#((because I may or may not have cried a bit after I beat Chapter 11.........))

[clouditae]

First Love | 11

Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | swearing

Word: 2.6k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

It’s been about a week since you last saw Yoongi. A week since you’ve discovered that he has a past with Sam, the girl you met at the party, but you’re not fully sure if it’s the same Sam and what past they have. 

You never told Ari about this. It was too… embarrassing for you to mention. You did what Ari didn’t want you to get hurt about, and you’re deeply hurt. Sure you didn’t do the actual thing with Yoongi like a lot of girls have, but what you did and what happened after caused a silence between the two of you. It’s not like you’re avoiding him the way he’s avoiding you. He hasn't texted you or talked to you, and Hoseok says there’s usually a girl in his room so he has to wait for her to leave before he can go in. 

Ari would give you worried glances, but you’d brush it off like you’re not about to cry because your feelings for him grew ten times more. When you left his room and went to yours, you lied in bed and cried yourself to sleep. Just like you did the first night of the year. That fear you felt when you were in that room only proved to be right. This ended badly and you’re left feeling empty.

Right now you’re sitting in class trying to focus on the lecture rather than on Sam and Yoongi, and you and Yoongi. You want to know who this girl is and what past they have together to make Yoongi sound so hateful. The only person you can ask is the person who knows him best. Thankfully you’re meeting Ari and Hoseok for lunch after class. 

As your professor finishes his lecture, you pack your belongings and leave the room like a lot of eager students who are just done listening to long rambles about night photography and how to have a better advantage when taking them. Walking down the hallway, you reach the stairwell and follow the group of people heading down. When you’re out of the building, you make your way towards the food court where Ari and Hoseok will be waiting. 

Not having your earphones in, you’re stuck with listening in on others conversations. Nothing is interesting to you; they talk about class or “the bastard is gonna get his ass beat when I see him this weekend—I can’t believe he cheated on me”. Conversations you can care less for. You have your own problems and one of those is how to bring Sam up in a conversation without causing Ari to get suspicious and cause Hoseok to question things. Sweet Hoseok is oblivious, and you want to keep it that way when you ask about her. 

Off into the distance, further away from the court, compared to you, is Hoseok chatting with someone. Your face lights up in realization as you pick up the pace to the food court. With another quick glance at Hoseok, and realizing he’s making his way over, you lightly jog inside and scan the area for Ari. You’re starting to feel the panic as Hoseok gets closer and closer to the building while your eyes continue to glance back and forth in the room. 

Where is she?

“Y/N over here,” her voice rings, hand waving towards you from the far left corner of the room. 

You almost run to her now as you throw your bag on a chair next to you and rush, “Whatever I ask Hoseok play along—I’ll explain everything later—” 

Hoseok has just arrived. “Hey guys,” he says, smiling as he takes a seat next to Ari and places a kiss at her temple. 

You try your best to act like nothing happened. “Hey. Are you guys ready to eat? I’m starving,” you tell them, voice wavering just a bit from the adrenaline of just a simple beating him here. 

“Yeah, let’s get some grub,” he agrees, smiling oh-so happily as he gets up. To your luck he never catches on, but Ari’s now staring at you with a curious look. You give her a begging look and that is all you need to do before she gives up and plays along with your request, but you know she’ll be barking questions the second the two of you are alone. “What are you guys in the mood for? I got an A on my performance so it’s my treat,” Hoseok explains, a huge grin on his face as he wraps his arms around Ari’s and your shoulders. 

“I’ll never deny free food, and congrats, babe.” Ari gets on her tiptoes and places a kiss on his cheek.  

“Thanks, baby, and don’t even argue with me Y/N, you’re letting me pay today,” Hoseok concludes without giving you a chance to deny his offer. 

You sigh, “Then can I have Chinese?” You point to the stand next to the Greek food stand. 

“I’m down for some Chinese,” Ari inputs. 

“Chinese it is!” 

After spending five minutes waiting for Ari to decide what she wants, getting in line and placing your order, and finally getting your food, the three of you sit at the table, munching on your orders. Ari and Hoseok spend a majority of the time talking while you struggle to find a way to bring up Yoongi and Sam. There never seems to be a perfect moment, and the longer you wait, the closer you get to finishing your food and leaving for the day while Hoseok goes back to class. 

But it’s like fate is on your side as Hoseok says, “Yoongi seems to be having a lot of girls over because almost every day when I go to the room, there’s a piece of red tape on the door. This is worse than usual. I know I said this before, but I really want to go in my room once in a while without having to wait all the time.”

It hurts. It hurts more than anything to hear that again, but you can’t let that pain show on your face even as Ari glances at you with a worried expression once again. “Oh, yeah,” you begin, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I forgot to say this last time, but some time last week I heard someone knocking on his door. It was a girl and it sounded like Yoongi wasn’t happy to see her there,” you claim, leaving out the details of being in his bathroom rather than in your room. 

Hoseok frowns. “Really? Did you happen to catch her name or what she looks like?”

“I didn’t see what she looks like, but I think he said Sam?” You try to look like you’re struggling to remember what he said, but his words are so clear in your head. 

You can see the slight shock on Hoseok’s face as he mutters, “Oh.” 

So he does know Sam. “Do you know her?” you question. 

Hoseok can only shake his head as he answers, “Yeah. She’s Yoongi’s ex girlfriend.” 

You need more information. You feel desperate for more information. “What happened between them? It has to be something bad since he didn’t sound happy and you don’t look like she’s a great person.” 

Hoseok picks at his food, taking a quick glance at you. “You can’t tell him I told you this.” 

You do your best not to look eager as you nod. “Of course.” 

“They met when they were sophomores in high school. It was an immediate attraction, and after five months they were dating. They’ve been together for four years before they broke up last year.”

“Why did they break up?” Ari asks, seemingly invested in Yoongi’s past just as much as you are. 

He sits back, running a hand down his face. “When Yoongi is dedicated to something, he’s dedicated. He’s also not good at expressing his feelings. In high school and even now he works on making music, so he tends to be cooped up in his room for days. Sam wanted attention from him—you know, to know he still loves her, but Yoongi struggles with that. Last year Yoongi caught her cheating on him, and that was the end of that.” 

You can’t think of anything to say. He met a girl; he fell in love, and now he’s heartbroken. How long did it take for him to fall in love with her? How long will he continue to let this eat him whole? 

“That must have sucked,” Ari mutters with a sincere tone. 

“Yeah, and I’m really hoping the girl that is in the room isn’t her,” Hoseok groans, taking a bite of his food.

“Never get back with an ex. Especially if they’ve cheated on you,” Ari recites, as if it’s an actual rule written in a book somewhere. 

“What does she look like?” you inquire. You have to know that the woman you met at the party, the nice girl who made you feel a bit more comfortable being there... You have to know that she is not the Sam that broke Yoongi’s heart. But the memory of Yoongi’s dejected look flashes in your head. 

It is her. You know it. You were his distraction in the bathroom when he saw her that day. 

“She has like red blondish hair? Brown eyes. She’s a theater arts major, so if you’ve gone to plays you may have seen her.” He shrugs, finishing the rest of his food. 

“Plays? I’ve been to a few.” Ari taps her chin in thought. “I’m trying to remember a girl with that hair color. What plays has she been in?”

“Uhhh…” he trails off, eyes darting back and forth a bit as he tries to remember. “The last time I saw one was when she was in Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew. She was Katherine? I’m not a pro at Shakespeare, so I’m not totally sure if she played that character.” 

“Oh! The strawberry blonde? She’s gorgeous,” Ari comments, eyes wide with surprise.

Yeah, she really is, you confirm, remembering how pretty she is and how her laugh was so bubbly and warm. You can feel a tinge of jealousy boiling in the pit of your stomach. She’s pretty, friendly, funny and so much more. Yoongi fell in love with her. He’ll never fall in love with you, and you hate yourself for thinking about that. 

“You’ve seen her before?” Ari asks.

You blink a few times in realization that you said those words out loud. “Yeah. She was at the party I went to. She was the other team I was playing against in beer pong.” 

“Really?” Hoseok baffles, voice louder than before. Ari covers his mouth, smiling apologetically to the eyes glancing in your direction. They’re the perfect couple when it comes to being loud. He removes his girlfriend’s hand from his mouth. “No wonder Yoongi was acting weird when he came back. He was in a pissy mood—more than usual,” he adds. 

“Damn. He must really hate her.” Ari shakes her head, pressing the lock button on her phone to check the time. “Oh, babe you should go. Class starts in ten,” she tells Hoseok, looking to him as her phone goes black once again.  

Taking a quick glance at his watch, his eyes widen before he closes the lid to his box, picking it up along with his backpack. “You’re right. I’ll see you guys later.” Giving a quick kiss to Ari, Hoseok quickly leaves the food court. 

The second he’s out of sight, Ari’s attention is now on you. “So are you going to tell me what that was about?”

You sigh. You can’t have a second to yourself before she bombards you with questions, but it’s just like you predicted. “Well what I told Hoseok was what I told you to wait for.” You avert your gaze. “Except I was in Yoongi’s bathroom when Sam knocked on his door.” 

“What were you doing in his room?” You can see the hint of curiosity and playfulness dance on her face.

“What happened that day was a mistake. Sam clearly wants him back, and Yoongi hasn’t spoken to me since that day.” You can see that Ari wants more information as to what happened that day, but you just aren’t ready to tell her. Tell her what will most likely be the biggest mistake you’ll ever make. “I’ll tell you some time, Ari. Just not now.” 

Her being your best friend, she can tell your distress and can only nod, reaching across the table to take your hand in hers. “Whenever you’re ready, hon, I’ll be here and ready to beat ass if necessary.” You nod, now fighting the urge to cry all over again. You’ve been fighting the urge to cry almost every day, and you feel ridiculous about it. “Want to head back to the dorm?” 

You nod again, closing the lid to your entrée box. You grab your backpack, along with your food and follow her to the trash can to toss the food and follow her out of the building. Walking through the crowd, Ari loops her arm through yours, smiling as she leads you to the bus stop to wait for your ride back to the dorm. 

A short, and somewhat crowded ride later, you and Ari lie in your own beds staring up at the ceiling in silence. “I know I have a paper to write, but right now I could care less what the four main issues Hunston discusses regarding in corpus design are. I think I’d rather talk about the Tokugawa era and its fall than anything with corpus linguistics,” Ari complains, the sound of her feet hitting her bed filling the silence. 

You frown in confusion. “What?”

“Exactly!” she whines, “Why did I decide to take five classes this semester?”

“Why did you?” you ask her, turning to your side to see her through the mirror. She can’t see you though, so it always makes you feel a bit weird staring at her without her really knowing it. 

“I want my last semester to be the easiest,” she answers, her smile spreading across her lips. The smile leaves as she sits up and stares at you. Seeing her serious expression, you sit up and look at her. “If you don’t want to do this with Yoongi anymore you should tell him. I’ll make something up to Hoseok if he asks.”

You give her a small smile as your gaze goes down to your hands on your lap. You know you have to end things with him. If you continue to receive these lessons it’ll only hurt you in the end. You can’t keep pushing yourself onto this hope that he’ll one day fall for you. No matter how much you wish for his attention, you’ll never get it. “Yeah, I know,” you whisper, blinking back the tears. 

You hear her moving around before the sound of her feet hitting the floor causes you to look up. She grabs her white water bottle. “I’m gonna go fill up my bottle and then find Rollan downstairs because I have questions about bringing a cat in here.” You chuckle. “Be back,” she sings, opening the door and leaving the room. 

When the door closes with a bang, you let out a shaky sigh and grab your phone that’s hidden under your pillow. You unlock it, going to your contacts and search for his name. Once you tap on his name and open the text, you type away with shaky fingers. 

[1:14 pm] Me: Hey. After thinking about it, I feel like I’ve learned enough to try and find someone on my own. I won’t be needing those lessons anymore. I hate you.

Deleting the last sentence, you hit send.

#bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #btswritersguild #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi au

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH11

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 11: Resurrection Overture (XI)

Unfortunately, Qi Leren could escape his “date” with the Illusionist, but he couldn’t escape his one with Chen Baiqi.　　

Since there was no specific time for the day's training, Qi Leren got up early the next morning. When he got up, he thought he would suffer from a sore back due to training too hard the previous day, but except for slightly sore thighs, his body had no symptoms of strain, which made Qi Leren feel incredible.　　

Was it because he’d been blessed by Maria’s holy light?　　

Clearly last night when he’d gone to Du Yue, he’d been as tired as a dead dog. Du Yue had received him warmly and easily agreed to sign the confidentiality contract. According to the contract agreement, he wouldn’t be able to reveal this secret to anyone, whether it was in writing or spoken or even from a mind control skill. As long as it was concerning these secrets, he couldn’t say anything and Qi Leren would also feel it if he did.　　

This was actually an unfair contract that had no benefit to Du Yue. Qi Leren wanted to compensate him with some survival time, but Du Yue didn't agree: "I can earn so many survival days because of the clues qianbei gave me. I’ve already made a lot of money, I dare not ask for your days as well. If there’s a chance in the future, please take me with you!"　　

Looking at Du Yue's earnest eyes, Qi Leren agreed without saying anything.　　

At six o'clock in the morning, Qi Leren arrived at Chen Baiqi's shop and tentatively knocked on the door.　　

The door opened and Chen Baiqi, who had already dressed neatly and washed her hair, looked at him with a smile: "That’s very positive. I thought you wouldn’t arrive till after seven o'clock."　　

Qi Leren said that if he really had come after seven o'clock, he wasn’t sure how he’d be treated by Chen Baiqi.　　

"I’m very pleased to see that you’re so motivated. You’ll report to me at this time every day in the future. You know the consequences of being late." Chen Baiqi's smile widened. In Qi Leren’s eyes, this was really a smile full of maliciousness. "As for breakfast, ask Sissi what she wants to eat and get me the same."　　

Sissi, who came out of the back room with a yawn, said sleepily, "Flatbread fitters, thank you."　　

Chen Baiqi had put an hourglass on the table and encouraged Qi Leren by saying, "Twenty minutes."　　

"It takes at least ten minutes to run from here to the market near the steel bridge!" cried Qi Leren.　　

Chen Baiqi glanced at the hourglass: "Nineteen minutes and fifty seconds. If you feel stressed, I can send a lovely dog to accompany you."　　

Accepting his fate, Qi Leren pushed open the door and started to run as if a three-headed hellhound was eyeing his chrysanthemum behind him—truly, this was the most terrible place.　　

Many years later, Qi Leren still remembered the dominating fear of buying breakfast. In a sense, this period of running for his life in the sunset was the worst time in his life. The shopkeepers in the bazaar remembered this wind-like man. He would rush to the booth with short messy hair right on time at about 6:10 every day to buy two breakfasts. If there were other people waiting in line, his bereavement and frequent glances at his watch would make people suspect that he was manic. The most dramatic time, when he was faced with a long queue, he had resolutely cut in line at the expense of paying for everyone else in the line and disappeared from everyone’s sight like an unscrupulous customer who ran out when faced with the bill.　　

—He runs faster than I did when I learned my wife was giving birth, a stall owner said.　　

—Once, he brought a three-headed hellhound to do his morning exercises and ran faster than usual, another vendor said.　　

—That boy is really handsome. If I’m slow at preparing cakes, he almost starts crying in his rush. It's very distressing, a middle-aged female vendor fondly said.　　

People in the market speculated on his origin, but for a long time no one knew who he was, so the "6:10 rush to buy breakfast" was also included in the top ten incredible sights in the Village of Dusk. It’s worth mentioning that a new addition was also added to this list recently—why are there so many tombstones for Qi Leren on Undead Island?　　

However, Qi Leren, who monopolized these two items on the list, had no idea about his "unexpected popularity" because recently he was living a life that was like death. Chen Baiqi happily told him that because Maria’s holy light had blessed him, his body was very "resistant to exercise" and could accept more intensive training. She used this as an excuse to arrange an inhuman training regimen for Qi Leren.　　

Twenty minutes of hard running in the morning was just an appetizer. It was common to practice shooting at the same time. Even swimming from the Village of Dusk’s port to Undead Island was included in the daily training. Before finishing training every day, there was another "love lesson" by Chen Baiqi, which translates to "teaching you how to be hit by various weapons". Even the day when you dislocated your right hand because of shooting practice, you were not spared.　　

At this time, Qi Leren realized that the training menu Ning Zhou had given him was too easy and that he was too gentle as a coach. Just look at the results of Chen Baiqi's devil training: Within a week, when Qi Leren was chased by the three-headed hellhound outdoors, he was able to climb onto the roof without changing color, climbing faster than a monkey. If Chen Baiqi hadn't forbidden him from doing anything to the dog, he would have jumped at the evil dog with a gun.　　

Yes, Qi Leren also learned to shoot, as taught by Chen Baiqi.　　

Before be taught, Chen Baiqi also asked him how much he knew about guns and which one he wanted to try.　　

Although he was a man, he wasn’t very interested in guns. He said, "I don't play shooter games very much. How about a Desert Eagle? I’ve heard those are very powerful."　　

Chen Baiqi rolled her eyes: "You really do know nothing about guns."　　

Chen Baiqi recommended a revolver similar to a Smith Wesson 625, which had a large caliber, six-chambers, and convenient loading that wasn’t easy to jam. It was said that it was made by a gun fan, and that it couldn't be mass-produced at present with the technological level of the Twilight Township. He earned a lot of survival days thanks to this skill.　　

Qi Leren took the strange gun and thought of the problem of the laptop transformer and charger. The craftsman who was still alive when he’d gone last time had been away on a task, and he may have come back now. He would go see about this after today’s training.　　

While training in the afternoon, Chen Baiqi had a whim to teach Qi Leren how to dive, or dive without any equipment to be exact, to exercise his breath-holding ability, compression resistance, and control of his heartbeat and breathing. Since his profession was that of an assassin, he couldn't do without a well-trained heart.　　

Qi Leren listened in anguish to the main points about diving, put on the headlamp, and looked at the endless sea.　　

"I advocate that every player who focuses on the assassin's route should learn to dive, because to be a good assassin he must learn to overcome his nervousness and fear. There’s no training that can train a person better than jumping into the sea alone to challenge your own limits. As you dive deeper and deeper, the light will decrease. In the end, only your own heartbeat will be left in the dark world. It will seem like your soul has escaped from your body and roamed in endless darkness. You will be isolated and helpless. Nothing can save you. You have to learn to rely on yourself. The water pressure in all directions will become stronger and stronger, but the oxygen in your lungs will become less and less, and death will become closer and closer to you, and you won't even know what depth you’re diving to. You will feel fear, more and more fear, and fear will make your heart beat faster, oxygen consumption will increase dramatically, and you will die faster if you cannot overcome this fear." Chen Baiqi looked at Qi Leren, who was shivering in the wind, and smiled happily.　　

"This area isn’t deep. You’ll go down and touch a shell. It’s very simple to do," Chen Baiqi said.　　

Qi Leren said bitterly, "Can you tie a rope around me? What if I can't come back up from the water?"　　

Chen Baiqi's smile grew deeper, and her slender eyebrows made this smile even more malicious: "Don't be afraid, it doesn't matter if you don't come up for a while, anyway. You’ll slowly float up after swelling a little in two days."　　

“………………”

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Editor’s Notes: The next chapter may be a bit late, as I’ve had a hectic last couple weeks and unfortunately have fallen behind. I will try to avoid this though.

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#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

[chilly-me-softly]

Every Little Thing's Gonna Be Alright • Chapter 22

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21

Evelyn had woken up more than a few times recently with Jack's gaze on her like that morning, but compared to the other times, there was no trace of melancholy in Jack's gaze for her imminent departure, which he disguised with his smile.

She felt good. And it wasn't because Cece had slept through most of the night in her comfy cot that Jack had bragged about quite a bit that morning. She didn't know why either, she just knew she felt at peace and wanted things to continue that way for as long as possible.

Jack had gone off to train again while she had occupied the day chatting with Deb first and her mother later. And then when Jack had returned, they had enjoyed a few moments together. Jack had placed Cece on his chest while lying comfortably on the couch and had even sent a few pictures to Ben knowing how much he missed not having his niece around. Needless to say they'd bickered for a few minutes and she'd just laughed, observing their friendship which she'd rarely had the opportunity to see anyway.

"How are you?"

"What do you mean? I'm right here in front of you, you can see me" Evelyn looked up confused at the question, chuckling as she set the dry dishes in the shelf.

"Yeah but we haven't talked about it yet. Face to face I mean" she sighs, she knew it would happen sooner or later. They'd mentioned the matter when it had happened but she'd always waved it off with very elusive answers, knowing that with Jack she wouldn't be able to hide anymore.

"And I let it go during this time because there was already little time to spend with you. But we can talk about it now if you want"

"It's just that I don't care" she can clearly feel Jack move at her statement, her not turning around yet.

"Yes you do, worrying is part of you"

"That's okay. I don't want to constantly pour my worries on you. I don't want to be a burden anymore"

"Come with me" Jack caresses her shoulders before leaving a kiss on them and then offering her a hand which she stares at almost studying it for a moment before accepting it and letting herself be carried by him.

"Jack" she starts but without the need to add anything else, passing Jack also takes the carrier with Cece continuing to walk as if nothing happened. Stupidly she smiles but without losing focus on where they are going. And eventually she finds herself in his indoor pool.

Evelyn tries to resist by increasing her grip on Jack's hand but he doesn't seem to notice, going to place the carrier away from the water but still within sight. He then turns to her smiling and leaving a kiss on her lips.

"Let's do this, voice your concerns one last time. Like a confessional. Then we'll let the water take them away"

"You'll empty the pool?"

"Not the point" he leaves a peck on her nose sketching a smile.

"Hmm so I have to go in there?"

"I think that's the whole point" she switches her gaze from his waiting face and that stretch of water, swallowing hard. "What is it?"

"I um... I don't, you know... I can't swim"

"Unbelievable" he chuckles at first, "But wait I'm sure Ben is more than capable"

"In fact I said I couldn't swim. Not a word about my brother"

"May I ask why?"

"I don't know... Our parents took me for lessons just as they did with him, but all I remember is three year old me attached to my father's leg with my eyes swollen with tears. I knew even then that my dad was the softer one and that he wouldn't let me do it" a small giggle escapes her lips as she shakes her head at the memory of that day, of her first and last swimming lesson.

"Ben's tried over the years too but it's come to nothing and... so now I'm just staying as far away as possible, that's all"

"So this has started way back" at her raised eyebrow, he continued "The fact that you can't really let you go"

"I don't know..." she huffs running a hand through her hair, "maybe what-what are you doing?" Evelyn forgets everything going through her mind at the exact moment Jack takes off his shirt in such a fluid gesture leaving it a few steps away from where he is.

"It's just the two of us here. Do you trust me?"

"Jack" she groans bringing her hands up to cover her face and throwing a look at her little girl wishing she would go to her aid at that very moment. Only she couldn't be any quieter with her little fingers in her mouth.

"Well if you want a kiss... come and get it" and he's in the water now, arms crossed on the edge as he looks at her quietly in anticipation while she feels her legs go mushy but heavy at the same time.

"I might as well do it this way, dry and safe" so he looks at her challenging her as he slowly moves away from the edge coming more and more towards the middle, letting go and just floating on that surface.

"Oh I'm definitely not coming there" the words come out of her mouth before she can stop them making him laugh.

"You just want to see me take my clothes off, admit it"

"Maybe" Jack states seriously but after the wink he can't take it and gives in to the laughter again.

"You know what, water actually scares me. When I'm here it's like it makes me vulnerable, exposed, like my thoughts have a free pass to attack me. And I won't hide the fact that more than a few times I've sat exactly where you are staring at the water with the fear that going in would force me to deal with things I wasn't ready to face"

"Why do you keep going in then?"

"Because it made me think about good things too and those are always worth it" staring into his eyes after that she already knows she's lost it. In a burst of courage she takes off her shirt and a shiver runs down her spine. She looks at Jack slightly embarrassed as he slowly walks to the edge of the pool.

"If my daughter becomes an orphan I swear-"

"That won't happen" he reassures her following her every step, helping her slowly into the water and resting his hands firmly at her waist, "We're not going any further than this, your back will always touch the edge" he whispers to her continuing to smile reassuringly as she entwines her hands around his neck.

"I want my kiss" she moans making him chuckle before he slowly cancels out that little distance between them.

"Hmm I need to stop listening to you. You're always pushing me to do things..."

"Too bad you like me" he murmurs into her lips. Sometimes we simply need someone to push us to try new things, to push our limits, to always go a little beyond the comfort zone. We need someone who challenges us to improve ourselves and discover new things and change our minds about others.

"Yeah you're right" their lips meet again, and surely the cold felt just before has disappeared completely replaced by heat. Heat coming from their bodies and the situation, from involuntary touches and their hearts beating fast. One of Jack's hands goes up higher as Evelyn's legs go to wrap around his waist pulling him even closer to her. And then Cece starts to cry and a sigh escapes both of their lips.

"You've got to be kidding me" she murmurs rolling her eyes as Jack chuckles resting his chin in the crack of her neck, leaving a kiss there.

"What, you like water now?"

"I wish she would have cried before I came in, helping her mum"

"Oh no no, I said to her earlier please be good, your mum needs to take herself less seriously"

"Since you two are getting along so well, I'll just leave her here with you when I leave" she sticks her tongue out at him before getting him to help her out of the pool and after quickly drying themselves off they both walk over to Cece to soothe her crying. They go back into the house to change her nappy and feed her again, Jack watches as Evelyn gently rocks the little one to sleep and watches as she carefully places her in her cot and always stays to make sure she sleeps peacefully for at least ten minutes before walking away.

"I'd be happy if you'd both stay you know" he murmurs to her before leaving a kiss on her temple and ajaring the door to the room. And she finds herself back in that room in the middle of the night, having woken up and checked that everyone was still asleep. She sits at the edge of that pool with her legs to her chest, looking at the water which is partially lit by a small window right on top of one wall.

She can feel what Jack had described to her only a few hours before, the calmness of that place that forces her to reflect and to bring to the surface some things that are in a remote corner of her brain. And she thinks about the future, starts to consider some options, to imagine her likely life to see if she could make it. And when she goes back to bed, with Jack immediately holding her close, she thinks it would be worth it after all.

----

I have a question for you guys. Since I've never carried on a story with so many chapters, could you please let me know if it still makes sense or is it time for me to, I don't know, start working on an ending?

Tag: @alexajanecollins @emwritesfootball @rosie7703

Chapter 23

#every little things gonna be alright #my writing #original #football imagine #football imagines #jack grealish #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish imagines #ben chilwell #ben chilwell imagines #ben chilwell imagine

[lukissed--a]

alt! [pulsite.]

send me “alt!” and I’ll introduce you to a character I’ve rped in the past, (want to play in the future) or are currently playing somewhere else! // Accepting

Prompto Argentum - Final Fantasy XV

((SPOILER WARNING: Seeing as I wrote this as Prompto’s POV of an event that happens late into the game, there are spoilers for the thirteenth chapter of Final Fantasy XV under the cut. If you haven’t played that far and don’t want to get spoiled, feel free to move along.))

The more he talked, the more he wished he could stop. But there was no going back now; he had already granted them access to the control panel. Besides, they deserved to know; friendship was still new territory for them, but keeping secrets wasn’t good, right? 

He always felt like he didn’t belong, and now that he knew what he was…he knew it to be true. And….now they’d know it too.

As he spoke, he prepared himself for the worst. He didn’t want to lose them; all the laughs they shared, the memories, even the tears���..he hadn’t wanted to let that go. The thought of losing them - the only friends he’s ever known - broke his heart. All he could do was cling to the hope that they wouldn’t; that things would stay the way they were before everything turned to hell.

Prompto would have understood, though. Loneliness was something he was all too familiar with; he knew he’d be heartbroken, but all he had to do was tell himself that he was used to loneliness before. Even though it would be a blatant lie.

So, suffice it to say he was shocked when they accepted him. All of them did. Not even one cruel word hurled at him.

It took everything he had and more not to break into tears. Not out of sorrow or sadness but out of relief. 

Please, please don’t let this be a dream. 

He wouldn’t now, though. Maybe later, when all this was over. He had plenty of time to cry like the loser he was later.

He just didn’t think it would be right back to sorrow until after the fact.

#Alternate Muse Meme; #((*SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE*)) #((I LOVE PROMPTO!!!!)) #((like he's my favorite character in FFXV and nobody can convince me otherwise)) #((I'm a HUGE sucker for comic relief characters okay)) #((especially ones that have a sort of darker backstory or issue they're struggling with)) #((I'd rant in the tags but IDK if that'd be spoiling people)) #((but srsly I found myself relating to Prompto and I'm actually nervous to play his DLC)) #((because I may or may not have cried a bit after I beat Chapter 11.........)) #((so I really hope I got his character right ajskjahfjdhajh)) #Gray Glasses; #Thanks for the Ask! #mun writes

[mlqcconfessions]

Can I request a some hurt/comfort? How would our guys react to MC being in a coma and waking up from it? Take care of yourself!

We are always reminded of MC’s unnecessary courage, especially towards the later chapters. Every time she gets into trouble, the boys are there to save her. 

But from Chapter 10+, we see that they won’t come to our rescue every time. 

And that made me really sad (I JUST WANT HAPPY ENDINGS Y'ALL)

So I’m using this opportunity to write alternate endings for some of the darkest stories for each of the boys (and I had to use my imagination for these, so they may be a little lacking)

This took me a LOT LONGER than I expected, so that’s why my headcanons weren’t updating lately

Warning: There are spoilers for the main story (Ch 11-15)

MLQC Headcanon - As long as you’re here

Victor (Spoilers for Ch 11)

He’s been through this once already as kids

He’s never been prepared for another one

He always thought...since he’s here with you now.....he would be able to protect you

He believed he had changed

That he was no longer the weak boy from years ago

This is why he’s taking it so hard on himself

You were the only thing on his mind (even work was irrelevant)

He’s looking at you sleeping so soundly in the hospital bed

It’s as if you would wake at any moment

But he knows.....it’s not good to raise hopes

How long has it been.....8 days?

He glances around the hospital room (a daily routine he does)

Just to make sure everything is in pristine condition

But he doesn’t realize that he himself was in shambles

He prepared the best amenities for your hospitalization

The nurses kept talking about him, the CEO of LFG

Some attempted to get noticed by him (which did succeed to a certain extent)

They paid more attention to him than to you

“Are you going to keep doing your job halfheartedly?”

“P....pardon?”

“I have no need for unprofessional workers who can’t focus in front of their patients. Please leave” (The hospital’s Chief had to bow his head in apology)

Of course, Victor didn’t care about such trivial matters

All he was concerned about was your health

He had been watching over you nearly 24/7 

He regularly calls Goldman to bring over his work to the hospital (he says he can’t go himself because then he’ll have to leave you)

For once, Goldman doesn’t care that he’s not paid enough

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

You wake up to blinding lights, forcing your eyes to stay closed

After getting adjusted, you look around 

Am I....in a hospital? (your eyes fall on the IV drip above you)

You turn your head (a short pain rings in your back), finding Victor laying his head on the bed

His hands are tightly grasping yours, knuckles shaky and pale

You raise your other hand to smooth his hair (it’s a little oily?)

He slowly opens his eyes, realizes the hand on his head, and quickly shoots up

His mouth is open, but he’s not saying anything

You laugh a little at this new Victor (you wish you could’ve taken a picture)

“Haha...good morning, Victor”

It’s only until you show him your usual smile that he regains himself

“......dummy....”

He bends down to pick up some papers that had toppled over

You don’t notice that he wipes a tear that was falling on his face

Kiro (Spoilers for Ch 14)

He didn’t want to have to do this

But it was the only way to save you (to keep you safe)

He hadn’t planned on using absolute control on you

After all, he knew you wouldn’t want to leave him by himself on that rooftop

But he had no choice

He would much rather sacrifice himself if it meant protecting you

And there was no telling what he would do if you got hurt

He dare not meet your eyes when he made you walk by him

There would’ve been a resisting force, making him want to hug you right away

It took him everything he had to not cancel his evol at that moment

As soon as he heard the door lock with a click, he turned to focus on his enemy

There wasn’t much to the fight anyways (his evol was overpowering)

But he couldn’t help but worry about you on the other side of that door

He figured you would be crying your eyes out, but there was nothing he could do

You, on the other hand, were trying your hardest to break Kiro’s control

But to no avail

All you could do was pound on the door, until your hands started to bleed

This went on for who knows how long

At this point, you were slumped over on the ground (your poundings have gotten much weaker)

You balled up your hands into fists, your last attempts to stay focused

Your nails dig into your palms, but it doesn’t faze you one bit (although it does quite hurt)

Was it fatigue, or was it exasperation.....but you started to lose your sight until everything was pitch black

Meanwhile, the noises outside come to a halt

Kiro hobbles over to the door (he wasn’t injured, just overwhelmed with fatigue)

He’s surprised to find you lying on the floor, unconscious

As much as he wants to take you to your home, he knows he doesn’t have the right to do that (not after what he just did to you)

But....it’s even more dangerous to leave you here

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

He treats your hands with the first aid kit in your apartment

You slowly wake up to see Kiro struggling with the bandages (he was never great at things like these)

With your other hand, you reach up to cup his face

He’s startled (he wasn’t expecting you to wake up this quickly)

“Kiro.....”

He doesn’t say anything, but just looks at you with a pained expression on his face

He gets up to leave, but you grab onto his shirt

“No...please.....don’t leave....”

He turns around, bites his lower lip, and gently tugs your hand off from him

“......I’m sorry....I command you....”

“Kiro.......!”

“.....go to sleep”

You don’t remember anything after this point, not even the fact that he tucked you in

Or the fact that he stayed a little longer by your side (to burn you into his memories before leaving)

“.....sweet dreams, MC”

Lucien (Spoilers for Ch 13)

He knew you were brave

But he also knew you were careless

You hadn’t realized how deep your punctured wound went, and quickly lost consciousness

He wanted to rush towards you, to catch you in his arms

He wanted to apologize that he’s made you go this far

But he just stood there, looking at your fragile figure with indifference

He slowly walked over, and got on one knee to inspect your condition

He had to pry Iridescent out of your hands (for fear that you would try to stab yourself again)

All the while, he remained calm

As if what he just saw affected him no less than a falling leaf

But of course, the truth was much different

If he showed the slightest bit of emotion, the men would take you away from him

He was already being suspected of a traitor by them (it’s more advantageous to be seen as your enemy......for your sake)

“She’s fainted (he pushes some hair out of your eyes). I’ll take care of things from here”

“Ares, you can’t—!”

“We need her alive, wouldn’t we?” (the other agents can feel the hostility in his voice)

After he receives silent confirmation, he picks you up in his arms and takes you to his apartment

He rests you on the bed, and prepares everything to treat you

He effectively manages to stop the bleeding, but he’s unable to close the wound

It’s going to scar.....

As he looks at you, his heart becomes foggy

He has so many things to say.....so many things to explain

If only you realized his true feelings

But he knew it would only bring you harm if you got close to him

After all, HE was the one deceiving you this entire time 

And that’s all you needed to believe

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

When you open your eyes, you realize you’re back in your house (it’s dark except for some light from outside)

As you try to stand up, you flinch as your neck stings in pain

It’s bandaged.......Lucien!

You quickly look around the room, grabbing on to the slightest hope that he would be here

Your shoulders slink back as you laugh to yourself (at your own foolishness)

He lied to me.......he......

You cover your face with the pillow, trying to take everything in

You reach out to the bedside table for your phone, dropping something in the process

As you go to pick it up, your heart feels like it’s about to explode

Iridescent is lying on the floor, the tip no longer covered with your blood

As if it’s unaware of your muffled cries, it shines brightly in the moonlight peering through your windows

Gavin (Spoilers for Ch 15)

The wind had been blowing for hours on end, keeping his tears from falling down his face

There wasn’t much he could’ve done to prevent this

To prevent you from taking a bullet to your shoulder

No, he thought

I was right there next to her.....

There were so many things he could have done

That he SHOULD HAVE done

He looks down at you, writhing in pain, clutching at your shoulder

He knows how bullet wounds feel like (all the more reason why he’s so hard on himself)

Luckily, the two of you managed to escape STF during that chase

That doesn’t mean he was unscathed, as well

When heard you scream, he lost control of his evol

It did throw the STF agents off-course (but it also pushed you along the edge of a cliff)

He quickly grabs hold of you, twisting his body so he breaks the fall

The currents help soften the landing, but the rocks and branches leave scars on his body (he’s just relieved that you’re alive)

He brought you inside an abandoned warehouse, a beat-up Sparky guarding the front door

Lots of thoughts run through his brain while he’s treating your wound (now he knows who his true enemies are)

He skillfully manages to reduce the bleeding (but it doesn’t stop completely)

Meanwhile, your breathing becomes heavy and your heartbeat spikes up

He quickly takes off his shirt to dab the sweat off of your forehead (it’s not the cleanest, but it’s better than nothing)

He looks around for a water source 

No luck (but he does find some wood for the fireplace)

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

He quickly returns to the warehouse, nervous about leaving you alone

“..Gavin....”

The firewood in his hands clatter as they fall to the ground (without a moment’s hesitation, he’s by your side)

“MC....?” (the tears he had been holding back are now falling, each drop hitting your hand that he’s desperately clutching)

You find it hard to speak, only capable of muttering sounds

There’s so many things you want to say...that you NEED to say

But the sounds of agonized crying fills your ears (you’ve never heard him cry before, let alone this loud)

Little did you know that these tears were not of pain, but of relief

He’s holding onto you so tight, as if he’s trying to make sure you don’t leave him

The sun slowly rises once again, a gentle breeze blowing over the fallen leaves in the silent environment

Welp this was more hurt than comfort

This is not what I had initially planned.

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc kiro #mlqc lucien #mlqc gavin #mlqc imagine #mlqc imagines #mlqc headcanon #mlqc headcanons #mlqc fanfiction #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fluff #victor #li zeyan #lee taek eon #zen #kiro #zhou qilou #ju girak #kira #lucien #xu mo #heo muk #shimon #gavin #bai qi #baek gi #haku #mr love #mr love queen's choice

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Place to Belong: Chapter 12 Thicker Than Blood

Chapter 11

Read on AO3

Claire and Jenny were once again sitting in the grass near the mill, watching the children play. This time, Kitty was running around with them, and yelling as well. She was starting to speak in one word sentences, much to Jenny’s relief, things like “up,” “Ma,” “Da,” “jam”. More often than not, in chasing after her siblings, she toppled over, but after the first three times, Claire and Jenny stopped expressing concern. She was perfectly fine.

The little life inside Claire was growing more and more restless by the day. It was nearing the end of August, just over a month since the baby had started kicking.

Claire cried out softly, her hand flying to her stomach.

“Ye alright?” Jenny asked, looking up from the shirt she was mending.

“Yes, I’m fine…just a strong kick, is all.” Claire shook her head in disbelief. “Strongest one yet.”

“Sometimes it feels like they’re trying to bruise ye,” Jenny said, laughing. “Kitty was brutal to me. Though I’m sure that’s no surprise.”

Claire chuckled. “He seems quite eager to get out of me. I don’t know what the rush is,” she crooned, looking down at her swollen abdomen. “You’ve still got three months to go in there.”

They both chuckled at that, and then another thought crossed Claire’s mind.

“You know…” she absently stroked her bump, unable to take her eyes off it now. “He’s already further along than Faith ever was.”

“That’s a good thing, is it no’?”

“Of course. I thank God every time I can feel his life, even if it feels like a personal attack sometimes.” She gave a tiny smile. “It’s just…strange. I never actually got this big, her kicking never got this strong.”

Jenny put down her sewing for a moment to take Claire’s hand. “There’s no shame in celebrating what ye have wi’ this bairn, even though ye couldna have it wi’ the first.” Claire nodded silently. “Faith will always be the one to make ye a mother. Yer first born. But this one will be special to ye in his own way.” Jenny placed a hand on Claire’s belly. “D’ye ken what I’m trying to say?”

Claire nodded. “I do.” She covered Jenny’s hand on her stomach. “Thank you, Jenny.” Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears. “I wish…” She took a shuddery breath. “I wish she could have been buried here. And I wish we could have laid her father beside her.”

Jenny’s eyes swam with tears as well. “They’re together now, sister. Ye ken that.” Claire nodded, wiping her eyes. “He can be the father he always wanted to be. To Faith.”

Just then, Kitty shrieked, and both of their heads whipped up to see Jamie haphazardly holding her by the waist.

“Jamie! Put her down!” Jenny called. He released his grip, and she unceremoniously thudded into the grass, popping her head back up in no time and toddling away from Jamie.

“Christ…” Jenny groaned, but Claire started laughing.

“What do you suppose he was going to do with her?” Claire asked.

“Throw her into the stream I’d expect. He’s still angry she wasna a wee brother.”

Claire laughed out loud at that, wiping away the lingering tears that remained on her face.

“Auntie Claire!” Maggie’s voice squeaked, scampering toward them. She was clutching something in her wee fist, and she presented it proudly to her. “Flower. Fer yer garden.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” Claire beamed at her, taking it from her. It was a blue thistle, likely plucked somewhere near the mill. “This will be lovely with the rest of my herbs and medicines, Maggie. Thank you.”

Maggie smiled a wide, toothy grin, twisting her skirt in her hand.

“Give yer Auntie a kiss, Maggie,” Jenny said, knowing she needed it.

Maggie immediately obeyed, throwing her arms around Claire’s neck and planting a kiss on her cheek. Claire laughed joyously, returning the embrace and holding her tightly. It was hard to believe that come November, it would be three whole years since she had delivered this little girl. 

Maggie pulled away and bit her bottom lip excitedly before speaking again. “See baby?” she asked, looking down at Claire’s stomach.

“You’d like to see the baby?” Claire said, and she nodded, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing. “Come here.”

Claire took her hands and put them on her bump, and Maggie’s eyes lit up.

“If you are very patient,” Claire said, whispering to emphasize the importance of her words. “He may say hello.”

“Patient!” Maggie repeated, nodding again.

She practically bounced up and down, though she kept her hands glued to her Auntie’s belly the whole time. When the baby finally decided to kick, Maggie squealed. Claire and Jenny both laughed out loud.

“See?” Claire said. “There’s your wee cousin.”

“Hello baby!” she called, practically shouting at Claire’s stomach. “Baby cousin! Hello cousin!”

“You’re going to be so very helpful when he’s born, aren’t you?” Claire said, tickling Maggie’s own stomach.

She giggled. “Yes! I’ll help! Help baby!”

Claire kissed Maggie’s cheek. “Good girl.”

Jenny pulled Maggie over and covered her face with kisses, causing her to squeal all the more. “Run along now, make sure yer brother doesna damage wee Kitty.”

Giggling still, Maggie ran off to rejoin her siblings in the open field.

“Ye canna use that fer anything, can ye?” Jenny asked, picking up her mending once more.

“Not like this,” Claire said, smiling. “But I’ll cherish it nonetheless.”

She tucked the flower into a pocket in her skirt and picked up the sock she’d abandoned mending several minutes ago. Her cheek still felt warmed by the kiss that her darling niece had given her.

“Your children are so special to me, Jenny,” Claire said. “I can’t imagine what it will feel like to have my own child kiss me like that.”

“There are days when I take it fer granted,” Jenny admitted. She looked up at her children again, seemingly getting along for now. “But no’ today. The love ye feel fer yer child is…well, it’s the strongest thing I’ve ever felt. I look at them and I’m reminded I’d do anything fer them. Anything.”

Claire nodded in understanding, but she was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. Would she really do anything for her child? If that were the case, wouldn’t she have let Jamie send her back through the stones? This was a volatile world to bring a child into, with or without the dangers awaiting them at childbirth. If she’d truly do anything for her child, wouldn’t she have set aside her own wishes to bring her to a safer world, even if her heart would have died?

“Claire?” Jenny prodded, noticing she’d stopped sewing again. “What’re ye thinking?”

Claire swallowed thickly. She couldn’t tell her. Not right now.

“Just…worrying, I suppose.” Claire shrugged.

“Look at Maggie, Claire,” Jenny said pointedly. At present, she was holding Kitty’s hands and circling round and round with her. “The beautiful lass who just gave ye a flower and a kiss. I thought she’d die, Claire, honest to God I did. The second ye told me she’d be a breech baby I started accepting my own death as well as hers.”

“I remember.”

“Look at her now. She’s braw, she’s happy. During those hours and hours of agony, I never could have imagined this. This moment, now.” Their laughter, all three of her children, was loud as ever. “It makes sense that ye worry. Sometimes our worst fears come to pass. But sometimes, they don’t.”

Claire nodded thoughtfully. Maggie’s birth could have been dangerous even in the twentieth century, and they’d survived it in the eighteenth. Perhaps the same could be said for the little one that she carried now. There was really no way to know, and there was only one way to find out.

Another swift kick came, causing Claire to exhale sharply. Claire smiled to herself. She could practically hear Jamie admonishing their baby, telling him to stop beating his mother so.

“After all the work of carrying him around, this is the thanks he gives ye?” he would say. And Claire would assure him it didn’t hurt so very badly, and she would kiss him, and he would kiss their baby, rub his hands over her belly, quietly pleading with him in Gaelic to be kinder to his mother.

God, she missed him so.

——

August wore on, and Claire found herself settled in a comforting routine of breakfast, then gardening, then helping Jenny with whatever task, like laundry, mending, cooking. The herbs they’d planted back in June were doing quite well, and she now had a healthy supply of dried herbs for medicines and teas. Jenny had set aside a section of an old barn where she could properly hang things to dry, then come back to collect them and add them to her medical box.

Tending to her plants, taking little cuts and snippets, drying them, crushing them, mixing them, brewing them…it was cathartic for Claire. She was very grateful that Jenny had insisted she start doing this all those months ago. Her work was diligent and therefore mind numbing, and yet she was not working herself to the bone. She was getting the fresh air, the distraction she needed, without bringing any harm to herself or her baby. 

Occasionally her blank mind would be forced to return to the present when her nephew would barge into the barn, or when her niece would bolt up to her as she tended the garden with yet another flower that she simply had to add. She’d scoop Jamie up, hold him as high as she could to allow him to tie up a bundle of herbs with the others to dry, and thank him so very much for being so helpful. She’d take the flowers from Maggie and “plant” them beside the herbs, promising her that it would turn into a wonderful medicine that she could use one day.

“Flowers, Auntie?” She’d toddle up to her every day to check on them. “Me’cine yet?”

“Why, I think so,” Claire would say. “Look.”

And she’d show her the exact spot that Maggie had watched her bury the flower, and watch as her eyes popped out of her head to see the greenery that had “sprouted” overnight, which was really only Claire moving a few things around. Indulging her in this way had proved more of a feat than Claire had originally signed up for, because the more and more Maggie saw evidence of her efforts proving helpful, the more and more she wanted to help.

After a while, she’d had to gently tell her that there was no room for any more flowers, but that since it was so full, she needed her help to take care of it. She’d wholeheartedly agreed, eager to help her Auntie. Claire had deemed her “my little garden faery,” her wee helper. And Maggie loved it. Claire also adored it. It touched her heart in a way she could not describe that she’d been the one to bring her into the world with Jenny, and now she seemed to be attached to her at the hip. It meant more to her than she could ever explain.

Perhaps someday, when she was old enough to truly understand, Claire could teach Maggie medicine, really teach her. Perhaps someday the tenants of Lallybroch would have two healers to go to.

Claire watched from her garden as Maggie plucked weeds and flowers alike out of the dirt around the porch and the goat pen, singing in Gaelic to herself.

Yes, perhaps someday…but why rush away the beautiful innocence she possessed right now?

September arrived, and they were now in the throes of harvest season. The potato crop had done splendidly again, and though there was always the lingering fear of unknown possibilities, everyone was certain that they’d survive the winter once more because of it. Game had been difficult, seeing as they no longer had any guns to hunt with. They’d taken to setting traps in the woods surrounding Lallybroch, and for most of the summer they’d been lucky enough to have rabbit on and off every couple of days. Fergus would march himself right into the kitchen, proudly brandishing the wee beast from the trap he’d set all by himself. 

Claire was enjoying watching him thrive here. In Paris, he’d been confined to one small building his whole life, not to mention how unsuitable an establishment it was for children. Then even after Jamie had liberated him, his free spirit was confined by the high, brick walls of the city, his lungs clouded from breathing in the slums. In Scotland, at Lallybroch, he was truly coming into his own; as much as Claire hated to admit it, he was becoming his own man.

Of course, he was still only eleven—no, twelve years old (just turned it), hardly a man by any means, not yet at least. But he was unencumbered here. He had a family to belong to, a family to protect and provide for using the wilderness that surrounded him. If it wasn’t for his obvious French-ness, in his manner and accent, one would not question that he was a Highlander through and through.

And Jamie would be so proud.

Today, September the twenty-second, Fergus was gone for a peculiarly long amount of time. On the days where he checked the traps, he was gone right after breakfast and back in no more than two hours. It was nearing a third hour, and Claire was growing anxious. Was it irresponsible of her to allow him to run off into the woods alone? No, he could take care of himself. She knew that. Or perhaps she overestimated him. Twelve years old was still a child, whether or not the people of this time believed it to be so.

Claire was working fretfully on her garden, unable to bear the worst-case scenarios that whirled in her mind for much longer, when she heard hoofbeats come up the road. She whirled around and breathed a sigh of relief to see her boy trotting toward the house. Ian had taught him to ride over the summer, and he was getting quite good. Yet another thing that would make his father proud.

“Fergus!” she called as he got closer. “What on Earth took you — ”

And then she noticed the enormous bundle draped over the flank of the horse, behind the boy in the saddle. Fergus was beaming ear to ear, slowing the horse as he drew nearer to Claire.

“Is that — ?”

“A deer, Maman!” he said smugly, sliding off the horse and surveying his work proudly.

“How did you—? You couldn’t have shot it—?”

“No, Maman, the poor thing was in one of my traps,” he said, and his pride briefly morphed into sympathy. “They are meant for very wee animals, as you know, so it did not kill her right away. Just hurt her leg.” Claire couldn’t help but smile at his use of the word “wee.”

“It was very sad to see her suffering when I came upon her, but I knew she would only suffer more if I let her free. So I gave her mercy with my knife.” He gave a curt nod, like a little soldier. “And now we have lots of meat for supper!”

Claire laughed jovially and pulled him into a hug. Her hugs had become quite awkward lately, having to careen him around to her side so they could actually embrace each other. Two more months, she thought to herself. Two more months of feeling like an absolute tank in the way of everything.

She tenderly kissed the top of his head. “Wonderful job, mon fils. Why don't you join your uncle in the fields and I’ll see about getting it butchered, hm?”

He nodded, stretched up to kiss her cheek, gave her swollen middle a pat, and then scampered off around the house. She briefly caressed the spot on her cheek that he’d so briefly kissed, smiling to herself. He would never know how much his affection, his love, meant to her. 

Claire grunted and clutched her abdomen, exhaling sharply. Speaking of affection, she thought wryly to herself, smiling in spite of the most recent, ruthless blow to her womb.

“Easy there, little one,” she said, rubbing the spot. “You’ll knock Mummy right off her feet if you keep that up.”

“Good Lord, what is that?” Jenny suddenly appeared on the porch.

“A deer that Fergus killed mercifully after finding her in his trap.” Claire smiled proudly.

“Mo Dhiah!” she exclaimed, crossing herself as she approached the horse. “His bounty be blessed!”

“We’ll eat like kings tonight,” Claire laughed.

“Kings indeed!” Jenny gave the poor beast a pat on her flank. “Let’s get it ready then, shall we?”

It had been a great struggle to carry the animal inside to be butchered; many of their servants had had to be let go in the financial struggle that had followed Culloden. They were more apt to let go of the men first, as they would be more likely to find other work, and most of the male servants were attached to the female ones, either by marriage or because they were siblings. The Murrays were heart sorry to do it, and of course they hadn’t officially let anyone go until they found other work, but they simply couldn't afford to live like Laird and Lady anymore. The only servants left were Mrs. Crook, of course, who had firmly insisted that they’d have to drive her away with the switch (which had been met with “we wouldn’t dream of being rid of you, yer one of our own”), Rabbie, though he’d truly become more of a foster-son to the Murrays despite his status as their stable boy, and the Donnelleys, a widow woman and her wee daughter, serving as maids.

And so, Mrs. Crook, Jenny, Mrs. Donnelly, and even wee Laura, had struggled to get the beast inside. Claire had tried to help, but every single one of the three women had accosted her into stepping aside; how dare she, a pregnant woman at great risk, even think of lifting such an enormous beast?

Despite Claire’s initial annoyance, she was grateful for their concern. She hadn’t realized, but she was already quite sore without doing any heavy lifting. Once the beast was laid out, they each pitched in for its butchering. Jenny fussed over Claire all the while, never letting her do anything she deemed too strenuous. Even as her hormones raged and demanded revenge, she had to remind herself that Jenny was only looking out for her best interests, and she really was right. Claire had been very good so far about sparing herself from anything that would overwork her, and at seven months pregnant was perhaps the worst time to start changing that.

So she begrudgingly wielded the smaller knives, did not engage in any large swinging or hacking motions that would bring any greater pain to her back. Eventually the butchering was complete, and they separated the useful bits of meat and other things from the disposable bits. Mrs. Donnelly and wee Laura went off to be rid of what they didn’t need and then went about the rest of their daily tasks, leaving the sisters and Mrs. Crook in the kitchen to prepare the meat to cook.

It certainly was an all day affair, but the joy on the children’s faces, hell, even on Ian’s face made it all worth it. It was perhaps the heartiest meal they’d had in months. Everyone was all smiles, laughing, children and adults alike. Even Claire. She allowed herself to become lost in the food, in the drink, in the laughter of the children she had come to love and cherish more than her own life.

“Catching a full grown deer in one of those wee rabbit traps was surely God’s grace,” Ian said toward the end of supper, raising his glass to Fergus. “Either that, or our wee Frenchman is one lucky bastard!”

Fergus’s nose crinkled with the laughter he unleashed, and everyone else’s laughter followed.

“Sláinte!” Ian cried, and everyone echoed, even the children with their cups of water.

God’s grace…

Claire gave the table a glance over, her cheeks sore from smiling, her throat aching from laughter.

“Auntie,” wee Jamie pulled at her left sleeve, whispering.

“Yes?” She answered with contrived secrecy, leaning her ear closer to him.

“May I try yer whisky, Auntie?” he whispered, but the desired effect of quiet was not achieved, as everyone at the table burst into laughter.

Claire’s head fell back with laughter, before promptly covering the lad with tickles, kissing his head over and over.

“If big Jamie could have heard you say that…” Claire shook her head, still laughing.

“He’d surely give it to him!” Jenny said rolling her eyes at the thought.

“Uncle Jamie? He’d give me whisky?” 

“Aye, and I’d box his ears fer it,” Jenny said firmly. “No whisky until yer grown.”

“Fergus isna grown!” Jamie pointed across the table accusingly. Fergus put his hands up in surrender.

“Tell ye what, lad,” Ian said. “When you bring an entire deer home fer supper, ye can have all the whisky ye want.”

Without another word, Jamie sprang out of his seat and scrambled out of the room.

“And where d’ye think yer off to, and no’ excusing yerself?” Jenny called after him.

“I’m gonnae set a trap! Fer a deer!”

“Lord ha’ mercy,” Jenny sighed, exasperated. Ian laughed so hard he started slamming the table.

“Best be stopping the wee huntsman before he becomes a drunk at five years old.” Jenny stood up from the table, and Claire could see the glimmer in her eye as she followed after her headstrong boy.

“When can I ha’ whisky, Da?” Maggie suddenly piped, rising all the way onto her knees.

“Never,” Ian said, taking another sip of his own drink.

Claire chuckled to herself at Maggie’s adorable wee pout. “Oh, don’t worry, Maggie, my little garden faery,” she whispered into her hair. “When you’re old enough, Auntie Claire will share her whisky with you. Our secret.” She put a finger to her lips to emphasize discretion, and she copied, making an adorable “shh” noise. Claire laughed and kissed her forehead, overwhelmed with love.

God’s grace indeed, she thought, that these people are my family. 

Family in a conventional sense had been lost on Claire for most of her life. Both parents dead at five years old had left her traveling with Uncle Lamb for her childhood and adolescence. Then she was flung into Frank’s arms, then Jamie’s. Jamie had felt the closest to family she’d ever imagined, but this was different. This was a whole family, an entire wee clan that welcomed her with open arms.

My own family.

#outander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander au #claire fraser #jenny murray #jenny fraser murray #fergus fraser #jamie fraser #lallybroch

[multisfabulis]

Clairvoyant Rain

Word Count: 3038

TW: Implied self-harm, implied/referenced past child abuse

Can you believe it's been about a year since I last wrote these two? It's not that I don't have much to write about, I just haven't had the time to do so! Between working on Corona's Shadow, working on the backburner project you'll get to see after I post chapter 2 of "Love's Descent into Madness", and dealing with IRL stuff, RLD has kinda fallen to the wayside. I can't guarantee I'll work more on it but I'll try my best to!

By the way, the reason this fic exists is because I wanted to write soft Luce/Ravi and this song was my inspiration for it!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

     Ravi tiredly opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. He hoped it would be morning so this wouldn’t happen but alas… It was still dark, the neon lights outside pouring in from the window. He could hear rain pattering on the glass as he looked at the digital clock for the time. In bright red numbers read 2:52 AM. Yep, way too early to be up and he fucking hated it.

     All waking up in the middle in the night ever did was ruin his good night’s sleep and make the alarm he set even more unbearable than it already was. If only he could go back to the days before Eli came and fucked everything up. That’d be really nice but because he’s wishing for it, he’ll never get those days back. He turned over onto his side and closed his eyes, wanting to drift back asleep.

     It was a moment later he heard a thunderous roar. His heart hammered against his chest as he shot up in bed. It took him some time to realize it wasn’t stuff being thrown around but something falling on piano keys from a great height. Luce knew better than to be loud when people were sleeping. Something must be happening if he was banging on the piano with no consideration for others.

     Tossing the covers aside, he hurried over to the door and opened it. He found himself face to face with a sleepy Amelia. She had a minor case of bedhead going on as dark pinkish eyes widened upon seeing him. No doubt on why she was up.

     “You heard that, too, right?” he asked quietly.

     Giving him a nod for her answer, he stepped in front and whispered, “All right, I’m gonna go see what’s going on. Stay behind me and don’t make a single peep.”

     They tiptoed down the hallway and he peeked around the corner. He saw Luce hunched over his piano, running his hands through his hair while muttering nonsense under his breath. He seemed to be frustrated, which was a rare state to see him in. His exclamation of “Damn it!” before slamming his hands down on the keys was further proof of it. Hearing the sudden discordant boom from up close startled Amelia as she nearly blew her cover with a stifled gasp.

     Turning around, he crouched down and put a finger to his lips, whispering, “Go back to bed, I’ll talk to Luce and everything will be fine, all right?”

     She nodded and walked back to her room. He watched her go inside and shut the door before deciding on his next course of action. He had an idea as to what was going on and he didn’t want her listening in on them. A girl her age shouldn’t be exposed to such dark things.

     He carefully made his way across the living room, being as quiet as the wind. He glanced over to where Luce’s knife was and grew worried when he saw it. It was laying on top of its sheath, meaning he took it out for a reason. He hoped it wasn’t the reason he was thinking of but he had his doubts. He sat beside the other man on the piano seat, concerned.

     “Luce?” he called out quietly, searching for his eyes. “Is everything all right?”

     Ruby red eyes met his as he replied in a guilty voice, “Snowbird, I, I’m sorry if I woke you up, I just---”

     “No, it’s fine, I’m just--” he tentatively put a hand on his back in an attempt to comfort him-- “I’m just wondering if you’re okay.”

     “Well,” he began, letting out a scoff, “I thought that if I played music for a little bit, I would stop thinking about the bad memories that just popped up out of nowhere but because my hands are shaking so damn bad, I’m not hitting the right keys and that’s pissing me the fuck off.

     “If my hands could just stop shaking, I’d be able to play, because if I don’t play soon, I’m gonna do something I’ll end up regretting and I don’t wanna do that so…” he trailed off, his voice going from a fever pitch to sounding broken.

     He rubbed his hand over his back, hoping to soothe him. It was then he looked down and his worry deepened into alarm. Luce was vigorously scratching at his arm, which was a canvas full of faded scars over pale white skin. Oh, that was definitely not good.

     He couldn’t let his panic get the best of him. It’d only worsen Luce’s already bad state and it was the last thing the both of them needed. He had to stay calm and try to curb his urge to hurt himself. In a way, this was good, because it meant he hadn’t done it yet, if the lack of blood wasn’t an indicator. He could try and talk him out of it so, if it worked, it’d encourage him to resist the temptation in the future.

     Placing a hand atop his to stop his scratching, Ravi asked, “Why don’t we go back to my room and get your mind off this for a little bit, hmm? Would that be okay?”

     “Yeah, that…might be good,” Luce replied, his breathing shaky.

     He helped him up off the seat and led him through the hallway. He held on to his hand the whole time as a means of keeping him grounded. Even so, he kept a close eye on him to make sure Luce was still in the present. It was after he brought him inside his room he saw some improvement in his condition.

     A quiet calm had replaced whatever anger was left in him. His eyes were no longer glassy and his breathing had steadied some. He was still there, he could reach him and not be met with silence.

     Setting him down on the bed, Ravi knelt in front of him and asked, “Are you feeling better?”

     “A little bit,” he replied, letting out a sigh afterwards. “Snowbird, listen, I’m sorry for making you have to take care of me and---”

     “Hey, hey, hey, none of that, all right?” He reached up to cup his cheek. “You’re not a burden to me, Luce. I know this is a new thing for both of us but I’ll be there for you, okay? Whatever it is, I’ll be there so…remember that.”

     With the ghost of a smile, Luce took hold of his hand and kissed the back of his fingers. His lips curled into a small smile of his own at the display. At least it showed he meant what he said by feeling a bit better. He retracted his hand and stood up with a huff, sitting beside him on the bed.

     “So, do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, leaning forward to see his face.

     Watching the small trace of relief fade away, he quickly added, “It doesn’t have to be about that! It could be about anything you want! Anything that’ll get your mind off that…”

     A huge clap of thunder sounded off in that instant, rattling the whole apartment. The loud boom caused his heart to stop for a split second before resuming. He turned to face the window to see if the power had gone out from that. Nope, the stupid neon signs from across the street were still on so that’s that.

     “Jesus Christ, that was loud. You okay after hearing that, Lu---”

     He turned around to check on him and fell silent. Luce was leaning back on the bed, his eyes closed as if he were listening to the downpour outside. What really stunned him was the expression on his face. He looked…content, no signs of stress or detachment present. Just peace and serenity, things he never thought he’d ever see on him, at least not for a long time.

     “Luce?”

     As if he just remembered he wasn’t alone, Luce straightened up and said, “Sorry, I just got…entranced listening to the rain.”

     “You actually like this shitty weather?” he asked incredulously. No normal person would like this kind of weather. Then again, he’s forgetting that Luce isn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination.

     “I love it, it’s very special to me,” he replied. “Have I not told you this?”

     “No, and we’ve been going out for how long?”

     “Do you wanna know why, then? I think you’ll have somewhat of an idea when I tell you I began to love the rain on that night.”

     It took him longer than it should’ve to realize what he meant. The night he became truly free from his shackles, the night he… That already told him just a hint of the significance rain carried for Luce. He may not have understood why it was so special but it was cruel of him to mock that which he clearly loved so…

     “That night, after I did what I did,” Luce began, a tone of reminiscence held in his voice, “I went outside. I looked up and there were dark storm clouds coming in and before I knew it, it started pouring down rain. The moment I felt those raindrops hit me, I knew…I’d be okay.

     “I had been so numb, numb to everything that touched me. The beatings my father would give me, the kisses my mother would give me, I felt none of it for so long. That rain was the first thing I felt in such a long time and…I cried. I could finally feel something and I was happy, I was…alive. I think, in that moment, the rain washed away not only the blood but my ‘self’. That was when I became Luce.”

     “When you say that, do you mean you weren’t called Luce before?” Ravi asked, confused by his wording.

     “You really think my parents gave enough of a shit about me to give me a name?” he replied with a sardonic smile. “I was called either some of the worst things you’d ever say to a kid or fake pet names. I found the name Lucian when I was 11 or 12 but I only really embraced it when I was 15.

     “Anyway, ever since then, I’ve always taken rain as a sign of good luck.” He laid back on the bed, his arms folded under his head. “If it rains, that means something good will happen.”

     No wonder why Luce liked rain so much. It represented freedom, it made him feel alive when death wanted to take him, it gave him a life. It was hard to say whether it played a role in the two of them crossing paths but the universe was funny like that. Whatever it may be, Luce was here now and maybe it was fate that he woke up to help him through a bad time.

     “So what’s the best thing the rain’s ever brought you?” he asked, curious to know his answer.

     “Hmm…” Luce looked as if he was deep in thought before replying, “I’d say it was meeting you. It was raining the day we met.”

     Feeling heat rush to his cheeks, he attempted to deflect that by saying, “Maybe you should go up to the roof and soak in the rain for a little while because I highly doubt that I’m the best thing rain’s brought you.”

     Without missing a beat, he countered that with, “It was raining the day I realized I loved you, too.”

     “Oh, come on, that’s not even fucking fair!” he exclaimed, his whole face now warm to the touch. “What the hell do I say to argue against that?!”

     Luce’s laughter at his expense made him turn away from him. He really should’ve known better than to degrade himself around Luce. He refused to allow him to believe there was nothing good about him and it annoyed the fuck out of him. He knew it was because he loved him and wanted to prove him wrong but still. It was rather touching to know how far he’d go but he’d never admit that out loud.

     After catching his breath, Luce took hold of Ravi’s wrist and, in a tender voice, said, “I love you.”

     “...I love you too,” he answered back, defeated. Luce knew exactly what to say to put an end to his self-loathing. It was so rare of him to say “I love you” first so of course he’d say it. “Can I kiss you?”

     He sat up, leaned in close, and replied, “Yes.”

     Ravi closed his eyes and bridged the gap between them. Luce parted his lips just a fraction, kissing him back with chasteness. It was a simple kiss that only lasted a few seconds before they pulled away, Ravi exhaling out a breath. He quickly stood up as he shoved down the urge to go in for a second kiss.

     “All right, get the fuck off the bed, I gotta sleep,” he said, stretching his arms up above him. Then he remembered what happened earlier. “You gonna be okay?”

     “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he replied, standing up as well.

     “You sure? If you want, I can---”

     Luce cut him off with a kiss to the forehead. He pulled away with a fond smile on his face and whispered, “I’ll be okay. Go to bed, Snowbird.”

     Guess that was as good an answer as any. He reluctantly crawled under the covers and looked at the clock for the time. 3:43 AM in dull red numbers. God, did they really spend almost an hour just talking about the rain? There went his full night’s sleep but he’d learn to deal with it.

     His eyes wandered over to Luce. He wasn’t sure if it’d really be okay for him to sleep while he might still be in need of help. He seemed to be getting on now but it had only been an hour since everything and there was no telling of the future. In the end, he had to trust Luce to come to him if he needed him. Exhaustion swept over him like a wave and he struggled to stay awake.

     “Goodnight, Luce.”

     “Goodnight, Snowbird.”

     And he was out like a light.

     It was morning when he woke up next. He must’ve overslept because he could hear the sounds of rush hour outside his apartment. His alarm didn’t go off so it must’ve been switched off at some point last night. Good thing Luce did it on the weekend; otherwise, he’d be in a panic, trying to make up for lost time. He attempted to turn over but was stopped by an arm around his waist.

     It was then he found Luce curled up next to him, soundly asleep. He was taken aback by this display. Him being asleep was a rare enough sight on its own but him sleeping beside him on the bed was virtually unheard of. The only other time they were like this was the first night they slept together. He wasn’t able to do it before, due to the circumstances, but he could do it now.

     He brushed strands of hair away from Luce’s face, admiring his beauty. He looked so peaceful, so…vulnerable, an impossibility made real. It’s not like he hadn’t seen other sides of Luce. There was the crooked smile and glint in his eyes when he was playful and the furrowed brow and emotionless voice when he was serious. Yet the tranquil and unguarded Luce before him was like a secret he was finally let in on.

     Was his trust in him so deep, he felt like he could do this with him? It had to be if this was happening and Ravi was…happy. Knowing the kind of life Luce had before meeting him, before he knew what freedom was, he was so glad that Luce was letting himself be like this around him. He wondered if maybe, just maybe, he felt safe while in his presence. If so, then…

     He carded his fingers through dark locks, bringing him in close. He decided to bask in the morning sun with him in the little time he had before needing to get up. He softly kissed Luce’s temple and brought him even closer. Their faces were mere inches apart as he shut his eyes. The last thing he could’ve swore he saw was the corner of his mouth curve up into a small smile.

#airi's writing #oc; Ravi #oc; Luce #Red Light Dregs #implied self harm #implied abuse

[fangirlxwritesx67]

May Be Home, Chapter 12 Word count this chapter: 1820 Catch up here: Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.  Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. 

Characters: au rockstar!Dean Winchester x OFC Sasha. Song: Sounds of Someday, Radio Company Music

Tags: 18+, sex, smut, lots and lots of m/f sex in different ways (fingering, oral, penetrative) in different places (bed, table, car, shower), no condoms ever, enthusiastic consent, Daddy kink, language, lots of alcohol, sexy eating, etc

The warm golden sounds of Dean’s voice poured from Sasha’s phone and wrapped around her heart. 

Sounds of Someday, and he had recorded it back in that blues bar. Sasha recognized it immediately and remembered the feeling of him singing just to her. Oh, but he was! This song was for her, all for her. Sasha closed her eyes as hot tears flowed down her cheeks.  

By the time the video ended, Sasha was absolutely wrecked. The emotion in Dean’s voice, the meaning in his lyrics, had called to her since she first heard him sing. The desire in this song was so strong, it knocked the wind out of her.  

Knowing that at last, he was really singing for, longing for her was overwhelming. She held her phone for a long time before she finally tapped out a text, words falling far short of expressing the gratitude in her heart:  Thank you.

He must’ve been waiting for her because immediately, her phone buzzed in her hand. She answered, only to hear silence. 

“Dean?” she queried.

His breathing on the other end was ragged, broken. 

“I need to see you again,” he finally choked out. “There’s- we have so much to talk about.“

Sasha nodded silently. There was something Dean absolutely had to know. “Rowena and Sam asked me for a meeting today.” 

Dean swore softly.

“No, I understand more now. You told me the truth. What I don’t understand is why you went along with it. You let your brother and your manager run your life like that?” 

Sasha heard Dean huff out a hard laugh.

"They had me actually convinced that you didn’t want anything to do with me. I didn’t know until this week that you were still interested.”

Sasha shook her head. She didn’t know if this was something that they could sort out.

“Please, can I see you again? If we can talk, we can fix this. We can start over, try again.”

“Can we? It’s gonna take work, from both of us.”

“You’re worth the work, hon.” He paused. “I’m in if you are, if it’s for you, for us. 

Sasha shook her head but ultimately agreed. “We can try, I’ll do that. But how?” 

…

They agreed to meet at the hotel where they had always met before, but Sasha couldn’t sleep that night. Her thoughts and emotions were still a storm of conflict. Dean was absolutely serious about this, she had no doubt. They were both ready for a fresh start, another shot. Could they rebuild, together? 

Sasha woke up to a knock on the door. She had planned to get up earlier, shower and get dolled up before Dean saw her. In the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. Why not let him see her like this? She gave her teeth a quick brush, pushed her tousled wavy hair behind her ears, and called it good. 

She opened the door and there he was, Dean Winchester, her Dean. His hands scuffed nervously over his thighs.

“Dean,” she murmured, her voice catching on his name, as she stood back to let him in.

“Sasha,” he answered, his face lit up with so much hope and longing that she bit back a sob. The air between them was choked with words unspoken.

Sasha sat back on the bed. Dean took two steps and sank to his knees in front of her. He reached out with both his hands. She willingly slipped her hands into his warm grasp.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes were wide and bright. “You’re the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. Sweetheart, you’re a gift. I’d do anything, anything, to not lose you again.”

Tears streaked down Sasha’s face. Dean was earnest and open in a way that she had never seen before. She was absolutely convinced that he meant every word. 

“You deserve so much more.” His voice broke, that wonderful voice that she could never resist. “Let me be good to you, let me try for you. Sasha, stay.” 

She couldn’t speak, only nod. Dean stood up and drew her with him. 

He reached out one hand and stroked her face with just his fingertips, carefully, tenderly - as if he were afraid that she would burst like a soap bubble under his touch. 

She felt the last bit of anger inside her float away in a million tiny fragments. He was the one who had broken her heart, and the only one who could heal it again. He was already picking up the pieces with every word, with every look, with every touch. 

Sasha let herself lean into Dean, giving into the longing between them, trusting him finally. She buried her face in his chest, savoring the whiskey smoke smell of him. Her fingers curled into his shirt, grabbing greedy handfuls. Safe in his arms, she let herself go. Dean pulled her in closer as deep sobs wracked her body, unleashing all her feelings in the shelter of his embrace. He held her tight, stroking her hair and soothing her. 

Gradually her breathing evened out. She felt the familiar rasp of his calloused fingers trace her cheek and relaxed into his touch, basking in the warmth of his skin on hers. He tilted her chin up ever so slightly and bent his head, and she met his lips with hers. 

What she was feeling was too fragile for words, hesitant and hopeful. She took a deep shaky breath but anything else she was going to say was lost under Dean’s mouth on hers. He covered her lips, her face, her hair, her hands with kisses; and between every single one, he whispered her name, deep and reverent.

So many questions still hung unanswered between them, but only one mattered in that moment, the one they were asking and answering over and over again with their bodies: 

Do you still want me? Yes, they answered with every press of their lips together.

Yes, they answered with every beat of their hearts.

Yes, they answered in the frantic, hopeful way they clung to each other. 

They couldn’t bear to let go. They would never be apart again.

Words felt too unwieldy, too dangerous to unleash into the fragile air around them. Sasha and Dean fell back on the thing they had always shared, their common ground since the beginning.

She had always enjoyed being with him, never been ashamed to bare herself in front of him, but this was a whole new self reveal. It seemed like Dean agreed because they were pulling off their clothes as fast as they could without losing contact with each other. 

She found herself laid back on the bed with Dean rising over her, strong arms caging her in, insistent hips rolling up between her thighs. 

She didn’t have any words, didn’t know how to express everything she was thinking. She let her body speak for her, rising up to arch against him. Her hands grabbed for him, pulling him close.

“Please,” the whimper fell from her lips unbidden. 

Dean pressed Sasha back against the pillows, covering her face and neck with passionate kisses. Sasha wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him desperately. Her nails pressed dark half-moons into his freckled and inked skin. 

Dean’s eyes never left her face as he slid slowly into her. A long moan fell from Sasha’s mouth. She had missed this, missed the way Dean could push and stretch and fill her; the way he dragged out, slow and grinding, before slamming back into her; the way he rolled up against her with perfect friction.

Sasha’s eyes fluttered closed as she spread her hips farther, inviting him, begging for him. Dean put a hand on one knee, pushing it up and towards the mattress. She mirrored the gesture with her other leg, drawing him in, taking him deeper.

She folded her legs over his ass, pressing him close. She crossed her ankles as if locking onto him.

Dean’s pace was steady and relentless. He quickly pushed Sasha to a place where she was coming unraveled. The warm aching need between her legs spread between her whole body. She was floating, unmoored from everything, lost in the rhythm of Dean and her together. 

She didn’t even know that she was sobbing again until Dean’s voice reached her. 

"Sasha,” he sounded far away. His hand cupping her chin gently brought her eyes into focus on his face. 

Sasha felt for the first time that hot, fat tears were tracking down her cheeks. 

“Is this okay?” he murmured as he traced away tears with his thumb. 

She nodded and buried her face in his shoulder, pulling his face down next to hers. “Need you,” she begged.

Dean began to move again. She needed him to keep pushing her, filling her. She was desperate, scrambling to get back to that floating weightless place.

Sasha felt her body wind higher and higher with tension, Dean pushing her farther and farther with his body. She felt like she was skidding along a cliff, gasping for air, grabbing for anything, on the edge of release. The only constant was Dean, in and on and around her and-

“Fuuuuuuck,” he breathed as she felt herself clench around him, over and over, needy and desperate and- 

A groan tore from her throat and her head tipped back against the pillow. Her vision went completely black as she came harder than she ever had.

When she found herself in her body again, she opened her eyes to see nothing but Dean. She heard him moan her name and then his eyes rolled back in his head. He was pounding into her so hard and so deep and-

She cried out helplessly, caught up in the wave of another orgasm. That was when Dean leaned into her one final time, his hips stuttering as he lost himself deep inside her.

After a moment, he rolled over, pulling her on top of him. Sasha stayed pressed against him, her tears trickling down his chest. Eventually, her breathing leveled out.

Dean held her close with one arm and used his free hand to brush the tears from her cheeks with gentle fingertips. 

"Are you ready to talk now?” She heard his words under her touch, deep inside his chest. 

She shook her head. There were still too many tangled thoughts and feelings for her to express.

Dean sat up, pulling her with him. His hand cupped her face as he kissed the tears from her cheeks, and then kissed her lips again. 

“You know, I think a stiff drink would help.”

Sasha couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face.

“I have a bar in my room,” Dean said. "Pack up your stuff, and come down the hall.” He turned on the charm as he continued. “I’m not making the mistake of letting you go again. From now on, you’re staying with me." 

… A/N: this took a little longer to get out to you, thanks to my beta MJ pushing me one more time to write my heart out. Thank you, hon. I’m proud of this.  … Chapter 13, and more ..

SPN First Last and Always: @awesomesusiebstuff @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @divadinag @flamencodiva @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @the-chocolate-moose  @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting

Sam Girl For Life: @lilsylvia

Dean Curious: @adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma  @mrsjenniferwinchester @stoneyggirl @supersassyprobablysad @wayward-gypsy

Rowena My Queen: @lilsylvia @marril96

#may be home #actual rockstar jensen ackles #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x ofc #supernatural fanfiction #fangirlxwritesx67

[the-omni-princess]

Frozen Heart [Chapter 7]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary:  After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?

Word Count: 4.4K

Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)

Warnings:  mentions of: violence, torture, war, overall nasty stuff, angst, then so much fluff you’ll cry

A/N:

If something in my warning is too triggering, let me know and I’ll give you a basic summary. All of it is at the beginning of this chapter FYI

I’ll be on vacation until August 11thwith no wifi, so bare some patience with me for the next part so here's a decently bigger chapter to make you feel better

[Series Masterlist]  [Masterlist]

----

He wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, smiling softly as you nuzzled into the furs. “Before I start to tell you, I just want to warn you. It’s not pretty, and I respect you and don’t want to lie to you or sugar coat it. I’m not sure how much either of us can take before I’ll need to stop, but if it becomes too much, please, let me know?” He gave you a sad smile, holding onto your hands tenderly.

“Bucky, I’m not a child, I can handle it. I promise, but promise yourself the same thing, don’t push yourself to far.” You squeezed his hands lightly, giving him your full support and attention.

He nodded, sighing softly as his gaze dropped to your interwoven hands, already putting himself into the headspace needed to tell you the truth. “Then let’s begin, all the way at the beginning.”

-

“As you know,” Bucky started, “The Northern lands share a now small border with the Hydra Kingdom. As Hydra kept growing, they kept pushing that line, sending more and more unannounced envoys into our Kingdom. Those, my father forgave, saying it wasn’t his war to fight. It took two burned down and plundered villages before we alright declared war on them. The South followed suit, and we quickly formed an alliance with the Wakandians and Asgardians, both already engaged in war with Hydra. A few more plundered towns on our border so father decided to send me, saying it would boost troop morale, or build character or something like that. Months later your idiot brother decided it would be a great idea to jump into a war I didn’t want to fight in to start with, I was forced to go with no complaints as Becca cried, while Steve went to be a hero.” Three years older than Bucky, Lady Rebecca had been married to a commoner from Asgard, abdicating the Throne. Becca was always a great person to be around, and you couldn’t help but hope she was alright, wherever in the world she was currently hiding.

You smiled faintly, letting your fingers trace patterns into his palms. “Years of pointless fighting, Stevie and I back to back or side by side on horseback as we tried to push Hydra back into their own country. We were on an envoy to capture one of their officials, Lord Rumlow, as he is the general of their fleet. He, naturally, would have knowledge of troop plans and the next village targets. To make a long story shorter, it was a trap. We were out gunned, out manned, and they slaughtered my men in front of me, slaughtered my horse New York, and they just kept coming. Stevie and I were cornered, the gates to the outside closing. I pushed him through, just as it closed behind him. I was trapped, and to top it all off, I had no bullets left so I couldn’t even end my life before they could take me. They took me in front of him. Steve had to watch as they dragged me off kicking and fighting with all I got.” He shuddered, a frown etched onto his features. He paused, and you continued to listen carefully, already leaning towards him.

“That’s when the true nightmare begun. They knew who I was, my station, everything. Before they even begun their torture, they knew more about Steve and me than we thought. They tortured troop movements out of me, they didn’t care about many kingdom secrets, only how to easily get into the castles and how to beat the very army I was supposed to be fighting for. They drowned me, starved me, dehydrated me, burned and shocked me until I couldn’t remember my name, only my identification number.” You frowned as he continued. “They cut me, hit me, they did so much simply because it was ‘fun.’ They experimented on my body, saying it should be an honor for me to die in the name of science. They would bleed me out within an inch of my life, toss me in a cold rotting cell naked until I healed just enough for them to continue.” He let go of one of your hands, and you bit back a small whimper, he definitely would not be able to see you right now. He needed support and love, so you reigned in your feelings on the cruelty, watching as he ran a hand through his hair before adhering to your hands again, as you were determined to not let him see anything but love on your face if he looked towards you.

“The day they cut off my arm was the day the feeling in the pit of my stomach grew. I had already given up hope Steve or anyone else would find me. Hell, I couldn’t even remember his name, only his face. They moved me around so often, I didn’t think it was weird when they grabbed me, tossing me into some chair. I had clothes on, for once, but they immediately tied me down. I was clinging to you and Steve and my parents and Becca, my home. Your faces, trying to remember your names, random memories of things you would say floating in my head. I didn’t even comprehend what was happening, my eyes were both too swollen to notice the camera on me, so I didn’t even grasp they had cut my arm until I heard screaming. It took me a while to realize it was my screams. I clung to you and Steve and Becca’s voices, telling me you were with me, but I couldn’t stop screaming or crying. I thought I was going hysterical. Blinding pain.” He took a shaky breath, and you gently wiped the tears that started to fall down his face.

“Take your time, My Love, I’m here,” you kissed his hands again, encouraging him to continue with unsteady breaths.

“It was a few months before Steve found me. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one Hydra had taken and experimented and tortured. Most of the Howling Commandoes were men he rescued from Hydra. It took me a month to heal, and we lost a lot of land in that time. When I was finally healed enough to fight, and started regaining my memories, I didn’t hesitate to locate every Hydra base they had taken me to, so we could destroy them all. They were losing ground on all fronts, that’s why they sent those assassins. Steve got his letters first, since we were closer to your borders, that there was an assassination attempt that was thwarted. I started to worry about my own family. We had just destroyed another base when I received the news my parents were killed.” He took a deep breath.

“All the men around me just bowed, and I had to take a throne I never was meant to have, in the middle of a war I didn’t want to be in and in the middle of my own self-loathing. They took one of the few things I had left, and I snapped. I took Shuri’s gift of an arm simply as a means to end Hydra. I killed any Hydra soldier I got my hands on, I lost all emotion. I became a shell; my only goals were to protect the Howlies and Steve and end this stupid war and end Hydra. I was frightening my own men, to the point where only Steve and the Howlies would trust me or speak to me without fear. Guess I succeeded in ending the war; Hydra retreated and called for a treaty.” He said the last sentence with such bitterness it made your heart crumble.

“I came back to a cold throne. A place that didn’t feel like a home, that didn’t feel earned. After months of self-loathing, destroying the king’s study, and wallowing in my own self-pity, Steve practically forced me to the South. He convinced me to reset up the engagement, and I’m glad he did. Doll, you’re one of the few good things left in my life.” He looked up towards you for the first time since he began his story, pain and sorrow deep in his eyes, sniffling softly.

You gave him an encouraging smile. “May I hug you Bucky?” You wanted to be careful, knowing that he might back off or get standoffish if you tried to do something he was uncomfortable with. He nodded, his bottom lip trembling faintly as he held back tears. That sight is what made you launch at him, pulling his head into your chest gently. “Oh, my sweet baby boy,” you whispered gently, tenderly running your fingers through his hair. You felt his beard itch at your collarbones, but you ignored it, only focusing on comforting him. “You were gone, and it was terrible, but it’s over now, My Love, My Darling, My Heart, you’re safe, and you’re alive.” You rambled sweet nothings into his ear, protectively wrapping your body around him. You could feel tears start to wet your shirt, making you hold onto him tighten as he sobbed into your chest. “I’m here, I’m always here for you,” you continued to whisper. “I’ll always protect you, I’ll love you forever and always.” You gently lay the two of you, Bucky quickly curling up against you.

You fell asleep like that, Bucky pressed against your chest, lulled to sleep by the sound of your heartbeat, and you, soothingly playing with his hair and calming him. The last thing he thought before his world turned black was how he would do absolutely anything to keep you happy and safe.

----

You woke up first, Bucky still cuddled against you. You smiled faintly, gently running your fingers through his hair, adoring how peaceful he looked in his sleep. You kissed his nose lightheartedly, “Wake up, My Love,” you whispered softly, beaming as his nose crunched up with a groan.

“Five more minutes, y/n/n,” he mumbled gruffly.

You laughed, “Scott mentioned how much work you need to attend to. My King, you’ve been gone a month, you have work to do.” You peppered his face with light kisses, making him smile through a playful groan.

“Don’t wanna leave,” he nuzzled his face into your neck, making you giggle at his childlike antics.

“Bucky, please, before one of the guards or maids runs in,” you teased, still running your hands through his hair.

He groaned again, his breath and beard tickling your neck, setting you into a fit of giggles. “Finnnneeee,” he kissed your neck lightly, sending a warm shiver down your spine. He smirked as he sat up, “You look absolutely lovely in the morning.” You blushed, giving him a pointed look, which he replied with a chuckle, kissing your forehead before getting up to change.

You followed him towards the bathroom, now noticing the new extra toiletries clearly meant for you. He changed quickly as you brushed your teeth, stretching your arms above your head as you fell onto the bed once more, hearing the sink turn on then off again. A now kingly looking Bucky appeared at the doorway to the bathroom, making you smile warmly at him. He came close without a word, pressing tender kisses to your head, smiling at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

An idea formed in your head as you draped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer just as he was about to pull away. “May I have another kiss, My King?” You teased, giving him a mischievous pout.

He chuckled, coming closer to stand in between your legs, “Why of course, My Queen.” He leaned in, and you moved closer, cutting the distance until your lips met. You melted against him, kissing him tenderly, giggling as he nipped at your lip playfully.

You deepened the kiss, running your tongue against his lips, tasting the fresh mint. He bit your bottom lip again, this time sucking softly, sending warmth through your body as a moan escaped your lips. “Bucky…” you murmured breathlessly as you broke away for air. You were already breathing heavily, and he had barley even begun. Gods, how were you going to be able to survive love making with this man if his simple kisses sent fire through you and made you dizzy? He seemed just as bothered, smirking, his eyes dark, pupils dilated.

A knock on the chamber door before it opened made him groan, not letting you go quite yet though. Scott stood there, bowing quickly, “I apologize for interrupting, Your Majesty, Your Highness, the nobles demand that the King be at the meeting scheduled to start in a few minutes.”

You chuckled, “Told ya, Bucky. Go, I’ll be roaming the halls if you need me.” He nodded, ignoring Scott’s presence as he pulled you in for another kiss. Desperation laced lips pulled another small moan from your throat, making your face darken in embarrassment. “Go,” you whispered softly as he pressed his forehead against your own. “I’ll explore.”

“Stay safe, My Love,” he kissed your lips once more before following Scott out the door. You fell to the bed, grinning as you touched your lips, still feeling the way he bit your lip.

----

A few hours later you were doing as you said you would, roaming the halls, Sam beside you. “It feels isolated.” He finally stated, the hallways mostly empty.

You sighed, “I plan on changing that. One step at a time though.” You were completely unfamiliar in this new castle, the passageways were confusing, and you couldn’t remember much of the layout from your childhood to help. A few wrong turns and you found the throne room, noticing how dark and uninviting it looked. You frowned, approaching the throne you would soon sit upon. The entire palace was clean, but it felt superficial, like a concealed darkness was hiding in the wall. Yep, this definitely has to change.

You walked out the door, roaming the halls again until you found a maid, quickly telling her your plans to liven up the place. She nodded before scurrying off, Sam chuckled behind you. “Oh, I can’t wait to see this go down.”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s going to have to live with it. This entire place deserves some warmth, some love.” Continuing down the castle walls, you managed to find the King’s personal library, making you grin, already forming a plan of attack. You were quick to change how the relatively small room looked, pulling the curtains back to let the sun in, instantly changing the look of the space. You then found a few scented candles, and lit them, just out of reach on a desk but close enough that the scent of lavender and lilies filled the room. The room was smaller than the king’s chambers, but it was filled to the brim with stories waiting to be told. “I know your break is coming soon, Sam, feel free to stand at the door if you don’t want to join me.”

He responded with a shrug, “See you eventually, Y/n, holler if you need anything.” He closed the library doors behind him. You ran your hand across the spines of the books, one catching your eye. It was dark red, with no cover page or title, it simply jumped into the story. You found a few pillows and blankets from an adjacent closet and set up a makeshift window seat, gladly pulling your knees to your chest and using the afternoon light to read the mysterious book.

You skipped lunch, a fact that was evident by your stomach growling a few hours later as you read. You groaned, not daring to move from your comfortable position. You heard rustling in the hallway, before the doors opened, a worried looking Bucky standing at the entrance. You placed the book down, smiling brightly at him, “Why hello, My Love.”

He visibly calmed, making you realize how tense he had looked when he had first walked in. He sat across from you on the windowsill, taking in the small changes you had set up in the room, including the now organized desk in the corner. “I couldn’t find you for an hour, Doll, I should have known you would have found this place by now.”

His right hand lightly rested on your left, and you smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry Buck, I got a bit caught up in the fantasy world.” You noticed his eyes linger on the lit candles, taking in the floral smell. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m livening up the place, gods know it needs a little love.”

He chuckled, “So I’ve heard. One of the maids said you ordered more flowers to be placed around the castle, which is a great start to give this place some love.”

You smiled warmly at him, “How was the meetings?” You sat up a bit, stretching you back after being hunched over a book for so long.

“Boring, the usual drama,” he joked. “A few interesting prospects though.” He shrugged before glancing out the window, the sun setting just above the mountains. “Would you care to take a walk with me around the castle, My Love? I do believe you asked for a tour, and your chambers are ready.”

You smiled, closing the book and placing it on the seat as you stood. You stretched again as you replied, “I’d love that.” He took notice of your makeshift window seat, already making plans in his head as he offered you his hand. You gladly took it and followed him through the halls.

After showing you the entirety of the Eastern Wing, he led you through parts of the Western Wing, which held both of your chambers, and the library you had found. He smiled mischievously at you as you turned a corner, both of your personal guards staying nearby but not breathing down your throats. He glanced towards them, and looked towards you again, already arm in arm he leaned in closer and whispered in your ear, “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” you replied, holding his arm tighter. He grinned, before sprinting around a corner with you in tow. After a few bends and passageways, the two of you stopped behind a corner, effectively losing both of your guards. You stifled laughs, covering your mouth as you playfully hit his arm. “Buck! They’re just trying to protect us! Poor Sam doesn’t even know the castle yet!” You whisper yelled.

He chuckled, “That’s the point, they’re overbearing,” he whined, pulling you in closer. “And I want you all to myself.” He used his metal hand which was at the small of your back to gently tug you into a kiss. You giggled against his lips, your arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss. He cupped your jaw with his right hand, smiling into your lips as the two of you kissed, finally alone. You carded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. The two of you only broke off when you could hear Sam and Scott running past the passageway you two were hiding in.

“You’re a menace, Buck,” you teased, trying to catch your breath, your foreheads pressed together.

Bucky shrugged, smiling playfully, “But I’m your menace, y/n/n,” his lips brushed past yours as he spoke.

“That you are. My Bucky.” You let your eyes close, a blissful smile lighting up your face.

“Come on, doll, I have another place to show you.” He broke away from your arms, still holding tight to your arm as he led the way through a few more secluded halls before he pulled you outside on a large balcony. The balcony was at the top of the castle, the only place with a better view was the King’s Chambers, but this balcony was noticeably different. It had a few flower pots filled with pink heathers as well as beanbag chairs, blankets, and pillows in a makeshift pillow fort that opened up to see the sky. “I heard how much you wanted flowers to liven up the place, so I decided that a makeshift garden could help for now, at least until I can get an indoors greenhouse, that way you can have flowers year-round and not just the cherry blossoms that bloom in winter.”

Your eyes widened, taking it all in but looking towards him bewildered as he mentioned a greenhouse. “A green house? Really Bucky?” You asked, pure hope and joy in your voice.

“Why of course, you only say the word, and anything can be done, so when you said flowers it gave me the idea of the greenhouse. I had been thinking about it already, since I know how much you love the garden back South, and a greenhouse sounds like the perfect idea.” He grinned giddily, completely enjoying the childlike wonder in your expressions. “Besides, I want to spoil my fiancé.” You couldn’t stop smiling, tackling him in a tight hug, much to his utter amusement. “Consider it a courting gift, My Love.”

You pulled back a bit, looking up at him confused. “Courting gift? Another Northern custom I’m assuming?”

He chuckled, nodding, “Royals don’t really participate in Courting, since most of our marriages are arranged, but I did promise you to teach you every part of our culture.”

“That you did. So, what does a courting fully entail?” You still hung in his arms, as he easily picked you up, his hands gripping your thighs, gently placing you both on the pillows and fur blankets on the ground. You straddled his hips naturally, now just a few inches above him.

“Well, it mostly entails me spoiling you rotten, though I suppose I was already going to do that. Dates, gifts, holding hands, kissing, any little thing that shows you I am yours and shows the world that I am yours. Not every gift is a material possession, most mean something more than materials, like how we are currently in the best stargazing spot in the entire kingdom.” He smiled knowingly, and you decided to look up, knowing the sun was completely set now. You gasped softly, taking in the sheer number of stars and the different positions than you were used to. “We’re far enough away from the South that we have a slightly different night sky, and our culture has different constellations, and we are up in the mountains so there’s little to no light pollution.” His hands were currently at your hips, drawing patterns into your waist as he smiled up at you.

“Bucky, its beautiful,” you whispered softly, awestruck.

“And I will be fixing that window seat in the library, make it more comfortable for you to read,” he said softly, gauging your reaction.

Your eyes diverged from the stars, smiling down at him. “You truly are spoiling me, My Love.”

“I want to, y/n/n. You’re my moon and my stars and my sun, my world, my everything.” You tenderly leaned against his forehead, contentedly soaking in his affectionate words.

“You’re my heavens and my earth, my beginning and end, my everything,” you murmured, letting your eyes close. “I would do anything for you, without a second thought.” You smirked, and he noticed the mischief hiding on your lips, he realized he tended to stare a lot at your lips now a days. “And if you cross me, I’ll just kick your ass like those men at the village.”

He laughed, sending vibrations through your chest, making you realize how you were pressed up against him. “I do not doubt that for a second, My Queen.”

“Not yet I’m not, but I do enjoy hearing that,” you opened your eyes, poking his nose playfully.

He seemed unable to stop smiling as you spoke, your words a melody that acted like a balm to his very soul, soothing him. “Good, because I enjoy saying it, and one day everyone will call you that and I’ll have to resort to other nicknames again.” He sighed dramatically, a theatrical frown on his face, sending you in a fit of giggles.

“You absolute dork! It doesn’t matter what other people call me, I only care about what you call me, though I am partial to ‘doll’ for some unknown reason.” It was his turn to laugh.

“Perhaps because I have called you that pet name since we were younger?”

“No, it can’t be that, you’ve got a completely different hair situation, it’s not the same!” You sighed dramatically, mirroring his earlier antics, making him chuckle as he pulled you closer to his body.

“I have been thinking of shaving, perhaps a haircut is also in order. What do you think, doll?” You carded your fingers through his hair before you cupped his jaw in your palms, your thumbs rubbing circles on his cheeks.

“I think you should keep your hair long enough for me to play with it, but other than that, go wild, try something new, life’s too short to not try new hairstyles.” You shrugged.

“Definitely noted, doll,” he grinned, one of his hands leaving your hips to press against the hand at his face as he nuzzled his face into your palm, making you giggle.

“Come here, you big goof,” you tilted his head up, tenderly kissing him, and easily letting it go deeper as you and Buck explored each other’s mouths.

After another heated make out session, you pressed your forehead to his again. “What happens to complete the Courting Ritual?” you asked in a soft voice.

“I present you with an engagement ring, a marriage ritual, and then usually a Mating ritual, but I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable or not ready for yet, My Love.”

You nodded, “One day, with time.” You mumbled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s call it a night, My Love.”

“Certainly, My Dove.” The two of you stood, Bucky happily walking hand in hand with you back to your newly arranged chambers.

You placed a gentle chaste kiss against his lips as you stood outside your chamber doors. “I will see you tomorrow, sweet dreams, Bucky.”

He smiled, “You as well, My Queen.” Before he could even take a step back from you, you pulled him into a hug, and he melted against you.

“If you wake with more night terrors, wake me up, I’ll gladly keep you company.” You whisper against his ear, careful so the guards at your door couldn’t hear.

He breathed out harshly but nodded, “I will. Sleep well, My Love.” He kissed your nose before walking off to his chambers, which were just down the corridor.

You said goodnight to the guards, closed the doors and quickly got changed into pajamas. You took a quick glance around the new room, it looked similar to your one in the South, only it had the same style as Bucky’s room and it was a bit bigger. You climbed into bed and laid back, smiling as you fell asleep, already thinking about your blue-eyed king.

----

Tags:

Frozen Heart Tags:

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@marvelgirl7

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Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings

Tags are open, message me for one! Like, comment, reblog, tell me your thoughts! <3

I’ll be on vacation until August 11thwith no wifi, so bare some patience with me for the next part and for tags please!

#bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes #frozen heart #arranged marriage au #childhood friends to lovers #royalty au #King!Bucky #Princess!reader #read the warnings #my writing

[thenewlarislynn]

Coffee Stained Confusion Ch 11

<Last Chapter                          First Chapter                                Next Chapter>

~~

You screamed as the elevator dropped, the world outside seemingly crashing down around you. The force of the fall propelling you backwards, you careened towards the glass wall. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced yourself for impact. Just a moment before you fell through the glass a steady hand grabbed your wrist. 

“I’ve got you doll,” Bucky pulled you close to him. Your forehead pressed against his shoulder as you tried to take some deep breaths. The elevator continued to drop and Bucky wrapped his arms around you to shelter you from the crash. As you neared the ground, the elevator stopped suddenly and the doors slid open. 

The elevator was stuck between two floors, and the opening seemed to be shrinking. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. The elevator hasn’t fully stopped, which means once we pass this floor the doors will shut again and it will fall all the way into the basement, which is farther down than you’d expect. I’m going to give you a boost and you can crawl out. Alright?”

“Wait, what about you? I can’t leave you trapped in here! There has to be another way.”

“Doll, there’s no way I’m fitting through that opening. Besides, I’ve survived a worse fall than this. But we don’t have much time and if I don’t get you out of here you might not. And I,” he paused, his voice almost a whisper, “I can’t risk losing you again.” 

“Alright,” you replied “just please, make it out?” 

He nodded in response and then lifted you through the opening. You pulled yourself up and with a little maneuvering you were on steady ground again. Not a moment after you made it out the doors snapped shut and with a sickening snapping sound the elevator plummeted again. 

As you gained your bearings you realized a blaring alarm was sounding throughout the tower. All the lights were off, except for a flashing red emergency beacon at the end of each hall. FRIDAY’s voice spoke over the din. “Prisoner containment breach. Code 10-A. Maximum security.” The words were repeated several times and you finally realized what they meant. Alicia was gone. Then only one thought remained. You had to get to Bucky. 

Racing down the hall you found a set of stairs leading down. Pushing the door open, you ran as quickly as you could to the bottom of the stairs. As you were about to exit to the lobby you saw a door out of the corner of your eye. The sign next to it revealed it to lead to the basement. Remembering Bucky’s words, you tried to pull the door open but it wouldn’t budge. Swiftly undoing your hair you pulled out two hairpins and jammed them into the lock. Twisting them around took a minute, but finally they pushed the cylinders into place, and the lock opened with a satisfying click.

As you opened the door and began running again you said a silent prayer of thanks for the alcoholic foster parents that always locked you out. You finally made it down to the bottom of the staircase, only to be greeted by winding catacombs of record shelves and long-forgotten motheaten papers. 

Compared to the rest of the tower, the basement was shockingly not up to date. The sirens and flashing lights were left behind at the end of the stairway. Here, your way was lit only by a flickering fluorescent bulb that clearly needed replacing.

A cloud of grimy dust rose from a far corner of the room and your heart skipped a beat. You walked through the messy labyrinth and longed for more light. Sparing a glance at your hands, you paused. You closed your eyes and held your breath as the fire came to you. It was lighter, gentler than the roaring flames in the video Alicia had shown you. It was reminiscent of a warm candle on a cold winter’s night. 

But still, looking at it flooded your memory with the horrors of what you had done. Your heart felt heavy and shame flooded your senses. The flame in your hand flickered and you stumbled, catching yourself at the last second. An aching began in your ribs and you cried out. Gasping in pain, you tried to think of what could have caused it. The shattered glass from the elevators window left several cuts along your skin but that was the full extent of your injuries. 

Finding the source of the pain was a problem for another time, however. You picked yourself back up and sped quickly to where the dust was coming from. Reaching the scene you cursed under your breath. 

The elevator shaft lie in shambles, a heap of loose wires and bits of metal. You called out, “Bucky? Can you hear me?” No response. You tried again, this time with some success. A low mumbling came from the pile and some of the wreckage seemed to move. Out of the corner of your eye a piece of metal moved. Upon closer inspection you saw it was Bucky’s arm, partially obscured under some of the debris. 

You approached the wreck, carefully stepping over some sparking wires. “Bucky, it’s me. I’m here, don’t worry.”

A mumbled “Doll…” came from under the pile and your heart broke. 

“I’m here. Just hang on.” You tried to lift the metal sheet but it was covered by tiny shards of glass. Cursing, you ignored the cuts appearing and tried again. The metal budged, but not enough. You noticed a pole a few feet away and grabbed it. Planning to use it as leverage, you carefully wedged it under a slanted part of the metal and pushed down. It shifted downwards, and with all your strength you pushed it off. 

You had to hold back a gasp when you saw him. Crimson blood pooled near his head, matting his hair. He had bruises forming on his other arm, which gently cradled what you assumed to be broken ribs. 

“Oh my God, Bucky-”

He cut you off. “I’m alright, doll. Just help me out of here.”  He struggled to sit up, and you stopped him. 

“No, Bucky, you need a medic, I’ll go get help.”

“Listen, whatever happened to us must have affected the whole tower. Let me guess, there were sirens blaring when you got out of the elevator?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “but there has to be someone who can help you.

“I think I’m well enough to go up a flight of stairs. It’ll be fine.”

You gently grabbed his hand and helped him stand. The only way out would be through the maze of a way in. You couldn’t risk trying to find a shortcut and end up getting lost. 

“Alright, here’s what we’ll do. You need to step over this wire here, but be careful, it was sparking just a few minutes ago.” Before the words even left your mouth the wire sparked back to life and a blaze encircled you both.” 

“Doll, now would be a real good time to use those powers of yours.” 

“I can try, but I-”

“Look at me,” Bucky said, “you are our only way out of here. It’s a cruel twist of fate that you have to do this right now, but you have to. Otherwise those sparks will catch all this junk on fire, and we’ll go up in smoke with it.”

Closing your eyes you felt the flames near you and reached out to them. There was a connection, a spark if you will, and with one thought the flames went out. “I knew you could do it. Now let’s go before they start again, okay?” 

You nodded, still feeling the connection in the back of your mind. Fear laced itself through you. If putting that fire out was so easy, starting one would be even easier. You could feel Bucky’s hand on your arm as you led him through the basement. You cared about him, which made him an already bigger target than before. 

Your mind raced with worst case scenarios. If HYDRA was able to brainwash you before, what if they did it again? What if they made you hurt him? Or even worse, what if you hurt him while you were yourself.

“Hey, I know that look. You’re overthinking things, aren’t you?” 

“I’m scared, Bucky. I can’t hurt anyone anymore,” you whispered, “I can’t hurt you.”

“Listen doll,” you looked up, surprised he had heard you, “sometimes things don’t go the way we plan. Sometimes people get hurt- or killed- because of the things we do. Willingly or unwillingly.

That’s part of the risk of all of this. When you have powers, and you can do things that no one else can do, there’s always a risk. It can be hard to come to terms with. HYDRA brainwashed me for so long, and it took me a while to separate the actions of the Winter Soldier from my own.

“But my parents-”

“You were young, you had no real control over what your powers or any real idea of what they could do. Looking at you now, what you did back there, that shows your control.” He looked into your eyes, and you knew he meant it. 

“You’re right,” you replied, as you reached the top of the stairs. “Thank you, truly.”

“Hey, I couldn’t let you wallow in self-pity forever, could I?” he smirked.

You laughed, “No, I guess you couldn’t. Now please see a medic. You’ve definitely received some sort of head trauma.” As you pushed open the basement door you flinched. 

A look of concern flashed across Bucky’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my ribs. They were hurting earlier. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Bucky glared at you. “Fine I’ll give it a look.” Very carefully you lifted the hem of your shirt to reveal a dark bruise forming around a freshly inked tattoo. 

“You didn’t happen to get some new ink before any of this happened, did you?” 

You shook your head ‘no’. Alicia must’ve done this. The tattoo was a detailed phoenix with flames surrounding it. 

“How symbolic,” Bucky scoffed, “on the bright side Stark has a tattoo remover here at the tower. Too many drunken mistakes, I guess.”

You thought about it for a moment before answering, “No, I think I might keep it.” 

“Are you sure?” he questioned, “It will only serve as a reminder of what happened.”

“They may have branded a phoenix, but I get to choose what ashes I’m rising from.” 

~~~

Taglist:

@sydneyisnotawriter

Since many of you celebrate Easter tomorrow I decided to post a day early! From now one though, I’ve decided to make Sunday my official update day, and if I have time to write there may be an extra update during the week! Like always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Love you all <3

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes and reader #bucky x reader #james barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #the winter soldier #hydra #shield #sam wilson #the falcon #the avengers #reader insert #marvel fic #marvel cinematic universe #my wriitng #coffee stained confusion

[brialavellan]

It has been 20 years since Inquisitor ‘Manehn Lavellan defeated Corypheus, and 18 years since the Exalted Council. Solas is furthering his plans and so far, all efforts to stop him seem to be in vain….until the Well of Sorrows begins to speak to ‘Manehn once more. Led by ancient magics and beset by enemies from Ferelden and Orlais to Antiva and Tevinter, ‘Manehn must gather allies old and new in a race against time to defeat Solas - at any cost.

(NOW ON AO3)

Chapter 1 ||  Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8  || Chapter 9  || Chapter 10 

CH 11: For the Love of the People

There were no screams.

No cries of warning.

The only sound they heard was the soft whoosh of arrows through open windows, connecting with the head of each victim, their jaws agape in shock as their limp bodies slumped over from their chairs and fell to the floor.

Four elves in black leather armor slung their bows on their backs and crept into the small red-brick house. Briala, in her russet-brown leather armor, weaved her way around the pools of blood and hunched under the table where their victims had been playing a game of cards. 

She got on her hands and knees and her eyes scanned the floors and baseboards for any breaks in the pattern, her fingers tapping the wood to feel for anomalies. She noticed a loose spot. She rapped on the wood and the wood echoed back. She pulled out her dagger, wedged it between the wooden boards, and pushed down hard. The wood snapped and revealed another cache filled with pieces of rolled parchment. She gently pulled the scraps of parchment from the small earthen hole and began to sift through each one while her agents meandered around her, checking all ingresses for suspicious intruders or curious visitors. The writing was nearly illegible on all of them but when you put them together, the meaning was clear. 

Charter’s codebreakers (with Briala’s assistance) had deciphered the old notes they found on the dead elves at the Divine’s Ascension celebration. The codes had changed since they found the notes on the dead elves, but not by enough. Using the cache of notes that Briala had found in Val Royeaux’s catacombs, Briala and Charter were able to deduce that Fen’harel’s agents used a form of alphabetic substitution, with multiple substitution alphabets. There was a pattern to the changes, a method to the madness. It had to be this way, so that lower level associates did not have to work as feverishly to memorize more alphabets. Keys had to be easily memorized. 

And Briala had the latest key.

She did not have to work very hard to translate what she had found. And what she read merely confirmed her suspicions.

They had planned to assassinate Duke Alfonse Blanchard, whose duchy encompassed Emprise de Leon and with whom Briala had a strong trade relationship.

And they had planned to assassinate him tonight. 

Had planned. 

Until plans changed.

“Duke Blanchard?” one of the elves, a young dark skinned woman with a small afro groaned. “The youngest brother, he is. Last one left. Worked for him as a bard. Paid well. Bit of a tit. But not murder-worthy. Why’d Fen’harel want ‘im dead?”

“Don’t know. Don’t believe in self-appointed gods anyway,” her sibling, a young man with cornrows, said. “Where was he at when Halamshiral burned down, eh? Seems like a god could’ve stopped that, after all.” He chuckled darkly.

“It’s a ploy to weaken the Dales,” Briala said. “Fen’harel’s agents claim to fight for the people but…” she paused, “I know it doesn’t feel like enough, but we didn’t earn what we have through open warfare.”

“It’s stupid to assasinate with stabbing. Too messy,” piped a pale, freckled agent with crimson hair, changing the subject. “And killing the kids too. Come on! That’s just over…well…overkill.” 

“So this it for today?” an older, ruddy-faced elven woman with salt-and-pepper curls asked. “Or we’ve got more? I know a Red Jenny in Val Royeaux who could take a peek’n’sneak. Maybe find a few to shoot if she’s not tripping up a nob or two.”

“No, that’s too dangerous,” Briala said. “The rest will go to ground but they weren’t as much of an immediate threat as the one here and the two in Halamshiral. We’ve saved the lives of three allies. We’ve saved the Dales for now. You all did good work here.” 

“‘Course we did,” the man in the cornrows said with a grin and earned a ribbing from his sister. 

She pointed to the siblings. “Adele, Alain, you’ll come back with me to Emprise du Lion.” she said. “We need to inform Duke Blanchard that we just saved his life.” 

She walked up to the other two and handed them each a small roll of parchment. “Crimson and Lily, you will both stay here until I give you more orders. Burn these after you read them. Make sure Fen’harel doesn’t send more agents.” 

She paused and took a hard look at the faces of her agents. 

“I know it just looks like he is merely trying to weaken my alliances. But he is destroying everything you all have built. We built a home in the Dales, where elves are treated as free men. Where we live on our terms, not as second class citizens, but as equal people, woven within the fabric of Orlais. They are our people, yes. I don’t wish to fight them, but they would destroy what we have crafted over twenty years for a foolish ill-conceived attempt at rebellion that will take as many elven lives as they claim to save. What we have is not perfect, but it’s ours. And I’ll defend what we have to the death.”

All four elves nodded at her words with solemn gratitude. Briala saw no hesitation, no twitch of an eye or biting of lips. They were loyal. So far. But being betrayed had burned her too much and she could not help but feel that she was missing something. Not a key or a code. Fabrication or not, the mystery of the freckled elven man still cast a shadow of doubt. 

“There’s no doubt here if you’re looking for it, Marquise,” Crimson said with a smile. “We’ll do what needs to be done. We know you will too.”

————————

The tavern was bustling, near bursting at the seams with the sound of drunken merriment. The type of desperate merriment when you have little to lose, and you lose, and you lose more. So you take what you can, and don’t dare hope for more. This was enough, for now. But Alienage streets still simmered with resentment across Orlais. The undercurrent still sullied the mood of the revelers just enough where they could be dangerous.

Katrina sat at the back of the tavern, tracing the rim of her mug of water. A young elven man with greasy blonde hair in pauper’s clothes approached and slipped her a coin, one that marked him as ally, and leader, of the Val Royeaux cell. All of Solas’s agents worked independently, but all knew Katrina. His lieutenant. His closest confidant (or as close of a confidant as Fen’harel kept). Her will was his. Her position, unassailable. Her dedication, unwavering. 

And all of his agents stood in awe before her.

The young man bowed deeply, almost touching his own feet. “Lieutenant, it is a great honor…”

“I don’t ask for honor,” Katrina chastised him. “And you shouldn’t grovel at my feet. You are elven. Have some pride.”

The young man straightened up and cracked his knuckles, “You’re right, of course, my apologies, Lady Katrina,” he said with a raspy Orlesian accent as he took a seat.

“Have you heard the news from Emprise du Leon and Halamshiral?”

“Just minutes ago,” he said, his croaky voice barely managing more than a whisper, “Claudette said there’s not a trace of them left. From any of them. Not even bodies. If that’s true then -”

Katrina stopped him, “They’re dead, Jacques. Briala found them out.”

“Briala…” his voice cracked with disgust. “She plays at revolution, but kills more elves than humans.”

“I remember,” Katrina said. She had told the Inquisition long ago. She warned them that the elf who fancied herself Ambassador was no more than Celene’s pet, barely above a bed warmer. In her eyes, Briala was just a high class courtesan. She would jump into the arms of anyone who could give her the power she grasped for.

“If she knows about them,” Jacques whispered, fidgeting in his seat, “then she knows about the rest of us. She can bring us all down. She -”

“Jacques, just change your codes and watch your backs,” she told him, exasperated, “this is just a minor setback. Nothing more, nothing less. They run around dousing small fires but don’t see the blazing inferno on the horizon. Our leader plays a longer game, beyond their understanding and even beyond ours. You must trust him as he trusts us.”

“Of course, of course, of course,” Jacques said, nodding as he spoke, more so as a prayer than a true affirmation. 

“Besides,” Katrina said with an icy smile. “Briala may have power and wealth. But we,” she gestured to the patrons in the crowded tavern. “We have the People.”

Katrina rose from the table and slipped her way through the throng of patrons towards the counter, hoisting herself on top of the counter-top despite the tavern keep’s feeble protest.

“Everyone listen up!” she yelled over the din of drunken patrons, “I want to make a toast to all of us!”

The patrons settled down for just a moment, just long enough to entertain whatever drunken rabble they expected. 

“For decades, centuries, millenia, we’ve been pushed around, right?” she started, “We’ve been beat down and told we’re less than nothing. We get treated like dirt, like dregs, by humans! All the damn time!”

The racket began to give way to confused murmuring. A heckler yelled at her to get to the fucking point already.

“But you know what? Humans don’t treat us like that because they hate us. They do it because they’re jealous of us. They do it because they are frightened by us!”

She continued, fire in her chest and her voice in a frenzy. 

“We conquered Thedas before they arrived! We rose with Shartan and Andraste and brought the Tevinter Imperium to its knees! Our people have defeated Blights! Our people healed the Breach!” 

The confused murmuring gave way to a chorus of righteous pride. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of taking shit! I’m tired of being treated like nothing! No, less than nothing! We are more than the humans could ever dream! And one day, we’re gonna show them!”

The righteous pride gave way to raucous cheering. Katrina raised a closed fist and the rest followed suit, a drunken crescendo singing a single verse.

The elvhen will rise again!

————————

“And here is the hero of our hour, Marquise Briala!” Duke Alfonse Blanchard called out as Briala walked through the stained glass doors of his summer chateau and rushed to greet her, taking her hand and leading her inside, her two agents following behind and giving each other an almost-amused look. “I could not have had a more stalwart ally in these troubled times. And your timing is most impeccable.“

He greeted her in a yellow plaidweave waistcoat with tails that almost touched the floor, burgundy heeled boots, and black breeches with a burgundy stripe down the sides, a style, Briala noted, two seasons out of fashion. She maintained her sweet smile despite her horror. With any other person, these crimes of fashion would be nigh unforgivable but he was so charming, so adept at the Grand Game, that one could almost forgive his gaudy tastes. Without his charm, he would have lost his lands and his head like both of his brothers, who were found to be conspiring with the Venatori twenty years prior. 

As the four made their way inside to the large marble-tiled and gilded-golden foyer, a group of lesser nobles crowded around them from a balcony that overlooked the foyer. He did make sure to address Briala, of course, but spoke mainly for the crowd.

“I have long supported the free reign of the Dales and through my connections, we have built a partnership built on equity and mutual trust. It is a triumph for us and for Orlais. May our partnership show a new path forward to all who would witness it. And may we celebrate with a toast!” 

He raised his crystal glass and drank deeply. The attendees clapped and drank as well as he finished his soliloquy. Briala noticed his northern partners did not clap as enthusiastically and took smaller sips of their toasts versus his smaller, southern supporters. 

Her coalition was holding fast, she noted, but it was still too small. The southern duchys noticed the sea change among the Council of Heralds. They knew as long as the Chantry stood behind their Herald of Andraste, the Herald stood behind Briala, and as long as Celene did not move against any of them that their ascension was assured. 

The northern neighbors were not pleased. As Briala was falling out of favor with Celene, her center of power around Val Royeaux and the North was growing increasingly hostile. They were her most ardent supporters in the Civil War. Besides outliers like Ghislain, she had almost no Northern support. 

If Celene was trying to undermine the Chantry, that could make some Northern allies rush to her side, since the Grand Enchanter had made sure the Council of Heralds was stacked with those most loyal to her. The Southern partners would then jump at the chance to undermine Celene further and expand their own influence. In that way, Celene was stuck, unable to act against Briala more forcefully. But as Natalie and her ilk sought to undermine the Chantry from within, then Celene’s power would grow. 

Enough to rid herself of the meddlesome marquise.

Briala milled around and mingled with the guests for a while, examining each gesture and every syllable spoken, building her list of allies and adversaries, those who she could count on and those she could not. Nobles might bend their knees as she greeted them, but every act was a performance on the world’s greatest stage. Her two agents followed, close enough to protect but far enough away to blend into the scenery, to note what she might miss. On this stage, elves were relegated to minor characters, but her agents, along with many other elves, used their invisibility to their advantage. 

Even allyship, now matter how publicly declared, was always conditional among the nobility. Like rats on a sinking ship, her allies would scatter at the first sign of trouble. Even Duke Blanchard’s words, no matter how grand, were empty platitudes even if he did feel personal gratitude.

The only true ally she had ever had, who gave her everything and expected nothing, was ‘Manehn.

“I hope you like hot weather,” the Duke said, beaming as he approached, “The Lady Montilyet has invited all her trading partners to a soiree. The Marquise de Serault, the Duke de Ghislain and several others will be there. I’ll make sure you have an invitation.” 

“I’m honored.” Briala said, just loud enough for her words to echo, “I did have an engagement with the Comtesse Cosette of Lydes, but I can postpone that for another date.”

She did not have an engagement with Comtesse Cosette of Lydes. This was a public, retaliatory snubbing, payback for her trying to entrap Briala into an inequitable trade deal six months before and for trying to poison her two fêtes ago. As Briala rose, her status would now fall. The two agents noted the Comtesse’s dismay and slightly smiled at her distress. Lydes might start to submit now, if only to save face. 

“And do bring the Herald, of course, would you?” the Duke added after a long pause to witness this spectacle. “She just insisted that the Herald come. And it would be quite splendid to have the Savior of Orlais in attendance, don’t you think?”

Briala nodded with a placid smile. “I do.”

————————

Under cover of a moonless night, ‘Manehn and Davhalla arrived back at the Cathedral, saddle-sore from four days of hard riding. They had traded 20 sovereigns for two riding horses in the nearest trade town outside the Brecilian Forest, and had nearly gotten themselves arrested because the local townspeople could not fathom two Dalish elves that could rub two coppers together, much less two Dalish elves with more money than most there saw in a month.

One of Briala’s people, a courier, met them at the gates with a missive and a somber glance.

“News from Kirkwall,” he said as he pressed the letter into ‘Manehn’s hand. She stared at him for several seconds, shaking the note at him, until he realized his error, took the missive back and broke the seal with both of his hands. 

“A riot,” he grimly read from the page, “in the Alienage. Troublemakers set fire. Lots dead, mostly elves. Definitely Fen’harel’s doing.”

‘Manehn’s veins turned to ice and her jaw tightened.

“Your daughter is safe,” he added, seeing ‘Manehn freeze, “She’s with our people. She’ll be back in three days. Four if the currents don’t agree.” 

‘Manehn breathed an audible sigh of relief as the courier departed. 

“I shouldn’t have kept her alone,” she said, shaking her head and rubbing her temple. “I shouldn’t have even taken her to Kirkwall. I don’t even know what I was thinking, getting her involved in this.”

“She’s nineteen now, ‘Manehn. You can’t keep her sheltered forever,” Davhalla said to her. “She’s learning under guidance, structure and without her risking her life unnecessarily.”

“I’ve done nothing but just put her in danger. Repeatedly. What would’ve happened if she couldn’t banish that demon or if Solas’s people had - ”

“She is a Dreamer. She is the daughter of one of the most influential and powerful elves in Orlais,” Davhalla said grimly. “She is always in danger. She needs to be given the tools to defend herself. She needs to learn how to fight, especially given her eagerness to do so.”

“She shouldn’t have to.”

“None of us should have to, but we do anyway, don’t we?” Davhalla said with a yawn and a stretch of her arms as she walked away towards the Apartments.

‘Manehn retired to her room, eager to sleep but equally eager to soothe her rattled nerves. She found two servants and had them draw a hot bath while she undid the straps down her arm and across her chest that latched her dagger to her stump and set it on her desk. As the servants heated the water, she lit a candle, grabbed a magnifying glass, and scanned every inch of her blade. The pins that kept it sheathed were wearing, she noted, and the blade was blunting. She would have Dagna take a look at it. 

Later. 

She would take care of everything later.

She was too tired for racing thoughts and insomnia tonight. Too tired to take the honey wine that she usually needed to put herself to sleep. If only she could pause time, she thought, then maybe she could know peace. Had it really been so long that a spectre did not shadow her? Whether it was the fate of her clan, her people, or all of Thedas, she did not remember a time where she did not carry a burden. Carrying that burden had weathered her as much, if not more, than the mere passage of time. 

She sent the servants away, slipped off her clothes and sunk the bath, savoring the slight sizzle on her skin from the hot water as the filth washed away. She slid further into the tub, propped up her feet and leaned her head slightly back  until her hair touched the water. If she slipped further down, she thought, if she submerged herself completely, could she stay there? Could she surrender what glimmer of life remained within her?

She pulled herself back up and shuddered as the cool air hit her skin. She would not succumb. 

She pulled herself out of her bath, grabbed a towel and headed to bed. She hoped that for this night, she would sleep well.

#briala #oc lavellan #dragon age fic #da fic #dragon age fanfic #fic by brialavellan

[horansqueen]

AM Conversations : chapter 35

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.1k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- if you want to be notified when this is updated, please message me or leave a comment!

- you can send me questions and theories and comments. tbh they all make me SO SO SO SOOOO HAPPY! and make me want to write more! you can also tell me if there are things you WANT to happen. you never know, i may add it :P

- note for this chapter: i feel like not many things happened and i’m sorry. i promise more will happen asap. more smut too. there will be some in the next chapter and some also in chapter 38 or something. more things will happen and at some point i’ll skip a few weeks too. i just want to show that theyre getting closer and closer with time. i really hope this chapter isnt a disappointment. here are the ‘requests’ i added btw. (i know theyre not exactly what was asked but hey, i tried lol)

Chapter 35 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

We were all talking and laughing as gifts were exchanged but most of the time, my eyes would go back to look at Niall, sitting on the couch, legs spread, in his black pants, dress shirt and tie. I felt so happy to be with him at this exact moment in this specific place and surprisingly, he seemed just as happy as i was. It was hard to believe and if someone had told me that I would be dating Niall by now, I would have laughed, but it was true, it was now my reality, and I never thought my reality could be my dream coming true.

He caught me looking at him and raised his eyebrows with a smirk. I smiled more, feeling slightly embarrassed, and looked down before looking back up in his eyes. I never wanted this to end. I jumped slightly when Theo sat on my lap and chuckled a bit, wrapping my arms around him and kissing the top of his head. I've always loved kids and this tiny version of the Horan brothers was bringing inside me a sensation of intense love.

"Show me what Santa got you." I just said before he proceeded to hand me all the gifts he had received quickly.

I slipped my hand in his hair gently and sent him a smile before he got off of me to run to my boyfriend. I breathed in, feeling uncomfortable in these clothes and wishing I could just put sweatpants on, and finally got up to get in the kitchen.

"Can I help you with anything?" I proposed as Maura turned to look at me, her lips curling immediately when our eyes met.

"No, no darling," she shook her head with a chuckle. "I just needed more wine."

I laughed and nodded as she poured an other glass and handed it to me. I let out a short sigh, a smile still on my lips, and took it from her hands before taking a sip.

"You didn't have to be nervous." she finally let out as I leaned my side on the counter next to me. "We're all very happy that you two are finally together."

"Except Bobby." I joked with a laugh. "He lost his bet."

Maura laughed again and shook her head.

"No, he just hoped it would have taken a bit more time."

I frowned, not really understanding what she meant, and tilted my head.

"Oh we both knew you'd end up together." she explained, raising her eyebrows. "I guessed it would be this year, after tour. Bobby said it would be late next year, that it would take Niall more time to admit to his feelings. I guess he underestimated his son."

I let out a surprised chuckle and my lips parted as my shoulders fell. It was incredible and such a relief to realize that my beliefs were shared, that I was not the only one who thought all these years that Niall and I were meant to be.

"Tell me he did something big to ask you."

This time, I laughed, pushing away the bet Niall's parents had made to bring me back to the day where Niall sang that song to me in a bar in front of all of our friends and a bunch of strangers.

"I told him first, and then a few days later yea, he did something big." I admitted with a nod.

"You told him your feelings first?" she expressed, raising her eyebrows and laughing. "That's why I won."

I closed my eyes and laughed too, taking an other sip of wine. It made me wonder how long it would have taken us to get into a relationship if I hadn't told him how I felt... What if I had told him before? Would we be together?

"It was that obvious, wasn't it?"

I didn't have to say anything else, she knew exactly what I was talking about, and she raised her nose slightly before nodding.

"Why didn't he see it?" I added in a low tone, mostly asking myself. I frowned and looked down until I heard Maura talk again.

"He was stuck in his routine and what he was always used to do." she just pointed out. "You were his best friend, that was his certitude, why should he change that, you know? Why should he think about you any other way? By telling him how you felt you forced him to consider you as more than his best friend. Clearly he felt the same and it was obvious since you said it only took him a few days."

I nodded very slowly and looked down at the glass in my hand.

"I should have told him before." I confessed in a whisper. "We lost so much time."

I felt her take a step closer to me but didn't dare looking up. I just breathed deeply in and sighed a bit too loud.

"Maybe he was not ready before."

I held my breath and looked up at her. The look she was sending me was a mix of compassion, happiness and amusement and it hit me how similar she and Niall were, both physically and mentally. I thought about all we went through, all the memories we had, recent or old, and how much every single one of them meant the world to me. I thought about how much i've hurt, how hard some days were, how many tears I cried... I would do it all over again if it was to end up with that same result. I wouldn't change anything from our story, and I knew we were exactly where we were supposed to be, at the right time.

"Maybe I was not ready either." I admitted, licking my lips. "But I am now."

                                                     ---

The door closed behind a tired Bobby and when Maura turned back to us, she raised her eyebrows. Her eyes moved from her son to me and then back to him and she sighed with a smile, bringing Niall closer into a hug before kissing his cheek.

"I guess you won't need that second mattress, right?"

I felt my heart jump in my chest out of embarrassment but Niall only chuckled.

"Nop, but thanks mom."

"Alright, well i'm tired, Chris and I are going to bed." she said after yawning. "Goodnight, and don't stay up too late, okay?"

I laughed when she raised her eyebrows and we finally got upstairs in silence. I yawned too as we walked to my boyfriend's old room but he stopped abruptly right in front of his door. I almost bumped into him and he turned around, looking down at me with a smile.

"Wait, you forgot something."

I frowned but as I was about to ask what he meant, he pointed up and I looked over our heads only to see mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. I shook my head with a chuckle, staring at it for a few seconds before looking back at him. This time, he was smirking, and I tilted my head.

"Did you set this up?"

"No, it got there magically." he let out jokingly before laughing. "Of course I set this up."

"You know you don't need mistletoe to kiss me, right?" I teased too, laughing a bit.

"Just to be sure," he started, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer. "I thought about putting some all around my house."

"Oh i'd love to see that." I laughed again but this time it was cut short when he pressed his lips on mine firmly.

He deepened the kiss and It took me all my strength not to whimper in his mouth. His lips traveled down my neck and it made me smile. I wanted him so bad I felt my whole body on fire but I didn't want to do this here, in his mom's house, especially not for our first time.

"Let's get in your room, okay?" I proposed in a low tone. "I'd kill for a pair of sweatpants."

He laughed against the skin of my neck but finally nodded and I followed him in his room, closing the door behind us. I searched through my stuff to find a t-shirt and sweatpants but when I got back up, I felt Niall's hands on my waist from behind and his lips were back on my neck, making goosebumps appear on my skin.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but you look very nice in that dress." he whispered. I felt his teeth nibbling my neck gently and I bit my bottom lip hard. "Kind of like that time you wore a skirt on that double date?"

The thought made my heart skip a beat and all I could remember from that day was how his fingers kept drawing circles on my knee and that he had asked Harry to switch place with me so we could be sitting next to each other.

"Niall, we're at your mom's." I pointed out in a whisper, closing my eyes and hoping my words would convince him because I had a hard time to convince myself. "She could hear."

"I know petal, but you turn me on so bad." To prove his point, he pushed his hips closer and I felt his hard cock press against my ass, making me hold my breath.

I wanted him too, so bad that it almost hurt, but I still took a step further, turning around as he groaned and grimaced. I smiled more when he opened his eyes and sighed but his eyes roamed on me for a while before he just gave up.

"I'll put my sweatpants on." I proposed with a smile. "That way you won't be turned on because of that dress."

He laughed and shook his head before sitting on the bed.

"Because you think you don't turn me on in your sweatpants?"

I stared at him for a few seconds, feeling a wave of love invading me suddenly. Thinking that I turned him on was surreal but I realized his feelings for me were real with his last words. He lusted me when I was all dressed up, but he also lusted me when I was in sweatpants and a baggy shirt and for some reason, that made me feel more beautiful than I ever felt in my whole life.

"Come on, turn around while I get undressed."

"Of course." he laughed, putting his hand over his eyes before spreading his fingers to peek.

"Pervert." I let out with a smile.

"Hey, nothing I haven't seen in the shower this morning darling."

That thought made my heart jump in my chest but I just rolled my eyes and turned around, taking my dress off and letting it fall on the floor. I grabbed the t-shirt and put it on before taking off my panties and putting my sweatpants on. I finally turned around only to see him staring at him with a smirk, his head slightly tilted.

"You forgot the bra." he pointed out. "Looks like you're gonna have to take that shirt off again to show me what's under it."

"Don't be silly." I frowned with a smile, reaching my back with both hands to unclasp my bra before taking the straps down and pulling on it.

He grimaced when I let my bra fall on the floor with the rest of my clothes and it made me laugh again. I walked to him slowly, putting one of my knees next to his thigh on the bed before straddling him completely, sitting on his lap. I could feel his eyes search for mine but I simply bit my bottom lip and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Let me help you." I just murmured, knowing way too well that I was torturing both of us and that it would be tough to stop ourselves again.

I undid his tie when I was done and pushed the shirt off his shoulders before taking the tie off and dropping it on the floor. I felt a shiver cross my back as my hands ran on his skin and it made him chuckle.

"Look who's all over the other now." he pointed out, making me look up in his eyes.

My lips curled and I ran my tongue on the bottom one as my eyes roamed on his face. He was right, I wanted him as much as he wanted me... probably even more, but I was still scared.

"Can I ask you something serious and get a serious answer?" I asked after my eyes fell down on my hands still placed on his chest.

One of his hands reached mine and squeezed my fingers, making me look back up in his eyes. He was pretty, so pretty i felt my heart twist in my chest at how lucky I was.

"You can ask me anything." he let out in a whisper, making my eyes soften a bit.

"Let's say we have sex." I started, licking my lips and curling his into a smirk.

"Let's say we do." he repeated with a hint of amusement.

"What tells me that you won't..." I shrugged and looked down again. "I don't know.. leave me after?"

"Why would I do that?" he asked.

I could hear the confusion and the hurt in the tone of his voice and I breathed in before staring up in his eyes again. I felt stupid for even asking but I just had to. I needed more reassurance than I thought I would and even if I hated it, I couldn't help it.

"Because you didn't like it, or because you realized all this was just lust, something like that?"

Silence fell between us and all I could hear was the beating of my heart accelerating. We remained quiet for about a minute and he finally talked, making my heart jump in my chest again.

"What you said earlier at the park... that you can't remember ever not loving me.. that you loved me through all those memories, through all these years..." he stopped and sighed. "Liv, you're my best friend. You think i'd do something like that to you? We both risked out friendship because we both know that this... what we have... it's real and deep and it's worth it. I thought I only lusted you but it was just because... I didn't want to admit to myself how deeply in love with you I am."

My eyes opened wider at his confession and he squeezed my hands again. I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to keep my tears in, but I knew I was tearing up and that he could see it.

"Something clicked after the tour. Something was different. It took me a while to realize it and a while to accept it too." he shrugged a shoulder still staring at me. "But you make me happy, you make me feel something I never felt before, and this is real."

Slowly, I brought one of my hands to his jaw and ran my thumb on his bottom lip. We were just two stupid kids back then and I was just a loser in love with her best friend. Now was different, we were different and we were together.

"I loved you through everything." I whispered, not out of shame but because I was scared my voice would crack. "I fell asleep thinking of you and woke up with you on my mind. Sometimes I felt like I was going insane and that I would never get over you. I ruined relationships on purpose, I was jealous, pathetic and sometimes a bad friend. I would have done anything Niall. Any fucking thing. Does that scare you?"

He shook his head lightly, still looking in my eyes.

"I'm so sorry I've hurt you." he let out just as low. "I didn't know you loved me like that, I didn't know you kept all those feelings inside, behind that wall. I love you too. I promise to repeat it often enough to ease all the pain you felt through the years."

I felt a tear run down my cheek and he quickly let go of my hand to wipe it.

"So to answer your question, no." he added, licking his lips. "No, I won't leave you. No it's not just lust. No, you don't have to be scared, or self-conscious, or jealous. If I could make you feel all the love I have for you I would, and I promise you'd never doubt it again."

I got closer and pressed my lips against his. He answered the kiss, quickly deepening it but still going slow as his arms wrapped around me. He turned us around and my back fell on the mattress as he crawled on top of me, his lips still pressed on mine. I could feel my whole body throb at the intense moment we were living and all I could think about was that he was in love with me. I was not imagining it, he had used these words and I was ecstatic. I pulled him closer and whimpered low when his hips ground against mine, setting my whole body on fire.

"Not here." I whispered, pulling away slightly but with difficulty.

"Not here." he repeated, panting lightly against my mouth.

We both smiled and he peeled his body off of mine and lied down next to me on his back, chuckling low.

"Give me a few minutes to cool down will you?" he added, laughing again as I closed my eyes, searching for his hand on the bed.

We stopped talking for a long time and I finally decided to get up to turn the lights off before getting back in bed with him. He had taken his pants down and was now laying next to me, under the covers, in only his boxers.

"Do you want kids?" I let out a bit randomly as a bunch of thoughts run in my mind.

"You know I do." he expressed, turning his head my way before I did the same.

"No I mean, do you want kids with me?"

The right corner of his lips moved up and he raised his eyebrows a bit.

"Not now." he admitted, turning his body and bringing his arm around my waist to pull me closer. "But later, yea. Plus, I love seeing you with Theo, i'm sure he'll grow up to adore you. Not as much as I do but still."

I laughed and rolled my eyes but the truth was, I liked his answers. He made me feel good with every single words he said and he didn't even try. He was just being Niall and it made all of it even better.

"Maybe we can practice when we get back home?"

His eyes studied me for a while, a smile still drawn on his lips and he just licked them, holding me tighter against him.

"Only if you feel ready."

The way he cared about me made something stir in my stomach and I smiled back.

"I am."

                                                           ----

This time, the airport was crowded and I cursed at myself mentally for not bringing a pair of sunglasses. I did everything I could to hide myself a bit behind Niall but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer the way he always did. I knew he did it to keep me close to him and to make sure we wouldn't lose sight of each other but it made me extremely nervous. I tried to ignore the flashes from the camera and the paparazzis yelling at Niall to look his way but it was not easy. I groaned low as security tried to help us reach the gate but I let out a louder than intended 'ow!' when someone literally pulled my hair. I took a mental note to tie it from now on and maybe even hide it in my hoodie but I felt Niall grab my hand and intertwine our fingers. It suddenly made me feel better and it's only when we sat down in the plane that I felt stress cool down a bit. Our palms were sweating against the other's but I didn't want to let go of his hand and I held it even tighter.

"Did someone hurt you back there?" he asked, genuinely concerned and a bit pissed.

I grimaced and shrugged, leaning against my seat and closing my eyes.

"Yea someone just pulled my hair. Hard." I admitted with an other groan. "I hate people."

"Wait, someone fucking pulled your hair?"

He had moved closer to me and I shrugged again, trying not to make a big deal out of it. I felt a bit stupid and I was not sure why but I didn't want to show it.

"A fan or a pap?"

"I don't know."

He let go of my hand quickly and grabbed his phone, typing something quickly and a bit roughly on his phone, making me frown. It's only when I got a notification that I understood he had tweeted something about it.

'I'll say this once and hope it gets through everyone's head. dont. hurt. my. girlfriend.'

I felt my heart melt and a ridiculous smile appeared on my lips. It was the very first time Niall was calling me his girlfriend on social medias and I liked it, I liked it more than I probably should. I couldn't pretend I was not happy that my own profile was private though. I didn't even want to imagine all the hate I would be getting if it was public.

"Is it okay?" he asked, making me look up in his eyes and smile. "I can delete it if you want."

"Delete the first time you call me your girlfriend officially online? No way!"

We both laughed and I leaned my head on his shoulder, grabbing his hand on mine again. He brought them on his thigh and I stared at our fingers as his thumb brushed gently against the top of my hand.

"That's not too much PDA?" I asked low with a smirk.

"No." he whispered back. "Just enough."

I laughed again, feeling relaxed and safer now, and he placed his head on top of mine. I couldn't wait to be back home but at the same time, I felt home anyway and I realized it was because my home was literally sitting right next to me. It was dangerous to give someone so much power over you and your happiness but I couldn't help it. With Niall, every moment, every smell, every feeling was better. I thought about the few days we spent at his mom’s and how everyone had been so nice to me and so happy for us. I thought about the fact that I literally told him we'd have sex as soon as we'd get back home and it made me febrile. I was excited, nervous but mostly incredibly happy. I couldn't wait to be myself again when it came to sex. I was not the type to be shy and I loved trying new things but with Niall, all I could think about was how he was seeing me and what he was thinking. It was adding limits and boundaries to our relationship and I hated it.

"Are you part of the mile high club?" I suddenly asked.

He took his head away and I turned mine, raising my eyebrows at him. He looked at me amused again and he just chuckled, his eyes scanning me.

"Not yet, are you?"

"Don't be silly, of course I'm not." I rolled my eyes with a chuckle.

"I don't think our first time-"

"Not now, no!" I cut him quickly but quickly relaxed. "But, someday, maybe?" I proposed with a shrug.

"Oh definitely." he replied in a low tone with a hint of eagerness. "I want to try many things with you. Not just sexually. I want a bunch of firsts with you. And then I want us to do it again."

Without giving me time to answer, he pressed his lips on mine and I chuckled against his mouth. I felt my whole body quiver slightly at the thought of everything our future was holding and I realized it was shivers of impatience. I couldn't want to live my life with him.

"We will."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan story #niall horan writing #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #amc #my fanfics #i dont want to click on 'post' :X

[shadeofazmeinya]

Solar (11/?)

Chapter Summary: He left to protect them from shit like this. He has to save them now.

A/N: I’m so so sorry this chapter took so long. I don’t have a lot of good excuses tbh. But it’s here now! Next chapter after this will take a bit as well since I’m starting a new job, but it will be worked on when I can. As always, comments and reblogs are super appreciated!!!!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319107/chapters/49271171

It’s the creak of wood that pulls Ryan’s mind to the surface. It’s slow, drawn out. The apartment is an older one and the wood protested every step in it. Normally one wouldn’t think much of it, but Ryan’s a light sleeper and even the small squeaks make him stir. Then there’s a voice, hushed where he can’t make out what is said. But there’s no familiarity in the tone. Only a spiked heart rate and catching breath as Ryan’s eyes fly open.

They’ve found me.

It’s the first thought through Ryan’s head as he sits up and sees a blurred figure step towards the back of the apartment, the bedrooms. He can’t make out who or what it is, the person hidden under black clothing and a hood covering the head. But the frame is unfamiliar, footsteps awkward as they creak towards where his family lay resting.

They found us.

Ryan moves despite his side, the pain grinding his teeth as he bolts up. He reaches instinctively at his waist for a weapon, a knife or gun or something and cursing as he pads empty air. He shouldn’t have stored that shit away before he came here. He shouldn’t have let his guard down this much.

Ryan pulls himself off the couch, climbing to the floor and starts padding around the room. He keeps close to the furniture, not creating any more noise to alert the invaders. He aims for the kitchen, thinking of a knife or some sort of blunt object that could be used as a weapon. He hunches low, eyes staring at the figure that disappears into the hallway, blending into the darkness. He can hear the continued footsteps, moving with purpose further and further back.

Maybe he is overreacting, he thinks as he crouches by the counters, pulling open the drawer quietly, softly. He reaches up, wanting to rummage around for a knife. Maybe the person is one of the others grabbing water or a midnight snack. In his bleariness of waking, it may be possible he misheard. That the voice isn’t a worry. But his body continues, no stopping or hesitating. His heart beats in his ears and his throat is tight as he holds back his breathing.

Then, a hand flies out, fingernails digging into his wrist and yanking him back.

Ryan jolts, gasping and throwing out his arms. He pulls back, but the hand keeps a firm grip and Ryan looks into stern grey eyes, unfamiliar but unnerving and it makes Ryan freeze.

“Stop,” a voice whispers through grit teeth. “Don’t fight back. You’ll regret it.” Ryan merely snarls in response, because like hell he is going to listen.

He shoves the person off with a grunt, throwing his weight against them. He yanks his arm back in the same moment and is able to free it as the person stumbles and falls against the cabinets with a solid thud. Ryan forgets about his original plan for a knife, instead jumping towards the person, hands grabbing at their face. The person recoils, snarling but Ryan finds a hold and jumps into their mind.

He moves too fast in the mind to see anything but blurry images as he blindly searches for fear. There’s a sensation of helplessness, of pain, and Ryan holds on tight and yanks it to the surface. He sets it in faster than normal and it earns an ear piercing scream from the person as their whole world is filled with the vision Ryan grabbed.

Ryan hopes the commotion is enough to wake and warn the others, shoving the howling intruder aside as he races back down the hall in the direction where the other figure disappeared. Panic moves his limbs for him, fear racing his heart with thoughts of what could be happening to the others. What and how they could be hurting.

He left to protect them from shit like this. He has to save them now.

He bursts into the hall as he hears the sound of something crashing from the bedrooms. His feet slide against the hardwood as he suddenly turns, scrambling to shift his body weight to move to the bedroom door that hangs open. A yell is heard as he bursts into the darkness, broken only from a flickering glow and a scared face that is pushed to the corner behind Geoff. Jack’s grunt snaps his head to the side, seeing his arms raised and thrusting up. There’s a moan from the house, movement as the floor vibrates. Ryan sees vines, thick and slithering, climbing across the floor and up the wall. There’s a groan under them, as they entangle and constrict an assailant to the wall. This man is different from the one before, hiding under a black mask but cold, dark eyes glaring at them all as he fights. Jack snarls, arms shaking under the strain but his eyes are fierce, firm.

“Get out!” Jack commands to the other two, voice tight. Geoff bursts into action, grabbing Gavin and pulling him forward. The boy squeaks, wide eyes staring at the figure as he is dragged. Ryan shifts, stepping in to let them pass and help Jack.

The assailant snarls, fingertips digging at the plants that pin him. Then, there’s a sound, like glass creaking and shattering. As Ryan steps in to help, protectively moving in front of Jack, he watches in horror as the plants start to turn blue and their growth stunted. There are shards that stick out from the ends of the vines as a chill floods into the room. The vines start breaking off as ice travels down them. Realization dawns as the ice gets more intense, sparking from the person’s hands.

This person has an Ability. These people have Abilities.

Ryan grabs out to Jack, as more vines burst through the wood floor to pin the person. Splinters of wood litter the ground, holes deep and likely coming from the nursery of the flower shop. Jack’s safeguard of plants, now growing to monstrous sizes and strength. Jack is shaking, breath ragged from the effort, but lets Ryan drag him away, running from the room. They move to the void of darkness in the hallway and Ryan hears a deep growl as a familiar burst of fur bounds through the black towards the sounds of other grunts and fighting in the kitchen. Still having a knuckle-white grip on Jack’s arm, Ryan drags them to the others. They’ll be safer together, where they can outnumber the invaders. At least those are his thoughts through the chaos. As much as he can grasp.

It’s a fury of movement as they bound into the main room, Michael’s beast form snarls and bites at the person Ryan had left in fear. But the stranger is up again, yelling as they fight Michael off, barely ducking out of the way of lashing claws and teeth. Ryan watches, as the whole body seems to flicker during the fight. They are there one second, raising a startled arm under Michael’s neck to shove his maw away, then the body is gone the next second like it was never there.

Ryan shoves Jack in the corner, forcing him out of the way of the fight. Then Ryan bursts for a weapon again, throwing open the drawers for a knife. It might not do much, but being armed with anything is better than nothing. He digs through the drawer, not caring about noise now as snarls and yelps and grunts send every nerve on end. As he pulls out a blade, there’s a flash. The whole room brightens, but harsher than with Gavin’s light. Like a clash of lightning but then there’s a crackle that sounds with it. A buzz of electricity and Ryan looks up to hear a howl of pain, feral and animalistic.

Michael falls away, body ripping back to his human form. He sprawls to the ground with a horrific thud. The stranger’s body is back to being seen, something in their hands that continued to fizzle as they hold their arm. Blood is dripping onto the ground, slipping between their fingers.

Ryan sees red. Raising the knife, he charges forward.

“Ryan, don’t-“ Geoff’s voice comes through, but Ryan doesn’t pay it any attention, colliding with the figure.

The person turns towards him just as he reaches them and Ryan can see more details about them. Seeing long blonde hair pulled back and a snarl spread across the face with hatred in deep grey. The black outfit they have on is tactical, heavy armor with a blue logo patched on the shoulder. An unfortunately familiar logo.

These people might not be here for Ryan.

Ryan realizes this as the knife swings forward. His arm is stopped as their hand shoots out and collides with his wrist. It pins his arm in place, again with a strength that surprises him. Ryan snarls and kicks out, catching their side harshly. Pain radiates through his leg, doubled only by the pain from the older wound on his side. The kick makes them unsteady but their hand keeps on Ryan and they both topple over.

The sparking weapon they had skitters across the wood, out of their grasp as they crash. Ryan twists, trying to grab at their face again. But they’re prepared this time, twisting Ryan’s wrist harshly to point the knife in his hand towards him. The tip hovers near his throat, arm starting to shake in the strain of keeping it away. He flinches away, the knight catching the moonlight as it moves closer and closer to him. His side flares, straining against the stitching and Ryan cries out as it burns. The person growls in effort, grunting as they thrust the knife forward.

Ryan ducks at the last moment, the knife scratching the side of his neck as it plunges into the wooden floor. It sticks, the other grunting as they try to pull it out. Ryan takes the moment to thrust his hands back on them, grabbing either side of their face.

He throws himself deeper. Far too deep, far too fast, he can’t block out the images the flood as it rips the fear forward. Images of pain, screaming for it to stop. Restrained, fighting. And terror, unadulterated fear. Nearly stopping his heart, stealing his lungs. Not again. Please, not anymore, make it stop-

Then cold, stinging, pounding into his back. Ryan gasps as he’s ripped from the other person’s mind, their body slumping to the floor. A shout fills the room and as Ryan turns around, he sees Jeremy swinging and a body slamming against the wall. A trail of ice leads from Ryan to where the person had been standing, razor-like fragments sticking out of the trails.

“Don’t kill them!” Geoff cuts through the chaos, still pushing Gavin out. The boy cowers but glows, the light cutting harshly through the darkness around them.

“What the fuck else do we do, Geoff?” Michael’s angry voice cuts through, matching the hands on Ryan’s back, dragging him up.

“We run!” Jeremy supplies, feet racing through the room. The ice Ability is still laying on the ground, recovering. Vines grow, crawling through the ground and wrapping around the form that doesn’t move. Jack is grunting, sweat falling off his brow as his whole body shakes.

“Get to the car!” Geoff commands, throwing the front door open. “Jack, keep the fuck down a few more moments.”

“Where are you going?!” Michael howls as Ryan sees Geoff bolt back through the apartment, turning back to the darkness.

“Go,” Ryan grits to Michael, hand pressing to his own side as he stands back up. He feels some stickiness drip through his fingers and he doesn’t need to look to know its blood. “I’ll deal with this. You get everyone else safe.”

“Fuck you-“ Michael starts to scream, but Jeremy grabs him, pulling him away. Michael yelps as Jeremy grabs harder than he means, but reluctantly Michael goes where he pulls, shoving Gavin out with them.

From the ground, the Ice Ability stirs and snarls, weakly fighting the plants. But there are too many untangled now and his ice isn’t can’t seem to spread enough. He growls as his eyes level straight through the rest of them. Looking right at Gavin who pauses, staring in the doorway. “Stop running! You know you can’t be out! You have to come back!”

Ryan can see the glow behind him increase; Gavin’s light spilling on the floor, echoing in sputters through the room. Ryan doesn’t look back though as he strides forward and leans down with his non-bloody hand. He rests it on the pinned man, who flinches, twisting uselessly. Ryan’s body resists just trying to call for his power, exhaustion pulling at his bones but he pushes past it. Letting his Ability move through the contact. Ryan doesn’t need to set in a lot, careful not to shove in too deep. He can feel the intruder fall limp; trapped in whatever nightmare Ryan forced his now sleeping body to be in.

As the figure falls silent, Ryan pushes himself to stand back up, hissing through his teeth as his body aches. He takes an unsteady step only to feel comforting arms come up besides him, throwing his arm over a shoulder. “I got you,” Geoff says, leading the way.

Ryan can only grunt, head spinning as he shuffles along. He catches Jack stumbling out, hears Geoff commanding. Ryan couldn’t focus on any of it, the last rush of his Ability draining like the blood pooling between his fingers.

They make it to the car somehow, tires squealing as they pull out, racing through the blinking glass buildings. The streetlights flash in and out and in and out, stripes across their tense expressions, clinging hands to seats. The car is a cacophony of noise, shouting and worried voices, but Ryan can’t sort through any of it. The pain dulls the world and Ryan rests his head back on the seat, focusing on keeping pressure on his side.

A face peers at him, warmth radiating from it. Ryan cracks his eyes open to see the scared, worried face of Gavin. Lips pulled tight, lines of stress making him seem so much older and more ragged than from even when they first met. He hears Gavin murmuring, cutting through the sounds of their world flipping on its head.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

#solar #superpowers fahc #freewood #fake ah crew #fahc #sorry this took so long #hope you guys still enjoy!!! #posted a bit early i know #but i wanted to get it out

[whiskynottea]

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27,  Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35,  Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40, Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44,  Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47, Chapter 48, Chapter 49, Chapter 50, Chapter 51

AO3

A huge thank you to all of you for sticking with me! And, as always, thank you to my beta, @theministerskat!

Chapter 52. Michigan Writing

Sassenach: I juuuuuuuumped!

My hands were trembling. It took me more than one try to write the message without mistakes. My fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, sliding on the screen, adding a stray H and two stray Os before I could command them not to. The moment the message was sent, I calculated the time in Michigan. Six-thirty. Still too early, but the first thing I wanted to do once I had land under my feet again was to share that moment with Jamie. Now, when my heart was still trying to escape from my chest -- as if I could share the feeling with him through a simple text message.

Bungee jumping was amazing. Better than I thought it would be. Even now that I was standing still, I could still feel the adrenaline running through every tissue of my body. Waves were crashing against my skin, fighting for release, making me invincible.

All due to those scary, exhilarating sixty seconds when I felt I was challenging death. Trusting a rubber band to keep me alive and feeling my heart beating wildly, the blood rushing through my body, my voice leaving my mouth in shrill cries. The wind rippling through my hair.

Elation. Freedom.

I had to do it again, but next time with Jamie. I needed to see his smile splitting his face when the crew would pull him up. To see happiness reflecting in his eyes the moment they found mine.

Sassenach: We’re definitely doing this together, too.

Louise’s voice pulled me from my thoughts and I looked up from my phone. The crew was working fast to ready her, not leaving time for second thoughts. Louise, however, was looking at me with panicked eyes. “I’m not sure about this…” she murmured, a question hiding behind the words. Should I not do it? She was close to backing out just before the jump.

“It’s awesome Louise!” I encouraged her, unable to erase the grin that was still on my face, lingering there from my own jump. “You’ll love it!”

A few moments later she was screaming “Merde!”, but I could hear the laughter in her voice.

Looking around, I saw Robert chuckling silently, while Jeremy was standing close to the edge, excitement clearly written on his face. Margaret, on the other hand, had shrunk into herself, standing as far as she could from the crew, as if they would suddenly grab her and throw her off the bridge without so much as a question.

“C'est magnifique!” Louise’s laughter interrupted her words, her hand secured over her heart as she stood again amongst us. “Best thing I’ve done in a long while!” she added, ecstatic.

A weird sound came from Robert’s voice that made Jeremy laugh. We were all aware that Robert was one of the things Louise had done lately, but it was nothing more than one drunken night, so none of us had mentioned it.

“No matter how good you are, mate, I don’t think you can really compare to bungee jumping.” To the challenging glance shot at him by Robert, Jeremy added, “No offense, St. Germain.”

Another sound came from Robert, but he didn’t reply to Jeremy’s comment. Jeremy turned to the crew. “Okay, my turn!” he said. “I’m so excited!”

“Can’t tell,” Robert drawled, looking bored.

“Oh come on!” I said, disbelieving. “You can’t pretend to be calm about this! It’s not called an ‘extreme sport’ for nothing.”

“Oui!” Louise agreed with me, pulling her hair up into a sleek bun, still smiling. “This feels so good!”

“I know,” he said plainly.

“You do?” I asked, surprised.

“I’ve done this before,” he deadpanned.

“And?” I couldn't hide the smile from my voice. It was as if he had resigned to showing no emotions at all, and it was getting ridiculous.

“It’s great, okay?” he said, his face stony, but his eyes grew wide, as if he had surprised himself by admitting it.

I smiled triumphantly, but didn’t continue the conversation. Jeremy was almost ready, and he was looking at me with a wide smile, waiting to take his picture so he would post it on Instagram.

“Got it,” I winked at him and smiled, and his grin became wider, if that was even possible.

Thirty minutes later, we arrived back at the volunteer house. Robert had jumped from the bridge in the most nonchalant way, but even he couldn’t control the grin on his face when the crew pulled him back up. Margaret had decided that she didn’t want to try, even though we had repeatedly assured her that the jump was perfectly safe and felt amazing. Robert had walked with her back to her room while the rest of us had stayed behind, having an animated conversation about seeing the ground coming closer and closer, and wondering where the hell the rope was that would stop us.

Jamie hadn’t mentioned my letter in any of his texts or during our calls, and I, wanting it to be a surprise, didn’t inform him of my old-fashioned means of communication. So I could hardly believe in my eyes when Robert gave me the crisp white envelope with my name written on it in Jamie’s beautiful penmanship.

“Mr Darcy sends his regards,” he said with a slightly raised eyebrow, but I didn’t have time to spend on his mockery. That he, of all people, would be the one to read Pride and Prejudice and use references from the book to tease me. Or maybe he had watched the movie. Having Jamie’s letter in my hands, I didn’t really care either way.

I ran to my bed, lay prone propping myself up on my elbows, and tore the envelope open.

My Sassenach,

A letter? Really? John is now calling me Napoleon and it’s all your fault. He says Napoleon was sending steamy love letters to Josephine and he’s sure that’s what we’re doing as well. If I’m going to live through that, you have to increase the level of naughtiness in your letters, babe. We have to live up to John’s expectations (and that’s the only reason I’m asking this of you, as I’m sure you very well know).

“Yeah, sure, Jamie Fraser. The one and only reason,” I  murmured, grinning. “I wonder who you’re trying to persuade with this.” Shaking my head, I continued.

What you also need to know, is that Hector has left two fake letters on my desk this week -- one featuring hearts of all shapes, the other full of ridiculous declarations of love. And a bit of sex talk. Really bad sex talk, if I may say so. We should have never helped these two get together. They are insufferable, and I have to endure their silliness all by myself now that you’re gone, Sassenach.

COME BACK. SAVE YOUR LAD. I’M SUFFERING HERE.

“You’re a ridiculous human being,” I whispered, smiling, although my heart clenched a little reading his words. I knew he was joking, I knew it, but I also knew he did wish I was there. My eyes glanced back to his words.  

To be honest, I never expected to get a letter from you. It was a nice surprise, reading you, though. Maybe I’ve read the letter more than once. Maybe I read my favorite parts every night. Maybe.

The groan left my lips before I could control it. Why does this man have to be so sweet? All of a sudden, my arms felt extremely empty.

I never expected to tell you that I’m happy you’re there, Claire, but I am. I am happy because you are. Because I can see the way you smile in the pictures you send. Because I can even read this joy, squeezed into the tiny white spaces between the crammed words in your letter, flashing as if it were written with fluorescent colours.

I can’t really explain it, but it makes me happy and sad at the same time. It feels like an ache in my chest. I’m happy you’re doing what you love, but I want to be there, with you. I have this constant feeling that I’m missing something really important, something we were supposed to live together.

But then, if I followed you everywhere, maybe you’d get sick of me and ditch me the moment you got bored. I’m staying here to make myself unattainable, that’s what I’m doing.

Here is where you say, “I’d never get bored of you, you fool.” (I do hope you’ve said this. Or at least thought it.)

R-I-D-I-C-U-L-O-U-S. “I’ll never ever get bored of you, you fool,” I said, feeling that I owed him that much. It was the truth, after all. Jamie’s letter continued in a more serious tone.

I know we need to make some memories that are ours and ours alone, mo chridhe, but I don’t want to. I want to be there, to see wild Africa as you see it, the people, the landscapes… To see you healing others, getting ready to become one of the best doctors in the world. I want to be there, to smell you at night when you lie in my arms, to feel your skin soft and warm against my lips. To feel you getting wet, as I run my fingers across your body.

My heart thundered inside my chest. Living up to John’s expectations, my arse.

Anyway. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I miss you terribly.

“I miss you too, you oaf. Why do you have to make this so hard?” My whisper was soon lost, as Jeremy burst in, laughing at something Louise had said outside. I swallowed hard, trying to master my feelings.

Things here are pretty much as you left them, Sassenach. Classes are relatively easy and the winter term ends next Tuesday. Coach has started pushing us harder. Training is exhausting and I often have no stamina to do anything more than go to classes and to the pool. I’m getting better, though. My time underwater is so much longer now! I still need to improve my turns, and coach says my back doesn’t have quite the right arch when I jump at the start. In Edinburgh, my coach had said I had the perfect start -- it appears not.

I could almost see him rolling his eyes. My poor swimmer, straining for perfection.

Other than that, we usually gather over at Hector’s for beers twice a week, as you already know. You remember Jim from when you were here? The complete arsehole? He’s starting to open up now, and he’s really not that bad. Oh, and I just hung up with Jenny. She told me she’ll send you some pictures of Lallybroch, to entice you to return home. Lallybroch is beautiful in the spring, remember the pictures I sent you last Easter? I’ll send you some pictures of me, to make you come here. Fraser measures, we call them.

Jenny said she misses you a lot, but she’s proud of you. She said I’m a lucky bastard to have you -- I needed to remind her I am her family, and not you. I talked with Ian, too. He has started looking for apartments in Edinburgh, so Jenny and he will live alone come September. He wants to find a job too, so he can pay for it, but Jenny has no idea about his plans. He’ll get her on a trip to Edinburgh so they’ll decide together which one they like once he narrows down their choices to three or four apartments. I told him that he’s making the rest of us seem inadequate as boyfriends, but he merely chuckled. He is, though.

Don’t get any ideas in that pretty head of yours. Ian is only one, taken by Jenny, and I’m the best boyfriend you can ever get. Right? Right?

You’re the best I can ever get, that’s for sure.

Your team of volunteers seems nice. Tell Louise I said hi! And keep a safe distance from the guys, okay? (I’m kidding. Or not. Okay, I am, stop staring at that piece of paper as if you’re going to put it on fire.)

I don’t know when this letter will be delivered to you. I’ll make sure you get enough of me through texts till then. I can’t wait for the weekend, so I can see and hear you again.

I love you. And I miss you. And I want you. God, I want you.

Time will pass and I’ll have your obnoxious curls getting in my face again. I can’t wait.  

Your beloved Scot.

I pressed the letter against my chest, breathing long and deep. A letter from Jamie -- who would ever have imagined that happening. I grabbed my phone, checking the time. He should have woken up by now.

Sassenach: Where are you, my sleepy Scot?

Seeing that he wasn’t online, I tucked the letter between the pages of my book and went outside to sit with the others. Louise gave me a sweet smile, and nodded towards the only empty chair, between her and Margaret.

“Happy?” she asked in a low voice once I was seated.

“Yes,” I said, but it was more of a sigh and less of a word. “I miss him.”

“I know.” She pressed her lips together, and her glance traveled to her phone. Charlie was back in France and he hadn’t taken Louise’s decision well. He blamed her for leaving their perfect life to go on an adventure without him, and they had broken up a few days before she left for Zambia. But she still loved him.

At least Jamie understood.

When the rest went back in the house, Robert and I were left alone basking in the sun.

“So,” I said, leaning towards him. “Pride and Prejudice? You?” I asked in a low voice, making sure I raised my eyebrow in a challenging way.

Robert looked at me for the briefest moments, then averted his eyes. If I didn’t know he had been lying under the sun for the past thirty minutes, I would swear he had blushed. With his gaze fixed on a puffy white cloud, he shrugged.

“You would make a nice Mr. Darcy yourself, you know,” I said without really thinking about it. Or, more specifically, thinking about his money and arrogance.

His eyes found mine, and the openness I saw there surprised me. “It was my mother’s favourite book.” He ran a hand through his hair, fixing his gaze on the cloud again.

I froze at his use of past tense.

“I’m sorry, Robert.” I reached out tentatively and squeezed his hand, feeling his fingers pressing hard against the arm of his chair. “I know how it feels like.”

He looked at me again, wide eyes glazed with unshed tears. He nodded, gulped as if to swallow the words and feelings that overwhelmed him, and stood abruptly. A moment later he left the house.

My gaze was fixed on the road for a while after Robert disappeared at the turn, thinking how proud and prejudiced I had been in my assessment of him. Everyone carries their own baggage, some people hiding their limping better than others.

Chapter 53

#thermodynamics #the first law of thermodynamics #Jamie x Claire #high school AU #college AU #outlander fanfic #Outlander fanfiction

[megalony]

So many reasons- Part 11

Another part to my latest Roger Taylor series, thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback and comments it means a lot.

Thank you to @butlegendsneverdie for giving me the idea for this chapter and for your comments and encouragement with this story. x

Permanent taglist: @marshmallowmae  @langdonzvoid  @butlegendsneverdie  @jennyggggrrr  @luvborhap  @radiob-l-a-hblah  @rogertaylorsbitontheside  @chlobo6

Series taglist: @scarecrowmax  @caborhapch  @demo-wise  @asquiresofftime  @rogertaylors-lipgloss

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) didn't know what else she could do.

There were only so many excuses she could give to Lily before the questions she started asking were ones that (Y/n) couldn't bypass anymore or respond to without lying. There was nothing in the world that she could tell Rosie that the three-year-old would understand.

Lily had been told that Roger had gotten worse and was in the hospital because he was sick and she understood that. She didn't know what was wrong with Roger except he had a bad chest so the more she kept asking the fewer answers there was for (Y/n) to give. It was beginning to worry the six-year-old that Roger hadn't come home yet and that she hadn't been allowed to see him since he was too ill.

In Rosie's little head, Roger was not here and she didn't know where he had gone. Telling her Roger was ill only worked when he was actually there so the toddler could cuddle up next to him and try and help by giving him hugs like he did her when she was ill. Telling her he was away because he wasn't well didn't work because she didn't understand. All she knew was Roger hadn't been home in almost five days and each day she would toddle around the house, looking in every room to see where her dad had gone.

It broke (Y/n)'s heart to find Rosie wandering around the house with tears in her eyes as she cried out for Roger but couldn't seem to find him. The worst was when the little girl sat in (Y/n) and Roger's bedroom looking around as she refused to leave. Somehow thinking Roger was hiding somewhere in the room and would come out at any moment to surprise her.

Seeing her like this made stones fall into the pit of (Y/n)'s stomach because if Rosie was this distressed when Roger was alive but in the hospital, what would have happened if he had died on that operating table?

What would (Y/n) have done if Roger had died like he was so afraid he would? Rosie was far too young to understand the concept of death, (Y/n) would walk around the house to find the little girl calling out for Roger every day whilst everyone else knew he was never going to walk through the door again. Rosie would be calling out for Roger every day and he wouldn't be able to come back and see her and soothe her little worried mind. The thought sent shivers up her spine as she silently prayed for Roger's recovery to be a good one. For him not to need any more treatment or for any future treatment to do its job once and for all. The drummer couldn't die, he needed to be here for his girls because his girls needed him.

Today had been the last straw.

"Shoes and coat on now, please. We're going out." (Y/n) stated, motioning her hand to the hallway where coats and jackets were hung up and shoes were neatly placed in the shoebox. Her eyes told Lily to just go along with her on this as she cradled a wailing Rosie to her shoulder. The three-year-old still not able to find Roger, she seemed to think he was playing a very hard game of hide and seek with her.

Going to the hall, (Y/n) slipped on her flats before sitting down on the stairs so she could put Rosie's dusty rose shoes on her feet and settle her matching jacket around her frame to keep out the biting cold. Her teeth bit down on her bottom lip so harshly she drew blood when she managed to put her jacket on only for Rosie to cry out at seeing Roger's many jackets and coats still hung up on his designated hooks. Her small grabby hands reaching out for one of her favourites which happened to be a dark green pullover jacket that Roger had a tendency to wear more than the rest.

Reaching out (Y/n) slipped the jacket from the hook, passing it to the toddler who clung to it like glue. Her wails turning to whimpers as she buried her face in the jacket, leaning the side of her head against (Y/n)'s shoulder as she grabbed her house and car keys.

"Mummy, where are we going?" 

If the circumstances were any different, (Y/n) would have noticed how her heart picked up a little pace in its usually steady pace at the title Lily was beginning to call her now. But (Y/n) couldn't focus on that right now, she was trying to decide if what she was going to do would really be a good option for them.

"To see daddy." Lily was getting restless and worried with Roger not being at home, she was used to him going on tours quite often and working through the days until all hours but he was always at home at some point during the day. Whether it be in the dead of night or as early as the sun rising, Roger was home unless on tour and he would always be somewhere for the girls to find him. Now he wasn't it was concerning because Lily couldn't ring him like she normally could when he was on tour.

Rosie of course was distressed, not finding him anywhere after seeing him in the morning five days ago and then nothing. Roger hadn't been on tour for a while and in that time Rosie had grown up a little when on tour she didn't really understand or sometimes it didn't click that Roger had gone. Now she knew he wasn't here but she could find all of his things in the hallway, in the living room and all of his clothes were still in his room. So she obviously thought he was home somewhere but couldn't find him.

(Y/n) wondered if she could show Rosie a glimpse of Roger she would be satisfied that he was there because she didn't want to take the toddler into Roger's room at the moment. Lily was a little older, she could understand more that Roger was ill and (Y/n) thought she might be able to handle seeing Roger like he was. The drummer had IV and medication drips hooked into the veins in his hands and arms, he had monitoring stickers to his chest to check his vitals and a clip on his finger for his heartbeat. But the more concerning thing was the very pale baby blue tube going down his throat to keep his lungs in working order since they were taking a break right now.

Rosie wouldn't be able to understand that and it could distress her but Lily might just be able to handle that, if she couldn't then they would all leave. At least if they got a glimpse of Roger they would know he was being cared for and was alright for now.

The drive down to the hospital seemed to do some good for Rosie as she had settled down immensely. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Roger's jacket, clearly not letting that go anywhere at all. She had pulled the collar of the jacket between her lips as she breathed in Roger's scent, drooling on the jacket that she wouldn't let go of when (Y/n) picked her up as they arrived. No more tears were leaving her sore eyes as she seemed to be rather tired, her arm hooking around (Y/n)'s neck as they started walking into the hospital. Lily's hand tightly holding onto (Y/n)'s as she pressed herself to her mother's leg, her eyes wide as she was guided through the hospital to reach Roger's room.

(Y/n) stopped a few feet from Roger's room so she could bend down to be Lily's height, needing to talk to her before they went inside.

"Alright sweetheart, your dad won't be awake. He's on medicine that makes him sleep so he can get better but he will be able to hear you if you want to talk to him. The wires may look scary but I promise it's only to help him." Lily nodded, her lips curving into a very small, barely noticeable smile when (Y/n) kissed her forehead before standing to her feet again.

Her hand reached out to take Lily's, her other arm bouncing Rosie in her hip who had taken to stroking Roger's jacket like it was a pet. Lily wrapped an arm around (Y/n)'s leg when she let go of her hand to push open the door. Her heart beating out of her chest as she pressed her hand to Lily's back, encouraging her to walk into the room. (Y/n) thought Lily would have hung back, observed Roger from a distance for a little while to see what was wrong and what was attached to him. Instead, the blonde simply walked straight up to Roger's side, glancing to her mother before hopping up so she could sit on the side of the bed with him.

"Mummy...?" There was worry in Lily's voice as she pointed to Roger's hand, desperate to reach out and hug him but that looked to be too difficult so she wanted to hold his hand instead. Roger still wasn't wearing a shirt, but there was a rather large plaster placed over his chest with bandages wrapping around it. It was easier not to place a gown over him or a shirt because this way the nurses could clean his stitches and apply new dressings easier since he was comatose for the time being. There were a few wires connecting to his chest that slithered under the bandages.

An IV drip was connected to the vein on his left hand and another drip going into the vein on his right arm in the crease of his elbow for the medication that took away any form of pain he would feel from the operation. The tube keeping his lungs working was the more disturbing part but it didn't seem to be fazing Lily as much as (Y/n) thought it would.

"Go ahead." (Y/n) responded quietly, fighting back the tears in her eyes when Lily gently took Roger's hand in both of hers, avoiding the dull grey clip on his index finger monitoring his pulse. Lily slipped her fingers into the alinements between his own like he always did when she wasn't feeling well. Taking a seat on the chair beside the bed, (Y/n) sat Rosie on her lap, gently rocking the little girl to keep her calm as she turned her head away so Lily could talk to Roger. Not wanting to watch or listen if Lily didn't want her to, preferring to have a moment on her own with him.

After a few minutes, Lily stopped talking, instead opting to lay down in the small space beside him. Her head resting just below his shoulder as she held his arm to her chest.

"Who's this, Rosie?" (Y/n) mumbled, standing to her feet so she could move closer to Roger. Holding the three-year-old in one arm as she gestured to Roger with her other hand, gently brushing his hair back behind his ear as Rosie suddenly reached out for Roger, jacket still in hand.

"Daddy!"

Seeing her sister reaching out for him Lily pushed herself so she was sitting back up against his torso again, gesturing for Rosie to sit in front of her since there wasn't that much space on the bed. (Y/n) carefully set the toddler down in front of her sister who wrapped an arm around her middle to stop her from trying to clamber onto Roger's chest for a cuddle like she usually did.

Leaning over, Rosie gently patted Roger's shoulder as if to try and wake him up. Stopping when (Y/n) shook her head, pressing her index finger to her lips to signal that Roger was sleeping. Rosie nodded before moving the jacket in her hands, clumsily splaying it over Roger's chest and shoulders. Allowing (Y/n) to pull it over his other shoulder she couldn't reach due to the breathing tube being in the way. Rosie gently patted the jacket to either smooth out the wrinkles or just for good measure before she curled up on Roger's shoulder, continuing to pat just below his collar bone right next to his shoulder.

When it seemed about time for them to go, Rosie was fast asleep which made it that much easier for (Y/n) to scoop her up without any objections about not wanting to leave Roger just yet.

"Ready?" (Y/n) whispered, looking to Lily who gingerly held out her index finger asking for one minute with Roger alone. Smiling when (Y/n) nodded, running a hand through the elder girls hair before disappearing with Rosie to wait outside.

"I'll look after mummy for you until you come back home."

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger x reader #imagine #queen band #so many reasons

[alydiarackham]

(Cover by me)

Lady Rackham: An Unusual Tale of Piracy, Romance and Swashbuckling Upon the High Seas by Alydia Rackham

Prologue

St. George’s Channel

April 1st, 1744

                 "Good lord, she's been blinded."

               "Belay that please, Doctor. Get your kit and bring it to the captain's cabin, if you would."

The first mate, after issuing that quiet order, turned away from the doctor and grabbed the arm of the woman next to him. His pulse hammered, but he ground his teeth and said nothing. He didn’t dare do what his arms screamed to do: scoop her up and carry her—

For, though a lady—she was also his captain.

The cold night wind gusted through his shoulder-length, chestnut hair, and restlessly tossed her tangled ebony tresses. He lifted her over the rail—her boots clunked as she landed on the rocking deck.

He ducked his head and urgently searched her features by the deep orange light of the lamps. Her hat was missing, and mud caked her long coat and trousers. The tie of her white tunic beneath lay undone, and her belt hung sideways.

But his heart skipped a beat when he saw what the doctor had spotted:

A deep, vertical cut that began above her right eyebrow and trailed down somewhere across her right cheek. He couldn’t find where it ended, because blood coated almost the entire side of her face. His throat closed.

               The ship's doctor hurried off to his own cabin to retrieve bandages. The first mate glanced warily out past the railing to the empty sea beyond, heard only the restless waves lapping softly against the hull—so he turned back and took hold of his captain’s elbow.

She nudged him away, and proceeded on her own power, head high. He darted ahead, opened the cabin door for her, and stepped out of the way as she passed.

               He entered after, then quickly strode across the rug past her to light the lamps. The flames soon illuminated the plush room, filled with finely-carved furniture, tapestries and scarlet pillows and drapes—and now he could assess the state of his captain better.

She yanked off her soggy coat and tossed it aside, revealing more of her slight but knife-like form, clothed in a loose shirt, figure-keeping leather bodice and trousers. She yanked off her boots as well, and threw off the bandana that covered the top of her head. The first mate stood to the side, watching uneasily as blood dripped from her chin and onto her white sleeves.

               A knock at the door.

The first mate hurried over and opened it. The bearded doctor stood there, brow knitted, holding a wooden box and a bowl of water.

                "Reynolds," the first mate nodded. "Come in."

               "I don’t need that doctor," the captain growled from behind. The first mate glanced back over his shoulder to see her flop down in a chair behind her chart table. The mate's brow furrowed.

               "Is there harm in having him look at you, Captain?" he asked quietly. She didn’t look at him, for she kept her right eye mostly shut, but she shook her head.

               "I don't want him right now. Bring me the kit."

               Ducking his head, the mate took the box and bowl from the doctor, shut the door, came back and set them down on the map. He hesitated, waiting, but she didn’t say anything. So he turned to go.

                "Stay, will you, Mr. Young?" she asked, her voice softer than before.

Mr. Young paused, then nodded.

               "Yes, Captain. If you wish."

However, she didn’t offer him a chair, so he stood, his head slightly bent, his ragged hair brushing the shoulders of his doublet. He folded his arms, and absently ran his hand back and forth against his short beard. And he watched her.

She opened the box and pulled out a clean rag, and with practiced hands, dipped the rag in the water and gingerly began wiping away the blood. She started with her eyelid, and the tender skin around it. Mr. Young held his breath. Slowly, the mess came away enough so that he could glimpse her long black eyelashes…

And then both of her bright, ebony eyes flashed up to meet his. She smiled crookedly.

               "I lost my hat."

                Mr. Young let out his breath. He lifted an eyebrow.

               "You almost lost your eye."

               She grunted and squeezed her right eye shut again, starting on her cheek. Mr. Young's gaze drifted over her features as she slowly uncovered her soft, tanned skin, along with her comely nose and the corner of her mouth.

               "You look pale, Mr. Young. You’ve never seen blood before?" she muttered.

               He closed his fists.

               "Why did you not let me come with you?" he demanded. The captain snorted.

                "Come now. What would I say to your betrothed if I had to hand her back that ring she gave you and tell her I got you killed?"

The rag strayed into the center of her wound, and she suddenly hissed. She threw the rag down with a slap, and her shaking hand twitched back up toward her face.

Mr. Young reflexively started forward—then instantly stopped himself. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his head further and settled his hands on the edge of the table.

She took a tight breath, her jaw clamped, and a hand bedecked with rings drifted down to rest on the parchment map.

               "I had him, Young," she muttered, her black eyes burning as she stared at the wall of the cabin. "I had him. And then one of his rats shot at me from above. I thought I'd been killed. Then he sliced my face open. I stepped back and fell into a ravine. It was too dark for him to find me." The captain snatched the rag up, dipped it to try again, glancing blackly back up at her first mate. "One thing I did learn: he’s heading to the Caribbean, after he takes on cargo. We’ll fly ahead of him and lie in wait. In my own waters, in my own tides and islands." She squeezed the excess bloody water out on to the map and bared her teeth. "I'll have him yet."

 Chapter One

Portsmouth, England

May 11th, 1744

                 "Not so tight! Luellen, not so tight!"

               "'ow many times 'ave I told you, Mistress? It's got to be tight to show off your form!"

               "I won't have any form left if you keep...ah! If you...If you keep pulling those stays!"      

Lady Gwendolyn of the House of Montgomery held tightly to the post of her elegant wooden bed, trying to keep from being yanked backwards as her red-faced, plump maidservant gave another hard tug on her corset stays. Luellen huffed, finally finished, and tied the bindings.

               "There now. I've kept you a notch looser than yesterday. You can thank me." Luellen slapped Gwendolyn's corset, but Gwendolyn couldn’t even feel it through the thick, hard material.

               "Thank you. You're very kind," Gwendolyn grunted, trying to stand up straight and wincing as she did. Though she was nearly nineteen, she had always bucked the idea of wearing a corset. Most of the other young ladies she knew had been tightened much further by now and professed to be quite comfortable—though Gwendolyn didn’t know how that was possible.

               She glanced about her sleeping quarters. She had two tall windows facing west, and each housed a plush, red velvet window seat. Long, lace curtains hung from golden rods up above the open windows. She liked to smell the salty freshness of the nearby sea.

Luellen huffed again as she dug through Gwendolyn's largest piece of furniture: a beautifully carved, oak wardrobe that had belonged to Gwendolyn's mother. Gwendolyn stood in front of the mirror, waiting, absently touching her corset and bloomers and wishing for the days of her childhood when she could just run around in a sack and bare feet.

Thoughtfully and a bit sleepily, she ran her hand through her long, light-brown hair and wished for a thin, cotton dress to match her blue eyes…    

               "'ere now. 'ow about this one?"

Gwendolyn blinked and turned to find a slightly disheveled Luellen holding out a voluminous red-and-gold gown.  Gwendolyn made a face.    

               "Ugh, no. It is far too warm for that one. Besides, we're not expecting any company."  

               "Well, I’m tired of choosing every day, only to have you tell me no!" Luellen cried. "Which do you want?"    

               Gwendolyn stepped past Luellen to peer into the wardrobe. She fingered each rich dress, and at last she reached to the very back and pulled out a simple, sky blue dress that she had not worn for months.  

               "This," she decided.  

"But that’s no longer in fashion at all!"    

"I don’t mind," Gwendolyn smiled. "I’d much rather be cool than in fashion."          

Sighing and rolling her eyes, Luellen helped Gwendolyn on with her petticoats and other undergarments, then pulled the blue dress over the lady's head and smoothed it down. A very simple dress; no frills or laces,  elbow-length sleeves,  a slight bolster, and, most importantly, made out of a linen fabric that breathed.  

After Luellen had fastened it in the back, she bade Gwendolyn to sit down in front of her white vanity to do her hair.    

"Don't make a fuss about it today," Gwendolyn urged. So Luellen pinned Gwendolyn's hair up in a loose bun that allowed some strands of hair to fall loosely down. Gwendolyn didn’t even put on any jewelry, for she didn’t want to go out today. Instead, she felt like finding a place in the shady library, ordering a cup of tea, and continuing the book that had engrossed her all week.  

A knock at the door—three sharp taps.

Gwendolyn gasped and stood up, banging her knees on her vanity and rattling her perfume bottles.    

"Come in, Jonathan," she winced.

The latch worked and the door swung open. A stiffly-dressed, wigged old servant with a wooden expression, bowed shortly.  

"My lady, your father bids you to the grand entrance immediately."  

"Thank you.”

Gwendolyn did not wait. She shoved her stool out of the way and followed Jonathan out the door and down the spacious, airy corridor, lined with decorative tables and solemn portraits.  Despite Jonathan's age, he moved swiftly, and Gwendolyn rustled along behind him, trying to breathe enough to keep up.  

They hurried down several flights of winding stairs and finally emerged into the tall, marbled grand entryway, beneath the glimmering crystal chandelier.  

Her father stood there by the tall front door, garbed in his finest Navy uniform and bedecked with all of his medals.  He wore his white wig perfectly. But his sea-weathered face didn’t turn toward her as she entered.  Which was good—for all the blood drained out of her head at the sight of other person in the room.    

A young nobleman, straight as a beech tree, wearing a beautifully-embroidered blue riding suit, a plumed hat under his arm. Handsome and placid; his dark eyes focused on her father, his brown hair pulled back in a black ribbon.  

Jonathan stopped, and cleared his throat. Both her father and the nobleman turned to look at Gwendolyn.  

Instantly, her father's blue eyes pierced her. The nobleman's face remained unchanged.    

"Come here, Gwendolyn," her father ordered, motioning to her.

Johnathan stepped out of the way, and Gwendolyn cautiously stepped up to her father's side. He did not touch her.  

“Gwendolyn, may I present Lord Gregory Bucklin, a cousin to the king," her father introduced. “Lord Bucklin, this is my daughter, Lady Gwendolyn Lilia of the House of Montgomery.”

               "It is an honor," the young lord bowed politely.

               Gwendolyn's throat closed.  She had heard this man’s name mentioned many times during her few stays at court.  And all of a sudden, she felt stupid for standing in the presence of royalty wearing an old dress, messy hair and absolutely no adornment or even perfume. She blushed.  

"I am equally honored, my lord." She curtsied, trying to hide her face.    

"Would you come sit with us, Lord Bucklin?" Her father gestured to a room off to his left.  

"Thank you, my lord," Bucklin replied coolly, straightening. Lord Montgomery then proceeded into the parlor, and Lord Bucklin indicated that Gwendolyn follow her father first. Getting the slight sensation of walking in a military escort, Gwendolyn managed to keep her face blank, and step into the smaller room.  

A couch and three chairs of floral upholstery and dark wood waited for them.  Lord Montgomery motioned for Gwendolyn to sit in one of these chairs, and he and Lord Bucklin settled into the other two.  

The three of them chatted casually for a few minutes about the roads, the weather, and the state of the Royal Navy.  Gwendolyn mostly listened, only speaking when her father or Lord Bucklin asked her a question, which they did not do very often.  At last, her father cleared his throat.    

"Well, now I suppose we should discuss the true reason for this house call,” her father began as he leaned back into his chair. “Gwendolyn, you know I have always looked out for your happiness. And it is for that reason that I have invited Lord Bucklin to our home today. A few months ago, he sent me a letter very honorably indicating to me that you had caught his eye during your stay at the royal court this past winter. Although he did not obtain an introduction, he found your manner to be amiable, beautiful, refined, polite, meek and worthy. Isn’t that true, Lord Bucklin?" her father asked, unable to hide a smile.  

"Yes, my lord.  Quite right,” Bucklin acknowledged—though Gwen saw him frown slightly.  Gwendolyn tried not to swallow.    

"Thank you, my lord," she replied.  

"He also indicated to me that, though he is nearing his thirtieth year, he has not yet married,” her father went on. Gwendolyn looked at him sharply. Her father continued, smiling.    

"In fact, he went to the court this spring with the intention of searching for a wife, as he is the only son of the aging Lord Andrew Bucklin. Correct, sir?"  

"Yes, my lord,” Bucklin said, glancing at Gwendolyn carefully.  Gwendolyn felt as if her corset were tightening of its own accord.    

"Therefore," her father said, with an air of finality. "If you will have him, I have found that he is a good and amiable man who can make you happy and protect you quite well, and have given him permission to court you with the intention of marriage. I thought that I should make sure that you are satisfied with the situation."  

She stared at him blankly. But the moment hung there, and so she made herself draw in a breath.  

"Thank you, Father," was all she got out—and even to herself, her voice sounded unrecognizable.  

"So," her father slapped his thigh, which made her jump. "My work is done; I'll leave you two alone for a moment, and then we shall have tea." The seaman rose to his feet, winced at an old pain in his back, then strode out of the room, leaving the door open.

Gwendolyn swallowed again, watching him go, then turned back to Lord Bucklin. However, she soon directed her gaze at her folded hands.  

"I am sorry about this," Bucklin said quietly.    

Gwendolyn managed to lift her eyes, her brow furrowing.    

"Pardon?" she murmured.

      Lord Bucklin shifted, then stood up, clasping his hands behind his

back, and stepped toward the window.

“When I saw you at court, I confess that I was pleased with your manner, your appearance, your beauty…your laugh,” he said hesitantly. “I had hoped to find a suitable time to be introduced to you, but no opportunity seemed to present itself.” He turned and faced her, his eyes bright and earnest. “I had no desire to make this seem like a business transaction—but the bluntness of your father’s presentation compels me to utmost honesty with you, trusting that you will understand what I say.”

Gwendolyn hesitated, then nodded carefully. Lord Bucklin shifted his weight.

“My uncle, Lord Andrew, has been placing considerable pressure upon me to find a wife to suit my station once I inherit. He has given me liberty to choose who I may—but he has restricted my time to choose to six months. I have already spent three of those in vain, and therefore I find myself in dire straits. My only good fortune seems to be the happenstance that you, the one who has caught my eye, are an honorable and good-hearted lady, and might tolerate such a union.” He glanced at the door, then lowered his voice, and tilted toward her. “I shall endeavor to make myself worthy of you, madam. And if you will have patience with me, I am certain we shall make the best of all of this, and in the end, be quite happy.” He tried to smile at her. “Shall we try?”

Gwendolyn’s heart pounded against her corset. She opened her mouth—  

"Excuse me my lady; my lord,” Jonathan interrupted, stepping halfway into the parlor. “Lord Montgomery invites you to the luncheon room for tea.”    

Lord Bucklin ducked his head, then glanced at her and held out his arm for her to take.

Listlessly, as if watching herself from a distance, Gwendolyn stood,  took his arm,  and followed after Jonathan.  

               The tea went much the way that the earlier conversation had gone:    small talk about nothing of significance, mostly between the two lords.  Gwendolyn simply tried to swallow her drink without being ill.  

Finally, after about a quarter of an hour, Lord Bucklin rose to go, explaining that he needed to see to some business at the docks. Gwendolyn and her father rose to their feet, escorted him to the door, and Gwendolyn permitted Lord Bucklin to kiss her hand. He then gave her a polite, quiet smile, and took his leave.  

After the door had shut behind him, Gwendolyn's father turned to her.    

"Well? What do you think of him?"  

Gwendolyn drew herself up and fought to control her voice.    

"He is...courteous."  

"Indeed, indeed,” her father nodded, clasping his hands behind his back just as Lord Bucklin had done. “That is exactly what I thought. Very amiable, agreeable man. And, he has excellent connections, a worthy family! His estate is old and prosperous, and he needs a son. A perfect match, dearest.  A perfect match. You are a fortunate girl!”      

"Yes, Father,” Gwendolyn whispered, but he wasn’t listening.  He drew himself up and strode purposefully out of the entryway and toward the library, already deep in another thought.  

Slowly, Gwendolyn turned around and trudged up the stairs—but soon her footsteps quickened, and before she knew what she was doing, she raced up the stairs, pelted down the hallway, burst into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her. Her breath rasped in her throat because of her corset, and she felt ready to faint.  

"Mistress! Mistress, what's wrong?" Luellen yelped, throwing down her laundry and hurrying up to Gwendolyn.  

"They've arranged...  " Gwendolyn panted, feeling tears burn her eyes.  

"What? What are you talking about?" Luellen took her by the shoulders.    

"Father and...Lord Bucklin," Gwendolyn rasped. "Father would have me marry him."  

Luellen's hands slowly drifted down and away from her as Gwendolyn leaned heavily back against her door.    

"But mistress…You can't marry 'im!" Luellen said fearfully. "You're...."  

"I know, I know," Gwendolyn gasped, her face twisting. “I'm already engaged."    

 Chapter Two

 Gwendolyn shed her fine shoes, put on a pair of common work boots and then wrapped a ragged shawl of Luellen's around her shoulders. Carefully, after forcing Luellen into an oath of silence, Gwendolyn opened the door to the servants’ staircase, stepped through and quietly closed it behind her.  

A single gas lamp flickered in the darkness of the spiral staircase, and she tripped down the stairs, avoiding those that squeaked loudly.  

After several more twists and turns, her way lit by occasional lamps,  she pushed on a thick, crude wooden door and found herself outside. The brilliant day made her blink. The fresh scent of spring hung rich in the air, and the breeze warmed her skin, playing with the loose strands of her hair and her skirts.  

She closed the door, glanced about to see that no one was outside, and raced across the emerald grass to the tall, stately stables and darted inside.  

Panting, she shut herself in, the wind instantly stopping and the sweet scent of hay surrounding her.  She then made her way to a stall where she hurriedly saddled up her favorite mare. After once more casting a wary eye out the small window to see that no one occupied the yard, she shoved open the wide door with great effort, climbed up on her horse and urged her into a swift trot.  

They instantly broke out of the stables into the sunshine and wind.  Gwendolyn sought the wooded road, where she knew she could not be seen from the house, and at last her horse's hooves pounded against the soft dirt of the wagon road that led to the harbor.  

Soon, Gwendolyn left the woods behind her, and spectacular, rolling hills surrounded her. Jagged, rocky cliffs plummeted to the sea just to her right.  She could hear the distant roar of the breakers now, and the bustle of activity within the nearby city of Portsmouth.  

After three more bends in the road, the bun in her hair almost completely undone by the whipping wind, the road turned to cobblestone, and small, quaint homes and businesses rose up on either side of her.  

All manner of people walking quickly up and down filled the streets, tending to business—some sweeping about in cloaks or uniforms or fine dresses, others trooping by in dirty work clothes and leather, tricorn hats.  Others rode, and quite a few drove carts or wagons that rattled hard against the stones.  Gwendolyn forced herself to pull back on the reins and slow her mount's speed, but her heart kept pounding.  

She glanced up. Ahead, down the hill and by the sea stood the tall port buildings, and wooden docks jutting out into the silvery, churning sea. Sunlight sparkled blindingly against the water, turning the ships to black silhouettes.  

Three ships floated in the wide harbor: two rather small ones and a very large merchant vessel. Gwendolyn bit her lip.  She could just see the hardy men hefting the loads of boxes, barrels and sacks back and forth along the docks.  

After an impossible half hour, she finally broke out of the loud, hustling masses and took a side street that ended very near the docks.

At last, she burst out of the little alley and trotted up to dock ten, where the largest, grandest vessel lay moored.  

She had never seen a ship like it. Painted black and red—a forty-gunner.  As she dismounted and tied her horse, she marveled at the height of its three masts, the beauty of its carved, teak wood, the length of its thick body, the pride of its forward thrusting bowsprit, and the vast shadow it cast upon the water. A fierce queen, a sword held straight forward in one hand, formed the magnificent figurehead. Clearly, this ship had been constructed for traveling over the broad Atlantic.  

Gwendolyn pulled her attention down from the massive ship to the line of workers hauling the supplies up and down the creaking dock, urgently searching their faces for a familiar one.  

There.

He stood near the gangplank, giving orders to the men trudging up and down it, a ledger under his arm. He was short; perhaps just three inches taller than Gwendolyn. He had fair skin, a sharp nose. He had ginger hair, and a strong, nimble form.  He wore a white shirt that had sleeves that came down to his elbows, a brown waistcoat, a battered tricorn hat, and a thick, tan trousers that came down to his knees, and white hose. His simple buckled shoes had seen too much wear. And ink stains marked his pointing hand.

Gwendolyn stepped around the weather-beaten dock building and hurried out onto the wooden dock, careful to avoid the workers. Halfway to the gangplank, she shouted:  

"Shea! Shea MacCaulay!"  

The young man instantly stopped and turned to her.  A sparkling grin flashed across his face, and his eyes, the color of the sea behind him, sparkled.  

"Gwendolyn!" he crowed, put his ledger down on a barrel and dashed up to her. Before she could say anything, he had swept her up and twirled her around,  laughing, and his hat fell off.  After he had set her down, he withdrew a bit, the breeze fluttering through his wild hair. He grinned at her in delight.        

"I'm so glad you came today!"  He reached down, snatched up his hat and stuffed it back on, then clasped her soft hand in his calloused one. “Just look at her!" He swept his other hand grandly to draw her attention to the magnificent ship.  

"She's beautiful,” Gwendolyn managed, trying not to tremble, and holding on to his left hand with both of hers.    

"Your father's just hired her," Shea told her, glancing at Gwendolyn. "She’s a brigantine. Her name is Annabella. In three days, she'll be carrying shipments of supplies and ammunition all the way to the colonies in the Caribbean."  

"Shea,” Gwendolyn said—or tried to say.  All that came out was a strangled whisper, and he didn’t hear her.  Her grip on his hand tightened and her shivering grew worse.  

How was she supposed to tell him?    

She moved closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder as he studied the splendid vessel.  She felt him take a deep breath.    

"The West Indies and the Caribbean," he said breathlessly. "Can you imagine that? The West Indies! I've talked to sailors that have been there; they told me that there's more gold than you could wish for; and that the water is a color of blue that you've never seen, and it's so clear and warm that it's like bath water. There are also jungles and mountains and huge fish and parrots and things like that...But mostly there are…pirates." He chuckled. "I must go there someday."  

Gwendolyn backed up slightly and looked at him, his unruly hair blown in the salty wind, his cheeks ruddy,  his eyes alight as he stared at that ship, the grin on his face broadening.  

She could not tell him.  Not when she knew it would wipe that wonderful expression from his face—the expression that had made her fall in love with him.  

He blinked and turned to her,  a shadow crossing his sunny visage.  

"Something wrong?"    

Gwendolyn instantly gathered herself and put on her best teasing

face.    

"This place sounds quite dangerous."  

He cocked an eyebrow, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his

mouth.  

"Are you saying that I shouldn't go?"    

"Not at all.” She glanced down at their hands and fiddled with the broad, coarsely-worked Irish ring on his right hand—his only bit of finery— then lifted her head and smiled at him. “I merely insist that you take me with you.”      

He laughed out loud and kissed her forehead.    

"We'll see."  

Chapter Three

May 27th

Gwendolyn sighed and glanced at the little white-and-gold clock that sat on the wooden mantle in the library. She had been reclining on the couch, endeavoring to read, all morning and early afternoon. It was now nearly three o'clock; Lord Bucklin would be calling soon. Gwendolyn bit her lip and forced her attention back to her book.    

It had been two weeks since his courtship had become official, but during Lord Bucklin's daily house calls, Gwendolyn had managed to be evasive enough not to allow a wedding date to be set.  However, he came so often and stayed so long that she could not escape to the docks.    

She had been praying so hard. Every night for hours and hours she knelt beside her bed, beseeching God to show her what she should do.

She had not yet received an answer.  

Two low taps came at the door. Gwen paused, her head coming up.

It had to be Beth, one of the maids.  

"Come in,” Gwendolyn called, adjusting the pillow beneath her elbow. The door creaked open and the slight girl edged inside, holding a small, paper-wrapped, square package.    

"This parcel came for you, madam." She stepped toward Gwendolyn and held the package out. "Jack went to town today, to the bookstore to see if Lord Montgomery’s maps had come in yet. The shop keeper said that this had been left for you."  

"Thank you, Beth.  You may go,” Gwendolyn murmured, sitting up and taking the package.  Beth curtsied, then left the room and shut the door behind her.  

Gwendolyn's hands trembled.  Nothing had been written on the brown paper. Quickly, she untied the twine that bound it, pulled off the paper—and found a small blue book in her lap.    

     "The Islands and Surrounding Waters of the Caribbean and West Indies, and All Manner of Man and Beast That Dwell Therein," she breathed the gold title to herself. She opened the front cover. An envelope slid out. She snatched it up.

Nothing had been written on it either. She quickly broke the wax seal and tugged out the paper within.

May 13th, 1744

My dearest lady,              

      I have been given a great opportunity.      

Your father, a faithful and generous master to me always, has hired me as one of the crew of the Annabella, which sets sail today. But I enlist not just for a regular crewman's sum. Your father has spoken to the captain, and he is willing to put me in charge of several important duties which will require more pay—and as a result, I shall be paid more in one voyage than I could earn in five years as a shipping clerk.        

That means that when I return, I will be able to marry you.    

I desperately want you to know that this is the only reason that I

would take hold of this opportunity. Leaving you behind is proving to be one of the most difficult experiences of my life. It is made even more difficult by the fact that your father has kept me so busy that I have been completely unable to find a way to see you, and thus I had to settle for sending you this note, which at the very least is completely inadequate.      

     I want you to know, Gwen, that I love you.          

    That is why I go. And indeed, even the prospect of seeing the West Indies does not sound so appealing since I cannot say goodbye as I wished. But the entire journey is truly more valuable to me than any riches or adventure, because it will enable me to gain what of late I had thought was unattainable.      

      Pray for my safe voyage. I shall be thinking of you always—imagining my lady in the lovely countryside of England, fair and unspoilt as a rose.

I shall be forced to winter in the Caribbean and shall return home in perhaps August of next year.

                 Yours,    

                Shea Benjamin MacCaulay    

          P.S. This is the most detailed book that I could find about the Caribbean, and also sailing ships; different pirates and pirate ships. There is also an excellent map in the fore pages, on which I have taken the liberty of drawing out our route and the days on which (approximately) we shall be stopping at each island. I thought, in that way, that you might almost feel as if you could see through my eyes.    

              SBM    

           Gwendolyn couldn’t breathe.  She sat frozen on the couch, every muscle taut,  the heat draining from her face. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth.

The next moment, her father and Lord Bucklin walked in.  

"Dearest, Lord Bucklin has arrived,” her father announced—too loudly. Lord Bucklin, as handsome and neat as ever, strode in, bowed, and held out a handful of colorful flowers, a smile lighting his face.  

Gwendolyn didn’t look at either of them. She stared straight out the broad western windows, out at the rolling hills and the gray, tossing sea. Her hand fell into her lap.  

The date on the letter.

He had been gone for two weeks.  

Two weeks—and she had known nothing about it.  

Her stomach lurched.    

"Gwendolyn?" The cheeriness had vanished from her father's voice. She didn’t move.  

"Father,” she rasped. “Father you...you sent him…"

  "What?” Lord Montgomery stepped toward her quickly. “Are you quite all right? You’ve gone pale!”

She dragged her eyes up to meet his.  He watched her intently, his brow furrowed. She swallowed.    

"I've just heard...” she whispered. “I've heard that you...you've sent one of your...one of your shipping clerks to the West Indies."

"Of course. I do that almost every year," her father said. "Is something wrong?" 

"Shea,” Gwendolyn murmured. “You...You sent Shea MacCaulay."    

"Yes,” her father said gravely, straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back. "Yes, I did.  "    

Gwendolyn stared at him, feeling as if she had never seen him in her life.    

"Why?" she wondered dimly. He looked down at her sharply, then glanced up in thought, cleared his throat, then returned his gaze to her.  

"Very well, it is time I made you aware.” He took a deep breath, and raised his eyebrows. “I sent him away because I now know what he has been doing with his leisure time."    

Gwendolyn sat up straighter, and folded Shea's letter close to her.    

"What are you talking about?" she asked. Her father paced over to the window. Lord Bucklin still stood in the doorway, dumbly holding the flowers, his brow furrowed.  

"The other day, I found Luellen weeping, and I asked her what was troubling her," Lord Montgomery began frankly.  "She told me that you were engaged! 'Engaged,' said I.  'Of course, to young Lord Bucklin.' 'Nay,' said she. 'To a shipping clerk of your employ, a one Shea MacCaulay.'" Her father turned around and faced Gwendolyn squarely. "I realized then that you'd been led astray, my dear.  Deceived by the romantic promises of a seaman." He smiled gently at her. “And I forgive you for that.  You aren’t acquainted with these sailors the way I am. I know full well how they can capture a girl’s imagination with tales of adventure and faraway lands. But believe me—they each keep one such girl in every port!"    

Gwendolyn struggled to draw breath, to answer, but her mind spun.  Her father took a few steps toward her.    

"And there's something else you should know about that young Shea MacCaulay," he said slowly. "The monk that raised him told me all about his past. I kept it quiet for twenty years, graciously providing him with employment, giving the lad a chance to clear his blackened name—but now that I have discovered that this scheming devil had designs upon my daughter, my conscience is clear enough that I may let the entire world know that Shea MacCaulay is the son of a pirate—a pirate that went to the gallows for his crimes."

"But he's coming back...” Gwendolyn remembered weakly.

"No.” Her father shook his head.  "At the moment, he may believe that. I offered him a handsome pay. But the captain has orders to find him a situation in one of the ports, perhaps in the slave market.  Mr. MacCaulay always spoke so glibly about the Caribbean; I would wager it will suit him much better. And he will find a much more profitable use for his time.”   Lord Montgomery clapped his hands. "So, that clears away that particular problem quite neatly.  Now we can set the date for your blessed event. What say you?"    

"No. "    

Lord Montgomery went still.  

"What?"    

Gwendolyn lifted her eyes and met his.    

"No," she repeated.  

"No what?" her father repeated, bewildered.

Slowly, clutching Shea's book and letter to her chest, Gwendolyn stood up.  

"No. I won't marry him. I will not marry Lord Bucklin.  "  

Lord Montgomery glanced at Lord Bucklin.  

"What do you mean you won't marry him?" Lord Montgomery demanded, his voice rising.  

Lord Bucklin's brow furrowed.    

"My lady, I thought we agreed—"  

"I agreed to nothing,” Gwendolyn said flatly.

"Dearest, I have been completely fair," her father insisted. “I even asked you if you approved of this worthy young man.  "    

"Yes, you did.” Gwendolyn lifted her head, though her bones trembled.  "I have no qualms with this gentleman as he is—I have no doubt he is honorable and kind. But you never asked me who I loved."    

Her father's eyes suddenly flashed with fury.  

“What?!” he roared.  “What are you talking about?" He gestured violently. "Flinging yourself at some common shipping clerk! If your mother were alive, she’d wish that she never bore you!"   

Read this book: https://www.amazon.com/Lady-Rackham-Unusual-Romance-Swashbuckling-ebook/dp/B071ZZFSZS/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Lady+Rackham+Alydia+Rackham&qid=1572897680&sr=8-1

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