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whumpybucky · 2 years

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I haven't been able to stop thinking about this scenario and I finally found the time to write it out. It's some sort of Silver Fox AU (always inspired by the incredible @softersteve obviously) and poor Steve just needs all the cuddles.

1k of sick silver fox Steve and protective Bucky under the cut.

All sick hurt/comfort, no plot. Enjoy!

A rough groan left Steve’s lips as he closed the snooze on his alarm for the upteenth time. The afternoon nap had done nothing to evict the ache that had taken up residence in his sinuses since last night. That familiar pain along his cheek bones spreading to behind his eyes. The one that meant he was on his way to a sinus infection. Maybe even an ear infection if the full underwater feeling was any indication.

The serum had started to slow on his recovery time a few years back. Bucky’s too. After running them both through the gamut of tests, the head doctor of SHIELD’s medical team had joked that they were getting old. Bucky hadn’t found it funny.

Steve smiled at that memory, then blinked his eyes a few times trying clear away the puffy stiff feeling. In one, albeit slow, movement he shifted his legs off of the couch to sit up. The change in position moved the congestion in his head and a string of three rapid but strong sneezes overtook him before he had time to prepare.

“Huh'ESHooo! HhTSCH! ETCHieeew! Ughhhh… snnfff!”

Steve grabbed a handful of tissues from the coffee table and attempted to blow his nose as gently as possible, but it was no use. The congestion was stuck in his head like wet cotton and he was left dizzy, ears buzzing.

There would be no hiding this from Bucky, that’s for sure.

When his husband had left earlier that week for recruit training, the beginnings of the cold had just settled in. Bucky had been so distraught about leaving him, despite Steve’s assurance that he would be fine.

“I just hate leaving you right as you’re getting sick,” Bucky had said sweetly as he hugged Steve goodbye.

“Buck, I’ll be okay. You’re only gone four days—”

“Four and a half,” he had corrected with a worried tone.

“Four and half,” Steve repeated with a smile. “It’s just a cold—”

“A bad one that knocked me on my ass for three days. That’s with the serum.”

Steve saw the concern painted across his husband’s face, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. The same look from all those decades ago. It still made Steve melt.

“Buck, sweetheart… snfff! I promise I’ll go to med if there’s even a hint of a fever.”

“You better,” he had asserted, along with his best ‘I'm not kidding’ look before pressing a soft kiss into his forehead. His lips lingered ever so slightly, which had made Steve chuckle.

“I don’t have a fever.”

Bucky had sighed at being caught in the act.

“I just worry about you,” he had admitted, barely above a whisper as he lowered his chin to rest their foreheads together, running his calloused hand through Steve’s sandy silver waves.

“I know you do, sweetheart. And I love you for it. You know I’ll send you status updates. Now go, or you'll miss your flight.”

Four and a half days came and went. Bucky would be home in an hour and Steve was… well, he was pretty sure he was running a fever now. He felt like he constantly had to clear his throat and it ached whenever he swallowed. His head felt like it was full of concrete. And the pressure, the pressure made him want to sink back into the couch and keep his eyes closed for the foreseeable future.

Clearly Steve had cursed himself when he had assured Bucky he was feeling better the night before. He really thought he was. He had even promised him there would be vegetable barley stew for his return. He knew Bucky loved something comforting after a stint away.

Sighing at the combined thought of having to muster the energy to prepare dinner and disappointing his husband at his not improved state, the retired captain forced himself up off the couch and into their bathroom to take a hot shower. Maybe the steam would help loosen things up a bit.

Thirty minutes later Steve barely made it back to the couch. The steam had made little difference. Only enough to send his sinuses buzzing, sparking another string of painful sneezes. The congestion was definitely in his ears and it made him feel like he was on a boat, so much so that he had to hold onto walls and furniture as he walked back into the living room. Plus the loss of heat from the shower had him shivering since he got out, unable to regain the same warmth.

Steve decided he would sit for five minutes. Just to get warm again.

As he finished pulling the fuzzy blanket Bucky had bought him for his last birthday across his lap, Steve heard the deadbolt turn. The stew would have to wait.

*****

“Stevie? I’m back, baby,” Bucky called out to his husband as he toed off his shoes and hung his jacket on one of the hooks in the hall.

“In here, Buck.” The rough weakness of Steve’s voice, followed by a dry cough, made Bucky cringe.

“Steven,” Bucky chastised as soon as he had lowered himself onto the couch. Steve’s eyes fluttered open, offering a glassy blue look of apology—which Bucky accepted, noting the fevered flush across his cheeks and the puffiness around his forehead and cheekbones.

“I’m sorry, Buck, but dinner isn’t made, SNFF!—” he paused to cough, then cleared his throat, “I was getting better, I swear… SNfff!”

Bucky huffed, but not out of anger, “fuck, you know I don’t care about dinner, I just care about how you’re feeling now.”

Bucky cupped Steve’s cheek, his lips pouting slightly at the heat radiating from his husband’s skin. Steve sighed into his palm, likely reveling in the cooling contrast of the touch.

“I th–snnfff–I think I need to go to med,” Steve admitted, then suddenly turned away from Bucky’s hand and into his elbow, clearly about to sneeze. He hitched softly, coaxing out the strong soft triple.

“Huh… huh… hurrESHHUUU! het’STCH…huh’HSSHhhu!”

“I think so too. Bless you, three times,” Bucky offered along with several tissues.

Steve accepted them with a grateful nod, snuffling into the bunch before all but collapsing into Bucky’s chest.

“Poor Stevie,” Bucky whispered more to himself.

Then he wrapped his arms around his husband, leaning them both back into the couch. Then one hand rubbed soft circles on Steve’s back while the other carded fingers through his fever damp hair.

“Maybe in a little bit though?” Steve mumbled the delayed response into Bucky’s chest, followed by a weak cough. “Just got you back. Missed you.”

“Of course. Missed you too. So much.”

Bucky’s chest ached for Steve. For not being there when he needed. But as much as Bucky wanted to run his husband down to med right away, he couldn’t say no to holding him a bit longer. He was home. He could take care of him now.

#m/c/u #my fic #s/tucky #silver fox au #protective b/ucky #sick s/teve #i just want them to be together #poor stevie #sickfic #s/tucky sickfic #marvel sickfic

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blueskrugs · 3 years

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Airport Shenanigans | Matthew Tkachuk

this was @broadstbroskis‘s request! I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t really feeling either number you asked for, but I decided to have some fun with this! I also wanted to have something new for his birthday today, so here we are. not my best, and also minimally edited, but I hope you guys still like it!

20. stuck in an airport in a snowstorm

length: 1.1K

Matthew had insisted you get to the airport early, for some fucking reason, which is why you’ve already been sitting around for an hour when he gets back from checking the flights board. You look at him expectantly, but he just shakes his head.

“Snowstorm back home, they’re not letting any flights into Lambert,” Matt says, and Brady groans from the floor next to you. The Sens had been in town for the last game before break, so he was flying back home to St. Louis with you and Matthew. You think he was already beginning to regret that decision.

The airport was crowded, being only a few days before Christmas, but the three of you had claimed a small corner of the terminal for yourselves, spreading out all your bags– which there really were a lot of. There was an entire large suitcase just dedicated to all the presents the three of you were having to lug across the border. (Matt wouldn’t let you just have them delivered to his parents house, claimed he didn’t want Taryn snooping.) Matt flopped onto the floor next to Brady.

“I call not calling Mom to tell her,” Brady says, still staring at the ceiling.

Matt groaned. “Fuck.” He tilted his head to pout up at you.

“No way, I love you, but she’s not my mom,” you told him. He groaned again.

You pulled out your phone to check the weather. Snowstorm was right; it covered most of Missouri on the radar, and definitely didn’t look like it would be stopping anytime soon. Except your flight had just been delayed, not cancelled, which meant you were stuck in limbo for the foreseeable future (and couldn’t go home, either).

“What’re you doing?” Matt asked, hauling himself into a chair next to you and resting his head on your shoulder.

“Checking for flights to Chicago instead. Maybe we could drive down,” you told him.

“No way in hell am I driving five hours in a car with you and Brady.”

“Then what’s your big plan to get us home for Christmas then?” you snapped. Matt sighed and didn’t respond.

“I’m getting food,” Brady announced.

“Bring me back popcorn!” you yelled after him.

Eating your popcorn turned into throwing it to Matthew because he wanted to catch it in his mouth, which turned into him and Brady just pelting it at each other. It only ended when they accidentally hit some woman carrying a baby. Boys.

“Cards Against Humanity?” you suggested. You knew Matthew had thrown it in his backpack.

“Boring,” Matt said.

“You’re boring,” Brady shot back.

“Hide and seek?”

“Sardines?”

“Yeah, and who’s gonna watch our stuff?”

All three of you turned to look at the only other person near you, a college-aged girl who had been engrossed in her book the whole time you guys had been in the airport. The girl definitely recognized Matthew, but she agreed to keep an eye on your bags.

The boys decided that you would be “it” first and wandered away while you tried to figure out where to hide. You dug out a Flames hat from Matt’s bag, and a book from yours before settling in a chair at a different gate, texted Matt that you were ready. You watched Matthew and Brady walk right past you no less than three times, trying and failing to look casual, and not like they were hopelessly lost.

Sardines lasted almost half an hour, until someone reported the boys for looking suspicious, and you got to watch them try and talk their way out of being chased by security.

You broke out TikTok around 11:30, lost yourself to the mindless scroll. Matt watched with you for a little bit, and you laughed at the crease between his eyebrows as he tried to follow the dances.

“Wanna do one?” you asked, waving your phone in Matt’s direction.

“Yeah, no.”

You hadn’t forgotten the meltdown the internet had had that time Taryn had gotten him to do a TikTok with her. You scrolled for a second. “Here, look, this one is easy,” you said, handing your phone to Matthew.

“I think you and I have different ideas of what’s easy, babe,” Matt said, unimpressed, but he watched the video three times.

Twenty minutes and more attempts than you could count later, Matthew collapsed on the floor with a groan. You nudged him with your foot; he swatted you away but didn’t open his eyes. You were rewatching the last clip you had taken. It wasn’t perfect, but you had hardly expected it to be.

“I’m posting this,” you told Matt. He waved his hand at you.

You filmed another one, too, of the two of you attempting the koala challenge, but on those moving sidewalks. It didn’t end well. (You weren’t sure it would have gone any better on solid ground, either.)

It was 1 AM, and the airport was deserted. You were in that weird space where time didn’t feel real, and you couldn’t honestly have said what day it was or how many hours you’d been in the airport. Brady was half-asleep on the floor, and Matt was stretched across three chairs with his head in your lap. Your flight had finally actually been rescheduled, and would be leaving in another hour or so, which meant you’d be getting in at an ungodly hour of the morning. You were trying to decide if it was worth it to try and sleep and destroy your sleep schedule, or to stay awake and suffer. You and Matt were people-watching, amusing yourselves by making up the life stories of the other poor souls stuck in an airport in Calgary at 1 AM. Most of Matthew’s were completely ridiculous, but you were so tired you weren’t making much sense either. The only sign you had that Brady was still awake was that he occasionally snickered at something one of you said.

Before you knew it, they were finally calling your flight to board. There weren’t many people left, between the long delay, and it not being a crowded flight to begin with. The three of you were in a row together, but there was no one in the row next to you, so Brady claimed it and sprawled out across it. You and Matt spent five minutes arguing over who got the window seat. (You won.) It didn’t really matter, because it was the middle of the night, and you were pretty sure you would both pass out not longer after the flight took off.

Matthew held your hand from the seat next to you. Sure, you hadn’t planned on being stuck at YYC for hours, but at least you’d had some fun in the process. You kissed Matt’s forehead when he rested his head on your shoulder. Yeah, there were worse people you could’ve gotten stuck with.

#cait's holiday prompts #cait writes things #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic

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obiwanobi · 4 years

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In the Sith Senator au, I imagine that sheev introduces them either at a dinner party or maybe at a gala? anakin is in his robes as always and obiwan is super dressed up because he's a respectable senator thank you very much and he calls anakin darling and sweet thing and stuff like that and within an hour he has anakin wrapped around his finger

Okay, so WHY NOT BOTH? The last long post about this AU was painful, so have some “hate at first sight” and “0.2 sec for Obi-Wan to fix it and learn that banter and endearments can turn Anakin into a very charming mess”

The first time they met, Obi-Wan has just been elected Senator after working in politics on Stewjon for years, making enough important friends and empty promises to be re-elected even without showing his face on Stewjon until the next decade. It’s his first month back on Coruscant, close to Sidious after years on his own. He needs to show him that his presence here, so close to his Master, is right, and can only benefit their plans. Even when everything isn’t… great.

The committee of small planets of the mid rim is pestering him to join their sad little club of useless dustballs, he has dozens of demands of various needy mayors, dignitaries and even ministers from Stewjon to reply to, the Senate security staff are a bunch of lazy bastards who still haven’t given him his pass and badge to enter and exit the building whenever he wants to and keep pretending not to recognize him even though they force him to go through a full security check every morning, and he can’t find a decent assistant to hire.

You could say that Senator Kenobi is a bit on edge.

He really, really doesn’t need to be late to his first real, private meeting with Sidious, especially because his only excuse is ‘I forgot how busy traffic was on Coruscant in the morning, don’t blame me I’m used to the countryside and seeing more sheep than ships on my way to work”. That would probably not go too well.

Looking at his chrono every twenty seconds, he doesn’t pay enough attention to where he’s going and doesn’t notice the man turning at a corner on his side, running fast enough to come crashing against him without having the chance to do anything about it.

One second, a sharp cry, a flurry of dark robes and a cup of tea flying, and they’re both on the ground.

Obi-Wan isn’t pleased. You could say he’s even a bit exasperated, lying on his back, a stranger’s elbow digging in his stomach. And then he turns his head to see who’s stupid enough to run in the Senate’s corridors on a Monday morning and almost curses out loud when he recognises Jedi robes and a stupid Padawan’s braid.

It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s used to suppressing his Force-presence so no one can feel him and he’s not going to make a scene to attract more attention. He’s going to inhale and exhale slowly, accept the deepest of apologies from the stupid Jedi with a benevolent smile, repress his need to do something harsh, and be on his way.

But then the Padawan groans, rubs his head and asks reproachfully why Obi-Wan didn’t watch where he was going.

It’s eight am, half of his (expensive and only sold on Stewjon) tea on the floor, and Obi-Wan already wants to strangle a Jedi.

So, there is a shouting match.

Words like “pathetic life form” and “karking useless politician” are thrown, and it takes almost half a minute for Obi-Wan to realise that he’s arguing with a dumb teenager and that they’re still on the floor, half on top of each other. He, very politely, asks the Padawan to get the kriff up, doesn’t take the time to even look at the remains of his cup of tea after salvaging his wet datapad from the puddle on the ground, and leaves with one last silent death glare.

“You’re not even going to clean that?” the Padawan yells in his back, sounding revolted.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. What are droids for these days?

“You’re late,” Palpatine says flatly the instant the door of his office closes behind Obi-Wan. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Call me Chancellor for now. I want you to meet someone and he should be here soon. He could become important, maybe even crucial for our plans.”

“Oh? Another Senator or representative to charm?”

“Even better,” Palpatine smiles. And that’s what gets Obi-Wan interested. He knows this is the reason he’s here and the reason Sidious wants him in the Senate. Obi-Wan is a smooth talker, a nice face and a warm smile all in one. Someone who, with enough time and efforts, could make anyone believes in anything.

Palpatine always said that he was made for politics.

“He could be a decisive piece in this game. It will take a lot of careful manipulation and dedication to bring him to our side and I don’t have this kind of time to waste, so you’ll do. With enough care and patience, I think he could be the most loyal and useful… support, we could have.”

“Who is he? What do you want me to say and how far am I allowed to go?”

A knock at the door interrupts them. “For now,” Palpatine says in a low voice, sitting behind his desk, joining his hands together above it, the picture of old and trusted wisdom, “I just need you to make him like you.”

That’s not going to be a problem, Obi-Wan thinks, as the doors open. He straightens up, gets ready to put on his most radiant smile and displays an inviting openness and friendliness that few can resist.

The Padawan enters.

This is going to be a problem.

“Ah! My favourite Jedi!” Sidious exclaims loud enough to be heard over the music and raising his cocktail above their heads. Anakin Skywalker smiles as he sees him, and dutifully comes closer. The Chancellor makes a point of clapping his hand twice on his shoulder once Skywalker is in front of him, and leaves it there as he introduces him to his new chief of staff. If anyone is wondering what a Padawan is doing at a Senate party that should only include political staffers and a few dignitaries, no one breaths a word of it.

It gives Obi-Wan time to gauge, assess and appraise Skywalker, his reactions, body language, and anything he can learn from a simple conversation between Sidious and him. It would be his turn to do it soon. Relieve me from the burden of having to stroke the boy’s ego regularly so I can take care of more pressing issues, his master had snarled disdainfully. Right now, he’s playing the part of the dotting and proud fatherly figure to perfection, Obi-Wan has to give him that.

Attention, approval and respect, Sidious had told me. That’s all you need to be in Skywalker’s good graces. The boy will soak every bit of kindness you can spare, as long as he considers you someone worth his own devotion.

It didn’t stop Obi-Wan from learning absolutely everything he could about him, from his lightsaber technique to his favourite food because Obi-Wan is and will always be a very thorough man who doesn’t rely on luck or unprecise sciences like basic psychology. Especially from his Master, who probably never encountered an emotion or feeling he couldn’t twist to fuel his ambition.

Admittedly, Obi-Wan doesn’t share his Master enthusiasm for charming the brat and make him fall. He’s all for turning him against the Jedi, sure, that he can get behind and happily endorse, but having to deal with a moody teenager on a regular basis for the foreseeable future? It would be painful for everyone. Especially for Obi-Wan’s nerves.

Anakin Skywalker, reckless, volatile and troublesome former slave and actual Padawan, wasn’t the type of Sith candidate Obi-Wan would have chosen. Not at all. Too many variables, too many chances to go wrong, a wild card that he would never risk.

But Sidious is adamant. Doesn’t care for any of his arguments. He wants Skywalker, and Obi-Wan has started to realise why when he learnt all about the prophecy. Stealing the Jedi Chosen One and turning him against them in a last-second betrayal was the kind of symbolic irony Sidious loved and would gloat about for years to come. And when Sidious decides that he needs something, there is no going back.

But this time, Obi-Wan has to do all the hard work himself. He calculates that getting close to Skywalker, especially after their more than tense official introduction, is going to take months, maybe even (and Obi-Wan shudders at the thought) a year. Trapped at playing nice with an overgrown child who hates being told no and likes to think he’s above the rules. For no direct and personal benefit but the approval of his own Master.

Obi-Wan really, really hates it.

But that’s not going to stop him from completing his mission perfectly, as he has always done.

“I’m glad to see you, Chancellor,” Skywalker says softly, his quiet tone already at odd with what Obi-Wan expected. He grew taller than the last he saw him, and Obi-Wan hates it. His braid is a bit longer and his robes are a shade darker than a few months ago. Something passes in his eyes when the Padawan notices Obi-Wan’s presence next to the Chancellor and his head snaps up defiantly. “Senator Kenobi,” he grits out like the words pain him.

Obi-Wan needs to change this right now before Sidious deems him inapt for this mission.

He hates this a bit more.

The opportunity is given quicker than he thought when Sidious excuses himself and leaves their little group to mingle with other demanding sycophants. Obi-Wan gets stuck with Skywalker, Sidious’ chief of state who’s apparently only here for the free drinks, and Keneg, the senator of… Corulag? Barl’leth? One of those rich Core planets that hate anyone who isn’t them but need to be kept around for their credits, who always seems to suck years of his life every time Obi-Wan is forced to speak to him. It takes thirty seconds for all of them to grow bored of Keneg incessant complaints about how the lower levels of his planet are “ruining its reputation” and that the problem resides in their too lenient immigration policy, especially concerning poor and uneducated races.

Skywalker’s face is a journey. At least twelve different emotions play through his eyes, the twists of his mouth and raised eyebrows like a theatre actor in a dramatic scene at each careless word coming out of the Senator’s mouth, and Obi-Wan wonders if anyone has ever told him that Jedi are supposed to be masters of their own emotions first and foremost. Especially around politicians.

But it doesn’t matter right now, because that’s the opening he was waiting for.

“Excuse me Senator Keneg,” He cuts him off politely before another endless tirade. “I’m afraid I have to go, I see the Senator of Botor and I’ve been trying to talk to him for months. Surely you understand. Padawan Skywalker, may I ask for your assistance? We could use some Jedi wisdom in our debate, if you don’t mind.”

Skywalker looks torn between being relieved to be offered an out from an awful conversation, but also have no desire to spend more time with Obi-Wan.

“Sure,” he ends up mumbling, apparently judging that he was the lesser of two evils.

“Wonderful.” Obi-Wan doesn’t pay any attention to the betrayed look Sidious’ chief of state sends him after being left alone with Keneg.

“So,” Skywalker says, resigned, following Obi-Wan who’s making a beeline for the bar. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The senator of Botor? And what’s your deal with him?”

“I don’t even know what he looks like,” Obi-Wan replies, trying to ignore the casual tone Skywalker shouldn’t take with a Senator, even one he dislikes.

“What? Then why did you ask me to come with you?”

“Aren’t you relieved that I saved you from dreadful hours of xenophobic discussions about how poor people should be banned from showing their face in public because it doesn’t please Senator Keneg?”

“You didn’t save me,” Skywalker grimaces, but still seats beside him. “Is it… Is it always like that? I mean, I know Core worlds politicians can be a little…”

Obi-Wan weighs his options, and decides that Skywalker would probably appreciate truth more than carefully chosen words and subtle hypocrisy. Pretending to be the last nice man in politics is out of the question with the way they met, so Obi-Wan opts for sincerity.

To a degree.

“Snobbish? Disconnected from reality? Shameless bastards with no souls?” Obi-Wan says while signalling the bartender for Trandoshan ale and a cocktail.

“Well, yes.”

“Welcome to politics.”

Skywalker opens his mouth like he’s going to protest. He puts his hands in his sleeves, probably hoping to pass for a wise Jedi Master, but his pouty lips and frowned eyebrows make him look like a sulking youngling. “You’re part of it, you know. You can talk about it like you’re not one of them, but I remember you insulting me and leaving without caring about your tea and cup all over the floor.”

What a brat.

“My tea- My dear, do I have to remind you that you barreled into me at full stupid and made me spill my tea everywhere? Some Senators would have made a diplomatic incident out of it,” he huffs, a bit more irritable than he wanted to.

“You said I was a brainless child!”

“Because you ar—” Their drinks arrive at that moment, and it gives Obi-Wan precious seconds to compose himself.

This isn’t how he’s supposed to play it. He didn’t expect Skywalker to be this whiny and petulant, despite Sidious’ warning, and was planning on letting him think he was the one in control of the situation. He’s supposed to be a Jedi for Force sake, not someone who can’t control their tongue and get into pointless fights with politicians!

No, no. Grin and bear it. Obi-Wan should recall the last remnant of Jedi philosophy still in him.

“Padawan Skywalker, I’m sorry if my words offended you,” Obi-Wan says with the voice he normally uses for debates where he wants to appear as the most sincere and reasonable party. He holds a glass of ale to Skywalker, as a peace offering. “I admit I wasn’t in the most pleasant of disposition at that time, and I may have been harsher than I realised. I hope you can forgive me.”

This seems to mollify Skywalker a bit. He doesn’t look like he’s going to forget it, but does take the offered glass. “At least the Chancellor is different,” he sighs and Obi-Wan represses the urge to burst into laughter.

Oh, Skywalker is truly the most naïve boy around. Perhaps twisting his mind will turn out to be fun.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan exclaims suddenly as the Padawan holds the glass to his lips, “are you even old enough to drink?”

“Oh come on, I’m 19! I can handle a beer and I’m a Jedi, don’t forget,” he brags, like being Force-sensitive changes anything about his (probably low) alcohol tolerance. To be fair, a regular politician wouldn’t know anything about what the Force could and couldn’t do. Skywalker’s probably relying on lack of awareness about the magic and mysterious abilities of the Jedi to get away with it. It’s almost endearing.

“I don’t know, Padawan, you did look like an adorable sulking youngling just a minute ago.”

“Ador- I’m not adorable!” He yelps as his cheeks turn into an interesting shade of pink.

“But you don’t deny the youngling comment,” Obi-Wan teases good-naturedly between two sips of his cocktail. He can’t help it: It is way more intriguing to follow the colours on his face spreading to his neck than being on the receiving end of his frowns and accusing words.

Unduly flustered for such an innocent comment, Skywalker stutters a few syllables, huffs, and narrows his eyes at his glass, Obi-Wan’s playful smile, and his glass again. He downs the whole thing with his head thrown back before Obi-Wan can say anything, surprised by the sudden motion and too busy watching his throat moving until the empty glass is back on the table with a resounding clank. Still wiping his mouth, he calls the bartender and asks for another. Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the ‘don’t you dare stop me’ glare.

This isn’t how he imagined befriending him, but Skywalker is still seating next to him and getting into a rant about how he’s a capable man, thank you very much, and yesterday his Master even said so, well, not in these words, but he’s not a youngling, and absolutely not adorable, he’s a warrior, a protector, but he doesn’t suppose a politician can understand, and if Obi-Wan wants to know, his sabre technique is exceptional, really, it is!

His whole speech is supported by hands flying around to illustrate his words and mouthfuls of ale, because he is a man and not a kid, remember that, Senator Kenobi. It doesn’t prevent him from flushing a bit deeper and spluttering even more when Obi-Wan, listening attentively with a smile on his face, throws an indulgent of course you are, darling.

Skywalker turns his face away from him, desperate to hide his embarrassment, and orders another ale.

Adorable.

Obi-Wan can work with that.

Hours later, once Skywalker is happily sloshed and dangerously leaning toward crashing against his shoulder, Obi-Wan calls him a hover cab.

“Thanks, Senator Kenobi!” Skywalker exclaims as he climbs into the cab, like Obi-Wan is now his favourite person to be around. His cheerful and warm demeanour has stopped being surprising after his second ale. “You’re not as awful as I thought!”

Obi-Wan can’t help it, he laughs, truly laughs at that. It’s probably the most sincere compliment he’s gotten since he arrived at the Senate. “I’m glad you consider me a slightly better man than Senator Keneg,” he says, leaning forward toward Skywalker, hands on the cab.

Skywaker grins and raises an eyebrow at him. “And more handsome too!”

For once, it’s Obi-Wan who must look baffled. Despite his careful planning, all his diverse estimations and assessments about the different ways he could charm Skywalker, he didn’t consider actually seducing him. That’s… a whole new point of view.

Interrupting his thoughts, Skywalker yawns and starts hugging his robe around himself, smiling contently like he’s in the best place in the galaxy, barely trying to blink away sleep from his eyes. Adorable.

On an impulse, Obi-Wan leans closer to him and tugs on his braid. The reaction is worth it: Skywalker makes a small surprised noise, eyes suddenly wide, and the slight flush on his cheeks worsen in an instant.

Obi-Wan almost considers touching his face, just to see how warm his skin is. And maybe even brushing his parted lips with his thumb, just to see how warm it can still get.

But Obi-Wan feels merciful.

For tonight.

“Sleep well, Padawan,” he purrs, winding the thin braid around his finger one last time. Skywalker looks like he’s going to melt.

Obi-Wan can work with that too.

Two months later, Sidious tells him that he’s going to be the victim of an assassination attempt right before the Military Act vote. It would be acceptable for the Chancellor to be concerned about the protection and security of all Senators, of course, so he will push for Jedi protection and is certain to convince the Council to send one particular Padawan as a bodyguard.

Obi-Wan doesn’t hate the idea.

#these two asks were in my inbox for like... 2 months #I'm very slow but I don't forget!#sith senator kenobi au #anon #asks #obikin

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the-odd-job · 3 years

Text

Close Your Eyes to This Disaster Chapter 2: Where Has It Gone?

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use, Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers G1 Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Prowl, Jazz, Bluestreak Additional Tags: Dubcon, Sticky, Abusive Relationships, Mind Games, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 1549

( Previous )

Earth. For the time being, it looked like they’d be calling it home—along so with a host of Decepticons. With the Prime’s skills at diplomacy, the humans hadn’t quite welcomed the Autobots, but had at least agreed to leave them alone when they promised they intended no harm. And, once the Decepticons began to attack human establishments in search for energy and resources, the Autobots’ opposition of their enemy faction had warmed the humans to them further.

These were the kinds of details Sunstreaker didn’t care too much about, though. He held no love for the squishy organics that populated the planet, and the whole place was so full of… Dirt.

And now they were stuck here for the foreseeable future. His only consolation was the fact there were still Decepticons to fight to combat some of the boredom that might have otherwise come, and he had to admit that there was a strange kind of beauty to the alien world. Not to mention it had a star it orbited. They had stopped at other planets on the way to the accident that landed them here; daylight wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before, but it would be a long time before he got used to it after the eternal night Cybertron had been clad in for the entirety of his lifetime.

Sunrises and sunsets in particular were something to marvel at, and even now Sunstreaker sat on the edge of one of the Ark’s engines, the spaceship’s rear so protruding from the mountain it had been buried under for the longest time. It offered an excellent vantage point over the desert and the setting sun in the horizon. His drawing tablet was held steadily in his servos as he painted the sight with sure strokes of his stylus. It was a pleasure to even have a drawing tablet again, after he hadn’t possessed one since the beginning of the war. Excuse him for making the most of it now that he could.

Sideswipe’s voice rose from below him where his brother was chatting with Bluestreak and Jazz at Ark’s entrance. Sunstreaker let the conversation wash through him, Sideswipe’s laughter the only thing that he allowed to ring loud and clear in him. There was something about a bet relating to Prowl that Smokescreen had been organizing, Sideswipe’s intrigue over it clear. Jazz was always going to win any and all bets related to Prowl, but that never stopped others from trying to get even partial winnings. Wasn’t some fun at the expense of the black and white doorwinger just fun?

It was indeed, up until a fourth voice joined in. “I heard that.”

Sunstreaker grinned at Prowl’s flat and entirely unamused tone when the SIC joined them, his wings twitching stiffly in clear indication that he wasn’t all that pleased. Bluestreak squeaked and began to stammer apologies at once. Sideswipe just went on to laugh outright, as unapologetic as Jazz who wrapped an arm across Prowl’s shoulders. “Aw, Prowler. Just a bit of fun in good spirits, yeah? No harm intended, whatsoever.”

Prowl wasn’t having it, but Jazz was a terrible mech to argue with. With grins and playful words he shot down each of Prowl’s complaints until the tactician was dragging a servo down his faceplates, looking beyond frustrated.

Sideswipe was still snickering at the two, but Sunstreaker’s attention was pulled back to his work. The sun was going too low to be an useful reference anymore, but he was almost done anyway. One detail was fixed, other two added as he captured the last of the colors onto the screen, and then… He wasn’t going to make it look any better without spending an eternity on it.

Satisfied, Sunstreaker subspaced his tablet before pushing himself over the edge entirely, taking the too long fall down and landing heavily in the middle of the conversation. He took the pain in his legs gladly just for the others’ reactions. Sideswipe didn’t react in any way, of course; Jazz’s visor flashed and Prowl’s wings jerked and that was already quite a bit of reaction from them, but Bluestreak jumped back in fright. “Oh, Primus, Sunstreaker, can you not do that?” he squeaked. “I swear you’re going to snuff my spark one day with the scares you give by creeping up on mecha, and I don’t know how you even do it but it’s really disconcerting–!“

Satisfactory. “Do you want me to tell Ratchet that you’re apparently once again trying to injure yourself with foolhardy stunts?” Prowl asked from him, continuing on with laying down the effect his too sudden entries had on others–

There was just the slightest tug of a smirk at the corners of Sunstreaker’s mouth and he shrugged, uncaring despite the threats of getting Ratchet involved—which would end in something painful. In response Prowl’s doorwings hiked higher, but before he could gear up to more admonishment, Sideswipe clicked for their attention.

“As much as I’d love to stay and listen to your lovely voice,” his brother winked at the SIC, “I’ve got an early patrol in the morning. Figure I oughta go catch some recharge before that. Wouldn’t want to give the ‘Cons an easy kill ‘cause I was runnin’ low on charge.” In the middle of that Sideswipe set towards the Ark’s interior, Sunstreaker trailing a step after him.

“Have a good night!” Bluestreak wished after them, Jazz repeating the sentiment.

And Prowl, poor, poor Prowl only looked more aggravated. They’d inevitably do something to land themselves in his office again, though, they always did. He could lecture them all he wanted then.

And they would tune it all out and have no answers when Prowl demanded them to tell him what he’d just said. Then they’d be handed a punishment of some sort… Rinse and repeat ad infinitum. They never learned, much to their commanders’ eternal chagrin.

They headed straight to their quarters, Sideswipe practically dancing the way and Sunstreaker walking in a more sedate manner next to his energetic half. They passed a couple of mecha Sideswipe had friendly words for, Sunstreaker’s offer a glare, before they came to their door. Inside Sunstreaker laid down on their berth on his back, Sideswipe crawling on top of him, chest to chest. Their spark halves pushed on the insides of their spark chambers as they settled, drawn to each other with inescapable demand—but they didn’t merge their cores, only their fields. “Gotta find Smokes in the morning,” Sideswipe murmured. “I want in on that bet.”

“Shower and polish, too,” Sunstreaker added, letting his optics close once the lights in the room turned off. Sideswipe giggled.

“Wash before a dusty patrol, that’s such a good idea. It’s a backroads patrol, too.”

“It is.”

“Shower and polish. I need to get up early for that. Only need my ratios after the patrol.” Air pushed from Sideswipe’s vents as he relaxed fully and let silence fall despite his dislike of it, Sunstreaker taking his weight and doing the same. They set the length of their frames’ recharge cycles to give themselves enough time in the morning, before initiating them for their systems to power down.

They didn’t get the chance to run the full course of it, though. It was only three hours later according to their chronometers when there was a knock on their—careful, but loud enough to rouse them. They tensed, confused and still in the middle of bringing their systems online, but as ever, their combat programming reached its peak before anything else. Even if it was danger, they would be prepared.

However, a ping for identification said it was only Bluestreak. Sideswipe triggered the door to open. “Come in.”

Bluestreak’s optics glowed in the dark as he stepped into their room, wringing his servos together. “Thanks. I uh, ha-had a bad memory purge, I’m not really sure why because I haven’t done anything special, but I had one anyway a-and I really wouldn’t want to be alone right now but I can go if I’m bothering you–“

The twins untangled themselves and Sunstreaker scooted to the side until he was against the wall. Sideswipe gestured for Bluestreak to join them, his brother settling down next to Sunstreaker and beckoning Bluestreak to lay down on his other side. “’Course. C’mere and lemme cuddle you. I need a cuddlebuddy.”

Bluestreak cracked a small smile but took the invitation, nearly tripping over his own pedes in his rush to get the comfort of another. “I know you prefer to cuddle Sunny,” he said even as he got on the berth and burrowed into Sideswipe’s side, his doorwings in the open space behind him.

“Yeah, well, variety’s the spice of life,” Sideswipe grinned. “Plus he’s right there, so.” Sunstreaker huffed but let his optics offline again, Sideswipe doing the same. They didn’t continue their recharge cycles right away, though, instead waiting until Bluestreak began to relax and then, eventually, fell into his own recharge entirely, the sounds of his systems evening out. It likely wouldn’t be the last time they got the gunner in their berth like this, but it was big enough to accommodate all three of them, so what did it matter?

Besides, he was a friend, and wasn’t this what friends did?

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #maccadams #sunstreaker #sideswipe #bluestreak #jazz #prowl #fic #2021 #disaster

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noona-clock · 4 years

Text

Him - Part 5

Genre: College!AU, Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jinyoung x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of crime

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,756

Rather than dwell on the fact you were stuck with Jinyoung in this small library for the foreseeable future, you put your phone down, slid out of your chair, and made your way to the door to close and lock it.

“...What are you doing?” Jinyoung asked just as you gently grasped the doorknob.

“I’m... locking the door,” you answered as if it should have been incredibly obvious what you were doing.

...Because it should have been incredibly obvious.

“Why?”

After you heard the door latch, you turned the lock and then turned to face your interrogator.

“Didn’t you read the alert?” you asked with a hint of a scoff. “We’re supposed to lock the door until they tell us it’s safe.”

Jinyoung looked at you as if you were both crazy and adorable. He had that kind of expression which clearly said ‘Oh, you’re so cute but you have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Y’know, the look you might give a child when they tell you some fantastical story they obviously believe is true but really could never happen.

...Why were you thinking so in-depth about Jinyoung’s expression?

Stop it!

“You really think a bank robber is going to come into the literature building?” he asked, holding back a laugh.

“You never know!”

Jinyoung simply lifted his eyebrows. “...Right.”

With a roll of your eyes, you headed back to the table. But instead of sitting down, you grabbed your notebook, pencil, phone, and backpack and chose one corner of the library where you could sit on the floor and work in peace.

“Wow,” Jinyoung chuckled, sounding genuinely amused. “You don’t even want to sit near me.”

“Well!” you retorted, furrowing your brow as you looked up at him from your notebook. “I’m just following directions! You don’t have to act like I’m being stupid!”

“I never said --”

“You didn’t have to say it,” you spat. “It was very clear in your tone. Do I really think a criminal on the run is going to come into the literature building? No. The chances of that happening are very slim. But if the school is telling me to lock my door, I’m going to lock my door. For my own safety! And for yours, mind you. Despite what you may think, I actually do care about other people.”

Jinyoung opened his mouth to reply, but your phone buzzed before he got the chance to say anything.

A quick glance at your screen showed you that Teddy was calling you; you immediately felt like a terrible friend because you hadn’t even thought to make sure he was okay and in a safe place.

You answered it hastily, pressing your phone to your ear as your forehead wrinkled. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, girl, I’m in my apartment. Just locked the door. Where are you?”

“I, uh,” you began, lowering your voice as you snuck a glance at your lockdown partner. “In the literature building. In one of the libraries.”

“Is anyone else there with you?”

Of course, he had to ask that.

“I had a group interview for that TA position, so I’m still kind of in the middle of it,” you answered. You figured that was the best way to tell Teddy you were not alone without actually naming names.

“Group inter --” And then Teddy cut himself off with a gasp. “Do you mean -- he’s there with you?”

“Yup.”

“Oh-ho-ho,” he chortled. “This is gonna be good.”

“Thanks for your support, you’re a wonderful friend, and I’m glad you’re safe, thanks for calling, good-bye,” you said hastily. Before hanging up, you added a hurried ‘Love you’ and then set your phone face down on the floor next to you.

What happened next was such a blur, you almost believed it hadn’t happened.

After setting your phone down, you let out a soft sigh. You lifted your gaze to look back at your notebook. There was a rustling sound and a flurry of activity out of the corner of your eye, and before you could even look up to see what it was, you heard Jinyoung’s voice right beside you.

“I’m not really sure --” he began.

You jumped at his sudden presence, your hand flying to your chest as if that could calm your now racing heart.

“--Where you got the idea I think you don’t care about people, but that’s really not fair.”

And your shock quickly dissipated.

“It’s not fair?” you chuckled. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that life isn’t fair?”

Jinyoung simply pursed his lips.

“Besides, I got the idea from your own words.”

“What words?”

“When you said you didn’t particularly want to get to know --”

Oh, no.

Ohhhhhhhh, no.

You were not supposed to have heard him say that. He hadn’t known you were there when Teddy was on the phone with him.

Oh, this was bad.

You clamped your lips shut even though the damage had already been done. The look on Jinyoung’s face made that very clear.

“Ha!” he cried, his eyebrows raised. “You were there when Teddy called me! You made him call me because you’re the type who can’t stand if people think badly of her.”

“No,” you interjected passionately. “That is not true! I did not want him to call you. It was entirely his idea, and I tried to stop him because I don’t care what you think about me. I don’t care that you said you’re not interested in getting to know me. Okay?! I don’t care!”

Jinyoung chuckled breathlessly, nodding slowly as he said, “Oh, yeah. I can tell you don’t care by how emotionless and unbothered you sound.”

“But it is true that it wasn’t my idea to call you,” you insisted.

“So, you do care what I think about you.”

Boy, he was good.

“No!” you cried. “I don’t!”

“Then it means nothing to you if I said my answer to wanting to get to know you better was just a self-preservation tactic?”

“No -- wait, what?”

...A self-preservation tactic?

What was he actually talking about?

You stared at Jinyoung, waiting for him to answer you, and you noticed... his expression became... shy?

He kind of avoided your gaze, and the slightest hint of pink appeared on his cheeks.

“I, uh...” he began before he briefly pressed his lips together. “I mean, it -- it doesn’t really matter, I just -- I was -- it’s not --”

“Spit it out, Jinyoung,” you ordered. Your voice was very firm compared to how quickly your heart was racing right now. It was actually impressive.

Jinyoung quickly took a deep breath and then... just blurted it all out. “Dating has never been my top priority, and I just thought a relationship would take up too much time and distract me too much from my studies. Getting a position as a TA will really help me in the long run, so I didn’t want to jeopardize that chance by actually getting to know you and maybe falling for you so I just said I didn’t want to get to know you and acted like I wasn’t interested even though I kind of am.”

...You stared at him.

You blinked at him.

“So... you were an asshole from the beginning because you liked me?” you asked, doing absolutely nothing to hide your confusion.

Because you were confused.

Really confused.

“No -- no, I didn’t,” Jinyoung sighed, shifting around a bit awkwardly. “I mean, I was attracted to you from the moment I saw you, and I’m sorry I came off as an asshole that day. I wasn’t trying to be rude on purpose, honestly. I just thought I would tell you that I was probably going to get the position, and then you responded... kind of... rudely, so I was just feeding off you.”

“I wasn’t --!”

But then you stopped yourself because... if you remembered correctly (which you did because you’d gone over that conversation so many times in your head), you had been a little defensive about your impeccable work.

You could definitely see how someone could have interpreted that as being rude.

You let your shoulders slump as you leaned back against the bookshelf behind you, letting out a tired exhale. “...You’re right,” you said weakly.

“Things just kind of snowballed from there. You didn’t seem happy at all to see me in the coffee shop, so I tried not to bother you. And then when Teddy called me, I had already decided nothing was going to happen between us -- I didn’t need anything to happen between us because I need to focus on school, so I just... told him I wasn’t interested.”

You... truly couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

So, you needed to make sure of one thing.

“But you... are interested in me,” you stated. Because you needed to know!

Jinyoung let out a short breath of amusement before copying your position and leaning back against the bookshelf.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “But it’s all right. Like I said, I really shouldn’t get involved with anyone right now, so don’t feel bad that you’re not --”

“Oh, I am,” you interrupted before you could even really think about what you were saying.

Jinyoung choked a little on his words, and you pressed your lips together tightly to stop from saying anything else. And to stop yourself from letting out an awkward, nervous laugh.

“...You are?” he asked after a few moments.

You simply nodded, staring at your notebook in your lap. Because you knew if you looked over at him right now, there was a very high chance you would kiss him.

That was tempting, of course, but... now was not quite the right time.

“...Oh.” He was silent for a few moments, and then he inhaled sharply. “You -- you don’t hate me?”

A smile tugged at your lips, and you snuck a quick glance at him.

Man, was he cute when he was confused.

“I wanted to hate you,” you answered. “Trust me. But I’ve been thinking about you far too much to actually hate you. And... you’re far too good-looking for me to not be interested.”

Jinyoung just let out a soft chuckle, and you smirked down at your notebook.

What a mess this had been.

And now you felt extremely guilty for being so harsh on him -- not that he knew everything you’d said (and thought) about him, but you’d made it clear you didn’t like him.

The poor guy was just trying to live his university life!

A thought popped into your head then, and even though you didn’t like it... you knew it was probably the right thing to do. So, you took a deep breath and said it before you could change your mind.

“You can have it.”

“...Have what?” Jinyoung murmured.

“The TA position. You can have it.”

Jinyoung shifted around, and his knee fell to his side, coming perilously close to yours as you sat cross-legged next to him.

“Wha -- really?” he asked, sounding both confused and surprised.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying out ‘No, never mind!’

There was silence for a few moments, and you anticipated Jinyoung’s kickback, his insistence that you shouldn’t give up because you would be an excellent TA, too.

But when he did finally open his mouth again, he simply said, “Okay.”

Your brow furrowed, and you hastily whipped your head around to face him. “You’re just going to take it? Just like that?!”

“Well, yeah,” he replied with a smirk. “You’re giving it to me.”

“I know, but -- I mean, you’re supposed to convince me not to drop out so it can be a fair fight!”

“Why would I do that?” he chuckled.

“Because!” you grumbled, reaching out to (somewhat) gently punch his shoulder. “It’s polite --”

Jinyoung interrupted you by grabbing your wrist, tugging you closer to him, and before you knew it, your noses were almost touching.

“A fair fight?” he whispered, and even though you were too close to see his mouth, you could tell he was smirking. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that life isn’t fair?”

Boy, he was good. Throwing your own words back in your face!

“You really are insufferable, do you know that?” you murmured.

“I’ve been told.”

Even though you’d just thought now was not the right time, and even though he’d just said he didn’t want to get involved in a relationship, and even though you would probably regret it, and even though Teddy would become even more insufferable than Jinyoung if he ever found out...

You leaned in that extra inch and kissed him.

Jinyoung’s hand immediately cradled your cheek, his fingertips threading through your hair as his lips returned your kiss -- quite fervently, you might add.

Your mind was racing, yelling at you that you really shouldn’t be kissing him -- it was a bad idea, and you were going to get hurt if you kept this up... but you ignored it. You ignored yourself because you’d spent the past several days thinking of hardly anything else besides him, and it felt way too good to finally satiate your curiosity.

Plus, he was, like, a really good kisser.

You reached up, sliding your fingers over his arm and circling them around his wrist, holding his hand where it was as you leaned forward just a bit more. The feel his hand on your cheek, his fingers in your hair, his lips on yours was so incredibly satisfying, you wondered if you would ever --

A loud rap on the door interrupted your thoughts, and you jumped, your heart leaping into your throat as you pulled out of the kiss.

And then you heard the jingle of keys.

“What --” you stammered, whispering. “Who is --”

You scrambled away from Jinyoung just as the key unlocked the door, and when it opened...

“All right in here?” Professor Stewart asked as he stepped inside.

Jinyoung stood up quickly and answered for you. “Yes, sir -- is the lockdown over?”

“Oh, yes -- didn’t you get the alert?”

You stood up then, too, plastering a grin on your lips. “I guess we were just too caught up in researching,” you told him with a guilty chuckle. “Glad they caught the guy.”

“You’re telling me!” Professor Stewart chuckled. “He was heading into this area. We could’ve been hostages!”

Your eyebrows shot halfway up your forehead and you glanced at Jinyoung, trying (but not really trying) to hide a smug smirk.

“Is that so?” you asked. “Heading into this area? I wonder why he would’ve come toward the literature building of all places.”

You wished more than anything right now you could clearly see the look on Jinyoung’s face. Hopefully, it was one of utter embarrassment.

...Not that you wanted him to feel bad. You just liked being proven right. Surely, he could relate to that.

“Who knows how the mind of a criminal works?” Professor Stewart answered. “Anyway! How much more time do you need?”

You cleared your throat, taking another step forward and wringing your hands together nervously. “Actually, Professor, I... I’m stepping out. I realized my schedule for next semester won’t quite work. I apologize for wasting your time, and I’m truly thankful for the opportunity.”

You had been debating telling Professor Stewart the truth, but there was no way you could tell him you’d created a very awkward and uncomfortable situation (and that Jinyoung would probably do a better job than you). You had your pride, after all!

“Ah, that’s too bad,” Professor Stewart murmured. He shifted his gaze to Jinyoung as you bent to retrieve your notebook and backpack and said, “Well! Looks like you’ve got the job, my good sir.”

You excused yourself as quietly as you could, hearing Professor Stewart asking Jinyoung when he could come in and discuss the class schedule.

It wasn’t until you were halfway down the stairs when you realized you’d left things totally up in the air with Jinyoung.

It was obvious nothing was going to happen between the two of you, and... you honestly wondered if you would ever see him again.

Maybe it was just a kiss, and that’s all it would ever be. A kiss on the floor of the medieval literature library during a lockdown.

But, hey. At least it had been a good kiss.

Part 6

352 notes · View notes

much-brighter-ink · 3 years

Text

Secret Santa Queendom Exchange

Merry Christmas Eve! Enjoy your secret santa gift fic- since you said you were ok with anything, I went for a festive fic because I thought the queens experiencing modern christmas would be amusing (also my entire knowlege of Tudor Christmas tradition comes from a single Lucy Worsley documentary so apologies for any wrong details!)

‘Well that was a complete waste of time-’ Jane dropped her handbag and keys onto the kitchen table, scowling. ‘You would have thought I was asking for the moon from how he reacted!’

Anna hummed sympathetically and got up to put the kettle on to make Jane a soothing post-shopping-trip cup of green tea. ‘No good?’

‘I said, I told him, that I completely understood that he might not actually HAVE one in stock, especially on Christmas Eve, but that we’d all agreed to check just in case and-’ Jane pulled out a chair with slightly more force than was necessary and Anna leant forward.

‘What? What? He didn’t have one?’

‘He just laughed Anna!’ Jane’s annoyance softened into hurt. ‘He didn’t even answer, just laughed and then turned to the next person as if I was joking!’

‘Oh love-’

‘It was REALLy embarrassing AND then a lady stopped me before I could even LEAVE and asked why on earth I’d want to eat something like that…’

Anna put a comforting hand on Jane’s shoulder and put a mug of tea in front of her. ‘Well you shouldn’t be too upset then- the very fact that she had to ask shows she’s obviously got no taste at all.’

Jane chuckled weakly and took a sip of tea. ‘Thanks. It was just horrible- everyone looked at me like I was completely stupid.’

‘Well the others will be back soon, maybe they’ll have had more-’

Anna’s words were cut off by the bang of the front door and the sound of a pair of shoes being angrily kicked off.

‘Kitty? Is that you?’

‘I’m back.’ Kitty trudged into the kitchen and leant into Anna’s side. ‘Don’t ask how it went.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it was absolutely useless.’ Sinking into a chair, Kitty stared pathetically at Jane’s tea until Anna laughed and passed her a cup of her own. ‘No one could help and I got stuck listening to an hour long lecture about animal cruelty and The Law from some interferring old busybody that was passing!’ Kitty sighed heatedly. ‘Since when was it illegal to try and have some fun at Christmas?’

‘Weren’t you listening Kitty? If your lecture was anything like mine, it’s-’ Jane assumed a mincing tone. ‘-cruel the poor endangered boars. Or bears, in your case.’

Anna rolled her eyes. ‘God. Wiping them out globally is all fine and dandy then in the name of progress but kill one bear in a good old fashioned family bear-baiting to bring the community together and provide everyone with a bit of holiday cheer and you’re a monster…’

‘This century is so joyless.’

Jane nodded. ‘You’re telling me.’

Kitty turned anguished eyes upon her. ‘Don’t tell me you had no luck either!’

‘Sorry-’

‘Argh!’ Kitty let out a frustrated wail and let her head flop down onto her folded arms. ‘No bear baiting AND no boar’s head? It might as well not even BE Christmas…’

The others murmured disconsolate agreement just as Catalina burst through the backdoor wildly.

‘That had better be some ill-judged Protestant humour-’

Anna shook her head. ‘Sorry Catty.’

‘A tomar por culo! This is going to be the worst Christmas ever!’

Jane looked at her oddly. ‘Didn’t you die at Christmas?’

Catalina fixed a cold stare upon her former lady in waiting. ‘But at least I got to have one last Christmas dinner to keep my spirits up Jane!’

‘Fair point…’

‘Thank you Kitty.’

The silence fell on the kitchen, and then Anna suddenly looked up.

‘Where are Anne and Cathy? Shouldn’t they be back by now?’

Catalina looked up. ‘Didn’t they go with Kitty?’

Kitty shook her head. ‘I thought they’d gone with you-’

‘No-’

‘They probably just-’

‘I bet they-’

Their speculation was interrupted by the insistent buzzing of Catalina’s phone, accompanied by a rather tinny but still recognisable refrain-

‘Oh my god you have Anne’s song as your ringtone!’ Despite her earlier misery, Kitty now looked positively gleeful. ‘I can’t believe it, I KNEW you liked it really-’

‘It’s CATCHY-’ Catalina mumbled, as she half turned in her chair to hide her blush. Jane patted her arm sympathetically.

‘Catalina Trastamara de Aragon-’

‘Why does she always answer her phone like that?’

‘Leave her alone, as if Good Morrow, Bitches is any better-’

‘Madrina?’

At her goddaughters voice, Catalina flapped an arm at the others. ‘Shut up! It’s Cathy! -Are you alright querida?’

‘I’m fine.’ Cathy sounded rather hesitant. ‘Just- promise not to panic, ok?’

‘Cathy?’

‘Promise!’

‘Ok-’

‘…..We’re at the police station!’

‘What?!’

‘How!?’

There was a scuffle and Anne’s voice came on the line. ‘Hi! Look, before you get cross, absolutely NOT our fault ok?’

‘What did you do?’

‘We had no idea it’d go like this-’

‘What did you DO?’

‘It’s was Cathy’s idea!’

‘Anne!’

‘We just thought it’d be fun!’ Cathy wailed from the background. ‘We never got to do it back then but it always sounded so exciting-’

‘And Jane SAID we needed to make more of an effort with the neighbours!’

‘What did you DO?’

‘Well….and let me just remind you again that it was CATHY’S idea, seeing as it IS Christmas Eve…’

‘Anne-’

‘Turns out people get REALLY weird when you cover your face and burst into their house in disguise-’

To the queen’s disgust, it turned out that the jolly Tudor practise of Mumming was, in the 21st century, considered to be highly suspicious and also in contravenence of the law.

A quick and grovelling conversation with the neighbour who had called the police (plus a promise of free yard work and snow shovelling for the foreseeable future) saw the two errant queens released and sent home with the stern warning not to try anything like that again.

Jane entered the living room where the five rather dejected queens sat in gloomy silence in the living room. ‘So they’ve agreed they won’t press charges and I THINK they’re going to keep quiet about it so that’s sorted at least.’

‘Thanks Jane-’ Cathy made room for the third queen on the sofa and Jane joined her.

‘What are we watching?’

‘Anna suggested we try a modern Christmas film to try and get into the spirit-’

‘Oh?’

Kitty made a face. ‘It’s about a demon who goes around sneaking into the houses of children before Christmas day…’

‘Oh. Weird.’

‘Yeah not very cheering…’

‘Speaking of which, where IS Anna?’

‘Oh she said she had a surprise to cheer us all up-’

Cathy hugged a cushion to her chest. ‘Honestly, I can’t think of ANYTHING that will make today ANY-’

She was interrupted by Anna- Anna von Kleve, dressed in an oversized red hoody with Trust No Bitch emblazoned on it in gold sequins and bearing what looked to be Jane’s best Le Creuset mixing bowl, filled to the brim with-

‘Is that….what IS that?’

‘Mmmm….vodka….and the gin that was left over…and about a half cup of cooking sherry….’ Anna looked up defensively. ‘What? I know the wassail cup is MEANT to be cider but we didn’t have enough to fill the bowl!’

‘I suppose that’s fair enough-’

Catalina reached for the bowl and took a swig. ‘At least that’s one tradition they can’t take away from us. Even if we’re the only ones to do it anymore…’

‘They can take our boar and our bear and our mummers but they’ll pry our wassail cup out of our cold dead hands!’

‘Yep’ Anne nodded decisely. ‘It can still be a BIT like Christmas IF we can all drink alcohol out of a massive bowl….’

The other queens nodded, looking slightly cheered.

Needless to say, the Boxing Day performance had to be cancelled.

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

Ahhhh @cynicalrainbows thank you so, so much!!! This made my day, I love your writing so much - have a wonderful Christmas Eve! @queendomsecretsanta

#secret santa gift exchange #six the musical #alcohol tw #submission

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camillemontespan · 3 years

Text

wine & fire [12 days of fictmas]

Here is my submission for 12 Days of Fictmas! This isn’t the most typical festive fic..

I was inspired by the film Two Night Stand :)

Warnings: NSFW.

Starts like a romcom. Turns into NSFW.

12 Days of Fictmas Tag list

Writers : @texaskitten30 @leelee10898 @emichelle @zaffrenotes @alj4890 @burnsoslow @kat-tia801 @darley1101 @msjr0119 @annekebbphotography @god-save-the-keen @plumeriavibes @ofpixelsandscribbles @camillemontespan @ao719 @cocomaxley @cordoniansgonewild @twinkleallnight @the-soot-sprite @cordoniantrash @axwalker @innerpostmentality @lucy-268 @janezillow @katedrakeohd

Readers : @mom2000aggie @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @debramcg1106 @desireepow-1986 @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject

My tag list: @ibldw-main @moonlightgem7 @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @saivilo @rainbowsinthestorm @pug-bitch @gardeningourmet @sirbeepsalot

*******************************

‘Merry Christmas, Cordonia! Best to stay inside and open presents while curled up by the fire as today’s weather forecast has calculated a snowstorm - yes, you heard that right- a SNOWSTORM with gales and hail! This is not exactly the perfect White Christmas we were hoping for! Please stay safe and stay indoors-’

Still half asleep, Olivia slammed the OFF button on her radio and snuggled deeper into her blankets. She stretched out her legs, enjoying the warmth of her bed and the space she had all to herself.

Until her foot hit something hard, prompting someone to shout out loud.

‘OW!’

Olivia bolted up, simultaneously grabbing the dagger that she kept under her pillow, before turning to find the source of the noise.

There was a man in her bed.

And not just any man.

Leo.

Fucking Leo.

*************

The memory of last night came flooding back. Olivia remembered there had been red wine. A lot of red wine. Drake and Camille had thrown a Christmas Eve supper at Valtoria Manor for their friends - Maxwell, Hana, Liam, Aurelia, Leo and herself. Once dinner had been eaten, priorities turned to drinking, dancing and playing board games. Olivia’s priority remained on the bottles of red wine she had brought and slowly, hazily, she had become more social and had found herself in the kitchen drinking wine with Leo.

They had gone back to Olivia’s together.

Olivia did NOT remember their time in bed - thank God- and she casually thought that Leo must be shit in the bedroom if she couldn’t remember bumping uglies. But she knew they had because here he was, in her bed, and she was naked.

‘Leo, get the fuck out of my bed,’ she greeted him sharply. ‘Now.’

Leo scowled at her as he rubbed his leg that had now developed a pink bruise from Olivia’s foot. Shame. She had hoped he would have been more injured. She must try harder next time.

‘Merry Christmas to you too, Liv,’ he muttered, clambering out of her bed. Olivia averted her eyes but she still caught a glimpse of his toned ass. What a lovely image for her poor retinas.

Quickly, Leo got dressed, throwing on a forest green knit sweater and dark blue jeans. The green of his sweater only emphasised his golden skin and the green of his eyes. Olivia bit the inside of her cheek.

‘So, how are you spending today?’ Leo asked, rubbing his hands through his blonde hair. ‘Torturing a prisoner? Throwing knives at your servants? Thinking about our liaison last night? I know what I’ll be doing and FYI, it’s not the first two options.’

Without warning, Olivia threw her dagger at Leo, who ducked down just in time to see the weapon hit the wall behind him.

‘LIV!’ he shouted, his voice breaking slightly due to his shock. ‘What the hell?!’

To say that Leo and Olivia weren’t friends was an understatement.

The issue was that Leo, for the most part, did try to get along with her. Hell, he even flirted with her a little bit. Leo got along with everyone and always wanted to be well liked - years of being in the public eye had influenced the way he viewed his identity. So when Olivia made it clear that she didn’t like him, Leo tried to win her over, again and again. But they weren’t friends. They were acquaintances through Leo’s brother, Liam, and Olivia wished that her drunken self hadn’t hopped into bed with him.

She didn’t like Leo because of two things. One: he treated women like they were objects. Two: he had abandoned his country and his brother when he suddenly announced his abdication from the Cordonian throne. Liam had been a deer caught in the head lights when Leo had suddenly blurted out at breakfast that he wasn’t going to be King anymore. And so, he ran away with his tail between his legs, like a coward, leaving Liam to pick up the pieces. Olivia would never forgive him for that.

So how had she ended up in his bed?

Olivia swore to herself that she would stop drinking wine. She didn’t want to give up drinking wine but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. For the greater good.

‘Do you have coffee in this fortress of solitude?’ Leo asked once he had recovered from his near death experience.

Olivia scowled at him. ‘No way,’ she said. ‘You are not having coffee here. You are leaving.’

‘But it’s Christmas!’ Leo tried to persuade her. ‘A time of goodwill and peace to all men!’

Olivia wrapped the duvet around her as she clambered out of bed to pull on her dressing gown. She could feel Leo’s eyes on her as she tried her best not to show him more of her body. Finally decent, Olivia opened the bedroom door and grabbed Leo by the collar.

Leo chuckled. ‘Ready for round two?’ he teased.

‘Go home, Leo!’ she cried, pulling him out of the room. With sheer strength, Olivia pulled him downstairs to the front door and threw the door open.

She couldn’t see the courtyard or the vast mountains of Lythikos. She couldn’t see anything except white.

*******************

Leo cleared his throat. ‘Am I fuck going out in that,’ he simply stated.

Olivia’s jaw clenched as she surveyed the situation. The ground was covered in three foot snow. The wind was howling and snow was still falling from the sky. Olivia knew that she would be able to navigate the harsh terrain; she was from Lythikos after all. But Leo? Not so much. He would probably set one foot on the ground and scream that he was going to die from frostbite.

Olivia checked the weather report on her phone. All guidance said to stay safe and stay home; all of Cordonia was hit by this snowstorm.

‘Fucking hell..’ Olivia muttered.

She felt Leo sidle closer to her and her body stiffened.

‘So… coffee?’ he asked, his voice lilting in her ear, teasing and mocking her.

*******************

Leo curled himself up in the corner of Olivia’s red sofa with his feet tucked under himself. He held a mug of steaming coffee in his hand and he looked very pleased with himself.

Olivia wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Why do you look so smug?’ she asked him. ‘I thought that after a one night stand you would escape at your earliest convenience.’

Leo pretended to be offended. ‘What on earth made you think that?’ he asked, widening his eyes.

‘Kiara told me,’ Olivia said dryly.

Leo chuckled. ‘Ah, Kiki..’ he murmured. ‘Good times.’

Olivia shuddered. Edging further away from Leo as she could, she turned on the TV so they could watch for updates on the weather. The sooner the snowstorm cleared, she thought, the sooner this walking human STI would leave her home.

But the updates weren’t hopeful.

‘Looks like I’m here all day!’ Leo crowed. ‘Shall we exchange presents?’

Olivia sighed. ‘Seriously, why are you so happy?’

Leo gave her a lazy smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. ‘I quite like watching you all riled up,’ he told her. ‘It’s fun pissing you off.’

‘You fucker-’

‘God, you really do rise to the bait, don’t you!’ Leo laughed, shaking his head. ‘Jesus, Liv, you gotta learn to loosen up. Relax. Release the tension from your shoulders, inhale, exhale, breathe…’

Olivia stared at him coldly. ‘Didn’t know I was dealing with Gandhi,’ she said.

Leo shrugged. ‘I’m just a chill person,’ he told her. ‘You could learn a lot from me.’

Olivia turned the volume of the TV up higher to drown out Leo’s voice.

***********************

‘Okay, let’s call a truce,’ Leo said after he finished his coffee. ‘I promise to stop being an asshole if you promise not to kill me with a dagger. The way I see it, as we’re stuck together for the foreseeable future until this storm clears, we may as well try and get along. It’s Christmas. Let’s do Christmassy shit. What do you do for Christmas?’

Olivia sighed. ‘I’m not telling you.’

‘Are you like the Grinch?’ Leo asked. ‘Or Scrooge?’ He raised his head up to the ceiling and adopted a dramatic tone as he quoted A Christmas Carol. ‘If he's like to die, he better do it and decrease the surplus population!’

Olivia threw a velvet cushion at him. ‘Shut up, I love Christmas!’ she cried.

Leo blinked. ‘You do?’

Olivia nodded furiously. ‘Yes. I adore Christmas,’ she said. ‘I know it’s not expected of me but this is the time of year where I can just embrace the cheesiness, the schmaltz and the festivities. Lythikos always throws a festival and it’s been the highlight of my year ever since I was a kid.’

A slow smile creeped up on Leo’s face. Olivia turned away, refusing to look at him. But Leo couldn’t stop looking at her. She had surprised him. Leo liked that.

**********************

Olivia made the decision to go about her day as if Leo wasn’t there, Leo-ing it up. She loved Christmas. She wanted to have a festive day and damn it, she was going to do it. Without a word, she left the living room to go to her dressing room where she rifled through her wardrobe for her Christmas outfit.

She had bought the red silk dress specially. The neckline was low, accentuating her cleavage which she emphasised with a long emerald pendant that settled comfortably between her breasts. Gently sliding the dress over her head, she felt the cool silk cover her ivory skin. Carefully, she slipped on a pair of black stilettos and made her way to her dressing table to fix her hair and makeup. Giving herself the once over, she smiled. The dress was perfect.

Next, she went downstairs to the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of champagne - because you always had to drink champagne at Christmas- and strutted back through to the living room where her unwelcome guest was sitting watching the weather report on TV.

He looked up when he heard her stilettos against the floor. His eyes widened as he took her in.

‘Woah..’ he breathed. ‘You look..’

Olivia tossed her champagne down her throat. ‘I know,’ she said, her voice cool. ‘I look awesome.’

Leo swallowed. ‘I was gonna say beautiful.’

Olivia blinked in surprise. She felt a blush creep up on her cheeks; quickly, she finished her champagne to distract herself.

************************************

Leo eyed Olivia’s second glass of champagne. He didn’t want to be an annoying guest but he was feeling rather thirsty..

Olivia sighed, aware of Leo’s gaze that was fixed on her glass. ‘God, fine. Do you want a glass of champagne?’

Leo grinned wolfishly. ‘Yes please.’

Olivia dragged herself up from the sofa and traipsed to the kitchen with Leo following her.

‘You’re like a puppy,’ Olivia said. ‘Following me around like this.’

‘You’re getting me alcohol,’ Leo replied dryly. ‘Excuse me for being excited.’

Olivia rolled her eyes but Leo caught the glimpse of a smile on her lips as she opened the fridge to retrieve the bottle. He leaned against the counter and watched as Olivia poured him a glass and passed him it.

‘There,’ she said. ‘Don’t say I never give you anything.’

Leo chuckled and raised his glass in a toast. ‘Merry Christmas, Liv,’ he said.

Olivia clinked her glass against his. Their eyes met; forest green looking into ice blue. Desperate to cut the tension, Olivia sipped her drink, tearing her eyes away from his.

Leo reached out. Startled, Olivia grabbed him by the wrist. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

He smiled softly. ‘You have a drop of champagne on your lips,’ he told her. ‘I was gonna wipe it away for you.’

Olivia watched him in mute shock as he continued to reach out. His fingertip touched her bottom lip, wiping away the champagne. With a twinkle in his eye, Leo placed his fingertip in his mouth and licked, not once taking his eyes off Olivia.

She could feel the heat in the pit of her stomach that was slowly engulfing her core. Memories of the night before were now flooding her mind; she was remembering. Leo’s hot kisses against her skin. His hands clasping hers above her head, holding her down as he ravaged her. He had been an animal and Olivia had liked it.

‘You’re unbelievable,’ she croaked, breaking the silence.

Leo smiled his lazy smile. ‘You enjoy me.’

‘No I don’t.’

Leo’s eyes bore into hers. It was as if he had taken up the entire room. All Olivia was aware of was him, how close he was to her, how green his eyes were, how gold his skin was, how expensive he smelled.

‘You sure about that, trouble?’ he asked.

Olivia slammed her glass down onto the kitchen counter. Before Leo could react, Olivia threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him down so their lips crashed together.

She could blame this on the champagne. But Olivia wasn’t a lightweight and she knew that this was something more than alcohol that was making her do this. Fire burst through her veins like adrenaline as she pulled Leo close, admitting through her actions that the attraction for him was there.

Because Olivia had been the one to initiate things last night. She had kissed him first. She was the one who invited him home for a nightcap. It had always been Olivia.

Why?

Maybe because Leo was the only man who made her feel like he really saw her. While most men were terrified of Olivia, Leo was not. He saw through her harsh exterior, as harsh as the snow and ice of Lythikos, and he saw the girl behind the wall.

He knew how deeply his brother had hurt her. He knew how hard Olivia tried to push her feelings down as a result. Even though Leo liked to press her buttons, he knew which ones to avoid. For some reason, he understood Olivia more than anyone else.

Olivia could let her guard down and Leo wouldn’t recoil. Because he knew he wasn’t perfect either. But everyone expected Olivia to be this perfect block of ice carved into human form and Leo knew that that wasn’t Olivia. She may bear the Nevrakis name but she was so much more than her ancestor’s legacy. She was human.

She felt his hands rake through her red hair and the involuntary butterflies that were flying in her stomach.

No. She couldn’t act like this with Leo of all people. She made that mistake last night and she wasn’t prepared to do it again. Quickly, she wrenched away from him.

Leo was blinking at her, his lips swollen from kissing.

‘..Liv?’

Olivia closed her eyes and gently pushed Leo away.

‘The servants need to continue preparing dinner,’ she croaked.

She spun on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen, cursing herself for being stupid. She really ought to check for weather updates.

Leo watched her go, his eyes wide as he tried to process what had just happened. Without a word, he reached out for the bottle of champagne, his hands shaking, and he took a deep gulp, not even bothering to pour himself a glass.

Olivia did things to him. She made him.. Different. Sure, he was still a flirt but he found that he craved her attention. He wanted to make her smile. He wanted to feel like the only one who could elicit that rare reaction from her. But why?

As the champagne bubbles exploded in his mouth, Leo knew why. Because Olivia was different from all of the others. She was on another level. She made Leo’s heart beat a little faster. She made him nervous. And Leo liked it.

**********************

With the snow storm still blowing outside, Olivia resigned herself to spending Christmas with Leo.

Olivia let him eat as much turkey as he wanted to stop him from teasing her about their kissing in the kitchen. As long as Leo ate, the more silent and preoccupied he was. Handling him was like handling a toddler sometimes.

Leo was just surprised that Olivia let him eat.

After dinner, they retired to the drawing room.

Olivia’s favourite place in her home was the drawing room. It was a room off the foyer where a grand marble fireplace stood pride of place against the back wall. A red velvet chaise lounge stood in front of the fireplace where velvet cushions and blankets were scattered across it. Candles were always lit in the drawing room, casting the walls in a golden glow.

Leo sat down on one side of the chaise lounge and watched Olivia as she made her way across the room to an oak cupboard. She opened the doors to unveil a vast collection of red wine.

‘What shall we drink?’ Olivia mused. ‘I think the Chateau Latour..’

Leo shrugged. ‘It’s alcohol, I genuinely don’t mind.’

Olivia rolled her eyes and selected a bottle. Taking two wine glasses out of another cupboard, she poured the wine and handed Leo a glass.

Leo grinned and was ready to toss the drink down his throat. Her eyes widening in alarm, Olivia reached out to grab his wrist before he could do so.

‘No!’ she shouted.

Leo blinked. ‘You offered me a drink, I’m going to drink-’

‘You need to appreciate it!’ Olivia scolded. ‘It’s fine wine!’

Leo sighed. ‘Liv, don’t be so fucking pretentious.’

‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘But you’re in Lythikos and we love our wine. Please respect our traditions and appreciate the wine we offer you.’

Leo rolled his eyes but he waited for Olivia to calm down. Once she was calmer, he waited for her instruction.

‘First, you look at the wine,’ Olivia said in a silky smooth voice. ‘Note the deep burgundy colour of the wine.’

Leo studied the wine. Almost like she was confessing a secret, Olivia spoke in low tones. ‘Now, you smell the wine. Do you smell the blackberry notes? And the sweet vanilla that offsets the harshness?’

Leo could smell the blackberry and the vanilla. His senses were heightened. He could smell the fruit of the wine and he could smell the musk of Olivia’s perfume as she sat closer to him to speak. Her knee touched his.

‘Now, we taste,’ Olivia whispered. ‘Focus on the texture. Our tongues will sense the texture of the wine.’

Leo felt his throat tighten. Now he was just thinking about Olivia’s tongue. As if she could read his thoughts, Olivia’s eyes looked into his above the rim of her wine glass. Together, they sipped their wine, not once tearing their eyes away from each other.

‘This is good wine,’ Leo croaked.

Olivia leaned forward to place her wine glass on the side table. ‘That’s because I have good taste,’ she told him.

Leo smirked. ‘You do, don’t you?’

Olivia stood up and wandered towards the fireplace, reaching out to adjust the clock on the mantle. The fire lit up her body, the flames illuminating the silk of her dress. Leo swallowed and set his glass down, standing to join Olivia at the fireplace.

They both looked down into the fire, the flames mirrored in their eyes. They were standing so close to each other; achingly close. Tentatively, Leo reached out to graze Olivia’s pinkie with his own. He heard her let out a breath.

‘Leo..’ she murmured, keeping her eyes on the fire.

Without a word, Leo wrapped his hand around her wrist and gently pulled her towards him. Her blue eyes met his. Her porcelain skin was turning golden from the fire and her red hair was glowing. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful.

Leo leaned down and cupped her face in his hands. Olivia leaned up voluntarily and their lips brushed.

He could feel the softness of her skin under his palms. As the kiss deepened, Leo’s hands wandered down her back, gripping hold of the silk of her dress. He could taste wine on Olivia’s tongue.

‘Jesus Christ..’ he groaned against her mouth. He felt a smile curl around Olivia’s lips. Encouraged, Leo kissed her deeper.

Things changed when Olivia’s teeth tugged on his lower lip.

Leo loved biting.

The pace quickened. Hands travelled over skin and under clothes; Olivia’s hands rested under his shirt, placed on his broad chest, feeling his warm skin. Leo pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his torso. Olivia’s lips kissed his collarbone, her hands fluttering across his chest and hard stomach. Leo let out another groan and pulled at the zip on the back of her dress.

The dress pooled down to the floor around Olivia’s feet.

Leo stepped back to study Olivia for a long, heated moment.�� She stood clad in red lace lingerie. She looked like a phoenix rising from the embers. She looked like fire itself.

‘Fucking hell, you’re beautiful,’ he whispered.

Olivia raised her chin defiantly, straightening her posture so she looked more powerful than usual.

‘Take off your pants,’ she ordered.

Leo didn’t need to be told twice. Quickly, he unbuckled his belt and pulled off his jeans along with his boxers. He was now completely naked in front of her.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. Leo watched her as she unclipped her bra, not once taking her eyes off him. Her fingers hooked through the delicate string of her lace thong and her eyes remained fixed on his as she pulled the thong down to the floor.

She stepped towards him.

Leo grabbed her, not caring that his fingers dug into her arms that would probably leave bruises. He had a feeling that Olivia liked to be left branded.

‘Fuck me,’ she whispered in his ear.

Leo pulled her down to the floor.

*********************************

Teeth grazed warm skin. Hands clasped together. Legs intertwined. Hard kisses left lips swollen. Fingernails cut scratches into skin. Perfume and cologne mixed together. Porcelain pressed against gold.

Olivia and Leo had become fire.

*********************************

‘What’s your favourite Christmas movie?’ Leo asked afterwards, twirling a coil of Olivia’s hair around his finger. They were lying on the floor with Olivia curled into Leo, her breath warm against his neck.

Olivia considered the question. ‘Well…’

Leo grinned. ‘Is it Die Hard? Oh my god, please say it is. It would make so much sense with your violent tendencies.’

Olivia laughed harshly. ‘Oh Leo, you have no idea,’ she said. ‘Die Hard is not the most violent Christmas film. But you are right that my favourite Christmas film is partly due to my violent tendencies.’

Leo’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think of the film she meant. Olivia watched him, a smug smile on her face.

Leo’s eyes lit up with his realisation. ‘Oh my god..’ he said. ‘No way! No fucking way! Home Alone is your favourite Christmas film?!’

Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘Merry Christmas ya filthy animal,’ she said, making Leo cackle with joy.

‘What’s your favourite Christmas movie?’ Olivia asked. ‘Are you gonna be the typical male cliche and say it’s Die Hard?’

Leo chuckled warmly. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘I won’t be a cliche. It’s a great movie, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not even in my Top 3.’

Olivia frowned. ‘So what’s your favourite?’

Leo eyed her. ‘You’ll judge me.’

‘I judge you anyway.’

Leo rolled his eyes. ‘Gah, fine,’ he said. ‘Don’t tell anyone, okay?’

‘Leo..’

He adjusted his body so he was facing her and extended his pinkie. ‘Pinkie promise me,’ he whispered.

Olivia curled her lip in disgust. ‘Leo, I’m not four.’

‘Liv, do you want to know or not?’

Olivia groaned. ‘Fine.’

They pinkie swore. Satisfied, Leo sat back and studied her for a long moment before speaking.

‘I fucking love The Holiday.’

*******************

After Leo’s revelation that his favourite Christmas film was The Holiday, Olivia had screamed with laughter.

‘There’s nothing wrong with a guy liking The Holiday!’ Leo protested.

‘Oh, I know,’ Olivia said. ‘But it’s comical that it happens to be your favourite Christmas film. It’s so… romantic. And nauseating. And sugary.’

Leo sighed. ‘Precisely,’ he said. His body stiffened.

Olivia blinked. Sensing she had hit a nerve, she eyed Leo.

‘Alright, what’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Don’t give me bullshit.’

Leo turned to look at her.

‘Why is Home Alone your favourite Christmas film?’

Olivia bit her fingernail, a habit she had when she was nervous. But this was Leo, she shouldn’t be nervous. As she thought about her feelings, she realised it was the question that made her nervous.

‘It’s about a kid who protects his home with all the weapons at his disposal,’ she said, her voice cool, as she examined her bitten fingernail. ‘He’s a badass who shows those burglars who’s boss and he protects himself. He was brave.’

Leo studied her for a long time in silence. Olivia could feel her cheeks begin to burn.

‘You’re Kevin McAllister,’ Leo said softly.

Olivia’s eyes widened. ‘Fuck, no!’ she replied. ‘You’re reading too much into this-’

‘You didn’t have your parents,’ Leo said. ‘You lived alone with servants. You had to learn how to fight and defend your home without protection of adults. Christmas is your favourite time of year but with no family there to celebrate, you turned to this film because you see yourself in Kevin.’

Olivia looked up at the ceiling, refusing to look at him. ‘Leo, stop it.’

‘I’m right though,’ he said, his voice low.

Olivia let out a frustrated sigh and sat up, gathering a blanket around her body. ‘Fine, let’s put you under the microscope,’ she said. ‘You like The Holiday because it shows you the kind of Christmas you could have if you let yourself fall in love. You could have that cosy cottage with a woman who looks like Cameron fucking Diaz. You could stop being an asshole to women and let down your fucking walls so that someone can see the real you.’

Leo laughed without humour. ‘And who is the real me?’

Olivia raised her chin. You are a man who is known to be such a manwhore but you actually have romantic feelings. You act like an unfeeling robot most of the time but really, you are sensitive and perceptive. If given the chance, you will worship the woman you are with because it’s the one time you can let his guard down. You can blame it on alcohol or the heat of the moment, but really, Leo, you like to be yourself in the dark. You enjoy being with someone because at least it means that for one night you’re not alone. You take all the passion within you and you let it all out. That is why you have such a long and successful track record with women, why you are popular with them. You make them feel things. You worship them.’

‘Are you saying I worshipped you?’ Leo asked cooly.

Olivia smirked. ‘Are you saying you didn’t?’

Leo looked down. Olivia raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to respond. Leo rolled his eyes and leaned back on his arms, stretching out his body.

‘Fine, you got me,’ he murmured, giving her a small smile. ‘I worshipped you.’

The flames from the fire reflected in Olivia’s eyes as she studied him. Gently, she let the blanket she was holding around her naked body fall to the floor so she was exposed to Leo again.

‘Worship me again,’ she said, her voice thick.

Leo reached out to cup her chin in his hand. His lips brushed hers delicately, making her skin bloom with goosebumps.

‘With pleasure,’ he murmured, gently tugging on her lower lip with his teeth.

Olivia pulled him down onto her so his body was suspended over hers. The flames of the fire cast her in its glow, lighting up her porcelain skin, lighting up Leo’s gold.

The weather continued to turn Cordonia into a world of ice and snow. But Olivia and Leo were unaffected. The fire burned all night as Leo worshipped Olivia again and again.

#12 days of fictmas #choices 12 days of fictmas

47 notes · View notes

bssaz97 · 4 years

Text

Rowan’s Trip To Beacon (...Sorta) #2

-Beacon Academy (Volume 2 Time)-

Rowan: So do you all believe me when I say that I’m Ruby and Jaune’s future son?

Ren: Well given how you have been able to back up all of your claims, I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t trust you.

Weiss: I’ll have to agree. Despite the complexity of it all...what you’ve said so far is true.

Rowan: Great! Now could we go see Headmistress Goodwitch?

Blake: Actually that’s something I want to ask you about. Why do you want to speak to Goodwitch of all people? Wouldn’t you want to speak to Headmaster Ozpin?

Rowan: Yeeeeeaaaah no. I don’t personally have anything against the headmaster but he may try to, well, interrogate me.

Yang: ....And you think Goodwitch won’t?

Rowan: Don’t worry it’ll be fine. I know Miss Goodwitch, she’s one of the nicest people out there. *innocently smiles*

RWBYJNPR: .....

Nora: Are you sure about that?

Rowan: Yep. In fact here she comes right now. *points behind them*

The two teams look behind them and to their horror they do in fact see Professor Goodwitch walking straight towards them. Her expression was anything but welcoming though.

Rowan: Welp. We should probably go see if we can talk to her- Whoa!

Yang grabs the young boy and throws him into a bush hedge to avoid detection from the absolute livid Headmistress. She wasn’t sure why she did that, perhaps it was her familial instinct kicking in. Also they would have an easier time explaining ‘how their leaders destroyed the courtyard’ instead of ‘how their leaders destroyed the courtyard AND transported their future son to the present.’ It felt weird to think how Ruby managed to get married and have children before her, was SHE even married in Rowan’s time? Questions for later, right now they had to face the “Wicked Witch of Beacon”.

Glynda: *stops in front of them* Mr. Arc and Miss Rose, why am I not surprised by the fact that both of your teams are present at the scene of disaster?Perhaps you could care to explain what transpired in the time between now and the sound of a Bomb exploding the main courtyard! *She exclaimed irritably*

Ruby: Um...w-well...you see...w-what happened was-*figets under Goodwitch’s gaze*

Jaune: It’s my fault Professor! I was showing Ruby an experiment that I made in Dust Studies but it got out of hand. I’m really sorry!

Ruby: Wha-? Jaune what are you doing?! *whispers*

Jaune: Do you really want Goodwitch to know you snuck a possible bomb to Beacon? *whispers*

Ruby: No but I don’t want you to take all the blame! *whispers*

Jaune: Just trying to be a good friend. *whispers*

Goodwitch: You students should know, whispering is more effective when the person you are whispering about can’t hear you. *leans in*

Ruby/Jaune: .....crud.

WBYNPR: *facepalm*

Glynda: Well then, since Mr. Arc admitted to both of your involvement in all of this, I believe it’s only fair that you share in the consequences as well Miss Rose. Your honesty is much appreciated Mr. Arc.

Ruby: Yeah. Thanks Jaune. *sarcastically*

Jaune: Sorry. *hangs head*

Glynda: Now about your punishment. I believe since this is all your doing, you two will spend the remainder of this semester in detention. Along with this, you will have to write ten thousand word essay on the dangers of Dust misusage and why students should not think of it as toys. The essay shall be hand written, work cited by the library, and then turned into me personally during my office hours before the end of the month. Also this will be apart of both of your grades in my class. Am I to be understood?

Ruby/Jaune: Yes mam...

Glynda: Good. Now then you both should get started soon, as there are only two weeks left in the-

Rowan: Hello! *popping from out of the bushes*

Glynda: Good Gods! I mean-‘cough’ Can I help you?

Rowan: Actually you can. You see I was taking a tour with my dad who works as a janitor here but I lost track of him. Could you help me call him for me please? *takes out his scroll with his best innocent face*

Glynda: ...I suppose I don’t see any harm in it. Although I should let you know that your father will have a stern talking with me about leaving children unattended at this school. Also that taking ‘tours’ without my or the Headmaster’s consent is highly frowned upon.

Goodwitch takes Rowan’s scroll, when she takes a look at the device she gains a confused face.

Glynda: Strange... I wasn’t made aware that they were making new models for Scrolls.

Rowan: Actually this a prototype I won in a contest. I’m supposed to be beta testing this one before they announce the new models later on.

Glynda: Oh I see. *nods* Although could you tell me how to select the Call function, this new design is very... foreign to me.

Rowan: Sure thing. *Gets it front of her and puts on some shades* Just hold down that red icon and let go after three seconds.

Glynda: Thank you. You’re quite a polite young man if I do say so-

*FLASH! (Neuralizer Sound FX)*

Both teams saw that a bright light flashed in Professor Goodwitch’s face, and now she had a blank expression on her face. Rowan then takes off his shades to pockets them and then gently takes the scroll from her grasp.

Rowan: Boy that was crazy Miss Goodwitch! We just got done doing a late class experiment outside in the courtyard but things sorta got out of control when a fault box of SDC Dust was sent to the school. Luckily nobody was hurt so that’s a plus... but not so much for the courtyard. Although you’re just happy nobody was hurt and remember I’m a visiting student that won a contest to tour the school for the weekend and teams RWBY and JNPR are assigned to look after me. Also there’s no homework or for the weekend.

Glynda: *blinks* ....oh. Yes of course the contest I do recall. I apologize you had to experience that Rowan, our dust shipments are usually more careful about this. Mr. Arc, Miss Rose could you please escort this young man back to the dormitories, I believe we’ve had enough excitement for today.

Ruby: .....Uh ok? *looks confusedly at Goodwitch*

Jaune: Yeah Rowan...let’s get back to the dorms. *starts walking back towards the campus*

Weiss: Wait a minute. What about their essay?

Glynda: Essay? Miss Schnee, I understand your desire for academic success but I have not assigned any homework for this weekend. You all should take time to make preparation for the Vtyal Festival coming up instead of focusing so much on your grades. *she chastised*

Yang: Yeah Weiss-cream let’s back to the dorm so we can get ready for the weekend! *places her hand on Weiss’ mouth and pushes her forward*

Weiss: Mmphf!

-Team RWBY’s Dorm-

Ruby: What the heck did you do to Miss Goodwitch?!

Yang: Yeah one second she’s turning Rubes and Vomit Boy’s into chop liver and the next she leaves them off scot-free?

Weiss: Now she believes your some tourist at the school.

Rowan: Yeah I kinda figured you all wanted an explanation for that. Well to put it simply, I erased a portion of her memory.

Blake: You erased her memory?!

Rowan: Not all of it... just the last 25 minutes to be exact. More than enough time to cover over the incident that Mom and Dad caused and give her a new one to fill in the gap. So now Goodwitch is not mad at you guys, Mom and Dad don’t have write an essay and I can roam around without a second thought.

Weiss: .....you know I’m actually starting to believe that you have spent time with my brother.

Rowan: Ok to be fair it was Mr. Whitley’s idea to add the neuralyzer to my scroll. I didn’t consent or anything, just said if I was ever in a fix to use it sparingly. Plus I only can use it three times to per day otherwise it has to recharge.

Pyrrha: And you’re completely ok with erasing a poor woman’s memory?

Rowan: Not really, I try to avoid using it if I can but I kinda wanted to help Mom and Dad out of a tough situation. But you don’t have worry about that, she’ll be fine. The neuralyzer doesn’t cause any lasting damage..... I think.

RWBYJNPR: .....

Rowan: But in any case, I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future, or at least until someone from my time tethers me back. So in the meantime we should probably spend some time to relax and hang out. *lays down on Weiss’ bed*

Yang: I’m starting to like this kid.

Jaune: But before we do anything, there’s something we should probably establish before we have you go walking around. First, you should keep the part about being our kid a secret.

Rowan: Ok. Sounds like a good idea Dad. *nods*

Jaune: Also, you should probably stop calling us ‘Mom’and ‘Dad’. It’s gonna lead to a lot of weird questions.

Rowan: Ohhhh yeah, you’re probably right. Ok, anything else.

Jaune: Yeah the less we know about our future, the better. So nobody, and I mean EVERYONE in this room, should ask you serious questions about the future.

Rowan: *nods* Yeah I don’t wanna pull a Back to the Future and blip out of existence.

Ruby: Wait you know what Back to the Future is?

Rowan: Yep. You and Auntie Yang made it a point to watch Classic Movies when me and Summer grew up.

Ruby: ...who?

Rowan: Oh right I didn’t say. My sister’s name is Summer P- Rose 2nd. You named her after grandma.

Ruby: I.....wow. That’s...I don’t know what to say.

Rowan: *raises his hands* It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything yet. You still have A LOT of time before you even think about stuff like that.

Jaune: Ok you see this? *points at both of them* This is what I’m talking about. None of this ok, we don’t want to make anything more weird than it needs to be.

Rowan: Ok so keep my mouth shut. Got it! *gives a thumbs up*

Blake: Do you mind if I do ask something real quick?

Jaune: Wha-? Blake, we just established no asking about our future!

Blake: This isn’t a personal question. I don’t need to have my future told to me.

Jaune: ‘sigh’ Fine. Ask away.

Blake: Rowan, do the White Fang ever succeed in their mission of invading Vale?

RWY: BLAKE!

Jaune: The hell?! That’s not any better!

Blake: You said to not ask personal questions. This is a situational question, therefore it won’t effect my personal life. So Rowan, what happens?

Rowan: ... I’m not gonna tell you that. *serious tone*

Blake: What? Why?!

Rowan: Oh I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to find out about future events that may transpire now or later. So I’m sorry but no I’m telling you anything more than what I need to.

Blake: Rowan, this could be life or death!

Rowan: And if I did tell you, you would want to stop it. But what you don’t realize is that if I were to tell you any information regarding that, not only would that jeopardize my future but everyone else’s future also. Time is NOT something you want to mess around with, because things could get a lot worse by just changing the smallest thing about the timeline.

Blake: *looks away* ...I-I’m sorry Rowan I didn’t think-

Rowan: It’s ok. I get where you’re coming from, but trust me it’s better off this way.

Blake: Ok...

Jaune: Ok so does everyone agree not to ask too many questions about the future?

RWBYNPR: *nods*

Jaune: Great. Now then, Rowan why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself. You don’t need to go into many details, just your likes, dislikes and hobbies.

Rowan: S-Sure thing Da-Sorry! I mean Jaune. Um.... let’s see. *holds his chin in contemplation* Well as far as my likes go: I like to read comics, spend time with my family and friends, and hear stories about-well, both of your teams adventures. Which I guess hasn’t really started yet hehe.

Yang: Well I guess hero worship just runs in the family then. *looks at both Jaune and Ruby*

Rowan: Well you did tell me most of those stories Auntie Yang, so you are partially to blame. *laughs*

Ren: You mentioned wanting to become a huntsman before, any particular reason?

Rowan: Well to put it simply, I always looked up to huntsmen as role models for me. Not because they’re flashy or cool, well not completely. I decided to train to become a huntsman because they serve as beacons of hope for humanity and keep the dark forces of the Grimm at bay. So if I can help in that, if I can make sure that I can protect even one person and keep them smiling then it would be worth it.

Ren: *nods*

Nora: *gets up close* I just have one question for you and it means life or death.....pancakes or waffles?

Rowan: Pancakes duh? You made sure of that Auntie Nora.

Nora: *ruffles his hair* Yep he’s good!

Rowan: Anything else on your minds?

Ruby: Oh I got one! What’s your best memory with ‘Dad’ here? *points at Jaune*

Jaune: Really Ruby, didn’t we just established no calling us his parents?

Ruby: What you said nothing about his personal life.

Jaune: ‘sigh’ Fine. You get a pass, Rowan what’s your best memory of us?

Rowan: ......... *blank stare*

Ruby: Uh Rowan?

Rowan: Oh I’m sorry! I was just thinking, Hahahaha! Wow, best memory with Dad? Um, wow I-I mean there’s...so many memories I have of him it’s kinda hard to tell! Um.......uh......best m-memory? Uh, you know what it was probably that one time that me and him went to an amusement park and he took me on a roller coaster for the first time! Yep that was a great memory! *scratches the underside of his jaw*

Ruby: Oh...well that’s cool.

Rowan: Yeah it was awesome! Say do any of you know if the mess hall is still open because I’m starving actually! Guess time travel can make a kid hungry! *laughs nervously*

Nora: Yeah they should still be open. Ren you’re and I can take you if you want? *gestures to Ren*

Ren: Yes we wouldn’t mind taking you there.

Rowan: Cool! Sounds like a plan! Well... I’ll see the rest of you in a bit!

Yang: Hey Rowan, mind if I tag along?

Rowan: Sure I don’t mind. Anyone’s happy to come along if they want.

RWBJP: We’re fine.

Rowan: That’s ok! We’ll see you later!

The group of four leave to go to the mess hall to find something for the young boy to eat, leaving behind a silence in the room among them.

Weiss: I’m going to assume that we all know that he was lying about that last question.

Jaune/Ruby: Yup. *they nod*

Pyrrha: But that just begs the question. Why would he lie about something concerning Jaune? From his demeanor before, he seemed to have a close relationship with his parents. So why lie?

Jaune: That’s something I hope we can find out?

-Fin of #2-

Hope you all enjoy this next piece! Getting back into the groove of things, so I’ll start getting back to writing regularly. Thanks for all the support and hope you all have a great day! Stay safe and stay smart out there!

Also here’s the sound FX if you guys were wondering:

https://youtu.be/czI4d8ziaPA

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster child #rowan rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #blake belladona #nora valkyrie #lie ren #pyrrah nikos #time travel

41 notes · View notes

quileutlove · 3 years

Text

Prompt List

Random Prompts (From other blogs and internet), you can choose more than one for me to write.

“No no no, sorry! I just-... I honestly didn’t think you even knew my name.”

“For once, this isn’t actually my fault.”

"There's a whole ass party outside and you two are in the kitchen doing this?"

“They act like they hate you, dude.” / “No, they don’t?” He tilted his head. / “They never smile at you or hold your hand or even kiss you! You would think they would at least break that cold exterior for their boyfriend!” / “They don’t show their love that way.”

"Well, mistakes were made, I guess. Can we just move on, please?"

“Normally, I’d have pushed you out the door by now, but you’re making a compelling argument with the bribery.”

“Wow. Here I thought we had a moment. I spilled my story to you and all you have to say is 'okay’? What does that even mean?!”

“I’m not letting karma deal with this. I can’t trust it’ll be enough of a punishment, nor can I say it’d be fast enough.”

“I can’t believe I’d ever fall in love with someone like you.”

“I know I signed up for this and all, but... if I die, it's still your fault and I will not hold back on blaming you.”

“Rules? Nope, not listening. I’m not following them. Never have, never will.”

“The more I love you, the more I hate you.”

“I’m still way too sober for this.”

There is nothing like the feeling of waking up in the morning after thinking you wouldn’t make it through the night.

“So from the bottom of my cold, dead heart, screw you.”

“Are you always this prone to bad luck and violence? If so, that’s kind of sad.”

“Bruh, I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m a good person, but if you want to keep it. Leave now.”

"I'm not going to ruin today by going to the hospital."

“Aw, look at you, using fancy words at me. You’ve certainly grown up, haven’t you?”

“Am I a hero or the devil’s son? Can’t figure out what side I’m on.”

“Give me back my keys! I’m fine!”

“So that’s it? It’s over?”

“You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and yet I don’t regret a moment of it.”

“No pressure, honest. It’s not like the world is depending on you or anything.”

“You’re so convinced that I’ll hurt them that you haven’t considered it’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

“I have fifty other excuses I could use. Do you want me to start alphabetically?”

“I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me.... am I?”

“Excuse you, I can be as dramatic and ridiculous as I want, outside of work hours. You can’t stop me.”

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

“Promise me you won't start any fights this time.” /“Fine, I promise I won't start any fights.” /“Thank you.” / “.....I will finish them though.”

“They can hear us.”

“When I let go, run for your life.”

.“Go. Go now and don’t look back.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I do... I do. I do love you!”

"I'm your problem now. Just accept it."

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?! Don’t you think I deserved to know?!” / “I did tell you, multiple times. You just didn’t want to believe me.”

“There’s a vampire in the fridge.... Why is there a vampire in the fridge.”

“I’m not scared of him!” / “... Admirable, but also foolish. You should be terrified of him.” They took a sip of their tea. “Fear is not the absence of courage.”

“Whilst I am very well aware that this was an incredibly poor decision, I also want you to be aware, that I very much, don’t care.”

“Please stop trying to look for the good in me, you won't find it. I sold it at a flea market, back in ‘97.”

“You’re taking this a lot better than I expected.” / “Honestly, I was imagining way worse.”

“Are you ok? You look just about ready to launch yourself across the room and beat them to death.” / “Trust me, it’s taking every inch of my control, not to.”

“How did we even get dragged into this complete mess, anyway?” /“I believe that may have been my fault.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so intimidating before.” / “You should meet my mothers.”

"never speak of this again"

“...Did you really have to go that far?” / “Oh my dear, trust me, I wanted to go much much further.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you even like me…it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”

“You were supposed to be my friend. That’s all…that’s all I asked of you. To be my friend. To care.”

“I don’t…I’ve never…been in a relationship and I’m going to make mistakes…I just need you to tell me. I need you to talk to me.”

“I want to believe, I do…I just…how can I believe in something that I can’t see?”

"don't come crying to me"

"This sounds a lot like a marriage proposal." / "Maybe it is."

“Excuse me, but what the McFuck?”

“I never thought I’d have to ask this, but am I being too subtle? Or are you just not interested?”

“You’re right, I am a pacifist, but if you try to harm them ever again, I WILL kill you.... and I will enjoy it.”

“This is probably a really weird question, especially since it’s like.... three am, but do you want to come over and make chocolate chip pancakes with me?”

“I wanted to. I really wanted to tell you. I just–couldn't.”

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. You're Mr. Perfect. You're always right and never make any mistakes." / "Not everybody can be such a little Miss Sunshine all the goddam time!" /"Yeah, well. I'm not like you. I'm not everybody's darling, dear."

“Well, well, well. If I didn’t know you better, A, I might think you’ve actually started caring about them.” / “...I don’t care about anyone.” /“But B isn’t just anyone, are they?”

“Do you really think that anyone is going to love a bad guy like you? You’re going to die alone, and no one will even care that you’re gone.”

“That obnoxious self righteous bullshit, will not work on me, dear. I’m already very happily married.... And yes, before you ask... they know exactly what kind of things I do when they’re not around.”

“If anything happens to them, I’m holding you personally responsible. Their blood will be on your hands.” / “You’re not the only one who cares about them! You think I ever expected this?!” / “You should’ve. If you ever loved them like I do, you should’ve never gotten them involved. If I lose them now because of you...Well, I don’t know what’s going to happen then. I genuinely don’t know what I’ll do. And that should terrify you.”

“It’s going to be alright. You’re safe now. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

“Woah, are you ok?! What’s wrong?!” / “Oh, nothing much. Just accidentally bound my soul to that of someone who should have been fictional, but somehow isn’t, and is now stuck with me for the foreseeable future.” / “....I’m sorry I asked.”

“You really are dumb. I love you, but you're an idiot.”

“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?”

“I just want you to be safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you!”

“I want you to be happy…even if its not with me.”

“I want to feel like this forever.”

“You give me a reason to be better, to do better.”

“God, you are so fucking cute.”

“I love you, but I need you to go away because you’re really bloody distracting and I have to pass this test tomorrow.”

“I…I can’t do this without you.”

“You weren’t there…why weren’t you there?”

“I needed you! I needed you!”

“Now it’s over…I don’t really know what to do.”

“I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!”

“Sometimes you love someone and you don’t want them to leave…because if they’re beside you, you can see that they’re safe and you can keep them safe. But, if they go somewhere without you…you might lose them,”

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are so important to me, you are such a big part of my life, that I just…I can’t imagine you not here.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Stop apologising for other people! You’re not the shitty one!”

“Stop being a fucking dick.”

“Can anyone else hear those Jumanji like drums? Or is it just me?”

“I’m only important when you need something from me.”

“I am fed up of half measures. I deserve better”

“Don’t look at me! I’m a mess!” / “I love it when you’re a mess!”

“I don’t think you’re annoying…I know…I don’t…I really enjoy listening to and hearing what you have to say even if it's a lot sometimes..”

One reaching for the other's hand to comfort them, to provide support. A thumb brushing lightly against skin.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Go big or go home” / “I’m already home.”

“I look at you and I…I feel so sad because I love you but I also have been hurt so many times that I don’t think I can forgive and forget.”

“I didn’t take you for the settling down type.”

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” / “I don’t want to ruin your party.” / “You could never ruin anything.” / “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.”

“Please don’t make me choose.”

“I can finally understand why you call them your arch-nemesis…What. A. Dick.”

“Could you come get me?”

“I just thought that since you weren’t feeling too good, maybe this would help.”

“I thought you said no more dangerous stunts?”

“Please get me away from him. He hasn’t left me alone all night and I am this close to committing a murder.” / “I apologise sincerely if my handsome/beautiful face has kept you awake all night.”

“Would it help if I stayed?”

“Where are you taking me?”

“I’m here and I’m staying.”

“You’re not exactly known for your great ideas.”

“Can we talk about it?”

“Go to hell.”

“I think we’re done here.”

“Oh, I don’t actually care.”

“I have to let go.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Can you stop talking for literally ten seconds?”

“I am not about to let you leave that easily.”

“Well, it’s not my fault.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“This definitely has the potential to be catastrophic.”

“You still have that?”

“I will not justify that with a response.”

“Apparently I can’t have a single moment of rest.”

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“It’s not a competition.”

“Keep talking.”

“I hate being the only adult in the room.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Does this count as breaking and entering?”

“pew, pew, motherfucker.”

“slap my ass and call me a wizard, that was some freaky magic shit I just did.” / “is the ass slapping really necessary?”

“I’m dying!” / “it’s just a fever, you’re okay.”

“premarital hugs are against my religion.” / “but aren’t you an atheist?”

“stop looking so grumpy, it’s lame.”

“looking good, * LAST NAME * ” / “we’ve been married for five years, how are we still on last name basis?” / “I was talking to myself.”

“do you want my jacket?”

“oh, you’re jealous!”

“your hand looks heavy, can I hold it?”

“is there a reason you’re blushing like that?”

“I’m just so stressed, all the damn time.”

“should you be drinking that much?”

“you can’t fight if you’re dead!”

“go to hell.”

“this is all your fault.”

“look at me, please, we can still fix this.”

“it’s not working out. We’re not working out.”

“mistakes are easily made in the moment. Apologies are not.”

“if you touch her, I swear to god, I will kick your ass so hard that your vertebrae will pop out of your mouth like a pez dispenser.”

“nightmares again?”

“hey I know you’re hurting, but you’re not alone in this, okay?”

“can I. . . . can i just have a hug please?”

Series Quotes:

"Don't let what he wants eclipse what you need, he's very dreamy, but he's not the sun. You are." - Grey's Anatomy.

"Next time you see my face, show some respect." - The Sopranos.

"DNA doesn't make a family. Love does."- The Fosters.

"Every song ends, but is that any reason not to enjoy the music." - One Tree Hill.

"If I die, turn my tweets in to a book." - Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

"Just have a little faith." - Prison Break.

"So pick me, choose me, love me." - Grey's Anatomy.

"Everybody lies." - House.

"Saving people, hunting things, the family business." - Supernatural.

“God knows I couldn’t love them more, but even the Kennedys didn’t get together this often.” - Modern Family.

“I revealed too much too soon. I was emotionally slutty.” - Sex and the City.

“Either this kid has a lightbulb up his butt or his colon has a great idea.” - Scrubs.

“Once again I humiliate myself by assuming I’m a member of this family.” - The King of Queens.

“I want painful, difficult, devastating, life-changing, extraordinary love.” - Scandal.

“I’m not gonna ask you if you just said what I think you just said because I know it’s what you just said.” - The X-Files.

“Does Elena enjoy having both of you worship at her altar?” - The Vampire Diaries.

“More is lost by indecision than wrong decision.” - The Sopranos.

“Welcome to the real world. It sucks. You’re gonna love it!” - Friends.

“All I understood was that she was the girl I sat up every night thinking about and when I’m with her I feel happy to be alive, like I can do anything, even talk to you like this. So that’s what I feel is love—when I’m better because she’s here.” - Boy Meets World.

“I don’t want to be happy; I want to be with you.” - Three’s Company.

“ You can’t live your life according to maybes“- Orange is the new black.

"And what exactly do you think fairy tales are? They are a reminder that our lives will get better if we just hold on to hope. Your happy ending may not be what you expect, but that is what will make it so special." - Once Upon a Time

"It's always been you. I tried to fight it and I've tried to deny it. And I can't do it. I can't. You're undeniable." - The O.C.

"People don’t write sonnets about being compatible, or novels about shared life goals and stimulating conversation. The great loves are the crazy ones.” - Gossip Girl.

"Tragedy blows through your life like a tornado, uprooting everything. Creating chaos. You wait for the dust to settle and then you choose. You can live in the wreckage and pretend it's still the mansion you remember. Or you can crawl from the rubble and slowly rebuild." - Veronica Mars.

“He’s trying to force you to like normal things. And you shouldn’t like things because people tell you you’re supposed to.” - Stranger Things.

"Mourn the losses because they are many. But celebrate the victories, because they are few." - Queer as Folk.

“You spend your whole life looking for answers because you think the next answer would change something. Maybe make you a little less miserable. And you know that when you run out of questions you don’t just run out of answers. You run out of hope.” - House

"What I’m saying is that I think, maybe, the best things, the richest things aren’t supposed to come easily, and that sometimes the moments that make the most sense happen when everything else doesn’t and, well, I think you deserve more than popcorn tonight." - Psych.

“Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour and it can never be used to hurt you.” - Game of Thrones.

“And when you find yourself lost in the darkness and despair, remember it’s only in the black of night you see the stars.” - One Tree Hill.

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trashcanband4 · 4 years

Text

Therapy Sessions Ch. 2

Chapter 1

Pairing: NeganxOc. Setting: The Sanctuary. Warnings: None other than Negan being OOC. Summary: Negan begins attempting to get to know the OC (Kelly.).

The next day she woke up to an empty bed and a note left on the dining table. As she picked it up she read aloud, “You are to stay here until I return. Make yourself at home but touch my stash of food and you will be sorry.” She scoffed and tossed the note back on the table.

“Right, so what am I supposed to do here all day?” As she looked around the room she spotted a few books, a small stereo and some CD’s on a shelf sitting to the right of the door, but none of them peaked her interest. Finally she popped a cd into the stereo and started working out.

She had just finished doing cool down stretches when Negan walked in. Lucille propped up on his shoulder. “Good morning.” Negan told her seeing that she wasn’t still in bed like he expected she’d be given the events of the previous night and how late they went to sleep. If he had the chance to sleep in he’d definitely take it, but he had a community to run.

“Mornin’.” She answered as she sat down on the foot of the bed, leaving the dining chairs at the table for Negan. He walked into the room and leaned the sparkling clean Lucille against the bookshelf by the door then sat down in the dining chair crossing his legs at the knees.

“So what’s in store for me today?” she asked bringing her socked feet up onto the bed to sit cross-legged.

“You and I have the rest of the day together and I intend on spending every second of it picking at your dead little soul.” He replied as he sat down in the armchair.

“Why?” she asked, emotionlessly, as usual.

“Because what’s dead doesn’t stay dead these days.” He replied with a cocky smile.

“You think you can bring me back to life?” she asked, her voice turning hard as she crossed her arms over her chest. She wanted to tell him that the walls she had built up, walls constructed from the fallen bodies of her loved ones, were impossible to tear down. However she kept her mouth shut, because telling him that would be letting him in and that wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m going to try.” He answered finding it ironic that while he was going to attempt to fix her, Daryl was being held in a tiny room in which Negan intended on breaking the man.

“Good luck with that.” She shrugged and dropped her arms from across her chest.

“Tell me about who you were before the world got flushed down the shitter.” He told her as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees.

“And if I don’t want to?” she asked flatly.

“Then I’ll ask you to tell me what you did for a living.” He countered.

“And if I say that I don’t want to answer that question either?” she asked already getting tired of him and his pointless questions.

“Then I’ll tell you that I am being very generous keeping you in here with me. I could easily put you in the room next to Daryl’s where you can listen to him screaming and crying as fucking Easy Street play’s on loop and you will be fed the same shitty as fuck dog food sandwiches as him.” He told her as his face turned cold and his eyes glaring.

She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest again. “Fine, before the dead came back to eat the living, I was a wife and mother. I was chasing two kids around a three bedroom house, changing diapers and getting baby food thrown in my face. My husband worked two jobs to make ends meet. Things were hard, but I wouldn’t and couldn’t have asked for a better family.”

“Do you have children back at Alexandria?” he asked and she simply shook her head no. “What happened to them?”

“Near the beginning my youngest was taken from me by a virus that spread through our community like wildfire. We didn’t have the resources to handle it. The poor baby didn’t stand a chance. He’d always had a weak immune system. He was three.” She answered not looking at Negan, but at her hands in her lap as she picked at her cuticles. “My oldest, was taken from me by some ass holes that called themselves the wolves. I was helping stock the pantry and my husband was out on a supply run when they attacked. She was home alone. The wolves slit her throat.” She glanced up at Negan then back down to her hands. “She was nine.”

“So is that when you started shutting down?” he asked quietly.

“No, I felt every single bit of that shit.” She answered honestly.

“You mentioned a husband. He dead now?” Negan pressed.

“After we lost our son things between us became…strained. We only stayed together because of our daughter. So when we lost her-” she cut herself off not wanting to elaborate too much. “Let’s just say things got really, really ugly. He eventually left the community. I don’t know where he went and I don’t care to.” The whole time she answered his questions her voice stayed the same, flat, uncaring tone as usual.

“Damn… that all sucks.” he sighed and rubbed at his chin.

“The world sucks now.” She shrugged one shoulder.

“You’re not wrong about that.” He replied as he leaned back in the chair again and brought his booted foot up to rest on his knee.“Let’s lighten things up a bit.” He said and Kelly stopped picking at her cuticles. “Coffee or tea?”

“French Vanilla chai tea.” She answered quickly.

“I’m a black coffee guy myself. What TV shows were you into before?” he told her information about himself even though she didn’t ask.

“The Big Bang Theory, South Park and as embarrassing as it is to admit, The Bold and The Beautiful.” She answered.

“The Bold and The Beautiful was that shitty soap opera right?” he asked and she nodded. “I wasn’t much into tv myself. Did you have a celebrity crush?” He picked up a baseball that was on the floor next to the dining chair and started tossing it in the air and catching it.

“It was always a tie between Channing Tatum and Jensen Ackels.” She answered and for the first time Negan heard what he thought was a smile in her voice.

“Seriously, Jensen Ackles?” he asked as he stopped tossing the ball and cocked a brow at her.

“Hey, dude was hot as hell.” She argued with a small smile that was no where near reaching her eyes, but it was a start. “Just saying.”

“You know Lucille used to tell me that Jensen reminded her of me what I was younger.” He commented quirking Kelly’s interest for the first time.

“You’re bat talks to you?” she asked and he knew she meant it sarcastically but the tone wasn’t there.

“Lucille was my wife. My real wife… before all of this.” He explained and Kelly just made an “Ah” face. “Dog or Cat?” he asked going back to this or that questions.

“Dog, you?” she asked figuring that if he was going to get to know her and keep her in his room for the foreseeable future, she should start getting to know him too.

“Dog. Cats are too fuckin’ moody.” He replied. “Toast or eggs?”

“Eggs.” She answered then motioned for him to answer. He smirked a little, thinking it a good thing that she wanted him to answer his questions too.

“Toast.” Negan answered than asked, “Cardio or Weights?”

“Cardio. Stamina matters these days.” She answered.

“Weights.” He smirked again.

“Cake or pie?”

“Neither. I don’t do sweets.” She answered.

“What’s the matter with you? Sweets are what make life worth living.” He asked dramatically with a shake of his head.

“I’ve never had a sweet tooth. Even as I kid I didn’t eat a lot of candy.” She said with a shrug.

“So what did you do on your birthday, stick candles in a pot roast?” he asked and she cracked the smallest of smiles.

“I had a cake, I just didn’t eat it.” she answered as she dropped her feet to hang off of the side of the bed, not quite touching the floor. “What about you, cake or pie?”

“Classic apple pie with the sugared lattice on top.” He answered. “So you don’t eat sweets at all, none, ever?” he asked stuck on the sweets thing.

She sighed and tilted her head back, people always had this reaction when she told them that she never ate chewy or hard candies or cake or cookies. “I will eat mint chocolate chip ice cream every other blue moon, but that’s it.”

“Mint chocolate chip? Out of all the awesome ice cream flavors you chose the most disgusting one.”

Kelly just rolled her eyes at him. “Okay so out of all the awesome ice cream flavors what’s your favorite Mr. Judgmental?” she asked sarcastically.

“Butter pecan all the way baby.” He answered with a shit eating grin that showed off his dimples and perfect teeth.

“Now that’s disgusting.” She said with a point at him. “Bath or shower?” she flipped things around and asked him a question. He didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in the conversation.

“Shower.” He answered.

“Same, I never understood how someone could soak in a soup of their own filth.” She added and he smiled at her, thinking the same thing. “Hamburger or taco?”

“Hamburger.” He answered without missing a beat.

“Yeah you look like a hamburger guy.” She said giving him an appraising gaze.

“Let me guess, tacos?” he asked and she nodded. “Most important quality in a partner, Intelligence or sense of humor?”

“Why can’t I have both?” she asked and he shook his head at her. “Fine, sense of humor.”

“Intelligence.” He answered “Cups in the cupboard right side up or up side down?”

“Up side down. It’s more stable and causes fewer chips.” She answered. “Toilet paper on the dispenser facing up or down?”

“Down, what kind of psycho puts it on facing up?” he asked with a smile.

“My ex-husband. It drove me absolutely batty. That and leaving his socks right next to the laundry basket instead of in it.” She said getting more rapped up in the conversation than she had meant to.

“Well, as you can see I’m a pretty tidy guy so we should get along just fine.” His statement brought her back down to earth, remembering that she was once again going to be sharing a bed with this man. A man she hardly knew anything about. Noticing her sudden silence and her eyes that stared down at the floor he stood up from the chair and moved to sit next to her, a few inches of space between them. “What are you thinkin’ about, Dead Girl?” he asked as he bumped his shoulder against hers as if they had been friends for years.

“I…am… thinking about how I don’t think you’re going to be able to…fix, me. I know I’m fucked up. I watched you turn two men’s head into tomato soup and yet I still have no problem sharing a bed with you. A normal person, someone in their right mind, wouldn’t have willingly climbed into your truck, slept in your bed, or be sitting here with you like you couldn’t be the literal death of me.” She finally looked across her shoulder at his bright hazels looking at her as he listening closely. “If you can’t fix me will you at least make my death quick and painless?”

“I’m not going to kill you, darlin’. I refuse to except that you are un-repairable.” He replied.

She sighed and fell backwards onto the bed. “I hate this, you making me remember my past, trying to get into my head…”

“Well,” he started as he turned around and threw one of his legs over hers, straddling her, “there could be perks for both of us.”

She bit her lip as she placed her hands on his chest then slid them up to rest on each side of his neck, making him smirk cockily. “You can get into my head, or you can get into my pants. You can’t have both.” She patted him on the shoulder then slid down off of the bed, her nose brushing the crotch of his pants as she did. “Sorry Charlie.” She said as she stood up then turned to face him.

“Okay, then I’ll ask you some more questions.” He said as she moved around to sit in the middle of the bed.

“God, you’re borning.” She groaned then sat down in the dining chair to answer more pointless, boring questions.

Tags: @jodiereedus22 @mtngirlforever @zzeacat @winchester-angel @moodygrip @hells-mistress @lighthope08 @sapphire1727 @luisadontcurr @ilkaeliseb @twdeadfanfic @ravengalaxia @1lluminaticonfirmed @my-current-fandom-is @coffeebooksandfandom @lonewolf471 @gruffle1 @mblaqgi @calumstuffs @beltzboys2015-blog @neontiger007 @sourwolf-sterek32 @dixonluvv @dotslabyrinth @kayln97 @art-flirt @cbarter @chocolatealmondmilkk @chocolatealmondmilk-blog @daryldixonandfrogs @feartheendlesssummer @brooklynalpha @topsykretts926-blog @lonewolf471 @baseballbitch116 @felicisimor

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setaripendragon · 5 years

Text

So, I accidentally found my way into the Narnia fandom, and, as I have a tendancy to do, immediately started thinking about making a next gen. Of course, I had to make up love interests for them, and I wound up stealing people/families/my own next gen OCs from my other favourite fandoms of the time; Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, and Pride and Prejudice.

So have a bunch of silly little meetcutes I came up with in the middle of the night for the Pevensies and their love interests. (There’s also non-specific references to Lucy/Tumnus in this, just in case that’s a NoTP for anyone)

(Aaand credit to The Stone Gryphon and One Promise Kept for some of my ideas regarding Susan and Edmund’s love interests)

A lot of the boys at Peter’s school had taken badly to the fact that there would be girls at their school this year. Peter had gotten into more than a few fist fights over it, but he wasn’t a King here, he wasn’t even a soldier here, he was just that uppity Pevensie boy, and no one much cared that he thought they were all being petty arseholes.

So he wasn’t surprised to go back for the new term and find the place a seething mass of confusion and tension. The girls who’d transferred in were all variations of stiff or shy or stubborn, and the boys were generally being arrogant, territorial little bastards. Peter took a deep breath, and resigned himself to wading through bullshit for the foreseeable future. He did his best to be courteous to the girls, putting more effort in than he normally might, considering they were likely to see so very little kindness here.

“Well if it isn’t Little Miss Know-It-All!” He heard a voice jeering in a lull in the noise of the hallway, and stopped, turning to try and pinpoint the altercation. “You might be the teacher’s new pet, but do you really think you can keep up in a boys school?”

There. Peter spotted two boys from his own year – Johnson and Oldershaw – boxing in one of the girls. Peter recognised her from one of his classes, but he didn’t know her name. He’d thought she was kind of shy before, but now he could see that there was fire in her eyes as she glared up at the two boys.

“Why not?” She demanded, chin lifted proudly, and Peter grinned, steps slowing. Maybe she didn’t need rescuing after all. Still, he wasn’t going to leave until he was certain, so he slid out of the way of the traffic, and propped his shoulder against the wall to observe.

Oldershaw laughed mockingly, and the girl bristled. Johnson sneered. “Because reading a few books might’ve been enough for a girl school, but this isn’t some prissy little finishing school, girlie.” Johnson laughed now, too. “There’s no way a pretty little mouse like you will be able to keep up on the pitch. Can you imagine her trying to box?” He sneered, and reached out to give the girl’s shoulder a shove.

Indignation drove Peter upright again, because it was one thing to sling words about, but if Johnson was going to start beating up on a girl just to soothe his own ego, Peter was going to pummel him.

The girl got there first.

It was so fast Peter would have missed it if he didn’t have over a decade of experience with the lightning-quick chaos of a battlefield. The girl’s fist snapped out and met Johnson’s jaw, sending him reeling with a yelp. Then she stomped on Oldershaw’s foot when he yelped an indignant insult, elbowed him in the solar plexus, and then headbutted Johnson in the face before he could do more than snarl about the bruise on his jaw.

“I might not have been taught how to box, but that doesn’t mean I can’t dump you on your arse when you’re asking for it!” The girl snapped, and in that moment she reminded Peter painfully of some of the falcons in Narnia’s aerial corps. “I’ve spent a long time around boys a lot tougher than you. You’re not that scary.”

“Why you little-!” Johnson barked, face red with mortification and fury. Several people had stopped to gawk when the violence erupted, and he had to be feeling the eyes on him, the audience to his humiliation. Peter had seen it before, proud lords and generals refusing to back down when they were beaten, refusing to show valour in the face of defeat, wasting the lives of good soldiers for their pride in a vain attempt to prove something that wasn’t even real.

Peter grabbed him by the shoulder before he could lunge. “That’s enough, Johnson. Are you really going to sink so low as to hit a lady?” He demanded, using his High King voice, and infusing it with as much disappointment as he could.

“No lady hits like that.” Johnson protested, but it was bitter and sullen, rather than enraged. There was blood dripping out of his nose, and it only accentuated the pouty expression on his face.

Peter grinned cheerfully, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Then she’ll fit right in here, won’t she?” He asked pointedly and Johnson scowled at being caught out like that. “Best go see the nurse about your nose. Why don’t you see him there, Oldershaw?” Peter commanded.

With a bit more grumbling, they went. The girl eyed them warily until they were out of sight, and then turned her suspicious scowl on Peter. “Thanks.” She said, not gracefully, but sincerely.

Peter’s grin became a genuine smile. “You had them handled perfectly well.” He assured her. “I just don’t think you’d like to get in trouble for brawling on your first day.”

The girl snorted and shrugged, then stuck out her hand with almost aggressive assertiveness. “Jane Goodall-Darling.” She introduced.

Peter shook her hand. “Peter Pevensie. Nice to meet you.”

Jane’s eyebrows flew up, and she tipped her head to eye him with suspicion again. “Peter, huh?” She asked, with a level of meaning layered underneath that caught Peter by surprise, and grabbed his attention in a vice. It was exactly the same sort of tone that he or any of his siblings might use when asking ‘a lion, huh?’ or some variation thereof. So he just nodded slowly, and waited to see what she’d make of it. “What’s your opinion on growing up?” Jane eventually asked.

Peter had been expecting something a little weird, but that was such an odd question, it took him a moment to process, and another moment to decide how on earth to answer. In the end, on nothing more than the strange certainty that there was something a bit Narnian about the question, he answered with the truth. “Looking forward to it.” He admitted wryly. And when Jane’s eyebrows popped up again, he shrugged. “I can’t wait to catch up with myself.” He explained, without really explaining.

But Jane obviously caught the same sense of more that he had, because after a single beat of surprise, she grinned. “You’ll do.” She decided, and linked her arm through Peter’s. “Escort a lady to class?” She asked him with an air of playful superiority.

Peter inclined his head with all the gravity of a king. “It would be my honour, Lady Jane.”

Jane gave a very inelegant snort, but played along, and let him guide her down the hall towards their next class. “Yes, it would.”

Susan shouldn’t be here, she knew she shouldn’t, but she didn’t care. A little make-up, and she could look almost twenty with ease, and no one questioned whether she was old enough to be in the pubs and dance halls. It was as close as she could get to feeling like an adult again, so she would take it. It was nothing like the parties and balls and festivals she’d attended and hosted in Narnia, but the energy was the same, joy and romance and community, all touched with a hint of wildness. In Narnia, it had been a gleeful sort of wildness, but here it was touched with desperation.

The bar she’d chosen tonight was, as always, full of soldiers on leave or injured or about to be shipped out. All of the women who ventured in were showered in attention and offers to buy drinks, and Susan was no exception. She politely declined the offers, and bought her own drink. It wasn’t because she didn’t appreciate the offers, or because she wasn’t interested in flirting with some of the soldiers. It was just that she missed her independence so much, and this was her attempt to reclaim a shadow of it.

She sipped her drink and chatted idly with one of the other women – who had accepted the offer of a drink, and probably more, going by the arm her soldier had around her waist – enjoying being treated like a sensible adult for once. She debated buying a second drink as she finished the first, but before she could make up her mind, a new drink identical to her first was placed in front of her. She gave the woman behind the bar a wary look. “I didn’t order another one.” She pointed out.

“It’s from the gentleman over there.” The woman said with a nod towards a man in civilian clothes, but with the bearing of a soldier, sitting at a table not too far from Susan’s place at the bar. He was dark-haired and handsome, and flashed her a roguish grin when he caught her stare. Susan injected a touch of Queenly Disdain into her look, and twitched one eyebrow up in scathing question.

The grin became more sheepish than debonair, and he slipped out of his chair to wander over and lean on the bar beside her. “Saw you turning down all those offers of drinks and figured I’d be smart about it and ask forgiveness instead of permission.” He pointed out, and Susan was intrigued to note the muted American accent colouring his words.

There was a long pause as they each waited for the other to speak. “Well?” Susan prompted, when it became clear that the man wasn’t going to continue.

He looked confused for a beat, and then laughed as understanding dawned clasping his hands together before his chin as if in prayer. “Please forgive me for tricking you into getting a free drink?” He pleaded.

“Hmm…” Susan mused thoughtfully, eyeing him. “No.” She decided, and he gasped and clapped a hand to his chest like she’d shot him. “If you want my forgiveness you’re going to have to earn it.”

“And just what might the forgiveness of such a proud lady cost a poor lowly soldier like me?” He teased, pulling an exaggerated expression of woe. It didn’t suit his face at all.

“An evening of decent company and at least one more drink.” Susan declared, and felt a surprising little burst of pride when what appeared to be genuine delight lit up his face. He straightened up and offered her his arm, nodding towards the table he’d claimed, since there wasn’t room for him to join her at the bar. Susan snagged her drink and took a sip, letting him wait there with his arm out for a long moment before she accepted it.

He pulled out her chair for her like a proper gentleman, and sat opposite her in a casual sprawl that was significantly less gentlemanly. “Oh, where are my manners?” He asked suddenly, sitting a little straighter. “Sergeant Jack Manchester, at your service, my lady.”

Susan extended her hand to him, daring him to do anything other than shake it properly with her gaze alone. “Susan.” She replied as he obliged, grip firm but eyes bright with humour. No last name, because if anyone – like an overly charming American soldier – asked after a Susan Pevensie, they would find a fifteen year old girl, not the woman she was pretending to be. Not the woman she actually was.

“Just Susan?” Sergeant Manchester asked, not quite whining, not quite pouting, but with too-soulful eyes and a plaintive, teasing lilt to his voice.

Susan couldn’t help it. “Gentle Susan.” She corrected, even though it was stupid, he wouldn’t get the humour of it, it would only confuse him and make her seem odd. She could have cursed herself the moment it left her lips, because she’d been having so much fun not-quite-flirting with this man, and now he was going to think her strange.

Only, instead of judgement, a look of thoughtful curiosity flashed across the Sergeant’s face. “Gentle as in kind? Gentle as in light of touch? Or Gentle as in noble?" He questioned, playing along despite the apparently ridiculous turn to the conversation.

“Yes.” Susan replied, feeling her heart stutter once in disbelieving hope.

Sergeant Manchester – Jack – gave her a slow, easy, approving smile, eyebrows raised in delighted incredulity. “Gentle Susan.” He repeated, like he was trying out the taste of it. “Queen Susan.”

Susan’s breath caught. “Queen?” She echoed, barely hearing herself. He couldn’t possibly know, could he? It wasn’t possible, except, of course, that she and her siblings had stumbled their way into Narnia through some old wardrobe. Whose to say there weren’t other doors to Narnia out there, for other people to trip through?

“My very own White Queen.” Jack confirmed, which was like a bucket of ice-water down Susan’s spine. No. He didn’t know, or he would not compare her to that awful creature. He caught her grimace before she could tuck it away and be tactful, and his eyebrows knotted together in apologetic concern. “No?” He questioned.

Jack looked like a puppy when he did that, Susan couldn’t help but think. “White isn’t exactly my colour.” She replied, managing a touch of teasing to match his from before.

It seemed to work, because he brightened immediately. “No, I can see that.” He agreed. “Not red, either, though.” He pointed out, and Susan tipped her head in agreement, although she wondered at the way he phrased it. Most people wouldn’t set white and red as opposites that way, but then, she mused, most people wouldn’t hear ‘gentle’ and jump straight to ‘queen’ either. “Green?” He wondered, but Susan shook her head. She had worn green, sometimes, while she was in Narnia, but it certainly hadn’t been her favourite.

“I’ve always been partial to purple.” She informed him.

“The royal colour, of course.” Jack agreed, shaking his head at himself like he thought it was silly he hadn’t guessed. “You would look absolutely stunning in purple, my queen.” He teased.

Susan had kind of missed being called that. It was silly, but so many people she’d cared about – people long dead, now – had called her that day in and day out that it was both a comforting familiar and a bittersweet reminder. And it was equally silly to think that such a small, simple thing could make her want to keep Jack forever, but she couldn’t help it.

She probably wouldn’t see him again after tonight, and he might be dead within the year, but she could let herself pretend just for the evening. “I do.” She agreed lightly, making him laugh, and then drained the last of her drink. “And now, I believe you still owe me a drink, Sergeant.”

“As my queen commands.” Jack announced dramatically, and this time, Susan let herself laugh at the small joy of being seen, in some small way, for who she truly was.

Edmund honestly had no idea how they’d ended up getting dragged to someone else’s Sunday roast, but he figured any bloke who was so besotted with Susan that he genuinely couldn’t wait to introduce her to his family, even after the nasty shock of finding out just how old she actually was, physically, was probably a decent prospect for his sister. Peter clearly didn’t agree, and kept giving Jack wary, judgemental stares. To his credit, Jack wasn’t letting them touch him. He continued to tease and joke with Susan, coaxing out the brighter, gentler side of her that Edmund had worried she’d lost on their return to this world.

The house was a large one, just as impressive as Professor Kirke’s old manor, and it was a good thing, too, because there were so many people there that anything smaller would have burst at the seams. Edmund had to flex diplomatic skills he’d almost forgotten in order to remember everyone’s names, and there was so much colour and chaos and strangeness that it felt like a little piece of home. The only thing missing was a few talking animals.

It was too easy, and yet strangely jarring, to slip into the role of King Edmund the Just, to move about the simple family gathering like it was a diplomatic function with the rulers and sovereigns of neighbouring lands, and he found himself pulling together a map in his mind. Jack’s father was Lord Manchester, originally of England but now living with his wife in America. Jack’s father’s half-bother was Victor Ascot, Esquire, who only had one daughter and was planning to pass his estate to his sister’s eldest son, Odhran Kavanaugh.

The Kavanaugh clan were easy to spot, because they were, to a one, violently ginger and freckled. Then there was Mrs Kingsley, their heavily pregnant hostess and her widowed mother who lapsed into Mandarin whenever she was annoyed. Edmund was intrigued – and delighted – to learn that Mrs Kingsley – Lynn, as she insisted he call her – was, in fact, the master of the Kingsley estate, not her husband.

It was around that point in the conversation that Edmund spotted Lucy slipping away upstairs, and followed her. He found her hiding in a spare room, cluttered with old junk. An age-spotted mirror, an old but still serviceable loom, a large chest of drawers, a very fancy old divan, and several scattered collections of oddities like kaleidoscopes, cards – some of which appeared to have been nibbled – chess sets, and tea cups. A bowl of pot-pourri on top of the chest of drawers made the whole room smell like an orchard, although not one Edmund could pinpoint. Maybe cherries?

His sister was sitting on the divan, clutching her stomach like she was about to throw up and gasping like she was trying very hard not to cry. Edmund’s heart went out to her, but he hesitated to intrude. Instead, he called her name from the doorway. She startled, sniffled, and turned to him with a painful attempt at a smile. “I’m okay, Ed, I just- just need a minute.”

“It’s eerie, isn’t it?” Edmund asked instead of leaving.

Lucy stared at him for a long, long moment, and then crumpled. “I want to go home so bad, Ed.” She sobbed, hands coming up to hide her face.

Edmund finally went to sit beside her and put an arm around her. “I know.” He sighed. “This place- Jack’s family, they’re… they seem almost too good to be true. I keep catching myself talking like- like myself, and realising no one even batted a lash.”

“I can see why Susan loves him.” Lucy agreed softly, and then in a whisper. “That’s the problem. I wish I could enjoy it, finding so many amazing open-minded people here, but… it only reminds me of everything- everyone I’ve lost.”

“Maybe it’s not them that’s lost. Maybe it’s you what got lost, and they still know exactly where they are. Ever thought of that, huh?” Edmund and Lucy both startled at the new voice and looked down to see a custard-and-cream coloured dormouse wearing a little indigo blue tunic standing on Lucy’s knee. Lucy chuckled softly, even as Edmund stared.

“Maybe you’re right.” Lucy agreed. “I do feel rather lost right now.”

Edmund cleared his throat, and both Lucy and the mouse looked up at him. “Excuse me, my good mouse, but… what are you doing here?” He asked, and saw from the corner of his eye Lucy’s eyes widen and then snap back down to the mouse as if she’d only just realised that there really, really shouldn’t be talking animals on this side of the wardrobe. Even in the house of a family that joyously accepted interracial and same-sex partnerships, made no fuss about women in power, and didn’t treat children like they were stupid.

“It’s Sunday, innit?” The mouse demanded. “Everyone-”

“Sal!” This new voice echoed from the mirror of all places, and Edmund watched in awe as a person stepped out of it, the silvery glass rippling like water in their wake. “Sal, I told you, you cannae come this time, Jack said he was bringing gue-” The man was handsome, with curly hair a rich shade of red and long enough to pull back into a tail at the nape his neck, underneath a somewhat lopsided tartan fishing hat. There was golden stubble dusting his jaw, and he was wearing the sort of loose white shirt that Edmund knew from experience would be terribly transparent when wet. “Guests.” The man finished with a grimace. “Ach, hello there. I see you’ve, ah, already met Sallevlan.” He greeted, shooting a glare at the little mouse, whose ears twitched back in contrition even as they lifted their little head in defiance.

“Yes, they’ve been very nice.” Lucy assured the man.

He blinked, but then smiled in clear relief. “You’re nae… scared?” He checked.

“Oh, no, not at all!” Lucy insisted. “Not to say that Sallevlan couldn’t be fearsome if they wanted to, but they were really very kind and helpful.” Sallevlan puffed up with pride. “I’m Lucy Pevensie, and it’s very nice to meet you both.”

“Tavan Hightopp.” The man replied, holding out a hand for Lucy to shake, and then to Edmund.

Edmund refused to let himself let the touch linger, but he couldn’t help noting the multi-coloured ink stains on the long fingers with a touch of entirely inappropriate desire. “Edmund.” He said, keeping his voice level and polite, even though he was so tired of holding himself back like this. Tavan, though, seemed to pick up on something regardless, and his gaze lingered.

Odd, Edmund could have sworn his eyes were grass-green, but now they looked lilac. “Well, if you don’t mind Sal, mayhap I could let the others know they can come if they want? They were a wee bit disappointed when they heard Jack wanted tae introduce someone new but they couldnae come meet them yet.” Tavan explained, words coming fast and eager. Even though Lucy was the one who’d carried the conversation so far, his eyes stayed on Edmund’s.

“We’d love to meet everyone.” Edmund said, smiling faintly.

“Great! I’ll-” Tavan turned towards the mirror mid-sentence, and stammered to a stop when another person stuck just their head and shoulders through it. Edmund thought he could see a hazy image of the rest of their body through the glass, but it was distorted by the reflection of the room. Their features were similar enough to Tavan’s that Edmund didn’t doubt they were related, even though the woman had much shorter hair, a narrower, smoother jaw, and cat-yellow eyes.

“Tavan!” She snapped. “Did ye find Sal y- Oh.”

“I found him.” Tavan replied, laughing. “Although some of Jack’s guests found him first. This is Edmund and Lucy Pevensie.” He introduced. Lucy waved, and Edmund nodded. “And this is my twin sister, Tallis.” Tavan added to them, before returning his attention to his sister. “I think it’ll be safe tae let everyone come, Lissy.”

“Yeah.” Tallis agreed, eyeing the way Lucy wasn’t batting a lash when Sal demanded to know if this ‘Susan’ Jack had gushed about was really as Gentle as a Queen. “I’ll just… let Pa know.” Tallis promptly vanished into the mirror and Edmund, assured for the moment that Lucy was too distracted to be properly upset, rose to join Tavan in standing in front of it.

“Where does it go?” Edmund asked conversationally. There was a second reflection in the mirror, and if he focused, he could see an old-fashioned living room, caught somewhere between rustic, golden age, and fantastical. It wasn’t anything like Cair Paravel, but there was still something distinctly Narnian about it that took his breath away. And the people he could catch glimpses of like ghosts were equally Narnian, perhaps more-so. He saw a passel of pale, white-haired kids like river nymphs or winter sprites, a bunch of puppies gambolling with them and very clearly conversing with them, too, a grey-blue cat hovering in mid-air above the head of an older woman in trousers who looked enough like Tallis and Tavan to be related, although she was blonde rather than red-headed.

Tavan glanced from him to the mirror and back again. “My home in Iplam. It’s a region in Underland that my pa is the Laird of, although it’s also part of the Outlands.”

“Do you have a map?” Edmund asked hopefully.

Tavan laughed. “Well, we do, but it might take you a while tae learn how tae read it.” He explained sheepishly. “Underland can be a wee bit confusing for people who are used tae thinking in a linear sort of way.” Edmund blinked, and stared. He had no idea how a map could possibly be non-linear, but he suddenly, desperately wanted to find out. Tavan must have read some of that hunger on his face, because his grin turned delighted. “Mayhaps… mayhaps after dinner, ye’d like tae come visit?”

“I’d love to.”

Lucy had never waged war like this before. This was far more Edmund and Susan’s court, this wheeling and dealing, the way money and power spoke louder than truth. She refused to curb herself, refused to play the games of little lies and small concessions, but she did learn how to insert herself into places where her words, her truths, would be heard.

She became a well-known name in the world of human rights, civil rights, people rights. She aligned herself with groups and charities and people who were willing to fight for those things, even if it wasn’t all of them. She learned how dropping the right name could get her into the same areas as influential people, and she learned that just looking like you have money made people listen to you.

There were precious few people who agreed with her on most things, and none yet that agreed with her on everything, but she refused to give up. She travelled the world, saw amazing places, met amazing people, and came back to England with their stories on her tongue and a fierce longing for her true home in her heart.

When the invitation to a fundraiser at Pemberley came, Lucy went, because she never missed a chance to pour her words into the ears of the affluent and influential. The Darcys were old money, and even higher up on the social ladder than Susan’s new family-in-law, but Lucy had been a Queen once, and she forced them to make space for her; a middle-class woman from Finchley with delusions of influence.

It was a surprisingly productive evening, even if Lucy did have to threaten one politician with a knife to get him to back off and stop patronising her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in romance, it was just that most of the men who were interested in her wanted things she couldn’t give them. Things like marriage and children.

Peter and Susan didn’t understand. They’d lost a lot when they left Narnia, but they hadn’t lost what Lucy had. They understood her grief, of course, but they still expected her to get over it, eventually, to move on and build a new life here. Well, she was doing, she just couldn’t bring herself to walk the same paths she had in Narnia. She thought Edmund understood, even if he had adopted Underland as his new Narnia and managed to build so much of what he’d had before with new people in that new place.

Lucy couldn’t.

When the ache got too much, she slipped out of the house, away from the party, and into the woods. They were beautiful, more wild than she often saw in England, and Lucy wanted to cry. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was back in Narnia, a warm midsummer night with the dryads and the fauns revelling in the dark.

She kicked off her shoes without hesitation, not caring where they fell, and let her toes wiggle into the dew-damp grass. The grass was cold, but the soil beneath was warm under her feet, and she let go of the weight of her worries for a moment, and just danced. Broken twigs and chipped pebbles bit at her feet, but she didn’t care. Once upon a time her feet had been toughened by how often she ran barefoot through the woods, and even though she couldn’t manage it here, she wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that all that time, those thousand years that had spirited her family away from her were gone.

“Oh!”

Lucy spun to a stop, staring at the young man standing between the trees, staring at her in shock. She recognised him from the party, but couldn’t place him right away. One of the Darcy children, she thought. He did have the look of his father, all olive skin and dark curly hair. “Hello.” She greeted, because even if she’d wanted to be alone, she wasn’t going to be rude.

The man blinked at her, and then let out a breath that was caught somewhere between a sigh of relief and an incredulous laugh. “Hello. Sorry. For a moment there, I thought I’d stumbled across a fairy ring and that you were some sort of spirit of the woods or something.” He admitted with another little self-deprecating laugh.

Lucy beamed, more flattered than he’d expected her to be. More flattered than she’d expected to be. “Who says I’m not?” She challenged.

The man tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I suppose you could be. I just wouldn’t have expected a nymph to just say hello to an intruder like that.” He pointed out. “…Although I can’t imagine what they would do…”

“Well, it depends what they want, doesn’t it?” Lucy countered, stepping closer to see him better in the gloom of the forest at dusk. His eyes went a little wide at her approach, but he didn’t retreat, so Lucy dared to step close enough for a polite conversation. “If I just wanted to dance alone in the moonlight, I might have run, or told you to leave. But if I want company, the polite thing to do is to say hello.”

He nodded, opened his mouth, and closed it again. “That does make sense. Although it’s hard to imagine some fey creature wanting the company of humans, except for nefarious purposes.” He mused, shifting from foot to foot like he was uncomfortable, but there was also a crooked little smile tugging hopefully at the corner of his mouth, like he wanted to invite Lucy to share the joke.

And Lucy did, maybe more than he meant her to, because, well, she knew nymphs, and she knew just how ‘nefarious’ most people here would consider their purpose on a midsummer night. She laughed, giggled into her hand. “Maybe my purposes are nefarious.” She teased. “Maybe I’m dancing out here to lure some pretty young thing into the woods for a different kind of dance.”

His eyes went huge. “…Okay.”

The word came out breathless and awed and nervous, and Lucy took the invitation without a second thought, stepping into his space and leaning up to kiss him, just as he started to say something else. “I m-” Lucy drew back and raised her eyebrows at him. He just stared for a long moment. “I- I mean- Really?” He checked.

“Of course, really.” Lucy assured him. “Unless you don’t want to. I don’t mind.” She added, gently, because there were all those silly expectations and unspoken rules here, and she had no idea if he even knew whether he wanted to or not.

“I- I do, I just… don’t-” He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. “I never- Everyone always expected-”

“Expected more from you than you wanted to give?” Lucy supplied, in a moment of clarity and painful empathy with him. “They expect it to mean something so much more than just people being together and touching each other because it feels good?”

He was looking at her with wonder again. “Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly.” Lucy smiled, and kissed him again. This time, he kissed back, and Lucy tugged and twisted at his shirt until she had him backed up against one of the trees. She could imagine how the dryad would giggle, would wrap her arms around the pair of them, would lower her lips to his neck or whisper wicked things in his ear. They parted for breath, and Lucy diverted her attention to freeing his neck from the confines of his collar.

His hands slid up her sides, his touch cautious and uncertain. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” He admitted on an exhilarated breath.

“That’s okay.” Lucy murmured, even as his words pulled on the memory of her own mouth forming words so much alike, and the reassurance her dear, dear friend had murmured to her. The words she’d needed, the words that had started them down a path they’d planned to walk side-by-side forever. But instead of hurting, like reminders of him so often did, it felt strangely right, as though he was right behind her, too, his arms around the both of them, a smile on his lips and a light in his eyes as he said, in tandem with her; “We can figure it out together.”

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dukeofishgard · 5 years

Text

#FFxivWrite2019 Prompt #2 - Bargain

i’m 2 for 2! hurray! however I only managed (1) day before I immediately went back on my angst bullshit.

thank you again @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for this challenge!

so this is something that I’ve always head cannoned as happening but never actually wrote out. this prompt made perfect sense for it however so I finally decided to actually write it out. I was actually pretty excited to do so, as this is the catalyst for Duke being cursed- and also the explanation behind his white hair.

Takes place roughly thousand years ago, pre-curse and before Duke was ever called “The Duke of Ishgard.”

All that being said, under a cut because!

TW/CW: Abuse, Suicide mention.

The Bellefleur manor fell silent as dawn arose, it’s halls silent after the night of chaos that had erupted upon the return of it’s Lady the night prior.

Blood painted the walls of the master bedroom, furniture broken and cracked, strands of matted black hair stuck to bloodied scissors that had been stabbed into the door, leaving splintered wood in its wake.

Despite all this, the Lady of the House lay peacefully in bed a self-satisfied smirk gracing her sleeping face even as she was surrounded by the feathers torn from the bed and pillows, and her fingers bore the telltale signs of blood beneath the nails.

In the room opposite, the Lord of the House stood in front of a cracked mirror, staring at his bloodied reflection with eerie quietness, gazing upon his visage without a hint of emotion as he began to dress himself. His fingers shook as he wiped at the blood coating his lips, poking gently at the bruises and punctured skin on his neck from the Lady’s fingers. Red eyes surveyed his broken and battered face, gently tracing the bruised skin that blossomed into petals across his cheeks that bore the streaks of his tears cried the night before.

A knock drew him out of his reverie, and he winced as he turned his head stiffly towards the sound feeling the ache run through his body, “Enter.”

The manservant trembled as he carefully opened the door, eyes closed as he took in an apprehensive breath before sliding into the room and dipping into a bow, “Milord-” he stopped as he drew upward- eyes opening to see the state of the Lord before him, “My…. My Lord! Your… your hair…”

The Lord stared at him with weary eyes- framed not by the raven locks the famed son of House Bellefleur was known for but by shocking white jagged strands of hair with nary a single strand of black to be seen- though the servant’s eyes stared in horror at what could only be dried and cracked blood clinging to the man’s now whitened hair.

“Be at ease Ofrault ,” he said quietly, his voice echoing the fatigue written across his face, “I can still very well see. I know what has befallen me…”

He turned again to look into the mirror, uttering a laugh that shook Ofrault to his bones, a laugh he would later describe as the laugh of death itself made manifest.

“Tis what the chirurgeons would likely diagnose as shock,” he finally said as the laughter died away, “The Lady Antoinette took me by surprise is all. I am fine.”

“My Lord Lucien,” Ofrault lowered his voice, furtively glancing across the hall before quickly shutting the door behind him, “Milord, I beg your pardon for speaking out of my place but this has simply gone on for far too long. We have all kept quiet for your sake and pride but please milord, we are worried for both you and the little lady and lordling.”

Lucien Bellefleur turned to look at him, Ofrault taking a step back at the deadened eyes that made his blood run cold, “You are right,” he said simply, “It has and now I end it, one way or another.”

--- The Lady Antoinette sat smugly at the head of the table, icy eyes staring at the maids lips curled into a cold smirk as they began to lay out the breakfast before her. Long fingernails tapped the wood impatiently as she stared at the door, awaiting her husband’s arrival to the dining hall.

The door opened slowly, bringing first Ofrault in who bowed deeply before speaking, “The Lord Lucien-” his voice was quiet as he moved to the side, allowing Lucien to walk in- stopping just short of his chair on the opposite end of the table of Antoinette.

“You may leave Ofrault,” he said softly eyes staying trained upon his wife across the room, “Please ensure Minette and Alitte take all their meals in their own quarters and have all their food tested for any unpleasant additions. Their lessons are canceled for today. Please let them know their guards will be doubled for the foreseeable future and they are to take no guests save for myself.”

“My lord-”

“The Lady Antoinette in particular is not to be allowed into their apartments,” his gaze did not move from the dark-haired woman even as her face twisted into anger, hands balling into fists, “Even if she says I have given permission, she is to be denied. If she raises issue she is to be arrested on the spot. If she resists…”

“If I resist?” her lips curled into a cruel sneer, voice full of mockery, “Whatever shall you do to me, your wife, my Lucien?”

“If she resists she is to be killed.” he responded as he swiftly sat in his seat, eyes watching her carefully as her face went blank in shock, staring at him with unease, “You may leave Ofrault. Let the House know of my orders and tell them we are not to be disturbed during our meal.”

Ofrault stared between the two, finding his throat bereft of any moisture before nodding quickly, “Y- Yes my lord. At once. Please… please enjoy your meal.”

As the door shut with a bang, Antoinette blinked, coming out of her shocked reverie- eyes slitted as she watched Lucien begin to quietly cut his food up, “You would have me killed?” she whispered, voice full of venom, “Do you really think you could?”

Crimson red eyes lifted to meet her icy sapphires as he set his fork down- keeping his knife tightly grasped in his other hand, “Yes.” he said simply, “You are a murderer, deranged and lost. You are lucky I do not call the Heavens Ward right now or strike you down where you sit myself, Antoinette.”

She let out a shrill laugh, pointing a finger at him accusingly, “Your poor hairs gone white my love, did your senses go with it? I am no murderer- poor Etienne simply fell to his death and I did all that I could to help him but unfortunately Halone herself decreed him a filthy heretic,” she smirked, leaning back in her seat before giving him an innocent look, “Is all I need to say before any Inquisitors to allow them to set me free.”

“You are right…” he said softly, “Attempting to kill you or bring you to justice would result only in more pain…”

“Ah… now you finally see reason my love,” she cooed, pushing herself from the table- moving to stand beside him, trailing her fingers down his bruised and cut face, “I knew I would get through to you… even if I had to get rid of all obstacles in our way.”

He smiled at her, bringing a hand up to brush her cheek with uncharacteristic softness before his fingers twisted in the fabric of her collar, pulling her down close enough to feel his breath against her skin. His other hand brought the knife up and for a brief moment panic seized her as she saw the metal glint in his hands- fingers moving to clutch at his face, uncaring as her nails once more dug into his skin, blood dripping down his face as though he were crying crimson. But she did not feel the sensation of cold metal against her throat- eyes widening as she saw where he placed it instead.

At his own throat.

“You are far too slippery to be killed or brought to justice, you monster,” he hissed- the eyes she had so loved for their warmth and love were gone and she felt seized with fear that she was not staring into the eyes of her angel- but that he had instead been replaced by a beast at it’s limits.

“L-Let go of me Lucien…”

“Tis my own fault,” he said softly, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, “I saw the signs but I believed, I believed, if I could love you enough Antoinette you would stop. Your darkened heart would brighten and this pain you inflict upon this world would cease, but I realize now that you have a sickness that no mortal could ever heal and there is nothing that can stop you in this world from gaining what you desire. Me. It’s me you want. Always me.”

“Yes… you…” She dug her nails further into his skin before releasing her grip, hand brushing down his cheek and smearing his blood as she stroked him gently, “Now you see why I had to kill him. You are the only one who can soothe me, my love. Please… take the knife away… I promise I will be good. We can begin our life anew again, just you and I-”

“You say it with such conviction, I could almost believe you speak the truth. But I know now that you simply say what you wish for me to hear and do as you please anyway. And so long as you live, you will view my children as threats to be removed to capture my full undivided attention. It is only a matter of time before you put them to the blade of your delusions,” His hand moved to the back of her head, fingers clutching at her hair as he pulled her in closer- noses touching and she watched horrified as she saw the knife dig into the flesh of his throat further, droplets of blood beginning to form on the metal, “So know this Antoinette. If you kill them, I will have nothing. You think you are what I live for? You are free to believe such delusions, but I assure you… if you kill Minette and Alitte, you forfeit your claim to my life. To make it crystal clear to you, Antoinette Sauvage- if you harm them, you harm me. You maim them in any way and I shall enact the same price upon myself. You kill them, and you shall come home to a corpse.”

He began to laugh then, making the blood in her veins turn to ice as she heard the underlying conviction in the sound, the look in his eyes reflecting unto her the same insanity she knew all too well- an insanity she saw every day in her reflection.

“You wouldn’t…” she breathed, “Are you truly bargaining for those pathetic wretches lives? A-And with your own life?! H...How are you! How dare you!”

She struggled against his hold finally, ripping herself away from him and clutching her hands against her chest as she stared at him- watching as he dropped the bloodied knife onto the table before picking up his napkin to wipe at the thin cut now etched on his throat.

“I am quite serious,” he said evenly, “And of sound mind. My parents are dead. You have murdered Etienne, the only person in this world I have ever truly loved. All I have now are my children. What purpose in life would I have if you killed them, Antoinette? None whatsoever. Now do you see the predicament you have put yourself in? You believed yourself to stack the cards in your favor but you have done nothing but dealt yourself a losing hand.”

“Me!” she screeched, hands moving to clutch at her dark hair as she let out a moan, shaking her head wildly, “ME! You live for me! Me and me alone! You cannot, no… you will not die- I won’t let you!”

Lucien shrugged, picking the knife up again and pointing it at her- uncaring as his blood dripped onto the table, “And yet you would be powerless to stop me,” he said, voice suddenly filled with resigned tiredness, “I bleed as any mortal man, as I think you know all too well from your outbursts. I cannot gain any revenge against you for murdering the man I love while I live, but perhaps in my death will he find peace with me.”

She let out another shriek, falling back against the wall as she stared at him in disbelief, “Be quiet!” The words came out in a hiss, “I will not let this come to pass! You belong to me, and me alone… If I must move the stars and heavens to prove this to you, then so be it. I will prove to you that you and I are the same soul torn asunder- that we are meant to be. I will never let you be with that disgusting demon again! Not in life, and never in death!”

She drew closer again now, cupping his face in her hands, nails reaching the top of his scalp where his now silver hair began, digging in and slowly dragging them down, leaving behind thin lines of blood on his skin as she spoke, “Enjoy your time with your precious pets while you still can,” she snarled at him, pulling away and delivering a sharp slap across his face- head turning from the force, he could only stare down at his forgotten breakfast, head buzzing unpleasantly as she spoke, “There is nothing in this world that shall stop me from having you, my angel, my Lucien. It is clear Etienne corrupted your purity before I could kill him. I shall remove your burdens and then… then you will understand.”

She stared at him, waiting to see if he would reply, but he simply continued to stare down at the table dully and wordlessly,- not even blinking as blood dripped into his eyes. With one final strangled scream, she departed from the dining room- slamming the door behind her.

As soon as she left, the Lord of the House crumpled against the table- arms curling up to cover his head as though he were a child again- fingers seizing the white strands of his hair and pulling at them incessantly in his grief as he sobbed in the now empty room.

#FFxivWrite2019 #holy moly this is longer than i thought lmfao #the duke #antoinette sauvage

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ddonggeun · 6 years

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Hey! So I’m suspecting if I got adhd/add but is there any symptom idk. It’s really exp here to get it diagnosed

sorry it took me a while to get back to you because honestly i dont know whats a good alternative for you can be so i guess i can share my own experience?

first of all i think googling symptoms and types of adhd and reading peoples account on how adhd/add manifest is a good start? my doctor and the reddit /r/adhd REALLY help me to accept myself (which is the first step i think) but the way i get diagnosis (i am adhd with predominately inattentiveness - but at the same time i have depressions and dyslexia which is like a killer combo 10/10 would never rec) is that i came across with an article a couple months about how girls with adhd are more likely to be (mis)diagnosed with depression and it basically fucks up multiple generations because they cant get the help they need and i was like wait whats describe in it sounds kind of like me but at the same time i have always been very lethargic and rather well behaved in class growing up i am nothing like what you would typically associate with adhd (you know the hyper-activeness) so during my next visit to the doctor (im getting treatment for my depression) i mention to the article to her and she said wait you know what describe how you feel in a classroom setting growing up and is there anything you do that teachers complain about repeatedly and tell me how studying and doing homework is like to you and so i did (i can go further into details of my life since a lot contributes to why i only get diagnosis when im 21… let me know if you would like to know i guess?)

my doctor (who just so happens to be an adhd specialist and is quite active in the research area i didnt know before then we stan forever i love her really she is so encouraging and so good at her job) took some notes as i was talking and after im done she said you know what i think you might be onto something but i cant be sure yet (since i have depression and dyslexia which both overlaps quite a lot with adhd/add) why dont i first explain to you what adhd is and i’ll give you the set of official diagnosis questions you dont have to do it just take a look at it first do some research organize your thought talk to your parents about it and if you think getting a test on it is something you want we can set up another appointment and we can go from there - which is really really nice because adhd has always been a taboo at least with my upbringing it makes you a loser socially academically and you know just in general its not something you will want to have….

in hind sight there are SO MANY SIGNS even in early childhood how come no one notice i dont know prolly because i grew up in the 00s if you are different you need to kys lmao rip:

trouble paying attention in school or work,

the appearance of not listening - although im an audio learner funny enough

avoidance of activities that require sustained focus,

being easily distracted

restlessness

fidgeting and cant sit properly - i shake my legs or click my pen so much especially when im thinking or anxious lmao, i got into trouble a lot when i was younger because i only sit in my seat facnig the teacher 5 mins max at at ime then i move around or i move the chair around i think better when i cross my legs but i went to a uniform school and i always make my skirt too short so you know

interrupting - if i dont say what comes to mind when it comes to mind, the thought is gone forever

frequent talking and talking way too fast - i get the exact same comment every single report day class from when i was 4 till i graduated high school im not even kidding “she has excellent comprehension skill and reading speed. it would be great if parents can help her out a bit in maths or chemistry. she has a lot of potential if she applies herself, she seems distracted although when we ask her questions she can answer. very helpful and bubbly and yet she talks too much in class. she is not disruptive and her seatmate never complains but she just doesnt stop talking. we have been pairing her up with quiet students in class in the hopes that she will talk less in class but she just turn the quiet student talkative”

trying to do multiple things at once - i cant do one thing at a time, even when im say writing a paper i need to be listening to music or talking to someone if not switching between tabs or word files

mood swings

hyperfocus - oh boy oh boy oh boy

impulsiveness - i dont know if i get better as i age or is it getting worse i just know how to clean up my mess lmaooooo

poor time management - although i would say ever since i start listening to stuff 24/7 it really helps build a sense of the passage of time or whatever? its like now i know ok by the time i get to the third song in the shower i need to be washing out my conditioner; or say i need to go somewhere in 40 mins which is really abstract to me i set timers and put on a show thats 35ish mins even tho im not watching it just so im aware of time is actually happening if it makes sense

fail to follow through - i start things and once i have it figure out in my head i struggle to put it down in words or explain it to others i work well with other adhd peps tho

doesnt follow instruction and only do stuff their way

burnout - this is the worst especially if you are a perfectionist or a control freak and guess who is both

trouble coping with stress -

i luck out because im canadian and my doctor (in my schools clinic) just so happens to be a specialist who is very passionate about helping undergrads and grad school students to achieve as much as they can - so doctor and diagnosis for me is free. i do have to pay for my medications out of my pocket for a bit since im on vyvanse (to treat both my adhd and depression-lead anxiety its complicated but it makes sense when my doctor explained it to me lol) and this drug isnt covered by Pharmacare (CAD $130ish for 3 weeks worth of 30mg, im mostly on 30mg but on days when i dont have work on stuff or go to school i take 20mg just so my anxiety dont cause me to explode lmao) and very expensive but recently my doctor and i have agreed that vyvanse really work for me and it is something that i should be on daily for the foreseeable future we applied for special authorization which means i only gotta pay the tax… of course medicating isnt a must but it is what works for me and we figure out a way to make it affordable so i cant be more happy about that

at the same time i work with my psychiatrist to you know configure the whole adhd thing cause you know 21 years of repressing and forcing your feet into a shoes that not even your size frick you up thats something people dont tell you 🤷🏻‍♀️

what my doctor said to me then stuck with me - she told me adhd or add really is no monster or flaw in fact it is a very valuable set of traits we inherit from our ancestor - we hate it now because modern society render these skills useless well you see adhd isnt all about the hyperactiveness you see in the media people with adhd are extra sensitive to their surrounding and prefer hands on experiences (today we call them distracted) they are always aware of the change around them and is capable to attend to a couple things at a time and act fast because their brains are always making sense of things even when they arent consciously doing it. in todays society we dont want these kind of people why? because they ask questions they are curious people who notice trivial stuff that dont contribute to productivity they cant sit still which makes them not the ideal factor workers or pupils BUT! you have to remember that industrialization started like a century ish ago before that our ancestors live in predominately tribal society - adhd people then are the perfect caretakers and protectors, why? because they are always noticing things they adapt and react fast… so yeah it kinda suck for us growing up in a system thats designed to be everything we are and it is something that need to be changed but for those of us who “made it out alive” especially people who only get diagnosed in adulthood more often than not they look back and realize they have developed so many incredible ways to cope to make things work - are they always the perfect way? are they always health? no definitely no but at the same time it shows you how incredible these people are they make things work yes things are really hard sometimes but you got to give yourself a pet in the shoulder for not giving up… with the help of science and research we now know a little more about how adhd affect people we now have medication and programs developed to help people with adhd - they arent to dumb you down or numb you but instead it helps you to focus better so you can actually hear your entire thought and not just phrases or sentence fragments

#i rambled but i hope my personal experience give u a slight idea of how adhd/add manifest in others? but like i said medicating is not the #only way i think talking to people with similar experiences is helpful too even tho they might not be able to offer you professional medical #advices not feeling alone or that you are a weirdo is so important people talk a lot of about how poor self image among adhd ppls are common #and i think the social pressure is def one of the things that make it worse #i dont know where you are but if you are still in school #i guess talking to a trusted teacher or like social worker would be a good start they might be able to point you to more local and accessibl #resources.... and i mean you can always talk to me im very new to the whole actively combating adhd and not just cope with it but you know #sometimes you just need someone to hear you rant about stuff and im always here... i might not be able to reply fast since im in my last #semester 😳 and school is killing me lmao but ill try to response as soon as i see it :)))#ask #anon

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angstymarshmallow · 6 years

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“The Mismatched Trio” - (Part 7 of Fantasy AU, A TRR Fanfic)

[A little note: I’m beginning to realize this story may end up being longer waaay longer than I thought. Mostly because it’s been fun exploring a universe in a fantasy setting with some of my favourite characters. Here’s part 7 - a little R&R for our heroes may do them some good. Thanks for keeping up so far if you’ve been keeping an eye out for this, hope you enjoy :)].

[Summary: When Drake, Robyn (MC) and Maxwell find a place to regroup, relaxing for a moment is on most of their minds. However, their circumstances may turn out to be far more dire than they realize.]

Part 1: “The Beginning” Part 2: “The Adventurer” Part 3: “The Knight” Part 4: “The Jester” Part 5: “The Untimely Meeting” Part 6: “The Unlikely Alliance”

The trio did not last very long before finding themselves at an impasse.

It was only after their journey had taken them a few miles east before realization had finally began dawning on them, striking their budding enthusiasm. Working together was far easier in a moment of begrudging solidarity than it would be within the foreseeable future; for people who felt and seemed quite so different from one another.

Further east they were able to find affordable horses and their travels led them to a trading post. It was small and more than that it was poor, at least to Maxwell’s standards. Although it stood stretching a few feet higher than them, with a deep dark mahogany – the gloss it once had was long gone and all of its windows appeared cracked; some had no windows at all. And its security was laughable – a middle aged man, half asleep and braced against the entrance in mismatched clothes.

Despite Maxwell’s protests, Drake was adamant in stopping to rest for the remainder of the night.

It hadn’t been what Drake expected either. The place was an in between, a trading port for a lot of people whom passed by. Yet unlike his companions, he didn’t care.

As his eyes skimmed the tall tress that met above the structure’s shabby roof, the rest of the forest fanned behind it. From the information Robyn passed along, it was a place where people traded and met for drinks as well as gossip.

The wooden floorboards creaked with some effort as soon as they entered, each shifting their feet and glancing at their surroundings while all eyes turned towards them. The lot of them seemed like people passing by; strapped in gear while others barely had enough covering them and were slumped fast-asleep in corners. Yet it was the curious glances that gave them a slight pause.

They knew what they looked like. A mismatched set because they did not quite belong.

Robyn’s clothes had turned from its bright red to a dark crimson; stained by blood and dirt. Her hair never looked any wilder; tendrils of curls that stuck at ends with each other. Parts of Drake’s hair was mussed too; plastered by his forehead and his clothes were torn in places that he didn’t entertain with much of a second thought until his thumbs begun poking itself through the holes. Nearly no hair out of place, Maxwell had been the only one that seemed almost untouched by what they had already been through.

Some of the curious gazes turned downright hostile until Robyn scrambled scantily through middle, straightening her spine and grinning from ear-to-ear.

“We need a room, if you’ve got any to spare.”

“Robyn!” The innkeeper recognized her after a few glances at their disgruntled appearance. He grinned. Half of his teeth were missing as she exchanged pleasantries.

Maxwell inched a little closer to Drake at the gesture. He was keenly aware of the looks they received as he whispered to him. “I don’t feel very safe here.”

Drake ignored him.

“Business been barely keepin’ me afloat.” The older man harrumphed, folding his beefy arms. “I don’t think I’ll have enough for ye tonight.” He jerked his chin at the men behind her.

“Aww Balfey, you’re breaking my heart.” She patted her chest for emphasis, “it’s me we’re talking about here.” She extended her arms wide, “you know I’m always good for it.”

Drake and Maxwell shifted on their feet uncomfortably behind her; neither of them wanting to interrupt but with Drake’s growing impatience came little reasons for wanting to stay.

The man’s forehead creased. He scratched his beard as his eyes skimmed the three of them again. “Aye, I think I can do somethin’. One room you said?”

“Well actually three would be the most optimal –” Maxwell wanted at least some comforts, however with the passing glare he received from Robyn, his mouth snapped shut.

“That’s more enough for us.” She dropped several coins in front of Balfey. “We’ll make do.”

“Aye, then we can make the room.” His grin was back, giving them a full view of his teeth.

“Wonderful!” She deposited a few extra pieces of gold. “And pint of ale for my companions,” Noticing the stares hadn’t all disappeared, she gestured towards them, “and to all my friends in this bar!” She cheered.

The silence broke. Immediately nearly everyone within the crowd had harrumphed, cheering and sticking their hands in the air.

Maxwell clapped his hands; seeming delighted by the turn of events while Drake had grumbled something about wasting resources before the innkeeper ushered the three towards a more private seating.

Robyn sat first, letting her head fall back followed by Maxwell.

They both looked exhausted.

“Did you really have to do that?” Drake took his seat, and said the words before he could think better of it.

Robyn smirked. “You clearly don’t know how things work outside the little kingdom of yours.” She tapped her temple. “Everyone in this bar was planning to rob us up until a second ago,” she nodded her chin subtlety in a particular spot – where Drake’s eyes widened at the sight of a crowd of people with swords glinting underneath their table.

How in heavens had he missed them?

“So yes, you’re welcome.”

Ignoring her, Drake cautiously swept the rest of the room; his eyes looking for anything out of the ordinary. Unlike them, he couldn’t rest until he knew there out of danger. And knowing the men they had the unfortunate-ness of meeting earlier could be on their tail – he didn’t believe they would remain safe for long.

“Are you capable of relaxing…for even a second?” Robyn asked, leaning over the table to glance at him.

Drake bristled at her off-handed comment. “Relaxing is how we’ll end up dead.” He brusquely muttered; brushing off all and any attempts at conversing with her any further. Maxwell may have hired her but that didn’t mean he had to waste anytime acknowledging her in any sense of the word.

“Is he always this rude?” Robyn inquired to Maxwell.

Drake had managed to hold his tongue, despite feeling a flare of irritation at her words.

“I’m afraid so.” Maxwell responded shrugging, “at least he has been since the day we’ve met. Years later and no matter how long we’ve known each other, he’s barely changed.”

“And how long have you two known each other?” Interest piqued, Robyn rested her elbows on the table. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

As Maxwell mouth slid open to respond, Drake interjected. His voice was almost cutting as he spoke. “Long enough that Maxwell should know better than to speak of me as though I am not in this very room.”

The nobleman winced, casting an apologetic glance at his friend. “Sorry. It’s just the lady asked a question –”

“She is no lady.”

Robyn stiffened in her seat; hating the way he spat the words at her. As though she was something at the bottom of his boots instead of a person. If this was how likely she would be treated working with him – she suddenly didn’t know if there were enough coins in the world for her to stomach this. “Listen,” she interrupted; her eyes shining a little of an amber glow as he reluctantly turned to her. “If we’re going to be working together, you can’t be insulting me at every turn.” She said thinly, lips pursing into a frown. “I expect you to act cordial – you are a knight after all, are you not? Aren’t you capable of such things?”

Drake bit back his smart retort before it could spill from his lips. She had a point. They were working together; not that he had a say in it to begin with. Still, if she thought he would trust her – she was surely mistaken. “I don’t trust you.”

“And you don’t have to.” Robyn responded tartly, dropping her hands to her lap.

“Pardon me,” Maxwell looped his arm around Drake’s shoulders. “But I think the lady has a point. She’s done nothing to earn this sort of…brutish behaviour.

Drake scowled.

Maxwell quickly hurried on. “And I’ve hired her to do a job.” With every word, he could feel his temper – as rare as it was, igniting as Drake refused to acknowledge him while he shrugged off his touch. “A job she can’t very well do while you’re being a bit of an ass to her at every turn, now can she?”

Robyn smiled timidly at him. “Thank you, Maxwell.” She was surprised by how quickly he took her side; especially considering she was a mere stranger. She supposed it could have just been his way. He did seem to her as the type of person that had no difficulty making friends wherever he went.

Feeling a little out numbered, Drake’s shoulders slumped slightly. He hated to admit when he was wrong. While she did save his life – that wasn’t a reason to trust her - not from where he was standing. Jaw clenching, he muttered. “I suppose you’re right.”

Grinning Maxwell slapped his back. “Wonderful!”

“Although,” He continued, scowling until Maxwell had placed some considerable distance between them. “It begs to question, what exact skills do you bring to the table?”

“Other than magic you mean?” Robyn quirked her eyebrows up in surprise that he was addressing her directly.

He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “I can’t remember everything we discussed last night,” He frowned faintly; annoyed that some of the night had remained stubbornly a blur even with how long he thought about it.

Drinking was a very stupid idea.

“But I imagine there must be something you’re bringing to the table. Something why Maxwell feels so convinced to hire you.” Unless it’s completely based on her physical appearance and even on that he could understand – Drake blanched and perished the rest of the stray thought. He hadn’t known where it even came from.

He could almost see the wheels turning as she tilted her chin to stare at him. “You’ll need a guide.” She stated a-matter-of-factly, “a lot of the surrounding cities are pretty familiar to me.” She begun, tapping her fingers against the table. “I’m also good at finding things that need finding.”

He couldn’t hide his disbelief. “…Are you implying that you’ve got no trouble stealing when necessary?”

“Like I said,” she repeated; slower this time as though he was having trouble understanding the common tongue. “I’m very good at finding things that need finding.”

Drake turned to Maxwell and scrutinized the man that had been staring at her in almost – awe. “You hired a crook Maxwell.” His tone was deadpanned.

“Nonsense,” Maxwell protested, “I hired someone that will be quite useful, maybe in ways we haven’t even thought of yet.” He grinned, “she does seem to know everything quite well so far.”

Drake grumbled at that.

“We’d be fools not to take advantage of an adveturer’s help. We’ve never been outside of Cordonia until now.” He nodded emphatically, “that’s more than enough reason for us to believe her.”

“That’s debatable,” Drake folded his arms.

“Look – your skepticism makes sense.” Robyn shrugged her slender shoulders. “You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But what I do possess is knowledge and knowledge over ignorance makes sense. I am useful.” She jerked her chin, “try me – where are we off to next?”

Drake was still having trouble thinking of her as apart of we when the innkeeper delivered their round of drinks. After another quick inspection, he silently withdrew a map he had taken with him from the kingdom from his burlap sack. It was a little old and worn out with a twinge of yellow to it as he tried to smoothen the creases across half their table.

He ignored Maxwell and Robyn clinking pints as his broad fingers traced over its texture. His fingers followed the edge of nearly half the towns and cities along their path; cutting off some for the safer more rural areas where he was committed rationing their food would ensure their survival before stopping at path where all the snowy mountains of Tyiht Highlands met.

Yet he couldn’t celebrate. Not yet. The infuriating woman across from him kept interrupting; disagreeing with several of his ideas. She shook her head and even snorted once he begun pointing out a second time the places they needed to avoid and where they shouldn’t.

“This is a little silly,” Her eyebrows pinched once he reluctantly lifted his stare from the map.

Leaning over the wooden table, she traced her own fingers across one of the rivers not far off from the next town over. “It would be much faster to go through this path, instead of through the town.”

“Yes, if you wanted to be robbed by bandits.” Drake curled his lips as she touched his map, “we don’t know what really lies north east of here.” As he spoke, he shifted to angle himself towards Maxwell, nearly cutting Robyn from their conversation. “It is better we stay upon the path Maxwell and I agreed on when we left Corodnia.”

Robyn raised a single brow. “Actually, you’re wrong.”

His eyes flickered up in surprise by her bleak statement.

“Instead of asking me which is of course – what any normal person would do,” she adopted a more deeper tone; poorly mimicking Drake’s low timber until Maxwell laughed. “–Robyn do you know anything about the river cutting across the forest just northeast of here?”

Drake remained stubbornly silent.

Robyn huffed a breath. “…..You could have asked the obvious.” She tilted her chin, eyes glittering with a dull amber. She waited a beat, hoping he would break the silence first. When he didn’t, she sighed. “But you aren’t going to ask me, are you?”

“I will!” Maxwell cut the tension in half with his amiable attitude; smiling endearingly at both of them. He moved an inch closer. “Do you know the forest well, lady Robyn?”

“Yes.” She paused. “To a certain degree anyway. I have been through Gitab Woods more times than I can count on my fingers.” She admitted, wiggling her fingers with a grin.

“Really? Any interesting stories?”

A shadow passed over her face then disappeared quick enough that the knight thought he had imagined seeing it. “Quite, but that isn’t important right now. The river is…somewhat riskier although it isn’t because of bandits.”

“Then praytell – what else is wrong?” Drake’s lifted a sardonic brow.

“This map you’ve got here is no good. It’s a little too old, very out of date.” Robyn smirked as she saw him stiffen. Leaning over, she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, “may I?”

At his curt nod, she traced over several little towns. “A lot of these have become one territory, ran by a man that thinks himself a ‘conqueror of the new world’.” She motioned with her fingers and Maxwell laughed. “So, avoiding here entirely is impossible now that they all belong to him.”

This was new, Drake hadn’t heard of such a thing. He looked to Maxwell for confirmation; knowing the man cared for politics but even he looked distressed.

“This must be very new.” Maxwell frowned lightly, “I hadn’t heard of this at all the last time I was at court.”

“That’s because it is. In the past couple months, he’s managed to gather and hire enough of an army to take control of several little towns.”

Drake was starting to lose his patience, “I fail to see why we should care.”

“Because Sir Drake, after thinking it over with our kidnappers earlier, I noticed a couple things in their wagon that…seemed familiar. You said they were mercenaries, right?”

‘Yes, I could tell by the armor they carried and their swords….they simply do not belong to anyone, not that I know of anyway.” Drake mulled over his own thoughts. He had automatically assumed the mercenaries had to do with what was happening in Cordonia, he didn’t entertain the idea that it could be more.

“Is there a chance that they’re working for him – to conquer Willesden next?”

“No.” He shared a frown with Maxwell.

“Willesden is still a free town right?” Maxwell spoke up, leaning forward. “Or has that changed too?”

“Yes, you’re right it still is. But y’know, I visit places.” Robyn shrugged, “gossip can be a powerful too. Perhaps he’s making a move for power here too and he hired them to do it.”

“But why would they come after us – specifically.” Drake interrupted, “that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It would if he’s working against you.” Robyn corrected.

“Why would he work against us? We’re just passing by.” Although, the more they spoke of him – the more, Maxwell had a feeling deep down that it was somehow all connected. Call it his oracle gut – but even the thought they were unrelated; a simple mere coincidence seemed ridiculous.

Robyn tugged her cloak, her eyes shifting to ensure no one could overhear them. “That’s because his name is Neville Vancoeur.” She waited a beat until realization finally sunk in and Drake had nearly bolted from his seat.

“Of The Vancoeurs?” Maxwell uttered in complete disbelief. “The ones we banished after the war?”

“The very same ones,” Robyn nodded grimly. “The first time you mentioned you were from Cordonia I didn’t think anything of it, but after being stuck in the wagon together – something kept tickling my brain.”

“So, Neville is alive.” Drake said between gritted teeth.

Robyn was surprised by his reaction. It was the most she had ever seen from him. “I’ve actually met himself,” She mumbled, “he’s actually quite chatty when he’s drunk.”

“You tried to rob him too?” He would have laughed, had he not still been recovering from shock.

“Tried and failed,” She snorted. “The man’s security borders on paranoia. But that wasn’t what caught me. I was completely surprised that a man of his title is a mage.”

Both Drake and Maxwell shared a glance. “I can’t imagine anyone following him if they knew he was a mage. It must be something he’s kept a secret.”

“And you can imagine my surprise when he nearly blasted my head off. I almost died trying to get away.”

“Perhaps you should take this as a lesson Lady Robyn. Maybe a change in lifestyle?”

“The Vancoeurs had very little when King Constantine had cut most of their family down,” Drake explained, unperturbed by Maxwell’s concern. “They were accused of using magic to try and assassinate the King near the end of the war.”

Robyn’s eyes widened.

Maxwell tried to reassure her, “don’t worry. People have often tried to assassinate the crown.”

“…is that supposed to make this any better?” She blinked, “it’s people like this that gives the rest of us mages a bad name.” She huffed, folding her arms.

Drake wanted to mention that being mage was the reason but felt deterred by the sudden look of disgust on her face before he continued. “Originally they were all to be put to death as one of the King’s last orders. But the instead of killing their entire lineage, the king had listened to the prince’s plea for mercy. Neville and his parents were among some of the spared.”

“Nearly everyone with magic in their bloodline died that night.” Maxwell said, wetting his lips.

That night the streets ran with blood. He remembered his younger self; shaking like a leaf and being terrified of King Constantine’s decision. He remembered holding onto his brother’s hand tightly, squeezing his eyes closed while their father was burnt alive in front of them.

It had been more than terrifying – he thought it was the end. Shaking his head clear, he tried to push the memories back. Robyn had been watching his reaction and he smiled with some effort. “But to think…Neville was right under our noses this entire time…” He trailed off for a moment, wondering how the other nobleman had managed to survive.

“Well not quite,” Robyn interrupted his thoughts. She circled with her fingers the towns that were just after Gitab Woods.

“We should do something.” Maxwell announced suddenly.

“Pardon? And what would you have us do?” Drake shot him a glare. “Stop by and say hello?!”

“Well, yes we could for starters.” Maxwell hesitated, “but that isn’t what I meant.” He glanced timidly at Robyn, “how has Neville been…ruling?” His face twisted, “even saying it feels wrong.”

“Terribly, have you seen this trading post? That’s nothing compared to some of the other towns. He takes nearly eighty percent of the profits for himself.” She curled her lip in disdain. “I’ve never met a man so in-love with himself before.”

“I knew there was a reason I never liked the man.” Maxwell shook his head, “selfish. Absolutely selfish.” He turned to the knight, who seemed lost in thought. “Drake we should –”

“No.” He interrupted, his tone nearly flat.

“No?” Maxwell repeated, simply staring at him. “But why in heavens not?”

“Because,” Drake made a noise of annoyance before the nobleman could protest. “That is not apart of why we’re here.” He said impatiently.

“But these people –”

“- will just have to find a way. Whether that means listening to Neville or not isn’t our concern.” He dropped his tone for a moment and every word was measured, careful. “We are not here to fix anyone else’s problems Maxwell. We must fix our own.” He thought he had made it very clear this discussion was finished, but Maxwell was shaking his head and Drake watched as his hands started shaking.

“You would leave these people, who are clearly in need of our help defenseless?” He blinked up at him, shocked and angry. They both mingled together within his heated stare. “That is not the Drake I know.”

“You do not know me at all.” Drake’s tone had lost all flatness and had dipped right into unfriendly.

“Yes, I do.” Maxwell said insistently, throwing his hands up in the air. “But it appears thinking you were a good man despite your edges and callousness was my mistake.”

“Uh gentlemen…” Robyn sat straighter in her seat, noticing the odd looks and stares they were beginning to get from other people. If they weren’t careful they were going to draw attention – attention they didn’t need if they wanted to leave in one piece tomorrow.

Even Balfey looked concerned.

“Perhaps this isn’t the right moment for a discussion like this…” Robyn offered, although she knew glancing between them that it wouldn’t matter what she said to say. They seemed too angry – with their fists clenched at their sides and a snarl on the taller of the twos lips.

“You know nothing.” Drake sneered. He slammed a tight fist on the table between them. “You and the rest of the nobles spent so much time with your heads up in your arses; looking down at anyone that never meets your standards – ”

“That is not true!” Maxwell’s usual cheerfulness disappeared and was replaced by a burning intensity in his eyes that has set warning bells inside Robyn’s head. “You’ve never given anyone the chance. Unlike your sister who –”

“Don’t you dare talk about her.” Drake had gone completely still and every word he spoke sounded threatening, felt as though he was ready at any moment to throttle the man. “Not one more word Maxwell.”

They stared at each other, locked in a silent battle of wills until Robyn cleared her throat. Her voice was tight as she broke the silence, “whatever issues you two need to work through, I do strongly suggest doing so in private.” She nodded towards several onlookers, staring down at a few in particular until they looked away.

Sniffing, Maxwell excused himself first. Mumbling his apologies to Robyn, he stormed to Balfey before flitting off towards the wooden hall.

The table fell in silence once again. Drake slumped back inside the stool, heaving a sigh. He raked his fingers through his unruly hair. He swore.

Glancing down at the man in front of her, Robyn knew the smarter thing to do was to leave him alone, to deal with whatever it was that had been eating him. She should not be poking herself in their business, and yet as unsettled as it felt moments ago – she couldn’t simply walk away. “You know, he didn’t mean to upset you.”

The man in front of her did not answer. He simply groaned, covering his face with his hands as he uttered another curse foul enough to make her cheeks blush.

She bent forward. “He was only trying to help. Do the right thing, or at least what he thinks is the right thing anyway.”

“I know.” He muttered in his hands. “I know Maxwell has a good heart. But a good heart sometimes will get you killed.”

“Speaking from experience, are we?” She meant it as a joke, misplaced humor to lighten the mood but the knight had glanced up to glare at her.

“Who hasn’t lost ever lost someone.”

His words nearly sobered her up instantly. “Is that the sister you mentioned earlier. Because if it is –”

“My sister,” he emphasized the word sister making her flinch, “is not up for discussion with anyone, especially not you.” He interjected thinly, lips forming a scowl.

“Fine!” Robyn cried out in exasperation, throwing her hands up in the air. “Forget I said anything. I don’t know what came over me anyway.” She grumbled, sliding from off her stool. “I should be spending the rest of my night with someone that won’t be so quick to dismiss me with every breath they breathe –” she was almost a reasonable distance away when she suddenly whirled back to him.

And it was the abrupt glance of loneliness that flashed in his expression which gave her pause. It made her hesitate and her anger was nearly forgotten. She didn’t know this man, she couldn’t imagine him being easy to know but something in the way he was looking at her made her think he was lost. He was lost and he didn’t want anyone to know it.

“Have a good night Sir Drake.”

Drake’s lips twisted, but it was not into the frown she had anticipated. It was a small fraction of a smile and it nearly took her breath away; how one slight change had made such a difference to his face. “Have a good night.”

Robyn had jerked upright in bed, driven out of her dreams by the sound of harsh gasps coming from within the room. Gasps that had almost become screams the longer she laid there, and as her eyes scrambled to make sense of her surroundings – she noticed they were not all present. Maxwell was nowhere to be seen and she froze once her eyes landed on the knight – laying on the floor with his blanket twisted around his body.

His hair looked half-drenched in sweat and he was mumbling something under his breath. It was too low to make out from where she stood and as she slid from off the bed, he grew louder – more frenzied. His hands were clenched so tight that they were ghastly pale.

“…Drake?” She called out uncertainly. She took cautionary steps towards him; careful in keeping her voice low – gentle, despite the rising panic coming from him.

“No, no, let them go.” One of his hands reached for his neck. His fingers tearing into his flesh as his anguished cries reaching into nearly a scream when she dropped to her knees. The blanket slid to his chest as his body begun trembling.

“Hey!” She tried to reach for his hand.

The second she did, Drake’s eyes had flown open and he wrestled until he was on top of her; his hand drawing to the dagger she kept by her waist. He hovered it near her throat. His eyes were wild; a mixture of pain and fear twisted altogether as they stared up at her.

Her nerves fluttered. Her breathing became labored but she knew it was important for her to remain still. To be quiet. She had seen panic attacks before, but never this severe. “You’re alright. You’re safe.” She was surprised by how soft her voice was, or that she hadn’t felt afraid.

Seconds passed between them before Drake dropped his hand, and the dagger fell beside them. “I’m sorry,” a look of horror flitted across his face. “I hadn’t meant to, it was just – ”

“I know.” The words were nearly a gentle caress. “You didn’t hurt me, see?” She hadn’t anticipated her pulse to jump or to feel tiny hairs on her skin to revel in excitement as she brought his hand to rest by her neck. But it did, and the sudden warmth filling her made her gasp.

Drake knew what it was now that had struck him last night when Maxwell and Robyn had been flirting. It was jealously – plain and simple; as shocking as it had been to fill his system, it was nothing compared to how dumbfounded he felt now as his fingers touched her neck. He had done so with the intention of making sure he hadn’t heart her; and his concern had struck him uncomfortably as did how much he enjoyed touching her. And without thinking he allowed them to skim down her throat, watching in fascination as her pulse jumped.

Her eyes were lightly glowing; a dull amber-gold he was becoming accustomed to seeing whenever her emotions were intense. And he wondered for a moment – if they had anything to with his curious fingers drawing patterns across her skin, or the sudden dull roar of his heart beating faster than he thought possible.

His throat went dry.

Her eyes didn’t waver from his as she moved slightly, leaning into him until he could feel her breath.

Their room door was suddenly flung open and Drake jerked back, flinching before they both managed to disentangle themselves from each other.

“Guys! Guys!” Maxwell’s hair was a mess, although he was mostly dressed; with his hand braced on the weapon by his hip. He didn’t seem to read the mood’s atmosphere as Robyn smoothened out the pleats of her skirts.

Drake wanted to snap at him, however as he heard the panic in his voice and saw the fear inside his eyes; he knew something was wrong. “Maxwell, what’s going on?”

Maxwell’s hands were knees were shaking so much that he collapsed into Drake’s arms.

“Hey! Are you okay?” Robyn went to his side.

And with some effort, the two of them were able to deposit him by a chair. He was muttering under his breath; speaking so low that she was beginning to think he hadn’t heard her.

“You’re starting to scare me Maxwell,” Drake blew out an irritated breath, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Say something.” He commanded sternly.

It took a few seconds of Drake shaking the man’s shoulder for him to blink out of it; staring up at him while gulping fresh air. “It’s Neville.”

Drake froze. His blood ran cold.

“He’s bringing his mercenaries here. They’re going to burn this place down Drake. They’re going to slaughter everyone in here.”

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garecc · 6 years

Text

The Hidden Oracle+1

Chapter 11

Chiron the centaur / Meg eats final oreo / I wanted it though

Meg’s eyes just about bugged out of her head when she saw Chiron. “He- He really is a centaur!”

“How observant of you Meg. Do we assume him having the lower body of a horse is what gave you that startling realization?” I joked. Meg glared at me.

“Shut up!” Meg snapped.

My mouth snapped shut against my will, I found myself unable to speak. How to describe it.. I felt like my voice just stopped, and my jaw locked into place.. I can't describe it. I glanced at Apollo helplessly, he took a deep breath before turning to Meg.

“Meg,” He sounded annoyed. “Shut up, is, in fact, a direct order. So unless you want my sister to be mute for the foreseeable future, I’d advise you to allow her to speak.” Apollo’s voice was clipped and furious.

Meg nodded, a surprised look in her eyes.

“Um- You can speak, Artemis” I took a deep breath, Apollo looked something between furious and pained..

“Thank you. Never do that again.” I massaged my jaw, wincing. I turned to Chiron. “ Anyway. Chiron, This is me and Apollo’s new.. master. Meg. Meg McCaffrey.”

He looked amused. Does he find this funny?!

“You were saying something about disappearances? Apologies for taking forever to get here.. We had a slight issue with the fact that I’m hurt.” Apollo muttered sheepishly.

Chiron’s tail flicked as he glanced between us, last I had seen Chiron he had looked much younger, his hair looked greyer and he definitely didn't have so many wrinkles. Whatever is happening must be taking its toll on him.

“Welcome, Meg.” He attempted to sound friendly, and surprisingly, he managed. A feat considering the havoc she has been causing all day.

“I understand you showed great bravery in the woods. You and Artemis got Apollo here in one piece, despite the many dangers you made it. I’m glad to have you at Camp Half-Blood.”

“I helped” I muttered.

Meg snorted. “No, you were crying and panicking and generally freaking out. I got you two here, you just helped carry him.”

Apollo looked concerned, I forced a smile.

“And thanks,” Meg said. “Also! You’re really tall. Don’t you hit your head on light fixtures?”

Why? How was that relevant? At All?

Chiron chuckled. “Sometimes.” Wow. Just… just wow . “If I want to be closer to human size, I have a magical wheelchair that allows me to compact my lower half into…Actually, that’s not important now.”

“Disappearances,” Apollo repeated. “Please continue.”

“What has disappeared?” I added.

“Not what, but who,” Chiron said. Oh shit. “Let’s talk inside. Will, Nico, could you please tell the other campers we’ll gather for dinner in one hour? I’ll give everyone an update then. In the meantime, no one should roam the camp alone. Use the buddy system.”

“Understood.” Will looked at Nico. “Will you be my buddy?”

“You are a dork,” Nico announced.

The two of them strolled off bickering.

If you’re wondering how I saw them as a couple? I couldn't care less. No matter their gender, I’ve sworn off romance of all forms, I know what your thinking, No . Orion does not count. That was one time and resulted in one of the worst mistakes of my life. No , I'm not elaborating.

Chiron led us to the living room, There were two couches arranged in a V facing towards a stone fireplace. Above the mantel, a stuffed leopard head was snoring. Probably Dio’s work.

I steered Apollo to the couches, the trek to the big house had clearly taken it out of him.

He didn't even try to protest when I practically pushed him onto one.

“Lie down ‘Pollo, you look like you're about to fall over.” I plopped down on the couch next to him. He tried to look annoyed but he was smiling.

“Move over, your big ass is taking up the entire couch!” He shoved me over. I fell sideways, I hadn't been expecting him to push me.

“Apollo!” I was laughing too hard to even pretend to be offended. My eyes were watering and I was smiling so wide my cheeks were beginning to hurt, Apollo maneuvered into a more comfortable position as I got ahold of myself, I could hardly remember the last time I laughed like that. Apollo had his head rested on my lap, I felt a smile tugging at my lips.

Meg was throwing things at Seymour the leopard head, trying to wake him up, while Chiron got into his wheelchair. I couldn't care less about what they were doing.

At least, I didn't care, not until I glanced at Chiron. His legs were… very feminine. (Fishnet stockings? Really?) “Chiron- Your er.. Legs” I stared at them. They did not mesh with his professor aesthetic.

Chiron glanced down and sighed.

“Let me guess… The Stoll brothers? Connor and Travis?” Apollo guessed. “I've heard about them from Hermes.”

“No, I doubt it.” Chiron reached for a blanket from a nearby basket and covered his “Legs”. “Connor has mellowed ever since Travis left for college last autumn.”

“I poked that Connor guy in the eye.”

Chiron winced. “That’s nice, dear….At any rate, we have Julia Feingold and Alice Miyazawa now. They have taken up pranking duty. You’ll meet them soon enough.” Those girls in the Hermes cabin doorway came to mind. The ones who were giggling at us.

Meg looked over from playing on the Pac-man machine. When had she even gone over there?

Meg stepped away from the Pac-man game, it entertained her for a full twenty seconds. Apollo spoke up when she began to climb on the walls. Literally. She was scaling it by the grapevines. “Meg, Why don't you go watch the orientation video while we talk?” Apollo asked, pleaded, something along those lines.

I actually wouldn't mind watching it myself, if only to see Apollo’s normal form. It took him ages to make that film. Guess who had to man the camera? Me.

“I know plenty,” she said. Welp, we’re stuck with her. “I talked to the campers while you were passed out. ‘Safe place for modern demigods.’ Blah, blah, blah.”

“Oh, but the film is very good,” He pleaded. “I shot it on a tight budget in the 1950s-”

I cleared my throat. “You shot it?” I asked rhetorically. “Because I remember it differently. Didn’t you come barging into my camp because you broke-”

“Shhh” He reached up and covered my mouth. “As I was saying-” I bit his hand. “ARTEMIS!”

“Don't cover my mouth. How many times have we gone over this.”

He squinted at me. “ As I was saying, some of the camera work was revolutionary. You should really—”

The grapevine gave out from her weight, and Meg crashed to the floor she shot up directly after, her eyes honing in on a platter of cookies. “Are those free?”

Meg. Meg, it's a plate of cookies. Why wouldn't they be free? “Yes, child,” Chiron said. “Bring the tea as well, would you?”

Meg laid down on the couch beside ours, her legs hanging over the armrest. She was holding something like 8 cookies in one hand and was eating them religiously. Throwing crumbs and Seymour when Chiron wasn't looking.

I helped Apollo into a sitting position as Chiron poured us cups of tea. “I’m sorry Mr. D is not here to welcome you.”

“Mr. Dee?” Meg asked.

“Dionysus,” Apollo explained. “The god of wine. Also the director of this camp.”

Chiron handed Apollo his tea. “After the battle with Gaea, I thought Mr. D might return to camp, but he never did. I hope he’s alright.” He passed me my tea.

The centaur looked at us expectantly, Apollo shrugged and I tried to think of where Dio was. “Apollo here can't remember anything from the last six months.. As for me, I was to busy trying to appeal his- our punishment. I guess I was hoping for you to fill us in.” And my memories are startling blurry. Why couldn't I recall where Dio is?

Chiron did a poor job hiding his disappointment. “I see….”

I quickly realized he was hoping that we could assist him, he was looking for advice. I mean, he shouldn't have expected much, especially considering that we arrived beat up, soaking wet and half dead. I mean, just look at us. Bruised, beaten, cold, mortal. Hell, Apollo still looks like a gust of wind could knock him over. I might look the same, forgive me but I haven't looked in a mirror recently.

In a strange way, Chiron looking at us for advice was a little overwhelming. As a goddess, lesser beings relied on me, but now? The idea of people begging and praying for me to assist them felt a tad terrifying.

“So Chiron, what's going on? You look distressed.”

“Like Cassandra when Troy was falling,” Apollo grumbled. I would have elbowed him if not for the fact I feared hurting him.

Chiron didn't comment on his comparison, he cupped his hands around his tea.

“You know that during the war with Gaea, the Oracle of Delphi stopped receiving prophecies. In fact, all known methods of divining the future suddenly failed.” “Because the original cave of Delphi was retaken,” Apollo said with a sigh.

“Not his fault,” I said immediately. Apollo glanced at me warningly, like Do not have a repeat of earlier.

Chiron raised an eyebrow.

Meg threw a chocolate chip at Seymour the leopard’s nose. It bounced off. “Oracle of Delphi. Percy mentioned that.”

“Percy Jackson?” Chiron sat up. “Percy was with you?”

“For a time,” Apollo replied.

“There were some monsters-” Chiron looked concerned. “No, he did not die, don't think like that, he just got a head cold. Nosoi are nasty things.”

“Basically, to sum it up quickly, Artemis saved my life,” Apollo glanced at me pointedly. “Meg used fruit as missiles, Yes Meg, that was you, and Percy also saved our lives with his water bending abilities, and-”

“A demon fruit toddler devoured the Nosoi in the end” I Interrupted.

“A…. Demon fruit toddler..?” Chiron inquired

“His name is peaches.” Meg cut in. “I think Percy called him a carp-oy.”

“Karpoi” I corrected.

“Whatever.”

“Anyway, Percy said he would drive up here over the weekend if he could.”

Chiron looked disappointed. Was Percy that much more pleasant than us?

“At any rate,” he continued, “we hoped that once the war was over, the Oracle might start working again. When it did not…Rachel became concerned.”

“Who’s Rachel?” Meg asked.

“Rachel Dare,” Apollo said. “The Oracle.”

“Thought the Oracle was a place.”

“It is.”

“Then Rachel is a place, and she stopped working?”

Apollo groaned, then sipped his tea.

“The original Delphi was a place in Greece,” Apollo told her. “A cavern filled with volcanic fumes, where people would come to receive guidance from my priestess, the Pythia.”

“Pythia.” Meg giggled. “That’s a funny word.”

“Yes. Ha-ha. So the Oracle is both a place and a person. When the Greek gods relocated to America back in…what was it, Chiron, 1860?”

Chiron seesawed his hand. “More or less.”

“18...1856 I think it was” I answered quietly

“I brought the Oracle here to continue speaking prophecies on my behalf. The power has passed down from priestess to priestess over the years. Rachel Dare is the present Oracle.”

Meg grabbed the only Oreo, the cookie I wanted.

“Mm-kay. Is it too late to watch that movie?”

“Yes,” He snapped. “Now, the way I gained possession of the Oracle of Delphi in the first place was by killing this monster called Python who lived in the depths of the cavern.”

Oh.

I have to feign indifference. How does one pretend not to know that their brother’s mortal enemy nearly defeated him and that he’s terrified of the snake, I have no idea. I made my best slightly worried face.

“A python like the snake?” Meg asked.

“Yes and no. The snake species is named after Python the monster, who is also rather snaky, but who is much bigger and scarier and devours small girls who talk too much"

"That's cold,” I muttered, sipping my tea.

“At any rate, last August, while I was…indisposed-”

I coughed.

Apollo sighed. “While I was stuck on Delphi, my ancient foe Python was released from Tartarus. He reclaimed the cave of Delphi. That’s why the Oracle stopped working.”

“But if the Oracle is in America now, why does it matter if some snake monster takes over its old cave?”

“It’s too much to explain,” Apollo said. “You’ll just have to—”

“Meg, The original site of the Oracle is like the deepest taproot of a tree. The branches and leaves of prophecy may extend across the world, and Rachel Dare may be our loftiest branch, but if the taproot is strangled, the whole tree is endangered. With Python back in residence at his old lair, the spirit of the Oracle has been completely blocked.”

“Oh.” Meg made a face at Apollo. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Apollo looked livid, I set my hand over his. Chiron refilled his teacup.

“The larger problem,” Chiron said, “is that we have no other source of prophecies.”

“Who cares?” Meg asked. “So you don’t know the future. Nobody knows the future.”

She.. really shouldn't have said that.

“Who cares?!” Apollo shouted. “Meg McCaffrey, prophecies are the catalysts for every important event—every quest or battle, disaster or miracle, birth or death. Prophecies don’t simply foretell the future. They shape it! They allow the future to happen.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Apollo. She’s 12.”

He grunted in response.

Chiron cleared his throat. “Imagine prophecies are flower seeds. With the right seeds, you can grow any garden you desire. Without seeds, no growth is possible.”

“Oh.” Meg nodded. “That would suck.”

“So where is Rachel Dare?” Apollo asked, forcing himself to sound calm “Perhaps if I spoke with her…?”

Chiron set down his tea. “Rachel planned to visit us during her winter vacation, but she never did. It might not mean anything….”

Apollo leaned forward. From the little I've heard of Rachel, it wasn’t like her not to show up at all.

“Or?” Apollo asked.

“Or it might be part of the larger problem,” Chiron said. “Prophecies are not the only things that have failed. Travel and communication have become difficult in the last few months. We haven’t heard from our friends at Camp Jupiter in weeks. No new demigods have arrived. Satyrs aren’t reporting from the field. Iris messages no longer work.”

“Iris what?” Meg asked.

“Two-way visions,” I explained. “Demigods throw a drachma into a rainbow as an offering the rainbow goddess, Iris.”

“Iris has always been flighty….” Apollo murmured.

“Except that normal human communications are also on the fritz,” Chiron said. “Of course, phones have always been dangerous for demigods—”

“Yeah, they attract monsters,” Meg agreed. “I haven’t used a phone in forever.”

“A wise move,” Chiron said. “But recently our phones have stopped working altogether. Mobile, landline, Internet…it doesn’t seem to matter. Even the archaic form of communication known as e-mail is strangely unreliable. The messages simply don’t arrive.”

“Did you look in the junk folder?” Apollo offered.

“I fear the problem is more complicated,” Chiron said. “We have no communication with the outside world. We are alone and understaffed. You are the first newcomers in almost two months.”

“Huh. I mean.. I’d assume my relatives have more children out there. But who knows, the titan war sent the population of demigods lower than it's been in generations."

Apollo frowned. “Percy Jackson mentioned nothing of this.”

“I doubt Percy is even aware,” Chiron said. “He’s been busy with school. Winter is normally our quietest time. For a while, I was able to convince myself that the communication failures were nothing but an inconvenient happenstance. Then the disappearances started.”

In the fireplace, a log slipped from the andiron and into the fire. Beside me Apollo practically jumped out of his seat, tea spilled from his cup into his lap. He visibly deflated as he weakly attempted to brush the drops off. A pointless endeavor.

“Oh dear...” I murmured, standing up to fetch Apollo a napkin, then I realized I didn't know where any were. “Do you have any napkins? Paper towel?”

“Yes, paper towel. Around the corner on the counter.”

I had.. A difficult time finding the paper towel, but I managed. I may or may not have required more information from Chiron. But I managed, bringing a few back to Apollo, who was trying to ignore Megs snickering. “Here”

“Thank you.” He murmured, fervently attempted to dry his pants.

“Don't mind me” He grit out. “Please continue”

“Alright.. Three demigods have gone missing in the last month Chiron said. “First it was Cecil Markowitz from the Hermes cabin, One morning his bunk was simply empty. He didn’t say anything about wanting to leave. No one saw him go. And in the past few weeks, no one has seen or heard from him.

“Children of Hermes do tend to sneak around,” Apollo interjected.

“At first, that’s what we thought,” said Chiron. “But a week later, Ellis Wakefield disappeared from the Ares cabin. Same story: empty bunk, no signs that he had either left on his own or was…ah, taken. Ellis was an impetuous young man. It was conceivable he might have charged off on some ill-advised adventure, but it made me uneasy. Then this morning we realized a third camper had vanished: Miranda Gardiner, head of the Demeter cabin. That was the worst news of all.”

Meg swung her feet off the armrest. “Why is that the worst?”

“Miranda is one of our senior counselors,” Chiron explained. “She would never leave on her own without notice. She is too smart to be tricked away from camp and too powerful to be forced. Yet something happened to her…something I can’t explain.”

The old centaur turned to face us, a haunted look in his eyes. “Something is very wrong Letoides, These problems may not be as alarming as the rise of Kronos or the awakening of Gaea, but in a way, I find them even more unsettling, because I have never seen anything like this before.”

Apollo seemed to be lost in thought. “These demigods…” He said. “Before they disappeared, did they act unusual in any way? Did they report…hearing things?”

Chiron raised an eyebrow. “Not that I am aware of. Why?”

I turned to face him, he never did say what happened in the woods.

He seemed reluctant to say more, I understood where he was coming from. Causing a panic was a bad idea. Chiron studied us.

“Nevermind. Our first priority should be helping us regain our divinity. Then we can assist with other problems.”

I couldn't say I didn't agree, but we would be a mortal at least a year. “Apollo. You know these punishments last a year. There isn't much point in trying to sway Father.”

Chiron stroked his beard. “Artemis is correct, but on the other hand, what if the problems are connected, my friends? What if the only way to restore you both to Olympus is by reclaiming the Oracle of Delphi, thus freeing the power of prophecy? What if Delphi is the key to it all?”

That… made sense. Python controlled Delphi. Meaning we had to kill the serpent. Meaning many things that I will think about later.

“In our present state, that’s impossible.” I pointed at Meg. “Right now, our job is to serve this demigod, probably for a year, as Artie pointed out. After I’ve done whatever tasks he assigns me, Zeus will judge if our sentence has been served, and we can once again reign immortal.”

Meg pulled apart a Fig Newton. Why? I couldn't tell you.Those are the best cookies.. Eat them normally child. “I could order you to go to this Delphi place.”

“No!” Apollo’s voice cracked mid-shriek. “You should assign us easy tasks—like starting a rock band, or just hanging out. Yes, hanging out is good.”

I glared at Meg, Strike one. I reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Meg. We are currently in no shape to fight anything. Much less get to Delphi"

Meg looked unconvinced. “You could take a plane”

Apollo stiffened and I laughed humorlessly. “You mean get thrown from the sky by our father so we die in the flaming wreckage of a plane. No.” Chiron glanced at me curiously. I ignored him.

“...well, Hanging out isn't a task.” Meg resorted.

“It is if you do it right. Camp Half-Blood can protect us while we hang out. After our year of servitude is up, we’ll become immortal again. Then we can talk about how to restore Delphi.” Apollo argued.

But I knew immediately after he’d order some demigods to do it for him, and Zeus wouldn’t like that.

“Apollo,” I sighed. “We may not have a year.”

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“If demigods keep disappearing, the strength of camp weakens, and then they can't protect us. Besides, you are far from helpless.”

“I’m mortal ” He responded.

“I’m mortal.” I repeated, gesturing to myself. “‘Pollo, we are both mortal, we’re in this mess together,”

Apollo gestured angrily. “Artie we can die-”

“and! Apollo, Delphi IS your responsibility.” I added.

Chiron nodded thoughtfully.

Apollo groaned and put his head in his hands. Even he can't argue with logic. “Why us?” He asked rhetorically. “ I didn't open the doors of breath and let Python out! Zeus’s bad judgment got us in this mess in the first place!”

“Apollo..”

“When the giants started to wake, I drew up a very clear Twenty-Point Plan of Action to Protect Apollo and Also You Other Gods, but he didn’t even read it!”

“Yes. I do remember. ‘Pollo. You refused to let me edit.. But, to be honest, your plan was better than Zeus’s ‘wait till the last minute plan’.”

“Thank you.”

Meg tossed half of her cookie at Seymour’s head. “I still think it’s your fault. Hey, look! He’s awake!” Meg spoke in a way that made it sound like the Leopard had woken up in his own, was like he wasn't nailed in the eye with a Fig Newton.

His fault? I bristled at her statement because this so wasn’t his fault. Before I could argue Apollo just looked at me and shook his head. His message was clear. It's not worth it.

“RARR,” Seymour complained.

I felt the same.

Chiron wheeled his chair back from the table. “My dear, in that jar on the mantel, you’ll find some Snausages. Why don’t you feed him dinner? The twins and I will wait on the porch.”

~0~

I helped Apollo to his feet, a task in it'self. He didn't fall like earlier, thank the gods, but he swayed for a moment, almost falling, he steadied himself on the back of the couch.

Chiron looked wary.

“Do you think you can walk?” I asked quietly, he nodded quickly, staggering into a standing position. Once we reached the porch, Apollo started leaned on the railing heavily.

Chiron turned his wheelchair to face us. “She’s an interesting demigod.”

“Interesting is such a nonjudgmental term,” Apollo stated.

I smiled weakly.

“She really summoned a karpos?” Chiron

“Well…the spirit appeared when she was in trouble. Whether she consciously summoned it, I don’t know” Apollo replied.

Chiron scratched his beard. “I have not seen a demigod with the power to summon grain spirits in a very long time. You know what it means?”

Apollo’s legs began to tremble. I immediately took a step closer to him. “I have my suspicions. I’m trying to stay positive.” He muttered.

“She guided you two of the woods,” Chiron noted. “Without her—”

“Artemis would have gotten me out.” He interrupted, looking at Chiron.

“Apollo-” I attempted to speak.

“You would have gotten us out, Artie. I trust you.” He replied I felt my lip twitch upward.

Chiron chuckled. I turned to him. He had this.. Look in his eyes. A look I've seen mirrored in my previous lieutenant’s eyes as she looked over recruit's. The look of someone scanning for new talent, I’d never imagined someone would look at me like that. It felt.. Objectifying.

“Tell me,” Chiron looked at Apollo, “what did you hear in the woods?”

Apollo froze, he laughed dryly. “I- well.. When I was in the woods.. There was a distinctly feminine voice.. And she was.. Screaming. Screaming from inside my head, I think. You couldn't hear it… Screaming stuff about fires and finding her and-” his voice was trembling. “She said- I'm quoting here- “The sun's fall, the final verse” and-” His voice broke, I reached over and grabbed his hand.

“I won't let you die,” I said quietly. “I’ll continue with the dream, okay?”

“That.. That would be nice” He looked out of it, his eyes on the ground. I squeezed his hand, hoping I was reassuring. I'm not going to let him die.

“When.. When I took a nap in the cabin while Apollo was unconscious, we shared a dream. In the dream we were in the sun chariot, a lady was there. She.. Looked like a queen. Not Hera. Hera doesn't smile. She was talking about following the voices and finding some gates.” I said. “Apollo you said something about a prophecy didn't you?”

“Uh- Yeah. I just- I don't know what I meant by that…”

“That's fine ‘Pollo. After that, she disappeared and the Chariot went into bus form. There was this… man in the back. I don't know why but.. He’s bad news. I know he is. The chariot was in a death spiral and he said something about burning down an Oracle. He was laughing.” Apollo’s grip on my hand tightened as I spoke.

Chiron’s hands curled into his lap blanket. He looked about as worried as it is possible for a man to look while wearing fishnet stockings.

“We will have to warn the campers to stay away from the forest,” he decided. “I do not understand what is happening, but I still maintain it must be connected to Delphi, and your present…ah, situation. The Oracle must be liberated from the monster Python. We must find a way.”

I translated that easily enough: Apollo and I must find a way.

Chiron smiled weakly at us.

“Come, come, Apollo,” he said. “You have done it before. Perhaps you are not a god now, but the first time you killed Python it was no challenge at all! Hundreds of storybooks have praised the way you easily slew your enemy.”

I winced. The biggest lie my brother has ever told. Apollo glanced at me curiously.

“Yes,” He muttered. “Hundreds of storybooks.”

As I've said before, Python was not an easy fight for my brother. I saw the aftermath. He doesn't know I know how badly he was injured, but he’s had nightmares about the Serpent forever. My brother told everyone he killed it quickly, called out the serpent, and BAM! A dead snake, Apollo became lord of Delphi, and everyone was happy. From the bit's I've heard, and what I've seen, Python was no pushover. I doubted we could even pose a threat without our divine powers, the ability to teleport and our bows. We would die in mere minutes.

What kind of chance would we have as a sixteen-year-old mortals? We are not going to charge off to Greece and get ourselves killed.

Apollo looked frustrated, anxious, and angry. He looked like he was going to speak but before he could speak a conch horn in the distance.

“That means dinner.” The centaur forced a smile. “We will talk more later, eh? For now, let’s celebrate your arrival.”

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