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thomotomo · 3 years

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Through everything part.1

Pairing: Namjoon x Male Reader

Summary: You have been dating Namjoon for a while. You’re now seeing him again for the first time in 4 years and both of you agreed on disclosing you relationship to everyone.

Words: 3.5k

Today was a great day, maybe even the best day of your life, you were going to see your boyfriend after what felt like a lifetime without any physical interaction between both of you. In fact, it had been nearly 4 years since you last kissed you boyfriend.

Your boyfriend was an idol, Kim Namjoon from BTS, so he had a very tight schedule, and when he had breaks it didn’t always matched when you had breaks sadly. But this year, after a lot of discussions with him and him with his manager and the CEO, you were finally able to see each other.

You both met back in High-School when you went in Korea for an exchange that was organised by your school after they set up a pen pal thing between both schools. You ended up in his class, even though he wasn’t your pen pal, you discussed with him and both of you immediately hit off and you absolutely wanted to keep contact even after you left Korea.

It wasn’t easy every day, specially because both of you were in different time zones, so often you were the one who stayed up at night so you could discuss. You also sent each other packages, which was pretty expensive, so you didn’t do it often, probably for Christmas, each other’s birthdays and for each other’s new year (the “common one” and the Lunar new year). Luckily for both of you, your parents were cool enough to come in Korea every two days, mainly during summer break, so you could see each other. You also helped each other in your native languages and with English, soon you became fluent in both Korean and English and Namjoon easily spoke (your language) and English.

Slowly you fell for each other, you easily accepted your feelings, as you always wondered why you didn’t felt the same attraction toward girls like your comrades so in the end you agreed with your feelings pretty easily, but not saying anything to Namjoon, you didn’t want to lose the friendship you both had.

On the other hand It wasn’t easy for Namjoon, sexualities other than heterosexuality weren’t talked a lot, if not at all, in Korea, so he struggled to understand why he had such hard feelings toward a boy, especially when he knew he could still feel attracted to girls. Few times before you, he arbored a kind of a crush on other guys but tried to pass it as just finding them attractive and nothing else. He spent a lot of time online on anonymous servers, discussing about sexuality and trying to understand who he was and what his sexuality was. In the end he determined that he was fitting the definition of pansexual pretty well and thus, adopted it for himself and internet friends.

He thought few times about coming out to his parents, but he read so much stories of Korean who were left by their families once they came out, and even though he tried to drop clues about him and test their reactions to LGBT+ people on TV shows or something he didn’t find the force in himself to come out to them, too scared. He also kept that from you, in case you didn’t want to be friend with him anymore.

You both didn’t talk about your feelings to each other and life followed its pace. You congratulated him when he told you about the song he wrote for another band and when he spoke to you about the group he’ll be in. In return he was happy for you when he learned that you graduated high school and got accepted to the college you wanted to go to.

In 2013, when you were both 18 you organized your trip in Korea, alone this time, so you could enjoy “fully” the trip alone. You met Namjoon at the airport and congratulated each other for graduating high school. You went to deposit all your thing at the hotel, and then you both walked around Seoul, him showing you his favourite places since he started to live at Big Hit’s dorms. He was allowed to go back home so you went and installed a bed for you to sleep in. You were happy to see his parents once again, they were always sweet to you, so it was always a pleasure to see them again. It was the same day that you came out to each other.

Around midnight you were both laid in the bed when Namjoon whispered:

“Hey…”

“Yes?”

“Would you stay by my side no matter what?”

“Of course Namjoon! Why are you asking me that?”, you stood on your forearms, looking at him.

“I… Need to admit you something…”, he was still laid in the bed, looking at the ceiling

“You can tell me everything, I’ll be here to support you.”

He took a deep breath.

“I’m… Pansexual. I can be attracted to everyone no matter their gender...”

You smiled at him softly and sat on the edge of your bed.

“It’s okay, I have to admit something too then.”

He turned his head toward you, frowning a little bit.

“I’m gay, I’m exclusively attracted to men.”

He looked at you, a bit surprised. His brain was trying to understand what you meant as he sat on his bed too.

“You… Really?”

“Yep. Don’t feel ashamed to be you. It’s okay. If it’s not too indiscreet, are you out to your parents?”

“N-No… I’m pretty scared, you know I’ve read a lot of stories about LGBT+ Korean people that got thrown out of their households when they came out… And I’m becoming an idol, it could ruin my career and I don’t want to abandon my dream because of that…” He lowered his eyes, as if ashamed of what he just said to you.

You came closer, seating right next to him and hugged him.

“It’s okay if you’re not out, your safety always comes first. Don’t force yourself to come out if you’re not ready you’re not. I love you the way you are.”

“Y-You love me?”

You blushed, wondering why you said that. You looked away from him and tried to take off your hands from him but looked at you, whispering.

“I love you too…”

You flushed even harder and smiled at him while he was looking at you with bright eyes.

“(Y/N)… Can I kiss you?”

“Yes of course!”

Your faces slowly got closer from the other’s and your lips gently touched, his lips were soft, softer than you anticipated (and fantasized), you felt as if you whole body was set on fire. The kiss was a little bit sloppy, but you didn’t had much experience and you were pretty sure than he didn’t have much either.

You stopped kissing after a few seconds, air already starting to miss. You looked at each other and you observed a pink blush covering a great part of Namjoon’s face. He looked back at you with a bright smile and your heartbeat already fastened by all these emotions, quickened the pace even more.

“So… Boyfriends?”

“Yes Nam… Boyfriends.”

He smiled and hugged you before yawning. You smiled a little to him, touching his hair softly.

“Maybe we should go to sleep, you seem tired.”

“Yes, good idea. Goodnight (Y/N).”, he said as he left your arms and laid back in his bed.

“Goodnight Namjoon.”

You moved to your bed, falling asleep with a content smile.

This is how you spent the next 7 years with Kim Namjoon as your boyfriend, of course it wasn’t easy every day, as living in different time zones, and him being a full-time idol who grown more and more popular every day passing. Like every couples you had your fights and being unable to make up with either sex or cuddles was pretty frustrating. You were able to see him sometimes when he had breaks and you enjoyed and cherished those moments very dearly, but sadly you couldn’t see as often as you would. Nobody except your family knew that you were dating. Of course, at firsts your parents had been sceptical, thinking that it was just some hormonal teenagers feelings, but after noticing that you were serious and engaged in your relationship they supported you.

So here you were, inside your plane to Korea to meet your boyfriend you weren’t able to see in a while. You were quite excited, and the trip was long, so you slept for a long time, hoping that when you woke up, you’ll be in Korea or close enough. Sadly for you, you still had half of the trip that you still had to do.

You occupied yourself as much as you could do but luckily, in the end the trip went pretty quickly. You landed at Incheon airport after around 12 hours of flight, when you took your first steps on the Korean soil you couldn’t help but grin.

You took out your phone, sending a text to your lover, before going to the conveyor, reclaiming your belongings before going toward the public entry, you felt you phone vibrating, you opened it, it was a text from Namjoon that he was going to wait for you in a car at Incheon City Hall to avoid any commotions in the airport, he also gave you the brand, the colour and the first number of the car.

You moved as fast as you could to catch your bus, even though it was hard for you to know that you’ll have to wait for another hour before finally being reunited with him.

Once you reached the station you went to the parking and you looked around before noticing the car Namjoon was in. You grinned and trotted until you reached it. You knocked at the window and Namjoon perked, his eyes lighting up as he saw you. He got out of the car to meet you. Once he was close enough he lowered his mask and kissed you hard.

You felt a laughter bubbled in you throat. You put your luggage on the ground and put your arms around him. After a few seconds he stopped the kiss and put his mask back in place.

“I’m sorry we can’t kiss longer for the moment, but I want to avoid any risks for your to be exposed.”

“Of course don’t worry.”

He helped you with your bags and opened the trunk of his car where you put all your things. He closed it while you went to the front of the car and sat in the passenger sit. He came few seconds after you and took your hand with his, softly kissing it through his mask.

“I missed you so much (Y/N)”

“I missed you too… I’m glad to be able to spend some time with you.”

His eyes crinkled and he started the car, he told you that both of you were going back to his parents’ houses, it had been a while since you saw them (along with his sister) and you couldn’t help but being anxious about it, last time you saw them it was in 2016, and it was before Namjoon came out to them and told them you were dating. He told you they reacted pretty well, and it seemed it didn’t disturb them more than that when you did call with them, but it was the first time you’ll see them as Namjoon’s boyfriend and that was frankly scary for you.

After maybe an hour in the car you reached Namjoon’s family’s house. The car stopped and you felt you hand starting to shake slightly. Your boyfriend noticed that too and he took them in his hands.

“It’s okay, they love you already so much.”

“H-How?”

He snorted.

“I’ve known you for more than 10 years, and you didn’t saw my parents since I came out to them, of course you’re going to be stressed. It’s okay, they love you too.”

You nodded at his reassuring words as he quickly kissed your lips. You both left the car to get you things that were still in the trunk, you suddenly stilled when he closed it.

“I didn’t thought of that before but… How should I call them?”

“Aaah you worry too much love! Just call them as you did before they knew we were dating, it’s okay.”

You nodded and took you bags trying to calm down. You followed Namjoon until he reached the front door. He took out his keys and opened the door. As he did that and entered first in the house you could hear your heartbeat pounding loudly and you took a deep breath before following him.

“Appa! Eomma! I’m back and I brought back (Y/N)!”

As you took off your shoes you heard footsteps coming towards where you were located, when you rose you head both of his parents were here and Namjoon was kissing them hello.

You slightly bowed you head when they looked at you and quickly took your backpack.

“Hello Mrs. and Mr Kim! I’m glad to see you again… Erm here! I brought you a little something from (country) I hope you will like it.”

Behind them Namjoon laughed silently at your stress and you frowned at him discreetly. His parents told you to come closer and they hugged you. His mother spoke first.

“It’s okay (Y/N)-suh-bang, call us appa and eomma you’ve know us for a while and you’re dating Namjoon!”

You flushed bright as she called you her son-in-law, you weren’t engaged to Namjoon and she called you that way. Behind your boyfriend seemed to tell you with his eyes “See?”, you set your gaze back on his mother and smiled shily at her.

“Ah- A-Alright Mr- Eomma.” The back of your neck was burning as you said that, the new appellation being completely different from what you got used to.

His father stepped next, taking you hand in his and shaking it.

“Thank you for being friend and lover to Namjoon, you seem to take a great care of him, I’m glad he met you (Y/N).”

“I’m the lucky one A-Appa, he’s the one who brighten my days when I have a message of him.”

Namjoon blushed hard as you said that, and you flashed him a little grin. His parents thanked you for the gifts and you thanked them for allowing you to stay here for a little while.

“You can put your things in Namjoon’s bedroom, we will let you be lovebirds! Also, your sister will come later, she’s still in classes.”

Namjoon and you nodded before you moved your things into his bedroom. When all your suitcases where put in his bedroom he caught you off-guard by gripping your face with both his hands and kissing you deeply. You were surprised at first but then you relaxed and deepened the kiss. One of your hand slided around his waist, the other putting itself on his face. You sighed as his tongue poked at your lips and you gladly accepted it. You felt like two teenagers, but it was fair, it’s been a while since you got one of his mind-blowing kisses and you just wanted to pounce on him now. Sadly for you, you were in his parents’ house so it wouldn’t be a good idea to go all the way with his parents close enough to surprise you.

You stopped after a while, both of you panting Namjoon suddenly softly rubbed his nose against yours, making you laugh. He watched you with a little smile and suddenly looked a bit more serious.

“I… I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Of course, you know I’ll always listen to you.”

He took your hands in his and kissed softly your fingertips.

“I’d like people to know about us.”

“What?”

“I want my fans to know about us, I don’t want to have to hide even more than usually to go on dates with you. I want… I just don’t want to hide anymore, the other members know about us because we’re literally living together and I had to tell them. And the company only know that I have a significant other because . We’ve been together for like 7 years, it’s not fair that we have to hide even more because I just want to claim my love for you from the highest building of Seoul and I just can’t…”

You were shocked at what he said, of course you badly wanted to announce how in love you were with Namjoon but you were also very scared, you knew by watching scandals and all that fans weren’t always happy when and idol dated another. How would it be for an idol and a random who’s a male on the top of that?

“Namjoon… That’s… I’d like to do that, but have you seen how fans reacts to straight couples between two idols? How would they about us? What about your company? If they want us to break up or I don’t know, if they don’t allow you to see me anymore? What about your carrier it could affect the group badly too!”

“I’ve thought about that and I know it could badly impact my carrier but maybe it would help other LGBT+ Koreans to not be scared of affirming themselves, and yeah… I want to tell the world how much you count for me.”

You enveloped him in a hug, your eyes were stinging a little bit from hearing his confession.

“I can’t promise everything will be okay but I’ll be with you through every step of it.”

You nodded and kissed his shoulder; you couldn’t help being worried for his safety and yours. You stood there hugging each other for a few instants.

“Let’s stop thinking about that for the moment, we should just have fun. Let’s chill and you can tell me what you did for the last few weeks.”

You both sat on his bed and talked for a few hours until you fell asleep to him talking about his latest concert.

Later that day Namjoon’s parents came looking for you as his sister arrived home. They lightly knocked and opened when none of you responded and found you intertwined, your head lied on Namjoon’s torso as he was enveloping you protectively. His parents smiled and took a picture before waking up you.

You both went downstairs where you saw his sisters. The five of you ate dinner, talking about everything and nothing but mainly catching up with the family. Once the meal was finished you stayed talking a bit more before you and Namjoon retreated so you could go sleep. You had both discussed with the family about Namjoon doing his coming out and announce your couple and they had agreed that you should talk about that to the other members and mainly to the company. Namjoon had sent a text to his manager asking to talk about your relationship with you being present

Once both of you showered (together of course ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) you installed the bed and both of you cozied yourself under the blanket and cuddled with Namjoon. You spent a good time kissing and whispering sweet words to each other. After a while you once again fell asleep peacefully together.

The next morning Namjoon woke you up sweetly with soft kisses on your back. You sighed softly as he asked you to wake up so you could take the breakfast with his family. The thought of a real Korean breakfast was making you salivate, it actually had been a while since you ate a real one, as you couldn’t get any fresh ingredients to prepare it in (country).

You were about to put some “normal” clothes when Namjoon told you it wasn’t worth it as everyone would be in pyjamas.

You ate the breakfast with the family, eating a little bit more than usual as you missed that kind of food. After a good half an hour eating and discussing you both left to prepare yourself to the meeting with Namjoon’s manager.

He helped you finding clothes that wouldn’t attract the fans and paparazzi’s attention, hiding the bottom of your face with a mask and putting your hair under a cap. Once you were ready both of you went to the car and you could feel the adrenaline rise inside of you and your body felt suddenly quite hot, and not the pleasurable kind. Namjoon turned his head to look at you and he smiled trying to reassure you.

“I can’t say everything is going to be okay and everyone will accept our relationship easily but I’ll be here for you, I won’t leave you alone with them."

He put his hand on your knee and caressed it with his thumb, trying to calm you down. After half an hour driving in silence, sometimes discussing to reassure you, you arrived in front of Big Hit. Luckily there was a parking underground for employees and idols. Once he parked his car he took your shaking hand in his and kissed it.

“Don’t worry love, I won’t leave your side. Everything is going to be okay.”

_________________

You nodded at him and exhaled a shaky breath before following him outside the car and to the elevator that was going to bring your to your death to where the manager was waiting for you.

A/N: Oh wow finally published this! And I decided to make it a small series of it! Please leave me your thoughts about it!

Well I hope you enjoyed this first part! And don’t hesitate to leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #kpop x male reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon x male reader #bts namjoon #kpop fanfic #bts fanfction #bts x male reader #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #reader insert #x male reader #male reader

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

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Clean-up in Aisle 4 (Will Miller x GN reader blurb)

Summary: a grocery store meet-cute with Will. Little bit of fluff, mainly angsty.

Author’s note: First time writing Will. Super quick one but hope you like it. Helps a lot if you know Will’s canon from the movie. You can read-up here if you wanna. Told you I was in Triple Frontier feels tonight!

Warnings: vague but thematic mentions of prior trauma related to military service and PTSD / anxiety themes, though nothing in-depth / graphic. Swearing.

GIF: @will-grammer

The first thing you noticed about the man was the broadness of him. Wide shoulders, leading down to a nipped-in waist. You weren’t ogling. Really. It was simply hard to miss, since you nearly drove your cart into his back, the brick wall of a man coming to a sudden, dead halt in front of you as you each approached the grocery store.

The second thing you noticed, as you huffed out air and scooted your cart around him, was the way his hands white-knuckled as they wrapped -achingly tight- around the handle of his own cart, the tension extending into his forearms and along the veins of his straining biceps.

The third thing, causing you to fully abandon your intended pursuit of a passive aggressive side-eyeing, was his ashen expression; the way his gaze fixed unerringly on the sliding, automatic doors as though they were the gates to hell and he was deathly afraid to enter. You saw then that the tension extended all then way through the chords of his neck, into his chiselled jaw, which was covered in a scruff of blond beard.

You’d seen that look before. Seen it on others in the field; and out of it. Had seen it plenty when you looked in the mirror too. It looked like trauma, raw and exposed and bile-inducing, and the recognition had the words rising out of your throat before you could stop them.

“Hey, are you okay?” you had asked casually, in a cooling voice as you lined your cart up side-by-side with his.

It was reflex by now. You had seen too many comrades freeze in the face of danger - and in your experience, freezing near-always led to sub-optimal outcomes. Perhaps that’s why you felt a personal responsibilty to shock him back to life. He seemed stuck. He seemed like he needed a push, like that damn cart.

The man’s eyes - hazel centred and fringed with a piercing yet muted blue - flicked fiercely towards you, and the hint of volatility made you very suddenly take note of his size and latent strength, your body’s fight or flight response firing as he appeared to take a little unkindly to the interruption.

Of course, you stood your ground. You always do. It’s a bad habit of yours.

His eyes softened, however, just a little, as he clocked gentle concern rather than confrontation in your own, and he self-consciously shuffled from foot to foot, his heavy combat boots seeking surer-footing on the paving; quite literally grounding himself.

Oh, he’s definitely military this one. You recognised that too in the way he moved. In the habits ingrained in his body.

Still, you saw the rush of panic fleeting across his eyes as he ignored you and fixed his stare back on the threshold of the store. It might have looked like nothing -a simple line to cross- but you knew all too well how the smallest of lines could be something much bigger; a marker, a milestone, a hurdle.

It seemed hard for him. And if it seemed hard, and he was still here, trying, then you were damn sure it seemed important too.

You had noticed the ticks in his body then too. He tapped his boot and his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was counting. Counting-up or counting down to something, you were not sure.

“Afraid to go in?” you had asked him gently, devoid of any mocking.

“I had a bad experience here...” he had told you, his voice a deep, drawling, painfully empty baritone.

He told you this much, though he was not sure why or how he even began to speak. Why or how he looked at you. He was not sure either, why he was unable to continue speaking.

He was a speaker by profession, wasn’t he? He had repeated his story often enough as part of his motivational speeches, and yet, the words died in his throat now.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost...

His hands tightened their grip on the cart, just like they had tightened...

“Hmm,” you acknowledged, chewing on your lip as you digested the new information.

“Well. Me too,” you admitted, as his eyes segued back to those double doors, bumping open and closed as his proximity continually reactivated the sensors. “It was bad. My shorts had split clean in half right down the ass-crack and no-one thought to tell me. Some of the clerks still call me Cheeky to this day.”

The incident you spoke of was painfully true, and at least mildly cheering, you thought, but the man barely registered it. At least, not initially. He took a moment, still staring, still counting, but then he looked at you with a reluctant and pained amusement that evidently took him by surprise.

Now, he saw you. His eyes gave you the once over.

You were not what he was expecting. That story wasn’t what he was expecting. He wasn’t expecting...

“Wait, what?”

Letting your mouth draw open into a smile, effortlessly holding his attention now, you had pressed on with your distraction.

“Split right up the ass-crack. Mortifying. So... I could use the company, if you’ll brave it with me?” You had nodded your head towards the double doors, and you had shifted your cart to casually bump his. “We could go together?”

The man had simply stared at you, and you had patiently waited for his response. The muscles in his jaw had twitched, tendons slipping over bone. He was frozen still; that is, until you had politely nodded and started to move away from him, with a sincere, “Take care of yourself, man.”

“Hey, wait up,” he had called as you moved ahead of him, and you threw your head over your shoulder to humourously inspect the seat of your pants.

“Shit, why, is my ass out again?” you had laughed, and Will tentatively laughed with you, following you into the store; crossing his personal boundary.

It was hard, and it was important.

You had waited for him to catch-up with a soft smile, proud of the man although you did not know him yet, and this time he had drawn his cart to a halt alongside yours.

“Your ass is not out,” he had promised. “Shit. Not that I was looking. I just, uh. Shit. I could actually use the company?”

“Sure,” you had nodded, without judgement, and you had stayed closely by his side on your usual, winding route around the store.

You had tried your best to cheer him and distract this stranger, and even earned a few smiles as you engaged him in meaningless conversation.

Then, the man had paused at the mouth of a particular aisle and stared turbulently into the vacant space there, face and body pulled taut as if replaying an unpleasant memory. He was about to abandon his cart, you thought. About to leave you with a hanging apology he in no way owed you about how he wasn’t ready for this.

It was important, but perhaps it was still too hard.

However, instead, you had blitzed into the centre of the aisle and trampled over his ghosts, barraging all of his memories out of the way as you shifted armfuls of dog food into your cart with a clatter.

He had swallowed thickly, his hands stuffed into his pockets, until you shot him another soft smile.

“You have a dog,” he observed tentatively, consciously tearing himself away from the past. Counting the seconds; his breaths, his heartbeats, the cans of dog food. Moving forward.

“I do. He’s the goodest boi. He even has medals of honour.”

The man tips his mouth into a lop-sided smile. “What for? Can he walk on his hind legs?”

“Ugh, okay. I love it when smug fuckers underestimate my mutt.” You had added the last of your tins to the cart and gestured for Will to follow you into the next aisle. Away from his demons. He did follow. “No, actually,” you begin more softly, “he sniffed out IEDs when I was on my tour of duty.”

“Holy shit, you’re army?”

“Ex-Army,” you correct. “You too, I’m guessing?”

He had that look. That manner to his movements. The man looked like he had killed. It was a look you had learned to identify at ten paces. It was a look you saw in the mirror often enough.

“That obvious?” he says, sucking in air through his teeth.

“Oh yeah.”

He had smiled nervously at you. For the first time since meeting him, you noticed that he looked sweet.

“Yep, uh, I got out. Now I give motivational speeches where I relive my trauma and try ‘n’ convince recruits it’s all worth it.”

You had nodded, thin-lipped, as you moved towards the check-out.

You had wondered what happened to him out there, but something about the way his gaze had fallen on that spot in the aisle told you that what weighed heaviest wasn’t what he did while he was in, but what he did when he got out.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost...

That could happen. You had seen the pattern too many times amongst your buddies. Still, you had seen regret in this man’s eyes. That doesn’t always happen. Not everyone can pull back from the violence. Not everyone wants to.

You had peered into the man’s cart as he moved the items to be scanned. He had cola, lemons, and some sriracha in his cart, but... one step at a time. Coherent meals could come later.

This was hard. This was important.

“You should meet my floofy war hero. He’s outside in my truck,” you had offered, picking-up your bags, and the man picking up his... lemons etc..

“Oh yeah? Sure. Would be an honour,” he had smiled shyly, and you had tracked together over to your truck, thrown your bags in the back, and had let your boy out of the passenger seat.

“Hey, buddy,” the man had cooed, kneeling down on the ground to deliver some quality scritches, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight.

“Aw, he loves you! Freddie, you slut!” you had laughed as this huge, burly man baby-talked to your mutt, your dog rolling on the floor and showing his belly like you didn’t feed and water him and take him for walkies.

You had watched the man for a moment. You had noticed a lot about him already, but now you noticed that, shit, he was handsome. That smile. That laugh. Blonde hair and beard and piercing eyes. His arms rippling beneath his pale blue t-shirt.

He had risen back to standing and leaned up against your truck, looking like soemthing out of a catalogue. And then, there it was again. That look. That raw, exposed, bile-inducing look.

“Listen,” he had said earnestly. “Thank you. I probably would still be standing out front if you hadn’t taken pity on me.”

“No problem. Except, not pity. Not at all,” you had reassured. Affinity, maybe. Recognition.

He had huffed out a gentle, grateful breath.

“For real though, I was getting kinda tired of eating gas station noodle pots. Wouldn’t have my...” he had finally peered into the paper bag, registering the groceries he had panic bought. “Fuck. Wouldn’t have my lemons and sriracha without you.”

“Okay. Now maybe I’ll take pity on you,” you had smiled, gently teasing, and you shifted a few choice ingredient from your bags to his, despite his protests that you’d done enough for him already.

“You did it,” you had said firmly. “I just walked into a place where all the clerks accidently saw my ass cheeks. Whatever you did. It was hard and it was immportant. You did that. You should be proud.”

He had looked at you curiously and disbelievingly with those piercing eyes of his, like he didn’t deserve your words - even though they were merely the truth. So, you had bumped him on the arm, loaded Freddie back into the truck, and had thrown him a “Take care of yourself, man” as you clambered into the driver’s side.

“Wait.. I...”

The handsome, troubled man had motioned to you and you had wound down the window, leaning your arm out the side of the truck.

“Yeah?” you had asked, with a soft smile, but the man had simply shaken his head.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost...

Nevermind.

He had looked apologetic, like maybe he wasn’t ready to subject himself to anyone just yet. As if he looked at you and saw the ghost of someone he let down standing over your shoulder. Maybe even in your face.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost...

His brows had knitted together, and he had looked down at his boots, shifting and seeking sure-footing all over again. Grounding himself.

“Listen,” you had offered, starting your engine up. “I do my weekly shop at 2pm on Sundays. You know, if you ever need some company? Or,” you had added with a smile and a casual wink, “if you ever need an excuse to check-out a nice ass again.”

He had nodded his head and pursed his lips together, before a broad grin split his features, his deep baritone now sounding full as a chuckle spills out of him.

“Good to know,” he had smiled, looking up at you shyly, and he had stepped back to let you swing the truck around and pull away, offering you a wave.

He never did tell you his name, but you had a feeling that you might be seeing him around.

Sometimes, things were simply better with company, after all.

#will miller x reader #will miller #charlie hunman #triple frontier #triple frontier fic

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gemlinz · 3 years

Text

Fulcrum ch. 4 - Roadblock (Levi x f!Reader)

Summary: It was a cruel world, she knew. She also knew better than to ask for more than her lot: being a full time barmaid and a part time thief. She helped where she could, bitterly accepted where she could not. Feared the monsters lurking outside the walls. But still - being near him, taking in his strength, his resolve - she couldn't help but hope for more. For herself. For him. For humanity.

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Mention of Child Abuse

| CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 |

Read on A03

He almost doesn’t recognize her at first, in the light of day. Usually, their meetings were at night, and she was dressed for work; be it barmaid or spy. Now though, she’s wearing civilian clothes, hair done up and neat. He can also see the defined muscles of her arms through her shawl, becoming more honed as the weeks of training go on.

The location is also unexpected- a small out of the way tea shop. It also happened to be the only one that carried his preferred brand, so he’d frequent whenever leave allowed.

F/N’s talking to the owner at the counter when he enters, not noticing him. Whatever it is must be interesting, neither of them look up at the bell.

Gritting his teeth at the sight of her, he hangs back. Let her dig her grave first.

“This one?” She points to a jar filled with loose leaves, “How long should it steep for?”

The shopkeep nods along, “That's the one - you’ll want to steep it in boiling water for 3 minutes, longer for a more mature taste.”

At her hesitation, the old man prompts with a twinkle in his eye, “It’s one of our most popular - sure to please any suitor.”

She scrambled to catch her wallet, almost dropping it in surprise.

“Oh- Oh no, nothing like that!” From behind, Levi could only see the tips of her ears glow red. His stomach clenched at the thought of the endearing blush that was probably spreading across the bridge of her nose. All for show as she continued to stutter out her cover story, “It's for a, um, friend - I work at a bar, you see…”

“You serve tea….at a bar?” The owner replied, skeptical.

F/N nodded frantically, ready to double down.

“She serves shitty tea at a bar.” Levi corrected, watching her violently startle at his voice.

“Levi!” The owner admonishes, recognizing him immediately, “You know you’re one of my favorite customers, but you can't talk to a lady like that.”

She had whipped around the second he spoke, eyes wide. Levi wasn’t buying it for a second.

Roughly grabbing her arm, he shouted over his shoulder, “She ain’t no lady, old man.” to the protesting shop owner as he forcibly dragged her outside.

“Pick another mark.” He deadpanned once they were outside, throwing her away from him. Passerby's nervously shot them looks.

She stared at him for a beat, comprehending his words as she rubbed at where he had grabbed her with a wince. Something like hurt crossed her face before quickly turning to rage.

“Fuck you, Levi.” Her eyes blazed, and Levi raised a brow at her tone; he was used to her short temper, but she was usually smarter than to direct it at him. He chalked it up to fear. “I wasn’t going to rob him. I was…” Her anger trailed off as she scrambled to explain, flushing. “Well, I was, um..”

“Convincing,” he snorted, “Get the hell out of here before I turn you in. This shop’s off limits.”

She could only stare at him. Finding only condemnation and disgust in his eyes, she clenched her jaw and nodded.

Eyes hard, she sent him one more glare before turning on her heel and all but storming down the street, fists clenched tightly at her side.

The Captain's eyes narrowed at her retreating back until she turned a corner. Once she was out of sight, he went back in; he still needed his tea.

“Yo, old man. I’ll have my-”

“Levi!” The old man started accusingly, “You can’t just scare aware my customers like that!”

“She wasn’t going to buy anything,” he scoffed, “She was casing you.” At the blank look, he continued, "That woman's a known thief, she was going to steal from you.”

“Oh,” The old man deflated, taken aback “She seemed so earnest, too. With a face like that, I really believed her.”

Levi hummed, “Yeah. I’m sure she came in with some bullshit story. While you helped her, she looked for weaknesses. Maybe even figured out where you keep your cash.”

“Yes, yes, she did have a story, now that you mention it.” The old man nodded, putting it together, “Said she was looking for a brew for a thank you gift. She seemed odd, but I thought she was just embarrassed to be buying tea for a suitor.”

Levi paused at that, then shook it off, squashing the thought.

“Yeah, any friends she has don’t drink tea. You got scammed, old man.”

Sighing, the shopkeeper shook his head.

“Such a shame. People these days, no honor.” Moving back behind the counter, he continued, “But let me get you your regular - discounted, for your help.”

“Not necessary, but I wont say no. Thanks.”

A week later and he found himself back at Louis’ pub, sitting in the same disgusting corner.

It was early - there were only a few men sitting down, getting a head start on the night.

Levi was staring so hard in disgust at the crumbs littering the table that he didn’t hear her come up until she cleared her throat.

If he was anyone else, he would have jumped. Never before had someone been able to sneak up on him.

She didn’t miss his miniscule flinch though, and her eyebrows hit her hairline. He scowled.

“Tea.” He bit out.

“We’re out,” she said with no inflection and offering no further explanation.

He stared.

“How the fuck can you be out? Don’t you keep inventory or some shit?”

“Well,” F/N began, suddenly not meeting his eyes, “I went to go get more but I was unable to.”

“You were unable to?” He deadpanned.

When she remained silently staring at the wall beside his head, he scoffed out something like a laugh.

“Yeah, I ain’t buying it. You expect me to believe that you were actually at that tea shop to buy tea? Bullshit - whatever swill you were serving me before definitely didn’t come from that shop.”

“Believe whatever you want, we still don’t have any tea.” Her face gave away nothing and Levi sighed, rubbing at his brow. Whatever she was playing at was going to give him a migraine.

“Fine.” He bit out, “I’ll take an ale. Make sure the glass is clean, or I’ll send it back.”

Brushing off his warning, she walked away to get his order. He eyed her back wearily - something was off, but he couldn’t pin it on what. She was pissed, sure, but at what? Because he ruined her heist on the tea shop? That was pennies to what Erwin was paying her, she needed to get over it.

So what was it? Did he hurt her pride? She was a good thief, a fantastic spy - what could robbing an unassuming store add to her reputation?

Could she really have been…?

No, he cut himself off. She was a thief, plain and simple. She didn’t need another reason to steal.

Even as he thought it, his mind was already contradicting himself. She was a thief - but so was he, not too long ago. Worse than that, actually. Isabel and Farlan had been too.

And despite their initial meeting, she wasn’t as awful as some people he knew. She was becoming almost tolerable, even. Though her cleaning skills were abysmal.

That played to his benefit though, as he used the ritualistic cleaning of the pub to clear his head, especially after a particularly shitty expedition. It also helped not being alone with the memories of his dead comrades. And F/N let him, oftentimes staying up much later than she would have otherwise.

Not out of the goodness of her heart, Levi reminded himself. He wasn’t an idiot - he saw her intentionally mucking up her cleanup to try and goad him into doing it for her. Not that it ever stopped him.

Their spy was also surprisingly receptive to training - she caught on quick, and only complained when he was particularly brutal. Even after only a few weeks, he was having a harder and harder time landing a hit on her - granted in a real fight she’d still be severely outmatched, but still. Any disadvantage he could give their enemies, he would.

Sighing, he watched her make her way back to him, ale in hand.

“Here you are,” she said, placing it down with a forced smile. Showmanship for any onlookers. “Anything else, sir?”

He narrowed his eyes. Her fake sweetness always made him want to gag.

“Sit.” He commanded, kicking the chair across from him out.

Her eyes widened, though her smile didn’t drop.

“U-um,” She stuttered, moving her eyes to the other customers, “Are you sure that's-”

Rolling his eyes he nodded at the chair before commanding again, more sternly, “Sit.”

Immediately she sat, ankles crossed and not looking at him. Satisfied, Levi reached for his pocket, pausing only briefly when he saw her start shaking.

She was still scared of him, he realized. He supposed that was fair - he did threaten to slit her throat. Still -

“It’s fine. You’re just sweet talking a customer for a higher tip, no one will look twice. You need to relax before some shithead gets the wrong idea.” He pulled the letter out of his pocket slowly, letting her see clearly what it was before sliding it across to her. She visibly relaxed.

“It's from our mutual friend,” He clarified, unnecessarily, “We’re going out of town for a few weeks. He has a job for you in the meantime.”

“Out of town,” She nodded, understanding, “Got it. I’ll get what I can.” She slid the letter into her apron and stood, hesitating.

“Something else?” He asked, perturbed, taking a sip of his ale before grimacing at the taste.

She shot him one last look of irritation, then returned to serving the rest of her customers. She wouldn’t stop by his table again until he had left.

As she cleared it off for the next guest, she smiled to herself at the generous stack of bills left under his half empty glass.

The job Erwin had for her was pretty easy, skill wise. She had surveyed the property a few days prior, and she didn’t foresee any real challenge - security was weak, and the guards were overpaid noble brats. What's more, the mark literally had a ledger filled with his illegal dealings, shoddily hidden in a false drawer of his desk. It would be suspicious if it wasn’t typical - the rich and powerful always thought they were untouchable.

However, as she copied down key transactions F/N quickly realized that this job was actually devastatingly hard - among other things, they were selling people - children, specifically.

With a rock in her gut, she re-read the log entry as memories hit her like a brick wall. Trying to slow her harsh breathing, she dug crescent shaped cuts into her palms with her nails. The pain brought her back to the present.

Swallowing hard, the young thief had barely made it out of the estate after copying the remaining logs. The urge to destroy this monster was strong, and she’d start with this gaudy eyesore of a castle he had made off his sales. She could almost smell the smoke, could almost hear the crackle and pop as it burned to the ground.

The threat of Erwin turning her into the MPs when suspicions grew at why this particular merchant was targeted was the only thing stopping her.

Wasn’t going to stop her from strongly urging Erwin to do something about it in her report though.

As she made her way back home, F/N felt drained. This mission was done late - so late that it was early. A night owl by nature, that fact didn’t bother her - but the quiet meant her mind kept journeying to the fringes of her memory, despite her best efforts at distraction. Her fist clenched in anger, hissing as she aggravated the cuts on her hands.

The rich and powerful were used to getting what they wanted, no matter how fucked up it was. She was living proof of that.

The pub was dark when she arrived, Louis having closed on his own hours ago. She took out her keys to unlock the back door.

“Oi.”

The keys fell to the grime covered ground as she jumped. The loud exhale behind her could have been mistaken for a laugh if she didn’t know better.

“Would you-!” She shouted, wincing at her volume in the quiet alley. Voice dropping to a whisper she continued no less angry “Would you stop doing that?”

He was leaning against the wall, out of uniform but in a cloak with the hood pulled up. She couldn’t see his face but she could feel the smirk.

“I’m here for your report.” His voice betrayed nothing, and it grated on her.

“Well, it's not done yet - I just got back.” Pausing, she added, “You’re not supposed to be back until tomorrow. Did the expedition end early?”

He was silent for a moment more before kicking off the wall, starting towards her. She took a few steps back in alarm, but froze when he picked up her keys and held them up to her.

“Yes. I’ll wait while you write it.” When she remained still, he gestured the keys to the door, waiting expectantly.

Rolling her eyes, she snatched them out of his hand, unlocking the door and letting them both into the dark bar.

Once they were both inside, F/N lit a lantern, heading towards the front. Taking one of the stacked chairs off the table and righting it, she sat.

Levi, for all his big talk, looked lost now that he was inside. He stood like a statue by the door to the back as she took out her notebook.

She tried ignoring him for a bit, but eventually grew agitated as she felt her anxiety spike at his looming presence.

“Would you sit down?” She asked, annoyed. She regretted it almost immediately, eyes darting back to her report.

He raised an eyebrow and she thought he would refuse - perhaps even violently, if their past was anything to go by - but eventually he sighed and righted one of the chairs at her table, sitting. He undid his cloak and tossed it on the chair behind him.

It was an improvement, no matter how small, and F/N could feel herself relax.

Now she just had to write a report to Erwin detailing a child slave ring without losing her shit.

She wrote down the basics; who, where, when - but felt her mind blank on the what.

Levi noticed the hesitation immediately.

“That bad?” He asked suddenly, and she almost dropped the pen at the suddenness of his question.

“Am I that obvious?” She sighed tiredly, leaning back in her chair rubbing at her face.

He snorted.

“For a spy, you have a shit poker face.” Levi paused, before leaning towards her, “What did you find?”

“Not a spy - just a thief.” She answered automatically, eying him warily. Biting her lip, she debated telling him, not sure how much Erwin wanted him to know.

But, then again, Erwin did have him restrain and beat her, so…

F/N flipped the notebook open to her copies of the ledger, sliding it over to him. The thought of saying it aloud made her want to vomit.

Levi eyed her for only a second more before turning the notebook to read. He made it about two entries before his face twisted in disgust.

“Fuck.” He cursed, pushing the notebook away from him. He stood up suddenly, and it was a testament to how tired she was that F/N didn’t even look up.

Hearing the clink of bottles, she watched him dig around the bar before setting an open whiskey bottle in front of her.

F/N met his gaze as he sat back down with his own glass, already filled with the amber liquor.

“No glass for me?” She asked.

“Last time I saw you drink, you seemed to prefer going straight to the source.” He nodded towards the bottle, downing his glass.

She stiffened at the memory. It had been seconds before he tried to shoot her. And then succeeded in breaking her nose. Fortunately for him, she was too tired right now to be anything but grateful for something to dull her mind.

Taking up the bottle, she took a long pull before setting it back on the table loudly.

They were silent for a moment, Levi helping himself to another pour. F/N took another drink.

She could feel him studying her.

“This bothers you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Child slavery bothers me, asshole, yes. Obviously.” She snapped back, stubbornly looking away. Sometimes it still stung how lowly he thought of her.

“No,” He continued, slowly, “This bothers you. It’s personal.”

F/N felt her entire body go rigid, hand clasped tightly around the whiskey bottle.

Levi’s grey eyes took it in, nodding once to himself as if he had his answer.

It was quiet for a moment. F/N took another pull of the liquor and steeled her nerves, picking up her pen once again.

She wrote the details in a clinical manner, the whiskey making her memories a bit hazier. It helped. Levi didn’t ask anymore questions.

When she finished, she sealed it and slid it across the table to him. She held it firm when he made to grab it.

At his raised eyebrow, she took a breath, not meeting his eyes.

“Tell me Erwin will do something.” Her voice was quiet, but carried weight. “Tell me that even if it doesn’t fit the Corps agenda, he won’t-” She swallowed, “He won't let them get away with this.”

Levi sighed, then set his jaw.

“That’s not our call to make.”

Shock loosened her grip enough for him to pry the report from under her fingers. He tucked it into his jacket, eyeing her warily.

Her stunned silence lasted only for a moment more before rage gave way.

“So, what, we just let them get away with it?” She was standing now, the chair falling loudly behind her, “What about the kids, Levi? Do you know what they do-” She cut herself off suddenly, a look of horror on her face as she found herself caught in her own memories.

“Do you know what they do to them?” She began again, breathing heavily, eyes unfocused, “Whatever you’re picturing, it's worse, it's literal hell, and they don’t get it - they’re too young to understand why it's happening to them - and they can’t defend themselves. And you’re telling me that for all his big hero talk that Erwin could turn his back on them...?”

She was ranting now, but Levi let her get it out before countering, “Whatever he decides, he’ll have his reasons.”

F/N slammed her hand down on the table, the whiskey bottle toppling over and spilling on the impact. His hand inched towards his knife on instinct.

“That's not good enough! You think the kids they’re brutalizing give a shit about his reasons!?”

“You need to calm down.” He ordered. “Sit back down.”

She jammed a finger in his face, towering over where he still remained seated.

“I will not calm down - fuck Erwin for using the lives of children as a bargaining chip and fuck you for letting him. If you won’t do something, then I’ll-”

F/N cut off in a gasp when he suddenly grabbed the wrist of the hand currently in his face and used it to lay her flat onto the table, arm twisted behind her. It was a frustratingly familiar position, and she saw red at her own weakness. Whiskey soaked her shirt as she tried to fight him off. He waited patiently while she raged against him, his strength not letting up. When she finally tired, breathing heavily and eyes still furious, he leaned in close, voice a menacing whisper from behind her.

“You’ll do what, F/N?” He wasn’t taunting, but his voice was uncompromising, “Storm the castle, play at being the hero again? At best you'll get yourself killed. At worst, you compromise the Corp, compromise Erwin. If you do something against what he orders, he’ll have me kill you. Or send you to the MPs, and then you’ll wish I did. This isn’t a game, and we have exactly zero say in how this plays out. Do you understand?”

When he could still see the murder in her eyes, he sighed before easing his grip up, just slightly.

“Look - I get what this means to you. And I understand the consequences if Erwin chooses not to act on this information. For what it's worth - I’ll lobby for the end of this scumbag, in the most painful ways I can imagine. But I need you to trust Erwin-” when he felt her tense again, ready to fight, he tried again, “I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

There was a long silence. Then F/N let her head rest fully against the table, looking away. She nodded in defeat.

“Good.” He stood up, pulling her with him and helping steady her. She rubbed her wrist where bruises were already starting to form.

“I need to head out. Can I trust you to not be an idiot until I get back?” He asked, dusting his coat off and fastening his cloak. When she didn’t answer, he shot her a warning look, frustration evident. “I don’t want to hurt you F/N, but you won’t enjoy it if I need to leave you a reminder.”

The young woman flinched at the threat, but nodded joltingly. “Yeah I got it, Captain.” She spit out.

Levi frowned, but could see she was taking this seriously; her fear left a bad taste in his mouth, but if the end result was her compliance, he’d take it.

“Good. Get some rest - I’ll be back when we have a new mark.” He called over his shoulder, leaving through the back and out into the night.

As soon as she heard the door close behind him, she collapsed to the floor, stifling her sobs into her hand.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi #reader insert #fanfiction #gem writes

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the-jade-cross · 3 years

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The Lannister Wolf - Part 4 Chapter 8

Brienne and Podrick stood silently watching as Evelyn carried the large direwolf towards the hole that the girl had insisted on digging by herself. Evelyn had lain Lady in her cloak and was dragging the wolf before gently rolling her inside the hole. The girl then set about shoveling earth into the hole and that was when Brienne and Podrick stepped in to help. They both knew that Evelyn held herself responsible for Lady’s death, because of her being the one to lead them into the valley. When they were finished, they helped Evelyn pile rocks on the grave to keep critters out.

Evelyn took one of the rocks and tied a ribbon around it. Brienne saw that it was a blue ribbon laced with gold. The colors of Stark and of Lannister.

“She is at peace now my lady,” Brienne told the girl. “She died doing the thing she lived for: protecting her master and even if Lady Sansa was her first master, you saved her and took her in as your own.”

Evelyn nodded, “I always knew that one of my company would die… I just never saw Lady as the one who would go. She was such a sweet soul.”

Podrick hung his head, feeling tears prick his eyes and the last thing he wanted was to cry in front of two ladies. Evelyn bent down and plucked a few of the pale pink flowers that grew nearby which she placed underneath the ribbon tied rock. Brienne frowned. Interesting choice of grave decorative.

Evelyn then turned to look at Podrick, “Where is the boy? He needs treatment.” She stated.

Podrick led Chance over and there lay the still unconscious boy, tied to the saddle. “he hasn’t moved or woken up.”

Evelyn nodded, “There should be a healer in the village. Let’s go.”

The small party slowly walked down the flower covered slope towards the village that roamed on both sides of the river in the very center of the valley between two mountains. When they entered the small village, they found that all of the houses were dome shaped thatched huts of all shapes and sizes, ranging from ne room size to six room sized ones. People poked their heads out of their houses as the group passed and when they saw that they were strangers, everyone rushed out as if they did not usually receive guests. Evelyn soon realized that none of the people were like each other…. like a million people from all over Westeros were camping out at the base of the mountains. A young woman approached the group and greeted them with a smile. She looked like she could have been from the North with pale skin and long beautiful pale reddish hair, almost a strawberry color that was partially held back by a scarf.

“Welcome to the Valley of Yalreal. I am Marinah. Who are you?” she asked sweetly.

Evelyn smiled. Surprised at how the woman’s round cheeks and button nose seemed so familiar, “I am Evelyn… Stark Lannister. These are my sons and my friends. I was told to come here to see the Keeper of the Temple of Earth… Varsha. I was sent by Brisingr and Audra.”

The woman’s green eyes widened before she beamed, “So you are the Warlock, the prophesized dragon who would bring flame back to the world. It is an honor to have you here. You must be exhausted. My husband will show you to a spare hut so you may rest.”

The man that approached made Evelyn freeze. He was a tall, strongly built man that reminded Evelyn of a bear… just without the grizzly. He easily stood over six foot with shortly cut blond hair, a firm jawline and piercing blue eyes. The girl shook herself out of her thoughts and spoke.

“We have a boy…. From the fog of the dead.”

The couple’s faces fell in sadness for they realized that the guess had just lost a friend, “We have healers who will care for him. Izac.”

The man gently lifted the boy from the back of the horse and carried him away as Marinah showed the group to the two empty huts. Podrick and Brienne took one while Evelyn and the others took the other.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Evelyn told the woman. “How long have you been here in the valley?”

The woman sighed, “Over ten years. All of us have lived here for a long time. This place has been a refuge for slaves who escaped their masters, bastards who were treated like dirt and for other people running from evil. Varsha has welcomed all clean of heart for centuries but…. After Izac and I came here, Varsha sealed the fog and refused to let anyone but the promised elementals through. The world was too dangerous after Robert’s Rebellion and in an attempt to protect the valley, the refugees and the dead fog, he closed it all off, hid it… and disappeared into the mountains. No one has seen Varsha since.”

Evelyn’s heart fell, ‘Varsha is not here?”

Marinah nodded, “I am afraid so… but since you are here, I am sure the keeper will emerge. Rest now. Your friend will wake soon.”

Evelyn nodded and set about cleaning and changing the boys before laying them down for their naps. She discarded her clothes and changed into a dress and smock that Marinah left her. she tucked her leather outfit underneath her arm and headed out. It didn’t take her long to find the healer hut for it was the second largest hut in the village. The old man who was evidently the maester was tending to the boy when Evelyn entered and he smiled at her.

“What have you got there?” he asked, pointing at her bundle.

“I need a place to burn the past,” she explained to the old maester.

The man pointed to the roaring fire in the corner, “help yourself.”

Evelyn crouched by the fireplace before she shoved the leather into the flames. She would never wear the same clothes that she wore when one of her comrades fell. All of Lady must be put to rest and a new chapter of Evelyn’s life must begin…. Without Lady in it. the girl rose and joined the old man at the boy’s side.

“What happened to him? I mean… before he ended up in the fog of the dead? How did he die?” she asked.

The old man hummed, “I am not very clever when it comes to recognizing the work of different weapons. You would have to ask Celia that. She was a healer in her earlier years before she took up holding the catalog of the fallen. She said something about hoping to never find the names of her family…. Anyway, it looks like he was stabbed in his gut a few times and then his throat was slit… but the weapons used were strange and oddly shaped and the cut on his neck looks like the weapon was dull… or blunt. He’ll have scars for the rest of his life.”

Just when those last words left the maester’s lips, the boy shot up in bed with a gasp and he panted heavily, eyes wide and face flushed as he looked around. When he saw Evelyn, he froze.

“You…. You are Evelyn Stark… I know you…” he gasped.

Evelyn’s eyes widened, “That is correct…. Forgive me but how did you know my name? I have never seen you before and certainly do not know your name. I only brought you out of the fog of the dead… you had been stabbed and your throat slit.”

The boy nodded, “I know you…. You look just like he described… your brother Bran… he spoke of you often…”

Evelyn’s eyes widened, “Bran is alive!?”

The boy grinned, “Aye…. So is Rickon. I am Jojen…. Jojen Reed.”

#got #game of thrones #Jaime Lannister #jaime lannister x oc

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yeet-or-be-hawed · 4 years

Text

Hunters of Flesh and Money Part 5 Arthur Morgan x Reader

After being invited to work security detail at Bronte’s party, you aren’t expecting to see a familiar outlaw dressed to impress at the party.

Things are starting to heat up! This series has been such a joy and its making my heart full to finally get some romance going after the building slow burn!

Part 4

Master list

The sun had set the sky ablaze, leaving streaks of pink, orange, and red across the horizon. You inhaled deeply, taking the dry hot air into your lungs. It had been years since you were in New Austin and as you scanned the flat horizon, not much had changed. You liked that, back east it felt as if there were new buildings or houses or farms popping up on every corner. Civilization was pulled to an immediate halt when you crossed the West Elizabeth border into Hennigan’s Stead.

A pang of guilt prodded you, you told yourself you would bring Arthur next time you made the long journey west, but crossing a border is hard enough when there’s one bounty-crossing with another outlaw put you in twice as much danger, or atleast that’s what you told yourself. The deeper truth was you were ashamed. Your last encounter ended awkwardly to say the least and every letter you had attempted to write him since then has ended up in a crumpled ball on the floor. You sighed, perhaps he didn’t even remember, or maybe you were just drunk and over thinking it-what if he wasn’t even trying to kiss you? You had begun to think of Arthur as a close ally, there was no point in losing such a skilled gunman as a comrade. You swallowed you emotions and pulled out your camera; after a few failed attempts, you were able to hold the camera up and get a proper picture of yourself posing with the sunset. You frowned- your smile was too wide and it made your eyes look like they were closed, and damn, couldn’t you have chosen some cleaner clothes to wear? Your cheeks turned pink and you rolled your eyes, you had never once felt so self conscious of a picture before but the sun was setting quickly and you had already missed most of the day’s last light. You whistled for your horse- she was a strong mare and you took to her quicker than you thought though you still missed Garbanzo- though you’re western home was more preferable to your eastern counterpart it was much less friendlier at night. You spotted your horse as it raced across the valley, you took a step forward to meet her and a flash of purple caught your eye-desert sage. You bent over to pick the flower and stuck it in your satchel with the photo just as your horse trotted up beside you. You rode to the nearby post station and sat down with pen and paper beside an oil lamp.

Arthur,

I have to apologize, I wasn’t able to bring you with me this time but I hope these help bring back some pleasant memories. It’ll be a long ride from Tumbleweed back to the Heartlands, but I’ll send for you and Sadie when I return. Maybe we can get a few drinks-my treat. Wish you were here.

You stuck the sage and the phot in the envelope and sealed it tight. “One delivery please.”

“And who is to receive this parcel?” Said the post man.

“Tacitus Kilgore.”

He raised his brows and you had to stifle your chuckle. “Oh-Kay... anything else I can do for ya, Miss?”

“You got anything for a Marisol Fletcher?” You asked.

“One moment.” The man shuffled around the small booth and pulled out a single parcel. “Just one.”

You paid the man for your mail sat on a near by bench. The paper of the envelope felt thick-fancy. One look at the crest on the seal and you knew exactly who it was from.

Arthur wiped his brow as he dropped the haybale in front of the horses. His entire body felt sticky from the heavy humid air of Lemoyne. This was the last of his chores and he was making a beeline straight for his cool shaded room in Shady Belle when Hosea came around the corner. “Ah, there you are Arthur. Picked this up at the post office this morning.”

Arthur tipped his hat as he took the envelope from Hosea. He sat down on the old stairs of the porch as he opened the letter. Inside were a small folded letter, a photograph, and a dried flower. He thought the handwriting on the outside of the envelope was familiar, his hunch was confirmed when he spotted the F signed at the bottom of the page. The letter was short and sweet, and the last line made his chest tighten. Wish you were here.

He tried not to think about his blunder last time he saw you, it had been so long since he had heard from you he was beginning to think maybe he had offended you, so it was nice getting the letter. If you were all the way in Tumbleweed that would certainly explain your absence, that is one hell of a ride even by coach. He pulled out the picture and smiled, there you were beautiful as ever. Your smile was beaming, and though the sunset was meant to be the center of the photo, he couldn’t stop looking at you. He closed his eyes and just for a moment allowed himself to imagine being there with you-sitting on a rock talking and laughing, watching the sun fall behind the ridges. He imagined you smiling at him with that big toothy smile, it made his heart yearn so tenderly for the first time in years. He cleared his throat as his mind threw the image of you recoiling away from him for the millionth time. He groaned and pulled the dried flower out to inspect it. He looked it over and gave it a final sniff for confirmation- it was desert sage. It was actually in decent condition considering it had been through the post service which is known for not being the gentlest.

He lifted the flower to his nose as he stared at the picture, this was all he needed to remedy his home sickness- even if you would’ve asked him to go he would’ve declined. Even if he did manage to make it back alive Dutch would’ve killed him for being so reckless.

“Whatcha got there, Arthur?” He was pulled suddenly from his thoughts and jumped. Sadie laughed. “Well whatever it is must be important if you’re that focused on it.”

He cleared his throat and tried to hide the pink tone of his cheeks behind his hat. “Nothin’- just a letter from Fletcher.”

She snatched it out of his hands quicker than he could stop her, “and nothin’ fer me?”

“Now you just-“ Arthur stammered as he tried to snatch the letter and photo back from Sadie’s hands. She scanned it quickly and looked at the photo then back to him. He felt more heat rush to his cheeks as he couldn’t read the strange look on Sadie’s face. “Oh Arthur, you dog.” She giggled.

“What?” He grabbed back the letter and picture quickly. “Why you lookin’ at me like that for?”

“No reason,” she smirked. “I just had no idea you were such a ladies’ man, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur stuttered over his words, “I ain’t- this isn’t...it ain’t like that with her.”

Sadie took a seat beside him. “Well, what is it like then?”

“It’s...it’s like” he sighed and dropped his head. “I don’t know what it’s like, to be honest with ya.”

Sadie slapped Arthur’s back a little too hard pushing an oof from his lungs. “Sounds just like how me and Jake started out.” Arthur began to argue and she cut him off. “I ain’t insinuatin’ nothin’ just makin’ an observation.”

“Well keep yer observations to yerself.” He grumbled. He wouldn’t look at her, but Sadie could see the forced grumpy look on his face and the blush he was trying desperately to hide. She stood, “and tell that girl if she even thinks of writin’ to you without writin’ to me too she can expect to never have my cookin’ again.”

Arthur chuckled and waved to her as she left. With a stretch he stood and quickly headed to his room before anyone else question him or send him back out on a job. He gently placed the dried flower into his journal to properly press and he placed your photo with the rest of his collection.

Arthur tugged at his collar uncomfortably and Dutch smacked his hand away. “C’mon Arthur, it ain’t that bad.”

“You ain’t the one gettin’ choked by your own collar.” He looked out the window of the coach. “How much longer to the mayor’s house anyways?”

Hosea poured Arthur a glass of champagne and handed it to him. “We’re just about to cross into Saint Denis now, have a drink before we go in. It’ll loosen ya up.”

Arthur chugged the glass and Hosea poured him another. By the time the coach pulled up to the large manor, Arthur had a small buzz, just enough to relax and put on that lazy grin. He wasn’t paying much attention to the man leading them through the house as he was observing every door, hall, and window in the house. They were there for business, after all.

Bill and Hosea split off from him and Dutch, headed out to the party to find leads. Arthur followed Dutch as they were led to a balcony where they were greeted by Angelo Bronte and a small group of men Arthur did not recognize. He did not trust this man, something about him seemed to give the air of a snake in sheep’s clothing. He felt unnerved through the entire conversation, the men behind him seemed to corner them in and Dutch hardly noticed. Arthur puffed his cigar in an attempt to ease himself of the situation. Luckily for him, Dutch was the more social butterfly and took control of conversation while Arthur scanned the crowd below. He watched as Hosea and Bill swam through the crowd of people, being around so many people made him uneasy.

“...must return to the party with our friends.” Dutch jabbed Arthur in the side and grabbed his attention.

Angelo nodded and raised a glass to them. “Yes yes, go and enjoy the party.” He paused and gave them a suspicious look. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, I’ve got eyes in places you wouldn’t imagine.”

Dutch laughed weakly, “yes, of course.”

“What the hell do you think he meant by that?” Arthur whispered as the descended the stairs.

“I have no idea.” Dutch responded. “Just be careful, and if something looks suspicious you get the hell outta there, got it?”

Arthur nodded. When they stepped out onto the patio, Bill and Hosea had already moved to join them.

“What’s the plan, Dutch?” Hosea asked.

“See what information you can find, about the bank, the trolly station, anything that you think will be useful. But be careful, I think our good friend Mr. Bronte is growing suspicious.” He paused, then turned to Hosea, “and no pick pocketing! We need to keep a low profile.”

Hosea nodded and blended into the crowd, Bill followed suit. Dutch turned to Arthur. “Now, I want you to find the mayor. See if he’s as incompetent as Mr. Bronte seems to think he is.”

Arthur nodded and put on his best smile as he wadded through the bog of Saint Denis’ Finest.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you looked over yourself in the bathroom mirror. The house was forbidden for guests, but you weren’t a normal guest. When Angelo wrote to you, he insisted you come to his ball at the mayor’s house- not as a guest but as security. Apparently some local gang of “greased up cow fuckers” were giving him touble. You and Angelo went way back, exchanging IOUs over the years and this time it was you who was in debt to him. Your job was simple- play the role of a high society lass and keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious. For who would suspect a beautiful young thing like you to be so dangerous? As he stated in his letter. But he was quite right in his gross assumption- no one looks twice at the high society women at these events, much less expects them to be under cover security.

When you exited the bathroom, you noticed a large figure turn the corner at the end of the hall and narrowed your eyes. You slowly peaked around the corner and your suspicions were confirmed. It seemed one of the house guests were ignoring the very explicit “no entering the house” rule and when he dug a lock pick from his pocket, you knew his intentions were not looking for the bathroom. Before turning the corner, you hitched your dress and pulled your pistol from the holster on your thigh. You had to fight the urge to groan, this damn dress was so poofy it was ridiculous to expect you to pull a gun at a moment’s notice. After adjusting yourself, you peaked around the corner and the man was still there. You approached behind him silently, and as he got closer you could distinguish his features. Broad shoulders, brown hair slicked back with pomade, he looked familiar but his beard was shaved almost completely away to nothing but a five o’clock shadow. You were right behind him now and you were quite certain it was him.

Arthur felt the lock click and smirked as the door opened in front of him. His victory was short lived, as soon as he took a step into the office he felt the muzzle of a gun on the back of his head. “Shit.” He whispered. Before he could turn around two hands forcefully pushed him through the threshold and the door closed behind him quickly. The room was completely dark and he couldn’t see a thing. He tensed for a fight, trying to listen for which direction his opponent would strike him for.

After shutting the door behind you, you turned on the lamp next to you and crossed your arms. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Arthur gaped in surprise. You were the last person he was expecting to see and he definitely never expected to see you like this. Your hair was pinned into a beautiful updo and the giant scar on your face was almost completely covered behind the makeup you were wearing. His cheeks flushed as he noticed your dress- your chest was almost completely bare, a wide dropping neck line that danced on the line between decency and decadence. The bodice of the dress held you snug, every curve of your body was accented and the deep crimson color of the dress played off your skin tone perfectly. Suddenly his mouth was dry and he had no words.

You were just as taken aback by him as he was of you. His three piece tuxedo hugged his chest tight you noticed as you followed him into the room that his pants did wonders for that ass of his too. His face was clean, any spec of dust had been thoroughly scrubbed away and his stubble revealed his scar on his chin a little more promptly. His jawline looked sharper and more square without the beard to soften it and his eyes were clear gleaming pools of cyan. He looked devastatingly handsome. He was the first to speak. “I thought there was a strict no gun rule here.”

“Yeah well, some of us get special clearance from Mr. Bronte.”

“How do you know Bronte?” Arthur felt his jealousy bubbling up again, is that why you were all dressed up? Surely you weren’t here with someone, sure as hell not that slimy eel. Could you?

“We been acquaintances for years now. I knew him back when he was just some slicked up Italian immigrant fresh off the boat. Ain’t too fond of the man he’s become, but it ain’t none a my business what he does. He asked me to help with some security detail. But what I’m doin’ here ain’t important, what are you doin‘ here?”

Arthur’s gaze moved to the floor. “Why? So you can tell ol’ Bronte what I’m doin’?”

You rolled your eyes. “Course not. I been bored this whole night till I saw you. I want to help.”

He raised his brow, “you sure? It could get you in trouble with Mr. Bronte.”

You barked a laugh, “I could care less. Now c’mon cowboy, whatcha lookin’ for?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “I heard the mayor talkin’ bout doin’ business with Leviticus Cornwall. Somethin’ bout some signed documents.”

“Okay,” you started. “First off, we’re in the wrong office. This is the mayor’s assistant’s office. The mayor’s office is just a little further down the hall.” You peaked out the door and the hallway was empty. “Follow me.”

The two of you snuck out of the office and you turned off the lamp and relocked the door behind you. Just down the hall, you stopped in front of a large mahogany door. Arthur felt a little dumb for not seeing this door as the obvious choice. “You still got that lock pick?” You asked.

He nodded and handed it to you. It had been years since you used one of these but after a little work the lock clinked and unlocked. The two of you stepped into the office and you locked the door behind you. “Okay,” you whispered. “All the important documents should be in that desk over there.”

Together the two of you went through all the drawers. There wasn’t much besides a money clip and some fine brandy, until you got the the bottom drawer on your side. “Arthur, come pick this real fast.”

Without a word Arthur flawlessly unlocked the drawer. Inside were all kinds of incriminating documents, Arthur dug through them until he found what he was looking for. He promptly stuffed them into his coat pocket and closed the drawer back gently and locked it.

“Got it” He whispered.

“Great, let’s-“ the click of the door unlocking alerted you and you grabbed Arthur and pushed him against the wall quickly. “Follow my lead.” Before he could process what was happening, you pulled his hands to your hips and your lips crashed against his.

Your cheeks were hot and you tried not to think about how tightly he pulled you close and the way his hands moved down to grip your ass. His lips were moving with yours now and his tongue was brushing against your lips in a hungry manner.

He couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him as your fingers entwined in his hair and gently pulled. When the door burst open the two of you pulled apart in false surprise. His arms remained clasped around you. “Oh my lord!” You gasped, almost a little too dramatically.

The chambermaid who walked in on you turned quite red in the face. “I-I’m sorry to interrupt but the house is off limits to guests.”

“Yes, of course” Arthur cleared his throat and took your hand in his. “Come on, darlin’.” As he led you out of the room he slipped the chambermaid a bill and gave her a devilish grin, “do me a favor and keep this between just us, okay?”

She averted her eyes quickly and shuffled into the room to slam the door behind you. Arthur led you back down the stairs to the party, but he was still clinging to your hand. Your face felt like it was on fire, the way his lips felt against yours was so much better than you imagined and the intensity of the kiss had you reeling.

When you didn’t immediately take your hand back, Arthur decided he wanted to hold it as long as possible. The kiss kept running through his head, the way your body felt against his, the silky material of your dress under his fingertips. It was hard to not imagine if he could’ve gone further. Of course you had no intention of taking it further as it was only a distraction but...his mind kept raking over how deeply you kissed him, the passion he felt as you pulled yourself around him. It couldn’t have just been nothing, could it? Arthur felt himself tense as he made his way back to the crowd. Anyone could be watching.

You put your spare hand on his back between his shoulder blades, “let’s dance.” You whispered. “We can get lost in the crowd, and if that maid is suspicious she’ll be watching us.”

“Okay,” He whispered. He led you to a spot where the crowd was thickest and wrapped his arms around your waist. It was the first time the two of you looked at eachother since the kiss. “I ain’t much of a dancer.”

You looped your arms around his neck, “neither am I.” The two of you swayed to the rhythm of the band, something about his face looked softer, more tender. His eyes were darting around uneasily, you took his cheek in your palm and gave him a smile. “Relax, youre at a party.” His stubble scratched against your palm but his cheek was so soft. When his eyes met yours it made your stomach leap to your throat. “I mean, act relaxed or uh, ya know, suspicious.”

He let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, I getcha.”

You swayed together in silence for a moment before you leaned your head against his chest. He prayed you couldn’t hear the way he heart sped up by the simplest touch.

“I’m sorry bout earlier,” You blurted out. “If that was too much.”

Arthur scoffed. Too much? He couldn’t get enough. Or atleast, that’s what he wanted to say. The fear of rejection made its way back to the fire front of his mind. “It weren’t nothin’. Don’t worry bout it.” He tried to swallow the lump that had formed so stubbornly in his throat. “You had any troubles with your trade routes since I last seen ya?”

You smiled against his chest. He was almost a whole head taller than you. “Nah, he was just the one. I never got ta thank ya properly after that. You really helped us out, I don’t know what woulda happened if you weren’t there.” You have a short laugh. “Well I do know, I’d be dead. So thank you Arthur.”

“You just let me know if anyone else starts givin’ ya trouble, ya here? I’ll make sure they never both let you again.” He cleared his throat as he scanned the surrounding area. No one seemed to be watching but he wasn’t trying to end the dance quite yet. “Told Trelawny bout our little escapade, he seemed quite surprised you needed help. I don’t rightly think he believed me.”

You smirked, “I ain’t never been one to ask for help, but I guess we make a damn good team.” Arthur took your hand and spun you, taking you by surprise. “I thought you said you weren’t much of a dancer.” You giggled.

When he pulled you back in, his arm looped around your lower waist and holding you close. “Don’t mean I don’t know a trick or two.”

His face was so close to yours now, and it didn’t feel so alarming this time. “Well Mr. Morgan, aren’t you just full of surprises?”

He responded with a dip, and when he brought you back up he smirked. “I guess you could say that.”

The song ended, and a livelier tune filled the air. The couples around you began to break apart and leave the dancefloor in search of conversation and refreshments. When you pulled apart, Arthur kept one hand on the small of your back as the two of you exited the dance floor. You caught two flutes of champagne and handed him one. “Say Arthur, you ain’t seen my new horse yet, have ya?”

He took a swig of champagne. “I haven’t.”

This time you took his hand and you had that same big toothy grin as you did in the photo and you led him away from the party and to the stables. You sipped on your glass as you walked. “I miss my big boy, but this girl is real beaut. I think you’ll like her.”

You led him to the third stall, where a beautiful silver dapple Fox Trotter was waiting patiently. “She’s gorgeous, what’s her name?” he exclaimed. gave her a pat on the nose and turned back to you. “Surprised you went with such a small horse, trading in size for speed, huh?”

“Her name is Ophelia.” You rolled your eyes. “She’s still bigger than your trick pony! But I will admit, it is pretty nice. I ain’t never had a horse fly like she does.” You scanned the stables for Arthur’s white horse. “Where’s yours? I would fancy ditchin’ this party for a good ol’ fashion race.”

“I rode in on a coach with a few of the boys, so no race tonight but I’ll hold ya to that one.” Fireworks were going off back at the party and he pulled out his pocket watch. It was getting late, Hosea and the others were probably looking for him. “I’m sure they’re probably wonderin’ where the hell I’m at.”

“Well let’s head back to the party.” You tugged at your dress. “I’m ready to get this damn thing off anyways.”

Arthur chuckled, “Same here. I ain’t cut out for this formal wear.”

“Amen.” You clinked your glass against his and downed the last bit of the champagne. You knocked your hip against his and he looked at you. “I’m glad I saw you tonight. I didn’t expect to have fun tonight.”

He smiled, “neither did I. Good thing you were here, I don’t think I woulda gotten so lucky earlier if you hadn’t-if it weren’t for you.” He hoped it was too dark for you too see the flush swelling in his cheeks.

When the two of you reached where the edge of the garden met the party, you stopped. “I guess I should retire for the night, I got a long ride back to camp.”

“Aw come on, it ain’t gettin’ that late.” He tried to sound more jovial than disappointed.

You rubbed your neck sheepishly. “Cripp’s has us set up just outside a Cumberland Forest, plus I gotta return this dress to Mr. Bronte.”

“Why don’t you stay with us for the night?” He blurted. Surely Dutch wouldn’t mind, he was certain Dutch would have had enough liquor by now he could convince him of just about anything. “In the mornin’ you can head back.”

“That’s sweet Arthur, but I gotta get back. Cripps has been by himself since I left for Tumbleweed and I’m sure he’ll have plenty of work for me to do tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

Maybe you had a few too many glasses of champagne, but in that moment, the two of you standing close holding each other’s gaze everything else seemed to fade away, just background noise. Neither knowing what to say, but not wanting to be the first to turn and leave. Your stomach was in knots, but the feeling of his lips on yours kept coming back to you, the sound of the guttural groan he made when you entwined your fingers in his hair. Was it him or the alcohol that was making you so light headed? He turned to back to the party and you acted without thinking. “Wait-” you grabbed his hand and he looked down at you hand and back to you, “I-I wanted to...”

When you squeezed his hand and looked at him with those pleading eyes he gulped. He was certain you were moving towards him now, and he moved in too. His hand was moving up to cup your cheek as your faces were inches apart when Bill’s voice boomed behind him. “Morgan! Morgan, is that you?”

The two of you froze and you looked away, your cheeks pink. “I’m gonna kill that man.” He grumbled.

You giggled and gave his hand a final squeeze before letting go. “It’s okay, I know you need to go.” You looked back to the large house. “I should go too. I had a wonderful time with you tonight.”

He sighed. “Me too.” When you turned to go he caught your hand. You turned back and he gingerly kissed the back of your hand. “Til next time.”

You smiled and waved back at him as you returned to the manor. “Until next time Mr. Morgan.”

His eyes followed you as you skirted the edge of the party to retreat to the house. Bill’s big hand caught his shoulder. “We been lookin’ for you all night!”

He rolled his eyes, “yeah well, you found me, happy?”

Bill scoffed. “I’m ready to get the hell outta here.” He led Arthur back to the stables, where Hosea and Dutch were waiting and ready to go with the coach. “Who was that anyways?”

“Who?” Arthur tried to sound nonchalant.

“Don’t play stupid, Morgan. That woman, that’s who.”

“A woman, eh?” Hosea piped in.

“Come on boys, Arthur can tell us on the road!” Dutch bellowed.

Arthur groaned and filed in the coach behind the others. He’d remind himself to kick Bill extra hard in the morning for this. The men grilled him the entire way home.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #hunters of flesh and money #arthur x oc #arthur morgan x oc #fluff #pining #slow burn #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdo #red dead online #red dead online oc #fletcher #things are getting spicy #and im living #van der linde gang

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jpat82 · 5 years

Text

Winning Her Back

@kitkatkl requested this months ago and finally got around to finishing it.

4.) somehow you don't even have to open your mouth to make my brain hurt.

9.) four out of the five voices in head think you're an idiot. And the last one is deciding where to bury you.

17.) cute little blade you got there

24.) we've got to stop meeting like this. - you kidnapped me fuckboat.

Kitkatkl

You wandered the darkened streets, attitude sour after your last fight. Stepping in a puddle that had gathered on the street as you looked both ways before darting across the damped black top. You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets, tucking your head further into your hood as a brisk gust of wind kicked the rain up into your face. The ice cold spray stung the small gash on your cheek, pissing you off further.

A couple of burly looking men gathered outside the bar, standing under the overhang, cigarettes glowing a deep red as they took a drag. Hearty laughter bellowed out from them as you neared the door, you repressed the urge to roll your eyes as you brushed past them in an attempt to get to the door.

"Hey sweet cheeks, ain't it a little late for a pretty little thing like you to be out by yourself?" The biggest of them asked. He was six foot at least, and well over 300. His Snow White beard was overgrown and he had something green stuck in it.

"Piss off." You hissed back, pulling the door open only to be stopped.

"Aw, come on. That ain't how a lady is supposed to talk." He smirked, keeping his massive hand on the door.

"Good thing I ain't no lady." You growled, flipping a knife out of your pocket aimed at his crotch. "Now, I'm not going to ask to you, piss off and leave me alone."

He visibly cringed, snapping his hand away from the door and held it up in surrender. Slowly the man backed away, the comrades laughing behind him. Yanking the door open, you didn't avert your glare till you went to step inside.

"Cute little blade you got there." Came up from behind you, instinctively you rolled your eyes before turning around to look at the scar covered face of the one and only Wade Wilson. It had been months since you last saw him, since the falling out that cause the two of you break up.

A part of you wanted to wrap your arms around him and either strangle the life out of him or just hold on for dear life. There was no in between so you rolled eyes so he could see this time and walked away, heading to the packed counter of the bar.

My girl, so simple, beautiful, ready kill me. It's been two months since that horrible rainy night, I boom boxed Endless Love outside her window and she threw two knives into me. It was heart wrenching.

"Somehow you don't even have to open your mouth to make my brain hurt." You muttered to yourself knowing he was doing that internal monologue again while looking at you like a little lost puppy.

She's talking to me!

"Sweet little sex kitten," Wade cooed as he quickly caught up, you spun on your heel knife extended.

"Save it Wilson, not interested in listening to what ever you have to sell." You spat out, knife up and ready at his throat, like it would any good but it made you feel like maybe, just maybe he would actually get it through his thick scar covered skull.

She knows, she knows that I love a game of hard to get. And she has her second favorite knife against my throat, that beautiful little twinkle in her eye. My murderous goddess.

"Fuck, you can't even go a minute without that damn monologue in your head, can you?" You sighed dropping your arm and turning away from him.

"Told you hard to get." Wade stated, looking toward the wall, where absolutely nobody was.

You didn't bother to acknowledge it as you went straight for the bar. The two of you had a falling out mainly because of his need to talk to thin air, or his peeps, that was his favorite thing to call 'them'. At first, it was annoying, and then you got used to it because he had made such an effort to get to know you, something most people didn't do. And then, you got paid to hunt some people down and spend a good while away from the man in red and black and when you back it was worse then ever.

Now, you tried to ignore him at all costs, which was harder then you had thought it would be.

Wade first kept breaking into the apartment even after you rigged a small explosive devise to the window. You came home to him regrowing his right arm and part of his mask melted to his face, laying casually in your bed quoting 'paint me like one of your French girls'.

Then it was showing up on the hits, one time standing outside the window of the factory blaring Endless Love on a boombox. You didn't have nearly enough knifes to throw at him, you literally through all twenty knives into him and he giggled. Don't make me blush, those were his exact words and if had you had a chainsaw people would be finding the man every couple miles down the interstate.

After that it was the stalking.. and not even the best stalking, between the Mission Impossible theme, Steve Irwin impressions, and straight up talking to his 'peeps' it was impossible for you not to notice.

That lead you to this moment in time. The one where you ordered your whiskey while Wade stood next to the juke box playing She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5, giving the big doe eyes from across the room. Dear lord, all you needed was for him to back off and yet.

"Come on, y/n, give him another chance. Yes he's a creep asshole with no boundaries, or filter, but he deserves another chance." Weasel told you, pushing his glasses back a bit.

"No."

"I tried." He yelled over the music holding his arms up. You took a deep breath and looked over shoulder, Wade hung his head.

That was the last thing you remembered before waking in a barn.

Granted it had been a while since you woke strapped to a chair, not that that helped your mood. You took a deep breath try to keep from screaming at the top of your lungs.

“Ain’t she a butte? A y/n, in her natural habitat. Crikey.” You heard from behind you, the fake Australian accent pissing you even further.

“Wade.” You hissed.

“We’ve got to stop meet like this.” He said hopping out from behind you, framing his hands around his masked face.

“You kidnapped me, fuckboat.” You snapped back, leaning forward. The white eyes of the mask got larger, no doubt because he was attempting to look shocked.

“Is that anyway to talk to your host?” He asked.

“Wade, if you don’t untie me, the way I’m talking you isn’t going to matter, because I’m going to put a bullet up your ass.” You replied calmly.

“You don’t like guns.” He said softly, making you take a deep breath and counting to ten in your head.

“I also don’t like waking up being strapped in a chair and yet here we are.” You countered.

“Can we just like.. talk, like civilized girls?” He asked, and right now you would just do about anything to get out of the chair, without restraints, and out of the barn.

“Alright, on two conditions.” You told him, closing your eyes.

Yay!

“And those are?” He asked after clearing his throat.

“One you have to untie me.” You told him sternly.

“But you’ll hit me.” He whined as he stood. You had half the mind to stab again.

“And two, we have to have the conversation another day. Like in two days from now so I can cool down, cause otherwise I will hit you, with a semi truck repeatedly till your a Deadpool pancake.” You told him as you felt the ropes loosen and fall to the floor.

You stood and turned to look at him. His head was bowed and his shoulders slumped and it almost made you feel guilty. Almost. Till you remembered that odds are he had Weasel drug you.

“I’ll talk to you later, Wilson.” You stated and walked toward the barn door.

There she goes, my girl. But, at least I’m getting her to talk to me. And she called me Wilson, not Wade. I’m over half way back to winning her over.

Permanent tag-

@kitkatkl @octobermermaid @ajosieface @instantnoodlese @crystlblu @coffeebooksandfandom @thisismysecrethappyplace @the-wayward-robot @lokilvrr @shynara51 @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl @loislp @savedbyimagination @bubblycypres87 @ifyousayyouloveme @courtmr @blue-cat-1989 @saharzek @lokiodinsoninwriting

#deadpool x you #deadpool one shot #deadpool #deadpool x reader #wade wilson x you #wade wilson one shot #wade wilson x reader #my girl

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faveficarchive · 5 years

Text

At a Distance - Part 4

by Melissa Good

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: PG-13

Synopsis: This is a novel-length fic, and a classic in the community. Xena and Gabrielle start to explore the changes in their relationship, Gabrielle is recalled to the Amazons where she has to deal with a bit of treachery, and Xena is, as always, there to protect.

The Amazon village path...

Now the feeling was much stronger, Xena realized, as she was closer, and the danger greater... but the fact that she could still feel something gave her heart, and she ran, with long powerful strides down the long path, and over the ridge to the place where the two territories marched the same border. She passed slumped forms, of both centaurs and Amazons, and didn’t stop.

Once over the ridge, she could see down into the village, and what she saw almost stopped her heart. A tree. Centaur children, and two woman facing off with staves. One, she knew. And the knowing grabbed her chest like vise. The other, she realized had to be Arella.

Two days of traveling, mountains, knife wounds, all became irrelevant. What mattered now was speed. And she ran. Down the ridge, and across the open grasslands that separated the two villages. Feeling the breath come tight in her chest, and ignoring it. Keeping her strides long, and loose, and absorbing the ground irregularities like a bouncing ball.

Up the next ridge, and then she could see into the village again, and a surge of fear that was now her own exploded across her mind as she saw the woman. And the crossbow. And the target.

And then she was at the top of the ridge, and down the embankment, and coming in as fast as she could across the small hillock that blocked their sight of her approach.

Arella squeezed the trigger, and felt the weapon release. Goodbye, green eyes. She saluted the woman, who, after all this, decided to die bravely.

Xena saw the finger whiten on the trigger, and lost any sense of perspective she might have had. Three more long steps to the top of the hillock, then she was launching into mid air Hitting the ground with stunning force, and using the momentum to launch sideways, to get every bit of length out of her long body. To stretch out and will her hand to close around a crossbow quarrel that was traveling too fast for any human to possibly catch.

And felt her fingers close around wood and feathers. Bare inches before the throat of the kneeling Queen of the Amazons. Who gasped in recognition even through the driving rain, and the speed she was traveling.

Rolling to a stop, trying to bleed some momentum, then bounding back up to catch the second quarrel, and snap it in one hand. A bounce on the balls of her feet, and then she was moving foreword, towards Arella, who was grimly loading the crossbow again.

Three steps, and she was airborne, and one powerful kick took out the crossbow, the second took out Arella, crunching against her breastbone, and knocking her flat.

Arella hauled herself to her feet, and felt within for that battle fever. Found it, and with that energy, rushed the dark haired, blood covered warrior facing her. She pulled her knife, and slashed at Xena, only to have her arm caught, and held, and then wrenched backwards with a crunching sound that drove her to her knees in agony. The she was picked up by the neck, and a fist smashed against her jaw, with an explosion of searing pain.

Then she was lifted, and shoved against a tree. She opened her eyes, and looked into those chips of ice across from her.

Xena let her alone for a minute, allowing her to feel the pain. To sense the power it took to keep her pinned in place like this. To think about that. Then she ducked her head closer, and sent her voice to it’s lowest register.

"You’re very lucky" she said, staring into Arella’s eyes. "You’re lucky your little ambush didn’t hold me up. You’re lucky I stopped that arrow." She shoved her harder against the tree. "Because if I hadn’t, there would be pieces of you scattered all over this courtyard. " She grinned. "You believe me?"

Arella nodded.

"Good." Xena nodded back. "Because if you ever even think about hurting her again, they’ll have to mop up what’s left of you with a sea sponge." A pause. "Got it?"

Waited for the terror to show in her eyes. And it did. Arella nodded again. Xena picked her up in a double handed grasp, then looked around. She spotted a large mud hole nearby, and with negligent ease, tossed the woman into it. Then stood for a long moment, letting the rain wash off the blood, and the dirt, and the total exhaustion.

Gabrielle had watched that arrow as it left the crossbow, mentally saying a few last things. To herself. To Xena. When the arrow was snatched out of midair, she never considered any other possibility as to who it was. And it was a like standing under a warm waterfall, the relief was that great. Then Cait moaned, and she dropped down next to her, cradling her head and wincing over the red gash on the side of her pale head. Running steps came close, and Solari dropped to her knees in the mud, examining the girl. "She’ll be ok" the Amazon said, pulling a bit of cloth out of her gear, and pressing it to the wound. Looked up "Are you ok?"

Gabrielle’s face lit up with a quiet smile. "I am now."

They both heard footsteps approaching, and with a quick sideways glance, Solari captured Gabrielle’s hands. "I’ve got this." She said, giving her a big smile and motioning sideways with her head. The bard pressed her hands back. "Thanks." she whispered, then stood and faced Xena. And knew she had this really dumb grin on her face, but didn’t care, as she ran to her open arms, and just...

"Argh" Xena heard the breath come out of the bard as she wrapped her arms around her, and squeezed hard. And the sweetness of that moment was so profound, it hurt.

Gabrielle buried her face in the warrior’s chest, ignoring mud and everything else in her desperate need to make contact, feeling Xena’s arms tighten further, if that was even possible, and she squeezed and squeezed as though her life depended on it.

"Hey." Xena finally said, brushing her lips across the top of Gabrielle’s head. "Don’t I even get a hello?" A light touch of banter in her tone.

She felt the bard take several breaths to speak, but nothing came out. Then finally..."Yeah.." in a voice thick with a dozen emotions. "You get a ‘hello’. You get a ‘thank the gods you’re here’’. You get a ‘I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life’. " A pause. "You get an ‘I love you’." Another pause. "Did I leave anything out?"

A moment of silence from Xena. Then... "Well, that about covers everything I had to say." In a quiet voice. There, in the rain. With thunder crashing around them.

She felt Gabrielle’s hold finally loosen, as the bard slipped her arms from around her waist and slid them up around her neck, and tightened her grasp again, lifting her eyes and gazing up into Xena’s. They looked at each other for a very long moment. Xena could feel what was happening and she had just time to think, Thunder and lightning, raining like Hades, up to our knees in mud, in a Centaur village in the middle of a fight. Well, it’s going be memorable. before she was responding to that grasp, and ducking her head to capture the bard’s lips in a long and heartfelt kiss.

They finally had to take a break to breathe, and Gabrielle let her head drop onto Xena’s chest, with a soft laugh. "Gods, that felt good." she sighed, closing her eyes.

"We’d better get out of the rain." Xena replied, taking a deep breath.

"What rain?" Gabrielle responded.

Xena laughed. "Or at least get rid of our audience." Her eyes twinkled.

"What audience?" the bard mumbled, then blinked her eyes open.

Xena jerked her head toward the center of the village, and the bard looked that way, then blushed a deep red, as she spotted all the grinning faces. "Gods" she said, hiding her face in Xena’s chest. Feeling the warrior laugh. Then deciding it was halfway funny herself, and turning her head to face them. Watching Ephiny stroll over to a scowling Eponin, and hold out an imperious hand. Watching Eponin glare, then wilt, and, reaching inside her bodice, remove a coin and slap it into Ephiny’s hand. Feeling Xena laugh harder. So she started laughing too, and then couldn’t stop. For a long time.

They walked back to the Amazon village slowly, in deference to Xena’s knife wound, which the bard discovered by the warm blood dripping down her back. "Ouch" she said, giving the warrior a stern look. "We need to take care of that."

Xena shrugged, wrapping an arm around Gabrielle’s shoulders. "I hardly feel it." She admitted. "Everything else hurts, so that’s just a minor annoyance."

"Minor annoyance. " Came the reply. "Uh... right." And she wrapped an arm around Xena, tugging her towards the path. "Come on." They walked on in silence for a bit.

"So, will this put a crimp in your treaty?" Xena asked, glancing around at the Amazons moving with them, some carrying fallen comrades.

"Well, no, not really. " Gabrielle answered slowly. "They’ve been fighting each other for such a long time, they’re almost friendly about it."

Xena looked at her. "They?" A slight grin tugged at her lips.

"They." The bard replied, snuggling closer. "And, by the way.."

"Yeah?"

"Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be happier. But... what are you doing here?" The bard’s voice was curious. "Was this just one of those mysterious Warrior Princess things or something?"

Xena remained silent, considering her answer. "I just had a feeling I needed to be here." She finally drawled. "Just one of those things, I guess."

Gabrielle’s brow creased. "It wasn’t that bad three days ago... I’m not sure…"

"No." Xena interrupted. "Night before last." She studied the ground in front of them, not meeting the bard’s curious gaze.

"Wait." Gabrielle stopped walking, and turned to face her, putting both hands flat on the warrior’s chest. "Night before last? Gods…you heard me." She grinned happily. "Wow."

"Gabrielle, what are you talking about?" Xena asked, putting her hands on the bard’s shoulders.

"That was the night Ephiny got back." The bard smiled. "And…" she stopped, and shook her head a little, dropping her gaze. "I really.." she stopped again. The hands on her shoulders flexed and tightened, and pulled her into a hug. She stood silent for a bit, just savoring the feeling. "I needed this." She said softly, "I needed you really bad. So.. I just.. kind of talked to you…even though I thought you couldn’t hear me." She lifted her gaze again. "But you did, didn’t you."

"Mmmm.. not so much in words, no." Xena answered, resuming their walk forward. "More in here." She reached across and patted the bard’s belly. "Just a feeling there was something wrong."

Gabrielle considered this thoughtfully. "That makes me feel really good." She said, with an impish grin. "Because I get in a lot of trouble."

Xena laughed. "Well, that’s true." She relaxed. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all. She mused, glancing down at the fair head tucked against her shoulder. Felt a warm glow that eased out the exhaustion, and made the wind and weather fade out to nothing.

"Wait a minute." Gabrielle lifted her head and stared. "Night before last? How did you get…"

"Found a shortcut." Xena cut her off.

The bard’s eyebrows rose. "Shortcut? Xena, I know these parts. There isn’t any shortcut between here and Amphipolis. You go up the road, then you have to take the long route around the mountain because of that sheer cliff that cuts the mountain down below." She paused and thought. "You didn’t…"

"Yeah, I did." The warrior confessed, flexing her free arm. "And am I ever going to pay for it."

"Oh." Gabrielle muttered softly. "That was…dangerous." She looked up and searched Xena’s face.

"Nah." The taller woman shrugged. "Piece of cake. Speaking of which, did you like the ones mother sent?"

"You’re changing the subject." The bard accused, but smiled. "But, yeah.. I really did. Can we go visit?" She let a mischievous grin appear. "I want to see this puppy I’ve heard about."

"You do, huh?" Xena asked, amused. "Well, it just so happens I promised mother I’d bring you back, so I guess we can."

Gabrielle considered this. "You did?" She grinned. "Great. If those cakes are any indication, I think I’m going to like that a lot."

Xena laughed, then winced. "Ouch. Don’t make me laugh so much. That hurts." Oops.. wrong thing to say, Xena...

The bard gave her a concerned look. "If you’re admitting that, we need to get you inside." She motioned ahead to her quarters, and steered the warrior that way. They moved inside the door, glad to get out of the insistent rain, and Gabrielle grabbed two large pieces of cloth, and tossed one to Xena. "Here... dry off." she said, going for a small medical kit, but forestalled by Xena’s wave, as she pulled her own out of the pack she was still carrying. "Oh good.. you always have better stuff in yours." the bard commented, walking over and picking it up.

"It’s really not that bad." Xena commented, unclipping the armor on that side, and pulling if off. "Stings a lot, though."

Gabrielle walked around to get a better view, and sucked in her breath with a whistle. "Wow. That’s going to take some stitching." She laid out what she needed on the desk, and motioned Xena to sit down in the chair, which she did, unbuckling the leather strap on that side.

"Well, you’ve done it before." the warrior commented, leaning forward as Gabrielle moved closer, and started to clean the long wicked slice. Xena closed her eyes, and waited patiently while the smaller woman took small precise stitches and closed the wound, lathering it liberally with herbal salve, and putting a piece of clean linen over it. At last, she sensed that Gabrielle was done, and leaned back, catching the serious look on her face.

"Hey.." she said, reaching out an arm and circling her waist. "I’ve had worse."

"I know." Gabrielle replied, softly, lifting a hand and touching Xena’s cheek. "But this was in my behalf." Her eyes were troubled. "Arella arranged that ambush because she was afraid to challenge me. Because of you."

Xena smiled wearily, reaching up and covering the bard’s hand with her own. "Sometimes the reputation’s a double edged sword, Gabrielle."

The bard smiled, and closed her eyes. "I love that"

"What?" Xena asked, puzzled.

"When you say my name." Came the unexpected answer. "Come on. I think I have a shirt that will probably fit you. " A droll grin. "Considering it’s yours." She moved across the room, pulling out the shirt and tossing it over. "I.."

Xena caught the garment one handed, and gave her an amused look. "I know. It’s ok. I realized it was missing, and figured..." she shrugged. "Well, anyway. Thanks. " She shrugged out of her soaked leathers, and into the shirt with a sense of relief. "Much better." She grinned at her, and then ducked into the adjoining hallway to set the sodden garments to dry, joined moments later by the bard’s.

"Have you even eaten, or anything? " Gabrielle queried, tugging her over and pushing her down on the edge of the bed. "Gods, Xena...I still can’t believe you climbed that cliff. " she laughed a little. "I can’t even believe you’re here."

"Believe it." the warrior sighed, leaning back against the headboard, and wrapping her arms around her upraised knee. "And, yeah, mother packed me a lunch." She gave the bard a droll grin. "I’m fine, Gabrielle. Stop worrying."

The bard was about to speak when Xena interrupted her. "There is one thing I’d like."

"Hmm?" Gabrielle answered, leaning against the side of the bed, and raising an inquiring eyebrow.

Xena raised a hand, gently caught her jaw, and turned her face to the dim light coming in through the window. Seeing the dark shadows under her mist green eyes, and the strain on her face. "I want you to come lay down here before you fall down." She gave the bard a look. "Has it been that rough? Gabrielle, you should have.."

The bard put up a hand, softly touching Xena’s lips, then did as asked and fit herself into the warrior’s welcoming arms. "I know." she sighed. "I wanted to do this by myself." She glanced up. "Dumb, huh?" She snuggled into a warmth that threatened to absorb her completely.

"No." Xena answered, smoothing the damp hair off her forehead. "You did a great job."

"Oh yeah." the bard snorted. "Except that last bit, what with Arella attacking the centaurs and ambushing you."

"It’s not your fault." Came Xena’s reassuring voice. "You did everything you could to secure peace for them. The treaty will survive this.. especially since the Amazon Queen came down in person and defended centaur children." She grinned at Gabrielle, who gave her a glance and smothered a sheepish grin. "That was a very brave thing you did."

"Speaks the woman who climbed a cliff and fought off 20 Amazons, and dove in front of a pair of crossbow quarrels and beat the stuffing out of my chief nemesis. Before lunch." Gabrielle responded, giving her a sideways look. "Uh huh."

Xena touched the tip of the bard’s nose. "You’re worth it." She said, cherishing the sudden widening of the green eyes now locked with hers.

"I am?" Gabrielle breathed, looking up at her with an emotion in her eyes that rang a gentle sweet bell in Xena’s memory. And allowed her spirit to return the look in kind.

"You are." A pause. "Besides, If I can’t do impossible things for you, who can I do them for?" Xena grinned.

Gabrielle grinned back, and snuggled closer, wrapping an arm firmly around the warrior and squeezing hard, then settling back with a contented sigh. They listened in silence for a while to the steady rainfall outside, punctuated by irregular rolling thunder, and brief lightning flashes. "I didn’t really mind having to do the treaties and stuff." Gabrielle finally said, thoughtfully.

"Hmm." Xena replied. "What did you mind, then?" She grinned slyly. "Don’t tell me it was the food."

The bard giggled. "Well, yeah, actually." Then she sobered. "No. Arella really bugged me." She shifted so she could look up and see Xena’s face. "She got me so mad, most of the time. And then.." she shrugged uncomfortably. "she was always…well, Xena, you know I don’t have a problem with people touching me, right?" She grinned in reflex to Xena’s glance encompassing them both and her amused twinkle. "Right. Exactly. But she made me feel…" her face scrunched. "Ugh." She paused. "It was really uncomfortable, and I didn’t like it. And now I’m wondering if it was her, or just something weird with me."

"Something with you?" Xena asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Oh I think I see her problem. Well.. she mentally chuckled. One way to find out, I guess.

"Yeah." The bard dropped her gaze, and sighed.

"Uh huh." Xena shifted slightly, and as the bard glanced up, the warrior lazily lifted one hand, and ran her fingers across the side of Gabrielle’s face, then gently traced the line of her jaw, dropping down the side of her neck, and brushing her collarbone, coming to rest just above her heart. Feeling the pulse point jump under her touch. Seeing the bard’s throat move in a convulsive swallow, and her breathing go irregular. "Nah. I think you’re fine." Xena said lightly. Guess that answers that question. "But I’d better make sure." And leaned over and kissed her, then relaxed back against the headboard with a grin.

"Uh." Gabrielle blurted, then dropped her eyes, and buried her face into Xena’s shirt with a small giggle. Wow. She could still feel little tingles running up and down her spine, and briefly considered giving in to her instincts. But despite the warrior’s casual reassurances, she could see the pain and exhaustion lurking in the back of those eyes, and she knew there would be time to continue that experiment later. "I think you’re right." She finally answered, after a deep breath, and looked back up with a grin. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Xena answered, feeling her eyes start to close, as two days of effort caught up with her. She settled her arm more firmly around the bard and let the steady sound of the rain and the warm security of Gabrielle’s presence take her off to sleep.

***

Ephiny rolled one eye open, and studied her surroundings. Her quarters. This was a good thing. She cocked her ears. Silence outside. Another good thing. She peered at the window. Sun. Yet another good thing. The day was looking up so far, especially after yesterday. Yawning, she got up, and splashed her face with water, grimacing at the large bruise on her jaw. "I’ll get you for that, Erika." She muttered, then sighed, and got dressed, and poked her head outside.

Just dawn, and very quiet. The only sounds she heard were the quiet snaps of the scouts campfire, the intermittent splatters of leaf bound water dropping, and the faint sounds of movement from the dining hall. Her eyes rested briefly on the door to the queen’s quarters, and she felt a grin tugging her mouth. Nice to have that old question answered once and for all, she thought, amused. But that was too damn close. Her mind sobered. She walked to the dining hall, and waved hello to the two cooks as she crossed the woven threshold.

"Ephiny." Esta grunted, waving back. "Tell me this whole stupid affair is over and done with, will you?"

The blond Amazon shrugged. "You know how we are, Esta. But I think it’s over for now. Arella’s going to be out of commission for a very long time, and maybe she learned something from it." Besides don’t piss off the Queen’s champion, that is. "Got something hot on? It’s chilly this morning. " She accepted the bowl of warm cereal, and sat down with it, warming her hands on it’s sides, and breathing in the steam. She looked up as Menelda, their chief healer slid onto the bench next t her. "Morning" Ephiny mumbled, stifling another yawn.

"Morning" Menelda answered, getting herself a cup of hot tea from a handy pitcher. "Status report." She said, taking a sip. "We lost 6 people in the ‘hunting’ party yesterday."

Ephiny’s eyebrows rose. Then she shook her head.

"Three more are in the hospice, and will be for quite a while. They look like they fell off a cliff." Menelda spoke in her typical blunt style. She wasn’t known for her bedside manner. "The girl, Cait, is going to be fine. She had a gash on her head, but it was mostly surface, and she’s up and around already, and wants out." She allowed a small smile to cross her face. Then it disappeared. "Arella, we have a big problem with."

Ephiny let out a groan, around a mouthful of cereal. She gave Menelda a look.

"Oh, she’ll live." Menelda reassured her. "She has a broken jaw, so we won’t have to hear her for a while, and about a half a dozen broken ribs. Looks like she was back kicked by a warhorse. "

"She was." Ephiny muttered, continuing to chew. Menelda darted her a look, then snorted.

"She also has a completely dislocated shoulder. Problem is, she’s pretty muscular, and we can’t get the arm reset. We’ve tried, all night, until she passed out from the pain of it. " The healer grimaced. "Even with two of us trying, we just can’t get the leverage for it."

"Huh." Ephiny replied, considering. "Well, I may have an idea for that." She stood up and ran her fingers through her hair. "I’ll just get the person who put it out of joint to put it back in." And left the room, leaving Menelda to collect her jaw and follow, spluttering.

***

Xena had woken in the pre dawn stillness, momentarily disoriented until her eyes focused, and she realized where she was. Gabrielle was still very soundly asleep curled up snugly against her, her breathing slow and steady.

Gingerly, she tested her sorely abused body, and was cautiously pleased with the response, more so than she had reasonably expected to be. I guess that’s what a good night’s sleep gets you. She mused, glancing down at the sleeping bard. She still looks tired out. And she’s lost weight. They must have been pretty tough on her. Damn.. but she stood up to them, didn’t she?

With the stillness, she realized the weather had cleared outside, but it had turned colder, and she could feel the draft coming in from the window, which made her decide to stay right where she was and pull the covers up over the both of them. She let herself drift off again, until a noise outside snapped her eyes open, and sent her hand drifting towards her sword, sheathed next to the bed. The sun had recently risen, and she could see a shadow moving outside the door.

A curly head poked in cautiously. Xena shook her head in amusement, but waved Ephiny in, making shushing motion with one hand. The Amazon stepped in quietly, and walked over to the bed, with a grin twitching across her face. "How’s the back?" she said, very softly.

"Not bad." Xena answered. "Couple of stitches, nothing serious."

Ephiny nodded, then glanced down at Gabrielle. "I can see she’s all right." With an impish smile at the warrior. Then her expression went serious. "Actually, I have a rather.. awkward request to make of you."

Xena’s eyebrows raised. "Awkward?" she asked.

"Well, yeah." Ephiny sighed. "Our healers have been trying to reset Arella’s shoulder since yesterday, without success. They can’t get enough leverage to pop it back into place." She looked at Xena.

"So you want me to try." The warrior hazarded, with a snort. "You’re right. That’s awkward."

Gabrielle opened her eyes, blinking sleepily. "What is?" she mumbled, glancing up at Xena, then over at Ephiny, and when she met Ephiny’s eyes, she grinned. ‘Good morning."

Ephiny grinned back, and gave her a little shake of the head. "Good morning to you, too."

Xena repeated the request. "I guess I’ll try, but you’d better knock her out first so she doesn’t know about it." She shook her head in annoyance. "This’ll be a first."

"OK." Ephiny nodded. "I’ll go tell Menelda." She stifled a yawn. "Sorry. I know it’s still early." She gave them both a wicked glance. "So, I’ll get on out of your way, here." She waggled her eyebrows at them, and vanished.

They watched Ephiny leave, then looked at each other. And burst out laughing.

"Gods." Gabrielle sighed, still chuckling. She hitched herself up on an elbow, and tugged at Xena’s shoulder. "Let me see your back." Waiting for the warrior to lean forward, which she did, and pulling the shirt down and removing the bandage she’d put there last night. She was silent a moment, then let out a surprised chuckle. "You heal fast." She commented, putting the bandage back on.

Xena tugged the shirt into place and leaned back, shrugging. "Yeah. Comes in handy." She stretched. "See? No harm done." A grin for the bard, who gave a grudging smile in return. "So. I guess I’d better go see about your little friend, there, huh?"

Gabrielle’s expression was less than queenly. "If I wasn’t the goodhearted bard type, I’d tell you to forget it." She rolled over on her side and propped her head on her hand. "You going to do the pressure point before you do it?"

"Yeah, probably. Why?" Xena asked, leaning on one elbow. "You don’t want me to?" Her eyebrows rose.

The bard sighed. "Yeah, I do.. it’ll be good for her hangers on to realize that you have skills other than the obvious ones." She poked the muscular shoulder next to her.

Xena snorted. "Uh huh. Sure."

Gabrielle regarded her, tilting her head and gazing with undisguised interest. "By the way, looks like going home was good for you. You look great." She grinned. "Not that you don’t usually."

A shrug. "Got a chance to heal up some nagging sore spots, at least. Do some stuff around the inn. A little hunting. " a pause. "A lot of sparring, which I needed to cope with the effects of a month of my mother’s cooking." She finished with a wry chuckle.

"Doesn’t seem to have done you any harm." Gabrielle responded, with a smile.

"Guess not." Xena paused. "Yeah, it was nice. Mother was.. great, and Toris was Toris." She exchanged knowing grins with the bard, then rolled over, and stood up, extending a hand back towards Gabrielle. "Come on. They’ll be in here in a minute looking for you."

"Yeah, yeah." Gabrielle grumbled, grabbing the proffered hand, and allowing herself to be hauled bodily out of bed. "Maybe I can banish them." A glance at Xena’s eyebrows. "Ok, maybe not."

They walked across the middle ground, and Xena nudged Gabrielle with an elbow as they came even with the dining hall. "Go get some breakfast. I’ll take care of this. You don’t need to watch."

The bard squared her shoulders. "I know. But I want to. I want to understand her." she considered. "Besides..." a grin "you know I love watching you work."

"OK" The warrior acknowledged. "Let’s go then." They walked together to the infirmary, and ducked inside the door.

The atmosphere became tense as the occupants recognized them, or to be honest, Gabrielle thought, recognized Xena, who stood for a moment, observing everything and doing her best ‘I’m a menacing warlord’ impression. Which was a darn good one, enhanced by her darkly glittering armor and conspicuous weaponry. Most of the invalids were Arella’s people, and they avoided meeting her eyes, keeping a wary eye on the warrior, or examining their own boots with interest.

Xena leveled her gaze around the room a few times, then strode towards where Arella was lying, foggy, but conscious, with one arm braced in an awkward splint. She watched Xena approach with an unfathomable expression. Erika, seated next to her, rose slowly to her feet, and backed away as the warrior moved closer.

"Relax." Xena finally said, when the tension had risen to where it was almost palpable. "I’m not going to kill anyone." She stood over Arella, and examined the splint with interest. Arella’s face was a study in apprehension, and a faint sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. She flinched when the warrior crouched down, and laid a finger on the supports. Xena glanced at her. "I said, relax. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it yesterday."

Making a decision, she rested her weight on one knee, and untied the splint gently. She turned her head and looked into Arella’s eyes. "Listen. I’m going to block your pain with a pressure point. Then I’m going to set your shoulder. Don’t fight me. That’ll just make it harder. OK?"

Arella nodded, some of the panic fading from her gray eyes. She blinked at Xena, as though just seeing her for the first time.

"All right." Xena muttered, then took two fingers and pressed a spot at the junction of Arella’s neck and shoulder. The Amazon’s eyes widened, and she jerked a little. "Now, just don’t struggle." the warrior reminded her. Then slid her left arm under Arella’s, and grasped the edge of the bunk, providing a pivot point, and with her right arm, she grabbed the Amazon’s’ elbow. "Ready?" She cautioned, glancing at the woman. A slight nod. "OK." And with a smoothly powerful motion, Xena levered the dislocated arm into it’s proper place. The joint snapped back into position with an audible pop, which caused everyone to jump a little, then Xena released her grip, and sat back. "Now." She said to Arella, whose eyes were fastened on her. "I’m going to release the pressure points, and you’ll feel this again. It won’t be as bad, now that the joints back in place. OK?" Another nod. "OK." And she pinched the spot again, and Arella flinched, but then relaxed a little, and gave Xena a wary little nod.

Xena stood, and dusted off her hands, then glanced around the room, which was not nearly so tense all of a sudden. Gabrielle came up beside her, and leaned against her shoulder, gazing down at Arella. "That looked easy enough." the bard commented, glancing up at Xena.

"I knew what angle it came out from." Xena answered, giving her a wry glance. "Makes it easier to guess how to lever it back in." A darkly amused grin.

"Ah." Gabrielle responded. "Yeah, that makes sense." She met Arella’s eyes, giving her a short nod, then pulled on Xena’s breastplate. "Come on. Let me introduce you to breakfast."

Xena allowed herself to be led out of the infirmary, fully aware of the eyes following them outside. They crossed the open space and headed towards the dining hall, along with several other Amazons, who glanced briefly at them, and smiled. Gabrielle smiled back, then realized why they were smiling, and blushed. Well, this is going to take some getting used to. She mused to herself. Aloud, she said "I hope you like porridge."

"You know I don’t. And you don’t either." Xena responded, raising an eyebrow at her. "Gabrielle, you’re the Queen. Why don’t you just ask for something else?" She watched her companion’s face go from irritated to perplexed to embarrassed. "You never did, did you." A quickly muffled chuckle. "Come on." And they entered the hall, spotting Granella sitting with Cait near the front of the large room. Xena steered the bard towards them, and gave her a gentle shove at the bench. "Sit down."

She herself continued on through the hall, ducking into the preparation area and startling the two cooks. "Relax." She drawled, scanning the shelves with a knowing eye, and selecting several items.

"Would the queen like her bowl of cereal?" the cook called Esta asked, warily.

"No." Xena answered, grabbing a plate and several more items. "She hates cereal."

Esta snorted. "She never said word one." Indignation colored her tone. "She never asked for anything, never said what she like... she’s been driving us crazy wondering..."

Xena stopped, and gave her a look. "I know. I should have sent an instruction scroll with her." And gave the cook a brief grin. "Sorry. She doesn’t like people to make a fuss." And disappeared, leaving the two cooks to glance at each other.

"Huh." Esta said. "She’s not so bad, that one." Her companion grunted noncommittally.

Gabrielle seated herself next to Cait, and smiled at her. Cait smiled back. "Hi." the bard said.

"Hi." Cait responded, blinking at her. "That was super of you yesterday. With the centaurs and all." She grinned enthusiastically. "I liked it when you dumped the big one with your staff."

Gabrielle snorted. "Well, thanks... but it didn’t really do much good." She gazed at the blond girl. "And thank you for getting in the way when she was about to spear me." Her brow creased. "Sorry you had to get hit for it."

Cait shrugged. "It’s ok. It really didn’t hurt much. You were really brave when she was going to shoot you, though. You didn’t even flinch." She stopped eating and put her spoon down. "You didn’t see her coming, did you?"

The bard looked puzzled, then realized who Cait was talking about. "No.. I couldn’t... did you?"

The girl nodded with cheerful enthusiasm. "Sure did. It was great. She came up over the embankment, hit the ground, then just went sideways." A glance up as the subject of the conversation appeared, and tossed plate down in front of the queen.

"Here." Xena said, ruffling Cait’s hair. "Hello, Cait." And sat down across from Gabrielle, snagging a piece of cheese and a slab of bread from the plate for herself.

"Cait was just telling us about your arrival in the Centaur Village. " Granella mentioned, watching the bard attack the plate’s contents. "Wow... don’t hurt yourself there."

Cait turned to Xena, and grinned. "Can you teach me to catch arrows?" She pleaded, "Please??"

The warrior raised an eyebrow at her. "We’ll see." she growled. "How’s your head?"

The girl raised one hand to her temple, then shrugged. "It’s OK." She went back to her bowl, scraping up the last of the cereal with dutiful vigor.

They all looked up as Ephiny strode into the hall, and walked over to them, placing both hands on the table and leaning forward. "Gabrielle, the Centaur leader want’s a parley. With you. This afternoon." She darted a glance towards Xena, who was thoughtfully chewing on her bread. "You too." she added, giving the warrior an apologetic little shrug.

Xena rolled her eyes. "Oh great." she sighed.

"OK." Gabrielle replied. "This afternoon. And, Ephiny.." The Amazon looked at her. "We need to wrap up any council business. I’d like to leave tomorrow morning."

Ephiny went very still, just looking at her. "All right." she finally answered, drawing out the words slowly. Damn. I should have seen this coming. But she’s done an impossible amount in the time she’s been here. "We can do that." She finished, quietly, and straightened.

Gabrielle stood, and took her arm, motioning her outside with a nod of her head. They walked outside, and a little away from the hall, then the bard stopped, and took a breath. "Listen.."

Ephiny held up a hand. "No... it’s all right. I understand."

"Ephiny, no you don’t. Let me talk for a minute." Gabrielle spoke quietly. "I’ve done what I can." She dropped her gaze to her hands, and then looked back up. "There is a part of the Amazons that I don’t understand.. that I don’t know how to understand. Until I do... Until I can see what people like Arella see, I can’t lead you."

Ephiny opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. Opened it. Shut it. Opened it. Finally, she put a hand on the bard’s arm. "Look. I know you’ve had a rough time. Believe me, I do." she let out a held breath. "But I think you’re wrong. I think you do understand us. You just don’t see way of becoming us.. and Gabrielle, that’s a very good thing. That part of Arella that you can’t get a grasp of... that’s ugly, and violent, and needs blood to satisfy.. I wouldn’t want you to know." She gave her a small smile. "And anyway, you’re still the Queen. I can’t change that. I wouldn’t want to.. I’ll just keep holding your place until you’re ready."

Gabrielle nodded slowly. "All right." She smiled grimly. "I may never be ready. But when I am, you’ll be the first one I’ll tell."

"Second." Ephiny replied immediately, eyes twinkling.

The bard let out a short laugh. "Gods.. am I ever going to live that down?" She blushed. "I can’t believe we did that." She gave Ephiny a sly grin. "So.. just how much did you win?"

"Ahh.. that would be telling." The blond Amazon smiled. "For the record, you are the envy of the camp, by the way. " She grinned at the deeper blush. "So, where are you off to? Amphipolis?"

Gabrielle crossed her arms over her chest, and tried to ignore the heat of her face. "Yeah." she answered, finally meeting Ephiny’s eyes. "Among other things, I gotta see that puppy you mentioned. I’ll see if we can make it back for the festival, though."

Ephiny nodded. "That would be great. Listen.. you did an incredible amount for us in a month, you know that. Six new treaties, and personally, I think certain factions in the village are willing to take a second look at peace as an alternative." Though, I do think Xena has more to do with that, she mused wryly. She scared Arella’s crew into good sense. Maybe.

The bard nodded. "Thanks." She glanced around, back to the dining hall, where Xena was now leaning lazily, waiting for her in the doorway. She struggled to keep a grin off her face, and knew she partially failed when she saw Ephiny’s muffled chuckle. Sighing, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she looked up again. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"We’ll have to go over the centaur charter." Ephiny responded, giving the bard a break. "Other than that, there’s just a few things to wrap up today." She put a hand on Gabrielle’s shoulder, and starting walking her back to the hall.

The council session that afternoon was interesting, Gabrielle thought. For once, no one questioned her. There was no Arella there, with her doubting words, and intimidating, sarcastic silences. She didn’t have to explain herself a half dozen times, nor did she have to justify her words, her thoughts, her actions... and there was a new sense of respect, even from those of Arella’s followers who did attend.

Maybe it was the fight yesterday, she mused. I did do pretty well, after all. Or maybe it was the knowledge that peace had prevailed after all. Maybe they’d learned something.

Nah. Her mind chuckled. It was the presence of her warrior partner, felt more than seen, since Xena was lounging behind all of them on a low bench looking for all the world like a panther stretched out, her blue eyes scanning the room at intervals but always returning to catch the bard’s own. Usually with the raising of an eyebrow at something someone said. Or an eye roll, when Gabrielle had to explain something twice. Or a twitching grin when she’d made a good point. And an out and out dazzling smile when one of the older Amazons that had been more or less in Arella’s camp stood up and complimented her, and said, well, maybe there was another way. Maybe I did make a difference. She finally mused, carefully examining that thought. Maybe. At the end of the council, she stood up, and as her last piece of business, turned the ruling of the Amazons back over to Ephiny, which the blond woman accepted casually as though they hadn’t rehearsed the whole thing beforehand. Which they had.

And she was pleasantly surprised by the number of Amazons who stopped her after the council broke up, and expressed their dismay at her leaving. Their appreciation for what she’d done. Even to the last of them, three of Arella’s cronies, who closed in on her when almost everyone else had left.

Causing her a faint prickle of concern, until her peripheral vision caught the smooth movement of dark leather, and she relaxed into a feeling of warm security. She looked at the three, tilting her head in question, letting them break the silence. Somehow keeping her eyes on them, and not letting them drift over their heads to meet the watchful gaze that had moved in behind them with utter silence.

"Um. Look." Erika broke the tense standoff. "I know we don’t see eye to eye."

"That’s a true statement." Gabrielle agreed, amiably.

"Yeah. Well, anyway. It’s just that.. " she sighed. "Gabrielle, just going along, day to day... there’s no challenge there. I think what we’re afraid of is losing.. well, part of what makes this life so appealing for us." She glanced at her two companions, who nodded, but let her keep being the spokesman. "That challenge is really important to us."

"Isn’t life itself a challenge?’ the bard countered. "Do you have to have conflict to make it harder?"

A low voice answered her, and startled the Amazons. "They have a point, Gabrielle." And Xena stepped forward, ignoring the nervous looks from the three, and concentrating her attention on the bard. "When you’re used to a certain amount of excitement in your life, taking that away can leave you.. " she pursed her lips and nodded a bit. "twitchy." She raised an eyebrow at the three, who looked at each other, then back at her. And gave little agreeing shrugs. "You tend to do things that create that feeling of excitement, because your body is used to it."

"Are you saying that people can be addicted to violence?" Gabrielle asked, incredulous.

"Uh huh." Xena replied, and, finally, got some faint beginnings of a smile from the three. "that’s hard to break. You have to find something that can take it’s place. But.." she shrugged. "Don’t discount that need. It’s real."

Now Erika was smiling openly, and gave Xena a little nod. "You do understand."

The warrior turned her gaze on Erika. "Oh, I do. But if you let that need control you, you lose." She gave Erika a look. "You have to find a way to channel that energy into something positive. You have to find a substitute for it."

Erika looked very thoughtful. "Like what?" she countered, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Xena’s eyes took on a mischievous sparkle. She leaned forward, and cupping her hand around Erika’s ear, whispered something to her. The Amazon started back, then looked at her, darted a glance at Gabrielle, then chuckled. "Ah. I see." Her face took on a thoughtful look. "Well... I’ll see what I can do." She turned to Gabrielle. "Anyway, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry."

Gabrielle nodded slowly. "So am I, Erika. Six Amazons died yesterday that didn’t have to." Her face was very serious. "I’m leaving it up to Ephiny to decide what the penalties are going to be for that. But I’ve given her some suggestions. That was really stupid."

Erika sobered. "I know." She glanced up at Xena. "I knew better. I should have stopped it. But I didn’t, and now I have to live with that." She gave them both a brief nod, then turned and left, her companions following her in thoughtful silence.

Xena and Gabrielle watched them go, then looked at each other. Gabrielle sauntered over to her, and tugged on her breastplate. "What did you tell her?" she asked, curiously.

"Oh..it’s a warrior thing." Xena answered, with a smile. "Come on. The centaurs should be here any minute." She’s not going to let this one go. OK.. well, she looks cute when she blushes.

"A warrior thing." Gabrielle repeated. "Uh huh. Like what kind of warrior thing? " Not letting go of the armor plating. "I want to know what you suggested to her as a substitute for the excitement" she grimaced "of going to war."

"Falling in love." Xena drawled. With a twinkle.

The bard blushed to the roots of her hair. "Oh." she mumbled, then laughed.

"Now, better lose that blush before the centaurs come in." Xena teased, patting her lightly on the cheek. Then lifted her head, moments before they both heard Xena’s name being called. They walked to the door, and Xena ducked her head outside, and they saw an Amazon leading a familiar golden form with a makeshift halter.

"Argo!" The warrior breathed. "I should have know she’d follow me up here." She darted outside, and grinned as the mare nickered on seeing her.

Gabrielle watched her go, and stayed in the doorway, leaning on the post, and wrapping her arms around herself, on the warm feeling that was filling her like sunlight. Falling in love, she said. Her mind chortled happily. And if it took a month in Hades with the Amazons to get her to say that to me, then they can have a month of my time any moment they like. Arella was wrong, wrong, wrong...this is the most wonderful feeling in the world. I hope she finds that out some day. A remembered thought of Erika’s face. Maybe she just will.

She glanced across the grounds, at the movement of the Amazons, at the dimly seen approaching Centaurs. At Xena, and her snorting, restive mare. Gods, Gabrielle. It’s been a long, long road from Potedeia, hasn’t it?. Everything that’s happened. All the bad things, all the trouble, and fighting, and pain. And the good things, the victories, the people we’ve helped, and most of all, our friendship. I remember I asked her once if there was anything she’d change, after all that, and she said.. no. I only just this minute understood why. It all led to us coming to this place, at this time, and being who we are now. And if that’s so...I wouldn’t change a thing either.

"Gabrielle." Xena’s voice startled her out of her reverie. "Hey, you OK?" The warrior peered at her, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah. I’m fine." Gabrielle answered, smiling up at her. "Just thinking, that’s all." She glanced over at the path into the village. "Oh, here come the centaurs. Time for our meeting, right?" She ran her fingers through her bangs, and straightened her skirt. "Let’s go."

***

"That wasn’t as bad as I was expecting it to be." Ephiny yawned later, sprawled in the chair across from Gabrielle’s desk, a large cup of mulled wine in one fist. "Though I think they like you better than they do me." she blinked at the bard, who was packing things efficiently into a pair of large bags.

"Nah." Gabrielle replied, glancing up and smiling. "Your son’s a connection to them. They’ll be fine with you." She sighed. "Besides, I think I make them nervous. They kept swishing their tails."

A chuckle from the bench near the wall, where Xena was lounging, repairing a bit of armor lacing. "No, *I* make them nervous." A darkly humorous grin. "I make everybody nervous, it seems."

"Really?" Gabrielle asked, stopping what she was doing and looking over. "I never noticed that. Are you sure? I think you’re just imagining things again, Xena. I warned you about that."

Ephiny looked at her like she’d lost her mind, then glanced back at Xena. Who had balled up a wad of leather stitching and pelted it at the bard. And nailed her right in the chest.

"Ouch." Gabrielle yelped. "Hey..just asking..." And tossed the wad back, managing to aim well enough to cause the warrior to duck to avoid being hit in the head. "Hey, that was close!"

"Right. Not." Xena scoffed, going back to her mending. Pretending not to see Gabrielle grabbing a small pouch and pulling back her arm, slinging it forward with quite a bit of force. Dropping her armor bit at the very last possible second, and reaching up a hand, still not looking, and catching the pouch. "Gotta do better than that." she commented airily, tossing the item back with a flick of her wrist, but this time catching Ephiny on the back of the head with it.

"Hey!" Ephiny squeaked. "Don’t get me involved in this!" She stood up , still gripping her cup, and backed off, grinning.

"Chicken." Gabrielle scoffed, and dove for the pouch. She came up with it, and hurled it in Xena’s direction. But the warrior had dropped her mending and was now in a half crouch, fully interested in the game. She caught the pouch, and whipped it back, making Gabrielle dive for cover. "Whoa!"

They scrambled for the pouch, and Xena grabbed it, and pelted the bard in the stomach with it, then ducked as she threw back the original wad of lacing. Ephiny chose that moment to step backwards, to avoid being bowled over.

And caught her boot in a floorboard and lost her balance, waving her arms wildly to keep from falling. The cup of wine went flying right towards Xena, who paused, saw it coming, glanced behind her quickly, then sighed.

And closed her eyes. And let the full cup catch her in the chest and go all over her.

Everyone froze. The silence was deafening, until Xena broke it by chuckling wryly. "Nice vintage, Eph."

"You could have ducked." Ephiny protested, caught between laughter and apprehension. She could have, she wanted to, but she didn’t..I saw that moment of decision there.

"Oh no." Xena said, shaking her arms to scatter a few droplets. "I duck, it goes over my head, and nails her majesty there. I never hear the end of that. No thanks." She glanced over at Gabrielle, who had her hands over her mouth, stifling a giggle. "I rather take a wine bath." She reached out and put a drop of the liquid on the tip of the bard’s nose, then grinned at her. "Now I need to take a real bath. Be back." She left the room, shaking her head.

Ephiny watched here leave, then turned to Gabrielle, who was just licking the drop off her nose. "Well." she said, laughing a little.

"I told you." the bard said, perching on the corner of the desk. "She’s a lot of fun."

"Gabrielle, you bring that out in her, because let me tell you, I’ve never seen her that way before." Ephiny said, suddenly serious. "Never. And I’ve known her a while." She chuckled. "And no one, NO ONE is going to believe me if I tell them what I just saw." So I guess they’re changing each other. In good ways. Where will they both end up? Zeus only knows.

"Anyway, you’d better get dressed for dinner. You know we’re doing up a little something to say farewell to our queen, right?" Ephiny teased, seeing the pained expression on Gabrielle’s face. "Relax, it’s all very casual."

Gabrielle sighed. "Can I bring a guest?" she asked, with a wry grin.

"Could we keep her out?" Ephiny countered, with a wicked smile. "I’m not trying."

The fire was burning low in the dining hall that night before the banquet ended, and Gabrielle leaned forward, wincing, at the hours spent sitting on the padded but backless bench. It had even been a decent menu, and for once, she was stuffed at the end of an Amazon meal. Ouch. her body was protesting. Gotta get them to switch to chairs with backs on them. There’s knot the size of a..oh. As a powerful hand grabbed the knot, and with a steady motion, released the tension there. She sighed in relief, and turned her head. "Just how do you know exactly where to do that?"

"Just one of my many skills." Xena responded, finishing her work, but leaving her hand on the bard’s back. She herself had chosen a bench which was fairly near to a projecting wall support, and that, coupled with her long body, allowed the warrior the luxury of leaning back and escaping the bench torture.

"I suppose that includes the skill of knowing where to sit." The bard mentioned, giving her a wry grin.

Xena nodded, eyes half lidded. "Uh huh."

"And the skill of having a body just the right size to reach the wall." Gabrielle continued.

"Yep." The warrior agreed. "All part of the plan."

"I see." The bard replied. "Must be nice." She gazed out at the entertainment, and smiled. "They’re pretty good." Another wince. "Wish I.."

"Come here." Xena interrupted her, tugging on the back of her skirt.

Obligingly, the bard slid over onto the next bench. "Yes?"

"Lean back." Xena tapped her hand on her chest.

"Oh." the bard said, grinning. "OK. That’s much better." She settled back against Xena’s shoulder, and relaxed, as the warrior slid an arm around her waist. "Was that part of the plan, too?" she asked, teasingly.

"Yep." Xena answered, unruffled. Then she glanced down at Gabrielle, who giggled. "What?"

"No..sorry..it’s nothing. I just.." Gabrielle shrugged a bit. "thought you didn’t like..I mean...you never..." She stopped talking. "Oh, never mind."

Xena raised an eyebrow. "I don’t like public displays of affection?" she asked. "Right?"

"Well, yeah." the bard answered, a curious smile on her face.

Xena shrugged. "I got over it." A wolfish grin. "Besides, after yesterday, what’s the point?" She glanced down to catch the expected blush. They settled down to watch the entertainment, and share a few glasses of spiced wine. "Do you want to stop in and see your family?" Xena finally asked, taking a long swallow. Gotta ask. But gods, they don’t like me. And I suspect right now they’ll like me even less. A wry thought. Oh yeah.

Gabrielle stayed silent for a time, thinking. "Yeah." she finally said, reluctance in her voice."Maybe on the way out of Amphipolis" She sighed. "I should just stop in and let them know I’m still alive."

Xena frowned, and ducked her head to get a good look at Gabrielle’s face. "Hey..hey.. Gabrielle, they’re your family." What caused that? I know she wanted out of Potedeia, but she’s always spoken well of her mother..of Lila...

Gabrielle looked straight ahead. "You’re my family." she answered, taking a long sip of her own. "They don’t even know who I am, Xena. To them, I’m just the little sister who ran off two years ago."

Xena blew out a held breath, and thought. "My family adjusted. Yours can too." She offered, giving her a little squeeze. Oh... I’m not good at this. And I’m the last person on earth who should be giving out advice on family relationships.

The bard seemed to appreciate this point, because she turned her head and looked up at Xena with an impish grin. "Oh..great. I’ll just let you talk to them, then. You can explain everything." And giggled. Then giggled more, because Xena took advantage of the fact that she was in true Amazon garb and tickled her bare midriff, which was in easy reach. "Augh..stop it..I can’t be giggling here in front of the entire village"

Xena relented, and let her wind down, feeling the bard’s body relax completely against her chest, and her hands slide around the warrior’s own, clasping them. Aware that half the room was probably watching them, and just not caring. Maybe it was the firelight, or the spiced wine, or the sudden relaxation from the dangers just past. Maybe it was because for the first time in a very long time she was letting herself be carried along by emotions she usually kept a hard rein on. Trouble will come from this. I know it. I opened myself up too far, and I know I’m going to a pay for it. I know... but I can’t back up now. Maybe I can just... Her eyes closed, and she let her cheek rest against the fair head nestled against her shoulder. Maybe I can just have peace, for a little while.

Gabrielle felt the pressure and instinctively moved closer. Something’s going on with her. I can feel it. The bard mused, then examined that thought. I can feel it. Her brow creased. Wow. I wonder..."Xena?" she asked softly, not wanting to startle the warrior.

"Mmm?" her companion answered, a deep sound that the bard could feel vibrating against her head, where she was leaning against Xena’s throat.

If I’m wrong, she’s going to think I’m nuts. But that’s ok..I spout off all kinds of theories all the time anyway, right? Right. OK. " Do you remember Jessan’s parents?"

"Yes." Came the answer, in a hesitant voice. "Of course I do." In a more normal tone.

But Gabrielle could feel the steady heartbeat under her ear pick up. "We’re like them, aren’t we." Felt the sudden stop, then double thump of her heart that told her the answer before the warrior opened her mouth to speak.

"Jessan thinks so." Xena admitted, taking a deep breath. Trying to control her heartbeat, which she knew damn well Gabrielle could feel, they were so close. What’s she going to do with this? What’s she going to think...gods. What do I think? That’s the next question, right?’

"What do you think?" the bard asked, glancing up. Waiting patiently.

A long, long breath. "I don’t know for sure." Xena spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "Because we’re not part of his people." She gathered her courage and met the mist green eyes looking up at her. Found quiet, intense curiosity there. And acceptance. And decided. "But yeah, I think we might be." And here she was, in the middle of one of her biggest nightmares. The one where Gabrielle recoiled from what would seem to her an unnatural lifelong prison sentence, tied to a half mad, gods cursed, moody, hated by everyone ex warlord.

"Wow." The bard grinned, a deep, full, heartfelt grin that lit her eyes up as though she had candlelight reflected in her face. "Awesome." She squeezed the arms around her as hard as she could.

And with a word, and smile, delivered a dark soul back up into the light. Again. "Awesome?" Xena managed to get out, battling with a series of different emotions. "Gabrielle, I don’t think you understand.."

Gabrielle sighed happily. "Yeah I do. Beyond good sense, beyond death, beyond understanding. I remember. I think we’ve hit all three at least once." She laughed. "Maybe more than once." She half turned and gazed up at Xena’s face. "You know I’ve always said I thought every person had a soul mate, right?"

"Yeah." Xena gave up her resistance, and simply accepted the fact that Gabrielle really didn’t mind this.

The bard’s face went very solemn. "For a very long time.. I’ve known who mine was." There. It was easier than she’d thought it would be. Of course, the circumstances helped. Now all that remained was to see what the response was. Humor, a brush off, a gentle pat on the head... It was pretty probable that Xena didn’t feel the same depth of this that she did, after all the warrior had done so much, seen so much..probably thought Gabrielle was a idealistic youngster, probably didn’t....

"So have I." The deadly serious answer. There in a hall full of chattering Amazons, in flickering firelight, with the strains of a harpist behind them.

Gabrielle had to remind herself to start breathing again. Oh gods.. did she just say what I think I just heard? She suddenly felt lightheaded, and blinked several times to clear her vision, which seemed to blur for some reason. I can’t believe we’re having this discussion in the middle of a banquet. Her mind mused, more for something to do while her body got control of itself than anything else. The she felt Xena’s hand touch her cheek, and the gentle pressure of the warrior’s fingertips as she wiped away the tears under her eyes. "Glad we got that settled." the bard whispered, darting a glance up and getting captured by those blue eyes.

"Me too." Xena responded, a grin threatening to break out across her face. "Though we could have picked a more private place to do it in." She glanced around. "Like the town square in Athens."

They both laughed. Because it was a way to release an overflow of emotion that threatened both of their composures. And there would be time for that later.

The banquet was going strong, and Gabrielle knew her leaving would put an end to it, so she settled back and tried to give her attention to the musicians. They were good, but her mind was fully occupied with other things, like an internal chuckling that just wouldn’t seem to stop, and a giddy feeling of well being that kept crashing over her like an ocean wave. They could be tone deaf one legged jugglers, and I wouldn’t know the difference, she chided herself. That’s not good for someone who considers themselves a bard. She took in a deep breath, and with an effort, focused her attention, eventually losing herself in the performance, and not even realizing when she drifted off.

"Aww." Granella leaned over and whispered to Ephiny. "Is that not cute?" She chuckled, and poked the blond Amazon in the ribs, motioning with her chin.

Ephiny turned her head, and laughed in reflex at the sight of their queen fast asleep nestled in Xena’s protective arms. "Gods." she shook her head in mild disbelief. "Yeah, it’s cute."

Granella cocked her dark head. "Music must soothe the savage breast..I think even Xena’s dozed off there." Her eyebrow rose, and she giggled. "Someone better write this down."

Ephiny studied the warrior. "You think so? Watch." She reached out and plucked a grape from the dish in front of her, then with a quick flip of her wrist, sent it flying across the room. It was caught in mid air with a lazy swipe of Xena’s hand, and a pair of piercing blue eyes pinned her to her place. She grinned. "See?"

The dark haired Amazon snorted. "Damn." She grinned. "Wish I had those kind of reflexes. Doesn’t she ever let up?" And chuckled as the warrior examined the grape, and with a little shrug in their direction, popped it in her mouth.

"Not that I ever noticed." Ephiny replied with a wry grin. "And considering what she goes up against, it’s probably better that way." Her brow creased. "For both of them."

"Mmmm." Granella agreed. "That was way too close a close call for my guts, Ephiny. I know you didn’t see it, but I took off right after her, and I did. And so did Solari." She shook her dark head. "Too close."

Ephiny sighed. "I know. And believe me, I had my heart in my throat the entire way from here to there. I almost fell down when I got there and saw everything was OK, because I asked her to come here, Granella." The blond Amazon covered her eyes. "What on earth would I have done if Arella’s arrow had found it’s mark? I’ve never been so scared in my life." She glanced up. "I never thought Arella would do it."

"Yeah." the dark haired scout sighed. "But she’s paying the price. Hey, did I hear right, did Xena actually go in and set her shoulder?"

Ephiny snorted. "You heard right. The healers were kicking my butt for asking her to, but she breezed in, you know, her typical intimidating self, weapons and all, scaring everyone half to death, went bap bap bap, and boom. It was over. " She chuckled. "Just like that." She sat back and stretched, wincing. "Well, I think it’s time we wrapped up this little shindig..not that it’s not fun, but it’ll be dawn soon."

Xena watched as Ephiny and Granella straightened up from their seats, and started heading her way. She glanced down at her sleeping companion with a grin, and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. "Hey." Another tap. "Hey!"

"Hmm?" the bard mumbled, stirring. "What..oh." Recognizing the braced arms around her. "Hi. Um...did I fall asleep?"

"Uh huh." Xena replied, giving her a little squeeze. "And Ephiny’s on her way over here. I thought you’d rather walk out on your own instead of be carried out like a little kid."

"Xena!" Gabrielle rolled her eyes. "You wouldn’t have." A glance up at the smiling blue eyes. "Gods..you would have." She sat up, and ran her fingers through her hair, and rubbed her eyes. "I can’t believe I fell asleep in the middle of a banquet." she muttered, giving Xena an embarrassed look. "You could have poked me."

Xena chuckled, and rubbed her back. "Nah. You looked so peaceful, I didn’t have the heart." She glanced up as Ephiny arrived, and gave her a nod. "Nice grape."

"Grape?" Gabrielle asked, giving her a look. "What grape?"

"Ephiny was testing my reflexes." Xena responded, dryly. "Wanted to make sure her queen was safe, I guess."

Ephiny snorted. "Oh yes.. that was on the top of my list of things to worry about tonight, let me tell you." She leaned on the table. "About time to wrap things up, your majesty." Grinning at the bard’s rolled eyes. "Good night."

"Yeah, yeah." Gabrielle yawned, as she stood and stretched. "Good night to you, too."

They walked outside, where the air was much cooler, and the night sounds had begun their transition into pre dawn. Xena heard the rustling of restlessly waking birds above her, waiting for the first color in the sky, and the scent of dew, and the rising of the gentle wind that carried the soft voices of the other banquet goers now headed to their own quarters.

"Is it even worth going to sleep?" Gabrielle asked, stifling a yawn. "Sun’ll be up soon." She half turned to peer up at Xena, who was strolling along in silence.

"Mmm.." Xena responded. "Probably not." A gentle grin appeared on her face. "You wanted to get an early start..." she shrugged. "So did I." Noticing the sudden pressure of the bard’s around her. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders in response. Remembering in sudden rush what they’d said to each other back there. In the noisy banquet hall.

They ducked inside the door to the queen’s quarters, and Gabrielle loosened her hold, crossing the room and busying herself at the desk. "I think I have everything packed." She muttered, shuffling some of the scrolls on the surface. Glancing up, watching Xena take a seat on the low padded bench against the wall, stretching her long legs out, and crossing them. In the low torchlight, the bard only caught the faint glints of the light against her armor. And weapons, which she had worn to the hall. And the twin points of light that were her eyes. Which Gabrielle found herself drawn to like a moth to a candle flame.

She took a breath, then finished packing her scrolls away, making small talk, to which Xena contributed her usual series of short responses. She had no idea what she said. Finally, she was done, and putting a cheerful look on her face, she casually crossed to the bench, and stood looking down at the warrior, who arms crossed, seemed completely relaxed.

Xena tilted her head to one side, and regarded her companion. Then she uncrossed her arms, spreading the right one along the back of the bench, and gestured for her to sit down with the other. "Sit." she commented. "We’ve got a little while before the sun comes up. Might as well be comfortable."

"Thanks." Gabrielle said, sliding onto the bench, and curling up next to her, tucking her legs under her body. "Will you show me where you climbed the cliff?" She asked, giving the warrior a teasing look. "Gotta know how to describe it for the story I’m writing." She giggled at the strangled gargling noise from Xena, and leaned back against the strong arm behind her. "You didn’t think I would let this one go by, did you?"

"Gabrielle.." Xena’s low rumble. "How about making the story about you..since you’re the one who did all the really important stuff, huh?"

"Oh, sure. Except the parts everyone loves to hear are about you." The bard countered, leaning closer, and poking her in the ribs. "The exciting parts. No one wants to hear about conducting a treaty with the centaurs." She gave a playful tug on Xena’s armor. "But they do want to hear about scaling an impossible cliff, about outrunning the Amazon’s fastest scouts..yeah, don’t think I didn’t hear about that, either..from Granella and the others...about diving off a two story embankment...glad I didn’t see that...and right in front of a firing crossbow." She grinned, sensing victory. "You...are.. a.. hero." She pronounced in triumph, daring Xena to contradict her.

Xena gazed at her, a little smile playing around her lips. "Gabrielle, I did all that because you... are my hero." In a quiet, serious tone. Robbing the bard of thought. Of speech. Of breathing.

Busted. She had won again. Because Gabrielle had no answer for that, having never remotely considered she’d ever hear it said, her being a hero being so unlikely. Right?

For a long moment, all she could hear were the night sounds, the wind snapping the leaves, the fluttering flame of the torches. And two sets of breathing. Finally "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a way with words?" Gabrielle laughed gently.

Xena’s eyebrow rose, but she smiled. "Nope. Lots of other things, but never that." With a twinkle in her eye. "Maybe you’re a bad influence."

"Maybe." the bard agreed, softly. She dropped her glance, then raised it to Xena’s shoulder, and lifted one hand, tracing the new scars there. "Where did you get these?" Darting a glance to her eyes, close by and penetrating.

"Panther." she replied. "Night after you left." Her gaze went distant. "I had.. been doing some drills. Came back to camp, and a wolf cub stumbled in." She gave the bard a brief grin. "Went to take him back to momma, and found that instead."

"Oh." Gabrielle reflected. "Mother dead?"

"Mm." the warrior acknowledged.

The bard sighed, and shook her head, leaning over to touch the twin set on Xena’s other shoulder. "Ouch."

"Yeah." Xena shrugged. "But I’ve had worse." She smiled, and reached out to part Gabrielle’s hair over her temple, examining the bump Arella’s staff had put there yesterday. "That looks OK." Meeting the green eyes so close to hers. Feeling the bard’s hand slid up her shoulder, and come to rest just under her jaw. She wasn’t sure then which one of them started it first, but it didn’t really matter. At least this time we don’t have a gaggle of centaurs and amazons watching us, Xena thought, then stopped thinking and concentrated on the kissing instead.

Which went on for a while, as they took their time, exploring each other with an almost hesitant enthusiasm. Gabrielle took a break to breathe, finally, and let her head drop against Xena’s shoulder. "You’re really good at that, you know?" she murmured into the warrior’s conveniently placed ear.

"Think so?" Xena responded lazily, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Oh yeah." The bard assured her. Then glanced over her shoulder at the gray dawn light outlining the window. "Damn."

Xena’s eyebrow curled even higher, and she chuckled. "Leave the party earlier next time, huh?" She teased, trailing a finger down the bard’s face.

Gabrielle took a deep breath. "We’re going to continue this conversation later, right?" Her lips quirked into a grin. Ohh..I think I like this. A lot. More than a lot.

"Oh..." Xena drawled, eyes sparkling. "I would say that’s a pretty good guess." And leaned forward to catch her lips a final time, for a very long moment. "One for the road." She chuckled, when they separated. Sounds of the waking village began to filter through the morning fog, and they just sat there for a minute, arms wrapped around each other, listening. "Come on." Xena said, finally. "I’ll go get Argo packed up. You see if you can get some breakfast out of the dining hall."

Gabrielle yawned and nodded. "OK. They might even give me something edible after you scared them to death yesterday." She poked Xena in the ribs. "And I have to say goodbye to Ephiny, and all. " A pause. "And Arella."

Xena nodded. "Give her my regards." She replied, with a wry grin. "Be back." And stood, and walked out into the first glints of the rising sun.

Gabrielle stood quietly for a moment, gazing out the open doorway, a half smile on her face. Then she looked down at her boots, crossing her arms and giving her head a little shake. "Whoo.. it’s been quite a week." She muttered to empty air. C’mon, Gabrielle. Move it..get going...dunk your head in cold water. She snickered to herself. Dunking the rest of my body in cold water would be more useful right now, though. Wow.

She cleared her throat, and released a heartfelt sigh, then busied herself putting together her gear, and exchanging her Amazon garb for her regular traveling clothes. She finished arranging her skirt, and headed out the door towards the dining hall, calling a cheerful hello to the Amazons she passed. One of whom was Ephiny, who trotted a few extra steps to catch up with her.

"Morning." Ephiny grumbled, blinking at her. "Or should I say, late yesterday evening."

"Morning!" Gabrielle replied, grinning at her. "It’s beautiful today, don’t you think? Great day for traveling." She indicated the lightening sky, which was cloudless, and with the fog burning off, promised a clear cool day.

Ephiny glared at her. "Whoa..whoa...when did you become a morning person? Are you that glad to be leaving?"

The bard slowed down and lifted a hand in protest." Ephiny..no..that’s not it. I’m sorry..I’m just in a good mood this morning.. really.." She tried and failed to keep a grin off her face. "I’m just.. " A plaintive look at the Amazon.

"All right, all right.." Ephiny relented, waving her off. "I get the picture." She sighed. "Look, I know it’s been rough for you here. And that you’re glad your life is getting back to..well, what you consider to be normal." She gave her a look.

Gabrielle stopped dead, and turned to face Ephiny, her face now very serious. "What exactly do you mean by that?" She asked, quietly, staring right into the Amazon’s eyes, and lowering her voice.

And Ephiny, feeling a sense of danger, stepped back. And blinked. "Uh..." she stammered, "Only...Gods, Gabrielle! I only meant that we.. I, anyway, thought that we could provide you with a place of stability. For a while. It must be so hard to be out there, moving around all the time." She gazed uneasily at this suddenly menacing woman she had though she had known.

Gabrielle stepped forward, maintaining icy eye contact with the blond woman. "You don’t think I know enough to understand what my choices are in that regard?" She asked, low and dangerous. "I go where I go because I want to go there, Ephiny. And I stay where I stay because that’s where I want to be." Damn..that look really works!

"OK." Ephiny held up both hands in surrender. "Ok, ok, listen, I’m sorry." Wow..I need to back off..I need to stop thinking of this woman as a child, before I get my head handed to me. "I’m really sorry.. Gabrielle, I do care about what happens to you. I’m sorry if that comes out as me being...whatever."

The bard relented, easing up on her stare, and relaxing her posture. "I know. It’s OK, Ephiny. I just get really tired of people thinking I’m just following Xena around like a puppy dog who doesn’t know any better. I do know better. I know how dangerous it is. I know what could happen. I do it in spite of all that, not because I don’t have the choice."

"I know." Ephiny said quietly. "What I really wanted to say was that you’ll always have a home here, if you want one." She paused. "Or if you need one."

Gabrielle smiled. "I know that." she said, grasping the Amazon’s shoulder. "Thank you."

Ephiny smiled, and pulled her into a hug. "Take care of yourself, Gabrielle." she said. " And keep an eye on her, too." she added softly.

The bard chuckled. "I’ll try." she resumed walking. "I’m going up to grab some breakfast, and then to see Arella. Want to come with me?" As a peace offering, because she knew Ephiny hadn’t meant to get her angry. But she also knew Ephiny probably wouldn’t’ make that mistake again, and that thought filled her with a rueful pride. Guess I am growing up. she mused.

"Sure" Ephiny agreed, and they walked on.

Xena finished loading up Argo, and led her to the infirmary, where she’d seen Gabrielle disappear several moments before. "Shh..girl. We’re off soon." She crooned to the mare, who flicked an attentive ear at her. She dropped the mare’s halter line as she approached the infirmary and ducked her head to enter, spotting Gabrielle and Ephiny in the corner where Arella was being tended to. As she stepped inside, she was aware of eyes darting to her, and holding. But that was nothing new..she was used to it, even in places where they didn’t know who she was. Probably was the height and the leather, she mused, idly. She turned her head and returned the stares, which suddenly found other things to be interested in. Wonder what would happen if I skipped in here with a flower in my teeth? The thought popped into her mind, causing her mouth to twitch in a wry grin. I’ll have to try it sometime for the shock value.

Gabrielle, as though sensing her presence Probably does...now that I think about it. I always do hers. turned as she approached, and gave her a nod and a smile. She smiled back, ignoring Ephiny’s smirk. And looked down at Arella, who was gazing at her warily, but without the fear she had shown yesterday. There was a tablet next to her hand, which she had been using to write messages, since she was unable to open her jaw more than an inch. Xena reflexively flexed her left hand, which had done that bit of damage.

Gabrielle looked up at her, detecting that faint edgy menace that she often wore around her like a cloak when she was in what she thought of as enemy territory. It had quite an effect, the bard had to admit. "Everything ready?" she asked, in a normal voice. Watching Xena nod, then move back against the wall and lean against it, jerking a chin at her to continue what she was doing.

Which the bard did, picking up the tablet and reading it, glad that the focus of attention in the room was now somewhere else. It read:

Gabrielle,

I won’t apologize to you, because I followed my beliefs, and those I won’t abandon.

But if it matters, I’m glad she stopped the arrows.

Gabrielle took a breath, and reread it several times, while she thought about her response. Finally, she looked up, and met those gray eyes squarely. And leaned forward, so that the Amazon alone could hear her words. "Arella, it matters." she said, gently. "And I freely forgive you for trying to kill me." Seeing the shock and surprise in those eyes. "But.." and she lowered her voice further, made her gaze more intense. "For going after her, no. That I can’t forgive you for. Six of your sisters died for that."

Scribbling on the tablet. She killed them!

"No." The gentle voice was inflexible. "You killed them. Just as surely as if you’d shot them with that crossbow. I told you that you didn’t understand."

A look of agony. You did say that.

"Just because I love peace, and believe we can achieve more with words than weapons, doesn’t mean I don’t know what those weapons can do, Arella." Gabrielle gazed at her, sadly. "I was hoping her reputation would keep anyone from doing something stupid."

Furious writing. Reputations can be misleading...can be faked...can be wrong.

"Not this time." Gabrielle sighed.

No. a short scribble. I should have taken your warning. A pause...more writing. I should have listened to Erika. She knew. Her eyes strayed to the far wall, where Xena was waiting, in the shadows, only the pale glint of her eyes apparent. Then she looked full at Gabrielle. How? she wrote, pausing to consider her words. How can you know her as well as you do, and not understand us?

The bard sat quietly for some minutes, thinking about her answer to that. It was a good question, she mused. "Because she doesn’t do violence just for the sake of violence. Not anymore. And if she can change, so can you." she finally said, meeting Arella’s eyes.

Because of you? Raised eyebrows.

"No." And Gabrielle smiled. "Because of you. That comes from in here." She reached out and tapped on Arella’s chest. "But sometimes it helps to have help." She let her eyes slide to where Erika was patiently waiting, with Ephiny against the wall. Then slid them back, and let a tiny grin curl her lips.

Maybe. A grudging look. Goodbye, green eyes. And her look almost, almost held a hint of affection.

Gabrielle nodded at her, and stood. "Be well." She said, quietly. And walked out with Ephiny and Xena on either side of her, in silence.

"What do you want to do with her?" Ephiny asked, as they reached Argo’s side.

The bard paused, and glanced at Xena, a question in her eyes.

"Well, you have three choices." Xena said, as though she had been considering this very matter. Which she had. Knowing the question would be put to her. "You can banish her, you can break her to servant status, or you could force her into an apprenticeship with an older Amazon, one with more peaceful leanings, who might teach her something."

Now, they’ll ask me for a recommendation. She predicted.

"Which do you recommend?" Gabrielle asked, point blank. C’mon Xena..this is way out of my league, and you know it. Give me some help here.

The warrior chewed her lip for a moment. With this one, there really isn’t a perfect solution. Any of them would grate on her. "Banishment is dangerous. You have enough renegade groups running around for her to join. Breaking her to servant is a waste of resources, and she’d take off anyway. " Xena paused. "So, you really can only use the third option. But Eph, pick someone with as strong a personality as hers. Maybe if they can get her respect, it might work."

Ephiny and Gabrielle looked at each other. "Oh boy" Ephiny groaned. "You’re going to make me tell Eponin, aren’t you?"

"Gotta go." Gabrielle grinned, and patted Argo. "Hi Argo."

Xena chuckled, and, crouching slightly, vaulted onto the golden mare, who was still saddleless. She turned around, and extended her forearm. "Come on. I know you’ve been wanting to try riding bareback."

"Bye, Eph." Gabrielle smiled, and gave her a hug, then grabbed Xena’s arm, and was lifted up to Argo’s broad back. "Whoa.." she said, startled, as the mare moved under her. "A lot slipperier this way."

Xena rolled her eyes, and kneed the mare forward. "Just hang on."

"No problem there." the bard answered, wrapping both arms around her and holding tight.She waved as they crossed the middle ground, and headed out the entrance to the village, and chuckled as they passed under the first of the surrounding branches. "I could get to like this." Snuggling close and laying her head on Xena’s back. "Remember, you promised to show me the cliff."

Xena sighed. She had. And Gabrielle was going to lose it when she saw the damn thing, too. Maybe she could say it was a lower cliff...

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #xwp #pg-13 #femslash #fanfiction #author: melissa good

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thenovelartist · 5 years

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Aristochat, Chapter 4

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Marinette tucked all her kids into the blankets piled in the back of the wagon. Like the sweet mother she was, she kissed the foreheads of all three of her kids, tucked the blankets around them, and whispered how she loved them. Tiredly, they all mumbled their love in return. Adrien knew they would be out within moments considering that the crew had practically run them ragged. The men had enjoyed themselves, and the kids had a good time. Adrien had no doubt they would all sleep well through the night.

Marinette crawled out of the wagon then walked over to the fire and lowered herself to the ground beside him. “Thank you all so much,” she said. “For everything. Especially regarding my kids.”

Nino grinned. “Of course, madam,” he said. “They’re great kids. And we’d do anything for Luka’s own.”

The others nodded their firm agreement.

“Besides, Nino needs all the practice he can get,” Kim teased. “With one of his own on the way.”

“How is Alya, by the way?” Adrien asked.

“Sore, tired, and mad that I had to leave.” Nino said. “I want this to be my last mission until the baby’s born.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Adrien said.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate having you around sometime after the baby is born, too,” Marinette added. “Luka went back to work far too quickly for my tastes, especially with twins.”

“Noted,” Nino said. “Sorry we kept him away from you.”

Marinette shrugged. “I’m sure he was needed,” was all she said.

There was a short silence before Nathaniel suggested getting some sleep from the long day they’d had. It was quickly agreed upon.

But Adrien wasn’t tired. Instead, he stood and reached down to assist Marinette up. She took his assistance, but he didn’t let go of her hands once she was standing. “Walk with me?” he whispered.

She stared up at him with those beautiful blue eyes of hers blown wide. Slowly, just as Adrien was beginning to regret his words, she asked. “In the night?”

“I know the area well,” he assured. “And the moon is full. There’s somewhere close I would like to show you.”

She took her time answering, her internal debate clear on her expression. She glanced toward the wagon.

“The men can take care of them for a short while,” Adrien assured. “We wouldn’t be long.”

She bit her lip and returned her gaze to him. “Okay.”

His smile returned full force, and he led her along into the night. He only began speaking once they were out of earshot. “You asked about my childhood,” he said.

He could feel her attention turn to him.

“I never knew my father,” he said. “Sadly, it wasn’t because he died or even ran away. I… I was illegitimate.”

Marinette’s eyes widened in surprise.

“My mother was a well-off lady,” he said. “And she fell in love with a man her parents deemed below her station. Since her parents didn’t approve, she saw him in secret.”

“And sometime down the line, he left her with child,” Marinette finished, the story being obvious.

Adrien nodded. “Her parents were far from happy, yet, they supported her, hiding her from the world, and consequently, hiding me. And they did so until her death when I was ten years old.

“I hated them,” Adrien continued. “When my mother died, they paid for my needs, but they really wanted nothing to do with me. After all, I was just a reminder that their daughter had gone off and been immoral with a man, leaving a black smudge on the family name. After a year, I just got so fed up with them, I ran off.

“Luka found me three days later. I was broken, angry, yet so lost that I almost went back. He took me to the barracks of the musketeers, took me under his wing, and we grew up training together. He taught me everything I know, including how to let go of being an angry, bitter little boy and turning into a respectable man. Well, hopefully.”

“You are,” she quickly assured. “You’ve proven it. And Luka spoke so highly about you. He always said you were his best friend along with his comrade. He would have done anything for you.”

“And I would have done anything for him,” Adrien said. “So I guess we’re even, even though I still feel like I was the one in his debt.”

“Well, you’re helping me and my children,” she said. “I’d say you are even with Luka now.”

“I would have helped you anyway,” he assured with a smile.

“I know,” Marinette returned, giving him a smile. “But I still thank you for doing so. For caring for my children. I appreciate it.”

Adrien’s grin widened as his heart skipped a beat. He lifted her hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back. He wasn’t trying to be flirty, but it was a struggle to contain himself. He barely knew this woman, yet with all the stories Luka had told him, it felt as though he did.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Marinette felt the same way.

“Anytime, Milady.”

She shyly bent her head away and pulled her hand back against her. Yet, she couldn’t fully hide her smile.

It gave Adrien far more hope than he should dare to have.

“Luka told me you were from the east,” he said, guiding her forward once again.

“Yes,” Marinette said. “My father was Parisian, though. A baker. I was visiting Paris with him when I met Luka. We crossed paths often, and I enjoyed listening to the music he played. He was so talented. He asked me if I would allow him to keep in touch. I was so flattered that I agreed. We wrote letters back and forth for over a year until Papa had to come back to Paris. I begged to come with him. He must have known something I didn’t; both my parents, actually. Maman helped me pack all my things and then told me she loved me and that she would love to meet this Luka one day.

“Luka was waiting for me the moment I stepped foot inside the city. The courtship was quick, but it never felt rushed. I felt like I knew him perfectly from those letters. I lived for when I would get one.”

“He lived for your letters, too,” Adrien added, ignoring the unwarranted jealousy that sparked inside him at the reverence in her tone. “He carried those on him every mission, every trip, everywhere. He’d read them whenever we had a long or hard day. He memorized them.”

He glanced down at her expression, and the best way he could describe it was speechless.

He gave her a smile. “He loved you a lot.”

Her eyes glimmered brighter, likely with unshed tears.

Adrien simply smiled then continued to lead her on down the trail, effectively ending the conversation lest he grow more jealous of the love his late best friend had found.

It really disgusted him. He was better than that.

He lifted a branch in their path, one that had blocked the sight he wanted to show her. She gasped.

The river glowed and sparkled in the clear night, and the stars were perfectly clear in the sky. The crickets sang their night song, and the occasional firefly would dance in the sky.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Adrien asked. “I thought so.”

“Oh, it is,” she said. “We don’t quite have sights like this in the city.”

“No, but the city has sights all its own.”

“Very true,” Marinette agreed.

There were a cluster of rocks nearby that Adrien led Marinette to. She took a seat, staring at the scenery with awe.

And that’s when Adrien caught sight of the blossoming tree.

With Marinette fully focused on the night scenery, Adrien slipped over to grab a low branch of the blossom tree, shaking it lightly to cause flower petals to flutter down on her. She gasped softly as petals snowed down on her, dusting her hair and dress. When she turned to face him, he flashed her an unabashed smile even though he felt heat rise to his face. And when she giggled and turned around again, his heart was fluttering in a way that only made him slightly ashamed that he was flirting with his late friend’s wife.

The other, larger part of him was thinking of how he would definitely take care of her in a way Luka would be thankful for. I’m still keeping my promise, he thought. I will respect her, Luka.

He returned to her side, but not before plucking a full flower from the branch with the intent to hand to her, only to place it behind her ear instead.

She was grinning, and her eyes dazzled in the moonlight. “Are you always such a flirt?” she asked, though there was nothing but teasing in her tone.

“Only with women who have three incredible children,” he said.

Her bright smile faded, but to him, it almost became more sincere. “How are you still single?” she asked. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you… you’re incredible man and fantastic with kids.”

His smile turned bitter. “I tried,” he said. “It’s not like I didn’t have a sweetheart before.”

Her expression faded, and even in the night, the pity in her eyes was clear. “What happened?”

“I was courting this girl whom I thought truly loved me,” he said, the sting coming back. “But, she… I was going to propose only for someone else to beat me to it.”

Her brow furrowed. “Beat you to it?” she repeated.

“Some rich business man saw her beauty, and she ran off to marry him.”

“Oh,” she sighed. She took his hand in both hers. “I’m so sorry. That… that’s pathetic. Clearly, she’s not worthy of you if she did that.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

“I hope you find better,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

I think I have. “Thank you.”

They stayed there for a while, quietly relishing each other’s company.

“I think we should get back,” he said, even though he didn’t want to leave. “We have to get you back home.”

“Home,” she mused. “I’m very ready to be home. Even if it does include a cranky butler.”

Adrien chuckled. “There are worse things.” With that, he offered his hand.

“I suppose that’s true,” she said, taking his hand in hers and letting him lead her back. “I want to get back to Nathalie.”

“Nathalie Sancouer,” Adrien mumbled. “The name sounds familiar.”

“The seamstress,” Marinette explained. “She runs her own clothing business in Paris.”

“Yes,” Adrien said, the name finally clicking in his mind. “Yes. A very talented and driven woman, I’ve heard. You are related to her?”

“No,” Marinette said. “That’s… a sad story, too.”

Adrien slowed down. “I have my share of sad stories. Heard my share of them, too.”

Marinette flashed him a half-grin. “Luka died right after Hugo was born. Since I had moved away from my parents, I was on my own. I had a few friends, but I knew I had to find a job. Luckily, I heard of Nathalie hiring seamstresses for her company. With my closest friend watching after my two-year-old twins and four-month-old baby, I went and begged for a job. On my knees, nearly crying. The woman nearly sent me away, but up comes Nathalie, who told the woman to hold her tongue and to take me on.

“I worked on as many pieces as they would give me, sewing ‘til my fingers bled because I had to support my family. Or, at the very least, I had to get enough money to travel east and make it back home to my parents, who I knew would help me.

“My luck came from a single incident where a customer had ordered a particular piece, but I didn’t sew it the way they wanted and instead cut a more flattering piece. It was an accident, honestly; Louis got into the fabric and ruined it meaning I had to get creative. However, the customer loved the alterations, as did Nathalie. And from there… I worked to prove myself. Not because I wanted her to take me in, which she did on her own accord, but because I just wanted to provide for my family, and if that meant doing something I loved, then all the better.”

Adrien squeezed her hand once she finished. “You are a brave woman.”

Marinette shrugged. “My husband was a musketeer. It takes a special kind of woman to want to marry a man who is not only gone for long periods of time, off doing dangerous things, but may never come home. Knowing that and facing it are two different things, but life must go on, even if it feels like it’s stopped.”

It was then that Adrien decided that she truly was a special kind of woman. One he was determined to set his cap for. He would pick up where Luka had very unfortunately left off and be the father that Luka’s kids would never have and the husband that Marinette deserved.

…

Marinette woke up, sore and a bit stiff. But she slept on a pile of blankets in a wooden wagon, so it shouldn’t have been surprising. Still groggy, she sat up and immediately looked over her kids, all three of which were still blissfully asleep. For that, she was thankful.

She forced herself up, feeling her joints pop and crack after becoming accustomed to a rather luxurious bed. She almost felt ashamed for wanting to complain. Her beginnings were humble ones, after all.

She slipped out of the wagon, only to see the men were already awake and packing up.

“Good morning,” she said, “Is there anything I can do?”

Adrien shook his head. “No, we can handle it. Did you sleep well?”

“It… wasn’t the best night sleep ever,” she simply said, not wishing to complain.

Adrien simply sent her a knowing smile, one that was charming and could have knocked many a woman—including herself—to her knees. “We’ll get you back home soon enough,” he assured.

“I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

Shamefully, she blushed. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and her thoughts went flying back to last night. She felt like she was being wooed all over again. Having a sweet, respectable man dote on her was a magical feeling. And having that same man dote on her kids only made her heart flutter faster. It was truly a shame he would leave once he returned her and her children to Paris.

“We were just starting on breakfast,” Adrien said. “It’s not much, but it’s warm.”

“I’m certain it will be fine.”

“Momma?”

She was by her children’s side in an instant. “Good Morning, Hugo,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair.

He leaned into her touch. “Where are we?”

“We’re in the wagon, remember?” she said. “We were on an adventure, and you got to sleep under the stars.”

Hugo smiled.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Well, why don’t you go find Adrien and ask politely for breakfast?”

“Okay,” he said. It was surprising just how comfortable Hugo had become with Adrien, or all the musketeers, really. He was her shy boy, but he wasn’t afraid to go up to Adrien and tell him good morning.

Adrien knelt down to Hugo’s level. “Good morning, Hugo,” he greeted, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Hugo nodded. “May I have breakfast?”

“You absolutely may.” Adrien took a biscuit they had packed, then took some of the ham that was frying and placed it on the biscuit. They had a bit of cheese, too, so Adrien placed a slice on top of the ham before giving it to Hugo.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

Adrien then made another biscuit sandwich before offering it to Marinette.

She took it gratefully. “Thank you,” she said.

He nodded before making a third for him. Once he was finished, he took a seat beside her, with an appropriate amount of space between the two, of course. Hugo had been sitting by her side, but when Adrien sat down, he looked over at him, then proceeded to shock Marinette when he moved to sit between her and Adrien.

Adrien looked down at him caringly, affectionately brushing the hair from Hugo’s eyes before continuing to eat his breakfast.

Heaven help her, she was falling for a man simply because he was fatherly towards her children.

Well… it wasn’t the only reason.

She ate her breakfast slowly, and by the time she finished, she heard another noise coming from the back of the wagon. She went to see who was awake, only to see both Louis and Emma stirring.

“Good morning, you two,” she said.

“Good morning, momma,” the mumbled tiredly.

“Do you want some breakfast?”

They nodded.

Marinette crawled out of the wagon, only for Adrien to be there with two completed breakfasts.

She smiled her thanks, feeling her heart start fluttering once again. Like it had last night. Several times over.

Only once all her kids had been fed did Adrien pack up the wagon to leave. There was one long round of ‘good-byes’ as the other musketeers headed out first. Marinette honestly hoped that she could see them again.

“Ready to go?” Adrien asked.

Within minutes, they set out on the road, Marinette by Adrien’s side while the kids were in the back. Eventually, they started up the rounds of “who gets to drive” meaning Marinette was relegated to the back and the wagon was constantly stopping so her kids could change seats.

After a long while, just after her kids began complaining about being hungry for lunch, they made it back to Paris.

Oh, it was wonderful to be back home again.

They stopped one last time for the kids to hop in the back while Marinette sat beside Adrien again, guiding him through the city to where she knew home to be.

She could have cried when she saw it.

Adrien pulled the wagon to a stop, then gave a low whistle. “That is one fancy house,” he commented.

Marinette nodded as she watched her kids scramble out of the back of the wagon to rush to the door. “It’s bigger than anything I’ve grown up in. Sometimes, it almost feels empty, but it’s home, and that’s all that matters.”

Adrien nodded.

Before Marinette could slide down off the bench seat, the door opened, revealing a surprised Gabriel. By any means, his look was not expressive or wild; this was the ever-stoic Gabriel, after all. But the way he looked at the kids, it was as though they were ghosts. When turned that same disbelieving look at her…

Marinette’s stomach sank.

“Mrs. Couffaine,” he said, surprise clear in his voice. “How surprising to see you.”

And that’s all she needed to hear for her gut to sink and her hackles to rise. “Yes,” she said. “We were fortunate enough to meet Mr. Agreste to bring us home after getting rather lost.” She turned to face Adrien. “Certainly, you could stay so we could thank you properly,” she said, looking at him and hoping he could hear her silent begging.

Thankfully, he did. “I would much appreciate your hospitality. I would love to give my horses a chance to rest.”

She sent him a thankful smile before turning back to Gabriel. “Surely you could take the horses for the kind man who helped us home?” she said.

His face was back to being unreadable once again. “Of course, madam.”

“Thank you, Gabriel. Adrien, if you would follow me.”

“Yeah!” Louis cried. “Come on, Adrien.”

“Come on!” Emma chimed in.

“Yeah,” Hugo added.

Adrien grinned at them. “All right, I’m coming.”

The kids cheered before scampering off into the house. Marinette couldn’t help but notice their feet and the fact they were likely going to get dirt everywhere now.

Oh well, as much as she hated leaving messes for the servants, they could stand to tidy up after her kids this once.

Adrien entered, and Marinette shut the door behind him.

“You’re uncomfortable with him?” Adrien asked, his voice low and serious. His green eyes were dangerously sharp.

“There’s always been something about him,” she quietly answered. “Something I’ve never liked. But… I don’t know. Right now, I’m just getting this feeling… something’s not right.”

Adrien nodded. “I’ll stay as long as you want me too. I won’t leave you with a man you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Thank you,” she said, grabbing his hands and squeezing them, hoping he would understand the depths of her thankfulness.

“Of course,” he assured, squeezing back.

“Adrien!” the kids cried. “Adrien, come on! We want to show you the house.”

“Okay,” he called back, giving them a smile instead of the serious scowl that he was wearing just a second ago. “I’m coming.”

…

Gabriel led the horses around back, placing them in the barn and leaving the wagon off to the side. How they returned, he wasn’t certain. He firmly believed he’d paid that man well enough to get rid of the four of them. He’d even done the hard work and knocked them out with heavy doses of sleeping pills. Clearly, it hadn’t worked. Instead, they came back with a musketeer that seemed so familiar that it was nearly eerie.

Nevertheless, Gabriel knew one thing for certain: if he wanted it done right, he would have to do it himself.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #louis emma and hugo #musketeer AU #fluffy #budding romance

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 6 years

Text

J.B.B. (8)

Bucky x Reader

Content: Smut in the beginning. Light smut? Hints at oral basically. So a warning for the ones underaged...and the inevitable(you might know if you’d read part 6).

Warnings: None…smut warning(?)

Word Count: I think I might be sick in the morning. My head hurts. Glad this chapter got done before... oh it’s 4 am.

(Sorry if the writing seems sloppy today. I’m feeling under the weather. It’s a bit hard to concentrate.)

MASTERLIST

^J.B.B., ^Part 2, ^Part 3, ^Part 4, ^Part 5, ^Part 6, *Part 7, !Part 8, ^Part 9, ^Part 10, !Part 11, ^Part 12, Part 13

Was it a dream? I hope not. Then was it a passing thought? This beautiful and animalistic? No way. You opened your eyes before the morning sun, to find yourself slightly aching with the memories of last night. You couldn't resist the smile. So it was real. All of it. Your legs were entangled in Bucky's, his redolent body heat keeping you more than just warm. Your head rested on his flesh arms, close to his rhythm-filled chest. His metal was settled on your back, keeping you as close to him as possible, your breasts feeling his chest inhale and exhale. Your hands found themselves delicately grazing the scars where his flesh ended and the metal began, sending a spark down his body and waking him up. "Sorry," you whispered, removing your hand from his conjunction and placing them on your lips with uncertainty. Bucky's blue was deep in the nascent morning that hadn't even risen up yet. You could see his pupils dilate as he completely woke up from his sleep and breathed your form in. He smiled his best smile on seeing your face right next to his, smoothly pushing your wild bed hair away from your face to plant his lips on your forehead. The touch originated a wave of pure light and radiated throughout your body, making you glow on the inside. Your lips found his jaw and neck, planting sweet pecks, that grew into wet kisses, which grew into gentle nibs all over his shoulders. Two days. Two days and now you just couldn't get enough of him. Bucky's metal picked you up and placed you over his hips, wanting more. His hands travelled all over your body as your lips came down to his chest, the muscles tight and ripped, shivering under your touch. Your hand travelled down his stomach to tease his member, making the man under you moan and grow hard under your touch. You wrapped your fingers around his length and smeared the precum over his tip. Your cold fingers over the crown made his body covet for more. Within no time you were making him grunt in pleasure, your tongue and mouth finding all the right sensitive spots that were driving his hips up. His hands found your hair, moving them back and pressing lightly into the morning mess, trying to find an anchor till he found his release. When he found his breathing back, he got up and pushed you towards the edge of the bed by your leg, making you shriek and fall on your back over the blanket. He sat down on the floor, spreading your legs and planting soft kisses on your inner thighs, making you giggle with excitement. "You don't have to do that." He looked back at you. "But I want to," he declared before his tongue instantly found your sensitive bundle of nerves, driving you back to the land of all things that were pleasure in the name of Bucky. He really did want to do it, making you come twice just as the sun rose up.

"It looks good on you," you complimented Bucky as he came out of your room, covered in the grey t-shirt, red sweater, charcoal jacket and grey jeans- the ensemble you'd bought for him yesterday. "Thanks," he grinned as he sat down for breakfast. "I'll be back by five. I've put my number in your phone," hummed as you checked yourself in front of the mirror, trying to hide the purple and green marks of last night's love-making under your scarf. I really hope Gina doesn't see that. The bruise on your cheek was nearly gone, nothing that a little makeup couldn't fix. "Okay. I'll go ask my boss if he'd let me work a shift at the new site today," Bucky responded. He got up from the table and placed his mess free plate in the sink to wash it. "Can I get you anything, doll?" You looked at Bucky mechanically washing the dishes and smiled with radiating heat. Doll. You never liked the sound of that but now it was music to your ears. Also, this was probably the longest non-reluctant conversation he'd had from his side with you. With anyone for that matter. "No. I'm good," you breathed in, trying to normalise your inhale and exhale process in his presence. Bucky put the dishes in the rack to dry when he turned to you with a keen look in his eyes. "Would you like some plums?" You thought the question had come out of nowhere as you turned to him, standing in your kitchen, his flesh hand resting over his metal, both resting over the counter. It took a moment for you to realise what the real query was. "Sure. We'll make some plum pasta tonight." His debut big toothed smile told you you were right while taking all the air out of your lungs. You picked up your bag, ready to watch the reruns of last night and today's dawn in your mind for the rest of the day, and took a step towards the door before you stopped. Something inside you made you turn around and walk towards him. This tiny sensation somewhere within you made you take his face in your palms and plant one deep kiss on his lips, making Bucky go red all over. You wished him goodbye and exited the apartment, that sensation still slithering around somewhere in your gut. Ignoring the stupid sensations, you walked out with the resolve to work without losing focus. Well, easier said than done, doll.

"Hot damn! Look at you!" Gina gave the most uncomfortable once over ever as she took your arm and walked towards your destination. "Sex does look good on you, Y/N. You are glowing." You elbowed her, trying your best to hide your blush and failing. Hard. "Gina st-" "So who is this James," she moaned near your ear, putting an arm around you. "Its-he's a friend," you finally found the courage to speak. "Friend as i-" "No! Not that kind of...he's more than a friend." Gina didn't speak anything more, her eyes reading your face quite intently. "Is he a nice a person?" You turned to her with a confused look. "Yes. He is a very nice person in his heart. I am quite sure of that." You saw Gina loosen her shoulders a little, her curls bouncing as her head moved in approval. "Good. That's good. Because I've never seen you like this before. Like you are finally grateful to be alive."

Gina words had still been ringing in your ears when you'd gathered for lunch in the restaurant opposite the library. They had still been running when the television by the bar had caught your attention; when the news of the attack at the Conference regarding the Sokovia Accords filled the thin air around you; when a somewhat familiar silhouette had been described as the attacker on TV; when it was named as the Winter Soldier. The ringing turned into a shriek as you ran down the street to grab your belongings and hail a taxi; when you got down in front of your apartment. It turned into a reckless drumming when you ran past Kline and Michael and took the elevator to your floor, finally turning into a white noise as you opened your door to an empty apartment with no sign of the man named James Buchanan Barnes anywhere except in his old clothes that still lay in your laundry basket.

All Bucky had wanted was some plums to take home- your home- before he saw the first watchful gaze from across the street. The alarms that used to go off in his head every day, had started ringing again on seeing the newspapers detailing his description for the man behind a blast in Vienna. The attack had happened yesterday. This could only mean one thing- his window to escape had been narrowed to about fifteen minutes. He to change his base, his location, hell, the entire country. But whatever he thought of, one thing was sure- he could not see Y/N again. Not any time soon. Within seconds, his day had taken a turn for the worst. Captured, controlled, freed, his journals lost to the people who wanted to capture him again, there had been many a time when he had almost slipped your name to Steve. Oh, the times he'd wanted to curse all things named Panther in this world for coming after his life. He could only think of the worst these people could do to you- even though you had no part in his life two days ago. When he'd seen his best friend have a chance at love, his mind went back to you, your smile, your laugh, your rage, your love.

But he finally broke down. He broke when he watched his former self kill the people that were supposed to be close to him once; that were family to your best friend's comrade. He broke as he saw two figures shatter themselves of their identities for his deeds. He cried at the pieces of his beginning and his end while wanting to find a way back into the safety of your arms. But he couldn't.

You had no idea how long you'd stood in the hollow apartment that was supposed to be your home. Seconds, minutes, hours, lifetimes- it all went by you, silently watching you, hearing the sounds of cracks developing on the inside. You never heard Kline, Michael or Gina enter the apartment, neither did you hear your friend's soft begging to tell her what was going on. "You're strong, Y/N. Get yourself together," Kline whispered near you, "He had to go eventually." That you definitely heard. Your nails dug into the sweaty skin of your palms for a good second as you looked at the floor, trying to gather your voice. "Who did you tell?" Your voice was clear as the crystal chandelier that hung in Kline's home above his head in the dining room. "Y/N, honey-" Kline raised his hand to touch your shoulder but you retreated away from his incoming touch. "Who did you tell?" Your monotonous tone repeated. Gina could not make out what the conversation was about exactly but she could see Kline retrieve from a zone you had created around you, almost scaring him away. "An old friend in the US army," Michael finally confessed, not caring for the daggers his husband's cold gaze threw at him. You finally turned to look at Kline when your eyes fell on another figure at the door. For a moment you thought it was a lie- the emotion that you were seeing in the green eyes in front of you. But the moment ended. So did your belief. A laugh escaped your lips. "Who did you tell?" Everyone else turned to the door to see Kalisha walk in. "None of your concern," she simply stated. "Well, at least one of you is straight forward."

"I said would you like soda?" "What flavour?" "We have plum and berry, miss." You looked at the flight attendant as if he'd been sent down personally by the force to rub it in your face. "The plum one, please." You spat back, making the attendant look at you with pure judgment in his eyes. The fizziness ran down your tongue and teased your throat as you looked out at the dark sky bringing out the lights beneath you like a party within a small ant colony. "So where are you going, dearie?" The old woman sitting next to you asked. You looked at the flickering pieces creating a wave towards some city beneath you, sitting between mountains like a cluster of fireflies. "I don't know." The thin curves of the highways spelling out a letter for you, again and again. "Well, are you heading home?" The mountains carried the floodlights like a thin strand of hair, burning and beaming. "No. I don't really have a place to call home anymore." A single drop of light somewhere in the mountains, like the mole standing out on his back. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have any family? Friends?" "...I don't know." A circle of a lake shining blue under the floodlights with the centre housing something round and dark.

A vision. Blurry

"I don't know anymore."

^J.B.B., ^Part 2, ^Part 3, ^Part 4, ^Part 5, ^Part 6, *Part 7, !Part 8, ^Part 9, ^Part 10, !Part 11, ^Part 12, Part 13

TAGLIST:

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JBB

@lost-and-wandering-alone @imsunnysu @vxidnik @sebbies @unknownuserhasjoined @cauraphernelia @queen-of-elves @fuckidontknow

(Send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future fics or if you’d like to tell me how you good/not good you found this fic/chapter. xx)

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notesfrome · 6 years

Text

Written for Hange Week Day 4: Hange’s Squad

one-shot; hange’s squad pairing: hange zoë-centric, with a side of levi/hanji word count: 1473 words note: for Hange Week at @hangelab on tumblr. Prompt for Day 4: Hange’s Squad. I wrote this to be Hange through the eyes of her squad. Sort of.

Link to fic on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852924/chapters/36982914

“It’s Squad Leader’s birthday tomorrow,” Lauda plopped down beside his comrades at their shared table in the mess hall, spooning a huge spoonful of porridge into his mouth. “We should prepare a present for her.”

“Squad Leader doesn’t like anything but Titans,” Keiji pointed out, taking a sip of something that looked suspiciously like alcohol. “So, if we want to get her something that she’ll really love, it’ll have to be a Titan. Preferably an Abnormal one.”

Across from him, Moblit sputtered, choking on his mouthful of water once he heard the word Titan. It was a word would give him instant nightmares of stress, bearing in mind the countless number of times he had to pulled Hange away from big, ugly, deformed fingers and snapping jaws with bits of rotten meat sticking to them. Shuddering, he looked at his bowl of porridge and pushed it away with a wince, losing his appetite.

“Gee, Keiji,” Nifa scoffed, stabbing at the last bit of meat on her plate. “You talked as if we could randomly pop into a shop, and picked one off the rack for Squad Leader.”

“At least I had an idea,” Keiji defended himself. “I don’t see any of you contributing ideas. Besides, we all know that nothing makes Squad Leader happier than Titans. That, or experiments. And we can’t buy experiments.”

“You’re seriously not suggesting we go out and catch one, are you?” Lauda shot him a glance. “Because as much as I respect Squad Leader, there’s no way in hell I’m going to do that.”

“Hmmm…when you think about it, it isn’t entirely impossible, I mean, we could go out at night and catch a small one…” Rashad pondered.

Nifa had the same thoughtful look on her face. “Just a small one, huh? “

Keiji lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “It isn’t as if we don’t know how to catch Titans. We had a pretty big hand in capturing all those Titans, after all. I mean, we could do it, after all, Squad Hange did capture Sonny.”

“Hey, yeah,” Abel leaned forward, tapping his spoon against his empty bowl. “It was all us, wasn’t it? Took down that ugly bastard…”

“You’re all crazy,” Moblit interjected, looking at them incredulously. He couldn’t believe that Hange’s craziness, recklessness and affinity for very bad ideas that involved trapping Titans were seemingly rubbing off some of her squad members. “Somehow, I don’t think finding out that half of her squad’s dead due to a Titan-catching stunt would make a very nice birthday present for Squad Leader Hange.”

“Fine, then you decide,” Nifa jabbed a finger at him. “Since you are probably the one what knows her best, anyway.”

Moblit sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew that Keiji was right – there really was only one thing that would make Hange truly excited. But surely there were some decent substitutes that Hange would potentially be happy with, something that would not require them to risk their lives. Something that would show her how much the Squad respected her and appreciated her leadership. Something with a personal touch.

He looked up, and smiled, snapping his fingers. “We’ll bake her a birthday cake.”

It was common knowledge that Hange had a sweet tooth. Moblit noticed that she always had a bag of sweets in the first drawer of her laboratory worktable, amidst the mess of papers, notebooks, pens and scrunched up pieces of paper. He, along with everyone else in the Survey Corps, had heard Hange bugging Captain Levi for “something sweet” on more than one occasion, although no one ever found out whether she got what she wanted from the cranky captain. It would be a safe bet to assume she never did, of course. It was hard to imagine Levi giving in to anyone, much less to someone he called ‘shitty glasses’ on a daily basis.

So, anyway, a birthday cake, personally baked by her squad members, seemed like the perfect, no-fuss gift. Surprisingly, Rashad turned out to be the one who had any kind of baking experience, so he took the lead. Everyone else took turn in the production line – cracking eggs, melting butter, measuring flour and sugar, mixing batter and so on.

“We should make it in the shape of a Titan,” Nifa said, whisking the eggs carefully with a fork.

“Seriously?” Abel made a face. “That’ll look disgusting and unappetizing.”

“Not to Squad Leader, probably,” Keiji pointed out, as he dumped cups of floor into the mixing bowl. “I can never really understand her obsession with those monsters.”

“Well,” Moblit began, stirring the butter carefully over the heat. “Squad Leader’s passion for Titan research is one of the keys to saving humanity. She might seem…overly obsessive, but I assure you, it was all to understand the Titans for the purpose of defeating them.”

“Oh, that I can see,” Keiji nodded. “We wouldn’t have gotten to where we are now if it was not for her research, but sometimes, her exuberance over Titans is a little scary.”

“I was terrified when I found out she was to be my direct superior,” Lauda admitted. “I even tried to get myself reassigned, but Commander Erwin would not entertain my request. But after a while, I found that Squad Leader’s reputation isn’t exactly a true representation of who she is. She isn’t just about the Titans.”

“Oh, but I do think Squad Leader is completely and utterly insane,” Rashad said, his tone cheerful as he took the whisked eggs from Nifa, and folded the batter. “But at the same time, she is also the most brilliant and most strategic squad leader I have served under. And for that, I would trust her with my life.”

“She’s one of the most skilled soldiers in the Survey Crops. I am, for sure, a better soldier after joining her squad,” Abel affirmed. “And you know, I feel that Squad Leader genuinely do care about us. Underneath her…weirdness, she has a kind heart.”

“I agree,” Nifa spoke up, leaning back against the kitchen table. “I think all of us here knows that Squad Leader looks out for us, as we do for her.”

“She’s only reckless when it comes to herself; she would never endanger us,” Moblit pointed out, neatly omitting the fact that he endangered himself all the time because of her, because that was his choice, and not her orders. “She would always put the squad first, if she has a choice. That’s one of the reasons why I respect her.”

Rashad poured all the cake mixture into the baking tin, and put it into the brick oven, where a fire was roaring. “I think it’s a pity that most people cannot see Squad Leader the way we do.”

“Well then,” Nifa said. “It’s their loss, and our privilege.”

Hange’s squad stood in front of the door to her laboratory, with Moblit holding their slightly misshapen cake. “Can we just open the door, and yell “surprise!”?” Keiji suggested.

“No,” Nifa frowned. “She may be running experiments, and she will never forgive us if we shock her into ruining her work.”

Moblit began, “well, seeing how she didn’t need me, I doubt that Squad Leader was performing any experiments…”

“Well, it’s settled then!” Rashad stepped forward and rapped on the door once, loudly. Pushing it opened, Hange’s squad all crowded in the doorway and sang out, “Happy birthday, Squad…”

Their greeting died on their lips as they took in the scene before them – Hange was sitting atop her worktable, hair dishevelled, shirt partially unbuttoned. A certain dark-haired captain was in front her, standing between her legs, with one hand under her shirt, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

“…Leader.” Moblit finished weakly, holding out the cake. “We…er…made you a cake.”

“Ohhh! You made me a cake? All of you?” Hange exclaimed, pushing Levi aside and hopping off the table, running towards her squad. All the men averted their eyes, as her shirt was still opened at the chest level. Hange barely noticed that little detail, as she happily took the cake from Mobilt and beamed at all of them. “That is so sweet of all of you!”

As Hange continued blabbering her thanks, all of Squad Hange did not miss the death aura emitting from one very annoyed captain.

“Squad Leader,” Moblit said hastily, interrupting Hange’s happy tirade. “We just want to wish you happy birthday, and we hope you will like the cake. But we will not disturb you further…we…err…have the kitchen to clean.”

The others all nodded quickly, as they all backed out of the door nervously. Hange waved at them, and as the door swung shut, they looked at each other, speechless. Keiji was the first to speak.

“We never saw that, and we will never speak of it.”

A little early for Hange’s birthday, but this is the plot bunny I came up with for the prompt. As said, this was intended to be Hange-centric (kinda), so I hope I marginally pulled it off.

I initially didn’t want to include the squad member with googles, because he’s nameless, but then he was quite prominent in the anime as part of Hange’s squad. Goggles seemed to be what the fandom is calling him, so Goggles it is.

*Update: I have been informed that Goggles’ real name is Abel, so, corrected!

#hangeweek #hangelab #hange's squad #hange zoë #levihan #kind of levihan #squad goals #attackontitan #fic writing

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fueledbysprite · 6 years

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Chocolate for Love, Chocolate for Hate

Happy (early) Valentine’s Day ya saps! Just thought I’d share a bit of Chlonath to sweeten up this already cavity-worthy occasion, but who doesn’t love fluff?

Based off of @powerdragonmoon‘s Buzzkill AU, but much more lighthearted and aged-down.

When most people think of Valentine’s Day, what comes to mind is a sappily sweet occasion to watch awkward love blossom between cute amateurs, else a sickeningly cheesy day that was better off removed from the calendar. Kim would shudder and change the subject, and Alix would stick a finger down her throat and gag, while Rose would coo and Marinette would nervously approach Adrien, who would respond with a wholehearted hug and kiss. But some people would remember this one as something a little different...

Exactly a year since Dark Cupid humiliated the resident mean girl and six months from the day Le Grand Paris hotel shook with the wretched scream of a blonde heiress’ discovery that a foreign antique among her precious hair accessories was infested by a yellow chibi fuzzball, Hawk Moth - still bitter about the anniversary of another failure and the overall existence of the commemoration of a saint (better known as Valentine’s Day) - released his first power duo, a couple who were each thoroughly convinced of the other’s infidelity.

In any case, Chloe had never been particularly interested in Valentine’s Day. The concept that people had set aside a day to profess their affection for one another seemed farcical and generally beneath her (though she had on multiple occasions attempted to use the event to pursue her feelings for her childhood friend). All efforts proved fruitless as his heart smoothly slipped from her fingers to the clutches of the baker’s daughter, and hence Chloe had begun to despise the observance. So when she saw the news report on a pair of baddies storming the city, she considered ditching the whole operation and spending the blasted day alone in her suite with some choice romance DVDs, ignoring the annual horde of revoltingly pink cards specially addressed to her. Finally, she abandoned the 4’ screen and released herself from the hotel, hot on the woman’s trail after she left the hotel room’s windows in shards scattered all over the floor.

Queen Bee chased both villains to the Eiffel Tower, where Ladybug had finally realized that the akuma might be a bigger priority than her civilian boyfriend, and Chat Noir, too, soon discovered there wasn’t very much left for him to do. A fuming yellow-and-black-clad girl surrendered the violet butterfly that had surprisingly survived her death grip. Ladybug purified the akuma, thanked her female comrade and swooped away with a cheerful “Bug out!” Later that night, surrounded by the woes of unrequited lovers and empty boxes of truffles, it finally occurred to Chloe that this was the first time she had been able to arrive at the scene of an attack without a certain purple pest meeting her there. An appropriate dose of triumph followed this realization that she had finally shaken off that ludicrous peacock, but at the same time, she felt off, slightly shaken by the unusual shift in the custom she had grown used to over the past half-year. Chloe decided she would care more about his absence later, electing to bask in the glory of finally having championed her adversary before admitting she felt affected by the lack of his presence and the pure fun of having a competitor.

Unfortunately for her, the victory was short-lived, as was revealed to her the very next day. The school day passed by with a great deal of annoyance on her classmates’ part - apparently that emo redhead had been taking free commissions for the special occasion, and Rose, Mylene and Marinette were gushing enthusiastically over theirs. Even Kim was thanking the artist, excitedly showing his picture to Alix and Max, who smiled appreciatively. Chloe dismissed them (internally, since Pollen would have her head if she insulted them at this point) and spent the rest of school tuning out the romantic tales everyone seemed to have to tell about the previous day. It was enough to make the blonde gag, and she couldn’t have been happier when the bell finally rang and she was free from more stories about cheesy dates and rejected crushes. Of course, since her day certainly wasn’t bad enough already, guess who was waiting for her as the city’s akuma alarms blared and citizens ran every which way in desperate panic. I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t Ladybug.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t her Royal Highness. How may I serve you, oh great Queen,” he gave a mock bow before hopping back up and flashing her a smile. “Miss me?”

“You wish,” Queen Bee rolled her eyes, squaring up. Paon however, was still leaning against the wall in a stereotypical flirty way. She resisted the urge to smack that cheeky grin off his face and put her hands on her hips. “Where were you, anyways?”

“Why do you ask? Wanted to spend the day with me instead? Can’t say I blame you,” he winked and the temptation to hit him intensified.

“Whatever. I was just wondering why you turned up the opportunity to get the miraculous. I’d have thought that two villains would be the perfect chance to grab them and give them to Hawk Moth. Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?”

“Well, partly yeah. I mean, I can’t exactly keep my miraculous if I’m not following my master’s orders, can I?” he asked unconcernedly. “But also, Hawk Moth wasn’t really even trying last time.” He stepped away from the wall and closer to Chloe, blocking her view of the raging akuma behind him. “Apparently he really hates Valentine’s Day and just wanted to akumatize someone because he had nothing better to do. I was busy, anyways. Really, though, are you sure you didn’t miss me?”

“Please. I was celebrating,” she affirmed airily. “It’s so much easier being a superheroine when a moron isn’t there to distract me every single time.”

“But you were thinking about me, weren’t you,” Paon teased.

“Paon, see, Valentine’s Day is a day to spend with the people you love. So what on Earth makes you think that I’d waste it thinking about someone I hate? And what’s got you so cheery?” she asked as an afterthought; Paon was ubiquitously annoying, but he wasn’t usually this cheeky.

“Nah, I’m just really happy it’s finally over. What better way to spend the day after Valentine’s Day with your worst enemy?” he remarked.

“Uh, aren’t we supposed to be fighting right now?” Queen Bee questioned, gesturing to her combat-ready pose and fisted hands.

“I just thought I’d give you this,” he revealed a box of cheap chocolate. The discount store sticker was still stuck on the cover - a passive-aggressive way of expressing his regard for her. Well, the bee-themed superheroine decided, two can play at this game.

She snatched the box from his hands, tore it open, and selected the best truffle for herself. Paon raised an eyebrow, reaching for the second-best.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she chastised, wagging a finger in his face. “Mine.”

Paon chuckled and grabbed a handful, stuffing them into his mouth before Queen Bee held the box up high. He jumped for it, but she smiled smugly and raised herself to her tiptoes so the shorter couldn’t reach.

“I hate you so much,” he told her, still reaching for it.

“I hate you more,” she smirked as he gave up, crossing his arms and sticking out his tongue.

“Not as much as me,” he promised, punching her arm weakly.

She grinned at him through a mouthful of dark cherry cordial, and they commenced a chase from building to building for the sweets.

Ladybug and Chat Noir stood atop city hall where a de-corrupted civilian and a white butterfly ad recently vacated the area, watching the chase.

“They’ll never change,” Chat smiled, before pulling out his own box of significantly more exquisite truffles, offering them to his Lady. She accepted, popping one into her mouth and leaning into his chest as they lowered to the platform. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she sighed contentedly.

“I love you, Kitty,” she whispered.

“I love you too Bugaboo,” he murmured, and the two sat together sharing their chocolate and watching another pair of lovebirds who were still in denial of their obvious attraction, racing across the rooftops of the City of Love.

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dclohv-blog · 6 years

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howdy everyone, i’m lara (like the croft) and this is my gutter dumpster boy ANTONIN! he’s horrible, but i’m going to try not to be; i’m 23, use she/her pronouns, and live in the central time zone. college and my job keep me up into all hours, so i’m always around to make life interesting. under the cut, you’ll find my application (which is so long and doing way too much, so bless u if u make it all the way through), in addition to which i’m also trying to whip up a good full biography page, though my proclivity for procrastination probably isn’t going to make that an easy task. please come give me all the plots, and come yell at/with me, because i’m super excited and up for anything and everything !!

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ ANTONIN DOLOHOV ] ! the muggles say he / she / they hold(s) resemblance to [ GASPARD ULLIEL ]. the [ TWENTY NINE ] year old [ MALE ] was [ MAGNETIC & PASSIONATE ] before the war, but have now become [ CONTROLLING & VIOLENT ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a / an / the [ RUSSIAN LIASON TO THE DEPARTMENT OF INTERNATIONAL MAGICAL COOPERATION ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

HEADCANONS

1) patronus — Snow bursts from beneath the feet of his steed, plumes, waves like a powdered sea, settling into his hair, dampening his shoulders; a strange cacophony of sensations this is, to be flanked by friends, to sit astride a steed known from birth, to chase after a family of deer with such plebian fervor – but to do so while wielding such magnificent power. Wand rolls between gloved fingers, cutting down branches and bursting birds into plumes of smoke and feather as he passes, the master, the pointed lead of the deadly formation. All it is, is fun – they give no thought to slaughtering deer, to gutting them and leaving them to bleed upon the snow simply for their amusement; Antonin cannot help but wonder if his horse has some sort of moral objection to chasing such a close cousin to its death – but the thought only makes him laugh. Long before he killed the poor boy whose last sight would be the walls of Durmstrang, he finds his release in the bloodshed of animals. After all, they cannot really fight back, can they? Perhaps the mountain lion can, the bear, the cougar whose skin now serves as a rug in his mother’s boudoir, but never the deer. And there is something almost erotic about complete and total domination. Surely his comrades smell his power, even now – they’ve seen it before, and they’ll see it now, even if the prey has neither the power nor the foresight to fight back. But this is joy in its essence – a band of brothers, warriors, like-minded personifications of violence itself who kill not for the pride, the purpose, the profit, but for the thrill of watching blood spill over an untouched bank of snow. Antonin throws a wild grin, a haphazard glance, over his shoulder to one of his comrades, who thrusts his wand in the air. He looks to the other, who does the same. He looks forth, wand thrust forward and battle cry, a flurry of indiscriminate curses slipping from chapped lips, and urges his horse forward.

The first deer falls with a whip-crack and a plume of red light, and -

From his wand, in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, amidst a classroom full of onlookers, bursts a Snow Leopard, snarling, slinking about the circle until it comes to curl about Antonin’s legs, broad nose prodding at his calf. With cyanide lips curled upward, he looks down upon his creation and knows – this is his soul.

In common lore, the Snow Leopard symbolizes Intuition, Solitude, Secrets, Allure, Sexual Prowess, and PURITY. A solitary animal, it watches, observes, and collects information, striking only when beneficial. It cares well for its own, and is often associated in legend and lore with self-discovery through excruciating trial. It is only appropriate, then, that Antonin produce such a manifestation of his own soul, for his own trial by fire (or ice) is ever burning.

2) amortentia — “But the real question – does your Amortentia smell of me?” The subtlest hints of Antonin’s amortentia change quite regularly, but the base is always the same. Pine, sometimes fresh, sometimes crackling at the base of a dying fire; red wine, surely just fresh poured; roses, but only just – perhaps no more than a few petals upon a bare collar; the salt of the sea, quite like the Baltic coast, for its smell is different than any other stretch of ocean he’s come upon; the distinct smell of sex –sweat, musk, the faintest floral of a familiar perfume. Amortentia is not something that Antonin likes to dwell on – love is a strange thing, ever changing; he would much rather fuck than love. But he cannot help but be torn in a thousand directions upon catching a whiff of his perfectly brewed Amortentia – home, the woods surrounding the small (“small”) manor to the north used as a vacation home, the sea… and familiar beds, familiar whiffs from upon familiar locks. Familiar perfumes and colognes upon sheets – the familiarity of a head of raven hair and a pair of strong hands. It always changes – but love remains ever constant. Constant – and unwanted.

3) boggart — “I fear nothing. Why would I? It is I who should be feared.” Antonin would rather die than admit any sort of weakness – and fear is just that: weakness. And perhaps that is indicative enough of his truest fears, that he cannot admit weakness, that he cannot admit fear, or humanity if he possesses any at all. Failure, in truth, is his greatest fear – rejection, incompetence, impotence; he got a taste of it in the form of doubt, doubt and the knowledge that his omnipotent darkness, that his overreaching power has its limits. Fear that even he is mortal, that even he can fall to error. Antonin does not fear death; to fear death would be to fear the skin into which he was born. But he does fear failure, as cliché as it sounds. Failure would mean disappointment; failure would mean letting a legacy fall to ash and ruin; failure would see a hall of proud portraits, proud men, proud names to uphold, smolder, burn, and fall to irrelevance, disrepair, and shame. His boggart sees this, of course; where Antonin assumed that he would face a boggart and see it shrug, it grows, expands to a hundred times its size. It is a wonder that it fits in the room in which it’s contained, upon facing Antonin, for where a nondescript shape once stood, a burning manor now stands. A raven-haired woman (“Mama?”) falls into the ash, clutching at diamonds with one hand and what remains of a picture frame with the other. A hunched figure stands over her, a man, a familiar back which has never shut him out until now. He calls out to them – to his mother once, twice, thrice, then his father (but only once) – but they do not turn, for they do not hear him. Perhaps they choose not to – or perhaps they simply cannot fathom any sound but the burning of their house, the dismantling of their great legacy. And all because of him.

4) wand — ELM; What is truly ironic about this wand wood, in particular, is its reputation for never making mistakes. When Antonin drew his first blood, committed his firstmurder, his mother, for a time, did her very best to pass it off as a mistake, a misfire, a malfunction of the trusty wand which was made to be precise at all times. ‘Elm wands never make mistakes’, Gregorovitch had said. Elm wands never make mistakes – and they certainly never lie, either. Antonin, of course, stood by his wand, and his choices, and his actions which disproved his mother’s claims; there was no use lying about something as honest as his wand, after all. And why would he lie?Shame is an unfamiliar sensation. Elm is a particularly fitting wand for Antonin, in addition, because it notoriously prefers wielders with innate purpose and dignity; an elegant wand for an elegant purity, and highly capable of all that Antonin will doubtlessly ask of it.

5) LITTLE BLACK BOOK; I know it’s cliché, and I know that it makes Antonin seem a bit too much like Joey Tribbiani for comfort, but he actually has a little black book of past conquests. A small leather booklet, he keeps it in a slide-away panel within the trunk at the end of his bed. It is a rather sordid little thing, with comments, notes, likes, dislikes, sweet spots all listed upon crisp pages. He writes in his thick book of consumed hearts with only the finest ink, and treats its maintaining like ritual. It grows more often than it remains stagnant, and has seen many a night alone in the common room, pages flipping near dangerously dripping candle wax, spine pressed open while ink dries; Antonin is a studious lover, and should he ever return to a past conquest, to a page in his book, he will know them like a well-memorized song. No one knows of this little black book, for he does not flaunt it, nor does he wish to share its contents with anyone. At times, he makes vague, suggestive, allusions to it, calling it his box of hearts, but those who listen simply assume that he is simply talking into the darkness to satisfy his own ego – little do they know, he has more than just intent.

6) MOTHER KNOWS BEST; Antonin is, for lack of a better phrase, a giant mama’s boy. His mother is his entire world; from the very beginning, he was more devoted to his mother than to anyone else. He’d pick her flowers from the garden (“From my garden, Ant? Those were mine to grow.”), follow her about during her rare afternoons spent painting in the solarium, and generally worship at her feet. Of course he loves his father unabashedly, but the love he feels for him is something more akin to fear for comfort. He feels a great deal of pressure in his father’s presence, but in his mother’s he feels nothing but warmth and encouragement. She was never a traditional mother, hardly giving him the outward affection so many other boys received, but even the slightest pat of approval atop his boyish head was reassurance enough. He would kill and be killed for his mother – she gave him life, and he would gladly give or take it at her command. He will build a legacy, an empire, and will build a castle at the heart of it all for his dear Mama.

7) WHEN THE ANIMALS SMELL A PREDATOR…; There was very little like time spent in the stables, amongst the horses, in the quiet of early dawn before the birds awake and the snow outside is greatly disturbed. Antonin is an accomplished equestrian, and knows a great deal about the care of horses and the technique associated with all equine areas of interest. He is quite fond of the steeplechase, and of hunting from horseback, but there is merit to a simple ride through the woods to clear one’s head; the horses are unjudging company who expect nothing of you, they are easily controlled for the most part, and they make Antonin feel innately powerful simply by being. Sitting astride a horse is elevating in more ways than one – but what is most notable, perhaps, is the way that, for the slightest moment, as Antonin pushes open the barn doors in a flurry of powder and cool air, the horses go silent. Horses are notoriously noisy, demanding creatures – but for just a moment, in a space no longer than a breath, a blink, a beat of the heart, they are entirely still, with big brown eyes upon him, watching, waiting. But then the noise resumes, for they know that this predator is on their side.

8) GOD HATES WITCHES; A small incident in the life of a magnate, an iron prince, a legacy in flesh, but a small one – on regular family trips to Moscow, he disappears for an hour at a time; his parents worry not for his whereabouts, for they know that he is more than capable of wielding the streets of Moscow on a tight leash. Upon the steps of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior he sits, black jacket billowing in formidable breeze, a cigarette between his lips and a smirk playing at their corners. It is a personal joke he shares with only himself; he once heard, as a boy, a man preaching on the steps of this very cathedral that all wielders of magic and might, anything contrary to the man’s God was an abomination, that should they step foot inside the cathedral, they would burn on the spot. And so he sits on the steps, tempting fate, tempting expectation, teasing the myth that so many muggles seem to believe so fervently. Of course he believes it not – but the symbolism, the irony, and the chance to smoke in the face of a deity is too much to pass up.

9) OF OLD KINGS AND DEAD REGIMES; Antonin’s favorite subject to study is history – history of magic, and certain facets of European muggle history, specifically. He has a collection of old history books hidden away beneath his bed, sorted into meticulous categorical piles; needless to say, he’s read through the lot of them time and time again, for they never cease to amaze and fascinate. Antonin has a particular proclivity for cruel kings and long-standing empires with bloody histories; his own family history is one that he knows like the back of his hand, their legacy of domination, terror, and omnipotence being something to behold and something not easily forgotten or passed over in the annals of magical history. He excels in History of Magic, though he, during his studies, was not the sort to openly speak out in class; his knowledge, no matter how insatiable and overreaching, is one best kept silent. His aloofness is only magnified by time spent alone in the library, reading by candlelight in his usual armchair, with quill between his teeth, and notebook and historical tomes spread on the table before him. He could list every king of every notable dynasty from the beginning of time – and he takes pride in the knowledge that his name will share a page with the lot of them soon enough.

10) NAME ANALYSIS:

ANTONIN: “beyond praise, priceless”; A fitting name for a boy of such high caliber. His ego and his expectation linger just above the clouds; Antonin was born to be great, to be praised, to dominate. He is priceless, he is without compare; his mother and father were fully aware of the connotations of their heir’s name, and he has certainly lived up to it thus far. Of course, he intends to go above and beyond the expectations laden upon his name, for he is beyond praise,and he is beyond compare.

SVIATOSLAV: “he who worships the light”; Antonin’s middle name is such for Czar Sviatoslav I of Kiev, who was known largely for his merciless and effective conquest of two of the greatest and most potent powers of Eastern Europe. He was known for his insistence upon being surrounded by nobles, and like, war-minded, individuals for the entirety of his adult life, and for his ceaseless determination to dominate in all fields. He was considered a decent ruler; very little is known about his personal life, as he was private in most things aside from his political campaigns, but persists in history as a key expander of the empire as a whole. Antonin, needless to say, is quite proud to flaunt such an accomplished name.

DOLOHOV: “of the Dolohov dynasty”; The Dolohov name is one that does not need explaining. The Dolohov name is one implicitly known, one feared and loved and revered – and rightfully so. The strength of the bloodline is paramount; the potency of the Dolohov name, the family tree and its ever-reaching roots, the legend riding upon the back of each patriarchal male born under such a name, is all that truly matters. Family and honor above self; pride and respect above personal ambition. The name comes first – the heart is secondary.

AESTHETIC

The sound of leather shoes on freshly waxed marble, chipped china shoved to the back of a dark cabinet, too-strong cologne, popped buttons on a crisp white shirt, velvet tassels with golden chain, bruises hastily covered with mother’s white powder, snow stuck to the bottom of a thick fur coat, the click of a lock overshadowed by a loud scream, hickeys in provocative places that never seem to fade, whiskey and honey in a silver flask, hidden tattoos in different languages, sitting still and stiff for a family portrait, blood splattered across snow, the groaning hull of a salty old ship, soft words reserved only for mother, history books in stacks upon old leather armchairs, halls and halls of portraits that never smile, the rush of adrenaline after giving a hard punch, a cigarette tipped between pouting lips, commanding fingers wrapped about a lily-white throat, the smell of sex on black silk, wine dribbling down a split lip. You are an old king in a new body, and you will devour their gods to make room for your own. You are loyal to your blood as it spills, infects, sublimes.

EXTRAS:

- basically, he went to Durmstrang first, but was expelled because he got involved in some shady business that ended up getting a bunch of people hurt - but does he care?? noooo

- he’s a total playboy, and a charmer that’s more snake than charm; he’s loyal to voldemort, but his own interests always come first. he’s the ‘spoiled prince from russia’ who likes to have the violent kind of fun, and thinks that the sun shines out of his butt, basically

- has an enormous Machiavelli complex. It makes him doubt if he should be a follower or not; and it makes him wonder if love is a waste of time, and if fear should replace it all

- he’s just !!!!!!!!! A DOUCHE !!!!!!!!!! but he’s fun and good in the sack so ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

- he’s also v bisexual (”my sexual preference is often”) and likes to drink people under the table.

- currently working at the ministry, but mostly in an honorary position since the russian ministry really wants like... nothing to do with anything to do with anyone else. but he feels very uppity about being a ‘liaison’, for what it’s worth

- antonin dolohov is what happens when joey tribbiani goes to the upside down, thanks for coming to my ted talk

#noc.intro #( OOC )#~ finger guns ~#i'm horrible at intros oh no

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spideyxchelle · 7 years

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love is universal. it spans time and distance. and sometimes, on the rare occasion that love doesn’t quite get it right the first, love spans for more than one lifetime. this is that story.

in this life they are called Lola and Dmitry. in their last they are called Peter and MJ.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

Lola walked through the encampment as the crisp, late-fall air nipped at her cheeks. Her band of Romani brethren wandered through many eastern countries but none as beautiful as Russia and every winter they found refuge there between the trees. It was her favorite country to make camp, the world seemed old and ancient in those forests.

A gust of wind blew her war and Lola tugged her heavy jacket around her body, crunching through the fallen leaves to where the children danced around the fire. The heat rushed to her as she got closer and Lola smiled at the little girl singing an old, Romani tune to the crowd of smiling adults.

Lola lifted her skirts just above her ankle and began to dance to the song. The little girl, Anita, caught her eye and sang louder.

They danced and sang and drank for hours, the moonlight casting a funny shadow on the camp until one by one, the Romani troupe padded back to their tents full of wine and good cheer.

Spotting Anita curled up sleepily near the fire, Lola called out, “My little dove!” Anita’s eyes flickered open, “Off to bed with you.”

Anita groused but did as Lola bid and, after, Lola was alone at the fire. She found sleeping fitful at best most nights. Nightmares haunted her dreams. Horrible, terrible dreams of boys with stars in their eyes and blood on their hands.

Lola drew her knees into her chest and began to sang an old folk song under her breath, one that she had heard her mother coo into her ear in the throws of childhood. She lifted her chin up to the sky, as if to bathe in the moonlight, and continued to sing.

And then, she heard the snap of a branch.

Lola sprang to her feet, her hand reaching for the hidden curved knife hidden in the folds of her skirt. In stilted Russian, she barked into the trees, “Show yourself.”

A man, no older than twenty, propelled himself from between the trees into the warm glow of the firelight. The firelight flickered on his uniform. Russian. She could have spat. For such a beautiful country, their soldiers were no better than brutes. Agents of an evil tsar and slaves to an even crueler country.

She did not try to hide the disgust and hate welling in her eyes.

He did not look at her like the enemy. No. He gawked at her.

He seemed stunned, which she counted her blessings for, he would be easier to overcome if he was not expecting her to attack. She drew her knife into the open and parted her legs into a strong, opening stance. Artem had once shown her how to fight. Quick and viscous, he had said. Lola could be both of those things.

Only when she drew her knife did he stop staring at her like he had been clubbed in the head. He glanced down at her knife and back up to her face and then-

He doubled over in laughter.

She startled and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?” she growled, “Do you think I don’t know how to use it?”

He wiped uselessly at his eyes. “No,” he shook his head. His Russian was much cleaner than hers, “I, just, never thought it would ever be you.”

Lola blanched, “What does that even mean?”

“Nothing,” he chuckled, and stood at his full stature, which admittedly was not that tall, and pressed on, “Are you going to kill me, then?”

She twirled the knife in her hand in a frighteningly practiced manner, “Perhaps.”

“Alright,” the boy sniffed, “Get on with it, then.”

Lola barred her teeth, more animal than girl, “I’ll do it, you know.”

He nodded, “Oh believe me. I don’t doubt it.” He opened his arms like he was inviting her to stab him in the heart, which made her heart flicker with doubt. He was so assured, so certain that she was going to strike, it had to be a trap. She was no fool. The people in her camp did not survive in the wilderness by getting tricked by traps.

So, she slowly lowered her knife. She was not going to attack him. For him to be so calm he had to be some miraculous military man, one she could not take in hand-to-hand combat.

He raised his eyebrow, surprised, “Oh. So, you’ve decided you aren’t going to kill me?”

“The verdict is still out on that.” As if to prove it, she did not put her knife away. He noticed. And she smirked.

“My unit,” he gestured behind him into the trees, “They’re camped not far from here. I came out to here relieve myself. If I can find you...so can they. You should pack up your camp and leave.”

She squinted, “Why would you help us?”

He looked like he was going to say something, but he instead settled on, “I’m not in the business of killing pretty girls.” He teased, “Even ones that want to kill me.”

Lola tightened her grip on her knife, “What’s your name, soldier?”

The boy’s face spread in a strange, delighted grin. Lola felt the back of her neck prickle and she considered throwing her knife at his neck to end this conversation once and for all. She stayed her hand. The Russian licked his lips, “You want to know my name?”

“I asked,” she scoffed, “didn’t I?”

He stuffed his hands in his state issued uniform and smiled broader. He had a nice smile. “Dmitry,” he said clearly, like he wanted her to really listen and absorb it. Like he considered this moment of paramount importance. “My name is Dmitry. And yours?”

Lola glanced beyond the trees to see if any of his comrades had joined him for an afternoon bathroom break, but there were none there. She knew she was wasting time talking to him. She knew that she should be burying her knife in his chest and warning her people that a Russian legion was nearby. But she found herself trapped in a conversation with this boy, this Dmitry. And worse still, she did not want to stop taking to him.

“Lola,” she gruffly said, “My name is Lola.”

“I like your name,” he said pleasantly. Like this was a conversation they were having over soup at a campfire, not in the darkness with her knife drawn and his entire unit sleeping somewhere nearby. She had never interacted with a Russian soldier before but, somehow, she knew that this was not a typical interaction. Dmitry was strange. Stranger than any man she had ever met. He had taken one look at her knife and laughed. Perhaps, she thought, he was crazy. “Do you know what it means?” he asked.

She held tight to the hilt of her knife like it gave her some sort of mystical power. Tightly, she replied, “Sorrow.”

“Ah,” he mused, “Yes, well, that’s fitting.”

“Are you calling me sorrowful, soldier?” she snapped.

His features softened into displaced fondness, “I hardly know you well enough to say.” It felt like an inside joke, his words, and Lola growled. She had known Dmitry for all of five minutes and he was acting as if they were old friends that he had happened to come upon in the forest. She loathed him.

“Fine, then,” she prodded, “what does yours mean?”

“It has a couple of meanings,” he said, taking a cautious step toward her. She took the same amount of room back away from him. Lola wanted to keep her distance. This strange man was her enemy, no matter how congenial he was pretending to be. “Of the earth,” he put his hands up as if to calm a nervous animal and stepped forward, “like....death. I am born and return to earth. Morbid, isn’t it?”

Lola remained, against her better judgement, standing by the fire, transfixed by each step he took toward her. The closer he got the more interesting her became. His nose had obviously been broken a few times as it was crooked and bent in two places. Yet, somehow, it made him look even more goofy and dignified. He was handsome. She was ashamed to realize that was what was so intriguing about his features: he was handsome and she noticed.

“Are you the bringer of death?” Lola whispered, the crackle of the fire louder than her voice.

His lips quirked upwards, “No, not me.” She heard the unspoken words, the insinuation that she was the one who brought death.

Lola’s face lit up in fury, “Go now and I’ll let you live.” He pressed a presumptuous hand on her waist and her mouth dropped open in shock. He looked so thrilled by his audacity and her reaction. She could have stabbed him. Really, the knife was still sitting in the palm of her hand. “How dare you,” she hissed.

“I like this dress,” he ignored her outrage. “This life suits you.”

“Is that a remark on me being Romani, soldier?”

He sighs like she’s missed some key ingredient, like he almost expected her to, “No. Nothing. Ignore me.”

She knocked his hand off of her waist and spat in his face, “I’m trying.”

He wiped away her spit but did not look at all bothered by her response. Again, only amusement. It was dripping off of him in irritating waves that were smacking her in the face with every passing second. Nothing she did seem to affect him or even alarm him.

“Okay,” he rumbled, “I’m going.” True to his word, Dmitry began to back away from her and suddenly Lola could breathe. Like he had snatched the air from her lungs when he was so close and now she could taste the sweetness of breath. She took a faulty step toward him and stopped herself, had to force her feet to stall. He was yanking her into his orbit and she was not one to be taken by a pretty face, much less a Russian one.

He adopted a serious soldier persona for only a moment, “Pack your things and run.” And then, as strangely as he had arrived, he was gone.

She took a heavy breath to compose herself before she headed his advice and ran to the tents, waking up every man, woman and child at the camp. Bleary eyed children clung to their parents and the leaders of the camp discussed their best course of action.

Some argued for them to stay and fight, others wanted to run and find safety and shelter where they could. She knew the blood of her people did not take well to cowardess, but the Russian army was better supplied then they were and her people had children with them.

It was because of the children they finally ran. In waves they left to not draw attention to themselves and Lola stayed behind to leave with the final group to make sure that everyone was safe.

This was the lie she told herself to avoid facing the fact that she would not have minded seeing Dmitry again. In the nights following his strange arrival, she slept without nightmares; in fact, she dreamed. Dizzy dreams of kisses and heroes unlike any she had ever seen before. She dreamed that Dmitry could fly. He swung between buildings built like mountains and called her Em.

She saw him so often in her dreams that when he came wandering back into camp she half-expected him to be a phantom of her dreams. Until he smiled at her and weakly waved, “Hi.”

Lola was so startled her hand flew out and collided with his face. His already crooked nose broke and began to gush buckets of blood. Her people left at the camp gawked at the sight. And Dmitry cursed in a language she barely had enough control over to speak complete sentences. She did manage to piece out his lamenting, “That’s the second time you’ve done that.”

She has a strange rush, almost a memory, of a tiny house and a boy bleeding into a rag. Marcus. War. Egypt. But as soon as she can hold onto the memory long enough to make it semi-tangeable it was gone.

She did not apologize for her attack, instead she demanded, “What are you doing here?”

He clutched his nose to help contain the bleeding and looked up at her in exasperation, “I wanted to see if you were alright.” He tacked on, “If I had known you were going to hit me I might have reconsidered.”

Lola could feel all of the eyes on her, the curious, probing questions that were beginning to take form in the camp, and so she rushed him into the nearest tent. Her own.

Inside, she tossed a rag at him and he quickly staunched the bleeding. She huffed, yanked him down into a seated position on her furs, and tipped his head back to help stop the flow of blood. “Keep your head back, or else you’ll get blood everywhere.”

“I wouldn’t,” he moaned, “have gotten blood on everything if you hadn’t punched me.”

“You shouldn’t have come back and startled me.”

“I don’t punch people when they surprise me!”

She raised her voice, “Be grateful I didn’t break your neck!”

Another voice, a younger one, shrieks:

You stupid, bullheaded-

He laughed, or she assumed it was a laugh, but with the injury it sounded more like a muffled gargle, “Sorry.”

Her entire body language deflated and she found herself quipping, “Why’d you even come back here?”

Dmitry‘s eyes turned on her, golden and wholesome, “I had to see you.”

“You don’t know me,” she argued.

His words were loaded, “Doesn’t matter. I had to see you.”

“What?” her voice was higher and more nervous than she would have liked, “Because I’m some silly Romani girl you think you can toss a few nice words at me and I’ll drag you into bed? Because that’s not how this goes.”

Dmitry rolled his eyes. She knew that it sounded like she was fighting with him just to fight, but she could not help it. He made her nervous and more nervous than just because of his rank in the Russian army. He made the girly, secret parts of her nervous. The parts that she swore she would never let fall prey to a winning smile or a flirty comment.

“That’s not what I’m expecting.”

Her face fell, “So, what? I’m not good enough for a good and loyal Russian?”

“Are you to argue with me on every point just for argument’s sake?”

She had no good answer for him, so she opted to sit in silence as he took care of his nose. The next hour they sat in icy silence as he waited for the bleeding to stop. Every once in a while, their shoulders would brush and linger and neither of them stopped the other from this simple pleasure. She did not have to talk to him to share in his warmth or delight at the delicious surge of electricity his touch awoke in her.

Growing bold, his hand eventually reached across for hers. She snarled, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re being very difficult in this life, you know that?” She gawked at him before he answered in a way that made actual sense, “I’m trying to hold your hand.”

“And why do you think I wanted you to hold my hand?” she challenged.

His face flushed in deeply rooted embarrassment. He snatched his hand away like he had been burned and stuttered, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just...assumed.”

She would never know why she did it. Later, she would blame his adorable broken nose and the endearing way he had started to apologize. But, in truth, she did it mostly because she wanted to and Lola did not deny herself the things that she wanted. She was only going to live one life and so she did not understand the point of denying her heart what it desired.

Lola hoisted her leg over Dmitry’s lap, effectively straddling him, and he blinked up at her in terror and the edge of something else. He looked at her the way she had seen lovers over the years look. Her mother had called this look a word once and she had never seen it up close before. She had never been gazed at.

Dmitry‘s chest rose and fell in a shallow pattern and Lola smirked. He was practically shaking beneath her fingertips. She traced the ends of her fingers along the bridge of his broken nose and he closed his eyes in pain. “Don’t,” he mumbled, “We shouldn’t.”

Then, strangely, his eyes snapped open. Like the very words that came out of his mouth surprise him. Like he had gone off the rails of some predetermined script.

She rolled her eyes and slanted her mouth over his and he sighed like she had delivered him from loneliness. Lola felt it, too. He lifted a shaky hand up to cup her face and she did not stop him. She tilted her hips against his own in an eager, jerky manner. Each gesture dragged a helpless, desperate sound from the back of his throat.

Lola was no blushing maid. She did not falter when he rid her of her dress, nor did she pause when he kissed down her torso in a precise, practiced manner, nor did she gnaw on her lip in fear when, in one swift motion, he sheathed himself inside of her. She matched his every yearning and fueled the fire that was pulsing underneath his skin and bleeding into her bones. They blazed brilliantly and far too soon it was over.

She laid on his chest after and squinted at his broken nose, “Does it hurt?”

He turned his head and his floppy hair followed, “My nose?”

Lola rolled her eyes and sarcastically quipped, “No, your gentle heart. Yes, your nose.”

Dmitry kissed her distractedly, “No. No, its okay.” Silence enveloped the tiny ten as Dmitry searched deep for the courage to ask, “When do you leave?” She pushed herself onto his chest and kissed down the line of his chest to the patch of skin just above her favorite part of him. He bit down a groan as she nibbled on the sensitive area. “Lola,” he gulped, “Answer me.”

“First light,” she said offhandedly.

He yanked her up to crush his lips against her own and she pouted. There was something else she would rather be doing with her mouth, but Dmitry was so infuriatingly taken with kissing her lips. He kissed her like he did not have enough time to cherish her. Which was preposterous.

“Lola,” he pushed into her mouth. Her name was sweetest on his lips, “Lola, my darling, run away with me?”

She giggled against his lips and swatted easily at his bare chest, “You’re the craziest man I’ve ever met.”

“Lola, please,” his voice sounded sad, she thought, and she tried to kiss away his agony. And he let her, like he knew that he could not fight destiny. She would leave tomorrow and never see him again, but they could have the night.

And so, he took her for the night. And he kissed her like every kiss could have been their last. And he held her in his arms and shattered her heart into a million pieces until all the pieces were singing his name in unison: Dmitry, Dmitry, Dmitry.

His hands were never idle and every time she thought he would rest or relent, he would push through the fatigue and take her walking through the galaxy where there was no light or darkness or sound or knowledge. Only the sensation of something greater.

The sun tickled her nose awake the next morning and Lola hid her face in the safety of Dmitry’s broad chest. He rumbled a laugh and ran his fingers through the softness of her hair, getting tangled as he tried, “Are you not a morning person?”

“Hardly,” she reasoned, pushing herself off of the bed. She dressed efficiently and with her clothes back on their moment was over. She told herself it didn’t matter. There would be others, many others in her life of wandering, but the way that he looked at her she was not sure anyone else would be able to duplicate.

Good, she harshly thought, I am no man’s flowered lady.

“We can still go,” he rubbed his face and sat up, the furs pooled at his waist. Lola had no qualms about gawking at him. He glanced down at his chest and back up to her eyes and, infuriatingly, he smirked, “We could run away.”

“Run away from what?” she tossed her hair back, “I don’t run.”

“All Romani run,” he shook his head and dressed.

She narrowed her eyes at him and petulantly crossed her arms over her chest, “Wandering is not running.”

“Like hell it isn’t, MJ,” he buckled up his boots.

“You don’t know me, Dmitry.”

“Please,” he stood to his full stature, which felt intimidating in spite of his size, “You don’t even believe that.”

She opened her mouth to speak and promptly shut it. Lola could have argued, said she didn’t know what he was implying, but it would have tasted false and bitter on her tongue and, for some reason, she knew she could lie to herself, but the thought of lying to Dmitry was much more difficult. She felt for him. A strange and otherworldly feeling.

“I don’t,” she coughed, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He stepped into her space and her breath hitched prettily, like a maiden in one of those western stories. Dmitry whispered, “Leave me. Use me. But don’t lie to me.”

She parted her lips, “Dmitry, I-”

“RUSSIAN GUARDS!” A voice cried from beyond her tent. Lola’s stomach flared in fear and she pushed her legs out of her tent and into what was left of her camp. It was on fire. She roared in despair.

Dmitry stumbled out of her tent and she looked to him, her eyes furious, “You did this. You led them straight to us.”

His eyes widened, “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t!”

“You betrayed us,” she slammed her hands against his chest and he stumbled backward.

He looked desperately at her, looking to draw something out of her, some kindness, she was not capable of finding as her friends and families homes burned. She had gotten most of them away, but those that remained Dmitry as good as killed them himself.

“Lola,” he reached for her. She drew her knife. It shone in the flickers of the flames and he did not miss her meaning. She wanted him to know that she would kill him, that if he took another step forward she would slice him to bits. “Lola,” he tried again, raising his hands, “Lola, you have to believe me.”

“A Russian?” she spat on the ground, “I would rather die.”

His eyes watered, “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

“You talk in riddles!” she yelled. And he jumped at the magnitude of her voice. She could have blown her whole village down with just the fury of her tone. “You call me names I don’t know and say things that make no sense. You filthy Russian swine!”

“Lola,” he spoke lowly, beseeching her to listen but she would not. She was done listening to his lies, “Lola, I did not do this.”

Lola could hear the screams of her people burning, of the women the soldiers cut down with glee. She could hear the horses squealing and children crying. The tragedy filled her body until there was nothing left of Lola but wrath.

She lunged with her knife as battle raged around them.

Dmitry did not move, he did not try and move out of the way of her attack. She felt the full force of her blade impale him. It sunk into his skin with a sickening squelch. He gasped and she looked into his eyes, digging it deeper.

Her hands came away red with his blood and she tumbled backward, a shooting deep pain in her side. She fumbled to stop the pain, to abate it somehow, but nothing work. It radiated like a flesh wound.

His eyes widened in some nauseous realization. Lola looked at him in agony.

Dmitry collapsed to the ground. She fell, too. Too ill to think and her mind swimming with immeasurable suffering.

Dmitry’s bloody hands dragged his body over to where she lay and he gently brushed her hair out of her face as she cried, weeping into the ground and begging the pain to stop. She felt him coat her hair with his blood and she was too weak to do anything but cry harder. He kissed her face as his own paled, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She choked on the bile raising in her throat until she vomited. He cupped her face and pressed his wavering lips to hers, “I didn’t know you felt it.”

“Riddles,” she gasped.

And Dmitry, with one last push of strength, rolled off of her and died.

The agony of her own radiating, invisible wound doubled. She shook and screamed and the Russian soldiers around her shouted witchcraft, cried for revenge for their fallen comrade, and took her suffering away with one aimed gunshot to her head.

Her last thought in that life was this: Peter.

#headcanon ask #reincarnation au #spideychelle

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