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talkfastromance4 · 3 years

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fun day with uncles//Luke&Lily special feat Ashton and Calum

a/n: I want to expand on the relationships the girls have with their uncles (and soon Oliver and Michael) so I hope you enjoy!

word count: 2.1 k

warnings: none, just fun and fluff with our girls and Cashton :)

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Enjoy!

***

You and Luke were going to the doctor’s office for Oliver’s routine check-ups and Calum and Ashton offered to take the girls out for a day. Lily and Posy were talking nonstop about it during breakfast asking where they were going and what they were going to do.

“Will Duke be with us?” Lily asks while you’re styling her hair in her room. Luke has Posy in her room getting her dressed and Oliver is in his swing sucking on his fingers.

“I don’t know, honey. I guess we’ll see when they come pick you up,” you kiss her head watching her pull on her socks.

That was the one request Ashton and Calum had for you and Luke; the girls had to wear shoes and socks. You had packed sunscreen, goldfish crackers, and some extra pull-ups for Posy in case she had an accident. She’s been doing really well going potty on the toilet but accidents happen. You packed an extra outfit and sweaters just in case and placed them in one of Luke’s backpacks.

You figured Ashton and Calum wouldn’t want to carry around the baby bag that you have.

“I ready! Let’s go!” Posy announces skidding to a stop in Lily’s doorway.

“Uncle Ash and Uncle Cal aren’t here yet, bug,” Luke laughs poking at her cheeks from behind.

The girls busied themselves with their toys as you and Luke made sure you had everything you needed for Oliver. Then there was a knock on the door followed by Petunia barking and the girls screaming in excitement running down the hall.

When it opens, Posy rushes to Ashton’s legs and Lily grabs hold of Calum’s hands pulling him inside the house.

“Hey, hey, let them get in the door,” Luke laughs entering the living room behind you.

Oliver woke up from the loud noises and you scooped him up into your arms, rocking him slightly until he calmed down.

“I want to be greeted like this everywhere I go,” Calum laughs, lifting Lily in his arms. “Are you ready for a day of fun, Lils?”

“Yes! Where are we going?” Lily asks.

“Up, up, up Unca Ash!” Posy is trying to climb her way up Ashton’s legs. He picks her up easily as well and pokes her nose.

“Hi little one,” he grins then turns to Lily. “It’s a surprise, but there’s rides, animals, and yummy food.”

You and Luke exchange a look. Rides?

“What kind of rides?” Luke asks, his eyes moving to Lily who’s always been the most cautious with certain things.

“A carousel and pony rides,” Calum eases.

“Ponies?” Lily’s eyes widened.

“Do not let them out of your sight,” Luke warns, lifting the backpack you packed and handing it to Ashton.

“We won’t. How long do you think you’ll be at the doctor’s?” Ashton asks. Calum moves forward towards you and gazes lovingly at Oliver.

“No idea. They’ll probably check his oxygen levels, weigh him, take some blood...a few hours at least,” you respond. “I packed extra clothes and some snacks for them.”

“We’ll be back before dinnertime,” Ashton informs. “You girls ready to go?”

“Bye mama! Bye Daddy!” Posy waves.

“Have fun and listen to your uncles, okay?” you tell them. “And hold their hands.”

“We will mama. Bye Olly!” Calum sets her back on the ground and she touches Oliver’s arm softly.

***

Ashton carries Posy along the grounds of where the circus is in town. There’s a train painted in bright colors with animals drawn all over it and clowns are walking around. Lily is holding onto Calum’s hand taking in all of the sights around her.

“Where should we go first?” Ashton asks, looking at the booths of face painting, jewelry, t-shirts, concessions, and games with colorful stuffed animals.

“Let’s just start on one end and work our way around,” Calum shrugs.

And so they did. First, they ordered a large lemonade that was shared amongst the four of them and looked at the animals. Lily and Posy wanted to feed them so Calum bought the food from a machine that usually holds pieces of gum. He took photos and videos of the girls laughing at the tickling sensation from the goats’ whiskers.

“Goats are pretty cute,” Ashton muses, scratching one on the head.

“No way are you going to get a goat,” Calum shakes his head.

“I want a goat!” Posy claps her hands.

“Ask your daddy that, little one,” Ashton giggles.

They wash their hands and look at the rest of the animals for a bit longer until Posy whispers something in Ashton’s ear.

“She needs to use the potty,” Ashton tells Calum with wide eyes.

“Oh, okay. Uhh…” Calum looks around but all he sees are portable ones. “Looks like those are our best option.”

“Those are disgusting,” Ashton crinkles his nose. “There has to be an actual bathroom somewhere. Let’s ask someone.”

Calum and Lily follow him to a worker and shockingly enough, there is an actual bathroom building but it’s way in the back.

“Can you hold it until we’re at the bathrooms, little one?” Ashton asks, already walking towards the back at a brisk pace. Calum and Lily follow.

They push through the crowds of people muttering their apologies. At long last, they’re in front of the building and thankfully see a door that’s labeled as ‘family’ restroom.

“Here we go,” Ashton says and Calum stops him.

“Do you even know what to do?”

“I’m not dumb, it can’t be that hard. Have some faith, man,” Ashton shakes his head and moves into the restroom.

Calum looks down at Lily who gives him a nervous smile.

“Do you think Uncle Ash will drop her in the toilet?” Calum asks and she giggles.

“I hope not. Dada always sings when she’s on the potty to help.”

Calum looks to the restroom door and approaches it. He knocks lightly.

“Occupied!”

“It’s me!” Calum shouts. “Lily says Luke sings to her to help her go.”

“Sings what?”

Calum looks down at Lily.

“Wheels on the bus.”

“Wheels on the bus!” Calum shouts.

“Got it! Thanks!”

Calum notices a bench against the wall and he pulls Lily onto his lap.

“You’re such a great big sister, you know that? You remind me of my big sister,” he says then realizes Mali hasn’t officially met the girls or Oliver.

“Who?”

“My big sister, Mali.”

“Mama showed me Mali! She sings pretty.”

“Yeah, she does,” Calum grins, “she’d love to meet you someday. I’ll see if she can come visit me soon.”

“Can we ride the ponies next?” Lily asks and Ashton comes out with Posy with a triumphant smile.

“Did it all go well, then?” Calum asks.

“She did such a good job,” Ashton praises and Posy is grinning like he is. “Your mama and daddy are going to be so proud of you, Posy.”

“Way to go Posy!” Calum and Lily clap their hands. “Lils wants to go on the pony rides next.”

“Then let’s go see some ponies!”

Calum and Ashton were able to walk alongside the ponies to make sure the girls didn’t fall off. There was a strap that could be secured around their waists. Calum held onto Lily who kept petting at the pony’s mane and neck as he strutted around the circle.

Ashton was speaking in a southern accent trying to sound like a cowboy and Posy was laughing the whole ride.

After the ponies, they had lunch which consisted of a slice of pizza and some fruit that was sold as a side. Games were next and Posy loved watching Ashton do the hammer one to test his strength. Her peels of laughter encouraged him to keep trying until he finally hit the bell at the top.

He asked Posy which toy she wanted as a prize and chose a purple looking monster with orange teeth and green hair. Lily looked at it apprehensively so Calum towed her along to the water games. She had a good shot with the water guns being aimed at the spinning target as it ascended up the pole, but she didn’t beat the buzzer.

“It’s okay Lils, let’s try this one over here.”

They walk over to the ping pong toss over small fish bowls while Ashton and Posy are throwing balls at glass bottles. Calum buys a bucketful of ping pongs and tries to help Lily with her throws. He loves how dainty she holds the white ball in her hand and she sticks her tongue out in concentration. One of her eyebrows quirks up and she looks so much like Y/N when she does it it throws Calum for a loop.

“Try not to aim for one certain one,” Calum says. “Just throw it and I’m sure you’ll make one in.”

“Okay…” Lily tosses a ball.

She and Calum watch it in slow motion as it hits one bowl then falls into the one next to it. Lily lets out a scream and Calum whoops in excitement as the attendant shouts out “WINNER TO THE LITTLE GIRL IN PINK!”

“I won! Unca Cal I won!” she jumps up and down clutching Calum's fingers.

“Way to go, Lils!” He congratulates and Ashton and Posy come by.

“What’s going on?” Ashton asks just as the attendant comes forward with a bag of water and a small pink fish.

“Lily won a fish,” Calum explains proudly and takes the bag.

“No way! Lily, that’s awesome!”

“I thought she’d like this pink one,” the attendant smiles.

“She loves pink, thank you,” Calum grins and bends down to Lily’s height. “What do you think, Lils?”

“He’s pretty,” she smiles, poking the bag lightly where the small fish is poking in the corner. “Will mama let me keep him?”

“I don’t see why not, you don’t have to walk them.”

“I love him. His name is Bruno.”

“That’s the perfect name,” Calum grins.

“Po, look at my fish.”

Posy scrambles down from Ashton’s arms and presses her nose to the bag.

“He’s tiny!” Posy crinkles her nose.

The rest of the day Calum carried Bruno and Lily would check on him periodically. Posy started to get fussy and they ended the day at the pet store to get some supplies for Bruno. The clerk informed them that Bruno was a male betta fish and about 6 months old.

Calum bought a small tank with gray stones and a lily pad for the fish to sleep on; Lily loved knowing that bit of information that betta fish like to nestle. He bought food and some colorful fake plants.

Ashton stayed with Posy in the car because she fell asleep on the ride to the pet store.

“He won’t...die right away will he?” Calum asks nervously as Lily inspects some more water accessories.

“No, as long as you feed him and change the water periodically he should live for about four years.”

“Four?”

“That’s the average lifespan of betta’s. He’ll be a good starter fish for her if she wants to get another one. When the time comes.”

Calum feels saddened by that because he doesn’t want Lily to be sad when the fish will die. But she’s so enamored by him there’s no way he’ll tell her any of this.

He’ll just tell Luke.

***

“Mama! Look what I got!” Lily runs through the door with Bruno in his bag. She stops in the kitchen where you’re making dinner, Oliver is held against you in the wrap around your body. “I won him! His name is Bruno and Uncle Cal got him a nice home and some food!”

“He did? Wow, he’s so pretty sweetie,” you smile looking at the pink fish.

“What’s with all the noise, is there a circus in town?” Luke asks, coming up from the stairs. “Hey bug, are you still sleepy?” He takes Posy from Ashton’s arms, Posy rests her head in Luke’s neck.

“Look dada! I got a fish!” Lily spins around and shows Luke Bruno.

“Oh wow, and he’s pink! Did you have fun at the circus?”

“Yeah, Po used the potty and won a monster. We had lemonade and pizza and cotton candy. Can Uncle Cal help me with Bruno’s tank?” Lily looks up at you and Luke.

“Absolutely. Thanks for buying everything Uncle Cal,” you smile at him and Lily runs to her room. Luke follows to put Posy down to finish her nap and Ashton crashes on the couch sighing heavily. “Busy day, huh?”

“I don’t know how you and Luke do it,” Calum shakes his head. “And now with three? You’re super human.”

“I’m just a mom.”

“You’re the best mom, lovie,” Luke reappears with a smile. “I take it you two are staying for dinner? Need us to bathe you and tuck you into bed as well?”

“The only one I’ll let bathe me is Y/N,” Ashton sighs, closing his eyes and you laugh loudly.

“Sorry mate, she’s all mine,” Luke gives you a kiss on the cheek and Calum goes to Lily’s room. “Can’t wait to spend the weekend with you, soon.”

Taglist: @calumance @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @fivesecondsofonedirection

Luke&Lily: @prentisswrites

#luke & lily #uncle!sos #uncle ashton #uncle calum #luke&lily oneshot #luke&lily fluff

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imnotusedtobeingloved · 3 years

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THAT’S ROUGH, BUDDY.

(PLEASE DON’T REPOST/REBLOG)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader

Characters: Zuko, Katara, Aang, Toph, Sokka, Uncle Iroh (mentioned).

Requested: I guess?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part seven of “destiny is a funny thing”.

previous part

A/N: Hey guys! It’s part seven already! Let’s see how long i can keep this up lol. Have fun reading!

The steaming hot liquid in the pot reminded you of a long time ago. Of a small tea shop in the Earth Kingdom to be more specific. And so did the boy that poured it.

“No one can make tea like Uncle, but hopefully I learned a thing or two. Would you like to hear Uncle’s favorite tea joke?” He balanced a tray full of cups as well as a kettle. “Sure,” Katara said. “I like jokes,” Aang agreed and Toph didn’t seem unenthusiastic either. “Bring it!”

“Okay,” Zuko nodded, serving tea to the Duke and Haru before standing up, holding the tray. “Well, I can’t remember how it starts, but the punch line is “Leaf me alone, I’m bushed!”

The group stared at him. Silently.

“Well, it’s funnier when Uncle tells it,”

“Right ...” Katara dragged out the word. “Maybe that’s because he remembers the whole thing,” And as the rest of the group started laughing, Zuko gave a small smile. “It’s nice to get a chance to relax a little. It hardly ever happens,” Toph said, grabbing the cup Zuko handed her, before he approached Sokka. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" Your eyes followed the Water Tribe boy as he walked out, shortly followed by the prince. “What was that about?” You furrowed your brows, turning to Katara. “I don’t know,” She shrugged, sipping on her tea. “Hopefully my brother isn’t plotting anything stupid,”

The Team stayed gathered together around the fire until the sun left the sky and the night broke in.

Soon you were cuddled into your warm sleeping bag, the fire long since diminished. Your brows furrowed unconsciously upon a distant rustle, mind still foggy from your dreams. Drifting away once more, your features relaxed, only to be interrupted again seconds later. Sleepily you blinked your eyes open, trying to see through the dark with a cloudy vision.

It was probably nothing, you thought, turning around onto your other side, and the last thing you saw was the empty bedroll next to you...

Wait.

Empty?

You shot up, getting tangled in the sheets and tumbling over before you caught yourself. Careful not to wake the others, you stood up, looking around.

Where could he have gone? Had he left and betrayed you again? But how would he even get away?

You shook your head at the thought before it occurred to you. Appa! He wouldn’t, would he? You ran towards the bisons sleeping spot, heart beating rapidly, as if you didn’t know what to fear more: Finding Appa gone, or the prince.

Your lungs ached as you rounded the last corner, where you found the bison, fast asleep. A breath of relief passed your lips, walking up to him and crawling the soft furr next to his snout, to which he purred quietly. Suddenly a head appeared above the saddle, prompting a startled gasp from you. “(Y/N)?”

“Zuko!” You hissed, a hand over your chest. “What are you doing here?” The shadow questioned looming over you. “I’m the one that should be asking that question!” You pulled yourself up to the saddle, sick of him staring down at you. He grabbed your arm, pulling you up and finally explained when you landed next to him. “I have the feeling that Sokka might be up to something,” He drew his hood back and furrowed his brows. “Up to what exactly?” You searched his appearance for any indications, but he didn’t give anything away. “He asked me about the war-prisoners today. Where they would be put away,” Your eyes widened. “The Boiling Rock,” He nodded. “Exactly. I have the suspicion that he might try to-”

Your whispers where interrupted by silent steps in the distance and a quiet “Shhh,” from below. You and Zuko shared a look as someone climbed up, and eventually peaked over the rim of the saddle. “Not up to anything, huh?” The prince asked, arms crossed. Sokka fell, with a stiffled scream, his bags content spilling out on the floor. He gave you a resigned look. “Fine, you caught me. I’m gonna rescue my dad. You happy now?”

“No!” You exclaimed, while Zuko took an entirely different approach. “I’m never happy,”

"Look, I have to do this. The invasion plan was my idea, it was my decision to stay when things were going wrong,” The prince raised a brow at his words and jumped down from the saddle. “It’s my mistake, and it’s my job to fix it. I have to regain my honor. You can’t stop me, Zuko. And neither can you (Y/N),” He pushed Zuko aside, beginning to climb up to you. ”You need to regain your honor?” The prince questioned. “Believe me, I get it. I’m going with you,”

“No. I have to do this alone,”

You put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly. “No, you don’t, Sokka. We’re all in this together. We’re here for you,” Zuko nodded, motioning to the bison. “And besides, how are you going to get there? On Appa? Last time I checked, prisons don’t have bison daycares,” The boy looked between the two of you, before he sighed, shoulders slumping. "We’ll take my war balloon,” Zuko gestured for you to follow him, before leading the way.

The travel to the Boiling Rock remained silent for the most part.

Sokka had sat down on stack of boxes, while you leaned against the railing. Zuko blasted fire into the tank from time to time, making sure it kept moving. But eventually even the silence got deafening. “Pretty clouds,” Sokka spoke up. “Yeah ... fluffy,” You resisted the urge to slap a hand against your forehead, while Sokka whistled. "What?” Zuko said, giving him a look. “What? Oh, I didn’t say anything. You know, a friend of mine actually designed these war balloons,”

“No kidding,” The prince raised his brows. “Yep, a balloon ... but for war,” Zuko blasted more fire into the tank. “If there’s one thing my dad’s good at, it’s war,”

“Yeah, it seems to run in the family,” The firebender gave him a defensive look. “Hey, hold on. Not everyone in my family is like that,” Sokka held his hands up. “I know, I know, you’ve changed,” The prince lowered his gaze, shacking his head slightly. “I meant my uncle. He was more of a father to me. And I really let him down,” He gave you an indefinable look, but he redirected his attention so quick that you wondered wheter you’d just imagined it.

“I think your uncle would be proud of you. Leaving your home to come help us? That’s hard,” The boy argued, fumbling with his boomerang. “It wasn’t that hard,” Sokka’s head shot up. “Really? You didn’t leave behind anyone you cared about?”

“Well, I did have a girlfriend. Mai,” You bit your lip to keep quiet, waiting for his next words. “We tried for some time but it didn’t work out. It wasn’t what I wanted,” He seemed to have more to say, but Sokka interrupted with a sly smile. “That gloomy girl who sighs a lot?”

"Yeah,” Zuko confirmed, giving you a quick glance that went unnoticed. “My first girlfriend turned into the moon,” Zuko’s brows shot up before he briefly looked into the sky. “That’s rough, buddy,” He said, eyes landing back on Sokka. “What about you, (Y/N)?” You grew stiff, staring at Sokka’s face. “Me?”

“Yes, what about you? Any lovers in sight?” You crossed your arms, taking a moment to think. Zuko’s burning eyes roamed over your silhouette, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes. “No,” You answered eventually, lowering your head. “No one,”

By nightfall Sokka had fallen asleep, preventing you to do so with his loud snores.

Zuko was busying himself with keeping the tank full, while you took a look out in the distance.

“There it is!” You alerted the others, pointing towards the large construction. The Water Tribe boy awakened from his slumber, staggering over to see it. ”There’s plenty of steam to keep us covered. As long as we’re quiet, we should be able to navigate through it without being caught,” Zuko plotted. But as you entered the volcano’s steam, the balloon began to lose altitude quickly. “We’re going down! The balloon’s not working anymore!” Zuko blasted fire up into the balloon, but with no avail. “The air outside is just as hot as the air inside so we can’t fly!” You said, grabbing his arm to stop him. “So what are we supposed to do?” His gaze flew from you to Sokka. “I don’t know!” He said. “Crash-landing?”

The balloon skidded along the boiling water, splashing Sokka’s hand, which he shook while you put a hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming. Your aircraft hit the base of the rock, throwing you out in the process. You moaned, getting up and rubbed your sore hip. “How are we gonna get off the island if the balloon won’t work?” Zuko groaned, looking at the destroyed object. Sokka seemed to be more optimistic. “We’ll figure something out! I suspected it might be a one-way ticket,” The fire bender furrowed his brows. “You knew this would happen and you wanted to come anyway?”

“My dad might be here! I had to come and see!” Sokka walked towards the destroyed remains of the balloon. “Uncle always said I never thought things through. But this ... this is just crazy!”

“Hey, I never wanted you to come along in the first place! And for the record, I always think things through! But my plans haven’t exactly worked, so this time, I’m playing it by ear. So there,” He said gathering the balloon and throwing it into the water. ”What are you doing?”

“It doesn’t work anyway,” He shrugged. “And we don’t want anyone to find it,” You sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” You turned towards the prison. “There’s no turning back now,”

By the time the sun came up, the three of you had found a supply room, stacked with reserve guard uniforms.

“I hope these disguises work,” Zuko said, voice muffled by the mask. “We just need to lay low and find my dad as soon as possible,” Sokka said, blue orbs peaking out of the slit. They were just as beautiful as Katara’s. Your head whipped around whe a series of guards ran by, one coming back to look at your team. “Guards! There’s a scuffle in the yard. Come on,” He gestured wildly. Prisoners were gathered in the yard, forming a circle as the guards moved through to the inside.

“I didn’t do anything! I’m going back to my cell,” A tall man called, as a guard whipped fire in his direction. “Stop right there, Chit Sang,” Zuko tried to approach, but your hand shot forward to stop him. “We can’t blow our cover,” You whispered.

“I’ve had it with your unruly behavior!” The guard yelled, getting more riled up by the second. “What did I do?” Chit Sang asked. “He wants to know what he did,” The guard gloated, looking at you. ”Isn’t that cute?" His face grew sour when none of you answered and your tongue felt tied, prompting you to nudge Zuko in the side. “Uh, very cute, sir,”

“Super cute,” Sokka added. The guard walked up to Chit Sang, getting into his face. “You didn’t bow down when I walked by, Chit Sang!” The man looked confused. “What? That’s not a prison rule,”

“Do it!”

“Make me,” The guard growled walking away, but not without whipping fire at the male. Chit Sang blocked it, redirecting the flame to its owner, who broke it with a kick. “Tsk, tsk. Firebending is prohibited. You’re going in the cooler,” He ordered. “You! Help me take him in,”

“Meet back here in an hour,” Sokka whispered to you and Zuko before following the command.

But you didn’t meet in an hour.

In fact, not even you and Zuko managed to stay together, soon being pulled into two different directions due to commands. While you ended up in the weaponry, you had no idea were the others went. “Not your first time doing this, huh?” A guard leaned against the wall next to you, arms crossed. You gave him a brief look, before you resumed sharpening the swords and knifes. “Not really,” He took his helmet off, raising a brow. “How come?” You shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “I’m a non-bender. You need to know your weapons if you want to defend yourself,”

“True,” he inclined his head, taking a knife of his own and starting to prepare it. “I’m impressed. Not many non-benders manage to get employed at the Boiling Rock. Normally they prefer fire benders,” You hummed, grabbing fire the next weapon. “Guess I must be special then,” The guard gave you an amused grin. “You don’t have to wear the mask in here by the way. It’s more of a representative part,” You choose to ignore his comment, instead trying to redirect the conversation. “Hey, can I ask you something? It’s all pretty new to me and I didn’t get to explore everything yet,”

The thought didn’t seem to bother him, featured remaining relaxed. “Sure, rookie. Ask away,” You subtily cleared your throat, attempting not to sound suspicious. “I know the Boiling Rock holds the Fire Nations most dangerous criminals. But what about war prisoners? Do they end up here as well?”

The man shrugged. “If they make it this far... probably,”

“So...” You swallowed. “Any Water Tribe inmates here?” He huffed a short laugh. “You’re pretty interested in those prisoners for a guard,”

“Am I? Shouldn’t I know who I’m watching over?” He shrugged. “I guess so. You’re just very specific about it,” It was time to shut up, you concluded, grabbing a knife. “Well, anyways, thank you for the-” The words god stuck in your throat when you saw Zuko passing by through the window in the door. If you hadn’t been convinced by his amber eyes, then for sure by the time you saw his scar.

“I have to go.” You muttered, subtly slipping the weapon into your pocket. “Hey! Wait up!” The guard yelled rushing after you. You’d just managed to slip through the door, when he grabbed your upper arm. A few seconds later and you would’ve managed to blend in with the others in the lounge. “You can’t just leave. Your work isn’t done yet,”

“Sorry,” you retorted, desperate to reunite with your group. “but I can’t stay.” You rammed your elbow into his ribs, knocking the air out if his lungs. The halls were empty, thanks to the midday meal everyone joined. If you’d manage to lock him into the weaponry you could leave undetected.

You grabbed him, shoving him back into the room and slamming the door shut, before sticking the knife through the handle and using your fire to heat up the metal, sealing it shut. You breathed a relieved sigh as he banged his fists against the door and turned around, colliding with a large chest.

“What do we have here?” The man grinned, locking you in a tight grip that made you squeeze your eyes shut. "I arrive late to the break one time, and there's already trouble," He produced a flame, melting the blockade. The guard you’d locked in opened the door, his face distorted in anger. “She locked me into the weaponry, asked a lot of questions and lied about being a non bender,” He spat, glaring at you.

“Well,” the male behind you said. “What do you want do with this imposter?” The guard snarled.

“Throw her into the cooler!”

tags: @zvkonation @viva-la-millennia @randomness501 @drheinzd @kaylove12 @duh-dobrik @yeetscreetiwannaeat @ ashnkamfeun @hailkyoshi @shortmexicangirl @animexholic @sorrythatspussynal

#zuko x reader #zuko fanfic #zuko imagine #zuko x you

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t4t-lumpygrab · 3 years

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Brothers

Summary: Lemongrab has a brother now but he's not sure what that means having never encountered the concept of siblings before. The fact that he hasn't encountered the concept of a loving family either doesn't help much. ao3 / ff.net / DA

(also incest shippers dni)

Princess Bubblegum was glad to leave the two Lemongrabs to their own weird, terrifying, and probably disturbing devices. Not realising that Lemongrab the first didn’t actually understand what a sibling was having never encountered the concept before.

Lemongrab studied his newly created twin, trying to figure this question out. The other lemon was sat on the floor and scribbling something - Lemongrab always kept stashes of paper and writing utensils just in case he needed to write a letter of complaint to the Princess. She never replied but it felt nice to have an outlet for his aggression and annoyance. His “brother” wasn’t writing a letter of complaint though, or even a letter at all. He dipped his pen in the lemon shaped inkpot, splattering ink on the floor messily, and carried on scrawling something.

“Strange beeehaviour…” Lemongrab thought to himself. The other Lemongrab jumped up and ran over to him, hiding his creation behind his back.

His white uniform had spots of black ink on the sleeves now but he didn’t seem to mind. He was grinning with all his sharp teeth on display and Lemongrab frowned slightly. Him and his brother were identical but each time he looked at him he saw someone else instead of the face the mirror reflected. He saw someone who was happy. He was… unused to seeing his own face smiling.

“Iiii have made yooouuu aaa present!” The younger lemon announced.

“An offering?” he said warily. No one had ever given him a present before. It wasn’t even his birthday, not that anyone celebrated that anyway.

His brother thrust the piece of paper at him and Lemongrab took it suspiciously. On it, scrawled in still wet ink that stained his fingers, was a messy drawing of two figures with loopy arms and legs and long wobbly noses. He’d given them scribbled circles for heads with two nubs and left one figure’s clothes blank, then scribbled in the other one with black ink.

“Do yoouu like it?” His brother asked anxiously.

Lemongrab stared at the picture and slowly tapped the scribbled in person. “Iiiiis thiiis… meee?”

“Mmm it is both of us!” he replied cheerfully and pointed at his picture, “Meee and yoouu together.”

Lemongrab felt a weird emotion from this. He’d built statues of himself for the throne room to make it more like a proper castle but this was different. Even though it was a bad drawing it was better than any statue of himself he could ever make. Someone else made this for him- his brother did.

And he’d drawn him smiling.

“Doo yoouuu like it?” his brother asked anxiously.

“It is acceptable.” he stated. His brother made a happy noise and flapped his hands before going back to his place on the floor.

Lemongrab kept looking at the drawing and thinking about what it could mean. His brother had spent time and effort making this as a gift for him. Slaving away to make him happy. Maybe a brother was like a servant?

He decided to test this theory. “Lemongrab,” he said to his twin, “nnnnngh come shine my shooes.”

“Mmm I don’t feeeel like it,” his brother replied nasally, already drawing another picture. This time of a horse. “Do iiiit yourself.”

Lemongrab gasped. No servant would ever respond to an earl so rudely. It seemed that whatever a brother was, he was going to have to keep looking.

He was still searching for answers when him and his brother were playing one day. He didn’t know a lot of games that could be played as a pair since he’d never had a playmate before. His brother liked playing with the ceramic doll he’d made, and he liked playing with the camel and pegasus as much as he did. Eventually they tried branching out into board games and tag. Once his brother asked if they could play catch since he had so many catcher’s mitts lying around the place, and the answer to that had been a resounding no.

One day they were playing hide and seek and when he found his brother curled up in the stables he realised he’d fallen asleep. He shook him and screamed at him till he woke up.

His brother yawned, causing his jaw to unhinge and display all his fangs, “I’m tired Lemongrab.”

“I am not tired and I am also aaa Lemongrab,” he snapped at him, “Yoouuuu are a, hm, lazy boy.”

He rubbed his eyes and it was obvious that he actually was tired. Lemongrab remembered that his brother was a lot younger than him despite being his identical twin. He must not be very strong yet - he was still a baby really.

“Mmm fine.” Lemongrab said eventually, “yoouu maay… have nap time.”

His brother smiled and stood up woozily. He looked somewhat shaky and too groggy to walk all the way to the castle and up all the winding stairs Lemongrab had installed. “Can you carry me?” he asked.

Lemongrab was appalled. Carry him? CARRY HIM?! “Youuuu want meee to make my royal body a mule and - and carry yooouuu?”

His twin nodded innocently, seemingly not understanding how much this request enraged him. Lemongrab folded his arms and glared at him. “NO!”

“Then Iii will have nap time in three stables…” His twin sat back down on the floor and Lemongrab found this idea just as disgusting as the thought of carrying someone. An earl couldn’t sleep in a stable! Had this lemon gone mad? There was only one way to salvage his brother’s dignity it seemed.

“Mmmmngggh fiiiine… I will carry yoouuu…” he forced out, “But I will not enjoy it. And - And Dungeon. Thirty minutes Dungeon for this travesty.”

His brother smiled and climbed onto his back. Lemongrab had never given anyone else a piggy back ride before so it took a few false starts to hoist his brother up and figure out how to hold him there. Eventually his brother’s gentle weight was spread evenly over his back, and he could feel the warmth of his body - which was the exact same temperature as his own body - through the thin fabric of their matching uniforms.

He muttered under his breath as he carried his brother, who soon fell asleep from the rocking motion. He could feel his deep breathing on his neck and every slight twitch of his sleeping body. His brother seemed to be really enjoying this. He realised their roles had reversed: now he was spending time and effort making his brother happy. Slaving away for him.

Was he supposed to be the servant? He panicked at this thought as Lemongrab’s ideas about the class system were far from enlightened. Was he a subordinate like he was with the princess? Was a brother like a duke or a king? Did brothers outrank earls?

These thoughts rushed around his head as he laid his sibling down on his bed. Like uniforms they had matching beds. His had black covers, the second Lemongrab’s had white covers and was on the opposite side of the royal bedroom. The second he lay down on the soft blanket his brother rolled over and shifted to be more comfortable.

Lemongrab watched him sleep for a few minutes and then shook him awake a second time. His brother groggily opened his eyes and looked at him. They had the same eyes and Lemongrab met his own gaze as he asked; “Am Iiiii your slave?”

His brother looked amused at the question and shook his head. “But-” Lemongrab continued, “Iii did a thiiing for you. And I… liked doing a thing for yoouuu. Am I not your servant? What am I? What are yoouuu? Together what are weeee?” he pleaded.

“We are just two siblings.” his brother replied.

Lemongrab already knew that, but he didn’t know what siblings meant. Where siblings as a class fitted on the hierarchy the Princess had created and excluded him from. How was he supposed to act around his brother if he didn’t know which one of them was meant to be in charge? How was he supposed to make him happy if he didn’t really understand who he was? He hadn’t even been able to make the Princess happy.

“But I have weeeiiird feelings in my lemon heart. Like… like with Mother Princess but these ones don’t hurt!” he tried to explain. His twin sat up to be at eye level with him and smiled.

“I love you too, brother.” He told him, “I am happy that we’re family.” He lay back down and went to sleep as if nothing much had happened. Lemongrab was finally left with an answer; brother meant family, and it meant love. It meant loving and being loved back.

He realised he hadn’t said “I love you” back to his sibling. And his weird love feelings meant he didn’t want to wake his sibling up a third time. That, he imagined, would be unacceptable. But he could tell him when his brother woke up. He could tell him again and again and again.

He finally smiled. Brothers, it seemed, were unlike anything else in the world.

#lemongrab #adventure time #atime #atimers #lemongrab 1 #lemongrab 2 #fanfiction #my writing #adventure time fanfic

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cal-puddies · 4 years

Note

idk if your doing requests but i’ve had this idea stuck in my head for a days and i think it would be such a cute imagine. you and calum are best friends but you both like each other and after the boys finish recording best years they all invite their girlfriends into the studio to listen to it and they tell you to come because they know calum’s contribution for the song was lowkey about you and while your listening he just looks and u and omg i’m in love with this man

“Hey monkey cheeks... hi little handsome!” You greet, walking into Cal’s. Duke comes right up to you and flops on his back for a belly rub.

“Hey jerkface.” Cal greets.

“How’s the album coming?” You ask, picking Duke up so you could keep rubbing his belly.

“It’s good. I think we’re really capturing where we are right now. Luke just wrote something killer, so I’m pumped.”

“Well Luke is a great writer.” You shrug.

“Yeah... you staying tonight?” He asks, gently touching your lower back.

“Eh... undecided but you know I can be persuaded.” You smirk. “Here, back to your pops, baby Duke.” You hoist the dog into Calum’s arms.

“What’s it gonna take to get you to stay?”

“Beg? Hours of oral? Not sure yet.” You shrug.

“You know id do either.” He smirks.

“Which is why I keep coming back to your bed.” You grin. You grab yourself a glass and make a drink real quick. “Have you had dinner?”

“Nope. Was just gonna see if you wanted to eat together.” He admits.

You help yourself to his fridge and decide to cook him something. “When’s the last time you didn’t eat take out?” You ask, moving easily through his space.

“Been a bit, yeah?” He laughs.

“That’s what I thought.”

You do end up staying the night, and Cal shows his appreciation for a home cooked meal with a couple rounds of oral, and a nice and slow session chest to chest. That usually meant he was feeling some type of way about something. You’d lay next to him and he’d be there with you, holding your or your hand, but you could also feel he was far away. His hand slides up and down your back, his lips kissing the top of your head until you turn to face him.

“You ok Monkey Cheeks?” You whisper.

“Yeah, I’m ok jerkface. Glad you came over tonight, Happy you’re staying.” He whispers back, finally meeting your eyes.

“Me too.” You press your lips to his chest, and he just holds you as you fall asleep.

He takes a deep breath while he watches you sleep, letting your scent fill his nose, your presence just surround him. He can’t shake the feeling that you belong there, but he knows he can’t ask you to be there right now. He can’t be there for you the way he wants to be.

And that starts the internal argument, Luke and Michael have figured it out, and Ash is working on it. Why couldn’t he do it?

But he could, he had. He just didn’t want that for you, didn’t want you sitting alone at dinner tables, and explaining to your family that he couldn’t be there because he was on tour, didnt want you ordering drinks alone at a bar while he was out across the world.

He takes you out with Ash for coffee and breakfast in the morning, he low key pays, but doesn’t touch you in any way, and you were used to it. This is what being with Cal meant, and you accepted it.

You miss him when it’s weeks between seeing him because schedules don’t line up, and you’d never want him to feel bad so you don’t tell him you wait for him. When he’s on tour he asks who you’re dating, and you’ll make up a date or two, but ultimately no one lasts long.

And he doesn’t understand that, because he thinks you’re perfect.

You’re sprawled on your couch one afternoon when Ash sends you a text.

- we’re previewing a couple versions of some songs tonight, why don’t you come by?

You weigh your options, you’d love to see all the guys but it’s basically a guarantee that you won’t get any attention from Cal. You’d like to see him anyway, maybe you could get him to go for a drink after. Luke and Sierra would probably go.

You decide you have to go when Sierra and Crystal both text and to ask you to come and Luke calls.

So you do a little make up, put on the good jeans, and throw on a t shirt you tie up.

You let yourself into the studio Ash directed you to.

“You came!” Luke says in his larger than life way while squeezing you and picking you up. You get hugs from the girls, Ash and Michael, and Cal hugs you so it’s not horribly awkward.

Luke and Ash talk animatedly about the songs they play for your, Wildflower, Best Years, and Not In The Same Way. And there were already a couple versions of each.

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you for Wildflower, but you feel Cal’s on you during Best Years, while you watch Luke’s face as he watches Sierra.

You glance at Cal out of the corner of your eye, and you don’t recognize the look on his face, but you don’t dwell on it.

“You all never cease to amaze me.” You admit, to Luke while everyone’s mingling.

“Thank you!” Luke grins, “think Sierra and I might be going for drinks, you should come, I’m gonna ask Cal too. Michael already said no and Ash needs to go do yoga, I think he said.” He explains.

“I’d like that. I’d just be going home to be on my couch.” You chuckle.

“No cant have that, come out for a couple drinks.”

Sierra comes over, “Cal’s in!” She stands on her toes and kisses Luke’s cheek and then she turns toward you, “what about you? Drinks? Say yes! Please!” She asks, before giving you a chance.

“Yeah, I just told Luke I’d go.” You chuckle.

“Ok! Good! I’m gonna ride with Cal, we’ll see you guys there.” She kisses Luke and turns and he grabs her hand. “So he can’t change his mind.”

“Fair... you wanna follow me?” He looks at you.

“Sure.” You laugh.

Luke gets you guys in VIP, and he gets his tequila on the rocks and lets you order what you want before you guys grab a table, waiting for Sierra and Cal to show up.

Luke talks to you about how work is going for you, and catching up. You’ve been around awhile, hanging out with Cal, a couple years now. But he knows it’s more than that, he knows the way Cal’s face lights up when you come around, or he gets a text from you. He loves getting to FaceTime you. And Luke knows it’s deeper than that. All of them have walked in on you and Cal having a moment or sharing a kiss, the long hugs goodbye. Or even just noticing the little touches or the grins when you lock eyes across the room. And he wants more dirt about it without outright asking you.

But Cal and Sierra show up and Sierra tells him to sit next to you.

“Hey,” he grins at you, face softening.

You’re there for about an hour and Cal keeps touching your thigh or brushing your hands together under the table, and then Sierra is asking for you to come with her.

“Good, girls are gone. Let’s cut the shit.” Luke says, leaning closer to Cal.

Cal finds it abrupt and he’s confused. “Excuse me, brov?” He asks.

“What are you doing with her? Are you gonna date her or just keep dragging her along? She’s so good for you Cal, we all see it. And she makes you so happy. And you deserve that. But she doesn’t deserve this.”

“We’re friends.” Cal shrugs.

“Nah, mate. No one believes that. You don’t even believe that you’re just friends. I don’t know what’s holding you back from her. You’re lying to yourself. You don’t think every one of us saw the way you were looking at her tonight? Even if we all didn’t already know, we would now.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do Luke! She deserves better than what I can give her right now, with our schedule!”

“You’ll figure it out. It might be tough but you’d do it to keep her happy... if she makes you this happy... I saw your face when you saw her here... you can’t string her along forever. Someone else is gonna give her everything you want to give her.”

Luke shuts up, because you and Sierra are coming back, and he doesn’t want you to hear this.

After another drink you look at your phone and laugh, “it’s so late. How does this always happen with you!” You accuse the table.

“Do you need to go? I’ll get an Uber with you.” Cal offers.

“Ummm...” you look at him and glance at Luke and Sierra giving you intense stares. “Yeah. I mean I can stay too, just didn’t realize it was already this late.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m ready to go.” Cal says, leaning into you.

“Yeah.. were gonna go too. You two stay safe. We’ll swing by tomorrow and bring you to get your cars.” Luke says. You grab your phone and your jacket and the four of you make your way outside.

“You coming to mine?” Cal asks, quietly, though he doesn’t know why because obviously all of his friends know about you. He pulls out his phone to get the Uber.

“Uh, no I think I just wanna go home, sleep in my own bed.” You shrug.

“Ok.” He nods. You all wait together til the cars come, hugs are shared. Cal calls Luke big fella when he wishes him goodnight and Sierra and Luke call him sweet boy. And you melt a little at that exchange. You love the way Cal is with his friends. You ride quietly to your place, only about a mile from Calum’s. He walks you to your door to make sure you make it, and he shoots you a goodnight text, which included a picture of him and Duke in bed.

And Cal can’t sleep. His mind is just going over and over what Luke said. And how you look at him, and you always come, and are always there.

And fuck, Luke’s right. You could have anyone, and he doesn’t want to chance that you’ll find that anyone while he’s gone on tour. You’d figure it out. This only doesn’t work if you don’t want him too. And he really doesn’t want to get hurt that way.

- if you aren’t already with her, go to her. Luke told me he talked to you. Sierra texts him.

He checks the time, it’s almost 3 am. You’re bound to be asleep. But he figures he’ll try anyway.

-awake? He asks.

- just barely.

-I’m coming over.

He almost waits for a response but he’s already climbing into the Uber when he gets a thumbs up from you. He lets himself in with the key he has and makes his way to your room.

“We gotta talk.” He says, slipping in your bed after taking his sweats off.

“It’s 3 am, do we really gotta talk now?” You chuckle. You lay face to face with him, because he has that serious tone.

“Yeah... I like you, a lot, probably more than like, but I don’t want to scare you, and I’m so tired of avoiding that topic just because I’m gone. It wears on me. When we were listening to Best Years earlier I just felt so strongly about that message toward you. And I know we’re comfortable doing this, but I don’t wanna hear about you with other guys and I’m happy when it’s us... and the guys know, they see through my shit. And my ‘just friends’...”

“Calum... shut up for a second.” You interrupt. You watch as he closes his mouth. You lean in and kiss him briefly on the lips. “We’ll try, I want to too. But we need to talk about it after I’ve slept, please.”

“Yeah... absolutely.” He agrees, pulling you back for another kiss.

#calum hood #requested #its kinda angsty #anon i loved this #thank you #cass #angst #but cal #right in the feels #5sos #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings

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writingblock101 · 4 years

Text

Roof Tops (Duke Thomas x Reader)

Request for Anon: “If we get caught, you can’t speak English, and I’m deaf!” with Duke

Based off actually rooftops I’ve gone on. Trespass carefully kiddos.

Word count: 1,600

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013 @incrediblysadstudent (hello discord friend, welcome to my account)

“Come on, babe,” Duke begs. “It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t know, Duke…” You trail off. “What if we get caught?”

“If we get caught, you can’t speak English and I’m deaf,” Duke insists, very sold on his foolproof plan.

You can’t help but chuckle at his plan.

“What if we get caught by someone more dangerous than the cops?” You propose.

“Good thing you’ll have Signal there to protect you,” He grins, puffing his chest. “I’ve done this a lot before, I know all the good spots.”

You frown again, skimming through all the possibilities. Roofing sounds really cool and you would love to see Gotham at night from some rooftops, but you’re afraid of getting caught. It would constitute as trespassing and your parents would kill you if you got arrested.

“Please,” He begs, looking eager. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

You sigh, barely able to say no to his excitement.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go roofing.”

“Yes!” Duke cheers, giving you a quick kiss. “Trust me, you’re going to love it. We’ll leave at 11. Wear something dark.”

“11?” You question, looking down at your phone. “It’s not even 6 o’clock yet!”

“We’ve gotta wait until everything closes,” Duke points out. “Also, I may or may not be luring you into a dinner at the Manor,” He ends with a hopeful grin.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. While you like your boyfriend’s dysfunctional family, sometimes dinners get a little out of hand.

“Come on, I need someone to back me up in mediating arguments between Damian and Tim,” Duke pouts. “I don’t have Dick or Cass there to help and Jason just adds fuel to the fire.”

“Alright, fine,” You chuckle. “Is Bruce going to care about us trespassing?”

Duke snorts.

“That would be very hypocritical of him, but no. He’ll have much more pressing matters to deal with than my hobbies than don’t include actively picking fights with criminals.”

You chuckle and kiss Duke’s cheek.

“Look at you, the new golden child.”

“No!” He protests. “Do not curse me with that! I do not need this family’s daddy issues!”

You toss your head back, laughing.

“Oh, come on, they’re not that bad.”

“Jason came back from the dead and started killing criminals to spite Bruce. Are you serious?”

“Well, at least that means you’re probably not going to do anything worse.”

“Worse?” Duke laughs sputteringly. “What do you think I’m going to do?!”

You grin, leaning back against his chest.

“Dunno, babe. You’re the genius. I’m sure you’ll figure out something to wow me.”

“Or just go on to become the lamest super villain ever,” Duke rolls his eyes. “How did I end up here? My tragic backstory? No, I was challenged into one uping my brother’s rebellion.”

“Well, you’re not going to sell shit with that attitude!” You protest.

Duke laughs wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re right, how could I be so pessimistic?” He remarks dryly then stands up, pulling you to your feet. “Come on, let’s go see what Alfred is making.”

. . .

“This feels so sketchy,” You admit, sitting in Duke’s car now dressed in all black.

He chuckles, pulling around the back of an empty shopping center.

“This is honestly kind of how I feel when I go on patrol,” He admits. “Just chilling on a rooftop, waiting for trouble to happen.”

Duke parks next to a dumpster then you both climb out of the car, you eyeing the tall building.

“Are you sure we won’t be seen?” You ask hesitantly.

“There aren’t any security cameras back here,” Duke reassures you. “Also, the shopping center has been closed for two hours now, they leave the main ladder to the roof unlocked, and the restaurant across the street is closed for renovations,” He walks over to where the ladder is guarded by a cage, easily unlatches it, and swings it open. “You coming?”

You grin, and start climbing up the ladder, Duke following close behind. Once reaching the top, you swing your leg over the ledge, looking out across the various air conditioning units.

“Come on,” Duke takes your hand. “We’ve got a little more climbing to do.”

He leads you over to where another building starts and gives you a boost up. He easily pulls himself over the ledge then takes you to a steeply slanted concrete wall.

“This is where the sign is,” Duke explains. “I’ve found if you run up the wall and grab the ledge, you can pull yourself up.”

He demonstrates, making it look way too easy.

“You got this!” He cheers from his spot on top of the sign.

You take a breath, wiping your hands on your pants then scramble up the wall, managing to catch the ledge. Using your feet to push you up, you pull yourself up on top of the sigh and sit next to Duke, your feet dangling off the edge of the building.

There’s something peaceful about looking into the empty parking lot at night. It’s lightly misting out, giving everything a slight haze. You admire the city lights and enjoy the peace of the nighttime. Duke pulls an arm over your shoulder as you both sit quietly.

“You know,” You say after a while. “From up here, you’d never think this city was crazy enough to need a small army of vigilantes to keep it functioning.”

Duke laughs then stands up, holding his hand out to you.

“I’ve got one more spot I want to take you.”

He guides you back down to the car and drives to another area you haven’t been before.

“Electric Cowboy?” You read off an old sign.

“It was a club,” Duke explains. “It closed a while ago and now it’s abandoned. I want to try to get on the roof.”

“Is it open?” You ask, noticing the padlocked front doors.

“It is around back,” Duke slowly drives behind the old building, pointing to multiple open doors.

“Then doesn’t that mean someone has been in there?” You raise an eyebrow. “Someone might be living in there.”

“I’ve walked around inside a little bit. No one is living there, but it looks like some people got drunk and threw around some bar stools and stuff,” Duke explains, unclipping his seat belt. “Don’t worry,” He tells you. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Even though it sounds a little sketchy, you can’t help but be excited as the prospect of what could be inside the abandoned building.

“Alright,” You agree, hopping out of the car.

You and Duke turn on the flashlights on your phones and slowly approach an iron staircase. You glance in a nearby trashcan, noticing fast-food wrappers, but they seem to have been there for a few days, hopefully, a promising sign that nobody has taken shelter in the abandoned club. The staircase seems mostly steady, just a bit rusted.

Duke pushes the door open more with his foot and shines his flashlight inside.

“Why do I feel like the first person that dies in a horror movie?” You ask.

Duke shoots a grin over his shoulder.

“We’re going to be fine. Besides, I have more than enough experience to survive a horror movie.”

He walks inside, you following slowly behind him, shining your flashlight into every possible nook and cranny. Inside, the carpeted floors are covered in a thick layer of dust. All the tables, chairs, and bar stools are gone, perhaps already sold. The club clearly followed the western theme with a large mirror on one side, salon-style doors, and curved frames on the walls.

It’s strange to see a club completely empty, but you will admit, it’s pretty cool.

“I think I see an office over there,” Duke nudges your shoulder.

You follow Duke to the side room. Duke is right-- it looks like it may have once been an office with an old desk settled in the middle of the room. There’s a bar stool deeply embedded in the sheet rock.

“I’m guessing this is what you meant by people throwing stuff around?” You ask, pointing at the bar stool.

“Yeah,” Duke nods. “There’s another door over here, but it’s closed.”

You two slowly approach the door and frown at the lack of a doorknob. Duke shines his light through the hole where the doorknob is and peers into the room.

“It looks empty,” He shrugs then carefully pushes the door open, insuring you’re positioned behind him in case someone is waiting on the other side.

The door opens to a long, dark hallway, but on the right, is another open door leading to a small porch. You step onto the porch with Duke then look on the side of the building to spot a ladder than goes up to the roof.

“Jackpot,” He grins at you then gestures for you to start climbing.

Once you reach the top, Duke is quick to join you. He grins, taking your hand, and you two walk to where the sign is on the building, sitting on the ledge and dangling your feet off the side. Across the street, there is a bar where you can see groups of stumbling patrons being piled into cars with much more sober friends.

The club is closer to the city than the shopping center is so you can see more of the Gotham skyline. Bright boxes of light pouring out from business buildings and apartment buildings shine brightly against the dark sky. Ribbons of colors from building decorations and billboards decorate the black skyline and a steady flow of cars zip by in the distance on high ways and interstates.

“Okay,” You admit, resting your head on Duke’s shoulder. “This is pretty cool.”

Duke kisses the top of your head then pulls an arm around your shoulder.

“Told you that you would like it.”

Yes, Electric Cowboy was a real place. No, I never went in it when it was open, only when it was abandon.

I want to replace my profile picture and background on this account. Anyone have any suggestions?

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ff15trashgoldenslumbers · 4 years

Text

Uhhh Second Read

I have no idea what number I’m on anymore...

~~~~~

Noctis

So many parties! If Noctis didn’t know he’d be caught by Ignis and that it would make his father upset to not witness, he would have eloped with you. But no he had to do this by royal protocol, and royal protocol meant weeks of engagement parties, and fancy dinners.

Still, he had to admit if he had to go through it with anyone he was so happy it was you. You standing so proudly by his side, showing off all the Princess training that Ignis and your tutors put you through. It also meant that he got to see you in all those pretty dresses. He was so busy admiring you that he almost missed his cue to address the Duke, Duchess and their daughter, who had quite the crush on the Prince.

“A pleasure!” The Duchess cooed, before nudging her daughter who was staring so at Noctis. The Duchess’s eyes turned to you standing beside Noctis, Ignis flanking the two of you, hissing between her and her daughter, as Noctis was greeting the Duke.

‘My gods, you’d think the commoner would even attempt to try to impress royalty.’

The Duchess daughter let out a snicker in their native language, ‘I know Mummy, She looks ridiculous.’

Noctis wasn’t certain what she had muttered, but heard the offending intake of air from Ignis behind him, watching his advisor step forward. Only to stop as you rose your hand halting Ignis with a smile.

‘My Duchess, at least one of us knows the meaning of modesty.’ You replied to the shocked face of the Duchess and Princess in their native tongue, offering them your hand as was protocol. ‘After all, why would I need to impress anyone other than my husband. Unlike some persons.’

The Duke stammered, as he pressed a kiss to your hand and ushered his family off the platform.

Noctis stared in confusion, “What was that?”

You smiled toward the Prince hearing Ignis chuckle softly, “Oh nothing seems my dress is the talk of the night.”

~~~~~

Prompto

This was fun!

You couldn’t help the large stupid smile on your face as you watched these four brave men running around after the Cuddle of Chocobos that managed to be playing keep-away with Prompto’s camera.

How they even got the camera was in itself a mystery. Yet none of the guys would ever get close enough to the Chocobo to even have a chance of getting the strap. Lucky the camera was in its shockproof case when it was taken so there was no worry about it accidentally shattering.

“Y/N, aren’t you going to help?” Prompto called.

You put on a bright over the top smile to your boyfriend, “What’s in it for me?”

Prompto stopped chasing the Chocobo along with the others as they all stared at you. Only to hear you cackling as you moved towards the battlefield, asking everyone to politely stand behind you.

“I get dinner choice tonight and for the next two hotel stops.” You stated over your shoulders, before turning back to the Chocobo. Waiting for one to run by as you reached out without a second thought and managed to climb on without a harness to guide you.

Leaping from Chocobo to Chocobo before managing to get to the one holding the camera, reaching forward taking a hold of the lanyard, before prying its mouth open to get your prize. Manging to flip off its back landing before the guys.

“And here you are.” You smiled.

“Y/N, where are Eos did you learn that?” Ignis inquired.

You gave that same over the top smile, “You guys don’t know everything about me.” Only for your eyes to turn to Prompto as you heard him mutter. “Nothing’s broken is it, Sweetie?”

“Holy shit, my girlfriend’s a superhero.”

~~~~~

Gladiolus

You would never forget the first time you were invited to the annual Amicita camping trip. Having been Gladiolus' girlfriend, and Clarus seeing just how head over heels you were for each other, the man invited you along.

Now to say that the elder Amicita didn’t like you was wrong, he liked you cause you would be on his son's case when he wasn’t, and you brought out the best in Gladiolus. The thing being, you were very “Girly”. Not that he had an issue with that.

At any party that could be thrown into, he knew that you had it in the bag.

It was just that they would be camping in tents in nature for the next few days, and you were known for your fashion-forward dresses, and your long nails and always styled hair. You just didn’t scream nature, yet Gladiolus was so insistent on you coming along, and Iris was finally happy to have some girl time.

“You got it, babe?” Gladiolus called, as you followed them up the cliffs where you all would be camping for the evening.

“Yep.” You smiled back with a slight pant.

“Gladiolus carry Y/Ns, backpack for her.” Clarus called, “I raised you better than that.”

“Oh it’s fine Mr. Amicitia, I just somehow got a rock in my shoe.” You smiled, sitting down on the boulder to remove said rock.

“Have you been camping before Big Sis?” Iris asked as you relaced your boots.

“It’s been a while, I had to replace a lot of gear.” You smiled, before turning to the others. “Are we ready?”

Gladiolus pointed beyond the cliff peak, “We’re heading over there and will set up camp on the other side of the pasture.”

“Ready whenever you are.”

Clarus looked to his son, couldn’t Gladiolus see that you were struggling. Maybe they should stop prior to the pasture so that you didn’t wear yourself out. It would be the first year that the Amicitia’s didn’t come out in their spot, but if it meant it was easier on you, they would have to deal with the sacrifice this time.

So while making their way down, Clarus turned toward the rest of his party announcing they would be camping there for the evening.

“Dad, we still have plenty of light, we can make it to the camping spot in no time,” Gladiolus replied.

Clarus stared at his son, before turning a glancing toward you, “We don’t want to push ourselves.”

“It’s not that big, an hour tops, right?” You smiled standing between Gladiolus and Iris.

Clarus tried to argue but figured there would be no harm in turning around.

So when an Alphatusk suddenly attacked midway through the field, he was quick to tell you to move back with Iris, only to instead find you grabbing something from your bag and rushing pass Gladiolus, your left hand coming up only to find blade claws on your hands, and the way you moved showed that you had plenty of practice in them.

No more than 10 minutes later, did you all stand on the defeated enemy, as you removed your claws attaching them back to your bag. “Everyone okay, I have some first aid in my...”

You were stopped in your tracks as Clarus hugged you tightly, “Mr. Amicitia?”

“I apologize for being so judgemental.”

You were confused for a moment only to look over his shoulder to his children who were struggling to hold back their laughter. “Did you two not tell him that I was trained!?”

~~~~~

Ignis

“Your Majesty please.” Ignis groaned as Noctis picked apart his meal for the evening. All the vegetables being pushed over to either his or your plates.

“Ignis, it's fine.” You cooed to your boyfriend, stroking his arm. “Noctis is a grown man and should be allowed to make his own choices.”

Ignis stared at you in confusion, only to find you give him a warm smile before starting on your own meal.

“See, Specs, at least Y/N loves me,” Noctis replied rather smugly.

“Noctis, Ignis loves you more than anything.” You giggled.

“Please don’t encourage him, Love.” Ignis sighed.

As dinner was cleared from the table, you leaned over picking up Noctis’s glass. “Noct did you enjoy your smoothie. I can make more if you want.”

“Really? Thanks, Y/N.” Noctis cheered.

“I’ll get you one too, Prompto.” You smiled moving into the kitchen where Ignis was washing dishes.

Ignis glanced as you began setting up the blender, watching as you placed in a few fruits, followed by a ton of vegetables and blending it until it appeared a pink color, topping it with a few more strawberries.

“Love, have you been...”

“Putting enough vegetables in his smoothies for the last two weeks to take down a King Behemoth? Yes, yes I have.” You smiled.

Ignis could only chuckle as you moved back out to the living room to give the two younger boys their smoothies. He knew that he loved you for a reason.

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platypanthewriter · 4 years

Text

The Dragon’s Prince

Chapter One: Humans Aren't Furniture

Steve knew he was in the right spot when the first villager to see him--a man with a huge bruise on his forehead--yelped and ran, clutching at what looked to be a solid-gold chamberpot.

“I heard there’s a dragon here,” Steve called out, standing in his stirrups. His horse sighed. “I don’t want any trouble--I definitely don’t want your chamberpots--”

“Who the hell are you?” A young woman poked her face over the fence near his elbow. “What’s that sword for, then?”

It was both convenient and annoying, Steve thought, to be travelling without his entourage and ceremonial armor. “This sword wouldn’t hurt him.” He grabbed the hilt and pulled a few inches of blade to show plain steel, not the slick, greenish sheen of an anti-magic enchantment.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, squinting.

“His privateer license expired, is all--” Steve shrugged.

“Go away! You’re here because he ate our sheep!” a kid yelled, and Steve sat back down in the saddle, brushing snow off his arms.

“Is that what happened?”

“He just strolled into town and asked whose sheep he’d eaten,” said another villager, hanging out a window. “Been up on north field. Hucked treasure at everyone.” More of them were venturing forth, one of them holding a golden harp.

“Broke my front tooth,” said the kid, yanking her lip back to show a gap, “--he was naked.” Steve stared between his horse’s ears, and the kid smacked his boot. “You gonna take all the stuff he gave us? It was too much, but he gave it to us.”

“No,” Steve grimaced at the guy hiding in plain sight “behind” a tiny shrub, “--no, keep your...chamberpots, I understand a trade caravan will be coming through, if you want to sell some…” he trailed off as a villager waved and pointed him to a ceramic vase larger than she was. “Uh, some of his...gifts. They usually keep track of where he’s been.” A cheer went up around him, and he sighed. Definitely the right place, he thought. Now I just have to convince him to listen to me. And risk his life. If anything, he felt more tired, and he rolled his shoulders, hiding his wince as it strained the bandages under his jacket. While I’m doing those two impossible tasks, maybe I can convince him to put on pants.

After some negotiation--and a stern refusal to accept harps or encyclopedias in payment--Steve stood at the base of a fall of boulders, and began to climb. He started scrambling faster as the sun set, and the boulders shifted, and caught his boot. He froze, taking a shaky breath, and clung to the rock face, remembering the expression on General Hopper’s face after Steve received his orders.

“Why not a dragon that responds to summons,” Hopper had gritted out.

“We need a fire dragon,” Steve had echoed his father’s words in his own voice, and tried to sound certain. “He--he doesn’t kill anyone outside his license. I just--I don’t know what I can offer him. He could be in danger from them too, and they didn’t give me any--I can’t go to a dragon, even that dragon, and say “Please fight our battles, we’ll definitely figure out something to pay you with later--”

“There was that bandit.” Hopper had shaken his head, and stomped away.

Steve had imagined himself seared black, and speared on a tree like a butcherbird’s breakfast, and wondered semi-hysterically which had happened first.

“E-except that,” he’d agreed. “I’m--I’m sure there was some--”

“He is a dragon,” Hopper muttered.

Steve yanked on his leg, yelling at the flash of pain, and the boulders shifted again, sending an avalanche of rocks and dirt down slamming into his shoulders, and the back of his head.

When he awoke, he was warm, and clean, and everything was bright through his eyelids. “...oh shit,” he whispered, curling tighter, “--I’m dead, and now everyone else will be dead--”

“Whoa there,” breathed a voice next to his ear, “--pretty boy.”

Steve stilled, opening his eyes on gold, and golden scales, because the voice of a dragon was unmistakable. It rumbled all around him and blew across the skin of his back like bellows over hot coals. He swallowed, closing his eyes again. Of course I’m naked.

“I know, touching me feels like heaven,” the dragon continued, “--but I have to ask. What drives a prince...to climb a landslide...to knock on my door?”

Steve tried to stand, and found his right foot was a sea of pain. His vision went starry.

“Whoa, whoa,” the rumble said, and smooth scales curled around him. Steve allowed himself to be propped up, then lifted, grabbing at the talons around his butt and ribs, and blinked into the face of the gold dragon. He’s young, he thought distractedly, his head’s barely the size of a pony.

“My--I’ve been sent--”

“Are you a present?” asked the dragon, ignoring him. “I took your giftwrap off, it was a bit--” it waved a claw, “--torn, after I dug you out. I think you’d look great on this rock here,” it held him up to a slanted boulder the size of Steve’s bed, and tugged some furs from a pile to toss over it. “I think your ass would really bring the room together.”

“My--what,” Steve tried to turn, and the dragon leaned its head within view, teeth bared in what Steve suspected was an annoying dragon grin. “My--I am not--I am his Royal Highness Prince Steven of Hawkins, Duke of Harringtown and Knight of the Realm, and I have been--”

The dragon sniffed him, and he resisted jerking away, swallowing. “Why send you out without your guard? You were wounded before you came here,” it informed him, and he stared back into enormous, bluey-gold eyes.

“I know that.” Steve gritted his teeth.

The dragon’s grin widened. “Entirely-gold hoards are out this year. I think a prince’s smooth skin would really make it pop.”

“I thought you didn’t eat people.”

The dragon blinked, then huffed. “I’m just saying you’d look nice lounging--”

“I need your help,” Steve hissed.

The dragon momentarily stopped trying to angle him different ways in the light. “What are you offering?” he asked, the flames flickering in his throat.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you want. You must have enough money,” he waved at the piles of treasure, “--this isn’t even your main horde. And you aren’t paying taxes, like you agreed to do when you applied for your privateer license--”

“...you.” The dragon went still, running a knuckle down Steve’s face, and then met his eyes again and laughed. “As--as decor, naturally--”

“In a cave where you put me?” Steve asked, to clarify. It was better than being roasted, he figured, or dropped onto a spike. “I’ll need to ask you to defer my payment until--”

“One night, with you,” the dragon interrupted, turning its face away. “I mean, if you can’t tear yourself away after--”

“One night?” Steve squinted at him, and then grabbed for the dragon’s talons again, kicking for balance as he was suddenly lowered to the floor of the cave. The mountainous gold coils and wings folded and curled inward, packing themselves impossibly tiny until they resolved into a human-ish shape covered in shining scales, and sporting dragon horns.

He crouched, frowning at Steve’s swollen foot, then smirked up. “One night...with me.”

“Oh!” Steve almost clapped in realization, but caught himself, blushing, as the dragon-man leaned his face into his scaly hand and cackled. “Just…” he trailed off, rephrasing his objections, until he remembered the amount of people at risk, and the whole reason he was there. Maybe he enjoys sex where the human survives, he told himself, and held out his hand.

The dragon took it in both of his, edging much too close for a handshake, and held it, grinning, as though he was delighted Steve had offered it, and didn’t intend to give it back.

He leaned closer, his clawed thumb rubbing gently at the skin between Steve’s knuckles, and licked his lips, his gaze dropping to Steve’s mouth, and Steve barely had time for a startled inhale before he had warm lips pressed to his. Up close, the dragon looked a bit like a very expensive costume, Steve thought, like someone at a masquerade ball, when he would wonder whether the person pressing him into the wall knew who he was kissing. He wondered, now, whether the dragon had ever attended.

The gold was digging into his butt, and his foot throbbed, but the dragon’s warm bulk was surprisingly cozy. He had unreasonably long lashes, and soft lips, and Steve let himself relax into the kiss, licking curiously into a dragon’s mouth. He found it nearly steaming hot, and thankfully clean of singed bandit. The pile of treasure he was lying on shifted.

He winced as something jabbed into his side, and the dragon reached over--still licking gently into Steve’s mouth--and bent the metal arm of it back with a grating creak. The reminder that a dragon could have crushed his skull with one hand, and instead was running soft fingertips along his jaw--and shifting scaly knees so as not to jostle his sore foot--made him feel a bit like jelly inside, and he laughed into the kisses, panting. He pushed himself up on his elbows, into the kiss.

The dragon hummed, grinning against his mouth, and dropped alongside him. His hands were pleasantly hot, running up and down Steve’s ribs. “You should see what I’ve got, before you agree to anything.”

“What?” Steve murmured back, tossing a leg over the dragon’s waist.

“We can--we can make sure this is fine--after I’ve saved your humans.”

“What--what do I call you,” Steve whispered into the kisses, and the dragon pulled back to grin at him, then leaned in for another kiss, and another.

“You don’t--you don’t know my name?” He kissed Steve’s lips again. The skin was starting to feel tender.

“You’re designated by color, ability, and area,” Steve rambled, accepting kisses when he paused. “--it’s--mm. It’s a mess--the way you keep flying around--I thought your name must be some--some Dragonish growly noise that--that they didn’t know how to spell, which, rude--” he panted into another kiss, losing his train of thought.

“...Billy,” he snickered into Steve’s ear. “You always let strangers do this?”

Steve remembered with a jolt that he’d been sent to bring a dragon back, whether it required his oath or his life, and he shook his head. “It’s dangerous, what I--what I need from--”

Billy bit, oh-so-gently, up the side of Steve’s neck, and he groaned, losing track of his words as his eyes fluttered shut. “You finally came without your guards.”

“Were you waiting to get me alone?” Steve snorted. “If you weren’t giving pornographic statues to children, you wouldn’t rile everyone up so much--”

Billy snickered. “It was heavy! I didn’t wanna carry that thing! Fun though it was.”

“She was eleven--”

“Oh, she kept cows, she’d seen worse. You probably bought it from her.”

“We couldn’t very well--”

“So she’s better off, now. Several times the price of a couple cows.” Billy’s teeth shone sharp in his grin, and he leaned in to run his knuckles up Steve’s side. “I’ve got some treasures I’ve been saving for you…actually, here--” he leaned off the edge of the rock, then held up a vial of sparkling silvery fluid.

“It’s--it’s just my ankle,” Steve stared at it. “We can stop by a healer on the way back, there’s no need for--”

“You’re hurt,” Billy uncorked it with his teeth, “--that’s what it’s for. If I’m not paying attention, and you get hurt again, it’ll use it up later, maybe. Maybe your tears will start healing the sick.”

“How would I even find out that was happening,” Steve asked, frowning at the vial. “You should sell that stuff to some kingdom with a dying queen, or something.”

“Or maybe,” Billy whispered, “--you’ll live as long as a dragon. Try for that one.”

“How am I supposed to try for something--”

Billy grinned, sticking it in Steve’s mouth, and Steve drank it, staring at him over a potion worth as much as...a prince’s ransom, he wondered. A king’s castle?

“Why didn’t you drink it yourself?” he asked, as Billy frowned at, tapped it, and tipped the last drop onto Steve’s extended tongue. “You could--”

“I’m a dragon,” Billy licked his lips, watching Steve’s mouth, “--you think I’m going to get hurt? You’re fragile. If something happens--”

“Why do you care about me?” Steve asked, lowering his eyes to flex his suddenly-painless foot. He reached down to tug at the loosened bandages. They were stuck together with blood. “I mean--”

“You--you’re the prince,” the dragon laughed, tossing the empty vial against the far wall, and Steve nodded, biting his lips.

“Right.”

“No, I mean--” Billy crouched in front of him, cocking his head to catch Steve’s eye, “--everyone knows what you’re like. We know what you do, because you’re the prince. You’re on coins--”

“I’m valuable.” Steve nodded, keeping his shoulders relaxed, and giving his best public ‘welcome’ smile.

“No,” Billy pushed him back, climbing over him again, and kissed his nose, “--no, I mean--I know you, I read every copy of the Imperial Gazette--”

Steve snorted, bursting into cackles of laughter. “You think you know me through that?!”

“...no,” Billy muttered, his gold scales pinkening.

“What’s my favorite color?” Steve grinned up at him, and Billy leaned in for another kiss.

“Gold,” he whispered. “The best color.”

“...I do like yellow a lot,” Steve whispered into the kiss, and Billy squeezed him.

“I know enough about you,” he mouthed along Steve’s ear, “--to know I want to know everything about you.”

Steve’s heart pounded, and he took a shaky breath, then cleared his throat. “...what kind of name for a dragon is ‘Billy’,” he mumbled, his head muzzy with warm hands and bright smiles. “Shouldn’t you be. The Slayer. Something about fire. Smog.”

“Rude,” the dragon whispered against his mouth. “Billy the Slayer?”

One more question, Steve thought, before he burns them all away, kissing me. “Wha--Billy.” he cleared his throat, leaning into the hand on his head. “Wait. Why did you burn that man?”

Billy punched his shoulder. “You saw his crimes!”

“I didn’t,” Steve raised his eyebrows, tugging a fur over himself, and lying back against the boulder with a sigh, “--because you didn’t send in your paperwork, like usual--my lungs are full of bandit flesh now--you couldn’t just break his legs and drop him at a guard station--”

“I--I definitely sent--” he paused, thinking. “I didn’t.” The dragon scrambled away, sliding down the mound of treasure in his tiny human form. “Ah, here they are--”

“How do you fill them out?” Steve asked. “Do you use your claws? With your eyes shut? Because that would explain--”

The cavern brightened with a poof of flame. “I use a quill--look--” he clambered back up the shifting mounds of treasure, waving a handful of papers, “--see, look, he stuck his cock in places it wasn’t wanted, so I stuck a tree through it. And set him on fire.”

Steve grimaced, finally relaxing. “Oh. Well. That’s fair.”

“And then I threw his golden chamberpot at the first person I--”

“Who has a golden chamberpot,” Steve started snickering, and couldn’t stop, curled against his warm dragon. Eventually the days travelling wounded caught up to him, and he mumbled his replies, then snored, with the vague impression of gentle claws combing through his hair.

@neonlaynes @tracy7307

#harringrove #harringrove for Australia #stranger things #platypan #platypan fic #art by neonlaynes #Lookit Steve's squishy face!!#Squish his face Billy!#Steve needs a break #Billy needs a prince #All the best interior design guides advise one

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kickingitwithkirk · 4 years

Text

Beyond Seduction: pt III

Summary: Isobella Tennant is a woman wanting her independence but society dictates she must conform to their ways. Sam Winchester is the most sought after artist in London and one of its most notorious rakes. He also has a secret he has kept hidden for years. They come together with their own agendas and find something more than either expected.

Pairing: Artist!Sam Winchester x Isobella Tennant

Word Count: 2195

Warnings: Cursing, sexual innuendo, self degradation

A/N: Sam’s finding it harder to keep his thoughts and hands to himself. More slow burn in this part.

PART II

Mobile Masterlist

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

PART III

“Turn around slowly,”

Sam felt his breath catch as the lighting behind her turned his white shirt translucent and could see her figure.

Izzy was lean; her shoulders a gentle swoop, a waist needing no corset to achieve its dip, Sam was sure his large hands would overlap encircling it, narrow hips curved enough to give them a feminine shape, incredible legs with well defined calves peeking out from under the end of silk drawers. He could see between her thighs, Sam personally preferred them plumper, especially when he was lying in between them.

She slowly turned revealing her stomach did possess a slight feminine softness and far from his handful breasts perched high upon her chest needing no assistance to remain pert. Izzy was not malnourished like Sam first supposed but long and lean built.

As she turned her back to him, Sam drew in his lower lip and bit down to stop any noise as he pressed his palm against his swollen cock trying to find some relief.

His restraint was close to breaking, something about this woman made every fiber of his being want to take her apart, have her begging him for release but at the same time wanting to protect her from his own lasciviousness. He wanted her to freely give in and use him to discover her own hedonistic desires.

As she finished turning Sam quickly composed himself, shifting the sketch pad over his lap to cover his predicament. “Stand facing me I want to do a couple more and we’ll call it a night, I’m sure you must be getting tired.”

***

Izzy sat up with a start unsure what had awoken her and immediately regretted it. She burrowed back under the blanket remembering the events of yesterday.

After Sam had bid her goodnight at the second floor stairwell she took the pitcher to the WC happy to find there was still some warm water left in the pipes. She washed up quickly in the cool room deciding to not mess with the fire. Now she regretted it, it was freezing.

Wrapping the blanket around herself she went to the small round window and looked out at the light snow that had fallen sometime during the night.

Shivering she moved over to the pot bellied stove and opened the small door. She had seen the maids do this plenty of time so she picked up the small coal shovel and dumped coal into it. Finding paper starters she inserted a few in between the coal and lit a match to ignite the paper. The stove started smoking up the room as she had forgotten to open the flue.

Carefully reaching in she felt around for the handle, found it and pulled. It was stuck. She tried again, “Come on you bugger!” Izzy snapped as her door slammed open startling her. She landed on her bum at Sam’s shouting about burning the house down.

Hurrying over he knelt down and gripped the handle jerking it open, the smoke sucking upwards starting to clear the room.

Sam grabbed her arm roughly jerking her up onto her knees, “Don’t you have enough sense to open the fucking flue before starting a fire!”

“I tried to open it but the son of a bitch was stuck! How dare you charge in here and roughhouse me you bastard!” Izzy yelled back and shoved Sam hard enough he ended up on his arse.

They glared at each other breathing hard for different reasons. Sam was awoken to the smell of smoke triggering the worst memory of his life and in his panic lost his temper out of fear.

Izzy, despite the beliefs about redheads, rarely lost her temper but Sam's forceful manhandling had triggered strange sensations she was unsure of and it scared the hell out of her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lose my temper but you come barreling in yelling and putting your hands on me, that isn’t something I’m accustomed to.”

Sam grimiest, “I shouldn’t have grabbed you, I apologize. And this is my fault, I forgot the flue sticks sometimes. Here, let me show you how to work it.”

Sam watched Izzy scoot over in front of the stove awaiting his instruction. There was one problem; he couldn’t reach in and still have room around his arm for her to see what he did. He moved behind her and got on his knees trapping her legs between his. “What are…”

“You wouldn’t be able to see what I’m doing so I’ll guide you on how to work it.” Sam informed her as he took her hand and inserted them into the stoves opening.

“Feel for the handle,” she wrapped her fingers around the lever as his fingers covered hers, “good. Now when you tug it, twist your wrist at the same time,” Sam instructs. As their arms slid back she pressed against his chest, his naked chest.

Izzy became intimately aware of his substantial member as she was only in her undergarments and Sam, having rushed out of his room, in only his sleep attire.

While most Englishmen wore knee length sleep shirts Sam preferred the pajama style pants from India that hide absolutely nothing when it came to his lower physique.

“I believe I have the technique down on how to work it.”

Her phrasing caused Sam’s member to stiffen more. He slowly rocked his hips in a subtle manner enjoying the friction from the silken material and heat of her.

Sam placed his lips near her ear, “Not yet but you will soon.”

***

Sam yawned as the carriage traveled over London’s busy cobblestone streets. He turned to Izzy finding her starting out the window, wondering what she was thinking. Neither mentioned the incident in her room when they meet in his studio after lunch yesterday. Sam thought back on their slightly skewed conversation.

***

Izzy sat there fidgeting again.

“Will you sit still?”

“I’m bored, not used to just sitting doing nothing. Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“I don’t care.” she cocked her head, “Where are you from originally? I can’t quite place your accent.”

“North.”

“North what?”

“Just north, straighten your head up.”

“Is your family still there?”

“Yes and no.”

“Which is it?”

“...”

“What do they do?”

“Work on an estate.”

“Which one?”

“...”

“Are you an only child?”

“Yes and no.”

“Oldest, middle or youngest?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you being obsequious?”

“Why are you being nosy?”

Izzy blows a raspberry at him.

“That was rude.”

“Then answer my questions.”

“I would if you asked something interesting.”

She squints slightly, “How old are you?”

“Twenty nine.”

She snorted, “practically decrepit.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Practicality baggage yourself.”

Izzy smiled, making Sam catch his breath. It did nothing to improve her looks but was the most guileless one he’d ever seen; he couldn’t help but laugh. She slumped forward resting her forearms on crossed legs studying him.

“When did you see your first nude female?”

“I was twelve.”

“Who was she?”

“Chambermaid. I caught her while washing up.”

“Is that when you decided to become a painter?”

The sketchbook slipped on Sam’s knee as he jerked his head up in surprise. “You think I do this so I can freely ogle naked women?”

“You wouldn’t be the first depraved man that used a legitimate profession for it.”

Depraved. That word stuck in Sam’s mind the rest of the day. Yes, he had done many things in his life that society would consider deprived but to him, it felt natural.

He had stayed up looking at his sketches of her pondering how he would paint her. She didn’t fit most of the classics, her looks were too generic and completely unique at the same time when inspiration finally struck.

***

The carriage stopped in front of a semi detached house in a quiet street. Sam led them to a side entrance. As he rang the bell, Izzy looked at the placard: Madame de Merteuil- Seamstress.

The door opens revealing an older woman. She greeted Sam in heavily accented English, ushering them into her well appointed home. They conversed briefly before Izzy was led into another room.

A younger assistant joined them. Izzy removed her orange dress and Madame de Merteuil personally took her measurements, tutting under her breath, just like her mother's personal seamstress, who only went by Madame, always did at her lack of figure.

The assistant had to bring many swatches of cloth to test against her skin tone, the unflattering comments in French never stopped.

Izzy chose a couple of safe, simple styles and a few undergarments in silk, she couldn’t stand scratchy wool ones, making the seamstress sniff but had them brought out to Sam for approval. She returned telling her they were done.

Sam was flipping through a dress pattern book when Izzy came out. “I hope I didn’t select too many things.” He looked at her curiously, “I thought you would have chosen more than you did.” Izzy shrugged, “I don’t need much.”

Sam was surprised when Madame de Merteuil showed him what had been selected. The women he had brought here previously generously spent his coin but outside of the silk undergarments, which made him wonder if the Duke had given her the ones he had seen her in, Izzy had chosen the simplest everyday garments the seamstress produced.

“Is there anything else needed, Monsieur Winchester?”

Sam looked at Madame de Merteuil, “Yes, do you still have any that dark green left? I’d like it for a coat.”

“Oui, that material would compliment her well.”

“She’ll need an evening gown, that purple silk you showed me, you know what style I like.”

The seamstress bid them goodby. After they climbed into the carriage Izzy turned to Sam. “Why…”

“You are in need of a coat.” He said, “And an evening gown?” Sam shrugged, “I get invited to many events and I never go alone.”

Their last stop was to the pharmacists for personal toiletries and other sundry items. Sam made a face putting back the soaps and shampoo she had selected and chose some far more luxurious crafted items.

Izzy mentally frowned, she had picked the ones she had always used that were moderately fragranced, she didn't like the heavy, cloying scents many favored to hide the strong, unpleasant odors that came with living in London.

Well, if it was what he liked she would have to use them.

***

Izzy walked into the studio as Sam was finishing adjusting a side saddle on a wooden horse, the type workmen used, not the kind children rode.

He smiled at her confused expression, “I’ve decided on the composition for the picture,” he informed her as she started stepping up on the platform, “you will be Lady Godiva...” Izzy’s foot missed the edge and she banged her knee against it.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? She is considered one of the most beautiful women of all times! Mud puddles get more looks th…”

Sam was off the platform grabbing Izzy’s chin between his long fingers forcing her to stop talking and look up at him. He could feel her swallow hard at his thunderous expression.

“As long as you're in my home you are to never say another disparaging comment about your looks! Blink once if you understand me,” she did, “I don’t know who filled your head with that nonsensical claptrap but you have got to stop thinking that way.”

Sam let go of her chin and sat down speaking in a gentler tone, “Let me see your knee, make sure you didn’t injure yourself.” He picked her foot up and placed it on the edge of the platform lifting her skirt up to lay over her thigh and pushed her drawers up feeling around the joint. Her knee had a red line across it but seemed uninjured otherwise.

“Hmmm, you’ll have a bruise, I’ll have Mrs. Mills make a compress for it later. Now, as I was saying, you will be Lady Godiva, I need to sketch you several different compositions before starting the actual portrait so you’ll need to stop wearing my shirt.”

Sam had allowed her to continue wearing it with her drawers but now he needed to actually see her form unobstructed. “You can keep your drawers on for a bit longer but at some point you will lose them too.” Izzy bit her lip in uncertainty.

“Look, if you're too much of a mewling quim, you can leave right now.” Sam stood up irritated, it wasn’t like she had never been naked in front of a man before.

If there was one thing that made Isobella Tennant irate it was to insinuate she was a coward, no one ever got away with it.

With a defiant expression Izzy stared directly into Sam’s eyes before removing her dress and pulled the chemise over her head. She held it up and dramatically released it from her hand. She then untied her drawers letting them pool around her feet before kicking them away.

Turning her back on Sam, she stepped up onto the platform and mounted the saddle.

“Do you want it up or down?”

Forevers: @donnaintx

#artist!sam winchester x isobella tennant #victorian romance #artist!sam winchester x ofc #samwinchester #romance #ofc

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ubernoxa · 4 years

Text

Broken Voodoo: The story of the rock band that brought rock n’ roll back to life

Chapter 2: Welcome to the Golden Center

Story Sunmary: The 70s and 80s had Iron Madden, Guns N’ Roses, Skid Row and Morley Crue. It’s 2025 and Rock N’ Roll is more alive than ever thanks to Broken Voodoo kickstarting the rock n roll heart.

(MASTERLIST)

I groaned as I heard what felt like the millionth car horn honk from the street below us. I had been in big cities before, but LA was different. It was so loud, I wondered how anyone could get some sleep.

Fuck

I internally cussed as I felt something hit my head. Had I accidently knocked myself into the table?

I turned over to see Seb glaring at me from across the apartment. He looked pissed. If looks could kill, I would be dead, no question.

“Did you seriously just throw a pillow at me?” I shot back at the bassist. What was he 5 years old?

He looked like absolute shit as he propped himself up on his elbows to speak.

“Shut up and go to sleep. Your groaning woke me up. We have a long ass car ride today, so keep your pot hole shut so I can get some shut eye,” he shot back before rolling over.

Before I could think of some snappy comeback, I felt someone tap my shoulder. I looked up to see Oli, his shoulder length brown hair sticking out every which way. It was the epitome of a bed head. A red mug was placed in front of my face, and I quickly accepted it. All hope of falling back asleep pushed off to dreamland as I followed him onto the fire escape which screamed for help as we climbed out the window.

“Don’t worry, I sit out here every morning...it won’t collapse on us, having us fall to our death,” Oli sent me a not so reassuring smile in my direction as I sat down next to him. The fresh air hit my lungs, waking me up. The smell was refreshing, but anything was better than the smell of toxic BO.

“Well, falling to death isn’t on Jax’s schedule for the day, so I think if we don’t die from the fall then he would kill us for delaying his plan,” Oli’s laughter filled the small fire escape we were using as a front porch.

“Yeah...he always has a plan…” Oli took another sip of his coffee as we watched the sunrise.

The air between us was filled with the noise of drivers slamming on their horns and engines. There was something peaceful about watching the chaos unravel below me. A chaos I was eternally thankful for.

“I’d just ignore Jax, he has never been a morning person...plus his girl was working last night, so

He is a little moody. Kinda reminds me of a teenage girl,” I sent a warm smile towards Oli as he spoke. Between the coffee and his kind words, I could tell that he was trying to cheer me up. I appreciated it.

“Well I have a younger sister, so I am used to dealing with moody teanagers,” I took a sip of coffee before looking out at the ally below us. Oli’s laughter drowned out the noise from the cars passing by the street perpendicular to the ally.

“How long have you known each other?”

“Ohh Jax and I go back a few years. At least four of five years now…it’s kinda funny how time tends to blur itself. This is our third band together. I should warn you that this competition might get...might get a little heated,” his last comment caught me off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“The last band Jax and I were in together was called Halleon. Long story short we left because the lead singer was being….” I watched for a couple minutes as Oli seemed stuck, so I added “a jerk?”

“Yeah...a jerk, that’s a nice way to put it,” he smiled back before taking another sip of his coffee.

“Good morning!” I turned towards the window entrance and heard some shuffling from the apartment.

“Looks like Jen stopped by. It’s best if we stay out here, just in case they get….handsy if ya’ know what I mean,” I nodded and laughed at his response.

Jen looked like she walked straight out of a photo shoot. First off her blonde hair that cascaded down her back looked like she just came from the salon. Don’t get me started on how her hourglass figure was perfectly framed by the daisy dukes and crop top she was wearing. She made me fell like I was back in middle school, braces and all. Intimidated was an understatement.

“Andi...right,” I turned around and sent a small smile towards Jen’s direction.

“Yeah, and you must be Jen! It’s nice to meet you,” I sent a warm smile her way as I shook her hand. Like my mother always taught me. It never cost you any money to be nice.

“Yeah, but you can call me J!” I smiled at her cheerfulness.

It wasn’t long before, Jax and Robin showed up with the pickup truck for us to start loading. It felt like hours had passed as we moved our equipment to the trunk bed.

I ended up sitting shotgun in the truck with Oli, eternally grateful that I wasn’t in the lover's car as Oli had put it. Jax, Robin, Seb, and J were in the lovers car doing god knows what.

The car ride there went a lot faster than expected, and I felt the excitement flow through my veins as we pulled up to the venue.

“Welcome to the Golden Center,” Oli said as the stage came into view as they took the backlots. I didn’t need to guess why this place was called the golden center. The stage was adorned with golden accents and all of the railings and fencing were painted a gold color as well. It looked like it came out of a Disney Princess movie.

“Jax said that we had to follow the yellow arrows to sign in and confirm that we arrived for sound check which is in a couple hours,” I nodded as he spoke and we continued to follow the yellow arrows.

Within minutes, we arrived at checkpoint and had to get out of the truck.

“Name and band?” One of the workers asked when I hopped out of the truck.

“Band: Broken Voodoo. Name: Michelle” I replied while handing her my driver’s license.

“So you’re the new guitarist for Broken Voodoo,” I turned towards the guy who spoke, sending a confused look in his direction.

“Why? What’s it to you?” He looked like an 80s wanna be rockstar. With his shoulder length hair tied back with a bandana, I had to double check I was thrown back in the 80s. Don’t get me wrong I didn’t mind his attire, just like every other 80s rockstar he was hot.

All confidence diminished as I felt him look me over head to toe. Unlike him, I wasn’t dressed like a rockstar. I was wearing gym shorts and some shirt I got from doing gymnastics as a kid. To say that I looked out of place next to him was an understatement. It didn’t matter though, I was only playing with Broken Voodoo for one show. This would all be a fever dream to tell my children with I’m old and crotchety.

“Can you blame a guy for being curious?” he shrugged while keeping his ‘cool guy’ composure.

“Be careful curiosity killed the cat,” I added as the woman handed me some badges, my license and had me sign in. Whoever this wanna be rockstar was, he wasn’t as intimidating as the lawyers I worked with.

This earned a small laughter from which I assumed made all of his groupies swoon.

“How about this, my name is Rus, lead singer of Halleon. Now it’s your turn,” he offered out his hand and I shook it.

“Andi, rhythm guitar for Broken Voodoo.” So this was the jerk that made Seb and Oli leave Halleon.

“Nice to meet you,” he flashed me a million dollar smile I could easily see being on billboards when he made it big.

“I wish I could say the same,” I let go of Rus’s hand and turned towards Oli who seemed less than happy to see Rus standing in front of me.

#fanfic #fanfiction #band fanfiction #rock band fanfiction #guns n’ roses fanfiction #motley crue fanfiction #skid row fanfiction

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ernhardt-atlas · 4 years

Text

It Lives No More

Summary: It’s been about 6 years since the events of It Lives Beneath have happened and the crew has mostly moved on from it. Parker’s nowhere to be found, Danni has become the top writer for ClickIt, Tom’s graduated from Hartfield with his robotics degree and is working on starting his own shop, and Imogen is happily married to Athena Vance in Athena’s old home. One day in the summer the gang decides to get back together for a reunion trip to see how far everyone’s come.

Note: In this fic, Tom and Andy are dating, and Danni is engaged to Kaitlyn Liao from The Freshman because why not.

General TW: Death. Well that’s basically the premise of the It Lives Series, isn’t it?

Athena jolted awake in a cold sweat. She looked around frantically and saw the sleepin form of her wife under the covers. She sighed in relief. Another nightmare. You’d think after 6 years you’d be over it by now. But no one really gets over seeing at least 5 people die in the span of a summer, especially after seeing your parents’ corpses on the floor.

She decided to get some water from the fridge to clear her head. The hallway seemed to stretch for miles as she walked. Finally, she opened the fridge, letting the cool air wash over her. She reached out and grabbed the water jug and grabbed a glass from the cupboards. She absentmindedly poured the jug into the glass. It was when it began overflowing that she jerked the jug back. In her haste, the jug slipped from her grasp, spilling water everywhere.She attempted to put the jug back up, but she’s frozen in place, as if by some unnatural force. Water continued to gush out of the jug, not seeming to stop. In fact, the jug didn’t seem to be emptying itself wither. More and more water poured out. It pooled around her feet, rising rapidly. She tried screaming for her wife, but no sound came out.

By now the water was to her shoulders. Gasping frantically, she tried to grab the jug again, but to no avail. She became completely submerged, air whoosing from her lungs in a panic.

Suddenly, somethin grabbed at her ankle. She looked down, and a black ethereal figure was watching her at the bottom.

“FFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNDDDDSS!” the form hissed.

She screamed, forgetting she was surrounded by water. She coughed twice, her fight or flight instincts kicking in. She found herself able to move once more, trying her best to swim away from the dark substance. She failed to watch where she’s going, hitting the wall at full force.

Her world went black...

Athena woke up in a pool of sweat in her bed. She turned cautiously over to the side, expecting this to be another horrible nightmare. She saw her wife’s figure in the blankets of the bed. She carefully pulls them back. Sure enough, she was there, in her pink nightgown.

Athena moved closer to give her wife a good morning smooch on the nose. The woman in question softly giggled, her green eyes opening lazily.

“Morning, Athena,” she whispered.

“Good morning to you, Imogen” Athena responded. She smiled as she made her away lower down Imogen’s body to her rounded stomach, kissing it as well. “And good morning to you too, little one.”

“Can’t believe we’re going to be parents soon,” Imogen said, partially excited, partially terrified. On one hand, she was estatic to be starting a new family with the love of her life. On the other hand, she was terrified of having her child grow up the same way she did. Her expression must have been obvious, because Athena carefuly tucked a strand of her curly hair behind her ear, holding her body tenderly

“Genny, you’ll be a great mother,” she assured her wife.

“How do you know?” she asked. Athena grinned and kissed her on the nose, making her blush.

“I know because I have an awesome wife,” she told her, peppering kisses on her cheeks and neck. “And I know an awesome wife makes an awesome mother.”

Imogen was laughing at this point, but Athena could tell she still felt a little insecure.

“Genny, you’re not Astrid,” she whispered. “You’re kind, and brave, and generous, and totally se–”

“Ok, ok!” Imogen gasped. “I get it. That…made me feel a lot better. Thank you..now let’s get ready! Danni said she’s picking us up soon for our trip.”

Athena smiled as they climb out of bed and get dressed. Athena was in the kitchen with their bags ready and preparing breakfast when she hears a giggle. A smirk danced on her lips because she knew the source of the wonderful sound.

“I know that’s my pretty wife in the back, now come here,” she said, whirling around to grab her and lift her in the air. Athena set Imogen down to gaze at her glowing wife. “You look beautiful, as always.”

“Sure if you call me being swollen like a berry beautiful, then I’m freaking gorgeous.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

There’s a sharp rapping at the door. Athena smirked.

“Must be Danni. She told me she was coming with her fiance,” Athena chuckled.

“I can’t wait to meet them!”

They opened the door, and Danni waltzed right in hand in hand with a very familiar rock star.

“Oh my god is that Kaitlyn Liao?” Imogen gasped. Kaitlyn grinned cockily, looping an arm around Danni. A small but glistening ring was found on her hand.

“Yep. But you can call me Danni’s future wife,” she said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

“I never took you for a rock fan, Genny,” Athena remarked.

“Trust me, I’ve listened to Kaitlyn and TBD all the time when I was in college.”

“I’m glad you like my music. Anyways, we’ve got to hit the road, Tom and Andy are waitng for us at Tom’s place,” Kaitlyn says. The girls help load Athena and Imogen’s things in the van and they head off. Imogen stared aimlessly out the window, while Athena leaned on the door thinking of her.

When they pulled up to Tom’s home, they found the two young men shirtless playing basketball in the driveway. Danni tried to get out of the van to tell them to hurry up and get in the van, but Athena stopped her.

“Come on, Danni, let them have a little fun. They haven’t got much of a chance to have fun since Tom’s been stuck in college this whole time,” Athena insisted. Danni rolled her eyes.

“By the time they finish, Genny here will probably be ready to give birth,” she grumbled. They heard Andy’s happy cheers, indicating that he had scored a point. He grinned, victoriously dribbling the ball as Tom walked up to him with a seemingly innocent smile on his face. Andy leaned in for a victory kiss, and Tom happily oblidged…only for him to swipe the ball from Andy’s hands and shoot into the net to score. Partially angry and partially amused, Andy began wrestling with Tom for the ball. They both looked up and noticed the van full of girls. Blushing, they broke apart to go get their things and get dressed.

A few minutes later they also stepped into the van.

“So, still into basketball, huh, Andy?” Athena asked.

“I never got tired of it,” Andy responded, with a smirk.

“That game looked pretty intense,” Kaitlyn commented.

Andy got up to yell, “Which I would have won if-”

“You hadn’t gotten distracted,” Tom interrupted. His face broke out into a grin. “By me.”

“You tricked me by kissing me so you could steal the ball from me!”

“Techincally you initiated the kiss, but the rest of it? Guilty as charged.”

Andy simply rolled his eyes and leaned against Tom silently, but you could tell he wasn’t really mad at Tom.

“Soooo, I believe our first stop is to see “Desire and Decorum: II” at the movies. I can’t wait to see how Clara manages to get out of her icky engagement with the Duke,” Kaitlyn said stepping on the breaks.

#choices stories you play #imogen wescott #tom sato #andy kang #it lives series #it lives beneath #it lives anthology #it lives in the woods #ilnm #playchoices

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ekultanraine · 4 years

Text

Haunt You (Charles Brandon/OFC) Rating R

Warnings: Sex

Summary: A foreign land, a foreign king and foreign way. Charles and Henry only set out to add another kingdom to the throne of England but found a whole different world.

The kingdom laid on the outskirts, it was tiny and insignificant in the larger realm of things. Yet Henry had been determined to have it for himself and they set sail in the morning, reaching it three days later. Charles hated sailing, the nausea that overtook him was debilitating but still he forced himself to stand beside his king, his friend as they sailed onto the shores. His blue eyes rose high above the sea, set upon a cliff side stood an open face ivory tower and standing upon the raised platform, a woman in white. Her long, flowing dress fluttered and danced in the breeze; Charles could not remove his eyes from her.

“You see her too then?” Henry questioned and Charles at last freed his gaze, looking to Henry.

“I do,” he agreed, and both men continued to stare as the ship was brought to shore. The woman, once the ship was docked, disappeared from their view and the men disembarked with the rest of the military.

Henry always rode in style and this day was no different. His flag bearers, with his standard raised high above their heads and his guards flanked his sides. Charles rode beside him as always and the men took in the beautiful land, nearly untouched by man. The homes were built into the landscape, something Charles admired but questioned the civility of the people.

“There,” Henry said, and Charles looked forward, seeing a larger house rising in front of them.

“This is the King’s castle?” Charles inquired and Henry nodded.

“It is as it was described to me,” he replied, Charles reflected on the painting in Henry’s own castle, one they had admired as boys and always assumed an imagined place. Yet now it stood before them and it could not be denied. The large oak doors creaked open, a tall, bearded man marched out and beside him the brunette woman, her white dress still flowing about her.

“King Henry!” the man shouted, inclining his head and Henry dismounted, along with Charles.

“King Cuthbert!” Henry replied with the same volume and the man grasped each other’s wrists, greeting one another.

“I have heard your travel to my land, I welcome you with open arms and an open heart,” he said.

“Thank you,” Henry appreciated.

“This is my sister, Princess Elizabeth,” he introduced, and all eyes were on her now. She inclined her head, a small smirk on her coral colored lips and when she rose, her green eyes were on Henry.

“Your majesty,” she welcomed, and Charles saw the familiar smile on Henry’s face, he knew that look in his friend.

“This is the Duke of Suffolk, his Grace, Charles Brandon,” Henry introduced, and Elizabeth’s eyes moved to Charles. He felt his breath stolen from his lungs as she gazed upon him and he was glad she looked away first, he was not sure he would be able to.

“Come, let us sit and feast together,” Cuthbert offered, stepping back, and allowing both Henry as well as Charles to pass. Elizabeth followed Cuthbert and Henry as well as Charles observed her as she sat beside her brother, as though she was Queen.

They spoke at length on their kingdoms, Henry told Cuthbert of the painting in his royal home and Cuthbert told him that the painting was gifted to his great-grandfather by Cuthbert’s own great-grandfather.

“They were related, you know,” Cuthbert stated, and Henry’s eyebrows raised.

“Were they?” he asked, and Cuthbert nodded, taking a long drink from his cup.

“They were, for a very long time our two kingdoms sat side by side and back to back,” he mused.

“What happened?” Henry asked and Cuthbert turned his silver gaze to Henry.

“The war,” he said grimly, and Henry fell silent. The war had torn apart England like never and it was one of the reasons Henry so firmly held the reins of power, he never wanted to bring his country back to that.

“I am sure that time has mended those wounds,” Henry assured and Cuthbert only smile, his eyes moving away from Henry’s. “Where is your husband, Princess Elizabeth?” Henry asked, leaning into the table.

“Husband?” she questioned. “I have no husband, your majesty,” she dismissed, and Henry felt Cuthbert’s eyes upon him. He did not enjoy the way Cuthbert gazed at him, Charles could see this quickly and he understood why, Cuthbert seemed to always be calculating, assessing.

“No? How has a woman as beautiful as you not had suitors?” he asked.

“My sister needs no husband,” Cuthbert interrupted.

“Does she not?” Henry asked and Cuthbert’s grip on his cup tightened.

“No, she does not,” he stated. “And I will hear nothing more on this,” he asserted, and Henry balked visibly but fell quiet, he did not know Cuthbert well enough to raise his tone.

Charles and Henry were shown to their rooms, lavishly decorated, after dinner. Charles was beginning to undress when a knock came on the door and Henry rushed in without waiting, stopping fast.

“What do you make of him?” Henry demanded and Charles exhaled, releasing the surprised energy at his friend’s entrance.

“He is brash, as hot headed as you and protective of his sister,” Charles assessed, and Henry nodded in agreement.

“There is something strange with those two,” Henry mused, pacing the floor. “What woman of her beauty and her stature would not all read be married off?” he commanded. “A woman’s hand in marriage is the greatest asset in expanding your kingdom,” he stated, stopping, and looking to his friend who only shrugged.

“This is a strange land, perhaps they have different customs then us,” Charles offered, sitting on the bed, his legs weary from travelling on the ship and his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“If you were not married to my sister, I would offer your hand, my friend,” Henry said, and Charles looked at him.

“Trying to rid of me?” he asked, and Henry smiled.

“Never, it would be beneficial to our kingdom though,” he reminded.

“But I am married to your sister,” Charles said, and Henry nodded.

“I know, I know,” he said and stood, staring into space. “There must be someone we can marry her to,” he muttered and then disappeared as quickly as he entered. Charles sighed as he removed his boots, undressing to his undershirt and climbed into bed, moaning in happiness at the softness.

He woke with a start, gripping under his pillows for a dagger that wasn’t there, and his eyes fastened on the figure standing beside his bed.

“Charles Brandon,” Elizabeth’s voice came, and he blinked furiously trying to focus. The moon cast a dim light through the open curtains he had forgotten to shut, and it was clear she was in only in her nightgown.

“My lady,” he said softly, and she fell quiet, her eyes still gazing at him. With a swift motion, she removed her nightgown and his eyes widened, taking in her naked form. Her breasts were round, perfectly formed, she had beautiful curves and he rolled on his back as she climbed on the bed. She straddled him and gazed down at him, her long hair encasing them.

“Take me as you would take your mistress,” she said, and he smiled up at her.

“Not my wife?” he asked, and she returned the smile, his hand rested on her bare ass.

“No, a man is too gentle with his wife, with his mistress he is allowed to be more...” she trailed, leaning down, and pressing her lips to his. “Primal,” she whispered, and he groaned, grabbing her. He pulled her beneath him, quickly lifting the hem of his night shirt and shoved his rock-hard cock into her, she moaned. He watched as she gripped the pillows surrounding her head and her head tipped backwards, a moan left her mouth.

“Say my name,” he growled, and her eyes moved to his, a smirk on her face.

“Your grace,” she murmured, and he gritted his teeth, shoving into her.

“Again,” he said and slammed hard.

“Your grace!” she exclaimed, and he groaned. He had meant his actual name but there was something far too alluring about her using his title, as though she was beneath him.

“Why is such a beautiful and warm cunny as this not married?” he whispered into her ear and she gripped his shoulders, digging into the soft flesh.

“I do not wish it,” she replied, and he bit her earlobe, she moaned.

“You are a woman, how are you allowed such power?” he demanded, and she turned her lips to his, they kissed as Charles continued to fuck her.

“My brother is in love with me, he dares not marry me off because it will only make him jealous,” she replied. Confusion rushed through Charles, there was the pleasure of release but confusion of her words, he looked at her.

“In love with you?” he asked, not removing himself and she reached up, stroking his beard.

“Yes, he wishes to fuck me,” she said. “But I will not let him,” she dismissed and pushed Charles off her, he fell to his back. “He will not let me leave our shores nor marry because of this,” she said rising from the bed and Charles watched as she pulled her nightgown over her head. “Return to sleep Charles Brandon and speak of this to no one or you shall not leave our shores,” she vowed, kissing him, and leaving as quietly as she arrived. Charles stared into the darkness and tried to catch his breath as well as his thoughts.

#charles brandon #henry cavill #the tudors #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #charles brandon fanfiction #henry cavill fic

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years

Text

Unmasked ~ Six

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Please enjoy the sixth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 6 ~~

If I found some of the townhomes and wealthy mansions we have visited in the past month gaudy, the Capitol estate of the Duke and Duchess of Cashmere qualifies as obscene. Not even located in the city itself, it takes near an hour simply to reach it. When we do, I have to remind myself not to gawk.

The lane, lit with a long queue of torches, seems to extend past the horizon. They pass the carriage windows in streaks of orange and short bursts of heat before we reach the next. The wheels churn on the rocks and I contort myself to see the house without leaning out the window. It rises up into the evening sky, more palace than house, set against magnificent hues of pink, red, vibrant orange, purple, and deep blue.

“It’s beautiful,” Madge breathes, having leaned across my body to peer out the window as well.

“Of course it is. Cashmere would not settle for anything less than spectacular and the Good Lord Himself wouldn’t dare provide less than a spectacular sunset to grace her affairs,” Effie announces and Haymitch grunts from beneath his tipped forward hat. He hasn’t moved since we left, making me wonder if perhaps he were napping, but his response suggests that he is wide awake. Effie catches on to this and swats his arm with her fan. “Haymitch! It is a masquerade. Put on your mask!”

Madge leans back in her seat and smiles at me, adjusting her own mask, which is already perfect anyways. The carriage jostles slightly and the loud clacking of hooves followed by the bone jarring rattling alerts us that we have reached stone. The house embraces us, a giant U shaped around a cobblestone courtyard. Almost every window shines, ablaze. I cannot imagine the expense of candles to light this place.

We have time to wait, already a long queue of arriving carriages has formed. When it is our turn, a footman in dark blue livery opens the door, and bows low enough for us to see the purple bow tying back his long hair before assisting all of us from the carriage. Haymitch leads us up the stairs, Madge laces her arm with mine and we clasp hands. I can tell from the way she looks around as I am that even she has never seen such wealth.

I scramble with mental hierarchy to figure out where Lord Mellark, Marquis de Vale would be placed in wealth and privilege, somewhere between a duke and an earl, I believe. Such things were unimportant to my parents since we had so few out of the area visitors to Everdeen, let alone anyone with a title besides Madge’s family. Unlike most young girls my age, I did not have a ranking list of the peerage drilled into my brain. My parents never cared and therefore neither did I. Effie has given me at least half a dozen lectures on it, yet all I can now remember is a vague buzzing noise in my brain, like a persistent fly. Now it seems a disadvantage that I did not pay closer attention.

If I am right in my guess at rankings, that means Sir Robert is used to more wealth and fine things than Madge, although perhaps not this much. I hope not, at least. As we climb a grand set of stairs lined with more torches, it is yet one more reminder of all the things I do not know about Sir Robert or the sort of life I will lead as his wife. I formed plans for Everdeen and failed to consider that, if Sir Robert is expected to present himself and act as though he is first in line for the title, as his wife, I will be expected to act as a future Marchioness. I have no idea how to behave around such wealth and nobility.

Once, I overturned a log deep in the woods, uncovering a writhing pile of worms. At the time, I had been happy to see them, signs of growth and the vitality of nature in the soil. Now I feel as though they have taken residence in my stomach and they are most unwanted.

What have I done? I’ve engaged myself to a stranger. I panicked when I agreed to his proposal, afraid that if I rejected him, another such proposal might never come my way. I do not have time to seek out another unless I decide to forsake Everdeen to the control of our steward, sever my thoughts and care from my home and her people. No, I cannot do that, not while my father still breathes and the responsibility for the land and people rests with my family. I must repair the damage done in my impulsive reaction and learn exactly who my betrothed is, ensure that I will not be expected to neglect Everdeen simply because I choose to paste the name Mellark over the one I was born with.

Now, I tell myself not to panic as Effie jabs her fan into my side, prompting me to stand straight as Haymitch hands over our invitation to a gentleman in a uniform that matches the footman’s only with more braiding on the jacket, and we are announced. Announced at a masquerade, how ridiculous. Tis no wonder everyone knows who everyone else is here.

We glide regally down another set of stairs into a wide, marble and gilded foyer. The ceiling soars up to a magnificent painted ceiling. We descend down to a cloud grey marble floor and are almost immediately swallowed into the crowd.

“Now girls,” Effie snares my hand and reminds us one more time. “If we are separated, you two stay together. We will meet here at the end of the evening.”

And then we are separated, the crowd deftly dividing us into pairs as I cling to Madge and we are swept along.

“Shall we find the food or Sir Robert first?” Madge asks.

“A drink!” I gasp as a hand caresses over my backside and I jump forward. I whirl around to yell at the man who accosted me only to find no one I can easily accuse. Whoever touched me has already disappeared into the crowd. So then that is what Madge meant about inhibitions being discarded or forgotten. “Something to drink.”

We search for the refreshments and finally find them, gulping down a clear, fizzy wine. We ogle the spread of treats to eat and decide on a few we will need to try later. There are so many beautiful gowns around us, and we spend some time admiring several. Whispers seem to follow us and I wonder at their cause until I ask and Madge pulls me towards the dancefloor as we hear the orchestra tuning their instruments.

“It’s your gown. They are all wondering who you are and talking about your gown, Katniss. No one will be able to forget you tonight.”

“We were announced.”

“No one paid attention to that,” she waves it off as insignificant.

I glance down at my gown, searching for a reason it might attract attention. Perhaps the tones of the dress are darker than the pale colours that seem to be the fashion. I am not the only one here dressed in dark shades; however, I am the only one wearing a single sleeve. The silver painted designs curling over my bare arm adds a touch of almost scandal. I’ve never had so much skin on display and suddenly feel quite out of sorts. Apparently I am doomed to continue making poor decisions this week. I take another drink of the wine and let the bubbles carry away some of my thoughts.

We stand on our toes as couples line up for the first dance, eyes scanning the crowds for a familiar profile or gleaming blonde curls.

“I do not see him,” Madge says, confusion in her voice.

“Nor I.” The worms have discovered a feast in my stomach as the music begins and with a few cheers, so does the dancing. The Duchess wisely chose to begin the evening with a lively tune and while it appears to be a great deal of fun, my promised partner is absent.

“He must be here somewhere,” Madge insists, with a squeeze of my hand. “We will wait near the floor and he will find us. That is why you sent him the note describing your mask and gown.”

Halfway through the first dance, we’re approached by a gentleman in a blue and silver mask, dark copper toned hair and sea green eyes. He asks for the next dance and I refuse, insisting that it is already spoken for. Another man asks Madge for a dance and she refuses as well.

“You should dance,” I tell her once we have reached the third with several more invitations to dance and still no sign of Sir Robert.

“I won’t leave you alone.”

When the first gentleman returns during the fourth dance to request Madge partner him for the next song, however, we have run out of excuses. “Surely you are not still going to claim you are spoken for? You have not moved a step!”

Madge accepts his invitation with a concerned glance back at me and I motion for her to go and to have fun. As soon as her attention is claimed by the dance, I allow my smile to vanish. I glance up towards the grand staircase and see several late guests wander in, although the servant who announced guests at the start appears to have ceased his duties.

That is it, I tell myself with a confident nod. Sir Robert is late, as usual, and I have missed his arrival or perhaps he has not yet arrived at all. I need only wait a few more songs.

After the fifth, the orchestra takes a short break. Madge returns and we test a few of the treats, although we do not linger for long. The crowd is near impossible to navigate and I am concerned that Sir Robert will not be able to find me at all.

Another set and I am tired of the whispers following me, of being asked to dance by several gentlemen but not the one I want. Madge is claimed for dance after dance, and I cannot seem to find my family. It is more humiliating than being stuck in the mud and needing Peeta’s assistance. I turn back to the tables of food for solace, then away when I see how crowded they’ve grown. Just as the orchestra begins the third set of dances, I spot him.

A head of blonde hair standing perfectly still in the sea of people moving around him. He calmly surveys the dancers, as though looking for someone. I do not know how he managed on such short notice, but his attire matches mine. Dressed in a dark grey coat and vest, ivory trousers, shirt and cravat. His mask, painted deep hues of red much like the ones adorning my mask, covers almost the entirety of the left side of his face, but only down to the cheekbone on the right. The asymmetry mimics my dress and I wonder if he somehow planned that. Did Effie or Cinna speak to him in advance? I shake my head, gather my ire and my skirts, and charge towards him. Effie insisted I bring the matching lace fan Cinna made for this gown and now I am happy to have it as I wield it as a weapon of irritation.

Thwack! Into his chest. His head snaps to look down at me. I do not even attempt to disguise my annoyance.

“You are horribly late.”

He releases a soft puff of laughter, his smile fleeting but warm. He then sobers, taking my hand holding the fan in his and bowing low over it, the motion slow and deliberate.

“A thousand apologies for keeping you waiting, Miss Everdeen. There was a bit more traffic than I expected to encounter.”

“Will you be late to your own wedding then? Your funeral?”

“Hopefully not the first, and could you fault me for the latter?”

I laugh a little at this. His dry tone is not one I am used to him using. I rather like it on him. Laughter makes forgiveness easier, but not assured.

“You owe me a dance, sir. Perhaps several for keeping me waiting so long.”

“Ah…the floor looks quite crowded. Perhaps later?” I ignore disappointment as he gestures back towards the food tables. “A refreshment instead? It is quite warm in here.”

He extends his arm and I take it, settling into a careful walk through the crowds. It takes some time, avoiding merry people and those who have already managed to imbibe a little too much. Sir Robert speaks not a word, not even when he steps back, fingers lightly grasping my elbow to maneuver through tight spots with me in the lead. His fingers swipe gently over my bare skin and then are gone, once more replaced with his arm, just in time to steady me as I have to halt abruptly for a passing lady too preoccupied with her dessert to notice us.

I catch Madge’s eyes then and her mouth rounds out for a second then turns to a smile as she spots my companion. She waves once, with excitement before the gentleman she is with steps between us and claims her attention again. She laughs at whatever he says, her cheeks pinkening. I am happy to see my friend enjoying herself and glance up at the man beside me, hopeful once more that the evening will be fruitful for me as well.

He secures two glasses for us and hands me one with another slight bow.

“I am glad you are here, if a trifle late,” I say, uncertain how to breach the silence.

“As am I.” He leans close then to whisper in my ear. “In truth I am surprised you bothered to wait. Half the gentlemen here are mesmerised by you and those who are not are clearly foxed.”

“And which half are you?” I ask, warmth blooming in my chest at the compliment.

“I’ve not had anything to drink yet,” he murmurs. My pulse flutters madly at his words and the heat of his breath on my ear. “I am thankful no one ran off with you before I could make it here.”

I have to shake my head to free my senses of the thrill, and hide my smile behind my wine. “Flattery will not save you from my annoyance. I still expect that dance.”

“Normally I would dance, except I become clumsy after the reel.”

“You’ve not even danced one, how could you become clumsy?”

“It is a rare talent and requires a great deal of practice.”

Once more, I find myself laughing. Relieved and wondering if perhaps I should talk him into wearing a mask and banishing his brother for the next few months if this open and witty man is who he truly is when unguarded. Peculiar that society’s masks hide more of our true selves than a physical mask.

I have so many questions, but before I can even ask one, his gaze is drawn away from me to a girl with lustrous red hair. She can be no more than sixteen, the same age as Prim, and hides on the fringes of the crowd. She holds her lips tight together and glances about the room. She produces a small mirror from the pockets of her gown and releases her lips. They are stained bright red and she gasps, tears trickle down her face from behind her mask. She grabs a glass of wine off the table near her and moves to drink, licking her lips. When she once more checks her face and nothing has changed, I understand her dilemma and move towards her.

Shielding her body from view of the crowds, I take the wine from her. “What happened, darling?”

“The punch! The red punch! My mother is going to be furious!” Panic makes her talkative as she spills half her life story. “She says my red hair is a mark against me. That only ladies of a certain nature have red hair or red lips. And now I’ve both! It is my first ball!”

“Hush. It will be alright. We shall find your mother and explain.”

“That won’t work!” She wails and it is then that I notice her teeth are stained as well. Sir Robert excuses himself. I send an annoyed glance his way before focusing on the torrent of words spilling from the poor girl’s mouth. She hardly takes a breath, leaving me no room to comfort her as she babbles on about all the ways she has already disappointed her dear mother. I have half a mind to find the woman and lecture her in the hall. “She told me not to drink the red punch. I might spill it and stain my dress and…and–”

“Here.” His hand brushes my arm and I glance down to see a glass of the red punch. My hands move to accept it of their own volition. When my eyes jump up to his face, he’s already drinking from his own glass.

“Sir! No!” The girl cries and he smacks his lips in satisfaction.

“That is quite delicious. Hm, and now we shall start a new trend.” He turns away from us and speaks to the closest passer by. “Good sir! You must try the red punch!”

He begins to tell everyone who will listen that they must try the punch, or that the wine appears to be running thin but there is still the excellent red punch, any number of extortions given with smiles and a joke or two, his mouth not yet stained enough to reveal the danger in drinking it to everyone he encourages.

The girl gasps as several people begin to brave the red punch. Glasses are fetched for ladies who await refreshment. Matrons hand them to their young charges.

“Miss Everdeen,” he lifts his glass to mine and a wide smile spreads across my face before I take a healthy swallow as he does the same. In an astonishingly short amount of time, half the guests have red stained mouths and our new friend has a dance partner with lips that now match hers and who pulls her towards the floor with a smile on her face.

We watch her for a moment and I feel an odd sort of pride as she says something that has her partner laughing before he twirls her. I glance up at the man beside me, astonished at his handling of the situation. It was not the behavior I would expect of the shallow fop concerned mainly with his dress, the latest gossip, or the status of his stables that I thought myself engaged to. It hints at someone with more substance, more care for the people he shares this world with, and even in our current silence, I feel more comfortable with him than ever before.

“May I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he says.

“I know so little about you.” His eyes meet mine and for one second, I am the one mesmerised. His eyes seem a deep blue in the shadows created by the mask. Dark and wonderful.

“We are wearing masks. You are not meant to know a thing about me.”

“I think I might like to change that. Do you know of a place in this monstrous palace where we might talk easier?”

He seems to hesitate then looks over the crowd for a moment. Setting both our glasses aside, he takes my hand in his and leads me through the crowd. Once again it is slow going. For one moment, I think he is perhaps leading me towards the gardens, a veritable den of wickedness and sin at these balls, if Aunt Effie is to be believed. He has misconstrued my intentions!

I begin to panic as I realise that yes, I had planned on kissing him tonight, but now that I am faced with the possibility, I am mortified. Or perhaps terrified. I do not know what I am thinking except that I wish to talk more and then decide if I even want to kiss him. That is the courtship I should have pursued, I realise now. Oh how my father would be disappointed in my headstrong, stubborn pursuit of matrimony first and trust later.

Sir Robert turns away from the doors leading out to the gardens and instead leads me through a tall arched doorway and into a long hall that seems to span an entire arm of the house. Tapers line the walls on both sides and windows framed in heavy drapes show the black night outside. A handful of guests wander up and down the checkered floor. Within a few steps, the noise from the ball lowers considerably. Only the sounds of shoes on marble and whispered conversations, a sprinkling of laughter float on the air.

“Oh,” I breathe in relief. This is perfect. It is quiet enough that we might converse, empty enough that we shan’t be overheard, but contains enough witnesses that a wise person would not try anything untoward. He slows his step and I notice that one foot seems to drag a little. “Did you injure yourself?”

“Nothing serious,” he explains and then releases my hand, setting me free to walk.

“But perhaps aggravated by dancing. You could have simply said that instead of making excuses,” I say with a smile and he seems to be examining me. “I was beginning to think you did not want to dance with me at all.”

“I would dance a hundred dances with a broken leg were that the only way to make you happy.” I laugh nervously at his flattery, although this is closer to the Robert I am familiar with. How horrid. To have a husband who flatters and compliments at every turn. But will he flatter and flirt with every other lovely lady of his acquaintance? Or me and me alone?

The question disturbs me as his blue eyes follow me down the hall, his footsteps slow and steady behind me. Deliberate and methodical.

“What is this room, then?”

“Portrait gallery,” he explains as we reach the first painting and I make a noise of understanding. “I believe the last time I was forced to sit in conversation with the Duke, he explained that these span… thirteen generations?”

“Thirteen?” I ask, glancing back at him with a quirk of my lips.

“I am guessing. I honestly don’t remember what he said.” Another laugh rises in my chest and bursts free. He gifts me with a sweet smile.

“Perhaps we should try to count then.” I turn back to the portrait and he stands next to me. Shoulder to shoulder as we examine the face of a long dead ancestor. At least, I am guessing he is dead, based on the ruffled collar he wears.

“Do you think anyone choked wearing those?” The laugh that rings down the gallery is his this time. On an impulse, I grasp his hand and drag him to the next. This one is of a couple and I find myself mimicking her pose.

“I think you have all the makings of a duchess,” he says. “Or perhaps not. There is too much laughter in your eyes.” I glance at the serious woman in the portrait and then back at him, his quirked smile. I attempt to keep my entire face somber and only earn a slowly widening, red stained smile until he laughs, shaking his head and unable to believe my act as I too laugh. Odd that I have never noticed his smile as being lopsided. I am learning all sorts of new things about my fiancé tonight.

We wander the gallery, commenting on the stern faces depicted in each portrait. He turns it into a game of sorts, concocting stories about the inhabitants of canvas, forever frozen. Most of them are silly and ridiculous and have me laughing until I can hardly breathe. Then we reach a set that dampens the mood and yet reveals so much.

“This poor lady was told to appear more cheerful and cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Her husband brought home another hunting trophy to clutter up her drawing room.” He points to the portrait immediately to the right, a stern looking man standing triumphant over a dead tiger.

“The poor creature. Why would you kill such a magnificent animal?”

“I was led to believe that you hunt,” he says and I lift one shoulder to convey a sort of indifference.

“If there is a use for the animal. A stag provides a bounty of meat, skin to be turned into leather for shoes or tack, antlers carved into tools such as needles and more. But this…have you ever eaten a tiger steak?”

“I cannot say that I have.”

“Perhaps if one were desperate or close to starving, but this man is garbed in gold buckles on his shoes and the finest velvet coat. It is needless and cruel to kill such a creature simply as a trophy. All that accomplishes is to satisfy your vanity.”

The look he gives me stirs something deep within. I feel as though we have somehow charged the air with our conversation and if one of us so much as speaks, the entire place with erupt. He leans towards me for a moment and then steps abruptly towards the next portrait and I wonder if he was about to kiss me in the middle of the portrait gallery. But why? And then… Why didn’t he?

After that, we continue our game with a touch less levity, although in between portraits we answer superficial questions.

“What is your favourite colour?”

“I am appalled by your question and shall fetch my Uncle at once to defend my honour,” I protest lifting my nose and turning from him with a smile still on my lips, earning a warm chuckle from him.

“I doubt that you need his help. Perhaps if I tell you mine?”

“Green,” I say, not really wanting to put up too much of a fight and flattered by his comment on my independence.

“Green?”

“Yes.”

“I imagine for your countryside that you love so much.”

“And my forests. I need trees as much as I need air to breathe.”

“Which explains why you are so fond of riding in the park, the only real source of abundant trees in the city. There are trees in the gardens here, I believe,” he suggests and I pause. He seems to realise my hesitation and alters course. “Orange. My favourite colour is orange.”

“The fruit?”

“No, not quite that bright. A shade of orange that you might find in a sunset.”

“Similar to tonight’s,” I whisper, seeing that beautiful panorama from tonight again and feeling my heart speed at the sudden idea of pausing in evenings to watch the sunset over green hills with him.

“Exactly like tonight’s.”

“Unorthodox, but I like it. We have this wildflower at Everdeen that blooms in the spring. I missed it this year, with our haste to reach the city and… anyways I think you might favour the shade.”

“Might I?” his fingers brush mine and I shiver, disappointed when he withdraws his touch. “Tell me more about your home?”

I lose myself telling him all about the hills and the forests, my time as a girl, my father, Primrose and mother with their healing hands and welcoming hearts. The families who rely on us, the faded golden and green and purple hues of the harvest. I am astonished at how he listens, asking all manner of questions at exactly the right time. I talk and talk until I am sure that he must be bored with me and then realise that we have traversed the entire length of the gallery back again, to the doorway where we began.

“It sounds lovely. I hope for the chance to see it one day.”

“You shall,” I promise with a smile and he seems to fidget nervously for a moment.

“Miss Everdeen,” he begins and then stalls for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts before he continues. “There is something I should confess to you.”

A strong breeze curls in through the doors to the gardens, setting the thin gauzy curtains to dance. It distracts me and I catch the scent of the flora, the cool night air. The music beckons, and yet as much as I want to dance with him, the pull of the gardens is stronger.

“Not in here,” I insist and take his hand, leading him outside and into the night.

His steps falter and I hasten, hoping that we will not be seen and that I will not regret this decision. I have spent unending hours with him for the past week, always with someone else present, and now that I have him to myself, I am discovering that he is an excellent listener, kind and thoughtful. He possesses a wicked sense of humor, steady and calm but with an unexpected heat in his blue eyes. I am curious to see that heat unleashed, yes, but beyond that, tonight is the first I have felt that perhaps I could build a life with this man. Only a few questions remain. Can he reveal himself to me as I have to him? Will he be repulsed by the last remaining secrets I hold? And if he kisses me, will I feel nothing at all or will I find the rapture Madge spoke of?

As we reach an orchard, the boughs of the trees hide us from the night and I inhale a deep breath, releasing it in a content sigh. “Now it is your turn. Tell me of your home.”

“Ah, that may prove difficult.”

“Because there are so many?” I tease and he shakes his head.

“Not quite.”

“Then tell me of your family. Start with your brothers. You once said there were several of you and yet I only know of the one.”

“Alright. Simple enough. There is Ethan, the heir, oldest and most responsible, obviously in line for the title.”

“Obviously,” I tease and he smiles.

“He is married to a lovely lady of irreproachable breeding and education named Sara. Sara prefers eating between meals and sneaks treats of all kinds to everyone she cares about whenever she is eating out of the routine and yet, she has never once been caught doing so. None of us wish to see her in trouble nor the end of the treats. She is also an excellent card player. Never wager against her, always partner with her.”

I laugh at this image of a doting woman handing out sweets and fleecing her family and acquaintances of their funds with an angelic smile, married to a stiff man of impeccable manners.

“They have five children, one son and four daughters, and the rest of us are constantly reminded how far behind we are.”

I blush at this, thinking in that moment of him playing on the floor with a small gathering of children, dark and light hair mixed together and laughter on the air.

“Then there is Henry, the spare, and also a scholar. He prefers the company of books to people. You will be lucky to get more than five words out of him unless it is to discuss the latest treatise on the ancient philosophers or the newest development in astronomy. His wife is named Angelica and she is…well the Marquis prefers to pretend she does not even exist.”

“Why not?” I ask, oddly defensive on this Angelica’s behalf.

“Because she is a professor of science, although no one beyond our family knows it is her. She conducts her classes via correspondence and a series of guest lecturers. In truth her real work is in the laboratory and in writing about her discoveries. You cannot tell anyone of this, Miss Everdeen.”

“Because it would ruin your family’s reputation to have a woman professor of science?”

“No,” he says and stops walking. “That is why the Marquis would wish for your silence, but not I. I ask for it because were she to be found out, she would no longer be allowed to continue her work.”

“You trust me with this?” I ask and he nods.

“Somehow I cannot see you doing anything that might jeopardize a woman moving through a man’s world.”

“You have figured me out,” I say and continue walking to avoid the odd tears gathering in my eyes. That he would trust me with such a secret, almost as though he already sees me as part of the family.

“Not yet, but I do feel as though we have made some progress tonight.”

“So then do Henry and Angelica have any children?” I ask, ignoring the happy flutter his words cause, knowing that we both entered this evening with similar goals.

“They adopted one child, a girl named Emma who had been abandoned near the Marquis’ estates.”

“And your father does not approve.”

“Hardly. But he approves of very little.”

“Would he approve of me?” I ask and hold my breath.

“Likely not,” he whispers. I shiver in delight as one finger traces the designs up my arm, starting from my wrist. He stops at the elbow and withdraws his touch. “I apologize, Miss Everdeen. I should not be so bold.”

Again I feel a pull towards him, like in the portrait gallery. His father would not approve and yet he does not care. An urge to move closer nearly overpowers me and I divert once more. There is more I wish to know before I lose all sense and kiss him.

“So then after Henry is you.”

“Yes,” he still whispers. “If a second son is a spare, you can imagine how superfluous a third or fourth son are.”

“And what profession would you choose to make your way in the world? Your twin, as you call him, has already covered the military.”

This seems to surprise him and he moves away from me, coughs slightly to clear his throat. “Yes, Peeta does have that one covered. Perhaps the church.”

“Somehow I cannot see that,” I say and he laughs. “Your father then has steep expectations of all of you.”

“One could say that. He is not…not a warm or affectionate man. He is kinder to his children than most other people in the world, at least.”

“And what of your mother?”

“That is…let us not delve into that tonight.”

“Very well,” I concede, curious but not willing to push too far. “There is yet one brother we have not covered.”

“You really wish to know?” he asks with a strange bite in his tone, almost defensive and stronger than it was when he spoke of his sister, Angelica.

“You seem close to each other. I wish to know of the important people in your life, even if he was born on the wrong side of the blanket.” Even from behind the mask, I can see his eyes darken and narrow.

“The simple version of it is that he came to live with us when he was eleven. Before that, there were no real connections with him.” This surprises me and I know it shows on my face. “We were born on the same day, two years apart, Peeta is technically the older, although most people refer to him as the fourth son, the same man fathered us, and the Marchioness despises Peeta’s presence in the world and in her house. The only reason she tolerates him at all is because it is rather impossible to deny the blood connection given the physical similarities and because her husband ordered her to do so. Anything else, Miss Everdeen?”

“I do not mean to offend,” I gasp out, uncertain how this changed so quickly. I have never seen Sir Robert angry or indignant about anything. He seems to float through life for the most part, and for one moment, I think that now I truly see the brotherly similarities, right before he seems to wilt and shakes his head.

“No, it is I who should apologize. You are asking out of a desire to know more of the family, not to malign, are you not?”

“I am.” I swallow and think of what Madge said, about how Peeta protects Robert the way that I protect Prim. This new information, this detail about Peeta being older than Robert sheds new light on their relationship. I can envision a young Peeta being ushered into a school room and ordered to conform to the expectations of the son of a marquis, being held responsible for his younger and more privileged but also more gregarious younger brother. Sir Robert perhaps providing levity and fun while Peeta provided the steady seriousness required of them. I can picture him providing a solid buffer between Sir Robert and trouble, protecting him and plucking him from sticky situations. Protecting him from fortune hunting ladies who might take advantage and break his heart.

The image causes unwanted sensations and a phantom touch that graces my legs along with a deep whisper in my ear and I turn away for a moment to regain my bearings.

“Miss Everdeen?”

“I should apologize as well. He is your brother. And if your relationship with him is anything like mine is with my sister…then you would do anything to protect him, and he you.”

“I would,” he says, and it sounds so much like a vow that I smile. We understand each other then. And now we arrive at the real test.

“Then I have one more thing to confess to you and then I expect that dance.” He moves to stand behind me, keeping enough space that we do not touch, yet close enough that I can feel the atoms of the air moving between us, around us. I feel the space as a tangible thing and close my eyes as I speak. I whisper to keep the air around us from igniting.

“I am…marked, sir.”

“Marked? How so?”

“By fire. I was…very young. Fifteen. My sister had a cat that was meant to stay in the barn and catch mice. He was an excellent mouser. We dubbed him the defendender of the lambs and pigs.”

He laughs at this and I feel my heart lightening a little. Enough to tell him the rest.

“She turned him into her pet and would bring him inside in secret, whenever it stormed. When my parents were gone for several weeks, we stayed with our neighbors. Their daughter is still my closest friend and we would often pretend we were sisters ourselves.” I swallow and his fingers find mine, tracing between them then up over the back of my hand, the touch so intimate and comforting. With his touch, I find the courage to continue. “My sister smuggled the cat to the manor with her. While we were there, my friend…her father had recently suffered a severe reverse in his fortunes. He told no one and sealed a marriage contract for my friend to a complete stranger.” I pause to breathe and cannot seem to continue.

“The Countess?”

“Madge, yes,” I say and feel his head bend towards mine. The delicate touch of his forehead to my crown and the whisper of breath over my scalp.

“He…he took his own life and Madge was devastated. She vanished somewhere into the estate and no one could find her. I knew where she was hiding yet told no one, thinking she needed some time to herself to grieve. My sister thought differently and sought her out. That evening, a fire started. No one quite knows how, although Lady Undersee was quite ill before her husband died. She often complained of headaches and Madge always preferred spending time at our home. We were…not required to be quiet at Everdeen. Lord Undersee’s death seemed to break his wife and she secluded herself. Many suspect her mind simply gave up that night and…”

“And the fire grew out of control before anyone knew what had happened?”

I nod and his hold on my hand tightens, draws me in closer as he turns me to face him. I stare at his chest as I continue. “I made it outside, as did the servants. But my sister and Madge. They were still inside. So I went in after them. I found Madge first, since I knew where to find her. She told me that Prim had wandered off, chasing the cat who had been terrified by the flames. We searched for Prim but, a beam fell, separating me from Madge. I told her to make her way outside, eventually found my sister and the cursed cat. I broke a window to escape and the air… it fed the flames. My dressing gown caught without me knowing. We made it out, all of us, barely and…” I cannot finish and blink to keep my tears in my eyes. A mask will not afford me privacy from tears. A gentle touch slides beneath my chin and lifts my head. I dare not look at him, afraid of what I shall see in his eyes.

“You saved your sister, and your friend.”

“And was left marked. Disfigured. The doctors remarked how it was a blessing that the flames never touched my face and yet… My parents chose not to set me loose on society and instead kept me in the country, fearing that the world would turn away from me in disgust if they learned of my scars. Worst of all, my friend lost both her parents that week. Had we not needed to find my sister and that daft cat, perhaps we could have saved Madge’s mother instead.”

“Perhaps. But I doubt that, if what you say about her grief is true. What you did was incredibly brave and selfless, regardless of who you saved and who you could not save.”

“Incredibly stupid,” I contradict and finally look up at him to find a deep blue well of sadness staring down at me. He shakes his head slightly.

“The two are so often intertwined it is impossible to tell them apart. You risked your life for another and should not feel shame at the marks left on your body. It is nothing more than flesh. What is in your heart is far more important.”

That same organ speeds up at his words as his gaze shifts to my shoulder, the one covered in fabric. He tilts his head and smiles softly.

“This shoulder. The scars are on this shoulder, are they not? That is the reason for your unique gown design.”

“Yes,” I whisper as he releases my chin to trace the edge of the fabric. Heat burns through me to such a degree that I fear more scarring and yet do not want to turn back. He has revealed so much of his true nature from behind the safety of the mask tonight. It only seems fair I show him mine.

“May I?” he whispers and I nod once. He will see them eventually, after all. What difference does it make if it is tonight or our wedding night? There is a small part of me that braces for his disgust, despite his gentle words.

Slowly, he peels back the fabric, revealing my damaged skin. I shiver and take deep breaths that turn to soft gasps as his lips touch me. Soft. Warm. Gentle, and dare I say it? Loving. Sensations radiate through me, and my knees quake. He kisses over my scars, then back up to my neck. “I should stop.”

“No, please,” I gasp and let go his hand to grab hold of his sleeves. The world pitches and tilts as he kisses beneath my ear and groans.

“Katniss.”

I smile and shudder beneath his kisses. It is the first time he has spoken my name and I sound beautiful and cherished on his tongue. I can easily imagine a lifetime of hearing my name whispered thus in the night. He knows me now and it thrills me beyond measure as his hand slides up my bodice to cradle my face and his kisses trail over my jaw in a slow burn towards my lips, even as his other hand soothes the memory of burns and pain in gentle strokes over ravaged skin.

“I wish you had never had to feel such agony. Never been called upon to be so brave so young.”

I tilt my head as though on instinct, heart pounding as his clean scent fills my head and the warmth of his lips tempts me deeper into this tryst. And I need to know. I wish that I could do it. Wed and bed with no feeling. Keep my marriage to business and contracts. Practical and cold, but I cannot. I need to know there will be some comfort, some connection at least if not love. His hand squeezes my shoulder and his lips swerve over my cheek, back towards my ear where he almost nibbles, taunting me.

“Never allow anyone to lead you to believe that you…” his kisses return towards my mouth just to the corner as I pant and cling to him, wishing for something I cannot name, afraid of wanting it so deeply. “…are anything less than exquisite.”

He breathes the words between my parted lips and still does not kiss them. I smile and shake my head, his hold on me gentle enough to allow the motion with ease.

“Such pretty words, but do you mean them?”

“Their beauty lies in their truth.”

It takes great effort to open my eyes and look into his. I can only stand it for a second before I pitch upwards and kiss him on his red stained lips. For one second he turns rigid as a statue, his grip on my shoulder tight and almost painful now. What did he expect with all the words and touches we have already shared tonight? I thought he wanted this as well and retreat, immediately humiliated and shamed. Perhaps it was a terrible kiss. It is my first, after all. Perhaps like riding a horse, kissing is a skill that takes practice. Or perhaps he truly is scandalised by my boldness. Tears prick at me but his hold is iron and I cannot escape, though I admit my attempts are feeble.

“Forgive me,” he moans and then his hand slides into my hair, his arm wraps around me and his lips join with mine again, crushing my small sound of surprise between us. His lips caress over mine and the sound melts into a soft moan that echoes down to my toes. My arms wrap around his neck, my body pressed to his, seeking more of whatever this delicious feeling coursing through me is.

So then this is what they whisper about behind laundry tubs and changing screens. Silken whispers of desire and passion and fire. Kisses that brand and claim and leave you wanting for more. He is everything in this moment. Everything that I want and need and crave. Bodily temptation and sustenance for my starving soul. Rapture. I feel my spine arch, molding my body to his. His lips on mine, gently demanding an answer.

Yes! I want to scream. Yes! a thousand times over to the thundering of my heart in my breast.

Something wet traces my lips and I shiver in delight, hands grasping bunches of fabric when he lifts his head to whisper to me.

“Open your mouth. Please, my pearl, open your mouth and let me taste you.” My lips part on a deep breath, a little stunned at the tendril of desperation in his tone and the salacious suggestion. His thumb traces my lower lip, tugging it down for a second. “Exquisite.”

And then I’ve no room for thinking. His lips drink every breath or word I might exhale. His tongue learns the shape of my lips. He swallows my stunned desperate gasp and then his tongue is in my mouth, hot and giving and greedy all at once. Taking and demanding but somehow bestowing far more than he takes. My body sags against him, relieved and overwhelmed, made boneless at the feel of him exploring and tasting, at the invitation I feel in his kisses to reciprocate.

Let me taste you, he had said. I slide my hands into his hair and boldly swipe my tongue past his into his mouth. He grunts and then retreats, drawing me in deeper. Inviting me to take control. My head spins and I accept the invitation. Kissing him as deeply as he kissed me. His hot exhales burn from his nose over my cheeks and then…

He steps back, hands gripping my shoulders and holding me away from him. His breaths heavy in the fragrant night.

“No. We cannot.”

“Why not?” I ask, voice trembling as cracks open across my heart. Tonight, for the first time, I have felt close to and possibly as though I could love the man I am meant to marry. More so than any moment before this, and yet he wants to withdraw. “We are to be married soon, Robert, remember? Or did you not mean your proposal this morning? We will spend the rest of our lives together. Why is it wrong for me to wonder about this? To seek an answer?”

“What?” He shakes his head and releases me, stepping back out of my grasp, towards the shadows. Silence stretches between us as I watch his shoulders sag, as though defeated. “It is not wrong. Your curiosity and need for an answer is not wrong.” His voice trembles in a way I cannot identify. “Did you find your answer?”

“Yes. Did you?” I ask, reaching for my dress to pull the sleeve back in place. He reaches for me and then seems to think better of it, pulling his hand back as though burned.

“I did,” he says, although his voice cracks. He sounds miserable. “Katniss, please forgive me.”

That is the second time he has beseeched me thus. Before I can tell him that I do not understand why I need forgive him, he steps towards me and touching me with only his lips, kisses me one more time. Brief. Passionate. Desperate. And then over.

“Exquisite. The man who marries you is the most fortunate bastard in the world,” he whispers. “Never let him forget that.”

Then he disappears, leaving me burning and reeling and somehow giddy. One crazed laugh escapes my lips and I cover my mouth to contain it. To hold in the heat of his kisses for just a moment longer. I take another moment to secure my cowl, to set my dress and mask to rights, and then I march back into the mansion with a spring in my step. I catch one flash of blonde curls shimmering in the candle light as he departs the ball, bowing to the Duchess and saying something that makes her smile and laugh before he disappears into the night.

I hope that he will dream of me tonight and then scold myself for such fanciful thoughts. Ours is still a marriage of convenience. And yet, our time together, his kisses tonight suggest possibilities. Hope lifts me high into dreams of a future. Could I be so fortunate as to have stumbled my way into a love match?

I am still pondering it when I collapse in the carriage after the ball, keeping my face as stoic as possible while Effie prattles on with the gossip. Haymitch grunts at intervals, pretending to listen. Madge examines me from across the carriage and it takes all my efforts to not blush or burst into a fit of giggles under her examination, especially when I see that all three of my family members in the carriage wear red stains on their lips. I hold it together until we are changed for bed and the maids have left us alone. Then I cannot and when Madge arches one eyebrow at me, I collapse into bed and squeal into my pillow.

“Now you really have to explain yourself,” she says. I feel the weight of her joining me on the mattress and turn my head to smile, uncaring how ridiculous I look.

“He kissed me.”

“And?” she prompts when I say no more. A sigh escapes me unbidden and Madge smiles. “That good?”

“It was…exquisite,” I tell her and she shoves me.

“You little minx! Tell me more than that.” We talk late into the night, into the early morning hours as I share my secrets with her. She takes my hand in hers as we yawn and drift closer to sleep as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. “I am happy for you, Katniss. I wish you happiness and love together. Truly this venture turned out much better than I expected when we left Everdeen.”

“It truly has,” I say and squirm deeper into the covers for warmth. What will it be like to sleep beside my husband? I shall find out soon, although perhaps not soon enough. I think of the announcement no doubt waiting to be printed in the papers and of Father back home.

The thought dampens my good mood. I need to return. While I’ve been drinking punch, laughing over portraits, and kissing a man, my father suffers and my mother languishes. Such liberties I allowed him tonight! Here in my bed, shame overwhelms the joy I felt in his arms. I was not aware that one could kiss by caressing tongues until this evening and it seems such a brazen thing for me to have allowed him on our first kiss. Guilt follows, rising up inside me, swirling together with an unpleasant mixture of feelings in my breast. I have been selfish and now that I have accomplished what I set out to do, I must focus on my duties.

Perhaps Robert will agree to a hasty wedding and damn the gossips, or perhaps I should leave the wedding planning in Effie’s hands while I return home and see to some business as well as my family. Surely a long engagement cannot hurt.

I slip into slumber, resolved to speak to him about it tomorrow.

To be continued…

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #prompt 88 #m

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wojtekbc · 5 years

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D&D Session Summaries for 8&9

So there were some things that needed to be sorted out, which is why these two have been bundled together. Details of what actually happened will be listed later in the post.

When last we left our heroes... Returning to the city of Octin after defending Ravenhome from a detachment of Warbreed, the heroes arrived in time to celebrate their victory with a festival. Fun was had, drinks were imbibed, Shura won the axe of the antediluvian war spirit Gonzo in an arm wrestling contest... you know how festivals go! All went well until our heroes encountered a procession heading through the heart of the city; the daughter of the Duke Fabron and an eastern noblewoman are to be wed in a couple days! Oh? It’s Naoise’s @bluethegirl wife??? Well, we were planning on crashing a wedding in the east, and it seems to have appeared in front of us... All the more reason to disrupt political marriages if it’s linked to the party! Saturday morning starts like all others do for our brave heroes, with a hearty breakfast at a table in the closest thing we have to a home right now, the Affable Undulate, and a long discussion of what we are getting up to today. We have a wedding to crash, a meeting with our benefactor to attend, drugs to sell(???), typical day for the lads, really. Now, we know that we need to figure out where Allavara is actually being kept, and we’re waiting for night to rescue her, so discussion quickly turns to what to do about Guinevere Greysteel, our powerful councilwoman contractor. We have done jobs for her, sure, but we did kill Galen/The Wizard formerly known as Ketracel (at this point Cerna @pantographicclone, who had been off on Cerna Business, manifests behind the party and tells us that we could just kill them all) so maybe we don’t lead with that? Maybe we sell her the drugs? Ellie @xynnos wants to bury it in the forest to keep it away from everyone, but we all pinky promise not to drink the orc juice and let him have some when he wants to Get Feral. So we finish up with food and show up at the Greysteel manse in the wealthy district of Octin so to meet with Guinevere early in the morning. We’re all introduced and then she begins to ask us about our contracts, namely what happened in Ravenhome. Shura tells her that yes, another force of Warbreed were demanding tribute from the town in livery of green and purple, that of the Duke Fabron, and that we forced them to move on by beating their leadership in combat. Jawbones @darkseldarine mentions that they were summoning demons, to which Greysteel says “I might need to make up with my cousin if magic is involved.” Shura, being a dumbass without an off switch, ounce of charisma and no impulse control in situations Like This, asks “Who is your cousin?” every one of the party and players knowing damn well it’s the fucking corpse we buried in a shallow grave in Ravenhome after Rowan @krunk-mcdunk brained the poor fucker less than a week ago. Ellie quickly realises there’s no easy way to shut Shura up without cutting him off, so we’re stuck with this lie. You know the drill, “What’s your relationship with this dude?” “Oooooh he’s missing??? That sucks, man” “No we haven’t seen him!” Strangely enough, it’s not Shura who almost fucks us up at this part, but our lovable ranger Jawbones(Jawbones!) saying “Hey! Didn’t Rowan...see a wizard? And clobbered him??” Yet THAT doesn’t do us in either! What does is us talking about the orc juice and Shura lying through his fucking teeth and saying no. Greysteel:“Hand it over.” Shura: “And why should we.” Greysteel: “Well, name your price.” Shura: “We have a few vials left, alright, and we will hand it over on one condition. Our friend here, miss Naoise, is gonna need protection very soon, and she won’t be the only one. She needs to lay low, and we know the Greysteels can help us with that. If you want this potion, you will help us.” Greysteel: “Two vials for your protection, and you take another job, and you set up a meeting between me and the Kingless.” Shura: “Yeah that’s reasonable, but what’s the job? I’m not signing everyone up for it.” Greysteel: “I have intel on cults within the city.” Shura: “Sounds like my line of work.” Greysteel: “You’ll meet with my informant at 2, at this address. It’s possible this potion came from my cousin.” Greysteel tells us that the Baron and his entourage are staying at the Duke’s old castle, just outside the city. We get our pay for the contracts and move on. Some of the party go and say hey to the musketeers in their coffeehouse to tell them they have a meeting with the councilwoman, nothing really comes of that. Ellie and Cerna go to the library to see if Ellie can learn about the castle and any secret entries. So the rest of the day is basically relying on a Rowan/Jawbones stealth mission to figure out the defenses and state of the castle for the night operation we’re planning on pulling. Rowan and Jawbones manage to spot the tower Allavara is staying in while completely blanking on what the guards are up to. Jawbones also spots a room in strangely pristine condition not too far from the tower. The group meet up and discuss this and Ellie sends a message by way of bird to tell Allavara to prepare for a rescue mission, and OH YEAH YOUR WIFE ISN’T ACTUALLY DEAD :DDDD The team show up and avoid guards under cover of night to the base of the tower with Allavara. We discuss how we’re gonna get up there and down safely with Naoise’s wife and child, and eventually Cerna tells us he can spider climb up the tower with a rope! So we do that! And climb up! And get them out! Now this is where we have some things to talk about; we have a timeline that was kind of retconned because the decision the party reached was too impulsive for some of us. I’ll recount the story as we have decided it happened, not as it actually did, because this is revisionist history and you literally can’t fucking stop me. Allavara tells us she has heard strange noises from Fabron’s room down the hall, and has seen all manner of grim things surrounding the Duke. She notices the Wren necklace on Shura and tells us she fears he is a demon worshipper, or perhaps that he may even be communing with something grim right now. Some of the party decide to go with Allavara back to Octin, for her safety; Shura, Rowan, Jawbones and Cerna prepare to kill a cultist. We arrive, and he’s tranced out with occult knowledge and symbols lining the room in peculiar patterns. Out of his armour, with no guards left to protect him, Shura takes the Axe of Gonzo and decapitates Baron Fabron in one fell swoop. We turn the room, take the body and all valuables, and disappear into the night. Fuck that guy. End session. (I will mention for posterity that the way the Axe of Gonzo worked was that Shura could burn mental stats for a bigger crit range and extra weapon die on one crit. Auto crit on a sleeping target, and I rolled a crit anyway, coming to 8d12+2d6+9 because of Zealotry and Half Orc feats etc. This was supposed to be something of a combat encounter but for the second time in this game a named villain was killed in a single hit in their sleep.) We pick back up outside Octin where the group is prepared to split up just in case we have been followed; Naoise and Allavara go back to the Affable Undulate with baby Atticus, Rowan and Shura are headed for the Bloody Cup after a visit to church, Ellie and Cerna head to another bar and Jawbones goes off on her own for her own business. Naoise spends a night with her wife and kid at the bar, just catching up. Shura and Rowan show up at church and he goes in to check with Belruel, making sure that what they had just done was the right call. He feels a hand on his shoulder and that definitely lightens his mood because yeah, in that situation he knows he would have done it even if it wasn’t the right call. Belruel does not tell him if Fabron is linked to the cult Shura has dealt with in the past, so that’s rough, but no matter! Fabron had a dark longsword in his room, and this lad loves trophies, so in proper fashion, why not try and see what’s up with it in a church? In his little prayer circle, he tries to attune to the sword but it hurts him to do so, and then something strange happens. The metal creaks and takes on a lighter hue after burning red hot and literally screaming. Shura, and Ya Boi, being dumbasses, do not equate this to any real change, so he does not try and attune again in case it literally kills him. Rowan says her prayers to Winthrop the merry and laughs as Shura’s cursing at a sword across the room. The two of them go to the bar they chose, and a drunken exhausted Shura collapses in bed before he can attune to the sword. Jawbones (Jawbones!) makes herself less conspicuous and heads to a bar. She just listens in on the crowd, eats some stew, but there’s nothing too interesting; news hasn’t spread yet. One of her old friends lived here, so she talks to this lad Welrick, just checking in on an old friend. She asks for Arc, but there’s been no sign of him. In Arc’s room, the window is open and the room is empty, there is nothing interesting beyond a black rose coin. She pockets the coin but falls asleep as she’s waiting for someone to return. It’s from her pocket by the time she wakes up. Now Ellie and Cerna immediately head to a bar; Ellie tries to meditate and eventually he can sleep for a bit but the scars on his chest begin to open. Panicked, Ellie runs for the gates and out into the woods. Mr. Shiny has left him, his powers are fading and he is winded. Ellie lies down in a riverbed, as if embracing death, certain that Fyena, the pagan spring goddess who is all but confirmed to be living inside him has left, or is perhaps wounded? Cerna seems to have a nice night by himself, commenting on his weird fucking roommate. We all meet back up in the morning at the Affable Undulate; Jawbones and Ellie show up first and Ellie’s a bit fucking rocked by the events of last night. The rest show up not too long after, and Shura decides to attune to the sword; there is no psychic damage, so that’s neat! Fabron’s blade, once known as Barbspawn, has been reforged in the light of the church as a gift from Belruel to this boy; the sword is now Brightspawn. Cerna takes The Axe of Gonzo, and the team agrees to go and tell Greysteel she needs to help Naoise/Marcella and her family right now! We show up and Greysteel is understandably shocked to see Allavara here and requesting hiding, but she agrees to uphold the deal; we’ll be taking Marcella out for drinks later this evening, but she can stay here now. We also have something to tell Greysteel, and we have no idea how to break the news to her; Shura fumbles for words, until Rowan’s flair for the dramatics takes over, she billows her cloak, takes a bow and the decapitated body of Fabron rolls out onto her floor. She is none too pleased with this, although she’s kind of glad we didn’t tell anyone but her. The news can’t leave the room, though, and we’re not getting a pat on the back for it, which sucks. Oh well! But we leave the mansion and the wedding procession is... still happening?? We see carriages, and we see Fabron alongside his daughter? We see Allavara in a wedding dress? We know they’re illusions or body doubles, but still, why are they keeping up appearances? Wild. The contact is met, and enter @bluethegirl‘s new character! We show up at an apartment; the door is half open and the walls are lined with notes and scraps of paper. Lazing on a couch is a tiefling flipping through a book, with the cultist symbol of Arioch on a necklace. The investigator stands up, introduces himself as Ashe, and quickly notices Shura’s Wren necklace, tearing his own cultist one off with a strong “It’s not what it looks like!” End session.

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