#(its so hard to do that one folks i wanna be nice out of habit-)

[ask-spirit-sarv]

¥ @chaoticmultiverse 👀

Looks: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Personality: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Attraction: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Would they date them: yes | no Favorite thing about them: "I like how chill you are! You're fun to be around!" Least favorite thing about them: "Hm...You can be a bit much at times? But not in a bad way! It's just a lot-"

#🏩 // ic #💖 // ask #🍨 // sarvente #chaoticmultiverse #(👀👀) #(pulls something out of the air for the last one asdofisajd) #(its so hard to do that one folks i wanna be nice out of habit-)

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

HEY BESTIE ITS ME AGAIN! i was wondering if i could get a will request with angst. LOTS AND LOTS of angst about will and the reader seeming to always miss each other in sense of relationships and because of that the reader distanced themself from will so months pass by and they both are single then and they run into each other and eventually get into a fight bc he’s upset that they ghosted him and eventually have an angry love confession and happy ending?

thank u sm bff

YOU WANT ANGST, I"LL GIVE YOU ANGST...in a fairly decent amount cause this was hard to write for some reason🙃 sorryyyy @poulterfilms

~~~~~~~~~~

Why did life have to be so hard?

You watched as Will got ready for his date that night, giddy and excited to be going out, rambling on and on about how nice this person was, who he met a few days prior.

You just smiled and nodded along, pretending that your heart wasn't painfully throbbing with jealousy.

You hated this feeling, longing. It was strange, you never felt this way before with Will. You've been friends with him as long as you can remember, seen him have plenty of dates with other people. So why did you suddenly feel like you wanted him all to yourself? It wasn't like you at all.

"So, what do you think?" Will asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, slowly spinning around to show off his outfit.

You plastered on that same fake smile that you unfortunately got into the habit of doing nowadays. "You look great, Will. You always do." You didn't mean to sound so sad, but it came out that way and you internally cringed.

Will cocked his head with a confused grin. "You okay?"

You nodded your head eagerly. "Of course!" You stood up from where you sat and quickly adjusted the collar of Will's shirt, struggling to pull away when he smiled at you. "I always have to fix that damn shirt collar." You chuckled weakly, forcing yourself to take a couple steps back.

Will copied your chuckle, turning around to do a once over in his mirror. "What would I do without you?" He joked, but you frowned for a split second before shaking your head.

"Well, don't wanna keep the lucky date waiting, right?" You patted him on the shoulder, maybe a little too hard since Will rubbed his shoulder with a grimace afterwards.

"You are absolutely right. I'll be off then, night, love!" Will placed a quick kiss to your cheek, heading out of his house, leaving you alone with the ghost of the kiss lingering on your cheek. The innocent, and most importantly, friendly kiss.

You looked around the living room solemnly, looking to your feet to see the two pups you were trusted to take care of while the owner was out of his date. Welp, at least I have his dogs to share my misery with...

You had no idea how you let this happen. You've always seen Will as a friend, and nothing more. You've both hyped each other up when one of you scored a date. Will has seen you off to plenty of dates and never had a problem with it, so why couldn't you do the same for him?

Unbeknownst to you, Will actually has had similar feelings. He didn't know how it happened, but he developed strong feelings for you. He clearly knew you didn't feel the same, and he had to sit idly by as he watched you be in and out of relationships with people who weren't him.

He's never been one to get jealous, but he'd definitely be lying if he said he never was jealous of your partners. He wanted to be the one to hold your hand, he wanted to be the one to open doors for you, to be the one you smiled at when he wasn't looking. He decided to move on, even if it was the last thing he wanted. But his respect for you trumped his lust that he felt at the same time, he just wished he could turn his feelings off.

You decided to hole up in your apartment after Will came back from his date, the date that went "extremely well." The "he'd definitely be seeing this person again" date.

You couldn't say you were devastated, for obvious reasons. You didn't want to tell Will you had feelings for him, and you didn't want to be selfish. You always felt selfish nowadays.

You just felt like a burden.

It was hard hanging out with Will, always having to hear about his new partner, how they're so nice and kind and caring and apparently so fuckin' amazing...it made you want to vomit. It made you not want to hang out with him as much anymore, but thankfully, that decision was made for you. Will didn't have time for you anymore, he really wanted to make his relationship with this new person work, more than he wanted to keep your friendship strong, you thought.

Eventually, you just stopped trying to initiate conversations. Will would text you, all the time really, he'd just be too busy to see you. Between acting roles and sending time with his partner, you'd only be with him through text messages.

An epiphany struck you one day: you deserved better.

You knew you were right, and that's why it made your choice to painful. You had to cut ties with Will, but you had no idea how you'd do that without breaking down.

You took the coward's way out, at least, you thought it was cowardly.

You simply just stopped replying to his text messages. But once he started to text you messages like "can we talk?" you thought you might give him a chance. You said you'd do it tomorrow, then tomorrow turned into the next day, then a week passes, then a month. You stopped thinking about it, you didn't want to think about it, because every time you did, the urge to contact Will got stronger and stronger. You wanted to move on. You needed to move on. But, you never could get him out of your thoughts completely.

Months and months go by, and before you know it, it's Christmastime.

You'd decided to travel around after cutting off contact with Will, mostly just couch hopping with friends, exploring the area to get your mind off how heart broken you felt. It was a good distraction, for awhile. But now that Christmas was soon, you had to go back to your home town; you did miss your family quite a lot. But you did feel that similar anxiousness after coming back home, thinking about Will and the "what ifs." Will always loved spending time with his family during the holidays, and you knew he'd probably be in town.

Just going outside to check the mail was nerve wracking to you, but you chuckled bitterly at your paranoia, it's not like he was going to show up at your house out of the blue. He wouldn't do that.

Your family really wanted a Christmas tree, a real one. You tried to use your allergies as an excuse to just stick with an artificial tree, but your parents were dead set on having a real tree. It wasn't exactly a lie, you used to get real trees, you just couldn't be around one too closely or else you get into a sneezing fit. But you really just didn't want to be out in the town, just in case.

But your family dragged you along to help pick out a tree anyway, in the freezing cold.

You idly kicked some icicles that were formed on the bottom of tree branches, smiling subtly to yourself as you heard the crackle of the ice hitting the concrete. You looked over to see your family still trying to decide on what kind of tree they wanted, and you remembered how indecisive your folks were. You were gonna be there for awhile...

"Y/n?" As if you weren't freezing enough, the voice that you heard from beside you made a chill go up your spine, causing you to sink down more into your coat.

You looked to your left, unluckily for you, seeing your former best friend beside you, an unreadable expression on his face. "Will...? Uh, w-what are you doing here?" You weren't sure if it was the cold that made you stutter, or just the pure nervousness and almost fear that you felt.

Will uncomfortably shifted on his feet, taking a deep breath before answering. "My, uh, mum wanted to have a tree this year. I'm guessing yours did too?"

You nodded curtly. "Yep."

The awkward silence made you want to curl up into a ball and throw yourself off a cliff.

"We should probably talk." Will said.

"Uh," You nervously rubbed your hands together, "I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Why not?" He asked bluntly, his expression turning cold.

You sighed. "I...well, I have to help my parents get this tree so..."

"Fine. I'll come by later."

"Wait-"

"See you tonight." And with that, Will walked away in a hurry, not giving you the chance to refuse.

You bit the inside of your lip hard, a coppery taste coating the tip of your tongue when you explored the small dent in your mouth that you created from stress.

You figured this day would come soon enough. Karma's a bitch, as some say. You thought you'd have a bit more time to prepare yourself for a confrontation, but the universe decided to be a jerk and sucker punch you in the face with your regrets.

You went home, feeling like a knife was twisting in your gut as you helped your family set up your Christmas tree in the living room, constantly glancing at the clock every chance you could.

Eventually, your family decided to leave the house once more, having bought tickets to a play that night, which you politely declined to go to. You weren't interested in yet another retelling of the Christmas story acted out by little bratty children who couldn't remember their lines half the time. No, you have somewhat decent standards.

You just sat on the living room couch with your family pet, staring at the clock, seeing the hands move slowly until it finally reached nine o'clock. You untensed for a moment, thinking that maybe Will decided to not come over. The loud ring of the doorbell quickly squashed that idea.

You opened the door, not surprised to see Will on the other side, his cold expression unchanged from when you last saw him.

You said nothing as you moved aside, opening the door wider for Will as he walked in.

The air felt thick, like there wasn't enough oxygen for both of you to be in the same room. It felt similar to whenever you pulled your blankets over your head when you were little and afraid of the dark, thinking that nothing can hurt you if you were completely wrapped up in the comfort of your duvet, but never getting enough fresh air to keep those blankets over your head, eventually having to pull the blankets off to breathe. You really wished you had a blanket now...

"Well?" Will broke the silence, looking to you expectantly.

You shrugged slightly. "Well what?"

Will chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "You know what, Y/n." When you didn't reply, he continued. "You stop talking to me all of a sudden, for months, not even telling me why. I need to know why, I deserve an explanation."

You sighed, looking anywhere but at him. "I just...needed some time away..." What a fucking lie...

"Some time away, really? That's your excuse? We were best friends, everything was fine, so what went wrong, huh? Why did you just up and leave everything behind without telling me?" You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself as his voice got louder with every sentence. "Are you even listening to me? Do you hate me now, is that it? I don't know what I did, please, tell me." He pleaded.

"Will..." You whispered, finally looking to him to see unshed tears in his eyes. "it was me, not you. You didn't do anything wrong..."

Will stepped closer to you, his arms crossed. "Do you have any idea how much it hurt to be ghosted by the one person you thought cared about you the most? It really fucking hurt. And now, you're just standing here like you don't even care."

"I do care, Will." You said softly, reaching out to touch him but he quickly flinched away.

"Then why did you leave? I want the truth."

"I wasn't happy...with myself...with you." You started, walking over to take a seat on your couch. "I felt alone. You spent all your time with your partner, you rarely had time for me anymore."

"Wait, my partner?"

"Yeah...the beginning of this year, you started dating that person, I forgot their name..."

Will shook his head. "It didn't work out with them, I'm not seeing anyone, haven't for awhile. But that's not the point. Why didn't you just tell me that you felt alone? You know I would've made time for you if that's what you needed."

You felt like you wanted to scream, frustration starting to consume you, but you settled for a muffled groan. "It wasn't just because I felt alone..."

"Then what?"

Fuck it...

"Because I hated seeing you date other people. I absolutely hated it. And when you started gushing about how amazing this person was, I felt like I wanted to bash my head in with a hammer." Okay, maybe that was a little exaggerated, but you got your point across.

"You didn't want me to date other people?" Will's heart beat rapidly in his chest, just the thought of why you possibly felt that was making him anxious to ask, "Why?"

You were scared to answer, afraid of his reaction. What if he hated you? That would be the worst case scenario, you'd rather die than have him hate you. But, you did owe it to Will to tell him the truth. The unfiltered, honest truth.

"We've been friends for as long as I can remember. We always told each other everything." You smiled weakly. "We'd always be happy for each other whenever we went on dates and found people that made us happy. But...there was a point where I realized that no matter how many dates I went on with other people, I never truly found happiness in those people. Because, I always thought about someone else...you." You looked up at Will. "You've always been the one person to make me truly happy. And I finally figured it out, it's not because you were my best friend, it's because...you're the one I always wanted to be with, Will."

Will took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to take in your words. "That night, when I was about to go on that date, you weren't yourself. You looked sad..."

"I didn't want you to go. I wanted you to stay with me." You wiped away a few fallen tears with your sleeve, sighing tearfully. "I was being selfish...really selfish." You frowned.

Will carefully sat beside you, looking straight ahead. The red and green lights placed crookedly on the Douglas fir being one of the only light sources in the room, illuminating your tear ridden face and causing a reflective shine to Will's glassy sorrowful eyes.

"I had no idea." Will said, being the first one to break the silence yet again.

"That was kind of the point." You sniffled, curling your knees up to your chest.

"...I'm sorry."

You furrowed your brows, looking to Will in confusion. "Why are you sorry? I'm the only one who should be sorry."

Will shook his head. "No..." He laughed sharply, clenching his fists in his lap. "It's funny."

"What is?" You asked, trying not to sound offended.

"I've spend years trying to get over my feelings for you, and you tried to do the same. Guess I'm not as intuitive as I thought."

You silently gasped. "Will? You...? Huh?"

Will smiled weakly. "I only started dating other people because I was trying to push away my feelings for you, and of course, it didn't work."

"Will, if this is some joke-"

"It's not. Have I ever lied to you?"

"...no. You've had feelings for me this entire time? And I punished you for it..." You said as you felt the tears well up in your eyes again.

"No, Y/n, no. You had no way of knowing, just like I had no way of knowing how you felt about me."

"I'm so sorry, Will. I never should've left."

Will quickly grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "You're here now. It's okay...we're okay."

"Can you ever forgive me?"

Will smiled softly. "Of course. I've never been able to stay mad at you for long."

You frowned. "What if I deserve it?"

"No. No, you don't. It's all going to be okay."

You took a deep breath, trying not to burst into tears again as Will pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. "What now?"

"Maybe it's too early to ask but...we could go on a date." Will chuckled weakly.

You looked back up at Will, trying to hide your growing smile. "Really?"

"If that's what you want."

You looked at the clock. "It's getting a little late, I don't think that many places would be open right now. We could go out tomorrow?"

"It's a date." Will smiled.

You sighed. "I really wish I would've talked to you about this instead of running away..."

Will shook his head, bringing his hand up to gently caress your cheek. "I shouldn't have raised my voice earlier. So now we both have something we regret. But it's okay, Y/n. I felt like running away quite a few times myself whenever you went out with someone else...or just hiring a hitman or something."

You laughed genuinely, playfully pushing Will's shoulder. "I think my family is gonna be home soon."

"That's my cue to leave, I take it?"

You pouted. "I don't want you to."

"Well, hey, we'll see each other tomorrow." He smiled.

You walked Will to your front door, frowning as he opened it. "I never used to be the clingy type with anyone."

Will turned around to face you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in for a warm hug. "It's all going to be okay. We're gonna do this thing right."

You pulled away with a huff, looking deeply into his eyes. "I really want to kiss you right now." You giggled.

Will grinned, replying to your statement by leaning in, delicately brushing his lips over yours before fully placing them onto yours passionately. You could truthfully say that the kiss made you weak in the knees, it was everything you imagined it to be and more. It was intoxicating.

The kiss quickly got heated, and you didn't know if you'd be able to stop yourself. Will grabbed at your sides, trying to pull you even closer than you were already, eliciting a quiet moan from you when he gently pulled on the roots of your hair. But you finally forced yourself to stop, trying to catch your breath.

"Sorry." Will quickly apologized.

"I didn't want to stop." You snickered, running your hands through your now tangled hair. "We haven't even gone on our first date yet and I already want to rip your clothes off."

Will blushed and grinned. "Guess we'll just have to save it for tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow it is."

~~~~~~~~~

I had trouble writing this, if you couldn't already tell. Ugh, I have no idea why the reunion bit threw me off balance so badly

#will poulter #will poulter imagine #will poulter x reader

[tainted-wine]

okay but hawks with an s/o who works at a zoo in the bird wing as the on-call nurse or doctor and sometimes he swoops in for a lil chat or maybe a quick massage n a coworker will bring in a bird with a real injured wing and he’ll just be like “back of the line buddy they’re busy with me right now” or maybe he gets there one day while you’re attending to a couple birds so he’s the last one in line n he just goes up to a bird n asks “long wait time?” basically hawks is a hilarious mf.

(Yes, this is a regular waiting room filled with birds)

Aw man, Hawks was hoping to have you all to himself for a nice grooming session, the perfect way to wind down after a day of so much high speed flying. But he forgets that he’s not the only bird in your life. The several feathered folks surrounding him in this vet hospital were a clear reminder of that.

Ugh, there’s several birds ahead of him in appointments, so he might as well get comfortable. He’s not leaving this place without getting pampered.

There was an owl seated right next to him that was staring straight ahead, eyes looking unfocused.

Looks like a Great Horn. Hawks favored talking to owls that screech and shriek; they weren’t much different from his hawk calls and could easily be translated on his own. He wasn’t fluent in Hoot, but he knew enough to have a basic conversation. Softly clearing his throat, he greeted the fellow raptor. “Hoo! Hooo hoo hoooo? (Hey! Long wait time, huh?)”

The owl smoothly turned its head and blinked, its round golden eyes facing him...but not exactly looking at him. “Hoo hooo ho hoo. Hoo hooo ho hooo hoo. (Your accent is atrocious. It makes me want to cough up a pellet.)”

Hawks flinched. No need for the damn bird to be so harsh. He remained passive, his next series of hoots translating to, “Sorry, I know it’s a bit rough. So what are you here for?”

The owl turned away, idly moving its head around while the rest of its body remained completely still, like some automation. It hooted, “Here for an eye check. I am almost completely blind at this point. I honestly don’t know why the human still bothers.”

The response took Hawks back. “Oh, sorry about that.”

“It’s nothing,” it hooted. “I still have my ears, and it’s not like I do any real hunting nowadays. The humans insist on hand-feeding me everything.”

He chuckled at the owl’s clear dislike of being coddled, which happens to be what he was here for. “I know, relying on others is no fun. By the way, my name is-”

“Hawks. I know who you are.”

Well, he sure wasn’t expecting that. “You do? I...didn’t know I had any owl fans,” he hooted curiously.

The fluffy bird shook out its feathers. “Oh, I am not a fan. Your mate never stops talking about you. She makes you sound like the ultimate hunter, but I highly doubt that after hearing how loudly you came in. Your wings are as loud as a hummingbird’s. I hate those buzzing bastards and wish to eat them all whole.”

“Hey now! You wouldn’t think that if you ever saw me in action! OH WAIT.”

Low blow, and he admits that he deserved the hard bite into his arm in response. Damn, that really hurt.

“Your accent is too ridiculous for any insults. Well then, Hawks, do you think you’re that great just because you were born with a raptor’s wings? Tell me about these so-called villains that you face.”

Hawks straightened, wings giving small flaps in anticipation. “You sure? I have so many victories and captures under my belt that I’ve lost count, and I have a bad habit of going into detail,” he hooted smugly.

The owl shifted and settled into its own puffy plumage, closing its eyes. “No need to hold back. Humor this blind owl for a while.”

-----------

A pair of small tits sat on the arm of a chair, chirping and whistling as they watched the two predators converse.

“It is him,” one of them peeped angrily. “The winged human that smacked our cousin.”

The other tit bounced up and down in rage. “He’s got balls showing his face around here. The bastard has no respect for us songbirds.”

“Tell the others to watch his every move. I wanna know where he lives, where he eats...he doesn’t know who he’s fucking with.”

The tiny bird nodded. “I’ll take care of it, boss.”

Adorable beady eyes pierced the top hero with seething hatred.

“A real shame you don’t like our songs, Hawks. We’ve got a nice one planned for your funeral.”

#asks #hawks #CRACK #look i'm just having fun alright #Tit families don't forget

[yshai-tia]

. layercake

.LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

name: y’shai tia

“at yer service, mate. aye, though ye might wanna ask again inna moon ‘er so-- lil’ more papers ‘ta push through an’ the last bit’ll change there. still can’t gods damned believe it if y’ask me.”

eye color: blue (left), green (right)

“pree’ common combo fer seekers, y’know? green from me ma, can only guess the blue from dear ol’ pops. is tha’ how it works? i ain’ a genetics sorta guy.”

hair style/color: black, lackadaisical

“oi now, leas’ it ain’ a qiqirn’s nest. take care ov’ me braids though, if yer lucky jus’ might tell ye what they mean some day.”

height: 5 fulms, 9 ilms

“look, ‘m tall fer a miqo’te, thas’ gotta count fer somethin’. ain’ about the height, mate, s’all ‘bout how ye use what yer slapped with.”

clothing style: predominately black with abhorrent amounts of leather

“what, like either ov’ those things ‘er ev’r gonna go outta style? lookin’ good an’ bein’ durable, ye can’t really go wrong there. an’ it ain’t like ‘m allergic ‘ta change, startin’ ‘ta get used ‘ta this whole buttoned ‘ta the throat business. sorta.”

best physical feature: absolutely everything, take your personal pick

“c’mon now, lookit yers truly, notta shortage ov’ ‘bests’ in sight, choosin’ jus’ one would jus’ be cruel. thick thighs, thick arse-- lil’ thick in th’ head sometimes but, aye, leas’ yer lookin’ at somethin’ nice.”

.LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

your fears: physical restrictions, i.e. being bound, failing to protect those he loves and/or hurting them himself, powerlessness and ineptitude, particularly large coeurls

“cor, jus’ had ‘ta go from a fun question straight ‘ta this. lighten up, mate.”

your guilty pleasure: who’s guilty?

“ain’ nothin’ guilty ‘bout indulgence-- an’ i sure as shit don’ think ‘bout-- ... ah, fuck. guess there was one time... but that was long ‘go now, ain’ no point bringin’ it up.”

your biggest pet peeve: don’t get him started

“the fact that ul’dah exists, does that fuckin’ count? aye, yer right, ‘ta big ‘ta be a peeve. cor, i dunno, what ye cryin’ over spilt yak’s milk fer. i guess... aye, well, this is a personal one-like, but whiddle this fer a second; self-proclaimed sorts ov’ engineers who go off wif’out a single thought fer consequences. ... aye, aye, i hear ye, real fuckin’ bold fer someone like me ‘ta bitch ‘bout that, but, listen, a guy can change. it’s one thing ‘ta fuck ‘round with things ye don’ understand fer the sake of curiousity but ye also don’ see me gettin’ ass deep in allagan bullshit jus’ cause there might be a fancy toy there that tickles me boredom away fer a spell. shit’s got its conveniences, aye, not like i dunno the uses ova’ tomephone-- but most ov’ it is also fuckin’ dangerous, not sayin’ that it shouldn’ be explored proper, but not by some renegade blighter who fancies himself some magitek wiz so far up his own arse it makes yer local garlean look like a dozen o’ roses.

swear, ye got folks out here thinkin’ jus’ cause they can take apart a chronometer ‘er do some basic maintenance on a firearm that they’re ready fer solo-scavenging-- next ye know they’re wadin’ in aetherochemical spills an’ huffin’ ceruleum.

so that’s one fer the road there, ask me again sometime an’ i’ll enlighten ye ‘bout all the fuckin’ joys ov’ seeker racism ‘ve ‘ad the pleasure of gettin’ ‘ta know.”

your ambition for the future: much and more

“one day ‘atta time has always been me go of things, aye, gander though i ain’t without dreams, ‘specially now with tha’ stability in me life-- let me think ‘bout things that i nev’r really thought mattered ‘ta much ‘ta me ‘fore, the future an’ like.

firs’ thing that comes ‘ta mind would be me projects, bein’ able ‘ta have me own workshop has been both a blessin’ an’ a curse; blessin’ fer obvious reasons, curse cause ‘m startin’ ‘ta have one ‘ta many irons in the fire, if ye whiddle me meanin’. the biggest one though... even i gotta admit tha’ this is a generational project at bes’ outlook, but. workin’ ta’wards bein’ able ‘ta purify an’ clean the land ov’ the remnants of war-- speakin’ ov’ ceruleum spills an’ the like. with hope me husband says that we could maybe one day bring th’ elementals’ blessin’ back ‘ta tainted lands, thas’ his field of expertise at work there... jus’ bein’ able ‘ta rid the land ov’ imperial consequence is a worthwhile goal ‘ta me, i reckon.

oth’r than that.. there’s some silly things, aye, winna big marksman competition ov’ sorts, fish up a catch that no one’s ev’r seen ‘fore, get stronger... thas’ one thas’ nev’r changed, fer differ’nt reasons now mind.”

.LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

your first thoughts waking up: depends on the morning

“considerin’ the curr’nt season an’ all, most of me mornins’ start with me husband latchin’ on ‘ta me an’ not lettin’ me leave the bed at leas’ an extra bell fer the sake of warmth.

which is ‘ta say me first thoughts when wakin’ are pree’ fuckin good ones.”

what you think about the most: his husband, work, personal projects, underlying worries and responsibilities he’s not prone to publicly airing

“i ain’ exactly the ‘fee-low-sof-ick-al’ type, mate. keep it simple-like, thinkin’ ‘bout what’s in front ov’ me, the next step aft’r that.”

what you think about before bed: depends on the night

“‘pends on if ‘m too fucked out ‘ta even think ‘fore sleep takes me ‘er not. still, thoughts still mostly the same ‘gardless-- usually somethin’ long the lines of jus’ how godsdamned lucky i really am.”

you think your best quality is: once again.... take your personal pick

“well, ‘lready mentioned me ass, me thighs... if ye fancy scars me chest an’ back are pree’ damn nice too, me arms got some neat lookin’ ones lemme-- oh, y’don’t mean physical this time. cor, why didn’ ye say so.

shit, uhh... well, i ain’ the type ‘ta give up, come hell ‘er high water. shit tha’ might be a flaw but fuck it, it gets results, at leas’.”

.LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

single or group dates: single

“the hell issa group date? like a bunch’a folk all mated goin’ out? separate mated pairs? yer missin’ me here. only got eyes fer one, so the point is prolly moot.”

to be loved or respected: respected

“this issa easy one. trus’ me, know what is like bein’ ‘loved’ without respect, shit’s fun fer a spell, strokes the ego ‘til yer cummin’ yer own pride an’ fumes, but is all the same as a grog binge down at the Wench-- ev’ry single time ye’ll wake up feelin’ like shite an’ prayin fer death. ye can get mighty high on’a pain an’ pleasure cycle like that, aye, but ‘ventually the pain wins out.”

beauty or brains: they correlate

“me baby’s got both, so it ain’t like i gotta choose. ‘m a spoiled bastard, i know.”

dogs or cats: both

“cute buggers aren’t they, the both ov’ em. been at the mercy ov’ the teeth ov’ ‘em both too-- from coeurls ‘ta imperial trained bloodhounds. still, can’t rightly hate the animal fer instincts an’ trainin’, all jus’ tryin ‘ta survive.”

.LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

lie: naturally. but also poorly

“ain’ ‘xactly me strongest suit, fair, but ‘ll bullshit me way ‘round somethin’ if i gotta.”

believe in yourself: of course-- sincerity is a non-factor

“fake it ‘til ye make it, mate. call it cheesy writin’ on the wall ‘er what’ver ye like, shit does the job. no one gives a shit how ye feel ‘bout yerself-- jus’ fuckin’ tell yerself that ye got this an’ go. don’ look back.”

believe in love: he’s in it

“kinda hard ‘ta refute somethin’ ‘m experiencin’, y’know.”

want someone: every second of every day

“jus’ ‘cause ye already have it don’ mean that ye stop wantin it. aye, if anythin’ jus’ want ‘em even moreso. constantly, shit never stops. it’s fuckin’ heaven, lemme tell ye.”

.LAYER SIX: EVER?

been on stage: not professionally

“nothin’ like singin’ er dancin’, less ye count bar tables as impromptu stages.”

done drugs: not always consensually. but a moko edible every now and again isn’t such a crime.

“relax, ain’ like i make a habit ov’ it. special occasion, really. don’ fancy bein’ out ov’ it ‘ta of’en.”

changed who you were to fit in: naturally

“ye gotta if ye wanna survive beyond yer own comforts, mate-- that is if yer lucky ‘ta be born inta’ such ‘ta begin with. look, is called adaptin’, an’ if ye haven’ noticed we miqo’te are pree’ fuckin’ good at it. not even mentionin’ tryna fit in at home-- when i left it was change ‘er die; changed when i started learnin’ the common eorzean tongue, changed when i started dressin’ different, when i started learnin’ how ‘ta act, walk an’ talk so as ‘ta survive, hold me own. y’see it all the godsdamn time-- lookit every miqo’te who changed their name once they started livin’ in one ov’ the big cities, aye, not all ov’ ‘em do, but ‘nuff do ‘fer us ‘ta notice.

it’s adaption. it’s survival. hide parts ov’ yerself ‘ta preserve the greater whole. ain’t sayin’ it’s a nice thing tha’ we gotta do it-- but, aye, survival rarely is ev’r nice.

... if yer lucky though, if ye live long ‘nuff, ye can start reclaimin’ them hidden parts ov’ yerself back, aye, s’process.”

.LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

favorite color: black

“were ye expectin’ anythin’ else? ain’t gonna say no ‘ta gold either-- ‘specially of the rosey sort. they jus’ go ta’gether so well, y’know.”

favorite animal: jaguars, of course

“biased? me? ‘course not.”

favorite food: seafood in general, rustic homecooked meals, spicy food, way too sweet cream-filled coffee, nostalgic preference for almonds, coconuts, and fruit based desserts

“ye ev’r have those lil’ balls of cod deep fried in batter? could get meself sick on those buggers. too damn good. ‘specially if ye add a generous ‘mount ov’ dragon pepper ‘ta the fish ‘fore hand. ‘course if it’s good, fresh catch then ye can’t go wrong with simplicity neither, crab meat straight from the leg with no bells an’ whistles issa snack fit fer the finest.”

favorite game: card games, puzzles, anything that can spur fun competition, whether it be from hunting, to racing, to a snowball fight, isn’t adverse to the cheap thrill of betting on a race chocobo every now and again

“anythin’ can be good, fun competition if yer willin’ an’ rarin’, nothin’ like a lil’ friendly fire under yer arse ‘ta get the legs movin’ an’ cogs whirrin’.”

.LAYER EIGHT: AGE

day your next birthday will be: 28th day of the first umbral moon

“would be pree’ wild if me nameday wasn’ on.... me nameday.”

how old will you be: 29

“ugh, c’mon, i’m tryin’ not ‘ta think ‘bout it. knock it off.”

age you lost your virginity: between the ages of 19 and 21, he does not specify

“whas’ it matter? past is the past. leave it alone.”

does age matter: to an extent

“i ain’ no damn preacher, but it’s pree’ godsdamned obvious when someone is exertin’ power ov’r another. s’reason there be words like kid an’ adult. don’ fuckin’ be that person.”

.LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

best personality: bullheaded, smart, witty, compassionate, strong-hearted and strong-willed, brave, stubborn, impatient, and rather tactless

“maybe toss in a damn fine arse an’ voice like’a songbird-- wait, those ain’t personality traits?”

best eye color: rose gold

“bonus points if they gotta nice, natural glow ‘ta’em.”

best hair color: a warm rose peach with a streak of pale blonde

“what? ‘m a guy who jus’ knows what he likes. an’ i like what i like, cuff me if issa crime.”

best thing to do with a partner: exist with them in the entirety of life’s capacity

“call me fuckin’ sentimental, but learnin’ ‘ta fuckin’ live, really godsdamn live, with ‘em rath’r than jus’ survive... can’t fuckin’ be beat, jus’ can’t. shit’s golden, can’t wait ‘ta do it ev’ry single day on this star ‘til me times’ up.”

.LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

i love: “me husband.”

i feel: “pree’ chuffed, might go fer a nap.”

i hide: “poorly. mean have ye seen me, mate? ain’t easy hidin’ when yer this big. less’ maybe was in a house built with roes in mind.”

i miss: “me ma. aye, still lot’sa things that make me miss home, wouldn’ change where i am now fer the world, mind.”

i wish: “... fish. er, sorry, mind blanked there. they rhyme. been at sea fer the past few days now.”

tagged by: @ffxiv-sunderedsouls​ tagging: this is a stupidly late response so not sure how alive this particular meme is still but, here’s the deal; you wanna do this? do it and tag me THAT WAY i’ll know in the future to tag you in other things, good deal, right? right?!

#.memes #.sun kissed panther || y'shai #shai really out here like #whatever nothing bothers me #But Actually #And Another Thing #fuck this and that and the kitchen sink actually #what a boomer #for all he's grown he still never shuts up #sorry for the long post ;;;

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Fourteen

Previous Chapter HERE

Warnings: Language, NSFW Language

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Note: Apologies, this is a repost from yesterday for reasons I won’t go into now. i hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Fourteen

Sarah jostled with the mail as she entered their building, trying hard not to knock over the newest fresh plant currently adorning the entrance. They usually took it in turns to handle the post and whatever parcels the Supervisor had signed for that day but she was starting to feel a little short-changed as Shanna had consistently more post coming her way these days. Sarah realised she needed to get out more. Carting everything up the stairs was starting to become its own workout. Today’s treasures involved two Nasty Gal packages, a package from Pottery Barn, a box from Amazon, and what appeared to be a free sample of a Louis Vuitton fragrance. Sarah might just keep that last one to herself.

Jocelyn had sent another care package of sorts her way but it only served to remind Sarah that she had not called her folks in over a week. Ever since the accident, Jocelyn had been so consumed with worry that she had taken to sending Sarah articles ripped form magazines and gift cards for relaxation therapies. Despite Sarah’s many protests to the contrary, Jocelyn was sure Sarah was struggling with some form of undiagnosed PTSD. She’d read about it in a magazine. “If affects upwards of half a million American every year, honey.”

After successfully dodging the neighbour’s schnauzer, she eventually reached their floor and was just about to turn her key in the lock when the door swung wide open. Before she had time to react, she was brought face to face with a stressed-out Shanna, hair dripping wet from a shower. Not her favourite Shanna it had to be said. Not even in the Top Ten.

She grabbed Sarah by both shoulders. “I don’t know what I’m going to wear, Sarah! I’ve got less than an hour!”

“And hello to you, too!” Sarah smiled broadly, almost comically so, before Shanna lowered her head in embarrassment and moved out of the way so Sarah could physically get into her own home. She held the packages up. “Maybe there is something in here?”

Shanna shook her head. “No, they’re more summery. More formal.” She’d started fluttering around Sarah in a panic. “Do you still have that leather midi skirt? Do you think I could fit into it?”

“Uhh yeh it’s in the back of my closet somewhere.” she remembered. “Might be a bit warm, though? What are you gonna wear with it?”

“Well it’s a punky kind of bar, think it has live music and stuff so I thought maybe that Rolling Stones t-shirt and the maroon boots? Keep my hair down and casual?”

“So basically all of my clothes?” Sarah retorted. Shanna pressed her hands together in prayer and gave her the best pitiful smile she could manage, one she knew Sarah couldn’t resist. Shanna seemed to genuinely like this guy and if this guy was as charming and as smart as she told her he was, Sarah was sure she would like him, too. Hell, he’d be best friends with Scott and Chris in no time so long as he enjoyed football, Sam Adams, and didn’t put points on Shanna’s licence.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll see what I can pull together. Do you wanna borrow that heart necklace of mine? If you’re wearing your hair down, it’s probably best you avoid wearing earrings unless you want me to cut you out of them again.” Sarah shouted as she walked into her room unaware that Shanna had followed her closely behind.

“Oh god I hadn’t even thought that far. You know what, I might just cancel. This is just too much right now and I’m not even sure if he really likes me as anything more than a friend.” She feigned a dramatic flop onto Sarah’s bed, one arm landing across her forehead. Sarah delved through her closet to locate the desired items. If Shanna was threatening to cancel the date already, it must be serious.

“How many of you are going to this club?” Sarah asked, emerging from the closet doorway.

“Don’t know. Think three or four from my department and another couple from his?” she responded, hopelessness evident in her voice. Shanna never did well with vagueness where guys were concerned; everything had to be black and white with her.

“Come on, you’ve still got time.” Sarah encouraged as she carried some clothes and a couple of pairs of boots towards the bed. “Dry your hair and we’ll figure this out, OK?”

“Have I told you how much I love you lately?” Shanna pouted and Sarah tried to shrug off the pit growing in her stomach from her words. Shanna used every ounce of energy she could muster to get up and drag herself back into the bathroom leaving Sarah shaking her head.

It was only a rare occasion when Shanna took less time getting ready in the bathroom. Sarah had fond memories of shouting through the door back when they were at college and deciding to move in together required a complete 180 degree shift in her expectations. Still, in less than half an hour, here she emerged fully dressed, primer and foundation applied, and hair dried accordingly. It was a miracle of epic proportions and if she hadn’t shoved some false eyelashes into Sarah’s hand, Sarah would have snapped a photograph to send to the family as evidence that their little girl was growing up.

Thanks to her professional, steady hand, Sarah was always the eyelash-fixer among their group. While fixing a couple of lashes to the corners of her eyes, Sarah’s phone buzzed. It buzzed a couple more times in quick succession and she would have managed to ignore it had it not been for Shanna’a roving eye.

“Looks like someone wants you.” she murmured, trying her hardest not to move as Sarah held the glued lash in place with some tweezers.

“It’ll just be Audrey probably.” Sarah responded in no rush to check for herself, keeping a firm hold on what she was doing.

Shanna tried glancing to her side one more time to catch who it was but couldn’t quite make it out. It buzzed again. “I’d hate for you to miss out on a date with Greg on account of helping piece my pathetic love life together. Oooh maybe we could double-date!”

Shanna’s exclaim nearly caused Sarah to lose her grip on the tweezers but a sharp intake of breath convinced Shanna to give up the inquisition. “Sorry. Sorry.” she held her hands up as an apology before feeling Sarah’s hands relax as she moved across to the other eye.

Sarah was pleased to see Shanna eventually leave their apartment. Not because she wanted the peace particularly but just because it was nice to see her get excited over a guy that wasn’t Ben. She looked gorgeous, too. Sarah was quite proud of her work. If it wasn’t to be a proper date, it definitely would be after tonight. Robbie would be an absolute fool to miss out.

It was only when she slumped dow onto the couch and spent the next hour or so flicking through television channels that she remembered her phone had buzzed earlier on. She reluctantly peeled herself off the sofa and retrieved it from where it had originally landed on her bedside table. Honestly, it was like Shanna had taught her nothing.

From just two messages, Chris had attempted some mild flirtation with her before asking her if she knew what in God’s Name Penhaligon’s was.

Sarah 8.19pm: Perfume I think. Pretty old school brand. Why?

Chris 8.23pm: Mom wants it for her birthday. Never heard of it before. Scott thought it might be some kind of scarf??

She googled the name to make sure. Last thing she wanted was to end up ruining Lisa’s birthday celebrations with a present she absolutely did not want. Her birthday was something she took with increasing seriousness as each year passed by and her children and grandchildren grew older in front of her eyes. There was always a party of sorts, a massive cake, perhaps a theme, and a “suggestion list” for possible gifts. Well, they say “suggestion” but rarely did anyone dare deviate from “the list”. Sarah hadn’t yet considered buying a present but if Chris was already looking, she would no doubt need to catch up.

Sarah 8.34pm: Yep, pretty certain it’s a perfume. Pretty pricey. Good shout.

Sarah started scanning through her phone as another couple of messages caught her eye, some she had accidentally missed from earlier in the day. One from Audrey. One from Greg that she was not expecting.

Greg 7.02pm: Great news! 29th is set up. All you need to do is say the word! Don’t know how long I can hold the spot open so let me know as soon as you can. Have a great evening x

It took her a moment to register what he was talking about.

Chris 8.37pm: Cool THX What are you wearing??

Sarah stared down at the phone. She felt light-headed. There was far too much going on for this time of the day. She wiped at her forehead with her sweater sleeve and took a deep breath.

Sarah 8.41pm: You wouldn’t be interested lol

Chris 8.42pm: try me..........

He had a surprising habit these days of cheering her up.

Sarah 8.46pm: Nah I look a mess. Get out while you can.

Her phone started ringing almost as soon as she’d pressed ‘send’, Chris’ name flashing on her screen. She contemplated not answering now that her mood had taken a turn but she knew he would work out something was wrong and immediately dive over.

“Hey,” she answered, trying for a jovial tone but coming up just south of delirious.

“Hey you,” he smiled through the phone, happy to hear her voice. “In all the years I have known you, Bernette, not once would I describe you as looking like a mess.”

She laughed down the line. She made the right decision.

“...you are far too cute to ever be a mess. Do you know that? Like, I can already picture you with your sweats on, your hair tied up, soft skin...” he trailed off with a low sigh that she was sure was filthier than he intended it to be. “Man, that really does something to me.”

“You really know how to charm a girl. Have you figured this Penhaligon’s thing out yet? Was I right?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

She laughed again. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m not great with flirting over the phone. You should know that by now.”

“Then do it with me in person.” he proposed as if it was the easiest solution in the world. As if she wasn’t going to be distracted with thoughts of work and studies enough to not focus on him entirely. And he didn’t deserve to be second best.

It would have been all too easy to allow him to come over. Forget about overthinking things again. There truly was no one better at making her feel good about herself these days. Like, honest, through-the-bone good about herself, whatever that entailed. Goosebumps raised on her skin at the thought.

“I’m pretty whacked to be honest and...”

“What’s going on? Are you feeling alright?” he asked, concern evident in his tone. Whatever he had been pottering about with in the background had stopped all of a sudden.

“Yes! Yeh, I’m fine. Just...I dunno, boring. Plus, it’s Friday night! You should be out with the guys or whatever. Shan said Scott is having issues with Zach again. Is he OK?”

He laughed at her second lame attempt to deflect. He knew something was going on and he knew she knew he wouldn’t give up easily.

“Is Shanna there?” he asked.

“No, she went out with some friends.”

“So why don’t you ask me to come over and I’ll make you feel better than fine?”

She was lucky she was sat down or that her legs were crossed underneath her as she lounged on the couch, her back against the arm rest. His tone was causing her to feel things she shouldn’t be focussing on. What must it feel like to always be confident of your effect on people?

“Do you wanna come over?” she asked, treading lightly, not entirely anxious should he decline.

“I’ll be there in twenty.” He ended the call almost as abruptly as he had dialled it.

She remained where she sat for a moment, Greg’s text message still lighting up her screen. She wasn’t expecting for things to suddenly be so easy for her and it was strange how opening herself up to more possibilities could cause her to feel so immobile.

She would need to move at some point and as a helpless and as confused as she now felt, she knew it would look far too obvious to Chris if she bid to make herself up. She also didn’t really have the energy to do so. Lord, Chris really should have taken the out when he had the chance.

“Have I just walked into a teenage girl’s bedroom?” Chris asked, taking a look around as he entered the apartment not long afterwards. He clearly found the scene amusing although Sarah couldn’t under stand why. It was partly Shanna’s home after all. He should be used to girly mess. “What’s going on?”

“Shan has a date. I was helping her to get ready.” Sarah replied, humourously holding up the hairdryer like a trophy before dumping it back in her bedroom. “Sort of, actually. She doesn’t quite know if it’s a date date or a friend date.”

“I was told those didn’t exist.” Chris smirked, reaching for a bottle of water from her fridge.

“Well, she’s dressed up for one. Looks gorgeous.”

“I think you look gorgeous.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Chris, you don’t need to make any more effort, OK? You’re already in the apartment.”

“I think it bears repeating is all.”

He swallowed half the bottle of water before fixing her with a semi-quizzical stare. He tried to figure out what was going on as he watched her potter around the kitchen table, swiping something away into a cupboard, phone grasped in her hand. “What’s going on? You sounded weird on the phone and now you look like it as well.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” she answered far too quickly and tried to shrug it off but his body language told her he wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t sure what was bothering her more in this moment; him knowing her too well, or that he knew he knew her too well.

“OK, alright, well, it’s Friday night and I’m happy just hanging out and doing whatever but you can also talk to me as well. I’m not a monster.”

“It was her turn to look back at him, unsure of her next move or indeed his. she wondered if he was very likely regretting his decision to meet her now when twenty minutes in the opposite direction would take him to one of his favourite downtown dive bars. Instead, he rested against the side of the kitchen doorway, arms folded, a softness still present in his facial expressions. He seemed hesitant of what to say and she didn’t like the slight awkward air surrounding them. She didn’t want to venture into work-territory either.

“Do you want me to go, Sarah?”

She looked back up at him after a short spell spent staring down at her feet. “No. I don’t want you to leave. I’m just...there’s something...” she paused to re-evaluate her words. “You know what, it’s find. It’s nothing major. Of course I’m glad you’re here now.”

He pushed himself off from the counter and moved towards her, accepting of the greeting smile now covering her face, the bottle of water still in his grip. “Cool. Shall I follow your lead then, or...?”

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” she suggested, more casually than he would have liked. She didn’t know what to say to him now that all of her brain space was taken up with possibilities and wanting to call Audrey with the news. Chris hadn’t factored in watching a film but she seemed like she wanted a little peace and quiet and he had pretty much dived into the apartment as soon as she gave him the green light, eager as he was to see her without threat of Shanna walking in at any point.

“Movie sounds good.” He bobbed his head in agreement, content in their surroundings for now.

*

At some point towards the end of Searching, Chris quietly excused himself to go to the bathroom. Realising something was about to happen and not wanting to have to explain it to him after he returned, Sarah put the film on pause and headed into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She had held him at an arm’s length for most of the night, the couch seeming longer somehow, but was now feeling a slight chill despite the thick sweater reaching midway down her thighs. He would no doubt have been cosy to snuggle up to but she was still pondering Greg’s message and couldn’t concentrate on much else.

Her demeanour hadn’t gone unnoticed by Chris. A couple of times he caught the glare from her phone screen illuminating her face from below and wondered who had gotten her attention this evening. He stopped himself from making an obvious joke and was disappointed that she hadn’t noticed him glance across at her several times during the movie. He wasn’t much interested in watching it. Telling the truth, he’d seen it via a DVD screener Matt had sent him months earlier but she’d mentioned she was looking forward to watching it and in all honesty, he had figured they would curl up together and he would have still gotten something out of it.

“Chris? Do you want a cup of tea?” she hollered from the kitchen doorway. No response for what seemed to be a long, long minute. She switched the kettle off and began pouring him one anyway. She could always drink two if he didn’t want it.

“Chris?” she shouted again.

She walked into the lounge to place the cups down and clocked the bathroom door ajar and seemingly empty. Maybe he left without telling her. In all fairness, she wouldn’t have been surprised or annoyed. She’d barely given him a moment of attention for the last two hours.

She wandered slowly down the hallway first passing Shanna’s bedroom before reaching her own and finding him stretched out across the bottom of her bed. She giggled and leaned on the side of the doorway. He looked rather comfortable. A little too comfortable. Maybe he wanted some company?

“What are you up to, Evans?”

He tilted his head up to find her standing there. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice I was gone.” He leaned up further and rested on one arm to fully take sight of her. His eyes appeared a little dopey, a thing that always seemed to give away his nefarious intentions. From the angle he was now lying in, the size of his bicep looked ridiculous. It could not have been an accidental move and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t working for her.

“Are you bored? You can absolutely go if you have a better offer, I promise I won’t mind.” she offered by way of an apology but he stayed looking at her, not moving or responding to her offer. Being caught under his glare like this was unnerving to say the least. His hair looked a little messy from where he had been lying down yet he still made zero effort to move at all.

“I’m not bored.” He finally spoke, sincerity lacing his voice. “Are you? You seem distracted tonight.”

She didn’t know how to respond except to say he was right and to apologise again. She hadn’t figured out what to say to Greg yet so explaining her thought process to Chris wasn’t going to get her very far. It was times like this, when he was looking at her like that, that she wished she had the confidence to try and shut him up the old-fashioned way.

“Come here...” It was barely a whisper and she would have doubted he had spoken at all if it wasn’t for the hand he was now holding out towards her. He didn’t blink once.

She couldn’t refuse him and moved slowly to stand in the middle of his now-parted legs hanging off the end of the bed as he sat up. She watched as he closed his eyes when he felt her fingers smooth through his hair. There was something so calming about her touch, the deliberate graze of her nails sending little shocks down his spine. He wasn’t normally fussed by a woman playing with his hair even if occasionally he liked it when they pulled on it but something about her slow, tender touch was unlike anything he had felt before.

He moved his hands to the side of her thighs before pulling her legs down to either side of him. “I love looking at you from here.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist making sure she couldn’t get away from him.

She moved in to kiss him, softly at first before she felt his tongue glide along her bottom lip, a wordless request for her to open up. He paused for a second, taking her in while she caught her breath before kissing her deeper than before. She pulled his t-shirt up from the hem and he reached up over his back to grab it and whip it off in record time. Not one of his proudest moments, it caught on his watch as he tried and failed to fling it to the side of them and he made a mental note to try that move again when he felt her chuckle against the side of his neck. He didn’t much mind being a dork in front of her. She knew he wasn’t as cool as he made himself out to be.

His hands found their way into her hair as he caressed the strands out of her face. He loved how silky it felt between his fingers and how faintly it smelled of coconut, her signature smell by now. Her hands gripped his wrists before slowly moving up his biceps and grasping at his shoulders while he pulled her down onto him to allow her to feel how hard he was becoming from her touch. He wanted to know she was only thinking about him. She felt him push up into her core and arousing her even more. His breaths were getting shorter while his hands moved down her sides in an attempt to hook into her leggings and drag them down and off her body. She moved a hand away from his shoulders to help him with his mission but a tapping sound soon broke her from her reverie.

“Wait.” she was still holding on to his arms to steady herself until things went quiet and his hands froze on her waist. Their breathing levelled out quickly and Chris threw her a confused look. “Do you hear something?”

“What?” He gasped. “No, nothing.” He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her back down to kiss him hard. His hands firmly gripped her ass until she was putting pressure back where he wanted it. She quickly forgot what she was thinking about while he moved her slowly along his growing length. He moved one hand up her side, dragging her sweater up with it so his fingers could finally feel her skin underneath. Her hands were pushing down on his chest a bit harder and in a moment that took her by total surprised he quickly flipped them over so she was lying underneath him, completely encased by his strong forearms.

Kissing her was so easy he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it sooner. Her lips were soft, some of the softest her had ever touched. He figured she kissed like she wanted to be kissed, and he wanted to kiss her back like no boy had ever kissed her before. It was soft and hot and breathy and turning him on immensely. Neither was trying to win a battle but rather seeking and enjoying their closeness, the sharing of this one single sensation, outside world be damned.

The prospect of being uninterrupted was giving him all kinds of ideas. Her breathing was hot against his skin and he knew she was in the zone with him. They’d never particularly been slow and up until this point, he hadn’t much minded but he knew there was some part of her she was holding back and honestly, it was thrilling to him that he was determined to figure her out.

Pinning her underneath, one hand reached down and grazed the inside of her thigh. A little more pressure just over her clit caused her breath to hitch with a sudden squeak ever so slightly until they smiled back into their kiss, tongues massaging together. Honestly, he could carry on doing this for hours if he knew for sure there would definitely be another time they had this opportunity.

She opened her eyes to find him resting so close above her and evidently relishing the way she was lightly tickling the back of his neck with her fingers. Another languid kiss followed before he caught the side of her neck between his teeth and pushed himself against her core, her wetness increasingly apparent to him. She was growing accustomed to his need to tease her like this that she almost missed the scraping sound that had returned, only this time it was louder and sounded like it was coming from just down her hallway. She would have loved nothing more than to continue focussing on the hot breath now ghosting across her neck and shoulders but, panicking, she grudgingly pushed him off her.

“Fuck, what is that?”

Helpless and slightly dazed, all he could do was watch her get up from the bed to stand by the door. With an ear close to the gap, she listened out for another sound. Quieter than before, she swore she heard what sounded like shuffling followed by something being dropped on the ground.

Spying him about to protest, she shook her head. “Nope. Nope, that’s definitely something.” She proceeded to tiptoe out of her room and down the hall towards the kitchen, her bare feet treading ever so lightly and managing to dodge the one creaky floorboard. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find but felt a brief surge of confidence knowing the vision of Captain America might alarm whoever was attempting to break in to her home and presumably try to murder them both. He was 6 foot and built like a tank, he could absolutely save them both if push came to shove.

Of course, no one was there that she could immediately see. Maybe something had fallen off the wall instead, or perhaps had been knocked over by a strong breeze coming in via the open window in the lounge? Maybe she was hearing things after all or maybe it was a burglar but they got startled and ran away when they heard footsteps inside. Maybe it was just their neighbour moving around next door but it sounded a little too close for that. She resorted to the only thing she could think of in that moment and picked up a spatula just in case.

Chris was reluctantly putting his t-shirt back on when he followed quietly behind her, shaking his leg to relieve some of the tension in his boxers. Something banged again but this time she was sure it was coming from outside of her front door. He could now hear it as well but wasn’t entirely sure what she was hoping to accomplish with a plastic spatula in her hand.

She held her finger up to her lips to stop him from making any noise and peered through the peephole. She couldn’t see anything. Gingerly, she decided to open the door and jumped backwards when there, on the ground hunched up and leaning against the door frame, was a rathe intoxicated Shanna. Her bag had been emptied in a hurry like she’d been trying to locate her keys, and her coat was falling off her shoulders. She was half-asleep.

Chris snorted from somewhere close behind Sarah unable to contain himself, instantly familiar with the view in front of him. Sarah exhaled with some kind of relief that they were safe from a mass-murderer.

“I don’t believe it...” she spoken quietly.

“I do!” Chris could barely stop the laughter coming out now.

She and Chris moved to help her into the apartment, each grabbing her under one arm. Chris bared the majority of her weight while Sarah carried her bag and as a many contents as she could find. They managed to manoeuvre her into her bedroom where she promptly fell forward, head first, onto her bed,

“Fuckin’ waster,” he laughed heartily before Sarah punched his arm to stop him  from waking her. the room fell silent for a moment before the unmistakeable sound of Shan snoring took over. Chris closed the door behind them before following Sarah to the kitchen where she collected the remaining items that had fallen out of her bag. Picking up her phone, she checked for scratches.

“Well at least she didn’t lose it this time,” she held up the mobile to him but noticed he couldn’t stop grinning. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” he shook his head. “I just wish I’d taken a picture of her. Scott would have a heart attack. Always told her she couldn’t handle her drink!”

“i don’t know how you’d explain getting hold of a photo of her.”

“Oh yeh, good point.” he chuckled in reponse. They regarded each other for a moment, Chris clearly hopeful they could pick up from where they left off.

“I think you should go,” Sarah thought apologetically.

He paused before answering, expecting her to have been joking. “Why? She’s passed out on her bed. She’ll be asleep for hours. Do you have any idea how many times I have seen her like this?”

“Have you any idea how many times I have seen her like this? She’ll wake up in the middle of the night and get into bed with me and it’d be a lot easier to handle if I didn’t have to explain to her why her bother was also there.”

“Sarah, we could throw a rave and she wouldn’t wake up.”

He was making no effort to move, instead fixing her with a stare waiting for her to recognise how ridiculous she sounded. His hands pinched at his hips and he looked a foot taller than before

“Seriously, Chris, you’re just going to have to leave.”

He took a couple of steps towards her, bare feet padding along the hard, cold floor. “I haven’t see you all week.” He moaned, hands reaching out for her hoping the memory of where they had been would be enough to convince her he should stay.

“That’s not true. You saw me the other day.” It was a weak response. Even she knew that.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

She offered back nothing. She had no response. He was disappointed and equally as frustrated with his lack of a decent comeback. He should definitely stay. He should be rocking her world right this moment and whispering filthy things into her ear but instead, all he could do was stand there and shake his head in defeat. When he made eye contact with her again, she looked somehow smaller in some way and he found it hard to continue being frustrated with her. He understood what she was doing as much as he didn’t want to.

Resigned, he shuffled towards her and embraced her in a hug. She felt him semi-hard against her tummy, briefly doubting her choices. It stirred something exciting inside her to think she could make him feel that way and mentally chastised Shanna for cock-blocking her. She felt bad for kicking him out like this.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” she whispered.

He loosely pulled away from their hug and looked down at her. He playfully raised an eyebrow and looked down at her lips, still pink and swollen, before chastely planting a kiss on them.

“I am absolutely going to hold you to that.”

*

Shan finally made an appearance the following morning looking like death warmed up. She’d somehow managed to remove her clothes but had a pyjama top on backwards and her hair was sticking out in all directions. She had Sarah’s expert eyeliner and a false lash smudged down one cheek.

Sarah was eating breakfast and checking the news on her phone when she saw the creature from the black lagoon emerge into her kitchen. Stifling a laugh at the sorry sight standing before her, she felt a pang of sympathy seeing every step cause her pain. Shan just pouted at her before taking a seat at the kitchen table, resting her forehead in her hands while Sarah fixed her a glass of juice and some aspirin. She took it gratefully before groaning.

“Remind me never to do shots again.” she stressed. Sarah knew it wouldn’t last, not with that Boston blood coursing through her veins. “Was Chris here last night?”

Sarah froze, a sudden ring clouding her ears. “Erm, no, he wasn’t.” She turned to put her bowl in the sink and tried to hide any blushes. She didn’t know who felt more like shit in this exact moment.

“Oh I could have sworn I heard him is all.” Shan said, more to herself than to anyone else. “God, it’s good he wasn’t. He’d have a ball game seeing me in that state. How awful was I?”

“Not very,” Sarah lied again.

“How did I even get home?” she asked, trying to piece together the flashes of memories that kept racing through her mind.

“Um, I think your friends dropped you off in a taxi and you somehow managed to get up the stairs but then I guess you couldn’t find your keys...?” Shan managed a puzzled look. “You were slumped against the front door.” She refilled her glass with juice. “You’ve been in bed for, like, twelve hours.”

“Shit, we must have started early.”

“Well it happens to the best of us.” Sarah sat next to her and pushed a loose piece of hair out of her sweaty, red face. “Your hair looks OK! I don’t think there is anything stuck in it this time.”

Shanna laughed for the first time before her head panged in revenge.

“So? Did anything happen with Robbie?” Sarah asked, a cheeky grin crossing her face. By the look on Shanna’s face, the answer was a resounding “no” but it could very well have been the alcohol-induced hurricane currently running though her head.

“Well, it was a great night regardless. You’d love the bar. I think we ran into that guy, the porter from your hospital? Pat something? Did you know he plated in a band?”

“Um, no, not at all. Wow.” Sarah was trying to picture Patrick with an array of different instruments to see which suited him before remembering the awkward time he attempted to drum Phil Collins’ ‘In The Air Tonight’ with two scalpels. “Actually, he does seem the type. I’ll have to let Audrey know. She’ll love this.”

“He sounded pretty decent. It’s not just punk music or heavy rock. I think we should all go one night. Maybe as part of Mom’s birthday week.” Shanna perked up a little, proud of the idea that had materialised in her head against all odds. “It’s amazing what people can do when they put some effort in. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Where you might be now if you just took a chance.”

Following a night of heavy drinking, Sarah wasn’t expecting such an existential conversation at this point in the day. But it was a good point regardless. She grabbed her phone from the table and typed out a message to Greg.

“Yes. I’m in.”

*

#chris evans #chris evans fic #evans fic #chris evans x original female character #sarah bernette #clear the area

[unicyclehippo]

beaujester star wars au..... beau is a cocky rebellion pilot that’s a little Too good at dodging and firing shots, and jester is a princess-turned-junior senator-turned rebellion supporter. they are both force sensitive and kiss

The star base has been overrun by decorations and muted music, louder toward the centre of the hanger and half-volume at the edges, where a few hand-picked individuals - volunteers, probably - are keeping an eye on the alerts still. Colourful lights spin over the ceiling in programmed patterns that put Beau in mind of the star maps she reads on a daily basis, and the longer she looks, the more she starts to think they actually are star maps. Blown out to make ‘em look all pretty, though. That’s what decorating on a tight budget looks like, though. 

She’s leaning against the landing gear of her fighter, largely hidden by the shadows of her wings, and doing her utmost to strike a balance between looking incredibly cool but incredibly unapproachable whenever anyone looks her way. It’s hard, and she’s pretty sure she just looks injured, but no one has come over to talk to her and that’s a win in her book. No one, that is, save for Fjord.

Fjord Tusktooth - tall, green, surprisingly lean for an orc, tusked as the name suggests and a damn good pilot, her Captain actually - sidles over, arms raised over his head as he steps through the dancing crowd. He tries his best not to let the drinks spill but he’s licking what looks like jet oil off his hand when he reaches her. 

‘That better not be mine, Cap.’

He rolls his eyes. ‘Can humans drink strick-oil?’

‘No.’

‘Then it’s not yours, is it? What’s wrong with your face?’

‘What? Nothing! Give me that.’ 

It doesn’t smell like a drink; it smells like it’ll strip her innards of anything and everything useful and replace them with alcohol. Luckily, that’s exactly how she likes her drinks. Taking it from him, she flings it back, feels it burn all the way down. It hits her system like a punch to the face from a nydak. 

‘Good?’

‘Fuckin’ awful,’ she rasps. ‘Cheers.’

He laughs. Settles into place beside her, sipping at the thick oil drink. ‘So. Any reason you’re all the way over here instead of letting all of these lov-erly ladies lavish you with attention?’ He waggles his brows as he asks and grins, very much aware that he’s the only one who can get away with asking her these kinds of questions as baldly as he does. Mostly because he manages to ask in a way that doesn’t make her wanna use him for shooting practice. And a little because he’s her superior officer. ‘I’ve turned down two proposals on your behalf - you’re welcome.’

‘Huh? What? Who?’

He points them out subtly - one a dusty pink alien clad in white and gold, with about a half dozen tentacles drifting around her head like a mane, the other a waist-high, bearded lady who winks right at Beau when she sees her watching. 

‘That’s kinda my call, isn’t it?’

‘They offered two nerfs for you -’

‘Like, both of them together? That’s hot.’

‘What? No - Beau,’ he laughs. ‘The point is that you should know your worth.’ His face goes carefully blank as he tries, very obviously, not to smile. ‘Three nerfs.’

Beau snorts. ‘Shut up. I’m going to get another drink. See if you can get them to bid higher for my hand, yeah? Remind them that I lead Team Two today. Integral to the battle. Integral.’ He salutes and she pushes off the wall, walks toward the party just long enough for his eyes to slide away from her. She steps sideways into the corridor and ducks out of sight, breath coming out in a gust.

Tyr-Mannou Star Base is built deep in the asteroid that orbits the planet, hidden from prying eyes and ears by the layered rock. Beau hadn’t been listening a hundred per cent when it was explained but something about the metals in the area, and in this planet, seemed to provide a buffer - mild, temporary - to long-distance scanning and surveillance. And at this point - haggard, hurting - the rebels will take any buffer at all. 

It’s good for the rebellion, to be buried in the asteroid. 

It’s hard to find fresh air, though, and Beau pulls at the collar of her jumpsuit, unzipping it until she doesn’t feel like she’s being strangled. 

Moving farther from the party, down the corridor and just away, Beau lets her feet carry her aimlessly at first - listening to the sound of her boots on the metal, echoing in the tin-can corridors, hiding briefly from the passing technicians who don’t seem to notice her in the various shadowed niches she finds. And then less aimlessly, until she realises she is headed directly for the command station. 

The room isn’t dark, not ever, but it is running on a skeleton crew who look up suspiciously at her entry, relaxing when they recognise her face - or, more likely, the badge affixed to her shoulder. 

‘Lionette.’

‘Commander.’

‘Shouldn’t you be at the party? I heard your squad was receiving a commendation.’

‘We are. Did, Commander.’

Commander Dairon - a hard-ass and a legend in the fighter crews for the Battle of Sotheirrik in which they led the harrying of a military convoy for two fucking weeks - looks her over with a cool eye before nodding. ‘Made an appearance at least, I hope?’

‘Sure did.’

‘Good. Get some rest, Lionette. There will be plenty of work come morning.’ The Commander reaches out a gloved hand. Rests it on Beau’s shoulder for a moment, squeezes. ‘Enjoy these moments when you can,’ they tell her quietly, and it has a tinge of an order to it. But just a tinge. 

‘Yessir.’

‘Good. Now,’ they say, eyes glittering, ‘Fuck off.’

Beau barks a laugh. Salutes her Commander lazily and continues on, onwards toward the view that had been calling her. 

The command station sits closest to the surface of the asteroid and it is here, only here, that one can see the view that they are risking everything to protect. The field of stars and asteroids, glinting as they catch the light of Tyr-Mannou’s sun. The purple-blue of Tyr-Mannou’s surface, the deep deep green almost black of its seas. The layer of clouds that cloak portions of the landmasses and oceans alike, drifting. Beau leans up against the window, hands curling over the rail, and watches a storm brew.

She feels Jester’s presence before she sees her. A flicker of something at the edge of her awareness, far beyond that which her awareness should rightfully cover. She hears the hiss of the gas as the doors slide open and turning, beau watches a green-cloaked figure step down from the corridor. Jester exchanges a few words with Commander Dairon but Beau can feel it - the focus of her attention like a taut string between them, and she already knows Jester is about to look up, feeling her intent like a thrum, a plucked note on that string. 

Jester looks up. Dark, dark eyes in a smiling face. 

‘Ambassador Lavorre, this is one of our finest pilots.’

‘Beauregard,’ Jester interrupts Dairon’s introduction. 

Beau tries not to shiver. No one says her name the way this girl does, like they’re sharing a private joke. 

‘Princess,’ Beau returns, and she’s aiming for calm and cool, something to suit her new title of the best fucking pilot of the rebellion, but damn if it doesn’t come out reverent. 

Commander Dairon’s brows are at their hairline now and out of the corner of her eye Beau sees them mouth, ‘Okay,’ and they take their seat, turning away. 

‘How are you?’ Jester asks. It’s as nice to hear as it is weird. ‘I was told that you and your squad took on the main fleet today?’

Beau snorts. ‘Fuck no. I mean - uh,’

‘I’m not a Princess anymore,’ Jester teases, though her smile flickers at the reminder. ‘You don’t have to not swear around me.’

‘Oh, you’ll regret saying that. I swear every second word now. Habit. Us pilots are a rough and rowdy lot.’ 

Jester just laughs. ‘May I join you?’

‘Join - yeah, sure. Of course.’

Beau presses back until her back hits the rail, her spine and shoulders the cool glass. She grips the rail. Gulps. The weight of Jester’s attention, the force of her presence, feels like a real and tangible thing and Beau is finding it hard to concentrate the closer she comes - until she is right at her side and then the weight of it, the distraction, all falls away and Beau feels like the headache that has been pressing at her for the last few hours has lifted and she is seeing entirely clearly again. 

Jester holds out her hand, straight out as if to shake Beau’s. 

Beau slides her bare hand into Jester’s, tries not to shiver at the chill of her skin. Turns it and lifts it to her lips, brushes a kiss over sharp knuckles. 

//

‘Introducing the First Madrick of Kar-Marodah, Thoreau Lionette, and the First Madrise,’

The Hall is as large as four grav-barret courts, Beau is sure of that. And it’s all made of grand, sweeping lines that she can’t quite follow. She cranes her head to try and follow one to its end but it meets with another three lines and Beau is dizzy with it; a large hand sets heavy on the top of her skull and stops her turning and twisting and Beau, nine years old and well acquainted with her fathers displeasure, falls still. 

‘Be still, Beauregard. We are here to make a good impression on the Laveesh Embassy and that won’t happen,’ he reminds her, ‘if you are swinging all over the place like some common nerf-herder.’ His flat green eyes narrow. ‘Understood?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘I’d prefer Captain,’ she dares tell him, sure that he won’t reprimand her too terribly in front of an audience, and the chance to see his eye twitch is too good to pass up. She doesn’t press too far, feeling the first flutters of her danger sense. ‘Yes sir.’

‘Come along. They’re waiting.’

His fingers are clawed into her shoulder as he moves them strategically around the room. Smiling and making small talk with the various important boring folk in the chamber, and Beau is waist-height to most of them so it’s not her fault that she’s more interested in what they’re wearing on their feet and if they have anything on their belts. 

She finds two strange cards that have no writing on them that she recognises, which she returns, disappointed, and a ring on the floor, which she pockets. It feels cold and warm all at once, and as she drags her finger around the inside whorl of the ring, she feels very strange all of a sudden. As if she had done that exact thing a hundred, a thousand times over with this very ring. 

‘Ah, Madrick Lionette, how wonderful,’ comes a voice, finally, that drags Beau’s eyes from the mosaic floor. The woman - the alien - the alien woman in front of Beau is beautiful in a way she has never seen before, all vibrant red skin and curves and gold gold gold and Beau feels her jaw drop. She didn’t know that women could look like this. 

She’s still staring when she hears her own name, and feels her father shake her shoulder. 

‘Beauregard,’ she blurts out. ‘Hello.’ The sigh from above tells her that she did that all wrong. Face flushing, ears burning, Beau trawls through her memory and tries again. ‘I’m - It’s a pleasure to meet you, Queen Lavorre. I am Beauregard Lionette, scion of the Madrick Lionette.’

‘Oh!’ The Queen laughs, not meanly at all but seemingly delighted. ‘How polite! It is my pleasure to meet you, Young Beauregard.’ She laughs again when Beau stammers through a thank you. ‘Have you had a chance to meet my daughter? You’re about the same age and she’s force sensitive too -’

‘Beauregard is not,’ her father tells the Queen flatly. ‘We had high hopes, but...it was not to be.’ He coats the words with the displeasure Beauregard hates; feels it pressing into her skin like his clawed fingers. It’s her fault she’s not force sensitive. She’s known that for a long time now. For as long as she can remember. 

There is a moment of silence, then, ‘Well. Jester? Where have you gone, my darling?’

Like a flicker of fish in the pool back home, and with the same warmth of the sun-soaked tiles against Beau’s chest and belly as she lays at the side, hand plunged into the waters to try and catch one of those crafty fish, Beau sees her. A girl, around her own age as promised, and dressed all in pretty robes. She is muddy to the knees, the dress heavy around her feet and dripping the purpled soil in a thick trail behind her. 

‘Jester? What have you gotten into?’

‘The mud. Obviously,’ the girl adds, though the Obviously was already clear from her tone. Her curls are riotous about her face, and she wears a great big smile, though it slips momentarily as she twists something between her fingers. 

‘Are you alright?’ Beau blurts. 

‘Beauregard,’

‘Oh yes,’ Jester tells her, and smiles with all the brilliance she can muster in her round, round cheeks and dark eyes. It’s... a lot. 

Beau still feels an undercurrent. Cold water around her fingers. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Beauregard! Don’t be a pest!’

Jester stares for a moment, then laughs. Shoves her hand toward Beau. ‘Hello, pest. I’m Jester.’

Beau takes it. Blanks for a moment over what is proper and finally bows, kissing it clumsily. As she stands upright, she notes the rings - one on each finger. Except for, 

‘Are you missing a ring?’

‘Oh, Jester,’

‘It was an accident,’ Jester tells her mother immediately, complete with trembling lip and abject sorrow. Though, Beau notes, no seeming anxiety for her mother’s reaction. 

She reaches down into her pocket. Rubs her thumb over the heavy ring. Is struck, momentarily, by the urge to keep it. It’s beautiful, she found it. 

It’s Jester’s. 

She didn’t see a name on it, but she knows it as certainly as she knows she’ll have blisters in the morning from these awful shiny boots. 

‘Come along, Beauregard,’ her father says, and begins to draw away from the Queen and her daughter. 

Beau shakes out from his hold and steps forward, holds out both her closed hands toward Jester. If she can guess which one the ring is in, Beau decides in nine-year old logic, then she can have it back. If not, Beau will get to keep it. 

//

They’re seventeen and the Madrick has called the meeting this time. The Queen - The Planetless Queen, Beau has heard her called behind her back, and she owns several bruises and one cracked knuckle for putting upstarts back in their places by force. The Queen has disappeared into the war room and Beau isn’t surprised to find that Jester has found her, even hidden away in the engineering core as she is. 

‘Still on with this plan, then?’ Jester asks her, peering up from beneath the suspended chassis to where Beau is hanging, fixing the wiring. ‘Becoming a pilot?’

‘Why? You think I can’t hack it?’

‘What? No. Of course you can!’

‘Then why wouldn’t I be?’

Jester is quiet for a long time, long enough for Beau to almost forget the question. She winches herself down from her position and before she can fully reclaim her feet, Jester is in front of her and her hands press against Beau’s cheeks and she’s kissing her. Kissing her, with the engineering teams buzzing around outside, and the smell of jet-oil and soldering thick in the air. 

‘I’ll miss you,’ she says. Simple words, but the feelings that slam hard into Beau’s stomach are far from simple. 

‘Jes - ‘

‘I’m sorry,’

‘You can’t -’ Beau scrambles up onto her feet. Hooks a grease-stained hand onto the perfect sleeve of the newly minted Junior Ambassador, pulling her deeper into the corner. ‘My father -’

‘He’s busy, he didn’t see,’

‘He owns these people,’ Beau hisses, glances back over her shoulder. But no one seems to have seen. ‘If I’m going to get into the Academy, he can’t - he can’t know that I’m - with you,’

‘Why not? What’s wrong with me?’

‘Nothing! Everything!’

‘Oh, how very flattering,’

‘That’s not what I meant and you know it, Jes,’

‘Well you do one thing and then say a lot of other nonsense, Beau, so forgive me if I’m a little confused!’ Jester is a sight and a half, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. She’s a good inch or two shorter than Beau but with them both straining to hiss-yell at one another, their noses are almost touching. 

‘You’re hot when you’re angry.’

‘Oh shut up.’

Beau grins. The grin fades into something softer, something adoring. She reaches up. Is careful that, when she brushes a curl back, the grease-stained finger doesn’t touch Jester’s cheek. ‘Did you come here to ask me that? If I still wanna be a pilot, all I’ve ever wanted to do since I was five?’ 

Jester’s eyes drop.

Beau wipes her hand off on her jumpsuit. Crooks a finger under her chin. ‘Or did you come to ask me not to go?’

For a little while, Beau thinks Jester won’t answer. Then her eyes shift, harden, and Beau is reminded of those months after the destruction of her planet. When the pain had threatened to overflow and so Jester had locked it down, hard and tight enough to become coal, something that would let her burn and burn and burn with fury for ages to come. 

‘What you want to do, it’s important. More important than me.’

Beau can’t disagree. The simple fact is that the war is more important than everything. Any one person. She opens her mouth to argue anyway, because - because this is Jester. 

‘I came to tell you to be safe.’ And then Jester is reaching into her pocket and she removes something from it. Small and round and familiar, the golden band with the touch of emerald studded along it. The ring they have passed to one another at every meeting. A keep-safe. A talisman. ‘I want this back,’ she tells Beau, and presses it into her palm. Beau closes her hand around it, and Jester’s hand. Kisses the back of it. 

‘Be safe. Please - I don’t want - I can’t lose you as well.’

‘As you command,’ Beau whispers. ‘Princess.’

//

The fight is coming quickly into its sixth hour. Beau’s jumpsuit is slick with sweat, her hands are basically swimming in her gloves, and she can barely fucking see with the sweat dripping, stinging in her eyes. There’s nothing she can do about that right now, though, and she yanks hard on her controls as another volley of bolts burst into the space where she just was.

‘Blue-XP, what’s your status?’

‘Got a bruiser on my tail, Cap,’ she gasps, and pulls hard, swivelling overhead of the TIE fighter, letting it zoom ahead. ‘Coming in hot on the zero.’

Whatever reply Fjord might have for her is lost in a crackle of energy and a blur as Beau reacts to something she feels before she sees - another TIE, bursting out from fucking nowhere to pinch her between the two of them. 

Beau swears and books it, zipping in and out of the carcass of the long-dead transporter, her small fighter tackling the corners like a champ and her memory of the interior bursting into sharp relief as adrenaline and luck slam hard into her. She doesn’t let herself think, just slams into the controls in a way that might have made her wince if she had time to feel anything at all over the fear and fury. 

One TIE bursts into flame, utterly silent in the vacuum. The other is hot on her tail still - the hunter becomes the hunted, piece of motherfucking shit Empire dogs - and then Beau is lifting a prayer to old, dead planets and touching a finger to the ring of heavy metal that hands around her neck and spinning her fighter around to face the TIE dead on. Spins around the bolts that come her way and - between one breath and the next she fires. Bolts away without even needing to look back. 

It hit. She knew it before she saw the impact. 

//

They stand in front of the star field now, in a quiet command station far from a party celebrating a truly minor battle. The war rages on all around them, in every direction, and will for years to come. But for now, there are drinks and lights and dancing, and everyone will pretend that it is enough. 

With distant stars as their lights, and the beep of alerts and reminders as their music, Beauregard and Jester dance like they have been dancing together for decades. Like it hasn’t been almost five years since they’ve seen one another. 

‘Most daring pilot in the ninth sector,’ Jester murmurs, cheek resting on Beau’s shoulder. Her words rumble up through her chest to the top of her head, where Beau’s cheek rests in turn against soft curls. ‘That’s what I’ve heard. You’re fast becoming a legend.’

‘Me? Maybe. But you faced down a legion of Kryn soldiers and got them to turn tail - yes or no?’ From the flush on Jester’s face, Beau knows her answer. She whistles, low and quiet. ‘Damn, Jes.’

‘That won’t be remembered. No one remembers the ambassadors - you’re not supposed to remember us. The fighters are the cool ones.’

‘I’ll remember you,’ Beau shrugs.

They sway together, a slow side-to-side. 

‘I’ve got a present for you,’ Beau tells her. Jester’s smile is warm against her skin, even through the jumpsuit. 

‘Oh really?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It wouldn’t happen to be a ring, would it?’

‘What - how did you know?’

Jester hums, trying to hide a laugh. The laugh actually does fade when Beau lets her go - just for a moment, just long enough to unclasp the chain - and tugs the ring off from around her neck. She clasps it in her hand and Beau is close enough to feel the ripple of it - the energy that swirls around this shared ring, no doubt full of the fear and thrilling adrenaline of the fight, hopefully filled with the memory of all those nights she spent in her cabin, missing Jester. 

Jester’s breath hitches. She blinks a few times, blinking open dark eyes, and then turns in the cradle of Beau’s arms. Lifts her hair, as she offers the chain to Beau. ‘Do it up for me?’

‘Y-yeah. Yeah, sure.’ Beau takes it with suddenly clumsy fingers. Can’t resist brushing her thumb over the knob of Jester’s spine, the soft hair at her hairline. It takes a moment for her to work the clasp but finally it clicks closed and she lets her hands fall to either side, to Jester’s shoulders, and leans forward until she can kiss where she had touched. Lips pressed to the vulnerable space there. ‘I want that back,’ she whispers. ‘Sooner than five years, if you can manage.’

Jester twists back to face her. ‘Shouldn’t I get to keep it for five years? You did.’

‘That’s not how the game works.’

‘I’ll let you see it,’

‘We trade it, Jes. That’s how the game works.’

‘That’s how it has historically worked. I might suggest a change in rules,’ she says, in her most Ambassadorial tones, and Beau fights a laugh. ‘I had two dozen Kryn warships fleeing before me, Beauregard, I think I can get you to change your mind.’

‘You try your best, Princess. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.’

#cr tag #prompt fill #tagging my stories #i dont rly know shit or jack all abt star wars #beaujester

[iffeelscouldkill]

say what we wanna do, make it all come true (chapter 2)

A/N: In my original notes for this fic I had written that Chapter 3 might be rolled into Chapter 2 depending on length because I thought that Chapter 2 was going to be super short. *laughs wildly in 7.1k-long chapter* But this is my favourite chapter of the fic, so it's nice that we get to spend extra time with it!

No particular content warnings for this; everything’s pretty chill. Enjoy! <3

Link to Chapter One | Read on AO3

“That, dear listeners, was ‘Landers Never Stand Down’, the hit single – or should that be anthem? – by beloved indie band Rumor, from their debut album, ‘Ghost Squid’. If you’re just joining us, I’m Piper Tanaka, and this is Radio Indie, Folk and Techno. With us in the studio are Rumor frontwoman Sana Tripathi-”

“Hello again.”

“-and bassist Arkady Patel. We’ve just been hearing the stunning true story of how the band added a new member to its line-up, drummer Violet Liu, after she was discovered trying to obtain confidential files in order to blow the whistle on her employer, the notorious IGR Corp, and its development of an unethical surveillance device.”

“Isn’t that, really, the only logical way to join a band?” Kestrel quipped.

“It sure worked out well for the Rumor crew!” said Piper. “On a more musical note, though – and yes, that pun was intended – that was a great track we just heard. I’m curious about the name you picked for your debut album; is there a story there?”

Sana glanced at Arkady, amused. “Call it an in joke,” she said. “We were originally going to go with ‘In the Deep’, since there’s kind of a loose space theme to the first album, and then… after rehearsal one day, we were just riffing on what kind of creatures might live out in the depths of outer space-” They had also been pretty drunk at the time, but she didn’t need to mention that live on air. “-and Arkady suggested that maybe there’d be giant squid, like in the depths of the ocean.”

“Space squid!” Piper enthused. “Now there’s a concept I can get behind.”

“Right, but Violet, who is our resident science expert – she has a Masters in Molecular Biology–”

“Fancy. Love a woman of science.”

“-pointed out that a squid could never propel itself in a vacuum. Unless it was, you know, a ghost squid.”

“How much had you guys been drinking?” Kestrel asked shrewdly. Arkady coughed.

“It was a dumb joke, but we thought it would make a pretty unique name for a first album,” she finished.

“You were right there!” said Piper brightly. “Then, of course, there’s your upcoming second album, which we’ve heard will be titled ‘More Than a Rumor’.”

“That’s right,” Sana confirmed. “We’ve been working on some really cool material for this one, and we’re excited to bring it to you all.”

“We’ve been hearing some interesting talk about what exactly that material might be,” said Piper. “The discussion boards online are buzzing about one track, ‘The Saga of the House of Zravshen’, which is said to be a thirteen-minute-long “epic space opera ballad” written by Brian Jeeter.”

Arkady made a derisive noise. “It’ll be a thirteen-minute-long something, all right.”

“Arkady, maybe you could tell us about ‘Nanoswarm’,” said Kestrel slyly. “I’ve heard that you and Violet Liu collaborated closely on that track.”

“I – we didn’t – what I mean is, uh, it really wasn’t a formal – collaboration–”

Arkady’s transformation from self-assured to completely flustered was delightful to behold, even though Sana felt like she should maybe step in and save her best friend from herself.

“It was more of a, uh, sort of a side project – we just worked on it and it sounded pretty cool, so it, uh – went onto the album.”

“What I think is really great about ‘More Than a Rumor’,” Sana intervened smoothly, and Arkady let out a breath, sitting back in her chair, “is that there are various tracks where different band members get a chance to shine. Building on ‘Ghost Squid’, which was the introduction to the band as a whole, we really delve into different members’ specialisms in our second album, which has made the material really varied as a result. But at the same time, we’ve worked hard to give it a cohesive flow…”

---

Not everything about adding a new member to the band had been as seamless as that first set. They’d improvised together well over the course of a performance, sure, but there was a different quality to rehearsals now that there were five of them instead of four; they were still figuring out how to navigate each other, adapting routines and in-jokes to accommodate a new person.

A lot of their original material sounded different now with the addition of a keytar and a new drummer; Liu was more technically capable than Jeeter had been, and she also wasn’t content with just falling into a role that had been laid down for her. She had ideas, things she wanted to change, and they weren’t bad ideas, but they still bugged Arkady anyway. She was just attached to a lot of their old songs, that was all.

And okay, maybe she’d pushed back on a few suggestions during rehearsals in a way that had Sana raising an amused eyebrow at her and Krejjh pretending to duck and cover. To her credit, Liu didn’t just roll over and give up on her ideas at the first sign of resistance, sticking to her guns in a way that Arkady respected even if it was also annoying. Things never deteriorated too far, mainly because Sana was quick to play peacemaker, but there always seemed to be some kind of friction between the two of them. It was like an itch under Arkady’s skin whenever she was around Liu, quick to flare up.

Then there was the time that Liu had made an offhanded comment that, “Everyone here went to an underground concert or two in college, right?” in the context of discussing the kinds of set-ups that they’d performed with in the past. Arkady had said nothing, but could feel her teeth grinding as she played an overly loud riff on her bass. It was an innocuous enough comment on its own, but the easy presumptions behind it – the idea that everyone had had access to the same educational opportunities that Liu had had – were what pissed Arkady off.

But contradicting her would have meant talking about something that was personal to Arkady, something that cut way too close to the bone, and she didn’t want to do that. Liu hadn’t earned that from her. Instead, Jeeter made a joke about having been way too immersed in books to find time for concerts, and Sana tactfully steered the conversation out of dangerous waters.

After the rehearsal, she’d pulled Arkady aside. “If you want me to talk to her about—”

Arkady shook her head. “It’s not a big deal. Really,” she added at Sana’s unconvinced look. “It was a stupid assumption, but I can let it go. I’d rather just… let it go.”

They were in a band together, but that didn’t mean they had to be best friends. Arkady could maintain a civil working relationship. It didn’t matter what she’d… thought when she first met Liu, or what Liu might have been about to say to her in the bar. All of that was in the past, so there was no point dwelling on it. All Arkady needed to do was work with Liu within the context of the band; she could do that.

Until one afternoon when Arkady arrived early for rehearsal without really meaning to, and found that the only other person in the warehouse was Liu, who was setting up her drumkit. Before Arkady could turn around and pretend she’d never been there, Liu looked up and spotted her.

“Oh… hey. I was just planning to run through a few drum lines before the rehearsal… try some stuff out,” she said.

“Right,” Arkady said, casting about for an excuse that would get her out of the warehouse until the others arrived. “Uh, I’m gonna go get some coffee from the-”

“Arkady, listen, can we, uh… Can we clear the air between us?” Liu asked, the last few words coming out all in a rush.

Arkady froze. “Clear… what air?” she asked, hoping to god that Liu would say something innocuous about why she thought the drum line on Fear for the Storm needed work.

No such luck. “Look, I get that you’re not… thrilled with having me in the band,” Liu said, quietly, though her voice still carried in the echoey space. “I’ve been in a lot of workplace environments where I’m not welcome, so I… know how to spot the signs. And maybe I’m being hypersensitive, or looking for things to worry about, but something still feels off between us, so whatever it is, can we just talk about it and deal with it? Please?”

Arkady’s chest clenched at Liu’s mention of not being welcome in ‘workplace environments’. Damn it, she didn’t want to make Liu feel the same way she’d felt in whatever white dudebro-filled tech companies she’d worked for. But she also didn’t want to go into the reasons why she wasn’t always a ray of sunshine when they interacted. There was no way that that conversation was going to make anything better.

“I don’t have a problem with you being in the band. Really,” she said instead. “If it comes off that way, it’s just because… Sana and I worked on a lot of those early songs together, and I’m… attached to how they sound. That’s all.”

“So… this is really just a musical disagreement?” said Liu, sounding unconvinced. “Because it feels like there’s… something else. I know you’re not the biggest fan of my former employer – and I mean, me neither – but I figure if it bothered you that much, you wouldn’t have come to help me when Seiders was threatening me-”

“I wasn’t going to just let you die,” Arkady said, nettled. “And no, I’m not in the habit of judging people for where they work. I’ve worked my fair share of jobs for shitty employers just to get by.” She shrugged. Then, almost without meaning to, she added, “Of course, I didn’t have the choice that you probably had…”

Liu frowned, but more like she was confused than like she was annoyed by Arkady’s comment. “What do you mean?”

Arkady sighed. “Not everyone went to college, Liu,” she said. “I’m a high school dropout. So no, I didn’t go to any underground concerts. Or any kind of gigs in college.”

Liu’s eyes widened as her comment from earlier came back to her. “Oh my god,” she groaned, putting her hand to her head. “I am so sorry, Arkady – I should know better than to make assumptions like that. I was just – I’d been talking to Brian about his studies and how he met Krejjh doing fieldwork, and I guess I assumed you guys had all met in college-”

Arkady barked out a laugh, too startled to even really be annoyed. “What, you thought that I could’ve been studying alongside Jeeter? You know he went to Brightwell, right? That elite college that’s supposed to be harder than Harvard to get into?”

Liu shrugged like the idea was actually plausible and not something that sounded like part of a bizarre alternate reality. “Yeah, I don’t see why not.” Then, quickly, as if she was afraid that this might have offended Arkady even more, she added, “But like I said – I really shouldn’t have assumed, and I’m sorry – I know better than that. I was only able to go to the college I did because I won a scholarship.”

Keen to move away from the topic of Arkady possibly having gone to Brightwell – because really, what – Arkady said, “You went to uh, that all-girls college, right? Harmony?” She vaguely remembered overhearing a conversation between Liu and Jeeter where Liu had talked about there being a Latin motto. “It sounded… interesting.”

Liu pulled a face. “Yeah, that’s one word for it.” She went on almost shyly, like she was confessing to a deeply-held secret, “I would have liked to study something more artistic – music, maybe – or at least do more extra-curriculars, but… I got that scholarship, and I was under a lot of pressure from my parents to do something ‘worthwhile’. Plus, I really wanted to show the kids who said I only got that scholarship because I was ‘a minority’.” There was an anger and a bitterness and a tiredness underlying those last two words that Arkady knew far too well.

“They what,” she spat out. God, was she glad she’d never been to college. Then again, she’d worked at places where she’d come up against the exact same attitude.

“Yeah,” Liu said wearily, fiddling with the drumsticks she was holding. “It wasn’t all bad, though. Being away at college was the first time I was really able to be myself – play the drums, be out. I got this haircut in my freshman year that was just – wild, it was awful.” She laughed, though Arkady barely heard her, her heartbeat suddenly pounding in her ears at the word ‘out’. God, Patel, get a grip. “My parents never liked the drums, they thought they were too – un-feminine,” she pulled a face again. “I play the flute, too, but I’m bad at it.”

“We should add that into the line-up,” said Arkady, to distract herself from thinking about Violet’s – Liu’s – flushed cheeks and her smile as she talked about her old haircut. “Sana can write a flute part.”

“Oh god, no,” Liu said, laughing again. “I don’t even have my flute any more, I sold it in grad school.”

“So… if you went to grad school… you can’t have hated it that much, right?” Arkady asked. “Uh – the biology, not the – flute playing.”

“Oh, no, I love biology,” Liu enthused. “It’s the study of living things – what’s not to love? Grad school itself, though, was…” She pulled a face. “I came close to quitting, a few times.”

“What happened?” Arkady asked. They were pretty far off their original subject by now, and Arkady was willing to admit to herself (and only herself) that maybe she was enjoying the conversation. It was all in the name of building better inter-band relationships, of course. Sana would be thrilled that they were bonding like this.

Liu sighed. “Let’s just say there were a few people on my course who were determined to let me know I didn’t belong. We had a lab work module where we were supposed to carry out an experiment as a group, and… I got put in charge of our group of six. My teammates would do things like pretend not to understand my instructions, or move things I needed to shelves I couldn’t reach… make comments they knew I could overhear… Growing up with an anxiety disorder, everyone’s always telling you not to worry – you learn to doubt your own thoughts. And my advisor just dismissed my concerns as ‘over-sensitivity’, so…” Arkady’s eyes narrowed further with every word that Liu spoke. “It was too late for me to transfer to another module. In the end I wound up carrying the whole project basically by myself.”

Liu gave Arkady a weak smile. “So, y’know, you didn’t miss out on much. I interned for a pharmaceutical company for a couple of years after college, did some work as a research assistant. When I got the job offer from IGR Corp, I felt like I’d finally made it – and look how that turned out.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault that IGR Corp turned out to be a special brand of greedy, soul-sucking and unethical,” said Arkady bluntly – even though she’d previously thought that maybe Liu could have had less awful taste in employers. “That’s on them. Look… I know a thing or two about soul-sucking workplaces myself.”

Arkady hadn’t intended this to turn into Personal Story Hour, but at the same time she felt like she should at least offer something after Liu had opened up about her time in college. She hadn’t needed to justify herself; she could just have apologised and left it at that. Instead, she’d shared something that Arkady suspected she didn’t talk about to a lot of people.

“The last job I worked before Sana and I started Rumor was for Telemachus Enterprises,” Arkady said, and Liu’s eyes widened in recognition.

“The global consulting firm? That’s very… well…”

“Capitalist? Soullessly corporate?” Arkady finished for her.

“I was going to say stable,” Liu said diplomatically.

“Sure, as long as you also like ladder-climbing, backstabbing and toxic work environments,” said Arkady. “I was an assistant, doing all the crap work like photocopying, fetching coffee, making calls, scheduling appointments and dealing with angry clients. It was the kind of job you get to get a ‘foothold’ in the world of business, and all of the other assistants were recent college grads who were way younger than me. I hated it.”

Liu nodded, listening intently, not offering any kind of commentary or judgement.

“Playing the bass was kind of the only thing that kept me sane, so… I used to go down to these shitty clubs at night and play, sometimes straight from work because the overtime was ridiculous. I’d join up with a couple of other musicians and do jam sessions, or sometimes play solo stuff. I’d sing, sometimes, too,” she added, a little self-consciously, even though she sang backing vocals on most of Rumor’s songs, and everyone in the band had heard her sing.

“I moved around a lot, never performed at the same place two nights in a row, so that no-one got to know me too well. I used to use different stage names – my favourite was Duchess Calpurnia Higginsworth-Cobb.”

Liu burst out laughing. “You didn’t really tell people that was your name?”

“Drunk people will believe anything,” Arkady told her. “I’m still known as ‘Duchess’ in a few places. It was a precaution, in case anything got back to my work, but in the end… the person who recognised me was someone I hadn’t seen in over a decade. Sana.”

Liu’s eyes widened. “You guys go back that far?”

“Kind of,” Arkady said. “It’s a long story–” delving into the tale of The Landing and her and Sana’s shared history definitely felt like it would be going a step too far – “but uh, I used to do work at a tattoo parlour that Sana came to a few times. I didn’t think she’d really noticed me at the time, but she remembered me well enough that when I played at a club near her workplace, she recognised me. She managed to catch a few more of my performances, figure out where I’d be, and one night she showed up with her guitar, and… we played together.”

Arkady smiled a little, remembering that night, the spark she’d felt as soon as they started to play. The drummer had been awful, some white asshole named Ricky who thought he was God’s gift to music – and wasn’t – but they’d sounded like magic anyway.

“Somehow she managed to figure out where I worked, showed up one day, invited me to get lunch, and after she found out how much I hated it there, she told me I should quit so that we could start a band,” Arkady said.

“And you did?” Liu asked, sounding half impressed, half scandalised.

“I really hated that job,” Arkady said. “Besides, the Capt- Sana can be really persuasive. We joke about her motivational speeches, but she’s…” Arkady hated to admit this, because it sounded so goddamn cheesy, but there wasn’t another word to describe it. “…inspirational.”

Liu smiled. “Yeah, I can tell. She seems like that kind of person.”

“We wrote a lot of our early songs together during that time,” Arkady said. “‘Landers Never Stand Down’, ‘Fear for the Storm’… they kind of – ugh, this is going to sound so corny, but they were about our hope for something better. So… that’s why I’m weird about changing them.”

Liu’s expression softened. “I completely get it. Look, I know that all of this has been pretty sudden – me joining the band, us trying to put together an album – and I’d understand if you wanted me to… back off a little. I was throwing out ideas for things that I thought would sound good with our new line-up, but I should have appreciated that these aren’t just songs to you and Sana.”

“No, it’s – you’re – okay,” Arkady said awkwardly. “You’re fine. They’re… they’re uh, really…” God, Arkady, just spit it out. People pay each other compliments all the time – it doesn’t have to mean anything. (Even if you might want it to mean something). “They’re really good. Ideas, I mean. And the others seem to like them! So… don’t stop on my account.”

Arkady’s urge to just leave the building after finally stumbling through that awkward admission was pretty strong, but she managed to resist. Which turned out to be worth it to see the small, pleased smile unfolding on Liu’s face. It was a different kind of smile to the one that she wore when the Captain paid her a compliment, though Arkady couldn’t have said exactly how. It just felt… personal to her.

“Well, in that case,” said Liu. “I had this idea I really wanted to try out on ‘Landers’, and… I’d love to get your thoughts? On how it sounds?”

Which was how, when Sana showed up for the start of the rehearsal fifteen minutes later, Arkady and Violet came to be mid-debate about the merits of speeding up the tempo of the drum line in the first half of the second verse, Arkady singing Sana’s part of the vocals to illustrate her point.

“Am I late?” Sana joked, throwing Arkady an amused glance. “Sorry, I didn’t realise practice was starting early.”

“The cool kids show up to practice a half hour early to go over new drum lines,” Arkady deadpanned, and Liu laughed. Sana smiled as she brought out her guitar.

“What you were playing just then sounded really good – can you go over it again?”

The conversation with Liu didn’t magically fix everything between them, but the tension eased up significantly after that, and it became easier for Arkady and Liu to come to a compromise whenever they disagreed. The album started to come together much more quickly, and when Red Gregor stopped by (which he did a lot more than he strictly needed to as the head of their record label, and Arkady suspected he was mostly there to see Sana), he was full of praise for the new arrangements.

It also somehow became a habit for Arkady to start showing up early to rehearsal. She told herself it was because the line in the coffee shop was easier to deal with at that time, and it was true that at some point she’d bought enough coffee for both her and Violet to have Violet’s regular order memorised; but it also had something to do with the fact that more often than not, Violet would arrive while she was setting up, or vice versa, and they’d run through the parts that had been bugging them, each lending the other an honest and unjudgemental ear. Sometimes they’d play around with something new, or improvise, trying on new techniques and styles for size.

Arkady honestly hadn’t had this much fun experimenting with music since those first early, heady days with Sana, when they started to lay down exactly what kind of performers they wanted to be. It was different with Violet – they had a different relationship, a different vibe – but there was still something about their sessions that felt similar, like they were breaking new ground.

One day, Arkady had been messing around with a bass line that she couldn’t get out of her head – she’d been thinking of adding it to ‘The Carmen Gambit’, one of the band’s originals that Jeeter had helped write, but it didn’t really fit. She liked how it sounded on its own, though. Liu had been listening, head tilted to one side, which Arkady didn’t really think anything of until quietly, underneath the bass line, Violet started to add a drum part.

Arkady was startled, mostly by how well the two fit together; after a slight fumble, she carried on playing, improvising and adding a couple of variations to the bass line when she ran out of material. Liu smoothly changed up the rhythm of the drum line to match just a second later, and Arkady realised that they had something that almost sounded like… a real piece of music. Something organic, something that flowed and moved and changed with-

Crap. Arkady came to a stop at the end of a section as she realised she didn’t have any idea what to play next. “Uh…” She threw an apologetic glance in Violet’s direction. “I haven’t really figured out what comes after that.”

Violet nodded, not seeming put out by this. “What about…” She hummed the end section of the melody that Arkady had been playing, and then another phrase that almost mirrored it. “Actually, that part could come before the-”

“Right, right-” Arkady understood Violet’s meaning, and quickly picked up the tune on her bass.

The song (well, technically it was an instrumental) they were writing didn’t have a name for the first few days. Arkady and Violet would pick up where they left off each time they came to rehearsal, and would throw around ideas for additions and changes, discussing the overall sound and vibe, but it didn’t feel like there was a need to put a name to it.

Then in the middle of one of these discussions, Violet started scribbling something in a notebook, and Arkady realised she was writing down their song. She peered curiously at the letters and notes, and Violet grimaced self-consciously.

“I’m not sure if I’ve got all of the bass chords right,” she admitted, tilting the notebook so Arkady could see it better. “Feel free to correct any bits that are wrong, I was mostly trying to get the drum part down for my own benefit. My memory’s not as good as yours is.”

Arkady hesitated. She was tempted to lie and say the notation was fine; Violet would accept it, and it probably wouldn’t come up again. There was a time when she would have done it without a second’s thought. But Violet already knew that Arkady had dropped out of high school; knew bits and pieces of her background, if not the whole story; and Arkady had to admit that she’d been enjoying being herself more around Violet. She didn’t want to backtrack on that.

“I never really learned to read sheet music,” she admitted. “I can recognise a few chords, but… I mostly learned how to play from YouTube videos, so it always seemed easier to just watch someone else play the chords, and learn which ones went with which songs, and… for performances I always had to memorise stuff anyway, so, um.” Arkady was rambling, and Violet was staring at her, which was possibly not good. “There didn’t seem much point in having it written down.”

“So… you never had a bass teacher?” Violet said slowly. “All of your playing, your singing – it’s all self-taught?”

“Uh,” Arkady cringed. “Yes?”

“Wow,” Violet said, and Arkady suddenly realised that she was dumbfounded because she was impressed, not because she’d just realised she was playing with an amateur. “That’s… really impressive.”

Arkady fidgeted, uncomfortable with the pure admiration in Violet’s gaze. “It’s not really – I mean sure, I put in a lot of hours, but so does every musician,” she hedged. “It wasn’t anything special, I just – couldn’t afford to pay for classes.”

She braced herself for an awkward silence to follow, but instead Violet nodded. “No, you’re right, everyone has to put in the work if they want to improve,” she agreed. “But I imagine that it would be harder to motivate yourself when it’s just you and the instrument.”

Arkady shrugged her shoulder slightly. “It wasn’t so bad. It helped that I enjoyed it, I guess.” After the disaster that was her high school education, it had been a relief to find something she’d felt like she was good at – and wasn’t being assessed on.

Violet smiled, and mercifully changed the topic by looking down at the notation she’d scribbled and saying lightly, “Well, now that it’s been written down, it feels like we should give it a name.”

Arkady thought about it. “Anything that’s shorter than whatever the hell it is Jeeter and Krejjh are working on,” she said, because Jeeter had been waxing lyrical about the ‘epic space opera ballad’ that he’d been composing with his fiancé. Apparently it was about a race of fictional aliens, and some of the lyrics were in a made-up alien language that Jeeter had invented. Arkady had no idea why Jeeter had such a dedicated following among their fans for the weird shit that he came up with, but there you were.

Violet grinned, tapping her pen against the space above the lines and notations. “So, one word, then. It’s got a pretty futuristic sound… What about ‘Cyberpunk’?”

Arkady couldn’t help grimacing a little bit. “Yeah, too clichéd,” Violet agreed. “Maybe something themed around space… ‘Supernova’?”

They tossed around a few other ideas, but none of them quite seemed to fit the mood of the song. Violet frowned down at the music she’d written, and Arkady was about to suggest they come back to it later when she said, “This might sound like a weird association for a piece of music, but I was reading a paper the other day on nanotechnology, you know, technology used at the atomic and molecular level?”

“Sounds kind of dry for bedtime reading, but I’m with you,” Arkady said.

Violet laughed, blushing a little. “Yeah, a friend from my Masters sent it to me; I still like to keep up with new developments in the field, and there are fascinating implications for biology. But I’m thinking, what if none of the space names fit because they’re too big, too grand? What if instead we went really small, like… ‘Nanobot’?”

“Nanobot…” Arkady turned the name over in her mind, thinking about the quick, intricate rhythms of the song they were creating together. It was a surprisingly good fit, but something about it felt off. Something about the ‘bot’ part was too… lonely. “What about ‘Nanoswarm’?”

Violet’s eyes widened slightly and a smile spread across her face. “Nanoswarm,” she said, and wrote the song title in blocky capitals above their music. “I like it.”

Both Red Gregor and Campbell came to rehearsal that night, which Arkady took as a sign that they were there to discuss something Important. Their album, ‘Ghost Squid’, was selling more copies than any of them had expected, and had actually got them some interview requests from indie music blogs and magazines. This seemed to be partly down to Red Gregor, who apparently had enough of a reputation as a business investor that his decision to start up a record label had attracted a lot of interest, and consequently a lot of interest in the first band he’d signed to it. But they’d also had some great reviews, including from Radio, Indie, Folk and Techno (also known as RIFT), the go-to station for all things indie music, who had covered it on their ‘Rave Review Hour’.

There’d also been a noticeably bigger audience at most of their gigs. They’d had a modest but dedicated following before Violet had joined the band, and were regulars at a couple of underground venues where they pulled decent crowds, plus one bar where Arkady had managed not to piss off the owner (the other four were… long stories); a bunch of people also streamed their music from various parts of the world. But since Ghost Squid came out, they’d started playing at (and filling) much bigger venues across a much wider area. It was fun, but also a little surreal.

“What’s the good word, Campbell?” Krejjh asked, leaning on their keyboard. “Are you here to tell us how much the people love us?”

Campbell’s lips twitched in amusement. “They love you a whole lot,” he said. “More every day.”

Krejjh fist-pumped, and Arkady asked, “So, what are you guys here for? Is this about ‘Ghost Squid 2: Electric Boogaloo’?”

They’d had a discussion with Red Gregor about beginning work on a second album; this one would take longer, since they’d had plenty of existing songs to draw on for ‘Ghost Squid’, and hadn’t needed to put together any new material. But, as Gregor had pointed out, it was better to start thinking about that sooner rather than later, and they’d been working on a few new songs anyway. So far, the second album was still nameless, but they’d taken to calling it by a range of joke nicknames.

Red Gregor grinned. “Sort of, in the sense that it’ll be good promo,” he said. Spreading his hands out to either side like a showman introducing his next act, he said grandly, “I’ve landed you a gig at the CUI Stadium.”

Jeeter’s mouth dropped open, Krejjh flailed and exclaimed, “Holy moley!”, and Violet repeated, “Stadium?!” in an almost horrified tone. Even Sana seemed surprised by the news.

“You actually got it?” she asked Red Gregor, who nodded.

Arkady’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, what’s the catch?” she asked. “They don’t let just anyone play the CUI Stadium.”

“No catch,” Campbell promised them. “Red has some contacts who tipped him off that the CUI is looking for some new, lesser-known talent to put on its billing. Once upon a time, the CUI had a reputation for scouting the best undiscovered bands and giving them a bigger stage – literally – and they feel they’ve been losing their touch.”

Put like that, it did make a kind of sense. “Cool, so who are we supporting?” Jeeter asked. “Oooh, maybe it’s Hremreh.”

Hremreh was a weird electronic band that Jeeter and Krejjh were completely obsessed with. Arkady rolled her eyes. “I hope the CUI has more taste than that.”

“Excuse you, Hremreh is an underrated gem of a band,” Krejjh retorted.

“The Destroyer?” Violet suggested jokingly. “They’re local.”

Arkady knew from having spent time with Violet that The Destroyer was one of her favourite bands from college, whose gigs she’d religiously attended during her freshman year. Everyone else looked interested but bemused, and Violet hurriedly added, “Uh, that was a bit of a niche joke. I used to go to their gigs a lot in college.”

“All great guesses,” Red Gregor said, “but you’re all missing one important piece of information. You’ll be the headline act.”

“What?” said Arkady.

“Heck yeah!” Krejjh exclaimed, and high-fived Jeeter.

“So, someone will be supporting us?” Violet said a little faintly.

“Red, exactly how many strings did you pull?” Sana asked, sounding halfway between amused and disapproving. Red Gregor held up his hands.

“I just talked to my contacts, I promise,” he said. “It gave me a chance to put your name forward, but that was all I needed to do. You guys have a great sound; they’re excited to have you on.”

Everything dissolved into a flurry of noise and celebration. Jeeter played a celebratory tune on his keytar that Arkady was fairly sure was from some video game, Krejjh whooped and slid their hands up the keys of their keyboard, and Campbell picked up Sana and spun her around, both of them and Red Gregor laughing. Violet caught Arkady’s eye, grinned, and did a little roll on one of her cymbals. Arkady huffed and rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the smile that was trying to emerge.

“So, when is the gig?” Sana asked, flushed and catching her breath, after Campbell had put her down.

“A month from today,” Red told them. Sana straightened up.

“Wow, okay, we need to get rehearsing! Everyone—”

They quickly got into position, picking up instruments and drumsticks and plugging in amplifiers. Sana beamed around at the assembled band members.

“I just want to say how proud I am of all of you for what we’ve accomplished so far, and everything that lies ahead of us. I-”

“Not to head you off at the pass,” Arkady interrupted, sensing a long Sana Monologue was coming, “but didn’t you say we needed to get rehearsing? Maybe save the speech for after?”

Most people would have taken offence at being interrupted, but Sana, being Sana, smiled at Arkady. “Thank you for the reminder, Arkady. I am proud of you all, but I’ll tell you exactly how proud once we’re done.”

Rehearsal went well, everyone energetic and buoyed up from the good news. As they were packing down afterwards, under the noise of Sana, Krejjh, Jeeter, Campbell and Gregor eagerly discussing where they could go out for drinks to celebrate, Violet said to Arkady,

“I forgot to tell you earlier, but I heard back from the journalist. Emily Craddock.”

Arkady fumbled the wire that she was looping around itself. “Yeah? What did she say?”

“She said that she thinks we have enough for a story. Even with the missing data,” Violet said.

She looked happy, but something in Arkady’s chest still clenched. It had been nearly four weeks since the fateful gig at IGR Corp, and so far, everything had been quiet. The band had been on high alert at all of their performances at first, not spending any more time than was necessary setting up or lingering on the stage, but there’d been no attempts at sabotage, no suspicious ‘fans’ trying to approach them after a set. (There had been a few real fans whom Arkady had cross-examined a bit too aggressively when they tried to get close to the band, but people seemed to actually find it funny and no-one got offended).

They figured that IGR Corp must not know about the files that Violet had managed to copy across; Seiders had been unconscious, after all, and it was possible that they hadn’t realised that Violet had made off with anything, or had downplayed the severity of the incident to the higher-ups. Arkady had, in spite of her misgivings, broken the encryption on the files for Violet, but she’d been secretly hoping that the data wouldn’t turn out to be useful, or that there wouldn’t be enough of it to do anything with.

She’d hoped that even after Violet told her that she’d found a tech journalist who was interested in taking a look at the files and potentially investigate the story. Of course Arkady was a fan of doing whatever they could to stick it to the corporates; she just wished there was a way to do it that wouldn’t involve Violet painting a huge target on her back.

“That’s… good,” Arkady managed, and even she could hear how unconvincing it sounded. Violet looked at her questioningly. “It’s just…” She tried to find a way to word things that wasn’t, ‘I’m afraid that you won’t be safe’. “Once the information is out there, IGR Corp is going to know who leaked it. What happens if they come after you?”

“By that point, they should have bigger things to worry about, if the evidence that Emily Craddock has found is as damning as she says it is,” Violet pointed out. “She’s been looking into that engineer that Seiders mentioned, Alvy Connors. It’s not really clear whether something… happened to him, or whether he just made a run for it, but he definitely disappeared. And it wasn’t that long after he started work on Project ADVANCE.”

As they talked, the other band members had been clearing equipment away and loading it into the van, until Violet and Arkady were the only ones left in the warehouse.

“I know there’s risk involved,” Violet said. “But I can’t just forget everything I’ve learned. And this is bigger than me – I have to do it for Alvy, too, and his family and friends, and everyone else who could be affected by Project ADVANCE. What IGR Corp is doing-”

“I know, I know,” Arkady said. “Don’t get me wrong, I think they deserve to have the cover blown right off their shitty, awful surveillance plan.”

“I’m going to talk to the Captain before I do anything,” Violet assured her. “I know this could affect the band, too. I just wanted to tell you first.”

Why? Arkady wanted to ask, but that would have taken the conversation down a road that Arkady was not prepared to go down. Either Violet would say something like, ‘Because we’re friends’, or ‘Because you’re my bandmate’, and Arkady would feel like a moron for having hoped for anything different. Or she wouldn’t, and that would be worse, because Arkady had no idea how to respond to Violet saying… Well, it didn’t matter, because it would never happen, anyway.

“Sana will tell you to go for it,” she said. “If it’s what you think is right, she’ll be behind you all the way.”

“And… you?” Violet asked quietly.

“I…”

Why was it so hard for Arkady to just say that she approved? Violet was a grown woman who could make her own decisions; she didn’t need Arkady second-guessing her. Violet didn’t even need Arkady to agree with what she was doing – she could just go and do it anyway. But the fact that she’d asked Arkady meant that she cared what Arkady thought… and that made Arkady want to be honest with her.

And honesty was terrifying.

The moment stretched out; Arkady composed and drafted half a dozen different versions of what she wanted to say in her head. ‘I just need you to be careful’ – ugh, that sounded like something Sana would say. Also, of course Violet was going to be careful; that didn’t mean there was no risk involved. ‘I trust you to make the right choice’ – vague, and it also made Arkady feel weird. ‘If they hurt you, they’ll wish they’d never been born’ – alarming, and probably too honest.

Arkady took a breath in, gathering her nerve – and then both of them jumped as the van horn beeped loudly from outside.

“Paging bandmates Liu and Patel!” Krejjh shouted. “Bandmates Liu and Patel to the Rumormobile, please!”

Violet laughed a little, as Arkady huffed, inwardly cursing her own goddamn indecision. She’d spent so long trying to figure out what to say that she’d lost the chance to say anything.

“I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Violet said, slanting a small smile in Arkady’s direction.

“I trust you,” Arkady found herself saying, almost without meaning to. Violet looked puzzled, and Arkady scrambled to clarify. “Uh, that is – if you think this is the right thing to do. Then, you should… do it. Just…”

She still couldn’t say it, but Violet’s smile widened, her eyes softening like she knew what Arkady was trying (and failing) to tell her. “I’ll be careful,” she promised.

#TSCOSI #Podcast Big Bang 2021 #The Strange Case of Starship Iris #Vikady #Arkady Patel/Violet Liu #Sana Tripathi #Brian Jeeter #Krejjh #Sana/Campbell/Red Gregor #Band AU #RIFT #Piper Tanaka #Kestrel Colvin #screams in emotionally constipated Vikady #which might be my favourite kind of Vikady #Also no disrespect intended to Telemachus by turning it into a soulless consulting firm #It was meant to be a stand-in for Arkady's guard job on Telemachus rather than the planet itself

[imagine-that-haikyuu]

Anonymous asked:I'm in the mood for some royalty!au these days ^^ how about bodyguard/knight/butler!iwachan with princess!reader? a bit of angst and fluff would be awesome! i already know I'm gonna love it because I always love your writing, so could you maybe also do this scenario with reversed roles in the future?

This is the long overdue reverse scenario! I decided to go with Prince!Iwaizumi and Court Dancer!reader. Having a Knight!reader would have been badass, but I ended up coming up with this idea first. I was heavily inspired by a production of The Winter’s Tale by the RSC that I watched one time in class during undergrad and because harvest festivals are fun! 

You can read Princess!reader and Knight!Iwaizumi here.

- Admin Rachel Lauren

Ko-Fi

There’s almost no order to what’s happening at the moment. A life inside the palace mostly has left Iwaizumi with no knowledge of what he’s supposed to do. One would think that as heir to the throne, he would have at least gone into the village from time-to-time to visit his subjects, especially during such an important festival. But the sad reality is that at eighteen, this is the first time Iwaizumi has been to the harvest festival. 

What’s worse is that it took convincing on Oikawa’s part to get him to do this. They used to do something similar years ago, sneaking out of the palace whenever his fellow prince came to visit. They would don civilian street clothing and try to be “normal” for the day. (Oikawa usually tried to hit on older  village girls, who were charmed by the then thirteen-year-old prince, but hardly wooed. Iwaizumi was more than embarrassed by his antics).

So of course, when Prince Oikawa comes to visit his oldest and dearest friend again, he urges them to take up their old habit. It doesn’t take much to convince Iwaizumi to do anything as long as Oikawa knows exactly how to do so. And Oikawa knows exactly how to do so.

“Ah, that pretty court dancer you like is away visiting her family in the village, right? There’s a good chance you’ll run into her, I’m sure.”

At this, Iwaizumi grumbles, but agrees.

Now, he finds himself separated from his best friend, wandering through a crowd of unfamiliar face after unfamiliar face at night. Children run past without looking and almost barrel into him with delighted giggles. Their squeals seem to give way to more boisterous laughter and upbeat music. The noise grabs his attention, sure enough, and he glances in its direction. 

When his eyes fall upon the scene before him, they widen and his heart picks up its pace. A small folk band is playing to a small crowd of a few dancers, among them: you. This is the first time he’s seen you outside of the palace, so he doesn’t quite know what to think of this yet. The dance is free-wheeling despite the partner work between participants, but it’s simple enough to be learned by anyone (even after a few drinks). 

Still, the sight of you taking part in such a lively dance surprises him . It’s so unlike what he’s seen from you before in court: normally poised, polished, and somewhat demure style of dance. That’s how you managed to charm him in the first place.

You’re smiling so widely, laughing with such unbridled joy each time you take the arm of the next person in the lineup, it’s hard for him to not be charmed by this version of you as well. He watches you spin and spin and spin, and loses himself  in a trance, barely noticing that you’ve stumbled awfully close to him until you’ve stumbled into him.

It’s only after he catches your arm that Iwaizumi realizes that his disguise is hardly a disguise.

“Excuse me, I got carried away there,” you say with a playful tone. You start to flash a smile, but your whole demeanor drops the second you lock eyes with his green ones. Instead you, straighten your stance and attempt a more dignified air. “Your Majes--”

His hand quickly covers your mouth and he shushes you. “Not here.”

You nod, catching his drift before he even says anything else. No one seems to have heard you anyway. Or if they did, they’re too drunk to care. Iwaizumi pulls his hand away and only then does he notice the faint blush across your face. You’ve probably been dancing like that for a while. Maybe you had a little to drink as well; it is the harvest festival after all.

“Would you like to dance?” you ask suddenly. There’s a spark in your eye that’s bewitching him easily enough, but even Iwaizumi snaps back to reality.

“I don’t know how. Well, at least not this kind of dancing.” He’s well-versed in formal dances, but nothing as frenzied and free-wheeling as what you were doing moments prior.

“Don’t worry about that!” You take his arm and practically drag him out into the circle of dancers. “These were made to be picked up easily. Besides, if the drunkest of men can still make their way through them, then you’ll have no problem!”

You place yourself at his side, facing away from him while you link his arm with yours. “Just follow my lead. Once the music starts we’ll just skip in a circle ‘round each other for a bit.”

The music starts and the two of you do just that. “And then you’ll turn me, take two steps to your right and send me off to your left. Then you’ll start over with your next partner. Ready? Go!”

“Huh?!”

Iwaizumi gets lost in the whirlwind, and you mostly lead yourself through the pattern. Nonetheless, you’re ever cheerful as you free spin away from him with a “woo!”. He has little time to watch you more. His next partner has already linked arms with him and the sequence starts over. Iwaizumi finds himself picking up the steps with each passing partner. He joins in on the whoops and hollers from the other dancers, laughing all the while. Finally, you’ve made your way back to him. Your face lights up when you link arms with him again.

And then the song ends. The crowd cheers for the band and all dancing; Iwaizumi basks in the glory of it all. Is this how you always feel after a performance?

“Your Ma--um, should we get something to drink?”

He nods and links his arm with yours, feeling a little bolder now thanks to all that fun, and leads you to the tent where cider is being served. You happen to know the couple running the tent from town, and the wife chats you up for the moment to see how you’re doing. While your occupied by that conversation, her husband motions for Iwaizumi to lean in a little closer to him.

“Wanna get something nice for your girlfriend?”

Iwaizumi feels the heat rise to his face again. This time, however, it isn’t from dancing or the alcohol in the cider.

“Er, she’s not my--”

“Over there they’re selling some lovely flower crowns.” He points to a tent a few vendors down the row. “You should get_____ a good one.”

Iwaizumi nods and takes note of some of the options. You’d look lovely in any of them, however, there is one he notices that stands out. With that one, you’d really look like the Queen of the Harvest Festival. You’re still engrossed in your conversation, so Iwaizumi sneaks off quickly to make the purchase. The vendor names her price and Iwaizumi pulls out his spending money. He didn’t bring much with him (he didn’t anticipate on buying much in the first place), and the disappointment settles in when he realizes it’s not enough.

“How about 30 for it?” he begs. The woman sighs. With a finger outstretched, she points to the “NO HAGGLING” sign hanging behind her.

Iwaizumi groans and looks around as if it will give him guidance. Amazingly, it does, because coming down the row is none other than Oikawa with a village girl on his arm. Oikawa smiles as he approaches his friend.

“There you are Iwa-chan! I was worried about you.”

“Oikawa! Lend me some money!”

“Eh?” Oikawa blinks at Iwaizumi and then looks to the flower crowns on display. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices you not too far away still chatting with the cider vendor. He smiles playfully and pulls out his coin purse. “Consider it an early birthday gift, then.”

With that, Iwaizumi is able to purchase the crown.

“I owe you one,” he says.

“I already said it’s an early birthday gift.” Oikawa clicks his tongue before giving Iwaizumi an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Now, go get your cute dancer.”

As Iwaizumi smirks and makes his way back to you, he can’t help but laugh as the girl on Oikawa’s arm asks for a flower crown too and Oikawa realizing that he’s now short on money for that. Just as he returns, you’ve finished up your conversation. You bid goodbye to the couple and turn back to Iwaizumi, who’s no longer empty-handed. The sight of the ornate accessory he’s holding takes you aback.

It’s a beautiful flower crown with vibrant red, orange, and yellow flowers woven skifully through sticks and twigs. 

“What’s this?’ you ask, blinking all the while.

“Is there someplace quieter we can go?”

You nod and take his hand as you lead him to the outskirts of the festival grounds near the woods. The crowds have dispersed here with the exception of a few young couples looking for a little solace and romantic scenery. All the festivities seem so far away now. The music and noise from the festival-goers sound in the distance. The two of you take a seat on a fallen log just along the wood’s edge.

Iwaizumi clears his throat and begins, presenting the crown to you as he speaks. “This is a gift for you. For showing me a good time while I’m here.” 

“You...you didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to.”

He lifts the crown up and you bow your head to give him enough room to place it for you. You hold it with both your hands as you regain your posture.

“Thank you,” you say. You grin widely and tentatively lower your hands once you feel it’s secure enough on your head. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

A small gasp leaves your lips. Iwaizumi can’t believe he just said that and without a hint of hesitation to boot. His face starts to feel hot, so he coughs once, hoping to dispel some of the embarrassment. He only gets one cough, though, because before he realizes it, your lips are pressed to his for a brief moment.

If he thought he was red before, he should see his face now. You’re looking pretty flushed yourself as well. 

You chirp, “Um, was that…?”

“Fine! It was fine!”

An awkward silence passes before the both of you burst into laughter. Iwaizumi leans in to kiss you once more, this time a little longer and more deliberate, but still very sweet. Even though he’s a prince, and he’s not sure if his position will allow him to marry a court dancer, he still fancies you royalty as the Queen of the Harvest Festival. For him, that’s more than enough.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! scenarios #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa tooru #royalty!au #request #admin rachel lauren

[yukiwrites]

Edelgard, Comforted

Thanks for the support once again, @xpegasusuniverse! It was really fun to work on this unlikely duo!

This is a Support Chain C-A between Raphael and Edelgard!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

C SUPPORT

Raphael: Huff! *thud* There ya go! A pile of new books, special delivery from Raphael!

Man: Thank you so much for carrying that mountain of books from the old storeroom, Raphael. You did it in one trip, too! I never saw someone carry so many books at once.

Raphael: Haha, no need to thank me! My muscles love to help folks with heavy lifting!

Man: W-well then, thank you, Raphael’s, uh, muscles. I’ll need to file these now, if you’ll excuse me…

Raphael: Sure! My pleasure!

Raphael: Man, I’m really not used to coming here like I should… I can already hear the Professor telling me to study… or my classmates… Maybe I could look for something- huh? Is that Edelgard over there?

Edelgard, on her own: It seems I chose the worst time to browse the library. No empty ladders in sight.

Raphael: Hey there, Edelgard! You look troubled; are the books giving you a headache too?

Edelgard: Ah, Raphael, hello. I suppose you could say that. As you can see, all ladders are either occupied by other students or out of service and the book I seek is quite out of my reach. I do not think even Hubert would be able to get it if he were here...

Raphael: Oh, book searching? I just helped the library guy here with that! Leave it to me! Is that the one with the red cover you wanted?

Edelgard: Hm, if you would not mind to aid me, then I will accept the help. Yes, it is the one with the red cover. Perhaps if I could read the title of the others beside it, I would ask for more, however, as it stands...

Raphael: Hrrrmmmm…!! Hrrrrm! Oh, wow, this is really high! Even my feet muscles can’t make me reach ‘em!

Edelgard: So he wasn’t listening to me. Oh well.

Edelgard: Raphael? Thank you for offering to help, I will simply return at a quieter time to-

Raphael: No no, wait, I got it! You can just sit on my shoulders!

Edelgard: What are you imply- wai- unhand me- agh!

Raphael: You’re as light as you look, Edelgard! You should eat more if you wanna grow up big like Big Bro Raphael!

Edelgard: I’ll- thank you if-agh! Keep steady, I am losing my balance-

Raphael: Whoa, there, I gotcha, Edelgard! Take your time!

Edelgard: I-I have gotten the books; let me down this instant, please.

Raphael: Alleyoop, there you go! That wasn’t so bad, was it? And you got more than one, too!

Edelgard, blushing: I do not know if I should be thankful that everyone seems to be minding their own business or not.

Edelgard: Anyway, I will not let a favor go without a word of thanks. So I thank you for your assistance, Raphael. As rough and sudden as it may have been.

Raphael: You’re welcome! You can always ask Big Bro Raph for help!

Edelgard: ...

Raphael: Huh? Did I say something wrong? Wait! I get it! I did it again, didn’t I? Sorry I just put you on my shoulders like that! It was a force of habit from trying to help my hard-headed little sis!

Edelgard: I suppose you did not notice you were also patting my head just now?

Raphael: Whoa, was I? I guess you remind me of my little sis more than I thought! Sorry about that.

Edelgard: …

Edelgard: It was… fine. It was a refreshing feeling to be treated like a little sister again after so long. Thank you once again for your help, Raphael. Now I need to check these out, if you’ll excuse me.

Raphael: Sure, no prob! You can always rely on Big Bro Ralph, though, alright? Me ‘n’ my muscles will be there to help anytime you need!

Raphael leaves.

Edelgard: Big brother, huh…

B SUPPORT

Raphael: I’m glad Ms. Cook is such a nice lady, she always leaves something on top of the kitchen table for me! Yum, that was a great midnight snack, so now I can sleep like a log to get even stronger tomorrow!

Raphael: Huh? Is that a person over there? Who’s wandering ‘round the pond at this hour? Maybe they’re tryna fish? But don’t fish sleep, too? I don’t think they’d bite… Unless they’re looking for a midnight snack like me, haha!

Edelgard, on her own: ....

Raphael: Hey, it’s Edelgard!

Raphael approaches.

Raphael: Edelgard! What’re you doing up so late? Wait, you look pale, even more than usual! Is that the moonlight or did you eat something bad and got a stomach ache?

Edelgard: Hello there again, Raphael. *sighs* It would have been better if it were a simple stomach ache. As it stands, it was just a bad dream.

Raphael: Oh, alright. So you can’t sleep, huh?

Edelgard: To simplify it, yes.

Raphael: That sucks. I hate it when I can’t sleep.

Raphael: You know what? Take this and this here too. Ms. Cook always leaves me food so I got some to eat on my way back to my room, too.

Edelgard: Are these… cupcakes? As I recall, the dining hall is closed after curfew.

Raphael: Yeah! You like sweets, right? I sometimes see you smiling all to yourself when we’re havin’ sweets week!

Edelgard: Do I now…? How discomposing. And here I thought I kept my emotions in check.

Raphael: It’s fine! I’m sure only people who eat lots like me noticed! Anyway, I always get a real good sleep after eating, so you should eat those and head straight to bed!

Edelgard, smiling: Thank you, Raphael. It seems you are turning out to be most helpful to me as of late.

Raphael: Aw, it’s no problem! Like I said, you can always rely on Big Bro Ralph!

Raphael: I know! If you don’t wanna go all the way back upstairs, why not just crash in my room? You can keep the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor. With how delicious Ms. Cook’s midnight snacks are, I’m sure we’ll be out real soon.

Edelgard: To your… room?

Raphael: Yeah, it’s really over there, I think if you twitch your head a lil’ you can see it from here! I love sleeping so close to the dining hall!

Raphael: Besides, whenever my little sis had a nightmare, she’d come sleep in my room and she’d always have the biggest of smiles the next day! She said I ‘attract good dreams’ or something. She dreamed of eating a cloud one night after having a nightmare so scary she had spent a long time crying! I wish I had dreamed of eating a cloud… I wonder what they taste like.

Edelgard, smiling: I assume they must be sweet. Though perhaps not as much as these cupcakes.

Edelgard: …

Edelgard: If you would not mind, Raphael, I would accept your invitation. It would be a wonderful change of pace to dream of sweets.

Raphael: Alright! Then let’s roll, ‘cause I’m already getting sleepy and I still got some food left to finish!

B+ SUPPORT

Edelgard: You can do it if you want to, Raphael. I must admit I am impressed.

Raphael: You think so? I’m surprised I got that answer right, too! The Professor really is good at what they’re doing if even doing brain stuff is working out for me!

Edelgard: The Professor does have credit for having a comprehensible teaching style, but it is your merit for getting the right answer. Do not undermine your achievements, no matter how small they may seem at the moment.

Raphael: You know what, you’re right! This time I flexed my brain and it worked! Go, brain!

Edelgard, smiling: …

Raphael: I wonder if it would be like this if my little sis were here, too. She’s always been the smart one, you know? She’d be grilling me out along with everyone else, but I think she’d help me just like you are, Edelgard.

Edelgard: Do I remind you of your little sister so much? I noticed she is basically all you talk about after food and training.

Raphael: Hmm, maybe you don’t look so much alike ‘cause you’re more composed, you know? Guess it’s ‘cause you’re a princess and all. But if you weren’t, I think you two’d be like two peas in a pod!

Edelgard: Indeed. I must keep my composure at all times so I can shoulder all that I am meant to have in the future.

Edelgard: And yet, I feel a strange compulsion to allow myself to be vulnerable whenever we are together. I wonder if it is because of your familiarity.

Raphael: Well, I’m nothing if not approachable! And I told you ‘fore, didn’t I? You can rely on me like I’m your Big Brother! I know I wouldn’t mind having another little sis if she were anythin’ like you.

Edelgard: You regard me as family…? Truly?

Raphael: Well, yeah! I’m not asking you to do the same, but if you wanna, I’ll be your Big Bro for the day. Heck, for as long as you need me!

Edelgard: That is… something I have never heard someone say to me before, Raphael. I cannot put it to words on how I feel about this, other than that I DO want to take you up on your offer.

Raphael: Knock yourself out! What can Big Bro Raph do for you today?

Edelgard: It is… Ah, it is rather hard to talk about, now that I actually want to.

Raphael: It’s okay, I know how to keep a secret! Honest. One time, my little sis broke our Mom’s favorite vase when she was realll little, but I told Mom I was the one who broke it ‘cause Maya was looking so sad about it all. They never found out!

Edelgard, smiling: I’m afraid that what I am about to disclose is not as ordinary as that. Can you truly swear to never say this to a soul? Promise on your life?

Raphael: Sounds serious, but don’t worry, Edelgard. I wouldn’t make anything to make my little sis look sad. I promise I won’t tell anyone!

Edelgard: I appreciate it, Raphael. In truth, this is about the nightmare that kept me up the other day, as well as its roots…

Raphael, nodding: Yeah. I’m listenin’.

Edelgard: I have, so often I have almost forgotten how it was to have a restful night of sleep, persistent nightmares that make me relive the past. A past of seeing my older and younger siblings beg for their lives while people cut open their flesh and insert things within their bodies. A past of a gagged me helplessly struggling to be set free of the tight chains that have never truly healed.

Raphael: Your wrists…! Is that why you’re always covered from head to toe?

Edelgard: Scars from a past that refuses to leave me; nightmares that drown out happy times I may have lived with my siblings. They were all full of hope and dreams, Raphael. And they were robbed of it all; robbed of their future by people who simply wanted more and more power.

Edelgard: So this Edelgard von Hresvelg was born, at the cost of my siblings’ lives and my memories of happier times. The only one who remained to change this rotten world, to-

Raphael: Hey, it’s alright. You don’t need to go on while you’re crying like this. Come here.

Edelgard: Crying…? I am? I thought I was beyond that by now; that my tears have all dried.

Raphael: You’re gonna be alright, Edelgard. I can’t do anything to change the past, but I’m gonna get stronger than anyone else and I’m gonna be right there to protect you in place of your brothers who couldn’t.

Edelgard: T-thank you, Raphael, for your kindness. And your warmth.

Raphael: No need to thank me, little sis. These arms were made for huggin’!

Edelgard, smiling: Indeed…

A SUPPORT

Raphael: Hngh… Oomph… Hhngh… oomph! Just one more time…! Hngh… Oomph! There!

Crashing sound.

Raphael: Phew! Those logs sure were heavy, but now I can feel my muscles bulging! I’m gonna be even stronger now!

Edelgard, smiling: (Made for hugging. Right.)

Raphael: Oh! I didn’t see you there, Edelgard! Need something? I was just going to the dining hall. I’m starving, I gotta feed my muscles while they’re bulging. Wanna come with?

Edelgard: I was about to invite you to come with me, so yes.

Raphael: Really? Well, alright, then! Food tastes better when you’re eating with someone else, I always say!

Scene changes to the Dining Hall.

Raphael: *munch munch* You’re eating so little! Here, have a bit of mine! That’s why you didn’t grow at all during these years! C’mon, eat more!

Edelgard: I have had my fill, Raphael, thank you. Besides, I wanted to ask you something. But perhaps after you do not have food all over yourself.

Raphael: Huh? I’m only getting started! C’mon, ask anything you want! Today’s meat is so good I think I’ll just stay here and eat till it’s breakfast again!

Edelgard: Heh, very well then. I wanted to ask the reason why you allied yourself with the Empire even though that meant war against the Alliance where you were born. Oftentimes you’ve mentioned how much you enjoyed the village you grew up in.

Raphael: *snarfs* Hm? But that’s easy! My village is in the territory of a noble who’s on the side of the Empire, so we never really needed to attack it. ‘Sides, Claude’s doing a good job of holding everyone together in the Alliance, so I’m not worried ‘bout my little sis back there. And since I was worried ‘bout THIS little sis here, I had to come with to protect her!

Edelgard, surprised: ...

Raphael: *munch munch* You okay? You stopped eating.

Edelgard: I am… astonished. Are you truly keeping your promise from when we were students? And still seeing me as your little sister?

Raphael: Muh? Aren’t you? I said I’d always help you out as your brother, so if you don’t see me as a Big Bro anymore, that’s fine by me. I’ll still stay by your side to protect you, though! It’s kinda like my duty now, you know?

Edelgard: I… see. That is very kind of you, Raphael, as I remember I keep mentioning.

Raphael: *slurp* Nah, it’s fine. I really just want to help you however I can ‘cause I wanna protect your future. I can’t do anything ‘bout your past but I can always offer up my hugging muscles! See? Hrrk! They’re in top form today!

Edelgard, smiling: As always, I see.

Edelgard: I appreciate everything you do, Raphael. Once again, allow me to thank you.

Raphael: No problem! Now, you gonna eat that or not? Oh, I can ask Ms. Cook to bring out those cupcakes you like!

Edelgard: That would be lovely.

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #edelgard fire emblem #raphael fire emblem #edelgard von hresvelg #my writings #support chains #yuki's commissions

[straighttohellbuddy]

Honestly, I cried like, five times yesterday. Three of them were at work, once in front of a customer. People get so shitty at this time of year and I’m just like “I know that taking your anger out on us is a convenient thing, but it’s not nice or fair!! don’t do it!!” So I’m trying to get through but I get a day off on the 23rd so I plan to sleep in.

Lmao I fully get the feeling with the whole western world, as someone who follows the pagan holidays i try not to eye roll too much (my manager has caught me a few times and just laughed lmao) but I love that your love language is gift giving!! It’s one of mine too!! So I fully get it!! I’m glad you were able to find the right gift for your mum tho!! Hearing abt gifts makes me excited for the intended recipient lol. I’m so v lucky to have chosen family I do have as well as my mum in my life. It’s easier w technology mercifully, but my other love language is touches and I’m literally so touch starved 😩😂 but you’re too sweet 🥺 🧡

I feeeel you with treating yourself like a toddler tho!! I try to keep my habit of eating when I immediately come home from work but some days I barely make it past my bathroom and I’m showered and crawling into bed lol. But I’m trying to keep routine. I’ve noticed alarms sometimes help but if I stop instead of snooze them rip my schedule for the evening lmao. Rambling is good, I do it too!! -🐈‍⬛

Sorry this took so long to get to!! i'm so sorry about how you've been treated, seriously im sending you all the love and good vibes, and i hope you get to take a well earned break soon 🧡🧡🧡 we love a good chosen family!! im glad to be back in my home town because the folks who i consider my irl chosen family live here too, and i get to see them!! i'm excited!! mum's super hard to buy for, but she really likes, like, weirdly showy sneakers, like she had a sparkly gold pair for a while there, and she's currently wearing a floral pair, and i saw an ad on insta for a collaboration between Vans and MoMA, and DUDE they have her favourite painting (Monet's Water Lillies) on shoes!! so yeah im mad happy abt it. i didn't used to get touch starved really, im painfully introverted, socially anxious, and probably a little paranoid, so it was really hard to reach out to people and my body was kind of the same i guess?? but now im in love with a girl in another country and i just wanna be able to see her in person so i YEARN so much, and being touch starved in The Worst!!! though i have been trying to be more open with people irl, i messaged one of my best friends this morning telling him that i miss him and would like a hug next time we're in the same town so fingers crossed its soon. some time in january. ah man, i hope you get all the solid hug and affirming touches you need soon. i believe in u and ur routine!! honestly if i could sacrifice a little bit of my good routine for a decent amount of sleep each night, i would, but i literally have too many ideas in my head so im constantly writing, which means im awake, which means im having reasonable meals and showering but not really sleeping.

#black cat anon #your local homosexual with no chill #Anonymous

[ghostphoenix-kry]

k so ur always tagging goofy shit w lilith or amelia, so like i wanna know their deal, like give me a whole info dump

My friend, I will gladly dump some of my shit on them out for you,,, these two are particular favorites along with Sol. Also I am so sorry this turned out so long and so incoherent. I couldnt figure out what all to say about them and I forgot some of the things I could say about them.

Its really long.

I'll start off with the standard Lilith for now.

Lilith is a French musician and criminal in the Cowboy Times that are Red Dead Redemption. A woman with a lot of pride and an inability to take anyone's shit.

She grew up a single child with parents that firmly believed she needed to form herself to their ideas of life. She needed to be as perfect as possible to them and to her future husband. She needed to learn to be the ideal wife or she would fail in life. For years she tried to live up to their expectations but it was never enough and it wasnt healthy at all, so she got fed up with it and left home.

Out there in the 'real world' she developed a talent for musical performance and found out the hard way that relationships are painful and sketchy at best. After falling for the charms and promises of countless pretty faces and kind smiles, the lies coated in sweet words claiming love and devotion, she realized that people lie a lot. And that there were too many pompous men that seemed to think themselves entitled to nightly affection and heart, only to take it and fuck off with it.

Granted, she understood that it was naivety on her end and a want to feel some sense of being wanted that got her there. After a while of hoping the next time would be different and having it end up just the same, she decided she was done. A coldness had begun to sink in then, a hatred and bitterness towards the idea of folks flirting with her or attempting to pull the wool over her eyes with falsified affection.

So, Lilith said fuck this noise, and decided that if those rich and disloyal men were so sure of themselves and their worth to her, that she would use it. She would lean into it while remaining distant.

She would learn to lie incredibly well.

So she did just that. She performed as always, but it wasnt about the pocket change people would give her. Now she would seek out those pompous rich bastards herself, using tactics to suggest interest and letting them decide it was an invitation. Only to leave with them at night and leave them ass up in a ditch, their wallets now marginally lighter, and their faces a bit less perfect.

She became a temptress and a thief. And she became powerful and proud. Travelling from town to town in order to escape the law, she continued her performances and acts, targeting more unfortunate men with a momentous burden being in their wallet.

This said, she isn't inherently bitter towards everyone. But she definitely composes herself with an air of undeniable authority around other people. Essentially a vibe that for the most part tells people not to try anything or they will find her hands in their face before they can catch them.

Within a few small groups, her guard is lowered and she allows herself to be more relaxed though. Letting her usage of French slip out along with her humor and need to be earning her keep and helping out. She is used to being alone, so she wants to contribute somehow to anyone she might be staying with in order to convince herself and others that she is indeed helping. Look! I am doing work! Please let me stay! Usually these are the people she grows fond of and will protect with terrifying ferocity.

She is also at times though, a little bit dumb of ass. Lilith is fluent in French and in English, but there are words still in English that she thinks she knows but does not. For instance she gets confused by the names for baby animals and is quite convinced that quite a few baby animals are just -insert animal name- + "ling" (Piglings, chickenlings, gooselings, etc) In the times her inner idiot shows, she will get very flustered and embarrassed. She feels she is supposed to be smooth and intimidating afterall. Not to mention formal.

Also while she has very much given up on recieving love from another, and is quite against the prospect of a relationship, she does still catch feelings for people on occasion. And it always kind of scares her. But an affectionate or fond Lilith is an incredibly soft one that has a lot of love to give but is a bit hesitant to give it.

Lass is also very maternal in nature, even despite being a bit pissy. She wants to protect.

TLDR; Lilith Streith is bitter French musician and thief who does not trust getting close to men, but does find that the nice ones who are respectful are really super cool and she likes them a lot.

Amelia Alexi on the other hand, is quite the opposite.

Miss Alexi is a Grade-A gunslinger and mercenary in the Cowboy Times, a very annoyed and fed up deputy in FarCry, a S.T.A.R.S. agent that's too willing to fight literally anything in Resident Evil, and overall, a professional pun-slinging dumbass with sleep and trust issues.

I'm going to go with Cowboy Times storyline and traits because it's a bit better thought out at this time.

Amelia grew up with a brother and her parents, all of which she was very close with. She was brought up in a musical family, and a family that was very keen on the idea of being kind and doing what is right. They hunted and grew a good majority of their food, but were well enough liked by the nearby town too. They were good folks that helped a lot of people.

In a series of quite unfortunate events, some of which inadvertantly brought on by herself, Amelia found herself alone, wanted by the law for murder, and riddled with guilt and wrath. Her parents having disappeared on her and her brother, only for her brother to be executed for a crime she committed.

The law failed her brother big time, the judge having said guilty with little to no evidence of her brother's involvement. And seeming how it was her crime, she is so hurt and angered by his death. Wrath builds in her rather quickly, and she takes it out on those who caused it, killing off those crooked men of the law in a fury before stealing a horse and bolting, killing off any pursuers who come too close.

Those mental wounds continue to fester and her rage ends up directed towards the law as an entirety. They are liars and snakes. And if they want to come after her now, she won't hesitate to send them back to their maker.

Despite her resolve, she finds herself faced with nightmares and visions a plenty. Nightmares that startle her awake and leave her in tears. Nightmares about her brother's death, and the death's of so many others she has and hasn't met. They are painful and terrifying to her, so she soon decides the only way to avoid them would be to avoid the medium they come across, sleep.

Thus the first of her horrible care habits begins as Amelia cuts out sleep. Avoiding it at any cost, which soon enough weighs on her and causes a bit of paranoia. Constantly fatigued and constantly on high-alert, she somehow manages to retain her gun-slinging abilities and sharp senses for the most part, but unfortunately finds that her body will forcibly shut down on her and make her black out when it decides its had enough. Usually in rather unfortunate times and places.

The back of her horse

In the middle of a field

In a chair

In a tree

In the middle of cleaning her weapons

All over the place. Not ideal, but she is a surprisingly lucky lass, and nobody goes looking for a killer and expecting her to be passed out in the middle of the road.

Anyway, back to important stuff.

Due to the reputation she gains amongst the law, she finds herself being lassoed into a rather sketchy group of people. A den of vipers, men and women with guns and knives to lend. She finds herself in a guild of mercenaries, run by one Mama Morgen. The Queen of the den.

Amelia is soon enough stuck with the den, being called out to snuff out lives in return for money as well as assurance that Mama Morgen wouldnt turn those hired weapons on her for knowing too much.

While Amelia is usually apathetic anymore, too tired and done with life to care about others and too sure to keep her distance to get close enough to care, she is still a sweet hearted little woman. A lonely one, a tired and jaded one, but a sweet one.

She has odd habits and a sense of humor, finding some amusement in shitty jokes and some peace in playing a nice music piece on her violin. Her fury is strong, but it remains directed at those who wronged her so badly in the past. People aren't inherently bad, she can get along well enough with people, as she has retained her old kindness.

When she is comfortable with someone, she too tends to grow fond and protective of them. While she is far less maternal in nature, she doesnt want her friends to feel any kind of pain or anguish. To her they are deserving of the best and only the best, so she works hard to keep them free of danger or stress. To cheer them up and make them laugh when they do find themselves stressed or hurt. Within the short leddy, there is a lot of care to provide for those that she thinks have earned it.

Amelia can also be a bit sassy and dumb of ass as well. And proves it frequently. Any possible feelings she may catch are not registered as feelings until it hits her like a brick when she realizes that cuddling and snoozing with a person on a nightly basis is not a thing most people do when they're just friends. And trying to do horse tricks and cool stunts in front of a person to impress them is not entirely normal either.

Also, she does a lot of stunts. Miss Alexi is fond of two things: The warmth of a thousand suns, and The Thrill. Has on multiple occasions jumped off of cliffs in order to land in the water below, especially when being pursued. Though she does enjoy being pursued as well, especially in a rather cruel way when it's the law pursuing her.

She is intelligent as a person, but her common sense isn't always present and she is likely to crack a joke or impulsively steal things at inopportune times. There is little impulse control.

She is alive because of luck, spite, and an uncanny ability to shoot really quickly. Nothing more.

#thank you for the ask though I'm sorry i become so horrible at explaining things when I'm actually asked #i just have SO MUCH to say but don't want to make it too long #BUT SERIOUSLY THANK YOU AND IM SORRY FOR ALWAYS TAGGING MY DUMBASS KIDS #oc: Lilith #oc: Amelia #long post #tw murder #also you can ask for more if you want more specific stuff on anything #or if you just want some interesting facts and bits on them #be it AUS or anything else

[yeats-infection]

hard agree with ur roommate on that WIP, that snippet was sooo good oml

by popular demand, here’s what i have so far of the possibly never-to-be-finished or maybe eventually-to-be-finished band of brothers weed farm AU, tentatively titled PURPLE HAZE, below the cut: 

Dick was no hippie. He was also no fool. “We’ve got to hide it from the air,” he said thoughtfully.

“The real pros plant it between rows of corn,” Nix told him.

All in all this was going better so far than he had thought it would.  

“What do we do with all the damned corn?”

“Why, moonshine, of course.”

“That’s pushing your luck,” Dick said. He was a real pragmatist. “How do you know all this?”

Nix scratched his head. He knew it was his poker tic, and he knew that Dick would know that too. “Family connections,” he said.

“I thought your family connections were in the fertilizer business,” said Dick, who knew this well, in fact, having worked for said company, for a brief time after the war, during the period when they had all independently decided they were going to try to hack it in the Real World.

“Well, what do you think they started off fertilizing?”

Dick hesitated. “I just don’t know why you never told me any of this before,” he said. “You haven’t made a habit of lying to me.”

“This was just omission.” Nix shrugged. “You’re a straight laced kind of man.”

“That I never wanted to drop acid with you when we were over there doesn’t mean I’m… entirely opposed to mind-altering substances.”

Nix had sure as hell fielded a lot of dirty looks, and, worse, concerned looks, in the CP over in Vietnam, when he closed the tent flaps behind himself and Dick after some particularly rough patrol or briefing and sparked a joint. Dick had always put a thoughtful hand up to go with the dirty or concerned looks, because Nix had always offered the joint to him, even knowing he wouldn’t take it. Especially knowing he wouldn’t take it.

“Well,” Nix said, “before I brought this proposal to you I wanted to make sure I had retained anything at all from my degree in horticulture.”

He took the film canister out from his pocket and put it between them on the kitchen table. For a moment Dick studied him, and then he grabbed the canister and opened it and poured the contents out onto one of the nice floral cotton placemats that had been made for him by his sister.

“I’m calling it Easy Diesel,” said Nix.

“You’ve got to be god damn kidding me,” said Dick, but he picked up one of the larger of the buds and carefully started pulling it apart. They had come out nice, if Nix did say so himself. They were big and sticky and a psychedelic iridescent purple-green.

“It’s my own breed,” Nix went on, wondering if he sounded desperate. He sure as hell felt desperate, not least for a god damn toke. “Good for sleeping.”

Dick cocked a pale eyebrow in his direction. “It helps you sleep?”

“Sure, this strain does, but I can breed different strains that’ll make you feel different things…”

“Nix, you grew this?”

He turned the bud in the light through the kitchen window, curiously, like a jewel.

“Well, I grew its grandparents from seeds, and then I crossed them, and this is the cross, second generation, grown from a cutting.”

“How many of these have you got?”

“Four in my bathtub in Jersey,” Nix said. “I’ve been showering at my sister’s. Couple more in the basement too, under a light.”

“And where do you get the seed?”

He’d hoped not to have to involve Dick in this part of it. “I have a contact,” he said.

“Nix, if I’m going to go in on this with you, I need to be an equal partner.”

“Fine. It’s Spiers.” As it had been over there. “You know he lives in Texas now, and he can get seed from Mexico. But I don’t need him anymore unless we want to grow another strain.”

“We might want to keep that in mind,” said Dick.

“Alright. I’ll write to him.” He indicated the bud in Dick’s hand. “We might want to try that before you sign on the dotted line.”

Dick passed the bud back across the table to Nix who set about expertly shredding it into flakes. “I don’t have any papers,” Dick said, watching him.

Nix cocked an eyebrow. “You used to smoke rollies exclusively!”

“Been trying to quit cigarettes. You just can’t keep anything in the house.” At Nix’s upward glance he said, “This is fine, though. As long as you have a way to smoke it.”

“You think I’d come all this way and level you with this without a way to smoke it?”

Nix had a little pipe in his overnight bag. He packed it and they lit up. The rest was history.

--

Nix had enlisted right after college. He didn’t want to go through the whole song and dance of avoiding the draft, and his father was breathing down his neck, having gotten a Purple Heart at Monte Casino in the Second World War. Dick had signed up straight out of high school, having believed out of his damnable earnestness that it was the right thing to do. Dick was like the “some folks are born, made to wave the flag” line from the beginning of “Fortunate Son,” but none of the bad stuff after. That was just the way he was. He had been at boot camp then in school learning to be an officer. They saw each other summers and went to the drive in movie theater and talked about the news from the Soviet bloc, and about spies and space and music. Sometimes Dick had Things to Say about the stuff Nix was learning about at Yale, like colonialism and hegemony, but they argued about it good naturedly and then they moved on to arguing about music. Dick liked those Greenwich Village folkies and he was legitimately let down when Dylan went electric. Nix had Are You Experienced on repeat. There were other things they didn’t talk about at all, like that Nix had read Alfred Kinsey’s reports in class and thought of himself first as a one, then as a two, then a three, and now intermittently as a four, sometimes even a five. The truth was he only incidentally thought of any people who weren't Dick. He couldn’t even regret being doomed to such a sorry condition, because being around Dick was such a joy. It was a joy, in its brutal way, even when they were over there. It was a joy when he had forgotten he could feel joy.

Now, after everything, Dick had all this land, off Route 6 not far from the New York border, on which the trees moved quietly, and the hills were low and green. He had all that land, and just about nothing else, because he had spent just about every penny of his salary from Nixon Nitration and his war pension and his inheritance from his parents' deaths buying that plot to get himself away from the world. In New Jersey, working for his father as little more than a body in a suit, Nix had just about everything he wanted, except his own soul. That was somewhere yet to be seen. In Vietnam, he must have put it down somewhere, like his helmet or his canteen or something, except that he had forgotten to pick it up. This had happened to most of them, except for Dick, who had doggedly held onto his somehow as he had also held onto his life, his relative sanity, his damnable good looks, and his even more damnable good humor.

The big idea was a relatively obvious one to Nix, who had had his first toke in San Francisco just before shipping out, and who drove out to Dick’s farm twice a month or so to shoot the shit at the kitchen table and lie sleepless in the twin bed in the guest room listening to the woods and the snoring from the next room over and debating numerous impossibilities until dawn, when he would get up and go down to the fallow fields and make estimates as to the soil quality. Then he would make coffee and biscuits. “Well damn, Nix, you didn’t have to do that,” said Dick, coming down around seven, chuffed and bedheaded, which was exactly why Nix had to do it.

He understood he had ulterior motives. But he could make an entire list of reasons why this wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had that weren’t those ulterior motives.

Finally Dick said something like, “I don’t know how I’m going to do this anymore.” They were sitting at the kitchen table in the sunset. He offered Nix a weak smile that might be described as heartbreaking. “Might be scrounging for a job around Nixon Nitration.”

Nix couldn’t help himself, though it did feel like the first second when you had to stand up and start running across an open clearing under enemy fire, before the adrenaline kicked in and everything cleared. He had been waiting for the right moment for what felt like his entire life. “You wanna know what I think?”

Dick’s brow tightened. “I always wanna know what you think.”

“But do you really wanna know what I think.”

--

It was expensive to get a grow operation going. Nix had some money, but he’d long since drunk most of his nest egg, so it was barely enough to get seed and nitrogen and decent irrigation. They woke up with the sun and worked the field until it went down, and some nights they came stumbling in at dusk, sunburned, parched, and there was hardly any food to put on the table. It wasn’t much worse than it had been at war — rice, stale bread, cans of beans or tuna fish, hot water with lemon. Ears of steamed or grilled corn, eventually, when the crop got kicking. By night Nix hunched over the grow light in the living room and tended to the hatchlings. “Never seen you act so gentle,” Dick said, putting the radio on, settling onto the couch with the paper, dirt under his fingernails.

“Yeah, well.” His face was hot, not just because of the proximity to the light. “They’re notoriously fragile.”

They shared a joint, went separate ways to bed. Most nights Nix passed out before his head hit the pillow. This was a marked improvement from what things had been like back in Jersey. Who knew the secret all along had been back-breaking agricultural labor? He thought about writing a letter to the Secretary of Veteran’s Affairs or whoever was supposed to be handling the burgeoning public health crisis that was an entire generation's rampant PTSD.

They were accustomed to working hard together. Dick had never been the kind of officer who had gotten off on asking the underlings to do all the shit-shoveling, and Nix had followed suit, only wanting to be an officer half as good as Dick. He remembered participating in a kind of bucket relay, tossing sandbags off a truck toward the CP on one of the many, many nights it flooded. In the highest heat of the day he sat in the cool grass in the shade, drinking too-tart lemonade and puncturing a hose just-so with a knife to lay some makeshift irrigation. Dick came out after a few minutes with what passed for sandwiches. His sunburnt nose was peeling, even though he sometimes put zinc oxide on it like a lifeguard in a soap opera. “Remember when you got hit in the head?”

It was a ricochet that glanced off his helmet — the closest he had come over there to turning in his dance card forever. He had a headache for a few days after, and the doc had moved a flashlight between his eyes with an air of concern. Dick had been quite alarmed. He hovered for a while like some kind of fairy godparent. It was kind of embarrassing, but Nix didn't say anything about it.

“Of course I do.”

“Well,

TK

--

Nix went to town to buy nitrogen at the Agway. On the way back he stopped for cigarettes at the general store. Scanning the magazine rack whilst the shopgirl fished out his Marlboro Reds he nearly had a massive coronary. There was a picture from Vietnam on the cover of Esquire Magazine with the following caption:

HEART OF DARKNESS: D.K. WEBSTER REVISITS VIETNAM

He picked it up. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What’s that?” The shopgirl was a pregnant woman in overalls and a man’s ribbed tank top. She tossed the cigs Nix’s way.

“Nothing.” He showed her the magazine, wishing he had the sleight of hand to just shove it up his shirtsleeve. “I’ll take this too.”

In the parking lot, he checked that the bags of nitrogen were secure in the bed of Dick’s pickup, and then he sat on the back bumper in the profound sun and opened to the table of contents, then, skipping cologne ads and spreads of beautiful women in states of undress, opened to the introductory page preceding Webster’s article. According to the byline, the pictures had been taken by a photographer who had been with their company for a little while, had been all over the country and had disappeared in the Spring of 1970 somewhere on Cambodia’s Highway 1. The article was preceded by a two-page spread of one such photograph of Easy Company on Hill 926 toward Christmas ’69. He looked over the faces of all the boys, naming them, the dead ones and the alive ones and the should have been dead ones and the should have been alive ones, inside his mind, until he came upon the pixelated black mar of his own eyes. Then he folded up the magazine and put it in his back pocket and drove back up to Dick’s farm in something of a fugue state. Over there, on the rare occasions upon which they had access to a Jeep, Dick usually drove it, because Nix was usually under the influence of something or other. Dick could not be gotten under the influence of anything besides grief, or anger, a few times that he let Nix see, and these did not seem to cloud his judgement overmuch. It had been something to see Vietnam that way — like a tourist, watching the forest from the windows, the beach and the water, the blood in the water, the great napalm swaths like deep burned scars. He had thought at first that Dick thought he was stoned and useless, but now he wasn't so sure, and anyway it had felt like a strange gift, like new eyes…

Back at the farm, he practically threw himself down in the better chair pulled up to the kitchen table. He rolled a joint and sparked the end of it. Thus prepared, he took the magazine out of his pocket and began to read:

In March 1969, D.K. Webster appeared before the editor of this magazine and just about prostrated himself before the news desk to ask if he might be permitted to cover the conflict in Vietnam. He flew to Saigon that June and embedded himself with E Company of the elite 101st Airborne, where he remained until February of the following year. Shortly after returning stateside he checked himself into an inpatient mental health facility. Now, three years later, he has at last filed his first story for this magazine. — Ed.

The boys were just about to go to the wire for the night when I got to the camp on Hill 926. The guns among them were varied and babied like children. Spit-shined barrels caught the last sun. The medic came over at the last with speed pills. There was no dinner. I was shaken up, literally, from the chopper, and also figuratively, being as I had been the only living cargo, unloaded en route to Saigon with corpses draped with their camouflage ponchos, ripped through with bulletholes and muddy with blood. I was pretty sure my brain had released the store of psychedelic chemicals you were supposed to get at the moment of death so it was just as well the medic didn’t offer any speed to me, that first night, though he would later.

The boys were my age. Some were younger than me. After some spiteful if hushed debate among themselves they gave me a helmet which had belonged to someone dead. There was blood splattered inside it and nothing to clean it out with. Still, I put it on. The bodies in the chopper had put the fear in me and there were not, absolutely were not, enough cigarettes. I waited for someone to offer me one, but nobody did. Instead the First Sergeant offered me a gun.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

Remembered belatedly you were supposed to call them sir. Some of the grunts snickered.

“Point it and shoot it,” said the First Sergeant.

I’d been in places where they wanted to put a show on for me and in other places where they herded me back onto the chopper as soon as they heard I was a reporter. I had also been in Saigon, where there was not much to do but lie in bed drunk and jerk off until raw. On Hill 926 I was another body with a beating heart. I took the gun and we went to the wire. There were more boys out there taping sixteen clips together so they’d go faster. They had gloves to move the big box guns by the hot barrels but the fabric was wet and rotting. Cassette player spinning Donovan. Somebody had VOODOO CHILD engraved into his helmet. At last somebody gave me a god damn cigarette. You would have needed something to look across what men like these in previous wars might have termed no man’s land. The napalm had turned the edge of the forest into a bridge between this world and Hades. The night fog was coming out of it. Between us and that was barbed wire stretched over blood-slaked mud, hung with charred corpses. Now I was glad there had been no dinner.

The speed was kicking in for just about everybody else. Because there was nothing to shoot at yet they took a keen interest in my well-being. “Keep your head down.” “Keep your mouth shut.” “Keep the belt flat.” “If you get hit, yell for the medic. Only if you get hit!” Finally, “For gods sake wait for one of us before you god damn start shooting.”

I asked them if they ever got friendly fire.

“Medic in 4th Company got killed that way.”

“Took out some of the Lurps in the 67th.”

You were always learning new words which were just ways of saying things that took less time.

“Long range recon patrollers,” explained one of the boys. The nameplate, as well as the sleeves, had come off his jacket, but everybody called him Babe, except for the medic, who called everybody by the surname, and Babe’s was Heffron. When he looked to the forest, he saw something I didn’t, because of his training, and because he had put greasepaint around his eyes, like an ancient Egyptian lady, against the infernal messaging of the high yellow moon. Ready to burst like a pincushion mushroom on the edge of the horizon. “Ours are coming,” he said.

“You see em?”

The call went down the line to hold fire. The movement in the fog and the skeletons of the trees — like actors on a stage, like apparitions, ghosts. There were two negotiating the brutal wasteland, delicately around the landmines. Someone put a flare up. There was a captain and a corporal, differentiable by the insignia upon their tattered uniforms. They wore greasepaint and carried rifles. The corporal had let his rest against his forearm and shoulder so that he could roll a cigarette from a pack of loose tobacco drawn from inside his destroyed fatigue jacket.

A line from Dylan surfaced in the civilian part of my mind: Maggie come fleet foot face full of black soot…

“How long have they been out there?”

“Since yesterday noon.”

The captain went toward the CP to speak to the major. The corporal came into our foxhole and sat up against the sandbags to light the cig he’d just rolled. His boots were so bad he might as well have been barefoot. His eyes were dark, helmet askew and dented. A startling quality of blood on his person not necessarily his own. “How many, Lieb,” said the gunner, Toye.

“Two companies coming down from the mountain camp. Who’s got pills?”

“Two companies?”

“That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

“Lieb, we’re just one company.”

The dark gaze found me. It was like looking back into the edge of the forest, the skeletons and fog, shadows, death lurking close at hand. “Who’s this then?”

Heffron cackled. “They gave us a correspondent.”

--

I made up my mind I had to talk to the LRRP that the boys called Lieb, because he scared the shit out of me.

The Lurps’ job was to go into the woods and try to figure out whereabouts the VC were moving, where they were encamped and the gear they had, their numbers, the locations of their traps and tunnels. The company at the camp on Hill 926 had two men who served this purpose, the captain, Spiers, and the corporal, Liebgott. Rumor was general in the camp about the quantity of VC these men had killed and the things they had seen and done. Between them they had done five tours before this one. Between them they were rumored to have survived a chopper crash, at least three VC ambushes, a court martial, a suicide attempt, a week without sleep, more than fifty parachute drops, booby traps galore, setting foot in the city of Hue, flushing out a collective six VC tunnels, and stepping on a no doubt exaggerated quantity of dud landmines. Spiers was unapproachably scary. He had allegedly executed prisoners on numerous occasions. In the heights of misery when not even the Dexedrine pills could bring you up out of the depths of the fear the men would joke about asking the captain to take them behind the CP and get it over with.

Liebgott, called Lieb, not seeming to understand what this word actually means in the German language, was also a stone killer by all accounts, thoroughly dead in the eyes, like looking at them you were surprised his lips weren’t blue, and they caught no reflection, but he spent all his time at camp, which was slim, listening to Da Capo and The Notorious Byrd Brothers (Do you think it’s really the truth that you see? I’ve got my doubts it’s happened to me) on cassette and chain smoking. This made him seem like someone I might have gotten to know if I had stayed in college, though I understood this was a fallacy. Anyway, by this point I was taking the uppers when the medic offered so I went over of an early morning when he was shaving his face.

He had Love on. “You know you have the same name as this band,” I said.

He was trying to figure out if I was serious. He had the razor poised right over his carotid artery. Under all the greasepaint he had good skin, thin beard, hollow cheeks. His hair was limp and filthy. In another life he might have been good looking. I sat down in the mud. That’s how bad I wanted to talk to him. I sat in the goddamn mud. The mud was made of blood and piss and worse around here. It didn’t even faze him, because he was sleeping in worse every night he was out there.

Tried another in: “You listen to Forever Changes?”

He set the razor gliding again over the bone of his jaw. “Had a tape,” he said. “It rotted.”

“Well, I’ll see if I can get you another one.”

He was trying to get the read on me. “What do you want.”

“Talk to you.”

“Not enough to get shot at out on the wire?”

“This is for Esquire,” I said. “It ain’t for Newsweek.”

He spat in the mud, but it came so perilously close to the toe of my left boot that it might’ve been intentional. “Can’t say I’d make a good centerfold,” he said. His face was twitching with the smile he was playing like he was too tough to put on it. “Even in lingerie.”

I liked him, though he made himself very difficult to like, and was out in the bush with Captain Spiers more nights than not; when you got him warmed up, he would talk about it, sometimes too much, sometimes things you didn’t really want to know. I went back to my bedroll and wrote them down and tried to put them out of my head. Six months later, I was at the tail end of a sleepless 36-hour benzo binge, and the wind was blowing wrong, out of the wrong mouth at the wrong end of the world, bringing rain and the smell of death and napalm and the latrines, on the suffocating humid night when Spiers half-carried him out of the woods —

Dick’s shadow loomed over Nix’s shoulder and distorted the light on the text. “This is mildly embarrassing,” he said.

Nix felt like someone had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him out of a dead man’s float. “Hell,” he said, voice cracking, “for who?”

Dick shrugged. “Everybody involved.” He headed over to the stovetop percolator to spoon in fragrant coffee grounds. “David might've played it a little less fast and loose on the schoolboy crush front.”

“Schoolboy crush?”

Dick cocked an incredulous eyebrow. “Nix, your reading comprehension leaves something to be desired.”

“On — wait. On Liebgott!”

Dick turned back to the stove. “Maybe you need an eye test.”

Nix dropped the magazine on the table like it was radioactive. He supposed it might have been. His heart was acting up. What other kinds of things had Dick noticed? “My head was pretty damn far up my own ass.”

“I’d say so. Anyway, in my day we called that kind of prose florid.”

“In your day! Where the hell?”

“High school English.”

TK

--

The knock at the door in the night was a sharp shock, bright as lightning, that sent them both back to Khe Sanh and before. Nix ducked. Dick went behind the doorframe. They kept low into the kitchen, where Nix took his old officer’s pistol out from where he kept it hidden behind the fridge. Then they went to the door, keeping to the edges of the hallways.

On the porch was Liebgott. He could have made his own way in likely right onto the couch without either of them noticing, so it was something that he had knocked on the goddamn door. It was particularly something given that none of the boys from Easy should have known about the grow operation, or even about Dick’s farm, being as Dick’s address on file at the V.A. was a post office box in town and Nix’s was still in Jersey. These considerations were nil to somebody who had spent the better part of five years in the bush of Vietnam. He took a last draw from his cigarette and put it out against the rubber sole of his boot, then he put the butt in his pocket. As far as Nix knew, he hadn’t said a word since January 1970.  

“Joe,” said Dick diplomatically. He put his hand out and Liebgott took it. Then he took Nix’s. He had handsome dark eyes, but they were full of a wall. You could tell he saw you, but it was like nothing followed the necessary channels to the brain to spur emotional response. It had been like this even while he was still talking, and after a while you got used to it.

“You comin' in,” said Nix, knowing he probably would even if he wasn’t invited.

Inside, they all three sat at the kitchen table in silence nobody was about to break. Finally Dick got up and went to the drawer where they kept the rollies and their share of the product. He passed a sheaf of papers and a film canister full of bud to Liebgott across the table. Nix understood as well as Dick apparently did that there would be no getting anything over on this kid, who had eyes in the back and sides of his head. He’d probably had a nice tour of the property before coming inside. “You hungry, son,” Dick said.

Liebgott shook his head. He extracted one of the buds from the canister and inspected it. They did look mighty good if Nix said so himself. They looked artful in Liebgott’s hand. There were black scabs across his knuckles and a dark rime of filth under those fingernails which still existed. He seemed satisfied enough with what he saw to take a paper out of the sheaf and start shredding the flower into it.

“Captain Nixon calls it Easy Diesel,” said Dick, like he was trying to pretend it wasn’t the funniest thing in the world.

Liebgott looked up and a smile flashed across his face like the savage golden light of a flare falling over the far hills. His smile was sort of brutal, like the edge of a knife in a barfight, or like a seething animal. Luckily it went away as quickly as it had come. He rolled the joint with a quick grace and lit the business end with his old silver Zippo Nixon hadn’t seen since the war. There was a skull engraved on one side and on the other it read IF YOU ARE RECOVERING MY BODY, FUCK YOU.

“I don’t know how you found us, Joe,” Dick said thoughtfully. “You don’t have to… tell us. But we ain’t exactly keen to have just anybody here.” He paused and looked quickly to Nix, who tried to make it abundantly clear by means of eyebrows that he wasn’t sure they ought to go down this road, wherever it was leading. Dick ignored him. Liebgott was watching them, fully understanding their attempted clandestine exchange. “We ain’t exactly keen to have the DEA here,” Dick said at last.

The cherry at the end of the joint atomized with a crackling hiss. Liebgott looked between Dick and Nix with extreme seriousness sullied only by his exhaling a dignified white cloud out his nose. Then he nodded, once, curtly, demonstrating he understood his orders as they had been relayed.

Nix flashed Dick what he thought was a what have you done type look. But Dick looked totally unbothered. He should have gone into this business years ago for how violently unflappable he was. He said to Liebgott, “I’ll get some blankets and you can make up the couch.”

Liebgott shook his head to say no need. He got up, careful not to scrape the chair against the floor, shook each of their hands again, and in less than a minute’s time he was back out the door with nothing more than what he’d come in with except the joint.

Nix and Dick, on the porch, listening to the crickets, watched him disappear into the darkness.

“Are we hallucinating,” said Nix eventually.

“I sure as hell hope not,” Dick replied. “We’ve got to ship all that product or we’ll starve.”

--

In the morning Nix was in the field, inspecting the plants. Liebgott was standing there at his quarter for god knew how long before he cleared his throat and Nix jumped about six feet in the air. There was a smirk shifting across Liebgott’s face that he would have been better about hiding when Nix had been his commanding officer. He looked like he hadn't slept. Back over there he had looked like that a lot, but it had been different, because of all the uppers they were taking. He cocked his head back over toward the long driveway and then he was off across the dew-wet grass which had already soaked through the hems of his canvas pants and his destroyed shoes.

Nix followed, like a duckling behind a hen. Liebgott still walked as though there were eyes in all sides of his head quickly processing information as he moved. Nix doubted you ever lost that kind of skill, even if in the real world it made you look like a mental patient. He caught up so they could walk side by side through the dew-wet grass. “What did you think,” he asked Liebgott.

Liebgott passed Nix the universal sign of furrowed brow that meant please clarify.

Nix gestured with pinched fingers to his own mouth as though Liebgott were also deaf. “The grass.”

He shaped his hand into an a-ok sign.

“You get any sleep?”

He nodded an infinitesimal nod, like the answer was a secret just for Nix to know.

“Well if you think it could be better just tell me how.”

Nix had had a high school friend whose sister was deaf from scarlet fever and whom he had watched on occasion communicate with her by means of sign language. Early on, back over there, he had sent off to command for a book, but by the time it came he understood it wasn’t that Liebgott couldn’t speak, he just didn’t want to. It was something like how people’s hair supposedly turned white if they witnessed some evil thing, or how people became ascetics in the name of god. If you were really fucked up on drugs or fear or otherwise, or if the natural magical thinking from childhood hadn’t been fully beaten out of you, you might have seen it as the sacrifice he had given to the forest for letting him out without a scratch so many goddamn times. It had been a bit of a trial to explain this to Spiers, who was practical almost to a fault, sometimes.

Liebgott showed another a-ok sign. Then he did a thumbs up which Nix knew meant it was good.

All in all it was smart. If he was still talking, Nix might have asked him, what have you been up to? You been sleeping on the street? You been to the V.A.? What did they tell you? And the answer would’ve been nothing good. Instead they just walked in the cool grass together in the sunshine and the morning was beautiful, and the air was sweet. It was all lovely until Liebgott had to physically stop him, laughing, somehow silently but also hysterically, from stepping right onto the razor-thin tripwire stretched invisibly across the dark gravel.

In the kitchen, Dick was doing the numbers. He took his glasses off when Nix came in and put the coffee on. “He learned a thing or two from Charlie,” Nix said, leaning against the counters.

“Who, Joe?”

“Our driveway is thoroughly ratfucked.”

“Hmm,” said Dick. He put the glasses back on and turned back to the accounting book. He was going to do this whole thing as above board as was humanly possible. The vivid daylight came through the window and struck the lens of his unstylish Ray-Bans and threw a kind of prism of color upon the white paper and the chicken-scratch sums. Nix felt like maybe this was something you would paint if you had the necessary implements and artistic ability. “Maybe we should see if we can get any more help.”

--

He was mildly ashamed to say it, but the doc had always kind of creeped Nix out. He imagined a hypothetical conversation with Dick, who he knew loved the kid, almost like a son: Listen, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid, I owe him my life, yadda yadda. But either he’s dropped the brown acid one too many times or the voodoo exorcism went FUBAR.

The doc had arrived on the farm on the heels of Sunshine and Rainbows, aka Mr. Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed, aka one Edward “Babe” Heffron. Nix had written Babe in South Philly, being as he was a connoisseur of bud and once upon a time had been famed among their company for smoking anything anyone put in his hand, often to his own detriment. The operation was getting big enough that Nix needed another pair of hands, other than Liebgott, of course, who was still fortifying the long driveway whilst giving away his cover by playing Led Zeppelin IV as loudly as was possible. It was a tough calculation, because Babe was a genius of pot, but he couldn’t keep a damn secret, and lo and behold he had dragged along with him a dark shadow in the human form of Eugene Roe. They came up the driveway in a big old Ford pickup that rattled its rust off in the potholes. Liebgott had dismantled the traps specially for their arrival when they had called from Williamsport to say they were an hour out.

“I figured we could use a medical professional to lend some credibility to the operation,” said Babe thoughtfully, sparking a joint on the porch over sweating jam jars of iced tea.

Roe snorted or something but it wasn’t really a normal person’s self-effacing laugh. Winters clapped his back. Nixon knew Roe had dropped out of medical school after two years but there was no need to say anything. Everyone knew that. Now he was working construction and Babe claimed to be working as a mechanic in a garage, but this seemed suspect given the state of the car they had driven up in.

“Well we sure as hell are glad you boys are here,” said Dick magnanimously.

Babe exhaled an opaque cloud that rivaled Nix’s own father’s ability with a stogie. “Can we see the bush?”

They went out all together to the field and ducked between the rows of corn. Babe knelt in the soil. It was damp with dew and quiet in here. It would have been almost like over there except it smelled good. “What’s the cross,” Babe said, inspecting the plants.

“It’s an indica blend…”

“Well, I can tell that,” he said.

“So you’re an expert on the plant now too?”

“I’ve just smoked an awful lot of joints in my life, Captain Nixon.”

Roe snorted again. When they all looked to him he said, “You said in the letter there was some kind of altruistic reason for all this.”

“It’s medicine, Gene,” Babe said gently, but also like they had had this conversation thirty thousand times. Nix filed away for later the intimation that Roe had read the letter he’d sent Babe at home in South Philadelphia.

“I guess you don’t remember the psychic break you had at the Do Lung Bridge.”

Babe waved this remark off, even though Nix remembered it too. It threw a chill down his back, like a water balloon had hit him at the base of his neck. “That was laced,” Babe said.

“With what!”

“I don’t know! Something bad!” Babe turned to Dick and Nix. “Gene’s teetotal,” he said, like this was a big old point of contention.

So that counted out the bad acid. Maybe he was just like this. Maybe he had had those big sad bug eyes as a child or an infant or a fetus in the womb. “Good on you, Doc,” Nix said.

“I ain’t trying it,” Roe said, folding his arms over his narrow chest, “no matter what it does.”

The doc was a tough cookie. Babe had claimed, over there, about as high as the Byrds song, that the doc came from a long line of the kind of folks described in Dr. John’s “Gris-Gris Gumbo Ya Ya” and that, as such, he could heal wounds with his mind. When it didn’t work, as on the night when Jackson died, or the night when Hoobler died, or in the forest when Muck and Penkala died, or the night when Liebgott stopped speaking, he went to sit for a while on the edge of camp until Dick went over and made him eat something. Nix watched them in a state of confused envy, and then he went to write the letters to the families, so that Dick wouldn’t have to.

At dusk, after they ate a light dinner of corn on the cob and rice and beans, he took the boys up into the hayloft with an armful of blankets. “Sorry this is the best we got,” he said. He had said that about a hundred god damn times since they got here.

Roe looked like he wanted to say, you’ve got to stop apologizing for everything. Instead he said, “Where does Lieb sleep.”

Babe perked up. “Joe’s here?”

“You didn’t see him in the driveway?”

Nix sighed. “He’s gonna want to know what he did wrong that you saw him,” he said.

“Does he still — ”

Nix shook his head. “Not a peep.”

--

In a couple days time, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he was hot and tired and stoned, up to his elbows in earth in the field, showing Babe how to replant the hatchlings he’d grown from seed. “You guys room together or what?”

“Me and Gene?” Babe’s eyes were red in the corners from smoking and from the sun. “What about you and Dick?”

Dick, who had the radio on inside turned up as loud as it would go, so that they would hear it in the field, playing Crosby Stills and Nash doing “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” “What about me and Dick?” said Nix.

Babe was a smart kid. He realized this was going nowhere. With muddy hands he popped one of the seedlings out of its little pot and cradled it into the ground. “Well, I think he thinks he’s looking after me, but in actuality, I am looking after him.”

---

--

-

i do hope to someday finish this. webster in this AU is based on michael herr and that whole section is my impression of dispatches. the band that lieb and webster start to bond over is arthur lee’s band love. lieb’s lighter is based on a real one i saw on here sometime. this whole conceit is inspired by steve earle’s “copperhead road.” 

[askbittyerror]

Wedding RP part 2

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 Blue nudges their mate gently, whispering that they need to go meet their new son in law. @Askbittyerror

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 Magnus smiles and gives them a soft smooch. "Looking forward to it." "Kids, parents and other!" He yells down Huitzi. "Mission hug the shiz out of Bells is a go!" He pauses, then yells again. "Fresh!" "There are kids here, brah!" Fresh stage whispers from up in Huitzi's collar, his wings tickling the large bitty's neck.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 Blue giggles, smiling up at Fresh. They suspected he would want to be part of the hug pile too... Seeing Dragon approaching with the shorter dream, they pause for a moment, before offering, "Huitzi? Set us down and I can go big, and you can go uh... whatever, Dragon is doing?"

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 Huitzi gives Blue a nuzzle and sets them on the floor, far enough away to size up without issue. Each bitty gets a gentle pat as they wait to be handed off.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 The enchanter sizes up, immediately reaching for their family. They may have seperation anxiety...

Huitzi gets a small kiss on the cheeks as he helps them, and a whispered, "you've got this. we'll be here when you're ready for us again." [5:25 PM] Meanwhile, Bells is letting Greylu get to know more of their kids, something that admittedly probably should've been done before the wedding, but oh well-

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 Huitzi carefully transfers the bitties over, Magnus nuzzling on their shoulder, Paladin beside him. The goop dads take the other, Mercury clambers on top of their head, and Gold and Beryl find their way into a pocket while Fresh lingers in Huitzi's collar, looking around cautiously. "Uh, you got a pocket deep enough for me to hide, brah?" He whispers.(edited)

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "-several." Blue assures, almost wryly. They still have the habit of 'many pockets,' even though they can no longer tug nearly anything out of them. "Better yet, I have pockets on the inside of my coat, if that helps?"

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 "It does." Fresh nods. "Mind uh, steppin' closer and openin' your coat? I don' wanna be seen." He looks around at all the bitties and biggies with a small frown. "I ain't gonna infect no one, but these folk don' know that."

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "i'm guessing Bells does," they murmur, but offer no real protest, stepping closer, and opening their coat for him. "but yeah, i can see uh, it causing worry. either side, ones atop and below... like i said, old habits."

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 "Yeah, thanks brah." Fresh sequesters himself into a pocket, making sure all his radicalness is hidden safely away.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 a smile as the close they flap, lightly, then look towards where their kiddo has gone, then Greylu, nuzzles Magnus, and decides to go right for it. [5:57 PM] @salty darkness

salty darkness09/26/2020 Greylu is trying and failing to make small talk with Alun. He looks up as Blue and their bitty family approach, narrowing his eye and tilting his head. "...do I know you?"

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 The bitties give him smiles and small waves, excluding Fresh, who is still in hiding. "I'm your father-in-law!" Magnus shouts before the group turns their waves to Bells. "Hi kiddo!"

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 Greylu had reason to stare a little- it had been some time since Bells had taken on their own flesh and bone, but there was little mistaking the... uncanny identical resemblence of the person before him now, to that first form he'd known his now-spouse to wear.

Blue of course, having zero awareness of this. "-what my mate said." They agree, venturing a hesitant smile to the gray one... genuine, but hesitant. "I'm Blue. Uh, I guess... I'm your mother in law?"

"...which... still sounds really weird-"

Bells has decidedly noticed, and waves back. They're, a bit nervous, to put it lightly, watching their husband to see how he'll react.

salty darkness09/26/2020 Greylu stares for a few moments, looking up and down at the duo- particularly staring at Blue.

"..."

Then he smiles, a tendril curling around to pap the mother-in-law on the head. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm... I'm Greylu, Bells' husband. You look a lot like them."

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 Immediately they relax a little, despite being puzzled by the comparison... and maybe the pat? "I- thank you, it's nice to meet you too. I'm afraid all i really know about you is that Bells adores you, and says you're a good father... but, its a good start, right?" ...being full size in a strange place surrounded by so many strange people is a bit unsettling, but they are genuinely pleased to meet him.

salty darkness09/26/2020 "Well... I'm a good father, so I'm told.." Greylu turns, and a tendril curls around, picking Mea up from where she was trying to grab the cake with her goopy hands. "This is my oldest, Mea. She's your granddaughter-in-law, if I'm understanding the family tree right." Mea waves hello, clapping her stubs together. "Non!" "...as I said, you look like my spouse."

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 Blue starts to light up at the sight of the smol- then, looks utterly confused. "I do?" They look over to Bells, with their wings and pointed ears and gray markings, and- "o- oh. I didn't realize." To their credit, they don't question it further, simply offering their hand to the smol. "My name is Blue, Mea. I'm your... non's, mom." "...did I get that right?"

salty darkness09/26/2020 Mea stares up at Blue, her eyesocket wide. Then it turns into a star, and she grins, goopy hands moving to shake her non's mom's hand. "Non is yours? You're non's?" "...non has a very good non. Or da. Is non or da?" Greylu seems amused. "Is a mom, Mea. Mom." "...is mo. Non has a good mo. Goodest mo evers."

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 Blue. Is enchanted with this child. This may be the cutest child they've seen in years. Easily one of the most adorable children ever. ...Blue may need a moment to recover from the sheer amount of adorable, but suffice it to say, they would have so many stars in their eyes right now if they could. It's all they can do not to lift Magnus off their shoulder, look him in the eyelights, and say 'Magnus. We need one of these.' "...your non, has a very good daughter. and extremely adorable."

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 Magnus is very much in the same boat, starry-eyes at full force, hands clutched over his mouth, wiggling from the sheer effort it takes to not yell HOLY SHIT, BABY! while the other bitties, especially Mercury and Domino, are absolutely vibrating in excitement, the mentioned two having to be physically restrained from just (bitty) tackling the smol, and maybe Greylu and most definitely Bells, by their respective partners.

salty darkness09/26/2020 Mea beams, smiling and looking very smug for a one-eyed dryad child with no arms. "Best! Best and goodest mo and da and-" She pauses, glancing to the other bitties... and her eyelight turns into a star. "Sibs? Has new sibs? Or is cousins? Little sib-cousins??"

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "Uncles! And granddads, and-" Bells is no longer listening at this point, gaze focused sharply on the very protective and once again very large bitties. ...there is soft not-swearing, as they move back to rejoin their husband.

salty darkness09/26/2020 Mea nods very seriously. She looks fascinated by these newly-discovered uncles and granddads and mos and das that she didn't even know existed.

Then the bitties poof back into full size, and tendrils grab the smol, practically yanking her back into Greylu's arms. "...what the fuck just happened?"

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "...Dragon's other date mates found out about your stabby tendencies." This? Is all they offer. Blue looks confused. ...Raine is watching with narrowed eyes.

salty darkness09/26/2020 "..." Greylu swears several things that should probably not be heard by Mea. Ever. She looks very concerned.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 Raine is glaring at the tall ones, growling under her breath. Bells notices, and quickly tries scooping her up. ....success is... questionable.

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 The bitties look uncomfortable. They are more than ready to throw down for their new family, but against their friend and especially Flare? "Chill." Fresh pokes his head out, still mostly hidden behind Blue's jacket. "Dragon'll calm 'em down, so why don't you do lot do the same 'fore this weddin' gets turned into a funeral."

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "I'm trying..." Bells mumbles, as Raine summons her wings again, trying to wrestle her way free.(edited)

salty darkness09/26/2020 "..." Greylu nods, giving a small sigh of relief as the duo shrink back down to normal. "No, beloved, he has a point. This is our wedding. It should be a happy day, with no accidents or fights or-"

The goop pauses. And looks at Blue. More specifically, Blue's jacket- the spot where Fresh is semi-hidden.

And he growls.

"What. The fuck. Is that."

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 Fresh squeaks and immediately rehides. "I was never here, dawg!" Can be heard softly.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "Yes, well-" Raine slams her wings out hard, tumbling free. Bells mutters, rubbing their nose- Blue tucks the flap of the jacket closed, and steps back.(edited)

salty darkness09/26/2020 Mea lets out a few confused chirps, and she's plopped down unceremoniously- and carefully- on the ground. Greylu takes a step forward.

"You brought that thing? To my wedding? And let it be around my children?"

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "..." Bells snags him lightly, their voice tight. "Grab Raine. He's here by my invite." Raine? Is currently trying to run/give chase.(edited)

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 "I got a permanent host and no need to leave." Fresh hesitantly pokes his head back out. "Your kids are an' everyone else here are safe from me."(edited)

salty darkness09/26/2020 Greylu snarls, turning around to hiss at Bells, a strange sort of feral protectiveness in his eyelight- -and then he seems to realize who he's growling at, and his gaze seems to soften. "..." A tendril curls out from his back, snagging Raine and dragging her back to her da and non. "Sorry. I'm just... anxious, when it comes to potential threats to my children."

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "-good." they reach out, squeezing his hand gently. "he's my friend. and a protective one. He's given me comfort and sanctuary more than once." Blue is still deciding whether or not to retreat.

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 Welp, the bitties are all hiding now, barring Magnus and Paladin who stand on Blue's shoulder and snarl right back.(edited)

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 Raine? Is still trying to go after the tall ones, at the very least intending to cuss them out. Her aura flares in protective fury.

salty darkness09/26/2020 Mea whines, giving several chirps of protest as another tendril grabs her, too. She didn't even do anything yet!

Greylu hesitates, then glances back to Blue and their bitties, visibly uneasy. "Ahem. That's, not the greatest first impression, is it?" "...sorry. Very, very sorry."

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 A hesitation, and Blue swallows, and nods. ...still not as scary as Nightshade.

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 The bitties relax and slowly peek back out. Magnus and Paladin calm, giving Greylu looks for scaring their family and also potentially murdering Fresh.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 ...this. is. fine. Slow, deep breaths. ...Raine has stopped trying to squirm free, but still glares angrily after the two paladins.

salty darkness09/26/2020 Mea joins in in the glaring. Very vicious glaring. Look at this very threatening small child and her terrifying glares. Greylu offers a tentative hand to Blue, wincing a little. "...ahem. Uh, where were we?"

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "..." Blue offers a tentative smile again, a bit more hesitant this time, and reach to accept his hand. "Caught up in chaos and misunderstanding, I think."(edited)

salty darkness09/26/2020 "Indeed." A small smile. "It is nice to meet you, Blue. Despite everything. And I'm glad you could attend our wedding."

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "...I'm not entirely sure how I got here, admittedly... but, me too." Okay. Danger passed. All is good. Raine has stopped growling, and is just sulking now.

JusticeMom09/26/2020 Suddenly another player has jumped into the fray "why not pass off the little ones to me so you two can actually talk" A lazy smirk from a taller than Greylu because he is that kind of asshole Erebus says watching the small group

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 Bells is caught off guard, but Blue just has no idea how to take this, and stares. ...Raine points after Huitzi and Flare, pouting at her sire. "Wanna hurts the really big bad bastards for bein' means and scary!" She huffs, still very upset. "Tells them bad yucky fuckers to be nice, or- or-!" The lich winces, slightly, whispering a sorry to Fresh.

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 Fresh keeps himself from censoring, but only just, still hiding away in Blue's coat. "I can go yell at them?" Paladin hesitantly offers, holding up his hand for a moment before its dragged back down by his brother.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "uh-" "-no." It's hard to say which one started the answer, but it seems pretty unanimous. "...I am seriously so, so sorry Fresh-" they weren't even this embarrassed after the first time Raine's sires had heard her do that! "...why does she know those words?" This. May be Blue.

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 "It's fine, brah." Muffled freshy.

salty darkness09/26/2020 Greylu falls silent. All the other noises- the bitties offering to scream, Bells and Blue protesting, his children whining and offering to murder physical gods- they all fall away, as he stares at Erebus, and only Erebus.

A low, threatening rumble comes up from his throat, seemingly without even thinking about it. And then that rumble becomes a growl.

"Get out."

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 Somewhere across the room, Flare looks over.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 ...Raine meets that gaze, still glaring.

JusticeMom09/26/2020 "Calm down asshole and spend time with your inlaws give me the kids and actually go have fun for  once"

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 Flare looks amused and smiles, teeth painfully sharp. He is then slapped on the head repeatedly by two feet of Huitzi, which does nothing but make his eye twitch.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 ...the child bares her teeth back... not nearly as sharp, but she snarl angrily, her aura flaring again. Bells is looking back and forth, gauging the coming damage. "...um. maybe not a bad idea?"

JusticeMom09/26/2020 While Greylu growls Erebus gives Flare a flirty smirk and waves at him in a teasing way. Maybe just intent on reminding him of what they had been doing not so long ago

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 Huitzi scowls, sizes up, picks up Flare (who lets out a very undignified squeak) and sits with him in his lap, containing the now deeply upset and squirming Paladin within his wings.

salty darkness09/26/2020 "..." Greylu gives a small laugh. "I am not giving my children to you. Not on my wedding day. Today, they are mine." Angry goop. Probably-dangerous goop. Good-that-should-really-calm-down-before-he's-the-one-that-ruins-his-own-wedding goop.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "..." Bells decides this is a good time to steer their mom and bitty family away. Literally, physically steering them away. "Wait, what are-?!" Alarmed Blue. "...look. cake. Have cake. Don't get in the middle of this. Much dying."

JusticeMom09/26/2020 "... Raine is also my daughter" he points out easily "I swore not to start shit so come on I am going to heard the kids to the other room so they are not under foot and dont start lunging at anyone with a flaring aura" speaking of aura his is flat and very neutral right now

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 Raine manages to summon her wings for a third time... but not for nearly as long. She's getting exhausted, and that fact just seems to frustrate her more. "...wants fite!"

JusticeMom09/26/2020 He sighs holding his hands out for the small one "come on you and I can fight after everything is done. Promise"

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "..." sulking child. "..." "...promises?"

Askbittyerror09/26/2020 The angry wing bundle in Huitzi’s lap shakes and snarls, Flare making many angry hisses and growls, the whole thing probably about to degenerate into a hopefully limited-to-just-fist-fight where Huitzi is definitely going to get his ass kicked and potentially leave a few limbs shorter. The bitties look increasingly more and more uncomfortable and generally terrified.

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "..." Blue decides to let their kiddo steer them a bit away. They may be looking for exits, and also counting children.

JusticeMom09/26/2020 Erebus sighs "I will deal with that instead" he said and walked over to Huitzi grabbed both of the paladins and they were gone. Erebus taking them to his multiverse for a bit of a chill

salty darkness09/26/2020 Greylu tilts his head. "Oh? And then what? Are you going to take them away from me for good because you suddenly decided I'm not good enough for them? Maybe have a rematch and kill me in cold blood on my wedding day-?"

He pauses, blinking a little. Huh. And suddenly, they're gone.

"..." "That bitch."

with-bells-upon09/26/2020 "..." Bells is done. "...okay, check that, I'm getting cake." They mutter, even as Raine yawns, now quickly giving up the fight, with the pair of tols being gone.

salty darkness09/26/2020 Greylu bends down, scooping his smol into his arms. He nuzzles her cheek, whispering about how she's very brave and he's very proud of her and other gentle compliments and praises. Mea clambers up beside her, snuggling the partner. September 27, 2020

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Any lingering growls have become purrs, snuggling with her da and partner, a sleepy smile on her face. She? Had scared them off... and later? Her papa would teach her how to fight... ...happy smol... Bells gives their husband a strained smile, reaching out to brush his cheek. "If you leave me a widower on my wedding day? No honeymoon for you, beloved." "...or me. So, please." A sigh, drawing back away. "Cmon. Cake."(edited)

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 “Cake is good! I like cake!” Mercury says brightly, clambering out from Blue’s jacket and giving Bells and fam a hopeful smile. “…can I come out?” Fresh asks.

salty darkness09/27/2020 Mea chirps, tilting her head. "...cake?" Greylu huffs. "...point taken. We should go have cake, shouldn't we?" "...you can come out if you play nice."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 “I wasn’t planning to do anything but, dawg.” Fresh pokes his head out, looks from Greylu to Bells, then holds out his arms with a soft whine.

#wedding rp #part two

[johnmarstoned]

Could I request Micah and Elizabeth just spending time together having some SFW fun (that could possibly lead to NSFW fun) together?

Thanks for the request! This is very much Micah’s idea of fun, fair warning. This got way long because I’ve also posted it on AO3.

NSFW content ahead! 🔥 💕 

Micah and I have gotten into the habit, when we can get away with it, of setting up our own little camps at some remote location and meeting there and staying for a night or two, when we can think of a good enough excuse to be gone for so long. It can’t be too often, because we know people will start to notice if we are both gone, together, at the same time.

For Micah, it’s easy, he can say he’s following a lead, robbing some folks, whatever he wants - there are only so many times I can pretend I’m tracking down some speedy mare before they start to wonder why I never come back with more than a flush on my face and bruises on my knees.

On this particular day, we don’t bother with a camp, we take a chance on a town and hope no one else has decided to make the long ride from Clemens Point to Valentine for some reason. I doubt they will, the boys seem to be too busy with that business in Rhodes to bother with that kind of a ride. As pretty as our current camp is, I do miss it the fresh air, as I am not a lover of the heat. 

We arranged to meet in Smithfield's, and I find him there, leaning on the bar and working on a whiskey. It’s busy, it being the evening, the tables full of folks drinking and eating, the piano playing jauntily in the background.

“Not drunk already are you?” I ask, leaning beside him. He looks down at me with a little look of surprise.

“Not many people can sneak up on me, ya know?” He says, and rests an arm gently round my waist. “Coulda slit my throat and I would never have known.”

“More likely to have picked your pocket.” I say, enjoying his closeness and the leather smell of his jacket.

“Nice girl like you? Not some kinda outlaw are ya?” He smiles down at me, clearly feeling playful.

“No, but I know a couple.” I catch the busy bartender’s eye and mouth the word ‘bourbon,’ to which he nods.

“Bad men?” Micah squeezes my hip a bit. “Scary, mean types?”

I fight the urge to laugh and reach up to touch his moustache.

“They like to think so, but I think they’re all soft as teddy bears.”

“Hmm.” He looks down my body, the opening of my blouse, holding me a bit too close for polite company as he likes to do when he can get away from it. “Can you hurry up and get this woman a drink?”

At Micah’s order, I get my drink quick enough, and we find a table in a quiet corner of the saloon, getting pleasantly tipsy and laughing so much you could almost mistake us for a real couple.

“Y’see, I get so used to seein’ you with them horses I forget that you ain’t as innocent as you look.” He says, after I tell him a story about slipping the watch out of the pocket of a man I was speaking to face to face.  

“Well, it’s been a while since I got myself in trouble, I could forget as well.” I sip my drink. “Not that I think I’m so innocent looking.”

“Of course you are.” Micah says, leaning forward on his elbows. “With that pretty blonde hair and those big ol’ eyes.” He reaches across, completely unabashed, and puts a hand on my jaw. “Only giveaway that you’re a bad girl is these lips, they were just made for sin.”

“Micah…” I feel my cheeks flush and I shake my head. The way he looks at me leaves no question what he’s thinking about sometimes, what he wishes he were doing to me. It makes me tingle and think just as filthy thoughts as I’m sure he does.

His hand leaves my face and he looks amused that he’s managed to make me blush.

“Am I going to be regaled with any tales from your rough and tumble teenage years any time soon?” I ask, because although I’ve heard him mention his father and brother in passing, he’s never really gone in to more detail than what I’ve heard him telling the men round the campfire. His father does not sound like a pleasant man. 

A look crosses his face, rather serious, before he breathes out a small laugh and shakes his head.

“Wouldn’t wanna ruin the mood, be honest with ya.” He says. “Not nearly as fun as your stories.”

I nod in understanding, choose not to push it, and finish off my drink. I suspect that there’s good reason Micah doesn’t discuss his past with me directly - it makes me wonder just exactly how nasty it was. 

“You want me to get us another drink so I can tell you about when I stowed away on a train for a week?”

“I very much do, you little reprobate.” He says, and hands me a dollar bill for the drinks.

Micah watches every move I make, and I like it, he’s the only person whose scrutiny makes me feel good rather than on edge. I go to the bar and make our orders; I don’t think we’ll be here much longer, even after all the time Micah and I have been doing this, it still doesn’t take much to make us need to have each other.

I make the order at the bar, and wait for our liquors to be poured.

“Fine lady like you shouldn’t be paying for your own drinks.” A man leans on the bar beside me, wearing nice clothes and a bowler hat. “Let me get that for you.”

“Actually, I-”

“No, no, I won’t hear anything about it, you put that money away, pretty girl.” He’s standing a little bit too close to me. A young man, fairly handsome, I suppose, but not one I have any interest in, especially when I know Micah will be watching this whole interaction very closely. 

“Sir, I’m quite happy to pay for my own drinks, if I could just-” I try to get the bartender’s attention, arm outstretched, but he blocks me off with his body and looks me up and down. He seems a little bit drunk, and doesn’t seem to notice my increasingly annoyed expression. Or care about it. 

“Look, just let me buy you a drink, okay? Ain’t seen anyone who looks like you come in here before.” He puts a hand on my waist, and I feel myself freeze, torn between batting it away and most certainly catching Micah’s angry attention, and telling him straight where to stick it.

When I open my mouth to speak, he shushes me, and his hand slips from my waist to my ass and squeezes lasciviously. My blood runs cold with shock at the horrible intrusion, and I feel the rage beat in my chest. 

“How fucking dare-” I begin, but I don’t get to finish, because no sooner is Micah’s hand on the man’s shoulder than he his clocked very hard across the face and falls heavily to the ground. I jump back out of his way, shocked, and Micah pulls the man up by the shirt scruff and punches him again with a meaty thunk.

“Hey! Take it easy!” Someone yells, as everyone backs up out of the way of the fight. If ‘fight’ is what it can even be called, Micah isn’t letting the groper up while he lands punch after punch on his face, his nose and lips bloody.

“Touchin’ someone else’s woman you little fuckin’ shit?” Micah sounds wild, enraged, probably more than I’ve ever heard him. “Fuckin’ kill you right here.”

I’ve never seen him fist fight before, and he’s just as vicious as I’ve been told. 

My shock wears off enough or me to realise that people are definitely running to get the sheriff, and Micah beating this guy to death in the middle of the saloon cannot end well. I catch his arm on its swing back, and do my best to hold it firm.

“Micah.” I say, hopefully loud enough for him to hear my voice over his rage. “He gets the message.”

For a beat, he tries to pull his arm out of my grip, but then he looks at me; it seems to take him a minute to recognise me, but he loosens his hold on the man’s shirt and lets me step between them and put my hands firmly on his chest. “We have to go.” I say, making him keep his eyes locked with mine to ground him to reality.

“He touched you.” He says, voice harsh.

“And now he’s unconscious and we have to go before the Sheriff comes.”

“Get that madman outta here!” The bartender yells, and I don’t give Micah a chance to respond, I take his raw hand and pull him towards the door with all my strength, hope to god he can just leave it at this.

I’m stopped though, by one of the very lawmen we are trying to avoid, who has just walked through the swinging doors.

“What the hell is going on in here?” He yells to the room, adjusting his white hat.

“That guy beat the holy hell out of this one!” The bartender points between them, and I look back at the scene. It doesn’t look good, splashes of nose blood on Micah’s shirt, bruises on his knuckles and a man lying on the ground with his face beaten to a pulp.

“Woah, woah, woah, I’m sure we can figure this out.” Micah holds up his hands, voice changing from raw rage to light amusement.

“We can talk about it in at the jail, come on now.” The lawman grabs Micah’s arm firmly, and starts to tug him away. Panic sets in my stomach - I absolutely cannot explain to Dutch how Micah managed to get locked up in Valentine when we were supposed to be all the way down south, and why I had been with him in the first place. Why I had lied to Dutch about where I was going to be. 

“Sir, you don’t have to take him in.” He drags Micah out of the saloon into the night and I follow. I really hope Micah doesn’t reach for his gun, a dead lawman would not help anything. “Please, he’s my husband, things just got out of hand.”

“Can’t be causing trouble like that, ma’am, man could have died. Might still die.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” I say, thoughts racing with what I can actually do to stop Micah being locked up or doing something reckless, as I know he can tend to do in these situations.

The plan isn’t the best, but it’s the only one I can think of at short notice. I size up the lawman; he’s not very tall, doesn’t look particularly muscular. I pick up my pace so I’m facing them and he stops walking.

“Get out of my way please, ma’am, your husband can wait in the cells until we find out if that poor guy’s gonna wake up.”

“I just wanted to apologise, in advance.” I say. A confused look passes his face before a land a knee to his balls that sends him doubling over, enough so I can punch him with all my strength and knock him into the wet mud.

It has been a while since I’ve punched someone, so the plain runs from my knuckles to my wrist immediately, but I am glad to know I haven’t completely lost it. 

“Come on.” I say to Micah, who is looking down at the lawman with a stunned expression. 

We don’t have time, I take off running to the closest horse, Baylock. “Micah, come on!” 

His dark laugh follows me as we make a run for the horse, shouts ringing out as people realise what I’ve done. He gets on first and pulls me up after him; adrenaline runs through my body, pulsing in my neck. I put my arms round his waist and hold on for dear life as he sets off fast pace.

The shouts ring out behind us, with my fingers in my mouth, I whistle my horse to follow. Micah’s still laughing, whooping even, but I can hear the sound of hooves on the dirt behind us that aren’t just my own horse.

Heart hammering in my chest, I look back over my shoulder to see the lawmen following us on horses, 

“Fuck, Micah, we’re being followed!” I shout over the sound of the whipping wind and the gallops. My hair obstructs my face when I look back again, but I can see two men on horseback on our tail as Micah rides out of the town.

“I know, don’t you worry sweetheart.” He sounds entirely unfazed, kicking up speed and whipping round a corner so fast I feel like I’m going to fall off. My fingers dig into his leather coat and I press my forehead into his back, barely daring to look back.

We leave the road and ride into the trees, and I have to close my eyes because I have no idea how he’s a good enough horseman to avoid us smacking into a single one. 

The sound of those following us recede, until all I can here is the steady gallop of my own horse behind us. 

He rides for a bit longer, until we have definitely lost them, and stops up on a grassy hill somewhere near the river. The sun has set now, and the landscape is cast in the eerie white glow from the moon. 

“Fuck!” Micah yells when we finally stop, my hair a blown out mess and absolutely out of breath. “Fuck, that was good!”

Micah is hyped up in a way I haven’t seen him be before. We don’t ever go on jobs together, but this is what everyone tells me he’s like. Crazy, out of control. I’m still in a daze, so he lifts me down from Baylock and grabs my arms.

“Now that was fun.” He says, and laughs that chesty laugh again. “You were…” He shakes his head like he can’t find the words. “You were a fuckin’ dream.”

Micah puts his hand on the back of my head and kisses me hard, looping the other arm around my waist.

“I am hard as a rock, watchin’ you do that.” He puts his hands on my ass and picks me up, clearly fuelled by adrenaline himself given how easily he does it. I can feel that he wasn’t lying, pressing against me while my legs are wrapped round his waist.

“Don’t you feel good? Just goddamn alive?” His voice is a growl.

He’s right, I do. My pulse is hammering and my knuckles hurt, but when I get my breath back, I do feel good, I feel great. Energised, excited, just the right amount of scared.

“Who knew you could throw such a punch?” He kisses me deep and I tighten my legs around him to press myself against his erection. “I - shit I gotta have you right now.”

Micah falls to his knees, and drops me clumsily on my back, making me laugh. He’s laughing too, breathlessly, as he pulls my skirt up to my waist and puts his hands on my thighs.

“We gotta do this more often.” He says, voice a rough grumble. “Like seein’ you as a bad girl.”

“I can tell.” I say, pulsing between my legs and nipples pressing against my blouse. It’s almost too much, I’ve barely gotten my breath back from the escape and he’s already looking at me like I’m his next meal. 

Micah pulls off my bloomers over my boots, wasting no time. I am fully aware that we are absolutely in the open, in the middle of a field in the moonlight where anyone could ride by, or spot us through their binoculars.

It feels animalistic, to have done violence and now to be doing this, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been so turned on.

So what if someone did see us? Rutting like hounds in the wild? I know, really, I should be horrified by the idea, but I’m not, I quite like it. 

Micah doesn’t immediately unfasten his trousers like I think he will, instead he bunches my skirt up around my waist, takes off his gun belt and lies on his stomach to put his face between my legs and my knees on his shoulders.

“Shit!” I call out into the open, and my hands scramble to grab handfuls of grass. He buries his tongue inside me, making an obscene noise, before sucking on my clit hard and making me moan desperately. My head falls back and my back arches so I press against his mouth. 

“That’s it…” He licks me a few more times before moving back up my body and working on his belt buckle. I shudder, desperately needing to have him inside me. I look at him, his eyes glazed and his chest rising and falling in deep breaths.  He looks so amazed by me, it makes me surge with pride.

With his belt and trousers open, he lays back over me and kisses me deeply. His hat is till on, ridiculously.

He teases the tip of his cock against me just for a moment before pushing all the way inside, and I feel winded, a shocked moan leaving my mouth at feeling of being so instantly filled.

“Fuck, fuck, you feel so good every damn time.” He says through his teeth. Micah buries his face in my neck and thrusts in and out of me; I knock his hat off with one hand and knot my hand in the back of his hair.

“So do you.” I moan, completely surrendering to the pleasure of the way he fucks me, harder and faster than usual. I cannot get enough, it feels so good. His hair is dry in my hand, I pull it a bit and listen to him grunt and groan in my ear.

Somewhere in my dizzy pleasure, I look over his shoulder at the starry sky, and wonder if this is actually the best I’ve ever felt. Micah makes me feel so damn... Special. He looks at me like he can’t believe I’m real and he touches me like it too. 

I might love Micah.

And this is how I realise I might love him. After running from the law, while he fucks me on the dirt with our horses waiting at the nearby tree-line. Micah puts a hand on my knee and spreads my legs wider so he can get even deeper.

“Don’t stop.” I whine.

“Ain’t gonna.” Micah grunts. “Wish I could fuck you every damn second of the day.”

“Mmm.” I moan, and I can already feel myself getting close; his voice is running through me, rough and lusty.

The heel of my boot digs into the back of his leg; his jacket arms must be covered in grass stains with the way he’s holding himself up over me.

“Micah, Micah.” I release a handful of grass to lift his head from my shoulder to make him look at me. I’m close to the edge, and I want to feel his tongue on mine and his moustache against my lip. He groans into my mouth, slurs my name, and it pushes me over, the climax hitting me hard, making me shudder. I clench around him, it almost makes the fullness too intense; all I can do is hold onto him as the pleasure wracks through me, while I pulse around him.

“Shit,” he curses. His forehead presses against mine and a hand reaches up to cup my jaw. Micah’s thrusts are stuttered, clumsy, so I know he’s close. “Fuck, I fucking love you.”

His eyes screw shut when he comes inside me - mine fly open, distracted from the feeling of his grip and his come filling me up by what he just said. He grunts out his release, cock hitting deep, and doesn’t loosen his tight hold on me until it’s over.

My breath is shaking and my heart hammers in my chest. I’m not sure if he even knows what he said. When he opens his eyes, panting, I fix my face into one that isn’t so shocked and give him a peck on the lips, my cheeks glowing.

“You tired out yet?” He asks, pulling out with an almost pained grown and fastening up his trousers. I sit up on my elbows and try to figure out exactly how I feel. Certainly not tired out - if anything, I feel more energised then I had before.

“Not yet.” I say, with a smile and a shake of my head. ‘Do you know you just told me know love me?’ I want to ask, but I don’t. A man is liable to say a lot of things when he’s about to come, even if that had never come out of his mouth before.

“Good, me neither.” He chuckles a bit and finds his hat and gun belt on the ground while I pull up my bloomers and fix my skirt. “Saw a camp of O’Driscoll’s on my way here, not far off.”

“Oh yeah? And what about it?” I raise my eyebrow, he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet.

“Thought we could rob ‘em… Or just kill ‘em. Anything you want.” He seems to find it hard to stand still, not at all exhausted and wrung out like he usually is after we fuck.

“Why, you wanting me to go on a little tear with you?”

“Ain’t we already started one?” He grins, taking my hip in hand. “Night’s still young, sweetheart.”  

I consider him for a moment. It has been a long time since I’ve done this kind of thing, had this kind of wild night. Said wildness dances in his eyes and the smirk on the corner of his mouth, like he’s daring me. This is Micah’s favourite kind of entertainment, I can tell, and it draws me in, my soul be damned.

“You got a gun?” He asks, and I shake my head. Micah makes a small grumble of disappointment.

“Could borrow one of your revolvers…” I suggest, looking down at the two guns holstered in his belt. Micah looks surprised for a moment, and he considers me for a long time, that penetrative stare that I can hardly handle.

He takes one of the revolvers and twirls it round his finger, second nature, before nodding at me to hold out my hand. I do, and he places it in my palm; his fingers linger on my skin.

It’s heavier than it looks, as guns always seem to be, well-worn with a painted red skull on the grip and the words ‘Vengeance is hereby mine’ messily carved into the barrel. I run my fingers down the metal, reverently, almost, because I know what these guns mean to him and I can’t believe he’s actually letting me hold it like this.

“Pretty.” I say, sending him a small smile. Micah is watching me very closely, a look on his face I can’t quite place.

“You-“ He clears his throat, which sounds a bit dry. “You look good holdin’ it.”

I breathe out a small laugh, even though he sounds very sincere, and to break the tension in the air, I pose with it, holding it out with my arm outstretched and pointing it at the tree-line with one eye shut.

“Do I look like Black Belle?” I ask, thinking about that cigarette card I’d seen a while back.

Micah looks at me for another long moment again, before shaking his head.

“No, sweetheart, you look like a whole other level of trouble.” His voice is a low rumble, and even in the dark, I can see the intensity with which he looks at me. 

I lick my lips before bringing the revolver to my lips and gently kissing the tip of the barrel. In the feet between us I hear the shaky, raspy breath he breathes. “You love trouble.” I say. 

After another beat, he steps closer to me, but doesn’t touch me again yet.

“I absolutely fuckin’ do.” 

#micah bell #micah x elizabeth #micah fic #rdr2 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #request #Anonymous

[saxonspud]

The Outlaw and the Treasure Hunter - Chapter 6 - Business as Usual

Arthur rode into the camp, at horseshoe overlook. It had been a while, since he had been back. He'd intended to return, the day he'd first encountered Izzy, in the store. But his new endeavour, had kept him away. He felt rather pleased with himself. He had a decent amount to put in the box. It would still leave him with a reasonable amount, to pocket for himself.

He hitched his horse, and sauntered into the camp. He'd pick up a change of clothes whilst he was here, as well. He didn't intend staying to long. He still had to see to Elizabeth Pickett, and return to Valentine, to keep an eye on his little treasure hunter.

First things first. He headed over to Dutch's tent, and the camp box. He deposited Eight hundred dollars in the box, and entered it, into the ledger. After he had done that, he headed back to his tent, to sort out a change of clothes.

Dutch Van Der Linde, saw Arthur return. He'd been away from camp, longer than usual. He'd also seen him putting something in the box, and filling in the ledger. Dutch, opened the ledger, and scanned the last entry. He frowned. That was a lot for one person to have made, in such a short space of time. Not that he wasn't pleased, that the money was coming in. But he'd heard a few rumours, around the local town. About a stranger, killing folk, for only a few dollars. It concerned him, that it might be one of his people. They didn't make a habit, of randomly killing people, that were just trying to get by. Greedy people, who maybe had more than they needed, yes. But normal folks, that kind of went against the grain. What worried him more, was that the rumoured stranger, may well have been Arthur. Who was more like a son to him. Well to him, and Hosea.

Dutch saw Arthur, coming out of his tent.

"Arthur, son!" he called out, and beckoned him over.

Arthur grunted, when he heard his name being called. This was only supposed to be a flying visit. There were still places, he needed to be. He wandered across to Dutch's tent, huffing as he went.

"Arthur, where have you been," Dutch chided.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "bringing in money," he huffed, "It's what you wanted, ain't it?"

Dutch frowned, "sure, son. Its just, well that's a helluva lot of money, in one trip!"

Arthur sighed, "since when did you complain about the amount, I bring in. Thought you'd be pleased."

Dutch looked at Arthur, concern in his face, "It ain't that son, its just, well, I hope you ain't doing anything immoral, to come by such large amounts."

Arthur laughed, "we're outlaws Dutch, ain't that what we do. You can hardly rob people nicely." he hesitated, "anyway, wasn't killing that woman on the ferry, a touch immoral?"

Dutch glared at Arthur, "You know that was an accident. It ain't like we make a habit of killing innocent folk. I'm just worried about you son," he sighed, before continuing, "you've changed since Blackwater, got hard. I just wanna make sure, your not drifting in the wrong direction."

Arthur scratched his head, "Don't worry Dutch, I ain't doing nothin' bad. Hell I ain't even killed anyone in the last couple a days," he scoffed, as he turned and headed back to his horse.

Dutch watched Arthur walk away. He shook his head, something wasn't right.

He looked over to the campfire, and saw John. Catching his eye, he beckoned him over.

"Dutch!" John grunted, as he approached the gang leader.

Dutch lowered his voice, "listen son, I need you to do me a favour?"

John nodded, "Sure, Dutch. What d'ya need?"

"I want you to follow Arthur, just see what he's up to?" He whispered.

"What!" John exclaimed. "Why?"

Dutch sighed, "Please, son. Just humour me, something just don't feel right, I just wanna know what it is." He hesitated, "oh and John, don't let him know that you're following him."

John nodded, and headed to the horses, quickly mounting, as he saw Arthur heading out of camp.

Arthur headed to the cabin, where he had left Elizabeth Pickett. Completely unaware, that he was being followed.

He needed to sort her out, with food and water, before he went on another treasure hunting foray, with Izzy. It was going, so much better than he expected, apart from nearly loosing her over the side of a crevasse.

He also wondered what her mother was up to. The sort of stuff, that they had retrieved. The Picketts, should have been living like kings. It also seemed a little odd, that Mrs Pickett, would go all the way, to St. Denis, to sell the stuff. Especially when Seamus, was so close. Even if he had cheated her a little, she would still be getting a decent amount for what she was selling. It seemed a little suspicious. He was sure he could get the truth out of Elizabeth Pickett, with a little 'persuasion'.

Arthur arrived at the cabin and hitched his horse outside. When he went through the door.

Elizabeth, was at first startled. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought you were going to leave me here, to die," she cried.

Arthur smirked, "its always an option, Mrs Pickett. You and I need to have a little chat, if I don't get the answers I want, then it might just happen!"

John saw the cabin, at the top of the hill, and Arthur's horse, hitched outside. He hitched his horse, in a clump of trees, at the bottom, and continued to the cabin, on foot.

Glancing through the window, he was shocked to see, a woman shackled to the bed, and the derisory look on Arthur's face.

He crouched, under the window, hoping to hear, any snippets of conversation.

Arthur glared at Elizabeth Pickett. "So tell me, where is the rest of the money, from Izzy's treasure hunting, 'cos it sure as hell ain't at your little homestead, in Valentine?"

Some of the colour, faded from Elizabeth Pickett's face, "I...I don't know what your talking about," she stuttered.

Arthur pulled his knife, and took a step towards her, pointing the blade at her throat, "I know what she finds, at these little treasure sites, and I also know what they're worth. So you better start talking! Unless you want you, or your pretty little daughter, to be cut up some!"

Elizabeth whimpered, "Please, don't hurt Izzy. I've been keeping some money in St. Denis."

Arthur withdrew the knife. "I'm guessing you're daughter ain't aware of that?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "once the treasure sites are spent, there'll be no more income."

Arthur sneered, "so once you've finished putting your daughter in danger, you'll head off, and leave her behind."

Elizabeth, shook her head, "its not like that, by the time it runs out, she'll be wed. I still need to live, with no husband, or other source of income."

Arthur stood, looking at Elizabeth Pickett, in disbelief, "and they say I'm the evil bastard, and the crook," he hesitated, then continued, "have you any idea, how dangerous it is, what your daughter does? She would have died today, if I hadn't been there."

Elizabeth stared blankly "It is, what it is."

Arthur laughed, "you couldn't care less about her. Was it your idea, for her to become a treasure hunter?"

Elizabeth sneered, there didn't seem to be any point in trying to hide the truth any more, "Yes, it was. Her father was against it, well the hunting. He was happy for her to learn about the maps. She would sit with him, in his study, when she was about fifteen, learning all about maps. It got to a point, when she could read the maps, better than him," she scoffed. "He was weak, I knew it wouldn't be long before he died, one way or another. So on her eighteenth birthday, I persuaded him, to take her hunting. After that, he started to teach her. She started to become better at it, than him."

Arthur picked up the empty jug and refilled it with water, and chucked some salted beef and biscuits on the bed.

"When I come back Mrs Pickett, we'll be taking a trip, to St. Denis, to collect your stash. Your lucky you got a stash, 'cause if you didn't, I'd leave you here to rot." He snarled.

By this time, John had heard enough. He crept away from the cabin, and back to where his horse was tethered.

A few moments later, he saw Arthur, leave the cabin, and mount his horse.

He guessed he was heading to Valentine, to go back to this woman's daughter. He decided to follow Arthur, to Valentine, to see where he had the daughter, then report back to Dutch.

Arthur, arrived in Valentine, just as the sun was beginning to set. Giving everything an orange glow.

He hitched his horse, next to Izzy's. Unlocked the front door, and closed it behind him.

John, who had still been following, at a distance, looked at the house. He doubted he would be able to glean much more information. At least he knew where the house was now, and likely the woman's daughter, was inside somewhere. Deep down, he felt like barging in, and asking Arthur what the hell he thought he was doing, but he decided, to do as Dutch had asked him. So he headed back to camp, to provide Dutch with the information, he had obtained.

Arthur climbed the stairs, and headed to Izzy's room.

As he went in, he was pleased to find, Izzy, still tied up. He was, however, surprised to see that she had been crying. Tears still glistening on her cheeks.

Arthur took out his knife, and cut the cords, that bound her ankles. He helped her to sit. He gently touched her face, and wiped the tears away with his thumb. "What's the matter princess, did you miss me?" he smirked.

Izzy, not wanting to look him in the eye, looked down, "I...I thought, you weren't coming back." she stuttered.

Arthur reached behind her, and cut the cords, on her wrists. They'd already started to cut in, and had left red friction burns, on her wrist.

He gently held her wrists, on in each hand. Rubbing the sore spots, gently, with his thumb.

After a while, he put his hand under her chin, and gently tilted it up, so that she was looking at him, "I told you, princess, I'm gonna look after you, and I will." he whispered.

Izzy blinked, not quite sure what to make of the man. One minute, he was rough and aggressive, the next soft and sensitive.

Arthur let go of Izzy, and stood up. "C'mon" he said gruffly, "get downstairs." He delved into his satchel, and handed her the map, that they had retrieved from the falls. "I want you to check that out, or look at the others you have. We'll head out again tomorrow."

Izzy slipped off the bed, and headed downstairs, closely followed by Arthur. She was quite surprised, when he didn't follow her, into her fathers study.

The maps were still scattered across the desk, where she had put them, the night that Arthur broken in. She quickly put them back into the drawer, with the exception of the map she had been working on, and the new one.

She was pretty certain, that the map she had been working on, was referring to Cotorra Springs. She put it to one side, and took a look at the new map. She frowned, then looked at the large map of the five states, concentrating on an area in the Grizzlies.

She was so engrossed in the maps, she didn't notice Arthur walk into the study.

Arthur stood there, watching Izzy, pour over the maps, first looking at the treasure map, then taking a magnifying glass, and looking at the map, that was spread out on the desk.

He put his hand on Izzy's shoulder. Izzy gasped, in surprise.

Arthur squeezed her shoulder, "well? Where are we heading?"

Izzy wanted to shrug, his hand of her shoulder, but she new better, than to do that. She handed him the two treasure maps. Which made him release the grip, so that he could take them.

"One of them points towards Cotorra Springs, the other O'Creagh's run." She stated.

Arthur nodded, and handed the maps, back to Izzy. "We'll head to Cotorra Springs, tomorrow, now you better have something to eat, C'mon."

Izzy stood up and walked through to the main room. She was surprise to see, there was hot food, already prepared on the table.

She looked at the food, then looked at Arthur.

Arthur pointed at the food, "Eat!" he grunted.

Izzy sat down, and started to eat, suddenly realising how hungry she was. She'd had nothing since this morning.

Arthur sat down opposite, and ate the food that he had prepared. Glancing over at Izzy every so often.

After Izzy had finished, she took a deep breath, "Mister Morgan, may I go to bed now?" she asked, knowing the last time, she'd try to go somewhere, without asking, he'd become very Irate.

Arthur stood up, and walked around the table, until he was standing behind her.

He traced the tips of his fingers, from her neck, down her arms, feeling the skin through the fabric of her shirt. Once his fingers reached her hands, he held them tightly, so that his arms, were pressing against hers. He leaned his head, into the side of hers. She felt his stubble, graze her cheek. Izzy drew in a stuttered gasp, as her heart, thudded in her chest.

Arthur sniffed, deep. Taking in her scent, like a wolf. He gently kissed her neck, "goodnight, Princess," he purred, "and remember the rules, no locked doors!"

He released his grip, and slowly stepped away from the table, smirking.

She nodded, as she felt a shiver down her spine.

Izzy quickly left the table, and hurried up the stairs. Once she was in her room, she quickly closed the door. She decided tonight, she would sleep in her clothes.

#rdr2 fanfic #original female character #low honor arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #wattpad #a03