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gretavanlace · 2 years

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Sweet Little Toy

Jake Kiszka x Daniel Wagner x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamic, language, dirty talk, use of toys, insinuation of toys, bdsm, oral sex, threesome, breath play, pet names (tw for daddy), hell idk what else...all the warnings that ever were I suppose

*to my darling @jake-kiszkas-smirk, this one’s for you and your stealthy ask. I love you, doll face

“Can’t we just go?” you complain, sounding pettish and impatient. “They know what they’re doing.”

“Shh…” Jake, strokes a hand down your forearm and folds his fingers between yours.

You eye the back of Danny’s head. His concentration is evident even though all you can see is his mass of dark, wild, curls. Your gaze shifts to the studio window, appraising the two men bustling about Danny’s kit through the glass. “What are they doing anyway?”

“They’re changing his batter heads.” Jake explains, like you should know what that means. “He likes to watch, likes to make sure it's done right.”

His thumb is sweeping along the back of your hand as you smile. “Oh, I know he likes to watch.”

“Behave, baby.” Jake reprimands, but there is little force behind it, so on you go.

“I’m bored, we’ve been here for hours. I want to go home and—”

Danny’s voice cuts you off, though he doesn’t bother turning around. “Hush, little one…you will do as you’re told. I heard Jake tell you something, what was that?”

“He told me to shh.” you answer softly, staring down at your lap as Jake gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“So why are you still whining? We’ll leave when they’re through with my kit and not a minute sooner. Quiet down.”

You nod, but can’t help the sigh of irritation that puffs past your lips. Jake shakes his head in disappointment, as if to say, will you never learn?

Finally, Danny turns slowly to face you, hands braced on the counter behind him. “What was that? Are you smart-mouthing me?”

You lift your chin defiantly, “I didn’t say a word.”

“That was me,” Jake offers, ever your soft-hearted white knight. “Something in my throat.”

Danny ignores his counterpart’s obvious attempt at rescuing you from his wrath and looks you up and down. “Once more, dove. Just once more, and you’ll regret that little attitude of yours. I can promise you that. Collect yourself…deep breath. Go on.”

You draw in a deep breath, and he nods, then turns back to watch over his kit…seemingly pleased with your contrition. “Good girl. Now, shut…up…”

“Why do you push him?” Jake ghosts into your ear, his hand guiding both of yours a bit further up your thigh.

Your eyes burn into Danny’s back, strong and broad, with the tiniest shiver. “Because I like it.”

His voice calls back, quiet, so only you will hear, “Naughty. Are you trying to get yourself into trouble, princess? You want to piss our sweet Daniel off?”

You nod and tilt your head, absently asking him to kiss that spot on your neck you adore.

His lips connect and suck against the pulsing flesh, tender and thin, just above your jugular.

“Well then, by all means, my love, continue.” he breathes through the kisses he’s spoiling you with. “In fact, allow me.”

He pulls away and gives you a tiny wink. “Just because you’re whispering your complaints to me, doesn’t mean you aren’t still complaining. You were told to shut up.” he swats at your cheek in admonishment as Danny turns back around, arms folded to watch Jake chastise you.

“Little miss trouble still can’t just shut her pretty mouth.” Danny shakes his head as if he’s dumbfounded. “You know what? Get up.”

You hurry to your feet. It’s muscle memory by now, the way your body responds to both of them. In a flash, your elbow is cupped in his firm grasp as he leads you over to a tucked away corner. Dragging a chair along behind him, he then jams it against the wall. “You will sit here quietly until we are good and ready to leave. No more cuddles with your precious Jakey on the couch…you’ve lost that privilege.”

“Dan, don’t be so hard on her, she’s been here all day and…”

Danny holds a hand up, silencing his bandmate. “This is half of the reason she’s like this…this is why she doesn’t behave. You’re too fucking soft with her.”

“That’s not true–” before you can finish your defense, he goes on the offense and yanks you down into the chair.

“You will sit here, and you will remain quiet and calm. You will behave. Do you understand?”

A slow nod with widened eyes is all you can manage as you fold your hands in your lap.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Dan…Why don’t you just turn her to face the wall like a toddler in time out?” Jake snaps, clearly unhappy with what he deems an unjust punishment.

“Why don’t I?” Danny agrees. He reaches down and grabs the wooden seat of the chair, spinning you around like you weigh no more than a bag stuffed with feathers.

“Thanks a lot, Jake.” you snark, staring at the studio wall in a huff.

“Stop it.” Dan barks, with a swift tug on your hair to quell your disrespect.

“Oh, princess…” Jake sounds despairing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“You too.” Danny’s warning is harsh, as is the hiss of breath Jake sucks in. You know without having to see, that Danny has given Jake’s locks a warning tug as well.

The minutes tick by like hours as you stare at the wall, partly humiliated, and partly so turned on you’d very much like to rock against the uncomfortable seat you’re sitting in for just a moment of friction.

Jake has grabbed up his acoustic guitar and is strumming soft songs into the room, and you know he’s done this solely for your benefit…purposely choosing your favorites in order to entertain his girl and soften the blow of her solitary damnation.

Truth be told, Danny knows this too, but chooses to ignore it in favor of allowing you this slight reprieve.

At last, the three of you are slipping out of the studio and into the car.

“Backseat.” Dan orders you, but Jake shakes his head firmly.

“No.” He braces his hand on the door when you attempt to climb into the back. “She rides up front just like always. I don’t care if you’re angry with her…that’s her spot, and I won’t have it.”

They stare each other down in the sickening yellow glow of a flickering street lamp until Danny must see it in Jake’s eyes…he won’t back down from this one. He pulls open the driver’s side in concession, and Jake opens the passenger door up for you, guiding you in with his hand on the small of your back.

Both of them watch to ensure you’ve clicked your seatbelt into place, and then, with Jake secured in the seat behind you, Dan starts for home.

The ride is quiet, and tense with what the three of you know is coming next…and you simply cannot wait.

“Are you thirsty?” Jake asks after you’ve showered and swaddled yourself up in your favorite robe. It’s pink flannel, threadbare and frayed from years of use, riddled with holes, and well-loved.

“No.” you shake your head and chance a nervous glance at Danny, who just happens to be heating up the blood in your veins with a predatory stare from his place, leaned against the door jamb.

Jake snatches the bottle of water off the little table beside your bed, snaps a finger for you to sit, and then screws off the cap with an exasperated flourish.

“Open.” he orders in that quiet, yet authoritative tone he’s mastered, and then the bottle is being guided to your lips. “You know better, baby. You know better. It’s good for you. Drink.”

Jerking away from him, you take the water and sip it on your own with a small sound of opposition that illustrates your frustration.

He chews on his cheek, masking the smile threatening to play over his lips…he likes you with a little fire in your belly.

“See?” Danny sighs, sounding over the situation entirely. “I’d have her bent over that bed with a belt on her pretty ass and a gag in her smart mouth if she pulled away from me like that. Just like I told you, you let her get away with too much. That’s why she’s such a fucking brat.”

“So come and spank me then.” you unwisely challenge.

A soft sound of surprise slinks out of Jake as he fixes you with a glare. He’s angry now too, he doesn’t care for watching you get yourself into trouble, and the moment Danny pushes off the doorway, fists clenched and a wild look in his eye, you know you’re up shit creek without a paddle, floating along in a boat that is rapidly taking on water.

He cocks his head as he crosses the room, studying you curiously. “What did you just say to me?”

Your stomach is somersaulting decadently, so you try your luck a little more. “You heard me.”

“Princess,” Jake snaps unhappily. “Not another word. Apologize.”

You drop your chin and stare up at Danny’s face through your lashes. “I’m very sorry, daddy. I’ll be good now.”

His hand, large and sure, is clasped firmly around your jaw in a flash, raising your face to his. “Don’t you Daddy me, that’s not going to save you now.” Normally that title melting past your lips weakens him. “Come on…” he grabs you by the wrist and cocks his head at Jake to follow. “My room, tonight.”

Oh no, fuck...

Turning your head, you catch Jake’s eye over your shoulder as Danny hustles you down the hall, but he simply shakes his head, resigned, as if to say ‘You made your bed, now you can lie in it, and get whatever else is coming to you in it, as well.’

This is the thing…

Your room is where they coddle you. It’s where they baby you and let you run the show, as much as their natural dominance will allow, anyway. It’s where you lie together when you’re too sleepy for anything else. Where you watch movies, and read, legs tangled together under the softness of your satin duvet. And, while they maintain their own spaces for a host of reasons, it’s where the three of you rest each night because neither one of them can sleep without you.

Jake’s room is where you land when you’ve earned a sort of ‘rewarding punishment’, if you will. Where his affinity for watching you in the throes of overstimulation really takes stage. More times than you can count, his enormous four poster bed has seen you trembling, tears streaming down your face, thighs and sheets soaked, as you beg them to stop and plead with them to keep going all at once. It’s no secret, they both love to watch you cum more than just about anything…but your Jakey gets off on it like nothing you’ve ever seen.

Daniel’s room, on the other hand, is where your disobedience goes to die. The unassuming chest at the foot of his bed– probably houses extra sheets and blankets, right? –is a treasure trove of weaponry to wrangle you back into your place when you’ve lost your way. Scarves and blindfolds. A special pair of airpods reserved just for filling your head with looming, ominous, classical music when they feel a bit of sensory deprivation is in order. Ropes and straps to keep you exactly where they want you. Paddles and floggers that really only sting…a thin switch that does more than sting. A pair of heels that are so sky high, even the most seasoned stripper might snap an ankle, earmarked for Jake, as he likes to feel them bite into the small of his back when he fucks you. Gags and hooks, plugs and spreader bars…they’re all there.

Also, present and accounted for judging by the jangle of metal that assaults your ears as Jake is kissing a winding trail over your collarbone…are the cuffs. You hate them most of all.

“Oh, Daniel, no…” Jake murmurs into your neck without bothering to look away from his task. “She likes to be able to touch. Hates the cuffs, don’t you, princess?”

Before you have a chance to reply, Danny shuts both of you down. “I don’t recall asking what she wants. What I do recall is dealing with an insubordinate, insufferable, brat all night. Whining about this, complaining about that. I had to put you in the corner like a child…” he sidles up behind you and pulls your hands away from the warmth of Jake’s shoulders. “Are you proud of yourself? Because you should’ve been on your knees the second we walked through the front door, begging forgiveness…”

He pauses to pull your hands behind your back. “but no…what did you do? You gave us even more trouble. You’ve been so, so bad tonight, little one.” his lips trace the shell of your ear, “What happens when you misbehave? Hmm? Can you tell Daddy? Can you tell Jakey?”

You’re positively trembling in their arms, “When I misbehave, you take over, Daddy.”

The first cuff, cold and unforgiving, circles your wrist, but Jake intervenes. “Cuff her around front at least.”

“I’ll decide where…”

Jake’s voice, clear and unwavering, cuts Danny off “Hard limit.”

They each get one ‘hard limit’ each go ‘round…maybe two, if they feel strongly enough to fight for it. It means one acquiesces to the other without question. You, on the other hand, are free to trot out your safeword as many times as you’d like. While it may seem that they are the one’s dealing the cards, you own the whole mother-fucking casino.

“God damn it…” Danny mutters, swinging your arms around to click the cuffs into place. Your hands rest secured at your navel, just as Jake has insisted

“That better, baby?” Jake raises your hands and bestows sweeping kisses over your knuckles, “See?” he raises your fingers to brush over his cheek. “Now you can still touch us if you want to.”

“Much better, Jakey…” you smile, petting him gently. “Thank you.”

“Go easy on her, Jacob.” Danny bites out, sarcasm dripping from his lips. You can hear the roll of his eyes, though you can’t see him. “No need to be cruel.”

“Shut up, Daniel…” Jake cups your face and kisses your forehead. “She’s my princess.”

“Yeah? Well your princess has a smart fucking mouth, doesn’t she?” his palm coils around your throat. “I think it’s time we fuck the attitude right off your tongue, dove. Don’t you?”

A choked moan climbs out of your constricted throat as his free hand sinks into your hair. In a breath, you’re wrenched from Jake’s embrace and hauled into Danny’s as he drags you over to the hook in the wall. It looks like it’s there to hang a jacket, or a bag, at first glance…but upon further inspection, it obviously rests much lower than it would for an innocent task. No one ever looks that closely though…you’d be shocked by what the human eye will fail to notice.

“Down.” the order is issued softly, but you drop as though he’s screamed it.

“Hands.” he adds just as softly, and your hands fly up, catching the short cuff chain over the hook just as you’ve been trained to do.

“Good girl.” Jake praises, ambling over to stand beside his looming tower of a partner. “See how well she listens?”

“No.” Danny grabs your face and pries your mouth open with the fingers of his opposite hand. “She just happens to enjoy a mouthful of dick. Isn’t that right, little one? You love a nice hard cock down your throat, don’t you?”

You nod and let your mouth hang open even once he’s pulled his fingers away…legs parted against the robe that has now almost completely fallen open, baring you to their hungry eyes. You mustn’t press your thighs together for friction, they’ll notice, and they won’t be pleased.

“Who’s first?” Danny asks, tugging the flannel apart the rest of the way in order to pinch your aching nipples. Jake drops down beside you to suck them into his mouth, soothing the sting away with his tongue…effectively making the decision for you. Not that it would’ve been much of thinker to begin with. Danny asked as a test and Jake’s name would have been a miserable failure on your part.

The metal hiss of Danny’s zipper lowering draws a whine out of you as you arch your back, pressing your breasts closer to the wet kiss spoiling over them. “Listen,” Jake’s rasp is muffled against your skin. “she wants it so bad. Don’t you princess? You want to be a sweetheart and suck him off, don’t you? That’s my girl…my pretty, pink princess.”

“Polish her tiara on your own fucking time, Jacob…” Danny huffs, tugging his cock out as he takes hold of your hair. “Your princess has work to do.”

He looks like a god, standing before you…pumping his thick, leaking cock, tracing it over your lips like filthy lipstick. He is stunning, breathtaking, halfway on his way to frightening, and you would grovel your way through shards of glass simply for the touch of his hand right now. His cock? All the better.

Without a sound, he taps your throat and instantly, with a deep breath, you relax it. “Hmm,” he muses, “maybe Jake’s right, maybe you are a good girl after all.”

With that, he slides in completely. Filling your mouth and your throat to the hilt, until your nose is nuzzling the dark trail of hair that leads to the cock you’re currently swallowed around. He presses you down further still, until your nose is burrowed into his stomach.

“You don’t need to breathe, do you, dove?” he strokes your hair in loving contrast with the assault he is waging on your esophagus.

You gurgle a vibrating hum around his length and shake your head. He swiftly jerks you back by the hair. “You’d rather choke on my cock than breathe?”

A docile nod is all you offer as Jake continues to lap his delicate tongue over your nipples. “Please Jakey.” you whisper. His hand moves to slip between your legs, but Daniel puts a stop to it.

“She’s earned nothing.” His attention turns to you once again… “Be glad I’m letting him kiss your pretty tits.” He slides back into your mouth, way down deep, until you’re gagging and retching around him, tears flooding your eyes and pouring down your cheeks. Nose stuffy and urging you to sniffle if only you could draw a proper breath.

“Fuck, little one…” he pants, fucking into your face with the back of your head pressed forcefully against the wall. “So fucking tight…everywhere. Just so…” in he sinks, “fucking…” deeper. “tight…” deeper still.

Your chest is caving in, lungs burning and searing in your chest, but you will accept whatever Danny sees fit to give you, and you will love it, so you fight the urge to jingle the cuffs with three quick yanks as you’ve been taught.

Jake steps in anyway and shoves Danny back “Let her fucking breathe.” He sounds so unlike himself that for a moment, the room stands still and quiet.

Once you’ve caught your breath and Jake has made sure that Danny plans to go a little easier on you, he rises to his feet and wanders off. You know where he’s going, and you know why. Daniel has many favorite toys lingering about in that treasure chest…

Jake has only one. One that he prizes far and away above the rest. The tinkling clatter that rings through the room, proves you right. He’s retrieving it now, ready to put it to good use.

“Bring her here.” his voice is gentle. As it almost always is.

Danny pulls his cock out of your mouth with a groan that proves how close he had been, and lifts your cuffs off the hook, helping you to your feet.

Your breath catches excitedly when your gaze lands on Jake…your beloved bleeding heart, toying with the leash and collar he so adores. “C’mere, princess. Look at the pretty necklace I have for you.”

Starting forward on your feet, Danny stops you with his hands on your shoulders, pushing you to your knees, guiding you into an awkward, shuffling, makeshift crawl…your hands still cuffed in front of you.

Jake shakes his head, feigning sympathy, but it’s there in his eyes, he likes it. Likes that you’re on your knees, working hard to close the space between the two of you while he tauntingly plays with the chain linked to the leather collar that’s just for you.

“You know you’re very pretty on your knees…” he gently runs the collar down your cheek when you wait before him. You nod, and lean into his love. “Say it.”

“I’m very pretty…” you shiver as Danny’s fingers push between your legs and dip inside your twitching cunt. “I’m pretty on my knees for you, because that’s where I belong.”

Jake hums with an approving smile flashing on his perfect mouth. “Daniel, leave my princess to whine for it, and hold her hair up for me.”

For once, Danny listens, dragging his finger, glossed and dripping with your slick, up your spine until he reaches the nape of your neck. He gathers your hair and sweeps it up, leaning in to whisper into the crook of your neck. “We’re going to fucking ruin you.” With a nip of his teeth, he pulls back, leaving Jake to fasten the collar around your throat.

The buckle connects with a hushed clink, and Jake steps back to admire his work. “Look at you…” he cups the globes of your breasts, letting the chain dangle between them, chilling you. “You take everything we give you so well, don’t you, princess? Who’s our sweet little toy? Hmm? Is that you? Are you our good girl?”

You flush with heat, head to toe, under his praise– and flush hotter still when Danny snaps your head back by the hair he still has bundled in his fist. “No, she’s not. Stop babying her. Either help me punish her or go away and wait until I’m through.”

In response, Jake jerks you forward, whipping the leash around his clenched fist to pull you close. The harsh, unexpected, force knocks the wind out of you with the tiniest gasp.

“Oh, my poor baby…” he croons into the ear Danny was speaking into a moment ago. “You’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble, haven’t you? Oh well, nothing to be done about it now.” He drops his volume even lower, to share a secret. “You listen, alright, princess? Don’t make this worse. He’s very upset with you.”

You nod imperceptibly– he’ll feel it…and then hand yourself over to your fate.

Silently, he leads you to your feet and nods at the bed. “Down you go…you know what I want.”

These are easy enough instructions to follow because, yes you do know what he wants…what he always wants. You lie down on the bed, stretch your secured hands over your head invitingly, and spread your legs.

Danny scoffs in irritation as Jake settles between your legs, lining his pretty face up with your cunt. “I tell you not to baby her, and you think the best way to go about that is to spoil her where she wants it most? This is pointless.”

“Shut up.” Jake casts Danny aside verbally and leans in to lick a soft, slow trail along your swollen clit.

Your hands reach to sink into his hair, careful not to hurt him with the metal of the cuffs, and his eyes flutter up to yours, glossy and lazy already, as if he’s drunk on you. “Gonna make you cum, princess.” his promise is slurred as he sucks at you. “Do it right for me. All messy and dirty…right on my face.”

“Yeah, Jakey…” you nod urgently, grinding up into his kiss, eager to get on with it. “Promise, baby…I promise, just..please…”

Never one to make you wait, he seals his lips, silken and plush, over your clit and begins to suck…watching you all the while. Gentle moans vibrating into your core to answer each one that escapes your throat and calls to him.

It feels like you’ve waited a thousand years, and your body decides on its own accord that it can wait no longer. “Don’t stop,” you whine, eyes on Danny’s darkened face as Jake coaxes your orgasm closer and closer to the surface. “Right there, Jakey…right fucking there…fuck, fuck!”

At the last second, as though he can feel all those tiny little bombs detonating in your body, Danny lurches Jake back by the hair, fighting for the upper-hand when Jake struggles to return to his rightful place between your legs. He stills when Danny circles his hand around his throat and draws him in close until they’re eye to eye, nose to nose. “I want to make her cum…she’s so pretty when she cums. C’mon, just one?”

Danny’s tongue, pink and curled, laps over Jake’s mouth, savoring the lingering taste of you. “She can cum when she deserves to cum.”

“But I’ve been good, and…” a hard glare from Jake closes your mouth, you promised him you’d listen.

“So our insufferable fucking whore knows what’s best for her after all?” Danny mocks, sending a delicious shiver trickling its way up your spine.

“Oh look, Jake…” he grins wickedly. “Your pillow princess likes it when I call her names. Maybe you should try it sometime…maybe you should stop being so soft on her…think with your cock for once.”

A moan bursts out of you that stuns you all…you hadn’t even felt it coming, you just need them to do something so badly. “You’re paying an awful lot of attention to each other,” you venture. “Should I leave you two alone?”

Both of their eyes laser in on you instantly…each blazed and scorching with a ferocity that causes you to whimper and cower into the pile of pillows behind you.

“Up.” Jake orders, sounding far too much like Danny for your comfort. He is your safety net, the one who steps in to save you from yourself and your natural bratty tendencies. “Hands and knees.”

You roll around instantly, bracing yourself on your elbows with your bound hands clasped.

Jake tosses the robe that is still attached to you due to the cuffs aside and cracks your ass. “Look, my princess has found some sense, Daniel…let’s fuck it out of her.”

They climb onto the bed. Their weight dips the mattress and makes you quiver in unnerved anticipation…but it’s a disconcert that is soaked in bliss…you want them so badly, no matter what they have in store.

Sidling up behind you, the leash is suddenly pulled back with a violent force that pops your eyes open wide. Jake tugs you around, back and forth, gauging his control. When he seems satisfied with the power held in his grip, he runs a hand over the small of your back, “All ours now, aren’t you, princess? How about a cock in your cunt, and another down your throat, yeah? Does pretty girl wanna be stuffed full?”

“Can you just…” you falter with a gasp and then center yourself. “Can you just fuck me, already? I need it…I need it so badly.”

“Getting bossy again, I see…” Danny positions himself in front of you and grabs you by the hair once again…it may as well be reins at this point. “Don’t mind her, Jacob…I’ll shut her up.”

With that, his cock slides deeply into your starved mouth once again, settling in like it’s coming home. “There it is, little one…there’s that smart mouth that likes to love on my cock. Take it, dove…fuckin’ take it. You like the way it tastes? You like the way it feels when I plug your pretty throat right up?”

You nod around him, and Jake uses your distraction to his advantage…slamming into you with one wet, unforgiving, thrust. The force of it sends Danny’s beautiful cock even further down your throat, leaving you to gag out a muffled wail as your cunt swallows Jake’s cock and your throat sucks Danny’s in all the way to the base.

“Ah, fuck…” Danny fights the whimper in his tone, but it still comes through loud and clear. “That’s it, dove…just like that…justlikethat…”

Jake is fucking into you relentlessly, edging you closer at a slow, yet steady clip…guiding you along, leash strong and true in his grip. “That’s right, princess…” he fucks you in time with his words. “Suck his cock…so big and fat you can hardly fit it in your little mouth…look at you, all stretched out around us both. See, Daniel? Look how sorry she is. Good girl, baby..good girl.”

Danny’s hand cracks against your cheek, delivering a smack that you wish you could carry the sting of for the rest of your life. “Harder, little one…suck me harder.”

You’re drooling all over his dick and the sheets, soaking Jake’s cock and the sheets at that end as well but you can’t be bothered to care.

“So fucking tight…” Jake rasps, hips stuttering. “She’s getting so fucking tight. C’mon baby, cum for us…choke my cock…fucking strangle me…”

You attempt to pull back as your orgasm slams into you, lashing at your senses with a vigorous violence that steals the breath from your lungs…but Dan has other ideas, and his cock buries into your throat deeper. “There you go…” he sounds like he too is teetering on the brink. “There you fucking go. You take that cock, dove. Suck it right down…Swallow everything I–” he trails off with a groan that could rattle the windows. “Swallow, sweetheart…swallow me…good…good, fu–...good fucking girl.”

He comes to a stuttering end, but Jake is still working away at you from behind. You stay still, quiet moans spurring him on as he yanks and tugs at the leash to remind you of your place between them. “Whose cum does princess want inside? You’ve already got a bellyful of Daniel? You want a cuntful of me?”

“Yes yes yesyesyesyes…” you beg, licking along the length of Danny to collect anything that may have escaped your mouth. He is sensitive, that much is obviously by the way he can’t stay still and the whines he’s attempting to mask. Still, he allows you to indulge in every last drop of your favorite thing.

The force in which he pulls at the leash is unrivaled…it sends you careening up and away from Danny as Jake fucks into you hard and fast, hand splayed over you, fingers on your clit, but solely to hold you in place…he’s seeking his own end now, knowing yours has come to pass.

He holds you, still and breathless, against him, collar tucked into your throat deeply, his cock tucked inside you deeper still.

“Baby..” he collapses down over your back, chin tucking over your shoulder, that familiar softness returning to his tone as he lets go inside your cunt. “Baby, baby, fuck yes baby…fuck…oh, princess…”

He’s babbling, hands gripping and squeezing at you like he’ll never touch you again…and you love it. You’d stay here forever if you could…between these two gorgeous men you love so much, and who love you even more in turn.

Slowly, he releases the tension on the leash, and then lets go all together as you collapse down against the bed. Danny’s hands are charting maps along the span of your back, as Jake heads to seek out the keys for the cuffs…ever eager to deliver you from punishment the second it seems within reach.

Danny is first on his feet, as he so often is, and you’re scooped into his arms. Tucked against him, with Jake moving just behind, hand on your ankle, you feel safe, loved, secure…collar still looped around your neck, ready for the next opportunity to run your smart mouth.

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#greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet #greta van fic #fanfic #greta van smut #gvf fic #jake gvf #gvf danny #danny gvf #danny wagner #jake kiskza #jake kiszka fanfic #gvf smut

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legends-of-time · 4 months

Text

Amelia’s Story (BBC Merlin Story)

Chapter 10: Lancelot

Masterlist

Amelia's POV

Amelia is still mostly on bed rest. No one will let her out of their sight. Uther gave orders for Guards to go around with her all the time, which she finds very annoying. Even more irritating is that Merlin, who was poisoned and practically died for a couple of seconds before the antidote worked, is told he must go and start work again as soon as he is able to stand. She is able to rest more, which is stupid as it is not like once she is up and about she will be doing any strenuous work. Society is stupid.

Soon rumours begin spreading of a creature with wings taking people from Villages. She finds out about it when Arthur and Uther come back from seeing the damage it had done to a Village.

"Arthur?" She calls from the top of the stairs leading to the Castle when she sees both of them dismount from their horses. She had escaped her watchers to have some time on her own but her curiosity got the better of her when she saw Uther and Arthur returning. "Where were the two of you?"

"Amelia! You should not be up." Uther chastises her.

"I'm not going to break at a slight amount of exercise. It is not healthy to sit about all day." Amelia reprimands. Uther acts like he hasn't heard her and walks past her and into the Castle leaving just Amelia and Arthur.

Arthur rolls his eyes and walks up the steps towards her. "Here. I'll take you back to your Chambers."

"Fine." She resigns and lets him guide her. "But where were you? Uther looks worried and so do you."

He sighs as he walks next to her, "A Village has been attacked by a winged beast that seems to have a taste for human flesh." At her horrified look, he says, "Do not worry, we are putting up sentries in all the outlying Villages and lookouts are on full alert. We will be ready for it if it arrives. Do not tell anyone yet."

Having got the jist that Arthur has closed the conversation, Amelia lets him take her to her Chambers and drop her off.

——

Later on, after having snuck out of her Chambers again, Amelia catches Merlin slipping into the Hall of Records so she follows and sees him search for a book then taking one. "Merlin?" She whispers. He jumps. "What are you doing?"

"Er... n-nothing?" What probably is intended as a statement comes out as a question. Amelia shakes her head and just watches him as he glances over his shoulder to Geoffrey of Monmouth who is watching him. "Homework." He says. Merlin opens the book, smiles down and closes it immediately. A cloud of dust rises and he sneezes. Amelia laughs at his face.

"You are planning something." She whispers to him.

"Maybe. You going to help?" He asks.

"I do not particularly like how you are trying to get me involved before I even know what this is about."

"Trust me." Merlin sits down then opens the book to a page of Northumbrian nobility and pulls out a piece of parchment. She frowns wondering what he was intending to do with a book about nobility. "Ic us bisen hræd tán hwanon." He chants. Amelia quickly glances over to Geoffrey in panic, hoping he is not listening but it seems he isn't. Merlin pulls out the piece of parchment, which seems to have copied the other.

Amelia hadn't noticed that Geoffrey had wandered over till she hears him clear his throat. Merlin quickly turns and hands Geoffrey the book. "It's a... real page turner." Before the both of them depart, leaving behind a confused Geoffrey.

——

On the way to Gaius' Chambers, Merlin explains the situation to Amelia. Apparently, a man, called Lancelot, had saved his life from the winged beast and the man really wants to become a Knight but he cannot do that as he is not a member of the nobility. So Merlin is determined to help him.

"You sure there will be no consequences Merlin?" She asks him worriedly.

"It'll be fine Amelia." He says exasperated but she is still concerned. She had checked her notes after Arthur and Uther returned to see any mention of the beast and the notes mentioned that when this beast turns up, Merlin helps a man called Lancelot to become a Knight but Uther figures it out yet the two of them later defeat the winged beast. Thanks for the details past Amelia.

They enter and Lancelot immediately stands up. "My lady." He says bowing. He literally bows.

Amelia looks at Merlin awkwardly but he provides no help. "Ummm... hi? Er... I'm Lady Amelia Hallewell one of the King's wards."

"Amelia, this is Lancelot." Merlin introduces. Lancelot looks shocked at how informally Merlin addresses her, but he does not mention it as he notices the parchment Merlin is holding. "What's that?"

Merlin holds up the parchment, "This is your seal of nobility."

"I don't understand," Lancelot says, clearly hoping Merlin is not saying what he thinks he's saying.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Lancelot, fifth son of Lord Eldred of Northumbria."

"No, Merlin. No."

"Oh, right. So you don't want to be a Knight, then." Merlin says sarcastically.

"Of course I do!" Lancelot insists.

"Well... the rules don't allow it. Damn the rules! The rules are wrong!" Merlin vehemently declares.

"But it's a lie. It's against everything the Knights stand for."

"You have as much right to be a Knight as any man. I know it." Merlin says

"But the rules, Merlin." Lancelot desperately tries to explain to him.

"Don't let him go against his conscience Merlin," Amelia says.

"But we're not breaking the rules. We're bending them, that's all. You get your foot in the door. But after that, you will be judged on your merit alone. And if you succeed - if they make you a Knight - it'll be because you earned it, noble or not. I can't change the way things are done around here, but you can... if you let me help you."

——

All three of them head to Gwen's house so that Lancelot can get measured for his armour. As Gwen is taking Lancelot's measurements, Lancelot tries to awkwardly talk to her.

"Thi..." He clears his throat. "This is very kind of you, er..."

"Gwen." She tells him.

"Gwen." He repeats.

"Short for Guinevere."

"Ah. Then thank you, Guinevere."

"Don't thank me. Thank Merlin. Merlin would do anything for anyone, wouldn't you, Merlin?" Merlin shrugs as if to say it is nothing. "Sorry, can you raise your arms?" Lancelot raises his arms. "Thank you. Sorry. I think it's great that Merlin's got you this chance. We need men like you." Gwen says.

"You do?" He asks surprised.

"Well, not me personally, but you know... Camelot. Camelot needs Knights. Not just Arthur and his kind, but ordinary people like you and me." Oh, Gwen; so awkward.

"Well, I'm not a Knight yet, My Lady." That was a flirt there.

"And I'm not a lady." Gwen giggles.

"Sorry, my..."

"Okay, we're done. Erm... I should have these ready in no time. It's nice to meet you, Lancelot." Gwen reaches out to shake hands. Lancelot takes her hand and kisses it. Amelia leaves with Merlin and Lancelot before telling them she will meet them later when Lancelot tries to pass the test.

——

Merlin's POV

Merlin and Lancelot walk down the Courtyard Corridor after saying goodbye to both Amelia and Gwen.

"She seems lovely. Guinevere." Lancelot brought up awkwardly.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, she is. And the best seamstress in Camelot, I promise." Merlin says enthusiastically not realising the real reason behind Lancelot's bringing up the subject.

"Are you two... you know." Lancelot once again says awkwardly.

Merlin laughs. "No, no. Just friends." Merlin says definitively, giving Lancelot a sideways look.

"Is there anyone? For you?" Lancelot then asks less awkwardly.

"N-no! No!" Merlin says somewhat nervous and shy now. Lancelot smirks at him.

——

Amelia's POV

Anne arrives at the Training Grounds along with Merlin, Gwen and Amelia to support Lancelot in his attempt to become a Knight.

They all watch as Arthur trains his recruits as Merlin and Gwen fix Lancelot's costume.

"One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four."

"Well... you certainly look the part," Merlin says nervously.

"Doesn't he just?" Gwen compliments.

"I don't feel it," Lancelot mutters unsurely. Glancing over to where Arthur is finishing up training.

"Okay, that'll do for today. Well done." Arthur announces.

"Here's your chance. Go for it." Merlin says nudging Lancelot forward. Amelia gives him a smile of encouragement.

As Lancelot approaches Arthur, who is putting a sword in the sword rack, Merlin turns to her and says, "I do not know why you are so worried everything is going to be fine. He deserves this."

"I never said he didn't." She replies. "I just do not believe you should just go against the rules like this Merlin. Lying is not the right way." Before looking over to see Lancelot handing over his 'seal' bowing and saying, "Sire."

Arthur suddenly smacks him and Lancelot falls down. Should have guessed he would do that. "Sluggish reactions. In a battle field you'd be dead by now. Come back when you're ready." Arthur says before walking off. Lancelot gets up and places his hand on his sword.

"I'm ready now, Sire." He says.

Arthur turns back around. "You are, are you?" He asks sarcastically. "Fine. You can start by cleaning out the stables." Onlookers laugh. Lancelot looks uncertainly at Merlin, who gives him two thumbs up while Gwen, Amelia and Anne give him uneasy smiles.

——

So Lancelot finds work at the stables. Merlin tells Amelia how Arthur had approached him to fight with broom handles. She supposes that is a positive even if it did sound a bit odd.

Suddenly the warning bells began ringing. Oh no. This means something had happened with the monster of the week.

She hurries out into the Main Square to see multiple people being brought in. She spots Gaius treating a woman's head near one of the gates and Merlin helping an injured woman to sit near him. She goes over to them forgetting what she'd been told about running around.

As Amelia reaches them, Gaius looks up at her, "My lady you should not be running." He says with a small smile on his face implying that he isn't being serious.

"Yes but you and I both know that I am quite physically recovered and am perfectly capable of running." She responds sarcastically.

He smiles at her before Merlin draws his attention away. "How is she?"

"Okay." Gaius answers. Lancelot runs up to them then. "What happened to these people?" He asks.

"Their Village was attacked by a winged monster," Gaius says. Amelia sees Merlin and Lancelot exchange a look. Had they seen it? Oh, wait she remembers Merlin telling her. Her memory sometimes goes a bit foggy on recent memories unless something reminded her of them.

——

Merlin later hurries up to her telling her that Arthur had agreed to bring Lancelot's test forward to the next morning, which leads to the four of them, Merlin, Gwen, Anne and Amelia, standing at the sidelines to watch.

Arthur and Lancelot stand dressed in full armour opposite each other. "Well, here we are. Your final challenge. Succeed and you join the elite. Fail and your journey ends here. Lancelot, fifth son of Lord Eldred of Northumbria..." Arthur nods to the timekeeper. "Your time starts now."

Arthur and Lancelot put on their helmets. They begin to fight. Lancelot then swings and misses Arthur. Gwen grabs Merlin's shirt in her anxiety. "Oh, sorry." She mutters before letting go. Amelia knows she doesn't need to be nervous, her notes say that he successfully becomes a Knight, it's just what happens after.

Arthur punches Lancelot causing him to fall back, his helmet goes askew. Arthur puts his sword in the ground, removes his helmet and goes to remove Lancelot's flag. "Shame." He says. Lancelot suddenly gets up, knocks Arthur off his feet and puts him at sword point. "Do you submit, Sire?" He asks him.

Guards restrain Lancelot. Arthur gets up, apparently angry, and grabs his sword. "On your knees!" Arthur angrily commanded. Oh Arthur, what a performance. Guards force Lancelot to his knees. Arthur puts the sword to Lancelot's chest.

——

Soon enough they are all in the Throne room watching Lancelot get knighted.

Lancelot kneels with a sword to his chest. "Arise, Sir Lancelot, Knight of Camelot." Uther says putting the sword on each of Lancelot's shoulders before Lancelot stands up and everybody begins to clap.

"Who is this man? He seems to have come out of nowhere." Morgana asks Anne, Gwen and Amelia. Oh Morgana you're missing out.

"I know. It's been a bit of a surprise to all of us." Gwen says giving Anne and Amelia a knowing smile.

Amelia looks over and sees Uther open Lancelot's seal and address a lady of the Court. Matilda something. Judging from his frown, he has realised something.

——

Morgana, Gwen, Anne and Amelia all enter the Hall of Ceremonies together approaching one of the tables before Gwen and Anne split off to walk towards Merlin.

She notices Arthur looking in her and Morgana's direction while Lancelot looks towards Merlin, Anne and Gwen, who are laughing and chatting together, from where they sit on a table. She wrinkles her nose when Morgana notices Arthur's gaze and deliberately looks back. The odd bit is that she knows that, other than being cousins, there is another reason why she does not like it but she can't remember.

"Stop that please," Amelia says to Morgana. She laughs.

Amelia leaves her, meandering towards Merlin, Anne and Gwen as Merlin grabs another drink from a passing servant. "Careful Merlin." She hears Anne joke. Merlin sends a small bashful smile in her direction blushing. Mmm...

"Hello," Amelia says when she places herself at Gwen's side. "What have I missed?"

Merlin snaps out of his embarrassed state and turns to her saying, "Lancelot seems to fancy Gwen!" Gwen shushes him as he had said it quite loudly.

"Anyway." Merlin draws out. "Gwen, just for the sake of argument. If you had to, Arthur or Lancelot."

"But I don't have to and I never will," Gwen says humorously. Oh Gwen, you have no idea.

"Oh, you are no fun, Gwen," Merlin says. They all laugh.

Arthur then pounds on the table he is sitting on getting everyone's attention and stands up. "Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in a toast to our new recruit, our new Knight of Camelot, Sir Lancelot." He raises his goblet with everyone else. The crowd applauds. Lancelot and Arthur toast.

——

Turns out lying about your status has consequences as Lancelot has been arrested, stripped of his title and thrown into jail.

Merlin had gone to see Lancelot, who had, typically, been all noble and selfless despite the fact that Merlin is the one that had a larger amount of the blame between the two of them.

Merlin now sits sadly on the stairs in Gaius' Chambers in front of Gaius and Amelia.

"Merlin?" Gaius tentatively asks.

"Whatever you do, don't say, "I told you so."" Merlin says stopping him.

"I have no wish to gloat, Merlin. What's done is done." Gaius says.

"Well, Gaius has found something if you are interested?" Amelia asks.

Merlin looks up. "What is it?" He asks.

"Here. Come and take a look at this." Gaius says, opening a book. Merlin and Amelia follow him. "I realised my mistake. I've been looking for the creature in the wrong place, in the records of all known living things in the Kingdom. And then I thought, but what about creatures only recorded in legend? In myth? Then I discovered this." He opens up onto the page of the beast of the week. A Griffin.

"That is it. That's the monster." Merlin says seemingly perked up. Warning bells suddenly sound. Merlin, Gaius and Amelia go to the window. People are running wildly around the Square, screaming as the Griffin swoops down overhead.

"On me! On me!" Arthur cries from the centre of the Square. Knights surround Arthur in a defence pattern. "Defence!" The Knights crouch down. The Griffin attacks. The Knights get up and reform attack pattern. The Griffin lands in the Square. "Charge! On me!" Arthur strikes the Griffin in the chest with a spear. The spear breaks. Arthur looks surprised and falls backwards. A Guard tosses him a torch. Arthur reaches for it and waves the torch at the Griffin and it takes off making hissing sounds.

——

Merlin, Gaius and Amelia are already standing in the corner of the Council Chambers as Arthur, Uther and their entourage enter.

"You said your Knights were the best in the land. You proved that today." Uther says.

"All I know is it's still out there," Arthur says, not as quick to celebrate as his father is.

"Let's not wait for it. The Kingdom has been menaced by this creature for too long. We finish this now." Uther says determinately.

"Sire, if I may." Gaius pipes up.

"Gaius?" Uther asks distractedly as if he has only just noticed their presence.

"I've been researching this creature, Sire. I believe it to be a Griffin."

"A Griffin? What's in a name?" Amelia quietly sniggers at that response. She hadn't drawn Uther's or Gaius' attention but both Merlin and Arthur give her an odd look.

"The Griffin is a creature of magic," Gaius says drawing her, Arthur and Merlin back to the conservation.

"I don't have time for this, Physician." She doesn't know why Uther dismisses Gaius so much, he wouldn't be able to survive without him.

"It is born of magic, Sire, and it can only be killed by magic." Gaius persists.

"You are mistaken. It's a creature of flesh and blood like any other. Arthur proved that today." Idiot.

"I'm not so sure, Father. I think there may be some truth in what he says." Thank you, Arthur.

"What truth?" Uther asks annoyed. He hates to be proven wrong yet he so often is.

"The Griffin was unharmed, Sire. Our weapons seemed useless against it."

"Useless? I think not. No, it's tasted our steel once, the next time will be its last. When will your Knights be ready to ride again?" Once again an idiot.

"An hour. Maybe two." Arthur says resignedly.

"Good. We finish this tonight." Uther says with finality. Amelia purses her lips in annoyance.

——

After grabbing Anne, as she believes they need all the magical help they could get, Amelia enters Gaius' Chambers along with Gaius and Merlin.

"Is it true? The Griffin can only be killed by magic?" Anne asks.

"Yes. I'm certain of it. If Arthur rides out against it, he'll die." Gaius says surely.

"Then he must be stopped. Uther must see reason." Merlin says.

"Where magic is concerned, our King is blind to reason. And yet...magic is our only hope." Well, at least Gaius is aware of their King's stupidity.

"You're not suggesting..." Merlin's sentence pans out as Gaius nods his head. "Why not Anne?"

"It is your destiny, Merlin. The true purpose of your magic." Anne answers him.

"You have all seen it. I can't go up against that thing." Merlin says determinedly.

"But if you do not, then Arthur will probably die," Amelia says.

"No... this is madness. I don't have magic that powerful. There must be another way." Merlin says doubtfully as he paces for a moment.

"You should have more faith, Merlin," Amelia says walking up to him. She personally needs it after her memory loss.

"This is the only way," Gaius says.

"Do you even care what happens to me?" Merlin turns his frustration to Gaius. "Oh, just do this, Merlin. Do that, Merlin. Go and kill the Griffin, Merlin. I'll just sit here and warm my feet by the fire." His voice sounds a little watery as if he is trying not to cry.

"Merlin! Merlin, you are the only thing I care about in all this world. I would give my life for you without a thought. But for what? I cannot save Arthur. It is not my destiny. You know." Gaius says encouragingly, it is quite sweet actually.

"I'm sorry," Merlin says sorrowfully in an almost whisper.

"I don't know what else I can say," Gaius says resignedly, Anne hums in agreement.

"I'll say it for you. We have two hours to find a way to kill that thing." Merlin says with more confidence.

"Well, what are we standing here for? Let's get on with it!" Amelia cries. They all chuckle at her announcement.

——

Before long they are flipping through Merlin's magic book to find the spell.

"There. You must do this for Arthur." Gaius says pointing at one of the pages.

"I've never cast a spell of enchantment this powerful," Merlin says sounding insecure again.

"Nothing less will kill it," Anne says.

"Here." Gaius hands Merlin a rusty dagger. "Try. You have it within you. I know you do."

"Bregdan anweald gafeluec." Merlin mutters. Nothing happens. They all look at each other.

"Don't worry, Merlin, we have plenty of time," Amelia says hopefully.

Merlin continues to try the spell around the Chambers and even crouches at one point and it doesn't work.

"Don't worry, Merlin. I know you're trying." Anne says putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"And I'm failing. And if Arthur dies because I'm not good enough..." Merlin says angrily sitting on the steps to his Chamber.

"Merlin!" Gaius reproaches from his seat.

"Maybe you need the adrenaline of the moment?" Amelia suggests. But before anything can be said Gwen runs in.

"Merlin! Lancelot's riding out to kill the Griffin!" She cries.

"He's what?" Merlin says in shock. Gwen shrugs helplessly causing to Merlin stand up and run out.

"Merlin?" Gaius calls but Merlin doesn't answer him. Anne and Amelia run after him.

"Merlin!" Amelia cries, he turns around to them.

"No, no!" He says indisputably. "You two are not going." Anne opens her mouth to protest but it was too late as Merlin has run off again.

"I suppose we wait," Amelia says resignedly. Anne purses her lips in annoyance.

——

After what felt like hours, Merlin bursts into the Physician's Chambers.

"You did it?!" Gaius exclaims from seeing Merlin's cheerful expression.

"I did it," Merlin says with a bright smile taking over his face. Gaius and Merlin hug while Anne and Amelia look at each other smiling before joining in.

"Thank God!" Gaius says.

——

Merlin, Anne and Amelia round the corner and are faced with the closed doors of the Council Chambers with yelling coming from inside and Lancelot waiting anxiously in front of them with two Guards blocking the entrance.

"What are they doing?" Merlin asks.

"Deciding my fate," Lancelot answers simply.

"They'll restore your Knighthood, of course they will. You killed the Griffin," Merlin says confidently.

"But I didn't kill the Griffin," Lancelot says. The rest of them look at each other in shock though Amelia's is faked. Lancelot walks slightly away from the Guards and they follow. "You did."

"That's ridiculous," Merlin says trying to dissuade him.

""Bregdan anweald"... I heard you. I saw you." Merlin looks worried. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me and I suppose they know." Lancelot nods toward Anne and Amelia. They awkwardly smile at him. "But I cannot take the credit for what I did not do. There'll be no more lies, no more deceit." Again with the nobility.

"What are you going to do?" Amelia asks.

"The only thing I can do, my lady." He says bowing before passing the Guards and bursting through the Council Chambers doors.

"He's going to leave isn't he?" Anne said sadly. Amelia nods.

"I believe he will return though." She says with confidence.

——

A/N: Amelia has forgotten a lot of main points that she won't realise has happened. Like main plot points she assumed that she wouldn't forget and did not note them down. She's going to have to deal with going a bit more blind than she is used to.

Anne's magic is a secret, for now, as it is dangerous for people to know plus Anne doesn't really know Lancelot.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

#bbc merlin #merlin

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imagine-darksiders · 4 years

Text

Cold Hands, Warm Heart.

Chapter 13 - Nepenthe.

Summary: Upon returning to Tri Stone, you discover just how much of an impact you’ve made on the makers there....

Tags: Darksiders, Found Family, Fluff, Death X Reader, Dust is here too, Muscly women, giant dads, giant mother, Idk what Alya is? Feral?

-----

The first thing you notice when you step through the yawning hole that serves as Tri Stone's main gateway, is that the village is eerily, uncharacteristically quiet.

Nothing but the strange duet of lava and water murmuring side by side disturbs the blanket of silence that has settled upon every corner, and even the wind seems to hold its breath as you follow Death over to the stone staircase. Tentative in the face of such a noticeably change, you begin to descend, taking a peek over the wall's side to cast your eyes warily around the training circle where Thane is typically busy laying waste to his wooden dummies. Tonight however, the warrior is nowhere to be found.

“Where is everyone?” you ask aloud, not expecting any kind of answer from the night air or the insects chirping in nearby trees.

Death slows to let you catch up and, providing his own answer to your question, he points a finger down the length of the village, guiding your eyes to the vast doors that lead into the maker's forge. Brows furrowing, you venture up beside him and begin to hear muffled shouting from inside. The closer you get, the louder and sharper it grows.

“That... sounds like Thane, huh?” you gulp, earning a snort from the Horseman.

“It certainly does.”

There are no discernible words, not until you reach the door and Death moves ahead of you to slide them open. As soon as there's a gap to slip through, he nudges you inside and is about to follow when a flurry of pitch-black feathers shoots part his nose and into the forge behind you. Death glares at his bird's receding tail feathers and grumbles, “Oh, by all means, after you.” Then, he too steps inside, letting the door close with a dull thud.

Evidently, your guess as to the owner of the muffled voice had been spot on.

“Yer bloody LUCKY she wasn't hurt!” Thane's roar bounces around the cavernous room and you're fairly certain the force of it dislodges some dust that rains down on you from the ceiling.

All six of the makers are gathered around the anvil in the centre of their forge with a familiar youngling hunched in the middle of them, his ears cast down and his spine bowed under the torrent of scolding he's apparently received before you even arrived. None of them have noticed the newcomers ambling slowly down the hall towards them. As you reluctantly fall behind Death’s longer stride, you can hear the meagre defence Karn is presenting to a notably furious Thane.

“I weren't gonna let anythin' bad happen to her!” he whines.

A patient sigh alerts you to Eideard's presence as he steps up to Thane and rests a hand on his shoulder, tugging him back a little to give Karn some breathing room. “We know you weren't, young one,” he says with the patience of an experienced mother, “And we're sure you were more than prepared to protect her if you had to. But that is besides the -”

“Oh hooo, no. No, you don't!” Thane roughly shrugs the Old One's hand off and whips around to face him. “Don't you start coddlin' the boy! He needs to know he crossed a damn line!”

The last word booms out like a clap of thunder and almost has you ducking behind the safety of the Horseman.

As it turns out, makers absolutely can be as scary – if not scarier than - Death.

You'd never stopped noticing their size, but you violently recall how much bigger makers are when Thane draws himself to his full height. There's a stony edge to his tone that's harder than the surface you walk upon and each ragged breath is puffed out through flaring nostrils, reminding you more of a beast than a man. Even Karn looks as though he wants nothing more than to sink into the ground and escape from the tirade and the judgemental eyes of his fellow makers.

He's fiddling with something in his hands, turning the object over and over anxiously and although you're at a distance, when a flash of copper glints in the firelight, you recognise it as the lost compass you'd found for him in the Temple. His knuckles are almost bone-white as he clings to it with his ungloved hands and every reprimand that Thane tosses his way causes the youngling's fingers to flinch. For all of Karn's size and strength, in the face of Thane's chastising, he looks as though all the courage has been sapped right out of him.

Something in your belly suddenly twists itself into a hot, ugly coil and any dread is replaced with indignation. The gleaming tusks of Tri Stone’s resident warrior don’t seem nearly as intimidating after you’ve seen your friend cowering in a horribly familiar reflection of yourself.

If you could face down the Grim Reaper in Karn's defence, then you sure as Hell aren't about to refrain from defending him again now.

Rolling up your sleeves, you begin to march up ahead of Death, missing the shock that flashes in his eyes and the hand he shoots out to grab at your arm. The Horseman barely manages to keep his fingers from curling into the back of your jumper before he freezes, blinking down at his appendage in surprise. The reaction to try and hold you back had been completely driven by instinct as some older, more cautious part of him recalled how dangerous an angry maker can be.

‘No need to worry about Thane hurting her though,’ he rationalises. Seconds later, Death remembers to aggressively assert to himself that he was not, in fact worried. Snapping his gaze away from his hand, he pads along behind you as you reach the foot of the steps and raise your voice to be heard over Thane's new bout of hollering.

“HEY! Leave him alone!”

The Horseman rolls his eyes. 'Oh, that'll be effective,' he scoffs to himself.

More fool him because funnily enough, it is.

Thane's tirade is promptly cut off at your shout and he swings his head around towards you, his lips falling to cover the tusks jutting from his lower jaw. “Lass?”

Alya and Valus immediately perk up at the sight of you and Muria splays her fingers over her heart, breathing a quiet sigh. “Thank the Stonefather...”

Even Eideard leans a little more heavily against his staff when his old bones are flooded by a dizzying wave of relief washing through them.

Ignoring the others, you march up the stairs like a human on a mission, striding forward until you come to Karn's side and proceed to park yourself directly in front of him, folding your arms and tipping your chin back to glare at Thane. “I've said it to Death and I'm not afraid to say it to you as well!-” That isn't entirely true, given how clammy your hands are becoming as you meet the warrior's steely gaze. “- Don't take it out on Karn! I'm the one you should be yelling at.”

The enormous warrior stares you down with his clouded eye screwed shut and his chest heaving. He's torn, for a moment, between relief at seeing you back unharmed and anger that you'd managed to slip past him earlier. The whole forge seems to wait with bated breath as his face tries to settle on one expression until at last, he curls his lip and looks like he's about to take your advice and divert his frustrations onto you instead of the youngling. Before he can however, there's the sound of a throat being softly cleared and it draws his stare to where the Horseman is leaning back against the surrounding wall.

Death isn't making eye contact with him, apparently too busy inspecting some dirt beneath his fingernails, but the message conveyed in his over-casual stance and hardened jawline is clear to the warrior.

'Don't.'

Thane clenches his teeth as he swaps a heated look between you and the Horseman a few times before he finally lets out a bearish grunt and stabs a finger down in your face, giving it a shake for good measure. “You and Karn,” he growls, “have about as much sense between you as a... as a bloody bomb bug.” And with that cutting retort, he storms past Karn, making sure to collide with the youngling's shoulder on the way.

'Oh,' you blink, pleasantly surprised when Thane doesn't utter anything further as he trudges to the wall and lets his arms slump over the ledge with a churlish huff, 'Is that it?' You'd been prepared for a much louder confrontation.

With a shrug, you peer up at the young maker at your side, finding his eyes are already locked on you and he's sporting a crooked grin.

“You okay?” you mouth.

He whispers back a soft, 'Yeah,' before a wrinkled hand falls on his shoulder and he's guided aside, leaving room for Eideard to step forwards and look down at you. “Y/n, Death. It is good to see you both return in one piece,” he says, giving you a pointed stare, “Thane told us the Horseman had left you here, so when we couldn't find you, I’m afraid we assumed the worst.”

Unable to hold herself back any longer, Alya jumps in, glaring at Karn. “Aye! N' when we realised this howlin' eejit was gone as well, we put two an' two together!”

“Alya!” Muria all but gasps in her direction.

“What? He is an eejit!”

“Alya, for goodness sake, don't be so childish.”

The young maker crosses her arms, lips pursed.

Shooting her a withering glance, Eideard clears his throat. “In any event, the important thing is that you didn't come to any further harm. And-” He lowers his eyes to Death. “- You managed to awaken the Warden. His help will be instrumental in reaching the Foundry.” The Old One then bows his head in a show of both respect and gratitude, uttering, “Thank you, Horseman.”

Regarding how Death's eyes flicker, you imagine he may never get used to receiving a heartfelt 'thank you.' As if he's doubly eager to shrug off Eideard's words, the Horseman pushes himself off the wall and wanders over to you. “Don't thank me just yet, Old one. I have yet to awaken your Guardian.”

“Given your track record, I have no doubt you will succeed in that endeavour as well,” the maker smiles, though the expression soon turns more serious and he adds, “You must, if you want to reach the Tree of Life.”

His pale eyes flick down to you before darting away again so quickly, you nearly miss the movement.

“Ah... Horseman. I understand you are eager to reach the Tree, but...” He stops to think for a moment, unsure of how to phrase his question without insulting Death's abilities. Eventually, he settles on, “The Foundry is dangerous enough in the daylight. Do you intend to tackle it tonight?”

Death narrows his eyes. He knows what the old maker is doing. It's a subtle attempt to keep you in the Forge for a few more hours, to give you some time to rest. They both know, after all, that if you followed Death once, chances are you'll do it again, even if it means foregoing some much needed respite.

He still isn't sure how he's going to address that particular detail – of whether or not you should accompany him to the Foundry. Perhaps waiting until morning will give him time to ponder over the issue. “The darkness will not hamper me,” Death huffs. From the corner of his eye, he sees your face fall. Ah. Perhaps even you are starting to realise you can't keep going forever. “But,” he adds, “There are some.... preparations I need to make first. The Foundry will still be there come sunrise. As will the Tree.”

“Sunrise?” you ask, “What time is that here?”

When all you receive from Death and the makers are blank looks, you smack a hand lightly to your forehead. “Oh yeah, forgot you guys don't wear watches.”

Death resists the urge to let his eyebrows knit together. How many things that he and the makers deem unnecessary or pointless do you miss having from Earth? Things as trite as timepieces? An odd twinge tugs at his chest and it takes him a second to register the sensation as sympathy, and then only another second to shake the feeling loose.

Abruptly, the Horseman lifts his hand and claps it down on your shoulder, getting a surprised 'oof' in response. You turn to shoot him a quizzical look but he's already given you a tender squeeze and let his hand drop, striding past you. “Sunrise will be here soon enough. In the meantime, why don't you 'take a load on,' as you humans like to say?” he suggests, and you're so perplexed by the decidedly considerate gesture, you dumbly stammer back, “I-it's 'take a load off, actually.'”

The Horseman doesn't particularly care if he got the phrase wrong, only that you understood the sentiment behind it. Grunting, he otherwise doesn't respond as he heads towards the furthest set of steps that lead down to a bench sitting beside the outer wall, leaving you in the company of six makers and a crow, who has found a new perch atop Eideard's pronged helm and twists his beak to regard the proceedings with a level of interest only a nosy corvid could have.

Briefly, you make as if you're going to follow Death, then your footsteps grind to a halt when it occurs to you that he might be deliberately separating himself from the group and you're reminded of how much you enjoyed your alone time back home. You can certainly relate to needing some moments to yourself, so, though your legs are burning from being on them all day and your bruised side has begun to ache you remain where you are. Karn and Eideard are still standing by your side, the latter of whom has his long, gnarled fingers stroking absently through the bristles of his beard.

There's a long silence following Death's departure, stretching on and only growing more deafening he longer it remains unbroken. You struggle to find a word to fill it. What should you say? And who should you say it to first?

It's suddenly all so.... overwhelming – having their eyes on you. They've never been gathered together in one place like this before and you can't help but feel as though you're at the centre of the world's biggest intervention. Ironic that the elephant in the room happens to be the smallest member.

Ironic too, is the fact that Valus is the one who eventually breaks the uncomfortable stalemate. He shifts, mumbling something that's lost in his metal helmet and gestures to you with the back of a hand.

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't catch that...” you say in a small voice.

“He said~” Alya huffs, taking a deep breath before she suddenly snaps, “What in the blue, blinkin' name of the Stonefather were you thinkin' of, you - Ow!”

She's cut off by a swift elbow to her side from Valus. “Ugh. Fine, he dinnae say that.” Her bunched shoulders loosen a little, the hard glare on her face turning less severe. “He... just wants to know if you're alright?”

Six pairs of eyes –

Dust ruffles his feathers from the top of Eideard's head-dress

- Seven pairs of eyes peer down at you expectantly, causing a flash of heat to creep up your neck unwarranted.

'Shit,' you think, 'Are they really that worried? I must've been more banged up than I thought after Karkinos...'

It doesn't make sense to you. You knew there was some level of concern but this is...

You don't know what to do with this.

Answering the lingering question seems like a good place to start though.

Linking your hands, you scuff at the ground with the toe of your boot and shrug, peeking up at Valus from beneath your lashes. “I'm okay, guys. Really. Karn kept me safe.”

All at once, Alya's expression sours and there's a skeptical growl from Thane's corner.

On the youngling's behalf, you grimace, sheepishly raising your head to meet his glum stare.

“I'm sorry for getting you in trouble, Karn,” you whisper to him and reach out to give his boot a consoling pat.

The maker blinks down at you, utterly dumbfounded by your apology. He's grown so used to things being his fault – and being told they're his fault – that seeing somebody take the blame for him feels like an oddly pleasant slap to the face. Technically, this time, he is at fault. You never would have been able to leave the village and follow Death were it not for his interference. However, even if the other makers hold Karn accountable, you don't seem to.

Suddenly, he finds he doesn't much care if the others are angry with him.

You - his first, best and only friend – are not.

After several seconds of staring dumbly down at you, a lopsided grin worms its way onto the youngling's face.

“Karn can take care of himself,” Eideard interrupts, “He may be a little foolhardy, but he is undoubtedly a strong and skilled adventurer. And he is aware of the many dangers that lurk in our realm. He should have known better.”

“He... he did know better...” you murmur, ducking your head and wishing you'd worn something with a higher collar that you could hide behind, “I was the one who kept pushing until he agreed to take me.”

The Old One sighs, sending you a gentle frown. “I had hoped that you were at least sensible enough to know you were – and in fact, still are – in need of recuperation.”

You watch the maker's bushy eyebrows furrow, drawing the wrinkles on his forehead down to form crevasses in his ancient skin. He's staring you down, and though you try to meet his gaze, you find it easier to cave in first and avert your eyes, dropping them to his boots instead.

After a moment, you hear the maker's chest heave with a slow exhale.

“I am not angry with you, lass,” he says softly, “None of us are.”

Snorting, you raise your head to glance pointedly over at where Thane is aggressively drumming his fingertips on top of the stone wall and muttering a string of words too low for you to pick up, though you have a sneaking suspicion they aren't very polite.

Eideard follows your gaze and a smile crinkles the corners of his eyes when he sees who you're looking at. “We all worry in our own way. Some of us worry louder than others.” He nods towards the warrior. “While some worry quietly.” This time, his focus shifts onto Valus.

At once, Alya barks out a laugh. “Ha! Quiet?” She pauses to roughly elbow her brother in the arm before carrying on. “When he realised you left the village, all he did was pace up and down the forge, moanin'!”

Valus twists his helm and grunts something accusing, in response to which she merely offers a shrug. “Well, s'true.”

“If I recall correctly, Alya,” the Shaman says from her spot beside the cooling trough, “you were particularly vocal as well.”

Vocal was an understatement. The Forge sister hadn't stopped huffing and growling about what she planned to do to Karn if he didn't return you to Tri Stone in one piece. The boisterous young maker shoots Muria a scathing look, tipping her ears down in displeasure.

There's a sudden tightness in your throat and you swallow past the lump, fingers twisting into the fabric of your jumper. “I... I didn't realise,” you murmur, more to yourself than the giants around you.

Thane pipes up anyway.

“Didn't realise what?” he grunts, “That you about scared the life out of us when you up n' disappeared?”

Wincing, you drop your gaze to the floor. “I didn't realise that you... Well, it just seems like you all care. About... about me.”

There's a long spell of silence in which all the makers share wide eyed glances with one another, save for Muria, who tilts her head to the side, listening attentively to the shifting room.

Then, slowly, Alya's lips split into a grin, a grin that soon turns into a loud chuckle. With a hard blink, you stare up at her, confusion evident in the way your brows creep together. Even Valus seems to share his sister's sudden mirth and his shoulders begin to heave up and down with silent laughter. Behind you, Thane’s head turns slightly to peer down at you over his shoulder pauldron, something fond tugging at his lips.

Eideard however, remains perfectly unaffected whilst he watches you carefully, examining the bewilderment on your face.

His old heart hums in displeasure. Do you really think so little of yourself that you can't even fathom how others might care about you?

Swiping a few fingers underneath her eyes, Alya's giggle finally tapers off and she exclaims, “Well of course we care, you daft girl!”

“But...” You pause, scrunching up your nose as you try to understand why. “But I'm not even a maker?”

“Well... Do you care about Karn?” Eideard suddenly interjects.

The answer comes to you immediately when you flick your gaze up and meet the youngling's wide, curious eyes. He looks as though he fully expects that you might say 'no.'

“Yes. Yes of course I do.” Shyly, you glance down again. “I care about all of you guys.”

“Why?” Eideard lowers his head to try and coax you into looking at him. “We are not humans.”

“Well, yeah, but -” Perplexed, you fumble for words, eventually settling on, “-but that doesn't matter!”

The point he's trying to make finally hits home and you promptly snap your mouth shut. The Old One's aged grin widens when he recognises the wave of realisation that crashes over your face.

You miss the secretive glance he shares with the others.

“Come. Walk with me,” he offers gently and turns, his robes sweeping along on the ground behind him as he trails down the steps and makes his way towards the doors leading out onto Tri Stone's lower courtyard.

Dust gives an offended squawk and flutters off Eideard’s helm, swooping down to the wall and tossing the maker’s back a dirty look, irate that his perch had begun to move.

After a moment of hesitation, still reeling at the knowledge that you are worlds away from home yet there are still those who care, you trot along behind the village elder.

------

The cool night air laps at your skin once you step outside again, prompting your hands to retreat inside the sleeves of your jumper as you follow the old maker through his village with your eyes transfixed on the gently swinging braid that hangs halfway down his back. In the pale moonlight, you could imagine his hair had been spun from solid silver.

Chewing your lip, you ponder over the things that had been said inside the Forge. Perhaps it had been wrong of you to assume that humans were the only species who could know compassion. Is it really so strange that the makers care about your wellbeing? After all, you do care about theirs. Just as you care about Death’s - enough to follow him into dangerous temples, at least. Or just as you care about whether or not Blackroot gets his stone bites - ‘Ah!’ You almost smack yourself on the forehead for nearly forgetting. ‘Blackroot!’

“Um, Eideard?” you call out, kneading at your jumper, “Can I ask you something?”

Without breaking his stride, the Old one twists his head around and you catch the gleam of his tusks as he softly replies, “Anything.”

“Do you know someone called Blackroot?”

“Blackroot,” he breathes, his grey eyes going wide and misty, “Ah, now there's a name I haven't heard in a long time.” Turning to face forwards again, his steps suddenly falter, as though he's just realised you have no way of knowing that name. Perhaps Karn had... Hmm.

“I know him, yes. He was an old and dear friend of mine.” Eideard looks down at you as you jog to fall in line beside him. “But... How do you know of him?”

“Because we met him. In the Fjord,” you explain.

This time, the maker does stop and his breath hitches. “He's alive?”

Nodding, you feel a flutter of hope ignite in your belly for the construct. “Yeah! Yeah, but he's stuck. I think his roots go down too far. And he said he's gonna starve soon! Death and I gave him some stone bites to tide him over, but...”

“You fed him!” Eideard laughs breathlessly, riding the elation at hearing the news of his friend, “Of course you did, you compassionate little thing!”

Covering a cheek with one hand, you scoff away his praise, asking, “So.... can you help him?”

“I – yes, yes, of course! I shall need -” Pausing, the maker inhales long and deep, regaining some composure. He'd allowed himself to get a little too excitable. But good news is rare and hard to come by in the Forge Lands of late. “I shall need to speak with Muria. His roots, you say? Hm. She may have something that will preserve him if a severance causes any damage...” He trails off and places a hand underneath his chin, deep in thought.

Once again, Eideard begins to walk while in the meantime, you're content to let him ponder and so you keep your lips pressed respectfully together until the giant's footsteps come a halt. Automatically, you stop as well, peering up at him and finding one of his hands has begun a slow descent towards you. You remain stock still, gulping as you watch the appendage loom closer and closer until the pad of a single, warm fingertip lands on your shoulder, pressing down with the barest amount of pressure.

He's smiling at you, the lines around his eyes as deep as his voice when he breathes, “Thank you, Y/n.” Before you can reply, he pulls away and sets off again. After a beat, you grin, feeling a weight lift off your chest before you follow.

The world around you is peaceful and silent once more save for the soft thumps of his boots hitting the stone pathway and the clinking, clanks of his staff as it strikes the ground ahead of his footfalls. He leads you to the fallen tree that had first brought you into Tri Stone and strides through it without a word.

Stone gives way to soft, bouncy grass when you emerge out into the tunnel on the other side, the path ahead lit by dozens of lunar thrips and the scattering of moonbeams that slip through cracks in the jagged ceiling and fall upon Eideard's shoulders, casting him in dappled light as he passes underneath them. It isn't until you amble by the place Muria had brought you to bathe that curiosity finally compels you to break the shroud of silence that presses upon the back of your mind like a persistent presence. “Um, where are we going?”

Twisting his head around, Eideard peers at you over his shoulder, head dress glinting as he strolls under another stray flash of moonlight. “Patience, youngling. You'll find out soon enough,” he replies, as though he'd been expecting that very question.

“Thought you said I could ask you anything,” you smirk.

The maker’s eyes glint with mischief and the smirk he returns is an almost perfect reflection of your own. Deliberately so, you’d wager. “Ah. But I did not say I would answer anything.”

You stare up at him for a moment, jaw hanging slack. Following a disbelieving little huff, you lower your gaze to the grass underfoot and press on.

It isn't long before the two of you traipse out into the glade where you'd first awoken to the sight of an old giant's bearded face smiling warmly down at you.

“It's so weird,” you mutter, idly watching the lunar thrips as they whizz around the clearing, their tiny lights leaving streaks of orange and gold across your vision for a few moments before fading to darkness.

Up ahead, Eideard hums questioningly, stopping beside a short, rocky slope and then hefting his bulky weight around to face you.

Tearing your gaze off the bugs that remind you so bitterly of fireflies, you trundle over to the maker and rub at the edges of your eyes, shrugging. “It just feels like I've been here a lot longer than I actually have, you know? I can hardly believe it's only been... what? A few days since Earth was -” Your jaw snaps shut and you grimace, lips twisting at their corners. 'A few days? Is that really all it's been?'

An enormous hand suddenly appears before you, a quiet offer from the village elder and you accept it with nary a second's hesitation, though a tiny part of your psyche wonders if you ought to reflect on how far you've come since you were cowering away from the makers. If you had been told a week ago what you were going to accomplish in the coming days, you'd likely laugh as though you'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.

Now, your hand rests delicately on Eideard's wrinkled thumb and you step into his equally calloused palm, sinking to your knees without ever once worrying how much larger and stronger he is as he raises you to the top of the slope and settles his hand down there, patiently waiting for you to disembark. Throwing him a bemused glance, you wordlessly slide off his palm and the Old one steps back, lifting an arm to gesture over the edge of the plateau you're now standing on.

“Tell me, youngling, what do you see?” he asks.

Raising a brow, you follow the line of his index finger and look out towards the inky horizon.

Far below you, glistening silver beneath the light of the moon, sits a vast, serene lake. Your ears abruptly pick up on the distant thundering of waterfalls that tumble down into it from the precipice of a nearby mountain. There's a sharp, refreshing sweetness carried up to you on the wind that conjures faint memories of Christmas trees and pine needles and suddenly, your lungs are swimming in the smell of December as you inhale deeply through your nose, holding all the air in your lungs until you have to expel it in a rush.

All the while, Eideard remains perfectly still at your back, content to let you have a few moments to just breathe.

“I see a lake,” you finally answer.

A gust of warm air glides across the back of your neck. Even from your vantage point, the maker's head is still at the same level as you. “What else?” he coaxes.

There isn't anything obvious, at least not until you cast your gaze further to the left and as your eyes adjust, you manage to pick out several shapes in the dark that sit on the lakeshore, at least a mile's walk from the glade. They're enormous, whatever they are, set individually from one another yet still close enough that they're obviously part of the same feature. Some are square, some are oblong, set like pitch-black monoliths against the dark mountain behind them. Silhouettes of what appear to be -

“Houses?” Turning about to face Eideard, you find the bristles of his moustache have been pushed up by a kindly smile. He nods his head and you turn back to face the shapes below once more.

“Our homes,” the maker elaborates, “Where we used to reside. We lost them eons ago, to Corruption.”

“There are quite a few of them,” you mention.

Behind you, Eideard releases a plaintive sigh. “Once, there were quite a few of us.”

Grimacing, you try to apologise for dragging up the clearly tender memory, but the Old one simply waves your words away and continues, “Before you arrived, we never thought we'd get to see our homes again. But now, you and the Horseman have done what the rest of us failed to do. The Fire and Tears flow through our Forge once again, the Warden has been reawakened-” He pauses for a while, long enough that you throw a quizzical look over your shoulder at him. Once he catches your eye, Eideard leans forwards and fixes you with an earnest stare. “-You are bringing our realm back to life.”

“Death did all the work,” you argue, instantly knowing that the old maker disapproves of your claim by the way his eyes slip shut and he shakes his head, a low gush of air blowing from his nose.

“Stop that,” he scolds you gently, “Stop doubting the impact you have on our realm. On us. Since you arrived, I've never seen Karn happier. Muria's garden is in full bloom, I've discovered an old friend still lives, and for the first time in so long, my people have hope that they will see their old homes again.” The maker's frown lifts a fraction and the corner of his eyes crinkle like plummetless chasms as he smiles, nodding towards the collection of shadowy silhouettes down on the lakeside. “Karn, I know, is especially keen. There's a house next to his own that he's been dying to show you.”

“Why? What's in there?” Curious you stand on your toes and peer over the ledge, trying to pick out the individual huts.

“As of yet, nothing more than an empty home in need of filling.”

At your back, the maker listens to the noncommittal hum you give him in response. Then, after his words have had some time to sink in, you grow still and quiet, your back rigid. The only movement comes from the hair on your head that waves in the nightly breeze.

He can almost feel the uncertainty pressing down upon your shoulders. You've drawn some conclusion from his subtle prompting, that much is clear, but you aren't sure. Not entirely, not enough to react just yet.

Perhaps you require a more direct nudge. “Y/n.” He prepares himself to reach out and steady you because you've begun to sway a little on your feet. “We – that is, the other makers and I - have discussed it at length and we were hoping that you would be the one to fill it some day.”

“What?” you choke, at last shuffling about to fix him with wide, glistening eyes, “Eideard, what are you saying?”

“We makers know how it feels to lose a world,” he presses on, soft and slow, “And we would never wish the same on any friend of ours.”

Your lips press firmly together because you don't trust yourself to remain composed when you fully realise just what it is he's offering.

Eideard's tufted, white brows ease together until he looks as sincere as you've ever seen him. “You do not have to accept,” he continues, “You do not even have to entertain the notion. All I am telling you, is that wherever you choose to go from here, there will always be a home waiting for you with us, should you want it.”

The dam around your tear-ducts starts to crumble and you part your lips to draw in a rasping breath as words try to form on your tongue but none of them strike you as particularly adequate. It's too much, the enormity of suddenly being given the chance to belong somewhere again. So, in lieu of words, you do the only thing that feels right.

Using the back of a wrist to scrub at your eyes, you drop down onto your backside and shuffle forward, sliding feet-first down the rocky slope and pushing off once you reach the ground, staggering straight at the maker. As soon as he sees you move, Eideard bends himself down onto one knee, wincing at the resulting crack of his bones. His arms swing open like a warm invitation and you should find it strange that a maker can anticipate a human's course of action without too much thought.

Before your knees can buckle underneath you, you fall against his leg, wrapping your arms around as much of him as you can and immediately find your back enveloped by a pair of strong yet ancient hands.

The fur trim around his sleeves tickles at your neck as you bury your face into his robes and part of you feels you ought to be ashamed of how sodden the fabric becomes in those first few seconds but then the Old One is rubbing soothing circles into your spine with his thumb and suddenly, your tears don't matter.

“My apologies,” Eideard rumbles above you, “I did not mean to cause you such distress.”

Stifling a sob, you shake your head against his robes, sinking into the comfort and security provided by having the giant at your back. “You didn't.... I mean, I'm not distressed. I'm just...” Your mouth opens and falls shut a few times as you attempt to come up with something to fill the blank.

What are you? What does his offering you a home when you have none mean?

Another, wet sob leaves your throat before you can muffle the sound against him. “I just can't... believe you would offer something like that... to me.”

“And why wouldn't I?” he asks, unfurling his hands a little so you can lean back and look up at him through bleary eyes, “You have been a friend to my people, and we take care of our friends - what seldom few we have.”

Despite willing yourself to remain composed, his words strike at an already tender wound in your heart and your face crumples, so you shove it back into the robes draped over his bent knee and grit your teeth, frustrated that you're letting him see you cry again.

For some time, Eideard remains crouched in the same position, his fingertips resting against you in such a way that you aren't left feeling trapped by his hold. The touch is light yet secure, and you know you could step away whenever you want. For the time being however, you choose to stay.

With that same, unshakable patience, the maker is content to wait for as long as you need him to.

Soon enough, your shoulders stop heaving and the tears making tracks down your face run dry at last. Peeling your forehead off Eideard's knee, you release a rough exhale and swipe at the moisture clinging stubbornly to your lashes.

“Ugh. Sorry for crying all over you,” you sniff, flashing the maker a wobbly smile, “Seems I'm doing a lot of that nowadays. Crying, I mean.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He stops to take a long breath, scrutinising the newfound puffiness of your eyelids with a curious, if not concerned tilt of his brows. “If I may speak plainly, it is a relief to see.”

“A... Wait, what?” Your smile falls and you ask, “Seeing me cry is a relief?”

The Old One moves a hand away from you and lays it on his beard, thoughtfully thumbing the jewelled band that holds his braid in place. “It is a relief to see you cry, youngling, because it means that despite the terrible things you've been put through, you haven't lost your heart.”

Swallowing back a lump, you look down at your chest, fingers slowly unfurling to splay out above the delicate organ that lays tucked beneath your ribcage as if to check that it really is still there.

Above your head, Eideard's smile turns tender. “You humans,” he chuckles, shaking his head in wonder, “You feel things so magnificently. You're a complex little species. The extent of your emotional expression is... it's.... ” He trails off and his hand waves in the air as if trying to pluck out the right words and you notice his voice is almost breathless, awed by an aspect of humanity you've never really taken into consideration before, and you have to briefly wonder how in the world a being as majestic as him could possibly be in awe of a species that only lives a century at best. To you, it hardly makes sense, but you're so busy frowning contemplatively at your own chest, you don't see the way he's marvelling at you. “Well,” he eventually puts, “At the very least, it is astounding.”

A shift in the air draws your head up and you tilt it back, stepping away to give Eideard some more room as he braces a wrinkled hand on his knee and pushes himself upright, a strained grunt brushing past his lips. The leg you'd been crying into gives an abrupt crack that has you pulling a face in sympathy.

Once again, you find yourself cloaked in a shadow that stretches along the ground when Eideard's broad shoulders eclipse the moon. “Are you ready to return to the Forge?” he asks, smoothing down his rumpled clothes, “I imagine the others will be wondering where we are by now.”

Seconds pass and he doesn't make a move, merely regards you expectantly and it suddenly hits you that he's waiting for you to either confirm or deny that you're ready to go back to the others. He doesn't say it with words, but the Old One's knowing gaze speaks volumes. If you aren't ready, if you haven't adequately collected yourself together, he'll wait.

At the sight of your ensuing, grateful smile – one that pushes one last tear from the corner of your eye – Eideard's chest swells with pride, like a father watching his child pick themselves up, dust themselves off and carry on.

With a last, lingering glance back at the rocky slope behind you, you give your head a decisive nod and say, “Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go.”

----------

Several heads swivel towards the Forge's entrance when Eideard pushes it open with a resounding clang and you step through ahead of him, your spirits considerably higher than they were before. Fatigue drags you down by the ankles but you manage to trundle all the way up to the anvil, where Alya is the first to greet you. The young maker doesn't ask for permission, she simply bends down and sweeps your legs out from underneath you, pulling you up until you're level with her beaming face.

“Well?” she demands, “Did he tell you? What do you think? I thought it was a grand idea!”

Yes, he told me, Alya,” you laugh, giving her thumb a reassuring pat and casting your eyes over the other makers surrounding you, “Not sure what I did to deserve that kind of offer, but... Well, you have no idea what it means to me. So, thank you. All of you. Alya's right, it really was a grand idea.”

“Well, of course it was!” the maker exclaims, “Thought of it meself, you know.”

“Really? It was your idea?” you chirp.

At once, her mouth snaps shut and she balances you on one hand, sliding the other out from under you to scratch at the back of her neck. “Er... Well, I mean, I thought of it first!”

Behind her, Thane harrumphs and flicks his thumb over at Valus.

“Ach! Don't take credit for yer brother's idea, Lass. He's the one that suggested it.”

Alya turns with you still poised across one of her palms and you can't help but gape a little at her twin.

“Valus?” you ask, head tipped to one side.

The maker swiftly turns his head to the ground and shrugs his burly shoulders but he peers up at you through the slat in his visor, catching the heartfelt grin you're sending his way. Suddenly, it grows very warm inside his helmet.

“You stayin' here is gonna be so much fun!” Alya announces, all but dumping you on the anvil to save you from being jostled as she begins to gesticulate wildly with her hands. “I've always wanted an apprentice! With me teachin' you, you could become the first human blacksmith!”

“I believe humans mastered blacksmithing some time ago,” Muria says gently.

“Oh...” For a moment, it looks as though Alya's exuberance has been well and truly doused. However, she doesn't stay deflated for long and hardly a second passes before she's bouncing back up again. “Buuut ~ none of them had a maker tutorin' 'em, eh?” She turns to beam at you. “So you won't be the first human blacksmith, but you'll sure as Stone be the best!”

You don't really feel the need to point out how that won't be hard, given that you're likely the only human left who could hold such a title. Her eyes are alight with enthusiasm and you can practically hear a vast whirlwind of ideas scurrying around in her brain already. Far be it from you to take the wind out of her sails.

Pursing your lips to hold in a laugh, you adopt a thoughtful expression and nod agreeably, causing Alya's chest to puff out even further.

“Now, hang on just a tick.” There's a scraping of metal to your side as Thane shifts forward and thumps his axe's handle against the ground to gather the room's attention. “How'd you know the wee lassie wants to be a smith?”

It's easy to tell that his question instantly puts Alya's back up, for she whips her head around and shoots him a challenging glare, her lips parting in such a way, you can't tell if she's smiling or snarling. “Course she wants to be a smith!” Her glare softens as she looks down at you and confidently adds, “Don't you, Y/n?”

You'd been in the process of plonking yourself down on the anvil but her question gives you pause. “Uh-”

“Ha!” Luckily, you're saved by Thane's booming laughter as he slaps a meaty palm against his knee hard enough to rival a thunderclap. “The human kills Karkinos, and you don't think she'd make a better warrior?!”

Raising your voice, you try to interject. “Technically, Death was the one who-”

“Oh! And who's goin' to teach her how to be a warrior? You, old man?”

“Maybe she wants to be an explorer,” Karn bravely suggests.

Naturally, there's an uproarious response.

From the wall of the forge, Eideard's face is bright with peace as he casts a watchful eye over his fellow makers... until he spots Muria standing quietly on the sidelines, her lips pressed thinly. Even without seeing her eyes, Eideard knows she's looking directly at him.

Humming to himself, the Old One collects his staff and begins to skirt around the arguing youngsters, his footfalls and clanking head-dress lost underneath their shouting match. He reaches Muria and greets her with a brush of his elbow against hers and with a subtle inclination of her head, she beckons him to turn his back on the Forge alongside her.

Releasing a curt breath, she delicately drapes her arms over the low wall whilst Eideard does the same, though he leans a little more heavily against the sturdy brick than she does, as though the burden on his shoulders is physically weighing him down.

“Something troubles you,” he muses under his breath, recognising that in turning away, she does not intend for the others to overhear. Not that they really could anyway, given the racket they're making. Alya and Thane have put aside their differences and teamed up to loudly convince you why being an explorer like Karn is sure to end in disaster.

“You should not let them influence her like this,” the Shaman murmurs, her blindfold creasing at the centre between where her brows would be, “She must decide for herself whether or not she wants to stay.”

“They aren't doing any harm...”

Muria turns to the Old One, jaw set. “You want them to sway her decision,” she accuses and her measured cadence rises enough that Eideard has to shush her.

They both glance over a shoulder to see if you've grown suspicious of their hushed whispers, but instead, they find you preoccupied with hiding your face, shoulders wracked by silent laughter as Alya bunts her chest up against Thane's in challenge. Both of the fiery makers have a similar spark in their eyes and cocksure grins, showing one another their teeth.

The sight pulls at Eideard's lips and he heaves a great sigh, fingers drumming on top of the wall for a moment. He'd told you the truth earlier. He hasn't seen his fellow makers this happy for quite some time. Having a human around has been as welcome a distraction to them as they likely are to you. Your fresh and otherworldly presence is... refreshing, especially given how dreary life in their realm has become lately.

The Old One looks back at Muria then, a worry-line growing between his eyebrows. “I only want the girl to be safe. I couldn't bear yet another death on my conscience.”

“Still blaming yourself? Oh, Eideard,” she tuts, though her tone is fond, “Sometimes I think your heart must be larger than your brain.”

“Sometimes? You tell me so at least twice a day.”

The Shaman chuckles at his rare show of playfulness but the pleasant laugh soon turns into a weary hum and she hesitates, tongue flicking over her teeth as she considers her next words. “Eideard... What happened to the others.... There was nothing you could have done differently that would have saved them.” At her side, the village elder half closes his eyes, gazing off at a distant memory as Muria continues, “Since then, you have worked tirelessly to protect us. But, you of all makers know that you cannot keep everyone safe.”

She knows him so well. It has never been spoken to the open air, but all who know Eideard know he bears the weight of guilt upon his shoulders more heavily than most. He's their leader. If he can't protect his own people, then what good is he?

“I can understand why you want her to stay,” the shaman utters, “but do not try to alter her course. However indirectly.” She makes a subtle motion behind her, to the others. “Whatever she may decide, we must trust the human to follow her own destiny. And we must trust Death to be her shield if she travels beyond this realm.”

'Trust,' Eideard thinks, is a funny word to associate with one of the Charred Council's enforcers, but then, in the recent days, he has caught split-second glimpses of the heart that lays twisted up inside the Horseman's ribcage. Cold and motionless though it may be, it's still there. And if a creature so ruthless as the eldest Nephilim – whose sins outweigh most others’ in the Universe – can have a heart, then truly anything is possible.

Even something as absurd as a human surviving impossible odds.

But, the shaman is right, of course. Eideard had barely even noticed that ever since you arrived, he's been trying to guide you down a safer path, without considering that you are your own person, capable of making your own decisions. Just now, he'd been happy to sit back and watch as his fellow makers tried to decide for you what you should do with your life.

Freedom or safety. He wonders if humans ever had to deal with such conundrums.

Slowly, he releases a long exhale and bows his head so low that his helm slips a few inches and the prongs sweeping up from the top of it lay parallel with the floor. “And here I thought I was always the voice of reason.”

“I thought it was about time somebody else started speaking sense.”

“I have always maintained,” he says with a small smile, “that you, Muria, will make a fine leader after I'm gone.”

The shaman finally turns from the wall and rests a hand on her hip. “Not that I wish that day to arrive any time soon, but given the options are myself and Thane, I daresay you're right.”

They share a quick huff of laughter before Eideard dissolves into a few, rasping coughs. He thumps his chest and shoos Muria's hand away when he senses it hovering towards his shoulder. “I'm all right,” he assures her, clearing his throat and straightening up, “I'm all right.” Once she steps back, he pushes himself away from the wall and pivots around to face the Forge alongside her.

A lot appears to have happened since their backs were turned.

Karn has apparently been bullied into sulking beside the south staircase. Frequently, he casts you glances, wearing his jealousy in a tight-lipped pout, and all because your attention has been commandeered by Thane and Alya.

The former of the two has his gigantic hand wrapped around Alya's in a crushing grip, both of their elbows balanced on the anvil whilst you sit precariously close to its edge, looking between them with uncertain amusement that pulls your brows together but your lips apart.

“Thane, Alya?”

They flinch at the sound of their names and look over towards Eideard.

“What are you doing?” the elder asks with practiced patience and authority.

The makers poised above you exchange a glance and you pipe up in their stead. “Arm wrestling!” Hopping up to your feet, you point excitedly at the pair of interlocked arms. “Humans used to do this all the time on Earth!”

Eideard watches you bounce in place on the balls of your feet. It must be a comfort, he realises, to you to see something you recognise from your own species in the makers.

Alya, whose brow glistens with beads of sweat, blows a lock of hair off her face and grunts. “I'm showin' her how much... stronger.... smiths need to be... than warriors!”

Across from her, Thane's biceps bulge and quiver like tightly coiled springs, yet he hasn't broken out into sweat and looks altogether far more relaxed than the youngling. Rolling his eyes, he grins at her teasingly and says, “Think all you're doin' is showin' the wee lassie why she'd want to be a warrior. If she's lookin' to get stronger, that's where she needs to train.”

“S'not just about strength!” Alya rasps, her face rapidly turning the same colour as her hair, “Smithin' build endurance too!”

Valus grumbles something loudly from behind you and Alya starts to sputter, her eyes narrowing as they flick over to glare at her brother. “Wha-! I am not showin' off,” she hisses at him from the corner of her mouth. He merely grunts again and crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed.

“What kind of a brother are you, anyway!? You should be cheerin' me on!”

“All right, that's quite enough.” Eideard steps forward and thunks the end of his staff on the ground. “I'm sure Y/n doesn't care for such antics.”

“Well, actually,” you reply as the warring makers shove themselves off the anvil and shoot one another identical sneers, “Two burly makers fighting over me? I wasn't even this popular at school.”

Alya practically glows after you call her burly and she thrusts her nose in the air, beaming whilst Thane merely barks a quick laugh and reaches over to you, using the tip of his forefinger to ruffle up your hair. You bat his hand away and smooth your tousled locks down into place once again.

Before long, the atmosphere lapses into something a little less competitive as the makers begin drifting over to their own corners of the forge and fall into warm conversation with one another, their voices low and oozing contentment. In the meantime, you laze upon the anvil, picking up the odd fragment of sentences here and there whilst your eyes grow heavier and heavier with every passing minute.

Eideard had accosted Karn before the youngling could hog all of your attention and now they stand side by side, leant back against the wall and talking in hushed tones. Alya sits below the enormous fireplace, tinkering away with a set of gauntlets whilst her brother hovers close by, watching her work. Every now and then, she pauses what she's doing and speaks to him, after which he replies with either a grunt, a hum or a simple shrug of his immense shoulders. To you, he's utterly unreadable, but Alya seems to have no trouble interpreting the vague sounds filtering out of that helm. 'Must be a twin thing,' you shrug mentally.

Behind you, Muria and Thane have occupied the empty space by the south wall and he's telling her how impressive her garden has grown since the Tears flowed back into Tri Stone.

Inhaling a deep breath through your nose, you let it out again in a sigh. There's an air of happy domesticity hanging over the forge that etches a wistful smile on your face.

The reminder is bittersweet – of the times like this you'd spent back home, in a room full of friends, all laughing, talking nonsense at one another, evenings that had seemed so throwaway but now leave a dull ache in your chest at their memory.

A silent wish passes through your mind, a wish to go back to those kinder, easier days when you thought you knew how hard life could be – when you didn't know how much harder it could get. You used to wonder why people preferred to remain blissfully ignorant of things happening all around them. Now, you can't help but think they had the right idea, at least partly.

You let your eyes slip closed for several minutes and simply listen to the hum of conversation around you. If you concentrate, you can almost imagine that you're surrounded by humans, like you. You're sitting in a restaurant, or perhaps a cozy cafe, and you're waiting to meet an old friend you haven't seen in a long, long time....

But then, inevitably, your eyes open again and the illusion is shattered. Suddenly, you don't want to start thinking about home.

Unnoticed by the group of makers, you carefully lower yourself off the anvil and meander down the steps and over towards where Death sits quietly on his bench.

The Horseman doesn't acknowledge your approach at first, but after you hover there for a moment, twiddling your thumbs, his pale mask tips in your direction and one of his eyes cracks open, spilling out an eerie, golden glow. “Can I help you?” he grumbles, causing you to jump.

“Mind if I sit down?” You gesture to the opposite side of the stone bench.

For just a second, Death's glower falters. In the dim light of a wall sconce, he notices that the whites of your eyes are tinged with just a suggestion of red. Wordlessly, he jerks his head towards the empty spot and you waste no time in hauling yourself up alongside him.

The bench is too wide, having been crafted with makers in mind, so when you swing your legs out, only your ankles dangle over the ledge. Still, it isn't uncomfortable, and with a shrug, you lean your shoulders back against the wall behind you, feeling heat rise from the lava reservoir that boils far below, warming the stone underneath you.

The moment you get settled, a sharp caw signals the arrival of Dust. He swoops out of the gloom and lands gracefully on your thigh, his talons clamping down to keep himself steady.

“Hey, boy,” you greet him and reach out to run your nails down his sleek, feathery back, earning yourself an appreciative gurgle. The crow sidesteps a little closer to your hip before he sinks down onto his belly, the feathers around his neck puffing up in contentment.

The Horseman shoots him a withering look but Dust returns it by letting out a lazy croon and promptly tucking his head beneath a wing, the very picture of a smug bird. Death’s brows snap together in response.

The makers' idle chatter dulls into the background as time drags on and your mind grows thick with fatigue. From the corner of his eye, Death regards you quietly, glad that you're apparently too preoccupied with staving off sleep to notice you've gained his attention. Slowly, the Horseman's gaze starts drifting down to your injured side. He doesn't realise he's curled his hand into a fist until there's a sudden, stinging sensation and he blinks, glancing down to find that one of his sharp fingernails has pierced the skin of his palm.

Quick as a flash, Death jerks his arms up and folds them tightly across his chest. 'That was... unexpected.'

“So,” he utters, loud enough to rouse you from the slumber you've slipped halfway into, “The makers offered you a place to stay.”

Your eyelids flutter and you draw in a deep inhale through your nose. “Hmm? Mmhmm. They did.”

“Do you think you-...” Death grits his teeth and viciously reminds himself that curiosity drives his question. Nothing more. Following your lead, he leans his head back against the wall and gazes nonchalantly up towards the ceiling, being sure to inject a degree of boredom into his tone when he asks, “Do you think you'll remain here, in the Forge Lands?”

“Why?” Rolling your head around to peer across the bench at him, you throw the Horseman what you mean to be a playful smirk, blissfully unaware that what you end up with is more of a dopey, heavy-lidded grin. “You worried I'd rather stay with them than go with you?”

The Horseman's eyes narrow to deadly slits and let lets out a venomous snort. For several seconds, you manage to hold your tongue, gauging the level of your courage. Then, pursing your lips, you bravely say, “That wasn't a 'no.”

“I'd have thought the absurdity of such a statement would speak for itself,” he snaps.

You try to toss him a grin but it breaks when your jaws part into a wide yawn.

Beside you, Death stews in his seat. 'Does she really think-' he seethes, '- Does she really believe, that I would give a second thought as to whether she stays here or-?”

Something soft slumps against his arm and breaks his private rant. Snatching his head to the side, he's about to give an involuntary jerk but catches himself just in time when he sees what’s pulled him from his musings.

It appears you've fallen asleep sitting up, right there on the bench next to Death, the day's events having caught up to you at long last. Your head lolls sideways and it bumps noiselessly against the Horseman's shoulder. A soft, warm cheek presses against his skin and he feels each of your breaths as they slip between your parted lips.

Dust, although upskittled at first, soon resettles himself and shoves his head back underneath a wing, but not before he fixes Death with a critical eye, as if daring the Nephilim to disturb his comfortable perch.

There is a moment where the Horseman considers pushing you upright again – especially when he glances up and spots Alya bent over the upper wall looking his way, her chin propped on a hand and a smirk stretching from ear to pointed ear.

He sneers at her before remembering she can't see it beneath his mask, so he settles for an exaggerated roll of his eyes instead.

But, he doesn't push you off his shoulder.

Frankly, he can't be bothered to deal with any of the makers reprimanding him for depriving a human of her sleep.

Just then, you mumble something incoherent and the Horseman's lips give a reluctant twitch. To think, just a few, earthen days ago, you'd been a near-inconsolable wreck when you first saw him standing over you on the Crowfather's mountain. And now...

Death finally gives up fighting the ghost of a smile that haunts the edge of his mouth.

“Humans,” he sighs, settling back into one of the few moments of gentle peace that either of you are likely know on your journey.

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colormetheworld · 4 years

Text

"Come On”

I wrote 14 of 24 chapters of “24 Frames.” a series of one-shots based on the song by Jason Isbell. This is the first one- Vanish.

You wanna see if there’s a word you love in my WIPs? go ahead. Ask, and if it’s there, I’ll post the snippet.

Vanish (A 24 Frames One-Shot)

......

This is how you make yourself vanish into nothing

Maura finds her out on the porch. Jane hears her stop a couple feet away, unsure if her presence is wanted. She does this often. She finds Jane wherever she’s wandered off to and then hovers on the periphery, waiting for some kind of invitation. Usually, Jane appreciates this, but today she wonders if Maura is hesitating because Jane is invisible. Maybe Maura can’t see her.

But then the doctor speaks, and the illusion is broken.

“That cake was made for you, Jane,” she says softly.

Jane sighs, leaning forward on the railing of the porch, and after a moment, Maura comes to lean with her.

“You did spectacularly today,” she continues.

Spectacular. Jane smiles, despite herself. “Thanks. It was a big win, huh?”

“The biggest,” Maura answers. “No one can take that from you.”

Jane makes a noise between a scoff and a snort. A noise her mother would reprimand her for. “Not even my baby brother?” She looks around at Maura and catches the tail end of her expression. “Sorry,” she says quickly. “Never mind.” She chastises herself internally. “Forget it, Maura,” she says. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t,” Maura shakes her head seriously. “Don’t do that. I know how it feels to be overlooked.” She waits a beat, but Jane can’t think of anything to say to that. “I, of all people, know how you’re feeling right now,” she repeats.

Jane nods. She doesn’t apologize. The moment calls for something else. “When I was eight, my little league team went all the way to States,” she says. “Ma and Pop said that if I raised half the fee, we could go.”

Maura remains silent, but she shifts closer to Jane, and it is clear from her expression that she’s listening intently.

“It was 650. A ton to an eight-year-old, you know?”

Maura nods. “How long did you have?”

“Ten weeks.” Jane chuckles. “I was like a kid possessed. I would have skipped the end of school if they’d let me. I returned bottles, I did odd jobs. I even illegally put money down on horses.” Jane grins at Maura’s alarm. “Relax. I found out a long time later that the guy took pity on me. Told me I doubled my fifty bucks and paid me out of his own pocket. He was a family friend and he knew how bad I wanted to go. Manages that Bodega around the corner to this day.”

“How chivalrous,” Maura says lightly.

“Yeah. Anyway…I make the money. By hook or by crook,” Jane continues, and as she recounts the tale, it’s like she can feel the mason jar of odd bills and coins, heavy in her hands. “I’m over the moon, you know? I’m ecstatic. Baseball is my entire life at that point, and all I can think is how cool it’s going to be to wear that shiny new uniform and play on a real, official field, with television cameras.” She laughs at herself, at the feeling of weak anticipation she gets, even now. “Local station, of course, but back then, you couldn’t tell me anything.”

She starts when Maura puts her hand on her forearm, looking at her questioningly.

“Please don’t tell me that you didn’t get to go,” she says softly.

Jane shakes her head. “I got to go,” she says, and when Maura breathes a sigh of relief, Jane feels a rush of affection so strong, that the remainder of the story is wiped from her mind. Maura has to prompt her.

“What happened?” she asks after a bit of silence.

“Tommy got the Chicken Pox the night before we left, so everyone else stayed home. Frankie hadn’t had it yet, and Ma was worried that he would contract it too. So they all…”

Maura’s fingers tighten on Jane’s arm. “Oh, Jane,” she says, and the story gets a little more difficult to tell.

“We were runner up. I went 6 for 7 with a homer that took us to the finals,” Jane says curtly. “I’m with my teammate’s family, and they offer me time to call my family every night we’re away. They were so kind. Super proud of how we did…” She trails off, voice cracking a little.

“They missed them,” she says when she can recover. “All three games. They missed them all.”

Silence. The night is calm and mild. Jane has come out without a coat, and Maura is wearing only her sweater, but when they link hands, it is warm and reassuring. Nice.

Inside, the noise of celebration rises, Tommy’s voice above them all, and Jane knows that he’s had a couple too many. She knows that he will crash on his parent’s couch tonight and in the morning she will swing by and collect him. She knows that she will drive him – hungover and sour smelling – to the job they are all celebrating him for obtaining.

She knows that it will not last.

“At functions,” Maura begins, and she glances at Jane, asking permission. Jane nods. “At functions, I would often pretend that I was invisible.”

Jane swallows the smart retort that presents itselfx and just nods encouragingly.

“It was less painful that way. My mother would look to where I was standing, and I would smile at her, and she would seem to look right through me.” Maura looks down, pondering their hands, at the way their fingers have thread together. She bites her lip. “If I pretended that I was invisible, then her decision not to acknowledge me became a matter she had no say in. She could not smile at me, wave at me, beckon me over and introduce me, because I wasn’t there.”

Jane shakes her head, shoulders sagging, and Maura puts her free hand over their already linked ones. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you more.”

But Jane shakes her head more vigorously. “No,” she says. “You didn’t. Maura, you’re amazing. You know that now, right?” She looks up again, at her companion, and finds her smiling.

“You are too,” she says. “My sentiments exactly. You solved those murders. You saved that girl.”

“You helped,” Jane interjects, “a lot.”

Maura laughs, her expression breaking open like the parting of clouds after rain. Jane doesn’t want to ruin the moment, but she has to ask the question now or she’ll lose her nerve.

“Do you ever feel like that with me, Maura?”

Maura seems to have gotten lost in the bend of Jane’s neck. “hmm?” she looks up.

“Do I ever look through you?”

“No,” Maura says resolutely. “It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“You’ll tell me, right? If I do? Promise?”

Maura doesn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she says. “I promise.”

The noise of the party rises again, singing, Jane realizes. Her mother and her father, off key. For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow.

She imagines Frankie, tight smile, glancing towards the door every couple of minutes, waiting for her to return. They’d long ago discovered that while Jane could sneak out unnoticed, Angela usually came looking for Frankie if he disappeared. And so, faithful, kind, understanding to a fault, her middle brother had stopped following her, knowing that he simply intruded on her alone time, trailing their mother like an overbearing balloon.

“They do that because there is so little to celebrate surrounding him,” Maura says, voice nearly a whisper. “They grab at what they can. Even at the expense of their other children.”

Speaking of. “We should go back in,” Jane says, and they stand straight, dropping hands only when it appears to be necessary.

Maura steps towards the door first, and Jane is just thinking she should move to open it for her when it does so on its own.

No. Not on its own. Angela has pushed through it, and she steps out onto the porch, face flushed and happy. Her eyes sweep Jane, and then Maura standing a little in front, then the rest of the porch.

“Maura!” she says, breathless, “come inside and have some cake!” She waves her hand when Maura hesitates. “Come on!” she coaxes, as though the doctor was simply outside alone, missing the celebration.

“Certainly, Angela,” Maura says politely, starting forward.

Jane watches her mother’s eyes sweep the porch on more time, her hands reaching absently out to guide Maura inside. She clicks her tongue.

“And where on earth has Jane gotten to?”

#Vanish #jason isbell #24 Frames #R&I #Anon #words in WIPs

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antisocial-af · 3 years

Text

Day 9: Jangus

Title: Festive Liquor

25 Days of Pairings: Day 9 Jangus

Promo:

If you are interested in Rare Pairs, think about joining Shadowhunters Rare Pair Gift Exchange. I’ve already sent in my form! Sign-ups End on December 19th so don’t miss your chance and don’t be afraid to be as specific as you want on the forms!

Rating: T

Wordcount: 3217

No Major Archive Warnings

SFW, Holiday Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Human AU, Alcohol involved.

Summary:

Magnus needs help in recording a video.

Click Here to Read on Ao3

Story:

Magnus looked around his office and at the Holiday decorations he had put out around the table he used to record his videos. He checked the camera and tripod to ensure it was ready to press play once he was done setting up. Magnus made sure to have both the Holiday Liquor Sample Boxes out and on display for his video. He moved towards the small line of Christmas lights he had wrapped around the table edges to adjust them a bit before taking a step back to inspect them again. That only left one last thing, or should he say a person to add to make his video perfect now if he could only convince his boyfriend.

“Jace,” Magnus called out to the rest of the loft, sweetly and invitingly. “Could you come here for a moment, please?”

With the holidays fast approaching, Jace had found himself being at home rather than at work. Jace owned his own gym called Herondale Fitness, and during the holiday season, while they did run a New Year Sign-up, they were usually closed because of the whole city being snowed in. Today was just another one of those days.

“Well, aren’t you looking more handsome than the last time I saw you?” Magnus complimented Jace as he entered the room. Magnus moved forward and easily wrapped his arms around his boyfriends’ neck pulling him down for a kiss.

Jace gave a soft smirk upon receiving the compliment as he wrapped his arms around his smaller man’s waist. While he was frustrated at the fact he was stuck home and couldn’t run his business, these moments with Magnus made it all seem for the better. Jace would never complain about getting to spend time with his boyfriend.

“Oh, Magnus Bane using flattery? Do I detect someone in need of some assistance?” Jace teased while he stole another kiss from his boyfriend.

“Me? Magnus Bane, need something? I never realized it had become a crime to complement one’s lover?” Magnus feigned as he started to push Jace away from him softly. “See if I say something nice to you again, Herondale!”

“A severe crime,” Jace confirmed in between soft kisses to Magnus’ cheek. “Lucky for you, I am willing to let you off with a warning.”

“I’m fortunate to have such an understanding boyfriend then,” Magnus responded as he resisted the need to roll his eyes, returning Jace’s kisses. “Maybe so understanding..” Magnus trailed off, “that he might want to help me with a tiny project?”

Jace laughed and smiled at Magnus, knowing his boyfriend wanted something. He just hoped it wasn’t another one of those Ask Me Anything videos. Jace never wanted to know how creative Magnus’ subscribers could be. If it were, he would still do it regardless since he wanted to support Magnus’ growing YouTube channel.

“Depends? What exactly is it this time?”

“Oh, nothing,” Magnus smirked and waved his hand to the table set up behind him. “I found something alcoholic for us to try for my channel.”

“Oh, that isn't so bad,” Jace answered. He didn’t think that drinking with his boyfriend could be that hard, camera or not.

“I even bought us some Christmas outfits since they are holiday drinks,” Magnus continued, pulling away to walk over to the table and pull two costume bags from behind one of the chairs. “I got a Santa one and reindeer one. I will be the reindeer, and you can be Santa.”

“Shouldn’t you be wearing the Santa costume?” Jace asked as a smirk played on to his face. He stepped forward and looked at both costumes, not taking the Santa one yet.

“Why?”

“Well, Santa does ride the reindeer to deliver presents, doesn’t he?”

Magnus’ brain stopped for a second to understand what Jace was saying before he blushed, remembering their morning activities.

“Technically, Santa rides a sleight,” Magnus corrected him, trying to regain some of his composure.

“Details,” Jace dropped a wink. “Do you want me to wear a costume or not?”

“So I’m wearing the Santa costume, and you’re putting on the reindeer antlers and red nose?” Magnus conceded as he held up the reindeer costume for Jace instead.

“Gladly, baby.”

After a bit of a struggle on putting on the Santa costume’s belt since it had neither a clip nor velcro on it, Jace had to go find some safety pins so Magnus could pin it in place for the video. Once that mishap was settled, Magnus started to guide Jace behind the table and had him sit down so he could check the camera and make sure the shot was lined up. Jace was taller than him, and since Magnus didn’t always ask Jace to be in the videos, he had to adjust the camera to make sure Jace was still appropriately centered.

“So what are these anyway?” Jace asked as he grabbed the festive box that read ‘Holiday Taste Testers or Stocking Stuffers for Adults.’“None of these are like pumpkin spice, right? I tried it once on a dare with Izzy, and trust me. I like pumpkin spice but, somethings should just be left as is.”

“No, I think the weirdest one I read on there was a Gingerbread Spiced one,” Magnus answered as he pressed record on the video. He could edit out the beginning later. Once he was happy with the camera’s set up, he made his way back to the table to join his boyfriend.

“That doesn’t sound any better,” Jace grimaced. “Aren’t they still the same spices as Pumpkin Spice?”

“Jace, please don’t make me cut out more than I have to. If I left this part in, I would get so much hate for dating someone who would voice that,” Magnus reprimanded with an eye roll. He opened the app on his phone that controlled some of the basic settings of his editing software he was using to record the video; Magnus had paid a pretty penny for the editing program and was determined to make the most of it. “Could you remove your shirt for like ten seconds? Flex a bit too.”

“What? Why?” Jace questioned, putting the box of liquor to the side. Jace usually wouldn’t challenge Magnus asking him to take off his shirt; since it usually ended in something mutually beneficial. Now though, it was different, and Jace didn’t know if he was keen on making an appearance on porn sites. “While I’m more than happy to be shirtless for you at any time, why do you exactly need me to be now?”

“I need a thumbnail for the video, and last time, I used one of you showing off your arms,” Magnus answered as he messed with some more of the settings through his phone. He finished and set the phone on silent and faced down under his chair before turning to Jace with the biggest pouty lip he could muster. “I got so many positive comments from it. I might’ve promised my fans I would try and get you shirtless for the next one.”

“I don’t know how to feel about that,” Jace responded while trying to avoid the pleading look Magnus was giving him. He had fallen for that face too many times before. His mistake was looking to his boyfriend on instinct because Magnus jumped up when the alcohol taster box near him fell over. Magnus wasn’t looking at him anymore, but the startled look with the still pouty lip had taken any reservations Jace had away. “It feels a bit dishonest to the video and click-baity. Maybe I should put on the brown suspenders you have in the closet and be shirtless. So it goes with the reindeer outfit?”

“You would do that for me?” Magnus asked, surprised at the offer. He looked up at his boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Of course, baby.” Jace leaned down and kissed Magnus softly before discarding his shirt in one motion. “Go get me the suspenders?”

“I do love my man tied up,” Mangus said as he quickly left to go get the items before Jace changed his mind. He promptly retrieved a set of brown suspenders and ran back to the recording room. Once Jace had finished clipping them into place, they resumed their spots behind the camera. Magnus chastised himself for not having turned off or paused the recording while they had the costume debate.

“Ready?” Magnus asked, leaning over to fix one of the suspenders.

“All set,”

Magnus turned to the camera and smiled as he started.

“Hello, my Darlings! I hope that all of you are having a wonderful holiday season no matter the tradition you celebrate, and if you don’t celebrate anything during this season, then I hope your winter has been well.” Magnus greeted and placed a hand on Jace’s shoulder before continuing, “As you can see, I am joined today once again by my boyfriend. Introduce yourself again just in case, babe.”

“Hello, I am Jace, the better half of this relationship, and if you haven’t seen me here before, make sure to click somewhere near me. I am sure Magnus will put up a link to the Q&A I did with him,” Jace greeted. He had seen and heard his boyfriend do this often enough. Jace knew some of the things he should say. Jace grabbed his box of holiday liquors and looked at it as if he was confused. “So what exactly are we doing today, babe?”

“We are going to be trying some Holiday themed alcohol,” Magnus responded and grabbed his own box to show off the front to the camera. “I found these while browsing at the mall for some gifts.”

“So there are five in total,” Jace commented as he had now flipped the box to the back where he could read more information about the liquors.

“Yes,” Magnus confirmed while he started to open his box up and pull the five small one-shot bottles out of the case. “I’m glad I bought two boxes now. I thought the bottles would be a bit bigger given the size of the box.”

“So we are just going to take shots of them and review them?” Jace questioned as he mimicked Magnus and took his five liquors out as well. He was not looking forward to trying Captain Morgan Gingerbread Spiced or the Cinnamon Schnapps. They both seemed like they would be the closest to the taste of pumpkin spice, something he wasn’t retrying in alcoholic form.

“In a way, do you know what the real test of any holiday-themed liquor is?” Magnus prompted.

“How many shots does it take to make you forget your family’s cooking?”

“While that is an important statistic, I was going for something a bit different, babe,” Magnus replied with a chuckle. He reached by the table’s leg and brought up a large thermos and ten small cups. “The test every holiday-themed liquor needs to pass is; Drum roll please, Jace.”

Jace rolled his eyes but indulged his boyfriend accordingly and drummed his fingers against the table.

“Does it taste good with hot cocoa?”

“So I’m guessing that’s why we don’t have any milk,” Jace commented with a smirk. He had tried to get a bowl of cereal as a snack earlier only to finish pouring a bowl of cereal and find no milk in the fridge.

“Business expense,” Magnus replied and started to pour the hot cocoa. “We will use, however, much of the liquor we want, mix it, and then take a sip.”

“Sounds easy enough. How do we decide which one we try first?” Jace asked as he reached and grabbed his five cups of hot cocoa.

“We can just go ABC order,” Magnus resolved as he grabbed the small bottle of Captain Morgan Gingerbread Spiced. He handed Jace a small spoon and then proceeded to pour some of his bottle into the cup of cocoa. “So that means Captain Morgan Gingerbread Spiced is the first one.”

Jace tried to hide his grimace as he heard what Magnus was saying. He thought of how he could at least get the two he is most likely to hate out of the way first. Jace followed Magnus’ lead again and poured his desired amount in.

“Should we prep the rest ahead of time and put the bottles in front of them?” Jace asked when he noticed how long it took them to prepare one of the drinks. He knew it was less than a minute, but if they just did it now, it would mean fewer scenes Magnus would have to cut later during editing because they had ad idle chat while preparing the drinks.

“That would be easier,” Magnus confirmed as he started to open the rest of his liquor bottles.

They both set up their five respective cups of hot chocolate, each assigned a bottle proudly displayed in front of the cups. Jace made the mistake of smelling the cinnamon alcohol and immediately began to regret it.

“Ready,” Jace announced as he looked over to Magnus, who had just finished lining up the small bottles. “All set?”

“Yes, but let’s start as if we just finished the ‘what makes a good holiday-themed liquor’ scene,” Magnus adjusted himself and checked the recording’s status from his phone quickly. He saw that everything was still good, so he placed his phone back on the floor. “Follow my lead.”

“Always do baby,” Jace leaned over and placed a small kiss on the side of Magnus’ head.

“Alright, we took a moment to set up our drinks, but as you can see, we have hot chocolate in order to put these liquors to the test,” Magnus talked towards the camera. “We are going to be starting with the Gingerbread Spiced one. I honestly believe it won’t be that bad. I’ve enjoyed a gingerbread cookie with a cup of hot chocolate before, so it can’t be that bad.”

Magnus raised his cup towards Jace in a ‘cheers’ motion. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

They both took a drink and had two different reactions; as expected, Jace had hated the taste as soon as it filled his mouth. Magnus, on the other hand, had been delighted by the taste, and it showed on his face.

“I think I found a new liquor to use to spike my hot cocoa and would honestly recommend this one,” Magnus praised as he took another sip.

“It’s a complete pass for me on this one,” Jace countered as he placed the offending cup away from him. “I can’t even taste the hot chocolate anymore.”

“Alright, let’s move on then, Mr.Grumpy,” Magnus smiled and reached for the next cup and bottle. He giggled when Jace replied to him by sticking his tongue out at him. Magnus would have to remember to edit that into the video later. “This one is Cinnamon Schnapps. I’ve had the peach flavor before but never any of the others.”

“I don’t think it will taste that much different from the previous one.”

They both took their cups and drank from them. This time though, they both seemed to go back for a second sip.

“This one is surprisingly good,” Jace stated, surprised. “I thought it would be more overwhelming, but honestly just adds a warmness to the drink.”

“Agreed,” Magnus nodded along. “I would suggest only a small amount, though. I feel like if people put too much, it could tip it there.”

They both finished that cup of hot cocoa and pulled the third to them.

“Does your cup look darker?”

“I think it’s because this is the Godiva Dark Chocolate Liqueur,” Magnus replied as he read the bottle’s label.

“This one sounds promising,” Jace picked up the cup eagerly and drank with no reserve. He was rewarded by the bittersweetness of the dark chocolate being warmed by the alcohol in it.

“Wow, that is tasty!” Magnus exclaimed next to him and waited for Jace’s verdict.

“We should get more of this for the house,” Jace concluded as he drained the rest of the cup’s contents. “Definitely the best so far.”

“The next one will be interesting. I don’t know if apple cider mixes with cocoa well,” Magnus contemplated.

“Here, I’ll be the brave test subject for you, baby,” Jace volunteered and started to drink for the next cup. It was a confusing taste of apples and chocolate trying to fight for dominance. “It isn’t bad, but I think you’re right because I still can’t tell what I am tasting.”

Magnus took the bottle of Jack Daniel’s (Winter Jack) Apple Cider and drank from it instead of the cup of cocoa.

“Try just the liquor. While it didn’t pass the hot chocolate test, it is still delicious, and it does remind me of the holidays,” Magnus concluded. He was glad that the box only had five liquors because he was starting to feel a bit buzzed. Magnus watched Jace drink from the small bottle as well and nodded along.

“I wouldn’t buy it but wouldn’t be mad if someone gave me this,” Jace offered. “There is only one left, right? What is it?”

“Smirnoff Peppermint,” Magnus read off the label and scrunched up his nose. He wasn’t exactly a fan when companies tried to copy mint flavors in liquors. “It has a pretty label. It can’t be that bad.”

“Candy canes are peppermint, right?” Jace asked as he took a sip and immediately regretted it. He didn’t even put a lot of liquor in the cocoa, but apparently, it had been enough to simulate a weak mouthwash. He shook his head to play up the disgust for the camera and made a groan. “That was so bad. It feels like I just mixed toothpaste into that. This is nothing like candy canes.”

Magnus laughed at Jace’s reaction to the liquor. His boyfriend was more of a traditional alcohol man with no need for extra flavors. So Magnus knew that involving him in the video would give him some funny scenes for his video.

“Going to do the wrap up now,” Magnus warned Jace. He quickly rearranged the mostly empty cups and bottles on both sides so that they would look nice on camera. “Ready?”

Jace reached over and drank the rest of the dark chocolate alcohol in an attempt to rinse the rest of the offending peppermint from his mouth.

“Now, I am.”

“Thank you once again for joining us today, my darlings!” Magnus started as he looked at the camera. “I hope you all have a safe winter season. If you liked the video and want to see Jace in more of my videos, make sure you comment, like, and subscribe!”

“It was nice being here again. Make sure you leave my boyfriend a lot of love. He works hard on these videos,” Jace pulled Magnus closed and kissed his cheek softly before quickly adding, “and may nobody ever add mouthwash to your hot chocolate.”

Magnus laughed and waved at the camera as he let Jace pull him closer into more kisses. He knew he would have to cut some of these parts, but it was worth it. They would just go into his personal files, that he keeps of videos and photos of Jace and himself.

#antisocialaf #mywork #hmdiscord #jangus #fanfiction #shadowhunters

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nerdywriter15 · 4 years

Text

Once Upon a Stardust: Chapter 10/?

Summary: Follows the basic plot of the movie Stardust with a Captain Swan twist. In an attempt to win the affection of Neal Cassidy, Emma Swan leaves her home in the town of Storybrooke and travels to the Kingdom of Misthaven in search of a fallen star. Once there, she discovers that the star is in fact a person, a man who goes by the name of Killian Jones. Together, they must face many dangers, including sorcerers and pirates, in an attempt to return Emma to Storybrooke and Killian back to the sky.

Rating: T (It’s probably more K+ but I want to be safe. Also, the rating will remain the same throughout the whole thing.)

Word Count: ~ 2,329

Catch Up: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Read on FanFiction, AO3

Notes: I really have no excuse at this point. If you're still reading this, thanks so much for sticking with it even in spite of my abhorrent updating schedule. At this point, I think I'd just be fooling myself if I said I knew when my next update will be, but I do promise that I will finish this story eventually.

Also, I'm sorry for any errors! I was eager to get this posted, but I might go back and do another round of edits later.

~/~

Rumplestiltskin stood in an open field and gave an audible huff of frustration. He had been traveling all day and consulting his runes as to the location of the star. But they weren’t making any sense; he wasn't being pointed in any direction. He had tried interpreting them in every way possible, but he just couldn’t seem to get anything usable out of them.

There wasn’t anything left to do. He really didn’t want to use any further magic, but it couldn’t be helped. As much as he loathed to admit it, he needed assistance.

He conjured up a small mirror. He rubbed it roughly with his palm. A few moments later, the faces of Ursula and Maleficent appeared before him.

"You’re looking a little worse for the wear, Rumple," Maleficent said, gesturing toward his arms, which were now covered in scales all the way from his fingertips to his shoulders. You of all people should know magic always comes with a price. I would have thought that would deter you from using it carelessly."

"Of course I know the price magic comes with," he replied. "But I’m in need of counsel."

"I never thought I’d see the day when you admitted to needing help," Ursula said, chuckling deeply. "Not the powerful Rumplestiltskin."

"We don’t have time for this," he spat out. He could feel his temper flaring to life, but he managed to keep it enough under control to calm his voice and say, in a very measured tone, "You know as well as I do that the more I use magic, which includes using this mirror, the more my appearance deteriorates. And I need to blend in to accomplish what I set out to do. Now, if you’d both be quiet and stop making jokes at my expense, maybe we could get down to the pressing matter at hand. Or do you want to wait another who knows how many years for another star to fall?"

That seemed to sober the two witches, whose faces immediately adopted twin looks of chastisement. Although, if he really thought about it, he could have sworn that he saw a twinkle of mirth in Maleficent’s eye and a twitch at the corner of Ursula’s mouth. He restrained himself from saying anything, but just barely. It wouldn’t do to get angry now. As he’d said, he had something far more important to accomplish.

"Now that you’ve stopped being children," he said, "I need your opinion on these runes. They’re not telling me to go anywhere. I think they may be faulty."

"Impossible!" Maleficent said. "Those runes have served us well for many years."

"See for yourself," he replied, tossing them in the air. When they hit the ground, he turned the mirror towards them so that the witches could see what they said.

"You see?" he asked, turning the mirror back to his own face. "They're not working."

"You imbecile," Ursula yelled. "I knew we shouldn’t have sent you! The runes couldn’t be simpler!"

"How, dearie?" he snapped back. "Where can I go if they’re not telling me to go anywhere?"

"You’re not supposed to go to the star," Ursula said. "How much more obvious could it be?"

"You’re supposed to wait for him to come to you," said Maleficent.

That brought Rumplestiltskin up short. How could he have not seen it? It was such a simple explanation. As much as it pained him to admit, he really did deserve to be reprimanded for his oversight. But before Maleficent or Ursula had the chance to gloat any further, he banished the mirror. He didn't want to listen to them making a mockery of him.

He had preparations to make.

~/~

Killian felt like he had been riding all day. He knew that it had really only been a couple of hours at most, but he was exhausted, despite the fact that this was normally the time when he would be wide awake. His left hand hurt like crazy. He had tried to favor his right hand to stay balanced atop the unicorn, but since there were no reins, he was occasionally forced to use his left to grab ahold of the unicorn’s neck to stay balanced.

He had thought about asking the unicorn to slow down, but he knew it wasn’t a wise idea. He didn’t want to sleep outside, where anyone could happen upon him. They needed to press on until he found somewhere safe to rest his head for the night. And the sooner they found a place, the better.

Almost as if the universe was listening to his thoughts, he and his companion came turned around a bend in the road and came upon a wooden building. Out front, there was a large green sign that had the word "Inn" printed on it in large letters. Killian sighed in relief. This was just what he needed: somewhere to rest before facing the next day and figuring out what he should do next.

He urged the unicorn toward the door of the building and dismounted.

"Wait right here," he said. "I’m going to see if I can get a room." Suddenly, a sinking feeling entered his stomach. "Although I’m not sure if they’ll give me one since I don't have any money."

He felt a few raindrops fall from the sky and he glanced up. The light of the moon was still fairly bright, but he could see storm clouds gathering and blocking out the light from his siblings above.

"I’ll be back soon," he said. "Hopefully they have a stable where you can stay out of the rain."

The unicorn huffed in acquiescence and lightly tapped his snout against Killian’s head.

"Thanks for the reassurance," Killian said, giving the unicorn one last pat before striding toward the door and knocking.

He barely had to wait a moment before the door swung open, and he was met by the sight of a middle-aged man standing before him. He wore a long, heavy brown robe, with the hood pulled up over his head, and Killian noticed that his hands were covered by some thick black gloves.

"Yes, dearie?" he said as he opened the door. "How can I be of service?"

"I’m terribly sorry to trouble you," Killian said. "But I’ve been traveling for a while and I was just looking for somewhere to stop for the night."

"Of course, of course," said the innkeeper. "Please, come on in. We are an inn after all."

"Oh, but that’s the problem, you see." Killian replied. "I don’t have any money." He had thought about not mentioning his inability to pay until the morning, but he found himself losing his nerve. He couldn’t do that to this man who was just trying to make a living and hadn’t done anything to harm him.

But this was stupid. There was no reason this person, a complete stranger would let him stay here for free…

"Oh, no matter, no matter at all," the innkeeper replied, stepping back from the door and gesturing for Killian to come in. "It’s looking like we’ve got a storm on the way. I can’t in good conscience let you sleep outside in the rain."

Killian couldn’t believe his luck.

"Oh, thank you!" he said, feeling his body sag with relief. "I can’t tell you what this means to me."

He stepped over the threshold and the innkeeper closed the door behind him.

"Don’t let it trouble you at all," the innkeeper replied. "You can help me with gathering firewood or something of the sort tomorrow and we’ll call it even."

"That certainly sounds fair," Killian said. "More than fair actually."

"I like to do what I can," the innkeeper said, placing his hand on Killian’s shoulder and gently guiding him toward the inside of the inn. It was a quaint little place: small and simply decorated but clean and cozy looking. There was a wooden bar off to one side and tables and chairs spread throughout the floor, clearly showing that it was meant to double as a small tavern as well. On the far wall was a fireplace, which already had a roaring fire inside it.

Killian hadn’t realized how cold he had been. He felt his body start to warm up almost immediately.

"We can see to all of that in the morning, however," the innkeeper said, breaking Killian out of his thoughts. "For now, I think the most important thing is getting you some rest. Why don’t you head upstairs," he continued, gesturing toward a flight of wooden stairs toward the back of the room, "and we can get a nice, hot bath drawn for you."

"Oh, but my ride," Killian said, thinking of the unicorn who had come to his rescue standing outside alone in the rain. "He needs to be taken to the stable."

"Oh, no need to worry, no need to worry. My wife can take care of that while we get you settled," the innkeeper said. "Dear!" he then called loudly. "Can you please get this young man’s steed situated in the stable?"

Killian didn’t see anyone else in the room, so he was expecting to see someone come down the stairs. Rather, a woman rose up from behind the bar. Instead of coming around the edge of the bar to get to the door, she jumped straight up onto the bar and stood there for a moment, just staring straight ahead. Killian noted that she looked…just a little bit…different from other humans he had seen. For the most part, she seemed like any normal person, but her curly brown hair was sticking up at somewhat odd angles, and her jaw was set strangely, almost as if she was jutting it out on purpose. There also seemed to be some kind of blankness or emptiness behind her eyes.

Before Killian had a chance to consider her any further, she had jumped off the bar and headed out the door. He had half a mind to ask the innkeeper if she was alright but thought better it. He had spent many years observing humanity and if there was one thing he had learned, it was that there were all kinds of people who behaved in all kinds of different ways. Best not to bring it up.

"Now that that’s taken care of, I’ll have my son show you to your room," the innkeeper said. "Son, could you come here?" he called.

Killian looked back toward the bar nervously, half expecting another person to jump up on top of it, but he didn’t see anything. Rather he heard some heavy footfalls coming down the stairs. He looked up to see a man who appeared to be a few years older than himself walking down.

Killian was relieved to see that although he appeared perturbed at having been called downstairs at the late hour of the night, he didn’t seem quite as strange as the innkeeper’s wife had been.

"Yes?" the man who he assumed was the innkeeper’s son asked, a note of annoyance clear in his voice.

"Please show our guest to his room and run him a hot bath," the innkeeper said. "I’ll be up to assist in a moment."

"Of course," he replied. Then, directing his gaze toward Killian, "Right this way, sir."

Killian started up the stairs, relieved at the prospect of getting to rest. When he got to the foot of the stairs, he turned back.

"Wait," he said. "I never got your name. I’d like to be able to know it to be able to properly thank you for your kindness."

"Mr. Gold, dearie," the innkeeper replied. "You can call me Mr. Gold."

~/~

Rumplestiltskin let out a sigh of relief as he watched the star head up the stairs. For a moment, he had been sure that his plan was going to fail. Before the star’s arrival, he had transformed the goat into a woman and had restored the goat’s owner to his original human form. He had also put a spell on them to compel them to do anything he asked. He had thought that presenting the star with a picture of a loving family would make him more inclined to trust them and to stay.

Initially, it seemed as though his spellwork had been adequate. However, after the star had arrived, it became apparent that the goat was still very goatish, and that the goat’s owner — whose name he hadn't bothered to learn — had still been able to show some discontentment with the situation he found himself in. He had half expected the star to sense something was wrong and run out the door and back onto his unicorn screaming.

However, it appeared that he needn’t have worried. He knew that even though they had the ability to watch everything happening upon earth from the heavens, stars could be incredibly naive. He was glad that it had worked in his favor tonight. He was already having to cover himself up with his heavy robe and gloves to avoid displaying the scales that were taking over his body; he wasn’t sure he could afford using any further magic to strengthen his spellwork.

But the spells had worked, and all that was left to do now was to make sure the star felt as comfortable as possible. The more content a star was when it died, the more powerful the magic its heart contained. He just needed to wait for the right moment.

Walking back behind the bar, Rumplestiltskin pulled out his weapon of choice: a large dagger with a black hilt and a jagged silver bade. A long-favorite possession of his, the blade of the dagger bore his name, which was carved straight down the middle.

This will do quite nicely when the time is right, he thought to himself as he slipped the dagger into the pocket of his robes and headed up the stairs.

#cs ff #once upon a stardust #captain swan #ouat #my fanfic

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woodedcove · 4 years

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Check Your Source

I wonder how many people who believe in God still believe that there is also a devil. And if they do, do they recognize when he might be working on them? There is so much anger and hatred in the world today that I feel the need to remember that there is one who loves to encourage these negative emotions in us and it isn’t God.

What helps me is to recognize who may be influencing some of my thoughts and feelings. Certain thoughts and feelings are more likely to be from God, such as charitable thoughts. A thought or desire to do something for someone, to help someone or to be kind to someone, without receiving anything in return, is a thought I can trust has come from God. He is the one that inspires charity, love, kindness, selflessness, and caring.

Thoughts of hope, faith, willingness to try, or feelings of humility or joy are also from God. Indeed, Paul wrote, “but the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance...” (Gal 5:22-23)

Moroni wrote some of the words his father, Mormon, had spoken which further clarified the way to tell if something is from God. He wrote:

“For behold, the Spirit of Christ is given to every man, that he may know good from evil; wherefore, I show unto you the way to judge, for every thing which inviteth to do good, and to persuade to believe in Christ, is sent forth by the power and gift of Christ; wherefore ye may know with a perfect knowledge it is of God.

"But whatsoever thing persuadeth men to do evil and believe not in Christ, and deny him, and serve not God, then ye may know with a perfect knowledge it is of the devil; for after this manner doth the devil work, for he persuadeth no man to do good, no not one; neither do his angels; neither do they who subject themselves unto him.” (Moroni 7:16-17)

Something revelatory for me was realizing that Satan cannot do good. Some seem to think that he could or would do something good to lead a person to something bad, but that isn't the case. The Savior told us that a house divided against itself can not stand (Matthew 12:25). Satan not only has no desire to lead someone to do good, but he can’t lead someone to do good. Not if he wants to achieve his goal. His goal is to make us miserable like himself and ultimately he wants to destroy us. Why on earth would he take the chance of leading us towards something good if it might lead to our salvation? Doing good invites the Spirit of God. If Satan led us towards doing something good he would lose power over us. It is not his desire nor is it in his nature to lead us to do good.

The same is true of our Savior. He would never lead us to do something that would risk our salvation. His whole desire is to save us and give us the marvelous gift of eternal life! Then why would he lead us to contend with our neighbor, rage at the TV news, or argue over political candidates, religious beliefs, or anything else? Why would he inspire us to put others down, call them names or belittle them? The answer is: the Lord wouldn’t. The Lord would never lead us to treat our neighbor with less love and respect than we would hope to receive ourselves. He would never instill in us a feeling of envy or jealousy. He would never fill our hearts with rage, fear, or discouragement. And He would most certainly never invoke the kind of pride that demands one to be acknowledged as the one that is right no matter what. No. The Lord would never do this. But Satan would. The Savior said in 3 Nephi 11:29

“For Verily, verily I say unto you, he that hath the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil, who is the father of contention, and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another.

“Behold, this is not my doctrine, to stir up the hearts of men with anger, one against another; but this is my doctrine, that such things should be done away.”

I have to wonder what would happen if everyone stopped and thought about who was influencing their angry thoughts and feelings? We want to think that all our thoughts and feelings are all our own. But how many times have you had a thought go through your head and then wondered “where did that come from”? Satan is clever and often speaks in our own voice. But remember his only purpose is to stir up contention, hatred, and every other negative thought or feeling so that he can lead us down to becoming miserable, even like himself.

I know that there is also the temptation to feel justified in our anger, because someone did something to us, or because we feel that we’re the ones that are right and it’s the other person that is wrong. But in 3 Nephi 6:13 Mormon wrote:

“Some were lifted up in pride, and others were exceedingly humble; some did return railing for railing, while others would receive railing and persecution and all manner of afflictions, and would not turn and revile again, but were humble and penitent before God.”

The word “railing”, as used in this sense, means “to criticize (someone) severely or angrily especially for personal failings.” It also has many synonyms. Some of them are: berate, chastise, chew out, lecture, rag, rant, ream, rebuke, reprimand, reproach, scold, and upbraid. And the reason some would return “railing for railing”? Pride!

So the next time we feel a set of emotions rise up in us, or we have a train of thought running through our minds, do as the Lord has told us to do. “Look unto Me in every thought, ...” and then let us ask ourselves, “does this lead me to think of Christ and to believe in Him. Or does it take me further away from Him? If it is taking us further away, then it comes from the wrong source and we should drop those thoughts and run away as fast as we can!

One last thing: please understand, I have not written these words so they can be used as a weapon against someone that is deemed to be an enemy or at fault in any way. I have written them to be used as a guide for self-examination. The Lord has told us not to judge those around us. Why? I have found that when I am willing to honestly examine myself, I will see that I have been guilty of the same, or at least a very similar, sin. This makes sense when you think of it. Otherwise, how would it be fair for us to receive the same judgment with which we have judged? As the old saying goes: It takes one to know one. Instead, let us practice the wise Proverb, " A soft answer turneth away wrath ..." (Proverbs 15:1) Perhaps if we do this there will be a lot less anger and hatred in the world.

The beautiful photos for this post are provided by my Sweetheart, Dave Hogan

#Good #Evil #God #Jesus Christ #devil #emotions #negative #positive #thoughts #feelings #discerning #Scriptures

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multipandombabe · 6 years

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Late Night Parking Lot 🍃

i keep getting inspired as soon as i wake up so here’s some semi-angry/semi-public sex:

“God, lighten up a little,” he groaned. You were in the candy aisle of Target, watching your boyfriend shovel variety packs of sweets into your basket.

“Your diet is shit,” you reprimanded. “If you keep eating like this you’re not going to live past twenty-five David.”

“You’ve been in a bad mood all day. Just give me a break,” he sighed. He tried to reach out and tickle your side, hoping you might crack a smile for the first time since sunrise. It was no use. The physical contact made you shift away from him, tossing him an aggravated look, and darting off to the next aisle on your own. You weren’t in the mood.

The next time you spoke to him was at the checkout counter, arguing which of you would pay. You both insisted. He shoved his credit card into the sales person’s hand.

“This one has more money on it anyway,” he said bitterly, his eyes scanning yours to watch your anger play over your expression.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath. You resigned to let him pay. Why should you indulge his habits anyway?

You carried two of the bags and he carried the others as you made your way to the top floor of the store’s parking garage. The elevator trip was silent, except for the sound of plastic as he swung his bag back and forth.

“Can you just sit still for like five seconds?” you demanded.

“What is your problem,” he asked, exasperated.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. It was nothing. It wasn’t. You knew it was no big deal, but it mattered to you.

Last night he’d taken you out for dinner. He’d paid. You venmo’ed your half to him, but when you checked your phone this morning the money was back in your account. The little note with the payment read, “It’s on me.”

Fuck off, was your only thought. Yes it was a kind gesture, but every time he paid for things you felt like you were just racking up some big debt to him.

The elevator door dinged open on a nearly empty lot. It was very late in the evening, maybe early morning by now. He had parked the Tesla on the highest point of the parking garage. The gentle coolness and the pallor of the LA sky exhaled above you. A couple cars remained on the top deck with his but their owners were elsewhere. He followed your lead as you shuffled toward the Tesla in the far corner of the lot.

He hit a button, popped the trunk, and stowed his groceries. You stayed frozen, bad day getting the best of you.

“Why don’t we ever take my car?” you asked. You knew why, but you wanted to hear him say it.

“The Tesla’s nicer,” he didn’t shy away from it. “This is like a luxury vacation in a car. Why the fuck would we drive your car when we have this one? Plus you know I like to be the one driving.”

“Do you have to control everything?” you groaned.

“Yes,” he laughed. He wasn’t making it easy to be mad at him. Your anger wavered and then toppled into resignation. You leaned forward and let your forehead fall against his chest, bags still straining in your grip.

“You can’t do everything for me,” you murmured against his black t-shirt.

“But I want to,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you.

You peered up at him, “I want to do things for you. Treat you to stuff. Give you things.”

“You do,” he smirked.

“Not like that. I wish I could afford to get stuff for you like you do for me. If I could get you that dumbass Ferrari you want, I would. In a heartbeat. I feel like I owe you so much.”

He squeezed you tighter in his arms, “You don’t owe me shit. This is enough.”

You groaned again, banging your head against his chest. He trailed his arms down your body to your hands, grabbing the bags from them. He released you, shifting around you to stow the last two bags in the trunk, and pushing the button to close it.

“Let’s just talk about it on the way home,” he suggested.

“No,” you pouted, arms crossed. You didn’t want to go to his multimillion dollar home and revel more in how broke you were compared to him. “I want to stay right here.”

You kept your feet firmly on the ground, at the tail of the car. He stood to face you now, reaching out and placing both hands on your hips.

“Stop being a baby,” he chided. You stuck out your tongue in response. He pushed you back, his thumbs pressing harshly into the fabric of your shirt. Your back collided with the car. A part of your shirt was hitched up behind you and you could feel the metal car frame, cold from the autumn night, tense against your exposed skin. You swallowed hard. He brought his lips to your ear and you could hear his unsteady breath.

“Do you need me to fuck this attitude out of you?” he whispered. The depth of his voice sent chills down your spine. Suddenly the air was jarringly cold and the only source of heat emanated from his mouth against your ear. You heard the click of him undoing his belt. You just nodded, trying to close your mouth and swallow evenly. The sound of him slipping his zipper down boomed like gunfire around the silent parking lot. He took your hand and guided it into his pants, bringing you directly to his cock, helping you stroke him at first. Then he left you alone there. He used his hands to hold the base of your neck and give himself something to do while he began kissing you. You jerked him off slowly, basking in what little control you had. He wasn’t pleased. His lips left yours and found your ear again.

“You really want to give me something?” he asked. You could only nod. “Then get on your knees.”

You looked behind you first, eyes scanning the quiet parking lot. You two were at the trunk of his car in the furthest corner of the space, unable to be seen fully from the elevator but definitely able to be heard. If you got down on your knees, you knew no one would be able to see you behind the body of the Tesla. They’d still have full view of the upper portion of David though, and you didn’t want to risk it. Still, there was no one around. You considered it. He could tell you were worried.

“Have a little fun,” he suggested. His smug smile got the better of you. You wanted to impress him. To make him appreciate you. You swallowed hard and fell to your knees.

You reached up to free his cock from inside his boxers. He ran his hands through your hair, collecting it and holding it out of the way for you. You looked up at him, your eyes holding his. You flattened your tongue against the base of his dick and brought it to the tip. And again. You felt him twitch against your slow movements, desperate for more, but he managed not to break eye contact.

“You’re so pretty baby,” he said, pulling you off of him by his grip in your hair. He still needed control. You were both playing back and forth for that power. “Open your mouth.”

You did what he said, thinking he would just shove his cock in at that point. Instead, he leaned over a little and spit on your waiting tongue. He left one hand tangled in your hair but he brought the other to your chin and forced your mouth closed.

“Swallow,” he commanded, no hesitation in his low voice. You did as you were told. If it were anyone else you would have gagged, but you were greedy with him. You wanted everything he had to give. If he was letting you, you would take it.

He pried your lips back open with his thumb, encouraging you to return to the dick in front of you. You weren’t teasing him this time. You took as much of him as you could into your mouth, your hands around what didn’t fit. You found a rhythm between sucking him off and stroking him. Every few seconds you would deep throat him, allowing your lips to vibrate around him, building up spit for lubrication as you choked and gagged around him. You sucked all the way off, letting a pop escape as your lips left him momentarily. Then you licked the tip before taking him all the way back.

At the exact moment you were about to pull him out again, the elevator dinged. You both froze. You tried to breath normally through your nose as his cock sat at the back of your throat.

“Don’t move,” he whispered to you. He let go of your hair, took his phone out of his back pocket, and leaned an elbow against the trunk of his car. He tried to look like he’d just been standing there, scrolling though his phone. You sat still. You listened as the elevator doors opened and the voices of an older couple filled the parking lot. You looked up at David who was doing his best to look casual. You could hear the man’s voice chastising the woman for buying far more groceries than they needed.

You laughed a little at the situation, but the vibration made David double over slightly. He looked down at you with anger in his eyes. You were ruining his poorly constructed façade. Fun. And didn’t he want you to have a little fun?

As quietly as you could you pulled him out of your mouth, but your hand stayed on him. You stroked him slowly once, and then returned your lips. You starting to blow him again, at half the pace this time. You focused more on licking around his cock like a popsicle. You took one of his balls in your mouth and he broke, moaning loudly. He caught himself, coughing ridiculously loud to try and cover it up.

“You okay son?” the man called from across the parking lot.

“Ye— yep, yes. All good here.” David stumbled over his words as you licked around the head of his cock.

“Alright,” you could hear the confusion in the older mans voice, unconvinced but not willing to keep questioning. You heard the trunk slam shut, then two doors, then an engine, then wheels spinning and a quiet rooftop again.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” David shot down at you. You just smiled up at him. He jammed his phone in his pocket and found your hair again. This time he didn’t feel bad fucking your mouth a little, enjoying the gag it earned him. You breathed through it as best you could, loving the thrust of his hips toward your eager mouth. Alone again, he let himself moan and encourage you.

“Fuck that feels so good. You’re gonna make me me cum babe.” He cried out. “You want me to cum in your pretty little mouth?” he asked in a whine. You nodded while his cock slammed your throat.

He bucked forward a few more times until he finally came against your tongue, slowing the pace of his final thrusts. He pulled out, admiring the way his cum looked on your tongue. You swallowed it.

“Thank you,” he said, exhausted and rubbing his thumb against your lips. You smiled again.

“You’re welcome.”

#david dobrik smut #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik blurb #submission

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firegrilled · 5 years

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Mommas’ Boys - Part 7

@erejeanweek2k19 Prompt: Roommates

Summary: Celine Kirschtein knew of Eren’s tendencies to be bold in his decisions once he made up his mind, but she never expected to be ont eh receiving end of it when he decides he wants to marry Jean. Thankfully Carla is there to help guide her son in the right direction :D

Part 1 | Part 8 End

“So tell me, what are your plans once you graduate?” Celine dared to ask, causing Jean and Eren to pale. She poked her fork around the remnants of her salad in a vain attempt to scrape up another mouthful. “You graduate from Sina University in a semester, surely either of you have something lined up. You can’t stay in that terrible apartment together forever.”

“Uh… I’m still applying to potential jobs but I kind of want to take a break to spread my wings before I get chained down,” Jean answered, earning a frown from his mom.

“That’s all well and good but it’s important to get a few practice interviews in there,” Carla advised. “I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t say I did something similar before I married Eren’s father.”

Eren paused briefly before shoving a large piece of steak into his mouth.

Jean gave him a deadpan stare.

“Seriously? What part of don’t bite off more than you can chew don’t you get? I know it’s all you’ve ever done but get a grip,” Jean chastised Eren in front of their mothers.

Eren growled back while he chewed his food.

“Thank you, Jean. I’m glad you’ve been trying to be such a good influence on him,” Carla smiled fondly. “Also thank you treating us to such a nice dinner.”

Blushing at the compliment, Jean scratched the back of his head. “It’s the least we could do for our two biggest supporters.”

“Oh hush,” Celine giggled, waving her hand in front of her. “We’re your mothers, it’s what we do.”

“Even if we never expected you two to make it four years as a couple,” Carla shrugged.

“Mom!” Eren whined, his cheeks reddening.

“What? When you two always fought as kids I just never would’ve guessed-”

“Please stop,” Eren practically begged his mom, earning another chuckle from Celine.

Before he could be embarrassed, Jean stood up.

“If you would excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back,” Jean stated as he pushed his chair in. He leaned over Eren and tousled his hair quickly before running off, just as Eren tried to grab his arm.

“What did I say about touching my head?” Eren called after him in a huff, crossing his arms when he got a playful smirk from his boyfriend.

“You two are adorable,” Celine commented, laughing at the display with Carla.

“Yeah, I’m gonna marry him,” Eren declared, grinning.

Carla and Celine both stopped, dropping their cutlery. They blinked a few times until Eren noticed their change in demeanor.

“Excuse me?” Celine asked, a bit flabbergasted by the sudden statement.

Carla pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head.

“Eren, honey, did you just now decide this?” Carla wondered, a bit more versed in her son’s habits.

“Yeah, why?” Eren faced his mom wearing a puzzled expression.

“Then please don’t ask him when he returns.”

Furrowing his brow, an offended look made its way onto Eren’s face. “Why?”

“For starters you need a ring, but also because you should make the proposal special. Oh and you need to ask Celine for permission first, you are trying to wed her son after all,” Carla advised, counting with her fingers as she stated each fact.

Eren turned to face Celine, his face suddenly serious.

“Ms. Kirschtein, can I please marry your son?” Eren asked.

“No, not like that!” Carla sighed. “Don’t ask like you wanna go on a date with him. Tell her why!”

Celine bit back a smile at Carla’s commentary. She knew of Eren’s rather straightforward yet blunt way of speaking but Celine never anticipated being on the receiving end of it.

“Jean has made me so happy over the last few years and I know I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I’d like to have your approval,” Eren tried again, leaning forward over the table to get loser to Celine.

Fighting back some tears, Celine nodded. In a quiet voice she replied, “Yes, you definitely have my permission.”

Celine fanned herself with her hands while Eren fell back into his chair and cheered.

“Hell yeah!” Eren all but shouted in the restaurant, drawing the attention of everyone around them.

When they noticed all eyes on them, Celine and Eren tried to regain their composure in time for Jean to return. He quirked an eyebrow as he sat down, wary of all the eyes on them.

“Why is everyone staring at us?”

---

“Thank you and have a wonderful day,” Celine replied in her best saccharine sweet tone as the camera on her laptop turned off. She quickly hung up the phone before sinking into her leather chair and letting out a deep breath. “God I hate Monday meetings. Carla, how many do I have left?!”

A familiar head poked into her office, wearing a tiny smile. “Another three hours, Ms. Kirschtein.”

“I’m getting too old for this,” Celine said, tilting her head back in exasperation. She winced when her ringtone suddenly went off. Almost chucking her phone into the nearby trashcan, she paused when she recognized the caller id. “Erwin?”

“Hey Celine, it’s time. Can you and Carla hurry to my office?” Erwin asked.

Celine’s eyes widened as a mixture of nervousness and joy shot through her body. She looked at her calendar and confirmed the date. “Yes! Of course, we’re on our way. Carla, cancel the rest of my meetings. It’s time!”

Carla’s eyes widened before an emotional smile spread over her face. “Sure, I’ll do it on the way.”

The two woman practically sprinted out of the bank towards Celine’s newer BMW. Carla started calling a flurry of customers while Celine sped along an old but not forgotten route. Her car arrived at Trost Prep but she parked it under a tree in the back away from prying eyes. The two mothers smiled upon seeing Celine’s old Honda parked near the entrance.

“Yo, this way,” Levi called out to the women, already waiting for them by the entrance.

“Thank you, Levi,” Carla greeted him.

Levi led them down the nostalgic corridors, though this time for a much different purpose. They passed familiar faces and teachers that waved to them. The two women returned the gestures but kept quiet on the journey to the principal’s office. They barely made it two steps in before Hanji looked and them with the biggest grin.

“Congratulations you two!”

“Not yet, Hanji. And save it for the real stars of the show today,” Celine dismissed but shared the receptionist’s enthusiasm.

Levi ushered them into Erwin’s office. Inside the principal was missing but there were already a small crowd gathered. Against one wall stood several younger adults that Celine recognized from stories that Jean told of college but she didn’t recall their names. She did recognize Marco and Armin standing next to each other holding hands, as well as Mikasa and Annie across the room from them. Both couples already wore rings.

“Alright that covers everyone. Children on the wall and moms to their station. Oh and give your best angry mom expression,” Levi advised, a tiny smile crossing his face.

Celine and Carla walked towards the desk and turned to face the door. They leaned against the desk, Celine crossing her arms while Carla rested her hands on her hips. Their eyes fell to the lone tiny blue chair in the room. A hard plastic chair meant for a first grader sat facing the desk with a tiny velvet box on it. Carla felt goosebumps crawl down her neck at the memory of this chair, or at least one like it. How many years had it been since these two mothers were first called into this office to reprimand their sons for fighting?

The fond memories faded as the sound of a ruckus and the faint roar of Erwin’s deep voice echoed outside the door.

“…coming back to this old school for what? Do you even know what the crime for trespassing is?” Erwin’s deep voice came could be heard.

“We’re sorry, we were just having a trip down memory lane! No need to call the cops, Erwin!” Jean’s pleading could be heard, earning a snort from some of his friends.

“That’s Principal Ackerman to you. Oh don’t worry, I already contacted something much worse,” Erwin warned as the knob turned.

Celine and Carla put on their best angry but also disappointed expressions as the door opened to reveal a rather flustered Jean, a disapproving Erwin, and a stoic yet defiant Eren.

Jean’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped upon seeing the two parents. “Maman? Ms. Jaeger?”

“Jean Alexandre Kirschtein, really? Breaking into your old school? I thought I raised you better!” Celine narrowed her eyes, clicking her tongue.

Jean paled at her chastisement, shrinking visibly at her words.

“Eren Jaeger, I know I raised you better,” Carla feigned anger, almost cracking a smile at her son who merely smirked at her words.

It took Jean a moment to notice the others hugging the side of the room before his head snapped from side to side to take everyone in.

“Wait, what the hell?” Jean spoke, confusion in his tone.

Eren took a few steps forward before bending down and picking up the tiny box and sitting down in the comically small chair.

“This all seemed rather fitting considering its where spent the most time together in school,” Eren briefly stated. “Jean, we’ve fought more than anyone I know yet became the best of friends and more. Every day with you has been such a fun experience and it’s not something I want to give up when we graduate. In fact, I want to experience this for the rest of my days with you if you’ll have me.”

Eren cracked open the velvet box to reveal a shiny silver band with a band of tiny blue gems inlaid around half the ring.

Taking a step back, Jean covered his mouth with both of his hands. His eyes widened as his blood ran cold, the gravity of the situation falling on his shoulders. The room stayed silent while he trembled. His hands slowly fell to show a fragile smile on his face. If any water tried to form at the edges of his eyes Jean restrained them.

“Yes, you magnificent asshole, a thousand times yes,” Jean managed to squeak a reply before dropping to his knees to embrace his new fiancé.

Their friends let out a small cheer while their mothers exchanged hugs.

Celine sniffed as she witnessed one of the happiest moments of both her’s and Jean’s life unfold.

Levi walked behind Erwin’s desk while everyone celebrated, bending down to rummage through his drawers. When he found what he was looking for he cleared his throat.

“Oi, for the new love birds,” Levi caught everyone’s attention as he slammed a bottle of Chardonnay on the desk.

Even though most of the kids exchanged confused glances, Celine and Carla were doubling over from laughter. A story to tell their sons at a later date.

To Be Continued in the Final Part

#fic: Mommas' Boys #erejean #Eren Jaeger #Jean Kirschtein #jean kirstein #roommates #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #eruri #the two got married :D #and yes Erwin took Levi's name #oh and the proposal was probably Armin's idea #i love eren but planning isn't his forte #snk #shingeki no kyojin

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a-corndog-named-schibbs · 7 years

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Kurt in a Skirt

The title pretty much sums it up. Based on the headcanon that Kurt finds skirts more comfortable because of his tail.

Please enjoy!

Most of the time, Kurt considers himself a very patient person.

If there’s one thing he has no patience for, though, it’s heat.

It comes from being covered in a layer of dark fur, he supposes. Great for keeping warm in the winter, not so great for keeping cool in the summer.

Normally, he doesn’t have much of a problem with it here. Xavier’s is in the famously cold American northeast after all, and the dorms and classrooms are all air-conditioned.

But it’s currently the dog-days of summer and of course, of course, the air conditioner decided to break this morning.

Kurt wakes up already sweating, the fur on his face sticking uncomfortably to the pillow. He frantically kicks the covers off to try to give himself some relief. That helps, but not by much. He pulls off his already damp sleep shirt. There, that’s better.

Kurt eyes the bathroom door. He feels gross right now, but he can’t decide whether he should attempt a shower and risk making the room more humid than it already is, or just lick himself clean and risk getting even more sweaty from bending over backwards, trying to reach the hard-to-get areas on his body.

In the end, he opts for a cold shower. At first, it’s rather nice, waking him up and cooling him down at the same time, but the moment he turns the water off, the hot air comes back and now Kurt’s overheated and wet. Not a pleasant combination.

He’s not even going to bother trying to straighten his hair. It would only be a waste of time.

Next, Kurt goes to the closet and debates what to wear. This was the part he’d been dreading. He feels uncomfortable just imagining putting on a pair of pants in this heat, trying to wrestle his tail through the back hole and having the fabric stick to the fur of his legs. Shorts might be better, but there’s still the issue of his tail.

Then he spots it in the back of his closet. Kurt swallows thickly. Part of him doesn’t want to, but the rest of him is screaming that it’s the only viable solution.

Kurt pulls the skirt out of his closet. He remembers buying it months ago, seeing it at the mall and thinking it might be nice to have some bottoms he didn’t have to cut a hole into. Well…might as well get some proper use out of it.

Kurt pulls the skirt on, up over his briefs. It’s black with a pattern of purple flowers and hangs down to about mid-thigh on him. Kurt walks over to the mirror to get a better look. Already it feels much better, letting the breeze cool the fur on his legs. Kurt looks in the mirror, though, and begins to have second thoughts. Not that it looks bad, it actually makes his legs look quite nice. It’s the other students Kurt’s worried about. He knows full well people already whisper about his appearance when he’s out of earshot. What will they say when they see him in a girl’s skirt?

No, Kurt reprimands himself, Not a girl’s skirt. It’s my skirt. I’m a boy and it’s on me and that makes it a boy’s skirt.

Kurt walks back to his closet to find a top. Should he try to match it with his skirt? Maybe ask Raven if she has anything he could borrow?

Kurt shakes his head. Baby steps. He picks out an ordinary t-shirt and pulls it on. Now to face the rest of the school.

Kurt opens the door a crack and peeks out. Warren is waiting for him out in the hallway, as always. He’s shirtless today, probably for the same reason that Kurt decided to forego pants. Kurt takes a deep breath. This will be the first test.

He steps into the hallway and Warren’s eyes are immediately on him. At first, Warren looks a bit shocked and Kurt’s heart sinks, but then a huge grin spreads across Warren’s face and Kurt breathes a sigh of relief.

“Lookin’ good, Blue.” says Warren, putting an arm around his waist, “Trying out a new style for summer?”

Kurt smiles, “It was too hot to put on pants, so…”

“I like it. Really shows off those nice thighs of yours.” Warren reaches down and teasingly plays with the hem of the skirt.

Kurt takes his hand and guides it away. “Not right now.” he says, a chastisement, but also the hint of a promise.

Warren obliges, leaning forward and settling for a brief kiss instead. “Fair enough. How about we grab some breakfast?”

He starts to lead Kurt toward the stairs, but Kurt hesitates. Wearing a skirt in front of Warren is one thing, he’d find Kurt attractive no matter what he wore. Wearing a skirt in front of everyone else is another thing entirely.

“Something wrong?”

“I just…” Kurt can’t find the words. He feels silly, but the nervousness won’t go away. He gestures to the skirt.

Warren nods, understanding immediately. “Babe, look at me,” He reaches up and caresses Kurt’s cheek, “If anyone, and I mean anyone, gives you crap for wearing that skirt, I will personally kick their ass, okay?”

“Okay.” Kurt takes a deep breath and allows Warren to lead him down to the dining room.

Most of the students are already there, loading up their plates with breakfast food and chatting amicably with each other. A few look up when Kurt and Warren enter, taking note of Kurt’s appearance. The whispers start.

Warren pulls Kurt closer, wrapping a wing around him to give him a bit of privacy, a gesture for which Kurt is immensely grateful. He gently pets the feathers closest to him.

Their friends have already claimed their usual table. Peter is animatedly telling a story to Ororo between bites of pancakes. Scott is chowing down on strips of bacon. Jean and Jubilee are exchanging gossip over their omelets.

Scott spots them first and waves them over. “Hey, Kurt, how…” he trails off, noticing the skirt, “What, uh, what’s that?”

Kurt can feel Warren tense up beside him, “Haven’t you ever seen a skirt before, Summers?”

“Of course I have!” snaps Scott. He turns his attention back to Kurt, “I’ve just never seen you wear a skirt before.”

Kurt can feel himself start to sweat, and it’s not just from the broken air conditioner, “I just…I thought it would be cooler than…you know, than pants.”

He braces himself for a teasing comment, but Scott simply nods, “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. It feels too hot to wear anything today.”

“It sounds like a great idea.” says Peter. He props up his chin with his fist, “Man, I’d wear a skirt today if I had one. My jeans keep sticking to my legs.”

Jubilee smiles, “I like it! Where’d you get it?”

“The…the mall down the road. They were on sale.”

“Do they come in pink?”

“Maybe? They had a few different ones.” Kurt can feel his shoulders relax. This is going far better than he thought.

“Do you have any others?” asks Peter.

“Um, yes, a couple. I have a striped one and…”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Peter is out of his seat and away. He comes back seconds later, wearing a black-and-white striped skirt that Kurt recognizes from his own wardrobe.

“Whoa, guys, it is cooler than pants!”

“We knew that already, Peter.” says Jean, straightening the hem of her own skirt.

“And look! When I twirl, it does this!” He spins around, letting the skirt twirl up and giving everyone a good view of his boxers.

“Well, don’t flash us!” says Ororo, laughing at Peter’s antics.

“Jesus, Peter, people are eating in here.” says Warren, shielding his eyes.

Peter stops twirling and grins at Kurt, “Can I borrow it?”

Relief floods through Kurt. These are his friends, of course they wouldn’t make fun of him for something like this. Why had he doubted them? “Of course you can. I’ll want it back by the end of the day, though.”

“Yeah, for sure.” says Peter, returning his attention to the plate of pancakes in front of him.

Kurt takes a seat between Warren and Jubilee, finally relaxing. Maybe some people will judge him, but that doesn’t matter. The only people who matter are sitting right here at this table with him.

#x-men apocalypse #kurt wagner #nightangel #warren worthington iii #peter maximoff #and other assorted peeps #fun fact: i own the skirts described in this fic #my fanfictions #my posts

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thorne93 · 7 years

Text

Just My Luck (Part 5)

Prompt: Imagine accidentally walking into the men’s bathroom and seeing this fine specimen (James McAvoy)

Word Count: 1300+

Warnings: Language, fight

Notes: Collab fic with my girl @cocosierra94!!! Internal thoughts are in Italics, texts are in bold

Tags: @marvel-imagines-yes-please @nilalovessadness @tacohead13 @captain-fuckinglevi @bohemianrhapsody @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise19982sand @missinstantgratification

@thejulesworld

~~~~~~~~~

“I'm guessing James is back in London today?” Rachel asked you cautiously, she could tell you were a bit frazzled by his departure.

“Yeah….And before you even ask, I'm okay,” you said, smiling a little, just to reassure your friend and possibly even yourself of your well being.

It had been a wonderful couple of weeks that you and James had spent together and you knew he had to go back to work, but it didn't make the pain any different to watch him leave for the airport.

“So are things getting pretty serious between you two? I mean I know it's only been a few months since you two met, but I mean... come on, I haven't seen you smile this much since you got your first camera.”

“Oh shut up.” You playfully pushed her, smiling down to the ground. “I…. do think it's getting serious. Ugh, Rachel! I get all nervous around him, he makes me laugh, respects me, makes me feel safe, he makes me feel--”

“Love… Y/n, you're in love.”

“I'm …Rachel what do I do?!” you asked in a panic. Love scared the shit out of you. After Michael, you didn’t want anything to do with relationships or love. Love lead to hate.

“Enjoy it! It's a good feeling, especially when it's real.”

“Well should I tell him? When? What should I even say?”

“First of all, duh! Don’t worry, I'll help you.. but you'll need to take a week off.”

You frowned at your best friend. “What, a week? Why?”

“Because here.” She handed you a plain white envelope.

“Rachel, what is this? This better not be your funny way of firing m--” You stopped as soon as you saw the contents of the envelope. “This is a ticket to Spain. Why am I going to Spain?”

“James called me asking if I would be interested in going to Spain, but I told him you'd probably enjoy it more than me.” She laughed as she wrinkled her nose at you as she sat on your desk.

You sat with the ticket in your hand, stunned.

“Spain. But...but..but I have work!” you spluttered, your head spinning.

Rachel grinned and responded, “And now you don't. Since you've been working for me the most you've ever taken off was two days to go see your family. It's time you used vacation for its true purpose!”

“What's that?” you asked innocently.

“To have fun! You do remember how to do that, right?”

“Rachel...I don't know. A foreign country with a man I just started dating. Is it too soon?”

“Well, what do you think? Are things moving too fast?”

You blushed and responded meekly, “Well no.”

“Then go. What's the worst that'll happen? You have a good time with a great looking guy?”

“I guess you're right.”

“Come on. It'll be fun. We’ll go shopping after work for some things.”

“Shopping? I've got clothing.”

“No, you have clothes for work and clothes for being a hermit. You don't have clothes for shaking your money maker on a beach”

“Rachel!” you chastised, blushing.

“What? It's true. You need some sexy numbers.”

You sighed with humor.

-------

After work, Rachel and you went to some high end shops in Soho. She picked out some things that were entirely too revealing. A leather mini skirt, a white shirt that tied around the waist, a loose maxi dress with spaghetti straps, and a few skimpy bikinis. You were trying everything on and showing her.

“Come out! Come on!” Rachel urged as she browsed mindlessly for herself.

“No!” you shouted back. “I can't do this. I look stupid.”

“No, you don't! Come on!”

You sighed and came out, covering yourself with your arms. You were in one of the skimpy bikinis with a wrap around sheer skirt.

“Rachel, this is too much!”

“No it's perfect! Now all you have to do is a little strip tease,” she cooed as she danced around you.

“I most certainly will not!” you said adamantly, blushing.

“Well if you don't tease him at least wear this stuff.”

“Why? Why do you care so much?”

“Because I'm living through you and you need to slut it up for me. If not for me, do it for James.”

“But so far he likes me in my over sized shirt and jeans self.”

“And now he'll get to see what you're hiding under all that, sweetie.”

“You really think he'll like it?” you wondered, chancing a peek at your reflection. You did look somewhat good. But good enough for James? Maybe not.

“I know so. Good rule of thumb, if you feel comfortable, you're doing it wrong. Cleavage out, butt up, legs shaved.”

She slapped your ass and you yelped.

“Now. Grab that and I'll let you wear my black bikini. Next, we need lingerie.”

“Lingerie?” you said in a small voice.

---------

The next week came quicker than you expected. You had decided not to tell James you were coming, telling him you were sick. Instead, you made plans with his personal assistant to surprise him. She arranged for a car to pick you up at the airport and take you to the hotel he was staying at. Suitcase in tote, you headed up to the penthouse suite.

You could hear him in the room talking to his personal assistant, “ ...I just feel bad I'm not there taking care of her. Maybe I should just leave tomorrow to go see her.”

Your heart did a somersault at his thoughtfulness, there was also a hint of guilt because he was worrying for nothing. To quiet the beating of your heart, you knocked on the door, and announced, “Room service!”

James was probably frowning, stating, “I didn't order room ser--”

He opened the door, beholding the sight of you before him. His eyes went wide and he seemed shocked into speechlessness.

“Surprise!” you said with a wide grin and a laugh.

“Y/n! You're here!” He swiftly moved to embrace you. He wrapped you in a tight hug before finally telling his assistant that he didn’t need her any more and hanging up. “Y/N--You--you’re---how did you get here?”

“I thought you were smart,” you said sarcastically with a grin. “The plane ticket?”

“Right! I’m sorry. I forgot, I’ve been so worried about you...and apparently for nothing!” he reprimanded, shaking you a little. “Well come inside!” He ushered you in. “I have the whole week planned! There is so much I want you to see and do!”

“Well good,” you said with a laugh. “I’ve never been to Spain so...You’ll have to be my tour guide.”

“I bet I’m the most handsome tour guide you’ve ever had,” he said in a low voice as he slowly leaned in to kiss you.

You nodded your head side to side. “Eh, maybe top five,” you joked. In a more serious tone, you admitted, “I missed you, a lot.”

“I missed you too.”

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

The next couple of days were incredible! The architecture was stunning. The perfect place to photograph. James was patient with you while you stopped to snap pictures of people, places, animals, the sky, nature, cars. Literally everything caught your eye. He took you to the beach two days in a row and at first you were incredibly insecure, until he continued to hold you, play with you, splash you in the water, and you caught him admiring you a handful of times and your worry started to melt away a little bit.

Tonight, he said he had a special surprise for you. He lead you through the warm streets just as evening was starting to a sort of club. It was a restaurant but most people went for the dancing.

“Come on, Y/N,” he urged as he grabbed your hand.

“What? No! No! James, I can’t dance!”

“Nonsense, just let the music move your body. I know how to lead.”

“But--”

“Have I steered you wrong yet?” he asked seriously, those sparkling blue eyes piercing yours.

“Well...no…”

“Then come.”

You nodded as you obliged. He lead you in the middle of several bodies, already warm and sweating from dancing all night in the heat.

This was, unsurprisingly, out of your comfort zone. It wasn't like you were a terrible dancer, you could keep up with the rhythm fairly well, you just weren't used to dancing with other people around. Especially not A list actor people.

“He’s handsome, a great cook, a great dancer.. what's not to love.”

“Y/n, stop thinking so much, love! Just focus on the music. What is the beat telling you to do?” He glided his hand down to your hips and guided them from side to side, swaying to the beat. You closed your eyes and listen to the Spanish melody playing around you.

“Despacito

Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito

Deja que te diga cosas al oído

Para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo”

In that heated moment, your body knew exactly what to do. He lead your every sensually slow movement. Dancing closer and closer, you could feel him breathing in your neck slowly, driving you insane.

“I love this song,” you spoke with a soft rasp in your voice.

“Why is that?” he practically growled in your ear.

“It's about a man wanting to enjoy every second of being with his woman...slowly.”

“Is that so?” he purred before he turned you so that your legs were positioned between each others. His hands still on your waist as he guided your hips, so that they were swaying with every movement. Before you knew it, the people around you had slipped away, as if you were the only people in the room. Naturally, you began slightly grinding on his leg as his hands dug into your hips, gripping you even harder, making your arousal spike.

You looked at him, eyes glazed with ecstasy. “He wants to remember every detail of her body… slowly.”

“I definitely understand how he feels.”

You could feel just how well he understood as he pressed himself against you. You tried not to, but you let out a small whimper. You bit your lip trying to get a hold of yourself.

“Why don't we get out of here and go back to the room?” he whispered in your ear, nipping at it slightly, rendering you speechless.

All you could do was nod as your mouth went dry.

Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the music, maybe it was the way everyone was sensually moving around you, maybe it was the mystique and adventure of a new and foreign land. Whatever it was - you wanted James, now.

Immediately, he grabbed your hand and you two nearly ran through the streets like children on a quest. Laughter erupted from your mouths, until, James pulled you aside in an alleyway, a few blocks from your hotel.

“James, our hotel--” you started but he interrupted.

“I know, but I need you now. I can’t wait any longer,” he nearly growled, desperation in his voice as both hands went to cup your face before his lips crashed onto yours in a furious frenzy of passion. He backed you up against a stucco structure, your backside feeling the building behind you as he pressed into you.

Uncontrolled by you, a gasp and moan escaped your mouth as he kissed your neck, trailing down to your collarbone. Your hands wrapped around his back, your fingers digging into the blades.

In a swift, unforeseen motion, he grabbed your thighs and hoisted you so your thighs wrapped around him and your dress fell to the side.

“Are you alright with this?” he questioned, want and permission making his pupils balloon out.

“Mhm,” you said as you nodded, slightly grinding against his groin.

“Alright then,” he agreed before going back to work on you….

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

Morning came and your body felt as if you got a new skin. A night with James was surely one to remember. Especially when he made magical moments happen in an alley and three times back at the hotel room.

James suggested going down to the beach and you happily said yes. You could finally put on the infamous black bikini that Rachel had worn on numerous occasions that won over at least a dozen men each time. You could’ve sworn it had magical power. And now that James had seen you naked, you weren’t nearly as nervous being in it.

You put on the sexy little number, wrapped a beach wrap around you so you could surprise James when you got to the beach, and you two headed out, hand in hand.

Once you got down there, you both realized you needed towels. James said he’d be right back to fetch some from a small shop right on the beach. He gave you a chaste kiss and raced off. As soon as he was gone, you dropped your beach wrap, hoping that when James got back, the lacey black ensemble would send him reeling.

“Want some help with that?” a random voice asked as you looked up into the bright sun, not a cloud in the sky.

“I’m sorry?” you said once your eyes focused. It was a tan man with long black hair, a close shaved black beard, and muscles you usually only see on the cover of sports magazines.

“I said, would you like some help? Applying the sunscreen?” he asked again, his voice having a bit of an accent. You figured he was probably a local.

“Oh, yeah, sure! Thanks! Could you get my back?”

“Absolutely.”

He knelt down and handled the sunscreen, meanwhile, your boyfriend was watching another man rub all over you in the skimpiest thing he’d ever seen you wear.

“I love your bikini,” he noted.

“Thank you, it’s my friend’s. She’s letting me borrow it while I’m on vacation.”

“Oh, are you here with anyone?”

“She’s here with me,” James voice said as he stood over you two.

“Oh, hey there,” the stranger greeted as he got up.

“Hi, thank you for taking care of my girlfriend but I’ll be assisting her now.”

“Fine by me. Have yourselves a lovely day,” he said as he walked off. James stared after his form.

“Thanks for getting the towels,” you said sweetly as he fanned one out and sat on it.

“Yeah,” he noted, not his usual sparky self.

“Would you like me to get your back with the sunscreen?” you offered.

“No, no thanks.”

“Well...would you like to go in the water?”

“I’m fine right here,” he quipped.

“Okay...Well, I’d like to cool off,” you noted as you stood up. “Do you like my bathing suit?”

“It’s alright I suppose. It certainly got that local’s attention…”

“What’s with you?” you asked, wondering where the sour mood came from.

“Nothing, just-- go enjoy the water, love.” Agitation filled the space between you two.

You scoffed at his poor attempt of trying hide his emotions, “Okay well when you're ready to be an adult and talk about what's bothering you, you know where to find me.”

You couldn't understand why he was being so moody. You were determined not to let it bother you, “He said it was nothing, so don't think about it! Just relax.”

The more you tried to put it out of your mind, the more you thought about how suddenly his mood had changed. What exactly caused the atmosphere to go from being warm and inviting to cold and distant? You looked back at James only to find, he wasn't there.

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

You found yourself staring at the empty beach chair in disbelief.

“Are you freaking kidding me?!” you thought.

In one swift, furious second you were striding up the beach to grab your belongings and head to the room.

Thankfully you managed to remember the spare room key, you opened the door to find him on the couch flipping through the tv channels.

“Back so soon?”

“Cut the crap, James, why the hell did you leave me down there?”

“I told you I didn't feel like swimming.”

“Okay but you were fine when we left, so what changed? And don't bullshit me either!”

He paused for a brief moment, debating on whether or not to be completely honest with you.

Taking in a deep breath, he spoke calmly, “I didn't appreciate the way that guy had his hands on you.”

It took you just a second to gather your wits. Wondering if you misheard him, you said, “Are you serious?! He was just being nice!”

“No, he wasn't! I saw the way he and his friends were watching you, the same way I was watching you. Which I can assure you was not in a friendly way!”

“So this is about you being jealous?!”

“No! Y/n, this is about you being too naive to see when a guy is trying to hit on you!”

You were floored by the anger in his voice. The words were like a swarm of hornets attacking your heart. Tears brimmed your eyes threatening to fall.

“Look, I didn't mean it like that, I just---”

“No, James, I know what you meant. Don't worry, my naivety and I will be out of your way from now on. I'll just get my stuff and go back home.” You b-lined it to bedroom, locking the door behind you.

“Y/n, please, don't leave. I'm sorry.” Hearing the pain in his voice pushed you to your breaking point. Those tears gave way. He could hear you quietly crying, trying to comfort yourself. You didn't know it, but hearing your sobs, knowing he caused the hurt, pushed him to his breaking point. He couldn't bear to watch you leave. He grabbed his phone and stepped out on the balcony.

In a flurry of anger and hurt, you threw your belongings into your suitcase in a somewhat manageable manner, grabbed your bags, and heaved a sigh. You asked yourself if you were really going to leave. You decided that if he stopped you on the way out, you would reconsider, if he didn’t, then it wasn’t meant to be.

You stepped out of the bedroom and glanced around for him. You saw him on the balcony faced partially away from you, but if he just turned slightly, he would see your pain stricken form in front of him. He was on a phone call. You waited, you waited longer than you wanted to, but he apparently seemed too preoccupied to deal with it than to come after you.

With that, you silently turned, opened the hotel door, and left for the airport.

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

“Rachel,” you sobbed as she opened the door.

“Y/N? You’re supposed to be in Spain! What are you doing here?”

An answer couldn’t come though as you fell into her arms.

“Oh, honey, what happened?”

“He--he…”

“Did he hurt you?” she demanded in an angry tone. “Did he take advantage of you?”

You shook your head. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“Well, tell me,” she informed as she walked you over to the couch.

“He...he called me naive. A guy on the beach was helping me put sunscreen on and he got jealous and we had a fight.”

“I see.”

“So...I just left.”

“You’re not naive, Y/N.”

“I don’t know, maybe I am. I mean, I thought me and James could work. But how could we? He’s a celebrity with tons of gorgeous, smarter, funnier women that he could have. I’m just...a nobody. I’m an assistant, an errand girl.”

“Stop that,” Rachel commanded in a chastising tone. “Out of all of the women he could be with, he chose you.There just might be women that are smarter or prettier than you….”

“Rachel, you aren't really making me feel better,” you interrupted her.

“Let me finish. Yes, there might be women that are smarter or prettier than you, but none of them are you. None of them have a heart made of pure gold like you do. You would give up EVERYTHING for the people you love and even a little bit for people you don't know. So no, you aren't naive. You choose to see the good in everyone. However, when people try and take advantage of that kindness, it makes us, the people who love you, wanna rip them to shreds!”

You sniffled, smiling a bit at her.

“Thank you. I just...I think I got in over my head with him…”

“Well, he’s handsome and Scottish, no one can blame you,” she eased as she tucked hair out of your face.

You smiled again and she went to the restroom, by the time she got back, you had fallen asleep on the couch. Between your emotions and the jet lag, you were happy to let sleep take over.

She covered you up and turned out the light. Being kinda tired herself she headed to her room.

“15 missed calls? Jeez who's been blowing up my phone?”

She clicked on the notification and noted 5 of the 15 were from James. Figuring the rest of calls could be dealt with tomorrow, she called him back.

“Hello?”

“James… why is your girlfriend here with me crying and you're in Spain?” she demanded immediately. There were no times for pleasantries.

“ I -- I messed everything up. I shouldn't have said anything! She hates me Rachel, and I'm sure she'll never want to see me again.”

“I'm sure you're over exaggerating a bit. Is she upset? Yes, but that doesn't mean she hates you. Just give her a day to cool down. Trust me by the time you get your ass here to New York, she'll be fine.”

“I don't know, you didn't see the way she looked at me Rachel, I've broken her heart.”

“James McAvoy, you listen to me and you listen good! I've known this girl my entire life. I've seen her get through some hard times and good ones too. I will tell you this is the first time I have ever seen her look at someone the way she looks at you, speak about someone the way she speaks of you and dammit, she has NEVER EVER said she's been in love with anyone before you. Now, do you love Y/N?”

“Y-yes. Of course, more than anything!”

“If you love her like you say you do then get your Scottish ass on the next flight out of Spain and to New York now! Prove to her you love her no matter what! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma'am...Thank you, Rachel.”

“Yea yea, hook me up with Fassbender and we'll call it even, haha!”

“Deal, heheh, talk to you later.””

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

The next morning, you woke up a little stiff. Rachel already had coffee and toast ready.

“Mornin, sunshine!” she greeted.

“Hey,” you softly said. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“What? Why?”

“I just kind of want to be alone, and I need to start unpacking.”

“Hmm, alright. Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can take a vacation day.”

“No, no, that’s fine. I’ll be fine. I just need to be in my own bed, ya know?”

“Fair enough. Call me if you need anything at all.”

“You know I will,” you promised.

The ride home on the subway and walking seemed exhausting. Once you finally got home though, you threw the suitcases down, promising to unpack later in the day, but for now, you just wanted sleep.

You went to your bed, got undressed to t-shirt and underwear, and crawled in. You were just about to drift back to sleep when a knock at the door came. For a split second, you thought about ignoring it. Maybe it was James, if not, you didn’t care to speak to whoever it was. But, then you realized you needed to be an adult like you told him to be and face this problem. So you got up and went to the door.

“James--” you started as you opened the door.

“So the Scottish prick isn’t here, huh?”

#just my luck #james mcavoy #james mcavoy fic #james mcavoy x reader

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