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georgemackayhey · 4 years

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And I’m Coming For You

a/n: I think I’ve gotten at least a dozen vauge requests to write something for Ned over the year I’ve had this blog and I finally figured something out!

warning: This wasn’t supposed to be nsfw but it’s Ned Kelly so it got a little steamy. Proceed with age appropritae caution or else! Basically 18+

gif by @hold-fire

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The Kelly’s. You knew the family name. Heard it through gossip in the village shops. Heard men on horses declare their mission to cease one of the gang’s latest schemes. Heard ladies worry over husbands who got mixed up with the lot. But never did you imagine any of the Kelly’s to be so handsome.

But you didn’t know he was one of them… not right away. In your mind, The Kelly’s were a group of savages who hid out in the bush, waiting for passersby to torment. That’s the way all the rumors made it sound, anyway. So when a well-built man with piercing blue eyes strolled up to your stall, you didn’t second guess his status. You could hardly conjure up a polite greeting when you first laid eyes on the guy, only because of how alarmed you were by his beauty. He was sculpted by the angels, surely. You must have passed out in the deadly summer heat and a vision came to keep your comatose mind company. Till he spoke, in a voice that snapped you back to life.

“What have you got?” He asked like he was worried you wouldn’t have any of the things your booth advertised. But you understood his tone all the while. The summer was the driest yet, and the country's crops were long past suffering. You sold a farmer’s seeds, while the man was busy off bartering for more. If anyone was lucky enough to afford a bundle, the seeds still weren’t guaranteed to sprout in the dry barren world you’d found yourselves in, this year.

So with the sliver of hope you held fast to, you listed off the supplies in your sock, and avoided the man's piercing eyes as he watched you speak. When your spiel was finished, he shifted, and you pretended not to admire the way he moved- even the minuscule change in his stance seemed like a sight you were lucky to behold.

“I’ve only got these. Give me whatever they’re worth.” The guy laid two coins on your stand. They were barely worth handing over. And you’d been getting better at turning folks away, even given the circumstances, you had to eat too. But the thought of upsetting the tall brooding fella across from your stall made your stomach turn. So you gathered a reasonable collection of seeds and handed them over.

“There are too many here.” He glanced down to the bag, and then back up at you, like you’d wronged him. Like you, he had to eat too. So you added an extra few in, hoping some of the extra meant he’d surely have success.

“Take them.” You pressed, sitting back on the stool that kept you in the measly shade.

The man sighed and tightened his grip on the small sack of seeds before turning away. He gave you a nod and the flex of his structured jaw before disappearing. You noticed his hair was a bit longer in the back as he drifted away, while you tried to memorize his every move in hopes you’d better spot him again one day.

The weather started to let up after then. Like your interaction with the handsome stranger set the world to spin right, again. How silly of you, dreaming of a face you’d likely forget about by the next burning summer. But even when a few gentle breezes passed by, the heat nearly sent your mind to melt out of your ears, and you seriously considered packing up your things and hiding away till winter came.

The farmer you worked for was away longer each week, and your supply was running low. But even the most selfish and demanding customers seemed to understand though. Everyone was doing whatever they could, and most of the time that was nothing at all. In the beginning, you didn’t mind sitting around, waiting for someone to pass by. You were pleasantly occupied, and getting paid for it. But as the summer dragged on, and the community had taken to staying in, you loathed every new minute behind your stall.

Even when the barmaid brought you a cool drink, you could only smile at her thoughtfulness before regressing back to melting. Even when someone came by for some of the withering veggies you’d started trying to sell; you couldn’t be coaxed into feeling much more than dread.

Then he came back. The man with the icy eyes and choppy hair. He floated toward you with an all new vigour, like he’d known exactly what he’d come back for.

“Here.” He said, extending his long hand toward you. You straightened, and opened your palms at the command without question, though you had many.

“You gave me more than I needed, and we’ve had more than we ever had before. I must repay you.” His voice was full, and your palm was now heavy under the weight of a golden ring. An emerald set sparkling in the middle of the gaudy band, and your eye’s went wider the longer you admired the thing.

“This is a bit much for a few extra crops, don’t ya think?” You stammered and shook your head, and shoved the jewellery back toward the man who you’d lost hope of seeing again. As soon as your reach met him, the man grabbed your wrist with a lithe urgency. You watched as he took the ring from your grasp, looked back up to you, and slid the thing on your finger.

You gapped, watching the guy watch you, the feeling of his remaining grip warmer than all of summer, firmer than the ring he put on you, out of the blue.

“Isn’t it a bit early in the day to be harassing the townswomen, Kelly?” A distance voice cut in, from an officer high upon a trotting horse.

At the man's word your mind spun a mile a minute. Your blood ran cold- and then it started to boil as you noticed the flash in the eye’s of the man; The Kelly who still held your hand like a prized flower.

“You’re the only one disturbing the peace, officer. Now do ya need seeds or shall we see you on your way, then?” You spoke sternly, shooting a glare to the officer. He grumbled and tightened the reins of his horse and turned to leave, keeping an eye on your interaction for a moment longer still.

“What’s your name?” The man with sapphire eyes wondered, quickly taking back his hand yet standing still nearer than ever.

You told him and he repeated it, taking a dragging step back. And then another. You watched each other in the dry summer heat for what felt like forever.

“Ned.” He nodded. You smiled and watched him walk away with a fiercely beating heart, wondering why no one ever had a good thing to say about those Kelly’s.

A day passed, full of girlish bliss and silly daydreams bold enough to distract you from the heat. You wondered everything about Ned. Who you hadn’t thought of was the officer who seemed so eager to catch the guy in some kind of compromise. But it was the officer who came back the next day. He waited in line behind an elderly couple as you gave them what they asked for. And when they shuffled toward the closest indoors, the officer stepped up and seemed more keen on taking what it was he wanted than asking nicely for it.

Before you could so much as ask how his day was going, the guy reached past your counter, grabbed your hand and yanked you eye to eye.

“Nice ring you’ve got, here.” He glanced down to your finger in his vice grip, the ring from Ned placed proudly on the finger he himself adorned. “Too bad it’s stolen.”

“Are you implying I’m a thief?” You guffawed, trying with a sudden might to yank your hand away. Your strength was lacking, and the officer was quick to haul you away from your stand. You went fighting, cursing the man who dragged you down the block toward the police house at the end of the row. You didn’t care who might have seen from the windows of their cool shelters. You hoped somebody might have, in fact, and would race to your defence.

How dare he accuse you of taking what wasn’t yours.

“I know you saw as this ring was placed in my possession. How can you drag me in here and say I stole it?” You spat, fighting the officer’s grip all the way through the door of the jailhouse. He threw you toward the office with his name displayed on the door, but it might as well have been a cell.

“Oh, I know you didn’t steal it, las.” The officer grinned, giving your shoulder a harsh push so you sat in the chair across from his desk, as high and mighty as the horse he could usually be spotted upon. The officer leaned there, with a boot propped on the arm of the chair you’d been confined too. You gawked at the man in anger that boiled over your confusion.

“Ned Kelly stole the ring. Right from my very own pocket. He beat me bloody in a boxing match and decided on his own that my gold was his preferred prize for the attack.” He explained with a queasy smile. You started to sink in your chair, only attempting to distance yourself from the way the officer slinked closer and closer toward you.

“I want it back.” He grinned, right before you. He grabbed your hand in a gentle way that was equally as nauseating as his clawing at you had been. And then he regressed back to the only way he must have known, or prefered, ripping the ring from your finger in a way that caused you to subdue a shriek. You weren’t about to let your guard down.

“And I’ve got it back.” The officer kept his slimy grin, leaning back against the desk and sliding the ring on his smallest finger. The jewel seemed so ugly now.

“I could have done that just as easily back at your stall. But I’ve brought you here because I just have this burning feeling that, when I ask you where Ned’s gone off to, you’re going to pretend not to know. And unfortunately, you can’t leave until you tell me.”

“What?” You asked through your teeth, sitting up with an all new rage sparking inside of you.

“Tell me where that Kelly devil has run off too this week, and you can be on your way.”

“I don’t know Ned Kelly. Though it makes me curdle to admit to you I wish I did, he only gave me that ring in exchange for the seeds I sold him.”

The office chuckled darkly, slamming his foot back on the chair you started to lean too far away from to hiss your honest truth.

“That game isn’t going to work.” The officer bent so his eyes burned right into yours and you knew he was right. You also knew if you lied, and gave away some random coordinates, that Ned most likely wouldn’t be wherever you imagined he might have been, and the officer would come back to treat you much worse than he was now.

“I don’t know where he is. Your ring is back on your finger now let me go.”

“This was never about the ring, was it?” The officer cocked his head, and you realized there was no real way out of this.

“If it’s revenge you want you’re no better than a Kelly yourself.” You sneered. You’d come to reevaluate your mental image of the gang you’d only ever heard rumors about. You came to wonder if the officer was to blame for spreading most of them. But your insult was his final straw. His nails dug into your arm once more and he pulled you away from the office to a hole in the wall of the next building over.

“You can’t do this!” You shouted, trying harder than ever to escape the man's grasp. He was strong enough to throw you behind bars, and fast enough to lock them before you could stand.

“I’ll find Ned one way or another,” The officer assured. “But you’ll stay here until you speak the truth.”

You wanted to cry but the summer heat had dried you from the inside out it seemed. You lingered for a while near the bars, hoping someone would pass through the barren land and you could talk them into breaking you out. And when the sun started to go down, a breeze came to chill the evening. What small hell, being falsely prisoned in the heat and finding no shelter in the night's cold. You grew tired of worrying and sat in the empty space watching the stars decorate the horizon. If you listened closely enough you could hear the sounds of the town coming alive in the distance. You could see flickers of lanterns and hear the ruckus from the pub, and even a few horses carrying people to parties that weren’t too hot to throw at this hour.

But the sound of trots became unmistakable gallops and as you tried to imagine what was happening, the horses seemed to stall somewhere near. You heard voices and the thud of feet on the ground and the shout of the officer whose voice was grossly familiar to you now. You stood to peer from the bars, hoping to catch a glimpse of the comotion, but no sooner than you rose to your feet, someone appeared on the other side of your cell. His hair was long and black and there were keys in his hand that he jammed into the lock.

“What’s happening?” You asked, in a frightened hush. You didn’t know this man or why he’d chosen to break you out. And with the way the evening had gone, you were afraid of where it might have been going now. The man swung open the gate and waved you to freedom with a wild look in his eye. You hurried from the cell, but before you could turn in the direction of home, the sound of gunfire rang from just around the corner.

You started to scream, but the man who’d freed you pressed his hand over your mouth and demanded you stay silent with one bone chilling look. What the hell have you gotten yourself into? As you wondered what was to become of you and what you might be able to do to decide your own destiny, the deafening quiet was broken.

“Get off of her. We’re done here.” Ned Kelly approached calmly, leading a speckled horse toward where you stood. The man with dark hair let you go and followed Ned’s command to get gone. But you stood, taking the sight of him in, trying to wrap your boggled mind over what was going on. You were much too scared to ask.

He was brooding as ever, his clothes seemed a size too small and his brow seemed permanently furrowed yet it seemed like the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen.

“How’d you know I was here?” You asked, hardly having processed that you’d ended up where you had yourself.

“Someone wiser would have sold off that ring for something better,” Ned spoke, looming before you. Was his bold presence what shook the townspeople so? Was it only you who felt safe when he was near?

“You could have done the same." You pointed out.

"I gave it to you." Ned seemed to reason, in an endearing way that he didn’t even seem to realize.

"And I couldn't take it off then, could I?" You couldn’t help your small grin, considering everything.

Ned seemed to consider your words and then offered to take you home. You perhaps agreed too quickly, but you were on the back of his horse before you had time to second guess your eagerness. And though you longed to cling to Ned on the ride, you didn’t take your gentle hold on him for granted. You only hoped that once his horse rode past the mess of trees to your humble little home, that Ned would agree to stay for dinner.

You talked the guy into leaving his horse in the stable near the woods, and promised you had more than enough of an evening meal to share with him.

Ned sat quietly in the corner of your place, a glass of water in his hand. Though the evening was chilled, your fire put on to cook dinner was reminiscent of the daytime temperature. You didn’t have to do very much but mix a few things in a pot and leave it to simmer. So when your task was finished for the near future, you turned your sights to the man you’d invited in.

“You saved me.” You said, walking toward the chair Ned waited in. Your statement was a sort of thanks and a question as to why all wrapped up in one. And while you sat in the seat at his side, Ned turned his head your way but didn’t look at you.

“I also got you into trouble. I shouldn’t have mixed you up in my way of things.” Ned countered, keeping his glass of water in a tight fist and letting his eyes travel up your figure until they locked with yours.

“You didn’t. I was already pretty mixed up with your way, myself.” You couldn’t help but admit you hadn’t stopped thinking about him from the moment he showed up that first day. When he came back, you were done for. And now here he was, in your home, his sapphire eye’s gazing into yours after he’d somehow come to your rescue.

You leaned in, and when Ned didn’t move away, you kissed him. Just a slow and sweet. He didn’t kiss back, not really. He just sat frozen, like you’d stalled time. You pulled away, hoping your blush could be excused but the temperature in this shack of yours. Just the heat getting to your head, again. You rose from your chair with a meek apology, and padded toward the fire to check on the stew. You killed the flame and scooped some of the meal into bowls and toted them toward the table. When you moved to refill the pitcher of water, your mission was halted.

Ned’s fingers were around your wrist, gently yanking you closer to fill the space between the two of you. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, and you could feel his breath on your lips, his eyes fluttered away from yours like he didn’t really want to look away from you. His nose nudged yours as his free hand rose to your jaw, and then he kissed you.

It was slower and sweeter than the first time, totally unexpected. You smiled when you realized this mysterious rumored neerdowell was hardly any of the things the rumors surrounding his name made him out to be.

Because even as you snaked your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, Ned’s hold on you reamied tender.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Ned.” You chuckled, taking one of his hands and pressing his fingers around your waist. “I trust you.” You nodded gazing up to the guy who searched your eyes with the slightest furrow of his brow. And maybe it was because your hands rested there but you swore you could feel some kind of weight lift from the guys shoulders. He leaned in for another kiss that traveled to your neck. You leaned into the wall and pulled him along too, and it seemed he wasn’t afraid to hold back after then.

His lips bruised yours and his rough hands trailed toward your chest and you already seemed to float closer to heaven while his touch had yet to meet your skin.

“Let me repay you for coming to my rescue.” You sighed, hooking a finger in the hem of his trousers.

“Only if I’m to repay you in turn, and we might forever be in each other's debt.” Ned’s breath hitched in your ear, one hand daring to creep up your thigh below your dress.

Dinner went cold as you pulled Ned toward your bed. You thanked him in more ways than one, and tugged at the hair that grew longer around his neck. You watched his brilliant blue eye roll as your hips met and soon forgot how to speak in the middle of telling him how best to use his hands. Yours stayed gripping the sheet and your mind wandered and made itself up. Even though you barely knew more than rumors about Ned Kelly, you learned the truth all night long, in a way. And if one day you’d come to find a reason to nod along with the townspeople while they gossiped about the Kellys; you prayed it might be because you’d become more than familiar with Ned’s mysterious ways

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#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic #ned kelly

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themagicalreads · 4 years

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Lost and Found (Mature/Prompt)

A note before you start: Tumblr took off all my italics and I didn’t want to re-read this to put them all back in lol. So, I’m sorry. But if you want to read this with, it’s up on wattpad and AO3 @/magicalreads in my book Rising Untangled!

Fridays at the joint always pulled the biggest of crowds, and tonight wasn't an exception.

"Go get em', Goldy," Tarot slipped his hand off of Rapunzel's bare shoulder so she could pull her shawl on and fix the pins holding the two rolls on top of her head. His teeth shone bright against dark skin as he smiled proudly. "Little Moonlight’s shining star!"

Rapunzel felt a rush of red flush her cheeks at the compliment. So desperate to get off the streets, Rapunzel hadn't even expected a glance from Tarot when she walked into his joint all but two years ago. She knew she was a sight for sore eyes, but time had been wearing her down to the bone, despite her young adulthood. She'd wasted too long in a blurry blast after high school was over and done with that she'd drunken herself dry—quite literally right to the pavement. Thinking about which hole she'd be in right about now hadn't it been for the Little Moonlight made her scared to bits.

"The socs are in tonight," Tarot added just before she could push the curtain aside. "Show em' a good time."

Rapunzel smiled right back. "I always do, Daddy-O," she promised. She only vaguely remembered feeling jittery her first time dancing in front of the socs, which was a tickle in itself considering she used to be a part of their crowd. She’d learned fairly quickly that their presence was something to be revelled in; They were quieter than the Moonlight’s usual customers, and their stacks of loose dough made her want to perform at the absolute tip top of her abilities.

The crowd cheered as she slowly curled against the curtain, taking her rightful place onstage as the music roared to life. Rapunzel moved seamlessly with the trumpets flaring against soft piano. Though she'd always preferred dancing the doo-wop, there was something about jazz that ignited a spark deep inside Rapunzel. It was nostalgic, a sound to get lost in, and it was perfect for a sleazy club like this one.

Rapunzel looked up to give a rewarding look to the table of socs sitting in the corner, impossible to miss, only to lock eyes with another man standing still in the crowd. The room erupted as Mer and Poppy strolled out behind Rapunzel, but his crystal blue eyes stayed firmly on her. The nerve of him! Showing up around her all week only to ignore her—or, worse yet, disappear—each time she’d craved from him approach her. The least he could have done was introduce himself like a proper gentleman. Then again, no proper gentleman would come here, if they weren’t hangin’ with the socs. Everyone worth a dime knew that being seen in a place like the Little Moonlight as a lone social was simply asking to be treated like a lowly greaser. Thing was, this man didn’t look like he was a part of either crowd. His attire screamed social, but his attitude yelled greaser. So which in the devil was he? Rapunzel had figured out how to woo the dough out of every kind of man who walked in here, but she couldn’t figure out how to wrap her finger around this odd ball. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to wrap her finger around him. She wasn’t even sure if…

Rapunzel practically shook her head mid-dance in realization. Enough not knowing. This was her territory, and she was in control here.

Easy as cutting a smooth slice of pie, Rapunzel tuned out the prying hey, dolly's from overly cranked men and shifted all her efforts into wooing the silver-haired one from her place on stage. She moved gracefully, long hair swishing to and fro, all the while never taking her eyes away from him for more than a second. No matter how much she hated to admit it to herself, Rapunzel didn’t want him to disappear again. There was a strange curiosity to him that she needed to figure out. He was a spark in the darkness she couldn’t help to be drawn to.

“A dreamboat that one, isn’t he?” Poppy commented over the sound, catching on to Rapunzel’s motives. Over the heads of bobbing men, she caught Merida smirking at her too. Rapunzel knew they’d be asking questions at the apartment later—no sense turning back now. And besides…

Their focus was on something else now. When Rapunzel turned to look, she was surprised to see Silver Hair moving through the crowd.

Toward the stage.

Her stomach flipped and flopped, an army of butterflies erupting through her. Cool it, Raps, she told herself. You’re being ridiculous. But her heart made no attempt to listen. She strutted toward the stranger, then crouched slightly on her heels until she found herself slightly higher than eye-level.

Something glimmered in the man’s eyes, a mixture of lust Rapunzel recognized all too well, but another she found herself completely at loss about. “Crescent Moon?” He asked, referencing to her show name. Tarot had been the one to suggest the change from her previous one once he’d deemed her the star of his joint.

“The one and only,” Rapunzel purred.

He lifted a hand, revealing a fan of dough between his fingertips. “Mind if I take you to the back?”

Rapunzel eyed him up and down. He was pretty. Scrawnier than her usual customers, wearing an unbuttoned light blue and white chemise tucked into sandy-coloured pants. His hair was lightly gelled into a trunk do, an alluring white she’d only ever seen on old folks. He was mesmerizing to watch, but that didn’t stop Rapunzel from standing right back up to her full height. She felt taller than she naturally was, and not only because of the stilettos on her feet. The socs loved getting what they wanted, and the greasers preferred a cat-and-mouse chase, so what would happen if she gave someone that was neither both?

“After the show.” She told him as she walk away. Only sparing him a single glance over her shoulder proved difficult. She’d expected him to disappear by the time the girls and she were done with their dance, and he did—or so she thought. She spotted a silver head quickly after, lurking by the back hall. “Split the tips with Mer, Popsikins." Rapunzel gave her friend a wink, thinking of the doll of a shop they lived over. She didn’t need more money than what she’d earned in between her skin and underclothes. "Get yourself those rockin' shoes you were eyeing."

Poppy squealed as Rapunzel walked away, right past Silver Hair and into the hall. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked. Neither of them said a word until she pushed through a door. The man shut it behind them, taking one, two steps toward her. He stopped just before where she sat on the arm of the sofa. “Nineteen.” Was all he said. Rapunzel expected more to come, but he simply stared at her as if she was supposed to understand what he’d meant. “Dollars or minutes?”

The man shook his head. “Your age. You can be more than nineteen.” Rapunzel shifted. “Twenty-two, actually.” It felt strange, saying that; She didn’t usually reveal her age to customers. Not that they ever asked, anywho. All they ever came for was a dance to make them forget their lousy lives outside of the club. More than a dance, if they were trusted to keep it under the table. The fuzz hadn’t caught em’ yet, and Tarot had no intention of getting a shut down. “Just a year younger than me,” the man noted. “How’d a sweet girl like you end up in a place like this?”

“A sweet girl like—?” Rapunzel bit her tongue. Tarot’s rules included no talk backs, unless our fella’s were pushin’. And this man wasn’t even coming close to pushin’. "It's a gig,” she said instead. “And I enjoy it, in all truthfulness."

“But why?”

A laugh escaped Rapunzel’s lips. “Are you writing a book?”

Silver Hair shrugged. “I guess you can say that.”

Rapunzel shook her head slightly, mesmerized by his straight tone; No added lah-dee-dah lilted his voice. “You’ve such an odd way with words,” she said. “I didn’t mean it literally, though, if you are, congratulations. You’re just askin’ too many questions, is all.” Rapunzel cleared her throat when no reply was given. She motioned to the sofa, giving the man her best heavy-lidded, green-eyed look. “So, whatcha’ waitin’ for, then? Come on, have a seat.”

But the man closed his eyes briefly and breathed a soft sort of laugh. Then, he took a step back, offering a hand out to her. “Dance with me.”

Rapunzel lifted her brows in surprise. “You’re asking for a doo-wop?”

“Something a little slower,” a playful smirk grew on the man’s lips. “With a kiss, if you’re willing.”

A flush rushed to her cheeks, thankfully hidden by the dimmed yellow lights in the room. “The Little Moonlight doesn’t do no kissin’.”

“Even with special cases?”

Rapunzel breathed a short laugh and took the hand still being offered. She found herself being pulled tight against Silver Hair’s chest. “Alright,” she decided. “Razz my berries. What makes you a special case, mister…?”

“Jackson Overland,” he was quick to answer. “But call me Jack.” Hands slipped over her waist as Rapunzel lay her arms loosely around Jack’s neck. “And let’s see… I’m handsome, you like me, and I’m leaving tonight. I’ve already been here too long.”

“Leavin’ where?”

“Are you writing a book?”

Rapunzel couldn’t help but laugh. “I see. Peggin’ my own words against me. That’s not very gentlemanly of you.”

“Who says I’m a gentleman?” Jack spun her around, dropping her into a smooth dip. He brought his head down to her until his lips were but an inch from her own. The heat curling against her mouth warmed other parts of her. He dipped down slightly more, coming closer and closer, until he suddenly pulled her right back up to their earlier swing.

Rapunzel felt breathless. “Actor,” she mumbled playfully. But all she received from Jack was a frown.

“Slang?” He guessed after a moment.

“For a show off, yeah.” Rapunzel pushed Jack down, suddenly, right onto the sofa she knew they’d moved in front of. She fell swiftly with him, landing right on his lap. “Don’t cha leave the house?”

Jack grinned, hands tightening over her hips ever so slightly. “Haven’t been home in a while, actually.”

Rapunzel shifted on his lap, earning a pleasured groan in return. “Maybe this is a good time to go back.”

Jack grinned lazily, chuckling like she’d just told a panic-and-a-half. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Rapunzel questioned. “Everyone should enjoy being home.”

Jack was quiet for a while as she rubbed her hands soothingly over his neck and shoulders. She couldn’t understand why he felt as intoxicating as he did. “I… Got in trouble,” he said finally, glancing her down and up again. “For stealing something and using it to travel.”

Rapunzel slipped a hand up to his cheek, petting her thumb over his skin. Her voice came out soft. “Why don’t cha bring it back?”

Jack leaned into her touch, whether out of consciousness or not, Rapunzel didn’t know. “I’ll be in a lot more trouble if do.”

She brushed the curl away from Jack’s forehead as he spoke, watching as it fell back into place. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“I stole the only copy they successfully made, Rapunzel. It took them a year before they could make a replica. Trust me, it’s as bad as I think.”

Rapunzel stiffened at the mention of her name. No one knew her as someone outside of Crescent Moon here, save from the crew. “How did you—?”

A flash of hurt suddenly passed in Jack’s eyes. He looked away as soon as he caught her looking. “It doesn’t matter.” He said. Except, it did. He’d known her name all along! Was it a slip up? Did he even mean to let her know he knew?

“Of course it matters!” Rapunzel exclaimed. This had never happened before. She didn’t know what to do anymore, now that she’d lost her invisibility. Rapunzel tried to step off of Jack, but his hands kept her still. “Wait!” He said. “Stay. Please. Let me… Let me explain.”

Reluctantly, she obliged. “Alrighty, then. Go on.”

Jack closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the sofa for a few seconds. He looked her right back in the eyes when he was done his thinking. “It took me years to find you again. You really don’t remember me, Punz?”

Punz. Something about the new nickname jogged at her memory, but nothing came forward.

“We met in 1951. You were seventeen; I was twenty. You were working at this diner, just about to graduate, and—When I stole the porter, it was an accident. I got myself in with the wrong gang, and I didn’t wanna go to jail. I didn’t know where to go so I… I pressed every button on the porter ended up jumping—right into that damn diner.”

Rapunzel was shaking her head now, refusing to remember. It felt the same as if a word she couldn’t pinpoint—but knew she knew—was hangin’ at the tip of her tongue. Rhona’s Diner. She never thought much about why she always took the long walk to the Little Moonlight.

“They caught us in ’64,” Jack continued. “You’d never seen the ocean, and you were finally ready to jump into the future, even if it was just by over a decade. They appeared right when we were about to—” He cut his gaze down, suddenly, red tinting his pale skin. But, despite the zorros, Rapunzel was surprised to hear how choked up his next words were getting. “We got separated, running. You didn’t know how to use the porter, so I had it.” She felt his finger play affectionately with the curls falling over her hips. He couldn’t look her in the eyes, but Rapunzel saw the pain written over him nonetheless. “I watched them take you, Punz. I watched them take you away from me.”

Rapunzel straightened in his lap as she took in a gulp of air. “If any of this is true, then what in the heaven’s am I doin’ here sittin’ in this joint?”

“They must’ve taken you in for questioning, probably about me,” Jack answered. “And then they obviously dropped you right back in your timeline like I’d hoped. Didn’t know why I was surprised to find out your memories about me were wiped. Those assholes.” He added, lost in thought.

“That’s why you weren’t approaching me all week,” Rapunzel realized. “You were waitin’ to see me run up to you all over the moon to have you back.”

Jack nodded. “I couldn’t stand talking to you like none of it ever happened.” Rapunzel realized that her heart was quickening as she looked into his crystal blue eyes. She’d felt drawn to him from the moment she’d seen him walk by, something that had never happened to her before. And then when he appeared at the club…

It dawned on her, suddenly. Those two years she’d thought she’d lost to parties and shenanigans—they weren’t a blurred mess of alcohol-induced amnesia. She’d spent them with him. Workin’ at the diner. Travelling to the past.

Falling in love.

It dawned on her just as the fuzz appeared out of thin air behind them. She only had time to twist and catch Tarot’s apologetic eye before they lifted guns flashing bright blue sparks, and forced her and Jack into bad night’s sleep.

#jackunzelfs20 #jackunzel #jackunzel fanfic #jackunzel prompt #1950s au #time travel #jackunzel au #rise of the brave tangled dragons #wattpad #jackunzel month

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snowfall-fanfictions · 4 years

Text

Ice, Fire, and Shadow

FFN link

Ao3 link

A dragon, a soldier and an assassin. When Elsa's missing and Arendelle has no one else to turn to, teaming those three up seems to be the answer - if only they didn't try to kill each other. Crossover with CallenAmakuni, @snowdragon4, and @snowfall-in-summer.

“I’m not paid enough for this.”

A long sigh heaved from deep within Garret’s chest while he ran a hand through his crimson hair. He had been standing in front of the door for little more than half an hour – the ants he felt walking all over his legs were starting up a colony, apparently. He brought his gaze down to his shifting feet.

“Could have put out a couple chairs, at least,” he said, his annoyance growing with every minute he spent fidgeting on his spot, waiting for a colonel that might very well have left home.

The latter had asked for him, yet he still didn’t know where, when and for what. Garret had resorted to waiting in front of his office and had considered knocking once or twice.

“Better not to try my luck.”

The colonel had always been considerate, but Garret’s teammates always told him stories of subordinates getting in disproportionate trouble for the tiniest mistakes. When hierarchy was involved, safe wasn’t only the better choice. It was the only choice. He finally clasped his hands behind his back and dejectedly decided to wait some more – he had already gone that far.

Standing alone with his mind, his thoughts inevitably went back to the fiasco.

“God-freaking-dammit.”

The instructions were simple: he wasn’t supposed to use the asset outside direct orders. It had more or less been a tacit accord of his strike team’s commander with the higher staff and he knew that. Then why did he have to disobey that command the only time it was explicitly specified? Why did he use it the only time when it was not only unnecessary but also detrimental to the mission? Why was he so stupid?

He angrily clapped his boot on the cold wood beneath him in a tentative attempt to evacuate some of his frustration – he couldn’t let his superior see that he was angry at himself. And of course, that same superior had chosen that exact moment to open his office’s door.

“Got something under your foot, soldier?” the colonel asked with a lifted eyebrow. His proud bushy mustache was one privilege among the plethora of perks his rank inferred. Among those perks was the ability to reprimand his men. “Want some rocks to step on?”

Garret immediately stood upright and saluted sharply. “No, sir. Squished a bug, sir.” Bluff seemed to be his strategy.

The colonel kept his eyebrow up. “Do I want to ask you to lift your boot, soldier?”

The strategy was quickly proving ineffective.

“N-No, sir.”

The colonel breathed a sigh that made his entire body sink down. “Come in, son,” he said, stepping aside to leave Garret enough space to go into his small office. The room was well-lit, perfectly organized and without any embellishment. A fitting setting for the man. The colonel sat at his desk and clasped his hands together over it. Garret stayed on his feet – he hadn’t been invited to sit.

“Do you know why I called you in?” the older man said once he finished examining him.

“I have an idea about it, sir.”

“All right, then. That saves you some uncomfortable small talk. You know you fucked up.”

“I do, sir.”

“And you know how sensitive it is that your…abilities…remain a secret.”

“Yes, sir.”

The colonel dropped his arms to rest on the table. His gaze visibly hardened. “Then you’ll understand our decision to send you away for a little while.”

Garret’s felt his heart fall. “Send- Send me away, sir?”

The colonel somberly nodded. “Exactly. For at least four months.”

“Two months? What am I gonna do for four bloody months?” Garret blurted out without thinking, forgetting the protocol in the process.

The sanction was instantaneous. “Watch your tongue, soldier, or I’ll make it a whole year.”

Garret immediately got his bearings back, realising how out of line he was. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Officially, you’re going to investigate a creature sighting in foreign territory,” the colonel explained once his glare softened a bit. “Unofficially, I don’t give a cow’s tit what you do. You’re to leave the country tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? B-But I have to say farewell to…”

“It’s an order, son. Order from him,” the colonel finished with an insistent glance. “I wouldn’t discuss anything further. The boat’s waiting. Report at London Port first thing in the morning. See you in two months. Dismissed.”

The words were final, ringing in Garret’s ears like the blunt impact of the hammer that had just fallen.

“Un-Understood, sir.”

As he turned around to leave, he heard the colonel’s normal voice, the one that sounded warm and welcoming, the one he would usually never use when wearing his uniform. “Sorry, soldier. Wish we could have handled this any differently.”

“Yeah. I know,” Garret answered before closing the door behind him.

—:0:—

The morning’s atmosphere was chilly, humid and heavy. The port was starting to wake up even though the sun was still nowhere to be seen, its light replaced instead by the faint glow of smelly oil lamps. Bringing his coat closer to his body, Garret adjusted his small satchel over his shoulder. He sighed when he noticed the dense fog escaping out of the sailors’ mouths, lifting up to blend into the vapor of the buzzing docks’ heavy machinery. He’d have to look like he was feeling the cold.

“All right, fellas?” he greeted when he reached the hull of the vessel he had been assigned to.

Nobody answered him, but a young one disappeared into the deck and came back accompanied by a man with a hat that seemed to be the captain. “Cheers, mate. You the special cargo?” that same man called.

Garret rolled his eyes. Of course, they would call him that. “That’d be me, yeah.”

“Come on-board,” he said as he threw a rope ladder his way. “We got instructions to get you out of here.”

Garret climbed in, quickly getting used to the slight swaying of the ship. He could tell she was military in design, civilian in aspect. “So where are we taking her?” were his first words.

The captain removed his hat and started wiping the dust off its edges. “You are not takin’ anythin’ anywhere. You just sit tight. We are droppin’ you off where the brass told us to drop you off.”

Garret’s shoulders slightly slumped down. The trip was going to be fun. “And where would that be?” he asked.

The captain put on his hat again, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “A small place up North. They said it’s called Arendelle.”

—:0:—

Eryn downed another tankard of ale. This was at least his third one today. He always found himself back in Karnisvarne after each successful kill. This time it was some medium ranking general in the Southern Isles army. He couldn’t be bothered to remember the details, he normally stopped caring about that after he was paid. And he was handsomely rewarded for the kill, even securing a bonus for shifting the blame onto some fresh private. It may not have been the most honorable thing, but money is indeed money.

He was still in his travelling attire; his brown travelling cloak draped over his shoulders like a fancy cape, covering his plain looking shirt. His boots were still caked with dirt from the quick escape he had to make when he put a bullet between the general’s eyes. Eryn’s raven black hair was windswept from when he and Magni bolted out of the camp to the nearest port. Now in the calm of the tavern, Eryn looked like a disheveled mess compared to everyone else

Eryn sat at the bar, carefully studying the other patrons. There were only a few other people in the tavern along with him. Everyone else was busy toiling out in the fields for meager pay, or up in the city for some festival. Eryn could care less about what happened in Arendelle proper, since they seemed not to care about anyone but themselves. He nursed another tankard in his hands while he listened to some of the conversations happening.

“There’s a nip in the air. Not good for crops…”

“Lyin’ whore. Kid obviously ain’t mine.”

“Bullshit! Snowmen can’t talk…”

“Ya hear about the queen bringing in one of them ‘Dragon Knights?’”

Eryn perked up at that last conversation. Dragons? You have my attention. Two men were seated a few seats away from him at the bar, hunched over with their own tankards. Eryn leaned in closer to listen in on their conversation.

“Hell’s a dragon knight?” One of the men asked.

“Agh. Warriors from buttfuck ‘who cares’,” his friend replied. “One of ‘em’s here for the festival.”

“What’re they doing here?”

“Probably for the queen, but who cares? Freaks of nature the lot of them. The whore’s magic could easily make her a target for the likes of them…”

Eryn contemplated this information for a moment. If the Dragon Knights were renowned warriors, what would people think of a man who could kill a Dragon Knight? That’s when a spark of inspiration hit him like-

A Dragon Knight?! Are you out of your mind, Odrikson?! a familiar voice rang in his head.

Eryn pulled his dagger out of its sheath. It was an ancient looking blade, with an ebony grip and a rough looking edge. Etched into it were a series of runes which currently glowed bright red.

C’mon! An opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime! he mentally retorted.

That’s what at least three of your predecessors said before they all met their ends. Dragon Knights are not meant to be taken lightly, Odrikson, they-

How hard can it be?

THEY ARE DRAGONS, BOY!

Bah, that’s probably just some propaganda to scare folks into respecting them. Like ‘Winged Hussars.’ And since when have you been an expert in ancient knighthood orders?

Since when have you been an idiot? I assure you, that title is not simply honorary. If you try to fight a Dragon Knight, you will die!

You said that for at least three different jobs we took.

Yes, and if it weren’t for me, you would be dead! Besides, didn't we just get done with a kill not a few hours ago?

Well, Adrenaline is still pumping. I guess.

Odrikson….

Bah, quit blabbering. We’re off to Arendelle proper.

Eryn sheathed the dagger and got up from the bar. He fished around in his pocket for a few gold coins and made his way out of the tavern. This was a perfect opportunity! If he killed this “Dragon Knight,” the whole damned world would know who Eryn Odrikson was. It would be impossible to go anywhere and find someone not talking about how a master assassin killed such a prestigious warrior. Eryn wasn’t quite sure what a dragon knight looked like, but he was certain he would know as soon as he saw one.

Entering the stables, Eryn saddled up Magni, his horse, and readied up. With the shout of “Magni! Beveg seg!” the black stallion darted out of the stables onto the north road.

That Dragon Knight is mine, Eryn thought to himself as Karnisvarne disappeared behind him.

—:0:—

The Great Thaw Festival Observance, or GTFO as Princess Anna put it, was to be a new tradition in Arendelle after the events that took place one year ago today.�� After what seemed like hours of pleading, Queen Elsa finally relented to her sister’s wishes to host the festivities. The contrast in the sisters' personalities had never been more evident than when the festival was decided on. Elsa saw it as the day she lost control and the kingdom found out about her secrets, Anna saw it as the day they became sisters again and the gates to their kingdom had been opened.

Either way she looked at it, Elsa couldn’t help but feel a little excited about the upcoming events. Even her advisors were looking forward to it, and they were never happy about anything.

Looking over the fjord filled to the brim with ships, Elsa took a few deep breaths of the ocean air, allowing its calming and salty breeze to settle her nerves.

I can do this. This is for Anna. Anna and I, but still mostly Anna. As much as she wanted to enjoy the gates being open, she still wouldn’t be what most people would call a “people person”. She left that to her sister.

“There you are!” Speaking of which. Elsa felt the arms of her sister wrap around her shoulders. “Are you excited about the festival?”

Elsa’s eyes drifted from the harbor to the town square where her people were setting up banners, food, tables with goods ready to be sold, and an all around merry atmosphere.

A smile ghosted her lips. “As excited as I’ll ever be.”

Anna gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Oh don’t be like that. This is gonna be a blast and you know it.”

Elsa barked a laugh. “You're just saying that because you're excited for yet another party.”

“Well, the gates are open and we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

Elsa reached up and grabbed her sister's arm tenderly. “I know, and little by little we're making up for it.”

“Then let’s go!” Grabbing her by the arm, she tugged, pulling her sister through the castle at top speed and Elsa’s arm from its socket. Before her brain could register what was happening, she found herself in the castle courtyard still being towed behind her sister.

Suddenly Anna stopped. “OH! Before we go too far I have to show you what me and Gerda made.”

“Gerda and I,” Elsa corrected.

“No.” Anna pointed to herself in an exaggerated fashion. “ME! And Gerda.”

Elsa’s expression was as blank as stone and with a deadpan expression she responded. “That joke never gets old.” Anna disappeared back into the castle and with impressive speed, returned only a few moments later.

“We had a bunch of this made up and are being hung around the city.” It was an exquisite banner made from gold, green and purple fabrics with stitchings of the letters GTFO. “What do you think?”

Elsa tilted her head. As much as she loved the banner and her sister’s creative talents, something about it seemed off. Unable to think of it she gave her sister a large wide smile. “It’s beautiful.”

Squealing excitedly, Anna all but sprinted into the town, Elsa making sure to keep her arms behind her back so that Anna didn’t pull them off.

Sure enough the banners were being hung throughout Arendelle, and no matter how many of them she saw, Elsa couldn’t remember what it was that was off about them.

“Good work guys!” she heard Anna say. Kristoff, Sven and Olaf were helping hang the banners over a few of the consignment tents. While Anna gave the boys a hand -and by giving a hand meant barked orders about how they were doing it wrong- Elsa meandered through the town. She nodded and smiled to the various merchants, townsfolk, children, and those visiting from other countries.

After exchanging a few words with someone there from France, out of the corner of her eye she spotted an old friend wandering through the square. She almost didn’t recognize him dressed in a dark green suit, a high collared shirt with a tie, grey trousers and nice black leather shoes. Even his dark brown hair was combed to the side. Had it not been for the glowing teal necklace he wore, she wouldn’t have known it was Drake Daniels, Dragon Knight.

She excused herself from the French dignitary, and made her way to the dragon warrior.

He held his arms behind his back as he aimlessly meandered, clear that he was either lost or wasting time pretending to be interested in what was going on around him. Luckily for him Elsa was closing in, giving him a reprieve from his feigned interests.

He bowed at the waist with his hand over his heart. “Her Majesty honors me with her presence.”

She chuckled at his sarcastic, teasing tone, and with a curtsy responded. “You should be so honored.” He laughed as he stood up straight, his fingers casually tugging at his collar. “Um, what are you wearing?” Elsa asked.

He looked at himself like he had done something wrong. “A suit? Am I not supposed to wear one?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, no, no. It’s just I’ve never seen you so, dressed up?”

He released a breath of relief. “Well. This is a festival. I don’t see the need to be geared up in all my hunting gear. Although,” he lifted his suit a bit to show a belt littered with a variety of pouches, “I never leave the house unprepared.”

“Ha. So much for no hunting gear.”

“Hey! I said ALL my hunting gear. This is only some of it.”

“Some of what?” Seeing that Elsa was chatting with someone, Anna had removed herself from her supervising duties to see what her sister was up to. Her mouth dropped with surprise and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Drake! It’s so good to see you.”

He returned a gentle friendly hug. “You too, princess.”

“When did you get here?” she asked when they stepped away from each other.

“Well, actually I arrived a few days ago, but I kept myself out of the way so as to not interrupt anything you ladies were doing. And yes, I flew, no boats for me please.”

“Well neat! Now that you're here, you can help us hang these.” Drake looked at the banner she had flashed to him and his smile changed to a twisted, uncomfortable grimace. “What? What is it?”

“Um, heh, you do know what GTFO means right?”

Anna shook her head. “The Great Thaw Festival Observance?” Drake sucked in a breath through his teeth, before leaning forward to whisper into her ear. Anna’s expression changed from confused to downright horrified. “Oh god! KRISTOFF, TAKE THE BANNERS DOWN!!” She sprinted to stop him, leaving Elsa to watch her with her brows lowered.

“What was that?”

Drake couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll tell you as we help her take those things down.”

Just as he took his first step, he stopped when he felt a tickle in the back of his neck. He was a monster hunter, who knew never to ignore those hairs. He threw a quick glance at his surroundings, his ears and nose twitching.

This is still a bad idea, Odrikson.

The voice was faint, ghostly, almost ethereal but with a rasp and menacing tone.

Hush, I’m concentrating.

This one was less otherworldly, more grounded but no less hostile. Drake furrowed his brows. “Your Majesty, I’m going to have to check on something real quick.”

Elsa simply shrugged in response. “As you wish,” she answered. “But first, tell me what those lette-” She turned around, noticing the surprising absence of the Dragon Knight. “Huh. Where did he go?”

—:0:—

Drake crossed the main square, the outer city’s rim, then the first glades, and as fast as he moved he was no less on edge. He walked deep into the woods, the two voices following him with impressive stealth. He had to control his pace so as to not go too fast and lose them, or two slowly and alert them.

Where do you think he’s going?

Did mortals get dumber over the millennia or am I just cursed with you?

You know what they say. You can't land a shot you don't take.

I'm sure they say lots of things. You know what they also say? Listen to the Lord of Shadows before doing something reckless.

What intrigued Drake most was the clear absence of footsteps. If it weren’t for the voices exchanging quips every now and then, he wouldn’t have detected them. He stopped in the middle of a clear and open meadow far enough away from the kingdom and turned around.

“Is there something you want from me?” he called loudly.

He’s talking to himself, now. Pff, what a nutjob.

I’m not going to dignify that remark with an answer.

A vein popped on Drake’s forehead at the jab. “You two might as well show yourselves.”

Wait. Two?

“Yeah. Two. The demon and the guy who’s stupid enough to follow me.”

What a surprise.

He can hear me?

“Yes, I can, “ Drake huffed in annoyance. “Now, we gonna do this or what?”

A shadow slithered on the barks, jumping from tree to tree. It approached rapidly, stopping a few feet away from Drake before briskly lifting off the ground, transforming into a black leathered young man holding a dagger in his right hand in a reversed grip. “Your head,” he hissed.

With that, he leaped with incredible speed, aiming at Drake’s neck. The latter barely had time to register that he had moved before he leaned away and felt a vicious snarl below his right ear and his suit ripping out from over his shoulder. He jumped away with a swift step, holding the location where the blade had apparently scratched his skin.

“Okay, first off, this is my only suit that you just tore. So, thanks for that. And what’s this about wanting to kill me?”

The young man slowly walked to the side while twirling his ebony blade between his fingers. “No hard feelings, boy. This is business. When your head rolls to my feet, your reputation will only add to the reverence of my name.”

Drake waited a moment before his head lowered in a “seriously” stare. “I'm sorry, I’m a little slow here. So you’re attacking me... to become famous?”

See?! Even HE knows how stupid your plan is.

Shut up! I’m in the middle of the pre-fight banter.

Drake didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, who are you?”

Eryn slightly puffed his chest out. “Eryn Odrikson! Master assassin and your executioner.”

Drake blinked a few times. “Okay maybe you should kill me, cuz I’ve never heard of you.” He removed his hand from the wound on his shoulder, noting the small specks of blood. “Although this is concerning.” He narrowed his eyes at the dagger in Eryn’s hand. He had never seen anything like it before, nor the writing on the metal, but if it was talking it couldn’t be good.

Drake examined his attacker. “Well, I’ll cut you a deal. Leave now and I won’t kick your ass back to wherever you came from.”

Eryn sneered. “Yeah, how ‘bout—“

—yes!

“—no.”

Drake heaved a sigh. Looking over his shoulder at the kingdom, he knew he really didn’t have time to deal with this, so he might as well end it quickly. “Alright then. There’s no honor in this, but just so you know, you were warned.”

With that, Drake bent forward. The necklace he wore glowed and he let it engulf him in it’s pure blue. He felt his wings grow, his fangs bare and his throat burn. He let out a deafening roar, lifting his now thick and long head to the heavens.

And he’s a dragon now.

I guess this DRAGON Knight is full of surprises.

Why didn’t you tell me he could actually turn into one?!?

The assassin plunged to the side to avoid a spray of ungodly blue-hot fire that left only carbonised grass in its wake.

I know this might sound obvious, but do not let the fire touch you.

Gee, thanks for the advice!

Eryn darted forward at his top speed, avoiding another fiery breath and closing the distance with the dragon’s belly.

Is it...glowing?

Now is not the time, Odrikson!

He prepared a strike, cocking his arm back and twisting his feet to accumulate enough force behind the hit. However, Drake interrupted his attempt in an instant and Eryn had to dodge the heavy and scaly tail that stomped the location he had been in a fraction of a second before. He continued dashing back, closely avoiding a rapid claw aiming at his legs and parrying a hit of that same tail that sent sparks in the air and him flying away. He glided a bit on the slippery soil when he landed, bringing himself low and at the ready should another attack come his way.

I don’t care what it takes, we’re doing it. We’re bringing it down.

It’s a dragon, you moron. You think YOU can take it down?

"Oh, you're gonna burn," the dragon boomed in his enhanced voice before he opened his mouth and sparkles started flying dangerously around it.

Before they could both unleash their wrath, they instinctively brought a claw and a dagger to their sides to deflect arrows that had been aiming at their heads. The two projectiles softly landed in the middle of the space between them. Examining them with curious eyes, they both noticed the pale reflection they were emitting. They were made of crystal ice.

The dragon and the assassin whirled their heads to their left, where a strange man wearing a large maroon coat and a simple traveler’s garb stood with his right arm outstretched. Among the light mist that was surrounding him, his crimson hair stuck out from afar.

A frozen spear appeared in his hand almost instantaneously. He gave it a quick twirl and planted it in the ground below him with a resonating thud.

“Hello there,” Garret simply greeted with a smile. “And here I thought the colonel was making a monkey out of me. Mind if I join in?”

A/N: CallenAmakuni: Hello and first of all thanks for reading! This has been a blast to write - I had lots of fun - and I hope you enjoyed it. We each wrote a part of this chapter and the blend is IMO very harmonious, so I’m very proud of it and us!

Now, a few precisions for those of you who are already familiar with Patience and Time. The Garret you see here is not the same one as the one in PaT. This is an AU - from an AU, yeah, but still - where he is younger and never went to Arendelle before. Everything that happens here will have no repercussions on PaT. See this as a rather self-indulgent Avengers-style crossover where we have fun with our characters.

And if you haven’t already, please go check Snowfall’s Beware The Frozen Heart (both on AO3 and FFN) and Bearhow’s Hungry Moon (on FFN only for now), I assure you it’ll be worth your while!

We’re really excited to bring you what’s coming next. Thanks again, and see you next time!

A/N: Snowfall_In_Summer: I agree, this was incredibly fun to write!

Likewise, for those familiar with “Beware the Frozen Heart,” This is a non canon story to that fic. The Eryn here isn’t the same Eryn that’s in BtFH. If Garret and Drake interest you, check out CallenAmakuni’s Patience and Time and Bearhow’s Hungry Moon series (Like CallenAmakuni said, Hungry Moon is on FFN only for now. Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13314313/1/Hungry-Moon)

Hope you enjoyed this little experiment!

A/N: Bearhow

Bearhow here!

I’d like to echo what my partners in crime have already said m. This was a blast and it's only going to get more amazing as the story goes on. Also this is a different continuity from “Hungry Moon” and “the Snow queen's champion”, but Drake does know our favorite Arendellians.

Enjoy the show!

#original character #frozen fanfiction #OC collab #Eryn Odrikson #Drake Daniels #Garret #blood tw

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thatfanficstuff · 5 years

Text

So Pretty

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Jerk in the grocery store, polyamorous relationship, fluff

A/N: This is for @just-add-butter who was my assigned Valentine. Hope you like the fic lovey. And you have one more small thing coming in a bit. This is part of @teamcap4bucky‘s Valentine Moodboard Challenge. Thank you for hosting!

***

There were few chores that you despised more than grocery shopping. It wasn’t so bad when it was just for you, but you lived with the Avengers. Most of the time you ordered the groceries and picked them up but you’d returned early from a mission and the fridge and cupboards were nearly bare.

When you headed out to the store, you’d intended to shop for your apartment only. That was enough of a task when you lived with two super soldiers and their increased metabolism. Once your teammates heard where you were going, you’d had one request after another until you were shopping for everyone. You’d agreed on the condition that Tony foot the bill. You could have covered it on your own, but that was beside the point. Being a superhero paid surprisingly well and your boys both had more money than they knew what to do with after receiving compensation from the government thanks to Tony’s well-paid attorneys.

Bucky and Steve had taken pity on you and come with you to do the shopping and you’d divided the list up so you could get done faster. You were in the produce aisle as you didn’t trust anyone else to make quality choices. You were comparing the list to your cart to see what other fruits and vegetables you needed when someone interrupted.

“That’s a lot of produce you’ve got there.”

You glanced to the man that had spoken and gave him a tight smile. “Well, it’s meant to feed a lot of people.”

“Do you own a restaurant or something? I bet you do. You look like a chef.” You blinked a couple of times at that. Just what did a chef look like, you wondered.

“Nope. Not a chef.” You shook your head once to emphasize your point and went back to checking your list.

“You look very familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

You suppressed a sigh and looked back to the man. He was handsome enough you supposed with close cropped blonde hair and the shadow of a beard on a square jaw, but you didn’t recognize him. “I don’t think so, sorry.”

“No. I’m sure I know you,” he insisted and stepped closer to you.

You arched a brow and pressed your lips into a thin line. This guy couldn’t take a hint. “Perhaps you do, but I don’t know you and I have shopping to do. If you’ll excuse me.” Being an Avenger meant you were a public figure whether you liked it or not so you tried to be polite whenever possible, but this guy was annoying you.

You turned your back to him as you counted apples and oranges. A hand grasped your elbow and you froze. No way was this guy that stupid. But as you turned slowly, you saw it was indeed the same man. “Did you just touch me?” You pitched your voice so it was louder than it had been, but not so loud you’d be overheard. Unless you happened to be shopping with a couple of super soldiers that were attuned to the sound of your voice, that is.

The man in front of you frowned. “I’m just trying to get your attention that’s all. It’s rude to turn your back on someone when they’re talking to you.”

“It’s also rude to force someone to talk to you when they clearly don’t want to. I think perhaps you need a refresher course in manners.” You crossed your arms over your chest and arched a brow as you spoke to him.

He laughed, a deep rumbling sound that rolled up from his belly. He evidently found you amusing. “And who’s going to give it to me? You?”

“Ordinarily, yes. But as I said I have shopping to do.” You shifted your gaze from him to the men behind him. “This man needs to learn to leave a lady alone when she’s not interested.”

“That so?” Steve said, his blue eyes sparking with anger. He knew you were fully capable of handling yourself, which made it that much more satisfying when you let him do it for you.

Hearing Steve’s deep voice, the man turned and his eyes went wide as he took in your soldiers. “Now listen fellas—”

“I don’t think he wants to talk to us, Steve. Perhaps we should escort him outside and have a discussion about boundaries.” The wicked grin that accompanied Buck’s statement had you smiling.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Steve tossed an arm around the man’s shoulders to steer him toward the door. They wouldn’t actually hurt him, but they’d scare him enough that he might think twice about the way he treats women.

“Hurry back, boys. We’ve got shopping to finish,” you instructed as you grabbed the front of the cart they’d left behind and pulled it after you so you could keep filling both of them.

“Yes, dear,” came in unison as they headed outside with their new friend.

“That was…fantastic,” a voice said, catching your attention. You glanced up to find a petite woman staring between you and the front of the store with wide eyes. “That guy’s a jerk. He’s always bothering me when I come in here.”

You grinned at her. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that any more by the time the boys are finished.”

She nodded as if still in a bit of a daze. “Are they both with you? I mean are you with them? I mean—I’m sorry, that’s probably none of my business.”

You heard Steve and Buck talking and laughing as they came back into the store and you turned to smile at them. Catching your eye, they both smiled back and your insides went warm as they always did when they turned that attention on you. “Yeah, they’re mine,” you said as you turned back to her. “They were just so pretty I couldn’t decide so I kept them both.” You gave a little shrug of your shoulders.

She returned your smile as the boys reclaimed their cart. Arms wrapped around you from behind and you knew without checking that it was Bucky. By this point, you could tell them apart blindfolded. You knew this for a fact after they got bored one night and decided to test you. He nestled his face into your neck and pressed a kiss just below your ear. “Making friends, doll?”

“Actually, the guy you got rid of has been harassing her as well,” you explained.

Steve pushed his cart up until it was even with yours and he leaned over to give you a kiss. When he pulled away, he turned his attention to the other woman. “I don’t think you’ll need to be worrying about him anymore.”

“Sorry to hurry off, but we have ice cream,” Bucky said nudging you forward.

You turned to look at him. “I told you to get that last so it’s not all melty. I hate that.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t get ours yet. Just Clint’s and Sam’s.”

You chuckled as you shook your head. Of course. You glanced between the carts. While you hadn’t gotten everything on the list, you had enough here to last for a couple of days. “Go grab ours then let’s get out of here before you guys cause any more trouble.”

Bucky took over pushing your cart and huffed a laugh. “Yeah, we’re the ones causing trouble.”

Steve grinned at you as he followed behind Buck. “You do realize that we chase guys off from you nearly every time we go out?”

You shrugged as you grasped his arm and leaned your head against it while you walked. “What can I say? I’m a catch.”

Both men laughed and Steve was still chuckling as he leaned over to kiss the top of your head. “That you are, doll.”

As you slid into a line, Bucky turned and motioned for you to come to him. You did, resting your head against his chest as his arms wrapped around you. “Thanks for keeping us, Y/N.”

Your face heated slightly and you turned so you were buried more tightly against his chest. “Heard that, did you?”

There was a sound of agreement from both men. “I don’t know how I feel about being called pretty,” Steve admitted.

You shrugged. “Then I suppose you should have tried harder to be ugly.”

Their laughter surrounded you. And there, in the middle of the afternoon, as you waited in line at the supermarket, you were with the men you loved and you couldn’t have been happier.

***

Marvel: @evyiione @gabriellewritermua @reblogger-not-a-blogger @youclickedthislink

All the Things: @swanky-batman @rissyrapp20 @startrekkingaroundasgard @spooookyscary @taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @collette04 @shatteredabby @laneygthememequeen

#stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers #avengers imagine #stucky imagine #teamcap4buckyvalentines #valentinemoodboardfun

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babbushka · 5 years

Note

G prompt with my sweet southern teddy bear Clyde. Thanks! 💕

Thank you for requesting this dear anon! I hope you enjoy it :)

Word count: 1500

Warnings: none

Sunday mornings were usuallypretty lazy for you and Clyde. After having a long Friday and Saturday at thebar, your man tended to want nothing more than to hang around the house, movingas smooth and slow as molasses. Occasionally though, he got a spark of energy,and would wake you up early with kisses all over any exposed skin that peekedout from under the covers, asking if you’d like to go on some small adventurewith him. You always said yes, eager to do anything with your big teddy bear ofa husband.

Today’s particular adventure wasin the form of the Boone County Farmer’s Market, and it bein’ the first Sundayof the month, they were making a great big deal about themselves. Clyde hadseen the fliers, all sorts of fresh fruits and vegetables were for sale, but sowere other things, like art and jewelry and books. You had agreed, and the twoof you drove down to the park where the market was set up, walking down the grassylanes arm in arm.

It was chilly out, the effects ofwinter still hanging around the air. Still, people were out and enjoyingthemselves.

“I’ve never seen the market thisbusy.” You remarked, happy to see all the small local vendors having a line ofat least three or four people waiting to look in their little stand to surveytheir goods.

“Looks like them fliers do apretty good job.” Clyde responded with a smile.

There were people of all ages atthe market; from elderly folks admiring handmade quilts, all the way down tolittle kids enjoying small apple dumplings and running around in the grass. Themarket had more stands today than you remembered, and you were already mentallychecking off which ones you wanted to revisit on your way back to the car.

“Anything striking your fancy?” Youasked Clyde with a soft smile, who was deep in thought, as always.

“Yeah actually,” He said, lookingdown at you with a hint of an idea behind his eyes, “I was thinkin’ about maybestockin’ some smaller name brews in the bar. Give folks the option to drinksomethin’ a lil more local.”

“I think that’s a great idea!” Youexclaimed, making him grin. Clyde always had great ideas, sometimes he justneeded a little encouragement, and you were always happy to provide that forhim when he was feeling doubtful. “Why don’t you go talk to those nice fellas,and I’ll pick up some veggies for dinner?”

There was a booth for one of themore well known craft breweries in the area. Like with the other tents, therewere people milling around the place, happily taking an excuse to drink beer atnine in the morning. The folks at the booth were friendly looking and young,and Clyde immediately felt a bit anxious at the thought of going over byhimself.

“Aw sweetheart do ya have’ta leaveme?” He asked, tightening his grip subconsciously on your arm.

“I won’t be long, I promise.” Youkissed his cheek, “Besides, I can’t have you being distracted by me while you’retrying to do business.”

You made a good point – if youwere there he’d probably wind up starin’ at your pretty smile the whole time.

“Alright.” Clyde relentedfinally, kissing you chastely before releasing your arm. “Can you make sure toget a lot of carrots?” He asked, hopeful. He loved carrots and he knew thatthey had to have been a good deal bein’ at the market, or at least better thanthe Grocery Castle’s prices.

“Anything for you honey.” You nodded,before giving his gloved hand a reassuring squeeze and walking down to theproduce tents.

Clyde watched you go for a littlewhile, until he couldn’t see you anymore. Once you were officially out of hisline of sight, he took a deep breath of courage and approached the brewerytent.

“G’mornin’ Clyde!” One of the menat the table greeted him with a happy wave. The other man was busy with bottlingup some orders, but he too greeted Clyde from the back of the tent.

Clyde didn’t realize it from faraway, but knew the one who was at the table. Jack always came into Duck Tape onWednesday nights with his work buddies as a way to drink something other thanhis own brand. He was respectful, and always good for conversation, even aboutthe littlest things. Clyde liked him a lot actually, he was a vet too after havingserved in the Air Force. The two got along well.

“Morning Jack, hey Billy. Businessgoin’ well?” Clyde asked with a smile.

“You bet! Care for a sample?” Jackoffered him a red plastic cup about half full with dark beer.

“Yes please.” Clyde gratefullytook the cup in his good hand, bringing it up to his lips. He was pleasantlysurprised to discover that it was just as good as he had hoped, warming him fromthe inside as he drank, and he said as much. “Damn, this stuff’s pretty good.”

“You think so?” Jack asked withwide eyes. “That means the world comin’ from you.”

Jack had often talked aboutexpanding the brand to have his own bar, but the money just wasn’t there yet asit was still pretty small. He and Clyde talked at length about what it was likerunning such an establishment, and Jack had always looked up to Clyde –somethin’ that didn’t happen very often.

“I was thinkin’ about offeringsome more locally made drinks at the bar, was wondering if maybe y’all would beinterested in being the first name on the menu.” He said, and he could tell bythe look on both the young men’s faces that they were more than willing topartner up.

You found Clyde wandering around,looking for you not too much later. You admired him from afar, he always lookedgood but something about being out in the fresh air, even bundled up in hisjacket as he was, made you want to climb him like a tree. The way his sweet assfit perfectly into his jeans? You were a goner.

“Hey there handsome.” You said, biglinen tote bags slung over your shoulders with all sorts of fun goodies fromthe stands.

You saw Clyde was holding somethingin his good hand, a beautiful bouquet of a half-dozen lilies. They looked likethey had just bloomed, bright and creamy white.

“These are for you.” He said,taking the heavy tote bags from you and carrying them himself so you only hadto hold the flowers.

“For me?” You grinned, smellingthem. Oh how you loved the smell of fresh flowers. “Thank you honey, they’rebeautiful.” You pursed your lips, asking for a kiss, and smiled against hislips when he eagerly obliged.

“You deserve all the beautifulthings.” He said shyly, offering you his metal arm. You happily wound your ownaround it, sticking close to your man as you two made your way down the grassylanes back to the car.

“That’s why I’m with you.” Younodded in agreement.

After all these years, he stilldidn’t take compliments very well, and burned bright red at your sweet words.

“Baby you’re makin’ me blush.” Hemumbled, grateful for his baseball cap to shield his face from any onlookers.

“I love when you blush.” You pointedout, thinking how handsome he looked.

You never in your life would haveimagined that the incredible Clyde Logan would one day be your man, that you’dbe hangin’ off his arm for the whole town to see how in love you were. Younever dreamed that he’d buy you flowers and kiss you sweetly – he was tooperfect to think he could ever be yours.

Yet on days like this, walking armin arm with him, his gentlemanly self insisting on carrying the bags, it wasnever more real. He was so kind, and so funny in his dry kind of way, and bigand tall and strong and muscular…

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Clydeasked with an amused smile. It wasn’t often that he was the one to ask thatquestion, usually you were vocal about all your thoughts and feelings.

“Nothin’.” It was your turn toblush, embarrassed that you’d been caught.

“(Y/N) I know that look in yereye.” Clyde teased, bumping his hip into your side and making you laugh. “Goahead and say exactly what’s on yer mind right now.”

“I want to go home, put thisproduce away, and then get you naked so I can ride those big strong hips ofyours.” You said with a bit of a laugh when his face went bright red, clearlythat hadn’t been what he was expecting.

“Oh.” He stopped walking, right in the middle of the lane, peoplemoving around the two of you like water around a stone. He blinked, immediatelyconsumed with need.

“Sometimes I forget how big youare, how sturdy.” You said, making him swallow hard.

“We gotta go right now.” Hedeclared, taking your hand and pulling you in the direction of the car.

“You’re the one who asked!” You laughed.

He didn’t give you any time to tease him more onceyou got in the car, kissing you long and hard before speedinghome, eager to spend the rest of his Sunday in bed with you.

Tagging some pals! :) As always, if you’d like to be added or taken off the list please just shoot me a message! @fullofbees @spinebarrel @oh-adam @dreamboatdriver @bad–bad–man @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @aweirdlookingtree @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @adamsnackdriver @glitzescape @arwarz @adamsnacc-kler

#reader insert #clyde logan x reader #clyde x reader #logan lucky #clyde logan/reader #prompts #my writing #country boy i love youuu #Anonymous #cowboy answers

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shirtlessprincess-blog · 5 years

Text

Busy night in Rhodes

Arthur having a steamy night with a girl from Rhodes’ saloon after a bar fight.

This is the first time I post one of my texts, I really hope you’ll enjoy the atmosphere! English isn’t my mother tongue

Let the smut battle begin @soazzar ! Level 1 here we go ...

It wasn’t a busy night for her. She only had a couple old regulars coming to visit her after a hard day of work. Like every evening, she and the other girls were waiting for the night to get steamier as the men got drunker. As she was standing against the stair’s handrail of Rhodes’ biggest saloon, lightly smiling at the men that seemed to be decent and not too drunk, avoiding eye contact with those who were notorious creeps with no money, she noticed Arthur as soon as he crossed the doorway. He was nothing like the boys she was used to deal with; weathered skin, strong shoulders and a leather hat throwing shadow over a confident yet gentle look. His boots were rather dirty but he seemed to be a well groomed man. As he passes by her, she noticed his guns and the way he walked like nothing could scare him definitely showed how good he was at using them.

- Hello, handsome, she whispered just loud enough for him to hear but faintly enough to give any man the desire to hear it a second time.

His large back tightened a bit which surprised her but then the way he turned around and looked her in the eyes made her even more curious.

- My lady, he nodded with his hat covering his blue eyes.

She couldn’t help but take a step closer to him so he’d have to choose between keeping some personal space or sharing the same air.

- Are you looking for a good time, cowboy, she asked smiling.

He did not withdraw but but he politely declined her offer, leaving her here, wondering what she had made wrong. It usually worked with everyone!

As she went back to the stairs pouting, Arthur made his way to the bar. One of the other girls, a friend of hers, told her night was still early. She tried to focus on work but she would only stand and wait in places that allowed her to peek at Arthur’s wide back leaning over the bar.

It was barely midnight and she had been drinking a few whisky glasses with some other fellas, making sure her cowboy was still here, getting friendlier with other customers as he got drunker.

And suddenly the saloon’s door were smashed open; the air filled with a smell of swamp. Everyone was kinda used to the Lemoyne Raiders visits but this time, they seemed to be more angry. The three of them quickly made their way to the bar, pushing away every poor guy that was in their way.

She only understood what was happening when the first punch was thrown. In her handsome cowboy’s face.

His hat flew and Arthur almost fell down from the shock on his jaw. He immediately stepped back, blocking an other punch and hitting the bastard right in the stomach. He fell down to his knees and Arthur lost no time to kick him with the knee.

The girl and everyone in the saloon has raised from their chairs and were waiting for what would happen next. It was the first time she had seen a man handle these raiders bastards so well, even though his lips were bleeding a bit.

The two other raiders jumped into the fight, throwing fists with anger at that man who made such a fool of their boss, lying on the ground. She saw her handsome boy taking some bad punches but all she could do was stand there, her hands covering her sweet lips with fear for him. Everything happened very quickly and she couldn’t tell exactly how, but Arthur managed to smash one of the guy’s head against the wall. The second after, a knife was in the last raider’s hand, threatening anyone that would come too close. A little scream escaped from the girl’s mouth as Arthur dodged one strike, and a second but the third… cut his arm and blood spilled over the floor. Without even knowing her body had been moving, the girl ran across the room to stick her nails as hard as she could on the raider’s arm. The distraction was enough for Arthur to grab a whisky bottle but before he could crash it on the bastard’s head, the girl was thrown away in the loud crowd that had gathered to see the fight.

As soon as the last one was lying unconscious on the dirty ground, the saloon’s owner had them thrown out of his establishment, so angry he was ‘cause one of his girls was affected. Before he could turn to check she was alright, he saw Arthur was already helping her back on her feet.

- You alright, he asked with his arm around her waist to support her.

- Yes… but you’re bleeding, she answered back, feeling dizzy.

Arthur quickly checked his wound and only then the pain would strike but his only reaction was a light smirk.

- Now Cathy take care of this man, will you, the owner told the girl, annoyed there was such a mess in his saloon.

She then took a handkerchief off her corset and placed it on Arthur’s cut to stop the bleeding.

- Follow me, she gently said.

Arthur put his large hand over hers so she didn’t have to get covered in blood while they went upstairs. She didn’t let go of him though, and grabbed his other arm to press it against her beating chest.

As soon as they got to the room, she locked the door.

- Well, it was real brave jumping on that bastard, Arthur said.

- Ain’t my first fight you know, she smiled back.

- Could’ve been much worst without you, he replied, showing his arm.

- Come here, sweetheart…

He was about to tell her not to worry about him and she could leave, but she already had him sit on a chair and given him a pretty good view on her corseted breasts. While she would clean the wound with a wet piece of cloth, she would smile at him from time to time, and the sparks in her green eyes would catch Arthur’s attention more and more with every glimpse.

- Must hurt pretty bad, I’m sorry those morons were after you, she whispered.

- I’ve been hurt worst than that… and those morons had pretty good reasons to be after me, he replied amused.

- Then I guess you’re not just a nice cowboy, am I right, she said with her most teasing voice.

He laughed, letting himself get caught in her game:

- You better not figure out what I am, girl.

The wound wasn’t too deep and within minutes she had made a good bandage. She then handed him a bottle of brandy as he got up, determined not to let him leave.

- I think I’ve had enough for tonight, miss. I’d better leave before you get into trouble, he declined.

- Oh you’re too caring, sir, she whispered, slowly walking to the door without taking her emerald eyes off his.

Leaning on the door, she took the bottle to her rosy lips and drank a sip from it, skillfully letting one drop of the glossy fluid run down her chin and then fall on her chest, watching Arthur’s eyes follow the tiny drop as it dived down her breasts.

- Don’t you want to have a taste, at least?

He grinned and looked away, his face turning red. There was no escaping from the room, after all. She sighed and understanding that he wasn’t going to make the first move, she came so close their mouths were almost touching. She put her hands on his chest and slowly led them up ‘till her fingertips would touch his jawline. Arthur’s breath got faster as her lips melted with his, and he couldn’t help but closing his eyes. One of his hands carefully slid onto her lower back and she immediately pressed her body harder against him.

She made her way down kissing and licking his neck until her mouth would meet his buttoned shirt. Nothing could stop her and she quickly unfastened every button her expert hands would find. She playfully slammed his shoulder straps on his torso and the tickling made Arthur tighten his grip on her waist. In no time his shirt was falling to the ground and he was sitting on the bed, now unable to break the spell he was under. Savoring her victory, she untied his pants and with delight followed the hardening bulge with her fingertip, making her sturdy cowboy shiver. She giggled softly and kissed his lower belly while getting rid of any piece of clothes that was keeping her from his warm skin.

There he was now, stone hard from her caresses, abandoning himself and letting her guide him towards places he’d long forgotten.

- Close your eyes, she whispered so close to his flesh he could feel her breath on it.

With one hand she would slowly, carefully run up and down its whole length and with the other hand would brush his chest. At first, she would just tease him with light strokes and kisses closer and closer to his rod, softly breathing and blowing onto it, with her lips so close he thought they would touch, but they never did and it was driving him crazy with lust. Then, satisfied with the amount of frustration she could sense in his hands gripping the blanket and his stifled moans, she began playing with different levels of pressure with her fingers, and went up and down faster, then slower just on the tip before softly pecking his tense and warm skin.

She used all her mastery in the art of love to lead him higher and higher without hitting the climax too fast. She wanted to take her time and to get to learn each and every move that pleased him most. She loved the way Arthur would look away whenever she would look up to his face.

He felt like his whole body was burning under a hot summer sun, but then, as his heartbeat went faster and faster, he thought he was drowning in the pleasure that woman was giving him. He couldn’t stop watching her frail and soft hands working with so much dedication to his very own pleasure. He soon felt out of breath and couldn’t hold back moans that had been waiting for years to come out his dry throat. With no warning, he put his weathered hand on her cheek and caressed her in the most tender way she had ever experienced. Her heart missed a beat when he slid his thumb over her lips, leaning closer. So close he pressed his mouth against hers, taking her by surprise and she stopped thinking for a second. When he took his wet lips off her, she followed them by instinct, her eyes still closed. Her hands were now tied behind his neck, and when she opened her eyes, Arthur saw in them a burning that had just appeared.

She stood up, pushed him back on the bed and in a hurry proceeded to take off her dress. Every inch of skin showing as shiny fabric was slipping down her curvy body was making Arthur’s wait even more difficult. She finally got on the bed, over him and he felt overwhelmed by the softness of her skin, the beauty of her curves and the smell of her desire. He brought her body on his and kissed her, letting his large hands run everywhere they could on her.

- I ain’t done with you yet, cowboy, she smiled before biting his lip.

She teasingly put his hands off her and lied beside him, her head resting on his tight, waiting for him to figure out what was coming next. Very amused by his confusion, she slowly got near his hardened meat and began tasting it, with more and more appetite. He closed his eyes as she opened her mouth, giving him the strongest rush down the spine he’d ever felt. With every skill she had, and her hands, and her tongue, she drove him into lusty madness. Each deep moan that escaped from Arthur’s mouth would show her that same direction and she joined his choir when he slid his hand between her legs lying next to his chest. The more pleasure she gave him, the more he would give back and her short breath, her wetting tights and her moans were too much for him to handle. She soon felt his limb tighten and shiver and she pulled out to let him spill in her warm hands as she watched him cover his sweaty face with one arm.

He was out of breath and his mind was somewhere only her could have him discover. Satisfied, she let him catch his breath while she washed her hands with a tissue. When she got back to him, there was the sweetest look in his eyes.

- How about I pay you back, he said, bringing her body over his.

- You may try, cowboy…

She smiled back at him, pleased of his sudden boldness and watched him with delight put his hands on her body, his tongue lick the tip of her breasts and his fingers run deeper and deeper between her sweaty tights.

In the morning when she got up, her handsome cowboy was nowhere to be found but on the chair she found a piece of paper on which was lying a beautiful necklace. On the page torn from a notebook, there was a lovely portrait of her, peacefully sleeping and next to it was written :

« Take care, Cathy - A.M. »

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x oc #fluff #smut #fanfiction #yeehaw #rdr #red dead redemption #arthur #morgan #fanfic #fic

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tcswritings · 5 years

Text

Couples. (wip/rough)

:: updated on 04/23/2019 ::

Father Moore and Rosamund discuss people and other things. Mick and Orla have their own opinions.

„See the two over there?“

Rosamund pointed to the corner of the pub as Elias turned around on his seat, spotting two very familiar faces. Orla O’Connell and her friend Michael O’Loughlin were apparently involved in an intense conversation, each of them with a pint. The only source of light was the candle on their table but he could still see the looks on their faces very well. He heard Michael cackling as Orla made a face of what seemed to be mock indignation, because only a moment later, she started laughing as well. Elias was impressed by how comfortable the two of them always seemed to be around each other.

„How he looks at her.“ Rosamund sighed and leaned on the bar, propping her chin in the palm of her hand.

„What about it?“

Rosamund let out a small chuckle as she continued watching the two, letting a few moments pass before she spoke again. „Within my entire dating history… and I dated a lot, mind you, no man has ever looked at me like that boy looks at that girl.“

Elias watched Orla and Michael for a little bit longer, as they laughed and - probably - shared precious memories. They both had those knowing smiles - the smiles old friends have when they talk about things that only they can understand.

Rosamund was right. Michael was hardly able to take his eyes off Orla and he didn’t look at her like most young men his age looked at women - he looked at her as if she was made out of gold, as if she was the only person in the room, the only important thing in this entire world. In his entire world.

„That’s the purest form of love, I tell ya.“ Rosamund sighed again, before she eventually got up again, picking up her napkin and adding a slightly disgruntled “I don’ even get how they can both be so blind.”, as she proceeded to polish the next glass.

Elias decided to give the two friends their privacy and turned around on his seat again.

“They’re young, leave them be. They will figure it out, or maybe they won’t. All that matters is that they have each other.”

“Really now, Elias?” Rosamund smirked and put the glass away to where the others stood. “How come you never take a stance on these things?”

“Because these things are none of my business. Besides, it’s not like I have a lot of reference in that matter myself.”

“Ugh.” Rosamund rolled her eyes. “That’s really a bit of a shitty excuse, though.”

“Pardon me?” Elias raised an eyebrow, doing his best to suppress a smirk. He was used to Rosamund just blurting out with anything that came to her mind. She never meant any harm, quite the contrary. Everything she did or said was because she cared about the people around her and that was something he could relate to, albeit his choice of words was usually a little different.

“How does it even matter how experienced we are at things? I couldn’t carry a tune to save my life but I can still tell what’s good music and what’s not, don’t you think?”

“I’m not really sure if you can compare these things.”

“Well, both love and music should be made with passion. That’s how these two are linked.”

Elias laughed. “Passion. Rosamund, I’m not quite sure if you remember whom you’re talking to.”

“You were young once, Elias. And you weren’t born a man of God, were you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean now?”

“That I’m not buying your shit!”

Elias looked at the woman behind the bar and how she almost resembled a stubborn teenager now: firm stance, arms put to her hips and with a challenging look on her face. If he had to guess, he wouldd say that she was about ten years younger than he was but her eyes still had a spark to them, revealing traces of the young girl she once was.

"Well, you don't have to buy anything, dear. All I'm trying to say that this is hardly an appropriate conversation."

"Aw, c'mon, Elias. Just give me a little bit!"

"I'd rather not."

"A high school romance? Or maybe a university fling? Anything, please! You're too much of a handsome fella to not have a... past."

"I've heard that before, somewhere." Elias mumbled, more to himself, raising an eyebrow.

"You know I won't shut up about it." Rosamund now added, crossing her arms and cocking her head a little.

"Rosamund, I could literally tell you anything now, just for you to finally drop the subject."

"Nah, you couldn't, I smell bullshit from a mile away."

"You're worse than some of the children I work with."

"Oh, in case you're worried that I might think less of you when you share your secrets with me, rest assured. I won't." Rosamund winked.

"In case you want to lose a regular, please feel free to keep this up." Elias now smiled.

It was nothing but a friendly smile but Rosamund understood that it was time to not pry any further now. She knew Elias Moore would come back to the pub either way, that he was never truly mad at her. However, she was not one to push people over the edge of what they were truly comfortable doing either, so she decided to let it go. For now. This was somehow their thing after all - a bit of teasing, a bit of arguing, but above all, good conversations about pretty much anything.

Rosamund was not willing to risk this. "Ah, I would miss you far too much. You're off the hook, Father."

***

“Gosh, I feel so much better now. Just one more minute and we would’ve had an accident happening right here, I tell ya!”

Orla O'Connell sat back down at their booth where Mick was waiting for her and she was just about to pick up their earlier conversation again when she noticed that her friend did not only not look at her but something entirely different had apparently caught his attention now. It seemed like his gaze had fallen on something going on at the bar, he had turned around and just sat there, looking like he was lost in thoughts, his long and slim legs stretched out on the bench.

If she had been here with any other guy, on a date maybe, she would’ve been a little miffed about the lazy posture that could easily imply a lack of interest in the actions taking place at this table but Orla was used to her friend’s short attention span in certain situations. Mick never meant any harm, his mind just worked that way. Above all, she knew it wasn’t about her, so she merely tried to figure out the direction he was looking at.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, Mick nodded towards the bar. Orla wasn’t quite sure what he was on about and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s going on over there?” she asked, trying to catch a hint as to what was on Mick’s mind.

“I dunno, nothin’.” Another drag. “Or, well... I mean...”

Orla could see that his thoughts were drifting off again. He did that often - start sentences and not finish them and while that could be endearing she was simply too curious to admire his scatterbrained antics right now. “What is it?”

A few moments later, Mick cocked his head a little and he spoke again. “Y' ever think ‘bout Moore and Rosamund?”

“About Father Moore and- what do you even mean?”

“As in ‘they should get it on together’.”

Orla let out a dry laugh. “Funny.”

“Okay no, maybe not exactly that, I mean I know they can’t - oh well, maybe they could, but, y’know, they shouldn’t... but, I dunno.”

Still not quite understanding where her best friend got this particular idea from, Orla looked at the bar again. Mick was eerily perceptive at times, she had to give him that, and for some weird reason Elias Moore and Rosamund really did get along just naturally although they couldn’t be any more different on first glance: He was a rather stoic and stern character, always clad in his dark suit, a bit on the grumpy side while Rosamund, with her extravagant choice of apparel and wild hairdos as well as the tattoos and piercings, was a truly vibrant creature that one could hardly take their eyes off.

Orla watched the local priest and the woman behind the bar sharing a laugh, as they did so often. She saw Rosamund smiling, briefly looking into her direction, before turning to Father Moore again, filling up another pint for him while maintaining the conversation.

While she observed the two, Orla started thinking.

***

Around eight thirty, the pub was filled and, as usual, Rosamund had some of her favourite regulars sitting at the bar. There was a particularly pleasant atmosphere tonight, the air was filled with laughter and chit chat, as well as the busy clinking of the glasses. Weekends really raised people's moods and those were the moments when Rosamund remembered why she loved doing what she had been doing almost every day for the past fifteen years now. Keeping a pub running wasn't always easy, but Rosamund was very proud of what she had accomplished with "The Dirty Deed", fully aware that she wouldn't have made it without her amazing team as well as some of the lovely guests who had been coming to her place for so many years now, not only to have a pint or a glass of whiskey but to chat with her and her staff, to have a good time and maybe even to meet someone with an open ear.

One of her favourite guests, Father Elias Moore, had been sitting at the bar for a few hours now and for the past fifteen minutes they had been caught up in a heated little discussion.

"I'm just going to pretend that you didn't say what you just said." Rosamund breathed out, with her eyes closed, truly appalled by what Elias had just revealed to her.

"Well, I didn't say that they are bad, I merely think they're highly overrated-"

"Overrated!" Rosamund made a little gruntled noise of disapproval. "Elias, this is sheer blasphemy."

"Oh, I would never do such a thing." he laughed. Despite their little quarrel, the tone of their conversation was much more relaxed again. Elias certainly was more comfortable with the subject of music than talking about his romantic past, although he couldn't help but feel that he wouldn't have minded to tell Rosamund at least something eventually.

Well, maybe another time, he thought to himself.

"Bringin' On The Heartbreak is a masterpiece." Rosamund insisted. "I'll never forget that evening when our lads played their own acoustic version here at the bar, and almost everyone joined in singing at the end. Gave me the chills." Rosamund sighed. "Don't let any of the two know, but I miss them."

"Ah, they'll come around. Sometimes we need a thunderstorm to clear the air."

Rosamund pondered this for a little while.

"I don't know, maybe you're right. And this may as well as be an opportunity for our should-be-lovebirds over there to become actual lovebirds again. They've been spending so much time together lately, I like that!"

"Ah, Rosamund. Just let it go already. It's really none of our business."

"I'm no longer taking advice from a man who thinks that Def Leppard are overrated." Rosamund shot Elias a hard glance, before she looked up again to the table where Orla and Michael were sitting. "Besides, it doesn't look like these two get all romantic again that soon anyway. Jesus, one moment they're all over each other and now it looks like there's some serious trouble in paradise."

Elias turned around again. Rosamund was right; there was nothing left of the earlier intimate atmosphere that surrounded them. It now looked like Orla was talking a mile a minute, clearly excited over something, wildly gesturing and making funny expressions (she had always been good at that!) while Michael probably tried to figure out ways to shut her up. His eyes wandered around and it seemed like he was uncomfortable with their subject - whatever it might be - but unable to stop Orla from rambling.

"Oh laddie, just kiss her already and you'll be fine!" Rosamund muttered between her teeth.

Pinching the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb and taking a deep breath, Elias once again turned to the bar. "Rosamund, please." he groaned, half annoyed, half amused.

"What? She's sending him signals!" Rosamund noticed how Elias merely raised an eyebrow and she had to admit that her sentiment was probably a bit far fetched in this very moment. "Uhm, well, not right now she isn’t, but she often does!"

"Are you sure you're not just seeing things, dear?" Elias asked, smiling, but before Rosamund could answer, he heard one of the regulars at the bar calling for another pint.

"In a minute, Stephen!" Rosamund called back, before she turned around to Elias once more, pointing her finger close to his face. "There's no way someone could be that oblivious, Father! I refuse to believe you have never seen it before!"

***

“I just can't believe that I have never seen it before!"

Orla was still flabbergasted. The thought of possible romantic chemistry between the local priest and the pub owner had never crossed her mind so far but now that she had elaborated it a little further in her mind, it all made sense to her and she could not stop thinking about it.

“And I can't believe we’re talking about it again.” It was merely a mutter, followed by a groan, and at this point Mick totally regretted that he ever brought the subject up in first place. “Orla, that was an hour ago, ‘t was just a thought-”

"And I just can't stop thinking about it now!"

“You don’ say.”

“What if they are in love? I mean, priests can do that, right? Fall in love? It’s not like they lose the ability to feel once they go celibate?” Orla asked but Mick knew that she didn't actually expect any answers from him. She had long formed an opinion over the chemistry going on between Father Moore and Rosamund.

"Probably not." Mick sighed.

“Oh man, I ship them so hard now, you wouldn’t even-”

“You what them?”

Orla rolled her eyes. “Oh god, Mick. Sweetie. Just go online for a day and a half, that’s basic language, I don’t have the nerve to teach you basic language now.”

“What the fuck, that’s hardly basic language.” Mick protested but Orla brushed him off as she had far more important thoughts on her mind.

“I mean - they would be so good together!” she asserted.

“Orla-”

"They would so work! As a couple!”

“No, they would-”

“I want them to be a couple now!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t make this weird now, I said it was just a thought, nothin’ more-”

“Just imagine how awful it must be when you are in love but you just. can’t. bang.”

“Oh my god.” Mick muttered, closing his eyes in exasperation and he let out another groan.

“Imagine!”

“No, I don’ wanna, this is weird, stop makin’ this weird, Orla, please.”

“Hey, it was you who started this! You can’t just say a thing like that and expect me to not agree with you?! ”

“... you literally said ‘That’s bullshit, Mick!'!”

“I changed my mind!? You’re totally right, I shouldn’t even have questioned you in first place!"

Mick made a face as if he was about to start crying, out of sheer despair, and he slumped back into his chair, resembling a querulous little boy who had just gotten his favourite dessert denied.

"Just go over to the bar and tell 'em both, they're gonna be thrilled."

Orla's face lit up. "You think?"

(... to be continued!)

***

Author’s notes:

* Here's the song Rosamund mentions. Throwing in some music references from time to time is a little thing I do, lol. I'm trying to keep it down but it will keep happening from time to time. My taste in music has always been tied to my universe - I draw a lot of inspiration from it!

* Mick is indeed not familiar with basic internet/fandom slang, such as “shipping”. Apart from ordering stuff and streaming music, he was never the type to spend too much time online/on social media. He has a FB account that he pretty much never uses and that’s about it.

#father moore #rosamund #orla #mick #the dirty deed

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squidproquoclarice · 5 years

Note

Do you take writing requests? I noticed your backstory for Arthur and Abigail and I'm curious if you would be willing to write that out. Can't wait for the next chapter of May The Sunrise!

July 1894Western Minnesota

It was one of the good nights, one of the real good nights. The bank job went over flawlessly that afternoon, and they’d made it back to camp. Whiskey and beer flowing, songs being sung–watch maintained by John and Javier first, though, just in case. She felt good too. She’d been with them only a few months, but they’d become something special to her already. Family, a different kind of family from all the sisters she’d had growing up among painted ladies in Council Bluffs. She had menfolk in her life now too, and as more than transient marks or customers, and more than–well, Uncle sure wasn’t much, whatever he was. A father of sorts in Hosea, and the rest, some aimed to be brothers, and others, there was nothing to be ashamed of a girl having a good time with some fine-looking men. She and Javier had some fun, and Lord, the things that man knew how to do, wicked and gentle all at once. She’d had her share of men before that, but truly, she’d had little idea. Dutch–Dutch had been another thing entirely. She’d ended that night exhausted in the best way possible, but with the oddest sense he was done with her after that, and he hadn’t asked her back to his tent again.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but in her opinion, it did a pussy some good. Far better that she choose like this and enjoy it than it had been in a year of lying back for men who’d paid their fare for a ride, with no choice in that at all. Some of them hadn’t been so bad, but some had. She liked this life, wild and free. She liked these people, who gave her choices and looked at her as something more than something to scratch an itch.

Passing around the south end of camp, taking another slug of whiskey, she could hear Dutch’s happy holler, “–done Jesse James and Cole Younger one better, boys, they got run right outta Minnesota in ‘76–”There was a dry chuckle at that, and she turned. There was Arthur, sitting there on a crate, carefully loading bullets into the empty slots of a bandolier by lantern light. Though from how he fumbled with it a bit here and there, he’d obviously had his share of the bottle of whiskey on the barrel top alongside his project. He looked up, saw her, and gave her a crooked grin. “My God, to hear old Dutch talking, you’d think we knocked over that damn Northfield bank itself that turned back the James/Younger gang, not a little thing like Star Lake. That bank manager? I couldn’t hardly keep a straight face listening to that Swedish accent he got, or Norwegian, or whatever the hell it was.”Laughing at it herself, she sat down on the other side of the barrel. “That accent were funny as hell, right? ‘Oh, Miss, don’tcha know that?’ Thought it’d take him a year to get a sentence out!” She tried picking up one of the bullets herself, threading it carefully into a leather loop. “Other way,” he said, but not angrily. “I’m right handed. Bullet nose goes to the left so I can grab and load real easy, no need to turn it around, see?” He plucked one out, mimed loading it right into a revolver, motion easy and instinctive, even tipsy. Big hands, but deft ones–well, that sparked a wicked little notion in her mind that grew the more she let herself mull it over. “You want ‘em all put the same way for that.” She nodded, untucking the bullet and reversing it.

“You done good in that bank,” he went on. She’d been there playing a customer, keeping everyone quiet and acting terrified, and picking a few pockets in the bargain.

“Thanks.” They worked there together, finishing up the job. She looked up at him in increasingly interested glances. Thirty, just about, and not at all a bad looking man, handsome in that big, broad, bluff and hearty sort of a way. Funny man too, at that. He seemed like the sort of man who could be a good time. The hook of curiosity was there and set. So she went right for the target. “Seems it’s a night for celebrating. Having a good time. So–I wouldn’t mind me some company tonight, if you was interested.” He paused at that, really looking at her then. Brow furrowed for a second, and if he made some cheap remark about Dutch and Javier having had her first, he could fuck right off and jerk off, thank you very much. Then he reached out, took another fairly strong pull on the whiskey bottle. “Well, why not.” He gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Pretty girl like you, I’d have to be a fool to say ‘no’, wouldn’t I?”His tent was right there, and soon enough he had the flaps closed behind them. She wouldn’t light the lantern–last thing this needed was casting shadows on the tent wall and giving everyone one of those Magic Lantern shows. The firelight cut through the tent wall enough to give some faint glow, so she could see enough.

One hand on his shoulder, she pushed him down towards his cot, and he went. Climbing on, straddling his hips, she braced up on those fine broad shoulders of his, leaning down to kiss him. Now here was a surprise–rather than going right at it, Arthur kissed far sweeter than she thought, his fingers weaving into her hair, the other hand on her back, holding her close. Soft and almost wistful, and apparently Dutch’s enforcer had something more to him than she’d thought. Not an unwelcome surprise at that.She kissed him harder, reached down, got the buckle of his gun belt, undid it easily. He reacted like a damn spooked horse, practically freezing up under her, inhaling sharply, hands suddenly tense on her. She laughed at that, but kindly, in a way that was meant to make it all right again. “Been a bit since you had a woman? That’s all right. You work hard enough, guess you ain’t getting much time for pleasure. But you know what they say. All work and no play makes Arthur a dull boy.”

He gave a slow, rueful chuckle. “I fear I make a pretty dull boy no matter what.”“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” She leaned in to kiss him again, but he ducked her lips, turning his head aside so the kiss landed on one stubbled cheek.

He breathed in deeply, then exhaled, breath with a whiff of whiskey warm against her cheek. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Well, she could feel as she shifted on his lap that one part of him certainly wanted to be doing this, and the sooner the better. “Why not? I ain’t married to Javier. Or you bothered that I was with Dutch?”

“Fair’s fair. I figure a woman’s free to bed anyone she wants, if we fellas can.”

“Then really, what the hell is the problem?”

He reached up, touched her cheek, and gave a sad, awkward little smile. “Ain’t nothing about you. It’s me.”

Could he be more cryptic? But she’d seen some of the girls with their customers, men missing some girl they’d lost or couldn’t have, and Hosea had made some wry joke about him pining for a girl. “This about that girl, that Mary I heard about?” She leaned down, kissed him again, lightly. “You missing her? I could make you forget.” A whore was damn good at that, at being the girl they really wanted. She couldn’t say how many women’s names she’d been called by. “Or you can call me by whatever name, if that’s what you need.”“No, nothing to do with Mary. But there’s a girl I damn well shouldn’t let myself forget,” and there was a sudden grim note of iron in his voice. Carefully but firmly, he got her by the hips, lifting her off him, setting her to sit down beside him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even started this.”

There was something else in this now, something within her that she’d almost have to call a sort of fear. She’d gotten swept out far from the riverbank on this one. Gone in expecting cheerful fun with a man who seemed obvious and uncomplicated, and suddenly she’d seen there was a hell of a lot going on inside him, things she couldn’t touch and couldn’t understand. Depths to him that felt unseen and unknowable, and far, far too much for her. Who the hell are you really, Arthur Morgan? “It’s fine. I seen men before who need one woman in particular. They can’t pretend with anyone else. Whoever she is, she’s lucky.”

He huffed out a soft chuckling laugh, looking down at his hands, clasped between his knees. “Oh, now, I wouldn’t say she’s anything like lucky for having gotten tangled up with me.” There was a weary note in his voice that made him think perhaps she’d died, but she wouldn’t ask. “But you’re a good girl, Abigail Roberts. You deserve a man who ain’t in your bed only for the forgetting. Some lucky bastard who can’t barely believe he gets to call you his–calls you by your own name, too.”She shook her head, incredulous. “That right there might be the finest thing a man’s said to me in a long time.”

“If that ain’t sad commentary on the brainless degenerates you been keeping company with, not sure what is.” He gave her a wry smile. “Counting myself among that number, mind.”

“Oh, you’re not so bad.”“A lady having a good opinion of me? That’s rare as hen’s teeth.”She scoffed at him at that. “I ain’t no lady!”

“And I ain’t no gentleman, so here we sit, you and me.” Reaching for the cigarettes on the barrel top by his bedside, he offered her the packet, and she drew one out. Taking one for himself, he struck a match, a tiny flare of light in the twilight gloom of the tent, and lit her cigarette for her. Sitting there beside him, having a peaceful smoke, wishing she could do something for him, sad and lonely as he was, strangely kind as he’d proved. Obviously fucking wasn’t on the menu, but he seemed a little brighter now even just having her sit there and talk, so maybe that helped.

Finishing his smoke, he dropped it, crushing it out underneath his boot heel. “Gotta go take my watch, but you can sleep here if you want. Quieter than bunking down around Uncle’s snores and farts.”

“That, and it lets everyone think we was very busy in here. Gets them off your back about going whoring for a few months, I reckon?”

He smirked, tapping his temple with two fingers, then pointing them at her. “There’s a clever girl. I figured you was one.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. Reached over and mussed up his hair a bit, as if she’d been running her fingers through it, feeling that momentary catch of tension in him again at her touch. Minnesota July air was humid enough, and closing the tent flaps made it even worse, so they probably both looked sweaty enough to sell the idea of having had a pretty vigorous tumble in his tent. “Don’t worry. They ask me about it, you was truly magnificent tonight.”

“Doing me a favor, then?”

“Oh, it’s doing me a favor too. Them boys already gotta push for the standards you been holding them to, right? They think that here’s one more thing you set the bar about impossibly high, they’re gonna have to work all the harder to keep up.” John especially would probably take that as a challenge and a half, given she could see he practically worshipped Arthur.His laugh at that was deep and genuine, covering his eyes with one hand, shoulders shaking. “My God, you truly are something else, Abigail.” Finishing her own cigarette, she lay back on the cot as he went and undid the tent flaps, cooler night air rushing in. He wasn’t wrong. This wasn’t fine living, but it was a bit more comfortable than her pallet underneath the wagon. “Good night,” she said, softly enough she thought he might not hear it. Though from how he paused in the doorway of the tent, and nodded, apparently he had. Then he was gone.

#arthur morgan #abigail roberts #fic prompts #rdr2 #fic from the parking lot #Anonymous #tried to put part of this under a cut but tumblr is being a dick #surprise

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hanalwayssolo · 6 years

Text

Of Prophets and How They Save The World

A/N: First of the three-part thing I wrote feat. a pre-game Ardyn, which I’ve had since December. This all started thanks to this fanart I came across c/o @clave-razon, then I set this story idea aside for awhile, but then I saw another brilliant fanart, this time a WIP from @hanatsuki89 and I’m like, I gotta get my shit together haaaah anyway

Link in AO3 | Tagging some fellas per usual: @eternallydaydreaming2015 @lazarustrashpit @bleucommelhiver @louisvuittontrashbags @hypaalicious @mooshinspace @animakupo @noboomoon

Ardyn rarely counts the days he is away from the Crown City, but today, he is starting to feel the weight of the time that has passed.

Perhaps the unusually blazing climate is to blame. Ardyn is no stranger to the tropical regions in Lucis, but this year has been hotter than the Infernian’s fickle flame. The season has transformed the roads of Cleigne into a parched wasteland, the soil cracked and bone-dry in the searing heat. In his growing discomfort, Ardyn rolls the sleeves of his loose white dress shirt that now sloppily clings to his frame thanks to his own sweat, and he ties his red-violet hair into a messy bun. Nero, his ever faithful chocobo companion, can even sense his unease that the majestic black bird descends to a slow trot down the dusty road.

Behind Ardyn, Gilgamesh steers his own ride—an equally majestic golden chocobo named Weiss—and sidles up to him.

“My lord, the next town should already be nearby. I apologize if the route we have taken has caused you any inconvenience.” Gilgamesh politely offers, bowing his head. Despite his daunting appearance, Gilgamesh’s display of his gentle courtesies and utmost propriety directly contrasts his massive height, broad shoulders, and striking amber eyes; even his long silver hair parted like braided curtains on both sides of his face does little to help encourage a less menacing look.

Ardyn faces Gilgamesh with a cheeky smile. “My dear friend, there’s no need for you to apologize on behalf of the machinations of nature. It is what it is.”

“But are you exhausted, my lord?”

Ardyn hesitates, but he lies, “No, I’m perfectly fine, Gilgamesh. I appreciate your concern—“

Nero lets out a loud kweh! that Ardyn pulls into a halt. Gilgamesh finds it difficult not to laugh.

“It seems that the bird only knows how to tell the truth,” Gilgamesh says, amused. “We’ve been on a long journey, after all.”

Four months, three weeks, two days...

Ardyn sighs and offers no response, and he fails to notice that Gilgamesh is keenly watching him. The weight of four months, three weeks, and two days begin to manifest in Ardyn’s face; his eyes reflect a heavy weariness, his lips tighten to an exhaustion he refuses to acknowledge.

It is true that Ardyn embarked on this noble expedition for a genuinely good cause; for months, he dedicated his time traveling from one bustling town to another, visiting houses of people afflicted by the unknown malady rampantly spreading all throughout Eos, and blessing them with his gift of healing. He treats them all with profound care, and not once did Ardyn fail to welcome the wounded and weary at his feet, the sick and dying, the lost and uncared for.

His stubborn younger brother insisted that Ardyn did not need to bear the burden of their powers alone; but with his stubbornness directly proportional to his own, Ardyn still pursued this rigorous journey, despite knowing that the eleven-year-old Somnus is right. His brother might still be a child, but Ardyn found him too wise and brazen for his age. He loves him for it, and fiercely so.

Let me protect you, brother. Let this burden be my cross to carry.

And if he could only allow himself one moment, or a fraction of an hour, or a breath of a second, Ardyn would admit how much he misses his brother. Or just simply how tired he truly is, how he condemns the frailty of his own flesh, how he wants to strip away his body’s limitations, to rid himself of his own weakness when people around him are suffering and dying and—

“My lord?” Gilgamesh finally cleaves the silence with the sudden sharpness of his voice. He is still looking at Ardyn, confused and concerned. “We shouldn’t be much farther now. Are you—”

“You worry too much, my friend,” Ardyn chews and swallows all of his inhibitions into a flashy smile. He pats Gilgamesh on the back before he pulls in Nero's reins, galloping away, leaving his trusted steward’s worries to wither at the corner of his mouth.

Your trembling hands are calloused as the day your lover left without a word.

Not that it matters now, anyway. What matters now is that your hands quiver and shake that you lose your grip around the porcelain bowl, slipping away from your fingertips, and gracelessly meeting the concrete floor with a wild crash. Your bandaged forearms are burning without fire, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you shuffle around your little hut in a frenzy, searching for that vial of remedy you had personally concocted to relieve the pain, if only temporarily.

But you cannot seem to find it. So instead, you whisper a sincere prayer to the Six to grant you a swift death.

You have been enduring this scourge—or blight or daemon’s curse or whatever name the villagers of Lestallum have decided to coin this monstrous disease—since the day your lover discovered the patches of ghastly gray erupting from your skin. The same day they probably decided should be the last day to be around you because, well, what’s the point in staying with a person about to die, anyway?

Again, it doesn’t matter now. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that the pain either subsides or kills you in a moment’s time.

But the sound of a hundred footsteps and excited voices jolt you out of your silent suffering.

You drag your feet and you press an ear against your front door. You cannot bring yourself to open it and let the people see your current state, so you only listen. “The Healer is in town!” You hear someone announce amongst the collective chatter, and your heart stops.

Lestallum may be a small canyon town, but with the occasional mercenaries and peddlers passing through, it is no surprise that the news about this Healer have been circulating around to both travelers and townsfolk alike. Even someone like you who live far off the main thoroughfare and all the way on the outskirts of the town have heard about this Healer. Revered and respected by many, people claim that the man works miracles. They say that with just his touch, the blind could finally see, the cripple could walk, the deaf could hear.

The ones with the scourge are reported to be cured, too.

Gods be good, if this is hope...

You are, in every way, a skeptic right to the bone. But today, you decide to take your chances and gamble on otherworldly wonders and miracles and whatever this Healer has to offer.

So you snatch your cloak and you bolt out of your door, still throbbing in the agonizing pain. Past through the barren fields, past the baked pastures, and past dry stone huts and wooden houses and withered trees, you run across the sweltering road. From afar, you can see the crowd gathering like a wake of vultures over a carcass, all squawking in morbid anticipation. You try to squeeze your way in, only to fail miserably.

“If I may so humbly request everyone to please settle down,” a booming voice suddenly commands, and like some sort of sorcery, the townspeople fall into hushed whispers. You tiptoe to get a better look behind the menacing voice, but you are only able to glimpse, even for a mere second, a gigantic armored man with beautiful silver hair and frighteningly piercing eyes.

Is he… the Healer?

Another voice speaks up, and it is not the silver-haired man.

“We thank you all for such a warm welcome,” the voice starts, and whatever the person says next gets drowned by people hollering and cheering. Piqued with intense curiosity, you back away from the crowd and you find yourself climbing on top of the roof of a nearby house. Not your finest moment, you admit, but desperate times call for very desperate measures.

At this distance, you spot the Healer’s face among the throng of spectators.

You are somehow surprised to find that the man possesses a young face: comely and handsome, with the exception of his striking velvety hair. The armored man stands on guard beside him, hovering menacingly, as if ready to shred anyone who dares to pose a threat. And yet, despite his efforts, the Healer seems to pay him no mind as he welcomes a sick man infected with the scourge with open arms.

And with all honesty, you did not exactly prepare yourself to witness something so… strangely ordinary.

Perhaps you should not have expected the Healer to perform some sort of spectacle or riveting spell out of his so-called miracles. There is no bolt of thunder nor a single spark of flame, nor did the earth part beneath his feet.

And yet, there’s something so gripping in this strange ordinariness. One by one, he attends to the needs of anyone who comes to him, and he beckons for them to come closer with such patience and gentleness, treating them with a benevolent kindness, like he owns a well of affection inside of him that never runs out. He carries children with utmost care, holds the sick with unfailing compassion, touches the foreheads of men and women who seek his blessing, and he does all of these things—these strangely, brutally ordinary things—over and over, repeatedly as if in a perpetual loop, all with a solemn smile on his beautiful face. And the people walk away crying out of joy and gratitude, having been freed and cured of their afflictions with the simplest of his touch.

It is a bizarre sight to behold, watching these people from all walks of life celebrate and rejoice that it made you lose track of time. Like being engulfed in a trance that makes everything feel so possible, or infinite. Little by little, you mindlessly watch as more people come forward and walk away, until the waves of people begin to ebb, happily retreating to their homes, and the Healer and his steward start to march away, about to leave town…

Gods be damned, I am a fucking idiot!

“Wait!” You yell as the pair already depart riding their chocobos. In your panic, you hastily climb down from the roof that you scrape your knee—an additional pain to your many other pains, which by now you have no time to pay any attention to—and you break into a desperate run.

“Wait, please—“ you yell again in between heaving breaths, but they cannot seem to hear you. They are already halfway outside the town, and you are still running to catch up...

Until you see that they stutter into a halt.

Unlike your broken porcelain bowl, the Healer staggers to his side, slowly slipping away from the saddle of his black chocobo, his body gracelessly meeting the ground with a quiet thud.

For what it’s worth, Ardyn is pretty certain he has not returned yet to the Crown City, but he finds himself in his room. He knows it’s his room when he immediately recognizes the desk drowning in multitudes of books and scrolls, the dusty shelves behind it, and the unmade bed at the corner where his brother is now sitting.

“Why do you always push yourself too hard, brother?” Somnus asks, his voice low and lonely. He raises his head and looks at Ardyn, his dark blue eyes curious and searching.

But Ardyn only responds to his brother’s question with a faint smile. He approaches the boy and wraps him in a tight embrace.

“I’m fine,” Ardyn finally says, pulling away and ruffling his brother’s well-kept raven-black hair.

Somnus protests with a groan, “No, you’re not fine. You’re sick.” He stares at Ardyn and in a whisper, he tells him, “Please come home.”

“But I am home, Somnus—“

“Please don’t go, brother.”

In a blink of an eye, Somnus’ gentle face changes to something grotesque—eyes bleeding black, his skin paler, mouth foaming with blood.

Terror washes over Ardyn and he seizes Somnus’ face. But with his touch, the image of his brother only blurs before him. And he tries to scream but his voice would not come out, and the silence only grows around him until he is completely devoured by darkness.

Ardyn wakes up thrashing in a cold sweat with the fullest intent of killing you.

Well, at least that’s what it feels like when he has his hand wrapped around your neck, wringing the life out of you. But Ardyn does not mean you any harm, and you know it; for the past few days, you have been watching him restlessly drift between consciousness and his nightmares, and right now, you just happen to be within the perimeter of his worst nightmare yet.

And it’s a good thing that Gilgamesh is quick on his feet. He hurriedly steps in between the both of you and he pulls Ardyn back.

“My lord, let go—“

“Where am I?!” Ardyn demands in a hysterical fit. “And Somnus, is he—“

“Your… brother is... not here,” you cough out, and you struggle to explain as you try to pry Ardyn’s hands off your neck, “And… you’re… in my house…”

Ardyn turns to you, and in an instant, he calms down and he returns to his senses. He drops his hands, and the realization of what he has just done finally dawns on him that his face reddens in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Ardyn falters, and he looks at Gilgamesh. And then at you. After a painful second, he sheepishly asks, “How long have I been... asleep?”

You and Gilgamesh trade a knowing look.

Gilgamesh clears his throat and answers, “It’s been five days, my lord. Our host has generously taken their time to take care of you.”

Gilgamesh begins to explain what happened. A flash of urgency crosses Ardyn’s pale face. Like drawing strength from an empty pit, he weakly smiles at you and croaks, “Thank you… for your hospitality. But I believe we must go—”

Before Gilgamesh could even protest at Ardyn's ridiculous suggestion, you beat him to it. “Are you mad?” You return Ardyn’s smile with a frown. “You’re still burning with fever. Look at you.”

Ardyn sighs, “But you have done so much for me—us—that I can’t bother you any much longer—”

“With all due respect,” you curtly interrupt, “refusing to receive help when you are in dire need of one is not an act of selflessness but an act of foolishness. I understand you are in a hurry, but wouldn’t it be best that you rest for the long journey ahead?”

Ardyn does not answer. Gilgamesh is stunned by your audacity, and he only nods in agreement.

Before the silence could stretch any longer, Ardyn politely asks, “May I know your name?”

This time, it is you who do not answer. Ardyn steps closer to you, and you notice him eyeing your bandage-covered forearms. You turn away, and you can feel his amber eyes burning a hole at your back. After a while, you say, “I’m afraid my name is of little importance.”

“How come?”

“Because I’m just a nobody,” you respond, albeit a little too tartly. You face him and offer him an empty smile before you take your leave.

#ffxv fanfiction #final fantasy xv #ffxv #ardyn izunia #ardyn x reader #my writing #finally after 84 years

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new2otomelol · 6 years

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SCM - The Mate - 2nd Chapter

The picture above is not mine, but it went so well with what I imagined that I had to borrow.

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

Several Months Later

Life in the city of Tokyo has been grand. The small apartment I have capitulated to pales in comparison to my room back in the castle, but I cherish the freedom it brings. Closing the latch to secure the projector from the planetarium I release a content sigh and head towards the roof to gaze upon the real thing. The night’s fresh air greets me as I open the door; walking slowly towards the telescope and chair I had set up earlier in the day, I stretch and breathe it all in. “Oi, goldfish, you done yet?” I jump at the unexpected intrusion of my nightly ritual and turn to face four very handsome men dressed in very unusual, yet eloquent uniforms. “And you are?” I respond as I raise an eyebrow at them, plus, I feel a certain amount of aspersion to my character, a goldfish? Really? What does that even mean? I take a step back as a man with fiery amber eyes and matching hair color steps forward trying to ascertain an intimidating stance. “We are gods and YOU are going to help us.” I maintain my gaze on him as the fire inside me surges in anger, not in shock. “I. Don’t. Have. To. Do. Anything. For. You. Mr. Deity!” I wave my hand weakly in the air exaggerating the deity part. The man becomes enraged, so much so that the other gods hold him back and speak to him to calm him down.

I feel a little amused as I watch the scene unfold before me, but all my senses and attention shift to one of the gods, a man with beautiful blue hair, the face I’ve dreamt about for over 300 years. My heart stops for a second as a different raging fire flows within me, desire unlike any I have felt before now surged through my veins. The dragon inside me stirred and suddenly I felt the need to claim this person as my own. No, not a god, I can’t… the need to mate with him becomes so overbearing that my vision changes. One of the gods looks to me at that instant and gasps “guys! Her eyes just glowed!” the men all stop to look at me and dread washes over me as if a cold bucket of water was just thrown on me. I shake my head and run towards the door as I feel someone grab my wrist and a quick snap follows; the environment before me changes within the blink of an eye and I now stand on an elegant carpet inside what seems to be a finely decorated living room.

“Rhea, please do not be alarmed, have a seat and we’ll explain it all to you.” I try to calm myself down as much as I can and close my eyes in an attempt to distill the desire that had stirred within them earlier. I open them again after a few seconds and face the gods that had taken me. “My name is Karno and this is Leo, who I’m sure is sorry for his comment earlier…” the god he referred to huffed and looked away in frustration, “this is Teorus and the one over there is…” for some reason my mouth moves on its own and I answer for him “Hue.” All eyes land on me once again, “I… I mean, he looks like a Hue?” the men all frown except for my intended mate, he looked upon me with eyes that glimmered with hope. “His name is Huedhaut. Now to get right to business, we need for you to help us with our work while we find a way to resolve our sin marks. You see, we can only grant wishes if we have our powers and we can only have our powers if we touch you, former goddess.”

So many thoughts run through my head as I gaze at Karno. What does he mean by former goddess? For all that is good, I need to get out of here. The reason we were hidden so long ago by the first king was not only due to us being looked down upon; but also because our kind and other rare species were being hunted for sport by the gods. My uncle would often recount long tales of fierce battles were many wolf-bearer and dragon lives were lost. The first king of the heavens felt disgust towards his children and created the island we now inhibit in order to protect us. The wolf-bearer species, or lycanthropes as people refer to them, were able to live on their own and mask their presence. There’s just no way I can be what these gods claim. I suddenly feel a gentle tug of my hair as I regain my focus. “Goldfish, your hair is so beautiful; I love your purple highlights, they match your lilac-colored eyes.” I gasp as I notice the proximity of the god Teorus and quickly slap his hand away and re-shift myself to a farther distance. “Wow, calm down, I’m not going to harm you!” I snort at his reaction. “Right, you just need me, blondie. Alright, from the looks of it, these ‘sin’ marks were placed on you for a reason, I’m not really sure I should trust you. That being said, if it gets you all off my back tonight, then I agree to help, but only after I am done with my job. Now, can I go home now?”

Leo walks toward me, frustration tracing through his beautiful face, “why aren’t you scared or surprised by us goldie? Why are you in such a rush to leave?” I huff in response to his questioning, “your existence may be myth now a days, kitty, but not much in life scares me, to answer your first question. Secondly, I’m tired after a long day at work and now I find I need to help YOU in addition to everything else I do, color me unimpressed.” Leo walks away from me grunting as the other gods gawk at me. “Look fellas, my comments will only get worse throughout the night, because, again, I am tired. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon to assist you, you decide who I help first. And no more of this ‘goldie’ or ‘goldfish’ business, I am a person and should be respected as such.”

Huedhaut is the first to break the silence in the room after my statement “the lady has spoken, gentlemen. I will take her home.” He comes towards me and motions for me to follow him, my blood seems to heat up once again as he nears. “Wait!” Teorus speaks up, “is your hair natural?” I brake a smile for the first time in the evening and turn back to see him, “yes, it is and so are my eyes.” He stares at me wide-eyed, “wooooooow, beautiful!” I turn and follow Hue once again as I waive my hand in the air giving the men my farewell for the night.

Hue walks me down a long corridor that leads to a door in the mansion. “How did you know my name?” He asks out of the blue. My heart beats faster and fear rushes through me, but something inside pushes the truth out of me. “I’ve seen you before, countless times, in my dreams. I don’t understand what it means, but your face has never escaped me. Seeing you in person, it just sparked something within and your name surfaced. But please, pay it no mind, I’m sure its nothing.” I smile awkwardly, but the god looks as if he is ready to cry, but still, he opens the door for me and motions for me to enter “good night, Rhea.” I smile as I pass by him, “good night Mr. Huedhaut.”

I enter my room once again and face plant onto my bed. The door behind me closes and I finally feel free to follow through with my freak-out. Why? Why did this happen to me? And a mate? Now of all times? I’m not sure I’m ready for that commitment. To humans, mating is different, but to a dragon, it means a mate for life; loyalty, love, passion, protection all of it in the upmost and purest form for one individual. To a dragon, there will never be anyone else, our lives are to be linked forever. But to a god? Ugh, and now I need to help them as well?

I grab my cell phone and contact my uncle, my only source of comfort. I explain to him all that has occurred, his distress could be sensed through his voice. “Rhea, I… I’m so sorry sweetheart. You are more special than you know. Never, during the entire existence of dragons, has there been a female.” I almost drop my phone due to the shock, “I know, I told you that it was due to your parents’ coupling, but in reality, male dragons always mated with female human or wolf-bearers only to produce more male offspring. You are the first of your kind, and not only that, but sweetheart, you possess the stars of a god in your eyes.” I feel as if the air has been knocked out of my system. “Rhea, I had hoped to mate you with one of your kind, but due to your visions, I felt someone else was fated for you. Sweetheart, only you know what to do from now on, but please, try and keep our existence hidden from them. If you can’t and you need to defend yourself, then do so and call me, we will save you.” Tears fall from my eyes freely, this is too much, nausea hits me instantly “uncle… I love you. I… I will do my best, I just… I need time to think.” I hang up the phone and gaze endlessly at the wall in front of me. What in all of creation is going on? How can I be a former goddess? What am I to do?

#scm king #scm fanfic #scm huedhaut #scm dragon #voltage #voltage fanfic

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badcowboy69 · 7 years

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Unexpected part 3

Finished this in a more proper time frame and hopefully it’ll continue onwards this way. Third part of my ongoing story of Riley’s adventures in New Vegas with Travis. Part two can be found here Unexpected 2 Sweet and tender fluff this time around...new thoughts and emotions for both fellas. I actually quite like this one. It let me get into Riley’s head a bit more. @zoey-and-dakota hope I did well with that! Enjoy the lovely chapter under the cut for length. This one is sfw

Early mornings weren’t Riley’s thing...they never were...even before the war. However, this particular morning he was wide awake and quite anxious to get the day started. He was still in mild shock he actually attempted this journey and still couldn't believe he did it, but here he was. He doesn’t know fully what provoked him to take such an insane gamble by hiring a Vertibird pilot from the Brotherhood of Steel to fly him across the country to find Travis. It was a very risky move for many reasons. The unknown was a huge factor, but if Travis could pull it off by driving a motorcycle across the terrain then certainly a Vertibird could fly through the skies.

Although the travel was a big risk by itself, for Riley to actually find his cowboy lover was another chance with bad odds. If New Vegas was truly as huge and secure as Travis had described it, Riley might have a difficult, if not impossible, time locating him. For a stranger to roam around asking for the city’s co-owner might raise suspicions. There was also the issue that Travis might not even be here anymore. He did state that when his business with Mister House was over he’d be right back on his motorcycle zooming towards Boston to be with Riley.

However the biggest worry that had lurked in the back of Riley’s mind was what if Travis didn’t even want him back? What if the entire separation was a ploy to eliminate Riley from his life in the most painless way possible? When Travis left Boston over two weeks ago he was obviously devastated. Unfortunately, Riley knew all too well moments like that had high emotions and feelings could change quickly in separation. Travis could realize it wasn’t worth the bother coming back to Boston. Maybe in their separation he realized he didn’t even want to be with the redhead anymore. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, but it can also make it forgetful. Maybe Travis was so frazzled from his trip and business undertakings that he truly shoved Riley out of his thoughts. Seeing him again would be more of a burden than a blessing and it was best to let him go before things became too serious.

Three big risks were taken on this journey out west and all paid off nicely. Very nicely in fact. Not only did Riley get to the New Vegas outskirts unscathed, but it was Travis that greeted him at the gates. Even though the courier had no clue it was Riley in the unexpected craft it was still a relief to see him. Once Travis realized none of the happenings were a dream it was quite evident that he was thrilled to see him. From the exclamations of joy, to the tight embrace, to the kisses shoved all paranoid thoughts from Riley’s mind. Everything Travis did in their reunion proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was way more than overjoyed being reunited with Riley.

After a long night of catching up with amazing sex with his amazing boyfriend, Riley finally slept peacefully for the first time in weeks. He slept deeply and soundly for the most part, but yet his mind was still buzzing and going a million miles an hour. Of course he did his typical squirming and kicking, but this time his restlessness was for other reasons. This was all too exciting and he felt like a child at Christmas and was unable to stay asleep for very long.

Finally giving in, Riley now found himself lying awake and staring at the ceiling of the Presidential Suite with Travis dozing peacefully against his chest. Giving a contented sigh, Riley closed his eyes and snuggled down against the pillow. The black satin sheets on Travis’ queen sized bed felt glorious against his naked skin. Hell, Travis felt glorious against him for that matter! Reaching over to the nightstand, Riley blindly groped for his glasses and put them on bringing clarity back to his blurry world.

Blinking a few times allowing his eyes to focus, he gave an impulsive glance to his right in hopes to see the time, but this wasn’t his home back in Diamond City. For some reason Travis didn’t have a clock next to the bed and lifting his head to look around the room Riley saw he didn’t have one anywhere. No matter. Time was not important right now. Settling against the pillow again, Riley sighed and closed his eyes in contentment. As eager as he was to look around the large bedroom and take in all of the Mojave splendor Travis no doubt decorated it with, Riley wanted nothing more than to focus on his lover first.

Leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Travis’ head, Riley began to gently smooth Travis’ mussed up hair before sifting his fingers through the soft, black strands. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he fondly reminisced over their unusual first meeting so many months ago. Oddly enough it all started with Travis wishing to touch Riley’s hair.

Riley had seen the newcomer, who was always wearing a cowboy hat, drifting around Diamond City now and then, but never really paid him much mind. People always came and went through the small town and Riley didn’t have the time nor desire to befriend all of them, if any. However, the day came when he was approached by the lanky cowboy. He spoke in a low, shy drawl, but made his bold request quite clear. He wished to sift his fingers through Riley’s red hair. At first Riley was taken aback. Who in their right mind walks up to a complete stranger and asks something like that?

Still, the question intrigued Riley and he agreed and led Travis somewhere more private. The cowboy went ahead and fingered through Riley’s hair, but before Riley could make any moves himself, he instead got the man’s cowboy hat shoved down on his head. Looking up he watched in confusion as the man sprinted off. As he wondered what he might have said or done wrong, Travis returned shortly afterward and apologized. Apparently he simply wanted to play and be pursued.

Figuring it was worth a shot, Riley suggested they start over and invited him to his house for a drink. As both men drank and talked, it eventually became evident that Travis was interested in more than just that. It didn’t take long for more heavy flirting to happen which led to hot and almost desperate kissing. Eventually their urges could no longer be held back and they made passionate love on the couch. Come morning, Riley awoke hearing his front door close. To his surprise it was Travis returning as opposed to leaving like Riley has grown so used to happen with others. Travis simply had slipped out into the morning light to seek out breakfast for them. This was new and right then he realized that Travis was someone special and not a one time fuck. At least that’s what he dared to hope.

Through the weeks, which eventually turned into months, both men learned a lot about one another. They had long discussions that would literally last all night and into the wee hours of the morning. They also explored and tended to things together in the Commonwealth. Riley enjoyed sharing his world with the westerner and took delight in Travis’ enthusiasm for learning and seeing new things. Of course they also had the most amazing and mind-blowing sex. Travis could be quite shy at times, but Riley learned it didn’t take much to encourage, or even fire up the man from the Mojave. Once enticed, Travis proved to be just as spicy as the peppers he would eat with gusto.

It eventually happened where one was found the other generally wasn’t too far behind. They were almost inseparable. That was until the day came when Travis got a letter from his “boss” back home. He was being forced back immediately to New Vegas for some important business matters. It was unclear who was crushed more by the news, Travis or Riley. The remaining few days were dealt with best as possible, but both men were pained. When the day came for Travis to ride off towards the west on his motorcycle, he placed his coveted cowboy hat on Riley’s head before kissing him good-bye. The hat was Travis’ forever promise that he would always return to him. Regardless, a sickening knot formed in the redhead’s stomach as he watched Travis ride off in a trail of dust. He feared he saw the last of his courier.

Riley still doesn’t know what possessed him to track down Travis out in the uncharted Mojave wastes. Seeing Vertibirds flying through the Boston sky might have unwittingly sparked the idea. Having a few more drinks than usual while thoughts of Travis weighed heavily on his mind could have pushed it. No matter how it was conceived, the journey wasn’t something he thought up overnight. However, once the idea hit him it was all he could think about. Seeing Travis again was the main issue, but there was also the bonus of seeing if New Vegas was as fantastic as Travis made it out to be.

Even though Riley was friends with the Brotherhood of Steel, convincing a pilot to do this wasn’t going to be easy. It was no doubt forbidden and of course labeled as a suicide mission, but he had to try. It was with extreme luck Riley was able to find a pilot willing to do this and for a few hundred extra caps was able to keep the mission secret. It took much planning and cap saving and a few times Riley didn’t think it was going to succeed. Still, it happened and the outcome was more than what he was expecting. Travis was not only incredibly excited to see him, but the courier also rewarded the Vertibird pilot quite handsomely ensuring future flights back to New Vegas would certainly be guaranteed.

Now as he lay in content comfort in the Presidential Suite of the Lucky 38 with his dear Travis in his arms, Riley felt an unfamiliar serenity flowing through him. The feeling was foreign to him, but it was one he had felt centuries earlier at least a few times. Pushing thoughts about it away for now and letting out a long, blissful sigh, Riley began to once again sift his fingers through Travis’ hair. It was a true amazing turn of events that began with a random question about hair to where they are now. Chuckling, Riley shook his head still in mild disbelief that all of this was even possible. Had he read this kind of story in a book he would have thought the author had a high sense of creativity and imagination.

Opening his eyes, Riley looked down at the man still dozing on his chest. He looked so innocent and peaceful, but even Riley knew better than that. Travis could be a handful at times. He was extremely playful and full of energy and sometimes rather curious. Those traits, however, were mild compared to the wicked glee the courier has in setting things on fire or blowing them up. Riley could only hope that such a dangerous hobby wouldn’t literally blow up in his face.

Almost as if knowing disapproving images were being thought of him, Travis squirmed and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath while his hand glided absently over Riley’s chest. The courier flinched and mumbled again before snuggling against his partner. Once Travis settled down, Riley continued stroking the man’s hair. It would figure that the first time in ages for Riley to actually be awake before him, Travis was dead asleep.

Pushing the hair back on Travis’ brow, Riley took a moment to look at the barely visible scar over his right eyebrow. Had Travis never mentioned anything Riley might not have ever noticed it. Travis claimed it was much fainter than when he first got it over six years ago. Although it would eventually vanish from sight the scar would always be there. It would be a permanent reminder of Travis being shot in the head simply for doing his job. Riley frowned and tenderly rubbed his thumb over the fading mark. Why did people have to be so cruel? He sighed sadly and attempted to push the horrible thoughts of cruelty that was dealt to him in his own past out of his mind.

As Riley’s fingers absently traced over Travis’ ears, the courier slowly began to rejoin the waking world. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he twitched his moustache and inhaled deeply while tightening his hold on Riley. Furrowing his brow he lifted his head and turned to look up while feeling a pleasant warmth go through him as he stared fondly into his lover’s eyes. “Look who’s up early for a change,” he jested while pulling himself up to press his lips against Riley’s in a slow, tender kiss. “Are you hungry?”

Riley arched an eyebrow and laughed over the sudden and random question. “Somewhat. I take it you are?”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, but instead of leaping out of bed and scurrying off to the kitchen as Riley expected him to, Travis settled back down against him and nuzzled against Riley’s neck. “Last night was amazing,” he breathed against the freckled skin. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t either,” Riley replied sighing wistfully while gliding his fingertips lightly back and forth over Travis’ arm. “I’ve done a lot of impetuous things in my days, but this…” he trailed off with a soft chuckle.

While stroking Riley’s beard, Travis gave his cheek a delicate kiss and let out a sigh of contentment. “Glad you did. Now then...about breakfast!”

“Fine, fine!” Riley laughed, squeezing his man against him. “Go cook before you starve to death and before I get other ideas on how to start this morning.”

Travis gave a lascivious smile and brushed his moustache against Riley’s lips. “Sounds good to me, but I’ll hold you to sharing those iders later.” Giving Riley a kiss that slowly deepened, Travis suddenly pulled back right as he felt Riley’s arms tightening around him. “Go wash up. I got breakfast to make,” he smirked while squirming out of Riley’s hold and swung his legs over the edge of the bed to search for his boxers.

“You’re such a tease,” Riley whined and playfully gave Travis a nudge with his foot almost sending the courier off the bed. Sitting up to search for his own undergarments Riley asked, “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“Thought we’d get that tour of Mormon Fort. Maybe check out the Atomic Wrangler or stop by and see the Kings. Don’t matter none to me. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go. Tonight we can have a good dinner, go for a swim, see a show, gamble. Hell, Riles, there’s tons of stuff to do. I can even show you around all day here if you want. I know how much you liked the elevator. We can start there if you want.”

“Very funny,” Riley dryly replied while standing and stretching. He was stopped mid-yawn as he felt Travis suddenly embrace him and nuzzle against his neck. Wrapping his arms around him to return the hug, Riley rested his chin on top of Travis’ head and gave a blissful hum of approval. “It’s so intoxicating to be holding you again.”

Travis pulled back and looked up at him with half-closed eyes as the corners of his mouth lifted into a lazy grin. “You cain’t imagine how happy I am right now.” “I have a pretty good idea,” the redhead replied simply as he bowed his head down to place a tender kiss on his cowboy’s lips. Reaching up between them Riley began stroking the black hairs on Travis’ chin, smoothing them, before giving him another lingering kiss.

Gliding his hands over Riley’s bare back and into his hair, Travis smirked and purred, “Best be getting a move on, pard, or I might just be servin’ ya sausage in bed for breakfast.” “As tempting as that suggestion is, I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn it down at this moment,” Riley hesitantly replied while stifling the groan that was forming in his throat. “I’m sure getting water all the way up here isn’t going to be easy and is going to take me a while. Unless of course you have a spa or something downstairs.” Travis furrowed his brow and shook his head while pulling from Riley’s embrace. “Naw. Bathroom’s down the hall on the right. Go wash up, got plenty of time to do whatever you wanna do and then some. I’ll be in the kitchen fixing up some good belly-fillin’ grub.” Travis gave a wink then shuffled out of the room while yawning and scratching his head.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, Travis changed direction and went to the elevator instead and pushed the button on the intercom. There was a pause of static then Eli’s voice was heard. “Mornin’, mister! How’s things going with you and your man?”

Travis felt a wash of warmth surge through him and he looked shyly over his shoulder watching as Riley made his way down the hall towards the bathroom. “Right as rain, Eli, thanks. Listen, when you get the chance, send ED-E and Rex upstairs.” “Sure thing, pardner. Y’all have a great day, ya hear?”

Clicking off the intercom, Travis continued towards the kitchen and began to set up the coffee pot. A smile curled his lips as the strong, pleasant scent of the beverage began to fill the air while it brewed. Opening the refrigerator, Travis’ shoulders slumped at how barren it is compared to normal. He wasn’t expecting a guest after all. However, he was a cowboy and a survivalist and knew he’d be able to whip up a good and hearty meal for the two of them with what meager supplies he has. Grabbing a Brahmin steak, two gecko eggs, potatoes, onions, and a few other ingredients, Travis set up the counter in preparation to make one of his infamous omelettes.

Riley, on the other hand, was standing perplexed in the rather large bathroom of the Presidential Suite. To his left was a desk and a small table covered with neatly stacked papers and medical books. The large bookcase next to it was stocked with unbelievable amounts of medicines, stimpacks, braces, and other healing items on a few of its shelves. One shelf was dedicated to towels, shavers, and a little bowl filled with a variety of soaps. On the bottom few shelves were large metal pots, cleaning supplies and a clothes iron.

Grunting in approval, Riley continued further into the room. For some reason the two toilet and bathing areas were separated by a long curtain. It was an unusual set-up to say the least and possibly the designers cut corners by not installing a proper wall. Looking around, Riley smiled seeing the entire room was decorated nicely with old pre-war advertisements for Nuka Cola, Sunset Sarsaparilla, and Giddyup Buttercup. Random toys were on a small stand with a radio and more books were on the end tables next to the toilets. Empty beer bottles were also on the tables making Riley chuckle. Travis wasn’t as anal of a neat-freak as one might assume. Picking up one of the books, which was a science fiction novel, Riley flipped through it and was surprised seeing how perfect the pages were with no tears or creases. Setting the book down he made a mental note to definitely read it while he bathes.

Speaking of bathing, he thought and began looking around wondering where the bucket of water was he would need to wash up in. Not seeing one he was about to call out to Travis when he noticed a shaver and scissors sitting on one of the sinks. A fluffy cream colored hand towel was draped over the faucet and when Riley touched it he pulled his hand back in mild surprise that it was wet. Taking a chance he turned the knob and after a few hisses and spits of air, water came pouring out. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he gasped, not expecting running water. Shutting off the faucet he leaned over the bathtub and repeated the action. As like the sink, water rushed out with a good surge. Riley vaguely remembered Travis talking about baths and showers in New Vegas, but he never realized functioning indoor plumbing is what he meant.

Feeling rather giddy with these discoveries, Riley next pressed down on the handle of the toilet making it flush. He watched with child-like fascination as the water whirled down and refilled the bowl. Flushing it again, Riley moved on knowing he had to get washed before Travis began wondering what happened to him. He was already teased about his amazement with the elevator. The last thing he wanted was to be teased about the bathroom. He could just hear Travis saying, “Gosh, Riles, you got a kink for the bathroom now? Maybe we can start fucking in here! It’’ll make clean-up a whole lot easier.”

Smirking to himself, Riley returned to the sink and rinsed out the little towel while lathering it up with a bar of soap. Gritting his teeth from the combination of tepid water and cold air coming from the vent on the wall, Riley finally began to wash. Once he got used to the chill he wondered how Travis managed to enjoy taking a bath. There wasn’t anywhere for a fire or any sort of electrical element to warm the water. It was then a realization hit him and he wondered if there was still one more modest secret to be discovered here in Travis’ unbelievable bathroom. Daring to not even dream it might be possible, Riley shut the cold water off and twisted the knob for hot instead.

He remembered from the past one had to wait a few moments for hot water to come through. With the suite being so high up in the casino the hot water could take a bit longer to get there, that is if hot water even existed. After a moment Riley put his finger under the water, biting his lower lip in anticipation. However, it was no surprise to him that the water was still coming out just as tepid. Sighing in mild disappointment he reached for the knob when he noticed a small curl of steam rising from the basin. It vanished quickly, but he still spotted it. Gingerly putting his finger back under the water, Riley gasped loudly feeling the pleasantly hot water wash over his skin.

He cursed himself for not trying the knob sooner, but he never would have imagined it possible. Then again, if this place had air conditioning why wouldn’t it have hot running water? Squeezing the cloth out, Riley resoaked it and glided it over his face and neck, enjoying the comforting warmth it provided. His blue eyes glanced at the tub and he knew what he planned to enjoy later tonight when Travis got done showing him Mormon Fort. Grabbing a fresh towel off the shelf, he dried himself off and began to make his way towards the kitchen.

As Riley passed the elevator he was startled as the bell suddenly dinged indicating someone has arrived. The doors slid open and ED-E flew out beeping rapidly before zooming down the hall towards the guest room. Rex bounded out, spotted Riley and gave a happy bark as he jumped up on him demanding to be pet. “Well, good morning to you too, boy,” Riley laughed as he ruffled the fur on Rex’s neck. “Come on, let’s go see what Travis is cooking!”

Rex gave a few excited barks as he pushed away from him then bolted into the kitchen. Riley followed and casually leaned against the doorframe while crossing his arms in front of his chest. He watched in admiration as Travis scuttled back and forth tending to the sizzling pan of food, setting the table, fussing with the coffee pot, then back to the food again. He knew how much Travis loves to cook and seeing him at home in his element was a pleasure to behold. Pushing away from the door, Riley stepped into the vast kitchen and dining area.

As he was looking over the grand dining table with its seating for about twelve people, Travis caught his eye. The courier was grinning broadly holding a hot cup of coffee. “Hope you’re hungry,” he beamed, passing the cup to Riley. “Sugared it for you just how you like it.”

“Thank you and yes, I’m rather hungry,” Riley replied before taking a careful sip of the coffee. “By the way, yet again you held out on me, Travis. The running water was amazing enough, but hot water? All those months you were in Boston with me never once did you complain about the lack of such commodities.”

Travis shrugged as he motioned for Riley to take a seat. “Ain’t no use in squawking about something that can’t be helped. Y’all make due with what’s there. Who am I to come and complain? I was roughing it way before I got all this dropped in my lap. Hell, I still rough it just the same when I travel around so Boston wasn’t much different. Hell, ya don’t adapt, ya don’t survive is how I see it.”

“You’re something else, you know that?” Riley said with admiration as he took a seat at the table. Thinking back to the time spent in Boston it was true that never once did the courier complain about anything other than the occasional dirty or lack of sheets on beds. He took everything Boston threw at him with a smile and barely indicated how contrastingly different things were there compared to New Vegas. All of Travis’ vague ramblings about luxuries in New Vegas were always overshadowed by his talks about his adventures and life in general. When he did mention things it was never bragging nor said in ways to make anyone doing without feel bad or awkward.

“Dig in!” Travis exclaimed as he set a steaming plate of food down on the table bringing Riley out of his thoughts. “I’ll help get you set up with your unpacking after we eat then we’ll head out to the Fort if you wanna.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” he replied as he fixed his gaze on his partner who was happily playing with his cyberdog before getting himself a serving of food. Turning his attention to the dish in front of him, Riley began to poke at the fluffy yellow omelette with his fork. “So,” he began. “What’s all in this glorious concoction of yours?”

Sitting heavily on the chair next to him, Travis shrugged and said almost too casually, “Brahmin steak, potatoes and onions. Topped it all off with some shredded bighorner milk cheese, salt, pepper, and a wedge of tomato. Was gonna put jalapenos in ‘em, but I know you ain’t a fan.” Shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth, Travis turned to Riley with an arched eyebrow seeing he wasn’t eating. “Somefin wrong wiff it?”

“No, not at all. I’m simply amazed you have such a variety of fresh food,” Riley replied as he took a bite and suddenly found himself overwhelmed by the vast array of flavors. “Holy shit, Travis, this is fantastic!”

The courier chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. Grimacing, he poured more sugar into it and gave Riley a proud smile. “Glad you like it, but breakfast really ain’t my speciality. I’ll make grilled steaks with baked taters and a salad later tonight if you want. Hell, maybe I’ll even make a mutfruit pie for dessert!” “It’s a wonder why you’re not as big as a Super Mutant if this is how you normally eat,” Riley chuckled with a shake of his head. Travis gave Riley a playful nudge, scooped the last of the omelette in his mouth and stood to take the dish to the sink. “I see your insanely rapid eating habits aren’t just something you did in Boston,” Riley continued.

“Ain’t got time to waste eating slow now,” he replied eagerly as he refilled his coffee mug. “Got me a few morning tasks to take care of myself before we mosey outta here. Gotta get you unpacked too unless...you’re...plannin’ on leaving some time soon.” Travis said the last part almost in defeat and toed at the carpet. As much as he hoped Riley was here for more than a few days he knew not to get high expectations.

Fixing his gaze on the remainder of his food, Riley responded softly. “No. No, I’m not leaving anytime soon unless you need me to go. I know my coming here wasn’t exactly in your plans. I’m sure running this place probably has a lot of responsibility and I don’t want to get in your way. You already got in mild trouble once because of me. I don’t want to see you lose your status around here.”

Travis grunted in annoyance and in a few quick strides he was back at Riley’s side. Flipping a chair backwards, Travis straddled it like a horse and put his hand on Riley’s shoulder. “This place did just fine without me all those months I was with you in Boston. Ain’t nobody here gonna dictate how long you’re gonna stay other than you. Ain’t nothing gonna keep me from you ever again unless you will it. You can stay here as long as you wanna, but the deal is I gotta go back with you when you leave.” Riley looked up at him and held his gaze as if searching for some kind of jest with those words, but it was evident Travis was dead serious. “I mean it, Riley. These past two weeks was torture for me and I came to reckoning on a lot. Ain’t gonna happen no more. I ain’t gonna allow us to be apart unless that’s what you want. We probably got lots of shit to figure out eventually, but right now you’re here and you’re gonna be showed the time of your life.”

Riley continued to stare into Travis’ crystal blue eyes both surprised and flattered to hear the courier’s compliments. He knew how much Travis liked him and enjoyed his company, but this...he wasn’t expecting this. Riley then diverted his gaze to a spot on the floor and began to chew at his bottom lip. He was totally at a loss for words even though his mind was screaming at him to say something. Anything! Taking a slow breath Riley lifted his eyes and mustered up a nervous smile. “I’m...I’m really glad to hear you say that, Travis. I...I feel the same way.”

Travis returned the smile and did his best to contain his excitement hearing Riley’s demure response. During their two week separation Travis had come to realize that he not only loves, but is in love with Riley. His heart breaking from having to leave Riley justified those feelings he felt he might have. One wouldn’t be so miserable and heartbroken if love wasn’t involved. Travis wanted so badly to stand, gather Riley into a tight embrace and kiss his freckled neck and face all while declaring his love over and over. However, these wonderful feelings were still all technically new to Travis. Granted he had someone in his life before he had met Riley, but those feelings were nothing like this. The last thing Travis wanted now was to say something too soon and have it ruin things. Deep down he knew Riley had to feel the same way. He had to. One simply doesn’t randomly get into a Vertibird and fly thousands of miles to find someone on a whim. You did that either for love or revenge and Riley certainly wasn’t after the latter for any reason.

Still, as small and as insignificant as it might seem, their exchanged words spoke volumes and if nothing else reassured each man how they felt about each other. Travis knew he would tell Riley his full feelings one day soon and no doubt say those three small, but very powerful words to him as well, but for now he was content. After giving Riley’s shoulder a squeeze, Travis trailed his hand up into the man’s red hair. Leaning forward he gave him a tender kiss before standing. “I’m really looking forward to sharing my world with you.”

Feeling a flush of warmth go through him, Riley smiled to himself and finished the remainder of his breakfast. “I look forward to it, Travis. I can’t wait to see and do everything even if you truly want to take me for a ride up and down your elevator all day. I already have very good memories tied into that as it is. We can always...enhance them.”

Travis swallowed hard hearing that as he took Riley’s dish to the sink. “Y-yes we can. Got lots of other places we can make those kinda memories in though. Like you said we got two weeks of fucking to catch up on.” He turned to look at his partner and felt a shudder surge down his spine at the recollection of what they did in the elevator last night as well as everything else afterwards. “Ahhh...anyways, let’s get you unpacked. The faster we get things situated in here the faster we can head out. I’d like to get to the Fort before lunch and it gets too busy there. We won’t be able to socialize with a few of the people I want you to meet if that’s the case.”

“Sounds perfect to me, Travis.”

“Great!” Travis exclaimed, barely able to contain the excitement in his voice this time. “C’mon, Rex, let’s get ready to go bye-bye!” he called to his cyberdog and the pair bolted out of the room leaving Riley behind, amused at Travis’ sudden surge of energy.

As Riley slowly followed Travis to the bedroom he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He was still thinking about what Travis had exclaimed about not wanting to be apart from him ever again. He did wonder what shit needed figuring out that Travis mentioned, but for now Riley took things as they were. He had his own shit that needed figuring out as well. One thing for sure, taking the bold and very risky trip to New Vegas proved to be well worth all the fears and anxieties that came with it. Although he didn’t want to admit it just yet, the odds were certainly in his favor in regards to having someone in his life who would always be with him.

To be continued....

#travis blackfox #riley #i think i really like this one a lot #the boys can certainly have a lot of adventures in new vegas #lots more chapters ahead i'm sure #this is fun #long post #writings

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badbadbucky · 3 years

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WIP Weds 6/9/2021!!

Happy WIP Weds friends!

Here is a snippet from my novel, One of the Restless. In this chapter, the full moon has risen and Johnny has opted to keep the wolfed out Chris locked in his car until the full moon is over, rather than risk continung the trip to Salt Lake City. Johnny has parked his piece of shit Oldsmobile next to a field on an empty road and fallen asleep on the hood, and that is where we find him:

One moment, Johnny was dead asleep, the next, dread wrenched him to full wakefulness, but he didn’t open his eyes. The thing that had woken him up was a whisper. People. Close by.

There was another whisper, different from the first: “That a dog?”

“Shut up,” a third voice whispered fiercely. “Don’t wake sleeping beauty.”

Johnny’s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the handle of his folded knife digging into his back, close to his waist. He must have fallen asleep on top of it. He couldn’t tell if the men were looking at him or not, but he couldn’t open his eyes for fear of them figuring out he was awake before he had the knife in hand.

He listened closely. He could hear the muffled sound of Chris snarling and snapping inside the car. He thought he heard some footsteps moving down the ditch bank. Another set circled the car, but he’d lost track of the third.

Johnny continued to breathe steadily, and he inched his hand up toward the knife, so slowly he sometimes wasn’t actually sure if he was moving or not. He felt an itch in the center of his forehead, the feeling someone was watching him--one of the few strings that even non-stringers could sense--and so he stopped for a moment. The moment stretched into eternity. When Johnny could no longer tell if the feeling was still there or if it was just his own paranoia, he moved again, his fingertips closing around the handle of the knife.

A hand grabbed Johnny’s ankle and unceremoniously yanked him off the hood of the olds. Johnny’s eyes flew open in surprise. He held onto the knife as his dress rode up, dragging the bare skin of his back across the hood with a painful squeak. Johnny hit the ground hard. He tried to catch his breath, but couldn’t.

He whipped his head around, trying to get a sense for his surroundings, searching for any useful strings. Three men stood over him. Beyond the men, there was an old beat to shit pickup, it barely had a back seat, the headlights blared out across the field.

“Thanks for the ride, hombre,” one of the men said, holding up Johnny’s keys and jingling them. The man had an almost perfectly round face, he’d tried to give it some shape with facial hair, but it did nothing to make his head look like less of a cantaloupe. He looked over at another guy, who looked even stupider than he was tall, and he was at least 6’5 so that was really saying something, and tossed him the keys. “Shoot the dog. Let’s get outta here.”

Johnny still had the knife hidden in his hand. He had to wait for the right moment to use it, he pretended to still be stunned by the fall. The third member of their little group watched him, with a cruel glitter in his eye. He was a handsome kid, couldn’t have been more than twenty, thin but muscular, he wore a tight plaid shirt tucked into some even tighter wranglers. He’d apparently decided to give up after only doing up two buttons on his shirt. Johnny had grown up in places just like this all his life, he recognized every one of these fucks, he’d seen their faces a million times, and the kid was the most dangerous. He was able to easily hold his own with guys much older than him, people his own age were probably scared of him--all shaking their heads, he was too crazy, took things too far--a rattlesnake, as likely to bite his friend as his enemy, wishing and aching for things to go wrong.

The big fella pulled a pistol from the back of his sagging jeans. He held the key to the Old’s in the other. He slid the key into the keyhole, Chris snapped at him, strings of hot drool splattered the window. Big Fella jumped backward. “Ahh--” He looked at the other two men sheepishly, and shook out his hands. “It’s scary.”

A spark gleamed in the snake’s eyes. “I’ll do it.”

Big Fella instantly realized his mistake. Giving someone like the snake control of a situation with a rabid dog and a gun might be the last mistake he ever made. “That’s okay, I got it.”

“Yeah Jake, let Thumper handle it,” Cantaloupe said.

“Do it then,” Jake the Snake said. “We gotta lotta shit to do before sun-up.”

Johnny took advantage of the trio’s momentary distraction to open the blade on his knife, still keeping it concealed. The three men weren’t paying him any attention, figuring someone like him couldn’t be a threat.

Johnny had wrapped a few strings around his wrist. Powerful ones. He slid a steel grey string up from his wrist and tightened it around his knuckles. The string was a segment he had taken from a knife, when he wrapped it around his knuckles his punches would land like stab wounds. Johnny took a beat to make sure the other men were still ignoring him. They were, so Johnny used his knife to cut another string from his wrist. He threaded the string between his teeth, pushing it all the way to the gum line, all along his top row of teeth until he rang out of string. The sensation was just as horrific as it sounded, but it was a simple and effective weapon. He’d purchased the spool from his animal guy, the string was taken from a venom spitting cobra, and it allowed Johnny to spit venom. He hated the feeling of it, so he didn’t like to leave it in all the time. He had one other surprise tucked into the top of his boot. He really hoped he didn’t have to use it; it had been a huge pain in the ass to make.

Once Johnny was ready, he brought the attention back on himself, away from Chris. “Can I interject?” he said, playing up what his dad called the swishiness in his voice.

All three of the men whipped their heads toward him. “Shut the fuck up,” they said in perfect unison.

Johnny clapped. “That was impressive. Did y’all practice that? It was real nice. I liked it. I can see y’all now. Peter Paul and Mary.” He jabbed his finger at Cantaloupe. “You’re Mary.”

Cantaloupe lunged forward. “You fucking--” He was too angry to finish the insult.

Johnny had to handle Cantaloupe first. Johnny didn’t want the round-headed fuck sneaking up behind him while he was dealing with Jake the Snake.

The big one, Thumper, was a marshmallow; he wouldn’t do anything.

Johnny stepped up to meet Cantaloupe. Cantaloupe drew back his fist. He threw a punch and Johnny easily dodged it. He jerked Cantaloupe forward and trapped Cantaloupe’s arm under his own. Johnny bent at the waist--he was a couple inches taller than the other man--and headbutted Cantaloupe.

For once, Johnny had managed to put the headbutt in the right spot so as to avoid fucking himself up as much as he did his opponent. There was a muted crunch as their skulls collided. Cantaloupe’s melon was split. He crumpled to the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Thumper said, taking a step back. He raised the gun and pointed it at Johnny.

“Don’t! You dare,” Jake said.

Thumper lowered the gun down to his side.

Johnny whipped around to face Jake the Snake. Jake’s eyes were bright, sparkling in the red gloom. He was wound so tight he was almost dancing, his boots scuffing the asphalt--ready to pop, like a kid at Disneyland when they finally get to meet Mickey. He smiled at Johnny with all his teeth, though he still spoke to Thumper. “Don’t you dare.”

There was a small cut in the center of Johnny’s forehead from the headbutt. A single drop of blood trickled down between his eyebrows, driving him crazy, but he made no move to wipe it away, not wanting Jake to take it as a sign of aggression. He’d fight Jake when he was good and ready.

The healing strings he’d applied had done their work, he wasn’t completely healed, but he felt a week along rather than just a few hours. Healed enough to fight. Healed enough to win.

“So you’re a little bit of a hand,” Jake said.

“I don’t like to brag,” Johnny said.

“Modest too.” Jake was still standing too close to the door to the Olds for Johnny’s liking. The keys hung from the lock, all it would take was a twist, and Chris would be out. Johnny had to keep Chris in that car; he didn’t know if he’d be able to subdue Chris again if he got out.

Jake seemed to sense Johnny’s concern, and took a step closer to the door. He gave Johnny a sly smile. He lunged for the door, Johnny took a step forward with his hands outstretched, but Jake had only been faking. He laughed and stepped back. “Just checkin’ your reflexes,” he said.

Johnny calmed himself down. He needed this to be his game, not the Snake’s. “I know what you’re asking yourself,” Johnny said. “And this is your only chance to find out.” Johnny brushed his long hair back out of his face. He twirled his knife between his fingers. “Come find out.”

#wip wednesday #writing #writblr #writeblr #werewolves #horror #horror writing #trans main character #one of the restless

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