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vemuabhi · 3 years

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Disney Romance - Mermaid Mullan! - 200 followers special

Thankyou for requesting Bas!!! ( @basilisa-scorpii ) I was a bit nervous writing this! As you are one of my favorites and are so talented. Actually i too didn’t watch many movies. Only those 10 that I mentioned. My friend was in disbelief when I told her that I didn’t watch frozen. Apparently it was a big deal for her as he almost watched every Disney princess movie.

So, its my first fic writing for the 200 followers! Please read it without having any high expectations. I may not reach them.

Pairing : Zoro X Mermaid! Reader

Word count : 3.6K (Sorry, the concept was so interesting and I couldn’t stop)

Warnings : A long ass fic written by me, read at your own risk. CRINGE ALERT!, has magic, bad action scenes, happy ending or else I’ll cry, a lost marimo.

“Tsk… Lucky mermaids. They just get to go and play while I have to learn these stupid spells”, you opened the new book of spells, which had a brown cover and was very heavy. The cover had a design of a mermaid.

You started to read the spells. Being born in the clan of spells mermaid, you always thought that you were one of those unlucky mermaids who can’t just play with the fishes. You were a very young mermaid and didn’t understand the importance of them.

Growing up, these spells always helped to escape from so many troubles. You could even go to the land using these spells. Hiding your scales and turing your tail into legs.

One fine day in the ocean, while you were making preparations to go to the land, a white-haired half – octopus approached you. ‘Not again’, you sighed.

“What now Ursula? I need to leave”, Without hiding your irritation, you asked her.

“Y/N going to the land again? Why won’t you use my help? I’ll turn you into a human then you don’t have to rely on your powers and get weak every time”, she said as she twirled around you.

There are many powers that can be mastered in the spell book and your main power being in Teleporting but you did learn many other spells, including turning your tail into legs. But every thing has a counter action. The more demanding the spell, the more of a toll it pays on your body by making you weak, leading to even death. Taking your real mermaid form and taking rest in the ocean can help you regain your power.

“The princess asked me for legs and I gave her what she needed”

“The princess? Why did she ask you for legs?”

“Love, she was in love with a man, are you also in love?”

“No and I’d never do that for a silly thing as Love”

“But, you are going to Land using your powers. Aren’t you tired of it dear”

You sighed at how she never gave up on you. “Why? So that you can take my spell book or my family sapphire stone?”, your eyebrow raised with annoyance. She gulped and tried to open her mouth to say something but too late. You weren’t interested in listening to her so you snapped your fingers and Teleported to land.

You didn’t like to teleport when people were talking but you didn’t want to listen to her toxic convincing again. Like hell you needed her powers. You’d rather lose your powers then to give her your spell book or the sapphire stone, which was now, in the necklace you were wearing. It was also called as the second chance.

You went to the small house mostly made of stones. It was just had 2 rooms. You opened the box which you found in the ruined ship and wore the male clothes which were in it. After coming to the land you observed that, most of the men would be creepy when you were wearing women clothing, which lead you to throw those men away. When you wore men clothing, no one glanced at you. And you didn’t get the chance to waste your powers. So you preferred to be dressed as a man.

You took the gold coin which was actually the last one you had in the box. ‘I need to find a way to stock these’, you thought as you started to make your way into the town. Apparently, these people got super mad at you when you ate and tried to leave. They called this… money? If you remember correctly.

At first it was pure curiosity what the Land was of. But after being addicted to the food here, you couldn’t help but to come back regularly. While in the sea all it was available was sea weed and raw food. It was good but it wasn’t even comparable with the food on land. The humans had some tasty food called fruits. And they were of different varieties like mango, orange, apple, berries etc. Oh, how delicious the meat was, when it was cooked. So, you kept coming here using your powers. The food was worth it!

You headed towards the place where the old humans make food, you were their favorite customer as you always gave them a gold coin every time you visited. They were poor and the gold you gave them, helped them to even get out of the debts. You reached the place and started to eat while some people quarreled. But you didn’t care. All you looked at was the food before you. You were always given a small size powerless trident and a small sword with it. You didn’t know why they were used.

“HEY IDIOT! ARE YOU THE ONE WHO ALWAYS GIVES GOLD COINS? GIVE THEM TO ME”, someone shouted but you were too busy in eating.

“Sir please, leave our customer. That man is being very kind to us old people”, pleaded the old man but he didn’t care.

“You jerk! Why the hell are you ignoring me?”, some one slammed their hand on your table making your apple almost fall down. ‘Unforgiveable’

You glared at the man beside you as he grabbed you by the collar and pulled you up, just before he punched you, you snapped your fingers and he froze in his place. He couldn’t move. You clenched your fist and punched him in the face making him fly across the room.

Everyone stopped doing what they were doing and looked at you in disbelief. The person you punched was a strong guy who always took peoples valuables. A green haired soldier was totally stunned. ‘A person this strong was in a small town like this’, he thought. He went towards the person who was trashed by you and noticed that he was knocked out. ‘It seemed a bit different but, that guy can help a lot’, he thought. The soldier turned around to look at you but you were already leaving.

Placing the money which was required to pay on the desk, the green haired man ran in your direction. “Hey dude!! Wait a minute!”, he called to you. But you were busily eating the apple which had the pretty red colour.

‘I need to get more of these golden coins. Maybe the ship which crashed in the western side has some of these’, making plans on how to get more of these, you walked towards the shore.

You then felt a hand on your shoulder which made you to stop. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes met with black orb. The man had green hair and a scar on one of his eyes. He was muscular and well built. He had three golden coloured earrings on one of his ears.

“Hey dude! I wanna talk to you”, he said removing his hand from your shoulder. You took a bite of your apple and turned towards him. You raised one of your eye brow at him as you folded your arms.

“I am so amazed that a powerful man like you is in this small town. Actually, seeing you fight that rogue, I wanted to ask you if you’d come to the war and be a soldier, like me”, he said with a proud smile.

After listening to the weird man, You turned around and started to walk towards the shore. His smile curved into an awkward one as you walked away. “HEY!! I’m NOT DONE! LISTEN TO ME ONCE”, trying to stop you he shouted again. But as his attempts failed, he ran again and stood before you blocking your way. You glared at him because of it.

“Listen to me. I mean no harm. I’m Zoro, a solider of the Straw Hat army”, he introduced himself as he took your hand and shook it. ‘What… What a weird man’, you thought looking at him.

“You see, we want to use all the help needed to destroy the beard Kingdom. So, come with us and be a soldier of the Straw hat army”, he said.

“Why do I need to fight for your army. I don’t wanna involve in these fights”, you said sternly, speaking for the first time to the man.

“Why not? Just join us. We are fighting on the good side. We wanna give freedom to the people of beard Kingdom”, he inhaled and continued, “If you join I’ll make sure you get good food and 500 pure gold coins”. He was really determined to win the war and also claimed that he wanted to free some people.

You could get the gold coins from many ruined ships, but the way he looked at you with determination to win in eyes you couldn’t help but to sigh. “Let’s meet here tomorrow at exactly at dawn”, with that you continued to walk towards the shore.

“I never caught your name”

“Its Y/N”, you say without turning around but smirked. He was the first human you ever told your name to.

His eye clearly lit up and he grinned as he said, “I’ll waiting, Y/N”. He didn’t notice that his heart definitely did skip a beat then.

Swimming deep into the ocean, you reached your house with in 10 minutes. Before sleeping, you took the spell book and started to refer it again even though you’ve read it multiple times. You still had 12 hours till dawn and it’s be sufficient amount of time till you regain your energy.

As the first rays of sun hit the country, Zoro looked at how beautiful the sea looked. He was mesmerized by its beauty.

“Hey”, you almost startled him.

“What the… when did you come here? How did I not notice?”, he said with confusion in his eyes.

“Lets go now”

“Ye…Yeah. Let’s go”, he said leading you forward. ‘This person is hiding something’, he thought

“Hey”, you call him as he turned to look at you.

“Why are you going towards the sea?”, as soon as you said that, his cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

“Don’t tell me you don’t even know the rout-”

“I know!”, he said interrupting you and opening the map. You peaked at the map and then looked at him. He was sweating.

“Give, just give it to me”, you took the map and continued, “So where is the location”

“Here”, he pointed towards a white surface on the map. “If we go quickly-”, you tooe his hand in yours and closed your eyes, “We can reach in maybe 5 days”, he ended as you snapped your fingers. He just looks at the place before him. Your eyes open wide upon seeing the white substance in front of you. Your hands hug you as the place was very cool but you were truly in awe by the view.

But Zoro was actually speechless. “What? How? Why? When? Its not even been 5 seconds”, he screamed and continued, “What are you actually? Are you using some sort of Magic?”, he then sneezed.

“I used a spell. Now don’t make a fuss about it. Anyone can do it”, you replied

“NO ONE CAN DO IT!”, he screamed again only for you to ignore.

“What is this white substance”, you asked him as you slowly crouch down and touch it. It was soft and very cold, Making your hand numb. But you were amazed by it.

“Its snow. Don’t do that, your hands will become numb”, he said and took your hands in his and started to rub them. You heart skipped a beat and you didn’t know why.

“Lets go. I think, I know the way from here”, he said and pulled you up with him. With your hands still in his he walked forward. Even though your knees felt weak, you kept walking. He talked about the prince and how great he was.

After 10 minutes, you both saw some men with weapons in the area. With one swift motion, Zoro attacked them and knocked them out. You were actually surprised. You didn’t even notice when he left your side and attacked them. He held three swords at a time. You never saw a person so perfectly using three swords. Oh god, he looked like a demon. He pulled the clothes from those men and handed you one. “Wear this sweater. I don’t want you to get sick”

You wore it and it felt really warm all of a sudden.

“Woah!! Its so warm, fells like Magic”, you smile pulling the sweater even closer to you.

“Tsk… you call this magic and call your spell normal. I cant understand you”, he again took your hand in his. “Don’t… Don’t get it wrong. Its only because I brought you here so its my responsibility to keep you safe”. You place your thumb on his wrist and observe that his heart beat was increasing.

“Your heart beat is increasing”, you said making him glare at you.

After walking for a while, you notice a building ahead of you. It was black in colour and had black smoke coming out from it. Suddenly Zoro stops in his tracks.

“Is it the secret base of straw-hat kingdom, you were talking about”, you asked him.

“It’s the secret base of Beard Kingdom that we are searching for past 1 month. Oh my! We found it Y/N”, he said with a smirk on his face. You snapped your fingers and made the black smoke red hoping someone from the straw hat base see it.

“No, you found it. I just waked with you. What type of shit directions you have”

“Hey! That’s not true. I… I actually was planning to search this with you. But whatever we found it!”, he grinned looking at the building.

“Don’t tell me you wanna take them on all by yourse-”

“What are you saying? I have you now! Let’s kill them Y/N”, he said taking his swords and positioning them. He was a demon. But your heart started to race. It was because of this jerk.

“Ok! Lets go”, you said and silently you both infiltrated the base. Knocking out who ever came across your way.

‘Damn it. There are a lot of people here’, you thought as your breathing became heavy and your legs gave out.

“Y/N, you okay?”, Zoro whispered getting close to you.

“I’m fine”, you said. This wasn’t the time to wine and you knew it.

“Thankyou. Its dawn and everyone are mostly sleeping. So lets just finish this off and leave”, he said as he placed his hand behind your waist and in one swift motion he pulled you up. Your heart skipped a beat. AGAIN. ‘This is just like the useless romance novels I read’, you thought. ‘Do I like him by any chance?’

“Lets go”, he said facing the opposite direction that you actually should go.

“We need to go this way”, you said to him as he blushed and walked in the correct direction. ‘Definitely not’, you concluded and continued to trash the soldiers in the way. You were late once and a bullet hit your shoulder. Still you didn’t give up.

“Y/N! I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to get you treated by our doctor”, Zoro shouted as he slashed another person, who was twice as big as him.

After a while, you knew, you really needed the ocean. Your body was getting weaker. Teleporting to a really far place with another person, being hit by a bullet and continuously knocking out these strong ass soldiers is really getting hectic.

“You did great Y/N, its okay. Leave now, ill take care of the rest!”, Zoro said but you got determined even more to fight.

“What? I don’t take orders, especially from humans. Lets see who gets more knockouts”, you said. Zoro didn’t know if he should be happy that you didn’t give up or be concerned that you called him a human? So were you not one?

Snapping fingers, you teleported Zoro from one enemy to another and sometimes yourself to win over the enemies. Your shoulder was turning into a shade of purple, but you were too busy to notice. He soon got used to your help. “You make one hell of a partner!”, Zoro said looking at you as he stood on a pipe which was approximately 10 feet above you. You smirked as a big sound made you to look at the strong wooden door.

“WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING HERE!”, A man with a big beard shouted. You snapped your fingers and Zoro was beside you in a second.

“That’s Beard. We need to destroy him”, Zoro mumbled as he proceeded to run further. You were ready to go with him but your vision completely became black and you fell to the ground.

“Y/N!”, Zoro called out to you but you didn’t wake up. You could hear him. You wanted tell him to escape. Then you heard an explosion.

“BEARD!!! I’LL KICK YOUR ASS!!”, an unfamiliar voice was heard.

“Jeez Luffy! Could you hold your horses?��

“NAMI!!!! I’m Scared!”

“Shut up Ussop! We need to protect the peopl- Ladies! *ahem*”

That was too late. Luffy was already fighting with Beard at this point. With the prince fighting, all Straw hat soldiers started to fight with Beard Army.

“Y/N! Y/N Wake up!! Please wake up!”, Zoro took your body in his arms and shook you trying to wake you up.

‘I want to see you one last time’, you thought before your hearing also faded away.

“Please wake up. Don’t die”, he shook you like crazy.

“Don’t do that Zoro! Let me take a look at the wound”

Handing you over, Zoro clenched his jaw. “Please don’t let him die”, he said and positioned himself.

“ASHURA”, he said and went full demon mode on the Beard Soldiers.

After winning over the Beard army everyone was really relieved. But they didn’t celebrate. Knowing one of their soldier was in a critical position.

The doctor checked your pulse and you weren’t alive. He sighed and got up. Covering you with a blanket, he walked out.

“How is he?”, Zoro asked as soon as the doctor stepped out.

“That was a girl and sadly her pulse stopped”, the doctor replied only for Zoro to grab his collar and ask again. “What did you say? It cant be happening. He i mean She cant die, do something”

“I’ve tried everything, I’m sorry”, the doctor said and Zoro let go of him.

He went inside the room to find you covered with a blanket. He pulled the blanket down to see your face again. He sat beside you and took your hand in his.

“I’m sorry. I made you come here even when you clearly didn’t want to. I am sorry”, he apologized holding your hand tightly. “Is there any spell to bring you back. If there is, I wish you to come back, please get a second chance”

Then he saw the sapphire necklace glow. He was shocked at this. If anyone would’ve told him that magic existed a few days earlier, he’d have brushed it off. But after seeing you, he believes in it.

Just when you felt that you were surrounded with nothing but light, your ocean coloured necklace glowed, as if it was calling you back. You opened your eyes and could see light and also a person with green hair. His face lit with happiness and he hugged you.

“Zo...ro”, you called as he pulled back to look at you.

“Y/N! You are alive!”, he said as he took your hand and kissed it.

“You!! You Human! How could you!”, your cheeks turned pink at his actions.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were a girl?”

“I never said that I were a boy”

“You are alive again so I’ll let it slide for now, also that stone and those scales on your cheek”, he said and you snapped your fingers to hide the scales.

“Whatever… I saw that you cried when I died”, you blabbered but it turned out to be true as his cheeks turned red.

“I did not”, he tried to hide his embarrassment but failed. You chuckled at his reaction and he smiled at you.

“EHHH!!!! YOU ARE ALIVE!!!!”, the doctor screamed looking at you then suddenly a weird guy with a straw hat came in beaming with energy.

“SUGOI!!! You are alive! then we all can celebrate on the occasion of you being alive and also winning the war!”, he said coming towards you.

“I guess… Thanks”

“Show me your powers when you get well okay!”, he said as he gave you a wide smile and left.

“Was he the prince Luffy that you are so fond of”, Zoro nodded

“He is the man worthy to become a King. But tell me this, are you a fish?”

“Actually, that’s not totally wrong. I’ll tell you what you need to know. Let’s teleport again after some time.”

The next day.

“Its… Its actually pretty cool. I never thought I’d see a half fish and half human”, Zoro said as he tugged on your tail.

“Ouch! Be careful. The tail can be strong but it is also very sensitive, and can you please start using the word mermaid”, you said splashing water on him.

“So, tell me. How strong are the mermaids? Are they all as strong as you?”, he curiously asked not hiding the intent to fight. You chuckled and started to tell him about the creatures of the ocean. But its just been 3 days since you met him, but you two already had a.... weird connection.

Zoro tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and looked into your eyes. The timing was so perfect. Maybe it was because he was there. You moved closer to kiss him and he also returned it. Maybe the mermaid princess wasn’t totally wrong to choose love…

XOXOXOXO

Thankyou for reading. I warned you with cringe alert in the beginning but if you made it through the end, congratulations!

Comment your feelings down in the comments!

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matchamorphosis · 4 years

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || ari punishes you for being a brat during your date out at the summer carnival

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || pure filth, smut with some fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || modern AU agent!ari levinson × [black//woc]!reader + crossover!ransom drysdale

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 4K ⟶ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw daddy!kink, age gape: reader is twenty one and ari is thirty five (don’t like, don’t read), heavy language, dirty talk, punishment: overstimulation, eating out, blowjob + spanking mention, movie crossover! + you might get a cavity just from reading this

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || melting by kali uchis ♡ angel by kali uchis ♡ honey baby (SPOILED!) by kali uchis

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || this was initially for @jtargaryen18’s writing challenge #30DaysofChris but i took a long break in the middle of writing it, sorry for the long wait lovely! ♡ this took less time to edit and write than i thought and believed but i hope you guys enjoy it just as much! ♡ reminder : italic means flashback, bold italics means thoughts/exaggerated dialogue, and non-italic/bold means present!

+ p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡

my storybook ღ join my taglist

BABY THIS IS A WONDERLAND

when your tongue licks the bittersweet honey glaze of my pussy lips, where my sinfully divine bubblegum dreams collapse with your good boy deeds but you just keep licking my core desperate. ‘cause baby the milk that leaks from the honey hive in between my thighs is like a strawberry cone to you- and your going to lick me up before I melt under your hot gaze.

"Ari," your meek whimper spills but he keeps licking.

as if he's trying to break the dam that'll give him the strawberry milk that will quench his undying thirst. you’re stuck in this pleasurable killing punishment, if only you knew to stop when you were told to. listen to the voice in your head to stop acting like rotten spoiled brat and you’d have the pleasure to grind your honey slicked cunt against his bearded face.

if only you listened...

"behave," Ari growled into your ear.

the single command is enough for you to roll your eyes and stick your tongue out up at him and so you do. of course Ari is used to seeing this brat but he was sure that with a glare or two you’d clean your act up but you’re still continuing your rotten attitude.

no, you don't want to fucking behave.

subtly walking away from him to the cotton candy vendor, the sound of the man pouring the sugar into the spiraling machine is music to your ears. a glare marks your sharp roseate lined eyes and a pout pulls at your glossed lips, all focused away from Ari but he still sees your rage.

it really wasn’t fair how he expected himself to go on this carnival date with you but not do the one thing that made you want to go. all that adding on that he expects you to behave and not be upset, it wasn’t for and you weren’t planning on calming down.

not even a little tiny bit, cause you want to go into the tunnel of love with him. all the small promises and little compromises made throughout the day as you and him walked and played the colorful tent games did he promise you that you and him would ride.

Ari knew how much this meant to you, you always wanted a special someone to sit besides the romantic boat ride with ever since you were a small girl.

it was his fault that he fell in love with a hopeless romantic, someone yearning to allow themselves be enveloped within the arms of their lover. feel their warmth as the red violet lights start to dim, kiss your lovers lips when you two meet the darkness. giggle when he confesses his sweet darling thoughts of you, you were a romantic for gods sake.

you wanted it so bad, yet every time you seem to mention it Ari deflects the topic with something else. another question or comment or confront your claim in the most abrupt yet sweet way possible.

“not now sweetheart, later maybe-”

“babydoll, do we really have to go in there?”

“it’s to much of a risk for daddy, honey bear!”

he would sweeten those claims up with kisses that would butter your mouth like the popcorn he hand fed you. it was tiring Ari out with your demands to ride The Tunnel of Love but now as he stand there witnessing his precious apple dumpling turn into a rather rotten and bratty apple he may fully turn down the conversation.

on top of that your pink and white gingham sundress displays a bit too much cleavage and leg for Ari’s liking. well he doesn’t like the dress, he loves it but he wouldn’t want you going out displaying it for everyone to see besides him. the nymphet styled cloth you walk so confidently may or may not have half the boys and men eyeing you everywhere you go.

this scene, the boys and grown men undressing you with their list filled hues and eye fucking you with every step your platforms take does make Ari want to snap at them. wonder if their mothers taught them better than to gawk, glare at the silly pubescent boys until they run away shitless. maybe intervene with the lustful stares of the men with a double fist threat.

it doesn’t ease the fire behind his eyes and the clenched fist he has when he’s noticing your smirk- the pounce in your stride that you seem to enjoy the attention.

the very way you bend down near the mirrors of a souvenir cart to re-apply the amber peach lipgloss to your lips is almost intentionally teasing for both Ari and anyone else watching. the way you glance at him through it, lashes batting and your glimmer hint hues screaming fuck me

he now knows this is all part of your game of acting up, you think you can get what you want from disrespecting his order and authority. it was so cute to him how you thought you could get away with your spoiled behavior.

sooner then later Ari is going to bend you over and teach you a lesson on teasing him in public.

the taste of strawberry cotton candy and buttery popcorn is still fresh and lingering in your mouth but you want to taste your juices on his candy red tongue.

"Ari," you carp, his tongue just keeps lapping up at your labia. unbothered and unfazed as hair spills over his forehead, he doesn’t care for he smiles when your plush thighs cage his face.

the continuous strokes of his talented tongue make your pussy flutter and spine shiver. wishing he’d push a fingers or two, god those thick fingers could undo any orgasm from you in matter of seconds. the thought makes a little drool seep from the corners to your mouth and you hug the large blue raspberry bunny Ari won for you closer to your chest. smelling the fruity scent as you whimpered when he bit at your cunt and kissed it better.

you’ve kept the fluffy berry scented stuffie close when Ari striked your ass cheeks earlier wit the same hands that keep your thighs gaped now. allowed you to have that dear comfort as he took on punishing you with his rough spanks.

the burning hand prints are probably visible now just as the wet tears around your eyes. the same streams that stained your peachy cheeks have dried but it wasn’t just your teasing that brought you up in your well deserved punishment.

no, you were in much deeper trouble than for that…

after your little tease show Ari figured to let you have your way, for now. it was always best for him to let you have your way since you were generally upset about not riding on the Tunnel of Love.

now, the golden rays of the sun setting radiated your glowing figure, hand with Ari’s the other holds your frosty pink cotton candy as you take the last bites of it. glancing up at Ari, you see the almost finished chocolate sprinkle swirled ice cream cone in his hand being treated with long slow licks.

attention going from the melting cone to his tongue you can’t help but want it.

want his hot tongue on you, in you.

you want it so so bad that you’re caught off guard when he smirks, not looking at you at all but feeling your stare. he feels your needy wants, knows the devious perverted thoughts going on in your pretty head and its all a dead giveaway when you hold his hand tighter before turning your head away from him.

your sudden shyness makes him let out a laugh. finishing the small cone within a few licks and bites. damn you are a contradiction of innocence and dirtiness that only helps his blood pound in devotion and cock harden in desire.

“what did we say about manners princess? it’s rude to stare at people while they’re eating,” Ari’s deep hushed words rattle your thoughts.

“I know daddy, I-” your words almost stumble when you feel the cool chocolate breaths wave upon your ear and his muscled arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“is my princess getting needy? politely tell daddy what you want and maybe he’ll give it to you,” Ari whispers with a soft yet quick peck behind your ear, it’s almost enough for you to whine for more.

Ari knows you just can’t have that, it doesn’t even fill in a teaspoon of the battered lust that needs to be soothed. you really weren’t good at telling him what you wanted, sure physical and replaceable things weren’t an issue, clothes, purses, shoes, books. lets make it clear, if you see it, like it and want it- Ari bought it without hesitation.

however in situations like these, it wasn’t as if it was easy or hard to tell him what you want or what you want him to do to you. you just want him to just touch you, to feel his delicious large and warm hands- his gifted mouth on you already without being asked so many teasing questions.

“I want your tongue, daddy,” your words almost stumble out.

eyes to his now, they flutter innocently at him, biting your bottom lip you look down to notice the small tent at his pants and you smirk. given that rather rude action Ari’s hand that’s on your side goes down to grope the curve of your ass, giving it an equally gentle yet painful squeeze.

“you want daddy’s tongue princess? first tell daddy where you want it-” his sentence was interrupted by the loud vibration of his phone.

buzzing in his pocket you scoff at him when he takes it out to look at the pixel name displayed on the small screen. rolling your eyes when he doesn’t put it away you cross your arms, and let out a huff glaring up at him.

"daddy! mhmm!- daddy no more!" his eyes snap to yours, the sight of you makes him lick his lips.

shiny hair sprawled in all directions, face clouded with lust, the neckline to your pretty dress folded down to reveal your plump tits covered in his love bites. he’s trying his hardest not to give in to the throbbing temptation and smash his mouth against yours, take handfuls of your tits and fuck you till you can only say his name.

but he has much more control than that, he isn’t a needy baby like you. drooling at a few licks to your messy cunt and tits, god Ari knew he was lucky to have landed such a woman like you and you were his to bring as many orgasms as possible.

even if you didn’t want them, you were his little baby and his baby had rules to follow. breaking those rules resulted in punishments and as much as it hurt him to see you cry and whimper it was getting his cock hard to.

“now princess you wanted daddy’s tongue, and now you have it. that’s what you wanted so that’s what you’re going to get.” he muses as you licks your sensitive over-stimulated folds.

“but daddy you gave me four cummies already!-” you fumble into somewhat of a sob but the cry stops once Ari pinches the meat of your inner thighs making you whine at the sudden pain. “ouchy!” you snap, hating these painful thigh pinches but adoring the slow pussy licks.

“i’m teaching you a lesson princess, you’ve been such a fucking brat today so i’m going to treat you like a fucking brat.”

“but daddy!-”

“but what, princess? Daddy told you to stop but you never listen, you’re such a bad listener.” the tinge of disappointment is heartbreaking. tears swimming in your eyes knowing you have let your daddy down and you only wish at that moment -no matter how overstimulated your pussy- you’d go back in time an hour ago to prevent yourself from acting up.

“i’m sorry daddy-” the little broken sob that slips between your trembling lips makes Ari question himself if he’s punishing you too harshly but he thinks otherwise.

so he just tuts you as if he is scolding a child and your eyes swell up with more tears and you feel your bottom lip trembling in hurt.

“Daddy doesn’t want to hear an apology, daddy wants you to stay still so he’ll bring two more cummies out of you,”

hot tears fall as your throbbing pussy is fluttering with pain and pleasure, honey euphoria taking over you moan as your thighs shake and you release on his rubbing fingers. chest slightly heaving, you sniff as you feel your tears drying on your cheeks and watch Ari bring your creamy essence to his lips.

“princess look at the mess you made on daddy's hand. let daddy clean it up for you,”

after that rude phone call you were said to be meeting up with a friend of Ari's, well wouldn't want to say ‘friends’ more on the lines of acquaintances.

"I thought today was just us, he's your friend so why are dragging me into this." you mutter, yet when you feel his soft gaze on your eyes ease on your anger.

"be nice for daddy, okay princess?" he murmurs into your ear, snuggling into your neck. your chest lifts as you try to take in a deep breath and all the offensive rude snappy remarks on the tip of your tongue soften.

you hate the effect Ari has on you, your superior diva persona of sharp wit and pettiness strips away at his sweet and considering remarks. you’re his little spontaneous firecracker but when he cups your chin you turn into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. his feisty tiger cub that always calms down with his calming words and even soothing touch.

“fine,” you say and he smiles down at your stuff pout, it’s the best you’re going to give him and for that he pulls you closer to his side in gratitude.

walking side by side through the crowds, Ari adjusts the cap of the baseball hat down his forehead and you tuck in a piece of his hair behind his ear. making a rose heated blush appear on his cheeks which only brings out a wide smile and giggle from you.

“so, where is he? where are we meeting your ‘friend’?” your comment is sharp yet still soft enough to not avert the vex towards Ari.

“he said to meet us at the circus tent, before the clown stunts,”

“you thinking i’m going to meet him is a clown stunt-” you couldn’t help but let it slip out, you were still mad and you can’t help not to express it.

“princess what did we agree to-” Ari heavily sighs, a simple sign your running his patience but you roll your eyes.

“I know what we agreed to but I know nothing about your so called ‘friend’,”

how the hell did Ari expect you to be nice and peachy with a complete stranger when he warns you of them on a constant basis?

“we aren’t friends, we just have business to deal with,”

“yeah and what a professional scene to deal business then in a tent with lions, tigers and bears-” and suddenly a sharp slap hits your bottom and your to stunned to even register it.

oh my, oh my you’re in for a surprise and you sense it when the powder blue egg color of Aris mystic eyes shades darker. that again is a warning, for you to drop the attitude and suck up to this little silly social gathering but the pulling voices of your angry thoughts echoing fuck no are getting the best of you.

you always had your way, always and forever.

you two were surrounded by people and you even thought yourself no matter how pissed he was he wasn’t going to spank you. not pull you over his lap for children and parents to see but looking around you notice the sound of rides, people chattering, and laughing and playful screaming is to loud. everyone minding there own business to even notice his hand gliding up to wrap his fingers around your neck.

“don’t make me loose my patience. you are going to greet him politely, sit with him and-”

“god Ari do you want me to fuck him to?” you grumble and with that Ari grabs your jaw, directing your stare to his.

the grip on your wrist slightly tightened, his soft lips are to the shell of your ear and from afar it may seem like Ari is whispering something kind and dear from the way he’s smiling but you feel the snide in his harshly hushed words.

“is it that hard for you to be nice for my sake for ten decent minutes? I won’t fucking hesitate to pull you over my knee and spank you for the clowns and acrobats to see. I promise princess, if you even step a toe out of line you’re going to pray you haven’t. do you understand me?”

your glare is your only response until you mutter a small I understand daddy through your teeth barely loud for him to hear.

“speak up princess. I said, do you understand me?” Ari says, his words softer now and the grip on your jaw and wrist soften.

pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek he averts her face to meet him. “I promise you’re not going to regret meeting him. i’ve pulled a few strings to get him here but it’s all for you to enjoy,” he says and you quirk a brow at him, a smile finally pulling at your lips easing Ari.

“and who is that?” you say but Ari shakes his head with a small smirk, “I know you’ve been telling me how close you are to publishing your book and I thought why not I bring the finish line to you,” he says, you are still confused.

Ari was right, you are so close to making a publishing deal but you haven’t received any word in months. you yourself are getting anxious but the way you left the establishment shaking hands with the famous Harlan Thrombey himself. how he emphasized being invested in your work tore all those worries and fears away.

although, you were suppose to receive a call months ago, yet deadlines and interruptions of some sort keep on pushing your meeting with Harlan week after week. after that a contract was supposed to be sealed and editor negotiations completed and done for. not three months later you’ve received nothing and here you are wondering if Mr. Thrombey is having second thoughts on your work.

what is Ari planning for you with his friend?

⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄

sweat glistening your hairline, your soft whimpers fill the fairy light tent, only causing Ari to grip your inner thighs tighter. all this while his hot cherry tongue slides in and out your slick hole, you throw your head back. this pleasure feels like a fantasy and you’ve been reminiscing it to this point.

trying to move your glossy locks of hair away from your eyes, you hate the way he snapped at you earlier how you weren't allowed to touch him. not touch his soft toffee hair, his thickly bearded cheeks and muscled forearms- not even the comfort of his hand.

cause you’re in trouble and you aren’t allowed to touch him or yourself now or later until he says so. you’re the bad girl and the bad girl doesn’t get what she wants, no matter how much she pouts and cries.

"daddy!" and his eyes snap to yours, the pretty innocent blue now replaced by yearning.

knowing better to call his private title in public but the empty red, blue, and yellow striped carnival tent is the only event to do something like this. the soft music of the carousel in the background fuzzy, one of his hands creep up your bodice.

pulling down the tight neckline of your dress, he grips the soft mound tit in his hand and you erotically whimper as he roughly pinches the hard nipple. your pale pink and white gingham dress crowded your upper hips yet still lengthy enough that it covers Ari’s head. large warm palms caress your frosty cotton thigh highs as long slow licks smooth the folds of your fluttering pussy, aching to be satisfied by the pulse of his dick.

slow circular strokes of his thumb rub along the small slippery nub and your thighs twitch in blissful thrill over each of his shoulders. your feet in pink strap heels bounce and flinch every time Ari shoves his tongue in your hole. pouring out moans from you as you imagine his lips polished and shiny with your sweet pussy milk.

you want to see him, you want to see him eat you up you’re desperate to move the cloth over his head. see him licking and sucking the sinful treat he craves everyday. hating the sight of just his head bobbing up and down and side to side from the cover of your own dress you want to meet his eyes as he loudly moans while eating you out. slipping the small and loud growls and carnal noises release as he as his special treat.

daring to do so, you reach the hem of the dress and pull the fabric off his head, and there you see your handsome candyman. tawny brown hair tasseled and cheekbones red from the heat his eyes twinkle in mystic hunger, his lips soaked in your sensual essense. both his hands softly gripping your thighs, stroking your hips as his tongue still deep in your hole you let out a small whimper as he slips it out.

pupils wide and both the corners of his mouth leak with saliva and your cum and you feel your legs shaking a slight when he licks the corners. more so feel your pussy wetten when he glides his tongue over his top teeth glaring at you. awaiting the degrading scowl he has for you yet your surprised when you doesn’t pinch your thighs or claw at your hips even when he just smiles.

“peek-a-boo angel,” he purrs, eyes back to their cloud heaven blue and you feel your heart melting in your chest although it quickens when you brings his tongue right back to your pussy.

“so you must be {y/n l/n}, i’ve heard so much about you.” the young man sitting across from you chimes. You and Ari sit side by side on one of the many picnic tables around the humongous red and white circus tent.

“good things I hope, you must be Mr. Drysdale. how are you?” flashing your pearly white smile you rest your hand in the mans extended hand.

“what a doll, i’m doing great and how are you doing on this fine day?”

peachy fucking keen

he sounds like he’s trying his hardest to at least sound interactive and social. blue eyes move from your face to your cleavage and you want to snap at him to fucking pick.

“well today was excellent as a matter fact, a special day. all until you came along, you see Mr. Drysdale-”

“please, call me Ransom. Ari Levinson, long time no see! before we catch up why don’t you buy your lady a soda pop. i’d like to know the writers first before signing them off to my publish house,” the young man remarks, his eyes not to yours at all but to the way your dress tightly hugs your body.

Ari sees this, anger bubbling inside him he bits his tongue. meeting Ransom from his latest cases he was shocked to find out that he hadn’t been convicted for the third degree murder his buddy was investigating that had him wrapped up into it. even more shocked to find out that he had inherited his grandfathers publishing company.

this ‘meeting’ is to ensure you get your book published and live in your glory. so instead of barking at Ransom telling him to stop eye fucking you he instead offers you a kiss to the cheek and a soft stern whisper in your ear.

“behave while i’m gone,” and with that he walks away to the food vendors, knowing full well that it’s going to be you that’s going to drive Ransom crazy and not the other way around.

“I don’t understand, when I spoke to Ari-”

“well sweetheart today’s your lucky day, it’s not like everyday you meet the CEO of the company you dream your work be published in.” his voice smooth he stares down at you with hungry blue eyes.

cursing yourself for wearing such an unprofessional outfit but how were you going to find out that you were going to make a book deal on a date.

“I don’t understand, I was suppose to meet with Mr. Thrombey-”

“oh have you not received any word? Harlan, my grandfather, passed away three months ago,” he says but every word in his voice sounds fabricated, remorseless.

your surprised once you feel a hand on your bare thigh, gripping it firmly and you shift away from Ransom. his tongue slowly licks his bottom lip when his blue irises catch yours, you had to admit they were pretty like Ari’s but they held something else- something darker.

keeping a safe distance away from you and Ransom you don’t move your eyes away from him, not cowering under his gaze but holding a stronger glance to him. you knew guys like this, you grew up surrounded by them and you even dated guys like him but not in a single situation did you let them take advantage of you.

so, besides sitting at the table trying to avoid a conversation you get this “meeting” over with. Verbally deflecting the flirtatious remarks of Mr. Drysdale. dodging the charming maneuvers of him asking you for more face to face meetings and you can sense the anger radiating off him. it only makes you wonder how long it takes just for Ari to get you a damn soda pop.

“i’m not sure if you’re qualified enough for a place at my establishment. you don’t seem to meet my criteria options and your work isn’t up to our standards,” he says looking down at his phone, typing a message to someone as if you weren’t worth his time.

“I don’t seem to meet your criteria options? you mean offering to take me out when you damn well know i’m already in a relationship? what is this? I thought we were talking about my book,” that sharp remark leaves him dropping his eyes back to his phone after he receives a message.

“my question is why are you with a man like Levinson? a sweet little lady like you with a busy man like him can’t treat you well, can’t pamper you well, can’t fuck you well-”

“we’re done here,” you feel your face getting hot with rage, you were wasting your precious vacation days on this. “and what about your book Ms. {y/l/n}?”

you’re up and away front the table yet you turn your head to meet his eyes again. no way in hell were you going to publish your book for a company runned by Mr. Drysdale.

“it seems as though your establishment isn’t up to my standards Mr. Drysdale,”

"d-daddy, am I sweet?" fluttering your lashes to him, a deep groan shakes against your throbbing cunt and you feel your organism washing over.

the continuous licking from the tip of his tongue tracing your hole and his thick fingers rubbing your puffy folds are removed just for his mouth to suck the sweet essence pooling your rose bud.

his sweet and innocent angel, so naughty and dirty at these times. such a sweet fucking treat, a sickeningly saccharine poison to easily overdose. sporting soft cotton candy thighs he doesn’t mind at all being in between them, licking the sweet sugary sweetness.

y/n l/n is a wish candy girl that’ll rot Ari’s teeth to his graveyard kind of girl and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

"like candy dolly. you're sweet like fucking sugar." you moan at the comment and he won't stop licking. sugar cotton floss, sticky candy apples, rainbow swirled lollies, and buttery caramel popcorn- you’re the whole damn candy bar and his head is so deep in Candyland he can’t think straight.

all he wants is to see is your pie crumble before him as you give him the custard filling. it’s what he’s been craving and the various messages that Ransom sent him whilst in the food line asking him if he could “take you off his hands” only increases the grind of his mouth and tongue on your bountiful mound.

"daddy's on a sugar rush," you giggle completely unaware of the situation Ari has dealt with but otherwise he smiles into your pussy.

god you always had the cutest shit to say when he’s eating your pussy and he fucking loves it, eats it up.

"bad princess, you're going to rot daddy's teeth," trying his hardest to not think about Ransom at a time like this, in his position with his mouth on you.

"mmh!- that’s so sad daddy. I always liked your smile," you moan and sigh, testing his patience once more you begin to lace your fingers through his long hair.

Ari shakes his head disapproving though he seems to occupied licking your saturation from your mound to bother telling you to keep your hands to yourself. keeping your fingers in his hair, his eyes meet yours in anger and with the glimmer of menace he knows so well in your eyes he should prepare for your reckoning.

with that a pretty petty smirk curls your lips as you yank his chocolate locks downward, shoving your dripping cunt as it grinds against his mouth. Ari doesn’t back away but invites it, pulling away slightly to glide his skilled fingers over the soaked folds avoiding your desperate hole.

a whimper slips out when Ari doesn’t give you the pleasure that’s lingering and dripping from your crux but only avoides you; but then again how long can Ari avoid your need for another release. burly arms wrap around your body’s waist as you pulls you onto his lap, letting you saunter your arms around his neck you stuff your face in his chest letting out a whinish sob.

“i’m sorry for misbehaving today Ari,” a bang of regret hits Ari’s chest.

this was all his fault for demanding you meet Ransom to see some opportunities for you when he himself knew it wasn’t the best idea.

“don’t be sorry angel, I went too far and you were right. I shouldn’t have forced you to meet him. shouldn’t have thought of this in the first place,” that little whisper followed with a kiss in between your brows.

he still can’t get the sleazy voice of Ransom offering to take you “off his hands” so you’d get a position at his company. feeling his sugar high blood boiling just remembering Ransom talking about you as if you were nothing but a pawn item for bargaining, right in front of you as if you had no say whatsoever.

“you know how I hate cutting corners, I wanna be successful because I worked hard. not because my boyfriend wanted me to take it easy and let a rich boy take care of it for me,” you whisper, head snuggling in Ari’s neck which he hums.

god, you may be stubborn but you were so loyal to your aspirations and independence. strong when he met you and stronger now, he always has admired that.

“remind me next time whenever I want to introduce you to someone who runs this relationship,” and you giggle at those words.

quickly straddling his lap arms wrapped around his neck you pull him closer till your nose rubs against his and your lips briefly touch his.

“I run this shit,” you cheekily whisper subtly licking his bottom lip and Ari takes your ass in his hands, lifting you up your legs wrap around his waist. “yes, you fucking do.” Ari growls and pulls your lips to his.

he’s all yours, your caring daddy, your carnival carnivore.

truly yours.

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

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skrltwtch · 3 years

Text

Silverware

Prompt: on a first date and A is a werewolf and doesn’t know the cutlery is silver (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,897 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I buried my nose in the bouquet of lilies and roses Jake had bought for me. It was the perfect emblem of summer with its warm, sunny hues and fresh, tangy scent — and the perfect segue to the next part of our date. The first part was a visit to the local farmers market, out of which we were now walking. Coming here had been his suggestion. It was something different from the usual first date stuff like coffee or a movie, and I liked it a lot, notwithstanding my initial reservations. I liked him a lot after what I’d seen of him at the market. I felt like the place helped bring out a certain spark between us. For one, there was constant talk about planning for date number two using what we’d seen and bought. If that wasn’t promising, I didn’t know what was!

‘Thank you, Jake. I love it,’ I said about the bouquet.

‘You’re most welcome,’ he said, a broad grin brightening up his face. ‘And thank you for the flavoured olive oil. Makes me kind of wish we didn’t have this dinner reservation …’ His grin turned sheepish in nature. ‘But that’s what’s making me look forward to our next date.’

See?

‘Do you want to call for a taxi or walk?’ he said.

‘What time’s our reservation?’

‘6:00 p.m. on the dot.’

My watch came alive with a flick of my wrist. ‘Let’s walk, then. I want to walk off all the cheese I sampled.’ I’d sampled a lot. In my defence, it was almost that time of the month — and that other time of the month. ‘Do you know the way?’

‘Google Maps can teach me.’

The route Google Maps recommended was scenic. London Bridge looked lovely at this time of day. Its appeal was heightened tenfold with Jake by my side. Could you believe we met on Tinder? It still felt unreal to me. Getting this match used up all my good luck for the year, and we were only at the halfway point. Well, if it meant burning the roof of my mouth most of the time I ate to be able to quit the dating scene for a reasonable amount of time (“once and for all” seemed a little ambitious, though that would be nice), who was I to whinge about the hand fate had dealt me?

The restaurant was located within the Four Seasons. We had been overdressed for the market. Now we were … dressed. I was flattered as fuck that he picked such a lavish place for dinner for a first date. I hadn’t the faintest clue what it was about my profile and our conversations that made him think of a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel. I did try to talk him out of it (gently). It wasn’t about the cost. Food was one of the things I was more than happy to splurge on. It was just … I never had anyone think this highly of me before, and I wondered if that’d change if … and when … he knew the truth about me.

The host led us into the main dining room and to our table. An amuse-bouche and warm bread came together with the menus. The prices were as expected of the type of establishment this was. Everything sounded good, though this was my first time coming across some of these words. Looking up what each one meant would add to the time something would take to reach our table, and my stomach would sooner eat itself out of desperation.

‘Please don’t hold back,’ said Jake, sensing my indecision. ‘The price is not an issue.’

I did have to hold back. The coincidental timing of this month’s full moon and crimson tide amplified every-fucking-thing I could possibly feel to a divinely hellish degree in the days leading up to them. As it was, I could easily polish off a five-course meal by myself. If Jake wanted this date to go in a less chaste direction after dinner, hell would freeze over before I’d even dream of talking him out of it, first date etiquette be damned. Was the fact that he was such a goddamn catch helping anything? Absolutely fucking not.

‘No, it’s not that. I can’t — I can’t decide what I want,’ I said. It was technically true. I was torn between the beef (never mind that it was £98) and veal … and both of them at once. ‘What are you having? Maybe I can get some inspiration from you.’

‘I was thinking the turbot … or the pigeon. Yeah, I can’t make up my mind either. I’m leaning toward the pigeon …? No, the turbot. Or the scallops …? Fuck. I need an adult.’

‘Let’s choose for each other.’

‘Promise not to hate each other’s choices — or each other?’

‘Pinky promise.’

We locked our pinkies together. I hoped touching him would never grow old.

Once our promise had been sanctified and we separated from each other, Jake signalled for the nearest available waitstaff. One came over almost instantly. The restaurant was bustling with activity, a far cry from however long it had been since we arrived. She took our order in a cordial fashion, not making a bigger deal of how we were ordering for each other than it should be. I chose the scallops for him; he chose the veal for me. I convinced him to start our evening with the langoustine; he sweet-talked me into ending it with the rhubarb. The waitstaff validated all our choices with a knowing smile.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask — and I hope I’m not stepping on your toes here,’ Jake started when our table was just the two of us again. ‘How did you get that scar on your arm?’

It was a matter of time. And bless him. I would never be offended by being asked about the memento of what’d changed my life forever. I would be offended by an adverse reaction to how exactly my life had been changed forever. I raised my arm, giving the scar in question its time in the limelight: brownish-pink, leathery circles arranged in the shape of a crescent, the ones at both ends abnormally large and ragged-looking.

‘My ex-boyfriend’s dog bit me,’ I said. More like my ex-boyfriend was the offending canine. ‘That’s not why he’s an ex, in case you were wondering.’ I’d wanted to be turned. He’d been more than happy to lend a helping set of fangs. Sadly, the idea of us being cute werewolves together was yet another one of those things that simply sounded nicer on paper. It wasn’t all sour between us. We’d sometimes meet for romps. It got lonely sometimes, and it wasn’t like there was an online forum for werewolves to socialise or whatever. I doubted he’d have known of one anyway: he was literally an American werewolf in London.

‘Did it hurt? It’s such a huge scar. Did anything happen to the dog afterward?’ He held up his hands. ‘Am I being nosy? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’

I smiled in the hope that it’d soothe his worries. ‘You’re not being nosy. It was … okay for what it was.’ Euphoric. ‘The dog’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to punish it for an instinct thing.’ Yup.

‘That’s good to hear. I think it’s a bad-ass scar. And I didn’t think it’s why he’s an ex.’

‘Thank you. Most people did. Yeesh. Give me some credit.’

‘I’m not most people … I hope.’ He smirked. The apples of his cheeks turned pink.

He really wasn’t. And I wanted so badly to tell him the truth there and then to see if that’d still hold true in the face of a bombshell like that. I had yet to tell anyone about my lycanthropy: if movies, television shows, books, etc., were anything to go by, I’d assume most people would react with fear or disgust, or both. Chris had been thoroughly flabbergasted when I reacted the way I did to learning why he always turned down my suggestions to go stargazing on nights with full moons. I got what I wanted … eventually.

Maybe I should tell Jake sooner than later. Separate the wheat from the chaff. Then I wouldn’t have wasted my time having pined for someone who thought I was some kind of freak of nature.

That conversation — or rather, thinking about that conversation would have to wait, as our starter, bearing a strong resemblance to a flower arrangement with colours befitting the season, had arrived. Food was always the perfect diversion. So would the inevitable back-and-forth about who could have the third and last langoustine. Splitting it was not an option, for one piece was as big as my thumb. I loved the portion sizes of frou-frou fancy food. So much bang for one’s buck.

‘Bon appétit,’ said Jake. ‘That’s one of … four French phrases I know. The other three are “bonjour”, “omelette du fromage”, and — I can’t say the last one in a public place.’

‘Is it by any chance … “voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir”?’ I made no effort whatsoever to lower my volume — or maintain a straight face. Brazenness blazed through my cheeks.

He put a hand on his chest, feigning surprise. ‘Well!’ He tittered. ‘Since you asked ever so nicely, and in French … This is why your choices tonight have been shellfish, isn’t it?’

‘You got me.’

‘Looking at their portion sizes, I don’t think your plan’s going to work very well. Not that I’d need the help of — shut up, Jake.’

‘Keep going, Jake’ was what I’d have said and wanted if my stomach hadn’t started getting on my case for letting good food get cold. (‘Rubbery lobster? Gross!’) There was something hot about someone like Jake — a posh, proper Englishman, the polar opposite of Chris … okay, no, stop bringing him up, stop thinking about him, goddammit — talking openly, confidently, about his prowess. Such words … coming out of his mouth … in that accent … I quickly pressed my legs together to quell any desires. Which hunger of mine was responsible for this?

Wanting to satiate the one appetite I could at this very moment without earning myself prison time for my troubles, I said, ‘Bon appétit, Jake’, and picked up my fork … which promptly fell onto my plate with the fucking loudest clang. The smell of burning flesh tickled my nostrils — my burning flesh. My fingers were sizzling where the fork touched them. Sizzling! I prayed it was only my nose that could pick up this delectable aroma.

I stared at the cutlery. Trust a high-end French restaurant helmed by a Michelin-starred chef in a five-star hotel to use real silverware, not that cheap silver-plated shit. I prodded the fork handle — and withdrew my finger immediately. Not one of my finer moments. Please don’t tell me Jake saw it.

‘Is everything okay?’ said Jake.

Ah, fuck.

‘Yeah,’ I said, examining my palm. Good news: the burn hadn’t healed and wasn’t healing as quickly as my wounds and injuries (not that I had many of them) did after I was turned, so that was one less question to dodge. I didn’t want to keep lying to Jake. I didn’t like that I had been. How would I explain the absence of a second-degree burn that existed mere seconds ago anyway? Bad news: was this never going to heal because of what caused it? I had been so careful with silver since I was turned. How would I explain a perpetual second-degree burn? Would it out me as a werewolf to people who knew what to look for? Was now really the time for Twenty Questions?

Noticing Jake had been waiting on me to provide some kind of elucidation on my well-being, I said, ‘I guess I have a silver allergy. Can you believe it? Who’s allergic to silver?’

He didn’t need to say, ‘What kind of allergy burns someone?’ for me to hear it in my head.

‘Can you eat, then?’ he said.

I shook my head. As far as I was concerned, silver was lethal. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. If a perpetual second-degree burn was the worst thing to come out of fleeting contact with the metal, so be it. I’d consider myself a lucky lycan indeed.

‘Pardon me,’ Jake said to the waitstaff who’d come with our entrées, ‘would you have any disposable cutlery perhaps? My lady’ — he did not — ‘is allergic to the silverware.’

The waitstaff did an excellent job of not acting like this very dashing gentleman had just dropped the barmiest string of words on her during her entire employment in this line of work. Even I didn’t quite believe it myself. ‘I’ll see what we have, sir, ma’am,’ she said, cool as a cucumber. After she finished setting down our food, she collected all the silverware on my side of the table and left.

‘I don’t think whatever she comes back with would help with your veal. I could cut it up for you?’ said Jake.

Oh, my God. Getting burnt by silver must be the universe’s way of course-correcting the unusual jackpot I’d hit with him. Good Tinder matches were a myth!

‘No, it’s fine. Thank you. I’ll manage … somehow,’ I said. The wooden cutlery the waitstaff had returned with didn’t inspire confidence in me to not fling a piece of meat or a utensil at someone while cutting into my food.

‘We could swap dishes. I’d be fine with the veal. It was in my top five earlier.’

I suffocated a sigh. His scallops looked more like an appetiser than a main. But what choice did I have? I could either eat the veal like the animal that put me in this position or go through the restaurant’s entire supply of wooden cutlery with nothing to show for the effort in my belly and possibly injure someone in the process. Neither option would do any favours for my image in the eyes of the guy I liked and whose bones I’d like to jump at some point, enhanced animal lust or not.

So, I agreed. I tried to draw out the meal for as long as I could. Between the teeny serving and the unwieldiness of the wooden cutlery, I was having a miserable time. Dinner had become a silent affair, a far cry from everything prior to this point. Contrary to the vibe I was putting out, the food had nothing to do with my dour mood. For the first time since I was turned, I wasn’t happy about what I was. Could I never truly lead a normal life? Did I have to lie to every potential suitor and fret about whether they’d accept that other side of me on top of all the intricacies of dating?

There ought to be a dating app for verified supernatural creatures.

‘How’s the veal?’ I said. I had to speak up: I wasn’t being fair to Jake by acting like a sullen teenager over something he had zero control over, and the silence was deafening.

‘It’s — I might’ve done you a favour. How about my — your scallops?’

‘As good as three bites can get. I can’t tell if it tastes funny because of the wooden fork.’

‘This has been a disaster, hasn’t it?’ He flashed a wry smile. ‘Can I be honest? I have no idea what possessed me to pick a place like this for a first date.’

‘It’s a nice place. And it hasn’t been a disaster.’ If anything, I was the disaster. As always.

‘How was the market?’

‘The market was great. I had an amazing time.’

‘Thank God. I’ll take one out of two.’

I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of his. He made things extra saucy by interlocking his fingers with mine. ‘Jake, it’s fine. Today has been wonderful. I should be sorry for making things awkward with my … allergy.’ Nope, that still sounded silly.

‘What? No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.’

It … kind of was.

‘How about ice cream after this? My treat. I’m certain the rhubarb will be so very pretty and so very … nothing.’

He hit the nail on the head. The food we had would do wonders for my Instagram feed while having done nothing for my diet. I appreciated his offer, though I was afraid it would take more than ice cream to fill me up properly … Then again, that was a problem that rested solely in my dominion, not his, and it was one I intended to solve by trawling the likes of Deliveroo and Uber Eats in the comfort of my underthings at home — the one true way to enjoy food.

I asked for the bill the second dessert arrived. I wanted to leave here as soon as possible. I had quite enough of the wooden cutlery. I felt like a child using them. And like I told Jake earlier, I was on the fence about whether to attribute the food’s slightly off taste to them or my unrefined taste buds. Even the rhubarb wasn’t spared. Dessert was supposed to be my safe space, dammit!

I footed the bill in its entirety despite his objections. It helped that the waitstaff presented it to me because I’d been the one who asked, and that I was quick with my card. Sisters watching out for each other, everyone. The plan was then to go about the rest of the evening as if it had slipped my mind to ask him for his half or even bring it up in the first place. It was the least I could do for putting a wee damper on dinner with my … me-ness. He was going to treat me to ice cream anyway. There. We were even now.

The best-laid plans of mice and men often went awry: Jake snatched the bill folder and, taking out his phone, said, ‘Do you have Paym, Pingit, or PayPal? Why am I only noticing now that they all start with P?’

I admitted defeat: ‘Paym.’ It might be harder for him — or anyone — to believe I had none of those apps than that I was a werewolf. Did I want to put that to the test? No.

My phone buzzed with the confirmation that my plan had been a dud. ‘Thank you. Now let’s blow this popsicle stand and head to a real one.’

We left and worked on our next destination outside the restaurant. The staff had to want us out of there as much as we wanted ourselves out of there. The time of day meant we had limited options: ice cream parlours in London seemed to think people would lose the mood for sweet treats the moment the sky turned dark and the air cooled. Inanity. We had to return to where our date started for the one place that was open at this hour. It was just as well: I needed the walk this time to clear my head after what happened at dinner. It hadn’t seemed to dull the shine of his opinion of me, at least. He was as chipper as ever. Unless he was a good actor and paid up as soon as he did so he could ghost me after this and find himself a date that didn’t have some bogus allergy to silver …

Me? Over-thinking things? Never.

‘Do you want to do takeout or eat in?’ I said when we found ourselves less than fifty metres away from the parlour tasked with plying us with ice cream for tonight without a say in the matter.

‘Let’s do takeout and walk back to Borough Station. Full circle.’

The place was crowded: the most logical outcome for the only ice cream parlour open at this time near a tourist hotspot in the middle of summer. Customer turnover was quick, however, and we left with our orders within fifteen minutes. As tempting as their sundaes and waffles — towering, decadent creations of sugary indulgence — looked, we went back to the basics after our overly sophisticated dinner. Unlike before, what we wanted came to us in a snap: for myself, a speculoos gelato; for Jake, a gelato, too, but make it salted caramel.

And this time, we could help ourselves to each other’s food. With permission, of course.

‘A fraction of the price, but infinitely better,’ I said.

‘I hope the same can be said of our second date.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Dinner at Chez Walker. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’

‘I do think so.’

‘It would have to be the weekend after next, though.’

‘Why? Got another date next Saturday?’ I had a firm enough grip on reality to recognise and accept that a guy like him had to be neck deep in matches.

‘No … next weekend’s the full moon. I thought you’d know.’

I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘Why would I?’ I buried my stammer under a bemused scoff. Like, why would anyone — any not-werewolf, which, as far as Jake was concerned, was what I was — care to know when the full moon was?

He, too, stopped walking and looked me dead in the eye. ‘Imogen, I know what you are.’

I wiped my palms on the front of my dress. They were suddenly so sweaty. So sweaty. Why were they so sweaty? Could he see that they were so sweaty? I tried to defuse the situation the best — and maybe only — way I knew how: ‘Are we quoting Twilight? I’ll have you know that I liked the book when I first read it in 2007. And I thought the movie wasn’t too bad either.’ This was true, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. Any female millennial who said they had felt nothing for Edward Cullen was a filthy liar.

‘I’m not ashamed either to say I read the book and watched the movie. But I’m serious.’

‘Okay … say it, then. Go on.’ Was that how the line went? I wasn’t going to look it up now. On a list of things that mattered in this moment, accurate movie quotes was nowhere near the top twenty.

‘You’re a werewolf. And I know how this sounds, so don’t humour me or —’ His tone had taken on a jittery lilt, uncharacteristic of someone who ought to be humoured, ridiculed (what his next word had to be), or — my worst-case scenario — feared.

‘How did you know?’

His mien changed in a manner that suggested that wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. Fuck it. Chris had trusted me enough to tell me the truth after a handful of dates, and he did it because he liked me a lot and he wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible so that we could move on in some way. (Me asking him to turn me was the real curveball of that conversation.) The least I could do, really, was to extend that same courtesy to Jake. I liked him. I liked him a lot. If he had a problem with what I was, it was better that I found out now that he did than many months down the road. There was no element of compromise to my … condition.

‘You mean I’m —?’

‘Right? Not crazy?’ I showed him my palm. The burn had taken about an hour to reach the healing stage normal people would reach in a week or so. ‘Yeah.’

‘Damn …’ He cleared his throat. ‘How did I know? I was brought up on a steady diet of horror movies and read way too many young adult supernatural books in the day, more than I’d care to admit. That, and my ex-girlfriend’s second uncle was killed by a werewolf.’

‘Shit.’

‘I’m kidding — about the last part. The first two are true. My ex-girlfriend was a vampire, and one of her uncles — I can’t remember which one; it could’ve really been her second — was with a werewolf when we were together. Vampires and werewolves get along quite well, actually.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘How the tables have turned … I’m not.’ He went through his phone with his free hand and, upon finding what he’d been looking for, passed it to me. ‘Look.’

On the screen was a photo of him with his arm around a hazy figure in clothes that were otherwise in focus.

‘Drove me quite mad at first, thinking something was wrong with my phone. Then she went a little … overboard once, and the rest was history. She shared everything about her world — your world — with me. And I’m also in several online paranormal communities, so there’s that. It’s not all as hush-hush as one might think. It just takes an open mind.’

I returned his phone to him. ‘How did you figure me out?’

‘Your “allergy”. I had my suspicions about your scar. Your reaction to the silverware confirmed them. Allergies … don’t do this.’ He took my hand and stroked my palm. The sensation of his fingers on the raw skin was … electric. ‘I’m sorry I put you in an awkward position and you weren’t ready to tell me. What I said … just slipped out. I understand. It has to be fucking terrifying. It’s okay if you don’t want to see me again after this. But I want you to know that what you are doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you. How you were turned is none of my business. The whole thing is, really. I did an arse thing. I’m an arse. First with the goddamn restaurant, now this. Way to fucking go, Walker,’ he said to himself quietly.

I flung my empty gelato container into the nearest bin, and then my arms around him. I helped throw away his for him, too. ‘You’re not an arse, Jake. This doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you, too. I like you a lot.’ His cheeks flushed deeply under the moonlight. ‘I was freaking out about this whole thing during dinner because I like you a lot. I am so relieved that we’ve gotten to lay our cards on the table.’ I fanned myself with my hand. Don’t cry, Imogen! ‘And because I don’t want there to be any more lies between us, it was my ex-boyfriend who turned me, and he did it because I wanted it.’

‘Oh. Yeah, it still doesn’t change a thing.’ His lips landed on my forehead in a peck. ‘Okay, I never imagined the topic of our exes would come up so often during our first date. Oh, well. Guess they had more of an impact on us than we’d like to think.’

‘Yeah’ — I chuckled, ‘let’s keep walking.’

I peeled myself off him. Our hands remained intertwined. Like dinner, the remaining walk — as short as it was — to the station was a quiet one. Unlike dinner, it was more so that we were simply basking, revelling, in the afterglow of our attraction to each other and each other’s presence. The world felt right again, just as it did at the farmers market.

The next time we spoke was on the train platform. ‘Thank you for the lovely time,’ I said, ‘and for being such a sweetheart.’ I waved my bouquet at him. It still looked pristine despite all the walking we did. ‘For everything.’

‘Thank you, too. I had an amazing time with you today. I can assure you that Chez Walker will serve larger portions than what we had earlier.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘The weekend after next, then?’

‘Yes,’ I said, grinning. ‘I’d be down for any time before the weekend, too, if Chez Walker is open then.’

‘I’ll speak with the chef.’

He moved in for a goodbye kiss, which I seized wholeheartedly. His smell and the sound of his heartbeat flooded my senses. I could feel his heart beating against his chest under my touch, thumping, thumping away for every second our lips lingered on each other’s. I had to contain myself and keep things G-rated and light, as such kisses were wont to be, though my instincts were screaming, baying, at me to get to satisfying at least one craving tonight. I was the one to break off the kiss for fear of going too far.

‘Just in time,’ said Jake, his eyes doing that thing they did whenever he smiled. ‘My train’s here. I’ll see you next week?’

‘I thought you said you’ll speak with the chef about next week.’

‘I realised I don’t care what the chef thinks. He’ll be fine with it anyhow: he doesn’t have to bust out the good silverware.’

‘Goodbye, Jake.’

‘See you, Imogen. Message me when you get home?’

‘I will.’

We waved at each other, right before the train doors swallowed him up. My train came soon after, too. I spent the entire ride home wondering not what to fill the void that was my stomach with, but what fresh hell the universe had in store for me in return for scoring me a guy like Jake.

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Riding High

Ch6: The Mother Ship

Chapter Summary: Mary gets into another spot of trouble and Frank’s mother pays them an unexpected visit.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Contains SPOILERS for the film!!!!! If you haven’t seen it please be aware of that before you read on. As a Lawyer I know how long the types of cases depicted in GIFTED can take, however they can also be done pretty fast. With that in mind, and because it fits with how I want the story to go I’m spreading it over approximately 6 weeks or so, so just roll with me!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 5

“So she hit him?” Fliss looked at Frank.

Frank took a deep breath. “In the face with a book.” Fliss frowned “That doesn’t sound like Mary.”

“She hit him hard too. Broke his nose. I saw the kid leaving as I was going into the school, blood all over his shirt…” Frank scoffed. “But, you know the really bad thing about it? I’m actually kind of proud of her. I mean this kid was twelve and he was picking on another kid Mary’s age and…”

“That’s not a bad thing, that you’re proud!” Fliss said, shoving the last of her sandwich in her mouth.

“Well, that’s it then.” Fliss shrugged. “Job done. She did something wrong, albeit for the right reasons and you dealt out the chastisement.”

“And punishment. I told her she had to apologise in front of the class.”

Fliss leaned back in her chair and studied him for a moment “What’s really bugging you Sailor?”

“Am I that easy to read?”

Fliss shrugged “Sorta.”

Frank scratched at the skin around his collar “They raised the issue of her being gifted again, told me she would be better off in a special school.”

“Ah.” Fliss made a noise “And I’m assuming you told them to politely fuck off?”

“In a fashion” he snorted “I was honest, said the last thing that she needs is reinforcement that she's different. She already knows that.”

“Well if you keep saying it they’ll get the message. They can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, Frank.” Until the authorities get involved… Frank shrugged the thought from his mind and looked up as Joanne walked into the office.

“Your 1pm is here.” she smiled “Hey Frank.” He nodded to her as Fliss stood up, shooting him an apologetic look “Sorry to kick you out.”

“I need to get back anyway.” he shrugged “Look, do you wanna come over later? I kinda told Mary if she apologised properly and didn’t misbehave we’d get pizza. She told me to ask you so…”

“Sure.” Fliss nodded, smiling softly. “Sounds good. I finish here at…” she checked her diary “5ish so I’ll come straight over.

Frank nodded and with a last smile he left her to it.

The rest of the day went smoothly. There were no calls from the school, he managed to fix the fuel line on the boat he was working on which meant he was done ahead of schedule, meaning his payment would be ahead of schedule too which suited him fine, he could pay Roberta early for a change. He’d promised to pick Mary up from School, instead of her getting the bus, so he did just that and Bonnie came out to tell him that she had, in fact, apologised and gone one further by telling the class that the kid who’s project had been destroyed deserved the class prize.

“I’m proud of you.” Frank looked at her as they drove home.

“What for?” Mary looked at him.

“For being big enough to own up to being wrong.”

Mary looked at him.

“And because you did what you said you were gonna, Fliss is coming over for pizza.”

“Yessss!” Mary let out a whoop, and threw her hands up in a cheer.

Frank chuckled and shook his head. The woman had certainly made an impact in Mary’s life, that was for sure. And his, if he was being honest.

He pulled up outside the apartment and knocked the car out of gear before he reached down for the handbrake.

“There's a lady standing in front of our door.” Mary said.

“Who is it?” he asked, cracking the handbrake up.

“How should I know? I'm seven.” she scoffed back.

Good point. He turned to look and did a double take as he looked at the familiar woman stood on his doorstep, dressed in a pale brown dress, sunglasses and handbag slung over her shoulder. Frank cut the ignition, one arm resting on the steering wheel as he glanced at her.

“That would be your grandmother.” he stated simply as Mary continued to look out of the window

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed.

He was too shocked himself to chastise her for her language, that and he kind of agreed. Holy shit indeed.

“Come on.” He said, getting out of the truck. Mary hopped out of her side and walked with him up to the door.

“Mother.” He greeted.

She looked at him with a tight smile. “Frank.”

“Mary say hello.” He said, his hand falling to the back of her head.

“Hello.” Mary greeted his mother politely.

Frank headed up the steps and his mother moved out of the way as he unlocked the door. She reached for the large bag by her feet, which Frank could see was loaded with gifts and he rolled his eyes. He gave her a look and she simply smiled as he picked up the bag and carried it in. That was typical of her, thinking she could throw money at something and make it all ok.

Frank wasn’t stupid. He knew full well that damned principal would have caused this, and his mother was here for one thing only, to see if Mary was as smart as they all said. And he didn’t like it. One bit. Still, she was his mother so he behaved as politely as he could and offered her a drink, which she declined. Then, not wanting to cause a scene, he sat down and simply let her talk to Mary as she handed out gift after gift, whilst she sniffled into a tissue.

Nice one, Fred!

“An Apple?” Mary gasped as she unwrapped the sleek, white box from it’s pink and gold polka dotted paper. “Woah.”

“It's a MacBook, Darling.” his mother spoke. “Top of the line with the Retina display.”

“Hey, you know who else has a Retina display?” Frank looked at her, arching an eyebrow.

“Fred!” she grinned. Frank looked over and saw the cat who was lounging on Mary’s bed swish his tail.

“Mary, I understand you like mathematics.” His mother spoke and Frank took a deep breath, glancing to his side where she was stood “So, on there you will found a great out of print book by Charles Zimmer...”

Oh here we go. Frank thought to himself as he sat back, running his hand over his stubble.

“…called Transitions in Advanced Algebra.”

“Yeah. Love that book.” Mary turned the laptop over in her hands.

“You're saying you've read it?” his mother spoke and Frank didn’t miss the tone of surprise, yet excitement in her voice.

“Yeah, I've kinda moved on to differential equations now.” Mary shrugged.

“Hey, don't forget your manners.” Frank spoke from where he was sat on the chair, elbow resting on the table, hand supporting his temple “Thank you, Grandma.”

“Thank you, Grandma.”

“Grandmother or Evelyn will do just fine.”

God, she never changed. Frank inhaled and looked away, his hand falling softly to the table in a fist.

“There's so much more on there. Things I know you'll find really challenging.” she moved towards Mary and Frank stood up.

“Yes, but sadly it's a school night and there's homework to do.”

“I thought you said Fliss was coming over?” “She is, so you need to get that homework done. But…” he gestured to his mother. “What a surprise though, right? Say good night to Grandmother or Evelyn.”

“Goodnight.”

“So who’s Fliss?” His mother asked as Frank ushered her out of the house “Don’t tell me you finally sorted your life out and got a girlfriend?” “Mary’s riding instructor, and no, she’s a friend.”

“Mary goes horse riding?”

“Yeah.”

Evelyn nodded, before she sneezed into her tissue. “I'd kill a priest for a Benadryl.” she said as they strode towards the black Mercedes she was clearly hiring.

“Still with the allergies?” Frank looked at her.

“Why in God’s name have you got a cat? You don't even like cats.”

“It’s not my cat, it's Mary's cat. I'm just along for the ride.” he shrugged. “So let me guess, our lovely principal, Miss Davis…”

“Never get on the bad side of small minded people who have a little authority. I thought I taught you that.” His mother turned to face him as she reached the side of her car. Frank took a deep breath and looked up just as Fliss’ white jeep Cherokee turned onto the road. She gave a wave and he tossed a hand back and turned to his mother.

“What are you doin' here?” he asked her bluntly.

“You don't think I have a right to see my granddaughter?”

“I do. I'm thrilled your seven year exhaustive search has finally come to a fruitful conclusion.” He retorted sarcastically.

Even before she got out of the car, Fliss could tell the exchange between Frank and whoever the woman was looked tense. Frank’s face was stony and his eyes were hard in a way she’d never seen before. She hesitated for a moment, then deciding it was far ruder to sit in her car and watch, she jumped out.

“I don't think this is appropriate time to talk.” She caught the woman’s British accent and her head snapped towards her. Was this his mother?

“It’s certainly not the setting.” The woman continued as Frank rolled his eyes and leaned back against the car bonnet. “When I was waiting a cockroach this big tried to steal my shoe.” She finished, holding her thumb and forefingers as wide apart as they would go. Fliss shook her head, and shut her car door loudly and turned to look at Frank.

“Yeah. They'll take a shoe.” he nodded.

Fliss smirked to herself at Frank’s response and he caught her eye as she was passing.

“Mary’s inside. I’ll be with you in a sec.” he nodded to her, but as she turned to go the woman spoke to her. “You must be Fliss.” the woman looked her up and down, causing Fliss to glance down at her legs. She was still in her riding gear only had traded her boots for a pair of sneakers, her long checked socks still pulled up to her knees, not that she should give a shit what this woman thought but she suddenly felt a little self-conscious.

“Yeah.” Fliss said, holding out her hand politely.

“Fliss, this is my mother.” Frank informed, confirming Fliss’ suspicions “She was just leaving.” He turned to look at her. His mother held his gaze and then glanced around

“Honestly, this? This God forsaken mosquito ranch was a conscious choice?”

Fliss felt a rush of anger and before she could stop herself she jumped to Frank’s defence.

“I wouldn’t worry, I find Mosquitos are pretty particular about who they bite. I hear they’re not fond of things that taste bitter.”

Frank’s mother turned to face her. Fliss could feel the nerve in her jaw twitching at the out and out bitchiness of the woman in front of her and she could sense Frank watching her. Nevertheless, she didn’t move her gaze from the woman. Frank’s mother cocked her head, almost like she was assessing her for a moment before Frank spoke up deciding to break up the battle for alpha female that was going on.

“I could drop you back off at the airport.” He looked at his mother. She shot him a look and climbed into her car, shutting the door. He walked a few paces till he was besides Fliss before he turned and looked at her as she reversed the car.

“That’s your mum?” Fliss asked as the car drove off up the road

“Yep.” Frank said, his eyes on the tailgate as it rounded the corner.

“No offence but she seems like a total bitch.”

“Not total.” Frank sniffed. “More like 90%”

Fliss laughed and snaked an arm round his waist “Come on Sailor, I’m starving.”

Tossing his left arm round her shoulder they made their way into the house. Frank stepped aside to let Fliss in first and she headed into the living area to see Mary on the couch, cross legged with a Mac Book open

“This thing is loaded with cool problems.” Marry muttered.

“Only problem I’m interested in is picking what to have on my pizza!” Fliss spoke. Mary’s head jerked up and she grinned.

“Lissy!” She dropped the laptop to the sofa besides her and jumped up. Fliss bent down to give her a hug before she started to chatter incessantly about the laptop. Whilst Mary was talking, Fliss spotted Frank as he leaned against the doorframe, his face stony.

“Hey.” she nudged him and he turned to face her, giving her a tight smile. “Push it out.” she gently reached up and tapped her finger against his temple “Order dinner and then when Mary’s asleep we’ll talk, that is if you want.”

He gave her a smile, this time genuine and nodded.

Two hours and a couple of large pizzas later Mary was in bed and Frank and Fliss were sat on the steps outside the kitchen, drinking beer.

“So the teacher calls her, and she turns up?” Fliss shook her head “Because you pissed her off?” “The Principal.” Frank corrected her, “But yeah, pretty much.” Fliss let out a sigh.

“The thing is, Evelyn won’t give up. Not now Mary’s confirmed her suspicions.” he drained his beer.

“What you think she’s gonna do?” “I dunno.” Frank bit his lip. “But one things for certain, there’s gonna be nothing good that comes from her showing up.” He looked out over the lawn, the various lamps illuminating the grounds and the street. He felt Fliss slip her arm round him and she leaned against him.

“Well, you won’t be on your own. You got me and Roberta in your corner, along with your, what was it you called them?” "Circle of Truth” he said, laughing at the fact she’d remembered the nickname he and his friends had for their group.

“Am I in that circle yet?”

“Dur.” he nudged her gently before he rest his head against her. “But, if you’re along for the ride, Cowgirl you better buckle up, coz it’s gonna be bumpy.” “Well,” she gave a small huff of laugh, “in my experience all the best road trips are.” *****

Turns out the appropriate time and place his mother was referring too was the next lunch time at a little bar overlooking the beach. He nodded to his mother as he took his seat.

“So, are you teaching?” she asked him as he took a sip from a glass of water.

“I repair boats.” Frank replied.

“Please.” She rolled her eyes.

“I'm not bad at it either.”

“Well, then, that explains this.” She said, gesturing to his face “They don't sell sunscreen here?”

“I wear sunscreen.” He replied, in the same tone he would use on Mary when she was making a pointless statement.

“Not enough. And you need a hat. A big hat that shades your face and neck. You're playing Russian roulette with your skin. You look like porn producer.”

“Okay.” Frank shook his head, suppressing a smile “I appreciate the advice. I do. But we're not here to talk about sunscreen, are we?”

“So no more small talk? That's a shame.” Evelyn took a deep breath “Okay, the environment you have created for that child, where she lives, the school she attends. It's substandard. Every bit of it.”

“I disagree.” Frank said calmly

“We're going nowhere if we're not being honest with each other.” Evelyn shook her head.

“I am being honest.”

“I see. Fine. Well, I'm not leaving without her.”

“Well, welcome to Florida.” Frank smiled again.

“Frank, please listen to reason” Evelyn leaned forward slightly “At some point, you are going to get to the conclusion, or someone in authority is going to spell it out to you, that the child’s best interest is all that matters.

Frank bristled slightly, the child? Her name was Mary. Best interest? All he had ever done for Mary was what he thought was exactly that. He took a breath and looked at his mother, holding her gaze.

“If you're gonna make me pull rank, I will. Diane didn't want you to have her.”

“”Diane...” Evelyn started before her voice dropped slightly and her tone became softer “Diane didn't always think things through.

“Arguably one of the brightest minds on the planet, okay.” Frank nodded sarcastically “Good luck going down that road”

“And what do you think she'd say if she saw how her child is living now?” Evelyn shook her head “Do you honestly think she'd be pleased?”

“That she's living a somewhat normal life? Yes. I do.”

“She's not normal. And treating her as such is negligence on a grand scale.”

Frank glanced down at the table cloth as his mother continued

“I know your hearts in the right place on this but you are denying the girl her potential. I can provide for her. I can enrich her life.”

“Come on, Evelyn.” Frank scoffed, holding his right hand out and ticking off the points as he made them by raising his fingers “You're gonna take that girl, you are gonna bury her in tutors. Then you’ll loan her out to some think tank where she can talk non-trivial zeros with a bunch of old Russian guys for the rest of her life.”

“And you'd bury her under a rock.” Evelyn shot back “Look, I didn't expect you to understand the price you have to pay for greatness.

“Oh I do.” Frank replied, his tone stern “That's why I have Mary in the first place.

“That's uncalled for.” Evelyn’s face slipped slightly and Frank looked away. When he turned back her expression was the same as it had been prior “Your sister had a laundry list of problems. She could have solved Navier-Stokes and gone down in history as one of the greatest mathematicians of all time. But she didn't, because she couldn't finish. She was weak. Weak like her father and weak like...well…”

Frank raised his eyebrows and simply smiled at his mother as she trailed off.

“Now, if it's who I think it is,” he said, looking down and wrinkling his nose, “that kinda puts a black cloud over our luncheon.”

“You're still stubborn and vindictive.” Evelyn shook her head.

“Careful, Mother.” Frank intoned, leaning forwards resting both arms on the table “There's an apple and tree analogy lurking.”

“You guys ready to order?” the waitress interrupted the stare off they were having and Evelyn, ignoring her completely, stood up, reaching for her large bag which was resting on the table

“Here's an idea.” She said, reaching into her bag “Stop thinking about me and you and start thinking what's best for the child. For any reasonable person, a clear picture will emerge. If it doesn't, I suggest you call your attorney.” With that she slammed a $50 note on the table and placed a salt shaker over it. Frank glanced at it before he looked back up at her. “He'll have a bucket of beer.” she said to the waitress as she left.

Frank sighed and looked down at the table. The waitress glanced to him and he waved her away before he stood up and headed out, leaving the money where it was.

The rest of the day passed pretty fast, even if his mind was on this whole sorry mess. He managed to keep a front on for Mary, and bribed her with a trip to the stables to get her away from her Laptop and Math’s books. He had debated hiding the damned things but knew it would cause more trouble that it was worth.

“So she’s gonna take you to court?” Fliss scoffed as they watched Mary who was brushing Monty with Joanne.

“Looks that way.” Frank shrugged.

“That’s fucking unbelievable.” she seethed, and Frank had to smile at her indignation on his behalf

“Sadly it isn’t. “ Frank looked at her “I told you, she’s an exacting woman. I also told you nothing good would come of her turning up. Looks like I was right.”

“Also looks like I was right when I said she was a bitch.” Fliss replied, turning to look at him “Surely, you’re Mary’s legal guardian so they can’t just…” “Well, that’s the thing” he sighed “I’m not, it was never made official. I just tell people I am, stops them asking questions.” He paused. “Sorry I lied but, well I didn’t know you back then.”

“I get it.” Fliss looked at him before she glanced back at Mary. She took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose “You got a lawyer?”

“Yeah my friend, Greg.” Frank nodded “He’s a family law specialist. I already called him. I’m going to see him tomorrow so I can tell him everything, then it’s a case of waiting.”

He didn’t have to wait long. Two days later he received the court summons for little over a fortnight later.

*****

October 2017 “Hey, wait.”

Frank turned to see Fliss who was jogging up the steps to the courthouse. He glanced at Roberta who was smiling, a little smugly, and then back to his friend who he hadn’t expected to see today.

“What are you doing here, not that I’m not glad to see you but…” “I’m sorry I can’t stay I just wanted to swing by on the way to work and wish you luck.” She smiled reaching up to straighten his tie.

“It’s just the preliminary hearing today.” Frank said.

“I know but…” she took a deep breath, smoothing out his jacket. He looked at her for a second before she pulled him into a hug.

“Call me later ok?” “Yeah, I will...”

She nodded to him, giving Roberta a smile before she turned to go.

“Hey” He called after her and she looked over her shoulder at him “Thanks…”

She smiled and nodded heading back to her car.

“So she deviates here, just to give you a hug good luck, and you tell me there’s nothing going on…” Roberta looked at him.

“She’s a friend, a good friend.” Frank turned and shot her a look.

“Whatever you say.” Roberta sighed.

Frank shook his head, avoiding her gaze. If truth be told there had been the odd little moment where he’d picked up a few signals that perhaps she had feelings for him that went beyond simple friendship, the same way his did for her. But he convinced himself he was imagining things. They were from different worlds, why would a girl like her look at someone like him that way, especially with all this fucking baggage.

With a last look around he turned and headed into the court where after a short wait, they were ushered in.

Judge Edwards Nichols was a bald man with a moustache that any cowboy would be proud of. He gestured for everyone to take their seats and then pulled the case file over to him.

“Okay. Adler, grandmother and uncle…” he trailed off and looked up, glancing from Frank to Evelyn. “Really? Sure you folks don't wanna go on the hall and settle this?”

Silence ensued as Frank glanced sideways at his Mother who shifted slightly.

“No? Well, that's a shame. Mr. Cullen, you're here for the uncle.” the judge continued.

“Yes, I am, your Honor.”

“Should start charging you room and board.” Judge Nichols spoke, not looking up “Mr. Highsmith, you're on the wrong side of a bay, aren't you?”

“I'm very happy to be here, Your Honor” Evelyn’s lawyer replied.

“For the record, Mrs. Dibbons is representing the state of Florida Child Welfare Department.” Nichols spoke and Frank glanced over to look at a woman in a blue and white jacket and orange top in the gallery who held her hand up.

“Proceed.” Judge Nichols instructed and Evelyn’s attorney began to speak

“Your Honor, my client, Mrs. Adler, is the maternal grandmother of the child. Her daughter, the girl's mother was a troubled woman...who seven years ago sadly took her own life. It was at this time that Mr. Adler primitively and illegally…” At that Nichols shot a disapproving look at Frank and he shifted a little nervously in his seat, taking a deep breath.

“…took custody of the girl and spirited her across eight lines for the purpose of denying my client custody.”

Frank glanced over at his mother who was staring straight ahead, avoiding his gaze.

“And there's the evidence that the child currently lives in unclean and unwholesome conditions. We petition to court to grant my client full custody of the child so that she can return to the state of Massachusetts and be given the care to which she is entitled.”

Frank stiffened and Greg gently placed his hand on Frank’s shoulder, shaking his head before he stood up and addressed the accusations his Mother’s attorney had made.

“My client took an infant under his wing for one reason only. It was his sister's desire that he do so. My client has been her constant caregiver.”

Judge Nichols looked at Frank and he held his gaze.

“And your Honor, as far as the living conditions go, I've been in this home. It's fine. I mean, if we adopt standards based on our Northern friend's aversion to palmetto bugs we won't have a child left south of Tallahassee.”

There were a few dumbed down laughs from the gallery and Frank felt his spirits lift ever so slightly as Judge Nichols gave a smile and reached for a paper to his side, pen in his right hand.

“All right, last chance before this starts costing a lot more money.” he said.

“Your Honor, my client would need reasonable access to the child.” Evelyn’s attorney spoke after a pause.

“So ordered.” Nichols nodded “Ms. Dibbons, would you go out and check the living conditions?”

“On the books, Your Honor.” she replied.

“All right, folks. Drive carefully.”

Frank remained in his seat deliberating what that meant. So whilst the case was on going, Evelyn would have access to Mary and his home was going to be inspected by some woman as to how sanitary and safe it was. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Her lawyer has a nice suit.” Frank mumbled, his voice bland, betraying the hopelessness he was starting to feel.

“Relax, Frank.” Greg looked at him “More weight's put on the talent competition. Go have a cocktail. huh?”

A cocktail, or fifteen, felt like a damned good idea by the time Frank had picked Mary up and gotten home.

“Roberta,” he caught her as she was walking back to her house with a clothes basket full of dried washing from the line. “Would you like to have Mary tonight?

It was a pointless question, it was a Friday, she had Mary every Friday, but still.

“Why wouldn't I like to have Mary tonight?” she shook her head “I told you something like this would happen. Now look where we are”

Frank looked away, waiting got her to finish ranting.

“And I'm supposed to believe you know what you're doing. You couldn't even find a white lawyer.”

Frank scoffed “Wow…Look, just don't worry, okay?

“Don't tell me that.” Roberta looked at him. “There's nothing you can say that's gonna make me feel good because I have no say in any of this, Frank! I'm not a blood relative, I'm not a legal guardian. I’m nothing. Just the lady who lives next door, whose opinion means nothing. Whose feelings mean nothing”

Frank looked down, he knew Roberta cared about Mary. Hell she cared about the both of them, even if she wouldn’t admit it. He already felt bad enough about this as it was, and she wasn’t helping.

“So would I like to have Mary tonight? I'd like to have Mary every night.”

With that she walked past him towards her house, leaving Frank staring at the floor, his mood darkening by the second.

***** Fliss was edgy. She’d messaged Frank a few times and called but he wasn’t answering or picking up, and she was getting a little worried that things hadn’t gone that well. She locked the gate to the yard and glanced at her watch. It was a little before seven.

Biting her lip she decided to head over and see if he was still in, or if he had already left for Ferg’s, given that it was a Friday night. If he had already gone, then she’d go and keep him company instead of letting him drink himself into a stupor alone.

She pulled up and, shrugging on a short sleeved plaid button down over her vest top she jogged up the steps, knocking on the door, but even as she did she knew there was no one in. The TV was off and the usual chatter wasn’t audible. As she turned to leave she heard a yell and looked over to see Mary hanging out of Roberta’s widow.

“Hey!” she grinned “Frank’s gone out…but me and Roberta are having Karaoke…wanna join?”

Fliss smiled, “How could I refuse that offer?” she laughed, and headed to the door.

“Hey Fliss!” Roberta grinned as Fliss kicked off her sneakers and stepped inside “You just in time! Grab a microphone.” Fliss took the hairbrush Mary was holding out and laughed before she turned to Roberta. “How did it go? I tried calling Frank but…”

“Not too bad.” Roberta dropped her voice. “They opened with some bullshit about his house being unclean so there’s some woman coming to inspect it at some point…”

Fliss wrinkled her nose and shook her head “That’s crap.” “Yeah, well, I’m gonna give it a clean anyway.” Roberta shrugged. “And then apparently the Grandmother gets access whilst the case is going on. Frank’s lawyer did a pretty good job to be fair.”

Fliss let out a sigh “I thought it was gonna be worse than that given I haven’t heard anything.”

“Well me and Frank may have had a disagreement.” Roberta’s face was contrite “So I probably put him in an even worse mood.” “Look, I know this is frustrating for you.” Fliss nodded gently “But the last thing he needs is everyone telling him I told you so. It is what it is, and we just gotta support him.” “I know.” Roberta sighed, her eyes filling with tears “I just, well, I’ve known that little girl since they arrived here looking for a house 6 and a half years ago…” “I get it, I do.” Fliss smiled “I mean I’ve only known them eight weeks and I can’t imagine life without either of them now.” “Either of them?”

Fliss rolled her eyes “Stop it, you’re as bad as my mum.” Roberta chuckled and then both of them were instructed by Mary to stop talking and start singing, so they did.

After an hour and a rendition of what felt like Aretha Franklin’s back catalogue Fliss made her excuses to Mary and gave the girl a hug goodnight. Roberta walked her to the door.

“You gonna go find him?”

“Yeah.” Fliss said “Well, I’ll stop by Ferg’s see if he wants some company.” “Sure he will, it’s you.” Roberta smiled. Fliss snorted, shaking her head again at the woman’s insinuations and headed to her jeep. She climbed in and headed down to the bay, mulling everything over in her head. The stupid thing was, Roberta wasn’t wrong. She did have feelings for Frank that went well beyond being merely platonic. In the short time she had known him he’d broken through every barrier she had put up, and she trusted him in a way she never thought she’d trust a man ever again. It was almost liberating for her to realise she could feel that way about someone else after everything John had put her through.

But, now really wasn’t the time to act on it, that is if she was going to act on it. She had no idea if Frank felt the same way and she needed to figure out if it was worth potentially sacrificing their friendship for. No, for now she’d simply enjoy being able to be around him, be his friend…at least until this sorry mess was all sorted.

Pulling up outside Fergs she checked her hair before she reached into the back of her car and grabbed her knee high boots. Her riding breaches were a light blue so they looked like jeans, meaning she didn’t feel too conspicuous. A quick squirt of perfume later she hopped out of her car and headed into the bar.

It was loud and she glanced around trying to find a flash of one of his usual hideous Hawaiian shirts, but failed to spot one. Frowning, she was just about to give up thinking he must be somewhere else, when she spotted him at the bar, dressed in a pretty smart black and grey striped dress shirt. But he wasn’t alone. He was sat, quite close, leaning towards the woman Fliss recognised as Mary’s teacher. She hesitated for a second, and began to make her way over when Frank leaned even closer to Bonnie and Fliss’ breath caught and she felt an unwelcome, hot, buzzing sensation fill her entire body as he kissed the woman next to him.

Well, that answered her question about what she was going to do about her feelings.

Absolutely fuck all.

Swallowing and blinking slightly, she turned and headed to her car, gently wiping away a stray tear as it fell down her cheek.

**** Chapter 7

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

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nukyster-blog · 4 years

Text

Changing Course chapter 21) Forty minus one

Ivar awoke by the first sunlight of dawn. The white rays were watery and cold, like the temperature in the dungeon. Frost had slowly allowed itself to enter the castle’s walls and inched inside, ridding Ivar’s prison cell of the last bits of warmth.

Ivar did not recall if he slept or lost consciousness due to the cold. He guessed the latter, as the bitter cold had chilled his fingers into useless numbness and crept further down into his body. It spread painfully from his toes into his feet robbing his skin of all color.

“Maybe”, he thought, “this is not the worst day to die”; he honestly didn’t believe he’d survive the winter.

The cold of night had robbed him of strength, but not of spirit. He would not fight his death but he’d do everything in his power to keep his jaws locked and mouth shut. He’d undergo whatever punishment those Christians thought proper for his crime and die with dignity.

A gust of frigid wind wrapped around him like a shawl woven by ice itself. His teeth chattered as he tried to warm his body by rocking back and forth.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He began to lose his sense of time. Back and forth, back and forth. Hunger gnawed a hole in his stomach. Back and forth, back and forth.

The dead rat slowly but steadily became a reasonable meal. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Ivar?”

Ivar glanced up to the barred window. It was Piglet; in order for her to peek into Ivar’s prison cell she had to lay her head on the ground.

“Piglet?” Ivar crawled underneath the window and stared up, squinting his eyes. The young woman above reached back for a moment and managed to shove her arm through the bars.

A polished, red apple dropped into Ivar’s lap.

“Ivar…” her voice was brittle and soft; she reached further down into the cell as a desperate attempt for a last connection.

It was impossible. Even if Ivar had been able to stand, the walls were too high.

“I guess this is it then Piglet, we had a good run,” Ivar spoke toneless, watching her hand reach and wave, “we were a proper match you and I. It’s a shame you believe in a false God…” and that was where he stopped himself from becoming sentimental. Because both of them were aware they would never see each other again, there was no reason to voice the truth.

“A shame,” he ended and shut out all of her weeping. For a while, her arm remained reaching and waving, but as Ivar remained silent, Piglet eventually gave up and left.

He’d never know if she’d spoken any last words of goodbye for him, because he blocked everything out, all while eating her apple. Even the core, because he did not want her to get in trouble and he could use all the strength given.

.-.-.

Overnight the lessers of the castle had placed a beech wooden pole in the centre near the well. It wouldn't be the only silent witness of Ivar’s punishment. The rest of the bystanders were already buzzing and whispering about what was to come.

The Giant hadn’t been pleased with Ivar’s forehead statement and had wiped off the Runen R with spit and his sleeve.

The cobblestones bruised his knees as Ivar was shoved, poked, and kicked in order to get into the centre.

The three rulers and the fair maiden had taken place nearest the pole, seated on wooden chairs. Their place had the best view for the spectacle, although Lambertus and his wife, Haedwien, did not look pleased with being present. The fair maiden had her hand pressed against her mouth, cheeks pale and on the verge of getting sick.

And Ludolf, sat sunken on his seat, bored and maybe even a bit embarrassed. For it was due to his “wound” that the slave had to suffer and be an example for the rest. The bystanders were on foot, nudging and pulling to get to the front row.

For some reason Ivar was pleased to see the Christians fight for the best spot, at least those soulless bastards had some sense of bloodlust. Maybe they were more Viking then they’d like to admit.

Ivar was forced on his knees, facing the pole. His arms were stretched far above his head and tied to the beech wood. A knife was dragged jaggedly through his humble tunic, tearing the fabric open, baring his back, shoulders and neck completely.

“Will they Bloodeagle me?” Ivar wondered stunned, as he pressed his cheek against the wood in an attempt to pick up everything that was happening behind him. But his arms were tied too high, leaving his face and most of his upper body pressed against the pole, minimizing his mobility.

The Giant spoke some biblical nonsense; Ivar concluded from the Giant’s tone. Ivar’s assumption was completely confirmed when he heard the book slam shut.

The first lash came completely unexpected and Ivar broke his solemn rule—to keep his mouth shut. A pain plagued hiss managed to escape through his teeth. The second lash managed to hit the exact same position as the first and cut through Ivar’s skin. A tortuously slow pattern emerged, one of two lashes and then a moment of ease. Ivar later learned that moment of pause wasn’t for him, no, it was for the Giant, so his arm would not tire.

The lashes seemed to rip Ivar open to the marrow, like rigged daggers the leather dug deeper and deeper into his skin. Time did not matter anymore; all that remained was the rhythm of the lashes.

A scream from deep within forced its way from Ivar’s mouth, it was not one of fright, but one formed entirely of anger that unleashed itself like a demon. It took two more lashes to silence him, fists clenching and teeth locking up all of his remaining sound. Now that his anger escaped him, there was only despair.

Ivar lost count after fifteen, his ears were ringing and he could no longer see clearly. His mind seemed afloat; his body a vacant, aching shell. There was a low indistinct sound, almost animalistic. It took him a moment to realize those where his own hoarse moans.

The cobblestones wore more and more spatters of Ivar’s blood. It did not take many more lashes for his battered skin to peel loose, falling down at his knees like bloody autumn leaves.

A deep, raspy caw called down to him. Ivar’s eyes were able to focus enough on the top of the pole to see the black silhouette of a raven, contrasting against the milky white sky.

“Father—“ Ivar watched the bird as his front teeth scraped over the beech wood.

The raven cawed again, its beady eyes mercilessly taking in the scene beneath it. With wings black as tar, it gracefully landed near Ivar’s knees. Ravens were known for their curiosity, but even they knew their limits. It wasn’t common for birds to come so near such a large crowd of humans. But the raven did not show any hesitation and pecked at the remains of Ivar’s skin. It peeked up again, taking a piece of Ivar before lifting off, heading off into the milky white sky.

Ivar inhaled a sharp breath as the leather tore at his skin again, but this time he felt elevated.

“You can beat every inch of my body,” he whispered hoarsely, “but you cannot kill me. Not today, because I am Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and I have my father’s blessings.”

His eyes rolled back as his body was close to giving in to the immense pain scorching his entire back. The crowd had grown silent; most faces contorted with plagued expressions. The fair maiden had fled the scene. Ludolf’s lips were twisted into a satisfied, lopsided and sadistic smile.

Pain prevails over every emotion. It conquers lust, hunger, envy, hatred. Pain can divide brothers by blood; it can drive wise men mad.

To triumph over pain, you need to be extraordinary—near Godly.

In between the last few lashes, Ivar had an epiphany: he could not die before he’d fulfilled his destiny. And, although he did not know what lay in his future, he wholeheartedly believed the Gods had laid out an exceptional path for him. It became quite clear; he had beat death too many times to simply die by the hands of a Christian commoner.

Maybe he deserved this punishment, for he’d questioned the Gods too many times and cursed them for turning him from a cripple prince into a slave. His mother had been a Vülva, able to see the past, present and future. But interpreting the will of the Gods was hard, maybe she’d seen his death wrong and had it merely been a rebirth.

He’d been resurrected from death, by his father, time after time. So for today, Hellheim and Valhalla had to wait for his arrival, for he had his destiny to fulfill.

.-.-.

In the bible Moses’ Law referred to flagellation; the law itself meant forty lashes less one; thirty-nine lashes. The term was meant as a biblical one, in that 40 lashes were determined enough to kill a man, according to the Old Testament and thus 39 lashes was the most you give a man without declaring a penalty of death.

Today the crippled slave of de Haar survived forty.

.-.-.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I’ve been so impatient to write this chapter. At the start, I only had a few guidelines: hurt, massive hurt and excruciating hurt. But then I figured I had to keep Ivar’s spirit intact in order for him to survive. So yes, once again Ragnar in the form of a Raven reappeared. As I’ve mentioned before, you can see this every way you like, spiritual, emotional. Is it just a young man in desperate need of comfort, or is there truly a link between Midgard and Valhalla? Pick whatever you please. And in case you wonder, I’ve made up Ivar’s entire path towards his destiny like the moment I started writing this story. In my head, it’s all written out, wrapped into a trilogy. Now just the time to drabble it all out. The 40 minus 1 is a true thing btw, I’ve done some (too much) research, it’s believed that Jesus received 39 whippings and since I’ve thrown Christianity into the mix I figured I might as well add some information as well.

So that was it for today, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, or sat there cringing in your chair, either way I’ve done my job well.

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The kickass beta: @Sarahh-Jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless #ivar fanfic #alex hogh andersen #vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

the unseen one - 19

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: i keep playing this game called “if i add this song to the playlist will it spoil the ending” and it has become my new favourite game. sorry that it took me this long to post, it’s been very hot in cambridge which always gets me in a right mood (i hate summer and heat) so i’ve been putting my frustration into finishing my exams. had to take a break because if i have to talk about serotonin once more, my only serotonin left will leave my system 😂

hope you enjoy this chapter xx

Next Chapter >>

(not my gif, credit to creator)

James maintained a tight grip on her as the Charon took them back to his chambers in the Asphodel Meadows. She was silent and still almost like a statue, her eyes taking in as they went away from the Tartarus to the Elysium and finally to the Meadows. Y/N wondered why the King of the Underworld had decided to make his home in such a bleak place. The sounds were always of torture and mumbled cries, the souls were people who, in Y/N’s mind at least, deserved to be somewhere else, and were always begging to be taken out of their misery. It wasn’t a pretty place but his home wasn’t also she’d call a home of a King much less a god. The ceilings were high and the walls were painted in light and dark tones of grey with minimalistic furniture. It was a far cry from what her mother would describe when speaking about deities’ residences. However, James seemed to be a simple man, at least that’s how he showed himself before she got dragged way under.

- Do you want me to ask the servants to draw you a warm bath? Maybe some flower petals? - James questioned, his hand coming up to her face to push some hair away from her sight. - Do you wanna eat anything? Just tell me what you wanna eat and I’ll make sur ...

- Did you hurt Anne? - Y/N was probably the only person in the Underworld who could interrupt James without having the furies being released on them immediately. He daren’t look at her, knowing exactly the look she was probably giving him, the type of look that would make him want to carry the world on his shoulders until she was happy.

- I did not hurt Anne.

- Did you turn her into any of the following. - she raised her fingers as if she were mentally counting. - A plant, an animal, some sort of plant-animal, cursed her, made her grow serpent hair ...

- I didn’t do anything, Y/N. - he held onto her hands before she could list other ways gods had punished mortals. He did wanted to punish Anne, there hadn’t been anyone who deserved more to have the furies released upon them but he knew that if he did such thing, she would probably try and release the furies on him too. - However, next time something like that occurs I will punish them. I’m the God of the Underworld and I won’t undermine that.

- That’s fair. - Y/N scratched the back of her neck. She understood there was a side to him that she was yet to discover, the side of him that was a god, a ruler, but she still wanted to believe that he was her Bucky. - Shouldn’t I get back to Hecate and the other maidens?

- If you want. - he tried to maintain a calm facade but inside he was puzzling himself over if his words had maybe scared her and she would rather be with Hecate than to be with him. - You’re free to do as you may. I just thought you’d want to stay with me.

There was a tinge of disappointment and uneasiness in his features, tightened expression as he managed not to show her how upset he felt that she did not want to be near him. Maybe it was too much for her to handle, after all up until a few hours ago she was sure she was dating a CEO and now she was dating the God of the Dead.

Noticing his, Y/N slowly raised her hands to rest against his cheek, her mere touch raising feelings of warmth in him.

- Sounds like you want me to stay. - there it was, her little playful smirk. James wanted to roll his eyes at her, but he couldn’t help but feel some sort of way whenever she outsmarted him.

- I always want you to stay, Y/N. - of course he wanted her to stay. He had to endure the first moments of their relationship constantly counting the hours and looking at the sky so he wouldn’t be caught and now she was here. Sure, she was here due to uncertain circumstances, but she was still here. - But if you wanna go back to the Elysium, I would understand.

- I just don’t want to cause you any trouble. - Y/N slightly turned her head to the side, embarrassment creeping into her soft features.

- Why would you cause me any trouble, sweetness? - he took the hand that was craddling his face into his own hands, sensing something wrong. - Homesick?

- It’s just ... considering that I’m supposed to be one of Hecate’s maidens, wouldn’t people look down on you if they saw you with me?

- Y/N. - he sighed. - Your parents were Greek historians, right?

- Yeah.

- So tell me, what’s the worse thing a god has ever done? - that as a funny question for Y/N. There were lots of myths that made her sick to her stomach just hearing about it and other myths that would make her want to climb to Mount Olympus herself and punch some gods. The short answer was, there is no short answer.

- Do you want it in alphabetical order? - she joked.

- What do you think it’s the worse offence?

- Well, if you asked me what I think was the worse thing ever done by a god I’d say it was what Poseidon and Athena did to Medusa.

- Were their reputations ruined even after what they did?

- No.

- Then I won’t get in trouble for associating with one of Hecate’s maidens.

- Yeah but gods also turn into a wide variety of animals to go and do less than savoury things with mortals.

- Less than savoury things? - he smirked. - Last time I checked you were one of Hecate’s maidens not Artemis’.

- Cut it off. - she playfully pushed his chest away. Bucky just rolled his eyes at her behaviour, wrapping his arms around her waist, carefully moving her closer to him afraid she might’ve gotten hurt at the Tartarus.

- Come, let’s get some food in you. - he guided her through his place. She wondered why it was so minimalistic and why is it in the Asphodel Meadows of all places. Maybe he disliked to be surrounded by all the fauna and flora of the Elysium or maybe Hecate didn’t allow him near it. Nevertheless, it was an odd place and an oddly unremarkable home, at least for that of a King.

He left her waiting in his dinning hall, allowing her time to inspect it. There was nothing much but a dinning table surrounded by various book shelves. The books were in Greek for what she could muster but what caught her attention were a few picture frames by a half empty unit of the shelf. Y/N’s hands reached for the first one, a sepia coloured photo of Bucky and a blonde man she swore she’d seen before. His hair was much shorter and shabbier with a child like grin, arms around the blonde guy who looked much more polished. Her mind was telling her she had seen this picture before, she just couldn’t point it.

The other frame contained the photo of a couple dressed in hellenic clothing adorned by golden accessories. The man was standing tall, hand on the woman’s shoulder whose hair rivalled the gold colour of the pins in her head and stood sat on a porcelain chair. The look in the woman’s eyes was serene yet controlling, almost like a storm brewing over calm seas. On both their heads sat adorned jewelled crowns and the man held the same staff James had been holding back in the Tartarus.

- Y/N? - his voice suddenly echoing through the silent made her drop the face on the carpeted floors, a flush creeping through the apples of her cheeks as she herself dropped to the floor to grab it and put it back in its due place. - What are you doing?

- I was just looking at your photos. - she put her hands behind her back, eyes lowered to the ground like a child who had just been scolded. Bucky walked over to where she was standing, looking at the frame she had put back. - Are they your parents?

- No, sweetness. - he chuckled. - That’s Hades and Persephone, well, the original ones. I find you must have memory of those who came before you.

- She’s beautiful. I mean, I always thought Persephone had to be beautiful, after all it was said her undying beauty was what made Hades kidnap her.

- Hades didn’t kidnap her. - Bucky always forgot that mortals still fully believed the myth brought back to light by the Greek. Honestly, it was a disgrace that no Underworld God had yet to chance the misconception.

- Yes, he did. That’s why Demeter stopped doing her job.

- Sweetness, do you seriously think someone whose name means Bringer of Death could stay in the Underworld against her will?

- What do you suggest then? - she crossed her arms against her ripped tunic, all knowing smirk on her face.

- I don’t know if I should tell you now. - Y/N huffed, lips coming into a pout which made his heart melt at the look. - If you were to tell the story of Persephone and Hades, how would you tell it?

- I wouldn’t because I seemingly don’t know. - she had a playful nature to her gaze, a stark contrast to those with whom he spent most of his days with in the Underworld. James took her hand in his like a scene in a Jane Austen movie, slowly pulling her to him. - So what’s it gonna be?

- Persephone found the entry to the Underworld and decided to stay because she enjoyed it here. Once Demeter realised her daughter was gone Hades faked the kidnapping story for her because he was hopelessly in love with Persephone.

- What about the nymphs that saw the abduction? How do you explain that?

- There are some perks to being the God of the Underworld, sweetness.

- I’m guessing you won’t tell me what those perks are.

- Maybe later, sweetness. You must join me for dinner now.

- Bucky ... - she picked onto her nails, eyes looking at her shoes. - Who’s the man next to you in the photo?

tag list: @philogrobizedvee @keithseabrook27 @inlovewith319

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fruit-teeth · 4 years

Text

Matters of Time and Fate (8)

/(AHAHA FINALLY!! So sorry for the delay!! I know you guys probably thought I forgot about this story but I didn’t! Anyway I’m gonna shut up now, please enjoy)

Sniper woke up early that morning, and the first thought in his mind was that he wanted to make coffee. He’d had a rough, feverish sleep the previous night, and he needed to cleanse his mind with a cup of black coffee. Just the way he liked it.

As Sniper went to the kitchen and began to prepare coffee in the pot, he internally praised himself for waking up early before everyone else. Now he could have his coffee and he could make his breakfast in peace and quiet, without anyone –

“Are you making coffee?”

Sniper startled, turning around to see Olivia standing there. He fumbled for a moment, trying to think of how to answer.

“Uh…yeah, I am,”

Olivia hopped up on the chair beside the kitchen counter, looking over his shoulder. “Make a cup for me! I like milk and sugar in mine,”

Sniper processed this for a moment, before he looked back at Olivia, confusion in his eyes. “What? You want coffee?”

Olivia looked at him like he’d just asked a stupid question. “Yeah? I like coffee! My nanny makes some for me every morning, with milk and sugar,”

Sniper scoffed. “Really? I mean…” he scratched the back of his head. “You’re only six, should you really be drinking coffee?”

Olivia pursed her lips together. “My daddy says I can have it! He says everyone drinks it,”

“Well,” Sniper cleared his throat. “Six-year-olds don’t drink it. You know what I drank when I was six?”

When Olivia shook her head, Sniper replied, “Milkshakes, I used to drink them every morning. They’re not really that healthy, but I can show you how to make some,”

“Milkshakes?” Olivia thought about it, and then shrugged. “Okay. Can we put chocolate in it?”

Sniper just grinned at her. “I like your thinking! We can put whatever we want in them. You like peanut butter?”

Olivia nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

“All right, all right,” Sniper laughed, opening a cabinet and getting out a jar of peanut butter, as well as some cocoa powder. “Let’s get started – pass me the blender, yeah?”

Meanwhile, Engineer was sleeping peacefully on his air mattress when he was rudely awoken by the loud whirring of a blender in the kitchen. He startled, stumbling to his feet in the direction of the noise.

“What in Sam Hill is all that racket!?” he snapped, hovering in the doorway.

Sniper looked up from where he was pulsing the blender. “Sorry, mate! We’re making milkshakes, blender’s real loud…”

Olivia stared at the mixture of peanut butter, vanilla ice cream, cocoa, and banana through the clear plastic of the blender. “Press the button again! It still looks lumpy…”

Sniper pressed the button, and the violent whirring struck right back up. Engineer flinched at the sound. “Gosh darn it! I should make a blender that’s real quiet – I probably could!”

The whirring died down again, and Olivia checked the milkshake again, frowning. “Still lumpy!”

Before Sniper could mash the button again, Engineer shooed him away from the blender. “Hey, y’know what? There’s some stuff we still need from the store, how about we take a little shopping trip and I can buy some more parts to build a quiet blender? Then you can put whatever you want in there without wakin’ the whole house,”

Sniper huffed. “Look, the milkshakes aren’t done! Gotta blend ‘em somehow,”

Engineer grabbed a wooden spoon and handed it to Sniper. “Use this! Do it the old fashioned way,”

Sniper rolled his eyes, but he took the spoon and poured the mixture into a bowl. He then stirred around a bit before it appeared edible, and then he poured it into two separate glasses. “Here ya go,”

Olivia took one of the glasses, eyeing it suspiciously before taking a sip. Sniper sat down at the table with his own glass, watching her. “Thoughts?”

Olivia thought for a moment, before nodding. “Good! It’s good,”

As she sat down and started to drink the rest of it, Engineer began cleaning out the blender, when a thought struck him. “Hey, Olivia – would you wanna go to the store with us? You can look around, it might be good to spend some time outside,”

“The store?” Olivia asked, blinking. Her father never took her shopping, they always had someone around who would just pick up groceries and other necessities for them. “To do what? Buy things?”

“Well, yeah,” Sniper shrugged. “That’s what the store is for. You could even look at some toys too, if you want,”

“Toys…” Olivia had never owned any toys. Her father always dismissed them as ‘childish’, and she’d done the same. But, she realized, he wasn’t around, now…

“Okay, I’ll go,” she agreed, and then reached for her glass of milkshake again. “But right after I finish this,”

Sniper just chuckled. “Yeah, of course…”

Upon waking, Scout could hear the sound of Engineer’s truck starting up from the driveway. Confused, he got out of bed and went downstairs, watching as Sniper got his shoes on by the door.

“Hey!” Scout barked, leaning over the railing of the stairs. “Where you guys goin’?”

Sniper glanced up from his shoes. “Oh, we’re gonna go to the shopping center. We just gotta pick up a couple things,”

Scout hopped down the stairs, fixing his hair and grabbing an apple from a bowl of fruit on the counter to eat. “Can I go? I’ve been dyin’ to get some extra clothes and stuff!”

“Sure, if you want,” Sniper shrugged. “How fast can you get ready?”

“So fast!” Scout took another big bite of the apple, turning on his heel to head upstairs. “I’ll be dressed before you know it – I’m a master at gettin’ ready quick!”

True to his word, Scout was in his day clothes within just a few minutes. He sprayed on his cologne and bounced back downstairs, only to see Olivia standing by the door.

Scout flinched, as he was still a bit wary around the girl. “…hi? Um, whatcha doing, kid?”

Olivia looked away, and Sniper clarified, “She’s coming with us, we’re gonna get her out of the house for a bit,”

“Wha…!?” Scout opened his mouth to argue, but when he saw Olivia staring back at him again, he thought better of himself. “Okay, fine…” he sighed. “Is Engie outside in the car?”

“Yep,” Sniper opened the door, ushering Olivia and Scout out of the house. “Let’s not keep him waiting,”

As soon as everyone was in the vehicle, Engineer started it up and began to head down the dirt path leading to the road. The sun was shining bright overhead, casting the sky in a brilliant blue.

Olivia watched as the hills rolled by through the windows of the truck. She’d never seen anything like it until now, and she thought it was very beautiful. The way the sun reflected off of the wheat in the fields and the grass looked like something out of a story book to her, and it made her feel something she had never felt before, some kind of longing deep within her soul…

Engineer switched the radio on to a country station, and Scout huffed. “Aw, come on! Seriously, Engie?”

“Hey, it ain’t my fault you don’t have taste,” Engineer replied simply.

Olivia tilted her head, listening to the music. “What’s this?”

“Country music,” Sniper answered. “Have you never heard country music before?”

“No,” Olivia shrugged. “It sounds like those weird movies my daddy used to watch,”

Scout’s brow furrowed. “What movies?”

Olivia searched for how to describe it. “Movies about these men with big hats and guns…cowboy movies! They’re called cowboys, I forgot,”

“Old westerns?” Engineer sounded surprised as he turned a corner, heading down into the town. “Your dad liked old westerns, Olivia?”

Olivia nodded. “Yeah, he watched them a lot while he did his work. I watched them only sometimes,” she remembered walking in during a scene where a sheriff was pointing his gun at a burglar, and how her father had paused his paperwork to point to the screen.

“Do you see that, Olivia?” he had asked. “We call that a ‘negotiation’,”

“But there’s a gun,” Olivia had pointed out. “And they aren’t really talking…”

“This is a last resort negotiation,” Gray went on to explain. “They actually are very good at getting what you want, you might find out,”

Olivia blinked, coming back to the present as she heard Scout talking again. “Huh!” he remarked. “Never took him for the type to watch those kinda movies, always thought he was more of…” Scout trailed off, glancing at Olivia and recalling what had happened the last time he made a snide remark about her father. “…never-mind.”

Olivia folded her arms back up and looked out the window, getting quiet again. The whole truck went silent aside from the music playing on the radio before Scout decided to at least try and make conversation.

“So, uh…” he cleared his throat, getting Olivia’s attention. “What are you hoping to find at the store, kid?”

Olivia just shrugged. “I don’t know,”

“You don’t know?” Scout asked, surprised. “Damn, whenever I went to the store as a kid, I always had a list of stuff I wanted to buy with my allowance. You can’t think of anything?”

“No,” Olivia shook her head. “I’ve never been shopping before,”

Scout’s eyes widened in alarm at that. “Never!? Damn, kid, what have you been doing your whole life? You know what? Here’s what we’re gonna do – I’m gonna show you what to do while at a store! I’m a pro, you’re gonna thank me later,”

“Don’t teach her anything stupid,” Sniper warned. “We don’t wanna get her in trouble,”

Scout waved him off. “Aw, come on! It’s gonna be fun, I promise,”

They finally arrived at the shopping plaza, a place Olivia had never seen before. As Engineer parked, Olivia stepped out and looked up at the buildings with awe. “Wow! There’s so many stores!”

“I know, right?” Scout got out after her, before turning to look at Engie. “Where to first, hardhat?

Engineer pulled out a list, checking it. “Well, let’s see…we need parts for the new blender, some extra snacks, and then whatever else we think we might need,”

Sniper pointed out a hardware store nearby. “How about there first? That looks like it’d have blender parts,”

As they walked in, Engineer turned to Olivia and Scout. “We’re gonna look at some parts, you two look around. Scout?” his tone changed to one more serious. “Keep her outta trouble, okay? I mean it,”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Scout waved him off, before gesturing for Olivia to follow him. “C’mon, kid! Let’s have an adventure,”

Olivia trailed after him, curious over what ‘adventure’ this store could have to offer. They wandered around a bit, before Scout paused. “Ooh, okay! Take a look!”

“What?” Olivia looked to where he was pointing, and she gasped a little. Sitting several feet away were a line of model bathrooms, complete with their own bathtubs and showers. “What is that? Are those real bathrooms?”

“Nope!” Scout grinned, approaching one and running his hand over the sink. “They’re models – if you wanna buy a bathroom, or make one, or whatever, these are models you can follow, pretty much,”

“Oh!” Olivia approached it, fascinated, leaning over to look in the tub. She turned the levers, but no water came out. “There’s no water!”

“Yeah, it ain’t hooked up,” Scout explained, checking the cabinets. “Aw, sweet! Someone left something in here!” he fished it out, only to make a face. “Ugh, never-mind. It’s someone’s stupid pamphlet thing from…the ‘Sculptor’s Clayground’? Huh,”

Olivia wandered over to another model, seeing a beautiful clawfoot tub. All of the sudden, she had the urge to climb into it, and without thinking about it she clambered inside sat down.

Scout noticed, and he laughed, leaning in to look. “There ya go! I wonder if you could hide in here…you’re small enough, ain’t ya?”

Olivia made herself as small as possible, but she suddenly laughed, imagining surprising someone like this by hiding in the tub. She’d never considered doing something like that before, but it felt very exciting somehow.

Before Scout could see if she could fit in another model tub, a voice from several feet away barked, “Hey! What are you doing!?”

Olivia sat up in time to see a woman in an employee’s uniform walking up to them, and Scout immediately became defensive. “Hey, hey, we’re just playin’ around, lady!”

“I’ll say,” the woman sighed, gesturing for Scout and Olivia to leave. “This isn’t a playground. Please just take your daughter and move along,”

Olivia paused, looking to Scout in confusion. “Daughter?”

Scout’s eyes widened, and he suddenly appeared offended, scooping Olivia up and setting her down. “I am not her dad!” he exclaimed, before taking Olivia’s hand and briskly leading her away from the models, leaving the employee very confused.

#hehehe i finally wrote something im so proud of myself #writing #my writing #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 scout #tf2 olivia mann #tf2 gray mann #he dead tho #food

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding High Ch 6: The Mother Ship

Chapter Summary: Mary gets into another spot of trouble and Frank’s mother turns up. (what a bitch!)

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Chapter Song: Satellite Call by Sara Bareilles

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

“So she hit him?” Fliss looked at Frank.

Frank took a deep breath. “In the face with a book.” Fliss frowned “That doesn’t sound like Mary.”

Frank shook his head “She hit him hard too. Broke his nose. I saw the kid leaving as I was going into the school, blood all over his shirt…” he scoffed “But, you know the really bad thing about it? I’m actually kind of proud of her. I mean this kid was 12 and he was picking on another kid Mary’s age and…” “That’s not a bad thing, that you’re proud!” Fliss said, shoving the last of her sandwich in her mouth.

“You should have seen the look her head teacher gave me when I said that.” Frank snorted, scrunching the empty bag of potato chips he had been eating in his hand and tossing it into the rubbish basket in Fliss’s office. “I mean, I know you can’t hit people, and I told Mary that…” “Well, that’s it then.” Fliss said, shrugging “Job done. She did something wrong, albeit for the right reasons and you dealt out the chastisement.” “And punishment.” Frank said “Told her she had to apologise in front of the class.” Fliss leaned back in her chair and studied him for a moment “ok, what’s really bugging you Sailor?”

“Am I that easy to read?”

Fliss shrugged before she nodded and deadpanned “Yes.” Frank scratched at the skin around his collar “They raised the issue of her being gifted again, told me she would be better off in a special school.” “Ah.” Fliss made a noise “And I’m assuming you told them to politely fuck off?” “In a fashion” he snorted “I was honest, said the last thing that she needs is reinforcement that she's different. She already knows that.” “Well if you keep saying it they’ll get the message. They can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to Frank.” Until the authorities get involved… Frank shrugged the thought from his mind and looked up as Joanne walked into the office.

“Your 1pm is here.” she smiled “Hey Frank.” He nodded to her as Fliss stood up, shooting him an apologetic look “Sorry to kick you out.” “I need to get back anyway.” he shrugged “Look, do you wanna come over later? I kinda told Mary if she apologised properly and didn’t misbehave we’d get pizza. She told me to ask you so…” “Sure.” Fliss nodded, smiling softly. “Sounds good. I finish here at…” she checked her diary “4:30ish so I’ll come straight over.”

Frank nodded and with a last smile he left her to it.

The rest of the day went smoothly. There were no calls from the school, he managed to fix the fuel line on the boat he was working on which meant he was done ahead of schedule, meaning his payment would be ahead of schedule. He’d promised to pick Mary up from School so he did just that and Bonnie came out to tell him that she had, in fact, apologised and gone one further by telling the class that the kid whose project had been destroyed deserved the class prize.

“I’m proud of you.” Frank said as they drove home.

“What for?” Mary looked at him.

“For being big enough to own up to being wrong.” Mary looked at him.

“And because you did what you said you were gonna, Fliss is coming over for pizza.” “Yessss!” Mary let out a whoop, and threw her hands up in a cheer.

Frank chuckled and shook his head. The woman had certainly made an impact in Mary’s life, that was for sure. And his, if he was being honest.

He pulled up outside the apartment and knocked the car out of gear before he reached down for the handbrake.

“There's a lady standing in front of our door.” Mary said.

“Who is it?” he asked, cracking the handbrake up.

“How should I know? I'm seven.” she scoffed back.

Good point… he turned to look and did a double take as he looked at woman stood on his doorstep, dressed in a pale brown dress, sunglasses and handbag slung over her shoulder.

Frank cut the ignition, one arm resting on the steering wheel as he glanced at her.

“That would be your grandmother.” he said as Mary continued to look out of the window

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed.

He was too shocked himself to chastise her for her language, that and he kind of agreed. Holy shit indeed.

“Come on…” he said, getting out of the truck. Mary hopped out of her side and walked with him up to the door.

“Mother.” he greeted.

She looked at him with a tight smile “Frank.”

“Mary say hello.” he said, his hand falling to the back of her head.

“Hello.” she greeted his mother politely.

Frank headed up the steps and his mother moved out of the way as he unlocked the door. She reached for the large bag by her feet, which frank could see was loaded with gifts and he rolled his eyes. He gave her a look and she simply smiled as he picked up the bag and carried it in. That was typical of her, thinking she could throw money at something and make it all ok.

Nice one, Fred!

“An Apple?” Mary gasped as she unwrapped the sleek, white box from it’s pink and gold polka dotted paper. “Woah…”

“It's a MacBook, darling.” his mother spoke. “Top of the line with the Retina display.”

“Hey, you know who else has a Retina display?” Frank looked at her, arching an eyebrow.

“Fred!” she said with a grin. Frank looked over and saw the cat who was lounging on Mary’s bed swish his tail.

“Mary, I understand you like mathematics.” his mother spoke and Frank took a deep breath, glancing to his side where she was stood “So, on there you will found a great out of print book by Charles Zimmer...”

Oh here we go… Frank thought to himself as he sat back, running his hand over his stubble.

“…called Transitions in Advanced Algebra.”

“Yeah. Love that book.” Mary said, turning the laptop over in her hands.

“You're saying you've read it?” his mother spoke and Frank didn’t miss the tone of surprise, yet excitement in her voice. Nope, he did not like this one bit.

“Yeah, I've kinda moved on to differential equations now.” Mary shrugged.

“Hey, don't forget your manners.” Frank spoke from where he was sat on the chair, elbow resting on the table, hand supporting his temple “Thank you, Grandma.”

“Thank you, Grandma.”

“Grandmother or Evelyn will do just fine.”

God, she never changed…Frank inhaled and looked away, his hand falling softly to the table in a fist.

“There's so much more on there. Things I know you'll find really challenging.” she moved towards Mary and Frank stood up.

“Yes, but sadly it's a school night and there's homework to do.”

“I thought you said Lissy was coming over?” “She is, so you need to get that homework done. But…” he gestured to his mother. “What a surprise though, right? Say good night to Grandmother or Evelyn.”

“Goodnight…”

“So who’s Lissy?” his mother asked as Frank ushered her out of the house “Don’t tell me you finally sorted your life out and got a girlfriend?” “Mary’s riding instructor, and no, she’s a friend.”

“She goes horse riding?”

“Yeah.”

Evelyn looked at him, before she sneezed into her tissue.

“I'd kill a priest for a Benadryl.” she said as they strode towards the black Mercedes she was clearly hiring.

“Still with the allergies?” Frank looked at her.

“Why in God’s name have you got a cat? You don't even like cats.”

“It’s not my cat, it's Mary's cat. I'm just along for the ride.” he shrugged. “So let me guess, our lovely principal, Miss Davis…”

“Never get on the bad side of small minded people who have a little authority. I thought I taught you that.” his mother said, turning to face him as she reached the side of her car. Frank took a deep breath and looked up just as Fliss’ white jeep turned onto the road. She gave a wave and he tossed a hand back and turned to his mother.

“What are you doin' here?” he asked her bluntly.

“You don't think I have a right to see my granddaughter?”

“I do. I'm thrilled your seven year exhaustive search has finally come to a fruitful conclusion.” he retorted sarcastically.

Even before she got out of the car Fliss could tell the exchange between Frank and whoever the woman was looked tense. Frank’s face was stony and his eyes were hard in a way she’d never seen before. She hesitated for a moment, then deciding it was far ruder to sit in her car and watch, she jumped out.

“I don't think this is appropriate time to talk” She caught the woman’s British accent and her head snapped towards her. Was this his mother?

“It’s certainly not the setting.” she continued as Frank rolled his eyes and leaned back against the car bonnet. “When I was waiting a cockroach this big tried to steal my shoe.” She finished, holding her thumb and forefingers as wide apart as they would go. Fliss shook her head, and shut her car door loudly and turned to look at Frank.

“Yeah. They'll take a shoe.” he nodded.

Fliss smirked to herself at Frank’s response and he caught her eye as she was passing.

“Mary’s inside. I’ll be with you in a sec…” he winked at her but as she turned to go the woman spoke to her. “You must be Lissy…” the woman looked her up and down. Fliss glanced down. She was still in her riding gear only had traded her long boots for a pair of sneakers. Her long checked socks still pulled up to her knees, not that she should give a shit what this woman thought but she suddenly felt a little self-conscious.

“Felicity…” Fliss said holding out her hand politely. Frank smirked to himself at her correction to his mother, using her full, formal name not nickname before he gestured between the pair of them as they shook hands, his mother raising an eyebrow at her.

“Fliss, this is my mother…” Frank said, confirming Fliss’ suspicions “She was just leaving…” he turned to look at her. His mother held his gaze and then glanced around

“Honestly, this? This God forsaken mosquito ranch was a conscious choice?”

Fliss felt a rush of anger and before she could stop herself she jumped to Frank’s defence.

“I wouldn’t worry, I find Mosquitos are pretty particular about who they bite. I hear they’re not fond of people that taste bitter.”

Frank’s mother turned to face her. Fliss could feel the nerve in her jaw twitching at the out and out bitchiness of the woman in front of her and she could sense Frank watching her. Nevertheless, she didn’t move her gaze from the woman in front of her. Frank’s mother cocked her head, almost like she was assessing her for a moment before Frank spoke up deciding to break up the battle for alpha female that was going on.

“I could drop you back off at the airport.” he looked at his mother. She shot him a look and climbed into her car, shutting the door. He walked a few paces till he was besides Fliss before he turned and looked at her as she reversed the car.

“That’s your mother?” Fliss asked as the car drove off up the road

“Yep.” Frank said, his eyes on the tailgate as it rounded the corner.

“No offence but she seems like a total bitch.”

“Not total…” Frank said, looking down at her “I’d say about 89%”

Fliss laughed and snaked an arm round his waist “Come on Sailor, I’m starving.”

“This thing is loaded with cool problems.” Marry muttered.

“Only problem I’m interested in is picking what to have on my pizza!” Fliss spoke. Mary’s head jerked up and she grinned.

“Hey…” she nudged him and he turned to face her, giving her a tight smile. “Push it out…” she gently reached up and tapped her finger against his temple “Order dinner and then when Mary’s asleep we’ll talk, that is if you want.”

He gave her a smile, this time genuine and nodded.

Two hours and a couple of large pizzas later Mary was in bed and Frank and Fliss were sat on the steps outside the kitchen, drinking beer.

“So the teacher calls her, and she turns up?” Fliss shook her head “Because you pissed her off?” “The Principal.” Frank corrected her, “But yeah…pretty much.” Fliss let out a sigh.

“The thing is, Evelyn won’t give up. Not now Mary’s confirmed her suspicions.” he drained his beer.

“What you think she’s gonna do?” “I dunno.” Frank said “But one things for certain, there’s gonna be nothing good that comes from her showing up.” He looked out over the lawn, the various lamps illuminating the grounds and the street. He felt Fliss slip her arm round him and she leaned against him.

“Well, you won’t be on your own. You got me and Roberta in your corner, along with your…what was it you called them?” "Circle of Trust” he said, laughing at the fact she’d remembered the nickname he and his friends had for their group.

“Am I in that circle yet?”

“Dur.” he nudged her gently before he rest his head against her. “But, if you’re along for the ride, Cowgirl you better buckle up…coz it’s gonna be bumpy.” “Meh..” she said, giving a small huff of laugh “The best road trips are.” *****

Turns out the appropriate time and place his mother was referring to was the next lunch time at a little bar overlooking the beach. He nodded to his mother as he took his seat.

“So, are you teaching?” she asked him as he took a sip from a glass of water.

“I repair boats.” Frank replied.

“Please.” She rolled her eyes.

“I'm not bad at it either.”

“Well, then, that explains this.” she said, gesturing to his face “They don't sell sunscreen here?”

“I wear sunscreen” he said, in the same tone he would use on Mary when she was making a pointless statement.

“Not enough. And you need a hat. A big hat that shades your face and neck. You're playing Russian roulette with your skin. You look like porn producer.”

“Okay.” Frank said, shaking his head, suppressing a smile “I appreciate the advice. I do. But we're not here to talk about sunscreen, are we?”

“So no more small talk? That's a shame.” Evelyn said, taking a deep breath “Okay, the environment you have created for that child…where she lives, the school she attends…it's substandard. Every bit of it.”

“I disagree.” Frank said calmly

“We're going nowhere if we're not being honest with each other.” Evelyn shook her head.

“I am being honest.”

“I see. Fine. Well, I'm not leaving without her.”

“Well, welcome to Florida.” Frank smiled.

“Frank, please listen to reason” Evelyn leaned forward slightly “At some point, you are going to get to the conclusion...or someone in authority is going to spell it out to you, that the child’s best interest is all that matters.

Frank bristled slightly, the child? Her name was Mary. Best interest? All he had ever done for Mary was what he thought was exactly that. He took a breath and looked at his mother, holding her gaze. “If you're gonna make me pull rank, I will. Diane didn't want you to have her.”

“”Diane...” Evelyn started before her voice dropped slightly and he3r tone became softer “Diane didn't always think things through.

“Arguably one of the brightest minds on the planet, ok.” Frank said, nodding sarcastically “Good luck going down that road”

“And what do you think she'd say if she saw how her child is living now?” Evelyn shook her head “Do you honestly think she'd be pleased?”

“That she's living a somewhat normal life? Yes. I do.” Frank replied honestly

“She's not normal. And treating her as such is negligence on a grand scale.”

Frank glanced down at the table cloth as she continued.

“I know your heart's in the right place on this but you are denying the girl her potential. I can provide for her. I can enrich her life.”

“And you'd bury her under a rock.” Evelyn shot back “Look, I didn't expect you to understand the price you have to pay for greatness.

“Oh I do.” Frank replied, his tone stern “That's why I have Mary in the first place.

“That's uncalled for.” Evelyn’s face slipped slightly and Frank looked away. When he turned back her expression was the same as it had been prior “Your sister had a laundry list of problems. She could have solved Navier-Stokes and go down in the history as one of the greatest mathematicians of all time. But she didn't, because she couldn't finish. She was weak. Weak like a father and weak like...well…”

Frank raised his eyebrows and simply smiled at his mother as she trailed off.

“Now, if it's who I think it is... “ he said, looking down and wrinkling his nose “That kinda puts a black cloud over our luncheon.”

“You're still stubborn and vindictive.” Evelyn shook her head.

“Careful, Mother.” he said, leaning forwards resting both arms on the table “There's an apple and tree analogy lurking.”

“You guys ready to order?” the waitress interrupted the stare off they were having and Evelyn, ignoring her completely, stood up, reaching for her large bag which was resting on the table

“Here's an idea.” she said, reaching into her bag “Stop thinking about me and you...and start thinking what's best for the child. For any reasonable person, a clear picture will emerge. If it doesn't, I suggest you call your attorney.

With that she slammed a $50 note on the table and placed a salt shaker over it. Frank glanced at it before he looked back up at her.

“He'll have a bucket of beer.” she said to the waitress as she left.

Frank sighed and looked down at the table. The waitress glanced to him and he waved her away before he stood up and headed out, leaving the money where it was.

“So she’s gonna take you to court?” Fliss scoffed as they watched Mary who was brushing Monty with Joanne.

“Looks that way.” Frank shrugged.

“That’s fucking unbelievable.” she seethed, and Frank had to smile at her indignation on his behalf

“Sadly it isn’t. “ Frank looked at her “I told you, she’s an exacting woman. I also told you nothing good would come of her turning up. Looks like I was right.”

“Oh.” Fliss said, looking at him before she glanced back at Mary. She took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose “You got a lawyer?”

“Yeah my friend, Greg Cullen.” Frank nodded “He’s a family law specialist…I already called him. I’m going to see him tomorrow so I can tell him everything, then it’s a case of waiting.”

He didn’t have to wait long. Two days later he received the court summons for little over a fortnight later.

*****

October 2017

“Hey…wait…”

Frank turned to see Fliss who was jogging up the steps to the courthouse. He glanced at Roberta who was smiling, a little smugly, and then back to his friend who he hadn’t expected to see today.

“Lissy? What are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you but…” “I’m sorry I can’t stay I just…I wanted to swing by on the way to work and wish you luck.” she said, reaching up to straighten his tie.

“It’s just the preliminary hearing today.” Frank said.

“I know but…” she took a deep breath, smoothing out his jacket. He looked at her for a second before she pulled him into a hug.

“Call me later ok?” “Yeah, I will...”

She nodded to him, giving Roberta a smile before she turned to go

“Hey” he called after her and she looked over her shoulder at him “Thanks…”

She smiled and nodded heading back to her car.

“Lissy?” Roberta looked at him.

“What?” he frowned “It’s just a nickname...”

“Mmmhmmm...” Roberta eyed him “A nickname.”

“Yeah...”

“And she deviates here, just to give you a hug good luck, and you tell me there’s nothing going on…”

“She’s a friend, a good friend…” Frank turned and shot her a look.

“Whatever you say…” Roberta sighed.

Frank shook his head, avoiding her gaze. If truth be told there had been the odd little moment where he’d picked up a few signals that perhaps she had feelings for him that went beyond simple friendship, the same way he had for her. But he convinced himself he was imagining things. They were from different worlds, why would a girl like her look at someone like him that way, especially with all this fucking baggage.

With a last look around he turned and headed into the court where after a short wait, they were ushered in.

Judge Edwards Nichols was a bald man with a moustache that any cowboy would be proud of. He gestured for everyone to take their seats and then pulled the case file over to him.

“Okay. Adler, grandmother and uncle…” he trailed off and looked up, glancing from Frank to Evelyn. “Really? Sure you folks don't wanna go on the hall and settle this?”

Silence ensued as Frank glanced sideways at his Mother who shifted slightly.

“No? Well, that's a shame. Mr. Cullen, you're here for the uncle.” the judge continued.

“Yes, I am, your Honor.”

“Should start charging you room and board.” Judge Nichols spoke, not looking up “Mr. Highsmith, you're on the wrong side of a bay, aren't you?”

“I'm very happy to be here, Your Honor” Evelyn’s lawyer replied.

“Proceed.” Judge Nichols instructed and Evelyn’s attorney began to speak

“Your Honor, my client Mrs. Adler is the maternal grandmother of the child. Her daughter, the girl's mother was a troubled woman...who seven years ago sadly took her own life. It was at this time that Mr. Adler primitively and illegally…” At that Nichols shot a disapproving look at Frank and he shifted a little nervously in his seat, taking a deep breath..

“…took custody of the girl and spirited her across eight lines... for the purpose of denying my client custody.”

Frank glanced over at his mother who was staring straight ahead, avoiding his gaze.

“And there's the evidence that the child currently lives in unclean and unwholesome conditions. We petition to court to grant my client full custody of the child...so that she can return to the state of Massachusetts... and be given the care to which she is entitled.”

Frank stiffened and Greg gently placed his hand on Frank’s shoulder, shaking his head before he stood up.

“My client took an infant under his wing for one reason only. It was his sister's desire that he do so. My client has been her constant caregiver.”

Judge Nichols looked at Frank and he held his gaze.

“And your Honor, as far as the living conditions... I've been in this home. It's fine. I mean, if we adopt standards based on our Northern friend's aversion to palmetto bugs...we won't have a child left south of Tallahassee.”

There were a few dumbed down laughs from the gallery and Frank felt his spirits lift ever so slightly as Judge Nichols gave a smile and reached for a paper to his side, pen in his right hand.

“All right, last chance before this starts costing a lot more money.” he said.

“Your Honor, my client would need reasonable access to the child.” Evelyn’s attorney said after a pause.

“So ordered.” Nichols nodded “Ms. Dibbons, would you go out and check the living conditions?”

“On the books, Your Honor.” she replied.

“All right, folks. Drive carefully.”

Frank remained in his suit, deliberating what that meant. So whilst the case was on going, Evelyn would have access to Mary and his home was going to be inspected by some woman as to how sanitary and safe it was. Fantastic…

“Her lawyer has a nice suit.” Frank said, his voice bland, betraying the hopelessness he was starting to feel.

“Relax, Frank.” Greg looked at him “More weight's put on the talent competition. Go have a cocktail. huh?”

A cocktail, or 15, felt like a damned good idea by the time Frank had picked Mary up and gotten home.

“Roberta…” he caught her as she was walking back to her house with a clothes basket full of dried washing from the line “Would you like to have Mary tonight?

It was a pointless question, it was a Friday, she had Mary every Friday…but still.

“Why wouldn't I like to have Mary tonight?” she shook her head “I told you something like this would happen. Now look where we are”

Frank looked away, waiting got her to finish ranting.

“And I'm supposed to believe you know what you're doing. You couldn't even find a white lawyer.”

Frank scoffed “Wow…Look, just... Don't worry, okay?

“Don't tell me that.” Roberta looked at him. “There's nothing you can say that's gonna make me feel good... because I have no say in any of this, Frank! I'm not a blood relative, I'm not a legal guardian. I’m nothing. Just the lady who lives next door, whose opinion means nothing. Whose feelings mean nothing”

Frank looked down, he knew Roberta cared about Mary. Hell she cared about the both of them, even if she wouldn’t admit it. He already felt bad enough about this as it was, and she wasn’t helping.

“So would I like to have Mary tonight? I'd like to have Mary every night.”

With that she walked past him towards her house, leaving Frank staring at the floor, his mood darkening by the second.

“Hey!” she grinned “Frank’s gone out…but me and Roberta are having Karaoke…wanna join?”

Fliss smiled, “How could I refuse that offer?” she laughed, and headed to the door.

“Hey Fliss!” Roberta grinned as Fliss kicked off her sneakers and stepped inside “You just in time…grab a microphone…” Fliss took the hairbrush Mary was holding out and laughed before she turned to Roberta. “How did it go? I tried calling Frank but…”

“Not too bad.” Roberta dropped her voice “They opened with some bullshit about his house being unclean so there’s some woman coming to inspect it at some point…”

Fliss wrinkled her nose and shook her head “That’s crap…” “Yeah, well, I’m gonna give it a clean anyway.” Roberta shrugged “And then apparently the Grandmother gets access whilst the case is going on so…Frank’s lawyer did a pretty good job to be fair.”

Fliss let out a sigh “I thought it was gonna be worse than that given I haven’t heard anything.”

“Well me and Frank may have had a disagreement.” Roberta said, her face contrite “So I probably put him in an even worse mood.” “Look, I know this is frustrating for you.” Fliss said gently “But the last thing he needs is everyone telling him I told you so. It is what it is, and we just gotta support him.” “I know.” Roberta said, her eyes filling with tears “I just, well, I’ve known that little girl since they arrived here looking for a house 6 and a half years ago…” “I get it, I do.” Fliss smiled “I mean I’ve only known them 8 weeks and I can’t imagine life without either of them now.” “Either of them?”

Fliss rolled her eyes “Stop it, you’re as bad as my mum.” Roberta chuckled and then both of them were instructed by Mary to stop talking and start singing, so they did.

After an hour and a rendition of what felt like Aretha Franklin’s entire back catalogue Fliss made her excuses to Mary and gave the girl a hug goodnight. Roberta walked her to the door.

“You gonna go find him?”

“Yeah.” Fliss said “Well, I’ll stop by Ferg’s that is, see if he wants some company.” “Sure he will, it’s you.” Roberta smiled. Fliss snorted, shaking her head again at the woman’s insinuations and headed to her jeep. She climbed in and headed down to the bay, mulling everything over in her head. The stupid thing was, Roberta wasn’t wrong. She did have feelings for Frank that went well beyond being merely platonic. In the short time she had known him he’d broken through every barrier she had put up, and she trusted him in a way she never thought she’d trust a man ever again. It was almost liberating for her to realise she could feel that way about someone else after everything John had put her through.

Pulling up outside Ferg’s she checked her hair before she reached into the back of her car and grabbed her knee high boots. Her riding breaches were a light blue so they looked like jeans, meaning she didn’t feel too conspicuous. A quick squirt of perfume later she hopped out of her car and headed into the bar.

It was loud, and she glanced around trying to find a flash of one of his usual hideous Hawaiian shirts, but failed to spot one. Frowning, she was just about to give up thinking he must be somewhere else, when she spotted him at the bar, dressed in a pretty smart black and grey striped dress shirt. But he wasn’t alone. He was sat, quite close, leaning towards the woman Fliss recognised as Mary’s teacher. She hesitated for a second, and began to make her way over when Frank leaned even closer to Bonnie and Fliss’ breath caught and she felt an unwelcome, hot, buzzing sensation as she watched the pair kiss.

Well, that answered her question about what she was going to do about her feelings. Absolutely fuck all. Swallowing and blinking slightly, she turned and headed to her car, gently wiping away a stray tear as it fell down her cheek.

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan @icanfeelastormbrewing @pagesoflauren

#frank adler x ofc #frank adler #gifted #gifted fan fic

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mercurygray · 4 years

Text

On today’s episode of ‘Crossovers No One Some Of You Asked For,’ the Harlots x Girl Gang crossover ...got a part two.

@junojelli @majwinters @enchi-elm, collect your darlings.

Honest 18th century whoring below the cut.

It surprised people to know Dick Winters wasn't a stranger to brothels.

He had never been in one before he met Lew (He'd been Sir Lewis, then, ever and always) but a few months of acquaintance had soon put paid to that when the Baronet discovered, quite to his delight, that the company's new Captain was possessed of a rigorous moral compass, an iron will, and a more than unusual amount of respect for the female creature. Which was how Captain Winters soon found himself seconded to Sir Lewis' nocturnal expeditions as the bearer of his purse.

That first trip had been - eye-opening, to say the least. He'd grown up on a farm, and done a bit of fooling himself, but he'd never had money to throw at a problem like a cockstand, and even moreso since taking his commission. These women were professionals, and the fact that he seemed entirely uninterested became, to them, a heady aphrodisiac. (Not true: he was very interested, only also very mindful this was not his money he was holding, and it was more than he'd had in his entire life.)

When Sir Lewis emerged in the morning, rumpled and refreshed, he found his captain surrounded by three young ladies exchanging thoughts on Mr. Sheridan's latest play and how it treated the army. (The young ladies, as it turned out, had some thoughts about the stage's recent treatment of dames de nuit.) "Pay her," Lew announced, as the creature who'd been entertaining him lounged in the doorway in a dressing gown, both baronet and nymph watching, amused, as Winters rose to his feet and laboriously counted coins into her hand, thanking the girls for their time.

That had been recommendation enough for Lew, and this had become a sort of standing arrangement, one that had grown over time to that of friend, as the Regiment moved back to peacetime quarters and the life of an officer became much less rigorous where drill and paybooks were concerned.

Yes, Dickie Winters was now, indeed, quite familiar with London's brothels, high and low, and the brothels were becoming quite familiar with him. Lew's regular haunts had stopped bothering with wine and set out a cup of tea and the latest broadsheet when they had word he'd be coming round, and he could usually be assured of some good conversation with the men who kept the door, or the whores themselves who weren't working.

"I'm beginning to think," Lew said, walking home to barracks one morning, "that they like you more than they do me."

"I make sure they get paid, Lew," was Dick's reply, and Lewis only laughed.

Tonight, however, Lew was carrying his own purse, quite sure that where they were going he would not have his pocket picked. Golden Square, in Covent Garden, the most fashionable address for a whore to own to. There were a few sporting houses here for the rich and titled - Lydia Quigley's was the best, but Mrs. Ellory kept a fine table, and for entertainments, masques and plays, none could rival Mrs. Peaceman, whom clients were pleased to call Lady Columbia. Lewis' standing arrangement with Black Eileen had yielded them an invitation, much sought after, to The Surrender of the Queen, and, an even higher honor still, a personal meeting after with the Amazon.

But what he’d seen tonight troubled him.

It was a...a dream, he reminded himself, a story, told and acted for the benefit of bored aristocrats who'd seen too much pleasure in their lives to appreciate it when it came. Standing in the hallway, waiting, it came back to him in fits and starts, his mind still turning it all over. "Come then and kiss the Roman sceptre," the view they had offering only a glimpse of the actor's hand around her hair as she pleasured him with her mouth, the way the papers on his desk had slid to the floor as he pressed her into the table and took her from behind before he'd slipped a knife into her ribs, some hidden bladder bursting with blood, the way her body had slithered to the floor and she lay like the dead, “See then what Rome thinks of your surrender.”

He'd seen others slip away with waiting nymphs, their desire only getting started, but as aroused as he had been, (and he’d been aroused) he didn't want it slaked now - he wanted to pick up the woman from the floor and bathe the blood from off her face. The men watching were supposed to see themselves as the Consul - he could think only of the husband, the king who’d been dead before the scene even began.

The door opened. "She'll be right in with you, gentlemen," the little maid said with a modest bow. "She's just having her bath."

This room had a distinctly different feeling from the grand salon downstairs, obviously a space that saw less people and a deal more use. Bookshelves lined one of the walls, shelves fairly crammed with books and a stand in the corner held a stylized suit of armor, a greek hopalite's helmet perched atop it. A desk was neatly arranged with pen and ink to hand, several books waiting to be referenced. One almost noticed the bed last, though it wasn't for lack of size - but the message was quite clear: This was not the room of a simple whore.

Dick perused her shelves, half-expecting to see novels, but there were none to be found. How many women kept copies of Marcus Aurelius in the original Latin?

“Gentleman.” Here she was - the Amazon herself. Gone the bloody classical drape, the golden ornaments in her hair, the stripe of blue paint across both her cheeks - the woman who received them was no longer a queen, only an ordinary mortal in a silk dressing gown, her skin faintly wet from the bath. “Sir Lewis, we are honored,” she said with a gracious smile, crossing the room to let him kiss her hand. “It isn't often we see you in our humble confines. What did you think?”

“Masterful, as always,” Lew said, kissing her hands and then her cheek. “I thought your pleading excellent, but then, you know me. Where did you find your Roman? He’s hung like a horse, but his delivery was poor.”

She smiled, as she did, indeed, know him - her friend was his mistress, and known to be in the whipping trade. “Would you believe he fancies himself an actor? Peaceman likes him; he has ‘the look’, she says, but that’s all he has going. I was half afraid I was going to need to feed him a line. I’m asking we not see him again for a little while, my mons can only take so much of Priapus. Wine?”

“You’re very kind, thank you.”

“I don't think I know your friend,” she said, pouring three glasses of a pale white and crossing the room to pass them out. Up close, she was...enchanting, even without the artifice of paint. He took the glass silently, mindful that she did this with everyone.

“Captain Richard Winters - he’s a member of my regiment.”

“And you, Captain?" He said nothing, but she must have seen something in his eyes, for she chuckled. "You disliked it. Not quite to your taste?"

He chose his words carefully. "Boudicca was a great queen among the Iceni, a warlord who assembled one of the largest armies in Britain, sacked two of their greatest settlements and held her ground against one of the best-trained armies in the world.” He paused. “I would have had her fight back."

It wasn’t what she was expecting, and she looked intrigued. "You'd have liked a... more violent rape, then?"

The word rape hit him like the flat of a blade, and he knew he’d flinched. “‘If you weigh well the strength of the armies, and the causes of the war, you will see that in this battle you must conquer or die. This is a woman's resolve; as for men, they may live and be slaves.’” he quoted. “I'd have liked to see a warrior who knew her worth.”

She looked impressed. "You've read your Tacitus."

"Cassius Dio has her say something similar about sheep ruling over dogs and wolves. If I recall."

For a moment she only stared, her expression hard to read, before she turned to Lewis. “Where on earth did you find him, Sir Lewis?”

“The gutter,” Lewis said succinctly. “We’ve polished him up a bit.”

Dinner was produced (acting was hard work, and she did not like to eat before in case something disagreed) and she and Dick continued their discussion of the histories while Lewis leaned back in his chair and found Eileen waiting for him. “What did you tell her?” Lewis asked, watching the conversation unfold with unparalleled amusement.

Eileen grinned. “Not a thing.”

Lewis whipped around to look at her. “What, no - no vow of chastity?”

“Nothing,” she repeated. “We were out with Leicester, and there’s you and your man across the garden, and she saw him first. Oh, Lewis. It was beautiful. I’ve known her girl and grown and she’s not an easy person to please, but you could hear celestial choirs in her eyes. She was pleased as punch when I said you’d asked to come to the house. Didn’t say a word about him - which means she’d like nothing better than to let him split her peach. And, clever man, he’s said not a word about it all evening either.”

“That’s not clever, that’s just Dick,” Lewis corrected, watching the two of them argue conjugations. “His idea of a good time in a whorehouse is a cup of tea and a chat with the help.”

“Well, it’s working,” Eileen said, still looking pleased as anything. “Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples - and Tacitus, apparently. She’s overdue to be seduced.”

It was very late indeed by the time the two men started for home - and they weren’t ten steps out the door when someone called them back. “Lew!” It was Eileen, chasing them down, her dark braid flying. “On Monday she's at Angelo's, to start practice for the next scene. Come for a fight.” Her eyes were fairly crackling with mischief as she grinned at Dick. “Captain,” she said, giving him a mock salute.

#crackfic ahoy #1780s girl gang #all the crossovers #tw: rape #tw: noncon

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9uk · 5 years

Text

The Stranger I Met On The Bus

⌲ summary : Your life became a mess of colours the day you decided to leave the luxurious comfort of your home and board the same bus a wandering Namjoon was on.

⌲ pairing : namjoon x reader

⌲ word count : 12.6k

⌲ genre: slow burn......fluff, angst, smut, strangers2lovers...? or not. unrequited love but fate does it thing ye

⌲ warnings : rough times man, sexual scenes

a/n: it’s super messy & horrible i know...but i’ve been dying to get this out and i’ve been feeling all sorts of things as of late :’

“Is there something you need?” He starts, after having mulled over the reason behind your incessant gawking for long.

You blinked.

Something you need? Was there something you need? Why was he suddenly questioning you?

How are you going to tell him that he looks so much like somebody you used to know?

The both of you stayed right there, staring at each other with an equal amount of confusion.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him the first time you saw him. It was a brief, yet impactful eye contact shared. The split second his eyes locked with your own had your insides whirring like a washing machine. He looked around your age, perhaps a little older. Obvious dimples and agonisingly familiar mono lids. Something about the way he left your orbs as fast as they landed on them made you feel like something was going on.

It was too quick.

Too fast till it exposed his scheme. The guy had been watching you the whole time, and you had successfully caught him red-handed. Or maybe you were seeing things. Feeling things. Things you could not decipher what were.

Coincidence is a strange occurrence not many have in their lives. Some call it fate, but really you’d like to believe it as just pure luck. It’s baffling how a mere stranger could be the reason behind your insides shimmering with excitement again.

The bus station was bustling with business men rushing off to their destinations, families making their way back home, or even, wandering souls who have lost their sense of direction in life, travelling far away from their abodes to seek comfort in the beauty of escaping. Take you, for example. To sum it up, you were running away from some family matters back at home. Ones that require way more energy and attention than you can handle.

You were just in line to collect your ticket for the entire bus journey. Quite a long and drawn-out ride, you would say. You silently thanked your brain for the abrupt cue to bring your book along just as you stepped out of the house. 11 hours. What on earth were you going to do spending half a day coped up in a long, empty carriage?

“Nothing,” Your lips finally discovered the courage to open up and let a word out. The exchange of weirded out, perplexed faces of expression resumed.

He raises his brows slightly, expecting you to provide the actual cause as a continuation.

It was a millisecond away from him turning his head back into his own business. But a millisecond seems a tad too long for your short fused patience on a Friday morning.

“What? I said nothing.” The last word is shot like a poison dart to the neck—attack acting as the best shield—and the stranger is utterly surprised by the switch in attitude.

He gets the red-light, diverting eyes to the front in an instant and pressing his lips into a firm line. Your feistiness cooled down and regret immediately settled in as your tone replays in your head.

You absolutely hated repeating yourself and towards the man who resembled him too much, you lost all the rationality you contained. It probably looked like you were a temperamental piece of shit who obviously had some serious anger issues, making it tough to convince him otherwise. You want to apologise straight away, you really do. But you find yourself tongue-tied wondering if you should say it with the pronoun or not. By the time you’ve arrived to a decision, it was too late. Apologising a few minutes after the outburst of questionable annoyance would just seem...weird.

Like you have been thinking about him all this while.

Which isn’t true, at all.

A tiny seed of ego sprouted until you were crossing your arms in fumes, mainly irritated at your own cranky behaviour.

You swore to the heavens that you were much nicer than the nasty impression you left on him.

It was just, a slip of the tongue. At an absurdly wrong timing.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him those two words that could clear your name.

Two hours of terrible attempts at falling asleep. The interaction with the handsome lad troubling the entrance of your dreams. The initial road is a bumpy one, the movements of the vehicle not coordinating with your pulse. One hundred and twenty minutes of stressing over the stranger of familiarity just inches away from you. He smelled like Seven thousand and two hundred seconds of—

“Excuse me, I want to get off.”

The lids you have been trying to press shut to let the unconsciousness close in on you flew open. Back jerking straight up, you realise you were in his way of leaving his seat.

The bus was almost empty, randomly splattered with a few passengers who did not need anything outside of this carriage. Vision a blur, you can only make out a big bright red panel that signified a gas station. He is a man patient enough to let you settle out of your trance before making space for his exit.

“Sorry.”

You snatch your purse and decided to get out of the bus as well.

From behind, a giant figure looms over yours and a sense of smallness washes over you.

Was your seat buddy always this tall?

You never noticed.

The mart at this particular gas station sucks. Out of 10, it barely even made pass 4.

You scanned the rows of snacks once more, as if doing just that would bring your cheese rings into existence. Forget about cheese rings, there weren’t even cheese balls available! The staple of snacks, king of crunches—to you, at the very least.

Shoving your hands into the pockets of your hoodie, you sighed in exasperation.

It is then you are suddenly reminded of the encounter with the guy sitting beside you.

It was time you got rid of the perpetual habit of yours to unleash your annoyance on anyone or anything.

After carefully reviewing every item under the snacks section, you ended up furrowing your brows at a bag of sour cream and onion chips. The grumble rolling off your stomach forces you to grab it off the shelf.

The kiosk is filled with people who were in the same bus as you, but yet you find yourself searching for a specific someone. You remember paying him no mind when you made a beeline for the mart, not wanting to waste anymore time from this precious brief stopover. For the familiar face that you still cannot put together the similarities. The uncanny resemblance in both their heights. It’s a funny thing because you always have a thing for guys around 6 feet tall.

The aluminium crinkles in your grasp as you fail to spot him. And there you are, left wondering about where the tall guy had went.

Placing your sole purchase onto the counter, you glanced over the lollipops decorated in a spiral. You absentmindedly stare at the wide array of bright colours with the beeping sound of your chips being scanned into the register.

Your focus seems to drift away, for you don’t seem to notice the cashier announcing the price of your potato chips.

“I’ll have this too,” Snapping out of the sandcastle building, you fish out a five dollar bill to the poor shop assistant who only just began her shift. “Thanks.”

Stepping outside, a fresh breath of wind whooshes past your face and you never felt this alive. Mainly because you’ve also never been up this early for so long and the morning air really hits different. It’s been forever since you actually witnessed the sun in its early form. It’s been also so long since you’ve had breakfast, and it being a bag of chips is fabulous and says a lot about your eating habits.

Most of the passengers are queuing for the public washroom, some are still lingering in the store heating up a grilled cheese or whatever. And so you drive yourself out of the lane and wander around with the remaining time left.

That would be a lie, truth to be told.

You weren’t just basically wandering around.

You were wandering around in hopes of bumping into that man.

Your legs brought your idling form to the corner of the walls of petrol kiosk.

You were not wholly surprised when you saw exactly what your mind pictured; him standing there leaned back against the white bricks and maybe, a cigarette in hand.

Except there was no tobacco or the cap he was wearing earlier on in sight, just him lowering the cellphone from his ear with dejection written all over his face. Did someone just relay a piece of bad news to him? Or did his girlfriend break up with him over the phone?

You stand there, taking in his gorgeous side profile and the cute tip of his nose you want to kiss. His Adam apple bobs as he swallows and tucks the phone back into the pocket of his navy pants. No one else has the ability to wear an outfit so baggy and casual and look like they belong on the runway. It’s like he knows which style suits him best and puts each piece of clothing to their fullest potential. His exposed brown locks fall over his eyes and your fingers itch to run through them and sweep his hair back.

It is in the middle of your not-so-subtle gawking when his gaze rises and falls onto you.

The expression on his face drops even further if possible, and he stumbles for the right words. The following squint of his eyes tells you that he did not thoroughly enjoy your presence. You roll the ball of the sweet in your palm nervously.

“W-Wha—How long have you been standing there?” The doubt flows out of his mouth and a clear displeasure in his tone.

Shorter than he thinks, definitely. You’ve only just arrived.

“A couple of seconds ago.”

The suspicion of you eavesdropping is not completely wiped off his face despite your answer. The despondency from before has somewhat grown into vexation, and he is ready to leave you alone in this alley.

The tension between the two of you is unbearable, like he has nothing to say to you or even annoyed by your existence while your fingers wrap around the lollipop stick even tighter.

“Hey,” You step in his way, but bodies not touching at all.

Gulping, you raise the candy in front of you.

“I-I wanted to apologise for earlier on,” You ignored the stammering and carried on. “I was being plain rude to you for no reason at all. I was having a bad morning and you just look so much like someone I used to know I-” You’re rambling and he cuts you off deadly.

“Is that all?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you realise there’s nothing else left to say. God, the lollipop in your hand makes you feel so stupid now. He’s trying to dismiss you as quickly as possible while you wish to become acquaintances with him. You were overthinking it. He is saving the embarrassment for you. This man was driving you crazy. Firstly from how scarily similar he looks to him and second from how you wanted to know everything about him now. The impression he left on you is near perfect—patient, understanding and an offbeat sadness adorning his features.

And the impression you left on him is a horrible, distasteful one. A kind of impression you would never want anyone to have of yourself, let alone the guy who looked so ravishing and have been nothing but nice towards you.

Why would someone acting blue be any of your business?

Precisely, because it’s this guy who you caught staring at you in the bus interchange and it’s the same guy who you lashed out at and again, the guy who you are currently offering a goddamned lollipop to.

You wanted to know who he was calling and why he looked so sad. You wanted so badly to wrap him in your arms and tell him that everything’s going to be fine. The important question however, remains untouched. Why were you trying to fix somebody when you were so broken yourself? You have been so deprived of proper love and care that you want him. It’s a rash burst of infatuation for that man.

If this is what the hours at the start of the day did to your buzzed head and racing heart, you finally understand why you constantly slept in till the peace of afternoon came.

All in all, you just needed him to accept the apology and move on.

You painfully muster the courage to avert your eyes from pink ball and look up at him.

“Yeah, that is all.”

A lie, because you have so much more to say to him and is in no position to put the thoughts out like that. There was no other way to explain a peculiar connection you one-sidedly felt with him without sounding creepy as hell.

He simply takes your answer as it is and receives the strawberry lollipop from you.

The way his slender fingers brushes over the back of your hand sends a shiver straight to your spine. He was warm and cold, polite yet dismissive. A walking contradiction, truly. A contrast that has you secretly swooning over him even more.

Nonetheless, you were glad he did not shove a rejection in your face.

Of all things that you could have done, you foolishly got yourself into a predicament with him like this.

Once everyone was comfortably seated, the bus driver hops on and whirs the bulky engine to life once more.

When you returned to your seat, the wrapper had already been ripped off and the lollipop was being savoured in his mouth already. You try to hide the blooming smile on your face.

You were busy plucking the petals of a non-existent flower in your mind, contemplating at maximum whether or not you should strike a conversation with him.

If you did, you played out the different possibilities of responses he could have and how to carry on talking no matter what. It’s been quite some time since you’ve actually tried to talk to a stranger, and it was hard. But the desire to get to know him is diminishing all the worries bubbling inside you. When there’s a will, there’s a way indeed.

Rehearsing your voice in your head, you wait for the perfect timing to start speaking.

He was not doing anything much, still suckling on the ball of sugar and looking out the window.

You can’t help but admire his angelic features for a while. The cosiness of this coach granted the close proximity you had with him, allowing you to be able to catch a whiff of his smell. He didn’t smell like the sharp colognes of business men that flooded office areas, but rather, he had a soft lotion scent that was not too thick for your nose to hurt, yet subtle which has you craving for more.

Topped off with that coldness in his attitude and gentlemanly ways, you really are beginning to develop a tiny crush on him.

Very, tiny.

You have not much time left, it was easy to figure when someone was shamelessly planting their eyes on you.

He had no earpiece on, which was a good sign because you hated it when people tried to interrupt your music. And end up asking something so stupid, like your name.

“I never asked, but what is your name?”

Loud and clear, not wanting any slip-ups. The thread of tension that was initially pulled taut between the two of you seemed to have loosened on your side.

Like mentioned, you’ve actually browsed through all types of replies he could give.

He could have probed about the reason behind you wanting to know, or he could play games with you and not tell you, keeping it as a mystery unsolved so that you wouldn’t stop talking to him about it.

But no, his answer was the most difficult for the continuation of a conversation.

He is deeply distracted by the greenery outside, peeling his line of sight off the window pane and finally directing it to you.

He thinks—for whatever reason in this world you can about your own name—before gently replying.

“Namjoon.”

A blatant response which leaves you with not much options left to venture.

However, it doesn’t stop you from appreciating each syllable of his name. Nam and Joon just goes so well with each other just like how the colour of his cap matches his pants and you are naturally repeating after him, his name leaving your lips in such a blissful way. You are officially going bonkers for this man.

He doesn’t pay any more attention to you, turning to view the scenery that runs past the moving vehicle. The passing trees and blue sky are more interesting to look at than talking to you very apparently.

“That’s a nice name.” You pointed out and he flashes you a faint smile before going back to the window.

You note that he doesn’t ask for yours and an unexpected feeling of hurt thuds at your chest.

You take it as a telltale sign that Namjoon, is not interested in you like the way you are in him. All practice of the conversation gets deleted and thrown into the trash bin like a child’s silly doodling, and you sink back into your seat, trying to not feel all stupid and crestfallen.

Nothing else is said between the both of you until the next rest stop.

This time, you buy a packet of bread and a hotdog bun because it’s lunch.

He is no longer standing at some secluded corner of this new gas station, just shifting on both feet just outside the doors of this e-mart.

From inside, you spot Namjoon at the same place from before. You tear the package of the ready-made bun and observe him for a moment.

Namjoon had been repetitively trying to call someone. Each time the line reaches nowhere, his jaw clenches even harder and he tongues at his cheeks in a disputable infuriation.

Though, that is all you can see. You have yet to fully understand his actual situation.

The bells jingle as you push through the glass doors to exit.

Again, he removes the phone from his ear and angrily taps on the screen as if that would help his call get through.

“Here,” You offer him the bread. Butter flavoured, nothing too much to be disliked by anyone. You haven’t seen Namjoon eat anything from the start of the journey up till now and you are genuinely concerned about his hunger.

“Oh, no thanks. I’m not hungry.” You know that phrase too well. A statement someone would say even when they in fact are hungry, but the loss of appetite is too overwhelming for the empty stomach. The loss of appetite can be caused by several factors—like one being too bothered about something on their mind.

You retract the bread in hand from him, and fall silent.

“Do you want to use mine?”

You considered for a long moment before raising the suggestion.

The rest stop in the middle of nowhere would destroy reception for some phones, but yours could call from almost anywhere. Well, as the line contract promised.

Namjoon looks up and at last, a glint of care swirling in his orbs.

You wonder who he is trying to dial.

“Really?” It’s like he cannot believe the small offer you made, different from the other times you buy him food. You guess Namjoon really did not have a thing for food at gas stations.

“Yeah,” You click your phone to the dialling page.

“Mine should be able to get through.”

He swipes the device off your hand faster than light, not caring about the desperation he is displaying.

“Thanks.” He mumbles as he hastily keys in whoever’s number that was. It is soft, but it could still be heard.

The call seems to really manage to get through and he mouths an ‘excuse me’ before striding off to somewhere more private for the conversation to happen.

Munching away at your hotdog bun, you watch him grow frustrated as the call goes on, Namjoon crossly gesturing with his hands to try to get his point across and the locking of his jaw every time he spat out a word. Then, his eyebrows are knitted in fury, like he had just met with news of anguish. He stomps around, sometimes even yelling into your phone and at some point in time, you were afraid that he would smash your phone into pieces. The vein at his neck visibly pops and you could tell how many emotions he was trying so hard to contain. Emotions like anger, disappointment, confusion—all at once, bombarding poor Namjoon.

The person on the other end likely ended the call, for Namjoon stares ahead at a red stationary motorcycle with emptiness crowding his eyes. His lips were no longer aggressively moving to negotiate whatever that was, his hand turned motionless as well—and the phone lowers, just like the previous times. This time though, with a knowing answer and clarity clouding his glistening eyes.

His hands were tightly balled into fists and your phone almost gets crushed. Even from afar, you can see the rapid rise and falls of his chest and the grief stinging his eyes. You skipped through the hesitation and made your way over to the bull.

“Hey are you alright—”

“Thanks for the call.”

He is quick to shut you off, slamming the device onto your palm and strolls away to probably hide his moment of sorrow.

Namjoon looked more upset than anything you’d imagine. And it broke your heart to see him this unhappy.

“Namjoon!” You yelled after him.

Tracing his footsteps, his back faces you.

You can’t explain the need surging throughout you to just step forward and smooth your hand over the broad expanse of his back, the itch to calm him down and ask what was wrong. But you weren’t really in a position to do so.

The clock ticks a whole silent round before he slowly turns around with a long exhale.

The sight of his tear-stained cheeks and red eyes wrenches hard at your heart.

Strangers had boundaries, and you yearned to cross them with Namjoon.

“Do you…want a hug?” There was much nothing left on your plate that you could offer.

Awkwardly natural, the distance between your two bodies closes.

Everything afterwards happened in a blink; his head sinking heavily onto the blade of your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your body and your face smashing into his well-built chest.

Heaven, that’s the best description you can make of burying yourself into Namjoon arms.

You were supposed to hug him, and not the other way around.

He takes a deep breath, tightening his hold on you and his nose digging into your hair, making you fight back a shiver as you carefully rest your hands on his lower back. The smell of his lotion grows even stronger when you are this close to him, and you wished you could stay like this with him forever.

His breathing was still hard and you could feel his heart frantically hammering onto yours, as if having suffered a major attack.

The hug was quiet but comfortable. Everything with Namjoon felt comfortable if you even make sense.

“I needed this.” He mumbles into your skin, pulling away seconds after, causing you to cling onto every last bit of him.

The two of you returned to the bus straight away, with no words exchanged.

However, you can feel Namjoon beginning to open up to you.

Still, you’d like to take your time to understand him.

Feelings settled and heart at ease, the subject of the call and his breakdown was never broached again.

He was, as usual, peering at the outer layer of the woods along the road. Namjoon observes them with a concentration not to be disregarded.

It almost feels like he was scripting every line and carve on their barks, counting the number of leaves on each branch and watching how mighty they stood tall—which was technically impossible, but with Namjoon, one would never know.

“Ah, by the way,” You try to casually start a conversation, but at the same time you feel bad for interrupting his tree-watching session. “Where are you headed to?”

“Uh,” He hesitates, the area between his eyes scrunching up. “I… actually have no idea.”

He knew where he was going. But it looks like plans got ruined midway.

Was it because of the phone call? You promised yourself not to poke that matter. Not now.

“Huh. Same here. Probably the last stop or something.” You shrugged, nonchalant.

This huge bus was driving from the city to various locations—from small towns to farms and other districts basically.

You didn’t have a place in mind; you just needed to get out of that hellhole.

He widens his eyes at you because it is not all the time you randomly find someone as lost as you are.

Namjoon really has nowhere to go now. The most he could do would be to buy another trip back into the city—but that was the option he’d leave for last. Other than the mortifying decision to backpedal into your old routes, he could only face frontwards and hope for the best. It would be so easy to return to his hometown—which was along the way—where his parents would more than gladly welcome him with open arms, but the last thing he wanted was to become a burden to his family.

“You really don’t know where exactly you are going to?”

Taking in his words, you had to double confirm. Namjoon looked like someone who clearly knew all the directions in his life, knew for sure what to do and what not to do. Looks can be deceiving, after all.

“I wish I did.” His body turns to face you now, away from the window and the sudden attention is making you panic a little.

“Honestly, there aren’t many places I could go to either, so.” He points out, acting more like he was engaged in a conversation with himself rather than you.

At that, you could only smile in relation. Strangely, the both of you were very similar in thoughts but worlds apart in expression.

Namjoon enclosed his heart and mind, choosing the appropriate timing to open them and to specifically who. Meanwhile, you consistently let yourself out there even though you try not to, it just happens without intention. But the outgoing exterior eventually fades as you start becoming comfortable with keeping low and quiet as well. Many people would be shocked upon witnessing a whole 360 change in your demeanour, just as they would with Namjoon turning talkative.

“I wish I did too.” A light chuckle spills past your lips and as well as you are attempting to hide the misery suffocating your lungs, you don’t think you’re doing a great job at it.

Namjoon inspects your expression for a fraction, not adding on to the conversation anymore, before he throws his attention back at the greens.

Somehow, there formed an unspoken agreement between the two of you that the last stop would be your destinations.

As the trip went by, the number of passengers onboard gradually decreases, each and every one of them assured of where to alight and where they must reach. You were slightly envious of, especially the complete families who got down the bus with joy spread across their faces. They must have a home that is like a safe haven to them, one where the members could retreat to after a long day in comfort and bliss.

One you could never afford to have, despite how fortunate you were.

There was never an end to the screams and fights, the smashing of objects and the destroying of furniture like they costed nothing. The amount of terrible sleep you get every passing day, progressively shredding your sleep schedule to uneven strips.

It wasn’t until the start of spring when you arrived at a decision to leave home. School was still ongoing, but a break was urgent. Anymore of the nonsense you receive at both your workplace and home, you’re afraid you might just turn haywire and end up being sent to the mental hospital. Throw your mentally and emotionally unstable ass into the asylum—your parents had every aspect to perfectly do so.

“But miss, you can’t just leave like that.” Jungkook, one of your dad’s most trusted security personnel and chauffeur begs you to stay put in your sickening stuffy room with his undying persistence.

“Yes I can. Watch me.” He refused to open the gate no matter how hard you try to plea him and this was your final resort. Flinging your bag over the barrier, it lands on the other side of freedom with a heavy thud and that’s when Jungkook relents.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” You know he’s pissed when he says your name.

Jungkook was slightly older than you, but the both of you grew up together. The family feuds put him in an uncomfortable situation at times, but he wasn’t to step into matters as such.

Although maintained at a professional distance, it doesn’t stop him from bringing your favourite cake into the bedroom you would always be found hiding under the sheets from all that fighting. After the storm subsides, Jungkook always appeared with a cake and drink in hand to appease your frightened form, the desserts acting as a type of consolation he couldn’t provide. He was a sweet guy, but you never saw him that way. Jungkook was like an older brother to you. And he wasn’t that good at covering up his silly crush on you.

“Fine!” He unlocks the gate in the most passive-aggressive way ever and you only giggle.

You have him wrapped around your finger and it was no doubt an advantage to you could use all the time.

“Stay safe, regardless.”

You hold both his hands in the most dramatic way ever, swaying up to him like a Disney princess.

When you lean in close to his face, Jungkook is rendered speechless, a flushed mess.

“I will and thank you.” You hum sweetly and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Byeeeeee!” You sing and happily leave the stifling confines of the house, as well as an embarrassed Jungkook standing rooted to the ground.

Your eyes never leave Namjoon on the third rest stop.

The both of you sat in the convenience store, devouring bowls of instant ramen.

You wonder how one phone call can lead to all of this.

Everything Namjoon did was hurtingly adorable to you. Your heart twisted in a wickedly joyful manner when he furrowed his brows. You swear your eyes were pooling with endearment when his cheeks were stuffed full of noodles. The type of attraction you were having for Namjoon was fascinating, like never before. A kind of flower you’ve never had blooming wildly in your chest for a long time. You wonder how he feels about you. Whether he sees you in the same light or not.

The bowls sitting in front of the two of you are now empty, stomachs filled with content.

You stared at Namjoon and Namjoon stared back at you, your eyes never averting because you feel like you could drown in his pretty brown orbs forever. Namjoon breaks the contact and raises a question before you could.

“Is your shampoo jasmine?” He flickered his gaze to your hair, arms coming up to rest on the small table barely enough for two. His face suddenly grows bigger, featuring becoming clearer as the gap in between is shortened.

“Yeah,” You breathed out when he moving towards you. He was leaning so close to your face, you feel yourself unknowingly reversing a little.

Then, everything vanishes and he relaxes back on the chair again.

“And h-how did you know?”

“Someone I used to know.” His voice comes out quiet.

The both of you grabbed lollipops before returning to the coach.

This was the final stretch before the journey ends, the longest one amongst the rest and the fatigue is starting to consume you whole, eyelids feeling heavy.

You don’t know how or when, but a shoulder is pressed to your cheek as hand lightly shakes you.

“We’re here,” He says, stirring you awake.

The driver is long gone, in the restroom or something.

You jump off the coach, butt and neck feeling sore.

The two of you stood in front of a shredded motel.

“Looks like we’ll have to make do.”

The room was smaller than it could have already been, the ceiling paint flaking like horrid dry skin and the cream wallpapers looked like they were going to crumble into dust by a touch of the finger. The first blow is delivered to the layer of glass, cracks beginning to form in the center. Something smells. There’s a distinct stench lingering in the atmosphere of this room. Your eyes dart over to the bathroom. A dirty sock naps comfortably on the rusty towel rack—no, hibernates—because the navy piece of laundry seems to be having the time of its life stinking up possibly the entire motel with its century-old odour.

You switched your life goal to become as unbothered as that abandoned sock.

A second hit to the fragile material, completely falling apart but still you try your best to hold it together for the sake of Namjoon’s optimism.

“Sure we do.” You mumble, but it is amplified in the tiny space.

The volume of your voice was one thing, but Namjoon feels more gigantic than ever, his large frame towering over yours and unknowingly you shrink. He looked so much bigger than you noticed from before and it is evident that you have definitely been noticing him for quite a bit. It must be the size of the room, and not the rapid blossoming of your attraction for him.

The only bed sandwiched between both your standing forms was yet, another issue to be solved. There wasn’t even a couch to be spared, you had to place your bags on the crusty floor. You can’t even hide the grimace crumpling your features when you spot a black dot faded under the white sheets, crawling its way to the pillow. That sight itself, shattered the already broken glass pane of tolerance into fragments.

“Trust me when I say this isn’t the worst I’ve seen.”

Namjoon chirps in, trying to lift the frown off your disgusted face. “Honestly, for a place beside a gas station, this is-”

“Not okay at all.”

You arrived at a decision. And that is to get the hell out of this trash can before Namjoon’s witty tongue and strong cologne persuades you otherwise.

An idea flashes in your mind.

No one would have guessed that you were the daughter of a pair of millionaire parents.

Dressed humbly in a hoodie and leggings, you passed off as any other normal person. You did not fancy the wealthy status plastered onto you since birth. Instead, you actually wished for a simple, blissful life. It was true that money could solve most problems, but you were seeking for another kind of happiness. A happiness so genuine and pure. The grass is always greener on the other side. You weren’t planning to let Namjoon know about your family background at all, but the circumstances the both of you were caught in left you with no other choice.

As soon as you laid your eyes on the bed bug having the time of its life under the sheets, you boldly grabbed Namjoon’s hand and flew out of the musty motel.

The sun was already diving into the horizon, daylight beginning to feel insufficient.

The haggard old man manning the petrol kiosk watches the two of you exit the rundown building and if your vision did not fail you—he sniggers to himself.

Namjoon seems to have noticed this as well, head still turned to face the disheveled man after the two of you made your way to the grass patch by the main road. You stare at Namjoon looking at the man. He was unpacking some boxes of food, and you wonder what is so intriguing about that that Namjoon can’t peel his eyes off of him.

“It’s not easy,” He finally faces front, upon reaching the road. You tuck your fists into the warm pockets of your hoodie.

“What is?”

“Working at a gas station.” Namjoon mumbles lowly, fallen deep in thought.

You contemplate for a while before choosing to not say anything to that. You don’t know how to reply to that anyway.

The air outside was not the freshest, but it was heaven to your lungs compared to the interior.

Your first instinct was to call Jungkook.

This subconscious behaviour of yours has yet to be eradicated, and you figured it must have to do with the fact that Jungkook was the man who could do anything and everything in your eyes. Plus, he was someone you turned to habitually whenever you were met with a crisis. Major or minor.

“Y/N! You better get your ass home by midnight or else your father will behead me!”

“Woah, chill Jungkook. Can you help me see if there are any decent places nearby to stay at?”

Jungkook could easily track you down, a feature your parents granted him to better watch over you.

“What in the world are you doing there?!”

“Sorry. But please help me?” That is all you can provide. Namjoon raises a brow at your conversation over the phone. Darkness was racing to swallow the sky whole and there was not much time left for you to find shelter. You mentally prepared yourself for a sleepless night ahead.

“You’re kidding. There is literally nothing but dirt on that piece of wasteland. What did you expect? One of your father’s lavish villas to pop out magically in front of your eyes?” Jungkook sounds extremely frustrated with the situation you landed yourself in. What he doesn’t and wouldn’t need to know, is that you have someone by your side.

“However…”

All hope is not lost.

“Tell me more about this fantastic idea of yours.” Namjoon’s incessant questioning sparks an urge in you to just go up to him and shut him up with a kiss. Out of annoyance, of course. Containing the thought, you continue denying him of an answer.

“Just wait and see,”

You can’t believe it slipped your mind that the last stop was on the outlines of this town, which meant that the sea was close.

The beach that barely had any visitors was probably just a few miles away from this polluted gas station. The only staff who worked there was the old man from before reaching seventy, unkempt appearance for wandering spirits in this isolated town to see.

The place was derelict and untidy. Litter scattered across the road and the walls reeked of rotten flesh.

Finally, the sea approaches you and Namjoon. Compared to the gas station, the area wrapping the beach was spotless and your mouth falls open slightly. Walking towards the edge of the small cliff, down below laid the fine sand that reflected the dusty evening glow who’s rays of pink and purple are slowly overshadowing the initial golden.

It was then you realised the sun had never meant to eagerly head to bed, it was instead fighting against time, refusing to fade into the sea line this early.

Namjoon must be as struck as you are by the sight, for he doesn’t say a word, only calmly tracing your steps.

The both of you sat on the short grass, quietly admiring the sunset-tainted coast and watching the waves accumulate strength each time it leaves and arrives.

Legs dangling in the air and bags thrown on the ground, you wonder when a time like this would ever happen again. The orange sky gently toasting your eyes and the prickly sensation on the hamstrings. A guy who resembled your ex-boyfriend sitting by your side. A possible tent in your backpack.

A smile stubbornly grows on your face and you let out a soft giggle at the strange events of today, shaking your head at the foolishness.

“What’re you gleaming about?”

The tranquility is not broken by his voice, only further accentuating it.

“Huh? Oh. Nothing much really, haha…just everything maybe,”

You turn your head to look for his reaction at your contradiction and his eyes capture yours in bewilderment.

“I see. Don’t worry, I understand.” He smiles and the world vanishes, your heartbeat—the only thing you can feel.

“Sometimes the only thing you can do is laugh. When everything’s too painful, when everything’s too joyous, when everything’s going downhill or when everything’s so…serene.”

His fingers clutches onto a random stone and he begins meddling with it.

“Maybe all at once.” You lean back a little, easing into the conversation.

Namjoon chuckles.

“Sometimes though, you gotta vent it out!”

He swings his arm back and throws it forward, catapulting the innocent stone into somewhere in the salty water. It disappears from sight, so you would never know.

When the second-hand hit a quarter to eight, the moon’s motherly appearance persuaded the mischievous yolk to fully drop into the ocean. Nightfall pays a visit.

The possible tent in your backpack.

The only times you have ever slept outside of the neatly painted walls of your enormous room (excluding the walk-in wardrobe), would be sleeping over in the marvellous pink doll house bedroom belonging to your best friend. That counts…right?

There were a few camps here and there in your entire education journey. The thrill of water rafting with the bumpy rocks, the struggles of kayaking and capsizing in the dirty river, the tall grass that crept up your knees and the mud your track shoes sank into. You wish you knew how all of those felt, because every time your class was required to have the time of their lives in a camp site, your teacher would never pass you a consent form for that. Dejected, you already knew the reason behind the disallowing of your participation. It was too harsh for your body and health, they’d always repeat to you and you would stomp to your bedroom and make a mess out of your sheets with piping hot tears.

You hate living a sheltered life. You detested it, even though some may cry for days to have a pampered life like yours. Call it ungrateful, but you would rather live a simple life with simple happiness. Because money may be the manifestation of bliss, but it also creates problems that it itself cannot be able to solve.

However, money helped Jungkook to create this circular object to pop into a tent once you push the button located inside the mechanism.

“Why and how do you have this?” Namjoon sends you a questionable look.

“Don’t ask. I…uh, like to come prepared.”

You lied. Jungkook sneaked this compacted tent into your bag without you even knowing.

But he informed you about it over the phone and it came in handy at the very least.

“Well then, go ahead and press the activation button.”

“Erm…” You hesitated. What if this was some kind of abduction assistance for Jungkook to bring you back home to your fuming parents?

“I’m having second thoughts about this—Wait no!”

Namjoon yanks it out of your hands and slams the button.

The sphere starts beeping, a red light flashing on the top.

Paranoid, you subconsciously grab onto Namjoon’s hand like you always did to Jungkook when your father raised his voice.

A loud noise erupts from the transformation, and you screw your eyes closed in fear.

The round device jumps and explodes harmlessly, the surfaces opens and nylon sheets are spiralled out into the shape of a tent.

“Y/N,” Namjoon squeezes your hand.

“I think it’s done.”

The both of you view the tent, then the interlocked fingers.

Redness graze your cheeks and Namjoon clears his throat.

You quickly let go and step to inspect the inflated tent.

You silently thanked Jungkook as your body plopped onto the clothed base. Lying on the thin material with the cold ground just beneath it, you are able to feel the earthiness seeping through your skin and the softness of the soil as a bedding. The feeling was no match to the fluffiness of your blankets and bouncy mattress.

Namjoon had gone out to grab booze and a couple of ready-made food from the store earlier and you happily agreed. You haven’t got much of a choice actually, but you were grateful for an opportunity like this with him.

A buzz coming from behind interrupts your stargazing session, you pull your sight away from the deep black sky to realise that it was your phone.

Curiosity overruling your judgement, you reached for the phone.

It was a text from an unknown contact.

Your eyes doubled in size at the series of notifications.

Visiting the petrol station again caused a bitterness to rise up his throat.

He wonders if he will end up like the old man behind the counter in the future.

Namjoon was an aspiring producer and lyricist.

He hasn’t shot to fame with his completed works yet, but he has a strong belief that he eventually will, one day. He struggles with the low income the job as a gas pump attendant, taking care of his ill-stricken mother who had been diagnosed with lung cancer as of last year and all hope seemed to be lost.

The news came off as no surprise to him because his mother turned into a heavy smoker after his father abandoned the pair of mother and son for some other woman. The nicotine helped her relieve her stress and depression that consumed her heart, so Namjoon as a young boy couldn’t really say anything to stop his broken mother.

His only parent had insufficient funds to further continue his education after high school so he was left with no options but to work many part-time jobs to support himself.

As time flew by, Namjoon grew into a man that had no direction in life.

He worked in a polluted environment, paid for his mother’s chemotherapy, ate, slept and wished he’d never wake up to see the light of day again.

His apartment was filthy and small, but he was barely keeping up with the rent payments on time. Medical bills placed a huge burden onto his shoulders but he could not give up on his only family who always looked at him with sympathy and hatred.

Hatred because she had told him that life would be much better without her, and Namjoon was stubborn in not willing to let her life end even if it was for good.

His girlfriend did not improve the situation of his life.

If anything, she only worsened it.

She blamed him for being incompetent and unable to bring her happiness as a boyfriend.

She constantly gave degrading remarks and once mentioned that she felt humiliated by him. If anything, she made him feel shittier about his life than he already was.

She was toxic and he knew it but he was still unable to cut ties with someone who loved him back and was willing to stay with him for so long.

He was a man of strong will and he believes that once he succeeds in his ambition, all the problems he was facing at that moment would disappear.

His girlfriend would stop looking at him like he was a loser and his mother would recover faster in a cleaner and better environment.

This week was a turning point in his life.

His mother overdosed and Sunbin cheated on him a few days after.

To think that his own mother gave up on herself and him when he persevered was heart-breaking. Losing his only kin drove him to the point of insanity.

Beyond devastated, he was a step away from falling off the roof of his apartment.

But something about the bright full moon watching over him that night tweaked his decision.

The wind caressed his cheeks as a form of consolation and the stars sang in the gloomy moonlight for him.

Namjoon thinks, that maybe the occurrence of these events was a sign.

Maybe the heavens were trying to tell him something.

He climbed up the wall of his dead end and saw something greater.

His strength was back when he stepped down from the platform.

That is why the morning after he was at the bus station, waiting for the vehicle that will carry him around to clear his thoughts.

Being on a long bus ride relaxed him and for some reason, made his heart feel at ease.

Perhaps it was the trees passing by or the sun that stayed still in position when he was moving, but it filled him with happiness to distance away from the cruel reality for a while in the comfortable seats of a bus. Bus rides were so peaceful and he enjoyed them to the fullest every time without fail.

As he tossed the lollipop stick into the trash bin, his eyes skim across the people at the station, it hooked onto a book he had been wanting to read for a long time.

Jung’s Map Of The Soul: An Introduction was a book that summarises Jung’s vision of psychological and spiritual life.

He hadn’t got the time or money to think about a book, but now that he had seen the actual copy, he was intrigued.

His gaze travel up to the owner of the book, then to the book, then to your face again.

He wasn’t gawking creepily or anything, but your features were rather beautiful. Not that he went up straight to your face and told you that. But he stared for a while, switching between the book and you before minding his own business again.

Looking at you reminded him of his past and only girlfriend. A book in hand, warming her hands over a cup of coffee as he strikes a conversation with her over the book. Later on he found out that she was not into reading at all, and the precious book was a prop in her scheme to get Namjoon to notice her. He didn’t express the wryness he felt tugging at his insides, but he was a little shocked by her deceiving appearance. He wonders just how many more things she was hiding about herself. The only exception with you is that he did not walk towards you.

His girlfriend had just left him.

Sunbin called and he tried his hardest to not care.

It was impossible. He had to hear her out, know what exactly he did wrong, where it all started.

When you lent him your cellphone he keyed in her number like it was the only thing he memorised by heart and frustratedly waited for her answer.

Sunbin was the type to lie in order to achieve whatever result she wanted, but when Namjoon demanded the truth or she was exposed, she would tell him things from the bottom of her heart.

It was after her true explanation behind her abandonment of the relationship that Namjoon lowers the phone in hand and ends the call with a cold farewell.

It wasn’t anything that had to do with her character. It was about the money and status.

That was the time she informed him about how ashamed she was when she introduced Namjoon to her parents or told her friends about her boyfriend.

Namjoon realised that he had nothing to say about that, only silently agreeing and nodding in understanding.

But he wished that his own girlfriend would have a little more faith and pride in his passion and dreams. Not to the point where she’d went out and slept with another man.

His heart broke even more when she confessed that she brought the man home to meet her parents instead of him because he was more capable, as she stated.

Namjoon loved her like she was his everything and yet, she treated him like nothing.

Sunbin made him question his worth and drive all the time. He should be grateful that the poison in his life had been removed.

The third time you try to talk to him, he gave in to your advances.

Namjoon was just going to let whatever happen happen, not purposely going out of way to shut you out or anything.

He was single and available.

He could do anything he wanted now like a man with freedom now.

He’s got nothing to lose.

Namjoon returns with some greasy mac ’n cheese and some bottles of beer.

He finds you inside, full attention on the book that you did not even realise he entered.

The temperature was dropping and the inside of the tent felt as cold as outside.

“Don’t you find it a little cold?”

He ducks and steps inside with bags of food and drinks.

You put your book down.

“Do you want me to set up a fire or something?”

He pauses, fighting back a smile.

Before challenging you.

“Do you even know how to?”

He snickers and takes out the container, allowing the smell of cheese to roam the confined space.

“Right…you have a point.” You pout, the imaginary little campfire bursting like a bubble popped in your head.

Something even better comes to mind.

“Maybe we can… cuddle or something.”

Namjoon freezes, unable to make proper eye contact with you.

“It’s a friendly suggestion.”

You say that, but your eyes glimmer with hope and admiration for him.

After a long awkward moment, Namjoon seems to have set his mind onto something when he finishes his meal.

“We’ll see about that. Here,” He hands you one of the bottles of booze and you gladly accepted it.

The two of you sit at the exact spot from before, this time with the company of the moon and stars.

Namjoon looks at them like he did with the trees and you concluded that this man must carry a deep love for the nature.

“I have a question,” You take a swig of the beer to give yourself alcohol courage.

Should you ask it now? Or are you taking things too fast, considering that you’ve only met this man today and letting him know that you would give him the world?

“Moon or stars?”

You ask quietly, careful to not ruin the placidity of the hushed waves and bristling trees.

“The moon.”

“Why?” You chuckle at how his reply was almost instantaneous.

“The moon, you see. Stars, there are plenty of them. But the moon is the one and only. It may sound quite stupid to you, but I like special things. Especially when people don’t pay much mind to them…little things. Like the moon.”

You watch and listen to him speak attentively.

The moon isn’t exactly little, but you hold back your interruption to let him finish.

“Everybody is so caught up with their business—be it work or play—that they don’t care about the little things that much anymore. One day, if the moon turns slightly yellow, probably five in a hundred people would only notice. The rest don’t take the time to look at the surroundings, the peaceful nature that is with them in life. Which is quite sad actually. Why is stargazing so popular but moongazing isn’t? They come in a package, it’s unfair to exclude her from the word.”

At that, you burst out into laughter.

“That makes sense,” You laugh again. “Stars appear and disappear all the time, that is why. The moon…well, the moon is sort of always just there. People tend to take these things for granted you see.”

Namjoon turns to face you, allured by your explanation.

“Why do you think it’s whale watching and not fish watching?”

You tilt your head at him, providing an analogy.

“Because we don’t see whales all the time…” He mutters, staring into the distance as if he had just got a math equation figured out.

“Precisely. It’s a strange world.”

You were different.

It was silly of Namjoon to automatically assume that you were the same as his ex-girlfriend, because the both of you were total opposites.

She would have just actively dismissed him before he even started on his thoughts on the topic—no, she wouldn’t even ask a question like that.

Namjoon was sure that she did not even know about his love for the moon.

And here he was, with a stranger he met on the bus, pouring out his opinions and questions about stars and moons. He felt like he was on cloud nine to be able to talk to someone so comfortably about something so random. Something that not many would even give two hoots about.

Your fingers drum on the surface of the ground, your hands propping your body to sit upright on the edge of the cliff.

“Then,” You start again.

“Desert or sea.” You point out to the ocean, which was barely even visible under the shade of night.

“Can I choose beach?” Namjoon chortles, placing his hands behind as well to lean back, brushing over yours accidentally.

His fingers graze and land over your smaller ones, his big hand trapping yours in an almost uncertain way.

He didn’t move, you didn’t move. He just let his hand rest near yours, slightly touching but never mentioned.

You shake your head in response, grinning.

Namjoon was just about to answer with the latter but you beat him to it.

“I’d say desert. When you have everything… it could just drown you.”

You say this and bite on your lip, like having everything actually hurt you before.

Namjoon disagrees, a man who tasted the feeling of losing everything.

“Having nothing is just as equal.” He rebuts, washing the sadness stinging in his veins with a full mouth of beer.

Like a man suffering a drought.

A silence of mutual understanding blankets the conversation, staring at the glittery sky and listening to the rushed waves of the sea, and drinking booze.

Unconsciously, you slip nearer to him.

Blame the alcohol, because the feeling of his thigh touching yours was electrifying.

Somewhere into the slow night, you and Namjoon talked about all sorts of stuff without returning to the tent. The night breeze was cooling to the skin and you enjoyed it very much. Still, your thighs were still touching but no one got onto each other’s lap or avoided the skin contact. You placed the last bottle down carelessly, the clanking of it against the hard rock warning you of the close breakage—but honestly you couldn’t care less.

Namjoon was on his third bottle of Soju and you were on the second, but the answer was clear as to who was the lightweight.

“I think lobsters are immortals,” You made a brave statement, puffing out your chest.

“I think the fuck not, Y/N.”

You never liked your name being called by someone this much.

The way it perfectly flows out of his mouth, his thick voice and blank expression. Heat began creeping up to your cheeks—you’re unsure if it’s from the anger of retorting or your name on his lips.

You’re a little tipsy to be thinking coherent thoughts, but screw sobriety.

“Technically, there is evidence—”

“Oh, why don’t you just shut up and own some crabby petties?” You sassed back at him, ignoring his substantial proof of lobsters dying of age.

“And, leave. My. Lobsters. Alone.”

You draw your face closer to his as you tell him that, the realisation of the proximity between both your lips not dawning right on you yet.

You were in the middle of a discussion on crustaceans with him, and suddenly your face was pulled so close to his own.

Namjoon looks you in the eyes, something fiery can be sensed through his brown orbs and you can feel his breath on your cupid’s bow.

His gaze kept flickering between your lips and your eyes, and you dark your tongue out to lick at them, feeling slightly self-conscious.

Then, he makes home at your eyes.

“Did you just make a pun,”

His voice falls an octave, a hint of raspiness hidden behind his throat.

Both your bodies were leaning so close to each other now, arms behind each other’s backs to keep near.

“Yeah I did. So what.” You breathed out shyly yet your words bagged a heavy tut. You were surprised that you even managed to form a response being this close to Namjoon.

You swear your nose was bumping onto the tip of his now, the one you had so badly dreamt of kissing from the gas station earlier on.

You fired the last question.

“Kiss or be kissed,”

And your heart lurches when he steals the period of the sentence away, by dipping his head to snatch your breath away.

He was nothing like the kisser you imagined with those plump lips; rough, urgent and sensual all at the same time. Namjoon slants his lips with yours fervently, hand coming up to hold your neck firmly as he kisses you.

Fluttering your lids shut, your place your hands on his firm chest before smoothing them up to wrap around his neck. The action made him growl lowly before lunging onto your body like a beast starved.

A light whimper leaves your throat as he moves his lips rhythmically against yours, teeth clashing and breaths exchanged. Your moans in his mouth seem to encourage him further, but still his tongue makes no appearance.

He knew how to take things fast and slow at the same time, and you loved every moment of it.

Namjoon gains full control over you by tilting your head the angle he wants to devour you and he melds his lips with yours like you were going to disappear by the second.

He had pushed you onto your back onto the rock platform already, whole body caging yours when he finally breaks away.

You were a panting mess from his rushed kissing, lips swollen from how hard he had bit onto it and hair slightly tousled from his fingers running through it.

“Kiss. I want to kiss you all night.”

Inside you beamed like the brightest star alive and this time, it was you who captures his lips again.

Namjoon tasted like a mixture of bitter and sweet, he was soft in his actions but his mouth was relentless.

It took you a lot of willpower—with his face stuck to yours and hands caressing your jaw— but you succeeded in pushing him away to get inside.

“Namjoon,” You barely pronounce his name right, because he takes your gesture as a sign to continue his ministrations on your jaw.

“Do you wanna go into the tent instead?”

He plants a final kiss onto your lips before standing up and offering you a hand.

The buzz invites itself onto your phone once again and you internally groaned, wishing he’d heard nothing.

“I think that was your phone,” He alerts you, and you pretend to not care.

“It’s nothing important.” You say as you lean in and press your lips against his cheeks.

He shoves you away gently.

“Wait, what if it’s for me?”

“Nam—“

In no time, he let go of your hand and went on his knees to search for the resounding device.

The same cold Unknown flashed on the screen and you tongued at your cheek.

Namjoon stares at the phone for a while, biting the inside of his cheek in contemplation.

“I…I have to take this,” He stammers and it was all you needed.

You reach for his hand and held it calmly.

“Don’t,” You have no idea what you trying to tell him but you knew that he should never pick up.

“You looked so pained whenever you’re on that call…”

His hair reflected a streak of gold under the mini lamp and his features were so dangerously beautiful. He was still, in one way or another, a stranger to you but you were eager to learn about his world and dive into the deepness of his soul.

You could feel it—from the bus station, to the gas pumps and now by the beach with him—that he was so lost and broken, just the way you were.

You wanted to be the light to guide him out of this darkness but he always deemed it impossible by returning to the old ways.

“Then why are you here?” You take a step, decreasing the space between.

“Isn’t the purpose of this whole short escapade to renew and start afresh?”

You released a sigh, not navigating where exactly this was headed towards.

“It’s your life… It’s yours to decide.”

He doesn’t look at you, only thinking about it hard.

That is before he returns the phone to you and mumbles that he’ll head to bed first.

You rarely stopped yourself from asking questions when curiosity consumed you. But when it came to Namjoon however… you stay silent.

You did not want to intrude more than you should, but you also knew that Namjoon, the guy you’ve been crushing on since the start of the bus ride, would never open his mouth unless you asked him to.

Seeing Namjoon being so despondent reminded you of your situation with your family.

Thoughts about your parents, Jungkook, Namjoon…Namjoon.

The way he kissed you a few minutes ago soared you to heaven temporarily.

Was he ever this attracted to you as you were all along?

The more you think, the more things seemed bizarre and did not make any sense at all.

You wonder what sparked the sudden urge to pounce onto you like he did last night when he wouldn’t even spare you a proper glance on the bus.

You did not want this day to end on bad note.

If this was the first and last time with him, you wanted to make it worth while.

“So…you don’t mind cuddling, do you?”

The body beside you stirs awake.

Seems like you were not alone in failing to catch some sleep.

Namjoon doesn’t reply to that, only proceeding to finally wrap his arms firmly around you. You resist the squeak of excitement popping out of your chest as you feel his muscular chest press against your back. He hums in response, the low vibrations travelling down your spine and you fight back a shiver. Namjoon seemed too tired to say anything else.

You keep still, not wanting any small movement to disrupt his rest.

He falls asleep in two seconds while you carry on with your attempts.

You couldn’t sleep despite the fatigue rinsing you and draining your head of any sensibility.

Clamping your lids shut, you try to focus on the rhythm of your breathing instead to ease yourself into a slumber as well. This time, it twitches against your ass and you can no longer close one eye to the situation at hand.

Bucking your hips back into his, he involuntarily lets out a deep groan at the feeling. Whether he was still in his sleep or not, the noises Namjoon made sent your mind spiralling into a pool of lust.

His dick grows even harder, pushing against the material of your shorts.

“Namjoon,” You try to flip over to face him, but failing to do so as he steadies you in place.

“Namjoon,” You whine in protest, the feeling overwhelming and you have to do something about it.

The second call of his name stirs him slightly awake, hand accidentally sliding down the curve of your thigh and a shudder rumbles throughout your body as he touches the sensitive skin. He seems to get the reaction, doing it again, and this time skimming over the inside of your thigh. He’s doing this on purpose, to tease you to the end of your wits and you are not going to lie there and take it.

You swear you were about to throw yourself over and pin his cheeky hands down, but he beats you to it by a step. His lips ghosts over the shell of your ear, grip tightening on your thigh and you let loose completely.

“What is it that you want so badly,” His mouth travels to the exposed skin of your neck, tongue darting out to give you small licks. “That you keep waking me up?”

“W-Why do you have a boner?”

“It happens when I’m tired.”

“Oh,” You blinked, remembering the feel of it against your ass.

Long, thick and heavy. Throbbing, even. You couldn’t register the fact that you were salivating as he crashes his lips onto yours once more, savouring all of you.

“I want you to fuck me so good, Namjoon.”

He shoots his head up from the curve of your neck, expression laced with confused and shock.

“No pressure.” You blurt out to save yourself when he stares at you like you’ve made a bad joke.

“Say that again.”

He startles you by using his fingers to rub circles onto your clothed clit.

You let out a squeak when he applies more pressure onto the sensitive nub, drawling a moan to spill from your lips.

“What do you want?”

He’s getting impatient, shoving your panties to the side and sliding a finger inside of you.

You sighed and held onto his shoulders when he started pumping the digit in and out of your wetness.

“Can you fuck me please?” You look him in the eye as you say this, making him hiss and groan in satisfaction.

“Since you asked so nicely…”

His finger picks up a rapid pace, your juices smeared messily over his hand.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet already…”

He sticks his tongue out and you oblige by sucking on his wet muscle.

Shortly after, he replaces it with his soaked finger and you take the whole length of his finger into your mouth and swirled your tongue around it.

Namjoon feels more blood rush to his cock if that is even possible, because he is so hard, he doesn’t even know if he can feel his dick.

You slowly let your oversized shirt fall off your shoulders, sliding down to expose your breasts.

Namjoon rips the shirt apart instead and latches his mouth onto a hardened nipple.

He cups the other breast in one hand, passionately massaging it while his other hand runs up and down the slickness of your heat.

“Everything about you…Mmm—so perfect…” He hums and sucks on your breast.

You were going to explode.

He was touching you in so many places at once, his hard length brushing against your torso occasionally and his hands possessively roaming over every inch of your skin.

“Namjoon,” You whined out to him again, wanting more than just touching and kissing.

“Turn around,” He commands deeply and you hurry to his desired position, giving him a full view of your ass.

He slaps it on instinct, before coming up to rub the sting away.

Namjoon doesn’t give you a heads up before sliding his cock into you easily.

Screaming, he starts off rough like his kisses and you can’t help but feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

The pain was forced into pleasure as he continued to piston his hips into you relentlessly, the thickness stretching you out and filling you up so good.

As he slammed into you harder and harder, you felt like you were being used as a sex toy. Like he was only venting in the sex with you.

You hated it, but it still felt impossibly good and irresistible.

“Ah, god. You feel so fucking tight—argh!” He moans and you clench around him even more at the noise he made.

“N-Namjoon,” You repeated his name for as many times as you could, enjoying the way you can call him like that, in this manner.

Namjoon was close. He could feel it just by seeing you sprawled out naked for him, ass up and head smashed onto the pillow. The way your ass jiggled every time his hips smacked onto them, the pretty little noises you made with every thrust.

The way his name sounded falling from your lips.

He came inside of you, right after you climaxed with the help of the rubbing of your clit with your own fingers and the both you plopped down next to each other, beat from the sex.

Moments like these; him lying next to side half-naked and smiling away about nothing at all, and the small giggles that erupt from your lungs, the accidental light grazes of his hand over yours, his dimpled smile that rarely showed up.

When you wake up to the sun that glared fiercely through the nylon sheets of your temporary shelter, Namjoon was watching you.

Jumping back, you grab the blanket as a form of protection.

“What… are you doing here?!”

He looks down, trying to contain his laughter.

“Wait, where am I?”

The memories start running back to you piece by piece and you nod in realisation.

“Ah, right.”

Namjoon flashes the last of his full smile that is equivalent to the sun.

Moments like these, are short-lived.

“Y/N,” He says, tone somehow serious but casual.

“I’m leaving.”

You gather yourself and listen.

“Last night, was spectacular.” He tells you confidently. A shade of coral brushes over your cheeks.

“Not just…that, of course. I really enjoyed every second spent with you and I’m so glad you came into my life. Even if it was just for a night. Or day, whatever.”

Because nothing ever goes smoothly in life.

Even Alice had to leave Wonderland.

“I’m going to find her and get her back.”

Happiness was still something you were going to continue searching for, while Namjoon fights for his own.

“Oh,” It’s all you can reply, your head a pool of thoughts, words, feelings and emotions. But you wouldn’t voice them out. You couldn’t.

“Goodluck. I had a fun time as well.”

Even though you wished for more.

“I hope you’ll be heading wherever you need to be as well?”

Namjoon stretches his hand out and you slap it.

He was inserting all this platonic gestures to not make it feel weirder than it already is.

“Yeah. Will be on my way.”

You can already sense a Jungkook driving his way here to pick you up according to the summon of your father. While Namjoon will look for his lover and seek the clarification he needs.

In fact, the both of you will be on your separate ways now.

This, is where the true journey of a bus ride with him, ends.

It’s been exactly ten weeks since your strange encounter with Namjoon.

An encounter that consisted of almost everything an adventure had in store.

All of this is not a coincidence , you like to believe.

Every single time you were on a bus, you can’t help but wonder if Namjoon would magically pop out and turn your life downside up. Cause the butterflies in your stomach to form again. You want to know what he’s doing. If him and his girlfriend are well now.

Even as of right now, you can’t help but anticipate the next bus ride to happen, rejecting Jungkook’s offer for a ride.

At night, you cannot sleep without thinking about the moonlight that shines in his eyes.

The way your name falls from his lips.

His soft touches and gentle caresses.

His sweet and plump lips with his big hands on your hips.

As much as you’d like to forget, no one has ever brought you to close to euphoria before.

It was considerably the happiest moment in your stagnant life.

Being with Namjoon made you feel like achieved something great. The strong thumping of your heart, the words that flowed so smoothly out of your mouth, your jumbled thoughts coming together perfectly with him around.

It just felt so right.

A tap on your shoulder caused you to remove an ear bud.

“Excuse me, miss. Is this seat taken?”

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esoanem · 3 years

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VIII.

“I didn’t want to believe you could be capable of doing something like that. But I couldn’t convince myself that you weren’t“

Major Content Notes:

None!

Wikipedia Synopsis:

The hunt for the Urca de Lima begins when Silver divulges the schedule to Flint, taking them to the ship's location. Rackham stops paying Ms. Mapleton, which causes her to threaten to blackmail Rackham. She threatens to tell the locals what really happened to Mr. Noonan. Meanwhile, Vane makes his way back to New Providence with his new crew. Eleanor's situation changes when a small band of men take over Hornigold's fort and start sinking supply ships in the bay. Gates threatens to call off the attack of the Ranger, so Flint kills him. The final scenes of the season show that the Walrus has beached itself upon the same isle as the Urca de Lima.

This is the final episode of the season so quite a lot goes down, but for the first time I don’t think we’ve needed any major content notes. There is some blood & gore, and nudity at various points, but nothing especially graphic

Summary:

Rackham is docking Mrs Mapleton’s pay because of her skimming. She threatens to tell all the merchants that he murdered Mr Noonan, saying that they’ll band together and see Jack hanged for it. Jack calls this insubordination and fires her. As she reiterates her threat, Max arrives, and points out that the merchants are all enjoying steep discounts (affordable now the books are in order) right now and that because of that, they won’t much care what Mapleton has to say

At sea there is a terrible storm, with the Walrus and Ranger climbing waves as tall as their masts. Belowdecks, as the crew play music and card games, Dr Howell has made a peg leg for Randall and is trying to get Silver to convince him to wear it, saying that a crutch is too big a risk in this weather. Randall is reluctant. Silver tries to convince him by sarcastically pointing out how he’s helped Randall in the past, before throwing the peg leg to him, but Randall just tosses it to the floor and goes back to eating his apple

“Oh, Mr Silver, how can I ever thank you? First you save me from ending up as a stain on the Walrus’s underside, then you secured my position on the crew on the verge of an historic haul, and if that weren’t enough, you’re still trying to find something comfortable to put at the end of my stump. From the bottom of my heart, thank you“

Two crewmen come down from the deck saying that a launch from the Ranger has arrived with Captain Gates. Logan wonders “what could be so fucking important that he has to row through all that shit out there for it”. Silver hears this and hurries to Flint’s cabin

He sits down, and Flint pushes an inkwell over to him saying they’ll make landfall in the morning and need the last part of the schedule. Flint compares what Silver writes out to a book of his own reconnaissance, of bays and inlets in the right area that could reasonably be used for the Urca to take on water. Flint tells Silver to take the information to de Groot and set a course for Division Bay. As Gates says he better get back to the Ranger, Flint says it’d be better not to tempt fate and pulls a bottle up

“Talbot Rhodes’ private stock. I’d been waiting for an occasion. My reckoning is, tomorrow we’ll be able to afford a lot more of it or -”

“- we’ll be too dead to care”

Mr Scott comes into Eleanor’s office to tell her that Captain Lawrence is almost ready to leave. She is worried by the storm, calling it a ship-killer and wondering if God is on Mr Scott’s side in opposing this plan. Mr Scott reassures her, saying that the trouble might have happened anyway, with or without the schedule

“Tomorrow, a thing that you conceived out of thin air becomes real. A thing that will give this place a chance to find some small measure of peace. That is not nothing”

Back on the Walrus, Gates & Flint are finishing the bottle, and reminiscing about the man who found it, Mr Cregg, the carpenter’s mate who could sniff out booze on a prize ship like a bloodhound. Flint tells a story of one time he found a bottle hidden behind a baseboard on a prize and, thinking it was the captain’s best booze he took a big swig in front of everyone, only to realise it was piss. Gates is trying to seem friendly, but in cutaways he seems melancholy, mourning his lost friendship with Flint, whilst Flint seems to be acting as if nothing has happened between them. Gates remembers that he brought Cregg over with him, having both served under Avery together as kids, before getting up to leave, a tear in his eye

"For years, he went on how he’d got this huge stash hidden away, and I should live to survive him because one day, I will be a rich man. As you know, we lost him on the Pembroke.

So I open his locker and what do I find?

Twelve pesos, a busted pocket watch, and a letter with instructions to deliver it to his sister in New York.

Lying sack of shit was Mr Cregg!

So I bought the boys a round with the pesos, traded the pocket watch for a bit of tail, and spent two weeks that winter in New York, trying to deliver that fucking letter to his sister. Looked high and low, never found her. So on the way home, I waited until we were in open water and I could see no land in any direction and I dropped it over the side. Return to the sea.

There are no legacies in this life, are there? No monuments, no history. Just the water. It pays us, and then it claims us, swallows us whole as if we’d never been here at all”

Anne bursts in on Jack whilst he’s taking a bath. She yells at Jack for cutting Mapleton loose without telling her, saying she could tell the entire island about them killing Noonan. She then says the fact he’s keeping council with Max is bothering her even more, and accuses Jack of fucking her

"Jesus H Christ I can’t win with you. She’s in the camp with the men and it’s ‘come on Jack, let’s go kill everyone see if we can’t get around there, hope you don’t mind, made that decision on your behalf’ and now she’s out making us a small fortune by the way and you’re pissed off about that too, might you consider making up your fucking mind about her, please!”

After telling him to fuck himself she leaves, and sees Max standing by a mirror naked, drying her hair. Anne looks bashful, and hurries downstairs as Max turns around and puts on a dressing gown smiling

Vane arrives at Nassau with a few rowing boats full of the men from the lumber camp. They row past a series of lobster pots before beaching the boats and stepping ashore

The Walrus & Ranger are sailing along the coast flying Spanish colours, Division Bay is just past the next headland. Flint gives a brief speech to the crew, before ordering full sails for their final approach

“Llisten here! When we clear the point ahead and spot the Urca at anchor, we’ll begin our final run at her. The Spanish banner may earn us a few hundred yards of confusion before the captain identifies us and opens fire so we’ll close fast on her, hammer her well with our guns, and then take the fight to her decks. That fight will be the fight of our lives make no mistake. But on the other side lies paradise!”

As they round the point though, there is no ship to be seen. The entire crew, including Flint are dumbfounded, and after asking de Groot if he’s sure of their position, Flint storms into his cabin leaving the crew bemused on deck

Eleanor meets Naft, Frasier, & Lawrence at the end of the pier, where she hands Lawrence two manifests, one true, one false, and a substantial purse and wallet for bribery. Lawrence is impatient and wants to leave. As Eleanor comes off the pier she is met by Hornigold & Scott. She tells them that she still needs to remove her father entirely, that she knows he’s on the Underhill estate scheming to undo everything they’ve done. Hornigold reacts in disbelief

“You’re truly amazing, in the moment when stability is at hand and the world is at your feet, your first instinct is to go out in search of someone new to fight”

Scott asks for a moment with her but is interrupted by cannonfire, the shot landing near Hornigold’s ship. After a couple more shots, they realise the cannons being fired are from the fort. Hornigold realises someone other than his men must be in the fort and, as we see a mast break Scott says they need to get off the beach. As they march towards the tavern, Jack comes out of the brothel to ask what’s going on, when he’s told that someone’s taken over the fort he looks over at Anne who swallows anxiously

Gates comes aboard the Walrus and is led to Flint by Dufresne who tells them that the crew have agreed to Flint’s plan. They will land the Walrus and then he has two days to send out scouts to find the Urca. Flint gives the order and heads into his cabin. Dufresne tells Gates that de Groot is bitter that they didn’t listen to him about the cook, that he says there’s no Urca out here, that justice has been delayed long enough, he wants Flint tried immediately, and he believes that for all his talk Gates is just protecting Flint

“I’m protecting all of us! These men are right on the edge, and he wants to rile them up more by talking about a lying thieving captain, then stand on a deserted beach and talk about elections? Before you know it, half a dozen men will have laid claim to the captaincy, council will divide. it won’t be dark yet before the fighting starts

We’ve got to see Flint pay for his crimes, but we’ll do it at home, and we’ll do it like civilised men and that’s how we avoid the abyss!”

Dufresne asks how they can trust Gates, as they know the two of them spent the last night together drinking. Gates hands him a letter asking if it’s good enough, which Dufresne reads and seems surprised by

Sails are spotted, a Spanish man-o-war, and it will be on them in half an hour. Flint signals the Ranger to raise the black and fire two shots off the Walrus’s bow, as well as rigging a spring to the foreward anchor and dropping her immediately. Below you can see, the main anchor cable connected to the bow of the ship running straight up, with a second line, the (slightly slack) spring tied onto this and connected to the stern. By tightening the spring, he can pull the stern out to windward, and turn the ship without moving

De Groot is astounded that Flint means to fight the man-o-war, but Gates shouts to the crew that they have their orders before dragging Flint into his cabin. Dufresne and de Groot share their concerns

"If he engages that ship in battle, we’re dead!”

"I know”

"I know you know, but does Mr Gates?”

Gates tells Flint he can’t let him go down this road. Flint ignores this and explains his plan to Gates, the man-o-war will see them as a Spanish merchantman under attack by pirates, the Spaniard will pass them by to give chase and, before she realises her error they’ll turn and have her trapped, the Walrus raking her stern to bow, and the Ranger raking her bow to stern, and that the warship shows that the Urca is here after all

"all I see is an empty bay, a gardacosta warship, and a captain that’s lost his fucking grip on reality!”

Flint says that the ship isn’t a gardacosta (coastguard) here on patrol, that the only explanation for it being here at this time is that it’s an escort. Gates points out that the entire justification for the venture was that the Urca would have no escort. Flint suggests that they changed their plans, at which point Gates says he’s leaving with the Ranger, leaving Flint dumbstruck in disbelief. They hash it out, furious at each other

“What did you just say?”

“I’m going to weigh anchor, I’m going to make a run for it, and if I can keep ahead of her before dark there’s just a chance we could slip away”

"Without the ranger, I have no chance against that ship”

"I know”

"So you’re deliberately challenging my authority here? Deliberately violating you duty?”

"My duty? My duty is to them, not to you! Although I have violated it more times than I can remember in your defence. Helped you deceive good men, who put their trust in me because I was convinced they would be better off for it! But not here! Not this! This is fucking madness!”

"Mr Gates, if you walk through that door with the intent of subverting my plans, I will have no alternative but to interpret that as an incitement of mutiny”

"You think I’m inciting mutiny?

"You are inciting mutiny!”

"I’m managing one! There are men out there right now that know about Singleton, the book, the cook, all of it! They know! And they mean to see you hang for it!”

Flint goes quiet, asking if Gates told them

"After Billy, I just, I didn’t want to believe you could be capable of doing something like that. But I couldn’t convince myself that you weren’t. That’s when I realised that this has got to end.”

"So what then? You preside over a trial that sees me hanged?”

“No. I’m going to go home. And I’m going to see you and Mrs Barlow secreted away before anybody knows you’re gone. You’re going to go to Boston. You’re going to take the pardon that she’s offered you and that is the last that you and I will ever see of each other”

Flint looks ashamed, and downcast, and begs Gates not to do this. Gates tells him to take a moment, that he’ll deal with the crew, and goes to leave. Flint looks up, and stares intently at the back of Gates’ head, his lip quivering into a snarl

He starts up, slams Gates into the door, and chokes him from behind, repeating “this is not what I wanted, I’m sorry” before snapping Gates’ neck. He repeats “I’m sorry” as his snarl softens and he starts crying, cradling the body of the closest thing he had to a friend

The door creaks open, Flint’s face immediately hardens again and he draws his pistol. It is Silver, saying he came to back Flint up in his case that the Urca can still be won. Flint drops his arm, looking exhausted. Silver comes in and hurriedly closes the door behind him, locking it, before checking Gates’ neck for anything incriminating. Flint bats his hands away, asking “what the fuck are you doing to him” before telling Silver to stop. Flint is utterly defeated, but Silver tells him there is still a way out

"There’s no way out of this”

"Take it from me. There’s always a way”

A letter is delivered to Hornigold and the rest of the consortium, saying that a small band on men were seen approaching the fort from the west that morning, but no-one could identify them, and all the local crews are accounted for. Mr Scott asks if the fort’s great guns could be repositioned to aim at the street. Hornigold’s only response is that he hopes whoever it is won’t be mad enough to consider that and proposes to retake the fort when he is interrupted by Vane & his men on the street outside demanding to speak to Eleanor

Flint steps out of his cabin and, looking Dufresne straight in the eyes tells him that Mr Gates’ heart gave out. He gives orders to signal the Ranger with the plan, telling Mr Thompson he’s in charge, to sail North and, when the Walrus fires on the target, to tack hard to port and join them. Dufresne barges past de Groot into the cabin. As he looks down at Gates’ body, Silver starts speaking

“The question you need to ask yourself is what good can I do.

You can call this murder, a number of the men might even believe you, but will that be enough to stop this fight that is about to happen?

Because if it’s not, a fight we might win becomes a battle we are doomed to lose because the men went into it infected with your suspicions, with your doubts.

So, Mr Quartermaster, is that truly what’s in their best interests?”

Dufresne steps out and walks straight past de Groot again, over to Flint.

"When the warship draws close, she’ll ask our last port of call. Saint Augustine is the closest and as she’s likely a customs ship, we must identify our cargo as anything but tobacco; Seville regulates the trade heavily”

Vane is Eleanor’s office, his boots up on her desk, rolling a cigar as she comes in, and sweeps his feet off asking what the fuck he did

"Spend enough time on an island, you begin to forget there’s a whole world out there. A world where the rules are different” he puts his feet back up and goes back to rolling his cigar “I went out there and found men who don’t know the rules here and who don’t much care to learn them. They helped me surprise Captain Hornigold’s men, we took his fort, and not once were any of them burdened with the though ‘what if this were to upset Eleanor Guthrie’”

He threatens to keep sinking ships, and maybe even sink the Walrus when she comes back with the Spanish gold, just out of spite. He says that because the fort controls the bay, Hornigold was her partner when he controlled the fort and so now, he should get to be her partner. He says being a tenant didn’t work out so well, and now he’d like a stake

He then describes the first time he saw her, when she was thirteen, and sneaking out despite Mr Scott’s rules. He says that despite her age she walked between the camps like she owned the place, completely fearless. He then suggests that all she really wants is to not have any men bossing her around, and that he has no intention of telling her what to do as long as he gets what he wants. She begrudgingly agrees, but promises that she will drive him out once he inevitably gets comfortable

“I know you. Better than your father, better than Scott, maybe better than anyone. You don’t give a shit about money, or respect, or the things you’ve built here. I think you’re just tired of fathers telling you what to do and so I’m offering you a life free from them. With me in that fort, you do as you like as long as it doesn’t cross me you’ll hear no complaints”

"You know I have no choice but to say yes. But before I do, know this: you’ll sit in that fort for a while, you’ll get comfortable, and that’s the day I’m going to push you and your men right into the fucking sea”

As Vane saunters out, he dismissively nods at Hornigold, calling him “Ben”. Eleanor tells him that Vane now has his seat on the consortium. She tells Hornigold that it’s no use him trying to take the fort, because she told Vane about the tunnels he’d have used to launch a surprise attack. She defends this as acting in everyone’s best interests and Hornigold leaves, promising that this won’t be the end of this

“You told me to keep emotion from clouding judgement, to act in everyone’s best interest. I believe that’s what I’m doing”

Vane enters the brothel and is met by a nervous Jack. He says that in some ways it had to come to this: him deciding if Jack lives or dies. We see Mapleton standing behind Vane’s men. Vane confronts him about killing Hamund and his men, and we see Jack speechless, and Anne wearing a frightened expression for pretty much the first time

“Hamund brings you out of bed, marches you down to the wrecks to look for a stash of stolen pearls and somehow only you and your dog make it back alive?”

“Quite a moment. Jack Rackham with nothing to say. Had I a shrewd quartermaster right now, he would tell me that I can’t let what you did stand, he would say that an offence like that demanded an example be made of both of you, the bloodier the better, but today I’m a little less worried about perception than I used to be. As long as I own that fort, it doesn’t really matter, so the street will know what you did, they will know that you betrayed your brothers for a woman. That story will spread far and wide, and you’ll never sail beneath the black again. You’ll sit in this place and rot with the rest of the whores. Something tells me that will sting worse than dying”

The man-o-war comes alongside the Walrus, and Silver shouts across, with Flint behind the rail next to him feeding him lines. He says that they were attacked by pirates, that their last port of call was Saint Augustine, and that they are carrying tobacco. De Groot questions Dufresne about this

"If I’m not mistaken, you told him to state us as anything but a tobacco trader did you not?”

"II did. He means to prove that ship is not gardacosta, that it’s here for the same reason we are. If that ship lets us pass, he will have both renewed the men’s lust for gold and their faith in his judgement”

“Time and again he gambles with our lives, that is when he’s not taking them in cold blood and once more his influence grows. We’re at his mercy with no way to challenge him”

The Spanish ship sails on and Flint orders all hands to quietly go to their stations, and to fire at 300 yards. The Walrus starts pulling on its spring line to bring the stern out slowly, so the Spanish ship thinks they’re just drifting. At 100 yards, he orders the gunports opened and sights down a gun saying “we only get one shot at this. If we miss, we die”

Just after 200 yards Dufresne pulls his pistol on Flint, accusing him of piratical crimes against his crew, that he murdered Singleton, Billy, & Gates, and that he planned to steal a portion of the treasure fleet for himself. Flint gives the order to fire, but the crew do not. Belowdecks, de Groot is taking Silver into the Surgeon’s cabin. Dufresne hands the letter to Logan saying it is a confession from Mr Gates of his knowledge of & complicity in Flint’s crimes, and Logan confirms that it is written in Gates’ hand

Flint continues to repeat the order to fire growing frustrated at the crew’s inaction, shouting that they’re going to lose the enemy and don’t have time for this. Eventually he strides down and grabs one of the slow matches used to fire the cannons and goes to light the touchhole firing the cannons, but is shot in the shoulder by Dufresne

Silver wrestles with de Groot, but is knocked to the ground. As de Groot readies his pistol, he is knocked out by Randall who has hit him on the head from behind with the peg leg. Flint is pressed against the side by a gunport watching the Spanish ship slip away when one of the Walrus’ cannons fires, taking him, and the entire crew by surprise. Silver looks out at them, saying that it had to be done. Flint tells Dufresne to fight

“There’s no running now. Fire, Mr Dufresne. Everything you’ve got. Don’t waste this moment”

Dufresne hesitates, and the Spaniard’s sternchasers fire, hitting the Walrus. At this, Dufresne and Flint both start shouting orders to hire, and the crew slip into battle. Both the Walrus and Ranger get some volleys in, scoring several hits and causing a small explosion and fire onboard the man-o-war

The man-o-war comes about, her gunports open, and she fires. The Spanish broadside tears into the Walrus sending yard arms crashing down, and gun carriages flying. We see the Ranger’s magazine explode, and more and more holes be shot into the Walrus. As Silver tries to help an injured man, crying out for the doctor, Flint is knocked into the water. Seeing people and debris continue to be sent flying from the Walrus, he stops treading water and allows himself to be dragged under by the weight of his clothes and equipment

Eleanor is on the bridge between the tavern and brothel and Max comes out to meet her halfway. Eleanor starts to apologise to Max, but she tells her not to, saying she was “standing between you and your dreams for this place, you did what you had to do” and Eleanor reminds her of her words, that Nassau is just sand and cannot love her back but Max pushes back

"Sand has its virtues. On sand nothing is fixed. Nothing is permanent. Fates change so quickly.

Yesterday Captain Hornigold was immovable from that fort and Captain Vane was a beggar, now look at them today.

Yesterday I was a whore of little consequence, easily dismissed, easily forgotten, today I am a madam with an income and allies, and a woman who has learned the most important of lessons, never let anyone stand between you and your ambitions. Thank you for teaching it to me”

Vane sits in the fort as we see Lawrence push off, Hornigold’s damaged ship still in the bay, and Hornigold and Scott look on. Eleanor watches in the shallows, teary-eyed over what her ambitions have lost her

Flint wakes up on a beach, topless, a bit of cloth pressed to his wound as a dressing. He sits up and we see Dufresne, Silver, several other pirates, and the Walrus next to them on the beach with several holes clean through her hull. Flint asks why he’s still alive and Dufresne tells him to get up. As Dufresne leads them over the island they’re wrecked on, Silver says he was certain about his information regarding the Urca

“Unfortunately, you & I failed to take into account the weather. The Urca de Lima wrecked at sea last night. Dashed by the storm”

As we peek over the brow of the hill and see the Urca broken in two on another beach, the Spanish sailors unloading her onto the beach with the man-o-war at anchor in the bay, Flint seems to regain his resolve

#black sails #black sails content notes

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journal-of-an-outlaw · 5 years

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The Price to be Paid

Hey gang!

This is my very first Tumblr fanfiction. I used to write waaaay back but it’s been awhile. Just finished my first playthrough of Red Dead Redemption 2 and of course needed to write something about my story with it.

Feel free to message me with feedback or thoughts, like I said it’s been a few years so I’ll post this to Ao3 after awhile. Please like and reblog only, no reposting.

Chapter 1

“See that one? Easy. Go nick his watch.”

You laughed and smiled over your shoulder at Abigail as you walked over towards the cart that had stopped from one of the nearby farms selling apples in the middle of town, red and bursting to be eaten. A man who was picking out which ones looked best out of the pile didn’t seem flustered by your sudden appearance which was good. It made the next part easier.

“Oof! Excuse me sir, I didn’t see you there. Are you okay? Oh, let me help wipe that off your shirt.”

Coffee bled a dark brown down the man’s white shirt as he hastily moved to grab something to stop the spread, and you were ready with your handkerchief. While he snatched it out of your hands, you removed his pocket watch without him knowing, the pressure of your hands on his torso masking the motion. The cold coffee had been sitting on the edge of the cart as if someone had forgotten it in their haste to leave for the center of town. He huffed and hawed and made a bigger fuss than you could have hoped for, but the nearby prying eyes only saw a silly girl who managed to spill coffee onto the boy buying apples.

You smiled one last time at him and batted your eyes then flounced down the street and around the alley to meet Abigail. She laughed and grabbed your shoulder while you showed her the watch; no engraving or photo slipped inside which made you relax at the fact it wasn’t overly sentimental.

“Now see, this here is exactly what you can pawn off. A good 8 dollars for this, plus whatever else you can grab adds up fast. Then maybe...a way out?” her eyes were kind as her mouth twisted into a coy smile.

You smiled back at Abigail. The past few months while she and her gang were in town you had grown close. She hadn’t divulged too much about the people she ran with and that you could understand. The world was dangerous and full of opportunities and you couldn’t judge her for the choices she had made to keep her and those she cared about safe. You had never really left the town you were raised in and your family was your ‘gang’, but their secrets would never haunt others that you choose to surround yourself with. You knew she had a man, maybe not a husband but someone she loved. And a son that she loved more than anything in the world. Although she’s never told you outright about him, you’ve seen her buy (or steal) little trinkets and toys that no grown man would want. That’s when Abigail taught you the same tricks. How to divert the attention of shop owners so your hands could dart into your pockets with stolen food, or how to nab items to pawn to build up your own funds when you bump into folks and cause a scene. You had been eyeing the mountains outside of town a lot more lately, and thinking how great of an escape you could make.

“Where would I even pawn these? Do I walk in with everything at once?” you asked her. She contemplated for a moment. “You don’t want to walk in with arm loads of stolen things, but a few here and there should be okay...maybe clerks will let you trade them for goods! Like for food or clothes and such. There’s a good pawn shop in Rhodes, but that’s a long ways from here in Blackwater.”

Your hometown, or at least the place you had been raised in, was hot, dry, and desert like most of the year. The people were kind and you liked being situated by the river. On particularly hot nights you would sneak out and sit by the slow and lazy moving water, imagining it was carrying you someplace new and far away, where no one would know you and you could start over. But you knew that idea was just that and there was no escaping. Small fantasies were all you had. Some nights you yearned for your life that began in Boston, but Blackwater was the only home you had ever known.

Abigail brought you back to the present with her hand on your arm. “Y/N, I might have to leave soon. I don’t want to but there are things I can’t change that are set in motion by the people I’m with. You’re...well I guess my friend and I wanted to let you know.” You laughed at her hesitation to call you a friend. Knowing her it isn’t an insult. If anything, she means it as a way to say she doesn’t get close to many people and has somehow chosen you.

“Abigail I appreciate you telling me, but I’ll see you again! I am not worried.” Sometimes your blind optimism got the better of you. Damn those novels that you got lost in. Few things brought you pleasure like the chapters of a book.

The two of you clasped hands and parted for the day as the sun set behind you. Slowly but surely you were building a collection of items that had been lifted off the residents of Blackwater and were going towards your future pawn trips. As much as you loved the town and its dusty, dirty humbleness there was a darkness that lived there.

You neared your house and felt your heart drop to your stomach as the parlor light flickered on meaning your mother was not home, but your father was. Dad had a mean drinking problem, and as the man in charge of some government organization had power which mixed terribly with his vanity. He wanted everyone to know that he and he alone was in charge.

Climbing up the steps quietly you hoped to sneak by. That damn fourth step gave you away, and you silently swore as your father barked for you to come back down.

“Y/N! Get down here. How dare you walk by and not say hello to your father?” You mumble an apology and kissed him on the cheek, the smugness in him as strong as the whiskey on his breath. As you turned to head to the kitchen for dinner he grabbed your elbow hard enough to make you wince. “Were you in town today,” he asked, but it was more of a statement than a question. He must have seen you, or heard about Abigail somehow. “Y-yes father, I spent the day in town. At the market, there was a wagon from a nearby farm…” you drifted off and tried to walk to the other room. Your father stood abruptly, but was distracted by your mother opening the kitchen door. She was a force of pure good and the only thing that could tame your father’s wild ways. Her face beamed and invited you both for dinner.

“How was town today, Y/N? The apples look delicious.” You mother winked at you and motioned to the three red apples sitting on the counter waiting to be baked into a pie for dessert. While in town you didn’t even notice her so she must have moved quietly. The roast chicken and potatoes were delicious and you couldn't eat fast enough. After dinner, your father went out to the back porch to smoke while your mother sat and played cards with you.

“Mother, why don’t we just leave?” you whispered. This was a conversation you had had many times in the past. “If we packed and left at midnight he couldn’t track us. We could go to the mountains, move west or even north again! A new city with no one following us and we could make a new life. Work in an art gallery or a farm or...just some place nice and safe. Where no one could hurt us.” The darting of your eyes was not missed by your mother who had never known about your father and how his rage manifested late at night. He always did have a knack for hitting you in places that no one else would ever see.

Her hand was soft as it wrapped around your own. You knew this fantasy would never happen but you always hoped someday she would finally agree.

“My dear, we musnt run away from those things that we fear. Fear only increases when we turn our backs to escape rather than face it head on.”

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

The next day in town you met up with Abigail again. You knew the time was coming for her to leave from the way she clung to you a little tighter and laughed more forced and often. It made you sad to think that this bright light in your life lately would just be gone due to...whatever it was that would drag her away. Loyalty and family all meant something to you of course. But it was still upsetting to think that this exciting time would soon be over.

“The last thing I’ll teach you as a thief is this. In order to pull off a good heist, you have to believe. With everything you have. A poor orphan left to die on the side of the road? Believe. Someone who just got robbed and needs a ride to town? Believe. Someone who isn’t being abused by a man somewhere in town? Believe.”

She stared you down hard during this last line. You flinched and moved to cover the bruise that had been exposed when you rolled your sleeves up from the heat. A soft expression met you when you looked up to her blue eyes.

“I...It’s nothing I promise.”

“And that, hon, is exactly what I was talking about. You have to believe. Make it out of this town, safe. Please. If not for me, maybe just for you.” You watery eyes meet hers and you realized that it’s obvious to everyone but you that leaving may just be your last hope to being happy. The only issue you have is leaving your mother behind with the monster that hides behind the eyes of your father. His rage wasn’t always there. Mother said as a child you lived happily in Boston just the three of you. It was supposed to be four, and that’s where the trouble began. When your brother was lost a few days after his birth your father couldn't stand it. The whiskey was his crutch, and it soon became more of a constant burden. Every day it seemed he stumbled in from work already drowning in the vile stuff. Even the thought of its scent brought you gagging now. Your mother says that’s the reason you had to leave the northern city and move to the nowhere town of Blackwater and start all over again. That drink and the havoc it caused.

While you had the time the two of you decided to celebrate. Sitting in the saloon you clinked your drinks and cheersed to seeing each other soon someday. Abigail loved hometown whiskey and your poison of choice was gin. Many drinks later and the two of you stumbled out to the main road, needing fresh air after leading the whole bar in a great rendition of a popular song. You swayed in the heat that met you outside of the doors. A huge commotion down by the water caused half the town out to come bursting out to the roads behind you. Galloping horses, screaming, and gunshots were all you could make out. Damn those drinks and whatever was in them! You couldn't see more than four feet in front of you, and everything beyond that was a big old blur.

“Y/N! We need to move. Now!” Abigail somehow sobered up and was in charge of the whole situation. “Get behind that building and pretend you don’t know me-” but her words were cut short by a man grabbing her arm and yanking her down the road.

“Abigail!! Hey! Let her go!” You chased, well, more like stumbled after, the pair and beat his arm with your fists. He released Abigail and grabbed your hands, shoving them down by your sides and forcing you to stare into his eyes.

“Now what in the hell are you doing?” You stare dumbstruck into his face thinking that you might have landed yourself right into one of your novels. Beautiful blue eyes searched your drunken face and you couldn’t even speak. His eyebrows pulled together and crows feet showed around the edges of his eyes, years of the open sun and road changing the landscape of his face. Stringing coherent thoughts together was a struggle when Abigail shoved the man. “Arthur! Let her go she’s my...she’s my friend.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, “Abigail I have to get you back to John-”

Three men raced around the street corner on horseback and shouted in your direction. “Those three! Stop them! They’re linked with them gangs from the riverboat!”

You swung around to face Arthur and Abigail. “What have you done. Your gang! What did you do!”

Arthur swore and grabbed you by your waist. “Abigail, get on that grey horse there. The bay is mine.” She nodded and took off down the road. You cursed and swung as hard as you could but it was no use, this man had you captive as he put you on the horse and followed Abigail. The lawmen were not too far behind and you heard the bullets they fired whisk by you and hit the buildings down the street. From the back of a horse you watched the faces of people you knew zip by faster and faster, and with them the memory of who you were confined to be quickly slipped away. What a strange turn of events in the past few months. Abigail had taught you how to pickpocket and thief your way hopefully to a new life, but instead of taking that route here one was riding you off on a horse. It scared you, but you couldn't look back.

A sharp and terrible pain grabbed you suddenly as a bullet met your left side below your ribs. Screaming, you almost fell off the horse but managed to clutch onto Arthur’s shirt with weak fingers. He turned around at the noise and seemed upset as his face filled with worry when looking at the blood spilling onto your shirt. The pain proved too much and the last thing you remember was landing on a hill of grass with dust swirling all around as the sound of pounding hooves raging your ears from all directions.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #fanfic #arthur morgan #abigail roberts #john marston #reader story #reader fanfic #the price to be paid #i don't know how to name anything #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x reader #female reader

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momo-de-avis · 5 years

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Do you have any writing tips for someone that is definitely not a writer but wants to be better at writing anyway? That might be too vague so I'll say this, I have a lot of trouble getting an idea that isn't either something really small that doesn't make a narrative or something gigantic and complicated that I dont have the will to take on. No middle sliders in my life.

You have an issue my boyfriend has, he has great ideas but either believes they’re just something too small for a long narrative or so long and complex he doesn’t know how to plot them.

I can’t tell you what the right way is, because everyone is different of course, but I think there’s two ways you can go about it to try and figure out which might help you best.

First of all, take notes on every idea you have. I’m serious. However small it seems, just write it down. Even if it’s something as trivial as ‘man eats an apple while staring at a tree’, whatever. I find that, when something really tiny like that pops into my head with that thing of ‘dang, I need to write this’ but it just seems way too trivial for me to care, it’s because of how I’m visualizing it. I’ll tell you this, this one time I was having a cup of coffee near the library after a break and I saw this woman in the gardens looking at a tree, and that’s what gripped me in that moment. It was really stupid, but the thing I saw was what made me explore that for some reason. I thought she looked sad, I don’t know why, it just looked really sad, and it looked like that sad woman just casually looked up at a cypress tree like she wanted to see something pretty on a shitty day. Later on, must have been years, I was trying to write a scene where a character was supposed to compose a text for school about why she mattered and the only thing that came to mind was that woman looking up at that tree. I’m telling you this because the littlest thing can really help. If you get that unexpected pang of ‘damn, this is cool’ or ‘wow, this is really pretty’, take the chance to write down the what and why at least. Because you never know!

Now, as for development, there’s two ways to go about it that might help you. You can explore the character-driven side of narrative, or the plot-driven. These are, I’ll be honest, two things I have a hard time distinguishing but I mostly follow character-driven.

Plot-driven stuff generally has people planning beforehand (hence why I suck at it lmao). Some people follow the 3 Act structure, or other ways to go about it with planning (this is a good place to check out a few). As the name says, the plot is the star. There is a narrative you want to develop. There’s a central plot with probably very little sub-plots, but that one plot is the main goal. Most likely, one protagonist or two, both with goals that they will achieve or not at the end.

Character-driven, though... the characters make the story. It’s really hard to explain, so I’ll explain how I do it. I essentially have to have the characters very well established. Who they are, psychologically. Once I know them, I let the story flow naturally.

This has helped me a lot because most of the times I have a premise, not a plot, and on my first draft (not even a first draft, more like preliminary exercise lmao), I just try that approach to try and understand who these characters are or what I want them to be, so that they can move the story. Eventually, what happens is I have the inciting incident settled, the lowpoint as well or just something in the middle that is a plot device, and the ending established, but as I progress, since I know the characters, new things emerge like, completely new conflicts and reactions that just occur to me as I progress. But this is my method, it’s how I work.

For me, personally, sitting down just TRYING to find a plot, or an extra for the already existing plot, is tiresome and it drains me. So I just go ahead and do something and see where it goes. I follow the character instead of the plot (ask stuff like “what would she do if a stranger bumped into her on the subway, what should do if she witnessed this or that, what would she say if someone asked her this and that”, and go from there).

Another thing is: find your voice. I mean mostly style. I find that most of the times people struggle with this because they are struggling with finding their style, because once you get your voice established it might become easier in developing your story. For example, I always loved bullshitting my way through stuff if it involves words lmao, and when it came to creating long stories, I had an issue with planning. I remember at school my teachers would have us write a detailed plan of our story before the actual story, and we were forced to turn them both in for grading, which fucking sucked, because I don’t plan.

Then I read Virginia Woolf and learned about this neat little thing called ‘stream of consciousness’ and thought, fuck you, 9th grade teacher. Stream of consciousness is essentially a style where the author focuses on one small detail, seemingly trivial, and then develops an entire fluid string of throughs that interconnect with each other however contrasting they are (why the sentence “Mrs. Dalloway thought she’d buy the flowers herself” is so remarkable, because for the WHOLE BOOK, Woolf debates about many things, seldom being flowers. Hell, one of my favourite short stories is her meditating on a fly that lands on a bowl of milk).

So what I learned with this was: bullshitting your way out of purple prose has an academic word for it! Great! This also validated a lot my lack of planning, meaning that every time I drivelled instead of following a step-by-step plot I was actually building something worth a damn, because that exercise of developing a string of thoughts that are born from one shitty thing is something that can happen inside a novel.

So you see, finding my style, in this case, helped me find my voice and it became very easy ever since to juggle my methods with my ideas. This is my experience, of course, and it’s worth what it’s worth, but this little thing is what helped me establish that, I might have an idea, but if I let it flow, it might grow into something.

Of course, there’s that last advice: read more, watch more TV shows and movies within the genre you’d like to explore, etc etc, but I think it always goes without saying.

And one more thing: no story, for me, is too small or too long. It has its own natural length. Sometimes, we have ideas that are naturally shorter. It just means they’re short stories, or novellas, or novelettes. When my boyfriend told me he had that same problem -- that he had ideas he just didn’t know how to develop into full books -- I told him: then they’re short stories. And that’s fantastic.

The thing is, being a writer isn’t like something immutable, you’re not the same always, you know, you’re not always in this place, with this style, writing about this thing. You keep changing, keep finding new voices, keep exploring new angles, just continuously growing, as with any other artistic field. So maybe right now, those might be short stories, but who knows in the future?

I was reading American Gods and Neil Gaiman apparently republished it a second time, a much longer version his former editor had told him to cut down, and at the beginning he quotes Stephen King on why he did it: cause there were small bits in it, sub-plots if you will, editors are keen on thinking they don’t add to the main plot, but they build the story as a whole, paint the colours needed for the setting, the ambience, the narrative outside the main plot, and both authors felt their concepts, their ideas, weren’t complete without them.

My first advice when someone has an idea is always this: write it down, however it is, with whatever you have. It might be one paragraph. It might be 400 pages. Whatever you have, it’s just a first draft, and the goal of a first draft is getting it down on paper, not turning it into the finished work. It’s the first step.

And if it’s gigantic? Make it gigantic. This is Miss Only Writes Gigantic Shit speaking. I mean monstrous. Especially first and second and even like, third and fourth draft (man I have a lot of drafts), it’s so brutally long I seriously have to take a step back and think “bitch, slow down”. Eventually, I chop down stuff. Scenes that don’t add anything, repeated stuff, scenes that establish what is already established -- just stuff that misses the eye.

Just to say, let the story have its natural rhythm in the beginning stages. Writing is like baking, as I say: you need to set it aside and let it settle for a while, and then when you come back to it with a clear head, you’ll be able to compose it better. Eventually, it drives you down misery road and actually have to do the dreadful thing of leaving stuff out -- it’s sad, I won’t deny, looking at this one character and saying “goodbye, you were a good one, but I have to put you into the Unused Character Pile, maybe one day you’ll find your light, but not today, and I’m so sorry, but where you are right now, you’re useless lmao”. It’s a step that comes eventually, but it’s not needed in the early stages.

But in the end, it all comes down to motivation, I think. So first and foremost, I would say... find your motivation to write whatever you have. You could read more into the genre you’re thinking of, or you could try and write small vignettes of the story you have in mind (just pick a scene and try writing it down, just to see). You could try a challenge of sorts, like picking up a concept, a word, a sentence, and try developing it. Create a habit too -- don’t mind that “write every day” stuff, do it whenever you feel like it, whenever you get that tingle of ‘damn I feel like writing’, just answer that call. And always believe in your ideas, and I say this because I find that a lot of lack of motivation comes from ‘my idea sucks’ or ‘it’s been done before’. Your ideas are yours alone, so explore them as much as you can.

I used to have a website saved that I lost and this is the closest thing to it I found, but try this out for like a first plot, or just to generally get an outline of your idea. It has HELPED ME TREMENDOUSLY when I have a new idea that just makes me think “Great! now what the fuck do I do with it?”

I hope this helped, anon!! And sweet, sweet writing, my friend!

#Anonymous

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andy-loves-corgis · 5 years

Text

All of The Lights - Ch 1 (TRR AU)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Basically everybody will, at some point, hook up with each other. but you know my endgame.

Rating: M (language)

Word count: ~2,700 Warning: Read the Prologue! Every chapter has TWO timelines, Before (about a year before the Prologue) and After (two years after the prologue), if you don’t pay attention to that you might get confused!

Chapter 1 - When It Rains

When it rains, you always find an escape, jus running away from all of the ones who love you

BEFORE

The pale sunlight hit the feet of his bed, but he was already awake, Drake Walker liked to wake up early, when just the humming of the workers in the palace were audible through the walls. His way to the kitchen was in quick steps, not paying attention to anything in his way, those walls had long become uninteresting to him.

The smell of baked goods hit him in a warm wave as he opened the door and was greeted by Eleanor, the palace chef, and the radiant face of his sister, Savannah.

“Good morning, brother!” she exclaimed making his eyebrows knit, Savannah hated waking up early.

“What’s making you so happy at this time in the morning?” he asked sitting with a thump beside her and reaching for a croissant.

“Well, Lady Madeleine invited me for the afternoon tea, and I wanted to finish my new dress to use it there.” She gave him a full-teeth smile.

Drake had lived 2/3 of his 21 years in the palace, and one of the first and toughest things he had learned was about having a seat on the table, he didn’t have one, neither did his 16-year-old sister, they didn’t have one when his father was the head of the Royal Guard, they didn’t have now that his father died protecting King Constantine.

“Why do you care? It’s Madeleine…” he rolled his eyes at her.

“Madeleine is the front runner in this social season and I’m sure she’ll be the next queen along with Prince Leo, so, networking baby!” she stood up still smiling, finishing her orange juice. “She’s the Queen Bee.”

Drake snorted.

“I really don’t care about this pettiness, but Riley is the Queen Bee here, and she invites you to do way more fun stuff.” It was time for Savannah to roll her eyes and pick an apple, turning on her heels. “And yes, I do say this because she’s my friend.”

The girl was halfway through the door when she turned to her brother.

“You say it, because you’re in love with her!”

A piece of croissant hit the closed door, missing her by a second, if there was something his sister enjoyed more than freshly made eclairs, it was messing up with his and Riley’s friendship.

“Walker stop messing up my kitchen.” Eleanor scolded the boy who looked sheepishly at her before grabbing another croissant and leaving the kitchen.

The sky was cloudy, the blanched sun couldn’t be seen anymore, only the imposing grey clouds were above him. Drake started his work on the stables, checking on the horses, it was his last year studying vet in the Royal University of Cordonia, during his teenage years his dream was to become a Royal Guard like his father, there was until all he could have of his father was his tombstone and his signet ring with the royal guard’s crest.

He sighed, resuming checking on Athenna, the morning flowing through the strokes of his brush and scribbling on the horses’ files, by lunchtime his stomach growled so hard he almost missed his phone vibrating in his pocket.

It was Liam asking him about Riley.

“We argued obviously,” he heard the prince’s grunting on the other side of the line. “You know how she is, she just stormed out…”

“And you’re leaving to Lythikos?” Drake tried hard not to roll his eyes.

“My father has business there.” Liam said as if it excused anything.

“Will Olivia be there too?” it sounded way more accusatory than Drake meant.

“Maybe… Anyway, I just need to make sure Riley’s okay”

“Okay, I’ll try and find her before my afternoon class… Yeah, bye” Drake looked at his watch and ran to the kitchens, so he could at least be able to grab a sandwich, maybe two.

Even though it was the end of February, it wasn’t as cold as he thought it would be, after working all morning with the horses he welcomed the chilly breeze while stepping on the battered stone steps of the hill behind the palace.

As he hoped, she was there, sitting on the moist sand, her eyes far, far way, where the clouds kissed the dark blue water.

“Hey, you!” He greeted her, letting his body fall with a thump beside her.

A flush of chocolate locks flooded her face as she was startled by his presence, the long strands cascaded down her back and fell in front of her reddened eyes, she had been crying.

“You’ll give me a heart attack any day now, Drake.” She held her chest catching her breath.

He laughed and threw a paper bag to her.

“Brought you something to eat, so you won’t be crying to death because of Liam.”

“Fuck Liam” she muttered, opening the bag.

“Not my type” he smirked, opening his plain ham and cheese sandwich.

“My problems go further than Liam making excuses to go and fuck Olivia.”

Drake’s eyes widened for a second with her remark, but he decided not to fuel her fire, he finished his sandwich in three bites, watching her take tiny bites of hers. She gave up eating and threw him an envelope, he recognized the purple letters after Riley made him run through their whole website a few months back.

New York University

He knew that since she was a kid and saw the purple flags hanging from the buildings of Manhattan, she wanted to go there.

“It’s too heavy to be a rejection letter” he said.

“They want me” she said moving her eyes to her lap, a small smile playing on her lips, that made his chest swell with pride.

“I always knew they would. So, what’s the problem?” He asked, even though he already knew.

“Shall we start with Liam? Who said that if I didn’t want to be with him in the fall, then we should just end things. Or maybe my mother who called me a blood traitor for not wanting to study here?” Her eyes got filled with tears and she sniffed turning her face from him.

“Your dad?”

She gave a small chuckle, still looking away.

“That old bastard is the only one supporting anything I do”

“Do I need to remind you the hours you spent cockblocking me so I could be filling those forms with you?” He threw his napkin at her and her chuckle grew.

“I deserved your time more than that girl...” she turned to him and stick out her tongue.

He reached to her shoulder and pulled her closer to him, kissing the top of her head.

“Everything will be okay, York.”

They spent the next of his spare minutes looking at the ocean, its fierce waves washing the shore and crashing on the rocks, until Drake got up offering her his hand.

“Hey, I got to go now, don’t do anything stupid today okay?”

“What are considering stupid in this scenario?” She blinked those blue eyes at him.

“York...” his warning tone made her chuckle.

“Hey, don’t worry, there will be Maddie’s afternoon tea, then I’ll go out shopping with Kiara and we’ll probably get a few drinks at Mounir’s.” She patted his shoulder and got on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

Yep. He knew she would get in trouble. So why was he surprised to be woken up by her call at 3 am?

“What, York?” He grunted, there was a loud noise in the background, she was definitely at a club.

“DO YOU REMEMBER THIS SONG??” She shouted to the phone, she was definitely drunk.

“Riley, where are you?” He rubbed his eyes sitting on the bed.

“I DON’T KNOW BUT THE MUSIC IS GREAT.”

“Is Lars waiting for you?”

“NO. I’M WITH THE BENTLEY”

Shit.

“Send me your location. Now!” He was already up looking for his pants, thanking god that he was alone in his room that night.

She hung up without saying anything else, but a few seconds after he got a message with her location, in five minutes he was already getting an Uber to her location, knowing that she would get in trouble if he asked to any of the drivers or guards about what happened, the air was heavy and he knew it would pour at any moment, he just hoped his driver was fast enough.

Despite the hour, there were still people in line to enter.

“Hey, respect the line!” Someone yelled at him.

But Drake didn’t pay attention, just showing his father’s ID from the Guard’s to the security guy who let him enter without a second glance, Bastien would kill him if he knew about this stunt.

Clubs weren’t his scene at all, the loud music blasting from everywhere, making the floor tremble, but there she was near the bar, like the spotlight followed her in her simple black dress, arms thrown in the air, completely ignoring the guy next to her.

Drake got closer and saw as the guy got closer to her.

“Time’s up, Cinderella!” He got between her and the guy.

“Drake!” She gave him a full drunk smile. “Come on dance with me!”

“Nuh uh” he shook his head. “We’re leaving, give me the keys”

She pouted.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s almost 4 am and you owe me £15 for the Uber. Say bye to your friend.”

She scowled and waved to the perplexed guy sitting on the stool.

“Party pooper” she grunted.

He just rolled his eyes and led her out, where the rain was pouring mercilessly on the ground, the line now dissipated, he got shivers thinking about her driving that drunk in the rain. He saw her Bentley parked on the VIP spots a few feet from them an turned back to her.

“How can you not find your keys in that tiny purse of yours?”

She glared at him pulling her pink key chain from inside her clutch, when he reached for it, she pulled it back laughing, again he reached for it and she hid her hand on her back, in one step her has so close he could see those hazy blue eyes mocking him up close.

“If you don’t give me them, I’ll make you walk on the rain.” She blinked with those big fake lashes of her and grunted.

“You’re no fun”

He grabbed the fancy keys and ran on the rain to her car, bringing it to the stair where she wobbly walked down to the car.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Drake concentrated on the road and Riley fidgeting with her charms bracelet.

“Thank you for picking me up, Kiara just disappeared with some guy and Madeleine didn’t even wanted to come because of this stupid social season” she rambled, propping one foot on the dash.

“Don’t come to clubs with your car.” He scolded her. “You have a driver.”

“You’re funnier than Lars.” She bit her lip to suppress a smile.

“You just said I’m no fun” a smiled playing on his lips as she cracked a laugh.

“So, you can imagine how Lars is”

He chuckled at her remark, he knew he couldn’t stay mad at her, so he enjoyed that moment of laughter.

Until a bright light blinded him.

He remembered calling out her name and turning the wheel.

He remembered the sound of the metal shrieking.

Then, all was black.

***

AFTER

Drake woke up in a jolt covered in sweat, feeling betrayed by his subconsciousness for making him dream about her.

Maybe being in Valtoria caused it, as if she was a ghost haunting the place.

It has been two years since he walked on her hospital room to find her gone, he went for a coffee outside and in 30 minutes her mother got her dispatched to a facility in Switzerland.

Two year without a single word of her, of course he knew some things, she activated a new account on Instagram, of course Penelope would find that out and share with everyone, it took one ‘like’ from Kiara for the account to be shut down, but he learned about a trip to Thailand to teach English to the locals and, surprisingly, a job as a waitress in New York.

Then more silence.

If she didn’t want to be found, he chose to not be the one to look out for her.

The sun was about to rise, and he tried not to think about the countless time they watched it on her state, weather it was as drinking buddies or tangled naked in each other’s arms.

His loud exhale resounded through his room and he was happy to have slept on the staff wing, so he wouldn’t have to run to her mother, an ever so unpleasant encounter.

He didn’t know why he felt so moody today, maybe it was that enveloping and dense heat that anticipated a storm. Coffee in hand, he sat on the steps that led to the east garden of the estate, where he could see the menacing grey clouds gather in the horizon.

The feeling of fur rubbing on his arms startled Drake, if there was something that could make his melancholy go, was that damned corgi.

“Hey Chance!” the dog wiggled his but to him.

Chance was the only companion that could make Drake smile on the first few months after Riley’s departure, at least the dog was something her mother was happy to give to him, he has been Drake’s companion ever since.

Finishing his coffee, he calmly walked to the stables, with chance at his feet, today he would be busy with the last preparations for the upcoming competition, revising the documents, their files and taking care of the pregnant mare.

I was well past lunch when his phone rang, and he couldn’t help the smirk as he saw the caller.

“Hey, Cas”

“Hey! How are you?” her cheerful voice filled his ears. “Has Lady Bitch been a bitch already?”

“I’m fine, haven’t seen her since I got here, she’s probably at Fydelia. How about you?”

“Oh, nothing special… Will you be back soon?” he knew she was eager for an answer, but Cassidy had set her mind on taking things very slow with him, his fame certainly preceded him.

“Two more days, are you missing me already?” he smiled to himself knowing she would be blushing on the other side of the line.

“You think so highly of yourself, don’t you?” she chuckled. “Oh, I almost forgot, Larry said we could at the bar in a few weeks.”

“Great, now we can show the things we’ve been working on.” Drake threw his body back on his chair and added in a lower voice. “Can’t wait to be back rehearsing.”

“I’m hanging up now, Drake Walker” embarrassment present in her tone. “Drive safely back.”

“I will, see you in two days.”

Drake threw his phone on the desk and tapped his fingers on the table, the thunders roaring closer and closer now. Cassidy was good to him, the lightness and simplicity that his life never had, he wouldn’t let a ghost ruin it, Riley was now just a memory locked inside of him.

When the thick droplets started to punch the wood outside the barn, he decided to bury himself in work, in two days he would be out of Valtoria and his head would be back to normal. The rain was so loud outside he could hear Chance whimpering on the first floor, but he didn’t answer when Drake called.

His phone rang again, now it was Liam, but the rain was making it almost impossible for him to hear.

“Liam the signal is shit, I can’t hear a thing… no, I didn’t have time to scroll twitter, brother, I’m not the heir to the throne… what? Liam, man, I can barely hear a thing, who’s back?”

The he heard the squeak of the wood steps to the second floor.

“Drake can you hear me? I’m talking about her” he heard Liam through the phone, but he couldn’t quite figure his works.

Because he was facing a ghost.

There on the second step of the staircase, wearing faded jeans, a pair of sneakers and a hooded denim jacket; there with shoulder length damped chocolate hair and electric blue eyes; there stood Riley York.

***

Tagging: @drakewalkerrosenberg; @agent-bossypants; @sleepwalkingelite; @silviasutton1989; @pug-bitch; @rtinaz; @ooo-barff-ooo; @likethetailofacomet; @notoriouscs; @mind-reader1; @annekebbphotography; @walkerismychoice; @tmarie82; @blackwidow2721; @thequeenchoices; @missameliep; @jovialyouthmusic; @perksof-everything; @choicesmacmakes @carabeth, @drakenazario; @drakesensworld; @moneyfordiamonds; @lynne1993; @ilovedrakewalker23, @choicesmacmakes.

#drake x mc #drake walker #Riley York #the royal romance fanfic #trr fanfic #the royal romance #choices fanfiction #choices drake #trr

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