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dannypuro · 4 years ago

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Hi! In the last chapter and the 'Combeferre finds out that the idiots got their act together' bit you wrote recently, you mention that Combeferre picks Enjy up when hugging. First of all, that it adorable and I love it. Secondly, what was Enjy's reaction the first time that he did that? Also 'ferre repeatedly bullying bakers to make strawberry cakes for Enjy is perfect. Overall, something telling is awesome! Thank you so much for writing it!

(Hello! This is Something Telling verse (aka time-zapped, 1830s Enjolras, modern-era), and takes place somewhere between chapters 6 and 7. this ask has been sitting in my inbox for months, but i..... forgot that i had the draft sitting in my documents 😬. oops. anyways, thank you for sending it!!!!! here is the first Big Hug and best friends time. also.... exr pining, because it’s something telling and that’s the way it goes. but my asks are always open!!!! i accept all forms of questions and prompts!!!!!!)

“Combeferre’s coming back home tomorrow.”

Enjolras looks up from his book. He would not truly say that he had been reading it, per se, not since Grantaire returned from a morning of boxing with Bahorel in naught but a- a tank top, Enjolras believes he had called it, but the name of it is, in his opinion, much less significant than the way in which it clings to his back with lingering sweat, the way in which he can see the edge of his collarbone, the curve of his shoulders, the way-

Well. He had certainly been looking at his book. For the most part.

He clears his throat. “Pardon?” He manages.

Grantaire, thank the Lord, does not seem to notice his momentary… distraction. He sets his phone down. “Combeferre’s gonna be back from Morocco tomorrow. Joly says his flight comes in at four.”

Enjolras does what he can to parse that--even still, after weeks in this time, he cannot shake the semblance of strangeness, of unfamiliarity, that coats the words of everyone he meets. Even Grantaire, especially Grantaire, sounds, at times, as though he is speaking an unfamiliar tongue. (He wishes--God above, he wishes--to know it as he knows his own. To know Grantaire’s words, to know Grantaire, without the boundary of concentration required, without having to ask questions that must sound hopelessly stupid to everyone else in the world. To Grantaire. But-) “His… flight?”

Granaire grimaces. Enjolras nearly wishes that he had not asked at all, aside from the fact that he does not understand. “Um. Okay. So.” He looks about himself, swears. Enjolras fights the urge to shrink in on himself, to tell Grantaire that it does not matter, to bury his nose back in his book. Only, then Grantaire sits down beside him upon the sofa, so. Perhaps he will not withdraw his question. “Um. Wait. Okay.” He draws in a breath. “Fuck.”

He flushes hot. “You need not explain if it is troublesome,” he mutters.

Grantaire swears again. Enjolras fidgets with a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. “Um. So like. You know a boat?”

“A boat.” Surely, Grantaire is not asking if-

He nods, eyes wide and genuine and- and fucking caring. His shoulders are rather close to Enjolras’s own. He is still wearing no sleeves.

He forces himself to breathe in, then out. “Yes,” he says, “I know of boats.” He does what he can to keep the ice from his tone--he cannot say for sure whether or not he succeeds.

Grantaire winces. “Oh. Yeah. Fuck. Obviously, sorry, I- Anyways, it’s like a boat that’s in the sky?”

Enjolras clears his throat. “You have lost me,” he admits. He does not feel guilty for doing so, for he is fairly certain that the fault does not fall upon him, in this rare instance.

He scrubs a hand over his face. “Okay. Um. Picture, like, a giant metal tube?” That means nothing. Enjolras nods, anyways. “RIght, and then imagine that, like, a bunch of people go into it and then it flies to somewhere else in the world really, really fast. And then you get out of the tube.”

And-

Ah. Of course. Grantaire is making some sort of joke, some mockery at Enjolras’s expense. He scowls. “I do not appreciate it when you make light of the fact that I do not understand your time, Grantaire. You know this.”

Grantaire sputters. He looks- not guilty, not truly, but regretful enough that Enjolras cannot help but to regret a bit of the harshness in his words.

He sighs. “It is not- It is fine. Only- I haven’t really any other way to learn these things, but to ask you, and so I do not-” He shakes his head. “It is fine.”

“No!” It is sudden, just a mite louder than Enjolras had been expecting--he startles, despite his efforts. Grantaire curses, then curses again, but softer, and then says, “Enj, no, I wouldn’t, I’m not, just-” he fumbles for his phone, prods at it for a few moments, then holds it out to Enjolras. “I wouldn’t,” he says, again.

Enjolras squints down at the phone. The glass is illuminated, showing- Well, it does seem to be a large tube, as Grantaire had said, but he still does not-

The vessel in the video lifts off of the ground. He turns to Grantaire with a start. “There- There are people within?”

He nods. “It’s a plane. An airplane. Lots of people take them.”

Enjolras feels rather as though he is going to be ill. He cannot tear his eyes from the phone. “And Combeferre shall be… inside of one? As it flies?” His hands have taken to shaking; try as he might, he cannot seem to still them. He hands the phone back to Grantaire, instead, presses his palms to the cushions of the sofa.

Grantaire nods again, and keeps talking, but Enjolras cannot- he cannot quite manage to pay mind to what he says, for-

Oh, but he does not fancy that idea at all, of a man being- being propelled through the air, as such. Particularly if the man in question is Combeferre, for Enjolras has only just met him, has only just managed to befriend him, and Combeferre is terribly kind and frightfully intelligent and funny in a way that makes Courfeyrac groan but that Enjolras quite likes, actually, and-

“Enjolras?”

“I-” his voice cracks; he tries again. “I feel I must voice my concern.”

Grantaire pauses, frowns. Enjolras feels somewhat as though he has said something foolish--but then, he often feels such, and this is too important for him to rescind, even if Grantaire does think him a fool, and- “Because of the plane?”

He nods. “I only think that-” he swallows, starts again. “It only seems as though it would be rather- rather hazardous, would it not be simpler for him to travel by ship? Surely- Surely there is much less risk of-” he breaks off, manages a jerky shrug.

There is a pause.

“Oh,” Grantaire says, soft.

He shrugs again, though he is fairly certain that it is not particularly convincing.

Grantaire is looking at him… oddly. Something squirms beneath his skin. “I mean- Enjolras, hey, he’ll be okay,” he says, but-

“You cannot know that,” Enjolras snaps, and he regrets it, as soon as he has, but he cannot seem to make himself stop, just yet, either. “I was not aware that you were an expert in- in aired plains.”

Annoyingly, relievingly, predictably, Grantaire does not even flinch, he just looks a little sadder. Damn it all. (He also presses a little closer, his arm bared against Enjolras’s own, damn it, damn it.) “People fly all the time,” he reasons.

“Foolish people,” he spits out. “Fools and- and geese, only, would elect to do such a thing.” He is being ridiculous, he knows it, but oh, he does not like this one bit, not at all. “Men are not pigeons.”

“Men aren’t fish, either,” Grantaire jostles him, gently. Enjolras fights the urge to lean into it. “We still have boats, though, dude. Continual progress, and all that?”

“And yet, if a boat sinks, its passengers do not find themselves plummeting to the earth, dude.”

Grantaire snorts a laugh.

“I do not find it humorous, Grantaire!”

“Sorry.” Grantaire draws in a breath, scrubs a hand over his face. “Sorry, yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

He huffs.

Grantaire hesitates, and then settles an arm about his shoulders. As though Enjolras would ever deny him that--as though he could ever quell that selfish, poorly-hidden bit inside of him that relishes in the warmth, the closeness, the impropriety of the act. “Want me to call him?” he offers, and again, Enjolras is selfish, and he nearly-

Nearly agrees, nearly jumps on the offer like he knows he shouldn’t, for he- he misses Combeferre, and he does not like the idea of him hurtling about through the sky, and yet-

“No,” he says, “You needn’t.” He swallows. “You needn’t bother Combeferre, when he is surely quite busy with his family. I would not wish to impose.” This is the polite thing to do, he reassures himself, Combeferre will be fine, and simply because he is one of Enjolras’s dearest friends does not mean that he does, or ought, hold similar ground in Combeferre’s heart, and it is fine.

It is fine.

Grantaire looks… sad, almost; it makes something ache deep beneath Enjolras’s ribs. “Enjolras-” he begins-

“It is fine.”

“Enj-”

Enjolras opens his book rather pointedly. Grantaire stops talking, but he doesn’t- he doesn’t actually remove his arm from Enjolras’s shoulders.

And.

Well.

Enjolras certainly shan’t be the one to remind him that it isn’t quite proper.

Enjolras is poor company the following morning, he is aware of this.

Being aware of it does not, however, quite mean that he is able to bring himself to do anything to correct his comportement. Rather, he leans his cheek upon his hand and picks at a whorl in the tabletop and does what he can not to flinch at the sound of a truck being unloaded outside the window, at the spray of grapeshot which fits so seamlessly into each echo that he cannot quite manage to convince himself that it is not real. (It was real, is real, in a way, but he cannot- he cannot think on that, not now, not when he already has so much to think on.)

Grantaire-

Grantaire is speaking to him, he realizes, from the kitchen, but he does not notice it until it is too late, until he can catch no more than “-up to you, really,” and then, because Enjolras has taken too long to speak, taken too long to parse what he would even be talking about, “Enjolras?” He pokes his head out of the doorway. (He is sleep-rumpled, soft, concerned.)

Damn it, damn it.

He clears his throat. “I apologize,” he manages. “I’m afraid that I was not quite listening.”

At times, he wishes- he wishes that Grantaire would just grow tired of him, of his horrid behavior, instead of being so endlessly kind; that, at least, Enjolras would know what to do with. (At times, Enjolras is so afraid that it will happen that he thinks he would give anything not to ever think of it again.) As it is, Grantaire frowns. “I just- I just wanted to know what you want for breakfast, I don’t- Enj, are you okay?”

Oh. He must look rather poorly. He had not, after all, gotten much sleep at all the night before; he supposes that he had been hoping that it would not show on his face. (It is a vain thought, as well, which is vaguely infuriating. Before he met Grantaire, he so rarely thought about things so inconsequential as exhaustion.) “You may cook what you choose. It matters not.”

Grantaire crosses his arms. His shirt is very thin.

Enjolras presses his wrists to the table to stop his hands from shaking as he glares back. It nearly works.

Grantaire, infuriatingly, says nothing.

He grits his teeth, then sighs. “I slept poorly. This is all.”

Grantaire pauses, at that. Enjolras takes a moment to wonder as to whether he has had any coffee, this morning--likely not. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. “This is about Combeferre,” he says, at last, once he has collected himself.

Damn it.

Enjolras should have elected to become enamored by somebody who is less perceptive.

Not that-

Not that he is enamored, of course.

He forces a quiet laugh, hopes that it is convincing enough to draw the furrow from Grantaire’s brow. It is not. “I- I am being foolish,” he admits, eventually. “As you said, Combeferre will be fine.” It does not sound particularly convincing, even from his own mouth. Especially from his own mouth. Part of him wishes that Grantaire would say it again, instead.

His hands are still shaking. Perhaps, he finds himself thinking, they will carry on this way forever; it is difficult to imagine that he could ever fire a rifle straight, anymore.

No matter.

Grantaire makes an odd noise at the back of his throat.

“It is fine,” Enjolras reminds him, for if he does not stop looking so very wretched Enjolras may- not cry, likely, but- but it stings, in any case. “I simply. Well. Combeferre is a good man, and I- Well. Ah. You see, he- He has told me that I am his friend, and I haven’t terribly many friends, aside from you, and I know that you trust these- these aired plains, but I cannot seem to bring myself to do so, and so I- I am simply rather anxious. It is nothing serious.” (Enjolras thinks of a young man, a boy, far younger than Combeferre, at his feet with his jaw shot off and his hand wrapped like a vise around his ankle, of blood soaking into the seams of his boots, of the spray of grapeshot against brick and against bone, and-)

Grantaire looks, if anything, more distressed than before. Heavens, but Enjolras is poor at this. “I should call Combeferre,” he says, resolutely. He fumbles for his phone. “Yeah, I should-”

“I would not have you do so.” It comes out just on the side of too sharp, but Grantaire does not startle, he simply winces, as though pained. “There is no need to disturb him by imposing, as such. So kindly do not.”

He returns his phone to his pocket. “Okay. Um.” He does not return to the kitchen; rather, he continues to linger, uncertain in a way in which Enjolras is not accustomed to seeing him. “Do you want anything for breakfast? Like, anything specific?”

And, well, in the spirit of absolute frankness, Enjolras does not--he is not particularly hungry at all, but-

But he is beginning to get to know Grantaire a little better, now, and he is beginning to guess that cookery means a bit more to him than it does to most others, and perhaps, perhaps, this is something that he needs to be able to do for Enjolras, right now.

Enjolras may be selfish, may be too cruel in ways that he cannot avoid, but he can give Grantaire this. He thinks on it, but he does not truly-

Ah.

Well, perhaps- Perhaps he is not completely without cravings. “Have we any more of the lamb sausage which you purchased at the market the other day?” he hazards.

Grantaire beams. (Enjolras’s heart flutters like a small, helpless bird.) “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, man, totally.”

He returns to the kitchen to make Enjolras breakfast. Enjolras tries very, very hard not to think of the way in which the soft, strong set to Combeferre’s jaw so resembles that of the boy whose hand he still feels around his ankle, before it got shot off. It nearly works.

It is not until mid-afternoon that he- that he truly cannot stand it, cannot calm his heart where it hammers out a stuttering rhythm in his chest; cannot still his hands from shaking, even for a moment; cannot bring himself to read, to write, to sit calmly; cannot manage to drive his mind from thoughts of fire and of life lost and of the sharp spray of grapeshot and of horrible, ridiculous contraptions plummeting to the earth, and-

“I would have you call Combeferre now, I believe,” he blurts out, when Grantaire has looked up from his phone to note him standing in the doorway of the parlor. “I- I believe that I- I cannot quite- I-” He forces himself to draw in a breath, but it catches in his lungs, freezes there- “I- that is, I-” He looks to Grantaire helplessly.

He had not been expecting for Grantaire’s face to drop, so. Or for him to curse, and scrub a hand over his face, and say, “Oh, Enj, I don’t-”

Enjolras does not understand what he has done wrong, but it- it is clearly something, but he does not-

Grantaire curses again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I should’ve- I should’ve told you earlier, but I can’t- Fuck. You can’t call somebody when they’re on an airplane, the call won’t go through. Everybody has to turn their phones off when they’re in the air, and Combeferre’s flight would have taken off an hour ago.”

He does not understand.

“So I… cannot call him,” he begins, for it is easier to start with something that he knows and work backwards, “That- Why?” It makes no sense. What is the use of such- such foolish devices, if one cannot even contact one’s friends when it is necessary?

Grantaire grimaces. “It’s something to do with the networks, I think? Like, the signal from the phone tower messes with the instruments and the navigation and shit. Or, like, maybe it’s too high up to get a signal, or something, but I don’t really know about…” He fades off.

Enjolras feels, oddly, as though he may cry.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire says, so softly that he does not know what to do with himself, and then Grantaire is on his feet in an instant, and Enjolras finds himself being pulled into an embrace that is warm and gut-wrenchingly close and better than anything he has ever deserved.

He draws in a deep, shuddering breath and lets Grantaire tug him in closer still, presses his nose to the curve of Grantaire’s neck and cannot even manage to think of the impropriety, not when Grantaire’s arms are so warm around his back, his shoulders.

He would apologize, but Grantaire always seems a little bit sadder, whenever he does so, so he figures that it would be rather counterintuitive, all things considered.

“He’s gonna be alright, you know,” Grantaire murmurs against his hair. “I know you don’t- I know I can’t really do anything to make you believe that, right now, but I promise he is. Planes are safer than cars.”

What a horrifying thought. Enjolras is quite glad that Grantaire cannot drive a car. He does not mention this; instead, he allows himself to wrap his arms around Grantaire in return, to clutch at the back of his shirt and be held closer still. “Okay,” he manages.

Grantaire hums; Enjolras can feel it, deep in his chest. “Wanna watch a documentary?”

“Okay,” says Enjolras, though he does not think that he can bear to do anything, aside from to stay here, like this, with Grantaire’s arm’s around him.

“Cool,” says Grantaire, but he does not move to let him go for a long, long time.

They watch a documentary.

Or. Well. Grantaire watches a documentary. Enjolras sits beside him and leans his head on his shoulder and does what he can to focus on the weight of his arm around his shoulders instead of the weight in his chest. It does very little to calm the way in which his heart races, but it serves, at the very least, as a distraction, as something by which he can mark the hours that slog by.

He would feel guilty for imposing, as such, were it not for the fact that Grantaire holds him so closely that it does not seem possible that it is for Enjolras’s benefit alone.

It helps, he thinks.

There is a crash outside, all metal and glass; there is the jolt of a carbine under his hand and the spray of gunshot against brick, against bone, and he is staring down the barrel of his rifle at a young man with soft features who is staring back at him down the barrel of a cannon, and he can feel the ticking of a pocket watch deep in his palm, and-

There is another sound, sharp and odd, and it takes Enjolras just an instant too long to realize that it has come from Grantaire’s phone. He startles; Grantaire, mystifyingly, takes the moment to run his fingers through Enjolras’s hair, as though gentling a particularly skittish horse, or perhaps a feral barn-cat. He would be rather insulted, he figures, were it not for the fact that it seems to still something frantic beneath his ribs.

“Combeferre’s flight just landed.” It is soft, blurred at the edges, as though Grantaire had been drifting off to sleep over the course of the moving. Perhaps he had--perhaps that would account for the way in which he had settled so comfortably against Enjolras. (Enjolras is not accustomed to people being comfortable around him; he finds he- he likes it. Particularly when it is Grantaire.)

He clears his throat. “Ah,” he says.

Grantaire hums.

“And- And all is well?” he hazards, and he- he does not even know how he would begin to ask more, what he would even say in a demand for more information, but he-

He-

“Huh?” Grantaire scrubs a hand over his face. (Enjolras becomes more convinced of the fact that he had been half-asleep, only moments before. His heart stutters, uneven, in his chest.) “Oh, yeah, dude, totally normal flight. Everything went fine.”

“Good.” He tries, then, to exhale, to relax, but cannot quite manage it. Damn this new constitution of his, damn that it never lets him fucking rest, damn that it does not ever leave him be. (Damn that he- that he seems to have lost, somewhere along the way, any shred of the dignity which he used to be able to hold so easily, damn it, damn it. He shall have to work on it, somehow. He shall have to, if he is to keep living alongside Grantaire, and if his heart is to continue to beat such a frantic pace in his chest at his touch.)

Grantaire opens his mouth to speak; Enjolras knows what he will say, what he will offer, before he says anything at all, and- and yes, he wants it, all of it, for he is selfish, and he wishes for Grantaire to call Combeferre, and for Grantaire to embrace him again, and for Combeferre to go out of his way to visit he and Grantaire’s apartment instead of returning to his own, and absolutely none of it is his to ask. “Do you want-” begins Grantaire, and Enjolras pulls himself to his feet despite his every impulse resisting to do so.

“I believe that I shall go read for a time in my own chambers,” he blurts out, before Grantaire can protest, and then he goes to do so.

He wants for Grantaire to follow him, too, to persuade him back to the sitting room, to call Combeferre anyways, but does not, of course he does not.

Damn it.

And then-

Enjolras makes it three more hours of his heart hammering away in his chest, of gritting his teeth against the feel of a hand on his ankle, of hearing flashes of grapeshot in the rumble of the vehicles below his window. It is a very admirable length of time, in his opinion; his hands have been shaking so hard throughout it that his forearms have taken to aching.

He ought to wait. He ought simply call on Combeferre tomorrow. There is no need for him to visit unannounced, particularly when he has been traveling, and when Grantaire has assured him that Combeferre has arrived safely, and when there is no reason for concern but for the fact that he seems to have thoroughly lost all sense of rationality, somewhere between the window and the cobblestone, back in June, and-

He sets his book down on the side-table and reaches for his jacket--he was not truly reading it; it is not truly cold. But he- he is frightened, and he is not used to this fucking century, with its- its aired plains, and its bared arms, and he understands none of it at all and he--he tugs on his shoes, does not bother to undo and retie the laces--he is tired, and he would like to see his friend, and-

“Hey, were you reading with the lights off, again?” Grantaire asks, hopelessly concerned, when Enjolras leaves his chambers--and it is jarring, sudden, and he is frozen in place in the hall, for a moment, as he runs the words over in his mind- “Wait, where are you-”

There is a knock at the door.

That-

That is odd.

On the sofa, Grantaire frowns. “Were you expecting-”

Enjolras shakes his head.

“Weird,” says Grantaire.

It is weird. Enjolras goes to answer the door, unlocks it, and-

“Hi,” says Combeferre, who is beaming and who is there, in the doorway, and who is fine, and safe, and-

“Hello,” says Enjolras, and he finds himself unable to keep the sheer relief from his voice, nor a watery smile from rising to his cheeks, and then he is being pulled into an embrace that is so tight his ribs ache.

“I missed you,” Combeferre says, presses against his temple, and then he finds himself being lifted off of the ground, feet dangling, as Combeferre holds him tight. He-

He has never been held, as such, before.

Enjolras’s heart stutters; he swallows down something thick in his throat. “I-” He swallows again.

Combeferre, then, seems to realize that he has been holding Enjolras some distance from the ground. He sets him down somewhat sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says, “I wasn’t-”

“I have missed you as well,” he blurts out, somewhat too loud, somewhat too brusque. He fidgets with the hem of his jacket, fingers twitching. “Very much so, I-” He looks to Combeferre, wills him to- to understand, to-

Combeferre pulls him into another embrace, and Enjolras presses his face to his shoulder and holds him in return.

“How fares your family?” He asks, after a long moment.

Combeferre musses his hair as he lets him go. “Good. Numerous. I’ll show you a picture of my sister’s kid, she just started walking, and it’s- Actually, have you eaten? My mom made me take some pastilla back with me on the plane and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I brought it over here with me.”

He… He has not eaten, he realizes, and he shakes his head. Grantaire must not have wished to disturb him. Which- “Did Grantaire request you visit?”

Combeferre herds him into the kitchen. “No? Should he have?” He pulls a container made of square glass from his satchel; Enjolras fetches three plates, though he does not know if Grantaire has eaten. (He has not, most likely--he has come to realize that Grantaire tends to wait, now, tends not to cook unless it is for the both of them. He does not know what to think of that.)

He shrugs. “I was… concerned,” he admits. “Because of the aired plain. I thought that perhaps Grantaire informed you.”

He frowns. “No, I-” His eyes dip to look Enjolras over, then- “You were totally on your way out the door when I arrived, weren’t you?” It is not a question.

“It is not of your affairs,” he tries, “Perhaps I was simply on my way to the convenience store. You do not know.”

“You were.” Combeferre is no longer frowning. Instead, a grin has risen to his face; Enjolras has only this as warning before he grabs for him, pulls him into a rough embrace before Enjolras can evade his grasp. “You were, you missed me. Admit it.”

Enjolras feigns struggle, hides his own smile against Combeferre’s arm. “Leave me. Release me at once.”

“Admit it, admit you missed me.” Combeferre holds him tighter, musses his hair further. “Admit it and I’ll let you go.”

“Absolutely not,” Enjolras says. He struggles a bit more, though mostly only so that he is in a more comfortable position for Combeferre to continue to hold him close.

“You’ve done this to yourself,” says Combeferre. Enjolras simply rests his forehead against his shoulder and shuts his eyes. Only for a moment. They shall eat Combeferre’s mother’s pastilla in a moment. He can hear Grantaire watching television in the other room; Combeferre’s arms around him are warm and comforting. Just-

A moment.

#something telling #exr #les miserables #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #combeferre #les mis #exr fanfiction #enjoltaire fanfiction #writing #les miserables fanfiction #Anonymous

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bakubabes-tatakae · 4 years ago

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Always make sure to check here to see if your request is coming up ! I’m going to update this as often as possible and it will stay pinned to my blog as well. 😊I have a LOT of requests to get though and work a full time job and go to school full time so please have patience with me. 🥺 I’ll get these out as soon as I possibly can. ❤️ If they look like this it’s because they are done and in the queue.

Current Requests:

Inbox - 221

Drafts - 100

Naruto Headcanons

Can you write about kiba with an touch starved s/o? I bet he’s so cuddly and plus he is cuddly with akamaru too

Hi!!! Can I request a hc or imagine(either one is fine, whatever is easier☺️) on kiba with him proposing to his longtime girlfriend who trains dogs and is a high ranked ninja (forgive me, Idk the actual names it’s been so long since I’ve seen Naruto) . Like, I want FLUFF!!! Or, as fluffy as kiba gets🤣. Please and thank you!

Can I request a headcanon for Kakashi where his s/o slaps his ass out of nowhere and it turns into a spanking session for his s/o? 😂Can you write Kakashi with a big tiddy s/o? lol

Can you write hcs for Kakashi being assigned on a mission with his crush (he recently admitted to himself that he REALLY likes her) what would he think and how would he behave?

Can I have a Kakashi headcanon where his s/o decides to dye her hair silver like his hair and he sees it and is really mesmerized by it and starts kissing her because he thinks she looks really cute? 🤭

Hello 😊 Can I have a Kakashi headcanon where the reader is also a teacher and Team 7 noticed that Kakashi really likes her and they find out what the reader likes (e.g. flowers) and Kakashi gets them for her and asks her out? 🥰

Ok I read your hcs for Kakashi simping over his so (and they were GREAT) but how would he react to his so simping over him?? Could we get some hcs for this?? I think he would melt 🥴

Black Clover Headcanons

Ryha Headcanons for S/O that sneaks into his room.

A headcanon for Zora with a s/o who has a cum kink? Like she loves it when he cums on her face or her breasts or likes to lick it from his belly? 😬

A headcanon for Yuno when he becomes a magic knight he has to travel to Hage because the people are in danger and some guys want to kidnap the reader who is his childhood friend and Yuno saves her? 😊

Can I get a headcanon for Yami where he tries new things with bis s/o in bed like he blindfolds her and then takes a ice cube and caresses her body with it and it's just really hot? ✌🏻

Mirror sex hcs with Yami gave me life, could I request some for Fuegoleon

Can I request a headcanon for Yuno where his female childhood friend also becomes a magic knight and is in the same squad like him and he realizes he is in love with her since they were kids and is too shy to tell her and she just kisses him? 😊

Omg you write for Yuno 😭😭😭💕💕💕 Can I have a headcanon for him and a really silly and clumsy s/o and he always needs to prevent her from getting hurt and he thinks she's really cute and gives her forehead kisses? 😭💕

I don't feel comfortable with sending a nsfw request for Yuno because he's only 16😅😬 but can I get a fluffy headcanon for him being silly with his girlfriend and they have their first kiss? 😊

Hello ✌🏻 Can i have a headcanon where Yami gathers the black bulls together to discuss the next mission and Zora's s/o comes in late and Zora makes a snappy comment about it and his s/o says "Sorry, I had to finish masturbating" Zora gets jealous because she touched herself and he fucks her after the meeting? 🥵

Ok idk if you're comfortable with writing these (if not then you don't have to! It's just an idea💕) but how about a threesome headcanon with Yami x Zora x s/o? I mean yes, that poor s/o getting destroyed by not one but TWO rough and kinky men but I think this would be pretty hot 😪🤭

Attack On Titan Headcanons

Omg I have such a good idea (I gues...) I hope you will write it because I love your HC's 😭 Can I have a headcanon where Erwin goes into a bar with the vets and there is a female singer and Erwin is really mesmerized by her and after her performance he meets her outside and is really flirty and he asks her out? 🥰

Naruto Imagines/Scenarios

Tell Me What You Want || {NSFW} Obito x Reader

Post-Shippuden Obito x reader fluff or lemon

Teacher’s Apprentice || {NSFW} Madara x Reader

189 & 291 from prompt list 5 with Madara Uchiha

Don’t Be Gentle || {NSFW} Madara x Reader

Prompt 36 “don’t be gentle” with Madara Uchiha

Forbidden Soulmates || Kiba x Reader

One Shot i guess. Soulmate au with Kiba x shinobi reader from another village. But smth dark as i think in shinobi world if your soulmate is from another village (or mb even inside village) it is considered taboo. Like mission above feelings.

Growing Love || Kiba x Reader

Imagine an scenario where akamaru has a girlfriend and they have puppies and you’re al like 🥺 at them, and Kiba is just so awed at how you treat the puppies and he realizes he loves you, hope you can write this :)

The Clones || {NSFW} Kakashi x Reader

Ok but what about a threesome with kakashi and his clone? 👁👄👁

All You Had To Do Was Ask || {NSFW} Kakashi x Reader

I know everyone is a sucker for kakashi being dominant in bed but what about him being a lazy shit and letting his s/o being in control! 👀💦

Meeting Team 7 || Kakashi x Reader

Hi! I think I saw your requests open so I was thinking if you could do something where reader is Kakashi’s girlfriend/wife and invites team 7 over for dinner but Kakashi’s like ugh but inside he really enjoys it lol, and team 7 would love reader and Sakura is like obsessed with reader bc she’s so badass and asks her for training in front of kakashi and he gets a little bit jealous because they absolutely ADORE you. I hope you can do it and I’m sorry if it’s too specific💕

The Taunt || {NSFW} Neji x Reader

Hey!! Congrats on 1k!!! I would like to request a Neji hyuga one-shot for the 1k special! Prompt list choice 3 and number 4 please!!! Thank you!

The Scent || {NSFW} Kiba x Reader

One shot where Akamaru can start to recognize the sent of Kiba's s/o getting aroused. Maybe one time they're all out and Akamaru starts whining at the sent to let Kiba know and he takes his s/o somewhere secluded to fuck em. (Preferably male?? But gender neutral is cool too)

Pin Me To The Wall || {NSFW} Kiba x Reader

Hello darling! Can I please request some angry sex with Kiba? Maybe he and his girlfriend get into a fight and he just fucks her against the wall or something, and it's all rough and hot? asdfghjkl, I don't know. I'm horny for this man!

Double Trouble || {NSFW} Kiba x Reader x Kankuro

Could you write a fic where kiba and kankuro dp someone? Its okay if not!

Take The Reigns || {NSFW} Kiba x Reader

Hello lovely! Can I please request some smut with my baby Kiba? He let's his girlfriend ride him for the first time and he's completely blown away by her and just praises her a lot? Thank you so much ❤️

You’re Mine || {NSFW} Kiba x Reader

Hello 😀 Can I please have a Kiba one shot where he's been very busy with work so he hasn't been paying much attention to his girlfriend so she decides to be a brat and on a night out she flirts with another guy to piss Kiba off and that leads to extremely rough, possessive sex? Thank you so much. I love your writing

Adversary Love || {NSFW} Kakashi x Reader

Can I get a nsfw headcanon for Kakashi where the female reader was an enemy but is now a good person and Kakashi used to hate her but now he fell for her (she still thinks he hates her because he doesn't talk when she's around) and during a party he grabs her and sneaks away with her and they have sex? 🙂

Black Clover Imagines/Scenarios

The Haunted House || Mimosa x Reader

A haunted house visit with Mimosa Vermillion with her s/o that’s her boyfriend.

Pleasure At The Golden Dawn || {NSFW} Yuno x Reader

Yuno's s/o teasing him in a Golden Dawn meeting with Nsfw please

Falling For You || Zora x Reader

Would it be possible to request a SUPER FLUFFY one shot with Zora?? Maybe the writing prompt of “I think I might be falling in love with you” and a cute moment? I just really love that man 🥺

Into The Flames || {NSFW} Mereoleona x Reader

Smut for Mereoleona and s/o first time. In which s/o is a virgin.

Black Butler Imagines/Scenarios

Give Me A Chance || Sebastian x Reader

Request: Prompt “Give me a chance” with Sebastian Michaelis

BNHA Imagines/Scenarios

Quit Teasing || {NSFW} Bakugou x Reader

Request: Hey babe 😊 Can I get some Bakugou x reader NSFW? Bakugou and the reader have known each other since forever and he always finds ways to tease her (her height, her neediness...). One day they're making out and reader decides to tease him in bed as payback? Thank you!

Consternation || {NSFW} Dabi x Reader

Summary: When the LOV kidnaps the daughter of a wealthy business owner for the sake of her quirk the one person they never thought would grow attached was Dabi. So when Dabi develops feelings for the girl he now has hostage will he be able control himself when it comes to them using her quirk to their advantage?

Quarantined Love || Bakugou x Reader

Can i request bakugou being all soft with his s/o when they finally see each other after being apart because of quarantine? 🥰

Bleach Imagines/Scenarios

The Meet Up || {NSFW} Ichigo x Reader

Not Requested. Just struck by inspiration.

Please, Don’t Leave || Ichigo x Reader

Not Requested. Just struck by inspiration.

Durarara!! Imagines/Scenarios

First Times || {NSFW} Shizuo x Reader

Hey! Could you do a NSFW of Shizuo’s first time, from Durarara, with his S/O. they’ve been dating for a while now & have only ever done kissing.

Fake Text Scenarios

Can you do fake text with shika, kiba, kakashi etc of jealousy?

Naruto fake texts idea...you know the one picture of a melted cutting board in the oven and asking your mom how to fix it, but instead asking the Naruto boys how to fix it.

can i request fake text for the akatsuki? reader asks them to pick up pads/tampons. 😅😅😭😭

Pregnancy Prank: Ohhh ok 😎😎❤ Kakashi, Madara, Hashirama, Tobirama, Minato, Konohamaru (adult), Iruka, Orochimaru, Izuna 🤗 Ohhh I cannot wait 😂😂 Thanks so much

Can we have some text scenarios for Kiba, Kakashi, Naruto, Sasuke, Shika and Shino where they go out drinking with the boys and they drunk text their s/o about how much they love them? 😂💕

Sends Nudes: Hey 😁 Ok, then Madara, Hashirama, Orochimaru, Yamato, Minato, Konohamaru (adult), Iruka, Shino, Izuna, and Jiraiya would be awesome and funny 😂😍❤ Thanks 🤗🤗

can you do the sending nudes thing but for akatsuki plzzz bby 😭🤲🏽❤️

#working on wips #wip #requests #bakubabes hatake #my wip

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scarletjedi · 4 years ago

Text

Sangcheng Time Travel Fix It Chapter 1

I think I *might* have figured out how to end the outline, so that will hopefully be posted in the next day or so, in the mean time, have the first chapter. This is all but a rough draft, and unbetad, so bear with me people. I *think* I’ve used the correct terms for everything, and I think everything and everyone is decently named, but if you notice any glaring errors, please let me know!

Notes at the end of the chapter

Rated M for the inherent homoeroticism of wound care (ie, a sex scene no more graphic than I’ve read in mainstream media, but if you want to skip it, cut to the very end once they kiss)

Jin Guangyao was dead, and for the first time in years, Nie Huaisang had no idea what expression was on his face. His fan was tucked into his belt, his hands full of blood and sand and Jin Guangyao’s ever-present hat.

He didn’t know why he had grabbed it. A token? A reminder? Proof? Of what, he wasn’t sure. That it was over, maybe.

He really didn’t know.

Lost in thought, he wandered away from the steps, leaving Lan Xichen to his own grief. It would be a while before Nie Huaisang was truly welcome in Lan Xichen’s presence, if ever. Lan Xichen always was forgiving, right up until he wasn’t.

Huaisang’s vision, hazy and unfocused as it was, suddenly filled with purple and deep indigo, and he stopped just short of collision. Blinking, he raised his head to meet Jiang Wanyin’s eyes.

It was well known that the legendary Sandu Shengshou had only one expression – a harsh, disapproving scowl. It was certainly the only expression he ever wore at discussion conferences. Huaisang remembered differently, however. He remembered surprisingly soft smiles, eyes that widened with wonder as a deep flush crawled across his cheekbones. He remembered, too, the way tears would glisten as they fell, his face twisting—

Jiang Wanyin’s mouth scowled, yes, but his eyes were red-rimmed and soft, and Huaisang wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen the look in them before. Considering everything he had learned tonight, Huaisang wasn’t sure that Jiang Wanyin had looked that way before. Perhaps when Lotus Pier fell.

Oh. He was talking.

“—ack to Lotus Pier.”

Huaisang blinked. “I am sorry, Jiang-xiong. I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.”

The scowl deepened, though Huaisang was pretty sure it was concern rather than anger.

“I said, ‘Come back to Lotus Pier.’ You’re in no condition to make the trip back to Qinghe right now.” Even now, his requests sounded like orders. Da-ge had been like that, too, showing his care the only way he knew how. As a teenager, Huaisang had found comfort in the ways he pushed those boundaries. “Rest before you head back North.”

But Huaisang wasn’t a teenager anymore.

“Ah,” Huaisang said, pulling on a watery smile, raising Jin Guangyao’s hat like it was a fan and catching himself only at the last moment. “Sect Leader Jaing—”

“Nie Huaisang,” Jiang Wanyin said, cutting off his protests. He must be so very tired, the way his voice crackled like the lightning that he had chained to his hand. “Enough.”

Huaisang closed eyes that burned from the dust still wafting around them. The last thing he wanted was to be Sect Leader Nie right now, and no matter how Jiang Wanyin might insist otherwise, Huaisang wouldn’t be able to put that mask down anywhere but The Unclean Realm.

His hand tightened on Jin Guangyao’s hat. That was <i>before</i>. The whole point of tonight was to make things different, moving forward. “Alright,” he said. “Yes.”

Jiang Wanyin didn’t move for a long moment, long enough for Huaisang to realize, to open his eyes again, feeling frozen by the intensity of that look. He couldn’t for the life of him decide what it meant.

Jin Ling’s voice rang across the courtyard, and Huaisang startled, but it was enough to break the moment. Jiang Wanyin stalked off, corralling the chaos by pure force of will.

Huaisang looked around. It would be easy enough to disappear, to slink into the morning crowd and find a room in an inn to hide and break-down like the disreputable sect leader everyone knew he was – until he could reaffix his own mask and return home with what passed for dignity these days.

But if he was anywhere in Yunmeng, Jiang Wanyin would simply find him and drag him to Lotus Pier himself.

A small smile curled the corner of his lip. If he had more energy, he might do it anyway, simply for the chance to rile his old friend.

If they were still friends. Huaisang wasn’t sure he had any of those anymore.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Huaisang leaned back against a pillar and waited. His disciples found him not long after. They are a good group, he thinks. Young. Very young. They would have been just barely juniors when Huaisang became sect leader, old enough to remember Da-ge, but young enough to be Huaisang’s. It was why he had chosen them for this, after all.

The future of the Nie sect. Looking into their concerned faces, he wondered how many he would have to bury himself.

…Perhaps Jiang Wanyin was right about him needing rest. He was getting maudlin.

“Sect Leader?” Nie Zonglin, the most senior disciple of this group, asked in a voice pitched to not carry, and Huaisang realized his frown had made it to his face.

He almost pasted on a smile. “We will be returning to Lotus Pier for the next few days, to recover from the recent—” he waved his hand, Jin Guangyao’s hand circling in front of him. “…excitement. When we return, send word home not to expect us before the end of the week.”

Nie Zonglin nodded in understanding, and Huaisang’s eyes fell to his hands again.

He lifted the hat.

“And do something about this, won’t you?”

~*~

Lotus Pier was as Jiang Cheng left it, rushing out into the storm after Fairy and Jin Ling. He was a necessary presence, of course, but he’d be damned if his sect couldn’t mind itself for a few hours.

He had rushed out in the middle of the night, and had turned homeward as the sun crested the horizon. The sun was now high enough in the sky to call the time “morning” rather than “dawn.” They had been out all night. He was tired in a way he hadn’t felt since the worst days of the Sunshot Campaign, the skin of his face taught with dried tears.

Several of the sects that had sought shelter in Lotus Pier after the failure at the Burial Mounds had already left, having been able to sleep through the night, unaware that the cultivation world had been spun on its head. Again.

He turned to his seneschal, informing him that those who had stayed to take advantage of his hospitality (minus, of course, Jin Ling and Nie Huaisang) were to be subtly but firmly told to get the hell off his pier.

“I have a private meeting with Sect Leader Nie,” he said, not reacting to but very aware of the way Nie Huaisang’s focus burned on the back of his head. “Bring a meal. And wine.” It was too early for wine. They were going to need the wine. “Other than that, see to it that we are not disturbed.” His seneschal bowed, moving quickly to fulfill his tasks.

“A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng said, turning. His chest was throbbing painfully, as if the damning red line still bright against his nephew’s neck had reminded him that he, himself, was injured. “See a healer, and then get some rest.”

Jin Ling looked blank for a moment; shock, grief, exhaustion. Jiang Cheng knew it well, the way it was far too much when your world had collapsed and you were faced with the reality that nothing stops for your own grief. “I have to…” he started, trailing off.

As heir to the Lanling Jin Sect, Jin Ling had to return to Koi Tower, had to claim his birthright, had to spin the damage caused by another Sect Leader killed during their own immoral dealings.

At least Jin Ling wouldn’t have to deal with being Chief Cultivator. There was no way the world would follow an untested teenager. There would be elections, then. Soon. But not yet.

“You have to sleep,” Jiang Cheng said, firmly but without much of his customary coarseness. That, too, seemed to have been stripped away in that temple. He braced his hands on Jin Ling’s shoulders. It was enough to break Jin Ling from his stupor and he scowled at his uncle. “Listen to me, for once,” Jiang Cheng said, shaking him gently. “Eat. Sleep. Cry if you need to.” He shook him once more, when it looked like Jin Ling might interrupt. “When you wake, we will plan your next steps. We are family,” he said, his sister’s voice echoing in his ears. “We must stick together.”

At his side, Fairy whined. Still, she was the only exception to Lotus Pier’s ban on dogs, and that’s only because it was Jin Lings, and Jiang Cheng was never going to take his nephew’s puppy from his care. Jin Ling’s hand trailed down to bury itself in Fairy’s run, and Jin Ling nodded.

He stepped back, bowing too low for courtesy between sect leaders, but Jiang Cheng wasn’t going to correct him now, like this. It could wait for the pain to pass.

Jiang Cheng waited until Jin Ling was out of sight before he said, barely turning: “Sect Leader Nie. If you’ll follow me,” and let his feet take him down the well-familiar path to his personal quarters. They could talk in his reception area there, and he would be that much closer to his own bed. Nie Huaisang would be father from his guest quarters, and it may be considered ruse, but Jiang Cheng didn’t have it left in him to care. If Nie Huaisang wanted that kind of consideration, he wouldn’t have…

Even in his head, the threats failed to take root. He could threaten all he wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that he lacked information about tonight’s…production.

Jiang Cheng nearly stopped walking, several pieces falling into place. He had interrupted a production, tonight – a stage show performed to capture, expose, and execute the man who had killed Nie Huaisang’s brother, before a captive audience.

And here he had Nie Huaisang, famed patron of the arts.

Shaking his head to dismiss the thought, Jiang Cheng opened the door to his quarters, looking at Nie Huaisang who dismissed the two disciples who had followed him with a wave of his fan, held unfurled in his hand, before preceding Jiang Cheng into the room.

It was not the first time Jiang Cheng had hosted Nie Huaisang in his private suite. In the early years, before he had become Sect Leader Nie, he had traveled often – mostly to Lanling, but not infrequently to Lotus Pier, appearing often with only a few days notice (if any), to wander the markets and drink Jiang Cheng’s wine. (Truthfully, those days were one of the few fond memories that Jiang Cheng had that weren’t tainted by loss, even if the nights themselves were fuzzy from drink).

It was on his last visit before his brother’s death that Nie Huaisang had gifted Jiang Cheng one of the fruits of his labors, a fan depicting, in loving detail, Lotus Pier in full bloom. Jiang Cheng had displayed by his desk where he could see it while answering his correspondence and dealing with the never ending paperwork of running a sect. Nie Huaisang hadn’t been in his rooms since, and now he stared at that fan with an unreadable expression on his normally expressive face.

Or, seemingly expressive. How many of those familiar expressions were real? The true mask behind that prop of a fan?

The food arrived then, and they both stayed where they stood, not moving as the table filled and the servants quietly bowed out.

It smelled delicious, but Jiang Cheng’s stomach turned sour.

“Did you mean to involve Jin Ling?”

It wasn’t how he had planned to start, but now that he was here, it was as good a place as any, being the brightest flame to his fury.

“No,” Nie Huaisang said quietly, simply, but firmly.

Jiang Cheng turned to him, saw the way he was standing – arms down, hands open, all but showing this throat—

A deliberate message, but an honest one?

“No?” Jiang Cheng asked, zidian sparking as his fists clenched. Nie Huaisang’s eyes flickered closed for a moment, as is bracing himself.

“I don’t know what kind of power you think I have—”

Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows rose, incredulous. He thought it was rather obvious the kind of power Nie Huaisang wielded. Nie Huaisang winced, acknowledging the point before pressing on.

“If I was the great mastermind Wei-xiong painted me as, Jing Ling never would have been involved. Do you know how many times I had to make sure I was there just to run damage control? He was a complication, not a game piece.”

“He is my nephew.”

Huaisang drooped, as if weary, as if Jiang Cheng had missed the point. “You were not the only one who watched him grow,” he said. “I did everything I could to keep him safe.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw twitched where it was clenched. “Except keep him out of it. Except tell me.”

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang said, deceptively mild. “Except that.”

“You—” Jiang Cheng cut himself off, turning away abruptly, not knowing where he was going himself, rage like lightning running down his arms, swirling in his chest.

“Yes, me,” Nie Huaisang said, and how dare he sound so calm! “Whatever it is, I am that and more.” How odd it was to see him without his fan; Jiang Cheng had never fully seen the man standing before him. “But I am not complicated, Jiang-xiong,” he continued, neither pleading nor conciliatory — simply presenting truths. “My brother was betrayed, and in such a way that not only killed him, but unmade him, tearing through everything he had built for our sect. He was murdered,” and there were the teeth that Nie Huaisang would not show at the temple, the teeth that had been behind every move he made. “And in return, I unmade his murderer, stripping him of any scrap of dignity or legacy he had built. I watched him crumble like a house of cards, killed by the one he loved and trusted the most, the way he used me to kill my brother.” Nie Huaisang paused, breathing heavy, before continuing, lower. “I got my revenge, Jiang Wanyin. Let’s leave it at that.”

And…Jiang Cheng understood that. Understood it well enough to breathe, to let the rage leave with each exhale, to remember that satisfaction as nothing more than masked grief. To need to move past it.

“Or should we talk about what you learned tonight?”

“Or let’s not,” Jiang Cheng countered. “That is between me and my brother, and in the past besides.”

“Oh yes, because the past has never come back to bite us all on the ass.”

Jiang Cheng let out a bark of shocked laughter. It was enough to take the edge off his anger, but instead of the hollow it usually left, he found himself — fond. He considered Nie Huaisang through narrowed eyes.

“You know, you lied to me before,” he said, his voice light enough to make Nie Huaisang blink at the sudden change in tone.

“I lied to a lot of people,” Nie Huaisang said, guarded, and then more quickly. “When do you mean?”

“When you said you had to be there because Jin Ling was there,” Jiang Cheng said, pointing at Nie Husaisang in victory. “You absolutely wanted to be there tonight, to watch him die.”

Nie Huaisang considered him again, face once more wearing that strange blank look – or, perhaps it wasn’t blank. Perhaps Jiang Cheng just wasn’t used to reading honesty on his friend. Nie Huaisang lowered his eyes, but when he brought them back up, it was with a small, sharp smile that Jiang Cheng had never seen, that made something inside him shiver. “I never actually said I didn’t.”

That made Jiang Cheng laugh in truth, and he waved his hand at the table in invitation.

Hesitating only for a moment, Nie Huaisang sat in a bit of a sprawl, casual in a way that reminded Jiang Cheng sharply of their youth. Following old habits, Jiang Cheng poured wine while Nie Huaisang served them both food, and further concerns were put on hold as they ate and drank, what little exhausted conversation passed between them never deeper than the quality of the food.

At length, Huaisang placed his chopsticks across his bowl and tucked his hands into his sleeves. “You can ask your questions. I promise, no falsehoods, no misdirection. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

And that made Jiang Cheng pause. Of course he had questions, but at the same time, he didn’t – Nothing that he was entitled to.

“Alright,” Jiang Cheng said. “Are you going to eat the last bun?” He reached for it without waiting for an answer.

“Jiang Wanyin!”

“Is that a no? I’m assuming that’s a no,” Jiang Cheng said, smirking as he took a large bite. Nie Huaisang watched him, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and his heart beat faster, alert.

“You’re not one for such games,” Nie Huaisang said. It was an obvious statement, Jiang Cheng had never pretended to have patience for them.

“No,” Jiang Cheng said. “But apparently, you are.” He downed the last of his wine, considering the way Nie Huaisang seemed to shrink into himself.

Jiang Cheng signed. “You said it yourself,” he said. “I understand revenge. I heard enough to know that Jin Guangyao earned whatever you put him through.” He paused. “And, he directly threatened Jin Ling, so I would understand if you resurrected him, too, just for the pleasure of killing him again.” Nie Huaisang huffed, and for the first time flicked open his fan, hiding the bottom half of his face. Jiang Cheng let him hide, for the moment.

“If you need to talk, to tell me details, I will listen. If you think there’s something I need to know that I have not already learned, I want you to tell me, but it’s enough for me, for now, to know that you never made Jin Ling a target.” He considered. “And you were there each time he was in trouble, weren’t you?”

“Except for Yi City,” Nie Huaisang confirmed. “And then, he was with the other juniors.”

Nie Huaisang still wasn’t meeting his eyes, seemingly lost in some memory, and Jiang Cheng didn’t think before he reached out, hissing when the move pulled the wound in his shoulder.

“Oh, you’re still wounded!” Nie Husaisang exclaimed, eyes suddenly clear as they snapped to him. “Forgive me, Jiang-xiong, I had forgotten.”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Cheng said, easing back and not wanting to admit that he had forgotten, too. His disciples had fussed over him at the temple, not letting him leave until it had been seen to, and his cultivation was high enough (and didn’t that send a jagged twinge through him), that he wouldn’t have to deal with the wound for long. As he had moved, however, he could feel the bandage slipping, jarred loose, and he pressed his palm to it.

“No, no, please, let me help,” Nie Huaisang fluttered, robes flapping like bird wings, but Jiang Cheng still found himself pulled up with deceptive strength, and he let himself be led, unresisting but protesting, to sit on his bed.

“Move your sleeve,” he instructed, reaching into his own to pull out a silver pouch with green and bronze embroidery in the shape of summer branches, from which he pulled bandages and several small bottles which he lined up on the low table next to the bed.

Rolling his eyes, Jiang Cheng stood, batting away Nie Huaisang’s hands before undoing his belt to remove his outermost layer of robes. They were heavy, thick with embroidery, and hard to work around – not to mention the fact that he had been stabbed through them meant that they were damaged and not a little bit bloody. He smirked when Nie Husaisang stilled, swinging the robes over his head to lay at the foot of his bed to be cleaned and repaired, if possible, or repurposed if not. He hoped they were fixable. They were one of his favorite sets.

His under-robes fit more loosely, their material lighter, and it was easier to push them aside, revealing the wound with its loose bandage. Luckily, from what he could see, no blood that seeped through the bandage.

Nie Huaisang’s fingers were gentle, pleasantly warm where they touched him softly callused from his favored brushes. Gingerly, he pulled away the bandage, tisking softly when it was clear the bandage had stuck and easing it loose.

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth, maybe to comment on how unnecessary this all was. It had all but stopped bleeding, barely hurting. Maybe he meant to offer comfort – Jiang Cheng was fine, past any danger.

But there was something brittle in Nie Huaisang’s eyes, in the line of his mouth, that stilled his words and stole his breath. Nie Huaisang’s hands didn’t shake as he plucked a bottle from the collection, shaking its powdered contents on the wound before wrapping a clean bandage, tying it securely.

Nie Huaisang’s fingertips lingered, sending a small, tingling stream of qi, and when he looked up, eyes meeting Jiang Cheng’s, they were wide and dark.

“Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng said on his next breath, raising his hand to cup Huaisang’s cheek and run his thumb softly over the tender, bruised skin beneath his eye. Huaisang’s eyes fluttered but didn’t shut, peering at Jiang Cheng from behind shadowed lashes.

“You weren’t supposed to be there, either, you know?” Husaisang said, his jaw brushing the palm of Jiang Cheng’s hand as he spoke. “It was inevitable the minute Jin Ling showed up, but you weren’t supposed to be there, and he nearly killed you too—”

“Who nearly killed me?” Jiang Cheng scoffed, but it was quiet, meant for the space between them. “What nonsense is this, now?”

“Don’t—” Huaisang said, his hand tightening over Jiang Cheng’s wound, fingers digging into the surrounding muscle, and Jiang Cheng raised his other hand to cradle Huaisang’s head, and his eyes slipped closed at last, lashes wet.

Jiang Cheng brushed his fingers across Huaisang’s eyes, chasing away the tears before they could shed, and leaned in, kissing his mouth. He pulled back, tapping his fingers on Huaisang’s neck until Huaisang opened his eyes. “I’m right here,” Jiang Cheng said, and then smirked. “But you’re willing to check for yourself.”

Huaisang made a needy sound, whining high in his throat as he swayed forward, pressing kiss after kiss to Jiang Cheng’s cheeks, his chin, his nose – until Jiang Cheng turned his head and captured his mouth, not calming but giving direction to his fervor.

This between them wasn’t new either. Teenage fumbling had given way to an easy friendship that tumbled them into and out of one bed or another. It was…fun. Not simple, but tolerably complicated. Necessary.

Huaisang tasted like wine and sweet chili from their meal, and Jiang Cheng chased those flavors until he tasted of nothing but himself, so familiar that it made Jiang Cheng’s heart pound. He had missed this. Him. Them.

“Wanyin,” Nie Huaisang moaned against his mouth, trembling.

“Yes, Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng answered, but it must have been obvious when Huaisang pressed against him. Jiang Cheng lay back, pulling Huaisang by his robes even as he climbed to his knees, crawling over him, hands wandering as if to be sure that Jiang Cheng was here, was real.

Pressed together, chest to knees as Huaisang rocked against him, Jiang Cheng wrapped his arm around Huaisang’s lower back, drawing him close as he rolled his hips. He was hard, a desperate edge to the heat building between them, a needful urge to prove himself here and alive, and he grinned when his next thrust made Huaisang’s breath stutter.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Jiang Cheng said, voice low, his cheek pressed to Huaisang’s temple. Huaisang breathed sharply through his nose, eyes closed, but he pushed up, swatting at Jiang Cheng’s chest until he let him go, laughing, hovering above Jiang Cheng as he undid his belt with deft fingers.

Jiang Cheng let his eyes wander, taking in the hair escaping the usually immaculate and intricate braids, the flush high on Huaisang’s cheeks, the way his lips were kiss-swollen. He couldn’t help himself from running his hands up and down Huaisang’s thighs, slipping under the many robes, so only his pants were between his palms and warm skin.

Arching his back as he peeled away his robes, Huaisang’s eyes locked on Jiang Cheng’s own, even as each layer removed prompted Jiang Cheng’s hands to creep higher and higher, the back of his hands brushing the hard heat between his thighs.

Huaisang moaned, the sound hitting Jiang Cheng deep in his gut and Jiang Cheng pulled him down again, hands slipping on the fabric as he tried to grab skin. There were still too many layers between them — any layer would be too many, but neither was pausing to take them off an option, not any more — but they were thinner, soft enough for Jiang Cheng to feel the hard, heat of Huaisang as he ground it against Jiang Cheng’s own. His hands mapped the feel of the muscles in Husaisang’s back flex beneath that soft, supple skin.

Jiang Cheng always liked that softness, wanted to sink into it and never leave, let his focus be consumed by cushioned warmth and wet heat and leave the world behind.

Despite his efforts to linger in desire, Jiang Cheng felt his pleasure racing to peak, the aftermath of excitement coupled with how very long it had been since anyone had touched him with intent.

That, too, had been Huaisang.

He refused to feel shame for it, not when Huaisang was gasping so prettily in his ear, his hips stuttering, chasing his own pleasure. Jiang Cheng ducked his head to give attention to Huaisang’s neck.

Jiang Cheng bit gently, holding the delicate skin between his teeth as he sucked, and Huaisang came with a soft cry, warmth spreading between them. A few more thrusts had Jiang Cheng following, groaning his completion into Huaisang’s hair where it lay damp with sweat at his temple.

Huaisang went limp, laying across and atop of him, breathing heavily. Jiang Cheng was little better, especially with the weight of him on his chest, but he wrapped his arms around him anyway, not ready to lose this yet.

“How is it,” Huaisang said breathless into the hollow under Jiang Cheng’s jaw. “That I never seem to anticipate you.”

Jiang Cheng hummed, pressing a pleased smile into Huaisang’s hair, already feeling sleep creep in at the edges. He knew they had to get cleaned up, not the least for if someone came to find them, but the longer he lay there the less he felt inclined to move.

“Jiang Cheng, you need to get up.”

“I will, I will. Soon.”

“Well, fine, if you want to be late to Old Man Lan’s lecture,” Wei Wuxian drawled.

Lecture?

Wei Wuxian?!

Jiang Cheng snapped awake, shooting up to stare at a face he hadn’t seen in twenty years. Wei Wuxian, dressed in his white GusuLan student robes, stumbled back a step, laughing carelessly at Jiang Cheng’s shock.

“Oh, fuck me,” Jiang Cheng said.

Notes: This “chapter” is part of a longer writing project that will be eventually be posted to AO3.

This chapter contained a moderately-explicit and possibly ill-conceived sex scene between two consenting adults and frank discussion of a lack of regret over revenge killing.

#the untamed #sj writes the untamed #sangcheng #rated M #the great sangcheng time travel fix it fic project

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saiilorstars · 4 years ago

Text

Falling in Temptation

Previous chapters • Sequel to Stars Dance • Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

Ch. 26: The God Complex

Fandom: Doctor Who // Pairing: 11th Doctor x OFC

Chapter summary: The travelers are stuck in a hotel hell-bent on showing them their worst fears. The Doctor's greatest fears shown to him is what finally pushes him to do something he should've done a long time ago.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @perfectlystiles

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

Avalon was sitting on mushy, green grass with her journal and pen. There was a sun, or a fake sun, shining up above in the 'sky'. There was a very visible flower scent that flooded the area with every breeze. Avalon loved the room the TARDIS had made for her, it was very...fairy-tale like. But also, it was the perfect place to attempt to write. It had only recently come up and Avalon couldn't be more thankful for the TARDIS again. She truly made life easier. The new room had been Avalon's new sanctuary to keep on drafting.

Of course, it usually only worked when a certain Time Lord wasn't around...and that was soon to end in...3...2...1...

"Gotcha!" the Doctor cheered as he took Avalon by surprise with a hug from behind.

The ginger flinched and dropped her journal and pen. She turned her head to the side and frowned, "I'm gonna slap you one of these days."

"But not today," the Doctor smirked and pressed a kiss to her lips. Afterwards, he moved over and sat down beside her, "So what are we doing on this fine morning?"

"How would you know it's morning?" Avalon chuckled, "You live in a time machine."

"Clearly because Amy and Rory were going into the kitchen for breakfast, duh," the Doctor playfully rolled his eyes.

"Don't be a smart alec with me, it'll cost you," Avalon warned and closed her journal, "Now I don't feel like being irritated in my own sanctuary."

"I would never," the Doctor mocked an offended face, making her laugh.

"I'm sorry," Avalon chuckled and set her journal down on her side. "I know I lock myself up over this thing," she nodded to the journal, "My family always got so irritated with me for it."

"I'm not upset, I was just missing you," the Doctor put an arm around her shoulders, "You're doing what you love, how can I be mad at that?"

Avalon scoffed, "As if I'm doing the thing I love. I want to be a writer but c'mon," she sighed, "We all know it's not happening, I just kid myself with this journal."

"Oi, I gave you that journal, let's not downplay its importance," the Doctor made a face, "And, not to mention, Emmalina gave you your first one, because she believed in you."

Avalon quietly picked up her journal and stared at its cover, her mind drifting off to the past, "She thought I could become one of the greatest writers in history."

"Well, it's not too late," the Doctor shrugged, "You're only 23, perfect age to begin."

"You've gotten to know me a lot better than anyone else, so you know that I'm not a very good person..."

"Let's not get into that topic," the Doctor sighed, "Because I've already told you that it's all senseless."

"No, it's not..." Avalon said quietly.

The Doctor ignored her comment and gently moved her to sit on his lap, "Okay, while I think you are completely wrong about that, I don't see any reason why you can't become a true writer."

"It's scary," Avalon sighed, "Plus, my reputation isn't all that great on Earth. Colleges literally look at everything and I've been arrested several times and I've actually gone to a juvenile detention. That alone disqualifies me, or discourages the admission. You see? There's no hope. I'm doomed to be an amateur for the rest of my life."

"Now wait a minute," the Doctor had to stop her, "Earth isn't the only place you can get some education. You're not even from Earth! You can go anywhere in the galaxy, Ava. They would look at your talent, your ambition, determination..."

"And do you think I have any of that?"

"Of course I do! All that and more," the Doctor kissed her hair, "Just say the word and we'll go and get you to see one of the professors."

Avalon lightly smiled as she thought of something, "You know, River's a professor, in the future," she raised her head to look at him, "You think she would be willing to help? Give some pointers?"

The Doctor hadn't quite thought of that, but knew right there it wouldn't be a good idea. "Ava, to contact that River right now would be far too dangerous. She'd be from way into the future and would have too much foreknowledge."

"Right," Avalon sheepishly smiled, "Guess I'd be on my own, then."

"Never, you'd have all of us, especially me," the Doctor nodded.

"It would be kind of nice," Avalon said and sighed a few seconds later. "I don't know. It's all so...new, you know? I don't know what I want to do."

"There's no rush, Ava. Take some time to think of all of your options and when you decide on something, you let me know and I'll do my best to help you."

Avalon nodded. It sounded like a good plan. She didn't want to rush into anything, especially something as important as an actual career. "You're incredible, do you know that?" She rested her head against his shoulder and smiled as she felt his arm wrap around her. "You're the best thing that's happened to me in my entire life."

"Wow, feel special now," the Doctor smiled. "Who'd known that the snappiest little girl in that sleepover would grow up and steal my hearts?"

"Mm, I had big goals," Avalon joked, "And don't call me 'snappy'. I wasn't 'snappy'. I was just making sure you weren't going to hurt my sister. But if your feelings are still hurt I'm sure there's something I can do about it now..."

"And what would that be?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow as she shifted her body to face him. She had that sneaky smile he came to love early on.

"A little of this," Avalon pecked his lips. "And a lot of this," she kissed him again but deepened it, making it so that both of them were left without air and quite dazed.

~ 0 ~

The Doctor excitedly popped his head over a staircase railing, looking down at the many spirals of the stairs below. The rest of the travelers did the same but unlike him, they were nowhere near pleased with the sight.

"'Let's go to Ravan-Skala,' he says," Amy began with a huff, ""The people are 600 feet tall, you have to talk to them in hot air balloons and the Tourist Information Centre is made of one of their hats,' he says."

"And yet, there are no such hats," Avalon finished for her and raised her head to look at the Time Lord, "You have lied and badly."

"This is just awful," Rory went ahead and added.

The Doctor looked at the three with a scowl, "Amy, Beaky—"

"I would think real hard before you nickname me," Avalon pointed a warning finger at him.

"Princess," the Doctor flashed a smile, Avalon playfully rolling her eyes as a response, "Now this could be the most exciting thing I have ever seen!"

"You're kidding," Rory shook his head.

"How can you be excited about a rubbish hotel on a rubbish bit of Earth?" Amy crossed her arms and stared at the Doctor in disbelief.

"I'm not that surprised," Avalon remarked, "He gets excited about the stupidest things."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and ignored their little remarks, "Because, assembled Ponds..."

"And Reynolds," Avalon interjected with an amused smile.

"And Reynolds," the Doctor quietly added it. It was slips like those that could create such problems for him and everyone else and yet his mouth still had the ability to continue making the error. It was just too much fun calling her a Pond. "This is not Earth. This has just been made to look like Earth. The craftsmanship involved... Can you imagine?"

"Then where are we?" Avalon grew tired of the ole mystery. Unfortunately for her, the Doctor didn't seem to agree as he led them through the staircase, returning back to where the TARDIS was parked, "Hello, Doctor?" she called again, making a face as he deeply sniffed a plant.

"I don't know," he finally answered her and turned around, "Something must have yanked us off course. Look at the detail on that cheese plant!" he excitedly pointed at the plant.

"You want me to be excited over a...plant?" Avalon raised an eyebrow and walked up to him, slowly smiling of amusement, "You're so weird," she rested her hands on his chest and chuckled, "Remember when you ate grass?"

"And you told me to never kiss you," the Doctor decided to remind her rather smugly, "Look at us now."

"Shut up," Avalon remembered that moment quite clearly. She'd never have imagined the alien who tasted blue grass and just about anything else he found intriguing would actually steal her heart.

"Um, hello?" Rory called back to them, pulling them out of their moment, "Who would mock up an Earth hotel?"

"Colonists maybe, recreating a bit of home," the Doctor thought as he turned Avalon around and wrapped his arms around her waist, "Like when ex-pats open English pubs in Majorca. No, whoever did this, I am shaking his/her hand/tentacle."

"Seriously, you get excited over the stupidest things," Avalon sighed with resignation.

Rory moved over to a wall full of photographs of various species, soon calling the attention to Amy, "Have you seen these? Look at the labels underneath," he pointed to a photograph of a Sontaran, "Commander Halke, defeat," he then moved onto a human, "Tim Heath, having his photo taken. Lady Silver-Tear... Daleks."

Amy agreed there was something strange in that and decided to look for herself, "Paige Barnes, other people's socks. Tim Nelson, balloons. Novice Prin, sabrewolves. Royston Luke Gold, Plymouth. Lucy Hayward, that brutal gorilla," she glanced over to the Doctor, "Doctor, what does it mean?

"I don't know, let's find out," the Doctor took Avalon's hand and pointed for them to start moving.

They entered the reception room where they could hear a soft tune playing in the background due to some radio player at the reception desk. The Doctor tapped a bell on the desk and immediately three people jumped from around the corner, one of them, a woman, brandishing a chair leg at them.

"Blimey, that was quick," the Doctor jumped back.

"We surrender!" cried the alien of the three strangers.

"No, it's OK, we're not..." Rory grew tensed and came up with, "We're nice!"

"She threatened me with a chair leg," the Doctor suddenly noticed and looked at the others in disbelief.

"Who are you?" the woman with the chair leg demanded.

"We're back in reception," the third of the trio took notice of the new room.

"We surrender!" repeated the alien.

"Never been threatened with a chair leg before!" the Doctor was still stuck on that, "No, I tell a lie."

"Did you just say, 'It's OK, we're nice?'" Amy had suddenly realized that and had to find out the reason for it.

"EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP!" came the loud yell of Avalon who successfully managed to quiet everyone down, "Thank you," she breathed in relief and straightened herself up. "God, sometimes…"

"Their pupils are dilated," the woman took notice of the travelers' faces.

"What?" Avalon looked at her with suspicion and confusion.

"They're as surprised as we are," the woman continued, "Besides which, if it's a trick, it'll tell us something."

"Oh, you're good," the Doctor pointed, genuinely impressed, "Oh, she's good. Amy, with regret, you're fired."

Avalon looked at him with a scowl, "Excuse you?"

"I'm kidding," the Doctor waved her off but looked at the woman and mimed holding a phone to his ear, "We'll talk," he whispered.

"EXCUSE YOU?" Avalon raised an eyebrow at him, "There'll be no 'talks'," she frowned, "Not unless you're prepared to die."

The Doctor loved when Avalon got jealous but battling it out in front of strangers wasn't exactly his idea of having fun. He tugged her to him, through struggle as she was clearly upset, and looked at the others, "I take it from the pathological compulsion to surrender, you're from Tivoli," he settled on the alien of the strangers.

"Yes, the most invaded planet in the galaxy. Our anthem is called Glory To Insert Name Here."

Avalon stopped struggling against the Doctor to glance at the alien, "That's...sad," she informed then continued to fight, mumbling a few curse words here and there.

"You with the face, Howie, you said you were surprised to be back in reception," the Doctor pointed to the young man with them.

"The walls move, everything changes," Howie struggled to say as he looked around.

"You, clever one, what's he talking about?" the Doctor had looked back at the woman in scrubs, "And what's your name?"

"Oh yes, that's working well," Avalon muttered and practically swatted his hands off her, but to no avail.

"The corridors twist and stretch, rooms vanish and pop up somewhere else," the woman explained, "It's like the hotel's alive. And, um, Rita," she was noticing the odd looks she was getting from Avalon and frankly felt a bit nervous.

"Let me go," Avalon ordered the Doctor and finally pushed him off. She rolled her eyes and jumped over the reception desk to the radio station, "New rule, this stays off all night," she glanced back at the others, "It's giving me a headache. Now, then, what were you saying about the hotel?"

"It's huge, with, like, no way out," Howie finished for Rita.

"Have you tried the front door?" Rory had to ask since the 'easiest way out' always seemed the most ignored option during their travels.

"No, in two days it never occurred to us to try the front door," Rita sarcastically replied, "Thank God you're here!"

"Oi, don't be rude to my best friend," Avalon snapped at her as she jumped on the desk again, taking a comfortable seat on it with her legs dangling.

The Doctor had taken out his sonic to scan the door and opened it to find a white brick wall, confirming Howie's statement, "They're not doors, they're walls, walls that look like doors. Door-walls, if you like, or "dwalls", "woors" even, though you'd probably got it when you said, "They're not doors." I mean, the windows are..." he moved over to a pair of curtains and flung them to the sides, only to find more wall behind, "Right, big day if you're a fan of walls."

"It's not just that," Rita quietly said, Howie and Trivol both also getting quiet, "The rooms have...things in them."

"Things? Hello! What kind of things?" the Doctor was once again excited, "Interesting things? I love things, ask anyone."

"Stupid things," Avalon remarked as she inspected her nails, clearly trying to seem disinterested.

"Bad dreams," Rita answered the question with fear evident in her tone.

"Well, that killed the mood," the Doctor's excitement faded.

"There was never a mood here," Avalon looked at him with a scowl, reminding him this hadn't even been their choice of adventure in the first place.

"How did you get here?" the Doctor focused on the problem at hand.

"I don't know, I'd just started my shift," Rita shrugged, "I must have passed out, because suddenly I was here."

"I was blogging, next thing, this," Howie gestured to the room.

"Oh, I was at work, I'm in town planning," the alien went next, "We're lining all the highways with trees, so invading forces can march in the shade."

"Still very sad," Avalon whispered to him.

"Which is nice for them," the alien continued, ignoring the comment.

"Yeah... So what have we got?" the Doctor reviewed the information they'd just gotten, "People snatched from their lives and dropped into an endless, shifting maze that looks like a 1980s hotel with bad dreams in the bedrooms. Well, apart from anything else, that's just rude."

"Says the rudest alien I've ever met," Avalon hopped off the desk with a clean smirk, "Now then, can we please get out of here? This hotel is creeping me out..." the Doctor agreed and reached to take her hand but she put them behind her back and sharply looked at him, "Under probation," she announced and headed off.

The Doctor made a face and looked at Amy and Rory, "Dare I ask what that even means?"

"Em, no," Amy shook her head and went off after Avalon, motioning for the others to do the same.

"See when Ava went out on dates she designated them as 'under probation'...and then she never saw them again," Rory decided to inform the Time Lord and had to hide his teasing smirk. It wasn't often he got to do that and since the Doctor had practically done that to himself, Rory figured why not?

~ 0 ~

As the group was coming up the staircase, the Doctor explained the plan to them all, "We'll pop back to the TARDIS, I'll do a planet-wide diagnostic sweep, then we'll have a sing song..." he trailed off when they'd reached the space in which the TARDIS was supposed to be in.

"And the TARDIS is gone," Avalon sighed, not very surprised as well, "Cos you parked it here, didn't you?"

"What's a TARDIS?" Howie looked at the travelers with confusion.

"Our way out," Rory groaned and held his head in his hands, "And it's gone!"

And suddenly, the music Avalon had shut off in the reception room played soothingly over the speakers.

"Okay, this is bad," the Doctor declared, "At the moment, I don't know how bad, but certainly we're three buses, a long walk and eight quid in a taxi from good. Are there any more of you?" he looked at Rita for the answer.

"Joe, but he's tied up right now," Rita leaned on the rail of the stairs, her eyes drifting to the side.

"Doing what?" the Doctor asked her.

"No, I mean he's...tied up right now," Rita made a face as the group realized her words now.

~ 0 ~

And Rita's words were proven true when the group entered the dining room that contained Joe strapped to a chair at one of the tables, identical laughing dummies surrounding him at the other tables.

"This is beyond creepy," Avalon breathed as she looked from one dummy to another, feeling even worse when the dummies all stopped laughing to turn their heads to them. "Oh yeah, we're definitely in a scary movie."

The Doctor went straight for the tied man, determined to figure out what was going on, "Hello, I'm the Doctor."

The man didn't seem quite there as he made a response, "You're going to die here."

"Well, they certainly didn't mention that in the brochure. Is Joe there?" the Doctor reached for a chair, "Can I have a quick word?"

"Oh, it's still me, Doctor, but I've seen the light. I lived a blasphemous life, but he has forgiven my inconstancy, and soon...he shall feast."

"Well, you've been here two days," the Doctor reminded, "What's he waiting for?"

"We weren't ready. We were still raw."

"But now you're what? Cooked?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow, suddenly lost.

"If you like," Joe shrugged then smiled, "Soon you will be, too," he assured, "Be patient. First...find your room."

"My room..." the Doctor followed.

"There's a room here for everyone, Doctor. Even you."

"You said you'd seen the light now."

"Nothing else matters anymore. Only him. It's like these things. I used to hate them! They make me laugh now," Joe had a laugh with the dummies, "Gottle o' geer! Gottle o' geer! You should go. He'll be here soon."

The Doctor stood up with a fake smile and grabbed a hand dolley to put under Joe's chair, "I think you should come with me."

~ 0 ~

The group returned to the reception room where the music was once again playing in the background. The Doctor was looking at the four strangers with curiosity, "Why you four? That's what I don't understand. Aside from all the other things I don't understand," he mused while he shut the music off.

"What does it matter?" Gibbis shook his head, "Sooner or later, someone will come along and rescue us. Or enslave us."

Avalon stared at him in utter awe, "That's the spirit," she remarked sarcastically.

"Okay, look, first we find the TARDIS," the Doctor said then wagged a finger at all of them, "If you feel drawn to a particular room, do not go in, and make sure someone else can see you at all times."

"Joe said 'he' will feast. Is there something here with us?" Rita wondered nervously while looking at Joe who was still nowhere with them in mind-terms.

Joe laughed after the question had been asked and so the Doctor glanced at him, "Something to add, Joe?"

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed, here comes a chopper to chop off your head," the man started saying, "Chop, chop, chop, chop."

"Can we do something about him?" Howie put a hand on his head as he tried ignoring Joe's words.

'I'm all over it," Avalon raised a hand as she moved to the desk, hopping on it and reaching underneath to pull out black dutch tape, "Put it on," she chucked it to Howie then looked at Joe, "He's saying stupid stuff I'd rather not hear."

And so, after Joe was taped over the mouth, they all headed for the hallways in an attempt to find the TARDIS.

"Personally, I think you've got the right idea," Gibbis said to Joe as he pushed the man's chair, "Times like this, I think of my old school motto, "Resistance Is Exhausting."

"I've worked out where we are," Howie announced to Rory.

"Hmm?" Rory looked at him.

"Norway."

"Norway?"

"You see, the US government has entire cities hidden in the Norwegian mountains. Earth is on a collision course with this other planet, and this is where they're going to send all the rich people when it kicks off."

"Amazing," Rory blinked.

"It's all there on the internet."

"No, it's amazing you've come up with a theory even more insane than what's actually happening."

The group was stopped when an older man came out of a room in front of them, "Have you forgotten your PE kit again?" the teacher looked at the Doctor, "Right, that's it, you're doing it in your pants!"

The Doctor shook off the odd moment and turned to see Howie nearing a door, "Hey! Don't!" he ran, even the group shifting to try and stop Howie.

The door to the room was opened and allowed the others the sight of young women looking like they were at a party. They all looked over and started laughing when they saw Howie, "Oh, look, girls, it's H-H-H-Howie!"

"What's "loser" in K-K-K-Klingon?" one of the girls asked then laughed again.

Howie backed away from the door, "Shut the d-d...the-the door!" the Doctor did as told, "This is just some m-m-messed-up CIA stuff, I-I-I'm telling you."

"You're right," the Doctor agreed with him in an attempt to calm him, "Keep telling yourself that. It's a CIA thing, nothing more..." he looked at the others and nodded for them to keep moving.

They reached a hallway that was in rather odd conditions. The Doctor looked at one of the walls with light sconces and plaster scraped off. Avalon found a paper on the floor and bent down to get it.

"Guys?" Rory had taken a double look at a fire exit that stood big and proud several feet away from him.

However, the growl of the beast grabbed everyone's attention and made everyone save Rory gather around.

"OK, whatever that is, it's not real, yeah?" Avalon questioned the Doctor, though she wasn't very convinced herself.

"No, no, I'm sure it isn't," the Doctor took her hand yet still backed away with her, "But just in case, let's run away and hide anyway. In here," he reached for a room and flung the door open, motioning for the others to get in while Rita took herself and Joe into another room.

"You liar," Avalon snapped at the Doctor.

"What? I can't try and make my Ava feel better?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

She rolled her eyes, "Oh shut up," she looked around him to where Rory was, "Oi, Rory! C'mon!" Rory was trying to find the fire exit that had mysteriously disappeared on him, "Rory!"

"Ava, please, get inside," the Doctor tried pushing her into the room.

"No, not without Rory," Avalon struggled against him, "Please?"

The Doctor groaned and turned for Rory, "COME ON!" he shouted for the human frantically. When Rory finally started coming towards them, the Doctor got Avalon inside the room and a couple seconds he and Rory followed.

"Aiiee!" the Doctor nearly fell over when he saw two Weeping Angels statues in the room facing them.

"Don't...blink," Amy was staring dead hard at the Angels and practically forcing Howie to do the same since Gibbis was cowering inside a cupboard on the side of the room.

"They're gonna get us," Avalon breathed as the lights flickered and the Angels changed positions.

"Ava, get back," the Doctor grabbed her arm while Rory took Amy's, "Why haven't they gotten us yet?"

"Do you really think we should be questioning that?" Avalon would've given him a look if the Angels were taking up her attention, "Why not 'oh, how can we get out of this?'.

The Doctor moved in front of her as he went towards the statues. Nervously, he tried touching one only to realize they weren't even real Angels, "They're not real," he said to the others.

"What?" Amy frowned, still not taking her eyes off the statues.

"They should have got us by now," the Doctor turned to Amy, "Amy, look at me, focus on me. It's your bad dream, that's all."

"I don't even think they're for us," Rory finally realized as the lights flickered again but the statues remained in place.

Avalon made a face as she looked around, "But if it's not Amy, then who's the room for—" she didn't get to finish her question when Gibbis let out a sharp scream from the cupboard and shut the door, answering her question right there and then.

The Doctor heard the steps of the beast getting closer so he went for the door, confusing the others.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Amy had to ask, wondering what kind of plan he was forming to save them.

"I'm sorry, I just have to see what it is. I just have to see," the Doctor apologized and peered through the peephole in the door, finding the shadow of the beast on the other side, "Oh, look at you... You are beautiful..." he gasped when the beast suddenly stood on the other side staring right at him, "Oh, dear..." he cautiously stepped back.

"It's on the other side, isn't it?" Avalon assumed with a sigh.

"That...may be a possibility," the Doctor slowly went for the door again.

"And looking back at it again would make things better, how exactly?" Avalon grew nervous as he stared through the peephole. That door was just a door and if the beast wanted to it could take it down, the Doctor being the first one to go down with it.

"I think it's going after Joe," the Doctor announced as the beast started heading off. Once he thought they were safe, he opened the door and peered out into the hall, seeing the body of Joe being dragged around the corner, "Leave him alone!" he called and went after.

"No, Doctor!" Avalon moved to follow when Rory yanked her back, "No, what are you doing? We have to go help!"

Rory shook his head and gripped her arm, "The Doctor can't split himself into three to save himself, you and Joe. Stay here, okay?"

Avalon huffed and looked back in the direction the Doctor had gone off in. Even if she wanted to make a run for it, the hotel would probably shift the hallways and mess with her. She would just get lost and cause havoc.

But she knew why Rory had stopped her in the first place, they all knew.

It seemed like the Doctor's paranoia concerning their safety being completely on him had not gone away. Avalon was the first and foremost one to feel the presence of his senseless guilt. She tried and tried to make him see that everyone was responsible for themselves, as well as the fact that they were all aware of the dangers that came with traveling, but nothing worked. In the end, she, Rory, and Amy just tried to be more careful during their trips in an attempt to help the Doctor a bit.

~ 0 ~

Joe's body had been placed on a small dais in the dining room and was being scanned by the sonic, meanwhile the rest of the group was a bit dispersed through the room trying to get over the happenings.

Amy and Rory sat at a table trying to forget everything but it was harder to do than they thought. They were quietly conversing but when Avalon joined them, they stopped.

"Okay listen up," she plopped down into the empty chair. "Remember how I told you about the Doctor and his guilt? Well, it's about to overflow. We need to be careful for his sake."

"We're doing our best, believe us," Rory sighed.

"I know, just...try a little harder?" Avalon shifted in the chair only to feel something funny in her pocket. She remembered she'd stuck the scrap of paper she'd found earlier into her pocket. "Oh, wait!"

"What?" Rory watched her pull out the paper.

"I found this earlier..." Avalon mumbled as she skimmed the writing. She jumped from her chair and hurried towards the Doctor, "Doctor, look at this. I found it in a corridor, I completely forgot I had it." The Doctor quickly took it out of her hands and just as he was about to read it, she surprised him with a kiss on his cheek. "It is not all on you," she said for his puzzled face. "Please try to remember that."

The Doctor smiled at her for a moment before turning his attention to the paper. As kind as her words were, he couldn't give himself the luxury of getting distracted with her sweet kisses. There was a beast roaming the hallways and she could be its next target. He needed to get them out of there fast.

"My name is Lucy Hayward and I'm the last one left. It took Luke first. It got him on his first day, almost as soon as we arrived. It's funny. You don't know what's going to be in your room until you see it, then you realize it could never have been anything else. I just saw mine. It was a gorilla from a book I'd read as a kid. My God, that thing used to terrify me. The gaps between my worships are getting shorter, like contractions. This is what happened to the others... and how lucky they were. It's all so clear now. I'm so happy. Praise him."

"Praise him," Howie said not a moment after the Doctor had finished reading out loud.

"What did you just say?" the Doctor looked at him with surprise.

"Nothing," Howie shrugged but it was obvious he was fighting against something, "Praise him!" he nearly shouted then clapped his hand over his mouth.

"This is what happened to Joe!" Gibbis said in alarm as he rushed away from Howie.

"God, it's going to come for me now," Howie panicked while the others spoke over one another, definitely not helping the case.

"You'll lead it right here," Gibbis accused in terror.

"I won't leave you, I promise, you have my word, "the Doctor assured Howie but the young man wasn't so sure.

"I don't want to get eaten!"

"Howie, calm down!" Amy tried her hand at it as well.

"He's going to lead it right here!" Gibbis kept saying in the background.

The Doctor had enough and so activated the sonic above his head creating a high pitched noise that made everyone stop, "Thank you!"

"Don't you see? He'll lead it right here!" Gibbis was the first one to speak again.

"What do you suggest?" Rita turned to him.

"Look, whatever it is out there, it's obviously chosen Howard as its next course. Now...tragic though that is, this is no time for sentiment. I'm saying, if it were to... find him," Gibbis 'delicately' said. "It may be satisfied and let the rest of us go." Everyone looked at him in horror. "All I want to do is go home and be conquered and oppressed, is that too much to ask?!"

"You're no longer allowed to speak," Avalon declared not a minute later.

"We stay together," the Doctor announced and walked up to Gibbis, "Your civilization is one of the oldest in the galaxy. Now I see why. Your cowardice isn't quaint, it's sly, aggressive. It's how that gene of gutlessness has survived while so many others have perished. Well, not today. No-one else dies today. Right?"

"Yes..." Gibbis mouthed.

"Brilliant," and the Doctor turned back and went for Howie, "Howie, any second, it's going to possess you again," he informed as he sat the man down at a table, "When it does, I'm going to ask you some questions. Please try to answer them."

"I hope my mum's all right, she's going to be w-worried..." Howie mumbled, slowly slipping into a change that was clear through his face.

The Doctor sat across him and put on an enthusiastic expression, "Howie, you're next, we're all dead jealous, so tell us...How do we get a piece of the action? Why isn't he possessing all of us?"

"You guys have got all these distractions," Howie tapped his head while smiling in a languid way, "All these obstacles. It'd be so much easier if you just let it go, you know, clear the path."

"You want it to find you?" Avalon realized with horror, "Why? Don't you understand what it's going to do to you?"

But Howie seemed even more excited at the thought of it, "Are you kidding? He's going to kill us all! How cool is that?!"

The Doctor quietly stood and led the others away from the table, "It's as I thought, it feeds on fear. Everything, the rooms, Lucy's note, even the pictures in reception, has been put here to frighten us. So we have to resist it. Do whatever you have to, cross your fingers, say a prayer, think of a basket of kittens, but do not give in to the fear."

"OK, but what are we actually going to do?" Amy asked him curiously.

"We're going to catch ourselves a monster," the Doctor announced with a genuine smile this time.

~ 0 ~

"Can't believe we're doing this," Avalon mumbled to Rory as they stood on guard of the beast.

They were standing outside the beauty parlor of the hotel, Rory with a mop in his hands. They were waiting to lock the beast inside the room where the Doctor was, something Avalon wasn't too pleased with. Once again, she hadn't been allowed to help him because it was "too dangerous" and "she might get hurt" and all the usual crap that had taken custom to being thrown at her. Apparently, locking a door was the only thing she could do without getting hurt.

"Is it really such a surprise?" Rory countered her remark with a small smirk.

"No, as well as the fact that I'm playing guard again," Avalon rolled her eyes, "The Doctor's getting crazy with this protectiveness," she huffed.

"He's trying to keep you safe, Ava. Appreciate it."

"I do but there's a fine line and I don't want him to actually lose his mind trying to protect me, you and Amy. He's too hard on himself."

Rory could agree on that but what was he supposed to do? The Doctor was the Doctor. He long ago made his choice how to act and think. There was no changing his mind after a near thousand years of living.

"Rory, he's in!" they heard Amy's shout from the other side.

Quickly, Rory blocked the door behind them with the mop. Together, he and Avalon stayed near in case there was something else needed to be done.

"He shouldn't be there on his own," Avalon mumbled as they waited.

"Now who's overprotective?" Rory teased and nudged her side, earning a mock glare.

Avalon groaned. She hated when he made sense.

"I'm here!" Howie's voice filled the hallway, "Bring me death!"

"How did he get out?" Avalon then smacked her head, "Stupid question!" she scolded herself, "Remind me, WHY why did we leave Gibbis with him in the first place?"

"That..." Rory looked to the side, "...is a very good question."

"Mhm," Avalon groaned and went back to the door, "We have to make sure this..."

"No, no, no, no!" she managed to hear the Doctor through the other, "Ava, Rory, watch out!"

The glass of the door shattered and sent Avalon and Rory down to the floor. They missed the beast getting the mop out of the door handles to get out. A couple seconds later came the Doctor with Amy and Rita.

"Ava!" he helped Avalon sit up while Amy helped Rory, "Are you okay?"

Avalon groaned as she put a hand on her head, "Does this mean I can't even be a guard, then?"

The Doctor was slightly amused as he helped her up, "You're meant to be my princess," he pecked her lips once he made sure she was alright, "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some saving to do..." He ran off after the beast to save Howie.

"What happened?" Rory looked back at the parlor where they could see basically everything shattered.

"I think we should be asking why Howie's out in the first place," Avalon shook her head, "I swear that alien is going to hear me."

"Okay, let's just go find the Doctor," Amy turned around and moved to walk. She only made it a couple steps down when she stopped and looked at a room, room 7, and instantly felt the urge to go inside.

"Amy..." Avalon was watching her curiously. Amy didn't listen and turned the knob of the door and peered inside, "Amy!" Avalon rushed down and slammed the door shut then yanked Amy back, "You shouldn't have done that. What did you see?"

"Nothing," Amy slowly got back to normal, "Nothing...I don't know, it was weird."

"C'mon," Rita called from the other side of the hallway.

Avalon sharply looked at Amy and grabbed her arm to get back with the others. They found the Doctor kneeling by Howie's body, instantly knowing the man was dead.

From around the corner, Gibbis showed himself, meekly speaking, "He got free. He overpowered me," the Doctor ignored him as he strode back to the others, "It might leave us alone now. Maybe now we'll be safe. Wait!"

~ 0 ~

The Doctor stood in front of the wall pictures they'd looked at earlier, specifically Howie's. Rory came to join him and immediately the Doctor had to wonder, "Have you found your room yet?"

"No, no," Rory shook his head, "And neither has Ava. I have to wonder, though, is that good or bad?"

"I believe the phrase went 'Avalon Reynolds does not get afraid'," the Doctor smiled, "Maybe she got that from you."

"I used to be afraid," Rory shrugged, "But then...after all the time I spent with you in the TARDIS, what was left to be scared of?"

The Doctor sharply looked at him, "You said that in the past tense."

Rory was silent for a few seconds until a sigh slipped through. "My family. River's out there, in prison, and we have Avalon here but...she's already gotten so hurt. My biggest fear now is what could happen to my family."

The Doctor swallowed hard. That could directly be linked to him. "I'm trying to keep everyone safe…"

"I know," Rory turned to him. "But it's like Avalon said, not everything is on you. Sometimes things happen and no one can prevent them."

The Doctor could only nod but to believe him right now was a difficult task. He instead moved away from the wall to go meet the others. On his way, he met Rita halfway there. "Rita! Brilliant! How are you? Not panicking, are you?" But he didn't wait to hear the answer when he continued, "Good, good. Because I am literally an otter's toenail away from getting us out of here."

"Why?" Rita finally managed a word in.

"Excellent question," the Doctor acknowledged but instead went around her, "Excellent question," he remarked but stopped once he realized he had no idea what she meant, "Why what?"

"Why is it up to you to save us? That's quite a God complex you have there."

The Doctor looked down to where Avalon and Amy were downstairs, "I brought them here," he said quietly, "They'd say it was their choice, but offer a child a suitcase full of sweets and they'll take it. Offer someone all of time and space and they'll take that, too. Which is why you shouldn't. Which is why grown-ups were invented."

"All of time and space, eh?" Rita called as the Time Lord continued his way down.

"Oh, yeah," he glanced back, "And when we get out of this, I'll show you, too."

Rita laughed, "I don't know what you're talking about. But I have a feeling you just did it again."

The Doctor nodded then noticed a security camera up on the corner, " Right down to the smallest detail. Got you, Mr Minotaur..." he dashed down the stairs and made note to head to the cameras' room.

Avalon was hurrying down the stairs with Amy and Rory, all trying to locate a missing Rita, when suddenly Avalon stopped in a hallway. She didn't know why but...something stopped her. She took a few steps forwards, ignoring Amy's and Rory's call back at the staircase to follow them. They'd continued on without her.

Suddenly, all the doors on both sides of her faded so that only one door stood out. Number 51. Her feet moved and before she even registered what she was doing, her hand found the doorknob and pushed the door open.

The room was a bright white with a medical bed and the standard IV pumps: a hospital room. Avalon saw a woman's back as she sat on the bed holding an infant in her arms. There was a nurse waiting for the woman on the side.

"What will you name her, ma'am?" the nurse inquired.

"Don't care," the mother answered rather coldly.

It certainly took the nurse by surprise. "Excuse me?"

Avalon could see the mother's head rising to meet the nurse. "I said I don't care. She's a nuisance. I don't want her here, I don't need her, so if you could just..." The mother held the infant out for the nurse.

"Ma'am, this is really unusual," the nurse was flabbergasted. "Are you sure you don't want to think about naming-"

"I don't care!" the mother snapped. "I don't want her! Take her! Put her up for adoption or something!"

"But I-I don't...ma'am if this is really what you want, we need a name-"

The mother groaned. "You want a name? Fine! Go with, uh, Avalon! There! You got a name, now take her away!"

Avalon watched as the nurse pulled the pink blanket from the infant's face to reveal a soft tuft of orange hair. Her breath hitched. That was her?

"TAKE HER!" The mother yelled at the nurse, making the woman jump in her spot. "God! Not even her father wanted her and I am not going to be stuck with her! GO!"

The nurse jumped one more time before rushing out of the room...right past Avalon.

"That can't be me..." She said as if she was trying to convince herself.

At the sound of her voice, the mother looked back and though Avalon met her gaze, she couldn't say that she remembered the woman at all. But she knew the look of hatred when she saw one.

The mother's face contorted with utter loathing. "Don't tell me it's you! God! What the hell do I have to do to get away from you? Haven't you taken the hint already?"

Tears pooled in Avalon's eyes as the woman kept shouting at her to leave the room. "You can't...you can't hate me..."

The mother barked a sardonic laugh. "I do! because you were a nuisance from the start! From the moment that I knew you existed! I knew you that you were going to be a waste of space and I decided that I didn't need that in my life. You could be someone else's burden!"

"But I'm your daughter," Avalon barely choked the words out. She felt like she couldn't breathe and suddenly she really wished she could have a hug from that woman. Her mother.

"You're a waste in the world," the mother snapped. "You were born to cause trouble. I had the right idea to get out before you hurt me. Tell me, have you hurt anyone in your life?"

Avalon blinked once and suddenly she was no longer in a hospital room. There was a breeze and sand and water...and a gunshot. An astronaut had fired at the Doctor until he was dead on the ground.

"NO!" Avalon screamed at the top of her lungs and ran forwards.

'Have you hurt anyone in your life?' The wicked mother repeated over and over. 'Have you hurt anyone in your life?'

The astronaut pulled off its helmet just as Avalon came to a stop beside the Doctor's body. It was her. It was a straight, emotionless her who turned away and disappeared.

"I didn't mean to, I wouldn't..." Avalon hands went back and forth while she decided whether or not to touch him. "I wouldn't hurt you, I wouldn't hurt you..."

She just couldn't, not him, never him.

~ 0 ~

In the dining room once again, the remaining group sat in a dispersed manner contemplating their next move, all in the meanwhile the Doctor was finishing up a rather big tantrum. To say he was unhappy would be the understatement of the year. Three people were dead and the next one could be anyone and so far he had nothing to save them. This was becoming a running theme for him and his good streak of luck could end at any moment. This time could be the time he loses someone, Amy, Rory, or Avalon. It always happens, at some point something has to happen.

Avalon cleared her throat, pushing aside her own turmoil at the moment to focus on the big picture. She didn't want him to find out about her room. "I may be temperamental but even I know throwing things isn't going to help," she said quietly. The Doctor gave a small nod and took her extended hand, "So why don't we review, instead?" she offered and looked around, "We know the beast preys on people's fear and possesses them."

"But Rita wasn't afraid, she was brave and calm," the Doctor said in pure frustration, "Maybe it's something to do with the people, some connection between the four of you that'll tell me how to fight it."

"Yes. You keep saying that, but you never do. And while we wait, people keep dying," Gibbis remarked in irritation, "And we'll be next!"

"Look, he'll work it out, he always does," Amy spoke up, "Just let him riff and move anything expensive out of his way."

"Oh, nice, Amy, support the tantrums," Avalon threw her a mock-scolding face.

"We support yours," Amy countered with a small smirk.

"Hey!"

While the two gingers went back and forth, something had sparked inside the Doctor's head, something of Amy's, "Oh, no. Oh, no, no..." he started repeating.

Avalon looked at him, worried, "What? What is it?"

"It's not fear. It's faith. Not just religious faith, faith in something," he got to thinking and even pacing, "Howard believed in conspiracies, external forces controlling the world. Joe had dice cufflinks and a chain with a horseshoe. He was a gambler. Gamblers believe in luck, an intangible force that helps them win or lose. Gibbis rejected personal autonomy and is waiting for the next batch of invaders to tell him what to do. They all believe there's something guiding them, about to save them. That's what it replaces. Every time someone was confronted with their most primal fear, they fell back on their most fundamental faith," he sat on a barstool and rubbed his face as he realized, "And all this time, I've been telling you to dig deep. Find the thing that keeps you brave. I made you expose your faith. Show them what they needed."

"But why us? Why are we here?" Rory frowned in confusion.

"It doesn't want you. That's why it kept showing you a way out. You're not religious or superstitious, so there's no faith for you to fall back on."

"Me?" Amy was next to frown, disliking what had just been said, "Why me? Why not her?" she glanced at Avalon.

"It seeks out the strongest faith," the Doctor explained but Avalon interrupted him with the revelation that she had seen her own room as well. It seemed like hiding it wouldn't be happening anymore.

"I saw it," she whispered, eyes downcast. "It was there...number 51."

"Oh Ava," the Doctor immediately came to her and wrapped her up in his arms. She wanted him to hold her as tight as possible. "I'm so, so sorry," he whispered to her. He wouldn't ask what she saw just as he hoped that she would never ask what he saw in his own room.

"Okay but if Avalon saw a room too...how do you know it didn't bring us here because of her?" Amy had to ask just for the sake of clarity. She would much rather have the beast come for her instead of Avalon.

"Because I don't have a strong faith system," Avalon said. "I don't believe in hope very much. I'm like you, Amy, in that I know my Fairy Tale Man will always try to save me but I also know that he's not always able to do everything. That would just be unrealistic." She leaned her head against the Doctor's chest. He tries his best, though."

"I will always try," he whispered to her.

"Okay, so...what's going on with me then?" Amy questioned, swallowing hard now that she was next on the list of the hunted. "

"It's your faith in me," the Doctor sighed and looked at Amy who was staring at him in horror, "That's what brought us here."

"But why do they lose their faith before they die and start worshipping..."it"?" Rory inquired.

"It needs to convert the faith into a form 'it' can consume. Faith is an energy, the specific emotional energy the creature needs to live. Which is why at the end of her note, Lucy said..."

"Praise him," Amy said, and finished.

"Exactly," the Doctor nodded and for a moment no one realized what...

"Did she just...?" Avalon's eyes widened.

"No. Oh, please, no," Rory stood up from his chair and moved to Amy, and already they could hear the beast coming for her.

~ 0 ~

Now the group ran as fast as they could down the hallways, away from the beast who wasn't that far away. Amy suddenly stopped and turned to face the beast.

"Amy?" the Doctor had noticed and looked back.

"What the hell are you doing?" Avalon hissed, "Get over here now!"

"He is beautiful," Amy hadn't heard a word as she gazed upon the beast getting closer.

"Leave her! Just leave her!" Gibbis nearly begged as he backtracked.

The Doctor and Rory hurried over to Amy and dragged her away. They ran into a room that happened to be Amy's. Inside was her younger self sitting on her suitcase as she waited and watched the window, simulating the night she had waited for the Doctor.

"Boy does that bring back memories," Avalon blinked. To think, she had scolded Amy for being so naive for waiting for an alien that they would probably never see again. Now look where they were?

Amy knelt to the floor with her hands on her head, "Doctor, it's happening. It's changing me, it's changing my thoughts."

The Doctor looked around the room in desperation, Avalon and Rory were trying to keep the door shut and Gibbis was cowering once more. He had to do something, and that something would cost him. Slowly, he knelt beside Amy, "I can't save you from this, there's nothing I can do to stop this."

She looked at him in confusion, "What?"

"I stole your childhood and now I've led you by the hand to your death. But the worst thing is, I knew. I knew this would happen. This is what always happens."

"It's in!" Avalon cried as the beast swung open the door of the room.

"Forget your faith in me," the Doctor insisted to Amy, flinching as the beast growled at the doorway, "I took you with me because I was vain, because I wanted to be adored. Look at you. Glorious Pond. The girl who waited for me. I'm not a hero. I really am just a mad man in a box. And it's time we saw each other as we really are," he kissed Amy's forehead and smiled at her, "Amy Williams. It's time to stop waiting," he stood up and watched the beast stumble back into the hall.

As the beast fell to the floor, the lights began flickering, the room changing into a darker one with just a control panel and the TARDIS.

The Doctor moved over to the beast and knelt down by it, "I severed the food supply. Sacrificing their faith in me. I gave you the space to die. Shhh, shhh."

"What is this place?" Avalon looked around in awe.

"The real location we've been in this whole time," the Doctor looked around as well, "A ship, a prison ship."

"And what is it, a minotaur?" Amy looked at the beast, "Or an alien? Or an alien minotaur? That's not a question I thought I'd be asking this morning."

"It's both, actually," the Doctor walked to the control panel and checked the screen for any information, "Yeah. Here we go. Distant cousin of the Nimon. They descend on planets and set themselves up as Gods to be worshipped. Which is fine, until the inhabitants get all secular and advanced enough to build bonkers prisons.

"Correction. Prisons in space," Rory pointed to the porthole he and Gibbis were looking through.

"Where are the guards?" Avalon asked.

"No need for any. It's all automated," the Doctor gestured to the controls, "It drifts through space, snatching people with belief systems and converts their faith into food for the creature."

"It didn't want just me," Amy decided to point out, "So, you must believe in some god or someone, or they'd have shown you the door, too. So, what do Time Lords pray to?"

But of course, the Doctor had acted as if the question had not been asked, "According to the in-flight recorder, the program developed glitches. It got stuck on the same setting, the fears from the people before us weren't tidied away."

Avalon turned to the beast as it growled, "It's still alive...but what's it saying?"

The Doctor listened in as he moved closer to the beat again, "An ancient creature, drenched in the blood of the innocent, drifting in space through an endless, shifting maze. For such a creature, death would be a gift," he knelt down and put a hand on the beast, "Then accept it. And sleep well," he stood up and started his way back to the TARDIS with the others when the beast growled again.

"I wasn't talking about myself."

That alone was the making of a big decision.

~ 0 ~

Later that same day, Avalon was rummaging through her room frantically. It wasn't until there was a knock on her door that she finally halted, "Come in!" she gave the shout and continued her search.

The Doctor stepped inside and watched her for a moment, "What...are you doing?"

"I can't find my journal!" she sighed in irritation as she slammed shut a drawer from her vanity desk, "The thing's gone! Disappeared!" she rubbed the side of her head, "You wouldn't have happened to see it, did you?" her tone was full of hope.

"Now that you mention it, yeah, I think so. In the console room," the Doctor held a hand for her, "Want to come and search there?"

"Yes," she nodded and took his hand, "I don't understand, I know I left it in my room. I put it on my desk on the first drawer. How could it get into the console?"

"You probably just forgot," the Doctor shrugged, "No big deal."

Avalon scoffed, "This coming from the man who loses it completely when his screwdriver isn't in his pocket."

"Oi, it's valuable!"

"Well, so is my journal," Avalon concluded. As soon as they entered the console room Avalon started searching frantically again, missing the sad stare the Doctor was giving her all the meanwhile, "I don't see it, are you sure you saw it around here?"

"Uh, yeah, silver book," the Doctor nodded, "Definitely in here..."

Avalon made a face and sighed as she continued looking around. She was getting agitated that her journal wasn't showing up. She couldn't just lose it!

"Ava," the Doctor recognized her angry face and he definitely didn't want for her to be angry now. He slowly moved around the console for the ginger, "Ava?"

"Hm, what?" she muttered while looking.

"Don't be upset, please."

"How can I not be!?" Avalon growled as she stopped the search, "You gave me that journal, you spent time on it for me...and I lose it? No! I have to find it, I'll find it, I promise."

The Doctor smiled and put a hand under her chin, "Don't worry so much."

"How can I not? Not only is it my prized possession but it's also a sentimental gift from you," she said quietly, "I don't want you to think that I'm careless about it."

The Doctor had to laugh at that one, "You? Careless about your journal? Ava, I could never think that. If there is one thing you care for it's that journal. Sometimes I think you care more for it than your own life!"

"It's special..." Avalon mumbled with a small pout on her face for being laughed at.

"But none more special than you," the Doctor gave her a peck on the lips, "And, just a note, you are very special."

"Shut up," she blushed lightly.

"Why? I'm saying the truth," the Doctor put an arm around her waist and brought her up against him, "Ava doesn't like hearing praises about herself?" he chuckled as she blushed even deeper.

He was going to miss that.

"You just love messing with me, don't you?" Avalon groaned.

"Don't you do the same to me?"

"Yes...but it's cute when I do it," Avalon innocently shrugged, "And besides, usually when I do it you get one of these," she kissed him, "So everyone wins."

"Everybody wins?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow, "Just like that?" Avalon nodded with a clean smile on her face, making him chuckle again, "You're so adorable. I..." he slowly wrapped his other arm around her as well and leaned closer to her.

"You what?" she asked in anticipation.

The Doctor raised a hand to rest on her cheek and gazed at her for a minute, taking note of all her features to remember them perfectly when she was...

"Doctor?" Avalon asked again, "You what?"

But the Doctor didn't answer as instead he chose to kiss her. Satisfied with the alternative, Avalon fell into the kiss. Gently, the Doctor turned her around and leaned her on the console, deepening the kiss. Avalon had never felt a kiss like that and if she hadn't been so into it she would've questioned it.

"Where did that come from?" she finally took a breath after they'd pulled away. "And how can I get that to happen again?"

The Doctor laughed lightly. "You have no idea the power you have over me." He rested his forehead against hers, bringing up a finger to stroke over her cheek. "You're my princess, my Ava. I love you."

Avalon smiled. "I love you too, Fairy Tale Man."

They both heard footsteps coming from the corridors and looked in time to see Amy and Rory walking out.

"Ah, glad you're both here," the Doctor straightened up and took Avalon's hand, "I have a surprise for you two," he looked at the human pair.

"You do?" Amy raised an eyebrow, confused. She thought with the trip earlier all he would want to do was stay inside the TARDIS.

"You'll like it," he assured as he turned for the console and started setting in coordinations, gripping Avalon's hand tighter than ever as he knew what was coming.

~ 0 ~

The group stepped out into a sunny, calm, Earth, street. There were colorful townhouses in a row across them with a park on the other side.

"Don't tell me. This isn't Earth, that isn't a real house," Amy nodded to one of the houses they were approaching, "And inside lives a goblin, who feeds on indecision."

"Good one," Avalon laughed.

"Nope. Real Earth, real house," the Doctor tossed Amy a set of keys, "Real door keys!"

"You're not serious?" Amy looked between him and the keys.

"The car too?" Rory was hypnotized with the bright red car in front of them, "But that's my favorite car! How did you know that was my favorite car?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes as he reminded Rory, "You showed me a picture of it once and said, 'That's my favorite car'," he tossed Rory the car keys.

"Wait a minute..." Avalon was slowly putting pieces together, at least in regards to Amy and Rory, "...you're doing this be-" but the Doctor placed a finger over her lips.

"We'll talk," he gave a smile, a fake one, "Can I have a word with Amy, first?"

"Okay..." Avalon whispered and nodded. The Doctor gave her a small kiss and turned her for the house that now belonged to her grandparents.

"I'll go with her, there's a tone to celebrate," Rory happily said but stopped beside the Doctor before actually leaving, "Now, Amy's probably going to we can't accept this because it's too extravagant and we'll always feel a crippling sense of obligation," he looked over his shoulder to Amy, "It's a risk I'm willing to take!" he laughed and went after Avalon inside the house.

Amy leaned against the bonnet of the car and patted the spot beside her, "Hey," she called to the Time Lord, "So... You're leaving, aren't you?"

"You haven't seen the last of me," he assured, "Bad Penny is my middle name! Seriously, the looks I get when I fill in a form..."

"Why now?"

"Because you're still breathing," the Doctor quietly said, falling serious.

"Well, I think this is about the washing-up, personally," Amy remarked, making them both laugh a little, sadly. She stood off the car and glanced back at the house, "And Avalon? What happens to her?"

"Amy, you know the Silence is still out there. I can't...I can't keep acting...I can't keep pretending like I don't know what's coming," he swallowed hard.

Amy studied his expression, waiting for him to say more, but she soon understood what he was struggling to say...and it broke her heart. "Oh my God, you know." The Doctor avoided her gaze but his silence was answer enough. "You know about Lake Silencio."

"Knowing what's coming...I cannot and will not have Avalon around for that. I'm her Fairy Tale Man and I would rather die than put her in danger. If the Silence wants me, then let them have me but they will not touch her. Never again."

"I understand, I do, and I'm very grateful you're thinking about her safety but leaving her behind on Earth...don't you think that's just as dangerous?"

"No, I'll have eyes on her. I'll give Jack and Martha a call, I'll be in touch with a slightly older River Song. I'm keeping Avalon safe until...until I figure out how to defeat the Silence. Either Kovarian dies, or I will." The Doctor straightened himself up, standing by his words, and reached inside his jacket to pull out Avalon's silver journal. He had taken it from her room to avoid having to explain to her why she needed to bring it out of the TARDIS right now. He brushed a hand over the cover. 'A.H.R.' was still shining brightly as the day he carved it. Avalon Harmony Reynolds. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl who deserved to live out her days in peace.

He held the journal out to Amy, willing her to take it. "Tell her she can be anything she wants to be. She's the impossible girl, after all. Been doing the impossible ever since she was born."

Amy took the journal from him and nodded. "You don't want to say goodbye to her?"

"If I see her again, I won't be able to leave," he confessed with a heavy sigh. "I love her too much and that's my weakness. If she asks me to stay, I'm going to stay." And he couldn't do that to her. His room had shown him the consequences if he continued to ignore the future. He would die before he had to hold Avalon's dead body in his arms.

"She's going to continue asking so many questions..." Amy said sadly, choosing to understand his motives as the best option for all of them.

"Answer them. Answer everything she wants to know, even about River."

Amy suspected that wouldn't happen anytime soon. Avalon had no interest in learning about her biological mother. "Listen, if you bump into River, whichever version you meet, you tell her to stop by because her daughter's going to need her."

"Will do," the Doctor promised and gave her a quick hug.

"Look after yourself, please," Amy said, watching him backtrack to the TARDIS. He opened the door, glancing back at Amy who already had tears in her eyes, "Bye," she waved.

The Doctor waved back and entered the TARDIS, soon de-materializing. Of course, that happened right about the time Avalon and Rory had stepped out of the brand new house.

Avalon, who'd been carrying glasses in her hands, dropped them to the ground and hurried down the steps as she saw the blue box disappearing, "What happened!? Where's he going!?" She ran up to Amy.

"He's saving us," Amy said quietly and held her journal out.

Avalon swallowed the lump that'd formed in her throat. "No…" If he had left that then it meant he'd left all of them for good. "No, Amy, don't...don't give me that…"

"I'm sorry," Amy tried giving her the journal but Avalon threw it to the side, as hard as her strength allowed.

"He can't just leave me! He can't...the Silence wants him!" Avalon yelled with tears in her eyes. "He can't be on his own!"

"Ava…" Rory wanted to touch her but she backed away from them.

"You don't get it!? Kovarian wants him to be alone! He's going to do something stupid and I'm...I'm stuck here!"

"He's trying to save us all," Amy stepped towards her.

Avalon directed a rather furious glare on her. "How could you let him go like that!? I told you! I...I need to find him!" She clapped a hand over the watch on her wrist. "I love him, he can't just do this!"

"Avalon-"

"NO!" Avalon screamed. "Don't...I have to find him! He doesn't know - he doesn't know that I could still be the astronaut! That's what was in my room! I'm the astronaut and I kill him! The Silence can't have him! I'll drown myself first before I ever put on that astronaut suit!"

"Avalon, please calm down!" Rory wanted to catch her but she was backtracking further from them, completely hysterical.

"Leave me alone!" She turned away and ran off. She had to go find the Doctor before the Silence found him first.

#ocappreciation #doctor who #11th doctor #fd: doctor who #dw #11th doctor fics #11th doctor imagines #doctor who imagine #dw imagine #dw fics #oc: Avalon Reynolds #fic: falling in temptation

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amandaoftherosemire · 5 years ago

Text

Bulletproof -- Epilogue

Fandom: Marvel/College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,405

Format: Series (Complete)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied smut.

Summary: Years later, Bucky wakes up alone. He thinks about how he got there before a surprise distracts him.

A/N: I’m so proud to have something completed. (You guys, seriously, I’m such a flake in my regular life. There are people that would be astonished to hear that I’d finished something.) That being said, I am really sorry to be done with this story. I loved writing every part of this. The angst made me cackle like a wicked witch and the fluff made me squeal like a girl. I’m a ridiculous creature when I’m writing.

Thank you so much to everyone who read this story, whether you’ve been with it all year or just found it last week. Every like, every comment, every reblog, means the world to me. I love telling stories and knowing people read and like them is what keeps me going.

I have to give a special shout out to @hellzzzbelle both for being my beta for the first few chapters and for the banner that I’ve used on every single chapter. She’s a peach and I will love her forever.

Part Fourteen here

Epilogue

Bucky woke in complete and utter blackness, his hand closed around the sheets on your side of the bed. It didn't matter how long you'd been gone, how he exhausted himself before falling into bed, or how deeply he slept, he still woke reaching for you every single day. If he'd already been yours the day you finally claimed him, the years together after that had only cemented your hold on him.

No matter how long you’d been gone, he still ached for you like you’d left yesterday. He still turned to talk to you constantly, still thought of you a thousand times a day; anything, no matter how mundane, could remind him of you. The cereal aisle had set him off last week when he’d spotted the Cookie Crisp and he'd remembered how you'd often teased him about his immature stomach.

He rolled over onto his back in the absolute dark, wondering what time it was. He had the day off and no plans, so he hadn't set an alarm. You'd installed the blackout curtains the first year of his residency, stating that if he was only going get three hours of sleep a day, they should be of the highest quality. Thanks to that complete lack of light, however, it could be two in the morning or the afternoon as far as he could tell. Knowing you weren't there made it hard to get up and find out.

He snagged the pillow from your side, burying his face in it, irritated to find that it had almost lost the scent of your hair. He’d known better than to sleep on it so many times, but he’d missed you so damn much. Some days, the days he didn’t have a shift in the ER, or someone like Sam or Nat hadn’t decided he’d burrowed long enough and barged in, it was all he could do to make himself get up. It was hard to find the energy when he’d find nothing but an empty apartment outside the comforting dark.

If you were still here, he’d cheerfully climb out of bed to go looking for you. If you hadn't gotten up much before him, he'd most likely find you in the kitchen, looking for caffeine. He’d once dreamed of finding you at the coffeepot, being allowed to slide his arm around your waist and bury his face in the crook of your neck. Over the years, he’d not only made that fantasy a reality, but a habit.

Bucky never took for granted the hum of pleasure you’d make as you’d tilt your head to give him better access to the soft skin of your shoulders, or the feel of your body pressing warmly back into his. His favorite days, you were still in your robe, the same one you’d had in college. The robe that had ended up on the kitchen floor more times than Bucky could count. The robe that had become weirdly enshrined in your relationship due to its place in the early days of your romance.

The robe that even still hung in the closet, because you hadn’t taken it with you when you left.

Or perhaps he’d find you on the couch the two of you had picked out together, surrounded by papers and books if you were studying or working from home, a book in your hand if you were relaxing. You'd look up at him and, without fail, your face would spread into a welcoming smile and you'd make room for him next to you. He wondered now if he'd ever told you how that smile made his heart skip in love and gratitude every time.

Picking out the couch itself had been an adventure, the two of you each with your own set of priorities for furniture. You’d been concerned with things like color, décor, stain repellant fabrics, etc. as well as comfort, but all Bucky had cared about was whether it was big and comfortable enough for when he inevitably made love to you on it.

With a lot of good-natured teasing and mock exasperation, the two of you had managed to find something that ticked all the boxes, a dark brown, soft, deep, and wide sofa. You’d spent hours upon hours hanging out on that couch, enjoying each other’s company, making love. Bucky had always thought the best part of being in love with his best friend was the conversation as the sweat dried and skin cooled.

He tossed aside the useless pillow and rolled to his side, burrowing under the covers. He didn’t know why he was torturing himself with memories of when you were still here, when he’d wake with you next to him, your scent in his head, your taste on his lips. He also knew he was feeling sorry for himself but couldn’t seem to stop. He started to guess at the time and calculate time differences.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of light as the bedroom door opened and closed so quickly that, were he asleep, it couldn’t possibly disturb him. Bucky lay still, wondering if he'd fallen back to sleep as the only person he knew who had practiced that move often enough to become that adept at it was currently on the other half of the planet. There was no possible way he was awake.

He held his breath at the slight draft as someone slipped between the sheets and smoothly eased over until soft skin was pressing against his, a gentle arm sliding around his waist. Warm breath wafted over the skin across the back of his shoulders, sending goosebumps shivering over his body. His breath shuddered out, his heart pounding in fear and excitement.

“Is there a reason you're pretending to still be asleep?" you whispered against his back, the amused bafflement you felt at his utterly still form coloring the tone. "Or are you not happy I'm here?"

"If I move, I'll wake up and you'll disappear," Bucky whispered back, not entirely joking. "I miss you too much, so there's no way you're actually here."

"Considering how many hours I spent traveling over the past twenty-four hours," you retorted, your voice dry as dust, "I better fucking be here."

Bucky closed his eyes in relief. He'd dreamed of you so many times over the past months, but those dreams had been soft and filmy or raw and heated, featuring your tender heart or powerhouse body, not, as much as he loved it, your smart mouth.

Bucky burst into exuberant movement, tossing the blankets up and rolling over quickly to pull you, laughing, into his arms to squeeze you tight, his heart pounding in delirious joy. “You sure fucking sound like you’re here.” He made you giggle, sniffing at your neck and hair as he hummed happily. "Mmm, you feel like you're here." When he found your mouth with his own in the dark, he sank in, overjoyed to hear your hum of pleasure as he welcomed you home.

You were already breathing harder when he broke the kiss to lean backward, groping for the switch on the lamp beside the bed. He squinted even against the low illumination, but he turned back to look into the face he loved above all others, the face he'd only seen in a window on a computer screen for what felt like an eternity but was, in fact, more like seven months.

You were resting said face on his shoulder, your eyes tired from the exhaustion of traveling halfway across the world, but your smile sparkled with love and happiness. "Yup, looks like my girl, too," Bucky murmured as his hand came up to trace the line of your jaw with his thumb. "Except," he went on, frowning, "this might be a dream," he took your chin in his hand and tilted your face back and forth, making your lips twist in amusement, "because I’m almost positive you're prettier now than when you left, and I'm also almost positive that was impossible."

Bucky's pretty face melted into the sweet smile that charmed you as no other could. You couldn't stop the sigh that escaped you in response to both his tender expression and his flattery. You never knew when he was going to tease or taunt, the push-pull of your personalities part of how you'd beat the odds. It hadn't been easy, but you'd managed to stay together through years of education, building two demanding careers, and most recently long distance. You believed in your heart that the secret was remembering to express your love, every day, and to laugh together, every day. Best was when you combined the two.

"Sweet-talker," you murmured as you slid your arm around his neck to bury your hand in the hair he'd let grow to almost his shoulders. Tousled from sleep, stubbly, and a little hollow-eyed from overwork, he was, somehow, always, the sexiest man you'd ever laid eyes on. The sparkle of the solitaire on your finger made your heart race every time the light caught your eyes, so excited were you to claim him forever. Bucky had rolled his eyes even as his cheeks had pinked up when you complained that men didn't wear engagement rings, because you didn't think it was fair that everyone could see that he loved you but not that you loved him, too.

Wanting to hang a sign on him to proclaim dibs wasn’t completely insane. The man had only gotten hotter every freaking year. He got hit on at work on a near daily basis; only your absolute confidence in him kept you from melting down into an insane jealous rage some days.

"I love the surprise," he murmured as you drew his face slowly down to yours. You were thinking you had just about enough energy to bang him before the jet lag got to you. "But I wish I’d known so I could take some time off while you’re here."

"That IS the surprise." You ran your hand through his hair, brushing your lips against his, “I'm not going back.” Your face lit up in a smile so radiant he thought his heart would burst from the beauty of it. Not only home, he thought in relief, his throat aching, but home to stay. He slid his arms around you, one under your shoulders, the other around your waist, to hold you as close as possible as his mouth took yours in a kiss as passionate as it was joyous.

Once your mouth was free again, you used it to suck at the skin of his neck, knowing it drove him crazy. “Okay,” you said against his throat as you started shoving at the thin white t-shirt he’d worn to bed, “that’s not strictly accurate.” Bucky pulled back to look at you with anxious eyes, terrified to have his happiness ripped away so soon. Your hands came up to cup his face to reassure. “I have to go back for a couple of weeks in a few months, but other than that, I'm home for keeps.”

You giggled when he squeezed you tight enough to push the air out of your lungs. “Really?!” The exclamation was both incredulous and relieved. “Really really? Oh!” Bucky let you go to flop onto his back with a dramatic thump. “Thank god!” he shouted at the ceiling. He lifted his head to look at you when you lay across his chest to grin into his face, chin on the back of your crossed wrists. “I have been lying my ass off for months. I was not okay without you.”

Your face softened into a loving half-smile. "I know. Sam kept me posted."

To be clear, it had been a text from Sam begging you to come home and put him out of his misery that had prompted you to start taking steps to get home as soon as possible. Please, y/n, I can't take another six months of this mopey bastard, his exact words.

Bucky's arms came around you to run his hands over your back, running his hands up under the hem of your t-shirt. "That traitor." His voice was a growl, irritated that Sam would sell him out. Even still, he couldn't stop smiling helplessly at you. He couldn't see your face, feel you in his arms and not smile. "I didn't want you to know. It was such an opportunity for you." His irrepressible smile twisted sadly. "I didn't want you feel bad, least of all to cut it short, just because I'm a whiny bitch."

You pushed yourself up until you were laying on his chest, half on top of him, your face a breath from his, upset that he'd misunderstood. "It's okay! I didn't!" You kissed him quickly, then pulled back to grin tiredly at him. "Shuri's not just a worker bee; she's a madwoman." You shook your head, thinking of the young scientist with whom you'd gotten a once in a lifetime chance to collaborate. "Seriously," you laughed, "Tony was a cakewalk in comparison. She was perfectly happy to overwork with me so I could get home to you faster."

That made Bucky's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Three months faster?" he asked, disbelief coloring the tone. "How much did you overwork?" He'd been drinking in your face, but with the eyes of a lover. Now he started looking at you with the eyes of a doctor and could see the signs of sleeplessness and missed meals.

You rolled your eyes, but your mouth was twisted in a warm, wry smile. You knew why he was mad at you, knew you'd be equally mad if he'd neglected his health for you, but you couldn't regret it for a moment. Not when you were laying almost on top of a man unreasonable in his beauty, a man that you could personally attest only got better with age, like fine wine, or great cheese, or 16-bit video games. Whatever it took to get you here was worth it.

Even still. No reason to be a martyr about it. Your lips twisted again, this time with heat. "Enough that I really must insist that you dote on me for at least a week," you replied, your eyelids lowering in the shy, sultry look he'd fallen for the first time he saw it. In all the years, it had never lost its punch, its power.

Steve had once painted you as a melancholy mermaid; that painting now hung in Steve and his wife's living room. He’d given the Faerie Queene to Gamora. She'd taken it with her when she'd moved to Washington D.C. after her election to Congress. She'd always wanted to change the world for the better; her cutthroat mindset had already made her enemies, and the beginning of a name.

Bucky's dryad hung in his office, and he'd gone in there every day since you'd left to remind himself of the look of your face, alight with love and happiness. Robin Goodfellow hung in the bedroom you shared, where you'd gotten him through the loneliest times.

But to Bucky, you'd remained his Puck tempting him into mischief with a dare. He'd never tried to resist, not that he'd never wanted to.

And he certainly wasn't going to start today.

With a grin and a growl, his arms were banding around you to drag you close even as he rolled you under him. You held on with a happy giggle, delighted to let him take care of you. As he went about using his years of experience and familiarity, as well as the desperate passion of fond absence, to coax you first to pleasure, then to ecstasy, you soaked it up like parched earth in a summer storm.

Less time than he would have liked later, he lay entwined in your arms, forehead against yours, out of his head and out of breath. He'd feel worse about it, but to be fair he'd been without you since you'd come home for the holidays over six months ago. He couldn't believe he once worried that he wasn't cut out for monogamy. Nearly a decade later and you still left him wrecked.

You stretched with a happy hum and nuzzled your nose and mouth against his as you ran your hands over his skin in an instinctive need to remind yourself of the sensory experience of being loved by Bucky. Sometimes he could be overwhelming in his almost hedonistic approach to expressing his love for you. Today was not one of those days; you were as hungry, as desperate as he.

Bucky nuzzled back with a purr, reveling in the feeling of your hands combing through his hair. The sensation of your nails scraping his scalp had him feeling like he was a randy twenty-year old who only needed five minutes to recover for another bout. Worried about the exhaustion around your eyes, however, Bucky rolled off you, keeping his arms around you to keep you close. You draped yourself across him once more, your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat a pure contentment.

The rumble of his voice made you smile even before you heard what he was saying. "I am never going to hold you back but, babygirl," at this Bucky squeezed gently, "if you need to go somewhere, I need you to take me with you."

Your eyes softened in both affection and remorse. "You know I would have if I could."

Wakanda had begun to open itself to the rest of the world, but the nation was still very insular. General Okoye, the head of the royal guard, had accepted your presence in the palace due to your one-on-one work with Princess Shuri. However, your proximity to the people she'd vowed to protect had made her deeply uncomfortable with the idea of you bringing a plus one.

After discussing it, you and Bucky had decided it was too phenomenal an opportunity to risk offending your hosts. He'd stayed behind in New York while you'd gone to Wakanda, for what was supposed to be a year, to collaborate with the greatest mind on the planet. Combining your work on connecting both the body and the brain to prosthetics with Shuri's work on, well, everything, but vibranium in particular, the two of you had designed a new arm for Bucky.

You were supposed to stay for the manufacturing, but Shuri would be sending you video instead. You could hardly wait to see it yourself, let alone show it to Bucky. You were practically beside yourself in excitement, because you knew how amazing it would be when it was completed.

Bucky's expression turned horrified. "I know it, baby; I'm not saying that." He turned further onto his side to snuggle closer to you, pull you into his arms. He kissed you gently and smiled gratefully. "I'm just saying I missed you like goddamn crazy."

You pressed your cheek to his and closed your eyes, basking in the knowledge that you were home where you belonged, in the arms of the man you'd love your whole damn life. "I missed you, too, Bug." You said it on a sigh, the sound both happy and relieved and Bucky knew you felt what he felt. Everything had been askew, but now that you were here, his world had righted again.

"When I have to go back, do you want to go with me?" You smiled, already knowing what the answer would be. "General Okoye no longer objects." Your voice turned smug. "She likes me. I think it's because I worship her, but she likes me and said I could bring my man next time."

He gathered you close, enfolding you in thick, brawny arms and a wide chest. "Fuck, yes, I want to go," he answered, his tone disbelieving that you'd even ask. "And of course she likes you." He released his own sigh of contentment, then grinned at himself. "Now," he said in a low, warm murmur, "you said something about doting on you?"

You shook your head back to give him a lecherous eyebrow wiggle. "Is that what we’re calling it?"

Bucky laughed but shook his head in mild exasperation. "Y/n, I was thinking you need food and sleep."

"Yeah, alright." You bobbed your head agreeably. "I can get behind that." Your expression shifted back to that lecherous leer, humor making your eyes sparkle and making Bucky's heart skip a beat. "After you get behind me."

Much later, Bucky found you at the coffeepot, in your old silk robe, the colors faded but still beautiful to his eyes, pouring a cup of fresh coffee. Feeling like the act was a balm on his soul, Bucky came up behind you, sliding his arm around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck to smell the unique scent he could find only there, a scent that was indelibly written on his memory. He breathed deep with a hum of pleasure and contentment, the press of your body against his incredible in its simple joy.

"Coffee?" He spoke against the skin of your neck, his lips sending delicious shivers down your spine. He'd tried to exhaust you with pleasure the second time he'd made love to you. He'd succeeded, but you were stubborn. "Don’t you need sleep?"

"I don’t want to sleep yet." You set the cup on the counter and turned in Bucky's arms to slip your arms around his neck and pull yourself close. He responded by enveloping you in his arms, surrounding you in his body, his scent, his warmth. You sighed in contentment. Bucky hadn't been the only one who'd had an excruciatingly difficult time with the separation. You would never be sorry that you'd taken such an opportunity, not only for your career, but also just for the experience. That didn't mean you hadn't wished he was with you on a near-constant basis.

Bucky heard the contentment, but also the dragging fatigue. "Rest, then," he rumbled in your ear, seeking to persuade. He could feel in the slight sway to your body how tired you were. "Let's go cuddle on the couch and watch a movie."

You loosened your arms a fraction so that you could pull back and glare suspiciously into his face. You couldn't stop looking at him, touching him, reveling in the reality of him. "For someone who missed me so much," you noted, eyes narrowed, lips twitching, "you sure are interested in the concept of me, unconscious."

The corner of Bucky's mouth lifted along with one eyebrow as he scoffed out a laugh. "I much prefer you awake, babygirl," his arms tightened around your waist and his head dipped to yours to kiss you quickly, "for that especially, but I'm worried about you." His voice turned gently wheedling, "Besides, I could use the rest, too. It was what I planned to do today anyway."

Your eyebrows lifted as your eyelids lowered, giving you a skeptically unamused look, though Bucky knew your face, no matter how long you'd been away, and he could see the humor in the set of your lips. "You planned to cuddle with someone on the couch and watch a movie?" you asked suspiciously. (After this long, the last thing you'd worried about when leaving was Bucky's faithfulness. He'd murder a puppy before he'd cheat on you.) Your face relaxed as you tilted your head. "Was it Sam?"

Bucky rolled his eyes as his laugh rumbled through him. "What can I say?" Losing patience, he bent to put his arm behind your knees and scooped you up to carry you. "His arms make me feel safe."

"I can see that," you allowed as you leaned out of Bucky's arms to snatch up your cup of coffee from the kitchen counter. Once you had it cradled against your chest to minimize the risk of spilling, you settled against Bucky's chest and let him take you to the couch. "Okay," you continued as Bucky set you down, "we both know I'm gonna nod off and I don't want to sleep away the whole of your day off." Bucky used the pillows you'd piled on the couch to make a bed on which he could hold you. "Don't let me sleep too long."

Snuggling you into the curve of his body, he pressed his nose to your hair and breathed deep. Your couch was deep enough that the two of you could lie comfortably together if he spooned you. Bucky grabbed the remote to put something on for the drone of noise, hoping to put you to sleep. "You're the boss, babygirl."

Bucky dug in his pocket when his phone vibrated. He'd typed out a quick text before he'd gone looking for you, asking his closest friend from work if she could take his shift tomorrow so he could spend the day with you. He wanted you to sleep as long as you needed, but he also wanted to spend hours talking to you, reveling in the reality of you.

When he saw her affirmative response, he relaxed into the pillows, curling more fully around you. "Christine sends her love. She took my shift tomorrow."

At the sleepy "Yay!" you released, Bucky chuckled softly as he closed his eyes in bliss.

You hovered at the edge between sleep and awake, too comfortable and content to stay awake, no matter how you wanted to. The reason you wanted to was the same reason you couldn't, the man in whose arms you rested, cradled safe against his chest like something both fragile and precious. For all his care and concern, however, he never let you doubt his absolute confidence in you. As far as Bucky was concerned, there was nothing you couldn't do.

That show of unconditional faith and support, combined with the unshakeable love he'd given you from the beginning, had helped give you the courage to leave the man you loved and all of your friends and family to work halfway across the world. How could you doubt yourself when he was so certain you could do it?

You fell asleep in his arms, his body curved protectively around you, as you relaxed into the feeling of utter safety. In an odd roundabout way, James Buchanan Barnes had, by loving you with his whole heart, made you bulletproof.

The End

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deckyshep · 4 years ago

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Sweet as a Rose

Original Short Story by R.D. Shepard Written 2020 August 4 Content Warnings: Family, closeted gay relationship Summary: Warren Glenn is a live-in farmhand working for the Rose family farm. One day, the youngest son, Benjamin Rose, visits the family home for the first time since his move to New York City five years prior. After a nice family dinner, the two find something in one another they haven’t found in anyone else for a long, long time. Comments: I wrote this a few months ago, but edited it recently when I felt awfully lonely. There’s nothing that picks me up and dusts me off like gay love. 💛

It was a quiet afternoon in late August of 1953. The leaves on the oak tree just outside the Rose house were yellowing, some already orange and ready to fall to the ground as the nights grew cold and windy. Warren Glenn, a long-time stable hand working for the Rose family’s home and their farm, sat outside on the old rickety porch, eating a quick omelet dinner before he’d head out on his horse to round up the longhorns. Warren was a fit man at twenty-six, though the scruff on his face and the crows’ feet around his deep green eyes made him look a few years older. With his long, curly, black hair pulled up behind his head and his sharp jaw, he knew he would’ve been caught and cuffed quickly by somebody’s daughter if he hadn’t been brought up as a farm worker, evidenced by his deeply tanned skin.

The mother, Catherine Rose, sat inside, sewing up the pairs of trousers he’d ripped over the past few weeks – she chastised him for it every month, but there wasn’t much he could do when he was doing half the work on the farm. Hell if he knew where the older brother was, either – Leon had said something about trading in town up north.

Once the eggs were down his gullet, he made his way back inside, washing his plate in the sink and wiping his hands on his pants and starting for the door. “I’m rounding up the cattle, missus. I’ll be back before dusk.”

“You got that gun on you?” she asked from the living room, peeking around the corner from her chair.

“’Course I do,” he answered, feeling the pistol at his hip. “I’ll be careful. Leon should be back soon if you need anything.”

“Alrighty, baby. I’ll send him after you if you ain’t back before sundown.”

Warren laughed a little at that; Catherine had really taken a liking to him. He walked out the front door and headed to the stables, where Delilah, the black-maned quarter horse, was drinking water from her trough. He opened the door to her stable, scratching under her chin for a moment before pulling his riding gear from the chest at the back of her quarters. Once she was saddled up, he climbed up on her, situating himself before kicking her off.

While rounding up their cattle was a boring affair, it only got worse when their old beagle, Rusty, died last May. Still, it gave him motivation to focus while he was herding them back from the plains – too often did he lose himself in thought, only to lose half the herd within minutes. The longhorns weren’t too aggressive this season, thankfully.

After hours and hours of slowly riding along the borders of the herd, he finally made it back to the ranch, rounding them up past the heavy iron gates of their pasture. He locked the gate tight, making his way past the house to the stable – until he spotted big, bearded Leon on the porch, talking to a younger man a few inches shorter and at least half Leon’s weight. His clothes looked eastern, and though he looked like he’d been travelling for weeks from the bags under his eyes, the pretty blue bowtie around his collar and its matching suspenders looked crisp and untouched. He’d just gotten off a blond draft horse and was petting the creature’s mane at the bottom of the porch steps while he talked with Leon. Leon caught his eyes and tilted his head toward the stables, and Warren narrowed his eyes, bringing Delilah back to her stable and undressing her before locking her up and heading back to the house.

“Good timing, Warren,” Leon exclaimed, winking at him as he approached the porch. “Need to introduce you. B.J., this is Warren Glenn. He’s been helping out around the farm while I’ve been settling shit before heading out to Louisiana with Marcie. Warren, this is my little brother.”

Now that Warren was right up next to him, he could see the family resemblance. The young man – Benjamin, possibly? He couldn’t possibly like being called B.J. – had the same blue eyes and flaming red hair as Leon, though his freckled face was clean-shaven and, to put it politely, babyish. (His long, shaggy hair pulled up in a low ponytail didn’t help much, either.) Strangely enough compared to his family, he seemed more a city boy than anything with his professional little getup. “Howdy, sir.” Felt a little weird calling this young man “sir,” but he had to be nice.

The younger brother laughed a little, holding out a hand to shake – his voice was soft and warm, a stark difference from his brother’s gravelly tone, and he still had a bit of that southern accent lilting his words. “Just call me Benny. Nobody calls me ‘sir’ but my clients.” Warren shook his hand, finding that Benny had a surprisingly good grip. “Good to meet you, Warren. I’m sure you’ve got your hands full lately.”

“I don’t mind it, Benny,” Warren grinned, clasping his hands behind his back. “Good pay, good people.”

“No need to lie for my sake,” Benny snorted, crossing his arms. “I know they’re all crazy.” Leon huffed, landing a playful punch on Benny’s shoulder. “Kidding, I’m kidding. Missed being around the farm.”

“You didn’t even send a letter ahead,” Leon retorted, narrowing his eyes. “What’d you come out here for?”

Benny gave a pitiful smile. “Just wanted to surprise Mama. I know it’s been a minute since I showed up.”

“What’re you doing up in New York, again?” Leon asked, cracking his knuckles. “You’re a boss or something?”

“Executive administrator of manufacturing and development for… well, half the ports in NYC,” Benny explained, dumbing it down with a small laugh as soon as he saw the unamused look on Leon’s face. “I manage the factories making equipment big shipping rigs need to cross the Atlantic. Too much paperwork, lot of boring Christmas parties. But at least I got enough money to live, y’know?”

“Figured you were a city boy,” Warren commented quietly, a hint of a smile showing on his lips. “How’d a young guy like you land a job like that?”

Leon laughed with his whole chest, slapping his arm around Benny for a second. “Young? B.J.’s almost thirty.”

“Almost thirty? I got five years still, jackass,” Benny chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Warren’s eyes widened, and he lowered his head. “Sorry, Benny. Didn’t mean to offend.”

Benny tilted his head, smiling a little. “Didn’t hurt me none. I know I got a baby face, but Leon hogged all of Papa’s beard-growing capabilities.”

“Speaking of parents,” Leon started, looking toward the front door, “you gotta go see Mama. She’ll lose her marbles.”

“Right,” Benny replied, then nodded at Warren. “Again, real good to meet you, Warren. Might as well get cleaned up for supper while we’re at it.”

Warren glanced out to the sky, realizing the sun was already halfway past the horizon. “Good call.”

***

Supper was surprisingly nice with the whole Rose family around. Catherine made chicken stew, and Benny described New York City like Warren always thought it was – a huge, bustling city with towering buildings and thousands of businesses. While he was always curious what was on the other side of the fence, Warren wasn’t sure he’d like living in such a busy place.

When Benny took the dishes to the kitchen to wash them, Warren took the opportunity to head out of the house; he needed to clear his head after being surrounded by so many people. He sat on the porch for a while, watching as the crescent moon slowly rose in front of the millions of stars dotting the night sky. He needed a cigarette too badly, but he’d been trying to quit for ages, and a couple of weeks ago, he’d done the damn thing and just didn’t buy anymore. Still, his leg bounced nervously, and he kept bringing his empty fingers up to his face like he was going to take a smoke. What a shitty habit.

After a good half hour, he heard the door behind him open and close gently. Benny walked down the steps, sitting down next to him quietly. He didn’t speak for a while, merely enjoying the view of the bluish night sky and the moonlight dimly reflecting off the fencing lining the dirt road heading north. Then, he leaned to the side, resting his shoulder against the stair’s balustrade. “I miss it sometimes.”

Warren glanced over at him. His blue eyes were practically shining in the moonlight. “Being home?”

“Being in the country.” Benny looked at him out the corners of his eyes, smiling. “It’s so quiet out here, y’know? Nothing but the wind rolling over the grass. Maybe a creak here and there from the house. I sleep like a baby when I come home, even after all these years.”

Warren leaned back, resting his elbows against a higher step behind him with a soft grin. “Ain’t nothing better than miles and miles of quiet, Benny.”

“I know.” Benny was silent for a few seconds, then he sighed. “Thank you. For taking care of my family. I… I left because I wanted to do them proud, y’know? I got a college education, I make good money, a lot of which I send back to them once a month, I take care of myself… But I know it ain’t enough.”

Warren’s expression went somber, and he reached over, patting Benny’s thigh. “But this life here… It’s not what you wanted, was it?”

Benny shook his head, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I wanted more than filling the food troughs every morning at the crack of dawn. I wanted to make something of myself. And I’m doing it.”

“Then I think it’s enough.” Warren leaned back again, smiling warmly at him. “Yeah, your family misses you. But I think they know you were meant to do something else.”

Benny returned the smile, lowering his head. “You ever think like that? For yourself, I mean. You ever get restless out here?”

“Sometimes,” Warren replied, glancing out at the moon in the distance. “But I love what I do here. I think about living in a big city, and it just seems… lonely.”

Benny chuckled a little, turning to him. “Lonely?”

“So many people running around, but you don’t know them from the coop.” Warren took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. “I like my cohorts to be as close as I can get them.”

Benny leaned against the higher steps beside him. “As close as you can get them, huh?”

Warren glanced over at Benny, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks, and he looked back down with a grin. “Yeah.”

Benny looked over his face for a moment, then looked away with a shy smile. Then, he stood. “I wanna show you something, Warren.” Warren raised an eyebrow, but Benny motioned for him to follow as he started walking away from the house, and he jumped up to his feet, following.

Walking the small dirt path that connected to other similar paths leading to the stables, the cow pasture, and the unused barn, Benny made his way down the barn path with Warren behind him, the sounds of their quick steps over the dirt being the only audible noises in the night. Benny made a turn around to the back of the barn, Warren hurrying to catch up, until the younger man stopped at a small door in the barn. Entering the door after Benny, he spotted him ahead, quickly climbing up a ladder along the inner wall. “Wait up,” Warren whispered harshly, starting up the ladder.

When Warren finally reached the top, he spotted a long, thin platform along the back of the barn. In the center was a wooden balcony jutting out a large window, which was cornered by the roof at the top. In the center of the balcony were two long haybales pushed together, as though to make a bed. Walking out to the balcony, he saw Benny leaning over its balustrade, staring out into the distance.

Warren stepped up beside him, resting his elbows against the railing. “Never thought there was anything up here.”

Benny let a hint of a smile grace his lips. “Papa and his brothers built this barn from scratch. They added this little balcony so they could enjoy a beer or two after a hard day’s work.” He looked straight down, tracing his fingers around a nail in the wooden railing. “Used to come up here when I was younger. Mama grounded me when she thought I was sneaking girls up here, but I never snuck anyone but myself into this barn. Girls were too prissy for me, anyway.”

Warren chuckled, watching Benny’s face as he looked over the land before them. There was something magical about the way the moonlight glinted off his eyes. “Never found myself fond of them, either.”

Benny gave him a knowing gaze, turning to face him as he leaned against the railing. “I knew you were a good-looking man, but now I know you’re a sensible one, too.”

Warren pursed his lips, looking him up and down for a moment. Then he stood up straight, stepping just a smidge closer. “You coming onto me, Benny Rose?” he murmured, his hand finding Benny’s on the railing.

Though it was dim in the moonlight, Warren could see the blush come to Benny’s ears. “Only if you don’t tell my mama,” he replied quietly, pulling his hand away only to trail it up Warren’s arm.

Warren gave a soft grin, reaching up to brush a loose lock of hair from Benny’s face. “I’ll keep all your secrets if you let me kiss those pretty lips.”

Benny laughed, resting both his hands on Warren’s chest. “Sounds good, cowboy.”

#rdshepardwriting #gay #mlm #short story

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stuff-i-like-to-share · 5 years ago

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Fanfics i would Love to read but not talented enough to write them myself...

.... fanfics... or even better if that was actual scenes in season 4!

1. Gilbert seating on the train writing a draft of his letter to Anne, getting emotional, passionate not noticing old lad seating next to him with his wife looking at eachother smiling at young love. Telling him a short story of their love and how they have been separated and how they would suprise eachother by visiting every now and then.

2. Anne talking to Diana and deciding not to tell anyone about her and Gilbert before she actually speak with him... which later on will pay of in girls faces when they see them kissing lol

3. Anne receiving her first letter from Gilbert and being over the moon, sending her own letter straight away and meeting young intelligent boy at the post office which turnes out is at queens aswel.

4. Gilbert and Anne meeting new people, having their lessons and studies and writing little notes to add their letters, collecting little flowers, making it very personal.

5. Gilbert being jealous over this new boy which Anne mentioned in 3 letters already. Doing extra work to finish his studies few days earlier to travel to Charlottetown and see Anne.

6. All girls seating outside, learning, talking romance, Anne and Diana giving eachother side looks because nobody knows about Gilbert yet... Anne getting very emotional she havent seen Gilbert in 2months while Ruby talking about daily walks with Moody.. her eyes tear up, girls are like ohh r you ok Anne when one of them look up from their blanket and bw like: oh, Gilbert whatever you doing here...

Anne jumped up straight into his arms, he swings her around in a massive hug, then they about to kiss, tios of their lips about to touch when Diananotice Girls faces and goes like: uhmm

Gilbert and Anne look at all the suprised girls, get a bit shy, Gilbert let's Anne out of his tight hug and they stand there looking at eachother for short while, Gilbert is like: ladies... if you dont mind I would like to steal Anne for a... looks at Anne not knowing what to say, but she finish his sentence for him: tea! There's certain matters we need to discuss with Gil... with Mr. Blythe... she says while looking at Gilbert's dreamy eyes... Girls being so confused and shocked by whole situation just nods while they walk out through back gate.

7. The moment they are away enough from girls and the boarding house Gilbert swing Anne in the air again with the cutest smile, she laughs, then they step to the side of little quiet road and he kiss like theres no tomorrow...

Talk about their studies... then walk past tea house and Gilbert is like, oh we are here and Anne look at him with a cheeky smile... shes like oh we are not really going to have a tea are we.. its dull and full of boring people.. Gilbert laughs at memory of being awkward with Winfred at one of them tea houses.

Anne takes Gilbert to one of her favourite parks, they walk by the water.. theres a small patch of grass surrounded by trees, Sun sneaking through the branches, they are finally alone and kissing and cuddling... they sat on the grass talking, laughing, simply staring into eachothers eyes... they lie down cloud gazing playing with each hands, hair...

8. Gilbert walking Anne back to her house, talking about leaving to Avonlea and telling everyone, both but stressed about their families reaction... they stop by the gate to avoid Anne getting kn trouble, hold eachothers hands. Gilbert's is like: so... we are... courting? Its official! Anne gives him a shy smile: I still cant belive it... Gilbert gives her a soft kiss and tells her he will come and see her at queens next day so the can travel together back to Avonlea.

9. Anne back to her room where she is immediately flooded by questions from all the girls... You kissed him, he kissed you in public, oh that's nothing like Gilbert we knows.. Anne stands there waiting for them to calm down and simply just say: I'm in love with Gilbert Blythe for a while now, and what I recently been informed about, hes been (she srops realising he never actually said he loves her...) ... having feeling for me aswel, for a while... we will be seeing our families tomorrow as we are offering courting.. girls get all hyped, asking questions if hes a good kisser Ruby throws a little comment that she actually always was confused when she thought hes looking at her but it was more like he was staring at Anne and that shes happy for her...

(Sorry... long list... I didint realised km so needy and desperate for fanfics 🙈)

10. All Anne can think if at school is fact that she is going to see Gilbert very soon and they will travel together back home...

She bumped into her friend, Roy which btw also have feeling for her and jokingly often admits he thinks Anne's is the most beautiful girl at queens etc... which Anne is ignoring as all she thinks of Gilbert and studies.

They walk out of school together, Roy lean and whisper somwthkng into Anne's ear, she laughs and notice Gilbert, wave at him, theyvwalk towards eachother. Gilbert's jaw is pulsing, hes jealous. Anne introduces them to each other and Gilbert have a little flashback to when he was introducing Winnie to Anne and disint know how to refer to Winfred, Anne did almost the same thing as it's actually first time she have to introduce Gilbert as her bou. Boys shake their hands bit stronger than they should, Anne says goodbye to Roy and her friends, Gilbert then offers her his arm to hold on to while looking at Roy standing and watching them walk away.

11. Gilbert is bit confused and worried, he isnt talking much on the way back, Anne is so excited shes doing most of the talking.. she noticed Gilbert acting wierd and asks, he then have tiny emotional tantrum and tells her he doesnt like the way this Roy guy is into her... she laughs and tells him theres nothing there, beside the only person she cares about... she ... loves its Gilbert.. he smiles, hold her hand... she then get a bit worried because its been 3 times when she said it out loud she loves him and Gilbert didint say it back.

12. They decided to invite Gilbert's family for dinner to Green Gables and then tell them together so when they get out of the train and see Matthew they being careful not to look to excited. Matthew offer Gilbert a ride back home and noticed little looks between Anne and Gilbert.

13. The dinner ready, Gilbert, Bash and Deli arrives at Green Gables, all the way Bash was giving Gilbert side looks with a cheeky smile and asking what so important they have to go to dinner tonight and not some other day... Gilbert just smiles and says its was Anne's idea on their way back from train station.. Marila opens the door calling for Matthew and Anne..

Anne come downstairs, Gilbert gets up with the most hearty eyes, theyblook at eachother for a while, and everyone e in the room glance at Anne then Gilbert, Marila and Bash look at eachother with a smile, Matthew looks a little bit concerned...

14. Anne stand in the middle of the room, Gilbert walks to her with a smile, turn around and stand by her side, they look at each other with a shy smile, he then pick up Anne's hand and while holding it dearly in his both hands he say something like: Marila, Matthew, Sebastian... Delphine (with a little smile as she giggle at he uncle)

We have some news, I mean... I would like to ask your permission first, ofcourse... uhmm

I would like to ask your permission to court with Anne... uhm... we recently discovered we both... have feelings for eachother... (Anne give him a concerned side look as again he wont say he loves her)

I needs to know if you Marila and Mathew gives us your... blessing..

They look at each other, Marila stands up, walked to them, hold their hands with tears in her eyes saying that shes so happy for them and their happiness and love is what matters... Bash alsongwts up and hug Gilbert with biggest smile saying he knew it and that he is so happy for them.. Anne then looks at Matthew which looks a bit sad.. gilbert then says: Matthew?

And hes like: if Anne's happy I am aswel, gets up and shakes Gilbert's hand, Anne hugs him.

15. They all seating alntalking, laughingnover the dinner table, Anne playing with Deli and Gilbert joining her, Matthew and Marila getting emotional as this is another big step towards losing their precious Anne.

16. Bash joking around, quietly saying to Marila about them behaving like perfect parents. Matthew then walking out but emotional.. Both Anne and Gilbert looking at eachother, Anne wanted Ringo but Gilbert telling her to stay and walking out behind Matthew. Then having a heartwarming conversation, telling Matthew how much he cares for Anne.

17. Anne kissing Gilbert goodbye and Bash seeing it, making comments about it on their way back home.

18. Anne and Gilbert going for walk... Gilbert being cheeky and keep touching Anne's hands, hair, face... talking about feeling when Anne suddenly tear up and tells him she wants to go back home, take a turn thru the woods, Gilbert all confused ran after her asking what's wrong, She then have a little go at him that shes scared he dowsnt really love her because it's been months and he never actually said he loves her... he then loom into her eyes, hold her face in his hands and tells her: I am in love with you Anne, my Anne with an e, I'm in love with you since i remember, it's always been you Anne...

He kiss her then and after the kiss shes all like: but why dont you say it..

He looked at her with sad eyes: I'm afraid of losing you Anne, most of people I ever loved are gone... I cant lose you Anne, I... love you to much, it hurts just thinking about losing you...

He seats on fallen tree, tell her a story of his mothers death while giving him birth, of his brothers dieing one after another to illness... then his father.. and dear Mary... he opens up and cry while she listens and hold his hand.

She then tells him how much sorry she is for being selfish and forcing him to say it, but he wont mind as it's been a while since he could open up like this and it feels so right to talk to his Anne.

They hug and talk about how Mary would be happy for them, Anne recalls his father and fact he said he herd alot about her and Gilbert getting all shy saying he told him alot abt Anne because even then he would not stop caring about her, back then he wasnt sure what it was, it was pulling him towards Anne, only recently he realised it's always been love...

Then they say it together and laugh...

19. As they are walking out of the forest Anne tripped and fall into a ditch, Gilbert laughs recalling the day Marila was talking about Anne in the ditch, asking her if that's how her adventures looks like and as shes a bit upset with him at first she also laughs saying he is her biggest adventure now...

20. Then as he helps her out, they stand and laughs, he gives her a soft kiss, Rachel Lynde watches it from nearby as she was just walking back from ms. Stacy's...

All shocked she rushed to Green Gables to talk to Marila... Markla gives he a little talk about being young and in love and maybe if she would listen to her heart she would be married now... as they talk Anne and Gilbert walks into the kitchen laughing... they both look ar Rachel bit scared of her comments.. but she gaze at Marile for short while thinking, then she gets up, walkes to them and congratulate them with a little cheeky comment about kissing...

21. They are back to their schools, emotional and full of love goodbyes, girls sneakily watching them and giggling...

22. Series of letters, Roy finding one of Anne's letters she left in one of her books he borrowed... then making a declaration.. Anne feeling overwhelmed as she does like Roy alot and woildnt want to ruin their friendship... bit of an argument between Anne and Gilbert, Roy trying to kiss her and she slapping his face...

23. Christmas back in Avonlea, together one big happy family... Anne and Gilbert sneaking out at night to spend time together... kissing and rolling in the barn...

24. Anne having a flashback from orphanage and Gilbert asking what's wrong, atvfitstvshe doesn't want to tell him but one night they talk and she opens up and tells him everything, about being bullied and treated like trash... about her imagination helping her get trough... about how broken she always felt and never couldn't even imagine being loved, and having so many loving people in her life... she would tell him about how worried she was her parents have her away because they disint love her as she was an ugly redheaded baby... Gilbert then kisses her single messy braid and tells her how much he loves her red hair and how much he Hope's their children will have same hair as her.. she then freaks out a little because she never actually thought about children and the way Gilbert talks it sounds so natural for him... she then look at him with a smile: out babies?

And gilbert is like: oh gosh, I I didint meant to scare you... but.. dont you think about... our future Anne? Coz I do.. alot he admits with a bit shy face..

She then say she only imagine their future together but she never actually thought about children... he get a bit stressed but then she adds that now he mentioned it, she also is looking forward to having a child, maybe two... they laugh and joke about it a little ... Bash and Ms. Stacy get married which course outbreak but after several years of secretly meeting and falling more in love they decided to go against the system. She ends up losing her job as a teacher but she writes books and articles to newspapers instead while pregnant with their first child. She also moves in with Bash his mother and Deli as Gilbert told Bash that after school he wont be living with them anymore. Elijah moves out as he met lovely girl himself, got married and lives outside Charlottetown, visiting them often and always helping with the harvest.

25. New years eve, theres a ball, dancing, beautiful scenes of them having fun together... Gilbert taking Anne back to green Gables.. he turn towards the cliffs... they walk together to the cliffs end, stand there looking into stars, he then drop on his knee, holding a ring, a beautiful ring and ask her to marry him, which she obviously say yes to.

26. Time skip with a bit of letters between them and their lives at school etc... suprised visits and going back home..

Matthew having another heart attack, being bed stuck, Jerry rushing to get a doctor but it's to far and they wouldn't make it, Matthew dieing with Anne and Marila by his bed... Gilbert coming to Avonlea back from his practice next day, Bash tells him what happened,bhe rush to Green Gables and Fojnd Anne in awful state.. Jerry explain to him he went to fetch the doctor from other town but it was to late... he apologise to Anne for not being here, she tells him it's not his fault... but he feels responsible for not being close to his family... he decides to come back and be a town doctor after all his school and practice is finished...

28. Anne after getting approval from mrs lacroix (stacy) applied and got the job as a teacher in Avonlea school, helping Marila as shes still very unstable after losing Matthew.

29. Then beautiful wedding in Avonlea... Marila crying.. Anne missing Matthew dearly.. lots of memories, laughs and dancing...

30. When Anne got the job as a teacher she also got the house ms Stacy useto lived in, she decided to stay at green Gables until theh get married but she got the house already for them week before the wedding.

They get back home, to their very own home, Anne is so happy it's in the woods as she always felt special connection to nature...

They have wonderful night and sweet love making, both happy in eachothers arms, enjoying the rest of their life together...

Gilbert suggest to Anne that she could write a book same as ms Stacy which she starts very next day...

31. Another skip in time... Anne giving birth, Gilbert doing his best, baby is breached, hes scared of losing Anne, of losing them both. Marila is there aswel... Baby is finally born but it isnt crying... Gilbert pass the baby to Marila and take care of Anne... she walks out quickly to check on the baby as therws still not a single cry in the house, Anne is bleeding alot, but asking for her baby... he walked in to the kitchen Marila standing there crying, he take baby if her hands and wrap aswel, their very first baby, product of their undying love didint survive the labour... he hugged his child pressing him to his chest, kissed his head... he then walked back to Anne's room... Marilenherd loud moan and deep desperate cry, shes crying herself... Gilbert asked if Anne wants to say her goodbyes. She said yes and hold her baby in her arms crying... they gold a little funeral two days after... Anne is devastated... her and Gilbert having a breakdown together crying...

32. Two years later Gilbert find himself worrying for his wife's life once agin... it was hard for them to decide tontryvfor another baby... Anne wanted it and now Gilbert is scared to death about his Anne and baby to come. Luckily this time everything went smoothly with mo single complication, baby cries and they both hold it together crying of happiness.

Then years later Anne writing another book, while their children are playing together outside of green Gables... Marilas dying wish was for Anne ro have Green Gables, it was her home and she wanted Anne and her family to live happy life in there...

Gilbert is backnfeom work, they seat on the porch, drinking tea, looking at eachother with hearty eyes, talking about their achievements kids keep running up to them, hugging and kissing them. They smile, stand up watching their 6 children being cheeky.

I love you Carrots...

I love you to Gil...

Then they kiss with even more passion than ever...

The end...

Gosh that possibly the longest post I ever wrote... when I started I had only abt 15 ideas... but as I wrote more and more... even more ideas came to my head... sorry for a long bit messy read... just wanted to share some of things that kept me awake since we found out about s4 being cancelled...

Anyway.... hope you enjoyed it... sorry for any mistakes... will proofread tomorrows as today its been a while since I started writing this...

#anne shirley #anne of green gables #anne #anne with an e fic #anne with an e #anne x gilbert #anne with an e s3 #anne with an e season 3 #anne with an e spoilers #awae edit #awae spoilers #awae #awaeedit #awae fanfic #awae fandom #awae fic #awae ff

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anthropologicalhands · 5 years ago

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ceg fic: impressionism (what completes this picture of me and you)

title: impressionism (what completes the picture of me and you) characters: heather & valencia, beth/valencia, heather/hector summary: Valencia admits that she once had a crush on Heather notes: not totally sure how happy i am with this fic, but at this point it has been sitting in my drafts for literal months now, so out it goes. Ao3 Link

In Heather’s opinion, one of Valencia’s best qualities is her willingness to throw herself wholeheartedly into her ventures.

Granted, Heather usually prefers to observe the hurricane from a comfortable distance, rather than letting herself get swept up in it all. But, on occasion, she doesn’t mind braving her way into the eye of the storm.

Like right now, when she is seven months pregnant and less chill than she has ever been in her life, Valencia showing up unannounced and armed with rose, apple juice, and her cosmetics bag is unequivocally a good thing. It’s been a while since they’ve been able to hang out, just the two of them. Hector is nice and Heather loves him and she’s happy he’s been here for her during the pregnancy, but sometimes his niceness is just too much, and almost as annoying as Rebecca’s casual thoughtlessness. In contrast, Valencia’s straight-shooting, take-no-prisoners determination is a gift.

Even better: unlike the people Heather is living with, Valencia is observant, and notices changes around her without Heather having to point them out.

“What’s going on with Estrella?” Valencia pauses in front the aquarium on her way back to the sofa, bending down to get a closer look. “She looks different.”

“That’s ‘cause she is different,” says Heather as she reclines on the sofa with her feet propped up, doesn’t bother to look up from her phone.

“What do you mean?” Valencia asks, perching on the ottoman to resume painting Heather’s nails. She’s been looking more relaxed recently, Heather finds herself thinking idly. Probably the result of a series of fortunate events—the small but tangible successes so necessary to building a business. Heather bets that taking on Beth as a partner has probably helped ease the stress.

And, well, also the fact that Valencia is now definitely getting some on the regular. There is no way that there isn’t a net positive effect of some kind.

“I mean that she’s a whole new starfish,” Heather explains, wincing as the Rebyl spawn punctuates her statement with a two-beat kick.

Valencia’s concentration doesn’t waver, but her eyebrows arch up high on her forehead in surprise, followed by a deep sigh of resignation. “Again? Seriously?”

“Yeah. At least this one looks more like the original Estrella, so I didn’t know it happened until this week, because last week was Rebecca’s turn to take care of her.”

Valencia purses her lips, shaking her head in disappointment at Rebecca’s carelessness. “Wow. I’m surprised you’re not more upset.”

Heather shrugs. “I probably should be, but I already got angry at the shower this morning for the wrong droplet-to-skin-volume ratio, so it’s not worth working up the extra energy.”

“That sucks,” says Valencia sympathetically, looking down at her handiwork, forehead wrinkling in concentration.

“It really does. These pregnancy hormones are sending my reactions totally out of whack. I am noticing, like, everything is too much, like this dress is super itchy and you still smell like Beth’s perfume from yesterday. I know that sounds creepy, sorry, but I can’t help it,” she adds, responding to Valencia’s weirded-out expression. “And to make things worse, now I’m missing other things. Like, stuff I actually care about.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I used to be able to tell things about people before they even know it. Like a wolf. I learned a lot about wolves before I dropped my wildlife biology class. Did you know that they can tell if a person is pregnant even before they know it themselves?”

“That must get awkward.”

“Right?” Heather asks, letting her head fall against the back of the sofa so that she is staring right up at the ceiling. “But I’m not like that anymore – I used to be a wolf, and I knew things, but now I’m a pregnant wolf and I know nothing. Which doesn’t make any sense.”

Valencia’s eyes have gotten almost comically round as she follows this train of logic to its conclusion. “Oo-kay,” she says after a brief pause, setting down the bottle of violet nail polish and taking up the setting. “Speaking of Rebecca, you’re channeling her pretty hard right now.”

Heather rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s because she keeps texting me about the gestational periods for different mammals and it’s like, getting really annoying. I don’t care that elephant pregnancies last for two years, I’m human and I want it out now.”

Valencia’s head jerks up and she stares at Heather. “Two years?”

Heather gives a slow nod. “Yep.”

Valencia wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Ew.”

“Right? But it’s true.”

“Weird. Does Rebecca just know these things off the top of her head or is she Googling random animals every few days?”

“Who knows? But I’ll admit that she does follow up with cute videos of the respective baby animals, so that kind of helps, but only because my baby brain is really dumb and easy to please.”

“I mean, cute animal videos will do that,” agrees Valencia seriously.

Heather hums her assent. “But seriously, my powers of observation are gone. I’m missing out on the subtle social cues that tell me about drama. And you know I love drama.”

Valencia hums her agreement, and they lapse into a comfortable silence. Heather texts Hector a non-negotiable request to pick up non-dairy milk and any bath products that might possibly have lavender in them.

“You’ll be back to normal and picking up drama in no time,” says Valencia soothingly. “It doesn’t matter if you miss a couple of things in the meantime.”

“It kind of does,” says Heather, looking up from her phone, peering over the swell of her abdomen down to Valencia. “It’s like missing an episode of The Nanny. It might not matter in the long run, but it’s still totally possible that a massive change happened while you weren’t looking and everyone is making references to an event that you don’t get and you have to piece it together without context, because streaming is not an option.”

“You’ve missed things before. No one is going to judge you for it.”

“No, I don’t miss things.”

Valencia’s responding hm is just judgmental enough to compel Heather to straighten up in her seat.

“I don’t,” she says, a hint of challenge entering her voice. “It was basically my superpower, before this parasite took it.”

“I’m not saying you don’t pick up stuff,” says Valencia, setting down the bottle of polish. “I’m just saying, that you can’t notice everything. It’s not possible.”

Heather’s eyebrows shoot high up her forehead; pregnancy might be messing with her senses, but Valencia’s carefully blank expression is radiating I have something on my mind loud and clear. “Okay, enough generalities – what did I miss?”

Valencia hesitates, but when she looks up to meet Heather’s eyes, she juts out her chin a little bit, firming up. “It’s nothing. And I’m going to tell you.”

“Good.”

“It might be weird.”

“Valencia, I am currently pregnant with Rebecca and Darryl’s baby. Is it that level of weird?”

“No, it’s not that weird,” says Valencia after a pause. “Right. Let me finish the varnish first.”

“Cool.” Heather opens up her phone and adds egg salad to the list. It’s not something she would normally eat, but whatever the Darryl baby wants, it’s gonna get. Maybe it will get bored by all the luxury and try to strike out faster.

Valencia screws the cap back on the bottle and travels back up to sit on the couch cushion besides Heather. “You’re going to love it –they have little white flowers on them.”

“Cool. I’d offer more specific compliments, except there is no way that I will be able to see them over my distended stomach and swollen ankles.”

“Which is why I uploaded the pictures on Instagram,” says Valencia breezily, waving her phone. “You can leave your comments there.”

“Right, exactly. Because that’s what Instagram is for, looking at things you can’t look at in your normal, day-to-day life.”

Valencia makes another noncommittal hum. Heather watches as Valencia continues to mess around with the bottles in her makeup bag, waiting patiently for her question.

“Well?” Heather prompts, when nothing juicy is forthcoming.

“Oh! Right.” Valencia startles a moment before composing herself, tucking her hair behind her ears. Interesting.

“Do you think you ever noticed anything about me that you don’t think that I was aware of?”

Sounds like Valencia is on another self-awareness kick. Well, Heather’s down to help. She tilts her head to one side, considering the question. “I doubt it. I mean, once you broke up with Josh, you’ve been pretty upfront about what you were thinking. Maybe when you and Beth were becoming a thing, but you figured that out pretty quickly, so it doesn’t count.”

“Okay but…”

“But what?”

“But what about me liking girls, specifically?”

“Specifically?” asks Heather, raising her eyebrows slightly.

Valencia takes a deep breath, setting her shoulders straight. “Yeah.”

Huh, interesting.

“Nothing specific,” says Heather thoughtfully, mentally flicking through their past hangouts for signs of Valencia’s interest in anyone beyond their direct social circle. “I mean, there was a distinct lack of interest in guys going on with you, like, even on our girls’ nights out, but when I saw you and Beth together I, like, knew that you had a vibe going on. I didn’t see that before with you and anyone else.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, then you didn’t notice,” says Valencia, sounding vaguely offended.

“Notice what?”

Valencia takes a deep breath. “Beth might be the first girl I’ve dated, but she isn’t the first girl I liked.”

“That makes sense. Who were the others? Denise Martinez from high school? You’ve always complained about her. No, wait, it was Rebecca, right? I know she kissed you once—”

“She mentioned that?” demands Valencia, sitting up, spine ramrod straight, before she pauses and reconsiders. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t be surprised. But no. That was…something else. Which, in retrospect, might have helped me reconsider a couple of things, but that’s so not what I’m talking about right now.”

“Okay, so it’s not Rebecca. Cool. Then would it have—” she stops suddenly. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“So—”

Valencia nods. “Yep. I think I liked you.”

Valencia says it casually, but it’s a bombshell all the same. Heather blinks as she considers this new information, comparing this new context to all the things she knows about Valencia, like pulling away a curtain for a clear view. Their ease with one another, how quickly Valencia started seeking out Heather’s advice and was willing to let her slouch on her couch when she needed time to refill her chill bar during the most hectic days of Rebecca’s hasty wedding planning storm. Valencia had been remarkably lax about Heather setting very close boundaries.

“Oh, huh. Okay, didn’t see that at the time, but okay. That tracks.”

Valencia stares, incredulous. “That’s it? That’s your reaction?”

Heather considers the facts, how she had only known Valencia tangentially as Josh’s girlfriend, with a general idea that they were unsuited, but not understanding just how much until Rebecca brought her to Sugar Face for the first time, beaming and declaring that, if it was all right with her, Valencia might hang out with them a few times while she got over her own post-break-up blues. And she was kind of basic, but also acidic, and very fun and a little clueless and then she just stuck around.

“I mean, I don’t think I totally missed it,” clarifies Heather. “I thought I got a vibe on you for a little while there when I met you, but like, I was trying to figure out if you knew that or if it was just getting into the groove of having a girl group, but there was also the stuff where we were both trying to figure out what to do with our lives and then everything went down with Josh and Rebecca and it just, like, kept going down.”

Valencia nods, grimacing at the memory. “Yeah, it was a lot to process.”

“So much processing,” says Heather with feeling, eyes rolling heavenwards. After a beat, intrigue overtakes her surprise and she sits back up again. “So: how long did you carry a torch for me?”

Valencia gives a dismissive wave. “Not that long. After you started dating Hector I had an epiphany.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I realized that our tastes were way too different to ever work out.”

Valencia pulls a face to punctuate her statement, startling a laugh out of Heather.

“That kinda sounds like an excuse,” teases Heather, a little relieved. Valencia’s shoulders ease, and it’s obvious from the way she’s speaking that there isn’t jealousy or some sort of anguished feeling behind her declaration, and that’s soothing in a very Valencia way. She doesn’t want to stir up drama – she just wants to make things clear and straightforward.

“It really isn’t,” says Valencia, in the same tone she uses when critiquing Josh’s taste in formalwear.

“Okay, it isn’t.”

“I genuinely believe that your interest in Hector cleaved our chances as a couple completely.”

“Sure,” concedes Heather with a smile, “I know you don’t like Hector. Is it because he knows all of the embarrassing stories about you from when you guys were kids?”

“No. Why?” Valencia’s eyes narrow and her body goes rigid. “Why do you mention it? Did he tell you something? Was it about the Sleeping Beauty thing, because he really should know better than that—”

“No, he hasn’t,” says Heather immediately, because it’s true and if the way that Valencia’s perfectly sharp eyebrows are starting to furrow in the middle, if Heather doesn’t clear up that point immediately, there is a nonzero chance that Hector’s demise will be imminent upon walking through the door.

“Good.” Valencia leans back on the sofa, her face still thunderous. “At least his sense of self-preservation is intact.”

“I’ll get that story out of you, then,” says Heather, amused. “You really have nothing good to say about him, do you?”

“Hector is very symmetrical,” says Valencia primly. “And I am willing to admit that he’s been handling your pregnancy very well despite not actually knocking you up.”

“Thank you, I know that cost you something.”

Valencia nods, looking faintly martyred before she shifts position on the sofa, leaning against the cushions, her chin propped up in her palm. “So, you didn’t know I had a crush on you at all?”

“No, I missed that. Which is unfortunate, because it really is flattering.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, totally. You’re definitely a catch. So,” she drags out the word, starting to grin, her long-starved desire for gossip sniffing the air. “When did you know that you liked me?”

She’s pleased to see that Valencia relaxes completely at her teasing, whatever fears she has reassured by Heather’s reaction.

“I didn’t at the time,” admits Valencia. “It didn’t take that long to understand that I liked Beth, really, but I’ve been kind of unpacking stuff with her since we’ve started dating. You know what a good listener she is.”

“Right.”

“And I would keep talking, right, about times when I might have been attracted to other women, what I might have thought of them, and I would think about you and about how, when we first started hanging out, I was so giddy about having female friends for the first time in a long time, and you really helped me figure out what’s normal girl stuff and what wasn’t. And I was so excited to have such smart and attractive friends and I wanted to see you guys every day and your opinions really mattered to me—and I realized that there had been, like, two layers to how I was thinking about you, specifically.”

“Two layers, huh?”

“Yeah, both the core that, you were a cool person, but also like a filter on top of it that make things especially nice. Like the Amaro filter on Instagram. Which, incidentally, is the one I used when I posted your pedicure.”

“Got it.”

“Like, I wanted to be friends,” Valencia continues, insistent. “I absolutely wanted to hang out with you as a friend. But I also kind of wanted to impress you and…have you look at me in a certain way. Though, to be clear, that feeling isn’t really a part of our relationship now, that I was attracted to you. That is in the past. It’s important, but not, like, the defining thing about us. But it in our history and it was weird that you didn’t know about it.” Valencia deflates. “I’m sorry, is this making any sense? This isn’t meant to be a love declaration, or anything, and I’m worried it sounds like one, but it’s just—”

“Part of the history of our dynamic,” Heather finishes. “No, I get it. Human attraction is interesting and doesn’t really care about fitting neatly into romantic-platonic categories.”

“Exactly,” says Valencia, smiling. “Like, I just feel that it’s weird that you didn’t know that’s how I felt about you. You know everything.”

“Apparently not,” says Heather wryly. “But I’m glad you think so.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thanks for telling me. For the record, though, we totally would have been a hot couple in a parallel universe,” Heather adds. “Totally objectively speaking.”

Valencia laughs, her shoulders loosening. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Yeah. And while you might not think the same about me, I do think you have good taste – I’m glad you met Beth. She’s very cool.”

“Aw, thank you.” Valencia beams, pressing her hand over her heart. “That means a lot.”

Heather smiles, a rush of affection for her friend coursing through her, sweeping aside the discomforts of the day. “Come on, let’s have a toast to your good taste and behaving like mature adults. Now gimme my apple juice.”

Laughing, Valencia does as she asks.

#crazy ex girlfriend #heather davis #valencia perez #ellie writes fic #i'm not sure i did this justice #my headcanon is a bit more unwieldy #but oh well

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boogiewrites · 6 years ago

Text

Reports & Repertoire 11

Characters: Eddie Brock x Venom x Candace Miller (OFC)

Word Count: 6000

Summary: Candy’s ego leads her to make a bad decision. This leads Venom having to reveal himself to save her. How will she react to finding out her new romance has been a threesome she had no clue about?

Warnings/Tags: Language. Violence. Fighting. Venom being the best wingman ever. Venom saving the day. Candy coming to terms with Eddie being the weirdest groupon ever. Candy is the coolest and most reasonable cucumber.

Click on my icon then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

Candy and Eddie had fallen in a nice flow of come and go with each other. They had been right, being able to reach out and simply ask for the other was working well. He'd slept over at her place, she'd slept over at his, meeting up for meals and even a late night quickie in her office once was holding up pretty well for them so far. They were busy, but they were happy.

Venom kept nagging Eddie, threatening to show himself so he would tell her about him. Venom was growing very impatient and Eddie took to spending more time in public with Candy instead of nights in to avoid this happening as long as he could. He kept Venom fed in the meantime as best he could, and that was the most helpful thing he could've done for himself. This didn't stop the insults from coming though.

"Coward." Venom would whisper into his ear as he left Candy's place.

"Shut up." Eddie would groan.

"Chicken. Weakling. Pussy. Wimp. Baby." he'd nag.

"I get it you got a fuckin' thesaurus." Eddie sighs. He knew he was right but he was so happy, and Candy was happy and he didn't want to lose it. He didn't know if he could lose it again. But as he does, Venom pushes him to be better. He wasn't just Eddie anymore, he was Venom and together they could be so much more than they had been apart. And that fear of being alone was useless now.

"If you'd told her before you got together this wouldn't be an issue. You're acting like a jerk again. A liar. A dumb ass. It wasn't a big secret and now it is something you are keeping from her. Now you are breaking her trust. And it will be all your fault if she leaves us. Again. You're doing this to yourself, Eddie. You cannot learn your lesson can you?" Venom hisses and judges.

"I'll tell her when it's a good time to tell her. She's in the middle of a big story right now, I don't wanna throw her off her game."

"You are a cur. You should not lie to her like this."

"Oh you've got the fancy words out now." he rolls his eyes.

"Distraction. Excuses." Venom spits out.

"Are you just jealous? You want to be able to be with her too? That it?"

"No. I'm disappointed in you." he rumbles out and he knows Eddie feels it within himself too. ------

Both Eddie and Steph both were loving Candy's new place. It was better than what either of them had. Eddie was paying off back logged bills still and Steph still at her same job weren't in a position to move up so soon. Candy was happy to share with both of them, they house sat when she wasn't there and helped keep her company in the quiet neighborhood when the other wasn't around. It had even worked out by accident that Eddie and Steph had been staying over at the same time on a few occasions, which no one seemed to mind as they soon found their missing of Candy and potential for eye-rolling level jokes were strongly shared between them.

Candace had been deep in an investigation for a fighting ring. WIth her new platform she was ready to get back to her first social injustice she focused on, the homeless, and give a platform for awareness to it. She had assisstants and PA's that helped her go to and from places, recording and scouting and general snooping of suspected areas of interest. It wasn't unusual for local gangs to run drugs through the homeless areas of the Mission, this had been going on for a long time. Street corners with members rubbing elbows with tech start ups on the same street made for an interesting mix. This apparently had led to another case of exploiting the homeless. With promises of money or drugs, they would be lured into old warehouses or abandoned lots, where members would watch them fight for whatever was up for grabs. It was a dangerous job, but the cops were only interested in drug money, they didn't care about the people. Candy did. She caught wind from one of her informants at the shelter about a meetup spot that had been used more than once. So she sees an opportunity. With the sun still up she figures it's safer. Armed with a phone set to send out 911 texts and call emergency services with the tap of a button and a gun she'd recently trained and licensed in a holster under her shirt, she felt ready to take on another big bad.

She didn't want to endanger any of her employees or coworkers, she would've felt entirely guilty and responsible, so she calls up Eddie to see if he's up for some good old fashion detective work.It's a Sunday and that usually meant a travel day, prep day or meeting a deadline for Eddie. She tells him she has a lead, that she doesn't want to wait for it to get cold and is gonna check it out and asks if he's interested. He doesn't think much of her vagueness, she usually was when it came to work since they dealt with sensitive information. So as he's trying to complete an article draft to send it before midnight, he grumbles and tells her he can't, that he needs to finish up but he'll call her later. Without being offended, Candy tells him she'll just text him after she's finished, that she'd be near his neck of the woods anyway. He agrees with a soft smile and a heavy sigh, wishing he could go out and get his hands dirty with her instead of being stuck inside working with an increasingly hungry symbiote.

So Candy makes the decision to go alone. She gives Steph all her information as to where she'd be going and she is not happy about it. She lectures her and tells her she's being reckless, that if one of her people tried to do this she'd give them hell. But she doesn't listen, Candy is tenacious and when she feels those she cares about are at stake, and her inflated ego from her recent successes, she leaves anyway.

She circles the old warehouse, surrounded by desolate and decaying buildings with for lease signs on them. Broken windows and overgrown parking lots, the only thing she sees besides her were stray dogs and birds, she walks confidently, hand on her phone in her pocket and starts to close in on the specific building. She finds an old busted service door, a large piece of plywood over it that had recently been moved, the dust and debris around it was ddisturbed and the door behind it was ajar. She moves it just enough to get through. The metal door is heavy and scrapes the ground, uneven on its warped hinges as she makes her way into the tall, hollow beige painted brick building. Windows with lots of tiny panes, many broken with no particular rhyme or reason let in more light into the space. She sees rooms that used to be offices, for she's guessing was a factory of some sort. Over turned filing cabinets and paper garbage line the cement block walls with their single, wide windows to see through. The wire lined glass made it hold together for the most part, but it'd been smashed many times over. She guessed by the metal trashcan that lay on its side a few feet away. The usual graffiti, some gang-related, some teens drawing dicks and writing 'hail satin' unironically cover the inside walls. The ground is damp in spots, leaves, and puddles, papers, condoms and drug paraphernalia are littered about. She watches for syringes and plastic baggies, stips of rubber and spoons, remnants of busted glass pipes crunch under her feet. She moves to the center of the room, a large circle spray painted very roughly lays in the middle. She walks it, taking pictures with her phone, noting the blood splatters within it, the abandoned bloodied clothes and the signs of struggle among the lines of upright and strewn crates and boxes that surround the circle. There was definitely something going on here. But she didn't have enough evidence to really do anything about it. As she takes pictures, her phone buzzes. It'd been a few hours now since she'd called Eddie that afternoon, she answers quietly as she sees it's him.

"Hey." she whispers.

"Hey. Why are you whispering?" he whispers back.

"I'm at the spot I was talking about."

"That still doesn't answer my question." he snarks.

"I can't see outside so I don't want anyone to know I'm in here." she says obviously, walking back towards the door.

"You trespassing?" his voice inflects.

"Well duh." she says with a roll of her eyes

"Candy are you there by yourself?" he asks more seriously.

"Yeah, no one else could come-"

"Get out of there now." he says sternly.

"I'm leaving, I just wanted pictures. I needed some sort of evidence." she retorts.

"Candy I swear to god, you get out of there now and go home or I'm gonna come get you myself."

He doesn't hear her respond.

"Candy?" he asks more panicked.

He hears a rustling sound.

"Someone's outside." he hears her whisper much lower. She'd ran into one of the abandoned offices, barricaded herself in an old coat closet where the smell was bad enough to make her gag.

"You in trouble? I'll call someone. You okay?"

"I don't know who it is. I gotta go. They can't know I'm here." she says curtly and hangs up.

"Don't you fuckin' hang up on me!" he shouts and is met with the beep of a disconnected line. "GODDAMMIT!" he shouts, eyes shifting quickly over his apartment.

"Where is she?" Venom asks.

"I don't...I don't remember...did she say?" his voice fast and high pitched.

"No. Who would know?" he asks, trying to hide how nervous Eddie was making him.

"Stephanie. Steph would know." he says in an almost slurred risen voice as he punches her contact information.

"Steph? Where the fuck is Candy?"

"Her dumbass went to an abandoned warehouse for some fight club thing." she says with an annoyed sigh.

"AND YOU LET HER?!" he shouts.

"NO. I did not LET her. I told her not to but you try making her listen. You fuckin' journalists and your ambition." she rolls her eyes.

"Text me the address right now. Right when I hang up, you got it?" he orders.

"Why?"

"Just fuckin' do it. I'm going to go get her, she's not safe." He didn't want Steph to panic and he knew he had the tools to take care of trouble himself, he just had to get there in time.

"Okay, shit..yeah okay." she mumbles, hanging up and sending it.

Eddie's phone dings as he leaves his apartment through the window, venom carrying him with extended himbs down the fire escape to his bike. "You remember this okay? You know where this is?" he asks aloud to his partner.

"Yes. Go fast. I will make sure we do not wreck." he says sternly, just as worried about her as Eddie was.

Eddie zips through the streets, and thankfully she isn't too far away. He pulls up, seeing escalades and crotch rockets outside the building in question. He knew this was bad.

"You get me up on the roof?" he asks, and before he can receive an answer Venom envelopes his body and bounds onto the roof to find a place to get a good look.

"Eddie." he growls, looking through a hole in the ceiling, seeing Candy pushed in front of a grouping of men.

"Oh shit." Eddie squeaks. "We gotta get her."

"We have permission to eat these men?"

"Yes, yes, whatever we gotta do. They're bad guys, they're' gonna hurt her." he rushes out. Venom is about to crawl his way discreetly back down the building, but one of the men lay his hands on Candy and shouts in her face, backhanding her and pushing her to the ground. It lights a fire inside him that he only knew from fearing for Eddie. She was theirs and no one got to hurt her. His large fists raised, black obsidian boulders bashing through the weakened place in the roof. One time. Two times and it breaks through, sending debris and a grand distraction down to the floor where he lands on all fours, creating a blockade with Candy behind him.

As if she wasn't terrified enough, her gun already drawn as she's rolled onto the ground, her eyes almost bug out of her head, kicking herself back as she sat on her butt, creating space between her and the monster. A loud shrill screech, an eardrum reverberating roar comes from the inky body of the beast, as it moves faster than she can almost comprehend in her shock, knocking men into walls so hard the cement cracks. It grabs them and bites their heads off, eating some whole as they shoot at it and it goes unphased. She moves quickly, trying to find a place to hide from it and the gunshots. She stays low, not wanted to chance catching a stray bullet and hides behind a pile of crates, covering her head and trying to control her breathing.

The chaos stops. The screams cease and an eerie quiet comes across the large open space. Her eyes haven't blinked since the creature appeared, her breathing shaky and uneven as her hands shook.

"Candy?" she hears the low, bass filled voice ask.

She gulps and makes a helpless sound.

"We will not hurt you." it says.

She hears the feet padding towards her slowly. She takes a deep breath, a loud gulp and with balled fists she wills herself to turn to face the source of the reassurance. She's shaking, but she's trying not to. WIth her jaw tight she lowers her brow, trying to appear more in control, slowly standing and turning, finding herself face to face with a giant quivering mass of black, white veins pulse and squirm across the broad expanse of its humanoid form. It stands nearly seven feet tall, built like an action figure with large and bulky limbs, it's hairless head with large slanted, opalescent eyes focus and blink as it looks at her. A mouth opens to speak, revealing a mouthful of teeth she'd only ever dreamed of being in the mouth of some megalodon dinosaur shark from her childhood nightmares.

With the reveal of it's most certainly lethal jaws, she whimpers and stumbles backward into a crate, not falling but the look of terror clear on her face. Venom slumps his posture, retreating it's forward-leaning stance as Eddie is telling him he's scaring her.

"Candy." he states again.

"Wh-wha what...? You?" she squeaks out. "What are you? You know my name?" she says with more confidence, leaning forward slightly, eyes not leaving it's as she tries to wrap her head around what she's seeing. She must've gotten hit in the head and this is all a hallucination. Some strange thing that happens when you're in a coma or something of that nature. But it felt real. It sounded real.

"Yes we do." he says simply, more quietly.

"We? Are there...oh shit are there other ones...oh god." she rushes out looking to the door and the windows quickly, backing against a wall and her chest starting to rise and fall quickly again.

"Yes. But none like us. They are not here. They cannot hurt you." he says, it's fingers that point into claws, rest at its sides.

"Are you gonna hurt me?" she rasps out and the sound hurts Eddie deep in his chest.

"No. Never. Eddie would never allow it." he says with a slow shake of his head.

"EDDIE?!" she says loudly, her chin hutting back into her neck in surprise at the mention of his name. "Whatthefuck? Eddie? How the fuck do you know Eddie?" she says quickly, her mouth open and her eyes worried.

"We...are Eddie. We are Venom." he says, it's massive paws moving to its chest.

"Lemme see her, you're scaring the shit out of her, man, change back." Eddie says from inside the symbiote's protection. He slowly soaks back into Eddie's skin, shrinking back down into the familiar form she knew and loved.

She stands with her mouth agape, her face contorting through several emotions, mainly different expressions of shock and confusion. "Eddie?" she whispers, eyes darting around the room again, checking to see if this was some glitch in the matrix she was experiencing because she was having a hard time comprehending that this could be real.

"Yeah. Uh...hiya Candy." he says with a reluctant wince, holding his hands up as if he were surrendering.

She blinks fast and stutters, mouth opening and closing like a fish as she can't find words to express herself.

"I guess there's somethin' I should tell ya." he says rubbing the back of his beck and grinning nervously.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" she shouts, not angry, feet stomping and fists clenched, her eyes looking him over, head shaking back and forth.

"I can explain." he says with a frown.

"YOU FUCKING BETTER! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK EDDIE?!" she screeches, moving closer, head guiding the way as she confronts him.

Venom's head with it's vein like attachments to Eddie's body forms and slithers up near his head and she makes a nervous noise and backs away again. "We uh..." Eddie swallows and smacks his lips. "I." he says putting his hands to his chest.

"We." Venom says, looking to Eddie.

"Yeah uh...both of us. We're this thing. Together."

"Uh huh?" she says with a mixed look of confusion and uncertainty.

"I am a symbiote. An alien from another planet. I was brought here. Eddie and I have bonded. I need him to live on your planet. We help each other. We are one in the same now. Together, we are Venom." he explains slowly and calmly as Eddie is swimming over his head in guilt at how terrified he'd made her.

"Venom?" she asks flatly, addressing the alien head, trying to take in its words and make sense of them.

"Yeah, that's his name." Eddie chimes in.

"Our name."

"Our name yeah. When we're together ya know. Like you saw." he gestures to nothing in particular.

"Uh," she says before taking a deep breath, raising her hands up and lowering them to steady herself. "So..." she begins. "An alien life form... this... gooey guy here." she says looking to the head and gesturing with her hand.

"Symbiote." he clarifies.

"This..." she shakes her head in disbelief again."This symbiote." she clarifies. "You're bonded? Like... physically right. LIke symbiotic?"

"Yeah, he needs me to live. I'm his host." Eddie says with a hesitant face.

She stares at them without saying anything for a moment, blinking with her mouth open, eyes shifting between the both of them. "This." she shakes her head quickly and raises her hands. "This is a lot." she says in an offended tone. She turns and takes a few steps, mumbling to herself. "You think you find a nice guy and he's been abducted by a fucking alien." she groans, hand running through her hair as she exhales loudly.

"Not abducted. Chosen. By me. We are extremely compatible. We work as one now." Venom elaborates.

She puts her hands on her hips and looks around the room that's starting to grow dark. "Okay?" she says shrugging. What else was she supposed to say to all this?

"She said we were nice." Venom says with a happier tone. Misreading the context of her statement.

"Not exactly what she meant, man." he mumbles back. "Uh..." Eddie steps towards her and clears his throat. "It's gettin' dark we need to get goin' before more of those guys show up." he says, hesitantly reaching out to touch Candy's shoulder. He wanted to touch her, to know she was okay, but he'd lost that privilege, for now, he sees as she jumps out of her skin at the feeling, stepping away from him and putting her hands up between them.

She takes a shaky breath, eyes fluttering as she looks at the ground, ashamed of her reaction, but she was still entirely rocked by all this. There were too many questions to even form coherent thoughts. "Yeah. We should." she says softly.

"I got my bike. We could go back to my place? Or yours...whatever you want. I don't wanna make you anymore uncomfortable than I have. I'm sorry about this...you finding out this way. Can you...can you ride with me back?"

"With him?" she asks, pointing to Venom.

"Yeah he...he's been around a while now." he admits, wincing again.

"He has?" she says, eyes growing wide again.

"Yeah, there's...a lot to tell you Candy. And I wanna answer everything. I want you to know everything, okay? Can we get you safe? Can you ride home with me?" he asks reaching out for her.

She nods and lowers her gaze. "Yeah let's...let's go back to my place. I'd feel...better there." she says awkwardly avoiding Venom's staring.

"Quit starin' man, you're making her nervous. Go away for a little bit, we gotta get her home." he says, moving forward with a polite nod to her as he opens the door. Venom dissipates into Eddie and he reaches out for her hand to help her out of the narrow door.

She hesitates and it breaks his heart. She looks at his hand for a moment, and he leaves it still, eyes wide and sad as he watches the fear of him move across her face. She looks up at him, one smooth sweep of her eyes to his before moving back to his hand and finally taking it. -------

They enter her house, she's quieter than he's ever known her to be before. He quickly texts Steph he's got her at home and she's fine so they don't get interrupted. He fills a pack with ice and brings it to her. She looks at him confused.

"For your face." he says sweetly.

"Oh. Right." she shakes her head for a moment. "That." she says, moving to put it against her cheek.

He sits next to her on the love seat, where they'd been so close so many times before. But he keeps his distance this time. She went and changed out of her dirty clothes, already whooshing away in the washer beforehand. They share an awkward silence, the shifting of the bag of ice the only noise.

"You wanna ask me questions?" he finally breaks the silence.

"Yeah I'm just...I'm still shocked. I think. I'm wondering if any of this is happening at all." she admits, not looking at him.

"I would like to assure you that it is. Most are confused by a new concept such as this. But you are very smart. Ask us questions, we will answer. Then we can lose this awkwardness." Venom states matter of factly.

"Man, why ya gotta bring it up like that it makes it worse."

"It is clear she is uncomfortable. We do not want her to be. This is the solution."

Candy watches their bickering and it humanizes the amorphous goo for her.

"But when there's tension you don't just say there's tension. We can both feel it we know." his face was clear with agitation.

"But this solves the problem."

"It's a matter of tact, man. You gotta know how to handle people and their emotions." he says annoyed.

"You barely have control over yours Eddie. You are in no place to be telling a lifeform with 600 million years of knowledge how to problem solve." he sass's back.

They both hear a tiny huff of a laugh from Candy who is watching them with a much softer face. They turn their heads at the same time and watch her and her subtle smile appear.

"So you have your own, like, personality and stuff, huh?" she says, making eye contact with Venom. This was good, Eddie thought. This was progress.

"Yes. I am a culmination of all I have learned from all my hosts and all their interactions and knowledge they hold."

"So Eddie isn't your first."

"No. There have been many others." he keeps his voice soft.

"Why did you come to earth?"

"We were taken by a man you know as Carlton Drake. I escaped. The others that came with me...died."

"Carlton Drake?" she asks, looking at Eddie.

"Yeah. Venom here was a part of the big takedown of the Life Foundation."

"Oh?" she says surprised.

"I found Eddie when he broke in. We bonded, living with him made me see things from a different perspective. Together we saved the planet. We stopped my team leader from returning home to bring others to Earth."

She blinks and looks back over to Eddie. "Save earth? When you broke in?" she asks, tilting her head with an accusatory tone.

"Yeah... I uh..." he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Tell her Eddie. No secrets. You said no secrets when she found out about us."

"I would appreciate no secrets. No secrets is going to be the only way I don't break up with you for this." she states rather coldly. And he suspected he deserved it.

"Remember when I said I was sick?" he begins with a weary voice.

"I fucking knew you weren't sick." she says with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

"Yeah. I'm sorry I lied. But, it was I'm sick or I have a symbiote who needs to eat people to survive now."

"He didn't want to lose you." Venom interjects.

"Oh, c'mon man." Eddie mumbles and looks away.

Candy's resolves falters, with Venom's admission.

"A scientist came to me, tellin' me I was right about what I was accusin' Drake of... the stuff that got me blacklisted. I wasn't gonna do anything about it, but people were dyin' Candy. They were takin' homeless people and testing on them and they were dyin' and it wasn't fair. He was insane, he really was." he says and sighs. "I wanted to prove myself. To you and to everyone else. I could redeem my name, get my life back if I could get in there and get proof."

"He wanted to be better... for you." Venom once again interjects with what really should be said but what Eddie was too afraid to admit. Once again Candy's heart softens.

"I.." he slumps and meets her eyes with his ashamed ones. "I did." he nods and looks away. "I wasn't gonna get any better livin' how I was. And you deserved better... and you knew that and I didn't see any other way to be worth your time unless I was somebody again."

"When I told you I thought you should get your shit together...breaking into the Life Foundation isn't what I meant." she says with a sigh.

"I know I just. I had to. I couldn't keep livin' in the shadow of it." he shakes his head.

"This is the part where I come in." Venom gives what he thinks is a smile and she sheepishly returns it.

"Yeah, I broke in with the doctors help and then it all happened real fast... Venom bonded to me, we escaped, I tried to go to Anne to have her tell somebody about what I saw. I had pictures, proof."

"You went to Anne?" she asks with a much less enthusiastic voice.

"She was a big lawyer, she had connections no one else did. What I did to Drake got her fired too cause we were togehter and I got the information from her so she was a victim in all this too 'cause 'a me." it all comes spilling out and it's an odd pleasurable pain to feel, coming clean.

She looks to Venom to see if he's lying, as he seems to be the one telling her the full truth. "This is true. She was the only one that coule help us. Eddie hurt her, she deserved the redemption as well." he states simply.

"Her new boyfriends a surgeon, and I was acting all kinds of crazy. All that was true that I told you, about the..." he pauses, "parasite..." he whispers " but it was because of him." he nods to Venom. " I didn't know what was happening to me and I wasn't in control and we were fighting for control and Dan, that's his name, Dan, he took me and tried to get me better. But when I got back home Drake's men came after me. There was a big chase-"

She interrupts his story. "Holy shit that bike chase was you." she says with wide concerned eyes.

"Oh yeah it was fuckin' nuts Candy, I tell ya. I almost died. I broke my legs and my arms and it was crazy." he rushes out.

"Broke your legs and arms? What?" she asks with a tilt of her head.

"I healed him." Venom states and she blinked fast at him.

"Healed him?" she inquires.

"Yes. I can control Eddie's bodily functions if I wish. I can heal him when he is hurt."

"Oh. Wow." she says, impressed. "That's...that's really helpful." she says looking to Eddie.

"Yeah, it's a perk."

"So if you got hurt... like someone hurt you, he could heal it?" she asks Eddie.

"Yes. We almost died. Taking down my team leader to keep Earth safe."

They both see the sadness in her eyes and the mutual feeling of relief to see it still there and also the fact that she was feeling it made them shift anxiously.

"You almost died?" she whispers, reaching out to touch his knee and she doesn't even think about it.

"Yeah I got speared through the chest...actually." he laughs nervously.

"You fucking what?" she says with a wrinkle of her nose. "But you can't even tell you..no scars or anything." she says looking to his chest.

"I healed him. I keep him running if I am fed."

"That's another thing..." Eddie begins. "He needs this chemical, phenylethylamine to function. And it's found in things like chocolate and what not but it's best if it's in the form of...well..." he winces.

"Brains. Human brains." Venom says what's hard to Eddie to discuss.

"That why you...ate those guys back there?"

"Yes. And because they hurt you. We would not allow anyone who hurt you and get away with it." Venom elaborates and the corner of her mouth turns up into a smile.

She shifts her eyes over to Eddie. "It's true." he says with those puppy eyes she's weak to.

"So you got your job back because the truth about the Life Foundation came out, and I'm guessing those first breaking photos were ones you took, right?"

"Right."

"And you didn't take credit for it?"

"I wanted to be finished with it. I don't want anything to do with that place again." he says with a slow shake of his head.

"But...aren't they gonna want him back?" she points to Venom.

"All of those who knew are dead."

"Oh." she says with wide eyes. "All of them?"

"Yes. We did not kill them though. For the record." he adds.

Candy lets out a little chuckle, an alien using human turns of phrase struck her as funny at the moment. "Well, that's good. I guess. For us." she shrugs and lets out a noisy sigh.

"Us?" Eddie can't help but blurt out.

"Well yeah. I mean...So, me, you, Anne and...?"

"Dan."

"Dr. Dan know about Venom, and they aren't gonna tell anyone since they haven't yet so that ties up the loose ends."

Venom lets out a low laugh. "I like her. She is so logical." he smiles.

"Thanks." she nods. "So are you."

"Except when he's hungry. He's an asshole when he's hungry." Eddie clarifies.

"So...you've been with Eddie for months then."

"Yes."

"Which means..." she sighs and knits her brow. "You've been with him when we've..." she tilts her head.

"Yes." Venom clarifies.

"Uh huh. That's a little weird. I would've liked a heads up before you unknowingly roped me into a threesome ya know." she says with an only half joking pout.

"Yeah. I...I'm sorry about that too. But...I didn't want to tell you because this is..." he makes an unsure face.

"Fucking insane?" she clarifies with a grin.

"Exactly."

"He did not tell you because he did not want you to leave us. He won't' say it. I will for the sake of keeping him happy. We really like you Candy. I have wanted to interact with you for a long time."

"Well he's lucky I'm an idiot who has a soft spot for other idiots apparently," she says with a smirk to Eddie who accepts the criticism gladly. "I get why you didn't tell me but...you should have." she states obviously.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I didn't exactly know how to bring up this whole situation."

"Yeah." she sighs.

"I told him to tell you sooner." Venom interjects.

"Seems like I owe you a thank you...Venom." she says. "I don't know if I should like, shake your hand or something?" she chuckles. "You saved my life back there...do you even have hands? What's this sharing a body situation like?" she asks in a much more casual way.

"Complicated." Eddie says.

A oozy tendril emerges from the stringy body that flows behind Venom's formed head. "We can shake hands. I would like to touch you." he says a tentacle forming solid and splitting into a hand shape.

"Don't be weird, man." Eddie says, swatting the reaching limb away.

"No, it's okay. I mean..." she shrugs. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious." she admits.

"She is honest Eddie. I like her." Venom almost coos.

"Thanks." she says, holding out her hand.

Venom reaches out slowly, closing the space between them. The feel reminded her of a snake, you expect one thing out of it, cold and clammy, but it's warm and soft instead. It's solid but it had give under her fingers as she gripped it, moving her hand up and down and watching as the blackness moved around her hand. It changes from a shake, pushing between her fingers, wrapping it's formless hand around her like it was interlacing its fingers with hers, it felt affectionate and soft, encasing her fingertips and lapping around her wrist. It didn't hurt, it wasn't unpleasant but it was strange. "You are so soft, Candy." Venom says, little tentacles stroking the back of her hand lovingly.

"So are you." she says with a shifting brow of interest. "You're a lot warmer than I expected."

"You are smoother than I expected." he retorts and she smiles.

"So you just lay in wait in Eddie'ds body while we..." she quirks a brow.

"Yes. I feel what he feels, in every way. Every sensation, every thought, every feeling."

"It's annoying." Eddie says with a frown.

"I don't know..." she shrugs, pulling her hand back and Venom heeds her wishes. "That seems sort've...nice." she shrugs, her voice inflecting upward.

"See. She gets it Eddie. I told you she would."

"Yeah but she doesn't have to live with you all the time. Just wait." he says rolling his eyes as Venom moves to nuzzle his face against Eddie's. Candy lets out the first laugh since the shock of learning about him, and it melts them both to hear it, to know there was hope for normalcy again for them. As strange as normal had become for them.

@hardygal69 @raceylacy @emerald-bijou @negansdirtygirl22 @brianaisasongbird @vale0413 @izzy-the-ginger @chortletortoise @onomatopoetic-aesthetic @anrm1 @jademox @nightcraver @venomous-possibiities @tinastarkandco @chipster-21

#eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock fic #eddie brock imagine #venom fanfic #venom #eddie brock fanfic #eddie brock fluff #eddie brock fan fiction #eddie brock fan fic #venom fandom #venom fic #venom fluff #venom fan fic #eddie brock x oc #eddie brock x ofc

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rosewinterborn · 5 years ago

Text

11/11/11

I waited too long to do this, so now I have 44 questions to do. RIP. Tagged by @writersblockandapotoftea, @arwallace (I know you tagged @expositionpreposition but it’s easier to do it here!), @shit-she-wrote, and @atinydino

Cap:

Who was your childhood hero?

Honestly, probably JKR. Again, RIP.

If we didn’t start the fire, who did?

People like my dad who say “millennials” like it’s a derogatory word probably

What made you start your wip?

Reading too much Dresden Files and also looking at magic academia posts on Tumblr (Gutter Witch); Reading Eragon (Companion to Dragons); Wanting to make an open magic world (Witches Anthology); Reading too much Stucky fanfiction (Fractal); Listening to the Magnus Archives three times through in a month (CHAF3k); wanted to go on a magic adventure with my high school friends (Children of the Light)

Hogwarts house?

Gryffindor!

Star Trek or Star Wars

Star Wars, though I like both

What was your pre-teen bop?

Uhhh Taylor Swift’s whole second album

If you could have a fantasy creature as a pet, what would you pick?

A dragon about the size of a cat that could sit on my shoulder and talk to me

What’s your pet peeve?

Feeling like people are upset with me but won’t talk to me about it

Dracula or Frankenstien’s Monster?

Haven’t read Dracula so Frankenstein’s monster, I guess.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve said to a friend?

I mean I had a conversation with two lesbians about dildos yesterday, soooo

If you had to murder someone, who would it be?

No one. I honestly don’t think I’d be able to live with myself after.

A R Wallace

Which book(s)/series would you compare your current WIP(s) to?

The Dresden Files. Though I did have someone say it was like reading a better-written Mortal Instruments. I was tickled.

Would you be willing to adapt your WIP into a movie one day? Why or Why not?

Yes. Please. Let me see my work come to life.

What is your ‘writing ritual’? (do you make sure you’ve made a cup of tea, sit in a particular spot, etc.)

I don’t have any particular ritual, I usually just try and seize the energy when I have it. Right now I am trying to sit at my actual desk to work, though, and during school if I had anything that I desperately needed to get done I took my ass to a coffee shop and told myself I wasn’t allowed to leave until it was done.

How much has writeblr helped you with your writing?

It helped me find a writing community that inspired me to get back to work after the depression had taken it away from me. I’m not as active on writeblr as maybe I could be, but the writing discord I found through it has been a lifeline.

If you could be one creature (real or mythical), what would you be?

A dragon. But like, one of the ones that can shapeshift. I also like being human.

Sum up your favorite WIP in one sentence

Oh god I’m supposed to have a favorite? That’s not gonna happen…

Gutter Witch: Local teens sick and tired of prophetic bullshit

Children of the Light: Estranged assholes learn to love each other again and also stop the apocalypse

Fractal: Hell on Earth in so many ways

Companion to Dragons: Girl’s asshole father sends her and her sister on a suicide mission and thinks that’s the end of it (surprise!)

Witches Anthology: literally a whole bunch of short stories so I’m not gonna try

Which of your characters is your favorite?

Whyyyyyy idk in GW probably Hunter, he’s fun to write. Overall maybe Sterling, my enby necromancer in the anthology

Which of your characters is your least favorite?

Hunter’s mother. Like honestly, every time I write about her she gets worse.

What do you believe is the most overused trope in your WIP’s genre(s)?

Melodrama.

Favorite season?

Autumn

If you could travel anywhere in the universe, where would you go?

Several places in Europe, in no particular order.

Eva:

1. What’s the first story you remember writing?

A story about a cat and a mouse becoming friends.

2. How has your taste in books changed since childhood?

I’ve tended a lot less towards high fantasy. I think it’s too much of an energy investment to try and understand the worldbuilding right now, whereas you can usually just jump into urban fantasy. I’ve also gotten a lot more interested in horror.

3. Do you see any similarities to your favorite books in your work? If yes, what are they?

If I’m being real honest, most of my wips are direct rip-offs of stuff I’ve read/watched/listened to, at least in the first draft. I usually try and direct my obsessions into creative energy at some point, with differing amounts of success.

4. What sort of music inspires you?

Stuff with strong beats/baseline and vaguely rebellious lyrics. So like, lots of Imagine Dragons and Fall Out Boy. But also trailer music like Epic Score and Two Steps from Hell

5. Favorite book?

These are the most evil kinds of questions you guys.

I can’t think of any published books I’d call my absolute favorite, but I do have a handful of fanfics I read on at least an annual basis: War, Children, by Nonymos; To Be Vulnerable Is Needed Most of All, by perfect_plan; and Schroedinger’s Romance by lesbuchanan

6. Favorite mythology (Greek, Norse, etc.)?

Probably Celtic? I’m really rusty on it though

7. Dream vacation?

A long, long trip through Europe without having to worry about money

8. Favorite writing snack?

I don’t really eat when I write because its too much of a distraction :P

9. What tea do you drink the most while writing?

Irish Breakfast

10. Do you have a special writing cup, that you drink tea out of specifically when writing to fill you up with inspiration?

I have a couple I’m more likely to grab, like my Night Vale Community Radio mug or my white Starbucks mug with the gold lettering

11. Write your favorite quote from your recent wip!!

Just outside the beam of light was a circle of what looked like black paint, tiny sigils scratched into it, shimmering uncannily in the dark. Wisps of that grim light drifted from the sigils to the figures at their center, dancing around Mara’s hands, clutching at Hunter’s shirt. Anywhere they touched his skin, blood seeped from a new laceration, sluggish and dark and horrible.

“Hunter,” she breathed.

Then she heard him.

“Run, Cady,” he croaked. “Tell my mom...she’s a bitch.”

Ames:

1. What’s your favorite season and why

Autumn! I love rain and also that it’s not super hot or super cold

2. What’s your favorite food?

Bread.

3. Who’s your favorite character in your most recent WIP?

Hunter Bishop, asshole extraordinaire

4. Do you hide easter eggs in your writing? If so tell me a few.

Hm. If I do, I don’t consider them easter eggs, just references. Though I did have someone in my creative writing class ask if the sandwich my protagonist was eating was based on one served in one of the restaurants on campus (and he was right)

5. Would you prefer your WIPs to be turned into a movie or tv series? (feel free to tell me about more than just 1)

Gutter Witch should just be a movie, and I’m leaning towards that for Witches as well. Fractal could go either way, though I’m leaning towards TV show. Children of the Light could go either way. CHAF3k will hopefully be a podcast at some point.

6. If you could have a writing studio anywhere with anything in it, what would it be like and where would it be?

I like the nook I have, though I think I’d adjust the height of my desk chair and add a coffee maker and a closer bathroom so I don’t have to walk all the way across the apartment. Oh, and I’d get a massive whiteboard so I can go all conspiracy theory on my wips.

7. What music do you listen to to get you in the zone? (the writing zone)

Trailer music! Epic Score and Two Steps from Hell. I can’t listen to music with lyrics while I try to make the words go.

8. What’s your worldbuilding process?

Panic.

But actually, I think of the aesthetic I’m after and then try to make everything build off of that. Along the way I usually try to figure out what thing I’m consciously or unconsciously basing it off of so that I can make necessary changes.

9. Who are your most influential authors?

JKR (sorry), Laini Taylor, Juliet Marillier, Tamora Pierce

10. What’s your favorite kind of cookie?

French macarons

11. Give me your favorite excerpt for your recent WIP!

“I wanted to talk to Madge.”

“Madge is dead,” Hunter said, confused.

“I’m aware,” she said. “I asked Death to take me to her, but she said she couldn’t and suggested projection instead.”

Hunter turned from the stove with the most dumbfounded expression Cady had ever seen outside of cinema. “You asked Death,” he repeated.

Cady snorted. “Yeah. I asked Death.”

“The cosmic power, Death.”

“The cosmic power, Death. We’re good friends. She comes over for tea on occasion.”

Hunter stared at her, expression halfway between disbelief and suspicion. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not fucking with you,” Cady said. “Death is the whole reason I came to this Coven. She sent me here when I was thirteen.”

Hunter sank back against the counter, looking almost faint. Whatever he’d been cooking began to sizzle alarmingly. “Death has been...in this apartment.”

Cady nodded.

Not tagging anyone else on this one. I’ve learned my lesson lmao.

#tag games

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reverseblackholeofwords · 6 years ago

Text

A Thanksgiving Goodbye

(I know its too early for this but i thought it was nescessary)

Wilford thought they should celebrate a real thanksgiving again. “Turkey and everything.” as he put it. And for once. Nobody protested. A strange melancholy hung over the room as they prepared. Talking about everything except the elephant in the room. Wilford, of course, was ecstatic, independent at last. It was up to them to make their own stories now, and yet the rest of them couldn’t help but miss her. The steady stream of fans in the lobby, the little writer upstairs brandishing her laptop and writing up their next big adventure. They tried not to think about it too much as they worked on their gigantic meal. This year, they were inviting everybody.

Wilford and Dark had extended the meeting table to be three times it’s original length and the Host spent three days in the kitchen, with Dr. Iplier popping in now and then to check that nothing was burning. Anti and his brothers were all tasked with sending out the invitations, a task that anti and Ollie enjoyed immensely, whipping out their best arts and crafts set and working on the perfect design.

When the day finally rolled around, the meeting room had been transformed into a huge dining room, with decorations, a checkered tablecloth, and ornamental vases of flowers from Bim’s garden decorating the table. There were three turkeys all together, spaced evenly along the ridiculously long table, paired with every thanksgiving food you could possibly imagine and many, many chairs.

“You sure we have enough chairs?”

Anti asked skeptically as he remembered the pile of invites he and Ollie had sent out the day before.

“More than enough.”The Host replied

“40 chairs, 39 invitations.”

Anti ended up getting more chairs anyways.

“Y, know, just in case.”

Guests started arriving at noon. The Markiplier Egos and Anti were already seated and talking when the rest of the Septics arrived at the feast. Chase’s eyes went wide at the array of food covering the table and JJ clapped his hands excitedly.

“Host, did you make all of zis?”

The Host smiled at himself as the five guests sat down at the table. Anti insisted the food stay untouched until everyone arrived, so instead, the egos talked to pass the time. There was enough of them to never allow a moment of silence.

“That. is the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard. And I live with Marvin.”

Jackieboyman said when Wilford told him about his brilliant plan for Markiplier TV 2.

Both Wilford and Marvin gave him a look of deep personal offense and Chase couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

Dark was talking to Bim in a low voice, complaining about his recent back pains, he believes were caused from falling off the catwalks during Wilford’s and Anti’s fight.

“Pipe it down Drama Queen, we all know you’re just old.”

Wilford retorted as he overheard the conversation.

Dark scowled at his comment and Wilford replied with a wide grin.

“He’s right you know,” Anti said.

“Wilford probably has a lot more damage from that fight than eyeliner over there.”

Wilford smirked at Anti while twirling a knife between his fingers

“You wish.”

“Come on Wilford you know I’m the stronger ego, lest we forget the first time we fought, where you just gave up…

“Like a wuss.” He added under his breath.

“Um, you weren’t exactly fighting fair.”

Bim reminded him. And I didn’t appreciate you using me as a puppet either.

Anti shrugged.

“A wins a win.”

“Insufferable children.”

Google whispered under his breath.

“Oh yeah?”

Wilford retorted indignantly,

“What’s your big accomplishment Tinman?”

“I remember when I was the one who had to drag Dark out of meeting rooms because everybody was too afraid to even look at him.”

Dark smirked at him.

“Okay Google, let us not forget how easy it was to exploit your programming.”

Google punched Dark playfully in the shoulder,

“We both know that doesn’t work on me anymore.”

“The Host would like to remind everybody that true pain has not been felt until you’ve been tasked with teaching a glitch how to time travel through a radio.”

Both Doc and Anti laughed when the door to the meeting room opened.

Mare, Sharper, and Phantom stood framed in the door, accompanied by Peevils and Mae.

“We got your… colorful invitations.”

Mare said from the door

“I only came for the food honestly:” Phantom added.

Sharper just waved happily at green as the three battle egos sat down next to the septics and started filling up their plates before Anti could stop them.

“Well.” Dr. Iplier looked down at his empty plate.

“We might as well start eating.”

Mae and Peevils looked down at the busy table as Wilford ceremoniously threw a knife at the biggest turkey in the room and people started piling food onto their plates.

“ We can leave if you want.” Mae offered as she saw Peevil’s unsure expression.

“…No, I don’t want to run away anymore.”

Starlight walked around the table and sat down next to Mare. Her eyes, meeting with Dark shortly. He wasn’t the man she’d come to love. not anymore, but he wasn’t the man she learned to hate either. Not really. Not anymore.

More people start coming once the meal had started. The Sanders sides joined them shortly afterward marveling at the feast in front of them, followed by PJ and Wiggles, who crashed through the lobby on a spaceship and spent the rest of the day promising to fix it after dinner. Having wiggles at the table was a little awkward for everything, including space and time, but it didn’t take him long to get into a heated argument with Wilford over the best Cotton Candy to stuff through a wormhole. As the ice between them started to break, the awkwardness was replaced by idle chatter and good food.

5 Chairs remain glaringly empty throughout dinner, and anti is left wondering if he somehow messed up the invitation when he hears a little knock on the door that is almost lost in the noise of the room. Anti glitches to the door, takes a deep breath and opens it. Jack stands behind the door and before he can say anything, Anti gives him a big hug.

“Thank you. Jack.”

“For what?” Jack asks, a little surprised by the sudden embrace.

“For coming.” Anti smiles at him and Jack smiles back as they both go to sit down.

Behind him stands a girl. Her golden hair replaced with chocolate, and yet she still shines as brightly as she did, the first time she had entered this building. The conversation slowly dies down as more people start to notice Amy and a strange hush falls over the room.

“Sorry We’re late.” she says, not meeting anybody’s gaze.

“Sorry.”

Behind her stands the rest of Teamiplier looking very nervous and perplexed. At the impossibly full room

“I bought muffins.” She says timidly, holding up a basket.

There’s an awkwardly long silence that everybody is too afraid to break, until one voice, pipes up from the back of the table.

“What kind?” The Host asks, a smile starting to creep up his face

Amy smiles back at him, removing the blanket from the basket.

“Blueberry, of course.”

“My Favorite.”

“Yeah, you’re favorite.”

“Well Are ya out or are ya in? Ya lettin’ a draft threw da door.”

Wiggles exclaimed grumpily. Uncomfortable by the sudden silence.

Amy, Mark and the rest of the team take the last available places, handing out the homemade muffins and digging into what remains of the turkey.

It’s not long after until dessert is properly served, sweet potato pie and apple strudel, filling the conference room with magical smells and small talk. Dark looks down at the full table. This was important to them. It was important to him too. Everybody is here now. Those who were here from the start to the finish, those that they found along the way. Even those that were only here for one short time in their life. Him, Wilford, Anti, Yandere, Bing, the Jims… Amy. All of them important. All of them with a part to play. He knew that this was it. No more stories, no more hardships. No more little writer upstairs, but looking at these people, his family, his friends, his enemies. He knew they would all be ok. Dark looked down at his dessert and dug in, raising his eyebrows at the peculiar taste.

Bittersweet.

He thought to himself.

(I would write “The End” here, but it’s not The End, it’s just goodbye.)

Submitted by: @fish0ut0fwater

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kingsofeverything · 5 years ago

Text

11/11/11

@chloehl10 @ham-palpert @reminiscingintherain @realitybetterthanfiction and @laynefaire tagged me in this. Thanks y’all! I’m sorry I’m such a slack ass and it’s been weeeeeeks since I drafted this half finished, soooooooooo....

I’m going to combine and put everything under a cut.

The first 11 are from @chloehl10

1. What’s your favourite fic you’ve ever written, and why?

Don’t Want Shelter because it’s the first fic I put emotional effort into. That universe, that Harry and Louis, all of it are very vivid and alive in my head. I love them.

2. Pick three words that you think describe your works overall.

Long ass sentences 👀

3. How long does it take you to write a fic?

Depends. Writing doesn’t usually take me long but editing does.

4. What’s the hardest thing about writing?

Realizing that I’m probably never going to write some of the ideas I have

5. Do you listen to music or anything while you write? What’s normal for you when you write?

I don’t usually, but sometimes. Idk that I have a normal. I really prefer to be alone and quiet.

6. How do you come up with titles for your fics?

Songs usually. Sometimes they just come to me though.

7. What’s one piece of advice you’d give to a new writer?

Get a beta. But not just a beta. Get someone who can talk fic/plot/story with you as well.

8. How important do you think tags are when you are publishing a fic?

Very in some ways, no at all in others. I tag mainly for readers so they know enough about the fic to decide whether or not to read. I don’t tag specific sex stuff usually though every now and then I’ll throw in ‘anal fingering’ just to mix it up. I don’t tag who tops/bottoms. I do tag with fic reccers in mind thanks to B’s @nottooldforthisship instructions!

9. Do you write for fests/exchanges? If so, do you enjoy them? If not, why not?!

I have and I do but not often. I like running them and I have done exchanges in the past but it’s not really my thing to write for them. Is that weird? I feel like it is but ehhh

10. Which work of yours are you most proud of and why?

An Unbalanced Force aka marold harold because.... idk

11. What’s next for you?

Currently working on a short pwp hiccup fic

These 11 are from @ham-palpert

1. Have you ever been burned by a WIP that never updated? If so, describe that traumatic experience.

I have not! But more in a ehhhh I’m not too bothered way. I’ve definitely read WIPs that weren’t completed but idk I guess I love on quickly lol

2. Speaking of WIPs, do you like writing (or reading) them? Why or why not?

I don’t write them. As in even my fics that have been posted as WIPs (DWS and HFL) we’re completely finished aside from some editing before I started posting. I change too much when I write. That padlock in TSHU? Thought of it at the end and went back to add it to the beginning.

I will sometimes read a WIP but not often. Mainly because I don’t remember anything between updates

3. Are you a dialogue person? An inner-monologue person? A heavily descriptive scene-setter?

I think I’m gonna pass? I literally have no idea. I don’t think I heavily describe scenes but I guess that depends on the scene? This is when I send for help and ask Nic

4. Is there a scene from a fic you’ve read that you wished you’d written/thought of first?

Not really

5. Would you rather read a 150k angsty fic, or a 10k fluffy one-shot?

10k one shot

6. Do you enjoy writing smut scenes? Does it make you feel super awkward? Do you need to have a cigarette afterwards?

Sometimes smut scenes are fun to write. Especially if there’s something different about it. Sometimes I have to be in the mood. Sometimes I feel like I need to shower after lolll

7. Do you click through the recently updated list on AO3 or read exclusively fic recs? Or a bit of both?

Neither. I don’t read nearly as much as I used to. I’m nowhere near caught up on Big Bang.

8. How many words, on average, do you write a week? Do you try to stick to writing goals?

Oh wow. Idk! I could actually figure it out since I track my words per day. When I’m steadily writing, I’d say 10k a week is average? Probably more tbh

9. Are you someone who comments on the fics you read (and liked)?

Yes

10. Of all the fics you’ve written, which one came to you the easiest?

marold harold I think

11. If you had to live in one of the AUs you created, which one would it be?

Marold harold and I’d be Kate McKinnon

these 11 are from @reminiscingintherain

1. Has your writing changed now from the way it was when you started? If so, how?

yeah definitely. more plot heavy and just better overall

2. Does anyone IRL know about your writing? If so, have they read it?

yes, but no one’s read any of it. i almost sent tshu to my therapist lol

3. Is there anything you’ve written that you wish you hadn’t?

4. Do you have a set location or setting that you have to write in? A favourite cafe? The only seat that’s comfortable?

no, i will write literally anywhere. on my phone or laptop. i like writing on my back porch when it’s not a million degrees outside

5. What are you working on? If you can (i.e., it’s not on anon!), share five lines!

5 lines from the hiccup fic:

When he opens his mouth to answer, Louis hiccups and flattens his hand against his chest, shaking his head. He points to his mouth, hiccups again, then again, snaps his mouth shut and pushes past Harry, who turns and follows him out of the club to the relative quiet of the street.

“You can stay, Harry.” Louis shoves his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans and turns to glance at Harry, who’s walking beside him. He hiccups and groans, kicking his foot out and stomping. “Fuck me, man. This sucks.”

6. Have you ever written something for a fic, but ended up removing a whole scene in its entirety and using it for something else?

i think so but tbh i can’t remember lol

7. Are you a linear writer? Or can you write scenes out of order and put them together at the end?

i’m a linear writer, but i will skip over parts of a scene like....... i’ll write a bunch of dialogue with nothing around it and fill in later

8. Betas/Britpickers… opinions?

always always always. i would literally not write if i couldn’t have a beta lol

9. How much do/can you write on average at any given time?

huh idk. i’m a fast writer, but i’d say like probably 1.5k a day is average for me?

10. How organised are you? Do you have lists and/or spreadsheets, or do you just wing it?

i’m the worst lol i tried to organize my google docs and that lasted like a week

11. What made you start writing?

i was bored and i thought hmmmm wonder if i could write a fic. turns out i could!

alrighty these 11 are from layne :D

1. What is your favorite trope to write? To read?

EXES/ENEMIES TO LOVERS

2. What other fandoms do you write in/have you written in?

not a one

3. What’s one fic idea you want to read, but would never write?

i honestly don’t know because i write what i want to read

4. When do you do most of your writing - morning, afternoon, night? Which time of day do you find most productive?

i think i’m most productive in the morning, but i write when i find the time

5. Writing routine? What do you drink? Do you have a go to snack?

i don’t have a routine. i usually drink water or coffee, but occasionally vodka, wine, or beer. i don’t snack while i write but now i want to

6. Have you ever been writing something and had to get up and walk away from it? What was it and why did you have to step away?

i had to walk away from tshu because it was stressing me out that i couldn’t invent time travel irl so i wrote heading for limbo for a few weeks and went back to it lol

7. What is your most favorite scene you’ve ever written?

oooooooooooooooooooooh oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh this is such a good question and i hate it lol i absolutely HATE picking favorites of anything but i’ll say that the scene from tshu when louis shows zayn his tattoo and everything right before and after that

8. Have you ever had an ending to a story, but couldn’t figure out how to start it? I don’t mean the typical -And they lived happily ever after - but a fully fleshed out ending with your usual writing pair, but you had no idea where to start? Did you ever write it?

nooooooope

9. What is the oddest thing you’ve ever drawn inspiration from?

idk i think being stuck in a hurricane with no power turning into don’t want shelter was pretty odd

10. You’ve accepted a prompt to write a fic using a Whitesnake song for the title. Which song do you choose, and what is your fic’s summary?

here i go again - 70s trucker au (i’m not summarizing because i’m actually planning to write this one, though the title with be different. probably.)

11. Your most recent fic is being made into a movie. What would you change your main characters’ names to and who would you fancast to play them?

ok so i’m cheating here by picking tshu instead of my most recent fic because my most recent fic is canon pwp lol and i’m sorry but i’m so lame with actors and stuff idk anyone who’d play them. and idk about names either! SORRY LAYNE

last but not least!

these 11 are from @realitybetterthanfiction

1. What made you realize you wanted to start writing fan fiction?

we were hanging at my parents’ house during a hurricane when they had power and we didn’t, and i was bored af and i think nic had just recently published her first fic and i was like....... huh i wonder if i can do that?

2. What fic changed you as a reader or a writer?

nic’s 5 times fic called fire and ice! i remember reading it and thinking WOOHOO PWP!!!! and then crying because she snuck all these FEELINGS in. so it made me think about writing in a different way, i guess. it can be fun and emo lol

3. What is your best writer’s block buster?

idk. haven’t really tried anything.

4. What’s the last non fan fiction book you’ve read?

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh a book about physics and space science (fic research lmaoooooooooooooooo)

5. If you had or have skills like our talented artists in the fandom, what’s one scene you would like to illustrate? (Can be your own work or another’s work)

THE JUGGLING SCENE FROM STRANDED IN A DREAM

6. What’s the best piece of writing advice you’ve ever gotten?

just keep writing! you can edit later!

7. What’s one genre you’re hesitant to write but really want to explore?

idk i don’t think i have one? maybe aliens?

8. Would you ever cowrite with someone else? And if you have, how to you divide the work?

nic and i are trying BUT IT’S HARD AND WE DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’RE DOING

9. Do friends outside the fandom know you write? Are they supportive? (I hope they are!!!)

no but my husband does and is

10. What is your favorite fic Niall? (give me all the Niall!)

niall and his churros!!!!!

11. What is your favorite supernatural category (examples, vampires, ABO, werewolves, angels, aliens). And can you give a girl some recs?

vampires!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i don’t have any recs because my faves are old and everyone knows them: madalynn_bohemia’s vampire series

#11/11/11 #11 questions #i didn't make any questions or tag anyone

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redditnosleep · 7 years ago

Text

Has Anyone Heard of The Left/Right Game?

by NeonTempo

Hi Guys,

Firstly, I want to apologise for not being at my laptop for the past few days. I had to attend a wedding in Scotland for one of my uni friends. They booked it in mid-week and, between you and me, I don’t think it’s going to last which means not only have I neglected you guys, but I’ve also wasted money on a rental suit and a John Lewis tea set.

As always thank you for your help in my ongoing attempt to find Alice. I’m now in full contact with the radio show she was working for, and they’ll be sending over Rob’s submission to the show as soon as they can. I’ve also looked up every town named Jubilation and have contacted residents from each of them. None of them have the particular junction mentioned in the previous log, “Sycamore Row” and “Acer Street”. I even combed google maps to make sure. I’m not sure what town Alice passed through last February but it doesn’t seem to exist on public record.

The guy who promised to retrace the route from the mirror shop came through, and has sent me a few possible addresses for Rob. He also mentioned looking into the game itself more. I’m not sure what he means by that but I want to be clear, please don’t play this game on my behalf. I don’t want that on my conscience.

Ok, without further ado, here’s the following log.

Thanks again.

The Left/Right Game [DRAFT 1] 10/02/2017

(Possible Opening) (I want to address you, the listener, for a moment, with an advance notice concerning the following episode. I’m sure it’s not been lost on you that every installment of the series so far has played host to some strange, unexplainable occurrence, and spanned a great many miles of travel. It goes without saying this has been by design. I’ve been summarising the countless hours of uneventful meandering and taking extra care to document the strange phenomena we’ve encountered along the way. I wanted the story to be fast moving, to have a real feel of progress with every chapter.

If that sense of exploratory intrigue is why you’re listening to this show, I completely understand. I’m certain it’s a primary draw for almost all of you; the twists, the turns, the mysterious, strange encounters along an impossible road.

But if that is the case, I feel it’s my duty to inform you that, apart from a few notable exceptions, there will be almost no ground covered in this segment, and the monsters we encounter will be all too human; stress, divisiveness, discomfort and, as one might imagine, grief.

If you want to read the synopsis of this episode on the website and wait for the next part, then you’ll be all caught up and I’m sure we’ll be back on our way, heading once more into the great unknown. But I feel it’s important to give the aftermath of Ace’s capture its own episode, in part due to the significance of the revelations that are unearthed in its wake, but also as a gesture of deference to the man we lost.

This is the story of our second night on the road.)

As we make the left turn, the horrifying space behind us is quickly replaced by a quiet emptiness ahead. The Wrangler crawls, defeated, toward the waiting convoy. The remaining four cars are parked haphazardly, taking up more than half the road. Rob drifts to the far end of the tarmac, looking to overtake and resume formation. Both of his hands rest on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on some distant point in space. It’s not hard to imagine that behind the focus and the quiet control, there’s a man in turmoil, a man who can’t bring himself to say anything, in fear of saying too much.

AS: This is Bristol to all cars. We’re heading back on the road. Get yourselves in formation and make way for those around you. We’ve got a while to drive before we stop for the night.

LILITH: Bristol where’s Ro… Ferryman?

AS: Ferryman’s here.

APOLLO: Where’s Ace?

AS: Ace is… Ace didn’t make it across.

APOLLO: Uhh what?

LILITH: What the fuck? Bristol where is he?

It would be simple to describe what had taken place, or at least summarise the barest facts; what happened to Ace, where he is now, why he isn’t coming back. But for some reason, I can’t utter a word about what's transpired. Something about the event itself makes it impossible to retell, as if the requisite phrases have been locked behind glass.

AS: We need to get to the stopping point. It isn’t safe to stay here.

Shortly after we’d turned the corner out of Sycamore Row, Rob implied that the rest of the days’ drive would be uneventful. Had he waited just a few minutes longer, he would have been entirely correct. We’re on the road for another four hours, both of us quietly attending to our own preoccupations as the forest gradually thins out. The landscape gives way to rolling cornfields, that stretch out beyond the horizon on both sides.

Nothing notable happens, which is ironic, as I find myself typing up a lot more notes than I need.

With the sun descends through an orange sky as we pull into a clearing, beside a wild grove of apple trees. Rob turns off the ignition and the two of us sit in silence. Rob’s need to concentrate on driving had been a good excuse to stay quiet, a good excuse to not face each other. Now the wheels aren’t turning however, and the true reason for our mutual reticence is all too clear.

AS: Do you think he’s dead?

ROB: I don’t know.

Rob’s response isn’t reassuring, and I’m oddly grateful for that. There are no comforting words he can give me, and any attempt would have seemed horrifically insincere, a mockery of the situation’s onerous gravity. Anyway, given the circumstances of Ace’s capture, I’m not even sure which answer I want to hear.

Lilith appears at my window, rapping her knuckles against the glass with an aggressive impatience. I’d expect nothing less about now. Everyone in the convoy has been made to follow a unilateral order, my order, without explanation. They’ve been travelling for hours accompanied by the glaring absence of another human being. Looking in the wing mirror, I glimpse the rest of the convoy, standing by their cars, watching the Wrangler expectantly.

Rob’s hands still haven’t left the wheel.

With a sharp intake of breath, I push the door open and step out onto the grass. The ground is soft below me as I walk over to the group. There’s recently been rain. I begin to address the rough semicircle, it almost feels like one of Rob’s briefings.

EVE: What’s happening Bristol?

APOLLO: Did Ace turn back?

I meet Apollo’s eye. For the briefest of moments, I consider telling them all exactly that. Maybe it would save them from the slow, heavy ache that’s currently weighing down my chest. Maybe it would just save me from a difficult conversation. Either way, I know I can't lie to them. They deserve the truth, however unpleasant.

AS: No he didn’t turn back; they crippled his car.

LILITH: The tow truck? Did he get out?

The answer doesn't come easily. I’m being pressed to say the words aloud and, in doing so, to fully acknowledge what happened. It feels like I’m being driven to a funeral, like I’m being verbally marched towards an open casket.

EVE: What happened to him?... Bristol…

ROB: He’s dead, Eve.

I hadn’t heard Rob step out of the car when he reaches the group. It’s hard to hide my relief as he takes over proceedings, addressing the group matter-of-factly. Now it really is like one of his briefings.

ROB: Two guys in the tow truck coming outta Jubilation. They got him. They took him back with them to the town. Way they were treatin’ him he won’t last long.

BONNIE: Oh goodness…

EVE: What? Rob what’re they going to do to him?

ROB: I can’t tell you. Nothing like this ever happened before.

LILITH: Well we need to go back.

ROB: That ain’t gonna happen.

LILITH: We’re not going to fucking abandon him.

AS: Lilith…

LILITH: We’re going back!

ROB: No we’re not.

APOLLO: Me and Rob can go. You know the place right Rob?

ROB: The kid’s dead Apollo.

LILITH: But he was alive when you last saw him?

ROB That’s right.

LILITH: So what point did you decide he was dead?

ROB: When I saw him being carried away with a fucking tow hook sticking out his mouth! Goddamn it.

Rob shouldn’t have said that. I understand his reasons of course; he wants to convey an important truth, that nothing can be done, or could have been done, to save Ace. His ghastly choice of words does the job, but it also sends a ripple of disturbance through the crowd, planting in everyone’s minds the gruesome image I’ve been trying all day to uproot.

Bonnie covers her mouth in shock and sorrow. Eve turns noticeably pale, and even Lilith, who is intent on leading the questioning, is taken aback.

LILITH: Did… did you see this Bristol?

I nod solemnly. The group bristles at my affirmation.

AS: I saw enough. I had to close my eyes when it happened, Rob tried to save him until…

Before I can finish my statement, my words are cut off by something truly unexpected. In spontaneous response to my words, a harsh outburst of mocking, sarcastic laughter rings out from within the convoy. One by one, we turn towards its source, until we all find ourselves staring at Bluejay. Her unapologetic chuckling fills the silent night air.

AS: Is something funny, Bluejay?

Bluejay tries to speak through her, all too slowly, waning laughter.

BLUEJAY: It’s just… you call yourself a journalist… Hah you closed your eyes, my god… there it is! There it is.

AS: I’m sorry?

BLUEJAY: Do you close your eyes for magic tricks too?

EVE: What the fuck Bluejay?

APOLLO: Come on, this isn’t the time.

BLUEJAY: Oh the time is well fucking overdue. Seriously are you all morons? The Left/Right Game is a hoax. It’s fake! Rob Guthard’s played you all like fucking children! Ace is fine, he’s probably an actor! Like the hitchhiker was an actor and those towns people too. I mean, come on.

The group is taken aback by Bluejay’s incredulous tirade. She’s clearly been holding her tongue since day one; our reaction to Ace’s capture representing just one step too far.

AS: I saw Rob shoot one of those townspeople with a hunting rifle. I saw the wound. It was real.

BLUEJAY: It was a blood filled squib. The rifle was probably loaded with blanks. You can buy both from any good theatrical retailer. Seriously what the fuck is wrong with you people?

LILITH: Ok firstly, I don’t like your fucking tone. Secondly, have you noticed that we’ve been the only cars on the road for almost two days? And what about Jubilation? Are you suggesting Rob hired out a whole town? That would be fucking impossible.

BLUEJAY: Oh yeah sure, THAT’S impossible, but it’s totally believable that we’re driving on a magic road. Maybe this is the highest budget scam I’ve ever seen but that’s all it is, a scam. And Al Jazeera here is giving him all the publicity he wants. I mean these people are sheep but you, you’re a fucking sycophant.

My mother used to tell me that you can’t strike a person from the high road. Staring down the barrel of Bluejay’s darkly self-satisfied grin, I’m more than tempted to make the descent.

AS: Ok Bluejay fair enough. I’m not going to pretend to know what’s going on here, for all I know you could be right. But why would Rob spend the production budget of a Hollywood film to trick a radio journalist and two vloggers. Trust me, our website does not get enough traffic for-

BLUEJAY: Oh don’t be so self-important. It’s not YOU he’s trying to fool.

Bluejay turns to Rob, fixing him a glare of pure, unadulterated triumph.

BLUEJAY: Admit it Rob. Admit that this is all a fucking farce. Admit that you knew who I was before I even got out of my car.

Rob’s face looks like it’s been carved from granite. The group looks to him for an answer, but he delivers his response directly to Bluejay, his eyes locked with hers.

ROB: It’s true… … I know who you are Denise.

The atmosphere changes, and for a moment, the night erupts into a foray of whispers. Rob’s answer clearly means something to everyone but me.

EVE: Denise?

LILITH: Denise Carver?

APOLLO: No. You serious?

AS: Sorry, who’s Denise Carver?

LILITH: She’s the biggest killjoy in the hobby.

BLUEJAY: Oh fuck you, you fucking air-head.

ROB: Denise here is a member of the Skeptics and Rationalist Institute of America. She likes to get herself invited on ghost hunting expeditions under a false name so she can debunk them publicly. You may've gathered she don’t believe in the supernatural.

BLUEJAY: Actually I do believe in the supernatural. I believe that it’s a billion dollar industry built on selling comfortable lies to the gullible, and it thrives on shitty journalists and attention whore bloggers who are willing to spread whatever shit they think will get them clicks.

AS: That’s why you took so long getting around the pine tree. Even when the truck was coming for Ace. You didn’t think any of it was real.

BLUEJAY: Uhh… did you?

As condescending as her delivery may be, her words spark a sudden realisation. It’s true, that with an unspeakably high budget and a few deft stooges, you could probably replicate most of what we’d seen on the road. Yet, without realising it, I’ve found myself agreeing with Rob’s version of events, personally defending the Left/Right Game’s validity against its decriers. I’d set off on this journey much like Bluejay, as a staunch, confident skeptic, but somewhere between the tunnel and this moment, I’d become a believer.

Bluejay notes my lack of protest, and turns back to Rob.

BLUEJAY: I’m flattered you went to all this trouble. I didn’t know my work was so offensive to you.

ROB: I admire your work Denise. Always have. That’s why I brought you along.

BLUEJAY: That is bullshit. Tell your friend Ace he can’t act for shit.

Bluejay pulls a pack of Marlboros out of her coat, lighting up immediately, and goes to sit on the hood of her nearby car. Her demeanour clearly signals that her part in the conversation is over, though her words leave a bitter aftertaste for everyone involved. To sympathise, it must be exhausting, spending two days with people whose opinions are diametrically opposed to your own, having to listen in silence while they corroborate their own seemingly preposterous views. Having said that however, I’m incredibly glad she’s stopped talking. It reminds me of a time when we got on much better.

The next question comes from Eve, her voice quivering.

EVE: Can… can we die here Rob?

The quiet force of her words turn everyone’s heads back towards Rob. It’s clear that others have been thinking the same thing, and they’re looking to Rob for an answer.

ROB: It’s possible. The road ain’t ever killed no one before. Not so long as everyone followed the rules.

LILITH: But you said in your emails it was dangerous.

ROB: That’s right.

LILITH: But you didn’t feel like telling us that we could die out here?

Rob turns to Lilith, clearly offended by her accusation.

ROB: In the 1920’s Jon Ebenrow killed 36 people and violated their bodies. In one of your videos, you guys went to his home in Virginia looking for the man’s ghost. Bonnie & Clyde once spent $500 to stay at the Iowa Murder House, a place that’s supposed to possess its victims and force’em to kill each other.

ROB: If you all honestly believed in what you were chasing, you should be accepting death as an outcome every time you step out. We are looking for evidence of another world. What we’re doing here has the scientific significance of the moon landings, the cultural significance of Columbus reaching the Americas and a whole lot of people died doing both. If you accepted the risk chasing down the ghost of a two-bit serial killer, you should be willing to accept the risk for this.

Lilith looks like she’s been scolded by a parent. There’s a fire in her eyes as she observes Rob, meeting his criticism with scorn.

LILITH: Oh so it’s Ace’s fault? He should have “accepted the risk”?

ROB: He did accept the risk. Ace made his decisions. He saw the dangers of the road first hand and he kept on goin'. I told you this place could be dangerous, and maybe you didn’t take that seriously. But you are NOT gonna treat me like I lured any of you here under false pretenses.

We stand for a few moments in the uncomfortable void left by Rob’s words. No one’s quite sure where to look.

APOLLO: Well what do we do now Rob? Do we turn around?

ROB: I ain’t gonna make that decision for you. If you want to split off and head back, I suggest you wait till mornin’ and stagger your leavin’ times by an hour or so. I ain’t never seen nothin’ like what happened back there before, but this is the most people I ever played the game with. Maybe that’s doin’ somethin’.

AS: What do you mean by that?

ROB: Well it’s the only thing that’s changed. Truth is, this ain’t our world, by all rights we shouldn’t be here. Even when it's one car the road always tries to discourage you. Maybe it’s like bacteria in a vein. One or two might slip by unnoticed but once it hits a certain point it’s like a uh…

AS: Like an immune response. You think the road’s pushing back on foreign objects?

ROB: And the bigger the group-

AS: The more violent the response…

It makes sense, until Bluejay laughs once more. Hearing her reaction, I reassess what I'm saying and I can’t help but feel a little foolish at the idea.

ROB: Maybe. It’s just a theory... I don’t know.

Rob collects himself, regaining his composure.

ROB: Either way, you all have the morning to decide if you want to keep on the road. Bristol, if you want to go home, you gotta find someone to take you. I ain’t ready to head back yet.

He turns away from the group and marches to the Wrangler. I don’t see him again for the rest of the evening, and I have no intention of bothering him. Eve and Lilith immediately crowd around me, asking if I’m alright and taking it in turns to disparage Rob’s actions. I can’t bring myself to join in. All I can bring myself to say is…

AS: Can I charge my phone in your car?

The group has very little to say for the rest of the night. A deep solemnity hangs in the air, dampening any semblance of good cheer like wet leaves on a dwindling fire. No one offers any conversation, Apollo’s reservoir of quips has run dry. Everyone’s wondering where they’ll be going from here, pondering the sort of person they are in circumstances such as this. Do they press on towards danger, or back towards safe and familiar ground. It’s a question they’ll have to figure out for themselves, ideally before sunrise.

I already have questions of my own.

About an hour after Rob’s departure, bidding fair well to the rest of the group, I walk over to Lilith and Eve’s car. My bag is resting on the front seat, a black wire leading inside from the charging port. I’ve decided not to tell the pair that I’ve been charging the detonator for a military grade explosive less than ten metres away from them. Perhaps it will come out during broadcast. If you’re listening to this, sorry girls.

I pick up my bag and, checking that no one’s looking, make a beeline for the apple grove. I march through the small wood, the air growing still, the sounds of the convoy quickly fading behind me. In the late evening darkness, with the moon shrouded by legion of crooked trees, I’m puzzled that I’m not more afraid. I’ve seen what happens on this road and, as I pass through the grove and into the neighbouring field, intentionally isolating myself from the rest of the group, I'm quite aware that help won’t be coming for me. Even so, as the corn rises up in every direction around me, I find myself almost incapable of fear. The day's events have drained me of emotion, and I'm now with everything else pulled away, I’m left with only one driving directive; an overpowering urge to figure this road out, regardless of what that entails.

Judging the distance I’ve traveled to be acceptably out of range from the convoy, I take the block of C4 out of my bag and place it on the ground. Gritting my teeth, my body cringing with self-inflicted dread, I press the power button on the Nokia and wait for something to happen. My worries of instant disintegration are allayed slightly as the grainy image of two outstretched hands comes into view, swiftly replaced by a menu screen.

I work fast, the words on the brown paper package constantly reminding me of what I’m putting at risk with every passing second.

Firstly, I type my number own number into the phone, assuming, or at least hoping, that the mechanism isn’t activated by outgoing calls. A few seconds later my cell phone rings, giving me the Nokia’s number. Checking the call logs, I find a second, different number, which seems to have made a call to the phone three times in quick succession. If I were a betting woman, which I sometimes am, I’d suggest that this number belongs to whoever built the bomb, the calls representing an attempt to test the trigger prior to its implementation. If I’m right, then this should be the personal number of whoever was driving that crashed car.

My third discovery, is a little bit more puzzling. No texts have been sent from this phone, however there is one solitary message residing in the phone’s inbox. It’s from a third, separate number, and it reads thus:

“Please don't do this Rob.”

I stare at those four words, the new information grating uncomfortably against my already preconceived theories. If this text is to be believed, and my previous deductions are at all accurate, then that means Rob Guthard was driving the car. That the C4 in the trunk had belonged to him. All this time I thought Rob may have been responsible for something terrible, but what if he was run off the road himself? If that is the case, it leads to an entirely new question… who was responsible for his crash?

As I begin to think it over, the air explodes around me.

I’m jolted out of my examination by a powerful, echoing voice which reverberates the very air. The corn is thrown into a frenzy as the noise echoes from every direction, as if spoken by the air itself.

VOICE: I’ve watched you questioning.

Without a second’s hesitation, I turn off the Nokia and throw the block into my bag. I jump to my feet and scan the cornfield for whoever spoke the words, backing away towards the convoy. Suddenly, realising how far I am from my friends, I break into a run, my boots pounding the dirt as I flee back to the woods.

Less than a minute later I burst out through the trees, my bag swinging with the weight of the block. Everyone’s in their cars, seemingly fast asleep. I’m starting to think they’re onto something. With no one to talk to, and a long day ahead of me, I suppose there’s no further recourse but to catch my breath, write up my immediate thoughts and then, finally, get some much needed rest.

I feel a dull pressure behind my eyes as I step towards the Wrangler. Quietly opening the back door next to my sleeping area, I carefully hide the block under my luggage. Then, silently closing the door again, I wander around to the passenger side, where my notes are waiting to be typed.

I reach out and grab the handle, gripping it tightly. I don’t open the door. In fact, after a moment staring through the glass, I let go.

The pressure behind my eyes gives way, and before I know it I’ve slid down to the damp ground, my back against the cool, hard metal of the door. A whine catches in my throat as ugly tears stream down my cheeks. My breath shudders as I inhale, and my attempt to breathe out plays to the world as a quiet, declining sob. The tears take me by surprise but I don’t wipe them away. In a bittersweet way, they’re welcome, necessary even. They carry with them a familiar sense of heartrending release. By the time they’ve run dry, I feel like I might just be able to move on from the events of the day. The sounds in my head are just a little quieter now I’ve paid them their due.

BONNIE: Are you ok honey?

I’m picking myself up when I see Bonnie walking carefully over to the Wrangler. I brush myself off, a little embarrassed at being caught.

AS: I didn’t know you were awake.

BONNIE: I’m a light sleeper, and Martin… Clyde snores. Do you need someone to talk to?

AS: I think I just need to sleep. Thanks Bonnie.

BONNIE: My name’s Linda, if you’re wondering.

AS: … Alice.

BONNIE: That’s a beautiful name. Well Alice, I know I don’t talk much, but I know how to listen… if you ever want me to.

For the first time since the pine fell, I find myself smiling. It’s a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless.

AS: Thank you Linda. I might take you up on that. Have a good night.

BONNIE:** Have a good night.

Bonnie starts to walk back to the car, before pausing and turning round. One last piece of comfort to offer.

BONNIE: And remember, everything will all be alright once we get to Wintery Bay.

I frown a little, unsure what Bonnie means. She smiles back blankly, then resumes the path back to her car. She’s mentioned that place before, upon leaving Jubilation, in what seemed like a moment of idle reminiscence. How she mentioned it just now doesn’t seem like reminiscence at all.

After everything that’s gone on, all the suspicion I’ve been directing at Rob, all my worry for Ace. Is something the matter with Bonnie?

Perhaps I’m misunderstanding, perhaps Bonnie misspoke, but all the same, the brief comfort her words afforded me has already faded away, leaving a familiar feeling of confusion and paranoia in its place.

I let myself into the passenger side, type up a few pressing notes and then climb through onto the air mattress. Sleep doesn’t come easily. I close my eyes and try to convince myself that tomorrow will be better than this harrowing day. Yet every time I make that particular argument, a voice in my head responds:

“That may depend on which way you turn.”

#creepy #horror story #series #left right game series #author: NeonTempo

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cursewoodrecap · 4 years ago

Text

Session 19: Hunters and Haunts

It’s time for some proper horror movie monsters, y’all.

Before leaving Mornheim, we ask Aubrey about the scroll in her mother’s writing. She’s baffled. “I mean, plenty of my ancestors dabbled in magic. The castle had plenty of secret rooms. But…my mom? As far as I knew, she was just a very talented gardener. That’s how my parents met! She was the castle gardener, he was the son of the lord, but she looked past that…”

She laughs nervously. “My mom wasn’t a druid. They don’t live in big fancy houses! They live in the woods and make friends with badgers! I mean, why would there even BE a druid in Mornheim?!”

“That’s a good question,” Gral admits. “Maybe to guard the old tomb in the Trollstones? If I understand correctly, it was a place blessed by one of the woods spirits they revere.”

“So you’re tellin’ me that MY MOM, Rosalind von Mornheim, was the secret mystical druidic guardian of a magic tomb that’s been on family property for, well, longer than it’s been our property?!”

“I mean, maybe? Skelbjor told us there always had to be a troll in Mornheim, maybe it’s like that?”

“I guess? Skelbjor’s been the local troll since Dad was a kid. He knew about all this?”

“Oh, nah, he just knew there’s always supposed to be a troll.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right, he’s a big galoot. Just tell me I don’t have to worry about this immortal troll demigod getting up and causing trouble. I have enough problems.”

“Don’t worry, he didn’t even get up for a direct summons from that dybbuk creep.”

Aubrey shudders. “If you ever wanna figure out a way to kill that guy for good, you have my help.”

Clem grimaces. “Believe me, I’d LOVE to.”

“Anyway. You folks cleaned up the water, stopped my people getting so sick, heck, maybe this’ll even slow down the undead situation. I owe you a lot of thanks. As the ruling lady of Mornheim, I can offer you…a bottle of hard cider or somethin’? I don’t have a lot. It takes all the money we have just to keep this place running. I’m sorry I can’t do more to reward you.”

Valeria smiles, the picture of a chivalrous knight. “I’m just glad to know there won’t be so much sickness. Hopefully things will improve for your people.”

“Thank you, I mean it. And, uh, sorry for glassing you in the face, Shoshana.”

The sorceress shrugs. “It’s water under the trollbridge. We all have family members who we would both hug and cry, and glass in the face. It’s chill.”

To everyone’s surprise, Valeria nods in commiseration.

“You’re welcome to stay if you want – I mean, things are crowded, the food sucks, and every night we get undead and penitents waking everybody up, so I understand if you don’t want to stick around. Can I treat you to breakfast?”

We get breakfast, though the offerings are meager. Mercedes is cooking, and Aubrey scowls at her. “I’m mad at Mercedes because she’s a morning person. Also she lit me on fire yesterday.”

Shoshana nods. “Okay, I understand lighting people on fire, but being a morning person is a capital offense. I know this, because I live with THIS ONE.” She points at Valeria, who shrugs in acknowledgment.

“As ruling lady of house of Mornheim, I hereby banish 8am from my lands,” Aubrey grumbles. “My house is now renamed Midafternoonsheim. Like, 2pmheim. Especially if I spent the last day and a half chasing some regenerating superghoul through the tunnels.”

Mercedes and Aubrey tell us about taking out the superghoul they fought last night, bickering the whole time. “Okay, you don’t speak Goblin, but if I shout words in Goblin it only ever means one thing. I don’t cast buff spells. It means there is about to be fire, get out of the way.”

“If you ever find a cloak of fire resistance, I could use it,” Aubrey deadpans at us. “I might smother her with it.”

Gral chats with Mercedes – apparently she’s a skilled chef as well as a mage! “Yes, it is part of pyromancer training. To learn to respect the gifts of Brother-in-Flame, all students must take up a fire-related trade. Pottery, blacksmithing, cooking. That way if you wash out of pyromancer school, you have a trade! And you have respect for flame and know how to commune with it. Working with non-magical fire gives a natural guidance toward using Brother-in-Flame’s gifts. I will say, cooking contests at pyromancer school can get rather intense. If you burn the food, you have to burn your jacket.”

“Would you say they get…heated?” Shoshana quips, shooting finger-guns. Mercedes ignores her.

Gral considers. “Did you ever meet an orc who went by Firesong?”

“Oh yeah! Orc bard, wore a mask?”

“Uh, all orc bards wear masks.”

“Yeah, she’s why we can’t have the chili cookoffs anymore. She had to leave the Republics under, uh…circumstances.”

“She told me she has fond memories of her time there.”

“Oh, so do I! Passions were already high, and a professional orcish bard providing background music did not lower the emotional intensity. And, well, we’re pyromancers. We thought we were far enough from the swamp gas wells! If it hadn’t been for that damn bird – oh, one second.” She cuts off what was promising to be an excellent story to open the window and hand a sizable plate of eggs outside to Skulbjor.

“The first time I saw him, I jumped out of my skin,” she confides. “Have you ever met a swamp troll? They’re the reason we’re so good at fire.”

“The pyromancer school was originally founded to defend the Republics against trolls. So it was, you know, a liiiiittle bit awkward. Horrible creatures, swamp trolls. YOU’RE GREAT, SKULBJOR,” she calls out the window. “But I did almost light him on fire, until Aubrey stopped me.”

Gral murmurs an aside to Clem. “Is it just Valdian trolls who are weird, then?”

“I dunno, maybe bridges calm them down?”

After breakfast, we prepare to get on the road. Valeria resummons Aethis, and Skulbjor gives our good chomper some quality scritches. Already, the waters flowing into the town appear clearer, less foreboding somehow. Everything else is still, honestly, super Tim Burton-y, but we’ll work on that.

We head out, traveling the now familiar path to Three Oaks Junction. We’re glad to see the bloody chain banners have been taken down. The locals have even made new banners, featuring a shield with a chunk taken out of it, symbolizing they’re under the protection of Duke Shieldeater!

Business has resumed as normal. Some of the outriders are guarding the gate to provide a more visible presence. Not a lot, but they stand out. It’s more of a visual reminder that more orcs are coming and town has agreed to be under protection.

Gral’s pretty psyched his diplomatic master plan is working. Meanwhile, we’ve got trading to do. We manage to sell our old Aquilian coins to Pierre the furrier, who says they’ll be popular in the Demish court. Valeria keeps one of the coins as a collectible.

We’ve got enough stuff to carry and traveling to do that we decide to buy a cart. Clem, familiar with travel from her drow caravan days, heads over to the Used Cart Lot out behind the cart repair, where a guy named Sal shows her around. Looks like these guys do good repair work, with a line of apprentices and masters dating back to Three Oaks himself. Maaaaybe they might get a lot of business from selling carts which will shortly need to be repaired, but Clem uses her know-how and also her impressive guns to intimidate the guy into showing her the good stuff instead of the junkers.

She picks up a nice solid dark oak cart, secondhand, repaired recently. Clem checks it over and it seems pretty sturdy; seems like scavengers found it at an abandoned farmhouse. We also pool funds to buy two draft horses, a shaggy pair that came as a team package. The chestnut one is named Pierogi, and the bay one is named Chestnut. Shoshana attempts to have a Horse Girl Movie moment, but rolls a nat 1 and gets ignored.

Valeria, of course, buys a map to Hoska.

Clem checks her mail – she’s received a form letter thank you from the embassy in Schotzengrad – and sends 200 gold back home to her caravan, along with an update letter. Valeria writes a letter reporting back to Order of the Rose.

Clem gets busy decorating the cart in drow fashion to make it look presentable. She makes a start; a proper drow cart is decorated and redecorated over years and years. She encourages the rest of us to add our own designs, because in drow culture it’s important to have everyone in the caravan participate. We’re not at all familiar with the symbolic language used in drow art, but we’ll give it a try during a few long rests on the road.

Now we have a cart and horses and money and we bought some potions! We roll a mediocre enough survival check to meet the DC, so we head to Hoeska without issue.

Clem’s heard about Hoeska, which stands high in the collective memory of the czar’s military. During the Kevan occupation, it was said that castle was haunted. It was built 400 years ago by Gottfried von Hoesk, a Valdian warlord who wanted to become the first king of a unified Greatwood. He failed, but his descendants have occasionally tried again, and this is their ancestral seat of power. The elves, knowing its significance, took it as one of their first targets and stationed a garrison of 500 elves there. When the Valdian rebellion kicked into high gear, one of the big things that convinced the elves to leave was that the entire garrison vanished without a trace.

Shoshana, well, she’s heard plenty of stories about Hoeska. Every time a Valdian ghost story needs a mad wizard, or a ghost, or a vampire, or generally anything that lives in a big spooky castle, it takes place in Hoeska. Most of those stories are tall tales and urban legends, but on the other hand, there’s been an awfully long history of vampires and ghosts and mad wizards in Valdia, many of whom originated from or occupied the towering, dark castle on its isolated mountain.

Merchants who have been there say it’s a sprawling fortress; every inhabitant since Gottfried von Hoesk, from his descendants to various nobles to the elves, has added something else to castle, so it’s a big mismatch of styles. Some parts are a grim fortress, some are a luxury palace. The castle’s changed hands, but the von Hoesk family is still around and more often than not they ride in and reclaim their ancestral home. A couple of mad wizards were von Hoesks; when something truly evil goes down, usually a bunch of knights ride in and clear it out and some other von Hoesk descendant moves in. Rinse and repeat.

When the Cursebreakers were founded, their first move was to clear out Hoeska and take it over as their headquarters. It’s the Usual Suspect of spooky stuff in Valdia, but if the Cursebreakers found anything relating to the Curse there, they didn’t tell anyone.

Shoshana tells some ghost stories about it. Valeria eats them up. There’s a long Valdian tradition of “having a cousin” who worked at Hoeska as a servant and totally saw something spooky.

With the cart it takes like a day and a half to get from Three Oaks to the edge of Hoeska territory. As we approach, we see a guard house sitting on the road. Gral can see from a distance that the squat stone building appears to be abandoned. That’s not normal. We consider: should we avoid it because it probably has monsters in it, or should we go clear out the monsters and see if there’s loot? We’re gonna go see if there’s loot.

We get out of the wagon and approach, weapons drawn. The small stone building, just big enough for a couple of guards to keep an eye on the road, looks like it was abandoned in a hurry. We case the place quickly; there’s dried blood on the ground in the back storeroom. Maybe someone was killed here, or injured and brought here to get patched up? There’s not a body or anything. Gral’s keen eyes pick up a recent set of footprints; someone came in, after the guards had left, did something here, and then headed out into the woods.

The woods? In the Cursewood? Near the haunted castle? DEFINITELY full of dangerous monsters. But we’re PCs, so we want go investigate the mystery. Aethis stays behind to guard the cart, mildly weirding out the horses.

We follow the tracks into woods. Clem hears something behind her, and as she turns, a furry something whips out of brush and spears her for minor damage. She looks down and sees a scorpion stinger emerging from her torso. She barely has time to register it’s glistening with poison when she’s accosted by massive slavering jaws. This thing looks like it was once a huge wolf, but now has mutated into something far worse, and its teeth are buried deep in Clem’s armor.

Clem goes pale under her ash-dark skin, and must save against the panic and flood of memories brought up by the sudden sight of an attacking wolf.

How in the HELL did that thing get so close without us noticing?! Hell, we were following humanoid tracks – where did this monstrosity come from?!

Valeria immediately smites the hell out of it, and it does enough extra damage we suspect it’s some kind of fiend. Unfortunately, it’s immune to being Frightened, so Gral’s plan to Dissonant Whispers it past two tanks fizzles.

The wolfbeast uses the same tactic on Valeria as it did on Clem – as Valeria’s distracted by deflecting the stinger, it strikes in with its massive jaws, for a huge amount of damage.

Dammit, it’s resistant to Shoshana’s lightning, too. We’re in trouble.

As we’re barely fending this thing off, we can hear snarling and barking coming toward us from another direction. It sounds like wolves or dogs, smaller than this thing tearing through us. And Gral can faintly hear booted humanoid footsteps hurrying alongside them.

Clem misses on her first panicked swing but catches it on the upswing, Great Weapon Master letting her drive the blade deep. Valeria slices it good too, vines tearing through its corrupted flesh. Gral tries to Phantasmal force and fails) It swings its poisonous tail, and Valeria goes down, unconscious. Then it chomps on Clem. Clem is down – except, hold on, not so fast. She uses Last Gasp to use her Second Wind as she falls, in accordance with the Deal she has made with the Pale King.

Panicking, Shosha deals it thunder damage which it does not resist. BIG BOOM THO. That was dumb of me.

Shoshana, panicking, hits the thing with thunder damage. It doesn’t have resistance, but now everything in the forest knows we’re here. As Valeria passes her first Death Save, Gral shouts a Healing Word to keep her alive.

Three large hounds burst from the trees snarling and howling. A voice in Elven shouts “Alexei! Kill! Go for legs!”

Gral can’t understand Elven, so he goes for the neck with his sickle and draws a nasty gash across its throat. The thing glances around, snarling, furious at being deprived its meal, but it recognizes it’s in danger and withdraws, sprinting away into the forest.

A large wood elf wearing a tattered Cursebreaker coat steps out of woods holding a club and a heavy blunderbuss. He whistles sharply, and the hounds abruptly stop their pursuit. “No further!” He gestures, and the hounds spread out and form a perimeter.

“I do not know you,” he says in Valdian, though with a thick elven accent. “You fought the Shusva.”

“…The what?”

“That thing, the Shusva. At least, I found name in book. Seemed similar to this, yes? I am Ser Boris, of Cursebreaker Knights. What brings you here? Is dangerous territory.”

“Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service! We’ve been working with Ser Quentin Morozov.”

A grin breaks across his thickly bearded face. “Ah, Ser Morozov! I know him. The grumpy one! He talks to people, finds what is in hearts and minds. Goes to towns, finds cultists. As he is to the people, I am to the beasts.”

“Yes, we had information for him and needed to make a report. Also we were trying to meet up with another person headed this way?”

He grimaces. “How recently? This Shusva has been stalking roads.”

“Um, recent?” Shoshana interjects. “But he’s accompanied by two fuckhuge goliaths, so…?”

“Oh, yes, him. He is fine. Oh! You injured it!” Ser Boris cries, distracted. He pulls out a small waxed pouch and grabs a chunk of flesh off Clem’s blade. “Good! With this, we can track its scent! Not today, though, you are wounded. Must get you two to castle.”

“These are Alexei, Sasha, and Xander,” he introduces his hounds, which have heeled obediently.

“You are – ah! A drow!” He greets Clem in Elven. “You are very far from home!”

“Ah, home is where you make it,” she replies in kind.

He laughs. “Indeed, indeed. Come, we must share stories back at castle! I move here during war, think it would be peaceful.”

“Yeah, bit of a mistake, huh?”

“I do well enough. I have my dogs, I receive employment. And coat! Employment with coat is better than employment without coat, da?”

We go back to our cart, and Ser Boris is immediately taken with Aethis. “Oh, my! A wonderful beastie. Is it Celestial? May I see teeth?”

Valeria’s happy to make introductions.

“Have you cared for such a creature before? They are adapted for warm streams, not cold woods like these, you know.”

“Do they need any further care than occasional spellwork? That’s all they told us at the academy,” Valeria says, puzzled.

“Is gift from Rack, no? Then double important you take good care! It does not need it, but you must. Caring for exotic mount in inhospitable climate is difficult task. I will give you literature. You would not believe poor beasts Dr. Galvan had, I am giving him dietary instructions, seeing if I can create sweater for them to keep warm…”

He goes back to cooing over Aethis. “Nice luster on scales, though that is expected. Feets---oh, you’ve been running on hard road, you’ll get used to that. Very well. Castle is this way!”

He whistles, and the three hounds form a triangle around group. “Do not wander too far off, they may try to herd you.”

It’s somewhere around here that the pun finally hits the players. Ser Boris. Three dogs. …Cerberus.

The path winds up to the dramatic gates of castle Hoeska.

“Now if you look there, you will see castle.” A lightning bolt cracks dramatically across the sky, casting the castle in ominous silhouette.

“It always does that. It is very stormy around here. I do not know why. Impossible to get good sunlight. I worry for Alexei, he likes to frolic in sun, in fields of flowers. I am not allowed to let him in garden. How will Alexei frolic without field of flowers?”

There’s a Cursebreaker Knight at the gates, some kind of battlemage with a big staff. Next to him is a grim figure in full plate, holding a halberd and looking distinctly displeased to see us.

“Do not mind them, the castle guards do not appreciate us being here,” Ser Boris tells us cheerfully. “It is okay, we have permission. They do not like that we do their job better than them. Hello friend!” He waves. “These are guests, please open gate!”

The guard glares.

“Pretty please, open gate for Ser Boris and friends? And Alexei and Sacha! Oh, have you met Xander yet?”

The guard silently opens the gate, his withering scowl not diminishing a bit.

“I do not know what problem is. Must have woke up on wrong side of bed,” Boris chatters as we enter. “Maybe should not leave lunch where dogs can get it. Guard knows I am here with dogs! Maybe dogs have done nothing wrong ever in their life and guard should apologize for making such a fuss!”

We’re past the castle walls, in a large courtyard before entering the keep proper. As we pass our carts and horses off to some stablehands, we notice a familiar cart and two draft gatorbeasts in the stables, with quilted blankets thrown over them against the chill.

Parked incongruously among the carts is a looming metal construct in a hulking, vaguely humanoid shape, with buzz-saw arms protruding from the front and a machined metal owl mask affixed to what might charitably be called the face area. Peeling paint on the front reads “Valdian Tree Company,” and it’s chained to a heavy wagon proudly bearing the insignia of the Sturmhearst University College of Engineering.

Ser Boris shrugs. “Many visitors are here now. One shows up with that thing. I do not like. Not natural, so much metal moving on own.”

We step into the grand hallway of castle, past another set of guards and a big statue of a fine-featured man in armor, labeled Gottfried von Hoesk. Ah, Ingborg and Bjorn are there, drinking.

We hear someone clear his throat imperiously, and turn to see Ser Quentin, regarding us with annoyance. “You’re late,” he bites out pointedly.

“Uh, did we make an appointment to see you? Because I was certainly not informed,” Shoshana snarks back.

He doesn’t take the bait. “So. The Pale King.”

“…Yup!”

“That letter and those words are why we’ve been stuck here. You’ve been escalated to the higher ups, who would very much like to hear what you have to report in person. Follow me. The dogs can stay here.”

Ser Boris grumbles. “Is fine, they do not bite! Well, they might bite sandvich. I could go for sandvich. I get us all sandviches, yes?”

We head up grand winding stairs, into the more palatial section of castle, and find ourselves passing through long dark galleries full of portraits of von Hoesk ancestors. The eyes follow us as we walk by, natch.

The path we take is DEFINITELY a little bit Scooby Dooby Doors. Ser Quentin Definitely Does Not Get Lost on the way there, what are you talking about? “This place was built by a succession of mad architects in an intergenerational argument with each other, of course it’s a damn maze,” he huffs.

Eventually, we are taken into a small, elegant drawing room. Two figures sit in comfortable armchairs in front of a roaring fire.

“Allow me to present Ser Brigid Konig,” Ser Quentin states formally, gesturing to the old woman calmly knitting in the chair on the left.

The other chair holds a tall man with sharp cheekbones, a fine black and red outfit, and rather similar features to the statue in the foyer. “Our host, Ludwig von Hoesk,” Quentin introduces stiffly.

“Hello,” the old woman, Ser Brigid, greets us warmly. “Our dear Quentin has told me so very little about you. Quentin, did you offer them anything to eat? It would be quite rude to let our guests go hungry.”

“I am told Ser Boris has arranged for sandwiches,”

“Perfect. Sit down, everyone, pull up a chair.”

Gral unnatch 20s a perception. That Ludwig von Hoesk – maybe Gral’s gotten better at picking up on this sort of thing since we’ve spent so much time in in Mornheim, but there’s something odd about that fella. He’s a little too still when he sits still, his motion a little too deliberate. And his skin is awfully pale. The old lady? Her, he can’t get a read on, even with a 20. Daaaaang.

“If you would, please, tell us of your travels. Ser Morozov tells us you first worked together in Ovruch; why don’t you start there?” Ser Brigid asks.

We take turns describing the entities we’ve seen, how we’ve fought them, and how they seem to categorize themselves. We produce the Eyegis as evidence of the Key, and explain what the Astronomer told us regarding the concept of Prisoners.

Ludwig, though very reserved, seems keenly interested in Clem’s tale of Mornheim. Once we’ve told our tale, he asks us to produce the tapestry we took from the cultists in the manor. He examines the partially-woven image carefully, tracing a thin finger over the crowned, skeletal figure.

“Well, Luddy, does it look familiar?” Ser Brigid asks smugly.

The aristocrat is too dignified to roll his eyes, but just barely. “It does. If we’re just going to-“

“Oh, we’d have to clue them in sooner or later. They’ve done more in a few weeks than half my agents have done in years!”

Ser Quentin grumbles audibly. She ignores him.

“Ludwig, is that the symbol you described to me?”

“Yes.”

“And the name?”

“Yes.”

“Do you consider that independent verification of what I told you?”

“Yes.”

“So I think you owe me something, old friend.”

He lets out a huffy, aristocratic sigh. “Yes, fine. You weren’t lying, and I was right not to kill you. I apologize for doubting you.”

“Thank you. Oh, the sandwiches are here!”

He turns his attention back to the tapestry. “Yes, this is the thing that appeared to me and offered me a position at the head of its armies.”

…oh?!?!

He rolls his eyes at our alarm. “I refused, naturally,” he sniffs.

“I should hope so!” Valeria says, and removes her hand from her sword hilt.

“I have no interest in submitting myself to some power-hungry usurper.”

Ser Brigid winks at us. “Perhaps I should re-introduce us properly. My name is Ser Brigid Konig. I was on my way to Valdshart when the city went dark, to formally retire as the Duke’s chief vampire hunter.”

“And this is Ludwig von Hoesk. His son built this castle! For the past couple hundred years, my office has been dedicated solely to hunting and killing him. Greetings!”

She rolls her eyes at her companion, who looks a bit miffed. “Really. They would have figured it out eventually. And you are not subtle about it. With the spooky castle? And the red and black outfit? C’mon, Luddy.”

“A few years ago, shortly after the curse manifested, I had a dream. This in itself is quite unusual; I do not normally experience dreams. In it, a creature resembling the figure on your tapestry appeared to me, offering a position as general of its armies. As its power grew, it would gain control of all undead in Valdia, and it would like myself and my followers to be the first and most honored of its forces. Naturally I refused. There is only one king in Valdia, and it is not some strange skeletal specter.”

“Wait, we have a king?” Shoshana blurts. “…oh. You mean yourself, don’t you.”

“Yes. It was my son’s idea. And what can I say, I spoiled the boy. Now, I was wondering what to do about this vision when who shows up but a bunch of angry knights with crossbows? Not that we’re not used to such incursions.”

“Oh, I’ve been trying to storm this place for years,” Ser Brigid agrees airily. “Every time we try, a mysterious new von Hoesk heir shows up with money and a whole court of followers! People buy it every time. Wishful thinking, I suppose.”

“She accused me of being behind the Curse,” Ludwig explains dryly. “I argued otherwise, and eventually we came to an agreement. Which is why Brigid Konig, my worst nightmare, HAS BEEN LIVING IN MY HOUSE.”

“Yes!” she agrees, with a beatific granny smile. “This way, if you ARE behind it, I can kill you!” She lifts the blanket she’s knitting just enough to give us a peek at the crossbow hidden underneath. Gral sees runes on the crossbow similar to his heartseeker bolts. “The rules are simple! I get to use his house and money, and his people assist as we try to get to bottom of this thing! And in exchange, I don’t kill him!”

Ludwig sighs. “She removes the monsters. I don’t appreciate monsters in my land, and I genuinely will do anything in my not inconsiderable power to drive out these ruinous Prisoners. Even if it means entertaining a woman who’s been a thorn in my side for the last sixty years.”

“Not a thorn, arrows!” she retorts cheerfully. “And a scythe one time. You got better, you big baby!”

“Of course I got better, I’m a vampire.”

Quentin sighs. “Needless to say, all information disclosed in this room is top secret. Frankly, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have chosen to divulge even this much.”

Ser Brigid turns her level gaze on him. “Please. The orc would have spotted something and said ‘My goodness, Kyr Argent, I suspect something is up with that handsome and brooding fellow,’ and then she would have Detected Undead, and killed several guards, and the castle would be on fire, and we’d be in the dungeons having this conversation, but it would be far more awkward!” She turns to us. “Have I read the situation right?”

“…yup,” admits Valeria.

“See? Now Quentin, dear, eat your sandwich, you’re far too skinny.”

Ludwig is not eating a sandwich. He has a glass of red wine, of course.

They grill us a bit about the Key, specifically, and the Sturmhearst scholars we met who seem rather susceptible to the whole knowledge-seeking lure.

“Hmm, yes. We have several guests here, two of whom are professors. Professor Galvan, whom you’ve met, and a visitor from Sturmhearst. Professor Bjork, from the College of Engineering. I have some suspicions about things going on there. He’s told us a few concerning stories; you might want to pick his brain and get your take on the situation.”

“Such an august institution,” Ludwig agrees. “I gave some of the money to start the place, I’d hate to see it go bad.”

We wonder if he knows Dr. Wendell. But it’s getting late, and while the party discusses their experiences in great detail, we’re going to cut session and pick back up once they’re ready to go meet some other guests of the von Hoesks.

#the cursewood #cursebreaker knights #quentin morozov #ser boris #von hoesk #hoeska #aubrey von mornheim #skelbjor #mercedes the pyromancer #clem haxan #valeria argent #gral omokk'duu #shoshana bat chaya #The Pale King #The Hunt

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miss-pearlescent · 8 years ago

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A Random L3m0n :P (M)

Summary: You, stuck at home. Him, travelling for work. Homesickness hits him hard, et voilà! Word count: 2 760 A/N: I haven’t uploaded any work in a year, sorry. Recently, I stumbled across a Reddit AMA from the guy who created Quizilla, and it made me go back to my drafts. The title is dedicated to my inner third-grader, who knew {`{~lemons~}`} were inappropriate to read at her age but still did it anyway. Enjoy :)

You threw on one of his t-shirts and crawled into bed, your bones aching and your eyes already struggling to stay open. Work had gone overtime and the last thing you wanted to do was stare at another computer screen.

But you did want to look at your boyfriend’s face.

Finding his screen name on the laptop in your lap, you sent a video call. Then you leaned your head back and closed your eyes for just a few seconds. Your timing didn’t always match with his and video calls were always a hit or miss, but the two of you strived to do them as much as possible.

His job forced him to travel around the world for weeks to months at a time whereas your job forced you to sit in front of a computer screen for insane hours. It was all good money and you both enjoyed your work, but you couldn’t deny that it was difficult.

Especially on nights like tonight, when you wanted somebody to talk to and then cuddle with.

“Babe,” his voice drifted through your thoughts and your eyes fluttered open. His slow grin instantly gave a lift to your mood. “Sleepy already?”

You shook your head and propped your cheek on your fist. “Good morning to you, too.” You suppressed a yawn and nodded at his damp hair that clung to his forehead. “Showered already?”

“Yep,” he replied, standing up straight and stepping back to show his bare chest. “Showered just for you,” he added with a wink before heading to his closet.

You felt the need to shout to him in the closet, even though you knew he had an earpiece on that allowed him to hear and speak with you throughout the room. “How were the rounds last night?”

Part of his work involved mock competitions within the company to sell a certain product. At each round, teams had to sell an imaginary item and winning the competition meant winning a contract to market the company’s next product at its release. It sounded like great fun for adrenaline junkies but these conferences usually lasted a full month.

Which meant if any of your boyfriend’s trips fell outside of your holidays, you were forced to have pillowtalk through a screen.

A few seconds passed before he replied and you could hear the ruffling of a shirt. “They went okay. Not sure how to judges took it, but Team C thought we could totally make it to the finals.”

Team C was a group that was eliminated just two days ago. Teams were very competitive with each other, to the point of being rude, until they were eliminated. Then they were best friends who supported and cheered each other on. But finals...

Finals meant he would be at the conference for another week at the very least.

And it had already been three weeks.

While he had been gone for longer periods at a time, this trip seemed more difficult somehow. He seemed more involved in his work than ever before and you loved his drive for success. But as his girlfriend, did you deserve to sit in the backseat and just watch your relationship slowly turn into one where you only saw each other hardly an hour a day? Through a screen, no less.

You opened your mouth to make a remark but quickly shut it. What could you have said anyway? That you wished he would forfeit the competition and come home already?

That was childish and you were not going to ruin a great two-year relationship by suddenly acting childish just because you were particularly tired today.

“I think you’ll get in,” you said instead. “Your team is solid, even if you had to switch out a leader last year. And you mentioned you’re familiar with the contractors this time around, right? That’s got to be some kind of leverage above the others.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You could practically see his shrug through the wall. Sometimes, he was modest to a fault. “How was work today? You sound like you want to send somebody through the office shredder.” He came out of the closet with a fresh button-up and walked towards the screen. He was close enough that you could make out the slight dark circles under his eyes.

You bit back the need to ask him if he was getting enough sleep.

Instead, you made a sound between a laugh and a groan as he picked up a toothbrush. “I wish I could send myself through the shredder. I should have never taken on this new project.”

But really, what choice did you have when your boss dropped a file box the size of Russia on your desk and then compliment your work ethic, buttering you up with things like “nobody would get this done as fast as you.”

“Don’t send yourself through the shredder,” he said in a mock command and squeezed some toothpaste.

“Hm, how about just shredding myself for now and then coming back as a new person when my deadline is over?” you joked.

“No,” he said with toothpaste foam slurring his words. He waved his toothbrush around. “You won’t want to miss the next few days.”

You gave a soft sigh and laid down on your side, propping the laptop on his side of the bed. “And why’s that?”

He rinsed his mouth and you waited for him to finish. Sometimes, you liked this arrangement because it gave you ample time to simply watch him go about his routines. He was very methodic and thorough, and you liked noticing the slight changes he made between home and a hotel room.

“For starters,” he began, “you have a two days off starting tomorrow.”

Teasingly, you rolled your eyes. “So what, I can catch the live stream of your conference?” Yeah, you loved watching him but not when you had to wait through hours of men in suits speaking about ridiculous inventions just to see him speak for five minutes max.

He turned and gave a smirk. “Of course.” Wrapping a navy blue tie around his neck, he stuck his tongue out to knot it, staring intently at the mirror that was right above his screen.

It was dumb, but you itched to reach out and help him with his tie despite your exhaustion and his expertise. It brought back memories of when you first started dating and you had bought him a new set of ties in an array of colours. He used them all regularly through the years, but you liked the navy blue skinny tie the best.

Your eyelids began to drift downward. The softness of the pillow was suddenly very inviting.

“Secondly,” he started again, his voice a soft lull. “I think your week will be very exciting, considering how much work you’ve already finished.”

The last thing you saw before your eyes closed was him stepping closer to the screen. He was all dressed for work and ready to leave soon. You wished you could stay awake just five minutes longer.

You heard the sound of a quick kiss and then, “good night, babe. See you soon.”

“Don’t forget your keys,” you mumbled, not even sure if he heard. It was simply something you always reminded him before he left.

He chuckled. “I won’t.”

It wasn’t until a bit later when your subconscious noticed that he hadn’t said his usual reply of “and don’t forget to lock your doors.”

But you were already too far gone.

You were having the dream that he always warned you about. You always forgot to lock the doors when you were home, which was ironic because you always remembered to lock your doors when you were out.

Now, your dream self was hiding in a cupboard because somebody had snuck into the house and you couldn’t wake yourself up.

The stranger was walking up the stairs and—no, your boyfriend was upstairs!

You called his name but only heard a grunt. Taking the stairs two at a time, you chided yourself. Ever since you were a teenager, your mother always told you you would be a burglar’s first target. You brushed it off, relying on the fact that you lived in a relatively safe neighbourhood. But the fact that your boyfriend would face the consequences of your mistake was something you couldn’t live with.

A crowbar was conveniently in your hand as you reached to open the door. Your heart was racing but there was no sense in delaying it. Feet firmly planted to the hardwood floor, you turned the door knob and swung the door wide open, ready to fight.

You froze. On your bed was you and...a figure above you. He was dressed like your boyfriend, in a white shirt and black pants; he had his hair styled the same way your boyfriend always did, if a bit mussed; he even wore the same gold watch, grey socks, and navy blue tie.

But your boyfriend was supposed to be on a business trip.

In an instant, you were suddenly propelled onto the bed, staring up at the man above you. You strained to see his face but it was dark and he covered it well with his hair. Slowly, he slid down your body.

Which was covered by nothing but a blanket!

You squeaked and gripped the edge of the blanket with both hands. Your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. Why, out of all nights in your life, were you sleeping naked?

Hands wrapped around your ankles and your legs were wretched open. You gasped as the cold air hit your core, and you watched as the figure found his way under the thin sheet that barely did its job.

You bit the blanket as you felt warm breath tickle your thighs. Your boyfriend’s soothing voice played in the background, calming your nerves.

“How long has this been a fantasy of yours?”

You gulped down a moan as fingers traced close to your centre. Your ankles were free but your legs felt like lead, frozen in place to cradle a warm and oddly familiar body.

“I’m sorry I left you for so long. God, you’re so wet from waiting.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine that this stranger was your boyfriend. It was a dream, right? And you could do whatever you wanted in a dream, even if that was pretending your boyfriend was a burglar in your bed.

Oh, it was a dream.

A flood of sadness rushed over you. Your boyfriend wasn’t going to be back for another month, and you were left to merely fantasize about him. Who knew how many attractive women he was meeting while you were stuck in an office with bosses and managers that were talking about the arrival of their third grandkid.

It was a dream and you could do whatever you wanted in a dream.

You opened your legs wider and lifted your hips, urging your boyfriend to take you.

The sheet had lifted to cover only your breasts. The figure was definitely the spitting image of your boyfriend now even if you still couldn’t make out his face.

“That’s my girl,” his voice drifted around the room with a chuckle.

He teased, holding you up for him to kiss everywhere except where you needed it.

Your hands found his hair and tugged him closer. “Please,” you whimpered. “Please, before I wake up...”

A pause.

And then slowly, so infuriatingly slowly, he set his lips on your little bud. Just a light kiss, and then you felt a finger slide inside.

You heard a low moan. “You should have told me.” Another finger slipped in easily to join the first. “I’m never leaving you again.”

You shook your head wearily. “Work. You have—” Your breath caught as his fingers curled and worked inside you. A small mewl escaped as you breathed out, “it’s your job.”

“It’s also my job to keep you happy.” He drew his fingers out and you protested at the emptiness. “And satisfied.”

His fingers entered you again, deeper this time, stretching you.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Are you satisfied?”

You shrugged, just wanting him to touch you, kiss you, make love to you without any questions.

But he was still slow, too slow. “Tell me,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “the truth.”

Tears threatened to spill out. “No,” you blurted as you bucked your hips to meet his fingers. “I’m not satisfied, okay?”

He stopped and you fell back onto the bed, tired and frustrated beyond comprehension.

“I wish you were here with me, or I was there with you. I wish I could do all the clingy girlfriend things I used to do, like making lunchboxes for you and ironing your stupid clothes.”

His fingers were still inside you and you began to close your legs. This was an awkward position to confess your feelings.

But he wouldn’t have it. He pushed your knees away until you were bare to him, and his fingers began pumping in a fast but steady rhythm.

Your body felt like jelly.

“I miss this. I miss you.” His voice was raspy, the way it always was when he was turned on. “More. Tell me more about what you want to do with me.”

You fisted the bedsheets. “I want to cover your car in mud just so we have to wash it and have a waterfight. I want to window shop for furniture we don’t need and clothes that will go out of style next season.”

Your dream boyfriend finally put his lips to your core and kissed you the way you wanted it: hard and rough. You pressed him closer, turned on by the messy noises, the sucking and the lapping.

“And late night dinners at dingy pizza shops,” you ground out. “Then some drinking so we can...”

You trailed off, unable to form words anymore as his tongue and fingers worked together to bring you to the edge. You saw stars behind your eyes, and you heard distantly your voice calling out his name.

A shudder rocked your spine and you arched into him. Your body pulsed with every flick of his tongue and every swipe of his finger. He pushed you to your climax over and over, not letting up until you basically had his head in a dead lock between your thighs.

When your body finally felt ready to lie back into bed, your eyes slowly opened to the sunlight peeking through your room. You gave a satisfied sigh, if only a little disheartened.

That dream was one of the best of your life, and you were thankful that it played out all the way to the end. But it was the end, and you had to face the reality of another day without your boyfriend.

Your fingers trailed down your body, grazing past the rough hand that lay at your belly and reaching for the wetness that was a result of a messy dream.

You blinked and jackknifed up. A rough hand?

Your boyfriend looked up at you from between your legs, a slow grin stretching from ear to ear. He licked his lips, wet and slightly swollen.

Tears formed in your eyes as you reached out to stroke his face, not sure if he was real or not. “You’re not... It was... Your trip was supposed to last another month!” you said incredulously.

“I lied,” he murmured nonchalantly with a kiss on your belly button. “We actually lost yesterday.” Another kiss, this time on your chin.

You still wore his t-shirt while he was still in his formal attire. Your eyes couldn’t look away as you clung onto his tie, determined to keep him close. “For real?” You tried not to sound too happy about it.

He gave a small laugh. “For real.”

You wrapped him in a bear hug.

His arms snaked around your waist, holding you tightly as he spoke. “So instead of moping with my team, I booked the fastest flight out of there.“ He settled in next to you and brought the blanket up to cover the both of you. He kissed you on the cheek and then slowly on the lips. “And it was a perfect opportunity to play out one of your fantasies and teach you a lesson to keep your doors locked.”

You turned red from embarrassment and hid your face in his neck. “Please, spare me,” you groaned.

His chest rumbled with laughter. “Miss you, too.”

---

Thank you for making it all the way here! I have a lot of drafts and this was one that was almost finished so I just decided to finish it on a whim (and by “a whim,” I mean Kim Jongin exposing his abs in a recent performance!!!) Hope you guys liked it :) Hopefully I will finish all my other million drafts...haha.

#kpop scenarios #exo scenarios #bts scenarios #Kai scenarios #kai #jongin #LOL even though this scenario is an optional bias and has no names #we all know I was thinking of kim jongin #and maybe a little bit of #taeyong #my smol boy lee taeyong #Many years later I am still too lazy to tag my work effectively

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