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jmalkki · 4 years ago

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From head canon to on-screen reality

Episode 6 of Season 3. You, guys.

My. Goodness.

What oddly specific joy.

One has secretly hoped a scene of this nature to eventually make it onto the show, and the promo images promised it was coming now. So, one went in expecting to finally see on screen the sweet sweet scene of the couple all domestic, chilling on their bed, sharing thoughts; the one one has imagined so many times in various forms, be it in text or in illustrations. Seemingly topped with a kiss, as well - gorgeous for the unremarkable mundanity of itself, without any story points or grand gestures tied to it.

Though the promo image promised kiss was not to be seen, what the domestically set scene itself delivered in substance was such a validating treat one could not feel one bit amiss; something one couldn’t have expected, hoped for, or imagined to come worth.

The end scenes of the episode made some major personal head canons true on screen! Namely the fact of Paul immediately recognizing the nature of one talking by oneself as if to a lost loved one, and admitting carrying Hugh similarly with him after Dear Doctor’s death. And, the fact, that both of the men hate the augmentations on Paul’s arms.

Seemingly tiny things perhaps, but these have both been some of the most persistent themes in my past writing of these two. And much as I abhor to go back to my past scribbles, I felt compelled to quickly go through whole of the Honey Mushroom series, and collect below all of the narratives focused on Paul talking to Hugh in his mind, and the instances mentioning the shared bother of the spore drive augmentations.

Which now suddenly as if offer possible context for the on-screen dialogue:

“God, I hated those things.” “I hated them more.”

I realize this is quite individual a glee, specific to curious personal head canon nuggets (and perhaps to those who might’ve enjoyed the nuggets / nursed any similar own ideas), but I am beyond ecstatic for those nuggets to have now made it on screen and/or fit into the canon, complementary to the narrative!

How ever coincidental, I think one must thank at least Anne Cofell Saunders, the writer of the episode, for including these specific allusions / plot directions, and in doing so making reality of one’s particular head canons. And, that gratitude must also be extended to anyone else, who might’ve been involved in what ever capacity in the process of bringing these into the show’s in-universe reality.

Feels like such an immense affirmation of one’s year(s) spent passionately imagining these unmentioned-in-canon dimensions (regardless how ever fumblingly). Such joy to see these once dearly envisioned behind-the-scenes aspects brought on screen, and into the canon.

More small, but notable glees: Paul’s PADD on the nightstand. And the men sleeping on the ‘correct’ sides of the bed, which has also been a theme in exploring the character of Paul. (And, in fact, Paul scratching the augmentations/residuals, too *heehee*).

Okay. Let’s go.

Passages of the augmentations being a bother:

From my second ever narrative, and the first to mention the augmentations, if not yet for the precise shared discomfort factor. Also the first to feature Paul talking to Hugh after the death:

[He shifted on the chair and reached for his forearm. Feeling out the hard plastic augmentation with his fingers. Rubbing it in a circular motion on top of his muscles, letting the gentle pressure push against his bones.

They were another reason - the augmentations - why he had felt so bare at the gym dressing rooms. He had only ever really bared them in the engineering for their designed purpose, and with Hugh around in the sickbay or in the confinements of their quarters. He had showed them to few others of course on occasion, but on his own discretion. He wasn’t comfortable letting them ‘hang out’ like he had just done. It too left him feeling exposed.

“They keep insisting I go in for a medical examination”, Paul muttered out quietly, while skimming through his calendar, like he was expecting Hugh - his resident consultant on all things medical - to actually answer.]

- We Are Undone, But Soldier On

From my only ‘alternative future’ story, with the first ever allusion to the shared discomfort with the apparatus. Also the narrative, which solidified the idea of Paul harboring Hugh ‘alive’ in his mind well after the death:

[ Paul smiled. He put his hand in his hair again, mussed it around a bit, adjusting it from side to side, observing it closely from the mirror. “And you won’t mind this either?” He asked with a faint look of apprehension on his face, “it’s still getting thinner and thinner each year.” “You know I always loved that”, Hugh spoke to him with most affectionate tone, as Paul could feel fingers play with the little swirl of thinning hair on the back of his head, “it makes you look irresistibly manly.”

“Like these”, Hugh continued, as Paul raised his arms in front of himself, displaying the thick, fluffy white hair covering his forearms, “I love falling asleep into this softness.” “Well, you’re in luck then. They sure aren’t thinning any”, Paul snickered, “I think the hair on my head might be migrating there in fact”. He could hear Hugh chuckle and felt a light encouraging pat on his hips.

Paul turned away from the mirror and walked slowly to the small kitchen cabin in the corner of the room. “Always hated shaving any of that off for those spore drive ports, just so you know.” he could hear Hugh’s voice commenting back at him. Paul was replicating his morning drink. “You won’t mind me saying then, how glad I was to get those off eventually”, Paul conversed in his head as he watched the replicator form a cup of tea.

“Of course not, Mushroom”, Hugh sounded to respond from the bed, “we’ve been through this many times. You don’t need to feel sorry for getting rid of those.”

“Yeah…” Paul muttered as he walked back to the room with a fresh cup of tea in his hands, “it just felt then like I was throwing something of you away”, he thought sitting down on the bed, “I know it’s silly.”

“It is. You know I wasn’t too keen on those things ‘hogging’ your arms either”, Hugh let out a little laugh, “and you really haven’t thrown any of me away.”

Paul looked sheepishly down to his tea. He knew what was coming.

“Don’t you think you should?” Hugh asked with a slight hint of worry in his voice.]

- Becalmed

A short, based solely on the premise of the discomfort of the augmentations:

[ Hugh wakes up to it again. To Paul’s arm wrapping around him. Dang, it used to be one of the best feelings in the mornings to wake in the safety of his Honey Mushroom’s manly arms. Now, there’s often this unforeseen complication. And Hugh has in part himself to blame for it too.

“Mushroom”, Hugh tries to carefully arouse the sleeping man’s attention by shaking him a little. He gets no response.

“Honey, can you move your arm a bit”, Hugh tries a little louder and attempts to wiggle himself from the man’s grip, but Paul just mumbles something in his sleep and won’t move. The arm wants to hold on to Hugh. Dammit. He loves it, but just not like this.

“Paul!” Hugh makes no attempt to discretion anymore, “will you let go of me!”

“What!?” Paul wakes up shouting irately at the abrupt wake-up call.

“Your damn augmentation is boring into my hip again”, Hugh lets the understandably agitated response get to him and snaps back in equal tone, which is far more harsh than necessary.

“Well, who the fuck’s fault is it, it’s there!?” Paul huffs back, fiercely as only provoked Paul would - even when half asleep, like he is right now.

“I know, I know. And you’re very welcome, by the way”, Hugh sneers, “just move it”.

“Fine!” Paul scoffs and yanks his arm to his own side of the bed, turning his back to Hugh as he does so. Hugh turns back to face his side as well.

The doctor then immediately feels regret for having gotten so agitated. He’s upset for the situation - lamenting over losing those comfy arms for the good of this ship -, not mad at the man.

How difficult for the man himself it must be to adjust? And Paul hasn’t once complained. Oddly so.

Hugh had just let his own less than satisfactory wake-up ruin Mushroom’s morning as well, hadn’t he?

“I’m sorry, Paul”, Hugh turns to look at the man over his shoulder, "I didn’t mean to yell. I’m not upset with you".

“I know”, Paul’s sleepy voice sounds faintly somewhere behind the man’s back. He’s not turning back around.

Hugh worries his outburst might scare Paul to thinking twice before embracing him again. And he loves his cuddly Paul.

“Of course you’re still welcome to snuggle”, Hugh assures Paul, letting the regret sound in his voice.

But the man doesn’t hear him, he’s fast asleep again. And Hugh’s bed feels that much emptier without the safety of his man’s arms around him.]

- Losing Your Arms

From one, which references events referenced on screen, namely the introduction of the (preliminary) augmentations by revealing them installed on Paul’s arms:

[ Maybe it had indeed been but a dream after all. Like all of this. Perhaps like all the other times he remembers too. Those instances when they had been somewhere quite surprising - and admittedly quite exciting -, getting distracted by each other from their intended tasks.

Like, when at the Medbay, setting up these brand new spore drive ports on his arms, for a brief stolen moment before the evening shift had arrived to relief Hugh.

Indeed, occasionally he had been back as they were in the middle of hurriedly moving that task to their quarters to follow up on those distractions. Like they must have done just now, judging from the state in which their clothes lay scattered around the room and by the selection of tools haphazardly laid on the coffee table next to them. Like they ever really had any intention to use those once here on this couch.

Paul regards the augmentations on his forearms.

He’s getting a lot of extra orientation practice to the devices through these repeats however, Paul muses. Would Hugh notice anything? Will Mushroom have hard time explaining to the doctor after all of this, how he’s so well adjusted to these things so soon after installation?

He realizes this right now as he catches himself cursing them, positioning his arms so that the ports wouldn’t chafe against their bare skins. Is it too late to rethink these apparatus?]

- Come Again

From one, where Paul regards the augmentations at Hugh’s wake:

[ Paul remembers wrapping his arms around that waist each and every night.

He shifts his arms. The spore drive ports on his forearms, beneath the layers of sleeves, suddenly feel so alien again right then.

It’s not his first time in civilian clothing with them (thanks to his insistence on own comfort wear out of the uniform), but it is the first time with them off duty, since he’s off the ship. And they feel grossly out of place in these Earthly settings.

Hugh too had come to dislike them - his own invention - as soon as it had become apparent how they were an obstruction between their embraces.

Paul should get them removed, if they’ll no longer serve a purpose.

He takes his hands out of the pockets, folds his arms over his chest and goes back to staring across the room with what must appear quite a stern look.]

- Honoring One’s Heart

There was also one about the conceiving of the idea of the augmentations, where, however, the bother factor was not yet in sight:

Doctor, Not an Engineer

And this one, which doesn’t technically count for similar 'shared bother’ reasons either, perhaps, but is a whole narrative very much build around the inconvenience of the augmentations:

Performance Issues

Plus, couple saucy ones, which I won’t list here, lest I actually ever want to share this post *ha* More below:

While at it, (and, perhaps more importantly) here are the narratives build around the idea fact (!!) of Paul living with Hugh ‘alive’ in his mind after the death - in narrative order (some already featured above, too). Hardly captured by a single quote, but for a taste:

[ He had finally heard it. The voice. Hugh’s voice trying to calm him down, “Paul. You need to let yourself be upset. You need to let the tears come.” ]

- We Are Undone, But Soldier On

[ ‘Honey? Are you drunk?’

A delightful, relieved curiosity filled Paul’s mind momentarily as he peered into the darkness of the room wide-eyed, to see where the gentle, familiar voice calling him out was coming from.

Then he remembered, and with a loud, derisive scoff sank back into his darkened state of mind, slumping back down on the couch.

“So fucking what!? If I am.” ]

- A Better Man

[ None of this should matter. Not the suit, not the event, not the crowd. Paul is not here, and Hugh is not gone. Not yet anyway. They are still very much together, and just about to leave somewhere off by themselves, once done with this circus. To enjoy each others’ company somewhere away from all of this dreary pretend. Such a presentation, and for whose sake? “You don’t mind, if I’m not honoring you in accordance to the Fleet standards, do you?” He still gets no response. Hugh hasn’t talked to him since Paul disembarked that cursed ship. He’s still here though, isn’t he? Paul would surely feel it, if the man left.]

- Honoring One’s Heart

[ “Yes. We are too damn young to be thinking about retiring yet.” Paul said and turned to look by his side instinctively, only to see there was really no-one there, of course. He let out a little huff and smiled to himself. Then turned back to face the beach in front of him, and paused to think again. “It will surely be painful to be near it all on the Discovery”, his mind went on, “but I’m not quite ready yet to let go of what we had there either”. “Our only home together?” Hugh came back beside him. “Our first home together”, Paul specified, “so far…"]

- First Home

[ “Dear, I’m home”. He can just imagine himself standing there at the door of their cabin, staring into the empty, cold room that used to be. All the pleasant memories now tainted. How exactly will this be helping him to get over? “But please, do remind me again”, Paul whispers to himself, and hears a heavy, sympathetic sigh in reply, as if preparing itself for telling him of all the ways he’s doing the right thing to move on, and how it’s proud of him for not giving up, and how it supports him, and all that fucking sentimental nonsense, it’s had to tell him already, over and over. And which yet Paul needs to hear. To keep faith. To not forget. ]

- Watching Over You

[ “Hmh”, Paul shrugs, taking in the thought, suddenly a slight twinkle in his eyes, “…but I have too much ‘unbridled passion’ you say?” he then yields, disregarding his persistent gravity, as he apprehensively turns his playful smirk at Hugh, readying himself for this blessed dream to end short. But the man stays here. Startlingly, staring right back at Paul’s surprised gaze with almost haunting clarity. Paul’s grip on the newly corporeal man tightens in a moment of incredulity. For the first time in weeks - but which feels like a year - Paul is able to see the man, to look into those loving eyes again, bathe in that radiant smile, and respond to all of the emotions he now thirstily reads from the man’s beautiful face. And fuck, if there aren’t tears on Paul’s own. The man really is right here.]

- Passion of a Vulcan Like Mind

[ He could feel Hugh’s gaze on himself. “You realize, you actually wanted me gone today?”, he heard Hugh speak out gently, “I got in your way”.

Paul’s smile turned to an anguished frown. The tone of understanding in Hugh’s voice hurt him. “Never”, he attested firmly. He lay there as still as possible, staring at the ceiling, afraid to move too much, or turn to glance at his side, lest it chased away this sensation of Hugh beside him.

“You are being stubborn again, Mushroom”, Hugh whispered with a hint of worry in his voice, “why do you still cling on so desperately?”. He was so close Paul could almost feel the breath on him - or was that the sea breeze perhaps - “You said you’d be okay, if I left - why won’t you let me then?”]

- Becalmed (alt)

#star trek discovery #culmets #paul stamets #hugh culber #space boos #spaceboos #star trek #head canon

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years ago

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Feels Like This (Part 13)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! I am so excited to be back with this story after the month I spent away, and I find it so wild that in that past month so much happened with royals in the actual world. I wouldn’t say it inspired this chapter at all, but it was cathartic to write a story where the Prince and Princess get a much healthier, more healing reception. I know how many of you love this fic, and it definitely has a special place in my heart as well. It’s been so important to me that I do the ending of this story justice, and so it took a bit of time to get my thoughts organized. This is one of the final chapters, and I only anticipate one more actual story installment and then maybe, someday far off in the future, an epilogue or two. That being said, this is a long-awaited milestone for CS and I have attempted to infuse all of my usual cuteness and romance. I hope that you all enjoy, I would love to hear what you think, and thank you all so much for reading!

Gazing out upon the overlook as the sun rose over the tree line in the Montenarran morning, Killian was comforted once more by the vastness of the world and the beauty that danced before him. The light shone with a color and vibrancy he’d come to know and love, but this morning the air hummed with languid layers of anticipation. Maybe it was Killian’s excitement and nerves, but he didn’t think so. No, if anything the world seemed to shimmer today, a sign from above that the timing was right and that he was ready to take this next big step.

The next time I visit this place, I’ll have Emma by my side, he thought to himself, soaking in the comfort of such a plan.

This was on his list of places to share with his Swan, but he reasoned that he had all the time in the world for such gifts. Today, though, he was planning to make that assumption a reality. For finally, after nearly three days of being parted from his love, he was planning to propose, in a way befitting a woman of Emma’s caliber.

Instinctively, Killian’s hand moved to his pocket, drawing out a small black box which held a ring inside. The ring was beautiful and ornate, an overt and ostentatious display of love, but one with inherent meaning. This was the ring his grandfather had given his Gran, a ring forged for the purpose of real and lasting love. It was not exchanged at their wedding, but instead in a private ceremony the two of them shared some weeks later. Their wedding had been arranged, but still they’d found real love. This ring was a gift, however, given at the turning point where Killian’s grandfather knew that his love for his new Queen was more than mere arrangement – it was true and totally transformative.

“Your brother, as reigning monarch, has full claim to your grandfather and my wedding bands, and he will make good use of them with his Elsa, I am utterly assured,” Gran had claimed some weeks back when she stole Killian for a private moment. On that night, she was serious and sincere, most of her deeply playful nature tucked aside for a brief window of time. She glanced at her the matrimonial ring she still wore, years after the death of her dearly departed husband before looking back to Killian with conviction and calm. “The love between them grows each day, and is befitting of what me and your grandfather shared. But this ring I’m giving you, Killy… this ring is something else altogether. This is magic made metal. This is perfectly genuine affection forged into precious gems.”

“It is gorgeous, Gran,” Killian agreed when she presented the ring to him. “But I can’t take something like this from you. Not when it means so much.”

“That’s why you must have it, Killy. If your Grandfather were here, he would say the same. This ring bound us in life, but now we are bound through so much more.”

For the first time in years, likely since the death of his grandfather himself, Killian watched as tears trickled down his Gran’s face. It instantly pierced his heart, for this was a woman who always showed strength. Even when he was on deployment and gone for years on end, his Gran persevered. She may grow misty eyed or get choked up, but tears were a whole different story. Only the memory of her husband could prompt them, and Killian thought to himself not for the first time that she had been so strong for so long, going on without him.

“Our love is forever, living, thriving, singing its song for now and for always. I miss him, every day, every moment, I wish that he was here, but someday we will have each other again. And in the meantime, this ring deserves another union. It was made to be passed through generations. I will confess that I wondered if anyone should ever be worthy of it, if love like ours would find its way here again. But I needn’t have doubted. You and Emma are made for each other, and it would be my honor for Emma to wear this.”

Killian agreed whole heartedly with his Grandmother’s explanation, and he knew no more beautiful stone could be found the world over. This ring bore a remarkable yellow diamond, encircled with smaller stones of the same rare hue. The exact shade sparkled in the sunlight, but almost seemed dipped in the golden glow of a summer’s afternoon. It was pristine and poetic, warm and well beyond the pale, reminding Killian of the highlights in Emma’s hair and the lilt of her laughter. Her joy was precious, more precious than any stone, but as he gazed upon the rock, it felt quintessentially designed for his Swan. It was happy and bright, bold and beautiful, and he knew, despite its flair and size, that Emma would love it.

The only thing left to do is ask her.

The thought breathed new life into Killian, even more so than the Montenarran morning, and he walked back through the forest paths towards the palace once more, energized and ready for the day ahead. He had everything planned and had been working on this for some time. There were many moving pieces, but he’d squared them all away. In the end he would see to it that this was perfect, for that was exactly what his Swan deserved.

Arriving at the palace just after the sunrise, Killian moved with purpose and precision. He had only a little bit of time, and much to accomplish.

“The last of the parcels have been delivered, Your Grace,” one attendant announced as Killian walked through the palace doors. “The bulk of them are here, as you see, though some are in the green house for obvious reasons.”

“Excellent, Jacque. Thank you.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir, it’s just… are you certain you don’t need help arranging things? It’s a significant amount of work here. The staff is happy to assist.”

“I appreciate that offer, Jacque, but I’ve got things well in hand. I’ve been planning this for some time.”

A thoughtful smile appeared at the older man’s face, one that broke the traditional polite protocol and spoke to how long he had known Killian and the royal family. “Of course, Sir. Well, in that case, best of luck.”

Killian took the well wishes to heart, knowing he had a massive task before him. Perhaps he could have given himself more time to bring all of these pieces together, but to him, it already felt like too much time had been wasted. He was more than ready for this next step with Emma, and after three days spent apart, not seeing each other in person, or sharing much more than a few texts and facetimes, he was particularly desirous to see this through. He had been strategizing on how to get this right for quite a while, and by now he knew each assignment down to the letter.

“I assume that your dismissal of Jacques offer goes for us as well?”

Killian glanced up, finding his mother on the stairwell. From here she was stately and elegant, a poised dowager Queen with refinement and grace, but as she descended, she became more herself, and by the time she was in front of Killian, taking his hand in hers, she was no more and no less than a wonderful mother. His greatest support for many years, and someone who he knew would give anything she could to make this moment special.

“It does, at least for this. But with the children arriving in a few hours’ time -,”

“Not to worry on that front,” his mother said cheerily, her own happiness at the thought of all the Institute’s residents coming to the palace for a special premiere outing. “Your Grandmother and I have all in hand, and Liam and Elsa are set to help us. It’ll be a day to remember.”

“Good,” Killian said, looking around and finding his Gran already in full form, instructing the staff as to the desires she had for the outdoor space. Through the glass of the palace’s wall of windows, her words were muddled, but the humor was clear as day. This woman, frail and aged from outward appearance, was a firecracker, ruling over the days designs with an iron fist. “Surprising that Liam is giving Gran such a wide berth.”

“Well how could he not? He’s yet to come down for the day. Hard to give orders from a distance.”

Killian let out a whistle, and laughed as his mother swatted his arm and ‘tutted’ his boyish actions. Knowing when enough was enough, he left unsaid the clear reason that his brother would choose to stay abed so late in the morning. Killian would stake his life on the fact that a certain guest was here within the palace, and that she likely made a visit of the overnight variety.

“What are the chances that Gran doesn’t know?” Killian asked and his mother shook her head.

“Zero.”

“And the likelihood that she will say something?”

“That’s still to be determined.” Killian was shocked at his mother’s genuine opinion. He, for one, thought it undoubtable that Gran would make mention of this moment, gleefully commenting on the need for royal heirs or some such outlandish claim. “Eleanor is direct and prone to speaking her mind, but she is also strategic. If the calculated risk of such a comment is too high, she will deny herself. She would never do anything to jeopardize your brother’s prospects.”

“You really think a smart comment from an old woman is enough to keep them apart?” Killian asked, thinking back on the few weeks that Liam and Elsa had shared since finding each other again. They had been as close to inseparable as the schedule of a King would allow. It was clear that they were both entirely invested, so much so that a royal announcement would be made in the coming days announcing their relationship.

“Not for a second.”

“So, if you know that, and I know that… surely Gran must know that.”

At that exact moment a maid was walking back into the house, opening the glass doors. From the outside they could hear his grandmother calling out to Liam and to Elsa, who had been discovered somewhere in the backyard. They no doubt were trying to be more discrete, but Gran seemed to have no interest in allowing them that privacy.

“Oh Lord, it’s time,” Meera said with a mix of worry and also amusement. Her eyes were alight with the humor of the moment, but also the very real awkwardness that may soon transpire. “I best get out there and spare them from what I can.”

Killian nodded, but wasn’t ready for the impact of his mother’s arms around him squeezing tight. It was not in any way part of the royal protocol, but his family never paid much mind to that. Still, this was a big hug, one that was obviously filled with tremendous meaning.

“I’m so proud of you, my darling. You’ll give her everything she deserves, and the two of you will be happy. So wonderfully, beautifully happy.”

“Thanks, Mum. Love you,” he whispered, accepting her soft kiss on his cheek and her shared words of love in kind before she dashed off to help his elder brother. A Queen should never move so quickly, but then again, Gran could do quite a bit of damage in the seconds it would take to get from here to there. For his part, Killian only chuckled to himself before heading to the side of the palace towards the gardens for the day.

The next few hours were defined by attention to detail and purposeful precision. Before meeting Emma, Killian could safely say he never imagined the lengths and planning required for a proper proposal. The idea was so intangible, so unnecessary in his estimations, that he never dwelled on even the possibility. It seemed unlikely that his heart would ever be touched in that way. He assumed he’d go through life a bachelor, or worse yet, that he’d cave to eventual pressure and say yes to something arranged and designed without feeling or passion. Luckily for him he had escaped such a fate, and instead had been steered through the grace of all things good towards a woman who was far and away the most remarkable he’d ever met.

Emma was rare and extraordinary. He had known it from their first meeting, and he continued to hold onto this truth every day they were together. There was never a moment when he didn’t realize his good fortune, or when he took her presence in his life for granted. Emma had revived him. She anchored him into the goodness of the world, and she showed him what could be. She expanded his horizons, even brought with her a son, another key part of a growing family, and by her side, Killian felt like he was capable of anything.

He only hoped that the elements he’d gathered today would translate as he imagined they could. This was a memory in the making that could only be shared once. Killian wanted to be sure that it was what Emma wanted and deserved. Luckily, he’d had help and more than a little bit of intel, mostly provided by Henry and from a few other insiders who knew Emma best of all.

“Are all systems a go, Captain?”

As if he’d conjured Henry with the grateful thought of all the boy had done for him, he turned now to find Emma’s son in the garden. Killian watched as the lad took in their surroundings, his eyes growing wide, and his whispered ‘this is so cool’ a welcome sign that Killian’s efforts had not been for nothing. He stood from where he’d been bent down, tidying up the last of his efforts, and when he gazed upon it himself, he had to say he was happy with the outcome.

“Aye, Lieutenant. All the necessary components are accounted for.”

“Good. She’s going to lose it. In a good way though,” Henry said with a smile which burned bright.

“Is everyone arrived then?” Killian asked and Henry shook his head.

“Soon, but not just yet. Anna and I have been here for a while now. Gran needed help with the game set up, but I asked if I could see you first.”

The look of wonder and happiness that had clung to Henry since arriving colored to something a bit more pensive. The shift gave Killian some pause for the first time all day. “Everything all right, lad?”

“Everything’s great, I just – well I was wondering – I mean if Mom says yes – or rather when she says yes, because she’ll totally say yes, it’s just that, well I – I was wondering…”

“No need to be worried, Henry,” Killian said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Whatever you have to ask me, I’m here to help. You have my word I will make it right.”

“I know. And you’ll love Mom forever, right?”

“Aye, lad. Forever and then some.”

“And you love me too,” Killian’s heart clenched as he automatically nodded.

“Yes, Henry. I love you both, undoubtedly.”

“And we’re going to be a family.”

Killian didn’t know what to say. Down to his bones he knew that they would be. He was confident in this union between him and Emma. They had made promises already, declarations of love. He would give anything to be her husband, and he knew that someday he would be, but to say it aloud to her son when Emma herself hadn’t had a chance to even be asked was something else entirely. In the end, he decided to just go with his gut.

“In my heart, we already are.” Henry beamed up at him, the worry of the moment melting away. Still, Killian never imagined what he’d say next.

“Well then I was hoping that maybe, when you and Mom are married, maybe I could call you Dad?”

Killian was overwhelmed with the request. It was something he had wished for, but didn’t want to press. He knew Henry had no memories of his biological father, but he never wanted to assume. It was a massive move for a young man to ask such a question, but Killian’s answer to the query was instant and heartfelt.

“I would be honored, lad.”

“Cool,” Henry said happily, brimming with the excitement he’d had since Killian first told him about his plan to propose to Emma.

Henry moved forward, hugging Killian with the affection of an earnest hearted ten-year-old, and Killian savored it, knowing he would always see Henry as his son. He may not be his blood, but he lay claim to a large piece of Killian’s heart. He silently swore to always do right by Henry. To protect him and to teach him what he could. But mostly he would support him, and show love to Henry and his mother all the days of his life. Before Killian could speak to more of that, the sound of busses pulling up, and happy children streaming onto palace grounds wafted through the air. The time had come. This was the moment.

“You know the plan, son?” Killian asked, the word slipping off his tongue so easily, and bringing real joy to Henry’s eyes.

“Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll have Mom to you in five minutes. You can time me.”

Killian might have laughed at the fervor and excitement Henry shared, but unfortunately, five minutes waiting in a moment like this felt like a lifetime away. The only thing that got him through were the last-minute adjustments, and the journey that was needed from where he was, to where they’d start their memorable afternoon. Finally, the moment came where Killian was waiting at the start of the hedgerow, even further from the festivities and he could hear the woman he loved, unaware of his being here.

“Henry, seriously, what’s going on? The party’s only just starting. We have time for a tour later. We can go with the others.”

“Trust me Mom, this can’t wait.”

“What is it Henwy?” a tiny voice Killian would know anywhere asked. Cecelia was with them, another sign from above that his plans were moving the way he wanted.

“Something magical,” Henry said and Killian could hear the sharp trill of an excited little girl.

“Like fairies?”

“Just wait, you’ll see.”

“Something magical, huh?” Emma parroted, but at that moment they all stepped into view.

Three days may be but a blip in time to some, but to Killian it had felt like an eternity. The peace he now experienced at seeing his Swan again was profound, and somehow she was even more stunning than when he’d left her. The day’s light shone in her hair and in her smile. She was gorgeous and relaxed, dressed in a delicate pink sun dress designed to tease and torment. Her radiance outshone every flower in this garden, and in the moments before she saw him, he soaked in the sight of her. God she was beautiful, too beautiful to properly behold. His heart skipped and his muscles tightened, and then her eyes landed on him and he was whole. The world was righted once more, and all because Emma saw him and felt the same pull he felt emanating from his chest. The surprise in her eyes was evident, followed immediately by relief, and joy, and love, and all of it was too sweet a call to resist. He moved towards her and the children, sending up one last prayer in this critical moment.

Please let her be mine. I swear I’ll deserve her. Whatever it takes. For I am hers, body and soul, and I always will be.

………………

God he’s gorgeous, Emma thought instinctively upon finding Killian at the far end of the garden hedge. That thought was followed closely by, Wait, what is he doing here?

“Killy!” Cecelia cried out happily, letting go of Emma and Henry’s hands and sprinting towards him. Emma watched as Killian crouched down, accepting the hug from the little girl who effortlessly stole their hearts. He closed his eyes momentarily, soaking in the moment, and then he pulled back and pushed some of her wayward curls from Cecelia’s eyes, smiling at her with genuine affection.

“Good morning, little love. How are you finding the palace?” Emma’s heart clenched in her chest in the best way. He was just so sweet with her. He always had been.

“It’s so so good,” Cecelia replied, bringing a laugh out of all of them.

At the little girl’s enthusiastic endorsement, Killian thanked Cecelia and then stood once more, looking at Emma with those captivating blue eyes and that charming smile that always took her breath away. She was still trying to fathom his presence here. They had spent the last few days apart, days she found so much more difficult to manage than she expected, but he wasn’t set to return for a few more days. Liam had sent him on state business. She didn’t press for details, assuming it was confidential, but now, she was curious as to this wonderful turn of events. Before she could ask though, he walked over to her, taking her into his arms and kissing her surely. She leaned into this embrace, loathed to let him go, but he seemed to remember they were in the presence of little eyes. It was a fleeting kiss, but still invigorating all the same.

“I don’t understand. You’re supposed to be away the rest of the week.”

“I hope you’ll forgive my brother for that white lie,” Killian said, his hand coming up to scratch at his ear in that subtle show of bashfulness she’d witnessed a time or two. “If you’ll recall I never actually confirmed an itinerary, having sworn never to lie to you again.”

“So, you weren’t on a… huh, let’s see, how did Liam put it? A ‘mission for the future of the nation’ then?”

“Not exactly. But then again, in some ways, that’s exactly where I was. Do you trust me, love?”

Emma nodded, and watched as his smile grew warmer. She knew that it meant to him to have her trust, but in her eyes, he had earned it ten times over. Killian was a good man – the best man she knew – and he made her feel safe. Of course she trusted him. She had never trusted anyone this much before.

“In that case, I’ve some things to show you. Henry, you’ll be sure to hold down the fort in the meantime?”

Emma looked over to her son, and only now realized that this was all planned somehow. Her boy looked pleased as punch, and even sent a salute Killian’s way. “Yes sir. And Cecelia will help, wont’ you Ceci?” The little girl nodded, joyously, thrilled at the prospect of helping. “We’ll see you both soon.”

Killian nodded, leading Emma in the direction of the garden. The further they moved into the hedgerow, the quieter it became, until the only songs around them were those of birds and breeze. Emma was amazed at all of this, but she was also still wrapped up in his return. It felt so good to be back with her hand in his, the glow of his presence enveloping her. She’d never missed someone like she had the past few days, never ached this way to be reunited with someone. It was a testament to all she felt for him and how much she’d come to love him. Quietly she stopped walking, pulling Killian’s attention. With a quick glance behind them, she saw no one had followed. They were totally alone and so she made her move. Pulling him down for another kiss, she said a proper hello, and shivered in delight at his reaction.

His hands were on her, seemingly everywhere, holding her close as they tasted each other. She felt his soft dark hair between her fingers, where she ran them through by the nape of his neck. She arched in closer, feeling the friction of their bodies together, and sighing in pleasure when they pulled apart. It couldn’t go further than that, but Emma felt more secure having shown him even in a small way how happy she was to see him.

“Hell of a welcome home, love,” he growled out, words low and throaty from his own swirling emotion. “If leaving wasn’t torture in itself, I’d consider more trips just for this.”

“No need to leave for these,” she whispered to him, leaning in for another kiss but then nipping him gently instead and stepping back out of his grasp. She smiled at his evident frustration, and laughed when he groaned in defeat. He knew he was had, but from the way he pulled her back into his arms, running his hand along the small of her back and looking at her adoringly, he didn’t seem to mind.

“You are a marvel, love. Have I mentioned that yet?”

“Maybe once or twice,” she teased, looking back to where they’d been walking and giving him silent permission to lead to their destination once more. “It’s beautiful out here.”

Beautiful was an understatement. In truth, Emma had never seen such intricate floral designs or such an array of colors and flower species. She had to imagine it was more than a palace garden. This had to be one of the most beautiful botanical spaces in all of Europe.

“Much of that is my mother’s doing. Her passion project, so to speak. She brought us out here when we were boys. Showed us bits and bobs. But this has always been hallowed grounds. Special, and perhaps, as Henry hinted, a little magical as well.”

Emma was poised to reply, but at that moment they turned a corner and things changed. They were still in a garden, but this time – oh lord it was difficult to describe. Magnificent was the first word that came to mind, and ethereal came soon after. For where there were blossoms and buds before, now there even more, hanging from pergolas above and winding through ivy vines on every hedge. Some were clearly naturally placed, but Emma noticed pieces woven into this area that she’d seen before, half a world away.

“Windchimes,” she murmured, looking at the gorgeous displays that reminded her of home.

There was a storefront, totally discrete from the street view and far off of the beaten path, deep in the heart of Chinatown, that she and Henry had found when he was younger. It was filled with artisan chimes and motifs and mobiles made from natural items and glass and more. The owners were amazing and known in crafting circles around the globe. The first day Emma and Henry visited taking refuge from a sudden winter chill, the couple who owned the store had taken the time to walk her son through their work. They’d then spent hours in the studio, and though Emma had very little by way of money for a purchase, they’d showed her and Henry nothing but the utmost kindness. She’d always found the pieces beautiful, comprised of shells and flecks of crystal or silver and gold, swirled into constellations that evoked a night sky or sense of wonder.

Over the years she and Henry returned to the studio many times, and even bought a few pieces when she could save enough to treat herself to something precious. There was so much beauty crafted in each piece. Emma always found herself wanting more, and she loved their trips back over and over again. The style of this artwork was one of a kind. Emma had never seen other pieces like these, but here, in this patch of the garden, there had to be a hundred intricate, delicate, interrelated art pieces dancing in the wind.

“How is this possible?”

“Henry may have mentioned something. Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous. God, the time it must have taken to put this all together…”

“Was time well spent, believe me, love.” Emma looked to him and she could have sworn from the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that he was the one who had done this. But that was crazy. How could he have possibly had time for all this?

“But how did it all even get here?”

“I brought it.”

“You brought it?” Emma asked, stunned, her fingertips grazing the smoothed lines of one art piece dripping in sea glass. “You were in New York.”

“Aye.”

“But why?”

“Patience, love. There’s more to see.”

Emma had no idea how there could possibly be more, but she tucked her arm through Killian’s and walked with him to the next section of gardens. Here there was a sudden burst of purples and whites, and a scent she’d been missing without even realizing it. Lilacs, but none of them in season. Oh God, look at all of them.

“Killian,” she whispered, looking at what must have been thousands of bouquets of her favorite flower. It was unbelievable, but it was real, and she moved forward, seeing them all set up and displayed prominently in the midst of a garden with white roses. It was gorgeous and surreal. And now she was utterly dazed and more than a little confused.

“You and Henry are well known at the Brooklyn gardens love, as I’m sure you are well aware. I had it on good authority from a woman named Ella that lilacs are your particular favorite.”

“These can’t all be from there,” Emma said and Killian shook his head.

“No, these are admittedly sourced from a few specialty purveyors across the continent. But this,” he pulled out a polaroid of a small lilac tree that was recently planted. Looking at the surroundings, Emma realized that was outside Killian’s home here in Montenarro. “This is directly from the gardens. The same family and strain, all the way from New York.”

Emma was too shocked to speak, and felt the tears welling in her eyes. He had done so much for her, and she knew it was for one reason. He wanted to bring part of her home, part of a place that meant so much to Henry and her, here to his home. It was so thoughtful she felt tongue tied. What could she say? This was all so much.

Unbelievably there was even more, and over the next few minutes he took her through three more break away gardens, each filled with other staples of her one-time home. Food and culture and memories and more. This man had managed to find all of the best parts of her time in New York and he had brought them here. Some of them were things completely out of the realm of possibility.

“I can’t believe you found this,” Emma said, holding onto a years-old piece of construction paper that had been forgotten to time.

This picture was one of so many projects that her son had made in life, but Emma cherished the memories that went with it. Another example of the city’s serendipity, this painting chronicled a day of adventure for Emma and Henry. They’d wandered all through the city, and ended up in Queens for a special summer program for kids. She was always looking for magic moments for Henry, especially ones designed for a budgeting single Mom, and this one had delivered. There were story times and games, crafts and activities, and Henry had been thrilled. He made this picture of the two of them, and though it looked nothing like Emma, it had captured her heart. It also caught the eye of the librarians working that day and they’d selected it to put on the wall in the Children’s wing. Henry was oh so proud, his four-year-old heart filled with joy at getting to hang his art somewhere aside from their refrigerator door. It meant something to Emma, another example of her doing her best by her boy, and giving him all that she’d never had.

“There was a picture of you and Henry and this particular masterpiece in the Saturday Times.”

“Okay now how could you possibly know that?”

“Your neighbor, Mrs. Hubbard. She was very forthcoming, and she’d saved the article. Has it framed and everything.”

“You spoke to Mrs. H?” Emma asked completely bewildered, and Killian nodded. “And the library had it all this time?”

“Aye. In the archives. Nothing a few strategically planned favors couldn’t procure.”

“I don’t deserve this,” Emma said, letting the tears finally fall. This was all too much, but she was immediately comforted by the feel of Killian’s strong arms. His hand came to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping some of the tears as he shook his head, his eyes full of earnest feeling and emotion.

“That’s where you’re wrong, love. You deserve every good thing the world over. I know it’s presumptuous for a man like me to ask for such a treasure, but I swear to you I’ll spend my life giving everything I can.”

“I already have everything. I have you, and Henry,” Emma said. “This is beautiful, but it’s nothing to you.”

Killian hummed out a sigh of contentment, but where Emma expected a kiss, she watched instead as he pulled back, reaching for something in his pocket. “I was hoping you’d feel this way. Makes this next part a bit less nerve wracking.”

In a smooth gesture, he pulled out a small black box and lowered to the ground. Watching Killian drop down to one knee here in the gardens, Emma felt totally adrift from all cares of the world. She was stunned and yet deeply aware that this had all been a long time coming. There was no doubt in her heart that she loved Killian, and she held no fear over taking this next step. This man had shown her for months that he genuinely cared for her and her son. He would move mountains for them, if only for a possibility of their happiness. He was selfless and loyal and true, and he made her brave, emboldening her to believe that the risk was worth it. Love was worth it. Still, it was shocking, to be adored so deeply, and to know that someone truly felt the world began and ended with her.

“Emma, I realize that this is perhaps soon by some standards, but believe me when I say that I have been aching to ask you this question since the moment we met.”

More tears formed in her eyes, thinking back on that day. Her world had truly shifted in the span of one morning. There was a time before Killian, before romantic love that ever made her hopeful, and then there was more. It all started at the center, but it built well beyond those four walls. Knowing what she did now, she had to call their encounter what it had been – love at first sight. Maybe she hadn’t admitted it then, and surely she hadn’t said it aloud, but that is what transpired. She took one look at this man, this extraordinary, incredible man, and she was hooked, plain and simple.

“You amazed me then, that first day at the Institute. I didn’t realize anyone like you could truly be real, or that I was capable of forming an attachment with such strength. I had seen too much, I reasoned, knew the darkness of the world in ways that may leave me lacking for the rest of my days. I thought such chances at something halfway near normal were beyond me, but those first sparks between us proved me wrong. I was totally ensnared, caught in a web you couldn’t help for making, and still, that immediate response can’t compare to all I feel now. Knowing you – loving you – I am more certain each and every day that you hold my heart in your hand. I am yours, Emma. I have been yours, and I will remain yours all the days of my life.”

There was absolutely no chance at stopping from crying now, but the sensation was one of happiness. She was actually living a fairytale. Her, the once lost girl who never had a nickel to her name, or a friend to keep her going. She had survived the cruelest affairs of the heart. She had been so terribly and tragically alone, but she persisted, and she learned, through the grace of her son, and the courage of her convictions, to live. Now with Killian she was starting anew, building up the small life she’d shared with Henry into something much bigger. To say she was exited at the prospect was an understatement.

“Emma Swan, will you -,”

“I want to adopt Cecelia!” Emma said abruptly, blurting out a seemingly unrelated fact in the middle of what had been the most beautiful proposal. She was mortified, but only for a moment. Because the smile on Killian’s face calmed the storm inside her.

“Ah, right. You see, I had anticipated that, though in the interest of full disclosure I envisioned this part of the conversation after your reply to the proposal. Regardless, I offer you this, love.”

Emma watched as he juggled the ring and instinctively she took it, holding the box and sparing another glance at the absolutely beautiful band. Her fingers itched to put it on now, but she knew it would be so much better to let Killian do the honors. She then watched in amazement as he pulled out a series of papers from inside his jacket. He opened the file containing them all and showed her an application for adoption. The child in question was Cecelia, and the forms listed both Emma and Killian as petitioning guardians. Now she was completely overwhelmed. He knew every single part of her. Every hope. Every dream. He was perfect.

“Family is so much more than blood, Swan, as we both know, and I think we’ve known for sometimes that Cecelia will always be our princess.”

“Yes,” Emma whispered. Yes to everything, yes to all of it.

“I’ve also spoken to Henry, not intentionally per se, wanting to speak with you first, but it would mean the world to adopt him as well. I don’t know how you’d feel about that, but I-,”

“Yes,” she said again, this time with even more conviction.

“Yes?” he asked with a hopeful grin and she nodded. “Well in that case. May I, love?”

She handed him the papers which he put down beside them with care. Emma watched as he took the ring box back from her other hand. He settled down on bended knee again, preparing himself for another attempt at asking her to marry him. It took everything in her to bite her tongue and let him actually get the request out.

“Emma Swan, love of my life, light of my spirit, and queen of my heart, will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

“Yes.”

Everything from there went quickly as he slipped the ring on her finger, tossing the box without care to the group. Killian was up at full height in mere moments, pulling her in for a scorching kiss and Emma was complete. It may not have been a totally according to plan proposal, but Emma believed what they had was even better, because it was real and true and filled with so much love. She could think of no better way to start a beautiful forever, and when they pulled back, resting their foreheads against each other and soaking in the moment, Emma let out a sigh of sheer relief. This was what they meant when they said happily ever after, and it was so very worth the wait.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy,” Emma murmured aloud.

“Neither have I,” an emotional voice said – only it wasn’t Killian. The voice continued. “Truly beautiful.”

“Gran,” Killian muttered shaking his head. Emma bit her lip and covered her mouth. They had absolutely just been caught out here, but when they both turned to see their unexpected audience, consisting of Killian’s family, Elsa and Anna, and Henry and Cecelia, a different person outside of all the rest, was revealed to be the culprit.

“You take that back, Killian, for you know better than that,” Gran said, standing beside a dressed up and dazzling looking Mrs. Hubbard. Mr. Hubbard was there too, his hand on Henry’s shoulder and his leg being held onto by a very friendly Cecelia. Emma never expected to see her dear, sweet neighbors. Their appearance here in Montenarro left her floored.

“My new friends are a treat, believe me,” Gran continued, walking forward, and seemingly giving everyone else the silent permission to do the same. “But their spying skills need work. I would never speak through such a moment, nor rustle these hedges with quite so much gusto. Not to worry though, they’ll learn.”

Everyone descended in that moment to wish them all well, but the most important reactions came from Henry and from Cecelia. The happiness of both of these kids – their kids – gave Emma tremendous joy and satisfaction. She was also thrilled to share this with their blended family, and with the friends who had become such strong bonds in her new life. After much congratulations, everyone returned to the party, and an announcement was made. If Emma believed the reaction to be enthusiastic from her loved ones, it was even bolder from all of the children at the center. Indeed, the happiness and infectious sense of hope made for the best party any of them had ever been to, and created an afternoon like none she’d ever experienced.

Hours later, Emma was still reeling from the high, and loving the fact that she and Killian had stayed together all day. He’d never let her go after her saying yes, always beside her, supporting her, adoring her, and loving her endlessly. She was so happy with him, but as the day drew to a close, her spirits dampened slightly. In his usual form, Killian caught on immediately.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, sure that no one else was listening, even though they were still amidst the party.

“Nothing,” Emma said automatically, though that was only half true. “This is one of the best days of my life. It’s just… the waiting…”

“Aye, I’ve considered that too. But I think I’ve arrived at a workable solution.” Emma looked at him curiously. “I will submit for a special license from the crown. The King and I are on decent terms you see.”

“Decent, huh?” Emma teased, looking over at Liam and finding him swaying with Elsa on a makeshift dance floor. There wasn’t even any music playing, but to this happy couple, and to the children dancing nearby, that didn’t matter in the slightest.

“He’s been in better spirits of late, as you might imagine.”

“Seems to be going around.”

“Mmm,” Killian hummed out, running his hand along her cheek and looking at her with sincerity and bliss. “We can have everything arranged in a week. It’ll be quite the undertaking, but the staff is up to the challenge.”

“A week?” Emma said, not believing it. Surely it must take longer than that, but she loved the idea. In truth, she’d marry him right now if she could. “Can we really do that?”

“Just say the word, Emma.”

“Yes,” she said nodding. “It’s crazy. Actually it’s totally insane, but yes, please, yes.”

“As you wish,” he replied kissing her again under the party lights and lighting her aflame once more. “In the meantime, I’ve no wish to be apart. We should be together, love, as long as that’s what you want.”

“I do.”

“Everything’s ready. I’ve been working for weeks on it. The rooms for Henry, for Cecelia, all of it. It’s merely a matter of moving your things in, all of which can be done tonight.”

“You’re serious?” Emma asked and he nodded.

“A magistrate’s already granted temporary custody for Cecelia. You can take her home now while the process continues. Please, love, say you’ll all come home to me.”

Emma looked over to Henry and to Cecelia, who were dancing together on the floor. Emma watched as her son already took so well to his new sister, and as if she’d conjured his attention, Henry glanced her way. He waved, a sign that Emma returned. Drawing attention to them set Cecelia in motion, and soon the little girl was dragging Henry across the party. Soon enough they were back together, the four of them a new but undoubtedly permanent unit. Cecelia jumped into Killian’s arms, and Henry came to Emma’s side looking up with his knowing expression.

“What’s up, Mom?” he asked and Emma smiled, unable to resist pulling him and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“How would you feel about moving to Killian’s house -,”

“Our house,” Killian stressed and Emma chuckled.

“Sorry, our house, tonight?”

“That would be awesome!” Henry said excitedly. “Can we do that?”

“Aye.”

“And me too?” Cecelia asked hopefully.

“Yes, honey, you too,” Emma said, brushing a stray curl from Cecelia’s face. The kids made their feelings known. They were in, totally and completely. “Well I guess we have our answer then.”

“Aye, love. The best of answers, all around.”

And so, later that night, when the festivities of the day had ended, and the children all departed, Emma and Killian, Henry and Cecelia all headed home together, enjoying their first night in a place that would always be theirs. And though Emma knew they were in for a crazy week of planning and party design, and wedding wildness, she was truly joyful. For this was a life beyond her wildest dreams, and she knew, deep down to her core, that it was going to be breathtaking.

Post-Note: So… what did you think? Personally, I found it SO cathartic to write this scene. It’s been such a long time coming and I have pictured this outcome for Emma and for Killian even before writing the first word of this story. Almost a year ago to the day this story came to me, and my hope is to write out the final chapter by the one year anniversary in early May. Hopefully it won’t take quite so long, but please know that it has been a joy to write this and share with all of you. I hope this chapter and this fic have brought some brightness to your world and some magic to your moment. This has been an insane time, but I’ve been grateful to share it with all of you. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed, and I’d love to hear what your hopes for the end of this story are. Until next time, wishing you all well and healthy and safe! xE.

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scorpiofangirl1109 · 4 years ago

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My Cats OC Part 3

part 2- https://scorpiofangirl1109.tumblr.com/post/643491139105734656/my-cats-oc-part-2

hello again. i am quite enjoying doing this series so i am going to keep doing it because i simply love it :)

anyways i am going to start explain more about the cats oc i made. i have the first two parts of my oc linked above if you not have read those parts before this i would go read those first for some background context.

if you have read the first two posts then you will know that my oc kiki is the daughter of munkustrap and her mother left him to raise kiki on his own after she abruptly left the jellicle tribe.

so i thought in this installment i would talk about the relationship between munkustrap and kiki in this installment/update/post or whatever you would like to call this.

so kiki would be extremely close with munkustrap. she is a major daddy’s girl. he is her favorite cat in the entire world and the most important figure in her life. munkustrap is the first one kiki will go to if she needs to talk about something or if she just wants some love and affection. kiki definitely looks up to her father and listens to him. well, most of the time anyways. kiki is definitely munkustrap’s little princess and he loves her dearly. while it is hard to be a single parent munkustrap does the best he can to raise kiki on his own, with the help of several of the adult members of the tribe of course. and munkustrap will not hesitate to devote all of his love and attention onto his daughter. munkustrap affectionately calls his daughter his baby girl or his princess.

munkustrap is known to be protective of his little kitten. of course naturally he is protector of the tribe he is always alert in order to protect his tribe. however when it comes to kiki it is different. she is his kitten after all and munkustrap would never forgive himself if something were to happen to his daughter and he did not do his best to protect her.

kiki hates thunderstorms, especially at night time. so if there is a thunderstorm the kitten will rush to her father's side for comfort. and if it is nighttime during the storm kiki will go over to munkustrap and curl right up into his side. munkustrap hates seeing his daughter so upset so he will stay by her side and comfort her until the storm goes away. if it is nighttime he will let kiki sleep next to him for the rest of the night and hold her close to him.

the only thing that drives kiki nuts about her father is how he has not told her much about her birth mother. kiki knows limited information about her mother. she has heard a few things from the other adults she is close to in the tribe such as how she has her mother’s eyes. but every time she has brought up the topic of her birth mother munkustrap will tense up and he gets a pained and upset look on his face. he always tells her that when the time is right he will tell her about her birth mother. kiki does not understand why her father is unable to tell her about her birth mother and why it seems almost no one in the tribe talks about her, at least in front of her.

overall, kiki and munkustrap have a great relationship. it is easy for the other jellicles to tell how much munkustrap adores his daughter and how much kiki loves her father. from their interactions nd the way munkustrap protects and dotes on kiki, it is clear that munkustrap enjoys being a father. even if it is hard raising a kitten all on his own.

hope you all enjoyed it! i am not sure what i will do for the next part but if you have any questions or requests then send them my way!

#cats the musical #cats oc #jellicle oc #munkustrap #original character #munkudad #kiki cats oc #oc

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sylvie-writes · 4 years ago

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Late Night Drive

Request: hi hi my birthday is tomorrow so i'd like to request something as well :) the avenger! reader has been super busy all day and she's surprised with a late night drive downtown by steve :)) @marvelinsanity

I do apologize if this isn’t my best work. I’ve written like four fics in the past few hours (which is a lot for my lazy ass) I’m finishing this up so I can post it in time for your b-day tmrw! (well by time you are reading this, it’s gonna already be the next day lol) that’s enough of my confusing and half-asleep rambling.

Anyhoo, enjoy your special day, babe!

Tiring.

That’s the most accurate way to describe today.

Your morning started out with being immediately called to a possible bomb threat in Maryland with Nat. Missions like these weren’t out of the ordinary, unfortunately. The world is a busy place.

After checking up on the issue, it turned out to not be a major threat, thankfully, allowing you and Natasha to travel back to New York. The minute the elevator door opened, Steve ushered you to the gym for a training session with a new agent. Normally you wouldn’t mind, but you had just gotten back from a mission that had called for your attention at 3 am. You really didn’t want this trainee to be the unsuspecting victim of your sleepless wrath. After any mission, Steve, being the mother hen he is, usually forced you to rest. It was somewhat odd that he was pushing you around like this and not badgering you to sleep.

By the time you had finished training the agent, the poor young man was whipped exhausted. You had unkindly snapped at him a few times, not really meaning too.

Lunch!

Thank goodness. You happily skipped your way to the kitchen, enjoying the thought of finally relaxing and indulging in a nice and well-deserved sandwich.

Your thoughts and hopes were completely shattered when Steve gently grabbed you by the hips, spinning you towards the group of kids, who were taking a tour of the compound. Some publicly stunt Tony had organized last month, but was too lazy to actually do it himself.

“I have to go read the mission report from earlier, you got this doll!” Steve kissed your hair, giving you a lame and weak side hug before running off in the direction of his office. You turned to the kids who were smiling and you plastered a fake one of your own. Sure you were tired, but you weren’t a monster.

“C’mon.” With the most peppiness you could roundup, you lead the children past the kitchen, your unmade sandwich practically laughing at you.

You would get through this. Eventually.

The tour took four hours.

FOUR. Some total Karen of a woman decided to snap at you for not installing safety railing on the glass walkway. Um ma’am, please take that up with Tony.

She droned on and on for a good hour about all the reasons that it was dangerous. Finally you had enough and snapped.

“Well you don’t see any of us leaning over the rails, now do you? No one here is that stupid.” The woman was baffled at your sudden rebuttal. Turning on your heel, you gave a fake smile and then huffing in defeat.

At the very end of the tour, Steve had finally caught up, bidding everyone goodbye. When you turned to look up at him, he saw your red eyes and slumped posture. Immediately, he scooped you up into his arms. You tiredly wrapped your arms around his neck in the elevator ride that seemed like ages. Once in his office, Steve set you down onto the couch, giving you a blanket and letting you rest while he finished his own work.

Around eight o’clock you had finally awakened. The only thing noticeable in the dark room was the yellow lamp light from the desk and Steve’s figure, writing away. Getting up, you wrapped the blanket around your body, slowly sauntering over to Steve. From behind his chair, you soothingly massaged his shoulders. At your touch, Steve spun the chair around, capturing you in his lap.

“How about we go for a drive?”

Unsure of his sudden request, you ambivalently agreed.

Taking one of Tony’s many Audis, you nestled up in the car’s passenger seat with your blanket as Steve just drove, unsure of where to go.

“Where are we going, Rogers?”

Even in the dark lighting, you could see Steve’s cheeky smile.

“Just for a drive downtown. To take our minds off everything that happened today.”

Content with his answer, you nodded in agreement before staring out of the window and into the lit streets of New York City.

A few blocks later, Steve was parked in front of an old-timey jewelry shop. The broken canopy hanging over the door and a small source of light coming through the window’s velvet curtain.

“I’ll be right back.”

Confusion settled within your body. What jewelry store would be open this late and why?

As Steve knocked on the door, an older and smaller gentleman came to answer. The man’s jeweler loupe glasses set upon his head, just as confused until he saw Steve’s face, a smile growing onto his own. He escorted Steve inside for a few moments, then waving goodbye as your boyfriend got back in the car.

A small box was resting in his lap and your curiosity piqued tenfold.

“First of all, I am so sorry for the way I treated you today, Darling. In reality, it was to buy time.”

“Buy time for what exactly?” You scoffed at his pathetic and unconvincing excuse, tightly crossing your arms over your chest in an unbelieving manner.

“For this.” Steve unwrapped your arms and slipped a ring onto your finger. Once the ring was snugly fit on your finger, he lifted your hands to his lips.

“Bucky and I spent all day trying to find a place that could clean this ole beauty up.”

You looked down at the ring, mouth gaping in astonishment. The small yet humble pear-shaped diamond twinkled joyfully at you while the slim, silver band warmly hugged your finger.

It was absolutely gorgeous and perfect in every way.

“I think Ma approves, because it fits like a charm.” With your free hand, you brought it to your mouth, covering the benumbed look etched your face. His words made you realize that this was his mother’s ring. The other woman he loved so dearly in life.

“Steve, I-I can’t. This is your mother’s ring!” In a panic, you went to remove the ring but Steve stopped your quick movements, now holding both of your hands in his.

“My dad gave her this ring back in 1910. Before she passed, she handed it on to me, for my girl one day.” Steve’s smile almost made you melt, and you pressed your lips against his.

“Glad you like it, doll.” A chuckle left his mouth and you continued to gush over the ring.

“Oh Steve! I’ll take care of this with my life! Your mother- oh my!” You held your ringed hand close to your chest, as if telling Mrs. Rogers that you’d take care of her son. The emotions overran your body and mind, making it impossible to get any words of appreciation out.

Steve lovingly intertwined his hand in yours with you, sleepily laid on his shoulder. While driving back to the compound, Steve turned his head to lean on your smaller one.

“I love you (y/n) (l/n) and I promise to make you my wife, one day.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #sylvie's queued writing

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years ago

Text

One Monstrous Miracle (Part Five)

Okay. So. This one got away from me. It got unexpectedly dark, and I’m not sure how I feel about that but I’m going to post it and move on with the story. I am not a happy author about this chapter, for many reasons. Nevertheless, I love each and everyone of you and I hope you find it within you to enjoy this <3 (Pst! If you’d rather read on Ao3, here ya go!)

Previous-Next-First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Summary: Michael takes some initiative. So does Sandalphon. Uriel is basically the emotional support nerd ig. Aziraphale has a nightmare. Reader does NOT have a good time.

Warnings: Okay listen closely. I have written a non-graphic description of a kidnapping, and subsequently a heavily-implied violence segment. I might be overstating or understating (please tell me if I am understating!), but I just want to keep you lovelies safe.

ALSO: This is NOT a warning, but while you’re here I might as well tell you that I have used they/them pronouns for Michael, and it/its pronouns for Sandalphon (from the script).

Word Count: 2730

(@gif, shits going down)

Michael was not stupid. They were not dimwitted, or blinded by heavenly goodness, or any of the things that they could very easily accuse their fellow celestial beings of…being. They had been paying the Angel Aziraphale very close attention these past millennia, and they had seen exactly what they had expected; the Angel had gone native. Worse than that, he had gone native and he was fraternizing with the enemy. THE enemy. El Numero Uno. The Demon Crowley.

Because Michael was none of the things mentioned above, they had quite a bit of room to be some other things, like cunning, vigilant, and good at waiting for just the right moment. They didn’t bring the aforementioned knowledge to Gabriel’s attention straight away for the sake of…strategy. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that the Archangel-Fucking-Gabriel wasn’t the only gosh darned Archangel around (and that’s with a capital ‘A’, thank you very much), and so there really was no pressing need for Michael to give the information in the first place, now that they thought about it. They could investigate on their own, build up a solid case, and then work from there. Maybe get some respect around the elitist promotion trap that was their Heavenly home. If only.

Michael enlisted Uriel, knowing that she would be invaluable when looking for documents or anything paper related. She had the memory for things exactly like that. Michael brought Sandalphon precisely because they knew that Aziraphale was still terrified of it after what happened at Sodom and Gomorrah. Together, they monitored Aziraphale’s every move—although the angel had somehow devised a way to keep the group from ever being able to overhear any of his traitorous conversations with the hated Crowley, they weren’t deterred in the slightest bit. They could follow the pair, take pictures, perhaps the odd selfie when the mood hit. Michael was building their case against Aziraphale, and it was only a matter of time.

Armageddon threw everything into quite a pretty mess, now didn’t it? Aziraphale was openly discussing his meetings with his “wily adversary”, reporting on the current status and whereabouts of the Antichrist (Warlock. What a revolting name). Things were starting to get fun for the first time in about a hundred years, and Michael simply didn’t have the time for their surveillance missions anymore. Not to mention that Gabriel was demanding that they all stay together as often as possible, which was a nightmare in and of itself. Michael was rather looking forward to the end of the world, not for the gargantuan blood bath that would ensue, as most of their angelic associates where no doubt panting for, but for the endless peace that comes after a job well done.

One day, when the Antichrist (still Warlock, despite Michael’s very best efforts) was 10, nearly 11, Michael noticed something very strange about the familiar bookshop that they and the rest of the group had been watching for the last couple of centuries. There was a woman, well-dressed (Michael assumed. Angels, proper Angels, that is, Aziraphale not included, have no real sense of human fashion), practically cantering down the pavement, apparently towards Aziraphale’s shop. “No, that can’t be right,” Michael thought to themselves. Although, thinking back, that woman did look strikingly familiar. So familiar, in fact, that—

“Uriel! Take a look at this.” Michael had rolled her rolly chair away from her workstation and towards the cubicle to the right of hers. Uriel popped her head around the weird, cloth divider separating their “offices” with a curious expression.

“Yes, Michael? What is it?” The other angel asked from her rolly chair. Michael gestured that she should roll her rolly chair into Michael’s cubicle.

“I’ve found something strange in the Eden files, take a look at it.” The Eden files was their special code name for anything pertaining to Aziraphale that was not, strictly, on the books. This strange something happened to be a livestream of the street where Aziraphale lived. The woman was getting closer to the shop, although not quite close enough to tell if that was, indeed, where she was going. Michael pointed the woman out to Uriel.

“Now. She looks awfully familiar to me.” Michael’s gaze drifted from their finger to Uriel sitting beside them. Uriel had her thinking face on, which could mean one of a million different things and by this point in their long, coworker relationship, Michael had learned to just let her think. Uriel frowned slightly, moved closer to the screen, tapped a single key on the keyboard in front of them on Michael’s desk, and rewound the feed. She paused it. Zoomed in. Michael wondered why it was so difficult for the Management to install some touchscreens on the ground floor, at least for the Archangels and Possibly a few of the Principalities. They’d seen inside of Gabriel’s office (Yes! A whole, bloody corner office with glass windows instead of walls so that he can survey the worker bees in their nest and not one but TWO whole touchscreens!), after all. Uriel snapped her fingers in front of Michael’s face.

“Michael? Were you listening?” Michael, as you know, had not been listening. At all.

“Of course, Uriel. What was that last bit, again?” Uriel sighed and pointed at the woman zeroed in on.

“She visits the shop almost every day. She might be important.” Michael leaned forward in their rolly chair, squinting at the grainy image despite the fact that every angel had perfect 100/100 eyesight. They hummed.

“Yes. I quite agree. Sandalphon?” They called out the name of the coworker whose cubicle stood on the left side of theirs. They heard the familiar sound of the rolly chair growing nearer until Sandalphon sat beside the two other angels. Michael pointed to the woman on the screen.

“Let’s keep an eye on her.” They all watched as Uriel unpaused and the woman entered the shop.

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They did not have to wait long for the woman to make another move. Only a few hours later, she was hurrying out of the doors, clutching onto her purse and…crying?

“He doesn’t hold on to them long, does he?” Sandalphon remarked, rubbing its forefinger across its teeth diamonds. Uriel giggled but sobered when Michael glared at her. This was not the time for making jokes. That woman was certainly a human woman, there was no doubt about that. Why was she spending so much time around Aziraphale? Why had she run sobbing from his shop? Was this like that holiday Aziraphale took with Alexander the Great? Michael very dearly hoped not—Aziraphale had positively ruined that poor boy.

“Keep your focus on that woman. We need to learn more about her.”

The kept the feed trained on her as she made her way home. She didn’t live too far from Aziraphale’s shop. But just far enough that walking was just slightly out of her way. Uriel, the more softhearted of the bunch of angels huddled around the screen, wondered whether they should miracle her a taxicab, but she was quickly shut down.

“What, and give ourselves away? Gabriel would have our halos!” Michael exclaimed, shifting in their chair. Once the woman was in the door, Michael cut the feed, gaining the attention of the others. They cleared their throat.

“Ahem. So. Not only has Aziraphale been seen consistently in the presence of known Demon Crowley, but he also appears to have developed some sort of relationship with a…mortal woman. Once again, Aziraphale proves that he does not have the strength required to walk among them. Instead, he cavorts with them, befriends them—”

“Runs a bookshop,” Sandalphon growled helpfully. Michael nodded appreciatively.

“—and runs a bookshop. Clearly, he is no longer fit for his position.”

“That’s all well and good, Michael, but he can’t be removed from said position. Only the Almighty can deal with that level of personnel change.” Uriel reminded them calmly. Michael sighed deeply.

“I know that. We all know that. The only problem is something must be done about it. Aziraphale can no longer be allowed to continue this way. It’s heinous.” All the angels nodded their head in mutual agreement. They all tried to think of something they could do, but nothing seemed to jump out at anyone. It stayed like this for a few long moments before suddenly, Sandalphon gasped loudly, startling the other two.

“I know!” it said. “The girl. She’s important to him, right?” Uriel scoffed.

“She did just run from his shop in tears, Sandalphon, did you miss that part?” It was unfazed by Uriel’s goading.

“Exactly. It’s Aziraphale! He’s so soft, he’ll go groveling for her forgiveness within a fortnight. And when he does…”

“They’ll make up with each other. Where are you going with this?” Michael interjected impatiently, not in the mood for idle chatter. Sandalphon grinned, its teeth glinting in the Holy light.

“We kidnap her. Get us in Gabriel’s good books, get some information, and, of course, to scare powe ickle bitty Aziwaphawe. Perfect plan.”

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It was not, as it happens, the Perfect Plan. However, credit is due where credit is due, and that credit goes to Sandalphon for thinking of a Nearly-Perfect Plan. It would have been the Perfect Plan had Aziraphale and that blasted woman not been so stubborn and stayed apart for so long. The days until the Antichrist’s birthday were slowly running out, and the time during which the angels could execute said plan was drawing thin. Thankfully, the two made up just in the nick of time, so it had worked out in the end.

The trio had made the trip to Crowley’s flat, knowing that they would find Aziraphale there. Aziraphale had been flustered, but his story about checking about in the demon’s abode appeared to check out. Michael refused to take their eyes off of him the entire time. After they miracled away, they appeared in an alleyway not far from the woman’s home, and on her usual route. Michael had decided, because Michael was a little bit of an ass at times, to make the mystery just a smudge more difficult by abducting the woman outside of the home BUT simultaneously leaving a single, white wing feather on the floor of her locked flat. It really was quite devious for such a pure-hearted creature. Hmm.

The kidnapping went swimmingly. Uriel snuck up behind the woman, Sandalphon had thrown the bag over her head, and once everything was settled (or as settled as can be with a kicking and struggling woman in tow), Michael miracle them into a top-secret location. I’m afraid that I, as the author, am not at liberty to disclose the location of the following events, because of course I’d have to kill you afterwards, and I’d rather not do that.

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Angels do not have dreams. Angels cause dreams in other people, they take away dreams from other people, and they may, upon occasion, serve as conduits for messages from the Almighty, which often appear to other people as dreams. But Angels themselves do not dream. Except for Aziraphale, evidently, whose subconscious had decided to do away with the natural order of things to just…you know…spice it up a little. Aziraphale frowned deeply in his sleep and rolled over, sniffling.

He was in a corridor. There were no lights, only a faint glow that seemed to come from nowhere at all. There was one door, ahead of him, but the rest of the corridor was bare, empty grey concrete. He began to move towards the door, but the corridor seemed to get longer the closer he got, until he was nearly running, trying to make some progress down the hall but never moving one inch.

The scene changed, the corridor erupting into grey and black smoke that smelt faintly of saltwater taffy. The scene reconstructed itself as a square room lit with an old-fashioned lightbulb swinging slowly back and forth from the ceiling. There was a figure shivering on a metal chair in the center of the room, hands tied behind their back and a sack over their head. Aziraphale heard whimpering from the figure and made to rush over to help them but he found that his feet were rooted to the ground, as though someone had glued them straight to the floor. Aziraphale looked up from his shoes and gasped.

Surrounding the figure were Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon. Michael stood directly in front of the figure, bending over slightly. Sandalphon stood directly behind the figure, fingers grasping at the sack. Uriel stood apart from them both, in the corner opposite to Aziraphale. Michael made a motion at Sandalphon and it yanked the sack off of the person’s head to reveal—

Y/N. Eyes red from crying, hair a mess, makeup smudged and beyond repair. Aziraphale felt his heart stop beating. What the hell was going on? Was this some kind of joke? A voice, nagging at the edge of his consciousness told him that no, it was not a joke. Aziraphale struggled against whatever was holding his feet down with renewed vigor. He stopped when he heard your voice, hoarse and trembling. It broke him to hear you like that.

“W-who are you? What do you w-want from me?” You coughed, and Aziraphale felt a miracle dance along the tip of his fingers. He would make you well again, he would heal whatever has happened to you. You continued. “I have m-money if that’s it! It’s n-not m-m-much but—”

“Silly girl, we don’t want your money.” Came Sandalphon’s voice.

“Mmm, that’s right.” Michael responded. They leaned in closer to you, and you sank deeper into the chair to escape them. “What we want is information.”

“Wh-What? What information? I don’t- “

“What do you know of the Angel Aziraphale?” Azriaphale’s blood went cold. He had been so close to telling you himself! After all of the Armageddon mess was straightened out, he had promised himself, he would march right up to you and tell you the truth. But not now! Not when he couldn’t be there to explain, when you were hurting, being hurt, tied up like some criminal. A noise horribly like a snarl erupted from Aziraphale’s throat, startling him. Was he truly invisible in this room? After a couple of seconds of pure terror, Aziraphale’s pulse began to slow and he realized that this was most likely a vision dream, a message from someone showing him something that was either already happening, or about to happen. He prayed to anyone who would listen that it was neither of those two options.

“I swear I don’t know!” The sound of your terrified voice brought him back. Sandalphon laughed its ugly laugh and Michael chuckled.

“Should we really be doing this, Michael?” Uriel inquired softly from her spot in the corner. Aziraphale was sure he was just projecting his terror onto her, but he thought he could almost see a hint of concern in her deep black eyes. Michael just shook their head.

“It’s not as though she’ll have very long to remember it, will she?” At this, your body seized in horror, eyes open wide in shock. Fresh tears were streaming down your cheeks. Aziraphale wanted to burn this room to the ground.

“Are…are you going to kill me?” you whispered through your crying. Aziraphale held his breath to listen for the answer:

“Oh, dear me, of course not. Do you know how much paperwork that would be? Oh no. Definitely not killing you. As long as you give us the information we need.” Came Michael’s reply.

Aziraphale felt that old rage bubble up inside him, and his sword hand itched, as though the missing sword were a missing limb instead. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists. He would not debase himself in such an appalling manner. He had grown since those days, and he would not be brought to his knees by a dream.

“I told you, I don’t know anything!” you pleaded desperately. The room was beginning to fade away, smoke swirling at the edges, illuminated by the swinging bulb. Aziraphale cried out, reaching out for you only to be met with empty air.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, now, won’t we?”

The last thing Aziraphale heard before waking was the sound of Michael’s laughter.

Tag List:

@chelsfic @lordbeezyprinceofhell @bi-andreadyto-cry @petalduck @dreamerkim @stripedbugs @caligirl1992 @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen

PLEASE tell my if you want to be added/taken off/have asked before but I’m stupid so you don’t see your name here!!!!

#mine #aziraphale x reader #Aziraphale #crowley #good omens #One Monstrous Miracle #michael sheen

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ladywynneoutlander · 5 years ago

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Heart’s Abundance

Part 6 - Clear as Joy, Bright as Hope

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

This is the last installment. I really hope you enjoyed the story. You can find it here on AO3 as well. Happy New Year!

**********

Hogmanay is a festive affair, despite a freezing rain and dropping temperatures. The house is full of people. There is dancing and merrymaking right up until the moment Roger takes on his traditional role as the first foot. After he enters and presents Jamie with gifts of an egg, wood, salt, and whiskey the inhabitants of the Ridge scatter like birds so they will be ready to greet Roger at their own doors. Jamie and I follow him and Brianna onto the porch and wave them on their way.

Just as we turn to go back inside William steps up. “If I might have a moment?” The boy looks sober, nervous, and somehow eager. A strand of chestnut hair is loose on his cheek, freed by the evening’s fun.

Jamie smiles. “Aye, of course. What’s to do?”

“I was hoping to speak with you. I’ve had it in my mind for a while,” William glances sideways at me, and I give him an encouraging look. “And the new year being upon us I thought there could be no better time.”

Jamie seems surprised but gestures toward the dooryard. “Aye. Walk wi’ me then?”

William nods. Jamie bends to take a lantern from the stoop and I reach inside the house for his cloak. William takes up his own lantern. Jamie bends to kiss my cheek. And they step off the porch together, heading toward a path leading up the mountain. As the two men make their way into the night, cloaks held tight against the chilling weather, I watch until I can no longer see the bobbing of lanterns or hear the crunch of boots.

I stand for a moment longer, listening to the ping of half-frozen droplets on the roof, hoping these two very stubborn men will finally come to terms with one another. A gentle urge to pray for them moves through me. So I do, my arm wrapped around the porch post. I silently pray for the young man seeking his place, straddling the gulf between familiar English aristocracy and a whirl of newfound Scottish kin. And for the other, my Jamie, who I know longs for closeness with his son. For the relationship sacrificed early on, the necessity of which was accepted but evermore grieved. I can see the flicker of new-sprung hope in Jamie, kindled by William’s presence, and so my prayer is simple. Lord, please. Give them back to each other.

-o0OOO0o-

Jamie and William return a little time later. I have been waiting up for them, and as they enter I see the ice has turned to light snow. No one says a word, but Jamie’s smile tells me everything I need to know.

They hadn’t gone far, just up the hill to the cavern we use as a stable. Jamie sat on a bale of hay and gestured for William to do the same. The lad declined, too full of nerves to sit. Instead he paced a step or two then turned to look at Jamie. “The time has come for me to make some decisions regarding the course of my life.”

Jamie nodded, but didn’t speak so William continued, leaning against the railings behind him and gesturing as he talked. “Do I embrace this new land? Make it my own? Or do I return and take my place as Earl? I have a task to complete come spring. But then…” He trailed off for a moment, then shrugged. “Then my life is my own. To shape as I will.” He turned to Jamie. “And before I decide on that shape, I should like to know exactly how things are between us.”

Jamie spread his hands. “Speak ye’re mind lad, or ask what you will. I’ll be honest with ye.”

William nodded, seeming suddenly hesitant again, and finally sat on his own bale across from Jamie’s. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “When I found out you were my father, I’m afraid it was rather a shock. I was angry, felt betrayed. I would like to apologize for that.”

Jamie made a dismissive gesture, “Nay worry. I understand.”

“Do you, indeed? Well then, good.” William let out a breath and sat up straight. “I also understand why you and Papa did what you did for me as a boy - to a point. But why keep it from me later? When I came to the colonies, why not tell me then? By law I’m an earl either way.”

Jamie rubbed his jaw, eyes on William. “Aye, that’s true. It just seemed a hard thing for a man to take, and it wasna likely we should ever meet.”

“But we did meet. We were in the same city for God’s sake. Did you....” William unconsciously clenched his big hands. “Did you not want a son? I mean, it could complicate matters for you, with Mother Claire or Brianna maybe.”

“Och no! I wanted ye. I’ve always wanted ye William. Believe that if nothing else. No. ‘Twas only I thought you better left as you were, secure in yourself. But I’ve always wanted ye.”

Suddenly William stood, impatient, and his blue eyes flashed in the lantern-light. “You say so. But you left me. You had me with you at Helwater and you left me.”

Jamie felt his color rising and took a deep breath, “And I’m sorry for it. I had to leave. People were noticing the resemblance.”

“Do you know that I never forgot you? You’re leaving was....” William turned away, facing toward two sleepy heifers in their stall. “Well, I didn’t understand. I was only six. One day we were inseparable and the next you were gone.” Jamie sees William’s tense shoulders slump and the next words come softly, but with an intensity that tears Jamie’s heart. “I grieved for you.”

Jamie slowly came to stand beside William at the railing. “I mourned your loss as well.” He laid a hand on William’s shoulder. “I thought of you and prayed for ye. I never forgot you. William, lad, you are my son. I love you dearly and always have.”

The broad back under Jamie’s hand rose and fell in what might have been a sob. Then William swiped at his cheeks with his sleeve and faced him in the dim light. “If I’m your son then I’d like very much...for you to be my father.” He rushed to prevent Jamie’s response. “I’m no longer a little boy. I don’t want anything from you, not money nor even public acknowledgement. I’d never take what is Brianna’s. All I want sir..Jamie..is you as a father, and to be your son.”

Jamie’s own eyes grew moist, “Nothing. Nothing would please me more.” Jamie reached under his shirt and withdrew a beechwood rosary. The very one he gave William all those years ago. Wordless, he offered it once again.

William looked down at the beads, glossy with age, and he finally understood. His feelings of mixed loyalty, of fear, have all been unnecessary.What he had with Lord John and what he had lost could never be replaced; but there could still be. There is room in his heart for Papa and Mother Geneva and Mother Isobel. For Jane and Fanny. And there is still yet room for Jamie and Mother Claire, for his strange sister Brianna, for Ian and Jem. For all of them. He found there is space in his heart to embrace them all, places as unique as snowflakes for each of them, and fitting them there needn’t displace other loves.

And he realized too, that Jamie’s heart held a similar space for him. He looked at Jamie, his father, and saw tenderness and joy looking back. He does want me. The realization was as cleansing as cold water. This father truly did want him in his life. William felt tears gather anew in his eyes as he took the rosary.

“Da,” he croaked blindly. He didn’t have to take a step before he felt arms around him, and he was a little boy rescued from the mist once again. Safe, and finally, secure in his place.

-o0OOO0o-

Jamie and I steal down the stairs as quietly as we can, feeling almost giddy with exhaustion as we make our way outside in the freezing pre-dawn. The last stars shine far above us, the snow ended, and the horizon is lightening over the distant peaks of the Blue Ridge mountains. Jamie unfolds the quilt he carries and wraps us both in it, his natural heat soon warming the interior of our shelter even as our ears and noses grow cold. He links his hand with mine and we watch, mesmerized, as the sun rises. Everything is coated in clear ice, each tiny branch a singular thing of beauty. The first rays spark and glint, and in an instant the clearing is lit in a crystallized splendor of rose and gold. We are suspended in the moment. It is beautiful and sacred, joyful, and hopeful above all. A new year.

We stand for minutes, but as the sun separates from the horizon Jamie takes a deep breath, lets is out, and time is moving again. Homey kitchen sounds reach our ears and Jamie turns to me. “I never thought to be so blessed. Never in life.” He puts his hands on my hips and draws me closer, the quilt slipping unregarded from our shoulders. “Claire, after Culloden... I despaired of ever being more than a ghost haunting the place he was happiest. Then you returned, and I was alive again. And the weans, it is you who made our family possible. Not just Brianna, but William too. You bridged the gulf between them and me, both of time and the heart.” He brought one of my hands to his chest, folded it, and held it in one of his, his other arm pulling me even more tightly against him. “You are the beginning and the end of this family mo nighean donn. No matter what the year brings, war or anything else, thanks to you I can face it in the knowledge my family is loved, and that they ken it well.”

I blink and a tear slips warm down my cheek, catching on the curl of my lip as it wavers with a smile. Having no words I stand on tiptoe to kiss him. Just before our lips meet, he whispers, “I love you.”

“And I love you, Jamie. Always.”

#heart's abundance #outlander

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hookedontaronfics · 5 years ago

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First Contact series - Part 12

Title: First Contact - Part 12 Read the previous installments here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Some slight smut A/N: Finally, the chapter you have all been (hopefully) waiting for! This part of the story finds Jess and Taron finally getting their relationship back on track. There are mostly just some incredibly sweet and heartfelt moments in this chapter, and I hope you cheer right along with me as Jess tries to break through her fears. Enjoy! x

The morning broke bright and sunny, and with it a thousand promises. I’d woken up excited for today, excited to reconnect with Taron, and to hopefully give back to him somehow for all his faith in me. I wanted to know I had earned that faith, and while I knew he had promised he’d wait for me, I didn’t want to keep him waiting forever. Because for truly the first time since Kevin’s attack, I felt happy. I felt like some kind of heavy burden had lifted. I felt hopeful. Every hard truth I’d talked about in therapy, every wound I’d reopened and examined, every painful memory I’d tried to root out and mend, had culminated in this day. I wanted to move forward with my life, and the way to do that was right in front of me.

I sat up in bed, stretching out slightly, and feeling literally like a new person. I couldn’t tell you if something chemically in my brain had shifted, or if I just had unlocked a new state of mind, but the reason behind it didn’t matter. Everything felt new again; the way the sunlight filtered through the blind slats and warmed me, the whisper of the fabric of my pajamas over my skin, even the familiar scent of lavender from the satchel I kept under my pillow. Nothing had changed, but everything had.

Okay, so maybe that sounds like a completely Disney-fied version of reality, but I just felt different and I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was looking forward to being awake, not dreading it, and that made a massive difference in how I appreciated all the small things too. I wasn’t in sensory overload any longer, though I was certain I could easily slip back into that mode. I wanted to enjoy this small break of clarity for as long as I could make it last.

Before I fully got out of bed, I decided to call Taron, as it wasn’t exactly early. Saturdays were most certainly for sleeping in. He answered just before the call would have gone to voicemail, his voice still thick with sleep. “Mmmmmello?”

“Oh, did I wake you?” I asked, unable to keep the giggle out of my voice.

“Just a wee bit,” Taron yawned slightly, rustling about in his bed. “But it’s bloody late in the morning already so I guess it’s about time I got up.”

“You’re adorable when you’re sleepy,” I smirked.

“That so?” he replied, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “Would be better if you were next to me, you know.”

“Would it now?” you smiled at that.

“I do mean it, why can’t I have you here with me again?” he asked in a pouty voice.

“You know why, T. I’m working on things here,” I replied softly.

“I know, I know. I just miss you dearly. The bed feels far too big now without you in it,” he said, and I could hear the bedsheets rustling some more, and then a slight involuntary grunt as he stood up. I imagined him running his fingers through his inevitably messy hair, his nightshirt a bit rumpled, and I sort of wished I could run my fingers over it, smoothing out the wrinkles.

“Anyway, I called to talk about our plans,” I said quickly, wondering at the thought I’d just had. I hadn’t had much of an urge to touch Taron since Kevin had interrupted everything. But now I wanted nothing more than to feel that warm, firm chest under my fingers. I longed to hear his heart beating, just for me.

“I’m all ears,” he said, yawning again and making something else open up in my chest as I imagined him leaning over the bathroom sink, peering at himself in the mirror. I felt my heart trip a little at the thought, fully aware of how much I hadn’t appreciated that enough during the month I had crashed at his place. Then again, I had been actually crashing in my depression and anxiety and unable to appreciate those things. I had a lot of time to make up for.

“I just need you to pick me up at 6 sharp. I’d say I’d pick you up, but then we’d be riding the tube and seeing as it’s getting colder out now, your car is probably the better option,” I grinned.

“Yep, got it. 6 p.m. sharp. What are we doing?” he asked.

“I can’t tell you that, it’s part of the surprise!” I laughed lightly. “But just wear jeans and a nice jumper and a coat or something. We don’t have to be super dressed up for this.”

“Coat. Jeans. Jumper. Got it,” he replied. “Do I have to wait until 6 to see you?” he asked again, the longing so evident it squeezed at my heart.

“I- …” I trailed off, not really sure what to say. That hadn’t been part of my original plan either, but in many ways it felt difficult for me to wait to see him too.

“Just ignore me, I’m being ridiculous. I will be patient, and I will see you this evening love, and we will have an amazing time together,” he answered for me, probably mistaking my hesitation but I didn’t correct him.

“I could never ignore you, Taron,” I said, running my fingers over my lips in a sudden memory of his kisses. “Yes, 6, until then enjoy your day,” I replied distractedly.

“Of course. It will be so much better after 6 though, so the first part might be quite forgettable,” he smirked into the phone at me.

“Oh shush,” I had to laugh. “Just go do whatever it is a Taron does on Saturday,” I teased.

“Mostly cleaning my place, it’s a hideous wreck,” he chuckled.

“I doubt that,” you laughed with him.

“Alright, I best get to it. See you later, my love.”

“I am looking forward to it,” I said, blushing despite myself. We managed to say our good-byes and hung up, and I laid back on my bed for a long moment and sighed happily. I pulled the ring out from under my nightshirt and examined it in the sunlight, letting the diamond sparkle. Tonight was going to be special, I could feel it.

I finally managed to get up and, in a fit of inspiration from Taron himself, decided to spend my morning cleaning our flat. I felt like my depression had kept me from contributing anything to my roommates and I wanted to make up for it, so I started with the bathroom, scrubbing it down until it shined, and then going to do the same with the kitchen.

That’s where Mary found me, sprawled out on my hands and knees, head under the sink, containers of bleach and dish soap and sponges scattered around me.

“What in the world are you doing?” she asked, scaring me so that I jerked and whacked my head on the underside of the metal sink.

“Owww, fuck!” I said, backing out and resting on my heels, pressing a hand to my smarting forehead. “I’ve been cleaning!” I laughed lightly. It would be just my luck to give myself a shiner right before my date.

“Oh, well, it looks really nice,” Mary smirked at me. “I can see my reflection in the toaster now.”

“We all didn’t know what we were missing,” I giggled lightly, finishing what I was doing and stacking everything back in the under-sink cabinet. “Now we can make sure our makeup is on point while we eat our toast. Much more efficient this way,” I continued to joke, making Mary giggle even more.

“You’re ridiculous, Jess,” she grinned.

“Here, give me that,” I said, checking my forehead in the toaster reflection and rubbing the red spot that was already starting to darken. “Well I’ll be wearing my bangs down today,” I said, blowing the hair out of my face for emphasis.

“What’s tonight?” Mary asked as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. I handed her the milk absent-mindedly, already lost in thought.

“You know, I’m taking Taron out later,” I smiled. “He’s been so patient with me while I went and lost my marbles. I just feel like I should try and make an effort to give back, you know?”

“Lost your marbles?” Mary asked, sounding confused, and I forgot that sometimes phrases that were natural to me in American English were confusing as hell to her.

“You know, lost your marbles… Went a little crazy. I mean, I use that cheekily because I wasn’t crazy but I certainly wasn’t easy to deal with either. I crashed and crashed hard after Kevin and I moped around Taron’s place for a month and had very little motivation to do anything or basically exist. He’s really been a saint,” I tried to explain, as Mary gave me a sympathetic look.

“But you went through something really awful. You should be kinder to yourself. I think you’ve been incredibly strong, and I’m sure Taron would think the same thing,” she said sweetly.

“It’s just difficult to reconcile how hard I fell though. I thought I’d made better progress after three years of dealing with the fallout from the first time Kevin attacked me. So I feel a bit ashamed for falling apart so much to be honest,” I admitted.

“But the only person judging you is yourself,” Mary pointed out, words I’m sure I’d said to her before. I was good at giving advice; not so much at actually following it myself.

We chatted a bit longer before Mary decided to join me in my cleaning frenzy, and we ended up tackling the living room together, Tim protesting at us when we shoed him off the couch so we could vacuum it free of his hair. He promptly jumped back up after we were finished and glowered at us while we swept and dusted and organized everything, getting rid of old newspapers that had stacked up and even washing down the windows. They say cleanliness is next to godliness for a reason; the whole place somehow felt lighter and better for our efforts.

While Jules was still at work, Mary and I decided to run to the grocery, and I found I was truly enjoying her company as we laughed and sent Jules stupid Snapchats with jokes about various food products. It was probably juvenile, but we were in fits by the time we finally checked out. Emotionally, this was probably one of the best days I’d had in a long time. I couldn’t believe how happy I felt, and it gave me hope that there were better days coming. I could feel the darkness still waiting for me below the surface; I knew there was still work to do to keep from sliding back into it. But for now, I felt like I had gained a little freedom and I didn’t want to let that feeling go.

Once we got home, we put the groceries away and I ended up straightening up my room a bit before trying to read a little while I waited for the clock to tick closer to 6. Eventually I deemed it was time enough to start getting ready for the evening. I chose a pretty yellow silk blouse and layered that under a black pinafore with thick black tights and black boots. It was comfortable and effortless and that’s how I wanted to feel tonight. I also made sure to dig my winter jacket out of the closet, and stuffed my gloves in the pockets too. I’d probably need them later, for what I had planned.

I quickly did my makeup, able to take the redness out of my new bump but not the bruising, so after also hiding my scar, I made sure to pull my bangs down over my forehead. I was a mess, but Taron wouldn’t care; he’d only tell me I was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. I could very nearly hear him say that in my mind, and I couldn’t help but smile. He never saw the superficial things, the flaws I tended to obsess over. He’d really seen me at my worst, no makeup, unshowered, exhausted and unkempt and depressed as hell, and he still wanted to be with me so that said a lot for his character.

I paced my room slightly before my phone chimed with a text. I grabbed it and saw that Taron had texted that he was on his way. I felt a small thrill of excitement run through me, nearly like it was our first date again, and in some ways I supposed it could be counted as that; the first actual date since Kevin had altered my path, again.

When Jules finally made it home from work, she screeched at me in a decibel probably only dogs could hear about why I hadn’t told her and Mary. I tried to explain I’d only decided on this date the day before, but I’m not really sure she heard me.

By the time Taron arrived I felt like I’d worked myself up into a tizzy. Even though it was custom for Taron to come to the front door I decided to preempt that and meet him halfway so he wouldn’t have to deal with all the screeching from my flatmates. “Alright, I’ll see you ladies later,” I laughed, swinging the door open only wide enough for me to squeeze through. “Byyyee,” I laughed as Jules tried to wrestle the door away from me.

“You know Mary and I won’t mind if you don’t come home tonight, alright?” Jules said, only half-teasing me, I think.

I rolled my eyes in appreciation and then hopped down off the stoop, making Taron chuckle as I nearly ran down the walkway to him. “What’s the hurry?” he smirked, waving at Mary and Jules, who had their faces pressed to the window I’d just cleaned earlier.

“Those two, that’s the hurry. Come on,” I laughed, tugging his hand as I walked toward the car. Taron just seemed amused as he opened the car door for me, always the gentleman, but he stopped me for a second before I could sit down.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight, Jess,” he said sweetly. “And I like this,” he added, touching the ends of my wavy hair, which was now just barely sweeping over my shoulders. “When did you get it cut?” he asked curiously.

“Um, Tuesday? I think? It all sort of blurs together, but I completely forgot to tell you,” I laughed, realizing that we really hadn’t seen each other in person for a week. I suddenly felt compelled to hug him, and so I did, wrapping my arms around his middle tightly and pressing my face against his chest, breathing him in as he hugged me back. We held onto each other for probably a moment longer than was necessary, but the need was there, obvious and permeable as it hung in the space between us. He tilted my chin up to gaze in my eyes before his eyes drifted up.

“What on earth did you do here?” he asked, tapping his finger lightly on my forehead.

“Oh, that,” I cringed lightly. “I fought the sink and it won,” I said, and Taron laughed before shaking his head.

“That’s my Jess,” he said affectionately as I carefully placed the duffle bag I’d been carrying in the backseat. Taron raised an eyebrow at that in question but didn’t ask and I finally managed to duck into the car, my stomach growling. He handed me his phone after also getting in the car and I punched the address into Google Maps for the restaurant I had chosen, and soon enough we were on our way, enjoying the views of the city in the evening light. He dutifully followed the directions from Google but once we were close seemed to recognize exactly where I was taking him, and we were able to find parking quickly because he knew where to go. We walked hand in hand down the few blocks to Oxo Tower and I couldn’t feel giddier at the moment.

“Excellent choice. I’m quite fond of this place but I don’t get here enough,” he said as we took the elevator up to the eighth floor. Taron held me to him while we were in the elevator, lightly kissing my forehead and making my heart yearn for something more, but there would be time enough for that. We knew each other and yet we were just getting to know each other again in my new normal.

I gave my name at the front, thankful I had made reservations at the Brasserie as the place was rather crowded, and we were led to a table right by the large floor to ceiling windows with the very best view of London over the Thames. We got seated in the mod blue chairs and Taron stared out at the view for a long moment, looking thoughtful and handsome as ever in the black jeans and grey jumper he’d worn over a red collared shirt. He looked deeply vulnerable for a moment as he looked back over at me, and we were suspended in that moment, exchanging thoughts without a single word until our server came up, introducing herself and taking our drink orders.

“Isn’t it lovely?” I said, also staring out at the calm waters, the sun starting to sink toward the horizon and painting the clouds every color imaginable.

“Not as lovely as the view right across from me,” Taron replied, reaching over and taking my hand in his and I think noticing for the first time that I was wearing the ring on a necklace, not tucked under my clothes as before but on full display. He sucked in his breath for a moment, seeming a bit overwhelmed, and I tore my gaze away from the sunset to catch his full reaction. His eyes were twinkling a bit as the smile grew over his whole face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in the way I so loved. “You’re wearing it,” he commented softly, running his thumb over the back of my hand gently.

“I have been for a little bit,” I nodded with a smile. “I heard you, you know, when you said it was a promise. I’ve held onto that, and I think it’s helped keep me going. None of this was about running away from you, I hope you know that.”

“I didn’t understand it that day, I don’t think. I was a bit hurt and miserly but I also knew I wasn’t willing to lose you over being butthurt,” he smiled. “I’d take any kind of pain you could send my way if it just meant I got to be with you.”

“But I don’t want to hurt you, T,” I said, resting my chin in my hand and biting at my lip nervously.

“You don’t hurt me. What you went through hurts me. What I had to witness you going through, that hurts. Because I feel for you, I hurt for you, do you see? I can’t just be over here only feeling my own feelings. There are a lot of things I feel for you too. Things I wish I could inspire in you also - joy, happiness, love,” he said, his eyes actually misting up a bit.

He had to quickly recover as the waitress dropped our drinks off and we put our orders in. I asked for the pan-fried sea bass with cauliflower puree, potato gnocchi and cavolo nero, while Taron ordered the pancetta-wrapped pork filet with a lentil and treviso salad. Everything sounded so good and I wanted to order it all, but I figured we would try bites of each other’s meals, at any rate, and probably split a dessert too. The lights on the buildings were beginning to twinkle on, one after another in the darkening horizon, and the last bit of sunlight really gave us a show, oranges and reds dancing with blues and purples in the sky.

“Hey, I have an idea!” I said, getting up from the table suddenly and pulling him with me. He laughed in surprise but followed as I pulled him out onto the balcony with me. There were a couple brave souls at the tables outside but they didn’t seem to give us a second glance as we posed with the sunset backdrop, trying to take a decent selfie but Taron kept making funny faces and the harder I laughed, the worse the pictures kept turning out.

“Taaaron, I want a nice photo before it gets dark!” I giggled into my hand.

“But I love this laugh,” he grinned, wrapping his hands around my waist and pulling me in close, my hips nearly against his as he gazed at me for a minute, his expression full of adoration. He leaned in and kissed me and the rest of the world seemed to stop. Everything else just faded away, and it was just Taron and me, the feel of those soft lips against mine, claiming me, wanting me, loving me.

“Now, a proper picture,” he said after breaking away and turning me back into the crook of his arm, his head resting against mine as he held his phone out and snapped a couple of photos. I’m not even sure what my face was doing in that moment, but it didn’t matter. I was with him, and everything felt right as the day faded into darkness. By now the chill in the air had crept in under my coat and I was starting to shiver, so we ran back inside, our cheeks a bit reddened from the nip in the air too, but feeling a lot of things other than cold.

In the subtle lighting of the restaurant, the shadows danced across Taron’s face a bit, deepening his expressions as we talked about whatever came to mind, enjoying each other’s company immensely. The food was as amazing as it had sounded on the menus, and we were all too happy to dig in.

When we were quite done with our meals, stomachs full to bursting, Taron looked over at me, about to say something but the thought died before it left his lips. But I’d gotten to know him well enough to know when he had meant to say something and chose better of it. “What’s on your mind, T?” I asked him, and he shook his head.

“Nothing,” he hedged slightly, and I sighed.

“You can talk to me. Be honest with me, please,” I pleaded softly.

“I was just thinking about what I’d said earlier, before the waitress came to take our orders, that’s all,” he said after a moment.

“I heard what you said, Taron, it was very sweet,” I replied with a smile.

“Yeah, you heard me here,” he said, indicating his ears. “But did you hear me here?” he asked, tapping my chest lightly.

“I… yes, of course,” I said, watching him watch me in that introspective way he had that always made me feel like he saw more in me than I did.

“You have to let me in, Jess. There’s only so much I can do from the outside,” he said quietly. “I will always be here, no matter how much or how little of yourself you’re actually willing to give me. But I want it all, desperately.”

I had trouble sorting all of this out in my head as Taron realized I wasn’t going to respond and he resorted to paying the tab to fill the silence. But it wasn’t that I hadn’t heard him; I’d heard him loud and clear and I was at a complete loss for what to say. His words had struck me deeply because I knew he was genuine in that feeling, and I had to grapple with my fear and figure out a way to push past it if I were truly going to let him behind the walls.

“I think we should go somewhere else,” I said, a bit breathlessly, my heartbeat pounding in my ears even though I knew he couldn’t understand why I was suddenly nervous.

“Alright, anything for you, love,” he said, helping me back into my coat. We departed the restaurant and packed ourselves back into the car, and I once again plugged the address into Taron’s Google Maps. We drove in silence for a small space of time, his music our only accompaniment. This was the part of the plan I was most excited about, and as Taron drove us further away from the lights of the city he went “ahh” in recognition.

“You remember what happened here, don’t you?” I asked at that, and he nodded but didn’t say anything at first as we took the winding road past thickets of trees that signaled the preserve was near. We eventually got parked and I pulled the lanterns out of my duffle bag, handing one to Taron and hefting the bag over my shoulder. I slipped my gloves on and then entwined my gloved fingers in his as we walked along the worn path, our breaths puffing out into the chilly air.

“I remember the last time we were here I was a complete and utter dick. What kind of man leaves his lady in the middle of the woods to fend for herself?” he sighed, his voice loud and clear in the still night air. There was no bonfire today, not a single soul in sight as we made our way to the hidden pickup truck in the clearing in the woods, a place where we’d first really connected, and the place I had caused us both so much pain. We clambered back up into the bed of the truck after Taron had uncovered it again, settling into the cushions and covering ourselves with the blankets I’d brought with me, snuggling up to each other and staring at the stars twinkling far overhead.

“You didn’t understand what you were up against. I don’t hold that against you, at all,” I said softly, feeling his warmth radiating out as I hugged onto his body and he enveloped me with his arms. The lanterns gave us just enough light to see each other by, and he had such a soft, warm expression on his face at the moment it made my heart beat even faster, if that were possible. “I’ve tried to explain it, tried to help you understand. The things I think in my head aren’t always rational, the fears I have feel insurmountable. But it’s not about you, at all. And I need your help to grow beyond these things. Your patience, your faith in me, your love. I have been happier and I have been healing ever since I somehow tripped into your life, and I needed to speak honestly about that. It’s been a long journey, and I can’t imagine there won’t be more difficult days ahead, more times where I seem to take steps backwards and not forward. But Taron, please, don’t ever doubt how much I love you back. No matter how afraid of that I can be, the joy waiting on the other side is worth it to keep fighting. And I will fight, for us. Through everything Kevin has put me through,” I rambled slightly, my voice growing passionate at times, teary at others, trembling with the rush of my words.

I felt his arms tighten around me as I talked, watched the way his expressions changed as he reacted to what I said. “I’ll fight for you too, every damn day you let me,” he said, brushing my bangs back slightly. “I know I can’t protect you from everything, I couldn’t protect you from this. But you’re mine, and if I can help it nothing else will ever hurt you again,” he said a bit fiercely, his eyes burning with a bit of passion that I felt reach into my soul.

“I told you I needed to make a promise, and so this is it; I promise to be as kind and true to you as you’ve been with me. So,” I said, sitting up enough to unclasp the chain from around my neck, and sliding the ring off of it, tucking the chain in my pocket and taking his hand sweetly. “I think it’s time for you to put this on my finger,” I smiled softly at him, and the sheer unbridled happiness reflected back at me was worth every bit of this moment.

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, gingerly picking the ring up and taking my left hand in his and sliding it carefully on my finger before lifting my hand to his lips and placing a sweet kiss there. “You know I’ll do this proper, of course, but you have no idea how happy this makes me,” he smiled sweetly.

“I know how perfect this moment feels,” I smiled back, wishing we could stay in that moment forever, but I already couldn’t feel my fingers or toes, and Taron wasn’t even wearing gloves, the tip of his nose already reddened from the bite of the air.

“It is perfect. I feel a bit on fire,” he said, his voice going a bit gravelly as he pulled me to him and kissed me deeply, passionately. Oh to be kissed by Taron, it was unlike anything else. He was never pushy even when he made his desires known, but there was always so much emotion behind it too. I knew without a doubt that he was never going to leave me alone in how I felt. He was always so giving of himself, and I was falling ever so much more in love with him as we kissed under the stars, wrapped up in each other until we couldn’t stand the cold anymore.

I laughed as I struggled to wrestle the blankets back in the duffle, and on half-numb legs we managed to totter our way back to the car, our teeth chattering but our laughter light and our hearts even lighter. We blasted both the heat and the Elton, singing at the top of our lungs, and I couldn’t have felt more like I belonged anywhere but by Taron’s side. He kept looking over at me as he drove, so much love in his expression I could barely stand it. This was what it was like to let him in, I thought. It wasn’t so scary after all. I knew I could trust him; I also knew that this would take a lot more work on my part to keep the gates open. Tonight was easy; tomorrow might be a struggle. But we were both ready to face that together, and making this commitment to stay together, to be each other’s one and only, bonded us far deeper.

He pulled up in front of my darkened flat and put the car in park, brushing his hand over my thigh slightly and sighing. “Really wish I didn’t have to leave you here tonight,” he said softly.

I looked up at my flat and then back at Taron, realizing that I truly didn’t want to leave him either. “You don’t,” I said quickly. “Take me home, Taron.” He gazed at me for one long instant before quickly putting the car back in gear and taking the streets he knew oh so well, driving us back to his home. We made it just inside the door before he had pushed me up against the wall, kissing me with an intense need I could only try and match. We had only been intimate once after the attack and I’d sunk into my depression; I hadn’t been able to give this to him and though we’d never spoken about it he had always respected my need for space.

But the heat and tension and desire between us now was undeniable, a force greater than my fears. I needed and wanted to give in to him as we shed our jackets in the hallway, dropping our clothes along the way to his bedroom. We fell into bed in a strange assortment of half-dressed; I was in my bra and tights while Taron was still in his jumper and boxers and one sock still on. We couldn’t care less though as we deepened our kisses, lust taking over any sort of logic as he climbed over me.

“Is this okay?” he breathed into my face, checking in with me even as his fingers dragged along the skin of my waist, leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched.

“Yes, please, I want you now,” I gasped slightly, feeling how hard he was for me already. He made quick work of our remaining clothes, his hands traveling over the curves of my body, seeking out the places that made me moan for him, still learning his way around me as I gave in to him in every way. He remembered to grab a condom and slid it on before joining our bodies, making both of us groan for each other. The sensation was heady, certainly, and I could only crave more of this intimacy. Because this was more than just having sex, or being used, or even worse, abused. Taron gave so much of himself over to me, trusted himself to me, and I knew we were only just standing at the beginning of something really beautiful together.

Neither of us needed long to find our highs together, and when he finally collapsed on top of me, his weight both familiar and comforting, I felt sure that our souls had collided too. I felt completely calm, the constant storm inside of my head subsided, at least momentarily. I ran my fingers through his messy hair, watching him as he tried to keep his eyes open, having worn himself out. It made me smile to know what we had, what I was capable of opening my heart up to. Taron made me feel strong and fierce and worthy, things I had never fully known about myself.

“I’m so grateful for you, T,” I spoke into the comfortable silence that surrounded us.

“You are my world, Jess,” he said sweetly, running his finger lightly over the band that now encircled my finger. “I won’t let you forget it,” he smiled sleepily at that. Getting to see this side of him always felt like the best part; the way he looked at me just before he fell asleep that told me we’d be together even in his dreams. And maybe we were really living inside those dreams, I thought to myself as his eyes drifted closed again and stayed that way, his body relaxing into sleep beside me.

“Oh you beautiful, beautiful man,” I said to the quiet bedroom, hardly believing I was even here right now. I closed my eyes and pulled the blankets up around us both, getting comfortable while snuggling into his body, happy for this one perfect moment at least. Laying there next to him, knowing his heart belonged to me, truly felt like being home.

While her relationship with Taron feels certain, can Jess keep the storms at bay? Or will their happiness run out? Find out in Part 13 - Coming soon!

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron x reader #taron fluff #taron fanfiction

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xnadercrownboiofnorhb · 6 years ago

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Of Knights and Dragons: Chapter 6, Alliances Part 2

Hey pals! Sorry I am so late I have had to exams and many long shifts over the last week, but here is the second installation of Chapter 6! (There are 3 parts in all) More drama ensues!

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Much Love

The deep violet of night washed over the vast mountains surrounding the quiet kingdom of Mithia. The entire kingdom was illuminated with soft lanterns shimmering throughout the city. The castle was clamoring with the din of esteemed Mithial nobles, mingling and loitering about the courtyard and the main hall, eagerly awaiting the presentation of the Nohrian princesses. Amidst the gossiping aristocrats, diligent attendants served delicate pastries and fragrant berry tea. Charming melodies filled the night sky as a small Mithial orchestra performed with skillful fingers.

The Nohrian retainers peppered the scene, keeping a watchful eye out for any potential foul play. While most of the nobles accepted the alliance with open arms, seeing the powerful symbiotic relationship that could blossom from this union, several Mithial influencers made it very clear they wanted nothing to do with Nohr and its everlasting squabble with Hoshido. Flora and Gunter stood on either side of the grand stairwell from which the princesses would descend when they finally made their entrance. They stood proud as magnificent beacons, shining in their formal attire, the very epitome of Nohrian excellence.

The haze of noise that filled the atmosphere dissolved at the sight of the Prince of Mithia descending the long stairwell. Truly a vision in his deep navy doublet embellished with the finest silver. His thick, luxurious hair was swept back beneath a thin, regal crown.

“Dear friends and distinguished guests,” The prince spoke with a winning smile, the glistening gauntlets on his hands outstretched in a benevolent welcome, “I am truly overjoyed to have all of you here tonight as we write history together. As you may know, Xander, the Crown Prince of Nohr and I have officially established an exciting alliance between Nohr and Mithia.” The prince continued his descent until he was at the center of the ballroom. “Tonight, we are not only graced with the lovely Princess Camilla and sweet Princess Elise, but illusive Princess Corrin herself. Lady Corrin comes as a representation of our new partnership” Small excited whispers bounced about the crowd in anticipation for the reception of the unknown Princess. Her first formal appearance beyond the confines of Nohr.

“I would like to take a moment to thank our royal attendants, without their hard work, this lovely feast simply could not be.” He gestured to Tobias and the line of Mithial servants who bowed with rosy cheeks in response to his gratitude. Effie raised a goblet in agreement, mouth full of food, her other hand holding a silver platter filled to the brim with various entrees.

“Now, you haven’t congregated here to listen to me ramble on,” The prince was met with the soft laughter of his people, “I am so very privileged to introduce to you, the ethereal Nohrian Princesses.”

The crowd hushed as the orchestra reduced to a romantic melody in minor; a lovely duet of piano and cello. Descending from the stairwell first was Elise, her voluminous blonde hair woven back with ribbon into a wreath of braids. Like a charming porcelain doll, the ruffles of her black Norhian ball gown swaying as she bounded down the stairs with perhaps a little more excitement than what was proper. Elise immediately won the crowd over with her endearing nature as she gleefully met the prince that bowed before her. With a sweet curtsy, she stood beside him and turned to watch Camilla make her way down to the ballroom.

She was a true beauty in her enchanting trumpet gown. Her luxurious lavender hair was braided off to the side, cascading down her shoulder and over the sweetheart cut of her snug gown. Much like Elise, her gown was also an ode to Nohr, a shadowy black with subtle sparkling gold details. To absolutely no one's surprise there wasn’t a single set of eyes in the attendance that didn’t admire the voluptuous eldest Princess. She moved intentionally with her bare, regal shoulders held high and slowly sauntered over to be greeted by the handsome prince and join her younger sister. There was a complete stillness in the air as the final Princess appeared from behind the Mythril pillars at the top of the marble stairwell.

Corrin was extraordinarily nervous, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She moved timidly, feeling vulnerable in the eyes of so many noble strangers. As she apprehensively made herself visible, she met the warm, admiring eyes of Flora. The gaze of her dearly beloved maid comforted the Princess. Flora beamed with pride, tears bubbling in the corners of her eyes as she held a hand to her lips. Noting Flora’s powerful reaction, the Veteran Knight who stood parallel to her turned to see for himself. His heart seized in his chest, his lungs unable to fill with air.

Princess Corrin descended the stairs, encased in the light of chandeliers that enveloped her like a halo. Her short raven hair was swept back and pinned in place by a single Mithial Poppy. Her dress moved like the darkest night sky, shining stars of golden embellishments twinkled in the trail that shadowed her. A form fitting shoulder-less bodice with an open back lay beneath a sheer high-neck overlay that modestly covered her chest and extended out into sleeves upon her soft, fair arms. Only now did it dawn on Gunter that in all of his years in service to the woman, he had never seen her properly outfitted as the Princess she truly was. His heart could barely endure it.

The moment their eyes met, time came to a halt, the somber song of the cello melted to silence and the crowds of people faded away into oblivion. It was just the two of them. The Princess and her dashing Knight. He could see his infatuation reflecting in her eyes as she admired him for a precious moment. She felt as though she could stare at him for an eternity. She reluctantly pried her eyes away before her gaze upon her handsome Knight became perceptibly inappropriate to the crowd before them. Instead, with a false smile, her eyes fell to the Mithial prince, whom to her... sorely paled in comparison.

“My eyes are truly privileged to gaze upon such a vision.” Prince Giovanni smiled, respectfully bowing to Princess Corrin.

“You flatter me, Lord Giovanni.” Corrin smiled mirroring his polite gesture.

“May I have the honor?” He lifted his open palm to her, an invitation to initiate the ball. With pins and needles in her stomach, she promptly accepted; lest she hesitate and cause a spectacle. The moment their hands connected the union of the Nohrian-Mithial alliance was publicly solidified. The Mithial Prince drew Corrin close, driving a dagger into the center of Gunter’s chest.

The Knight was suffering, standing stationary at the base of the stairwell forced to watch as Prince Giovanni’s hand fell to the small of Corrin’s exposed back. Gunter maintained his stern stoicism, but beneath his rough exterior, he ached. He tried to soothe himself through rationalization; this was simply political, and even if it were not, Corrin is a woman - not his possession. Yet, no amount of logic, no matter how much he told himself he had no right to feel envious… He still did. He had never been a particularly jealous man - but perhaps that was only because for too long he had nothing of value to be taken away from him.

Flora watched Gunter with sympathy. She too, was greatly uncomfortable watching her dear Corrin slowly sway in circles around the ballroom. Anyone who truly knew Corrin could see how artificial this display was. Flora knew the Princess to be altruistic and courageous, gentle and ferocious, an incredible woman, a leader, a friend. This bizarre union, over which noble onlookers swooned, was... fake. It wasn’t who Corrin truly was. Yes, the Princess was a marvel, but she gracefully moved with concealed anxiety. She was scared and uncomfortable, yet she remained composed. Flora wanted nothing more to dash over to her rescue and swat the Prince away.

Corrin moved seamlessly over the shining ocean of the mythril ballroom floor. She allowed herself to breath and relax as Giovanni gently lead her around the extravagant room.

“You’re a natural.” the Mithial Prince spoke softly, presenting her with a brilliant smile.

“I had a lot of time to practice.” Corrin laughed.

“What crime of King Garon to keep such a treasure locked away for so long.” Corrin’s stomach churned, she had no idea how to respond, her heart began to pound in her chest. She smiled weakly in attempt to mask her panic, a silent cry for help. Surely the universe was listening, as before she could form a response, the orchestra gently subsided and the royal Prince withdrew from her with a final polite bow. With the soft curtsy she gave in response, the first dance was complete and the ball was initiated. Mithial nobles crossed the threshold onto the ballroom floor and moved together gracefully in celebration of the newly forged alliance.

The veteran Knight watched the Princess as she politely entertained the snobbish nobles that violated her with their prying eyes. Like Flora, he could see so clearly how unnatural this was for Corrin. He knew she was uncomfortable and there was absolutely nothing he could do to relieve her. Gunter squirmed in his skin, suffocating in his helplessness. He observed the scene carefully, eagerly awaiting an opportunity to flee without notice. The moment the opportunity presented itself, he eagerly took advantage of it and excused himself to an off-branching corridor.

Princess Corrin may have been deep in frivolous conversation with several nobles, but she sensed the moment her Knight departed from the ballroom. She could feel the vacancy he left in the room even before she glanced over to the lonely stairwell where he once stood. A lump formed in her throat; she wanted to chase after him but she couldn’t break free from the chains of her social obligation.

Murmurs of admiration sprouted about the room as Princess Camilla swayed onto the ballroom floor hand in hand with Prince Giovanni. The contrast between her performance and that of Corrin’s was uncanny. The eldest princess moved with confidence and unmatched grace. A genuine display of Nohrian royalty that only stoked the fire of Corrin’s feelings of fraudulence. All eyes were on the curvaceous Princess, granting Corrin a moment to catch her breath.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my Lady?” A kind voice quietly chirped, that of the handsome young butler, Tobias.

“Of course.” Corrin tried her very best to sound convincing, but Tobias knew better.

“Truly? It is entirely acceptable to feel a little overwhelmed, Princess. I do not believe a single soul in this room would blame you if you needed a moment to yourself.”

“Do you truly mean that?” she spoke quietly and with hesitation.

“Yes. I remember Prince Giovanni’s first royal engagement. His poor mother had to coax him out a nervous breakdown in from of the entire kingdom.” Tobias placed a reassuring hand upon her bare shoulder, “I will personally see to it that no one gives you any grief.” Corrin nodded politely to dismiss herself, earning an encouraging smile from the butler.

Quietly and slowly, she made her way around the mezmorized crowd and slipped into the dim corridor just beyond the grand stairwell. It was as if she passed into an entirely different world as the large ebony doors quietly closed behind her; silence and candlelight. Immaculately polished suits of armor lined the ornate walls, royal mythril armor nobly posed. Planted at the end of the corridor, stoic and still, was Gunter. With his proud, impeccable posture, he fit in well among the armored figures surrounding him.

“Sir Gunter…” The princess moved softly and intentionally towards the Veteran Knight who greeted her with a fractured smile.

“Lady Corrin…” His smile soon faded as he looked towards the dark doors from which she emerged, “You should not be here, your Majesty, surely someone will come looking for you.”

“We shouldn’t be alone together long, but the Prince’s attendant gave me time. Camilla of course is a helpful distraction, all eyes are on her.”

“Certainly not all eyes, Princess.” Gunter hesitated for a brief moment before affectionately brushing back a rebellious tuft of raven hair from her cheek. “In all of my years,” his voice was hushed and tender, “never have I laid my eyes upon a more beautiful sight.”

“Gunter…” Corrin’s cheeks blossomed into a deep blush, “You made it difficult to focus on anything in there. It was painful to try and keep my eyes off of you.” Gunter chuckled warmly at her flattery, his hand fell to claim hers, his thumb gently tracing circles in her palm.

“I would give anything to escape all of this, to run away and be alone with you.” Corrin spoke with such conviction, catching Gunter off guard.

“Corrin…” her name escaped his lips in a gentle whisper.

“I mean that. Every word.”

The bright laughter of Elise could be heard emanating from beyond the doors, reminding the two of the rambunctious, demanding world that lay beyond. Gunter sighed, and raised Corrin’s hand to meet his lips. It was a delightful fantasy to entertain, running away to some far off place together; away from Mithia, away from Nohr, away from all of the chaos. Yet, they knew the weight of the burden on their shoulders, they simply could not defect from a country that truly needed them.

“We will get through this night,” he reassured her, fingers tenderly interlocked they made their way towards the door, “together.” Corrin pushed up onto her toes to press a gentle kiss to Gunter’s cheek. They lingered, sharing a mutual smile before releasing their hands from one another and returning to the ballroom.

In the heart of the dance floor, Elise was twirling in circles with her charming, if a little clumsy, retainer, Arthur. There was a light, cheerful air about the room as the man beamed with laughter. Weaving about the dancing aristocrats was another unlikely pair, Camilla spun around the room with a very unamused, disgruntled Beruka pressed into her bust. At the sight of this display, without hesitation Corrin clasped her hand around Gunter’s wrist. Oh no, a pang of fear hit the Knight’s stomach as he felt a tug at his arm. He shot Corrin anxious glance, shaking his head in protest, but it only encouraged the grinning Princess to grasp onto the Veteran with both hands and pull him out onto the ballroom floor. He tried so hard to collect himself, with his poor heart pounding in his chest; but when he felt Corrin’s gentle, reassuring hand upon his shoulder, he felt grounded. From beneath her hand, a warmth spread from his shoulder, across his chest and stilled his anxious heart.

Under the curious eyes of the crowd surrounding them, he was very careful about the placement of his hands, very conscious of maintaining an appropriate distance between the two. It didn’t take long for Corrin’s contagious smile to spread to the Knight’s lips. His confidence returned to him as his strong arms lead the Princess in seamless turns and steps. Corrin found herself impressed by the Kight’s unexpected grace. There was something so indulgent about being so close to one another, to be touching one another so openly. Amidst her sisters, the pair didn’t raise a single eyebrow. No, it was just a charming princess and her stoic, noble retainer.

“Every man in this room wishes he were me right now, you know that?.” Gunter whispered into Corrin’s ear.

“Whatever for?” Corrin teased, “Your charm? Your dashing good looks?” She earned a smooth chuckle from the Knight.

“I am so… happy.” Gunter struggled to find words that could properly describe the tremendous warmth that enveloped his heart. “Thank you, Corrin.”

The Princess gazed into his eyes, her hands grasping onto him a little tighter. She drew just a little closer to him as they swayed; harmless, as they were hidden amidst the other pairs. For just a moment, they felt alone together. Moving in time with the romantic cello, Gunter felt young again, invigorated. He was no longer a war-hardened soldier, a stern Knight Commander, he was simply a man, dancing with a woman. He wasn’t prepared for the moment to pass, as the orchestra’s ballad slowed to an end. He didn’t want to let go, he wanted to live in this moment. Corrin released herself with a gentle smile and reluctantly withdrew from him, taking his breath with her as she retreated.

“Sir Gunter!! Dance with me next!!” Elise grasped onto the Knight, shocking him out of his daydream. He shot a frightened look to Corrin as silent cry for help. Corrin dismissed him with a smile, watching with amusement as Elise excitedly dragged him away. Corrin chuckled and stepped away from the dancing pairs before she too was claimed by another partner.

She made her was over to the impressive, elaborate banquet spread for a glass of wine. Nodding happily to Effie who enthusiastically filled up a third or fourth plate. With a silver goblet of red wine in her palm, Corrin made her way to a balcony overlooking the ethereal castle courtyard. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before someone approached her, this time a young Mithial maid with whom Corrin hadn’t previously spoken with.

“My Lady.” She bowed her head respectfully as she extended a small envelope with the same wax stamp that imprinted Corrin’s invitation letter. “From Prince Giovanni.”

“Thank you.” Corrin accepted the envelope and examined it in her hand, she looked up to inquire about its contents, but the maid had vanished.

With care, Corrin slipped her thumb beneath the seal of wax, allowing the letter gently unfold. It wasn’t a particularly long letter, but as Corrin’s eyes scanned over the delicate calligraphy, her face grew pale and a knot twisted in her stomach. With those few words, the goblet fell from Corrin’s hand with a crash, spraying red wine across balcony floor.

No.

#corrin x gunter #gunter x corrin #fire emblem fanfiction #fire emblem fates fanfiction #of knights and dragons #xnaderwrites #fe gunter #fe corrin #fire emblem gunter #fire emblem corrin #Fire Emblem OTP #fire emblem support #fe 14 #fire emblem fates #ooooh snap #im not dead #this chapter gettin juicy #f!corrin

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myrish-lace-love · 7 years ago

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Kill the Boy (Jonsa Ficlet, spoilers for GOT S7 Episode 5)

Summary: Jon communicates with Sansa through Ghost while they are separated. Jon realizes, with Sansa’s help, that he needs to kill the boy and let the man be born to get off Dragonstone and back to the people he loves. (Tagging a few people who might be interested @sophmounty @hyojung12 @hopepeaceandblackgirlmagic @bisansastarks)

The next installment in my Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder series of fix-it fics. You can read them all on AO3 here.

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here.

***

Jon’s fingers trembled as he held the scroll Varys delivered. The man had bowed and shuffled out of the room without a word.

Sansa had been brave enough to write to him, even when he couldn’t write to her.

He stared at the direwolf impressed into the wax. On an impulse, his kissed the seal. He closed his eyes and imagined her in the Lord’s Chambers, scratching with a quill, her long hair unbound before she retired for the night. He could even see a few clouds outside her window, and Ghost curled up at her feet.

He wished he could be in those chambers with her. Hold her. Stroke her hair, pull her close, whisper that everything would be all right…

Jon? His feelings had been running strong, strong enough that he’d let his guard down. Sansa was with him, thanks to Ghost’s mind.

Sansa. He started to tell her he had the scroll, he hadn’t read it yet. A wave of sadness blindsided him.

Ghost was looking up at her. Her skin was blotchy from crying. His heart constricted with need, with the desire to calm her. To be there, gods damn it, by her side.

Sansa, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Tell me, please.

He could see Sansa wiping tears from her eyes Jon, I’m fine, don’t worry, I…she started crying again.

Jon held his head in his hands. He’d steal one of the dragons if he had to. He’d steal Theon’s boat. He sent her tenderness, and devotion.

I’ll come for you soon, Sansa, I swear it. What’s wrong?

Sansa composed herself. He could still feel the storm churning inside her. He marveled again at her ability to keep up this front, in spite of the adversity she faced.

He sensed she needed a moment. He waited. He’d wait all night. He saw the rise and fall of Sansa’s chest. She worried at the edges of her gray dressing gown.

There’s good news, Jon, did you receive the scroll?

I did. I haven’t opened it.

Arya’s here. Bran’s here.

Jon sat back, stunned. All of them, all his living siblings, at Winterfell. Arya, quick and bold. Did she still have Needle? Bran, sweet and shy - he hadn’t kept his promise, about taking him on an adventure to the Wall. He could see them, all together, if he could only leave this island behind. Warmth bloomed in his chest.

I’m glad you’re happy, Jon, I am too.

I am, it’s incredible, better than I could have hoped, but…Is there anything else, Sansa? He asked gently, sent the question like a feather-light kiss in her mind. She was so distraught, he didn’t want to push her.

Read more below or continue on AO3

He felt her weariness then, her loneliness.

Arya…the Northern lords tried to give me the kingdom this morning. They’re restless. I told them you were their King, Jon and we needed to trust you.

He had tears in his own eyes now, at the faith she placed in him, at the fierceness of her loyalty. Bitter disappointment coursed through his veins. He knew staying on this island would cause her trouble, and yet here he was, trapped.

Daenerys had given him fine chambers, with bold carvings of stone dragons, high up in the castle.

A gilded cage was still a cage.

He slipped, lost control of himself. You should be queen, Sansa, you should, I wish I could give you the title. I…thank you for still believing in me. But I’m not sure I deserve to be King.

He felt a flash of anger, intense enough to make him shake his head.

I don’t want to be Queen, Jon, do you understand? I don’t! I only want us all together, here at Winterfell!

He took a deep breath. I know that Sansa, I only meant…I hate that you have to clean up the mess I left. I knew you’d handle the North beautifully.

Sansa withdrew. Jon’s stomach twisted. He put another log on the fire, and stirred the embers. What had gone amiss? He only had himself to blame, whatever it was. He’d been away far too long.

Sansa’s next answer was slightly more measured, but he still felt her turmoil.

Arya…Arya thinks I want Winterfell for myself. That I’m in the Lord’s Chamber because I like nice things.That I think I’m better than other people. But all I want is for you to come home. I’d sleep in the street if it meant having you back, Jon.

Jon ran a hand over his face. Arya…perhaps Arya would be wary of Sansa at first. Sansa and Arya hadn’t been close, as children.

But if Arya thought he doubted Sansa, he wanted to put that fear to bed. Sansa deserved better.

Can you…can you find Arya for me? Let her touch Ghost? I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her.

He felt Sansa’s conflict - hope, relief, a current of dread. The castle’s retired for the night, Jon, I’m not sure I could.

Sansa, please. Let me help you. Let me solve this problem for you, at least.

He watched Sansa close her eyes, and saw some of the tension leave her shoulders. He felt a glimmer of her happiness. All right, Jon. I’ll see if she’s still awake. I’ll bring Ghost.

The connection snapped, and there was nothing to do but wait. He paced for a few moments, then sighed. He looked at the silver tray on his table. The seared fish wasn’t going to get any fresher.

Daenerys had invited him to dine tonight, and he’d refused. He’d wanted to avoid making awkward, stilted conversation with a woman who kept him prisoner and demanded he bend the knee. But he knew that sooner or later, he’d have to sup with her. He could enjoy this meal alone, at least.

He was wiping his fingers clean when Sansa came back to him.

Arya’s here, Jon.

His heart started to pound. He saw black leather boots on the floor and sensed a new presence as Arya reached for Ghost.

Jon! Arya was overjoyed…and angry. Jon, come back! Come back home, Sansa’s ruining it, she’d ruining everything, she wants to be Queen, I hate her for it-

Jon dropped the napkin. He was overcome with a swarm of emotions. Relief that what he felt for Arya was the pure, familial bond of brother and sister. Nothing unnatural, nothing twisted. He loved her dearly. He wanted to run to her in Winterfell’s courtyard and pick her up and spin her around, just to hear her laugh. Her presence in his mind after so many years healed a place in his heart he hadn’t known was broken. But…

There was a fury in her now, a darkness, that was foreign to him. She’d changed, somehow, in her travels. He started by conveying how much he cared about her.

Arya, I’m so glad you’re home. I love you.

Her darkness receded, and he felt a hint of the girl she’d been. I love you too, Jon, I…I still have Needle. Beat Brienne to a draw today.

He smiled at the pride radiating from her.

I can’t wait to see that. I’ve got a sword now too, Longclaw, we’ll fight together. But Arya, we need to talk about Sansa.

A flash of rage again. She’s trying to take your place Jon-

Jon pushed back.

She’s not. She’s not, Arya. I gave her the North. I gave her the Lord’s Chambers. She turned me down, I had to offer twice. She’s holding the North for me, because I asked her to, and because I trust her. We…we all need to trust each other, Arya, and I trust Sansa to rule for me while I’m gone.

He furrowed his brow. This was a delicate business, conveying how deep his trust in Sansa ran, while leaving out his other feelings. He poured all the faith he had in Sansa through Ghosts’ connection, willing Arya to believe him.

Ghost’s head was turned in Arya’s direction, and he saw her chew her lip. When she reached back out, her anger was tempered. I - I believe you, Jon. I do. I’m sorry. I just…I wanted to see you, when I came back. I missed you so much.

Jon breathed a sigh of relief. I missed you too, Arya. I’ll be home soon.

He watched Arya give Sansa a hug, and rejoiced at the soft swell of affection he could sense between the sisters. Sansa’s brow was smoother once Arya left. Sansa stroked Ghost.

She was lovely, and alone, and he yearned to be near her.

Have you figured out a way to leave, Jon?

I will. Theon’s here, I’ll steal his boat if I have to. He tried to make it seem like a jest.

Sansa was stern. Tell me you didn’t hurt him. You swore you wouldn’t, Jon.

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. I didn’t, Sansa. He’d come close. Very close.

And you don’t have to steal his boat. You can take his boat. Any boat. You’re a king, Jon, and if you’re going to come home to me you have to start believing it. You have to start acting like one.

He felt her love, and affection, and desire, pouring into him. Strengthening his resolve. Stirring his blood.

She was right.

He could be a king, for her sake.

It was time.

Time to kill the boy, and let the man be born.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #game of thrones spoilers #jonsan fic #jonsalove

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queenisobelle · 5 years ago

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48-Hour Tinder Journey

Modern dating is a very complicated thing as an in denial adult these days. If you are one of those singles among their group of happily married, engaged, or officially/unofficially committed group of friends, maybe you will wonder where you shall be seeing yourself years from now when you have set upon yourself the time or age of which you want to get married, have kids and start a messy but happy family. Pressures come everywhere ranging from social media memes to that aunt who keeps asking you about your plan on getting married. Why do they even do that? Will they pay for the wedding? Will they change those dirty diapers of your future little humans? The point is that those unnecessary single-shaming and social pressures come from everywhere and for someone who’s happy with his life, those things shouldn’t have mattered. Or if indeed they mattered, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal to stay as a lone wolf among the pack of hyenas which are high on endorphins.

Meeting in person comfortably is not for everyone so most people opt to use online dating. On a normal way of starting a face-to-face conversation with a complete stranger, it would’ve been awkward. I mean, how do you start a conversation from scratches? How do you approach a person without looking like a disoriented potato who forgot how to talk to humans? May it be on dating sites or social networks, the most common is through dating apps. One of the most popular apps is Tinder. Such app had existed for quite a while now that I even heard about it since I was in my junior years in college. Back then, I thought it was just a puzzle game app so I had to uninstall it out of disappointment when I found out that it was a dating app.

Fast forward. It’s 2020 and my bisexual male friend told me about how he met a decent guy from the app and how their first date went absolutely well so they eventually enjoyed the night that he ended up ditching our plans to catch up over a bottle of my favorite Mojitos tequila. He told me to try using the app coz you bet my magnetic bookmarks from Big Bad Wolf that I’m single AF. So I gave the app a chance and installed it and set a 48-hour countdown timer because the least thing that I want over my uncommitted hypothalamus is to be dependent on the app for social encounters. I’m an introvert and it could be a wicked thing to be stuck in a virtual dating app.

*I got mistaken as a trans quite a few times. LOL. Not offended, though.

Over the course of 48 hours, after countless “swipe lefts” and “swipe rights”, my profile had a few matches which means you both swiped right on each other’s profile signifying a mutual interest based on the displayed pictures and other details such as but not limited to age, sexual orientation and preference, hobbies, anthem, and a short bio of what you want the other person to notice about your profile. Out of those matches, not everyone is going to chat first so I did the first chat on some guys that I matched with. Out of those few chats, I have categorized the different types of guys that you can meet in Tinder into three categories: friendly, naughty, and boring. I can’t speak for the other guys that I didn’t match with or those guys that I matched with but didn’t chat either. The three classifications of the guys I chatted in Tinder are merely based on how they responded to my decent and friendly chats.

I figured out that most guys in that platform are not so bad at all. Most of whom I had encountered were friendly guys who share at least one same interest with me – books, TV series, travels, etc., etc. Some of them ended up being my friends or on mutual following in the other social media platforms. Those types of guys are usually easy going in chats and they actually keep the conversation alive and flowing. If given the chance to meet one of them in the future, I’m totally up for it and I'm sure it’s going to expand my friendship circle.

*I unmatched already so I cannot retrieve the convo from Tinder. We followed each other in Instagram so I had it, instead.

While most guys are friendly and decent, there are those assholes who want nothing but to hook up with girls. I know it’s the modern world where love is scarce and lust is rampant so having awesome sex is like the driving force for some people to date even without the mental and emotional connection to someone. Yes, this generation has gone so low to that level. So yeah, there are those who chat and specifically ask if I’m into hook ups or casual sex or FUBU but the thing is I am not. I know it would make me sound like a boring conservative but I still believe in love and the pure intentions of the soul. I dearly hope that those type of guys will realize that, too instead of just having the cliché mindset that “Boys will be boys.” The thing I hate about these fuckboys is that their hobbies of just fucking anyone available has been becoming a social disease which affects every life that they recklessly touch. I call it the “fuckboy chain reaction theory” which as I see is like a domino effect from engaging in casual sexual exploits. See for example, a fuckboy fucks a random girl and leaves her since it’s rare for that type of social engagement to be emotionally mutual. Then, the girl feels abandoned and desperately starts looking for something that she thinks is lacking in her life just because a random asshole made her feel that way. Next is that she eventually finds a guy that will satisfy what she thinks is lacking in her. Again, it’s rare for that type of social engagement to be mutual so either of them will feel abandoned and start looking again and so on. It becomes a recurring cycle of wrecking different lives in search for that emotional fulfillment from sexual feats. I do hope they find the one already so that the chain link will break. It’s not that I am against premarital sex. Just do it as long as you feel connected – not just physically. Again, some of these horny predators are in Tinder. Swiper, beware.

Most guys in Tinder are friendly and some are just horny assholes. Unfortunately, a few of them are just plainly boring. Late and thoughtless replies. Lame topics. Complete utter nonsense. I know, it’s completely normal to not know what to chat about but isn’t it just about the art of asking questions? Then again, we can’t force them to be someone that they are not so we are just going to leave them as they are. At least they are not those sexual predators, right?

I deleted my account as well as the app at the end of the 48-hour involvement, and left a message to all of those whom I chatted with because I wanted to be courteous and polite and also because I wanted to let them know. The message went like this:

“Hello! I’m uninstalling the app because my 48-hour personal trial is gonna end. Thank you for the time here. I’m gonna write a Tumblr post about 48-hour Tinder journey. Good luck!”

Tinder is not a bad place to be when you want to virtually meet people nearby. You just have to have the ability to discern people in swiping without initially meeting them. Also, be careful of catfishers and posers. If you get lucky, maybe you’ll find your one true match in this app. Some people actually got married after finding someone in Tinder. How cool is that? I’d rate the app 3 out of 5 stars since it has its pros and cons in terms of connecting with people. I wouldn’t recommend it as the main tool that you have to use for meeting people but it will certainly help you feel less lonely on your days of solitude. Happy swiping!

#tinder #social #social envounter #dating app #online dating #48 #48 hours

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bts-love-sweat-tears · 8 years ago

Text

(Ice) Princess, Part 4

Title: (Ice) Princess, Part 4.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Type: Fluff, minimal angst

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2,277

Links to: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A/N: Hope you all have been well! Sorry I’ve been a bit less active this week- I was traveling for the long holiday weekend here in the U.S. I’m expecting to write one more installment of Ice Princess, but fear not! I have a couple of other fics in the works, including a Yoongi fluff I’ve started, and a Memekook story (already written) that I’m not sure what to do with. Why does he have to be like that?!? I also have notes and brainstorms for a Jimin gang!au fluff/comedy (gang fluff? not sure how this will work) so that’s further down the road. Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy Ice Princess Part 4, and as always let me know if you have comments, feedback or just want to chat ❤️. I know literally nothing about farming, so hopefully my untruths aren’t too jarring 🐴🐮🐷

A/N Note 2: It’s 1AM but I wanted to post. I will update with edits as needed. Sorry in advance for any mistakes- I wanted to be on schedule for all of you lovelies!

It was your second full day of the week in Daegu, and if the producers had been planning for drama or to make you a caricature of a city slicker, well, then they were going to be sorely disappointed. The “rise with the sun and set with the sun” mentality of the farm was nothing compared grueling schedule that you had been keeping for the company forever. And while it was true that you weren’t the strongest physically, having been at a desk most of your life, your work ethic made up for the lack of upper body strength. Working on the farm was practically a vacation compared to your days at home. The first day had been the camera crews filming scenery shots, basic introductions, and generally just getting settled in. Tae also gave you a tour of the city proper of Daegu, the camera crews of course zooming in anytime his hand rested on your shoulder or he leaned in closer than was strictly necessary to “whisper” some little known fact in your ear. You felt yourself warming to him once again (honestly, it was impossible not to), while berating yourself internally. You didn’t want to “be fooled twice” as the saying went, but you also couldn’t fully deny the spark of hope that you two could be friends (or maybe more).

Whatever your complicated feelings were toward Tae, his family was nothing but hospitable and kind. While it was true that their family was a bit more traditional, they treated you like a daughter and welcomed you with open arms. Luckily, you had refined your etiquette from years of business meetings, and meeting his parents went off without a hitch. They knew it was for a show, and were perplexed by the ever-present cameras, but it didn’t change the welcome that you had received. His mother kept offering you more food, and his father kept telling cheesy jokes and reminiscing about Tae as a baby. You could see so much of Tae in each of them-it was clear that he had absorbed so much of each of their personalities and loved them dearly. For their part, they were overjoyed to see Tae, and kept asking him questions about his life there-whether the other members were treating him well, how they were all doing, whether he was eating enough. You were happy to sit back and just watch their interactions. Even though your family had come from a different background, his family reminded you so much of yours that you felt momentarily homesick. It was true that you were gone most of the day for filming or work, but you were always home at night. You couldn’t even remember the last time you traveled without them.

Those feelings passed and you were brought back to the present by one of Tae’s many small cousins. You were still learning all of their names, but this cousin in particular you remembered. Jeong Hwan, or Jeong Hwannie, as you were already calling him. He was a spitting image of the picture of baby Tae his mother had shown you the other day. And somehow more than twice as energetic. His mother, Tae’s mother’s sister, was more than happy to let you take him off her hands in the afternoons, after you had finished your farm “chores.” You doubted his family would have let you do anything, but the producers insisted. Of course.

Jeong Hwan tugged at your leg, playing with the frayed edges of the denim around your kneecap. The four-year old, impatient as ever, began talking at the speed of light. And he hadn’t even had any sugar yet today.

“Noona, what are we going to do today? We could build a fort, or play tag, or go exploring, and then later tonight WE CAN CATCH FIREFLIES!!!! And then you can read me SEVEN (!!!!) bedtime stories,” he said, holding up all ten fingers. “Don’t tell the adults, but secretly we won’t go to bed…” He looked at you, waiting for a scandalized face.

You laughed and scooped him up, nuzzling your nose into his fluffy hair. You weren’t generally this kid-oriented, but Jeong Hwan was just TOO cute. Maybe you hadn’t spent enough time around kids.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you said, as the other cousins ran over. You set him back down, and a game of tag began. You tried to run slowly and tumble around, to give the kids a chance. As you looked over your shoulder to make sure the kids were still following you, you made the mistake of continuing to run forward and barreled straight into Tae. He staggered back from impact, but was able to remain standing, and his hands settled naturally on your hips.

He smirked at you. “Someone should watch where they’re running. You’re setting a bad example for the kiddos,” he joked.

Before you could come up with a witty response, Jeong Hwan was there, coming to your rescue. Oh how you loved that child.

“HYUNG,” he shouted “ARE YOU PLAYING TAG OR NOT? Because if you’re not, Noona is busy,” he said, puffing out his tiny chest authoritatively. Tae laughed at that, and the famous boxy smile made an appearance. Before Jeong Hwan had time to escape, he was experiencing a tickle attack for the ages. Both boys were laughing, and you stood there feeling uncharacteristically warm. The sun must be getting to you, you thought to yourself.

Jeong Hwan managed to escape Tae’s clutches for a brief moment, and both boys took off around the field, with Taehyung animatedly falling further and further behind. Running and smiling with his family, Tae was absolutely ethereal. There was no other way to describe it. It wasn’t a cold perfection, but something earthy and glowing. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, or at least you couldn’t until a cameraman stuck a camera in your face.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He had an inquiring look on his face, but you knew you had not choice but to answer. It was amazing that they had left you alone for that long. You sighed and turned to face him, mask falling back into place.

Later, after tag, building a fort, firefly catching, and, yes, bedtime stories (though it only took two until Jeong Hwan was asleep, much to his mother’s awe and eternal gratitude), you were exhausted, and collapsed into bed. You woke after what felt like minutes, but looked at your clock. 7:30 AM. You couldn’t remember the last time you had slept peacefully through the night. It was Day 3, and you knew that today would be a long day of work. One of the fields needed tilled so the soil could aerate, and the machine was broken, meaning the whole family was going to go out and do it manually. You saw clothes laid out at the foot of your bed. Your routine was much easier, since you were supposed to look “natural” during the Daegu trip, but you still felt it was weird that the producers were coming into your room at night, and laying out clothes. Did they know no boundaries? You pulled on an oversized white t-shirt with not-so-accidental holes, and a pair of light wash jeans with ripped knees again. What exactly did they think you would be doing today?

You walked out to the field where the others were already waiting. The producers had arranged it so that you and Tae would be on a “team” off by yourself. You weren’t sure if they were hoping for a fight or romantic *liaison* but you knew neither would happen. Tae was dead serious and extremely dedicated when it came to the well-being of his family, and you knew that you couldn’t distract him even if you tried. This newfound serious side was something that you found even more attractive-while you were perfectly capable of providing for your family, you admired someone who shared the same goal and who showed it in a tangible way. You sighed, but before long all angsty thoughts left your head as you settled into a companionable silence and routine. An hour passed, and then two.

Tae didn’t look up until he passed you his water bottle. He let you drink first, and then took a long sip himself. Viewers would just love that, an indirect kiss. He paused before taking another sip. As he lowered the bottle, he stared at you some more, and then asked,

“Is there a reason you’re wearing my shirt?”

And here you thought that maybe, just maybe, he had been checking you out.

Rather than rat out the producers, which you knew would get cut anyway, you smiled sweetly, and came up with some lame excuse, which was probably what they wanted. “I didn’t want to get any of my shirts dirty. You should know how hard it is to clean Gucci,” you said tartly.

He gave you a strange look at the dig, and before you could say anymore, you got back to work. One step forward, two steps back. He settled in next to you, a little further away than before. As you both continued to dig, the sun rose higher in the sky, and before you knew it, you were slumped against your shovel/hoe/ or whatever the heck this item was. You had no idea. Before you could fully grasp what was going on, a wave of dizziness hit you and you collapsed into the dirt.

You awoke slowly, realizing that your head was against something soft and fluffy. It was the pillow in your bed. You could feel the cool touch of the sheets against your arms and legs, but your left side was over-warm. A small, muffled voice stopped your movements as you realized there was someone else in the bed with you.

“Noona, you’re too hot! It makes me scared” Jeong Hwan whimpered. You blinked and saw that he was curled up next to you.

“He’s been here the whole time,” a deep voice indicated. “A feat of strength for him,” the voice said, the edge of a laugh making itself known.

You blinked a few times and brought Tae’s face into focus.

“What happened?” you rasped. Your throat felt as dry as sandpaper.

“Too much sun exposure, and possible dehydration. I should have realized that a city slicker like you wouldn’t be able to keep up,” he said, teasing gently.

You rolled your eyes, and coughed a small cough. Before you could even ask, Tae held a glass of ice water to your lips. You took a small sip and laid back down. Your head was still spinning, and the room was tilting at multiple angles all at the same time, somehow.

“You sure know how to work the cameras,” you sighed, too disconcerted to be polite.

A hurt look crossed Tae’s face, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Noona, he locked the door right away! It’s only been me, him, and the family in here since you fell over!” Jeong Hwan shouted. You winced, mostly out of guilt. But also at the tiniest sense of betrayal that Jeong Hwan had taken Tae’s side.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t have assumed. You’re just always so perfect and know what to say.”

That earned you the box smile. “You think I’m perfect? It must be more serious than I thought-you’re having delusions,” he joked.

“Maybe. It feels seriously delusional. I wanted to hate you ever since I took the fall for you six months ago, but it seems that I can’t.”

“What do you mean? I avoided you, thinking that it would eventually die down, but when I came back from tour it had been so long, and you had become some kind of cool, untouchable celebrity.”

You snorted at that. So much for the mood. “THE Kim Taehyung of BTS thinks I’m unapproachable? This is an interesting development. Well, while we’re laying it all out there, I didn’t actually want to be a celebrity-it just sort of happened. The reality show was the price I had to pay for covering up the photos, and it ended up just blowing up. Do you really think I wanted to be the Korean version of the Kardashians?”

Tae stared at you, a blank expression on his face. “I thought my company took care of the photos, which was another reason I kept my distance. They were pretty pissed after we got caught that day…. I had no idea.” He looked truly shocked, and your hear clenched at the months of misunderstandings. Why hadn’t you confronted him sooner and hashed it out then? All this time between the two of you, wasted.

Tae leaded over you, his chocolate eyes never wavering from your own. The two of you were cut from the same mold, and you knew that he understood, and appreciated, the sacrifices you had made for his career. Your hands became clammy, and you could feel your pulse everywhere. You knew what was about to happen, and were in denial until the very last second. Six months of missed connections were coming to an end. A millimeter from your face Tae froze.

“EWWWW, HYUNG. THIS IS SO GROSS! DON’T KISS!!!! NOONA, DON’T! I thought you were my girlfriend,” Jeong Hwan whined. Where did he even learn about these things? He was way too precocious for his own good. Both of you cracked up, and you knew the moment had passed. But there would be many more opportunities to come.

#bts #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #bts taehyung #ice princess

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seven-for-president · 8 years ago

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Request? I hope you don't mind, can we do one for the boys and jaehee (duh) Reacting to mc singing in the shower? ps. i love your hcs that i have read. KEEP GOING THEY ARE GREAT!

Of course I don´t mind (*^▽^*) And by the way I think duh is one of the best words ever (*≧▽≦)So here you go (/^▽^)/

_Yoosung_

° most of the time it was really nice living together, but sometime it wasn´t

° you alwys took your showers in the evening too lazy to use a hairdryer

° but as a Student Yoosung was home most of the time

° which meant that you couldn´t work on your singing-carreer under the shower

° yes, he played LOLOL, but without headphones in case you needed him

° buuut MC here, is a sneaky person so what to give him on his birthday?

° right: new headphones

° and these he had to try out immediatlely

° aka, your chance to shower without him listening

° as soon as the hot water started to pour you started singing

° and since you were sure he couldn´t hear you you went full voice with the next song

° resulting in you almost screaming Come as You are by Nirvana

° I love Nirvana XD

° you blended everything out while singing so you almost fell in the shower when you heard clapping from outside

° “MC, that was great, you should keep singing.”

° “Yoosung get the hell out of the bathroom!!”

° why, Yoosung, why?

° dammit, he heard

° now you were too embarassed to step out of the room for the next 20 minutes

° when you finally did you hoped that he wouldn´t speak up to you about it

° but we all know Yoosung….

° “Hey MC, you´re a great singer.Why don´t you try working with Zen on Musicals?”

° “Yoosung, let´s not talk about this again. EVER!”

° “But MC-”

° “EVER!!”

° and he was frightend for life

_Jaehee_ (because duh)

° she was usually working when you took a shower

° well, when wasn´t she working??

° but whatever

° so you could sing to your heart´s desire and as loud as you wanted to

° unfortunately for you, one day Jumin decided to let Jaehee go home earlier

° she wanted to interfer with a cat project again

° but to suprise you she neither called or texted you in advance

° you, knowing nothing of course, went to step into the shower as you always did

° you voice echoed a bit in the room, which you thought was just perfect for singing ballads

° and you often did

° Jaehee opened the front door right as you started with your awesome opera-solo of Bohemian Rhapsody

° the thing is, it was recorded with at least four seperate persons so singing it all by yourself may sounded a little different than the original

° hands up who tries it anyways

° nevertheless personally you thought it sounded great

° but maybe someone didn´t Jaehee

° “MC, would you mind not being that loud and come out of the shower!”

° shit, why is she home already??

° “Okay, I´m comming!”

° you got out of the shower and dried yourself as quick as you could and went in the livingroom to meet Jaehee

° “Hey, you home already?”

° “I am. You know, I don´t mind if you sing in the shower, but please don´t sing Things for four voices. Alone.”

° you kind of understood what she meant …

° but anyways as you understood, you could Keep on singing songs for a single Interpreter

° and of course this wasn´t the last time she caught you singing Bohemian Rhapsody

° but hey, you got better each time

_Zen_

° if there is a king in singing under the shower, it would probably be Zen

° he was loud, but he also sang very well so you didn´t have a problem with it

° so you were a bit embarrased to sing when you knew he could hear it

° you thought your singing skills were pretty ordinary, so that wasn´t the Problem here

° his skills were miles beyond average, meaning compared to him almost everyone was bad

° that´s why you were to shy to sing around him, the fear of disapproval

° so you reduced your singing-time to the moments he was away

° that means Performances, where you didn´t watch in the audience and rehersals

° sounds like a lot of time and let me tell you, you´re right

° it was a happy coexistance between your skills and his

° you were happy, he was unknowing

° so what could possibly go wrong??

° a cancelled rehersal of Course

° you stepped into the shower and felt relaxed the moment the water hit your skin

° in the state of pure happines, you wanted to express this with singing

° so you just did

° you felt free when you sang and let the water wash away all of your thoughts

° but since you tended to be quite….loud while singing you didn´t notice the door opening

° you screamed as the shower curtains opened

° a very naked Zen stepped in to join you

° “Z-Zen, what are you doing her? And why are you in here!”

° “I heard you sing so I wanted to participate too.”

° by now your head was bright red, not only were you naked but he also heard you sing, obviously

° “Still, please get out of here.”

° Zen was probably the only Person who Comes into the shower when there is someone singing

° to say you were embarassed was by far an Understatement

° after that incident he came home early suprisingly often

° and you got afraid of showering and built in a doorlock

° true love

_Jumin_

° oh my god, he had one of a luxury bahroom

° seriously, you wouldn´t have been suprised is there was a Karaoke-System installed

° that would be awesome by the way

° you always took your time showering and enjoyed the Luxus

° one time you even tried to bring Elisabeth too, but cats and water on´t mix that well…

° no, rly MC?

° anyway, having such a nice bath , it would be a waste not singing in there

° it was a natural Thing after all

° maybe there wasn´t a karaoke-system installed, but a sound system wich you could connect with your phone

° so there was always music playing when you used the shower

° sometimes the real thing sometimes Karaoke

° but as much as you loved singing, you also were scarred that Jumin could find out about it

° in School you were bullied because of your voice, although it wasn´t bad

° they were all jelaous

° it resulted in a Trauma of yours, which kicked in whenever you knew someone heard your voice

° Kids in School are the most evil human beings out there..

° one day, you just started your shower-playlist, Jumin came woke up from the nap he took and to his suprise you weren´t where he last saw you

° he panicked

° but Elisabeth was kindly enough to sit ifront of the bathroom and listen to your singing

° aren´t cats great?

° he heard water and was relived you didn´t left him (for what reason whatsoever)

° but then he herd another Sound, it was……singing?

° on second thought it was really beautiful singing

° he recogniced your voiced, but didn´t fel the need to Interrupt you

° you inished your shower and got out of the room, only wearing a twle around your head and one around your chest

° “Jumin, why are you sitting infront of the bathroom?”

° “I heard you singing and before I realiced it I sat down infront of the door and listened.”

° you felt the Panic rush in your head and your vison started to get blurry, follwed by heav breathing

° “MC, is something wrong with you? Aren´t you Feeling well?”

° “I´m fine. I´m just not good with People Hearing me sing.”

° he was worried, so hadn´t any other choice than telling hi the whole Story..

° he was very caring and Held you tight till you felt better

° despite you being still afraid of being heard, those bastards from your old School somehow landed on YouTube, with the most aweful singing-video of all time

_Saeyoung/Seven_

° he was always at home

° so it was hard to get a Moment of peace under the shower

° you also weren´t quite sure he hadn´t put CTV and voice Recorders everywhere in his house

° or worse, someone else put cameras and microphones everywhere in his house

° finally! the day you waited for for sol Long came around

° Seven and Saeran went out Shopping for clothes and ice cream

° and we all know Seven probably takes his sweet time doing so

° that meant you had to use your alone-time in the best way possible

° so it was Netflix and a good Long shower for you

° and yes, in that order

° after some nice movies you turned off the TV and went into the shower

° you turned up the Radio and simply enjoyed the sounds of water and Music

° soon you couldn´t resist anymore and sang along

° the louder the better, right?

° well, your suspection was partly right

° there were Sound Recorders and cameras but they only activated when a certain Level of volume was reached

° apparently you were so loud that you crossed this Level

° so Seven got a message on his phone, informing him that the noise Level in his house was above the line

° he was afraid you fell or somthing broke or worse, there was a robbery

° he didn´t Panic but felt a Little uneasy, so he checked the CCTV

° when he saw you singing under the shower he did two Things

° first: stopping his nosebleed, which was a reaction to your naked Body

° second: turning up the volume so he could hear you sing

° damm, you were good, so good your voice deserved to e on YouTube

° but he couldn´t just put a Video online where you sang naked in the shower

° so he turned on the Speakers and spoke to you

° “Hey Babe! Can you sing again when I´m home so that I can upload itlater?”

° you screamed, loud, very loud

° “Relax MC, I´m speaking through the Speaker up to your right.”

° “What the heck did you think, scarring me like that??!!”

° after all the time living together you weren´t embarassed anymore, far worse happend by now anyway

° you were angry

° when they got home,Saeran hurried in his room as fast as he could

° you decided to have a … talk with Seven

° don´t ask me where you learned that but he ended up tied to a chair infont of an open back of Honey Buddah Chips

° what a torture…., but brilliant

_V_

° since his eyesight was rather bad, but his Hearing was better than anyones

° the TV was always quiet, so was the Radio

° you couldn´t be loud in the house and not even curse without him knowing

° so singing in the shower was off-Limit

° he would hear you and that was embarassing, too embarassing for you

° you were a very sensible Person and not very self-confident to begin with

° it was a nice Change, when V went out with Jumin to an old class-meeting

° do´n´t get me wrong, you loved him dearly and enjoyed every Moment you could spend with him

° but it felt good being able to turn up the volume for once

° you danced through the house and sweated so much you had to take a shower afterwards

° in the shower you didn´t stop being noisy

° you sang all of your favourite Songs again and again

° and probably wasted a lot of water

° nevertheless, even if you didn´t notice, V came back

° you were still in the shower, singing nonstop and very loud

° of Course he heard

° “MC, are you in there?”

° no answer

° “MC, can you hear me!?”

° he screamed, and it suprised you to the Point you fell and landed right on your butt

° gotta love the booty XD

° “V, you´re already back. Sorry if I was to loud.”

° you apologiced but it seemed he wasn´t angry this time

° “MC, I never knew you were such a brilliant singer. from know on, please sing to your hearts desire.”

° this was an offer you just couldn´t refuse

° the house became more lively after that, now filled with the Sound of your voice

_Saeran_

° he was the Queen of grumpy cats

° so on his bad days nothing could satisfy his will

° you got him ice cream, it was the wrong brand

° you made him his favourite Food, unfortunately his diet started today

° you were sick of himbeing like this

° but deep down you knew he couldn´t be blamed for his mood

° to calm down, you went to take a Long shower

° it cleared your head and you felt at ease like this

° soon you started humming some old children-songs and before Long you started singing too

° you didn´t know why it were children-songs, they just popped into your mind

° you dried yourself off and went back to look what Saeran was doing

° when you tried to open the door there was a resistance, preventing you from stepping outside

° “ Saeran, why are you blocking the door?”

° “Keep singing.”

° woah, did he Sound less grumpy than before??

° “Eh.. sure, but could you let me out first?”

° he did and you had to spend the rest of your day singing Songs to Saeran

° a happy ending? maybe for him but not for your voice…

Again, I have to apologize for taking this long. I lost all my editing on the text 3 times already… I think I´m going to try it again later….because itá already 11PM ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ

Anyway, I hope you liked it and it didn´t turn out that badly (*^▽^*)

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messenger v #mystic messenger zen #jumin han #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #seven #yoosung #jaehee kang

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