#but this feeling dug so deeply into myself during my entire teenager time

[dreamyberry]

She knew perfectly well that things like parties and best friends and going to tea with people were fine for everyone else, because everyone else was "inside"--inside some sort of invisible magic circle. But Anna herself was outside. And so these things had nothing to do with her. It was as simple as that.

Joan G. Robinson, When Marnie Was There

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 11: Plummet

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Eleven: Plummet

Note: I loved hearing your comments as always! Glad your all enjoying the fic so far! I think there will probably only be one more chapter of this arc after this. Maybe two. Then we will be returning to the one we were in before this. I need to come up with a name for it. Maybe the Island Arc? No, that’s lame. Give me your ideas lol! And check the endnotes, please. I have something special for you today :D

(-~-)

It felt like a lifetime since the young teenage girl had clambered on board the van, the cramped confines of the interior of the vehicle and the number of strangers she was forced into close contact with only heightening her level of dismay and disillusionment. A thousand and one things were running through her head at every second, dragging the short time that she’d spent in transit to safety into what felt like hours. Never before had she felt so helpless against an opponent who might very well take the life of someone she cared about, not even when her grandparents had fallen dead at her feet. At least she could say that she had tried to save them, bashing one of the strangers who had attacked them in the back with a wooden log that had been laying nearby.

But when V had told her that he wanted her to leave, she had frozen. And in her panic, she had honored his request. That was something that she was going to have to live with for the rest of her life, and something that she didn’t know how she would cope with. There was a certain level of expectation that people had towards the possibility that their family would at least try and protect them, but for a stranger to risk everything time after time to help someone that they had only met that day? Unheard of. Despite her young age, there was a part of her that genuinely wanted to do something about what had occurred that day, a deep, buried part of her crying out for the justice that they both deserve.

“He didn’t even know me, and he still was willing to die to save me. And I just left him behind. What does that say about me?”

Morgan hadn’t noticed that she’d said that out loud until one of the other people in the vehicle with had shaken their head and shrugged nebulously. “Well, if you didn’t know each other, then why are you beating yourself up about it? Why do you care so much?”

The statement was enough in of its self to make her get out of the car and walk the rest of the way. A feeling of profound disgust rose up in the pit of her stomach, the entire van suddenly being far too hot for her liking. If she was willing to guess, and she was, the passenger that had spoken to her just now was far from the type who would have willingly pulled over their car to assist her. And while there was a part of her that understood their viewpoint and the concept of self-preservation at any cost, she couldn’t help but feel abject horror at the thought of being so selfish. But that didn’t mean that she wasn’t smart enough to stay quiet about it lest she risk being kicked to the curb. She didn’t know these people, and she had no idea what they were capable of.

“Ge, I don’t know, because he cares about me, ya know? Because he saved my life more than once today! Because I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him!” Morgan huffed in frustration, trying to hold back the frustrated tears that were trying to escape her eyes. She refused to sit there and cry in a van with a bunch of strangers like a little kid, no matter the context. “You don’t have to know a stranger to help a stranger. He’s proof of that. I mean, if you saw a kid about to get hit by a car, wouldn’t you try and save them?”

The stranger shrugged. “Can’t say that I would. I’m not trying to get hit by a car. I have a family, too. Maybe I’d call the ambulance afterward or something, but I’m not running out into the street for a stranger. It’s not like I don’t care, I just care less about them than I do myself. Nothing wrong with that. And besides, they probably wouldn’t even appreciate what I did for them, knowing my luck. That’s just how it is.”

Morgan sighed sadly. “I don’t need them to feel thankful to know I did something right. I just need to know that I did my best. I can live with that.”

It occurred to her at that moment that maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding what she truly thought as she had thought she was. There was a part of her that was deeply frustrated by the fact that her newfound companion had stayed behind to buy them time, and that some of the people in the car could have such a devil may care attitude about it. “Better him than me” they were probably thinking. And she couldn’t abide by that. As soon as she made it to town, she was going to find the police, and she was going to do her very best to get help for her friend. That was all she could do now, and she knew that regardless of how much she didn’t want to, she was going to have to live with that reality for the rest of her life. 

Deep down she wanted to believe that she had done the right thing, but she couldn’t be sure, and the not knowing about what had become of him was probably the worst part. After all, it would be pitch black outside in a short while. It would be cold and desolate, and he was alone against everyone who was out to get them both. How on earth would he contend with such staggering odds on his own? He didn’t come off to her as the survivalist sort.

What on earth was V going to do now?

(-~-)

Once the unfortunate reality of the situation that he’d gotten himself into truly set in, so did the panic. But thankfully, so did the instinct to turn that insurmountable fear into something that he could use against his opponents. He was moving through quick-drying cement, and he knew it. Now his best course of action was to try his very best to get out of it before he was locked into place and couldn’t escape.

In a strange mixture of initiative and calm, especially given the dire situation that he found himself in, V decided to get to work coming up with a solution. The authorities had already been contacted. Now what he needed to do was make it somewhere somewhat safe and stay out of the realm of detection of his enemies. The fact that they were armed and fully willing to kill him did make that considerably more difficult, but that was just something that he was going to have to deal with accordingly.

“Morgan said that the bag was somewhere over here,” V said quietly under his breath as he dug through the pile of snow nearest to where he and Morgan had fallen down the mountain. Despite the fact that he had literally never been in the town before that day except when he’d passed through to move to Lympha, he understood the layout somewhat. It was a tiny place with mostly log cabins, and the hill that they had come down held a domineering position behind the place. When they had said that they had been living in the shadow of the larger town for as long as they could remember, he had to believe that they meant that literally. And he’d feel bad for them in that respect if they hadn’t just tried to kill him.

What kind of desperation and madness drew people to commit the kinds of acts that these people had decided to commit? He hoped that he would never understand. He didn’t want to. That would mean that at least once he would have to stand in their shoes and think as they did. V liked to think that he had more dignity and self-respect than to lower himself to that kind of level. He liked to think that he would never do something like what they had done, and although he was nearly certain that he wouldn’t, he had never been put in such a situation. But at the very least, he wouldn’t have done so willingly, and he would have done so as a last resort. From what he could tell, they had been more than happy to go along with the demands of their adversaries for whatever reason.

To his satisfaction and relief, a moment later, V located the bag that he’d brought with them and sifted through it. There would be a time and a place to bring it back with him, but this wasn’t it. At this point, it would only serve to slow him down. No, he would leave it there, hidden in the snow until he returned. But he was going to bring one thing that he’d seen Morgan slip into the bag during their trip.

It seemed that the knife might be a good idea after all. 

He hoped that he would get the opportunity to tell Morgan that.

As soon as he rounded the corner and stepped into the middle of the intersection again, an all too familiar vehicle rounded the corner from the top of the hill and came barreling at him. It was the truck that they had escaped earlier. The instant they saw him, the driver floored the gas, barreling at him at top speed. From what he could tell, they were planning to hit him, apparently so angry that he had managed to escape that they were fully ready to just kill him and be over and done with the entire situation. Things had just escalated to a degree that he hadn’t expected them to.

With a level of reaction time that he didn’t know he possessed, V dived across the street into the snow and out of the reach of the truck, the old vehicle hitting the breaks a few seconds after passing him, but sliding on the ice instead. The sheer momentum caused by the speed that they were going send them sliding sideways at a dangerous speed, the truck flipping onto its side and rolling before making impact with one of the buildings nearest to the road. From what he could tell, it was a bar of some sort.

Shards of wood rained down and the truck tore a massive hole through the side of the well-worn building, eliciting shouts and curses from its passengers. One could only hope that the building was empty at that moment, but he couldn’t’ find the mental energy to care that much. He was torn between waiting to see if they were still alive and running for his life, the logical center of his brain not so subtly reminding him of the fact that the men in the truck were not the only ones hunting him down.

Just then, one of the doors to another building close to them popped open, a hooded head sticking out followed by two others. While the first two ran over to the truck and attempted to force the truck doors open on the side that was still accessable, the other taller individual looked directly at him. For a moment, they stared at one another, V’s breath coming slowly as it threatened to catch in his throat. The only sound he heard was the dull doubled up rhythm of his heart beating in his chest as he stared down a man that he knew without question or hesitation wanted to end his life. And despite the fact that he couldn’t make out the individual’s face, he could see their eyes.

And he could feel their hate.

In a strange turn of events, they both acted at the same time. It was as if they were both on a starting line and the gun that signaled the start of the race had been fired, sending them both into a flurry of activity. Without much thought as to where he would land, V instantaneously overcame his fear of heights for a moment and tossed himself down the snow-covered hill, knowing somehow deep down that he could roll down the hill much faster than he could run down it. After all, he had done so earlier that day. It would put much-needed distance between him and his pursuers, even if his sore cut and bruise covered body didn’t exactly appreciate it at that moment.

Enough adrenaline to kill a humpback whale flooded his bloodstream as he clambered to his feet at the bottom of the hill, his heart hammering in his chest as he rushed forwards towards nothing in particular, hoping that he would be fast enough to make his escape. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that the mysterious man had yet to even reach the edge of the ridge, a strange and intriguing thing coming to mind as he considered the fact that he had covered much more distance in that short time than he ever had. V decided to simply pin it on the fact that he was most likely running faster than he ever had in his life, but the distance still seemed impossible to him. He had cleared at least three hundred yards in the time that it took him to register that he’d managed to get up and keep going, and he wasn’t going to complain.

Maybe greater speed and perseverance were granted to those in pearl, much like those in dire straits were sometimes able to lift egregious amounts of weight in order to save those that they loved. That was the only thing that he could think of. After all, he’d been athletic, but not in that kind of way. The only thing that years of ballet had probably imparted on him that would be helpful at this moment was endurance and balance. The ability to push himself to keep going beyond exhaustion, reason, and rationality was something that he’d always had to some degree, his mind working in microcosmos. If he looked at the entire situation as a whole while he was still in it, then he would more than likely falter due to the sheer magnitude of the existential horror that he’d find himself within the grips of. And in a situation like this, there was no time for that sort of thing. No time for anything aside from clear and decisive action at all costs. That was the only way that he was going to survive this.

Bruises would heal. Cuts would heal. His burning lungs and aching bones and feet and legs would be able to rest and he would recover. But he had to make it through this first. That kind of single-minded focus was the only thing that would keep him alive in this kind of situation. Whatever gods there were only knew that it sure as hell wouldn’t be his combat prowess. That was nonexistent, to say the least. No. He would run and run and run until he either escaped or dropped dead trying. Then their intentions for him wouldn’t matter in the slightest.

No, if they wanted him, they would have to kill him first. That was all there was to it. He utterly refused to go quietly. He would go kicking and screaming and hopefully take them with him. Because as full of pain and suffering and misery as his young life had been, he wasn’t willing to take his with the same level of silent acceptance that he had taken every other injustice that he’d been forced to deal with thus far. He’d been a child, incapable of doing anything meaningful about his situation then. There had been no recourse to try and alter his position. But he wasn’t a child anymore. He might barely be an adult, but that didn’t change anything as far as he was concerned.

V had no idea how long he had been running. Time was irrelevant to him at the point. He was beyond exhausted and cold and tired and hurt and all he wanted to do was stop. But if he stopped, then he was dead. The snow stung then he inhaled it, and his eyes burned as he tried to blink away the burning sensation that came from the bitter winter’s air. It was dark now, and he was certain that they were closing in on him. He had to be slowing down. There was no way that he had been able to upkeep that kind of relentless speed. But a quick glance over his shoulder told him that that wasn’t the case. His pursuers were barely visible behind him, meer black dots in a sea of white. And yet, somehow that only made him want to run faster. He was certain that he probably could if he wasn’t dredging through at least two feet of powdery snow.

And then he heard the crack followed by the echo, and dread hit him.

It didn’t take much to be able to tell that he had just been fired upon. He wasn’t that dense. The distinct crack of a rifle was something that he had heard many times before. The locals used them frequently to keep whatever came from the forest at bay. That and fire seemed to be the only things that warded of their fears. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d had to worry about little things like that. What a shame that it had come to this. Things had been so quiet once, even when they weren’t. And now he could never go back to that.

The open nature of the sprawling space that he found himself within meant that he had little in the way of cover. Running side to side was an obvious choice, but it caused extra leg work that he didn’t have time for. Maybe he could get lucky and they would just hit one of their own. But as he continued forward, the dull thud of something hitting him from behind took him off guard, tripping him up for a moment and nearly causing him to fall over. V inhaled sharply, mind discomfort numbed by the freezing air and the blinding snowy wind. He had no idea what to make of his situation, but he knew that it probably wasn’t good, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop to see how bad he was hurt. No, he would just tell himself that it was a simple graze and keep going. That was all he could do, and at least it didn’t hurt yet.

In a sudden and unwelcome turn of events, he happened through a small smattering of half-dead trees, the thin spindly branches serving as nothing but a barrier when he needed it least. As he passed through them, he suddenly found himself stuck, his coat having become snagged on one of the branches. As he attempted to pull free, he remembered his knife, pulling it from his coat pocket with what little mobility he could muster before attempting to use it to cut himself free. To his shock and dismay, the black-hooded man had finally caught up with him. Although the others were nearly a mile off in the distance, he knew that this wasn’t good. But at least they were on somewhat equal standing.

“You put up quite the chase, but you should have saved your strength. We need it for what is to come.” The hooded man reached out towards him, gripping the space between his neck and his shoulder. “Now stop. Were running late, and we are not the sort to be kept waiting.”

As if from nowhere, a second wave of energy hit him and he pulled away as hard as he could, crying out in fear. No, he would not go with him. Absolutely not. As if his hand were guided by a secondary source, he plunged the blade forward, catching his opponent dead center across part of their face. The blade hit against the tree behind him, snapping like a cheap lock as it embedded itself deep into the wood, nicking V’s hand in the process. The young white-haired man simply shrugged off his jacket at that point and ran, unwilling to try any longer to pull himself free. His momentum would hopefully be enough to stave off hypothermia. Anything was better than allowing this man another chance to take his life. As the man screamed and gripped his face, doubling over in the snow in pain, V gathered what remaining strength he had left and bolted forward into the unknown. 

From what he could tell, there was a ridge up ahead. He could hear the sound of rushing water, something that he hadn’t noticed before in his haste to escape. There were several things that he hadn’t noticed, like the fall leaves mixed in with the snow and the tall trees that bordered him on either side. This would be beautiful if not for the circumstances surround them. Another sort of terror gripped him as he tried to remain calm, his composure slipping. This was all too much at once. How on earth had he ended up in such a dire situation? There was no way that he could escape with rushing water in his path. A waterfall could be the end of him. Had he come this far just to drown at the very end in the freezing water? Was that all he could hope for? A better worse end?

The air held its chill in silent occupation as the light breeze kissed the powdered snow below his feet. Between his eyes, his hair stuck to his face. How uncharacteristic of him to sweat in the snow, especially with no jacket. The tall cypress trees proved to be a lively contrast to the towering evergreens that the shared space with, gently scattering leaves in every direction. They had been falling, much as he would be soon enough. It would either be here or at the hands of his pursuers.

During the time preceding this waking nightmare, everything had been silent. Simplicity and serenity had been all that he had sought out in this place in the first place, and much to his elation, he'd found it. But after a brief honeymoon period during which he'd grown quite fond of this little hamlet, everything had come crashing down around him like it always did. In the place of silence, there had been a sudden rush of sound. He hadn't been able to hear it from where he'd been, but he had seen it, and the growing guilt that he now felt as he stood at the precipice of his likely demise consumed everything inside him. He had been spared their fates only to meet his at the bottom of the rocks.

He told himself that it was thin ice. It was rushing water, after all. Somewhere beneath the surface was a small glimmer of hope that perhaps if he only dared to take the plunge he would have his liberation. He had to for the rest of them. After all, that was why he was standing there in the first place. Their sacrifice had been profound and selfless, and now he had a responsibility as the only one left to bring justice to those who had paved the path before him with their very blood.

With a last tentative breath, he glanced back fearfully, and then felt air rush past him. His descent had begun. As he approached the glowing white below him, everything went black. He hoped for the chance to open his eyes just one last time. He’d promised Morgan as much. But as his feet broke through the ice and a rush of blisteringly cold water engulfed him knocking every last ounce of air from his lungs, he was granted just enough time to wonder if he would ever get a chance to fulfill that promise before he lost consciousness.

(-~-)

Well, at least this is a prequel! I’m sure V will be alright *cries*. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! See you all next week and in the comments where I’m happy to answer any questions you might have! Also, I’ve decided to do something fun to lighten the mood and because I love interacting with you all: A STORY IDEA SUBMISSION FORM!

I’ve gotten so many cool ideas for side stories for Saudade from you guys that I’ve started to lose count! Feel free to go to the link below and add your suggestions. If I can find a way to fit them in, then I’ll be happy to do so! Also, they don’t have to be for that story. I’m still planning to go through the comments and see if I can find most of the requests, but if you’ve made one before, I’d love it if you added it here so I can find it easier. You can also put your username if you’d like so that I know who to gift/credit it to, but that’s up to you! Please check it out. It lakes about 2 minutes and only has like 5 questions. Thanks, everyone!

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1qCTCUvavsjnrOsnpWG_tahlX4FOZtDsR5p_q213FQ7o/edit?usp=sharing

[eisraship]

Just some Eisra angst I felt like diving into because it’s 5am and I can’t sleep

Asra made his way back to Vesuvia for the first time in quite awhile. Arriving at the shop where he lived with his beloved Eira, he took a deep breath before opening the door with slight hesitation. He was excited to see her again, that was a fact, however they hadn’t been on the best of terms when he had left in the first place...

“Eira? Uh, I’m home,” he called out in the empty shop. After a few moments of silence, he softly sighed. “Eira, I know you’re probably still mad at me, and I don’t blame you, but can we just try to talk it out? Please? There’s something I need to tell you...”

Again, he was met with only silence. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he walked up the stairs to the room they often shared, but he was met with a half-made bed in an empty bedroom. Embarrassment burned at his cheeks as he realized he had been apologizing to an empty shop this entire time.

“Maybe she’s just gone to the market,” he told both himself and his familiar. “We’ll wait here for her.”

An hour passed.

Then two.

It was nearly three hours past when he has begun waiting and he was starting to worry. Actually, he had been worried ever since he had left her behind, but this was different. This didn’t feel right. He knew she had stayed in Vesuvia to help find a cure for the plague, but her work wouldn’t take all day... would it?

Deciding to investigate while he waited for her, he went to the market to speak with the person he knew could tell him where she was - Selasi. The baker greeted him with as broad of a smile someone in the midst of a plague could give.

“Asra! You’ve returned,” he said with both joy and concern. “What brought you back?”

“Well,” Asra hesitated at first and then promptly spilled all the details to Selasi, telling him about his inner turmoil, his missing Eira, everything. He had trusted Selasi with a lot in the past, so why not this? “Speaking of Eira... any idea where she is?” he asked hopefully.

Selasi’s usually cheerful expression saddened. “You haven’t heard? They took Eira to the Lazaret.”

“They what???”Asra’s heart began to pang with worry. He pressed Selasi for more information, silently praying that it wasn’t what it sounded like but unfortunately, that was all the baker could tell him.

With this troubling information stuck in his mind, he dropped Faust off at the shop, then rushed to the docks and set out for the Lazaret. The closer he got to the island, the further his heart sank.

Maybe she’s just positioned at the hospital there, he thought as he tried to calm his fears. I’m probably worrying about nothing.

As soon as his boat hit the shore, he vaulted out of it and began looking for her. The island was bigger than he had expected it to be while standing on it. It wasn’t a small island by any means - it was hard to miss while looking from the docks of Vesuvia in daylight, but the size was still surprising. Perhaps it would take longer to find her than he had originally thought.

The white haired magician searched for about fifteen minutes before remembering the compass that was in his satchel. Ilya had always thought it was broken since it didn’t point North, but in truth, it was magical and could lead you to wherever and whatever your heart desired. His heart had always desired Eira, though, which could confuse directions in some situations.

No sooner had he pulled out the compass than the needle swirled before setting itself on a target - Eira.

He ran in the direction it was leading him, running around trees and through shrubbery that was in his way. He ran and ran until he could feel he was close, then looked around at where the compass had wanted him to stop. Nothing. Nothing at all. No people, no buildings, nothing.

“Eira?” he called out, hoping she was close enough to hear. “EIRA?”

Asra sat down in the sand and tossed the compass onto the ground with a huff. He then fished a small, shiny object out of his pocket; a dainty ring that he had gotten for her during one of his adventures.

“Where are you?” he ran a frustrated hand through his curly, white hair and glanced back at the compass.

His frustration turned to curiosity when the compass needle shifted to point at a specific spot in the sand. To confirm this, he moved the compass around to see if it would maintain this destination, and it did.

He felt as if he had been punched in the gut as he realized what this meant. Eira, the girl he loved, the girl he had longed to wake up next to ever since he had left, the girl he wanted to someday start a family with, was dead.

“No,” he breathed. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Eira. This can’t be true. This can’t be true.”

He began to dig at the spot with his bare hands, frantically, brokenheartedly. As his eyes began to fill with tears, he dug. As those tears began to fall, he dug. Even as his hands began to bleed, he still dug. 

And then he found them.

Eira’s bones.

A choked sob escaped him as he gingerly picked up her skull and looked at it through the blur of tears. He didn’t even have to wonder if it was truly her. The whisper of her magic that radiated from it was proof enough.

He rested his forehead against it and closed his eyes. “Eira, I... I’m so sorry,” was all he managed to say before he began sobbing; his heart thoroughly shattered.

All this time that he had been away, he had thought of her. He had thought of her emerald eyes that sparkled at the mention of adventure, of her contagious laugh, of the taste of her lips that time they had kissed when they were teenagers, of the way she would hum to herself as she cooked. He had thought of everything that made her her. Everything he loved about her. It was what brought him back in the first place.

When he was finally able to pull himself together, or at least to the best of his ability, he gathered what bones of hers he had found and placed them into his satchel.

She wouldn’t want to be buried on this god-forsaken island, he knew. And with a heavy, broken heart, he made his way back to Vesuvia.

Eira? Faust inquired when he entered the shop again.

“She’s... she’s not coming tonight, Faust,” he wearily replied. “It’s just the two of us.”

The once excited snake slithered over an gave him an affectionate squeeze, realizing he needed a hug. When not even a Faust squeeze got a smile out of the magician, she looked around for something that could. That was when she found a note that had been left, the handwriting undoubtedly Eira’s. She knew Eira always made him happy, so she brought it over to Asra and set it in front of him with a happy wag of her tail.

Eira!

Asra cautiously picked up the tear-stained paper, mentally preparing himself for whatever could be in the note. Then, he began to read:

“Asra, Please hate me. I desperately hope you do, as it would be make this easy for you. Assuming you’re going to return one day, I decided to leave this. An explanation, a confession, and a goodbye. First, my explanation. I couldn’t leave with you, not only because I didn’t want to leave the people of Vesuvia, but also because I was beginning to catch the plague myself. I couldn’t let you get it, too, so I tried to get you to leave. It hurt to say the things I did to you, but as long as they got you away from Vesuvia, and away from me, I told myself they were justified. I hope when you read this that the plague is no more, a cure has been found, and our loved ones are safe. Now, my confession. I could never tell you, especially not while I was trying to make you hate me enough to leave, but Asra, I love you. Deeply, truly, desperately. I have for a long time. I just never wanted to risk losing you because of my feelings, so I kept them to myself. I know we’ve kissed before and such, but we were kids, and it was never really brought back up, so I thought you wanted to forget it happened. I’m sorry I love you. I’m sorry for not telling you when I had the chance. I’m sorry for everything I said when we argued. I’m sorry for leaving you. This is why I ask that you hate me. Hating me will make it so much easier on you. Please curse my name. Please regret ever meeting me. Please don’t miss me. Please, Asra. My heart is forever yours, but please throw it away. It’s for your own benefit that you do. Please take care of yourself. I’m not there to, so it’s up to you. I miss you, I love you, and I desperately hope you can’t say the same for me. Forever yours, Eira.”

Tears fell onto the paper as he finished reading and he quickly buried his face in his hands so as not to ruin the writing further. He had messed up royally enough already; he couldn’t mess up her last words to him, too. Before Faust could ask, he rushed up to the bedroom and closed the door. He sank to the floor and he let himself fall apart as thoughts and regrets screamed at him in his mind.

If I had just stayed, I could’ve gotten the plague, too. I could be with her right now. She was just trying to help people and she died alone, probably scared, and hurting. She needed me and I wasn’t here. I left her. And the last thing we ever did was say horrible words we didn’t mean. This is my fault. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. Eira, please forgive me. I love you, too.

He awoke the next morning still on the bedroom floor, as disheveled as someone who had lost everything all at once. Miserably, he got up onto his feet and made his way downstairs. He picked up the sleeping Faust, pulled on his hat and cloak, and set off towards the palace. He needed to have a few words with a certain plague doctor, if he could even still be called that.

[girlinthepictureframe]

The Briefest Kiss Part 10

New Year's Eve

“He knows how to play the acoustic,” explained Alex, still laughing, “but he doesn't know a thing about modified electrics. Broke the damn thing off. He looked so guilty and lost, I actually felt bad for him. Got him an old electric of mine, told him to practice until I get back. He'll get there.”

Miles, who sat a few seats down the bar, was able to hear Alex tell the story and smiled to himself. How he would have loved to have seen it. Alex's father was a very talented musician, he played a bunch of instruments, but it was only in recent years that he had discovered his interest in rocking out on guitars. He'd jammed quite a few times with him and Alex during their last tour. Miles lifted his eyes, carefully sneaking a glance at Alex, only to have him glance back. Miles quickly adverted his eyes, feeling stupid and caught. A ridiculous thought. But it was there nonetheless.

Why did Alex have to show up tonight? Miles began bouncing his leg, a nervous gesture. For the first time in a long while Miles was having somewhat of a good time, surrounded by friends and old acquaintances. They had chatted, caught up, laughed, until, about an hour ago, Alex had walked in. Everyone else was still having a good time. Only his good mood had withered immediately.

Well, to be perfectly honest, he hadn't been in thatgood of a mood to begin with. It was New Year's Eve and here he was, three months after his kind-of break-up with Alex, still trying to figure out where to go from there. For the entire day the thought of not spending the night with Alex had weighed down on him. Then he'd told himself to bloody get a grip and get it together. So he'd tried to get it together, to not think of Alex, and to distract himself. Naturally, Alex had used that moment to reenter Miles' life.

Fucker loved a good entrance.

Miles had been so shocked by the sight of his old friend that he had only been able to mumble a weird, incoherent welcome which had included the words 'hi', 'um', and 'hello'. Not his brightest moment! Then Alex had given him the tiniest, most timid smile and a carefully spoken 'hello'. It was the first time he'd ever heard anyone say anything in a careful manner, but truly, there was no other way to describe it.

Overwhelmed and unsure how to react, Miles had wordlessly walked away, taken a seat at the bar and not moved from there since. Ten minutes later, Alex had taken a seat as well. Two chairs down to the right. And when Miles began to believe that the night couldn't possible get anymore awkward, Al's girlfriend had walked in and straight up planted herself on Al's lap.

'That's my spot,' Miles' increasingly drunk and startlingly jealous mind had chimed in and almost as if Alex had heard it, he'd had given her a nudge and let her know to find a chair instead. Miles' mind had responded a snarky 'thank you!' Ever since then he and his mind were pondering his next moves. Should he remain at the bar? Should he head out to the balcony? Or, better yet, just go home? Maybe he should just call it a night and—

“Hey, Miles.”

He and his mind should have paid more attention, apparently! Neither one had noticed Alex taking a seat next to him. Miles took a large swig from his drink and swallowed hard. “Alex.”

“Are you enjoying your night?”

As Miles pondered his response, he allowed his sight to linger on Alex. He looked vulnerable and afraid, almost scared. It was hard to see his friend like that. His former friend. He didn't want things to be awkward between them. Maybe they didn't know how to be the friends they used to be at the moment, but did that necessarily imply that they couldn't act 'normal' around each other? They didn't need to hug or whisper or talk about their shared history, but couldn't they have a neutral conversation? Apparently not, Miles realized, as he attempted to answer Alex's very simple question. “I was. I am, I mean. I believe. What I'm trying to say is...oh bloody hell!” Miles grabbed the drink in front of him, finished it off and turned to Alex. “Fuck this! Care for a smoke?”

Alex looked as though Miles had made him the world's greatest gift. “God, yes!”

Both made their way out to the balcony. It was almost empty. A few people were hovering near the wall, but it was an icy cold winter night and people weren't dressed for the weather. Miles didn't care. The cold soothed him, helped him get keep his head clear. And he knew Alex felt the same.

“It's weird,” said Miles, trying to explain his set of mind. “Seeing you here, after all this time. For a moment I wished you hadn't shown up. At the same time, though, I'm glad that you did. I just don't know how to talk to you.”

“Me neither,” admitted Alex, shyly. “I hadn't planned on coming here. I was sitting in my apartment the whole day, deciding for and against coming here. But we always spend this night together. And I thought, if I don't show up, what if that's another nail in the coffin of our friendship?”

“Does it have a coffin yet?” Miles snuck a worried glance at Alex.

“You tell me.” He lit the cigarette for which they had come for. As did Miles. “I still don't have the words you deserve to hear. I've written countless letters to you. They're sitting in shelves all over the world. I was in LA and remembered our time making our album. And I tried writing to you about that. In France I recalled our night at the lake. How simple it was for us to shrug off what had happened that night. How we didn't move on from that, because we never needed to move on. We were just okay with it all. In London I went to visit the club where we first met. Remember the one? There's a picture of us which the owners hung up near the bathrooms. I had never noticed before. A few days ago I was in Sheffield and wrote to you about how much I miss you.”

Miles wished he'd gotten the letters, wished that he knew every single word Alex had written down. “Why haven't you sent any of 'em, Al?”

“I let my heart write those letters, Mi. They're too honest. At times, they're even too honest for myself.”

Miles wanted to tell him that there could never be too much truth between. But that was a lie. He remembered his own omissions of honesty. And he knew there were things he was keeping from Alex. Feelings. Desires. Fears. Truths. If Miles allowed his heart to take the reigns, he'd be having his way with Alex right here, right now, consequences be damned. If he allowed his mind to lead, he'd never touch Alex again out of fear for even the smallest repercussions. “What if we never find the right words, Al? What if we don't find a way out of this hole that we've dug?”

“We will, Miles.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Cause I bloody fucking miss you.”

Miles closed his eyes, took a deep breath and clutched the wrought iron rail of the balcony they were standing on. It took all that he had inside of him not to grab Alex and haul him in for a tight hug and God knows what else. How was it possible to long so deeply, so overwhelmingly, for another person? How was it possible to need somebody so desperately? Not just in a physical manner, but also emotionally?

“It's almost midnight,” Alex pointed out.

Miles kept his eyes close, but nodded into the night. Their time was up. “We should go back inside.”

“Yes.” He let go of the rail, met Alex's eyes briefly, then followed him back towards the bar. Alex returned to his chair next to Louise, and Miles took his old seat two chairs away from him. Other people began to gather around the bar. Not long and the countdown began. Seconds ticked down. Fireworks could be heard through the open windows. Miles saw Louise giving Alex a kiss and quickly looked away.

'Happy New Year,” his bored and lonely mind chimed in. “And if he were mine, better fucking believe he would be grasping for air right now.”

Valentine's Day

“Dear Friend, I know this day is meant for lovers, but I consider us lovers of a different kind. We share a mind. May these flowers find you well. Love, Alexa.”

Miles chuckled as he read the card. Hers, as always, was much classier than the one he'd sent her. His was the humorous kind. Instead of flowers, he'd gotten her a selection of sweets, which he knew she loved.

“A girlfriend?” Pauline, his mother, smiled cheekily as she made her way towards her dining room table upon which Miles had placed the flowers. “Do I know her?”

“A friend. And yes, you do. It's Alexa.”

“Oh, how disappointing. Well, not that, but here I had hoped you would found yourself a date for tonight.”

“Mother,” said Miles, giving her a tone of complete annoyance and utter disapproval, a tone he had perfected when he'd been a teenager. A tone that expressed his displeasure at the idea of his mother being noisy, a tone that professed gratitude for her general interest in his life but at the same time conveyed a warning not to show too much interest for she may not like what she'd find. A tone that said, 'mother, I love you dearly, but please, bugger off.'

Pauline understood it perfectly. “Here's your mail, sweetheart.”

Miles quickly flipped through the letters that had arrived for him since the last time he'd been here. Even though his official address had him residing in London, some wayward correspondence still made its way to his hometown. But between the occasional fan letter, some ads and a bunch of invitations, the stack of mail held not what Miles was hoping for ever since Alex had told him about his letter-writing habit.

He sat down, pushed the mail away, and returned to the emails he was catching up on.

“Oh, for heaven's sake. That's it,” said his mother, took the iPad away from him and sat down. “I've had it with you, son. Tell me what's going on or I will call Alex and make him tell me! You know I will!”

Miles's eyes went wide. “Say what now?”

“The Miles that I remember wasn't so gloomy and sad all the time. I admit I don't see you as often as I used to, anymore. Touring and all that – don't get me wrong, I'm quite happy for you and very proud! But you used to come here, happy and carefree. Now you spend your free time staring out the window as though you're waiting for Christ's return!”

He scoffed. “That's not what I'm doing, mom.”

“I know that. But it sure looks like it. And I'm telling you, that's enough. I mean it. Tell me what's causing you sorrow!”

He gave her a reluctant look, but, maybe she was right. Maybe it was time he spilled his heart to somebody? Maybe it was time for a different perspective? And his mother would offer a solution, of that he had no doubt. It was the part before that, the admitting-to-what-he-had-done, which was troubling him. “What if you don't like what I'm about to tell you?”

“Miles, you quit school and told me you wanted to become a rockstar when you were a teenager. I honestly don't believe it can be worse than that!”

He couldn't help but smile. “Love you, mom. But this one's a bit of a different problem.”

“Miles,” she warned.

And he understood perfectly. “Alright.” For a moment he considered his words. He sat up a bit straighter, attempted to appear not quite as lost as he felt, and began. “There's this person.” For now he went with vague descriptions. He wasn't yet sure just how much he was willing to share. “This person and I...we've known each other for a long while now an—”

“So this is about Alex,” concluded Pauline.

“No,” said Miles. “I didn't say that!”

“That boy used to come here as often as you did. Now it's been over a year since he last placed his muddy boots on my perfectly clean carpet. And even when he was here, the last few times, things weren't as they used to. The both of you used to be glued to the hip together. I swear, last time I saw you two, you religiously avoided touching each other! Start again, dear. And don't be shy with the details! Come now, what happened? Did you fall for the same girl?”

Involuntary laughter escaped him. “Oh, if only.” Seeing the wish to help on his mother's face made him falter and relent. “We had sex,” Miles blurted out.

“You and the girl?”

“No, mom. Me and Alex.”

“And?”

Had she understood what he had just admitted to? “Me and Alex, mom. There's no girl involved. Alex Turner and I, we had sex. With each other.”

“I got that part,” she dryly let him know. “I'm not stupid. I know what sex is. Was is bad? Is that what happened? I presume he was the first man you spent a night with? I've never seen you show any sort of romantic interest for any other man. So if this was the first time, maybe the two of you didn't do it right?”

He wanted to say something, but for the life of all that was holy to him, he couldn't form a single sentence. He had just told his mother that her supposedly straight son had slept with his male best friend. Instead of asking what he assumed was the world's most obvious question, she was worried that they had struggled with the mere mechanics of it? “That's...we...uh—”

“Words, dear. Use them. I can't yet read your mind.”

Miles shook his head in disbelief. “It wasn't bad, mom. That's not the issue. It was quite the opposite, to be perfectly honest. If anything, that's the issue! No, it's...the issue is that I've...” The words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to tell her, but that meant saying them out loud. Which, in return, made all of it that much more real and tragic. And once they were out in the open, he could never unsay them. They became a fact. Undeniable. But when she reached for his hand, he closed his eyes. And gave up. “I'm in love with him. Imagine that, mom. I've fallen hopelessly in love with my best friend. Now what?”

“Now you let me hug you,” said Pauline, got up, pulled Miles out if his chair and squeezed him tightly against her.

He loved her more than ever in this moment. She was his rock, his unshakable foundation.

She pecked his forehead, smiled warmly at him and sat back down. “Now tell me about that night and why the two of you are no longer speaking.”

“Because he's not in love with me,” said Miles and shrugged, helpless and out of answers. “Not even a little bit.” And it sucked, be to honest. “But that's okay. I can handle that. I'm trying to figure out how to handle it,” he admitted. “Alex – you know him, mom. He's bad when you confront him about his feelings. What we did, it freaked him out. He couldn't even stay around to look at me afterwards. And now he won't talk to me. All he says is that he's struggling to find the right words. But that's not even what I want. I need him to tell me that he regrets it. I need to hear it from him. To move on. And I need him to tell me that he can still be my friend.”

“Are you sure he regrets is, sweetheart? Because I always had the feeling that—”

“He walked out, in the middle of the night. Grabbed his stuff and just left. Not even a note. It happened last September. We have spoken exactly twice since that night. Trust me, I know he regrets it. He just doesn't want to tell me. But we're stuck. We need to talk about it.”

“Miles, I know it sucks to be in love with someone who doesn't love you back in the same way. But you can't wait for him to invite you back into his life. Alex is a very complicated man and you know that. If he feels as you say he does, he'll never find the right words to break your heart, because those don't exist. Only he doesn't know that and so he'll spend the rest of his days searching for them. It's a never ending spiral. Ha! Funny,” she suddenly said, smiling. “I just quoted one of your songs!”

He rolled his eyes. “Well done, mother.”

“Oh, stop it. What I mean to tell you is this: If you want Alex back in your life, and you can be okay with having him back in your life as just as friend, then you need to let him know that you're fine and that you can handle that. You need to let him know that his words won't make you leave him for good.”

He thought about it. As always, his mother had valid points. Back in that dimly lit hallway in Paris, Alex had told him that he'd never wanted to hurt him. It wouldn't surprise Miles if Alex was trying to figure out a way to break his heart without breaking it, which was impossible but 'impossible' was a term that Alex considered stupid. “So I should go to him?”

“That's what I would do. Tell him how you feel and tell him that, regardless of it all, you want him in your life as a friend. And if he doesn't want that, you need to know that as well. Whatever his reply may be, I know you can handle it.”

“I'll consider it. Thanks, mom.” He reached for his iPad, got back to the emails, but his mind lingered on her advice. If he did go to Alex, what would he tell him? Should he tell him everything? Or just tell him that it was time for them to move on? Would they have to discuss what had happened or merely agree never to mention it again?

“Out of curiosity,” wondered Pauline, “is Alex a good kisser?”

“Mother!” He wondered if all mothers were this nosy or if it was a unique trait of hers. He groaned when he noticed her eyes drilling a hole into his scull, as if trying to read his mind. “Oh if you must know, yes! He's a bloody amazing kisser! Can we please change the subject?”

“Fine,” she agreed. “So, does all of this mean that you're gay now?”

He grabbed the iPad and walked away. “Unbelievable!”

Here’s a little spoiler for the next part. ;)

“Don't!” Warned Alex sternly, even pointing a finger at him. His voice turned angry. “That's not— We're not at a point in our relationship where we do that!”

“Do what?”

“Fucking flirt!”

[yukiwrites]

Opening New Possibilities

Thank you so much for commissioning me, Anon! I hope you like this sinful sin ;D

Summary: Chrom always wanted his wife Robin to go... further down whenever she touched him, but was always afraid to bring it up with her. One day, however, he musters the courage and awkwardly touches the subject...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

The land was Ylisse. Its ruler, Chrom, The Exalt, governed alongside his Queen, Robin. Their lives couldn't have been better ever since she came back after sacrificing herself.

They spent day and night together, always wanting to make up for the lost time they couldn't enjoy together.

And yet, ever since before; ever since their marriage all those years ago, Chrom had a secret.

He had a secret he was too embarrassed to tell his Queen.

Still, every single night they spent under the same blankets, sharing each other's warmth, made him remember and long for it.

Chrom never really mustered the courage to tell Robin how very much he enjoyed whenever her hands travelled through his inner thighs and perineum whenever she sucked him off. Those were some of the best orgasms he'd ever had, and he wanted more.

He wanted Robin to touching him more; he wanted her to BE inside of him.

But how could he begin to even articulate such a question?! He was embarrassed enough to think about it, let alone to bring it up with her.

Their sex had always been great and they've been together for over seven years (counting the time she had been away, too!), so he worried. He worried that she might think that she's not good enough for him (Naga forbid!!) or that he might seem weird, period.

He had had such thoughts the whole day, prompted by the amazing head Robin had given him the previous night -- it came with perineum massaging and everything!

It felt so, so very good. He wanted to feel her more, to be touched more by his beloved wife.

And yet, every time he approached her, he felt like he was back in their Shepherds days -- he could barely look her in the face without blushing and turning into a stuttering fool. His heart beat so loudly in his ears, he could barely hear whatever excuse he would come up with so as to ease her mind of his strange behavior.

But of course it didn't work. Robin was sharper than anyone Chrom ever knew. The moment they were alone in their quarters after the day was done, she sat on the bed beside him and gently took his hand.

"Chrom, did something happen? You've avoided me all day... Did I do something?"

The Exalt flinched, quickly turning to his wife. "No! Gods, no, Robin... You never do anything that displeases me." He looked down, gulping. "I love you."

The Queen smiled softly, though the frown remained over her brow. She caressed his cheek, wanting him to look at her. "I love you too, silly." She breathed out. "Can you tell me what's troubling you? I can't bear to see you like this."

Chrom fidgeted, looking from her eyes to his hands, which he clenched so hard his nodes were turning white.

Embarrassment soon washed over his face, making him flash up like a blood moon in the night sky. "I..."

Robin closed her eyes so her gaze wouldn't press him to go on and rested her forehead on his shoulder. "It's okay, you can tell me anything." She slid her hand from his face to his own hand, bringing him solace.

His shoulders sagged, part of his mind wondering why he was such a fool to think that Robin of all people would judge him for his tastes.

She was his better half, his light in the darkness. Only with her he felt complete and whole.

Nevertheless, he needed to take two to three deep breaths, making Robin smile by his chest, remembering the day he proposed.

"This is... much harder than I thought. It all makes sense in my head, b-but I don't know how to put it to words..." He stuttered, clumsily intertwining his fingers with hers. His hands were cold and sweaty at the same time, making Robin worry.

Still, she wouldn't press him. She kept her head on his shoulder, snuggling on it so as to calm him down. "It's okay, my love. Take your time; I won't go anywhere. Not this time."

"D-deep breaths..." He closed his eyes and breathed in with everything he had, then out. "R-remember what we did last night?" He coughed.

Robin let out a confused smirk, lifting her gaze to him. "Quite well, if I may add."

"Hahah... hah..." He laughed nervously, squeezing her hands on his. "M-more specifically, you remember what y-you did t-t-to me, right? With your hands... not your mouth. Though the mouth was great, too."

Robin looked up in thought, the fog of lust from their past love-making taking its time to lift. But when it did, she let out an exclamation of surprise. "Oh! Oh no, you didn't like that? I'm so sorry, I thought-"

"No! No, no, Robin! On the contrary!" He held her shoulders before she could apologize more, his face on fire. "I loved it! I love it so much when you do it, so much I-" He looked from her eyes to his hands, "I... I was thinking if you...'d be willing to, you know... go, uh... further..." He deflated, looking away as the words took a lot of courage to be uttered.

Without a moment's hesitation, Robin replied:

"Sure."

Chrom's chin fell in surprise, his hands not realizing how much they squeezed his wife's shoulders. "I- Eh? You- you will?"

The Queen felt her face aflush, but managed to smile despite it. "Of course I will, you silly husband of mine." She lifted her shoulders so he would let go of them and cupped his face with her hands. "I only want to make you happy in any way I can. Besides, it's not like the thought hadn't crossed my mind before..."

"It-" Chrom choked, coughing. "It did?! W-when? How?"

Robin looked up in thought, an adorable thinking pout covering her lips. "Hmmm, I don't remember the first time exactly, but almost every time I go down on you and explore, you know... I love to hear how you sound. You really do love it when I touch you down there, so I've always wanted to hear more."

Chrom's shoulders sagged even more, his entire face, neck and ears red as the most bright firework. He wasn't ready for such a... ready response.

Actually, he wasn't ready to say it at all. Or to be accepted.

And yet, there Robin goes, always making him feel loved and at home, as she'd always done. He opened and closed his mouth, his hands still halfway between him and her body ever since he let go of her shoulders.

Robin put her index over her lips in thought. "Still, this is a pretty big decision, so we'll need to consider it carefully. We have lube from the times you do anal to me, but I'm not an expert in male anatomy to understand where to touch and how much pressure to apply..."

Chrom blinked, a nervous smile sprouting over his lips. "HAha, there you go, you tactical genius, you." He laughed, hugging his wife. "Always with the meticulous thinking."

Robin laughed in response, wrapping her arms around his back. "Of course! This isn't something to be taken lightly, you know. I need to understand how everything works so I won't end up hurting you. Remember we also took our time when you did it to me?"

The Exalt sniffed his wife's hair, deeply breathing her scent in. "... Yeah. Yeah, I remember. We took at least a week to get everything right so I could, uh, go... in."

"Ah, Chrom! You're making me remember everything! How good that felt!" She dug her nails over his sleepwear. "I can't wait to make you feel the same!"

Chrom squeezed the hug, wondering how could he fall even more in love with the same woman after so many years. "... Thanks, Robin. I meant it. I love you so much."

"As do I, my King." She caressed his hair as he slowly lay both of them down on the bed, snuggling to her chest. "I'll take it upon myself to study in the library tomorrow. We can set up a day for our first try if you want."

He laughed nervously. "Hah, I'm ready for you anytime, Robin." Then, he caressed her back, closing his eyes to listen to her heartbeat. "Just tell me whenever you feel comfortable to and we c-can try."

"I won't hurt you, I promise." She held his head, kissing his hair.

"I know you won't." He smiled, feeling the nervousness melt away.

He was safe. He was in his wife's -- in his beloved's -- arms. No harm would ever come from being with her.

Robin hummed with his acceptance, trailing her hands down to his back, pulling his shirt up. "I can't wait to hear your adorable voice..."

Chrom gulped, feeling his back bristle as she pulled up part of his sleepwear. "Hoh? I'm sensing something from your intentions, my perverted Queen."

"My, you shouldn't slander, my precious King." She feigned ignorance as he lifted his gaze to her, but they both could see the glint of lust in one another's eyes. "However, since you mentioned... Why don't we do something we're used to for now...?" She winked.

He was weak to her winks.

"That sounds like a great plan, my tactician." He licked her lips before letting her take his shirt off, a night of love and hot breaths following right after.

The following day, Robin did as she promised and went to study male anatomy at the royal library. She knew that there was an... adult section inside since she had browsed there years ago.

Each time they talked about it, they got even more excited, looking forward to it as though they were teenagers eager to experience their first sexual intercourse.

In a sense, it would be their first time, so their feelings weren’t that far-off from the truth.

On the day itself, Chrom could barely manage to function through his Exalted duties, making Robin smirk and turn into a blushing ball in consequence, having to hide her face with both hands so as to compose herself.

Chrom made sure not to overeat during the day, and took his time to wash himself once night came.

Her heart thumping by her chest, Robin changed into her nightgown and waited over the bed, not being able to hide her excited grin.

"Seeing you so openly excited about this makes me feel less nervous, somehow, Robin." Chrom said by the folding screen, wearing nothing but his bathrobe, his hair still wet.

"Well, of course I am! I can't wait to hear your adorable voice...!" She winked, making her husband flinch and blush in response.

"I... might be getting nervous again." He sat down beside his wife, twiddling his thumbs.

Robin scooted closer to him, using the bed sheet to dry his hair. "It's okay, Chrom. If you think it's too much for you right now, we can do it another day-"

"N-no! I'm ready, I swear I am!" He shook his head to free himself from the blanket, looking at Robin from below.

She felt an arrow of adorableness strike through her heart. She could get used to that kind of feeling.

Still, she smiled and lifted her chin, going back to scrubbing his head. "As I was saying, we can take it slow. What matters the most here is how you are feeling and how you'll feel."

Chrom smiled tenderly under Robin's forceful shakes, placing both hands over her waist. "Thanks, Robin. For accepting me and for caring for me so much."

"You don't need to thank me for that, you know. I'm your wife and I love you. I'll love you no matter what." She placed a kiss on his head over the blanket, finally taking it off to reveal his serious mien. "... It seems like you're ready, hm?"

His shoulders sagged as he brought his wife to him. "... Yeah. Whenever I'm with you, I know that everything will be alright."

Robin placed one knee over the bed, her other leg between both of Chrom's. "You're so sweet, my King. I love you so much." She lifted his chin with her index, placing a kiss over his lips. She slowly inserted her tongue as she slightly pushed him down on the bed, her hand inside his robe.

Chrom closed his eyes to enjoy his wife's taste, the nervousness somehow melting and giving way to excitement instead. He felt a moan die inside his throat as Robin explored his mouth with her tongue, sitting atop of him once he was on the bed, his feet still on the floor.

"Be a good boy and put your hands up, hm?" Robin bit his lower lip as she unfastened his robe, revealing his toned chest and abdomen.

As well as a budding erection.

"A-alright..." He obeyed sheepishly, lifting both arms overhead and holding a pillow with them so he wouldn't be tempted to lower them.

Robin took off her own nightgown, flashing her bare chest and lace underwear, complete with a garter belt. "R-Robin...!" He grunted, squeezing his eyes due to his wife's beauty.

She felt the erection rise immediately, poking her thighs.

"Oh, Chrom..." She smirked, placing one hand over the bed as she bended down to kiss him again, feeling how he wanted to linger more inside her mouth each time; how he wanted to taste her more.

She trailed down her kisses to his jaw and ear, enjoying how uneven his breathing had become.

Once again she sat over him, placing his erection in the middle of her crotch, feeling it poke her. Ignoring it, she pressed her hands around her husband's body, knowing he would feel her hands as though they were fire igniting his entirety.

She licked down his neck and chest, biting both of his nipples as she passed through them, slowly passing her tongue through each of his abdomen muscles. Carefully did she nip his erection when she arrived on it, her hands now pressing his thighs. "I'll need you to lift them for me, darling." She whispered by his glans, making Chrom dig his fingers into the pillow.

Robin watched as his erection trembled while he placed both feet over the bed. She herself gave way for him by kneeling on the floor, looking at everything first hand: he did wash himself thoroughly. His pinky anus was twitching furiously, surely due to embarrassment.

"D-don't look so hard..." He whined, meaning to close his legs, but Robin's hand over his thigh forbade him to.

"You're... you're so cute, Chrom. Oh, gods. You're adorable." Robin felt something awakening inside of her, the urge to simply ravish that man to heaven setting her heart and body on fire.

Chrom blushed so hard his eyes were teary. "I- Cute? Robin, I'm not-" He breathed out as she slid her hands downwards from his inner thighs, to his perineum. "Eek!"

He said EEK, Robin felt her mind explode, her face as red as her husband's. I want to hear more. MORE.

"Ah... hah..." Chrom breathed out, squeezing his eyes more and more as Robin pressed her middle finger over is perineum.

"Does it feel good? You need to tell me the moment it doesn't." She licked her lips, her throat suddenly dry. She wanted to suck him off, to drink his fluids and to be ravished by him... And yet, this experience was bringing her so much pleasure she felt her insides twitching without even being touched.

Hearing Chrom's embarrassed moans and watching his legs twitch in pleasure did something to her she never imagined it would. She felt actual PLEASURE by just seeing him squirm under her touch.

"You are. You really are so cute, Chrom." She whispered again and again, coating her fingers in lubricant as she slid her hands down to his anus.

"I'm not- eek!" He twitched in surprise as Robin trailed her finger around his anal opening.

"You said 'eek' again..." She mouthed to herself, lust fogging her gaze. "How do you feel? Can I slide it in?" She spoke aloud to him, prodding her middle finger.

"Hng... gah..." He bemoaned as she teased him, his erection coated in preseminal fluid. "D-don't keep asking..."

"But I have to, my love. I don't want to hurt you." She smirked, taking her free hand to her chest so as to calm it down.

Her heart was beating so fast; her body felt so hot. Her insides were also twitching like crazy, and she knew that the moment Chrom hit the climax, so would she, despite not being touched at all.

Everything was so adorable: his erection shot up whenever he twitched, bobbing to the sides helplessly, wanting someone to suck it off so dearly. Robin felt her throat drying even more as she pressed her finger into Chrom's anal opening, inserting the tip.

"How does it feel?" She felt it slide in with rather ease; the lube doing its work, though his insides made sure to suck into her so much she had to stop inserting it.

"It, gods, it feels... strange, I-" He opened his eyes to look at her, breathing so heavily he could barely form a coherent phrase. "I- oh gods, t-there...!"

Robin managed to insert her entire finger, finding a slight protuberance inside. So that was his sweet spot. "Here?" She tapped on his, feeling him suck her in so much even his toes gripped on the bed sheets.

"Ahn... y-yes, I- Oh, Robin..." He squirmed in pleasure, squeezing his eyes shut once again.

"Ah, I can't get enough of this..." She tapped into his sweet spot more and more, enjoying how much he could let out his voice.

His sweet, sweet, alluring voice.

"R-Robin, I-" He gritted his teeth, lifting his hips as though he couldn't control the amount of pleasure his body was feeling.

The adorable voice he used to call her name, the way his insides sucked her finger so much and how the semen shot up from his erection to his chest all made Robin have her own climax at the same time as him.

"Oh, Chrom. My sweet... adorable, Chrom." She squeezed her legs shut, her body trembling with the orgasm. Her finger was still trapped inside of him as his muscles refused to free her.

"Ah, hah... R-Robin... this felt- amazing, I-"

"You only regret not asking earlier?" She panted, using her free hand to touch his still-erect penis. "I have something you might want to hear, then..."

[babyshawwn]

Slow Hands (Smut)

MASTERLIST

Word count: 2,7k. 

The silence had finally fallen over the Mendes household after the madness of Christmas Eve. The dishes had been done, the lights on the Christmas tree was turned off and the presents were already laying underneath for tomorrow morning. For the first time in hours, the house was quiet and peaceful. 

Shawn’s two cousins and Aaliyah had just fallen asleep in her room upstairs while Manny and Karen had gone to bed about an hour ago after finishing wrapping the last presents.

Shawn’s grandparents had taken his old room for the night and therefore Shawn and I had drawn the short straw and been exiled to the large black couch in the living room. 

I was laying on my back with a blanket across my exhausted body, deeply caught up in new the episodes of Stranger Things to make myself relax after all the holiday stress. 

Shawn’s soft lips wandered up my arm slowly as his familiar mouth reached my collarbone and he brushed his lips against my skin. I barely paid any attention to his tender touches though, I was too caught up in the show to even notice how close he had gotten to my body. 

I never really felt his hands slowly running up my legs until I felt his long fingers slide closer to my core. His strong hand pushed apart my thighs and his fingertips brushed lightly against my centre. 

Gently, his thumb moved along the line of my black thong and left a warm linger. I twirled by his eager touches between my shivering legs and slowly, I lost focus on the episode of my favourite show. 

Within seconds, the goosebumps were running down my arms. 

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for hours now, honey.” His silky voice sounded in my ear. 

“Guess you should have just used your fingers to begin with. They always feel like magic when you use them on me.” I gasped silently. “Or inside of me.” 

A familiar smirk ran across his rosy lips and with his free hand, Shawn moved his fingers through his messy curls, knowingly pushing my buttons in all the right ways. 

“Like magic, huh? Oh baby, I haven’t even given you the full show yet.” His teasing words made my mouth dry in the matter of seconds as a tight pull appeared between my legs. 

I had always teased Shawn with the fact that how his fingers moved on the guitar during his shows, was exactly how his fingers moved on my body at my own private shows.

His hand rubbed between my legs roughly as his broad body bended over me. Leaning down, Shawn’s teeth bit into my bottom lip and he sucked on it harshly.

Without any control over myself, a slight moan slipped out of my lips and broke the silence in the dark room. Quickly, Shawn pushed his thumb into my mouth to shut me up. 

“No baby, quiet. No one can hear us.” He shused teasingly into my ear, pushing his thumb deeper into my wet mouth as I gave him a suck. 

His fingers were playing mockingly with the hem of my panties, caressing my sore skin exactly the way he knew I liked. Eagerly, I pushed my lower body to meet his fingers mocking movements on me.

With his palm rubbing against my core, a wide smirk appeared on his flushed face. Painfully slow, he slid my panties to the side and exposed me entirely to his teasing touches. 

Shawn and his bloody slow hands. 

“Mh baby, I always make you so wet.” He whispered, his breath floating around my ear. “So easily.” 

Shawn let a finger slide across my wetness, eyes glued on mine as I twirled underneath, rose the finger to his mouth to taste my juice. I swallowed as I watch him shut his eyes, his fingers in his out, the finger, and felt a linger rush down my spine.

“Such particular taste, baby.” 

With those words, he pushed two fingers inside me as I widened my legs for him in the wish of him to in deeper. 

Dragging his thumb out of my mouth, he left a wet trace down my stomach as his thumb started working on my clit. His fingers moved slowly, torturing me in every way possible. 

Completely in control, just how he likes it. 

Unable to lay still, his big hand pressed me hardly down and Shawn took back his control over my aching body. Throwing my head back in the sweet pleasure of feeling Shawn, the heat rose in my already heavily flushed cheek. I had to bite roughly into my bottom lip to swallow a loud whimper from slipping out. 

His fingers moved in and out of my wet core, slipping in deeper and twirling around while his thumb continued its magic on the top of my clit. The pleasure grew stronger and I was soaking. 

Shawn kissed my inner thighs lovingly, biting into my skin and leaving sore marks behind with hard sucks from his warm mouth. The way his tongue moved on my body was near orgasm worthy. 

“Fuck.” I breathed as his fingers pushed in deeper, twisted around and hit a soft spot that made every inch of my skin burn.

“Quit babe, you need to be quiet for me.” Shawn whispered desperately in fear of getting caught at any moment. He forced his free hand into my hair and dragged my ear to his burning lips. 

“If you stay quiet for me, I’ll let you cum. Okay?” He told me, locking our eyes together. 

“Okay.” I sobbed, twisting in frustration. 

“You’re gonna be a good girl for me?” 

“Always.”

“Good.” He hummed, his mouth following my jawline sweetly. 

Quickly, Shawn flipped around my body and my stomach met the cold leather of the couch. I felt his arm move under me and shortly after, he lifted up my hips. Carefully, Shawn placed a pillow underneath me for support. 

“Is this okay?” He asked gently, his dark eyes gazing over at me. I nodded back at his question. 

Tender, Shawn put a tot of hair behind my ear before sending me a loving yet tiny smile. He gave me a quick peck to show his affection before I felt him move to sit between my legs behind me. 

His big hands ran over the curves of my exposed ass, harshly smacking and grabbing both cheeks as a loud whimper slipped from my mouth. 

“Shh baby, remember what we talked about.” He hushed me - still with a loving tone - as his nails dug into my butt. 

Grabbing roughly and feeling every inch of my skin, I felt the air being sucked out of my lungs. His hands embraced my curves and I could tell a smile was spreading on his lips. 

“So round and plump. And such soft and silky skin. My beautiful baby.” He muttered to himself as I let out a silent yes. 

His hands moved all over my ass and his eyes were glued to my silhouette. “And all for me.” 

“Always for you, Shawn.” I agreed with a stutter. 

Shawn’s mouth was wandering down my back, sucking and licking the places he knew so well. 

Shawn’s fingers went to my clit, gently rubbing his fingertips against my sensitive, soaking area. 

Gazing back at him, I watched as a wide smile ran across his lips. It reminded him of being a risky teenager again as well. Sneaking into each other’s room and doing things we weren’t allowed to. It wasn’t exactly the first time, we’d had to be extremely quiet. 

I sucked in air, shortly feeling rather uncomfortable with the whole situation but at the same time, Shawn’s mocking fingers were making me feel too horny to really care. 

I squeezed the fabric of the couch with my fingers as Shawn slid his middle finger deeply into my already aching core. 

“Shawn, fuck.” I whined desperately, feeling the tension in my body spread. 

His finger twisted inside of me and a loud moan slipped out. For just a second, neither of us breathed. 

“Don’t make any noise, baby.” He warned. “Or I’ll have to stop.” 

“Please don’t.” I begged him, lowering my voice. 

“Cover your mouth, then.” 

I did as I was told and placed my sticky palms across my mouth and added some pressure.  

“Good girl.” Shawn said, sliding his fingers roughly in and out of my centre as I bit into my hand, trying my hardest to refrain another loud sob. “Such a good girl.”

Shawn added another finger as he pushed in deeper and hit a perfect spot, making me even wetter than I already was. His other hand gripped my waist and forced me down so I couldn’t move. 

“You feel so tight, baby.” he hummed sweetly, struggling with his breath too. 

Slowly dragging his fingers in and out of me, I shut my eyes and arched my back to meet them in their deep thrusts. He laughed slightly at my desperation to feel him but I knew he loved my reaction.  

My body had become sweaty and my cheeks were burning up while I gasped desperately for air. To add just a bit more pleasure, his thumb started to circle my clit again. 

“You’re so ready for me to taste you.” Shawn rasped, dragging his fingers violently out of my core. 

Just listening to those few words forced chills to find their way down my naked spine and a warmth pool spread between my quivering legs. 

“Please.” I begged, twirling underneath his broad body. 

“You make me so fucking hard, baby.” He stated, as he spread my cheeks and attached his familiar mouth to my cunt. 

After spreading my legs to the fullest, his sweet tongue danced against my wet core eager to meet him. Finally, his warm tongue quickly encountered my body and I screamed against my hand covering my mouth. 

His delicious soft tongue pressed harder against my core and he started digging in and sucking, once in a while stopping to tease me with delicate kisses, before sucking full on again. 

Shawn knew he was driving me mad and he loved every second of it. His hands were pulsing around my inner thighs, grabbing hardly and holding me down. I glowered down at the boy between my legs as Shawn’s eyes caught mine while eating me out. I felt a smirk between my legs which left a tickly lingering on my sweaty skin. 

Wrapping my fingers around his messy curls, I pushed his mouth deeper into my body, desperate to feel as much of Shawn’s wet tongue as I possibly could. Biting into my bottom lip, I barely kept myself from screaming his name out loud. 

Shawn’s tongue disappeared from my core and left me with a silent sob. Letting out another soft gasp, I felt one of his hands slide back to my neck and pushing my face towards his. 

“Shawn.” I whined in frustration, my body quivering for release. 

“That’s for not paying attention to me.” He mocked, raising his eyebrow at me.

Quickly, he connected our lips together. I felt him smirk against my mouth – feeling just how much I was gasping for air – as my mouth fell slightly open as Shawn slipped his tongue in between my lips deepening our heated kiss. 

“Was that magic enough for you, though?” He teased into my mouth.

My fingers wrapped around his curls as I dragged him closer to my mouth desperate to taste him. 

“Clearly it was for you.” I fired back as my hand travelled down his toned body and brushed slightly against his massive boner. 

I wasn’t the only one getting horny from this; Shawn’s cock was as hard as ever and clearly going down on me, had an effect on him too. 

Shawn laughed at my comment before biting roughly into his rosy lip. Pushing his hands into his boxers, he began pumping himself. 

I stared up at my boyfriend pleasuring himself above me. My fingers wrapped around the fabric of his black boxers and easily, I dragged them down his hips. 

My stomach flipped as I saw just how hard he was while his hand was moving up and down in a steady pace. 

I pushed myself up and attached my mouth to his inner thighs. Shawn groaned silently as my mouth started sucking roughly, moving closer and closer to his hand pumping his cock. 

Shawn continuing to pleasure himself, I let my tongue lick around the root of his dick. With his other hand, Shawn’s fingers went in my hair and he pushed my mouth closer to his heated body. 

“Use your tongue too.” He whimpered completely out of breath. I started nipping to his skin, my tongue moving in circles, using my whole mouth to pleasure him. 

Shawn pushed his hand to the root of his dock and allowed my tongue to lick around the tip of his head. 

“Yes baby, right there.” He hummed, shutting his eyes while feeling my mouth play teasingly with the end of him.  

My plump lips moved around his head and twisted and twirled in small circles as Shawn’s nails dug hardly into my scalp. Using my tongue, I licked around his head, sucking on certain places I knew he loved. Planting sweet kisses and using my lips to twist at few times. 

“You want to taste me?”

My eyes widened and I nodded back as reply to his dirty question. I was too out of breath to use my words. 

“Open your mouth for me, baby.” Shawn lowered his cock to my face as I open up my mouth and stuck out my tongue. 

Eager to taste him and for him to cum all over me, I grabbed around his hard cock  with my hand and started pumping him in a steady pace. 

“Fuck baby.” He breathed, throwing his head back in sexual frustration. 

I watched as the pleasure floated across his body and how his muscles became tense within seconds. Shawn shut his eyes tightly, trying his very best to keep the moans at a minimum. Neither of us wanted to get caught in the act. 

His fingers disappeared into my steamy hair and he massaged my scalp roughly, his nails digging into my head to deal with the tension in his body. I used both my hands to pump him hardly, moving up and down in a fast pace, twisting around and to add just a little more pleasure, I grabbed around his balls and started to massage them gently using my mouth to kiss them as well. 

I was pushing him as close to the edge as I possible could, but I loved watching him suffer from my touches. As Shawn’s cheeks turned even redder and he desperately bit into his plump bottom lip, I knew he was seconds away from bursting all over my face.

“Come on, baby. I’m ready for you.” I spoke and with that, Shawn exploded all over me. 

Parts of his thick liquid landed on my tongue and Shawn watched me carefully as I swallowed. His hand reached down for my flushed face and gently, he embraced my burning cheek. 

His thumb slipped across my burning lips as he sent me a loving stare. I licked around my mouth as he forced air in between the small gap of his quivering lips.

Shawn was gasping desperately for air as a drop of sweat slipped from his temple and down his jawline before landing on the couch. 

“Fuck y/n, you’re so damn sexy when you swallow.” He muttered in awe as he leaned down and closed the tiny gap between our lips. 

The kiss was heated and eager but still rather affectionate and gentle. Shawn rested his sweaty forehead against mine as he sweetly rubbed his nose tip on top of mine. 

“Next time, you better pay more attention to me.” He joked, nipping to my lips. 

A tiny laughter slipped out of my mouth. My hand moved up his back and grabbed around his neck, pulling him just an inch closer to my lips. 

“Well, if this is my punishment, I’ll never pay attention to you again.”

Shawn rolled his eyes at my teasing words but he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’d like to see you try. I just have to do this-“ His fingers slipped down my naked body and reached my clit. My back arched from his fingers playing with my core softly as a tiny smug appeared on his face. “And you’re already wet again.” He mocked to prove his point. 

Sadly, he was right. 

“Well, Mendes. Does this mean I get a round two?” I dared him, biting into my bottom lip still tasting of him. 

“Depends, can you be quiet this time?” He breathed heavily. 

“Make me.” I whispered, before he flipped me over and his slow hands mocked me again. 

[frejahertziswritingthistime]

An education  Chapter 4

A/N: I’m so happy, you guys like this story! It’s a special one for me, because of the time-frame and the slow-burn stuff, which I’ve never really done before. I just want to say a huge thank you to @redeyedvixen, who’s been a true pillar; she’s amazing, wonderful and a ton of other amazing adjectives, and THANK YOU for being there for me (even when I send you snapchats of me being weird – like accidentally sending you a snapchat of me singing a lullaby). Remember, I always say yes to requests and feedback feeds the writer!

 MOBILE MASTERLIST

DESKTOP MASTERLIST

 Missed something?

An education masterlist

Summary: You’ve had a crush on Dean for a few years, and during a drunken night, you accidentally let it slip that you have a crush on a person, Dean knows. Dean sets out to figure out on who it is.

Pairings: Dean x reader Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, language, sexy dream

Chapter 4 Overheard conversations

 June

The three of us were sitting in the kitchen, trying to enjoy a quiet breakfast together. It was hard, considering Sam glared, his eyes flickering in increasing pace between me and Sam. He pointed a finger accusingly at me and then Dean and back at me. “Something is going on between you two.” He said accusingly. I looked at Dean, my eyes flitting over his face, and his eyes finding mine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sammy.” Dean grumbled quickly, stuffing his mouth with bacon. Sam snorted. “Liar.” Sam grunted and narrowed his eyes. “Something his been different since that hunt, I took with Garth.” I shrugged.

Truth was, something had shifted, since the night, I found my photo in Dean’s bed. Dean had given me an incredibly horrible lie (I-uh-I found it and I-uh- kept it for you) and had been shaking as he waited for my answer; he knew I knew he was lying, but I didn’t want to go further into it – honestly, the answer to why wasn’t really at the forefront of my mind. I didn’t want to put our friendship through that, so I had accepted his lie as his truth, and we had silently agreed to never speak of it again. I was curious, of course, but I didn’t want to risk our friendship – he was embarrassed about it, and I didn’t want to further that embarrassment, so I left it alone. For now, at least. So we went on our merry way, pretending like it hadn’t happened, but I felt it, and I was sure he did too; everything had an air of unspoken words about it. A shift in the air, in the way we were towards each other. It was almost as if an invisible barrier had been broken down. I found myself glancing at him more often than not, and often, he was staring at me too, an undecipherable look behind his green eyes. Prolonged touches were becoming more and more common – lingering touches across my back, neck and hair. Sam must’ve noticed, because now he was glaring angrily at us both.

“Sam, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. Promise.” I shrugged and dug back into my pancakes. Sam groaned annoyed. “I know something’s going on! Can’t you guys just be…” He groaned and threw his hands up in frustration. “You know what? Fine. Figure it out yourselves.” He stood up. “I’m living with goddamn teenagers…” He mumbled as he left the kitchen. I caught Deans eye, and he shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Let it go, Y/N, he’s been having a hard time.” I raised my eyebrows. He smirked at me. “Anyway, let’s recap here.” He pulled a bunch of print-outs out from his pocket and laid them out on the table in front of me. “We’ve got something or someone killing young girls. Ten missing, different ages, different looks and social circles.” I nodded, scanning the papers in front of me. “And this one” I put a hand on the top print of a missing-poster, turning it towards him. “Is the newest, right?” He cocked his head to the side and put a hand right next to mine – it felt like a current was running through his hand all the way over to mine – I wanted to reach out and touch him so much, it almost hurt me. He nodded slowly. “Yup. Anna, aged 20 disappeared without a trace three days ago, as she was walking home from class. Yesterday, her body was found.” He sighed, and gently moved my hand off the paper, and I almost gasped audibly; it felt like I had been shocked. He quickly looked up at me, a small worry-line appearing between his brows, but he moved his hand away just as quickly, as he had put it on me, and pulled a piece of paper out from the pile. “This…” He said, as he showed me the paper. “Is how she was found. A bunch of old symbols and sigils carved into her, and she had practically been drained for blood.” He said as I took the paper from the coroner and scanned it. I narrowed my eyes at the sigils and signs that were portrayed on her body. “I can try and decode some of them on the way.” I said quietly, already in research-mode, and Dean grinned at me. “Of course, you can, sweetheart. We’re leaving in an hour!” He said as he pushed his chair out and stomped off, leaving me with the folder of the missing girls. I had my head stuck in the papers as I packed, haphazardly throwing my stuff in an old duffel-bag, trying to make heads and tails of the sigils, placements and so forth. Sam stuck his head inside my room. “We’re going. Are you good to go?” I nodded, still with my nose in the case-file, and followed him automatically out of the bunker and towards the Impala. “I call shot-gun!” Sam roared as he ran to the passenger side. I groaned, finally looking fully up from the papers. “Come on, why?” I whined. He grinned at me. “I’ve got the longest legs, and Dean’s driving. Soooooo…. Backseat for you!” He said with a wink and I grimaced. I hated the backseat. Dean came up behind me, and ruffled my hair, his calloused fingers resting for a fraction of a second on the nape of my neck, making my skin erupt into goosebumps. “That’s the way this works, sweetheart.” He mumbled. I frowned. “Fine. But I’m not going to be happy about it! It smells back there…” I said, scrunching my nose. “Hey, nothing bad about baby!” He said with a finger pointed in my direction, as he walked towards the Impala. I rolled my eyes at him, and got in the backseat, pulling my knees in – the space was limited, because of Sam’s enormous body pushing the seat back.

We drove for a few hours, and my eyes got tired from all the sigils and fine print, so I closed the folder on the case and closed my eyes. “Too much reading, Y/N?” Dean’s voice sounded from the front-seat. I snapped my eyes open, and saw his green eyes looking at me in the rear-view-mirror. I groaned and stretched my body. “Yup. I’m done for a few hours.” I said. He laughed, and my stomach filled with butterflies. I blushed and closed my eyes again. “Sleep for a few hours. We’ll wake you when we get there.” He said in a low, soothing voice. I nodded, already tired, and laid back. One of the perks of the backseat was the opportunity to stretch out your entire body and sleep. I curled my body as much as I could, and sighed deeply, already drifting off to sleep. I had a recurring dream. Dean, all smiles and green eyes, laying on top of me. He kissed me gently, as his hips rocked back and forward, pumping in and out of me. I moaned in my dream, wallowing in the feel of him inside me, and wrapped my arms around him. He kissed me and started to say something, when I was rudely awoken by a loud guffaw from the front-seat. I groaned but didn’t open my eyes. It was such a good dream, and I didn’t want to let it go quite yet. “Dude, stop, she’ll hear you.” Dean’s gruff voice came from the front, and Sam chuckled. “She’s sleeping, dude. It’s fine.” Dean snorted. “So…” Sam said after a few quiet moments. “Sam, shut your pie-hole.” Dean snarled at Sam, who just laughed again. “Come on, Dean. I’ve known it for a while, you just didn’t have the balls to admit it before now. So, out with it. What happened, when I was gone?” Dean mumbled something. “Sorry? I didn’t hear that.” I could hear the smile in Sam’s voice. I forced myself to take slow, even breaths and keep my eyes closed, so I the guys wouldn’t notice I was awake. “I.. She found a picture, okay?” He grumbled. “A picture?” Sam said confused. “Yes, oaky, a picture of her!” Dean snarled. “Oooh…” Sam said, suddenly understanding. “no more busty Asian beauties, huh?” Dean laughed. “I guess not.” Silence followed, and I almost considered fake waking up, when Dean’s voice sounded again. “I..Uh… I know, I’ve told you about this, but… Can we keep it between us?” Sam sighed. “Why, Dean? Can’t you just finally admit it to her?” He asked annoyed. “No, Sam. This isn’t that easy, okay? It’s a whole new ball-court here, and I’m not ready to try out yet. Besides, who says she’ll take it well? Handle it at all? Nah, I think this should just… Stay in my daydreams, man.” He said crestfallen. Sam was about to say something, when a sneeze snuck up on me. Dean cleared his throat. “Hey, look who’s up! We would have woken you soon anyway, we’re almost there.” I nodded and rubbed fake-sleep out of my fake-sleepy-eyes. “Cool.” I said in a small voice. “uhm… Where are we, exactly?” Sam turned and looked at me. “A town between middle and nowhere.” He said with a grin. I rolled my eyes and stretched my arms, pushing my chest out just a little – Dean’s eyes found me in the rear-view-mirror and widened slightly as his gaze fell on my chest. I grinned as I caught his eye in the mirror and winked coyly at him. He blushed slightly and winked back, as he slowed the car down and pulled over to a parking-lot in front of a motel.

The three of us stepped out, Sam stretching his long legs and shaking his head, making his long hair flow gently around his face. Dean clapped his shoulder and walked past him into the front door of the motel. I followed him, stepping behind him. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at me, as he stood in front of the reception-desk. “Hi, can we get a room?” The mousy clerk nodded slowly, her eyes trained on Dean’s face. I rolled my eyes. It’s the same, where ever we went – a small town, a sweet, innocent, quiet girl took one look at Dean and could see herself in a wedding dress in front of him. “S-s-sure.” She stuttered and smiled a little too wide. I couldn’t help myself, and I snaked my arm around Dean’s waist, my fingers resting gently against his side. He stiffened and looked down at me curiously. I simply smiled sweetly at him and answered. “We’re three, thank you.” Sam came in, his arms and hands covered in duffel-bags and case-files, and muttered “Thanks for the help, guys.” The clerk smiled sweetly, her eyes cold and trained on my hand around Dean’s waist. “Three single beds, please.” Sam said to her. Her eyes flickered to him, and then back at Dean. “We only have rooms with two singles and a couch or one double and one couch.” She said waspily. Dean sighed and looked down at me. “What do you think?” I shrugged. “Either one works.” He looked briefly at Sam, a silent communication going on behind my back, and he turned back to the clerk. “Two singles and a couch, thanks.” He said kindly, and she nodded, plotting general information about us down on her computer, before handing Dean a room-key. “Enjoy your stay. If there’s anything, anything at all, I can do for you, let me know.” She said with a voice thick with implication. I rolled my eyes at her and grabbed the room-key from her outstretched hand and stalked off – it annoyed me to no end, to see these girls flirting with Dean; I had no interest in watching him flirt back. But to my surprise, he quickly caught up with me. “Same shit, different town.” He said as an answer to my silent question. I stopped in front of the room and unlocked the door.

It was – as most motels are – dingy, had a weird, stale smell, and some truly awful bedspreads. I looked around (the window was covered in grime, and a faint smell of tobacco hung in the air) and my eyes fell on the couch. None of the boys would fit in that small thing; I guess I was on couch-duty. I sat down on it, and grimaced – it was well-worn, and I could feel every individual spring poking through the thin cover. I sighed and looked at the boys, who had the good grace to look somewhat sorry for me and my predicament. Sam sighed, and Dean sat down on the right bed.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

 Six hours later, and my head was hurting like a bitch. I rubbed my forehead with my right hand, sighed deeply and closed the file in front of me. Okay, I’m done. I can’t contain any more information.” I said, closing my eyes. “Yeah, I’m just about done too.” Sam sighed. Dean sat still with his eyes closed. “Did you figure out what those carved sigils were?” He said quietly – Dean was about to hit his breaking point. “Yeah. It’s like a… Weird type of home-made angel-ward. Not very pretty, not very graciously done, but I’m like 99 percent sure it’s an angel-ward.” I said, looking at Sam and Dean. “Angel-ward? On…” Sam trailed off, and I could hear him think – groaned. “okay, research is done for the night. I’m exhausted. And hungry.” I frowned at my grumbling stomach. Dean chuckled. “Alright, I’ll get grub. After that, we sleep. All of us!” He said with a pointed glare at Sam, who waved a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah.” Dean sighed and stood up. He winked at me and stepped out of the door – the moment the door had closed behind him, Sam turned to look at me. “Spill.” He said sternly. I looked confused at him. “What?” He narrowed his eyes. “You know what.” He said. I groaned and threw my back into the couch – bad idea, as a spring poked through, hitting me hard. I winced as I rubbed my sore back and stared at Sam, who sat and waited patiently for me to talk. “Okay. Listen, it’s…” I sighed deeply. “Come on, Y/N. What is going on with you and Dean?” I grimaced. “Okay, nothing is really going on. It just… It feels weird. Like a barrier or something has tumbled down. I don’t know. I’ve sort of allowed myself to think everything to be a bit more than what it probably is.” I said with a shrug. Sam shook his head in disbelief, but I continued. “Listen, Sam. This friendship me and Dean have… It’s the best thing in my life. Seriously. I don’t want to jeopardize it. So, can we just… Leave it alone, please?” I begged. “But…” His words got cut off as Dean opened the door his hands holding to large to-go-bags and a big grin on his face. “Grub!” He yelled and put the bags down on the table in the middle of the room. “Alright, cheeseburger for me, a bacon-burger with curly cheese-fries for Y/n – you better share those – and…” He grimaced. “And a Waldorf salad, whatever the hell that means, for the weirdo.” He tossed the container to Sam and started pulling the rest of the food out of the bags. Silence, only interrupted by loud chewing, filled the cramped room, as we chowed down on the food.

Dean bunched up the piece of wrappings and threw them in the bin next to the minifridge. “Alright, I’m done. Pack it in, guys, we’re going to have to go hard at it tomorrow.” He said with a yawn, as he bent down to lace his boots down and flicking them off. Sam grunted and put his container down as well. “Me too.” He laid down, not even caring about taking anything off, and scooted under the covers, falling asleep almost instantly. I looked at Dean, who was currently crawling under his covers, and I smiled. He looked like an oversized toddler. I quickly grabbed a few clothes from my duffel and went to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. When I returned to the main room, the lights were off, and it was cold – I hadn’t noticed it before, when I was fully clothed, but now, my nipples were rock-hard, and I had goosebumps everywhere. I shivered and quickly scooted myself on to the couch, springs poking me in odd places, and pulled a scratchy blanket over my body. It didn’t provide much heat, and soon I was shivering hard and my teeth were clattering – plus, I was really uncomfortable on this small, springy couch.

I heard a groan from the bed closest to me, and the ruffling of covers. “Dude, could you try to lie still?” Deans sleepy voice sounded in the darkness. “You try sleeping on a broken couch in a cold room with a small, scratchy blanket.” I whined. He sighed deeply. “Come on then.” I raised my eyebrows but remembered he couldn’t see it. “Uhm… Why?” I asked cautiously. He groaned. “You’re cold and uncomfortable, I’ve got a somewhat comfy bed, body-heat and non-scratchy blankets. It’s not up for discussion, I don’t want you to catch a cold on my watch.” I heard him shift slightly, and I sighed defeatedly. The thought of body-heat and non-scratchy blankets had me moving over to his bed, and I snaked my body down into the bed, settling nicely in the little space he had created when he moved over. I sighed gently as the warm covers came over me. “Shit, Y/N, did you sleep in a bucket of ice?” He said, when he accidentally touched my feet. I grumbled. If he had a problem, he shouldn’t have invited my cold ass into his warm bed. “Sorry.” I mumbled. He sighed and turned slightly, his arm snaking its way under my pillow and under my head before it wrapped gently around my shoulder and pulled me flush against him. I almost moaned out loud, but I managed to keep my cool; my head was nestled in the crook of his neck, his scent invading every sense I had – like wood, whiskey and just… Dean. His other arm wrapped protectively around my waist, and I couldn’t help myself from tentatively wrapping my own arm around his waist as well and let my other hand rest gently on his warm thigh. He sighed, his breath tickling my forehead, and I smiled gently. This felt oddly like home.

I was almost asleep, when he mumbled something I couldn’t understand, and I felt his soft lips press gently against my forehead, followed by a deep, content sigh.

I could get used to this.

CHAPTER 5

.

TAGLIST: @killerunicorn3, @hobby27, @trustnobodyshootfirst, @mypage-myfandoms

FOREVERLIST: @supernaturalmagicfolk, @redeyedvixen        

(AH, I love you all!) 

[nightly1602]

Destiny Pools (ReWritten Want to keep since it’s not half bad. But totally not part of the story anymore)

Owen had always craved the bitter taste of destiny. She had seen her fair share of it take place as it wove its tricky paths around her elder brothers and sister. She had seen the way their shapes were called to a change as the fair folk tittered around them whispering the promises of fortunes and grand futures.

They had always done this for her family.

A favour given due to the heroics of some ancestor.

When Owen Kilroy watched destiny occur it always made the one in her heart, still waiting to blossom, howl in solitude.

The last one was her brother. Only three years older, he had succumbed to his change as naturally as one could in his situation.

“Leader, revolutionary.” The fair folk had chanted. “King!”

It made her antsy. Why would Riell be given such a destiny? Why would a boy of his age be granted a future with so much possibility and...well adventure?

Now that was what got her heart leaping. All Owen ever wanted was an adventure. To feel the wind in her amber hair, to feel the forest foliage tickle the skin of her gangly limbs as she ran by, to feel the excitement of change and destiny course through her veins and alight her sea-grey eyes. She wanted to hear the fae whisper stories of grand tales forged by her own hands.

Would she slay beasts? Would she scale mountains untouchable by humans? Would she stare death in the eyes and invite it for afternoon tea? Would she win battles that were outnumbered and without her favour?

What destiny would lie upon her?

“It will happen. Patience is a virtue, chrigh.” Her father would murmur as he would watch his children succumb to their destinies. He could see the want in her eyes. He could see her starvation to just be.

His thick Scottish accent would barrel itself into her ears, but she would never make a full understanding as she would watch her siblings.

The day Owen Kilroy first made her acquaintance with destiny, she was only days away from her change.

Her father could sense it. He could see the pacing, the agitation, the curling crisp movement as bone and sinew snapped and rearranged itself.

“Let’s go to the pools.” He had grumbled.

“Farris?!” Her mother snarled. “Ye ken it? They’ll tear her to bits!”

“Cara dinna fash! She’ll be fine. She’s a Kilroy through and through, they daren’t touch a hair in harm.” He snapped. “It’ll ease her. She is having difficulties.” He had whispered into his wife’s ear.

Owen had bristled. Her teeth clenched in a show of baring anger. “I am not having difficulties.”

Cara and Farris both looked to their haggard daughter. She had grown almost two inches in the past month. Her slight frame shook against the shivers of change. It would be soon, they both knew it.

“Don’t be reckless,” Cara warned heavily to her daughter who nodded.

“Aye.” Farris breathed. He clapped a massive hand on to Owen’s shoulder. “Hurry lass, the quicker we get there the better our chances.”

The pools were full to the brim as seawater crashed into the cliff overhang. Soon the tide would be able to hide the rocky openings to these grande underwater caverns. In the local mythos, the pools were where heroes had begun their journeys. It was said that they were the openings to what the sidhe called home. The ones who were either stupid enough or knowing enough only went to the pools when in need of guidance or dire situations. Those like the Kilroys used it for other purposes.

Tonight they would be used for relief.

For the dwellers of the pools, relief was far from the evening’s agenda.

“I’m not going in.” Owen had growled, clutching her abdomen as a sharp pain stabbed its way into her gut. “I can handle another day. I know I’m close Athair.”

“Go in.” He commanded sternly. “Or I’ll drag ye myself and hold you down into the waters until you pass unconscious.” He brought a cigarette to his lips, cupping his hands protectively around it as he lit the end. Smoke curled around him. “Make a decision, lass.”

Water sprayed as angry waves crashed into the rock face. Some of it rolled near her bare ankles as she watched the pool in front of her. It called to her with a pulse. It was then that the melody came it’s way into her sensitive ears. It was a soft harmony that kept in tune with the note of the sea. It urged her making her bare feet twitch in anticipation.

Come forward, pup it whispered to her. Come to our depths. Come to our lair.

She closed her eyes as she rolled up her pant legs. She discarded her heavy canvas jacket and her gray woollen sweater. She rolled the sleeves of her knit black long sleeved t-shirt as she kept eye contact with the pool.

“Resist the urge to stay too long, pup.” Her father warned as he gathered her discarded clothing. “Their calls will likely try to drown you, however, you’ll feel better once you accept it, just don’t clutch it too long. Their magic is dangerous.”

“Aye, athair. Just have my sweater close by. It’s going to be a shivering sight when I come back.” She spat back. “Amathan cac, why in the names am I doing this?” She scoffed to herself.

Traditions were an important thing within the Kilroy family and this was what pushed her onward as she pinched her nose and lept into the dark abyss of the tidal pool.

The coasts of the western Scottish isles have chilling seas. But this was a chill that Owen had never felt before in her entire short life. She had dove straight into the depths. Her body lay suspended where she could not see anything of the evening sky above her or the bottom of the sea cavern below her. Air bubbles loosened themselves from her lips as the cold struck her chest. The feeling of the change had lost itself within the frigid waters. The cavern had been created thousands of year ago with granite and lava stone leaving the pool to also take on pitch darkness. She tried to reach out to catch the sides of the cavern but her fingers could not find the rough bits of rock.

When she felt her lungs burn, she started to hear the movement of water below her. It wasn’t water per say, but the sound of something moving in the water. It wasn’t until she heard the melodic sound of underwater singing that Owen knew she had stayed too long.

She could feel jaws grab at her feet and bottom of her shirt. She tried to swim away from the drag, tried to grab any type of rock face around her to grab a grip, but her luckless self-was surely in play.

She tried to kick at the grips of her draggers when she came face to face with the creature.

It was the most elegant fea she had ever seen. She was familiar with many kinds, had even witnessed wood nymphs dancing during Samhain, but the Sidhe before her was something extraordinary.

It was a creature of feminine features. Its cheekbones were sharper than the rock faces surrounding the cliffs. It had the palest skin that almost seemed like translucent water. Its long brown hair flowed around its floating shape. Its jet black eyes bore into the awed hues of Owen. It wore a sheer white coat that clung to its slim build. Seals surrounded the two figures in the pool, their powerful tails maneuvering to the push and pull of the current in the cavern.

Owen Kilroy, The creature sighed within her mind.  I have been waiting for your arrival.

The creature’s hands cupped Owen’s jaw and drew itself closer to her person. They were chest to chest as the seals around them scattered into different paths. The creature drew closer, her lips faintly touching the teenage girl’s cheeks. Owen’s hands went to the creature’s waist, holding it steady in a daring fashion as she stared it dead in the eyes.

The creature stroked Owen’s fiery hair away to flow around her like that of the creature.

It has been a while since a wolf has come to my pools.  The creature chuckled.  I am Nia the Selkie whose territory you have entered.

The melody in Owen’s ears grew stronger and more enticing as it wound its way around her body. She hadn’t realized that the song belonged to Nia as the selkie pressed its blue-tinted lips against her jawline. She hadn’t realized she was being dragged down until those lips connected with hers.

Your shift is near. Nia purred into her mind as it hungrily kissed Owen. You will be so respected among your peers. Your strength screams immeasurable ability. You will be the downfall and the beginning of your kind. But if only you are cunning enough to escape me, pup. The selkie chuckled as teeth gently clamped around Owen’s lower lip.

The girl could feel her consciousness slipping. She hadn’t realized how long she had been in the pools. Not with the pain of her change gone to remind her of time. Not with the blackness of the pool.

Time simply did not exist when she was numb and hypnotized by the intriguing creature and its song.

Your brother was almost my new mate. The selkie sang. He almost gave me my coat until he recognized the signs of my kind. What a gentle soul. If you survive this trial you should bring him back to me, pup. Maybe you can be my new mate.

The kiss became more frantic and hungry once Owen felt the slipperiness of algae and rock at the bottoms of her feet. Seaweed wrapped itself around her ankles and midsection. Panic was long gone as her fingers dug deeply into the waist of the purring selkie. The song was now deafening as it wove its way into her mind blinding her to the fact that she was being kept stationary from the currents and from escape to the clutching weeds.

Darkness came ever closer as the last air bubbles escaped her lips. She began to move limply as the currents battered her body more roughly.

A little while longer, pup. The selkie sighed as it broke the kiss. It’s webbed thumbs drew long circles into her cheeks as it watched her eyes begin to slowly close.

A rush of water made the selkie hiss in fear.

Owen blinked slowly as the selkie disappeared, leaving her floating amongst the weeds.The song was no longer screaming in her ears but now a distant whisper.

She clung to the last millimetre of her mind as she looked to the disturbance that caused the selkie to flee.

If Owen hadn’t paid attention to the stories of her father, she would have been extremely confused as to why a dark horse was now swimming to her.

With the last bit of consciousness she had, she gave a great grin. She had succeeded in her mission. Then blackness took over her as the water horse swam closer.

She awoke to the smell of brine and decaying seaweed. She coughed up seawater as she rolled onto her stomach. Her clothing clung to her frame reminding her of how cold the waters were.

“Ah finally.” A calm voice breathed. “The young pup awakens. You Kilroys really need to come up with better family traditions. One of these days one of us is going to get lazy and leave you to the mercy of the selkies.” The womanish figure chuckled. “Aye, I guess you get to ensure if you have the fae blessing, but I mean it is quite risky. One of these days it will run out.”

Owen coughed again before she rose with a cocksure grin. “My athair says never to thank your kind, but I must say I do appreciate your services. I was sure I was a goner. The selkie was quite the songstress.”

“Aye, they didn’t go easy on ye, Owen Kilroy.” The woman rose an eyebrow at the teenager. She was sitting cross-legged on to the rocky shore. She was a burly woman with wide-set shoulders. Her wavy green hair gathered near her shoulder blades. Seaweed covered her dark mud tinted skin. Her yellow eyes focused on the drenched teenager with a serious curiosity. A crown of starfish and coral lay upon her head.

“I should probably be giving you a bit more respect than I am giving currently, right, my majesty?” Owen bowed her head. “I’m surprised to be granted the blessing by the Queen of the Ao Sidhe herself.”

“There is a reason for that, pup. You and I share a path. I will be needing your services and I thought it best to introduce myself now before other paths begin.” She explained.

“What kind of services?” Owen rested a hand on her hip as the other pushed her salt-soaked hair out from her eyes.

“You will be my personal champion. I will call upon you and you will do as ordered. Two queens working for the same goal. We will have the fate of our species on our shoulders. We must have an allyship.”

“Two queens?” Owen asked perplexed. “I don’t mean to be rude, your majesty, but I’m no queen. Aye, I do have power trips at times, but a queen? To who? As far as I know, my kind don’t quite enjoy having a monarchy. In fact, if my father has the right history texts I���m sure my kind tore apart the last monarch. To be honest my species are at peace. Why claim something I don’t truly want?”

“As I’ve said, pup, our paths are crossed, and you are destined to lead your species forward. Your brother Riell will help bring a pack together and they will follow you. But for now, to ensure our survival we must work together. We have quite the dangers ahead of us. Now we don’t have much time left. Your change will be in a few short days. We will talk again once you have finished your ritual.”

“Wait, I have so many questions!” Owen exclaimed.

“In due time. First, you must awake and survive the selkie. You are close to drowning.” The queen explained.

“Wait, what?”

Before Owen could get a reply, her eyes flashed open once again. Her chest felt heavy as she broke from unconsciousness. Seals circled her as their songs meandered there way into her eardrums. Their beautiful white seal skins almost looked like nimbus clouds in a dark night sky.

Owen gave a quick turn about to ensure her surroundings before she began her ascent. The seals followed her. The nipped at her exposed skin. One dug its teeth straight into her exposed hip bones. She ignored them as she swam upward, kicking her legs to propel her forward.

She breached the service, clawing at the rocky opening. She gave a great gasp of air as she pulled herself up. A seal grabbed at the bottom of her pant leg trying to drag her back, but she kicked it off, snapping her heel into its snout.

She exited the pool, heaving her chest as she caught her breath. Her father rushed to her wrapping a towel around her body as she rested on her hands and knees.

The kelpies continued their songs, trying to coax her back into the pool.

“Who came to you?” He asked curiously, rubbing circles on her back.

“We need a family meeting.” Owen coughed, ignoring her father. “We need to prepare.”

They stared at each other, their grey eyes focused in an unspoken conversation.

“Get me out of here. They are becoming too tempting, Athair.” Owen complained closing her eyes in concentration. “We can talk on the way home, just get me the hells out of here.”

[erincardenthailandblog]

Bali, Indonesia

From Laos Sam and I flew to Bali, Indonesia, the third and final country I visited during my summer holiday. We stayed in Ubud, a town located in the north of Bali and known for its traditional crafts and dance. Beautiful Hindu temples and shrines surround Ubud. There is an extraordinary variety of ornamental woodwork and carvings. During my stay in Ubud I saw a lot of carved mythical figures- lions, horses, cats, humans, ornate panels, doors, and windows. Hundreds of carvings and wooden art line the narrow, winding roads.  

We stayed in a beautiful hotel garden called Puri Garden, which got its name from the fact that it was quite literally a garden. From our room we had to walk through the garden and along a walkway made with stone slabs placed on top of dirt in order to exit the hotel. I liked Puri Garden because of the garden but also because it proved to be a hotel that represented the authentic spirit of Bali for it was decorated with magnificent Balinese statues. Every door of every room was wooden and decorated with ornate, gilded designs.

Our first day in Bali began with an accidental purchase of colored SPF chap stick. Sam and I entered an Xtra Mart looking for sunscreen when we spotted the chap stick. During my last visit to the beach in Koh Phagnan my lips got terribly burned by the sun and so although the chap stick was unusually expensive, we both thought it a wise purchase. When I took the cap off to apply the chap stick I saw that the stick was blue but thought nothing of it. Then, as I put it on, I watched Sam’s eyes widen and her face break into an enormous grin as she exclaimed laughing, “oh my god.” As she said that I knew I had just smeared bright blue chap stick all over my lips. Sam opened hers and found that hers was yellow. She reassured me that at least mine was “cool.” It could potentially “look good” whereas her yellow chap stick made it look like she had “just finished puking.”

Our second day in Bali was spent visiting Monkey Forest, a nature reserve and Hindu temple complex where hundreds of monkeys live. It was incredible how physically close we were to them. The babies were indescribably adorable. Some looked like they were only a few days old. At first Sam and I were freaked out. The monkeys are so used to people that they have no problem jumping on you at any given moment. Half the time I felt as if I were trapped in a Planet of the Apes movie. There were a few stalls selling bananas. People were meant to buy the bananas and hold them up to their shoulder so that the monkeys would perch on them and eat the banana. I bought a banana and experienced it for myself. I envisioned a cute little monkey climbing up my leg, hopping on my shoulder and munching on the banana. It wasn’t as I imagined at all. It was terrifying. The monkeys were fast as lightening. The entire thing lasted about five seconds. One second I had a banana in my hand, and the next thing I know a monkey is flying out of a tree, landing on my head, grabbing fistfuls of my hair, and snatching the banana out of my hand. I closed my eyes the entire time. When I opened them the monkey was gone. One of the women who sold us the bananas took pictures of us. In all of the photographs we’re shielding our faces as if under attack. In one photograph you can see the monkey pulling my hair. I want to frame this picture. It is definitely one of the best photographs of all time.

On our third day in Bali Sam and I went to Pandawa Beach, a beach about 1.5 hours away from Ubud, and which was hidden behind large limestone cliffs. These cliffs are unique because they’re installed with deeply carved arches that hold 6 large statues draped in colorful Balinese cloth.  Each statue depicts hero characters from the Hidu epic story “The five Pandavas.” Along the beach local stalls sold snacks, grilled seafood, local cuisine, sandwiches, burgers, and drinks. The sand was white and the water, although very shallow, was a striking combination of both blue and green. We found a perfect little spot to spend the afternoon, a bar with beanbag chairs and a sun umbrella. We laid out, looking at the blue green water, and dug our toes into the soft sand.

After spending several hours at the beach bar Sam and I decided to change locations in search of some deeper water so that we could swim. As we started walking down the beach we saw hundreds of teenagers, all fully clothed in various matching colored shirts, which made it seem like they were all on some sort of school trip. What would have been a five minute walk turned into a thirty-five minute walk. We could not walk for longer than one minute without getting stopped to have our photograph taken. A group of seventeen-year-old girls asked if they could speak to us and filmed our conversation. At first I was somewhat annoyed by all the attention, these swarms of students felt like paparazzi, and I wanted to enjoy my day at the beach without feeling like a zoo animal. But after meeting these sweet girls I was quiet flattered and charmed by their politeness and eagerness to speak English with us. They told us that they were not from Bali, but from another part of Indonesia, which made perfect sense because Bali is extremely touristy and if these students had been from Bali they would not have been so amazed to see foreigners.

To put it lightly, Sam and I had a very hard time leaving the beach. Around 5 pm we decided it was time to leave and find somewhere to have dinner. We walked to the entrance of the beach, which was a fifteen-minute walk up a steep, windy road, in order to call a taxi because we didn’t have cell phone service near the water. After waiting twenty minutes the taxi cancelled. By this time the sun had set and so we decided to walk back down to the beach to see if there might be a taxi there, or if someone could help us call one. It was dark and there were no streetlights along the road and so it was quite scary walking down because we were afraid of getting hit by one of the many motorbikes and cars speeding past us. When we finally reached the beach area we found that there were no taxis. In fact, there were no people at all. The hundreds of students that we had seen only an hour ago were all gone. All the shops had locked up their gates and turned off their lights. It was as if the entire area was evacuated. It was spooky. Thankfully there was one security guard who we asked to call us a taxi but he spoke hardly any English and so it took some time trying to communicate to him that we needed help. We showed him that we didn’t have service on our cell phones and we needed to get back to our hotel. Eventually he understood what we had asked of him but when he called the taxi dispatcher he told us there were no taxis. “What do you mean there are no taxis?” We asked. “We have to get back to our hotel. How can we get back to our hotel? How do we leave?” We didn’t understand why he couldn’t find a taxi for us. It was only 7 pm! It was clear that we were concerned but the guard just looked at us and laughed, not a genuine laugh, but an unsettling, suspicious, malignant laugh. He gave me the creeps. He wasn’t taking us seriously at all. All of a sudden I pictured the end of our life. This man was going to kill us. There we were, stuck on a deserted beach on the southernmost tip of Bali, standing in the dark with no cell phone service and no where to run to, with a man who told us we could not leave. Wonderful. At this point the panic was starting to kick in so I kneeled over and pretended I was sick. I clutched my stomach and pleaded, “Please. Taxi. Sick.” At this point the guard seemed to register my “pain” and chuckled, “okay okay” as he proceeded to make another call. I prayed he was calling a taxi to come to our rescue. After exchanging a few words in Indonesian, the guard ended the call and told us to sit and wait for twenty minutes. “Taxi?” We asked. “No taxi.” He told us. “My friend.”

I did not sit. I paced back and forth in the dark and exchanged worried looks with Sam. Obliviously we had both been raised with the rule to “never get in a car with a stranger” but this seemed to be our only option to escape the beach and the creepy guard. Soon a mini van arrived and we got in. The driver didn’t speak any English but we gestured to him to drive straight ahead just so that we could gain cellphone service again and use our GPS. As we sped up the mountain, out of the darkness and onto the road lit by traffic lights, a wave of relief passed through my body. We soon gained cellphone service and used Sam’s Google maps to tell the driver to drop us off at the nearest hotel. We decided we wanted to get out of the car as soon as possible and we were sure the hotel would help us call a legitimate taxi. The entire ride lasted only five minutes but we paid almost an equivalent of $10.00. We didn’t care. We were just happy to be alive.

Our last day in Bali was spent taking in breath taking views and embarking on an awfully terrifying biking tour. The beginning of the day started off wonderfully. First we drove about thirty minutes north of Ubud to Tegallalang Rice Terraces, famous cliffs of expansive, lush, rice terraces. I have lived for nine months now in rice field heaven, and while Thailand is scattered with flat rice paddies, Ubud is surrounded by rice terraces, which gave me a new perspective on the beauty of rice farming. After visiting the rice terraces we went to a coffee plantation called Teba Sari where we learned about Kopi Luwak, otherwise known as “cat poo” coffee. This is how “cat poo” coffee is made: A civet cat (a small cat native to tropical areas of Asia and Africa) eats these coffee beans found in the wild, and then poops the beans out. It’s that simple. Locals collect the poop, wash it, and then clean and dry it. An outer skin covers every coffee bean. When the beans are dry, locals pound them together to break off the outer layer. After this the beans are removed, dry roasted, and viola, they’re ready to be brewed. After learning about this miraculous, though slightly disgusting gourmet coffee, we were invited to sit down around a large wooden table under a thatched roof. We were then served numerous small cups filled with a variety of tea and coffee. I tried lemon tea, lemongrass tea, Balinese coffee, and vanilla and coconut coffee. My favorite was the vanilla coffee. After the tasting we were taken to a restaurant for breakfast. The restaurant was located along the edge of a mountain that offered a panoramic overlook of the glorious rice terraces and majestic mountains. It was definitely the best view I had ever had while enjoying a meal. It was as if I was staring at a painting.

After breakfast our bike tour began. I didn’t like the tour for these reasons.

1. The bikes were old, damaged, and falling apart. I was sure the bike was going to break into pieces as I was riding it.

2. The biking was down steep hills that were poorly paved so I was afraid I was going to hit a bump or one of the wheels was going to get stuck in a pot hole and I would fly off the handle bars.

3.The tour guide led us down a tiny dirt “path” that was filled with deep craters. I almost fell of my bike twice. I don’t understand why this was part of the tour. It was so clearly dangerous.

4. There was absolutely no warning about the type of biking this tour entailed. The tour was advertised for “beginner bikers” and yet this was not biking for beginners. This was race down steep hills while dogging craters and potholes and pray for your life kind of biking.

5. We didn’t stop enough during the tour. It was a beautiful ride but everything whizzed completely past me. I couldn’t appreciate the beauty we were riding through because I was so stressed out about the fact that I could die any second.  

6. The bike didn’t fit me. I had to reach way too far in order for my hands to touch the handlebars. It gave me horrible back pain and riding through the potholes killed my butt. I could hardly walk once the tour was over.

One of my favorite and most memorable experiences in Bali was visiting Tirta Empul Temple, otherwise known as the Holy Water Temple. The temple is dedicated to Vishnu, the Hindu god of water. It is both a temple and a bathing structure that is famous for its spring water. Balinese Hindus go to Tirta Empul for ritual purification because it is believed that the spring water is holy. There are 30 waterspouts that feed into one large pool of water. You are meant to dip your head under each spout. Once you “cleanse” yourself under the first spout you move to the second spout and so on. You are meant to continue this process until you have cleansed yourself under each of the 30 waterspouts.

I took part in the cleansing ritual. I changed into a green sarong and slipped into the cool water. I dipped my head under the gushing waterspout, closed my eyes, and counted my blessings.

[nanowrimo]

Working Through the Worry: The Miracle of Composing a Collaborative Novel

In addition to the main NaNoWriMo and Camp events each year, NaNoWriMo provides free creative writing resources to educators and young participants around the world through our Young Writers Program. Today, educator Nick Kleese shares the success story of his class:

The first tears of our class novel came on the second day of writing. I remember: I was kneeling beside a desk, squinting at the laptop screen bright with the white glare of the early morning sun, attempting to guide a student through writer’s block. “What else could there be to write about?” the student demanded, nearly shaking with frustration.

I rambled for a moment, brainstorming through my own tired, foggy thoughts, before noticing the heaving beside me. I looked up from the screen and saw a face flushing red and eyes swimming with a writerly angst that was both very real and very unexpected.

Now, this is my first year teaching high school, and I’ve become good friends with anxiety and fear and their cousin: that feeling of I-have-no-idea-what-I’m-doing. I’m good friends, too, associatively, with existential despair. 

Regardless, I have hope. I’ve gone back to my hometown, and I am comforted by its familiar, sprawling cornfields and calloused hands. As a farm kid, I see myself in my students: some, I know, will attend four year schools and then scatter. Many will opt for technical or vocational two-year programs to become certified welders, truckers, cosmetologists, administrative assistants. Others still will head straight to work, which, in my hometown, is a decision celebrated for its innate devotion to the art of work itself. Despite the initial emotional upheaval, I believed NaNoWriMo’s tangible--albeit lofty--goal would well suit my students’ pragmatism. I knew I could lean on my students’ proud diligence to get them through writing an entire novel--even if they believed writing wasn’t, as they put it politely, for them.

Our process, depending on the observer’s disposition and pedagogical beliefs, was either vibrant and bustling, or chaotic and terrifying. We spent the first few days frantically studying novel structure and character development, then two more days planning our own. I’d dug out a long, dusty scroll of white paper from the school’s storage closet and had it unrolled across the white board. We tacked it up, as a class, and drew Freytag’s Triangle long and uneven across it.

“Okay,” I said, turning to my apprehensive class standing with me. “What should we write?”

My students understood that, frankly, I had no idea how the novel would turn out. In my mind, we would plot the story in detail on the scroll, then divide it into twenty-some parts--one for each student to write. The students would meet with those whose parts came directly before and after theirs to discuss transition points, contemplate continuity issues, and debate the project’s potential to flop. My room became a hodgepodge of notes and diagrams and character sketches and spilled coffee grounds and chatting students who were wary, confused, frazzled, but willing to work.

“By positioning myself at desk-level, student level, the project became less about learning concepts and more about practicing, collaborating, and creating.” 

We worked nearly every day for a month. I’d write, too. My youth and scrawny frame helped me blend in--so much so that when the Dean of Students would enter with a clipboard of truancies, he’d stop, glance around, and ask, “Where’s Kleese?” The students would point me out among the desks, hunched over, typing away, perhaps only distinguishable from them by my coffee-spotted earthenware mug and tie.

By positioning myself at desk-level, student level, the project became less about learning concepts and more about practicing, collaborating, and creating. Voices would call across the room, directed at a peer or me or everyone, asking: “How do I punctuate dialogue?” “What if I want the ‘he said’ to come before the words?” “Where do I break paragraphs?” “What’s a synonym for ‘blue?’” Sometimes I would answer, and sometimes a student would beat me to a response. In this way, the novel not only forced students to ask authentic, necessary questions as writers (ones that I could only dream of being asked otherwise), but it also revealed writing’s vastly different meanings and challenges for each individual student. Some struggled to punctuate a sentence. Some were behind, as they worked a full time job outside of school. Others volunteered to spend their class time helping others. All wanted deeply to write the damn thing and to make it good.

Despite these differences, however, I would, at times, find my attention drifting during class, away from the novel and its hiccups and its chaos to the miracle around me. Everyday, in face of the difficulties and drama and anxieties that exist outside of my classroom, students showed up to write. Farm boys and doctor’s daughters, athletes and English Learners, artists and mechanics all sweat and cried (no bleeding, that I’m aware of) over a story about a teenager who redefines home. In a year marked by division and worry and uncertainty, I found affirmation in the spectacle manifesting daily in my classroom.

We wrote the damn novel. And, because we did, I have hope.

Nick Kleese is a first-year Creative Writing teacher at his alma mater of Washington High School in Washington, IA, where he also serves as the head Speech coach. If not in the classroom, you can find him helping on his family’s farm or running the crushed limestone trails of the Southeast Iowa prairie. He is currently working to transform his youthful naiveté into lifelong, sustainable optimism.

Washington High School is the local high school serving the farming community of Washington, Iowa, whose vision is to “prepare students for lifelong learning” by engaging, inspiring, and empowering every student.

Top photo by Flicker user Informedmag.

[sj-penner]

The Catacombs [Parts 1-7]

There was no earthquake when it appeared. No red moon, or solar flare marked its arrival, or to portent the tragedies to come. It didn’t rise organically either; there was no inch by inch progression of measurable progress. It was not there, and then one day, it was.

No one seemed to notice the change, none of the locals anyways. The farmer who owned the field just harvested around it, the neighbors saw nothing odd about the black obelisk thrusting from the golden wheat into the azure prairie sky. It hadn’t always been, but now it was and in the tradition of stolid farming folk, they just continued with the yearly cycles of planting and plucking.

It was a tourist, of course, who drew the worlds attention. One badly lit photo on the world wide web, and the tiny town of Rosmire was suddenly inundated with the curious, the conspiracy seekers, and the bored. Campsites were filled for months, the tiny town inn’s prices jumping to compete with the most luxurious New York city hotels for their lovely view of Sally the cow, and their decade old comforters.

The government ignored the obvious hoax. Lawmakers, scientists, and military men had far more important things to deal with than some silly tourist attraction.

Or they did, until Leo Morrison disappeared.

[Specimen 1.002 Obituary obtained from the Rosmire Daily Tribune]

Leonard Albrecht Morrison (August 2, 1989 — August 2, 2007)

Leo was a beloved son, adored brother, and admired classmate. His curious nature and enthusiastic smile will always be remembered by those who knew him.

Leo was born and raised in Rosmire, and was always front and centre for every event and festival. Even as a child he was always with his mother or father, carrying loads of baked goods to a sale, or handing up a hammer during a barn raising. As he got older he only grew more generous, always happy to lend a hand to anyone who needed it.

Head of the Rosmire Art Club, Leo’s talent will grace the walls of the community center for years to come, as well as the homes of many of our citizens. He was always searching for new inspiration, and often found it in the strangest places. A number of Leo’s paintings have been donated by his parents to be auctioned off, the proceeds going to fund the continuation of the club Leo began four years ago. He is painting for God now.

The funeral will be held this Saturday, September 23rd, 2007 at 1pm. The Morrison family welcomes all to join in remembering this wonderful young man, celebrating his life and his reunion with his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Leo Morrison disappeared on August 2, 2007. A massive search was staged, most of the town turning up for the grid search. Local police were stumped. The boy had been low risk, friendly, with no priors or known disagreements with anyone in town. He was single, a loving brother, and deeply involved in the community.

Weeks went by with no sign of the boy, dead or alive. The town grieved, but as they had done with the appearance of the obelisk, they set the disappearance behind them and continued. The harvest waits for no one.

On August 22, 2007, twenty days after Leo’s disappearance, his sister, Hailey, left home one evening and didn’t return. Another man hunt, another failure. The distraught parents begged the police to do more, to do anything to help bring their children back. Stumped, the locals called in the feds, and a pair of black cars, newer than anyone in town was likely to see again, rolled in on August 31, 2007.

Why the government sent four agents to look into two missing, rural kids, I couldn’t tell you. My clearance isn’t high enough to get more than the broad strokes of the story. They came though, and they dug through the town like a fine tooth comb, pulling up every disagreement, disturbance, and grudge.

And finally, two weeks after their arrival, they pulled up a secret. Leslie Twilling, the Morrison girl’s best friend, confessed. Hailey had called her the night before her disappearance, desperate and barely coherent. She had sent her brother to the obelisk. She had asked him to paint it, something beautiful and unique for her when she left for university the next semester. He’d agreed, gathered up his paints, and never been seen again.

The recording of the interview is confusing, full of teenage tears and fumbling confusion.

The obelisk had taken him. She repeated it, just like Hailey was to have done on that last phone call. It took him and she had to go take him back.

She couldn’t answer why she had waited so long to come forward, why Hailey had kept the information from the local police. She died three weeks later, hanging herself in the local jail where she was being held for the murder. Her story made no sense, the locals had argued with the feds. She had to be involved somehow.

No one had understood what she was talking about, then. How could some random protruding rock take a boy? It would be years before the first expedition into the Catacombs, and even after all this time, the mystery of how Leo and Hailey Morrison entered is unsolved. Hailey’s body was recovered by the thirteenth expedition, in area I-431. Leo has never been found.

My name is Anna. I am the lead linguist on the thirty sixth expedition into the Catacombs. I have a PhD in comparative linguistics, focusing on cultural cyphers. That basically means I’m good at figuring out what people are trying to not to say, even if I can’t read the language.

My husband was killed in action in another one of those stupid wars begun by stupider people with no right to throw men at their personal problems. My parents died when I was 22 in a car accident that left me alone in the world with my younger brother. Caleb and I had never gotten along, and it’s been six years since the last text he sent me.

All it said was ‘Fuck off’.

You don’t apply for the expeditions. You’re invited by men in dark suits and dark cars. They pluck you from your life and you disappear from the world, not a ripple left to show you’d been there. Not that it would have been hard, in my case. I hadn’t really been anywhere, anyways.

They’d tossed me in a room, the walls covered in papers, photos, and sketches. I had a pencil and a notepad. I guess the conclusions I came to about the various signs and sigils impressed someone because less than two hours later I had security clearance the Vice President wouldn’t sneeze at, and an apartment on campus that was twice as big as the one I hadn’t made it home to.

It was a kind of anxiety fueled blur. I asked, later, why I was never interviewed. The security guard just rolled his eyes. I guess it was a kind of stupid question. Anyone who could erase someones entire existence could have found all of my skeletons with a click of a button.

Not that I had many. Really, as far as I could tell, I was the perfect candidate. No real family, few friends, no permanent job, young enough to handle the rigors and trials down in the darkness. No problems with drugs or alcohol, no history of criminal activity or violence.

In return they offered me puzzles; languages and locks that no one else had ever seen, cultures that had never seen the light of day.

How could I have said no?

I should have said no.

Training was horrendous. I’d always been a bit of a couch potato and the next six months would put military basic training to shame. All electronics were removed from us aside from government assigned laptops and phones. We were cut off from the world, physically, electronically, and emotionally.

Somewhere between four and six every morning we were woken in a variety of horrible ways. Ice water dumped across the bunks, a screaming mad man rushing into the room with a shotgun and a ladle, the drill sergeant whispering terrifying, pointed things in our ears. That last one was the worst, and it left me with the feeling of cockroaches beneath my skin for a week.

As soon as we were awake and dressed in the identical uniforms the real work began. Running endless laps around the complex, up stairs, over desks, and even at one point right through the olympic sized pool. Calistetics that made my muscles scream day in and day out. Stress tests that I can’t bring myself to write about, even now.

Food was the same, everyday. A breakfast of some sort of high protein mush, a lunch of the same, and a dinner of a casserole of unknown origin. I have never wanted a chocolate bar so badly in my life. I would have killed from one, some days, especially if I could choose the drill sergeant as my victim. She was five foot two, a hundred and sixty pounds of insults and muscle. I never learned her name, and I doubt she bothered to learn mine. I was ‘Maggot’, ‘Twig Girl’, or, if she was feeling particularly friendly, ‘Trainee Y-229’.

The only thing that kept me moving, that kept any of us moving, was the evening classes. Handed over from the sergeant to one of a variety of nameless lieutenants, we spent our evenings in various labs, classrooms, and other odd set ups. We were all trained in the basics of all the disciplines; surveying, archeology, psychology, linguistics, along with others that I’m not sure I have a name for. After an hour or two of cramming new knowledge into every line and bump of my brain, we split up into our specialties.

I had been hired as the lead of the linguistics team, seven wildly unlikely but enthusiastic academics all thrilled by the puzzles set in front of us every day. The training here was less like a class, and more like a series of literary labyrinths. Codes in languages I’d rarely seen, or symbols I knew had never existed outside of the designers mind.

Every day my body and mind grew stronger, and as much as I hated each wretched day, even now I would never take it back.

If I had thought the training was bad, the run of necessary vaccinations taught me new levels of pain and existential terror. Hallucinations will do that to you. Almost two months in, when our bodies were stronger and we were beginning to think we understood what we were being prepped for — we weren’t, but we all thought we were — they began to call us from our breakfasts into the medical center.

At first it was blood tests, urine samples, fecals, the typical diagnostic tools. We were sent back to training without another word, grateful for the respite.

The next day seven of our number were gone.

When we asked we were told they had been deemed incompatible with the mission, and for their safety and ours, had been removed from the program. We didn’t really think much of it. It was surprising, and those of us who remained were motivated now. We hadn’t realized we were still within the trials.

A week passed with no further incidents before we were brought back to the medical bay. Six injections along the left forearm, three along the right thigh. I heard screaming down the hall, and the sound of retching. I’ve always had a high pain tolerance.

The next day when we were called to the medical bay again, it was a journey made with reluctance. Our arms and legs were swollen and varying shades of purples, greens, and blues. Tapestries of bruised and battered fleshed from nothing more than pinpricks.

Two weeks of torture, of syringes, bandages, and bruising. Limbs swollen like maggots, and fevers that left you soaked and reading of sweat. Twelve people left. Or, at least we were told they left. They might have died. I’m pretty sure I almost did, after the ‘spinal tap’, which I’m almost positive was another injection.

As abruptly as the daily trips to the white coats began, they ended. Without a word or warning we were woken by six thousand live rats released in our dorms.

Back to normal.

After the disappearance of the Morrison kids, the federal government took a serious look into the situation in Rosmire. Rural disappearances are common enough, though tragic. Runaways, murders, kidnappings, accidents; anything that can happen in a city can happen in a small town. As harsh as it may sound, the government simply doesn’t have time to deal with little things like that.

Panic though, that is something the government takes very seriously. With the recent influx in tourists to the town, and the leaking rumors of the obelisks involvement in the disappearances, there was a real chance of a serious national incident. Paranoia can grow out of the smallest seeds, gossip and rumors can cross the world in moments now, spread by man made webs and whispers.

The last thing a government already wrapped up in two wars and multiple other international efforts was some panic about supernatural towers claiming the lives of kids. There are procedures for situations like this; hazards not so much in the object or person themselves, but in the publics reaction to it. Mob mentality can kill hundreds, cause millions in damage. True national panic is even more costly.

So less than a day after Twilling’s confession she was taken away by federal agents, and Fred Aster’s farm was quarantined, the entire thing wrapped in yellow tape and crawling with men with big guns. The best way to sooth the publics worry is to show that it’s being taken seriously.

Security theatre, they call it. Getting on an airplane and having your tweezers confiscated, needing six types of identification to cross a border, we’ve all dealt with it. The fear of horrible events that happened to someone else happening to us…well, the government is quick to make sure you think they are dealing with it, and swiftly.

In most of these cases the theater is all there is to it; it’s rare that it actually changes anything. The first woman to enter the catacombs willingly changed that. Rosmire is no longer a small town, lost in an ocean of wheat. Area X2291: Rosmire, is a black site. There are road blocks, fences, and regular patrols 50 miles out from what used to be the Obelisk. The old inn holds the military big wigs, the homes retrofitted into barracks and storage areas. A training facility grew within and finally out and around the old community center. I learned to shoot a gun in what used to be a hockey rink.

Rosmire was once a quiet town where a boy disappeared. Now, it’s a living graveyard, full of people waiting to walk right into the gaping maw of death.

This is a serial story updated once per day. You can keep up with the daily updates here, on my Medium series of the same name, on my Wattpad account, or on my blog.