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callsignspark · 8 months ago

Text

change your ticket home

a top gun maverick AU

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Sherrie McHone (fem!OC)

summary: After a successful business trip on the West Coast, two Wells Corporation engineers have problems getting back home. Thank god for Bradley Bradshaw, a man who is determined to make their hours waiting in the terminal as enjoyable as possible. And if he and his pretty travel companion (and colleague) get closer along the way? Well that’s just a bonus.

warnings: difficulties of being a woman in a male-dominated field, minor misogyny from coworkers, yearning, pining, Bradley being an absolute sweetheart, it's vaguely alluded to but Sherrie is named after the Steve Perry song, American Airlines bashing bc this fic is based on a real and horrible experience I had a few years ago. and yes, the title is from the one direction song.

word count: 9.8k | masterlist

note: happy saturday! this has been in the works for almost a year and I'm so thrilled to finally be sharing it! this is dedicated to @gretagerwigsmuse, who gave so many wonderful ideas and has continually been a cheerleader for this fic. happy birthday!

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 06:36 AM PST | San Diego, CA

“If I fake a heart attack, we can get out of this meeting, right?”

She looks over at Bradley sprawled in the uncomfortable café chair in his navy suit, his arm slung over the back of her chair. He’s down to just his crisp, white button-up, jacket, and tie abandoned within the first ten minutes of the call.

“Suck it up, we’re almost done.” She rolls her eyes. “And Martin knows you’re a supremely healthy thirty-two-year-old, so no, I don’t think that will work.”

“Sherrie…” His whine is cut off by her hand covering his mouth as she unmutes her microphone and mentally praises his decision to sit so close to her. Not having to pull out both laptops was just an additional perk on top of her ability to silence him.

“That’s correct, Sean. We got them to agree to a small batch trail run for the connectors. We’ll be working together on running them through environmental testing before committing to a full contract.”

“And why are they agreeing to that? Because frankly, it makes no sense to me why they would want to do that.”

Bradley straightens up, his eyes narrowing at the Teams box showing the older man’s initials. “Well, Sean, as Sherrie explained before. Harris hasn’t produced connectors like this before, and they’re interested in the test results, specifically the shock data. So they agreed to take on half the burden so they can use the information for their own use. If this works how we think it will, this will be a huge boost for their business, even if the patent is shared.”

She looks at him, half admonishment and half appreciation, always a little bit amazed when he had her back, no matter how many times he had done it. “The contracts team is drawing up the final agreements and negotiating with their team next week, so best case scenario is we have reports with usable data by the end of the summer. Worst case, it’ll drift into the middle of Q1.”

“That’s great work you guys did out there, thank you. Alright, I think that covers everything we had to talk about today. McHone, Bradshaw - have a safe flight back, and everyone have a good weekend!” Martin ends the call before anyone can add anything.

Bradley laughs. “God, he’s just as sick of Sean as I am. I can’t wait until he retires.”

“He’s not that bad; you’re just grumpy because you had to dress up for the staff meeting, and then Martin said cameras off today.”

“I am upset about that! I will be logging yet another suggestion that we should have casual Fridays and casual travel policy. But I’m more upset because he talks down to you all the time! Like you haven’t been carrying this department on your back since we started ten years ago!”

“Carrying is an exaggeration, Bradley.” She looks up from where she’s putting her laptop away. “I think you have time to change into something comfy before we board.”

“American Airlines Flight 2307 from San Diego to Charlotte, Boarding Group A can now board.”

“Or not.” She giggles as he groans, reaching over to pull her other air pod out of his ear. “Come on, it’s a long flight; you can sleep on the plane. Just be thankful you’re not wearing an underwire bra and heels.”

“I don’t know how you do that.” He mutters, shooing her away when she tries to pick up her carry-on, throwing it over his shoulder alongside his own.

“I don’t either. I’m going to get a massage when we get back to Boston.”

“Ohhh, a massage sounds nice.” He subtly sticks his elbow out for her grab, which she gratefully does, letting his tall frame guide her to their gate. “You know you didn’t have to wear heels, right?”

“You should shut up while I’m still thankful you yelled at Sean for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sherrie leans her head on his arm as they wait in the priority boarding line, one of the perks of traveling on the company’s dime. Normally, she would worry about being more professional while carrying her work bag that had the Wells Corporation logo embroidered on it, but she can’t bring herself to care. Yesterday’s meetings ran late, and the following client dinner had kept them out until almost midnight. After packing, going to bed late, and having to get up at 3:30AM to get to the airport, she was exhausted.

She takes her bag before they scan their tickets, not fighting when he grabs it again on their walk down the jet bridge.

“Where are you sitting again?”

“I’m in 16C.” She snorts at Bradley’s pout. “What? You knew we weren’t going to be sitting together.”

“But I’m going to be bored all the way back in 21D by myself.”

“Bud, you’re going to fall asleep in the first 30 minutes like you always do, and then I would be stuck for the next four hours with you leaning and drooling on me.”

Bradley whips his head around, “That is a baseless accusation. I do not drool!”

“You 100% definitely do drool, I’ve seen it.” Her smirk widens when his attempt to fight back is cut off by the flight attendants greeting them.

He ushers Sherrie on first, politely nodding to the flight crew before following her down the aisle, ducking down to whisper. “I do not drool.”

“You absolutely do drool. You also snore.”

She can feel eyes on them as they shuffle down the aisle, making eye contact with an older woman who raises her eyebrows in appreciation at the hunk of a man behind her.

This happens everywhere they go.

Bradley is such a gentleman, always opening doors and carrying her bags, that people never believe the two are just friends and coworkers. She’s had complete strangers fight with her when she says there’s nothing between them. Unable to accept that it’s just platonic.

As much as she wishes it could be more.

After years of learning all the little details of each other, she knows they would be good together. Their decade-long friendship allowing her to thoroughly analyze how well their personalities would mesh. They share the same beliefs and have the same interests; they even have overlapping friend groups. They’re made for each other.

On paper.

In reality, it will never happen.

She won’t let it.

“Is this good here?” Bradley’s question interrupts her weekly internal spiral; his big brown eyes blink at her over his shoulder as he puts her bag into the overhead compartment.

“That’s fine. Can you grab my water bottle out of the side pocket?

“Here ya go, ma’am. I’ll meet you by the water foundation when we land, okay?”

She nods, smiling as he hustles back to his seat to avoid a family almost flattening him in their haste to get to their assigned seats.

Her seat neighbors haven’t arrived yet, so Sherrie sits down without bothering to buckle, tucking her work bag under the row in front of her after pulling out her plane kit. Her pencil case from college that she’s repurposed to hold her headphones, phone charger, gum, hand sanitizer, and a few other small necessities.

Her phone buzzes as she’s storing her water bottle and the little bag away in the pocket of the seat in front of her.

Bradley is woken up by his seat neighbor hitting his arm as he reaches to grab a drink, nodding at the guy’s apologetic face before trying to get comfortable again. Alan talked way too much at dinner last night, and it was a struggle to stay awake during the project manager’s third round of gushing over how brilliant and profitable Sherrie’s proposal would be for both companies.

“Sir? This is for you, do you want it?” The muffled question is accompanied by someone shaking his shoulder. He peels open his eyes to see the flight attendant holding out two packets of Biscoff cookies.

His face must be confused enough for the short woman to take pity on him. “Your friend up there said these are your favorite and asked me to give hers to you.”

His heart warms up, taking the treats and saying thank you. He enjoys the cookies, washing them down with the ginger ale he also got, thinking about how well Sherrie knows him. He forces himself to wait for them to finish snack service before he gets up to use the restroom.

“Thank you.” Bradley revels in the way Sherrie jumps when he pops her headphone out, purposefully brushing his lips against her ear. “Hmmm, you were right, your seatmate is cute.”

She glares up at him, a smile threatening to break through. “Isn’t he? He fell asleep five minutes after take off, just like you.”

“Yet, another baseless accusation!”

“I heard you snoring.”

“You shouldn’t lie in front of small children.”

“His mom said he’s seven months old; I don’t think we have to be concerned about teaching him to lie while he’s still in a car seat.”

“Probably shouldn’t chance it, though. Say I don’t snore.”

“You just said I shouldn’t lie. Should probably go to the bathroom before you start holding up traffic.” She puts her headphone back in, wiggling her fingers at him before going back to reading on her phone.

It gives him the strangest sense of déjà vu.

Tuesday, March 25, 2005 | 10:43 AM EST | Charlottesville, VA

“…and he said you had already-” Bradley cuts himself off, realizing she can’t hear him. He chuckles; he should have known better than to just walk up and start talking.

He doesn’t know Sherrie McHone very well. They had taken all the freshman intro to engineering requirements together, and this year their classes had split into their chosen disciplines. His mechanical, hers electrical. But he knows her well enough to know that she can pretty much only be found without her headphones during class.

He remembers the first time they spoke last semester after he accidentally walked right into her. He had told Danny it’s because she’s so much shorter than him, but it’s really because he wasn't paying attention.

Sherrie had only taken one earpiece out to make sure he was okay before continuing onto her class, seamlessly weaving between upperclassmen as she shoved her headphone back in.

“Sherrie?” No response.

He lets out a tiny huff and checks his watch. Normally, he wouldn’t care that she’s clueless to his existence even as he’s right beside her, but he’s got a class soon, and he’s still two buildings away. So he does the only thing he can.

He pops her headphones out and steps back for fear of getting smacked.

Her head whips up, narrowing in on him freakishly fast. “What the fuck, Bradshaw?”

He’s surprised to learn that she knows his name.

“Sorry, Sherrie! I’ve been trying to talk to you for like five minutes, and you somehow haven’t noticed, but I’ve got class in 15 minutes, so I needed to get your attention.”

“Oh…” Her green eyes widen in surprise, the apples of her cheeks turning a light pink. “Sorry about that. What did you need? Wait. How did you find me?”

A fair question.

“Khondker told me where you sit.” He partially fibs.

All semester he had been watching her disappear after EE221, the one class they shared. It had taken him a while, but he was pretty sure he had found her secret study nook in the electrical engineering wing of the building. Their TA had only confirmed Bradley’s theory of where he could find his fellow sophomore.

“I don’t understand this last section we’ve been learning, and Khondker said you had already finished the homework and could help me. So could you?”

“He didn’t help you?” Sherrie raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

“He tried.” Bradley scratches the back of his head, remembering how frustrated the patient man had been after his third attempt at explaining. “I just really don’t understand circuit loops. And he thought having a classmate explain it to me would make it stick. That or he was just so sick of me, he’s pawning me off.”

He watches her think, her pencil rapidly tapping against her notebook, making him nervous.

“I don’t want to be rude, but if you don’t understand current loops, I’m not sure how much help I can be. I understand the material, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

Her bluntness makes him smile. “I’m not expecting miracles, just help with the homework. If you have time.”

“Okay, just as long as you don’t get your hopes up too much.” She grabs a bright pink notebook and opens it up. “So, I’m usually free-”

“I don't want to interrupt, but I do have to get to class, so could we figure out a time later today?”

“Sure, I’ll be here until my class at four. Feel free to sit down if I’m not here; it just means I’m grabbing food.” He nods, backing away. “Wait! Bradley! Go down this hall and out the side door. You’ll be like halfway there already.”

“Awesome, thanks!” He starts to jog down the hallway, looking back to see her putting her headphones back in. Waving back when she smiles and wiggles her fingers at him before going back to her homework.

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 3:16 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“Our flight got delayed, and I’m hungry.”

Sherrie jumps, not expecting Bradley to get that close to her face three seconds after she exited the bathroom.

“Okay, I could eat. Where do you wan-”

“Auntie Anne’s.”

He’s walking away before she can even process what he said. She allows herself one second to appreciate the way he looks, walking through the concourse - navy slacks fitting his legs perfectly and all their bags thrown over his broad shoulders - before she’s clicking along after him.

“Bradshaw!” He freezes and turns, almost taking a lanky teenager out with her backpack. “Oh my god, Bradley! Be careful! You almost took that kid’s head off.”

His smile is sheepish as she shuffles them over to the wall. “I did not do that on purpose.”

She giggles and takes her backpack from his shoulder. “Yeah, I kinda figured. But you should have seen his face. His life flashed before his eyes. All sixteen years.”

“I can carry that Sherrie.”

“That’s okay, I got it. No! Bradley!”

He ignores her, smiling at her frustrated little stomp when he hands over her tan, cross-body purse out of her work bag. “You just carry that and make sure I don’t take out any toddlers or old ladies.”

“How am I supposed to do that if I’m ahead of you?” She snarks as he steers them toward the food stands.

“You’re smart; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Bradley laughs when she mocks him under her breath. “I can hear you, smartass.”

“You were meant to, Bradley.”

His heart flutters at the teasing wink she sends over her shoulder. It’s been twelve years since they became friends, and he still feels like that 20-year-old kid who was nervous to talk to the pretty red-headed girl he had a crush on.

He can feel eyes on them as her heels catch people’s attention, and he finds himself glaring at men who are shamelessly staring. Her shoes aren’t loud as they click along on the tile floor, but it’s hard to ignore the beautiful woman striding along in business casual.

It happens everywhere they go.

Sherrie has always been beautiful and painfully unaware of her effect on men. It never matters where they are - at work, the rare baseball game he forces her to attend, happy hour with their friends from school - she always catches attention. It doesn’t bother him because she never reciprocates, and he’s always the one to give her a ride back to her apartment.

Even if he wishes it was their apartment they were going to.

He’s watched her change over the last decade, seen her grow as a person. He’s risen through the ranks with her professionally, the two of them matching each other step for step with each promotion and raise. He’s publicly assured her that her hair still looks good as it’s deepened color with age, now less red and more auburn. He’s privately appreciated the way her body has changed, softer and curvier than when they were kids. Her wide hips are a frequent star in his daydreams.

It's the only place where they’ll ever be in a relationship.

He knows they’d be perfect together. Old friends who know each other so well they don’t even have to talk to communicate sometimes. Whose attitudes fit together like puzzle pieces, perfectly in sync with each other. He knows it won’t happen. Can’t happen.

“Grab us a table, and I’ll get the food.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t fight her about paying, knowing this will be covered under their per diem. “Don’t forget my-”

“You’re frozen lemonade, I know!”

Bradley rolls his eyes at the hand that waves over her shoulder, settling their bags at a table and keeping an eye on Sherrie while sending an update to Mav.

His thumbs hover over the keyboard. He wants to tell his uncle the whole situation - that he’s not afraid to flirt with Sherrie.

“Everything okay?”

Bradley looks up to find her eyebrows furrowed as she sets a tray down.

“All good. Just sending my family an update that we’re delayed.”

She nods, sitting in the chair across from him. “Here’s your mini pretzel dogs, with mustard and a frozen lemonade. This is my pretzel nuggets, cheese sauce, and Diet Coke. Oh! And I got us these cinnamon sugar pretzels to share!”

“Thank you for remembering the mustard.”

“Bradley, when have I ever forgotten the mustard? Here, take some napkins.”

He shoves an entire mini pretzel dog in his mouth in lieu of answering her question, which they both know the answer to. Never. She has never forgotten his love for pretzels with mustard.

They eat in comfortable silence, the way only two friends can, occasionally dunking into each other's sauces as they scroll through their phones.

“Hey, how is your da- oh Bradley! You got mustard on your shirt!” His head snaps down to his shirt, groaning when he sees the yellow blob on his white button-up.

“Fuck! This is new, too!”

Sherrie dives into her bag, muttering about a stain stick, a triumphant noise escaping when she comes up successful. Scooting closer to him, she’s hit with a wave of nostalgia as she helps him clean his shirt.

Friday, April 6, 2007 | 10:12 PM EST | Charlottesville, VA

“You should’ve been gone, knowing how I made you feel!”

Sherrie’s head pops up from the lab reports she’s grading.

“And I should've been gone, after all your words of steel!”

She knows that voice.

“Oh, I must've been a dreamer! And I must've been someone else!”

She knows that voice very well.

“And we should've been over!”

She rushes for the front door, hoping and praying that the idiot she’s become close friends with this year isn’t actually outside her townhouse.

“Oh! Sherrie, our love holds on! Holds on!”

She whips the door open and, sure enough, drunkenly singing to her neighbor's house is Bradley Bradshaw.

“Bradley!” She hisses at him, ignoring the flutters in her stomach when he points his big, goofy grin towards her and not the tulips the soccer girls next door planted in front of their bay window. “What are you doing? It’s 10 PM!”

“You didn’t come.”

“First man to ever care about that.” She mutters, snorting at her joke.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. What are you doing here?”

His puppy dog eyes are vicious, and she has the urge to slap her hand over her eyes so she doesn’t succumb to their power. “You didn’t come to the party!”

Sherrie sighs, she thought he might be disappointed she didn’t come to the annual Sigma Chi Easter Bash, but she never thought he would actually notice her absence. Or that it would result in a drunken serenade.

“Bradley, I told you I had a lot of grading and might not make it tonight.” She gently reminds him, stifling a laugh when he trips over his own feet while standing still. “You okay?”

“I have to pee. Can I come in?”

She’s pretty sure he’s just making excuses but lets him in any way; she doesn’t need to deal with him getting a public indecency charge on top of everything else. “Shoes off, Bradshaw. Bathroom is right here; I’ll be in the dining room.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He sloppily salutes her, losing his balance and thunking against the wall, one shoe still on.

Sherrie just blinks at him before returning to her spot at the dining room table, holding in the laugh threatening to escape. She settles in her chair, focusing on the mediocre reports her students had turned in.

“I washed my hands!” Bradley’s abrupt entrance startles her. “Can we have a snack? I’m hungry?

She watches in amusement as he shuffles to her fridge, riffling through the shelves before opening the freezer and gasping.

“I love pretzels. Can we make these? Please?”

The box of pretzels belongs to her roommate, but she’s not strong enough to deny Bradley’s big brown eyes two times in a row so she makes a mental note to buy Amna a new box the next time she goes to the store. “Yeah, we can. But no touching the oven when you’re drunk. Go sit down.”

“I’m not drunk!” He argues even as he follows her directions, plopping himself at the table and nosily leafing through her done pile. “Wow, lots of red here.”

“Bradley! Don’t look at those!”

“Why not?”

“Would you want some random student looking through your homework?”

His rebuttal gets cut off by the oven beeping, announcing it’s up to temp. After she pops the tray in the oven, she turns and catches him appreciating the pj shorts riding up her shapely legs.

“What?” Her head cocks in confusion.

“Nothin'… cute shorts.”

“Thank you.” He watches in fascination as she snips at him even while her cheeks turn pink. “It’s almost like I was dressed for comfort and not planning on being interrupted.”

“But you’re glad I’m here, right?”

“I’ve had worse company on a Friday night.” She nudges him out of her chair. “While those are baking, go find something to watch, and I’m going to finish grading this report.”

“Such a responsible TA.”

Pride fills his chest as Sherrie snorts at his joke and goes back to work. They’ve officially been friends since last year, but he still tries his hardest to make her laugh. She's always so busy and stressed, and she does the cutest little snort-laugh when he catches her off guard.

He puts on a random movie, just grabbing a VHS case with the Disney logo on the side, before plopping on the couch. “Is there a reason you have so many kids movies?”

“Those are Jayla’s, she collects them.” Sherrie answers, never looking up from the table. “What did you choose?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“You don’t remember, huh?”

“Nope! I’ll be quiet now.”

She hums a thank you in his direction, and Bradley keeps his promise, watching her work and staying quiet until the timer goes off. His chin hooked on the back of the couch; he follows her movement through the kitchen as she pulls the pretzels out and transfers them to a plate.

“Can I have mustard, please?”

“Sure can.” Sherrie smiles at his dopey smile as she makes her way to the couch. “Here, take these, then we can eat.”

He gulps down the painkillers she drops in his hand, chugging the rest of the apple juice after they’re gone, smiling when she absentmindedly praises him for listening. He shoves a bite of pretzel in his mouth and mashes the play button, and is pleasantly surprised to find A Bug’s Life was the mystery choice.

“I love this movie,” he garbles through a pretzel. “I love how Flick wins over the princess just by getting a chance to show off his true self.”

“That was shockingly wise for the drunk man sprawled on my couch.”

Bradley thanks her, already a bit more sober but not enough to pick up on her teasing. “So, why didn’t you come? Grading really couldn’t wait?”

“It probably could have, but I’m not a partier, Bradley. You know that.” She dips a piece of pretzel in the mustard. “Besides, I really didn’t think you would notice I wasn’t there, Mr. Popular.”

“You’re the only person I invited; of course, I noticed when you didn’t show up.”

“Really? No one else? Why?”

“I know it’s almost finals, but I wanted to hang out without any books in front of us; that’s all we do lately. Study. Plus, you’ve been extra stressed about something that you don’t want to talk about, and I just wanted you to relax since you won’t talk to me about whatever is bothering you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Bradley. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you; it’s just that my family has been…” She waves a hand through the air, a deep sigh escaping. “It’s complicated. I’m trying not to think about it too much.”

“Well, I’m here if you do want to talk.”

“Thanks bud. How about you? How’re your parents?” She takes one last chunk before nudging the plate in his direction and settling back into the corner.

“Mom is good; she’s close to being considered cancer-free. I think we’re gonna throw a party when she gets there.”

“That’s awesome, Bradley! I’m glad she’s doing so well. How’s your dad?”

“Mav isn’t my dad.”

A record scratch plays in Sherrie’s head as she freezes. She knows she’s heard Bradley talk about his dad, and she’d seen photos of his parents the one time she had visited his frat house last year. He had specifically pointed the photo out, telling her it was his parents. She had even been next to him when he was on the phone when he said “dad” to the person on the other end.

“My dad died when I was three. Mav is- was his best friend. I call him dad sometimes because he’s the closest thing I’ve got.”

Sherrie feels her heart break as Bradley sniffles and sadly shoves a mustard-covered pretzel in his mouth, unshed tears clumping his eyelashes. She’s never seen her friend like this before; she’s experienced many other emotions - frustration, joy, confusion - but the pain creasing his brow is new.

Comforting crying people has never been her forte, but instinctively - almost like they moved without her permission - Sherrie’s fingers run over his hair. Gently stroking the sun-streaked waves as a few tears escape down his cheeks and she scoots closer, letting her body press into his side and hoping the proximity helps.

“I’m sorry for crying on you.” He quietly apologizes after a few minutes of tears.

“S’okay. Family can be hard sometimes.”

“Complicated.”

“That too.” She hums, not moving as he swipes at his eyes and leans against her more, his head resting on her shoulder in a slouched position that can’t be comfortable.

“I love Mav; he’s my dad in all the ways it matters. It just sucks that my actual dad won’t be here for graduation. Like, I know he’s missed so much of my life already, but something about him missing college graduation is worse than everything else. It’s just so unfair; I barely remember him, but I just- I just miss him so much, Sherrie.”

Her heart cracks in half at the whispered confession. She can’t even imagine the pain of losing a parent at such a young age. The inability to remember one of the people responsible for giving you life, all memories fuzzy and most built from second-hand recollections of those who can remember. So she says the one thing she would want to hear.

“Tell me about him.”

Sherrie knows she said the right thing when his red-rimmed eyes brighten, and he immediately launches into a beloved story detailing his father’s love of pranks. She listens dutifully — laughing at the right moments and asking questions when Bradley gets carried away, forgetting that she doesn’t know all the people in his story — and feels her heart warm more and more. She’s always liked Bradley, probably more than she should, but it’s hard not to like him. He’s considerate, smart, and funny, not to mention handsome.

Thankfully, before she gets lost in thoughts of broad shoulders and strong jawlines, a big glob of mustard drops on Bradley’s t-shirt, abruptly cutting him off. The two stare in silence at the yellow condiment sitting on the black cotton shirt, somehow surprised at its appearance, before breaking down into giggles.

“C’mon Bradshaw,” Sherrie grabs his hand, pulling him off the couch. “I have a Tide pen we can use on that mess.”

Bradley follows her up the stairs and into the bathroom, teasing Sherrie about the way her tongue pokes out when she focuses. She takes the gentle taunts, grateful he’s focusing on that and not on her pink cheeks or the way her eyes keep darting to his toned stomach. She’s not sure it was completely necessary for him to strip his shirt off, but she won’t be complaining.

“Well,” A few minutes later, she interrupts his rambling story about a slip and slide. Or she thinks that’s what it’s about; she missed the first part. “I think this is as good as I can get it.”

“That’s okay; it’s not like it’s new or anything. Thanks, Sherrie.”

She steadfastly ignores the pounding heart in her chest as miles of golden skin gets covered back up, trying to not feel too disappointed by its disappearance.

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 3:56 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Bradley complains a bit too loudly, ears going hot when several pairs of eyes curiously dart toward him, but his focus doesn’t stay on that for very long when he catches the face Sherrie makes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

He squints suspiciously as she avoids eye contact. He usually takes her at her word and doesn’t push, but the frown pulling down the corners of her pink lips sets off bells in his head. “Sherrie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Bradley. I’m fine.”

He grumbles at her lack of response but settles again in the spot they had claimed after finishing their snack. The gate was still packed, but they had found a prime location with outlets; the only downside was having to sit on the floor, something that is getting harder the older they get.

Bradley scans the area, trying to scout out some open chairs for them to grab, while Sherrie goes back to the movie they’ve been watching on his phone. His eyes drop away from the chairs in surprise when she scoots closer and leans on his shoulder. It’s not uncommon for them to sit close like this at home in Boston, sides pressed together, but she makes a point to be professional when they’re on travel.

“Hey,” he gently nudges her side, concern rising when she doesn’t lift her head, choosing to tilt her neck back, looking up at him with tired eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Panic grips his chest when tears start forming, clouding her green eyes. “Sherrie?! What’s wrong?”

“We were supposed to be halfway home by now, and I’m so uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Bradley, I’m just so tired.” She whimpers, hiding against his bicep.

It hits him like a glass of cold water. Of course, she’s uncomfortable. She’s been walking around in heels and her pantsuit since 4AM California time after getting maybe three hours of sleep. His suit and shoes are comfortable and easily wearable for twelve-plus hours, not to mention the jacket and tie that were ditched sometime after the mustard incident.

“Oh, Sherrie, it’s okay. Let’s go change, yeah? Then we’ll find a quieter place so you can close your eyes and maybe get some sleep.”

“But the policy…”

Bradley resists the urge to roll his eyes at her insistence on rule-following. “In the nicest way possible, Sher, fuck the policy. You’re uncomfortable, and I care about that way more than I could ever care about a stupid, archaic policy.”

He stands, unplugging their phones and gathering their bags on his shoulder before turning to his best friend, who is still on the floor. “C’mon, we’re putting comfy clothes on.”

“But Bradley-”

“No arguing.” He interrupts, helping her off the ground and directing them back towards the restrooms. “We’re not going to sit in our suits for god knows how much longer.”

“But Bradley, I don’t have anything to change into. We had such a packed schedule I didn’t bother to bring normal clothes.” He ignores the thumping of his heart when her hand grabs his forearm, warm fingers slipping under the edge of the rolled-up sleeve as she tugs to slow his pace. At that information, he slides them out of the flow of traffic and over to the wall, Bradley pressing her against one of the columns lining the concourse atrium.

“You don’t have any regular clothes? What about your pajamas?”

“I have a pair of leggings because I was going to do a training run in the gym last night, but that’s it. I can’t wear my pjs because… well, they’re not appropriate for public.”

“Your leggings are clean, though, right?” He asks, ignoring the thoughts of what non-public appropriate pajamas might look like.

“Well, yeah, dinner went so late I barely had time to sleep before we had to be up. I guess I could buy a shirt at one of the SmartShop- what are you doing?”

Bradley peers up from his knees, where he had started digging in his bag. “I’m grabbing one of my shirts for you. Would you prefer a t-shirt or a sweatshirt? Actually, you’re definitely gonna get cold, sweatshirt for you.”

He pulls the worn, gray crew neck out, shaking it out before handing it over.

“You still have this?” The disbelief in her voice makes him laugh.

“Of course, I still have that! Relay was always my favorite event of the year. And that year was my favorite one.”

As the philanthropy chair of Sigma Chi, part of his job was to sign the brothers up for volunteer events and fundraisers. With his mom’s diagnosis, he ensured their schedule included the campus’ annual Relay for Life event, pouring as many resources as he could into the fundraiser that directly helped advance cancer research.

“Wait, but why was junior year your favorite?” She asks, brushing her fingers over the cracked, screen-printed logo.

“Because that’s the reason we became friends, Sher.”

Surprised green eyes meet sincere brown eyes, a thousand words said in the silence of their stares, both remembering the lead-up to that day in April so many years ago.

Bradley’s eyes widen in panic as everyone at the gate starts moving as a herd. They had finally found seats to relax in after changing, the group of passengers waiting with them shrinking as time went on. And now, with only ten minutes until boarding, their gate has changed again.

“Sherrie, wake up!” He feels bad shaking the snoozing woman off, but they have to move with the group to make it to the new part of Terminal A in time for their flight. “C’mon, honey, they changed the gate again — we gotta go!”

“What are you- again?! Shit!” She wipes the bleariness from her eyes, slinging her bags over her shoulder and grabbing the hand he holds out.

The two coworkers, along with fifty of their fellow passengers who have stuck this out, speed walk down the first branch of the terminal. The entire group picking up the pace when turning the corner towards the second branch where the new gate lives. By the time they hit the second branch, everyone is practically running — time ticking down to boarding — no one wanting to miss this flight.

As if the blob of Flight 1121 passengers racing toward the end of the terminal didn’t garner attention from other gates, the entire terminal is staring by the time they reach gate A28, and several people start yelling in frustration.

“This is unbelievable!” An older gentleman’s unhappiness is interrupted by three simultaneous updates pinging everyone’s phones.

Bradley’s head drops back in disbelief, wrapping his arm around Sherrie when her head thunks against his chest. He doesn’t even get a chance to comfort her before the gate agents are making announcements about getting people on other flights, providing hotel rooms, and the vouchers that will be shared.

“Again, we apologize, but if you have flexible travel plans, we ask that you please go to the end of the line so those with time constraints can be taken care of first. Thank you for your cooperation, folks!”

“Well, that’s us, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sherrie blows air out of her lips, a mischievous smile taking over her face. “Hey, at least this means extra per diem money.”

Bradley laughs as they move to the back of the squiggly line that’s forming, letting her take the bags so he can step away to call to update their supervisor and then his pet sitter. It only takes a few rings for his boss to pick up. “Bradshaw! What’s up? You okay?”

“Hey Martin, all good. Just wanted to let you know that our flight has gotten supremely delayed. We won’t be home until tomorrow morning sometime.”

“Jesus, do you guys need anything?”

“Nah, we’re good. The airline is putting us up in a hotel for the night and giving vouchers for a bunch of stuff. Just called to let you know and for a heads up on the expense report.”

“Well, that is the most important part!” Martin’s honking laugh makes Bradley chuckle as he glances to check on Sherrie’s progress in line. “How’s Sherrie? She good?”

“Yeah, she’s good. She’s holding our spot in line for getting new tickets and stuff.” And it looks like she’s made friends already, he silently adds, smiling at her interacting with the elderly couple in front of her.

“Good. Alright then, I’ll see you on Monday, but let me know if you guys need anything. And hey! If you two end up in the same hotel room — remember what I said on your first day!”

The line goes dead, and so does Bradley’s smile, his stomach churning like it does every time he remembers his first day at the Wells Corporation.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 | 11:15 AM EST | Boston, MA

“Will you calm down?”

“I can’t, Bradley. What if no one likes me? What if I fuck up?!” She hisses, working to appear calm as they wait for their supervisor to show up, but failing.

“First of all, we’re starting together, so you have at least one person that likes you. And you’re great, everyone will like you. Second, there will be mistakes, but we just graduated — they’re not going to let us do anything alone because we don’t know anything yet.”

Sherrie nods, tucking her hands under her legs and trying to breathe. Bradley’s words are encouraging, but he doesn’t know how difficult her internship was last summer. The older engineers she shadowed treated her like a glorified coffee girl and secretary. Even when she had pointed out a mistake they all had missed, there was no change — just the addition of making her type their reports to see if she could catch something the non-engineer tech writers would miss.

This is a brand new company, but misogyny wasn’t unique to Waite Green Construction. Every woman has to work twice as hard to prove her worth and intellect, no matter her age or experience. She’s just hoping her onboarding mentor will be the only other woman in the department; it would be the perfect way to gain a professional mentor once she’s out of the probation period.

“Good morning, kids! How was orientation?” Mr. Teresi walks into the conference room.

Bradley shakes his hand first, “It was good, sir. Nice to see you again.”

“Good to hear! Learn lots of new things.”

“Yes, I think we can be considered experts on trade secrets now.” Sherrie jokes, focusing on making sure her handshake is firm but not too firm.

“Wonderful. So, I’m guessing you two have been introduced, but just in case you haven’t. Bradley, this is Sherrie McHone; she’s an electrical engineer. And Sherrie, this is Bradley Bradshaw, a mechanical engineer.”

“We actually went to school together, sir.”

“We’re friends,” Bradley adds, the two of them exchanging small smiles.

“Oh, great! Well, that makes things easier getting started. Now let’s go over my plan for the two of you, and then we’ll get lunch, my treat for your first day.”

Their supervisor talks for half an hour, going over things they’ll need to be trained in and their first assignments. By the time he’s done, several notebook pages have been filled and highlighted with things that need to be looked up.

“Alright!” The older engineer claps, rubbing his hands together. “I’m sure your brains are overloaded with information, so go drop your things at your desks, and we’ll head to lunch.”

The recent graduates gather their notes and head for the door, quietly talking about a training they’ll be attending next week when he stops them. “One more thing, guys. They never mention it during R&D orientation, but I feel it’s necessary to mention it to new people. Here at Wells, there isn’t a fraternization policy among non-management coworkers or between any employees in different divisions. But we are a fairly small department, so keep in mind who you interact with and what impacts that may have at work.”

Sherrie feels the blood drain from her already pale face as her brand new supervisor stares at her the entire time he speaks, ignoring Bradley completely. She’s going to be sick. Less than four hours into the first professional role of her career, and it’s already happening.

This is the moment it starts, she thinks, her heart pounding in her throat as she robotically nods. It’s never the men that get these warnings. It’s always the women. Always us. Always me.

“I don’t care about that. But there are some people who will, even though they shouldn’t. And I want you guys to have the best experience here you possibly can. You’re both extremely bright, and I’m excited about your futures. I don’t want you to get bogged down by the opinions of others. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” They answer in unison before filing out of the conference room.

“Sherrie, don’t worry about that. He’s just-”

“Trust me, Bradley. I know exactly what he was saying. I’m going to use the restroom, and then I’ll meet you guys at the elevator.”

“Sherrie…”

But she ignores her friend, shrugging her purse over her shoulder and keeping her face neutral as she heads for the single-stall ladies’ room. Fighting to hold the tears back until she’s inside for fear of being perceived as emotional. A quality no woman can afford to have in a professional setting.

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 8:05 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“Hey, everything? Martin says hi.”

“We’re good! This is Mr. and Mrs. Ludden; they’re going to visit their newest granddaughter. How’re Sophie and Louis?” Bradley smiles at the excited way she introduces them, putting a steadying hand on her back when she bounces up on her toes.

“Oh, congrats! They’re good; Marie can watch’em one more day, problem.”

“Good, we’ll have to get her a thank you present for the short notice.”

“You didn’t tell us you guys had kids!”

Bradley and Sherrie freeze in place, eyes widening in surprise at the older woman’s words.

“Oh- uh- we-” Sherrie giggles awkwardly. “Sophie and Louis are our cats; we don’t have kids.”

“I’m so sorry!” Mrs. Ludden gasps, hand covering her mouth in shock while her husband groans her name.

“Louise, how many times do we have to do this before you stop making assumptions?”

“It’s okay, innocent mistake,” Bradley assures them.

“Well, they’re such a cute couple. I just thought they would have adorable children, too!”

“Actually… we’re not…”

“Oh, lord. Let me guess. You’re not dating. You’re just friends.”

“Coworkers too, but we were friends first.” Sherrie suppresses a laugh when the older gentleman rubs a hand over his eyes in exasperation.

“Don’t even start, Clayton!”

“I wasn’t going to, dear.”

Bradley can’t help the laugh that escapes at the comfortable ribbing they give each other; it reminds him of his friendship with Sherrie. The easy way they tease, never going too far.

“Would you two like to join us after we get rebooked?” Bradley asks. “We’re going to use our food vouchers tonight to grab dinner before we head to whatever hotel they put us up in.”

The four adults move through the line, chatting about small things and comparing pictures of grandkids and cats. It’s a nice way to spend the time, especially when they get to share judging looks when a woman throws a tantrum and yells at the gate agent. But soon enough, they’re walking back to the main concourse and deciding what food to get.

“No, stop. You just sit here with the bags, and I’ll grab the food.” Bradley gently pushes Sherrie back into her chair, rolling his eyes as he talks over her protests. “I know. You want mac and cheese, Diet Coke, and whatever pulled pork flavor looks best.”

“He’s sweet,” Louise says, watching the two men make their way over to the BBQ place.

“He’s annoying.” Which makes her companion laugh. “Yes, he’s very sweet. I’m lucky to be such good friends with him.”

“Can I ask why the two of you aren’t together? He even knows what food to bring you.”

“It’s just never been like that between us. We’ve always just been friends. And he’s annoyingly smart, so he always remembers what I order.” Sherrie half smiles, pushing down the pain in her chest at the harmless curiosity, watching Bradley laugh at something Clayton says as she remembers the first time he remembered one of her favorites.

Saturday, March 4, 2006 | 1:34 PM EST | Charlottesville, VA

“Thanks for meeting me on a Saturday, Bradshaw. It’s just such a busy semester.”

“No problem. You know you can call me Bradley, right?”

“Oh, sorry. Do you not like being called Bradshaw?” Sherrie blinks when a bottle of Diet Coke and a small bag of Skittles is set on the table in front of her. “What’s this?”

“Your favorite snack.”

“Right… but why?”

“Because you have that about 50% of the time when we meet up to work on this project. Now, I finished transcribing the interview with Commander Buck last night. Did you want to- Sherrie?”

She shifts her focus from the food to the boy across from her in the study nook they’ve claimed as theirs for the semester. “Why do you remember my favorite snack?”

“Because we’re friends?” Brown eyes look into hers, equally confused.

“We’re friends?”

“I hope so; otherwise, this is gonna get awkward when you hug me in a minute.”

“Why am I going to hug you?!”

Bradley laughs at her flabbergasted expression, but it doesn’t hurt her feelings like it does when other people laugh at her. Something about the tone of the laugh makes it feel like he’s laughing at her, but rather with her, and she just doesn’t know the joke yet.

“Because as team captain, I am happy to announce to the Relay Chair that Sigma Chi has officially raised $5,000 thanks to your idea.”

“Bradley, that’s incredible!” She doesn’t feel silly when she bounces around the table to hug his neck, rocking them back and forth in excitement.

“Well, if you think that’s good - let me show you what we’re anticipating to raise this month…”

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 10:12 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“I just don’t understand how we’re having such bad luck!”

Sherrie rolls her eyes as he unlocks the door. “Bradley, breathe. You’re being very dramatic right now.”

“How is “we’re out of rooms” a legitimate reason for the hotel to give? Not that I mind sharing with you, but like how is that possible? The airline specifically works with them to book rooms for things like this! And the airline! That gate agent who wanted to book us to fly into Hartford and then drive the rest of the way to Boston! That's insane!”

“I don’t know, the Bradley flying into Bradley joke was pretty funny.” She mutters, clicking the lights on as she checks the cleanliness of the room.

“It wasn’t.” Bradley pouts, flopping onto the bed closest to the door. “Do you want to shower first?”

“No, go ahead, but I’m going to wash my face first so I can do a face mask. I’m so dry from the airport air.” He listens to the sounds of water running and the quiet humming as she carefully applies the drenched sheet to her skin. “All yours!”

“Thanks, Sher. I won’t be long.”

He showers quickly but takes extra time cleaning his teeth, his mouth feeling gross after the long travel day. When he comes out, he’s surprised at how cozy the room feels. With only one lamp on, the air conditioning set low to keep the fan running, and an old movie on the TV, it almost feels like they could be at home in his living room. They silently move around each other, Sherrie heading to the bathroom with a pile of things while Bradley organizes his things for the morning, wanting to get as much rest as possible before their early alarm.

He scrolls through emails and texts while he waits for her to shower, turning the television off since he knows there’s a small chance of either of them making it five minutes after they kill the lights. He's updating Mav on tomorrow’s travel plans when Sherrie comes out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel. Bradley sees her packing things out of the corner of his eye, not fully paying attention until he plugs his phone in.

“That’s what you wear to bed?”

“Bradley!” He laughs at how she jumps, her hands coming down to cover her shorts.

“What? They’re cute! Very pink.”

Her face goes as pink as the pajama set she’s wearing. “Stop making fun of me!”

“I’m not! You know, I love strawberries.” He can’t help the way his eyes roam up and down her body, admiring from the spaghetti straps on her smooth shoulders to the scalloped edge of her shorts. “I see why you didn’t want to change into those at the airport.”

“Oh my god…” She huffs, climbing into her own queen bed and stuffing herself under the sheets. “You set an alarm, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. Want me to turn the light off?”

“Please. God, this day cannot be over soon enough.”

He chuckles and turns the lamp off, listening to her shuffle around in the sheets as she gets comfortable. It’s quiet for a few minutes, and he can hear her breathing leveling out, but he can’t keep quiet; the conversation at the airport running through his mind.

“Sher?” It takes a second, but she quietly hums in response. “We have to talk about it again.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Sherrie-”

“No, Bradley. We talked about this two weeks ago. Nothing has changed since then.”

“Yes, things have changed since then. You interviewed for that principal engineer position. Which if you get-”

“I’m not going to get it. They’re going to pick Trevor.”

“They’re going to pick you. You’re the best person for the job!”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it.”

He’s silent, the crushing weight on his chest feeling heavier when he hears her sniffle.

“Oh, Sherrie…” He slips out of his bed and into hers, wrapping the woman he loves in his arms. He lets her cry, knowing she’s frustrated and exhausted, only speaking up again when she’s calmed down. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“No, I’m sorry, Bradley. It’s not fair that we’ve been dancing around this for so many years, and I keep saying no. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to be with you. Not a coward like me.”

“You’re not a coward; you’re one of the bravest people I know, Sherrie Anne McHone. I know how critical people are of women, in this field especially. And I love you, so I don’t mind waiting until we’re in a position that you’re confident won’t jeopardize your career. So, we’ll wait to hear about the job, and once you hear that you’ve gotten it, I’m treating you to the nicest dinner in Boston.”

“Bradley, we don’t know-”

“I know we don’t know. But think about how it would be if it does. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“But what about-”

“Doesn’t matter, honey.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.” Sherrie mumbles, cuddling further into his side, making it clear that he wasn’t allowed to leave.

“I know, but it doesn’t matter, whatever it is — we’ll figure it out.”

Saturday, July 16, 2016 | 10:32 AM EST | Somewhere over Virginia

“She’ll take a ginger ale; thank you so much.” Bradley balances his apple juice, the two packets of Biscoff cookies, and the bubbling soda he got for Sherrie. The smiling flight attendant moves past their row as he turns to his row companion.

They’re finally on their way home after waking up to more delay announcements. The additional time meant there was time to get coffee and some fruit from the hotel before their taxi back to the airport arrived, and the Luddens had even stopped to chat for a second at the gate, excited that they had gotten bumped up to first class since the flight was nearly empty.

All things considered, it had been a good morning even though Sherrie was insisting on working during the flight. Bradley is sure it’s an attempt to ignore their talk from last night, not wanting to dwell on the emotional moment when things are still so up in the air.

He looks over at the woman he’s known since he was eighteen, overwhelmed for a moment by how little things have changed since the first time he ever noticed her. Bradley fondly watches as she furiously types, hunched over her laptop with headphones, playing what he knows is eighties hair bands.

Her nose wrinkles in frustration, and suddenly it’s 2003 again, and he’s trying to get the attention of the red-haired girl whose table has the only empty chair left, something he desperately needs since this book can’t leave the library. He’s unable to get her attention and resorts to knocking on the table, heart skipping a beat when the prettiest green eyes he’s ever seen blink up at him. Bradley gestures at the empty chair, silently asking if he can sit, and is grateful when she nods because her smile is making his knees wobble. For the next hour, he tries to take notes for his paper, but he keeps getting distracted by the beautiful girl across from him. Bradley isn’t sure if he’s upset or happy when she packs up her stuff and leaves, giving him a little wave when she notices him watching her.

That had been thirteen years ago, and her intense focus still distracts him, but he’s not afraid to interrupt her this time. Fingers rub her arm that is covered in his sweatshirt again, but this time, he knows it smells like her shampoo instead of his cologne. Her smile still sends his heart skipping when she looks up at him, her pretty eyes widening in joy when she catches sight of the red snack packaging and the plastic cup holding her second favorite soda.

“Thank you!” She whispers, leaning across the empty middle seat in their row to kiss his cheek. “Oh, and we should go out to lunch when we get back! I want to try that new noodle place that opened in Southie.”

He just smiles when she immediately gets back to work; cheek puffed out from the cookie she stuffed in her mouth.

Maybe she’s not avoiding our talk from last night.

Thursday, August 11, 2017 | 2:15 PM EST | Boston, MA

“You got a minute?” Bradley knocks on the edge of her cubicle. It may be a different floor of their building, but all of the office space is the same dated stuff from decades ago.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“First of all…” He ducks down and presses a swift kiss to her plush mouth, still trying to make up for all those years he couldn’t. “And don’t say anything because I already checked before I did because I wanted to kiss my girl.”

He chuckles at the pink spots that shine on her cheeks. It’s been a year since Sherrie snagged the promotion, and they officially became an item, but she still turns a little red whenever he says something sweet.

“Second, you are all packed, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“I was gonna swing by the apartment and get our bags so we can head straight to the airport after work.”

“You took the afternoon off? Why?”

Bradley was expecting this question and smoothly fibs. “I worked the hours out with Martin for this week so I could run a few last-minute errands. Do you want me to grab snacks?”

“Okay, Mr. Secrets. When you’re at home, could you water the ivy? I forgot this morning, and I don’t want it to die while we’re gone.”

“Of course! Need me to do anything else?”

Sherrie hums, staring at the ceiling as she thinks. “One more kiss?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bradley happily complies with her request.

“Okay, now you have to go. I have to finish prepping for this meeting where I get to yell at Sean.”

“That’s my girl. I’ll pick you up later. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Have fun with your mysterious errands.” Sherrie teases, and Bradley smirks back, knowing how much she would be freaking out if he knew what he would be doing while she professionally reamed out their least favorite colleague.

“Thanks, honey. Text me if you think of something.” Sherrie waves over her shoulder, already zoned back into her work.

Bradley doesn’t dare look at his buzzing phone until he’s safely on the elevator, pleased to see confirmation texts from their hotel and the airline. Would it be cheesy to quietly propose in the airport that was a catalyst in their relationship? Maybe, but he knew Sherrie would love it. He’s just hoping the TSA didn’t call out the ring that would be hiding in his carry-on.

#deltasupremacy I also want to give a special thanks to @sometimesanalice, who gave so much encouragement through the texts despite having no idea what I was writing - you're the best! tagged some friends and most those who interacted with the original announcement post for this fic all those months ago!

tagging: @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @laracrofted @theharddeck @hangmanbrainrot @hangmanssunnies @thesewordsareallihavetogive @princessphilly @katieshook02 @atarmychick007 @kmc1989 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @misfitpeach @luckyladycreator2 @scarlettwidow19 @mini-bee-bee @midnightstarqueen @shamelessghostwagonwobbler

divider credit

#top gun maverick fic #top gun fic #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #elle writes

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profoundbondfanfic · 1 year ago

Text

A Complete Kingdom by komodobits [Explicit, 85k words]

The sea; it swallows me. It comes up to my knees and it swallows me. The boys owe Jody a few dozen favours, and so when her niece goes missing near an old fishing village on the coast of Maine, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Castiel agree to take the case on. They settle into an old abandoned lighthouse-keepers' cottage, and slowly the tide comes in. (post-s8)

Between Love and Agony by Duckyboos [Explicit, 53k words]

Dean Winchester is in love. Like, bonafide heart eyes and deep sighs, hung-the-moon love. There's just one problem: the lucky guy is his husband's identical twin, Castiel. The two of them have been having a kinky affair for years, burrowing under each other’s skin and setting up camp. Which is why, after Castiel goes missing, Dean’s about ready to tear the world apart looking for him. When Castiel eventually returns to him, he’s been through literal hell, managing to drag himself out, bloody and raw, for Dean. Together, they discover a way to make Castiel whole again — though the price will be gruesome... and there will certainly be hell to pay.

Camp by fullvoid [Explicit, 9k words]

It’s 1985 and to say that Dean is relieved when his summer job at the local camp comes to an end would be an egregious understatement. There are about a million different ways he would have rather spent his summer than by being the maladjusted, weird guy that all his coworkers avoid. Nevertheless, in a poor effort to fit in, Dean decides to attend the annual celebration that his fellow counselors organize at the end of every camp season. It isn’t supposed to be anything special, simply a standard party with shitty vodka, late-night skinny dipping, and make-your-ears-bleed soft rock. As it turns out, the hockey-mask-adorned, machete-wielding killer who crashes it has other plans—and no one is prepared for the horrors the night will bring.

et florum magica: (And the Magic of Flowers) by wiccanstiel [Explicit, 52k words]

There’s a large, leafless tree and a road, a hand on a gnarled cane, a stoutly man in a black suit, his face scratched out. When Castiel Novak moves to the small town of Fox Hollow, he’s looking for a fresh start. Only his past seems to be–quite literally–haunting him, and even through his best efforts of settling into his new life, there’s a darkness in the shadows that he can’t seem to shake. And after meeting an otherworldly being named Dean during what was supposed to be a simple walk through the forest, he’s left with more questions than answers. But like it’s residents, Fox Hollow has some well-kept secrets, and things quickly turn to life or death when one of those secrets finally steps from the shadows and into the light.

empty places by dothraki_shieldmaiden [Mature, 71k words]

There’s something outside the house. Something is moving outside the house, moving inside the house. Maybe moving inside him. Something is outside the house, and it wants in. After tragedy derails his life, Castiel Novak needs to escape. He flees to Lawrence, Kansas, where he answers Dean Winchester’s ad for a roommate. There, he tries to mend the shattered pieces of his life. But as he starts to become closer with Dean, Castiel finds that escape isn’t so easy. The past doesn’t want to be left behind, and there’s something inside the house. Something hungry. And it won’t be appeased until it has him.

Good Bones by emmbrancsxx0 [Mature, 39k words]

An apple pie, white picket fence American Nightmare. Dean and Cas, married and semi-retired from hunting, move into their first house together in a sleepy, secluded town. After a few run ins with the ghost that haunts the place, they must come face-to-face with the house's grisly past.

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance (doomcountry) [Teen and Up, 31k words]

Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

Tunnel by deansmultitudes [Explicit, 13k words]

An injury during a hasty job makes Dean, Sam and Cas split up in the underground tunnels. Confused and trapped in a maze of walls that seem to shift at the will of something evil, Dean's frantically searching for his loved ones.

White Noise by saltyfeathers [Mature, 30k words]

in an unnamed, perpetually rainy city on the east coast, something haunts dean and cas’ apartment. they’d like to pretend they don’t know what’s living in the space between them, but feigned ignorance can only keep them above water for so long. something happened nine months ago. something they don’t talk about. but the things people don’t talk about often find ways to speak for themselves, whether dean and cas are ready to pay their dues or not. the rain is an unforgiving entity, and as it continues to pervade the city; as it seeps into their already cold bones, they can feel the ocean rising around them, leaving them choking not on just what happened nine months ago, but what they’ve come to mean to each other since then.

#halloween #destiel #group rec #horror

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 8 months ago

Note

https://www.gbnews.com/royal/kate-middleton-prince-louis-birthday-picture-royal-family-news

“The couple eventually posted a new photograph in the afternoon, despite having traditionally provided it to the press under an embargo the day before.”

I’m new to the whole process of how the birthday pictures are shared, but from the online articles (especially the above one), it seems to me that the Wales’ circumvented providing it directly to the press this time and only published the picture themselves on social media. If so, good for them!

Hopefully, the media has FAFO’d. And GB News may be salty, but they have no one to blame but themselves.

So how the birthday photos work is that usually the afternoon before a birthday (or a milestone anniversary or a new baby photo), William and Kate will send the picture out to the newspapers/photo agencies/media organizations with an embargo not to release before a certain time. This "certain time" has traditionally been around 10pm London time, which is usually when the UK morning newspapers "go to bed" - i.e., the layout/content is finalized and sent to the printers and the electronic copies are published to the internet/posted on social media.

Because of the time difference (10pm London is 5pm East Coast and 2pm West Coast), American social media tends to make the new pictures go viral on our side of the internet while the rest of the world is asleep. This is why you may have seen some American blogs cheering on Monday afternoon - the UK papers went to print without new photos of Louis for his birthday on the Tuesday front pages.

So then on the day of the actual birthday/anniversary, Kensington Palace will post their "Happy birthday to Kiddo" message with their original photo first thing in the morning to coincide with the locals waking up/reading their morning news. A few hours later, usually around their lunchtime/early afternoon, Kensington Palace does a "thank you for the happy messages" post with a second photo.

What happened this week with Louis's birthday is that Kensingon Palace did not provide the newspapers, photo agencies, media orgs with a new photo of Louis for his birthday. According to Rebecca English, this is because William and Kate didn't want to share photos because either a) it felt hypocritical after spending January through March begging for privacy or b) how the press treated them over the Mother's Day photo and Kate's video message.

But something happened, William and Kate changed their minds about not sharing the photo and decided to post one anyway. They posted the new photo straight to their own social media first, before then sending it out to the news and media organizations.

Why they changed their minds, we don't know. Maybe their office got too many phone calls about it. Maybe their staff reported on all the social media tributes. Maybe there was a ton of mail/birthday cards delivered for Louis. We know that they probably intended to share new photos. You don't have a photoshoot with young kids for the heck of it. My theory is they did the photos, someone got cold feet about sharing photos after what happened last month, and they were on the fence about it until they saw the genuine love, support, and appreciation for Louis (and the family) from the general public.

I'd like to see this being the new MO going forward - pictures released exclusively to their social media first, then circulated to the media (or forcing the media to use the social media copy exclusively). We won't really know till Charlotte's birthday next week if this was a one-off or truly a change in how they handle the media.

On that note...I do kinda feel like we might be getting an anniversary picture this year. With Kate's health issues, they may feel like an anniversary picture would comfort people who are worried about her, and it may be how they thank the public for their support and well wishes. Of course, the caveat being that Kate has felt well enough to be photographed/appear on camera.

#ask #brf #waleses

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ladystormcrow · 4 months ago

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Crow Takes A Trip, Part 6

On our way towards the coast, we followed @wishuponastarion's recommendation and took a guided tour of the Tillamook Creamery. It was a lot of fun, and ended with a tasting of some of their specialty cheeses.

After that, we drove down Route 101 to Eureka CA, a very winding road going through numerous small towns along the coast. It was a beautiful drive until after the sun set, when it started bucketing and we spent hours bouncing along narrow, twisty forested mountain roads in the pitch black rain, and didn't arrive until close to midnight. 0/10 would not recommend.

Once we finally arrived in Eureka, we pretty much crashed into bed and didn't move until the next morning.

(Continued here)

#crow takes a trip

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lionofchaeronea · 2 years ago

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Denarius minted by Sextus Pompeius (ca. 67-35 BCE), son of Pompey the Great and admiral during the wars of the Second Triumvirate. On the obverse, a galley with eagle, scepter, and trident, beneath a column topped by a statue of Neptune. On the reverse, the sea monster Scylla (who had a human head and torso but whose loins were variously described as dogs and serpents), wielding a rudder as a club.

Sextus Pompeius, a naval commander of considerable skill, was one of the principal threats to the uneasy alliance between Octavian and Antony in the years following Julius Caesar's assassination. Based on Sicily, which allowed him both to menace the Italian coast and to deprive Rome itself of much-needed Sicilian grain, Sextus gave Octavian much grief until his final defeat by Octavian's admiral M. Agrippa at Naulochus (36 BCE). The coin above is thought to have been minted between 42 and 40 and to celebrate a naval victory over Octavian (which may have been aided by a storm in the Strait of Messina). Of particular note is Sextus' attempt to stress his ties with his father, who had nominally been the Senate's champion against Caesar. The obverse styles Sextus both as MAGNUS, like his father, and PIUS, marking his filial devotion. His office as given on the reverse is PRAEF(ECTUS) CLAS(SIS) ET ORAE MARIT(IMAE) EX S(ENATUS) C(ONSULTO)--"Prefect of the fleet and the maritime coast by command of the Senate"--in token of his claim to represent Republican authority against the usurpation of the triumvirs.

Photo credit: Classical Numismatic Group, Inc. http://www.cngcoins.com

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noxturnalnymph · 8 months ago

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Life Update

It feels to be like I've been pretty absent on here and that bums me out. I had to step back a little for my mental health because the negativity in this fandom does affect me. But stepping back also bums me out because this site can be SO fun when I'm interacting with my moots and making new moots and all of us are squealing about new pics of our boyfriend together.

That being said - the MAJOR reason I have been absent in the past 2 weeks is because of travel. And oh boy.... is this a whopper of a story. So, if you're interested in a tale of insanity, read below the cut.

[TL;DR] I'm back (not that I went anywhere)

sorry I couldn't resist TUWOMT reference, I actually went a lot of places and some of them were good and some were terrible but I really am back now. (Also, I posted this at 2am apparently but did not mean to do that then, so I am reposting now)

So first of all, I was in my hometown in upstate NY last week visiting my family because we are planning to move to the West Coast after our lease is up here so we wanted to visit again before we moved across the country. I live in Florida and we drove 2 days - with our cat in tow - (because my anxiety is so bad it makes it impossible for me to step on an airplane). While I was home I took the train with my bff to Manhattan for 3 days and we hung out there, didn't get to meet Pedro Pascal even once, and took the train back to my hometown. My husband and I drove the 2 days back home and got back Sunday night. It was exhausting and I was only home for like 38 hours and then Tuesday at 1pm I began my next trip. Started with an 18 hour bus ride from Orlando to Lafayette, Louisiana to get a train from Lafayette to Los Angeles, CA. I was planning on being there 12 days before getting the train back to Lafayette and then a bus back to Orlando.

So as I've said I have a terrible fear of flying and I am also the owner of a very bad back (and since my husband and I share a car) I didn’t want to do all that driving alone (dangerous/stressful and bad back) and couldn’t fly cuz of my mental illness. So this is by no means meant to be offensive, but I’m apparently too much of a babygirl to be a bus person. I did not know this. I thought I was tough. Nope. 2.5 hours in on the bus ride and I’ve been listening to this man 2 rows in front of me play instagram reels on his phone the whole time even though the driver said 5 times (FIVE TIMES) to wear headphones….. Well the driver gets sick of it, pulls over at a gas station in the middle of nowhere and tells the guy to leave. He won't so the cops are called. The cops show up and he finally gets off the bus after a 30 min delay. I’m like….. WHAT THE FUCK? IS IT ALWAYS LIKE THIS??? I didn't know if this man was gonna get mad and start swinging on the bus driver or the cops..... it was scary.

The first station I was at in Orlando I almost threw up cuz I was so nervous. Before I got on the bus I went to pee and to wash my hands and there wasn’t any fucking soap in the bathroom. I thought that was bad. AND YET SOMEHOW.... every subsequent stop was somehow worse. Literally, I kept saying to myself “this can’t get any worse” ....and it kept getting worse. These are the sketchiest, dirtiest fucking places you can imagine. I was staring at this toothless old white dude behind the counter at one of their convenience stores and thought to myself “this has got to be a movie set cuz this can’t be real.” Kind of waiting for someone to jump out and say "PSYCH this is all a joke. I know the floors here look like they were mopped with literal dirt, and everyone looks angry or drugged out, but this is all fake. It's all a joke meant to make you lose your mind." But that didn't happen. I've just never experienced anything like it. I’ve never seen anything so disgusting in my life. The 2nd to last stop only had doors on 2 of the 7 bathroom stalls. One of the stations had a TV on that just played old reruns of a Jaime Fox show while every child in the building cried and coughed at alternating intervals. Yes, this was 3am, and they made three busses full of people cram into a station with not enough seats and wait around for an hour... This is not a joke.

I felt so fucking unsafe the whole time but I had to get off the bus at the stops and walk around (cuz they made you) but also cuz I was VIOLENTLY motion sick the whole fucking ride on the bus. Like clutching a barf bag with a pounding head and miserable. Also on the bus almost everyone else had two seats to themselves and I had a seat partner the entire time, but it kept changing. First it was a girl and then a kid and they were cool but then it was cigarette smelling guy and then guy who literally wouldn’t stop accidentally touching me, including putting his elbow in my back multiple times (I have fucking herniated discs so this did NOT feel good).

And when I tell you that my back hurt, i mean i couldn’t spread out or anything cuz someone was fucking next to me the whole time so my back was on fire. I was in so much pain I cried 3 separate times. So I couldn’t sleep cuz people kept talking and I was in pain and the ride was rough and guy kept touching me. And I just kept telling myself, ok countdown cuz you’re almost there you're almost there. And by now I told myself - this final stop - the bus/train station in Lafayette - is not going to be clean but it’s okay, because you’re going to be off the bus and it’s going to be okay.

WRONG....

When I tell you that they pulled up to a dark parking lot at 4:50am next to a building with gates drawn down over the doors and dropped me off - I was in fucking shock. “Is this building closed?” i shouted at the bus driver. “yeah,” he says, getting back on the bus. “Ummmm, where do i go?” I’m fucking starting to panic. “You can go sit on the platform till they open in a few hours.” and he’s gone.

I’m alone in the dark with my luggage at the fucking bus station in downtown Lafayette.

Oh except I’m not alone because there are 3 men milling about, one of them keeps asking me my name, two of them ride bikes past me back and forth. I go to sit on the platform and this alarm goes off and this voice comes over the loudspeaker shouting “THERE IS NO LOITERING ALLOWED HERE. PLEASE LEAVE IMMEDIATELY.” and repeats non-stop. One of the guys goes “why is it doing that? Is it gonna call the police?” HOW THE FUCK WOULD I KNOW?? I FUCKING WISH IT WOULD MY DUDE, ARE YOU SERIOUS?

I tell him my name to be nice and he keeps telling me i should come sit with him and this other guy cuz it’s “safer” and I’m like…. IS IT THO?!?!?!? and he keeps saying “youve never been here? Do you wanna go see downtown? It’s a short walk, i’ll help you roll your suitcase.” BRO WE’RE NOT GOING COURTING IT’S FUCKING FIVE IN THE MORNING. This man wants to go on a fucking stroll with me and I am just envisioning what my Forensic Files episode is gonna be like and hoping the re-enactment actor they get to play me isn't too ugly.

I’m desperately trying to call a lyft to take me literally anywhere else, and no one is accepting my ride request. FINALLY someone accepts, and after 45 minutes of sitting in the dark, trembling out of fear and cold in only a tshirt with my bags hunched around me, I get my ride. The lyft driver takes me to a Hilton hotel by the airport. I walk in, and I’m mid panic attack and crying and tell the employees there at 6am my story and ask if I can pay for a room so I have somewhere safe to hang out. They refuse to make me pay and offer me the lobby (lots of outlets and large, plush couches) for as long as I need it and tell me to help myself to the hot breakfast and coffee. Fucking Angels.

Does it stop there? No it doesn’t. Cuz I still have to go back to the train station for my train to California, which leaves at 12:30pm. So I spend HOURS in the hotel lobby, chilling and eating and it’s nice and I feel safe. I schedule a lyft to pick me up at 11:15 so I can get back to the train station with an hour before I’m scheduled to depart.

BUT OH WAIT.

10:45am I get a text that my train has been canceled. CANCELED.... Apparently, there are storms affecting the route, so my train will not be running between New Orleans and San Antonio, TX (I’m 2 stops after NO). But they will provide me BUS ACCOMMODATIONS to get me to San Antonio so I can continue my journey there.

Wrong word, my dude. BUS??? I’m fucking triggered. I start bawling like an insane person. The girls who let me stay in the lobby at this point are probably like “oh shit we thought she was normal but she’s crazy.” I call my husband, I call my mom, I call a couple friends. I’m a fucking mess. I just want to go home at this point but I’m still a 12 hour drive away (with no car of course) and OH YEAH I haven’t fucking slept!

So first thing’s first - I ask the hotel for a room and they feel terrible for me (cuz i’m a crying sniveling mess) and give me a discount on a suite and let me check in right away. I call Amtrak and cancel my train, sobbing on the phone with them (and it’s a man so he’s very awkward about it) but they give me a FULL refund. I most likely won’t get refunded at all for the VRBO rental I got for Los Angeles though. I got to the room and booked a rental car for the next day from the airport that I was like right next to, and so the plan was to sleep there overnight and get a lyft to the airport and drive back towards home the next day.

My husband offered to take off work and drive to meet me at an airport along the watly so I wouldn't have to drive the whole 12 hours with my terrible back. I ended up getting a Malibu which was such a nice ride and it had a lumbar support in the seat and my back felt FUCKING GREAT. I met up with my husband at our planned location and we drove home. Between the time change, massive rain storms, and construction traffic, we didn't get home till 10:30 but I fucking made it home. (Because of course with all my bad luck I was terrified that I was going to die on the way home.)

BUT IM HOME SAFE IF NOT A LITTLE WORSE FOR WEAR (mentally and physically exhausted). I will make a post later today with my plans for my writing updates. I have a new WIP I want to share and I know some of you are waiting on my current series as well.

TY always for your love and support ✌️💖🫂

#noxturnalpascal #personal

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ftwdb · 1 year ago

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Don't Say Go

Chapter 4

Summary: Soulmates find each other through what is known as The Pull. A sense within a persons body that their soulmate is within reach that guides them to find them. You find yourself following this Pull, guided by vague dreams of a man you can't quite see, until you collapse in the wild and are found by Troy, your soulmate, who has been following the same feeling toward you for days.

Once connected soulmates are able to share emotions through their bond, as well as being able to sense where the other is. But how this force works is very much a mystery still, it can vary from soulmate to soulmate, and just sometimes a connection too deep can lead twist a bond from something beautiful to, well...

Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content, violence, non-graphic description/implications of SA, child abuse and domestic violence. References to addiction. Unhealthy love/obsession/relationships. Soulmate AU. Eventual smut.

Warnings: threat of assault

Even in your exhausted state your body was still used to waking up at sunrise. The horizon was a pale pink hue when you slid from the bed soundlessly. The woman who had fallen asleep during the night was still in her chair, slumped over and breathing loudly as you began to search the tent for your belongings.

Your bag was hanging at the end of your bed with your boots neatly tucked beside it. You shook them out before you pulled them on and checked your backpack.

Your notebook was missing.

You scrambled, searching the sheets and surrounding area. Eventually you accepted it had been lost or taken and you couldn’t waste time trying to find it if you wanted to leave quietly.

The thought made the feeling in your chest ache and throb. Resentfully you told it to quiet down. You’d imagined what it would be like to experience the Pull and find your soulmate since you were a child, and this… this was not what you had pictured. Having to make a silent getaway to escape the man who was supposedly your equal half. It was nothing like what you’d seen growing up; your parents had found each other young and lived their lives happily and still deeply in love right up until their final moments, clinging to each other as they told you to run, to escape the dead and the encroaching fire…

You pushed all memories of your family away as you pulled your bag over your shoulder, now heavy with the stolen medical supplies, dried food and a few bottles of water. It was the best you could find within the tent.

Your map was still in your bag but of course you’d been unconscious when you'd been found. You had no idea where you were but you guessed if the Pull had you heading east from the city then if you made your way west you’d eventually reach the coast. You could find shelter there, fish for food. The fires would have been long burned out by now and hopefully it meant most of the dead were also gone.

You cautiously made your way from the tent and paused as you took in, well, everything.

Ever since San Diego had been bombed and you’d lost everyone and everything you’d ever known you hadn’t seen another soul, unless you counted the dead. Which, you'd decided, you did not.

Now you could see tents and caravans spread out in the fields. In the distance a large house presided over everything and you just knew that was where he was. If you weren’t mistaken you could see a herd of cattle in one direction, horses in another. You were on a farm?

For a split second you reconsidered leaving. The place looked secure. It looked like something familiar, something safe. A place that could be a home.

The memory of Troy turning his back on you, his voice as he told you that you should not have come…

You shook all thoughts of staying from your head, made sure the rising sun was at your back, and started walking. You ignored the hunger in your stomach. Once you’d put some distance between you and this place you’d stop and eat the stolen supplies. For now you just needed to keep going.

You ducked amongst the caravans, taking shelter where you could once you noticed the uniformed men walking the perimeter of the fence. Of course they’d have a guard, you thought. A place like this would need protection.

You wondered if anyone would even care if you left, but just in case you remained determined to slip away undetected. The humiliation of explaining that you couldn’t stand to see the empty look your soulmate had for you was too much to think about. You’d have been met with pity, maybe even scorn. Women were always judged more harshly then men if their matches didn’t work out, as if there was some fundamental fault within them which made them, for lack of a better word, unlovable.

You managed to reach the fence and slip through, keeping low to the ground as you moved toward a gathering of trees. The air was cool on your cheeks and your body still aching and sore, but you were sure of your decision. You pretended the sharp pain in your chest and the difficulty in catching your breath were simply no more than your weary body complaining as you ducked into the shelter of the trees, straightened your body, and began walking.

You didn’t look back.

After many hours you’d split the dried food and water into rations, examining the map and trying to work out your location as best you could while you rested, before setting out once more. You knew you needed to find somewhere to gather a change on clothes, especially your damn boots which were close to falling off your feet. Even some duct tape would do the job.

By the time the sun had begun to fall you thought you saw something promising looming in the distance. As you quickened your pace your heart leapt. There was definitely shelter ahead, a barn that had seen better days and a small house. The area was surrounded by a wire fence that was easy enough to climb over once you’d spent at least twenty minutes laying on your stomach in the long grass, checking for signs of life inside.

You didn’t want to receive a face-full of lead by being mistaken for an intruder, nor did you want to ask for help from whoever might be inside if they were less than friendly. After you’d determined the place abandoned you carefully walked the perimeter of the empty barn before peering through the gaps in boarded up windows.

There was no light from inside, no signs of movement. You tapped on the window and waited.

Nothing.

Your feet were light on the slightly rotten wooden steps that led to the front door. Nervously, and suddenly wishing you’d picked up something to use as weapon, you tried to door handle. It was stiff but opened with a loud groan. You shuddered, thinking of every scary movie you’d ever seen that started with a heroine walking alone into a creepy, abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere.

“Hello?” you called into the darkness, “If there are any crazed, masked serial killers in here… please don’t come out…”

The silence remained and you closed the door behind you. The house was only spread over one floor and it didn’t take long to check it out. The main living area was attached to a small kitchen which smelled as if something had recently died. You avoided opening the refrigerator and the oven but checked the cupboards for food. There were a few questionable tins, and thankfully a tin opener and some rusty looking knives in a drawer. You picked up the sturdiest looking knife and dropped the rest into your bag, deciding to save them for breakfast the next day.

Once you were sure the house was empty you made sure to block the doors and check that the windows were secure. You pulled the sheets from the single bedroom and decided to spent the night on the couch, hoping it wasn’t flea infested. Although there was no reason not to use the bedroom you just found sleeping in a strangers bed too strange.

You kept your bag close, curled yourself up on the couch and closed your eyes before quickly falling asleep. As you did you hoped your rest would be free of dreams as your fist pressed itself against your aching chest, which was harder to ignore now you didn’t have anything to distract yourself with.

Your wish was granted as you managed a few hours of deep slumber before something began to rouse you, some sound you knew was familiar but couldn’t quite place…

It was a creaking, like when your mother tried to walk the stairs at night without waking anyone on the old floorboards. You frowned in your sleep and muttered, annoyed. Why was she walking around so late? It was barely morning…

Your eyes flew open as the sound came again, accompanied by the image of your mother’s bloodstained face.

The noise, it couldn’t be her.

She was long dead.

It took a moment to adjust to the darkness, to remember where you were. Just as you did a great pounding sound came from the door, followed by angry voices.

You grabbed your back and dived behind the couch, holding your breath as your heart began to race. The knife was already in your hand but from the sounds of the arguing outside there were at least two of them. Your best bet was to sneak away unseen rather than risk confronting them.

There was a pause, a second of silence in which you hoped whoever was outside would give up and leave before the door crashed open and a figure appeared, filling the doorway.

“Told ya it just needed a man’s touch,” he said smugly.

Another shorter but stocky man appeared over his shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up Derek and check for dead.”

You couldn’t take a breath even if you tried as torchlight beamed across the room. You shrunk back, trying to make yourself as small as possible as footsteps drew closer.

“You check out that way,” the man called Derek said, “see if there’s anythin’ worth takin’.”

A wave of naseau came over you as the thrumming your chest began to vibrate horribly. For some reason it was like a voice in your head, whispering.

Danger. Danger.

“No shit!” You snapped back at it silently.

You would not make the same mistake you had before, just a few days after your parents had died and you’d been completely alone before stumbling across a man and his son - about your age - who’d also lost everything in the bombings. You’d asked for help, believed them when they’d led you to ‘a safe place’.

That was when you’d first learned that the dead were not the worst monsters out there. At least you knew exactly what they wanted from you if you stumbled into their path.

The sound of the other man’s footsteps faded as he headed into the kitchen. Derek was walking slowly further into the room, kicking aside a fallen stool so it bounced off the couch and made you jump.

Your hands clenched on the knife when Derek’s footsteps froze.

You knew if you didn’t move soon his companion would see you crouched on the ground when he came back from the kitchen, and the door was still wide open, moonlight streaming in with the sounds of the night.

Cupboards being torn open echoed into the room, it wouldn’t take long at all for him to realise it was empty… you had no choice.

You braced yourself, turning toward the door-

A hand reached over the couch, grabbing you by your hair and pulling you up and over. You screamed and slashed out with the knife, catching skin but not with enough force for the blunt blade to do much damage. Derek dropped you onto the couch and repaid you with a sharp blow to the face, leaving your head spinning as it snapped back against the cushion.

His friend came running at the noise and you could make out the ragged shoulder length hair beneath a cap in the moonlight. In front of him he held a gun, a hunting rifle to be exact. You pulled back you hand which still held the knife and tried to lash out again only for your wrist to be caught and twisted painfully. You grit your teeth, trying to keep hold of your only weapon as the man barked a laugh that made your stomach turn.

“Drop it girly.” Derek instructed, “Let’s not do anything stupid huh?”

“You attacked me!” you spat back.

“That’s an awful accusation. You drew first blood. Now drop it so we can have a nice civilised conversation.”

With one more squeeze of his hand your fingers gave out. You dropped the knife with a whimper and snatched your wrist back as the man ducked to pick it up. Your eyes fell to the gun. You could have kicked out and tried to run, but you’d only end up with a hole between your eyes, or so the man’s face told you as he sneered.

Derek examined the rusty blade and muttered something about tetanus. Your laughter was hollow.

“Good. You can kill me but here’s hoping you die soon anyway!”

“Derek she’s being a rude house guest.” came the voice of the man in the door.

You scowled, “I was here first!”

Your insides curled as Derek glared down at you, tossing the knife away.

“Well we’re here now. And we’re the ones with the guns. So it’s our place now.” he said with an eerie calm. You looked at him more closely as he placed the torch on the ground, sending long shadows across the room. There was enough light for you to make out broad shoulders, thick-muscled arms with hands that looked like they could crush a skull. You shrunk back against the couch, your blood running cold as you accepted you were really in the shit now.

#troyotto #troy otto season 3 #troy otto #fanfiction #ftwd fanfic #ftwd fanfiction #fear the walking dead fanfiction #troyxreader #troyxyou #troy otto x reader #troy otto x you #don't say go fic

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winterpinetrees · 25 days ago

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The Time Will Pass Anyway (The Gap Years 2x1)

After two months we are so back! It’s time for Book 2, formatting-wise. Brian, Sierra, Clay, and Marin continue their quest to gather allies and not die. However, they’re all known threats now, and the balance of power is getting precarious.

navigation guide

dramatis personae

🐴🐎 (those are for you @wishndreamer. welcome to the party)

…………………

September 13th

San Fransisco, CA

The elves know their world well. After eleven thousand years of civilization, they do finally have better maps of the ocean floor than the surface of the moon. They have looked backwards into ice cores and ancient ruins to discover their past, and they have a story. It is an origin myth by a different name, now that religion is out of fashion.

Tens of thousands of years ago, after they mastered fire but before any cave paintings they’ve found, the worlds were one. Then, by chance or by fate, the worlds were split and the residents of one found themselves surrounded by long-since-faded magic. Or maybe a small group gained magic while still among those without, and split the worlds themselves in an act of unimaginable power. The new elves lived longer than anything else that walked on land, and forgot little. They aged too slowly for evolution to help them, so they shaped the unforgiving world themselves. Left behind, the humans survived as all other living creatures do. They stayed alive from one generation to the next, adapting and enduring until finally the glaciers melted and the climate was stable enough for such short, forgetful creatures to figure out agriculture and hygiene. Poor things. Why shouldn’t elvenkind give them a hand?

When Marin tells this story to Brian, Sierra, and Clay on their way back west, they’re caught between amusement and horror. Then Sierra mutters “what do we call ‘white man’s burden’ for a bunch of elves”, and the tone shifts so fast they can’t breathe through their laughter. Marin gives them a disapproving look. This isn’t like human racism, he says with disgust. His mother fought slave traders in the Caribbean. This isn’t a made-up justification for elven rule. They’re actually superior this time. The humans remind themselves that keeping Marin’s trust is important for saving the world, and drop it.

This is, of course, a justification. It’s one that the elves need because no matter how cutthroat the nobility are, no elf is eager for a desperate human to end their magical life early with a lucky bullet. After four thousand years of stability, no elf wants to suffer and die in a burned-out field or a city reduced to rubble for a world they do not need. They would rather wait like they’ve waited since Lazarus died. Humans are tough, but they’re outpacing themselves. Let the climate change and the bombs fall. The elves can clean up the aftermath.

Marin’s mother took a different stance. Isn’t it cruel to allow for all that pain? The humans don’t know what’s good for them. The majority of their civilization doesn’t even know things can be different. This is altruism, see? They are acting for the greater good. Most elves love humanity. Even the Voyagers don’t want to watch their coasts sink again. Every year they face cyclones that are still erratic from carbon emissions ten millennia years before. They’re in the height of the hurricane season now.

So when Apex Mercuralis declares that conquest is imminent and that sacrifices must be made, her subjects listen from all of their decentralized corners. Travelers and hermits return home, even entire towns retreat from their human neighbors. A civilization shakes itself awake. There is resistance, of course. Half-elves warn human spouses what is coming. A leading physicist is handed data explaining the mechanics of magic by an unsettling elf with all of the stars in her eyes. Betrayed elves fight in the hills, refusing the Apex’s decree and killing any soldiers who dare fight them without magic. And of course, the spare Sondaica heir and his gifted friends coordinate their army from within a few miles of the palace. If humanity learns the truth and attacks the elves first, then their strike on the elven world will be as devastating and brief as a tidal wave. Better not to risk even a hint of magic where they can see, not with four thousand active nuclear bombs on the table. Amedi Kebero shot an arrow at the runaways once. It struck Sierra’s window while she was working, but even they wouldn’t risk anything more. The elves watch and wait. The humans adapt to impossible circumstances. Every story has a grain of truth to it.

It’s the end of summer and the winds are changing by the bay. This is a seasonal shift, the same as in the elven world. In the end though, the city will either change hands or change climates. The old story doesn’t have a third option. There is no way for power to change.

Brian, Sierra, and Clay know this well. Life at home is identical to what it was before they left on this quest. They play game after game of Pandemic as if the specialized cards will tell their futures, and lose track of everyone else. August fades into September without summer reading to finish or classes to choose. Their now-distant friends post photos of their new dorms. How can Brian talk to a teammate who could be dead of smallpox in a year? Someone who thinks elves work for Santa Claus and that they are all alone in the universe? What good are four seasons on the same team compared to weeks spent fighting for the fate of the world? He can imagine himself wearing the sabertooth tiger of Genus Sondaica or the burnt orange of Genus Adust, but not the Princeton Tigers jersey waiting for him next fall. Their emissary, Essie, the human girl serving in the elven palace, says the plague will come this spring, or maybe in the summer. Disease thrives in the heat.

Essie understands though that her allies know how to fake a future. They may not have been raised as secretaries, but children soak up information like healthy soil. Unrestricted internet access. Eavesdropping as their fathers sway policy. Fliers about saving the whales. The deadline for their despair has become more concrete, but the three slip back into their lives as if they aren’t hiding an alien prince along with them. When a man’s eyes flash neon blue at a self-righteous gala, Brian hides his flinch and smiles for the cameras. Sierra tells everyone she caught a bad cold, even as smallpox scars creep across her shoulders. Clay meets back up with his friends, the artists, and outcasts, but he can’t quite tell them what they should be afraid of. Then the sun sets and Sierra fiddles with bolts until her fingers are stiff. Brian spends every night in Zerada’s arms, or so exhausted he can barely reach a bed before falling asleep. Clay, well, he’s quieter than he used to be. This time under the neon lights he’ll have the words to bring a few more friends into this world.

Other nights they are far from any status quo. Zerada and Jezero sweep in with scratched-up clothes and scandalous news. Trying to align the Lazarin nobles is like herding cats, (sabertooth ones, to be specific), but the siblings are as good messengers as anyone. Her charms, magical and otherwise, don’t hurt. Back in San Francisco, the humans coordinate with nobles over phone calls and covert drop points. They might spend a day on mundane personal projects, only to end it with a midnight call to their mysterious emissary. “Climate change”, Clay jokes “might have been dooming them for years, but that took a lot less work”. He has a paper straw in his coffee anyway. It’s nothing. It’s a symbol. The media coverage for performance will make the elves think twice.

Sierra had asked for deferred admission first. Of the three of them, she deserved her acceptance the most. Sierra’s work with electric engines and all the pieces that made The Audacity was exactly what the Massachusetts Institute of Technology wanted. Her father was a footnote. She got in. There was something compelling about the college. She’s read stories of MIT students: a police car on a roof, a cannon stolen from Caltech, the first hackers. Maybe she’ll finally find someone who can make code speak to her like metal and wires do. It’s a continent away though, Besides, it would be wrong to leave Brian in New Jersey without a goodbye.

He wasn’t in the same situation. They’ve heard Brian quote Wordsworth from memory before dragging his surfboard down to the shore, and his grades are downright stellar, but the world is more blunt than poetry. Their fathers all graduated from Princeton, supposedly the best school in the nation, the same year. Now, thirty-nine years later, Brian is doing the same thing. He got in because he’s a Whitaker, basically. Being good at baseball didn’t hurt either. There’s a team waiting for him, but the trio have been inseparable since birth. He can’t not join them on the road.

Lastly, Clay is also off to Cambridge, Massachusetts, two miles from Sierra. He wanted to go somewhere big and lively, like a state school in California, but the money had to come from somewhere. Once Clay’s acceptance to Harvard showed up in his inbox, Mr. Shepard wouldn’t pay for anywhere else. That means he’s off to fancy nerd school, and who would listen to him complain? Why not defer a year, if Sierra won’t be going east until next September. He can tell what neighborhood of San Francisco he’s in by sound alone. It would be nice to have another summer.

As for Marin, well, delaying his life wasn’t an option. He will attend the Conservatory when he is ninety-nine unless he is too dead to do it. Even Cai spent her nine years enrolled and pretending to fight. However, he could have been preparing, not walking away to chase strangers in the human world. The prince has never sat at a folding table in a gym that smells like rubber and sweat filling in dots with a number two pencil, but he’s been caught between the pages of his history for a long time. Now, he’s found himself impossibly close to holding the scepter in his hands. Never once when he climbed the one-handed statue of Lazarus overlooking the harbor and leaned his head on Zerada’s shoulder did he imagine they could actually rule. It’ll be embarrassing to tell his mother just how right she was right about the human world.

The scepter isn’t in his hands yet, so they plot. They coordinate. Marin starts teaching Brian how to speak Lazarin, Sierra runs countless tests on their guns and gadgets, and Clay trawls missing person reports to find who the elves target. It’s a scattered operation, and their emissary helps where she can. Essie has sent them information through a dozen methods, but most of it is aggravatingly vague. There are the 1 am phone calls, but Sierra has spent much of her August dealing with encrypted emails and PDFs that appear spontaneously in her photo reel covered in shorthand. It seems like their ally has access to anything and everything with an internet connection, and after one off-color joke about Brian’s search history, she begins pretending that she doesn’t. Brian and Sierra also, cautiously, ask their fathers if they think humanity is alone in the universe. If the government has any suspicion that magic is real, then the most powerful man in California will know about it. Sierra’s dad is on the bleeding edge of technology modeled after science fiction, so he might know as well. They know less than the kids do.

Their families are more helpful in other areas. Over six weeks, they put their out-of-context understandings of power into place. The Marolaks are hunters who want to go on the offensive, so it’s James Shepard’s history that suggests they keep the soldiers occupied with a minor task. The Celerons are content to gather their allies in Eurasia and wait out the pandemic, but Travis Bracken has a history of luring hesitant parties to action. Zerada and Jezero are fielding a genus of tricksters, and two Sondaicas have better claims to the throne than Marin. They need another win, and quickly, or else Rhiannon or Lir will take his role.

That is why, after six weeks of doing what they told their colleges they would spend their gap years on, the kids hit the road again. The car is better than ever, with shielding under the exterior and spare tires in the back. They’ve brought things they couldn’t easily buy on the road: stronger headphones, barely legal body armor, and a camera that is far more sensitive to magic than Sierra’s makeshift device. Buried underneath all of that is another box. It’s unlabeled, but that can’t truly hide its contents. N95 respirators. Disinfectant. Plastic gloves. The three of them have faint circular scars across their shoulders, but that won’t guarantee immunity if the elves change their strategy. They won’t be caught dead if it all collapses when they’re on the road.

They tell the Adusts to keep an ear out for a rendezvous point after they’re done up near the border and take the 1-80 north through the central valley. The grass is literally greener than usual, and contrary to their fears, no wildfires interrupt their plans. Clay had wanted to get as far from home as possible before the elves knew they’d left, but Zerada was sure they were being tracked too well for that to matter. She argued they should stay close, in case either group needed backup. Brian turns their radio to a sports broadcast and drives them all the way to the shores of Lake Tahoe. They stretch their legs, but when Brian steps back into the driver’s seat, he’s turning the car to the north.

As the driver, it’s his prerogative to do whatever he wants for ‘evasive maneuvers’. It’s not until the road signs start saying “Susanville 50 Miles” that the other three put the pieces together and start to have a problem.

Marin swings his arms around the back of the driver’s seat and leans in close. Even with Zerada gone, he’s not getting passenger seat privileges back. “What are you even going to do there? You barely knew the kid, and anyone left certainly doesn't know you”.

“How did you…Am I that predictable?” Brian laughs.

Sierra shrugs. “Every time someone had a little league game on, you mentioned that the Betrayed guard had played baseball, so yeah”.

“His name is Sebastian”.

She rolls her eyes. The boy in the glacier prison had said he was from Lassen County, California. It’s a sparsely populated region. Marin says that the Betrayed usually attach themselves to larger human settlements, so their destination is almost certainly the only city in the area. That place is Susanville. Brian is following his paper maps straight towards it.

“As for what I’ll do, I’ll look around? I want to find some evidence that he was here”.

“Evidence?” Clay replies. His feet are on the dashboard. The others turn to him in shock. He’s been quiet during the drive.

“I don’t want to just think of him as a guard. He had a life here”.

They drive through irrigated farmland and dry ground. This is high elevation desert, again, just like where Sierra was shot. It’s bright and hot in a way that feels mentally worse in September than in August. It’s technically summer until the 20th or 21st, but who cares about the equinox? Elves? They’re doing all of this to not follow an elven schedule.

“It feels like a bad omen for the Betrayed to settle here,” Clay says once they start to get close.

Marin sits up in his seat and looks at the houses. “Why? The river still runs. That’s saying something, for humanity”.

“This is a prison town. Rural industry dried up, and then it was the nineties,” he scowls, “and the US was building a prison every two weeks. There’s three nearby and half the population works at one of them. If there are Betrayed here, then odds are that they’re doing guard work too, just like the Mercurali ordered”.

The car swerves slightly as Brian reacts “Working at a prison doesn’t just mean guard work, and the Betrayed were forced. He was like fourteen, Clay. He didn’t have a choice about any of this. And twenty years is nothing for an elf. They couldn’t have known our politics would happen”.

Sierra looks out the window. “They couldn’t have known elven politics would happen either”.

Brian parks the car in town. He and Sierra are going to sneak into the high school and maybe the community college to see if anything is out of place. Marin and Clay will stay near the car. Then, as they all step out and kick up clouds of dust, Clay puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Wait, I need to talk to him”. She lets him go.

With a baseball cap on and his backpack over one shoulder, Brian looks like he’s stepped out of a smaller story. He wishes he had an old address or family records, but even Essie wasn’t sure of details. The Betrayed were understandably not willing to report census data. It seems almost like someone grabbed Sebastian off the street without any procedure at all. Clay runs over. There’s a contrast between the two of them. Clay hasn’t picked up a suntan, and his straight brown ponytail would fit better on a lost adventurer in the wilderness than a boy taking a gap year. He’s wearing hiking books to Brian’s sneakers and long loose sleeves instead of basketball shorts. Clay has a human pistol on one side of his belt, concealed well enough that a stranger wouldn’t even see it. Brian knows to look.

“You shouldn’t do this. They don’t want us here,” Clay explains with deathly certainty, and Brian looks around for an unseen threat.

“We share an enemy, and this is a real city. People come through here all the time”.

Clay sets his jaw and his eyes lose focus behind his glasses. “We’re outsiders. Elves are secret, remember? We used to make fun of Sierra when she mentioned them. They’re not telling us anything”.

“We know what to look for now, and I’d bet people here know too”.

“Christ, Brian! We’re not rich kids out here” You can’t keep expecting solutions to just fall right into your hands”. He practically snarls the words.

“I’m not, I’m trying to do research-”.

“You’re running head-first into an isolated backwater while looking like the boyfriend from High School Musical. The Betrayed might not like the Mercurali but that sure as hell doesn’t mean they like us”.

“Are you okay?” Brian replies without thinking, then realizes his mistake. In his mind, it’s reassuring. They’ve known each other for eighteen years and Clay has been acting strange for weeks. His tone of voice betrays him. Of course Clay is trying to stop him from adventuring. Clay, who’s disgusted with all of human society, not just the United States’s prison system. Clay, whose hands don’t shake when he holds the rifle. Clay, who he feels more and more every second must have shot the Betrayed in his cell block.

“Am I okay? I’ve been the one holding this whole thing together since you lost your mind!”

“What are you talking about!”

Clay tilts his head back and sunlight flashes on his glasses. “I haven’t seen an ounce of restraint from you since Montana, at least. You keep racing from one thing to the next and falling apart! You had a panic attack after Sierra got kidnapped and I had to help. I murder a person, and you get a girlfriend”.

“You can’t blame me for freaking out that our best friend had been abducted by aliens! Sorry that I’m not some perfect killer. I’d rather live my life if you’re right that we’re all probably going to die”.

“Killer”. A long horrible pause. Brian almost feels blood sticking to the back of his neck. Hollow elven bones shatter under a club he swings. Adrenaline and victory. Clay’s never done worse than fire a pistol.

“…You’d just confessed. ‘Murder a person’”.

“That was the plan. That was always the plan. We had to get out. We had to win, or else everyone dies. I kept it together”. He clenches his fists and walks forward. “I’m the only one keeping this together. You play carnival games and talk about the hero's journey… our people are already dying, Brian. This isn’t badass. All of this is miserable! But you are right about one thing. We are probably going to die!”

They stare at each other under the desert sun like Old West outlaws preparing to duel. Brian glances at the pistol in Clay’s belt.

“Tell me you would have killed that boy, and stop looking at my gun”.

“I would’ve. I’d have done it with my hands”. He stares Clay in the eyes. “I may have strong reactions to the likely end of the world and the fact that we can literally save it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not as good as you”.

“Let’s get this over with”.

They walk into the local high school easily. They’re only eighteen, after all, and people hold doors open. This is not a place with security, or much funding at all. In this part of the country, school has been in session for almost a month. They find the library and the clunky computers that Sierra would love like old friends, and take yearbooks from the shelves. No one gives them a second glance, but they stare at every person nearby looking for pointed ears and too-quick movements.

They’re all high school students, in all their teenage diversity. There are boys with sports jerseys and band patches, girls in short shorts and cowboy boots. They observe the cliques from the outside. A single thought rattles through both of their minds. Smallpox used to kill thirty percent of those it infected.

“Do you think we should have checked the middle school instead? He was young”.

Brian says no. Sebastian had taken engineering classes that wouldn’t be at a middle school, but could be at a rural high school like this. There’s no one familiar in the yearbooks, but maybe elves don’t let themselves be photographed.

A girl their age wearing hunting camouflage catches a bundle of pens thrown from across the room and sits down nearby. Her ears are hidden by her hair, but Brian thinks there’s an inhuman reflection in her eyes. She also doesn’t look strictly of european descent, but he won’t say that outloud as reasoning for thinking she’s from a different dimension.

“Odds I go say hi to her in Lazarin?” he asks, and Clay looks at him like he’s doomed the world.

“Right. Impulsive behavior”.

Instead, they cross-reference names online. There’s a lot of teachers in last year’s records that are gone now. It could just be high turnover, but Clay can tell a few were hasty departures. Brian scans Clay’s face for signs that he has seen one of his victims. Then the bell rings loud enough to thrown them back to middle school, not a bloodstained glacier prison.

Clay elbows him in the side and gestures to the girl.

“Put your sunglasses on first”.

Clay stands and leaves with the flow of students. Brian approaches the girl from a distance, nods his head, and says the most basic Lazarin greeting he knows. The girl looks up, shocked and slightly afraid, and hesitates before giving the exact same reply.

“I don’t speak that well. Are you new here?” She says in English.

“Visiting. I have a message though. If you knew him, Sebastian’s doing fine, all things considered”.

Her eyes go wide, but Brian walks out of the school without looking back. He drives deep into Oregon before they feel safe stopping for the night. He hopes what he said was true. It’s been weeks since he saw the kid. He could have been punished, relocated, or worse. Maybe the Mercurali aren’t as against killing as the casualty list implied. Maybe only nobles get their mercy, not anyone out in the desert.

.............

@lokiwaffles @reggie246

#the gap years #my ocs #writing that *is*#by me

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nigh-temptation · 11 months ago

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Alledia, in this version, is split up into 7 countries:

Windsor

Coco

Lufen

Nautilus

Frontera

Kanalis

Gulfeńn (which is split into more regions, or provinces)

(I will draw a better quality map someday 😔)

I made the map a little less of one big supercontinent, and I thought that making this world feel a little bigger would help make this story feel more vast without needing to leave the planet (I am never forgiving Kazu for that goofy ending in book 7, it literally came out of nowhere)

I will update this map later (I’m going to move the mountain range in Gulfeńn to the coast, so that geographically it makes a little sense as to why that whole area is an arid desert, and extend the mountain range up up north a bit)

During the war all the western countries are known as the Common Alliance (or at least, it will be if I don’t think of a less cheesy name). The best way to think about these countries is this:

(The flags are a bit ugly, but I tried my best 😭)

Windsor:

NOT occupied by Gulfeńn yet

the superpower of the CA

It’s really cold up there

Like… wet and cold

This place is just 1940’s England

Their national animal is the whale

I imagine Windsorian cities looking like Dunwall from Dishonored

Coco:

I haven’t come up with much other than it’s a small nation with not that much to offer in the way of trade, and was actually going through negotiations to become a part of Lufen before the war

Not occupied by Gulfeńn

Nautilus:

They are only partially occupied by Gulfeńn

The “front line” country

A lot of citizens have been displaced from here

This country (in my head at least) reminds me a little of Ireland

Frontera:

Completely occupied by Gulfeńn

A lot of elves actually live here

Human-Elf relations here is a lot more chill than in… say Windsor

Kanalis:

Also completely occupied by Gulfeńn

Basically if Chicago was a country

I always read Enzo and Rico’s lines in a Chicagoan accent, because they have Italian names 🤷‍♂️

Lufen:

‘MERICA RAAAHHHH 🦅🦅🦅

Idk, I have it in my head that this is cowboy country

This place is a lot looser than The boarder countries or Windsor

It’s a bunch of farmland broken up by forest, plains, and towns (kinda like where I live)

These guys are technically neutral, but have been sending supplies to Windsor

I will have a separate post for Gulfeńn (and why I am spelling it like that), but for now I want to focus on the human countries.

You might be wondering… how exactly did humans end up on Alledia anyways? Well my friend, I have a surprisingly simple answer for you!

I don’t fully know :/

I’d like to think they stumbled across the “Gate” (or portal thingy that Emily stumbled into) at some point hundreds of years ago, and adapted accordingly… but that leaves a couple of plot holes (how did that many people fit through the Gate? How did people of that many different cultures come all at once?) so let’s just not think about that for now 😅

The time period in which this will be set is more so in the 1930’s-1940’s. Because this is fantasy, we don’t have to be exact, and we can be a bit more flexible with “historical accuracy” or whatever.

I feel like a war oriented story such as this would benefit more from a Dieselpunk aesthetic. That way we have a bit of the modern age to work with, in terms of technology, and a thematic framework for the story right off the bat.

Here is an example of Dieselpunk! This piece is called Gray Monster by Jakub Rozalski:

I think mechs, blimps, and wartime would work perfectly with this genre of punk

final quick note, in my version of this story there are a couple different powers at play: The Common Alliance (bad-ish guys), The Resistance (okay guys), Gulfeńn (bad-ish guys), Ceilis (meh guys), and the Luna Moth Crew (good guys!)

Remember, this is an ongoing WAR. It is NOT a good time to live in Alledia, and the world should feel as such. With that being said, this is not going to be a “gritty” depressing story. I still want to capture the magic that the early books had. We can still have some fun with it!

Let me know what you think and if I should change anything :D

#amulet series #amulet comic #Cam’sAmuletRewrite #kazu kibuishi #duuuudeeeee this took me so long to get the formatting to work 😭#Tumblr ATE like half my paragraphs #anywho… I am super stoked to share my thoughts on elven culture #’cause that’s kinda what started all this #and then after that I will show y’all my redesigns! Which I am also super stoked about

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avacoleman · 11 months ago

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when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either. After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man. As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

chapter 7/8 || rated e || read on ao3 updates every tues. and fri. *

Los Angeles, CA Day 1 They trade one sunny coast for another and Henry has mixed emotions, the likes of which he’s never experienced before. It all, as usual, is linked to his uncertainty over what comes next. He can now count on one hand the amount of days he has left in Alex’s company. He feels grateful for the time they’ve been able to share, but knowing that he’d soon have to part ways has made this all so bittersweet. Henry supposes he’s become spoiled on this tour by Alex’s company, the knowledge that there was always another city to accompany him to. The cold hard fact that this was officially the end of the line settled like an uncomfortable weight on his chest any time he allowed himself to dwell on it. He tries to cling to the good where he can.

Even after a delayed flight out of Miami, Henry saw the upside to it, getting more one-on-one time with Alex as they hung around the gate, trading music and stories back and forth. For all of the physical elements they’d breached while out on the road, it was this genuine friendship with Alex that Henry loved the most.

It’s been a bit uncanny though just how easily they’ve slipped back into a normal routine with each other after that night of their final lesson in Miami. They haven’t spoken about it since; neither of them has even come close to crossing that line now that they’ve finished with Alex’s syllabus. Henry figures that’s probably for the best. Safer even.

They head straight to the Crescent Valley lot from the airport after making it out of the absolute labyrinth of LAX with just enough time to spare.

Seeing the cast together again is a treat and Henry enjoys every bit of watching them film B-roll for the special. Henry wishes Pez could see it all now, but he reminds himself that his best friend will join him during the actual reunion. Alex had been gracious again and secured a spot for Pez alongside him.

Henry sits back and watches the photoshoot the cast does on different sets from the show, admiring their ability to go through outfit changes and touch ups to their hair and makeup. They take it all in stride and it allows them to wrap within a few hours.

It’s a surreal feeling after that to be alone with Alex again, to have him all to himself and journeying back to his place. Henry can admit he’s curious what home in L.A. looks like to Alex, this man who he’s known to be such a nomad over the last three months.

Alex’s condo is a gorgeous unit with floor to ceiling glass windows that bathe the entire space with natural light.

“I bought this at the start of season three,” Alex says as they stand now in the kitchen.

Henry cranes his neck back to take in the high ceilings.

“It’s more space than I really needed at the time. Hell, even now. But I don’t know. I just kinda fell in love with it.”

“I can see why. It’s incredible, Alex. Truly,” he replies, looking at Alex again.

Alex smiles. “I gotta say, it’s kind of trippy seeing you here.”

Henry laughs. “How so?”

Alex shrugs and takes a seat on one of the stools at the large island in the center of the space. Henry takes a seat beside him, their bodies turning toward each other. They're close enough that their knees just about touch.

“I guess after spending three months in hotels, it’s surreal having you in my actual place. It’s nice though, don’t get me wrong. It’s really freaking nice. You got to see my home in Austin and now here. It’s like the last puzzle piece snapping into place, you know?”

Henry doesn’t actually know what to do with that statement. He wishes he could actually fit into the grand scheme of Alex’s life, that he could be an essential piece to complete the picture.

Alex grows quiet, his eyes a bit soft. He rests a hand on Henry’s knee. His thumb brushes back and forth lightly, his lips parting. It’s been days since Alex has touched him this intimately before. It’s downright jarring and confusing how sudden this all feels.

Henry tenses and moves back.

“I think we should stop,” Henry blurts out.

Alex’s face falls for a moment before he schools his features as he pulls away.

“Oh.”

Henry sighs and rises from the stool, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“It’s just that we’ve tackled everything. There’s nothing left on the syllabus. I go home in a few days and with that, we’ll be back on our own coasts for good. I’m practically done with the book. I…I don’t think we should complicate things now.”

Alex doesn’t say anything, but it’s so clear his mind is racing.

“What are you thinking?” Henry asks.

Alex blinks twice and shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Wasn’t that a term in the agreement? One person wanting to stop was reason enough. You even went ahead and gave me your explanation as to why, though you didn’t have to. I respect that. You’re right. The lessons are over. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Alex stands. “I was out of line,” he says as he moves around the island.

Henry is quicker and he gently grabs hold of Alex’s wrist.

“I never quite mastered the art of mind reading in the months we’ve been together. Please talk to me.”

Alex looks down at where Henry is holding him and back up to his face.

“What is there to say?” he asks softly. “You made a great point. We go back to the real world in a couple of days. The smart thing to do would be to start preparing myself for that instead of clinging to whatever this has been these last few months. It wasn’t actually real. I can see that.”

Henry lets go of Alex as if he’d been burned.

“I’ve deeply enjoyed my time with you, Alex. I don’t want to give you a false impression nor do I want to make you think I’m somehow just biding my time, watching the clock until I’m meant to return to New York. I have felt the presence of our time together slipping away each and every day and I’ve loathed it. If I had it my way, this tour would never end and I could stay in your company just that much longer.”

Alex’s bottom lip quirks, his eyes looking glassier with unshed tears.

Henry stands immediately, framing Alex’s face with his hands.

Alex blinks and looks away, but Henry sees the tear race down his cheek. In that quiet cry, Henry understands everything at once.

“When did our lessons stop being hypothetical for you?” Henry asks, lowering his hands.

The muscle in Alex’s jaw flexes twice.

“Can I plead the fifth?” Alex asks, sniffling before turning those beautiful brown eyes back on him.

Henry shakes his head.

“We’ve both done enough dodging, don’t you think?”

Alex pulls in a breath, squaring his shoulders.

“Arizona,” Alex says.

Henry stares at him, his jaw dropping a bit as he grapples to make sense of what he’s hearing.

“Alex, that was day one of the lessons.”

Alex simply shrugs. “I know. But kissing you again, it brought me back to the night we met…the way we connected right off the bat. I felt that same spark when we kissed in Phoenix and I thought, I don’t know. It seemed like you got so lost in it. I thought you might’ve felt it too.”

“I did,” Henry says quietly, rubbing his face. “Christ, Alex. Every bloody second, it’s been real for me because it was real since New York. I’ve traveled with you, falling for you all over again in every single city. But, I…,” he sighs.

“I don’t know where this leaves us though. You don’t date outside the industry.”

Alex's face falls.

“That was my preference at one point in time. It isn’t a law. Things change and they should. They already have.”

Alex’s eyes water again as he lets out a deep sigh.

“The night we met…I felt something I never really have. That didn’t just up and go away after you left. I really like you, Henry. Sometimes I think I may even–,” he stops short and takes a breath.

Henry’s heart slams against his chest over Alex’s unspoken words.

Alex swallows hard and blinks twice.

“I don’t mean to complicate things and I sure as hell do not want to scare you off. But I can’t lie anymore. To you or to myself. I won’t.”

Alex searches his eyes. “Do you want to be with me?”

Stunned, Henry looks away. It feels like too much, the question too big and yet too exact.

“I don’t see how this could work. We don’t even live in the same time zone.”

“That’s not what I asked. It’s a simple question. Do you want to be with me?” Alex repeats slowly.

Henry glances back at him then. Alex is being so brave right now. It’s both admirable and terrifying the way he’s able to put so much of himself on the line. Henry knows he ought to do the same.

“Desperately,” he answers truthfully, seeing no other alternative. “But I fear it might not be as simple as you think it’ll be– though I want it to be. I wish that it were.”

Alex opens and closes his mouth, color draining from his face.

“Henry. Henry, please don’t do this.”

Henry lets out a breath.

“I’m not doing anything. I’m only being realistic.” He looks around himself.

“We lead such vastly different lives. Being on tour with you was exciting and fascinating, but also illuminating. I don’t know how or even if I could fit into your world beyond this moment.”

He dares to step a little closer, needing his next set of words to be heard clearly.

“But, Alex, please do not misconstrue that with what I feel for you. Never in my life have I felt this drawn to a person. I don’t expect that I ever will again.”

Alex puts a hand to his mouth, rubbing harshly against his jaw.

“Then why are you doing this to us? I don’t understand you. We’ve been at this for months now. We want the same thing. Why isn’t that enough?” he asks, his hand dropping.

“It seriously kills me to see you do this to yourself especially.”

His eyes are so intense, a perfect cocktail of frustration and sadness. Henry can’t look at him for long.

“At some point, Henry, you need to accept the fact that there’s so much waiting for you, if only you allowed yourself to actually experience it.”

His tone isn’t malicious, but the truth of his words cuts deep all the same.

“I’m not naive or stupid,” Alex continues. “I fully get that long distance would be difficult as hell, but I also fully recognize that you and the relationship we could have would be worth it. What we have matters to me enough to want to try.”

Henry’s head snaps back towards him.

“It matters to me too. That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Alex demands. He closes his mouth and steadies himself.

In all their time together, Henry has never seen Alex like this before, this indignant. The fact that it’s directed towards him makes Henry uneasy though he can’t deny it’s more than warranted.

“You’re cutting us off at the knees without so much as putting up a fight, without even making an actual attempt and for what? You don’t think I’m scared? I’m fucking terrified by what I feel for you. But I want whatever is on the other side of this feeling because I know it could be incredible if we let it be. All I’m asking is for you to trust me. To trust us.”

Henry shakes his head and looks away again, his eyes stinging. He looks around at Alex’s condo, the life he’s built for himself here in Los Angeles. For the times Alex would be away, he could be in any city across the country at any given moment. In just a few months’ time, the revelations in his memoir would be out and he'd have no shortage of far more interesting people vying for his attention while Henry continued drowning in his insecurities.

Yet here it was now, Alex telling Henry he wanted him. Alex was right. That should be enough. That’s all Henry has wanted to hear for months now, after all.

But Henry could do the right thing now, no matter how difficult, to spare them both the inevitable heartbreak down the line when they accepted love wasn’t enough.

Henry simply wasn’t the kind of person people ultimately stayed around for. Perhaps he’d be wiser and walk away before Alex could.

“I should go,” Henry says, wiping unseemly at his nose, nodding to himself.

Alex's face falls as he rakes a hand through his hair, his curls sticking out wildly at the ends. He looks nothing like the leading man on screen, the heartthrob that’s won over millions on television. He looks vulnerable and scared and Henry despises himself for reducing Alex to this.

“Please don’t. Let’s just talk it out. I’m not trying to pressure you,” Alex says quickly, voice panicked. All his upset from moments before fizzling like a fire being extinguished.

Henry shakes his head and looks at him.

“You aren’t. You’re saying all the right things and I know you mean them. I do. I care so much about you, Alex. I need you to know that. You deserve so much more than I could give you.”

“I just want you, Henry. I don’t care about anything else. You have to see that.”

In truth, Henry does. If anything, that’s what scares him most of all.

“I need to think. I need…,” he trails off, desperately looking around again. It feels like the walls are closing in.

“Time. Time away from me especially,” Alex supplies quietly.

Henry’s heart breaks.

“It’s not like that.”

Alex holds up a hand.

“I get it. Or at least I’m trying to.”

It’s a kindness Henry doesn’t feel deserving of at all.

Alex moves back, resting against the edge of the counter, his arms crossed to his chest like a barrier to protect himself. Henry can’t believe just how quickly he’s managed to become something Alex needs safety from.

“Maybe you really should go,” he says quietly.

Fresh tears prick Henry’s eyes at the gentle dismissal.

“I’m in no position to ask anything of you, but please, don’t hate me. I’m so sorry.”

Alex shakes his head and looks back at him then. There’s no malice or ire.

“I could never. You know that. We can talk when you’re ready.”

His tone is detached and whatever walls they’ve allowed themselves to lower over these last few months feel as if they’ve been reinstalled, built stronger this time around. There’s no fight in Alex anymore. It’s a deeply sobering and troubling realization.

“I promise, we will,” Henry says softly.

At least that’s something he knows he can make good on in time.

He looks at Alex again and his heart breaks just that much more. It doesn’t look as if Alex fully believes him. Henry can’t fault Alex. He knows he hasn’t given him a reason to.

~*~*~

The Uber back to the hotel the publisher arranged for him feels like the loneliest journey Henry has ever taken in his life, far worse even than leaving England for a new life in New York.

This isn’t how he pictured his first day in Los Angeles to go. Right about now, he and Alex should have been taking on the city, with Alex showing him around like a personal tour guide to all his favorite places.

It wasn’t supposed to end with Henry feeling as if he’s about to throw up, his stomach twisted into knots in the backseat of a stranger’s car, driving away from Alex instead of to him.

He fights back tears, having enough presence of mind not to sob like every cell in his body is demanding he do. No, that can wait. He’s already embarrassed himself enough for one afternoon. He doesn’t need an audience.

Mercifully he makes it to the hotel and gets checked in. The second the door to his room shuts behind him though, Henry loses it completely.

He isn’t sure how long he stands there, struggling for breath as he sobs, but he pulls himself together enough to seek out something to tether him.

He fumbles for his phone, overtaken for a moment with a thought to call Alex, to tell him he’s made a mistake, to grovel if he has to in order to set things right.

Instead, Henry pulls up Pez’s name in his favorites and clicks to FaceTime him as he steps further into the room, abandoning his carryon at the door and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Pez picks up mere seconds later.

“Hello, hello!” Pez greets brightly, his face falling immediately as he looks at Henry.

“My God. You look as if someone has passed on. Henry, what on Earth happened to you?”

“Pez, I ruined everything,” Henry says, his throat feeling so tight from keeping in his tears.

Henry feels homesick seeing Pez’s bedroom in the background, his posters of various pop stars and fashion icons in collages above his bed.

What Henry wouldn’t give to be back in New York now, to be somewhere familiar and safe. Instead he’s stuck in this lifeless hotel room feeling cut off from everyone he loves most.

“Alex…we…,” he trails off before a heavy sob overtakes him.

If this were anyone else in the world seeing him like this, save for perhaps Bea, Henry would rather die. But Pez has seen him through so many upsets. This one won’t be any different.

“I got scared and I took off and...he says he doesn’t hate me, but he most certainly should. I broke his heart. I know I did. God, Pez, if you’d seen his face.”

Pez looks anxious but he doesn’t push Henry to hurry along. He gives him his undivided attention and once Henry trusts himself to share, he launches into the full story of the afternoon.

Pez’s face grows concerned the more he talks and Henry thinks it says something about this story that Pez is uncharacteristically quiet.

“Everything was perfect. I don’t know why I did this,” Henry says, confusion coloring his words.

Pez lowers his gaze, his lips pinching together.

“What is it?” Henry asks.

Pez pulls in a breath, his cheeks puffing up before he lets the air out.

“I say this with absolute love. You are my nearest and dearest friend in this chaotic and beautiful world. You know you are like family to me.”

The preamble makes Henry nervous, but he knows he deserves whatever harsh truth Pez is gearing up to bestow.

“You’ve always had it in your head that you don’t deserve good things. When things feel too good to be true, it scares you. It’s almost like, you need to pull the rug from under yourself before someone else does,” Pez says, not unkindly.

Henry sits back and lets those words wash over him. It’s a fact. He’s always known that about himself, as much as he hates it.

“I don’t mean to do it. I can’t help it.”

Pez looks sympathetic.

“I know, darling. You’ve been hurt before by people you trusted. I’m no psychologist, but I don’t think it’s hard to see where it stems from.”

His brother’s and grandmother’s faces spring to mind. Henry squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to block them out.

“Perhaps this time around, you might find yourself keen to do things differently. Seeing you guys, even from that little time in Denver and the way you talk about him…the fact that he wants to give this a fair shot…Henry, this could be so beyond amazing. There’s life outside your comfort zone.”

Henry runs a hand through his hair. He’s never been good at taking chances. His life has been a study in complacency.

“But what if something goes wrong?” he asks, searching Pez’s eyes on screen.

“On the severe off chance that it does, you’ll deal with it then. But right now? Hazza, I’ve never seen you like this over a guy before and I got just a taste of it. Darling, this man could give you a whole lifetime of happiness for all you know. It sure sounds like he’s willing to try.”

Henry’s eyes well up again, a sour feeling tight in his throat as he tries to keep from crying.

After a moment, he loses the battle. He allows himself to feel the hurt, to truly shed tears over the utter mess he’s made of things.

He wipes at his face, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks at his best friend. There’s no judgment or ridicule in Pez’s eyes and Henry wishes they were actually in a room together now.

“Henry, my love, my moon, my stars. Can you promise me something?”

Henry sees his confused face in the little window on the corner of his screen. Pez licks his lips, his eyes softening.

“Please don’t lock yourself away. Don’t go dark. I’ll be with you in just a few days’ time. Please try to hold on until then.”

Henry wants to be able to swear an oath, but the way he’s feeling now, he’s not so sure he will even have the strength to stand, never mind get back to aligning himself to Alex’s Crescent Valley schedule for the homestretch.

Dread courses through him just thinking about having to cross paths with Alex soon.

“It hurts so much, Pez. Everything hurts,” he says, a complete non-answer.

He can tell Pez realizes this too, but he must sense Henry doesn’t have much fight left in him. He doesn’t push the point again.

“Because it matters. You wouldn’t be feeling this much pain if it didn’t. Question is, what will it fuel you to do next?”

~*~*~

Los Angeles

Day 2

Though he hadn’t actually promised Pez anything, Henry does his best to uphold his best friend’s wishes the next day.

Every inclination Henry has is to stay holed up inside his hotel room, to pass the time by watching the sun cast shadows throughout the day until nightfall.

In all fairness, that is what Henry allowed himself to do after hanging up with Pez, but today, he’s determined to let go of at least one bad habit and not isolate himself.

He takes a shower first thing in the morning and makes a point to eat and get dressed in something other than joggers. Henry collects his phone and laptop before heading out into the world. It’s a strange thing wandering around a city he’s never been to before by himself, but it’s also pretty freeing too. He’s just another face in the crowd.

He sets up shop in a quaint coffee shop he happens across. He opts for a window seat, able to observe passerby as he nurses an Earl Grey. As his laptop comes to life, his phone buzzes on the tabletop, the screen lighting up with an incoming message that’s quickly followed by another.

Alex

you don’t have to respond to this message. i know you need more time and honestly? so do i.

Alex

i just wanted to say that, for what it’s worth, i hope you’re okay. i’ll see you soon…if you’re still planning on coming to the set

Henry stares at the screen, his heart twisting at the messages.

No matter what, the book ranked supreme. Whatever personal drama he was responsible for causing to unfold, Henry held fast to keeping his word. He wouldn’t let anything impact their professional dealings.

He’d see Alex for the filming in two days. There’d be little to say to Alex– if anything at all.

He could survive the awkwardness. After today, he only had to endure a few more days in California until he’d be back in New York, able to put this whole unexpected whirlwind behind him.

Henry sighs and sets his phone down again, opting not to reply.

He puts on his headphones and drowns himself in music and writing. He takes another pass at his most recent edits to Alex’s book but he knows it’s ready to go. He makes a mental note to find a shop in the area to print it out before closing the doc entirely and takes a look at his drive.

It’s truly a graveyard of unfinished pieces, stories he loved but grew discouraged by before fully completing them.

Henry opens up his favorite, his mind swimming with the memory of the promise he made to Alex, that he’d return to his original writing and pursue it in earnest this time around.

In a way, it almost feels like honoring the dynamic they were building.

Henry dives into it headfirst, fueled by the desire to keep his word in some capacity when it comes to Alex.

He’s interrupted an hour or so in when he gets an incoming call. Henry grabs his phone and sees Shaan’s name on the screen before he answers quickly.

“Hi, Shaan. How’s everything?” he asks, tearing his eyes off his screen.

The coffee shop is relatively empty; there’s no one in close range to him that he’d be disturbing by taking this call.

“Everything is brilliant or at least I thought you’d know that. Have you checked your email yet?”

Intrigue seeps through Henry enough to make him switch over on his browser to his inbox where an email from Shaan from thirty minutes ago sits right on top. Henry double clicks on the offer, his eyes catching first onto the insane figure at the bottom. It’s twice what he’s receiving for Alex’s book and yet he feels not even a fraction of excitement over it. He tries picturing himself working with this other actor, a name he actually does recognize as the man has been on the same procedural for half of Henry’s life.

Henry doesn’t even feel an ounce of interest nor can he even fake it.

“So? What do you think?” Shaan asks.

Henry frowns and looks out the window, trying in vain to muster up something to say. But Shaan reads his hesitancy for what it is.

“You’re really done, aren’t you?”

Henry closes out of the tab with his inbox and looks again at his own writing.

“In one sense, yes,” he says. “I can’t write for other people anymore. I’m losing myself too much.”

“Is everything okay with you and Alex? I thought things were going well on the road. Your passes have been impeccable.”

Henry bites on his lip. Technically things are far from fine with Alex, at least personally. But professionally, at least he can be honest and say, “I think he and I have been amazing together for his book. That’s actually what’s giving me this push now.”

Henry sighs.

“It was always going to come to this at some point. This new offer is incredible, but I just…I can’t wonder what if anymore. I still want to write, but I need it to be my words plus my name out there.”

Shaan is quiet on the line and Henry wonders if he’s somehow managed to break his agent’s brain. The amount of money being offered here is such a clear indicator that Henry is truly carving out a lane for himself with ghostwriting. But it’s not fulfilling. It hasn’t been for quite some time now with the exception of Alex’s book.

“I understand. I’ll decline the offer,” Shaan says. “I do hope this means you’ll get something to me soon that’s all your own then?”

Henry smiles. “I was actually just in the middle of that before you called.”

“I won’t keep you any longer then. Get back to work,” he orders, but Henry can hear the mirth in the command.

He’s ready to end the call when he hears Shaan speak again.

“Henry?”

Henry puts the phone back to his ear.

“Yes?”

“Pardon the sentimentality, but, I do hope you know that I’m quite proud of you.”

“You’re getting soft on me, Shaan,” Henry teases, but he soon grows serious. “I do though. I can’t even begin to tell you how much that support means to me.”

~*~*~

Los Angeles, CA

Day 4

“I feel like a bonafide star right now,” Pez says, completely looking the part with his cat eye sunglasses that he moves smoothly to rest atop his head.

He puts his hands on his hips and looks at the reserved seats in the front row of the stands with their names on it.

Ever since Pez arrived late yesterday afternoon, Henry has felt so much more settled. They spent the evening exploring Los Angeles, popping into different shops along Sunset Boulevard where Pez came across the very shades he’s donning now. Being out and about had been enough to take Henry’s mind off his troubles for a little while longer.

But today, there could be no avoiding the elephant in the room and Pez was armed at the ready with a well-needed pep talk before they arrived here at the studio for the reunion filming.

They take their seats as excited fans in the audience around them settle in too. The buzz is so reminiscent of the crowds at cons that, for a moment, Henry feels as if he’s right back on the road with Alex.

For the millionth time, Henry’s mind conjures up a montage of their time together on tour. These last three months haven’t had any shortage of good moments. But it’s these last three days that have put it all into such a tailspin.

Before Henry can spiral any further, the reunion gets underway. A video plays with some of the most popular, fan favorite moments of the series. Each time Alex’s face pops up on the screens, Henry’s heart twinges a little. The video ends with the final shot of the series, the Crescent Valley signage appearing as the video fades to black. The audience cheers and gives an enthusiastic round of applause that somehow gets kicked up twenty notches when the lights come up and the cast is seated on the soundstage.

Henry immediately locks his sights on Alex. It’s been three days and every moment, both waking and asleep, has been consumed with thoughts of him. He looks incredible, perfectly at ease among his castmates and before a crowd. Henry is all too familiar with this public side of Alex. He plays the part so well, Henry wonders if the other version of Alex even wonders or even cares to know if Henry is in the crowd tonight.

The reunion is an absolute treat. The cast recounts their favorite scenes and arcs on the show and divulge behind-the-scenes secrets. They share never before seen footage that hadn’t made it onto the show. In many ways, it’s truly a love letter to the fans. He can feel that with each tidbit that gets offered up, in every thoughtful answer to questions they receive from the show's creator who acts as host.

Alex’s eyes find Henry’s for the briefest of moments as they wind down and Henry instantly feels the air get knocked out of him. His skin tingles, his blood rushing so loudly in his ears that he can barely hear any of the closing remarks the actors are now saying.

He jumps a little in his seat when the audience begins to clap. Henry blinks twice and looks over at Pez who eyes him quizzically before looking back towards the soundstage.

Henry follows his lead and joins in the applause as the cast waves at the in-studio audience and to the cameras until they wrap.

All around him, people are getting to their feet, talking amongst themselves about the in-depth discussion with the cast but it all sounds like static to Henry as his eyes trail after Alex as he leaves with his castmates.

“Shall I see you later then?” Pez says.

Henry snaps his head back to his best friend.

“What do you mean? I thought we would go back together.”

Pez scoffs. “If you think I’d allow you to leave here without speaking to Alex, then clearly you’ve lost your mind somewhere in this city. I of course, being the generous person that I am, would help you find it. But only after you work your way backstage and talk to that man. We go home tomorrow, Hazza. This is your only chance to do this face to face.”

Henry frowns.

“So, as I’ve said, I’ll see you later, honey bunny. Ta.”

Pez gives him a kiss on each cheek before leaving without another word. It’s truly amazing how anxious Henry feels without Pez beside him. He’s practically been a human security blanket since they met years ago.

He knows Pez is right. This isn’t the kind of talk he wants to do over the phone. Alex deserves far better than that, especially after the way Henry left him a few days ago. Even if this time away from each other has somehow hardened Alex’s heart, Henry is ready to face the consequences of his actions.

He makes his way backstage, following the same path Alex and the cast just made.

A few members of the crew recognize him from his first day on set and let him through without incident.

Henry winds down the corridors towards the cast greenrooms. He hadn’t gone back here that first day, but the helpful signs guide him. He can hear chatter behind a few closed doors along the way, but he doesn’t pay attention to any room for longer than a second as he searches for Alex’s name.

He finds Alex’s designated room at the very end of the hall. He leans in close to the door, trying to gauge if Alex is still in. It’s silent but as Henry gets ready to turn away, he hears a heavy sigh on the other side of the door.

He knocks quietly twice.

“Alex? Are you in there? Might I come in and have a word?”

There’s the sound of rustling and footsteps and within a few breaths, Alex appears before him.

Henry’s heart sinks a little. Alex’s face is indifferent, closed off even. It’s as if he’s looking at Henry without really seeing him. For the cameras and fans just moments before, he was his usual vibrant self. Alone here now, the mask is completely off and shattered.

Alex searches his face, the only real indicator that he’s presently registering Henry’s appearance at all.

These last few days have clearly taken their toll on him.

“I thought you might’ve left already,” Henry says pointlessly.

Alex’s eyes haven’t stilled. After a moment, he blinks twice and shakes his head.

“I probably should have, but I needed a minute. Everyone is going out to celebrate in a bit. I’m not sure I’m feeling up for it though.”

Henry frowns.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil this for you. These past few days…I’ve acted horribly.”

Some folks a few doors down laugh about something, clearly in a happy mood. The contrast to Henry and Alex now is staggering.

Henry glances toward the sound of their merriment and back to Alex, looking past into his dressing room.

“Come in,” Alex says, stepping back so Henry can enter.

Henry looks around the room. There’s a clothing rack with a few of the outfits Alex wore during the promotional filming yesterday. There are a few floral arrangements spread throughout the room too, clear markers of just how much there is to celebrate now.

“I should have gotten you flowers to commemorate. But maybe you’ll like what I’ve brought instead.”

Alex’s brows furrow as he leans against the vanity, his arms crossed over his chest. Henry isn’t quite sure how to gauge what Alex must be thinking or feeling about his presence here. But the fact that Alex permitted him into his greenroom is at least somewhat promising.

Henry flips open his messenger bag and takes out the bound manuscript he had printed right after he left the coffee shop a few days ago, eager to hold this project in his own two hands.

Alex’s eyes widen, a soft breath pushing past his lips.

“Is that really…is that our book?”

Henry smiles as he steps forward and hands it over. Alex takes it from him, staring in awe and thumbing through.

“It’s your book, Alex. It’s your story. I just helped put it on the pages.”

Alex looks up at him.

“It was a partnership from day one,” he says and Henry hears the double meaning in it.

Henry concedes the point, his hands gripping the strap of his bag for something to do.

“I’ve actually received an offer to do another,” he says.

Alex looks up quickly at that, his hands clutching the manuscript tighter.

“Is that right? What’d you say?”

Henry smiles tentatively.

“That I want to end on a high note with your memoir as I leave ghostwriting behind.”

Alex sets down the manuscript and stands up straight.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Henry can feel his face warm up a bit as he nods.

“You were right. I’ve been depriving myself of a lot of things out of fear and it’s holding me back. Truthfully, it’s been rather debilitating most days. That’s no way to live and I’m tired of it. Of myself really,” he says.

“So, I’ve set about making some proper changes. I told Shaan thanks but no thanks on that offer and I spoke to him about wanting to query my original fiction. I went back to a few of my works in progress and I feel hopeful. Confident even that I might be able to make something worthwhile with them.”

Alex smiles at him, a genuine affectionate thing that Henry doesn’t feel worthy of but he basks in it.

“I’m so proud of you, Henry. Seriously. I can’t wait to be first in line to buy your books.”

This stuns Henry for a moment. For all that they’ve been through these last few days, it touches his heart to know Alex would still want to support him, that he’d remain in his corner.

“First I need to actually turn something in to go on submission. We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here,” he says, aiming to keep things light a little while longer. He’s all too aware of the elephant in the room.

Alex waves him off.

“I’m speaking into existence. It’s bound to happen for you. You were given a gift. This is meant to be. I know it.”

“You and the universe,” Henry says, more so to himself.

Alex shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his arms again almost defiantly.

“Some things are destined. I stand by that.”

“Like, maybe, you and I?”

The words fall from Henry’s lips so quickly that for a moment he doesn’t realize he’s actually uttered them aloud until Alex’s previously warm eyes shutter. He stands ramrod straight and falls silent as he stares at Henry.

Henry’s heart beats faster, but doesn’t lose his nerve. He can’t afford to. Not anymore.

“As I’ve said, fear and, admittedly, insecurity have been plaguing me for far too long. I've stood in my own way. I’ve held myself back from opportunities because I haven’t felt deserving of them. Doing so in my career was bad enough. Now with you…,” he trails off, arms falling to his side.

“I’ll never forgive myself for the way I acted back at your place. For months now, I’ve been dying to hear that you feel deeply for me, as I do for you. Yet still I froze when it proved itself to be real. It felt too good to be true and so I convinced myself that it was.”

Henry frowns.

“I’ve become something of a professional at blowing my life up. I don’t want to do the same with yours. There would be no coming back from that.”

Henry’s lips quiver, but he steels himself, forcing himself to keep going.

“In your text, you said you needed time. If you aren’t ready to talk about us now, I’d completely understand. Maybe now isn’t the best time to speak of this, but I didn’t want to leave here without at least trying. I know that makes me horrendously selfish. I swear I’m not trying to be. I only wish for you to understand. To know that you’ve done nothing wrong. I hope you haven’t been placing any blame on yourself.”

Alex avoids his gaze. Henry didn’t think it was physically possible, but his heart sinks even further.

“Oh, Alex.”

Alex looks at him. “I thought I came on too strong.”

Henry shakes his head.

“Not at all. You don’t know how much joy you brought me. I got in my own head and spoiled it for both of us. That wasn’t right.”

Henry sighs and looks around at all the flowers Alex has been gifted. This should be a happy time in his life, yet now he was spending almost an entire week troubled and filled with doubt.

“I feel like I’m overshadowing and ruining your reunion excitement with all my foolishness.”

Alex reaches for his hands.

“Keep talking. You aren’t wrecking anything, I promise.”

Henry brushes his thumbs back and forth across the backs of Alex’s hands. He marvels at the smoothness of Alex’s skin, not to mention the warmth.

He feels water begin to well in his eyes, his throat constricting.

“I need to know what you’re thinking. You’re annoyingly good at damn near everything,” Alex says, though his voice trails off a little.

“Except for letting people in,” Henry concludes.

Alex gives his hands a gentle squeeze, subtly urging him to talk.

“Think of it as an area of improvement.”

Henry recognizes his own words from their very first day of this tour being playfully tossed back at him. Henry smiles a little in spite of himself.

“I guess…I know that I’m worried I won’t be worth the effort at some point. I know you mean what you say now, but so much is in store for you once this comes out,” he says, tipping his chin towards where the manuscript sits.

“My life feels as if it’s in limbo, a no man’s land. You have everything in order and here I am just floating. I…truly do feel like a ghost sometimes. Apt career on my part, I suppose.”

Alex’s brows knit together. Concern etched into his beautiful face. He cups Henry’s cheek and Henry greedily leans into his touch.

“Well, I can see you,” he says.

“Thank God for that.”

Alex smiles, his thumb brushing the apple of Henry’s cheek.

“All the same,” Henry continues, “I go back to New York for good tomorrow. There will be three thousand miles between us. Sometimes I worry…proximity has played such a key role these last three months. Soon you’ll have scores of men added to the mix who are far more along with themselves, with their careers. They’d be vastly more interesting and perhaps better suited for you than I.”

He stops himself, realizing how pathetic he must sound. But from the way Alex looks at him, it’s clear the other man isn’t judging or pitying him.

“Hen, I could live on the goddamn moon and I would still want us to try. You mean everything to me. I don’t care who comes out of the woodworks when the news breaks. And I sure as shit do not care that you’re still figuring some things out. You’re currently talking to the poster child of that. We literally worked on a book together about that very same thing.”

Something changes in Alex’s eyes. They grow fiercer as he lowers his hand from Henry’s face.

“I swear to God, I want to cage fight anyone that’s ever made you feel like you aren’t worthy because there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to be with you, do you understand me?”

“I do. I just…I don’t know why or even how I managed that.”

Alex swallows hard, his eyes softening again. He looks vulnerable and already it makes Henry’s heart ache.

“Henry, I love you. I love you so fucking much. You don’t even see how freaking exceptional and rare you are. I wish that you would. But I’ll be here to tell you every damn day if I have to because it won’t ever stop being true.”

Henry blinks twice and tears fall from his eyes immediately.

“I clearly have some things I need to work on. But I promise, I am in this with you, Alex. I love you too. Terribly. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I meant what I said the other day. You’re unmatched. You’ve had my heart for quite some time now and I know that you always will. It’s terrifying and exciting all in one breath and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The look of relief on Alex’s face makes Henry hate himself for ever making him worry or doubt his place in Henry’s life. He feels grateful now to at least be able to demystify Alex’s fears.

“So much of my life feels up in the air right now, but not my feelings about you. You’re one of the few things I feel sure of anymore,” Henry continues.

Henry leans in closer and touches his forehead to Alex’s. Alex hugs him at once and Henry sighs softly in the comfort of his arms.

It’s only been a few days since he last held Alex, but Henry has missed everything about this level of contact. He buries his face against Alex’s neck, breathing him in and clinging to the warmth of his body.

It hadn’t actually been New York he was missing when he’d called Pez the other day. It’d been here, the safety of Alex embracing him. Here in his arms, nothing can touch him, not even his traitorous, sabotaging mind.

Alex pulls back to look at him and Henry’s eyes sting with unshed tears, his mind racing with all the words he’s been keeping in since they last spoke openly.

Alex doesn’t give him a chance to say anything just yet as he leans in and kisses him. Henry’s heart jumpstarts, goosebumps rising on his arms as he kisses Alex back.

It’s still slow and sweet, but there’s an undercurrent of longing and anxiety coming from Alex. Henry answers it in kind with reassurance, imbuing the kiss with a wordless promise that Alex will never have to be without him again.

They break apart but stay close enough for their foreheads to touch. Henry keeps his arms wrapped around Alex as the man drapes his arms over Henry’s shoulders and combs through his hair lightly. It’s a simple gesture, but it lights Henry up.

There are still a million things he needs to say. Above all though, an apology seems most pressing.

“I’m so sorry.”

It hardly feels like enough.

I’m sorry I ran that day. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I almost ruined everything. He hopes Alex understands all that this encompasses.

Then again, he always seems to.

Alex sighs and Henry feels the slight tremble in his hands as he continues to stroke his hair soothingly.

“I’m just glad you felt safe enough to come back.”

Henry runs a hand up Alex’s chest, to the key that dangles near to his heart.

“I’m always going to find my way back home to you.”

#rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #userthai #tusersonia #tuserpaige #usernicholas #usersteen #tusersilence #userjamiec #iuserzoe #uservalentina #kimmy writes

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