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manicpixiedreamcurl · 1 year ago

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The More You Give ❧ (Part VII)

Pairing | Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Warnings | 18+ only, do not interact if you are underage. Heavy petting, P in V sex, soft dom!Eddie. Discussion of uncomfortable sexual experiences. Inordinate amount of praise kink, good girl's, and vulnerability on both sides.

Word count | ~10,000

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Previous Chapter

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Most days, walking into the cafeteria comes with a cool sense of dread. A heaviness in your chest, mind working overtime to prepare yourself for an hour not quite talking with your not quite friends. You’re never sure what you prefer; the white hot shame that comes with laughter at your expense, or the simmering ache from being ignored entirely.

But there’s a levity to your mood today. You’re proud, or maybe more accurately relieved, at the circled red letter on the top right of your Chemistry test.

You spot May at the usual table as you file in, catching her excited wave over the head of some of the cheer girls. The others offer a cursory glance before returning to their conversation, but May’s expression is expectant. “So? How’d you do?”

You grin. “A minus.”

“I knew it!” She squeals, removing her bag from the chair next to her to make space for you. “You always make a big deal out of tests, and then breeze through!”

She’s half right.

Something about the weight of potential failure, some unknown consequence to doing poorly, always has you worrying about tests days prior, heart pounding in the moments before you flip the paper. Then you second guess yourself all the way through, scribbling over wrong answers before writing the same thing down again.

But you certainly don’t breeze through. The weight of this test on your mind had you bursting into tears in Eddie’s van last week. What was supposed to be a movie theatre date turned into an impromptu study session at the library. Eddie sat opposite you while you read over your notes, writing up his campaign ideas and flicking through a book he’d found in the fantasy section before working begrudgingly on an essay about JFK he was supposed to have handed in the week before. He switched to the seat next to you when you failed to hide a sniffle, let you tuck yourself under his arm and press your face to his shoulder.

“C’mon,” he said eventually, coaxing you out from the damp spot on the collar of his shirt. “Talk me through what you don’t get, okay? I bet the answer’s up here.” He pressed a finger to your forehead, narrowing his eyes like he could pinpoint the spot in your brain the information was hiding. “We just gotta knock it loose somehow.”

He must, truly, have been bored to death as you went through the problem, starting over again and again each time you explained yourself into a corner. But he listened anyway, prompted you to keep going until you came to an answer that satisfied you, a conclusion that made sense, and then he listened to the next problem.

You apologised at the end of the night. For all the hysterics, for dragging him along to a joyless evening. He’d swiped the thought away with a casual wave of his hand. “You couldn’t be my smart girl if you didn’t have to study sometimes.”

Just thinking about it now, your eyes flicker from May’s hand on the back of the empty chair beside her to the place Eddie sits, far on the other side of the room.

It’s an invisible line you haven’t crossed, spending any time with him at lunch. Eddie would never let you question whether he wanted you to sit with him, never let you worry about seeming clingy. He’d made it clear you were always welcome. What stopped you was that tug at your heart, that feeling that you’d be taking another step away, putting more distance between you and your friends. Or May, at least. You can’t remember the last time Heather sat with you more than once a week.

And you promised, sincerely, that you would try a bit harder with the cheer girls. Apart from that one tipsy conversation with Tracy at a party, you’re not sure you’ve quite fulfilled that.

But you want so badly to tell him. Shamefully, it was your first thought when you turned your paper over today. Along with the usual relief came excitement, knowing Eddie would be pleased for you and make it clear, call you his smart girl till your face burns hot.

“I’m just-” You start, tucking your bag up on your shoulder, glancing back to May. “I’m just gonna show Eddie quickly.”

There’s a pause. Her pleased expression, the gentle curve of her wax pink lips, doesn’t falter. Instead, it seems to calcify on her face. “Oh. You’re gonna sit over there?”

“Just for a while,” you reason. “Just to show him my grade. Okay?”

She makes a high mm hmm noise, half agreeing, half unsure, but you decide to take it at face value, making a beeline for Eddie’s table.

As usual, he sits at the head, the frizz of his hair lit up in the natural light from the window behind him. His expression is a touch bored, eyes blinking slowly, chin resting on his palm as a boy at the other end of the table - young, with tight brown curls tucked under a yellow cap - talks a mile a minute. You catch the words radio and roof as you approach, but your own mind goes blank when you reach them.

You’d feel only excitement, if it was just Eddie who noticed your presence. For his part, his whole posture changes; from slumped over the table to sitting straight up, his pouty lips turning to an excited smile in your direction as his hand drops away from his chin. But on top of that, six additional faces turn to watch you walk up the side of the table. Maybe you could handle three, used to some attention from Jeff, Gareth and Matthew at this point, comfortable in their acceptance of your silly little fidgets and occasional long silences.

But the other three, all freshmen, staring at you like you grew another head on the way over, have you shuffling in place, playing with the strap of your bag. You vaguely know Mike from watching him run out the door on the occasions you’ve babysat Holly, though his hair is a good couple inches longer than the last time you spent an evening at the Wheeler’s. The others, Lucas and Dustin, you know both from Eddie’s descriptions and his complaints.

“Hi,” you say, voice quieter than you’d like as you wave at the group.

“To what do we owe this pleasure, Princess?”

Your mouth opens, and your throat closes. Your face feels suddenly warm under the eyes of his whole table. In an instant, you regret coming over here. What must you look like? What will they think of you, when they realise you came over here to brag about a simple test result?

Eddie hums a questioning sound, bringing your focus back to him. He’s looking at you the way he does when you both know you’re going to have to be the one to speak first. There’s anticipation there, but the little curve of his lips is all kind patience.

You swallow, glance down the table again. You make eye contact with Lucas, give him an awkward smile at his friendly wave. Even at that, you know the words won’t come. Sighing quietly, you unzip your bag and search through your books for the test, drawing out the paper and fiddling with the corner for a second. How do you tell him, all of them, that you really aren’t bragging? That more than anything you just want to thank him?

Eddie’s eyebrows raise as he looks between you and the paper. When he holds his hand out, and you find yourself passing it to him instinctively, toes curling in your shoes.

“An A!?” He screeches immediately, thoroughly dispelling any hope you might have had that he’d keep it to himself. Though your face burns, you fight the urge to glance around and offer an apologetic smile to his group, to the people that turned at the sound of his yell, because this is Eddie. Any embarrassment you might feel pales in comparison to hearing the pride in his voice, to see it on his face. What do judgmental looks and cruel whispers from strangers mean to you when they’re caused by Eddie, so excited and pleased for you that he’ll yell it publicly?

You tuck the top of your foot to the back of your ankle, playing with your skirt, correcting him shyly. “An A minus.”

Eddie scoffs. “An A’s and A, sweetheart. I’d know, I’ve missed enough of them.”

Knowing now that at least Eddie himself has taken it the right way, you let yourself indulge. “I was two marks off a real A.”

Eddie’s hand slams down on the table with a bang, making you and everyone in the surrounding area jump as he rises, kicking his chair back with a screech. You watch, left in some strange place between proud and mortified as he practically floats over to the neighbouring table, flicking the paper at a group of juniors dressed exclusively in neon.

“You see that? My girlfriend got a fucking A in Mr Brown’s AP Chemistry class!” He moves the paper around, displaying it for each of them. “That shit’s like fucking gold dust- hey!” He turns to shake it at a passing boy with a calculator in his breast pocket. “You’re in that class, right? How’d you do in this test, huh?”

“If you must know, Munson, I got an A plus.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Okay, man. Shit. Kinda showing off a little-” He turns to you, eyes wide and head tilted as if to say get a load of this guy, but you’re shaking your head, desperately biting back a smile.

“Eddie!”

“Ah, she calls to me.” He drifts over to you then, frizzed hair flying out behind him. You giggle a little wildly behind your hands, still shaking your head at him though any disapproval is for show at this point. Everyone who turned to watch Eddie crow seems to have returned to their conversations, this side of the room apparently well used to his outbursts. He stops close enough that he’s all you can see; his dimpled smile, eyes shining at you while he hands you your test back.

“Take my seat, Princess.” He gestures with a wide arm, directing you to the chair he rose from. You make a quick glance over at the cheer table, find Caroline just sitting down now with her tray, and feel an unusual sense of relief. It feels like freedom, to be on this side of the room, and not directly under her gaze.

By the time you’re settled in his seat, Eddie has retrieved a spare chair, carrying it above his head and dropping it down next to you with another outrageous bash. He collapses into it, his arm finding the back of your chair as he leans in to Jeff, sitting on your left. “You’re in that class, too, right man?”

“You know, we’ve been friends three years now, Eddie, and you’ve never once taken an interest in my grades,” Jeff answers, shutting down Eddie’s inquiry before he can really ask. He turns to you. “Bet it was question 18 that got you, huh?”

“Mm, no, that was okay.” You answer. “Eddie and I went over retention factors so much at the library last week. I understand it way better now.”

Six pairs of eyes blink at you, and the relief you were experiencing is fading fast. Instead, you get the recognizable sense that you said something wrong. Your foot starts tapping at pace, fingers finding the edge of the table and running over the edge.

“You were at the library?” Gareth asks Eddie, aghast tone mocking but serious in its surprise.

“I’ve been to the library before,” Eddie bites. “M’there all the time.”

“We’re not talking about monopolising the fantasy section, here,” Matthew says. “You were studying, Eds.”

“I told you,” Eddie replies, widening his legs until you feel the denim of his jeans rough against your bobbing calf. “I’m working hard this year. Trying to get out of this shithole.” He presses his leg more firmly to yours, and you realise it’s a deliberate touch, a silent reminder that he’s there, that he’s not going to leave you alone with whatever’s got you fidgeting.

“You said that last year,” Jeff says.

“And the year before that,” chimes Gareth through a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeah, well, I meant it this time,” he says, leaning back in his seat with a deep sigh. “Jesus, Henderson, you look like you’re gonna explode. Go on. So you’ve built your stereo on the roof.”

“Not a stereo, Eddie- a radio!” Dustin cries through a mouthful of cafeteria lasagne.

Eddie’s face darkens. “Do I look like I give a- Christ.” He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head with genuine frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whatever, man. Please, please, just finish your story so we can all move on with our lives.”

Undeterred by Eddie’s rough tone, Dustin launches right back into what he’d been speaking about as you approached. Mainly focused on how he convinced his Mom to let him up on the roof in the first place.

You sigh in quiet relief as the attention of the table moves swiftly away from you, leg slowing until it stops shaking altogether. Eddie’s knee bumps yours, and you feel the warmth of him as he leans in to speak softly, just to you.

“My smart girl,” he says, drawing pleased shivers up your spine. “You deserve it, yeah? You worked real hard.”

“I wanted,” you start, grabbing at his sleeve, thumbing the chain that holds the leather together. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me. I know it was kinda boring.”

“Nah, glad I could help.” Eddie’s expression turns a touch sheepish. “I, uh, actually got a C on that History essay? Mrs Kelly said I would have got a B, if I’d handed it in on time, so…”

Your eyes widen, barely able to process the sight of him now. Eddie Munson, who just yelled across the room about your academic achievements, now looking anywhere but at you, scratching his face and shrugging like his own barely matter. You find his hand, squeeze it tight until he shows you his eyes.

“Eddie, that’s brilliant!” You say. He puffs out air like it means nothing to him, shakes his head. “When-”

“You aren’t even listening, Eddie!” Dustin calls from the end of the table. Eddie rolls his eyes, but then he gestures ;azily for Dustin to continue, now with the gift of his attention. It’s enough for anyone to believe he finds the boy annoying at best, but you know from how Eddie talks about them that Dustin’s kind of his favourite. There’s a clear fondness in Eddie’s tone when he rants about Dustin trying to contribute ideas to his campaigns, the begrudging respect he has for how unapologetically himself the boy is. The touch of jealousy that creeps in when he talks about Dustin’s friendship with Steve Harrington, of all people. Badass, my ass, he mumbles each time.

You listen in comfortable silence to the conversation as it continues, occasionally contributing a little yes or no when Jeff asks you leading questions, your fondness for him ever increasing. Only when you watch Eddie retrieve a bag of pretzels from his backpack do you remember your own lunch, too taken in by the awe in Matthew’s voice recounting the first time he heard a Judas Priest song, apparently life changing.

You frown at the realisation that the half empty bag is all Eddie brought for himself, immediately offering your open tupperware and holding it steady under his shaking head until he acquiesces to tearing one half of your sandwich in two, chewing on the quarter in between his contributions to the conversation.

Your ears prick when you move on to tearing the segments from your satsuma, handing a half to Eddie without a word. Amongst the chatter, Mike laughs about Dustin’s current failing grade in Latin, an unusual outcome for him. Dustin sighs like an old man.

“I ask you, how many tenses does one language need?” He groans. “I thought there’d be something we could use for a campaign, The Exorcist style, you know? Instead I’m trying to remember the difference between types of declensions. Or I will, when I fully grasp what declensions are.”

The conversation about Judas Priest you’d found yourself somewhat involved in fades with how much you’re focused on Dustin’s defeated tone. One part of you is screaming that you could help him, that he seems really worried about it and he’s a smart boy so it probably wouldn’t be much work to get him on the right track. Then another part, the one that screeches and wails its distress until your head hurts, asks, what if he says no? What if he laughs? What if they all do?

You open your mouth, wondering if you should just say it across the table. Just offer; just do it. Of course he won’t say no. And if he does, he’s Eddie’s friend so it will be gentle. Still embarrassing though. Your mouth closes again, teeth digging grooves into the gum behind your lips. Just help him. You pull your sleeves down over your hands, playing with the soft ends. You clear your throat, take a breath-

“I’m good at Latin,” you say, immediately cringing at how that sounds. But you’re pleased when Jeff goes on chatting about the album he just bought, letting you contribute to the other conversation across the table freely. Dustin blinks at you owlishly. “I mean, I can help. Tutor you, or something? If you want.”

“Seriously!?” Dustin asks, flashing you a braced grin when you nod. “That would be amazing! Thanks!”

You smile, just sighing out your relief when you feel another nudge at your knee. Eddie’s watching you, eyebrows raised. You shrug shyly, grasping the sleeve of his jacket again to fiddle with the chains. He pulls free, but only to take hold of your hand instead.

You’re basking in the feeling of knowing Eddie’s proud of you, your own pride in yourself, and you know you couldn’t force yourself back across the room today if you tried.

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You realised, walking alone to class, that you hadn’t spoken that much during lunch the entire time you’d been at highschool. Giggling at Lucas’ jokes, asking about their DnD characters, getting increasingly comfortable talking about metal with a group of people who are genuinely excited to hear about your introduction to the genre. By the end it felt almost natural; simple and fun to talk to an entire table of people.

But you’re feeling some of the effects of it now, even quieter than usual in Eddie’s van as Gareth considers whether to paint or sharpie the Corroded Coffin logo Eddie designed onto the front of his bass drum.

From the soft hum you’d given in greeting as you climbed into the van after school, Eddie had offered you his palm, open and relaxed. Now, your forefinger traces the long groove from his wrist to the base of his thumb that forms his life line. You love Eddie’s hands, love how they feel in yours, and on every other part of you they’ve touched.

You swallow, face suddenly hot. It’s been easier, nicer, every time Eddie’s touched you. So much so that you now understand why it’s all some people think about, all that drives them. The way Eddie feels inside you, all the words that spill from his mouth as he moves; how much he wants you, how good you make him feel. You find your mind circling back to it at the strangest times. In class, making dinner, driving home with Eddie’s friends-

You jump a little at the chorus of bye’s from the back, the sound of the doors being thrown open. Eddie’s already watching you curiously when you look back to him, unable to hold eye contact, half convinced he’ll be able to read your thoughts with one good look at you. “You okay, sweet thing?”

“M’just tired.”

“Right,” Eddie says, nodding thoughtfully. “The guys- they can be a little intense.”

Mirth spreads through you at the thought of Eddie ‘jumps on cafeteria tables’ Munson describing anyone as intense. “I like them.”

“You say that now. A week tutoring Dustin and you’ll be changing your name and moving to Idaho. I’ll never see you again, and it’ll be all that little punk’s fault.”

“He’s your favourite.”

Eddie’s tone goes from playful to offended in a second, as to close a screech as his deep voice can get. “He is not- I don’t even have- Even if I did have a favourite, which I don’t, Dustin Henderson would not even come close-” He pauses at the sound of your laugh, narrowing his eyes. “Mmh. I get it. Tired, but not too tired to rile me up.”

You chew the inside of your lip, fighting a smile. Running a finger along his palm again, you reply, “it’s not particularly difficult.” You expect another dramatic yell of offence, or maybe a laugh. Instead, you get something pleased from his expression, dimples on his cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing. I just like it when you tease me.” His fingers close around yours, weaving together. “S’like you’re more comfortable around me, I guess.”

You’re sure he’s right. Every day it’s a little easier. Every time you see him, your mind gets in the way less and less, slowly coming to accept that he’s not waiting for you to say the wrong thing, that he won’t abandon you when you inevitably do.

“You make me feel comfortable, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raise, waiting for your quick nod. “Does that mean you’re coming back to mine?”

“Actually,” you start, truly needing that comfort now. You know the implications of what you’re going to ask, sure that if somebody other than Eddie heard you, they’d come to conclusions about the kind of girl you are.

The more time you spend with Eddie the less you’re sure that it matters if they would be right or wrong.

You press your knees together, tap your fingers in a wave along Eddie’s knuckles. “Well, my parents aren’t home...”

There’s a second of silence, long enough to have you squirming, finding his dark eyes and then looking away again in a loop.

Eddie leans into you, chin tilted to capture your gaze and keep you there. “You mean to say that the Princess’ tower is unguarded this night?”

Your stomach squeezes at the sound of his voice, serious and soft, like a real adventurer on the verge of committing himself to a great quest. You love this about Eddie, how easily he can slip into characters like this. It’s something he learned from DnD, or maybe Eddie’s so good at the game because he has this ability to play at being somebody different without hesitation, without a hint of the worry you’d feel if you tried it, convinced you’d do it all wrong, sure you’d sound stupid.

“No dragons for me to slay?” He asks, closing one eye like he’s trying to work out if you’re tricking him. Your head shakes, and Eddie turns your hand in his to bring it to his mouth. He kisses your knuckles, a soft warm press. “S'that what you want?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“Okay,” he says, lips meeting your hand once again. “To the castle, it is.”

Eddie is as quick as usual to drive you home, each turn forcing you to lean to the door or to the centre console. But any urgency seems to vanish the second he’s pulled up by your house. In the van, you wait as he makes sure he has his wallet and his keys, sets the sun visor back into position. When you've jumped out, you watch him check that he's locked each door of the van with more care than you've ever seen from him, like he's particularly worried about a carjacker on your suburban street in broad daylight.

Inside, Eddie is careful about unlacing his shoes and placing them at the door next to yours, toed off your heels carelessly. Then, at the top of the stairs, when you think you finally have him at a regular pace towards your room, you are jolted back by his sudden stop on the landing, leaving your hands connected at the end of stretched arms.

“‘M looking for anything I can use as a weapon, you know?” He says, peering into a vase of fake orchids, examining a glass seahorse statue, scrunching his nose when he gets hit with the scent from a bowl of potpourri. “This all feels a little too easy, and you’ve gotta expect the unexpected in situations like these.”

“Eddie?"

You’re so endeared to him, watching him examine the objects your Mom set out playing up to this story he’s created. But the way he’s stalling, almost hesitant, has you sure you missed a clear sign along the way. “Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you, like, not want to come here?”

His head shoots up then, round eyes blinking. “Of course, I did. I do.” Eddie laughs airily, tucking some of his hair behind his ear as he approaches. “I’m a freak, okay? I’m not crazy.”

You still feel like you’re missing something, wondering if you should offer him another way out. Eddie makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, inviting you to guide him forward. Walking slow to give him time to change his mind, you make your way to your door, decidedly not looking back at him when you enter.

Eddie is unusually quiet, then, following you in but stopping once again when he takes the first step onto your cream carpet. You only glance back at him when you’ve dropped his hand and started playing with your sleeves, comforted by the fact he just seems to be taking everything in. He stands out, all ragged denim and black leather in the pastel softness of your bedroom, and yet he fits so well in a room full of things you love.

He shifts his weight back and forth on the soft carpet, subtly sniffs the air that must smell of you and the apple blossom diffuser on your side table. His eyes drift as he takes in each focal point; the desk laden with textbooks and paper, your windowsill, lined with a couple snow globes, a ceramic cat you’d painted as a child, a framed photo of you and your friends Heather gave you for your 16th. He scans quickly over the cork boards to the corner of the room, smile lines appearing at the sight of your long favourite stuffed animal, a soft grey elephant you’d carefully positioned on a pink cord beanbag, looking ready to start reading judging by the pile of books to her right.

His gaze eventually circles back to you, waiting nervously for his reaction. Eddie shifts back and forth on his feet. “You know, I, uh, gotta admit, I imagined some stained glass.” He gestures lazily to the window, then to your bed, the wooden frame and the blue floral bedspread. “And I was sure you’d have one of those beds with all the fabric, you know what I’m talking about?” He raises both hands to motion the shape of a canopy bed, fingers wiggling.

“Disappointed?” You say, only half joking.

Eddie finally takes a step further in, turning to the shelves of books by your bed. “Me? Nah I was worried about getting tangled up in it, to be honest.” He flashes you a quick grin before scanning over the spines. Eventually, he points to one. “Iron Maiden, yeah?”

You check the book he’s pointing to, The Complete Poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and nod, always pleased by the reminder that Eddie listens, really listens, when you speak. That he remembers so many innocuous things you share with him, things you’d never expect him to remember.

You badly want to reach out for him then, fingers itching to hold his hand, play with his sleeves. You almost do, raising your arm a touch, but a wave of concern hits you, still trying to work out if you’ve done something, said something wrong to make him act like he’d rather not be here.

Eddie catches your stunted movement, eyes blinking at your fidgeting hands before shifting to your face. You’re sure then that your anxiety is clear in your expression, that he sees how eagerly you’re waiting for him to give you an explanation for his hesitancy in the hallway.

Eddie frowns, looking at the books again. He clears his throat. "I've never been in a girls' room before," he tells you. From his voice, it sounds like a confession.

“Oh.” Your brows furrow, trying to work out how that matters. “I mean, they’re not all like this.”

"No, I mean, it’s just that it’s like, a first. For me.” When that doesn’t quite cover your confusion, he continues. “Nobody ever wanted, y'know, me in their room. Or whatever."

Your heart pangs with sudden understanding, the memory of Eddie lying across from you on a blanket, the warm sun on your skin. Am I being too intense? That's what Eddie had asked you, that day at the lake. People say I can be too much too soon.

“And it’s already different, with you. Better. I mean, shit, a million times better,” he says, eyes wide. “But I still just didn’t expect you to, just, ask me, like- Like, you just want me here. Cause it’s never been that simple. Shit. I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

“No. No, Eddie,”

“I didn’t wanna make you worried or anything. It’s the complete last thing I’d ever want. I guess I was kinda just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He laughs again, but it’s hollow, and cuts off too suddenly to be real.

You give in entirely, practically launching at him to wrap your arms around his torso and pull him into a tight, desperate hug. You wish, not for the first time, that you were more like him, better at getting your thoughts into words and saying them.Then you could soothe him like he deserves. Then you could tell him the truth.

Eddie’s face presses to your hair, arms tight around your shoulders.

“Eddie,” you murmur into his shoulder, squeezing him again before you build the courage to look him in the eyes. “You’re so-” Your throat tightens, forcing you to whisper. “You’re so good.” It seems lacklustre, probably a million better words to describe all that Eddie is, but it feels right; it’s what you think, that Eddie is, deep at his core, so good that it hurts. “You’re too good, too good for anyone that made you think-” Your voice cracks, and Eddie blinks shining eyes at you when you reach up to stroke his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, pressing his face to your palm. “I’m okay. Really.”

You press your lips to his, hoping he understands this at least. You feel his smile, and believe that he does. He hums as you shift your kisses to the corner of his mouth, his cheeks. You peck the end of his nose, watch it scrunch sweetly. You’re warmed by the sight of his reddening face, the sound of his laugh. “You know how to make a guy feel appreciated, sweetheart.”

Your hands seem incapable of moving from him, only moving from his cheek to his shoulders, wrists tickled by the fluffy ends of his curls. “I want you here,” you say, a little strained. “I promise.”

“I know. I know you do.”

“I would have invited you earlier,” you continue. “It’s just…”

Eddie’s eyes flash. His hands, big and warm, rub up and down your back, pulling you closer to him until you’re flush against his chest. “It’s just, we couldn’t have done what you want to do,” he finishes. “Not with your parents downstairs. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Your stomach twists with that exciting shame, face hot. You don’t have anywhere to hide, caught by Eddie’s gaze. You still can’t look into his eyes for too long, lest your heart beat out your chest, so you find yourself staring at his lips, pillowy and pink. “Not just that.”

“Okay,” he answers, hand drifting down to skim the end of your skirt. You press closer to him when his fingers tease the soft skin of your thighs, and he breathes a laugh. “But, mainly that, huh?”

Your fingers curl into his shoulders, embarrassed and excited in equal measure that he’s naming your intentions so clearly. You bounce a little on your toes, still gazing at Eddie’s lips, the dents of his laugh lines and his dimples.

Callused fingers reaching under your skirt, his thumb grazing the cotton of your panties, pulling at the elastic. You think you’re being subtle, the way you open your legs a little to make space for him, but know immediately that you failed when Eddie laughs, eyes crinkled at the sides. He breathes a sigh, watching you lose the last pretence that you aren’t a little desperate for him to touch you how he wants. “My good girl.”

Oh, but that makes you ache for him. Your head drops to his neck, hiding your face in his skin. You breathe him in, smoke and Eddie, swallowing a whimper.

“You like that, don't you? Like being a good girl.”

You nod on impulse, willing to agree to just about anything when his fingers drag over your mound, press to the split of your pussy through your panties, the material just grazing your clit. But something about what he's said isn't quite right, and you start shaking your head instead.

Eddie's mouth finds your ear, warm breath teasing the sensitive skin at the top of your neck. "No? Not a good girl?"

You shake your head again, because that's not right either. You tilt your face to catch his gaze, ink dark eyes already waiting for you. "I like-" You sigh when his fingers catch at the fabric that sits at the top of your sex again, giving a single teasing circle that helps you relax enough to tell him the truth of it. “It’s for you, Eddie.”

"Ah," Eddie breathes, finally, finally dipping his fingers past the elastic of your panties. He hums his approval when he finds your clit, swollen and waiting for him. He gives you one tap just to see you pout, then he’s rubbing tight circles that have you trying to press even closer to him, nails digging into his shoulders. “My good girl, mm?"

"Yeah," you nod desperately, proud to see how pleased he looks with you. "Yes, Eddie."

"That's right." He continues, watching your face as your lips open to moan softly, eyelids flickering. His fingers dip quickly to your entrance, dragging slick up to ease the way for his fingers on your button. “Just for me. Cause I'm the one who gets to touch you," he says. "Only I get to hear you like this, yeah? Hear you begging me with that pretty voice?"

"Only you. Please, Eddie."

“S’cause you know I’m gonna take care of you, don’t you, sweet thing? You and this pretty pussy?”

Eddie's fingers keep rubbing at your clit, pulling sensations from your body that only he ever has. Staring at him, hearing his rough voice even as he looks at you like you’re precious, you feel it again, as you have with increasing frequency. How badly you want him like this and every other way. It almost overwhelms you, makes you want to hide away again in his shoulder. But Eddie is owed the sight of the pleasure he brings you, deserves to see it play out on your face, hear every whimper clearly. Eddie coos softly at the sight of you, his free hand coming to support the back of your neck, nodding you through each shaking breath. “That’s it. That’s it. You gonna cum?”

A tremble moves through your body, hips rolling against his hand as you groan into the air. The high builds to a long, half painful peak, your hands grasping at Eddie’s t-shirt, his hair, first for something to hold on to, then because the resulting groan has your cunt clenching around nothing. It crosses over into too much suddenly, twitching away from his hand between your legs even as you give in and throw your face to his neck, kissing your gratitude all over the pale column of his throat. You find his pulse, feel its steady beat under your lips, and bite. It’s little more than a scrape of your teeth, but Eddie shudders in your arms, tilting his head back to let you soothe the bruised skin with your tongue, then kisses.

You sigh deep, relaxing your death grip on his body while Eddie kisses at your sweaty temple. You peek at him then, find the warm brown of his irises swallowed up by darkness, his tongue licking quick over his bitten dark lips. He pulls his hand from your panties, showing you the remnants of your slick on his fingers before licking at his ring finger. “Always taste so good, baby. Wanna try?”

“Uh huh,” you say, head fuzzy with pleasure. Your mouth drops open for him, letting him press his middle finger to your tongue. You close your lips around it, sucking gently. You don’t think it tastes of much at all, but Eddie seems suddenly desperate to get at what he’s given you. He drags his finger from your mouth and captures your lips before you’ve even registered the loss, his tongue licking at yours like he can steal the taste of you back. “That what you were thinking of when you invited me up here, mm?” He says when he breaks away, lips still grazing yours as he speaks. “Or do you want more?”

You do want more. You want Eddie. Want him filling you with the length you can feel, hardening against your thigh. You want to make him feel good, want to hear him groan when he cums. “More, Eddie,” you whisper without shame. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, leaning in for another desperate kiss, taking advantage of your pliant state to open your mouth to him. “Fuck. I wanna bend you over so bad,” he admits, watching your face for your reaction. “You want that? Want me to fuck you like that in your pretty princess bed?”

Your toes curl, clit throbbing at the playful tone of Eddie’s voice, teasing and rough. “Mm. Okay.”

Eddie tilts his head, meeting your eyes, checking in. “Okay?”

You try to picture it, imagine how Eddie will feel fucking you that way. In truth, you’re stuck on how vulnerable you’ll be; exposed, not able to see him or cling to him the way you like. But it’s Eddie, you assure yourself. You take a breath. “I want that, Eddie.”

The kiss that follows is sweet. It’s a comforting reminder that no matter how much Eddie teases you, how rough he gets, he's still the boy who calls you princess, holds your hand in the car, promises to take care of you.

He helps you remove your shirt from your heated skin, pulls his own over his head the second you start tugging at the hem. Once you have access to his skin, you can't stop touching him, palms flat to his chest, kissing his neck while he pulls your panties down over your hips.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he murmurs, turning you to face your bed. He kisses your shoulder, his body warm at your back. "Climb up for me, mm?"

You want to do what he says. You want him to touch you like this. But you still feel a prickle of nerves as you crawl up to your pillow, body exposed and missing Eddie’s skin already.

“So pretty,” Eddie says above you, behind you, as you rest your chin on your curled arms on top of the mattress. You hear the clink of his belt, toes curling at the sound. Then you feel him through his boxers, hard and hot as he rolls his hips against your ass. You hear him whisper, shit, say something about protection. It's followed by a far off, satisfied a-ha at locating a condom in his discarded jacket, but it’s fuzzy beneath the sudden rushing in your ears.

You feel him again, grinding against you, and you're not sure where all the excitement went. You’re staring at the blue cornflowers on your pillowcase while he continues behind you, remembering the last time you were positioned like this, tense and vulnerable. You try to breathe slow. When that doesn’t work, you try to let the heavy throb between your legs remind you how badly you want this.

It doesn't work, and you focus instead on feeling of just having to lie like this, get through it for him, just stare at the flowers and don't cry and he’ll be finished soon-

The pressure behind you disappears, the mattress shifts under you. Eddie bounces when he flops down beside you, face level with yours and hidden behind his flying hair. He makes soft puh noises like he’s trying to spit it out, blowing it away from his face. You blink, the white noise in your ears fading when you touch him, tucking his hair back behind his ear to find his grateful smile.

“Thanks, baby,” he says. He reaches for your hip, rubbing soft as he presses your arched body down until you're lying, flat to the bed. Then, all heartbreaking gentleness; “where’d you go?”

You stumble, embarrassed. “I, I didn’t-”

“Stopped making those pretty noises for me," he reasons. “Isn't any fun without 'em." Your bottom lip shakes, and you feel like an idiot.

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Not Andy, not some boy here for himself, only to take and never give.

"Hey," he says, shuffling in until he can bump your nose with his. "We don’t have to do it like this if you don’t want. You know that, right? Don't have to do anything you don't want.”

“It’s not that, I-” You sigh, watch Eddie’s shining eyes, round and soft, waiting for you. “I needed to know it was you. I’m sorry.”

Recognition registers in his face. He frowns, cupping your face in his palm. “No apologies. Not about what you need, okay?”

“Okay, Eddie.”

“Wanna cuddle?”

You do. Desperately. You reach out for him easily, shuffling until you're surrounded by him, clinging to his torso, cheek to his chest.

"Ah," Eddie breathes, wiggling like he can get his skin any closer to yours. "That's the good stuff."

You hadn’t realised how fast, how hard your heart was beating until you’re settled in Eddie’s arms and it starts to slow. There's a minute’s comfortable silence, letting his presence ease you back to comfort. Then he hums, strokes at the hair on your temple. "You gotta tell me when something's not right, ‘kay?" he says seriously. "I like to think I can read you pretty well, but I could've missed it."

"I'm sorry," you say, then, remembering you just agreed not to do that, "sorry."

Eddie breathes a laugh through his nose, leaves a wet kiss on your forehead. "My shy girl, mm?"

"Sometimes it's just…hard to say what I'm feeling. I didn't want you to stop.” You hum. “I don't think I did."

Eddie considers that, still stroking at your hair. "Do you, uh, know what a safe word is?” You shake your head, and he continues. “S’kinda like a code. Something you can just say if you wanna press pause, you know? Means that instead of getting in that head of yours, trying to work out what you want, you can just say a word and we’ll talk about it, yeah?”

You consider it, imagining the scene if you'd been able to just say one thing and slow down. Easier not to have to think through what you need before you tell him, just say one word and let Eddie help you get there, coax from your head what you haven't worked out yourself. "That sounds good, Eddie."

"Yeah?" He asks, eyebrows raising. “Okay. We can keep it simple for now. If we wanna stop completely, for any reason, we say red, yeah? If we need to slow down, talk a little about what we need, we say yellow. And green for keep going. How’s that sound?"

"Good," you say, feeling grateful that you’re learning all these things with Eddie. "It sounds good, but I- I am sorry that I'm, y'know. Difficult, sometimes."

Eddie blinks, eyebrows pulling together. "Difficult? My sweet girl? Nah. Besides," he leans in, closing one eye. "I like looking after you."

You sigh happily when he kisses you, gentle and seeking nothing more than sweet presses. But you're still wet and wanting, hand rubbing across the softness of Eddie's tummy until your fingers draw across the sparse hair at the top of his pants. Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat that has you pressing your thighs together.

"You wanna turn over, mm? Open those pretty legs for me?”

Yes. You love having Eddie on top of you and inside you. Better every time, as your body gets used to him, as Eddie learns how to draw pleasure from you, as you learn what makes Eddie gasp, makes his hips move desperately like you're the only thing he needs.

But you pause. Now, comfortable in the knowledge that you know how to slow down, stop when you need to, you let yourself imagine Eddie behind you. His hips hitting the back of your thighs, his big hands holding your waist, arching your body just right to slide inside. Letting yourself be vulnerable with Eddie, the feeling of offering yourself up to him, the reward of his touch.

“I want to try, I just, I need-” You don’t know, exactly. You feel another wave of irritation at yourself, wishing you could be a little more simple. That you didn't need to cling to him that first time, that now you need him to work out this hurdle.

Eddie hums, and the mattress shifts again as he sits up behind you. “Lift these hips for me again, sweet thing?” He asks, helping you shift your knees forward, tilting your body up for him. You hear the crinkle of him tearing open a condom, his soft sigh as he rolls it down over his cock. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs, hands smoothing your skirt up, exposing your hot flesh to the air. You shiver up your spine, but when Eddie grinds against you, what follows is his torso stretched along your back until you can feel him pressing wet kisses to your shoulder. The tension falls away, replaced by the tickle of Eddie’s hair at your neck, his sweet sting of his teeth nipping your shoulder, the sound of his pleased hums.

A final touch, his left hand grabs yours on the mattress, linking your fingers up and resting them in your eyeline. You know Eddie’s hands better than you know your own. Thick fingers adorned with a pig, a cross, a skull; all pale skin but for the subtle pink at his knuckles and around his nails. The veins that run from the end of his fingers to his wrist, the dip at the end of his thumb.

“Better?” Eddie asks. You hum happily. You’re so blissfully wrapped up in him like this, surrounded and safe. Eddie’s right hand teases your clit again, presses gently at your entrance and finds you still went and wanting, bearing down at the first dip of his digits inside you. “Fuck, don’t worry, sweet thing. Gonna give you what you need, mm?”

“Eddie,” you say, his name a gentle plea.

“I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his. He reaches between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance, the head of his cock tapping torturously at your clit. You have half a mind to kick your legs out in impatience now, settle on whining at the back of your throat. Eddie breathes a laugh into your shoulder, but it shifts immediately to a groan as he presses inside.

You’re still not entirely used to the feeling of him slowly filling you, the edge of pain still leading you to bear down on him, body stuck between desperations; to force him out or or pull him deeper. But then there’s the perfect ache of feeling full, the warmth and heaviness of him inside.

Eddie’s hips roll, the wet sound of him pulling from you making your toes curl. He starts up a steady pace, easing your body into letting him slide deeper into your cunt with each thrust. His fingers return to the top of your sex, rubbing at your sensitive button. With every slow thrust, each stroke of your twitching clit, it feels like your body is opening up to him, easing the way for him to press deeper, push inside a little rougher. Your body flinches, tightens and loosens up all over when the end of his cock finds the back of your pussy, sending waves of pleasure up your spine.

“Feel good?” He says, amusement in his tone. You moan freely, happy to be teased by him as long as he keeps touching you. “Tell me.”

“Feels good,” you parrot, staring at Eddie’s hand in yours, the slow movement of rose tone up his wrist, along to his knuckles as he heats up. You shiver to let in his warmth, his breath on your shoulder, his chest at your back. His cock, hot and thick, fucking you open.

“My good girl,” he murmurs, groaning at the way your cunt clamps down, gushing wet around his thick cock in thanks for his praise. “Christ. I shoulda known that was your favourite,” he breathes, his right hand pressing at your mound to angle your hips just so, helping his cock find the spot at the end of you that makes your thighs shake with every heavy push. “S’mine too.”

His lips travel up the side of your neck to the top of your cheek, eyes finding yours when you turn to him. Eddie gives you a gentle pout at the sight of your mouth open to take gasping, whimpering breaths, your eyes fluttering when he starts to bully your clit in line with the increasingly harsh movements inside you. “You were fucking made for me,” he tells you. “You know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You cry out, arms giving way underneath you when your body twitches all over, squeezing tight around Eddie’s invading cock. Your head drops into the mattress next to your joined hands, but you nod desperately, wanting him to see that you know perfectly well. That nobody could make you feel as good as Eddie does.

Eddie keeps your body angled how he wants, adjusting your hips to pull your back into an arch. “All mine, aren’t you? Mine to look after, mine to touch. Mine to fuck-” He gives you a harsh thrust that makes your thighs twitch, legs close to giving out if he wasn’t holding you up with his arm under your stomach. “I wanna feel you cum, yeah? Think you can?”

You’re still nodding, hand gripping his tight, fingers curled through his.

“For me? Just for me?”

Always. Only for Eddie. You can’t say it, mind too far away to form the thought properly, but the feeling of him saying it like that, claiming your pleasure for himself as he drags it out of you with his cock, heavy and hot, and his hand playing with your clit, drives you over the edge. You mewl into the mattress, cunt clenching tight around his throbbing cock as your pleasure peaks.

Eddie makes a soft whimpering sound as you cum, following you down to bury his face in your shoulder. His hips move faster as he starts chasing his pleasure instead of focusing on yours, hand that was teasing your clit now stroking at your hip to soothe your sensitive, twitchy body.

Hearing him now, gasping breaths, whimpers in your ear, you sink happily into this feeling. Almost as good as reaching your own peak, the knowledge that you’re making Eddie feel good. That this boy who treats you so well, dedicates himself to helping you find your pleasure, loses himself a little at the clench of your cunt around him.

You drag your clasped hands to your mouth, kissing at the pink skin of his knuckles. How could anybody not want this with him? How could anybody have given him up? You feel a sudden, desperate possession of him, the need to claim him like he claimed you.

“Mine,” you murmur, pressing your lips to the back of his hand in an array of gentle kisses. Your other hand reaches back to tangle in his hair, scratch at the back of his head as he whimpers. You crane your neck, searching for his eyes. They’re dark, shining as they take you in. His cock twitches inside you, and you squeeze his hand again. “Mine?”

His bottom lip shakes. “Yeah. M'yours. Yours, fuck-” He captures your lips but the kiss ends quick when he groans, hips stuttering in your warmth then sinking deep. You keep scratching at his neck as his body shakes through his orgasm, and still after when his weight drops on you and you fall flat to the bed together. You lie there for minutes, catching your breath, luxuriating in the feeling of being held by Eddie, pussy still clenching weakly around him.

Eddie hums, pulling from you slowly with another wet sound that makes you bury your face in your pillow. He rubs at your hip gently, squeezes your hand a final time before untangling from you to deal with the condom. You make a mental note to do something with that before tomorrow morning, but Eddie has your mind going wonderfully blank again when he bounces back beside you and pulls you in. You’re both a little sweaty, cheek a touch too hot against his chest, but you have no interest in cooling down if it means you have to stop touching him.

“Good?” He asks, fingers rubbing at your temple. You hum a long content sound in answer, not ready to form any coherent thought yet, and feel Eddie’s chest shake with laughter under your cheek. “Good.”

You lay like that, clammy and pleasured, convinced nothing could drag you from this bed. Until you feel a quick pang in your stomach, and the quiet reverie is interrupted by a deep rumble. There’s a moment of silence, then Eddie snorts underneath you. You’d be embarrassed if his laugh didn’t make you want to follow his happiness, smiling shyly when he rubs gently at your tummy. “Hungry work, huh?” He asks, giggling. “Never fear, sweet thing. I can fix that.” He pauses then, licks his lips quickly. “Hey, you got a box of mac and cheese sitting around here, somewhere?”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You flinch, watching with increasing horror as Eddie’s attempts to chop the onion you’d handed him. Fingers splayed and terrifyingly close the blade, you’re stuck between gently taking the knife from him and asking point blank how he’s managed to keep all ten fingers intact this long.

“Do you want me to finish that?” You ask, frowning when he shakes his head, still fully concentrated on each dangerous movement, his tongue just poking out of his lips in a physical demonstration of his focus.

If you weren’t so terrified, you’d be appreciating how soft and comfy Eddie looks right now. Black Sabbath t-shirt tucked into his jeans, socked feet ready to slide along your kitchen floor. His dark curls pulled back from his face and braided by your own hands, tied at the end with your favourite lilac scrunchie that you kind of hope he’ll keep.

But you can’t think about it, because you’re terrified Eddie’s going to ruin his musical career here in your kitchen, making pasta.

“No, need, sweet thing,” he assures. “This is a patented Munson technique for chopping onions.”

You could curse yourself for not having any boxed mac and cheese, for suggesting you cook something from scratch together in the first place. You’re used to cooking, with your Mom and Dad, with your friends, and eventually for yourself. But you get the sense that Eddie does a lot of microwaving, looking after himself the same way he has since he was a kid, at dinner time when Wayne is working nights.

“Eddie, can I?” You gently take the knife from him, turning the half of the onion left and chopping it with your thumb tucked in.

He tilts his chin. “Lacks the adrenaline rush that comes with the Munson method,” he says when you’re done, watching you tip the contents of the chopping board into the heated pan on the stove. Then, a little sheepishly, “I, uh, I don’t cook much. If that wasn’t obvious.”

“You don’t like it, or?”

“I like this,” he answers. “And I make breakfast sometimes with Wayne. But not dinner, so much. He’s usually at the plant that time of day, so nobody ever taught me, I guess.” He pauses. “That’s not true. My mom and I used to cook, I think. Sometimes.”

You wait for a couple of seconds, watching the onions and garlic soften. “When you were a kid?”

“Yeah, we’d make stuff like this. Or, she would. I think I’d just watch mostly. Stir stuff, lick the spoon.”

“Best part,” you say, smiling. Then, watching him carefully. “Your Mom, she…?”

“She died,” he finishes with a shrug. He taps at the counter with his knuckles. “Then I lived with my old man, and he was not one for cooking lessons,” he laughs derisively. “Then one day the bastard dropped me off at Wayne’s. Best thing he ever did for me. Not that he cared either way, he was just sick of having me around.” Eddie finally looks at you then, and catches something in your expression that makes him wince, the laughter that follows clearly forced. “Christ, sorry. I’m really dumping on you today.”

“Don’t apologise, Eddie.”

“Nah, I shouldn’t have-” He shakes his head, tapping the counter again before resting his palms at the edge. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Eddie, of course it matters,” you say, turning off the stove to approach him, standing separated from his body by his arm reaching to the counter, keeping you from wrapping around him the way you want to. “Of course it matters.”

Eddie shrugs again, and it’s another one of those moments where you wish you were more like him. Eddie always knows what to say, senses where you’re hurt and how to soothe it, knows when to talk and when to just hold you.

But now that it’s your turn, you’re left feeling useless, stuck just wanting to cry at the thought that anyone has ever hurt him, made him feel like he has something to apologise for just for being around.

“I think you’re so wonderful, Eddie,” you say. “I want you around all the time.”

There’s a second of something. He turns to meet your gaze, searching your face with a frown. Then he gives you a small, barely there smile. The arm between you raises to let you close, wrap him up in a tight hug. You feel his body lose tension as he sighs, your hand stroking his back the way you know he likes. “I want you around all the time, too, sweet thing,” he says softly. “I really do.”

Next Chapter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x shy!reader

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years ago

Text

quédate un segundo más (1/8)

@911lonestarangstweek day 8 - t is for...tumour, terminal, treatment

title from voy a quedarme by blas cantó, translates roughly to 'stay a second more'

thanks to @halsteadmarchs and @tarlos-spain for the beta!

as shown above, this will be eight chapters if all goes to plan, and i hope to finish it before season 3 begins. much of what is written both in this chapter and in future ones is ripped directly from life and i am only writing from my own perspective and experiences of losing a loved one to cancer.

ao3 | 1.6k | angst, hurt tk, cancer, terminal illness, more warnings to come in future chapters

A rare genetic mutation.

That’s what the doctors tell him when the results come back.

A rare genetic mutation that has rendered his cancer practically undetectable until its latest stages, until all that’s left to do is wait to die.

TK’s hands shake as various leaflets on Managing Your Diagnosis and What To Expect and Looking After Someone With Cancer are placed in them. He feels two steps to the side of himself, his entire world halting in its tracks the moment those words had left the doctor’s lips.

“I’m afraid it’s not good news,” he’d said, eyes wide and empathetic. “Your scans and blood results have come back showing evidence of a tumour on your pancreas. There are treatment options which we can and will—with your consent—pursue, however I have to inform you that your cancer is entering stage IV. It has begun to spread to your bladder and liver. I’m sorry to say that, at this point, treatment is more focused on managing your pain and making you as comfortable as possible; we do not anticipate recovery.”

It’s just… TK’s fine. He feels fine. Like, sure, he’s been a little more tired recently and he’s been getting these weird pains, but they always fade after a while, and he’s fine.

But he couldn’t deny the blood spotting his pee, the last straw which had finally sent him to the doctor’s office.

Too late, apparently.

A touch on his knee brings him back to reality with a start. TK looks up to meet the doctor’s kind gaze, and he wants to cry.

“I understand this is a lot to take in,” he’s saying. “If you have any questions, please ask.”

“I…” TK shakes his head, swallowing a couple of times before dropping his eyes to his knees, the words on the pamphlets blurred through his tears. “How long?”

The doctor hesitates a moment, then sighs regretfully. “I can’t say for certain. People frequently outlive their projected timeframes; equally, it could be less. However, given the way your tumour looks and the rate it appears to be spreading at, I would estimate around six months.”

Six months.

Six—six months.

“Oh,” TK says, and it feels wildly insufficient but it’s all he has. What even is there to say? He’s dying, and that’s...that’s that.

“Do you have a support system in place?” the doctor asks. “This is going to be a difficult process, and you are going to need other people to help you through it.”

TK nods slowly, not looking up. “M-My husband. Carlos. He was supposed to come with me today but he was called into work last minute. He’s a detective, so he couldn’t exactly refuse—not that that stopped him from trying.” He laughs wetly, remembering how he’d insisted that everything would be fine when Carlos had stalled leaving this morning. “And there’s my dad, and my team—my family. I’m a paramedic and I work in a fire station, so we’re all pretty close. I… Shit, I’m sorry. You don’t need to know all this.”

“It’s okay.” The doctor is still smiling, still so understanding, and TK wonders—just how many times has he had to do this? “I’m glad to hear you have solid support behind you; that’s going to be incredibly important for the coming months. I’ve also given you a few leaflets about support groups you can access, that your family can access, and, of course, your treatment team will be there every step of the way.

“Now,” he continues, returning to a semi-professional aspect, “I want to see you later this week to iron out how we’re going to proceed. For now, why don’t you go home and rest, allow yourself to process this? Does Friday at 10.30 work for your next appointment?”

TK nods absently, clutching the pamphlets tight enough to crease them. “That’s fine,” he whispers.

“Okay,” the doctor says, just as quiet. “Are you going to be okay to get home?”

“Yeah.”

But he doesn’t move. He can’t. In this room, he’s separated from the rest of the world—TK doesn’t want to go back into it, where he’ll have to tell everyone he loves that he’s… That he…

“TK.”

TK’s head snaps up at the doctor’s voice and he flushes a little at seeing his pointed look. “Sorry,” he mutters, scrambling to stand up.

The doctor stands too, much more gracefully than TK, and gets the door for him. “It’s okay. I’ll see you on Friday, TK, alright?”

He mumbles an affirmative then steps out of the office, taken aback for a moment by the bustle and noise in the corridor. It’s strange to witness it now, to see all these people who don’t know him from Adam going about their lives, while his has, in the span of thirty minutes, completely crumbled.

TK takes a deep breath (and how many of those does he have left?) and joins the flow.

He’s home.

That’s… He doesn’t remember it. He must have unlocked the front door because the keys are in his hand and he’s standing in the entryway, but TK has no idea how he managed to get from the doctor’s office to here.

He made good time though, judging by the clock on the wall.

Small victories.

With heavy steps, TK walks to the sofa, easing himself down and tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. It still doesn’t feel real that there's this—this thing inside him, growing and mutating and killing him. He’s not sure when it finally will.

Maybe in a few months, when his skin is sagging off his bones and his hair is gone and even the very act of breathing is a challenge.

Or maybe in a few hours, when Carlos comes home and TK has to break the news. TK can picture his face now, the way his ever-present smile will crack and break, the shock and hurt and grief that will take its place.

He thinks he understands his dad now.

TK closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind, just for a moment, of everything that’s happened today.

Which, as it turns out, is a mistake, because that’s when he remembers the letter that came for them yesterday and the phone call they’re going to make after dinner.

The phone call they were going to make after dinner.

TK wants to scream at the unfairness of it all. They’ve been waiting for that moment for so long, the moment in which they found out they were finally cleared to adopt a kid. And now…

Gone.

Carlos is going to be crushed.

As if the universe is reacting to that last thought, the door suddenly swings open, marking Carlos’s return from his impromptu shift. For a moment, TK panics. He’s not ready, dammit, he needs more time to plan and to figure it all out, how he feels and what he’s going to say, but—

But, in the end, it doesn’t matter. He could have had the most detailed and well-thought out plan in the world and it wouldn’t have mattered.

Because all it takes is one look at Carlos’s smile for TK to fall apart.

Carlos is by his side in an instant, gathering him in his arms and sliding to the floor with him when TK can no longer support himself on the couch. TK fists his hands in his husband’s shirt and cries into his neck, all the emotion that’s been slowly building all day exploding from him all at once.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Carlos shushes, which only makes TK cry harder, because how is he supposed to tell him that it’s not?

He shakes his head and clings onto him tighter, feeling Carlos do the same to him in return. TK’s always felt safe in his arms and it’s no different now; he thinks that, if he can just stay here forever, maybe things will turn out okay after all.

But the moment ends, as they tend to do. When TK’s sobs have run dry, Carlos carefully pulls back from him, his hands rising to cup his face and wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, so much worry in those damn eyes that it hurts. “Is it… Did the doctor say something? Are you okay?”

TK opens his mouth, but the words refuse to come out. All he manages is a wordless shake of the head, and even that turns Carlos’s expression into the picture of devastation. He can’t bear to look at it, so he wraps his arms around Carlos’s waist and leans into him again, resting his head on his chest.

Carlos holds him and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll get through it,” he promises. “Whatever it takes.”

And it turns out that he does have a few more tears left in him; TK squeezes his eyes shut and breathes out shakily as a couple of lone drops fall down his cheeks. “We can’t,” he whispers hoarsely. Carlos stiffens and shifts as if to look TK in the eyes, but TK doesn’t let him. If he has to look at Carlos, he doesn’t think he’ll have the courage to say it. He hesitates a moment longer, a huge lump forming in his throat, but eventually he manages it.

“It’s cancer,” he chokes out. “Stage IV. Incurable. They think… I’ve got six months.”

It’s like time stops.

They’re both motionless on the floor of their front room, neither saying anything, barely breathing as the weight of it settles between them.

TK doesn’t know how long it lasts for, but suddenly Carlos sobs and grips onto him with a bruising strength. Carlos’s body heaves and shakes with the force of his cries, and it’s TK’s turn to hold him as tears drip down Carlos’s cheeks into his hair.

And, in that moment, it becomes real.

33 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Crown For Two {1}

Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton AU

Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes,

Words: 6.1k

Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.

Her slogan; “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”

Her next stop on her four destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.

This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. Rather than letting the hours tick by in her room, she explores and meets the friendly locals. While taking photographs, one local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. They strike up conversation during their time drinking at one of the local bars, Ickles. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.

As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.

Note: All right, all right people, the ride begins. I really, really hope you enjoy this. As a note, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

***Picture Heavy***

Chapter One

“You were supposed to be on your way home.”

You rolled your eyes as you scoffed. You’d mentioned nights ago that you thought you should just go home, but then you went to your next destination. It was a moment of weakness or it could have been loneliness. Your schedule took a lot out of you. No one saw it because it was all behind the scenes. All anyone ever saw were the incredible places you went to, the fun things you experienced, and the culture you soaked up. What they grasped was whatever you posted in your pictures.

“You know I can’t. I started this series, and it’s gotten the eye of a lot of sponsors, and one of them is even talking about some really big ideas at the end of it if it goes really well. that could be incredible for my brand,” you explained.

Anika sighed loudly. You knew she was annoyed with you right now, especially it being December.

“I know you’re disappointed. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Whatever.”

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. It looks like we’re headed right into a storm. We’ll be experiencing a little turbulence as we veer off course a little bit as we try to evade this thing. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”

You sighed while buckling your seatbelt, preparing for what was coming.

“What’s happening?”

“Going through some turbulence. It should be fine,” you assured your sister.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to hang up.”

You nodded to the flight attendant and promptly ended the call promising your sister that you’d call her back when you landed in Sandvell. As soon as you hung up, the turbulence began. It started out with slight bumps, that you could sip your drink through. Then graduated to bigger bumps that had you gripping the elbow rests. When the entire plane started to shake, your heart leaped into your throat. One minute passed, then two, and after five minutes or so, the speaker came back on.

“Ladies and gentleman, your captain again. We’re going to be landing shortly. This storm is not one to be messed with. I apologize for the inconvenience, folks, but on this airline, we choose safety above all else.”

You weren’t going to argue with him. You definitely didn’t want to risk your life over getting to your next destination. What was a one or two day delay? Once the pilot got to a lower altitude, the majority of the turbulence subsided. It was another ten minutes before the plane landed, but when it did, all you could see from the window was white overcast with darkness.

When you had your belongings gathered and began walking off the plane along with the other fifty or so passengers, you tried to find cell service, but you had zero bars.

“Excuse me, where are we?”

“Uh—I’m actually not sure, ma’am. Patricia, where are we?”

The two flight attendants looked puzzled. The second asked a third, and that third asked another. None of them seemed to know. That was not a good sign, you thought. Once you’d walked down the long corridor that served as the connection between the airport and the plane, you found yourself in one of the classiest airports you’d ever been in, and you’d been inside quite a few as a travel blogger. As far as the eye could see, it was class, with the exception of the floor.

You looked around you and marveled at the detail in the design that was around you. Where most airports were mainly logically designed without lavishness. This one looked like lavishness was the first priority. The floors looked to be made from the finest paonazzetto marble. You remembered the name because of the substantial time you’d spent in Italy trying to capture architecture through your camera lens. Reaching for your camera around your neck, you began snapping a few frames of the floor. Getting lost in picture taking, you found yourself at one of the many glass windows snapping pictures of the airplanes on the tarmac.

Hearing the commotion of raised voices behind you, you looked back and saw the passengers of the plane you’d just disembarked from gathered in a huddle. You walked back toward them in time to catch a question from a concerned passenger.

“How long are we delayed? When will we get back in the air? I have to get to Sandvell.”

A man wearing a mixture of royal blue and white colors cleared his throat then spoke. “I apologize, ladies and gentlemen, for the delay. There is a storm heading right for us on the path to Sandvell. Continuing through it would be lunacy. Our only viable option is to wait it out.”

No one seemed to like that answer. All the questions flew out at once. All their voices overlapped, and you could tell that the gentleman was overwhelmed by not only the volume of questions but also their voices.

“According to our team here, we’re expecting possibly a twenty-four to thirty-six-hour delay.”

Everyone groaned in unison, everyone but you. You’d traveled enough to always expect the unexpected. Things like this didn’t bother you so much now, three years into your career. The only thing that bothered you now was that you’d have to rearrange your hotel plans as well as finding somewhere to sleep tonight.

“You said here,” you began with all eyes trained to you. “Where exactly is here?”

The gentleman cleared his throat again. “Brexendor.”

The crowd murmured as they looked at each other. Clearly, no one had ever heard of Brexendor. Some even pulled out their travel map to scour it for the country.

“So what are we supposed to do now? Where do we stay?”

“We are in the process of arranging accommodations at one of the inns within the capital. If you all would work with us so we have your names to get your luggage to you in a timely fashion so you can be shuttled over to the Inn, that would be appreciated.”

Everyone filed into a line in front of one of the four airport staff, hoping to hurry matters along while you searched your phone for any information on where you were. When you typed in Brexendor into the search engine, the first thing that popped up was a map of the country. Apparently, it was next door to Sandvell. They were considered sister countries.

“Population three million, run as a monarchy, considered one of the wealthiest countries in the world. Average life expectancy one hundred and ten years. Well, damn.”

Someone clearing their throat brought your attention up in front of you. You were next in line.

“Sorry.”

The woman with brown eyes and blonde hair smiled warmly. “It’s all right, Ms--.”

“Uh, Thornton, Xari Thornton.” You handed her your passport and boarding pass and waited as she scrolled through her tablet.

“Ah yes, Ms. Thornton. Here is your paperwork. On it, you will find where you can retrieve your luggage and the shuttle number that will be taking you to the Inn. Once at the Inn, just provide your name, and you will find everything has been taken care of. On behalf of Brexendor Aviation, we humbly apologize for this snafu.”

Her customer service training was on point, you thought. Her smile was warm, as if she really meant the words she’d just said. Finding it refreshing, you took the paperwork and proceeded to where she was motioning. Everyone you passed as you walked the fancy halls had a warm smile plastered to their face and even warmer words of welcome. You felt as if you’d stepped through into some alternate universe. You made a voice note about everything you encountered. You wanted to make sure you captured your authentic feelings and reactions in real-time. It made writing about your experience on the blog page easier. You’d even found that readers and supporters liked the play by play with your added thoughts. They commented it added personality.

Once you’d made it to the baggage claim area, your jaw dropped at the change in décor. There were Christmas trees that sparsely decorated the space, and they were all lit with the same blue, silver, and white theme. It contrasted with the latte color of the leather seats and the cream offset tables. The design gave the space an elegant but also comfortable vibe. When you slipped into one of the chairs, you released an audible moan. It was like sitting on a cloud.

After gathering your luggage, you followed instructions through a hall lined with Christmas trees, stopping every so often to take a few pictures before you made it to the front of the airport. As you stepped outside, your eyebrows shot up seeing the fresh snow cascading from the sky. The bite in the air had you bundling your jacket tighter, but it did not stop you from snapping a few pictures. One turned to ten and ten to fifteen until another person clearing their throat brought you back to reality and to the waiting bus ahead of you.

You took a break from pictures and called the hotel in Sandvell, hoping to alter the dates of your stay. What you expected to be a hassle and a long drawn out process ending in them saying they were booked and nothing could be done, turned out to be quick, easy, and painless. The Luxembourg Hotel assured you that your room would still be available and there would be no charge for the altered dates. You made another note on your phone, a point you had to stress when you wrote your piece.

You continued snapping pictures from the window of the bus with an easy mind. Everything you passed seemed like it didn’t belong. It all looked so old fashioned but so modern all at the same time. The buildings looked to have been standing since the beginning of time in the materials they’d been built in, but the displays were from the twenty-first century. It was the most exciting contradiction. The only word you could think to describe it was—quaint.

When the bus drove over a bridge, you got a semi-bird’s eye view of the town across the water, and your jaw nearly dropped.

“Brexendor? What the hell?”

The entire drive had you widening your eyes like a child seeing an insane amount of presents on Christmas morning. Buildings were decked out in Christmas lights, and every door had a wreath with blue and silver Christmas ornaments. Almost every few feet, the sidewalks were decorated with poinsettia trees that were half the average human’s height, and the way the freshly fallen snow-dusted their tops only made it even more perfect.

By the time the bus stopped, you’d taken so many pictures, and part of you was dreading having to go through them to choose the ones that would make the cut. You knew it was going to be a next to impossible decision. As you stepped off the bus, you felt like you’d walked right into a snow globe.

“Holy shit!”

You spun, taking in a full three-sixty view of your surroundings. all the glistening lights and the falling snow only made it feel even more magical. You didn’t know where the hell Brexendor was or why the hell they rolled like this, but you were excited to see more. When you stopped spinning, you realized several other people were snapping pictures and looking just as marveled as you were. After gathering your luggage, you followed instructions and walked across the street to the building that a friendly looking man with slightly greying hair was standing before beckoning you inside.

For the second time that night, you felt as if you’d stepped into a Christmas movie set. The interior was set so cozy. It felt like a Christmas cottage, and you loved it. Instinct had you reaching for your camera and taking a few shots of the Christmas tree in the corner by the fireplace and the plaid decorations on the leather couch. Even the pictures on the walls got a snap.

“Miss?”

Looking back to the owner, you smiled and approached the desk.

“Hi, I’m so sorry. This place is so gorgeous.”

“Thank you. I wish I could take the credit, but it is all my wife.”

Just then, a beautiful brunette came out wearing a bright red sweater and one of those spoof reindeer antler headbands that bounced with every move.

“Hi, there darling. Welcome to The Beaux. I’m Anita, and this is my husband, Borik. I heard all about your ordeal. I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged but kept your smile plastered on your face.

“It’s all right. Can’t control the weather, right?”

Anita smiled and nodded. “Definitely not in Brexendor.”

“I have never heard of this place before, and I am lost how. Everything is gorgeous and so quaint. How have you stayed under the radar?”

Anita and Borik looked at each other with an all-knowing look that you wanted in on.

“Guess it’s just happened,” Anita cheerfully said.

You knew they knew something. Staying this under the radar, including from America, didn’t just happen. This took work. You wondered who in charge in their right mind would make a stupid decision like that.

“Okay, what’s your name, darling?”

“Uh, Xari Thornton.”

“Ah-ha, I told you, Borik. Once we were contacted with a list of names that would be checking in, and I saw your name, I told him I just know she’s gorgeous and look. You are a vision.”

You couldn’t help but smile widely while trying to keep your head under proper proportions.

“Thank you.”

“You must have quite the many suitors where you’re from,” Anita continued.

You snorted and shook your head. The reality was you were as single as the number one with no prospects.

“No suitors here.”

Both Borik and Anita looked shocked, as if you’d said the most appalling thing.

“That can’t be true. Borik. She’s single and at twenty-eight. Even our Kennedy was at least engaged by the time she turned twenty-seven. Here that is unheard of. A woman is usually married by twenty-four, especially if she’s a looker.”

You pinched your lips, trying to keep your laughter in. this was not the first time you’d been called an old maid. Hell, your mother said it often, especially since you flat out turned down Maurice’s proposal three months ago. She was livid.

Anita must have sensed the awkwardness of the moment because she cleared her throat and brought all her attention back to the reservation.

“Well, your room is prepared. I took the liberty of giving you one of our prettiest rooms. Would you like Borik to carry your bags up?”

“Uh—no, I’m sure I can manage,” you began.

Borik stood, shook his head, and came around to you.

“I won’t hear a thing about it. I’ll happily carry your luggage up. Follow me.”

“That’s my Borik, ever the gentleman,” Anita filled in with an enamored smile before Borik walked off, leaving her to check in a few of the other passengers from the plane.

You listened to Borik tell the story of the Inn and how it got its name. You kept one ear on his story while you took in every detail around you. The wood looked so rustic, and you guessed that was what gave the place such a warm and welcoming feeling. The higher you climbed, the more you saw, and the more you saw, the more you liked. You followed Borik down a hall, noticing that all the doors you passed had mini wreaths decked out in the same blue and silver ornaments like at the airport and throughout the streets.

“Ah-ha, here we are,” Borik said before he put the key into the lock and pushed the door open. Once he did, the scent of cinnamon and pine hit you in the face. It was like the hand of Christmas came out and smacked you.

“My wife loves the smell,” Borik explained as you stepped inside. You smiled and thanked him for his help.

“If you get hungry, you have a few options. There are plenty of places nearby you can eat some authentic Brexendorian food, but also my wife cooks every night, and dinner usually is at eight o’clock, but tonight Anette has agreed to keep some heated for anyone who would like some. It’s stew, rabbit.”

“Oh, thumper. Wonderful.”

Borik laughed loudly with that one. “I know that one, Bambi, the children’s cartoon. Good one Ms. Thornton.”

You smiled. “You can call me Xari, Borik.”

“Well, have a good night,” he said before he walked out.

Finally alone, the first thing you did was text your sister to let her know not to worry and give her an update on what was happening. After you let Anika know what was happening, it didn’t take long for your phone to ring. The next ten or so minutes were spent talking to Anika and telling her how amazing the things you’d seen so far were. You could not shut up about the decorations, the way the snow looked to have been groomed to lay on things perfectly. It was that damn picturesque. Since you couldn’t stop talking about it, Anika was the one to suggest you go out and enjoy it before you got back on the plane. It was a suggestion you fully intended on listening to.

Fifteen minutes later, you were back downstairs bundled with your camera and your purse, ready to explore. When you told Anita your intention, she gave you a map of the city and highlighted places to look at but cautioned you to hurry because stores would be closing soon, and nights during Brexendor winters could be brutal. You promised you’d be quick and careful, then stepped out, ready to explore like Dora.

Your first stop was a block down, a children’s toy store. It was decked out with all the latest toys along with some traditional things that Santa would have brought specially made from his workshop. While you were snapping pictures outside the window, a kid ran up to the window and pressed his nose to it. His eyes were wide, and his mouth matched their size. You asked the adult with him if you could take a picture. When they approved, you got one or two from a few different angles before they walked off.

As you walked through the city, enjoying the scenery, you took pictures of everything that caught your eye, ornaments, trees, people, stores, even pets. Christmas wasn’t your favorite holiday, but it was your second favorite, and being here really as inching it higher on the list.

When you felt a strong wind hit you, it stopped you in your tracks. It was strong enough to have you stagger backward a little, allowing a chill to sweep through you. You looked around and saw a few feet away was some sort of bar, and behind it was swirling snow that looked like a tornado. You hurried toward the building, being careful not to slip on any ice that may be hiding underneath the snow. Once to the door, you walked inside, and the sound of Christmas carols filled your ears.

“Jesus.”

If the scent of the Inn felt like Christmas slapped you in the face, the look and sound of this place was the one two-hitter that settled that you were in a whole nother world here. You looked around and found a coat rack along the left wall. After placing your jacket and scarf on the hook, you walked to the bar and slid onto a stool. As you waited for the bartender to come over, you looked around. Here it didn’t smell like cinnamon, but the pine was present, along with the smell of alcohol and licorice.

There were several small dark wooden tables around the bar with chairs and even booths that decorated the walls. The floors matched the tables, and those matched the walls. This place looked like somewhere you’d find in the middle of nowhere. The window to the back of the establishment showed the dark woods with tall snow-covered trees and that howling snow tornado.

When you turned back to the back, the huge elk head above the wall lined with alcohol bottles had you gasping.

“Jeez,” you said as you snapped two of three pictures of the creepy looking thing.

“That is Hogan’s prized possession.”

You looked beside you where the voice came from to see a very attractive man there. When you’d sat down, you didn’t notice anyone beside you, so to see his piercing blue eyes boring holes into you. Your eyes traveled lower to his awkwardly shaped nose. It looked like it had been broken once or twice and never quite went back to normal. You didn’t mind it, though. Who liked a perfect face, especially when looking at him, seemed like that was about the only thing that was not absolutely perfect. His jaw was carved to precision like he was specially crafted and not born. When your eyes fell to his lips, you purposely forced yourself to look away.

“Is—is that right?”

“Yes. I bet you cannot guess why,” the stranger said in a crisp European accent that was very close to British. You weren’t one hundred percent sure if it was or not, he just sounded proper as hell, and it was actually a bit of a turn on.

You shrugged while looking at the bottles that lined the back of the bar. “Enlighten me.”

Just then, a large man with blond hair in a man bun walked over. He had to have been over six feet tall, and if this were America, he’d definitely be a shopper at the store Big & Tall. The man looked to the one seated beside you, ready to speak but suddenly closed his mouth.

“Hogan, Ms--,” the stranger began waiting for you to fill in your name.

He thought he was so smooth; you thought as you smiled to yourself.

“Xari.”

His eyebrow shot up, and he smiled sweetly. “Wow, what a beautiful name.”

You smiled, and as you felt it widening, you bit onto your bottom lip to stop it. “Thanks.”

“Ms. Xari would like to know why Shandoe is your most prized possession.”

“Shandoe?”

Hogan looked behind him at the Elk’s head then smiled. “It’s been in my family for generations. It was the first thing my great-great-great-great-great grandfather ever killed for himself to feed his family. They ate everything but the head and decided to keep it as a reminder of where we came from.”

You were expecting some weird manly story but what you got was a wholesome and heartwarming tale. You smiled, raised your camera, and snapped Hogan, and as he stared at the Elk’s head with such a loving look on his face that was such a contradiction for his large frame.

“Are you a reporter?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’m a travel influencer and blogger. I go around and soak up what the world has to offer while taking pictures and writing about it on my blog for others to read about.”

The man beside you nodded, then raised his glass to his head.

“What can I get you?”

“Uh—what is he drinking?”

“The Mistletoe Bomb.”

You snorted, unable to contain yourself any longer. “What in the world is that?”

“You laugh now, but it is a blend he makes special for me. It is not for the faint of heart,” the man beside you informed.

“Oh no, well looks like I’ll be having one of those.”

Hogan looked to him, then back to you. “It is all right, Hogan. Give the lady what she wants. I am assuming fell strength is also what you require?”

“Yes, full strength. I want all the mistletoe and all the bomb.”

Hogan went to work, making the drink while you continued looking around.

“Em, I’m Henry.”

You looked to him to find his hand outstretched to you, waiting for you to place yours in it. When you did, you repeated your name as you noted how soft his hands were. It felt like he’d never done a day’s work with them. Henry rose your hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. It was one small action, but that action had butterflies flitting in your belly and your cheeks heating as if a heater was aimed directly at your face.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” Henry uttered while looking into your eyes.

“Same,” you whispered.

Henry released your hand and turned back to his drink at the same time Hogan placed a mug before you.

“One Mistletoe Bomb for the lady.”

You looked at the large mug then to Hogan, who waited expectantly. When your eyes drifted to Henry beside you, he too was watching and waiting. No matter how much you felt like this was a setup, you persisted, not wanting to back down. When you took your first full mouthful of the drink, your eyes immediately bugged. Your tongue was on fire in seconds, and it seemed the longer you held the liquid in your mouth, the worse the burn was. You gulped it down and instantly knew the mistake. Not only was your mouth on fire, but now your throat and chest as it burned a fiery path to your belly.

“Holy fucking shit!”

The two men boisterously laughed, the sounds booming off the wooden walls before filling the entire room. You looked around, noticing for the first time it was completely empty.

“What the hell is that?”

“Something that will put hair on your chest,” Hogan teased.

“No, shit.”

Henry seemed to like that response; he laughed again then finished his mug.

“How can you drink this?”

He shrugged, then turned his body to you. You gave him a well-paced once over, taking in his furry winter boots, dark pants, and dark sweater to match the pants. Underneath the sweater, though, you saw peeks of a crisp white shirt. He dressed like he had money, you thought.

“I have done it for half my life. I do not even feel the burn anymore. Do you know why he calls it Mistletoe Bomb now?”

You giggled and nodded, pushing the mug away. If you drank that, you’d need to be carried out of here. As Hogan appeared to take the mug away, Henry reached for it, insisting he’d finish it while Hogan placed a beer bottle in front of you.

“Would you like a straw?”

You looked at Hogan as if he were crazy. Who drank beer with a straw? You shook your head and raised the bottle to your lips to take a swig. This was more your speed, not pure petrol.

“So you are new in town,” Henry began.”

“Kind of. My plane had to detour because of the storm, so here I am in a place I’ve never heard of and cannot figure out why.”

“Is it strange to never have heard of every place in the world?”

You thought about it for a moment as you took another mouthful of beer then nodded.

“Yes. I’m from America,” you began.

“Ah, American. Let me guess. Everything has to be discovered, and if it is not, then either it doe not exist, or it is being hidden.”

You snapped your mouth shut. He’d guessed American thinking in one try. “Well, that’s not fun,” you added. Henry laughed and took his mouthful of fire.

“I am sorry. I know America well,” Henry informed.

“Oh, so you’ve been?”

“No. I do not need to. I have spent my entire life learning it.”

You looked back at him, confused by what he meant.

“Every country gives lessons on other countries of the word, especially powerhouse countries,” he explained.

“Well, your studies have paid off.”

“Do you really believe that everything has to be discovered?”

“No. where is the fun in that? I believe that the world has to have some mystery.”

“Then welcome to Brexendor,” Henry said with a smile.

“Brexendor. What’s it’s deal?”

You leaned closer, resting your elbow on the wood of the bar as you watched him.

“Deal? I am afraid I do not understand.”

“What I mean is, the people are nice. Everyone I have encountered, including at the airport, is nice. You know airport staff can be so mean, but not here. The people who own the Inn I am staying at are so sweet. Even strangers I bump into don’t;’ seem to mind. Not to mention, this place has the whole snow globe effect down. It’s incredible. What is the deal? Is the president some fantastic guy who pays everyone well and gives them ample vacation time for them to be so happy?”

Henry smiled, dipped his head lower, then rubbed the back of his neck.

“Would that be unusual?”

“Yes. Compared to what America has going on—highly unusual.”

“Well, the first thing to know about Brexendor is, a president does not run it,” Henry clarified.

“Ah right, it is a monarchy. So does that mean there is a king, and queen, lords, dukes,” you began, then gasped, remembering more. “Princesses?”

Henry smirked, gulped his drink, then nodded. “Yes.” He continued to take another swig from his mug.

His words slowly resonated. “What!? You’re serious?”

He nodded, then placed the glass onto the bar.

“Wow. How interesting. So this King and Queen are they the good kind?”

Henry’s smile turned somber before it disappeared altogether.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. Yes, the King and Queen are the best kind,” he filled in before he took the last mouthful of his drink. “They would like you.”

You laughed loudly and shook your head. “Me? I doubt that. While all the mothers of my boyfriends have loved me, I don’t think the King and Queen would care for me.”

“Boyfriend, so uh—you’re involved,” Henry said as he avoided your eyes.

His words sounded like a statement rather than a question, so you remained quiet. After a few moments, he looked at you expectantly. You pinched your lips before you finished your beer.

“Are you involved?”

Henry took a deep breath looked forward to the bottles at the bar as a pained and confused expression washed over his features.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you replied.

“I am not—involved,” he answered.

“You said it like you weren’t sure.”

“It is complicated.”

“Well, I am a stranger in a bar—an empty bar. You’ll most likely never see me again, and I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”

Henry smiled then turned back to you, resting his elbow on the bar mimicking your stance.

“You have not answered my inquiry.”

“Inquiry?”

Henry smiled again, then bit his bottom lip. That is where your eyes went to. He had nice lips, you thought.

“On if you are involved,” he clarified.

“I am not involved with anyone. If you ask my mother, she will tell you I’m an old maid with no prospects.”

“I do not believe that. You are funny, intelligent, fun to be around, and quite beautiful. There is no way you have no admirers.”

You smiled and began toying with your necklace.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls you meet in deserted bars during a snow storm.”

He snorted, and you felt his breath across your cheek. It was then you realized how close the two of you were to each other.

“To be honest, I have never found myself alone with a woman in a bar. You are my first.”

You bit your bottom lip feeling more flirtatious than usual as you gazed into his hypnotizing eyes. He was gorgeous and becoming even more so with every passing minute. The two of you ordered more drinks, then drifted off to one of the booths on the wall that was more hidden and even more comfortable. You talked about nearly everything and nothing at the same time. He spoke a lot about philosophy and astronomy and the sciences that motivated a lot of the earlier theories. It was fascinating just listening to him speak. There was something about his mouth and the properness of the words he used. Never once did he use slang or even a contraction. You’d never met anyone who didn’t use contractions. The longer you sat there, the more you felt like never getting up.

“There is something about you that is so comfortable and easy,” Henry began.

“You too.”

“I feel like I can talk to you about anything. I even want to.”

You smiled, “You too.”

Your eyes lingered, and you saw him sway forward, but then he stopped only to do it again and again. With your faces were centimeters from one another, it was then you noticed the slight speck of brown in his left eye. You felt Henry’s hand gently cup your cheek; then, his thumb slowly stroked your skin. The heat from his palm seared your cheek, and every stroke of his thumb send heat tendrils down your jaw to your lips, making them tingle and yearn for his.

This had never happened to you in your entire life. You’d known this man a few hours and were ready to possibly bring him back to the Inn with you. Henry didn’t move. It was like he was giving you the last few centimeters to make a decision, but you didn’t make it. A phone went off, but you both ignored it until the sound went off. You raised your hand to rest on top of his. Once your skin touched his, Henry lightly sighed out. Before either of you could make another move, a phone rang again. This time Henry groaned before he looked away just as you did.

You cleared your throat and slid from his body as he checked his phone.

“I have to go,” he announced.

Frozen, you sat there trying to understand if you’d read this entire thing wrong.

“I am sorry, something—urgent has come up.”

You snapped out of it, then nodded. “It’s fine. I should probably get back to the Inn anyway. They say a storm is brewing.”

Both of you stood from the booth while straightening your clothes.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” Henry added.

You smiled and nodded. “Me too. It was—nice.”

Your eyes lingered again, and your bodies drifted closer. It was you who looked away first and stepped back. You reached for your purse, but Henry stopped you.

“It has been taken care of. Let us call it a tourist special, right Hogan.”

“Right your--,” Hogan began before Henry looked at him, cutting him off.

Henry ushered you to the coat rack on the wall by the door then helped you into your jacket.

“Can I drive you back to the Inn?”

“No, please. I am more than capable of getting back,” you assured.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded then turned to walk out, but Henry pulled you to him. “I want to see you again.”

“I don’t see how. I leave tomorrow as soon as the storm passes.”

Henry looked to be thinking before he sighed. “I guess it was not meant to be,” you whispered, a tinge of sadness filling you as reality set in.

“In another life,” Henry softly said.

He came closer then placed a slow, chaste kiss on your cheek before he released you. The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, and in those moments, anything felt possible. When you faced that anything could have been possible but not for you, you sighed. A few seconds later, you turned and walked out of the bar.

Once outside, the rough wind caught you off guard. You took a few moments to bundle yourself, then continued walking back to the Inn. The swirling snow in the air made it a little challenging to see, but you tried the best you could. Several times, the wind picked up and shoved you where it wanted, forcing you to grab on to something to hold until it passed.

Suddenly a big gust of wind blew you to the right and knocking you off your feet to roll for several feet. When the wind slowed, you rolled over onto your back to spit out the mouthful of snow that you’d managed to ingest. It took you several tries to stand, but when you did, you tried to see where you were and what direction you needed to walk in. That was when the wind picked up again, making you scream. When you turned, you saw two headlights coming right at you, then all you felt was pain before you were out cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

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To Be Continued - Part 6

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

In this chapter, the jealousy flare up is strong lol.

Word count: 2307

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

The warning bells you had been hoping to ring sounded around your home a second time, and you stepped down from the tips of your toes that you hadn’t realised you were standing upon and ducked under Brian’s arm, escaping the almost kiss to see who was here.

You guessed it was your mother, knowing her impromptu visits often occurred at night. Or Lily was back from visiting her family and wanted to check in on you as she usually did. However, nothing prepared you for who was standing there.

“Su-Sungjin.”

“My other rival has arrived,” you heard Brian mumble under his breath as he stopped beside you.

The police officer looked at you and then Brian, suddenly growing reserved. He laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, Y/N. I should have called ahead of visiting you. I just was worried about you and wanted to check if you were okay. It seems like you are.”

“She is,” Brian confirmed, and you glanced at him hopelessly before shunting him in the stomach and opening your door further.

“Please, come inside.”

“Oh, I don’t wish to intrude when you have a guest here already,” Sungjin mentioned, though he stepped over the threshold far too easily, eying Brian carefully before smiling down at you. “Did you find out about the stalker?”

“Stalker is a bit of a far-fetched term, don’t you think, Constable?” Brian answered before you could, and you noticed the hint of annoyance in his eyes.

You knew that Brian, when protective of someone, wasn’t afraid to use his hands if necessary. Jumping in front of him with a light laugh, you then smiled up at Sungjin to try and break their staring war.

Thankfully, it worked. “Have you had dinner at all, Sungjin? I was just about to order in something and can add on another serving for you?”

“I’m sure the busy police officer doesn’t have time to stay for dinner.”

“Interesting that we don’t even know each other and you’re answering for me,” Sungjin rebutted, glowering at the man behind you. “I’m guessing Y/N told you about me?”

“It’s a long story,” you mentioned, wondering just how many more times you’d have to use that line when it came to Brian’s existence. “Dinner?”

“Would love to,” Sungjin agreed.

It was awkward as you waited for the delivery to arrive, glancing between the two men glaring at one another and then at the door hoping for salvation. Whilst you were excited to see Sungjin again, you hadn’t really thought this through.

After all, before he turned up on your doorstep, you were fully committed to kissing the man who firmly placed himself at your side. Then again, you had already day-dreamed about kissing Sungjin multiple times before Brian had even stepped out of your computer.

Your heart and mind were a mess, as was this dinner suggestion. You were relieved when the pizza turned up, diving towards the front door with your purse in hand. Paying the driver a tip, you then returned with the meal, placing it down on the table and spreading it out. “Let’s eat!”

“So, let’s hear about this long story,” Sungjin asked midway through your second piece of pizza, in which you choked upon. Both men thrust their drink towards you, and you looked at their offerings before meekly reaching for your own.

“The story,” Brian repeated, and Sungjin glanced at him curiously. “I guess you want to know who I am.”

“He’s my cousin’s friend!” you blurted out, and Brian gaped at you instantly. “Brian is just staying here because his flat is infested with bugs. You don’t do bugs, right, Brian?”

“Cousin’s friend. Bugs. Uh-huh.” Looking over at Sungjin’s surprised expression, Brian sighed heavily. “That’s me. Brian, the cousin’s friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about that,” Sungjin mentioned, a small relieved smile crossing his lips. “Hopefully it gets fixed soon.”

“Actually, I think it’s going to take a really long time. I might just end up moving in here permanently,” Brian commented with a strained smile, and you clamped your eyes shut with frustration before trying to smile politely at Sungjin.

The police officer smiled warmly back at you and began to eat again.

Thankfully, he didn’t stay too long, happy enough to see you were okay and when you confirmed you hadn’t heard from your strange intruder since Brian had arrived, it placated him enough to head for your front door.

“Dinner was lovely,” he mentioned, and you laughed.

“It was an awkward disaster.”

Sungjin nodded, chuckling softly. “Next time, I’ll take you out somewhere, if you like.”

“Re-really?”

“Only if you’re free too.”

“She’s going to be reallyyyy busy writing the next story in her trilogy, right, Miss Writer?” Brian added into the conversation, and your mood dampened again with his arrival at your side. Slinging an arm over your shoulder for effect – which worked – Brian smiled all too happily. “So busy that I wonder if she’ll even have time to eat. You know, when she’s stuck up in her worlds, she often forgets to even feed herself. Lucky I’m here, right?”

“I’ll call you!” you managed to tell Sungjin with a wave, before shutting the front door and spinning around to face the remaining man. “Wow! I never expected you to be like this!”

“Surely, you did! I mean, you created me!” Brian exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “And now I’m your cousin’s friend too?! You’re so good with stories, Miss Writer. Do you know what is real life and what isn’t?”

“You’re impossible when you’re jealous.”

“And you invited your hero in here when you had no need to! What are you going to do? Have a moment with him in the kitchen too? Tell him how he’s the only cop for you?!”

“Your bitterness is unfair!” you warned, stalking over to the table to clean up the takeout containers. Brian joined you, stacking the plates and cups you had used and took them over to the sink. You worked in harmony in clearing up the mess before you realised what you had both done. Stopping to watch as Brian vigorously scrubbed at a cup, you reached over for his hand and ceased his actions altogether.

“I panicked.”

“About what exactly? That the man you’ve been pining over since you met him just recently was on your doorstep or the guy you created in your stories was about to kiss you for the first time?”

So it was about to happen. Gulping back your emotions from his admission of the fact, you nodded. “Of both.”

“What are you going to do about it then, Y/N? You can’t play us both.”

“I wasn’t playing-”

“I guess that hero of yours makes me the villain for turning up, huh?” he muttered before rinsing off the cup and placing it to the side of the sink, turning on his heel for your guest bedroom and shut the door with a bang.

The following morning, you were the first one up. Binks met you in the living room, winding himself around your legs and mewling for his breakfast. Smiling, you picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to the kitchen. Settling him down by his food mat, you then picked up his bowl and filled it with fresh food before placing it back in front of him. You watched as he ate happily, relaxing into the simple nature of your usual routine.

Without Sungjin or Brian, life sure had been just that – simple.

Yet, you knew you wanted to fill the loneliness in your heart also. It had taken you some time to fall asleep last night, staring at the screen of your laptop at the words To Be Continued over and over. Wondering why Brian kept changing it to that instead of The End had plagued your thoughts all night long.

You had been hoping to meet him in the kitchen for breakfast and discuss it with him but you had gotten up before him. Waiting for over twenty minutes, and making as much noise as you could without being too rude, you finally walked down to the room and rapped your knuckles over the door. “Brian, can I come in?”

No answer.

Knocking a little louder this time, you repeated your question to receive, once more, silence in return. Unlatching the door, you stepped inside to find it empty of his presence.

It all hit you then like a tonne of bricks, and you went through your house from room to room in a blind panic, wondering where he had gone. Finding yourself in your office, you opened the lid to your laptop and hurried to turn it on, waiting to sign in to your account before dashing into your files for your latest story. Opening it, you bounced on the spot as your fears got heightened.

What if Brian had gone back into his world without even saying goodbye?!

You had definitely turned off the device last night before bed, but could he have turned it on and headed back into Captivated? Would he even remember you if he had?

After all the thoughts of insanity you had endured with his sudden arrival in your life, you were now equally despairing his departure. You hadn’t even kissed him yet! Let alone shared a day with him doing all the things you wanted to do. How could he just leave you like this –

“Y/N?”

Spinning around to find Brian behind you in exercise clothes and sweating from a morning run, you let go of your laptop and lurched towards him, wrapping your arms firmly around his waist. Whilst he immediately held your distraught body, he chuckled a little also. “I just went for a run. I don’t care what you say about me, even guys like me stink when we sweat.”

“You’re still here!”

“Of course, I am. Where did you think I was?” Brian asked, and when your sniffling turned to sobs, Brian attempted to pull you away from his body but you gripped on tighter. “You thought I had gone back into the story?”

“What else was I meant to think when you weren’t here, and there was no note?! Especially after last night-”

“That’s why I went for a run, to clear my head,” he admitted. “I’m sorry I didn’t leave you a note. I thought you would sleep in like usual.”

“I’m sorry too,” you replied, shaking your head, your tears spreading around the room and landing upon him in the process. “I shouldn’t be like this over you. I mean, I feel like I’ve known you forever yet you’ve only been here a couple of days and you’re right, I should be more clear with Sungjin, but I didn’t know what to do and-”

Your sentence was caught against his mouth, swift as it pressed upon yours, did it leave. Brian, evidently surprised at his attempt to stop your fevered rambling, cleared his throat before staring down at you for your reaction.

It only took you a second to think about it before you stretched up and coveted his mouth with yours. Unlike his quick peck, you moved in with the intention of savouring this one. Slowly, your mouths pressed together, tasting one another. He was slightly salty, due to the way his skin has perspired from his run and yet you didn’t care, pressing into his body further the longer your lips were attached to his. Your mind swirled with desire, and your heart thumped erratically as a result.

You were kissing Brian Kang.

When writing kissing scenes with him and Charli, albeit there had only been three so far, you had struggled. Just how would Brian Kang be as a kisser? No matter how much you had imagined his style or the way he would caress Charli, this moment in time was unlike anything you had penned. This was an entirely new feeling.

There was a hunger driving his lips now, his hands firmly taking purchase of your hips, drawing you in closer, making you his as much as you had made him yours. The taste to him changed, heating up with how his tongue dipped behind your teeth to greet yours, as if this exchange was something you two had done before. Kissing Brian was new, and yet it felt as if you had been doing it all your life. You were certain you could continue to keep kissing him as well, had you no need for air. However, you pulled away then, gasping in deep breaths, your mind and eyes blown from the experience.

Brian appeared just as dishevelled.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t apologise for kissing me,” Brian murmured, running his thumb over your now swollen lips. He smiled giddily before looking back at you with bright eyes. “Don’t ever apologise for it.”

“You’re sure?”

“That was some kiss,” he told you, cupping your cheek within his hand. Leaning in closer again, you felt your breath heighten, moistening your lips for him to take them hostage again. However, he merely kissed your cheek before letting you go entirely. “I’m going to have to watch myself around you, Miss Writer. Our story’s only just begun, and we’re already kissing one another. You’re more dangerous than I thought you’d be for my heart.”

“Why did I create you to say lines like that?!” you groaned as Brian slipped away from you and headed down the hallway towards your bathroom. Sticking your head around the corner to watch his departure, Brian stopped outside the door and glanced back at you, biting his lip before shaking his head and stepped into the bathroom to shower from his run.

Leaning against the threshold for support, you held your heart again.

It was beating in tune for him now.

_________________

Part 7

[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#kwritersworldnet #young k #young k fiction #young k fluff #young k romance #young k au #day6 #day6 fiction #day6 fanfic #day6 fluff #day6 romance #day6 au #pwyl; to be continued #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop romance

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sheliesshattered · 4 years ago

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This Isn’t A Ghost Story extras for Chapter 8: The Temple

The eighth and final chapter of This Isn’t A Ghost Story has been posted! You can find it here on AO3 and here on Tumblr. Below the cut are extras for this chapter and a few things for the story over all. I’ve had such fun writing this fic, and hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it and following along with the writing process here too!

Like the previous chapter, chapter 8 is named for the location where it takes place, in this case the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, which is near the Valley of the Kings, Thebes, and modern Luxor, on the west bank of the Nile.

As mentioned in both this chapter and previous chapters, several sections of the temple have stars painted on a blue background on the ceilings:

The ‘towering statue’ Clara comments on is one of a line of statues depicting the pharaoh Hatshepsut as the god Osiris, only a few of which are still standing:

Here’s a short video showing both the exterior and interior of the temple from earlier this year.

I came across the Temple of Hatshepsut fairly early in my writing process, when I was looking into what archaeological dig sites were active in the 1910s and 1920s. This photo from the late 1920s shows the continuing work going on in the area (that’s the Temple at the back left), and served as part of the inspiration for Clara’s memory of finding the Doctor at a dig site in Thebes in 1921:

About a month into writing This Isn’t A Ghost Story, I was grappling with the detail of Clara’s wedding ring, based on the poll results you guys gave me. I had been toying with going with an emerald for her ring, since emeralds have some interesting ties to ancient Egypt, but I also really wanted to go the route of a TARDIS-blue sapphire, and in particular a star sapphire really appealed to me, for its look and its symbolism. The results of that little impromptu poll clearly pointed to a star sapphire -- but also suggested I tie it into the world-building somehow.

Those two elements came together in my head rather abruptly when I remembered the star ceiling at the Temple of Hatshepsut, and after digging into the history of Hatshepsut, I realized it worked almost too well. On 28 June this final epilogue chapter sprang into being in basically the form you see it in here, baring a few edits I’ve made to it in the three months (!!) since then.

As the Doctor says in this chapter, the Temple was designed and overseen by Hatshepsut’s head advisor Senenmut, and many modern Egyptologists do in fact believe that the two may have been lovers during Hatshepsut’s time as pharaoh. While there are many stylized statues of Senenmut (including a few of him with Hatshepsut’s daughter, to whom he served as primary tutor), archaeologists have also found ostracons, chips of limestone that ancient artists used as throw-away sketching surfaces, that depict Senenmut in what he more likely looked like in life:

Please tell me I’m not the only one who sees this resemblance:

And then there’s Hatshepsut herself, who is depicted in numerous different ways throughout art and statuary, sometimes shown as more typically male in her role as pharaoh, but more often shown in what Egyptologists believe she looked like in life -- large eyes, full cheeks, and a small chin:

I mean:

Once my brain made that connection, I really couldn’t let it go.

I had originally planned to end the story with the sequence in the Cairo museum that eventually became chapter 7, but the connection between Clara and the Doctor and the real historical Hatshepsut and Senenmut -- with the added parallel of Senenmut as tutor and guardian of Hatshepsut’s daughter corresponding to the Doctor watching over Margot in Ghost Story, even -- was just too good to pass up.

Senenmut’s tomb is as the Doctor described it, with the oldest known astronomical ceiling of any tomb or temple in Egypt:

His tomb is very near to the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, and tunnels into the cliffside such that it is extremely close to Hatshepsut’s own tomb, which is entered from the Valley of the Kings, on other side of that mountainous area. This has only further fueled speculation that the two were very much in love -- as pharaoh, Hatshepsut had to have her tomb built in the Valley of the Kings, and as a commoner Senenmut couldn’t be buried there. But they could design their tombs such that they would be as close as possible to each other, even if the entrances are miles apart.

Part of my goal with this final chapter was to give a hint at a larger story that this version of Clara and the Doctor are just a part of. I left the possibility that they had once been Hatshepsut and Senenmut intentionally open-ended, so the reader can make their own decision. They might have been, they might not have been, but in the end what matters is that they are together and in love now.

Similarly I also wanted to make allusions to both Doctor Who canon -- Senenmut as an ancient astronomer, and Clara’s comments about travelling the stars together in their next life -- as well as the wide variety of fanfiction that exists for this ship. In a way there are thousands of versions of them scattered about out there, finding each other and falling in love over and over again. This Isn’t A Ghost Story doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it’s part of a much larger multi-layered story that is constantly being told and re-told. And in many ways, that’s what I love best about fanfiction versus any other genre of fiction.

The process of writing this story has been so interesting and rewarding, frustrating at times and huge amounts of fun at other points. With this final chapter posted, This Isn’t A Ghost Story is officially the first multi-chapter, non-series fanfic I have ever actually finished, in more than a decade of posting fanfiction online. This is the first time I’ve made myself wait to start posting a story until it’s nearly complete, and I documented more about my process thoughts here on Tumblr than I have for anything I’ve written previously.

It has been a fantastic nearly four month journey, and so much of that is down to the lovely interactions with those of you reading, both here and over on AO3. From the early interest many of you expressed way back at the beginning of June, to the comments and cheerleading on my #process thoughts posts throughout the summer, to all the many wonderful and humbling comments on the story on AO3, I could not have made this journey without you guys. With what a strange, stressful, and often depressing year 2020 has been, I know that when I look back on this year, this is what I’m going to remember the best, taking this journey along with all of you.

And on that note -- do any of you have any questions about Ghost Story? Anything about the writing process or the world building or really anything at all, I am more than happy to answer in as much detail as you like. Feel free to ask here, or on AO3, or use my Tumblr askbox, now or at any point in the future. ❤️

@tounknowndestinations had asked about the timeline I worked out for the entire story, that I’ve been keeping under wraps for fear of spoilers. Originally this started as just a way to keep straight how many years had passed -- ‘do I say eighty-six years here, or eighty-seven??’ etc -- but eventually ballooned from there to cover the entire narrative, and even some of the timeline that is only hinted at in places. This is its final form in my working googledoc:

1875: the Doctor is born

1885: the House is built

February 1899: Clara the 1st is born

13 May 1921: the Doctor and Clara the 1st meet in Cairo, she is 22, he is 46

12 May 1923: the Doctor and Clara the 1st marry in Glasgow, she is 24, he is 48

June 1925: Clara and the Doctor return from Egypt

August 1925: purchase of the House

23 Nov 1927: the Doctor dies, age 52

21 August 1928: Margot is born

23 Nov 1928: Clara the 1st dies, age 29

8 April 1956: Ellie is born. Margot is 27

23 Nov 1986: Clara is born. Ellie is 30

1991: at 5 years old, Clara tells Ellie and Margot about the ghost

September 2000: Ellie dies of cancer, age 44. Clara is not quite 14

January 2010: Dave Oswald dies of a heart attack, age 56. Clara is 23

October 2014: Margot dies, age 86, leaving her house to Clara, who is nearly 28

16 Nov 2014: Clara has the nightmare that begins to unlock her past life memories

13 May 2021: Clara and the Doctor return to Cairo to mark 100 years since they met, the Doctor is restored to life

18 May 2021: Clara and the Doctor visit the Temple of Hatshepsut, which leads Clara to wonder if perhaps they have met and fallen in love before

Thank you so much to all of you who have followed along during the writing process, to everyone who has reblogged chapter posts here and commented on AO3, and everyone who has cheered me on during the past four months. You have made writing this such a joy, and I cannot wait to share my next project with you. ❤️

#This Isn't A Ghost Story #This Isn't A Ghost Story extras #process thoughts #my writing #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #Clara and the Doctor

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fanficmepage · 4 years ago

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Chapter 8

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Mornings were always serene in Wayne Manor. Bruce sat across from Alfred who was reading over the morning paper. Raven sat next to her father in a high chair, happily munching on dry Cheerios. Most mornings tended to be silent beside Raven’s baby babbles. However, a question loomed heavy in the air. Ever since the official announcement of his daughter, Selina decided to try dating Bruce. She joked the only reason she called was that she wanted to know if he ever got the shoe back on. He realized that image would haunt him for the rest of his life. Bruce didn’t mind though, Raven will grow to be quite embarrassed about it. It will work out in his favor in the end.

“You have another date with Ms. Kyle tonight, sir,” Alfred never looked up from his paper, making small talk.

“As long as no interruptions, easy home date.”

“Would our little bird be joining you both tonight?” Bruce turned to his happy little baby. Raven looked back at her father with a handful of cheerios and a smile. This almost didn’t feel real. Since he wore the cowl, the calm never felt real. The small moments they all share is what makes it all worth it.

“Dada,” Raven thrust her fist of cereal towards her father followed by a mixture of giggles and her attempts to form words. Leaning over, Bruce took a piece of cereal and quickly pecked her hand. Raven quickly pulled her hand away, smiling and eating.

Bruce gazed at his little girl. He wasn’t so sure about having Raven with them. Not that she is in the way, he would honestly prefer her there. He is more concerned about Selina. There was always something familiar with her since they met. It was the way she walked. It was almost catlike, graceful, and seductive. Bruce had to admit he was falling. There was finally someone with whom he could be open emotionally. After a few dates, he was finally able to briefly speak about his parents. It was comforting to know she was also orphaned as a young child. There was an undeniable connection between them, definitely an attraction. Yet, something egged at the back of his mind, like she was hiding something. Bruce can’t judge, he probably has the most skeletons in his closet. Maybe Alfred is right about the paranoia. But tonight, his little girl will be properly introduced to Selina, “I figured a nice night in, let the two get to know each other. Selina seems to be alright with it over the phone, I’m sure things will be fine.”

“Need I remind you that it took Raven about a week to warm up to me, sir. More than likely she will get fussy if Ms. Kyle is brave enough to hold her.”

“I am sure they will interact fine, besides, Raven should start interacting with people more. It's supposed to be good for them,” Bruce recalled a few notes from a book Alfred had brought him.

Bruce never once thought he would have to pick up parenting books so soon. Yet here he is, whenever some free time was allowed he would just sit there with his baby girl in one arm and book in another. Per grunting request, he would read out loud. These times would generally end in an impromptu but well-deserved nap time for both the baby and the bat. Alfred would quietly snap pictures of the pair: the book fell from Bruce’s hand to the floor, Raven tucked into his side with a tiny fist clutching his shirt for support. She nuzzled herself deeper into Bruce’s side, smiling at the comfort of the scent and warmth of her father. It was almost as if their souls connected in these moments like nothing else existed but them. With a strong arm around her, they would sleep peacefully. There was a strangeness to their bond. Looking back at his daughter who traded Cheerios for a bottle, he knew he was gone. Bruce knew his heart was gone to the child. His child. Reaching out and gently stroking her cheek, “I am sure they will get along fine. Even if she gets too fussy, I’ll be right there.”

The paper finally set down, Alfred looked properly at Bruce. He would admit, this is not how the butler thought his life would go. Ever since Bruce decided to bear the cowl, Alfred feared to be left alone. Some nights it felt like Bruce was trying to get himself killed. With all the stabs and bullet holes, the old man’s heart hurt as if they were his wounds. He may have only been Bruce’s guardian but he loved him like he was his son. Alfred worried that maybe he was the one who drove Bruce down the path of vengeance. Little hope rested in that child, one day she would be a wonderful woman. The day Bruce would have to let her go someday. For now, they would enjoy these moments. Although, the thought of Bruce dealing with the first boyfriend was quite amusing. He would not resist her pleading eyes. Hell, Bruce couldn’t even say no to the small pout for storytime. Their lives would never be the same but maybe that was for the best.

Bruce knew that this would come to be. Blame his naivety, she played him like a fool. There was always something familiar about the cat. He should have known sooner, since the boat. It isn’t like there weren't any signs, they were clear as day. The night Selina came over for the first time and left early, Catwoman was spotted again but later than her usual patterns. Now with the canceled date, the pieces fell together while in pursuit.

Jumping across roofs, it was the way she moved that gave her away. Selina moved with grace, almost it was as if she was seducing him. Bruce couldn’t deny that a part of him still wanted her. Yet, there was no way he could come up with an excuse. The first time he put on the cowl he figured he would go after gang members keeping the city in fear. Bruce was not prepared for there to be another masked person running around Gotham as well, there had already been reports speculating the connection. Batman already was having issues gaining police trust and this was no help.

Gaining up on her, Bruce reached out and finally grabbed Catwoman’s arm. He pulled her towards him, yanking the bag of gems from her hand. A flirty smirk danced on her lips, pressing up against him, “We must stop meeting like this, Batman.”

Selina immediately lashed out, aiming for the cowl. Bruce dodged back; quickly grabbing her hands and pinning them behind her back. After a few struggling kicks, Selina finally was handcuffed and unmasked. Bruce stared, hatred filling his eyes. Hatred of himself most of all. She played him hard. A grim reminder that this path he was on did not allow personal relationships. He wanted to bring this woman into his life! Raven’s life. It is not uncommon for children of wealthy parents to be taken and held for ransom. Sometimes they aren’t returned. The thought reminded Bruce of his nightmares. Even if abduction wasn’t Selina’s style, who knows who she knew that would. Information was worth more than any diamond in Gotham’s underground. Selina hadn’t seen much of the mansion that he knew of; he did leave her alone when Raven started crying.

Without a word, Bruce lifted her over his shoulder, carrying Selina to the police cars down below. Scenarios of Raven and Alfred being hurt by his blindness hurt more than any wound that Selina could ever inflict with her claws.

Changed and showered, Bruce sat at the computer and reviewed the file he had built. How many more of these alter ego criminals will appear? Something inside of him told him that Selina would be the first of many.

Before getting lost in his head, the sound of shuffling coming from Raven’s playpen. Bruce walked over and silently watched as Raven rolled around with her stuffed animals. Their eyes met: Raven’s sparkled with joy as she reached up to her father.

“Dada,” a wide smile took over her face, Bruce smiling right back. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, cuddling her tighter into his chest.

“I will always protect you, my princess,” Bruce gently rocked her back and forth, finally leaving the cave. Bruce remembers the warmth and love from a time that seemed so long ago. A song played in his head, a voice he longed to hear. The melody always calmed him as a child. Stroking Raven’s back, Bruce began softly singing to his child as his mother did to him:

Am I blue? Am I blue?

Ain’t these tears in my eyes telling you?

Am I blue? You’ll be to

If each with you made

Done fell through

Was a time I was your only one

But now I’m the sad

And lonely one,

"Lawdy, " Was I gay? 'til today,

Now she’s gone and we're through,

Am I blue?

I am going to be honest, I am not happy with how Selina ended. This isn't the end, I plan on writing her back into the story. I just need to get to know her character more before re-included into the story.

On a more positive note, I always loved the song Kevin Conroy sang in Justice League. It's so calm and soothing. If I recall correctly, Bruce said it was a lullaby Martha would sing it to him as a child. Here is the link for reference: https://youtu.be/fuHwYMTxmR0

I hope you all enjoy this chapter! ❤

#batman #batfam au #batfleck #raven roth #baby au #family au #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #dc #DC AU

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secretlynestaarcheron · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter Three + Four

The Selection Au - Acotar

Tagged: @justgiu12 @blxckbeak @justabunchoffandoms @swagbookmaster @my-fan-side @heyitsrhysand @acourtofmarauders

A/N: Sorry it was up so late I had an impromptu family zoom! :) I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Three: Nesta

As soon as Nesta entered the room she was pushed into a side room where all the other girls were already seated and chatting. She takes the only chair left in the corner next to a short blonde hair girl and a tall, lean, dark skinned girl with long flowy black hair. “Did I miss anything?” she whispers to the dark haired girl.

“No, we were all brought into this room and they haven’t said anything yet,” the dark haired girl says, turning to face Nesta, “I am Rita, caste six.” She says the last part with an eye roll. So she noticed how they branded each of the girls and wouldn’t let them forget where they came from.

“Nice to meet you,” Nesta says, sticking out her hand, “I am Nesta, labeled as a seven, and feeling very out of place.”

Rita shakes her hand, “I think we’ll be good friends, Nesta,” she replies with a smile.

They turn as a tall, lanky woman with long blonde hair clears her throat. “I am Ianthe,” she says, clapping her hands together in excitement, “I’ll be here to help you ladies through all the trials you’ll face throughout the competition. Think of me as a mother hen.”

Rita scoffs and covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. She turns to Nesta with a raised eyebrow as if to say, “Is she serious right now?” A short and plump girl turns in her seat to glare at the two of them, shushing them quietly. Rita puts up her hand in apology.

“We will be taking you girls one by one into that room right over there to have a doctor examination, just to make sure you are in pristine condition!” Ianthe exclaims, twirling to look at all of the girls with excited smiles. Rita looks back at her with wild eyes. Nesta snorted in response, this lady was treating them as if they were show horses.

“But before we begin. I would like to go over some rules with you all,” Ianthe says. Nesta raises an eyebrow. “Firstly, we know that not all of you will get along but if it is shown that you have physically or emotionally harmed another competitor you will be sent home. Second, you will not be allowed to go home or leave the estate. Not until the prince himself has determined you are not a fit to be his wife. From this point forward, you are Prythian property.”

Nesta bit her lip, curling her hands around the chair, they had mentioned that this could go on for months or years. She had always thought that if she determined it wasn’t going to work out that she could leave. She could decide when she wanted to see her sisters again.

“Third, if you are found out to be in a relationship with someone other than the prince, it will be determined Treason and you will be put to death. All ties must be severed and your heart can only belong to the prince, himself.”

Nesta’s eyes widen, Treason. Not that she had a lover at home or was even going to fall madly in love with someone here but to be put to death. It would weigh over all of their heads as they moved forward through the competition.

“And lastly, I recommend that you do what the prince says no matter what he asks upon you,” Ianthe says, a furrow eyebrow as she rubs her hand together. “It would not be in your best interest to say no to the prince.”

Nesta swallows at that, how far did they want them to keep saying yes. She turns to Rita who is looking as puzzled and disgusted as Nesta. Ianthe tells them that they are trapped here until the prince sends them home and then tells them they can not say no.

Ianthe claps her hand, regaining the attention of all the girls, “Are we ready to be examined? Remember, ladies, the future queen is among us! You might be sitting next to her right now!”

The chatter begins again as the girls talk excitedly with one another. One by one being called into the next room to be examined. Nesta turns towards Rita as she says, “One mention of being queen and they all forget that we are prisons.”

There was a darkness behind her words that Nesta wasn’t sure she wanted to find more about but she was alone in this strange world and it would be nice to have a friend to talk to through this mess. Not that Nesta thought she would be staying long enough.

Soon Nesta’s name was called and she made her way across the sea of girls and into the small room. She sat on the bed as the doctor sat across from her. “Lady Nesta, correct?” he asks, peering up at her over a file. She nods in response. “You’re from caste seven?” She nods again. “How has the altitude been treating you? It can be a hard adjustment for anyone below a five.”

She sucks in a breath, “Fine, I think,” she replies with a slight shrug, “I don’t see a difference yet.”

“Come to me if you do, I can give you some medication to help with the headaches and lack of appetite.” He says, making note of something in her file. “You haven’t had proper nutrition since you left the caste four, I’ll prescribe you a multi-vitamin to take every day, It’ll help you gain weight while you are here.”

Nesta became all too aware of how the dress hung from her shoulders. How her collar bones protrude through the dress and the waistline which once clinged to her mother was draped like a paper bag on her body. She wrapped an arm around her waist, self conscious. “Other than that, you seem to be in perfect health. I’ll be here if anything is to occur throughout your stay.”

Nesta can’t help but hear how he says throughout her stay, as if he knew that she wouldn’t be here for long. He knew that she wouldn’t be king. She shakes her head, she was reading too much into the situation. Her subconscious knew that she wasn’t going to be here for long.

“One last question and then you will be free to go,” The doctor says, turning to face her completely and looking up from where he was writing. He extends a piece of paper to her, “Read over it and then sign it when you're done, don’t worry all the ladies have had to sign it.”

She takes it from his extended hand, glancing over the piece of paper, she grips the paper as she reads the words. “It's a contraction to make sure I am a virgin.”

“Of course,” the doctor replies as if it was obvious. “It's against the law as well as the fact that if you were to become pregnant we would want to make sure that it would be the princes.”

Nesta’s mouth drops as she signs the document and hands it to the doctor. All she wanted was to leave the room, leave the castle, and never return. She wanted to be back home being hit on by bar goers rather than here where she was the property of the prince. She wanted to be back home with her sisters trying to talk hush to not wake their dad.

She doesn’t hear anything else the doctor says just has to get out of the room as fast as she can. She thanked him for the time, opening the door back to the sea of girls, the excitement bounced off the walls as Ianthe prepared them for what was to come as soon as they left the room.

Nesta gripped her gown, as they all stared at Ianthe, who was standing in front of the door. Her hand hovering over the handle, toying with the excitement in the room. “Something to remember ladies, you being here even for a week will change you and your families lives forever. You get a stipend for every week you get to be here.”

Nesta felt her eyes bore into hers, it was as if Ianthe knew that she was the lowest caste here. She couldn’t help but feel that Ianthe was bitter that they were all here fighting for the prince. She wondered if there was anything between the two of them before all of this began.

She opened the door and the girls filed out in a single file line. She found herself next to Rita again who gave her a comforting smile. “Ready for the beginning of the rest of your life?” Rita asks, mimicking Ianthe chipper voice.

Nesta chuckles, “More like ready to sign my life away.”

The royal family parades out from across the room, up to the stage, Nesta can’t help but notice the nerves that eased off of the prince. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling, she knew that she wouldn’t be picked and would be able to go home, but he was the one making the decision. The one who would have to marry someone at the end of this all and live this rest of his life with one of these girls.

The king begins his speech but Nesta finds herself staring at the ground. She can feel the girls around her fixing their hair and straightening their dresses as they move up the line closer and closer, one step closer to their first impression with the prince.

She glances up as it gets closer to her time, some girls walked up shyly while others oozed confidence. Some made a show for the cameras while others were solely focused on him. She didn’t envy the position that he was currently in.

“Nesta Archeron, caste seven.”

She moves up the stairs, careful not to trip, before moving across the stage towards him. She stretches her hand out, he looks down at it confused, she falters. Was she not supposed to shake his hand? Was she supposed to give him a hug? She regrets not watching what the other girls did. Before she can take her hand back he places his in hers and gives it a solid shake. “Nesta?” he asks, and she nods her head, “I am glad to have you here.”

She can’t help but smile back as he lets go of her hand and she moves past him and off the stage. She takes her spot next to Rita, who bumps her shoulder, she looks over at her and Rita gives her a wink. “You definitely made an impression,” she retorts.

Nesta chuckles in response, she was fine with making an impression, she didn’t see herself as a queen and definitely did not see herself getting married to Prince Rhysand. Something inside of her knew it wasn’t a fit as soon as their hands touched. She was curious about him, about the sadness behind his eyes and how such a small gesture as shaking hands seems forgein to him.

She glances around the room the first time since entering she notices all the cameras pointed towards the stage. She's glad she didn’t look before, she would have been too nervous by the time it was her turn. She wonders if Elain and Feyre watched her. Of course they did, she would probably have a letter from them in a week's time discussing her hair and how the prince was in person. She wonders if she’ll be allowed to write them at all.

She spots two people standing against the far wall. The guard from earlier who was quick to bolt away from her and a girl who was probably a little taller than Nesta, with golden blonde hair and bright eyes. She talked quickly to the guard with an excited smile. She even got him to laugh a little. She couldn’t imagine the brute from earlier actually laughing, she wouldn’t have pegged him as someone who had emotions like that.

“Thank you all for tuning in tonight to help my family welcome the lovely ladies beside me to the castle. I am as excited as you are to see who my son will pick to rule beside him,” The king announces. “For the next week, the ladies will be joining my wife in the women’s room where they will all begin to learn about the duties a queen will face. With this knowledge they will face many challenges along the way.”

Nesta did not like the sound of that. She didn’t want to face any challenges, especially ones that would include her being televised. She was hoping that the cameras were far enough away that they barely saw her as she met the prince.

As the camera’s shut off and the crew begins tearing down the set, there's a huge wave of relief that goes over the girls. It's like they can actually be normal now, they can just be girls that get to wear pretty dresses and live in a castle. However, the relief doesn’t last long as Prince Rhysand moves down the stairs and towards the girls.

She glances down the line of girls, it was as if they were all holding their breath as he moves down the line, stopping in front of Vanserra. He says something to her as he extends his hand, she bats her eyes before taking it. All the girls, including Nesta, couldn’t help but watch as they left the room.

“Of course he would pick her, she’s insanely gorgeous,” a voice says disappointedly down the line. The girls beside her start chatting with her about what they would do if they were pulled away or they were thinking up what was happening with the two of them.

Rita rolls her eyes, turning towards Nesta, “Wanna head out of here?”

Nesta raises an eyebrow, feeling the first genuine smile appear since being here. “Are we allowed too?” she asks, glancing around the room as the crew continues cleaning up and the girls begin to clump together in small groups to talk.

“Why wouldn’t it? We aren’t leaving the castle without permission, we are simply exploring our new home,” Rita replies, with a slight shrug, “There’s thirty-five girls, they won’t miss us. The real question is what do you want to see.”

Elain would want to see the grounds, all the flowers that were beginning to bloom, the roses bushes that went on for miles. Feyre would want to see the artwork and the kitchens, scarfing down every pastry while admiring the paintings through the halls. All Nesta could think about was the library, she had heard stories of the library, how it held every book published, even ones in different languages. If she was here long enough she’d brush up on her french.

“The library,” Nesta says, turning to her friend with the first surge of excitement. They slipped out of the room, Nesta glancing behind her shoulders to make sure they weren’t being followed by any girls or palace guards. She followed closely next to Rita, “How do you know where the library is?”

Rita gives her a mischievous smile, “I’ve done some exploring, what else were we supposed to do?”

She turns down the hall, stopping in front of large wooden doors, “Ready for your dreams to come true?” Rita murmurs, turning back to smile at Nesta, before pushing the large doors open. There's a creaking noise and Nesta turns down the hall to make sure no one is heard.

“No one is going to yell at us,” Rita says, pulling Nesta into the library, as she pushes the door closed behind them. The only light in the room is the moonlight beaming through the tall windows. “And if they do, we can say we got lost.”

“I don’t think they will believe that,” Nesta says, but her mind is too focused on the rows and rows of books. She reaches out to rub the spines, feeling the thick layer of dust on her fingers, it was a shame that the library wasn’t used more often.

She could spend hours rummaging through the library, probably even days and she would not see the end of it. She knew it would probably take someone a lifetime so read a quarter of the books. She wanted to read them all. “I wonder if they are set up in a certain order, perhaps by publishing year or specific genre.”

“By genre, there is a map in the middle of the room that explains where everything is but I am not sure how up to date it is,” a new voice says as the door opens wider allowing a stream of light to fill a small section in the large room.

Nesta turns quickly, recognizing the shape of the prince, he steps into the room so she can see him fully. She glances over at Rita and then the two books in her hands. She smiles at the prince sheepishly as she says, “Would you believe us if we told you we got lost?”

He laughs, in what she hopes is genuine, as he shakes his head. “No, but I do understand that some of you would be curious and go exploring,” he retorts, watching as she begins to put the books on the shelf. She wasn’t actually going to borrow them, just wanted to find a place to sit and start going through them. “You don’t have to put them away.”

Nesta pauses, glancing over at him, she wasn’t sure if he was being sincere or not. He was a royal, she heard the stories of the King setting people up just for them to fall. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to ruin them,” she replies, it wasn’t a lie.

“Please, I insist. Any of the girls are welcome to take books if they choose too,” Rhysand says, glancing back towards Rita to include her in invitation. “I am afraid that the majority of the books have gone unread, it will be nice to put the collection to use.”

Nesta falters, before adding the book back to the small pile in her hand, “I thank you,” she says, turning towards the prince. “There’s not a lot of books to borrow in my province, most go their whole lives making due with only knowing a few words and sentences.”

“I apologize, which province do you come from again?” He asks, curiously.

She doesn’t feel as if he was judging her, quite the opposite actually, he was the only person so far that she didn’t feel was labeling her. “Seven,” she replies easily, “Most kids start doing factory work or cleaning as soon as they turn thirteen. They don’t have time to learn.”

He nods, rubbing his chin. “I am sorry to hear that, I didn’t realize that was such a struggle.”

She can’t be mad at him or even upset with him, when she was a caste four she had no idea what the caste below her were struggling with. She was just an oblivious thirteen year old that was going to school and then coming back to her nice sized house and a mother that would do anything for her and her sisters.

She had packed the majority of her books when they moved, even grabbing some of her sisters kid books. She took the rule of a teacher for her sisters, she would wake them up early before going to work to teach Feyre to read and stay up late to listen to Elain discuss her botany books.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” she replies, turning to face him and giving him a small smile. “Isn’t that why we're all here? To show our different backgrounds and represent our provinces?”

He chuckles at that, “I can definitely tell that I am going to be learning a lot throughout this experience,” he retorts, glancing behind. “It's getting late and I am told that you’ll have a busy day tomorrow. Can I walk you to your room?”

She nods, exiting the library with three books and a new hope. If the most she could do while here was to bring awareness to the unjust treatment given to the lower castes then she would happily leave when the time came knowing that she did something to hopefully better the community.

Chapter Four: Cassian

Mor chatted on about the women and who she was rooting for, talking about their gowns and their hair. As if that was all it took to win the competition to become Queen. “I think Rhysand taking Venserra was a positive sign,” Mor states as Cassian looks around the room, out of the corner of his eye he sees a swish of red through one of the doors. Unnoticed by all, except him. “Unless, do you think he's sending her home?”

Cassian pauses and turns towards Mor. “Do you really think he would send someone home the night of? Especially Vanserra?” he questions.

She smirks at him, “Especially Vanserra? Do I sense that someone fancies one of the girls?” she says, as he glares at her. They both knew what would happen if either of them connected with one of the girls. He had no interest in risking his life and position for a woman who would take part in such a competition. She pretends not to notice his look, “Besides, for one it would be a total power move and they have history, he already knows that she isn’t compatible.”

He raises an eyebrow at Mor, “And where did you read that? A gossip magazine in france? He’s met her twice before, but I doubt anything has come of it. He's known since he was fourteen that he was destined for the selection.”

Mor humphs at that. “Why don’t you want to guess? There has to be one girl that you think would be perfect for Rhysand,” she inquires with a determined look on her face. Cassian knew that he wouldn’t be able to get away from her unless he gave her an answer.

He pondered over the girls, he wouldn’t be able to probably guess until he knew more about them. Cassian knew that his friend was more into intelligence than good looks, he wanted a partner that would keep him on his toes. Someone that would debate him on topics, to help him see both sides of the dice. He wouldn’t know this until he saw them more, spoke with them, which would be easy with this new assignment from the king.

He pegged a few as just well known women, such as Vanserra, that were only in it for the exposure. He knew that at least half were in it for the chance to be queen but fine with being a three, for the fame, and the money that was waiting for them when they got home. However, he also knew that Vanserra knew politics, he bet the only reason she was here was because of her relations with mayors and councilmen.

“The one in the green dress,” he finally concludes. He knew of her, that her name was Isabel and that she came from caste four, he knew of her father more. He had encountered him on one of the useless missions that the King had sent him on. Her father was harmless and he assumed so was she.

“Which one?” Mor purses, going on her toes to look over where all the girls were chatting together. He wondered how long they would wait here, waiting to see if the prince was coming back to steal them away. “Oh? Really? I think she seems too shy for him.”

He shrugs his shoulder at that, “I guess we will see tomorrow,” he retorts. He glances around the room, the girl in the red dress gone from the group. He glances back towards the exit, rolling his shoulders before turning back towards Mor. “Duty calls. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He moves through the crowd of camera men packing up their gear swiftly for someone of his height and weight, as he exits the room he looks down the hall. He knew he wouldn’t see any sign of her, but perhaps she just stepped out for some air.

The halls were empty and he can’t help but feel disappointed. She treated Rhysand as an equal, he could see the fire in her eyes. He didn’t want that fire to be fueled by the rebels. He moves down the hallway, hearing voices getting fainter and fainter.

He sees the blur of red move again, turning left down the hall towards the library. He frowns, why would she and whoever she was with have to do with the library. “Cassian!”

He glances behind him, stopping when he sees Rhysand walking down the hall towards him. He notices the creaking noise of the library door and then clicks shut. “Have you seen any of the girls? I was hoping to talk to one of them and she disappeared,” he retorts.

Cassian walks along with Rhysand, nodding towards the library door. “I think you’ll find a few in there,” Cassian says. Rhysand smiles in thanks, before moving forward to the door. Cassian moves down the hall, pausing as he watches Rhysand talk with whoever was inside. He didn’t expect any of the girls to attack the prince the first night, not even a rebel would act so quickly if they went to the trouble of getting a girl into the program.

He moves into the darkness of the hallway as a girl appears down the hall. He recognizes her as Rita, the dark skin and purple dress a give away. He hadn’t been able to do too much research on her yet but seeing how her and Nesta Archeron decided to sneak away they would be first on his list. He knew it would most likely be written off and labeled plain curiosity but with the state of the world right now and how the rebels were acting more and more he couldn’t be sure.

She moves down the hallway, the opposite way of her room, as he steps forward to follow her but as soon as he steps into the light Rhysand and Nesta emerge from the library. He pulls back into the shadows as they talk in the hallway. He's too focused on watching Rita’s form disappear down the hall.

The King was clear in the assignment that he did not want Rhysand knowing that Cassian was sent to spy on him as well as all the girls. Nesta and Rhysand move past him, as they pass Cassian notices the books in her hands. He raised an eyebrow, the library was off limits to everyone except the royal family, no one Maybe she was a winning contender.

~*~

He blinks his eyes, rubbing them as they burn, he knew they were red and bloodshot. He hadn’t slept well the night before and he knew that deciding to pull an all nighter wasn’t smart. The King could pull him aside at any moment to ask what he found out, the King would expect him to pull an all-nighter to learn everything about these girls.

He looks at the pile of folders that he pushed to the side of his desk. He was able to get through more than half of the girls, the only bad thing about some of them was that they stole a lipstick when they were younger. Some spent their afternoons doing charity work while others were always looking for the next big thing. He looked over at the two folders left, Rita and Nesta. He knew he needed a clear head to examine their folders thoroughly, they were the only two so far that showed any sign of rebellion against the rules.

There's a knock on the door and then Rhysand peeks his head in, “I thought you’d be here, early morning?” he asks, sitting down in one of the chairs across from him.

Cassian looks around to make sure that none of the folders was showing his true purpose before looking back up at his friend. “More like a long night,” he retorts, running a hand through his hair as he sits back. “What about you? How many ladies did you end up spending time with?”

“Just the two,” Rhysand says, he lets out a sigh as he crosses his leg. “I want to try to meet with all of them after breakfast and send home a few. Then I’ll start one on ones, they need something to talk about during the televised interviews.”

Cassian stares at his friend. “You’re acting like it's a chore,” he retorts.

Rhysand runs a hand through his hair, “It is,” he replies, “It’s exciting but now I need to continue to learn how to run a country while trying to find a wife and also take into consideration thirty-five girls feelings.”

Cassian laughs at that, “Not to mention that you’ll be having your first official date, your first kiss, and-,”

“Okay, okay,” Rhysand says, cutting him off, “I don’t think it needs to be publicized that my parents barely let me talk to girls growing up because I was always going to take part in the selection.”

Cassian can’t help but smile at his friend's misery as he stands up, “Come on, I’ll give you all my tips and tricks while we walk to the dining hall. I am sure all the girls are already there waiting for you.”

Rhysand groans as he follows Cassian out of the room, “What were all those files on your desk?” he asks quizzically.

“Don’t try and change the subject, I’ll teach you how to be a heartbreaker by the end of this,” Cassian says, but Rhysand just gives him a look. “New recruits if you must know, your father has been making me do thorough background checks before anyone can head to training.”

Rhysand nods and Cassian feels horrible for lying to him but he wasn’t sure how Rhysand would react to him looking into the womens background. Cassian pauses outside of the dining room door, “I don’t think you need me to tell you that you’ll make the right decision, but I do,” he retorts, clapping Rhysand on the back.

Rhysand chuckles, “Only took you about twenty years of friendship to be nice to me? Maybe I should have started the selection earlier,” he says.

Cassian rolls his eyes, “Last time I ever give you a pep talk,” he retorts, pushing the door open, “Now go in there and break some hearts.”

Rhysand rolls his eyes, as soon as he walks in the girls stand up in greeting. He waves his hand dismissively and they all sit down again. After they’ve all settled he says, “I am sorry I wasn’t able to talk with more of you last night. If you don’t mind, before we begin I would like to invite each of you one by one up here to join me for a conversation.”

Cassian looks around, the girls beginning to turn to one another to chat excitedly. Rhysand moves forward to grab the first girl on the end and bring her over to the small couches. Cassian looks over the girls faces, going over their names and background.

His eyes stop when he recognizes Nesta Archeron in the far corner, it was as if she put herself somewhere she thought she’d go unnoticed. She was turned away from the girls, her focus solely on the book in her hands as she flipped through the pages. It was one of the books she had borrowed last night, he could make out the faint title, Prythian War.

The girl goes back to her seat and he realizes that he's missed four girls already. Vanserra comes up next, swaying her hips, as she takes the seat beside Rhysand. “I’ve missed you,” she says, leaning forward towards him. Cassian wants to gag as he turns away from them, trying to give Rhysand as much privacy as he can.

He doesn’t hear Rhysands reply, he doubts that Vanserra did either by how she laughs loudly and then looks over at the girls. A couple of them looked envious, their meeting either went poorly or they were nervous for what would happen for their own.

“I would love to see you again soon,” Vanserra says as she stands up and straightens her dress. She turns and walks down the short set of stairs, turning briefly to add, “You know where my room is.”

Cassian looked over at Rhysand with wide eyes, she had crazy written all over her. He chuckles when Rhysand looks away from her and turns to Cassian with a bewildered face. He was used to diplomats and proper ladies, these girls were out to kill.

A few more girls go by, some just as flirty as Vanserra and some more reserved. He catches on to Rhysand extending an invitation to stay after breakfast to some of the girls. He’s not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

The girl sits down, nudging Nesta who looks up from her book. She smiles shyly at the girls around her before setting her book down and making the walk up towards Rhysand. “You look tired,” Rhysand says as she gets close enough. “Is your room not to your liking?”

Cassian mentally faced palms, he really had some work to do to help Rhysand. Nesta chuckles, taking her seat. “No, the room is great. I almost didn’t come for breakfast because I was so comfortable,” Nesta replies, “I stayed up most of the night reading, I got through the History of Prythian and halfway through Prythian War. I can’t wait to write to my sisters about it.”

“You have sisters? How many?” Rhysand asks curiously.

“I have two younger sisters, Elain and Feyre. They would much prefer I write about the art or the garden rather than a history book,” Nesta replies easily. Cassian can’t help but notice how she's just talking with him rather than trying to flirt or get something from him. He couldn’t help but feel suspicious.

“You should write to them, I’ll make sure it gets them by tonight. I think we have a photo book that displays all the art in the palace as well as a copy of all the flowers we have in the garden. I am sure that will please you all,” Rhysand says.

“Really?” Cassian could hear the genuine surprise in her voice. “I am sure they would love that, the books would describe the beauty better than I ever could. I bet by the time I get home I’ll have my own palace garden and art.”

Cassian frowns, she wasn’t expecting to become queen. He wondered if that was because she was disinterested in the prince, only here for a mission, or perhaps didn’t think she would make it far because of her caste.

He gets pulled from his thoughts when they say goodbye. He watches her walk back to her place, picking up the book again, a ghost of a smile on her lips. He can’t help but smile as he turns towards Rhysand with a raised eyebrow.

Rhysand smiles back and Cassian realizes that this is the first time he actually looks like he is enjoying himself. He has a new sense of energy as the rest of the girls file in, only faltering slightly when the last girl moves to her seat.

Rhysand stands, glancing at his father, before addressing the girls. “I appreciate you all for letting me intrude on your breakfast, I hope you enjoyed the food,” Rhysand says, there is a murmur that floods through the girls in approval. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know my mother and Ianthe have plans for you ladies.”

Cassian watches him swallow and then turn to glance at him, Cassian furrows his eyebrow. Rhysand turns back to face the girl, “If I asked you to stay back, please stay seated. The rest of you can follow my mother-,” he gestures towards the queen, who stands up and smiles at the girl. “So you can get started on your day.”

The girls stand up looking at each other confused as they make their way towards the door, Vanserra looks back to give him a small wave. While Rita and another girl gently nudge Nesta in the correct direction as she continues to read, only looking up with bright eyes to share something she read.

As soon as the door shuts, Cassian looks back to the girls in the room. He counted ten of them, as his friend began his “it's not you, it's me” speech. He felt bad, seeing the girls' disappointed faces didn’t help the matter, it was bad enough to break up with one girl but ten? He couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Rhysand, but he was relieved that he would have ten less girls to watch.

Not edited - any feedback would be appreciated, I love hearing from you guys!

A/N: I reread the selection for inspiration and I kept imagine Nesta as America and Rhysand as Maxon and I couldn’t handle itttt, it was weird imagining them in love haha

#the selection au #acotar #acotar au #nesta archeron #cassian #rhysand #acomaf #sjmaas #the selection #nessian #acotar fanficition #nessian au #nesta x cassian #nessian fanfiction #fanfiction #multi-fic

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sonicfanj · 4 years ago

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Sonic Ring Bond - THE EYES OF THE WORLD - Chapter 3

Boy oh boy, I managed to get chapter 3 done in less than a month! Why am I so slow I wonder? Well, all the same chapter 3 is finally here and I hope everyone enjoys. I'm a little worried about this chapter to be honest as there is a certain flaw it has just due to the narrative so I wasn't as motivated to write this one as the first two. I hope that isn't reflected in my writing and that it will be a good time! Thank you everyone and without ado...

Current Status: Done – Open Draft Draft No.: 3 Story Idea: SonicFanJ – Inspired by @cutegirlmayra Main Author: SonicFanJ Secondary Author(s): None Currently Story Expanding Author(s): None Currently Editor(s): None Currently

Chapter Number: 3 Chapter Title: No Control Primary Chapter Author: SonicFanJ Secondary Chapter Author(s): None Currently Chapter Idea: SonicFanJ

Chapter Synopsis: The Guardian Units of Nations, G.U.N, or more collectively known simply as the military has made a play on the life of Rosy to keep her out of Eggman’s hands with no chance of him being able to exploit her for his schemes for world conquest. Eggman, naturally appalled by such savagery, finds himself having to be the hero Rosy most assuredly does not want. But fortunately for Eggman he has a certain ally who believes itself to be her hero. Rosy meanwhile finds herself trying to enjoy her current adventure before she discovers how little control she has.

Typically, the rising sun banishes the night and beauty lost to the eye is returned to the world. Sometimes however the abstract beauty of neon lights is lost, and a brilliant city is reduced to a heap of scrap metal. To some the loss of visibility of Eggman’s impromptu city, more a temporary refinery and factory could never be seen as terrible. Regardless, the mountain of scrap persisted even under the morning sun and within Eggman began his morning.

“Hmngh…,” Eggman grumbled and rubbed his bald head as he sleepily made his way into a large room. Machinery hummed and clanked all around the pajama clad scientist and several robots buzzed about him busily. Retrieving a coffee mug from one and coffee from another Eggman yawned before adjusting his glasses. “Oh ho! What a busy night G.U.N has had!”

The sight of a massive ream of paper spilling out of a machine all night woke Eggman immediately and he spryly danced his egg-like form across the room to collect the mess several of his robots had already been lost in. Dropping it on a table and taking a seat as he drank deeply of his coffee Eggman began perusing the paper. There was a lot of useless information on there as the machine he had designed took all the radio signals it picked up on and converted conversations to print. As Eggman dug deeper growing more annoyed by the amount of frivolity within the military lingo his next gulp of coffee became a spray from his nose. “Wha~t! Those absolute imbeciles! Did they really!”

Several of Eggman’s robots stopped and eyed the doctor wearily while exchanging worried looks. Eggman took no head of them as he put his coffee mug down, taking the ream of paper in both hands with a firm grip dispelling the illusion it was little more than his morning paper. Mumbling away as he read it Eggman finally spoke clearer as he found what he was looking for.

“Permission to engage Checkpoint dreadnaught granted by Checkpoint. Subject Amy Rose deemed too important to allow capture by Eggman. Termination orders issued… TERMINATION ORDERS!”

All around Eggman his machines jumped as he rose to his feet in rage. “I gave those fools everything they needed to capture Sonic’s little girlfriend and put a bow on her for me and they decide to go with termination!” Eggman’s rage was impressive, but it had not completely boiled over yet, and he showed enough restraint to continue reading. “Hmm... let’s see… …target was spotted in company of Miles Prower… …attempted to shoot down before engaging Checkpoint… …forced to board in pursuit… …left remnants of Eggman tech to disguise termination mission… Why those!”

Eggman’s temper was starting to reach its boiling point now and he grew redder in the face, the paper barely resisting his enraged grip. Still, he read on and grew amused, surprisingly.

“…target lost when Ring Gate opened under anomalous circumstances… … and what does that mean I wonder?” Eggman sat back and pondered before continuing to peruse the report. He continued to grumble a bit but there was little more shocking bits of information and G.U.N trying to manipulate Checkpoint did not interest him. Instead he sighed heavily before rising to his feet and taking his coffee mug in hand again.

“Can G.U.N never do anything? Bah! Now I’m left having no idea where the sow is.”

A clinking sound distracted Eggman from his rather verbal complaints and he stopped midstride. The clinking continued and he turned his head to follow the noise and landed his gaze on a massive monitor that showed several maps of several worlds all layered on top of each other. Three lights blinked within and a robotic finger tapped the monitor at one of them. With a sigh he addressed the presented situation.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten about the Gaia Eyes! But G.U.N could very well ruin my backup plan–”

The clinking resumed and Eggman yanked down on his mustache. “Are you actually taking an attitude with me! I created you, and just because you came back on your own again does not give you the right to mock me! You’ve been nothing but trouble since you came back. I out to disassemble you and see what’s gone wrong!” With the threat the clinking stopped and Eggman felt in control again. “Oh of course, you do need to be reminded of your place once in a while.”

Straitening up and stroking his mustache Eggman was about to congratulate himself but the motion the troublesome machine had taken stopped him cold. Glaring at him with red glowing eyes the machine resembled the hedgehog it was modeled after more than ever as it rubbed its nose with a finger. “And when did you pick up that habit from the annoying rodent?”

Naturally, as Metal Sonic was not equipped for speech it did not answer Eggman. Instead with its free hand it pointed a thumb back at the screen and the blinking light it had before. His shoulders slumping in rage and defeat it took Eggman a great deal of self-control not to blow up at his machine.

“I believe I already told you I know but–”

Again, Metal Sonic interrupted Eggman and tapped on the monitor. Eggman had truly lost his temper now and took hold of his mustache again and attempted to beat Metal Sonic to the point by just blurting out his counterpoint. “Amy Rose!”

With chill indifference, Metal Sonic nodded and lowered its finger from its nose. Looking back at the screen, it again tapped at the glowing light and Eggman all at once suddenly understood. He did not believe but he did understand.

“You mean to tell me that she’s there?”

Metal Sonic nodded.

“And how is that possible? I never designed you with such a feature. Just who exactly repaired you so you could come walking back to me for a change?” Eggman’s question received no answer from the silent Metal Sonic, but he did rub his nose again as Eggman’s body language threatened to tear the machine apart to find out. Having no desire to be pulled apart however Metal Sonic tried again to put Eggman’s attention where it needed to be and tapped the monitor.

“You’re being quite insistent for something other than dealing with that troublesome Sonic.”

Again, Metal Sonic nodded but Eggman had calmed down a fair bit, though he still seemed poised to throw a tantrum at the drop of a hat. But there was something he was contemplating already, and an evil grin reveled his teeth ominously. “Of course, if you are right and have gained a useful new ability it could be because of Sonic’s troublesome little Ring Bond. But if we can use it to my advantage…”

Laughter rose up and filled the room as Eggman spun about enthralled by the idea. “Come then Metal Sonic, let’s go test out your potential new ability and see how it works. And while we’re at it I’ll get my hands on the next Gaia Eye and you get to save Sonic’s girlfriend from G.U.N. Won’t she just be delighted? Oh~ hohohohoho!”

-|-

Rosy’s idea of delighted was without question different from Eggman’s but despite the direness of her situation she could not stop herself from smiling as she watched the scenery go by. Sitting in a train car was a far cry from where her night had gone with her, Tails, and Mighty ending up in the middle of the wilderness and finding a place to hide in case the military had managed to follow them. When they had woken with the sun and through Tails’ caution, they had let Rosy’s cards lead them along and soon found a train station. Exchanging all the Rings they had gathered since leaving the Coral Cloud they were granted passage and food on the train. It was as a plate of strawberry pancakes with whipped cream was placed before her that Rosy started to become aware of her situation again.

Lifting her fork up high and looking at the stack of pancakes with twinkling eyes, Rosy could not help but notice that her stomach made more noise than her companions. Lowering her fork pensively she carefully studied Tails who had managed to bring his unusual briefcase with him and was fiddling around in it. He also had Rosy’s tarot cards and he blocked them from view with a tail as his sensed Rosy’s gaze on him.

Rosy could not help but feel disappointed, even if she understood. Still she began to puff up her cheeks as she looked away, but her mouth fell open in concern as she saw Mighty resting his chin in a hand as he gazed out the train window at the passing scenery. Shaking her head, she stabbed her pancakes with her fork and proceeded to sample the confection. Her eyes lit up in amazement and she knew exactly what she could do to try and cheer Mighty up.

“Mighty! You have to try these, they’re delicious!” Smiling brightly Rosy pushed her plate of pancakes towards the armadillo. Seemingly shaken from his thoughts he looked back at the Rosy and then the pancakes and simply said, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Rosy huffed in disappointment. “What does oh mean?”

“Sorry little Rosy,” Mighty apologized and offered Rosy a smile of his own before turning his eyes back beyond the train.

The sight of trees and forested mountain sides seemed to hold Mighty’s attention and a bit of understanding dawned on Rosy. She did not apologize however, not directly at least, as she spoke up again hoping to cheer him up. “Thank you Mighty.”

“Hm? What for?” Mighty could not hide his confusion and looked back at Rosy who smiled now that she had his attention.

“Well for helping me of course! Everyone knows about your love of nature, and yet my troublesome little adventures have had you stuck in airships and now a train. But you know what? The Gaia Eye I was trying to help showed us that amazing mushroom forest so I bet the next one will show us something amazing too. And once we’ve got at least one we should be able to keep them out of Eggman’s hands.”

“I think it’ll be better if we get it to Sonic instead,” Mighty countered as gently as he could, but Rosy still pouted.

“But I’m the one who The Gaia Eye asked for help,” Rosy complained, but she did not really argue. She knew Sonic was better equipped to protect it from Eggman than she was and admitted as much. “But I guess getting it to Sonic would be saving it in a way.”

“It would,” Tails butted in, though he did not take his eyes off his work. “If they’re like the Chaos Emeralds like you said Eggman claimed then Sonic should be able to make a Ring Bind with them and gather them all up. Eggman could never hold onto them then. Hehe, I just wish Sonic would let me study them for a little bit.”

“Tails~!” Rosy whined playfully and received an awkward smile from Tails.

“Hehe. Don’t worry Rosy, I want to, and I don’t want to.”

“Don’t want to?”

Rosy’s curiosity was piqued and she tilted her head inviting Tails to continue. He swished his tails about nervously before glancing up at Mighty. Following Tails’ gaze, Rosy tried to understand the silent conversation between them but Mighty remained still for the most part and Rosy puffed up her cheeks again.

“You two talked about something while I was asleep last night, didn’t you?” Rosy accused them of leaving her out with her question.

“Well there was a lot to talk about, “Tails admitted and felt like the look Rosy gave him was one of hurt. Scrambling he tried to explain himself better. “I mean we just jumped through a Ring Gate, so I had to try and figure out where we were, and it was really amazing! If I was reading the stars right and calculated how far we travelled properly the Ring Gate actually put us right below the Coral Cloud!”

“Eh~! What!” Rosy propped herself up on her arms in surprise at Tail��s exclamation and struggled to understand. “But we were over the middle of the ocean. There wasn’t any land anywhere! I saw that when you took me outside.”

“I did too,” Tails nodded in agreement, “but I think it might explain our world a little bit better and how so many places seemed untouched after Sonic restored the world. If I’m right our world may actually be like a book.”

“A book?”

“That’s right, or maybe like your pancakes,” Tails groped for a better example to explain what he was hypothesizing. Rosy just looked at him confused but offered him her fork when he motioned for it.

Using it as pointer Tails continued. “Well, we’ve always kind of wondered where lands go when they just vanished and assumed all of them turned back into Rings and rejoined the world. And since it’s pretty much impossible to make any really long-term maps and Beacons keep different places connected, I don’t think anyone ever thought about it properly. But after Eggman nearly destroyed the world there shouldn’t have been anywhere old left after Sonic restored it, but once we got the Checkpoint beacons up and running again it turned out there were. So, I bet what most scientist are thinking right now is probably what I am, which is that Ring Gates don’t just take us across the surface,” Tails demonstrated his point sliding the fork across the top of Rosy’s pancakes before thrusting it through them, “ but through it to other dimensions. It’s likely that our world is actually layered like a bunch of dimensions sitting on top of each other, which makes sense if you consider Little Planet appearing only so often and the dimensions that Sonic uses to reach the Chaos Emeralds.”

“So, our world is a lot bigger than any of us can even imagine?” Mighty finally joined in studying the bite of pancakes Tails lifted from the stack.

“Don’t you think that’s amazing Mighty!” Rosy asked before chomping down on the fork and ruining Tails’ demonstration. It seemed fair payback though as the pancakes were hers and she knew Tails had done his best to distract her. It worked too as she had no way of knowing what Tails and Mighty had talked about the night before. But maybe knowing now that the world was even larger Rosy could cheer up Mighty more. With a mouth full of food however she should have held off on trying to follow up her question as there was no way Mighty could understand what she said. He did finally laugh however and that brought a smile to Rosy’s face.

“Yes Rosy, it is amazing,” Mighty managed to talk first as Rosy continued chewing. “To think there is so much more world to see and countless more wonders in nature to discover. It’s an adventure to look forward too!”

“And more peaceful than mine and Rosy’s I bet,” Tails joked joining in on the good mood.

“Our adventures are fun too Tails,” Rosy countered having finally swallowed her food and Tails laughed again.

“They are, but when they put you in danger I start to worry. Eggman is after you and the military has tried to kill you, and even whatever it is that you’re trying to help has hurt you.” The change in tone and atmosphere was unpleasant, but Tails looked at the fork he carried and then Rosy as he presented her a question. “How are your fingertips anyway?”

“They’re–,” Rosy started and had to change from saying ‘fine’ as Tails gave her a stern look, “…kind of sore.”

Rosy did not like giving Tails a reason to worry about her, but he barely let her even touch her cards with her fingertips so they could get an idea of where they needed to go. Still, the cold from her cards hurt and lingered long after she last touched them which was to determine if getting on the train was a good idea. It made Rosy feel that much more awkward as Tails relaxed and looked relieved with her honesty. “I kind of figured as much since you didn’t try to take your fork back yet and weren’t holding it properly to begin with.”

There was no counter to Tails’ statement and Rosy flopped back into her seat defeated.

“This adventure could do to be more fun,” she pouted and Tails laughed at her.

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of fun on this adventure Rosy.”

“I for one have been enjoying the peace,” Mighty chimed in with a laugh of his own before turning his attention back to the scenery. “I’ve been so stressed out that being able to relax for a bit is quite nice. It’d be even better if I could go walk among the trees.”

“Don’t jinx us Mighty,” Tails teased the armadillo. “The way the world is the tracks could disappear out from under us making us have to. I can’t believe someone actually made a train considering.”

“I bet they just wanted realize their dream and wouldn’t let anything stop them,” Rosy spoke up in defense of the train. “And I think that’s wonderful. Pursuing your dream and not letting anyone or anything stop you.”

“It is amazing,” Tails agreed, leaning back and allowing himself to marvel at the engineering and craftsmanship of the train. “I wonder how long our world will let it last?”

The three friends fell silent as they all took in the unlikely experience in their world. Rosy would have indulged herself in her pancakes more but did not feel it would be right to break the silence and ask Tails for her fork back. ‘They’re so good too.’ Rosy would have to go without as they were soon collected by the staff who had no problem requesting the fork from Tails. The shared and peaceful silence would be more uncomfortably interrupted though in due time as a tapping sound drifted over from across the train car.

‘Hm? I wonder what that is?’

Keeping her thoughts to herself so as not to wake Tails who seemed to have fallen asleep, Rosy slid out of the dining car booth as quietly as she could. Mighty had heard the tapping as well, his ears having swiveled back to listen more closely to it, and he saw Rosy get up by her reflection in the window. Turning around he looked at her curiously and she held a finger to her lips to keep him from waking Tails. Motioning with her hand for him to follow, she proceeded to skip away from the booth and froze when she saw the source of the tapping.

“Oh no…!” she breathed in terror as her peaceful train ride came to a very unpleasant end. She would have retreated back to the booth in terror at that moment but Mighty was already behind her and putting a defensive arm around her as he laid eyes on Metal Sonic flying beside the train.

“No Mighty don’t!” Pushing away from Mighty and spinning about to face him Rosy surprised him as she turned pleading eyes onto him. “You know he’s probably here looking for me, and it’s Metal Sonic, he’ll destroy the train to get to me…”

“But–!” Mighty attempted to interrupt Rosy but she shook her head fiercely, her terror obvious. Yet she did not back down and summoned up all her courage as the train came alive with fear as the passengers grew aware of Metal Sonic’s presence.

“There’s no time! Go wake Tails and come get me! I’ll try not to get captured but we can’t let the train and everyone on it be put in danger!”

“Rosy–!” Mighty wanted to talk her out of it but it was already too late. He could have grabbed her as she spun around and yanked down on her eye lid while sticking out her tongue at Metal Sonic, but he understood her concern. The train car was already in a panic and if not for her speed she would have been trapped.

If Rosy could have made use of the speed Sonic had gifted her like he could she surely would be far less terrified of Metal Sonic than she was as she watched him zip ahead while she ran for the door joining the car to the next one ahead. If not for her fear for the wellbeing of the passengers and the train itself, she would have exploited it to double back for the other end, but she knew she had to face it now. Bracing herself to face the worst-case scenario she threw open the door and saw Metal Sonic waiting for her with a finger wag.

“You jerk!” Rosy yelled and attempted her best Spin Dash to get it to move, but Metal Sonic held its ground and the whine of its turbine filled the air as it announced it was ready to take her challenge head on. Rosy challenged it anyway and was fortunate that Metal Sonic overestimated her skill at a Spin Dash and completely missed her as she ended up shooting right past him.

As bad as Rosy was with it she popped out of it and sprang up onto the roof of the next car. She proceeded to turn around long enough to make a face at Metal Sonic again before opening into a full sprint the other way. The train was much too short for her speed to make running its full length anything longer than a matter of seconds, but as she was being as delicate as she could to not damage the train by digging in with each step she compromised her traction and slid about allowing Meal Sonic to set its sights back on her, At least until she slipped right off the side of the train.

“Wah~!” Rosy cried out before curling into a ball and bouncing off the ground beside the train. She uncurled immediately as she heard Tails cry out for her.

“Rosy!”

He had his brief case strapped to his back and offered her a hand as she flew by to try and fly her to safety. To his surprise Rosy shook her head. And started running back the way the train had come.

“That won’t work Tails!” Rosy explained herself as Tails fell into flight beside her. “There’s no way you can fly better then Metal Sonic while holding onto me!”

“But you can’t outrun it either,” Tails pointed out earning a pout from Rosy in return.

“I know, but if the three of us work together maybe we can at least stop him while he’s focusing on me!” Even as she said the words, she noticed that she and Tails had not yet been joined by Mighty and she looked around with a great deal of concern. “Where is Mighty anyway? He doesn’t like to fight unless he has too… he isn’t trying to stop Metal Sonic is he?”

Slamming her feet into the ground together to bring herself to a stop, Rosy looked back at where the train had since disappeared behind her. Tails had to fly back to where she was but didn’t like the absence of Mighty either. “I don’t know.”

“We have to go back for him!” Rosy insisted and had to be stopped by Tails grabbing her wrist. “Tails?”

“We can’t Rosy!” Tails shook his head energetically. “Metal Sonic hasn’t caught up so we need to get away now while we can!”

“But Tails, Mighty doesn’t like to fight,” Rosy pleaded even as Tails started to pull her alongside the tracks. It was too late when she realized that Tails had actually lifted her off of the ground and she could not resist his pull. Slumping she gave up fighting Tails physically but did not give up on Mighty. “I know he has a strong shell and he’s a lot better at this than we are, but wouldn’t it still be better if we helped him?”

“If beating Metal Sonic was our goal, sure,” Tails agreed and allowed Rosy’s eyes to light up for a moment before he dashed her desire to help Mighty, “but you already know keeping you out of Eggman’s hands is our primary goal. Even the Gaia Eyes come after that.”

“So, we have to abandon Mighty?”

“I didn’t say that Rosy. We just need to use the time he buys us to get away.”

Keeping Rosy focused on herself was harder than Tails hoped it would be, but unless Sonic was there for her to fixate on he knew she wouldn’t think of anything other than helping others when they were in trouble from something as obvious as Metal Sonic. ‘Even if Sonic was here it’d still be better if we ran though.’

Tails could not allow himself to stay focused on his worries or how things would be easier with Sonic around. He had to focus on making things easier with Rosy around instead. “There were some other rails a little further back. It looks like some of them might have even gone into the mountains so if we can get to them we can lose Metal Sonic in the mountains and meet back up with Mighty later.”

“How?”

“Because I stayed up last night working on our Personal Beacons so we could can communicate without being tracked,” Tails proudly answered Rosy and held up his arm to revel the wrist mounted communicator every member of Checkpoint had. “We’ll just have to be abstract enough to not give our location away.”

“Okay,” Rosy nodded tentatively buying into Tails plan. “Then put me down so–”

A streak of blue blasting past her and Tails left Rosy stopping mid-sentence. Metal Sonic had caught up to them already and it put the question of Mighty’s wellbeing in question. She and Tails did not have long to linger on Mighty’s fate however as they needed to be prepared to evade Metal Sonic, but a series of explosions distracted them from even that.

“What?” Rosy and Tails asked in unison as they came to a stop to dodge scrap metal falling from the sky before them. A moment later Metal Sonic landed and glared in their direction. Tails immediately stepped defensively in front of Rosy and spread his arms out wide.

“D-d-don’t think I’m afraid you! We’ve bested you before you know!”

Placing a hand on its hip, Metal Sonic stuck the pinky finger of its free hand into its ear and scratched around. The motion was unsettling as it was as though Sonic himself was mocking them and Rosy could not stand that and leaned past Tails and shouted at him. “You can’t do that! Sonic would never mock us! We’re his friends and if you’re supposed to be based on Sonic then you shouldn’t either!”

“Rosy, I don’t think he cares,” Tails laughed nervously as he glanced back at Rosy with just his eyes. Yet Tails seemed to be wrong as Metal Sonic pulled its finger free from its ear.

“Look Tails, he listened…,” Rosy began to try and counter Tails, but trailed off as Metal Sonic made a fist with its hand and pointed back at the sky above and behind it with a thumb.

Following the gesture Rosy spotted the brass airships of the military and swallowed loudly. Tails could not ignore Rosy’s gulp and Rosy tried her best to keep the situation light as she felt the change in atmosphere come over him. “Ooh~! Why can’t this just be a fun adventure?”

“That would be nice, huh,” Tails agreed appreciating her effort, but he was not sure what to do. With Metal Sonic before them the military seemed insignificant. Unfortunately, the military was prone to extreme overreaction and a volley of cannon fire burst forth from the air ships forcing Tails to gulp too.

Metal Sonic seemed unimpressed and only delayed from acting for a moment as it lowered its fist long enough to rub its nose with a finger before springing into action. It was a sight to behold as Eggman’s greatest creation ascended the falling volley of artillery fire and headed straight for the military airships that launched it. The view was lost though as the volley crashed destructively into the ground around Tails and Rosy. Yet even in the destruction that she failed to realize missed her, Tails had to hold Rosy back as she moved to chase after Metal Sonic.

“What are you doing Rosy? We need to run!”

“But Tails, the soldiers!” Rosy argued as Tails did his best to keep her from moving.

“They’re people! We can’t leave them to face Metal Sonic alone!”

“Rosy they just tried to kill us!” Tails attempted to get through to Rosy

“But Tails!”

“Might I suggest that we move and give both parties no reason to stay here?”

“Mighty!” Tails and Rosy both exclaimed as the armadillo’s voice came out of the dust cloud in front them. Stepping forward and out of the dust to reveal that he had been shielding them with his shell he offered the two junior adventurers a smile. But only for a moment as his expression grew grim.

“I’m afraid it looks like you were right Tails.” There was a very uncomfortable air about Mighty as he spoke, and his next sentence sent a chill down Rosy’s spine. “The military never intended to take Rosy into protective custody.

“What?” Rosy barely managed to squeak out the question.

“What the armadillo means Ms. Rose, is that from the start G.U.N had every intention of killing you.”

The answer came from above joined by an unpleasantly familiar and obnoxious laugh. Descended from above seated in his Egg Mobile was none other than Doctor Eggman himself. His feet propped up on the control console with his fingers laced together he appeared the embodiment of in control as his wide toothy grin greeted the trio.

“Eggman! How did you find us!” Tails demanded to know as he prepared for a fight.

“Come now fox boy,” I doubt you were just out here running from the military,” mocked Eggman with a chuckle. “Surely you’ve heard of the Gaia Eyes by now from Ms. Rose.”

“No!” Rosy let out a cry as she saw Eggman hold up a new Gaia Eye, this one orange in hue.

“But of course Ms. Rose, Oh~ hohohohoho!” Eggman laughed gleeful, punctuated by a chorus of explosions in the distance marking Metal Sonic’s destruction of the armaments of the military airships. With his massive grin growing even more massive Eggman continued. “Did you really think to stop me without getting that annoying blue pincushion in the way? Speaking of which… Metal Sonic!”

In a flash of blue, Metal Sonic returned from its battle, but not to Eggman’s side.

“AAH~!” Rosy yelped in pain as Metal Sonic snatched her arm and twisted behind her and into the small of her back. “Let me go! That hurts!”

“You heard her!” Tails didn’t waste a second moving to confront Metal Sonic and was met immediately with a wall of darkness as a black globe of energy spread out from Metal Sonic. “This is…?!”

Tails and Rosy lost the ability to resist and fight back as the black sphere sapped them of their strength knocking the handful of Rings they had collected since fleeing the train free of their persons. They were not casually lost as Rings tended to be as Metal Sonic collected them as it withdrew the sphere back into itself.

“Oh ho!” exclaimed Eggman as he sat up and leaned over to watch the new ability in action. “That one seems quite useful. Though you seemed to have missed our good friend Mighty.”

Having jumped back, Mighty had stayed clear of the attack, and thus still had his strength and wits about him. The look Metal Sonic gave him as Rosy slumped from the loss of strength made him both uneasy and angry. “If we were friends Eggman you wouldn’t be hurting them.”

“OH~ HOHOHOHOHO! Hurting them? Really?” Eggman guffawed at Mighty’s claim. “Could you be more wrong I wonder. Why if not for me, your glorious savior and will be ruler, G.U.N would have blasted you to smithereens without a second thought.”

“If not for you, we wouldn’t be on the run at all!” Tails barked as he seemed to recover from Metal Sonic’s attack.

“Come now fox boy, you can’t tell me my little experiment hasn’t caught your eye. I’m sure you’ve already run tests of your own to determine the effects of my genius on Ms. Rose, and I would love to see your notes.” Though he coaxed Tails to speak with him as a fellow scientist, Eggman’s tone was purely condescending.

“Leave him alone,” Rosy defended Tails, growing angry as her strength returned. Her position was not as fortunate though and to keep her shoulder from hurting she attempted to stand up and lean back into Metal Sonic. She did not want to, but the pain in her shoulder demanded she do something. Metal Sonic did not make it easy on her either as it attempted to keep its distance making her that much more uncomfortable. “Stop moving you jerk! Just let me go already.

“Ahem,” Eggman cleared his throat to make sure Rosy remembered whose presence it was she was in. Hearing Eggman’s voice directed at her she glowered at him as she puffed up her cheeks. It was a hollow threat with her helpless in Metal Sonic’s grip and Eggman chuckled in response. “I don’t understand why you keep struggling so much Ms. Rose–”

“It’s Rosy!”

“–when I have so many good things waiting for you,” Eggman continued, ignoring Rosy’s interruption.

“I don’t want anything you want to give me!” Rosy feistily refused.

“But you haven’t even heard me out yet,” Eggman practically whimpered. It was obvious that he really wanted to boast, but Tails was not having any of it either.

“Well she doesn’t want to hear it, so get lost Eggman!” With the intention of serving as a distraction so Rosy could escape, Tails curled into a ball and hurled himself at Eggman. Eggman was far from unprepared however and several mosquito robots dove down from the sky putting an immediate stop to Tails’ attempt.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eggman smiled mockingly as Tails crashed back to the ground.

“Tails!” Though she wanted to get to him she could not break Metal Sonic’s grip and merely struggled helplessly reaching for Tails with her friend hand. Turning teary eyes of anger back on Metal Sonic she noticed that Mighty still had not advanced. Eggman picking back up behind her, obviously boosted by knocking Tails down only reinforced the danger she had exposed the other’s too.

“You see, Ms. Rose, this is why you should turn to me in times like this,” Eggman sneered boastfully. “G.U.N wants you dead because you have quite the bit of value to me, and your friends are helpless. But I can promise you a perfect robotic shell that you’ll be perfectly safe within. You won’t have to worry about G.U.N as you know they’re helpless against my genius and if you want to spend eternity with that annoying rodent, I have a far superior version right here who has already saved you once today.”

Listening to Eggman was not what Rosy wanted to do, and she mostly ignored him as she increased her struggles to break out of Metal Sonic’s grip. The robot perhaps was irritated by the whole affair and took to scratching around inside its ear with the pinky finger of its free hand for a moment. As Eggman’s little monologue neared its end and it seemed likely that the order to head back to base was coming, Rosy’s struggles grew that much more intense. Not wanting to deal with her antics Metal Sonic pulled its finger from its ear and placed its hand on Rosy’s head.

“Eep!” Rosy squeaked terrified for a moment, but immediately grew confused as the machine ruffled her quills in a way she had not felt for some time. Yet time would never make her forget that sensation. If anything, the robotic hand that performed the motion should have dispelled the illusion, but that did not matter either. It was identical.

Her eyes softening under that sensation, and her struggles ceasing completely, Rosy looked back as best she could from under Metal Sonic’s cold robotic hand. The machine’s glowing red eyes looked back at her and were unprepared entirely for the question she uttered.

“Sonic?”

That single word, uttered with the utmost desire to know if it was indeed her hero who attempted to sooth her seemed to break Metal Sonic. Releasing Rosy’s, arm it took an unsteady step backward and Rosy looked at it with as much curiosity as the confusion it was experiencing its programing struggled to overcome. Eggman took note of the problem and leaned forward in the Egg Mobile, causing the whole vehicle to tilt forward. “Hrm?” Eggman’s curious grunt was far too mild a reaction and Mighty demonstrated that he too had been gifted with Sonic’s speed. “Rosy!”

Mighty’s shout shook Rosy from her daze and she remembered Tails instantly. Before she could even turn though Mighty snagged her and had her under his arm like a sack of flower.

“Not this time you blasted armadillo!” Eggman growled as he flicked a switch and missile ports opened along the sides of the Egg Mobile. Micro missiles swarmed out of the vehicle and Rosy could not stop herself from screaming and covering her eyes as Mighty ran right through them.

“Sorry about this, Rosy, but it’s about to get a little rough,” Mighty apologized as Eggman’s missiles tore up the ground in a series of rapidly increasing explosions. Shielding himself and Rosy as best he could with his shell as he ran through, Mighty risked his biggest gamble and revealed he had gathered enough Rings since he was separated from Tails and Rosy to make a Ring Gate. Pulling the condensed Ring out in the middle of Eggman’s barrage surely risked him losing it, but he had not spent the time gathering the Rings for nothing and threw it out in front of him just past where Tails still lay.

“No! No! No! NO NO! NO~~~!!!” Eggman screamed as Metal Sonic had yet to recover from its confusion and his barrage of missiles failed to stop Mighty from grabbing Tails and escaping through the Ring Gate just as it vanished.

There was a long moment of silence after the last missile detonated and Eggman’s mustache drooped heavily as he kept his hands on the controls. Eventually he sighed and conceded the mistake was his. “I should have known better considering I didn’t repair you personally.”

Piloting the Egg Mobile over to where Metal Sonic seemed to be still trying to sort out the conflict within its programming, taking to tapping the side of its head with the base of a hand, Eggman scowled as he looked at his creation. “I don’t know who repaired you, but I can assure you they’ll know my full wrath when I get my hands on them. No one has the right to tamper with my beautiful creations! Oh~ hohohohoho!” Eggman’s chilling laughter seemed to finally fix Metal Sonic and the robot rubbed its nose with a finger as Eggman’s tone became much more sinister. “But don’t you worry Metal Sonic, I’ll be sure to thank them for granting you the ability to track Ms. Rose. Sending you out in pursuit of her once I know what’s gone wrong will let me figure out where the last two Gaia eyes are, and then I can join you with a full batch of my little formula to make sure she doesn’t escape us again!

“OH~ HOHOHOHOHO~!”

RAILROAD RETREAT CLEARED Chapter 3 – No Control, End

-----

And there's chapter 3! I hope everyone enjoyed, and please forgive me for the parallels with chapter 1. This should be the only time it happens, and I needed to do it for certain plot points to be put into motion. I'll definitely be more original going forward, so please look forward to chapter 4. Thank you everyone! And in the meantime, feel free to stop by the Sonic Ring Bond Discord server - https://discord.gg/aVjNUyG - to talk about the AU!

#sonic the hedgehog #doctor eggman #miles tails prower #mighty the armadillo #classic amy #amy rose #rosy the rascal #my redesign #Metal Sonic #sonic ring bond #sonic au #my au #my writing #ring bond literature

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thedistantstorm · 5 years ago

Text

Tribute: A Kalluzeb Story (pt 2)

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Pairings: Kallus/Zeb (kalluzeb)

Chapter: 2 of 3?? (still TBD, apparently I have a lot to say...)

AO3 Link Here

Summary: Zeb works on a gift for Kallus, to replace something he’s lost. It’s a gateway to a conversation Zeb wants to have in the future, but there’s something a bit more urgent they need to talk about first.

Notes: Thank y’all so so much for your lovely comments and likes and reblogs, they seriously make my day. All you kalluzebs out there are the nicest freakin’ people I’ve encountered in fandom and I’m having such a ball writing these two for us. Not to mention getting to explore Hera’s relationship with them is something I’ve wanted to do for a hot minute now, so please excuse my self-indulgent hurt/comfort.

<< Previously // Next >>

Kallus enters the grounded Ghost to a beeping, ornery droid and the sound of the exhaust fans roaring. It's just shy of daybreak, and Yavin 4 is alight with parchment colored skies and fog that creeps silently through the trees. The temperature is cool at this hour, good for working outdoors. The morning shifts here start early.

He catches the faintest hint of lacquer, some protective finish he doesn't entirely recognize. It's stronger outside than inside the Ghost, and it only takes a quick glance around to understand why. Something had been on the crates sprawled across the cargo bay, the ones that became tables for anyone who ate away from the mess hall or seating that they'd drag outside for an impromptu fireside debrief in the dark of the night, since the smoke keeps bugs away. Whatever it was, it's not there now, though he does see his suspected culprit.

"Garazeb," He says, careful not to speak too loud. It's still early, and his voice has a tendency to carry. Off to the side, he sees Hera curled up on an old weapons crate. He isn't sure how long she's been there, but she'll likely be sore. He rounds a makeshift worktable to see Zeb sitting on the floor beside her, slumped over on himself, chin lurching closer to his knees before he tries unconsciously to right himself.

Chopper quietly rearranges some of the crates to help Kallus, commenting that they're his problem now. Somehow, he doubts that very much, but he knows better than to argue with this particular droid, regardless of his opinion.

Judging by the way Zeb's sitting, angled with one shoulder against the crate Hera's using as a bed, there's a good chance he'd attempted to wake her, and in his attempts not to frighten her, fallen asleep himself. Orrelios was a good liar, and bags didn't show under his eyes. Still, Kallus knew Zeb wasn't sleeping well.

He crouches and places one hand on both their shoulders. Zeb only seems to relax further, clearly recognizing him by touch or maybe smell, his senses are far keener than a human's. Hera's chuckle is thick and sleep-laiden, but she blinks her eyes open at him.

"Looks like we've been caught," She grumbles without malice, nudging Zeb in the back with her boot. He jerks awake immediately, only for Kallus to change his hold on the Lasat's shoulder to a palm on his cheek, preventing him from bashing their heads together. "I thought you were going to carry me to bed," Hera accuses.

"Yer the one who said 'five more minutes, I'm finally comfy,'" He mouths back, tilting his head away from Kallus's hand to look at Hera, "If he's here to yell at us, it's on you."

Hera rolls her eyes. "I don't think he's here to yell. I think he's going to send us to bed."

"Bwah, buabahba bah!" Unconcerned about his volume, Chopper insists that somebody should. Whether he means that in regards to yelling or sending them to bed, it's anyone's guess.

"General," Kallus holds his arms out, indicative that he will be the one to lift her, seeing as Zeb's eyes are already drooping again.

"He-ra," She reminds him with a firm poke to the chest. He hums something agreeable, though he doesn't bother to oblige her by calling her only her given name. He's coming off a week-long mission. It's hard to switch off the work part of his brain, though it gets easier all the time.

"Draven pushed back our debrief to noon. Should give us all a decent lie in," He looks down to Zeb, already snoring.

"Great," She exhales, as Kallus scoops her up. He turns them sideways to navigate the doorway. Wryly, she asks, "You gonna carry him to bed too?"

This time, he does drop the formalities. "Hera," He warns, voice low. He's too in control to let a blush cross his face, but his lips quirk uncomfortably.

She looks up at him, as if transitioning from asleep to fully awake with a single blink. Realizing she's made him uncomfortable, she says, "You can put me down."

"Is that an order?"

She sighs. They treat her like glass, and it's annoying. "I can walk by myself."

"I suppose you can, but," He looks away. He's an eloquent man, but the lack of required restraint (no matter how many times they encourage him to say what's on his mind, to be human, imperfect), always makes him hesitate.

She smiles, just a little, and yields, "To be honest, my foot's asleep."

"Ah. Best if we proceed as is," He says aloud. It's a weak excuse and a blatant lie, but he doesn't question it.

"He didn't leave his work out, did he?"

"It did not appear so, no," Kallus whispers. To speak any louder in the silent ship would be like yelling. Chopper is already waiting for her, her cabin doors thrown open. "If you wouldn't mind, Chopper-" He begins.

The droid runs into his good leg, though not hard enough to hurt, and begins fussing over Hera as he lays her in her bunk. He catches a salute as he steps back. That means Chopper heard about the rescheduled debrief, and that he's grateful enough to come get him later, should he oversleep.

It hasn't happened yet, but one of these days, it might. Kallus is exhausted. He still has another sentient to drag off to bed, and despite Hera's quips, he very much doubts he could carry Zeb the same way. All things considered, it would be an uncomfortable, logistical nightmare, even though he'd likely be capable of the actual lifting.

He makes it back to the hold and pauses, taking the scene in for just a moment. If his heart clenches with something fond and he watches his fellow rebel breathe deep and slow for more time than necessary, no one will know. He steps over the threshold, footsteps light across the durasteel.

"Garazeb," He calls, reluctant to disturb him. Once he's close enough, he leans down to put a hand on his shoulder, shaking. "You shouldn't sleep here."

Whatever the reply is, it's muddled and incoherent. Kallus exhales. He knows if he sits down on this crate, he'll fall asleep on it like Hera, and it certainly won't reduce the kink Zeb's going to have in his neck from twisting himself to use the crate as a pillow.

"That cannot be comfortable," He comments with mirth.

"Wha?" Zeb's eyes are unfocused, and it takes him a second to focus on Kallus. "Hera?"

"Tucked in. Come along, Garazeb."

Zeb shuffles to his feet, Kallus close enough to steady him. "Mission go okay?"

"Yes," He breathes. He's alive, so he counts it as a victory. His identity as Fulcrum may have been compromised, but he still has a bit of a wide reach, and now, a potential successor, but Zeb won't retain any of it, so he doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he asks, "Have you finished your project?"

"Mmm," Zeb agrees muzzily.

Their journey through the vessel takes longer than it had for him to whisk Hera back to her bunk, but Kallus is happy to help the larger man stumble along. In the weeks since returning from Lothal, he’s found Hera, but more frequently, Zeb, asleep in a myriad of strange places.

Grief is… tricky. Kallus cannot say he does not wade through his own on a near-daily basis, but he feels like this is something he can do, something valuable and worthwhile. He will see Zeb and Hera through this. He’ll check on Sabine through cryptic messages and make sure Chopper does not fry his circuits keeping tabs on their remaining crew. He’d have done it even if he didn’t know Kanan or Ezra personally, even if he hadn’t felt indebted to them. When he’d realized it, it felt like a weight he hadn’t registered shaking itself loose. It was something he wanted to do for those who remained, because he cares for them. Not that the dead or the lost do not matter; He thinks of them often. Jarrus’s steadfast calm, his otherworldly compassion and understanding. Ezra’s unyielding hope, his fierce resolve, and his courage. For someone so young to have made the decisions he had, to carry on despite everything pitted against him… well, Kallus can admit to himself that he could only aspire to be that strong.

The door to their shared room opens. That is a recent development, but Kallus is a nomad amid the Rebel base, with scarce few belongings, all of which (sans spare clothes, which are standard issue) are carried on his person. He holds a hand out to spot Zeb as he takes the boost of the small but sturdy ladder to the top bunk. The Lasat had been sleeping there ever since…

Well, Kallus had reasoned, at the time, Ezra did say it was his again…

“Got someth’n t’show ya, later,” Zeb murmurs, voice almost a rumble.

Kallus can’t help himself, reaching a hand out to cup one side of Zeb’s face. The two of them are quite the pair. War-torn and jagged, sometimes barely holding themselves together. They’ve lived through enough to know that there’s only so much they can hold back. To the rest of the galaxy, of course, there isn’t much that would make them seem less rigid or frightening, certainly nothing that could make either of them less dangerous adversaries. But to each other, to a comrade who understands, to a friend who walks a similar path…

Zeb presses his face into Kallus’s palm, the fine fur there soft and velveteen against calloused skin. “I’ll come for you after my debrief,” Kallus promises, endeavoring not to wake him later when he rises to meet Draven with Hera. “Get some sleep.”

Yellow-green eyes open for just a moment, something warm and unspoken in their depths. A large, four-digit hand covers Kallus’s, squeezes his fingers tightly when he begins to pull away. “You too.”

Once their hands separate, Kallus discards his jacket and belt, toes off his boots. He hears Chopper heading down the hall towards their room, sees the door crack a few centimeters in the center as the droid checks on them. He dips his head in a nod and Chopper retreats. He turns off the lights and takes the three short steps across the room to his bunk. Zeb is already snoring softly, the sound infinitely soothing to the ex-ISB agent. By the time his head touches Zeb’s old pillow, Kallus is already asleep.

#kalluzeb #zeb x kallus #garazeb orrelios #alexsandr kallus #star wars rebels #swr fanfiction #sw rebels fanfiction #which tag do i use? idk all of them??#my writing #sw fanfiction #rebels remembered #rebelsremembered 2020

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dawnrider · 5 years ago

Note

All 30 of the writer ask :) ♡

HOOOOEY, @hnnwnchstr So I’m going to cut out the ones I’ve already been asked and the ones that are asks for specific fics.

1. What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

Inuyasha, InuKag. Followed closely by (Vision of) Escaflowne, Van/Hitomi

2. Do you participate in any writing events or challenges throughout the year? If so, what do you like about them?

I did Inuvember last year, which was the first time I’d participated in anything like that. It was good for me to get over some of my anxiety about posting new story ideas. I also participated in the impromptu Valentine’s Day “event” and then the more organized Inuyasha White Day earlier this year which we had a lot of fun with!

3. Do you write fics from start or finish, or jump around?

Definitely jump around. It’s a curse for finishing plots, but it does help keep me from getting really really stuck.

4. Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?

Almost never? I did a bit for Masquerade, the Inuparents side story, but mostly to make sure I didn’t forget anything and to keep it within the plotline of what I’d already written for Your Lying Smile.

5. What is the perfect environment for you to write in?

Coffee Shop, hands down. But I rarely get to do that, so often the next best thing is a comfy couch spot in my house. I really need a better armchair...

6. If you’re really concentrating, how many words can you write in a day?

UHHH. I don’t really keep track of that very well. I tried one of those apps that tracks it, but it was hard when I typically have multiple story tabs open at the same time. But I think in one day, my top was like… 5000 words, give or take? Recently. Back before Grad School and kiddo, I probably did more in a day than that over multiple stories.

7. Which part of writing do you struggle with most?

Drawing out the plot. My plotlines are always too short and not… complicated enough, for lack of a better word. It’s something I’m working on.

8. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, share a song that’s been inspiring you lately.

Sometimes. I have a Spotify list of “liked” songs that range from punk to R&B to alternative to pop. I don’t have any specific story for it yet, but Sara Bareilles’ Once Upon Another Time has been haunting me lately.

9. Do you prefer to write AUs, canon divergence, or canon-compliant fic?

Based on my Drive folders, I’mma say AUs (43+ is hard to argue with), but Canon-Divergent is probably next in line.

10. Do you enjoy writing dialogue, exposition, or plot the most?

Exposition. My writing is pretty description heavy with dialogue sprinkled in.

13. Is there a trope you wouldn’t write if it was the last trope on earth?

Darkfic. I can’t not have them have a happy ending in some capacity. It might be a little bittersweet (some of you probably know the fic I’m thinking of) but ultimately they end up together and happy.

14. If you were stuck on a desert island with only two characters, which would you pick?

Specifically from Inuyasha? Inuyasha and Sango, because Sango would come up with a plan to get us off the island and Inuyasha would make it happen. Also Shirtless!Inu...

16. What is your most underrated fic?

This is a weird question. Anyway, um… I guess To Sleep Perchance to Dream? I haven’t updated it in a while so I think it’s fallen off people’s radar.

17. What fic are you most proud of?

Return to Me, I think? Short as it is, I think I accomplished what I set out to do in that storyline.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

Oh Lort… Too many stories to sift through… Most recently, a scene between Izayoi and an OC in the upcoming chapter for YLS: Masquerade. She’s understandably distraught from her ordeal and she’s trying to buck up because she knows crying won’t help anything. But the OC, one of the other women who was taken, comforts her and reminds her that it’s alright to lean on others sometimes. I like the tenderness of a woman being a shelter and a rock for another woman, even who don’t know one another well, instead of it being that a man comforts her.

19. Who is the easiest/hardest character for you to write about? Why?

Easiest: Inuyasha. Aside from the fact that I feel like I’ve gotten his speech patterns down decently well… I identify with him in a lot of ways.

Hardest: Erm… Miroku? I have a hard time pinning down the intelligent grifter/perv/thoughtful monk balance. In my AUs I tend to make him some other field rather than have him be a monk because in a different context, I doubt that would have been his path. Scholar, doctor, advisor, professor/teacher… Those make sense for him to me.

21. What is the one fic that got away?

I’m assuming this means one that I meant to write but didn’t… But that’s not really my thing. LOL. I keep all the WIPs. I may not keep writing all of them, but I keep them all in my “pocket” for a rainy day.

22. Have you cried while writing a fic?

Yes. Not much, I’m not much of a crier, but I got teary writing Inuyasha’s fear/pain/regret in Given and the mutually angsty scene in Underlying Truth.

23. If you had to remix one of your own fics, which would it be and how would you remix it?

Given is actually a remix of an earlier fic I called A Demon’s kiss which started with the same premise, but focused more on them talking out their feelings and without quite the depth of emotion. But for something I’ve posted and needs a reboot, it would be A Silent Affair. I need to rewrite huge swaths of the interpersonal interactions, particularly between Inuyasha and Kagome.

30. Tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future.

I mean, LONG is not really my forte (see aforementioned issues with plot development), but I have shared little bits of my post “apocalypse” fic Gone and my other space fic Caged Bird which could be longer. I also have the Farscape AU which I haven’t officially named… still… But that will be more episodic than plot driven.

#hnnwnchstr #I DID IT #That's all of em

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brownskinsugarplum76 · 5 years ago

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Deceiving Looks, Pt 3

Here's the next chapter of this story. Part 1 and Part 2 are at the links.

Lots of flirting, some touching, some wild thoughts. NSFW. Full smut in the next part. ❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Josephine opens the door when Robert knocks. “Right on time. Not bad for a young man who doesn’t own a watch,” she says demurely. “Come on in.”

Robert nods, enters, and looks around. The blackout curtains are drawn to keep out the brilliant sunrise, and the lights have been dimmed. The perfume that he smelled on Josephine at the door lingers in the air inside her suite. Despite the soft lighting, Robert can plainly see every curve of his new acquaintance’s body, as her belted satin kimono clings to her frame.

His heart is racing. He still feels bad about how he looks, but the feeling of lust surging in his body informs him that he is, nevertheless, getting to familiar ground.

“I didn’t wish you a proper good morning earlier,” he says. He brushes her lips with his tentatively, then with more passion. His hands migrate to cradle her back. Slowly everything starts to feel right. Normal.

She shudders as he unties her robe, removes it from her shoulders, and warms her skin with his hands.

He takes in the sight of her black lace teddy and can't let the vision go. Josephine is not a catalog model cutie pie or college coed; she's a full, live, grown woman. With a career, it seems. He imagines she spends her days reading and writing memos, taking careful notes at meetings and asking demanding questions, and taking her heels off and curling up on the couch with a book at the end of the day. For all her inner strength, he imagines she would appreciate a man who would cut through all the bullshit--work politics, bills, escrow payments, whatever else would be a typical problem for someone like her--and pin her down in the present moment with thrust after searing thrust of his cock. He knows he can be that man for her, age difference be damned. He smiles and hopes the experience he's racked up lately will meet up with what she has acquired over a lifetime.

“That smile… Mmmm… I could tell you’d be a young man who knows what he wants… Do you like what you see?” She murmurs, slipping out of his grasp, walking to the doorway of the bedroom, and giving a twirl for his viewing.

“No.”

Before she can control her sense of shock, Robert crosses the room and whispers in her ear: “I love it.” He surprises himself with this impromptu gambit of seduction. She beckons him with the wiggle of a finger, and when he stoops to her, she cups his face and kisses him deeply.

Both of them smile, taking in the moment that has passed. A bond is brewing between them. It pulses with light and heat and seems to be taking on a life of its own rapidly.

“You should’ve seen me earlier, when I didn’t look so...uh...lived-in… Could I use your shower? I didn’t have enough time, and--”

“Absolutely. No need to explain. This way.” She places a hand on his arm and ushers him to the bathroom. "I'll be back."

“You don’t want to keep me company?” Robert’s voice is innocent, but the dare of his eyes and his crooked smirk indicate indecent intentions. He wants to make her swoon. He wants to reveal himself to her in a way that makes it feel like she’s savoring a glass of her favorite wine before a memorable dinner. Then, for the main event, he imagines feeling her skin against his, feeling her warm breath in his face with each thrust of his sex, hearing her scream his name, hearing himself scream hers. It's helping him to feel more like his usual charismatic, horny self, no matter how different she might be from his usual lovers.

She laughs, closes the toilet, and sits on the lid. "Are you putting on a show for me, Robert?"

"That's what they pay me for most nights, though it hasn't been for an audience of one yet."

"Well, then, I'm glad to be your first time, dear." She crosses her legs. She watches him turn on the water.

“There are very few firsts left for me nowadays, I’m afraid. But yes, you will be taking one from me tonight.” He eyes her for a little too long before he turns to check the shower temperature one last time and starts to remove his shirt.

“Well, this isn’t much of a show… You’re not facing the audience! You can’t see me right now, but I’m pouting.”

“What was I thinking… What a silly lad I am…” He turns to face Josephine and peels off his shirt, as slowly as one can remove an already unbuttoned shirt. “Better?” He drops his shirt to the floor and puts his hands on his hips.

“A fine start, Robert! Bravo.” Her eyes linger on the path from his strong jawline down his neck, to his chest, which is barely covered with fuzz.

He yanks his belt from the loops on his jeans. He swats her exposed thigh with the leather, bringing the belt to rest on her lap. He figures a grand gesture is in order. It seems to be what she enjoys, throwing him off balance and then being surprised when he does it to her.

“Hmm… Do you like to be in control, Robert?” she asks with a quizzical expression, but the smile that soon blossoms reveals her attempt to probe his naughty side.

“Do you, ma'am?” He grins and searches her eyes. With her full attention, he unbuttons and removes his jeans.

Her eyes flicker wildly for a second at the sight of his naked body and stiffening cock, and her breath hitches.

She takes in every nuance of his exposed skin and its underlying musculature. With her eyes she worships the way he was knitted together by nature, her gaze an offering to his unparalleled masculinity. Her smile is as unforced as it is hungry.

Her composure returns in the next beat, but not her witty words. For now.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of snakes, Miss Josephine…”

"I've never met one I didn't like. And yours, Robert… Yours, sweet Robert, is no exception. You've got my undivided attention, in fact…" She beckons him closer. She lifts his cock, examines the shifted hood of skin that has revealed a smooth, large, symmetrical head, traces the vein that courses down his length, notices the darkness of the hair at his crotch being out of sorts with the summer waves that flow from his head. "Beautiful. Every last bit of it. I can't wait to get to know him much better… But for now, darling, your shower awaits." She starts a slow massage of his cock, keeping her eyes trained to his. "There's more for you when you get out of the shower. Much more."

She releases her grip and feasts her eyes on Robert's cock at its full size. He turns and enters the water. He groans at the feeling of warm water on his body.

“Best shower out of all the hotels around,” Josephine shares.

“Do you come to Hawaii often?” Robert’s melodious voice can still be heard over the water and from behind the glass shower door.

“Often enough. I work in Mary Kay sales. Tops in my city. Good enough to earn the trip out here every year. I spend one day running around at the meeting, and then it’s time for me to play: go to the beach, dance the night away in the clubs, spend the morning with someone special…”

“I’m not your first boy toy? You’re hurting my feelings.”

“Sadly, you're not the first. But I’m sure you can make things unforgettable, no?”

"I'll try my best."

"Now I know you can do better than that, Robert… I'm counting on you."

"Nothing to fear, love. I promise."

A loud knock sounds at the door. "Be right back, sweetie."

While Robert finishes lathering himself up, he guesses about who could have stopped by. It could be as simple as staff bringing extra sheets. Or it could be a friend of Josephine's, another woman on the prowl in paradise. A reinforcement. He fantasizes about two well-dressed women becoming undone by his slightest touch. He groans and is about to stroke himself when Josephine returns.

"You have a mimosa waiting for you when you finish. And as many as you want after that. There's plenty of champagne and orange juice. And some breakfast food, too, if you become famished for some reason."

Robert chuckles. "Nothing better to work up an appetite, innit?"

He rinses the shampoo out of his hair and starts on conditioner. "Fancy another song, Josephine?"

"I'd love one." She starts drinking the glass she intended to give to Robert. She figures she'll have time to pour another, or she can make him forget all about it.

"Come to me, my love/To the sea, the sea of love/I wanna tell you how much I love you…" He croons in a voice that's lower than usual. "Do you remember when we met/That's the day I knew you were my pet/I wanna tell you oh, how much I love you…"

"My goodness, Robert. You are a talented young man… What a beautiful voice."

The shower stops, and he opens the door. "Come with me/To the sea/Of love…"

Josephine struggles with whether to absorb the sound of Robert's seductive purr, or relish the paths that the drops of shower water are taking down his taut skin.

"Are you still with me, Jo?" Robert approaches her, slicks his hair behind his head, and grabs a towel to dry off. He studies her intently. He knows she's turned on as much as he is. He hopes she has as much stamina as he thinks he can muster, after getting a second wind from the shower.

She continues to study him, as if in a trance. She quickly snaps back to reality and stands to approach him. She places one hand on Robert's chest and cups his face with the other. "Yes. I'm all yours today," she declares before teasing his mouth open with her tongue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

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filmfanatic82 · 5 years ago

Photo

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 12

“My lover's got humour

She's the giggle at a funeral

Knows everybody's disapproval

I should've worshipped her sooner

If the heavens ever did speak

She's the last true mouthpiece

Every Sunday's getting more bleak

A fresh poison each week”

-- Take Me to Church, Hozier

__________

“Pen…? Pen? Are you in…” Hope trails off as she opens the door to Penelope’s dorm room and spots Penelope. The raven-haired girl lays on her barren mattress amongst the wreckage of her room passed out with a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels lying nearby. Under her head is the tattered yellow sweater, balled up into a make-shift pillow.

Hope lets out a sigh and in three long strides makes her way across the debris towards the mattress.

“Penelope Park,” Hope says as she reaches down and gives Penelope a firm shake on the shoulders.

“Go away,” Penelope mumbles. She rolls away from Hope to face the wall and readjusts her grip on the sweater.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up.”

“Yeah. We’ve already been over that part.” Hope takes a seat down on the mattress. Her fingers trace over the frayed edges of the yellow sweater making a mental note of it. “Taking it that you found Lizzie?”

“She found me,” Penelope responds with a weighted sigh.

“And she had the sweater?”

“Oh… She had the sweater alright. She not only had it, but she also confronted me with it and then went and showed it to Josie.”

“Shit.”

“Yup,” Penelope says. She buries her head even further into the confines of the sweater, desperate to derive whatever traces of comfort she can from the now tainted object.

“And how did Josie react?”

“How do you think she reacted?” Penelope cringes as soon as the sarcastic remark leaves her mouth. Hope is the last person on the face of the earth she means to lash out at but at the moment it’s all she can manage to do to combat the impending tidal wave of hopelessness from crashing down upon her.

A silence settles between the two of them for a moment or two as Hope lies down next to Penelope on the mattress and stares up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Then--

“Okay… So what do we do next?”

Penelope rolls back over to face Hope unable to hide her sheer shock at the question. “What’d you mean next? There is no next. It’s over. Josie doesn’t want to be within fifty feet of me, let alone go on some impromptu road trip to New Orleans. And there’s no time. The attack is gonna happen in less than 36 hours from now… There’s nothing else to be done. I’ve failed. History is going to repeat itself.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I’m calling bullshit on your ‘there’s nothing else to be done’ Park.”

“It’s the truth,” Penelope huffs out in exasperation.

“No, it’s you giving up,” Hope fires back without missing a beat. “And I’m not accepting it… Not this time. So I’m gonna ask you again… What’s our next move?”

“I dunno.” Penelope exhales and joins Hope in staring up at the ceiling. She snakes her hands behind her head and as she does, her fingers catch on something sharp buried deep within the fabric. Curious, Penelope sits up and starts to rummage through the balled-up sweater.

“What’s up?” Hope asks, picking up on Penelope’s behavior.

“I think I felt--” Penelope trails off as she produces a folded up piece of paper from one of the pockets.

“A note? Who’s it from?” Hope sits up as well and leans over Penelope’s shoulder with sudden interest.

“Not sure.” Penelope carefully unfolds the paper and reveals a handwritten message.

Dear Park,

I know you don’t need to be reminded of this, but just in case, remember that when all else fails, there’s always the truth.

Love,

Mikaelson

Penelope stares at the note, silently re-reading the message to herself as her fingers trace over each and every word.

Of course, only Hope-- Penelope’s Hope-- would find a way to reach her regardless of the circumstances. And just when she needs it the most too.

“I give good advice,” Hope says bringing an instant smile to Penelope’s face.

“Yeah…” Penelope folds back up the note. “You do.”

“And I’m right, you know. About the truth. It’s always an option.”

“But--”

“But nothing, Park. What’s the worst that could happen by telling Josie the truth… The full truth? You said it yourself. That timeline doesn’t’ exist anymore. Or at least not fully. So what’s the harm in filling Josie in on everything?”

Penelope sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as she mulls over the mere idea of laying every last detail of the past six years out on the table for Josie.

It’s not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind before. No. It was a common conversation topic between herself and Caroline whenever they would go down the rabbit hole of possible options beyond reversing the curse itself. But the truth-- the unabridged truth-- came with infinite risks. Some worse than others, but all risks nonetheless. And most, having something to do with Josie’s mental state.

“There are risks with revealing that kind of level of personal knowledge-- even if it’s hypothetical-- on someone,” Penelope replies and Hope gives a defiant smirk in return.

“You think Josie can’t handle the truth?”

Penelope shrugs. “Possibly. Or… It could taint any future decisions that she will make… Or slowly drive her into insanity.”

“Or… It could be a way to get through to her?”

“Or it could be the way to get through to her,” Penelope mimicks Hope’s words with another sigh and a slight eye roll. She knows that the Tribrid could be right, but still--

Penelope’s fingers start to move towards her neck, but before she can make contact with the smooth skin, Hope grabs hold of her hand and stops her.

“Nope. Not happening. Not on my watch,” Hope says pushing Penelope’s hand back down.

“What?”

“We’re breaking you of that habit.”

“Hope, I--”

“No, Penelope. No more nervous tic… It’s not going to happen again, okay?”

“You don’t know that…” Penelope swallows down the dry lump of emotions bubbling up within the back of her throat.

“You’re right. I don’t,” Hope responds. She then leans into Penelope’s shoulder giving her a loving nudge. “But now that I know, I’m sure as hell gonna do everything in my power to prevent it from happening again.”

“Nice motivational speech, Furball.” Penelope nudges Hope back and the two exchange a smile.

“Eh… I try.” Hope then rises to her feet and starts to rummage around the nearby debris.

“What are you looking for?” Penelope asks.

“This.” Hope surfaces with an old leather-bound journal. She tosses it down in front of Penelope onto the mattress.

“A partially used journal?” Penelope replies with a quirk of her brow.

“No, Smartass. Watch.” Hope mutters an indecipherable phrase under her breath and points her fingers at the journal. It ignites in a brief warm amber glow before returning to its original state. “Now it’s a blank journal. And roughly from the size of it, it looks like it could hold six years worth of memories.”

“I can’t write out six years’ worth of memories… Do you know how long that would take?”

“Not if you use a ditatum charm.”

Penelope mulls over Hope’s response for a moment or two.

Hope’s right. All Penelope would have to use is a ditatum charm on a pen coupled with a memoro spell on herself and she could have every last page of that journal filled out within the next four to five hours.

But, still…

Even if she did choose to open a vein and let every last detail-- even the most horrendous ones-- pour out of her and onto the page, would Josie actually take the time to read it? And more importantly… Would she even believe it?

“Okay… What’s the hesitation now?”

“No. I just--”

“Just what? Got a better plan?”

Penelope shakes her head with a sigh of defeat. “No, I don’t.”

Hope grabs a nearby pen off of the floor and then plops herself back down next to Penelope on the mattress. “Here.”

“Now?”

Hope shrugs. “Why not? You said it yourself… Time is of the essence.”

Penelope takes the pen from Hope as a hint of a smile emerges upon her lips. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Hope replies matching Penelope smile with a smirk of her own. “And besides, how else am I gonna find out what on earth compelled me to get my nipples pierced.”

“Oh… It’s a great story,” Penelope laughs.

“Good. Then get going, Park.” Hope gives a nod towards the journal for extra measure. “Cause I’m dying to read it.”

__________

It had been five hours, thirty-eight minutes, and fifteen seconds since Penelope had first put pen to paper and began the arduous task of recounting the last six years worth of memories that had led her to this very moment in time.

And, true to her word, Hope had stayed by her side through every single second of it. At first, wide awake and then somewhere in between the third and fourth hour passed out to the world on the other end of the mattress.

At first, it had been painful. Like the reopening of old, partially healed wounds. But as Penelope had found her rhythm, the words flowed easier and easier, until all that was left was a dull ache for a life that no longer existed.

In some ways it was cathartic. Reliving the last six years, memory by memory. Replaying every decision… every conversation… every last moment of heartache and utter desperation. And in other ways, it served as a sobering reminder that Penelope was no stranger to having her back up against a wall.

No.

She had survived the impossible time and time again. Even when every last card was stacked against her.

Penelope had survived.

And she would survive this as well… Regardless of the outcome.

Penelope finishes off the last sentence with a flourish of the pen and then lets out a much-needed sigh. Her eyes wander over to Hope as a warm smile stretches across her face.

Somewhere over the course of the last two hours, the older girl has managed to curl herself up into a tight ball, with her legs tucked into her chest and her auburn hair spayed over her like a protective blanket. She couldn’t mimic a sleeping wolf pup more if even she tried.

“Such a furball,” Penelope says to herself with a shake of her head. She reaches back behind her, grabs hold of her comforter, and then gently places it over Hope, trying her best not to wake her up in the process. And as she does, she can’t help but think back to one of her last conversations with the other version of Hope, back on the rooftop of their apartment.

It’s still me.

One simple truth, that at the time, had felt like a bit of lip service. Something that Hope only said in order to ensure that Penelope went along with the game plan.

But now…

Now, looking at Hope fast asleep beside her, Penelope realizes that those words were anything but lip service.

They were yet another nugget of wisdom planted by the Tribrid in hopes that Penelope would be able to recall at just the right moment of need.

Deep down inside, Hope is still Hope. Regardless of the timeline nor knowledge of what could potentially happen next.

And if Hope is still Hope then Josie…

“Is still Josie,” Penelope finishes her thoughts out loud, unable to hold the words back. She smiles again as a sudden wave of reassurance washes over her.

Yes, there may be a sizable risk handing over six years’ worth of memories in a single journal, but then again, it’s Josie Saltzman… And Josie, more than anyone else that Penelope has ever met, thrives on knowledge. Actionable knowledge to be more precise.

Penelope runs her hands through her short messy locks and then, with one last look down at Hope, scopes up the journal and heads out of her dorm room.

__________

“Go away, Satan,” Lizzie says before she has even fully opened her dorm room door.

“Wait--” Penelope juts her hand out, stopping Lizzie from slamming the door in her face. “I just need a minute. I swear… Please, Liz.”

“Don’t call me that,” Lizzie growls. She pushes harder against the door only causing Penelope to match her effort with the same stubborn-fueled brute force. It’s a stalemate and neither one of them is planning on backing down anytime soon.

Penelope lets out a frustrated sigh and then locks eyes with Lizzie. “Look. I’m not calling you Liz cause I want to mess with you… Okay, maybe I was at first, but… It’s not like that. In my timeline, you go by Liz. Or at least used to.”

“Used to?” Lizzie quirks her brow in slight confusion.

“Here.” Penelope hands over the journal to Lizzie. “It’s meant for Josie, but you should read it as well. It explains everything. The sweater… Why I’ve been acting so strange… Even why I call you Liz. It’s all in there. All six years worth.”

“Six years?”

“Yeah. Six years,” Penelope replies never once taking her eyes off of Lizzie.

“That means… You’re from the future?” Lizzie’s voice goes a little higher than usual on the last word as if it’s too far-fetched of a possibility to even say, let alone believe.

“Not exactly… More like a potential future… Or what could’ve been a potential future. It’s kinda hard to explain.”

The look of utter confusion only deepens on Lizzie’s face. Penelope watches as her icy blue eyes ping-pong back and forth between the journal and Penelope, desperate for some sort of clarity.

“I… I don’t…” Lizzie trails off as her eyes wander back down upon the journal.

“I know,” Penelope replies with an understanding nod. “I don’t expect you to understand… At least not fully until you read that.”

Lizzie continues to stare at the journal in her hands, not even acknowledging Penelope’s words and Penelope knows that she’s more than said enough. No further explanation is needed. On some level or another Lizzie gets it.

And if Lizzie gets it…

Then Josie will too.

“Just promise me you’ll make sure that Josie reads it… Okay?” Lizzie gives a slight nod still fixated on the journal and Penelope lets out a much-needed sigh of relief.

It isn’t quite as reassuring as handing the journal directly over to Josie herself. No. But it’s the next best thing. If anyone is going to make sure that Josie stops everything and reads it cover to cover, it will be Lizzie.

Penelope releases the door and then starts to walk away when--

“Can I ask you something?”

The simple question compounded by the raw vulnerability in Lizzie’s voice, causing Penelope to freeze in her tracks. She slowly turns around and once again locks eyes with the blonde siphoner as a smirk slides across her face. “You’re about to ask me about Mikaelson, aren’t you?”

“What?” Lizzie replies as her eyes instantly double in size from the sheer shock.

“Mikaelson. You want to know if the two of you end up getting together?”

“I… It’s not… I just…” Lizzie fumbles through her words as her cheeks flush with a noticeable reddish hue.

And Penelope can’t help but let a laugh slip out. “Breathe, Blondie. It’s okay. Mikaelson literally asked me the same exact question just a few hours ago.”

Lizzie starts to fidget with the journal, flipping it back and forth from hand and hand. “She did?”

“Oh yeah. Furball totally did.”

“Furball?”

“Long story but yeah it’s my nickname for Hope… It’ll make much more sense when you get a little beyond the halfway point in that thing.” Penelope punctuates her comment by motioning towards the journal. “Right after our stint in Berlin.”

“Right… Berlin,” Lizzie responds, still sounding utterly lost.

“Listen, I’m going to tell you the same thing that I told Mikaelson when she asked. If you had had the chance in my timeline then you guys would’ve been together in a heartbeat. But you both waited too long… So don’t make that same mistake. If you want to be with her, then be with her,” Penelope says. She tries to push forward a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and Lizzie picks up on it.

“Thanks, Satan.”

“For what?”

“Honesty. Surprisingly enough, it’s a good look on you.”

“Well, as I told your sister, I’m all about turning over a new leaf these days,” Penelope responds. “I’m serious. Make sure she reads that. As soon as possible, okay?”

Lizzie nods, wrapping her hands a little bit tighter around the journal. “Okay.”

With that, Penelope turns around again and takes off down the hallway unsure of where to go next.

There’s nothing left for her to do but to wait.

#posie #posie fic #Josie x Penelope #penelope park #josie saltzman #hope mikaelson #hizzie #lizzie saltzman #legacies #wlw #ao3

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sunshine-pup-fics · 5 years ago

Text

Secret Santa 🍁🍁

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

(This post will be here for you whenever you wake up!)

Hiya @normiewrites , it’s me 🍁 you’re secret Santa! So hi, hello, I’m SaladShark, or Sam! I’ve had this blog for a little while, and as you can see, I mostly write for my sunshine boi kirishima! Of course, feel free to browse my stuff, but you should probably read your fic first!

It’s got lots of references to your answers, and I really hope your character is at least somewhat like you! I’ve had so much fun talking to and messaging you, even reminiscing about old shows that apparently no one else has seen 😂

And speaking off, whilst doing my rewatch of Deltora Quest, I happened to write a short Lief fic at like 2am, so I’ve decided to include that as a little bonus (for past you and first crush 😉)

Alas, without further ado, here is your 6000 word fic. I have no regrets. none. It’s long and that’s how it be!

(P.S. the maple leaf has no relevance or correlation to me. I just wanted to use an emoji and I thought it looked pretty 😂)

Chapter 1: Gifts

Just one week into the school break and (Y/n) had already run out of things to do. One by one her friends seemed to disappear, off to see family, train and just generally take time to be normal teenagers. It felt like everyday (Y/n) was waving goodbye to one more classmate, and with them went her chances for fun and freedom.

Today she had no choice but to mope around the common room and wait for Eijiro. He'd claimed that he'd set up a date, but no amount of pestering had gotten him to crack on the exact details of what he'd planned. So waiting patiently, she was holed up in the common room, awaiting adventure.

(Y/n) shifted her position, throwing her legs over the edge of the couch, grumbling as it did little to relinquish her restlessness. She shifted again, rolling onto her stomach before almost immediately reverting back. A laugh echoed from the dining table. (Y/n) shot up, propping herself on her elbows as she peered over the back of the couch. Kaminari was seated at the table, eating breakfast whilst eyeing her from across the room. "Are you comfortable there, (Y/n)" He chided. She stuck her tongue out. "I want something to DO! But Eijiro hasn’t been down all morning! I'm dying of boredom here Denki!" He laughed again. "Just chill, I'm sure he'll be done soon. Plus you're gonna wanna be ready for everything he has planned." Kaminari got to his feet, collecting his bowl and disappearing into the kitchen, leaving behind an exasperated (Y/n).

Another half an hour passed and (Y/n) had contemplated just going back to bed for another few hours. She had sent no less than 28 messages to Eijiro, and so far had only received one vague reply. A simple “Almost time.”

So she nearly had a heart attack when her phone lit up with a new message. She snatched it from the table and hastily unlocked it, bouncing in her seat as she read the message.

“Everything is all set. Meet at your dorm.”

(Y/n) felt her pace quicken as she spotted Eijiro down the hall. She called out to him, pushing her speed as she tore down the hall. He called back, opening his arms as (Y/n) skidded to a halt, slamming into him. He grunted but managed to keep both of them upright. "Sorry!" She chimed, "I'm just a little bit excited." Kirishima raised a brow. "A little?" He asked. (Y/n) smack him lightly on the arm. He simply smiled, then nodded toward her door. "Well, we can't get going until we're both dressed properly for the occasion." He picked up a bag from the ground, holding it out to her. (Y/n) squinted at him, hesitantly taking it. "Should I be scared of what's in here?" Kirishima was quick to shake his head. "No, it's some new clothes for you. I had to ask Tsu to help with your sizing." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, let's get changed and then go! I'm dying to see what you've been planning for so long!" Without waiting for an answer, she hastily entered her dorm, waving off Eijrio to his own room.

She placed the bag on her bed, kneeling down on the floor to begin unpacking it. She swore her hands were trembling. Her nerves seemed to be alight, causing excitement to whirl up inside her. She knew Kirishima had been planning this for weeks, and to think now it was finally happening. She paused, taking a deep breath, before reaching in and pulling out the top item. The first thing she noticed was how soft it was. She pulled it out, falling backward onto the ground. It was a beautiful (f/c) colour. She unfolded it, a smile etching itself on her face as she looked down at a brand new hoodie. She would have been content with that, but she quickly realised there were still more items in the bag. She gently placed the hoodie on the floor beside her before fishing for the next item.

Next was a T-shirt and a pair of track pants, both incredibly comfortable and a perfect fit. (Now she knew why Tsu had decided to have an impromptu fashion show the other day) There was also a new pair of runners and even a small range of accessories she could choose from.

From everything he had given her, she had at least deduced that they probably weren't going to a fancy restaurant. Regardless, she quickly changed into her new outfit, stashed her phone in her pocket and proceeded to entertain herself with her floppy jumper sleeves.

"Okay, are you ready?" Kirishima asked, glancing at his girlfriend as they headed down the hall. She energetically nodded. "Our bags are by the door, so we can head straight out." "Bags?" She questioned. Kirishima bit his tongue, keeping his mouth shut. (Y/n) huffed, realising she wasn’t getting an answer. "You'll have to tell me what we're doing eventually." She teased.

They continued on their way, descending into the common room and heading for the door. Two backpacks were sitting by the entrance, one (f/c) and one dark red. (Y/n) skidded over, picking one and up and immediately rifling through it. There were snacks, water, battery packs, the usual stuff you'd take on a day trip. She sighed, slinging the bag onto her back and watched Eijiro do the same. "So, you ready to go?" He asked. "Ready as I'll ever be, considering I don't know where we're going."

Chapter 2: The City

(Y/n)s eyes continued to jump from person to person as they wandered down an unknown city street. Her hand was intertwined with Eijiros, and both were drinking in the sites of the city around them. The buildings towered above them, the glass reflecting the sunlight far overhead. There was constant noise, car engines and unintelligible chatter of passer-byers.

(Y/n) glanced up at the red head, pursing her lips. "So, what's the plan huh?" He simply smiled, gesturing out before them. "To wander the city until we find something interesting." "Sounds good to me!" She chimed. They fell back into comfortable silence before (Y/n) shot a confused glance at him. "Then what was that whole week of planning for?" Kirishima laughed, lightly pulling her closer to him before turning a corner. "Trust me! Everything will make sense later." "Fine, fine." She mused.

They continued to stroll, idly chatting and taking turn after turn. The sun had peaked in the sky over an hour ago and had begun it's decent. Warm breezes swept between the buildings, carrying the scents of the city. Everyone they passed seemed to be full of life and personality, it became almost a game to try and guess someone's quirk as they passed.

"What about them? They look a little… angry? So my guess would be fire." Kirishima glanced across the street, seeing a middle-aged man in a business suit, however, his blonde hair was tousled and he looked to be in a sour mood. "You're just saying that because they look a little like Bakugo." (Y/n) nodded "Exactly. They look angry." Kirishima nudged her arm, a playful frown pulling at his lips. (Y/n) simply giggled, already looking around for their next target. "Oh, what about her?" She nodded her head toward a lady walking toward them. She was older, wrinkles beginning to pull at her features. She was smiling, nodding at those who met her gaze. Kirishima hummed. "She looks kind, some sort of healing quirk." He suggested. (Y/n) blew a raspberry, "You're no fun. I recon she has something amazing. Something like being able to manipulate peoples dreams." Kirishima stared at her. (Y/n) ignored him, waving to the lady as they passed her. "How do you just come up with something like that? Especially when looking at her. She looked so sweet and innocent…" (Y/n) leant her head on his shoulder, looking up at him with a sly smile. "Because it's always the people you wouldn’t expect to be the most amazing, strongest and kindest people. Looks aren't everything." Kirishima let his mouth hang open, unable to find any words. "Though, your hair is cute any colour you dye it." She ruffled his hair, earning a mumble in protest.

Eijiro opened his mouth to speak before he realized (Y/n) was slowing down. He stopped a few paces ahead, cocking his head to the side. She was staring down a small street, gaze fixed on something. He gently squeezed her hand. She slowly turned her head toward him, but her eyes stayed locked on whatever had caught her interest. Eijiro returned to her side, peering down the alley. There was a glass roof, sunlight filtering through from the sun peeking over the building. There were a few neatly trimmed bushes and flowerbeds lining the right side, and the left had a few tables and chairs. An ornate looking sign hung out from above a doorway. (Y/n) began toward it, Eijrio having not much choice but to follow. A few steps closer and they were able to discern the words.

'Sweet Talkin'

The two peeked through the glass door. It seemed to be a quaint looking café, mostly wood interior with a surplus amount of plants. "Do you want to check it out?" Kirishima leaned forward to gauge (Y/n)s reaction. She opened her mouth, only for her stomach to grumble. She sheepishly smiled. "I guess there's your answer."

The shop smelled like fresh bread and cinnamon. They'd found out that the store was a small bakery and café, and was located just on the edge of the shopping district. They'd taken seats outside, basking in the warmth of the sun, chatting and sipping their drinks.

The day wore on, the sun dipping lower and was easily lost behind the towering buildings of the city. The breeze now caused chills, urging the some of the afternoon dwellers back inside. Kirishima and (Y/n) had gotten so lost in conversation, enjoying each other's company that they didn’t notice the darkening sky, nor the creeping cold.

It was only when Kirishima's phone started ringing that he realised the time. He pressed the answer button, bringing it up to his ear. "Hey dude, you need anything?" He asked. There was no reply, but a distant thud and a yelp. Then Mina answered. "Hiiiiiii! How's the date? Where are you? What are you doing? I bet it's something SUPER romantic!" She chimed. Kirishima rolled his eyes, mouthing 'It's Mina' to (Y/n), who immediately stifled a giggle. "It's going fine Mina, though I could have sworn this was Denki's number." "Pshhh, it's fine. He let me borrow it!" There was a yell of protest from behind her. "Okay I gotta go, but hurry up and be ROMANTIC KIRISHIMA!" A beeping rung in his ears and he lowered the phone. "The usual?" (Y/n) asked. "The usual." He confirmed.

The two swiftly finished their drinks, paid, and left, continuing their trek to nowhere in particular. They headed further into the shopping district, beginning to window shop until the street lamps switched on.

The sky continued to darken, but despite it, the crowd never seemed to thin. (Y/n) and Eijiro wandered down the street, peaking in different stores. By the time the stars had flicked to life, their feet had begun to ache. Their pace had slackened, and conversation dwindled.

“There’s a game store over there, how about after that one we call it a day?” Kirishima guided her over and held the door open, then slipped inside behind her. They split up, scouring the shelves of games and hunting through the bins of toys and t-shirts. Aft a good while, they met back up at the store entrance, stepping back out into the streets.

“(Y/n)… I just wanted to thank you.”

She cocked her head, brows furrowed. “What for? If it’s just walking around the city with you, then there’s no need for that. I’d go anywhere with you.” He let out an airy laugh. “I’m counting on it. But really, you’ve been here for me through so much, you’ve never given up, and there’s no way I can repay you for that… but this trip is my best shot at it.” He slowed to a stop, taking both her hands in his. “I know you love adventure, and I know you’ve always liked this idea…” he broke away, rifling through his bag for a moment. He pulled something out, (Y/n) only catching a glimpse of black. “It’s not quite as good as the real thing, but I’m taking you on your Pokémon journey.” He smiled, revealing the object to a small Umbreon Plushie. (Y/n) covered her face, nearly curling in on herself as she felt heat flush her cheeks.

How had she managed to find such an adorable dork?

She then realised she hadn’t actually said anything and launched herself at him. For the second time that day, she’d nearly knocked both of them down. Eijiro caught her, wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face into his shoulder. “You’re the absolute best, you know that?”

“Mmhmm. Now how about we head to our hotel? We’re going to need as much rest as possible.”

Chapter 3: The Forest

Morning came, and (Y/n) found herself rocking with the train, staring out the window as she watched the world blur past, Umbreon plush in her lap. They’d left the hotel in the early morning and headed for the train station. The view had started with high rise buildings, soon falling away to more quaint suburban neighbourhoods, then with each passing minute they seemed to become more and more spaced out, trees and shrubbery becoming more prominent than houses or people.

“This is our stop.” Kirishima hauled himself to his feet, swaying with the train as it slowed to halt. He offered his hand, to which (Y/n) gladly took. They collected their bags, now packed with camping gear they’d picked up at the hotel, and quickly ducked out of the train.

The air was cool, rustling the trees nearby and sending leaves spiralling into the air. Everything felt clearer and brighter than it had in the city, the air almost seemed easier to breathe. “There’s a camping spot I’ve picked out for us, it’s about an hours walk. You ready to go?” (Y/n) nodded, and the two began their hike.

The sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves overhead, casting shadows across the blanketed ground. The path the followed was vague and rough, leaving them more adventuring than just simply walking.

“So what kind of Pokémon do you think would be out here?” (Y/n) ducked under a branch, glancing over her shoulder to watch Eijiro nearly smack into it. “There’d definitely be a lot of grass types, maybe even some bird Pokémon too.” (Y/n) hummed, a smirk growing as she innocently turned toward him. “Sooo does that mean my next Pokémon will be a grass type?” "I should have known you were fishing for information." Kirishima pouted, swatting away one of the ferns that lined the path. (Y/n) jut giggled, turning on her heel and continuing on their way.

It didn't feel like long before they stumbled into a small clearing. The trees encircled the small campsite, the lush grass was soft underfoot and flowers had sprung up in patches, dancing with the breeze. There was a cleared area where someone had once previously set up a campfire, and a small pile of logs was neatly stacked by one of the trees. Kirishima strode out into the centre, dropping his bag to the ground as he basked in the sun and breeze. His was hair down, and was losing its colour, fading to a dull red colour. Despite that, it rippled in the wind, looking nothing less than enchanting. He turned his head toward her, flashing his teeth as he held out his hand. (Y/n) returned the smile, taking his hand. They were warm, perhaps a little calloused from hours of rigorous training, but it was comforting. She yelped when Kirishima plopped onto the ground, nearly bringing her down with him. She managed to balance herself, staying upright. Eijiro pouted, letting go of her hand as he flopped backward, sprawling out on the grass. "C'mon, join me for a bit!" (Y/n) hummed, before strolling away toward one of the trees. Eijiro propped himself up on his elbows, watching her silently. She reached on the trees, glancing up into its branches as she circled it. She looked back at her red-head, shooting a grin before she pulled herself up onto one of the low hanging branches, disappearing up into the leaves. Her laugh seemed to echo around the forest, carried by the breeze. Kirishima's gaze trailed up the tree, watching the flashes of (f/c). He lay back down, turning his attention to the clouds overhead, lazily drifting across the vibrant blue sky. (Y/n) had found a branch to perch on, letting her feet dangle below, back against the tree trunk. She could see flashes of the sky from gaps in the leaves, and when the wind blew right, she could glimpse Eijiro still sprawled out on the grass.

Far off birds songs drifted along the wind. The pollen of flowers mingled together, creating a sweet scent that seemed to flavour the air. The leaves were lively colours of green, stretching up into the sky. It was a different kind of beautiful compared to the man-made city of gleaming lights and comfort of civilisation.

"(Y/n)! You gotta help me set up our stuff!" Kirishima called, haphazardly pulling their tent out of its bag. He paused when he didn't hear anything in response. He dropped the bag and turned around, scanning the clearing for her. "(Y/n)!" He called out again. He felt the panic well up inside him. Why wasn't she answering? Had she hurt herself? He sprinted over to the tree he watched her climb. He hadn't seen her climb down, had something happened? What if she'd needed help and it was his fault? He glanced up, squinting as he tried to discern if she was still up there. He couldn’t see her, so he stumbled around the base of the tree to see if she had moved to another side.

He scrambled to the left and promptly yelled as something dropped down right in front of his face. He fell to the ground, his quirk flaring to life as he prepared for a fight. Until (Y/n)s laugh graced his ears. He looked up, gaze falling upon (Y/n), hanging upside down from one of the tree branches. She was laughing, using one hand to cover her mouth whilst the other kept her shirt in place. Kirishima deactivated his quirk, pouting as he got to his feet, dusting himself off. "Not funny, (Y/n)! I thought you had gotten hurt or something." He crossed his arms, and looked away, pretending to be mad. "I'm sorry Eiji! But it was STILL kinda funny." He peaked an eye open to look at her, before tapping his chin in thought. "I might just have to enact revenge then." He watched in amusement as the colour seemed to drain from her face. "You wouldn’t dare hurt you're loving, doting girlfriend, would you?" she put one hand on her heart, feigning hurt. Kirishima inched closer, their faces now close. "You brought this on yourself."

(Y/n) could only watch as Eijiro raised his arms and mercilessly began tickling her. She immediately started laughing, trying to squirm away and swot his hands away without falling off. "EI-EIJIRO! STO-STOP PLEASE! I’M-" "Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite catch that." He relented on his onslaught enough for her to speak a coherent sentence. "I'm sorry! Okay! Please let me free from your tyranny!" He finally stopped tickling, allowing (Y/n) to catch her breath. She hastily pulled herself back up onto the tree branch, letting the blood rush from her head. “I’m going to remember this, Eiji, I hope you know.” He simply laughed, offering a hand to help her down. She raised her brows, turning her nose up at his offer and dropping down off the branch herself. “I’ll never trust again, I swear it.”

The night turned cold, but it bothered neither of the teens, as both were huddled up by their campfire, sharing a blanket as they happily chatted. Eijiro had provided a bag of marshmallows, and a regretful number of them had already been lost to the fiery pit.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare”

“Give me your next good marshmallow.”

Eijiro sighed, throwing a dirty glare at (Y/n). “I should know better by now than to choose dare when there’s food around.” (Y/n) simply grinned, watching the flames lick their marshmallows, turning them a soft delicate brown.

“Okay while I wait, you can go.”

Eijiro paused for a moment.

“What do you keep in that box in your desk drawer?”

“My Beyblades. Truth or dare.”

“Wait what? You mean the box you’ve never let me open and nearly fought Bakugo over just has Beyblades in it?” Kirishima stared incredulously at her as she shrugged. “Yeah, they’re hype. Though I think I have a few Bakugan in there too.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“The only ridiculous thing here is how good your marshmallow is. Now hand it over!” She made grabby hands for it, swiftly robbing him of his marshmallow. “Okay, my turn again, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Did you not learn from last time?”

“What? Picking dare is the manly option!”

“Fine, this is just working in my favour. I dare you to give me my next Pokémon!”

Eijiro rolled his eyes, nudging her arm as he learnt over to his bag. “You’re not meant to be able to do that. But here, enjoy your new friend.” He handed her another plushie. “A Torterra! Dude he looks so cool!” (Y/n) raised the plush up, examining it in the firelight. After deeming it good, she cradled it to her chest.

“Oh, wait a sec-“ (Y/n) reached for her own bag, pulling out her Umbreon. She handed Kirishima her Torterra. He sent a confused look, hesitantly taking it. “Now we both have buddies!” She shuffled over, leaning on Eijiro as she clutched the Umbreon in her lap. She finally turned her attention to the sky. It was now inky black, speckled with hundreds of stars. “It’s amazing how pretty it looks. We see the same sky from our dorms and it doesn’t look half as full as this.” Eijiro hummed in response.

“Though of course, you know that you’re more beautiful.”

“You wouldn’t let me forget it.”

Chapter 4: The River

(Y/n) awoke the next morning to the pleasant smell of bacon and eggs. She sat up, stretching out and then groggily stumbled out of the tent. “Morning.” She mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Eijiro greeted her back. He was sitting on the grass by a dwindling fire, tending to the pan of food. She took a seat beside him, leaning back on her hands. “Y’know I would have been happy to cook.”

“You’re the Pokémon trainer here, it’s customary that the companion cooks.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Breakfast continued, the two eating their fill before packing up camp. Eijiro said they’d be heading east, toward their next camp spot. They began their trek, and it wasn’t long before (Y/n) became giddy at the sound of running water. She’d grabbed Eijiros hand and began tugging him along as she picked up the pace. And to her delight, the path came to run alongside a charming river. It was rather shallow but still wide, and the water cast dancing patterns on the pebbled banks, with ferns and plants growing either side, dipping their leaves into the water.

(Y/n) has immediately slid down to the water's edge. Dipping her hand in and watching the water ripple and weave around it. Eijiro couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face and the warm feeling that spread through his chest at the sight of her. She was so childishly giddy about seeing a river, he was glad he got to see this part of her.

(Y/n) closed her eyes, hand still in the river as she activated her quirk. She thought for a moment before a smile broke out on her lips. She felt a numbness creep up her arm, but as fast as it came, it disappeared. She opened her eyes, gaze sweeping the water. There was a moment of silence before something sprang from the water. It made a dash for Eijiro, running around his feet as he spun on his heels to try and catch it. (Y/n) laughed, getting up from the water's edge and rushing over to them. She grinned when a small bear cub, made entirely of water, reared up to lean on her leg. The water shimmered and glistened, holding it’s form as if filling a container. The cub dropped back down, bolting into the foliage, only to come sprinting back out a few seconds later.

“All that training must have paid off! It’s holding its shape really well! And you formed it so quick.”

“It’s definitely easier than it used to be and doesn’t take as much energy. I’m still struggling to maintain larger animals though.” She watched as the bear cub headed back for the river, and released its form once it was far enough in. The water collapsed, returning to from once it came.

“Come on, a little further down and we’ll be at our next site. And the river is deep enough you can swim in it-“ Eijiro didn’t even have time to properly finish his sentence before (Y/n) had taken off again, calling over her shoulder for him to hurry up.

(Y/n) watched from the water as Kirishima finished putting up their tent. She submerged herself further into the water, just her eyes peeking above the water. He kept shooting her glances as if he was afraid she’d just disappear at any moment. Though he knew her tendency to lose track of everything when she was swimming.

“Come ooooon! Hurry up Eiji!”

He rolled his eyes, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the side. He turned back around, only to come face to face with himself. A perfect water copy of himself, except it was wearing a U.A uniform. He stood in awe for a moment, catching the details as the sun rippled through it. He focused on the scenery behind it, watching as the trees shifted and wavered, the water distorting it. He reached a hand up to touch it, pushing lightly on its shoulder. It stayed solid, reacting as if it were human.

Then, it took a few steps back, wading into the water before it collapsed.

“So, what do you think?”

He stared at (Y/n), who was floating nonchalantly as she looked at him. He opened his mouth a few times, shaking his hands in an effort to will himself to speak.

“That… that was incredible! How long have you been able to do that? Can you do anyone else?” He rushed to over, looking down at (Y/n) who had floated over to him. She sat in the shallow water, scratching the back of her head. “Only just recently. And no, I can’t do anyone else. You’re the very first person I’ve been able to recreate, really.” She felt her cheeks flush as Kirishima stared down at her with the utmost adoration. “I can make rough depictions of people if I’ve seen them enough, but nowhere near that level of detail. You… y’know, just happen to be around a lot.” She smiled, floating on her back and pushing back out into the river.

Eijiro followed, effortlessly diving in under the water. He swam up behind her, popping up and pushing a wave of water over her. She immediately shot up, a perplexed look, before it melted into one of a mischievous smile. “Are you sure you want to challenge me at this game?” She quirked an eyebrow, daring him to accept. Eijiro kept a calm expression, simply nodding. “Maybe I do dare challenge you.”

Eijiro immediately lost as (Y/n) summoned a large horse. It stood atop the water behind her, staring down at him as its mane dripped water, causing ripples across the surface. (Y/n) simply clicked her tongue. “I can spare you this loss if you step down now.”

Eijiro sighed, lowering his head in defeat. “I always know when I’m defeated…”

“And that isn’t now!”

Eijiro sprang forward, sweeping his arms around beside him, causing a wave of water to go crashing into (Y/n). She sputtered for a moment, before throwing her hand out. The horse sprang forward, only to collapse its entire volume of water on Eijiros face.

This went on for some time, Eijiro trying to deny defeat and (Y/n) laughing victoriously every time she crashed another water beast atop him. Though she had to admit, he put up a strong fight. After Eijiro had claimed a tie, they'd ended up sitting in the shallows by the bank, with (Y/n) 'practising' her quirk. She'd made a range of animals, both small and large, and even tried making a couple of her classmates.

"Hypothetically speaking, would you be able to make something that's not real?"

"Depends on what you mean. If you're implying what I think, then…" She trailed off, trailing her hand in the water as she concentrated. She felt the numbness creep up her arm, and the exhaustion start to settle in. She let her eyes flutter back open when she felt it. Eijiro watched in awe as an Umbreon emerged from the water. Its eyes seemed to swirl with darker water, giving it the air of life. It padded across the water's surface, walking in a few circles before making its way to Eijiro. He reached out to pet it, noticing how the tips of his fingers went through it. Once he retracted his hand, it fell away, back into the river. "As long as I've seen it enough and know its shape, I can make it out of water." "I see it all the time but you always seem to find a way to amaze me." He got to his feet, offering a hand to her. "But I have seen it enough to know when you're starting to use it too much." (Y/n) sighed, taking his hand. "I know, I know." They headed back toward their tent, Eijiro tossing a towel over (Y/n)'s head, much to her protest.

And after drying off, (Y/n) was gifted her next pokemon.

With Feraligator in hand, she promised Eijiro that she'd make a full-sized water one for him by the end of the break.

Chapter 5: The Beach

In the morning, they'd once again set off east, following the river. By the time the sun had just about peaked in the sky, the trees had started to thin, giving way to more low shrubbery and looser soil. The distant chirping and sound if running water had begun to mingle with the sounds of traffic and the ever so faint sound of crashing waves. However, the salty breeze was a dead giveaway. They kept walking, cursing when the dirt turned to sand and they sunk every step. (Y/n) expected to see the ocean much before they reached it, but was pleasantly surprised when they stepped foot out of the trees to find they were just a sand dune away. It was the perfect day, bright blue sky with puffy white clouds. The two hobbled out onto the sand, taking in the vibrant sand and stretching sea before them. Further down the beach on their right was a wooden walkway that lead to what seemed to be a row of shops and cafes, all facing the sea. Further down was also a a giant stone jetty, waves lapping at the sides.

“Race you to the water.”

Eijiro didn’t even get a word out before (Y/n) had dropped her bag and had hightailed it for the sea. She wasted no time diving in, already wearing her bathing suit as per Eijiros hint. Itching to do the same, Eijiro dropped his bags too, scrambling across the hot sand toward the clutches of the endless sea.

By early afternoon, they’d already worn themselves out. Races, splash wars, even wowEd the other beach dwellers with (Y/n)s quirk. And made the best sandcastle.

They’d haphazardly set up their tent as an escape from the sand and sun, watching the few young kids chase and flee from the rolling waves.

“Okay, what about that kid's quirk.”

“They literally have the head of a seahorse, (Y/n).”

“Think of Tokoyami! He has a bird head but that’s not his quirk!”

“Okay, fair point. But if he didn’t have a bird head… what would darkshadow look like?”

“I…” (Y/n) paused, brows furrowed as she tried to find an answer. She looked more confused with each passing second. Eijiro laughed, moving to clamber out of the tent.

“How about you debate it over ice cream?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Staring into the swirling depths of the sea with ice cream was always a good pass time.

(Y/n) swung her legs rhythmically as she worked away at her ice cream. Eijiro was right beside her, always stealing glances at her. He swore he’d never seen her so happy, so carefree. It was hard not to be swamped by work, not to lose motivation as they got attacked, over and over. No one had been prepared for agar their first year at U.A would be like, but Eijiro was just glad to have had (Y/n) by his side.

“-jiro. Eiiijiii.”

He blinked rapidly, realising he’d been staring off. “Oh, uh, yeah?” He turned toward her. With a swift flick, (Y/n) smeared a dollop of ice cream on his nose. She giggled to herself, trying to stifle them as Eijiro went cross-eyed to look at it. ”Here-“ (Y/n) offered a napkin, to which he gladly accepted. “You were looking so serious, staring off into the distance.” She weaselled one of her hands into his, and he grasped it without even noticing. “This won’t last forever you know.” (Y/n) stuck the rest of her ice cream in her mouth, using her now free hand to fish something from her pocket. She pulled out her phone, unlocking it and manoeuvring to select an app. “But you know what will last forever?” She raised her phone, moving to lean further on Eijiro as she tried to fit both of them in frame. He panicked, quickly smiling as (Y/n) hit the capture button. She brought the phone closer to them, checking out the photo.

“I’m not even sure you noticed, but I’ve been taking pictures of our whole journey.” She handed him her phone but began flicking through all the photos.

Eijiro had to admit, he hadn’t noticed. There were plenty from each day, many of just scenery, but without failure, every day she had taken a picture of him, with the plushie from that day in the corner. The first had been him holding her hand as they wandered the streets of the city. The second was him by the fire, Torterra clutched to his chest. The third was him sitting by the riverbank, imitating the Feraligator that sat by his feet.

“You took all these?”

“Of course. I wanted to save the memories of each place. And the plushies, and you, were the biggest part of all of them.”

“Then you’ll need one for today, right?”

It was Eijiros turn to fish for something, quickly sorting through his backpack.

He pulled out yet another plushie; a Swampert.

He handed it to (Y/n), watching as she smiled to herself, running her fingers along its fins.

In a split second decision, Eijiro raised (Y/n)s phone. She glanced up at it for a second before smiling.

And then he leaned in, planting a kiss on her cheek. He clicked the capture button, sealing the moment in time. He pulled away, leaving a sputtering (Y/n).

“I think that’s the best photo yet.”

“You could have warned me!”

END

And that's it! I do hope you like it, now have a wonderful holiday! And of course, feel free to send a message anytime!

But don’t think I didn't forget your bonus ;3

Lief was not prepared for this. Considering everything they’d faced along their quest, he was confused as to how this was the scariest thing he had to face.

He’d read ‘The Belt of Deltora’ from cover to cover, forward and backward and memorised it. He trained with his father, honed his skill with the sword. He was quick, agile and witty. He thought he was prepared for his quest.

So why was talking to (Y/n) such an impossible feat? He’d been perfectly fine until now. It felt as if anytime she was near, anytime she looked at him, and suddenly his heart was racing. He always tried to excuse himself, and in the beginning, it was fine. Barda would give him a curious glance but would shrug it off. Except now (Y/n) had started acting differently. She spoke less, and barely even started a conversation with him anymore. And Lief had deduced pretty quickly that he was the problem.

Lief stared back at his reflection, his eyes boring into himself. He clutched his empty water bottle in his hands, idly fiddling with the cap. Barda and (Y/n) were close by, setting up camp for the night. He felt his cheeks flush from even the thought of her. Perhaps he should consult the belt. Though he felt that to be an irresponsible thing to do.

His hand hovered over the gems, contemplating what to do.

He jumped when a twig snapped behind him. He jerked around, eyes wide and free hand on the hilt of his sword. His gaze found (Y/n)’s. She stood a few feet away, her own water bottle in her hands. She stared back at him for a few seconds, before her gaze dropped to the ground. She scuffed the ground with her boot, beginning to speak. “Oh, sorry for scaring you, Lief. I was just coming to fill my water… I can do it later though.” She turned away. “Wa-Wait!” Lief reached out for her, quickly becoming embarrassed as she turned back to look at him with a quizzical expression. He gestured to the stream beside him, averting his gaze. “It’s fine, there’s no reason not to.” He tried to smile, then turned back to the stream himself. He uncapped his bottle and began filling it.

(Y/n) hesitantly kneeled down beside him, wordlessly staring into the rippling water.

Lief felt his stomach tighten. This would be the perfect opportunity to explain himself, to tell her how he felt. Yet the words wouldn’t come. And drained with his breath was his confidence.

There were a range of things that could go wrong. So many ideas swirled through his head that he almost didn’t realise (Y/n) had spoken to him.

She was looking at him expectantly, brows knit together. He sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, what did you say?” He watched as she sighed, a sad glint in her eye, almost as if she’d been expecting it.

“I wanted to know… why you’ve been avoiding me… shutting me out.” She glanced at him, (e/c) clashing with blue. He sputtered for a moment. “I-I haven’t been!” (Y/n)s gaze hardened. “Oh? Cause that’s what I’ve been reading the situation as.” She finished filling her water bottle, getting to her feet and towering over Lief. “What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with me? What did I do, Lief? I’ve made more conversation with a squirrel than I have with you recently.” She huffed. Lief staggered to his feet.

“You- you haven’t done anything wrong- apart from just being yourself-“

(Y/n) scoffed at him. “Oh so just being myself is a problem now?”

“No! That’s not what I meant! I just- you’re making go crazy!”

(Y/n) sharpened her glare.

“That came out wrong too! Agh, I swear-“

(Y/n) threw her hands up. “Whatever, I get when I’m not wanted around. I’ll be with Barta for a bit. See you later. Maybe.”

With a final huff, she fled back into the forest.

He watched her go, eyes trailing after her. He wanted to call to her, to apologise, do anything. But he remained silent, head hung in shame.

Leif stumbled his way back to camp, cursing himself for being so stupid. All he’d had to do was coherently explain his feelings, and all he’d managed to do was make (Y/n) hate him.

He came upon their camping ground, only to see Barda seated by the campfire. Lief opened his mouth to ask, but Barda answered. “(Y/n) said she’d be back in the morning. Had some business she needed to take care of.” Lief nodded, taking a seat by the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker. He knew she was a capable fighter, but he couldn’t be rid the worry in his stomach.

Morning came, and there was no sign of (Y/n). Lief and Barda delayed breakfast, idling around until neither could wait any longer. They ate, leaving some food aside for when (Y/n) returned. If she returned. The sun continued to rise, and both men were growing impatient. They’d packed up camp, resorting to scouting the immediate area.

And they’d nearly given up hope, until yelling drifted with the breeze.

They immediately fell to alert, swords drawn. The yelling sounded as if they were being attacked, gasping shouts and pained yells. With a glance of agreement, the two barrelled through the forest.

(Y/n) huffed, swiftly dodging another Grey Guard before lunging forward and impaling them on her spear. Another charged her from behind, and she ducked to the ground and swept her spear under his legs, leaving him as a heap on the ground. Grey Guards littered the floor, but there seemed to be no end to them. She mentally kicked herself for storming off to have a tantrum. Sure she was mad, but a petty argument was nothing to storm off about. There were more important things to be doing.

But here she was, fighting off two entire pods of Grey Guards. She hissed as one tried to swipe at her with his sword. 3 more guards had moved to take the fallen guards place.

She launched at another one, piercing him in the arm. He grunted in pain, dropping to the ground. She parried a blow from another, bracing for impact as another one charged from behind.

A yell tore from her throat as their sword sliced her leg. She crashed to the ground, gaze following the sweep of blonde that blazed past her. She knew who had come to protect her. They always did.

She quickly sliced a strip of fabric from her cloak, wincing as she tightened it around her leg.

“(Y/n)! Are you alright?” Barda spared a glance behind him, locking gazes with her. She nodded, carefully getting to her feet. She leant on her spear, gritting her teeth as the pain flared through her leg.

Suddenly Lief was by her side, fending of a guard all whilst looking at her. “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry (Y/n)!”

She rolled her eyes. “We’re both at fault here. Let’s just fight these guys so we can live another day.” She stabbed a guard trying to attack her.

“But if I had just told you that I loved you, none of this would have happened!”

“Nows not the time Lief- wait, what did you just say!?” She shot him an incredulous look as she tried her best to evade the guards.

“You two can sort that out later! We need to get out of here before more arrive!” Barda bellowed. Leif yelled in agreement. “I suggest we knock off these guys fast then, I’m not about to run anywhere!” (Y/n) shot back.

Barda didn’t hesitate, quickly making a signal to Lief. (Y/n) didn’t get the chance to ask, as what seemed with not an ounce of effort, Lief swept (Y/n) up into his arms, making a mad dash after Barda.

The three collapsed on the ground, heaving heavy breaths as they tried to collect themselves. (Y/n) wriggled off Lief, sprawling out on the grass.

“What in all of Deltora possessed you to fight them (Y/n)?”

She picked her head up and stuck her tongue out at Barda.

“They were hunting you, so I figured I’d distract them for awhile until maybe you knuckleheads moved on. There was another pod nearby though and they managed to corner me.” She rolled over, now facing the sky. She flinched as her leg brushed against the grass.

“Let me look at that cut.” Lief was by her side immediately, concerned gaze fixed on her makeshift bandage.

(Y/n) propped herself against a tree, eyes closed as she twitched with every touch. Barda has disappeared to fetch more water.

She cracked one eye open to watch Lief. He was crouched beside her, carefully cleaning her wound. His touch was delicate, as if he was afraid of hurting her. She gazed at his face. There was anger swirling in his eyes.

“Did you mean what you said back there?”

Leif didn’t respond, and for a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her.

“I did…” he paused, hand hovering over her leg. “You’re amazing, (Y/n). And I let you get hurt.” He clenched his fists; knuckles going white.

He jumped when something caressed his shoulder. He turned to look at her. She was smiling softly.

“But I’m here now, right? You did save me.”

Leif nodded, returning to cleaning her wound. He swiftly applied their ointment and rewrapped it with bandages.

(Y/n) pat the ground beside her, to which Leif hesitantly sat down. They sat in silence, simply taking in the forest around them, until (Y/n) leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His hand flew to the spot and his mouth hung open, but when he looked to her, her eyes were closed, but a sly smile graced her lips.

Barda returned to camp, carrying the filled water bottles. It was oddly quiet and he nearly feared the worst.

Until he reached their camp and realised they were fine. He smiled, settling down beside their belongings.

Both teens were peacefully asleep, hands intertwined.

#bnha writers fest #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #mha kirishima

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seriouslyhooked · 5 years ago

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Lost Souls and Reveries (Part 20)

22 part AU written for @cssns. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6,Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13,Part 14, Part 15,Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19. Story available on AO3 Here and FF Here. Banner created by the amazingly talented @shipsxahoy!!

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to a future he is destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers, but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest). Rated M.

A/N: Hey everyone! So sorry for the delay on this chapter. It’s been a crazy and hectic summer, and the muse has been chatting at her own strange pace, but I finally got the chance to write this installment. Just to warn you all, we’re in the middle of piecing together a lot of these remaining issues and this will be ending on a cliff hanger. I know, I know, but the gang is all trying to figure out what Elsa’s dreams mean and what the red eyed shifters want. We’ll get a bit more information in this installment, but all will be revealed and sorted next chapter (which should be posted within the next week). This chapter is also a little less CS focused, because they’re dealing with a big issue, but I promise we’ll be back to our normally scheduled fluff soon. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and I hope you all enjoy!

It was amazing to Emma how a day that started off on such a turbulent track could seemingly turn around on a dime.

This morning had been a huge headache for her and Killian, and though she’d now set boundaries with her parents (most specifically her mother), Emma couldn’t help the lingering fatigue that clung to her. It was exhausting trying to plan a satisfactorily ‘fairy tale wedding’ when all she really wanted was a day of love and light and her mate, but at the end of the day it was Killian who largely saved her sanity. Yes, her grandmother had graciously stepped in, and her friends had shown up just in the nick of time to cut any remaining tension, but it was Emma’s true love who really saved the day.

Having Killian’s calm to cling to when things got stormy was such a blessing, as far as Emma was concerned. It was amazing to have someone so securely in her corner, someone who thought and acted always in the best interest of her heart. His instincts were to care for her and protect her, but to do that in a way that still empowered her to be strong all on her own. Killian may try and shield her, but he also bolstered her too. He made her brave and hopeful, and on top of all of that, he also made her blood thrum with a never-ending sense of want, and her soul flood with a near constant state of rightness…

“Killian, please, you’re teasing me, and you know how much I hate that.”

The feel of his hands on her body, running along her skin as his mouth moved across to mark all of her most sensitive places was driving Emma crazy. It was so good – so mind shatteringly perfect – but it just wasn’t quite enough. He was drawing this out and taking his time, and yeah, maybe they had all night, and maybe he’d already taken her in the kitchen mere minutes ago, but she couldn’t wait. It was killing her to feel so close but not quite there. She was restless and needy and flooded with desperate desire. And her mate was eating it all up, loving how riled she got while tormenting her with that sinful grin of his.

“Hate is a strong word, love,” Killian rumbled against her skin, his teeth nipping at her in the most provocative way and sparking even more arousal and want. “And I happen to know for a fact that hate isn’t the winner in the sea of your emotions right now. I might be driving you mad, but not so secretly you love this. You love me in every way I give myself to you.”

“Yes, God yes, but – uh -,”

Words and all rational thinking flew out the window as he found the place she wanted him most, tracing her delicate flesh with a lightness that verged on feathery. Her eyes closed and she moaned aloud, forgetting her whole argument for a moment, but then, when he’d moved lower, teasing her with his hand only to move down her body and hover over her sex with his mouth he stopped, making her crazy all over again.

“Tell me what you want, Emma. You know I’ll give you anything you ask. Anything at all.”

“Oh!” Again she lost all ability to even think as his tongue worked against her, moving exactly how she liked it. He was an expert at her every last desire, and he knew it, numbing her mind with bliss and letting her think she could have it before she gave him what he’d asked for.

“Emma,” he said, his voice playful but somehow still growly, showing her that he was still in control but that it was slipping. Much as he might play in these moments, Killian was just as caught up as her, and he could only last so long before giving in. Lucky for him though, she always seemed to cave first.

“Love me, Killian. Taste me. Take me. Anything, please!”

She heard a mumbled ‘as you wish’ pass his lips before he continued devouring her, making her come apart with the mastery of his mouth. He then gave her just enough time to return to herself, and when she’d finally felt like the world stopped spinning, he came back above her and filled him with himself in such a deep and consuming way she almost couldn’t breathe. It was so good and so real, and when it was over it felt in some ways like it had only just begun. The love was strong between them, anchoring her to a happiness no money could ever bye, and Emma sighed into it, reveling in the sensation that everything was as it should be.

Tucked into his chest and protected by his hold on her, Emma nuzzled into her fiancé, taking in the scent of the two of them together. It was intoxicating and comforting all at once, much like the familiar press of his hard body against hers. This was her most sacred space, the place her heart felt truly free, and she was so grateful to have found it that tears formed in her eyes.

“Was I too hard with you, my love?” Killian asked, though she knew he knew that wasn’t the answer.

“Never. You’re always just right.”

“Then what’s brought on those tears?”

“Can’t a girl just be so happy that she cries a little?” Emma asked, sniffling a bit before she broke into a smile. Killian chuckled at her joke and she responded in kind as her hand came to rest above his heart. “I know it sounds stupid -,”

“Not at all, Emma. It sounds like exactly what I’ll always want for us. This feeling – this love, this joy – it’s what we’ve been meant for. Before we were two lost souls, and now we’re one that’s found. That’s a beautiful thing.”

Emma nodded, humming out a contented noise almost like a purr at his words before watching Killian’s hand move over to where their baby was now growing. It was too soon for anything like a kick from their little one, but Emma swore she felt a little flutter, a reminder that their little boy or girl was with them always. “Well technically we’re one with one on the way.”

“As per usual you are right, love. And it’s only a matter of time before one becomes more…”

“So is this the kind of thing that’s going to fade after the wedding, or what?”

The question from Anna was teasing in nature, but it pulled Emma back so forcefully from her remembrance of last night with Killian that she actually jolted in place. God, she had totally left the building mentally. She was reliving a private moment with her man, but in actuality her friends were here, organizing the different dishes they’d made and snacks they brought to this impromptu cook out. Emma felt her cheeks warm, but though she might be flustered, she couldn’t say she was embarrassed. She loved Killian too much to have anything like shame as far as he was concerned, but in an ideal world she might not have let her mind wander quite so far when she was with friends who were needing her attention.

“No way. She’s going to look this smitten forever,” Ruby countered, her smirk signaling her amusement while also telling Emma she harbored no resentment to Emma’s blanking out. “But as bad as she is, my cousin’s even worse. Killian will be as old as the day is long and still staring at Emma like she hangs the moon.”

“Guys.” Emma wished she had a comeback or something, but there was none to be found. They weren’t wrong, after all. She was smitten, and though she might have been known for her poker face once upon a time, those days were largely gone. Anyone could read her feelings now, blush or not, and what they read was that she was in love.

“What? It’s not a bad thing, Emma,” Anna affirmed. “God knows you both deserve it. And it’s really… uh, sweet.”

“You don’t sound so convinced,” Emma replied and she was curious as to Anna’s new perspective on things. She thought her friend was happy for her, and she could tell she was, but there was something a little off with her today.

“Don’t mind, Anna, she’s just impatient,” Elsa said, trying to smooth everything over. “She wants her own shifter soul mate, and you know how she feels about waiting.”

“It’s not the waiting,” Anna said sternly before yielding the truth. “Okay, so it’s partially about the waiting. But really it’s just… I mean, I’m worried. What if he never comes? What if there’s only so much of this cute, cuddly, couply stuff to go around?”

“Not a chance,” Emma said, completely certain on this matter. “There’s no way your one isn’t out there Anna. Shifter or not, you’re going to find the man you belong with. He’s just a little delayed.”

“A little?” Anna asked, and the rest of them laughed. Anna made it seem like it had been an eternity, but Emma had only known Killian a few months and Elsa and Ruby had only known Liam and Graham a handful of weeks.

“Think of it this way,” Elsa offered. “It’s just one more thing you’ll have in common. I mean honestly, when was the last time you made it to anything on time?”

Anna grumbled that her sister made a good point and all of them laughed again at her feigned annoyance. It was so typically Anna, and now that she’d gotten what Emma knew to be very real worries out there, she would let it be for now. Anna was always good about that. She knew that giving oneself over to anxiety was a lost cause, and until there was really need to panic, it was best to look on the bright side, and right now, there were admittedly many pieces of all of their lives that were bright and beautiful.

That beauty was something that didn’t just belong to Emma. Ruby and Elsa had equally as much cause for joy and they both were eager to share their similar yet very different stories. At one end of the new-mates spectrum there were Elsa and Liam, who were bonded and blissful together, but still taking things step by step. They neither of them had any need to move quickly, instead getting to know each other better even though their hearts were already intertwined. On the other end of the mate measurement scale were Ruby and Graham, two shifters who had always known their animals and their destinies, and who, as a result, had no fear diving in.

“Graham told me this morning that he’s getting me pregnant next full moon.”

“He said what?!” Anna barked out, her hand flying over her heart in shock.

“How could he know?” Elsa asked, and though she was less visibly stunned at the words, Emma saw the trace of a blush on her cheeks. It made Emma smile, and she wondered how many times she and Liam might have spoken of something similar. Because no matter how slow they were taking things, Emma knew there was no way something like that had gone unsaid. Liam was all in, and he never made any attempt to hide that from her friend.

“He doesn’t,” Ruby said with a shrug. “But damn if it won’t be amazing letting him try.”

“As if you aren’t already trying,” Emma joked and Ruby chuckled.

“What can I say? When you’re right, you’re right. I love that man. He’s mine and I’m his and I’ll be damned if we don’t have our three babies that my visions and my dreams always promised.”

“I wish I had those kinds of dreams,” Anna said wistfully, and though Elsa nodded, Emma could see something in her best friend’s eyes that hinted at something larger.

“Me too.”

“You’ll get there, Elsa. These nightmares will pass.”

“You’re having nightmares again?” Emma asked, surprised since this was the first she’d heard of it. She assumed Elsa’s nightmares were a thing of the past. The reason for them had always presumably been Liam being out there searching for Killian, and when Liam found his way here, they had stopped.

“It’s probably nothing, just unsettled stress. A lot has happened, and my brain is just catching up.”

“And what exactly is your brain telling you while it catches up?” Emma pushed, waiting for Elsa to meet her eye and then confess to her.

“Well honestly it’s hard to explain. The dreams are choppy and kind of manic.”

“So kind of like the one’s about Liam?” Emma clarified.

“Sort of, but they’re worse. There’s more anger and there’s always this sense of hunting or being hunted. Sometimes I’m the prey and sometimes I’m the predator, but in the end it always ends the same, with my heart about to beat out of my chest, my body worked up in a cold sweat, and everything flashing to red.”

“That’s what I haven’t been able to make out,” Ruby said, and it was clear that she had previously interrogated Elsa thoroughly about these dreams. “I looked through my family’s spells and journals, and Elsa looked through hers, but red is actually a pretty rare color when it comes to magic, and the sentiments around it are varied. Red birds in the trees are a sign of good luck and red soil a sign of new harvest, but then there’s the obvious connotations too when it’s something bad like this.”

“Blood,” Emma whispered. Elsa nodded.

“But it’s brighter than blood. It’s bold but terrible, heightened and horrifying. It’s everywhere in the dreams. In the rivers, in the sunlight, in their eyes.”

“They have red eyes?” Emma responded, her stomach sinking to new lows as her sense of foreboding built astronomically.

“Yes. They’re like -,”

“Like Liam’s at his breaking point, but scarlet and full.”

“Yes,” Elsa hedged, though the raising of her brow told Emma that she was perplexed at how she could know that. “But I’ve looked through all I could find in my family’s archives and there’s no accounts of shifters with eyes like that. The closest is a copper color for lions, but that’ not what this is.”

“No they’re far less natural. Like you took red ink and exposed it to something chemical. I’ve never seen anything else like it.”

“But Emma how did you…?”

“When I was attacked in Boston by that shifter, it had red eyes just like that, remember? I told you about it.”

“You told me there were two wolves fighting over you,” Elsa clarified, her face betraying the current wracking of her memory for some sort of lost clue. “You said they were giant and that there was one that was good and one bad. You said it was terrifying, but I don’t remember anything about their eyes.”

Was it possible that Emma had never mentioned the color of their eyes to Elsa? Looking back, it would have felt like a small detail to her when compared to everything else. She’d almost been killed by one giant wolf and then promptly saved by another. At the time Emma also felt like she was going crazy. She’d literally written it off as a mental break for years, so it stood to reason that maybe she might have let this detail slip by. But this detail, however tiny it might have seemed back then, was too big a similarity to be purely coincidental.

“Wait,” Anna said, holding her hand up as she tried to catch up. “So what you’re saying is a wolf had red eyes like Elsa’s dream? But how could that be?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Emma admitted. “But I think the bigger question is how likely is it that these are only dreams and not actual visions?”

They all knew the answer to that, and with a quick agreement that this wasn’t something that could wait, they all headed outside. Emma was eager to get this out there and see if maybe they could all figure this out. She had spoken before with Killian about that night, but maybe he had more insight into what was wrong with that other shifter. Was there something more than the eyes and the aggression? They needed to know, and they needed to know now.

As soon as she was out of the house, Killian’s gaze found hers, and without a word she knew he was aware something was wrong. Her mind was open to his, and she read that he was concerned about Elsa’s dreams, so she pushed to him that they were more than just dreams, and that as such this was a way bigger issue than a little lack of sleep.

“They’re visions. Definitely visions,” she said as she took comfort in his arms. It helped a lot to be with him, but Emma would be lying if she said she wasn’t scared. Damn it! Were things always going to be like this? They get past one big battle just to trade it in for another?

“Aye, so it would seem,” Killian said and his affirmation made Emma close her eyes. She wished she could go back to a few hours ago. Okay maybe not the wedding planning part, but definitely last night or early this morning. Things were so good. Why, oh why, did they have to get so wonky?

“So much for normal, huh?”

This time Killian didn’t need to say any words aloud. He commiserated with her on a deeper level, keeping her wrapped up tight and pressing a kiss to her temple. It was soft and subtle, but it told Emma that he was here and here to stay, and whether life was normal or not, they would get through this just like they had everything before.

“Normal or not, what we need right now is the full story,” Liam said, taking charge in a way Emma recognized as being similar to his brother. “If there are red-eyed shifters in our path somehow, we need everyone on the same page.”

Emma agreed and the group of them all moved back to the patio where Emma’s parents, her grandmother and Granny had remained. For a moment Emma felt a bit of guilt. Right now her family was laughing and happy, all of them smiling and looking really relaxed. Maybe it was lingering planning for the wedding, or just a pure moment of contentment, but whatever the reason for their joy, Emma was about to change that. They were all going to take that from them, and Emma wished that didn’t have to be the case.

“They want to help, love, and I promise we’ll all be back to that state very soon. We’ve a wedding coming up after all, and nothing, not storm, nor man, nor beast is going to keep us from that, all right?”

Emma nodded before whispering that she loved him and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. She felt enough comfort from his promise to push forward, and though it broke her heart to see the moment when her parents and grandmother realized something was wrong, she persevered.

“Emma, honey, what’s wrong?” her mother asked.

“Are you hurt?” her father echoed, immediately standing up and coming towards her.

“No, Dad I’m fine. But Elsa’s been having some visions lately and we all need to be on our guard.”

From there the explanation rolled out as best it could. Emma and Killian spoke candidly about the original attacks, knowing that everyone had varying levels of information about what had happened. Even Emma learned more than she had about Killian’s perception on the other rogue and how the animal was possessed and totally transformed.

“There was no pushing through to his mind. No sense of self, no coherent thought,” Killian explained, his face stony though Emma could tell the memory still rattled him all these years later. “The wolf was manic and brutal and clearly unhinged. I thought of Brennan, because it was the only other time that everything felt wrong about a fellow shifter, but it was different enough that I let it slide. His smell was foul up close, his manners were jerky and heightened. I remember wondering if shifters could get rabies as well as ‘the bite’, because that’s the only think I could think to compare it to.”

“I can’t believe you both went through that,” Emma’s mother said, with tears in her eyes. She was no doubt still eaten up by the guilt of not being there for Emma all those years ago. They’d come to terms with this already, and spoken about it for the most part when Emma told them of Killian’s shifter status, but it probably never got easier as a parent to hear that your child had been in real danger.

“I’ve never heard of a shifter acting like that,” her father said, combing through his medical experience and the countless interactions he’s had with shifters over the years. “Shifters are immune to rabies; they regenerate and heal so quickly that an outside parasite or virus never survives long enough for it to get too bad. The only real sickness I’ve heard of is the one that you’ve both seen.”

Her father looked to Killian and Liam and it went without saying that the sickness in question was alpha sickness. For her part, Emma quietly considered the similarities. That rage and aggression, the want to attack when not actually provoked or threatened. It lined up in some ways, but she’d never seen someone with alpha sickness so out of control. Killian’s stories and memories of his father showed a twisted soul, but the man ultimately had control over himself when he wanted to display it. For Liam too he wasn’t so far gone as to have nothing left, but the wolf they had seen was anchorless, completely consumed with madness in a way that Emma had never experienced before.

“How similar was it to the bite, brother?” Liam asked, his voice clogged with his own twisting emotions.

“In your case? Not so similar. You always held onto who Liam was even with the beast inside. No, this wolf, was completely gone. Like the human and the shifter were erased. It was just animal – feral, primal, and unstoppable. The red of its eyes tells you that too – like the bloodlust of such a being physically cannot be concealed.”

“David, do any shifter species you know of have red eyes?”

“We’ve run through the lists, Mary Margaret,” Ruby said somberly. “Elsa and I each checked our family archives and there’s nothing like this mentioned.”

“Not to devalue the works of your family in any way, honey, but David has been doing this a long time and he has secrets and knowledge a coven of witches could go forever without ever amassing. Species of shifters long thought extinct, other paranormal who’ve kept their whole existence a secret, David has treated them and protected them all.”

“Is this true, Dad?” Emma asked and her father nodded.

“It’s true. I knew a lot as a hunter, but I know at least three times as much now. I probably have a grasp on any magic-adjacent species in the States. Now I’m sure you’ve ruled out mountain lions. You can rule out all the big cats, none of them are really all that red. Is there any chance they eyes are an auburn color? Dingo shifters have auburn eyes. It might explain why you thought it was a wolf.”

“Dingos, like Australia?” Anna asked, temporarily forgetting the crisis at hand and giving into the curiosity they were all sensing.

“Yes, Anna. Remember this is America. We’ve got people and shifters from all over the world. The melting pot exists for all species.”

Emma and Anna shared a look about how awesome that was, but unfortunately it wasn’t the time, and even worse her father’s insight hadn’t actually given them any answers.

“They weren’t auburn. They’re scarlet red, and this was definitely a wolf.”

“Well I’m sorry then, I don’t have any knowledge of a color like that,” David said sadly.

“But I might,” Emma’s grandmother replied, shocking everyone. “I’ve seen a shifter with eyes like that too.”

“Where?” they all asked at once.

“Gold’s compound.”

“I’m sorry… what?” Ruby’s shocked question pretty much summed up exactly how Emma felt at hearing this revelation.

“Gold had a shifter like that in his collection, with red eyes just like you’re describing. I’m sure of it.”

Ruth’s expression took on a pained quality as she recalled the animal in question, and Emma’s heart went out to her. It was hard to tell what exactly brought on the bad feelings. Was it related to this sickened shifter? Or was it all the unknown horror she’d experienced while in Gold’s clutches? Emma didn’t know for sure, but having had the pleasure of getting to know her grandmother recently, Emma knew of her profound empathy. While Ruth was likely suffering her own mental wounds at Gold’s hands, it wouldn’t be outlandish to think that she felt badly for not saving any other beings that might remain in the dark man’s clutches.

“Mom, you don’t have to talk about this,” Emma’s father said, knowing that it would be so difficult for his mother to go back to the headspace. She’d been trapped, and likely experimented on for years. It was invasive and wrong and terrible, but Ruth shook her head, looking determined to tell them all she knew.

“I appreciate you wanting to spare me, son, but if I can help protect this family, then that’s exactly what I aim to do. What do you all want to know?”

“Anything,” Killian said at the same time Elsa pleaded, “Everything.”

“Okay then. Well it was quick, so there isn’t too much to share, really. When I woke up, I struggled to put together what the hell was going on. I was in a room with a lot of trinkets and a lot of clutter, as I’ve told you all before, but amongst all the stuff, oh god, how do I put this delicately? There were, um… displays, I guess you could call them. Exhibits, maybe? All I know is Gold had taken the time to stage a lot of things, and it was clear I wasn’t the only living being that was being held against my will. I was the only human though, at least the only recognizable one, but I saw a lot of things I didn’t understand, and it scared me. I think it’s because as a descendent of hunters I thought I already knew everything the world had to offer. I was in on the big secret, you know? There shouldn’t have been more out there.”

Emma watched her Dad holding his Mom’s hand, offering her support. He swallowed harshly a number of times and it was clearly hard to hear this. It was hard for all of them, but as much as they never wanted to push before, her Grandmother’s memories could be critical for figuring out what the hell these red eyed beasts even were.

“Eventually though I realized that something had happened. I wasn’t supposed to be awake. I didn’t know how long I’d been there, and all I could think was I had to get out. I immediately tried to focus on finding a door or an exit, but I knew Gold must have some sort of mechanisms in place to keep track of his treasures. I kept an eye out for motion sensors or obvious magical fields that might give me away, but I didn’t see any. There were a couple of glowing items or ones that had strange energy if you got too close, so I just avoided them. I walked through this maze of stuff, and then when I got up and moved towards the door, I heard it. A low, menacing snarl that stopped me in my tracks.

“When I looked to the first real open space in the place I saw it – a huge bear, grizzly I think, but it could have just been brown. Either way, I panicked. I couldn’t see any sort of bars separating us and then it charged at me, and all I could see was its glowing red eyes. I’d never seen a bear shifter before, though, so I didn’t know if that was normal. I’d only seen wolves, coyotes, and the occasional mountain lion where I grew up. My brother, George, had mentioned bears before. He told me they were some of the strongest shifters in the world, and that a full-grown grizzly shifter could take down ten unsuspecting humans in under a minute.”

“So how did you get away?” Emma asked, thinking of how terrifying that must have been. The wolf she saw was huge, but bears would be even larger, and with red eyes like that? She honestly couldn’t understand how her grandmother could still be here.

“Right before it reached me, it hit a magical barrier, bouncing off of it hard. But what I noticed was the force field had the same red tint, but with almost a gold finish. It dissolved eventually, but I saw the depths of it and they were the same scarlet color as the eyes looking back at me.”

“Do you think that means something?” Emma asked Ruby and Ruby nodded.

“Magic manifests in different colors, but most witches have a certain signature finish. The gold probably means Gold himself cast the spell. It would better explain his name for sure.”

“But the magic itself was red. Is that common?” Emma asked and Ruby shook her head.

“No. I told you all before red is a rare color in the magical world. The only spells that are a deep and enduring red involve blood magic. Rituals, sacrifices, curses, that kind of thing. They manifest as a crimson color, but there are dark forces being used. The color comes from the blood needed for the magic itself, but from what I’ve read it’s exactly how you’ve all described the eyes so far. God, now it all makes sense! The shifters with the red eyes must be cursed with some sort of magic. I’ve just never heard of any magic used on shifters like that and lasting long term. Shifters tend to have a lot of immunity to spells. It’s like David talked about with illness. We don’t stay cursed for long because our bodies flush whatever is harmful from our systems. It would have to be an insanely strong charm. Gold alone couldn’t cast it.”

“So what are you saying?” Killian asked and Ruby shook her head, like she was trying to sift through her thoughts in a way that made sense even to her.

“I’m saying that this is way bigger than we thought. If it’s magic that’s causing this, it would have to involve the power of dozens of witches.”

“So there’s a whole fleet of bad guys to take down right now, at least if we want to stop these cursed shifters?” Emma clarified, her fear and dread amplifying to an even higher degree.

“Not necessarily. Technically Gold could have taken the magic from other witches in one of his transactions. If he made a deal with a witch, he could collect their powers to use at his own discretion.”

“Could he take magic from pixies or sprites, or is this just a witch to witch thing?” David asked and Ruby looked shocked before stuttering her reply.

“They still exist?” Emma watched her father nod. “Well then yes, technically any magic wielding being could be harvested. Dark magic like that is tricky though. It’s dangerous and untethering. If Gold has managed to do that, he’s so much more of a risk than any of us have ever known.”

“Is that what you see though, Ruby? Because hearing all of this hasn’t given me total clarity like it usually would,” Elsa confessed. “Certain parts make sense – there’s definitely magic tied into this somehow - but I feel like if Gold were so all-powerful I’d have sensed him. He’s never been in the dreams, it’s always just been the animals and me. I don’t know… it just doesn’t feel quite right.”

Everyone took Elsa’s words with all of the care and attention that they deserved. After all, Elsa was the vessel for any of their awareness of what might be coming their way. Her instincts were second to none, and Emma knew that even if it wasn’t all adding up, she would always side with Elsa’s gut over another theory. Still, it was best for all of them to be prepared for any scenario and to do everything they could to find out more.

The conversation continued with everyone trying to think of what they could do next. Who could they consult, and where could they look for answers? It was a tricky thing, but it seemed their only real lead for now was Gold. But before Emma could get pulled into the logistics of tracking him down, her phone rang, chiming out the sound of an incoming video call. Strange – nearly everyone she ever spoke with on the phone was here, but then Emma saw it was her little brother calling and she grew even more curious. He was coming home from camp in just a few more days and he didn’t usually call her, especially not when there were activities keeping him and the other campers busy all day. Immediately she could sense something was wrong.

“Hi Neal, you doing ok?” Emma asked as the call connected, but when her brother’s face appeared, she could tell he was troubled by something.

“I don’t know, Emma. Something really weird just happened. Some random guy came up to me just now outside.”

“Where are you, are you safe?” Emma asked before waving her parents over to her. When her Mother saw Emma’s little brother on the screen, she grew immediately more agitated.

“I’m back in the main building again, in a room next to our robotics lab. I told my counselor I had to talk to you and she said it was okay to come in here for a few minutes.”

“What happened?” Emma asked.

“Well, I was walking back from our room for our afternoon session with Jackson,” Emma looked to her father who mouthed ‘roommate’ to her. “But then Jackson forgot his ipad and had to run back for it. I kept walking so I wouldn’t be late, and a few moments later this older guy came up to me and just started talking. It was like he was waiting for me; he knew my name and everything.”

“What did he try to talk to you about?”

“About you and me.” She and Neal? What the hell?!

“What did he say exactly?” Her father asked and Neal recited the conversation back with authority.

“He said, ‘I’ve wondered a long while what you would be like.’ I told him I had to go because I got a bad feeling from him, but he stood in my path and wouldn’t move. I was going to call for help or something, but there was suddenly no one around, and then he just kept talking. He said I was meant to be ‘unyielding and unfailing,’ that I should have been a ‘true Nolan hunter if I wasn’t what I was’ whatever that means.”

“Did he say anything else?” Emma asked, not following what they’re being descended from hunters had to do with anything here. Gold knew of that obviously, because of the deal he made with her grandmother, but was that really relevant somehow?

“Yeah, he said that you and I were meant for so much more. Then he talked about my getting sick – I don’t know exactly what he was getting at, it didn’t all make sense. He was kind of talking in circles, and I didn’t follow him at all. But the last thing he said was that you, Emma, were the last hope but that you made the wrong choice.”

Emma was so frazzled as to all of this that she didn’t know how to process anything that was said. Who the heck was this person? And most importantly, was it safe for Neal to stay there anymore? She didn’t think so, and neither did her Dad who ducked into the house, coming out a moment later with his keys in hand after her Mom had taken over the call, trying to get details about what the man looked like.

“Neal, I want you to stay with your counselor no matter what. If that man comes back you call the police immediately. I’m coming to get you, I’ll be there soon.”

“Dad it’s okay, I’m fine,” her brother said, but Emma wasn’t so sure. He looked really relieved at the thought of their Dad coming to get him.

“No, Neal, we’re coming,” Emma’s mother confirmed. “I know it’s a few days early, but it’s for the best. Now please can you bring the phone to your counselor, I’d like to talk to her.”

While her mother continued to talk to whoever was in charge at Neal’s program, Emma and her father moved to the others. They were quickly filled in that there had been an incident, but Emma was surprised by her father’s response to it all. “Killian, Liam, and Graham, I’d feel better if you all came with us.”

“Are you sure, David? If it’s Gold one of the girls should go,” her grandmother offered. “Elsa or Ruby would be better able to track him.”

“No, Mom. This isn’t Gold. It’s George.”

“David, you can’t possibly know that-,”

“Why do you think it’s your Uncle?” Emma asked, ignoring her grandmother’s protest because she knew it stemmed more from fear than any actual proof. All it took was one look in grandma Ruth’s direction to know that the mention of her brother truly rattled her.

“It’s the way he talked about the hunters. He used a closely guarded family phrase, one even you don’t know, Mom. Gold wouldn’t ever have access to that because they weren’t even in your memories. It has to be George, and if he’s come for my son, I need the strongest people with us, just in case.”

“Okay, I told Neal’s counselor there’s been a family emergency and warned her that your Uncle might come back but that he’s not a stable man.”

“You knew it was him?” Emma asked and her mother nodded.

“He used the Nolan words.”

Emma should have known that her father would never have secrets from her mother. Of course she knew everything, and Mary Maragert’s memory was a great and powerful thing. But whatever her mother’s many strengths may be, she was ill fit for the quarrel and Emma’s father told her that, remaining adamant that she not come.

“You need to stay here, Mary Margaret.”

“David, I am not staying here! We are going to get our son and that’s that.”

“No it isn’t. I will get Neal, I promise you I will protect him from this, but I need to know you and Emma are safe. The house is prepared for a situation like this. I didn’t know if he’d ever find us, but I planned it out just in case. We’ll be back in just a few hours, but I can’t -,” her father’s voice broke in anguish. “I can’t risk you or Emma coming along for this. It’s too dangerous.”

Emma fully expected her mother to rebuke this request from her Dad, but there was no denying that David was doing everything in his power to protect them. Ultimately Emma trusted her Dad. If he said that her Uncle was threatening, she believed him, and though she hated to stay behind and wait, she also knew that being there would make her a liability. She was still a new shifter and she was too close to this emotionally. And her mother, bright and capable as she may be, was human, with no training and no powers to fall back on.

“You bring our boy back to me, David. You bring him back, and you bring yourself back. There’s no other option. This family will stay together, do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he replied, pulling Mary Margaret in for a quick kiss and sharing a silent moment with her. At the same time Killian took Emma’s hand in his, drawing her attention back to him. Her heart leapt into her throat. She was worried about how dangerous this might be, but the look in his eyes was completely assured and steadfast.

“I’ll be back before you even have chance to miss me,” Killian whispered and Emma shook her head, fending off tears caused by her lingering anxiety.

“Not possible,” she replied pulling him in by the cloth of his shirt. “Be safe, okay?”

“Always, love.”

With a last gentle kiss, Emma watched her mate, her father, and the others leave, knowing that she wouldn’t feel even a shred of peace until they were back again. Looking to Elsa and Ruby, she knew they felt similarly, but her mother was the one hurting the most. The tears Emma had tried to fight spilled over on her mother’s cheeks, but Mary Margaret wiped them away quickly, unwilling to give into the riotous emotions. Emma did the only thing she could think to make it better, she hugged her Mom and made a promise of her own.

“It’s going to be okay, Mom. I love you”

“I love you too, Emma. Always, always, always.”

With that, there was nothing left to do but wait and trust that everything would be okay in the end, and in the meantime they all had many questions still to answer. With three new threats on the horizon and no way of knowing who or what might strike first, they were all at a standstill. That was debilitating, but it also motivated all of them to stand together and try to fight the only way they could – through scouring their memories and resources for clues.

………………….

Standing in the clearing he’d scoped out on the edge of this all-too-quaint town of Storybrooke, he couldn’t help but feel like victory was already in his grasp. The plan was perfect and the stage was set. It was nearly time for resolution after so many years of waiting, and he grinned at the thought that the light and the hopeful magic surrounding this place would soon be extinguished. Gone were the days of peace and calm in this little town in Maine. A reckoning was here, and he would be the one to bring it.

The buzzing of his phone alerted him to the call he was awaiting. He hated these blasted things, but now and then they served their purpose. He answered without preface, only seeking one answer of any merit. “Is it done?”

“Yes. It went exactly as you said it would.”

“Good.”

Hanging up, he broke the phone into pieces and tossed it in the shallow waters of the river bed beside him. He had no use for it anymore. All he had to do was wait. A little more time and they’d be in the clear, a little more time and the moment he’d yearned for would truly arrive.

Waiting in the silence would phase many others, but he didn’t think of them as he stood there in the quiet. They were nothing to him, lacking in vision and smarts and everything that made him worthy. It was him and him alone with the power and the brains to complete this. He may have made some deals along the way, but the glory of this would belong to him. The pride he felt at that was all he clung to, and he disregarded any past missteps that led him here. This was a war and not a battle, and thanks to the element of surprise, he was certain that this war was about to end decidedly in his favor.

“It’s time,” he said aloud finally, knowing no one could here him, save the monster in his keep. With assured movements he walked to the cage where the beast resided, looking the bear in the eyes with another wicked grin. “Find the girl and her companions. Spare none of them, and when that’s over take the rest of the town as well.”

With one last burst of locks and mechanisms, the bear was freed and looked liable to let out a loud roar and charge its master, but the collar that it wore restricted that urge. It compelled this animal to do what it was meant for, and with a last menacing look, the bear charged in the direction of the Nolans and their extended brood, destined to cause a destruction the likes that none of them had ever seen before.

Post- Note: I know that so many of you are going to be so mad at me for this cliff hanger and trust me, I am just as mad at myself! But there’s so much that has to happen it can’t all fit in one chapter. I PROMISE there will be resolution in the next installment, and I also promise that you’ll forgive me in the end for this. However, truthfully I’m not fully sure when the next chapter will be published. It’s so hectic right now with school and my traveling that I have still a little more writing and editing to do before I actually post. But please trust that I will do my best to get you the next chapter and put you all out of your misery ASAP. Thank you so much for reading and hope you’ll tune in next time!

Taglist: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @teamhook @ultraluckycatnd @resident-of-storybrooke @artistic-writer @snowbellewells @allofdafandoms-blog

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allisondraste · 5 years ago

Text

Temperance (21/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary: Did someone say Denerim?

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

Denerim, 9:31 Dragon

It was a day’s journey from Vigil’s Keep to Denerim, far too brief of a journey for Nathaniel to properly untangle his thoughts and consider what he might actually say when he found Liss. That is, if she would hear it. For all the wonderful memories he had of her, the one that planted itself at the forefront of his mind, permanent and painful, was the moment he’d said goodbye. How her tears had dampened his shirt, stubborn arms clinging to him even as he tore himself away. She asked him to write, but he hadn’t. A stupid, selfish choice that he justified because it was the only way he knew how to cope with the emotional equivalent of losing a limb.

“There it is,” Lucia spoke up from beside him following a pensive and shaky sigh and he followed the line of her arm to see the walls of the capital sprawling before them.

Nathaniel nodded, but said nothing. It comforted him, at least, that she looked as apprehensive as he felt. Despite hours on the road together, talking about a great number of things, Lucia had not said a word about what she sought in Denerim. If their conversation on the battlements had been any indication, her circumstances were vaguely similar to his own.

“The last time I traveled to Denerim, it was on fire and under siege by the darkspawn.” She stiffened, fists clenched at her sides. “The archdemon awaited me a the top of Fort Drakon.”

“Let me guess. You expected this time to be easier, but it’s not.”

“I would prefer to face the dragon again, I think.” Lucia gave a sad half-smile, and shook her head. “As ridiculous as that sounds.”

“Facing a dragon is simple, predictable, with a very clear goal,” Nathaniel replied and Lucia eyed him curiously. He continued with a smirk despite her furrowed brows. “It’s much more complicated to face yourself and the consequences of your decisions.”

“It would seem your personal business in the city is such that you would prefer to face a dragon as well,” she stated, astute as ever. He’d expected her to forget that he had his own reasons for the trip. He almost wished she would have.

“I would rather face a legion of dragons,” he admitted with a sigh, and dropped his head. Lucia tapped him briefly on the arm, and he looked up just in time to see her smile and walk past him.

“We’ve prolonged the inevitable long enough,” she said decisively, glancing back at him over her shoulder, “With luck, dragons will swoop down and end our misery.”

Nathaniel snorted gracelessly, following behind her. “I hope you’re joking.”

It was well into the evening when they arrived in the city, vibrant rays of sunset hovering above, and yet Denerim still teemed with life, children running about outside in fur cloaks, breath visible in the air as their parents told them to come inside. The merchants in the square called for their final sales of the evening and began to put away their wares as guards walked about changing shifts and relieving their comrades. The energetic buzz fell silent as Lucia and Nathaniel passed by, children and parents, merchants and guards alike standing as statues with their mouths agape. Cries of “That’s her!” and “The Hero of Ferelden is back!” rang out clearly from the silent crowds, and Lucia just nodded politely before tugging at the hood of her cloak and pulling it up to cover her face.

Anonymity would not be an option for them, it seemed, and Nathaniel began to scan the alleys and tops of buildings for would-be assassins and vigilantes. There were sure to be those who still wished Lucia harm. Nothing suspicious caught his eye, but he remained wary until they reached the palace, but said nothing of his concern for her. She had enough on her mind already. The Queen herself had received news of their arrival, and she waited in the throne room to greet them. He was impressed and appalled by the speed with which word traveled through the capital.

A set of heavy wooden doors opened into the throne room where Anora sat, posture erect and proper, at the far end of the room. She stood when she noticed Nathaniel and Lucia and began to approach them, leaving her guards behind to grumble about her safety. She looked just as she had when they were children, pretty as a flower, but far less delicate. He had never questioned why Liss admired her as she did.

“Warden-Commander,” she exclaimed, “This is a pleasant, if not unexpected surprise.” She paused, her eyes darting toward Nathaniel, an amused expression spreading across her face.

“It has been some time, Your Majesty,” he said fondly.

“Indeed it has.” Anora nodded and looked down, eyes scanning his armor. “You are a Grey Warden now?”

“Apparently,” he answered with a shrug, glancing over at Lucia, “The commander saved me from the gallows. I owe her my life.”

“Don’t we all?” She offered him a sorrowful, understanding smile. Her father was a traitor, too, and she undoubtedly knew all too well what he meant. Anora turned her attention back to Lucia, face hardening. “I presume you did not travel to the capital to exchange pleasantries.”

“No, Your Majesty.” Lucia looked down at the grey stone floor beneath her, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Never before had she seemed so young and inexperienced than she did now standing before the Queen of Ferelden. “I am here to see Alistair.”

Anora frowned, eyes filled with sympathy that crackled in her voice when she spoke. “Alistair is… not in Denerim at the moment.”

“Oh,” Lucia remarked softly, seeming to crumple under the weight of disappointment. Nathaniel didn’t know who Alistair was, but he was clearly important to her, she had built herself up for this moment, and he wasn’t there. He felt for her.

“He and Lady Cousland –” Anora glanced at Nathaniel, with a subtle yet knowing expression– “left for Highever yesterday morning. It was not to be a long trip, but I am not certain when he will return. Of course, you both are welcome to stay in the palace in the meantime.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Nathaniel said, bowing his head briefly, a display of reverence he hoped was suitable to her.

She nodded in response and quickly ordered for servants to show the two of them to their rooms before excusing herself for the evening. Lucia sighed, staring off at the far wall morosely, as they waited.

“Are you all right?” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped slightly before looking at him.

“No,” she answered, voice hoarse and cracking as tears fell from her eyes. “I’m not.”

Nathaniel had never seen the woman cry before, and he was at a loss for how to console her. He settled upon giving her a few gentle pats on the shoulder, letting his hand rest there for a moment. Just as he released her shoulder, Lucia turned suddenly and embraced him tightly, both arms around his waist as she sobbed into his chest. He tensed, shocked by the abrupt and unexpected contact, but eased and returned the hug. He did not need to know her situation to understand how she felt. Liss wasn’t present either, and it was all he could do to hold it together.

By the time Nathaniel saw Lucia again, the next afternoon at an impromptu meeting called by Queen Anora to discuss the situation in Amaranthine, she had completely composed herself and it was as if she were unaffected at all. He didn’t know how she managed. She apologized for her “embarrassing” behavior the night before, and requested that they keep her breakdown between the two of them. He gave her his word, but assured her that she did nothing wrong all the same.

The meeting with the queen lasted just long enough for them to recount the tale of the sentient darkspawn in Amaranthine and explain the decision to torch the city. She agreed that it was a prudent decision, but was uncertain that she could convince the Landsmeet to believe the same. It was not ideal, but it was better than the Wardens having the ire of the crown. When the meeting adjourned, Nathaniel and Lucia both stood and turned to leave.

“Nathaniel,” Anora called out, and he stopped, just as he reached out to pull open the door.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I’d like to speak with you alone for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

Nathaniel looked at Lucia who shrugged, nodded, and exited the room, letting the door close behind her. He walked back toward the center of the room and sat down in a chair directly across from Anora. She pulled open one of the drawers to her desk, took something out of it, and rose to her feet.

“I have some information about your brother,” she stated, her words hesitant.

“I know,” Nathaniel said, dropping his head, “Thomas died at Ostagar.”

Anora’s brows pressed together in a stern expression and she walked around her desk with what appeared to be a sealed envelope in hand. She extended it to Nathaniel. “This is for you.”

Nathaniel blinked, confused, but took the envelope from her hands. It was unaddressed and the seal bore no crest or other insignia. “Whatㄧ”

“You should read it,” Anora urged, and stepped back around to sit behind her desk.

Nathaniel broke open the seal and pulled out what appeared to be a letter addressed to him.

Dear Nate, Surprise! I’m not dead. I know, I know. You aren’t amused, but stop scowling; it’s rude (That’s what Delilah says, isn’t it?). I apologize that things had to be this way, but when I managed to survive Ostagar and when I heard what Father had done, I didn’t want to go back. His was not a legacy I ever wanted, no matter how much he pushed it on me, and I especially want no part in it now. I fled the country and asked Queen Anora for help. She signed off on my death record, so now I’m free.

I am living in Antiva right now, working for some merchant’s guild. As it turns out, I am actually quite good at selling things. Perhaps I’ll make a career of it. Who knows! I’m much more well-suited to it than I ever was to fighting or running an arling. I’d much rather be “common rabble,” as Father would have called it, than to be forced into an oppressive marriage and pretend to be someone who I’m not for the rest of my life.

I’ve stopped drinking. I thought you would be proud of me for that.

I always said that it was just something I did for fun, but Delilah was right. It was how I coped with all of the shit father put us through. I’m not as strong as you or resilient as Delilah, and it was all I knew how to do.

I am happy here, truly. I’ve met people who I trust, and made a few close friends. One of them actually moved to Denerim a few months ago, when the Blight ended. She’s a former assassin fleeing the Crows with the help of some Zevran person. She helped me get my letters to the queen. Bria is her name. I think she’s working as a blacksmith, or something. She did not say exactly when she left. Should you ever need to contact me, you will need to see her.

Nate, I know it will be hard, but please don’t tell Delilah about this. She will just insist on finding me, and it’s not safe. I might be found out. It might implicate the queen. It’s messy, and I know you’ll feel guilty, but I trust you. You’re the only person I’ve ever really trusted.

I love you brother, and I miss you. I hope that you are well.

Sincerely, Thomas

P.S. Please destroy this letter after you read it. I wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.

Nathaniel laughed in disbelief as he finished the letter. Tom had survived after all, and was now free to live the life he always wanted. It’d be a hard secret to keep, but one that he was grateful for knowing. His family wasn’t quite as broken as he thought. Holding the letter, he stood and walked to the fireplace that burned on the far side of the room. He dropped the parchment into the flames and watch as it dissolved into ash before turning to face Anora once again.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, voice hoarse with emotion, “I’m certain that whatever I could come up with wouldn’t be good enough.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him, staring into the flames for several moments. “When I first took the throne, just months ago, I believed that it was my duty to atone for my father’s crimes. I thought that I would forever bear the weight of his decisions, suffer in his stead. I have made so many apologies I could not count them.

“Then, when I offered my reparations to the Couslands, to Elissa and Fergus, for what was done to them with my father’s approval, they told me I owed them nothing, and that we should learn from the sins of our fathers rather than suffer from them.”

“The Couslands are good people, Your Majesty.” Nathaniel nodded.

“Indeed.” She grinned widely. “I just thought that I should share that with you. I am uncertain how you are handling the news of what your father did, but I think your family doesn’t need to be forever tainted by his actions. Thomas deserves his happiness, as does Delilah, and yourself.”

“Thank you, again, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing more formally this time, “For everything.”

Nathaniel left the queen’s office, head buzzing with everything that had transpired in such a short span of time, and uncertain how to process it all. He was still filled with overwhelming dread at the thought of facing Liss, but it was muted by the excitement about his brother, and his gratefulness to Anora. He decided that he would see how his companion was faring, and then make a trip to the market, if for no other reason than to distract himself.

When he reached the door to the guest room designated for Lucia, he lightly rapped his knuckles against the wood. He heard shuffling noises from the other side, followed by an, “Is that Nathaniel?”

“Yes.”

“You can just come in.”

Nathaniel did as she said, pushed down on the knob, and entered the room. At first glance, he could not see Lucia, then he noticed her sitting on the floor by the bed, cross-legged with a quill and small journal in hand. She dipped the quill in an inkwell at her side and brought it up to drag it across the paper in hurried, yet smooth lines.

“I haven’t quite mastered drawing with ink,” she remarked as she squinted and furrowed her brows, examining her work thus far, “But there wasn’t any charcoal available, so I made do.”

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he observed, as he walked over to stand beside her, peering down at her work. “That looks like King Maric, when he was younger.”

Lucia laughed and looked up at him. “Well it’s good to know I captured the family resemblance.”

“It’s Cailan, then?”

“Alistair.”

“Alistair,” Nathaniel repeated, “You said that name yesterday. Is he the bastard who Arl Eamon tried to put on the throne?”

She nodded. “Yes, and if you mention it to him, he won’t shut up about it. He was upset by the whole affair.”

“You seem fond of him, but I don’t think I’ve heard you mention him before.”

“I haven’t.” Lucia inhaled a shaky breath. “Yesterday was the first time I had said his name out loud since I left for Amaranthine. I thought that if I ignored the pain, it would just go away. As it turns out, I just habituated to hurting.”

Nathaniel understood more than he was willing to admit. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing for the past nine years? Pretending his feelings didn’t exist?

“I should have written to him, but I didn’t,” she added, closing the journal, and setting it to her side with the quill and inkwell. “I’m not even sure why.”

“Willful illiteracy,” Nathaniel remarked dryly. That had been his own experience.

“That’s it!” Lucia laughed and rose to her feet, picking up her art supplies and setting them on the desk before turning back to face Nathaniel. “How was the meeting with Anora?” “Good. We just talked about our families.”

“I suppose you two have much in common now. In an unfortunate way.”

“We do.”

There was a brief pause, and then Lucia shook her head and brought her eyes up to meet Nathaniel’s. “I’m sure you came here for a reason. What did you need?”

“I’m heading to the Market District, a distraction. I thought I’d see if you wanted to come.”

“I’d like that.”

Late afternoon in the Market District was even busier than it had been in the early evening. People milled about, some busying themselves with the kiosks in the center of the square, others wandering from shop to shop, browsing wares. A dwarven merchant shouted something about “Dwarven Crafts” so many times that Nathaniel could reasonably predict when he would say it again. Patrons stood outside the tavern, chatting with one another. It seemed that the people of Denerim had gotten over their initial shock of seeing the Hero of Ferelden, as a few watched her with admiration, but did not interfere or impose in any other way. Most people just carried on as usual.

They visited several shops, passing by the smithy several times. Had Lucia not been along, he might have introduced himself to the woman his brother mentioned in the letter. Perhaps another time. Lucia ended up purchasing several things, including a fewl large, empty flasks she intended to use to experiment with a new potion, as well as some charcoal. She must have decided against practicing with ink.

As late afternoon turned to evening they made their way back to the palace, Lucia insisting on carrying her own things despite Nathaniel’s offer to help her. He assured her that he knew she could carry the things on her own, but that she did not have to. She refused nonetheless. They reached the main door to the palace that opened into the sprawling vestibule. Nathaniel grabbed the handle to the door, pulling it open for Lucia. As he held the door, he heard a loud clatter and rushed inside.

“Is everything all r-”

Lucia stood just in front of the door, surrounded by shards of shattered glass from having dropped the bags to the floor. He nearly grumbled at her about refusing his help, but he noticed that her eyes were locked on something at the far end of the room. He snapped his head in that direction to see what had so captivated her.

It was a lovely young couple that stood across from them, arms wrapped around one another affectionately, and the kiss they shared was rather chaste and brief, like a kiss to say goodnight, or goodbye. The man, he thought, looked rather melancholy, a frown on his face as he pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck. The woman, well, she was Liss, and needless to say, Nathaniel understood why Lucia had dropped her things.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #nathaniel howe #nathaniel howe x cousland #cousland #howesland #temperance #update #my writing #i'm prepared to be hollered at #i already know #i deserve it #it's really late but I couldn't stop writing

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