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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years ago

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The Dark Passenger - Chapter Four.

A little light reading for the weekend, besties :) and thank you so much for all the interest in this so far. It makes me so happy to read your comments!

Previous chapters - One Two Three

Words - 3,247

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

Beauty by Trudi. It was a simple enough name to remember, and EZ had stored the information in the file in his brain marked Camille, after she’d shared with him that was the name of the salon she worked at during the day.

On one afternoon at a loose end, just over a week after he’d last seen her, he rode down to the location, hoping he was in time to catch her. The opening hours were 9am to 4pm, EZ entering the street at 3:52pm.

Camille was just finishing applying a fresh coat of polish on the new acrylics she’d applied for her customer when she heard the roar of a Harley outside, looking up and feeling her heart somersault when she viewed EZ parking up across the street. She’d honestly expected him to return to the club to seek her out, rather than turn up at her daytime workplace, but she was thrilled all the same that he actually had. It showed attentiveness, that he’d remembered where she worked.

“Okay, here’s your appointment card and I'll see you next week, Marilyn,” she spoke, her customer handing over her payment as well as a ten-dollar tip for her.

“Have a great week, hon.” Turning to leave, she had the door held open for her by the enormous guy coming in, giving him a very approving look as she passed by, EZ only focused on the beauty behind the counter.

“Surprise,” he spoke, beaming his megawatt smile full of charm, watching as she visibly melted, trying to look cool, but failing.

“Isn’t it just?” she began, leaning her forearms on the counter as she pedalled her feet up and down, her legs tired from racing around between the treatment rooms all day. “Thank you for my flowers, by the way. They were gorgeous.”

Leaning in, he kissed her softly. “Just like you, then.” Another kiss followed. “So, I was hoping to find you with no plans for tonight. You don’t usually work of a Monday evening, do you?”

She shook her head, her smile brightening as she straightened up a little, turning the answering machine on and switching the card machine off. Trudi was still in with a client, so she’d lock up. “I’m pleased to say you find me at a loose end.”

“Good,” he smiled, “so, do you wanna go for a drink or something?”

A drink or something. That sounded good. Deciding to leave her car at work in the secure parking lot to the rear of the premises, she hopped on his bike behind him, EZ taking them to a nice bar a few blocks away. As soon as they entered, she couldn’t help but notice how the patrons all looked up at him with a certain amount of trepidation, the Mayans kutte seeming to precede him in some way, although she didn’t know how when they were just a motorcycle club.

She knew that his position held him in a certain high status of power, but in her naivety, she truly had no idea over the kind of clout EZ had, being the president of such, or how dark and twisted the roots that planted him into the criminal underworld truly were. In fact, she had no idea at all.

“Why is everyone staring at you?” she asked as they sat at a table, taking a sip of her rum and diet Coke, EZ swigging from his beer bottle, which he held in a fashion she had never witnessed before.

“Because I just walked in here with Pamela Anderson’s double.” He winked, Camille blushing, waving her hand dismissively.

“Stop,” she blushed. “I get that all the time, but I think I look more like the girl who played her in that TV show recently, well, a lesser pretty version.”

“What, who also looked uncannily like her after all the makeup and whatnot?” he teased.

She poked his arm, her cheeks colouring further. “Hush! I am so not that gorgeous!”

“You’re either blind or a fan of false modesty,” he put to her, Camille shrugging. He knew underneath, though, that what she said was the absolute truth. She didn’t truly see just how stunning she was. “Because come on, Camille. Seriously. You’re a knockout.”

She shrugged, sipping her drink, EZ pressing. “Did someone tell you that you aren’t, and it’s stuck with you? If it’s those girls at the club, the ones that look at you with nothing but envy because you’re the most attractive woman in there, then you have to know that it’s exactly that; envy.”

Taking a breath, she turned a little, shuffling her chair closer to the table, but keeping one arm crossed over her chest, the other fiddling with the straw in her drink. EZ read her body language very clearly, guarding herself over a subject that caused her discomfort, one he intended to chip away at. “I mean, yeah, there’s a lot of that at the club, and I know it’s to try and bring my confidence down, but my ex-boyfriend wasn’t the kindest about my looks, and I used to get bullied in school.”

He leaned in closer, resting a comforting hand to her arm, halting her fiddling. It was a gesture designed to soothe her, although it lacked sincerity from his point of view. “What did they say?”

“My ex said that I was too skinny and flat chested, so I started hitting the gym to get a little muscle growth, then came the implants as that was something I was teased about in school, only having A cup breasts. I went up to an E and immediately felt more confident. He hated them and told me I looked like a freak, but presumed I’d done it for him, and really, I hadn’t. I did it for me. As for the kids in school, oh god, the works. Everything was wrong with me. The texture of my hair, my forehead being too big, I had horse teeth, my nose was too pointy. It was a lot. I was glad to see the back of the place.”

It was clear that she still believed a lot of it, too, EZ saw, offering words of reassurance. He did actually mean them, too. He was giving them for a different reason than to simply be magnanimous, though. “You know all of that is complete bullshit, don’t you? Bringing someone down is what people who feel inferior about themselves do. It doesn’t mean it’s true.”

She looked up at him, her eyes a little sad, cocking her head. “Doesn’t it?”

He leaned across the table, kissing her, nuzzling her nose with his. “No, it doesn’t.”

She beamed, kissing him once more. “You make me feel very good about myself, you know.”

“Good,” he chirped. “I mean to.” And he did. For now. Just then, he received a phone call, excusing himself. “Hey B, what’s up?” Camille watched him as he spoke, EZ listening to whatever the person on the other end was telling him, making little noises in his throat. “Yeah, yeah I think he should be there. His phone has been playing up, so call Gilly or something. Alright, see you soon. Bye.” Hanging up, he placed his cell back in his pocket. “My sister-in-law, looking for my brother.”

“Oh, you have a brother?” she asked with interest. “Younger or older?”

“Older by five years.”

“And are you Uncle EZ, do he and his wife have any kids?” she then asked, curious to know more about his life, since he’d been a little cagey thus far.

“Nah, not yet. His wife is a musician, she’s very career driven. They got married two years ago, her band signed with a record label three months later, and that was it, they recorded an album and she’s virtually been on this tour or that ever since. Well, I’m exaggerating, but she is away more often these days.”

“What’s the band called? I’m curious to know if I’ve ever heard of them.”

“Heavenly Creature,” EZ confirmed, Camille shaking her head.

“No, I haven’t, but I’ll be sure to check them out so I can be complimentary, if there comes a time when I meet her,” she spoke, EZ nodding.

“Well, she’s back for a few months now, as far as I know, so yeah there’s every chance you will. I think you’ll like her, Bella’s very gregarious,” he confirmed, smiling. He thought a great deal of his sister-in-law, and did miss her when she wasn’t around. He mainly missed the fact that his brother was way less of a pain in the ass when he was getting regular sex. “And she’ll love you, I can just tell.”

“Really?” Tucking her hair behind her ear, she took a sip of her drink, EZ reaching for her hand, stroking her delicate fingers with his thumb. “How so?”

“Because you’re a cutie, inside and out. That’s why.” His words, coupled by a wink made her heart flutter. For the rest their time there, he went to great lengths to deliberately let her see him as someone who was nothing but supportive, on her side, wanting to boost her confidence, and Camille ate it up, feeling brilliant about herself by the time they exited.

“So, what do you want to do next?” she asked, halting him outside of the bar.

“What do I want to do next, she asks,” he began, leaning down to her, moving the tumbling cascade of blonde curls to begin kissing her neck. “Hmmm.” They fell into syrupy kisses then, EZ reaching to squeeze her butt. “There’s no telling you, I don’t think. Only showing.”

As soon as they returned to her place, he showed her. Oh, heavens how he showed her.

“Oh, oh EZ, you’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard!” Her cry was feral, the saturated mess of her core in spasm around the two fingers that drove into it, fingertips pressing firmly against her g spot, his huge arm flexing in effort.

When it hit her, a hailstorm of pleasure prickling her fluttering walls, she gasped into their molten kisses, flattening him onto his back, wrestling with his jeans, the only item of clothing he was left in.

“Oh, does someone need my cock?”

The look she gave him in reply to his casually delivered question made magma sizzle through him, Camille throwing his jeans and boxers into the floor. “I’ve been dying to ride this gorgeous, fat cock again for days.” She finally purred, opening her nightstand drawer and pulling out a condom, EZ catching her wrist in a light grasp.

“Seriously, do I have any reason to wear one? You’re all good with me, baby.”

She shook her head. “No, and I’m on the pill.”

“Good,” he groaned, his finger’s clutching around her delicate neck, his grip pulsing softly. “Then get on me, let me feel you.” She sank down on him, his face contorting in bliss, a deep rumble echoing his chest. “Fuck, that perfect little pussy feels so damned good.”

She watched him intently as she rode him into the bed, his hands gripping her waist as she bounced on his cock, feeling it hit her deep, scraping sparks through her, coaxing soft little cries from her as she stroked the beautiful mass of muscles beneath her. He was about the most gorgeous man she’d ever been with.

“You feel that?” he panted, hands gliding down over her body.

“What, how much better it always feels without condoms?”

He shook his head. “No. Well, that too, but what I meant was the amazing connection we have going on. Because we really do, don’t we?”

She nodded, EZ reaching to pull her flat against his chest, kissing her heatedly, hands roaming down her back as they grinded together in perfect sync, Camille feeling her tummy fluttering with butterflies. He felt exactly what she did, too, and her insides soared. Sitting back up again, she trailed her nails down his chest, overcome at how amazing he felt within her as she arched her back and bounced upon him with vigour, teasing a trail of expletives from deep in his throat.

“God damn, baby, you ride dick so fucking well.” he gritted, clutching her waist as she pressed her heels into the bed, resting her hands on his hard thighs as she leaned back, giving him the amazing view of the petals of her cunt splayed around him, his cock soaked in a thick gleam of her arousal.

Their evening was spent having rounds of heated sex all over her house, the couch taking a good battering, the lounge floor, the kitchen too after they’d paused to make coffee, a rest period entered when she ordered them a pizza for dinner, sitting and eating it while chatting casually and half watching the movie The Usual Suspects, a common ground they both found they had. In their mind, anything with Benicio del Torro in it was more than worth watching.

As soon as they’d finished, he had her back in bed again, pounding her into the mattress, Camille falling into dreamy sleep at just gone midnight. When she awoke at 7am to the blare of her alarm, lamentably once again it was to an empty bed. But, he had left her a note.

‘You look so gorgeous when you sleep, and I would have stayed and waited for you to wake up, but I had an early start. Hope you have a good day, and I’ll see you soon. EZ x.’

She smiled, placing the note back atop her dresser, pulling out her underwear. It was kind of exciting to her, that she had no way of knowing when he’d pop back up in her world again, although she found it a little frustrating that she had no way of contacting him. She made a mental note for them to actually exchange phone numbers when she saw him next. Of course, though, she found herself analysing it throughout the day, wondering if it truly was the case that being left hanging on him turning up in her life again was exciting, or if there was more to it.

“I’m calling it; he’s married,” Mai voiced in her usual, abrupt fashion, after Camille had revealed her dilemma to both her and Tallulah over lunch later that afternoon, her half day at the salon meaning she got to have a nice afternoon of rest before she had to be in at The Luna Lounge at 6pm.

Married? Gosh, she’d never even considered that. It stunned her, too, the fact that it was entirely plausible.

“He doesn’t wear a ring, though.” As soon as the words had left her lips, Camille smacked herself internally. God, how stupid did that sound?

“We all know rings come off, baby,” Mai scoffed, Tallulah nodding.

“I have to say, it does fit. You go back to your place, not his, and the twice it’s happened, he never leaves his number, or thinks to ask for yours. Methinks there’s a wife at home who goes through his phone on the regular.” Twirling spaghetti around her fork, Tallulah cocked her head to the side, reaching for Camille’s hand. “Aw, button. You really like him, don’t you?”

Button. She called her that because of her cute little button nose. It always made her feel warm, since her nose was just one of the things her school bullies had teased her about. Resting her turkey club sandwich back on the plate, she nodded. “I do. He’s gentlemanly, attentive, kind, respectful, absolutely amazing in bed, and I just like being around him.”

“He nearly tore that jerk who grabbed you a new A, too,” Tallulah interjected with.

“That, too.” Camille couldn’t discount that.

“But there’s a Mrs MC president out there, you mark my words, and those bitches are fucking frightening, from what I’ve heard,” Mai boomed, aggressively dunking her fries into the pot of ketchup, cussing in her native language when two snapped. Although her parents were second generation Japanese immigrants, they still felt it important that Mai and her two sisters learn their mother tongue. She enjoyed it for the swears mostly.

“Why are they?” she questioned, picking up a piece of cucumber that had fallen from her sandwich and popping it into her mouth. “I mean, they’re just a motorcycle enthusiasts club.”

Mai and Tallulah shared wide eyes as Camille shrugged, the former sipping her soda before she spoke. “Oh, baby cakes. How much you have to learn.”

Still, she was baffled. “But that’s what he told me.”

Picking up her phone, Mai entered Mayans MC into Google, hitting search, calling up a webpage that offered a look at the history of the club. “Because they’re all criminals, despite what he might have told you. And this new guy of yours, or whatever he is, he’s the big boss, the president of our town’s charter. Okay so that might be cool in some respects, being his side piece, it’d make you untouchable, but shit, I bet his old lady is ferocious. You have to be a hardened woman, to be married to one of these fellas and live that life.”

“So, you definitely think he’s married, then?” Camille questioned, skimming the article, seeing that they were involved in all sorts. Arms, drugs, murder, kidnap. It all suddenly felt a little bit scary, but then she remembered how kind and soft he was with her.

“Yep,” Mai spoke, chomping through the rest of her fries.

“I’m on the fence,” Tallulah began. “It��s plausible, but maybe see how it goes? Ask to go to his place or get his number from him next time he shows up. I mean, that’s if you’re comfortable with all that which you’re reading there, being involved with a guy like him. But yeah, if you are and do ask, if he’s cagey you’ll have your answer.”

The more she read, the more she wasn’t so sure. Motorcycle enthusiasts club was the farthest thing from what his organisation seemed to be. Ultimately, it didn’t frighten her, even though it perhaps should have. All she wanted was to see him again, feel his arms around her, enjoy his kisses, his praise, the way he always said the right thing.

Oh, lord. Was she about to lose her head yet again to another bad guy, a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Except EZ didn’t even have the latter, not really. If she was honest, he was pure wolf, but one who would happily let her pet him. It was a matter of time whether or not she’d end up getting bitten, and Camile knew, she just knew it was her toxic trait. She liked bad boys, and now here she was, keenly being enamoured by the ultimate incarnation, the apex bad boy.

But when he was with her, he was just... wonderful. He surprised her, he was charming, he was sweet. And attentive. So very attentive.

Two days later, and she had more white roses waiting for her at work, the other girls shooting daggers laced with pure envy at her, Camille once again taking the card and reading it, delight tumbling through her like an overexcited puppy bounding through a meadow.

‘Just because I can’t stop thinking about you. EZ x.’

Could he truly be that bad, she wondered? Yes, he could. And yes, he was. It would take Camille considerably longer than a few weeks to find that out, though.

#ez reyes #ez reyes fanfiction #ez reyes smut #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes x ofc #ez reyes fanfic #ez reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fic

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pretty-face-breaker · 4 years ago

Text

A Bath

c.w. dubcon touching (nonsexual but creepy), creepy whumper, partial nudity, whumpee being given a bath, painkillers used, hurting a wound, abusive relationship

after this

—

“You want to what?”

Having brought a glass and pill with him, Nick set it down onto the nightstand with an imposing thump, letting the wood shake under the force. Then, he slid both forwards with a smile, caring to be gentle with the powdered pill. “I’ll give you a bath.” He laughed deep, in a way he had rarely done before. “You look like you need it.”

“I look fine,” Hayko said, reaching forwards.

Moreso, he wished he could lie as convincingly to himself now as he did in court. Fine maybe wasn’t the choice adjective. His curls, typically neat and gentle were matted to his scalp as he threw back the pill and downed it within the second. Back to back days in bed with dull pain pulsing from the hole in his midriff were even worse for his skin. His whole body crawled with exertion.

Hayko sighed in relief that the meds were done with.

“I-I’ll get up today and clean myself up,” he mumbled, easing down into his pillow fort and the only position that didn’t nauseate him with discomfort. Can’t get up, can’t sleep, what the fuck good is this if I’m focussed on the pain every second- He breathed in sharply as the mattress dipped, Nick’s hand finding his shoulder and turning him.

“See, funny you’ve been saying that for two days now.”

Hayko inadvertently tightened his arms around the pillow closest to him. He wouldn’t be strong enough to throw his arms up in defense if Nick were to drag him out of bed and throw him headfirst into the bathroom. Not entirely dismissing the thought, he suppressed a shudder.

“And personally,” Nick added with a dangerous smile, “I’m getting tired of you hiding away.”

Hayko laughed through his mild terror. “Listen, I got shot.”

“For which I’m very sorry,” he crooned, lifting the corner of Hayko’s shirt and tracing his fingers down his slim side until he reached the white cotton patch. Beneath, the slightest hint of redness shone through his warm, sandy skin. As Nick idly played with the securing tape, it struck Hayko just how easily he could tear it off of him.

“I mean, look at you. It’s a wonder you’ve been able to sleep like this.”

I haven’t but thanks. Hayko fished for the edge of the shirt and covered his waist with nervous tugs down. “I don’t-... want you to. I-I can clean up today. It’s been getting easier to stand anyway so I’ll get around to it.”

Nick shifted the shirt back up again, pushing his hand back. “Easier but not enough for you to stand now? Come on now, love, don’t prolong your suffering in grime.”

Had he more energy, Hayko would have huffed an offended laugh but now more than ever, he wanted to just crawl back to the heap of pillows that had been his only real comfort for the past week besides the pain pills and as much as he hated to admit, Nick’s silent but near-constant presence.

His face said that the insistence wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.

Hayko eventually pushed himself to sitting when his nerves reached their peak in realization that he hadn’t left yet. He dared to glance up to Nick, who was playing with the rim of the glass as he steadily stared back. Particularly, at his hair.

“Okay,” Hayko breathed at last. Didn’t have to look much longer than the grin lasted for his face to darken, self-conscious of his defeat. “Now?”

Nick didn’t laugh but there was arrogance behind the “Obviously” he gave. When he got up and stretched, he seemed to be taking his time until Hayko wrenched himself up and recovered from the painful blow of darkness to his vision. He hissed and teetered, “Fuck.”

As the room cleared up again, the bathroom lights were on and the rush of water was going. Hayko then realized that he hadn’t agreed to a hair-wash but a bath. Though his thoughts swam with the effects of the pill, he steadied himself and limped after Nick with his hand tapping and brushing against the wall.

Support. An outlet for tension. No difference.

Nick turned from fixing the bath to him in the doorway. He flashed him an encouraging smile. “Go ahead then.”

Hayko reached for his shirt with a trembling hand and pulled it over his head with a wince when he stretched an inch too far. Dropping it, then went for the rest of his clothing and undressed clinically, an already humiliated mind wandering elsewhere until it was done. Nearly, because it didn’t matter whether Nick threatened him with another gunshot wound - he wasn’t taking off his underwear.

He seemed satisfied enough though and turned the tap off with an approving nod. “Can you walk?”

“Walked here, didn’t I?” Hayko mumbled as he quickly slipped into the tub and nestled down, back facing Nick. The warmth of the water was almost overwhelming as it sank into him and his muscles, gently hugging the scars across his back. The light burning from the water could be ignored as it faded with the rest of the world. It blissfully unwound him within moments. He didn’t notice the sigh he let slip until a chuckle came from behind.

Nick seemed to have noticed his bliss and so waited a while longer until he had fully relaxed into the water. His hand then snaked to Hayko’s hair, pulling him back and pushing him down. “Down you go.”

The water rose, and with it, a stab of panic as he fished for the edge of the tub and tried to push himself up against the grip before his head could be submerged. “Wait, wait-” he said, voice breaking all of a sudden. The terror of what was about to happen close to paralyzed him before he noticed that Nick wasn’t pushing him anymore.

“Relax,” Nick said with a light laugh before he ruffled his hair. “Needa get your hair wet.”

Hayko breathed out, pretending he hadn’t been ready to plead for him not to drown him. He slowly dunked his head underwater and threaded his fingers through the tangled curls, trying to pry them far enough apart for Nick to work with them. Given that he knew how to handle what he now realized was a disaster.

Nick took on the task regardless. Squeezing some product into his palm, he began shampooing his curls, massaging his scalp rough enough to force through the week-long mess until it became slick enough to card his fingers through. He worked from the base of his scalp through the remainder of the curls. “You have such beautiful hair,” he murmured.

“Hmm,” Hayko responded, sounding sleepy. His eyelashes fluttered in dimly-registered pleasure at the hands kneading his scalp, the lavender fragrance of shampoo, and buzz of the warm water, reassuring his senses. He hadn’t relaxed like this in what felt like ages. It had likely been months since he had taken time like this for himself and though this wasn’t exactly by himself, it could work.

“Enjoying yourself?” Nick wound a curl around his pinky and pulled back, teasing but not enough to hurt. He scratched behind his ear, scrubbing at the base of his hair. “Me too, love. Should let me do this more often.”

Hayko’s head lolled and he breathed deep, sloshing around the water. “S’long as you’re always nice like this.”

Another chuckle and after some time, he pushed Hayko’s head underwater again. This time there was no struggle and he could tell his boy was holding his breath patiently, letting him wash out the shampoo to leave gentle, thinner curls that swept and rolled over his shoulders when he came up for air.

Hayko took scattered strands in his palm and looked over the brown shimmer that had reappeared, allowing himself a soft smile. His scalp felt clean and the awful sensation of matting hair had seeped out of him, as well as other tensions that had been building for the past fews weeks. He had almost forgotten about the wound that was tormenting him.

Until he felt nails plucking at the bandage again.

Nick nestled his chin in the crook of Hayko’s neck, appearing absentminded as he scratched away the tape, peeling the corner from his skin slowly, slowly. He inched it up until he reached the bandage and then that, too, began to lift excruciatingly slowly and the water barely shifted as he did. Hayko hadn’t recalled ever letting his hand snake that low.

“As much as I would… prefer you around the house than in your bed, I have to admit that you did look nice, writhing in your own blood.” He turned his nose to breathe in the newly settled fragrance in his hair. “I mean, how much pain were you in? Haven’t seen you gasping like that since-”

“A l-lot,” Hayko responded after thinking back to it. It hurt to but after the shock had worn off, he could hardly remember anything anybody said to him with the sharpness of the agony, terror of death. The knowledge that he could have died that night. “I was in a lot of pain. What do you think?”

Nick buried his face in the hair, uncaring if his shirt got wet. “Hm, suppose that’s a bit vague. Give me details.” His finger suddenly bit into the wound and Hayko started in shock.

“Stop it.” His hand shot to Nick’s, clear-headed and desperate to stop the pain. He hissed as he dug his nail further into the inflamed edges. “Stop, please,” he tried in a softer register. “I can’t remember, hon-... honestly.” He felt the smile broadening into his shoulder and a lazy hum sound against him.

“It would be best if you remembered, then,” Nick muttered but yielded and slipped the bandage back.

Only teasing.

He pulled his hand out of the water but it snaked up his navel first. Always seemed to find a way to make even these moments a source of terror, Hayko thought as he took stock of the pain, newly focussed just as he’d forgotten it.

Though it should have been expected by now. His sadism was neither new nor ceasing, as long as Hayko would be here. Even in the middle of a bath. As Nick drained the tub, the hug of the water’s warmth leaving him to breath in the steam and straighten up, humiliation resurfaced. To be touched, undressed and looked at, to be cleaned and all of this willingly.

A towel draped over his back. A hand ruffled his hair again. “So good for me, baby.”

He was grateful to be clean again. Though as he got out of the tub, it wasn’t the pain this time that made him want to crawl back into bed and plunge into a forgetting sleep.

Maybe he could slip deeper into it with the tension gone.

Tagging @doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome--hunter @whumpsorbetism @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp

#whump #whump writing #whump drabble #stockholm syndrome #dubcon touching #dubcon #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #partial nudity #painkillers #forced stripping #abusive relationship tw #gunshot wound

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deja-you · 4 years ago

Text

ten ways to say (i love you)

t. jefferson x reader

summary: Thomas has never liked the conventional way of saying ‘I love you.’

word count: 6.1k

warnings: a little bit of angst, high school, karen

masterlist

There is no better way to start off senior year than arriving late to your first class.

In Y/n’s defense, she had left her house early. For once in her life she was actually going to be early to school. She was so proud of herself, and was so certain that she had extra time, Y/n allowed herself to stop at a drive thru and pick up a drink as a reward. Everything was going according to plan.

That is, until the Karen in the car in front of her decided she wasn’t pleased with her order and made the barista redo it. To make sure she didn’t mess up Karen’s order a second time, the barista was extra careful. And extra slow. Y/n groaned as she watched the time tick by minute by minute. Just her luck.

Y/n watched the barista hand the drink to the Karen and breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, Karen’s car didn’t move. She had her drink, but Karen continued to talk with the barista. Y/n cursed under her breath and banged her head on the steering wheel. She must have been more aggressive than she was expecting, because she accidentally honked her horn.

She jumped back in shock at the loud noise. Karen poked her head out of her window and immediately began lecturing Y/n on how rude she was being. At least, that’s what Y/n assumed she was saying, she really couldn’t hear the Karen with her windows rolled up. Y/n bit her lip, gave the Karen a little wave, and mouthed an apology.

Eventually Karen had finished her rant and left the drive thru. Y/n got her drink, no longer a reward, more like a consolation now, and sped to school. There weren’t any other students in the parking lot by the time Y/n arrived, remind her of just how late she was. Y/n shoved all her materials in her backpack, locked her car, and quickly walked into the building.

Of course, Y/n’s first class just had to be with Mr. Rousseau. Any other teacher would just let her tardiness slide. She opened the door to Mr. Rousseau’s classroom, and any conversation that was being had stopped. More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned their attention to her, and Y/n wanted to melt right there and then.

“Miss L/n, nice of you to join us.” Mr. Rousseau addressed her. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning against his desk as he sized her up. “If you’re done being a distraction to my class, I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat.”

Y/n swallowed roughly, and nodded. Rousseau went back to lecturing the class on how his class would be run, and Y/n did her best to find a seat as quietly as she could. She instinctively made her way over to where her best friends, Abigail and Thomas were sitting.

Thomas moved his backpack off the desk next to him, and mouthed, “I saved you a seat.”

She gave him a grateful smile and mouthed back a ‘thanks.’

Abigail leaned forward and whispered, “Mr. Rousseau wasn’t very amused with you being late, huh?”

“I swear he hates me,” Y/n insisted.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t hate you, hon’.”

“Thomas is right,” Abigail said. “Mr. Rousseau doesn’t hate you especially. Everyone knows he just hates women.”

Late night study session was code for hanging out at John Adams’s house and messing around.

Abigail was dating John, so Y/n was friends with him and his friends by association. Abigail, Dolly, and Y/n were actually trying to study. John and James were discussing the football team’s chances of winning their next game. Martha and George had snuck off to get freaky somewhere.

“Okay, Dolly.” Abigail held up a flash card. “What can you tell me about the defenestration of Prague?”

“Um, people were thrown out of windows for fun?” Dolly replied lazily.

“No. Well, I guess you’re not completely wrong...”

Y/n threw her body against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. If she had to stay here any longer, Y/n would throw herself out a window. Not that she didn’t want to hangout with her friends. After a long day of school, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to spend more time with the people she spent the whole day with. If it wasn’t for her fragile social status, Y/n would have already been home in her bed right now.

“Sorry m’late, had to drop my sister off at a gymnastics class. Or fencing. Or Italian. Honestly, I can’t remember.” Thomas walked into the living room where everyone was hanging out.

“Ah, yes. I had almost forgot that the Jeffersons are all overachievers,” Y/n said with and eye roll.

He wore an easy grin as he made his way over to Y/n, leaning against the couch and staring down at her. “What can I say? We’re just built different.”

Y/n scoffed but refused to dignify him with any further response. Instead, she closed her eyes again, pretending she was back at home under warm covers.

“I brought you food.”

This caught Y/n’s attention. She slowly opened one eye to see if he was telling the truth. Thomas held up a bag of fast food he must’ve picked up on his way over. Y/n couldn’t help but smile as she sat upright.

“For me?” She asked.

“Of course, hon’.” He handed her the bag. “I know you didn’t have time for lunch today, and I know you likely wouldn’t have gotten around to eating anything yet.”

Y/n happily pulled out an order of large fries out of the bag. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are, Thomas?”

“Not often enough.”

“Well. You are amazing. So amazing.”

Y/n finished her fries and was looking through the rest of the bag to see what else he had gotten her when John called out to her.

“Hey, Y/n,” John said, “what are your thoughts on my cousin?”

“You mean Sam Adams?” Y/n asked.

“Yep. The very one.”

She shrugged. “He’s cute. Why?”

“He thinks you’re cute. Wanted me to ask if you’re single,” John said nonchalantly.

Abigail took time away from quizzing Dolly to get invested in the conversation. “She’s very single. Right, Y/n? You and Sam would be so cute together!”

Y/n could feel her cheeks begin to heat up, and she suddenly found the hardwood floors very interesting. “I don’t know... he really thinks I’m cute?”

“S’what he said,” John replied. “Can I give him your number?”

She weighed her options before giving a shrug. “Yeah, why not?”

“Y/n and Sam? I totally ship it,” Dolly said.

“Right?” Abigail grinned. “They’re going to be such an attractive couple.”

“Okay, can we stop talking about this now? I’m here to study,” Y/n insisted, pulling out a textbook.

“I’d rather not fail tomorrow’s test,” Thomas agreed.

Everyone begrudgingly went back to their previous activities, and Thomas took that moment to sit next to Y/n on the couch. She was flipping through the pages of her textbook before she came to a stop. Y/n passed the textbook to Thomas and pointed to the painting on the page.

“Look, this one’s my favorite,” she said.

“Wanderer above the Sea of Fog,” Thomas read. “You’re a fan of Caspar David Friedrich, then?”

Y/n shrugged. “I’m just a fan of the Romantic movement in general. Everything was just so creative, and beautiful, and emotional. There’s just so much feeling in this painting. It’s overwhelming.”

Thomas frowned looking back at the painting, and then back to Y/n. “It certainly is romantic.”

She gave the painting one last look before she began flipping through the pages of the textbook again. Thomas watched her curiously as she read over the vocabulary words for that week. Finally, he decided to say what was on his mind.

“So, you and Sam Adams, huh?” He nudged her gently with his shoulder.

Y/n bit her lip and focused on a peculiar tchotchke the Mrs. Adams had decorated the living room with. “I guess. I used to have a crush on him in middle school, remember?”

“That’s right. Abbie and I spent most of science class teasin’ you about that. No wonder you’re so bad at physics now.”

She frowned and playfully bumped her shoulder with his. “I’m not bad at physics.”

“Really?” Thomas considered her with eyebrows raised. “Remember that botched science experiment that nearly killed Mr. Newton?”

“Can we not talk about that? He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

He hid an amused look. “Whatever you say, honey.”

You’re tired. The sheets are too hot. It’s been a long day, your body is exhausted. The air in your bedroom is too cold. Your mind is tired, too. The sheets are too hot. If you just close your eyes and stop thinking you’ll be asleep in minutes. The air in your bedroom is too cold. Not thinking isn’t exactly easy. The sheets are too hot. Go then if you must, but remember, no matter how -- damn you, Sophocles, and your terribly beautiful words.

Thomas threw his covers off his body and sat up in bed. He wasn’t going to get much sleep no matter how hard he tried. Thomas rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, if there had been any sleep to begin with.

There was no doubt that he was tired mentally and physically. Emotionally? His heart was eternally restless. He crossed his room to sit at his desk, fully accepting that sleep wasn’t a viable option anymore.

The blue light from his computer was a harsh contrast to the darkness of his room, but his eyes adjusted quickly. Thomas didn’t even know what he was doing on his computer in the middle of the night.

His fingers knew. They opened up an application and began scrolling. No, no, no, yes. Perfect. No, no, no, no, no, yes. This is her. And this went on for an hour or so, Thomas lost track of time. He’d be tired tomorrow, but he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he was finished.

When he actually was finished, he smiled contentedly to himself. A wave of calm washed over him, and before he knew it, Thomas was back in his bed falling asleep.

He looked terrible the next morning. Well, as terrible as a Jefferson could look. He had still had the sense to dress nicely, collared shirt, sweater, ironed pants, polished dressed shoes. Thomas was still sharp as ever in all his classes, but anyone who really knew him could tell he was a mess.

“You okay, Thomas?” Y/n asked at lunch in Mr. Locke’s classroom (Mr. Locke was kind enough to let a group of moody teenagers eat lunch in his class, the lunchroom just wasn’t cool enough for them).

“Hm? Yeah. I’m great.”

Y/n cocked her head to the side. “You sure? You seem tired.”

“Don’t worry about me. Actually, I have something for you.” Thomas fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You have something for me?”

“Yeah, I’m sending it now. Check your phone.”

She raised an eyebrow, but Y/n opened up her phone to check the text Thomas had sent her.

“Sophocles and Serotonin.” Y/n read aloud. “What is this?”

“I made you a playlist of songs I thought you might like.”

“Seriously?” A smile played on her lips; Thomas couldn’t help but reflect it. “When did you have the time for this?”

He shrugged. “I have more free time than you’d think.”

“With all your APs, varsity sport, and extracurriculars? I highly doubt that.” Y/n looked up at him, a teasing lilt transparent in her tone. “I appreciate the playlist even more, knowing you took time out of your rigorous schedule to create it. Thanks, Thomas.”

She leaned forward on the desk she was seated on to press a kiss to his cheek. Thomas froze like a deer in headlights, and if Y/n noticed, she didn’t say anything. He put himself back together before she could notice he was momentarily put-off, and leaned back against another desk in an attempt to look cool.

“S’what do you have planned for after school?” He asked in his best nonchalant voice.

“Well, Sam and I are going to go see a movie.”

“That’s still a thing, then?”

Y/n shot him a look that had him raising his hands up in surrender. “Yes, it’s still a thing. I really like him, okay? He’s a good guy.”

“But is he good enough for you?” Thomas crossed his arms, his eyes not leaving her’s. It wasn’t that Thomas didn’t like Sam. Sam was great. It was just a fact that no guy would ever be good enough for his best friend.

“He is.” She said with an eye roll. “Why do you care anyway?”

“Hon’, I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oh trust me, I know.”

Summer had felt like an eternity ago, when in reality, it had been less than two months ago. The yellow leaves and the updated fall Starbucks menu were enough to convince anyone that it had always been October.

It had taken a lot of convincing and a little bit of bribery to convince Thomas to attend the Homecoming football game, but with the assistance from Abigail, Y/n had eventually gotten Thomas to cave. She wanted him there, but more importantly, she wanted him to give her a ride there.

Of course she could have taken her own car, but Y/n would rather not waste her own gas when she could use Thomas’s instead. It’s not like it mattered to him, his parents paid for his car, insurance, and gas anyway. Plus, his Mercedes Benz had a seat warming function that Y/n couldn’t get enough of.

She spent most of the ride over to the stadium raving over his seat warmers, and Thomas spent most of the ride making fun of how excited she was about seat warmers. Eventually, they parked outside of the stadium, and Thomas paid for their entrance fee into the stadium.

“It’s co--” before Y/n could finish her sentence, remarking on the obvious cold weather, Thomas had handed her a sweatshirt. She looked down at the maroon sweatshirt, then back at Thomas, her mouth slightly open. “You brought an extra sweatshirt for me? I didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t have to ask,” he shrugged. She put on the sweatshirt and stared at him with wide eyes. Thomas glanced at, bit the inside of his lip, and shook his head. “Now, don’t go thinking I care about you or somethin’ like that, hon’. Couldn’t have you taking the sweatshirt I’m wearing, then I’d be cold.”

She looked at him with a smug smile on her face that made him regret bringing her the sweatshirt in the first place. “Yeah? Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all.” He was doing his best to act annoyed by all her questioning, but he couldn’t help but find it endearing. When he came up with another argument, he added on, “besides, ma would be upset with if she knew I let you freeze. It seems like she loves you more than she loves me sometimes.”

“That’s because she does,” Y/n pointed it out like it was obvious. “Can you blame her? I’m funny and adorable. You’re just a grumpy old man I have to drag to football games.”

“That’s it. Give the sweatshirt back. I hope you freeze.” Thomas was giving her the dirtiest look he could muster. Y/n had the audacity to throw her head back and laugh.

She reached into her purse, and after some digging around, she pulled out a five dollar bill from her wallet. Y/n thrusted the money into Thomas’s hand and pushed him in the direction of the concession stand. “Here. Go get us some popcorn, maybe you won’t be so irritable once you get some food in you. I’m going to go find some seats.”

Thomas grumbled something about “not being irritable” but nonetheless ventured off toward the concessions. Y/n climbed the steps up the stadium and immediately found Abigail sitting in the student section, all decked out in school colors and face paint. Abigail greeted Y/n with a warm hung, then holding her at an arms length, she took note of what her best friend was wearing.

“Is that Thomas’s sweatshirt?” Abigail asked.

Y/n looked down at the the University of Virginia sweatshirt she had wrapped around herself. “Hm? Oh yeah, it is.”

Abigail pursed her lips and mulled over this new information. “What’s going on between you and Thomas?”

“What d’ya mean? We’re friends.” Y/n pursed her lips.

“And Thomas knows that?” Abigail observed Y/n. “Do you know that?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Yes, of course I know that. I’m dating Sam now, okay? Thomas and I have always just been friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

Abigail held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. If you say so, I’ll believe you. I just don’t want any feelings to get hurt between the two of you.”

“There are no feelings between the two of us,” Y/n said, but she wouldn’t stop thinking about Abigail’s words for the rest of the night.

All week, Thomas had dreamt about the mint chocolate chip ice cream that was waiting for him in the freezer.

It was his favorite flavor, and there was just enough left in the carton for one last bowl. He had promised himself he wouldn’t eat the last of it until he had really deserved it. After spending a productive hour studying for the test he had tomorrow, Thomas decided he had finally earned that delectable bowl of artificially colored green ice cream.

He made his way to the kitchen, humming an upbeat tune and sliding across the hardwood floor in his socks. Thomas had made it all the way to the freezer when there was a knock at the front door.

Thomas paused. He was so close to getting his ice cream. Maybe it was just a delivery? He debated answering the bowl or ignoring and continuing to dish himself ice cream. Thomas was leaning toward his bowl of ice cream when there was a knock at the door again. With a scowl on his face, he abandoned the fridge and any hope for happiness he had left and made his way to the front door.

“Y/n?” He said in surprise when he opened the door.

“Hi, Thomas. I didn’t know who else to come to. Abigail’s out with John right now. Dolly and Martha aren’t good in situations like this,” she was speaking quickly, sniffling between sentences, and trying not to let any more tears fall down her cheeks. “I just--”

He interrupted Y/n by pulling her into his house and his arms. Y/n melted into his touch, her hands gripping his shirt as she hugged him back.

“What happened?” Thomas asked softly, rubbing circles into her back with his thumbs.

“Sam and I broke up.”

Thomas sighed softly and rested his chin on her head. He bit his lip, weighed his options, and came to a reluctant conclusion. Thomas pulled away just enough that he could look Y/n in her bloodshot eyes.

“I think this is the part where we break out the ice cream, huh?”

She offered him a miserable smile. “Ice cream couldn’t hurt.”

He led her to his kitchen and began digging through the kitchen while she hopped onto the counter to sit. Thomas hid a frown from Y/n while in the process of pulling out the nearly empty carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“So you want to tell me what happened?” Thomas asked, pulling out a bowl from one of the cabinets.

“It wasn’t a bad breakup.” Despite her words, Y/n still wiped at her tears with the sleeves of her shirt. “We mutually agreed it was best for both of us.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “He’s just not... he’s not the one.”

Thomas felt something twist and turn in his stomach, but he knew it wouldn’t be right to be happy when his friend was so miserable. He did his best to hide the smile that wanted to form in the corners of his mouth. “M’sorry about that, honey.”

“I know it was the right decision,” she said, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt not to let any more tears stream down her face. “Doesn’t mean it hurts any less, though.”

“It’s normal to be upset after a break up,” Thomas shrugged.

“You’re not going to have any ice cream?” Y/n asked quietly as he handed her a singular bowl.

“Not in the mood for it,” he lied.

“You get enough sleep last night, hon’?”

Y/n was in mid-yawn when he asked her the question. She held a hand over her mouth and nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“You look terrible.”

She scowled at him. “Wow. Just what a girl wants to hear. Anyone ever tell you you’re a charmer, Thomas Jefferson?”

“You’d be surprised.” He gave her a teasing smile. “So who’s the cause for your sleepless nights?”

“Napoleon Bonaparte.” She held up her textbook for him to see. “Why’d I ever let you convince me to take an AP class with you?”

“Because you like spending time with me?”

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“Ouch.” Thomas held a hand over his heart. “You really stayed up late studying for the quiz?”

“Some people have to study, okay? Not everyone’s as gifted as Thomas flippin’ Jefferson.”

“Flippin’?” He stifled a laugh.

“We’re at school. Gotta keep it PG, right?” She shrugged. “So yeah, I stay up and study sometimes. High schoolers aren’t supposed to get a good amount of sleep. S’not a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I worry about you.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Believe me, if I could just shut it off, I would. I’ll make you a Quizlet next time so you can get more sleep.”

Y/n was about to say something in response when her phone began ringing in her pocket. “I should get this.”

She went out into the hallway to answer the call, and Thomas turned back to his lunch, not even bothering to hide his smile.

“Thomas.”

He jumped at the sound of a voice and turned to see Abigail sitting at the desk across from him. Had she been listening to them the whole time? Thomas had completely forgotten she was there; a fact he would be certain not to share with her.

“Yes, Abbie?”

“Do you have a crush on Y/n?”

Thomas blinked a few times, certain that he hadn’t heard Abigail right. “Excuse me?”

Abigail rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You heard me right, Jefferson. Do you have a crush on Y/n?”

“Y/n? Where’d you get that idea?” Thomas made a face like he was disgusted by the very thought of it.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re always following her around and doing whatever it takes to make her happy. Not to mention you always call her “hon’,” seems pretty affectionate to me.” Abigail had a talent for laying out the facts.

“We’ve been friends since I can remember, of course I care about her. So what if I have a nickname for her? Doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s not like you have a nickname for anyone else.”

“I call you ‘Abbie’. I have a nickname for everyone.”

“We both know that’s a load of B.S. Are you really telling me you don’t like Y/n?”

“I don’t like Y/n.” And it wasn’t exactly a lie, because the feelings he had for Y/n had progressed far beyond liking.

“There’s nothing people appreciate more than a hand-made gift, right?” Y/n said, pulling out a ball of azure colored yarn.

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a wall. “Sure, ‘cept maybe a nice Rolex or a new car.”

She scowled at him. “I don’t know what it is about me that makes you think I can afford a Rolex or a new car. I’m an unemployed high school student. My only income comes from birthday cards from my grandparents.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I’m sure Abigail will love the scarf you make for her.”

“Yeah, how hard could it be?” Y/n muttered, staring at the mess of strings in her lap.

Thomas’s eyes widened a little. “You telling me you’ve never crocheted before?”

“How hard could it be?” She pulled up a beginners guide on YouTube, and five minutes later, Y/n had a knotted pile of yarn in her hands. She huffed in frustration and began to aggressively pull at the yarn.

“Let me help.”

“You know how to knit?” Y/n raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

Thomas rolled his eyes, sitting next to her and taking the “scarf” out of her hands. “This is crocheting. You don’t even have knitting needles.”

“Apologies. You know how to crochet?”

“Lucy went through a stage where she was really into crocheting,” he shrugged. Thomas had quickly untangled Y/n’s “progress” and began to expertly thread together loops of yarn. He held up his work to her once a pattern had begun to form. “See? Perks of growing up with sisters.”

“I hate that you’re good at everything.”

He snorted and gently began to move the work into Y/n’s hand for her to finish the rest. “’M’not good at everything. Just most things.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Y/n was now laser focused on the project in front of her, determined to get it right this time. Thomas would advise her, but for the most part he let her work on it by herself. She was a fast learner.

“You’re never going to get it like that, hon--” Thomas caught himself, remembering the conversation he had had with Abigail earlier. “Y/n. You’re never going to get it like that, Y/n.”

She looked up at him with furrowed brows. “What?”

He swallowed roughly and shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just... You’re going to want to pull the yarn tighter or it’s all going to unravel later.”

“Oh. Thanks, Thomas.”

It was 2 a.m., and Y/n had already came to terms with the fact that she wasn’t going to get more than five hours of sleep. She wasn’t exactly trying very hard to sleep. She had tried to refresh her Instagram feed maybe a dozen times now, but it wasn’t like anyone was posting in the middle of the night. Instagram was doing a poor job keeping her mind distracted.

Lightly biting her bottom lip, she threw her body back onto her bed with a loud sigh. She wrinkled her nose and caved, navigating to the facetime app on her phone. Hesitating one last time, Y/n tapped his contact with her thumb. Her phone began to hum while she waited for him to pick up.

“Hey, Thomas. I know it’s late,” she said when he finally answered the phone. Y/n frowned when she saw him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, no. Couldn’t sleep anyway,” replied his groggy voice.

“You’re lying. Hey, don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”

“I was already up.”

“No, you weren’t. Don’t let me bother you.”

Thomas stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at Y/n firmly through the camera. “Maybe I was asleep, but I’m up now, yeah? Don’t worry about waking me up. I’d rather talk to you any way.”

Y/n pursed her lips, giving him a doubtful look. Thomas was too polite to ever tell someone if they were bothering him. She couldn’t tell if he really wanted to talk to her, or if he was just too courteous to tell her otherwise.

He noticed the look she gave him and rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me. Would’ve stopped bein’ friends with you years ago if I didn’t find all your annoying habits endearing. Promise.” Thomas shot her a smug smile that made her wish she hadn’t called.

“So kind of you,” she said sarcastically.

“I try.” His grin widened, if that was even possible. “So what’d you want to talk to me about?”

Y/n chewed on her bottom lip and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t?” Thomas narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer to the camera. After he had examined her carefully, he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Yeah you do. What is it?”

She shifted, uncomfortable by how easy it was for him to see right through her. Once more that night, she caved. “I can’t stop thinking about how you called me ‘Y/n’ earlier today?”

He tensed up but the action was barely noticeable. “What about it? It’s your name.”

“Sure,” she nodded, “but you never call me ‘Y/n.” It’s always ‘hon’’ or ‘honey.’ Always. Did something happen? Are you mad at me?”

Thomas raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “No, ‘course not. Everything’s fine.” He paused. “That really upset you? Me calling you ‘Y/n’?”

“It’s just not normal.”

“It’s not normal for people to call you by your name?”

“It is, but you are supposed to call me ‘honey.’ Okay?”

He laughed through his nose and couldn’t stop an amused smile from spreading on his lips. “Okay, honey.”

“I’m finally going to get to see your mural, then?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “It’s not my mural, Y/n. It’s the senior mural. It’s not like I’m painting it.”

“Yeah, but it was your idea.” She gave him a playful nudge. “I don’t know why you haven’t told me what it is yet. I’m sure if the great Thomas Jefferson designed it, it’ll be the best Senior mural ever seen at Charlottesville High School.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, hon’. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re Thomas Jefferson.”

They turned the corner to see their fellow senior, Henrietta Johnston, working on the mural. The previously beige wall was now covered in black, gray, and light blue paint. In the middle of the painting was a figure made up of colorful hand prints standing above the blue-gray sea.

Y/n stared at the mural with an open mouth. She looked from Henrietta to Thomas, then back to the wall in front of her.

“It was my idea to make the figure all colorful with handprints,” Thomas said. “Thought it would be nice to let our class to literally leave a mark on this school.”

Henrietta smiled at the mural and set down her paintbrush. “It was a good idea. The splash of color is just what it needed. What do you think, Y/n? Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it. It’s... it’s perfect.” She turned to Thomas with wide eyes. “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. This is my favorite painting.”

“I noticed -- don’t give me that look. It’s not like I care that much. You just never shut up about that painting. It’s annoying, really,” Thomas muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at the ground.

She smiled and turned her attention back to the mural. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course. It’s worth it, seeing how much you like it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re the kind of person I could fall in love with, you know that?” She didn’t take her eyes off the painting, and Thomas was glad.

Maybe if she had looked at him, she would have seen his breath catch in his throat and his eyes widen just a little bit. If he was the kind of person she could fall in love with, then why didn’t she? Thomas was flustered. If Y/n had noticed his lack of response, she didn’t say anything.

10.

Charlottesville High School was filled with rich kids. The Charlottesville High School debate team had a minimal amount of members. These factors resulted in Thomas and Y/n having their own hotel rooms when they attended a debate function in Washington D.C.

After a long day of debating, Thomas and Y/n walked side by side down the narrow corridor to their respective rooms. Every now and then, they spared looks at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Thomas cleared his throat. “So that guy in the green shirt asked me for your number.”

She glanced up at him. “He did? Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Thought he was out of your league. Told him you snored like an ogre and I gave him Maria’s number instead,” he said with a shrug.

She gasped and shoved his shoulder. “Are you kidding me? I don’t snore like an ogre! He was cute and interested in me.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

Y/n scowled. “For your information, I’m adorable. I’m funny and enjoyable to be around. Even if I ‘snore like an ogre’ I’m also extremely attractive, so it makes up for it.”

“You don’t need to sell me on reasons why you’re dateable, honey,” he chuckled softly.

“Oh yeah?”

At the same time, Y/n and Thomas turned to face each other. Their teasing banter stopped when they realized they were only inches apart, he could hear every inhale and exhale. His eyes flicked to her lips. It was only for a second, but she hadn’t missed it.

Thomas took a step back and cleared his throat. “It’s late, we should go to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she echoed. They both hurriedly stepped into their own rooms.

Had he almost kissed her? Did that really just happen? Y/n leaned against her hotel room door. Maybe she had just imagined it. She shook her head and grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts out of her suitcase. Maybe Y/n could stop thinking about it after a good nights rest. She changed and was about to brush her teeth when she felt some kind of nagging feeling inside.

It was naïve to think she was going to get any sleep tonight if she didn’t confront Thomas about it. Y/n set down her toothbrush and made her way out into the fluorescent lit hallway. She had made it all the way to his door when she paused.

Is this really what she wanted to do? If Y/n brought up their almost-kiss, would they be able to go back to friends? Did she even want to go back to friends? Y/n bit her lip and glanced back at her own room door. She should just go to bed, it wasn’t worth putting their friendship in jeopardy. But then again, Y/n would always wonder what could have happened if she didn’t confront him.

She raised her fist to knock on Thomas’s door, but before she could knock, the door swung open. Thomas and Y/n once more stood face to face. She had a wide eyed expression that mirrored Thomas’s.

There was an accelerated heartbeat. A flutter. Thomas’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Y/n’s hand found its place on the back of his neck and guided his lips to her’s. His eyes were half open, sneaking glances at her to assure himself he wasn’t dreaming. Her overwhelming scent and the feeling of his hands threaded through her hair was all too real.

Thomas pulled her into his room, kicking the door closed behind them. Placing both hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Thoughts were racing in Y/n’s mind. She tried to put reason to the way he gripped her waist tightly -- there would be bruises there the next day. She tried to put reason to the way his pupils dilated as she went in for another kiss. Y/n came up empty handed.

There was no way Y/n felt the same way, Thomas told himself. There was no way she loved him the way he loved her. For as long as he could remember, he had been in love with Y/n L/n. And for as long as he could remember, she had only seen him as her best friend.

Thomas missed the warmth of her lips when she pulled away, but he couldn’t help but admire the way her lips were swollen and her hair was a mess. Her bright eyes, and the way light highlighted the softness of her skin. Thomas took that moment to memorize every line and curve of her face, branding the memory into his head.

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pushed her away this time, sitting up. “Stop. We... we can’t do this. This can’t just be a one time thing.”

“Why not?” Her voice was quiet and delicate.

He felt his heart twist inside his chest and he clenched his jaw. “Because I love you.”

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anarchyduck · 4 years ago

Text

In Another World

Day Three: Soul World

I’m two days behind now, sobs

AO3

----------------------- “Mr. Stark?”

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I don’t want to go. Please, please-”

“I’m sorry.”

Peter Parker wakes to the sound of his alarm going off.

Blindly, he reaches out from beneath the blankets, groping around on the side table until he finds his phone and shuts it off. His hand retreats and he groans, turning his face to bury it into his pillow. Maybe if he’s lucky, he can sneak in just a few more minutes of sleep…

“Peter!” May calls and knocks on his bedroom door. “Get up or you won’t have time for breakfast.”

So much for more sleep.

Peter groans as he drags himself out of bed. Everything feels weird, like he’s slept too long and forgot what day it is. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he stumbles around to find clothes, dragging a t-shirt off the floor to wear. The wrinkles will drive May nuts so he grabs a hoodie to wear over it.

He wanders through his morning routine with still that nagging feeling that something isn’t quite right. Something is missing or he forgot something. A test? Blind panic hits him hard as he scrambles to remember. No. No test. Peter relaxes and manages to finish brushing his teeth before another crisis hits.

“Coffee is ready.” May announces from the kitchen. Peter can smell toast (slightly burnt, the strawberry jam jar is open) and rich hazelnut coffee, the scent filling the apartment.

It takes him a second to remember. May doesn’t drink hazelnut coffee.

“Hon, have you seen my-oh never mind.”

That voice. Peter knows that voice. It’s unmistakable. He could be suffering from amnesia and still recognize that voice.

Heart pounding, he turns the corner from the hallway to the kitchen and-

“Uncle Ben?”

Ben Parker looks up and flashes one of his half grins at Peter. “Morning. See you haven’t combed your hair again.” He pockets his car keys and ventures into the kitchen for coffee.

Peter trails after, stunned but unable to explain why. Of course it’s Ben. Why wouldn’t Ben be here?

“Oh, Peter…” May appears in front of him, tsking under her breath as she attempts to tame his wild bedhead. “Did you at least brush your teeth? Honestly, you and Ben are absolutely hope- Peter? Honey, what’s wrong?”

Peter’s eyes burn, his chest tight with some unexplained emotion. “H-Huh?” he blinks, focusing on May as she looks at him with concern.

“Are you hurt? Headache?” May lays her palm on his forehead and cups his cheeks. “You didn’t get hurt last night did you?”

Peter’s brows draw together. “L-Last night?”

“While on patrol?” May steps back to give him a proper look over. Searching for hidden wounds or bruises he failed to disclose.

Patrol. Patrol. Oh. Patrol. Spider-Man.

But wait, then that means-

“Maybe I ought to take you to the gym sometime.” Ben says as he pours coffee into his thermos. “Teach you some old boxing techniques and how to fight properly.” He stirs in some sugar and creamer. “Stark’s fancy gizmos can’t save you from dodging a real punch, you know.”

Well there’s a lot to unpack there. Peter can’t keep from staring at his uncle. His mind scrambles to keep up, to put the pieces back into place. It all seems right and yet, he feels something is off. It’s right but it isn’t.

“Peter?” May is still standing in front of him, worrying. She brushes curls from his face. “Maybe you should stay home today, just in case.”

“No, no I’m fine May. Really.” Peter reassures, even managing a small smile. “Think I slept weird or had crazy dreams, that’s all.”

“The boy is fine, May.” Ben says then looks at Peter, “Grab some grub for the road, kiddo. I’ll drop you off.”

Peter falls into routine, grabbing a piece of toast and protein bar (one Tony made up for him, he recognizes the packaging). “Bye May!” he calls out as he follows his uncle out of the apartment.

-----------------------

He can’t shake the weirdness. It clings to him like a second coat. He also can’t stop stealing glances at his uncle. There’s a little voice in his head that says it isn’t right, that Ben shouldn’t be here. Yet here he is in the flesh. Driving him to school.

“So you didn’t sneak out last night?” Ben asks, breaking through Peter’s thoughts. They stop at a red light, sun shining through a break in the clouds.

Peter shakes his head. “No. Promise.” he says.

Ben hums and nods. His hair looks a little grayer than Peter expects. Which is weird because what else did he expect? For Ben’s hair to not be grayer? Grayer compared to what? “You’re going to the Tower today, right? After school?”

Peter nods. “Yeah. Mr. Stark wants my help making some gear for Natasha.”

“Black Widow, huh?” Ben lightly whistles. “Boy, if I were only twenty years younger.”

“Ben!” Peter laughs.

“I’m just saying! She seems like a mighty fine woman.”

“She can be super scary sometimes. Moves even quieter than I do.” A memory flashes in Peter’s mind, of being in the tower with the other Avengers. Training with Nat, hanging out in the kitchen while Steve cooked, sitting down to the table to enjoy a meal together. They play like scenes from a movie reel and he feels strangely detached from it.

His chest tightens with strange emotion again. He closes his eyes as they begin to burn. His other senses take over. The smell of Ben’s aftershave and cologne. The way the brakes squeak when they stop at another red light. They’re in Ben’s car and he wonders how it could be possible. They got rid of Ben’s car after… after…

-----------------------

“Dude I can’t believe you get to work on Avenger gear!” Ned whispers loudly.

"It's only cool the first time." Peter says. He shoves books into his locker, ignoring the crumpled up papers at the bottom that continue being squished and crinkled. "The novelty wears off after the fiftieth Widow Bite."

"Whatever man, it's still awesome."

Peter stands at his open locker for a moment, staring at it's interior as he tries to think of what textbook he needs for his next class. What is his next class…

"Oh, did you ask your aunt and uncle if you can come over this weekend?" Ned asks.

Aunt and uncle. Aunt and uncle. Why is that phrasing so weird?

"Pete? Did you hear me?"

Why can't he shake that feeling that something isn't right?

"What's up losers?" Michelle's voice snaps him out of his thoughts and Peter quickly shuts his locker before she can see the mess. "Decathlon's been canceled for the day. Harrington is out sick."

"Oh." Is all Peter can say to that. Come to think of it, several teachers are out today. How weird. "Maybe it's the flu."

Michelle shrugs her shoulders. "Yeah maybe." She says. A group of upperclassmen pass by the trio, giggling and talking loudly enough to draw Peter's attention. Michelle narrows her eyes slightly and she asks, "Have you guys noticed anything weird?"

Ned shakes his head. "No. Like what?"

"Don't know yet." Michelle replies cryptically. "Something just feels off today."

The back of Peter's neck itches and tingles, and he reaches back to rub the spot. If MJ notices something then maybe there is more going on. "Maybe you slept wrong?" He suggests lamely.

Michelle gives him a look then scoffs. "Yeah, slept wrong. Sure."

The warning bell rings in the half empty hallway.

-----------------------

Peter walks out of Avengers Tower to find his uncle's beige Toyota Corolla waiting for him. It surprises him to see it then he wonders why it should. Ben always picks him up after lab time at the Tower.

"Hey Petey!" Ben greets as Peter slides into the passenger seat. "Have a good time?"

"Yeah," Peter replies as he puts on his seatbelt. "We got a lot of work done." Now if only he could remember exactly what that work was. He remembers Ned and MJ at school, being picked up by Happy and then working with Mr. Stark. What did they work on? He can't remember. The entire event is a blur.

"You aunt is suggesting Thai for dinner tonight." Ben says as they get on the road.

"Sounds good." Peter replies, not really listening. Why can't he remember lab time? He can see Tony's face, plain as day, so why can't he remember what they did? Is he getting sick? Come to think of it, he can’t remember Happy picking him up from school. An old memory plays instead, something he knows already happened in the past but definitely didn’t happen today. It feels more like he’s watching an event play out rather than being part of it.

"Uncle Ben? Do you ever feel like you're missing something?" Peter asks finally.

"Like what?"

"Like," Peter sighs as he struggles to explain without sounding crazy. "Like you know something is off? Like something isn't… right?"

Ben hums and doesn't respond. The car rolls to a stop at a red light, silence stretching to the point of being unbearable. When Peter finally looks at his uncle, he finds the old man staring at him with an unreadable expression.

"You're very smart, Peter." He says. "You've always been smart, you know? Even when you were little."

The tightness in Peter's chest worsens. The back of his neck tingles. "Uncle Ben?" He asks with uncertainty. Something isn’t right.

"We had hoped you wouldn't notice." Ben continues.

Peter frowns

“What-”

Peter blinks and, when his eyes open, he's no longer in the car.

He's back at the apartment, sitting on the couch. Star Wars: A New Hope plays on the TV and a bowl of warm popcorn sits on the coffee table before him. The light above the stove is on in the kitchen and he can see the pale blue light from the nightlight in the hallway. The apartment is quiet. He can’t sense May.

"This was your dad's favorite too." Ben says beside him. “We saw it in the theaters when it came out.”

Peter takes a shuddering breath and swallows past the lump in his throat. "Am I dead?"

"Yes and no." Ben pops some popcorn into his mouth.

"But you…" Peter's voice catches in his throat, tears burning his eyes. "You're…"

"Dead." Ben nods solemnly. “Yes.”

It hits him harder than it should. A flashback to a dark night, a mugging gone wrong, and Ben laying on the concrete covered in blood. Peter pleaded with him, begged him to stay, to hold on, that help was coming. But Ben died anyway. Peter went home with blood on his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Ben.” Peter says with a strangled sob. “I-I didn’t want you to die. I didn’t know… I didn’t mean…”

“Shh,” Ben shushes and Peter feels himself pulled forward, his face buried against soft cotton that smells like wood and leather. A scent that brought comfort when Peter was scared, that taught him how to hold his fist, who gave him wisdom even when he didn’t understand the meaning of it.

Ben’s voice rumbles deep in his chest as he continues holding the sobbing boy. “I’m so proud of you, Peter. Always have been. Just look at all the good you’ve done with your life. And I know, your parents are proud of you too.”

Peter sobs freely against Ben’s chest, clinging to him tightly. If it hurts, Ben doesn’t say anything. He continues holding him, rocking with him gently like he used to when Peter was small. He cries until he can’t and, even after the tears dry up, he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t notice the movie is no longer playing or the bright orange that takes the apartment’s place.

Ben sighs then. “We don’t have much longer.” he says.

Peter lifts his head, eyes red and tears marking his face. “What do you mean?” he asks. A childish fear takes him and he holds Ben’s shirt. “I don’t want you to go. Please, Ben, stay. Stay with me and May.”

Ben’s hand lands on his shoulder, squeezes it as he meets Peter’s gaze. Despite the tears in his eyes, Ben smiles. “We’ll be together again. I love you, Peter.”

Peter sniffles and he puts his hand over Ben’s. “Love you too, Uncle Ben.” He manages a tearful smile. “I’ll make you proud. I promise.”

Ben’s smile widens as the yellow-orange light brightens around them, surrounding them in it’s glow. Peter keeps his eyes open as long as he can until it becomes too bright, until the brightness forces him to close his eyes.

-----------------------

Peter Parker wakes to the orange skies of Titan.

#webpril 2021 day 3 #peter parker #ben parker #may parker #aunt may #ned leeds #michelle jones #mj #spiderman #mcu #duckie's writing

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kylorengarbagedump · 5 years ago

Text

Little Bird: Chapter 16

Read on AO3. Part 15 here. Part 17 here.

Summary: The horrors of Gilead are too much to bear. You've been selfish.

Words: 3100

Warnings: Handmaid AU

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Guys... Ren knows she's missing... what the fuck is gonna happen...

(I know but I'm not telling.)

Thank you everyone for your interest and attention to this story. I have no words to express how grateful I am. I love y'all so much. <3

The rest of the house was surprisingly plain, considering its underbelly. Rey and Finn slept on the second floor, and Poe, as their driver, had an adjoining room on the first floor. The facade was one of a normal, functioning Gilead household, with Angel, Wife, and their help all existing in perfect harmony. Part of you wanted to know more about Finn and Rey’s marriage--did they love each other, was it arranged, how had they managed to create the Resistance--but you couldn’t think of a polite way to ask.

Perhaps that was more conditioning. You couldn’t remember if questions like that had appeared unimportant before Gilead.

“Anyway, that’s all for the house,” Rey said. “You’ll likely only be here a few days, but we think it’s important you know where everything is, should anything happen.”

You blinked. “Happen?”

She waved her hands dismissively. “Not that anything has! Or that we expect it to. But it’s better to be prepared.”

Somehow, this did little to ease your nerves. The reality of being involved with a treasonous group of rebels was starting to settle. Of course you could never be a spy for them. You were trying to save your life. You’d done enough risking it at the end of Kylo Ren’s cock.

Rey led you back through the den, a large room lit with tall, dim lamps and a crackling fire. Bookcases packed tight with spines adorned each wall, reaching the ceiling, and a couple of massive leather sofas framed a heavy, carved coffee table at the center. The hardwood gleamed at your feet, reflecting the flames from the fireplace. Rey trudged forward, heading toward the hearth.

“This is a little cliche, I know,” she said. “But we couldn’t think of a better deterrent than fire.”

She pulled a brick out from the side of the fireplace and tugged out a pair of thick, black gloves that went up to her elbows. After pulling them on, to your horror, she reached into the fire, digging into the logs, and yanked at a lever. Nothing happened. But she didn’t seem deterred. Next, she tore away the thick, Persian rug at the foot of the hearth, pushing back one of the slats of hardwood and using it like a handle, wrenching open a rectangular slab of wood, wisps of smoke escaping as she revealed another hidden entrance.

You shrugged, heart skipping again. “You guys have a lot of these, huh.”

Rey smiled, replacing the gloves in the brick. “Just these two. This is the more important one, though. Come on!”

With quick feet, she disappeared down the tiny staircase, the walls closing even tighter than the ones before, compressing your frame like a compactor. You weren’t as fast, surveying your path, noticing the open grate in the ceiling that hung under where the fireplace was positioned. The air was stifling, almost woolen.

“When the grate is open, it becomes pretty much impossible to breathe.” Rey was at an iron door at the end of the staircase, now, spinning the combination lock above the handle. “We hope that in the event of an emergency, it would give enough time to allow for evacuation.”

Swallowing, you nodded, as if you wanted to be worrying about an emergency. Then again, your entire life had been an emergency for the past few years. What did the change of scenery really matter? The lock clicked, and the door opened. Rey waved you on. Holding your breath, you snuck down with your skirts bunched above your ankles, crossing the threshold and into a cooler, open room. She followed, and the door clamped shut behind you.

In front of you was another area illuminated with the same battery tap lights as you’d seen in their war room, accompanied with those similar eggshell crates. Beds lined the walls, some of them occupied, others barren. At the end of the room was a closed door, light peeking out from the frame. As you glanced around the space, each time a pair of eyes landed on you, shame leapt from inside your chest and swallowed you whole. You counted three strangers corralled here, total, all dressed in sweatshirts and jeans that looked about a decade old. And inside the gazes of these strangers, you saw yourself: terrified. Desperate. Alone.

“We have a new addition today, everyone,” said Rey. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

Throwing a half-hearted wave, you mumbled your name. “Hello.”

“Right!” Her hand at your back again, she ushered you forward. “Clockwise, that’s Louise, Audrey, Gabrielle, and…” She snapped her fingers. “Where’s Sarah?”

“In the washroom,” said the one named Louise, pointing to the closed door.

“Got it.” Hand still guiding you, Rey turned you toward the door and walked you through the locking mechanism and how to get up to the main house, if necessary. “And if anything should happen--these girls know this--pull this lever right here. It opens both grates underneath the fire place. The fire is always burning. After you pull it, you all must escape through the piping in the washroom.” She looked over the room again. “You all remember that?”

The other woman called out their assent. Rey nodded, gripped your shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to get comfortable. There’s a set of clothes underneath one of the open beds. We’ll probably be serving dinner in a few hours. We bring it down here. I hope that’s okay.”

You shifted on your feet, crossing your arms. “So… I’m stuck down here, now?” Shadows stretched across the concrete floors, the tap lights too pitiful to banish them.. “Great.”

Her face fell. “I know. It’s not ideal. But…” She sighed. “Our primary goal is to keep you all safe until transport. We’ve smuggled out dozens of Handmaids with our protocols the way they are.”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

The knowledge that Ren would soon know you were gone was crushing you tighter than the walls themselves. You couldn’t imagine him honestly razing everything within 100 miles just for you--after all, you were just a Handmaid--but then you recalled the last time you’d spoken with him. The ache in his eyes. The despair.

Not one like you.

You haunt me.

A chill cast over your intestines, goosebumps sweeping over your flesh. Your tongue was dry. “When did you say the transport was, again?” You tried to wipe your sweating palms on your skirts.

Rey’s nose twisted in consideration. “We have a contact willing to collect a shipment at the end of the week. So it probably won’t be for a few more days.”

You coughed, trying to clear the dust from your throat. You hoped you’d last that long. “Okay.”

“Everyone all right?” Rey asked, casting a glance across the room. When no one responded, she grinned, and left through the iron door, sealing it tight behind her.

A long, heavy sigh left you, and you turned back to the room, again meeting the anxious gazes of the other women. You shuffled over to an empty bed, reaching underneath it, finding, to no surprise, a pair of baggy jeans and a large sweatshirt. You sat down with a loud squeak, mattress deflating like marshmallow underneath you. Every bed in here was covered with mismatched sheets, the frames combinations of screwed together steel bars and wooden slats.

You regarded the set of clothing with some degree of confusion. The thought of putting them on your body seemed foreign. Wrong. The red dress of your captivity didn’t seem right, either, but at least it was familiar.

“I promise that once you put that stuff on, it feels so much better.” One of the women approached you--the one named Audrey. Her dark hair was short. Very short. She must have cut it the second she was free. “It’s totally weird at first, though.”

“Yeah.” The sweatshirt was grey, stained, with colorful stripes across the chest area that had faded with time. “I don’t really want to change in front of everyone, though…”

“Don’t!” she said. “Sarah will be out in a second. You can change there.”

You nodded, glimpsing the other women watching you. “How long have you… all of you been here?”

“It’s been about a week for me,” Audrey said with a laugh. “My Commander hasn’t given a shit that I’ve been gone.”

“We both came in the middle of the night a few nights ago,” Louise said, gesturing between herself and Gabrielle. Louise had a crooked nose, and her long, blonde hair was tied in braids and piled on top of her head. “I didn’t know if she’d make it!”

Gabrielle shrugged. “You basically bullied me into it.”

“Oh, please,” Louise said. “Don’t act like you weren’t desperate to get out of Dopheld’s house.”

She sighed. “You’re right.” Gabrielle looked at you. Her eyes were dark pools. “I was just scared.”

Audrey nodded. “We were all totally scared.”

“Well,” you said. “That makes four of us.”

“Five.” Louise tilted her head toward the washroom door.

“Has anyone checked on Sarah?” Gabrielle’s nose wrinkled in concern. “She’s been in there a while.”

You blinked. “Checked on her?” It seemed rude to just… check on someone because they were taking a while in the bathroom. Everyone had their bodily struggles.

Audrey stood. “I’ll do it.” She crossed to the door, rapping it with a single knuckle. “Sarah? Are you okay?”

Frowning, your gaze switched between Louise and Gabrielle, hoping they’d provide you with some sort of context. The hesitation in their expression tightened your chest. Dread loomed over you again, a creature ready to consume.

“What is it?” you whispered. “What’s going on with Sarah?”

“Sarah got here last night.” Louise’s voice floated in the air. “She… She’s having a hard time.”

Audrey rapped again. “Sarah? Open the door, hon.”

A tiny whimper rippled from beyond the door. “Leave me alone.”

“Come on, Sare. You’ve been in there for an hour. You’ve gotta come out at some point.”

The hidden voice was tattered, like fabric with more holes than weave. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Louise called, frowning. “There’s a new person here. She needs to get comfortable too.”

“A new person?” A loud sniffle, and shuffling behind the door. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know--”

Audrey stood back from the threshold. “It’s okay, hon--”

The door swung open, revealing a young woman--perhaps the youngest out of all of you--in a sleeved shirt and sweatpants, her long hair swarmed in a nest around her head, her cheeks a furious red. She sniffled again, which stoked the uneasiness in your heart, but what set it aflame was the rest of her appearance. Her hands were shredded, knuckles purple and puffy, and her right eye was an ugly, dead black, swollen shut, accompanying a massive knot at her forehead. A scab crept over a split in her lower lip.

Your jaw dropped. Sarah plodded out of the bathroom, gaze trained on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know someone else was here.”

“Don’t--uh, don’t apologize,” you said. “I… I only just got here, so…”

She nodded, plopping down on her bed. You sought out direction from the other women, feeling helpless. To get up and just go change seemed a little sociopathic at the moment.

Audrey sat next to Sarah on her bed. “How are you feeling, hon?”

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. I keep thinking I see him out of the corner of my eye.” She was blank, numbed to her surroundings. “My… my other eye, I mean.”

“I know.” Audrey offered a sympathetic smile, rubbing her back. “You’re free, now, though. You won’t ever have to go back to his house again.”

Something slithered from the depths of your psyche and seized you, coiling around you, strangling the air from your lungs. Guilt.

“Your… uh, your Commander did this?” Your voice was stretched like film over your throat.

Sarah peeked at you, nodded. “When he learned I wasn’t pregnant.”

Guilt now snaked its way into your vessels, stuffed you with its presence. “I… I’m really sorry.”

She shrugged, face blank once more. “I just want to be able to sleep through the night again.”

“Me too,” said Gabrielle. “I get so tired of looking over my shoulder every day.” She shivered, shaking off a memory.

“Ooh, I know.” Louise reached up and pulled her braids from their spiral. “And to never have to smell his breath again.”

“Or just see his face in general!” Audrey chuckled. “I’m tired of being called a pig.”

“A pig?” You blushed when you realized it was you that had spoken. “Sorry. That’s terrible.”

Audrey shrugged, offering a wry, pained grin. “Wasn’t as bad as when he slapped me.”

With every admission of abuse, more oxygen escaped your body. Of course, your situation was no more enviable--you knew this, logically--but there was something different about your desperate, impassioned rendezvous with Kylo Ren in comparison to these women who were literally being beaten. And worse. Kylo Ren was possessive, manipulative, controlling, perhaps even heartless--but at least you’d wanted every single finger he laid on you.

In the end, you were running because there was a dark, awful part of you that wanted more than just sex, and the battle with your desire put your life at risk. These women were running because they wanted less--less of all of it. The realization lit a match to the kindling of your guilt.

“Do other Commanders know about this?” For some reason, you wanted permission to be enraged. “That this happens?”

Gabrielle snorted. “Of course they do. Some of them even team up, if you’re unlucky enough.”

“Team up?” Your jaw tensed.

“Whatever you take that to mean,” Louise said, “that’s what it means.”

Gabrielle leaned forward, scanning you. “You can’t really be that ignorant,” she said. “You lived it, too.”

“Come on, now. Her Commander must’ve been one of the low-ranks,” said Audrey. “Who was he?”

You looked between them, face hot. The words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. You were ignorant. There was no one to blame but yourself. You’d wrapped yourself in the protective sheet of your Commander’s attention, so twisted and obsessed with your own misery you’d never taken time to truly consider his role in maintaining the system. Kylo Ren hadn’t just subjugated you--he’d subjugated all of Gilead, propped it up on false limbs and shielded it from criticism. By default, he protected each one of the men that these women were running from. By default, he was complicit in, an agent of their power. By default, he was corrupt.

By default, he deserved to be brought down.

“Hello?” Louise waved. “Anyone there?”

You snapped to attention. “Sorry!” you said. “What, uh, what was the question?”

“I just asked who your Commander was,” Audrey replied. “You don’t have to--”

“Kylo Ren,” you replied, and found yourself standing. “Please excuse me.”

“Kylo--” Gabrielle stuttered. “Isn’t he right under--”

“Yeah, he’s Commander Snoke’s right-hand man!”

“She’s his Handmaid? She got away?”

“Doesn’t that make it more dangerous for us?”

“It totally doesn’t, we’re already running.”

Your brain was too busy spinning with newfound purpose. You’d walked over to the door, hands quaking as they worked to unlock the exit as Rey had instructed. Behind you, the other Handmaids were chattering, their stares like weights on your back. Blood rushed by your ears, pulse thumping at your temple, beating with a burgeoning power. The door opened, and you slipped beyond it, holding your breath through the hot tunnel to the main house. Your limbs were moving faster, shoving open the hatch, punching away the heavy rug, and you scrambled out, tripping over your feet as you stumbled through the house.

“Rey?” you called. “Finn? Poe?”

It was strange, how threatening silence could be in this world. You crossed through the den, peeking around the corners, searching like a hound. There was something boiling inside you, like a geyser, ready to explode through your skin, wrench you apart with its insistence. You could feel the words on your tongue, taste them, and they were begging to be given life, to find release.

“Rey!” you shouted up the stairs. “Finn! Poe!”

Still no response. Dread again, descending onto your shoulders, hijacking your heart, your breath coming faster, cycling through your lungs. If something had happened, making a ton of noise likely wouldn’t help. You sucked in a deep breath. You hadn’t checked outside. Gathering your skirts, you slunk to the back door, popping the locks and prying it open, inch by inch. Voices hit your ears. You froze. You couldn’t see them--they were around the corner, in the garden.

“We did rush the transport.” It was Finn. Relief tugged at your mind--but he sounded concerned. “The contact still says they won’t be able to make it for another 48 hours.”

“Dammit.” That was Poe. “And no response from bunker?”

“They’re full,” a voice you recognized as Rey’s replied. “They just took in another on emergency.”

“Shit!” A frustrated sigh escaped him. “I thought we’d at least have half a day to figure out where we’d move her.”

Your stomach flipped. Her. You?

“Well, this is Ren we’re talking about,” Finn replied. “We knew how he might get.”

Now your stomach lurched. Yes, you.

“We still have a few hours,” said Rey. “According to our intel, he’s only just now received report his Handmaid was taken off the streets for re-education. Even assuming he abandons his post, he’ll still need to figure out she never made it to a Red Center and find out who took her.”

More nagging guilt. How hard they were working, just to keep you safe. To keep you from him.

“Should we file the missing report to the Eyes?”

You didn’t want to be rude. But new guilt was morphing, too, liquefying to rage in your belly.

“I’m already on it.” Finn sighed. “Let’s just go with the plan as-is, for now. We don’t know what his intentions are. He might not even come here.”

Your fists clenched. You wanted him to.

“This would’ve been so much easier if she had agreed to work with us,” Poe mumbled.

You trembled, roiled through with fury for the women in the basement, for your saviors, for Johana and Emma and Rose, for--hell, yourself. All of you pinned underneath the monstrosity built by Ren and the Commanders like him, some of you struggling with trembling knees, others collapsing, devoured by the machine as they strained to support its weight. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the backyard.

Rey sighed. “Well, she didn’t--”

“Wait.” Your voice was cold and foreign. Finn, Poe, and Rey turned the corner from the patio, mouths parted in shock. “I’ll do it.”

A smile cracked Poe’s face. “You will?”

“Really?” Rey grinned.

“Yes. I’ll do it. I’ll be your spy.”

A flock of birds scattered from the yard, taking off into the dusky sky.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #handmaid au #little bird #fanfiction problems

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kbandtrash · 5 years ago

Text

Surrounded (Mafia Crossover AU)(Part 1)

~Megan~

Masterlist

Day6/N.Flying/The Rose/Like any other kband honestly x Reader

Warnings: Violence, self-harm

Word Count: 2k

You opened your eyes for what felt like the millionth time. You looked around to make sure you were still in the dark, cold room you had been in for years. You were. You looked out the tall door's window and found the back of Jae's head. "Jae!" you whispered.

He turned. “Y/N! You're awake?" "Yes!" He nodded. "I assume you want to know how long you've been here?" You nodded energetically. "Please?" Jae sighed. "You know I can't tell you." You sunk down on the floor, your head scraping against the wall. "Jae... can you tell me why I'm here?" He seemed surprised. In the three years you had been there, you had never asked him why. “Y/N... do you still not remember anything before being in here?" "No, I don't remember." He leaned against the bars in the window. "Hon, you're a prisoner of war between two large Mafias." You blinked. "What? Mafia?" He nodded, light behind his head reminding you of his blonde hair. "Yes, Mafia. You were part of our enemy and you were the most treasured. I haven't figured out why, but you seem to have been their good luck charm. Without you, they haven't won a fight." "But why do you keep me here? Do I have to be in a cell, or could I just live among your—" Jae banged his fist against the door suddenly. "That's enough. Y/N, they were thinking of killing you. Murdering you. But as long as they can keep you here, they won't kill you." "Why the heck would they want to kill me?!" You sat up quickly, pulling against your chains bound around your wrists. "There were things you'd done... and, hon, you definitely don't want to remember them." You continued to pull against the chains. They had grown weaker since being replaced some time ago. You ignored Jae as you yanked them. "Y/N, if you keep doing that I'm going to have to get them replaced again. That would be the fifth time you'd have gotten them replaced, so why do you still bother? It'll all be for nothing." You relaxed and looked at Jae. "I don't care." You yanked one last time, and the chains snapped away from the wall. Jae jumped, startled. "Y/N!" He ran from the door, shouting. "She broke the chains! She broke the chains!" You knew you had to act fast. You stood by the door and reached your hand up and out of the barred window. You found the keys. "Wow, these guys don't know how easy these are to get." You reached down to unlock the door, but found that it was too far. You dropped the keys as you noticed a man coming down the hall with a knife. You ducked back inside the chamber and huddled into a corner. You should've known it wouldn't be that easy. The door unlocked and the man came in. "What the heck were you thinking, girl?" You looked up, meeting a pair of wide eyes. The man shook his head at you and then offered you a hand. "You're lucky we decided to do something with you today." You hugged your knees tightly. He saw your scarred knees and arms from what looked like your own hands scratching them. He stepped back, looking out the door for a second. "Look, if you want to be spared, you'll have to come with me." You quivered, pressing up against the wall as much as you could. You shook your head firmly. He kneeled in front of you, knowing you were going nowhere for a while. "Y/N, is it?" You stiffened. "Yeah." You started scratching at your arms. You didn't give yourself mercy and they split open easily, spilling blood. The man wasn't fazed. He worked for a Mafia. Blood wasn't strange to him. "Don't do that." You stopped and looked at your arms with surprise in your eyes. "Did I do that?!" He nodded, slowly becoming more worried for you. "You did. Is that something you do often?" "I... I don't know. I've been in here so long that I kind of lost my mind." The man nodded in understanding. "Well, I'm Seunghyub, by the way." He held out his hand. You shook it, and he immediately pulled you off the ground. He looked around the room for a second and spotted the place the chains had broken off. He noticed your arms still bound by the metal. He took out a key and reached for your wrists. You flinched but held them out so he could release you. His hands came away bloody, but he had taken off the chains. "Come with me, Y/N." He began to walk out the door into a brighter room. Though dim, you flinched at the light. He frowned, but dragged you along anyway. You reached a staircase and he began to climb. He felt you lagging and turned to see your legs shaking and your hand pulling you up with the railing. You hadn't used your legs much in the last few years. "I'm sorry, sir. I haven't used stairs... I don't know how long." You chuckled nervously as you continued to wobble up the steps. He changed his position and stood behind you, his hand on the small of your back to keep you going. You stumbled a little near the top and began to fall backwards, but Jae was at the top and noticed. He reached to grab your hand and pulled you up the rest of the way. "Thanks, Jae." "No problem, Y/N." You smiled warily at him and found your footing at the top. Seunghyub placed his hand on your shoulder as you looked up to see the room in front of you. A long table took up half of the room, where at least twenty men in about their twenties sat. They were silent as they stared at you. Seunghyub noticed you scratching your arms again. He grabbed them and put them at her sides. "Morning, Sungjin." The man at the head of the table with soft-looking black hair nodded. His nose was noticeably big and shaped like a teardrop. He was handsome nonetheless. "Thank you, Seunghyub. Would you mind taking her to the infirmary?" Seunghyub nodded. Jae cleared his throat. "Sungjin, could I go with them? I spent the most time with Y/N, so she might be more comfortable with me around." Their boss, Sungjin, smiled, nodding again. Jae took his position next to you and they led you down the hall just outside the room. It was a quick but quiet walk to their destination. You sat on a bed. Almost instantly, a man came out from behind a curtain separating the room into two halves. He was somewhat feminine, but still boyishly handsome. He smiled a boxy smile. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Wonpil, and I'll be your nurse for today. Your name is Y/N, right?" You nodded hesitantly. You looked at Jae for reassurance, and he nodded. Wonpil was holding a clipboard, writing on a paper quickly. "How old are you?" You bit your lip and shrugged. Jae cut in. "She's 23." Wonpil looked at you strangely but nodded, writing the number down. "I'm going to tell you something." He paused and sat next to you, not too close. He set down his clipboard and pulled out a box of bandages and Neosporin. He began cleaning your arm gently with a damp rag. You flinched. "I assume Jae has already told you that you're a war prisoner." "Y-yeah." "So you do talk!" He chuckled. "Well, you are not only a prisoner. You are a weapon. We had to keep you locked up for a long time to clear your body of inhuman processes." He pressed too hard on your wound for a second and you jumped. "A... a weapon? What do you..." He frowned. "The Mafia group you were part of had taken you in. You were an orphan, from what I've been told. But instead of caring for you like a normal family would, they used you as a lab rat." You bit your lip harder and it began to bleed. You didn't notice. Wonpil jumped. "Oh, don't... here." He reached for another rag and pressed it to your lip. "Hold that there." You obliged and shrunk into your shoulders, embarrassed. "Sorry." "No, it's okay. Just don't do it again." You nodded in understanding and waited for him to finish. He took the hint and continued. "Well, they found a way to turn you into a kind of... superhuman. We don't know what you could do, but it was very dangerous. One day, during a battle, we found you hanging from a tree, with a noose around your neck." "Did I try to kill myself, really?" Wonpil shook his head. "You were supposed to be dead. There were signs of a big struggle, so you had been murdered. The thing is, you weren't dead." Jae nodded. "I was the one who found you. I remember seeing you entirely dead with the rope cutting into your neck. But when I got you down, you were alive." Seunghyub laughed strangely. "That was the miracle, but then within five minutes you had stopped bleeding and had no scars on your neck." You blinked and pulled the rag from your mouth. "I have a feeling that's not everything." "No," Wonpil agreed, "but that's all we know." By this time he had cleaned and wrapped both of your arms. "Y/N, how long do you think you've been in a cell?" "I've been in the dungeon for about three years now, I would say." Jae coughed suddenly. He looked at you with guilt in his eyes. Wonpil sighed. "We've had you here for five years. You were eighteen when we found you." You felt your jaw drop. "Five... five years. Eighteen. I'm twenty three. Are you kidding?" Wonpil shook his head. "Uh-uh... Y/N, do you have any other places you scratch?" Seunghyub pointed to your legs while you pointed to the back of your head. Wonpil sighed to himself, getting another rag wet. "Well," Seunghyub began, "as soon as we're done in here with Wonpil, I'm going to take you to your room. And don't think you'll be sitting around all the time. You get to be trained for fighting." You didn't answer while Wonpil scrubbed you down. After a few minutes of silence, Wonpil was done and advised you to shower when you had the chance. "And try not to hurt yourself again." Seunghyub nodded and Jae helped you off the bed. You stumbled when your feet hit the floor and almost collapsed. Jae chuckled and swept you up off the floor, carrying you. You widened your eyes in surprise but relaxed immediately. They brought you to a door different than the other ones. Instead of being black or white like the rest of the large house, it was a light purple. Jae set you down on the large bed. Your long hair fell into your mouth. You pulled it out of your mouth quickly and set it to the side. It was long and quite pretty. It had grown to your hips and was hardly ratted, despite not being brushed for five years. The two boys smiled at you. You laid back and stared at the ceiling blankly. "Get some rest," Seunghyub called as he made his way out the door. "We'll send in some maids later." You tried to get comfortable in the bed. You weren't used to the softness and warmth. You hopped off and curled up on the floor.

Part 2

#day6 #n.flying #the rose #day6 fanfic #n.flying fanfic #the rose fanfic #day6 x reader #n.flying x reader #the rose x reader #day6 au #n.flying au #the rose au #kpop #crossover #surrounded #megan

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saiilorstars · 5 years ago

Text

The Beginning of Everything

Ch. 20: The Unicorn, the Wasp and the Golden Girl

// Story Masterlist //

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Female OC x 10th Doctor

(OC Renata’s Face claim: Marjorie de Sousa) (Gabby’s face claim: Victoria Moroles)

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Chapter Summary: The idea was to attend a nice, relaxing party in the 1920s, but instead the group get an alien bee and a thief. Still, it's one of the few times that the Doctor sees Renata genuinely excited over a trip...she gets to work with an author she admires, Agatha Christie!

"The 1920s? Are we really going to the 1920s?" Gabby followed Renata around the TARDIS wardrobe room like a lost puppy. "New York!?"

Renata scoffed very uncharacteristically. "I think not. I specifically told the Doctor you were not allowed there."

Gabby's pout resembled that of a child being told 'no'. "Why not?"

"Because I've been there…" Renata began looking through a rack of 20s clothing, "...and it is not a place for you. It's full of alcohol and violence and humans are very susceptible to it."

"But there was prohibition there!"

Renata scoffed again. "And you really think that was the end of it? Ever heard of speakeasies?"

Gabby's face lit up at the mention of the family establishments. "Yes!"

"Not gonna happen!"

Gabby pouted again. "Dammit!"

"Language," Renata calmly reminded while she looked through a few dresses.

Gabby moped as she moved around a few racks herself. "So if we're not going to New York in the 20s, where are we going?"

~0~

The Doctor was getting impatient with his friends. Yes he was aware that he wasn't the most patient man as it was but he felt like this time it was appropriate. There he stood outside the TARDIS, in front of a beautiful home and no one was there with him. "Would you hurry up?" he banged on the TARDIS doors. "We'll be late for cocktails!"

Donna was the first to poke her head out and reveal a nice, black and orange dress on her that hung a few inches above her knees. Her ginger curls we're nearly tucked into a small low bun. "What do you think? Flapper or slapper?"

"Flapper. You look lovely," the Doctor gestured her to come on out already and was relieved to catch Renata and Gabby's forms coming out from the corridors. "We're going to be late!"

"We're not even invited!" Renata shouted just as they'd come out.

"You want to shout that a little louder?" Donna pointer over her shoulder where the party was going on.

"Sorry," Renata did apologize before setting her eyes on the Doctor. "And you...are you sure coming to an elegant home is the way to stay down-low?"

"Mhm, yup," he answered fairly fast. His attention was mostly on her choice of dress.

She had chosen a white-gold dress with a mermaid scale pattern with golden fringe down the waist. The gold outlined each scale pattern as well as the hemline of the sweetheart neckline. Her usual long hair was tucked someway that made it her hair seemed like it a true 1920s haircut. Her face was brightened with a light, natural makeup.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

The Doctor was reminded of her 1913 look and wouldn't you know it? It brought up the same feelings - he didn't even realize he still had them. What was he supposed to do with them? Get rid of them, what else!? They were itty-bitty things that were so irrelevant he shouldn't even pay attention to them.

That's the plan! Now let's execute it...

"Oh wow, this is a really big house!" Gabby's excitement pulled the Doctor's attention. She was staring at the two-story house across from them with a gaping mouth. Her sapphire blue flapper dress twirled as she spun to look at every single detail of the garden.

"Hey, I helped you put that hair into a bun - don't ruin it!" Renata called in exasperation. She had properly placed Gabby's hair into a sophisticated bun and even stuck one of those black and blue feathers Gabby swore the movies always had. "Gabriella!"

Gabby stopped spinning but she laughed at Renata's face. Her face went red way too easy! "Sorry."

"Well how about instead of staring at the house we actually go to the party?" Donna sarcastically gestured towards the back garden. Here they were wasting time just staring.

"Sounds good to me!" Gabby laughed and took the lead, despite not really knowing where she was going.

"Gabriella, hold on!" Renata called but Gabby didn't listen.

"Ah let her go, it's more interesting this way," the Doctor grinned. He held her arm for Renata to take and despite her initial reluctance, she linked her arm through his.

"I guess I'll just go solo," Donna quietly though she said it with a smile. It was just too funny sometimes.

Gabby was the first one to reach the lawn and when she did she was mesmerized. There were a few tables lining the area, each full of snacks and refreshments. A few servants were finishing up setting the last of the food on the tables. There was a record player set at the right, playing soothing background music. It was all so real.

Gabby was beaming.

"Good afternoon!" the Doctor happily greeted the staff.

"I'm beginning to think that Gabriella really should have taught you the definition of 'down low' instead of me," Renata whispered to him. Gabby thought it was important for Renata to start learning more about humans and their daily vocabulary, but Renata honestly thought slang words were horrendous. Why butcher up words when there was a proper word to use instead? Like 'down low'. What even was that? Gabby had a good time explaining to Renata what the words meant, even crossing into the 'low key' territory where Renata completely got lost.

"Drink, sir? Madam?" one of the waiters, Davenport, came up to the pair.

Donna was quick to put herself beside Renata to order. "Sidecar, please!"

Gabby turned as well, still overly excited, "Oh and I want-"

"-something without alcohol," Renata finished for her. "And same for me."

"Lime and soda, thank you," the Doctor went last.

Gabby huffed at Renata. "You're my friend, not my mother!"

"But you're still not 21. Plus, you're going to want to remember this," Renata made a gesture to the garden.

Just as Gabby was about to respond, one of the waiters, Greeves, made an announcement for the group. "May I introduce Lady Clemency Eddison."

A petite, blonde woman dressed fancily arrived at the scene with a flashy smile. She soon spotted the group but unlike Renata who was already feeling nervous of their uninvited presence, the Doctor was eager to meet her.

"Lady Eddison!" he shook the woman's hand like he was talking to an old friend.

Lady Eddison looked at him for a couple seconds while she tried to place him. "Excuse me, but who exactly might you be…and what are you doing here?"

"I'm the Doctor," he answered easily.

"And I'm Gabby!" Gabby was just as excited at the Doctor when she pushed her way beside him to shake Lady Eddison's hand too.

"We're about to be thrown out," Renata brought a hand to her forehead and sighed.

"Just go with it," Donna nudged her on the side before moving up to introduce herself next. "And I'm Donna Noble."

"Renata Cartwright," the Time Lady weakly said afterwards. She was calling this trip over now.

The Doctor flashed his psychic paper in front of Lady Eddison's face. "We were thrilled to receive your invitation, my lady. We met at the ambassador's reception."

There was an immediate 'recognition' in the woman's face, one that utterly disgusted Renata.

How fake, she thought.

"Doctor, how could I forget you? But one must be sure with the Unicorn on the loose!"

Gabby gasped so deeply that those around her stopped to look at her. "A unicorn!? Are there real unicorns here!?" she started spinning around to catch sight of the unicorn until Renata forced her to stop, but by that time Gabby was a bit dizzy.

"Uh, the Unicorn. The jewel thief?" Lady Eddison clarified, though her gaze lingered on Gabby for a second. "And nobody knows who he is. He's just struck again. Snatched Lady Babbington's pearls right from under her nose."

"Funny place to keep pears," Donna mumbled to Gabby and quietly snickered together.

"May I announce the Col Hugh Curbishley, the Hon Roger Curbishley!"

The trio then saw a young man pushing an older man in a wheelchair towards the party.

"My husband. And my son," Lady Eddison moved to join them just as they arrived.

"Forgive me for no rising. Never been the same since the flu epidemic back in '18," the older man, Hughes, laughed.

"My word! You are a super lady!" the younger man, Roger, exclaimed at Renata.

The woman seemed at a cross between amusement and confusion. "Um...thank you?"

"I''m the Doctor," the Doctor cut in to shake hands with Roger.

"How do you do?"

"Very well, thanks."

Davenport walked up with Roger with drinks on a tray. "Your usual, sir."

Roger took one of the glasses from the tray. "Ah, thank you, Davenport. Just how I like it."

Donna lightly tapped the Doctor's arm. "How come she's an Eddison but her husband and son are Curbishleys?"

"The Eddison title descends through her. One day Roger will be a Lord."

"That can't end well," Renata said. She got a ditzy vibe from the son.

"Miss Robina Redmond," the same waiter announced again.

A young dark haired woman walked up to the party in a confident stride. Even her smirk promised a party.

"She's the absolute hit of the social season. A must," Lady Eddison said as she moved to personally greet the woman. "Miss Redmond!"

Robina seemed to love the attention. "Spiffing to meet you at last, my lady!"

Another guest arrived and turned out to be a Reverend, Arnold Golightly.

"Ah, Reverend! How are you?" Lady Eddison greeted him personally as well. "I heard about the church last Thursday night, those ruffians breaking in."

"You apprehended them, I hear," Hugh added.

"As the Christian fathers taught me, we must forgive them their trespasses," Golightly said. "Quite literally.

"Some of these young boys deserve a decent thrashing," Rogers declared.

Davenport happened to pass by and momentarily stopped by him. "Couldn't agree more, sir." They seemed to share a moment of mutual stare.

"Typical. All the decent men are on the other bus," Donna muttered, making Gabby chuckle.

"Or Time Lords," the Doctor thought to add, making Renata playfully roll her eyes.

"Oh stop it you two," she said.

"Now my lady, what about this special guest you promised us?" Golightly inquire once a the others guests were settled.

Lady Eddison was proud as she made a gesture towards an incoming woman. "Here she is. A lady who needs no introduction."

Everyone began to applaud as a woman joined the party, though unlike Robina this woman seemed more humble as she smiled at them.

"Oh, no. Please don't. Thank you, Lady Eddison," the blonde woman gave a personal greet to Lady Eddison. "Honestly, there's no need." She moved to greet the travelers. "Agatha Christie."

Donna shook hands with her, none the wiser about the woman's real identity. "What about her?"

"That's me!" the woman clarified.

Renata suddenly gasped and staggered back a few steps. "What!?" she'd even lost air in that one second.

The Doctor was the one to pull her back - an act that was shocking to him - and steadied her on her feet. "Are you alright?"

"N-no! That's-that's Agatha Christie!" Renata could barely put her words together. And seeing the author come towards her after greeting Gabby made Renata fall onto the Doctor's side.

"Hello," Agatha Christie extended a hand to shake with Renata but the Time Lady was still in shock to move. The Doctor had to physically move her off his side and make sure she wouldn't fall back before shaking hands with Agatha.

"You are brilliant!" he exclaimed, making Agatha blush of embarrassment. "I was just talking about you the other day, actually. I said, 'I bet she's brilliant'. I'm the Doctor and this is-" he only stopped to see how Renata was doing but she was still staring wide-eyed, "Oh, I love your stuff! What a mind! You fool me every time. Well…almost every time. Well…once or twice. Well…once. But it was a good once-"

Renata finally came back to life and whacked his arm. "Shut up. Hi!" she shook hands with Agatha, a smile quickly forming across her face, "I'm Renata and I adore your books. I'm not much for human authors but you..." she dramatically gasped, though in her mind it was a justified gasp, and laughed, "...you are an amazing author!"

"I have never seen Renata so excited like this," Gabby whispered to Donna who hummed in agreement. It was novelty. Renata rarely showed emotions like this, especially so heightened. She laughed and smiled here and there but she was always the calm one. Sometimes Gabby wondered how Renata managed to do that even when the situations just begged for a roaring laugh or a wild reaction. It was graceful, but it was also odd.

And now here she was, finally expressing a loud delight. Gabby couldn't get over it. The smile on Renata's face seemed like it would crack her face any moment now, but even then she wouldn't stop.

"But it's kind of familiar," Donna said suddenly, tilting her head for a moment as she studied Renata.

"She's brilliant!" the Doctor joined Renata with the same beaming face. "I have all of your books! And I literally mean all of them!"

"He does!" Renata nodded fairly fast that Agatha was concerned the woman would hurt herself. "We read them together! It's always so shocking even though we already read the books!" She laughed, almost squealing, as along with the Doctor.

"Oh," Donna suddenly went, her eyes widening while Gabby looked at her questionably. "Now I see why it's so familiar. They're the same person."

"What!?" Gabby made a face, about to politely tell Donna that was most ridiculous thing ever when she turned her attention back to Renata and the Doctor. The pair were hanging onto each other's arms, excitedly rambling on about all the books they'd read from Agatha. "Oh..." Gabby brought a hand up to her mouth in time to muffle her laughter, but only slightly.

That was hilarious.

"Now I can see it," Donna whispered to Gabby then. It was no longer news that Renata had some secret feelings for the Doctor and Donna honestly didn't know if that would actually work out solely because of the Time Lords contradicting personalities. The Doctor was too him to ever be able to keep up with Renata's routines and calm personality, and Renata was too her to keep running with the Doctor. But now Donna had no doubt that it would so work. They complimented each other without even realizing it.

Agatha already disliked the huge attention she often got but at least right now she was amused. "Thank you, thank you," she managed to cut into the pair's ongoing ramble but her hand may have hurt a little after so much shaking. "You, uh, make a rather fitting couple."

That comment froze Renata for a minute. She exchanged a look with the Doctor. Their blushes were the same.

"We're not married," the Doctor shook his head.

"And we're definitely not a couple!" Renata was quick to add and untangled herself from the Doctor's arm. She didn't even realize when she grabbed it!

"Obviously not—no wedding ring," Agatha pointed to Renata's hands.

Renata did a double-take at her hands, as if she'd forgotten that she truly had no wedding ring, and laughed. "No, of course not!"

"I'd stay that way if I were you," Agatha leaned a bit closer to Renata. "The thrill is in the chase, never in the capture."

Renata caught Agatha's gaze flickering between her and the Doctor and soon felt the warmth creep up on her face. "Oh! No, he's not - there is no chase...at all…" she exchanged another awkward glance with the Doctor. "...right?"

"Mhm," the Doctor looked away while his own blush faded. Why would he want to chase her? Him? Chase her? Of course not!

"This just got really interesting," Donna told Gabby and Gabby almost felt like scolding Donna for her smirk but...it was a bit funny still.

"Mrs Christie, I'm so glad you could come," Lady Eddison cut in - Renata thanked the heavens - and turned Agatha towards her and the others. "I'm one of your greatest followers. I've read all six of your books. Uh, is, uh, Mr Christie not joining us?"

The question made Agatha's face go flat. "Is he needed?" even her tone had gone sour for a second. "Can't a woman make her own way in the world?"

"Yeah," Gabby did a fist in the air, one that Donna quickly lowered.

"Mrs Christie, I have a question," Roger raised a finger. "Why a Belgian detective?"

With the crowd distracted, the Doctor asked for the newspaper Hugh had. He pulled Renata with him, prompting Donna and Gabby to do the same.

"The date on this newspaper…" the Doctor skimmed the newspaper but most of his attention was on the date. "It's the day Agatha Christie disappeared."

"I remember that," Renata pointed at him while she thought back to her own days in the 20s. "It was a huge story because…" she gasped and looked at Agatha with a newfound emotion, "She just discovered her husband was having an affair."

"You'd never think to look at her smiling away," Gabby tilted her head and let her gaze follow Agatha as the author mingled with each of the guests.

"Well, she's British and moneyed. That's what they do—they carry on," the Doctor shrugged. "Except for this one time. No one knows exactly what happened—she just vanished."

"I remember reading the newspapers and...nobody ever figured out why she disappeared," Renata now cautiously looked around their area, as if whatever the reason would pop up in a moment. "If I remember correctly, her car will be found tomorrow morning by the side of a lake. Ten days later she turns up at a hotel in Harrogate. All she said was that she'd lost her memory but...I mean...I think she was just lying."

"Why?" asked Donna.

"She just found out her husband had an affair! She wanted some time alone!"

"Well...I guess..." Donna shrugged. It did sound a logical reason but maybe there was something else that happened, who knew.

Renata cleared her throat and pulled him away from the other two women to speak in a quieter voice. "Whatever happened to Agatha is going to happen today...and we are going to be smack in the middle."

But unlike her who was worried, the Doctor beamed. "I know, isn't it great!? So exciting!"

"No!" Renata hissed. "It means we brought Donna and Gabriella to another dangerous trip. Maybe we should just go."

"Oh no, we can't do that! Look at how happy they are," the Doctor made a quick gesture to Donna and Gabby who'd drifted towards the food. "Plus, you certainly seemed happy a few minutes ago. I'd definitely liked to see more of that, if I'm being honest."

Renata crossed her arms, not entirely convinced. "I'm happy plenty of times."

"C'mon Renée, loosen up a bit. You've had better times when you do that." He was careful as he uncrossed her arms for her, but he knew he was good when she started fighting a smile. "There we go. Let me show you around, yeah?"

She scoffed but laughed in the end. "Show me what? The refreshments?"

He playfully rolled his eyes and offered her his arm. "C'mon!" She sighed but linked her arm with his again. "We can take a walk along the garden later on, if you'd like?"

"To me that sounds perfect but to you I'm sure it sounds boring."

"Yeah but it makes you happy and that's what I want for you."

Renata looked up at him in surprise, but her smile was quick to come back...along with another blush. "I am happy here, you know. I just can't help but worry about the dangers."

"I'm sure things will be fine-"

"The professor!" the housekeeper, Miss Chandrakala, came running towards the party. "The library! Murder! Murder!"

Renata's face fell flat and when she looked up at the Doctor again, this time he had to give in. "Okay, okay," he would give her the point.

~ 0 ~

The travelers, with Agatha, had ran first into the library where the supposed murder had occurred. Sure enough, there was the corpse of the professor on the floor. The Doctor hurried in first and bent down to examine the corpse.

"Bashed on the back of the head. Blunt instrument," he noted and tapped the professor's watch. "Watch broke as he fell, time of death was quarter past four."

"Oh! I've watched enough Law and Order to know that this-" Gabby had picked up a piece of pipe near the desk, "-is the murder weapon."

"Call me Hercule Poirot but I reckon that's blunt enough," remarked Donna.

Agatha had wandered towards the fireplace and found a scrap of paper. Renata watched the author silently tuck the paper into her hand and said nothing about it.

"There's nothing worth killing for in this lot," the Doctor said, seeming disappointed his quick search of the paper pile on the desk had no good results.

"We need to call the police," Agatha announced and had the agreeing nods of the others who hadn't really dared come fully into the room.

"You don't have to," the Doctor whipped out his psychic paper. He heard Renata's sigh and couldn't help but smile. "Chief Inspector Smith from Scotland Yard, known as the Doctor. And these are…" he swayed his head at his friends for a second.

"Better be clever how you finish that sentence," Renata warned him in a whisper when she walked past him to the group. "We're assistants. We're just here to help out the, uh...inspector. Please go into the sitting room. We will question each of you in turn."

"Come along," Agatha ushered the group out of the room. "Do as they say. Keep the room undisturbed."

"Did Renata just lie?" Donna looked at the others with an expression akin to disbelief.

Renata turned around to them and sighed. "Please don't follow what I did. It's terrible."

"But needed," the Doctor pointed at her. He went searching for any other clues he may have missed the first time.

"Why don't we phone the real police?" Gabby asked.

"The last thing we want is PC Plod sticking his nose in. Especially…" the Doctor paused for a moment as he pulled something gooey off the floor, "...now that I've found this!"

"Do you know what 'this' is?" Renata inched closer as he got back on his feet.

"Morphic residue!"

"Morphic residue? In 1926?"

"Can we speak English for a second?" asked Gabby who was helplessly looking between the pair.

"It's something that gets left behind when certain species genetically re-encodes," the Doctor explained.

"So the murderer's an alien?" Donna blinked.

"Which means that one of that lot is an alien in human form."

"Yeah, but think about it. There's a murder, a mystery and Agatha Christie!"

"So?" the Doctor sniffed the residue in his possession. Renata crinkled her nose. He always had that habit no matter what incarnation, apparently. Would it ever stop!? "Happens to me all the time!"

"This is what I meant about danger!" Renata exclaimed.

"But it's also kind of exciting," Gabby walked up to stand beside her. "We get to figure out who did it. As an Agatha Christie fan, that's gotta be pretty exciting right?" she nudged Renata on the side.

"That's...not the point…"

"Oh just let go a bit!"

"Would everyone quit telling me to do that!" Renata groaned and stalked out of the room first.

"She'll get there," the Doctor said casually about it and followed her out.

Renata found Agatha in the alcove of the staircases. "Miss Christie, you shouldn't be out here on your own."

"I want to know who did this," Agatha said and paused when she saw the Doctor holding the residue. "What…?"

"We need to question the suspects," the Doctor said, putting the residue into a vial from his pocket. "Gabby, Donna, you search the bedrooms and look for clues." He leaned closer to them to whisper, "Any more residue," for better clarification. He put away the vial and took out two magnifying glasses in return. "You'll need this!"

Donna didn't seem as excited as Gabby was - she'd taken her magnifying glass without question.

"Doctor, I'm not sure about letting them go on their own…" Renata began but Gabby wagged her finger at her.

"Oh you can go question suspects! Bet that's exciting!"

"Yeah, I thought it'd be," the Doctor grinned. Donna rolled her eyes and took her magnifying glass and went up the stairs with Gabby. "Right then!" the Doctor turned to Renata and Agatha. "Solving a murder mystery with Agatha Christie. Brilliant!"

Agatha frowned at him. "How like a man to have fun while there's disaster all around him. I'll work with you—gladly—but for the sake of justice, not your own amusement."

The Doctor paused and took the moment to calm himself down. He may have come across as careless - it happened often.

"Hey," Renata now frowned at Agatha, "You keep your personal problems out of this. It's his personality, alright? He cares way more than anyone would." She took the Doctor's arm and led him away.

"Renée, you didn't have to do that," the Doctor said behind her, though he was smiling a bit for her defense.

Renata came to a stop outside the sitting room and turned to face him. "Let's get one thing straight, Doctor. I am a terribly difficult person but you are...wonderful, with all of your stupid grins and excitement, and I will not let anyone insult you about it. Not even Agatha Christie."

It was moments like these that truly warmed the Doctor's hearts. He knew Renata was more than what she thought of herself - that 'terribly difficult' person - and he knew that it was hard for her to express what she truly felt. So, for her to have these small moments of honesty with him...made him feel a little special. When she complimented him like this, he felt a warmth on his face that he couldn't get rid of.

He smiled at her so earnestly, so long, that it made Renata blush. She wanted to urge him to say something but...she'd lost her voice for a second. And it seemed like he had to. So, he did what he wanted to. He swooped down and kissed her cheek. She was stunned but at least she could still blink.

"Let's go interrogate some suspects," he smiled softly and took her by the hand.

"R-right…" was all Renata could say at the moment.

~ 0 ~

Reverend Golightly was first on the list to interrogate. They had given him a chair in the room, facing the Doctor, Renata and Agatha.

"Now then, Reverend… Where were you at a quarter past four?" asked the Doctor.

"Let me think," Golightly said, his gaze lowering a bit. "Why yes, I remember. I was unpacking in my room."

"Oh, so no alibi then?" Renata folded her arms. It was the easy way out. "Because you were alone."

"With the Lord, one is never truly alone."

Renata had to to her eyes. She wasn't a very firm believer anymore - that had died a very long time ago. "Next!"

Roger was second but like Golightly, she had an uncorroborated alibi. "I was taking a constitutional in the fields behind the house. Just taking a stroll, that's all."

"Alone?" Agatha inquired.

"Oh yes, all alone. Totally alone!"

Renata pulled the Doctor a bit away to whisper, "You know he's lying, right?"

"Mhm. But it's not his fault he can't openly say he was taking a walk with Davenport, can he?"

"Guess not," Renata agreed and cut him loose. As of now, he was the only one out of the suspect list.

Robina Redmond was the next suspect. But unlike her predecessors, she seemed more irritated that she was being questioned in the first place. "I went to the toilet when I arrived, and then, um, I was preparing myself. Positively buzzing with excitement about the party and the super fun of meeting Lady Eddy."

"And we've only got your word for it," the Doctor was weary of the theme going on.

Robina smirked. "That's your problem, not mine."

"It is when the threat is going to jail or being murdered," Renata's words did fade that smirk quicker than Robina had planned. "So go on then. Next!"

When Hugh came next, Renata had half a mind to tell the Doctor the man couldn't be the murderer. The professor had been far too tall for someone in a wheelchair to knock him out against the head. It just wasn't logical. Still, she let the interrogation go on but wasn't surprised when another uncorroborated alibi was given.

Lady Eddison was no better either.

"I was sitting in the blue room taking my afternoon tea. It's a ritual of mine. I needed to gather strength for the duty of hostess. I then proceeded to the lawn where I met…you, Doctor and I said "And who might you be and what are you doing here?" and you said, "I'm the Doctor-"

"Yes, yes. You can stop now. I was there for that bit!" the Doctor reminded.

After everyone had been questioned, the trio stayed in the sitting room to go over what they had...which was nothing.

"None of them have alibis which means anyone could've done it," Renata sunk into the chair the suspects had been in.

"That means we must look for a motive in order to identify the murderer," Agatha said.

"Use the little grey cells," Renata said in a sudden Belgian accent. The Doctor stopped to give her an amused look. This might just be her trip after all.

"Oh yes, little grey cells. Good old Poirot," he chuckled. "Y''know, I've been to Belgium."

"Course you've been," Renata straightened in her chair when he stopped by her.

"I was deep in the Ardennes trying to find Charlemagne…" he started to explain. Renata watched him fondly, not having the heart to stop him when he looked so happy sharing his trip. "He'd been kidnapped by an insane computer. It took me days to find him but-"

Agatha had no problem ending the memory. "Doctor! Doctor!"

The Time Lord blinked and looked at Agatha to see her more amused than anything else. "Sorry." He checked for Renata's expression but she seemed just as amused as Agatha was.

"Charlemagne lived centuries ago," remarked Agatha after a moment.

"I've got a good memory!"

"For such an experienced detective, you missed a big clue."

"What, that bit of paper you nicked out of the fireplace?" Renata surprised the author. "Yeah, I used to work with all sorts of rascals. One human-" The Doctor cleared his throat. "I mean one author, is not going to doop me," Renata quickly amended. She needed to start learning how to make herself sound more...human. Calling people 'human' was the way to expose herself. Plus, it was rude.

Agatha took out the scrap of paper and walked up to show it to them. "This is all that was left."

The Doctor studied the bit as best as he could, but he wasn't getting a lot. "What's that first letter? N or M?"

"It's an M, clearly," Renata squinted her eyes. "I think the word is maiden."

"Maiden!" the Doctor exclaimed a bit too loud that it startled the women. "What does that mean?" he asked in a whisper.

Agatha sighed and lowered the paper. "We're still no further forward. Our nemesis remains at large. Unless Miss Noble and Miss Gonzalez have found something."

~0~

"Hey, Donna, can I ask you something?" Gabby made the question just as Donna found a locked bedroom door.

"Uh, now?" Donna briefly glanced at Gabby. The door was seriously locked!

"It's important. I haven't been wanting to say anything but I also noticed that Renata and the Doctor seem really close lately-" Gabby actually flinched when Donna snorted. It was a very hard snort.

"Close? That doesn't begin to cut it!"

"Yeah, I know," sighed Gabby and caught Donna's attention.

She stopped trying to open the door - for the moment - and turned to Gabby. "Why do you say it like that? Don't tell me you suddenly have feelings-"

"Ah! No!" Gabby exclaimed and shuddered, making Donna laugh. "I don't even want to hear how that sense was going to finish! It's just...no!"

"Just had to make sure! So if that's not the problem, what is it?"

"I've been working with the Doctor on something that he's made for Renata and while we've been working... I've started to notice the way he talks about her...looks at her…"

"Right, so we're on the same page! Why are we on this again?"

Gabby sighed. "Because I know something that the Doctor should know about but Renata has forbidden me from saying anything."

"What is it?" Donna crossed her arms.

"I just said that I couldn't say anything."

"But you're obviously worried."

"I am," Gabby nodded. "It's concerning because I've come to love Renata and...she...she's in danger."

Donna blinked. "How do you mean?"

Gabby knew for a fact that the Doctor and Renata decided to keep Renata's 'infection' a secret from them. Gabby herself wasn't supposed to know but she'd eavesdropped. Still, she didn't tell either that she knew. It just wouldn't help anyone, but it wasn't. It wasn't helping Gabby that only she knew what that Ood told Renata a while ago. It was driving her mad that Renata was keeping it a secret from the Doctor, especially when he was looking after her because of the infection he knew about. If he knew about the Ood's prediction, he would try to keep Renata safe at all costs! And maybe that's what Renata needed.

"Gabby?" Donna asked again, now truly noticing the struggle Gabby was in. "Look, I won't say anything if that's what you're worried about. I'll keep your secret. You can get it off your chest with at least one person, right?"

Gabby could do with that, she could really do with that. "Back at Zhe's place, Renata and I were exposed to...alien energy? That Block transfer thing and then...and then I don't know if that's the proper term for it but that's when an Ood we learned that Renata could possibly die."

Donna tilted her head, very much interested now. She hadn't heard anything of this - she was sure the Doctor hadn't either. "Hold on, what did this thing say?"

"It just said her song might end sooner and that...that means death. I know it does. I know songs," Gabby shuddered. She couldn't fathom the idea of Renata ever dying.

"Well, the Doctor said when Time Lords die they don't actually die they-they do this sort of body changing thing," Donna tried explaining it as best as she could but even then, Gabby didn't want to hear it.

"She can't die Donna," she whispered. "I'm trying my best to keep an eye out for anything strange."

"Well, maybe we can do it together now. And we can maybe even figure out a way to make Ren talk about that nasty prediction."

"God I hope so," Gabby exhaled deeply. "I've tried talking to Renata about it. I tried convincing her that she should say something to the Doctor - get his help, you know? Who better to heal her than the Doctor, right?" she nervously smiled. "But she hasn't. And she's going to get really hurt if she keeps it a secret. And what worries me too is that, well, like you said, she and the Doctor are getting really close and if something bad does happen to Renata…"

"He'll be heartbroken," Donna finished for her with a saddened smile. "Or heartsbroken, in his case." Gabby nodded. "That's terrible!"

"I know! No matter how hard I tried she won't listen to me! The only reason I'm telling you this right now is because I realized that the Doctor is falling for her, and she for him. It's a guaranteed heartbreak and I don't want to see either of them get hurt, not when it can be avoided."

"We'll figure something out," Donna said determinedly. Like Gabby, she wanted both their alien friends to be happy and very much safe. She had come to learn how Renata operated and it was an annoying self-sacrifice theme that the Doctor often did. They truly were made for each other.

~0~

Renata had found a mirror hanging on the wall in the hallway. She stopped momentarily and faced her reflection. Part of her wanted to laugh at herself because she never pictured herself standing there, much less travelling with the Doctor and two humans.

"If they could see me now," she whispered. Her hand reached to touch the mirror but just as she did, a golden wasp of energy emanated from her hand. She drew her hand back with a gasp and quickly examined it. She looked up at her reflection again and found the same energy was rising from her head, forming what looked like...golden butterflies?

There was a queasiness in her stomach, growing more as the energy continued to drift from her body. What the hell is happening to me? she gulped.

"DOCTOR! RENATA!" Donna's shrill scream pulled Renata away from the mirror. At the same time, the golden energy disappeared but Renata didn't notice as she ran for the second floor.

She, naturally, arrived first at the scene and came to a skidded stop outside the bedroom door that had been previously locked. "What!? What is a? Who's hurt?"

"There is a giant…wasp!" Gabby cried.

Renata stopped and gave the two women a strange look. Behind her, the Doctor and Agatha had arrived.

"What do you mean there's a wasp? We have seen wasps before right?" Renata's expression was a bit condescending and totally not needed right now.

"We mean a wasp that's giant!" Donna tried to explain but it wasn't much better.

"It's only a silly little insect," Agatha remarked and Renata agreed with a nod.

Donna was the one to stop now. She glared at Agatha and Renata. "When I say "giant", I don't mean big, I mean flippin' enormous! Look at its sting!" She stepped to the side and pointed a finger at the huge stinger stuck through the door.

Renata gasped in horror, but the Doctor was eager to examine the thing. He flung the door open and rushed into the room. There was nothing except the open window. "It's gone! Buzzed off!"

"But that's fascinating," Agatha was more focused on the huge stinger left behind. She was about to touch it when Renata yanked her back. The poor author stumbled back from the force.

"Whoa there! I'm pretty sure touching an alien Stinger isn't the best idea."

"Alien?"

"You were bound to know anytime soon," Renata left her to go check on Gabby. "Are you alright?"

Gabby nodded but there was still a trace of fear left in her face. "It was...huge!"

"Giant wasp…" the Doctor had taken out another vial to collect a sample of the stinger. "Well, there are tons of amorphous insectivorous lifeforms but…none in this galactic vector."

"I think I understood some of those words. Enough to know that you're completely potty!" Agatha exclaimed.

"Lost its sting, though. That makes it defenseless," Donna to tried to be optimistic about their chances of capturing it.

The Doctor all but scoffed. "A creature this size? Gotta be able to grow a new one."

"Uh, can we return to sanity?" Agatha almost waved your hands to get the attention back. "There are no such things as giant wasps."

"Which begs the question of what is that?" Renata made a gesture at the stinger on the door.

"And what's it doing here?" added the Doctor.

Their moment of thought was cut short when they heard yet another shrill scream, this time belonging to the housekeeper. Miss Chandrakala was found just outside the house with a gargoyle over her chest.

"The poor, little...child…" the woman said her last words in a strain before dying.

"Who pushed that gargoyle off the roof!?" Gabby looked around until Donna shook her arm to get her attention.

"Th-that!"

The 'huge wasp' was back and buzzing threateningly at them.

"Let's go!" the Doctor led the chase back into the house in hopes of capturing the wasp.

"Well this is certainly new!" Donna exclaimed as they headed up the stairs. "There's a monster and we're chasing it!"

"Can't be a monster. It's a trick!" Agatha argued on their way up. "They do it with mirrors!"

"Do you see any mirrors around us!?" Renata stopped at the top of the staircase and gestured to the hallway where only portraits hung. Agatha didn't want to admit she was wrong but the fact there could be an alien wasp just...it had to be wrong.

"Oh, but you are wonderful!" the Doctor was gazing at the large wasp with a huge grin on his face.

"Doctor - it's a wasp!" Gabby reminded him and as if the wasp wanted to help prove her point, it raced towards them with its stinger first. They all ducked but the wasp swiftly turned around to do the same thing again.

"Oi! Flyboy!" Donna called to it and raised her magnifying glass up in the air. It didn't do anything and so the wasp flew away.

"Don't let it get away!" the Doctor was the first to run after it again. "Before it reverts to human form!"

They followed the wasp down the hallway and made a turn into a new one, only to find it had disappeared into one of the guests' bedrooms.

"Where are you!?" the Doctor demanded. "Show yourself!"

All the doors in the hallway opened up to reveal each of the guests looking mighty confused at the commotion.

"Well," Renata folded her arms. "That's just cheating. And unfair."

~ 0 ~

Lady Eddison wept for Miss Chandrakala in the sitting room. Everyone else was upset but no one more than her. "My faithful companion! This is terrible!"

"Excuse me, my lady," Davenport stopped behind her chair. "She was on her way to tell you something."

"She never found me. She had an appointment with death instead."

"You mean murder," whispered Renata. The gargoyle had been planted on the rooftop and it wouldn't have fallen if the wasp hadn't pushed it over. And the wasp had been exact in its calculations to push it just at the right time. It was a cold murderer indeed.

"She said, "the poor little child". Does that mean anything to anyone?" the Doctor studied the reactions of the guests to see if anyone led on about the phrase, but no one did anything suspicious.

"No children in this house for years," Hugh remarked then shaped his son a glance. "Highly unlikely there will be."

"Mrs Christie, you must have twigged something. You've written simply the best detective stories," Lady Eddison shifted in her chair to face Agatha, but the author seemed at a loss for words.

"Tell us…what would Poirot do?" asked the reverend.

"Heaven's sake! Cards on the table, woman!" Hugh unexpectedly slammed his fist against his armrest. "You should be helping us!"

"Well shouting at her won't make anything better," Renata rose from her seat. "And she's an author who writes about this stuff - it doesn't actually mean she's a detective." She then added in a much lower tone so that no one would hear her, "And neither are we."

"But surely she can crack it!" Robina made a gesture at the author who only kept shaking her head. "These events, they're exactly like one of your plots!"

"But what? I've no answers. None!" Agatha got up from her seat. "I'm sorry, all of you, I'm truly sorry, but I've failed. If anyone can help us, it's the Doctor, not me." She shook her head again and left in a hurry.

~ 0 ~

Renata sat by herself in the sitting room later while the Doctor returned to the TARDIS to examine the residue he'd found earlier. Donna had gone after Agatha in hopes of cheering the author up and Gabby…

Well, she didn't really know where Gabby was. Right now, Renata's attention was on her hands again. She couldn't get the image of the energy coming out of her hands...her head...her body.

"I don't understand," she whispered as she turned her palms over and over. Her skin was normal - she felt normal. Could it be what the Ood was talking about? Renata gulped. She hoped not. But, if it wasn't, then what was happening?

"Are you alright, Ren?" Gabby's voice - though soft - startled Renata. Her hands dropped to her lap when Gabby came into the room. "You're looking pale!" Gabby noticed and quickly rushed up to Renata. "Are you getting sick?"

"No, no, I...it's just been a long day," Renata's warm smile was not going to fool Gabby.

"No, this is what I was afraid of - it's what the Ood said back at Zhe's gallery. Renata, what if this is how it starts?"

"What starts?" Renata repeated in a low chuckle.

Gabby wasn't going to let her downplay the situation. "Renata, why don't we go talk with the Doctor?"

"What? Absolutely not-"

"-just - just listen to me!" Gabby practically begged. "I'm so tired of keeping this a secret! Something bad is going to happen and you--" she pointed at Renata with a desperate ferocity that froze Renata, "-are going to get hurt! Beyond that - you could die!"

"Enough!" Renata hissed. "Now you need to calm down before someone, especially the Doctor, hears you!"

"Renata, I'm scared," Gabby admitted softly. "I'm scared for you."

"But you shouldn't be," Renata put on her best happy smile for the girl. She put her hands on Gabby's shoulder and gently squeezed them. "I'm fine. Nothing has happened."

"You're really pale," Gabby repeated and touched Renata's hands on her shoulders. "And you're...actually really warm…" her face scrunched in confusion. "Like...burning hot."

Renata immediately pulled her hands away and balled them into fists. "Well, that means I'm fine."

"No, it really doesn't!"

"Look, Gabby-"

"I've got something!" the Doctor strode in looking happy as ever. "It's a Vespiform - what's happened?" he caught onto the vibe of the room and much more, like Gabby, he noticed Renata's new shade of skin color.

"I think Renata is getting sick," Gabby was hesitant to say in the beginning but if she didn't give at least a bit of a clue, then Renata could possibly be a goner. And it was worth all the death glares Renata had to give.

"What?" the Doctor frowned. He forgot about everything else for a second as he walked up to Renata. He touched her face - an action that made her feel even warmer - and realized what Gabby meant. "You're burning hot. Are you running a fever?"

"Don't be silly, I don't get fevers - we don't get fevers," Renata swatted his hand away from her. "Least the human kind."

"Still, that's an unusual amount of heat you're exhibiting." The Doctor gingerly sat her down in the nearest seat.

"You two are making a big deal out of nothing," Renata felt her stomach churn and it wasn't the heat she was feeling. She was overly nervous about being caught and that thought alone was scary.

"Gabby, make sure they bring us some drinks. Renata might benefit from one," the Doctor suggested. Gabby was all over it and ran out of the room.

"Honestly, Doctor," Renata swayed her head, trying to laugh things off.

"Don't belittle our concern, Renata. Now as soon as we're done here, I'm going to run new tests on you-"

"-but-"

"-there is no room for discussion about this!"

"Doctor, look what we found!" Donna came rushing into the room holding a small tool box in her hands.

Despite the current matter, the Doctor took the box from her to examine it. They found an array of tools inside. "Ooh…someone came tooled up…the sort of stuff a thief would use," he remarked.

"The Unicorn—he's here!" Agatha gasped.

"The Unicorn and the wasp," the Doctor said with a sigh. Of course.

"I've got the drinks," Gabby returned a short moment later with a tray in hand. "Davenport says any of them will definitely help Renata gain some color."

"What? What's wrong with, Ren?" Donna studied the Time Lady and realized she'd been unusually quiet.

"I don't need a drink," Renata muttered but the Doctor had already taken one glass off the tray and was holding it to her. "Doctor…"

"One glass will not harm you. Please take it."

"Please Renata?" Gabby whispered hopefully.

Renata sighed and took the glass from him. She took a sip and did admit to herself that it was rather tasty.

"So, um, did you figure out that science stuff?" Donna asked but she kept a lingering gaze on Renata.

"Hm, Vespiform sting. Vespiforms have got hives in the Silifax Galaxy," the Doctor answered but he kept a close eye on Renata as well.

"Again you talk like Edward Lear," Agatha said, sounding more resigned that she would never fully understand him.

"For some reason, this one's behaving like a character in one of your books," he said.

"Come on, Agatha," Donna sat beside the author. "What would Miss Marple do? She'd've overheard something vital by now because the murderer thinks she's just a harmless old lady."

"Clever idea," Agatha admitted. "Miss Marple—who writes those?"

Donna made a face and looked at the Doctor. "I've done it again, haven't I?" he silent nodded. "Well, copyright it: Donna Noble. Add it to the list."

"Renata…?" Gabby noticed that Renata had gone even paler and she thought it was impossible.

Renata opened her mouth but no words came out; all she managed were croaks. Something was closing her throat and it was burning.

"Doctor! Something's wrong!" Gabby turned to the man but he was already running up to them.

"Renée! Ren! What's-"

Renata started shaking her head and swatting his hands away. She made a flapping gesture to her drink she'd placed on the table next to her chair. "Poi….p...poison!"

"How could she be poisoned!?" Donna asked when the Doctor took Renata's glass and sniffed it. "Gabby got her the drink!"

Fearing for a second that she could be blamed, Gabby quickly exclaimed, "They served me the drinks!"

"This is cyanide!" the Doctor almost threw the glass at the wall out of anger. "How could this have happened!?"

"I-I don't know! I'm sorry!" Gabby was scared out of her mind, but the Doctor wasn't paying any attention to her.

"Kitchen - NOW!" he grabbed Renata's hand and yanked out of her chair and out of the room.

"What are you going to do!?" Donna ran after him with Gabby and Agatha in tow.

Renata breathed heavily - and strained - by the time they reached the kitchen. What's more was that she could feel that same warmth from before spreading over her body again. The Doctor leaned her against the isle and went around in search for something, she wasn't listening. Her hands were glowing again! She quickly hid them behind her back.

"Ginger beer! Where is it!?"

"I beg your pardon?" Davenport was nearly outraged that the Doctor was chucking things around the kitchen.

"I need ginger beer - where is it!?" the Doctor was going crazy in search of the damn ingredient. His entire body was on a new speed. He was going from one place to the other, dashing like a blur. His hearts were thumping against his chest, his mind screaming to get the detox fast. Renata was practically choking, he needed to do something!

"The gentleman's gone mad!" one of the waitresses exclaimed.

"Oh shut up and just help him!" Donna snapped.

Eventually, the Doctor had found the ginger beer and ran back to Renata. Gabby was helping the Time Lady stay on her feet but she could feel how badly Renata was shaking - how long could she last this way?

"Drink it now!" he practically ordered and despite it being weird, Renata took the drink and drowned it as fast as she could.

"I'm an expert in poisons, Doctor. It's fatal!" Agatha tried to stop him but he shoved her out of the way. Though she was completely stunned, for the man hadn't even noticed his rudeness, she still insisted on her perspective of reality. "There's no cure!"

"Over my dead body!" he snapped. "Renata, we can stimulate the inhibited enzymes into reversal. Protein! I need protein!"

Renata seemed out of it - as was understandable - but she checked her palms again and saw the glow was fading. Well, at least if she died, she wouldn't be caught with a strange gold glow...unless it was regeneration energy? Could that be it? What if the prediction was a silent killer one? She never considered that one.

"Walnuts!" Donna had found a bag of them and tossed it over to the Doctor.

"Renata, eat!" he then handed a good amount to Renata who very poorly stuffed them into her mouth. She chewed as fast as she could.

"Now I need something salty!"

"There's a bag of salt over there!" Gabby ran to the other counter where she'd seen the plastic bag.

"No, that's too salty!"

"But you said you needed salt!"

The Doctor groaned. "Not that salty!

"What about this?" Agatha tried her hand at helping and showed him a jar of anchovies. If he was going to prove this was actually curable then she wanted to see it firsthand.

"Yes, now you're getting it!" the Doctor took the jar and pulled the lid off.

"I don't like anchovies!" Renata managed to say with a more open throat.

"And I don't like you dying, so take it!"

Renata frowned like a child but she took a lot of anchovies and chewed them as fast as she could to get rid of the taste in her mouth.

"What else do we need now?" Gabby was fast to ask.

The Doctor had stopped all of a sudden. "...a shock."

"Well, what kind? Like...scary!?" Gabby wondered what the hell they could use from the kitchen to scare Renata. "Like Halloween scary!?"

"-mallowveen!?" Renata repeated as she forced down the terrible anchovies down her throat.

Gabby shrugged. It was all she had!

"Not that type of shock," the Doctor took in a deep breath as he hurried back to Renata. "Now I'm very sorry about this Renée but I'd do anything to keep you alive, so…"

Renata barely made a face when he grabbed both sides of her face and kissed her. Of course it would be a shock - perhaps the shock of her lifetime. The Doctor held her tightly, kissing her as if their lives depended on it. Hers did. And yet, despite the fierceness that drove him, the kiss felt very familiar. He wasn't sure if it was because of their time in 1913 with the Family, but then...why else could this be familiar?

Renata was the one to eventually break the kiss by pushing him away, but in doing so she felt an overwhelming power to gag (and it was not from the kiss). She threw her head back and exhaled a black smoke that left her stomach churning afterwards.

"Detox," the Doctor breathed in relief. He finally felt his hearts begin to lose the speed it gained in the last few minutes.

"Renata, thank God!" Gabby made a move towards her but Renata wagged a finger at her and then the others.

"Don't...I don't want anyone near me," she raised her hands, indicating her need to be entirely left alone. There was a foul taste in her mouth from everything the Doctor fed her and if she wasn't careful, she might just throw up on the spot.

The Doctor, however, took it the wrong way. "Renée, I didn't mean-" even the Doctor was included in her demand.

"Don't," she warned in a harder tone. His hearts stopped momentarily. She was mad at him. She shook her head and made her way out of the kitchen, albeit a bit wobbly.

The Doctor couldn't let himself be consumed by his concern for her reaction. He would much rather focus on where that poison came from. He turned to the staff, ignoring their stunned reactions, and glared at each and every one of them. "Who is responsible for this?" None of them had anything to say, which only infuriated the Doctor even more. "I said who did this!?" he stormed towards them and had a few of them, including Davenport, back away.

"We-we don't know! None of us did anything!" the younger waiter said.

"That poison came from somewhere!"

"She-" Davenport pointed a finger at Gabby, making the girl's eyes widen, "-brought the drinks! How do you know it wasn't her!?"

"Because it wasn't!" Gabby frowned. "Why would I poison my own friend!?"

"Doctor, calm down," Donna went up to the man and turned him away from the scared staff. "It was obviously the wasp alien."

"But why would it try to poison Renata?" Gabby asked. "It doesn't make sense."

"Because the glass wasn't meant for her," the Doctor realized very soon. "It was for me. There were three glasses on that tray...and I gave Renata the wrong one. It's my fault."

"No, Doctor, it's not," Donna said very slowly before he made other assumptions. "It's the wasp's fault. So we better catch him or her before it strikes again."

The Doctor nodded, but it didn't mean he was content. Renata would surely hate him now for real.

~ 0 ~

Renata had ample time to calm herself down before coming to dinner. She had not seen the golden energy again and she was taking that as a huge win - the last thing she needed was for any human to see her like that, much less the Doctor. And speaking of the Doctor...her face still warmed every time she thought about him.

That's what happens when you kiss him, she berated herself. It was still the same old story. One kiss from him and she melted. It took her forever to get over him on Gallifrey - and she honestly didn't do a very good job there - and then 1913 came around to knock her back down...and now this moment. She still loved him. A lot. And no matter what incarnation she was in, or he was in, each kiss still felt like the first one they shared when they were young.

When dinner time came around, Renata made the biggest effort to push all those feelings away. She came into the dining room and found mostly everyone was already there. As soon as he saw her, the Doctor got up from his seat and hurried around the table to meet her.

"Renée, I'm so sorry-" he began to apologize when Renata raised a hand to stop him.

"I'm not mad at you, silly," she smiled kindly at him and it was, admittedly, a relieving sight for him. "You saved me from a regeneration."

"You just looked upset…"

"Because I'd been poisoned. I'm not mad at you, Doctor. Thank you for saving me," she said honestly. "I do mean it."

The Doctor nodded, albeit nervously, but it was something to start with. He offered her his arm again and she gladly took it. They returned to the table and sat together. A short while later, dinner was served.

"A terrible day for all of us. The professor struck down, Miss Chandrakala cruelly taken from us, and yet, we still take dinner," the Doctor played with the soup in front of him.

"We are British, Doctor. What else must we do?" Lady Eddison inquired as if it was obvious this was what they had to do.

"Uh, maybe not act as if everything is alright?" Renata's heavy sourness was uncharacteristic but rightly appropriate. "Somebody here-" she picked up her knife and used it to point at each guest, "-decided to poison me. Although after great thought, I realize that I wasn't the intended victim. It was my friend, the Doctor, which makes me-" she suddenly stabbed her knife into the table, startling the others, "-madder."

"She's really good when she's scary mad," Gabby whispered to Donna on the side. The ginger silently agreed.

"Don't you worry, Renée," the Doctor gingerly uncurled her hand from the knife and set it down on the table. "I kind of got an idea from all this poison."

"And what would that be?" Golightly inquired.

"Well, poison," the Doctor smiled in an eerie manner. It made everyone stop eating. "Drink up. I've laced the soup with pepper."

"Ah, I thought it was jolly spicy," Hugh laughed and gladly ate from his soup, proving once again that he was the only real innocent one amongst the group.

"But the active ingredient of pepper is piperine. Traditionally used as an insecticide," the Doctor explained just before thunder cracked behind them.

"Fitting," Renata watched as each guest stared at their soups in horror. "Anybody want seconds?"

Thunder cracked again and cut the lights. One of the windows behind them flung open and brought in a gust of wind that took out the lingering candles.

"What the deuce is that!?" Hugh demanded as a noise from a distance crept up.

"It's a buzzing noise…" Gabby trailed off when they realized what it was.

"No…no, it can't be!" Lady Eddison suddenly cried, something that Renata took special note of.

"Show yourself, demon!" ordered Agatha who rose from her seat.

"Nobody move!" the Doctor warned as the others started to get up. "Stay where you are!"

The Vespiform - the wasp - finally revealed its form to the room.

"About that 'stay where you are' thing…" Donna began to backtrack with Gabby.

"Just run!" Renata shouted. She and the Doctor made a run in the opposite direction towards the doors, pulling Agatha with them.

They all met in the hallway but some of the guests were still inside.

"Well we know the butler didn't do it," Gabby thought to humor them since Greeves was with them, but it was a poor joke.

The Doctor grabbed a decorative sword on the wall and headed back for the dining room. But when he did, the lights were back on…

"My jewelry…the Firestone—it's gone!" Lady Eddison cried when she realized her prized jewel wasn't around her neck anymore. "Stolen!"

But the most horrific part came when they realized that Roger had been stabbed in the back.

~ 0 ~

"This is getting far too dangerous," Renata led the way back into the sitting room. Donna came in behind her and went for the nearest seat. "I think you, Donna, and Gabby, need to go back to the TARDIS."

"I think not!" Gabby immediately refused. "You're the one who was poisoned. If anything, you should go rest and let us figure this out."

"I don't think so," Renata shook her head.

Agatha let them figure that one out while she went to Donna's seat. "Did you inquire about the necklace?"

"Lady Eddison brought it back from India. It's worth thousands."

"Not much there, then," sighed Agatha. "Doctor?" she turned to the man by the fireplace. He'd been very pensive since they'd come in and hadn't said anything since then.

"This thing can sting, it can fly… It could wipe us all out in seconds—why is it playing this game?"

"Every murder is essentially the same—they are committed because somebody wants something."

"Well what would a Vespiform want from humans?" Renata made a gesture to the ones in the room.

"Oh please stop," Agatha told her. "The murderer is as human as you or I."

"UH Uh," Renata cocked her head to the side, about to retort when the Doctor gasped.

"You're right! I've been so caught up with giant wasps, I've forgotten!" he moved around fast until he stood in front of Agatha. "You're the expert."

Agatha thought otherwise. "Look, I told you. I'm just a…purveyor of nonsense."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, 'cause plenty of people write detective stories, but yours are the best. And why?" the Doctor checked around for anyone with an answer.

"Because she understands," Renata was the one to answer. "I mean...it's why I loved your books," she admitted with a small smile. "You are the only author that I can identify with. You've lived…you've fought…you've had your heart broken. I've had that too. And you know about people—their passions, their hope and despair and anger, all of those. You are the best. If anyone can solve this, it's you."

Agatha was touched but there were still many things to think about. Maybe it's what she needed though: to really think. Up until now, she didn't want to think that aliens were real and that could be what was hindering her from seeing the truth.

~ 0 ~

An hour later, all the guests were brought into the sitting room. Agatha hadn't said anything but there was a new determination in her face that no one was going to question.

"I've called you here on this endless night because we have a murderer in our midst," the Doctor stood at the fireplace, at the head of the group, "And when it comes to detection, there's none finer… Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Agatha Christie." He moved to take a seat next to Renata. He hadn't meant to but his hand brushed her arm and he felt the same burning heat again. He looked at her but she was none the wiser as she considered taking Donna up on her offer of a grape from her bowl.

Something was wrong there.

"This is a crooked house…a house of secrets," Agatha took the Doctor's place at the fireplace. "To understand the solution, we must examine them all. Starting with you…Miss Redmond."

Robina straightened in her seat, momentarily appearing nervous but she pushed away by putting on a flashy smile. "But I'm innocent, surely."

Agatha saw right through her. "You've never met these people and these people never met you. I think the real Robina Redmond never left London. You're impersonating her!"

Robina chuckled but her nervousness was back. "How silly." Her smile turned tight and as she spoke again, she did it through gritted teeth. "What proof do you have?"

"You said you'd been to the toilet…"

"Oh, I know this—if she was really posh, she'd say 'loo'!" Donna said in-between munches of grapes. Gabby laughed but she quickly covered her mouth.

"Earlier today, Miss Noble and I found this on the lawn right beneath your bathroom window." Agatha grabbed the tool box and walked up to Robina to hand it back to her. "You must have heard Miss Noble and Miss Gonzalez were searching the bedrooms and you panicked. You ran upstairs and disposed of the evidence.

"I've never seen that thing before in my life!"

"What's inside of that?" Lady Eddison inquired. Robina was refusing to take the box off Agatha's hand.

So, Agatha beat her to it. She opened the box for Robina. "The tools of your trade, Miss Redmond, or should I say…the Unicorn. You came to this house with one sole intention—to steal the Firestone!"

Robina cocked her head and stared at Agatha for a long minute until deciding to give it up. "Oh al right then. Ot's a fair cop!" she spoke in a Cockney accent. "Yes, I'm the bleedin' Unicorn!" she rose from her seat and sent each guest a sour smile. "Ever so nice to meet you, I don't think. I took my chance in the dark and nabbed it." She reached under her dress' strap and took out the Firestone. She chucked it towards the Doctor and rolled her eyes. "Go on then, ya nobs, arrest me. Sling me in jail."

"So...is she the murderer?" Gabby leaned closer to Donna's side as if that would do it for protection.

"Don't be so thick little girl," Robina snapped, completely ignoring Gabby's scowl. "I might be a thief but I ain't no killer."

"Quite," agreed Agatha who dropped the tool box into Robina's seat. "There are darker motives at work, and, in examining this household…we come to you…Colonel."

Hugh groaned. "Damn it, woman! You with your perspicacity! You've rumbled me!" He rose from his chair, stunning the others.

"You—you can walk? But why?" Lady Eddison rose as well and faced her husband.

"My darling, how else could I be certain of keeping you by my side?"

"I don't understand."

"You're still a beautiful woman, Clemency. Sooner or later, some chap will turn your head. I couldn't bear that. Staying in the chair was the only way I could be certain of keeping you."

"That's overly disgusting," Renata didn't hold back her thoughts. "And not to mention manipulative."

Hugh chose to ignore her comments and focused his anger on Agatha. "Confound it, Mrs Christie! How did you discover the truth?"

Agatha blinked away her shock to respond, "Um, actually, I had no idea. I was just going to say you were completely innocent."

Gabby laughed again, but this time Donna laughed with her.

"Not the time," the Doctor whisper-hissed at them but Renata decided it was very much the time.

"Serves him right," she said.

Agatha moved onto Lady Eddison and what she had to say was not good news for the woman. "You brought the Firestone back from India, did you not? Before you met the Colonel. You came home with malaria and confined yourself to this house for six months, in a room that has been locked ever since, which I rather think means—"

Lady Eddison frowned. "Stop, please!"

"I'm so sorry. But you had fallen pregnant in India…unmarried and ashamed, you hurried back to England with your confidante, a young maid, later to become housekeeper, Miss Chandrakala."

"Clemency! Is this true?" Hugh looked at his wife in shock.

Lady Eddison wouldn't look at anyone but she wouldn't deny it. "My poor baby. I had to give him away. Oh, the shame of it."

"You gave your own child away because you were ashamed?" Renata felt a new wave of disgust for the guests. "You're perfectly made for each other," she said to the pair.

"I had no choice. Imagine the scandal, the family name. I'm British—I carry on!"

"Oh my God…" Renata glanced at the Doctor, "We need to get the hell out of here."

The Doctor patted her hand - once again feeling the insane warmth of her skin - and promised her they would leave very soon. They just needed to finish up here. "The pregnancy was not an ordinary one, was it?"

Lady Eddison only spared him a look because she was shocked that he'd figured it out. "How can you know that?"

"Excuse me, Agatha, this is my territory," he got up from his seat to take place at the fireplace again. "But when you heard that buzzing sound in the dining room, you said, "It can't be". Why did you say that?"

"You'd never believe it…"

"Try me."

"It was forty years ago. In the heat of Delhi one night. I was alone and that's when I saw it—a dazzling light in the sky. The next day, he came to the house—Christopher, the most handsome man I'd ever seen. Our love blazed like a wildfire and I held nothing back. And in return, he showed me the incredible truth about himself. He made himself human to learn about us. This was his true shape. I loved him so much it didn't matter. But he was stolen from me. 1885, the year of the Great Monsoon. The River Jumna rose up and broke its banks. He was taken at the flood. But Christopher left me a parting gift—a jewel like no other. I wore it always. Part of me never forgot. I keep it close. Always."

"Just like a man—flashes his family jewels and you end up with a bun in the oven," Robina carelessly remarked and didn't even notice the glare Lady Eddison sent her way.

"A "poor little child". Forty years ago, Miss Chandrakala took that newborn babe to an orphanage. But Prof Peach worked it out," Agatha said. "He found the birth certificate."

"Oh, that's "maiden"—maiden name!" Donna realized. "So she killed him."

"I did not!" Lady Eddison angrily said.

"Miss Chandrakala feared that the professor had unearthed your secret. She was coming to warn you," Agatha told the woman, but Donna had something else to say.

"So she killed her!"

"I said no!"

"Lady Eddison is innocent. Because at this point… Doctor?"

"Thank you," the Doctor nodded. "Because at this point when we consider the lies and secrets and the key to these events, then we have to consider…it was you, Donna Noble…"

"What?" Donna blinked and nearly dropped her bowl of grapes if Gabby hadn't dove to catch it. "Who did I kill?"

"Nobody, he's just being dramatic," Renata assured the woman.

"No, but you said it all along, the vital clue—that this whole thing is being acted out like a murder mystery. Which means…it was you, Agatha Christie!"

Agatha blinked when the finger was pointed her way. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"So she killed them?"

"Donna, it might be better if you just wait," Renata suggested.

"Agatha, you wrote those brilliant, clever books," the Doctor went on. "And who's her greatest admirer? The moving finger points…at you, Lady Eddison."

"Leave me alone!" cried the woman.

"Oh my goodness," Renata sighed. "Doctor, get on with it!"

"Last Thursday night, what were you doing?"

Lady Eddison still glared at the Doctor for his constant push but she did answer a few minutes later. "I...was in the library. I was reading my favorite Agatha Christie thinking about her plots, and how clever she must be. But how is that relevant?"

The Doctor bobbed his head to the side. "Just think—what happened Thursday night?" he set his eyes on Golightly and the man had the audacity to be surprised.

"I'm sorry?"

"You should be," the Doctor frowned. "You said on the lawn this afternoon, last Thursday, those boys broke into your church."

"That's correct…they did. I discovered the two of them—thieves in the night. I was most perturbed. But I apprehended them."

"Really? A man of God against two strong lads? A man in his forties? Or, should I say, forty years old…exactly."

Lady Eddison was shocked all over again. "Oh my God!"

"Lady Eddison, your child—how old would he be now?"

"Forty. He's…forty."

"Your child has come home."

Golightly laughed at them all. "Ha! This is poppycock!"

"Oh? You said you were taught by the Christian fathers, meaning, raised in an orphanage," the Doctor reminded him. "You found those thieves, Reverend, and you got angry. A proper, deep anger for the first time in your life and it broke the genetic code. You changed. You realized your inheritance. After all these years…you knew who you were. Oh, then it all kicks off 'cause this…" he took the Firestone from Lady Eddison and held it in the air, "-isn't just a jewel—it's a Vespiform telepathic recorder. It's part of you—your brain, your very essence. And when you activated, so did the Firestone. It beamed your full identity directly into your mind. And, at the same time,

it absorbed the works of Agatha Christie directly from Lady Eddison. It all became part of you. The mechanics of those novels formed a template in your brain. You killed in this pattern because that's what you think the world is. Turns out we are in the middle of a murder mystery. One of yours, Dame Agatha."

"Huh, what do you know, it really was one of her stories," Renata nodded in her realization.

"Dame?" Agatha repeated in confusion.

"Oh sorry, not yet," the Doctor shared an amused smirk with Donna. It was harder than he thought.

"So...it was the Reverend, then?" asked Gabby. "He killed them?"

"Yes."

Golightly stood up from his seat and shook his head. "Well, this has certainly been a most entertaining evening. Really, you can't believe any of this, surely, Lady Eddizzz—"

"Lady who, now?" called Renata. There was a smirk trying to start at the corner of her lips.

"Lady Eddizzzon…"

"Little bit of buzzing there, Vicar?" Renata leaned forwards, now letting her smirk fully show.

"Don't make me angry!"

"Don't make you angry!?" Renata practically jumped out of her seat. "You murdered people and you poisoned me!"

"Damn it! You humanzzz!" Golightly practically stomped his foot. "Worshipping your tribal sky godzzz! I am so much more! That night, the universe exploded in my mind! I wanted to take what wazz mine. And you, Agatha Christie, with your railway station bookstall romancezzz… What'zzz to stop me killing you? What'zzz to stop me killing you all?" He started shaking violently until the Doctor figured out he was going to transform back into his true form.

"No more murder! If my imagination made you kill, then my imagination will find a way to stop you, foul creature!" Agatha had taken the Firestone and ran out of the room.

"Agatha, don't do that!" Renata sighed and rushed after her, prompting the others to do the same.

They came out of the house but lost Agatha for a few minutes. She showed up in her car, honking the horn to get the Wasp's attention. And it was just in time because the it burst through the front door.

"Agatha, come back!" Renata called but Agatha drove into the darkness.

"C'mon!" the Doctor led them towards another car for them to follow.

"What is she doing?" Gabby asked as they stopped by an empty car.

"She realized she can control it," Renata said, ushering her into the car. "She's going to try and stop him on her own. Humans!"

"Hey!" went Donna and Gabby.

The Doctor took the well and went after Agatha and the Vespiform as fast as he could.

"Now wait a minute, this is the night Agatha Christie loses her memory!" Donna remembered.

"Time is in flux, Donna! For all we know, this is the night Agatha Christie loses her life and history gets changed!" the Doctor said.

"Over my dead body!" Renata huffed.

They followed Agatha up to the lakeside where she was forced to stop. She'd gotten out of her car and held the Firestone in her hand.

"Here I am! The honey in the trap. Come to me, Vespiform!"

"She truly is controlling it," Gabby said once they stopped their own car and were able to get out.

"It's mind is based on her thought processes. They're linked," the Doctor explained.

"Quite so, Doctor. If I die, then this creature might die with me," Agatha held the Firestone high in the air.

"Don't hurt her! You're not meant to be like this. You've got the wrong template in your mind!" the Doctor called but the Vespiform was still coming towards them.

"It's not listening," Renata said in frustration.

Donna took a decision and ran up to Agatha, snatching the Firestone from her hand and throwing it into the lake. The Vespiform dove into the water to retrieve it but ended up drowning instead. "How do you kill a wasp? Drown it," Donna sighed. "Just like its father."

"Donna, that thing couldn't help itself," the Doctor shot the woman a look.

"Neither could I," Donna said quickly. She wasn't going to let it kill anyone else.

"Death comes as the end. And justice is served," Agatha said but she didn't really feel like they'd done much of the justice part. "Just one mystery left, Doctor. Who exactly are you?"

"I don't think you have the time to listen to that bit, Agatha," Renata cleared her throat and looked away before the Doctor could see her smile.

But suddenly, Agatha doubled over in pain. She groaned and nearly fell to the ground if the Doctor hadn't caught her. "Oh! It's the Firestone! It's part of the Vespiform's mind! It's dying and it's connected to Agatha!"

It was true. Agatha's body was glowing purple just like the Vespiform was in the lake. But just as it started, it stopped and Agatha fell unconscious.

"What just happened?" Gabby looked out into the lake and saw that the purple glow had also disappeared from the water.

"It let her go. Right at the end, the Vespiform chose to safe someone's life," the Doctor realized.

"Is she alright, though?" Donna neared closer to them, seeing Agatha wasn't even moving.

"Oh, the amnesia," Renata had gasped when she made her own realization. "This is how she loses her memories. The Vespiform...it wiped her mind of everything that happened. The wasp, the murders…"

"And us," Donna looked up from Agatha. "She'll forget about us."

Renata smiled sadly. "The only human author I liked...and she won't ever remember me. Of course."

~ 0 ~

"So what's going to happen to the others?" Gabby asked once the group was back in the TARDIS. "Lady Eddison, the colonel, and all the staff—what about them?"

"A shameful story. They'd never talk of it—too British," the Doctor said and watched how Renata practically fumed at the excuse. "While the Unicorn does a bunk back to London Town, she can never say she was there."

"But what happens to Agatha? Will she be okay?" asked Donna.

"Oh, great life! Met another man, married again. Saw the world. Wrote and wrote and wrote!"

"She never thought her books were any good, though. And she must have spent all those years wondering."

"Yeah but, I don't think she ever quite forgot." There was a knowing smile on the Doctor's face as he went around the console till he pulled a part of the floor like a lid. "Great mind like that, some of the details kept bleeding through. All the stuff her imagination could use. Like Miss Marple!"

"I should have made her sign a contract," sighed Donna.

"What's all that stuff in there?" Gabby peered over the Doctor's shoulder as he dug through dozens of objects under the floor.

"Souvenirs," Renata answered from the console, eyeing the open part of the floor with distaste. "Some of them - if not most of them - being completely dangerous."

The Doctor kept digging through the objects until he found what he was looking for: a copy of one of Agatha's books, Death in the Clouds. He showed it to Donna who quickly recognized the large wasp on the front cover.

"She did remember!"

"Bet that was a scare for the people who were at the party," Gabby chuckled as she took the book into her hands.

"Somewhere at the back of her mind, it all lingered," the Doctor said. "And that's not all. Look at the copyright page."

Gabby turned to the page and checked the publication. "Facsimile edition published in the year…5 billion!?" She and Donna shared the exact gaping mouths.

"People never stop reading them. She is he best-selling novelist of all time."

"Well earned," Renata said from her spot by the console.

"But she never knew," Donna sadly said.

"Well, no one knows how they're gonna be remembered. We can only hope for the best," the Doctor said, giving her a cheery smile. "Maybe that's what kept her writing. The same thing that keeps me travelling. Onwards?"

Donna playfully rolled her eyes. "Onwards."

~ 0 ~

Renata had been so close, so close to escaping the Doctor's clutches...but he was too smart for her...and fast. He was really fast.

Keeping true to his word, he'd brought her right into the medbay to run those tests he'd mentioned earlier. Renata was scared out of her mind thinking what the results would say, and much more what the Doctor would do. What if she truly was dying already? Or worse, what if she wasn't dying but there was something freaky going on with her insides?

"This is really strange," the Doctor murmured as he read through the results on the computer screen. Renata looked up from her palms to see him thoroughly focused on whatever was on the screen. "The energy we talked about, the Bloxk Transfer Matrix from the Zhe's gallery is still there and so is the Osiran energy."

"Well...what's it doing exactly?" she curiously asked.

"Getting stronger by the looks of it," the Doctor glanced at her, his eyes scrutinizing her for any obvious sign of the merge he spoke about. "You're not expelling it.

Renata wondered if her body was struggling to expel the energy and that's why she was suddenly glowing golden. The Doctor tore his gaze away from the screen to see Renata's reaction. She was mighty good at keeping her expressions neutral. All she did was stare at the screen.

"I'm afraid it's going to get stronger and stronger until it starts...hurting you," the Doctor swallowed hard and turned the computer off. "This is energy that no one - not even us - should have. It's...it's…"

"Contamination," Renata said shakily. "I'm...toxic," she bit her lip as a sour chuckle slipped through. "Not surprising there."

"No, you're not. I'm going to find a way to get that energy out of you, I swear," the Doctor told her.

"Oh, I know you would," sighed Renata. She didn't want him overworking himself just for her. She didn't deserve that. "But listen, I'm okay right now. I'm good."

The Doctor knew by now that Renata wasn't the most open woman - she was used to hiding and that included her personality and feelings. He hadn't yet figured out how to get her to open up entirely, but he wouldn't give up.

"I'm tired, Doctor. I'd really like to go to bed now," Renata said after a moment of silence. She made to leave when he gently grabbed her arm.

"Can I take you somewhere first?" he asked. Renata raised an eyebrow at him, obviously confused with his question. "I, uh, I wanted to give you something. It'll be fast, I promise."

Renata couldn't see why not so she nodded and allowed him to lead her out of the room. He brought them back to the console room and landed them somewhere new, apparently.

When Renata poked her head out she saw it was still night time but they were somewhere in a garden, a beautiful large garden. She felt the light breeze with her flapper dress, but she didn't mind. After feeling like she was on fire, she could use a breeze. "Where are we?" she chuckled as she came out.

"Well, you did say you'd like to take a walk in a garden," the Doctor came out behind her.

"Right, well, I meant in the daytime," Renata took a few steps away from the TARDIS and looked around the place. It was so green and bright despite it being night time. "And, you know, with the others."

"I don't think we should bother Donna and Gabby right now," the Doctor said. "C'mon." He took her by the hand and led her down the cobblestone path.

"You haven't told me where we are, though" asked Renata. She spotted a bright red rose bush coming up and she couldn't help wonder who was in charge of the place - it was simply beautiful!

"It's part of a mediation facility. Welcomes all types of aliens who just want to...relax."

"Well I'd love this place!"

"I thought you would. After a day like the one we've had…"

Renata slowly came to a stop and turned to face him. "You're not still thinking that I'm upset with you over what happened, right? I get what you were doing."

"I just...I don't like putting you in danger, Renée. I know you can take care of yourself but...if I can prevent it then I will."

Renata softly smiled at him. "Oh my Doctor, you are far too kind for a woman like me."

"You're too kind for a man like me." The Doctor sighed, making her smile fade.

"No," she said automatically. "And I will not discuss this any further. I don't want you to stop smiling because of me. It was an overall okay day," she said and because the Doctor knew she was just trying to cheer him up, he smiled at her again. "Got to visit the 20s again. Always a nice time period, if you know where to go."

"Hm, and just where was the past Renata during this time?" he curiously asked. "Speakeasies?"

Renata flushed with embarrassment. "Only a few-"

"Oh!" the Doctor's eyes widened with even more curiosity.

"Don't give me that look!" Renata laughed and let go of his hand to walk a bit ahead.

"Give me a break! It's hard picturing you of all people dancing in a speakeasy!"

Renata refused to look at him while he tried to picture those images. It was embarrassing enough but at least they were doing well again. "Oh, stop it! It wasn't all about the speakeasies. I personally loved the authors and cultural shifts the period had."

The Doctor playfully rolled her eyes. Of course she would prefer to focus on the more classical features of the 20s. "Like what?"

"Well, like...oh, I personally liked F. Scott Fitzgerald's work that started coming out," Renata smiled. "All the quotes that came out of his work were amazing. He was a trouble author, as was his wife, but his quotes always had this clear truth in them."

"Like what?" the Doctor walked alongside her now that she'd slowed her pace down.

Renata hummed and crossed her arms, thinking of the many quotes that she was fond of. After a few seconds, she decided on one even if it was truthfully bittersweet. "I love her and that's the beginning and end of everything..." She came to a slow stop and sighed lightly. "It's a sad line, you know? Love is beautiful but at the same time it can hurt you. And it has, on many occasions."

The Doctor could only silently agree. He'd been there himself of course. "And that's the line that spoke to you? Out of everything he ever wrote?"

Renata nodded. "Unfortunately."

It resonated with her because it was basically her story with the Doctor. The day she met him was the day everything began. She began to smile more, laugh more, be more spontaneous...she learned how to be a better version of herself who could have fun. It was the beginning of a wonderful, albeit rocky, story. He was such an impossible man even back then, making her 'think outside the box' and do the craziest of things. It was the beginning of her first and true love for someone. But at the same time, it was also the end of things, of several things. It was the end of her sanity - he drove her crazy almost every day with his shenanigans - and the end of any possibility of her ever being to love someone else with the same intensity she loved the Doctor with.

The Doctor stared at her while she got lost in thoughts. He was sure that something terrible once happened to Renata that made her like this. He had zero idea what it could've been but he wished it hadn't happened because Renata deserved to be happy. She shouldn't feel like she needed to hide things from her friends. He would never judge her, he just wished he could show her that, make her understand that he was right there.

Start with what you have, the little voice in his head scolded him. That's when he remembered the point of bringing Renata out in the first place. "Renée," he gently called to her so as to not scare her. She blinked out of her thoughts and listened to him. "I've, uh...I've been sort of working on something. Gabby helped with a few things, actually. I...I thought you might...you know..."

Renata followed and nodded at his hand gestures but he wasn't making much sense. "What is it?"

"Well, uh...it's..." the Doctor had to stop and exhale because otherwise he wouldn't be able to keep talking. He was super nervous all of a sudden and he had no reason to be. You decided to make it, now give it to her! The voice was right. "I've made something for you."

"Oh," Renata blinked with genuine surprise and perhaps a bit of curiosity. What could he have made for her?

"Yeah, um...hold on," the Doctor reached for one of his coat's inside pockets and pulled out a small rectangular box. "I-I thought - well, after the whole Monaxi thing, I thought you might benefit from one."

"Benefit from what?" Renata gingerly took the box from him.

"Open it." The Doctor intently watched her pull the lid off the box, his hearts possibly beating quicker when she gasped.

Renata's eyes had widened the moment she saw a golden white sonic screwdriver tucked inside the box. She looked up at the Doctor with the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile. "Is it...is it actually a...a sonic?" She looked like she wanted to laugh so the Doctor presumed she was liking the gift. "It's a sonic screwdriver!?"

"Yeah, um, I figured you might like one so that you can...you know, not have to use your balled fists?" the Doctor raised his own fists for show, making Renata laugh when she remembered how she wanted to take on the Monaxi even without a sonic and just her hands.

"Right," she brought her hand to her stomach while she laughed. "Oh my goodness, I can't believe you would do this for me!"

The Doctor loved seeing her face so bright with delight. She very rarely had these moments and he proud that he was responsible for her happiness right now.

"My own sonic screwdriver, ha!" Renata picked up the sonic from its box and studied it. It was similar to the Doctor's sonic only hers seemed to have a bit more width to it, and it had a clear tip that, once she flicked it on, shined a light golden unlike the Doctor's that shined blue. She laughed at the golden light. "My favorite colors!"

"Gabby's idea. She helped design the thing - loves to draw - and I worked on the, uh, well, the features." the Doctor said, smiling as she went through some of its basic features. "It's identical to mine in its working methods, just...with a few touches for you."

Renata's eyes twinkled with happy tears. I never deserved someone like you. She hurried over to hug him tightly. "Thank you so much! I love it!"

A total wave of relief washed over the Doctor when she said that. He hugged her tighter, letting himself breathe in her sweet perfume and natural scent. "I'm glad you like it."

"How could I not? It's wonderful and so are you!" Renata wrapped her arms around his neck and really took the moment to relish in it. Of course she then noticed the light gold glow on her right hand, reminding her that not all was well.

#doctor who #10th doctor #ocappreciation #ocapp #10th doctor fics #dw imagine #dw imagines #10th doctor imagines #doctor who imagines #doctor who fics #donna noble #gabby gonzalez #oc: Renata Cartwright #fic: the beginning of everything

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anciientboosh · 4 years ago

Note

24, 34, and 46 for the writing asks please!

Hi Bucky! Thank you so much for the ask my friend <3

(I apologise in advance for my rambling, but you know what you get when you ask me things)

24. Which of your characters has the most in common with you?

Ooh this was super interesting to think about, and definitely why I took some time to answer this.

I think, in terms of my fanfic writing, I’d want to say I’m a Vince (I’m cheery and I like to create I’ve got zero common sense) but I’m almost definitely a Howard. Without a doubt. 100%.

I’m quite awkward and nerdy, I know a lot of pretty pointless information that will never come in handy except for me to just blurt facts at people and in the end sound a bit dull (Honestly I swear I only have either of my degrees so I can hop in conversation with an animal fact or a literature reference and sound smart). I love stationery, a go to gift for me is a new set of fountain pens or a notebook. I am definitely the kind of person that has two or three very specific passions and the second someone mentions them I’m all over it like Howard Moon over a rare jazz record.

I could probably get really existential about it too, I mean Howard’s constant need for validation, that’s a mood isn’t it? The terrible luck? Same, Howard. Same. But I’ll keep it light and fluffy!

34. What is the best advice you have for a beginning writer?

Firstly, I am so sorry to whoever is requesting advice from me, I may look like I know what I’m doing but I promise you I don’t.

That being said, the first time I went to university I studied a joint hons in creative writing and theatre and I remember there was a lot of conflicting advice coming from all our different tutors (all of whom were published authors, which was quite intimidating for baby me - let me tell you). One tutor would tell us that poetry was only true poetry if it was written in ten lines or less. And another hated us to rhyme. My screenplay tutor loved my descriptions but hated my dialogue and then my second year screenplay tutor was the exact opposite. I spent three years with multiple tutors for my short stories/novel classes telling me my writing was a bit ‘flowery’ and ‘eccentric’ because I liked the idea of these flowing paragraphs with descriptors and similes and you know... word decoration. Like the story was my cake and I wanted word icing. And I was outright told I’d never get published with writing like that. But other tutors loved that, they said it made me unique.

And in the end (and yes there is a point to my rambling, I mean it, flowery writer here) I had one mentor who ended up sticking by me for the full course of my education and even when he hated what I’d written he’d still always tell me I was doing fine because (and this won’t be a direct quote it was some time ago now, but the gist is there) he always said. “What you have to remember is writing is an art form like a painting or a song, some people are going to hate it, but there’s always going to be someone out there who will like what you write, and will only want to hear your voice tell that story.”

So moral of that very long winded story? Don’t be afraid to find your voice with how you write and stick to it. Change is fine if you feel happy with it, but don’t be messing around with your style just ‘cause one or two people don’t take to it. Your prose is your voice and you have the right to use it however you like.

46. What’s your favourite line of your current WIP

This is another one I took some time to answer because, I’ve been answering these from a fic writer perspective but I also write with the hope of publishing a novel one day, and I write poetry too, that sometimes on occasion has been published if I get very lucky - all of which are things I am working on at the minute so I thought maybe you guys would be interested to see that side of things? I don’t know, I could be reaching, but you’re getting it now anyway, whoops!

So a line from an upcoming Howince story (this one will only come once Keep Making Trouble is complete) called They Don’t See Us Bleed - The thing people forget about Vince is, he may look pretty on the outside, but behind his smile lay the sharpened teeth of a predator. (It’s not going to be as dark as it sounds guys, I promise, there will be comedy and sweetness galore)

A Line from my novel Supernova - He has a tongue of pure silver and he will lure you in with promises made of gold.

A section from the next poem I’m submitting for publishing called Love Like Him - Enveloped in his rib cage are the shattered pieces of a goddess; wrapped in forgotten promises.

#Hey I got an ask!#And I spent about an hour rambling into the post before answering it #Seriously #Gin rambles #Is a new tag I need to use #Feelin real cringe about my poetry now its out there I'm not going to lie lol #Oh well

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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

Text

Not Your (soul)Mate {8/15}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/N: This is in my top 3 favorite chapters for this story, so I’m more than excited to share it with you guys! I’m also sharing it a little (super) early for @thejollyroger-writer because she’s a sweetheart. And maybe because I think everyone deserves a little happiness, and I think this chapter will bring you guys some happiness❤️

And check out that new artwork from @captainsjedi! Isn’t it awesome? She’s also a sweetheart who deserves all of the love 💜

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Tag list: @initiala @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @galaxyzxstark@cssns

-/-

“Why are you sweating?”

“Because it’s hot.”

“Not that hot.”

“You’re pregnant, A. Your hormones are all messed up, so I don’t trust your temperature gauge.”

Ariel groans next to her and sinks down further on the swing they’re sitting on in Mary Margaret and David’s backyard. Their house is like some kind of weird farm paradise, and Emma loves being out here when she needs to relax. This fourth of July party has not turned out to be relaxing in the slightest.

That’s really not a shocker considering that crazy shit seems to happen on this day every year. Give people a few beers and the promise of lights exploding in the sky and all of the sudden they forget that today isn’t some bubble that doesn’t extend to tomorrow. There are always consequences to actions.

“Babe, doesn’t Emma look flushed to you?”

She hides her face behind her hands as Eric looks at her, seemingly peering into her soul while he tries to see if her face looks flushed. It does. It’s kind of hot and humid outside, and she’s honestly still a little hot and bothered by Killian from earlier. Damn him. Seriously damn him for purposefully riling her up in front of all of these people where she can’t sneak away and go hide in a corner somewhere while she calms herself down. One day the two of them are going to explode at each other, and she’s terrified to think about the consequences.

Because yet again, she seems to be the only one thinking about consequences.

It’s all fun and games until someone talks too much, and she fucks the absolute last person she wants to fuck.

No, wait, scratch that. Killian is not the last person. There are several people on that list way ahead of him, but for the emotional repercussions, she is not sleeping with him.

She is not sleeping with her soulmate.

(She is not sleeping with anyone.)

Even if she finds him funny and charming and very possibly nice. But that’s how every man is at the beginning, and she’s not falling for it again, predestined or not.

They can talk (kind of) and be in the same place, but she’s not dating him.

And she really needs him to stop messing with her, at least for today. It’s fine when they’re passing each other notes through food - even if his notes are obnoxious - or when they’re both riling each other up while they’re submerged in the water with a few people around, but when she’s got every single person she knows within a ten foot radius, Killian messing with her is not an ideal situation.

Two can play at the game and all that, but sometimes she’s simply not in the mood.

Today is one of those days.

“She does look a little red. You feeling okay?”

“Besides the fact that I’m on this swing with you guys while you treat me like I’m your child, I’m fine.”

“Fine is never fine.”

“You have got to stop saying that,” she sighs, leaning her head over on Ariel’s shoulder, fully embracing her role as their adult child, which kind of seems like it’s an oxymoron. It also kind of seems like it simply describes a hell of a lot of men she knows. “Sometimes fine is fine.”

“You sure? I know today isn’t a very fun day for you.”

Of course Ariel remembers. How could she not? She knows all even when Emma doesn’t tell her. Some kind of red-headed oracle.

“I’m just glad he’s not here. It would be a very Walsh move to show up at the Nolans’ party knowing that I’m here. He was such a dick.”

“The biggest dick.”

“Second biggest dick, but he definitely didn’t have the second biggest dick if you know what I mean.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t be here for this conversation,” Eric groans while she and Ariel laugh a bit. Maybe she is an adult child if she’s laughing at small dick jokes. Maybe some people deserve to have small dick jokes made about them.

“Don’t worry, hon,” Ariel placates, patting her husband’s thigh, “we won’t scar you by informing you that other men also have penises. I know that must be shocking for you.”

“I have got to stop spending time with the two of you together.”

“Please,” she scoffs, blindly reaching over Ariel’s shoulder until she finds Eric’s, “you married one of us and knocked her up, so I’d say that bodes pretty well for how much you love us.”

“Or how much I love my wife.”

“Well, we’re a packaged deal, Fisher. A two for one.”

“What about Belle?”

“Oh you’re right. We come in a pack of three.”

“That could be both terrifying and incredibly arousing.”

“Hey,” Ariel groans, sitting up so that Emma’s head falls a bit off of her shoulder and onto the wood of the swing.

“What? If you can point out that other men have dicks, I can point out that your friends are capable of sex. I’d punch Walsh if he showed up here, by the way,” he adds on, almost making her forget how much she never wants to think about Eric thinking about her having sex again. If she had a dad, that would almost be like her dad thinking about her having sex. Then again, Ariel has definitely shared her sex life with Emma, and this all gets more disturbing the longer she’s left alone with her thoughts. “He was an idiot to ever think he could do better than you.”

Technically he could with his soulmate, but she’s not going to think about that. It’s not like he cheated on her with his soulmate or anything, not that it would have made the situation any better. It’s kind of a shit move to date someone knowing that they’re not your soulmate and then cheating on them with your actual soulmate instead of simply telling your partner that you want to break up. It happens all the damn time, and it’s like people have forgotten basic decency.

Walsh definitely had. They’d been dating since last January, and on the fourth of July last year she’d found him sleeping with this red-headed woman in Mary Margaret’s guest bedroom in the middle of this party. Apparently, it had been going on for two or three months, which was nearly half of their relationship, and he had the gall to cheat on her at one of her best friend’s houses during a holiday party with everyone in town just a few feet away. She didn’t even want to come today, the memories of it leading her down a dark path that inevitably always leads to Neal, but Belle had dragged her out of her bedroom and told her that they were coming to this party no matter what.

And it’s been fine. No one has mentioned last year, not even Leroy. At least yet. His mouth tends to get a little looser when he’s had too much to drink, but she hopes that being at a party with every cop in town will keep him in line.

She’s just going to avoid the guest bedroom at all costs. She won’t even sleep in there when she stays over. She’ll sleep on the couch or the bottom bunk in Leo’s bedroom.

But anything to avoid the guest bedroom.

Even if she really needed to go release some tension earlier when Killian was messing with her. She’d nearly dropped the coleslaw her legs were so shaky when they were putting the side dishes out. She’s glad that Elsa came by with Luca trailing right behind her because if Luca, who is so obviously in awe of her uncle, hadn’t been there, she would have very gladly told him to fuck off.

On another day she’ll give him a snarky napkin note like they’ve been doing, but she doesn’t feel like it right now. She doesn’t have the sass or sarcasm in her.

“Thank you,” she finally tells Eric, not knowing what else to say. “Is the sun ever going to set or are we going to be out here in this hot misery forever?”

“I think we might be out here forever. I need to pee.”

Ariel gets up off of the swing and wipes her hands against her dress, the curve of her stomach more obvious today than it’s ever been, and excuses herself to head inside while Eric does the same, claiming that he needs another beer. She could go for some of the whiskey that David keeps in the kitchen on the top shelf that she can’t get to without using a chair to step up on. She knows it’s so their six-year-old doesn’t accidentally get into it, but a part of her thinks that it’s so that she doesn’t get into it either.

Jokes on him because she’s smart enough to be able to get to it all.

Not that she’s going to. Instead she gets up from the swing and follows Ariel and Eric to the main part of the backyard where everyone is milling around. She grabs another bottle of water from the cooler and makes her way around the yard, speaking to everyone she knows...which unfortunately is everyone. When she was a deputy, she spent nearly every day talking to the people in town, and even though she still does that, her promotion which is only really half of a promotion even with the title change and pay raise, it’s not as much as it used to be. There could be new people in their little circle of friends, and she could have no idea.

Or she could have an idea and simply not see the people.

Killian is a great example of that.

She hates that she’s so drawn to him. It’s like he’s a flame when it’s dark outside, and she’s a damn bug heading toward the brightness and warmth of the light. That’s the worst metaphor she’s ever made (even if her car is a bug), but there’s a reason she was never an English major and wouldn’t have been if she had gone to college. It’s not her thing. She’s drawn to him. She knows why. It’s pretty much inevitable that she would be, but she’s never been one for sure things.

The inevitable doesn’t always have to be that way. She’s never been a fan of following the rules even if her occupation says otherwise.

She glances up and sees Killian sitting with his feet in the pool, his legs hanging over the edge of the water, and tossing an inflated ball back and forth between Leo, Luis, and Luca.

(Ariel better name her kid with something with a name other than an “L” because that is far too much for her to have to keep up with.)

She can hear the murmurings of his voice over all of the people between them, but it’s muted, barely a whisper above the crowd. It’s not usually like that, and she wonders just how loud it is here for her to not be able to hear him clearly when they’re within twenty feet of each other. She’s never tested out the range, but she thinks that’s a pretty good estimate.

He seems relaxed, carefree, and she bets that no part of him cares that he’s getting water all over his button up as the kids splash him. How in the world did he even end up over there when there are so many better things to be doing? Then again, she’s the one sitting on top of a portable cooler staring at him and working on her second bottle of water this hour, so it’s not like she’s got a lot of room to say anything.

He looks really good in that light blue shirt, and his hair has gotten a little longer so that these few pieces more prominently hang over his forehead even though the sides are pretty tightly cut. She likes it more than she’s willing to admit, and she bets it’d be soft to run her hands through.

Not that she’ll ever know the answer to that query.

“Whatcha staring at, kid?”

“You’re five years older than me,” she sighs, scooting over so David can have some room on the cooler as well, the hair on his leg brushing up against her thigh.

“Ah,” David groans, reaching over and taking her water from her before he takes a sip, “but I feel a solid two decades older than you some days because you often act like Leo. I mean, you sure as hell eat like him.”

“You’re always complaining about my food, but you’re always eating it. I mean, you ate half of that bread basket before I took it home.”

“What can I say? Killian knows how to pick out some pastries.”

That saying about jaws dropping and hitting the floor feels pretty apt right now as her jaw opens a little, her lips parting, and she kind of feels like she’s just been hit in the face by the ball Killian and the kids are tossing around. How in the world would he know that? There was no name on the note, and she made a point not to tell him. There was a whole thing. She knows. She remembers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You may be able to tell when others are lying, but you are the worst liar.”

“I am not.”

“You’re as bad as Leo,” David chuckles, knocking his shoulder into hers at the same time that she watches Killian throw his head back, laughter shaking his shoulders and his stomach moving. She can hear it a little more loudly this time, but she imagines that it’s because she’s trying to focus on anything other than David right now. “And Mr. French told me who sent the basket when I complimented him on the blueberry muffins. He went on and on about how Killian Jones bought out the entire bakery for that basket and how he must really like you.”

She’d like to go back to the swing with Ariel and Eric right now and die from the heat. That would be preferable to this.

Hell, maybe she’ll strip out of her clothes and streak through the yard so someone will have to arrest her and put her in jail for the night. That, too, would be preferable to this.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she sighs, wishing that she hadn’t left her phone inside to charge so she’d have something to fiddle with.

“What? You and Killian aren’t in some kind of secret relationship where he woos you with bread?”

“No, though I think all people should be wooed with bread or food. Forget jewelry. Food is the new romantic gift.”

“So you were wooed by the pastries?”

“I was not wooed,” she huffs, hitting her knuckles against his knee while she watches Mary Margaret walk around and offer everyone dessert. The woman really never stops. It’s insane. They should probably get up and help. “I’d like to make that very clear. Killian Jones is not wooing me or flirting with me or courting me. Killian Jones is doing nothing to me.”

Though she has dreamed otherwise.

Dammit.

“He’s staring at you right now.”

Her eyes find Killian’s across the yard. He could have stared at her this entire time, and she wouldn’t have cared as long as he wasn’t staring at her while David was paying attention. Their timing is just fantastic.

“I - I don’t…” she stutters, the heat on her cheeks rising again as her tongue seems to twist itself inside of her mouth, keeping her from forming coherent words. That probably stems from the fact that she can’t seem to form coherent thoughts, so maybe her brain is all twisted up too. That doesn’t seem quite right, but what does she know? “He’s like a friend.”

“So a friend?”

“No, like a friend. It’s different.”

“How the hell does that make any sense?”

“It’s,” she starts again, waving her hands around. “We are friendly to each other, but we are not actively friends. Like, we poke fun and tease at each other, but there are some mitigating issues that keep us from actually being friends.”

“Like the fact that you very obviously have feelings for the man.”

“Feelings of annoyance? Yes.”

“Feelings of appreciation, maybe. You know, Emma, it’s not a bad thing to have feelings for someone.”

“It hasn’t seemed to work that way in the past. You remember last year.”

“I had to burn my sheets. Of course I remember.”

She laughs a little and adjusts herself on the cooler, tapping her fingers against her own knee and wondering if she can wear jeans for the next week so that she doesn’t have to shave. It’s probably too hot for that, but this is summer in Maine. Tomorrow she could walk out of her apartment having to wear her jacket.

“I don’t...when I say it’s complicated with him, I really do mean it. It’s not like how you and Mary Margaret are. You guys have got some genuine love, even if it does make me want to vomit sometimes, and I think I’m biologically programmed not to have that.”

David’s arm wraps around her shoulder, and he pulls her into her side so that his lips can brush against her temple. Such a dad. “You have genuine love in your life. There are a lot of people who love you, and you have to know that. And maybe if there is someone out there who makes you smile or makes you laugh, soulmate or not, that could be some genuine love too. Not all love burns up and dies.”

“Can we talk about something else?” she deflects, her eyes trained on a few blades of grass that are not quite as green as the rest of the yard. Her heart is practically in her stomach at this point, and she would do anything not to think about relationships or her past or the man that’s sitting with his legs dangling in the pool.

“Sure,” David agrees. “I have just been itching to have someone to talk to about the propane tanks on the grill.”

“Oh my gosh.”

David does talk about his propane tanks for a little while, boring her to death, but he eventually moves on to the Yankees game last night and to some big philosophy talk on why baseball and sport in general is so important to the general population. It’s not at all what she was expecting, but it kind of cracks her up as David rambles on. He’s obviously had a few beers today, which is only a little worrisome since he’s in charge of lighting the fireworks tonight. Working with explosives seems like something only sober people should do.

It very rarely is.

As the sun starts to fully set, darkness finally beginning to cover the sky, she excuses herself from the party, grabbing a bottle of beer and climbing up the ladder to Leo’s treehouse. This has to be the best place to view the fireworks from, and she’s surprised that no one else ever comes up here to watch. It’s a bit of a loner habit of hers, not that she’s lacking in those, and as she stands against the open window with her elbows propped on the wood, she watches all of her friends move around the backyard, everyone that was inside relishing in the air conditioning coming outside, Wilby nipping at the heels probably looking for scraps.

Ariel and Eric have found their way back to the swing, the two of them chatting with each other, and she sees Belle and Will sitting at a table with Robin and Regina. Roland must have been with his mom for the first half of the party because he’s now here and running around with the rest of the kids, all of them still in their swimsuits. If only she could have that much energy. That would be worth piles of gold. Ruby is being predictably Ruby, standing at the center of a crowd making everyone laugh. She can practically see Elsa’s blush from here, and when she sees Liam standing with his arm over his wife’s shoulder, she realizes that someone is missing from the crowd.

“See anything interesting?” Killian asks from behind her, her skin breaking out into bumps at the sound of his voice.

Of course he’s up here.

She doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t necessarily dislike it either, which pretty much sums up a lot of things about her life.

She simply grunts in response, not feeling like talking or causing the two of them any issues. No part of her will ever be over this part of her life, and she wonders if this will ever get better, if it’ll ever be possible to be in the same room as Killian without being driven crazy.

(Like, if this is what the universe wants for the two of them, does it expect for them to never have any kind of meaningful conversation? She still doesn’t understand that part.)

She wonders if she wants that.

Mostly she wonders why she wants that.

And when Killian comes to stand next to her, the scent of sweat and chlorine obvious on him, she laughs when he puts down a notepad between them, a pen resting on top of it. Twisting her head to side, she sees that his lips are curved into a smirk, the right side higher than the left, and the same goes for his eyebrows, one practically in his hairline. That’s definitely his signature move. He nods down at the notepad, and her gaze finds the words written there.

I’m sorry that I’m an asshole and was messing with you earlier.

She puts her beer down and picks up the pen, scribbling on the paper.

It’s okay.

You didn’t seem okay.

Bad day.

Want to talk about it?

Or, write about it.

Independence Day is also the day that my last boyfriend took independence from me and cheated on me. At this party.

She has no idea why she wrote that, and if she had an eraser, she’d get rid of the evidence. But she doesn’t.

I’m sorry. He sounds like a wanker.

He is. Your brother is a sloppy drinker.

She hears Killian’s chuckle, and twists her head to look up at him and his smile again.

A bloody lightweight. It’s fun to get him drunk. He talks out of his ass and is genuinely funny for once in his life.

Oh I don’t know. I think he’s the funniest Jones brother.

That’s because you haven’t really been truly humored by me yet.

Your face does make me laugh.

Because you can’t handle its beauty?

She should have known that joke was coming with him, and she should have the strength to resist laughing at it, but she can’t help herself. She snickers, the sound passing through her lips, and she realizes that she feels lighter than she has all day even with the air getting heavier around her, the humidity increasing as the night goes on with the threat of more thunderstorms the next day. The fact that today was sunny still surprises her.

Killian winks when he sees her smiling, and she leans back to put a little more space between them. That wink doesn’t make her stomach feel some type of way at all.

“What?” he speaks aloud as he leans back again, resting his shoulder against the treehouse wall.

“Nothing.”

“If you’re sure.”

She’s not sure. Really, no part of her is sure about anything. But she’s kind of feeling good right now, feeling like maybe today isn’t all bad despite all of those lingering feelings and everyone bringing up her relationship status today and making her think about her past. The first boy she ever kissed was named Blake, and he was about as average in his name as he was in kissing. She’s sure that he’s gotten better, that he’s improved since they were fourteen, but she’ll always have the memory of that sloppy mess.

The first boy she ever loved, though, was Neal Cassidy. She was seventeen, and he was a little older. Looking back she realizes that a twenty-three-year-old should not have been dating a seventeen-year-old, but for the first time in her life, she felt loved and secure and happy that someone wanted to be her. Who she was then is not who she is now, and whether she likes it or not, a lot of that is because of Neal. He was adventurous and charming, always talking her into doing just about anything, and they dated for a little under three years.

He was...she loved him, and he thought that she was perfect. That’s something that he was always calling her, and now, when she hears the word, it sends chills down her spine. He called her perfect and wonderful and he made her believe that she was this person who he treasured being with. And then she peed on a stick and the word “pregnant” popped up, and suddenly that one word made every other kind word that Neal called her be replaced with things like “irresponsible” and “loose” and a “slut.” He was the only person she’d ever slept with, and he was calling her a slut.

Not that sleeping around makes anyone a slut. She’d just...that’s how Neal made her feel.

She wasn’t pregnant, though.

That’s the real kicker of the whole thing. There she was almost twenty years old taking a pregnancy test and thinking she was going to have a baby with the guy she loved only for him to lose his mind and scare her to the point that she didn’t feel safe. That night he packed a bag and left, for Tallahassee where his father lived, he’d said. He was running away, he was leaving, and he was abandoning her.

She thought he was her family, that they were making a family together, and he abandoned her.

Just like everyone else.

She’d say that her baby abandoned her, but there was never any baby. It was a cheap test, a false positive, and to this day she still hates to admit that she’s upset that she wasn’t pregnant, that she didn’t get to have a family of her own for once in her life. She knows how naive she was about it all, especially because Neal convinced her that they were soulmates because they didn’t have obvious signs.

Especially since her probable, actual soulmate is currently standing in front of her with pretty blue eyes and a kind smile that seems to happen whenever he makes her laugh.

Even when he frustrates her, he makes her feel good in a way that she hasn’t felt in awhile, and maybe she deserves to do something reckless for once. It’s been a long time, since she lived in Boston and before the police academy really, and she wants to feel good.

“You know, Swan, most of the time when women look at me like you’re looking at me, I get to know if their undergarments match. But you did say that I’ll never know that about you, and I guess I’ll have to be okay with that. I do have a vivid imagination.”

Cheeky asshole.

Why in the world is she charmed by his flirting?

She hesitates, not entirely sure if she wants this, but he’s been driving her crazy since April and she wants to know. She wants to know just what it would be like to steal the words from Killian’s lips, to make him stop talking and actually act on his words, but mostly she wants to take advantage of the fact that she is so turned on right now that she can’t think of anything other than Killian’s lips on hers.

Stepping forward, the wood of Leo’s treehouse creaking underneath her footstep, she grabs onto the collar of his shirt and slams her lips into his. It takes a moment for him to kiss back, which makes sense for how out of nowhere this must seem, but before she can think about it too much, his right hand is threading into her hair, twisting her head so that his lips can wrap around her upper lip, and his left hand is falling down to rest at her waist, nearly palming her ass. He tugs her closer, their bodies completely pressed up against each other, and she groans at the same time Killian does, his hardening length pressing into her hip through his jeans. Everything about Killian’s kiss is desperate, hurried, and she can’t get enough. There’s never going to be enough of this, and even though his lips are only on hers, she wears she can feel them on every inch of her skin.

She swears that she is on fire right now, and she wouldn’t mind going down in the flames.

When Killian’s tongue teases at the seam of her lips, she doesn’t hesitate before opening her mouth to his, letting their tongues tangle together in a slick, wet slide that has tiny fireworks exploding over her flesh and making every thought except more escape from her mind. She wants more of the warmth of his body, more of the softness or his lips, and more of the rough scratch of his beard against her skin.

She wants more of him.

There is nothing else, no one else, and as Killian’s hand firmly becomes planted on her ass and her fingers wander to his hair, finally feeling just how soft the strands are, all she can feel is him.

And all she can see behind her closed eyes are bright blue lights exploding into the sky and bringing her out of the darkness.

But then there’s a boom, a rather large one in fact, and she startles back when she realizes that it’s not one of the metaphorical fireworks that she can still feel flickering across her skin, especially on her chin where Killian’s scruff is rubbing into her. It’s a very real, very bright firework that she watches explode in the air through the window of the treehouse all the while her forehead still rests against Killian’s, their breaths intermingling.

He tasted kind of like rum, and she wonders where he found that.

It’s like everything comes back to her as blue and green sparks explode against the inky midnight blue of the sky, and she knows the light warm air in the sky will evaporate the moment her body is no longer pressed up against Killian’s, the heavy humidity enveloping her. But she moves back anyway, their hips no longer pressed together even as their foreheads stay the same.

“That was - “

“A one time thing,” she gasps, letting her hands fall from his hair and her feet step away, nearly tripping in the dip in the wood. She shouldn’t have done that. They shouldn’t have done that. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. She’s not supposed to fall for him, and she tells herself that she’s not, that it’s simply because the universe is tricking them into it. She doesn’t care.

She’s emotional today and he was talking and he knows how to charm her. It’s...she doesn’t care, and all of her earlier thoughts about caring for him were lies.

(She can’t get hurt again.)

But that can’t explain why she can’t look Killian in the eye and why she has to look toward the ladder, her focus completely on getting away. “Stay up here for awhile,” she whispers, ignoring the swell of her lips as she moves toward the ladder. “I’m going inside. Don’t...don’t follow me.”

She doesn’t listen to see if he answers or replies, to see if he calls out to her, because she can’t hear a damn thing over the loud thumping of her heart as it pounds between her ears, decidedly not where it’s supposed to be. But as she’s climbing down the ladder, her legs nearly falling out beneath her for how unsteady they are, she hears another “as you wish” followed by the loud boom of a firework.

Only this time, there’s no light exploding into the sky.

#Not Your (soul)Mate #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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ohtheseboysilove · 6 years ago

Text

Insanely yours [Ben Hardy x F!Reader] !Epilogue!

Words : 5,100 K + (it totally went out of control)

Warnings : language, tiny bit of steamy time, angst, fluffy shit

Summary : Ben is being weird. You find the reason when you come back home earlier than expected.

Note : Here it is, last part of Insanely yours...please tell me what you think, if you’re happy with Reader desicion or disappointed ect, want to know everything xx

Also we know absolutely nothing about Ben’s family so in my story he got sisters but it’s not real important anyway

Masterlist & Requests

@/ none of these gifs are mine xx

Around 6 years later...

The sun was caressing deliciously your skin, only covered by a light summer dress. The wind was blowing softly in your loose hairs as you stretched your arms lazily. A book in your lap and a fresh lemonade in your hand, yeah life was good.

"Daddy catch me !" You smiled sweetly as your three years old son, jumped enthusiastically in the swimming pool, your husband catching him right when he entered the warm water. His giggle echoing in the garden and it was definitively one of your favourite sound in the whole world. "Can we play shark again ?" He asked with a pout, his small arms crossed behind your husband neck, his inflatable rubber ring in a dinosaur shape safely hanging around his waist. "You want to play Shark, again ? We played for hours this morning Bunny !" He pressed a loud kiss on his nose and your son giggled even more. "Please, daddy ! Do the shark !" Your husband sighed and wiggles his eyebrows before chasing your little boy in the water. He screamed loudly, trying to swim the quickest possible to escape the "shark" aka daddy. When your husband disappeared under the water, your son gasped worriedly, looking everywhere to find his father. Suddenly he reappeared and caught your son by the waist, making him laughed in a high pitched voice. "Alright Bunny, let’s go see mom and the little princess, I could have a snack now. How do ice cream sound to you buddy ?" Your husband tousled your son’s locks with a wink and they both get out from the pool, your little boy running happily to you. "Mummy ! Dad said I can have some ice cream !" His pretty eyes sparkling excitedly at the thought of the sweet dessert waiting for him in the fridge. "You’re so lucky !" You exclaimed as you put a towel around his little shoulders, rubbed his skin slightly. "Which flavour you’re going to choose sweetie ? Pistachio or chocolate ?" Your hand gently pushing away the wet hairs from his eyes. "Hmm, probably chocolate" He scrunched his cute little nose as he thought intensely and nodded before running to the kitchen. Your husband, well wet husband sat next to you in the long chair, pushing your legs away. You whined as he shook vigorously his head, drops of waters flying on you. "Hey would you stop that ? We already have three dogs, I don’t want an other one, you dork” You chuckled and pushed away his pouty face. "How are my favourite girls ?" He asked as he lay down next to you, squeezing you tightly but you happily rested most of your body on his chest, shivers running through your spine at the freshness of his skin. "We are perfectly fine” You replied as both of you looked toward the little mattress on the grass, your baby girl of three months peacefully sleeping under the shadow of the tree. Next to here was Lennon, snoring quietly, her little nose resting on her stomach, in a protective way. "She is so pretty, I can’t believe we did that" You gently stroke your husband’s jaw, pressing a sweet kiss on his lips as he sighed happily. "I love you sweet cheek" He murmured and you hummed softly, your gaze lost in his incredible eyes. "And I can’t thank you enough for our wonderful family you give us" "Well, if I remembered correctly, you were pretty helpful in the process, love” He snorted lightly before stealing a sip of your drink. " We did that as a team, love and I would like to say we’re a damn good team" You pecked his mouth, now tasting lemonade and he happily reciprocated the kiss, his hand resting on your hips. "We are an amazing team hon, the best of the best" He squeezed your waist playfully. "Daddy ! Mummy !" Your son came back, his mouth covered in chocolate as the rest of the ice cream was in the bowl he was carrying. Next to him was Bowie running, the newest addition to the family, a cute little puppy that you and your husband offered to your son for his third birthday. And walking calmly behind was Frankie, her usual brown furs covered now in grey as she wasn’t a young pup anymore but still the sweetheart as ever. "How is the ice cream bub ?" You asked as you cleaned his messy face with a tissue. "Good mummy !" He put a spoonful in his mouth, humming loudly before rubbing playfully his belly. "Oh boo-boo is awake !" He turned to his little sister and carefully took her tiny hand in his, he smiled widely when she grabbed one his finger, babilling curiously. "Hey, here is the daddy’s girl" You husband cooed completely under the spell of the little one, taking her in his arm, her small head resting on his bare chest. "Did you sleep well my love ?" He gently stroke her back as she slowly emerged from sleep, a little yawn escaping from her mouth. You heart beamed strongly in your chest as this adorable sight, you love them so fucking much, you didn’t know it was possible to love someone that much but three ! It was truly insane but in the most perfectly way. "What’s wrong with boo-boo ?" Asked your son as he took a closer look as his baby sister, her little face twisting in a grimace. "I think she’s hungry honey” You replied to your son as you made grabby hands toward your husband for the baby. He humphed a bit but gave you the little girl who was crying loudly now.

“I can share my ice-cream with you !” Exclaimed innocently your son, shoving his bowl under the nose of his sister.

“That’s very nice Bunny but your sister is too young for ice cream, for now she only drink Mommy’s milk” Explained your husband as your son climbed on his lap, looking curiously at you.

You carefully placed your baby on your chest and moved slightly your bikini top, freeing one of your breast, cooed gently at her as she immediately started sucking on your nipple, her face relaxing progressively. You son watched silently for few minutes, his brows furrowed slightly then he turned to his father.

“Can we go play Shark in the pool ?”

You coughed to hide a laugh but your husband saw you anyway, giving you a pouty face.

“Oh Bunny, don’t you rather do some colouring ? Or we can do a puzzle ?” He faked a big enthusiast smile to convince the little boy.

“No daddy, I really want to play Shark with you !” He beamed, tugging as his father’s arms. “Come on daddy !”

“Yeah you should go daddy” You teased, knowing perfectly that your husband was dreaming to lay down for a nap under the warm sun, but the perks of being a father...your kids became the priority number one. He opened his mouth to chat you back but you shushed him with a finger. “I carried nine months each of these little sweethearts, so you own me eighteen months of parent’s job” You smiled cheekily and he just sighed dramatically.

“Alright, if you want to play dirty...no sex for you tonight darling” He put a kiss on your smiling mouth and stood up, shushing your son to the pool. “You will keep those filthy little hands to yourself, far away from this extremely sexy body” He rubbed a hand on his torso before slapping his ass mockingly.

You snorted loudly as you shook your head. “Oh baby, you’re such a dork”

“But a dork that you love” He wiggled his eyebrows and blew you a kiss before joined your son in the pool, jumping with some silly moves in the water.

“A dork, that I love indeed” You smiled and sighed deeply, you never felt happier in your life, the decision you took this day, when Ben came back to you, was honestly one of the greatest your ever made.

And you never regretted it. No a single second. Not when you looked at your beautiful family that decision gave to you.

Flash back :

Ben’s warm lips were glued to yours, body against body and tongues tangled tightly. You moaned softly, you missed him so fucking much, nothing else matter except that he decided to come back to you.

“I love you so much (Y/N)” He mumbled against your mouth, his fingers stroking deeply your lower back. “Missed you, babe” He slid a hand under your shirt, squeezing gently your breast as you sighed, slowly laying down and grabbed Ben, he hovered over you, his smile didn’t leave his face for a second.

“I love you too Ben” You tugged as his shirt and he eagerly took it off and he did the same with your top, exposing your bare nipples to his hungry eyes.

He was finally back to you.

The blond’s pupils were wide and dark from lust, his mouth hovering on your tits, teasing you a bit until your begging moans satisfied him enough to give you what you wanted. Multiple kisses were pressed on your breast, Ben was incredibly soft and sweet with you, his eyes locked with you all the time, the fear of you running away was still deeply rooted in his mind. But you were not going anywhere.

His tongue licked a strip of you burning skin, travelling to your exposed stomach, lazy and comfy sighs were leaving continually your mouth, your fingers tugging gently on his blond locks.

“Babe...Ben...Oh god” His head was between your legs, his teeth nibbling playfully at your thighs, hips jerking uncontrollably. “Mmm feel nice...”

“I know babe, I know what to do to please you” He winked at you, pressing a light kiss on your bitten skin earning a noise between a giggle and a moaning. “Because you’re mine. All mine”

You could swear your heart stopped as soon as these few last words left his mouth. You felt like someone just dropped a bucket full of frozen water on your shoulder, the cold running through your veins in every inches of your body. And Ben immediately sensed your change of behaviour. Your breathing increased heavily but not because Ben’s caresses anymore.

“Babe, you’re alright ?” His smile falling worriedly as you sat up, face still shocked. “(Y/N), hey...what’s wrong ?” He crawled next to you, his hands cupping your jaw. “I’m sorry, it’s too soon I shouldn’t have–“

“Can you repeat what you just said ?” You asked slowly, you voice sounding almost robotic.

Ben blinked few times, trying to understand what was going on.

“I said...I’m...I’m sorry I shouldn’t–“

“Not that Ben ! You snapped angrily and he let his hands fall from your face at your little outburst. “Repeat your words after you said that you know what to do to please me” The blond was completely clueless but he was sweating profusely, his mouth half-open as he tried to remember what he had say.. You stared straight at him, your tense jaw clenching roughly on your features.

“I don’t remember babe, it’s just a thing I said during the moment” His fingers were nervously fidgeting with his tee-shirt on the floor. He knew he messed up somewhere but he could put the finger on it. “(Y/N), I’m sorry if I say something that could offend you–“

A dry chuckled escaped your mouth and you shook your head slowly.

“Offend me ? No, in fact I should thank you Ben.” You grabbed your top and put it back, no wanted to expose your bare chest to his eyes for an other second. He swallowed thickly and followed you when you stood up, his heart pulsating messily into his ribcage, the situation was sliding off his fingers and he didn’t like that at all.

“(Y/N) ?” His voice was weak and full of worries.

“You said : You’re mine. All mine” You replied as you rested your hands on the back of a chair, supporting yourself on it. You felt incredibly ridiculous. Ben looked at you, his big puppy eyes showing his confused emotions. Mostly lost and worried. “Do you know when I heard you say these words for the first time Ben ?” You asked with a fake smile, your eyes were burning with anger. He immediately shook his head, his lower lip tightly trapped in his teeth, biting it roughly. “Come on Benny, take a wild guess”

Your sarcastic tone sent a shiver thought his body, it was the one you used when you were hurt, hiding your sadness with pettiness, clearly announcing troubles. The blond furrowed his brows, he thought deeply, looking for the right answer to please you. Did he say that for one of your birthdays ? Or for your first time together ? Or...he closed brutally his eyes. The sadness and anger in you voice fitting the piece of the puzzle in his mind. Shit. Virginia.

“Yes, fuck right ?” You faked a snort when the guilt drowned his usual jovial face. He remembered now. “I could repeat every single words you said to her that day, Ben. And hers. She replied to you : I’m all yours babe” You spat the last word, absolutely disgusted by this stolen nickname.

How did you let him call you like this again ? And why did you do the same ? Fucking dumb bitch you were.

“Ba– (Y/N), I’m so sorry, I’m fucking sorry–“ He started apologised again but you purely ignored him, you needed him to understand what he did to you, how much he hurt you that day.

“I remember every things Ben, all the little noises you had make, how loud she had scream your name...I tried to erased that afternoon from my memory but I fucking can’t” You grunted through your teeth, Ben’s sobs only adding fuel to your anger. “Every time I close my eyes, that’s all I can see, you fucking her, like nothing else matter”

“You are all what matter (Y/N), only you” He whined with pleading eyes. “It’s was mist–“

You brutally drop a hand on the table, the sound echoing through the room and Ben stopped talking, his Adam's apple bobbing loudly in his throat.

“Don’t you fucking dare say one more time it was a mistake Ben !” You took a deep breath, tugging roughly at your hairs. You were fucking pissed off. And sad. Incredibly hurt. “A drunk kiss at a party, you could eventually call that a mistake, but that...” You chuckled weakly. “It’s not a mistake, fucking and apparently dating, an other girl behind my back for months ! Then dumped me without any hesitation ? That’s a choice Benjamin, not a mistake. You made a choice this day, you chose her over me..” You angrily rubbed your watery eyes and sniffled quietly.

You wished he never had come back to you. He was now forcing you to do a choice you shouldn’t have to do, not after what he did. You knew what you had to do but it wasn’t that easy, sadly.

Ben whispered something that you didn’t here and you chuckled once more.

“If you’re still apologising Jones, you should stop wasting your saliva becau–“

“I broke up with her !” You took a step back at his sudden outburst. “She didn’t end thing between, I did it. It was my choice, not her. I choose you (Y/N)” He knuckles were white from gripping roughly at the chair, he pinched the ridge of his nose, his arms trembling from nerves. “I regretted my decision as soon as I broke up with you. The next morning when I woke up next to Virginia for the first time, you were the only thing on my mind. It felt nothing else than wrong, you were supposed to be in my arms, no one else. And certainly not here”

You were taken aback by his confession, your mind was blinded with confusion.

“You’re lying” You whispered as you curled up on yourself as soon as he tried to reach for you. He dropped his arm and shook his head.

“I’m not. I swear on Frankie and Lennon’s heads (Y/N), I fucked up everything, I’m a stupid asshole who couldn’t see that he had the most beautiful girl in his life because I was a selfish dumbass who felt lonely.” He bit the inside of his cheek to control his anger, the last thing he needed to do was screaming at you when he was the one who was wrong.

“You’re a fucking idiot Benjamin” You knew he was saying the truth, you could see it on his eyes and he wouldn’t bring your lovely girls in this mess if he was lying. He was maybe a selfish prick but he would never do something that could hurt them. Even religiously speaking. “Why did you wait eight months to come back ? Tell me why you abandoned Frankie like a fucking coward if you weren’t happy with this bitch ?” The tears was burning your eyes and your nose was drooling disgustingly, you were a pathetic mess but the situation was completely unreal.

“I was ashamed (Y/N) ! I treated you like shit, I knew you would had never take me back and honestly you deserved so much better than me” he confessed with a desperate voice, his shaky hands grabbing yours. You couldn’t move and you were surprised to still stand on your legs. “I wanted nothing than come back here and begging you like I just did but it wasn’t fair for you. So I stayed with Virginia few more months, trying to persuade myself that I was happy with her. But it wasn’t true” He turned to the shared patio where the dogs were playing happily and sighed sadly. “And for Frankie...I– I couldn’t look at her without seeing you, I was feeling so fucking guilty all the time. And she was so fucking depressed (Y/N), you should have seen her, crying and hiding in behind the sofa in the flat that she didn’t know, looking for you and Lennon every day. It broke my heart to saw her like, and all of her sadness was because of me. So I thought it was better to bring her back to her mom and sister” He chuckled softly when Frankie jumped on Lennon, both of them rolling on the grass, tails waging strongly. “I still think I made the good decision. With Frankie I mean, she is happier here, I can see that”

“Yes, you did the good thing Ben, Lennon was in the same state but I couldn’t...I couldn’t separate myself from her, I was too lonely. Fuck I sound really selfish right now” You chuckled quietly and Ben shook his head, his big eyes softening at your words.

“No (Y/N), don’t say that, you certainly are not selfish, all of this was because of me. Not you.” He cleared his throat, not quite finish with the explications he owned you. “I didn’t plan on coming back to you, even if I was dying to do it but yesterday it was my mom birthday, and ya know all my sisters were here, it was a real nightmare, I totally deserved it and they weren’t tender with me, at all"

You smiled a bit, you knew Ben’s sisters and you could totally see them kicking his ass for dumping you. You had a pretty good relationship with them but after the break-up they understood easily that it was hard for you to keep talking with them. They sent you few texts apologising for Ben’s decision, talking shit about him, you did laugh when you read it but they never mentioned the cheating so you easily guessed that Ben just said he found someone else. It confirmed you that right after.

"My dad didn’t say anything, except I was a big boy and made my own decision but mom and my sis, jesus, they didn’t stop for a single second like every time I saw them these last few months. But yesterday it was mom’s birthday so I couldn’t leave and so I kept drinking and drinking because I knew they were right, about everything. I was so mad and sad...and fucking slashed”

You whined, knowing how could Ben be when he was in a bad mood and drunk.

"So I told them everything" He continued as he rubbed his face, sighing loudly. “I told them I cheated on you, that I completely broke your heart...I swear I never saw my parents so disappointed. My sisters went mad, screaming at me and all, at the end mom kicked me out"

You eyes were the size of dinner plates, not expecting that from your ex stepmother. You did have a good bond but Ben was the only boy she had and she was very attached to him. Even a bit overprotective.

"She really did that ?"

"Yeah she did” He chuckled but it was easily to see how hurt he was about the reject of his family. “She said that she didn’t raise her kids to have this kind of behaviour, that she needed of time to...get over my shitty comportement” He shrugged, pretending it wasn’t a big deal but you knew how important family was for Benjamin, always been. "She was right thought, I fucked up royally with you, I didn’t know I could do something like that" He shook his head, his face twisted with shame.

"Yeah me neither" You replied bitterly, you had few thoughts about why Ben had been weird, feelings for someone else yes, it did painfully crossed your mind but cheating on you...it didn’t even figure in the list.

A silent fell between the two of you, awkward and really uncomfortable. You didn’t know what to do. And he didn’t know either.

"So...after you mother kicked you out, you went back at Virginia’s place and she kicked you out because you were hammered ? Then you ended almost throwing up on my doorstep” You asked, your fingers playing with the hem of your top. You were buying yourself some time to think at the big question you needed to answer :

Could you forget Ben ? Truly and completely ? Continuing your shared life without keeping any grudge against him ? If you gave him an other chance then used his cheating against him in the first next fight you two had, there was no point, expect keeping hurting each other. It would be unhealthy for both of you.

"No I didn’t go to Virginia’s place" He was answering your previous question. You almost forget your asked him as you were completely lost in you thoughts, biting your nails nervously. You glanced at him and his brows were furrowed roughly, like he was almost...offended ? "I went straight here, you were the only person in my mind. And I broke things with Virginian three months ago, she was mad at me all the time because I was distant and it’ wasn’t fair for her either"

The fact that he thought about how unfair it was for this girl and preferred break up with rather than make her suffer longer spread a bitter taste in your mouth. Yes, he was right and did the right thing but why he didn’t do the same for you ?

“I think, deeply I knew I was still in love with you and I didn’t want to tell you...and lose you” He replied the question you didn’t even ask and you weren’t really surprise. Ben could read you like an open book. “Selfish prick I was and now I’m paying the full price” He added with a defeat sigh.

Things weren’t going anywhere. An hour ago you were about to sleep with him, throwing any rest of self-love and pride of yourself in the bin. Then he said these few words who completely ruined the mood and made you remember what he did to you and how weak you were to just take him in your pants at his first try. You were ready to kick him off from your flat but then again, he opened his fucking mouth and shit, this bastard was good with words. He even used the family chord, with his mum’ story. He was desperate and ready to use everything he could to have you back, he clearly told you that. You appreciated his honesty, for once. You could have ask for few days, to think properly but you knew yourself too well. More time meant more conflicted thoughts in your head, the headache already coming at you. It was now or never. Yes or No ? If you said yes, you would take things slowly, giving you time and space to heal. If you said no, it would be truly over you would maybe regret it. Or not. No one could know that.

Ben cleared his throat, his nerves were on the edge as you were silent for some long minutes now. He took few steps closer to you but didn’t touch you, only watching you intensely with his beautiful green eyes, those which made you fall in love but which also break your heart in tiny pieces. You swallowed loudly and he did the same, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

“Do you think you can give me a second chance ?”

End of the flash back.

You glanced at your baby girl, she was apparently full as she moved her mouth away from your nipple, a small yawn escaping from her perfect little lips. You put back your bikini top and gently moved her, placing her fragile head on your shoulder. You softly rubbed her back, cooing with this childishly voice that everyone made when they spoke to a baby. You kissed her head, inhaling deeply her delightful baby scent, wondering how you get yourself so lucky.

When Ben had ask you the fateful question, you had freeze for a minute. Then you took a deep breath, looking right into the blond’s eyes. You knew the right answer, there was only one acceptable to his request.

And it was no.

You didn’t have a lot of memories of the after. You remembered vaguely ugly cries and begging. But you had keep your head up, it had been hard and truly heart broken, god yes. But you knew you deserved better. And you were damn right.

A month after the second break-up, if you could call it like this, you were in a taxi driving to the airport. You knew London wasn’t for you anymore, not with all these memories of you and Ben, at every corners of every streets there was something that would remember you of your ex-boyfriend and if was being ridiculous how many places you stopped going because of that. You needed to go away from here, more especially from him.

It took you a second to decide where to go. New York. The big apple. A vivacious and full of life, giant city. The perfect cure to heal a heart broken, you were more than ready to go and get lost in this part of the globe.

Maybe you had been a bit to eager and you definitively had rush the things off but luck hadn’t been in your side on your very first day either. When you had arrive at the cheap motel that you had rent for a month, until you found what to do next, the owner of the – rather shitty – establishment had refuse you the entry because of Lennon and Frankie, denied shamelessly the fact that he had say yes when you had call to check directly with him. First day and you were already homeless, walking around the endless city with two tired dogs and a massive luggage, hoping to find another cheap place to stay for you and your baby girls. Honestly you had been on the verge of the tears, stress eating you alive. Then after two hours of useless wandering, a man had steal your handbag with the most important things inside as passport, visa, wallet and credit cart, every vital things to survive in an unknown city. That when you had burst in tears, completely freaking out.

Thankfully you still had your phone in your back pocket and, without any idea of what to do or where to go, you had turn to the only person who knew who was living in New York. You had look in your repertory, hoping you still had his number, and thankfully yes, you did. Between two hysterical hiccups you had call this number for the first time. At that period, he wasn’t even a friend, just...a vague acquittance for you but you didn’t have any other choice.

It had been clearly your faith, all those incidents had push your right onto his arms and you were incredible grateful for that. This man, who had only know you as girlfriend then ex-girlfriend of his good mate Ben, had let you sleep in his guest room for weeks – with your two dogs – without any hesitation after your sobbing and pathetic calls. He had been your greatest support, helping you in every step to get all your identities papers back, giving you a tour of the best secret spots of the city, flat hunting with you, introducing you to his friends...It hadn’t been love at the first sight, your relation were based on a strong friendship, the life saving kind of bond. But after months of friendship then a drunken kiss which led at a confession of shy feelings from both side...It had happen. Falling for this awesome man had been the most natural thing that ever happen to you, no rush about anything, more like a self evidence. You had fall pregnant only few months after you had move together, taking you both by surprise but it didn’t scare you, nothing could scare you with your man at your side. He asked you to marry him a year after the birth of your son, I gave you enough time to lost your baby weight, he had tell you with a goofy grin, you had indeed complain about it for months until you had been back at your normal weight, much confident for trying on dresses . Your wedding have been wonderful then you had buy this big house outside New York, to raise your little family which became bigger with the arrival of Bowie the puppy then recently, your beautiful baby girl.

It was funny how life works, if you hadn’t call him this day, he would probably never have ended marrying you and giving you two beautiful children. But thankfully you did.

So yes, leaving Ben this day was obviously one of the greatest decision you ever made.

But the best one you ever did was definitively to call him. Everything had start with a simple but nervous sentence pronouncing through your phone :

“Hi...is this still the number of Joseph Mazzello ? Oh thank god, Joe, I really need your help, you won’t believe what happen to me”

Hihi my sweet cutie pie Joe was my little easter egg that I couldn’t resist to ad in the story xx

Tag list : @mickmoon @allornone @derekxsammy @amy-brooklyn99 @stella2445 @likeit-or-leaveit @khaleesi2017 @directedbyallen

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben x reader #ben hardy #queen #bohemian rhapsody #borhap

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stubbornness-and-spite · 5 years ago

Text

You wake up every morning at the same time and you eat breakfast and you go to work. You like your coworkers and your job and your friends. You live alone, but you're happy. You teach yourself to cook and you start to enjoy cleaning. You invite friends over for dinner a few times a week. You read a book or watch a movie and you go to bed. You sleep well and wake up rested and do it again One day you go to a library. It might be for a research project or it might be for personal interest. Either way, you go. You find a book that looks older than your great-grandparents, but for some reason, it’s available for anyone to read. Something compels you to read it out loud. The room is nearly empty so you figure there’s no reason not to. You have to sound out the words that don’t sound like any language you’ve ever heard, but it’s the Latin alphabet so you assume you’re pronouncing things right. Turns out you are. The room goes black and there’s a flash of light. When you are able to see again, there’s a man standing in front of you who wasn’t there before. He’s short, but otherwise average. You can’t distinguish any of his features, but he has the kind of face that could get lost in a crowd. You’ll realize later, looking back, that you can’t remember what color his eyes were or his hair or his clothes. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He fixes you with an impatient look and you’re not entirely sure what happened or what you did, but you know one thing: you definitely made at least one mistake.

The man stares at you. “Well?” He finally says. “Are you going to make an offer?” “An offer?” you ask. It’s an empty and useless question and you know it. There’s so much more that has happened with no explanation, but it’s the only one that has a chance at getting a straight answer. You’re not a diplomat or a poet and you don’t know how to twist your words to get what you want like the man in front of you seems to. The man groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. The gesture seems so human and innocent, but his eyes and stance and aura remind you that there’s no way that he can be. “An offer for your soul,” he said as if he thinks you’re some kind of idiot. “What is it that you want so badly that you’re willing to make a deal for it?” Oh, well that’s certainly interesting. “I don’t want to make any deals,” you tell him. “I’m quite content.” The man laughs coldly and you wonder if he knows how to laugh any other way. “Everyone wants something and no one who tries to summon a demon is timid enough to not admit it.” You consider banging your head on the table, but as you know all too well, it usually doesn’t help. “You’re a demon.” The man stares like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You want to make a deal for my soul.” The man demon’s lips curl up slightly. “Darling, I’m here because you want me to be. I don’t make a habit of being places where I’m not wanted.” He smirks and your blood runs cold. “There’s very few of those, so they’re easy to avoid.” You nod a little, not really paying attention to what your body is doing. “I wouldn’t say that you’re ‘unwanted’, but to be completely honest, I summoned you by accident.” The demon’s smirk becomes pinched. “Babe, I don’t get summoned by accident. You opened a contract between us. You can either complete the deal and get something out of it or I’m not leaving.” You grimace. “Terribly sorry, then. You’ll be sticking around for a while.” “Fine,” he snaps. “Then you’re buying me coffee, boo.” You nod. You might be willing to turn down a demon when the other option is signing over your soul, but making him mad seems like it might be an even worse mistake than summoning him in the first place. Maybe. ~ It hits you that you desperately need to reassess your life as you sit at a small table in a cafe opposite a demon. You work at a flower shop. You write stories in your free time. You have a small group of close friends. You have a good relationship with your parents. Up until a few hours ago, you thought you had your life in order. “Problem, babes?” the demon snarks at you. His coffee order is disturbingly sweet for a denizen of hell. “Nope,” you reply quickly, your voice jumping up an octave. “No problem at all.” “Nothing I can… fix for you?” he murmurs, leering at you over the rim of his cup. You shake your head frantically. “Nope, no, everything’s fine.” The demon sighs. “Look,” he sighs. “I’m a jerk, not a dick. I’m not going to trick you into making a deal, even if you basically tricked and trapped me. When you make a deal with me, you’re going to want it. I don’t make deals with people who aren’t begging for it. When you make a deal with me, you’ll know it and you’ll be desperate for me. Promise, sweetheart.” You grimace. “So just asking you for something isn’t enough to sell you my soul?” He scowls, looking a little disgusted. “No. It’s not, though unless you’re making a deal, there’s no guarantee I’ll actually do it.” He hesitates, but says, “You do know making a deal isn’t necessarily for your soul, right?” “What?” He takes a long drink of his coffee and sighs. “It’s common practice, sure. A deal is an exchange of intangible things. Something that a mortal wants in exchange for something of equal value. It’s usually for a soul because what else does a human have that is of equal value to their greatest desire and who casts a summoning for anything other than their greatest desire? Magic is half incantations and half intent. I honestly have no idea how you even managed to summon me. Demonic summonings aren’t supposed to take unless the caster is genuinely desperate and willing to do anything to prevent situations!” He huffed, slamming his cup down on the table. “Sorry,” you mutter. You didn’t do it on purpose, but you summoned and bound a demon. He’s trapped until you make a deal and you have no intention of making one. The demon shakes his head, cocky grin returning. “Don’t worry about it, sugar. I’ve been in much worse situations when someone summoned me without wanting a deal than hanging out in the mortal world and getting coffee.” “Um…” You debate not saying anything. This isn’t a friend. This isn’t a blind date. This is a literal demon from hell who wants to make a deal with you. Treating him like a friend or even a person is dangerous and you’re not a thrill seeker. But maybe you are because you ask him anyway. “Do you have a name? I don’t usually get coffee with total strangers.” He barks a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve got a name.” You wait for him to tell you his name, but he doesn’t. “Can I have your name?” His face twitches, but he keeps grinning. “Not a chance, baby boo. You already managed to bind me despite all logic. I’m not handing over my name like an idiot. Call me Berry.” You frown. “Oh-okay, I’m -” He cuts you off. “I know humans aren’t the brightest, but I thought you’d have more sense than that. Don’t give me your damn name. Come up with something else or I’ll just keep calling you whatever I feel like.” You pause. He went from being hostile to almost kind in barely an hour. “Call me…” you trail off. “Think of something good, baby. You’ll be hearing for a long time.” There he was. The creepy demon who was trying to steal your soul. It would be very bad for you to forget that or to think he was actually a person. “Call me Corvus.” “Pretty name for someone pretty. Wanna fly, pretty bird? Wanna make me a trade for some wings of your own?” His grin is dark and his bangs are falling over his face, but you can see the glint of his eyes as he sings his temptations. “No,” you say with a smile. “Everyone I love is on the ground. I might not be clever, but I’m not dumb enough to make a deal with loopholes that big.” He tips back his coffee cup and downs the last drops like a shot. “I thought you just weren’t dumb enough to make a deal.” You take another slow sip of your tea, not taking your eyes off of him. “That too.” ~ He ends up following you home. You’re not sure exactly what you expected him to do, but your apartment is not meant to house two people and certainly not one person and a demon. He looks around disdainfully from behind you as you open the door. You walk in but he doesn’t follow. You turn to look at him questioningly and see a mix of disgust and humiliation on his face. “Gotta invite me in, sweetie,” he snaps. “Can’t cross the threshold until you do.” Realization dawns on you. “I can just… not invite you in?” The demon’s hands curl into fists and his eyes flash, but a second later, his cocky grin is back and you wonder if you imagined it. “Sure, hon,” he says with a laugh. “You could just not invite me in. You’d just have a very pissed off demon on your doorstep the moment you came out.” His face really does darken as he leans back to look around the hall. “I may not be able to hurt you directly until after we make a deal, but your neighbors certainly haven’t bound me.” You swallow hard and force a hospitable smile. “Berry, please come in.” He grins sickeningly and pats your head as he walks by you and into your house. “There now. That wasn’t so hard, was it, sugarplum?” You don’t respond. He whirls around. “I’d suggest answering me when I ask you a question, darling, especially when you just suggested leaving me outside for the night.” He stalks over and leans into your space. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, sugarplum?” “No,” you mutter, trying to avoid his eyes, but he’s so close that he’s all you can see. “It wasn’t.” He smirks, his nose twitching. “Good job, birdie. Now I’m tired. Show me where I’m sleeping tonight.” He pauses and his smirk widens into a grin that shows off his sharp teeth. “For the foreseeable future.”

#my writing #an experiment with second person #deals with the devil #disregard for personal space and boundaries from a character #fairy tale inspired #demons #summonings #accidental magic #might be continued #i need a writing tag

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dearlazerbunny · 6 years ago

Text

Angel

Pairings: Kylo x Reader

Genre/Rating: G, some language

Words: 4,200

Summary: So this was requested a loooong time ago and I’ve honestly forgotten who requested this (if it was you, please let me know!) but they wanted some medical/mobster Kylo x Reader and goddamn it took me long enough but here it is 😂 hope y’all like it!

“We’ve got one coming in.” You nod and snap on a pair of gloves, waiting at the ER entrance for your next arrival. “Six foot two, approximately two hundred pounds. Banged up but conscious; gunshot wound to the left arm as well as some nasty lacerations…”

Your fellow nurse doesn’t get any more out before your patient is wheeled through the door. He’s so tall he barely fits on the gurney; his feet just barely hanging off the end. Through the lacerations and bruises you can see tattoos covering his biceps and forearms, plus more peeking out from the edge of his shirt where an EMT is attaching electrodes to him. The arm not closest to you seems to be hit the worst- someone is keeping pressure on the wound with a blood-soaked towel.

“Surgery?” You ask the doctor whose come over to supervise, and he nods.

“The room is being prepped. Take over for the EMTs, start an IV. We don’t want him to lose much more blood.”

You nod and grab a clean towel before tapping in, much to the relief of the emergency responder. “Hi there, my name is Y/N and I’m going to be taking care of you okay? Can you tell me your name?”

He blinks at you in the bright lights, seemingly registering your words at a slow pace. “Kylo.”

“Alright, Kylo, you’ve been in an accident, but we’re going to get you fixed up here in no time.” You look down at the towel, which again is already soaked through. You toss it and steal another from a passing cart. “Can you tell me what happened?” You try to keep him talking and conscious, as well as distract him from the obvious pain he must be in.

He shakes his head, bewildered. “Damn car came out of nowhere. Started firing, no warning. Probably that fucking Resistance scum, I told Hux they needed to be dealt with…”

You don’t really understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth, but hey, as long as he’s talking, fine by you. You get him prepped for surgery and then join the team in the surgical room where everyone is waiting for him. As you begin to push the sedative into his IV, he actually reaches over and grabs your hand, making you still, unsure if he’s going to get violent.

“What are you giving me?” His eyes are wide and fearful, looking around at the masked doctors surrounding him. “What’s going to happen?”

Is he… scared? A big guy like this? “All this is is a sedative- we have to put you to sleep for the surgery. We’ve got to remove the bullet from your arm and then stitch up the wound. It’ll be okay, we’ve got the best surgeons around. No need to worry.”

You wait a few minutes for the medicine to kick in, but with what you gave him he’s simply woozy. You calculate another dosage based on his weight and give it to him again. He doesn’t grab you this time, just looks at you with a sleepy sort of smile as you push the medicine. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

It takes a moment before you realize he’s talking to you. “Will I be here? I don’t know which nurse will be assigned to you-”

He frowns. “But I want you.” He says it with the tone of a petulant child, and even though it’s wildly unprofessional, the juxtaposition of such a whiny voice coming from such an intimidating person makes you giggle.

“I’ll see what I can do, okay Kylo?” You pat his arm that doesn’t have doctors swarming around it and that seems to reassure him enough to lull him into sleep.

You do end up assigned to him, slightly to your dismay. You’re a nurse, you’re not used to much rattling you anymore, but something about him scares you a bit. Your hospital is in the heart of the city, you get plenty of gang violence and whatnot, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen a patient quite this… intimidating. Nevertheless, you do your job, tending to his dressings and IV bags while waiting for him to wake up. He does so without warning, and while you’re working on the opposite side of the room you suddenly feel eyes on you. When you turn, your patient is awake and looking at you with hazy eyes.

You smile at him. “Hey there, Kylo. How are you feeling?”

He mumbles something that you don’t catch, so you move to his side. “What was that?”

“Are you an angel?”

You laugh, though not disparagingly. “Sorry, hon, just a hospital nurse. You’re lucky you didn’t see any angels yesterday, they almost lost you on the table a few times.”

His brow furrows, and he looks at his arm, which is bandaged heavily. “Blood loss?”

He says it so matter of factly, like he’s done this before, you can’t help but ask. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve done this a few times.” His speech is slow and tired sounding.

You try not to raise an eyebrow. Judging by all the scars on him, he definitely has, but you try not to think about that too hard. His eyelids are fluttering, probably about to be pulled back down by the sedatives lingering in his system. You pat his arm lightly. “You go back to sleep now, okay? You’ll wake up soon.” His eyes are on you the entire time as he nods back off.

You shake your head and head back to the nurse’s station. One of your coworkers sees you come from his room and nods towards the doorway. “How’s he, then? Scare the daylights out of you yet?”

You look at her, confused. “No. Why?”

“Considering he’s one of the most notorious gang members in the city…”

“He is?” I mean, he certainly looks the part, but his words don’t really seem to match his persona.

The other nurse nods. “You really don’t keep up with the news, do you? Kylo Ren, right hand man to Armitage Hux. Part of the big First Order gang that runs around on the north side of town. Didn’t you see his tattoos?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know what they meant…” the geometric designs, mostly in red and black, had gone over your head.

“Well, good luck with that. We’ve got security on call when you need them.” She says it very flatly, like she’s so sure you’ll need them, but you shake your head.

“He’s been surprisingly… sweet, so far.”

The other nurse laughs. “Yeah, right. Good one.” She gets a call on her pager and goes to answer it, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You glance back towards Kylo’s room. Would he really hurt you? For some reason, you don’t think that’ll be the case. He seems remarkably tame compared to some of the other gang members you’ve taken care of. But that also might just be the sedatives- you’d have to see how he was once the drugs were out of his system.

…

That was your third shift in a row, so you were off for several days. During that time, you couldn’t help but wonder about the tall man with dark eyes laying in a hospital bed just a few blocks away. Had he given the other nurses any trouble? Was he already discharged? Tugging your hair into a bun to pull it out of your eyes, you secure it with a few extra pins. Just for good luck, whatever the situation may be.

As you walk through the recovery ward’s big double doors, the first thing you notice is the prevalence of security and a big, booming voice screaming something you can’t quite make out. Looks like the extra pins was a good idea. You wrangle your lanyard back onto your neck and rush in, only to find people swarmed in one particular room.

Kylo Ren’s room, if you remembered correctly.

Peeking over the shoulders of the policemen without trying to get in anyone’s way, you can see the man struggling against restraints on the bed that his hands and feet have been strapped into. Two people are trying to hold him down, though it doesn’t look like they’re having much success. A young nurse is running around with a vial and syringe in her hand, probably trying to get a sedative in him, but he’s thrashing about so much she can’t even stick him properly.

Without thinking, you rush into the room and pull the medicine from the other nurse’s hands. At first she recoils, but once she understands that someone else is taking over the situation she visibly relaxes and scurries out of the room. You shake your head. Some people just can’t handle emergencies.

Your practiced hands fill the syringe easily, and when you turn back to him- Kylo- you can finally make out the words tumbling out of his mouth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I’ll kill you! Take these things off of me or I swear to do I’ll-”

“KYLO REN!” Honestly, you’re surprised at the voice that comes out of your mouth. It’s much more commanding than it sounds in your head. And it’s enough to get every head in the room to turn towards you, including Kylo, who actually stops squirming when he sees you. “If you don’t calm down I am legally authorized to sedate you for the safety and protection of yourself and others.” You expect him to howl in response, but his eyes just grow wide, and somehow he grows even stiller. “Do you understand?”

He frowns. Nods. Shakes his head, then nods again. “Yes- no. I mean. Gah!” He rattles the restraints again. “Can you please just take these off of me?”

Now that you don’t seem to be in any danger of him hitting you, you cautiously walk over to his bedside and check the straps on his wrists. “Well, first of all, they’re way too tight,” you mumble, seeing raw red strips of skin peek out from under the restraints. You look at the nearest policeman. “What did he do to get restrained?”

He looks at you like you’re crazy. “He’s a public danger.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Was he threatening anybody? Attempt to get out of bed?”

“N- no, but-”

You look at Kylo, who’s still staring at you. “If I take these off, are you going to be belligerent or will you settle down?”

“I just want the damn things off. I wake up and they’ve strapped me down for no reason.”

Staring at him a moment, you focus on his eyes. Big brown eyes, with a softness behind them you wouldn’t expect from someone of his… caliber. He seems sincere. And a little desperate. You nod, and start undoing the clasps, speaking as you do. “I’m afraid this is my patient, officers, and therefore I take full responsibility for my safety as well as his. I don’t think we’ll be needing you any further.” You look pointedly at said patient. “Will we?”

He looks almost remorseful as he shakes his head.

The officers still clearly don’t know what to make of this situation, but they leave nonetheless. The syringe of medicine is forgotten in the pocket of your scrubs as you undo all four of his restrictions. He rubs his wrist carefully as you work on his ankles, discarding the straps onto the floor. Jesus, who put these on? You can barely even get them undone.

“Thank you.”

You look up at Kylo, who still seems very focused on his wrist, and won’t meet your eyes. You tilt your head. Maybe he’ll talk to you?

“Can you tell me what happened?”

He exhales through his nose, controlled. “I woke up and I was strapped down. And you weren’t here. I kept asking for you and they said you were gone, and I-” he pauses, visibly upset. “I don’t do well with cuffs.”

“Let me see?” He doesn’t know what you mean until he sees you holding out your hand. Carefully, he places his larger hand in your small one, and you turn it over, inspecting the rub burns on his wrist. You keep expecting him to jump or flinch, but he seems perfectly content with you standing so closely beside him. His knuckles are scarred from old wounds, and his hands are rough, but you also don’t think they would hurt you. “You’ll be okay. Do you want me to get some dressing for your wrists, or would that be too restrictive?”

He thinks for a moment. “I think that would be okay.”

So you go about dressing and wrapping his wrists, making sure not to wind the bandages too tightly for fear of setting him off. It amazes you how calm he is when not thirty minutes ago he was going off the rails. He watches your fingers work like they’re hypnotizing him, just breathing and not saying a word. It’s almost peaceful in the little hospital room, just you and him, nobody talking but the silence saying multitudes.

…

“Favorite color.”

Kylo rolls his eyes. “That’s such a basic question.”

You snort. “Well, what am I supposed to ask? What’s your mom’s birthday?”

That makes him crack a smile. “Red. What’s your worst habit?”

“Oh geez, how am I supposed to know?” You’re leaning against the sink, barely skimming over his patient files, mostly focused on his grin and this silly game he’s initiated with you. As you flip a page, you glance at your nails, bitten to the quick. “Oh, biting my nails, definitely. Nervous habit.”

“Not from me, hopefully.”

“Um, no.” You continue to read, expecting another question, but the silence makes you look up. “What?”

His face softens. “You’re not afraid of me.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but it’s said like a wondrous sort of realization.

“Noooo? Should I be?”

Now it’s his turn to snort. “Probably. I’m three times your size and could snap you in half with one hand.” “Well, if for some reason you do, at least drop me off at the ER afterwards, deal?” You expect him to laugh again- you find yourself wanting to make him laugh- but he’s got a serious look on his face. “No, I’m not afraid of you, Kylo. If I was I wouldn’t be here.”

He shakes his head. “Every other hospital I’ve been to- and every other time here- people are too scared to even come in the room.”

“You don’t seem all that scary.” He gives you a disbelieving look, and you relent. “Okay, when you were yelling a few days ago, that was scary. But really…” you look at him, propped up in bed, bandaged within an inch of his life, hair going everywhere and eyes clear. “You’re pretty okay.”

He does smile this time. “You’re okay yourself.”

“I try.” You tuck his folder under your arm. “Do you need anything else?”

“Um.” He looks down at his sheets, fiddling with he edge. “Maybe. Could you… could I get something to help me sleep? I think-” he winces, just enough so that you can see it. “I think the nightmares are what made them restrain me, last time.”

Oh. “Yeah, I can do that. Sit tight okay?” He nods and you leave to put in an order for the pharmacy. As you do, you exhale to yourself and wonder how anyone could be scared of Kylo if they’d just sit down and talk to him.

An hour later, Kylo has phenergan in his system and you’re dimming the lights in the room, closing the blinds so that the starlight outside doesn’t shine in his eyes. “Leave it open,” he says, only slurring his words a little bit. “I like the stars.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself when your back is turned to him as you comply. Such a simple request to make him happy. His eyes are sinking as you walk back over to him. “I’m off for the next few days, and you’ll probably be discharged by then. It was really nice meeting you. And try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

You turn to go, and you think he’s asleep, but you feel a hand grab your wrist. He’s looking at you with sleepy eyes, and you can almost see the starlight reflected in them. “Don’t go.”

“Sorry, hon, I’ve gotta let you sleep.”

But instead of letting you leave he gently pulls you back over to the side of the bed. Even with the meds trying to take hold of him, the way he’s looking at you is so focused. Like you’re all he wants to see. You don’t say anything, just stand there and let him look, and you look back at him. Something brushes your cheek, and before you can recoil, you realize it’s his hand. The backs of his fingers are brushing your jawline, up to where your hair is tucked behind your ear, then playing with the strands that have fallen loose from your bun. And to your surprise, you lean into his touch, just ever so slightly. You don’t think anyone has touched you so tenderly before.

Kylo whispers something you don’t quite make out. “I can’t hear you, hon.”

“You really are an angel.” The words come soft and sweet, and wash over you like sunshine. Carefully, you take his hand and place it back to his side- but not before briefly entangling your fingers with his, lingering just a little too long.

“I think only for you.”

…

Kylo stands across the street from the hospital- your hospital- looking up at the windowed building about where he thinks the floor he stayed on was. With you. An ambulance passes, sirens wailing, heading for the ER entrance, and suddenly he’s back on the stretcher, opening his eyes and looking up at the most beautiful face he’s ever seen. And he’s- well. No stranger to women, let’s put it that way.

“This is disgusting.” A few feet away, perched on a bench, Kylo’s boss Armitage wears a suit and a hat pulled low over his trademark fiery hair. “You need to get your mind back on the job.”

Kylo barely acknowledges his words, only grunting in response. He’s still daydreaming about the time he made you laugh. When you came in and calmed him down just by being in the room. That had never happened before. When you wrapped his wrists so gently it pulled at a heart he thought had shriveled past recognition long ago.

Behind him, Armitage sighs. “Well, obviously this isn’t going away anytime soon. What do you need?”

Without moving, Kylo raises an eyebrow. “You mean that?”

“Fuck, if it means I can get your head back where it should be, sure. What do you need?”

He’d thought about asking Armitage for help. But help with… what, he didn’t know. How should he approach you? At the hospital? On your way home? Would you be happy to see him? Or would you think he was a creep? Kylo’s fingers twitch at the memory of your fingers wound through his. Even if you rejected him, he’d sooner go crazy over simply not knowing.

“Well…”

…

Jesus, it’s been a long day. A long week, really. You try to pull a pin out of your bun that has been digging into your scalp all day while simultaneously fumbling for your keys, already mentally falling into bed. But not before changing out of these scrubs. They’re covered in… well, you can’t honestly remember, but it’s not glitter and fairy dust, and even these are your back up scrubs you change into when the others get nasty. This is just the kind of week where you run out of back up scrubs, sadly.

The door opens, you drop your bag down the moment you step inside, not caring where it lands, then reach down to untie your tennis shoes when someone coughs. Wait.

What?

You freeze, still bent over, afraid to look up. Someone is in your apartment. From your awkward position you can see the silhouette of feet in the dark, casting a shadow over your hardwood floor. Someone is sitting on the couch in the dark in your apartment.

So while trying to casually continue to untie your shoes, even with your fingers shaking like hell,, you manage to quietly unzip the front pocket of your bag and pull out a small can of mace at the same time. One shoe comes off. Then the other. You stand, eyes trying to focus in the dark, but all you see is black and the small suggestion of gray, indicating a presence.

One… two… three…

You flip on the light switch with the mace squarely in front of you, shaking with adrenaline as you prepare for the intruder to leap at you. But… he doesn’t. He stays on the couch, and now his hands are in the air, eyes wide as he stares down the bottle of mace from a few feet away.

“Y/N, don’t-”

“Who-” you pause. Take in the curly hair, the brown eyes, the tattoos decorating his arms, one of which has a fresh surgical scar still healing on it. “-Kylo?”

“Um… hi.”

Relief sweeps through your body so fiercely you have to lean against the door for support. He must have seen you waver because he gets up in an instant, reaching for you. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay, I-”

“What the hell are you doing!?” You practically shriek, your voice an octave higher than its normal range. “What- what?! Kylo? I nearly attacked you!”

He winces, and backs up a few paces, like he’s afraid you still might. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll leave, I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea-”

He’s rambling as you get your breath back, and eventually your brain begins to process that Kylo Ren is standing in your apartment. It’s been two weeks since he was discharged from the hospital. And despite your hands still shaking and clutching the mace and your heart beating out of your chest… you’re happy to see him. Honestly happy to see him.

“Kylo- Kylo! Stop!” He does, shutting his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Um- waiting for you.”

“In my apartment? In the dark? How did you even get in here?”

“I- you probably don’t want to know.”

Jesus Christ. “So you-” you blink and shake your head in disbelief, still not processing. “You broke into my apartment. To wait for me until I got home from work. Do you- do you need something? Why didn’t you just go to the hospital?”

“I needed to see you.”

Your brain goes into nurse mode, and you immediately step closer so you can see the still-healing wound on his arm. “Did it not close up properly? Is it infected? If so we need to get you on antibiotics-” you reach for his arm without thinking, and he intercepts you midair, grabbing your wrist like he did so many times in the hospital. The feeling is almost familiar. You look up at him. “What?”

“The scar is fine. I just-” he seems to be at a loss for words. The two of you stare at each other for a second. And then, ever so slowly, just like he did the last night you saw him, he lets his hand wander up to your cheek, stroking a piece of hair back behind your ear.

You suddenly realize the two of you are very, very close.

But you don’t move his hand away either.

“Just what?” Your voice is a little breathy, probably because your heart is once again racing at a million miles an hour. It ratchets up to a million and one when Kylo steps even closer and pulls you to him, letting his head dip towards yours so he can capture your lips in a kiss.

It’s gentle and incredibly hesitant, so soft you can hardly tell it’s there. But when you don’t move away his hand slides to the back of your neck and he kisses you deeper, making tingles run all up and down your spine.

Both of you are breathing hard when he finally pulls away. “I just needed to do that at least once,” he whispers, and before you can respond he’s shouldered past you and is halfway out the door.

“Kylo- Kylo! Wait!” You shut the door before he can leave, practically barring it with your body. “You can’t- you can’t just say nothing and then kiss me and then leave and-”

His eyes darken as he looks down at you. “Do you want me to stay?”

You hear yourself reply before your brain catches up with your mouth. “Yes.”

He smiles, a brilliant smile that’s become the quickest way to melt your heart. “Then I’ll stay.”

“Good.”

Both of you blink. And you don’t really know if you or he’s the one who goes in first for the next kiss, but then, it really doesn’t matter now does it? Because the way he murmurs “my angel” against your lips has you reeling like you have just fallen from heaven.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #Star Wars fanfic #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #reader insert #fanfic #medical fic #mobster kylo

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wistfulcynic · 6 years ago

Text

CSJJ Day 8: The Key

Summary: They are strangers with benefits. Lovers who don’t know each other’s names. And then they meet.

Rating: M (a hard M)

a/n: An angsty, smutty little story, perhaps not entirely in keeping with the ‘joy’ part of @csjanuaryjoy, but what can you do? I set out to write a light and frothy secret-relationships fic, but, well... I think I used up all my fluff on the Secret Santa. Not even sorry.

Read it on AO3

Tagging @resident-of-storybrooke, @teamhook, @jennjenn615, @deathbycaptainswan, @tiganasummertree, @kmomof4 and wish I could group-tag the whole of the CSJJ Discord, because having random crazy conversations with you lot has been the best part of 2019 thus far.

The Key

He let himself in. With his key.

Because she, Emma Swan, the guarded, the cautious, the woman with walls around her heart so formidable that Fort Knox could benefit from her trade secrets, had given a key to her apartment to a man whose name she didn’t even know.

She told herself it was for the sake of convenience. It allowed her to await him in the bedroom clad in lacy lingerie, tiny scraps of fabric that wouldn’t be able to hold her in if she tried to move in them, scraps designed for no purpose other than to adorn her slender form before being torn from it by desperate fingers. Lingerie such as she was wearing now, reclined on her bed, waiting.

It allowed her to enjoy the look in his eyes when he appeared in the doorway, already unbuttoning his shirt, the hot, hungry look that still sent shivers skittering across her skin even though they had been fucking regularly for more than a year.

It allowed her to watch as he slowly undressed, his eyes fixed on her face while hers roamed his form, holding her breath as the smooth skin liberally adorned with dark hair was revealed, inch by torturous inch until finally his cock sprang forth, already hard and ready for her hands and her mouth and her cunt.

It allowed her to fist her hands into her sheets in anticipation, panting now as he crawled onto the bed, his blue eyes almost black and his breathing as ragged as her own, stroking his fingertips up the inside of her thigh and teasing the edge of the lace between her legs as his mouth trailed kisses up her neck.

This was what she told herself, and what she told him. What she wanted them both to believe.

The truth was that she had given him the key because she trusted him, this man she had picked up in a bar. She didn’t know his name or his job or his favourite colour, but she knew the way he touched her, reverently, as though she were something worth treasuring. She knew the earnest way he focused on her pleasure before taking his own, the way he listened to her sighs and remembered each moan, making every encounter better than the last. He didn’t know her name, but he knew every inch of her body. He knew precisely where and how to touch her to make her writhe and moan and scream, and she knew the same about him.

She knew that he would leave as soon as she asked, without protest, never pushing or trying to coax from her anything more than she was comfortable giving.

She knew also that he would stay, his eyes warm and his smile brightening the darkened bedroom when she twined her legs around his and buried her face in his neck, that he would hold her close and safe in his arms and whisper “Sleep, darling,” in her ear. She knew that the next morning he would ask her no questions but would make coffee while she made pancakes, that they would talk freely together about movies and music and books and travel and their theories on the meaning of life with not a word spoken about themselves, their work, their families, their names.

She knew that she knew him, the essence of him, his body and mind and soul, even without the details of his life. She knew that she loved him. And she knew, from the joy that he took in giving her pleasure, from the look in his eyes when he came deep inside her, from the light in his smile when he woke up in her arms, that he would never leave her. That he would keep coming back, keep treasuring her, holding her close, whispering endearments into her hair when he thought she was asleep.

As long as he never found out about her, about what a mess she was and how hopelessly broken life had left her, then she could keep him forever.

As long as he never learned her name.

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

He was moving inside her, his lips on her neck, his cock stroking her deep, again and again over just that spot, the one he could always find. She was moving with him, thighs squeezing him tightly, denting the curve of his ass with her heels, their fingers intertwined above her head. She was moaning in his ear, disjointed syllables and broken words of encouragement as he panted curses into the curve of her shoulder. She felt tingling in the tips of her toes and the base of her spine, the pleasure sizzling across her skin so intense that the buzzing of her phone on the nightstand was barely an echo of it, drowned by the explosion of sensation that burst within her as she came, clenching around his cock and dragging him along with her into ecstasy, his groan of pleasure reverberating through her and intensifying hers.

They lay together, still gasping and entwined, as the sweat dried from their skin and they slowly became conscious of the buzzing phone, and of the fact that it had been buzzing for a solid five minutes.

“Are you going to get that?” he murmured against her collarbone.

“Mmmmm,” she said, and he chuckled, his warm breath ruffling the damp blonde wisps at her nape.

“You’ll have to let go of my hand,” she said.

“Apologies, love.” He released her hands and rolled off her, looping his arm around her waist and pulling her close against his chest as she put the phone to her ear and he fell into a doze.

“‘lo?” she yawned into the phone.

“Emma? Is it too early, hon? You sound sleepy.”

“No, ’s fine.” Emma blinked, trying to focus, trying not to melt into the warm body behind her. “What’s up, Mary Margaret?”

“I’m just calling to remind you that you’re having dinner with us tonight.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Just to warn you, there’s a friend of David’s coming too.”

“Mary Margaret—”

“Now I know you hate setups, Emma, and I promise this isn’t one. Killian’s not really your type, and David actually thinks he might be seeing someone, just maybe not officially. 'On the down low', as the kids in my class say. I just wanted to ask you to please be nice. It wouldn’t hurt you to make a friend, and honestly Killian could use one too. He’s had a bit of a hard time recently. Just promise me you won’t freeze him out, or, you know, punch him if he smiles at you.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“Only slightly. Remember Walsh.”

Emma sighed. “All right, all right, I’ll be nice. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Aaah, I knew it was too early for you! I’m sorry. Go back to sleep, sweetie, I’ll see you tonight!”

“‘Bye, Mary Margaret.”

She put the phone down on the nightstand and snuggled deeper into the man at her back, jostling him awake. He hummed, his arms tightening around her as he nuzzled her cheek. “Sleep, beautiful,” he murmured, the words slightly slurred.

“Sleep,” she agreed, and they drifted off together.

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

Emma arrived at Mary Margaret and David’s bearing a bottle of wine and a sense of resigned determination. Be nice, be nice, be nice, she reminded herself. Even if this was a setup —and she didn’t trust Mary Margaret not to lie to her about it being one— she needed to be nice. Needed not to let herself overreact to simple civility. Needed to remember that not every man in the world was out to use her. Sure, every one she’d ever dated had been, but still they couldn’t all be.

He wasn’t, her nameless lover. She felt a thrill at the thought of him, the memory of his hands on her skin just hours before. He would never hurt her. As long as she never let him know too much of her, he’d never have cause to leave.

Mary Margaret led her into the living room where David was chatting with a man. A tallish one, with dark hair who was standing in a very… familiar… loose-jointed way, one she’d only seen once before, and—

“No,” she gasped, and he turned, the blue eyes she’d last seen twinkling at her as she kissed him goodbye lighting up when he saw her, then as he registered the look on her face they clouded with fear.

“Emma, this is—”

“No!” she cried, interrupting Mary Margaret. “No, don’t tell him— no, no, no.”

Mary Margaret and David were staring at her in astonishment, Killian —because she now knew his name was Killian— in alarm. He held out his hand to her. “Love—” he began, and she stumbled backwards, shaking her head, trying to deny the awful truth of the situation, of the only good thing in her life being ripped away, just like everything else.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, fighting back tears. “I can’t. I’m so sorry.” She turned and ran for the door, ignoring the voices calling after her.

She was almost away when she heard him, him alone, the frantic note in his beloved voice breaking her heart.

“Wait!” he cried “Wait!”

She hurried as best she could in her heels, but his long legs soon caught her up. He grabbed her arm, stopping her. She didn’t turn around.

“Won’t you even look at me?”

She did, and nearly broke at the brittle mix of hope and fear that she saw in his precious eyes.

“I—” he began, then stopped on a strained half-laugh. “I don’t know what to call you.”

“My name is Emma.”

“Emma.” Her name in his voice clawed at her heart and she wanted to scream and rage, wanted to fall into his arms and have him hold her close just once more. “I’m Killian.”

She nodded. “I know.”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking anxious. “Look, I know that this has sort of blown up all of our boundaries, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It— could even be a good one.”

“It’s the worst possible thing!”

“Why?”

She groped for the words to make him understand. “I can’t— I can’t be in a relationship. I’m too— people don’t—” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I can do sex,” she said. “But I don’t know how to be a girlfriend. I don’t know how to be that close to someone, how to let someone in. I’ll— I’ll just disappoint you, mess things up like I always do, and then you’ll leave.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“You would. They all do, once they get to know me. It’s best if we just—” she broke off as her throat closed up, refusing to let her speak the awful words. She swallowed, and forced them out. “It’s best if we just end it now.”

She risked a glance at him, and wished she hadn’t. His face was dead white, his eyes wide and desperate.

“Emma, I’ve known from the beginning that you have… reservations about intimacy. But darling, if you really think you can’t have a relationship, you’re very much mistaken. We have one, right now, you and I, one that is very, very important to me. You know me better than anyone ever has, even without knowing my name. And I know you, everything that I need to know to be sure that I want you in my life, in whatever capacity that you wish. We understand each other, love, we always have. Do you know how rare it is, this connection between us?”

“That makes it worse,” she whispered. “Things with you have always been so perfect, I can’t bear to ruin it.”

“You won’t, you couldn’t—”

“I can’t take that chance. I’m sorry.”

He gripped her arms tightly. “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking on the word. “Please don’t do this, don’t end us. I love you.”

“No.” She shook her head, denying it, though she knew he spoke the truth. “No, you can’t.”

“And yet, I do. What’s more, you love me too.”

“I— I don’t,” she lied, convincing no one.

“Then why did you give me a key to your apartment?”

“That was just for convenience—”

“It was because you trust me with your heart.” Anger edged his voice now. “Don’t lie to me Emma, and don’t lie to yourself.”

“I’m not—”

"You are! Would you really throw away our chance at happiness, throw away the happiness we already have, because things might not always be perfect?"

"You only think we're happy because you don't know me. If you did, you wouldn't want me anymore."

"I do know you. And there are no conceivable circumstances in which I wouldn't want you. Wanting you has all but consumed me from the moment we met. Look at me, darling." He put his hand under her chin, tilting her face up until their eyes met. “I love you. I want you. We can be together, we can be happy, you just have to trust me with your head the way you already do with your heart. Tell me you don’t want that. If you can look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me, I'll never trouble you again.”

“I— I—” She looked into his gorgeous eyes, seeing everything he felt for her within them. She did want those feelings, wanted him. So much. Too much to take them, too much to risk destroying them. “I can’t.” She tore her eyes away. “I can’t do this. It’s over. Don’t come back.” She wrenched herself from his grasp and fled.

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

The envelope arrived through her mail slot two days later. It was brown, sturdy, with a small, heavy object within. She tore it open and upended it over her kitchen counter. A key fell out, bouncing on the counter with a clang that carried an ominous finality, far too loud for its small size.

Her apartment key.

She stared at it, shattering inside. With trembling fingers she reached out to touch it, astonished to find her hand and arm still whole and not crumbling into dust under the weight of her agony.

He’d returned her key.

Of course he had. When had he ever not done as she wished? She had told him not to come back. What use would he have for the key?

Slowly she picked it up, closing her fist around it, so tightly that the sharp edges broke her skin. She squeezed until she felt blood welling up from her palm and then she broke, the walls around her heart swept away by wave after wave of emotions, feelings she had repressed for years but never vanquished. Sobs wracked her body as she sank to the floor, scraping her throat as raw as her soul. She cried for the baby she’d been, abandoned and unloved, for the child shunted from house to house but never to a home, for the heartbroken teen who’d had her baby in jail and then given him up, hating herself for abandoning him as she’d been abandoned but knowing she couldn’t be a mother. She wept for the woman, who would rather break the heart of the man she loved than risk being happy with him.

All her life people had left her. Then she’d pushed away the only one who wanted to stay. The only one who wanted her.

The only one who loved her.

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

Emma pounded on the bright red door of her friends’ house, brushing tears from her cheeks as she did. It swung open to reveal David, his face harder and angrier than she’d ever seen it. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her.

“David, hi, I’m— I’m looking for… can you tell me how to find Killian?”

“Why do you want to know?” he asked. “So you can break his heart again?”

She had no answer to that.

“Killian’s had a rough couple of years,” said David. “He lost his brother and his girlfriend and his job, one after the other. He came here to heal, and for a time he did. He was happy with you, Emma, happier than I’d ever seen him. And now he’s a fucking shell of himself, worse than before. Honestly, I think he’s better off without you.”

He made to shut the door but Emma was quicker, blocking it with her shoulder and foot. “No!” She cried. “David, please, I’m so sorry. I was wrong to do that to him, wrong to end things between us. I want to fix it. Please. Please, help me make it right.”

David watched her wring her hands, saw the tears that dripped unheeded down her blotchy cheeks, and felt torn. He was certainly not unsympathetic to Emma's distress or her difficulties. Mary Margaret had told him about her past, not everything but enough that he could understand what drove her, what made her so afraid to trust. However, he had his own friend’s well-being to consider, and Killian’s despair over the past few days had left David distraught and terrified that his friend might be driven to do something rash and unforgivable. Killian had never been particularly rational when he was deeply wounded. As far as David was concerned, Killian had been through enough and had enough still to work through without having to deal with Emma’s crap as well. There was a new assistant librarian at the university, a pretty, friendly woman called Belle who had hit it off with Killian immediately. He’d be far better off with someone like her. Someone bright and cheerful who shared his interests and could maybe make him smile again. Someone who might actually be able to give him her heart.

“I’m sorry, Emma, but I can’t let you hurt him any more,” David said, gently but firmly pushing her away from the door and shutting it with a click.

Emma leaned her forehead against the icy cold wood and sobbed. “But I love him,” she choked out, then nearly fell on her face when the door opened again.

“Do you mean that?” asked David sharply.

She looked up, and hope sparked in her chest at his expression. “Yes, I mean it!” she cried.

“You truly love him?”

She nodded, willing him to believe her. “So much. More than anything.”

“And are you prepared to have an actual relationship with him, one where you use each other’s names and do more together than just fuck?”

Emma winced, but she supposed she deserved that. “I’m ready to try,” she said honestly. “It scares me to death and I’ll probably fuck everything up, but I love him enough to try.”

David’s eyes softened with the kindness and understanding she was accustomed to seeing in them, and she let out the breath she’d been holding in a relieved whoosh.

“I don’t think you’ll fuck everything up,” he said. “One or two things, sure, but that’s inevitable in relationships. He’ll fuck some things up as well, but you’ll work through them together.” He stepped back, opening the door wide. “Come in and warm up a bit, and I’ll write down his address for you.”

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

Outside Killian’s office door Emma paused, breathing deeply and gathering her courage. This would have been difficult enough without her having to come to the damn university library to do it, but she didn’t want to leave things as they were any longer than necessary and David had said Killian would likely be working late.

(“He works at the university library?”

“Yep.” David smirked. “He’s the curator of the rare books department.”)

Emma was still struggling to process that the flirty, sexy, bone-meltingly gorgeous man who made the worst puns she’d ever heard and fucked her better than anyone else ever could was a librarian. Yet his name was on the door and the door was slightly ajar, enough for her to see him through the gap seated behind a large wooden desk. His hair was mussed, not in its habitually deliberate, sexy way, but in the manner of hair that had been gripped tightly in despairing fists and tossed for hours on a sleepless pillow. His eyes were shadowed, his face pale. He looked heartbroken.

He looked broken.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Killian,” she croaked, her voice breaking along with him, along with her own heart.

He looked up, anger and despair and resentment and hope and love all written plainly on his face. “Emma,” he whispered.

She took another, tentative step forward. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You were right. About everything. I do love you, and I believe that you love me. But I— I’m not easy to love, Killian. I’m too jagged, too hard, and I push people away… I’ll hurt you…”

He surged to his feet and around his desk, wrapping her tightly in his familiar embrace, sighing into her hair. “I’ll risk it,” he said hoarsely. “I’d risk anything for you.”

She sobbed, clinging to him, and his own tears dampened her cheek. “I love you so much, Emma,” he breathed. “I almost told you a million times, but I knew you wouldn’t welcome it.”

“I knew it anyway,” she said, “though I never let myself really acknowledge it. It’s in everything you do, and say, and how you touch me.”

His smile glowed as bright as sunshine, warming her to the depths of her soul. “I knew if anyone could hear what I wasn’t saying it would be you,” he said. “No one understands me like you do.”

“And no one has ever known me like you do,” she admitted. “Even without knowing my name.”

He chuckled. “Do you want to hear something funny?”

“Sure.” Anything that would keep him smiling like that, she wanted to hear it.

“I always called you Swan in my head,” he said, and she laughed. “From that very first night when you said no names.”

“How on earth did you come up with that?”

“From your pendant, of course," he said, brushing his fingertips across it. "And it just seemed to suit you: graceful and elegant and strong. And with a very sharp beak.”

She laughed again. “I think that’s stretching the metaphor a bit, but okay.”

He brushed the hair back from her face, cupping her chin and stroking her cheek with his thumb. “My beautiful Swan,” he said, kissing her gently. “Love of my life.”

She sighed against his lips, leaning into him to deepen the kiss, feeling her whole body sing as he held her close.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Killian,” she whispered when they broke apart. “I’m sorry it took me so long to accept how I felt about you.”

“It doesn’t matter, darling,” he replied. “We’re together now, truly together, with no secrets and no barriers between us. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Me too,” she admitted, tears springing to her eyes again. “I just never thought I could have it.”

“It’s yours now, my love, along with anything else you want that is in my power to give you.”

She kissed him again, deep and hard, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He growled deep in his throat, her favourite sound, and gripped her hips tightly, pulling them into his. He was just sliding his hands under her shirt when she pulled back, panting.

“I almost forgot,” she said. “I have something to give you.”

“You do?” He looked surprised, and delighted.

“Yeah.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small metal object.

He raised an eyebrow. “The key to your heart?”

“You know perfectly well it’s my apartment key, Killian.”

“That’s what I said, love.”

❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️ ~ ❄️

#CSJJ #cs january joy #csjj 2019 #smut #angst #captain swan #cs ff au #profdanglaisstuff #the key

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butmomilovepeter · 6 years ago

Text

Silent Lucidity

oooof okay this one’s kinda long

3090 words

but yeah, basically shameless peter whump featuring baby morgan stark this is also the unofficial sequel to Greatest Creation but honestly it doesn’t matter

Peter doesn’t really remember his reunion with Tony. Not that he doesn’t want to remember, but it’s all a blur. He remembers light. He remembers the crowd. He remembers Tony looking at him. He remembers Tony hugging him. Maybe he hugged back, but he didn’t know. Maybe he cried, maybe Tony cried, but his mind was elsewhere. He remembers wanting to cry, at least, but whether he did or not was lost to him.

He had closed his eyes while Tony embraced him, and then suddenly he was in a bed. Wearing athletic pants and one of Tony’s sweatshirts. Mr.Stark’s house? his mind thinks numbly. He unwrapped himself from the sheets, swaying on his feet as he stood. The sudden realization hits him fast, because oh God I was dead I was dead I was dead.

He sank back into the bed, wrapping his own arms around himself.

“Mr. Parker?” Tony’s ever-alert A.I. speaks.

“F-FRIDAY?” He stutters. The lights slowly grow brighter, and he realizes it’s daylight out, and the clock on the side of the bed read 2:46pm.

“Mr. Stark wanting to know the minute you woke up. He’s on his way now, but he’ll be a couple minutes.” Her voice is sweet, considering it’s the first one he truly hears since...since being dead. He nods to the ceiling.

Then a noise. A different noise. One that he thought we never be heard in the Stark household.

A baby crying.

Peter senses it’s been awhile since the snap. Curiosity over takes him as he tip toes out of his room, following the cries. He enters the room at the end of the corridor, opening the already ajar door. It’s a nursery, comfortable and littered with baby toys. And next to the window is a crib. He takes hesitant steps towards it, wondering if he’s intruding.

There’s a baby, staring up at Peter with big brown eyes. And despite still feeling dizzy and scared, he smiles. Because the kid looks like Mr.Stark. Except for the hair. That was all from Pepper.

“You got him to stop crying as soon as you looked at him,” a voice said, in fake awe. “He usually doesn’t stop for awhile.”

Peter spun around on his heel, looking at Tony, who was leaning on the door frame.

“Hey, Mr.Stark.” He said softly, his voice cracking without warning. Tony smiled, but there was a certain guilt behind it.

“Hey, Pete. I see you’ve met the baby,” he began, walking towards them. “I know you’ve got a lot of questions, then.”

Peter nodded, poking a finger at the baby for him to grab. There were so many things to ask, but his muddled and confused brain could only focus on so much.

“How long was I...you know?” He said finally. The baby gurgled at Peter, playing with his hand. Tony sighed, taking the armchair behind him.

“‘Bout a year and a half, give or take. I’ll tell you about the big Thanos showdown later, but it took awhile for us to figure out how to get everyone back,” he paused, looking suddenly amused at the baby. “Long enough for him to come along. He can even pull himself up now.”

The baby rolled on to his stomach, then pulled himself up with the rods of the crib. Then, with one hand, he reached for Tony, curling his little fingers. Tony sighed, smirking as he stood to pick up the baby.

“He’s lucky he’s adorable, because he keeps me and Pep up all night.” He said through a fake smile. Peter laughs a bit at that, then stops when he’s reminded that that’s the first laugh since I’ve been dead I was dead I was dead I was-

“You okay, kid?” Tony asked quietly, as the baby pulls off his glasses and starts playing with them. Peter took a deep breath, staring out the window.

“Generally or right now?” Peter asked honestly. Tony ponders this for a moment before taking the glasses back and setting them on the table nearby.

“Both.”

“Right now? Confused because you have a baby, but generally?” He pauses, his stomach churning with a similar twist that the snap gave him. “Not great.” He doesn’t look at Tony’s eyes because he knows if he does he’ll start crying. He listens to the baby babble for a moment before lifted his head back up, feeling Tony’s gaze on him.

“Kid?” Tony asked, concerned yet understanding.

“Yeah, Mr.Stark?” Peter mumbles. He finally meets Tony’s eyes, feeling the emotion build up in his chest.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He offers quietly. But Peter doesn’t answer, because all his mind can think about is Where’s May? Where’s Ned? How did they defeat Thanos? How long was I asleep? Why was I dead I was dead I was dead Oh My God I was dead-

“Breathe, Peter. You’re just overwhelmed.” Tony reassures, making Peter realize he had been holding his breath. He hugs his arms to his chest, taking a large breath before nodding.

“What’s...what’s his name?” He asks, almost with an innocence that he didn’t know he still had. At that, Tony softens and smiles.

“Morgan Stark.” He locks eyes with Peter. “Morgan Peter Stark.”

Peter feels his face grow bright red. He looks at Tony’s son, who reached his hands out for Peter. In return, Peter graciously accepted the baby into his arms.

“You named him…?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Tony nodded.

“Seemed fitting. Naming my kid after my first son.”

At that, Peter feels his eyes well up with tears, afraid he’ll burst out into sobs if he opened his mouth. The baby placed his chubby hands on Peter’s cheeks.

“If you didn’t want to overwhelm me, you’re not doing a very good job.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. He expects Tony to get mad, but instead he bursts out laughing.

“Alright, Pete,” he says through giggles. “We’ll take it slow.”

“Peter.” A soft and familiar voice calls him as he walks down the hallway. He turns and she’s there, whole, inviting and warm. She was wearing a sweater and faded jeans, her hair in a low ponytail and the lines under her eyes are darker than he remembered.

“May.” He breathes out, and when he says it, it becomes real again, and for a moment he pushes out the thoughts of ash and death and fear, because she’s real. And a little part of him feels real again too.

She smiles as tears stream down her face, but her eyes are happy. He hears the thumping of his own feet as he runs towards her, catching himself before he completely knocks her over. She crashes into him before he can though, and before he knows it he allows himself to cry for real for the first time. Her fingers ran through his hair, her cheek pressed into his head. He can feel her chest shaking as he clings to her. They sink to the floor on their knees. Peter felt the emotion build up in his chest before all coming out in one breath.

“I’m sorry, MayIshouldacomehomebutIdidn’tandthenThanoswonandthen-”

“Peter!” She interrupted with a sob. “Baby, that’s behind us! I’ve got you back now.”

He buried his face into he shoulder, feeling small.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled again.

“Hon, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m here now.” She reassured, cupping his face with slender fingers. She stared at him with tender eyes before she furrowed her eyebrows.

“What?” He ask, tilting his head. She put a hand to his forehead.

“You’re very flushed.” She stated with concern. Peter shook his head but melted into her touch.

“I’m fine, May. Just...a lot’s happened.” Now that she mentioned it, he did still feel dizzy, but he knew why. The moment of bliss was over and the fear returned. He felt his breath quicken as he remembered the ashes; as he remembered dying. He felt May pull him to her chest as they sat on the floor, rocking him back and forth.

“Shh, Peter. It’s over. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

But he didn’t quite believe her.

It was May’s idea, actually, for Peter to stay with Tony and Pepper the next two weeks. She didn’t want to leave him, but people were starting to return to her jobs, and May was needed just about everywhere at work. Up early in the morning and coming home late at night, but she didn’t want to leave Peter alone during the day, and she knew that Tony would gladly say yes.

And Peter was in love with Morgan. He spent so much time playing with the baby that it was hard to pull them away.

“I think he’s coping.” May whispered to Tony once as they watched Peter read to Morgan.

“It’s gonna take awhile for him to adjust. You said that the school is letting the kids take the year off?” Tony said in a hushed voice. May nodded.

“You’ll keep an eye on him? You won’t be able to call me.”

“I’ve got him.”

It was the end of the first week Peter was there that he had the worst nightmare yet. He’d had them every night since, but he usually just wakes himself up and curls in on his stomach and waits till morning, and he’s usually up with Morgan.

But it was different this time. Because he didn’t wake himself up.

“Arachnid.” Thanos grumbled towards Peter. It’s bitter and cold and his mouth feels like dust. He felt his chest tighten, pressure on his temples. It was cold, yet he felt a layer of sweat on him anyway. He couldn’t see anything. Just hear. Just feel.

“What? What do you want from me?” He cried to the darkness. A wave of pain hit him, making his knees buckle. He groaned aloud, but no sound escaped.

“You think it’s over, little one? You think you’ve won? It’s far from done.” The voice made his blood cold, yet it was so low and smooth that it almost calmed him. Almost.

“What do you...?” He whimpered, feeling the dust build up on his teeth.

“How funny. The youngest of you so called “Avengers”....was the only one to not have a painless death.”

“Please…” he heaved. “What do you mean?”

“My promise was a quick and painless death. Yet you...you felt it, didn’t you? Not just your own...you felt half of the universe die.” Thanos said. Peter shook his head rapidly, making his vision swim— even in the darkness.

“Why me?”

“All that despair...it won’t go away. Neither will I.”

“Why are you doing this?” He asked weakly. Thanos chuckled.

“You’ll never escape, boy. I’ll always be here,” He retorted. “Look at your hands.”

They were ash.

“Nonononononononono please. Please please please!”

No Mr.Stark to hug. No May to cry to.

Peter did the only thing he could still do.

He screamed.

The clock read 3:21am. It was Pepper’s turn to check on Morgan. Tony enjoyed his sleep, waiting for Pepper to return. He was glad for soundproof walls, glad that Pepper kept the baby monitor on her side of the bed. Her choice. And Tony was glad Peter was okay. Glad his son would have a really good kid to look up to; a brother to have. For once in his life, the only feeling Tony felt at the moment was glad. Happy.

Until he felt feet thumping down the hallway. He shot up quickly as Pepper appeared in the doorway, her hair up in a messy bun with Morgan on her hip. She panted as if she had ran down from the babies room.

“Peter. It’s Peter.” She said through breaths. Tony flipped the blanket off, touching Pepper’s arm with a gentle tug. He half ran down the hall with Pepper hot on his trail. He heard sobs as soon as he left the room.

“What’s happening?” He asked frantically.

“I’m not sure. I was walking around with Morgan a bit, and then I heard him. I didn’t want to go without you.” She responded, hoisting the baby up as she walked. As they approached the door of Peter’s room, he heard it.

A loud, painful, devastating scream.

Tony felt his heart break in two.

Behind him, Morgan whimpered at the noise.

“I’ll handle this, why don’t you go lay with the baby? I might be awhile.”

Pepper nodded, giving a sympathetic look towards the door.

“If he needs anything, just tell me.” She said softly. Tony nodded. He opened the door without hesitation, his blood freezing at the sight of Peter thrashing, tangled in his sheets, sobbing.

“Please...I don’t wanna go. Please don’t make me!” He cried. Tony lunged at the bed, holding down Peter’s arm in one hand and cupping his face with the other. Overwhelming heat radiated from him as tears streamed down his face.

“Wake up, kid,” Tony said, shaking him lightly. “Wake up!”

“I can’t do it again. I don’t want to!” Peter’s eyes snapped opened, bloodshot and glossy. He hyperventilated as eyes pupils circled all around the room but saw nothing real. Then they met Tony.

“It hurt so bad, Mr.Stark. It hurt.” He groaned, gripping Tony’s t-shirt with full strength, something he usually keeps in control. Tony grabbed Peter’s wrists with as much force as possible before hugging Peter close to his chest, using all his strength as Peter still squirmed in fear. He shivered and gave into Tony. Tony winced in sympathy at the heat from Peter.

He ran his fingers through his hair like he had seen May do a couple times.

“What hurt, kid?” He murmured. Peter gripped Tony’s arm, sobbing.

“No...please…” He pleaded. Tony gulped, unsure of what to do.

“What’s his temp, FRI?” He asked to the ceiling.

“104 degrees, sir. He was having nightmares all week, but his fever spiked a couple hours ago, resulting in the fever dream.” She replied. Shit. He pulled Peter closer, murmuring reassurances under his breath.

“Breath with me, Pete. It was just a dream.” Tony said softly. The kid took a shaky breath before shaking head against Tony.

“No...he keeps coming back. He told me he wasn’t gonna leave me alone. The despair...” Peter said, voice slurred. He was less shaken, but still terrified as he clung to Tony.

“What else happened, kid?” Tony asked, rubbing Peter’s back as he gently laid him back down.

“He said…said that I was the only one.” Peter responded, voice delirious and eyes unfocused.

“Only one what?” He prompted, letting Peter return to his arms again. Peter gripped Tony’s shirt, but with less force as before.

“The only one felt pain when they died.” He said, barely a whisper, before he closed his eyes tightly at the sudden movement. Tony felt his heart leap to his throat at the innocence in Peter’s choppy voice. He instinctively pulled the damp curls back from Peter’s forehead, thinking maybe he should go get something to bring down the fever. Or maybe he should let him sleep it off. But if the nightmares came back…

But then he put two and two together.

“Did it hurt when you turned to ash?” He asked in a low hesitant voice. “Peter?”

Peter nodded.

“Real bad.” He whispered, his voice cracking. He hugged Tony tightly, shaking slightly.

“Because of your senses?” Tony asked, aware that Peter’s powers made everything more intense; mostly pain.

“I felt myself get ripped apart,” He responded in his feverish state. “But...not just that.”

Tony’s lips thinned, putting one of his hands on Peter’s cheek.

“What do you mean, Peter?” He asked, slight panic in his tone. Peter sighed deeply, because Tony doesn’t just say his full name normally. He means it.

“Ya remember...in Star Wars...A New Hope?” Peter slurred. Tony half smiled at the kid, who was somehow always able to make some sort of reference. “When, uh, Obi Wan senses the destruction of, um...Alderaan? Like that. But worse.” He swallowed, tears spilling out of his eyes. Tony felt his own breath sputter, dropping his smile. He had suspected Peter’s death was different than everyone else’s, just by the nightmares that came and the absent mindedness. The way he was quiet with everyone except for the baby. But to have sensed the deaths of billions of people? That has a way bigger impact than just turning to dust. And on top of all that, he was miserably sick. He held him protectively --almost cradling his head like he does Morgan.

“I’m so sorry, kid.” He grumbled into Peter’s hair, not sure what else to say to him. Peter mumbled a couple of “no”s before sucking in a deep breath.

“I felt everyone’s fear, Mr.Stark. And then it was gone. But I wasn’t gone yet,” Peter said, almost a question. “Why? Why didn’t I…” Peter trailed off. Tony’s heart clenched at the pure pain in Peter’s voice. He knew the rest of that sentence. Why didn’t I die as quick as the others?

“I don’t know, Pete. I really don’t.” Tony muttered, arms full of Peter. Peter cried silently, feverish and still slightly delirious. They were quiet for a long, long time.

“Tony?” Tony felt Peter vibrate at the sudden words.

“Yeah, kid?” Tony responded.

“Is he…” Peter started. “Is he ever gonna get out of my head?” He sounded younger than Tony had ever heard him. Tony sighed, hugging Peter as tightly as he thought he could without hurting him. How could he respond to that?

“One day, Peter. One day it won’t hurt as much.” Was the response he came up with. He had to convince himself that was true, or Peter would never be able to. Peter half nodded against him.

“That’s what May told me after Ben died, but it hasn’t stopped hurting.” Peter said, his words still drawn out and tinged with fear.

“I know. You just gotta trust me, kiddo.” Tony stated. He felt the grip on him loosen as Peter tiredly laid his head on Tony’s shoulder. “You’re still really warm.” Tony used the back of hand to Peter’s forehead again.

“May called it a week ago. She always knows this stuff. ‘Shoulda listen to her.” Peter said with a yawn. Tony chuckled at that.

“She’s a smart lady.”

“Mmmhmm,” Peter hummed. “You’ll stay until I fall asleep?”

Tony nodded.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

#peter parker #peter parker whump #tony stark #irondad #spiderson #spiderman #ironman #infinity war spoilers #infinity war #morgan stark #pepper potts #may parker #im back with another fic yall #silent lucidity #its a song about nightmares so uh #yeah

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