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watchyourbluesturngolden · 4 years ago

Note

Harry forget a special date night with his girl because his ex calls him. He don’t have feelinhs for his ex but he don’t wanna be rude so he answer and forget everything. After a week of silence he give his girl a big suprise to make everything alright

okkkkk this got really long on accident oops :) i wasn’t really sure how i wanted this to go, and i got slightly off track of your request? but i hope you like it!

make it up

warnings: angst, relationship fights

word count: 4k

You huffed in frustration, checking your phone for the tenth time tonight. You wanted to give Harry the benefit of the doubt, you really did. Maybe he was stuck in traffic. Maybe his producer had told him he absolutely had to stay late and finish some last minute work. Maybe he had gotten in an accident and his mangled car was laying at the bottom of a ravine somewhere. Maybe his phone had died.

The more excuses you tried to come up with, the more you realized what had really happened. He had forgotten. He had forgotten the date you had been planning together for weeks now, the one to celebrate the end of his tour. The one he had been talking about constantly, smiling about how excited he was to finally have you to himself for a few hours. Of course, he was incredibly grateful to his entire team and everyone who made his dreams reality, but sometimes he just wanted to sit down to a nice meal with you.

The two of you had barely had a second alone together since he got home a month ago. You had expected things to back to normal soon after he got home, but unfortunate that was far from what happened. You didn’t know there was so much for him to do after the tour was officially over. He still had to attend countless meetings with his team, discussing what things went well and what didn’t. He had to sit through hours and hours of interviews, answering questions that you really didn’t think were important. He just had to do so much; from how little you saw him, it felt like he was still halfway across the world.

The more minutes passed by, the more hope you lost. You had been fully dressed and ready, sitting at the kitchen table for over an hour now. He was supposed to be home at exactly 5, giving him enough time to get ready and make it to the 6:30 reservation at your favorite restaurant.

It was currently 6:10, and there was no sign of him. You had called him three times and sent at least 10 texts. This wasn’t like him. Even when he was busy, he always made time to shoot you a quick text to assure you he was okay and not ignoring you. But not tonight. Tonight, there was complete radio silence. Since Harry wasn’t answering, there was only one other person you knew to contact.

“Y/N, hi! Is everything ok?”

“Hi Sarah! Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“Well, Harry got a text during one of the meetings. Apparently it was urgent, because he rushed out of there right away. Didn’t even say what it was about. We thought it was you.”

“Uh- no, no I haven’t heard from him at all. When was this?”

“4:30.”

“Oh,” you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. So he wasn’t ignoring you because he was in a meeting; he hadn’t been in a meeting for almost two hours.

“Y/N, I’m sure there’s a good explanation,” Sarah comforted.

“Maybe,” you bit your lip. “But why is he ignoring me?”

“...I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe he’s not by his phone. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Y/N.”

“You’re probably right,” you sighed. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course, anytime. Text me when he gets in. He’s an idiot for leaving you out of things, but I still want to make sure he’s ok.”

“I know how you feel,” you smiled sadly. “I will. Goodnight.”

-----

“So, I think the biggest thing we need to figure out is the merchandise. Harry, if you could get a head start on picking colors, maybe thinking of designs? Or if you could-”

She was cut off by Harry’s phone dinging loudly. He sighed silently in relief, smiling apologetically as he pulled it out of his pocket. He had been trying to pay attention, he really had. He just couldn’t concentrate on anything. All he could thing about was how he would be home soon, kissing the love of his life and finally having some time together with you. He could tell his absence had been hard on you, even though you tried to convince him you were ok. He knew it hadn’t been easy for you, because it had been absolute torture for him. He loved touring, he truly did. He loved the adrenaline rush of performing for thousands of people. He loved traveling; seeing new things and meeting ne people. He loved his job. But it was incredibly difficult to be away from you for so long. He hated not being able to hold you whenever he felt like it. He hated waking up alone in a different country every week. He hated only getting to see you for a few hours on a Skype call every week. He hated being in a different time zone, constantly playing phone tag and replying to messages hours after they had been sent.

So, when his phone went off, he reached for it quickly, hoping to see a text from you. He was unpleasantly surprised.

Lucille: We need to talk

Harry frowned. He hadn’t heard from his ex girlfriend in almost a year, since before he met you. They had broken up even before that, but they had remained friends. He quickly texted back.

Harry: Is everything ok?

Lucille: it’s urgent. Meet met at the coffee shop?

Harry knew exactly what place she was referring to. The quaint little shop had been their favorite place when they were together. It was fairly secluded from the street and not well known, so Harry wouldn’t be hounded by fans and paparazzi.

Harry: I’m in a meeting, and I’m not free tonight. Are you ok?

Lucille: it’s an emergency. Please come right now.

Harry’s eyes went wide. He didn’t still have feelings for her, but she was a friend. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he would feel awful if something bad happened and he had refused to help.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Mitch spoke.

“Harry, what happened? Is it Y/N?”

“Uh- I have to go,” Harry said, abruptly standing up and leaving the room.

-----

“Lucille?” He asked, looking around the little shop.

“Harry, I’m so glad you came,” she smiled up at him from their table in the back corner. He made his way over to her, concern on his face.

“Did something happen? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I just... I need to talk to you.”

“Lucille, why would you do that? I thought something horrible happened,” Harry sighed, sitting in the seat across from her.

“I didn’t think you’d come if you weren’t worried,” she explained, stirring her coffee.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She had always been dramatic, and not in a good way.

“What is it then? Why do you need to talk to me?”

She didn’t respond, she just pushed the second coffee cup toward him.

“It’s your favorite,” she smiled.

“Thanks,” he took a small sip, grimacing slightly. His taste had changed since he met you. He couldn’t stand black coffee anymore. He reached for a sugar packet, ignoring the shocked look on her face as he mixed it into the dark liquid.

“Really, Lucille, why am I here?”

She sighed, setting down the stir stick.

“I think you know why.”

“I really don’t,” he said sincerely, looking up from his cup. “You said it was an emergency, but you seem completely fine.”

“I’m not fine, Harry. I’m in love.”

“That’s good!” he said, completely misunderstanding the look on her face. “I’m glad you’ve found someone.”

“No, Harry,” she sighed. “I’m in love... with you.”

He drew back, slightly shocked at her words. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I’m still in love with you, and I think you love me too.”

“Lucille-“

She cut him off. “No, Harry listen. Why would you come here if you weren’t? Why would you drop everything, leave a meeting, and come to a random coffee shop to meet me? You said you weren’t free tonight, but here you are.”

“Because you’re my friend!” He exclaimed. “You said it was an emergency, I couldn’t just ignore you. But I’m with Y/N, and we are very happy together. Speaking of her...”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, wincing when he saw the time.

5:37. Y/N’s going to kill me.

“Lucille, I have to go. I was supposed to be home at 5.” He stood up, ready to rush home. He felt terrible for being late and he prayed he would be able to move their reservation back an hour or two.

“Oh, so she’s that controlling?” She asked, her voice laced with condescension.

“No,” he quickly shut her down. “We have plans tonight.”

Her face fell and she looked crushed. “Please don’t leave.”

“Lucille-“

“Please,” her voice lowered to a whisper and she looked like she was about to cry. He sighed, sinking back into his seat.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to love me,” she looked quickly with tears on her face. “Like you used to.”

“I’m sorry, Lucille. We broke up. We aren’t together anymore. I’m with Y/N now,” he repeated his sentence from earlier. He pulled out his phone again, ready to text Y/N that he would be a few minutes late. He knew she would be upset, but at least she would know he was okay. His plan was wrecked, however, when his phone didn’t light up immediately. He tried again, jaw clenching when he realized it was dead.

“Ok, I really have to go. I can’t text Y/N to let her know I’m okay, so she’ll be worried.”

“Don’t!” She cried out, getting the attention of the few others in the shop. “She’s not as good as me. She doesn’t love you like I do! I’m better than her.”

Harry took a deep breath, trying very hard to stay calm. “Don’t speak about her like that.”

“It’s true! We were so good together, Harry, don’t you remember?” She leaned forward, grasping his hand in hers. “Don’t you want that back?”

“No,” he pulled away. “I don’t. I love Y/N. I’m sorry if that upsets you, but it’s the truth, and I have to go.”

She grabbed him again, her sad face turning angry. “You will regret leaving me, Harry. I know all your secrets. I can spill things that will ruin you.”

“What, you’re blackmailing me into breaking up with Y/N?”

“Yes,” she said smugly.

“Fine. Do it. I don’t care.”

Her face fell. “What do you mean?”

“Ruin my reputation. I have Y/N, someone who loves me for who I really am, and not what the press is saying about me. That’s something you two don’t have in common. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he stood up, her hand falling away. “I have somewhere to be.”

-----

You had given up. You had changed out of your dress and into your pajamas. You were sitting on the couch, holding a book that you weren’t really reading. You were just waiting for Harry to come back. He better have a really good explanation.

Just then, you heard his key in the lock of the door. You sat up straighter, not taking your eyes off the book. You didn’t respond when you heard him call your name. You kept your head down, eyes glued to the book.

“Y/N,” he said, cautiously walking toward you. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re alive, then?” You said quietly, not looking at him.

“I’m sorry-”

You didn’t let him finish. You stood up, still not looking at him as you walked out of the room. He followed you as you made your way up the stairs and to the guest room.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“I’m sleeping in here tonight,” you said, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind you.

You heard a quiet knock on the door before his voice came again. “Please open the door.”

“Just leave me alone, Harry,” you said, pulling back the covers and climbing into the bed.

You hadn’t locked the door, but you realize you probably should have when you heard it softly click open.

“Go away,” you sighed, laying on your side and facing away from him.

“Please let me explain,” he said, sounding desperate.

“Not right now.”

“Y/N, just-”

“Harry,” you said harshly, cutting him off. “Please. Leave me alone.”

-----

The next few days were very unpleasant. You refused to speak more than three words to Harry. It was all one word answers and leaving the room as soon as he walked in.

You wouldn’t even stay in your bed with him at night. He had tried pulling you into your shared room, begging because “I can’t sleep without you.” You refused, pulling away from him and locking yourself in the guest room. Then he had tried following you in there, looking devastated when you pushed him out.

Finally, Harry had had enough. He couldn’t handle not being able to talk to the love of his life. He needed to talk to you. He needed to tell you all the minuscule details of his day, from what flavor muffin he had for breakfast to what color shoes Mitch had worn that day. He needed to hug you and kiss you and ask you what you wanted for dinner. Most of all, he needed to sleep next to you. He couldn’t take this anymore. He had to take Benadryl every night because he literally could not fall asleep without you.

He knew what he had to do. It’s not like this was some last minute thing, either. He had been planning this for months, since before he left for his tour. There was just a lot of finalizing to do before he could show you. He couldn’t wait anymore, though, so he picked up his phone and called his real estate agent.

-----

Harry followed you into the guest room before you could manage to shut the door behind you.

“Get out,” you said, not looking at him.

“No.”

This made you look up. So far, he had completely respected your wish for privacy, but apparently not anymore.

“Fine, then stay in here, but I’m leaving,” you went back to the door, but he grabbed your wrist before you could open it. You turned around, yanking your arm out of his grasp.

“What do you want?” You asked in frustration.

“I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t think there’s much to say, Harry. You forgot. You were excited- I was excited for this dinner, we were planning it for weeks. Then you forgot. You came home three hours late and you didn’t even let me know if you were ok. You could have been hurt or something, and I wouldn’t have known!”

“My phone died!” He defended himself.

“You could have used someone else’s! Where were you anyways?”

“I was with Lucille,” he said, looking very guilty.

“Oh, lovely! You stood me up to hang out with your ex. That’s just great.”

“That’s not what happened! Will you just let me explain?”

“Fine,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I- I have to show you something first.”

Your face twisted in confusion. “What is it?”

“Uh- you have to come with me.”

“No, Harry. Tell me.”

“I can’t,” he said sincerely. “It’s- please trust me, and come with me.”

“Trust you? What reason have you given me to trust you?”

“Y/N, please.”

“Alright,” you sighed. “Where is it?”

“We have to drive there.”

“Harry, it’s ten o’clock at night. I’m not going anywhere right now.” You narrowed your eyes. “You just want to get me in the car so I can’t walk away!”

“No- well, that’s an added bonus, but I promise, I really do have a place to show you.”

You rolled your eyes, dropping your arms back to your sides. “Fine. Do I need to get dressed?”

“No, you’re totally fine,” he promised, looking down at his hoodie you were wearing. Even when you were completely pissed at him, you still wore his clothes. This brought a small smile to his face.

“Come on,” he held out his hand, not wanting to make the first move and upset you. You hesitantly took it, allowing him to lead you out of the house and into the car.

-----

You pulled up in front of the nicest house you had ever seen. The front was illuminated with lanterns and there was a large stone fountain capturing your attention.

“Where are we?” You asked, your confusion momentarily covering your anger.

“Come on,” he ignored your question, climbing out of the car and coming around to open your door. He helped you out, not letting go of your hand when you stood up straight. He walked you closer, an excited smile lighting up his face.

“Harry, seriously, what are we doing here?”

He still didn’t answer. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a key. Your eyes went wide as you began to understand what was going on.

He swung the door open, pulling you inside. You squinted, trying to see where you were as your eyes tried to adjust to the sudden darkness.

His hand found the light switch, flicking it on and washing both of you in the glow of the huge chandelier. You turned to him, your eyes still wide.

“Harry... what did you do?”

Suddenly he looked very shy. He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as he looked around the huge room.

“I... kind of... bought a house.”

“You did what?” You sputtered. “You bought this house?”

“I did,” he smiled.

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you buy a house just so I won’t be mad at you anymore? Because if you did, that was the stupidest-“

“No!” He cut you off. “No, that’s not why. I’ve been looking for a long time. A really long time. I’ve had my eye on this one for a few months now, I just figured... this could help me make it up to you.”

You were silent for a few seconds, staring into his eyes. He held his breath, not knowing what was going through your head.

“Are you crazy?”

“A little,” he laughed. “Are you... are you mad? About the house?”

“No,” your face softened when you saw how nervous he looked. “I’m not.”

“That’s good,” he blew out a big breath in relief. “Because it’s, like, 100% ours now. Not much I could’ve done if you were mad about it.”

“Which is why,” you smacked his shoulder. “You’re supposed to house shop with the person you’re going to be living with.”

“I know, everything’s just been so crazy lately. I knew you were stressed and I didn’t want to make anything worse.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” you said, stepping closer to him. You hesitantly brought your arms up to wrap around him.

He seemed just as hesitant as you. He hovered his arms above your back, not sure where to put them. You pressed your face into his chest, inhaling his cologne and pressing against him. You hadn’t hugged him in so long. When he felt you relax, he finally put his arms down and hugged you back.

When you finally pulled away, there were tears in your eyes. His face became concerned again, bringing up his hand to wipe his thumb along your waterline.

“Why are you crying?” He asked softly, keeping one arm latched around you like he was scared you would run away.

“Because I’ve been awful to you the past couple of days. I shouldn’t have been so mad in the first place, I should have just listened to you and let you-“

“Wait a minute,” he cut you off. “You had every right to be angry. I promised you I would be home on time. Then I wasn’t, and I didn’t let you know. I was in the wrong here.”

“Maybe, but you didn’t deserve to be treated like I treated you. I never even let you explain where you were.”

“Do you want me to?” He asked.

“If you want to,” you exhaled shakily, trying to contain your tears.

“Like I said before, I was with Lucille- which I know sounds really bad, but just let me explain, yeah?”

You nodded, pulling away and taking his hand. You brought him over to one of the couches in the living room, pushing him gently to sit with his back against the armrest. His legs splayed out across the cushions, and you settled between them with your back against his chest. You leaned your head back, soothed by his rhythmic breathing.

“I was in a meeting and I was bored out of my mind. I got a text and I thought it was you, so I checked it. But it wasn’t you, it was Lucille. She said it was urgent , she needed to see me right then. I told her I couldn’t because I was busy but she kept saying it was an emergency. I didn’t think I could just ignore her, because what if something terrible happened? So I left the meeting and went to the coffee shop. She told me...”

You looked up at his face when he stopped talking. “She told you what?”

“She... said she loves me,” he explained, looking upset. “She freaked out, told me she “knew I loved her too” and that “we could be together again”.

“What... what did you say?” You asked, your voice a little shaky. You knew Harry loved you, but he had been with Lucille for over a year. It didn’t help knowing that Lucille was a beautiful model.

“I told her I was in love with you,” he said quickly, seeing the panic on your face. “I reminded her that she and I broke up a long time ago, and that I’m with you now.”

You relaxed a little, leaning against him again. “Bet she loved hearing that.”

“Oh yeah,” he laughed. “She actually tried to blackmail me into leaving you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she said if I don’t leave you she’ll spill all my secrets and ruin my reputation.”

“What are you going to do?” You asked worriedly, sitting up to look at him.

“Nothing,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean nothing? Harry, you dated for over a year! What does she have against you?”

“Honestly, not much that I know of. I don’t exactly have any deep dark secrets,” he smiled.

“I guess,” you bit your lip. “Still.”

“Well, what would you suggest I do?” He joked. “Sue her?”

“Maybe, yeah. Defamation and all that.”

“Oh, definitely, I think that’s the way to go.”

“Absolutely,” you laughed, before a serious look came over your face again. “I’m really sorry.”

“No, don’t-“

“Listen to me,” you said, looking into his eyes. “I was wrong to treat you so badly. You didn’t deserve that and I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Will you forgive me?”

“Of course,” you leaned against him again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Let’s never fight again, ok?”

“Ok,” he smiled. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve not been sleeping at all the past three nights, and I’m about ready to collapse. This house is fully furnished. What do you say we go find our bed?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

#harry styles #harry fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x you fanfiction #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harry styles/you fanfiction

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years ago

Text

[Open Your Mouth] Chapter 4 - R

See previous chapters here: AO3 | Tumblr

Summary: Or maybe it was just the first time she was treated like she had an agency. The gestures for permission, the unspoken questions of consent, the way he wouldn’t touch her first or grab her or mar her skin even when they were having sex. Most men would have their true natures revealed once shown the great pussy. But there he was, always cradling her like she was porcelain china. Not that she minded. It was a breath of fresh air to be held like that, in gentle caresses and soft whispers that beg to betray his true feelings at any given second. It was madness not to be consumed by it, but it was tragedy that she only knew of this reality just now.

-xxxxxxx-

April 20, 2021, 11:16 PM

“Still in questioning for two weeks,” Sasuke grits through his phone. “And they didn’t allow him to post bail?”

“Akugawa’s attorneys tried to appeal this week but it’s a no go. Doesn’t help that he’s brought to a different district so it’s completely out of our jurisdiction,” Neji replies. “Have you heard from Jugo?”

“Just a text message saying they lied to him and told him the directive was from Asuma.” Sasuke lets his fingers run through his hair, too frustrated to think straight this evening. “All they have against Akugawa are purely circumstantial. This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but the media ruckus is hungry for the gay serial killer angle. Well, I gotta go Uchiha.”

“Have fun. It’s your wedding anniversary tonight, isn’t it?”

“Shut up. Aren’t you with a woman yourself?” The call ends.

Rid of distractions, he is now at liberty to gaze freely at the rosette reading a book beside him. She gives him a smile and ditches the book to trace lazy circles on his chest. The lunch break meetings have become too short for the both of them thus the need for dinners and coffee. He didn’t plan on making a move, not when there is still an active case, but she’s enthralling in a sense. It’s her presence that pulls him into her orbit – or maybe it’s the pink hair and the emerald eyes that make it difficult to look away.

When he almost hailed her a cab for their fifth dinner, she grabbed his arm and slowly pulled it down to her side, intertwining her fingers with his. It was the first time he held her hand.

With a flushed face under the dim city lights, she asked him, “I would like it if you take me home with you.”

And even after arriving in his flat, he hesitated to kiss her. Only when she brought his fingers to her lips did he move, suddenly gripped with a drive to gently coax her into pleasure. She undressed for him in the dark, already wet and pulsating for his touch, his kisses, and he let the jasmine perfume perforate his senses. He was careful not to leave marks of his trail – after all, it might just be the last as it could be the first – and regrets were felt stronger when there were remainders.

The first time was followed by a second, and she posed a question. “Why are you so gentle with me?”

He looked at her face and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, the color of his dreams. “I’m afraid you’ll break.”

She took his hand and slapped it on her perky breasts. “Try and break me then.”

Where he wavered, she asserted – her nails leaving scratches on his back, bruising his lips, marking his neck, and pulling his hair – but she did it so beautifully that he basked in pain as she yelled his name in ecstatic throes.

He pulls away from reminiscing when the lazy circles start to draw lower. He softly takes her dainty wrist and places an open-mouthed kiss where her pulse is.

“I take it your team is still prohibited from pursuing other leads?” Sakura gasps.

Sasuke shakes his head. “Both chiefs had to save face, particularly when the district attorney got the call first, then the media, and we were the last to know. But it’s more of a pro-forma. My guts don’t tell me they’re still out there.”

“You don’t believe it’s him?”

“He perfectly fits Yamato’s profile. Had several sexual relations with married CEOs, naively accepted promises of secured futures, let down just as quickly as he has been picked up.”

Sakura climbs on top of him and starts to grind on his hardened member. “Too bad. Akugawa is a nice colleague. I was the one who encouraged him to enroll in those meditation classes.”

One arm wraps around her waist to keep her steady while the other tugs away the sheet that comes in between their moist flesh. He brings her breasts closer to his tongue, his words lapping against her skin. “Oh you must be good in yoga too.”

“I’m flexible like that, Detective.” She slips his cock insider her ready core, and the fitting sensation makes the both of them shiver.

“What other things are you good at, Dr, Haruno?”

She locks eyes with him and words are lost as they start to find rhythm in their thrusts.

-xxxxxxx-

April 25, 2021, 6:27 AM

“I take it they’re gonna name you as the director for the overseas expansion.” He asks as soon as they step out of her penthouse.

He didn’t expect to step foot in her domain; he knew it was how the elites operate, but maybe she waited for the sixth date to test him. He couldn’t deny how he was intimidated by her biometrics door, the large cctv panels on her foyer, and her voice-automated house system, but it fascinated him to see the bleak contrast of her plant-filled space against the extravagant automations and sharp marble floor.

“I’m not quite sure.” She angles her eyes on the retina scanner, and the security system beeps to life. The whole floor will be inaccessible even to the administration until she comes home. “Either way, it’s gonna be a success for the Senju-Haruno corporation and its shareholders.”

“Shouldn’t they give you bodyguards then?”

Her fingers ease in into his waiting hand. “I have a detective for a lover. I’ll be fine.”

He leaves soft kisses on her knuckles. “Can’t your lover be worried?”

“I don’t think they’ll come after me. I’m a woman, remember?”

6:41 AM

“Sorry to delay your trip to the office. I’ll just check the ravine again.” They hazard park on the side of the forest. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Sakura nods with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll stretch my legs out for a bit, but I really wouldn’t want to wander. I don’t know the area quite well.”

He hops off the car, unaware that a nondescript black sedan stopped a few meters away from their spot. Sasuke traverses the wide trunks and mossy forest floor until he finds the exact dumping spot – a clump of thorny bristles and rue hedges. His eyes survey the surroundings and notices a disturbed, rather steep area above the ravine, a tricky slope which cannot be possible for someone like Akugawa. With his built, he would have skidded down when he dumped the body. It had to be someone petite.

Light footfalls behind him. Sasuke glances at the sound, his hand ready to pull out his gun.

“Sorry I followed you. I’m kinda jumpy.” Sakura waves at him from above the slope, her silhouette prominent against the morning backlight.

Then his eyes register another bigger, taller, heavier silhouette behind her.

“Sakura!”

Gunshots miss Sasuke by a breadth, but he doesn’t miss how the hooded figure clamps a hand over Sakura’s mouth and drag her away into the forest. He scrambles up and follows their trail, cursing his ineptness.

His breaths are louder than the wakening birds and traffic on the roadside, and his feet feel more like lead for every tree that leads him deeper into the forest. Then he hears two consecutive shots, and he feels all of his sensory motors go into overload.

Sasuke’s feet direct him to the sound. When the vines give way to a clearing, the first thing he sees is her disheveled rose hair, pulled apart from her high bun, tousled like an unkempt mane on her back.

And a dead man on the forest floor, a gunshot to the head, and another on his side.

She was trembling, eyes wide, clenched teeth, and closed fists. Giving her time to adjust to the events, he goes first to the perpetrator and lowers the hoodie. It’s one of the Mingwa private cronies, probably following him to make sure he isn’t doing independent investigations. But since they touched a Haruno-Senju heir, the corporate publicity will angle this as harassment and attempted assault while the private faction will absolve their hands of any involvement. He calls Kakashi and Asuma for help.

After which, he glances at her, and she finally blinks out of daze. She slumps against him as soon as he’s near, and the reverberations of her body immediately hit him.

“I’m sorry,” he says even though he has a lot of questions.

“He slipped and I went for the gun,” she whispers shakily against his shirt.

Yet he still wonders why there were two shots when one to the head could have sufficed, especially with unfamiliar hands. Or how she’s able to take down a man that size with her dainty wrists.

“I’ll call in sick today. Bring me home?”

He tightens his hug before he lets her go then he realizes he’s not familiar with the terrain.

She tugs on his coat and starts to walk. “If we cut across here, we’ll see the road in five minutes.”

-xxxxxxx-

May 5, 2021, 10:22 AM

“Did Dr. Haruno come back okay?” Kakashi sits down across Sasuke’s desk and fidgets with his unused pens. Even though the investigation was halted, his room remains littered with manila papers, bulletins, and notes on the white board. The necessity to preserve becomes apparent when they receive news of Akugawa posting bail this morning.

Sasuke nods in response. “She still went through with her trip to Belgium last April 28. I don’t know when she’ll be back, but I’m not privy to her internal emotions so it’s not my place to say she’s okay.”

“About time they gave her bodyguards.” The chief detective taps an unlit cigarette stick on his desk. “It’s great seeing you like this.”

“This what?”

“Happy?”

Sasuke clucks his tongue. “It’s not official. She just might be in it for the thrills.”

Kakashi smirks and lights up his stick. “Sex must be great then.”

“Get out, Hatake.”

A rap on the door catches both of their attention. Yamato comes in followed by Asuma, Tenten, Jugo, and Neji.

“There’s a fourth body in the same ravine. Body is now with the ME. Estimated time of death is enough for Akugawa to file for several cases. It’s gonna be a media bloodbath,” Asuma says.

As the lot file out of the office, Kakashi pulls Sasuke to fall behind a bit. “Trust no one, Uchiha.”

11:45 AM

There’s something off-putting about the smell.

This body does not follow the two-week gap; the ME estimated the date of his death on April 27. This slight change in MO presents the possibility of a copycat, but other than that, all injuries are the same – a stab in the carotid, teeth pulled out, arms and feet cut, genital missing – which means another thing, the killer slipped somehow and they’re on a rush. For what, they don’t know.

“Ando Suzuki, CEO of Suzuki Airlines for Japan,” Asuma states his name for confirmation. “Let’s do our usual. It’s time we ramp up our progress, Uchiha.”

Sasuke ignores the pointed insinuation and steps closer to the corpse. It didn’t rain last week despite the forecasts so the state of the body is more or less preserved. He brings his nose closer to the neck, right where the murder tool punctured the artery.

“Sasuke, what are you doing?” Tenten asks. “Forensics have close up shots for that.”

“It’s the smell.”

“Like decomposers and rotting flesh?” Jugo scoffs.

“Is it possible that they might have tried to remove him?” Sasuke asks the ME who quickly goes to him and helps him turn the corpse on its side.

They see fresh scar on the pricked wounds, like someone tried to drag them out of the ravine. As if they knew the position would give them away this time. The smell hits him strongly when the ME returns the corpse to a prone position, and Sasuke almost vomits when he recognizes it.

It can’t be. In controlled breaths, he steps away from the examining table and slumps against the wall. Kakashi notices but pretends not to. It’s Tenten who slithers beside him inconspicuously and taps on his arm. She raises a brow which he responds to with a cluck of his tongue.

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts. “Why can’t it be a woman?”

“If you can recreate a position of a woman stabbing the artery without defense wounds, let me know,” Yamato says with a cold smile. It’s meant to shut Tenten up; he doesn’t like his profiles being challenged. “And the smell you’re talking about Sasuke? It’s jasmine. The area probably has blooms.”

2:30 PM

“Something’s weird with Uchiha,” Neji pulls out his badge, ready to present it to the landfill. They’re revisiting dumping sites again for a second go-through. The killer is starting to leave breadcrumbs all over the place. “Did you see how pale his face went earlier?”

“Jasmine and rotting flesh don’t make good perfume,” Tenten figures. The guard sees their badges and gestures for them to come inside.

There’s a peculiar batch of scavengers in the area, people who aren’t part of junkshops or associations, just individual peddlers. A bald man in his 70s glances their way and starts to move towards their directions with only one foot and crutches for the other.

“Police?” He has a putrid gummy smile. “That lad didn’t come here again.”

Neji tugs Tenten away, but his wife stays rooted to the spot. “A lad?”

The old man opens his palm.

“He just wants money, dear,” Neji grumbles. “Let’s go now and talk to the real rational people.”

Tenten pulls out her wallet and sticks a wad of one dollar bills on the man’s hand. “A lad?” She repeats.

“Thought it was our fellow. We have young ones with us, you know, like your age but definitely shorter in height. He comes in dressed in a black raincoat and plastic boots, dragging bulky garbage bags like they’re not heavy at all.” His smile gets bigger by the count of the bills.

“Did you get a good look at this man?” Tenten asks, still unwilling to let go.

“Tenten,” Neji warns.

“This might be our lead. A concrete lead for once.”

“Wind knocked his garbage of a hood one time. Shiny bald head says hi.”

Neji is at the end of his wits. “Dear, you’re not even sure if he’s talking about our guy.”

Tenten sticks a 10-dollar bill on the old man’s almost torn shirt pocket. He proceeds with a guttural laugh, the phlegm oozing through each gasping breath. “He always dumps those bags on a full moon.”

4:30 PM

Sasuke sneaked in earlier to the administration office just before the receptionist’s desk came into view. With slight intimidation into play, he managed to get duplicate recordings of the cctv of the whole floor.

He taps Kakashi for help and another IT staff.

“Looks normal to me,” the silver-haired man remarks. “Why are you snooping on your girlfriend?”

“All of them were her patients at one point,” Sasuke replies. “And we don’t do labels.”

“But their visits were nowhere near their kill dates.”

“Their visits were logged as emergency procedures because Akugawa or their company doctor wasn’t available. So why?”

Kakashi smirks. “Are you insinuating they were there to get a glimpse of her? The recluse medical corporation heir. Nothings amiss in the recordings, right? No sexual body language?”

Sasuke hopes the same, but the lurch in his guts tells him otherwise. He swallows whatever saliva that hasn’t dried yet in his mouth in anticipation of the inevitable.

“The recordings are fine. She’s always accompanied by her assistant when she has clients,” the IT replies. “It’s the code that bothers me. You see, a malware is playing with it, looping the same frames while continuing the time ticks. Either someone knows their technology or this is a complete human error.”

-xxxxxxx-

May 7, 2021, 12:01 PM

“Oh, it’s you,” Laura says nonchalantly, never glancing up from her keyboard, and click-clacking away even though it’s already lunch break. “She’ll be out in a minute.”

“Do you know how to code?” He doesn’t spare her a glance either, his eyes trained on the door.

“Is this a side job? I can get Shin if you’d like. He fixes the systems here when he has time. He’s a computer geek before he settled for dentistry.” She stops typing and eyes her wristwatch. “She’s here.”

True enough, the door opens just as Laura tells him. She wears her rose hair loose today, falling like waves against her tucked in white long sleeve polo and denim jeans. She spots him after she gives her white coat to her waiting assistant.

Smile, wave, and unhurried walk to reach him. “A lunch break?”

“Wondering if you were still alive after your trip.” The jasmine in the air transports him to two different scenes, his memory being stretched out in two drastic dimensions, one where she’s writhing beneath him and one where he sees the corpse falling on top of him. The scents mix, and he fails to cover up his gag. Both women look at him with brows raised but he waves them off with his handkerchief.

“Days of absence and your heart grows fonder. That saying is true after all.” She places a hand on his cheek and softly taps it. “A sandwich?”

“I’m starving.”

“Two sandwiches then.”

8:19 PM

She invited him for dinner while they were munching on half-dozen random sandwiches from Subway. He didn’t talk about the case nor did he question her radio silence since her Belgium business trip. This was why she genuinely liked Detective Uchiha Sasuke.

Or maybe it was just the first time she was treated like she had an agency. The gestures for permission, the unspoken questions of consent, the way he wouldn’t touch her first or grab her or mar her skin even when they were having sex. Most men would have their true natures revealed once shown the great pussy. But there he was, always cradling her like she was porcelain china. Not that she minded. It was a breath of fresh air to be held like that, in gentle caresses and soft whispers that beg to betray his true feelings at any given second. It was madness not to be consumed by it, but it was tragedy that she only knew of this reality just now.

She knew he had an inkling. She messed up in the forest. If she had the luxury of time, she would have dismembered the man who grabbed her. A stab from a scalpel was a merciful way to go, and that man didn’t deserve it. Filthy hands.

The anger rushes to the surface, and she stabs the roasted meat rather too loudly.

“Is your meat still alive?” He emerges in her dining room and continues to look around. “Your wooden mansion is a far cry from your depersonalized penthouse.”

She laughs as she strains the cooked pasta. “I like having two personalities.” He must have triangulated by now that the location of this mansion is smacked in the center of the dump sites, a safe, close distance to the landfills, the forest, and even the meditation place. He must have seen the black pick-up truck on her garage, the one she uses for farming. She can see all the pieces fitting into a completed puzzle in his head, and she’s sad to let him go.

He opens the wine she placed on the counter, and he fills himself a glass. “You also have a crystal collection like Akugawa.”

“I gave him his first obsidian. Their healing properties are supposedly at maximum during full moon.” She places two plated bolognese pasta on the table and a wide platter of medium rare meat. “Dinner’s ready.”

“This looks good.” His tone is genuinely fascinated. “Didn’t know you could cook. We always dined in or ordered take out.”

“A change of pace, wouldn’t you think?” She also fills herself a glass of wine and watches in amusement as he takes a first bite of the meatballs she especially prepared for him.

“You should tell me where you source your meat. I’ll one up you in our next dinner.”

I’m too sad there won’t be a next one.

10:17 PM

Sakura changes position, and she’s on top of him, gyrating her hips in familiar pleasure. Sasuke wants to take it slow, to re-encounter her folds and curves after several days of not seeing her, despite his senses overriding in danger. He took her an hour ago, on her immaculate grainy wood counter, wine spilling on the sink as he thrusted into her unclothed core. She had gone commando, and this drove him insane. Maybe his lust is taking over him, clouding his judgment, muddling his perfect frame by frame memories, but he has to play this game. It’s only a matter of time.

He feels her insides throb in urgency, and he knows she’s near her orgasm. Her juices leak out, and he bucks against her wetness, releasing his load into her with eyes closed.

He waits for the scalpel to puncture his carotid, but nothing comes. “Sakura.”

She continues riding his limp member and rubbing her clit against his balls. A strategic distraction as they are coming down from a high. He expects her to trace lazy circles on his abdomen, a mannerism he picked up from their nights, but the dainty hands go to his neck instead.

He opens his eyes, and he sees a different Sakura. Her microexpressions are different, her eyes throwing daggers, soft pliant lips in hardened scowl, and hollowed cheeks.

“I don’t know what’s your issue with a scalpel, Sakura.” Her voice is different, the accent changed. “You must have fallen in love with him already. Such a frail human.”

“I wanted to prepare myself before I see him go. That is all.” Her face shifts and the emotions return to the Sakura he knows. He also notes the loosening grip on his neck, unaware that he is holding his breath.

Another shift and it’s back to the other Sakura. “She has such a saccharine charm effective in luring me to do things.” She smiles at him, but it’s not the smile he’s familiar with. “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna die yet.”

She chokes him with surprising strength. He places pressure on her wrists and elbows, but she doesn’t budge. His legs start to thrash out beneath him, and his sight starts to dim.

“Great work as always, sister. We’ve always wanted the truth about Madara, don’t we?”

#open your mouth #sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #pinkhairedlily #crime and mystery au #thriller au #fic!pinkhairedlily #fic!pseudolily

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sinsbymanka · 4 years ago

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Thank you @sunspott and @enigmalea. I’ve combined both your prompts and also added in a side of Josephine because I can. Enjoy your polyamorous, smutty Female Adaar/Josephine Montiliyet/Lace Harding prompt fill!

For @dadrunkwriting I present:

Title: Courting a Winning Bet

Chapter 1/1

Rated: E

Word Count: 2090

Pairing: Female Adaar/Josephine Montiliyet/Lace Harding

Additional Tags:

Summary: There’s a betting pool about whether or not the Inquisitor and her lover, Josephine, have a crush on Scout Harding. Lace is going to put a stop to this illegal gambling once and for all, but not in the way she thought she would.

Read on AO3

“I’m telling you, the flowers are just flowers.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Harding.”

Lace slammed her pint down on the bar and glared up into the one sparkling dark eye of the Iron Bull. Sure, maybe he had a couple feet on her, but she’d had some of the good stuff. She could take him, if she needed to.

Bull grinned wryly and shook his head. “So. Josephine sends you flowers and writes letters asking how you are. Boss brings you back any supply your little heart can dream up. They increased your hazard pay-”

“I earned that increase,” Lace protested, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Course you did,” Bull agreed, raising his own pint to his lips. “Doesn’t mean that they don’t have a crush on you, Harding.”

“They do not.”

“Chief’s right,” Krem said from her left, clapping a hand on her shoulder in solidarity. “Strange as it is to say.”

“Now now, Krempuff. Let’s talk about you and our lovely waitress this evening.”

“She’s only got eyes for your impressive, pillowy man bosoms.” Krem smirked. Lace sighed and jumped down from her barstool. The ground only moved a little.

“You’re wrong and I’m gonna prove it,” she stated, putting her hands on her hips. “Then I’m taking all that money from the betting pool and I’m going to buy you pants that don’t put my life at risk in the desert.”

Krem choked on his ale and Bull guffawed loudly before reaching over to slap his sputtering second on the back so hard, poor Krem was slammed right into the edge of the counter.

She turned on her heel and weaved through the crowd, but she caught Krem’s response just as she slipped out the tavern door.

“Chief, don’t you win if the Inquisitor makes a move tonight?”

As if the amazing, fearless, incredibly sexy Inquisitor and her adorable, kind, perfect girlfriend would ever, in their wildest dreams, make a move on Lace Harding.

The thought made her giggle as she tripped through the courtyard and up into the Great Hall. Varric looked up as she barged in. She pointed at him and he immediately threw his hands in the air in a silent plea for mercy. “Whatever the Seeker says, I’m not responsible. Swear on my chest hair.”

“The next time you go to step in varghest shit, I’m not stopping you.” She narrowed her eyes.

Varric didn’t even look contrite. He simply grinned. “Found out about the bet, Freckles?”

“Yes, and I’m putting a stop to it right now,” she declared, sailing past his table.

“Maybe best to wait until tomorrow!” Varric called after her.

“I’m not sodding waiting just cause you think you may win this bet if I wait until tomorrow,” she yelled back.

The only answer was his throaty chuckle. “Have it your way, then.”

She was going to. And it wasn’t that Lace was paying attention to the Inquisitor and her lover. Everybody knew that Issala Adaar liked to take her dinners in private with the Ambassador.

Lace had never spun a flower between her fingers and wondered what they talked about. Never dreamed of them exchanging tender kisses over imported chocolates and the expensive wine from Orlais.

She certainly had never pictured herself in the middle of them.

...okay, maybe she had. But just a little, and really, who could blame her? They were just… so beautiful. So perfect together. And it was honestly more than a little cruel for Varric and the rest to tease her for it.

When Issala and Josephine found out about it, they’d firmly put a stop to it. Then Lace could go back to her fantasies in peace.

She pushed in the door to the Ambassador’s office, fully prepared to interrupt their dinner, too tipsy to even consider knocking.

And… she really should have knocked. Because it looked like the Inquisitor and Josephine had foregone dinner entirely and moved straight to dessert.

Lace stood frozen in the hallway while both of the other women whipped around to stare at her. They were on the wide, plush rug in front of the fireplace. It was a good thing they were so close to the flickering flames, because there wasn’t a stitch of clothing between the two of them. All Lace could see was scarred, pearlescent gray skin and dusky brown curves.

Oh. Oh no. Was this a sin? Was the Maker going to strike her down? Possibly. Hopefully.

Issala’s violet eyes blinked once. Twice. She swung her startled gaze from Lace in the doorway to Josephine. For a moment they all stared at each other in bewildered, loaded silence.

“Scout Harding,” Josephine finally began as if she was greeting any Inquisition member in her full regalia instead of her naked glory. “Do come in and close the door. I fear it’s rather drafty this evening.”

Maybe this was the Fade. Lace didn’t belong in the Fade, of course, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Weird things happened all the time. And honestly it was far more likely than Lace stumbling into an intimate moment like this and not being turned into cinders immediately.

“Is something wrong?” Issala shrugged her long white hair over her shoulder, hiding the pert globes of her breasts, but somehow that didn’t help Lace feel less distracted.

“I just- I… there’s a bet. And I shouldn’t have come. This was stupid. Really stupid. I’m so sorry,” she babbled, unable to tear her eyes from the glorious figures bathed in firelight.

“A bet?” Issala echoed, mystified. Lace almost wailed.

“Yes! That you two have a crush on me. And I was coming here to tell you and make them stop because we’ve got better things to do than debate why you’re sending me flowers or bringing me Orlesian chocolates or…”

“Oh,” Josephine’s lips fell into a tiny, distressed frown. “Did you not like the chocolates?”

“No they were great-” Lace protested. “It’s just… they’re because you’re nice. You’re both so nice. And pretty. Really pretty.”

Maker, she should not have had that second drink.

But to her shock, Issala’s skin flushed delicate pink. “You… you think I’m pretty?”

It was Lace’s turn to blink once. Twice. “Of course you are. You both are.”

Issala tore her eyes from Lace to look at Josephine again. Something silent and swift passed between them before Josephine demurely nodded. When Issala looked back, her eyes were sparkling with joy.

“We… may have a crush on you,” Issala whispered softly. “I know it’s silly, but… you’re so cute. And fierce. And the way you shoot your bow…”

Lace was definitely in the Fade. This couldn’t be happening. But Issala’s long, toned arm reached out, fingers curved gently. “Join us?”

Well. If she was going to get smited by the Maker for lusting after the Herald, she may as well enjoy it, right?

The first step felt unsteady, but the second came more eagerly. The fourth put her in reach of Issala, close enough for her small fingers to tangle with hers. Since she was on the floor, they were almost the same height, and Issala took ruthless advantage immediately, slotting her mouth over Lace’s before she could protest.

It was nice. It was so nice. Issala’s lips were wind chapped, but her calloused palms cupped Lace’s cheek so gently as her tongue pressed for entrance. It was the easiest thing in the world to give in, to allow herself to be thoroughly explored. Her heart pulsed in her ears and she reached out to grab Issala’s shoulders at the same time a very warm, silky soft body pressed against her from behind.

Then Josephine’s gentle lips found her ear, her nose tracing the delicate shell as she pressed butterfly light kisses down her neck. Lace was trapped between them, helpless as they worked together to make her weak in the knees.

The moment Issala released her lips, Josephine tipped her chin over Lace’s shoulder to demand a kiss of her own. She was so much softer than Issala, but there was a fierce passion in this kiss. One that threatened to ignite all the longing inside Lace and burn them all alive.

Somehow, her pants had vanished. Along with her boots. Issala’s palms were searing on her thighs as she slowly bunched up her shirt beneath her hands. Then she paused, suddenly disoriented.

“Lace…” she whispered, running her thumb over the long, jagged scar slashing over her abdomen. “How did you get this?”

Josephine released her lips and Lace panted for breath desperately. “Oh, um. Crazy story. There was a sheep and it got away from the flock and I chased it down, but there was a ravine and I fell in and… well, mother said I was lucky I didn’t bleed out before the healer got there. But I had to find the sheep.”

Issala’s smile couldn’t be more tender. She leaned in and placed one sweet kiss on the tip of Lace’s nose. “You always find what we’re looking for.”

“And we were looking for you,” Josephine murmured in her ear, helping Issala pull the shirt over her head. It was Josephine that made short work of the complicated undergarment beneath, leaving her bare before Issala’s gaze.

Josephine’s hands ran over her curves, a gentle exploration while her lips kissed the thousands of freckles covering her shoulders. Each swipe of the long, elegant fingers over her delicate skin made her want to whimper. Then Josephine giggled and wrapped her arms tight around Lace’s waist, pressing another kiss to her neck. “I am so pleased you liked the flowers.”

“How could I resist?” Lace asked weakly. “You sure know how to spoil a girl.”

“It is only polite when courting!” Josephine protested. “I would not want you to think our intentions were not honorable.”

“Well, they’re maybe a little dishonorable,” Issala half-laughed. Lace giggled.

“Can I taste you?” Issala’s eyes were dark with want. “Please?”

Lace almost choked on her answer. “I mean. If you want.”

Josephine pulled her backwards into her arms, cupping her full breasts in her hands and pressing a soft kiss on her head. “Allow us. We will see to all your needs.”

As if that promise wasn’t enough to make her soaking wet, Issala chose that moment to trail more kisses up the inside of Lace’s thighs. Lace whimpered and rolled her hips eagerly, far beyond caring about looking needy.

She was needy. She needed more.

Josephine’s fingertips brushed over her nipples just as Issala’s breath ghosted over her core. Lace has a moment to feel embarrassed before Issala swears softly. “You’re so beautiful, Lace. I knew you would be.”

Before she could deny it, and Lace certainly meant to, Issala’s pointed tongue slid along her folds and she could do nothing but moan helplessly and try to hold onto Josephine’s plush thighs.

Josephine soothed her softly while Issala teased her, sampling her arousal and exploring her most secret places. She melted back into Josephine’s embrace when Issala finally slipped her tongue between her folds to explore her core.

And then Josephine pinched her nipples lightly and Lace almost shrieked. Her hips stuttered upwards and Issala giggled, removing her tongue to slide up to the little bundle of nerves that ached to be touched.

But Maker help her, she’d never been touched like this. Between Josephine’s tormenting, clever fingers (she never knew they’d be so talented with more than quills) and Issala’s deft tongue (the Inquisitor had always seemed too quiet), she was a mess in moments. And yet Issala continued to ravish her, savor her like those fancy chocolates they all loved. Josephine kept whispering soft, musical words of endearment in her ear and playing her body like an instrument.

Then Issala’s fingers slipped inside her fluttering core and Lace’s moans could probably be heard the whole way to the Western Approach. She rocked into the touch, greedy and desperate. Josephine allowed her, encouraged her, and Issala’s tongue swirled just right.

Lace screamed both their names as she crested the wave of the most powerful orgasm she’d ever had, riding out the sharp jerks of her body while Issala hummed her satisfaction and Josephine held her tightly.

When Issala looked up, her lips were shiny with slick and it made Lace’s stomach roll with anticipation.

“It is my turn now, yes?” Josephine asked in her ear. Lace grinned from ear to ear.

The only issue, really, was that Bull was going to win that bet after all.

#dadrunkwriting #dragon age #lemon #shameless smut #dragon age inquisition #femslash february #femslash fridays #josephine montilyet #female adaar #lace harding #female adaar/josephine montilyet #female adaar/josephine montilyet/lace harding

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capnjay21 · 4 years ago

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The Wind Blows White 1/6

It’s been two years since Killian Jones and Emma Swan managed to escape the clutches of Brooke House, two years of waiting for it all to catch up to them and two years of pretending the cracks in their happy ending don’t show. But when the vision appears to Killian of a young boy unearthing the dagger and the darkness they had long since buried, it’s a race against time to try and stop another innocent from befalling the same fate. If they have the strength to face it.

Sequel to ‘A House is Never Still’.

A/N: Here it is, happy (slightly early) Halloween everyone! :D Confession time, I’ve actually been kinda nervous about posting this for a little while? Fretting over whether this one won’t be as good or scary as the original - but I am officially making a concerted effort not to care about any of that, because this is how the next part of the story goes and I’m excited to tell it! I hope you guys like it <3

***Editing to include the AMAZING art done by the lovely @hollyethecurious - I love it so much and I’m so excited by it. And for those that don’t know, she created the art that inspired the original fic so this is EXTRA cool!

Updates will probs be every other week to allow me to stay ahead. If it’s any consolation, they’re usually over 10k words, oof! Enjoy!

AO3

Rating: T Warnings: Mentions of canonical character death and some certified Spooky Business™.

Taglist: @carpedzem @optomisticgirl @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @phiralovesloki @hollyethecurious @stahlop @peglegsjones @mariakov81 @seasailia @courtorderedcake @jonesfandomfanatic @wyntereyez @mrtinski @thisonesatellite @klynn-stormz @teamhook

If anyone would like on, or off, the taglist, just let me know!

-/-

1. i won’t die in my sleep.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

The whispers woke her, as the whispers always did.

It took her a few dizzying moments to emerge completely from sleep, the vivid and fraught images of her restless dreaming spilling out into the darkness of the room. As usual, she could not move. Her muscles had seized, curled tightly around her stomach like a clenched fist, trembling with strain while her eyes blinked out into the dark. She could see the forest. The broad, sweeping trunks of old red oaks sprawled from the ground upward, their leaves stained crimson by blood while their bark wept tears the colour of potted ink. Only once observed did she really consider that there was so little in nature truly black, as pus the same shade as crows dribbled and oozed down the spines of every oak she could see.

Slowly, the numbness receded from her aching limbs, the reckless smears of her wakeless mind gave way to the shapes her eyes could make out, could confirm as being there, and like a prayer she whispered aloud every object she could see and smell and know was real.

“Chair,” she croaked, “desk. Lamp. Computer. Window. Gold –”

No. No gold. The basket of spun gold twine was the final little spill, tempting her to return to a nightmare it could kiss back into a dream.

She refused.

It disappeared.

The whispers had woken her, but once she rose she was alone in the dark.

Emma patted the bed beside her, and found the sheets bare and cool. He had been gone for some time already, then. Trying to suppress the growing tide of unease that always came from waking alone, she stood slowly, then stretched out her sore muscles. Sore from being clenched so tightly for what felt like hours. Usually Killian woke her before it reached this point, but clearly he hadn’t even been there for its beginning.

She sighed. Thought about calling him. The clock on her nightstand winked in and out. 2:17am.

There was no point, anyway. She knew where he’d be.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

As usual, it was raining.

Beyond the stretch of porch in front of him, sheets of water fell in a relentless assault on the sodden ground, and Killian mopped at his already sweaty brow. The air was thick and moist, even this early in the morning, the height of an unusually punishing June. He let the downpour carry on for another few moments before ducking out into it, bending to lift the wide bowl he had left sitting on the grass a couple of minutes earlier. Now filled to the brim with rainwater, he brought it back underneath the shelter of the porch and laid it down on the ground.

He'd had that dream again. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

There was a noise from not too far away, the screech of metal on concrete in the dark and the answering leap of a car horn out into the night air, but he tried to push it from his mind. This would never work if he couldn’t clear his thoughts. Folding his legs underneath him, Killian leant forward until he could see his reflection staring back at him from the bowl.

The surface of the water was inky black, the faint caresses of a breeze brushing ripples across the surface and making his reflection appear distorted, but he tried to see beyond that. Beyond his tired eyes and the hurt and the heat, to something more. Silently, he willed the dark pool to show him something else.

Show me the boy, he asked out into the dark. Show me the boy at the creek with the dagger.

Even just the thought of the dagger, the curling blade they had sent hurling into the ravine, brought forth a rush of unwelcome and jarring memories. The dagger, floating in the middle of their circle, summoning a storm of black lightning and hurt and that nothing, that awful nothing, and Killian could feel something tugging at the centre of his chest, beckoning him forward.

He couldn’t see his reflection anymore. The surface of the water was blank.

Not like this, he thought furiously, wrestling for control.

It wasn’t interested in his control. If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall. This was the bargain.

But –

He thought of her at home, in their bed, resting fitfully.

This was the bargain.

Emma.

Killian gasped for air, which was when he realised the tightness in his chest was because he hadn’t taken a breath in a long time. He almost fell forward, and his right hand shot out to the deck of the porch to stop his face from crashing into the bowl – which was when he realised it was just a bowl of water again. His reflection stared back at him, breathing heavily, eyes wild and afraid.

If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall.

In his mind’s eye, he could see it perfectly. The sparkling summer day. The boy, knelt with his right arm in the creek before he pulled it out, and the dagger with it.

Dragging his eyes away from the bowl, he reached into his pocket for his phone. The clock on the display ticked onto 2:17am.

Still? He thought, bewildered.

“You should be used to this sort of shit by now,” he muttered, before emptying the bowl onto the grass.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Henry only knew this because it had been 2:17am for a really long time already, but every time he checked the clock it was the same.

“Gotta be broken,” he mumbled, letting it drop back onto his nightstand. He told himself to roll over, to go back to sleep, Mom was making pancakes tomorrow and he didn’t want to be too tired to enjoy them, but something kept lingering at the edge of his awareness. Like a movement that was too quick to spot, or a sound too quiet to take shape, or that sensation after someone had taken a deep breath and they were waiting to speak, but wouldn’t utter a word until he looked at them.

Something was different, and it niggled at him like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

Somehow, he didn’t feel alone in his bedroom anymore.

He rolled over again, and this time his eyes instantly locked onto the shoebox he had stuffed under his dresser. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just did. Whatever he was feeling – it was coming from there, and the object he had hidden inside.

The dagger he had found at the creek.

It was… whispering to him.

Come, it hissed out into the dark. Listen.

Henry’s hand tightened on the covers. Then he gently pushed them back and sat up.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Robert should have been home hours ago, and Belle couldn’t sleep for worry.

Her heart stuttered into hopefulness with every shadow that passed in front of the pawn shop window, but each one merely reached the other side with barely a glance back at her. She thought about calling the police, but surely they would dismiss her concerns so early into the morning. It’s normal, ma’am, they would say, and laugh about wives wondering after their wandering husbands. But this was different.

There was something about the way he had looked tonight, something wild and dangerous and careless in his eye, that had made her want to take three steps back every time he opened his mouth to speak. His tongue had lingered over softer sounds, tickled by a secret that only it knew. Like an animal, his sharp eyes had followed her around the shop as they closed, and when he kissed her it had sent a shiver down her spine.

It had frightened her. He had frightened her.

You’ll see, he had said, when she asked where he was going. You’ll see.

Belle didn’t want to see. She just wanted him to come home. Her mind railed against the truth that had already started to creep into the corner of her heart.

Tonight, he had gone to Brooke House.

And Brooke House did not want to give him back.

-/-

Liam Jones didn’t care what fucking time it was.

Aching and exhausted, he kicked open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. The air was dank and cold, and smelled faintly of mildew, and he wrapped his coat tighter around him. Killian had needed three blankets before he could get to sleep earlier, the act of being inside the house only slightly warmer than the harsh early spring outside, but still sweat pooled at the base of Liam’s neck. His hands felt clammy with a layer of grit that he could never wipe away, and the moisture on his skin froze the moment he walked out into the night.

But under his skin, he burned with cold fury.

He’d have to pretend to be Brennan and call the school again tomorrow, there was no way he could go in if he needed to be up for the rest of the night. He could send Killian over to Smee’s, that was one problem dealt with. The older man would take him into elementary school; but even that solution summoned the familiar rush of dread that came to Liam whenever he thought of his little brother moving into middle school next year. That would make everything so much more difficult to hide from concerned and nosy neighbours alike.

How had he let this happen? Again? They had been making so much progress.

Liam rubbed his eyes tiredly. He should just hurry up and drop out. He was good with his hands, he could make a living doing carpentry jobs, move to some quiet town upstate maybe –

I’m just trying to prepare you for life’s big question, Liam.

What kind of man are you going to be?

A quiet town upstate? He was really setting the bar low for pipe dreams these days.

Then there was always the chance Brennan might be himself again by morning; maybe he could call the school. Could drive Killian in. Maybe he’d be up before the sun rose like he used to, whistling a sea shanty and cooking them eggs over easy.

Now there was a pipe dream.

What time was it? A distracted pat of his jacket let him know his phone was still inside, but he wasn’t quite ready to go back in yet. It had to be late. Or early. Wednesday. The recycling went out on Wednesday. Which mean they were two days closer to Friday, which was the eighteenth. Water bill went out on the eighteenth.

Brennan hadn’t worked in weeks. They’d be short.

No heat and no water. The only things he could rely on in this house were the bricks and the mortar.

Why him? Why did it have to be him?

Liam resisted the urge to scream. At the night, at the cold, at whatever curse had captured his family and refused to let them go.

It was 2:17am.

And Liam wasn’t alone on the porch.

Once alerted to the intruder he stumbled backward, fumbling around for anything he could use as a weapon.

“Liam?”

Liam froze, his fist having clenched around the shard of a shattered flowerpot Brennan had destroyed last week.

The stranger hadn’t moved, stood silhouetted against the porch light.

He blinked. Willed his racing heart to slow.

“Who are you?”

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Except, no, it wasn’t.

Emma frowned and looked at her phone again, and the correct time stared back at her; 10:41am. How had she thought it said anything different?

She shook her head. Shit, she really needed to get more sleep. Her foot resumed tapping its restless beat on the floor of the almost empty corridor.

The entire hall was almost completely deserted, only the low murmur of conversation ricocheting against thin walls and tall ceilings, and everything was beige. Beige walls, beige floors, beige murals; she fucking hated beige, it was such a non-colour. Just pick something a bit more appealing and stick to it. But in her not-all-that-limited experience, most government buildings seemed to default to beige, and it was no different in the Seattle equivalent of the DMV. They had been led up to the customer service desk almost half an hour ago, but nobody seemed to care about how goddamn important this was, and her anxiety was climbing with every unattended second that ticked past.

Somewhere down the corridor a door opened, and Emma immediately whipped around to look at it. A broad, cheerful man offered her a bemused smile at the sudden sharp attention he was being given, before disappearing out through another door.

“You need to calm down,” Killian mused.

A glance at him confirmed his eyes were still closed, head tilted to lean back against the wall with his hands folded over his stomach, but her impatience had to have been obvious even without looking at her. She huffed in a way which she knew made her sound puerile, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. From the moment they had been seated there he had stayed silent, and it was only fuelling her irritation that she couldn’t settle on whether that was because he was bored, tired or just giving her room to complain and agitate to her heart’s content. She preferred to know exactly what Killian was thinking.

The memory of waking alone the night before still smarted, and she had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t Killian’s job to always be at her side on the off chance she didn’t sleep through the night. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and she knew whatever had caught his attention this time had kept him up at least an hour or so after she had summoned the courage to climb back into bed. She had still been awake when he slid back in beside her, but she had pretended to be asleep.

He had probably known she was doing it, which was why he had kissed an apology into her shoulder and held her a little tighter than usual.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he hadn’t technically done anything to make her mad – and he was already sorry about the thing he shouldn’t have to be sorry for.

Which just made her feel even worse.

“I hate beige,” she grumbled.

Killian let out a breath of warm, ticklish laughter, something that growled pleasantly in his throat. Some of her temper ebbed away. “I know,” he said. “I’ll take you somewhere pink after.”

“There’s that big hotel in Hawaii that’s totally pink, right? What do they call that?”

He opened his eyes and arched an eyebrow. “And maybe when our next skip is the Queen of England, we’ll be able to afford to go there.” Even less than thirty seconds of talking to him, properly, she could feel her mood lifting. He reached one of his hands into her lap, seeking hers, and she let him thread their fingers together. “I was actually thinking donuts. The strawberry glazed kind?”

Emma sighed happily. “Make it chocolate and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He smiled warmly and squeezed her hand. “Whatever you want.”

His mood seemed light, but she wasn’t fooled. The way she would catch his eyes flickering carefully between her and the customer service desk in front of them told her all she really needed to know about the direction of his thoughts – they probably shared the same sinking feeling that had washed over her since they had arrived.

That this almost definitely wasn’t going to go her way.

“Ms. Swan?”

Immediately Emma was on her feet, bolting over to the desk as quickly as polite company would allow, Killian close behind, all traces of mirth evaporated from his expression. The man who had come to meet them wasn’t the same one who had led them up to the desk earlier, and a quick glance at his nametag told Emma they were speaking to a Mr. Heller. He resembled every bureaucrat that had ever taken residence in her imagination, thin in a sickly way and sort-of feeble-looking, but with a snide tug at the corner of his mouth which suggested he was not going to tell her what she wanted to hear, and he was enjoying the prospect immensely.

The sick feeling in her gut deepened.

“Thank you for waiting,” he said, in a bored tone, skimming the file he was holding. Emma tried to lift herself a little taller to take a look at it, but it was angled slightly away from her. “We were able to track down the license plate you requested in your application, but it was recalled eleven years ago. The vehicle it was registered to is no longer in use.”

It was easy to push back the first wave of disappointment – a setback, but not the most important thing. “But you know who it belonged to?”

Heller sighed heavily, and let the folder close. “I’m afraid the Washington State Licensing Department has denied your public records request regarding the owners of the plate.”

It was like a punch to the stomach. She could feel the warmth of Killian’s palm splayed against the small of her back, gently reassuring.

This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be another dead end.

“On what grounds?” he was asking, and she felt a rush of gratitude for him as she hadn’t quite been able to form her mouth around the words.

“Not enough evidence,” Heller continued, in that same flat tone that was beginning to grate. “We reviewed the article you sent, about the circumstances of the abandoned child at the edge of the road. There isn’t a lot of information available regarding the incident, even at the county level.”

“Well, it happened,” Emma replied hotly. “It’s me. I was the kid.”

Another banner year, right?

What?

We’ve all got ghosts here.

Heller quirked an eyebrow. “Then the department offers their sympathies. But there is no reason to suggest the plate you requested belonged to the vehicle involved.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Maine is a long way from Seattle.”

But she had seen it.

She had experienced the moment that changed the course of her life hundreds, thousands of times at the behest of a malevolent demon, while to the rest of the world she had been missing for five years. Even before that, the very fact of her being abandoned on the side of the road as a baby had cast its shadow over her entire life. Achieving any measure of answers about it had been unobtainable. She had made her peace with that a long time ago.

But then she became trapped in Brooke House.

And Brooke House had given her a few more pieces of the puzzle.

It felt like a dream, now. Like the scatter of smoke, or déjà vu. Something she couldn’t really be sure had happened. She had spent five years of her life suspended in a place that showed only her regrets, her fears, her desperate desires; anything that would make her pray for deliverance. In the two years she had spent free of it all, her ability to conjure up and consult those visions waxed and waned. The images it had shown her sometimes dribbled back like the trickle of a raindrop down glass to her waiting, thirsty mouth, but nothing was ever enough. While that feeling, that sensation of being left again, and again, and again remained seared onto her mind forever, the actual, physical details of the day her parents abandoned her were scarce. The vision was difficult to bring into focus.

Two months ago, a nightmare had caught her so tightly that Killian hadn’t been able to wake her for six minutes. Just when he had been reaching for his phone in a panic to dial 911, she had burst free; gasping, aching – awake and alive. The details had been so vivid. Before her eyes, her parents abandoned her at the side of the freeway; only this time she had spotted and could recall the plate of the car that had left her.

They had packed everything they owned into Killian’s Chevelle and made for Seattle in a matter of days.

This couldn’t be the end of the road. Not after everything she had been through to get here. She deserved answers, damn it.

“That’s the thing about cars,” Emma replied coolly, “they drive. And if you’re abandoning a kid, you’re not likely to do it on your own doorstep, are you?”

Heller looked bored. “You’re welcome to make an appeal against the department’s decision, so long as you do so within four to six weeks.”

“But I saw – we have a witness!”

“A witness?” His tone was disbelieving, and he fixed her with a hard stare. “Why didn’t you say so before?” Emma opened her mouth, but Killian pinched the side of her waist sharply and she hesitated. When she didn’t immediately confirm her declaration, Heller’s eyebrows rose victoriously. “Would they be prepared to come down here and make a statement?”

“We can ask,” Killian replied smoothly, before she could say anything. He whipped a notepad and a pen from his pocket. “Is it the same address we submit the appeal to, or –?”

Emma fumed quietly at his side. She knew why he had cut her off, before she could dig herself into a hole that would ensure state officials labelled her as halfway to crazy town, but it was infuriating. She couldn’t very well say their witness was her and the visions a haunted house halfway across the country had given her – a house which they had no physical evidence even existed, as it had since disappeared.

Silently, she smouldered.

Killian reached absently for her hand. She tugged it out of his grip.

Heller and Killian confirmed the logistics of an appeal process, but before long they were being thanked dully for their time and invited to leave. Emma stayed quiet for their entire walk out of the building, and she could sense Killian intentionally kept some space between them to allow her to adequately process what had happened in there.

Nothing. Nothing was what had happened in there.

Emma could feel the tide of something tight at the top of her stomach, like her insides were cramping. It was how she felt when she woke, uncertain, in the middle of the night.

“We’ll find another way, Emma,” Killian spoke gently as they stepped out into the morning sunlight.

Emma waved a dismissive hand and tried to focus her gaze on the particulars of the street. The chequered red, blue and silver line of cars parked along the sidewalk, the scent of wet asphalt and the hum of traffic whizzing by. They were far from a forest here – but she could feel the quiet whisper of the trees against her skin.

“I know, I know, I just –” She curled her toes in her boots, felt the stiff concrete beneath her feet. “I’m – tired of hitting brick walls.”

“We’ve got a little cash in the bank,” Killian pointed out, “maybe for the appeal we could hire a solicitor, just see if there’s anything else we can do to help our case.”

He was frowning at the note he had scribbled down during their conversation with Heller, his mind already four or five steps further ahead, and Emma felt a rush of affection for him. For his solidness and his patience. His tenacity was well documented, he had spent five years searching for answers about Brooke House and had never once given up on the idea that he would find them, and her along with them – even now he refused to let any speedbumps hamper their progress. It was so easy for her to get struck down by the first sign of resistance, but Killian persisted in a way she could only ever hope of emulating.

Nothing in the street felt tangible beside the resilience and vibrance of Killian Jones. Sometimes it felt like he was the only real thing she had found outside of Brooke House.

Like dust, the cars and the concrete and the chorus of the Seattle summer drifted away.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly, praying for an anchor.

“How are you always so optimistic?”

“Because I know what you’re capable of,” he replied easily, although it felt like he was speaking to her from a great distance. Emma fought to inhabit this moment. “And I’ve yet to see you fail.”

Killian was smiling, which had always done its best to keep monsters at bay.

In a blur the noises returned, like a radio slowly tuning into focus.

“Emma?” he queried softly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Are you still with me?”

The wet splatters of rain against the yearning canopy receded as it stretched for the sky.

Down the street a car horn blared, and she let it shake her firmly back into the present.

In Seattle, the sun was shining, and Killian was here. Standing so close to his warmth made her feel like a thief, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for him.

“Donuts,” she managed, nodding firmly. “I need a whole lot of donuts.”

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “You read my mind.”

-/-

Killian railed against the idea of calling Elsa’s home a house.

It was a huge, sprawling behemoth of a structure, with vast corridors that led nowhere and innumerable superfluous rooms that all looked identical, with walls scaled by books and furniture shrouded in neat, ivory sheeting to protect them from dust and age. More than once he had found himself completely and utterly lost while attempting to find the bathroom, which he was convinced changed locations every time he visited it, and that wasn’t even mentioning the size of the grounds which circled the outside of the house.

Embedded deep within the winding roads of West Bellevue, he was grateful for the opportunity to interact with something a little less urban than the busy street he and Emma had rented their flat on, and Elsa had opened up her home to all assortments of waifs and strays long before he had ever come on the scene. Truthfully, it was sheer coincidence that they had even met, crossing paths in downtown Seattle late one night – but then, he didn’t believe in coincidences anymore. He had been searching for something more, and she had been offering something for him to find. The rest was inevitable.

Clear night, isn’t it?

The room in which he spent the most time was the large dining room – the long table that would ordinarily occupy its centre was, as ever, pushed to the side against one wall and loaded with edible treats already half depleted, clearing the way for Elsa’s guests to arrange themselves on the floor in any number of styles depending on what the evening requested of them. The windows always remained open, so the room was immersed in the earthy scent of the outside, of wet moss and woodsmoke and pine, and the rain from the night before somehow made everything so much more pervasive.

Aurora stood in the centre of the room with her eyes closed, her hands held palm up with a pinecone resting atop them, while the rest of Elsa’s guests sat spread out across the room with their palms turned to the ceiling, mimicking the same position.

Killian sat at the edge of the room, notebook resting open in his lap, and observed.

Elsa stood, made her way over to Aurora, and placed her hands over the other woman’s.

“Child of earth, wind, fire and sea,” she spoke clearly out into the silent room. “We welcome you into our lives, into our homes, and into the waiting embrace of this powerful, caring woman. Think fondly on her, and choose her, as we have, to be part of your family.”

As Aurora opened her eyes, Anna stepped forward holding a candle in one hand and a ceramic bowl scattered with herbs in the other.

“Light it,” Elsa encouraged her, and Aurora held the pinecone over the candle until it caught.

The flame grew rapidly, Killian remembered reading somewhere that it had to do with the natural resins so near to the surface in pinecones, and soon Aurora dropped it into the bowl. Once there, the contents of the bowl started to gently smoulder and the scent of sweetgrass and sage began to float out into the air.

Killian took a deep breath. Let it wash over him for a few quiet, tender moments.

He wasn’t sure why, but he always felt closest to Liam here.

Aurora was smiling, and Elsa grinned back.

“Blessed be,” she said warmly. “And good luck!”

The group echoed a fractured but delighted blessed be, in response, before breaking out into a smattering of claps and spirited cheers. A few jumped to their feet to envelope Aurora in a loving, haphazard embrace.

No, house didn’t really cover the breadth of what Elsa’s home had become to this community, or the reality of what Killian had found there.

This was a covenstead.

It wasn’t the first coven Killian had ever encountered – his first had been in Pennsylvania a number of years ago, but they had been intensely private and suspicious of strangers, and their association had not extended more than a few weeks. Long before now it had become his habit to deliberately seek out suggestions of the world that existed beyond what they could see. It had started because of Brooke House, because of the mistakes they had made when they were seventeen and naïve and frightened; after Emma had disappeared, Killian had searched for answers anywhere he could. He had five years to cross the globe, to pursue every lead and overturn every stone that might hint at something more, with varying levels of success.

Now, Killian had spent so long searching that he wasn’t sure he remembered how to be anything else. Getting Emma back, rather than being the end of his fascination with the otherworldly, had only fuelled it. There were still so many questions he didn’t have answers to, with Liam being chief among them. His brother had been involved in all this, had known about this barely perceivable double life that some among them were living, but Killian still had no idea about the how, or the why.

Emma was his life now. Everything he had ever wanted. For so long, his sole focus had been in making this world as right for her as possible, in giving her the tools with which she could build her new reality and hoping desperately that she still wanted him in it; while privately wrestling with that disquieting sensation that accompanied stepping away from the bizarre and the unexplained for the first time in a long while.

It was difficult, he had realised, to come to terms with the fact that everything you wanted wouldn’t stay everything you needed for the rest of your life.

And Killian needed something.

On their third night in Seattle, he had met Elsa. The very same night he had first had the dream about the boy and the creek and the dagger.

He didn’t believe in coincidences anymore.

Soon after Elsa wrapped up the ceremony, the group began to disperse, some aiming for a few treats to take for the road while others went to collect coats and bags from the hall. For his part, Killian took more care than necessary slipping his notebook back into his already overpacked bag and began shrugging on his jacket. The ending of these meetings always left him feeling oddly bereft, like although every week he walked in with no idea what he would find, somehow his expectations were never met. Or perhaps it was the realisation that always came when he watched the members of the coven at its conclusion, mingling and trading smiles and stories about the week that had just passed.

He wasn’t one of them. They were all kind enough, and they liked him, but he wasn’t part of them. They wondered why he was there as much as he did.

Watching them, his heart throbbed for the one place that had always been home; for that warm, golden light, for Regina’s lasagne and David’s terrible jokes and Mary Margaret’s helpful reminders to enjoy happily ever after. His chest hurt for the wanting of it.

The clerk at the DMV the day before had been right: Maine was a long way from Seattle.

He turned to leave.

“Killian, hi there.” It was Elsa, calling him back, and he fixed on a cheerful smile as he pivoted on the spot to face her. “I hope today wasn’t too women-centric for you.”

Aurora was trying for a baby with her husband; as a result, they had focused the evening on fertility. The lighting of the pinecone was a ritual from Elsa’s book of shadows, and had followed a relaxing evening spent sharing poetry and prayers and best wishes about family.

(At the very least, that probably explained why he was feeling so homesick.)

“Not at all,” he assured her, not least because he didn’t feel fertility was an exclusively female pursuit. There were plenty of men there tonight. “It’s a pleasure to observe. Thank you again for inviting me into your home.”

“Anyone is welcome here, there’s no need to thank me.”

He was reminded, again, of how different Elsa’s coven were to the one in Pennsylvania; Elsa made a point of opening up the covenstead to anyone at any time, not just during their meetings. It was Elsa’s home, but it was also effectively a refuge or meeting place for any of its members whenever they needed it. The grounds in particular were always accessible, and something Killian himself had taken advantage of more than once.

Especially when he wanted to – well. Dip his toe into something Emma would never approve of. The covenstead felt like a safer place to explore those private desires.

If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall.

“You know,” Elsa was saying “if you would like to participate rather than just observe, we’d be happy to invite you to join us.”

For a moment he could see it; himself, sat on cushions with the rest of the group, palms up and eyes closed and waiting for wonders to begin again.

The image immediately fell apart as visions began to swim of a pentagram penned in black marker, scattered salt and a dagger rising above the swell of a storm.

This was the bargain.

“Oh,” Killian let out uneasily, trying to find the best way to refuse without sounding impolite. “No, that’s alright. Really.” Elsa looked a little disappointed, and he hurried to reassure her. “I’ve… had some experience with the miraculous. It didn’t exactly go well.”

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

“I wouldn’t say what we do here is miraculous,” Elsa replied, but he could see she was quietly pleased by the comparison. Awkwardness settled like dust between them, neither considering the conversation finished, but before they could continue a few people cut between them on their way out of the dining room and into the hall. They called out their goodbyes to Elsa as they passed, and she returned them warmly. Killian lingered until they were finished, fiddling with the strap on his bag.

Once they were gone, she took a step towards him.

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Killian shrugged. “By all means.”

“Why is it that you come to our meetings?” she clasped her hands in front of her, in a gesture Killian couldn’t help but interpret as deliberately nonthreatening. “And if you say Anna’s fruit loaf I might believe you, but I don’t really think that’s what it is.”

The question felt like it should be impolite, loaded with a query that went beyond their unspoken arrangement; that he could come, and he could watch, and she, like the rest of the group, would leave him be – but he was uninjured by her curiosity. Curiosity was, after all, what had brought him there.

So he surprised himself by being honest.

“For… proof, I guess?” he lifted his shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “That the world is still – strange?” The way Elsa watched him, almost waiting for him to continue, made that answer feel inadequate. He cleared his throat and searched for more to offer. “I actually lost my brother, a long time ago, now – and I still don’t fully understand why. And my partner, she…”

So good of you to finally come and see me.

“She went through something I can’t even begin to comprehend. But she doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Elsa nodded slowly. “Sometimes what we don’t say speaks more for what troubles us.”

“Yeah,” Killian agreed, feeling oddly liberated by the opportunity to confide in someone. All he could think of was Emma in the dead of night, clenched tightly in their bed, her arms and knees curled against her chest as she fought darkness only she could see. “Yeah, it does.”

“Perhaps she’d like to come along to a meeting?” Elsa suggested. “There’s no obligation to partake. She could observe, as you do.”

“Oh, no. No. She hates all this stuff.”

Emma had already made clear her opinion on the covenstead in Bellevue, she was not interested; and he felt compelled to apologise on her behalf, seeing as they were all perfectly good people who had done nothing to offend her.

“It’s just — that something, I mentioned,” he offered. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

“Well,” Elsa spread her hands. It was neither here nor there to her, he was sure. She couldn’t offer help to someone who didn’t want to receive it. “Have a good week, Killian. Will we be seeing you at our Litha celebration?”

Litha, Killian had learnt, was the wicca celebration of Midsummer, which took place on the summer solstice at the end of June. It traditionally heralded the beginning of summer, with its focus on fertility and the championing of light over darkness manifesting in the longest day of the year. The coven had planned an evening full of festivities including a large bonfire, an almost drastic amount of food and a lot of promised general merriment. Elsa had said last year two among their number had decided to spontaneously marry during the festival; in their eyes, the perfect way to celebrate new life and regeneration.

It sounded like a lot of fun. In the bleak, uninspiring, greyscape that Seattle had become to him in the last two months, it was a breath of life and the outdoors that he would be grateful for.

But he wasn’t really sure if he should. Especially with – well. With Emma.

“Sure,” he said, just to be polite. “If I can get away. That would be nice.”

He meant it. Elsa smiled understandingly, as if she knew he had no clear intention of attending but would let him maintain the charade for the sake of pleasant company – she was kind, and she didn’t really know him, but she had still invited him into her home without a single caveat. The coven respected her. Killian would like nothing more than to introduce her to Emma; he was sure whatever she refused to talk to him about she could bring before the other woman without fear of shame or regret, or whatever else she must think would come from Killian that prevented her from being honest.

Not that he was being entirely honest with her, either; she knew he came to the covenstead more often than their weekly meetings, but she didn’t know what he had been trying to do there. She couldn’t know. It was better she focused on the future, on the path ahead, on the fact that she was free, now, from the nightmare behind them.

It was lonely, he had come to realise, being the only one with unfinished business.

Clear night, isn’t it?

“Elsa, wait,” he said, before he could think better of it. A jolt of nervous energy ran through him, his feet squaring imperceptibly on the laminate floor beneath him as if they were ready to run, but he forced himself to stay where he was. “Actually, I’ve… for the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to scry.”

Elsa’s eyebrows shot upwards.

He could understand her surprise, given he had shown no interest in participating in any of the wicca crafts since he had started coming to the Bellevue covenstead. Scrying was something he had only really read about, but never seen performed; it was the practice of, at its core, looking into a suitable medium in the hope of detecting significant messages of visions. While the most notorious method of which remained fortunes told over crystal balls, the history of the craft extended far beyond recent iterations of neopaganism. Cultures as far back as ancient Egyptians and Babylonians had practiced scrying by gazing into stone dishes filled with palm oil.

Killian had never really bought into it – but its existence as a medium through which he might gain some insight had been too tempting not to at least attempt, and the results were, well. Inconclusive.

He stumbled over himself to continue. “I usually try at night, and mostly with rainwater, as I’ve heard that’s more potent? But I’ve also tried with tap water, and mirrors, too. But I’m finding it difficult to find direction.” He shrugged helplessly; his mouth felt bone dry. “It’s like staring out into silt.”

“Scrying is a challenging craft,” Elsa confirmed. “What is it you’re trying to see?”

He hesitated. Not just because he was reluctant to confirm the details for fear of sounding – well. Halfway to crazy town, as Emma would put it, but it was also this: he didn’t want Elsa to be part of it. Any of it. If he could protect one more person from the demons in his past, he would prefer to do so.

“I’ve… been having this dream,” he answered carefully. “A nightmare, really. It makes me worry someone might be in trouble because of something I didn’t finish.”

Come. Listen.

The quiet truth knocked gently. They had been naïve to assume it was over.

Elsa hummed thoughtfully. “Often, dreams are just manifestations of our anxieties –”

“This is different,” he said firmly. “I can feel it.”

Killian didn’t sleep the way Emma slept, treading that breathless line between the waking world and the rest, fumbling in those in-between spaces, sometimes needing help discerning where the truest threads of herself should lie. They had developed a number of strategies for her, routines to perform while waking to know she was no longer asleep; listing the objects she could see and smell and taste as chief among them. Anything to help her cling to the world above and pull her out.

Killian did not sleep that way. The delineation for him was clear.

Which was how he knew this was more than just a nightmare.

Elsa seemed to take his confidence at his word, and instead turned her attention back to the wider room.

“Tink, would you come over here?”

Tink was not her name, but nobody ever called her anything else, so Tink was what Killian had come to know her by. Her features were sharp, her wit just as cutting, and she had made a point of behaving as indifferently to him as possible in a way he found both frustrating and a little refreshing – somebody else acting like he didn’t belong there helped remind him he was separate, he was apart from all this. Currently, she stood looking exceptionally guilty by the dining table, three small cupcakes placed precariously on top of each other and clearly about to be tucked away in some tupperware for her return journey. Killian didn’t blame her. The lemon cakes were always especially divine.

“Tink is our resident expert on divining arts,” Elsa informed him after spotting his rather put out expression. In a few moments, Tink had joined them. “Killian has been trying to scry but hasn’t had a lot of luck.”

Tink wrinkled her nose. “Nasty business, scrying. Wouldn’t bother.”

“I’ve been having this dream I’m trying to –”

“Oh, boy. It’s amateur hour. Trouble with dreams, go see an oneiromancer. Or a therapist.”

Killian bit back a retort; he was somewhat regretting the decision to come clean already.

“Killian believes this is more than a dream,” Elsa spoke quietly, but firmly, “and it’s not our business to interpret another’s instincts. We were hoping you could provide some insight.”

When Tink turned her shrewd eyes onto him, he merely lifted a shoulder in a helpless gesture. “You said it,” he pointed at himself, “amateur hour.”

Tink looked immensely reluctant, but as her gaze flickered between Elsa’s imploring request and Killian’s discomfort, she finally heaved a defeated sigh.

“Agh, shit.”

She took a bite out of a lemon cake.

Through chews, she carried on.

“Catch me up. What’ve you tried so far?”

-/-

The quiet blip of a notification turned Emma’s attention away from the window and back to her laptop. She smirked triumphantly – finally some good news.

“There you are,” she muttered, “sneaky bastard.”

She and Killian had been tracking down the same skip for a few days – so far none of their usual tactics could draw him out, but his credit card had just been used at a convenience store around the corner from his previous place of employment. The first time she had gone to that office she’d had a feeling everybody was behaving just a little shady. Now she knew she was right to be suspicious and resolved to pay them another visit in the morning, provided Killian was alright with it.

Well, she corrected, only if she decided to give Killian a say. Emma’s gaze skimmed the empty flat. If he wanted to spend the night messing around with delusional, self-proclaimed witches, then she got to make the work decisions by herself.

She gritted her teeth at the thought of the house in Bellevue Killian liked to retreat to these days; why couldn’t he have joined a local rec team or found some obnoxious new drinking buddies like a normal guy? The group at Bellevue were all just a bunch of tree-huggers, even worse than Regina. Emma knew what real magic was. And it wasn’t dancing around a field wearing flower crowns or mumbling limericks over a cauldron.

Emma quickly jotted down the address and the details regarding the skip’s purchase. It usually helped to be able to throw everything in her arsenal at getting past the front desk of any office. Bail bonds was a career she and Killian had fallen into almost accidentally – it suited the nomadic lifestyle they preferred, and blended Emma’s instincts for catching someone in a lie and Killian’s propensity towards investigation quite well. It just worked. And they needed some way to get food on the table.

David had offered them work at the veterinary shelter more times than she could count, but she was sure that had a lot more to do with wanting them to stay back home in Storybrooke than anything else. But Storybrooke couldn’t be for them what it was to him and Mary Margaret, and Regina; not anymore. There were too many splintered memories. Not to mention half the town still thought Killian had kidnapped her and kept her in a cave somewhere for five years. The lines had to be carefully drawn.

The notes for their appeal were sat in a haphazard clump behind the laptop, and the stack looked exactly how Emma felt about it; worn, sad, and a little flustered. It had only been a few days, but something about the disappointment at the DMV left her feeling wrecked and restless all it once. It didn’t feel over, but whenever she thought about burying herself back in the endless bureaucratic process all she wanted to do was hit the pavement and not stop running until she fell off the corner of the map. She wanted to be outside. Balmy air drifted in through the open window, coloured by the frustrated yelps and the gentle roar of cars in the busy evening.

She paused, listening for the familiar growl of Killian’s Chevelle. Nothing.

With a jolt, she realised her pen was still in her hand and had been working idly against the paper. She peered over at the notepad, hoping she hadn’t doodled over her notes about the credit card – and nearly knocked over the laptop as she jerked backwards.

Scribbled over every inch of the page, completely obscuring anything underneath it, she had written her name. Over and over.

In a twisted, medieval cursive she had only ever seen in one other place.

Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma

The dagger swam into focus, and Emma resisted the urge to retch, clutching tightly at the desk in front of her with her left hand. Her right lay motionless across its surface, a foreign object to her now, a traitor which had scrawled out the pall that nestled around her shoulders and given it physical form. It was disquieting enough to see it there, a restless dream broken out, but only more disturbing to not remember having put it there.

She stood abruptly. Tore the page free, scrunched it up with that now untrustworthy hand, and dropped it down onto the floor.

Leaving the laptop open, she stalked out of the bedroom and across the hall to their tiny kitchen, determined to regain some control over the course of the evening, constantly clenching and unclenching her hand into a fist at her side. The kitchen was little more than two counters facing each other atop a strip of gaudy orange tiles with barely enough space for one person to pass by another, but they managed. They had never needed a lot of space, and their budget hadn’t been able to stretch particularly far. If they hadn’t needed a permanent address in order to submit the public records request, she probably would have made a case for sleeping in the Chevelle somewhere once they made it to the city.

Still, Killian had pointed out there was something nice about having a home base that wasn’t just the backseat of a car, and his suggestive glances at the bed when the realtor had taken them round had not gone unnoticed. Or unappreciated.

It was just – right then, especially without him in it, she didn’t want it. The lack of furniture, of personal affects, the rumpled sheets and the cracked plaster walls made it a gaping hole of something desolate and harsh. The jaws of something wanting in the shape of four walls and a door with a barely functional lock. She longed for the Chevelle and the torn leather seats, for something wild and alive.

At night Seattle burnt, and Emma yearned for home.

Not to mention it rained all the fucking time.

The door to the flat opened and closed, and Emma called out a greeting as she poured herself a glass of water. Killian didn’t reply. Assuming he had his headphones on, Emma allowed herself a few moments to breathe. She’d tell him about the credit card alert, let him know she was going by the skip’s office again in the morning and he could come along if he wanted, but she probably wouldn’t need the backup. Cornering a skip somewhere surrounded by friends and colleagues usually made them more amenable to coming quietly. Then she would ask as politely as she could manage about his evening and try not look too sour if he used the word covenstead again, instead of big fucking house.

Emma emerged from the kitchen, but he wasn’t setting his bag down in the sitting room like she was expecting him to be. Frowning, Emma re-entered the bedroom, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Her right hand twitched.

It felt numb, like she had been holding it in cold water for a few minutes. She could barely feel her other hand when she brushed her palms together, just the whisper of a touch instead of skin.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Killian.

Leaving now – should be 30mins. Stopping for snacks. Want anything?

Behind her, the door into the kitchen creaked, and the tap started to run.

Her mind rang with the dull truth slowly, like a bell tolling at dusk.

Someone had turned the tap on.

Killian wasn’t home.

Someone had turned the tap on.

Killian wasn’t home.

Her heart stuttered against her ribcage.

Immediately searching for anything she could use as a weapon, Emma darted back over to her desk to reach for one of the hardback file folders they used for work, but as she leant across to reach for it she froze.

Her laptop had been closed, and on top of it placed a clumsily straightened, crumpled bit of paper.

Her mouth went dry at its familiar script.

Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma

Still through the doorway came the splurge from the rapidly filling kitchen sink, and Emma began to panic. She couldn’t go out there. Not now. Not now she couldn’t know, couldn’t be sure if there was anyone there to find or if she had unknowingly slipped back into sleep and this was just another spill. Her feet were frozen, dug in like anxious roots into earth, while her attention remained fixed on the hallway for every single sound or breath of movement.

As quietly as she could, Emma closed the door to the bedroom. For good measure, she grabbed the desk chair and hooked it under the handle so it couldn’t turn, the noise masked by the water as it began to sluice over the side of the sink and splatter onto the floor of the kitchen.

Then she waited.

Was she dreaming?

It didn’t feel like a dream – but then, they never did. Her pulse raced, her skin felt cold even though her senses were telling her the flat was warm, hot, but she daren’t start mumbling aloud the objects she could discern as being real just in case it heard her. It. Already something had taken shape in her mind.

It liked to stop by, every now and then, just so she didn’t forget.

It wasn’t long before the noises grew louder. With the steady stream of water came the slap of footsteps through the puddle, of the flat soles of smart shoes pacing restlessly back and forth across her kitchen, the smack of cupboards being flung open and slammed shut again.

Not here, she thought, desperately, not when I’m alone.

Then Killian called her.

The sudden loud buzzing surprised her, and the phone slipped out of her grasp and onto the carpet below. Dropping to her knees and scrambling to reject the call, she split her attention between her frantic efforts and the blocked door, hoping against hope that it hadn’t heard, that it wouldn’t –

The door handle squeaked, stopping short when it was met with resistance from the chair.

When she was seven, there had been a month or so she had avoided being alone in her bedroom as often as possible. Not, she had insisted to Archie, because she was scared, but of course, really she had been terrified. It was a new room, colder, bigger, and the first one she hadn’t shared for as long as she could remember. For so long, all she could imagine was that one day the door would lock with her inside it, and nobody would ever come back for her or care at all that she was alone in there.

After weeks of creative avoidance strategies, Archie had finally wheedled the truth out of her, and had removed the lock the very next day. Then they had spent time drawing maps of the group home together, doodling creative means for her escape from that room until she was convinced that even if the door locked, it would be pretty easy to build a hang glider out of a kite and make a break for it through the window.

Nobody can control this door except you, Emma.

Only these days, she had built the lock herself. She checked a hundred times a day that it was still secure. She buried herself behind it and when the cracks had started to form, she had piled up bricks instead.

The handle creaked again.

A desperate, fearful sound ripped itself from somewhere deep inside her chest and she stumbled backwards, reaching for anything, wanting the maps, the exit strategies, everything she had burnt the day she decided it was more important to keep things out than avoid leaving herself trapped in.

The door to the bedroom rattled against its hinges.

Thump. Again. Thump.

Her fumbling hands fell on the door to the closet, and she hauled it open and ducked inside before she could think twice. She was breathing hard, her chest ached with the force of it. It smelt of black leather and mildew inside, and once she pushed through coats and her back hit the wall, she slid down onto the floor.

Once inside, the noises stopped.

Just, stopped. Like she had stepped out of an airlock, and all she could hear now was the hard, accelerated huff of her own breathing.

Was it still out there?

Like she was seven again, she pulled her knees up to her chest. She told herself it was just like when she and Killian used to play sardines with the other kids at the group home; exploring dark, gaping crevices until they could melt into its very walls. She had been older, then. Escape was all rationalisation, she didn’t need the maps. Keeping herself hidden meant just shutting her eyes and forcing it all out of her mind until she made herself unreachable.

As long as she couldn’t be seen, she couldn’t be caught.

Something in her twinged, something that ached for wide, open streets and a crumbling clocktower, for long conversations over steaming coffee and the vermillion kiss of the New England fall. Seattle was just unrelenting, torrid heat. Noise and noise and noise and more ceaseless, callous noise. And Killian’s coats smelt like midsummer rain and spluttering exhaust fumes in heavy traffic.

She couldn’t remember calling David, but she was glad when he answered.

“My new assistant is pteronophobic,” he sighed heavily, by way of greeting.

The words sounded like nonsense to her, but she couldn’t discern if that was because they were, or because she didn’t feel like she could trust her senses anymore.

“Terr— what?”

“Pteronophobic. She’s pteronophobic.”

Emma pressed herself as far back into the wall as she could go, curling tightly away from the door.

She tried to focus on the call. “So… she’s a dinosaur?”

David snorted. “It’s a phobia of being tickled by feathers. Isn’t that ridiculous?” He clicked his tongue. “Actually, what’s ridiculous is that she knew this about herself, yet she applied for a job at a veterinary shelter.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re the idiot that hired an assistant who’s scared of birds?”

“Feathers. And their proclivity for tickling.” She could hear him smiling down the phone, and already the pressure in her chest began to lessen. “Anyway, what’s up?”

Emma bit her lip. “Nothing, I just…” With a start, she realised the time and was amazed he had picked up at all. “Isn’t it nearly midnight over there?”

“You don’t call enough,” he reproached, but she could hear the tease in his voice. “This is like positive reinforcement.”

“How’s Ruth?”

There was a pause, a barely audible sigh. Gently, he repeated: “You don’t call enough.”

She could feel herself becoming more aware of herself, of her limbs tangled tightly at the bottom of the closet, of her hair sticking to the back of her neck, in a way that let her know that if she had drifted, she was returning now. It was nearly over.

“She misses you,” David added, “that’s all. So do we.”

“Me too,” Emma frowned, trying to remember the last time she had called anybody from Storybrooke. She had called after they got to Seattle, hadn’t she? How – how long ago was that? “Sorry.”

David made a dismissive noise, and as he always did, he forgave her.

“Everything good with Killian?”

Something in her chest squeezed as she remembered the call she had rejected.

“It’s fine,” she said, and tried to sound convincing, “I’m fine.” He didn’t have to know she was talking to him from the floor of a closet. “I just… wanted to hear your voice.”

For a little while, David said nothing. It was nice to just hear him breathe.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Emma smiled weakly, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Yeah.”

“Y’know, if it’s just that you’re afraid you’ll miss Seattle, I could set up the hose at the end of Mom’s porch and you’re welcome to stand under it whenever.”

“Wow, how generous,” she snorted. “It’s really more of a near constant moistness than always rain, though.”

“Or we could buy you a Subaru? You could sit in it and vape a Starbucks, or whatever it is you do there.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say to that.”

For a few moments they just laughed, until they petered back out into quiet. Emma thought about Killian returning home soon, and the fact that she really didn’t want him to find her in the closet.

“Listen, um… I have to go. I’ll call more,” she promised.

David hummed on the other end of the line. “I hope you do.”

She felt calmer now as she disconnected the call, her heartbeat still clear in her ears but a steady pound, almost reassuring, not racing away without her. With fresher eyes, she nudged open the door to the closet and edged her way out slowly. The bedroom door was still closed, the desk chair propped up against it, but the only sound she could hear was the humming of her laptop on standby and the noise drifting up from the street through the open window.

Carefully, she removed the chair and shut the window. Then she sunk down into bed, into the quiet, and buried herself beneath the covers. She felt like she had run a marathon, her muscles ached in the aftermath of pumped adrenaline, and all her body wanted to do was rest.

She didn’t realise until Killian got home, but she had forgotten about the flooded kitchen. She heard him pause in the hallway, then the patter of his boots on the sodden tiles. Once realisation struck, her entire body burned when she wondered what he must be thinking, thinking of her, her skin hot with humiliation. But he didn’t comment on it, at least not that she could hear. Instead she heard him pulling out the mop and bucket and cleaning it up.

She wanted to join him, she just couldn’t muster the willpower.

A passing thought occurred to her then, the meekest of suggestions, now that rational thought had crept back in.

Had she just left the tap on?

After a few minutes she heard Killian enter the bedroom, but he didn’t switch on the light. Instead he slid into bed beside her, still clothed, and curled himself around her as tightly as he could manage. Something in her relaxed, as it always did, a muscle coming unclenched as she sank into the safety of his arms.

This, she knew. This was always real.

He kissed her shoulder, and he didn’t say a single word.

She loved him for it, and she hated him a little for it, too.

#jay writes #the wind blows white #cs halloweek #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #cs au #halloweek #killian jones #emma swan #fingers crossed you all like it!

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tack-tick · 4 years ago

Text

First Crack

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31025765

Wrote an SBI Swap One-shot. Mainly becasue Phil and Techno’s relationship gets basically destroyed in this AU and this is the beginning of that. Also, this is the start of Techno’s issues down the line.

So yeah very important fic in the SBI Swap. Thanks to @sleepy-bois-incorporated for beta-reading this fic! They’ve got some good fics that I highly recommend you read!

Thanks for reading and it’s under the cut! It’s about 2.4K words!

Techno was so ready to stop taking care of this farm. Sure, he enjoyed potato farming but there’s only so long you can work on the same farm without getting bored.

He stretched as he finally loaded the last of the potatoes into a sack for him to take back to his base. Techno glanced at the clock stuck on the dirt wall and winced at the time. If he’d known, it was so late would have left earlier. He heard the mocking of Chat, with mummers of “Technolate!”

He heaved the sack of potatoes over his shoulder and started the trek from Pogtopia to his secret base. He used to just stay in his room here but he had decided he needed some space. Well, that was what he had told Phil.

He wouldn’t say him and Phil were fighting, that was a pretty strong word after all. It was more like they had been having… disagreements. Almost every day. For a couple of months. That more often than not ended in the two shouting at each other before someone, most likely Tommy, would yell at them to shut up.

So yeah, Techno could admit that things were a bit rocky between him and Phil. That was only because Phil had become a paranoid fool down here. He was working with Dream, of all people! He had been saying they were the bad guys and that he was going to blow it up and all this other nonsense. Techno has given up two whole lives for this and there was no way he was letting Phil throw it all away!

Techno stopped and took a breathe. No, he was getting worked up again and it couldn’t help that he could hear Chat started to get worked up too, causing red to spread at the edge of his vision.

Even if Phil had been acting very different than normal, Techno couldn’t just leave him behind. Phil had gotten screwed over by so many people and there was no way Techno would add another knife in his back. It was why him and Ranboo hadn’t just run off to the cabin in the woods. Far away from wars and duels, where Wilbur and Fundy were safely tucked away.

He wished he told Ranboo to go without him. He stopped in front of the hole that separated Ranboo’s room from the main area. He didn’t really know why his feet had taken him there but he might as well check on him. After all, Ranboo was his… brother? Maybe? Techno wasn’t sure but Chat was awfully protective of him after the whole fireworks in the chest thing.

Techno poked his head into the room and saw Ranboo sleeping on his bed straight ahead. His arms were still wrapped up tight with white bandages but at least he wasn’t having a bad dream tonight. Techno could see the faint glow of the purple burn scars on his face and through the bandages. Ranboo had said that was just an enderman thing.

“Looks fine to me, Chat,” Techno whispered and he left the room. Certainly better than a couple of weeks ago. Techno continued on past Phil’s room and heard the faint caws of the injured crows Phil kept in there. He hoped that they would get better soon, considering that Phil hadn’t cleaned that room for months now. As Techno was about to go around the corner, he heard whispering.

He summoned his sword from his inventory and pressed his back against the wall. He inches closer to the edge and tried to make out what the voices were.

“Come on Phil, he hardly looks in these chests!” Tommy said with a whine. Techno slumped a little in relief. He put the sword back in his inventory. While he would normally confront Tommy about stealing his stuff again, he really didn’t feel like it tonight. Besides, he could let Phil handle this one. He casually leaned against the wall. If Tommy wouldn’t budge, he’d step in and make it two against one.

“Tommy, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t piss him off,” Phil said. Techno heard the opening of a chest lid and the annoyed sigh of Phil.

“Ah, but that’s the best part Phil!” Tommy said with a small chuckle.

“Tommy, we need to keep Techno at our side,” Phil said and Techno frowned at the unfortunately familiar paranoia in his voice. Was he really paranoid of even him? Sure, he’d talked about how they couldn’t even trust Ranboo. It was what one of their bigger arguments had been about but surely Phil knew that Techno would never in a million years betray him.

It was why he hadn’t just left all of this behind when Ranboo had asked if they should run away.

“Techno? Psh, that’s about as likely as me betraying Tubbo or Wilbur,” Tommy said flippantly. He heard the chest lid close and creak as he assumed Tommy was leaning on it. “Besides, we’ve gotta stick together! We’re family!”

The silence seemed to fill the room as Techno waited for Phil to agree.

“Right, Phil?” Tommy said, his voice softer and more hesitant than it had been before.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say we need Technoblade exactly,” Phil said, slowly and thoughtfully. The chest creaked again as Tommy presumably shot to his feet.

“Let me finish,” Phil said with a small yet dark laugh. “I said we don’t need Technoblade but,”

“We do need The Blood God,”

Techno had clamped his hand over his mouth in a desperate effort to not cry out, to not scream. He slid down the wall and onto the floor, his back against the wall. Chat was ringing in his ears, their voices mixed with rage and grief.

How long? How long had Phil been thinking of him like this? When had Phil started thinking of him as just a weapon to fight for him?

Techno tried to focus back on the conversation, but everything in his head was too loud.

Sure, people had used him before but most of the time they were honest. Pay him to go fight something then separate. He was fine with that but sometimes it seemed like he had made a real friend. Then, when the fighting was done they just… left.

Not Phil though, never Phil. Phil had been the one to save him from himself when he was just a kid and Phil had been the one who had held him tight when Chat got out of control.

A sharp slam on a wall wrenched him back to reality.

“Are you fucking serious Phil?” Said Tommy. “He’s not a fucking weapon, he’s a person!”

“I don’t need a person right now!” Phil said. “People stab you in the back but weapons never do!”

Techno heard Phil chuckle at that but it wasn’t the warm laugh from the old days when him and his brothers would bicker about something stupid. No, it was darker, the one he used when he insisted that they needed to be the bad guys and blow it all to kingdom come. When Phil insisted that they couldn’t trust Ranboo, even after he got himself blown up with a damn firework because of his spying for them.

“Phil, you’re starting to freak me out a little,” said Tommy and Phil let out a bark of laughter at that.

“Oh am I?” He said, “What, you gonna run back to Wilbur? I thought you wanted excitement!”

“Phil, this isn’t you! Stop saying this shit about him!” Tommy said and Techno heard two steps on the floor. Whether it was two steps forward or two steps back he wasn’t sure.

“Stop being a naive child, Tommy,” Phil said, “I can’t afford to be too personal with anyone anymore and The Blood God is the best fighter on this entire server and you know it!” There was a sharp bang on the chest lid. “If he decides he wants to work with Manberg, we’re fucked!”

“Surely you know Techno would never do that,” Tommy said. “Surely, you know how hurt he would be if he knew what you’re saying right now!”

“I don’t care how he feels. As long as he can fight, that’s all I need,”

With that, Techno heard the flap of wings and he guessed that Phil had flown off. He heard the sound of running and then everything was quiet.

However, quiet never lasted long and Techno held his hand against his mouth even tighter as the Char roared in his head.

“Used us!” “Lied to us!” “How could he…” “We trusted him!” “Kill him!”

Techno stumbled to his feet. He was still clutching the potato sack and his knuckles had turned white. He started walking then he was running.

He had to get out of this suddenly too small ravine right now. His vision was flashing red and Chat was only getting louder and louder by the second. He bit his lip in order to keep quiet even as he tasted blood on his tongue.

He finally reached the winding stairs and ran up them, almost tripping on his cloak. He got upstairs and flung the door open. The cool, fresh air of the night hit him and he was never so grateful in his life for it.

He wasn’t in the clear yet, however. He still had to get to his base. He started walking through the woods. Chat had quieted down a bit but now he had a headache that rang through his skull.

He got to the river and dove in. He swam down the bottom and opened the trapdoor. With that he finally landed in his base.

He sat down on the couch in the… oh.

He was in the living room. The one place that Phil had helped him decorate before he had started acting unlike himself. It was filled with potted plants and a cozy rug on the floor. It didn’t match because they had been forced to smuggle out old furniture that had been thrown out. He sighed and put his head in his hands. He sniffed when he felt a strange wetness on his cheeks. Did he have a leak on the ceiling again?

He wiped his cheek and he realized.

“Oh,” Techno quietly said. He was crying. He wiped his cheeks again.

“Who else is…” he muttered to himself. He thought he had finally found a group of people that wouldn’t use him. He had trusted all of them. He really had!

He… he had trusted Phil. What a fool he was.

He got up from the couch with a jolt and started pacing the room.

“I gave up everything for his fucking country!” He said, his vision getting redder and redder by the minute. “What else is he lying to me about?” His pacing was getting faster and faster.

“I don’t need him!” He said with a watery laugh. Chat was in his ears fully now but they were being so loud. They were being so loud, too loud. He couldn’t hear anything. His eyes were burning and why the hell was he still crying for someone who he wasn’t sure had ever cared about him.

“SHUT UP!” He yelled and slammed his fist against the stone wall. He stood there, with his fist in the wall and trying to catch his breath. Cracks spread from the fist like veins.

Suddenly, Techno felt something small on his chest. Still leaning against the wall, he used his other hand to reach down and grip it.

Oh, he’d almost forgotten he had this. He looked down at the small emerald necklace in the palm of his hand. The emerald was lined with gold.

Techno remembered this. Him and Phil had found these on one of their many adventures. They had found a village and Phil borrowed an anvil to carve something into them.

He called them Friendship Emeralds. He remembered they had laughed at the cheesiness of it, but Techno had still kept his. All this time, he had made sure the emerald necklace had stayed around his neck.

He clutched the necklace tighter. Did Phil still have his? Had he thrown it away?

He had promised Phil the world once and he gave it to him. So why was Phil going to take what he had given him and render it useless?

With an angry yet sorrowful roar, Techno ripped the necklace off and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a crack.

“Oh no,” Techno said and he immediately went to where he saw it shimmering on the ground. Chat’s laughter filled his head.

“Serves him right!” “Ha, emerald is gone!” “Technothrow!”

“Please don’t be broken, please don’t be broken,” he muttered to himself as he bent down to examine it. He sighed in relief. Despite little bits of emerald surrounding it, the core was still intact. All that was there was a long, thin crack that stretched from the top to the bottom. Techno stuffed it in his cloak’s pocket. He’d have to find a replacement gold chain later.

Techno just sat on the floor. No, he had to start thinking straight. Even if Phil said those things about him, that didn’t mean he was giving up on him. He was only messed up because of the war and being stuck in Pogtopia for such a long time. However, even Techno wasn’t sure what Phil would do in a week’s time. After the fighting was finally over and they had reclaimed their country. They would get back L’Manberg, no doubt in his mind about that. If Phil decided to do something stupid, then who could talk him out of it?

Suddenly, Techno knew exactly who he needed to write to. He could hear that Chat had the same idea and was saying his name over and over again.

Techno quickly got up and rummaged through a chest and found a pen and paper. He sat down on the couch and started writing a letter in what was probably the worst handwriting he’d ever write but that didn’t matter. He had to get this letter to him as fast as possible.

The person who was supposed to be here in the first place. Who hadn’t come becasue he had a son to take care of. Who had the charisma and charm to convince anybody to do practically anything. Who was one of the smartest people Techno knew. The one person who Phil would never think would have any reason to betray him.

“Dear Wilbur…”

#dream smp #technoblade #Philza #tommyinnit #fanfiction #SBI Swap #Friendship emeralds=free symbolism!#Techno looks at Ranboo and goes fuck #I have a younger brother #But yeah AE Duo kinda falls apart in this AU #on the bright side #we got anarchy bros in Wilbur and Tommy

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captainillogical · 5 years ago

Text

Distant Lands Ch.10

Stranded on a planet with toxic conditions and nothing but the clothes on your back, your only means of survival lies within the gem that got you here in the first place.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

You get to the top of the stairs - hand still on the rail, and this time the air around you is very, very cold. You can see your breath in the moonlight, it dissipating quickly once it has the chance of escaping your lungs. The opening in the crumbling, broken wall has some light pouring in from the moons outside. You can only see two of them from your current standing position. Dropping your hand from the rail, you walk over to the open ledge and take a deep breath of the rigid jungle air beyond the Spire. It's a lovely night out tonight.

You take in the view for a while, not exactly keeping track of time. Out on the horizon, you can barely see the edge of the line of trees - the fog is fairly thick and is obscuring much of the lush greenery. The stars are barely visible tonight. Taking a step back, you notice something out of the corner of your eye, and turn your head to see Spinel quietly standing there about six feet to your right.

You almost jump, and can feel your heart beating wildly inside your chest. How did she get here without you noticing? What the fuck?

"Up here, all alone?" She finally speaks up after a moment, ghost of a smirk on her lips.

"What, am I not allowed? Maybe I came up here to think." You reply without missing a beat. The wind flows freely up here, and the bite of the cold makes you involuntarily shiver. She regards you almost.. carefully, with her gaze. She quirks an eyebrow at you, before opening her mouth again to speak.

"Ya' up here to think? Well, maybe then you'll finally admit a couple things to yourself."

She takes one, two steps closer to you, beams of light from the moons above illuminating half her face in long, dramatic shadows.

"Admit what?" You hear yourself asking.

Her gaze flickers between the both of your eyes, and then she leans closer to you, close enough so you can see just how dark those marks on her cheeks are, and says:

"You-"

There's a sharp tug on your abdomen, and you are thrown into consciousness via a face full of very cold, very hard cement.

Opening your eyes and looking downwards, you come to the conclusion that you somehow had rolled over far enough to have gone straight off your tarp pile and onto the floor, pulling most of the cloth you’ve got over you with. You roll back over to see Spinel still asleep, an arm stretched out towards you as you were probably lying under it until recently. (She likes to pretend she’s not a cuddler, but nearly every time you’ve woken up since you’ve been here she’s either got some limb wrapped around you, or her face is pressed into your shoulder.) You feel a little bad that you had pulled the tarp off of her, leaving her out in the open air. You grab the edge of the cloth, pulling it up and over the gem, bringing it right up to her chest before dropping it.

Laying your head back down, you take a long breath while re-settling yourself. You watch her chest slowly rise and fall with her breathing, eyes fixated on her gem. The room around you is completely quiet, only the sounds of her breathing beside you are audible.

What the fuck was that dream about? You barely have dreams anymore, let alone ones that are so.. realistic with their message. Normally it’s weird shit that doesn’t make any sense, not something like this. Whatever. Your brain is just tired and stressed from this.. situation you are in. You’re not going to put too much thought into figuring out what that meant. Closing your eyes, you drift back off to sleep to the sounds of the gem next to you softly breathing.

Even though it feels like you’ve only been asleep ten minutes, you wake up to Spinel shaking your shoulder and you roll over to face her. You feel like shit.

“Mornin’.” She says, her face pressed into the tarp pile. Her face has lines pressed into it where she slept too hard on an uneven surface, and she’s got a little bit of dried drool on the corner of her lip - but she looks like she got decent rest. “Figured I’d wake ya’ since it’s later than you usually sleep, and we planned on checking out the kindergarten today.”

You stare at her for a moment, mind working at about the pace of the flow of molasses. She’s got loose strands of hair all over the place (some even sticking to her mouth), face looking weirdly refreshed from sleep - and you find this to be strangely endearing. This is the most human you have ever seen her.

“Could’ve been a little nicer about it.” You reply groggily, coughing into your hand to clear your throat.

“How was that- are ya’ royalty? How would you want me to wake you up? The gentle fanning of leaves!?” She sits up, pushing the tarp off of herself.

“Yeah, that would be lovely actually.” You sit up as well, clutching your head. You feel like today is definitely gonna be a day alright. “And while you’re at it, feed me some grapes.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She scoffs in reply, but you can hear the smile in her voice.

You grunt out a non-committal response, stretching your arms over your head and getting up from your current position. It doesn't take you long to eat, and you only drag your feet a little bit in actually leaving the Spire.

You know the kindergarten is somewhere nearby, but you had Spinel look up it's coordinates just in case you were slightly off the mark. The two of you make small talk on your way there, only taking about half an hour to reach your destination. It isn't a long or difficult walk.

Soon as you get close to the kindergarten, you can see rocky ravine for miles. With the sun high overhead and it's rays beating down on your body, you can feel yourself break out into a sweat much to your irritation. It had rained last night so not all of the water has evaporated in this heat yet, and it just feels absolutely awful and swampy. You'd much rather be chilling in the proximity of that small waterfall right now, truthfully.

The trees get a little sparser the closer you get to the ravine, and it seems so very bright where you’re heading. Approaching your destination, you finally get a decent look around the area, Spinel stopping by your side.

The sun beams down on you two, and you have to shield your eyes to get a proper look around. Many layers of this planet's crust is showing in vibrant shades of orange, large rock walls reaching at least a hundred feet high, and you see a few holes where some gems probably emerged from. There’s.. there’s something wrong here, and you can’t put your finger on it.

“Um. Where are most of the Injectors?” Spinel speaks up before you can get any words out. Ah. That’s it. You see two or three empty Injectors along the wall of rock, but that’s it.

“Good question. I have no idea.” You reply, and she turns her face to give you a puzzled look.

“I don’t understand. Even if gems abandon a planet, it’s not like they take any of this stuff with. They just write it all off as a loss and move on.” Her eyes flicker between yours, as if she’ll find the answer there somehow.

“They obviously can’t just disappear, either. What the hell?” You say in agreement, the gentle breeze of hot, humid air wrapping itself around you like a wet blanket.

The both of you wander further into the area, intent on finding out any kind of clue at all. There are quite a few areas here that are just giant mud pits, as there’s no trees to soak up any of the rainfall. The ground practically squelches under your feet, and you hate it. You hate this entire stupid planet. At least Spinel doesn’t piss you off anymore. You find yourself angry that you had that thought in the first place, and then even angrier when you realize you’re angry about that. Whatever, you’re not here to argue with yourself.

You notice a couple of the broken injectors that are piled up off to the side near some large boulders, and point them out to Spinel.

"Those are similar to those pictures we saw." You say, walking closer to observe the damaged parts. There's five or six of them here, and they're pretty fucked up. The drill part of the injectors are completely ripped off, and they all have a hole smashed into the sides of the glass - where the liquid was drained.

"Why would they do this?" You hear Spinel say beside you.

"You seriously think the gems did this?" You turn to her to reply.

"Yeah, well, nothing else makes any sense." She reaches out, and touches some of the glass with her hand. You wanna smack her hand away for some reason.

"It could've been something else? We don't know."

"But what could kill that many gems?" She puts her finger to her lip, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"We don't know that they died, either, Spinel. That's kind of morbid." She glances at you, giving you a look.

"None of them returned in those logs. That's a lot of gems. Something strange had to have happened here." She looks back at the injectors thoughtfully for a moment, before backing away a couple steps. "I'm gonna keep looking around."

"Okay, I'm gonna look at these a little more." You reply with a nod, and she meanders off to where you can't see her. You lean down to get a closer view.

The glass is broken in a specific way on each of these injectors, as if none of it was controlled. It's obvious to you that they weren't smashed or drained on purpose, and you can see the tearing on the internal parts of this machine aren't cut clean. It was if something bit into these injectors and just stomped on them afterwards.

You notice quite a few scratch marks on the sides, but it could've been from anything, even from when they were being dragged on the ground. There's a couple areas where the gouging is deeper, but nothing else that really stands out.

You stand back up, and your back cracks from your earlier position. It still doesn't make much sense. So many injectors are still missing. You stand there in the heat, quietly thinking about what could've gone on, when you hear Spinel call for you a hundred or so feet away. You turn to the direction she called from, seeing nothing. Might as well see what she needs. You walk towards where her voice came from, and when you get past some more large rock obscuring your view, you see exactly why Spinel called out to you.

“Can ya’ believe the size of this one?” She says, turning her face towards you with a peaked eyebrow.

She’s standing in front of another tunnel. It’s obvious that it’s a tunnel now, as you can see into it about twenty feet before it gets too dark. The outer edges of this one are much, much wider, and there are large gouges inside along the wall of rock and mud. There’s a couple more injectors in this area as well, but less than you can count on your hand. Off to the opposite side of this seems to be a huge drop off a cliff.

“I kinda wanna go in.” She squints her eyes into the darkness, putting her hand up to her chin.

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen. We don’t have a light source, and if it actually is something that killed all those gems, I’m not gonna walk into like, a literal hell hole.”

“It’s the one thing we haven’t checked out yet. We don’t have any other leads.” “You know our goal is to get off this planet, not investigate all its mysteries and die in the process, right?” You reply sarcastically.

“We’re going in there eventually.” She says with such stubbornness that you roll your eyes.

“Talk to me about that in another week because honestly? I’m not going in there unless I have a way of finding myself out if you die in there, or I somehow get lost.”

“Y/N! Ya’ kinda being a bit ridiculous about this!” She gives you a look of exasperation, and sighs, dropping her arms to her sides.

“It’s not ridiculous! You have no idea what it’s like to be trapped somewhere in the dark!” You spit out, aggravatedly.

“What.” She furrows her eyebrows, teeth showing in a snarl of frustration. Oh, right. Shit.

“Spinel.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache forming in the back of your skull. “You know I meant it like-”

“I don’t know what it’s like?? ME.” She forces out with such incredulousness in her voice that it echoes out all around you, travelling out through the ravine far enough until it fades out. The silence that befalls afterwards is nearly deafening.

You open your mouth to apologize, but you’re having difficulties with forming the right words. She watches you for a second, pupils flickering between your eyes.

“I’m s-” You start with, but immediately feel tremors underneath your feet. Spinel’s face reacts accordingly.

“A quake?” She says, her eyes widening a little.

"Yeah, this feels like the one from before." You look around, not exactly expecting to see anything out of the norm other than some puddles of water rippling. The rumbling of the planet only lasts for a couple of seconds, and silence falls around you again.

You feel a hand wrapping around your upper arm and before you can react, Spinel yanks you several feet off to the side as something large comes crashing down in front of you, splashing you with a wall of mud and stale rain water.

“Oh what the fuck!?” You exclaim as you wipe mud off of your face. It’s an injector that fell off from high up on the wall.

“That was a close one. Glad it didn’t squash ya’.” Spinel says, wide-eyed, and drops her hand from your arm. Whatever kind of mood that was just happening between you two is long gone. “The tremors must have loosened it enough for it to finally fall down.”

“Bullshit is what it was, I’m entirely covered from head to toe in mud.” You spit out some dirt that managed to get into your mouth. The soil here tastes acidic. Spinel got hit as well by the splash, but not nearly as much as you did. Of course. “I wanna leave. We’ve been here long enough, and I wanna wash all this out of the only clothes I have while the sun is still up.”

“But-”

“Spinel, we’re not going into the tunnel. Drop it.” You cut her off with, and sigh.

“Argh, FINE! We’re discussing this some other time then.” She says frustratedly, crossing her arms. She turns to walk off in the direction you guys came from, and you follow her lead.

It takes you a bit to find a nearby body of water, but you do manage to find another small lake. This one is closer to the size of a pond with quite a few trees surrounding it, and you can see the Spire from here. With the sun high up in the sky beating down on you this entire time, the mud has completely dried on you, much to your displeasure. It’s pulling at your skin in all the worst ways.

For some reason Spinel hasn’t phased the dirt off of her clothes. Not that you really care, you just find it strange. She walks around the edges of the water, looking like she wants to just dive in. You grab the edges of your shirt, peeling it over your head slowly. Caked bits of mud fly about, and you throw your shirt directly into the water with a large splash. You struggle to take off your jeans, and you momentarily lose your balance enough on one leg to fall directly on your ass. Spinel snickers at you a couple meters away, and you turn your head to glare at her.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to peel these off, asshole? You don’t. You haven’t even phased the mud off yourself.” You say to her, gesturing at her with your hand. You finish taking off your pants on the ground, also tossing those in the water.

“It doesn’t really bother me.” She replies with a shrug, and jumps into the water with a splash.

You get back up, opting to keep your underwear and bra on. It's whatever. You're going to be in the water anyway. You watch Spinel lazily float on the surface of the water as you walk in, careful not to slip on the rocks at the bottom. You reach out and grab your clothes that are now soaked and about to sink into the water completely, and keep them close to yourself as you submerge your head underneath the surface of the water.

When you come back up for air and wipe your face off, you hear Spinel mumble a "Hey." off to your side, and you turn to face her.

"Hm?" You manage to grunt out.

"I think we need to have a discussion about somethin' important."

"And that is..?" You run your fingers through your hair, still feeling mud. Gross.

"What are we gonna do if no one ever finds us?" You see her pupils gravitate over to your face as she regards you.

Honestly.

You had been blocking that likely possibility in your thoughts for a while now to keep up the facade of your waning sanity. Also you know. To try to keep it positive.

"We keep trying to find a solution to leave." You reply, and submerge half your head in the water to scrub more dirt out.

"There's.. there's really nothing we can do though. I think the tech is too old to get communications back up. Believe me. I tried."

"Yeah but in the Spire there's dozens upon dozens of crates filled with parts to something. I saw it when I was up there exploring." You squeeze out the rest of your hair, feeling that it's finally dirt free. You move on to scrubbing down the rest of your body.

"Y/N.. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but most of the stuff that they'd bring supplies for would just be for the kindergarten."

"But I saw-"

"It'd be useless to us." She says, cutting you off. You look over to her, a bit surprised that she's being so direct and snippy about this. She's looking purposefully towards the sky, edges of her face being framed by the water she's floating in.

"Why are you saying this now?"

"Because we've been here a while, as you've noticed. With no sign of like, anyone attempting to contact us. We need to face reality."

"Sounds like you already have given up. Well, I haven't." You reply to her with a huff, and grab your clothes to wash the dirt out of them.

"How can you still have hope? It's been weeks, Y/N." She turns her head to face you, fixing you with a look.

"I believe Steven wouldn't just give up on me like that, for starters. I'm just hoping he remembered about our keychain."

"Uh, what keychain?" Her eyebrows raise in confusion.

"Err, remember that convo about that night I snuck away? I might've forgotten to mention that I placed a small tracker I have as a matching keychain with Steven by that tree on the hill.." You say as you swish your pants through the water, squeezing the mud and dirt out of the fabric.

"You had a tracker and you didn't tell me!?" She almost manages to sound like she's upset, and she stops her floating to stand up in the water and stare at you.

"It slipped my mind the last week or so. And yeah, I didn't tell you before because I was kinda under the impression that you'd probably destroy that too, like you did the warp pad."

"I.. yeah." She replies, looking a little ashamed of herself. For some reason your chest feels a little constricted when she looks at you, and you almost want to reach out to her. You don't know why, but suppress the urge regardless. "I don't blame ya' honestly. I.. probably would have, too. Knowing myself."

"And you won't destroy it now?" You reply, and she fixes you with a look.

"Shouldn't you know by now if I was going to?" She huffs almost disappointedly at you. "Anyway, we should probably go back for it considering we're a couple miles away from it now, and if your friends did come, they'd be confused."

"Yeah, I figured." You shrug, and move onto washing your shirt. "I'm just kinda dreading that walk again. It's always so hot here that I feel disgusting being out and walking in this swampy air."

"You're tellin' me. I was kinda used to a more moderate temperature back in the garden. Several thousand years in the same climate to.. this? It's absolute torture, really." She submerges herself in water up to her chin, idly swimming while you wash up.

"Earth has a wide range of weather patterns so I've dealt with this kinda shit before, but I never lived in any kind of tropical region. I'm not great at dealing with the humidity. It feels like I'm walking through thick, wet air." You're having difficulty scrubbing all of the dirt out of the fabric, as for some reason it wants to cling to it.

"This planet sucks." She says with such gumption that you manage to snicker. She looks at you like she's a little surprised, but also pleased at herself.

"Listen, you picked it. Only I'm allowed to complain about it." You reply, using more force than necessary to scrub your shirt.

She opens her mouth to retort, closes it, and gets a suspiciously mischievous glint in her eye.

"What-" Is all you manage to get out of your mouth before Spinel whips her arms out at rapid pace, splashing you with a face full of water.

You stand there, dripping and staring at her. It's deadly quiet as she's waiting for you to speak. She's watching your face intently as you casually lift up the hand you've got the shirt you're washing in, it drenched in lake water.

"You think you're funny huh!?" You say as you throw the soaked shirt at her, and it unexpectedly hits her in the face with a wet smack. It falls back into the water comically, and her face is the funniest fucking thing you've seen in a long time.

"How dare you!" She cries, splashing you again, and you cover your face as you laugh.

"I wasn't going for your face, I'm sorry!" You say in between laughs. Her face twists into shock, and then mirth, as she splashes you for a third time.

"Well then, that's payback." She chuckles smugly, and now you want to wipe that smirk off her face. You drop your hand into the water and quickly splash her right in the middle of her face, drenching her.

"Y/N!" Spinel gasps, mock betrayal in her voice. She drops both of her hands into the lake.

"Don't." You plead with a shake of your head.

"Don't what?" She says coyly, and brings up both her hands with a mountain of water in tow, and this starts an all out war.

She hits you square in the face with another wall of water, and you laugh as you sink further into the water, bringing up both your arms to throw more water at her from a lower angle. The two of you struggle to breathe through your bouts of laughter as you keep splashing lake water at each other. This really only lasts for about thirty seconds, but the both of you are nearly out of breath and laughing so hard that you're having a hard time standing up.

When your giggles subside enough to give you room to breathe, you cough a couple times to clear your throat, face hurting from the laughter. It's been a while since you've done that. You glance over to Spinel, who's standing still in the water. She's got her gaze set on you, almost like she's lost in thought. When she realizes that you're looking back at her she also clears her throat and shakes her head, sending bits of water flying off her.

"Anyway." She says. "I definitely feel like things could be worse, all things considered."

"Really?" You reply, grabbing your water-logged clothes from the surface. "What makes you say that?"

"I've been on planets with way worse conditions. Crazy lightning storms that will electrify you if you're above ground, ice climates that are so cold humans definitely wouldn't survive for more than 5 minutes outside, planets that are on fire 95% of the time. The list goes on." She shrugs, looking at the water thoughtfully.

"Thanks for not bringing me somewhere I'd be near instantly eviscerated, I guess." You say snidely, and figure it's a good time to dry out your clothes.

You walk back out of the lake at your leisure, holding your sopping wet shirt and jeans. Once you squeeze out as much of the excess water as you can, you lay them out on a rock that's in clear view of the sun so that they can dry. It shouldn't take too long honestly, with this current heat.

You're not facing Spinel as you're doing this, back turned to her. It's pretty quiet, the sounds of wind rustling the trees and insects around you are the only things you can hear. It's peaceful.

"Were ya' ever gonna tell me what happened?" You hear Spinel say from behind you. You turn to face her, and she's floating idly again, but her eyes are trained on you.

"What?" You ask confusedly.

"The scar on your back." She replies.

"Oh." You're a bit surprised. You forget it exists because you can't see it. "Umm.."

"You don't have to tell me if ya' don't want to." She says quickly. Huh. You weren't expecting her to be kind of.. tactful about it.

"It's not that, it's just.." You sigh, and clear your throat before continuing. "It's kind of a long story."

"You could cut out most of the details if ya' don't wanna go into them."

"Yeah. Okay." You feel your body get too warm from standing in the direct sunlight, so you walk back into the water to chill while you wait for your clothes to dry. "Remember how I told you that once I got decent enough from training with Pearl, they let me go on missions with them?"

"Yeah?" She replies, eyes looking up into the sky, trees rustling above you gently.

"One time they let me and Steven go on a small mission alone after I convinced the crystal gems that we'd be fine. It was supposed to be easy."

"How so?"

"It was a simple retrieval mission. We were supposed to get a relic in this temple. In and out, right?" You get up to your shoulders in water, letting the cool water surround you. "Well, turns out it wasn't. We got attacked by these golem monsters because I made a shitty call. They told us to not take any shortcuts and to just take a direct path through, but half the temple had already collapsed years prior to regular wear and decay."

"Why didn't ya' just turn around?" She turns her face towards you, and momentarily you're blinded by her gem sparkling in the sunlight.

"Because I was stupid, and stubborn. It took a lot of pleading to let them let us go on our own. I thought it'd be fine."

"So the scar is from then?" She regards you with a raised eyebrow.

"I jumped out foolishly in an attempt to protect Steven. I mean, protecting him wasn't the foolish part. It was that I ran directly at the golem, and it smacked me aside like a fucking fly. My back slammed into jagged rock, and that's why it looks like this. If it wasn't for Steven's healing powers, I'm not sure I'd be able to walk properly even now."

"How come you seemed so.. sensitive about it when I asked you about it back then?" She inquires thoughtfully.

"Because it brings up everything that happened after. The gems were rightfully pissed. For a while there, they didn't trust me with anything. Told me I couldn't even follow simple instructions to keep a child safe."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. It took.. years after that, to regain their trust. It sucked, not gonna lie. I'll do nearly anything to never have Garnet give me the cold shoulder for a week like that, ever again."

"How did Steven feel about it?"

"He was on my side the entire time, actually. He also thought we could handle it."

"They didn't put any blame on him?"

"He was a kid. I was the adult in charge. They couldn't, really. And even looking back on it now, I wouldn't want them to. It really was my responsibility. I just.. felt kinda useless about it all, you know?"

"I feel like ya' blame yourself a lot for this." She gives you a side eye, her hair floating around her face in the water.

"Maybe. I just feel stupid for reacting that way, when I could've been killed. And for what? Couldn't even protect one kid."

"You're too harsh on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes."

"You're probably right, I hate to admit."

"You think I'm right?" She says as her face lights up in a grin.

"Don't make me regret saying that." You scoff, unable to stop the smile breaking out on your face. "But yeah. I still think about it often, even though it's been years."

"Yeah, I can sorta relate to that." She sighs wistfully, and you watch her float on the surface of the water.

You let your mind drift a bit as the two of you sit in comfortable silence, rays of sunlight pouring through the jungle trees. It's a hot, lazy afternoon, and you could probably fall asleep here if you closed your eyes long enough. After a while, you look over to your clothes on the rock you placed them on, and they look to be dry. Dry enough to wear again, you guess.

"We should probably head back soon." You mumble to her, and she grunts in response a couple seconds later.

You get out of the water begrudgingly, wiping yourself off as best as you can. You make quick work of putting your shirt back on, but you have obvious difficulties with your jeans. Spinel walks over to you as you're getting your other leg in, and you pretend this isn't as difficult as it looks.

"Is putting clothes on that hard for you?" She asks, and you can hear the mockery in her voice.

"Shut up. It's not like you've ever had to put clothes on before." You sneer back at her, and finally button the top of your pants. Phew.

"It can't be that hard. You looked like you were strangling your leg." She grins, placing her hands on her hips smugly.

"Keep that up and I'll strangle you, Spinel." You reply, deadpan. Obviously you don't mean it.

"I'd like to see ya' try." She snickers, and you wish you had your wet shirt in hand again, just to smack her with it.

"You'll eat those words one of these days, I swear." You stick your tongue out at her and spin around to head back to the Spire. You hear her sputter from behind you, and her footsteps as she runs to catch up to you.

"You're kind of prickly, anyone ever tell ya' that?" She says from beside you, keeping up with your leisurely pace. You don't feel like breaking out into a sweat again.

"Nope. Steven says I'm pleasant." You retort. She snorts at that, bringing a fist to her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a bit irritating?"

"Nope! Eh. Wait, maybe Pink did, once." She puts a finger to her lip, biting it in thought. "She honestly couldn't complain though, the other diamonds thought she was such a handful that they gave her me. For entertainment."

"Man, fuck Pink Diamond. All she did was cause Steven problems that he never deserved. She caused problems for literally everybody." You say disdainfully, careful to watch your step on some large roots sticking out of the ground. Spinel looks like she's a bit surprised at your words, but also pleased at them. It does weird things to your chest cavity.

"You can say that again." She says, smiling a little bit. There's some silence for a minute or two as you both are walking, before she decides to say something again. "So.. not to change the topic or anything, but I never really did ask you about your home life? I know you were with the gems, but what about your family? I know humans have biological blood bonds."

"My family is the crystal gems, Spinel." You say to her, and she looks at you in confusion. "I mean, I have parents, sure. I wouldn't call what they did as raising me, though. They fucking suck and I don't care about them. My mother would sell my possessions for drug money and was never home, and my dad's an alcoholic who only cares about his work. They never gave two shits about me as far as I can remember, and they only ever had me as a mistake. They never liked each other. So, when the gems offered me a room to stay, I jumped on that prospect immediately. I've never looked back. I haven't talked to either of my parents in over six years."

"Ouch. Okay, I'm a bit sorry I asked." She replies sheepishly.

"Eh, don't be. It doesn't bother me anymore." You say with a shrug. She looks at you almost like she's concerned, and then dismisses it.

"I'm glad about that, at least." She kind of gives you a wry half-smile, and you continue staring ahead of you. You're almost back to the Spire by now.

You think it's kind of cute that she asks about you. It makes you think.. hm. You clear your throat.

"So.. Spinel."

"Hm?" She replies, meeting your gaze.

"Is it like, in your nature?" You ask her.

"My what?" She raises her eyebrow in response.

"You know.. like a Pearl." God, the look she's giving you right now is so fucking funny that you have to force yourself to not laugh. "They always end up being people pleasers. It's terribly natural for them."

"What the fuck are ya' talking about?" She levels you with a look, stopping in her tracks.

"Trying to be friends with people! You just keep.. asking me stuff to know me better." You reply, stopping as well and turning to face her.

"What.." She trails off, stopping to stare at you. "I'm.. I'm not.." You watch her cheeks tinge a darker pink.

"Are you blushing!?" You blurt out in surprise, and she glares at you. It's not effective whatsoever.

"No!" She hisses through her teeth, and pushes past you.

"You're not very convincing!" You shout at her, and jog to catch up to her.

"Shut up!!!" She turns to see you trailing right behind her, and speeds up tremendously to outpace you.

"Wait! Come back!" You laugh out at her. "I bet you just can't help it!"

"We're done talking about this!!" She shouts from twenty feet in front of you.

"NOT IF I CAN HELP IT!" You shout in response, and run to follow several feet behind her all the way to the Spire, laughing the entire way back.

You haven't smiled this much in weeks.

#spinel x reader #spinel #su #steven universe #distant lands #my fic #sorry for the wait aaaaaaaaaaa #appreciate all patience

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thunders-warcats-stuff · 4 years ago

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A Midnight Stroll

Summary: Canon Divergence fic where Lionheart stops Bluefur from giving up her kits and a few of her problems are solved not long after. Based on the headcanon that Lionheart was Bluestar’s emotional support and her downward spiral gained serious velocity when he died.

Snowflakes drifted from a milk-colored sky to blanket the eerily silent landscape. Thankfully, the entire camp wasn’t covered in the stuff. Bluefur thought. That would make this so much harder.

“Wake up!” She hissed quietly, nudging her kits awake. She got them up and moving with some halfhearted idea of a game that would have them sneak into the forest through the dirtplace tunnel.

“If you wake anyone up, we lose.” She reminded them quietly as the three of them chittered about getting out of camp and the smell of the dirtplace and what could possibly lay outside the camp. Maybe they could see the famous Sunningrocks that everyone fought for!

She pricked her ears for the cat who sired her, knowing the blue-grey tom she inherited her coat from would be guarding the camp tonight. He would be so angry, so disappointed if he discovered them here. As would the cat she truly considered a father.

Sunstar would say he was merely disappointed and likely banish her to the nursery until the kits were six months old. Thistleclaw would become deputy and the whole forest would soon rot under his leadership. At least, according to Goosefeather.

She’d seen what he spoke of in dreams so she believed it to some extent. She just wished it didn’t have to be her.

Mosskit and Stonekit were safely up the ravine by the time she’d gone over her thoughts about this decision but when she looked down to check on Mistykit, her firstborn was nowhere to be found. In her place was a large golden tom with blazing green eyes and extremely thick fur.

“Come here, Bluefur.” Lionheart called in a low solemn tone. “And bring the other two with you.”

Bluefur’s pelt prickled without her permission, making her look twice her size despite the snow that fell on and around her.

“We need to get them out of the cold, Bluefur.” Lionheart insisted. “Whatever this is, we can talk about it later.”

I can’t! She wanted to call out. To wail her sorrow to the stars. To lay down and let the snow cover her until she couldn’t see anything and stay there until she wasn’t part of a prophecy anymore. Until she was just Bluefur, ThunderClan’s grumpiest warrior who laid around until someone called her for a patrol.

She contributed the bare minimum and these kits were going to change that! Finally, she would have something to focus on that didn’t bring pain and heartache with each step. She could live for her kittens and through them, her Clan. She might even become a pleasant cat to be around.

Warmth spread across her left flank and Bluestar was shocked into awareness. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she crouched on the ground with Stonekit and Mosskit squirming under her. Fur that reminded her of the sun filled her vision and eventually, green eyes met hers.

“Step aside, Bluefur.” Lionheart murmured. There was no judgment in his voice. There never was. “We need to get these kits warm.”

Bluefur dug her claws into the ground and squeezed her eyes shut once more, wishing for all the world that she could wake up somewhere else and not have to worry about this. Her best bet, in this cold, would be StarClan. Hopefully, she didn’t take her kits with her.

“None of you will be going anywhere except back to your nest.” Her friend assured her. Bluefur winced, not realizing she’d said that aloud.

She exhaled roughly and stepped aside.

“Don’t let Goosefeather see them.” She mumbled as Lionheart picked up the other two kits in his mouth. “I can carry them.”

“It’s fine.” Lionheart’s voice was muffled but his stance was clear.

He flicked his tail and they scrambled back down the ravine and into camp. It wasn’t long before Bluefur saw Stormtail’s shocked gaze and wide eyes. He started to say something but Lionheart shook his head and flicked his tail to Highrock. Stormtail nodded and padded over to the leader’s den, waiting under the large boulder rather than going inside. Bluefur blinked, stunned, and scrambled after Lionheart when she realized he had kept walking.

The kits didn’t take long to settle down and Bluefur covered them with dry moss from an empty nest to keep them warm and help dry their fur. After a few heartbeats of Bluefur and Lionheart working quietly, the golden tom gestured with a paw to the nursery’s entrance. Bluefur swallowed audibly and nodded, resigned, as she padded back into the coldness that awaited.

Stormtail waited with Sunstar below the Highrock. Their faces were grim and only darkened as she and Lionheart padded across the clearing to meet them.

“Let’s get you dry.” Sunstar murmured with a fierce calm he likely didn’t feel.

The four of them padded into the den and Bluefur sat not far from the entrance. Stormtail bundled her further into the den and then sat beside her, closer than she could ever remember him being before. Lionheart sat on her other side, almost like he was determined to soak up all the snow on her fur. Sunstar sat less than a mouse-length away and only spoke once his tail curled around his paws.

“Explain yourself.” He ordered.

“I…” Bluefur choked out. “I was going to take them to Twolegplace.” She admitted at last.

This was something she’d struggled with ever since she told Oakheart that he had to take them. He’d been so shocked. Utterly stunned. He had to have thought the worst of her them, and Bluefur was selfish enough to admit that she didn’t want her kits to hate her any more than they were already going to. So she told him that he didn’t have to do anything and that the kits would stay with her.

“Why?” Sunstar prompted, voice breaking on the word. “You love those kits. You’ve spent every day since they were born caring for them and watching them grow. Why would you separate them from the only family they’ve ever known?”

What followed were a few tense heartbeats where Bluefur could bring herself to speak.

“She said something about Goosefeather.” Lionheart admitted at last.

“What about him? He’s headed to the elder’s den any day now.” Stormtail sneered. “He should have gone after he got your mother killed-.”

“Do not,” Sunstar spat. “bring up Moonflower here.”

In that moment, Bluefur was thankful. In that moment, she wondered how she could ever betray one of the only cats who’d been there for her throughout her entire life. The second cat who could claim that title let a low growl rumble in his throat.

“He probably said something to her. We should ask what.”

“A prophecy.” Bluefur whispered at last. “There was a prophecy. He said it was mine. ‘Like Fire, You Will Blaze Through The Forest.’ He’s convinced… he thinks Thistleclaw is going to lead the Clan to ruin if he gains enough power.”

“You obviously agree with him.” Stormtail scoffed.

“To an extent.” Bluefur allowed. “There’s no other way to put some of the things he’s done. The way he’s trained Tigerclaw is… jarring, to say the least.”

“They are both very fierce warriors… but what makes you think he would ever become deputy?” Sunstar snorted. “Do you not trust me? Do you not trust this Clan to be there for you? Did you truly think they would have a better life as kittypets?”

“If she’s been influenced by Goosefeather-!”

“Fire must burn without bonds.” Bluefur mumbled.

“Say that again?”

“Goosefeather. He said Fire must burn without bonds. I have to check on my kits. If he wakes up-.”

“He’s going to wake up.” Lionheart growled. “And explain himself. He threatened your kits.”

“Just like he threatened her mother. Just like he’s been stalking her pawsteps all her life-.” Stormtail’s scoff was cut off by his head turning sideways. Bluefur staggered back, leaning more into Lionheart’s flank, and blinked at the scene before her. Sunstar sheathed his claws and tufts of grey fur lay at his paws.

“You do not get to act like you have done a single thing for any of them.” Sunstar growled, sinking into a crouch and creeping forward. As if Stormtail were a squirrel about to be caught in Sunstar’s paws… Bluefur mused. He sure looked like a squirrel.

“You did not mentor them, that was Sparrowpelt and I. You did not make sure they knew you were there for them. Again, that was Sparrowpelt and I. I’m actually rather shocked that you managed to cry at Snowfur’s vigil. Though you moved on quickly enough, I suppose it’s the thought that counts.”

“You-!”

“Raised your daughter for you. You’re welcome. You have no place here and your anger is not for Bluefur. It’s disgust at Goosefeather, same as it’s always been. So now you’re going to sit here and not say another word lest StarClan steal your tongue from you. And make no mistake, Stormtail. I am StarClan, and I will do just that.”

“Sunstar…” Bluefur choked out, astonished.

The ThunderClan leader flattened his fur, sheathed his claws, and smoothed his expression.

“My apologies, Bluefur. Now, what did Goosefeather say to you?”

“‘You are Fire, and you will blaze through the forest.’” Bluefur choked out. “‘But beware, even the most powerful flames can be stroyed by water.’ After the kits were born, he said ‘Fire must burn without bonds.’ He insisted that I… that I get rid of them. I figured he’s been wrong about prophecies before but he’s also been right. This one… he’s right about this one. About how dangerous Thistelclaw is. I just… I thought if I could get my kits away from all this, away from both of them… they’d be safer. I wouldn’t have to worry about them going hungry or being too cold.”

“You wouldn’t have had to worry about that here.” Lionheart offered quietly. “We’re your Clan. This is your home. We’d do anything to defend you just like you’d do for us. That’s what being in a Clan means.”

“I know, and I want that. For myself and for them. I just… Goosefeather insisted, and what if he’s right? What if Thistleclaw is exactly as Goosefeather says?”

“Then that’s my problem to deal with. Bluefur, you’ve been through too much to let Goosefeather take one of the few good things in your life. We can protect you and your kits. But if it helps you sleep at all… Thisteclaw had no chance at being deputy.”

Bluefur’s breath hitched.

“What?” She whispered, not quite believing. “He’s the most obvious choice-.”

“He’s the strongest choice.” Sunstar corrected. “No cat can doubt his courage, battle skills, or his pride in his Clan. But Goosefeather is right this time. I’ve seen it myself. I don’t want my Clan to be led to endless fighting. Our borders are strong enough without being marked over and over in blood. So if it hadn’t been you, it would have been another cat. Perhaps Rosetail or Lionheart. They both have good heads on their shoulders and I would trust either of them to lead the Clan well.”

Lionheart had stiffened at the declaration and dipped his head solemnly.

“Thank you for your faith in me,” The golden tabby meowed. “but it sounds like the prophecy is about Bluefur.”

“I don’t want it.” Bluefur growled. “I thought it was so great when I was younger and first heard it but I’ve lost too much and been far too selfish to ever lead this Clan the way you expect.”

“Which is why you’re going to be deputy.” Sunstar decided.

“Wait-.”

“You can care for your kits in the nursery. Deputies don’t always fight and neither do leaders when they have kits. Others can carry out your orders just as well as you would carry out mine. But if this prophecy, your prophecy, has lost you so much that you were willing to sacrifice motherhood not to lose what you had, there is no choice but to fulfill it.”

“I… Sunstar, I…”

“Nothing has to change overnight except that Goosefeather will head to the elder’s den earlier than he planned. When Tawnyspots formally retires, you will take his place. In the meantime, you will raise your kits. And we will keep you safe.”

Bluefur and Lionheart trudged into the cold once more, bracing themselves against the wind. Stormtail had gone ahead of them and sat at the entrance to the camp, eyes stony and flickering around for any sign of movement. If nothing else, he would be alert for the rest of the night.

“Thank you.” Bluefur sighed halfway to the nursery. “I might not have made it to Twoelgplace in this weather. There was no guarantee they would make it to a nest. And I would have regretted it for the rest of my life.”

“You might still.” Lionheart deadpanned. “I knew what to look for. I’m glad I was able to help this time.”

It hit Bluefur then that Lionheart had been the one to discover Pinestar’s intentions of leaving the Clan. To see something similar happen right before his eyes, with kits no less… Lionheart would have been crushed, and then disappointed that Bluefur hadn’t gone with her kits. Of all the things Bluefur couldn’t handle, Lionheart’s disappointment was high among them.

“Thank you, Lionheart, for reminding me that life is worth living.”

“It is indeed.” Lionheart rumbled. A pleased gleam flashed through his eyes. “Let me get Thrushpelt. We’ll tell everyone you were sleepwalking and the kits followed you.”

“That… yes please. That makes sense.”

Lionheart dipped his head so that his throat rested between Bluefur’s ears.

“You will always have something to live for, Bluefur. I’ll make sure of it.” He vowed.

The golden tabby disappeared as quietly as he’d crept up on her in the ravine, and if Bluefur hadn’t been watching she would have thought he was gone entirely.

She turned and padded over to where Stormtail sat.

“Lionheart agreed to say that I was sleepwalking and the kits followed me.” She offered quietly.

Stormtail inclined his head.

“You did have that problem when you were younger.” He mused. “You went looking for Moonflower as a kit, and later on Snowfur. I imagine, if you really had gone through with your plans, that you would have gone looking for your kits as well.”

Bluefur winced and pushed her nose into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry that Sunstar said what he did. I don’t think you got Moonflower killed-.”

“My negligence and inaction did.” Stormtail asserted. “I was too focused on the wrong part of the battle. Someone should have been there to help Moonflower complete the mission and common belief says it should be me.” Stormtail exhaled roughly. ��If I’d done right by her, it would have been. I cared for your mother, Bluefur. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”

Bluefur nodded, stunned, and they touched noses.

“Goodnight.” She mumbled.

“Goodnight.” He offered solemnly before shifting his gaze elsewhere.

Bluefur padded over to Highrock once more and shifted the lichen to alert Sunstar to her presence.

“Come in.” Sunstar grumbled. The ginger tom was settled on his nest but looked nowhere near sleep. He raised his head when he saw Bluefur.

“I thought you’d gone back to the nursery.”

“Lionheart and I talked for a bit. He and Stormtail agreed to say I was sleepwalking and the kits followed me.”

“Clever.” Sunstar murmured approvingly.

Silence reigned for the next few heartbeats.

“I trust you.” Bluefur said at last. “I always trusted you. Sometimes it felt like you were the only cat I could trust.”

“Not with this, though.”

“You’re the leader of our Clan. I didn’t want you to have to make the same choice I thought I did. I couldn’t bear to lose my kits, Sunstar, but I’m not sure I could bear disappointing you either. Losing you like that, even if we live in the same camp… I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“I have never been disappointed in you.”

“Oh, please-.”

“Sad for you, yes, and there were many times that I felt helpless and wished you would do more than you did. But that wasn’t disappointment, Bluefur. I couldn’t watch you waste away and join StarClan early. I wanted to keep you here for as long as I could, so I tried to get you to go out more. I thought if you felt like you were doing something, if you could see that your contributions mattered to the Clan, that you could get better. I suppose it wasn’t that easy, though.”

“I… I got better, slowly. I have Thrushpelt and Rosetail and Stonepelt Lionheart and you… cats don’t mind being around me, even if they don’t always chat. I would have been fine, I would have…”

Bluefur drifted off, unsure of what to say.

“Alright.” Sunstar agreed. “But I was never disappointed. And you should not have had to choose between your kits and your Clan. Goosefeather will get what he wants, but it will not be at the cost of your well-being.”

“Thank you.” Bluefur murmured. “You were the best mentor a cat could ask for.”

“Stonepelt won’t want to hear that.” Sunstar chuckled. “You should get back to your kits. And try to get some sleep. I imagine waking up in the middle of a storm would be frustrating for any cat, but it’ll all look better in the morning.”

She touched her nose to Sunstar’s cheek and held it there for a few heartbeats. When she got back to the nursery, she found Thrushpelt curled around the kits.

“Lionheart came and got me.” He murmured when he saw her. “And the kits said something about a game?”

“I guess I said something I shouldn’t have.” Bluefur offered guiltily.

“I thought you were getting better with this.” Thrushpelt murmured as Bluefur slipped into the space he left for her. “You stopped looking for Moonflower and Snowfur.”

“I guess not.” Bluefur admitted. “Or maybe it just happens when I have nightmares. I’m sorry I took the kits with me.”

“You weren’t exactly controlling yourself.” Thrushpelt offered, resting his throat between her ears. “Try and get some sleep, Bluefur. This should all look better in the morning.”

Bluefur sighed and curled around her kits and let herself hope that Thrushpelt and Sunstar and Lionheart were right. She hoped that StarClan wouldn’t be too angry with her for breaking their prophecy, but she couldn’t give up her kits. They were what she had to live for.

#bluestar's mental health was shot: the series #warrior cats stand up a midnight stroll #warrior cats stand up

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mca-attack21 · 6 years ago

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Wolf Moon Part 1

A/N: Part 1 of the Stiles Sis Fic series based on Season 1 Episode 1. I am writing the entire series out of order (because some episodes are just easier than others). In general, it follows the outline of the show with an added plotline for the reader. And as always, I appreciate your comments and feedback. Check out the rest, and my other imagines here.

“Y/n, get ready we have to go,” Stiles demanded as he burst into your bedroom.

“Go where Stiles? It’s late and we have school tomorrow...as in the first day of sophomore year,” you replied rolling your eyes.

“We are going to Scott’s house,” he answered throwing your shoes and jacket at you.

“Stiles, we were at Scott’s earlier,” you groaned.

“Yes but earlier, there wasn’t a call on the police scanner that said two joggers found a body in the woods, was there?” he remarked pulling out his phone to call Scott.

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You rushed to put on your jacket and follow him out to Roscoe. This was going to be an interesting night, and you were all for it.

Scott still hadn’t answered his phone, so Stiles came up with a plan to gain his attention. Knowing that the plan was devised by your brother, it was overly complicated. So you decided to sit back and watch. Stiles refused to just knock on the door, he couldn’t ring the doorbell like a normal person. No, he decided to climb up to Scott’s room. You saw Scott come out on his porch with a bat and then Stiles fell down. Scott almost clobbered him with the bat. They both shrieked like little girls.

Scott finally yelled, “Stiles what the hell are you doing?”

This is when you decided to make your entrance. “You weren’t answering your phone,” you mocked your brother.

Stiles shot you a dirty look for that comment, but soon remembered his purpose, “Dude, you won’t believe this. My dad left 20 minutes ago. Dispatch called, they are bringing in every Beacon Hills officer and even the State Police” he recalled.

“For what?” Scott asked.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods” Stiles replied.

“A dead body?” Scott asked in disbelief.

“No, a body of water, yes Scott, a dead body” Stiles answered sarcastically.

“So like murder?” Scott questioned.

“They don’t know yet, just that is was a girl in her twenties.” Stiles clarified.

“So if they have the body, what are they looking for?” Scott reasoned.

“That’s the best part, they only found half…we’re going!” Stiles declared.

You laughed at his eagerness and then waited for Scott to get ready. The three of you headed to the woods. When suddenly it dawned on you. “Hey Stiles, do we know which half of the body we are looking for?” you asked.

“Oh, I didn’t even think of that.”

“Yeah, and what if the murderer is still out there and we run into them?” Scott questioned.

“I didn’t think of that either. We can take my bat.”

“Yeah, cause that’ll save us,” you say rolling your eyes, “Another well thought out plan by Stiles Stilinski.”

It wasn’t long before Stiles pulled into the preserve. “Are we really doing this?” Scott asked as the three of you exited the jeep.

“Come on man, you are the one who always complaining that nothing ever happens in this town,” Stiles answered.

“I just wanted to get a good night's sleep before tryouts and school tomorrow” Scott explained double-checking that he had his inhaler.

“Right! Because sitting on the bench takes sooo much effort,” Stiles quipped.

“Stiles! stop being such an ass, he plays more than you do,” you shot back.

“It’s fine, I’ll bet you that not only do I play more than you this year, but I will make first line,” Scott challenged.

“That’s a good one Scott. I mean I guess everyone should have dreams even if they are pathetically unrealistic,” Stiles answered.

“Okay, change of topic,” you announced having heard enough of the ‘alpha male’ fight for one night, “Stiles where are we going?” you asked as he started to lead you up a hill. You decided to go last, so Scott wouldn’t be left behind when he needed to use his inhaler.

“Just a little further, we are almost there,” Stiles urged.

“Stiles, how the hell do you know where we are going? The police don’t even know where they are going,” Scott demanded.

“I have a feeling,” Stiles remarked.

“I have a feeling” you mocked under your breath, which earned a laugh from Scott.

Stiles suddenly took off at a sprint yelling for you and Scott to follow him. But Scott was in the process of using his inhaler and you had the only other flashlight. When the two of you went to follow Stiles you saw that he had been caught by your dad. You hid in a ditch and listened in. “Where are your usual partners in crime?” your dad interrogated.

“What? You mean Scott and Y/n? They didn’t come. They were too worried about school tomorrow” Stiles answered, “It’s just me in the woods, alone…”

Your dad flashed the light around to confirm that you and Scott weren’t there. And then he left, walking Stiles back to the Jeep. You and Scott sat there a minute and then started to head to the main road. The only problem was that it was now much darker than it had been when you arrived and everything was starting to blend together.

“Do you think we should split up?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know, I mean we don’t know what is out there and we only have one flashlight,” you answered taking a mental note to pound Stiles later for leaving the two of you out here in the dark.

“Okay here is the deal, we can’t be that far from the road. So you walk sixty paces that way and I’ll walk sixty paces this way,” Scott said gesturing. “Then we turn around and come back. We will meet here by this,” he continued, sticking a stick into the ground.

You reluctantly agreed and started walking. After about twenty paces you regret your decision. It was scary before, but at least you weren’t alone. Alone. That was a weird concept. For as long as you could remember Stiles or Scott had been by your side. But now it was just you. And the ½ of a dead body. And the animals. And potentially the murderer. ‘That’s it, this is how I’m going to die’ you thought. Suddenly you heard noises. You secretly hoped it was your dad and his deputies. You were entirely willing to get grounded if it meant that you would get out of this nightmare any sooner. But instead it was a herd of deer that came racing towards you. You screamed trying to run away from them. But one of them collided into you knocking you down. You had no choice but to lay there and wait, hoping not to get trampled.

Scott faintly heard your scream and started towards your direction. He tripped and face planted into the cold ground. When he looked up, he was met with the face of the dead girl. He shot backward and rolled down the ravine, losing his inhaler. As he tried to find it and regain his composure, he heard a low growl. Before he could react something had bit his side. He sprinted away trying to escape whatever it was that attacked him. Without realizing it, he had sprinted into the road and was nearly hit by a car. He pulled his maroon hoodie up to look at the bite, it was already bleeding. Scott then started to walk back towards town. He was lost in his thoughts wondering what the hell just happened when his phone rang. It was a call from you. He answered without hesitation. “Y/n, are you okay? I’m on the road. Where are you?” he asked concern filling his voice.

“Scott I’m fine, I just made it out to the road too. I called Stiles, he is on his way. Just stay put okay?” you answered.

“Okay I’ll see you in a bit” he answered. Scott wanted to tell you what had just happened. He was scared and he knew you would know the right thing to say, but he couldn’t. Not tonight, he could tell by the shakiness in your voice that you had already been through enough.

It wasn’t long before he was greeted by the familiar sight of that baby blue jeep. He had never been so relieved to see Roscoe. You were already in the backseat fast asleep. The car ride back was dead silent. It wasn’t that Scott was mad at Stiles, he was just scared. And his side hurt. And he had school tomorrow. And….before he knew it he was home. He went upstairs and pulled his sweatshirt up again. It looked disgusting. He debated whether or not to tell his mom. After all, it could be infected or whatever did it could’ve been carrying a disease. But at the end of the day, he didn’t want to explain how it happened. It couldn’t really be that bad, right? So he flooded it in peroxide and bandaged it up before attempting to go to sleep.

Stiles carried you up to your room and laid you carefully in your bed. He felt so bad for leaving you and Scott out there. But at least you were home now, safe and sound. He took your shoes off and tucked you under your blankets. He went to his room and changed into his pajamas, head racing. There had been a dead body in Beacon Hills. Everything was about to change.

#teen wolf #teenwolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf imagine #teenwolf imagines #teenwolf imagine #scott mccall imagine #scott mccall imagines #scott imagine #scott x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles imagine #stiles imagines #stilesxreader #stilinski imagines #stiles x reader #stiles #stilessisfif #stiles sis fic

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oldwarriors-fireandwater · 6 years ago

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Bonus Chapter - Bluefur’s Choice

“Have you ever seen a shooting star?”

Bluefur glanced sharply at Oakheart. “Have I what?” she asked.

Oakheart laughed softly. “You know… a shooting star.”

It was late into the night, and the pair were sitting under the stars. They had been meeting together at the edge of their territories for a moon now. Some nights they hung around Sunningrocks, using the ever-changing border markers to their advantage, while other nights they wandered along the path towards Fourtrees. Tonight, however, they were curled up under a young maple tree. It was in a poorly-patrolled part of the territories - just over the ThunderClan border, but still across the bridge from RiverClan land. Oakheart said that it was rare for patrols to cross the bridge to properly check things out, and it was unlikely anyone would notice they had stolen away there before their scents had faded.

Truthfully, Bluefur wasn’t sure why she kept coming. Everything about their meetings was wrong, and she knew it. She had been able to justify it at first; simply telling herself that it was an innocent friendship with a bumbling tom and nothing else. But the more she came, and the more she talked, the more she knew that she was lying to herself. Oakheart was nothing like her Clanmates - he was carefree, funny, kind, warm… and his handsome looks didn’t hurt.

Sometimes, Bluefur tried to stay away. But even in the nights that she avoided him, she would dream of his kind smile and his warm amber eyes, and she would find herself back with him again. Bluefur kinked her tail, feeling a rush of warmth. I know this is wrong, she thought. But I’ve never felt like this before… how can I ignore what I feel?

Oakheart pawed gently at her. “Well?” he meowed, bringing her back out of her thoughts.

Bluefur rolled her eyes. “No, Oakheart, I’ve never seen a shooting star.” She flipped her tail and looked up towards the sky. “Aren’t they supposed to be… rather sad? I’ve always heard they happen when a StarClan warrior dies.”

Oakheart just smiled and chuckled. “I guess,” he replied. “But we always say that if you make a wish when it goes by, the warrior might grant it as their last dying gift to the Clans.”

Bluefur snorted loudly. Typical RiverClanner! His head is full of silly stories. “Sounds like a tale for kits.”

Oakheart just rolled over onto his back and laughed. “Oh, you’re no fun!” He stared up at the stars, belly-up. “Are all ThunderClan cats buzzkills like you?”

“Hey!” Bluefur protested. “I’m not a buzzkill!”

“Oh yeah?” Oakheart rolled back over and leaped up quickly. A mischievous glint was in his eyes. “Prove it!”

Bluefur let out a mock growl and exploded forward. She knocked the plump tom off his paws, and the two went rolling and tumbling through the grass. They batted at each other with soft blows and nipped playfully as they wrestled.

Eventually, Bluefur came out on top, and she slammed her paws down on Oakheart’s chest to pin him. “Now who’s a buzzkill?” she challenged.

Oakheart did not reply. He hung limp in her grasp, eyes closed.

Bluefur’s pelt bristled with worry. “Oakheart?” she meowed. “Oakheart!” She moved to get off of him. “Did I actually hurt you?”

“Ha!” Oakheart kicked her in the side and knocked her over. “Gotcha!”

“Oh, for StarClan’s sake!” Bluefur exclaimed, as she collapsed onto her back. She swiped at him from the ground, and neither made any move to get up. “You’re such an annoying furball.”

Oakheart flashed a toothy smile. “But a handsome annoying furball, right?”

Bluefur groaned loudly. “You RiverClan cats are so full of yourselves.” She glanced away bashfully, feeling her ears grow warm. He is handsome, though.

Oakheart chuckled and shifted to move closer to her. She turned over to face him, and wordlessly, they curled up around each other again. Bluefur buried her muzzle in his shoulder, and breathed in his scent. I wish I could be like this with someone else, she thought. But there’s no one I’d rather be with than you.

---

Bluefur came crashing back into reality one cold morning. Goosefeather had practically dragged her out of camp, snarling wordlessly with rage. At first, she thought the old medicine cat was just having another one of his strange moody spells, but when he had led her far away from camp, he whirled upon her, spittle flying from his jaws as he snapped at her.

Bluefur stepped back, hackles rising with surprise and indignation. “Get away from me!” she snapped. “You drag me out into the frost without a word and now you try to bite me?”

Goosefeather’s eyes were wild. “You IDIOT!” he roared. “Did you think you were above the consequences? Did you think you could escape your destiny?”

Bluefur stumbled back, startled by the ferocity of his yowl. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

“What am I talking about? What am I talking about?” Goosefeather paced back and forth, his tail whipping about like a maddened snake. “You! Your betrayal!” He stopped to face her and jabbed a paw towards her belly. “Your kits!”

Kits? Bluefur blinked. No, no, I’m not… I don’t have… She felt dizzy. Kits?

Goosefeather curled his lip. “Don’t deny it!” he snarled. “You may have been ignoring it, but I see! I see! Your spawn don’t belong in this Clan.”

Bluefur snapped back to attention and drew herself up. “How dare you?” she snarled. “My kits—” the word was almost painful to say— “They are ThunderClan!”

“Not all ThunderClan,” Goosefeather countered. His eyes glittered triumphantly as Bluefur took a shaky step back. “Don’t try and lie! I know the truth. You cannot hide it from me. Get rid of them, get rid of them…”

Bluefur’s mind was spinning. She had hardly had a chance to fully acknowledge the weight of being a mother before Goosefeather started rambling about getting rid of her unborn kits. A fierce feeling of anger came over her. “They are mine,” she spat. “Not yours! You have no right to tell me what to do.”

Goosefeather shook his head. “Fool! Tawnyspots’ death is coming… it won’t be long! No, no. Thistleclaw cannot be deputy…” he took a step forward, teeth bared. He lifted a paw, claws unsheathed. “And you cannot have those kits.”

Bluefur’s eyes widened as Goosefeather made a clumsy swipe towards her. He’s trying to attack me! She retaliated with a blow towards his face, but kept her claws sheathed. She struck him across the ears and the old medicine cat stumbled back, hissing with fury. Bluefur turned away and ran blindly into the territory.

What is wrong with him? She swerved around a bush. He would have hurt me if he wasn’t so weak! He would have hurt my kits. An instinctive rush of protectiveness burned through her. Nothing will hurt them! They are mine!

---

Bluefur returned to camp by racing down into the ravine. Stones scattered beneath her paws, and a great number of cats glanced sharply at her as she careened into camp. I don’t care what they think! I just need to be around my Clan so Goosefeather can’t try and attack me again.

She muttered quick apologies to the few cats that questioned her and retreated towards the warriors’ den. I need to rest, she told herself. I just need a rest.

Bluefur ducked into the warriors’ den, which was thankfully empty, but hardly a heartbeat after she had entered, Thrushpelt padded in after her. She stopped in her nest and glanced sharply at him. What is it now?

Thrushpelt looked concerned. “Goosefeather came stumbling back into camp raving about how you were having kits.” He flicked his tail. “Rosetail just congratulated me on being a father.”

What? Bluefur’s eyes widened. I should have come straight back to camp! Now he’s gone and blathered to everyone already… and Rosetail! How could she? We aren’t mates! She straightened up, trying to retain some composure. “I’m sorry,” she meowed. “I didn’t… I never told her we were mates.”

Thrushpelt looked away. There was a distant, sad look in his eyes. “I know,” he meowed. “I didn’t either, in case you thought I had. No matter how I felt, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Bluefur looked down at her paws as she felt a stab of guilt. Oh, Thrushpelt… why couldn’t it have been you? She knew he had been padding after her for moons now, but the kind tom was always respectful. It didn’t surprise Bluefur that some cats, especially the overly-romantic Rosetail, would assume she had decided to settle down with him after all. “I’m sorry,” she meowed.

“Don’t apologize,” Thrushpelt replied. He sat down, blocking the entrance to the den. “I would never want to force you to feel something you didn’t. But…” he lifted his gaze. He lowered his voice. “I’m here for you. If you… well, if you want some cat to claim those kits as their father… I could.”

Bluefur glanced back up at him. “I can’t ask you to do that.” She shook her head. “And I won’t pretend to be your mate, Thrushpelt.”

Thrushpelt blinked. “You don’t need to pretend. We can just say we decided to have kits together—nothing more. Simply as friends. And I know you aren’t the sort of cat who wants to sit around the nursery until they’re apprenticed… I can watch them and raise them too.” His expression was sympathetic. “I’m sure there’s a reason you haven’t mentioned the father. I don’t care about all that. You don’t even have to tell me who they are. But I care about you, and I would proudly raise your kits as my own.”

Bluefur was silent for a long while. She was touched by Thrushpelt’s offer. I wish Oakheart could raise them with me, she thought. But that will never be possible. Thrushpelt would give them the chance to have a real father. She dipped her head. “Alright, Thrushpelt. Thank you. This means more to me than you know.”

Thrushpelt beamed. “Of course,” he replied. He gave his chest an embarrassed lick. “You know, I’ve… well, I’ve always wanted to be a father.” He stood up and turned towards the exit. With a glance over his shoulder, he asked, “Do you mind if I tell the Clan?”

Bluefur shrugged. “Go ahead,” she meowed. He’s more excited about these kits than I am. What kind of mother am I going to be? She wished she could share his excitement, but she only felt tired as she flopped down into her nest. Worry pricked at her. What if they don’t believe us when they’re born? She wondered. What if they hate these kits? Oh, StarClan… why did you have to punish me like this?

---

Bluefur gazed tiredly at her three tiny newborns. Her labor had been blessedly short, and Thrushpelt had been there to encourage her. She had initially expected to grow sick of his company, but they had grown closer throughout the time of her residency in the nursery. He brought her fresh-kill and soft bedding like any good father-to-be would do, and talked with pride about how great his kits were going to be.

One of the kits, a gray tom, was searching for milk. Still blind and deaf, he nosed aimlessly towards her. Bluefur smiled fondly and nosed him towards her belly. She was alone in the nursery at last—White-eye had taken her kits out while Bluefur was kitting, the medicine cats had let her be, and Thrushpelt was out hunting for her.

Just me and my kits. Bluefur curled her tail around them. She allowed her eyelids to droop. They were hardly bigger than mice, but she could already imagine them growing bigger, running around camp, starting their training… And they’ll have Thrushpelt to support them. She purred quietly. Maybe things will be okay.

---

Bluefur watched as Stonekit pounced on Mistykit. The two rolled over, yowling and swiping, while Mosskit was across camp with Birchkit and Mousekit, who were playing with a ball of moss. Snow had settled across camp, and though she worried about her kits catching colds, she knew they loved to play in it.

She flicked her tail and yawned softly. I wonder who their mentors will be. It was still far-off, as the kits were hardly older than a moon old, but she couldn’t help but be curious. Maybe Whitestorm will be able to mentor one of them. Bluefur smiled fondly. He’s always been patient. Even if he doesn’t mentor one of my kits, I hope he gets an apprentice soon.

“Bluefur.”

The hiss made her flinch. Bluefur looked over to see Goosefeather slinking towards her. The old medicine cat’s eyes were blazing with anger. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Watching my kits,” she retorted. “What are you doing? Don’t you have a deputy to care for?” Tawnyspots was ill again. The aging deputy was in and out of the medicine cats’ den, and every bout of illness seemed to last longer and weaken him more.

Goosefeather lashed his tail. “That’s exactly what I’m here about,” he snapped. “He will die. He will not survive the sickness this time… even now he lives with a paw in StarClan.”

Bluefur felt her heart clench with sadness for the old deputy. He had always been a kind Clanmate. But she narrowed her eyes at Goosefeather regardless. “And?” she asked. “Are you bringing me to say goodbye to him?”

“Don’t play stupid,” Goosefeather spat. “You know why I’m here. This is your last chance to follow your destiny, Bluefur. Get rid of your whelps and save ThunderClan. You must.” Goosefeather turned away with another lash of his matted tail and hurried towards his den.

Bluefur’s grief for Tawnyspots was replaced by raw fury. How dare he? He can’t tell me to get rid of my kits!

But then her gaze settled on Thistleclaw. The massive tom was sharing fresh-kill with Tigerclaw, his old apprentice. Thistleclaw’s eyes were gleaming. “Have you heard?” he meowed. “Old Tawnyspots is heading for StarClan.”

Tigerclaw’s whiskers twitched. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Thistleclaw straightened up, a wild grin on his face. “Soon it will be my turn to lead this Clan.”

Tigerclaw nodded eagerly. “I will be by your side the whole time.”

Bluefur felt cold. She swallowed and sat up. “Stonekit!” she called. “Mistykit! Mosskit!”

It took a few moments, but the kits came scampering towards her. Stonekit leaped for her tail while Mistykit came barreling into her paws. Mosskit trotted up, eyes bright. “Yes, mama?”

“Time for a nap,” Bluefur meowed, trying to keep a light tone. What if Goosefeather is right? She wondered. What if I am meant to lead ThunderClan? Before her kits could erupt in protest, she whisked them all into the nursery. “No arguments,” she meowed. “It’s cold out, and you’re too young to play for so long in the snow.”

Bluefur laid down in her nest and waited for her kits to settle in around her. There were a few irritable grumbles, but eventually, each kit fell asleep. Bluefur pulled them in as close as she could and leaned in to breathe in their scents. Goosefeather says Thistleclaw will lead ThunderClan down a path of blood. She clenched her eyes shut and laid her head down. But how can I get rid of my kits?

Oakheart would care for them. The thought made her blink her eyes open again. He said it before. He told me that he would be happy to raise them… but could I do that? Send my kits to live in an enemy Clan? Bluefur’s stomach swirled.

I don’t know what’s right. How can I choose between my Clan and my kits?

---

Bluefur woke one night, a few sunsets later. It was snowing and silent. She sat up slowly and looked down at her kits. Everything is in place, she thought. Oakheart is going to meet me tonight by the river. It’s frozen, so… there’s no way they could drown. There’s a queen who can nurse a few more kits.

Bluefur glanced towards White-eye. Birchkit and Mousekit were curled up at her side. How would they react when they heard her kits were missing? Mistykit and Mousekit were practically inseparable. And Birchkit loved to lead them around camp, bossing them all around like he was the leader of the kits.

How would Thrushpelt feel? Bluefur knew he loved the kits more than anything. Stonekit adored him and followed him all over camp.

Her gaze settled on Mosskit. Oh, sweet Mosskit… the little kit was so kind and thoughtful. Would she recover from such a shocking change in scenery? Would she even enjoy swimming?

Bluefur felt dizzy. She clenched her teeth. What am I doing? How can I do this to my kits? They need me. I can’t turn them away for the sake of Goosefeather’s rambling. She glanced down towards her kits. They were still asleep, blissfully unaware of her plan to take them away.

No.

Bluefur settled down and licked Mistykit’s head firmly. No. I won’t. I can’t. These are my kits, and they need me. They need Thrushpelt. She lowered her chin and settled it on her paws. I’m sorry, Oakheart. I hope you don’t wait for too long. And… Bluefur closed her eyes. StarClan, if you can hear me… please watch over ThunderClan. If Goosefeather is right… please forgive me. I cannot abandon my children. Not even for leadership.

#bonus chapter #bluefur #bluestar #warrior cats #wc au #warriors rewrite #warriors: fire and water

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insomniaticgoblin · 3 years ago

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okay being sick and having one of those ultra-vivid sleep paralysis dreams is not a fun experience - do not recommend - just nope.

I was starting to feel better but tonight i feel like crap, and now even more so and like the world has been tilted on its axis and moved two degrees to the left.

I haven't had an ultra vivid sleep paralysis dream in a while - like, a long while. which is fine, it's good, except it's not because I don't feel good.

the dream was fairly simple but it was like real life mixed with Minecraft - like some parts of the world were real and others were just - Minecraft blocks but in High Definition.

this is a long post so I'm going to put a "keep reading" line below. and sorry if it doesn't make sense. I'm kinda just gonna write it to help ground myself and I don't think I'll bother with rereading it.

the dream started with me playing myself and I was in what was basically a small apartment but I called it a hotel room despite it being connected to some sort of facility - the facility looked like a fancy hotel but it was actually a hospital? idk man, it was weird.

there was some fairly normal stuff going on - just me hanging out in the bedroom area waiting for something. then it jumped to a small get together between staff and patients - tho it was in my room which idk why - I even questioned it in the dream [one of the perks of vivid dreaming]. apparently the get-together was just that - people getting together for an activity - and this activity was watching Minecraft Spongebob explore Minecraft Bikini Bottom, and I mean that literally.

like in my dream, the concept of a Spongebob cartoon existed but it was an MC youtuber-esque person who played this "Spongebob" character that lived in a Minecraft-Bikini Bottom mash up world. It was weird.

anyway, eventually I got tired of socializing after one of the nurses (though she didn't dress in scrubs, she was just in normal clothes) was asking the others if they should hook up the other Nether portal. Apparently, everyone each had their own portal (some had two like myself).

I went back to my bedroom to hang out by myself, as I do, then decided I had to go to the bathroom, as one occasionally has to do. I opened the bathroom door and the first thing I noticed was that it was broken - like someone had kicked it in in order to steal from me. I questioned this. then I questioned the bathroom itself.

it was still a bathroom but it was like the back wall was a greenhouse, but one that had barely survived a bad storm - like a couple windows were broken, there was a tree branch poking through one small section of the greenhouse wall, there were branches piled up on the outside and the plants inside were messed up.

I questioned this because: A) the backwall wasn't a normal solid backwall and was instead a greenhouse wall when I knew it should be a normal backwall; and B) we were several stories above the ground so how in the heck could branches be piled up outside.

then I heard a weird scratching chattery noise, looked up, and saw a red tailed hawk except it had black soulless eyes. It was wrong - bad vibes all around. I noped the fuck outta there and went to my grandpa to tell him that our bathroom door was busted.

he then, like a normal irl adult, was a bit angered ["Who broke our door?! Did someone try to steal from us?!"]. I tried to caution him against going into the bathroom but he burst in anyway, then I tried to tell him about the hawk but he ignored me - or it was more he was like a normal dream person and thought everything was Normal and Not Weird, as dream people often do.

he inspected a corner of the room for damage while I stood in the doorway because hey, bad vibes, ain't going in there again, just nope.

the hawk started moving and making that strange scratching chattery sound, then it got into the room. I tried to tell my grandpa to look out but he ignored me again. then. it changed into a man. except it wasn't a normal human man.

the man was old, ancient even - both in looks and spirit - and he stood like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. his eyes were hallow, just black endless pits that stared right into your soul, judging you. when he spoke, it was low and with a creak like a forest of ancient trees blowing in the wind, but it was also dry like a vast desert under the burning sun and there is no water, no life, for hundreds of miles.

his presence sent chills down my spine. he was just standing there passively and yet, I was terrified.

he spoke to me, told me to follow him, told me there's a place I need to go to, that there's a secret that needs to be uncovered.

I was helpless, I could not disobey.

so, I followed him.

and he led me to an underground canyon - one that was as dark as hit eyes and colder than the vacuum of space. it was a massive ravine with all kinds of resource blocks [Minecraft section of the world now], the most prominent being diamonds - the diamond ore blocks lined the walls of the canyon in groups of 3-6 (on the surface) and they were cast in a gentle glow.

I asked him - where did you bring me? why am I here?

he told me to protect the secret here and that I was chosen specially for the job. he told me to follow and -

I came back to myself in the hallway of the facility, confused and disoriented. I remembered the old man and the canyon but I have no idea why I was there or what he wanted from me. I was also not who I originally was - I was now in the body of another, someone genderless but still human in appearance, and my short brown hair was long and turning grey.

I became distraught over the missing memory and the change in appearance.

two men, both residents of this facility, came up to me and started asking me questions. they were rude, demanding for answers and information about the secrets I've seen, about the canyon.

I questioned how they knew of the canyon and why they wanted to know the secrets of it - my secrets. when they refused to tell me, and then threatened me with violence when I didn't tell them, I broke away from them and ran.

I was scared again, but it wasn't the same type of fear I had felt when the ancient man first revealed himself to me.

I ran into a friend after some time of running through the halls and they walked with me to help calm me down. she didn't question why I looked different, only commented that "this skin is a better fit of your soul."

we eventually crossed paths with one of the councilors employed at the facility, but she wasn't the one I normally visit. she was thin and short, muted tones to both her complexion and hair. she wore a simple grey blouse with a brown pencil skirt. she was quiet, gentle, and her eyes were sad like she'd seen one too many tragedies in all her years of life.

- very unlike my councilor who was vibrant and bubbly. he lived like he didn't have a care in the world, like the world was good and everyone living in it were his friends. his smile rivaled the sun in both brilliance and warmth. his favorite color was the bright green of the slime cubes in Minecraft. [*side note, he actually kinda reminded me of solidaritygaming (minecraft youtuber)] [also, my councilor never appeared in person in the dream, only as a thought and an image in my head]

I was still distraught and had to talk to someone, and it may as well be this other councilor even though I wanted to see mine instead.

the three of us went into her office and she asked me what the problem was, what was bothering me. I couldn't find the words so I started pacing, thinking of how I wanted to word my thoughts. she and my friend sat patiently, waiting.

when I finally found the words, I opened my mouth to speak - I swear I'm not crazy but I had this weird experience from -

my friend interrupted me, apologizing for doing so, and stood. she was cautious, suspicious, and past me to a locker cabinet against the wall. she found a recorder inside and questioned it, why was it here? who's trying to listen in on our conversation?

the councilor was just as questioning and asked for the recorder. she looked it over and found there were several files already on it. she pushed play on the device and we sat around her desk, listening.

the first four files were fairly normal, though, they were broken bits of conversation. the fourth one referenced someone named or nicknamed "Tango". and the fifth one - it was unnerving. the fifth file had two voices - one voice was low in tone and confused, questioning; the second voice was the same person but as if they'd been grinding sand and gravel in their teeth and their throat had been scorched. in both voices of the same man, he spoke in a language not of this world.

the fifth file played to the end and -

I found myself in another time, a different place, but still in the same genderless body, my hair was fully grey now. I felt years older, tired and world-weary but confident and fearless. I was wearing a simple outfit - a black long-sleeved shirt that clung to my skin, dark green denim pants that were a bit loose and tucked into my worn combat boots. it was an outfit that I could fight in.

my friend stood at my side, though she looked different. she had been tall before but now, they barely half my height, and petite. their dark hair was white and they were dressed in a simple silvery blue dress and sandals. their eyes were opened to the secrets of the world.

"this skin fits your soul," I told them. they smiled at me and it was warm, like sunlight streaming down over an open field of wildflowers in spring.

they thanked me and told me that flattery wouldn't get me out of negotiations - we have a job to do and a war to prevent.

[*more Minecraft-Real Life mash up] I agreed and we walked across a barren landscape that reminded me of the bastions of the Nether. Piglin-Human hybrids watched us pass, their eyes narrow and suspicious. we came to a fortress, broken and ancient, made of gilded blackstone.

there, we were led to the owner of the fortress, the ruler of the barren land.

she was in the forge, a good two feet taller than the average man and twice as thick. she was hardened from years of working in the forge, and scarred from the battles she had seen. she wore the traditional outfit that a Minecraft weapon smith wears, and she had soot staining her clothes and skin.

she, unlike her subjects, was human.

we greeted her with blessings and she laughed. she asked us in her rough voice what we thought we were doing here and why she shouldn't run us through with her sword. we told her that we want to bring peace and mend the tears between our kingdoms. [*this is where real me, outside of the dream, is now like "wot" "since when do I have a kingdom?"]

she laughed again, full and hearty. but nonetheless, she agreed to negotiate a peace treaty with us.

- and this is where I woke up. there was a bit with a spa at the end of the dream but I don't really remember it. honestly, this whole dream was kinda weird but it wasn't all-together bad. and I know it seems like it was really long due to the length of this post but the dream itself wasn't very long at all - I was only asleep maybe about an hour.

and when I woke up, I was a bit disoriented, as per usual when I have a vivid dream, but I think after writing this out, I'm doing better. I had some ice cream while writing and I'm not coughing as much which is nice. still a bit sick tho which sucks.

anyway, that's all. I'm gonna go watch some youtube or something. bye!

#dreams #minecraft mentioned #vivid dreams

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imsarabum · 8 years ago

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{PART 12} I Won’t Stop You (M) // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; After the best and worst day of your life to date, you find yourself back at Jungkook’s Manor. You hope your first night there will be a quiet and uneventful one; but Jungkook has other ideas in mind.

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

Warning: This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature.

{Part 1} // {Part 11} {Part 12} {Part 13}

Jungkook swiftly took careful strides into your bathroom – being cautious not to cause the door to creak in fear that he would disturb your slumber. Wasting no time at all, Jungkook stealthily located the main water inlet in your bathroom, which was right underneath your wash-basin.

“Here goes…” he whispered, before wrapping his right hand around the connection valve; loosening it slightly, and applying little to no pressure. Thanks to his impressive, other-worldly strength, he caused a superior crack to form in the old metal, which left an insane flow of water in his wake. Leaving the bathroom door wide open, he made his way back into the main area of your apartment – looking over his shoulder to observe you still deeply lost in the land of nod. Repeating the same actions under your kitchen sink, Jungkook stood back; taking a good look at his handiwork.

“Forgive me, (Y/N)…but you aren’t safe here. I need to get you as far away from Yoongi as possible” he grimaced, also feeling apologetic to whoever lived underneath your apartment. For in roughly an hour’s time, he suspected you would get confused, angry and rather wet neighbours coming up to complain. As the water began to quickly make itself at home on your run-down, wooden floorboards, Jungkook took it upon himself to lift anything that could be water-damaged – including your broken shoes, along with his own.

“Very clever, your Highness…although I’m not a fan of H2O myself…” Mugsy – who was now perched on top of one of your bookcases, informed Jungkook.

“Do not be afeared feline~ I don’t plan to leave you to perish in the ravine” Jungkook replied back with a crooked smirk on his face, before creeping back over to your sleeping form on the sofa and gently nestling himself back down beside you – as if he had never left your side.

Jungkook found it almost impossible to take his eyes off you, watching your dormant expression as he felt your breath hit his face. “You still smell of merlot and blood…” he thought, gingerly inching his body closer into yours. He smiled to himself, observing how even in dim lighting, you looked like an entire galaxy of the most radiant stars to him. Jungkook found it incredibly difficult to contain himself being in such close quarters with you – wanting nothing more than to wake you up in the most beautiful way imaginable. He wished to press his chest into yours and explore your body with his – and as he took it upon himself to glide his hand down your side before letting his gentle grip rest on your hip-bone; he almost lost himself entirely.

“You have no idea…what you do to me, (Y/N)” he growled to himself, taking in your scent, your subtle movements from your breathing, and the way your lips slightly parted themselves as you slept. While his mind became filled with explicit thoughts about you, he also imagined how wonderful it would be to just spend the night with you like this. Just two, normal people in love with each other, and you lying in his arms – but he knew that your current situation didn’t allow for such niceties.

“I promise you, I’ll give that to you soon…if you’ll have me” he silently gave you his oath while simultaneously feeling rotten about how he had seemingly dragged you into something so dangerous that you had no control over. He knew that the water would take around a good hour to do its job, so with a little time to kill – he gently placed his lips to your forehead, giving you a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Sleep well, (Y/N). I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me…and I’ll protect you at all costs”

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), are you in there? Hello?!”

You opened your eyes slowly, not being sure whether the calling of your name was due to you still being half asleep or if you were just imagining things. You also had completely forgotten about the absolutely gorgeous man – your boss – who was still lying beside you, fast asleep on your sofa. That was until you completely regained consciousness and let your eyes adjust to the lighting in the room. “Oh…that’s right…” you thought, recalling how he had pulled you down on top of him in his sleep. You found yourself with a tiny, shy smile on your face as you looked over to your clock on the wall – reading the time as coming on 10pm.

“Please, (Y/N)! If you’re home, you need to open the door right now!”

You widened your eyes to their full capacity, hearing the extremely familiar voice of your landlord who lived in the apartment below you, banging on your door.

“Jungkook! Jungkook, wake up! My landlord is at the door – get off!” you shouted in his ear, almost deafening him while smacking him on his shoulder; very nearly causing him to roll off the sofa and topple to the floor. Jungkook managed to balance himself – however, and he cringed as his feet became submerged in cold water that had gathered on your floor. And before you could take a look at his face, you had swung your legs around; before receiving the biggest, wettest and coldest shock of your life.

“What the hell?!” you shrieked as you looked around in devastation – seeing your little apartment more or less ruined by the stream of water that was currently flowing from underneath your kitchen sink.

“Oh my god, what happened? How? What?!” you cried out, pulling yourself to your feet and wading through the water towards the door – all while Mugsy mewed at you over and over from the other side of the room. “I have to be dreaming, this can’t be happening!” you screamed internally, before opening your door to see the faces of your landlord and his wife – both of them rather damp and terrified looking. As soon as Jungkook caught a glimpse of their elderly appearance, he quite literally felt what seemed like a pang of disgust from within himself. “Damn it” he winced, feeling more than terrible now that he knew that the people who lived below you were in fact elderly, and they had probably just been woken up with water dripping from their ceiling.

“Mr. and Mrs Jun! I…m-my apartment is flooded!” was all you could say in shock as they looked at you with such horror present on their features.

“I can see that! We were in bed and I woke up completely soaked – th-the water is c-coming through the ceiling!” Mr. Jun replied back, looking in behind you to see Jungkook, your cat and the entire apartment looking like everything had just gone for a swim.

“Where is the stopcock for the water mains? We have to switch it off before the damage gets any worse” Jungkook spoke up – but he knew already where the stopcock was located as he spied it earlier when he cracked your kitchen- sink pipe.

“It’s underneath the kitchen-sink – switch it off, quickly boy!” Mrs. Jun cried out while attempting to pat her damp, grey hair down on her head. Jungkook wasted no time in running over to the kitchen sink and reaching in to turn the handle – before the sound of running water faded away, in both the kitchen and the bathroom. You watched him as he did so, while looking into your bathroom to find that it was completely flooded as well. “This can’t be happening….no, no, no!” you turned back to your landlord, both of you with defeated looks on your face.

A few moments later, Mr. Jun came in to inspect the extent of the damage in your apartment. He found both cracks in the kitchen and bathroom; completely bewildered at how both of them managed to give out at the same time. You listened to him talk about how it could have been due to the cold weather, but he was left completely stumped – as were you. You began apologising profusely; saying how you fell asleep and you had no idea that anything was wrong.

“Don’t worry child – it’s not your fault. The building is old, and while I do my best to try and maintain it…I am also old” Mr. Jun let out a half-chuckle as he made his way back over to the front door. Jungkook felt his chest almost cave in, feeling dreadfully awful about the whole situation – but he knew he needed to do what he could. He had previously thought about using his powers of mind-control on you to persuade you to come back to his Manor. But at the same time, he didn’t want to take advantage of you. Given how much time he had and how much he had to work with, he ultimately was left with no other choice.

“Well…I’ll have to call a plumber, an electrician and a carpenter in the morning; it’s too late to be calling anyone now. I don’t think the floor will give way in the meantime, but just to be safe…do you have any other place you can stay, (Y/N)?” Mr Jun asked you as he stepped back outside to join his wife.

“Um…” you mumbled, knowing full well that you didn’t have anywhere else to go. “I –“

“Yes, she has somewhere to go. How about you, Sir? You and your wife cannot stay in your apartment tonight either. If the ceiling were to collapse…” Jungkook trailed off, not wanting to even imagine the guilt and blame that would reside within him if he had the deaths of two elderly people playing on his conscience. You looked over your shoulder at Jungkook – wondering just what on earth he meant when he said you had somewhere to go.

“Don’t worry about us boy, we have family nearby who can put us up for a few days. As long as (Y/N) has somewhere to stay for a week or so, then everything else can be sorted.” Mr Jun replied, smiling at Jungkook as a way to thank him for his consideration towards him and his wife.

“A week or so?” you repeated his words in your head, wondering where on earth you would be able to stay for that length of time without it costing you an arm and a leg in the process.

“(Y/N), go and pack any necessities that you may need” Jungkook pulled you around, looking you in your face with a serious expression. You widened your eyes, wondering if he had gone and possibly lost his mind, before whispering back to him as quietly as you could.

“…Jungkook, I have nowhere to go. I don’t have money for a hotel – not to mention I wouldn’t be able to take Mugsy with me either, I –“

“I know. Which is why you can stay with me – at my Manor. Don’t worry about anything else, just go and quickly pack. Do you have a suitcase or the likes?”

You stared at him as if he had just sprouted ten extra heads. “Sir” you began, Jungkook wincing at the reappearance of your formality. “I can’t possibly stay at your place. What would people at the office say? How would I explain arriving to and from work with you? I’d have to pay for a taxi every day since you live quite a distance. That – and I don’t want to be burden on you. That’s just not the type of person I am” you finished, keeping your voice down as you felt your cheeks burn hotter. Jungkook pulled you even further into your apartment by your hand, well out of earshot of your landlord. You watched a serious look of hurt paint his face, and it instantly made you feel even worse about everything.

“Look, the way I see it; you have no other choice. You can’t stay here, and you can’t afford a hotel” his eyes bore into yours with his hands now on your shoulders. “You’re not a burden to me. In fact, it makes more sense for you to stay at my Manor – seeing as you are my personal assistant. You are my responsibility. If you have no place to stay, you cannot do your job properly. Am I right?” you listened to his calm, collected words – still feeling rather conflicted about actually spending time with him in his own living space. There was no doubt in your mind that you had completely fallen for him, but you also had your own reputation and pride standing in the way. You didn’t want your name whispered about in the office; (Y/N), the personal assistant living with her boss.

“If you’re worried about what other people may think…then they don’t have to know. I can drive both of us to the office in the morning and you can get out of the car a block away. I don’t give a damn about what people think of me…and neither should you.” Jungkook leaned into your face, his voice soft and endearing – in such a way, it felt like a soothing candle-flame had been flickering in your soul. You knew he was right – you didn’t have anywhere else to go, and you could just do as he suggested and get out of the car a block away. “His Manor is huge…he probably has lots of different rooms for me to stay in. We probably won’t even see each other half the time. What am I so worried about?” you shook your head, heaving a slight sigh before looking back into his dark, intoxicating eyes.

“…fine. I’ll go pack my stuff. Can you get Mugsy and put him in his carrier?” you pointed over towards the little box you used when you took Mugsy to the vets in the past. “If I’m coming, Mugsy’s coming too. We’re a package deal” you added comically, making Jungkook unfold a wry smile in return.

“What a great package deal I’ve gotten myself into” he thought, before watching you make your way into your bedroom to pack up your things. As you did, Jungkook quickly walked back over to your front door, smiling as he began talking to your landlord and apologising further for what had happened.

“Mr. Jun, my name is Jeon Jungkook – CEO of Jeon Corporation” he had said in the midst of his apology – leaving Mr. and Mrs. Jun with confounded expressions at the notion of someone so important being present in their apartment block. Jungkook never had to worry about people not knowing who he was when he introduced himself, for everyone knew who the Jeon’s were, and how much status, money and power they held. “Here is my business card with my personal number on it. I’d like you to send the entire bill to me, for I wish to pay for all damages to (Y/N)’s apartment, including yours. We both had a few drinks and fell asleep. If we had of been awake and completely sober, we would have been able to stop this from causing so much damage. So – I take full responsibility for this incident, and I am extremely sorry for disturbing your night in this way” Jungkook inclined his head apologetically, while offering his business card with both hands. Mr. Jun looked to his wife – both of them completely dumbfounded and in awe. They had previously heard rumours of Jungkook being an unforgiveable, formidable businessman – ruthless and merciless too. But the man they saw before them was a humble one – full of compassion and regret.

“I…I appreciate that Mr. Jeon. I don’t really know what to say – but this will be a great help to us. (Y/N) must think quite a lot of you to spend her free time with you so…you have our gratitude and our thanks. Thank you very much, Sir” Mr. Jun returned Jungkook’s inclination – all three of them smiling at each other in turn, before Mr. and Mrs. Jun said their goodbyes and made their way back to their apartment to pack up their own belongings.

Knowing that you were still packing, Jungkook collected Mugsy’s carrier – opening it and sitting it on the table before walking over to Mugsy and lifting him in his arms. “Time to go in the box, Mugsy. It won’t be for long – so be a good boy” Jungkook tickled Mugsy’s chin.

“Aren’t I always, your Highness?” Mugsy sneered slightly at him, before Jungkook placed him safely in the carrier – making sure it was locked and secure in preparation for the car journey to his Manor.

Before long, you were all packed up and ready to leave your apartment – thankful that most of the water had spilled out of your main living area to the hallway outside your front door after it had been left open for so long. Jungkook helped you take your small suitcase outside to his car, and before you knew it – you were all on your way back to his Manor. During the ride there with Mugsy’s carrier on your knee, you thought about the first time you ever made the one hour and forty-minute journey to his place. How you had went there with the intention of just returning his wallet and then getting back to your everyday motion of life. Little did you know that a mere week and a half later; you’d be going back there to stay for as long as it took to re-do your apartment. Jungkook couldn’t help but let similar thoughts come to him – how he had wanted to essentially suck your veins dry from being so bloodthirsty that night. But, he now wanted to sink his teeth in you for other reasons – none of which were about your blood either. The thought of you being in his Manor – being so near to him for nights on end practically tickled him pink.

Jungkook pulled up outside his driveway – the black iron gates opening upon his arrival, thanks to him having them set up to open once his car got into close enough range. “I guess this is where I’ll be living for a while…and with Jungkook” you felt the tiny wings of several butterflies begin to flutter about in the bottom of your stomach. With everything that had happened, you hadn’t quite fully let the thought of actually living with him settle within you yet. You had never lived with any man – other than your grandfather, your little brother, and your father; when he was still alive. Especially not one that got your heart beating faster and faster every time you thought about him. Conversely, Jungkook had never spent even one night alone with a human woman in all his four hundred years of existing. And as he spun his car around the great gargoyle monument in his courtyard and stopped just outside his intricate front doors; he couldn’t stop the feeling of excitement that coursed through him in that moment.

“It’s late, are you feeling tired?” Jungkook asked you as he took his seatbelt off and opened the car door.

“A little~ But I’ll be okay once I get in and settled” you replied, doing the same and stepping out of the car with Mugsy in hand. Jungkook pulled your suitcase out of the backseat, before locking the doors and walking with you side-by-side up to his Manor. You watched him as he just opened his door without the use of a key, “Strange…he doesn’t lock his front doors?” you pondered. But what you found even stranger was the fact that as soon as you stepped inside – his Manor was already warmly lit up by the few light fittings that adorned the walls and ceilings. However, things looked exactly like they did when you first paid him a visit – and you quickly took a look into his front lounge area; seeing the sofa that he had previously thrown against the wall was back to its current, pristine condition.

“I have a maid come by during the day to do some light cleaning. I always request that the lights be on when I come home” Jungkook informed you as he shut the front door behind you both. The maid he was referring to was absolutely real – however, she was also a Vampire; one that had been working for the Jeon family for centuries.

You nodded silently in response, looking around you as you approached the stair case and getting another good look at the portraits hung on the walls that you spied the last time.

“I can give you somewhat of a tour in the morning, as it’s too late to start now. But just so you know – you’re free to do whatsoever you wish. The fridge is full, as are the cupboards. There are five bathrooms – two downstairs, one outside the kitchen and the other in the east wing of the Manor – both fitted with toilets and a shower. The other three are upstairs but, each bedroom has its own en-suite with a bath and a toilet so, you can choose whichever you would like to use” Jungkook stood beside you, giving you a faint smile as he studied your observation of his Manor around you.

“Yes~” you replied, not really paying attention as your eyes flickered back to him.

“There are thirteen bedrooms upstairs – one of which is mine” Jungkook paused, the word ‘bedroom’ capturing your full and undivided attention. “Each room is already made up and ready to be used, so you may stay in whichever one you please.” Even though Jungkook never had any visitors, he always made sure that the upkeep of every single room in his Manor was held – for he just preferred neatness, and tidiness.

“Oh – thank you” you replied as Jungkook took your suitcase in his grasp once again and began walking up the antique stairwell. You followed him immediately, still clutching on to Mugsy’s carrier.

“Which bedroom do you sleep in?” you asked.

Jungkook smiled ardently as he continued his ascension with you, “Why? Do you plan on joining me in my room?” his voice was laced with an element of flirtation that made you cheeks burn crimson.

“No! I mean…I have trouble sleeping in new places sometimes. And I was just asking because…well, I think it would be best if I could sleep in the room next to you? Just��knowing that someone else is close by would put me at ease” you let your voice drop as you both reached the top of the stairs. Jungkook grinned from ear to ear at how cute you were – but he would have it no other way. Since stepping inside his Manor, Jungkook felt immediately more at ease to know that you were out of harm’s way. In other words, since Yoongi couldn’t set foot inside his estate without Jungkook’s permission – he felt like he could finally relax once more in your presence. Which in turn, left room for other thoughts to occupy his mind.

“I see~” he turned to you, setting your suitcase down and leaning against the staircase banister. “In that case, there is a room directly next to mine. I’ll be there the entire night, so – if you need me, all you have to do…is ask” he cocked his left eyebrow slightly, loving the sweet colour of pink bruise your cheeks as you became captivated by the glistening in his eyes and the curling of his lips.

“My room is that one” he pointed to the first door on his right. “That means, your room is the next one over. Do you…need me to help you pack away your things?” he tilted his head ever-so-slightly.

“No! It’s okay, thank you” you replied quickly - desperately wanting to get into your room and settle yourself to collect your thoughts. “Thank you…for everything, really. But I’ll be okay. I think it’s best if I get some sleep now. We have work in the morning after all” you pulled up the handle of your suitcase and began wheeling it towards your bedroom door. “Goodnight, Jungkook” you said as you placed your hand on the doorknob.

“You have no need to thank me” Jungkook walked over towards his door, mirroring your actions and before opening it. “Goodnight (Y/N), sleep well. And remember, if you need me…I’m right here” Jungkook spoke with a secret, double meaning as he stepped inside his room; closing his door over slightly and leaving it ajar. You shut your eyes tightly, taking in a deep breath and trying to calm the storm within you, before pushing the door open to reveal something so magnificent; that it almost took your breath away entirely.

The first thing your eyes went to, was the four-poster bed that was placed at the far-left of the room – how the white and tawny drapes fell from the posts around the bed that made it all the more alluring. The wallpaper matched the drapes – giving the whole room a warm, yet rustic feeling as you sat Mugsy down on the ground, opened his cage and closed the door behind you.

“Wow…” was all you could think as you allowed your eyes to pan the room, noticing the oak furniture placed accordingly, along with a small fireplace situated on the opposite wall from the bed. You also noticed another door – one that you assumed led into your en-suite bathroom. And as you walked over to open it; your suspicions proved to be correct. “This en-suite is bigger than my main bathroom at home…” you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you took in the grand, four-legged bathtub perched upon pristine, marble tiles below it.

“Okay Mugsy, time to settle down for the night” you spoke quietly, before noticing that Mugsy was already comfortably curled up on the biscuit-beige coloured ottoman at the foot of the bed. You shook your head, smiling at how easy it was for him to become adjusted to his surroundings, before you began pulling apart your suitcase in search of your pyjamas. However, as you emptied out the entire contents, you quickly realised that in your panic to pack everything – you had completely forgotten to take them with you.

“For God’s sake…” you mumbled, double-checking and triple checking, but to no use. “I could always just sleep in my underwear…no! What if I need to get up in the middle of the night? What if Jungkook comes in to ask me something?” you began panicking, drumming your fingertips on top of your chin as your eyes wandered back over to your door.

“I could always just wear one of my shirts…and ask Jungkook to stop by my apartment tomorrow so I can get some pyjamas?” you finally concluded, unfolding a plain, white-button up shirt you frequently wore when lounging around at home. “At least it’s better than sleeping in the nip” you pursed your lips together as you began getting undressed for the night. Before long, you slipped your body underneath the crisp, clean sheets of the bed – feeling the mattress sink underneath you; almost as if you were floating on a cloud as you comfortably placed your head on the feather filled pillows.

“Night Mugsy” you called out gently, before closing your eyes and rolling on to your side – hoping that you would be able to take a leaf out of your cat’s book and drift off quickly.

However, as the minutes began turning into an hour, you were tossing and turning – your mind filled with the events of the day – along with the very obvious notion of Jungkook in the room next to you. “I wonder if he’s sleeping?” you thought, pulling the covers up around you and clutching on to them as you opened your eyes to the dim lighting of the room. Admittedly, you found yourself wondering what his room looked like – and how he looked in his room; if he wore pyjamas, if he could fall asleep at the drop of a hat like Mugsy could. The more you found yourself thinking about him, the more you realised something else as well; you were extremely thirsty.

“Jungkook said I was free to go to the kitchen and take what I want, right?” you threw the covers off you, placing your bare feet on the wooden floor beneath you. “I’ll go downstairs and grab a drink and take it back up here~” you concluded, thinking that Jungkook was probably already sleeping since it was now after 12am, after all. You almost felt like Belle – being kept in a castle, owned by the beast that took her captive. Except, you didn’t fear Jungkook like Belle feared the beast in the beginning. You had already fast forwarded to the part where she fell in love with him – not as a human, but as a beast instead.

Meanwhile, as Jungkook lay on top of his covers – looking through several PDF documents on his phone while casually sipping on blood disguised as a pack of tomato juice; he heard you moving about from the moment you threw the covers off. Jungkook locked his phone, placing it on his nightstand without a sound and putting his drink back in the cupboard of the nightstand.

“…what’s she doing?” he thought to himself, hearing the soles of your feet gently pad towards your bedroom door. Jungkook sat up, looking into the flickering flames of his open fireplace from across the room as he heard you slowly open your bedroom door. For a moment, Jungkook thought that you were about to knock on his door – but to his disappointment, you tip-toed past it and began descending the staircase.

Jungkook immediately got out of bed, listening even harder as he heard you walk across the downstairs floors. “Is she leaving? Would she just leave without saying a word?” he began to let doubt fill him. He was just about to silently stride over towards his door – when he looked down at his naked form, cursing himself for almost walking out completely nude. Jungkook didn’t often strip down to lay in bed for the whole night – but the thoughts of you being so near to him had him feeling more than a little aroused and uncomfortable within the confines of his pants. Not to mention, your scent had filled his entire Manor, and he just couldn’t contain his desire to think of you in that way any longer. Having no time to lose, Jungkook quickly opened one of his drawers, pulling out a pair of sweatpants he used for his Sunday morning walks around his estate and swiftly stepping into them and securing them just on his hip-bones; leaving his muscular torso bare in the process.

Slinking slowly down the stairs, Jungkook used his hypersensitive hearing to gauge what you were doing. As he finally reached the bottom, he could clearly hear you opening cupboards in search of something. “A glass?” he heard your fingertips grip one of his tall water-glasses. “She must be thirsty” he smiled wryly to himself as he walked stealthily towards the kitchen. Next, he heard you opening the fridge and rummaging about though his assortment of fruit juices he liked to stock each week for no other reason than decoration and to feel somewhat normal.

Jungkook slid soundlessly through the open door – the only light present being from the ones underneath the cupboards and the bright, unforgiving glow of the light in the fridge. And as he came face to face with you completely bent over – your top half inside the fridge and your rear-end on display for him to ogle; Jungkook let his jaw almost crash to the ground.

He held his breath in his lungs as he observed the way your shirt rode up over your thighs – leaving no room to imagine what was underneath. Jungkook felt the arousal between his legs harden at the sight of your clothed heat, covered by your delicate, white-laced underwear between your legs. Jungkook was usually the type of Vampire that possessed the greatest amount of self-control known to the world; but as you groaned slightly in an attempt to reach further into the back of the fridge; Jungkook almost lunged for you completely. Without sense or logic, Jungkook began inching towards you, completely unbeknownst to you – with heavenly explicit, passionate thoughts flooding his mind as he couldn’t control himself any longer.

Just as you were about to pull out a carton of apple juice, you felt a presence behind you – causing you to straighten up immediately before feeling a pair of hands snake around your mid-section. You let out a silent gasp of air – knowing immediately who the presence was as Jungkook whispered in your ear.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” his lips ghosted the skin of your lobe – so feather-like and gentle. Jungkook could hear your heartbeat as it began running a marathon behind your ribcage, and it only excited him more. You swallowed hard, feeling his fingertips lightly trace the buttons of your shirt as you instantly felt weak at your knees.

“I…yes” you replied slowly, feeling his breath on the skin of your neck as he pulled your back into his chest. You watched as his hand pressed against the large fridge door, closing it completely. “Did I wake you?” you asked, trying to breathe normally as you felt what you knew was Jungkook’s erection pressing into you from behind, while feeling an unknown rush of adrenaline course through your veins with every second that passed.

“I was already awake” his voice was deep and sultry as he backed both of your bodies up, over towards the island in the middle of his kitchen. You gasped slightly, feeling him spin you around to come face to face with his eyes on you. “I was curious to know what you were up to at such a late hour…” he paused, letting his hands travel to your waistline. You felt a series of hot flushes pass through you from the look of carnal desire in his eyes – and the way his voice sounded like it had just been dipped in honey. “Do you have any idea how you torture me so? Do you have any idea…how irresistible you are to me?” Jungkook pressed his lips to your neck as his hands found their way to your ass, caressing your cheeks forcefully – yet gently. As he did, you let your head fall back, parting your lips slightly to accommodate your breathing that was becoming heavier by the second. For so long, you had imagined all the different ways in which this could all play out; the first time for him to touch you like this, ever since he had kissed you in his front lounge and in your apartment. And now that it was happening; you were completely ready to give in to him, in every possible way.

“Am I so irresistible to you, Jungkook?” you managed to let out as you pressed your hands to his bare chest, looking down to observe his impressively toned physique as you felt fire ignite within your core. Jungkook’s throat produced what seemed like a growl, before grabbing you by your waist and lifting you clean off the floor and on to the island’s top. Without even thinking, you parted your legs to give him even more access to you, and before you could even take a second to breathe – his lips found yours in an instant while his arms snaked around your torso. His kisses were hungry and lustful, yet soft and gentle as you opened your mouth to let his tongue caress yours – feeling his fully erect member press against your lower abdomen. You let out an airy mewl at the friction between your lower halves as you rolled your hips into his; spurring Jungkook on even further.

“How about we continue this upstairs…in my bed?” he whispered lowly to you, leaning back ever-so-slightly to look for any notion of doubt in your eyes. Upon seeing the fiery flames of erotic passion in his stare, you put your arms over his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist before leaning into his ear; whispering sweet , longing words that had never left the realm of your fantasies – until now.

“I want you so badly Jungkook~” you moaned gently, pressing your lips to the skin just below his lobe – letting him hear your laboured breathing that drove him to the brink of his own insanity. Without any further exchanges, Jungkook lifted you up into him – his hands firmly clasped beneath your thighs with his mouth finding yours once more as he began carrying you back towards the stairwell with ease. You felt the firmness of his muscles against the tenderness of your body as he quickly began taking you both back upstairs. The thoughts of being thirsty for apple juice were now long absent. Instead, the rupturing thoughts of what a night in Jungkook’s bed would bring had fully planted themselves in your mind.

Still fully trapped in your kiss, Jungkook was ready to fall apart at the seams with how alive you made him feel. He almost didn’t feel like a Vampire any longer – rather, he felt like a human; a human with the need to feel a certain type ecstasy that he had never experienced before. And as he pressed your back against the wall beside his door and skilfully opened it with one hand, he knew that tonight – it would not only be him coming alive for the first time. For he would make you feel it too.

Over, and over again.

{to be continued…}

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stacksonstacksonstacksgirl · 8 years ago

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When The Sun Met The Moon: part 2

A/N: Okay so I got a pretty positive response to the first little part of this that I did and decided to do another part because I kind of fell in love with my characters and wanna see where I can take them! Anyway please let me know if you guys like this! Enjoy! <3

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“Niall Horan....”

And just like that I fell back into the fandom.

“You must be Olivia, yer sister mentioned tha you like our music, is that right?” Niall asked bending over a little so he could be on my sister’s level.

“UH HUH THATS RIGHT! I LOVE ONE DIRECTION SO MUCH! Harmony doesn’t like you guys anymore though!”

Oh shit

“LIV!”

“What?! It’s true!”

I was so embarrassed and caught up in arguing with Olivia that it wasn’t until Niall’s laugh cut through our conversation that I realized how ridiculous we must’ve looked.

“ Haha! Harmony? Right?”

“Yes... Mr. Horan?”

“Ah please, just Niall! Its okay, not everyone is a fan. It’s no big deal really!”

“I am a fan! I mean I was before! I drifted away once you guys went on break and all that mess happened! Ugh it’s complicated...”

“Well listen, if that’s true then I’m terribly sorry and I hope you’ll give me an the lads a chonce to make it up to yeh tonight but we should probably get moving because yeh weren’t kiddin when you said it was freezin out here!”

And with that he started to lead us towards the buses to meet the rest of the band. Meanwhile in the back of my mind I’m trying to make sure I remember to breathe and that I’ll survive this night.

Olivia was doing phenomenal compared to me.

********************************

Before we went in I decided it would probably be best to give my little sister a small pep talk for her sake aswell as the boys’ sake. I could never forgive myself if my sister got banned from concerts forever for being a little hooligan!

“Olives listen to me real quick okay? I know how much you adore these boys but remember they are people just like you and me alright? So remember when I would show you those videos and tell you how some fans dont respect personal space?”

“Yeah I remember Harmony! You said we gotta use our manners!”

“Exactly! Good! So dont forget to use your manners and give the boys some space okay?”

“Got it! I’m gonna be the best fan ever!”

“You already are babe! Go in and say hi, I’m gonna try to catch my breath really quick okay? I wont be long at all!”

“Okay sissy! Hurry though!”

While she went in I stood on the side of the bus for a second. I felt terrible. How could I have just gave up on them so easily? I know I had a lot going on but I completely forgot that these boys were some of the nicest people until now. Niall had just made tonight a night my sister (and honestly myself) would never forget.

“Hey Harmony, you okay?” he sounded worried and yet gorgeous all the same

“Niall, hey, yeah I was just thinking.” I replied honestly

“Oh? Wanna talk about it? I’ve been told that I’m an amazin listener!”

Imangine me telling my small problems to Niall Horan! How many girls would kill to be me right now? But I opted to keep the conversation light, I wouldn’t want to weird him out off the bat.

“I’m sure you are but its okay really! Nothing important at all anyway!” I gave him a small smile

“Yeh sure? I mean it, if there’s anything at all I can try to help,,,”

“Nah, I’m fine really! Maybe next time I’ll let you pick my brain about it!”

Did I really just say next time? Who was I kidding other than myself?

“Alright, I’m gonna hold yeh to that! Come on inside, yer sister is ravin about you and how yer the best sister ever so all the guys are dyin to meet ya!” he said with a nudge.

I felt like I was dreaming! One Direction wants to meet me? On what planet is that reality? Oh, this one, this is real. I decided to suck it up and head on the bus as bravely as I could.

********************************

Oh. My. God.

“H-Hello-Hi... I’m Harmony” my inner teen was crying but I was pretty composed so that was good!

“Hello Harmony, your sister here has told us so much about you! It’s great to meet you!” Harry said giving me his hand to shake

“Yeah apparently you’re the best sister in the world” Liam continued also shaking my hand

“Well I like her already! She’s got a wicked name and she managed to convince her mum to name her sister after one of our songs which takes balls and dedication. Let’s have a hug then luv” Louis blurted out before yanking me into hug

“Wait am I dreaming?! I just hugged Louis Tomlinson and shook Harry Styles’ and Liam Payne’s hands!” I squeaked out

“Haha! Harmony I thought you said that we needed to treat the boys like they are normal just like me and you?” Olivia reminded me giggling and doing some funny dance with Louis

“I know Liv I’m trying, thank you though.” I said sheepishly grinning

“Ah no need to be shy love!” Liam said attempting to be helpful

“Right, we’re just hanging out. Just relax, come sit on the couch with me” Harry said patting the seat next to him

“No funny business Styles, you’ll give ‘er a heart attack if yeh do something weird!” Niall shouted from near the door

“Oi! I don’t do weird things ever! We’re just sitting and having a conversation...” Harry replied “Soooooo Harmony.... I just have one question for you”

“Of course Harry! Anything! What do you wanna know?” I said a little more eager than I would have liked

“Your sister also mentioned...”

“HARRY STOP! We decided we wouldn’t!” Liam cut him off

“What’s he goin on about now?” Louis chimed in

“I NEVER AGREED TO ANYTHING! I Simply said I wouldn’t make her uncomfortable, she looks comfy on the couch does she not?”

“JUST ASK ME HAROLD!” I yelled above the bickering

They all looked at me

“Well... why don’t yeh like us?” Harry said

Uh oh

“But I do” I replied quickly

“Nuh uh Harmony! Don’t lie! Momma says its a sin!” Thank you Olivia

“I like you all as people!” I defended

“But you don’t like our music?” Liam asked

“Ugh Olivia I should beat you with a stick!” I sighed “Listen, I used to love your music and I still have very special and fond memories with your music but I thought you guys had really broken up when you went on your hiatus okay? And when you came back it just wasn’t the same! I can’t handle this pressure! I’m just gonna go back outside, Liv I’ll peep my head in when they have to go onstage.”

********************************************

I tried my hardest not to just bolt as soon as I got off that bus, the only thing keeping me glued was the fact that I was with my 9 year old sister who would never let me live peacefully if I decided that we needed to leave.

They sounded like they were having a great time probably joking around and being silly. I on the other hand was miserable again and freezing.... again.

Suddenly I heard the bus door open and shut and saw Harry coming over to where I was standing. Great. Time to get chewed out.

“Harry...”

“No Harmony, just listen for a second.”

I nodded allowing him to go on

“I’m so sorry...”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like tha’ an’ I feel terrible. We knew when we decided to take a break that some of our fans might leave us and I dunno why it still hurts but I’m sure you have your reasons and either way tha’s not what matters. You’re here and I’ve been really rude”

“Harry you’ve been wonderful! I feel horrible. I shouldn’t have come! I wouldn’t have come! I’m sorry. After tonight you won’t ever have to see me or hear from me again, I promise.” I have no clue how I was holding my tears for this long but I was proud of myself for doing so.

“Ah no no no love don’t say that...” he said wiping a runaway tear from my face “I’ve quite enjoyed getting to know you! ‘M glad yeh came! Please come back on the bus? The rest of the lads feel pretty gutted and I think Liam has developed a bit of a crush on yeh” he winked

I couldn’t help but laugh. Harry was far too charming for his own good.

“Alright Styles but only because I can only imagine what sort of influence you boys will have on my sister if I leave you all alone too long!” I said nudging his tummy

“Hey before you guys leave she’s gonna be a master prankster is Louis has his way!” He said holding the door open for me but grabbing my wrist before I walked on

“Yeah Harry?”

“I jus wanted to say thank you for bein honest. Its refreshing and I meant what I said about bein glad yeh came with Olivia. I really want to be friends okay?”

“I’m glad I came too Harry, I would love to be friends. Its been a memorable night.”

And as I said that my night became even more memorable when THE Harry Styles kissed my cheek before climbing on the bus.

I had no idea how I was supposed to think straight after that but I did have an idea of how much of a long night this was gonna be.

#one direction #one d #louis tomlinson #Niall Horan #Harry Styles #liam payne #fluffy #harry fluff #niall fluff

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anavoliselenu · 7 years ago

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driven chapter 12

I can hear him. Can hear Max’s gurgled breathing, and even in my shock-induced haze I’m mad at myself for not looking for him more quickly. I turn my head to my left and there he sits. His beautiful wavy blonde hair is tinged red, the gaping gash in his head looks odd to me. I want to ask him what happened to him but my mouth isn’t working. It can’t form the words. Panic and fear fills his eyes, and pain creases his tanned, flawless face. A small trickle of blood is coming from his ear and I think this is a bad thing but I’m not sure why. He coughs. It sounds funny, and little specks of red appear on the shattered window in front of us. I see his hand travel across the car, fumbling over every item between him and me as if he needs touch to guide him. He fumbles aimlessly until he finds my hand. I can’t feel his fingers grip mine, but my eyes see the connection.

“Selena,” he gasps. “Selena, look at me.” I have to concentrate really hard to raise my head and eyes to meet Max’s. I feel the warmth of a tear fall on my cheek, the salt of it on my lips, but I don’t remember crying. “Selena, I’m not doing too good here.” I watch as he unsuccessfully attempts to take a deep breath but my attention is drawn elsewhere when I think I hear a baby crying. I swivel my head to look, but there is nothing but pine trees and the sudden movement makes me dizzy.

“Selena! I need you to concentrate. To look at me,” he pants in short bursts of breaths. I swing my head back at him. It’s Justin. What’s he doing here? Why is he covered in blood? Why is he in Max’s seat? In Max’s clothes? In Max’s place?

“Selena,” he begs, “Please help me. Please save me.” He sucks in a labored, ragged breath, his fingers relaxing in mine. His voice is barely a whisper. “Selena, only you can save me. I’m dying. I need you to save me.” His head lolls to the side slowly, his mouth parting as the blood at the corner of it thickens, his beautiful emerald eyes expressionless.

I can hear the screaming. It is loud and piercing and heart wrenching. It continues over and over.

“Selena! Selena!” I fight off the hands grabbing me. Shaking me. Pulling me away from Justin when he needs me so desperately. “Damn it, Selena, wake up!”

I hear Haddie’s voice. How did she get down this ravine? Has she come to save us?

“Selena!” I’m jolted back and forth again violently. “Selena, wake up!”

I bolt up in bed, Haddie’s arms wrapping around my shoulders. My throat is dry, pained from screaming, and my hair is plastered to my sweat drenched neck. I heave for breath, strangled gasps that mingle with Haddie’s quickened pants of exertion, the only sounds I hear. My hands are wrapped protectively around my torso, arms tired from straining so hard.

Haddie runs her hands down the sides of my cheeks, her face inches from mine. “You okay, Selena? Breathe deep, sweetie. Just breathe,” she soothes, her hands running continuously over me, reassuring me, letting me know I’m in the here and now.

I sigh shakily and put my head in my hands for a moment before scrubbing them over my face. Haddie sits down next to me and wraps her arm around me. “Was it the same one?” she asks, referring to my recurring nightmare that was a staple in my nightly slumber for well over a year after the accident.

“Yes and no,” I shake my head. She doesn’t ask, but rather gives me more time to shake the nightmare away. “It was all the same except for when I look back after I hear the baby crying, it’s Justin, not Max, who dies.”

She startles at my comment, her brow furrowing. “You haven’t had a nightmare in forever. Are you okay, Selena? You want to talk about it?” she says straining her neck to hear the muted music on the speakers I’d forgotten to turn off before falling asleep. Her eyes narrow as she recognizes the repeating song and it’s inference about my state of mind. “What did he do to you?” She demands, pulling back from me so that she can sit cross-legged in front of me. Anger burns in her eyes.

“I’m just a mess,” I confess, shaking my head. “It’s just that it’s been so long. I feel like I’ve forgotten what Max’s face looks like, and then I see him so clearly in my dream … and then the suffocating panic hits being trapped in the car. Maybe I’m just overwhelmed by the emotion of everything.” I pick at my comforter, avoiding her questioning gaze. “Maybe it’s been so long since I have really felt anything that tonight just pushed me over the edge … just overwhelmed me with …”

“With what Selena?” she prompts when I remain silent.

“Guilt.” I say the word quietly and let it hang between us. Haddie reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezing it softly to reassure me. “I feel so guilty and hurt and used and so everything,” I gush.

“Used? What the hell happened, Selena? Do I need to go kick the arrogant bastard’s ass right now?” she threatens, “because I’ll switch my tune. I mean, I was impressed when he called earlier to make sure that you’d gotten home all right and that—”

“He what?”

“He called at like 3:30 … somewhere around there. I answered the phone. Didn’t even know you were home. Anyway I came in here to check and told him you were home and asleep. He asked me to have you call him. That he needed to explain—that you took something the wrong way.”

“Hmmph,” is all I can say, mulling over her words. He actually called?

“What happened, Selena?” she asks yet again, but this time I know she won’t be ignored easily.

I relay the entire evening to her from the point I left her until she woke me up screaming. I include my feelings about comparing “the after” to Max and how hurt and rejected I felt. “I guess I feel guilty because of the whole Max thing. I loved Max. I loved him with every fiber of my being. But sex with him—making love with him—came nowhere near what it felt like with Justin. I mean, I hardly even know Justin and he just turned on every switch and pushed every button from physical to emotional that …” I search for words, overwhelmed by everything. “I don’t know. I guess I feel like sex should have been like that with the guy I loved so much I was going to marry rather than someone that could care less about me.” I shrug, “Someone who just thinks of me as another notch on his bedpost.”

“Well, I can’t tell you that you’re wrong to feel, Selena. If Justin made you feel alive after years of being dead, then I don’t see what’s wrong with it.” She squeezes my hand again, sincerity deepening the blue in her eyes. “Max is never coming back, Selena. Do you think he’d want you be numb forever?”

“No.” I shake my head, wiping away a silent tear. “I know that. Really I do. But it doesn’t make the guilt go away that I’m here and he’s not.”

“I know, Selena. I know.” We sit in silence for a few moments, before she continues, “I know I wasn’t there, but maybe you misread Justin. I mean some of the things he said to you …”

“How is that possible, Had? He was swearing under his breath like he’d just made the biggest mistake. He was like a switch. One minute he was kissing me so tenderly and looking into my eyes and the next minute he was swearing and walking away from me.”

“Maybe he got scared.”

“What?” I look at her like she’s crazy. “Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Girlfriends gets scared of what? That he thinks I’ll become attached to him after one night of sex?”

“One night of mind-blowing sex!” Haddie corrects, making me giggle and blush at the memory. “Well, you do wear your emotions on your sleeve. It seems you don’t do casual sex well.”

“Oh, like it’s a class I can take over at the ‘Y’? I mean, I may be easy to read emotionally, but I’m not in love with him or anything,” I defend whole-heartedly despite knowing full well that what I felt between us tonight was more than just full-blown lust. Maybe I did scare him. That final moment between us in the bed, when he held me and stared into my eyes, really got to me. Made me see possibilities and hope. Maybe he saw that and had to squelch it before it went any further.

“Of course you’re not,” Haddie says with a knowing smile, “but that’s not what I was talking about. Maybe, just maybe, Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Girlfriends … maybe you got to him. Maybe he got scared of what he felt when he was with you?”

“Yeah, right! This isn’t a Hollywood romance movie, Haddie. The good girl doesn’t get the bad boy to change his ways and fall madly in love with her,” I say, sarcasm rich in my voice, as I fall back on my pillow sighing loudly. A small part of me relives Justin’s words from the night before. I am his. I could never be inconsequential. He can’t control himself around me. That small part knows that maybe Haddie is right. Maybe I scare him on some level. Maybe its because I am the marrying kind, as I’ve been told, and he’s just not looking for that.

“You’re right,” Haddie admits, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have one hell of a time losing yourself in hours of mindless sex with him.” She plops back on the pillow next to me, both of us laughing at the idea. “It could have its merits,” she continues, “there’s nothing like a good bad boy to make you let go. Remember Dylan?”

“How can I forget?” I reply, remembering the quick fling she had last summer with the gruff and gorgeous Dylan after ending her year-and-a-half-long relationship. “Yum.”

“Yum is right!” We both lapse in silence, recalling our own respective memories. “Maybe Justin is your Dylan. The one to get you over everything that happened with Max.”

“Maybe …” I think. “Oh God,” I groan, “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Well, seeing as it’s,” she lift her head to look at my clock, “Five in the morning, you should go back to sleep. Maybe give it a day, then call him back. See what he has to say and go from there. Remember our motto. Embrace your inner slut—be reckless with him and try not to think about tomorrow. Just think about the here and now with him. ”

“Yeah, maybe.” We sit in silence for a few moments. Am I just being an overdramatic female reading into things? Into his actions? I don’t think so, but deep down I try to justify his actions to myself. I know that I’ll do it again if given the chance and for my sanity, I need to rationalize everything to right the world back on its axis. The feelings and sensations he evoked in me were way too intense. Way too everything. Maybe it was just the fall from my alcohol buzz that made everything seem so off. Made him seem so detached. I scold myself. I know this isn’t the case, but I’m trying desperately to address my inner slut.

I’m way out of my league here. I just hope I can figure out how to play the game without getting burned in the end.

“Do you want me to stay in here tonight?” Haddie asks, breaking the silence. She used to sleep in my bed on the really rough nights to help me get through them nightmare-free.

“Nah. I think I’m okay. Thanks, though. For everything.”

She leans over and kisses the top of my head, “What are friends for?” she says as she heads for the door. “Good night, Selena.”

“’Night, Had.”

She closes the door and I sigh deeply, staring at the ceiling, thoughts running wild until sleep pulls me under.

CHAPTER 14

I sleep in late. So exhausted from everything that I’m able to sleep past my normal six-thirty, ingrained wake up. It’s nine by the time I’m in my exercise gear and downstairs.

Haddie is sitting at the little table in the kitchen, bare feet with bright pink painted toes propped on the empty chair across from her. She eyes me cautiously from behind her cup of coffee. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” I mutter, my normal sunny morning self absent. “I’m gonna go for a run,” I tell her as I fasten my audio player to my arm.

“I figured,” she says referring to my attire. “Are you grumpy just because you want to be … or because you are forcing yourself to run after too much alcohol and off-the-charts sex with an Adonis?” Sarcasm is rich in her voice. “I’m surprised you can even walk today.”

I sneer at her. “Sounds like someone is a little jealous,” I counter.

“Damn right I am,” she laughs at me. “I have more cobwebs now than you do.” I laugh out loud at her, my grumpiness abating. “Seriously, though … you okay?”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I’m going to take your advice. Try and live in the moment … all that stuff.” I shrug.

She nods slowly at me, “Don’t try to sound so convincing!” she says drolly as she stands from her chair, knowing I need to work through things myself. “I’m here if you need me. Have a good run.”

“Thanks.”

***

The fresh air, pavement beneath my feat, blaring music in my ears, and moving muscles feels masochistically cathartic as I enter my fifth and final mile. I needed this. Needed to get out, clear my mind, and give myself time to think all at the same time. My muscles, sore from last night from the mixture of dancing and great sex, are now limber and moving on autopilot. As much as I think I should go for an extra mile, my stupidity in overlooking breakfast before my run has my body telling me that I won’t last that far. Pitbull blasts in my ears, the song’s constant beat driving my feet and spinning my head back to thoughts of last night.

Oh, Justin. My head is still trying to wrap itself around what happened. He’s the chance I have been looking for. To be carefree. To live in the moment. To be alive, not just living. I resolve that I can have sex with Justin with emotion. The emotions just have to be fueled by excitement and anticipation and lust rather than love and devotion and the hope of “more.” I just need to keep being the sassy, smart-mouthed woman I’ve been all along because the minute he thinks there’s an inkling of more, he’ll be out the door. And it—him, me, us—will be over.

I ponder this my last quarter of a mile, recalling how he made me feel physically last night. I guess there’s something to be said for lots of experience as I can attest that the man is skilled in the many facets of sexual dexterity. I blush at my thoughts, steeling my resolve that I can be with Justin without falling in love with him. I hope. That I’m going to enjoy every second of it because I know he’s not the staying kind.

Teagan and Sara’s “Closer” fills my head as I turn the corner onto my street, my footsteps faltering as I see a white Range Rover parked in my driveway. The rhythm has been knocked clear out of my stride at the shock of seeing him here. I can’t help the hum that comes from deep in my throat in pure appreciation at the sight of Justin leaning up against the front fender of the car, his dark figure haloed by its white. A navy blue shirt fits snugly over his torso, hinting at the corded muscles underneath. Muscles I can still feel on my fingertips. A pair of printed board shorts sits low on his hips and his long, lean legs cross casually at the ankles completed with a pair of flip-flops. Casual suits Justin very well. It lightens the intensity he instinctively exudes. His head is bent down concentrating on the phone in his hands, and his unruly hair is spiked with gel to perfection in a stylish, messy disarray. The pang of desire that hits my body is so strong, so overwhelming that I almost have to bring a hand to my torso to stifle it. I force myself to remember to breathe as I push my body to start moving again.

To go home. To go to Justin.

Shit. I’m in serious trouble. I admire him from afar, looking so unbelievable and attractive, and I realize that everything I thought about on my run—every stipulation, every rationalization, every justification of why it’s okay to sleep with him—doesn’t matter. Seeing him right here, right now, I know that I’ll do anything it takes, whatever the consequences, to be with him again. To repeat how he made me feel last night.

Almost as if on cue, Justin glances up from his phone and locks eyes with me. A slow, smug grin lights up his face as I run my last few steps, turning up my driveway. I methodically pull my ear buds out, laughing to myself that Christina Aguilera’s “Your Body” is blasting, an anthem to the pure and reckless enjoyment of the male form. I can feel his eyes run up and down the length of my body, taking in my skin-hugging Capri exercise pants and matching razor-back tank top, a V of sweat down the front of my bust.

“Hi,” I say breathlessly, my body still huffing from my exertion.

“Hello, Selena.” The rasp of his voice saying my name is a hidden aphrodisiac, sending chills down my spine and eliciting a tingling in my belly.

“What are you doing here?” I look at him with confusion etched on my face hiding that my insides are privately jumping for joy, shocked that he is here in front of me.

“Well,” he says pushing himself off of the car as I walk to a stop in front of him. He exudes a confidence that most people would kill to have. “According to you, I took the checkered flag last night, Selena,” a provocative smile grows on his lips, “but I seem to have neglected to collect my trophy.”

“Trophy?”

He takes my hand with eyes sparkling full of humor still locked on mine, and tugs on it, pulling me forcibly against his chest, “Yes. You.”

Oh. Fucking. My. Thoughts run chaotically through my head. How do I respond to that? To him? When all I can think about is the feel of his warm, hard body against mine, and the fact that he is here for me again after I ran out on him last night. I tell myself to breathe, his mere presence stripping me of the ability to perform the most basic of functions. I quickly try to regain my composure, telling myself that I need to keep our interactions on my terms—revert to my sarcastic nature—in order to make sure that I can keep my wits about me.

I hear Haddie’s voice in my head telling me to channel my inner-slut. To go for it.

I breathe in again before I raise my eyes to meet the challenge in his. His pure male scent, soap mixed with cologne fills my nose and clouds my head. “Well, Ace, I think you’ve got your eyes on the wrong prize.” I pull my hand from his and put it on his chest, playfully pushing him back, distancing his body from mine. Needing the space to keep a clear head. “If all you’re looking for is a trophy, you have your bevy of beauties you can have your pick from. I’m sure that one of them would be more than willing to be a trophy on your arm.” I skirt past him toward the front door. I turn back to face him, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth, “And become another notch on your belt,” I shrug as I take a step backwards. “You could probably start by calling Raquel, is it? I’m sure she’ll forgive you for last night. I mean, you were …” I turn around and take a step for the door, pretending that I’m searching for a word before shrugging and tossing over my shoulder, “decent. She’s probably thrilled with decent.”

I wish I could see the look on his face for the sharp intake of breath I hear tells me that I made a direct hit with my comment. I don’t have to wait long to find out because within a breath, Justin grabs my arm and spins me around to him, pressing my body against his.

“Decent, huh?” he questions, his eyes boring into mine. I see anger, humor, defiance, all mixed together with desire. His breath flutters over my face, his lips inches from mine—so close that I clench my fists to resist the temptation to kiss him.

It takes all of my composure to keep up my charade of nonchalance. To hide how much he excites me, ignites my insides and shatters my control with just the sound of his voice, the feel of his touch, and the hint of his dominant nature.

I deliberately bite my bottom lip and look my eyes up in thought before bringing them back to his, “Hmmm, a smidgen above average, I’d say,” sarcasm dripping from each word as I smirk at him, lying through my teeth and then some.

“Maybe I need to show you again. I assure you that decent is not an accurate assessment.”

He snorts loudly as I push away from him again and provocatively sashay my way up the front walk, “I need to go stretch,” I say sensing his movement behind me. “Are you gonna come?” I ask innocently, a victorious smirk he can’t see wide on my face.

“If you keep moving your ass like that, I am,” he mutters under his breath as he follows me into the house.

I lead him into the family room hoping Haddie is occupied elsewhere in the house and offer him a seat on the couch before I sit on the floor directly in front of him to stretch. I stretch my legs out to either side of me as wide as they can go and lower my chest to the ground, hands out in front of me on the floor. With the help of my sports bra and my chest pressing into the floor, my cleavage is pushed up and hedges over the top of my tank. I can see Justin’s eyes wander over my body, stopping at my chest, and taking in the flexibility I’m purposefully displaying to drive him crazy. I can hear his hiss of desire, and I see his throat work in a forced swallow.

“So, Justin,” I say, stretching out over one prone leg, turning my head to look at him. I stifle a smile as I recognize the lust clouding his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

“Christ, Selena!” He runs a hand haphazardly through his hair, his eyes moving over the cleavage again, before raising up to meet my eyes. He unintentionally wets his bottom lip with his tongue.

“What?” I respond all doe-eyed, as if I have no idea what he’s agitated over. I’ve never played the femme fatale—never had the courage to—but something about Justin allows me to feel daring and bold. It’s a very heady feeling to watch him react to my subtlest motions.

“We need to talk about last night.” I see his eyes narrow as I switch positions, now lying on my back. I pull my right leg all the way up, pressing it to my chest, my shin inches from my nose. I lift my head up and look through the open V of my legs to encourage him to go on. He clears his throat noisily before continuing, taking a minute to remember his train of thought. “Why you left? Why you ran away? Again.”

I switch legs, taking my time to pull my other leg up, and stretch it over my head, making a low moan at how good it feels to elongate my tightened muscles. “Justin—”

“Can you please stop?” he barks out, shifting restlessly on the couch and adjusting the growing bulge that presses against the seam of his shorts. “Christ,” he swears again as I roll over into child’s pose, my bent rear in his view. “You in those yoga pants all limber and bending in half—you’re making me lose my concentration here.”

I look over my shoulder from my stretch and coyly bat my eyelashes at him. “Hmmm?” I feign as if I didn’t hear him.

Justin sighs in exasperation. “You’re gonna make me forget my apologies and take you right here on the floor. Hard and fast, Selena.”

“Oh,” is all I can manage for his threat-laced promise sends shockwaves through me, my body more than eager for his skilled touch again. My lips part to remind my lungs to breathe. My nipples harden at the thought. I push myself up to a seated position, cross my legs, and adjust my top to try and hide my body’s excitement at his words. “Although I’m sure it’s me who should be apologizing, Justin.”

He ignores my words, his eyes holding mine, various emotions flickering through them. “Why’d you leave, Selena?”

The command in his tone has me swallowing quickly, my confidence waning. I shrug, “A number of reasons, Justin. I told you, I’m just not that kind of girl. I don’t do one-night stands.”

“Who said it was a one-night stand?”

A bubble of hope sputters inside of me, but I quickly try to stifle it. Not a one night stand? Then what the hell was it? What the hell is this? I try to figure out what he’s looking for. What he might think this is between us. I look at his eyes, searching for a clue, but his expression gives nothing away. “What?” Confusion etches my face. “You lost me. I thought commitment wasn’t your thing.”

“It isn’t.” He offers up with a shrug, no other explanation given. “I don’t believe you.” He crosses his arms across his chest, biceps straining against shirtsleeves, and leans back into the couch. He quirks his eyebrows at me and waits for my answer.

“What?” He’s lost me.

“Your excuse for running last night. I don’t buy it. Why’d you leave, Selena?”

I guess that’s the end of the no-girlfriend discussion. But what about the not-a-one-night-stand comment? As for an answer, how do I explain to him how he made me feel last night after he left the bed? Used and ashamed. How do I tell him he hurt me without sounding like I have feelings for him? Feelings mean drama, and he has let me know he doesn’t want or tolerate that in his life.

“I just—” I sigh deeply, pulling my hair tie from my ponytail and let my hair fall down my back, trying to find the right words. I look him in the eyes, figuring honesty is the easiest route. “You made it clear that you were done with me. With us …” I can feel the heat of my flush spread over my cheeks. Embarrassed that I am going to sound like a needy, whining female. “Cursing adamantly to demonstrate why my presence was no longer needed.”

He eyes me cautiously, his eyes blinking rapidly as he contemplates my words. I try to keep my face impassive, unexpressive so that he can’t see the hurt I feel, and yet I see a myriad of emotions fleet across his face as he struggles to gain his footing. “Sweet Jesus, Selena!” he mutters closing his eyes momentarily, his mouth opening and closing as if he has more to say. Finally he looks back at me. “Do you have any idea … you made me—” He stops midsentence before standing abruptly and walking to the window. I hear him mutter a curse and I blanche at its severity. “I just want to protect you from—,” he stops again, a loud sigh the only completion to his sentence. He puts a hand to the back of his neck and pulls down on it while he rolls his head on his shoulders. He stands there momentarily, looking out at the front yard, both of us suspended in contemplative silence.

I made him what? Protect me from what? Finish the sentences, I plead silently as I watch his tense body framed by the mid-morning light. I just need an ounce of honesty from him. A sign that what happened meant more than just a quick romp. I’d give anything to see his face at this moment. To try and read the emotions he’s masking from me.

He turns back around and any hint of expression previously on his face is gone. “I asked you to stay.” He says the words as if they’re the only apology he’s giving for his actions. “That’s all I can give you right now, Selena. All I’m good for.” His voice is gruff and laced with what I think is regret. I feel as if he’s trying to tell me so much more with these words but I’m not sure what. The words hang between us for a moment, his jaw clenched, eyes intense.

I snort loudly, uncomfortable with the silence, trying not to read too much into his words. “C’mon Justin, we both know you didn’t mean it.” I rise from the carpet, grabbing my hair and twisting it quickly into a bun. He takes a couple of steps toward me, his lips twisting as if that action alone will prevent him from saying more. We stand a few feet apart, staring at each other, and each waiting for the other to make the next move. I shrug before looking down and twisting the ring on my right ring finger. I look back up at him, hoping my explanation will stifle any questions he has about having to manage my expectations of a possible future. Baggage equals drama to him, and he’s already admitted to me that he hates drama. “Let’s just say I left last night for reasons you don’t want to know about.” His eyes remain on mine, silently asking for more. I huff loudly. “I’ve got lots of excess baggage, Ace.”

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