#i was on absolute tenterhooks waiting for the next chapter

[choices-and-voices]

Why am I posting these screenshots a whole week late, you ask? Well, I was – how do I say it – I was Not Okay.

[aidanchaser]

WIP Tag/Reblog Game

Thank you @rosie-b for the tag! I love hearing about your works~

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

WIP TITLES

(I picked the 5 that I have open currently - there are so many more than 5 rattling around at all times, and i try not to start publishing any that aren't already outlined beginning to end)

Boulangerella - a fairy tale/cinderella story full of love square shenanigans, blood sacrifices, and scheming villains

Butterfly Effect - Adrien as Hawkmoth/Shadowmoth AU; Marinette and Chloe hold the ladybug and cat miraculous - songfic with butterfly effect by FJØRA

Expectations - Kwami Swap AU where Adrien is Mister Bug from the beginning; he's dealing with the anxiety of his role (and the knowledge that he handed his earrings over to hawk moth in another timeline and has no idea why)

After the War (place holder title) - a 1920s post-WWI AU, where Marinette runs her parents' bakery by day and a club by night; the club is a cover to take down war-profiteer Gabriel Agreste through vigilante action; Adrien has just returned to Paris from his time abroad in London, and Marinette has to wrestle with her childhood crush on him and her now grown-up hatred for his family

Time Lady of Creation (place holder title) - A Time Lord AU - I will say little else about it because it's still in the outline stages with only a few scraps of scenes drafted

UPCOMING SECTIONS

The next chapter is full of A LOT of confrontations and hard conversations - Marinette & Luka (the original conversation has been written but it needs to be redrafted to a new context); Felix and Lila (again, a lot of their stuff is written but needs to be redrafted); and Marinette & Chat Noir (not drafted yet - fragments abound in notes but need to be tied together)

Adrien has to figure out how to get his hands on the Cat and Ladybug Miraculouses so that he can save Marinette from a terrible fate

Marinette needs to help Adrien face Miracle Queen - I'm excited about the Cat/Dragon and Bug/Snake renditions of their powers for this AU, but this fic just kept getting comments that were like "it's not even that different from canon" and so I no longer care too much about this fic - I'm just irritated because I wrote the ending already and i LOVE the ending but I can't post the ending without writing the middle

The next scene I need to write is a confrontation between Ladybug and Adrien Agreste, where he doesn't realize how much she hates him and she has no idea how much he's madly in love with her

Right now it's mostly an outline, so I need to write the beginning, where Ladybug saves Adrien from a wax museum come to life then asks him to run away with her through time and space!

So - which WIP are you most excited to see update?

I know I'm supposed to tag 10 but I know about half of the writers I am mutuals with have already been tagged, so if I accidentally tag you a second time, I apologize! @astargatelover (if you have 5 wips?), @asukiess (if you haven't been tagged yet), @kay-elle-cee, @uncertainwallflower, @ninadove (I would love to hear about your projects and get to know you more) [I'm so sorry i fully reblogged and commented your own WIP list and did not even process the connection - absolutely embarrassing], @chaos-has-theories, @sunshinemarauder, @wield-the-mighty-pen, @miabrown007 (I don't think you've been tagged yet??? unclear), and last but certainly not least @dammithawke (bc i haven't heard about your role reversal au in a while and would love to hear about it again)

[fannish-karmiya]

Hi!!!! Thank you for the lovely update today!!! While I'm on tenterhooks waiting to see if Lan Wangji can both hold onto his faith and find some proof (I'm not sure if that final scene will end up counting for or againat WWX >_<), can I request that the story with revived-with-his-own-face We Wuxian have an update sometime the next week or two as well? I normally would not ask, except that I think I remember you saying you've already writtena lot for most of these, and that you lose track of how long it's been since an update. I just really want to see more Wei Wuxian, Lan Sizhui, and Lan Wangji bonding hours where the world isn't (actively) out to get them! (Yet.)

But absolutely NO pressure with this request - if you *don't* already have an update for it, or you don't *want* to update it yet, please simply pretend only the first sentence and a half of this ask exists!!!

Thank you for everything you write and have written!!

Thank you for your message! I've been trying to update this one a bit more frequently at least until these early chapters are through, because I know they're really on tenterhooks for a while. I will say that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian speak and Lan Wangji learns the truth next chapter!

No, it's no problem that you asked! I actually was going over the next chapter for Our Feelings Remain Unchanged and realised there was a scene I really had wanted to illustrate, so I'm currently working on that. It's in the pencil stages and I'm hoping to finish it and then post the chapter sometime this weekend! I'm really excited to post more of that fic for a bunch of reasons, including because it was so fun to write. It's not at all a canon rewrite; I basically pushed over one piece (Wei Wuxian coming back with his original face) and then tried to guess how everything else would fall apart as a result, and so a ton of things wind up happening differently over time. Just picture Nie Huaisang, constantly sweating bullets in the background because Wangxian are not behaving according to plan at all!

Thank you again for your message! I'm so happy that you're enjoying my writing <3 <3 <3

[lostinfantasies38]

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Underage

Category: M/M

Fandom: Harry Potter

Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Characters: Everyone is here

Additional Tags: Romance, Not A Slow Burn, It's A Flash Fire, Character Bashing, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Good Slytherins, Slytherin Harry Potter, Soft Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Muggle-born Culture, 90's Music, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Supportive Slytherins, Gryffindors Being Asshats, Except the twins, They're cool, Probably OOC but I Don't Care, Self-Indulgent, Unexpected Relationships, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Protective Draco Malfoy, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Morally Grey Draco Malfoy, So many tropes

Summary: Harry's name is spat from the Goblet of Fire, turning his excitement for the Tri-Wizard Tournament into a nightmare. The Champions believe he cheated, Dumbledore is less than helpful, and his friends have abandoned him. Resigned to his fate as a pariah, Harry is about to receive an offer of support from a most unlikely source. Of course, this leads to a domino effect, revealing things Harry and his new friends could never have imagined, changing the course of the war and his life forever.

Tagging @kittimau @sharkapologists @jellysharkbat @jennserr @fandomn00blr @charlatron If you guys wouldn’t mind helping circulate this. 💖

As the feast wound down, everyone’s attention turned to the Goblet as the flames flared blue. The sconces along the wall immediately dimmed and Dumbledore strode forward as the first singed piece of paper flew out of the magical fire.

“The Beauxbaton’s champion is Fleur Delacour!”

A stunning blonde girl in powder blue stood with a smile to loud applause. Hermione rolled her eyes as most of the male population watched her cross the hall to stand in front of Madam Maxine.

“Honestly,” she snapped, cuffing Ron upside the head, much to Ginny’s amusement.

The cup flared again and absolutely no one was surprised by Viktor Krum’s appointment as Durmstrang’s champion. An electric hum of magic buzzed in Harry’s ears as the crowd waited on tenterhooks for the last announcement.

“The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!”

The hall erupted with cheers as the Hufflepuff Seeker’s shock gave way to determination. Hopping off the bench, he took his spot next to the Headmaster with a broad grin.

“Now that the Champions have been chosen —” His statement cut off abruptly as the Goblet flared a fourth time.

Silence reigned as another piece of smouldering parchment floated from the goblet and Dumbledore’s fingers deftly caught it. Dread coiled in Harry’s gut as the Headmaster squinted through his spectacles before reading the name.

“Harry Potter.”

He shook his head frantically and glanced at his friends, only to find them all either glaring at him or the table. Swallowing hard, Harry stumbled off the bench at Hermione’s furious shove. Keeping his head down, he avoided the angry glowers of the other champions and their headteachers, completely blocking out the rest of Dumbledore’s speech in his stupor.

He wanted to argue he didn’t put his name in the Goblet. How could he? Not even Fred and George bypassed Dumbledore’s spellwork, and they were devilishly brilliant. But the words stuck in his throat, leaving him mute and trembling under hundreds of judgemental eyes, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him.

[burgundybmw]

Red is giving me absolute LIFE right now, and I’m on tenterhooks waiting for the next chapter 😭 could I be added to the taglist pls? (I know the notif will come from ur other blog)

And…if you’re feeling generous….another sneak peek? 👀

Of course!! Can do!!

And I'll do you one better, about to upload the next chapter now!

[noona-clock]

The Bartender - Part 6, Final Chapter

Genre: Bartender!AU

Pairing: Jinhwan x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,082

Six Months Later

“Tonight?” you asked with a soft chuckle. “But it’s a Tuesday.”

Why was Jinhwan asking you to come to the bar tonight? He certainly knew by now that you made it a habit to only go on Friday evenings or on the weekend -- mainly just Saturday, though. 

“I know, but -- please just come,” he replied.

A sigh slid through your lips, and you closed your eyes briefly as you said, “I have kind of a busy schedule tomor --”

“You don’t have to stay long,” Jinhwan interrupted.

Your brow furrowed gently. “...And it has to be tonight?”

“It has to be tonight. ...Please.”

Well. You certainly couldn’t refuse him when he said please twice. That would just be rude!

“Okay,” you relented. “I’ll stop by after work for a little bit. Do you want me to bring you anything to eat?”

You, at least, figured the two of you could share a quick meal together back in his private office. If you were going to be at a bar on a Tuesday evening, you certainly wanted to make it worth your while and spend some quality, alone time with your boyfriend.

“No, don’t worry about dinner,” he told you.

...What? Don’t worry about dinner? But he was asking you to go to Jay’s after work, and he knew you typically ate dinner right after you got home in the evening.

“Wha --”

“I’ll see you later, okay, baby?” he said hastily. “I gotta go. Drive safe -- see you -- miss you!” And then he made some kissing noises into the phone before the line went dead.

Oh.

Okay, then.

It wasn’t terribly unlike Jinhwan to plan things, but he usually didn’t make it so secretive. After your first date, he discovered that life with you tended to be much easier when he shared his plans with you beforehand.

So, something was definitely fishy about this whole thing.

You spun around in your office chair, eyeing your planner but not actually looking at it. You just needed something to focus on as you thought this through.

Why was he being so unforthcoming about his plans for the evening? If you were only going to be there for a short while, and you weren’t even going to eat dinner there, why wouldn’t he just --

A thought suddenly popped into your head, and it made your heart momentarily stop beating.

What if he was planning to propose?

You quickly shook your head, dismissing that thought because he absolutely would not be proposing. The two of you hadn’t even said ‘I love you’ to each other yet!

...But maybe the fact that you’d just been very swift to think that he might propose meant you should say it.

You felt it, of course, and you had a very solid notion that he did, too. In fact, there had been quite a few times over the past couple of months when you thought he might tell you.

But now that you really thought about it, you concluded that he was probably waiting for you to say it first. You couldn’t blame him in the least for that; it was very rarely easy to know how you were feeling just by looking at you. Over the years, you’d gotten used to telling the people in your life when you were upset, excited, nervous -- or any other emotion. But you hadn’t yet mastered telling someone you loved them.

When you spun back around in your chair to face your computer, you made a mental note to tell Jinhwan sometime soon -- very soon. You did, in fact, love him, and he deserved to know.

But anyway -- you still hadn’t figured out why he would be inviting you to the bar tonight, on a Tuesday!

One glance at the clock on your computer told you it was time to get back to work, though, so you would have to just wait and see.

In an interesting turn of events, Emma had messaged you that afternoon inquiring about your plans for the evening.

This was also somewhat suspicious because she rarely, if ever, asked what you were doing on a weeknight. She knew better than Jinhwan your proclivity towards restricting anything “fun” to the weekends.

But the fact that her contact made you wary didn’t stop you from telling her. And when she read that you would be stopping by Jay’s after work, she almost immediately replied back that she would meet you there -- which wasn’t surprising.

Jay had hired a bartender not too long ago, a very mysterious man named Yongguk, and Emma had quickly decided he was her ideal type. She would jump at any chance to go and see him.

So, here you were, pulling into Jay’s and parking next to Emma’s waiting car.

As soon as you stepped out, you stood and turned to face your friend who was getting out of her own car.

“What’s going on?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

“...What do you mean?”

“Why did you ask me what I was doing on a Tuesday night?”

Emma immediately pulled her lips into an angelic smile, and then your thoughts that something fishy was going on were cemented.

“I swear, I don’t know anything,” she assured you as the two of you met on the sidewalk. “Jinhwan just called me and told me to ask you what you were doing and that I should come along.”

Oh, he was good. He was very good. Asking Emma to take part in his plan but not actually telling her the plan? Smart move, Sir. Very smart.

“Well, something is definitely going on,” you murmured.

“I bet it’s something exciting,” Emma grinned as you approached the front door of the bar. “He knows you. He wouldn’t get you to come here on a weeknight if it weren’t for a very good reason.”

“This is true,” you nodded, walking through and stepping into the place you’d come to be so familiar with over the past six months.

Not even one second passed before you heard Jinhwan call out your name, and when your eyes found him standing behind the counter, you smiled warmly and lifted a hand to wave at him.

Emma suddenly grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the bar with a clear purpose: she’d just spotted Yongguk mixing a drink a few feet away from your boyfriend, and now she was making her way to the bar stool right in front of him.

As soon as you slid onto the stool right in front of your man, you heard Emma greet Yongguk with a very eager but breathless “Hi.” The quiet, handsome man murmured his response, and then you shifted your gaze away to let Emma do her thing.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Jinhwan smirked just as you turned to face him.

“Oh, yes, fancy that,” you replied sarcastically. “What’s going on?”

Your boyfriend immediately looked affronted, his head rearing back as his forehead wrinkled deeply. “What do you mean ‘what’s going on’? I can’t ask my girlfriend to come see me? It’s not like I don’t miss you during the week.”

You pursed your lips and shot him a disbelieving look.

“Okay, fine,” he grinned. “I’m introducing something new to the menu.”

Your eyebrows rushed up your forehead, a grin to match your boyfriend’s appearing on your own lips. “Oh, you finally finished it?”

For basically the entirety of your relationship so far, Jinhwan had been in the process of concocting a new drink. He’d had you taste dozens and dozens of variations of the drink and, being the good girlfriend you are, you’d provided him with honest, constructive feedback every time.

In fact, the last time you’d tasted it, you hadn’t been able to tell him anything you disliked about it. It had been perfect, at least to your tastebuds.

And now it was time to make it official, apparently!

Jinhwan’s grin grew wider as he handed you a menu and pointed to the newest addition on the list. The font color was different, and there was a star right next to it so it was obvious to customers that it was a new drink.

As soon as your eyes landed on the words, they widened. Your heart flipped over and then leaped up into your chest. 

You snapped your head up to stare at Jinhwan, the expression on his face one of pure pride.

He had named the drink after you.

It was right there in green font: The Y/N.

“You -- the --” you stammered. “So -- so, that’s why you had me --”

Jinhwan simply nodded, though it was obvious that he was barely able to contain his excitement.

It seemed silly -- you didn’t love going to bars, and you didn’t love alcohol as much as your boyfriend did, so you weren’t sure why your throat was tightening with emotion at the fact he had named a drink after you.

But then you realized, he’d done it because he loved you.

He loved owning his bar, he loved making drinks, and this was his way of telling you that you were just as important to him as his business.

You opened your mouth to tell him that you loved him, even though you weren’t crazy about the fact your first time saying it would be in a bar -- but Jinhwan interrupted you.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

Without hesitating, you slid off your stool and made your way to the side of the bar, heading behind it to get to him.

You rushed up to Jinhwan, reaching your arms out and latching onto him in a tight, almost desperate embrace.

“I love you, too,” you murmured, your voice muffled as you spoke into his neck.

Jinhwan had hugged you back immediately, but upon hearing your words, he squeezed you, gently digging his fingers into your back and shoulders.

And then you heard Emma’s high-pitched ‘Awwwwwwww’ and you remembered you were in a public place.

But... this time, you didn’t care. You kept hugging your boyfriend -- the boyfriend you loved and had loved and would always love.

“I have something else to tell you,” he said softly.

You pulled away just the tiniest bit, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Hmm?”

“The new health inspector came in today,” he smirked.

“Oh?” Your eyebrows rose curiously, and you waited on tenterhooks to hear the outcome.

Instead of telling you, he nodded over toward the wall behind the bar, and when you turned your head to look, you saw the report card hanging up.

A 100.

“See? I got full marks all by myself, no flirting included.”

You pinched his arm, your forehead wrinkling as you whipped your head back to look at him. “There better not have been!”

“There wasn’t!” he defended. “Will you add 100 points to my score?”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and you moved to rest your chin back on his shoulder. “Yes, of course.”

“So, what’s my total now?”

“Three thousand and seven hundred,” you replied immediately. Adding an even 100 to his previous score had been far too easy. “Although, I think I will make it four thousand after what you did tonight.”

“Four thousand,” Jinhwan grinned. “I’ve never gotten a score of four thousand on anything before.”

“Oh, come on,” you chuckled. “Four thousand will be nothing later on down the road. Just think about how many points you could earn in another six months. Or a year. Two years!”

Jinhwan squeezed you a little, one corner of his lips lifting into a smirk. “You know I don’t do anything for you just to get points.”

“I know,” you beamed. “That’s why I keep doing it.”

Well... that and because you just liked scoring things.

“Yeah, but you also just like scoring things. Giving points is kinda your thing.”

“That it is,” you giggled.

“And I love you for it.”

“I love you, too.” You smiled brightly before leaning back and moving to press your lips to his. 

Right now, you didn’t care that you weren’t alone and that you were still in a public place -- it was a Tuesday evening, the bar was hardly full, anyway.

No, right now, all you cared about was kissing your boyfriend. Showing and telling him how much you loved him. Making sure he knew he was worth more than a measly four thousand points.

Way, way more.

[dreamerofthefantastical]

👑🐺💜 #bookreview The Crown of Gilded Bones - @jennifer_l_armentrout . .4/5 🌟 . SPOILERS!!! . . . . . . . . Ok, so, firstly, for some reason I thought this was a trilogy... Clearly I am very, very WRONG! . Secondly... Holy hell, WTF just happened!!! . We got off to a cracker of a start! Betrayal! Kidnapping! Me absolutely convinced that my favorite character was dead only a handful of chapters in, and, OMFG that shit with the Wolven! . I do feel we hit a bit of a lull there for a while, a fair bit of rehashing and it just slowed down. . But the second half? Oh man, shock reveal after shock reveal! At one point I was listening to the audiobook on my drive home from work when a certain bomb about Malec was dropped... Several WTFs may have been audible to people driving by. . Poppy absolutely kicked ass in this book, she has certainly been in a journey since the first book. I just love her so much and am so keen for the ass kicking she's going to deliver next book! . Casteel, LOVE him SOOO much! He's cheeky, and romantic and will absolutely tear you to shreds (or rip out your spine...) if you so much as look at Poppy in the wrong way. He is such a great character and I swear if so much as a hair on his beautiful head is harmed I will NOT be happy! . But I have to say, my man Kieran holds a special place in my heart. 💜 I just adore Kieran, so, so much so he better survive what's coming next, just saying. And, OMG, the situations this dude finds himself in with Poppy and Casteel? Haha! Love it! . I can't be the only one hoping for the Joining in the future right? . Awesome book, my head was absolutely spinning by the end of this and I had a severe case of whiplash! Poppy's family tree is freaking...OMFG! And the stuff with Ian and Tawny and MISS WILLA, gah! Now I'm once again waiting on tenterhooks for the next installment. . . . #booksandflowers #booksandcandles #booksofinstagram #bookstagram #bookstagrammer #bibliophile #booklr #bookdragon #bookgram #aussiebooklover #aussiebookstagram #ausbookishfeatures @ausbookishfeatures #thecrownofgildedbones #kierancontou #poppybalfour #casteeldaneer #fbaa #akofaf #tcogb https://www.instagram.com/p/COU8ulvrnWz/?igshid=19asm46pxpjbr

[scriptstructure]

I think I just want reassurance. I have three diff parts of my story that involve storytelling, like a story in a story. All in diff ways and for diff reasons, none of them spanning the length of an entire chapter or anything. I don’t feel like it’s too much, because it’s the first book in a series and most books need that kind of background, but of course the niggling fear is there. Any advice on how to go about it so the readers don’t go crazy? Or is this just a normal thing in fantasy novels?

There’s nothing wrong with having storytelling as a part of your story.

Storytelling, oral histories, campfire stories, bedtime stories, mythologies, legends, pub jokes, fairy tales, and many many more traditions of people getting together to tell each other things that they feel are important in some way are hugely important to pretty much every society. 

Look, I’ve got this whole blog about how we can learn to approach participating in our modern society’s storytelling tradition!

Stories weren’t invented with the printing press, so of course it’s absolutely great to include something of the storytelling culture of your invented world within your story, and it’s also absolutely fine to include as many stories as are needed for your narrative.

As to how to make the storytelling feel real and integrated into the larger narrative, I would suggest treating them like other elements of worldbuilding. That is, stories aren’t only relevant at the moment when people sit down to tell each other spooky or prescient stories, they influence the way that people think and remember, and they also inform us about the cultural norms of the world of the story.

I think a really great example for this is the first book in A Song of Ice and Fire, with many of the characters beginning their narrative arcs very invested in, and interested in story, and thinking of their lives in terms of how the legends that they’ve been told unfold.

Bran Stark is influenced by the stories about Winter that Old Nan tells him, Sansa Stark is enchanted by tales of chivalry and the south, and Daenerys is inspired by stories of power and empire.

It can be helpful to think about the way that stories are used, both in terms of the narrative you’re creating, and in the way that characters use stories to understand the world around them.

Stories can be how we connect ourselves to a shared history.

Stories can be how we make sense of big events.

Stories can be how we explain things that we don’t otherwise understand.

Stories can be a way of strengthening group connections.

Stories can be a way of passing on important information.

Stories can be a way of remembering things that happened long ago.

And many, many more.

Stories aren’t just the words that are used to tell them, or the time we spend sitting around the campfire, they encapsulate our way of thinking, of relating to the world and the people around us, of understanding our place in the universe.

Now, in terms of sort of guidelines to make the actual storytelling part work in your narrative, I have a few preferences:

First off, you should actually include the storytelling. I know this sounds obvious, but there are a lot of stories which try to have this as a central thematic element, but instead of actually living in the moment of the story being told, it heads off into a ‘telling’ description of what the story was supposed to mean, it often looks like this:

As the night drew in around them, Protagonist sat by the campfire holding a mug of hot tea, waiting for Granny to begin the evening tale. She took her time, ensuring that everyone was waiting on tenterhooks to hear tonight’s offering. That night’s story was about dragons which are important to the history of this area and which you, the reader, should probably know about and this is as good a time as any to remind you about it, but I’m not actually going to show you the story being told, anyway the next scene starts with Protagonist waking up.

(Oops, that got a little bit bitter, didn’t it? What I’m saying is, if you promise me an oral storytelling tradition, you better deliver me an oral storytelling tradition.)

Secondly, I think it’s better for there to be more stories told than are precisely and neatly connected to the plot. Sometimes stories should reveal hints about relevant things in the world’s history or should give some nice foreshadowing for future story elements, but remember! It’s still supposed to be a nice story being told by one character to another! Why are they telling stories? Because people like stories! The function the story serves in the larger narrative is secondary to the character and worldbuilding.

Thirdly, context matters. There are some times in which it is absolutely great to sit and tell a story. There are other times when it makes me want to say ‘hey that’s great but there are more pressing things happening right now!!!’ This is a bit of a your-mileage-may-vary thing, but do consider whether the position the characters are in is appropriate to pop out a story. Of course, there are some high stakes situations where using a story to bolster courage, or calm the group, for example, is perfectly reasonable--just make sure that the situation, the story being told, and the reason for telling the story all add up and make sense.

Fourthly, make sure that the story being told is in a ‘voice’ appropriate to the character telling it. Sometimes in stories the characters have well developed verbal patterns and tendencies, a nicely developed characterisation through their verbal expression, but once they start telling a story it falls away in favour of a kind of bland prose that makes it clear the story wasn’t written to fit their voice, it was just that that character at that moment was the easiest place to drop in the story the author wanted told. By all means, figure out the myths, legends, and fairytales, etc, that you want your character’s to be familiar with ahead of time, but also remember to reword them to fit the way that the storyteller would tell them, give them that personal flavour!

And now, I know this is a long post, so just in case it wasn’t clear, here’s your reassurance: you can have as many stories-within-stories as you like, it’s your story and you get to make that decision, and if that’s how you want to tell it, then that is the right way to write your story.

I hope that helps!

[mezzomercury]

Bohemian Rhapsody in Blue Chapter Five: A New Life is Born (Part I)

A/N: So, I decided to post this today in honor of the Royal Baby (By telling a story of another royal baby, I guess). This chapter will be in two parts so it won’t be too long. Hold on to your hats, because it’s gonna be a roller coaster!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, reference to childbirth, 

******************

January 16, 1986

London, United Kingdom

Seven days. One week. That was all that was left until baby Bulsara-Hutton’s projected due date. Of course, these things were never completely accurate, and if Freddie was indeed her biological father, it was more than likely that she would be fashionably late. Nonetheless, every day that went by since the beginning of the new year had Nadia growing more uncomfortable and more nervous about the last leg of her pregnancy. Every resident at the Garden Lodge was on tenterhooks, but it went without saying that Freddie and Jim were by far the most anxious out of everyone. They hardly let their surrogate mother out of their sight, and even went so far as to bring her along to Queen’s recording sessions, as per Freddie’s wishes. As a result, this meant everyone else involved with Queen was also concerned about Nadia, and were all prepared in case anything were to go awry in the middle of their work.

It was a normal afternoon, well, as normal as it could be with an impending baby and the anxiety that came along with her, and Freddie, Jim, and Nadia were getting ready to go to Townhouse Studios for yet another day of recording. As Nadia waddled over to the coatroom to retrieve her jacket, as London had hit a mild cold spell, she noticed that Tiffany the cat kept on following her wherever she went. It was relatively normal for the cats of the Garden Lodge to occasionally follow her around and keep tabs on her, as they were very much aware of her pregnancy, but something seemed abnormal about the way Tiffany in particular was glued to her side at all times today. She even clawed up some of the furniture in reaction to Phoebe not letting her follow Nadia when she got up to use the bathroom a couple hours ago. Although the reason for Tiffany’s sudden increased territorial behavior was a mystery to everyone else, they shrugged it off and went about their business the best they could and tried to accommodate her when possible. Now, she was following Nadia into the coatroom, observing her with concerned eyes, as if she knew something would happen soon. Of course, Nadia was too flustered to consider this, and put on her coat before picking up the cat and placing her back into the living room.

Freddie came down the stairs shortly afterwards, hopping down in excitement to see his daughter’s mother standing before him. Once he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and a light pat on her tummy, he commanded her to sit down as he helped put on her shoes. “Is your back feeling any better, darling?” he asked her in reference to the shooting pains she began to feel down her back as of last night as he put on one of her boots. Nadia shook her head in response as she winced, feeling one come in that very moment. Freddie took a moment to place his hand on her lower back and press lightly around the base of her spine. 

“It could be any day now, couldn’t it?” He softly whispered as he continued rubbing the spot where she kept feeling a dull pain that couldn’t be completely relieved. 

Nadia looked down at her belly in a slight resentment and scoffed, 

“It better be soon. I can feel her dropping down little by little. Hopefully that means she wants out.” 

Freddie couldn’t help but smirk as brought the hand that was on her back to stroke her belly. 

“Please give your mum a break, darling. No pressure to come out immediately, but still.” He cooed jokingly to his unborn daughter, who seemed to sense her impatient father, as she started shifting and kicking right under his hand. 

The room was quiet for a moment or two before Nadia glanced at her wristwatch and jumped, 

“We should get going. Shouldn’t keep the boys waiting.” 

As she tried to get up, Freddie insisted she stay put as he finished tying her other shoe. 

“They can wait. They’d be shocked if we were at all punctual.”

Once Nadia tried to stand up, Tiffany hopped into her lap and practically glued herself to her belly. 

“Tiffany, girl, your dad and I need to get going.” Nadia sighed and tried to brush her off, but the cat would not move and got even more stubborn at each attempt to remove her. 

“What has gotten into you, princess? This isn’t quite like you at all.” Freddie chuckled, but then pulled her off of Nadia after struggling for a substantial amount of time. 

As he tried to carry her to the other room, she dug her paws into the wall and proceeded to leave long claw marks all the way up the stairs. 

“Shit!” Freddie groaned under his breath as he witnessed this and irritatedly pulled Tiffany into the master bedroom, her claws still scratching up the wall until he placed her on the bed. 

“Phoebe will let you out if you promise to behave yourself. I need to go, but I will be livid if you continue on and on like this!” He spat, really not wanting to scold his beloved pet, but at this moment she left him no choice. 

As he went back down the stairs and thought about how he’ll need to repaint the walls, he grew concerned about Tiffany’s sudden change in temperament today. Sure, she was moody and sometimes unpredictable, but she never used her claws unless she sensed something was seriously wrong. Could she sense if there’s something wrong with the baby? Freddie thought, but immediately dismissed the idea as he walked to the front door. Jim, Nadia, and Phoebe were already there, waiting for him before they left the house and piled into the car.

The drive to Townhouse Studios was mundane and uneventful, save for Nadia nearly giving everyone else a stroke when she suddenly gasped in pain, but she quickly waved it off as a Braxton-Hicks contraction, much to everyone’s relief. Once Phoebe dropped them off at the studio, it was business as usual, with the band setting up equipment and Jim and Nadia sitting seats in the sound booth with Miami as they had been doing for the past couple weeks. Nadia enjoyed watching Queen record. It distracted her from the bodily discomfort that was pregnancy, not to mention that Freddie would prance around in there as if he were on stage, which was always entertaining to watch. Due to her present condition, he or one of the other boys in the band would quickly glance back at her as they were playing, just to check on her.

Nadia spaced out as she listened to what seemed to be the hundredth take of “One Year of Love” until she felt another Braxton Hicks contraction. The frequency of these seemed pretty normal the past couple of weeks, as her body was practicing for the big day, but this one seemed a bit stronger than previous ones. She tried to stifle a moan as she clutched her belly and tried her best to breathe through her clenched teeth. Freddie must have noticed through the glass partition because he immediately stopped recording vocals and brought everyone else to a grinding halt. 

“Darling, are you alright? Is it time?” he asked her with widened eyes, taking a moment to glance at Jim who grabbed onto her hand. 

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s just another practice one,” Nadia dismissed his concern, “Please carry on.” 

The boys shrugged, but resumed recording at her insistence, with Freddie singing while standing much more still than he usually did, never taking his eyes off of her.

The same sequence of events happened about half an hour later, only the pain felt by Nadia was much stronger and pierced through her like a knife. Once again, she waved it off, although the possibility that she might actually be in labor became more likely. It wasn’t long until she suddenly felt a stream of warm fluid rush out between her legs and gasped loudly at the sudden shock of her water breaking, causing Jim to jump up from his seat and motion everyone to stop playing. As a unit, Freddie, Brian, Roger, Deaky and Miami all turned their heads to them with wide eyes, and there was a moment of absolute silence, which was only broken when Freddie asked nervously, 

“Is it…” followed by Jim grimly nodding in response. 

All time seemed to stop and there was an utterly intense silence, preceding what could only be described as total chaos.

The next few hours at Townhouse Studios were swallowed up in pandemonium, as if the world was suddenly coming to a disastrous end. Freddie initially insisted that he and Jim take Nadia to the hospital right after her water broke, but Jim reminded him they would need to wait for a while until her contractions were close enough together before they could go there.

While Nadia was still in her seat and trying to brace herself for each contraction and Jim was beside her reminding her to breathe and stay calm, Roger was running around the room screaming bloody murder, only to be silenced when Nadia yelled at him, 

“Excuse me, but I’m the one having the fucking baby here!”, which she later apologized for. 

Brian and Miami couldn’t help but look on at the drummer in amusement while the former was simultaneously counting the money he earned for betting correctly on the baby’s due date with the rest of the band (he betted on week thirty-nine, of course). Deaky decided to take a more helpful approach as he timed Nadia’s contractions and how far apart they were with a stopwatch and having her squeeze his hand each time, mentioning how he did this with Veronica for their third and fourth children.

Freddie, in the midst of all this, was sitting down at the piano, almost motionless, with his face white like a sheet. This carried on for what seemed like eternity, until Jim said to Nadia, 

“Relax, dear. She’ll be here very soon and it will all be over,” causing everyone, with the exception of Freddie, to pause whatever they were doing and ask incredulously, 

“She?! It’s a girl?!” 

Jim covered his mouth embarrassingly, realizing that he had just spilled the beans and practically ruined a Queen tradition: Every time one of the members of Queen was expecting a child, they wouldn’t reveal the gender to the others and would wait until the baby was born until they did. This resulted in each band member contributing to a betting pool on the gender and whoever was correct would win a considerable amount of money. Only this time, the baby’s gender was revealed a little too early, but it ended with Brian winning again, since he placed an additional bet on the due date, quipping, 

“Alright, boys, pay up. I’ve hit the jackpot on this one.” and began counting his winnings again with glee.

About two to three hours later, Jim suggested that she get up and start walking around in order to ease the pain. She complied and stood up with his help and began waddling the best she could. As soon as Freddie saw this, he snapped back into reality and walked around with her and Jim, helping his husband catch her every time she felt a contraction and became weak in the knees. Whenever that happened, he held her tightly and squatted down with her whilst scrambling to put his coat on the floor beneath her. Miami noticed what he was doing and asked, 

“Freddie, what the hell is that for?” 

“Hush, now. It’s just in case the baby suddenly slips out.” Freddie replied sassily. 

Miami just rolled his eyes, knowing that it probably wouldn’t be needed, but understood that it made the soon-to-be father feel a bit better about the situation.

Soon enough, Deaky announced that Nadia’s contractions were about five minutes apart, and it would be an appropriate time to take her to the hospital, much to Freddie and Jim’s relief. Roger offered to drive them, while the rest of the band agreed to stay put in the studio and wait for any further updates, at least until the evening. As Roger escorted the three nervous parents-to-be to his car, he opened the trunk to reveal a few pillows and towels, mentioning something about how he had them there for a couple weeks in case this exact scenario were to happen, as he set them up in the back seat. As Jim accompanied Nadia into the back, Freddie got into the front passenger’s seat beside Roger, never taking his eyes off the duo behind him. He anxiously observed Jim rubbing Nadia’s back and squeezing her hand, but was reminded why he fell in love with his sweet and caring husband in the first place. He reached his hand over to rest Nadia’s knee and tried to silently communicate to her how wonderful she was doing. His thoughts were interrupted when Roger recklessly drove over a pothole, which made the car shake roughly, causing Freddie to fly into a heated rage. 

“What the fuck was that, you twat?!?!? You could have fucking killed us! Did you forget she’s having a baby back there?!?!?!!?” 

He went on to shout a series of expletives at Roger, who tried to reason with him the best he could, but i instead escalated the argument by hurling insults back at him, though he knew it was just his friend’s nerves talking. They went on like this for several minutes until they were silenced by Nadia’s pained cries and Jim calmly shushing her, which drastically changed Freddie’s focus as he resumed tending on the surrogate mother.  

“Don’t worry, darling, we’re almost there,” he cooed before joking, “Just try and keep the baby in until then.” although he was well aware that it wasn’t entirely up to her. 

Roger remained silent, but would occasionally look at her through the rear view mirror.

The route to the hospital usually took about fifteen to twenty minutes in total, but due to the typical evening traffic in London, it was lengthened to about forty-five minutes, much to Freddie, Jim, Nadia, and Roger’s dismay. Luckily, Nadia’s contractions didn’t seem to be getting any closer together, so there wasn’t too much concern. As Roger’s car slowly pulled into the Lindo Wing at St. Mary’s Hospital, Freddie jumped out and opened the door to help Jim and Nadia out, then helped the latter climb up the steps to the hospital entrance. A nurse was waiting at the the door and came down to meet them to accompany them inside while shielding them with an umbrella so that no one would know that Freddie Mercury was checking in. While all of that was happening, Jim stayed behind to talk to Roger briefly. 

“You’ll be fine in there,” Roger assured the Irishman, “Just be there for Nadia and make sure that Freddie doesn’t completely lose it. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can do that for him.” 

Jim nodded in response before Roger continued, 

“I’m going back to the studio to wait with everyone, please give us a call when it happens. Best of luck to the four of you.” 

He smiled before hugging Jim the best he could, given he was in the car. Jim was impressed by how mature Roger had been in that moment, as he was normally quite childish and untamed, but he was a father after all.

As Jim ran up the steps of the hospital, he nearly barged inside to meet Freddie and Nadia, the latter of whom was now in a wheelchair. He hurriedly went to the receptionist to check in under a pseudonym as planned and returned the pair before they were all surrounded by a legion of nurses and orderlies who followed them into the delivery wing to once again conceal their true identities. Jim looked over to his husband, who he noticed was starting to sweat bullets, and reached out to squeeze his hand. 

“Are we ready for this, Freds?” he asked, earning a squeeze back and a reply, 

“I hope so, darling. We better be fucking ready.”

To Be Continued...

****************

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[feelingfredly]

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Chapter Five

Come Into My Parlor

The office building was as non-descript as humanly possible, but the security system was intense. Ichigo counted fourteen cameras from the front door to the office where he was now sitting.  

He wondered how many he’d missed.  Probably as many as he’d seen.

“I still don’t understand. Why me?”

Tsukabishi Tessai was as quietly efficient behind a desk as he had been zip stripping the armed and dangerous.  Talkative, however, he wasn’t.

“Kurosaki-san,” he said. “As I stated before your skills are quite impressive…”

Ichigo raised a hand and stopped him.

“Look.  I’m sorry to be rude, but my skills, as you put it, are not the question.  The question is why me?”

Ichigo forced himself to sit back in the wooden chair, trying to appear as relaxed and professional as he possible.  It was a challenge. Ever since he’d received the note at the dojo, he’d been on tenterhooks. He’d replayed every detail of the fight at the coffee shop, had wrung every possible meaning out of the conversation he’d had with the mysterious blond man in geta.  The waiting was excruciating. Now, he finally had his answers within reach and the interview was going in circles upon circles of nothing, well…  it was too much.

“Except for the series of unfortunate events that led to our meeting at the coffee shop yesterday, there is no reason for you to either know who I am, or be interested in hiring me to do anything.  Yes,” he waved at the documents neatly spread across the desk across from him, “you’ve assembled quite a bit of information about me in a frighteningly short period of time, but still, that is not an explanation of  why me?”

The larger man might have sighed.  He looked at Ichigo intently.

“When you came to Urahara-san’s assistance at the coffee shop, you put yourself directly in danger, without pause or question, simply because you believed it was the right thing to do.  You did it in such a way that there was no damage to the premises or civilians, and you had the skill and presence of mind to undertake field dressing wounds so that there were no further complications from the action.”

“You have as high a level of martial arts training as many members of the Onmi corps, and a much higher level of medical expertise, but more than that, you employed all those skills simply to protect the people around you in general, and Urahara-san in specific. It was, as my associate said at the time, both surprising and appreciated.  Possibly more appreciated because it was so surprising.”

“This,” he waved a large hand to indicate the offices around them, “is a branch of the Onmitsukido, and Urahara Kisuke-san and I work in support of that agency. Urahara-san’s work, in particular, has brought him to the attention of a particularly unsavory group of people. They are not likely to take yesterday’s setback well, nor are they likely to stop there.  He is, unfortunately, likely to be targeted by such an attack again, and soon.”

Ichigo nodded. The two men he’d seen in the coffee shop had clearly been trained professionals,  but they were muscle not brains.  It only stood to reason that the brains were still out there, and probably had more muscle to order around.

“Urahara-san is a brilliant man, but his attention is better focused on finishing his research than on self-defense.”

The whole situation seemed crazy, but he’d seen the attack in the coffee shop with his own eyes. Bringing in a stranger as some weird bodyguard, though, made even less sense that the rest of it. The Onmitsukido was the governments most elite stealth operations, only ever mentioned in hushed tones after they’d managed to stop some mysterious threat or another to the public safety. They could have their pick of people to protect Urahara and his project.

“That still doesn’t explain…” He was cut short when the door behind him opened and Urahara Kisuke walked in.

“Kurosaki Ichigo-san!” His voice had a new sing-song tone, but was otherwise the same.  The clothes looked the same, too, right down to the geta, but something about his posture was different. More purposeful.

“I told you we would meet again.  Who knew it would be so soon?”

Ichigo felt his heart rate kick up a notch, but at least he hadn’t jumped in his chair. That would have been embarrassing. He dipped his head in a brief bow and then looked back into clear gray eyes that were framed by ridiculously long lashes.  

Not that he noticed, or anything.

“I was certainly surprised.” That sounded reasonable, and not nearly as smart-assed as he usually was.

“I’m sure you were, Kurosaki-san.  I’m sure you were.”

The blond moved into the room and stopped beside the desk.

“I told you it wouldn’t work, Tessai-san.”  He smiled like a proud parent and Ichigo frowned as the man pulled a white fan from his sleeve.  It was covered with lotus and looked like something Yuzu would have played with when she was little and fascinated by geisha. “Kurosaki-san may be impulsively protective in the face of danger, but he is clearly too intelligent to be lured in by pretty promises and flattery.”

Ichigo watched as the fan move slowly back and forth. Long fingers gripped the lacquered handle with a grace that felt out of sync with the silly image the man projected, like he’d handled the cane at the coffee shop, and he cataloged the information along with all the other contradictions.

“First let me say that I am very happy that you accepted Tessai-san’s invitation. Whether anything else arises from our visit today, I am pleased to be able to thank you again for your actions yesterday.”

Ichigo felt his face heat. He hated this kind of thing, unnecessary compliments and niceness, and wished they could just get back to the questions he wanted answered.

“I told you yesterday, it was nothing.  Anyone would have done the same.”

Urahara stopped fanning himself and gave him a look.

“No, no, no,” he said it teasingly, but it had a little bite to it.  “You’re smart enough to know better than that, too.  If you hadn’t jumped in to help me, no one would. And if by chance someone else had tried? They’d have probably been shot for their trouble, and who knows how my morning would have gone.”

Ichigo flinched at the baldness of the statement, but didn’t argue.  There was no point. Hell, his mother had died because no one was willing to help her.

“So, you are special.  You know it. Tessai-san knows it.  I certainly know it.”  

The blush was back in force.

“But you wanted to know why you’ve been called here, offered a position wildly outside the experience of someone training for med school, when for all intents and purposes the Onmitsukido is the place where other people come to find protectors.”

Ichigo nodded briefly.  Now they were getting somewhere. “That’s about the size of it.”

The blond waved a languid finger and smiled behind his fan.

“I’m afraid that Tessai-san has been avoiding the real reason we chose you for this position. You see, we have a bigger problem than someone trying to kill me.” Urahara gave a strange laugh.  “Someone always wants to kill me.”

“This time is different, though.” He dropped into the vacant chair next to Ichigo with boneless grace and leaned his face close. “Can you guess how?”

Ichigo thought about it for a moment and came to a quick conclusion, the pieces finally falling into place. He sucked in a breath.

“Someone is selling you out.”

Urahara’s gaze narrowed, focused, and Ichigo shivered at the approval there.

“Oh Kurosaki-san,” he said. His voice dropped a little. “You are a constant surprise.”

Ichigo felt his stomach tighten and flutter at the approval in that voice, and he couldn’t deny that he’d like to hear it again.  A lot.

“Since you were seen with me yesterday, and were so friendly…”  Gray eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter and Ichigo didn’t know whether to be flustered or annoyed.

He was going to go with annoyed for now. It was safer.

“It would make perfect sense if you continued to be seen with me.  Then Tessai-san would have the peace of mind of knowing that the eldest of the honorable Lieutenant Kurosaki Isshin would be looking after me, we wouldn’t have to worry about being betrayed from within, and you…”

Urahara tapped Ichigo on the arm with the little white fan, his face suddenly open and guileless and totally, totally unbelievable.

“You would have all the time in the world you needed to write.”

***

Kisuke almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

He’d arranged to watch the interview from the next room, and could read the resistance building in the young man’s eyes and spine. ��Kurosaki’s instincts were good—he knew something was wrong. But Tessai was stubbornly sticking to the script, and if he wasn’t careful they were going to lose him.

Kisuke wasn’t about to let that happen.

Sure, he’d been upset that Yama was being heavy handed and insisting he needed a keeper, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened, and he was absolutely certain it wouldn’t be the last.  The key was to abide by the letter of the decree just enough to piss the old man off, without ever giving him the satisfaction of what he wanted.  Then he would think twice about making some asinine demand the next time. Rinse and repeat.

That wasn’t the only reason they were looking bringing him into the fold. Kurosaki was going to be in danger until Kisuke could make certain that no one was going to turn him or his people into collateral damage. At least this way he could keep him close and fulfill the letter of the Director’s law. The writing thing was lucky break. Everything had been going so fast he hadn’t had time to do a deep dive into the young man’s background, but he’d managed to track down one of the coffee shop’s attendants early that morning. Turned out that the redhead was a regular fixture, sitting in his corner typing madly on what he hoped would be a best-selling thriller.

Throwing it into the conversation was a calculated risk, but anyone who put off med school, and invested that much time behind a keyboard had to have a weak spot, and he had to know that being in the heart of the Onmi would be the best research he could ever hope for.  Hell, after a few weeks in the heart of Spook Central, he should be able to write a doozy.

If they let him publish it.

“Does that address your questions, Kurosaki-kun?” Tessai asked.  

Kisuke watched the emotions flitting over Ichigo’s face, and raised his fan to cover his own interest.

He’d watched the brown eyes flicker from suspicious, to confused, to fascinated.  They’d shone with an intelligence that Kisuke’d only hoped for, and then they’d shone with something else that Kisuke wasn’t sure was a good idea to even notice, not to mention hope for.

“Some of them. You mentioned a medical role.” Those same amber eyes focused on him, understanding instinctively that while Tessai might be talking, Kisuke was the real driver in the room.  “I don’t want to give up my position at the clinic if it means that I won’t have the appropriate recommendations and experience if,” he stopped and corrected himself with a stammer, “when I apply to medical school next fall.”

Kisuke smothered a smile.  Gotcha.  

“Of course, Kurosaki-san,” he said, carefully putting his feet together in front of him and leaning forward.  “As you saw yesterday, your medical skills will be absolutely necessary if we are faced with another situation like the one at the coffee shop. Plus, we can list you as Onmitsukido medical staff.  Between Tsukabishi-san and Director Yama-san, I can promise that you will have suitable recommendations if the needs arise.”

Kurosaki didn’t even flinch at the if.

“We would never want you to take a position that would endanger your future.”

A fierce frown creased the young man’s forehead, and Kisuke knew this was the moment of truth. He snapped his fan closed, and leaned forward.

“I know this is all very sudden, and that you’re facing an enormous decision. Trust me, though. You are perfect for this position, and I would be forever grateful if you could find it in yourself to help me again.”

***

Ichigo held out his hand and Tsukabishi Tessai put the job offer  in it without a word.

He looked it over and shook his head. This was insane.  Absolutely fucking nuts. But… he couldn’t deny the buzz of excitement keeping him on the edge of his seat, and the man sitting next to him wasn’t helping.  He lounged in the chair, waving that stupid fan, every muscle relaxed and oh-so-carefully non-threatening and Ichigo thought he looking like nothing more than a wolf lazing in the sun.

The man’s physical appeal was the least of the mysteries, though. Ichigo forced himself to focus on the papers instead.

“This isn’t right,” he said, as he scanned the document. “You can’t seriously be suggesting that I move into an apartment in this building?”

Urahara crossed his long legs, swinging his foot a little, but it was Tessai who answered. “I’m afraid so, Kurosaki-san.  On one hand, you would need to be available to accompany Urahara-san, sometimes on very short notice, and on the other, having you on site would assure that whoever is passing along private information would be aware enough of your presence for it to be a deterrent.”

The man in question smiled behind his fan.  “Surely it wouldn’t be so difficult, Kurosaki-san.  I promise you’ll have all the comforts of home.”

Ichigo scowled at him.

“But I have an apartment, and a roommate. I can’t just abandon him.”

Something vaguely displeased flashed across Urahara’s face, and then disappeared.

Tessai spoke up.

“We would never expect you to do something so rash, Kurosaki-san.  If you look on page three of the job description you will see that there is a stipend noted of up to three hundred thousand yen per month that is not included in your salary.  The stipend is to be used to hold your current residence while you are working with Urahara-san, so that if your role here were to come to an end, you could return to your apartment with a minimum of difficulty. If, however, you wanted to forgo your current residence, that stipend could be rolled into your income.”

Ichigo stared. Three hundred thousand yen, on top of his salary? That was almost three times what he made working at the clinic. And he’d have all the time he needed for his writing!

“We would, of course, arrange for you to have days off when I would assume the protective detail for Urahara-san, however we would prefer not to set a definitive schedule. Unpredictability is important to effective security measures, and I’m afraid that you might find yourself targeted as well if you were to come to be seen as both too big an obstacle and too easy a target to track.”

Ichigo filed that piece of data away, and flipped through the pages again.

“How long would this contract last?” If it was just a couple of months, he’d be able get his job back at the clinic easily.  They were always understaffed, and the director had a crush on his dad. Longer than that, might be a problem.

Tessai gave an indeterminate shrug.  “The duration of the need is unknown.  Once Urahara-san’s project has been completed, it is possible that the threats to his safety will disappear.  However, it is also possible that whoever it is will continue to target him, knowing that having access to him would provide them with all the insight into this project, or others Urahara-san has been a part of over the years, that they could want. In the meantime, one of our sister agencies will be undertaking an independent investigation.  Hopefully they will be able to find and stop the threats that currently exist, the data breach, and prevent the danger from spreading.”

“So,” Ichigo pushed his chair back to where he could see both men.  “I would be acting as temporary eyes and ears, body guard, and potentially emergency medical personnel.  I would live on-site, but would have irregular days off.” He waved the stack of papers in his hand. “What about the NDA?  I assume any information I am exposed to here would be proprietary, but is that the extent of it?”

Both men shook their heads.  

“Again, I am afraid not Kurosaki-san.”  Tsukabishi-san looked tired of saying that. “We believe that while within the agency your role may be known, it would be better for outsiders not to know the details of your position.”

Ichigo stared at the man behind the desk.  Surely he couldn’t mean…

“How am I supposed to explain to my family and friends, then? Plus, my roommate already knows about the job offer.  We were together when your note was delivered.”

Urahara had that look again,fan nowhere in sight.  “I’m sure we can figure something out, Kurosaki-san. We’ll just have to decide on a version of the truth to share with them.”

The wheels were already turning in Ichigo’s head.  Renji wouldn’t like him moving out, but he wouldn’t throw a fit about it. His dad, though… that would be a bigger problem.

“It’d have to be good to fool my dad.”

Kisuke looked at Tessai who inclined his head a fraction.

“Perhaps fooling him won’t be necessary.”  The blond was bland as cream, and Ichigo realized that probably wasn’t a good sign. “It has been a long time since I’ve seen your father, maybe it is time to renew our acquaintance.”

“What?” Ichigo’s brain screeched to a sudden stop, and he stared at the blond aghast.  “You know my dad?”

“Don’t worry about it, Kurosaki-san.” The sing-song tone was back and Ichigo worried.  “I’m sure it will be fine. He is a reasonable man. For everyone else, we can just build on your exceptional performance yesterday. Anata.”

All the air in the room disappeared, and he tried to swallow through a suddenly dry mouth.

Pretend to be involved?  With him?

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m rarely serious, Kurosaki-san, it’s boring and it causes wrinkles!” Pale blond bangs flopped forward as Urahara chuckled. “But… surely you see that as a solution it is quite elegant. It would cover all the necessary bases, would explain the time we were together, and would discourage nosiness from all but your closest friends and family.  Unless, of course, there is someone that already fills that position? I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

“No,” the denial was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and Urahara looked pleased. “I’m not seeing anyone steadily at the moment.”

“That is fine then!” The fan reappeared and Ichigo couldn’t help but feel a little disappointment as he lost sight of Urahara’s smile. “Does this mean you’ll take the position?”

Ichigo thought over all the pros and cons, and took a deep breath.  

“Where do I sign?”

[savinscripts]

CHAPTER 5:

❝ I used to dream about escaping my ordinary life, but my life was never ordinary. I had simply failed to notice how extraordinary it was. ❞

Faye’s knuckles were white as she gripped the arm of the seat. She was sat as far from the window of the plane as possible, on the aisle seat, but that didn’t help the rumble and jerk of the craft as they hit a spot of turbulence. She pressed her eyes closed and gritted her teeth. It passed soon enough, and as they smoothed out, Faye called for the stewardess. “Can I get six bottles of whatever liquor you have? Please?” She handed the woman a few bills. “However much that’ll get me.”

The woman merely took the money and nodded, and brought Faye what she asked for. “Thank you,” Faye said. She twisted the top off the first bottle and turned it back, wincing and coughing a bit as she swallowed. “I fucking hate flying,” she said to herself, twisting off the top of the second bottle. Getting drunk enough so that she passed out seemed like a good idea.

Carrington merely glanced at her from the window seat. So much alcohol probably wasn’t a good idea. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned back to look out and the sky. At the clouds passing beneath the wings of the plane. They were halfway through their journey home. Well, to what would be home for awhile anyway. A place that Locke had said would be safe. Anything was better than where they’d been. Though as they slowly moved towards their destination, Carrington couldn’t help but wonder if things would change once they got there.

Ever since the other night in the alley, he hadn’t been able to summon the vitriol that had once been so easily tossed around. Not for Locke at least. Remy… she still managed to get under his skin. He’d snapped at her more than once since then. She’d been restless. Nervous even. Like someone that was expecting the sky to fall in at any moment. Perhaps it was the impending flight - which she was not enjoying - or perhaps it was something else. Whatever it was, she was on tenterhooks, and it was getting on his nerves.

So he decided to simply ignore her for now. He decided to simply ignore them both, as much as he could, until they got where they were going and figured out where the hell they went from there.

“Hadn’t noticed,” Fane commented drily as he glanced aside at Faye when she was screwing off the bottletops and promptly trying to drown herself in booze. Mostly because well, this was about the tenth time she had updated them to that particular fact. He was just thankful Carrington decided not to add his two cents to the mix, not wanting to have to put up with the pair of them bickering across him for the duration of a fourteen hour flight.

Things had changed, at least a little since the other night. Fane had noticed that Carrington hadn’t been so inclined to snapping his head off, he was more tolerant and patient. At least, Carrington was with himself, not so much Remy and more than once he’d been forced to try and solve whatever issue the pair of them seemed to have with one another. It was tiring, so the chance to sit for several hours and just sleep? Fane had taken that opportunity the moment it was offered.

To say Fane was stuck between two people at entirely opposite ends of the spectrum would be a rather apt and very literal description of his present predicament. Faye, the absolute image of nerves who looked like she was about to jump out of her skin if they hit another pocket of turbulence. While Carrington to his left was either dozing or staring out of the window. Fane had ended up putting in his headphones and jacking up the movies on the entertainment system to keep himself entertained for the most part. Cycling between killing a few hours with a film, playing a couple of games or watching the map update itself with their journey across the ocean.

Eventually the plane touched down in London, considering no direct flights existed between the other side of the pond and Scotland. It wasn’t too much longer before they collected their luggage (which they had stowed) and made their way around to the terminal for their connecting flight North. No papers had been checked yet thankfully, but Fane had made a phonecall to one of the contacts in his network to make sure they were integrated into the system. It wouldn’t do to get picked up at border security. An hour and a half after leaving London they landed, an hour with no issues at border security (thankfully) they were stepping out into the muggy weather of Scotland. Cold and a far cry from the humidity they had left behind sixteen hours before. Walking over to the rental office, Fane got the keys to a SUV and popped the boot so they could load their things into it and get on the road.

The moment they touched down onto solid ground, Faye heaved a sigh of relief. After nearly a day in the air, the hour and a half to Scotland was nothing. But once they were out of the last airport and on their way to the car - getting through security et al. with little to no problems, thank fuck - Faye had relaxed a hundred times over. The air was cold and brisk, but compared to the sweltering jungles they’d come from, it was heaven on earth to Faye. She just stood with her face turned into the breeze as the others loaded their bags.

Carrington had seemed a bit wistful as they’d touched down in London. Looking around the airport as if it was someplace he remembered from a long time ago. He’d been born not far from the city, but had moved there with his mother and stepfather when he was about fourteen. He missed it. Years had passed since he’d been back, despite his travels. But he didn’t say anything, just loaded onto the next flight, and watched it pass beneath them once more. He said just as little in Scotland, loading his luggage and waiting on Fane to do the same. He closed the boot once all was in, and even gave Faye a cursory, “Let’s go,” once it was time.

Faye sat in the back, content to watch the scenery roll by. Once they passed from the city and into the countryside, a small smile grew on her face as she watched the fields turn to forests turn to mountains. It was like a different world here. Not just another country, because of course that was true, but an entirely different plane of existence. Frozen a hundred years in the past. She didn’t say anything, merely watched with something akin to childlike wonder as they continued on to their destination.

Fane noticed the wistful look on Carrington’s features when they passed through the terminal, all around them was a somewhat familiar accent. Similar to the one their companion spoke with, and Fane wondered quietly to himself as they passed strangers how long it had been since he’d been here. Fane himself had been sent South

Following everything that had happened with his family. Boarded since he was six years old and hardly ever been back since, he’d lost his accent a fair while back now and hardly ever thought much on it. The less things to connect him back to this place the better, unfortunately, it seemed history had a habit of catching up with you no matter how much you tried to flee its grasp.

Once everyone was loaded up in the car, Fane slid in behind the driver’s wheel starting up the engine and switching the radio over to give them some background noise as they made their way long the last leg of their journey. His eyes scanned the signposts every now and then, though the address loaded into his phone served to help him navigate also. He couldn’t particularly help how his fists tightened just a fraction more around the steering wheel as they neared their destination however. Old memories creeping up on him, he said nothing, they needed somewhere safe to work and figure out what to do. The others didn’t have to know what had happened here, but it was the safest option they had.

Main roads gave way to rural country backroads that wound up and round through fields and forests alike. The car weaved the turns and zig-zags until their route flattened out some headed into the thick undergrowth of another forest road. Though a couple of trunks a large expanse of a loch of water stirred with small lapping waves on its prussian blue surface was visible. Fane gave no commentary, his eyes fixed on the stone gateway ahead slowing as they approached, “wait here.” Was the only thing he said before climbing out, leaving the engine running while he approached them.

Thankfully the gates weren’t down, and though he had to put his shoulder to the large gateway managed to force ancient hinges to turn with a shrill creaking grind of metal on metal. With them open, Fane walked back to the car and climbed back in. Putting it in gear he slowly guided the car through the passage and onto a road towards a granite estate backing onto the forest beyond. Arriving outside he parked up and sat back in his seat, staring up at it out of the window but shook himself out of his reverie quickly enough. No use dwelling, and Fane briskly strode around to the boot.

The urge to get out and explore was nearly overwhelming for Faye. She’d hardly ever been to Scotland on her journeys. Inverness once. Edinburgh another. That was it. And she’d never strayed from the city itself. London she’d been to several times. But again, she’d never stayed long. So this place, with it’s foggy mountains and it’s dark forests, looked to Faye like something from a dream. But she stayed in the car as Fane told them to wait, peering through the middle of the seats as both she and Carrington watched him at the gates.

The other man shifted as he watched Fane through the windshield, wondering if perhaps he needed assistance. But the way was opened soon enough, and they were moving again. Carrington merely glanced aside at Fane as he drove them forwards.

They pulled to a stop in front of a stone house that looked like it had come straight from a period movie set. Faye had noticed Fane’s quietness on the drive, but then they’d all been rather quiet over the course of the last day. Carrington speaking the least of all. Though even he looked at the house with what Faye interpreted as quiet appreciation.

They got out a few moments after Fane did, and Faye shut her door, walking a bit out from the car to stare at the estate. She turned in a circle, looking out at the loch, at the near-black water that reflected the setting sun. It was colder here than it had been at the airport, and Faye wrapped her arms around herself. The house was beautiful, but it looked… lonely. Like no one had lived there in years. The longer she looked, the more she noticed. While not completely taken by the elements, the signs of neglect and abandonment were still there. Ivy had taken over some of the higher windows. There was a broken pane in one of them. Grass grew in patches here and there in the gravel drive. Cobwebs hung in the doorway. She looked over at Fane who was still at the boot, masterfully ignoring the looming house in front of them. A glance at Carrington revealed that he was looking at Fane as well.

Carrington felt Remy’s eyes on him. He glanced over, but didn’t say anything. Only pressed his lips together in a well-used expression of irritation and moved to help with the bags. “Go unlock the door,” he said to Fane. “I’ll get these.” It wasn’t a question. He scooped up all three bags, shouldering two and moving to hand Remy her own as she stood staring back at the house again. “Close your mouth. You’ll catch flies.”

Faye merely blinked as her pack was shoved into her arms. “Only a few,” she muttered to herself. “The rest are buzzin’ around your bullshit attitude.” But she hefted her pack and followed towards the entrance.

Fane felt their eyes on him once the three of them were up and out of the car, but he pointedly ignored them and the looming grey building in front of them. Time had certainly done a number on it, but it was still standing he supposed that counted for something towards the builders who had set their minds to crafting its walls and spires. In comparison to other castles and estates in the area, the building was a relatively modest square-based design. Nothing overtly fancy but in its simplicity came a certain elegant beauty that rivalled its larger counterparts. Certainly more homely than a fortress. It was a beautiful sight, Fane knew, could appreciate it for that but it didn’t change the things that had happened.

It would need a bit of work while they were here, things patched and adjusted to make it habitable but between them Fane was sure they would get it up to at least livable conditions.

Of course he had fond memories of this place, but they were overcast in the lingering shadows of things that once were. Not to mention the infinite things that might have been. He was hanging by the boot, knowing eventually he’d have to go inside but not quite sure if he was ready to do so just yet. But they couldn’t linger here, Fane knew. So when Carrington circled around, Fane got to moving again and was about to protest when Carrington yanked all of their packs out in one go. Eyeing the other man for a moment, particularly as he went from silence to getting in a verbal teta-a-tete with Remy once again.

“For fucks sake,” was all he had to say at their present spat moving over to Carrington and taking his pack back with perhaps a little too much force. Tiredness bled over into frustration at their ongoing feud over who the hell knew what but before Carrington could say anything in response Fane was walking off. Moving to climb up onto a wall near the front door and root around underneath a couple of the tiles that made up the roof of the porch, it took a few minutes of blind feeling about until he came away with a triumphant noise. Hopping down a set of keys swinging from his fingers he trudged up to the door and started unlatching the locks, the last clicked out of the way and Fane pushed on the door which swung in revealing the silent and dusty interior of the abandoned place.

With a shallow exhale Fane stepped over the threshold, unlike what might’ve been anticipated it was bright inside; large skylights in the roof of the vaulted ceiling flooding the stonework with light. His boots echoed on the wooden floorboards of the foyer not really letting himself linger too much before he was breezing past a large oil-painting portrait on the wall, larger by contrast to the other portraits that hung on the panelling around but he had no mind for them, or the intricate embossings carved into their wood. He walked through the hallways pausing every now and then to glance through doorways and check the state of rooms still not having said a word of explanation. Not until he was certain that they would be secure here. It couldn’t be helped, but a little paranoia was healthy in measured doses. Especially in their occupation.

Carrington tried to keep his grip on the pack as Fane took it from him. But it was snatched away before he could say much of anything about it. So he said nothing. Merely watched with the same expression he’d given Faye. Who for the life of him, he honestly wouldn’t have been able to say why he was short with. He just… was. Perhaps it was the way they’d met. The way they’d been tossed together without so much as an ‘I’m sorry’ from either of them. Perhaps their natures were less forgiving than Fane’s. All Carrington knew for sure was that she irked him more than anyone he’d ever met. And he had no idea what to do about it other than be short with her.

Faye, on the other hand, thought she was trying to make friends with Carrington. She had certainly been worried sick when he and Fane had gotten into that street brawl. And had wanted to help him afterwards. But he’d brushed her off. It had taken Fane’s insistence to get the stubborn man to even let her clean his cuts. But she didn’t outwardly provoke him. She didn’t insult him. She wasn’t confrontational. At least not until he acted like a complete shit to her for no apparent reason. Was he trying to make her leave? Trying to be hateful and mean in order to force her away from him and Fane? The thought stirred to life her fears of being left behind. Of the two men - who she could tell were closer for some reason - banding together and cutting her out. Cutting her off. Abandoning her.

Faye swallowed and shouldered her bag. Following the others, she made her way into the foyer. She shut the door, being the last inside, and flicked the lock. Fane was moving off down the way, looking here and there, and Carrington was leaning against the wall nearby, watching him intently, his fingers rubbing a slow line across his bottom lip. Faye frowned, but didn’t say anything. She moved out into the space, turning in a circle and taking it all in. The picture caught her eye, but she only lingered for a moment before moving on. It was beautiful, she thought. Though a bit sad. A place like this… it was meant for light and warmth and laughter. For music and the smell of food cooking. Not cold and damp and neglect.

The others stayed behind, and perhaps it was for the best. Fane wasn’t sure he would be able to be around either of them acting the way they were without snapping. He’d been able to deal with it to a point, and while Carrington’s temper with him had eased some with Faye… He had no idea what was wrong there or how to fix it. But it wasn’t on his mind as he circled round, passing a sealed door and for half-a-second debated while standing outside of it… His eyes narrowed, head dipped and he moved on from the study that lay sealed behind the door. Not just yet. He did happen to find the electricity switch and after fiddling with that for a while managed to get it on. Whether things would work or not he couldn’t say but they’d just have to see where they ended up. The same went for the heating once he cranked the boiler into order.

Jogging up a staircase to complete a circle of the upper floors, coughing a little at the dust. It would need a clean down and a trip to the shops was needed to stock up the pantry but otherwise… It was passable save for the draft upstairs from the broken pane of glass. Though Fane vaguely remembered a storehouse out back. He appeared a while later, on the staircase leading down to the foyer where the others waited. “It’s safe, bit drafty and it needs a decent clean but… we’ll be alright here.” His voice echoed in the vaulted room “there’s rooms upstairs, I’ll show you both… You can have whatever one you want.”

As Fane busied himself with the lights and the heat, Carrington eventually pushed off from his perch and meandered around the large foyer. It was opulent. Or had been in its prime. The beauty was still there of course, under the dust and the cobwebs and the years of being forgotten. He wanted to ask how old it was. Architecture not being a specialty. But he refrained for now, thinking perhaps Fane would tell them about it later.

On Faye’s end, she looked around as well. She’d seen large homes before, more opulent than this one even. But she’d never lived in one. Back in New Orleans, she’d had a tiny apartment that was barely two rooms. So this was… she was a bit taken with it. She explored what she could of the foyer until Fane came back down with the all clear. And then the offer of bedrooms. There was no helping the excitement on her face. “Real beds? With real sheets and real blankets?” The hotel beds had been subpar. Though she suspected that whatever linen was still here most likely needed washing. A task she didn’t mind seeing to if needed.

“Lead the way.” She even smiled over at Carrington, who gestured that she should be the first to follow Fane back upstairs.

Fane didn’t bother descending the stairs, hardly seeing the point considering they would be headed back up in a moment. So he simply waited for the others to come and join him, leaning his hip against the wooden railing though realising moments later that his arm was covered in a film of dust that he brushed off, sneezing as some got in his nose. Cleaning was definitely a priority. “I know right, real beds with real mattresses and everything, most even have their own bathroom.” Not all, but most.

Once the others started up the staircase he spoke again. “There’s a few things that need fixing up, windows and the like… A couple of us will probably have to go to the supermarket to get food and washing detergent and stuff for the bedding and our clothes. There’s a Tescos about twenty minutes from here.” If there was one thing he always missed when trekking it was clean clothes that didn’t smell like stale sweat dried several times over not to mention some good food.

Arriving at a room on the front of the house Fane pushed open the door, the bedroom beyond was spacious and held a closet, drawers and large four poster canopy bed all made from glossed mahogany though it's shine was lost from the layer of dust on their surfaces. “This one’s nearest the library” Fane paused to point to a large stonework fireplace “all the rooms have radiators but it still gets a bit chilly from time to time so there’s log fires if needs be.” Figuring Carrington wouldn’t mind this one, Fane glanced over at him where he had wandered in to inspect the space having noticed several bookshelves within.

Still, Fane led them on to another down and around the corner from the prior room. The second was similarly furnished, more rustic in appearance with large floor to ceiling windows looking out towards the forest and mountains towering behind the estate. Similarly, a large double bed was spaced near another stone fireplace and a crest hung on the wall. They were both good spaces but there were others if they wanted to move. It hardly mattered really at the end of the day. “Either one of these or there are loads more but these are the two largest guest rooms we have here.” Fane didn’t mention his own unsure which room he would take if his own at all.

“Bathrooms too?!” Faye grinned. “Holy shit… no more beard hairs on the sink.” She let out a peal of laughter as she practically ran up the stairs to meet Fane. “Is there a bathtub? Please tell me there’s a bathtub?” A hot, steaming soak sounded better than sex right about now. The last time she’d been fully submerged in water she’d just been spit out of a mountainside after being shot at.

They started down the way, Carrington hanging back a bit as Faye bounded ahead slightly. “I’ll go to town with you,” she said. “If that’s alright?” Glancing back towards the two men, a slight look of uncertainty on her face. “I mean… I do know how to cook and do the wash. Just didn’t think…” Faye sighed. “Nevermind. Just… I’ll go if Winston doesn’t want to.”

Her excitement died down slightly after that, Faye feeling as if she’d said too much or been too exuberant.

Carrington didn’t say anything really, merely watching her as she bounced around with all the energy of a highly caffeinated rabbit. Truth be told, he didn’t care about going to town. He’d rather have a look round at what needed tending to most. What the priorities were in fixing things. He’d been too idle for too long, and the waiting was absolutely maddening. So now that they were here, with projects in the form of studying the relic and working on this safe haven Fane had brought them to, he felt like he could breathe.

And as Fane opened up the first room, the slightly stale smell of dusty linens and unmoving air wafting out, Carrington caught sight of a rather generous set of bookcases. This place could definitely grow on him. “I’m fine staying here if she wants to go,” he said to the others. “I can strip the beds and find some firewood.”

They moved on, Carrington following out of respect for being shown what he could only assume was Fane’s family home. But having already chosen the initial room as his own. He doubted Faye would mind.

The second room, Faye let out a breath as they went inside. The view was… spectacular. “Can I stay here?” she asked. “Please? Oh, this is…” There were no words she could find as she moved towards the windows and the sun behind the mountains. It was chilly, but the fireplace was close to the bed, and the radiator was closeby as well. She trusted Fane to know if the old things would work or not. Turning from the view after a bit, she moved around the room. The crest of the wall was interesting, and she made a note to study it more later. Once they were settled and things a bit more tidy.

“I think we should stay fairly close together,” Winston said out of the blue, from where he leaned in the doorway. “For safety’s sake.” He glanced between Faye and Fane. He didn’t know where Fane would be staying, but being within shouting distance didn’t seem like a bad plan. “Anyone opposed?”

Faye shook her head that she was in agreement. It was a good idea. All things considered. She looked to Fane for his input.

“Locke?” Carrington said softly, watching the other man as well. “It’s your place. Your call.”

“Hilarious,” Fane deadpanned as Faye all but bounded up the stairs in all honesty finding her enthusiasm rather adorable. “Most if not all have a bath and a shower,” Fane nodded in confirmation of this fact. At least, they did if memory served correctly. The offer to come to town with him was about to be met with yet another nod figuring Winston would want to stay here though the sudden change in her caused Fane to look at her quizzically, unsure what had brought it about entirely. “Uh hey, yeah! Sure. It’ll be good to have the company.”

Fane saw how Carrington eyed the space around them with a critical eye, likely seeking out odds and ends that needed tending to. The man needed a job as Fane had come to notice over their time together. “

The bookcases were full of all sorts of things, fiction, non-fiction and several old poetry books. “That works, if you just strip the three rooms and leave the stuff in the laundry room downstairs we’ll put them on to wash when we get back…” how well everything would work was debatable but they’d just have to go with the flow of things. “If memory serves, I’m pretty sure there’s a storeroom outside too, if you wanted you could probably find some of the glass panes that’ll fix the windows too, you’ll probably find an axe in there too for firewood if you wanted some other jobs” Fane said to Carrington.

“Sure, wherever you feel comfortable,” Fane said simply in answer to her inquiry also because he generally wasn’t so sure how long they would be staying here for. It was a beautiful room, they all were, underneath the dust that had covered them all. But a bit of work would get them up to scratch in no time Fane was sure of that, and how it would look… It had always felt so empty, the thought of returning here after everything that had happened. Perhaps it would be easier with other people here.

“Yes, no yes you’re right…” Fane agreed with the other man’s remark and he’d been about to let slip a quip about whether it was just because Winston wanted to be near him. Teasing him of course. But considering everything he merely sounded his agreement. “Mine’s just up the hall and round the corner, big set of double doors. You’ll both probably want to wander around…” Fane paused before adding, “the only place I’d ask you to avoid is the study… But that’s locked anyhow so… don’t worry about it.” He knew his voice was a little tighter with that particular request, but it couldn’t be helped really. There was unfinished business there that needed tending to before Fane felt comfortable letting others walk into it.

“I guess there’s one other thing to say while we’re here-- You probably already know but… My name’s not Locke. It’s Fane, Fane Savin.”

“I’ve basically lived with you two for weeks. I don’t trust either of you to pick out much of anything edible that isn’t already cooked and plated. Plus I’d like to know the lay of the land.” The words held a hint of teasing, and she turned to look over her shoulder at them. “But really, I don’t mind laundry or cooking. It’s… normal.” She let out a little huff, shaking her head and taking another look around the space. “I think we could all use a bit o’ that.”

“For once, I agree,” Carrington said to Faye’s comment on normal. “We could all use a breather. If this place is as unconnected to you as you say it is, Locke, then I agree that we should be safe here for a good while.” He knew it was most likely not permanent, and that they would need a contingency plan in case they needed to get out quickly, but for now, Carrington let himself settle ever so slightly. And if he was honest, the thought of being able to use his hands for something other than firing a weapon or pummeling punks in an alley was fairly exciting. “Don’t worry about linens. They’ll be sorted when you get back,” he nodded. Carrington also made a mental note about the possible location of firewood and the axe in case the heat decided to give up the ghost. If it got too cold, they could all stay in one room to conserve it, he was sure. They were more than big enough and a mattress was easily movable. But they would cross that bridge when they got there.

Faye was surprised to hear Winston agree with her, but decided to just roll with it. She grinned her thanks at Fane as he said she could take the room. Honestly, she couldn’t wait to go to bed and be able to see the stars from under her blankets. She and Winston shared a rare questioning glance with each other as Fane told them the study was off limits.

“Fair enough,” she said.

Carrington simply nodded. Though both of them put in a pin in that particular fact, to be revisited later.

As Locke revealed his real name, Faye just grinned. “I like that much better than Locke.” She glanced at Carrington. “What about you? Your name really Winston?”

Carrington merely glanced between them from where he was leaned against the wall. After a moment, he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “In a for a penny, I suppose. No. My name isn’t Winston. It’s Carrington. Carrington Bishop. Formerly of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces.” He glanced at Faye. “That’s us two done. What about you, Remy?”

Faye chewed her lip, scratching her arm a bit uncertainly. “Ain’t like I’m hard to find. Um… name’s Faye. Delacroix. Of New Orleans. As if you cain’t tell.”

Fane snorted at her commentary on their respective cooking abilities but his grin was ever-present and not about to shift any time soon, “so what? You think we’d end up giving you food poisoning if we were let loose in the kitchen? But sure, you can come along with me.” He could certainly agree to her statement about them needing normal. Normal would be a welcome change after everything that had happened to the group of them.

Carrington’s agreement was a surprise though and Fane looked at him for a long moment before he glanced about the place. “well, as you can see it’s not been used in a long time…” Fane hadn’t used his name all that much since he’d decided to change it when he was younger. Not wishing to be associated with the legacy of this place and thus having all but run away only to end up coming home the long way around. “But it’s a plan, you start sorting the house while we get supplies then when we’re back we’ll muck in too.” Fane would have to check the systems just to make sure but he just hoped things were still in working order. They would just have to wait and find out.

Fane had been speaking from further inside the room and while looking at the view missed the shared look between the others. He was better for not seeing it. They didn’t need the trouble of knowing what had happened here. With the given confirmation of that he seemed to ease a little once more “then I’m going to see about getting us some funds… Because if we’re staying here we’re going to need clothes that are warmer than shorts and tank tops - we’ve only been here an hour and I’m bloody freezing.”

Though there was the issue of their true identities and with the revelations of the other’s names Fane’s smile grew a fraction more. “Well then, pleasure to make your acquaintances, and for the record I prefer both of those as well. So, let me go find a pad of paper and how about we meet downstairs in the kitchen in say-- fifteen? Settle in a little then, draw up a list or things we need them we’ll head off,” Fane said gesturing to himself and Faye.

With the group in agreement not too much longer they had a list of food and other necessary items (clothing mostly) that were needed. Not to mention a shit ton of cleaning and laundry supplies. With it all organised Fane ripped out the paper and pocketed it, “alright then…” looking over to Faye before he spoke again “shall we get going?”

“I didn’t say food poisoning,” she pointed out. “Just that it might not be edible. But… at this point I’d eat anything if it wasn’t in a stryofoam container.” It was agreed upon then that Faye and Fane would go to town for essentials, and Carrington would stay behind to sort the initial needs of the evening as far as the residence was concerned.

As Fane stated the painfully obvious, Carrington merely looked around and nodded. It was a bit sad that such a beautiful old place had fallen to disuse, but as a few more pieces fell into place - specifically the study being locked and off limits - Carrington started to realize there was probably a story there. It seemed that Faye did too as they two of them shared a look. But neither said anything, merely agreed to Fane’s wishes. Most things revealed themselves in due course, after all. Uncovering things hidden and secreted away was their line of work, after all. But it was for later. If ever.

Faye nodded that clothes would be good. They could see their breath in the air, and heat and a fire only went so far without the proper gear. Things moved on, and once they were organized, Carrington moved off back upstairs to start on the bedrooms, and Faye nodded that she was ready to go.

Once Carrington drifted off after Fane explained where any spare keys were kept and Faye indicated she was ready to go he started moving, the sooner they got to the supermarket the sooner they’d be able to get some semi-decent clothes. For now, though they would simply have to brave the weather outside and crank the heating up in the car. As they left via the same way they had entered, Fane glancing back over his shoulder as he trailed towards the jeep. There was something about being here that left him feeling uneasy, but he pushed those feelings away for now.

Climbing in behind the driver’s wheel he started up the engine, cranking the heat up to warm them up and adjusting the volume for something quiet in the background. Once that was done he put the car in gear and soon enough they were trailing back down the route they had followed to get to the tucked away residence. He said nothing as the residence grew smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror, eyes rather deliberately fixed on the road ahead.

Anything to not think about the memories being back here was dredging up, leaving him gripping the steering wheel just the other side of too tight. It was unavoidable really and Fane knew eventually questions would surface. They drove in silence for a while, but a glance aside at Faye said there was something on her mind. “What is it?” he eventually asked, better to rip the plaster off he supposed.

Faye rubbed her hands together in front of the heater vent as they drove off. It was frigid here, and even though she had cargo pants on, the light t-shirt and tank top did nothing to keep her warm. Though her climber’s jacket was fairly insulated, and she’d pulled it on over everything. Unlike Fane, the house only made Faye feel excited. For a hot bath, a soft bed, and real food cooked on an actual stove. She didn’t look back as they drove away, but ended up looked off out the window at the passing scenery.

Her expression settled into a frown as they got further away from the house. She hoped she hadn’t made things worse by wanting to come. Though Carrington seemed fine with staying behind. It was odd of him to be so agreeable with her all of a sudden. That only made Faye frown a bit harder. Was he trying to throw her off? Did he want her to feel like perhaps they were coming to some sort of accord now that they were here? She had no reason not to trust the man. But her experience told her that in the end, she would end up as excess baggage.

So, when Fane spoke, asking what was wrong, Faye blinked at first. She looked over at him. “Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Jus’ tired.” A tight smile and she turned to look back at the mountains and the trees.

Faye hadn’t done anything to make things worse, in fact, the more company they had was welcome it was simply… Fane had been anticipating more questions. About the house, about himself or well, more questions aboutanything. So to have received none from both Remy and Winston-- wait, no, Faye and Carrington he corrected himself. It left him wondering whether they had any at all, or what was going on to cause them to hold their tongues. He didn’t like being treated with kid gloves and a part of him was wondering if that was why they hadn’t asked. So he figured cutting straight to it may be more beneficial.

So, receiving nothing much more than an I’m tired caused Fane to look aside at her. “Definitely? Because…. If you have questions about stuff or…. If anything’s up you know you can trust me right?” A part of him had been hesitant to say trust, and he wasn’t sure how she would take it considering it had only been today that he’d even given her his name. Though even that was a sign that he was willing to trust them. He wasn’t sure how far their trust went, but Fane hoped they were at least somewhere near a point they could talk about some things. At least the things in their surroundings namely a certain six-foot man who could be a bit of an asshole.

But if she didn’t have anything to ask… Fane lapsed into a quiet state of thoughtfulness over everything watching the valleys and fields roll by in an never-ending window of green pastures.

Faye had questions. She had a hundred of them. But most were intrusive and overly personal. Or at least she thought they were. And mixed with her other thoughts about potentially being left behind, she was hesitant to press too deeply into Fane’s life just yet.

Fane.

The name made her smile a bit. It felt different, knowing who he was. In part. And the house was a part of him too. She was curious, but there was a vibe there that held her tongue. Something hidden away that was best let lie for now. So it wasn’t kid gloves she was using, it was respectful caution. Which was another thing entirely.

Faye looked at Fane for a long moment. She had no reason /not/ to trust him.Logic told her she could. Even her gut, which she relied on constantly, told her she could. “Yeah. I know,” she said. Turning to look out on the passing trees again, Faye chewed on a fingernail. “Why do you call yourself ‘Locke’?” It wasn’t too personal she hoped. Her own moniker wasn’t all that hard to figure out. Fane already had back in the jungle.

“And why would anything be up?” She huffed, but glanced aside at him. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t, but she would pretend. It’s what she was good at.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back at the house, as the car drove out of sight, Carrington turned down the hallway in the direction of the one place in this huge mansion that was apparently off limits: the study. He was struck with a sudden, overwhelming curiosity. Why this one room? When nothing else was? Perhaps it was just personal things that he didn’t want them traipsing through. Though Fane had seemed slightly odd since they’d arrived. Family ghosts, perhaps? Skeletons? All Carrington knew was that he was at least going to take a quick peek in the door. A dip into his pack for his lock picking kit, and he was steadily making his way through the house, testing to see which doors were locked. To see which one might be the infamous study.

The house, to a point Fane was willing to explain, what happened there not so much. It was a personal topic as the others had gleaned from his minor shift in attitude since their arrival there. More wary than he had been in any moment prior to that time. Fane always had a plan, a backup for that and a backup for that backup. Coming here hadn’t been truly anticipated, nor the proper preparation taken to mentally prepare himself for walking these halls required. A lifetime of running away only to end up right back at the spot he’d been fleeing for so long. Ironic really. But he supposed he should have at least somewhat anticipated it happening one day.

His attention was fixed on the road as he waited, debating whether or not it had been the right cause to ask her. To point out she could trust him. “Locke?” it wasn’t the first question he was anticipating, and thus caught him off guard. “Well, for one I enjoy the irony considering my occupation. For two?” Fane’s eyes drifted to the stretch of water nearby, “I guess it’s a nod to where I’m from too, a point to remind myself of who I am even if I do change my name but you’d want the Scot’s pronunciation loch.”

The huff was noticed but went uncommented upon, “I don’t know,” he thought on it for a moment before speaking “you sometimes seem-- nervous? Not so much since we’ve been here, but your-- behaviour changes every now and then. Like earlier-- you say something and you’re excited which is cool but then you suddenly reel it back like it’s wrong somehow.” It was odd, and Fane wasn’t quite sure why she did it.

-_-_-_-

Most of the doors he tested were open, and in his search for the infamous and off limits room Carrington was slowly developing his mental maps of their new home for the time being. He noted the doors, their locks and the occasional window that would need repairs. His wandering exploration ultimately led him through to the heart of the residence; a three storey tall library that he had to crane his neck to see the skylight set in the ceiling above. It was beautiful, and he was momentarily distracted in his admiration of the craftsmanship of this place (not for the first time either). After browsing a few of the shelves, he found himself turning back to his task at hand. If the study was anywhere logic reasoned that it should be nearby to the central hub of research that was the library. He couldn’t be far off, and with that in mind he continued his search for the door he anticipated would be locked up tight.

Faye got it. As much as they’d shared in the last couple of months, there were some things that just didn’t need to see the light of day. Ever. Faye had her own secrets. She was certain Carrington did as well. And while they were willing to share to a point - their true names being a start - the level of trust that was required for the deeper, darker parts of their lives hadn’t been reached yet. Faye doubted it ever would.

No one ever stayed that long.

She glanced at him as he answered her question and gave him a smile. “Savin isn’t exactly a Scottish name though is it? Unless you changed that one too?” Her gaze turned back to the water as he mentioned it. Black and still. Like glass. ���Do you have a waterhorse in your loch, Locke? I think I’d like to see one one day.” There were no such things as sea monsters, or loch monster. Or kelpies or fairies. Faye knew that. But it was fun to imagine.

Her whimsical thoughts disappeared as he commented again. She stared hard out the window, thumbnail finding it’s way between her teeth. There were a thousand different things she could tell him. A hundred different lies. But would it serve any purpose? Other than to add one more thing to the list of lies she’d had to keep up with over the years? They drove on for a bit, perhaps another mile or two, before Faye made up her mind to say something.

“I don’t… um…” She paused, smiling a bit nervously. “Carrington… he… he hates me. I don’t know why. I don’t… know what I’ve done. I try to be nice. Try to be helpful. But he’s just… a fucking dick to me.” The sound of exasperation that rushed out of her was a bit forlorn. Because she had no idea what to do. “I’m not… a sad person. I’m not… grim all the time like him.” Faye shook her head and looked away. “Sometimes I forget he hates me so much and that’s when I get excited about things. Then I remember… and…” She shrugged. There was another bit of silence.

“I think he wants me gone. It feels like… he’s tryin’ to drive me away. And I can’t say it’s not... nevermind.” That was all she said, the last being mostly to herself as she clamped down on the tightness rising in her throat.

~*~*~*~*~

Back at the house, Carrington finally stood in front of a locked door. He had tried the handle a few times, thinking maybe the years of disuse would have loosened the bolts. No luck. He then searched the surrounding area, the nooks and crannies, the raised edges along the walls. He even pulled a chair over and checked higher up for the presence of a hidden key. Still no luck.

So he’d replaced the chair and now stood in front of the door again, arms crossed over his chest. He could pick the lock. It was easy enough. Or looked to be. So what was he waiting for? Another minute of thinking. Finally, he pulled the kit from his back pocket and went to a knee in front of the door. It didn’t take him long to find the right bits from the kit, and soon he was working the lock with an expert hand. It took less than five minutes for Carrington to hear the tell-tale ‘click’ of the door giving up it’s secrets. He sighed and pulled the pins out. But instead of getting up and opening the door to take a quick look, he stayed where he was. Staring at the now unlocked door of the only room in the house Fane had asked them to stay out of. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he debated with himself. Fane would never know he’d been in there. Cari wouldn’t leave a trace. He’d never know the door had been unlocked either.

But Carrington would know.

“Goddammit.” The curse was muffled and short, and he wondered what the fuck he was actually trying to

accomplish here. Did he honestly care what was behind this door? He was curious, yes. But was it the be all end all of things he needed to know? If he was honest with himself then no. It wasn’t. He didn’t need anything from this. There was nothing behind that door that would benefit him in the least. Not even if it was filled with stacks of gold or pounds or silver pieces.

There was nothing in there but a loss of the trust he’d been given. A self-sabotage that he would have no one to blame for but himself. Was that was he was doing? Trying to give Fane a reason to distrust him? Before anyone got too close? Was that what he was doing with Remy? Faye, he reminded himself. Pushing?

With a growl of frustration, Carrington had the door locked again in less than a minute. He shoved off the floor - having more questions than he did before this ill-advised venture - and made his way outside. In the direction of the shed. Hopefully the ax was where Fane said it would be. Because he had the sudden urge to break something, and splitting firewood would at least benefit someone besides him. He’d been selfish enough for one day.

“I have no idea what you mean, Savin is a perfectly Scottish name” Fane’s voice raised a little as though he took offence to the notion but it dissolved in a laugh a little while later. “But you’re right, originally my ancestors were Romanian-- they ended up settling out here though.” A mild way of saying they had all but been driven out, but it was what it was and Fane wasn’t about to make a big issue over it not to mention he didn’t feel like now was probably the best time for a full family-history briefing. “A water horse?” Fane looked over at the water for a moment, “well, not that I know, but I’m not the sort to say there isn’t one.” Call him superstitious, or perhaps it was simply the people he’d grown up around but Fane simply didn’t have it in him to entirely deny the tales or beliefs of this or many other lands.

Every story had some origin after all. At least, it did in his opinion.

When she went silent, Fane figured he must’ve said something wrong. Or upset her. But when she started speaking, more skittish than she had earlier Fane studied her curiously. Indirectly of course, figuring looking at her straight might be a little unnerving and plus he was still driving. Listening to what she had to say his brows pinched a little “he doesn’t hate you. Granted he’s way too serious and a total jerk but he doesn’t hate you.” That much Fane was certain, a few weeks ago Fane might have agreed to a point but recently his opinions of the other man were subject to change considering the insight he’d taken the opportunity of utilising to try and understand why the other man was the way he was. “You’re not,” he agreed on the topic of her being a sad person but it was slowly starting to click “and you think you’re annoying him?”

What she said next though, that he felt deserved his full attention and with a flick of the indicators he pulled over into a small verge in the road. Putting the handbreak on he sighed, “I can’t speak for that… But I don’t think he wants you gone and I certainly don’t want you gone. I’m very fond of you actually,” he offered her a smile hoping it might ease some of the anxiety she seemed to be feeling. Fane tilted his head back against the headrest. “I think… We’re all complicated people and I think we’ve all been hurt a lot over the years to the point we’ve developed our own ways of trying to keep ourselves safe from experiencing that again.” He shrugged his shoulders, propping his elbow on the edge of the door. “But if it helps, I really don’t think he wants you gone.”

“Romanian, hm? Like… vampires and stuff?” She was kidding. Mostly. Like Fane, she believed that all myths had a basis in reality. And who were they that such things weren’t real? A belief that Fane unknowingly seconded a minute later when he answered her question about a loch monster. “I always heard they were gentle things. At least that’s what the stories I’ve read say. Maybe we’ll see one.”

Though her optimism faded when it came to Carrington. “How do you know?” she said a bit more sharply than she intended. Though Fane’s surety spoke to a level of closeness that Faye wasn’t aware of. Or seemed to at least. Carrington’s attitude with Fane had certainly changed since that night he got his ass kicked in that alley. Perhaps the fight had been more serious than either had let on. Perhaps there had been some… near miss that could’ve left one of them badly injured. Perhaps Carrington owed Fane a debt now. Faye’s mind ran in circles, and a small glance in Fane’s direction, followed by a sullen silence, answered his question. Yes, Faye thought she annoyed Carrington greatly.

She tensed a bit as Fane pulled the car over, glancing at him with a frown. What he said… Faye wanted so badly to believe it. Especially as he said he’d grown fond of her. Because she’d grown fond of him too, truth be told. And Carrington. Both despite her better judgement. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better,” Faye mumbled down at her hands. It seemed like the truth - him saying he was fond of her - and she returned the smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Keeping themselves safe was something Faye could understand completely. Too much heartache had passed through her over the years, too much guilt, too much shame… to let it happen again. And until these last couple of months, Faye had been mostly alone for a long time. By choice. So she swallowed past the tightness in her throat again, and made herself nod at Fane’s words. “I don’t wanna leave…” she admitted after a moment of silence.

“I promise I don’t bite much, unless someone wants it,” his grin grew a tad sly but much as it often was, the look didn’t last long before softening to something gentler. “Maybe we will, who’s to say what might happen.”

His fingers lightly tapped on the steering wheel, unfazed by the sharpness of her voice. “I--” Fane closed his mouth for a moment, turning to glance out the window himself now. “You know I’ve never given you reason to not trust me. So I’m not going to lie,” his fingers drummed again for a few beats “I can’t say for certain, because honestly I don’t really know anymore about him than you do but I just have a feeling there’s more to it than meets the eye and I think that’s the case for all of us to some degree or another.” Pulling his hand back Fane scratched at his chin the bristles having grown out a bit, “for whatever reason we’ve all chosen this job which leaves us isolated. Logic would suggest by that account we all have issues with forming-- connections with people, either we’re not enough for them, afraid of what they’ll do or… we just feel it’s better to be alone instead of risking the chance of being hurt… Probably all three.” He rubbed his neck then, looking over at her not unkindly but patient, thoughtful even “correct me if I’m wrong.” It was an insight into his thought processes, the deduction through which he came to his conclusions; funnelling ideas down until he came to a more concise theory.

“I’m not trying to make you feel better, I’m being honest with you. I want you here. I like having you here but Carrington--” Fane wasn’t sure how to put it. “He’s a soldier, I don’t know how long for but long enough that he doesn’t answer to anything other than a firm command.” Fane didn’t think Faye dim, he knew what his words might imply and as she started to speak or choose to question what he said he cut her off. “I fucked him,” as plain and simple as it was and the words brought about a rather concise end to what she had to say, “and beyond that I told him that he was going to get his act together or else because frankly I was fed up of his bullshit attitude.” Fane shrugged a little, his hand falling from his neck “but I thought it might make him less of a moody fucker, apparently not… But it doesn’t change the fact that I like you both a lot… And I wish I knew how the fuck I could help solve this because... I don’t want you to leave.” He turned to look at her directly then, but his voice remained quiet “I really do want you to stay… and not just because of what you can do… I want you to stay because I like and greatly enjoy your company.”

The comment earned him a small, genuine laugh. “Well, I’ll be sure to let you know when I’m in the mood.” Her cheeks flushed a bit, though she did seem happy with the idea - silly though it was - of possibly seeing a waterhorse.

She listened as Fane explained what he thought about the situation. It made sense. And more than once Faye had told herself that it was very, very hard to judge someone based off what one saw on the surface. Especially people like their small group. People that made up identities. People that made a living with lies and shadow games. But they were also people that figured things out. Figured out ways to get to things long-hidden. They worked puzzles, solved problems, translated dead languages, evaded the bad guys… surely this couldn’t be so hard, could it? Getting along?

When he asked her to correct him if he was wrong, Faye simply shook her head. Fane wasn’t wrong. Not about her at least. “Nobody has ever wanted me to stay. I’ve never... been enough.” Faye didn’t elaborate much further, but it was something at least. Some small insight into her own fears and insecurities.

Fane’s continued insistence that he didn’t want her to leave tugged at something in Faye’s chest. She wasn’t sure if it was fear, or dread, or… hope? Of the three, hope was the one that would hurt the most if she let it out and it got trampled on. So she kept it locked away for now, and merely nodded at the explanation of Carrington’s behavior. Faye had known plenty of soldiers across the years. A few she might have called friends in another life. But until Carrington, she hadn’t taken any sort of invested, long term interest in any of them. Because well… everyone left.

She opened her mouth to say something, but it promptly clapped shut as Fane blurted out what came next. Faye could only blink at him owlishly before looking away. That explained… well shit. That explained… almost everything. The change in attitude towards Fane. The way he had been so quiet that night- OH. Ohhh. Faye sank a bit in her seat. Had they really gotten into a fight? Or had they… beat the shit out of each other? She had even more questions now, but she could only turn and look at him again. Their eyes met, and Faye’s were full of uncertainty. Not distrust, but merely an insecurity about herself. About her worth.

“Why?” she asked. “Why do like my company? Sayin’ it’s all well and fine, but why?” Her eyes shone slightly, and they were tight at the edges. Fane didn’t have to answer, of course. But she wanted him to. She wanted him to very badly.

“Darling you let me know any time you like,” Fane said with a playful wink. He was glad to hear her laugh if only a little.

The small elaboration she gave was met with a nod of understanding, she didn’t have to say anything more than she had already. He’d already gleaned that much from what he’d learned about her so far in their time together. Insecurities often had a way of showing themselves eventually and Faye’s were making themselves blatantly and rather painfully obvious. Even so, it caused him to reach over and take her hand holding it with a small amount of firm pressure. “And I get that’s a hard thought process to change, but to me, to us you are enough.” In all honesty, Fane had come to care for the both of them a great deal in their time together.

Fane wasn’t quite sure what to make of Faye’s expression, or how she sat back. He kept a hold of her hand though, despite it all the pressure still firm and unyielding. Not willing to simply let go right now. So he figured he’d explain to a point “Yeah, I found him in the alley with a bunch of local thugs about to beat the shit out of him… And I was so done with him doing shit like that.. So I did the only thing that I could think of… I gave him a choice, to straighten himself out or to leave… He chose to stay.” So, Fane could only hope it was a sign that some things had changed.

But then she questioned why he liked her company, “why? Oh, well how long have we got? Because you’ve been a good friend to me when you didn’t have to be, been kind to me when you didn’t have to be even if the trust between us has been slow to form. That you did those things without expectation of receiving anything for it?“ Fane paused, “or maybe it’s because not only are you a good person, you’re an amazing woman who deserves the world and more. But I don’t want you for what you can do, or what you might bring to this team… Sure your skills are useful but they’re not the things that make me like you.” Fane looked down at their hands, toying with her fingers gently as it gave him something else to focus on. “I like the dumb fact that when you manage to get coffee you put a disgusting amount of sugar and creamer in it, and the fact you have a beautiful singing voice but you only sing in the shower when you think no one can hear.” He shrugged, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles “there’s countless things I like about you and they all contribute to why I want you to stay… And I think Carrington sees those things too… But I think the thought of bridging that connection scares the shit out of him more than anything else he’s lived through.”

Faye’s blush only increased at the comment, but she didn’t say anything else.

What he followed up with, that she was enough, Faye wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe it more than anything. And the thing was, she did. She did believe him. Believed his sincerity at least. In this moment. They’d been through a great deal together in the short amount of time since they’d met. That was true. And situations such as that, they tended to bring people closer. A commonality of survival and not being alone. She understood that much. But what happened when it was over? When there were no more people chasing them? When there was no more relic to translate and study? When it was just… them? She highly doubted that any of them would be able to settle into a life that didn’t involve traveling the world or uncovering things that had been lost. No matter how much Faye herself wanted a ‘normal’ life one day. Normal meaning not getting shot at or chased by men in helicopters.

When he reached for her hand, it was unexpected, so Faye flinced a bit. But she didn’t pull away. Instead she watched him toy with her fingers, his thumb rubbing patterns over her skin. He was warm. Very warm. And his hand was so much bigger than hers. In the end, all she could do was nod, believing that Fane meant what he said, even if Faye was certain it wouldn’t last.

She scrubbed her free hand through her hair as the fight was elaborated on. “So… what? You two… beat the shit outta these thugs and then… you gave him a talkin’ to and…” Her raised eyebrows said the rest for her. She was no prude, she was simply still wrapping her mind around the fact that Fane and Carrington had fucked in an alley. It was surprisingly… Faye swallowed, the flush of her cheeks having nothing to do with anything Fane said to her this time. She cleared her throat, trying to push away the pictures her mind was forming.

Thankfully, Fane elaborated on her other question. About herself. She looked down at their hands again. “I always figured… why be cruel if you don’t have to be, right? We were all… stuck in this shit together. Might as well make the best of it.” Faye had experienced her own share of cruelties in her life. People sucked. Hard. And most were only out for themselves. So it was Faye’s experiences that said ‘no one will ever care about you.’ Because it had been true all her life.

So his reasons for wanting her around were… well, they were new to her. She’d never had anyone tell her that before. It seemed impossible that it had never happened. She was in her thirties for God’s sake. Surely someone in her life would have told her those things? But no. It had never happened. Partly because she never let anyone close enough to find out those things. “Black coffee is a sin,” she huffed, but it was more laugh than anything. “And you’re both… pervs for listenin’ at me in the shower.” But she was still smiling slightly. Her eyes followed the movement of his fingers, and she wanted to reach out and touch him with her other hand. But she was still… scared. So she just moved her fingers against his for now, stroking the underside of his wrist.

Since they were being honest, and Fane had shared so much, what could it hurt for her to do the same? Like him, she kept her eyes on their hands. “Ilike you both a lot. And I don’t… like people. I don’t let myself like them.” A long breath sighed gently through her nose. There was a moment where she seemed to struggle to find the right way to say something. “I like… the way you’re such a nerd-” She grinned a bit. “- and you’re smarter than I’ll ever be. The way you… talk to yourself in different languages. With your glasses about to fall off your nose.”

There were things she liked about Carrington as well, when she could see past the shitty attitude. “I’m not… good at this. I’m… scared of it. So even if he does see it, like you say he does - like you do - who’s to say I won’t just end up hurting him? Or you?” Her hand tightened a bit in his. “I don’t want that.”

His movements were slow and once he had her hand he held it gently at first to let her grow accustomed to the action. He did it for no other reason than he wanted to do it. Wanted to feel the warmth of her hand in his own and it explained the soft play of his fingertips against her own even as she tried to get her head around what he’d told her. Fane’s eyes were bright and unwavering as he watched her muddle through it, “I can be very mm… convincing when I want to be.” His lips twisted into a wry grin, and perhaps it was evidence there was far more to him than the bookish persona he typically presented. Of course, there had been hints at it, the odd flirtatious quip thrown about here and there; even earlier in their conversation before getting onto this topic he’d offered her a bite.

Quite literally.

Carrington liked to refer to him as a glorified librarian every now and then but Fane liked to think he’d somewhat muddled the soldier’s brain on that particular opinion. So Faye’s blush only caused him to laugh though it was done quietly and under his breath. A laugh that grew a bit louder when she spoke in response to what he had said. “Guess I’m going to hell then for more than one reason,” his teeth flashed at her in a cheeky grin. “Hey,” he protested as if that point was rather unjustified “at least I was thinking about you singing and nothing else that might’ve come to mind ‘bout you in the shower… maybe.” His face scrunched up a little as he laughed again glad to see her smiling and Fane had deliberately kept a hold of her hand.

When she started talking about him though, Fane sobered up just a fraction but the mirth still glimmered in his eyes. “I don’t think I’m smarter than either of you, I mean god you’ve got that mad memory trick. If anything we’re both geniuses.” But the look grew a bit sheepish, moving to nudge the referenced item up his nose a notch. “Well, they have this habit of wanting to slip down every now and then.” He hadn’t gotten round to fixing them properly, always too many other things on his mind to remember to do it until it always was left undone.

But Faye’s concerns were real and valid ones, and Fane gave her hand a gentle tug to get her attention. “You think any of us are better?” his smile was more faint now. “You won’t hurt us and if you do… or if we do, then we’ll talk… But I think there probably needs to be a fair bit of improvement in terms of communication to achieve that before we reach that point.” He raised her hand, moving to press his lips to her knuckles “but I really am serious about wanting you to stay… There’s nothing I want more than that.”

“Can you now?” Faye said. A tiny smile turned her mouth as she focused on the warmth of his hand in hers. It had been a long time since someone had held her hand simply because. And she found she liked it.

His laugh was warm as well, and Faye found that she couldn’t help but do the same. “I think all of us are,” she agreed. “And well… it’s not like I’ve got all that much to offer looks wise. So at least I’ve got a nice voice.” She was mostly kidding, having never suffered from a lack of willing partners. But it was always flashbang and done. No one ever stuck around. No one ever called, including Faye. There was no reason to.

“Well, I think you are,” she said. “So deal with it. Doesn’t mean I think I’m stupid, cause I don’t. But don’t sell yourself short, hm?” His acknowledgment of her photographic memory made her blush a bit. She hardly ever flaunted her talents. But she could remember most anything she’d ever read or seen. Especially if it was important and a constant fixture in her life. “I like them,” she said, watching as he pushed the frames back up his nose. Her eyes may or may not have lingered in his mouth as she did so.

But as he tugged her hand, they moved back to find his own again. Faye nodded, agreeing that there were many steps to take before the one she was afraid of. Communication being one of the main ones. “Alright then.” Her fingers tightened in his, and she brushed his hand with her thumb. It was getting darker, the sun lowering over the mountains through the window. His eyes were lovely, glowing with a hint of amber as the sun shone in on them. Hers were a bit nervous, as was she. When she realized she was staring at him, Faye cleared her throat and looked away. “We should… probably get goin. Don’t wanna leave Carrington by himself for too long.”

“Are we ironically going to be playing highway to hell while we’re going? Because I am a hundred percent for that idea.” His eyes crinkled a little behind his glasses but he scoffed at her next comment starting to chuckle “oh shut up, have you looked in a mirror? Lady you’re gorgeous even when you’re covered in cobwebs and dirt,” and Fane said that in full confidence of the statement because any idiot with eyes could tell that. Though he had a feeling Faye knew it already, but hey, did it really hurt to tell a woman she was attractive?

Fane merely rolled his eyes a little at being told to accept being called smart, it always left him feeling a little odd. People commenting on his intelligence, of course it was a useful aspect, but it wasn’t always so amazing as people made it out to be. More often than not it had just led to taunts and bullying. “Yeah, who knows what he’ll get up to.” But he didn’t argue, or dispute the fact. But eventually they settled in some sort of understanding, and Fane shifted enough to put the car in gear and switch the headlamps on getting them underway once more.

Arriving at the larger supermarket and getting a trolley Fane’s first stop was the clothing section, at this time it was relatively quiet so Fane took his time to grab a few pairs of jeans, t-shirts, jumpers, socks and boxers. General but practically comfortable clothes. While he grabbed things for himself Fane made a conscious effort to also pick up some things for Carrington, the man had given him sizes so it was just a matter of picking the things. Fane just hoped he wouldn’t hate them though Faye helped in deciding on a couple of items. With clothes sorted for them and Faye having done some browsing in the meantime for herself then came the process of food. He’d rather forgotten what it was to be in a country with aisles jam-packed full of all sorts of tasty treats and it was hard not to go a little overboard in the confectionery and biscuit aisles. Making sure they had enough things for dinner, lunch and breakfast they took it to a till, packed it into bags and paid the bill of which Fane covered with one of his reserve accounts he’d saved up from over the years.

Loading the car up with the food and other bits and pieces they had picked up (wash stuff, plenty of cleaning things too) they eventually found themselves on the road once more. “So, what are you treating us to for dinner? ‘Cause I’m ravenous.”

“Shotgun gets to pick the music, so sure,” she grinned. But it turned to another bit of blushing as he told her she was attractive. Gorgeous even. “I’m used to… bein’ told I’m pretty,” Faye admitted. “But it’s always been because they wanted something. Because they thought it would get them somewhere.” Her fingers slipped along the underside of his, feeling the slightly calloused tips. “Can’t blame ‘em for tryin’. Not that I was stupid enough to believe most of it. But… thank you.” The last two words were said softly. And she looked up at him with an expression that said unlike all those others, she believed it when he said it.

Being smart was nothing to be ashamed of. But Faye understood Fane’s reluctance. Where she came from, being too brainy got you ostracized. And if you were pretty and smart? Well, you must be sucking dick to get ahead. Which was why as much as Faye loved her hometown, she had gotten the hell out of there as soon as she graduated high school.

Things seemed to settle a bit between them after that, and they moved on to the shop. Faye let Fane get most of Carrington’s things (giving her opinion when asked) and moved to get some personal items once he had most of it sorted. Shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, new toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste, feminine items, razors, and a few odds and ends completed her own bit of shopping. She glanced at the condoms as she passed by that section and paused. Would it be presumptuous of her? She looked around to see if Fane was nearby. He wasn’t, but after some debate, Faye moved on, leaving the box where it was. Like that would happen anytime soon.

Back in the car, Faye pulled on her new sweater against the chill before putting her jacket back on. “I’m thinking some comfort food is in order, don’t you? Somethin’ deep fried and covered in gravy? Or I could do some homemade bread and vegetable stew? Whatever you like.”

[americasass81]

Love, love, loved this chapter. Absolutely so well written. As a fan of legal dramas this had it all and now I'm I tenterhooks waiting to see what happens next both to the reader and Steve. I bet it's going be interesting.

Run for Cover 12

Warnings: this series contains dark elements such as noncon and rape, abuse (emotional, physical, financial, mental), manipulation, humiliation, violence, depression, and trauma, mentions of miscarriage.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Character: dark!Steve Rogers

Synopsis: Your marriage to THE Steve Rogers is not so picture perfect as promised.

Note: Happy Monday. I’m taking a self-care day.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

Divider and banner by me!

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya <3

The day came too quickly. Your weeks apart from Steve should have felt like freedom but the prospect of what would happen next, the anticipation of all that can go wrong, and the dread of an end that would never ever truly be, piled atop you and slogged by in insufferable seconds, minutes, and hours. 

Keep reading

[acrobat-elle]

Harbor In the Tempest (2/5)

After an attack by the Lost Boys, Emma and Killian find themselves in an impossible situation. Canon divergence from 3x07.

@caprelloidea is an absolute goddess of a fic cheerleader.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4373

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4

AO3 | ff.net

Emma’s face grows even paler, a feat he’d not thought possible, her lips pulled into a tight line.

He’s sure he looks much the same, his sudden realization having turned his veins to ice, his stomach twisting uncomfortably and his heart made of lead. He’s felt this before - on two separate occasions ( three , a traitorous voice in his head supplies, reminding him once again of how Liam was snatched back from the clutches of death only to succumb as soon as they thought they were free) - and the depth of it shakes him. She is not Milah. She is not Liam. And yet -

“What kind of poisons?” She interrupts his thoughts, biting off the words through clenched teeth.

He needs the acid in her tone to bring him back, to distract him even, but when he looks at her that familiar feeling once again lodges itself in his chest, tenterhooks that refuse to let go. “There’s at least a dozen I know of, and probably several dozen more that I don’t.”

“You said there was nothing on that arrow.” It’s not quite an accusation, but close enough.

“I said there was no Dreamshade on that arrow.” He picks it up once more, examining it. “Whatever was on it either stayed inside you or isn’t visible to human eyes.”

“Any ideas?” her voice wobbles on the words.

“Well, we can cross Dreamshade off the list.” He regrets the words the instant they leave his mouth, and her eyes grow hard when she hears them.

“This isn’t fucking funny.”

“I know, love. I’m sorry.” He holds her gaze for a moment and wills her to see it - she doesn’t need his wit right now and he can hardly blame her for snapping, not when she’d gone from figuring a way out this mess to being handed a death sentence less than a minute later. She seems to sense it in him and her features relax slightly.

He takes it as a win and and makes his way over to her, kneeling next to her. “Perhaps I can narrow it down. How do you feel right now?”

She sighs. “Just peachy.”

“Swan,” he warns.

“Sorry,” she mutters. “I feel… tired. Like nothing in my body wants to work.”

“And your head?”

“It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, not exactly. Are you seeing or hearing anything odd? Hallucinations?”

She shakes her head. “No, but my thoughts are… not slower, but…” she trails off, as though searching for the right words. He nods in encouragement, waiting. “It’s like I have to work harder to think. Like I’m drunk but trying to act sober. Kind of.” She huffs. “God, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“No, I understand,” he assures her. “Are you in any pain? Aside from the obvious, of course.”

She glances down to her torso. “No, I - no.”

“All right.” He reaches out, pressing his palm gently to her forehead. She seems surprised at his touch but doesn’t protest as he checks for a fever and finds none - her skin is cool beneath his fingers, in fact, a stark contrast to the humid air around them.

“So? Got a diagnosis, doc?”

He shakes his head before looking up at her. “I���m afraid not, Swan. Most of the poisons I’m familiar with would have killed you already, and the rest would have you screaming in agony.”

Her voice goes flat. “Well, lucky me.”

“If you’d seen how some of my crew members met their demise, you wouldn’t be so flippant.” He turns and sits with his back to the wall, a foot away from Emma, completely at a loss.

They’re quiet for awhile, coiled tight and ready to snap but neither of them ready to speak. Emma’s hands twist in her lap and he digs under his nails with the tip of his hook, the silence stretching out between them. He can only imagine what she’s thinking (though he’s sure he has a fair idea), but his own mind races and keeps him from contemplating Emma’s own thoughts any further.

He wants her, that much he knows. She’s stunningly beautiful and he’d be blind not to see it, but it’s far more than that - there’s a steady strength to her he admires, a level of devotion to her family that pulls at him in the strangest way, opens up old wounds he’d rather not revisit. What would his life have been like, he wonders, if his father had possessed that same trait?

Her kiss made him reconsider himself, his entire reason for being - with one touch of her lips an entire realm of possibilities opened up to him but they were just that - possibilities. When had that shifted from mere potential to something tangible?

Losing it - her - would crush him. He’s certain of that.

“We’re not gonna make it, are we?” she says, quiet and resigned.

Her words cut through him, sharp and jagged as his own thoughts. He can’t lie to her. “I don’t know.”

“What the hell kind of poison is this, anyway? Shouldn’t it hurt? Hasn’t every damn poison you’ve run across here been painful?” she asks.

“Aye,” he concedes. “But I wouldn’t put anything past Pan. He may have created it especially for us. He thought we’d both be stricken with it,” he reminds her.

“Then what’s so bad about this? Maybe it’s not fatal. Maybe I’m just sick and - “ she stops, almost like she can’t convince herself any further.

His fist clenches before he looks at her. “You feel helpless right now, don’t you? That’s what it’s doing to you. It’s already taken your magic. Now it’s taking your physical strength. Be honest, Emma - could you stand right now if you wanted?”

Her glare is strong, but she doesn’t fight him on it. “No. Happy?”

“Bloody fuck, no. ” He shakes his head. “This poison wasn’t chosen or designed with you in mind, Swan. It was for me.”

“What?”

“Am I wrong?” he asks, more harshly than he’d intended. “That this poison makes you feel helpless? Not in control of yourself?”

She doesn’t respond, and her face tells him all he needs to know.

“He picked the perfect thing,” he mutters. “And now you’re caught up in it. I’m sorry, Swan. This should be for me and me alone.”

“Well, we’re both here, so…”

Despite himself, he feels the corners of his mouth turn up. “All hope isn’t lost just yet. Your parents could find us, or Regina, or even the bloody Crocodile.”

“Or Pan could show up and decide he doesn’t want me to die slowly after all.”

His skin crawls around the word die. “No offense, love, but your mother’s optimism seems to have skipped a generation.”

“Shut up.” She sighs and looks back to her lap. “Wait a minute. Why would he want us to die slowly, anyway? Why not just take us out?”

“Distraction,” he says simply. “It’s no accident we were driven specifically to this place, I’d wager. Even if neither of us were hit we’d still be trapped.”

“And with us stuck down here, that means the rest of the crew will be looking for us instead of Henry,” she finishes.

“Precisely. And if they do find us we’ll have yet another mission to retrieve the water that saved your father.”

“And even if we weren’t stuck down here, if we’d been hit with the arrows anyway…”

“Aye. As long as at least one of us were injured his goal would be accomplished, whether we escaped the Lost Boys or not.” He’s trying to think of a way out, he truly is. Any scenario that doesn’t end in her wasting away in this hellish place, one that doesn’t end with him starving to death after Emma dies - and seven hells, that’s a fate he desperately wishes never entered his mind, one that physically pains him to contemplate. Pan wouldn’t hesitate to leave their bodies in some easy-to-find location, he’s certain. The demon would relish the opportunity to see the looks on her parents’ faces.

Perhaps the Lost Boys never intended to poison him after all. He’d take Dreamshade a thousand times over rather than waste away on this cliff with only Emma’s body to keep him company. He’d -

He needs to stop thinking.

“Why didn’t you keep any of it?” Emma’s voice cuts through his increasingly-grim thoughts.

“Keep what?”

“The water. Why didn’t you keep any of it? We had enough canteens.” Her words are measured but he can feel the quiet anger beneath them. “Considering how much Pan loves Dreamshade, it would have made sense to keep some around.” Her meaning is crystal-clear: I wouldn’t be going through this right now if you hadn’t emptied the canteen immediately after David drank from it.

“That was a far too dangerous idea for me to even consider,” is all he says, his thoughts taking another foul turn, more memories he’d rather not relive.

“Too dangerous?” She scoffs. “What the hell, Hook? I don’t like the idea of being forced to stay in Neverland any more than you do, but it’s still a shitload better than dying.” Her legs may have failed her but her arms work just fine, fists clenching and loosening as she gestures out to the jungle.

“That’s not why,” he gets out through gritted teeth, a subtle warning against her pressing the matter further.

She either doesn’t catch it or ignores it entirely, her eyes flaring. “Are you sure about that? You can’t try to make me fall in love with you if I’m stuck here while you get to go home.”

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. She’s angry, understandably so - she’s just been handed what is essentially a death sentence after all - and he knows she’s using that anger to mask the terror she’s feeling. He’s done that plenty of times himself. But her words cut deep. He’d thought that perhaps they’d made some headway in their strange relationship, such as it was, but the fact that she’s misjudged him so badly tells him otherwise.

Perhaps that’s what pushes him to say what he says next.

“Lest you forget, unless you count my ship I don’t have a home. And tell me, Swan. Have you stopped to think about why your father can never leave this island after drinking that water?”

Some of the animosity melts from her expression, slowly replaced by confusion. “I thought he just physically wouldn’t be able to leave.”

He shakes his head. “No. There’s no barrier to stop him from leaving if we find a way out. It’s what happens after he leaves that’s important.”

Her face falls when the implications dawn on her. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. I wouldn’t dare keep a canteen of that water on me, not for anything. All it would take is one mix-up. Just one. Someone drinking from the wrong vessel, not realizing what they’d done, only to arrive home and perish before they realized the mistake they’d made.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t do it.”

She looks away from him, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “It wasn’t Dreamshade that killed your brother, was it?” she asks, chastened.

“No.”

The tension between them deflates somewhat, Emma’s shoulders slumping as she considers his words.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, soft and contrite.

“It was hundreds of years ago, Swan,” he answers, suddenly feeling unbearably weary.

She shakes her head. “No, not about - I mean, I am sorry about your brother, but that’s not what I meant. What I said to you, I just - I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he replies, just as soft. “It’s been quite a morning.”

She sighs. “Have you ever been in a situation where you couldn’t see a way out? Where you just knew you were going to die?”

His jaw tightens, flashbacks to a duel proposed by a Crocodile flitting through his mind. “Yes.”

“So you know, then. What I’m… you know.”

“Aye.” He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, to reach out and place his hand over hers. It startles him, the strength of his desire to reach out and touch her, to provide any measure of comfort he can, meager as it is.

She doesn’t move at his touch and he waits, fully expecting her to draw her hand away. Instead she turns her wrist beneath his until their palms touch. He’s not sure who moves first when their fingers lace together but her grip is surprisingly strong, the metal of his rings digging into his fingers while she avoids his gaze but squeezes tight.

He squeezes back, hoping it’s enough.

The day grows hotter. Despite the shelter offered to them by the shade, the air is uncomfortably warm and stagnant, no breeze to help cool the sweat sticking to his skin. He fetches two of the canteens from the satchel, grateful that they have a decent water supply with them; they’d been stocking up for the entire camp when they were attacked. They won’t have to worry about dying of thirst anytime soon, at least. 

Small mercies, he thinks as he sits next to Emma once more and passes her a canteen. “Drink up, love. It should help keep you cool.”

“I’m actually not…” she trails off, as if it hadn’t even occurred to her. “I’m not hot at all.” She frowns. “I should be sweating my ass off.”

He hadn’t even noticed, lost as he’d been in his own thoughts, but she’s right. Every day prior she’d been covered with a faint sheen of perspiration once the sun grew high enough in the sky. “Another symptom?”

“I guess. It’s kind of nice to have a break from the heat.” She shrugs with feigned nonchalance, but he can see the trepidation there.

He doesn’t answer but reaches out to her instead, his palm flat against her forehead. She closes her eyes at his touch, her head dropping back until it’s resting against the wall behind her. “Mmm. You’re warm.”

“And you’re cool. Almost cold, even.” He tries to keep the alarm out of his voice and knows he doesn’t entirely succeed. It’s unnatural, how chilled her skin feels under his fingers, such a contrast to the hot air around them. He tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear before pulling back. “How do you feel right now? Any changes?”

She shakes her head and takes a pull from the canteen.  “No, except for the not-sweating thing.”

“You should probably eat something.” They don’t have much, just a few pieces of fruit he’d picked on the way to the stream that morning, but it’s better than nothing.

“No, we should save whatever we have. Besides, I’m not hungry.” Her eyes widen a bit, like she hadn’t even noticed a lack of hunger until she said it aloud.

He may not know what the poison is, but its effects are becoming increasingly clear - her body is slowly shutting down, one thing at a time. Little things, none of them in and of themselves too worrying, but the implications frighten him more than he cares to admit.

He wonders what will give out first, her lungs or her heart.

He pushes the thought away. “You haven’t had a meal since last night and you’ve been run through by a bloody arrow. You need to eat,” he says firmly.

She rolls her eyes. “What, to keep up the strength that I don’t have anymore? Sure, that seems like a great use of our rations.”

“Swan.”

“Hook.”

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Their heads snap in the direction of the familiar voice, the one dripping in amusement and condescension. The bloody demon appeared out of nowhere, as is his wont, and Killian is on his feet with his sword drawn in a flash.

Pan tilts his head, a smirk touching his features as he looks down at Emma. “Don’t get up on my account.”

Killian lunges with his weapon before Pan even finishes speaking, a white-hot rage consuming him before he’s thrown back against the wall in a blast of magic, his sword neatly yanked from his hand and tossed over the cliff.

“Do that again and I’ll throw more than your sword over,” Pan warns while Killian shakes his head, trying to clear it after having it bashed against the granite.

“So what were you arguing about? A lover’s spat? No, no, that can’t be it. You aren’t lovers yet.” He glances down to Emma. “And from the looks of things you never will be.” His gaze drifts back to Killian, his eyebrow raised. “You should have taken my deal, you know.”

“What the fuck have you done with Henry?” Emma growls.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Henry. He’s assimilating nicely with my little group. I’m more concerned with you, Emma. How are you feeling?”

“Bite me, you little shit.”

He ignores her and turns back to Killian. “You seem to be faring better.”

It’s his turn to smirk. “Your lackeys’ aim needs work. They wasted dozens of arrows on me.”

The knowing tilt of Pan’s head is infuriating, but his next words give Killian pause. “Are you sure about that?”

He rubs at his eyes, tired of these ridiculous games. “What do you want, demon?”

“Just checking on your well-being. I’m sure Emma’s parents will be desperate to know, and now I can tell them with certainty. They’re very worried about her, you know - both her parents and Baelfire.” He considers Killian once more. “Funny, I can’t imagine them feeling the same for you.”

Killian glares, his patience worn thin. “Well, now that you’ve sated your curiosity, I’m sure you need to be off.”

Pan’s smile widens, somehow growing more sinister at the same time. “Very true.” He looks back to Emma. “I’ve got big plans for your son. You’d be proud of him, I’m sure.”

He disappears before she can respond.

They stay silent in the wake of Pan’s visit, Killian pulling himself back into a sitting position and mentally vowing to tear the boy limb from limb if he ever gets hand and hook on him. It’s a bloody, comforting thought, one that keeps him from having to look at Emma while they both process what just happened. What could he even say to her at this point? 

Are you sure about that?

Those five simple words replay over and over in his mind. Pan could have simply been lying to him, using the fact that the arrows had missed him to toy with his mind, but - no. Nothing that happens under Pan’s watch is an accident.

He was simply ensuring that Killian would be forced to watch Emma die. Of course. HIs worst-case scenario.

“What was he talking about?”

“What’s that, love?” he asks wearily, battered both physically and emotionally.

“He said you should have taken his deal. What deal?”

He lifts his head to find her looking at him curiously. “Of all the things Pan just said, that’s what you’re concerned about?”

“If I think about anything else he said I’ll start screaming or crying or both. I swear to God, I can’t wait to get my hands on that little bastard.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he responds dryly.

“What deal?” she asks, undeterred.

He sighs. “When your father was poisoned and I went up Dead Man’s Peak to retrieve the water to save his life, Pan showed up. He wanted me to work for him again.”

“And you said no?”

“I said no,” he confirms.

Emma’s eyes narrow. “There’s more to it than that.”

Bloody hell, will she not let this go? He presses his thumb and forefinger over his eyes, pushing until he sees stars behind the lids. “Aye, and it’s a story for another time.”

“What, for when I’m dead?”

He grimaces. “Swan.”

“Fine, then. Why don’t we talk about what Pan might have planned for Henry? Or what my next symptom might be? I could go blind, or have trouble breathing, or start bleeding out from this fucking hole in my side. Would that be better?” She reaches for the canteen at her side and fumbles with it when she tries to unscrew the cap. She huffs in frustration shakes out her hand, much as one does when a limb has fallen asleep, and tries again. But her fingers are slow and clumsy, and after a few more attempts she sighs, setting the canteen in her lap.

His irritation with her melts away instantly. She’s dying, you idiot, and she’s terrified. He slowly climbs to his feet and crosses the cave until he’s kneeling next to her, carefully taking the canteen from her lap and unscrewing the lid.

“Can you hold this?” he asks gently.

She can’t bring herself to look at him when she takes it from him, pressing it between both of her palms before taking a drink. “Yeah. I’ve got it.”

“All right.” He settles down next to her once more, a little closer than last time.

“Sorry,” she finally says. “I’m just - “

“It's all right, love.” He scratches at his ear. “Pan offered me passage off the island.”

She turns her head to look at him. “What, just like that?”

“No,” he admits. “He said I could take one person with me.”

Her eyes widen in realization. “Me.”

“Yes. I refused.”

She grows quiet, passing the canteen back to him so he can screw on the lid. “Why?” she finally asks, her gaze trained downward.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t leave your son.” He shrugs. “Am I wrong?”

She regards him warily. “No. No, you’re not. What did - what did Pan want in return?”

“He wanted me to kill your father. He very specifically asked me to use my hook.”

“Jesus.”

“I don’t know what or who this ‘Jesus’ is, but I can gather your meaning.”

She actually smiles a little at that. “It’s, uh, kind of blasphemous to use his name in vain.”

“Is he a god in your world?” He hasn’t had enough time to research the topic himself; he always found the religious practices of the various lands he visited interesting, but most of the time he’s spent in Storybrooke he’s either been tied up in one way or another, and when he wasn’t injured or chained there remained all the curious new technologies to discover and master. He suspects he’d need multiple lifetimes to learn them all.

“A version of one type of god, yeah. There are a lot of religions to choose from.”

“Perhaps one day I’ll finally pick one.”

Her smile turns wry. “Yeah, I didn’t peg you for a go-to-church-every-Sunday type.”

“My mother was,” he says quietly, surprising himself. “She was always telling me to say my prayers before she passed.”

“Oh.” She looks surprised, like she hadn’t even considered he’d been a child once, that he’d had parents. “How old were you when she…?”

“Five or six years, I believe. Something settled in her lungs and never left. It took her quickly.”

“I’m sorry.”

He waves her off. “It was a long time ago.”

“So you stopped praying? After she was gone, I mean.”

He shakes his head. “Not at first. I dutifully said my prayers every night for a few years after, just as she wanted.”

“What changed?”

He flashes back to a ship at sea, a storm, and a cruel captain. “I didn’t think anyone was listening.”

“I know what you mean,” she mutters, wisely not pressing the matter. “I just… I don’t understand you. Why weren’t you going to tell me about Pan’s deal?”

“What would be the point?” he asks. “It wouldn’t change anything. What would you have me do, brag about it? No. I don’t need you questioning my motives, Swan.”

“But why would I - “

“I already told you,” he says, the corners of his mouth pulling up. “No trickery. Remember?”

“Oh.” She looks a little stunned, blinking at him for a moment before averting her gaze. It’d be a fetching display in any other context but it instead it tugs at his heart, a wrenching, awful thing pulling in his chest.

He doesn’t know if he can do this again, if he can watch her gradually fade while he’s helpless to do a damned thing about it. He feels himself falling apart as slowly and surely as she, their shared dread heavy in the air between them.

It seems Pan indeed picked the perfect thing. He wants to swear, to scream, to punch the wall behind him until his fingers bleed. Instead he swallows heavily, forcing a lightness into his voice that sounds false even to his own ears.

“So, Swan. Will you continue to fight me on the matter, or will you finally eat something?"

Her quick exhale in response isn’t quite a laugh, but when she nods it loosens the tightness in his chest, if only a little.

*

Chapter 3

[worryinglyinnocent]

@rowofstars prompted: “F&F remix - Gold asks Belle to grab a late dinner and in the course of conversation ends up saying something that lets her know he read her latest smutty fanfic. Dealer's choice where that leads.”

This is a remix of Friendships and Fandoms, in which Belle and Gold never made the first move towards dating and went their separate ways after Star Force wrapped, only to be reunited on set a few years later. The first part can be read here.

Rated: T

=====

“Just us here in the make-up room after everyone else has gone home.” Rum gave a snort of laughter. “Feels just like old times.”

Belle smiled at him in the mirror as she carefully removed the prosthetics from the side of his face that were giving the impression of a horrifically lifelike wound. Thankfully they would not have to do such an intense make-up job the next day; Rum’s character was a magician and the gash would be healed by magic and the expertise of the special effects department in post-production, leaving him with an unblemished face for the rest of the shoot.

“Yeah, it’s been a while since it was just the two of us like this.” Belle tried to suppress a sigh at her nostalgia for the years they had spent working together on Star Force and her lament that they never took things any further whilst they had the chance. And they still weren’t taking things any further now that they had a second chance. It was as if the universe wanted them to at least try to be together, and they kept self-sabotaging.

“I was thinking, do you maybe want to get something to eat tonight?” Rum asked. His voice was completely nonchalant and matter of fact, but when she glanced up and looked at his now-clean face in the mirror, she could see a telltale nervousness in his dark brown eyes. “There’s that Thai place that’s opened up since I was last here, I’d like to check it out. Unless you’ve already been and you know it’s rubbish, of course.”

“No, no, it’s good,” Belle said hastily. “I mean, yes, I’d love to go out with you.” She cringed. “I mean, I’d love to get dinner. With you. You know what I mean.”

Rum nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Just let me get changed and we’ll go?”

“Sure!”

Rum left the make-up room in the direction of his trailer, and Belle sank down into the chair that he had just vacated with a low groan of embarrassment. Way to tell him you’re desperate there, Belle…

It wasn’t a date, she told herself crossly. He’d invited her out to eat because it was late and he was hungry and it was the polite thing to do. They were friends, friends did this kind of thing all the time. That she had a huge crush on him that had not dampened after three years apart, three years kept up solely with communication through Tumblr even if he didn’t realise that she’d worked out who he was behind his Internet handle, well, that was completely beside the point. She rested her head on the counter. These past few days whilst Rum had been filming his guest part in After Ever After had been so lovely; they had fallen back into their easy camaraderie as if Rum had never been away from Storybrooke studios, and they had been keeping the rest of the cast and crew highly entertained with reminiscences of their time together on Star Force.

“Are you ok?” Rum’s voice came around the door and Belle jumped up, grabbing her purse and racing out of the make-up room, fumbling with her keys to lock up.

“Yes, yes, I’m absolutely fine.” She beamed at him. “Ready for our date?”

Way to go, Belle…

“I’m very much looking forward to our date, actually,” Rum said. “And…” he paused, and if Belle wasn’t very much mistaken, she thought that he might be showing the hint of a shy blush. “And I’m very glad you think of it as a date.”

Belle bit her lip. Was this it? Was this the moment she’d been waiting for? That they’d both been waiting for, if Rum’s current state of mind seemed to be anything to go by? From some of his comments on her works and posts on Tumblr, she’d thought that her feelings were returned, but now this was real life, not the safe pseudo-anonymity of blogging sites, and these were things that really had to be confronted.

She held out a hand which Rum took, and the two of them made their way out of the studio together. Passing the security office, Leroy took one look at them, raised an eyebrow, and nodded approvingly.

“It took you long enough,” he remarked, and Belle had to giggle as they continued on down the road towards the new Thai place.

“I figured that it was time to bite the bullet,” Rum said. “If I didn’t ask now, then I might never have another chance.”

They entered the restaurant and were seated; it was a Tuesday night and relatively quiet in the place, and they took a table in the corner, nice and secluded.

Belle nodded, unable to stop the smile spreading over her face. The future was still up in the air, and she didn’t know what it might bring, but it didn’t matter. For the moment, they were together, they were on a date, and one of her favourite tropes of friends-to-lovers might possibly be coming true. She shook the thought away; she couldn’t afford to start getting ahead of herself. They were still on their first date and they hadn’t even kissed yet. Could she hope? Rum had held her hand for pretty much the entire walk to the restaurant and was still playing with her fingers now. The words flowed easily back and forth between them, and Belle could not stop grinning, and just enjoying the moment. The food was good and the wine was flowing, and even though they were both filming the next day, there was no sign of either of them wanting the evening to end.

“How’s Mulan?” Rum asked presently.

“She’s fine. We’ve been working on a new fanfic together; the Lacey/Stiltskin fandom is still going strong, you know.” She knew that he knew, because she knew that he’d been following her Tumblr ever since she’d first introduced him to the site. “This one charts their relationship after the end credits rolled, seeing them welcome their new addition to the family and come to terms with everything that happened during the series.”

Rum nodded. “Decorating the nursery, going to counselling sessions, vetoing each other’s baby name suggestions, that kind of thing?”

Belle nodded. “Exactly that.”

“Sounds good.”

They started talking about fanfic for a bit, and everything was going perfectly until Rum suddenly went silent.

“Rum?”

His face had gone a furious red colour, and his fingers were fidgeting along the tablecloth.

“Rum?” Belle pressed. “Are you ok?”

“I, erm, I should probably go,” he muttered. “It’s a long day tomorrow, and… stuff.”

He opened his wallet and took out a few bills, more than enough to cover their meal and tip, and practically ran out of the restaurant. Completely perturbed and more than a little worried that she had done something irretrievable to ruin their friendship and fledgling more-than-friendship, Belle grabbed her purse and hurried after him.

“Rum? Rum! What’s going on? Was it something I said?”

The one advantage to running after Rum was that he couldn’t run very fast, and she caught up to him easily on the road. His shoulders were sagging in a rather dejected manner, and Belle was completely perplexed as to what had caused this sudden u-turn in his demeanour.

“Rum? What’s up?”

He shook his head, giving her a weak smile. “It wasn’t anything you said,” he admitted finally. “It was something I said.”

“What did you say?” Belle asked, completely confused.

“Stiltskin and Lacey. Special Examination.”

He looked at her pointedly, and Belle felt her own face flame. Special Examination was her latest smutty fanfic offering, a particularly kinky one in which Lacey and Stiltskin acted out all kinds of depraved doctor-patient fantasies.

Rum had read it.

Belle had never particularly given any thought to Rum reading her fic. She knew that he must have read some of it because his online alter-ego had commented on the works, but the idea of him reading her smut fics was…

Well actually, it was pretty damn hot, and Belle felt a pull in the pit of her stomach.

“Oh,” she said. “You read it?”

Rum nodded sheepishly.

“Did you… did you enjoy it?” she asked tentatively.

Rum gave another slow nod.

“Very much so.”

“I’m very glad.”

He looked at her with what could only be described as astonishment.

“Belle, I read your smutty fanfic,” he pointed out.

“So? I wrote my smutty fanfic and put it on the Internet to be read,” Belle said. “If anyone should be embarrassed here, it’s me. I wrote an incredibly kinky story about you. And you read it. That’s normally every fanfic writer’s worst fear, that the actors whose characters they write about will somehow find their fanworks.”

Rum raised an eyebrow at her. “You say ‘normally’...”

“Well, I kind of like the idea of you reading my fanfic,” Belle admitted. “And you did say that you’d liked it…”

“It blew my mind, Belle.”

“Well…” Oh god, she couldn’t believe she was going to suggest this, but at least, if it all went wrong, they only had a few weeks to live with it before Rum could escape back to the UK. “Maybe… Maybe we could turn fiction into fact sometime?”

There was a beat of silence; if real life had been a movie then it would have been that pause in the script just before the music begins to swell when the audience was on tenterhooks.

Then Rum pressed his lips against hers, and his hands were splaying over her back, and Belle’s hands were running through his newly-short hair, and the background music playing in her head was building to a crescendo.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Rum breathed as they finally broke apart.

Belle could only grin, the avid writer in the back of her mind already plotting out the next chapter of their lives…

[americasass81]

Oh hell no, this will not do. Now I love me a good cliffhanger as much as anyone but not when there's also a mystery teasing us along the way. What is the detective doing at her house that Lucifer caught her at? Why did she suddenly just leave work? Why is she still not happy with Lucifer? Now I gotta go to sleep curious and inquiring minds wanna know? Absolutely delighted to see another chapter of this go up and now I'll be on tenterhooks waiting for the next installment. What a thrill😀

The Devils Detective pt.3

Summary: Chloe left. After finding out the truth about Lucifer, she left. After six months, the department finally found her replacement. At first glance, the job is great, but that is until you meet Lucifer and all the drama that comes with him.

Warnings: Lucifer(tv) Themes, Murder Cases, Shootouts, Angst, Revenge, 18+, Therapist Sessions, Possibly More to Come as Series Progresses Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader (Raelynn), Lucifer x Chloe Decker

Tags are Open!

Intro Part One Part Two

Lucifer walked into the precinct with a slight pep to his step, grinning. Yesterday he’d managed to get the Detective to let him take her back to the precinct, even gracing him with a smile and a laugh, something he wanted to see and hear again. His grin grew into a smile when he saw the Detective sitting at her desk, looking at her computer, an opened file next to her.

“Ah, good morning, Detective.”

He placed the cup in front of her, moving to sit on the edge of her desk.

“Coffee, for the lovely Detective.”

She didn’t bother to look up at him, or even acknowledge him as she slammed the file shut, causing his smile to fall.

“Detective?”

She shook her head, glancing up at him.

“Not now Lucifer.”

“Detective-” She shook her head, shutting her computer off before she stood, grabbing the file.

“Not now Lucifer.”

Lucifer huffed as he watched her walk off, disappearing around the corner.

“Well now, this just won’t do.”

Lucifer got up, moving to sit in her chair, cutting her computer on.

“Ah Detective, don’t you know that you must put a password if you want to be sneaky.”

Lucifer found what the Detective was working on without problem, but all it did was cause him to have more questions when he saw Dan.

“Ah, Detective Douche.”

Dan clenched his jaw as he stopped, turning towards Lucifer with a tight smile.

“Lucifer. What is it?”

Lucifer leaned back in the chair, tapping his fingers together as he looked up at Dan.

“Do you know where I could find Detective Raelynn?”

Dan slightly made a face as he walked towards Lucifer, setting the files he was carrying down on the desk, pointing a finger at Lucifer.

“So help me Lucifer if you’ve done something-”

Lucifer scoffed, slapping Dan’s finger away.

“I’ve done nothing to the Detective. How dare you assume otherwise.”

Dan huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“Lucifer, why wouldn’t I assume you’ve done something? You’re always doing something.”

Lucifer glared at Dan, slightly huffing.

“Do you know where she is or not?” “She left.” “She left?” “She left. She took the day off.”

Dan picked the files up, nodding.

“That's why I have these.”

Lucifer nodded, standing up.

“And do you happen to know where she went?”

Dan shook his head, adjusting the files in his arms.

“Her home I’m assuming. She didn’t say and I didn’t ask.”

Lucifer nodded as he turned, causing Dan to make a face.

“Where are you going?” “To find her.”

The consistent knocking at her door causing her to let out a growl of frustration as she stood, carefully stepping over the papers strewn about the room. She closed the door behind her, her hands balled into fists. She didn’t bother to look through the peephole, throwing the door open, her eyes widening.

“Lucifer?”

She shook her head, scoffing as she pulled the door closer to her, blocking Lucifer from entering her house.

“What are you doing here?”

Lucifer grinned, looking down at her.

“We’re partners, dear. And you are working on a case.”

Raelynn held up her finger, shaking her head.

“First of all, we are not partners, Lucifer, and as far as I’m concerned, we never will be.”

Lucifer’s face fell as Raelynn continued, her chest heaving. “Secondly, how the hell did you find out where I live?”

Lucifer shook his head, smirking.

“I’m the devil dear. I have my ways.”

Raelynn scoffed, nodding.

“I’m sure. But you can leave Lucifer. I’m not working on a case.”

Lucifer held up his finger when she went to close the door, stopping the door with his foot.

“Ah, but your computer says otherwise.”

Raelynn’s face fell into a scowl as she opened the door wider, glaring up at Lucifer.

“You were on my computer?”

She shook her head, scoffing.

“You had no business being anywhere near or on my computer.”

“Considering we are partners, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.”

Raelynn made a face, huffing slightly as she shook her head.

“That- you’re thinking of marriage, Lucifer.”

She held up her finger, shooting him a look.

“Which is something that’ll never happen, especially between us. Now, the partners you should be talking about understand that there are certain things that have nothing to do with you. The things on my computer are one of them.”

“Yes well-”

Lucifer’s eyes widened when the door was slammed shut in his face, gasping.

“How rude.”

Lucifer reached down, trying the handle, smirking when it opened. He made his way inside the Detective’s home, looking around. It was simple, a few decorations placed around the room. But there was nothing that stuck out to Lucifer.

“Interesting.” There was no sign of the Detective in the rooms Lucifer could see, so he decided to explore more. The other rooms matched the main room, hardly any decorations or personal items. Lucifer walked down the hall, opening the doors and looking around before he moved to the next room. He opened the door, his eyes widening.

“Oh my dad.”

The Detective jumped, turning towards Lucifer, her eyes widening before she shook her head, glaring up at Lucifer.

“Lucifer, what the hell are you doing in here!?”

Lucifer slightly shook his head before he smirked, looking down at the Detective.

“Well my dear, I could ask you the same thing.”

“I live here! You however do not! So get out!” She walked towards him, pushing him out of the room. Lucifer grinned as he watched the Detective close the door.

“You have an awful lot of things in there, Detective. Might I inquire what it is you’re doing?” “What I may or may not be doing in my home is of no concern to you Lucifer. Now get out.”

Lucifer shook his head as the Detective started to push him down the hall, looking back at her over his shoulder.

“I quite believe it is of concern to me my dear.”

She scoffed, glaring up at him.

“Oh really? And why is that?”

Lucifer huffed slightly as he stopped, causing the Detective to slam into him, Lucifer grabbing her before she fell.

“Because Detective, we’re partners.”

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