#otherwise this one would have been 4500 words long

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [10] - Honeysuckle

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Engagement dinners are supposed to be romantic.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms.

Word Count: 4500

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t that you didn’t know this engagement would be talked about.

You knew very well that starting that night, your sudden engagement would be a very popular topic within the ton for the days to come. Assuming otherwise would make you naïve and you were anything but naïve, at least that was what you liked to think.

But this?

This was something different.

Dear Readers,

Though it has not been long since we have started this season, it seems that love has already claimed a very unlikely couple. Benedict Bridgerton, after his many dalliances and two years of alleged courtship with Miss Harlowe, has decided to wed Miss Y/N.

Now, this author is among the many people that was quite shocked by this sudden engagement and the rumors circling this pleasant union. While there are certain witnesses that claim Mr. and future Mrs. Bridgerton were caught in a scandalous manner, some have also heard the scandalous manner was merely the enthusiasm two lovers had been caught up in after Mr. Bridgerton’s unexpected proposal. Whether that is true or not remains to be found out and rest assured my dear readers, we shall find it out.

Yet, one cannot expect everyone to share the happiness to this delightful news. Especially considering how secret Mr. Bridgerton had held his intentions with Miss Y/N, it raises the question if Miss Y/N has in fact led Mr. Bridgerton away from Miss Harlowe with her charms like many think she has. We can only hope that Miss Harlowe is not too heartbroken, and will finish the season as a happily married woman after a much shorter courting period than she did with Mr. Bridgerton.

Regardless of the many scandals entwined in this love story, it is very clear that this engagement is not the last time we will hear of Mr. and future Mrs. Bridgerton. On behalf of the ton, this author offers her congratulations to our happy couple and would like to say that she cannot wait for the wedding.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, skimming the lines and your head shot up when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

The door opened and Lottie peeked her head in. “Hello!”

“Lottie?” you asked, lowering the paper in a haste and she stepped inside.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to congratulate you!” she said and rushed to pull you into a hug. “It’s such wonderful news, you’re marrying Benedict!”

“Um,” you cleared your throat as she pulled back to grin at you. “Yes. I am.”

“When did you fall in love?” she asked you. “Benedict says it was very sudden!”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at her.

“…Benedict told you—?”

“That you two fell in love very fast and suddenly.”

Ah.

So you two would be hiding what had happened from everyone then.

On one hand you understood why Benedict had chosen to hide the truth from Charlotte. You yourself had no idea about how to explain it to her, and by doing so you felt like you were protecting her from the truth in a way. You didn’t think you could bear to see the look of heartbreak on her face, especially when you knew she believed in love with all her heart so as far as she and the rest of the ton were concerned, you and Benedict were to have a love marriage.

On the other hand, you were beginning to wish you could at least talk to someone about it, but that was wishing for impossible.

“And I don’t want you to worry,” she said as she plopped down on the bed and grabbed the Whistledown paper. “I’m not heartbroken about it at all, why would I be? Me and Benny were never in a courtship, I hope you know that.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to offer her a small smile. “I know.”

“Are you very excited about your wedding?”

A bitter taste reached the back of your throat but you sat up, trying to appear nonchalant.

“It’s weeks away.”

“More time to plan it to perfection!” Lottie said with a big smile. “But I’ve heard about the dinner tonight, I am invited as well!”

You let out a relieved breath. “Oh that’s wonderful,” you said “I’m so glad you’ll be there Lottie, you have no idea.”

“Benny will be there too,” she reminded you and you paused for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah,” you said. “He will be there of course.”

“And knowing him, he probably didn’t give you a lot of information about their family, so that’s also why I came here,” she said. “So that you’ll know who is who tonight and who likes what in detail.”

You snapped your fingers. “It’s a great idea Lottie, I appreciate it.”

Lottie waved a hand in the air. “Oh don’t mention it,” she said. “I know that this dinner is important for everyone, why shouldn’t I do my part to make it easier for at least one person?”

You felt a smile warm your face and reached out to squeeze her hand.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” she said and took a deep breath. “Alright so, first of all, there’s Anthony Bridgerton, the head of the family.”

“Yeah I—”

“He’s the sweetest person in the entire world,” she said, making you frown.

“What?”

“Yes! He is so thoughtful, and so kind, and so—”

“Are we talking about the same person?” you asked. “The oldest brother?”

“Yes that’s him!”

“Lottie, I already met him the other day.”

Lottie gave you a happy smile. “And? What is your opinion of him?”

“He should drop dead.”

Lottie’s eyes widened.

“No!” she said quickly as if your words could in fact make Anthony Bridgerton drop dead and she shook her head, that crestfallen look on her face making you feel as if you kicked a puppy. You took a deep breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You did not like him?”

“Not exactly,” you admitted. “And the feeling is mutual.”

Lottie tilted her head. “Oh I cannot imagine him not liking you,” she said. “Why would he not?”

“I’m quite certain he has a list,” you pointed out and Charlotte thought for a moment.

“I’m sure when he sees how in love you are with each other at tonight’s dinner, he will reconsider his stance.”

You raised your brows, that familiar nervousness spreading through you at the thought of tonight.

“How in love we are,” you repeated. “Right. This dinner should be interesting.”

                                                     *

You could swear the time had gone faster than usual until the dinner time. Lottie had left around the afternoon to go to her own house to prepare, and your aunt was so excited that she could hardly sit still until everything looked perfect, from the gifts you would take to Bridgerton house to your gown for the night. Your uncle was not as excited as she was, and yet he had fondness etched all over his face whenever he looked at her and saw her so happy.

If you could bring yourself to hope, you would have hoped for having a marriage similar to theirs, one he still could not help but smile whenever he saw her almost glowing in excitement, but you knew better than that.

Their marriage was an exception, something impossible for you to achieve.

No matter how sweet Benedict had been with you, as soon as you were wedded—

No.

You couldn’t think about that, not now.

“Clover, a word?”

You whirled around on your heels at the foyer while your aunt and Teddy stepped outside to make their ways to the carriage.

“Of course, uncle,” you said as he approached you, fixing his jacket.

“Do I look like a good in-law?”

A small giggle escaped from you and you narrowed your eyes, tilting your head in an attempt to look serious.

“Very much so,” you said. “Bridgertons will be lucky to have you.”

“Not luckier than they will be to have you,” he said and you bit down on your lip, averting your gaze.

“I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“I’m not—” you paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders. “I’m just not sure I will fit in with them.”

“Love has blessed you, my dear,” he said. “Perhaps you should give them or yourself a chance.”

You heaved a sigh and tried to smile.

“Let’s just get through this dinner,” you said. “And I will see about that.”

“More than I hoped for,” he said, gesturing surrender before offering you his arm. “Let’s get through this dinner then.”

You took his arm and walked out of the house with him, trying your hardest to repress the fear tensing all your muscles. However, you seemed to be the only one who had that issue because Teddy kept humming himself a tune the whole way to the Bridgerton house while your aunt filled your uncle in about her many ideas for the wedding.

That nervousness was getting harder the more people talked about that impending doom.

When the carriage came to a stop and the coachman opened the door, you took a shaky breath, digging your fingernails into your palms. Your uncle helped you and your aunt out, Teddy jumping out of the carriage full of excitement. The four of you made your way up the stairs as the doors opened before you all stepped in, Lady Bridgerton, Anthony and Benedict waiting for you in the foyer.

“Lord and Lady Thorne,” Lady Bridgerton greeted your uncle and aunt, only for them to greet her back, Anthony and Benedict doing the same.

“And Y/N, my dearest!” Lady Bridgerton said, kissing you on the cheek. “Welcome! Teddy, Gregory and Hyacinth are so happy that you’re here.”

“Thank you Lady Bridgerton,” you said and Benedict shot you a warm smile before he bowed.

“Miss Y/N.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted him back and Lady Bridgerton and your aunt exchanged smiles before you all made your way into the house. You narrowed your eyes at Anthony who glared at you back and Benedict looked between you two, frowning slightly.

“I heard you two met earlier?”

“We did,” you said drily and Anthony opened his mouth to say something but before he could, he was interrupted.

“Hello everyone,” the familiar cheerful voice reached you, making you turn your head to see Charlotte entering the house with a big smile on her face. “Thank you again for the invitation. My mama had to stay with the little ones but I hope my papa and I are enough to share the happiness!”

Charlotte’s father bowed, and quickly made his way to Lady Bridgerton and your uncle and aunt, and Anthony smiled softly at Lottie.

“Charlotte,” he said. “Welcome.”

Teddy held his breath, making you and Benedict turn to him.

“I forgot my gift!”

You frowned. “Teddy, uncle already—”

“No, my gift!” he said, already running out of the door and you rushed after him outside, with Benedict following you.

“Teddy!” you called out and he ignored you, approaching the carriage to pull himself up into it. You felt Benedict come up to you to stand by your side while you frowned but before you could go to Teddy he had already jumped out of the carriage, holding a couple of flowers from their stems with a proud grin on his face.

“I wanted to bring flowers for the ladies because ladies like flowers!” he said, holding them up for you to see them better, making Benedict chuckle. “And they’re all different, and this one will be for Miss Harlowe because it’s the prettiest one.”

You blinked a couple of times, taking a look at the different sized stems that looked awfully like they were ripped instead of cut. “Teddy, are those…from my garden?”

He nodded, happiness shining in his eyes and you couldn’t find it in your heart to scold him for it, so you cleared your throat.

“Oh?”

“They’re very beautiful Teddy,” Benedict said. “I’m sure Charlotte will love it, why don’t you go inside and give it to her?”

Teddy looked up at him, a small frown appearing on his face as his gaze darted between you and Benedict.

Oh.

Of course. He still feared Benedict would somehow make you leave just like Josie now that you were to be married.

“We’ll be right there,” you assured him. “Go ahead and give the ladies their flowers, they will be so happy.”

A bright smile lit up his face and he nodded, then ran back into the house, making you shake your head.

“Unbelievable.”

“He’s going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up,” Benedict said with a laugh and you heaved a sigh.

“That flower for Charlotte?” you said. “That’s gardenia.”

“Hard to grow?”

“One of the hardest,” you said, running a hand over your face. “Well at least he can appreciate the beauty of it.”

A silence fell upon you and you cleared your throat, then turned to go back into the house but Benedict touched your arm gently, making you stop.

“Can we—” his blue eyes searched your face. “Can we talk?”

It wasn’t fair that he looked this handsome even under the dim moonlight, and it certainly wasn’t fair that just with one look he managed to make your heart skip a beat. Reminding yourself to focus, you started fidgeting with the bracelet around your wrist.

“What is it?”

“Our engagement dinner,” he said with the ghost of a mischievous smile pulling at his lips and you bit inside your cheek to keep yourself from doing the same, then crossed your arms.

“I’m listening.”

He ran his hand through his black hair, messing it up in the most endearing way before he pointed at the house with his thumb.

“Only my mother and brother know about the details of our uh—sudden betrothal.”

You clicked your tongue. “Figures. Your brother had many opinions about it.”

“He tends to have that issue more often than you’d think,” he pointed out, nodding his head and you arched a brow.

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did he say to you?”

Benedict scrunched up his nose and scratched the back of his neck. “Oh he…congratulates us.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Try again.”  

“He wished us a lifetime of happiness.”

“Benedict,” you said, disbelief apparent in your tone and he cleared his throat, waving a hand in the air.

“He may have mentioned something about you being as sweet as a viper, now that I think about it.”

“Ah.”

“And that he would ask mother to pray for me because I would need it.”

“He’s not completely wrong,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “You might need a little more than a prayer if you’re insistent on spending a lifetime with me though.”

That playful light started glimmering in his eyes. “Looking forward to it.”

“I should gift your mother a Bible or something in case she wants to perform an exorcism on me.”

“Come on now,” he scoffed as if the mere idea was absurd. “You’re not being fair.”

“I think I am.”

“No you’re not,” he said. “A Bible? Teddy brought all the ladies in the house flowers, it’s quite obvious you will need to step it up when it comes to gifts.”

A laughter you couldn’t stop escaped from you and you pursed your lips together to hide it, ignoring his roguish smirk.

“So before we go in there,” you said, desperate to appear nonchalant. “It would be better if we established certain things about this…” you motioned between you. “Whatever this is.”

“Agreed,” Benedict said. “I actually took it upon me to fill them in on details because they kept asking me questions about everything between us.”

“That’s great,” you said. “I’ll just tell them the same then, because I’m not really good at…you know. Sharing things with people.”

“Shocking information,” he noted and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut it,” you said. “What did you tell them?”

“Well, Daphne asked when things started between us,” he said. “I told her that I found myself thinking of proposing to you within the season after the flower exhibition. Dreaming of our future together and such.”

You snapped your fingers. “That’s such a good lie. How did you come up with it?”

His gaze stopped on you for a moment, a look you couldn’t quite decipher crossing his face but it was gone as soon as it came before he took a deep breath.

“The painting,” he said. “I figured it’d be more convincing.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a happy flip upon remembering the painting.

“Alright,” you breathed out. “When did we fall in love?”

His head shot up. “What?”

“I mean the whole ton will believe we’re in love, we must have our story straight,” you said. “Any idiot could propose to someone when they’re infatuated. When did we realize it was true love and not some sort of infatuation?”

He didn’t even pause to think about it. “Greenhouse.”

“We weren’t supposed to be unchaperoned at the greenhouse, Benedict.”

Hearing his name from your lips made him smile slightly but he didn’t comment on it.

“Poetry reading then?”

You made a face. “Kitty was talking about how you would propose to her by the end of the season during the said poetry reading right behind me, that’s hardly romantic.”

He hummed. “I wasn’t aware you knew the meaning of the word romantic.”

“It’s a nonsense belief I must play into,” you said, rolling your eyes. “That’s what it means. So?”

“The night of the theatre.”

Your breath got caught in your throat when the memory of the rooftop hit you, making you bite at your lip.

“Now that I think about it, we did push our luck I think,” you muttered and Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“Third time was the charm,” he said. “But no, I’m not talking about the rooftop. I’m talking about the play.”

“We didn’t talk during the play.”

“Okay it’s never—” he paused. “I think we’re looking at it the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?”

A sad smile appeared on his face. “No one ever falls in love at the same time, someone always falls in love first.”

You both knew what he was referring to, and you averted your eyes from his to take a look at their garden.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t love, that he couldn’t possibly have fallen in love with you. It was lust at the very best, an infatuation he had convinced himself as love. He was going to realize that sooner or later, and when he did he would resent you, and it was going to turn into hate in no time and—

No.

You weren’t going to think about that now.

“How about this?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you swallowed thickly, turning your gaze to him. “I realized it was true love at the night of the poetry reading, and you realized it was true love during—”

“The dance,” you cut him off. “That would also play into how we…uh—were discovered after your proposal.”

A silence fell upon you for a moment and his gaze locked into yours.

“Y/N, we—” he started but was cut off when someone cleared their throat and you both turned your heads.

“Hello lovebirds,” Eloise joked and pointed back with the geranium she was holding, no doubt Teddy’s gift to her. “You’re expected for dinner. We can’t start without the guests of honor and I’m starving here.”

You nodded and took a deep breath, then offered her a smile.

“Of course. I didn’t notice the time.”

She nodded at Benedict. “Is he trying to convince you not to change your mind? Considering marriage is a prison that no sane person would want?”

“Eloise,” Benedict said with a sigh and she held up her hands.

“Fine, fine…”

Well, Eloise did have a point there, marriage was a prison but at this point, there was nothing you could do but walk into it.

“Shall we?” Benedict asked and offered you his arm, and you placed your hand on his arm, trying to ignore the sparks rushing through you.

“Yeah,” you said. “Let’s go, I’m starving as well.”

                                            *

It seemed that everyone was having fun at the dinner. Charlotte’s father was a sweet man, and he had gotten along well with your uncle in no time, Lady Bridgerton and your aunt no doubt planning the wedding, and Teddy, Gregory and Hyacinth were all on the other side of the table, talking and giggling. Charlotte had been seated next to Anthony, and they had been in a very deep conversation since the beginning of the dinner.  Daphne especially seemed very excited but perhaps because Benedict had warned her about it before, she managed to control herself and keep from asking about the plans for the wedding.

Even though it was a total sham, you had to admit you and Benedict had put up a very convincing performance so far. Perhaps it was because no one had pulled you or Benedict into a conversation yet, but you could feel the stolen glances and you were sure that sooner or later—

“So,” Lord Harlowe said, “The lovers at the table!”

And as it turned out, it would be sooner.

“Must we wait until the dessert or will you tell us the details about the proposal now?”

You tried to swallow down the nervousness and reached out to grab your glass, then took a huge sip as Benedict sat up straighter.

“The proposal?”

“Or anything really!” Charlotte said with a smile, making Anthony steal a look at her before turning to you both. “You refused to share your plans with even me, Benny. We tell each other everything!”

Anthony pressed his lips together before taking a sip of his wine while Daphne motioned at Benedict.

“I cannot believe you kept it a secret from all of us.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons, Daph.”

“I didn’t want you to scare my betrothed off, that’s enough of a reason,” Benedict said and Eloise grinned.

“And what was the reply when you proposed?” she asked. “I’m curious about that. How does one answer a proposal rather than running away?”

“Eloise—” Lady Bridgerton said but she was interrupted.

“I said yes.”

“She said of course,” you and Benedict talked at the same time and you pulled your brows together to shoot him a confused look.

“Of course?” you repeated as Anthony cleared his throat and you snapped your fingers. “I uh…I believe I said yes, of course.”

“I can hardly remember anything because I was incredibly nervous,” Benedict added in a haste and Hyacinth let out a breath.

“Were you scared she would say no, Benedict?”

“I was in fact convinced she would say no.” Benedict said and you nodded.

“I know the feeling.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly and Benedict bit down a smile.

“Well, I did tell you that you would fall in love,” your aunt said, pointing at you. “You tempted fate too much my dear, you always do.”

“And when did you two fall in love?” Charlotte asked, excitement laced in her tone and Benedict and you exchanged glances.

“After our first dance,” you said curtly, taking another sip of your drink just so that you could keep yourself busy and a silence fell upon the table before Benedict took a deep breath.

“For me it was the night of the poetry reading,” Benedict said, his voice soft. “I’ve had one moment with her, a fleeting one really, but I knew before our conversation was over—before she walked away from me yet again,” he added, making the rest of the table chuckle. “As she does all the time since the first day we met.”

You could feel your heartbeat getting faster as you stared at him, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

“But I knew,” he said. “Right there and then, that she is the inspiration to my very soul. That she will hold my heart forever.”

A chorus of aww raised from everyone around the table and you felt a fire spread over your face before you covered your face with your hands, your heartbeat almost deafening in your ears. You lowered your hands, unable to stop the smile on your face and Benedict held your hand to squeeze it, the familiar desire shooting through you from his simple touch. Your aunt pressed a hand on her chest while Eloise rolled her eyes, and your uncle shook his head slightly.

“Young love,” he muttered while Charlotte’s father raised his glass.

“Hear hear.”

“Excuse me for a moment please,” you managed to say as you pushed your chair back, then left the dinner table. You passed the hallway to open the window, the cold air hitting your face immediately but it did nothing to soothe the burning on your face, on your whole body.

You knew it was merely a performance for the others, to make them believe in your love so that there would be no questions asked about your betrothal, so that they would all feel happy about it but even you couldn’t help but feel that warmth in your chest, spreading through your system.

You weren’t supposed to feel anything like this. It was all a lie, and the minute you lowered your guard…

You knew better.

The footsteps coming closer made you turn your head and you offered Benedict a small smile.

“I just needed some air,” you said, motioning at the window. “I won’t be long.”

He smiled back and leaned sideways to the wall, crossing his arms. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes flickered over his handsome face and you took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” you said before you sat on the windowsill. “You have no reason to worry, I know it was all pretend.”

Benedict paused for a moment and swallowed thickly, pursing his lips together as if he was trying to hold back the words. Silence fell upon you as you found yourself admiring his beauty almost in a daze before you remembered to snap out of it, then threw your shoulders back.

“We should go back,” you murmured and stood up to step past him, but he touched your arm to make you stop.

“Y/N?”

You looked up at him. “Hm?”

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier,” he said “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

You pulled your brows together, looking at the hallway before turning to him again.

“It’s just us here,” you said. “No one else to hear it, you don’t need to say that.”

“I’m not saying it for anyone else to hear it,” he said with a soft smile. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, that fire over your cheeks getting even worse as you blinked a couple of times, at a loss for words while that pleasant warmth burst through your chest, spreading through your bloodstream. You opened your mouth, then closed it again and walked past him in a haste to go back to the dining room, trying your hardest to stop the smile curling your lips.

Chapter 11

[kariachi]

Guess what I've been working on all damn day- fic! 4500 words of a day in Kwarrel's childhood.

Warning: A good part of why he ended up where he did is because of abuse in the family, extended and otherwise, so...

~~

He was comfortable. The mattress just hard enough, his position perfect, Jaja curled up on his belly. Any sunlight coming in the window hadn’t made it all the way to his bed, and with the electric lights still off slipping back into sleep was as easy as

“Suthryen!” A sharp kick to his leg jolted his eyes open, glaring slow death at Ungyov.

“Give me collarfoot why don’t you,” he hissed, their voices low enough to not wake their younger siblings. She just gave him a nasty smile.

“That’s an idea, then you can spend all your days with Grandpa.” His frown twisted at the thought. “Get up, you heard Dad, he wants you to go to the garden.”

“Yeah, I heard him.” Swinging a hand in her direction, still too groggy to put in the effort to get a proper hit in, he glared at her back as she rolled her eyes and walked away. Once she’d returned to her bed and began getting herself ready for the day, he heaved a sigh and slowly sat up. Jaja croaked his aggravation at all the disturbances, but didn’t fight as he was lifted up and set back down on the mattress. “I don’t like this any more than you do, grandfather.”

The old prout didn’t go back to sleep, giving a long stretch and settling in to chew at claws and greying scales as his favored owner cracked open the chest at the foot of his bed and blindly yanked out a shirt and pair of pants. He didn’t even bother to get out of bed to dress, shucking and replacing pajamas while sat there. His sister’s wadded pajamas nearly nailed him when he rolled onto his back to swap pants, only taking as much care as needed not to squish Jaja.

“Nobody needs that on display.”

“I have to look at your face all day, you can look at my butt for a minute.” Rolling back into a sitting position, he grabbed the pajamas and threw them back at her, giving a little huff when she dodged. Between her narrowed eyes and frown, he could tell she wanted to stomp her feet at him, and smirked at the knowledge she wouldn’t risk waking the others.

~

The bathroom was large enough for them to not be falling over each other as they washed their faces, brushed their teeth, tended manes. One of the benefits of being the oldest at home was only having to share with each other in the early morning hours, and while they stood as far apart as they could, it didn’t stop them savoring the peace and space for as long as they could get away with it.

As long as he could get away with it. While Ungyov fiddled with makeup she wasn’t supposed to have for another year, he made his way down the hall with Jaja at his heels. Passed the children’s room, passed winter storage, to slip inside the adults’ rooms. He was careful as he opened the door, and rewarded for that caution by the sight of his eldest grandmother and youngest brother still asleep in their respective beds. Quietly, he made a straight path through and to his father and grandfather’s room. Setting Jaja on his father’s bed, he grabbed the basket from it’s hook, the key to the garden from its hiding place, and used the latter to slip out the door into the courtyard.

Without a thought his legs carried him to the rimih shed, the long-legged things flapping their wings and giving chattering calls as they rushed from out among the lush blue foliage to crowd around his ankles.

“I know, I know, bright morning to you too,” he said, finally able to speak normal as he did a quick headcount. Satisfied everyone was there, he hooked up the water faucet against the shed and turned it on. Either his father or grandfather would come out after breakfast to shut it off again, when the system had watered the plants that needed it daily and filled the rimih’s trough with it clean and fresh. Some of the flock split off, attracted by the flow of water, but the rest continued to crowd as he rounded the coop to the feed bin. There were only so many pests in the garden, even in midsummer, with the drain leading out passed the house and the open sky above it, and so he made sure the scoop of dried meat scraps he cast out onto the ground for them was heaping. With them suitable distracted, he was able to slip inside the shed and grab the morning’s eggs without having to kick anybody aside.

After that it was a simple matter of walking around the garden and grabbing things for breakfast. Some leafy greens, some fresh fruit. It was past the season for the good flowers, or for green twigs, but he grabbed a few handfuls that hadn’t turned all woody yet, and snuck a few late blooms for himself since no one was there to see. A large squash that seemed ready to go was contemplated before being cut from its vine with his pocket knife. A final look around the courtyard, the child-painted walls and well-loved plants, pulled him towards one of the berry bushes. His grandfather’s favorite, he cut free a small branch heavy with fruit and dropped it into the basket before picking up the squash and heading inside.

~

“Morning Su.”

“Suthryen.”

“Morning.” Shoulders tense, he nodded to his father and grandfather as he entered the kitchen, Jaja trailing behind, taking in the scent of breakfast cooking. The smell of roasting tubers, squash, spices and herbs, were a balm after making his way through the living area. After the admonishments one of his mothers had given him from where the women and Ungyov watched the news for grabbing the squash when it was too late in the morning to cook it properly for breakfast.

“A nice selection,” his father said with a smile as Suthryen set the squash on the counter and held up the basket for inspection. The eggs in particular seemed tiny in his large hands as he moved them onto the counter, alongside the greens. “Could you peel the good parts from these twigs and pit some fruit for the kids?”

Something in his gut leapt and roiled all at once at not being in that group, but he nodded with a “Yes, sir” as he picked a spot out of the way of the proper cooking going on. The fruits would be quick, only a few needed pitting, so he stacked the twigs on the counter in front of him to start with. Pocketknife in hand, he began to shave the parts soft enough to chew into a pile, proust curled up on his feet. Easy, methodical work, and he was a good chunk of the way through before his grandfather dropped a hot pan loaded with a variety of thin sliced tubers not far from him. He couldn’t help but jump at the clatter, turning to face the old man’s frown.

“You still can’t peel twigs right?” Stepping aside, ignoring Jaja’s croaking, Suthryen put up no resistance in spite of the burning in his gut as twig and knife were all but snatched from his hands. In a single, smooth motion his grandfather peeled a long, curling strip away, a sharp contrast to the shorter, irregular strips he’d managed. Even with aging joints he finished the twig quickly and easily, all but slamming the knife on the counter when he was done. “It’s not difficult.”

“Buxun,” his father cut in in a tone closer to pleading, “he’s still young.”

“He,” his grandfather said with a huff, “is already twelve. Nearly a man and he can’t even peel twigs.” He ground his teeth against his temper as the old man shook his head. “You keep coddling your boys like this and they’re going to be useless in the caravans. Why do you think the older two haven’t been back? Shunted off to some other group at the first chance, I’d bet money.”

As if anyone would come back. He was sure his older brothers had gone as far as they could as soon as they could, just as he planned to do once his fifteenth came. Still, he wasn’t quite fool enough yet to speak his mind, or give in and kick his grandfather’s cane out from under him, merely retrieving his knife and returning to his work, trying his best to get to long strips that were expected of him.

A quick glance at his father showed him turned silently back to the stove.

~

His younger siblings were playing when he went to get them ready for the day, but quickly fell in line once he walked in. Toys were put away, clothes changed, faces and hands washed, teeth and manes brushed. Zimily was still favoring his wrist, and rushed to steal Maine’s seat when they arrived for breakfast. There was a hushed argument between the two before a grandmother growled at them to both sit down.

Suthryen couldn’t bring himself to do much more than roll his eyes as Maine settled into their brother’s normal seat beside him. So Zimi was avoiding him, maybe now he’d finally learn not to mess with his stuff.

Breakfast was normal. A puree with nut butter for the grandparents and little Naeigyn, and with caramelized nuts for the rest of the family. The youngest also got to share in the soft-cooked eggs with greens, though his came with cheese. All the children got cheese, dense blocks that showed no sign of having melted during frying and that squeaked under knife and between teeth, from Maine all the way to Ungyov, who face screwed up at the sight of it.

“I’m grown enough,” she griped, “I don’t need dairy anymore.” As she said it, she pushed the platter down closer to the younger children, earning a glare from one of their mothers.

“You are a child,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument, “and a skinny one at that.” Standing, she reached down the table to spear a block and drop in intently onto Ungyov’s plate. “You need to put on weight, or are you intending your sister and cousins to put in all the work charming a man?” Though she continued to frown, she hunched her shoulders and turned back to her plate, listlessly piling twig shavings and roasted tubers like it might hide the offending product.

“No, ma’am.”

~

A normal breakfast of the adults and Ungyov talking about the news and weather and plans for the day while the younger children discussed what school would hold and Suthryen kept an eye on his siblings and a hand on the prout in his lap lead into everyone who would leave the house gathering their things. School books, work gloves, hats, and a pack lunch for Muhnea’s mother specifically, who didn’t intend to come home for the meal. Everything he would need, a few things his younger siblings would need, and a few leftover pieces of fruit made their way into his pockets before the front door opened like a floodgate and the family spilled out onto the street.

While their mothers headed towards the river, he and his siblings headed for the next neighborhood over. School beckoned, whether they liked it or not. Opinions varied wildly, even just in their own household, nonetheless as they started acquiring cousins. All the herd’s school-aged children, all heading in the same direction to the same location.

“Kwarrel!” A weight lifted off his shoulders as Ausom stumbled to a stop at his side, punching his shoulder as he did. Taking a quick look around found Fadesi not far behind, herding two of his own younger siblings to catch up.

“Hey,” he called as he reached them, his own little herd joining Suthryen’s as both his older cousins jostled him. “What are the chances by maths teacher died overnight.”

“Probably pretty low,” Suthryen said, patting his shoulder in consolation.

“I don’t want to take this test,” Fadesi groaned. “I couldn’t even study last night, it was chaos at home!” Suthryen nodded his understanding, he only had five siblings at home, but poor Fadesi had seven, including another toddler and a sister too young for school, and you could tell their mothers were siblings. Ausom, meanwhile, just grinned at them, checking to see if anyone was paying attention before shuffling a few steps closer to them.

“So, you’d be happy to skip with me then?” The other boys were quiet for a moment.

“What did you do?” Huffing, Ausom pulled himself up straight and stared them down. It didn’t really work.

“I didn’t do anything,” he declared, then relaxed, leaning in again. “My sister was part of that mine inspection, and she says they might have found some decent veins the last herd left behind.” Eyes going wide, Suthryen and Fadesi went from keeping at least one eye on their younger siblings to giving their cousin their full attention.

“And?”

“And it’s still not guarded yet,” he continued. “If there’s some good gems in there we could make our own beads.” A tempting argument, as they walked along with wooden beads and simple embroidery on their clothes. For all their herd primarily made beads the vast majority of the nice ones- out of gems and metal pulled out of the river and off the mountain- were sold to neighboring herds and passing caravans. The very idea of having something so fancy was enough to have Suthryen fingering the patterns along his shirt’s hem.

“Are you sure nobody is watching it,” Fadesi asked, and Ausom nodded.

“Yeah! They’re still arguing about whether it’s worth the effort!” He checked again, still grinning. “Nobody’s paying attention, we slip off, fill our pockets, and we’ll be set!” Slip off- Suthryen looked at the rest of the crowd, his younger siblings, then shared a look with Fadesi. Ausom’s older brother hadn’t left yet, but they were the oldest boys at home and they knew exactly what would happen if they left their younger siblings to walk without them.

“We’ll go when we get to the school,” Suthryen said, full of the knowledge that Fadesi was young enough to argue with and he was big enough not to. Face falling, Ausom groaned.

“Seriously?”

“We’d to be able to walk to school tomorrow,” Fadesi added, and between the two of them Ausom huffed, but didn’t push the matter.

“When are we going to get our own school, anyway,” he grumbled. “I’m sick of walking to a whole other neighborhood just so somebody else’s aunts can tell me what to do.”

“Acuni’s working on that, isn’t she,” Fadesi asked, turning to Suthryen, who nodded.

“Yeah, once she done in school she’s gonna be a teacher.” Huffing, Ausom rolled his eyes and got a hard sock to the arm for it. Nobody outside the household got to roll their eyes at his siblings.

“I don’t think one teacher’s going to do much,” he said, rubbing what would surely be a bruise as he stepped away from Suthryen and his glare. “What would we even do with just one?”

“Teach the boys at least,” Faderi said. “Grandmother Miehu hates that we keep having to leave the neighborhood, calls it ‘bachelor behavior’.” All three of them huffed at that, Suthryen kicking harshly at the dirt beneath his feet.

“Almost want to go to class now.”

~

As planned, while everyone else was heading into the school the three of them held back and slipped away, backtracking for home and beyond it to the mine. Quite the long walk, easily four, five times longer than just getting to school in the first place, but perfectly manageable for three young boys with adventure and small riches in front of them. Manageable and worth it to be stood in front of the big opening to the mine, fiddling with the lock on the fence. How had none of them come prepared for a lock? How had Ausom not come prepared for a lock?

“How long is this going to take,” Faderi asked, leaning against the fence while Ausom continued to fail at breaking in. Suthryen was in the process of looking around the area, maybe find another way inside. “Kwarrel and I need to be back at the school before lunch.”

“It’s not my fault you guys are scared,” Ausom said, throwing a glare at Faderi and ignoring their cousin hefting a large rock. “If you’re that worried then leave, I’m getting in here.” Glaring, Faderi pulled himself up and started-

“Hey!!”

The other boys started and turned in time for Ausom to throw himself away from the fence and barely out of the way of Suthryen slamming a rock against the lock with as much force as he could manage. In shocked silence the two watched him yank and fiddle with the old pieces of metal attaching it to the fencing, sheered mostly free from the blow. With only a few minutes forcing he’d managed to work them off, tossing the whole set to the side, pinging it off the rock. He shoved the door open, heading inside with a purposeful gait as Faderi collected himself and chased after.

“Kwarrel,” he said, “you could have taken Ausom’s head off!”

“I warned him.”

“A little more next time, please.” Rolling his eyes at the pleading, Suthryen continued like he hadn’t heard.

“You broke my knife,” Ausom called as he ran in, glaring when Suthryen turned around.

“What, worried,” he asked, meeting him glare for glare. “I have places to be.” For a long minute they continued glaring before Ausom tore his gaze away, digging in his pocket and pulling out a flashlight.

“I’m the one with the light, idiot,” he said, shoving his way to the front of the trio and starting further into the mine. Suthryen glared and snarled after him, Faderi slipping in between him as they followed his silhouette against the light.

The mine itself was large and old, with electric lights they didn’t even try to turn on running along the ceiling and an old cart track to one side. It also had more twists and turns than they had expected. None of them knew anything about mines, not really, and while they and many others had found ways inside over the years, they themselves had never gone very deep. There was a brief huddled discussion of how to deal with all the offshoot tunnels before they came to a general agreement to stick to the left wall going in and then the right coming out. Following the walls led them deeper and deeper into the mountainside, down various turns and crossroads.

They chatted as they went, voices low to avoid echoes that made the mine seem deeper and fuller than it was. About school, shows, games, siblings, cousins, plans for the future. Not that there were a lot of options on that last one, it was ‘stay with the caravans’ or ‘marry and raise kids’ really, but enough for a discussion and friendly teasing. Assurances that it was a good thing Faderi wasn’t interested in finding wives because he was too ugly to find decent ones. It was during this teasing, just before Faderi started kicking people, that Ausom caught a glint of something at one of the walls.

"What is it,” Suthryen asked as the three of them crowded around small patch of yellow crystals, eyes darting between the stones and Ausom. The other boy looked it over intently, handing the flashlight off to Suthryen as he motioned for Faderi’s pocketknife. With an effort that had it’s owner cringing, he used it to pry a crystal loose for better inspection.

“It is… andalusite,” he declared with all the confidence of someone who shouldn’t have been so confident, but was surrounded by people who somehow knew less than him, and so could get away with it. The others ‘ooo’ed appropriately, and since Faderi was knifeless, Suthryen handed him the flashlight while he pulled out his own. Together, he and Ausom set to work on the cluster of crystals with their knives and the occasional nearby rock.

While far from experts, between the two of them they managed a solid handful of little yellow stones that Faderi counted out into three equal piles as they went. They were downright tiny things, but still the boys took several minutes twisting them back and forth in the light to watch them shine and talking about where they would use them once they’d made them into proper beads. It was the topic of the walk back, a fun and fitting distraction as each walked with a hand on the right wall. Everything was success and laughter as they were briefly left blind stepping out into the light of the mid-afternoon sun.

Faderi and Suthryen froze.

“Masus ihrere sirs-!!”

~

They made sure to get back to the school before lessons ended for the day, and walked their younger siblings home like good older brothers, tense as springs and back ramrod straight all the while.

Suthryen’s grandmothers’ response when he got home still wasn’t for polite company.

~

The rimih weren’t quite stupid enough to be underfoot and Jaja was staying curled up under a shrub when his father found him in the garden, storming circles around the place in leu of tearing up paving stones and heaving them at the walls. His appearance at the door raised his hackles, just then when he wanted- Not to lick his wounds, to throw things and fight people, but his grandparents, his mothers, were all bigger and outnumbered him. If they hadn't-

“Su.” Suthryen stopped, fists clenched, as his father spoke. Long strides brought him to his side, meeting his glower with a frown and putting a cool, damp cloth to the swelling under his eye. It wasn’t the only place he was hurt, or would have bruises come morning, but he still couldn’t help but lean his head, just barely, against it. Setting a hand carefully on his shoulder, his father heaved a sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”

He bit his tongue, held back the urge to say he’d do what he always did, what he’d done in the front room. Nothing. That there was nothing to him but empty pleas and inaction. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, jaw clenched on the side that didn’t ache.

“First all the fighting, then the temper with your siblings, and now you’re running off, some days I’d swear you’re trying to get into trouble.” The words brought tears he wouldn’t let fall to his eyes, the idea that his own father- Heaving another sigh, he pulled Suthryen into a tight hug. “At least promise me you won’t go into the mines again. You boys could have gotten hurt, or trapped, and we may never have found out.”

Suthryen trembled with anger, hurt, but eventually gave a slow nod. It seemed to pull a weight from his father’s shoulders, and when he pulled away he just seemed sad. Pathetic even.

“I think,” he said, “it’s probably best your mothers don’t see you again today.” Somehow tensing even further, Suthryen gave an unfortunate nod, even as his father stroked his mane. “How about, you go run yourself a bath, and I’ll bring you dinner later. Alright?” With something that felt like regret and felt like relief, Suthryen stepped out of his reach.

“Alright.”

~

It was the first time in at least weeks, possibly months, that he got the bathroom to himself for more than a few minutes at a time, and Suthryen made sure to take full advantage. Drawing a nearly scalding bath, topping the water up every time it started to chill, and doing his best to relax into the heat. Especially when the yelling started at the other end of the house, not loud enough to hear but enough for Jaja to hop onto the edge of the tub where he could easily pull him into the water with him. His mothers, one of his grandmothers, little Naeigyn started sobbing at one point, a sound that travelled through the house as he was taken to the relative quiet of their parents’ quarters.

For not the first or the last time in his childhood, he was happy to be able to just pack up and go to his room rather than join everyone for dinner.

~

His father managed to slip in about two hours after the screaming stopped, ostensibly making his way to replace the basket in his room, and hand off a plate loaded down with two meals worth of leftovers.

“Don’t worry about getting the plate back,” he said as Suthryen stared down at the pile with mixed emotions. “I’ll handle it tomorrow.” Slowly, he nodded.

“Thanks, Dad.” His father smiled at him.

“No problem, Su. Sleep well.”

He watched the door as he slipped away, listening for the sound of his feet on brick, and the silence of nobody following. Only once he was sure he would stay alone did he tear into his food like someone who hadn’t eaten since mid-morning.

~

“Are you still up?”

Hours later, Suthryen started as Ungyov walked into the room, shutting off his flashlight on instinct. Logically he knew there was nothing wrong in what he was doing, thumbing through a book for growing boys he’d inherited from his older brothers, but it’d begun feeling otherwise in the past several months. As she crossed to her bed in the dark, he stowed it away in his chest and pulled his pajamas back out. She was allowed to be up over an hour longer than him and he knew from experience she wouldn’t let up until he was all tucked in at least.

“I’m just supposed to be in bed,” he said as he started changing, “the rules don’t say anything about sleeping.”

“Intent of the law, not the letter.” Other than his responding huff and the annoyed croaking of Jaja, poor old thing just couldn’t get sleep in, the room fell into a comfortable quiet. At least until Suthryen was getting his pants changed.

“You know, you won’t be able to get away with that in the caravans.”

“What do you know about the caravans?”

“That even they expect you to be civilized.” With the sound of her falling back onto her mattress, he threw a rude gesture across the room and tried to settle in himself. The space filled with the quiet shuffling of blankets and pillows, clink of a plate under a pillow knocking against tiling, the croak of a prout being picked up and set in his normal place on his owner’s belly. Stroking the animal’s back, Suthryen took and released a deep breath, eyes sliding shut.

“Hey.” Not bothering to open his eyes again- wasn’t she the one who wanted him sleeping? sisters... -he just made a curious, annoyed noise. “Are you okay?”  That was all it took to make him go still, letting the words sink in and through.

“Yeah,” he lied.

“Good.” There was a hint of relief to her voice, more shuffling of covers. “Night.” Another deep breath, this time with a wobble he hoped she couldn’t hear.

“Night.”

[loquaciousquark]

8th August. Genuinely cool today, glorious! Won’t last

I keep having to go to the keep for sundry Champion paperwork ephemera, and I noticed last week there’s a stain right at the bottom of the steps. It looks brown and stubborn despite the scrub-marks on the stone around it—in fact, it’s where Dumar’s head landed, and now that I’ve seen it I can’t stop seeing it. I asked Aveline, and she said she’s noticed it too. She tried to get at it herself with lye while I was out, but she said it wouldn’t budge. I didn’t even know stone could take up blood like that... although I suppose Kirkwall would be the place prone to that kind of thing.

There’s still no news of a new Viscount. Bran’s running the place as best he can (which, as it happens, would be a good deal better if he’d stop wasting so much time rolling his eyes at me every time he sees me), but Lady Ashbridge said on Pelarie’s visit last week that there’s rumors Meredith’s just going to run the city instead. Surely they won’t let that happen, though--how much power does one person need?

Then again...it’s Kirkwall.

I should talk to Varric.

In other news, took Sebastian to dinner the other day as thanks for accompanying me to the ball. Went to the Lime Pavilion, which has a twenty-sov minimum plate, but with Varric at the helm all my money does these days is make lots of tinier little baby monies, so I might as well get some use out of it. He had beef that came in a glass bowl with gold around the edges, and I had fish that was cut in the shape of a fish. Made it even worse that it was the most delicious thing I’ve had in months.

Spent the whole meal quietly panicking about which of my three forks to use. Serves me right for trying to cater to royalty’s nobler instincts. Sebastian covered for me well, but I’d just as soon sit with Isabela off the docks, swigging green liquor from a cracked bottle.

Haven’t heard from her even once since Cloudreach. I hope she’s alive.

16th August. Light showers all day, just enough to curl my hair into a right rat’s nest

I think I’m going to set Pelarie up with my next-door neighbor. Jule’s clever and kind and not quite as flat beneath her mother’s foot, and she’s got a great deal more in common with Pelarie than I do. Forgot to get a bit of drake ichor out from behind my ears the other day and Pelarie turned so green she might have grown gills. Her mother didn’t care for it either. Need to stop being jealous over people with mothers Besides, even if Jule’s not as flashy a catch she’s likely got a much better life expectancy.

Meant that to be funny, not bitter. Ah, well.

23rd August. Cooler again, a bit salty with some northerly winds off the Coast

Had a nice moment today I didn’t expect. I was sitting out back under the yew tree, trying to see if I felt any different with only one kidney, when I heard the back door open and out came Sandal with a bit of wood and a carving knife. He didn’t say anything, just sat next to me on the stone bench, and quietly began shaping it into something small, something with wings. It was...

It was rather lovely, actually.

Made up for this miserable All Soul’s Day at the beginning of August. Everyone dancing on their toes around Mother, as if I might turn to glass at the slightest memory of her. Can’t help but feel Isabela would have

Sandal hummed something I almost recognized while he was sitting with me. Then Bodahn came out and that moment was gone, but in favor of one just as pleasant, because he sat with us on the bench too (the benefit of a wide bench and two dwarvish sets of hips, I suppose), and with only the teensiest bit of coaxing he began telling us (me?) about some of his travels with the Hero of Ferelden.

Some days I wish I were her. Or--at least I wish I had her enemies. It must have been so nice knowing what you fought was evil through and through.

24th August. Still cool

Dreamed last night that I was trying to save Mother from the foundry, but she kept turning into darkspawn. Might know they’re evil, but that doesn’t help the horror at the twisted, slavering teeth. At least Meredith is people-shaped.

Ugh. Can’t get rid of these chills. I wonder if Varric has anything that needs doing.

2nd Kingsway. Saw the first orange leaf today and nearly cried from joy

Went to the Gallows this morning to talk to Solivitus. Had some harlot’s blush I thought he might like, which he did, but for the first time I found myself not entirely at ease with the way the templars’ eyes followed me the whole trip. I hadn’t been there since the Arishok, and Maker but was I glad Fenris and Aveline came with me. I don’t think they’d try anything without Meredith’s say-so, but this was the first time I felt that little tingling what-if in the back of my skull telling me I’d better watch my hide.

We’d be packing up tonight, if this were Lothering.

Anyway, while I was there I saw a girl that looked terribly familiar darting about between some of those market stands. Turns out she’s Pelarie’s little sister--not sixteen yet--who got caught making inkwells tip over from the back of the room while she was away at school. The Ashbridges called some favors and had her placed here, where they could visit.

More than I thought of Lady Ashbridge, even if I wouldn’t send my most hated feather boa into their care. (Meant the Gallows templars, but to be quite honest the Ashbridges too)

Pelarie says she’s been trying to send their grandmother’s necklace to her, but she’s afraid they’ll take it away. Jule (very kind about me crashing their tea) said she’d heard Gallows apprentices are allowed very few personal possessions, but she knew a family who used to send their son fritters and preserves and things all the time, so there might be some strings to pull if I can find them.

Well. What’s this damned title for, if not string-pulling?

8th Kingsway. Brisk and with the faintest smell of those crisp autumn apples from the cart down the street

Went to the Gallows again today. Saw Cullen, who sighs when I come into his office but at least doesn’t reach for a guardswhistle, and told him I wanted Pelarie’s sister to be given her family necklace. He argued with me for a good bit about keeping apprentices’ focus sharp on their studies and the risk of reminders of family ties compromising their emotional blah blah blah blah.

I said I’d work on that rumor about the blood mage cult springing up in Darktown if he’d let her keep it, and he said yes.

My skin has been crawling since I left that place, and that was almost three hours ago.

What if that were me? What if that were Bethany?

Later

For the first time in my life, I thought to myself “thank goodness she died first” after I wrote that line above and it’s rattled me so badly that I can’t

I hate

how could

Maker, I hate

15th Kingsway. One last damned heat wave. The Maker is mocking me. Or Andraste is instead, and I’ve just been rejected by every higher power who ever thought twice about sending this city even the faintest zephyr of relief

Asked Toby today if he wanted another dog in the house. He gave me the archest look I’ve ever seen on a mabari’s face and stalked in high dudgeon to the back garden, where he very deliberately pissed on the stone bench. Haven’t offended him that badly since I tied him all over in yellow ribbon and asked him to dance the Remigold with me.

I’d forgotten how drunk I was at that party

Anders and Merrill and I are going out to the southern side of Sundermount tomorrow. Anders needs elfroot and more spindleweed, and Merrill thinks there might be a supply of ironbark somewhere there she can use to create or work on or something for her arulin...oh, hells. How the Void do you spell that word?

I was considering asking Varric for a fourth just in case, as Aveline has another (and another and another and another) evening with Donnic planned. For as much as she went through getting to this city in the first place, I hate to take her away from the one shining light she’s found in it so far.

On the other hand, she does have our own glorious friendship as a second equally bright shining light. Maybe I can call that in as the cheap bargaining tactician I am.

Later.

Aveline said no.

Varric said no.

Sebastian said no.

Merrill said “arulin’holm.”

Fenris said yes, then no when he heard who was going, and then yes again when I said Anders they would probably be so interested in their own collecting that Anders they would hardly have time to needle.

Also, I begged.

16th Kingsway. I am cursed beyond the ken of mortal memory

We’re stranded on the damned mountain.

It was cloudy when we left and it only got darker, but everyone said to keep going, we could beat the rain before it got bad. Ha! Had to take a narrow path to get to this ironbark of Merrill’s, and while we were up the cliffs a freak storm came from nowhere and washed the whole path to a great lot of boulders and rotten logs. Stopped raining not twenty minutes later, but the damage was already done. Merrill’s been looking for another way down but it’s almost dusk and I think we’ll have to camp.

I keep expecting Fenris and Anders to be either furious or intolerably snippy, but every time I accidentally make eye contact (despite the enormous effort I’m exerting to avoid exactly that), they both seem perfectly cheerful. Well, as cheerful as they get. Anders even smiled at some comment Fenris made about how once when he slept outside, a handful of territorial crows chased him right out of a tree.

Almost said it could be worse. At least Merrill’s managed to get a fire going—everything’s soaked to the bone.

24th Kingsway. Still cold, damp, foggy, grey

Made it home from Sundermount, obviously, and all four of us have the most glorious head colds to show for it. Merrill and I ended up having to carve through a good deal of the detritus from the landslide with magic, which even Fenris didn’t blink at given the alternative was another night in open air. Cold, frosty open air, with occasional winds sharp enough to split a nosehair.

I was strongly inclined to see what Anders’s healing could do for this, but he says a head cold won’t kill any of us and it’s good to let the body fight on its own occasionally, which sounded so much like my father I left his clinic in perfect childlike resentment.

That was yesterday. Surely if I tell him I’m dying today he won’t mind if I touch myself up, just a little. My nose is both so stuffy I can’t breathe and running so badly I’ve taken to shoving napkins up it all morning.

How blightedly unfair. All this nonsense and I can’t even breathe to complain about it properly.

25th Kingsway. See previous, bloody unchanged, and no I’m not upset about it, why do you ask

Maker and all his holy works, but Fenris is pitiful. Never have I ever seen an elf laid so low by a little fever and a stopped nose. I went over this morning with some of Orana’s father’s soup just in case, but he was cocooned so deep in his blankets all I could see was the very tip of one dark, pointed ear. Then he told me to go away with the saddest little sneeze right in the middle of a word.

Made him finish the soup and drink an entire glass of water. He called me a Tevinter word that he claims means “sadist,” but he did at least un-cocoon long enough to say goodbye.

I keep wondering if he’s ever had anyone bother to care he was sick before—at least, that he remembers. Somehow I doubt it.

26th Kingsway, somewhere around midnight, I don’t know

Fenris’s fever worsened all day today, until by late afternoon I couldn’t rouse him properly. Anders came by around dinner and must have seen the panic in my face, because the first thing he told me after examining him was that he’d be fine. He left a vial of something thick—I recognized the elfroot and I think embrium, but to be honest I was watching Fenris struggle to turn over—and said he should have a teaspoon every hour until breakfast tomorrow. He said he’d be fine. We just have to wait for the fever to take its course.

Flames, he looks awful, even asleep. Grey in the face and he’s got a chesty cough that sounds wet. The first time it happened I had a violent flash to Carver in the Deep Roads and nearly upset the lunch tray. Anders and I both worked what healing we could, but there’s only so much to be done for something like this. Maker, my father’s death taught me that, and that was almost ten years ago.

Anders said he’d be fine. He didn’t even stay, which of itself is enough to tell me there’s nothing to worry about.

If Fenris feels half as bad as he looks, he must feel like death.

Later. Early?

Failed to occur to me that in the absence of pinned candles, the only way to make sure Fenris gets one of these doses every hour is to stay up myself.

Not much gets by my eagle’s eyes these days, but I suppose even the most avid hunter misses one once in a while.

3rd bell

Hawk’s eyes. Damn!

4th bell and a bit

Fenris woke up this time, just for a few minutes. He’s not really been present since afternoon, so it was...it was a relief to see lucidity. Tired, too, but one must make allowances here and there.

He was enough himself to complain about the sourness of the potion. I told him if he felt able to be picky about the taste he ought to be able to take another cup of soup and some water, and he called me the Tevinter sadist again.

He just went back to sleep, but he still looks terrible. His breathing is better, though.

Almost 5th bell, still dark as pitch

First time I’ve ever been truly glad I live so close to this blasted elf. Was able to run home and dig out some spare linens from one of Orana’s closets before I had to wake him again. He’s sweated his pillow through and his sheets are soaked. If he’s still improving on this next dose I’ll roll him off long enough to get the fresh sheets down.

Half past, still darker than light outside, though the horizon’s fading a bit grey

He just went back to sleep. Got the new sheets on—he didn’t understand why at first, which...I didn’t know what to say to that except that I knew he’d feel acres better on clean, dry bedclothes, and I intended to change them whether he was willing or not.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was plain he was relieved to be out of that damp mess.

I was too, if I’m being honest.

Anyway, he wasn’t eager to go back to sleep after, despite the potion putting him just a touch loopy. We chatted about...oh, nothing of consequence, only Toby and apples and Varric’s latest pamphlet about the Championship ceremony and how the weight of that iron circlet has bent better heads than mine, and only time will tell how I carry its burden, etc, etc. Sometimes I wish Varric lent a little less effort to dramatic irony and a little more to my public credentiality. Credentials?

Talked a bit about Stinton and Pelarie and the rest, too. I told him I was doing well enough with their mothers, but that Lady Ashbridge might resent me pushing Pelarie into the arms of another woman right under her nose. Ah, but such is the uneven course of love.

He asked me about his sister twice near the end, which was how I knew the potion was kicking in at last. I had nothing I could tell him either way, and the second time I’m not even certain he was talking to me.

He asked if she was real. Maker, I wish I knew.

It’s not right that no one but me cares if Fenris is uncomfortable in illness-damp sheets.

Almost seventh bell, flames

Dozed off in the chair with the broken foot just before sixth bell. Didn’t come close to waking until a marvelously inconsiderate sunbeam punched me right in the eyes over Fenris’s windowsill, at which point I dropped my elbow off the armrest and gave myself whiplash trying not to tumble from the chair altogether.

Other arm stayed put, though, and Fenris didn’t even stir, which is the only reason I know he took hold of my hand while I was asleep—and possibly while he was asleep, which is the only reason I refuse to read more into it. His fingers were laced through mine, and the lyrium was humming ever so faintly, just enough that I could feel the—the shiver as I let him go.

I could have stayed there for hours, I think, if I hadn’t pulled the Void out of my neck sleeping sideways in that chair.

His color’s almost normal again, though he’s still a trifle wan. Thank you, Andraste. Not that I was worried.

I wasn’t worried. Anders said he’d be fine. I just wanted--someone this sick ought to have a friend take care of them until they’re well. Everyone deserves at least that much. 

Ah, I think he’s beginning to wake up.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 1

Read on AO3. Part 2 here.

Summary: You’re a Lieutenant, stationed on Orinda. You’re content with your trustworthy crew, but issues with a certain ship (spoiler alert: it’s the TIE silencer) end up trapping you on the Steadfast, instead. Your relationship with Kylo Ren isn't how you left it. How many more messes can you stand to clean?

(Yes, this is the sequel to Fix Your Attitude.)

Words: 4500

Warnings: None. Yet.

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: Umm... hi!! I don't have much to say other than I'm very excited to post this, and I really hope you enjoy it! I love you all so much. I'm genuinely lucky and grateful to have you in my life.

You weren’t ready.

Since the alert had come in that the First Order would be sending a transporter to Orinda, your hands had been jittery. There’d been no indication, no hint as to what your team should be expecting when they arrived. In the four months since you’d arrived at the fuel post, you hadn’t received a single visitor from the brass.

“Hey, Chief.” 

The voice called you as you were chest-deep in a pile of fuel-cells. Grunting, you wrenched yourself free, patting the reactor dust from your uniform. Certainly there was some in your hair, too. 

“Hey, hi Tonis, what’s up?” You tried to restrain your anxiety to the perimeter of your mind. “Can, uh, can I help you?”

Tonis, your third engineer, sighed, wrangling his hands together as he looked to the ground. “Do you know what’s going on with this transport unit arriving?” His thin lips twisted in a frown. “They’re saying that they might be shutting the post down.”

“Oh, jeez.” You shook your head, grabbing a rag from the terminal and wiping your hands. “No, no. Nothing like that. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said. “Good. I really, really, really don’t want to be moved. Again.”

Grimacing, you looked at your reflection in the terminal facade. “I know.”

“Orinda’s really great,” he said. “All the different ships we get to work on. And it’s so quiet. And our team is so great--”

“I know.” You mussed your hair, as if shoving dirty fingers through it would improve its appearance. Incredibly, it did not. “They’re only sending three people. I’m sure it can’t be that big of a deal.”

“But that’s the thing!” he said. “Don’t you think that a transport unit with only a few passengers must be here for something super-official?”

Your chest seized, and you cleared your throat, turning back to him. 

“Maybe.” You ignored the hot burn of your cheeks. “Guess we’ll see when they get here.” 

The terminal blipped, a familiar pattern that indicated the atmosphere had been breached. It’d been awhile since you’d felt like you had the power to summon anything of importance with a single thought. The reminder tweaked your heart. 

“Or… I guess we’ll see now.”

Tonis squealed, running through the post. “Hey! Hey guys! The First Order’s here! The First Order’s arrived!”

Sighing, you looked into the terminal again. Four months hadn’t changed your appearance too much. Not that it mattered. Or it might. But you wouldn’t worry about it. Only a little.

You steeled your nerves and walked out of the hangar into the dusty outcropping of the fuel outpost. Flat land stretched for miles in diameter from your station, a rolling pitch of blue mountains in the far distance, the wind whipping across the plains, rustling the dry grass. Shielding your eyes with a hand, you gazed up and spotted the transporter, a blooming black spot in the cloudless sky, quickening the pace of your pulse with every passing second.

It was just a transporter. He wouldn’t be on it. There was nothing to freak out about.

Tonis had gathered the rest of your massive crew--all three of them, him included--and they surrounded you, faces taut with anticipation.

“What do you think it is, Chief?” That was Mirna, your second engineer, a short, wide-set thing, with buzzed hair and a gruff voice. “You think they’re shutting the place down?”

“She already said she doesn’t think it’s that,” Tonis replied.

“Well, yeah, but then, why are they just sending three people?” said Lin, your mechanic. 

“There’s plenty of reasons they could send three people,” Tonis said, as if he hadn’t just been agonizing over that very issue just minutes ago.

Mirna snorted. “Like what?”

��An announcement,” Lin said. “Maybe they’re canvassing all First Order planets.”

You nodded, chewing your cheek. “Sure. That could be it.”

“Or maybe it’s a survey!” Tonis was almost wiggling with excitement like the little nerd he was. “Does anyone else love filling out those weird surveys?”

“No, nerfherder,” Mirna teased, grinning. “Just you.”

“Could be an escort.” Lin shrugged. “Maybe they’re here to pick someone up.”

Mirna laughed. “Oh, come on,” she said. “Who in the stars could they have an interest in on this planet?”

Blood blazed your face. “It’s a mystery.”

You hadn’t told anyone since arriving what had brought you there or why you’d come. You hadn’t told them when you’d first landed that you still had the cum of the Commander of the First Order leaking out of your cunt. You hadn’t told them that just hours before, he’d held you in his arms, brought you into his mind, and shown you--with a breathless, crushing tangibility--how utterly and completely he loved you.

You hadn’t told them, either, that in the days, weeks, months following your arrival, you hadn’t heard from him at all. 

With a dying wail, the transporter hovered and landed, spitting up a ring of dust that smacked you in the face. You sputtered, wiping your eyes, the rest of your crew apparently victims too. Frowning, you crossed your arms, brow cocked as the ramp whined and descended. Something akin to fear needled your heart in the empty space between the sound of footsteps and the emergence of two Stormtroopers stomping to the ground. 

Something that was definitely fear gripped it as those two troopers were followed by a man you’d hoped to never, ever see again.

“Engineer.” General Hux had somehow lost none of his smarmy, pink-cheeked smugness--his refusal to say your name was out of petty spite at this point. And his face was just as punchable as you remembered. “I see you are, for once, prepared for our arrival.”

“What sort of facility chief would I be if I didn’t stay on top of our arrival queues?” You hid your hands behind your back to hide their quaking. “Though I believe my rank is Lieutenant, now, sir.”

“Lieutenant,” he replied, with the same amount of disdain he’d probably afford a crying child. “I imagine it’s the lack of distraction.” He smirked. “I loathe to think of the productivity you would’ve had on the Finalizer with a similar environment.”

“Oh, as do I, sir.” You offered him a gleaming smile. “I can’t imagine a punishment worse than being in your good graces.”

“Chief,” hissed Mirna. “That’s a General of the First Order. What are you doing?”

Cursing internally, you pinched yourself, stood straighter. Your team would have no idea why you felt so comfortable mouthing off to a man who, otherwise, might’ve had you thrust into the bowels of space by now--and to be honest, you didn’t have much of an idea why at this point, either. Your presumed protection was hardly a current presence in your life. 

You shook your head, wagged out your hands. “Let me try again, sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “General Hux, sir. To what do I owe the honor?”

Hux smirked. “As much as I hate to interrupt, Lieutenant,” he said, continuing to let the word drip with more venom than a snake ever could, “I’m here to order you to come with me onto the Steadfast.”

“The Steadfast?” Obviously the name of a ship, but not one you were familiar with. No news bulletins had made their way to Orinda in the time you’d been stationed. “Why?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter has ceased functioning. Every engineer we’ve brought to it has failed to diagnose the issue.” His jaw tensed in real, actual reluctance. “We were at the border of the Rim, and unfortunately, I thought of you.”

You blinked. He wanted you to work on Snoke’s TIE fighter? 

And then another question: Snoke had a TIE fighter? 

“Uh…” Frowning, you glanced around at your crew. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them for days on end. “How long will I be gone?”

His face betrayed nothing but pure disgust. “As long as it takes you to fix a TIE fighter.” He watched as you paused in thought. “I wasn’t offering you a choice, Lieutenant. We’re leaving now.”

With that, he turned on his heels, marching up the ramp. A long, slow breath left your lungs, and you turned to your team, scanning their faces for any reaction. To your surprise, everyone but Tonis seemed rapt in excitement, eyes wide and chins wagging in awe. 

“I had no idea you were such a big shot!” Lin grinned. The other two nodded in agreement.

Blushing, you rubbed your arm in embarrassment, looking between them. “No, no,” you said. “Nothing like that.”

“You have to tell us the story, one day.” Mirna was smirking.

“Uh… Right.” You coughed. “So, hopefully I’ll only be a day or so, max,” you said. “Mirna, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

“You got it, Chief,” she said. “Tonis, my first order is for you to please calm down.”

He shot her a glare. “Good luck, Chief!” He offered you a salute, which was both strange and unnecessary. “We’ll be thinking of you!”

Warmth spread in your chest. “I’ll be thinking of you guys, too. Don’t make too big of a mess, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” they replied in unison--and then broke into laughter. 

You shook your head, finding yourself laughing with them. “Okay. See you guys soon.” 

Bowing your head, you trudged up the ramp into the transporter, taking a seat far away from Hux and the two Stormtroopers. You wondered why he’d bothered to bring them to a tiny outpost like Orinda, but you supposed that self-importance and paranoia knew no bounds in the higher ranks of the First Order. 

As the door closed to the transporter, your heart wrinkled. In the past few months, despite your open ache, Orinda had become your home, your crew had become something akin to your family. You hoped the issue with the TIE fighter was something stupid, like a busted hyperdrive. They were simple to repair, but most engineers wouldn’t mess with lightspeed travel--the mechanisms were so delicate that even a simple mistake could result in splitting the ship. 

The transporter rose into the air, and in seconds, it burst into the sky. A windowless cargo meant you could only imagine the faces of your crew as you disappeared into the horizon. You sighed, watching your feet as they jostled with the jerking of the ship. You weren’t sure what the Steadfast was like, but apparently Snoke had moved his operations there. Though you still had no clue what Snoke looked like, you’d never imagined him to be the type to fly--but perhaps a Supreme Leader required multiple skillsets.

The awkward ride finished without a single word being exchanged between you and Hux, which was fine by you, and possibly finer by him. When the ramp lowered, he speared you with his gaze, waiting for the troopers to exit before standing and ordering you to follow him with only his eyes.

You tromped down the ramp into the hangar on the Steadfast--it looked almost identical to the one on the Finalizer. The ceilings stretched high, like a giant’s mouth, the magnetic shields glowing teeth at the lips of the bay. Ships buzzed above you, racing in and out of their docks, the floor crowded with soldiers and officers alike. 

The rush hit you--sure, the time on Orinda had been fantastic, engaging, rejuvenating. But it would never match the thrill of working in the presence of fleets and fleets of warships, surrounded by the heady spell of urgent, prestigious labor. You sucked it through your nose, held it in your chest, unable to stop your eyes from lingering on every busted ship they saw. In the distance, a team huddled around the smoking wing of a TIE fighter--you bit your lip to prevent yourself from racing over, from tearing it apart for them.

Another thing you weren’t able to stop looking for was any hint, any presence of the Commander--but in the bay, you didn’t even catch evidence of the Command Shuttle. It was a huge assumption to guess he’d be on the Steadfast to begin with, but part of you hoped he’d trailed his precious Supreme Leader to any place he was ordered. It figured that the one time you might have been within thinking distance, he’d managed to make himself scarce. 

Another twine in your heart snapped, joining the collection that’d been unfurling since you’d departed the Finalizer. 

Yes, he’d said he would find you. You still believed him now, even. 

But really. What was taking him so damn long?

Hux led you to a wide dock toward the very front of the hangar. The crews you spotted along the way seemed detached, working without words, communicating with gestures and mirthless expressions. Tonis’ silly salute would never happen here. You frowned. The lack of thrill was worth your autonomy.

“Lieutenant.”

A snap of your head, and you blinked. You were in front of your charge. 

This TIE fighter was unlike one you’d ever seen. Instead of the flat panel wings, this one bore talons, sharp knives capable of cutting space and possibly any ship in its way. Red-paned transparisteel formed the cockpit into a muzzle, imitating an animal instead of a sphere. And it wasn’t a ball suspended on plates, but was rather tucked tight into the body of the ship, creating a seamless, dynamic transition that to you, seemed so new, so modern. It was almost--sexy? 

You looked to Hux. “Are you sure this is the one that isn’t working?” Lips parted in awe, you stepped up to it, placing a hand on the solar array. “It’s gorgeous.”

“The Supreme Leader has been unable to fly it for cycles, now,” said Hux. “I’m sure.”

“All right.” You rolled your eyes. “Got it.” 

What you needed was a post-flight report. You strode over to the nearest terminal and entered your credentials--thankfully, as a Lieutenant now, they were universal to the entire First Order system. Only one ship was logged underneath the access: TIE/vn space superiority fighter: SILENCER.

“TIE silencer?” you mumbled. “Where do they come up with these names?”

You investigated the reports in the past several cycles that detailed the attempts by engineers to get the thing working: thrusters aligned, check. Solar lines flushed, check. Refuel port cleansed, check. Heat calibration reset and replaced, check. 

And yet with each new repair--engine test: fail. 

Engine test: fail. 

Engine test: fail, fail, fail. 

Screwing your lips in thought, you landed on the post-flight report, hoping it would provide you with insight. If he knew what was good for him, Supreme Leader Snoke would be thorough.

You opened the report, and paragraphs of information flooded the screen. Your jaw dropped. Every single system had been left with a meticulously in-depth account of its status before, during, and after flight. The level of specificity contained within each sentence astounded you. It was almost unbelievable that a single person could remember this much, let alone regurgitate it with any level of accuracy. You groaned, lost in Basic.

Hux cleared his throat. “How long do you anticipate this taking, Lieutenant?” 

“As long as I--...” You stopped yourself with a grumble. It would be much easier to hear it from the tauntaun’s mouth, instead of pouring over and cross-checking every single detail. “I’m not sure, General. Is there any way I could speak with the Supreme Leader?” 

A strange, smug look passed over his face. “Certainly,” he replied. “I’ll take you.”

You blinked. That was easy. Almost too easy. “Uh… okay.”

Hux turned on his heel, clipped stride cutting through the hangar. You hadn’t been prepared to meet the Supreme Leader when you woke up this morning, but you supposed anything was possible when working for the First Order. Swallowing, you shut down the terminal, and followed him into the halls.

Returning to a Star Destroyer, in a way, felt like home--the glossy black tile passed like a familiar path beneath your feet, and you spared fleeting glances to the Stormtroopers who passed you. The halls of the Steadfast maintained their similarity to everything else on the Finalizer--though that did nothing to assuage your anxiety about the memories you’d had on that ship. Or who may or may not be on this one. 

“Do you work on the Steadfast, now, sir?” 

Hux was silent for a moment, gaze trained forward. “Yes. The Finalizer was decommissioned.”

“Wait, really?” Your heart thumped. The only datapad message you’d received from your friends had come in the first few weeks after your departure. You just assumed they’d been busy. “What happened?”

“A Resistance attack left it crippled,” he replied. “Leadership and surviving crew were transferred to the Steadfast.”

Terror seized you, your pace quickened. “Sur-surviving crew?” you asked. “Sir?” More silence. You stumbled to catch up with him, fighting the tremor in your voice. “Sir--”

“Engineers Foster and Loren were transferred to this vessel unharmed, Lieutenant.” He leered at you. “Satisfied?”

You heaved a massive sigh, hands falling to your knees. They were here. You’d have to catch up with them, soon. 

“Yes, sir, thank you--” 

By the time you’d finished, he’d already managed to make it what seemed to be fifty paces ahead of you, and you scrambled to keep up with him. 

As you did, a grey-haired man emerged from the corner in front of you both, and Hux stiffened, cursing under his breath. Raising a brow, you tried to meet this man’s gaze, only to bump into the general, who’d stopped, limbs pinned to his sides.

“Shit!” Your face burned, and you jumped back, snapping to attention. “I mean, uh, sorry, General, sir.”

The look Hux offered you was similar to one a parent might offer a simpering child. Right before they murdered that child in a fit of blind rage.

“General Hux,” said the grey-haired man. “Just the one I was looking for.” 

“Allegiant General Pryde.” Hux’s chin jutted to the ceiling. 

The Allegiant General Pryde turned his attention to you, glimpsing your uniform before meeting your eyes. “I’m afraid we’re not acquainted, Lieutenant…”

You gave your name. “Sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “I’m Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“Ah.” His gaze lingered on the fuel cell filth smattering your chest. “Of course.” Something within his eyes categorized you in league with rodents--and something else within them told you he crushed rodents for sport. “Interesting.” His attention whipped back to Hux. “General. Regarding the Council meeting…”

“I plan to present the Supreme Leader with my plan, sir.”

“I know you do,” Pryde replied, “but you failed to run it by me.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. You wished you were anywhere other than this extremely awkward hallway meeting that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

“Forgive me, Allegiant General,” Hux said, “but I didn’t think a basic unit efficiency research required your approval.”

“Everything requires my approval, General,” he said. “Lest we forget the errors of Starkiller Base.”

That was a low blow. You gulped. They both looked at you, and you cleared your throat again, throwing your hands behind your back. The energy radiating from Hux could be classified as skin-scorching. 

“Of course.” Hux’s tone grew tighter with each word that left his lips. “I’ll remember that next time, sir.”

“Good.” Pryde glanced between you. “What brings a facility chief from her station all the way to the Steadfast?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter, sir,” Hux replied, still staring into the air. “She may be the only engineer capable of repairing it.”

The Allegiant General frowned. “Really. How many resources did you expend picking up a single person from a remote outpost?” he asked. “Do you not consider this to be something I should know?”

“It was a brief excursion,” he said. “I took two Stormtroopers and a single transport unit.”

“Was that unit’s excursion approved?” He circled Hux, a silvered predator, sizing up his prey. For once, you almost felt bad for the ginger bastard. “What if Resistance staged an attack while you were gone? If we needed that unit for more than a handful of bodies?”

Hux’s lips pursed, chin dimpling with tension. “I don’t know, sir.”

“And how do you think the Supreme Leader will feel knowing you acted without approval, all to retrieve a single engineer?”

Silence drifted like fog over the three of you, thickening as this grey-haired power-laden dickhead glared at General Hux. But Hux’s back had aligned, parallel to the wall, every flicker of frustration fled from his frame. The tiniest hint of a smirk curled at his mouth.

“I think he’ll be just fine with it. Sir.” Hux’s brow quirked. “We’re on our way to speak with him now, if you’d like to accompany.”

Pryde grinned, a serpent’s twist to his smile. “Your confidence has failed you in the past, General,” he replied. “Lead the way.”

You trailed behind the Allegiant General and Hux, fingers starting to quake. Now, you’d not only be meeting the Supreme Leader still smothered in space dust, you’d be meeting him accompanied by the two biggest assholes in the First Order--second only to one other, perhaps. 

Unfortunately, that particular asshole was a ghost to this ship, and there wasn’t anyone in particular you felt comfortable asking about him. If Hux had been superceded by this new jerk, the last thing you wanted was another opportunity for someone with rank greater than your own to question you about your personal relationships. 

Dread pooled in your belly. Supreme Leader Snoke did know about your personal relationship with the Commander. In fact, Snoke had been the one to insist you be his conduit, among other insulting things. You imagined him bringing it up: Ah, yes, the engineer, the distraction… and how have you been, without his cock inside of you?

You shook your head. No, it didn’t make sense for him to bring up his apprentice’s dick at your first meeting. Or any meeting, for that matter. You hoped.

The two men led you through the rest of the journey in silence, animosity prickling like durasteel barbs in the air between them. At least your own team didn’t regard you with vibrodaggers behind their backs--as far as you knew, anyway--and the realization, against the backdrop of your current situation, had you aching to leave. The discussion with the Supreme Leader would be swift and succinct; you’d get the information you needed, diagnose the problem, and be on your way back to Orinda. 

In front of you, a massive turbolift sang its arrival, blast door whirring open. You followed the two men inside, heart tingling. Maybe part of you had been hoping that your long-awaited reunion would have occurred during your time aboard--as you thought it, you tried to stymie the resentment that you’d waited this long at all. The rational part of your mind reasoned that he was a busy man, that lack of contact didn’t indicate lack of thought. 

But every other part of your mind was staving off bubbling despair. Four months had felt like four years, and you’d only grown more desperate, more anxious for his embrace--then furious that he didn’t appear to return the sentiment. 

You knew how he felt. So it didn’t make sense, then, why he hadn’t acted on it for even a single, solitary night in the past sixteen weeks.  

When the blast door opened, you crossed the threshold into an obsidian sanctuary. The floor gleamed, a black lake of glass sweeping into high ebony ceilings that twinkled with artificial stars. The only other illumination came from two enormous spheres that hung, suspended in air at opposite ends of the room, their surfaces a swirl of white-grey light, imitation suns with colorless coronas. At the far end of the room was a hovering stone throne, six dark figures crowding it in a crescent. 

Your heart stammered--you’d seen them before. In memories that hadn’t belonged to you. All of them were outfitted in clothing that seemed familiar, helmets that hid their identities, and each of them possessed a weapon meant explicitly for assassination. The only conclusion you could draw was that they were the Supreme Leader’s bodyguards. 

Whoever they were, to you, they were ominous.

The two men in front of you strode forward, and you followed, catching your reflection whispering by your shoes: your hair was mussed with evidence of engine exhaust, your uniform still glowing with smears of ionization. Internally, you cursed yourself. Yeah, this was exactly how you’d wanted to look when meeting the Supreme Leader of the First Order--like complete shit. Stomach sinking, you sidled behind them as they stood at attention. 

“Supreme Leader,” they said simultaneously.

As if on command, the wall of shadowed soldiers parted to reveal the throne. 

But no one was there.

You blinked. “Oh.” 

Hux’s head swiveled between the strangers in front of you. “Where is he?” He turned to Pryde. “These are his receiving hours--”

“Yes,” replied the Allegiant Asshole. “But perhaps he’s departed early for the Supreme Council meeting. We’d be better off--”

The turbolift doors wailed behind you, and like synchronized chronometers, you, Hux, and Pryde spun to meet the new arrival. 

Your brain went blank.

Kylo Ren crossed the shimmering sable floor in a confident stride, his robes replaced now with padded armor that clung to the contours of his powerful, thick chest, his broad shoulders covered with a hooded cape. His fists, still bound in leather, flexed at his sides--and his face... 

More beautiful, more arresting than you could have conjured in any memory, his lips still pink and plush, his nose still a long line, his hair still rolling in waves, like black silk-velvet at his shoulders. You met his eyes as he advanced, finding them guarded, resurrecting every fear and insecurity, tempering them with hidden warmth. 

“Generals.”

The voice was lightning through your limbs, its owner a perfect match to the soft baritone you’d replayed in your dreams for the past one hundred and fifty two days. All of your systems leapt to life at once: brain spinning, heart soaring, adrenaline coursing. Sweat soaked your neck, your figure thrust whole into a furnace.

“Sir!” Both bowed their heads.

Gazing at him, then, you realized what was happening. This was his throne. You were working on his TIE fighter. Kylo Ren, your lover, your obsession, your galaxy was now the de-facto leader of the actual galaxy. You weren’t in love with the First Order’s Commander, anymore. 

You were in love with its Supreme Leader. 

Shock anchored your mouth open. Your eyes welled with latent tears. You grinned in disbelief.

“Dude!” You laughed. “What the fuck!”

[niteshade925]

The Thunder Concluding Thoughts

So I finished watching The Thunder (《破冰行动》) in about a week.  I have to say this drama is definitely NOT the disappointment that people say it is.  It's pretty good.  I’m recommending it to the cdrama fans out there who like crime dramas with a dark and serious story.  Just be aware that it does not have an official English subtitle or fansubs (so far as I know).

Anyway, this post will be very very very long (4500+ words, in fact), filled with spoilers and my opinions.  If you are planning on watching, please skip this post.  I’m hiding everything else so this post won’t be hogging space on anyone’s dashboard.

Storytelling

Considering the story is about an operation to raid a whole village involved in drug trafficking (inspired by real events of Boshe village/博社村) and bring the criminals to justice, it is bound to be dark and gritty, filled with tragedies.  But it’s also surprisingly not very gruesome.

The entire plot is separated into many different storylines, which merge and intersect with each other at different times throughout the drama.  Here’s the main four:

The first (main) one follows the main character Li Fei/李飞 as he tries to avenge his friend and partner’s murder by finding evidence to bring down the big bad, with help from Chen Ke/陈珂, Ma Wen/马雯, and numerous others.

The second one follows Li Weimin/李维民 and Zhao Jialiang/赵嘉良 (real name Li Jianzhong/李建中), who are the two most experienced people on the law enforcement side in dealing with drug traffickers.  Since the former is a director and the latter is an informant/undercover agent who reports directly to the former, their individual story lines only merged after the midpoint.

The third one follows the third branch of the Lin clan (mostly Lin Zonghui/林宗辉) and how it was half destroyed by the main branch and second branch, which culminates in Lin Zonghui’s decision to turn informant.

The fourth one follows Ma Yunbo/马云波, the Deputy Director of Dongshan City Police Department, as he slowly realizes the error of his ways and tries to earn his redemption.  

There are other more minor storylines, but I won’t be listing them all out since this isn’t a wiki article lol.  Anyway there are a lot of different storylines in this drama, and the ways in which they intersect are interesting, though rather predictable.  These intersections also roughly separate out the drama into a few sections, which allows the drama to have a good pacing overall.

However, the way this drama establishes the backgrounds of the characters and storylines is slightly problematic, since nearly all of it is done with flashback sequences.  Flashback sequences are a staple in crime dramas of any kind, because it satisfies the viewers’ curiosity, but the constant sudden scene changes were disorienting and broke the flow of storytelling.  I guess flashbacks are an easy way to stick to the “show, don’t tell” rule, but I do think some flashback sequences can be told by characters in the “present time”, and this may even help to flesh out those characters more, depending on how they “tell” viewers about the past.

Another thing that was noticeable was amount of closeup shots used, especially in the interrogation scenes in the first half.  They do give actors the opportunity to use micro expressions and their eyes to convey the characters’ true emotions.  On the downside.....too many closeup shots tend to make me uncomfortable, so......I guess I both liked it and disliked it.

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Characters and Acting

Hoooo boy, where to start.  I would say this is the best thing about the drama overall.  The characters are what really drove me to sacrifice sleep just to binge the entire thing in a week.  These characters aren’t exactly unique in the genre, but they made up the heart of the drama, no questions about that.

I guess I’ll start with the main cast here and ramble talk about both the character and the portrayal together.  Because this drama had a rough “cops vs. criminals” setup, the main cast was sort of “locked in” to specific character archetypes, and that left little space for the actors themselves to perform freely.  Despite this, most of the main cast were able to do pretty well:

Li Weimin/李维民 (portrayed by Wu Gang/吴刚):  

In my opinion, Li Weimin was the best portrayed character out of the main cast.  Some people said that Wu Gang overacted in certain scenes where Li Weimin got upset or displayed his eccentric side, but to be honest, I don’t think it’s bad at all.  I'm pretty sure the dramatic approach is due to Wu Gang's acting style and training, since he was a theater actor first, and transitioned to an actor for TV/cinema later in his career.  Wu Gang’s constant little physical movements-- whether it was fidgeting with something or playing hopscotch with his feet--gave Li Weimin a certain air of eccentricity that I liked.  Li Weimin wasn’t without his faults, of course, he’s rather quick-tempered and was too eager to see results, which Wu Gang illustrated with his dramatic line delivery in the scene where he was furious at Ma Yunbo for not ending all drug trafficking in Dongshan city in 3 years.  The most noticeable flaws in Wu Gang’s performance (to me) was his salute (seriously can he just straighten that wrist lol) and his voice, because his voice had that smooth quality of a documentary narration, so occasionally it felt like he’s just flat out describing things.  Not that I’m complaining, his voice is very pleasing to the ear, but it just doesn’t fit the scene sometimes.  His best scenes for me were: 1) when he stubbornly refused Li Fei’s offer to buy a hoodie for him because it made him look too young (can relate because I have an older relative who’s exactly like that lol); 2) when he was questioning Cai Yongqiang while nonchalantly playing with his shoelaces; 3) when he had a sorrowful inner monologue about how he would be all alone if both Li Fei and Li Jianzhong died like all of his other comrades; and 4) when he suffered the loss of his friend during the climax, and had to try hard to stop himself from losing control to grief before the operation was over, because he was the frontline commander and was thus responsible for all of the agents.

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Lin Yaodong/林耀东 (portrayed by Wang Jinsong/王劲松):  

Wang Jinsong never disappointed in any role he’s been in, really.  He’s the actor who played Marquis Yan Que in Nirvana in Fire and the unforgettable eunuch Yang Jinshui in Ming Dynasty in 1566.  I don’t think Lin Yaodong was his best performance (the best had to be Yang Jinshui in Ming Dynasty in 1566, hands down) but it was still very good.  The way Wang Jinsong played Lin Yaodong (especially the even line delivery and the deliberate body movements) gave him a dignified air befitting a powerful elder.   It was also thanks to Wang Jinsong’s great performance that I realized what Lin Yaodong was:  he wasn’t just a drug lord, he was a hypocrite.  He kept stressing the importance of clan and family, yet he was the one of the people responsible for deaths of half the third branch family; he kept reiterating that he brought wealth to Tazhai village, but what he did was slowly eroding the villagers’ motivation to do any honest work; he kept emphasizing the need to protect the Lin clan, yet the drug trafficking he introduced to the village literally ruined the young people of the village.  To Lin Yaodong, the clan was nothing but a means to an end that benefits him, otherwise he would not be exclusively using members of the second branch family to do all the dirty work.

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Li Fei/李飞 (portrayed by Huang Jingyu/黄景瑜):  

Li Fei is apparently quite controversial despite being the undisputed main character of the show.  A lot of people think his character was “unnecessary”, “badly written”, and there were even gossip floating around about how the character was just a way to “get Huang Jingyu onboard”.  Seeing all of those comments made me pretty confused, because I thought Huang Jingyu did a pretty good job for someone who didn’t have a lot of experience in acting.  Before anyone says though, I am not a Huang Jingyu fan, just want to get that out of the way first.  This is literally the first drama I’ve seen him in.  I think his portrayal was easier for younger audiences (by that I mean early to mid 20s viewers like me) to relate to.  Li Fei’s outpour of grief upon seeing his partner getting murdered right in front of him, his clever interrogation of drug dealers, his goofy little tricks that outsmarted the criminals, his dejected disregard for his own life when he expressed desire to go to Tazhai village alone; his shock and anguished headbanging on the car window upon seeing his father getting murdered (also right in front of him); and finally his emotional numbness while saying goodbye to the father he never got a chance to know.......all of it was done convincingly.  I’ve laughed with him, I’ve cried (a little) with him, and for me that’s good enough.  There were other comments about how Li Fei was too hot-headed to the extent of being frustrating, but I think that’s just how the character was meant to be (Li Fei was supposed to be in his early 20s).  That said, I do think Huang Jingyu needs work on two things:  enunciation and facial expressions.  He did well when a scene required him to convey a particular emotion, but he wasn’t able to convey a mixture of different emotions (I will give an example later).  If he could make improvements in these two areas, I’m sure he would become a much better actor.

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Now for memorable supporting characters.  In my honest opinion, the supporting characters are the ones who really made this drama good.  These actors’ performances regularly steal the limelight away from the main cast.

Lin Shuibo/林水伯 (portrayed by Qian Bo/钱波):  

Lin Shuibo was a once-respected teacher who became addicted in a desperate attempt to save his addict son, and was thrown out of Tazhai village for being an addict after his son died from overdose (was revealed to be murder).  Later he devoted his life to take care of a homeless drug addict teen he met on the streets.  I have to say, Lin Shuibo was the first supporting character that really caught my attention and made me cry.  Qian Bo nailed this character.  The dejected slump of his shoulders, the hopelessness and anxiety in his darting eyes, weeping for his son with tears leaving tracks on his dirty face, explaining that he tried drugs so he could set an example of successful rehab for his son......this character may not be more than just a plot device, but he actually tore at my heart.  Teaching was a highly respected profession in China, so for a teacher to fall into addiction and homelessness, resort to picking garbage for a living, that’s literally falling out of paradise and straight into hell.  Despite this, Lin Shuibo never lost his kindness or capability to love, and that's what saved him in the end.

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Ma Yunbo/马云波 (portrayed by Zhang Xilin/张晞临):  

Originally I was going to put Lin Shengwu as the second of the memorable supporting characters, but then Ma Yunbo’s best scenes happened and made me change my mind.  Ma Yunbo was a pretty interesting and complex character, since he started the drama as a “good guy”, but as the story went on, it was revealed that he was the corrupted cop.  Then as the viewer learned more about the character, we started to see that he was not simply in it for the money like Chen Guangrong (another corrupted cop).  He was more or less coerced into it by Lin Yaodong because of his wife’s debilitating chronic pain, which was in turn the consequence of taking a shotgun blast meant for him.  Before the start of the story, the pain had grown too much for his wife to bear, so she turned to heroin for relief, and Lin Yaodong took the opportunity to become her supplier.  This was a major problem for Ma Yunbo, since he was seen as a hero who served justice to drug traffickers and was the pride of his shifu Li Weimin.  Here, both the drama and many viewers say that Ma Yunbo’s greatest weakness was pride, and that was why he became corrupted, but I disagree.   I don’t think Ma Yunbo’s most important trait was pride, I think it was love. I think he loved his wife deeply and that was the only reason why he started dealing with Lin Yaodong.  If he was as prideful as people say, I think he might refuse his wife's request instead.  In fact, his wife's suicide was what finally unshackled him from his constant internal conflict.  Thus, his internal conflict was really a three way conflict of pride vs. love vs. doing what’s right.  Zhang Xilin’s approach to such a complex character was subtle, conveying most of the internal conflict with facial expressions.  The way he could seem to make his face age instantly with an expression was brilliant.  

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Lin Shengwu/林胜武 (portrayed by Zhao Xuan/赵煊):  

First, this character was pretty much a plot device.  Lin Shengwu really only served 3 purposes in the story:  to delay the video evidence from getting to Li Fei until the time is right (to manage pacing); to cement the people from the main branch and second branch of the Lin clan as the big bads of the drama; and to serve as a reason for Lin Zonghui’s eventual decision to become an informant.  The first one is pretty straightforward, but the second and third purposes require acting skills to achieve, because the audience needs to be able to pity Lin Shengwu.  And boy did Zhao Xuan deliver.  Lin Shengwu’s death was the second time I got emotional while watching this drama (first time was that scene of Lin Shuibo I mentioned).  The scene where a wounded Lin Shengwu called asking Lin Zonghui to take care of his children and telling him “if there’s a next life, you will still be my Uncle Hui” with a quivering voice just straight up broke my heart.  Lin Shengwu was certainly not a good guy (he was the one who destroyed the evidence at the very beginning, and probably participated in drug dealing), but he really did love his family and tried to protect them, unlike Lin Yaodong.  Unfortunately, his family was already in the grips of the devil from the very start, so he was destined to lose everything.

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Lin Zonghui/林宗辉 (portrayed by Gong Lei/公磊)

Of the two most conflicted characters in the drama, one is Ma Yunbo, and the other is definitely Lin Zonghui.  As the family head of the third branch in the Lin clan, he was forced to watch as members of his family died at the hands of his relatives, but because he tried to stay out of trouble, he could neither say nor do anything about it.  Plus, like most other members of the third branch family, he was a person who actually cared about the clan.  As time went on and more people close to him died, his internal conflict changed from self preservation vs. avenging his family to protecting the Lin clan vs. doing what’s right.  I don’t feel that his death at the end was really necessary to the plot (it was probably done to further expose Lin Yaodong’s hypocrisy), but given everything his cousins Lin Yaodong and Lin Yaohua have done, he’s more than justified to confront them.  Acting-wise, like Zhang Xilin, Gong Lei also conveyed Lin Zonghui’s internal conflict mostly with facial expressions and body movements.  There was always a slump in his shoulders, and the way his eyes alternate between looking powerless and burning with fury was really great.  However, I didn’t quite like his approach to the climactic confrontation scenes, because I felt that he was a little overdramatic there, especially the line delivery, which briefly broke my immersion.

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Lin Can/林灿 (portrayed by Song Hanhuan/宋撼寰)

If I’m only talking about the acting, then I might rank Song Hanhuan’s performance as the second best in the supporting cast, right behind Zhang Xilin.  I do admit that I’m rather biased towards the good guys and complex characters, but no matter which way you cut it, Lin Can deserves a mention.  The first time I noticed him was very late in the story, right at the climax where Lin Can and Li Fei were both threatening to kill the other’s father.  Huang Jingyu was not able to convey Li Fei’s emotions well enough (again, his facial expression needs work), but in contrast, Song Hanhuan really conveyed a wide range of emotions just in a few seconds, from fear to desperation to even a little hint of regret.  In fact, he looked as if he was on the verge of total mental breakdown.  That scene prompted me to go back and revisit his other scenes after I finished the drama, and that was when I realized Lin Can actually cried a little bit when Lin Shengwu died.  At the time when I first saw the scene, I thought Lin Can was just shocked to see Lin Shengwu commit suicide, but now, thinking back on Lin Can’s lines about how he and Lin Shengwu grew up together as playmates, I think Lin Can actually felt sad there, however briefly that emotion lasted.  That single tear was a very simple (and easy to miss!) gesture that added a whole other dimension to what would otherwise be a rather flat henchman character.  

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Cai Yongqiang/蔡永强 (portrayed by Tang Xu/唐旭)

I do wish the writers could have given Cai Yongqiang more scenes, because the few scenes he appeared in were all great.  The scenes where Li Weimin questioned Cai Yongqiang were the among the best in the entire drama.  At the time in the story, Cai Yongqiang and Li Weimin didn’t trust each other (although it was later revealed that they were both good guys), and were both trying to see if the other person was corrupted.  This led to a few interesting exchanges between them filled with quotable lines, but the best part has to be Cai Yongqiang’s answer to Li Weimin’s last question about Cai Yongqiang’s evaluation of himself and the drug control division.   The way Tang Xu delivered these lines (his voice was quivering with emotion almost the whole time) was really touching:

“For drug control officers like us, there’s two dangers.  The first is mortal danger, because our opponents are people who would bid their lives for money.  It’s not just our own lives in danger, but also the lives of our partners, our families”......”The second is temptation.  Money making is easy for drug traffickers.  To save their own skins, they would try their damnedest to bribe us.  Tens of thousands (yuan), hundreds of thousands, even a few million at a time.  For them, a few million is the profit they earn in a few days, but for young officers who earn a measly 2-3k per month and has to pay mortgages and raise children with it, this contrast is too much.  Not being tempted is impossible.  But every officer in my division has overcame the temptation, and for that, I think they are all terrific.  All of them are admirable.”.....”When you’ve been on the force for a while, you start to develop a deeper understanding of human nature.  A lot of bizarre things happen every day.  Sometimes, not being able to see them is a real blessing.”

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Thoughts on Theme

The message of a story like this is obviously “drugs are bad, kids, it ain’t worth it”, but I would say the theme is conveyed pretty well here, because the story gives us all of these characters who are examples (some of which I’m sure are inspired by experiences of real people) of what may happen once you start to do/sell/make such addictive controlled/prohibited substances as crystal meth.

First is the effects of addiction on users.  This part is pretty obvious, and we have many examples throughout, though there were a few different reasons for each of them coming into contact with the drug in the first place.  Zaizai (Lin Shuibo’s son) was a representation of teenagers who became addicted because it’s seen as “cool” and “everyone was doing it”.  Wuzai became a drug dealer, because it gave him better profits than working entry-level jobs, and eventually he became an addict as well.  Then there’s women who became addicted due to severe emotional stress, like Yang Liu and Cai Xiaoling (it was hinted that her addiction may have been a major factor in her miscarriage).  Of these people, Lin Shuibo was a special case, as he apparently tried drugs out of a desire to help his son quit, but became addicted as well.  Out of these characters, most died either due to overdose, continued drug-abuse, or murder (from being in close contact with dangerous criminals).  The only two who got a good ending were Lin Shuibo and Wuzai, since both were able to quit and earn an honest living.  Of course, this could not happen if they weren’t supporting each other through the rehab process.

Second is another type of effect that the drugs had on those who made/sold them, and that is greed.  The reason Lin Yaodong had so much power over everyone else in the village was because he could give them the money they desired.  According to Lin Yaodong, the village used to be dirt poor, but ever since he led the villagers to manufacture crystal meth, everyone there quickly became wealthy, and all that easy money gave rise to greed.  Lin Yaodong then used a combination of his own status in the clan and the greed of the villagers to control them, thus satisfying his own lust for power:

“I know whether the people of Tazhai have had a change of heart just from sitting in this car.  At this hour, adults should be leaving work, and children should be leaving school, all of them going home, even the elderly lady selling produce.  The fact that our car can drive forward so smoothly on this narrow road means the people of Tazhai haven’t had any change of heart.”

This lust for power was also the reason he described his goal as to build the biggest, most beautiful ancestral shrine for the Lin clan.  He saw the ancestral shrine as the seat and symbol of his power, and this was apparent when the three family heads gathered there like a panel of judges at a court to announce Lin Shengwen’s punishment.  

Lin Yaodong’s image as the great provider for the village then began to corrupt the younger generations of the village as well, since they all looked up to Lin Yaodong and hoped to become his henchmen.  This began to destroy the real familial bonds between people in the clan and replaced it with simple trust and blind loyalty, which effectively turned the clan into a sort of mafia.  Even though almost everyone in the main branch and second branch still talked about what’s good for the clan and seemingly tried to contribute in their own ways, when one compared what these characters say versus what they do, then their true motivations began to show.  There’s Lin Yaohua and his two sons, Lin Can and Lin Tianhao, who would maim, torture, and kill members of their own clan just because trust was broken.  For them, there’s not much real familial bond to speak of, there’s only loyalty to “Uncle Dong” (Lin Yaodong) and "Uncle Hua” (Lin Yaohua).  They may still call each other “brothers”, “uncles”, but these words contain more indications of power than affection.  At the same time, the blind loyalty eroded away at the humanity of the younger members of the Lin clan, and this was perfectly demonstrated with Lin Can’s sudden decision to kill Zhao Jialiang at the climax, an act that disturbed even Lin Yaodong.

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My Criticisms &  Other Thoughts

Finally, criticisms.

I agree with other people that the writing for the 3rd and 2nd to last episodes (ep 46 & 47) did not seem to have the same quality of writing as earlier episodes, but I am of the opinion that it wasn’t a huge problem.  What was a problem was the overacting from some actors at the climax.  Again, it wasn’t that bad, but it was enough to briefly break my suspension of disbelief.  Also, the last episode was among the best in the drama.

About the complaint that Zhao Jialiang’s death was unnecessary and forced into the script, I disagree.  I don’t think Zhao Jialiang ever went into Tazhai village expecting to come out alive in the first place.  Dude’s there to avenge his wife and that was it.  On the other hand, his death also highlights how far Lin Can had fallen.  Point is, his death might feel abrupt, but it does make sense if you think about it.  

About the “plot holes”.  I agree with one comment I’ve seen that many of the “plot holes” people pointed out were actually explained in later episodes.  They probably commented pretty early on in the drama, so that’s why certain things seemed like plot holes to them.

As for Chen Ke, again, I do agree that she may be the weakest character in the drama, but unlike some have said, I don’t think it was 100% on the actor, and I’m pretty sure it had something to do with the writing.  This drama clearly aimed to be realistic, so almost all of the characters expressed some sort of shock upon seeing another character get wounded/killed, and I think that’s the reason why Chen Ke panicked when Ma Wen got blasted with a shotgun.  Chen Ke was just a normal civilian who happened to be a nurse, she’s not a nurse in the army or something, of course she would be shocked if the event took place in front of her eyes.  Seeing the aftermath and witnessing the event first hand are completely different things.

Everything else about the drama, cinematography, music, etc....were all ok.  Nothing bad, but also nothing notable.  I did like the theme song though.

(Bonus little rant about all those cdrama scenes where a character is severely ill or wounded or killed..........can we stop having all of them spit out mouthfuls of blood????  When a character got stabbed in the guts or shot through the heart, they should NOT be spitting blood, unless they are also wounded in the lungs or stomach or mouth, then ok fine, but it’s still more of a situation of coughing up blood.  Seriously.  When Zhao Jialiang got shot through the heart and immediately started spitting blood, I actually burst out laughing.  This silly shit needs to change.)

And that is it!  All in all I liked The Thunder, and I may watch it again later.

[yeojaa]

TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why.  Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds.  When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you.  "Yes."  Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic.  Always had been.  It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary.  You use your one brain cell for love.  It doesn’t always end well.

pairing.  who knows, honestly.  the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.  

tags.  blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy.

rating.  general (for now?)

word count.  ~4500

chapter 2.  

Because Taehyung's already gone.

You try not to take it personally when you realize his chair is empty and you can't see that familiar bob of tousled black in the swirling crowd of people.  After all, you were a stranger to him - just someone he'd happened to be paired with for a one-time thing.  He didn't owe you anything, not a thank you or even a goodbye and certainly not a minute more of his time.

It doesn't work well.

When the same assistant from early is handing you garment bags, you can't help but feel a little reluctant to take them.  It's your own clothes, neatly hung and strung across fancy wooden hangers, but it feels wrong.  You know if you take them, you'll need to leave and you're not sure you're ready for that.  Still, you smile, bowing graciously as you accept the bags, draping them over your arm.  

"You can change down the hallway - there are actual dressings room there."

You don't immediately understand what she's saying, blinking owlishly at her from behind your thin gold frames, and she stifles a laugh.  She's so sweet that you don't even bristle, only burning scarlet when she gestures toward your worn sweater and bare legs.  

"Oh!"  Embarrassment flares across your cheeks, licking over your face and down the column of your neck.  "Yes.  Right.  Thank you."  You're bowing once again before turning on your heel and moving in the direction she'd indicated.  You try to keep your steps measured but you want to break into a full sprint. 

Get it together, Jiyeon!

You're all but grumbling under your breath as you weave past the people milling about, carrying chairs and speaking into their headsets without a care in the world.  You nearly stumble into someone - a tall man carrying a boom mic over his shoulder - and spin just in time, narrowly avoiding an accident between your head and said mic.  To your relief, he laughs and steps aside, nodding kindly at you while you mumble an apology.

You push past the heavy entryway with your shoulder and breathe a sigh of relief.  There's no one else in the hallway, only pale oak doors that line each side.  All are ajar, revealing softly lit dressing rooms that sit empty.  You figure you can pop into any of them.

Slipping inside the nearest one, you carefully hang your clothes on the rolling rack and begin to peek through the bags in search of the outfit you'd worn there.  You find it on your third try, unzipping the garment bag all the way to reveal comfortable-looking denim and a roomy long sleeve.  You exhale a breath of relief, eager to get back into something that doesn't make you feel quite so exposed.

The shorts drop followed by your sweater, both neatly folded upon the nearest chair before you're tugging your jeans on.

You get the button through the hole on the first go, adjusting the additional buttons along the side until they're cinched neatly around your waist, elongating the long line of your legs.  You readjust the same closures at your ankles, snapping them to the tightest button.  You leave your socks as is, sliding them back into the high-topped black Converse you'd worn with your first outfit.  You loop the shoelaces around your ankles once, twice, knotting them with an exaggerated bunny loop.

Next comes your shirt, pulled over your head with a jerk of your arms.  The hem is tucked into the tops of your jeans.  You inspect yourself in the mirror, pushing your glasses further up your nose before sliding thin fingers through your dark hair.  It sticks out at odd angles from the way you've been doing outfit changes and you try your best to flatten it, cursing the fact you don't carry a brush with you.

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" 

You're talking to yourself so you don't expect the other voice, muffled by the door.  "Cho Jiyeon?"

You don't mean to scream but you do anyway, nearly toppling the chair behind you.  You immediately regret it when the laughter filters under the door and through wood grain.  Because you recognize the stupid, adorable laugh - you'd just spent the afternoon wrapped up in it. 

"Kim Taehyung?"  You're wrenching open the door like a giddy schoolgirl because suddenly you're elated, ecstatic.  He hadn't left!  If you were in a fairytale, you're sure you'd hear birds singing and the slow swell of background music. 

"I wasn't sure if you'd left already."  

He looks every inch your prince in shining armour or rather, knit Moncler.  You spy the logo just beneath the lapel of his coat - the same camel one he'd worn in the beginning.  One hand is stuffed in the pocket of his trousers, the other curled around the hanger hooks of garment bags hung over his left shoulder.  He looks almost bashful when you look at him, his glasses looped around the collar of his Celine shirt.  

You fight the urge to spill your soul at his feet, biting back the admission that mirrors his.  Instead, you go with an easy smile, as if your heart wasn't about to burst out of your chest.  "Nope.  Still here."

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like too long, neither of you saying anything.  The same dumb smile stretches between you, a silent challenge for the other to continue.

"Do you want to exchange numbers?"  He relents first.

You don't hesitate.  "Yes!"

He fishes his phone from his trouser pocket, all but shoving the device into your hands.  It feels heavy in your palms when you accept it, like it's a piece of priceless treasure and not just a thin black iPhone in a silicon case. 

You must seem reluctant because Taehyung clears his throat, drawing your attention back to him.  He's got that sweet, boxy grin pulling his eyes into narrow crescents.  He's so cute like this.  "It can't read your mind,"  he teases around a mouthful of laughter and you're blushing once again, all your nerves lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I know that!"  You hiss, the sound pouty and shy.  He snickers again and stares at you expectantly.  

You have half the mind to shove the phone back at him but you know you won't do that.  Not when you want this just as much as he seems to.  You bring yourself to his contacts, adding your name and phone number without a single typo, you note proudly.  A selca is snapped, much to his amusement, and you set the somewhat blurry photo as your contact photo before handing his phone back to him.

"Don't forget to use it,"  you say, very seriously.  

"I won't,"  he promises.  You believe him because you want to and because he says it so simply, as if he has no other option.  Then he's backing away, nodding politely.  "I'll see you soon."

"Okay."  You wave before he turns, heading back the way you'd came.  You don't miss the way he looks back once, his own fingers wiggling sweetly as he disappears through the double doors.  When he's gone, you can't help but squeal, dropping into the plush armchair, legs kicking in the air like some sixth-grader that's just had her first kiss.

You were going to see him again!

They're waiting for him at the restaurant when he walks in, the table already littered with banchan and half-empty soju bottles.  All four men chorus their hello's as Taehyung slides into the booth, grateful when Jimin presses himself closer to the wall to allow more space, peeling his jacket off in one fluid motion. 

"Where are Yoongi-hyung and Hobi-hyung?"  He asks around a mouthful of mixed rice and kimchi.  He'd forgotten to eat lunch before heading to the studio so he was famished now, his stomach flipping at the first taste of something solid and delicious.  "Is it just us tonight?"

A head of off-lilac bobs up and down as Namjoon nods, carefully finishing his bite before speaking.  "Yoongi's at the studio and Hobi's teaching a class.  Or with that new girl he's seeing."  He shrugs, as if he's not entirely sure.  "Maybe both?  I don't know what their deal is."

They were all close - had been since they'd found each other in high school - but they didn't keep tabs on each other's lives.  Not that closely, at least. 

Silence settles over their group as they grill assorted meats, the youngest diligently turning strips of samgyupsal and jostling bulgogi when it looks like it's getting a bit charred.  He does it for the good of the table and not out of the kindness of his heart - because otherwise Kim Namjoon would be burning the whole place down.  

"How'd it go, hyung?"  Jungkook asks once he's satisfied with the browning, sharp scissors gliding easily through the rendered fat and crisp meat.  "Was she cute?"

He'd been with Taehyung when the latter had been approached on the street.  He'd also been the one to convince the uncertain brunet, rattling off all the reasons it would be cool.  After all, it wasn't every day you were asked to go on a blind date that was going to be filmed.  What was there to lose, anyway?

"She was pretty." 

There's something secretive about the way Taehyung answers, as if he's not quite ready to share.  But his friends are having none of that, emboldened by the liquor that flows freely between them and driven to rebuff his short reply.  Jin's hand is gripping his shoulder lightly, shaking him as the others chorus, egging him on for more information.

"Tell us about her!"  Jimin prompts, ever in love with love.  He was always soft, the first to indulge the other men in any sort of skinship and preening at praise, whether from his closest friends or strangers. 

Taehyung figures it would be rude to not, so he begins, slowly, carefully.  He's remembering each quality about you in as much detail as he can.  "She's got dark hair.  It's long, half way down her back.  She has freckles and she laughs like you, Jimin-ah."  That infectious sound erupts, layered together with the laughter of the others.  Yeah, you definitely laughed like him.  "She sometimes wears glasses,"  he gesticulates to the ones nestled into his own crown of black.  "She's pretty tall, but shorter than any of us.  Maybe 165cm?"  A hand is rising, smoothing thoughtfully across his chin as he tries to recall where your head had stopped.  You'd spent most of your time together sitting, so he couldn't be sure.  "She's an art student.  I'm not sure what else she does."  The realization brings with it a frown - he'd have to rectify that.  "I like the way she dresses.  It's cute.  She's a hopeless romantic.  She lives in Hongdae, too."    

"Wait - what did you say her name was?"  

The interruption surprises him and he meets the maknae's wide, doe-eyed stare.  

"I didn't."  On purpose, too.  Once he speaks her name, you won't be a nameless, beautiful stranger to them.  You'll be a fully-formed person and he's not quite sure he's ready for that.  Right now, you're a lovely silhouette in their minds and he quite likes it that way.

"Is her name Cho Jiyeon?"  Taehyung doesn't miss the way Jungkook says your name, like it's precious.  

"You know her?" 

It seems like Jungkook's now the one reluctant to answer, instead opting to shovel a spoonful of stew and rice into his mouth.  He chews for what seems like an eternity before nodding, swallowing thickly.  There's a sheepish quality to his words, the tips of his ears steeped in crimson.  "We had classes together.  We were both in media art."  He doesn't mention that he's had a crush on you for the better part of the four years he's known you, one that had crept up on him over late nights in the library and long walks through quiet neighbourhoods in search of inspiration.  "She's doing her graduate degree in composition now."

That stirs the other members of the table to attention, particularly Namjoon, whose head cants to the side curiously.  "Cho Jiyeon?  I think I recognize that name."  He's considering it, turning the syllables over and over in his head before it comes to him in the form of snapping fingers.  "She's interning with us.  Yoongi says she has a natural ear."  

Taehyung's trying to wrap his head around the fact that somehow three of his best friends know who you are when Jimin interrupts, sullen.  "When do we get to meet her?"  He doesn't like being left out - not that it happens often.  He was the one most of them went to first, if only second to Namjoon. 

The latter for advice, the former for comfort.  That's how it'd always been.

"I want to meet her, too,"  Jin pipes in.  "She won't be able to resist me, Mr. Worldwide Handsome."

Whatever preoccupation Taehyung had been dealing with melts away as they all double over in laughter, leaving Jin to scoff in mock indignation.  He's berating his juniors in a ringing voice, sputtering like he hasn't dealt with this for the past decade.

"She's really nice, hyung."  Jungkook is speaking quietly, fixing his gaze on his elder with a small smile.  Beside him, Namjoon says nothing, just stuffs another piece of lettuce in his mouth and chews thoughtfully.  Jimin is still laughing, growing louder and louder as Jin continues to jokingly berate him. 

"She seems really nice,"  Taehyung agrees levelly.

The raucous laughter to his left has settled significantly, fading into nothing but the sound of chewing mouths, scraping chopsticks, and the occasional clink of shot glasses.  He indulges for once, joining in on not one, but two, shots before shaking his head at the offer of another.  

No one presses him, used to his distaste for liquor.  Instead, the others indulge, years of friendship drawing forth inside jokes and causing conversation to flow as easily as the spirits they ingest.  Taehyung grins and slumps against the worn leather seat of the booth, wholly satisfied with the meal they'd had and ready to head home. 

He doesn't even mind when he's tasked with hailing a jumbo cab and ushering his liquored companions in.  He gives his address to the driver who peers into his rear-view mirror, taking stock of the four other men chatting amongst themselves, laughter edging into the conversation at random intervals.  They didn't seem very drunk but the smell of alcohol lingers upon them, mingling with the faint smell of barbecue. 

"They'll be okay,"  Taehyung promises, flashing his trademark smile.  The older man doesn't seem to find this very reassuring, though he offers one of his own, the wrinkles setting in at the corner of his eyes.  

Once they're moving, slowly but surely, laughter fades to off-hand comments and mumbled responses, eventually turning to silence.  Jungkook is scrolling through his phone in much the same way Jimin and Namjoon are while Jin's head bounces, lolling side to side as he slips in and out consciousness.  It only stops when Jimin shifts, straightening his posture and allowing the eldest's temple to settle against his shoulder.

When his dark eyes meet Taehyung's in the mirror, they share a short smile.

Then, all too quickly, they're back home.  Taehyung takes responsibility for payment as the rest the group file out of the van, propping themselves up against each other on the side of the street.  The fresh air seems to do them all some good as the chatter picks back up.

Namjoon's shaking his head, hands held up and mimicking the motion.  "I'm going home.  I've got an early day tomorrow and need some sleep."  No one tries to persuade him when he waves and begins down the road.  They knew when he said he was done for the night, he meant it.

"Jin-hyung, what about you?"  Jungkook's wide-awake, bouncing from foot to foot.  

The eldest is already steps away, falling in line with Namjoon when he answers.  "I'm heading home, too.  Don't stay out too late!"  Then the two towering figures are rounding the corner and out of sight.

"Should we play Overwatch?" 

It comes from two mouths at once, causing Jimin to round over in a fit of laughter.  It bubbles up and shakes his shoulders, spurred on by the slight buzz he still carries in his bones.  "I guess you're coming over then, Jungkookie."  

The next morning comes in ebbs and flows of consciousness for Jimin, the after effects of the previous night evident in the dull ache behind his eyes and the fact that he feels like he's just eaten ten cotton balls.  He swallows thickly, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as if to dislodge whatever cymbal-clashing monkey is living there.

"I drank toooooo much."  He's whining to himself, falling back against his pillows like a fish out of water, arms splaying at his side.  He stares seriously at the stuffed yellow dog on his chest, as if it'll answer him.  Instead, it remains steadfastly silent and Jimin huffs, rolling onto his side.

A hand reaches for his phone on the bedside table, unplugging it with deft movements before tucking himself back beneath his cocoon of sheets.  The screen reads 8:01 am which is, frankly, far too early. 

Damn his too-good internal clock.

Still grumbling to himself in the quiet of his bedroom, he begins swiping, intent on occupying the time with catching up on emails and scrolling through Instagram.  It doesn't last long, though, because most people aren't up so early on a Sunday morning, and he's finding himself bored in a matter of minutes.

At least he won't be bored alone, he reasons as he pulls up the group chat.

He notes it's been silent since last night when Jin had advised everyone he'd gotten home safely.  

( 8:10am )  park jimin:  is anyone awaaaaake

( 8:10am )  park jimin:  i can't sleep

( 8:10am )  park jimin:  i'm hungry

( 8:10am )  park jimin:  we should get breakfast

He spams the chat without a moment's hesitation, pleased when he sees the little numbers next to his messages descending.

( 8:12am )  kim namjoon:  Where?

( 8:13am )  kim taehyung:  where?

( 8:14am )  jeon jungkook:  :(

( 8:14am )  jeon jungkook:  i need water

( 8:15am )  kim namjoon:  Yoongi says sure.  Jiyeon too lol

( 8:15am )  kim taehyung:  what

( 8:15am )  jeon jungkook:  WHAT

( 8:15am )  jeon jungkook:  you're talking to her????

( 8:16am )  park jimin:  i think you broke jungkookie

Suddenly, the chat is silent, although the indication that people have read the messages is still there.  The glowing "3" stares up at Jimin and he wonders just what is going through his friends' minds. 

He can practically feel Jungkook's nervous energy through the phone, imagining the maknae shaking the device as if that might draw a response out of it.  He figures Taehyung's significantly more at ease, though he notes the solitary "what" Namjoon's words had elicited. 

( 8:20am )  kim namjoon:  Just kidding lol

( 8:21am )  park jimin:  lol

( 8:21am )  kim taehyung:  lol

( 8:22am )  jung hoseok:  who's jiyeon?

( 8:23am )  park jimin:  taetae's new girlfriend lol

( 8:23am )  jung hoseok:  what?!?!?!?!

( 8:24am )  jeon jungkook:  not his girlfriend

( 8:25am )  kim namjoon:  Lol

( 8:25am )  jung hoseok:  explain

( 8:26am )  park jimin:  we'll explain at breakfast!!  I'M HUNGRY

( 8:26am )  park jimin:  usual place in a half hour

He doesn't feel bad about shutting down the chat, rolling out of bed in one fell swoop and nearly screaming when he catches sight of himself.  His shirt is backwards and his hair is contorted in all directions, the soft grey sticking up at all angles. 

Well, there goes his plan to leave without a shower.

Pulling some clean clothes from his closet - he doesn't have time to really consider what's what - he darts out of his bedroom, narrowly avoiding his roommate.  Steam bellows out from the door directly across from his, curling around Taehyung's shoulders and filling the hallway with damp warmth.

"Better be quick,"  he quips, swiping the fluffy white towel through his dark hair.  He allows the smaller man to sidestep him, snickering when he shouts.

“Yah - you left a puddle!”  One Jimin's nearly slipping in, his bare feet skidding across the heated tile before he catches himself on the edge of the counter.  Fingers curl around the basin of the sink, steadying himself as he curses internally.  “Could’ve broken my face,”  he mumbles as he brushes his teeth with one hand and strips out of his backwards shirt and boxers with the other, allowing the clothes to fall to the floor in a discarded heap.

From there, he’s rushing through his usual routine, wishing he’d brought his phone into the bathroom with him.  He knew if they were late, they’d never let him down.  After all, he’d been the one that not only woke everyone up but also set the time.

There’s a knock on the door as he’s unplugging the hairdryer.  “Are you ready?”

“Let’s go!” Jimin pulls the door open with a flourish, expression falling when he notices the way Taehyung's eyes flick to his wrist.  8:58.  Even if they ran, they were definitely going to be late.  "We can take our bikes?"  He offers helpfully, following the other when he turns and heads toward the door.

"I already told them we were running behind."  

Whether he's predictable or not, Jimin appreciates that his friend knows him so well.  "I bet we won't be the last ones there,"  he says, as if that's a comfort, even though it's a blatant lie.  Out of their entire friend group, he was always the last one out the door.  Only recently had that changed, with Jungkook occasionally squeaking in behind him.

"Keep dreaming,"  Taehyung teases as they fall into step with one another, warmed by the early morning rays that filter through the spaces in buildings and branches of trees.  He seems perfectly fine with it, despite his idle mocking, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized coat - grey with black buttons and tartan at the underside of the lapels.  

"You never know,"  Jimin returns with a hum, his mind already turning to what he's going to order.  It happens every time, his indecision rearing its pretty grey head whenever he has to decide what to eat.  Did he want to get the souffle pancakes?  He could never finish them, not that it was ever an issue with Jungkook there.  Or maybe he'd try something new - like the omelette he'd seen someone else get the last time they'd been there.

So preoccupied with potential meal options, he nearly passes the storefront, only stopped from doing so when Taehyung's hand curls in the collar of his cardigan and pulls him back with gentle motion.  He squeaks, allowing himself to be yanked backwards and following dutifully through the doorway once he's readjusted the soft knit across his shoulders.  

"Over here!" 

The sandy brown of Hoseok's hair sticks out among the group, a stark contrast to the black of Jungkook's and the lighter shades of Namjoon's and Yoongi's.  It's enough to catch Jimin's attention, even as they're being waved over. 

There's a chorus of good morning's as the two latecmoers slide into their chairs, filling the six seat table.  Jimin immediately disappears behind a wall of steam, sipping gingerly at the lukewarm coffee and sighing contentedly when the bitter taste spills across his tongue.  He settles comfortably into his seat, surveying the others.

Jungkook looks like he hasn't slept enough, his inky strands a powder puff on his head from lack of styling.  His coffee cup sits empty in front of him and his fingers tap an erratic rhythm across the tabletop, as if that'll translate to 'more coffee' in Morse code.  Both Namjoon and Yoongi look well-rested or as much as they can be, given how early they'd both woken up.  Still, the older producer doesn't look as irritable as he normally does and that's a feat in and of itself.  Then there's Hoseok, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, sunshine spilling out of every pore. 

"So, new girlfriend?"  Not one to beat around the bush, the brunet quirks a brow, leveling Taehyung with a leer. 

"She's not his girlfriend."  From the half-asleep bunny at the far end of the table. 

Hoseok's barely deterred.  "Okay, so new not-girlfriend?"

"They went on a blind date,"  Jimin supplies before giving his order to the waitress that's standing politely to the side, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.  He can't help but giggle to himself when she flashes him a grateful smile, jotting down the rest of the table's orders.  Then his attention is back to the conversation at hand.  "Sort of."

"What?  Sort of?"  Hoseok feels like he's growing more confused every time someone answers a question, his brow furrowing tightly.  "What's a 'sort of' blind date?"

"It was for a video."  With a sigh, Taehyung's finally answering, carding a hand through his sable strands, tucking ends haphazardly behind his ear.  "They approached me a few weeks ago.  It was for some pseudo-fashion dating segment."

"He's interested so he's being shy."  It's the first time Yoongi's spoken all morning, a cheeky smile spreading across his lips like syrup.

"Oooooh."  This seems to placate Hoseok, who nods sagely, tapping at his chin.  "Show me."

"You have a girlfriend!"  Jimin now, smacking the other's shoulder in between laughter.  

"I can appreciate beauty, you know,"  his hyung sniffs, swatting his hands away as the rest of the table observes them with varying levels of amusement.  Almost ten years of friendship and yet nothing has changed.  It's nice at times like this - a reminder of their bond. 

Distantly, the bell above the door chimes and something close to a yelp escapes Jungkook's lips.  The sound draws everyone's attention except for Namjoon's,  who is instead staring in the same direction as the maknae, looking for the source of his surprise.

"You can see her in person,"  he's drawling, barely concealed pleasure colouring his tone and threatening to push words into laughter.  The tension in the room is palpable, so thick he's certain he could cut through it with a knife.  It's almost funny, the way half the table is suddenly on high alert, deers caught in headlights. 

All because you've just stepped into the bistro, tote bag slung over your shoulder and AirPods shoved into your ears. 

notes.  it's going to be a bit of a slow burn from here, interspersed with different POVs and interactions with the boys.

[impracticaldemon]

The Shopping Expedition (or, A Gift for Theo) by impracticaldemon

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Characters:  Theodorus (Theo) van Gogh, MC; also Arthur, Comte Canon Setting; Canon Characters Words: ~ 4500  [Also available on AO3 and FFnet]

A/Note:  Written for Theo’s (Cybird) birthday on May 1st. Happy Birthday Theo!  This wasn’t intended to be so long, but I had too much fun writing the Theo x MC interactions. The story assumes that MC has been there for a while already, but there isn’t yet an established romantic relationship.

~Imp

______________________

The Shopping Expedition

Cuff links? Nice, but boring. Gold tie pin? He did wear a cravat when necessary, but I wanted something distinctive. Watch chain? …I couldn’t remember what he used to tell time, although he probably did carry a pocket watch; after all, he was always in a hurry to get somewhere.  Heh—the thought put me in mind of the White Rabbit from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and the image of Theodorus van Gogh wearing bunny ears and a fluffy white tail made me snicker.

It was the day before Theo’s birthday, and I was getting a little—make that a lot—stressed out over what to get him.  I mean, he had everything he needed, between what Monsieur le Comte provided and his own income.  But I’d recently realized that he had very little in the way of personal keepsakes—things he treasured for more than being useful or necessary.  I wanted to find him something special, maybe even something that would make him smile.

Theo had been rude to me from the moment we’d been introduced.  So why was I trying so hard to find him a memorable birthday present? I suppose it was the little things he did in between mocking my (alleged) naiveté and impugning my intelligence. He noticed how hard I worked, for instance, and respected me for it—even checked up on me a few times when he realized I was putting in late night prep work for the next day.  He paid attention to what I was doing, and acknowledged legitimate improvements.  Mind you, his compliments were often buried among his criticisms, but they were sincere and on-point.  And maybe it was my imagination, but there had been a lot fewer insults lately.

I left the jeweller’s—the fourth such shop I’d been in—and frowned down at the paving stones.  The sun was already low in the sky, and I’d promised not to stay out past dusk.  Paris wasn’t a safe place after dark, and a lot of areas weren’t safe at any time. Or so I’d been told, over and over again, by various residents of Chez Comte, including Master Theodorus.

“Planning to take root and grow leaves?”  Snarky comment, snarky tone, big presence.

“Good afternoon to you too, Theo, and how are you today?”

[READ MORE BELOW CUT]

I looked up—quite a ways—and saw the expected sky blue eyes and irritating smirk.  His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, as usual, which made it feel like he was looming over me.  Other shoppers detoured around him without more than a quick glance of annoyance, with the exception of one belligerent young man who called him a rude name that he automatically returned in kind.  They glowered briefly at each other, but there was nothing in it—just an ordinary exchange of ‘civilities’ in Paris of the nineteenth century.  Or any century, come to think of it.

“Seriously, though, you going in or out?”  Theo indicated the shop behind me with his chin.

“I’m fine, thanks.  It’s a nice day, and I don’t often get out to see the city.  Haven’t needed the umbrella so far.”

Eyeroll.  Sigh.  “Give it up already, would you?  Are you here with Sebas?  Little pups like you need a handler—and maybe a leash.  You might get into trouble, otherwise.”

Right.  Why was I trying to find him a birthday present again? Oh yeah, because there was a heart of at least tarnished silver in there somewhere, and… well, I preferred to not think too hard about the rest.  I gave him my best ‘the customer is always right especially when they’re not’ smile. As a travel planner and occasional tour guide for status-conscious co-patriots, I’d had a lot of practice.

“I’m out on my own today, I’m afraid.  Napoleon and Isaac gave me a lift into town, but otherwise I’m completely unsupervised. How about you?  No big brother around to remind you to play nicely with the other children?”

Sadly, I wasn’t able to get a rise out of Theo, although his smirk faded into something closer to genuine amusement.

“What happened to the polite little girl who first arrived at the mansion?  I seem to remember somebody who stuck to ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and ‘I’m sorry’ most of the time.”

“Well, I didn’t get the best first impression of the tenants, and where I’m from, civility is often the best defense.”  I was going to add more—about lecherous writers and their syrup-swilling friends—but time was getting short, and not only did I still not have a present, but I was starting to wonder what was going on with Theo.  It was unlike him not to be twitching with impatience by this point in the conversation.  “Hey, Theo?”

“Hm?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate your company, but what’s up?”

“What do you mean?  I happened to be in town and saw you blocking traffic—thought I’d better wake you up before somebody knocked you down and stole your lunch money.”

I ignored the usual challenge to my maturity and life skills. “But now we’re both blocking traffic, and you’re always in a hurry when you’re on business.”  The image of the White Rabbit with his giant pocket watch came to mind again, and I added:  “You know—‘I’m late! I’m late!’ and all that.”

Theo frowned, apparently not catching the reference.  It occurred to me that I might be quoting the movie, rather than the book—and would Master Theodorus have bothered to read something as whimsical as Alice in Wonderland?  

“I’m never late for business appointments, hondje–what’s with you?”  Before I could reply, he went on.  “Believe it or not, you have a really terrible sense of self-preservation.  I was just trying to look out for one of God’s dumb creatures, you know?”

“Sure.”  Amazingly, the insult rolled right off me.  Maybe I was finally getting used to him, or maybe it was the dawning awareness that he was genuinely concerned and couldn’t bring himself to admit it.  “So, are you staying in town for dinner, or heading back?”

“Haven’t decided.” Theo shrugged.  “The real question is, how are you getting home?”

“A carriage?  I mean, that’s normal, isn’t it?”

“Napoleon or Isaac meeting you?”

“No, why?”  Great.  Now I had no birthday present and I was starting to feel nervous.  “I can always fend off the cabbie with my umbrella if there’s a problem, okay?  Anyway, I know this is usually your line, but I have to get going.  I still have something to pick up, and—for safety reasons—I’m not supposed to stay out after sunset.”

“…I guess I’ll go with you,” Theo grumbled.  At my look of surprise, he shoved his hands further into his pockets.  “You’re almost useful now, that’s all.  Be a waste for something to happen to you when Sebas finally has you halfway trained.”  More quietly, he added, “Still don’t know what they were thinking, letting you out on your own...”

I stared at him, torn between irritation and confusion.  After a moment, his eyes flicked away from mine.  I thought there was a hint of red in his fair cheeks, but the late afternoon sun made it hard to tell.

“Look, Theo, all joking aside, I’m not a child, and I think I can manage to take a carriage home on my own.”

“Who says I’m joking? What part of ‘Paris isn’t safe’ isn’t getting through your abnormally thick skull?  Look, you’re wearing nice clothes, and you’re obviously carrying money. Sure, you’re probably okay shopping on your own during the day, but taking a carriage out into the middle of nowhere just as it’s getting dark?  I couldn’t believe it when Arthur mentioned—” He broke off abruptly.

“What does our literary Lothario have to do with anything?” I demanded.

“Just—it doesn’t matter, okay?”  Theo was scowling, now; it was a familiar, if not especially charming expression.  “The point is, travelling home alone is asking for trouble, and you’re already trouble-prone.”

“Trouble-prone?”  

“Well, you managed to get stuck in le Comte’s door—that’s a first.  And just—ugh.  If you have something left to buy, we should get moving.  Besides, you’re still blocking traffic.”

Before I could find the words to properly express my aggravation, there was a polite cough at my elbow.  A neatly-dressed, middle-aged man had opened the door behind me, and was looking inquiringly between Theo and I.

“Madame, Monsieur… I do not wish to intrude upon a lovers’ quarrel, but perhaps you would be so kind as to find a more appropriate location?”  He bowed politely.  “You see, Monsieur is rather, ah, formidable, and it is not good for business.  I’m sure that you understand.”

Theo shot me an exasperated look, put a hand under my elbow, and dragged me away.  Since I couldn’t do anything about it without causing a scene, I went with him, calling an apology over my shoulder to the shopkeeper.

After we’d gone a short distance, I tried to yank my arm free.  I wasn’t successful, but at least it got my cranky companion to slow down. Once we’d reached a quieter spot, Theo finally let go.  We were both a little red, and this time it definitely wasn’t just the light.

“You—”

“What the—”

Theo shoved his hands back into his pockets.  I would have crossed my arms in response, but I had a bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

“Theo—”

“Hondje—”

I decided to let him go first.  It had occurred to me—as annoying as it was—that he might have a point about the wisdom of taking a hired carriage back to the mansion on my own.  There was no way to call ahead, and the stretch of road between the outskirts of the city and le Comte’s residence was uninhabited and surrounded by forest.  While I was confident that the residents of the mansion would hunt down anyone who harmed me, it made no sense to put myself in harm’s way unnecessarily.  

“Why didn’t Napoleon make arrangements for you to get home?” Theo asked at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence.  “He usually fusses over things like that.”

“I don’t know.”  I thought about the trip into town, and added, “I got the impression that he thought it was already taken care of.  He reminded me to stick to the one shopping district, but that was it.”

Theo suddenly went still, as though something had occurred to him.  Then he scowled again, but it didn’t seem to be at me, for a change.

“Who gave you the money to take a carriage back to the mansion?”

“Le Comte—well, technically I suppose it was Arthur…”  I paused, thinking it over.  “Arthur came up to me shortly before I left to tell me that le Comte had asked him to pass along the money for the trip back.  I was a bit surprised, but it didn’t occur to me to be worried about it.”

Theo muttered something in Dutch that I didn’t quite catch.  It sounded rude, but when I raised my eyebrows at him he just hunched a shoulder and growled, “Arthur, not you.”

“You think Arthur set me up?”  That made no sense.  “But why? I mean, he’s the one who told me—”

I bit off the rest of the sentence, since I’d been about to tell Theo that I’d been looking for a birthday present for him.  Arthur was the one who had recommended the particular shopping district and given me directions.  I’d reluctantly consulted him about possible gifts for Theo, since they appeared to be friends.  I would have preferred to ask our resident angel—Theo’s brother Vincent—but he’d been working non-stop on a painting for the past several days.

“Let me guess.”  Theo had stopped scowling, although he didn’t look happy, either.  “Somebody—probably Arthur, since Vincent’s been painting—told you about my birthday, right?  And you got it in your head that you should get me something, because you would.  Then Arthur suggested where to shop—he knows I like a lot of the artisans in this district.  Sound about right?”

“…Maybe.  But you still haven’t explained what you are doing here.”

“I told you—I had to be in town anyway, and somebody had to look out for the ignorant puppy.”

“I really wish you’d stop it with the pet references.  How did you know I’d gone into town and was coming back on my own?”

“Arthur.”  Theo grimaced. “We were chatting in the front hall, and he mentioned that he was concerned, because he overheard that the coachman wasn’t returning to town for you.  When I said you were probably coming back with Napoleon or Isaac, he made a big show of remembering that Napoleon and Isaac were staying in town late tonight. Bastard.”

I continued to stare at Theo, as the bits and pieces started to click.  It was beginning to sound as though Theo had rushed into town entirely for my sake—so that I wouldn’t have to travel home alone.  Even stranger, Arthur had been able to wind him up with a pretty suspicious story—maybe because my safety was at stake? Normally, Theo was as sceptical as they came.  …Not that I was feeling warm and fuzzy just because Theo had panicked over me or anything.

“What are you grinning about, hondje?”  The glower was back, probably because Theo hated looking like he actually cared about anyone other than Vincent.

“Nothing.”  For some reason, I couldn’t get the smile off my face.

“Just remember that if you had half a brain, and weren’t so reckless, you’d cause a lot less trouble.”

“Right—because it’s my fault that Arthur set me up just so he could mess with you.”

Theo didn’t respond; he seemed to be deep in thought.  Then he hastily pulled out a pocket watch and muttered, “Damn, I really am late, now.”

I stifled a giggle, as the image of Theo the White Rabbit came to mind once more.  “Hey, Theo?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry if you ended up missing something because you were looking out for me.”

He looked startled, then replaced the watch in his pocket and turned away, running a hand through his bright copper-brown hair.  “It wasn’t a big deal.  Otherwise you’d be on your own.”

“I still appreciate it—thank you.”

“Well… just remember that you owe me one.”  He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.  “You still had somewhere you needed to go?”

“Yeah.  Do you mind if I go into that bookstore?”  I pointed across the street.  I was pretty sure I’d been there once before with Sebastian, who was picking up an order for Leonardo.

“Whatever you want is probably in the library at the mansion, you realize.”  Despite his words, Theo immediately set out towards the store.  I hurried after him, unable to repress the thought that it was a lot more comfortable being in nineteenth century Paris with somebody—especially if he happened to be moderately intelligent and good-looking.  Having a glare that parted crowds like Moses parting the Red Sea was a bonus.

I was fortunate enough to find what I wanted, and quick enough that even Theo couldn’t find fault with me for wasting his time.  When I rejoined him outside the store, he was idly flipping through an art book, criticizing the publisher’s choice of paintings.  I could tell that his heart wasn’t really in it, though.

“So, I guess we should get home then?” I asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.  I’d suggest eating out, but Sebas is probably waiting for you, right?”

To my surprise, he held out an imperative hand for my bag, which now contained a neatly-wrapped two-volume set along with the bits and pieces I’d picked up earlier.  For some reason, I didn’t try to refuse, even though the bag wasn’t especially heavy.

“Thanks…”

“Sure.”  He offered his elbow, and rolled his eyes when I stared at it blankly.  “Take my arm, would you?  Last thing I need is for you to trip and twist an ankle now that the light’s going. And stop looking so surprised—makes you look even more out of it than usual.”

“Uh-huh.  Have you ever considered not adding the insults? I hear it can do wonders for people’s opinion of you.”

He looked down at me, smirking.  “Why would I care what people think?”

“You care what Vincent thinks.”

“He’s my older brother, and an artistic genius.  He’s allowed to have opinions.”

“Right…”

We were walking steadily toward the nearest area that was likely to have coaches for hire that would travel beyond the city limits.  I hated to admit it, even to myself, but it was nice to have an arm to lean on, especially since my feet had been sore for a quite while thanks to the uneven cobbles and hard paving stones.  I’d done more walking than I’d anticipated, and late Victorian fashions in ladies’ footwear were elegant, but not especially comfortable.

“Oi, hondje! Don’t fall asleep until we’re actually in the coach, okay?  Or are you hoping I’ll carry you?”

I stifled a yawn, and realized that Theo had a point—about falling asleep on my feet, not about wanting to be carried.  Because I didn’t.  Why would I?

“Oh jeez…  Come on, we’re here now—up you go.”

I let him help me into the carriage, and settled myself decorously on the forward-facing seat. Theo joined me a moment later, having spoken to the driver.  He sat down beside me, and stretched his long legs out in front of him as much as space allowed.  

“Go ahead and nap if you want,” he told me, pulling out a notebook and pencil.  “Maybe I can get some work done if you’re not babbling at me.”

“I don’t babble.”  At least, that’s what I tried to say.  A yawn got in the way, and Theo snorted.  I narrowly resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at him.  Too bad I really was feeling sleepy, though.

We reached the mansion very shortly after that, from my perspective.  I didn’t remember much from the trip itself, which was just as well—or so I told myself.  For one thing, when I woke up, I was leaning on Theo’s chest, and his arm was around me. Moreover, he’d obviously taken off my hat for me, which was just as well, since otherwise I’d have been skewered by the ten-centimeter-long hatpins.  I felt stupidly pleased about that, as well as comfortable tucked up against him, which was embarrassing.  Best not to remember how it had come about.

Theo’s face was scrupulously neutral when I sat up just as we were reaching the mansion.  He just… totally ignored whatever had happened. Not that anything had happened, but still.  I jammed my hat back onto my head, and tried not to yelp when I poked myself with a hatpin. Theo snickered.

“It’s on backward.  Might as well leave it off—you’ll look a little less untidy that way.  Though I guess at least it covers up your hair…”

I wanted to try for icy disdain, but instead I found myself missing his warmth beside me.  Apparently, he noticed something in my expression. His finger lightly brushed my cheek, which suddenly felt very warm indeed.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that, hondje,” he muttered, only partly to me.

“Wh-why not?”  This time, I tried for aloof.  What came out was anything but.

“Well… you look like you wouldn’t mind being kissed, and it is almost my birthday.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Arthur!”  Why was I leaning toward him, instead of grabbing my things and hurrying out of the carriage?

“That must be it.”

The touch of his lips on mine was electric.  Okay, what was going on?  I mean—really?

There was a respectful knock on the carriage door, and Theo’s fingers dropped from my cheek.  He grinned at me, but I couldn’t read the emotion behind it.

“Look on the bright side. The driver was bound to think we’d been up to something, since your hair’s such a mess.  At least this way you’ve gotten some benefit out of the embarrassment.”

“What?!  Theo!”

Of course he opened the door at that moment, and it was plain that the driver thought exactly what Theo had predicted he would think.  Ugh!  It was mortifying, but at least the man was a stranger, and hopefully I’d never see him again.

The same couldn’t be said for Arthur, Sebastian, and le Comte, who met us as we came into the house. I’d tried to tidy my hair and replace my hat while Theo paid off the driver, but the expressions on the three men’s faces when they took in my appearance suggested I hadn’t done a very good job.  I came to the conclusion that I’d have to kill Arthur, just to avoid ever seeing the smug, self-satisfied look ever again.  At least le Comte was back to his normal, pleasant self after a bare instant; Sebastian raised his eyebrows at me suggestively—naturally, I ignored him.

Unlike me, Theo was completely self-possessed.  He handed me my bag with a casual, “Try not to drop it, after all that.”  Then he nodded to le Comte and Sebastian, and dropped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.  I thought I saw Arthur wince, but if so, any pain wasn’t enough to offset his amusement. He winked at me as Theo marched him out of the front hall towards the games room.

“Are you alright, chérie?” Le Comte appeared to be genuinely concerned, so I reassured him that I was fine.

“You’re late getting back,” murmured Sebastian.  “You’ll have to tell me all about it while we work on dinner.”

“Or not,” I murmured right back at him.  I bowed to le Comte.  “Monsieur le Comte—here is the money that Arthur gave me, from you, to pay for the journey back from town.  As it turned out, I didn’t need it.”

“From me?  No… it’s not mine.  But why don’t you keep it, since it appears that Arthur’s been up to mischief again?  The least he can do is help to pay for your parcels.”

When I tried to protest, le Comte smiled gently at me.  I accepted my defeat graciously—after all, there was some merit to his argument.  After a few more pleasantries—which helped to soothe my ruffled feathers, I admit—I went upstairs to change and put away my things. Le Comte accompanied me to the second floor, and detained me briefly outside my door.

“Did you find what you were looking for?  I gather you were trying to find a gift for Theodorus.”

“Oh…”  I hesitated, then nodded.  “Yes, I did eventually choose something, thank you Comte.  It came to me when I was looking at watch guards—I thought maybe a sturdy but elegant gold chain would suit Theo, you see.”

“That makes sense. But I take it that you didn’t get the chain?”

“No…  I wanted something more unusual.”  I decided to confide in le Comte—he struck me as good at keeping secrets, and once I told somebody, I was less likely to chicken out. I reached into my bag, and pulled out the wrapped parcel.  “Open it, and tell me what you think—if you don’t mind.  I’m sure it’s completely the opposite of what Theo would ordinarily read, but that’s why I got it.”

“I’m intrigued, ma petite. But if you mean that you chose something other than a technical work, or an art book, then I congratulate you.  It’s perceptive of you to realize that he could use something to shake him out of his tendency toward ‘all work and no play’—other than drinking with Arthur, that is.”

“Well, to be honest, that was only part of it.”  I made sure that le Comte followed me into my room, since with my luck, Theo would come up at exactly the wrong moment if we stayed in the upper hallway.

“Now I’m even more curious.” Le Comte deftly untied the string that secured the parcel, and folded back the brown wrapping paper to reveal two illustrated books.  “’Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’… and ‘Through the Looking Glass’.”  He looked up at me, and I let out a sigh of relief when I saw the approval in his warm golden eyes.  “I wonder what our ever-practical Theo will make of these?  An excellent choice, chérie.  And no doubt you feel a certain kinship with Mademoiselle Alice? Although I think you chose a more dangerous world to fall into, as it were.”

I returned his smile and shrugged.  “Maybe. I’ve had a number of frightening experiences here, I’ll admit, but I’m not sure that Wonderland sounds all that pleasant.  At least nobody here has threatened to cut off my head for refusing to play croquet using live flamingos.”  When le Comte laughed softly, I added, “But you’re right that I do feel a bit like Alice at times.”

Le Comte flipped idly through the first book, admiring the illustrations.  Naturally, I’d made sure the artwork wouldn’t attract outright derision from the birthday boy.

“Tell me, chérie, what was your other reason for purchasing these books?  I thought it was because of Alice, and your situation here, but I gather that’s not it.”

“Oh—yes, you’re right.” I took the book from le Comte and flipped back several pages to one of the first illustrations, which showed a well-dressed rabbit with a large pocket watch and an air of panic about him.  Underneath, the caption read: ‘Oh dear, oh dear.  I shall be too late.’

Le Comte stared at the White Rabbit for several seconds without comment, and I began to feel anxious again.  Any resemblance to a certain hyper-busy art dealer was apparently all in my head…  Then the polished, ever-courteous, impeccably-dressed man beside me snickered audibly.

“Comte?”

He closed the book, leaving it between my hands, and bowed politely.  “I wish you all the best, ‘Alice’.  If you can get Theo to slow down and enjoy himself, even a little, you will have done him a true service.”

I nodded, but didn’t know what to say.  Who was I to tell Theo to slow down, if he was doing what he wanted to do?  We had a tenuous connection at best, although the afternoon’s events had suggested something more.  Was there more?  Did I want there to be?  What could I—or should I—read into that barely-there kiss?

When Sebastian arrived at my room twenty minutes later, sounding half-concerned and half-annoyed, I still hadn’t moved, and I still didn’t know the answers to any of my questions. The only thing I knew for sure was that I clearly had Theo on the brain.  I apologized to Sebastian, put ‘Alice’ into a drawer to wrap later, and finally got changed. It was time to concentrate on the job at hand, and not Theo’s unusually protective behaviour, or a stray kiss.

[END]

_______________________

A/Note:  Were you amused? Entertained? Please let me know what you thought!  Feedback is an author’s bread and butter when it comes to fanfiction. ♥ There may or may not be a sequel, depending on my time, other writing commitments, and reader interest.  For now, this story is published under my one-shot collection “Teatime Tales from the Mansion”

[cali-holland]

Fakin’ It- Shawn Mendes One Shot

Pairing: Shawn Mendes X Reader

Prompt: You absolutely hate Shawn Mendes, so being a fake relationship with him is the worst thing for you… kind of...

Word Count: 4500 words

Based On: Perfect Situation by Weezer

Tag List:  @cutefluffy89 @peterparkyourassonme​

Masterlist    Shawn Mendes Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

Two Years Ago...

“Niall, I thought you said it was a low key party.” You groaned when you spotted him in his kitchen,

“It is.” He laughed and pulled you into a hug. You could smell the beer coming off him, making you laugh all on your own.

When your close friend had invited you to his place for a ‘small party’ while you visited Ireland, you of course agreed. Both you and Niall had busy careers working as singers, pulling both of you away from each other for long periods of time- in fact, you hadn’t seen him in person for four months until today. Normally, you weren’t the type to party, or to attend parties, but he convinced you by stressing that it was tiny.

“So you’re already drunk.” You teased, pulling away from his embrace to grab a drink.

“Tipsy, love. I can handle my alcohol.” He said. His eyes lit up as he saw someone in the other room. Niall grabbed your hand instantly and began to drag you into that room, “I want you to meet someone.”

“Niall,” You whined before he came to a sudden halt and you were met with a very tall, lean, and curly-haired boy. Your first thought was that it was Harry, but, no, you’d met him before and he had short hair now. You did a double take as you realized it was Shawn Mendes, someone that Niall definitely knew you wanted to meet. He was attractive and an amazing artist, and you were really intrigued by him. You could tell he was a bit more drunk than Niall; he could barely stand up on his ownl.

“Hey, man.” Shawn grinned at Niall. He went to give Niall a hug, but, in his drunken state, he missed. Instead of his hand wrapping around Niall’s shoulder, his hand hit your cup, spilling the beer all over you.

“Watch it.” You said, after letting out a surprised shriek. At your outburst, you saw everyone begin to look at the three of you, wondering what the commotion was about. You started to shake as you stood there, now dripping in alcohol.

“Y/N, you okay?” Niall asked.

“Whoa, my bad.” You stepped back as Shawn reached for you. You weren’t exactly sure why he reacted that way, how was he at all going to help now?

“Niall, I’m going to head out.” You turned to your friend with an annoyed expression on your face.

“Y/N, it was just a beer.” He tried to reason with you and you shook your head at him.

“I’ll see you around.” You told him before quickly maneuvering your way through the crowd and out of the house, trying your best to not cry at the thought of all eyes on you, the girl with a beer stained dress.

After that night, you had a sour distaste for Shawn Mendes, and he didn’t even remember it. Unlike Niall, who probably had the same amount of beer that night, Shawn didn’t remember you at the party at all. Niall could recall everything and he knew that you could too, but that didn’t stop him from trying to reacquaint you and Shawn.

“Niall,” You hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me that he was going to be here?” You crossed your arms in front of your dress as you stood outside of the Toronto brunch spot, where you could clearly see Shawn sitting inside with a few of your mutual friends. You had just arrived to have brunch with ‘a few friends’, according to Niall and you didn’t even think to ask if Shawn would be there, despite you being in his city.

“It’s been two months, can you let it go?” Niall begged, “I swear he’s a great guy.”

“Stop it.” You said, unimpressed with his attempts.

“Give him a try. He doesn’t even remember that night.” His words made you scoff.

“Of course he doesn’t.”

“YN, please, be civil.” Niall pleaded, opening the door. With a sigh, you muttered a quiet ‘yes’ and walked into the restaurant behind him.

“Hey, Niall.” Shawn smiled before looking over at you. You tried to read any emotion on his face, wondering if he did actually remember you but he had lied to Niall as a way to save himself the embarrassment of admitting his drunken actions.

“Shawn, this is Y/N. Y/N, Shawn.” Niall introduced the two of you, sitting down and leaving an open seat directly in front of Shawn.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Shawn stretched out his hand to you as if everything was fine. Maybe he thought everything was, but you certainly didn’t.

For that brunch, you were civil, but not civil enough for Niall’s liking. He told you that you were being too flat and emotionless, turning down Shawn every time he tried to make conversation with you. You just scoffed at the thought of Niall chastising you for your actions.

It happened a few more times over the course of two years where Niall would invite you and Shawn to go places and tell neither of you that the other would be present. Like when he invited you to sit with him at the same Brits table, you didn’t know you were signing up to sit next to Shawn for several hours. After that first encounter, on Shawn’s part, the Canadian decided to abandon his attempts at being excessively kind to you. Much like you did to him, he turned on a negative, arrogant persona when you were around.

Present day, it had been over two years since you first met Shawn at that party, since he poured beer all over you and ruined a perfectly good night otherwise. Your career was really starting to take off with your new album being released, but the sales were slowly dropping. You needed a solution to that, and Shawn caught himself facing the same problem. Your manager swore it was just a coincidence that Shawn’s manager contacted her with the pitch of a fake relationship, but you knew there was a brunette Irishman to blame for it.

“I can’t believe you.” You exclaimed, throwing a pillow at Niall from across your living room. You had just received the news from your manager that you were now in a public relationship with Shawn Mendes, and Niall was sat on your couch, so naturally he deserved a pillow in the face for his trickery.

“What did I do?” He asked, putting down his phone to throw the pillow back at you.

“Niall, you told my manager to set me up with Shawn? Of all people to have me fake date, she happened to choose him.”

“Technically, I told Shawn’s manager about your sales and he got the idea for himself- it was a coincidence, a complete coincidence.”

“You’re so-” You were cut off as he spoke again.

“It’s been two years. Can’t you just get over it?” He asked.

“Please,” You scoffed, “No matter how many times you’ve invited me to a group outing with him there, it won’t change the fact that he’s an absolute jerk.”

“You’re just still bitter about that dress. You got the stain out, didn’t you?”

“It’s not the dress! He’s a horrible person, Niall. How are you friends with him?”

“I don’t know, but you’re going to be dating him now.” Niall laughed at the thought, “Don’t go actually falling in love with him.”

~~~

“I can’t believe I signed up for this.” You said through your fakest sincere smile, grabbing Shawn’s hand and interlocking your fingers.

“Sales are low, you know the deal.” He let out a small shrug, having already done his part of complaining on the previous day. You had always thought of yourself as open to using a false relationship as a publicity stunt, but, of course, you’d be much happier about it if you and your new boyfriend could actually stand each other. It had been just a week since you found out about this setup and complained about it to Niall, and you and Shawn became a public item yesterday.

“God, does your hand have to be so sweaty?” You asked quietly, now approaching the paparazzi waiting outside of his hotel, where you had ‘stayed the night’.

“Maybe your hand is the problem.” Shawn replied. As he led you through the paps to his car, he never dropped your hand. Once you two were in the car and away from the flashing cameras, all physical contact immediately ended.

“How much longer do we have to do this?” He sighed as the driver stopped in front of the very public restaurant that had been chosen for your very public lunch.

“At least another three weeks.” You said.

“And it’s only been a day.” He shook his head before the two of you got out of the car. He put his arm around your waist casually as you two faked your way through the restaurant. When you sat down, you were aware of the camera watching you from the window and you leaned over, giving Shawn a quick peck on the cheek.

“I sure hope I don’t get mono from you.” Shawn said.

“I’m more worried about getting an std from you. I bet that’d make bigger press.”

“Like I would ever want to go that far with you.” You let out a laugh as you watched him force himself to not roll his eyes at you.

“Ah, this is fun, isn’t it?” You teased, leaning into his side as he kept an arm around you.

“It’s going to make me vomit, that’s what this is.”

“Well, good thing cameras are on us right now then, huh?”

That time, Shawn did roll his eyes, but threw in a smile to make it seem much more playful than it actually was.

~~~

You sighed as you adjusted your position on the dressing room couch- it was the comfiest couch in the entire arena so you had to manage being in the same room as Shawn for the moment. You originally were trying to come up with some sort of inspiration for a new song, but fell short as you pulled up online shopping sites. It would have been your most tranquil time, but you were stuck on the small couch, listening to Shawn mindlessly play guitar from across the room.

Your fake relationship had been going on for three weeks now, and, though you hate to admit it, Shawn wasn’t the arrogant drunk you remember him to be. Instead, he was quite kind and sensible; plus, the last two years have certainly done him well looks wise. You didn’t hate him as much as you thought you did- in fact, you might even go for mildly respecting him as a human being, but definitely, you did not like him.

“Can you please keep it down in there? I’m trying to work here.” You groaned as the strumming got louder. You peered over the couch’s back to see Shawn walking towards you with the guitar in hand.

“How does this sound?” He asked, playing a slow melody on his guitar.

“Like you’re absolutely going to bore me to death.”

“Got a problem with a slow song?” Shawn raised an eyebrow at you. At your silence, he looked over at your laptop, “Working, huh?”

“I was working.” You closed your laptop and sat up, almost embarrassed that he caught you online shopping, at Victoria’s Secret no less.

“It looked pretty important. You should get back to it.” He teased with a wink, “I’d like to see what you come up with.”

“It’s on sale.” You grumbled, slapping his arms to distract him from your bright red cheeks.

“You’re almost bearable to look at when you’re angry.” Shawn laughed.

“Well, you’re never bearable to look at.”

“Nah, we both know you’ve thought I was bearable. I caught you totally checking me out yesterday.”

“I was trying to figure out how someone could be so damn sweaty and smelly.”

“You enjoyed the view of me in a tank top.” His teasing smile widened as he leaned closer to you.

“If I wanted sweaty and gross men, I’d actually go to a gym.” You stated before quickly walking away from him and dipping into the attached bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror and shook your head when you saw the bright blush on your cheeks.

“No, absolutely no.” You whispered to yourself- you were not falling for his charms.

~~~

“Are you almost ready to go? I swear it’ll be over before we even get out of here.” Shawn groaned, standing impatiently by the door.

“I said I was coming.” You replied, making your way out of the hotel bedroom the next day. You had your phone and purse in hand as you stopped in front of him. You raised an eyebrow at him when you realized his eyes were lingering far too long on your outfit as a whole, “Are we going, Mendes?”

“Yeah, we would've been there twenty minutes ago if you were on time.” He covered up his blush by blaming the situation on you as he opened the door for the two of you.

“You know, if someone had told me a year ago that I would be going to a Weezer concert with Shawn Mendes, I wouldn’t have believed them until they added that it’s for a contract.”

“You should be happy. This is all ending in a couple of days.” Shawn said as you two reached the elevator.

“Happy?”

“Yeah, your album’s been going up in the charts and you’ll be done with me by the time the week’s over.”

“You’ve been checking my album’s charts?” You asked teasingly.

“Only because it’s behind mine by one.” He replied quickly. His cheeks flushed when he heard the snap in his voice. In all the weeks of banter, he’d never sounded so harsh with a comment before. The elevator dinged open and he slid his hand into yours. Walking out past the waiting cameras, the two of you got into his car.

The car ride was oddly silent in your opinion, and you noticed how Shawn’s hand lingered in yours a few moments longer than it usually would. Normally, he’d drop your the instant the doors were closed, but this time the radio made through an entire song before he realized he’d still been holding onto you. Brushing past the subtle movement, you looked down at your phone to notice a new text from none other than Niall.

‘Are you on your way yet?’ He had asked.

‘Yes, somebody took extra long to pamper’ You responded.

‘Sooo how are things with you and loverboy? Do I get an update before I see you two here?’ Niall asked and you let out a small laugh before locking your phone, completely choosing to not respond.

“Who was that?” Shawn asked.

“Niall. He’s just wondering where we’re at.” You explained as the driver pulled up to the venue.

“He’s always so impatient.” He shook his head with a laugh before the two of you got out of the car.

“Y/N! Shawn!” Niall smiled at the two of you when you arrived.

“Hey, Ni.” You replied, giving him a tight hug. Niall couldn’t help but chuckle when Shawn suddenly found one of his rings very interesting. The Irish boy knew Shawn better than to dismiss it as sheer awkwardness, it was Shawn distracting himself from jealousy.

“Shawn, how’ve you been?” Nill asked, turning his attention to his other friend as he let go of you.

“Been good. And you?” Shawn answered as they did a quick hug. As he struck up a conversation with Niall, you casually wrapped your arms around Shawn’s waist and leaned into his side.

“Cameras.” You said quietly to Niall as a way to explain the sudden pda. You hadn’t seen any cameras- you really just missed Shawn’s touch, but you’d never admit to that.

“Oh that’s always fun.” He teased. Shawn placed a hand on your back, gently stroking up and down your spine.

As the concert started, you turned your full attention to the band. You were so completely lost in singing all the lyrics and moving your arms as a way to dance that you hardly realized that Shawn was pinned up behind you, one of his arms was wrapped around your waist so that his hand rested near your hip.

“I love this song!” You told Niall, who was standing beside you as Perfect Situation began to play.

“I don’t know this song!” He laughed. He pointed back to the small vip snackbar as a way to tell you where he was going before he left.

“You really know all the words, don’t you?” Shawn said in your ear, making you turn around to face him. He brought both hands to rest on your hips.

“Tell me there’s a logic out there,

Leading me to better prepare

For the day that something really special might come.” You sang along to the song, smiling at Shawn as you did it. He smiled down at you, feeling himself completely sinking into the moment. You wrapped your arms around his neck while singing the next few lines of the bridge,

“Tell me there’s some hope for me

I don’t wanna be lonely

For the rest of my days on the earth”

As the guitar solo started, you felt Shawn leaning in closer to you. His eyes never left yours as he whispered, “Cameras.”

Once the words left his mouth, his lips found yours. You let yourself get lost in it, fully succumbing to every positive thought of Shawn you’ve had in the recent weeks. You let out a small gasp as Shawn let his tongue slip into your mouth and his hands wandered around your body, pulling you into him.

This kiss was strange to you, but in the best way possible. You and Shawn had kissed a few times before for the paparazzi pictures, but you had never gone so far as french kissing, or even such a steamy makeout. 

“Did you guys forget there’s a concert going?” Niall’s voice brought you and Shawn back to reality as you finally let go of each other.

“We were giving the paps a bit of a show.” Shawn said. You knew that was exactly what happened, but you didn’t know why you felt so upset by his comment. It was all fake, and here you were falling head over heels for him.

“Well, that was a first though.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at Shawn.

“A show.” He replied with a nod. He turned his attention to the stage, acting as if it never happened. Niall let out a small laugh, making Shawn blush. You rolled your eyes and turned back to the concert going on. Shawn had one arm hanging over your shoulder and you casually held his hand, using your other hand to continue to semi-dance to the music. Though his blush didn’t go unnoticed by you, he was glad that you didn’t pick up on the fact that no one, besides Niall, had been looking at you two in that moment.

As the concert ended, Niall led the way as the three of you left, through the expected crowd of paparazzi. Your hand loosely held onto Shawn’s, trying not to get overwhelmed by the flashing lights.

“Y/N, Shawn, are you two really a thing?” One of the paps asked, shoving their camera into Shawn’s face.

“Back off, man.” Shawn replied, trying his best to avoid the questions. His grip on your hand tightened, pulling you closer. You let out a small shriek as the photographer grabbed your free wrist. Shawn immediately turned around and freed your wrist, “I said, ‘back off.’ Get your hands off her.”

The photographer back down as Shawn continued to lead you to the car with his arm now wrapped around your shoulders protectively.

“I can see the headlines now, ‘Good guy Shawn Mendes shows an aggressive side’.” Niall laughed after the three of you were settled in the car.

“Shut up.” Shawn muttered, avoiding your eyes.

“Shawn, you didn’t have to do that. I was fine.” You tried to lessen the situation. He pulled his arm back from around you and scoffed.

“Yeah, sure you’re never fine.” He spat back.

“What do you mean I’m never fine?” You took offense to his comment.

“You’re never happy with anything. From the moment I met you, you were just cold-hearted and arrogant.”

“Well at least I don’t spill beer on people as a greeting.” Before Shawn could question you, Niall piped in.

“Guys, can we not have a pissing match right now?” Niall asked, knowing that you two would soon raise your voices and make the car ride even more uncomfortable.

“You’re being such a dick again.” You said, rolling your eyes at Shawn.

“And you’re not appreciative over the fact that I was trying to help.”

“Don’t you even-”

“Y/N, Shawn, can you two please shut the hell up? I love both of you, but, God, you two need to sort out this sexual tension when I’m not here.”

“What?” You and Shawn both exclaimed while looking over at him.

“Sexual tension with her? She’s absolute wreck.” Shawn began to say as you argued over him.

“Shawn’s literally the worst person in existence, and you think we have sexual tension between us.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Niall sighed, suddenly finding his phone very interesting. You let out a huff of annoyance, turning to look out the window as a way to completely ignore the silent Shawn beside you.

It was silent between you and Shawn until you arrived to the hotel room again. You held each other’s hand while walking into the hotel and made your outside appearance as lovey dovey as it had been before. You immediately dropped his hand once in the elevator. As you stood silently beside him, you noticed how he flexed the hand that had just been holding yours- it was almost a Pride and Prejudice move, except you knew you weren’t Keira Knightley in this instance. Your mind wandered to what he’d said in the car; were you really just unappreciative of his help? Was he genuinely trying to help you? Haven’t you been seeing the genuinely good guy that he is recently?

“Two more days.” Shawn sighed, finally speaking once you were on the floor of your hotel rooms. He immediately went to his door, right beside yours.

“Shawn?” You called out to him and he stopped himself from opening the door.

“Yeah?” He replied.

“What did you mean?” You asked, before correcting yourself, “When you said you were trying to help? Were you?”

“Yes, a paparazzi grabbed you. What was I supposed to do? Just keep walking?” Shawn paused, “Besides you’re my girlfriend out there, aren’t you? It’s what a good boyfriend would do.” You felt your heart drop as he reminded you of the fact that this was all fake.

“Oh, yeah, that.” You nodded.

“What’s on your mind besides that?” He asked stepping towards you.

“It’s just strange to me that in a couple of days this will be over. We’ve spent everyday together for three weeks, so it’s going to be a little weird, right?”

“I thought you wanted this to be over.” His voice sounded off to you as he spoke, but you just couldn’t place it. It was an alien feeling that he was showing, whatever feeling it was- sadness, maybe?

“I guess I enjoyed the company.” You let out a small shrug, “It didn’t seem all that fake to me.”

“Yeah, I guess I enjoyed it too.” Shawn replied, looking away from you.

“Well, I should probably get going.” You said quietly.

“Wait, what did you mean?” Shawn asked you, “When you said that thing about the beer?”

“Do you really not remember?” You raised your eyebrows at him and he shook his head, making you explain further. “A few months before I met you over brunch, I met you briefly at one of Niall’s house parties and you were so wasted that you managed to spill beer all over me. I was embarrassed, my dress was absolutely trashed, and I took it out as anger at you, so I decided at brunch, when Niall told me that you’d blacked that night, to just keep my pride and be rude. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

“So you’re telling me that when Niall went off on me the day after his party because I had messed up his ‘perfect set up’ for me and this girl by spilling beer on her, that girl was you?”

“Yeah, I guess. Niall’s been trying to get us together for ages, and he went as far as setting up this whole pr stunt.”

“Leave it to Niall to set people up.” Shawn let out a laugh.

“I don’t hate you though, you know that right?” You asked, “It was just a mistake, and I shouldn’t hold that against you forever.”

“I mean you could, what can I do about it?” Shawn teased. “It means a lot that you don’t hate me anymore.”

“I thought maybe something should be real between us.” You turned your eyes to look away from him. You heart started to hurt as you felt so close to having something real with him again; you couldn’t bear to look at him now.

“I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, good night.” You replied back quietly before disappearing into your room. You pressed your back against the door, trying to reason with yourself that this was for the best. You couldn’t stand Shawn for two years, you can’t possibly like him now. Sighing, you shook your head and turned around to face the door. Without a plan in mind, you swung your door open to go see him one last time.

“Shawn,” You said, surprised to see him already at your door, his fast raised as if he was about to knock. He went to say something, but then decided against it and placed his hands on your cheeks carefully, pulling you into a kiss. Fully accepting your fate as completely falling for your fake boyfriend, you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, bringing him in closer to you.

“Sorry, thought I saw some cameras.” Shawn said, breathlessly as he pulled away from you. He was still close enough that you could feel his short breathes on your face.

“I think I see some more.” You teased.

He let out a small laugh before leaning down to kiss you. After sharing so many public kisses, you were finally content with the one occurring with absolutely no cameras around.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Second Chances - Ch. 32

Stand Unshaken

Warnings: swearing, blood, a lot of heartache

Word count: ~4500

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You stand near the river, watching the sun rising, your heart feels as though it’s gone. Not even broken, just gone. John calls your attention. 

“Y/N, let’s go! We gotta keep moving.” 

You blink, tears cascading down your cheeks. “John, I…” 

Without warning, your knees give out. When you land, your injured knee screams in agony. John runs to you. 

“Y/N, please. We gotta do this.” 

You look up at him, silhouetted in sunlight. His dark eyes glisten with unspilled tears. 

“Please, Y/N.” 

It takes all your strength and will to get up, but you do. John pats your right shoulder, glancing at your left which is still bleeding freely from where one of the Pinkertons shot you. You nod to him, signalling you’re ready. 

He runs ahead again, skirting alongside the Kamassa River. You follow to your best abilities, but it doesn’t take long before you have to stop again. John stops and glares at you as you’re hunched down, trying to catch your breath. 

“Come on, Y/N. We’ll steal some horses soon, get there faster.” 

You straighten up and look at him, feeling like you’re about to fall to pieces again. You look to your right and there, in a clearing bathed in golden sunlight, stands a stag. His head is bowed as he grazes, but when your eyes land on him, he lifts his head, showing huge proud antlers. Your mind automatically goes to Arthur and how you just left him on the mountain to die. 

The stag gazes at you for what feels like an eternity. Finally, it blinks and turns, walking slowly and calmly into the trees back in the direction you came from. From somewhere in the corners of your subconscious, a voice echoes. It’s the voice of the blind man you met a couple of weeks back. 

“When the golden stag lifts his head, that is when you must go backwards rather than forward,” the voice says. Understanding rushes through you. It finally makes sense what he was saying. You have to go back. You’re meant to go to Arthur.

“Y/N!” John hollers. 

You look at him, your face set in determination. “Go, John. Find your family. I have to go back.” 

“You gonna let yourself get killed? Y/N, come on! Arthur didn’t want that for you.” 

You sigh, trying to keep yourself together. You straighten up as much as you can, Arthur’s hat shading you from the bright light. 

“I know what I’m doing, John. Now go. Go and watch Jack grow up, try and make Abigail happy. She loves you more than you know.”

John looks at you pleadingly. “Y/N-”

“Just go! They need you more than I do, and to be honest, you have more to live for than I ever did. Just please, for me, go and live a good life, okay?”

“You wanna go back and get killed, fine. But all it will mean is that Arthur died for nothing.” 

“No, John. He… he died for you. And so am I.” 

Before he has the opportunity to say another word, you run off as quick as your exhausted body will allow, back towards the forest. John calls your name, but you ignore him and eventually he stops calling. As you reach the trees, you look back and find he’s gone. You sigh, resolved to what you’re heading into. 

The trees provide ample shade and cover as you run, retracing your steps. You never should have left that goddamn mountain, no matter what Arthur said. If you don’t end up dying today, you’ll never forgive yourself for leaving him there. You just pray that by some power or force, he hasn’t died yet. Could it be possible he’s still breathing?

As you think about the circumstances in which you parted, tears begin pouring down your cheeks again. You don’t let it stop you though. You have to keep going. You push your injured and tired body on, tripping occasionally. Every time you do, it gets harder and harder to get back to your feet, but the thought of finding Arthur alive pushes you on. 

A shot suddenly rings out, a thin oak you’d just passed exploding. It brings you to a stop. From out of the bushes comes Micah, pointing his pistols at you, his face heavily bruised and bleeding.

“Ah, hello Mrs. Morgan. Or should I say, Morgan’s widow? I was hoping I’d see you again.”

“Micah, you son of a bitch.” 

He chuckles. “Always did have a mouth on you, miss. I gotta say, I admire that in a woman.” He holsters one of the pistols, sneering at you. 

“You sold us out,” you snarl, your hand brushing against the butt of your revolver. “You killed Mac, Davey, Jenny, Lenny and Hosea.” 

He laughs again. “You left one more name out, miss.” 

You pause, unsure of who he means. You look behind him, expecting to see Dutch. Instead, Cleet and Joe are there, pointing their rifles at you.

“Dutch-” you begin. 

“Oh, Dutch is fine, far as I know. Last time I saw him was right before I shot Arthur in the head.” 

Your heart drops and you suddenly feel cold. He laughs again. 

“That’s right, miss. To be honest, I didn’t think it’d be that hard to kill him. I’ve been trying for some time. I knew quite a bit about Dutch and his boys before I even met him. I must admit, I was jealous. The man has talent at being a notorious outlaw. Has a certain level of charisma few can achieve. Colm told me all  about him.” 

“Colm? Colm’s been dead a while.” 

He laughs again, slowly pacing in a large circle around you. “Now come on, Y/N. Thought you was smart. I was one of Colm’s boys long before I met Dutch. But he didn’t have the drive or the talent of ol’ Dutch, so I got out before he had the chance to cut me off. That was when I met Dutch.” 

You keep a firm eye on Micah, trying to think of a way to kill him. Your best bets right now are to keep him talking, keep him distracted. He obviously doesn’t find you as much of a threat, otherwise you’d already be dead. 

“I’m guessing you kept in touch with some of Colm’s boys though?”

“Well of course. Cleet and Joe were part of his gang too, until Colm was hung and his gang fell apart. But I was able to leak info on both Dutch and Colm through them. Gotta say, it was entertaining for a while to see them running in circles like that.” 

Micah adjusts his hold on his pistol. “I knew right when I met Dutch he’d be easy to manipulate. He saw my talents, what I could do. Knew I could be an asset. But when he introduced me to Arthur and Hosea, I knew they’d have to go before I could do anything to Dutch. They were his voices of reason, the one thing that kept him from falling over the edge.”

“So you were planning for them to die all along?” 

“Never did like either of them much, to be honest. Hosea never had any spine, and Arthur, well, he always thought he was better than everyone else, always too big for his britches. But Dutch trusted his advice, so I knew he’d have to go. I tried to take care of him clear back after he busted me out of the Strawberry prison. I met one of my old buddies from Colm’s gang up there, and he was in my cell. He thought I was still close to Colm, never was very bright, so he spilled all about a stage robbery. 

“After Arthur busted me out, I got word to Cleet and Joe that Arthur and I would rob the stage and have Colm set up his own trap. Thought killing Arthur would be easy, but of course he survived. Like a cockroach.” 

Micah begins a new circle around you, Cleet and Joe slowly getting closer to you. He continues, “I knew I’d have to be more clever to take Arthur out, so I came up with the plan for Colm to snag him and turn him in to the Blackwater bounty hunters. I was sure Dutch would go rescue him and either he or Colm would end up dead. It went perfectly to plan too until you had to go and rescue him. After that, I knew I’d have to come up with something really good to take Arthur out.”

“But you were in the Pinkertons pockets?” 

He smiles again. “That’s how you choose to see it. They offered me my freedom and even quite a bit of money if I brought them Dutch or Hosea, so I told them about the Blackwater ferry job. Only Dutch and Hosea got away and the Pinkertons refused to give me what they promised. Said Dutch either had to be shot or hung before they’d keep their end. I spent a lot of time thinking of a new trap.  

“Then Dutch met Bronte and got fooled by him. When I saw how angry he was, I could see the cracks. The only thing keeping him together was Hosea. Arthur had a hand in it too, but Hosea truly was the one thing guiding Dutch. So I told the Pinkertons about the bank robbery and what Hosea’s plan was. And that trap was sprung perfectly, I couldn’t have planned it better.” 

You’re shaking by this point. How dare he do this to Hosea, to Arthur, everyone? Micah laughs again as he sees how you take the news. 

“But you ended up in Guarma,” you say. “Something tells me that wasn’t planned.” 

He licks his lips. “No, that wasn’t. But I played my part, pretended to be a good boy. When we got back though, Milton found me and offered me double the cash. Oh, the money, Y/N. If you were offered that amount in exchange for leaving Arthur, you’d do it.” 

“No I wouldn’t. Arthur is one of the few people in this world you can’t put a price on.” 

Micah smiles again. “How hard it must be for you, knowing he’s dead. Ah, he truly was a good man. How hard he tried to keep Dutch’s head from spinning. How he loved you. But when he announced that you two were getting married, I knew the only way to take him down was through you.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Joe shifts nervously behind Micah. 

“I set the trap that ended with you getting that pretty little cut across your face. Must admit, it didn’t end the way it was supposed to. Joe messed up, he and George were supposed to kill you. I figured if you were dead, Arthur would be so hurt and turned around by your sudden absence, he’d be easy to get rid of. Turns out you’re just as stubborn when it comes to dying as he was.”

“You goddamn traitor,” you say, your eyes tearing in anger. “After all the gang has done for you. After Dutch took you in, fed you, paid you and this is how you repay him?”

“I’m a survivor, Y/N. Ain’t no one out there looking after me except my damn self, so I’m gonna do whatever I can for me.” 

You can feel the tension rising in the air, the inevitable ending coming. You flex your hands, preparing yourself. 

“Oh, Y/N. You can’t imagine my delight in this. Morgan was a huge pain in my ass for far too long. Even though he was on the verge of death when I found him, he gave me quite a beating. Maybe, as a final gesture of how I appreciated him, I’ll take you before killing you.” 

Your heart races faster as you realize what he intends to do to you. 

“I’d like to see you try, Micah,” you snarl, trying to sound braver than you feel. 

You predict what he’s going to do and just as he aims down at your leg to take you down, you roll and dodge to the side. As he aims again, you charge him, slamming your body into his, forcing him down. The pistol flies from his hand. Cleet and Joe are about to fire when Micah yells to them.

“Do nothing! She’s mine!” 

He punches you in the face hard, throwing you off. Slightly dazed, you try to get up but he crawls on top of you, wrapping his hands around your throat and squeezing. One hand releases you briefly so he can remove your revolver from its holster and tosses it to the base of a tree. You grapple with his hands, but it’s fruitless, so you shove your fingers into his eyes and he lets you go, crying out in pain. You then ram your uninjured knee into his groin, which allows you to toss him off. You get up and dart towards the pistol, but Cleet’s foot comes out of nowhere, connecting with your cheek. Stars erupt in your eyes and you fall down again. A heavy weight slams down on your back, keeping you pinned.

“Oh, you’re a fighter, Y/N. It’s gonna make this all the much more satisfying.” Micah reaches down and grabs you by the throat again, but you pull out your knife and rake it across his arm, forcing him to release you. The weight on your back disappears, allowing you to get to your feet. 

Micah slams into you, pinning you against the tree. He wrestles the knife from your hand, throwing it into a bush. Then, his bruised face enraged, he places a hand over the wound on your upper left arm and squeezes, causing you to cry out in pain as your arm feels like it’s about to fall off. 

“You little bitch,” he growls. With his free hand, he grabs you by the throat again. You raise your right hand, trying to prod his eyes again but he releases your left arm momentarily to slap it away, still squeezing your throat. The sides of your vision are beginning to fade to black. 

Suddenly, the sound of a pistol firing rings out and blood explodes from Micah’s side. He releases you, stepping back in shock and you slide down to the bottom of the tree, trying to remember how to breathe. 

From behind a boulder, Dutch walks out, aiming his pistols at Micah. 

“You shot me, Dutch. You-” 

“You betrayed me, Micah, betrayed us,” Dutch growls. He must have heard everything. 

Even though your vision is blurry, you look down and see your revolver’s gold barrel peaking through the leaf litter. You pick it up and shoot Micah in the chest until the barrel’s empty. His throat makes a gurgling sound as he steps back again, blood spilling from his chest. He looks at Dutch and then falls, his body twitching. Cleet and Joe run off as Dutch fires at them, but they get away. 

You lower the gun, your entire body flooding with pain. Dutch turns slowly to look at you and then he holsters his pistols. He glances at Arthur’s hat, still on your head. 

“Mrs. Morgan, I-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Dutch, and help me up.” 

He sighs and approaches you, grabbing your extended hand. You get to your feet, groaning in pain. Dutch looks as though he’s about to take you in his arms to help you walk but you slap him away, Micah’s words burning in your ears. 

“Arthur,” you gasp, glaring at him. “Is he…?”

“I… I don’t know. I… he…” 

“Micah says you were there when he...” 

Dutch swallows. “I didn’t see him die. He was on his way out, no doubt and I… I walked away.” 

You take a few steps back from him, wanting nothing more than to rip his throat out. However, you know you’d be dead at this moment if it weren’t for him.

“Get out of here, Dutch. But just know that if I see you again, I’ll be there to kill you.” 

He looks at you sadly for a brief moment and then walks away. You watch him go to be sure he won’t turn on you until he disappears through the trees. 

You’re alone again, and the weight of everything and the physical excursions slam into you, forcing you to bend down again. You don’t take a moment though before you’re picking up your revolver and knife. You have to find Arthur. Micah was lying. He didn’t shoot him, he couldn’t have. You won’t believe it until you see him. 

You continue walking on, running when you can stand it. It’s late morning by the time the mountain comes into view. Your body screams at you, begging for you to stop and rest, but you don’t. You can’t. 

You climb up the mountainside again, just as you did before when the Pinkertons were chasing you. After what feels like a monumental effort, you find the ledge where Arthur said good-bye. After inspecting the rocks and grass growing on it, there’s definitely signs of a struggle. On the rock wall, there’s a spot of blood. Then you see the impression of a body lying in the dirt. Leading away from it and up alongside the ledge, which winds up the mountainside, is a trail of blood. You follow it, curving around the bend and then you see him.

Arthur’s propped up in a sitting position against the ledge wall. Did Micah drag him there? You run the last few steps and then fall to your knees, ignoring the pain from your left knee, as tears overtake you. 

He’s covered in blood from the wound on his hip and his face is badly bruised and cut, but there’s no bullet. You sigh, a little relieved that Micah was at least lying about that part. His eyes are closed and his lips are dry. You grab his shoulders and shake them, crying out his name. 

“Please,” you beg. “Arthur, honey it’s me. I’m here. You can’t die!” 

He doesn’t respond, so you press a finger to his throat. To your surprise, you feel a pulse. It’s weaker than it should be, but it’s there. 

“Arthur!” you cry out. Then, you reach into your satchel and pull out an almost empty bottle of rum. You uncork it and turn the bottle over above his face so the liquid splashes him. He suddenly gasps and his eyes flick open. 

“You’re alive!” you cry out, throwing the bottle. He sucks in a pained breath, his eyes staring up into the sky. It’s almost like he can’t see you. Trying to keep yourself in one piece, you press a hand to his cheek. 

“Arthur, it’s me. Can you see me?” 

He takes in a few more deep breaths and then his eyes finally move, landing right on you. He opens his mouth to speak but only a small croak comes out. Realizing he must be thirsty, you take out another bottle of alcohol, pouring a small amount into his open mouth. He winces as it goes down his throat, but then he licks his lips and closes his eyes, still breathing heavily. 

“Arthur?” 

He looks at you again. “I told you to get out of here,” he says with a deep groan.

With a loud sob, you touch his face with your hand. “I know, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t live with myself knowing you died here alone.” 

He lifts his hand to brush your face. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Thank you for coming back.” 

He winces in pain again, dropping his hand. You study his face more, realizing there’s a red tint to his skin. The sun is burning him. 

“We need to get you off this mountain,” you say, looking around as if the answer of where and how you’ll move him will be there.

“Where?” he asks in a weak voice. 

You think for a moment. “Hamish. Hamish isn’t too far away. Arthur, we’ll go to Hamish.” 

Arthur closes his eyes again. “I can’t walk, darlin’. My… my hip.” 

“No, you can’t. But I can. I’ll get him and we’ll come back for you. Arthur, can you at least keep yourself hydrated?” 

He nods, opening his eyes again. You touch his face briefly before getting to your feet again. You reach into your satchel and pull out more bottles of whiskey. “I’ll be right back, gonna get something before I fetch Hamish.” 

Before he has the chance to ask what you’re doing, you run down the ledge and down the mountain and back to where Artemis and Rannoch died. When you see their bodies, your heart breaks. But you can’t allow yourself to mourn, not now, not yet. Arthur needs you. You slide their saddle bags off and sling them over your shoulder, struggling a bit with their combined weight. Somehow though, you manage to make it back to where Arthur is. 

He watches you intently as you take out his tent from Artemis’s saddlebag and position it over him, shading him from the sun. You make sure to keep the opening free so it doesn’t get too hot. When it’s done, you kneel beside him and unbuckle his pants, to which he questions. You tell him to relax and open his jeans and his union suit to reveal the wound above his hip. It looks awful, but it doesn’t look infected yet. You pour some whiskey onto it, making Arthur cry out. You apologize profusely and then place a strip of cloth to soak up what bleeding there still is. You rebuckle his pants in order to hold the fabric in place and keep pressure on the wound. 

Just as you finish and are about to announce you’re going to get Hamish, Arthur grabs your leg. 

“Sweetheart, come here.”

You look at him, worried. “What is it?” 

He slides a hand behind your neck and pulls you down, kissing your lips. His lips are hot, too hot and after a moment you pull away. 

“Arthur, I’ll be back. Hamish and I, we’ll come get you, okay? I promise, I’ll be back.” 

He nods and you take off his hat, about to give it to him when he grabs it and puts it back on your head. “You need it more than I do right now.”

You nod and kiss him again. “Don’t die on me now, you hear?” 

His lips stretch into a small smile. “I ain’t gonna die. I got you by my side.” 

You blink, a few more tears escaping, and stroke his face again. Then, with another enormous effort, you get to your feet and leave the tent. You throw Arthur another glance and promise him you’ll come back. He nods in acknowledgement but says nothing. He closes his eyes again and rests his left hand over the wound. 

You turn and head down the mountainside again. Your body is so tired and hurt that even your scar from when the Murfree shot you in the leg burns. It causes you to limp even more, but you keep going. Finally, you hit the road, but of course no one’s there. Sighing heavily, you turn down the path and begin heading down the path toward O’Creagh’s Run. 

After only taking a few steps, you hear the sound of a horse coming down the path towards you. Looking behind, you see a man trotting on a small liver chestnut morgan. 

“You there, can you help me out?” you call out.

“I don’t need or want your company, now get lost.” 

Without hesitating, you pull out your revolver and shoot him in the back of the head as he passes. He falls off and his horse stops. You’re surprised it didn’t spook and run off, but you approach it, glaring down at the man’s corpse. 

“Coulda been nice, buddy, but whatever. This is easier.” 

With some difficulty, you drag his body into a cluster of bushes and then go to the horse. He fumbles with his bit but doesn’t react otherwise, just looks at you with a steady eye. 

“Good boy,” you say, patting his neck and then climbing into the saddle. The effort is tremendously painful, but you get settled soon after and then kick the morgan into a canter. You silently acknowledge your luck when the lake comes into view. What would have taken you an hour to do on foot takes you a matter of minutes. 

Buell stands outside the small cabin and he rumbles in greeting when he sees you. Patting the morgan’s neck, you dismount but your foot gets caught in the stirrup due to your exhaustion and you fall, pain coursing through your entire body. 

The sound of uneven footsteps comes from the cabin and then Hamish’s voice calls out. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here? What’s going on?” 

You look up, tears leaking from your eyes again. “Arthur… needs help. Please. I…” 

“Hey, take it easy.” He kneels down next to you and helps you sit up. “Where is he?” 

You take a few deep breaths and tell him. He nods. “Okay. Can you ride a little more? It’ll be faster for me to get to him if you can show me where he is.” 

You nod and try to get up, but you can’t do it on your own. Hamish grips you under your arms with surprising strength and lifts you up, then he helps you back into the morgan’s saddle. He mounts Buell and grabs the reins. 

“Alright, Y/N. Come on, show me where he is.” 

Without a word, you guide the morgan into a steady trot back the way you came. A few moments later, the mountain comes into view. 

“I heard gunfire coming from this direction. You two have anything to do with it?” Hamish asks. 

“I’ll explain later,” you croak as you guide him up the mountainside on the morgan. When you reach the ledge, you stop, hoping Arthur’s still breathing. Hamish helps you get off and then you limp painfully around the edge of the mountain until the tent comes into view. 

“There,” you point. Hamish pats your back and goes to the tent opening, peering in. “Well, Mr. Morgan, you got yourself quite a girl. Looks like she’s been through hell and back. Course, you don’t look much better.” 

A small groan comes from inside the tent. Hamish enters it and you hobble to the opening, grateful to find Arthur’s responsive to Hamish. His eyes immediately find you and you start taking a few steps towards him when your legs finally give out and you collapse. The last thing you see is an eagle soaring above as Arthur calls your name.

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳24

Pairing: Zuko x OC

AU: Adult-Verse

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 4500+

Notes: I noticed that on Quotev (I post there and Wattpad if you guys didn’t know) we’re so close to hitting 300 hearts, which is an overwhelming feeling because I never thought I would ever hit that point! I plan on working on a short chapter as a thank you gift for sticking around and supporting my writing journey. It’s the only way I know how to say thank you for the love and support I’ve gotten <3 

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! It’s a bit sad (you’ll see why...). But I want to get your opinions and comments! Thank you for everything; the comments and support, and take care of yourselves!

Masterlist ︳23 ︳ Bonus pt. 1

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person.

The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Quatervois

(French/n.) a crossroads; a critical decision or turning point in one's life.

 ~ Fire Lord Zuko ~

            Marriage.

            My jaw dropped before I could stop, sitting upright as I leaned forward, looking at Aang dead in the eye. Marriage.

            “Aang…of course I’ll support your decision, anything you need, as Fire Lord - as a friend, I’ll do whatever I can,” I spoke with the stupidest grin on my face.

            The look of relief that washed over Aang, slouching forward as he laughed lightly, “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.” He muttered, shaking his head as he rubbed his face in relief.  He looked as if he finally told me his biggest secret, and in all fairness, it was a big deal.

            Marriage - fuck, we’re getting old. A sigh escaped me, as I let my elbows rest on the study.

            It was absurd to think that we’ve reached a point in our lives where things like this – things like marriage and children was now the main focus of our conversations. That our old days of goofing off and being a group of kids were slowly disappearing. And that by next year – Aang and Katara may officially be married.

            “Have you told Sokka or Yue yet?” I asked, watching the way Aang fidget in his seat.

            “I told Hakoda a few months back, and he gave me his blessings. But I haven’t told Sokka or Yue yet…”

            “Well, I can tell you Yue will be overjoyed. She loves you.”

            Aang smiled brightly, hearing my words, “I love Katara, and I really needed to just tell you before I told them. But I think you’re right; I don’t think I’ll have much trouble with Sokka or Yue…” I nodded my head. I didn’t blame him one bit - I would be scared shitless too.

            Aang wasn’t just going to be the ‘Avatar,’ he was going to be a husband – and maybe even a father in the future. And in my books, being a husband or father was scarier than being the Avatar.

            A soft giggle caught my attention, and without a second thought, my body started twisting in my chair to the open window behind me. An automatic reaction, my mind and body already knew that laugh all too well – learned to crave it. It was an amorous giggle, light and innocent, a sound that effortlessly carried in the gentle breezes – Yue.

            Toph was Earthbending away, fixing the waterfall to its glory with ease, Suki giving her creative input. But more importantly, I could see Yue.

            She was hugging Kiyi in her arms under one of the cherry blossom trees, smiling radiantly. Her white robes clashed against Kiyi’s scarlet dress, the sun illuminating, making her seem like a divine spirit.

            She’s beautiful – so fucking beautiful. My breath hitch slightly, just looking at her. “When are you going to pop the question?”

            My eyes widen, turning back to face Aang, confused by his words, “Sorry what?” I blubbered, taken off guard. Aang snickered, crossing his arms as he raised his brows at me, “You and Yue – married.”

            “Oh cut me some slack,” I grumbled, looking down at the paperwork on my desk, trying to look busy to hid my flushed cheeks. But also because I didn’t want to admit it, how I dreamt of it – marriage, a family. If you told me that I would be here, blushing over a woman five years ago, I would’ve slapped you silly. But now, the thought of spending the rest of my life with her didn’t make me bat an eyelash.

            “All I’m gonna say is good luck – cause I’m pretty sure Sokka is plotting your death as we speak.” I snorted, looking up at Aang with a look of disbelief, but the grin Aang shot back confirmed my suspicions. “He’s still mad!?” I huffed, shaking my head as I pinched my nose. Talk about not letting things go.

            “Dude – she was topless, on your lap. If Suki wasn’t there, I could 100% say you would’ve been murdered.”

            “But SHE started it!” I groaned, throwing my hands into the air in defeat as Aang chuckled, “The best part is I believe you.” I leaned forward, pointing at Aang fervently, “Then why aren’t you helping me out if you know how much trouble Yue is!?”

            Aang leaned back, laughing as he shrugged his arms, “Because unlike you, I go back home with Sokka while you’re at least a good weeks distance.” I let out a grumble, cursing under my breath as I sat back down, Avatar my ass – he’s only out here protecting his own ass.

            “How did the walk with Kayto go last night, I didn’t get to ask Yue...”

            I rolled my eyes, “Fine from what I gathered. But Kayto…”

            “He’s trouble – isn’t he?”

            “More than any of us know,” I muttered.

            My head fell into the palms of my hands, huffing as guilt consume me. I shouldn’t have let Yue go alone, I knew better.

            “Two more days, that’s it, then they leave and…” I peeked through my fingers, waiting for Aang to finish his sentence, “How is the beach house going? Is it almost complete, do you think you two can go?” My hands covered my face once again, the abandoned beach house.

            Well, it wasn’t ‘abandoned’ anymore.

            It was one of the many side projects I decided to take on, a project involving the old vacation house on Ember Island. It had been years since I’ve stepped foot in that place, the last time being to camp out when we snuck into the Fire Nation to take down Ozai.

            I let it sit, rot - planning on demolishing the damn building within months of my rein; it held nothing but miserable and pitiful memories anyway. But Iroh convinced me otherwise, ‘let it stand, it’s doing no harm or good where it sits. You never know where your heart may lay in the future.’

            And like usual – Iroh was right.

            The moment we arrived in the Fire Nation, I commissioned the restoration of the old family home, stripping it from its previous title of ‘Ozai’s beach house’ to mine.

            Correction - ours.

            I pulled my hands down as I scratched my head. It was embarrassing, how much Yue had me wrapped around her finger unknowingly. But I couldn’t help it, just imagining the look on her face when I tell her I got the week off. Only me and her, in our family vacation home, a new set of memories to be made, “For the most part, yeah - it’s done. A few spare bedrooms have to be completed, but we could leave in the next few days to vacation.”

            “Did you tell Yue yet?”

            “…No…”

            “Are you going to tell her…?”

            “What’s with you wanting me and her to get married, go on this vacation and what not?” I shyly grumbled, huffing to myself once again as I gazed out the window. Suki and Toph were arguing, spirits only know about what, while Yue was helping Kiyi plant some flowers in the gardens with some of the gardeners.

            Family…

            Aang rolled his eyes, “Oh, how things have come full circle!” Aang cried, standing up and stretching his arms above him with a cheeky grin. I gave him a look, only causing Aang’s smile to largen, “You and Sokka used to tease me all the time about being in love with Katara. Now, look at you-you're worse than me!”

            “Oh shut up before I change my mind about helping you out with that bloody wedding of yours!” I hissed, crossing my arms in annoyance as I stripped my gaze from Yue, but I could still hear her laughing from the open window – fuck am I whipped.

            Aang snorted loudly, turning around, walking towards the door with a playfully wave, “Whatever, lover boy.”

            My eyes narrowed, flicking my fingers towards him, a little flicker of fire darting. With a twist of Aang’s wrist, he blew out the spark with wind, grinning madly. “Have fun getting married without me.” I puffed, only for Aang to laugh, “Seriously, Zuko…”

            I looked up at Aang, his cheery smile softening as he gazed at me, “Thanks for everything…for helping me with Republic City, this wedding stuff…” I leaned back in my chair, nodding at his words as Aang spoke.

            “And thank you for taking care of Yue…if I had known that you two would’ve hit it off as well you two did, I would’ve introduced you so much earlier.”

            I chuckled, leaning over my desk once again, getting ready to get back to work, “The least I could do after trying to capture you for how long.” I muttered under my breath.

            “Oh…and just to let you know…Appa may have eaten a tree or two in the gardens -BYE~.” My eyes widen, standing up straight but Aang was quicker, darting out the door with a loud laugh. I rubbed my temples in frustration, letting out a low hiss, but it didn’t take long for a small amused chuckle to escape me.

            This was my life now.

            And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

 ~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

            I couldn’t stop laughing, dirt flying everywhere as Kiyi dug a small hole to plant the flowers. It was fascinating how children managed to get dirty so quickly. All we had to do was dig tiny holes, but there seemed to be more dirt on Kiyi than in the gardens.

            On the other hand, Toph and Suki continued bickering behind me.

            “I think you should make the waterfall a tad bit bigger.” Suki insisted as Toph frowned in annoyance, “BIGGER? Are you nuts, or are you nuts?” Toph huffed. I smiled, looking over my shoulder as they argued like an old married couple.

            I never realized how much of Sokka’s creativity had rubbed off onto Suki, spitting out artistic lingo that she could’ve only learned from the great Sokka himself. But it was adorable, how they shared quirks as the years have passed. Even Katara got a bit goofier, not so strict the longer she has been with Aang.

            I wonder…have I changed since being with Zuko? Has Zuko changed since being with me?

            “LOOK YUE. I planted a giant family. This plant is mommy, daddy, Zuzu, and this is you and me~!” She cheered, proudly pointing at the flowers planted in the soil. I smiled softly, letting my hand run along her messy bun, “It’s wonderful, thank you button.” I hummed, planting a peck upon her forehead. Family…

            “Imperial Consort Ying Yue.”

            My head shot upwards, a few guards standing in front of us. My brows pinched, nodding my head as I began standing up, “Yes?” What in the world-

            They moved aside, green flooding my vision, “Kayto…”

            He bore a radiant smile, his hands pleasantly interlocking in front of him as he tilted his head to the side, “May I borrow you for a moment? I’ll be quick flower, I promise.” His long black hair was tied up with ribbon; his green robes were a tad bit more casual than usual. But I also noticed a few scratches along his sun-kissed skin; I really did a number on him.

            Kiyi gazed up at us with big eyes and I could hear heavy footsteps behind me, “Not without us.” Suki grumbled Toph right on her heel.

            Kayto sighed, eyeing Suki and Toph with exasperation. But it was the subtle movement behind him that caught my attention, servants carrying bags? Wait a minute – is he leaving? But they were set to depart in two more days…

            I stepped forward, looking over my shoulder at Suki and Toph, “I’ll be fine.” Their eyes widen, frowning at my response.

            Something was off with Kayto.

            Logic would say to not bother with Kayto, ignore him – it was not like you guys literally just fought yesterday. But I couldn’t do that. My eyes studied his posture; he seemed different. And in all honesty, while Zuko and the gang despised him – I couldn���t, and I hated myself for it.

            I cursed at myself inwardly, frustration eating away at me how I wanted to be like Lia or Toph – outspoken and tough, not so forgiving. But I couldn’t, no matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t.

            Kayto gazed at me - stunned, “Really?”

            My head slowly nodded, dusting off my dress from the remaining specks of dirt as I stepped forward, “Quickly.” I sternly spoke. Suki placed her hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “Are you…sure?” She muttered softly, giving Kayto side eyes but I nodded. Something in my gut told me – told me to talk with him. The things I do, Zuko really is a man of patience to love me.

            “I’ll be okay, let's go?” I hummed, stepping forward, my hand leaving Kiyi’s hair.

            Toph and Suki gazed over me with hesitance, debating on whether or not they should stop me, but it was too late. I found myself walking with Kayto along the stoned path, not too far from them, but enough to speak in private. I could feel the lingering stares, not just from the gang, but from the servants, the guards, the gardeners – seemingly trying to tell me with their eyes that this was a BAD idea.

            Oh, the perks of having a soft heart.

            Kayto eyes looked down, quietly walking down the paths with me, not trying to hold my hand or engage in conversation. He was even cautious not to bump his shoulder with mine as he walked. The politeness, the gentleman-like behaviour – it was frightening. And a part of me strangely wanted him just to flirt.

            Anything besides this.

            Was something wrong? I puffed, why did it matter anywho?

            “You never told Zuko - petal.” He spoke, his voice barely a whisper as he abruptly stopped underneath a cherry blossom tree, shading us from the scorching heat of the sun. My feet froze, turning slightly to gaze at him, but his eyes weren’t on me. He watched the way the blossoms cascaded with the gentle breeze, falling at our feet. I sighed softly, playing with my fingers as I shook my head, “No…”

            “Why not little flower? I attacked you.”

            I opened my mouth but shut it quickly. Why? Why didn’t I tell Zuko? I had the chance, a chance to really expose him, but I didn’t. A frustrated huff escaped me as I shrugged my shoulders, pulling my arms around my waist, trying to comfort myself. “Would it really matter, if I did?”

            “It would’ve been a chance for you to put me in jail – we both know your Fire Lord would love that.”

            “Do you want that?”

            Kayto shut his mouth, gazing over me with conflicting emotions. It was strange; it was like something about last night made him change. What happened? He just wasn’t the same, and I found myself instinctively going closer to him, my hand unknowingly falling over his arm. He flinched, but I never moved, as I let my hand rest over his forearm.

            A pregnant pause fell between us, only for him to place his hand over mine a few seconds later. Cold – his hand is so cold.

            “Are you and the King leaving? Zuko told me you were leaving later…”

            “Just me, petal. I have certain tasks to attend to; I’m leaving tonight.” I frowned, “No one got to say goodbye-”

            “I don’t think Zuko is going to miss me much.” I scoffed, laughing softly as I shook my head, “That may be true, but I would like to say goodbye.”

            “You’re a strange one little flower…” Kayto muttered, but a soft smile danced upon his lips, and I smiled back. “I don’t know what you see in Zuko, how I would kill to have a woman like you by my side.”

            “And I don’t understand why you despise Zuko, how you don’t see what I see.”

            “You’re so in love with that man – willing to risk your damn life for him. You knew the risks you were taking, going on that walk with me. You knew.”

            “And I would do it again for him.”

            “I know…” He muttered, trailing off, running small circles along the top of my hand.

            That was it – his eyes.

            They were different. Usually, Kayto’s green eyes were intense, an emerald that could seemingly pierce through someone’s soul, but this time – they weren’t as fierce. They were softer, a paler shade. “I should’ve killed you – last night…” He said slowly, shaking his head, he isn’t lying.

            “…And why didn’t you?”

            “The same reason you didn’t kill me.” He answered. A soft sigh escaped me, as I gazed down at the floor. We were standing close to each other, our feet almost touching as the blossoms painted the ground. “Tell Zuko next time he lets you go on a walk with me, I ain’t returning you back.”

            I looked at him, Kayto crossing his arms, my hand dropping from him as he leaned forward, “Do me a favour flower, and close your eyes.”

            I pouted, shaking my head, “What? Are you crazy?”

            “Come on, flower, do it.”

            “So you can kill me?”

            “I had my chance yesterday, and I didn’t, so trust me.”

            Trust – something that people earned — worked hard for. Sokka would always say that my problem was I gave it away like flowers, only to have my heart broken. And Sokka right, but despite knowing that, I found myself closing my eyes.

            A soft breath hit my cheek, something moist brushing along my jaw, my scar. Oh my gosh, he’s - I gasped, my eyes widen just in time for Kayto to pull away. He kissed my scar, “Now I can die a happy man.”

            I found myself blushing. “I-if Zuko saw that-” I hissed, but Kayto just laughed, shaking his head, “Like I said – I would die happy.”

            I huffed out, ready to yell his ear off but he didn’t give me a chance. He turned on his heel, walking away from me. His black ponytail swaying from side to side, cheekily waving as he gazed over his shoulder, “It was a pleasure meeting you Ying Yue – Imperial Consort of the Almighty Fire Lord.”

            I watched him, unable to utter a word.

            Because for once, since the moment I met him – he smiled.

            A genuine smile of happiness.

            I felt my heart squeeze, unable to mutter a word as his figure disappeared towards the servants, eagerly packing his bags for departure.

            “Wait-!”

            Kayto stopped for a second, gazing over his shoulder, waiting for me to speak. “B-before you go, would you like to stay for lunch, with Zuko and I?”

            Kayto chuckled, shaking his head with a soft look, “I’ll be fine – I can die happy.” He repeated once again, before turning the corner, out of sight.

            I knew what he was going to do.

            Please…don't-

            Soft hands wrapped around my waist, and I quickly gazed downwards, Kiyi hugging me from the side as she looked up with a giant pout, “Yue…why are you crying?”

            I forced a smile, wiping my cheeks with my sleeves. “Because nothing in this world is black and white anymore...” Kiyi frowned at my answer, tilting her head at my words, and in return, I sniffled.

            The world was gray – a disgusting mixture of black and white.

 ~ Azula ~

            “In two days?” I muttered under my breath, crossing my legs as I leaned back. Mai nodded her head, her arms crossed and her face void of any emotion – seemingly always wearing a mask, afraid of getting hurt.

            Yakone sighed, kicking the dirt underneath his feet as he listened in on our conversation. “Who else is going? The Avatar and the rest of imprudent friends?”

            Mai frowned, shaking her head as she let her fingers play with one of her many daggers, “No. Just them. Some sort of personal retreat.”

            I scoffed, “Zuzu has been taking a lot of time off. How strange, your niece seems to be quite the influence.” I laughed, a small smirk erupting from Yakone, “What can I say, we have mastered the art of human manipulation.”

            “So what’s the plan Azula?” Mai butted in, eyes narrowed.

            And I grinned.

            Mai was horrible at hiding her hatred for Zuzu’s girlfriend, gazing at the faint bruises that still painted Mai’s delicate skin. Deep purples staining the skin around her nose as she continued playing with the dagger. But it was her hatred that had me thriving – it’s easier to manipulate people when they want the same outcome as yourself.

            “Like what I did before – I’ll serve as a maid during their vacation. A personal maid to that bitch…” Yakone chuckled, “The Fire Nation Princess acting like a maid – oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

            I frowned, hissing at Yakone’s mocking words with my hands on my hips, “I didn’t fall. I’m overtaking the kingdom from the underbelly, isn’t that not what you’re doing -Yakone?”

            Yakone shrugged, ready to speak, but the soft sounds of footsteps stopped us from conversing. Everyone turned to face the noise, on guard. The bushes rumbled, my eyes scanning the greenery, only for Yakone to snarl, “What are you doing here, boy.”

            Kayto.

            His arms were crossed, observing us, but his eyes settled upon Mai. The way his brows pinched together, jaw-dropping as his green eyes flickered between us. “What is she doing here?” He spoke, confusion written on his face. I grinned, playfully wrapping my arm around her shoulders, Mai tensing under my grasp, despising the physical contact. “An ally.”

            “You’re the snitch…” He muttered, but the way he spoke. It wasn’t so much of happiness as it was of realization. The way his hands gripped his robes, eyes stripping away from us as he gazed at Yakone. Something was off; he seemed different.

            “Why did you come here? We were supposed to meet at the Earth Nation-”

            “I’m leaving tonight.”

            “And why is that?” Yakone scowled, stepping forward with narrowed eyes. Kayto rolled his eyes, “Politics. And just a fair warning the Earth King signed the papers.”

            My eyes widen, he failed.

            “You say what boy? That he SIGNED the papers?” Yakone roared. Kayto stepped back, eyes cautiously watching over Yakone. “This new Nation bullshit has nothing to do with me. Figure it out on your own – I’m done with it – all of it.”

            “You think you can just walk away?”

            “I’m doing that right now, aren’t I” Kayto taunted, turning on his heel as he began stepping away from Yakone. I could feel my stomach twist. Yakone raising his hand, Kayto utterly oblivious to the gesture, until Mai and I heard it – a sharp gasp.

            Kayto’s limbs stiffen, a choked wheeze escaping him as his arms and legs raised off the ground, his feet barely skimming the earth.

            “I warned you. That if the Earth King signs those papers, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”

            “D-do it.” Kayto hissed, struggling the breath. Yakone’s fingers twitched, a painful grunt escaping Kayto, he’s going to kill him.

            Mai watched over Yakone with fear, eyes wide, the most emotion I’ve seen come out of that girl in all the years I’ve known her. She’s never seen a Bloodbender before, and she looked absolutely petrified.

            “You think you can just walk in and walk out of here? That you can suddenly be a good guy?” Yakone shouted. The way Kayto’s limbed stretched, his chest heaving in pain as Yakone crushed him from the inside out. “I’m gonna kill you, boy, and I’m going to love it. Every. Single. Moment.”

            With a struggling breath, Kayto turned his head, his eyes lining up with Yakone. But his eyes weren’t filled with fear, no, he was smiling. “S-she’s nothing like you.” He gasped out, what is he-

            It echoed throughout the mountain - the sound of death.

            The birds stopped singing, the wind stilled, even the clouds blocked the sun’s glow as I unknowingly held my breath.

            Kayto’s eyes were no longer a lively green, but dull and gray – lifeless.

            Mai stilled, her hands gripping her body as she watched the way Yakone let his hands unravel, Kayto’s body hitting the ground like nothing more but trash.

            But the smile on Yakone’s face. He cracked his fingers and neck, rolling his shoulders back as he groaned in pleasure, “Nothing beats the satisfaction of feeling their last dying breath.”  

            He’s a monster.

            But another darker, more sinister, realization hit me.

            If this was the power, Yakone possessed…what was Ying Yue hiding?

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

[ofmidsummernights]

Hold! Who goes there? Why, is that Elphame Glaerun, the Governor of the Vailsteppes? They do look beguiling for a person of 4500 years. Don’t they call them the wise and visionary thaumaturge? I’ve heard they’re also devious and capricious though. Don’t take my word for it but they do look an awful lot like Michelle Hurd.

Basic Info

NAME: Elphame Glaerun

PRONUNCIATION: El-fame Glay-rune

TITLE: Governor || The Thaumaturge

AGE: 4500, looks around 50 in human years

PLACE OF ORIGIN: Rodarwen

FAMILY MEMBERS: None alive 

Physical Description

HEIGHT: 6′7

HAIR COLOR: Golden

EYE COLOR: Hazel

GENDER: Non-binary, They/Them

BUILD: Willowy

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES?: Exaggerated pixie-esque features due to Vailsteppe lineage. Long and sharply pointed ears, with gangly thin limbs and gnarled digits adorned with sharp nails. Their teeth are razor-like.

ANY HEALTH RELATED ISSUES?: None, as far as the eye can tell. 

The Vailsteppe Folk have a unique appearance when compared to other Vailar, owing to the distanced evolution invoked in their community through their dedicated worship of nature as well as the forbidden corners of the arcane.

They are hollow-cheeked and gaunt, their eyes and ears both larger as well as sharper in appearance than those of their kin; more adapted to sensing the delicacies in the sounds and sights of their surroundings, especially within the evening gloom of their canopy-shrouded forest. 

Their steps are feather-light, allowing them to move with nary any betrayal as to their doing so. They have long earned a reputation as shades of the forests, and are often referred to in the bedtime stories of human children in the form of skeletal specters that haunt the woods at night - the spirits of those who perished upon recklessly venturing there alone. 

Personality

Elphame carries the weight of their years with immense dignity and grace, moving with the fluid confidence of one who is effortlessly certain of their own intentions and affairs. They are prone to inviting lines of questioning into the means of others upon idle whim however, to invoke uncertainty even if only to watch the other party wrestle with newfound doubt and trepidation all for the sport of it.

They are predisposed towards fostering an intimidating presence when around others, and will rapidly move in subtle ways to establish their own perceived dominance within a public space - in such a way so as to ensure that all eyes are on them. To that end there is a degree of vanity within their manner, working in concert with an arrogance of self-conviction to forge a sense of cultivated superiority.

Within Elphame’s personality also lies the innate paradox that comes with the meld created between centuries of wisdom and and an insatiable appetite for mischief. They are at once insightful and playful, mature and petty, authoritative and rebellious - in essence their manner is an unpredictable collective of contradictions, which is most likely just how they would like it to be. 

Above all else Elphame loathes the notion of becoming known, or predictable - the moment they feel someone is perhaps getting too comfortable with them, or certain of their actions, they like to shake things up a little. Keeps things fresh, and fun.

Additional Info

THE NATURAL MANNER OF THINGS

Elphame is ardent in the belief that the natural manner of the world is to be governed not by governments and walls but rather solely through its own natural forces – nature and magic in tandem. They view the affairs and politics of other nations as entirely petty and irrelevant, believing that the only meaningful fate is for Vailar to be once again be freed into the whims of nature and the arcane.

As a result they are an available ally to dragons and fellow unorthodox mages, and a natural enemy to any organized institutions, governing bodies or state infrastructures promoting any form of social order.

INTRODUCE A LITTLE ANARCHY

Further to their macrocosmic perspective of the world and its functions, Elphame has a petty nature that can very much hinge upon and shift axis on a whim. To this end, there’s an innate delight they experience in invoking chaos in organized settings and provoking turbulence in otherwise staid or “boring” domains.

Due to this, they are a covert supporter and resource-laden backer available to members of the rebellion. They delight in the thought of the rebels making a resurgence, due to the absolutely sublime mess of things they provoked in communities all over the last time the movement rose to prominence.

THE HOUSE OF WONDERS

Elphame is a powerful mage with a widely famed – if ominously shrouded – reputation as a thaumaturge; a maker of miracles. As part of curating their own image as well as enhancing the perceived power lurking within House Glaerun, Elphame is always open to opportunities to further cement this impression of the depths of their magical aptitude.

They therefore run something of a personal business of granting such “miracles” for others – but always at a price. Whether it be a request for wealth, love, a chance for extended life, or a fatal curse upon an enemy they have no qualms; however one must be prepared to pay in tribute something of equal worth.

History

THE VAILSTEPPE FOLK

The Vailsteppe Folk have evolved over many thousands of years to become genetically distanced from their Vae kin, having become “pixie”-like in their features due to growing too close to nature in their highly involved magical practices. Having taken those practices too far for too long, they somewhat lost themselves to the intoxication of the very force they worship.

Gradually they became almost one with the forest and magic therein themselves, growing increasingly capricious, disinterested in the delicacies of national and international politics - as well as the will and word of the Council itself, even. Uniquely their sexual dimorphism has nigh on disappeared through this same process, and as a culture they have come to identify themselves as a nonbinary community. The Vailsteppe population is small, as the norm in their society is for children to only be conceived once or twice late in their 5000 year lives in order to secure inheritance upon their forebears’ passing.

KINGDOM

The Vailsteppe Folk’s love for the forest in which they dwell is reflected in their sigil. From their ancestral seat in Rodarwen do they govern the surrounding woodland out to the open steppe beyond. Their forests are dark, labyrinthine and tangled; their greatest defense being that one must intimately know the way to the city, lest they otherwise be lost forever in the shrouded gloom of the forest which otherwise threatens to lead even the most wary travellers astray. Their realm has long held a secluded, mysterious and removed reputation due to their location – and the fact that its denizens guard the secret of their veiled paths and hidden trails with utmost jealousy. They believe that their forest is that which had first sprung from Vailanwiel’s sacrifice those many eons ago.

FAMILY

House Glaerun is an old “family” that has been suspicious of centralized power and reclusive where it comes to outside affairs for as long as the records at Rodarwen can remember. Due to the way the Vailsteppe community now operates and perceives themselves, family has taken on an unorthodox form compared to other societies in Vailar.

A partner is merely one’s chosen to produce an heir with when twilight years at last approach, and surnames are now little more than indicators of those inheritances. One’s loyalty to the community and neighbours as a whole far outweighs that to those who share your surname.

Despite being mature in years, Elphame has shown no interest in considering a partner in order to produce an heir to secure their hereditary governorship with. Mysteriously, the Vailsteppe Folk appear neither concerned nor curious as to the reasons why.

MAGIC

Elphame is a practitioner of “low magic” with thousands of years in experience; their specialty has been in Divination magic, wherein they have particular affinity for oneiromancy, geomancy and astromancy. The hedge witch that started Elphame on their journey into the arcane is long deceased, and though in their youth Elphame once had ties to the Magaesterium these were likewise severed in the distant past – the reason for this being concerns and objections over Elphame’s experimental forays into forbidden, darker magics in their increasingly unsettling apathy for collateral consequences. Elphame is a proficient practitioner of blood magic – it is the source of their “wonders”, and a method they are more than happy to use in pursuit of both their long-term goal of returning Vailar to nature, and to have a little fun on the way there.

[kinsbin]

My Life With You

Title: My Life With You Word Count: 4500 Pairing: Star/Kray [si/canon]

Summary: Kray and Star have been dating for a very long time. Kray decides its finally time to take the next step in their relationship, and plans the perfect day to do it.

A/N: Commission for @starscloset! i super duper loved writing this for her and I hope ya’ll enjoy this cute couple *w*

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Star bit her lip as she watched the clock that hung on the edge of her desk, eyes staring into the numbers that ticked by all too slow to be considered a second or a minute in her mind. Her foot tapped on the tile floor beneath her as she tried to focus on her work in front of her but failed when her hand found itself pulling away to trace doodles on the corner of a nearby notepad. Some of them were little stars. There were hearts surrounded by fireworks and butterflies making their ways across the page in a mass migration of curiosity. A sketch of her face aside one of Kray’s littered the top most edges here and there, some scribbled out when she had decided that they were not up to par with what he truly looked like.

Normally she would be hard at work. Normally there would be more appointments that she had to handle and organize. Spreadsheets of company and personal information would be spread about before her like pieces of a battleship game, needing to be adjusted and called out so that each one could be done and sunk in within a few precious moments. Calls would have to be made and orders given to those lower down under the request of business so that the company and all of Kray Foresight’s shareholdings in that company could go smoothly and without fault. It was her job to be the oil in the machine that filled them.

Today, however, was really hard to work.

The first thing Kray had done that morning was announce that the both of them would be getting off early. The order to cancel all of their plans and appointments after 2pm was a startling one to Star, but she obeyed with little resistance as the question left her lips. Brows knit together, she tilted her head at the man before her.

“Can I ask why you need to remove all of these appointments. Some of them are really important, Kray! You have a meeting with the global marketing executives of three neighboring cities at 4:30 and-”

His hand touched her lips, silencing her as she watched him with wide eyes. That same hand moved from her lips to her cheek, cupping it gently as he gazed down at her with that strong, soft looking smile that he always seemed to wear around her. It was a secret look given only to her and every time he gazed it made her heart beat ten times as fast as it normally did. Her cheeks were red as he leaned forward, kissing her forehead carefully before murmuring into her ears:

“Trust me, it’s important.”

She bit her lip one last time before it gave away to an excited smile, nodding her head as he removed his hand from her. With one last final sigh of indignation, Star hit the red ‘cancel’ button on the appointments and prepared for the onslaught of calls that would echo in her phone as to why the client’s meeting with Kray Foresight was so suddenly removed from their busy schedule.

It lead to her contemplation at the desk, picking at the smooth surface as she waited for the clock to strike the appropriate time for her to get off. Star’s mind had not stopped racing with the possibilities of the events that might occur. What was Kray going to do with her after the 2:00 mark? Was it something she should be worried about? No, of course not. They had long since passed the threshold of being worried with one another. Kray had proven time and time again that he was nothing but loyal and caring to her needs, each surprise always startling and exciting her more than the last one he had planned.

She recalled fondly the time that he had taken her to a zoo on her day off, the images of animals and exhibits displaying such rare commodities that barely existed in the world after the Great Blaze was something that set her heart beating at a rapid pace. How strange the world used to be. It was a far away, distant memory of something that was no longer obtainable to humans or burnish. The state of the earth was hot now. Estranged and different in its creation as magma heated up and, with it, burnish revolution.

Star bit back a laugh at the thought. Global warming used to be something people could joke about but now? It was all too real.

The increasingly melancholy emotion that began to settle into her stomach at the thought dissipated as soon as the gentle ring of her intercom echoed through the otherwise empty halls. Picking it up, she hit its speaker button with wide, curious eyes. Leaning in closer, Star spoke with a practiced professionalism to her tone that lent itself to her more out of habit than actual want for its presence.

“Yes, Mr. Foresight!”

“It’s 2:00, Star. Meet me in the lobby, alright?”

“Oh, right! I’ll be down soon, Kray.”

She smiled to herself at the quick change of his name, the shift of his professional title to his casual name always gave her a sense of whiplash. The ease with which it shifted was like something out of a romance movie. The dashing and debonair CEO of a corporation falling for his simple and soft secretary, only for their relationship to blossom into something more than either could have ever expected. The idea made her laugh, the blush evident on her rosy cheek as she gathered up her stuff from her desk,bid farewell to the security guards that monitored just outside of the reception area, and made her way towards the lobby of the Foresight tower.

The lobby was less than bustling. Every worker was still in their quarters, busily going about their duties until the five o’clock bell rang to signal the day was over. There was something surreal about being out so early, Star noted. It was like when you were pulled out of school early as a child, the pride of walking down empty halls unnoticed by everyone but you and the classmates you had left in your wake. It would almost be worth the doctor’s appointment or dentist trip that you would have to go through to manage.

Instead, though, this was a date. At least she assumed it was a date. There was usually few reasons he would cancel so many appointments outside of spending time with her, the knowledge both flattering and worrying Star all at once. Could he afford this? If one of the meetings got too offended with his cancellation they might do something to harm his reputation! The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for something bad happening to either him or his company. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip as the thoughts put her body on autopilot, shifting her movements so that she exited the lobby with ease and stood outside the impressive building with her fingertips pushing against one another in front of her.

A hand on her back startled her into a stick straight position. Kray’s chuckle echoed comfortingly at her side.

“You were thinking.” He noted as she finally looked up at him.

Kray was as handsome as he ever was, the sunlight shining off his golden hair to make it look like he was wearing a halo. The light reflected so beautifully, like an angel who had come from the heavens to greet her, the smile on his lips all the affirmation she needed that she was loved.

Loved… The feeling was a warm and intense heat all throughout her body. It was a hot sensation that only grew the closer she was to Kray. As if there was a string of fate connecting them. A line of important warming up between them as they got to know one another. Star smiled and leaned up despite herself, her lips puckering for a kiss she couldn’t reach due to their height different. Kray watched her for a second, amused at the attempt, before leaning down to allow the kiss to be placed on his cheek. In turn, he moved his mouth so that it covered hers, holding the true kiss for a long and complete moment between them.

“I don’t remember what I was thinking about now.” Star admitted, dazed through the power of the lip-to-lip contact her man had offered her. Kray chuckled and held onto her as he lead her forward.

“That’s fine, we’ll have a lot to think about on our day out. Shall we get started?”

Star skipped forward with an eagerness in her step, head tilting curiously as he made his way with her to the limousine that they traveled often in.

“Just where are you taking me?” Her tone was teasing as she smiled up at him, eyebrows raised in genuine curiosity that made her face look so inquisitive and soft that Kray’s heart nearly burst from his chest. He stared down for one long, quiet moment before clearing his throat and giving her a reassuring smile one last time.

“You’ll see when we get there, it’s a surprise.”

Star fidgeted the entire car trip, her legs crossed and her hands in her lap as she watched her fingers shift from one point to another. Though she was nervous, there was a strong tinge of excitement underneath the layer of anxiety. Underneath that estranged worry she had her soul was layered with a sense of eagerness. Delight to know that, wherever she was going, she would be bringing Kray with her. No, more like he was bringing her with him. They were going together, wherever they were going, of their own volitions. It was that thoughtful memory that made Star excited. That one piece of trivia that made her heart thrum with a renewed excitement for Kray Foresight. It was like she was falling in love with him over and over again.

She couldn’t get enough of it.

Kray’s hand rested on her leg, calming the jostling it had started to take up doing, making Star bit her lip in surprise and look up at the man at her side. HIs smile was kind to her as he held her, thumb brushing over her knee gently. A blush heated up her face as she smiled, her smaller hand reaching out to rest atop his larger one. The two shifted so that their fingers were soon entwined with one another, his grip firm and strong and hers light and gentle. She loved how strong his hands were. How easily they knew how to hold her in just the right way to make her feel safe and secure. To not worry about anything in his presence.

As the car slowed to a halt, the tinted windows blocked her view to the outside world. A soft pout formed on Star’s lips as she tried (and failed) to look out one of them in hopes of being able to see just where they were. When she turned to face Kray to ask what was going on, he only offered her a small bag in return.

“Here,” He smiled, “You may want to change into this.”

Her curious look morphed into surprise as she grabbed at the bag to peer into it, noting the beautiful purple and gold one piece swimsuit within it, completely with a matching skirt cover up and hat. Pulling out the items, it took her mind a moment to connect the dots of their location and the gifts but, when the realization crossed her mind, she gasped.

“Kray are we-.”

“See for yourself.”

He gestured to the door, leaning around her to open it.

Star peered out in shock. The beachside was abandoned besides them, the sand radiated a sweet and comforting warmth from its edges as the water lapped away at it from the safe distance. The ocean glimmered beautifully across the entire horizon, like a blue gem in the nothingness as the sky glittered blues and purples above them. The only other open item on the beach was a single, smooth beachside shack. She imagined it housed changing rooms and showers. LIkely even a small bar to eat from, and her heartbeat elevated in excitement.

“I thought there were no more beaches left anymore?!” She gasped as she hopped out of the limousine. Kray took his time rounding his own corner, running a hand through his hair with a smile down at his awed girlfriend.

“It’s a project we’ve been working on,” Kray admitted with a cheeky hum to his voice, “Terraforming devices were used to build up the landscape and fit this together. Though, I admit its more of a lake than a true ocean. A majority of the water across the bay are reflective holographic panels and the sand ends shortly in a mile in either direction, but to most who would want the feel of a beach day, I’d say it’s sufficient don’t you?”

“It’s more than that!” Star giggled as she ran forward, having taken her heels off she now let her feet be engulfed by the warm sand with an excited smile, “It feels like it’s a real thing! This is amazing, Kray!”

Kray couldn’t hide the smile that broke across his mouth, edge upturned edge lacing with pride as he watched his beloved girlfriend all but scramble out of the parking lot and towards the beach, her new swimsuit in hand as she made it towards the shack to change into it. He followed her lightly in return, the driver of the car dropping his own bag of swimwear into his hands as he went to do so.

It was only a few minutes before both were in their swimsuits. Star rushed towards the water, stopping just along its edge as she watched the waves lap at the edges of the sand. As the tide inched towards her, she squealed when the cold water engulfed her feet, smiling at the feeling of its bite against her ankles as it surrounded the lower half. She stepped around against the softening sand beneath her and felt some of the material give way underneath her movements. A startled trip against an uneven part of the ground made her fall backwards, a shocked yelp leaving her mouth as she all but careened downwards for a brief and terrifying moment.

Strong hands caught her body, a covered chest providing cushioning against the otherwise nasty (and wet) fall she might have taken had Kray not been there. Looking upwards with surprise, Star noted the way Kray’s smile had turned almost smug as he tilted his head towards her.

“I know you fell for me, but you should be more careful.”

“It wasn’t like that, dummy!” She laughed as her blush roared across her cheeks, her hand gently smacking his pectoral in return and causing him to laugh lightly as well.

As she regained her balance, Star kicked up some of the salty water as it returned against their legs with renewed vigor, splashing it against Kray’s legs as he stepped back in surprise. A daring look sparkled against his cheeks and Star new that she had started something she was not sure if she could finish. Still, the grin of excitement upon her lips was genuine as she skittered away across the shoreline, laughing as she was chased by the man behind her, who followed with an almost relaxed ease. His height would have made it easy for him to overtake her, but then the chase would have no true meaning. It was only when they managed to run a decent distance that he picked up his pace, his arms finding Star’s wiast and lifting her up.

Star’s scream echoed into giggles as she was spun around in his grip, her fingertips clinging to his shoulders for dear life as she was brought downwards into a sweet, deep, and salty sort of kiss. The spray of the ocean hit her cheeks as she smiled against his mouth, her hands finding his cheeks and holding him where he was.

It was a long and languid kiss, her body pressing against his torso as he held her up. Her legs popped backwards, the semblance of a foot pop as best she could do above her own center of gravity, and the curve of a smile against her lips was soft as she pulled away from him with a gaze that resonated nothing but the softest of loves.

She always looked at him like that. Like he was the only thing in her world. An intense and caring sort of stare that focused solely on him. Solely on admiring the contents of his soul and his heart and his mind and his body. All of it was an almost overwhelming look, the gaze making Kray’s cheeks heat up as she continued to gaze lovingly at him.

Kray had often forgotten what it was like to be so adored by a singular person. Certainly the masses found him beautiful and creative. The world looked up to him as a pioneer of technology. There was a strange disconnect in the love of an entire group, however. A group mentality of  care and cooperation needed for survival. Of course they would look up to him, a man who pushed through all of the survival and created something for himself. It was easier to follow than it was to lead. To look up at him as they did without focusing on what was truly beneath him.

Star, though? She looked at him as Kray. As someone she trusted and adored and… He couldn’t quite figure out why, of all things, this was so different.

Maybe it was because he loved her too.

He kissed her again, sweet and languid as his mind raced with the thoughts of care he didn’t think he could have so much of for one person.

“How about we have dinner in my penthouse? The sunset will be beautiful from the top of the tower.”

Star giggled and pecked at his nose with a nod.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Their trip from the private beach back to the Foresight tower felt shorter than the drive from it. The movements of the car lulled Star into a sense of relaxation. As her dry work clothes rubbed against her chilled, water-kissed skin and created a sweet sense of friction, warming her up as she let her head rest on Kray’s arm. Shutting her eyes, she wasn’t quite sure when she had fallen asleep during the drive before he was gently nudging her to get her awake. Her eyes fluttered open, a yawn stretching her lips as she rubbed the nap away from her bleary vision. Looking up at Kray, he gazed down with a sense of care and admiration that made her feel, suddenly, all too exposed under his eyes.

His gaze always did that. Gave her the sense that she was the most important thing in the world. Gave her the feeling that she was… care for. That she was the only thing under that gaze and nothing in the world, burnish or otherwise, could possibly change that. It was a feeling that made her heart clench up in all the right ways as she gazed up at him, smiling just as he was at her. He was a sun and she could stare at, blinded by the care that seemed to radiate from his entire body all at once and the warmth that it created was something even more sweet than that of a fire or blanket or anything in between.

They exited the vehicle and moved on to the tower, the elevator taking them all the way upwards towards the top of the tower. The sky was beginning to fall with shades of pinks and purples as the setting of the sun beyond the horizon of Promepolis dragged its shadow further against buildings and cars alike. By the time they reached the top of the tower the entirety of it was bathed in that beautiful sunset, the air smelling of something as sweet as the colors were. They swirled in shades of cotton candy and wildflowers. Clouds dotted the sky above the entire sky like pointillism, painting a sense of comfort and beauty in a way that took Star’s breath away the longer she watched it above her.

The wide open area of the rooftop was windy, but not obnoxiously so. The table in the center of the entire area was draped with a white cloth, intricately laced with gold fleur de lis and edges of flowers. The food that rested atop the cloth, however, was the center of attention. Deliciously laid out steaks amongst vegetables roasted in garlic with tall glasses of white wine aligning themselves neatly against the side of pure silver tableware and folded ivory napkins with lacing that matched the edges of the cloth beneath the beautiful white plates. Star wasn’t sure if she was supposed to drool over the food or admire the view of the city beneath them.

Kray’s hand suddenly landed on her shoulder as she inched closer to the edge of the building, staring downwards at the world below them as the people and the cars moved through the grid of the city like small working ants. It was so strange, being so high up like this. So detached from the world around them. As though they were above it all. As though something about the entirety of the world was smaller than them… It was a strange feeling for her. Kray’s hand tightened, as though in fear that she might slip off and fall. If she did… Would she fly?

Probably not.

“Everything is so different from up here,” Star whispered softly to the man at her side, “Like we’re in a world above the one we’re watching…”

“We are,” Kray murmured in return, “In a way. We’re in a world that is for us right now. A world filled with opportunities and changes. Places that we can study and learn the secrets of the world. From up here… It’s as if we have the power of the entirety of the city from here, don’t you think?”

Star laughed, the sound soft in the back of her throat as she thought of just what he was saying. Just what it all meant, being as high up above people like this. It was… strange. Foreign. She wasn’t sure if the word ‘wrong’ was the correct one but something it was almost unusual.

She turned to face Kray all the way, her eyes wide and sparkling with curiosity. Her gaze held his with curiosity as it became… serious. She bit her lip and tilted her head up to him with a wondering expression.

“Is… There a reason that you brought me up here, Kray?”

Another echo of silence. The wind howled around them, sending goosebumps up her side as she watched his face morph from a smile to something serious and then to something… different. Something she hadn’t seen on him before as he cleared his throat and looked away fro a moment, collecting himself. What did he need to collect himself for? Star’s mind raced dramatically through the movements he made as he changed his positions. As he reached downwards for something. Something… What was it?

“Star… For all the time we’ve been dating you’ve made me happy,” Kray admitted with a soft breathiness to his voice, “I never thought it was possible for someone to make me feel the way you have in all of this time we’ve been together. More than a secretary… or friend… or lover. You deserve more. More than the world below us has to offer. So… I will offer it to you. As best as I can, I want you to have everything you deserve and more.”

He got on one knee, his impressive height causing him to simply meet her eye to eye as he stared forward at her. Star tensed up, her breath hitching in her lungs as a hand reached up to cover her lips as they flew open in shock.

“Star…” Kray’s voice was gentle as he smiled at her, his lips gentle as he took her free hand in his own, pulling his other outwards from his pocket to reveal a small, velvet box.

The box opened. Within it a diamond ring sparkled in the low light of the setting sun, the band of gold glinting just right with the reflection of the gems. The middle gem was heart shaped, curling with surrounding gems that layered outwards in smaller rows. They shone like rainbows against the cotton candy skyline, shifting their hues with the movement of the box in Kray’s hand. He looked down for a long moment at the gem and then back up at Star, his patience easygoing as he watched her face morph between awe and shock as tears formed up in the corners of her eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

The question sent the dam bursting, her tears falling down her cheeks as she laughed through her sobs, taking a step back as though the shine of the ring might burn her skin if she got too close. Star felt the ruffle of wind on her hair again, the goosebumps rising from delight rather than cold now, and she couldn’t see through the tears that now fell. Kray felt a blush warm his cheeks at her reaction, the excitement so clear on her perfect lips that it made him stiffen with pride.

“I… Kray I’m…” Star tried to formulate the words. Any words to express her excitement. To display her gratitude. To admit to him just how much she loved him back and how much she wanted this in her life. How much she wanted HIM in her life. To be with him in such an official way for the rest of their lives… The very thought made her head spin with excitement and her chest heave with eager hope.

Instead she simply said the one word that would seal it all at once.

“Y-Yes! Yes. Yes… I accept!”

The words fell from her mouth like a waterfall as she launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around Kray’s shoulders and pushing herself into the most intense hug she could muster through the tears.

Kray gasped and laughed, wrapping her up in a tight hug and heaving her into his arms, their lips colliding into a powerful kiss.

They held their kiss for a long, deep moment. Their bodies held tight together as they shared the moment that was, surely, the echo of their true feelings.

When they pulled away and Star was put back down on the ground, she smiled up at him, the tears stopping but the aftermath of their warm glow on her face still there as she bit her lip. Kray sighed with delight and took the ring from its box, holding up her hand and carefully sliding the piece onto her ring finger. It fit easily, her measurements memorized in both his mind and database enough for it to be perfect on the first try.

“Kray… Are you sure?” Star gasped with a smile.

He kissed her again, his smile evident.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life… I’ve never been more sure of you.”

The air was mellowing out around them, the sun finishing her descent across the sky so the city glowed with its set lighting and beautiful rainbow stars of windows and cars moving below. The world was endless around them, constantly shaping and changing as Star had thought it always would.

But the difference now was that she had Kray Foresight. All of him, for the rest of their lives.

And it was perfect.

[varietydisco]

Catch of the Day

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Kieran Duffy Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Mutual Pining, Crushes, First Kiss, Both of them being mildly touch-starved, Kieran rubbing down Arthur “butterball” Morgan with aloe vera Word count: 4500

Description: Arthur and Kieran let their minds wander on an unsuccessful fishing trip, and Arthur gets a sunburn.

Arthur felt his presence before Kieran even had the chance to say a word.

Kieran walked quietly, as if he were afraid to make too much noise or to assert himself into his surroundings. He seemed to slink around camp, shoulders slumped and head down, despite being surprisingly tall and just as lanky. He had an air about him, though, that was impossible to miss; sitting alone at the table scribbling in his journal, it made the hairs on the back of Arthur’s neck stand up when he felt Kieran looking at him.

Kieran seemed to do a lot of looking these days, though that could have just been a coincidence.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder.

Sure enough, Kieran was standing a few feet off, all gangly limbs and strange uncertainty about himself. He held a fishing pole and a bucket in both his hands, with a worried expression. When Arthur looked at him, Kieran seemed to jolt, as if he weren’t expecting this development, and a little like he was ready to take off and run.

Arthur gave Kieran a second to speak, and when he didn’t, Arthur took the lead into the conversation.

“Mornin’.” He greeted, despite it being closer to noon by then. He flipped his journal shut and twisted around in his seat. “Whaddya need?”

“N— nothin’,” Kieran replied almost instantly, tripping over his words.

“Well, obviously there’s somethin’,” Arthur said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be ooglin’ me.”

Kieran’s cheeks flushed hot. His eyes dropped to the ground and the words sounded as though they were tumbling out of his mouth.

“I— I wasn’t ooglin’ ya! I was just… Well…”

A lot of people commented on how much more confident Kieran had gotten since they let him loose from the tree. He still had that damn stutter, but he was slowly getting less afraid to talk to people and speak his mind. Awful with looking people in the eye yet, which was something that bothered Dutch to no end (but really, what did he expect from a glorified ex-O’Driscoll-whipping-boy?). Otherwise, he was getting better, according to the others.

Arthur didn’t seem to get that from Kieran; he got an awkward man with a secret on his mind that was eating him inside out. If Arthur were better at reading people, he might try to figure out what Kieran was hiding, but he just wasn’t, so he stayed weary of the other man best he could.

“I’m tryin’ to rally my nerves, is all.” Kieran finally finished.

“So, you do want a favour.”

“No, not exactly. I— Well…”

“You’re wastin’ my goddamn time, O’Driscoll.”

Kieran’s freckled cheeks flared red. Despite the nerves which still wracked his voice and held his shoulders, he managed to sound more assertive.

“I told yous a million times over— I ain’t no O’Driscoll. I hate when y’all call me that. I’m… I’m more van der Linde than I ever was O’Driscoll.”

Arthur sort of half-shrugged his shoulders, before settling back and crossing his arms. Quickly, he scraped his eyes over Kieran’s lanky body. There was nothing in particular to note, except that when he got defensive and annoyed he stood a little straighter and a little taller, almost enough that it made him look good. Or at least better.

Arthur didn’t want to approach where that thought came from, so he quickly pushed it right back down.

“Just tell me what you want an’ be done with it. No sense runnin’ circles.”

“I’m only— I was wonderin’ if you’d wanna go fishin’ with me.” Kieran finally said. For emphasis, he shook the bucket in his left hand; it rattled presumably with extra hooks and bait.

Arthur looked at the bucket, then Kieran, then to the rest of the camp beyond him.

As the afternoon heat started settling in, most of the people had drifted away from their work towards whatever shady spots they could find instead. Either laid-up under tents to sleep away the heat or tucked under outcroppings from the waggons while they chatted quietly among themselves, the entire camp had fallen into a peaceful hush. There was no loud talking, or nagging, and most surprisingly of all, no arguing. Usually the heat brought out the worst in people, but for some reason, not today.

A secret little part of Arthur loved the thought of getting away from camp today. If he waited too long, Dutch or Pearson or one of the girls or someone would come wandering around, asking him for this or that. An errand to run in town, a trinket to go find, a harebrained scheme that would promise them big pay for a little elbow grease. Frankly, Arthur wasn’t in the mood for any of it. A day of peace might do him good.

Arthur turned his eyes back to Kieran and narrowed them. Being skeptical was always in his best interest.

“Why?” Arthur inquired. “I thought the fish didn’t bite this time of day… Somethin’ about the sun, or the bugs on the water.”

Under his intense gaze, Kieran acted funny. He wet his lips, shifted his feet, and dropped his eyes. His shoulders slumped forward again, as if what little confidence he had before was sucked out of him.

“Well, you’re— you’re the nicest person here to me. We did good the last time we went fishin’, too.” Kieran admitted. “And I figured you— well, I figured you needed some rest. You’re always runnin’ around for the others an’ I ain’t ever— p- pardon me sayin’, but I ain’t ever seen you sit your ass down anywhere for long. An’ fishin’, it’s just…”

The words were falling quick and nervous out of Kieran’s mouth. “It’s just sittin’ on your ass. Relaxin’.”

Arthur tilted his head back a little bit. Despite himself, he cocked his brow and smirked with the corner of his lips.

“Spend a lot of time thinkin’ about my ass an’ what I do with it, O’Driscoll?”

Kieran’s eyes bugged.

“That ain’t what I said at all!”

Admittedly, his reaction made Arthur laugh. Deep and quiet, Arthur settled back in his chair as he chuckled.

Kieran’s face went red up to his ears as he shook his own head. He chewed his lip and went to turn on his heels.

“Nevermind my askin’. M’ sorry to bother you.”

Arthur scoffed as soon as Kieran started to walk away. He uncrossed his arms, sat forward and waved his hand.

“Come on, now. I’m only teasin’.” Arthur said. He waited until Kieran looked back at him to keep talking, carefully. “I never said I wouldn’t come. I reckon it’d be nice… Relaxin’, an’ whatnot.”

Kieran perked up. Despite his nerves and doubts and every other weird, squirming feeling inside of him at the sight of Arthur’s bright blue eyes that he’d rather ignore, Kieran couldn’t help himself being drawn in. He smiled, a small quirk in his lips that quickly broke into something more excited.

For a second, the sight of it made Arthur forget what he was going to say.

Kieran didn’t seem to smile a lot, but then again, why would he? Not a lot to make you smile when you were the butt of everybody’s jokes.

But he had a great smile, Arthur had to admit, whether he wanted to or not.

Arthur cleared his throat and rose to his feet. As he went, he grabbed his journal and tucked it firmly under his arm.

“I ain’t much of a fisherman, though.” Arthur warned. “You know that.”

“Don’t matter. Most of the fun’s in the company, anyhow.”

Arthur pursed his lips. He couldn’t help but notice how Kieran’s eyes flickered to his mouth.

“Hold yourself in pretty good esteem?”

Even though Kieran still had that same nervous look to him, he kept smiling.

“Not hardly. I just think… We get along good, is all.”

Something about Kieran’s genuine smile made Arthur’s heart ache. He pushed it down, forced away his own smile, and only offered a nod in reply.

“…Yeah, you’re alright.”

—30—

By the time they got to their private nook on Flat Iron Lake, the sun was high in the sky and impossibly hot and stifling. Sweat rolled liberally down the sides of Arthur’s jaw and collected in his stubble, sticky and uncomfortable. There was hardly any shade for them, so the sun beat down awful vicious. Arthur felt the burn of his shirt against his shoulders.

But, for some reason, the peace was nice. All things considered.

Kieran talked, mostly about nothing and mostly just to fill the silence. His voice regained some of that confidence people were always commenting on. While they casted their lines and slowly reeled in, Kieran’s words floated up into the hot summer air and kept Arthur entertained.

“You know I— I heard once that there’s catfish in some lakes that’ve gotten so big they could eat a man,” Kieran said. His eyes were trained on the water, as he sat on the sandy bank and reeled his rod. “Heard that’s why in some places, they… They don’t eat the catfish. ‘Cause they’ve fed on humans.”

Their conversation was following a train of thought, constantly shifting topic and moving this way and that. Considering how quiet he normally was, Arthur just appreciated that there was someone to take the lead in the conversation.

“So, if we catch a real fat one,” Arthur mused. He reached up to wipe his forehead on his arm. “We ought to assume Pearson fell in the lake and got made dinner?”

Kieran laughed, short and surprised. Arthur glanced to the side in time to see it happen, and almost wished he hadn’t.

Seeing Kieran smile and watching his eyes crinkle as he laughed made Arthur’s heart ache again. There were so many implications to it that Arthur didn’t want to think about, much less dwell on or try to dissect.

He didn’t want to think about how Kieran’s presence made him feel, or the way the hairs on his arms and neck rose when he felt Kieran looking at him. And the last thing Arthur needed to be thinking about was how Kieran looked then, and how he wished he could have immortalized the scene in a drawing, with Kieran’s straw hat pulled low to his eyes, his body pitching forward slightly as he laughed, the quirk in his thin lips and the way his eyes crinkled at the edges. Arthur didn’t need to think about how much warmth and light Kieran managed to hide in that nervous face of his.

Maybe Kieran felt Arthur staring at him, because as his laughter died he looked to the side. His smile kind of dipped, shifted towards uncertainty.

“S— somethin’ wrong?” Kieran asked. His own heart thundered so loud in his chest, he prayed that Arthur couldn’t hear it.

Arthur never had a way with words. He had them all in his head, but never the means to express them proper. Instead of answering truthfully, Arthur shook his head, turned his eyes down, and drawled out a, “Naw. It’s nothin’.”

—30—

They didn’t catch a lot, and most of what they did were too small to keep. Even though their bucket was mostly empty, it was still in good fun; the peace and the quiet was better than anything else. For a few hours, at least, Kieran was glad to be away from the loud voices at camp mocking or teasing him.

Arthur was great company, all things considered. While they fished, and after their conversation had tapered off into sparse silence, Kieran kept stealing little glances at the other man.

Progressively, over the course of their fishing trip, Arthur had been undoing buttons from his shirt, trying to invite the weak breeze onto his skin. He had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and all the buttons undone on his front. His shirt basically hung off his shoulders, presenting all the soft, hairy rolls underneath.

Even though he was an outlaw on the run, he was still pudgy and heavy-set. Kieran knew better than to stare, lest he be caught and teased or chastised for it, but it felt impossible to look away. The sight made Kieran smile, and a collection of feelings and thoughts rush through his mind.

Arthur’s line snagged and immediately he jumped into action. He jerked the rod, and started to reel, though quickly the line went slack again.

As frustration crossed his face, Kieran laughed gently.

“You ain’t caught a single thing, just about.” Kieran pointed out with a grin. “You’ve just been feedin’ the fish all day.”

“I told’ja, I ain’t no fisherman.” Arthur replied, trying to mask his annoyance.

He reeled in his line quickly, shook his head at the empty hook when he examined it, and then baited it up with another worm.

Kieran watched Arthur’s hands work, impossibly big and rough, yet still deft and delicate in their movements.

“It’s all in how you reel,” Kieran eventually said, after Arthur casted his line again. “I could show ya.”

Arthur held his rod out to the side. “By all means.”

Kieran took the chance to scoot in closer to Arthur. The sandy beach shifted, hot and imposing under his legs; somehow, though, when his shoulder brushed with Arthur’s, it felt even hotter.

“You’ve got a good cast,” Kieran explained, keeping his eyes down on their hands. “But when you feel a bite, y’ gotta give it a hard, quick yank. Make sure that sucker stays on…”

Kieran placed his hand over Arthur’s and adjusted it. Arthur fell completely silent, settled instead on watching Kieran.

His eyes flicked between Kieran’s face and their hands, his heart starting to race. Maybe it was because people’s hands on Arthur usually had the intent to hurt, and that’s why it felt so hot and odd. Not exactly unfamiliar, just… Different. Good, in a way. Too good. Arthur’s mouth felt kind of dry.

Then, just as soon as Kieran’s hands were there, they were gone again; taken back quick and wrapped around his own fishing rod again, as though it had been a mistake to make contact at all.

“Then you just gotta… Keep reelin’.” Kieran finished. He wet his lips and glanced towards the water, away from Arthur. Feeling awkward and strange himself, with the lingering sensation of Kieran’s hands on his own, Arthur did the same. “If you pull the line too much, it’ll… It’ll dislodge the hook. Then the fish gets away with the bait.”

Arthur nodded. Under the brim of his hat, his shaded cheeks felt hot.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“No problem.” Kieran replied just as weakly.

Silence overcame them, aside from Arthur clearing his throat and them quietly reeling in or casting out. It took a few seconds, but Arthur soon realized that Kieran never moved back to his spot. They stayed together, shoulders barely touching.

“You’re awful close,” Arthur pointed out, maybe because he felt an obligation to. It didn’t feel quite right to admit that he liked it.

Kieran glanced to him.

“Oh. I guess I am.” There was something uncertain in his expression as Kieran smiled with the corner of his mouth. “Do you mind it?”

Arthur didn’t know what to say right off, so he mumbled, “Not especially.”

Kieran didn’t look away immediately and neither did Arthur. They kind of gazed at each other for a long moment and it left Arthur unsure and nervous, because sitting this close he noticed how pretty Kieran’s eyes were, and that was something he would rather have not to think about.

“This is nice, don’tcha think?” Kieran asked. “Nothin’ to worry about, nobody wantin’ anythin’ outta ya.”

“It’s different.” Arthur admitted. He couldn’t be sure if he were referring to Kieran’s statement or his own feelings.

“We ought to do this more often. At least for your sake.” Kieran laughed weakly. He turned back towards the water. “What, with the way they’s run you ragged at camp…”

“How many times can you see my ugly mug before you get sick of it?” Arthur inquired. “Or do you just enjoy bein’ the most competent man in the area?”

“What? No! ‘Course not.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth quirked with a smile.

“Oh, sure.”

“Honest and true,” Kieran insisted. “Its like I said, I— I just enjoy your company.”

“Nobody just ‘enjoys my company’ unless they want somethin’ or they’re sick in the head.” Arthur said it as a joke, in his own gruff way, but Kieran didn’t laugh or smile. Instead, Kieran paused, kind of furrowed his brows together in worry.

“You don’t really think like that, do ya?”

Arthur’s stomach twisted and he quietly faltered. It took him a second to shake off the comment.

“Come on, I don’t need pity from an O’Driscoll. It’s just a joke, is all.”

“Well, alright…” Kieran’s voice trailed off, and even as they both looked back to the water, he stole glances at Arthur through the corner of his eye. “…I don’t think it’s true, though. I think you’re fine company to keep.”

“You don’t know me very well, apparently.” Arthur felt a tug on his line, so he jerked the rod and did as Kieran showed him. “Or you’ve got a terrible judge of character. I kept you chained to a tree.”

“We all done things we ain’t proud of,” Kieran said. He let his own line lay to waste as he watched Arthur reel.

Arthur grunted with effort. “Who says I ain’t proud of it?”

“I like to think I know you better’n that.”

“You barely know me at all.”

Arthur tugged and reeled, and then stood up to get a better grip. Whatever was on the end of his line put up an awful fight.

Kieran’s eyes quickly looked over Arthur’s form, before they settled on his face.

“If that’s what you think, then I…” Kieran hesitated a second. “…I’d like to get to know you better, Mister Arthur.”

Arthur casted a quick glance to Kieran, part flustered and confused and unsure what to think, then pulled his catch out of the water with a great yank.

—30—

Arthur caught their biggest catch of the day because of course he did. As with all things, even though he put himself down, he excelled in the end.

Kieran didn’t have it in him to be jealous or angry about it, though. If anything, he was impressed, enthralled; starstruck, maybe, if it didn’t sound so cheesy to admit. When they came strolling back into camp that afternoon and Arthur handed his catch off to Pearson to be gutted and cleaned, people gawked and congratulated him and commented on how the fish had to be as big as Jack. Per usual, Kieran hung to the background, mostly forgotten and unnoticed. He didn’t mind.

He spent the whole day with Arthur, and that was more than he could have asked for. Except at one point, while a few people admired his catch, Kieran caught Arthur glancing over at him and giving him a small, crooked smile.

It made Kieran’s heart leap, his knees feel weak.

The smile only lasted a second, because quickly Arthur had to return to his scowl, lest people know that he wasn’t as rough, tough, and mean that he tried to sell himself as. Kieran didn’t mind, not really; he savoured the thought of Arthur smiling at him, then went about his work. He offered to help clean the fish for Pearson while the excitement around camp died down, and after that was done Kieran slunk back towards his own station by the horses. Back to the routine he knew.

Except he couldn’t stop thinking about Arthur. From his small smile to the power in his body when he rose up and reeled his fish in— it all stuck with Kieran, made him feel antsy and flustered like a teenager.

It also made him pause as he passed by Arthur’s tent, and note that the door of such was wide open.

Kieran didn’t try to be sneaky as he looked in. Struck with curiosity, Kieran openly peaked inside.

Arthur was sat on the cot, shirtless, as he rubbed ointment up and down his strong arms. His expression was stern and set. It twisted a little here and there as he rubbed himself down, no doubt dealing with the on-set sunburn from the afternoon. He applied more ointment to his hand, then reached behind himself to get at his shoulders.

Arthur didn’t look up, but his voice rang out, deep and commanding, “Kieran Duffy, quit that starin’. What d’you need?”

Kieran jolted and was suddenly overcame with the desire to run. He felt shame swell in his chest, like he was a peeping tom that had been caught in the act.

“I— I don’t need nothin’,” Kieran replied. He shifted towards the open front of Arthur’s tent. “How come you keep thinkin’ I do…?”

“Remember what we talked about? With you wastin’ my time?” Arthur twisted his body to try and reach his back with the ointment, but seemingly he had little success.

Flustered, Kieran looked at the ground.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. His eyes trailed back up to Arthur, quickly scanning over his heavy-set and half-naked body.

Watching Arthur struggle to apply his ointment was comparable to watching a seal try to wriggle back into the sea. It was like a disaster you couldn’t look away from.

After a moment of Arthur pretending that he didn’t notice Kieran was still there, and that he wasn’t getting embarrassed, Kieran spoke up.

“I could help you with that, mister Arthur.” The words felt heavy and laden with unspoken thoughts. Kieran swallowed, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Or I could… Grab one of the girls to help ya…”

Arthur gave up trying to rub himself down and motioned his hand with a scoff. He didn’t look Kieran in the eye.

“Just get in here. Close the door behind you.”

Kieran didn’t need to be asked twice. He didn’t want to see who might be watching them, so Kieran ducked inside and tied the tent door shut with his eyes set forward. It was warm and a little stuffy in the tent, as the remainder of the hot afternoon sun burned off, but it was shady, at least.

Arthur twisted himself around, to put his back to Kieran, and held out the tub of ointment. As Kieran slid down onto the edge of the bed, he took the tub.

“You look pretty worse for wear, mister Arthur,” Kieran commented. As he dug into the container, he eyed Arthur’s bright red and painful looking back and shoulders.

“Ain’t gotta tell me.” Arthur grunted. His voice tapered off and went silent a moment. “…Just call me Arthur. No sense in formalities.”

“Okay… You got it.”

Kieran hesitated a second, the ointment in his palm and his hand awkwardly held in front of him. It took more courage than it should have to actually lay his hand across Arthur’s back.

It was in part because of the tension he felt in his chest. Kieran felt almost lightheaded at the thought that he was getting to touch Arthur beyond a slap on the shoulder or a handshake or something like that. But it was also the uncertainty that it was Arthur Morgan he was touching— a man who, in the past, had shown he wasn’t to be trifled with.

They were both silent, deep in their own similar thoughts.

Kieran’s heart slammed. His eyes groped along Arthur’s naked back, as he tried to keep his mind clear. Similarly, Arthur did everything in his power not to think about Kieran— not the way he touched him, and how it was the gentlest anyone had treated him in a long while.

There was an undeniable stirring excitement between them, like a low rumble. Kieran slid his hands across Arthur’s broad shoulders and then down his shoulder blades, following the dip of his spine to the slight rolls at his hips.  Arthur shifted, grimacing and sighing, as he gripped the pantleg of his jeans to keep himself focused.

Briefly, they parted as Kieran dug more ointment from the tin and Arthur let go of a deep breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Sorry if I’m hurtin’ you any,” Kieran mumbled.

“You ain’t, don’t worry. Been through worse than this.”

“An’ it ain’t… Weird, or nothin’?” Kieran treaded carefully. He slid his hands over Arthur’s lower back and he thought he could melt. “It bein’ me doin’ this for ya? ‘Cause I ain’t one of the girls, or, well…”

A shiver shot down Arthur’s spine.

“I don’t mind. Wouldn’t be my first choice havin’ one of them rubbin’ me down, anyway.”

“Really?” Kieran flushed and smiled a bit. His hands slid down to Arthur’s sides. “I figured you an’ Mary-Beth, just on how she looks at ya—”

Arthur couldn’t take much more. Despite the pain in his burnt shoulders which ebbed through him, Arthur twisted around. Kieran faltered himself, voice trailing off as Arthur stared him down.

“Trust me, Duffy, I’m sure.”

All the tension and emotions that had built up inside of Arthur were catalysed by Kieran’s touch. So, against his better judgement, Arthur grabbed Kieran by the cheeks and kissed him full on the lips, hard and uncoordinated.

Kieran’s eyes shot open with shock first. Arthur’s weight leaned into his skinny body and Kieran realized then that this was real; Arthur Morgan was kissing him.

So, Kieran took it in stride. He threw his hands into Arthur’s hair, pulled him in, and kissed him just as hard.

They kind of fell together like they were meant to fit against one another. Though weary at first, quickly Kieran fell into rhythm with Arthur’s moving lips and gained his own confidence. Arthur tilted Kieran’s head back and kissed more into his mouth, earning a soft moan from the latter. Ultimately, when Arthur leaned back, Kieran fell in on top of him.

Kieran’s heart raced and the extent it all hit him a second later. He realized then that he was mostly laid down on top of Arthur. With shaking arms, Kieran planted his hands on the cot beside Arthur’s head and pulled himself up, breaking their kiss.

“Uh,” Kieran started, only to be cut off by Arthur who shook his head. He sounded a breathless, and his lips looked incredibly inviting.

“Don’t say nothin’,” he warned.

But Kieran spoke anyway, with a slow smile and curious voice.

“How… How long’ve you been waitin’ to do that?”

A strange expression crossed Arthur’s face that was equal parts confused and shocked with his own actions. It settled after a second, when his eyes focused in on Kieran again. It made the latter’s heart race.

Arthur shook his head.

“Too damn long,” he replied, and then he kissed Kieran again.

[argylemnwrites]

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 10

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~4500

Rating: PG-13 (language, innuendo)

Summary: Drake and Riley enjoy some time with close friends as Liam attempts to process the reality of his friends’ relationship.

Author’s Note: This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

Liam sighed as he sipped his coffee, flipping through his news briefing on his tablet. The press coverage of the funeral was good, which was something. And the op ed that had dropped the day before the funeral, calling for his abdication to in order to decrease the likelihood of another attack, thankfully had not gained any traction.

He glanced at the time as he finished off his toast. It was after 9:00, and if he was going to make it to Lythikos for an appearance at the ball that night, he should aim to leave the palace within the hour. He’d been hoping to talk to Drake before he left. More days than not, they’d had breakfast together in the private dining room, and Liam had just assumed that he would be there waiting for him like usual this morning. Drake was a notoriously early riser, after all. But the more Liam thought about it, he realized that Drake might have not felt comfortable coming to the royal family’s private dining room with Riley. He should have extended an official invitation to both of them last night before they parted for the evening.

The conversation between the three of them in his office while they waited for their luggage to return had been somewhat stilted. “Downright uncomfortably awkward,” hissed a voice in the back of his head, the one that kept trying to force him to confront some emotions he just didn’t have the time to deal with at the moment. Riley had inquired about his plans for the upcoming week, and the nudge of her heel against Drake’s shin had not gone unnoticed. She was clearly trying to arrange some private conversation between Drake and himself, but he cut Drake off before he could say anything. Maybe after his trip to Lythikos, maybe then he could take some time, but for now, he just couldn’t deal with the personal. In light of his father’s death, he needed to be more present in the public eye than ever, otherwise the calls for abdication were likely to increase.

Of course, the most uncomfortable moment of the night was when Stefan had arrived after collecting their luggage. As he offered to take what he believed to be Riley’s belongings and set up her old room for her, the way her head whipped back to Drake made her shock clear. She had no idea that since they were not married, they were not supposed stay together under the palace roof. Drake’s eyes darted between Riley, Stefan, and Liam himself, clearly trying to figure out the best way to navigate this situation. Liam knew in that moment he could have resolved things instantly by telling Stefan just to put everything in Drake’s old quarters. Neither Drake nor Riley were members of the nobility and thus should not be obligated to live by the outdated royal standards, particularly since they were living together in New York. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say those words, to say out loud that he was aware that Drake and Riley were clearly sleeping together and that he was fine with it.

Thankfully, Stefan took initiative after several long moments of uncomfortable silence, suggesting that he might have made some errors in his packing, so he would just take all the luggage to Mr. Walker’s quarters and that he and Ms. Liu could sort out which belongings went to which room before they retired for the night. Everyone readily agreed to this plan, with Stefan excusing himself and telling Drake and Riley to let him know when they had gone through the luggage, as he would be happy to move Riley’s belongings to her room. Liam had been sure that Stefan was not going to be summoned again that night, a fact which was confirmed to him by a very scandalized housekeeper this morning.

Lost in his recollections of the preceding evening, Liam was startled when the door opened. Apparently Drake was joining him for breakfast after all, though he’d never arrived this late before. Interestingly, he was alone. Liam must have looked surprised, because Drake said “Liu’s still asleep,” without prompting as he walked over to pour himself a coffee.

“Should I send someone up there to find out what she wants Edith to make her for breakfast?”

Drake swiveled his head around to look at Liam. He seemed to be searching for something in Liam’s expression, but after a few seconds said, “Nah, she’ll be fine with her usual.”

“Her usual?”

“Yeah, she had an omelette with ham and pepper-jack during the social season and during your engagement tour about three quarters of the time,” Drake replied, pouring two coffees, one black and one with a splash of cream.

“I had no idea.” The reality of Drake and Riley hit Liam harder that moment than it ever had before. For some reason, this felt more intimate than seeing them holding hands at the burial or the kisses he witnessed back at the going away dinner. He wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that Drake had known Riley’s favorite breakfast as far back as the social season or that Drake just assumed that he would have realized this fact. Or maybe it was the way Drake prepared her coffee. No guesswork or hesitation, it felt routine, like it was something he did all the time. It probably was something he did all the time. Why did something so simple feel more concrete than the knowledge that Drake and Riley had stayed together last night?

“Is that what you usually make her for breakfast?” The question slipped out before Liam could stop himself. Drake froze, spoon suspended above Riley’s coffee. “Come on, Riley once told me she and I could have a battle to see who was the worse cook, and you always liked preparing your own meals. I know you must be the chef in your home.”

“Why do you want to know?”

This gave Liam pause. He had a lot of reasons. Part of it was curiosity of how his best friend and the woman he had loved, did still love to a certain extent, lived everyday. Part of it was wondering who Riley really was, because the Riley he thought he knew was clearly different than actual Riley whose life was somehow compatible with Drake’s. Part of it was jealousy of Drake, for having the woman he desired and for having the freedom to pursue her in the way she clearly desired. But before Liam could formulate a response, the door opened and Riley herself joined them. She obviously hadn’t showered or gotten ready as she was wearing flannel pants with cartoon penguins on them, her hair was thrown up in a messy ponytail, and she was wearing her glasses. The sight of her in such casual attire was just startling enough that it took Liam a few seconds to recognize the faded blue sweatshirt she was wearing as Drake’s.

“Sorry,” she said as she looked between the two men, “I would have put on some actual clothes, but I woke up starving. The time zone change is really messing with me.”

“It’s fine, Liu,” said Drake with a wave of his hand, but after a second, he seemed to regret his statement, turning to Liam before asking, “Right?”

“Of course. Feel free to sit anywhere, Riley. Drake was just about to let the kitchen know what you’d like for breakfast.”

“Oh, was he?” said Riley, turning to face Drake fully, grabbing the coffee he offered her from his hands and taking a sip before she continued, “That’s funny, because I don’t remember him asking me what I wanted.”

Drake shook his head. “Last time I asked you about your breakfast order, you told me all you wanted was for me to stop bugging you, so I think I was just abiding by your wishes here.”

Liam felt his response was a little harsh, before Riley responded in kind, “Oh, and you think you know me so well? What were you going to order me?”

“Oh no, you’re here now, so you can tell Edith what you want yourself. I’m not gonna pick something out so you can contradict me to prove a point.”

Edith, who must have been patiently waiting on the other side of the door to the kitchen, entered the dining room at the mention of her name. “What can I get for you, Miss Liu?”

“I’ll have an omelette with ham and pepper-jack cheese,” she said, but upon seeing the gleeful look on Drake’s face, she quickly added, “and mushrooms. Thank you.”

“Wait, you don’t like the mushrooms here.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. You picked them out and started flicking them into Maxwell’s mouth.”

“Oh yeah. So, where did I like-”

“Applewood, remember? They didn’t have pepper-jack there-”

“So I got it with cheddar and mushrooms. He’s right, I don’t want mushrooms.”

Edith smiled and nodded before returning to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Liam stood there, trying to process everything that he just witnessed. If watching Drake prepare her coffee seemed intimate, he now nearly felt voyeuristic. It was somehow overwhelming, watching the two of them play off each other with such ease, such implied history. What at first he thought was the start of a fight had been a back and forth in which they were equal, and clearly willing, participants. It brought back memories of all the times Riley had teased him, back months and months ago, that same little smile when she posed her first question. But where Liam had been anxious, worried he might offend, Drake had no such qualms. He returned the snark in equal measure, and judging by the affectionate looks they had thrown each other through the whole exchange, they both thrived off it. Liam had wanted to woo her gently, to make it clear how special he found her, to treat her like a queen, both literally and figuratively. He’d assumed she’d found attentions charming and flattering. Watching her now, that reality was called into question.

In the weeks since he found out about Drake and Riley, Liam had assumed that his engagement to Madeleine had been the catalyst that pushed them together. It had seemed very plausible that they had bonded while Riley was hurt by his own actions, and that Drake had been there as a friend and support for her. But watching them now, that only felt like half the story. This degree of intimacy didn’t feel like it was built on comfort alone. It required humor, friendship, trust. When that was built, how their connection grew, well that was still hazy in Liam’s mind. Was their relationship something he should have seen coming, should have expected?

But this was a dangerous place for his mind to go, particularly when he needed to focus on preparing some remarks for Lythikos. He needed to get out of here and start his work. That should be his priority.

“Well, I need to leave for Lythikos. Enjoy your breakfast.” Before they could respond, Liam pushed the door open, walking briskly to his office. He needed to get his emotions under control. A king didn’t have time to deal with personal drama.

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

Maxwell came bursting out the door as Drake pulled into the drive in front of the Ramsford estate, waving enthusiastically, and Riley couldn’t help smiling widely as she waved back. The drive to the Beaumont’s had felt much longer than two hours, with Bartie throwing a fit in his car seat after they’d been on the road for only 20 minutes, not calming no matter what Savannah tried. It was only in the last 15 minutes that’d he’d finally fallen asleep. Savannah had asked Drake if he could just keep driving around in hopes of lulling Bartie into a deeper sleep, but the look he shot her through the rear view mirror stopped her in her tracks.

In a way, Bartie’s tantrum had given the three adults in the car something to focus on other than their memories of their awkward dinner. Riley was surprised that Drake had agreed to drive his sister and some of her belongings out to Ramsford, given his thoughts on her upcoming move, but he’d shrugged and said, “She’s made her choice. She’s family, and we’re headed there anyway.” It was hardly a ringing endorsement, but after leaving the palace, they swung by her apartment to load her, Bartie, and several boxes of clothing and children’s toys into Drake’s car.

When Riley climbed out of the car, Maxwell jogged up to her, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Hey, little blossom.”

“Good to see you, Maxwell.”

He quickly greeted Drake and Savannah before grabbing Riley by her hand and dragging her toward the front door.

“Hey, we’ve got boxes here! Aren’t you going to help?” called out Drake, already unloading Savannah’s items from his tailgate as Savannah attempted to remove the car seat from its base without waking Bartie.

“Bertrand’s on his way out to help, but Hana and I need our Riley time.”

And so Riley followed Maxwell through the entry into one of the sitting rooms where Hana was waiting for her. When Hana caught sight of her, she sprung off the couch, striding over to Riley and wrapping her arms around her as she said, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Hana.”

“We waited for you and Drake after the funeral, but we didn’t see you come out of the cathedral.”

“We went to the burial and dinner at the palace.”

“Of course,” said Maxwell, flopping down on the couch, “Come on, Miss Lee here has a lot of things to fill you in on.”

For the next few hours, the three of them shared what had been happening for each of them over the past few weeks. It was so much nicer to sit and talk face to face than to exchange hurried texts or try to find a time for brief phone calls that worked with the different time zones. Between Riley’s tales of crazy customers at the bar and Hana’s reenactment of her rejection of Madeleine, with Maxwell playing Madeleine in what had to be a very over the top manner, Riley found herself laughing harder than she had in weeks. She really had missed this.

Eventually, Drake came in and joined them in the sitting room, a frown etched across his face.

“How’s the moving going?” asked Maxwell.

“Well enough. Thanks for your help, by the way.”

“Hey, I told Bertrand I thought this might not be the greatest idea, but he insisted he knew what he was doing and that they were handling it, so I’ve excused myself from any relocation duties.”

“I think this is a terrible idea too, but somehow I spent the last hour constructing a crib while those two argued about what is an acceptable nap schedule for a 14 month old. How did I end up being the only one roped into their drama?”

“You’re the older sibling, so you feel compelled to be responsible. I have no such delusions about my abilities,” Maxwell said with a laugh before he caught the gruff look on Drake’s face. Once he saw it, he quickly added, “Hey, you’re not the one who’s going to be living with them. Believe me, I’m sure I’ll end up roped into their drama soon enough.”

Drake shrugged, seeming to accept that answer for now, slouching deeper into the armchair before he asked, “So what are you guys talking about?”

“Hana was just starting to tell us what’s happening with her family.”

“Yes, I was just telling Riley that I’m pretty sure my father finally told my mother about the details of our last conversation in Shanghai. I got a voicemail from her basically ordering me to come home or risk being disowned.”

Riley threw her arm around Hana’s shoulder at that. As great as it was to see Hana gain confidence, Riley knew that the fracturing of her relationship with her parents was a very high price for her to pay.

“Hana’s understating it, if you can believe it,” said Maxwell, “I heard the voicemail, and it was horrible.”

“So at this point, it’s only a matter of time until they cut off my finances completely.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Drake.

“She’ll stay here, of course,” Maxwell responded, staring at Drake like he was insane.

“I’m guessing she doesn’t want to sit around the estate all day, getting drafted into providing free childcare.”

“No, not that I mind looking after Bartie here and there, but you are right that I want to do something, to make something of my life. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I think I want to start my own outreach or charitable organization, one that focuses on disaster relief and rebuilding locally owned business after areas are devastated.”

“Wow, you don’t do anything halfheartedly, do you?” said Riley, nudging Hana playfully with her shoulder.

“Oh man, you should see her in action,” said Maxwell, “She’s turned the second dining room into her own little business center, and she’s been talking with different contacts she has all over the globe in a bunch of different industries.”

“I’ve met quite a few people through my father’s business. I figured I might as well see if any of them had any insight or advice for me. They’ve been very helpful with some tips on how to set up revenue streams, and a few of them have put me in touch with some potential investors.”

“Hana, that great!” said Riley.

“That’s not even the best part. Guess where a couple of those investors are headquartered?”

“Really?”

“Yup, I’ll likely be making a trip or two to New York City over the next few months!”

“Oh my god, it’ll be so good to see you again so soon!”

As Riley hugged Hana in excitement, she couldn’t help but notice that Drake had been very quiet since Hana had started sharing her news. Looking over Hana’s shoulder, she saw Drake, rubbing the back of his neck tersely and staring off to the side. As Riley let go of Hana though, Drake turned to face the women.

“It’ll be nice to see you, Hana. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make sure that Savannah doesn’t need the crib moved yet again.” With that, he was up, stalking out of the room and toward the nearest flight of stairs.

“What was that about?” asked Maxwell.

Riley frowned, “I think it’s just his own job worries. He had to quit his temp position to come here for the funeral.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I would have never kept going on and on if I knew that-”

“Hana, don’t worry about it. He’s happy for you; he’s just processing a lot.”

“How are things with you two?” asked Maxwell.

“Good,” replied Riley, not wanting to get into all the complications they’d faced recently.

“Really? Because, no offense, but you guys seem weird.”

“It’s just been stressful getting here for the funeral. Don’t worry, Maxwell. We’re fine.”

Maxwell didn’t seem very convinced by her statement, squinting at her intently, but after a few moments, he must have decided to take her at her word. Riley just had to wonder if she herself believed her own words at all.

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

Drake felt a bit lost, and he hadn’t felt that way in the palace for years. He was trying to find Riley, who had told him she was going to go get cleaned up when they finally got back to the palace. Bartie had puked all over her as she was helping Savannah get the car seat out of his car, and when Leo had run into them in the hallway and wanted to chat, she’d politely declined and headed up the stairs, eager to wash away the day. He’d assumed he’d find her in the shower in his quarters after he finally convinced Leo that he and Riley were not interested in joining him at the casino, but it was dead silent when he entered, and the bathroom was completely dark. He took to wandering the halls around his quarters, hoping to catch sight of her somewhere. Maybe she’d gone to use the bathroom that had been closest to her room during the social season? He started heading in that direction when a voice interrupted him.

“Mr. Walker?”

He spun around. It was a maid who he didn’t remember having ever met before. She looked terrified for having spoken to him.

“Yeah?”

“It’s just… well, I thought that… maybe, you’re looking for Miss Liu?”

Drake gave her a small smile to try and calm her. She wasn’t technically supposed to speak to palace residents and guests without being spoken to first, but he obviously didn’t care about all that protocol shit. She was just trying to be helpful. “Yeah, that’s what I’m doing. Do you know where she is?”

The maid let out a sigh of relief before directing him toward one of the nicer bathrooms around a couple of corners from their current location. He thanked her and headed in that direction, knocking softly on the door when he arrived. “Liu, it’s me. Can I come in?”

A muffled “okay” filtered through the door, so he opened the door slightly and slipped inside. What awaited him on the other side was a sight to behold. There was Riley, lounging in the tub. She was all wet skin, and bubbles that only sort of covered her, and her she was just… fuck. She looked like something straight out of his fantasies. He was finding it hard to keep his arousal in check. They hadn’t slept together since before their big fight, and his body was reminding him of that with a vengeance. He shifted on his feet, tugging on his jeans to find a more comfortable position when he realized Riley was staring at him expectantly. She must have said something.

“Sorry… what did you say?” he somehow managed to spit out without choking on his own words. His tongue felt heavy in his own mouth.

Riley blushed faintly as she smirked at him. She obviously knew exactly what was running through his mind. “I said ‘I was going to just wash off in your shower, but one of the maids saw me and thought I could use a little relaxing.’”

“Right.” His brain was barely processing her statement. He certainly wasn’t about to come up with anything more eloquent as a response.

“Cat got your tongue there?”

“Liu…”

“Well, come on then. This tub is certainly big enough for two.”

Before he could even fully process her words, he felt himself spring into action, tugging off his shirt and tripping just a bit as he tried to remove his jeans before he took off his shoes. Eventually, he succeeded in stripping down, and he moved to step into the tub, Riley sliding to the far end to allow him room. He’d barely submerged himself in the warm water when Riley pushed over to him, straddling him and bringing their lips together in a warm kiss.

It was like a damn broke. All the emotions of the past two weeks, his guilt and shame and anger and frustration and sorrow and regret, flowed through him. It was too much. He choked back a sob, trying to get a grip. His very naked girlfriend climbing onto his lap should not be causing this type of response, but Riley clearly could tell his mood had changed. She pulled back slightly, staring into his eyes like she was trying to read his soul. He couldn’t take the intensity. He was barely holding it together as it was, so he looked away.

Of course, she was having none of that. She always did find a way to cut through his defenses. She grabbed his chin and forced him to make eye contact. “Drake, what’s wrong?”

“Everything,” was all he could choke out before a few stray tears started trailing down his cheeks. She reached out to cup his cheek, but Drake needed her closer. He wrapped his arm around her a pulled her in, holding her tightly enough he was surprised she didn’t say anything. She just wrapped her arms around his shoulders, stroking his neck with a soothing touch.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, but eventually he noticed Riley was trembling in his arms. It was then that he realized that the water had turned downright icy. Pulling back from her slightly, he ran his hands rapidly over her shoulders, trying to provide some warmth, but he was fighting a losing battle against the cold water. After a few moments, Riley moved to stand, kissing the top of his head before climbing out of the tub and wrapping herself in a large white towel, collecting her clothing off the floor. Drake moved to do the same, but noticed that she stopped getting dressed out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My shirt is disgusting, and I didn’t think to grab another one.”

“Here,” he said, thrusting his shirt towards her. He would be fine in just his undershirt.

It felt a little strange, walking through the palace hand in hand, Riley wearing his clothing, like they were flaunting things. At least Liam was in Lythikos for the night, so there was no chance of running into him on their way back to Drake’s quarters. Once they locked his door, Riley led him over to the couch, tugging him down with her as she let out a large sigh. She curled her legs up on the sofa, leaning her head against his shoulder. It was peaceful, comfortable, but Drake couldn’t help feeling uneasy. As comforting as it was to have her next to him, it just seemed like there was a divide between them. That everything they’d been through over the past couple of weeks had twisted and tangled everything they had, and Drake wasn’t quite sure how to start fixing it. Things weren’t bad between them per say, just… harder. Stranger. But where do you start when you probably have to talk about everything?

Riley flipped on the TV, changing the channel to some mindless sitcom to fill the silence. Drake felt her head getting heavy on his shoulder after the first episode. His move to reach for the remote was enough to jostle her awake. Her eyes blinked open and she looked around for a few seconds, trying to get her bearings. She moved to climb off the sofa, but Drake placed his hand on top of hers, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

“Are we going to be okay?”

She smiled at him gently, leaning over and kissing him before she said, “I’m gonna brush my teeth and head to bed, okay?”

He nodded, watching her walk toward his en suite bathroom, wondering if he should read into the fact that she hadn’t exactly answered his question.

Tags: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenofcronuts @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @carabeth @feartheendlesssummer @jovialyouthmusic @gibbles82 @iplaydrake @sirbeepsalot

[sculptorofbeginningslibrary]

Black Eyes & Bloodlust - Chapter 13

My Masterlist

Black Eyes & Bloodlust Masterlist (only works to chapter 11 for now)

Summary: Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

Characters: DeanxReader, Sam, Cas, a few OC’s

Warnings: SMUT so typical A/B/O warnings, Slow burn (and I mean it. SLOW BURN GUYS.) Language, depictions of mental illness, Gore and Violence. (Warnings will apply to all chapters just to cover all the bases.)

Word Count: ~ 4500

A/N: AHHHHH!! Okay so sorry for the fakeout post, but here’s the real thing!! I’ve been dying to get this one out but I wanted it to be as good as I could get it because DUDE....Well just read it, you’ll see what I mean ;)

Beta’d by @justcallmeasmodeus

AS ALWAYS,

ENJOY!

__~*~__

The demon residing within Doctor Mara chuckled as you began to work, stalking your prey with a terrifying focus that surpassed expectations. Catching the girl had been too easy.

You’d walked right up to her and started a conversation like you weren’t a hot mess and convinced her to help you at your car, conveniently located in the deserted parking lot across the street. Maybe being a hot mess had helped sell it, but you weren’t in any condition to question the easy prey.

They’d all been easy, so trusting of a fellow Omega. The memories came easily now, no longer hidden because the darkness wanted you to see what you’d done. You were ready, properly soiled and prepared to leave the bloody nest.

Mara watched from far away, no longer bothering to hide behind a doctor’s uniform. She’d dressed for the occasion, a relaxed pair of jeans and a tight shirt that broadcast how very different she was from her uptight meatsuit. Her demonic sight allowed her to see the moment you’d fisted your hand in the Omega’s hair and kicked her heeled feet from underneath her, bringing her easily to the ground. The Omega’s face smashed into the rocky asphalt, blood welling from the multitude of tiny scrapes. You grinned and pressed your hand to her cheek, adding some of your body weight to smash her harder against the rocks. Her cries appeased the monster in your head, had it purring contentedly as you created the pain it sought.  Your arm pulsed angrily as the tendons stretched with the effort of holding the girl down.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” You purred, straddling her back to feel her body squirming beneath you. She quickly realized your strength was something she couldn’t fight and she stilled, hoping that cooperation would get her out of this alive.

“C--Carrie,” the girl was able to choke out. Your weight on her back was making breathing difficult and she prayed whatever was happening would end soon. “W--What do you w--want?” Her tears flowed freely as she relaxed to the pavement with your lack of an answer, her submissive side giving in to the obviously stronger personality.

Mara let her hands wander her body as she watched you, so in control of the situation. So dark. The girl had stopped squirming and it seemed you didn’t like that from the frown on your face. The demon knew what was coming next as your blade flashed in the street light and sliced slowly across Carrie’s exposed cheek.

Distantly, the sound of an engine roaring cut through the generic city soundtrack and annoying Mara. She knew the sound as well as any demon.The Omega cried out as her skin split, the sound drowning out all others as warm blood oozed from the cut and trailed across her nose and lips. Quite a show indeed.

“Please, don’t...I won’t tell anyone…”

“No, Carrie, you won’t,” you giggled lightly, ignoring the cramps clenching through your body in favor of focusing on the pleasant buzz humming from your arm. You sensed the demon approaching as you flipped the Omega over, but paid her no mind. Her smugness was an aura surrounding her, calling out to you, just begging to be snuffed out.

You would deal with that liar later. She thought she’d won, thought she’d ruined you. She was wrong, she’d made you better, but you could let her believe her own lies for a while longer.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word,” your voice chimed pleasantly as you used the knife to cut down the front of her tight shirt in an effort to get at the Omega’s skin. Your eyes dared the dark creature to make a move as she stopped just short of where you could reach her.

“Stop, p-please I--” you cut off Carrie’s words with a fist to the throat, earning a satisfying gargle as she struggled to breathe and a satisfied laugh from Mara.

“Do you like the makeover I gave you, Y/N?”

“Fuck you, Mara.” You quipped before grinning up at her. “But thank you. You mind telling me what this is all about though? I’m a bit busy.”

You turned back to Carrie and realized you didn’t have the same knife you’d used on all the other girls. You frowned, disappointed you wouldn’t be able to decorate properly before saving her from the hell of her life.

Oh well, you thought. Still gonna have some fun before ripping into this bitch.

Nothing in you thought this was wrong anymore. The only thing you could see was the red of Omega blood and the black tinting every thought you had.

“Hmm...I just really like watching a good plan play itself out.” The wind whipped Mara’s hair around her face and she swatted at it in annoyance. “Don’t mind me.”

Her dismissal was light, and you reminded yourself that nothing she had to say mattered. You were free now. Free to do as you chose and free to share that gift. Why was this Omega still crying? The pain you had inflicted so far was nothing compared to the pain of being alone.

“How about I give you something to really cry about, hmm?” The straight edged blade connected with the flesh over her lowest left rib, ready to slice her wide open and give you a chance to show her the beating of her own heart. You wanted to go slow, but something told you that you were running out of time.

Carrie would have to go quickly.

Your head snapped up halfway through the cut as a car swung into the parking-lot, skidding to a stop over the blood stains of the last Omega you’d killed here. You briefly noted Mara had disappeared, but a small smile quirked the side of your mouth as the memories of that first night flooded in. The first kill. How satisfying it had been to drain her life away and let the first broken slice of your humanity slip away with it. The darkness had taken a life of it’s own inside you since then…it had become you.

You recognized the sound of the engine as the one that had been roaring through the night, but as the door swung open and a man stepped out, a whole new sense of recognition burned through you.

“Fucking Winchesters,” Mara snarled from afar as you rose cautiously from the body beneath you. As you stepped closer to the man, the Omega on the ground took advantage of the distraction. She struggled to her feet and began to run, but didn’t get far before the inhumanly strong Doctor appeared and hauled her struggling form back to the ground. “Hush, girl. I wanna watch the show.” Black eyes were the last thing the Omega saw before she was knocked unconscious.

“Omega.” Dean’s voice cracked as he rounded the car to take in your crazed expression and the bloody knife in your hand. “It’s over.” He stopped just beside Baby’s headlight, hoping to lead you away from your victim as she ran. He wanted to make sure she was okay as she disappeared into the darkness, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Alpha?” You questioned, chest heaving with anticipation. You wondered if you were dreaming again as the world fell away at the sound of his voice. Carrie wasn’t a whisper of thought as the wind shifted, bathing you in his scent.

The same scent from your apartment.

Dean.

He was here.

He was real.

Like a wild animal you ran at him, closing the distance in record time to jump into his waiting arms. When you crashed your mouth to his he immediately took control, meeting your ravenous tongue with his own as you clattered your teeth against his in your battle for dominance. He felt like heaven, and home, and completion, as his arms caught your waist to hold you tightly against him. Without missing a beat he spun you around and slammed your back onto Baby’s hood. “‘Mega,” he growled reverently against your lips as the noise in his mind quieted at your touch. “Lookin’ for you everywhere.” He ground his hips against yours as his rut demanded more contact. More proof. “Got you now, gonna be okay.” His hands cupped your face as he pulled back long enough to catch a glimpse of you up-close. The gold speckles marring the perfect green of his eyes drew you in and grounded you, calming the raging storm within for a split second. When he brought his mouth back to yours you whimpered, happily giving over control of the kiss. His hips rutted his painfully hard cock against you again as your hands clutched at his hair, his neck and his back, searching for the healing skin that would cool your heated body.

You were shoving his jacket off when the sound of a throat clearing broke Dean out of his haze. When he pulled back you snarled angrily, clutching at his shoulders to bring him back to you. With one hand Dean roughly shoved you back down to the hood, his voice like crunching gravel as he spoke. “Stay, ‘Mega.”

Dean held steady as he glared into your mostly black eyes, waiting to see if you would obey. A pathetic whine escaped as you rolled your hips into his, but otherwise remained still.

“Dean,” came the level voice that matched the throat clear. Your eyes snapped to the strange man wearing a trench-coat. His body was shimmering, wavering and glittering in the strangest way.  In that moment it fully clicked that magic, real life magic, existed, and this creature was made of it.

“Cas,” Dean replied stoically, restraint evident in his tone, and his eyes almost vacant as he fought the urge to take your squirming body right there on the hood of his car.

“Dean you can’t do this here.”

Lane’s car came skidding into the lot, stopping with a jerk beside the Impala and stealing everyone’s attention.

“Dean!” Came Sam’s frantic shout as he jumped from the car, and you tried to scramble up to attack him as he came close. You remembered him with the needle; how he’d shot you up with poisonous blood.

“Stop!” Snapped Dean as you moved, earning a lusty moan from you as his dominance was exerted once again. Your Omega purred at being put in her place by the strong Alpha, and you stilled. Your body was pulsing, crying out for him, but you’d been given an order and fuck if it didn’t feel good to have him pressed against you for real.

“Dean, we have to take her and get out of here.”

“Sam is right,” replied the strange being.

“What are you?” You finally managed through the haze.

“He’s an angel now everyone shut up so I can think!” Dean’s roar brought the desired result until a rustling from the woods closest to the gathering drew every eye.

“Well, well...looks like the Winchesters showed up to save the day, like always.”

“What is this, a party?” Dean asked, “What the hell are you doing here? What the hell are you wearing?” He shared a quick look with Sam as he realized that in addition to looking nothing like she had when they’d met, the doctor had no business knowing who they were. Your brow furrowed as you took in the sight of the creature-not-Mara carrying the Omega you’d been carving up. Bloodlust welled up again, replacing the lust of your heat. Dean’s distraction had loosened his grip enough for you to escape, but it wasn’t Sam you were after when you lunged.

“She’s mine!” You snapped, barely getting away before Dean grabbed your waist. He pulled your back to his chest as you struggled to get at Doctor Mara, who’s eyes were now inky-black pools of evil.

“I don’t think so, Y/N. You let her go. I think she’s mine now.”

An inhuman screech wrenched free from your chest as you fought your Alpha, suddenly desperate again for the girl’s blood. “Mine, mine, mine, mine!”

Mara’s chuckle was thick as she dropped the bloody Omega to the ground, the crumpled form staying limp as her head bounced on the concrete.

“So an Angel, a Demon, two brothers and a murderous Omega walk into a bar…”

“Screw you, hell-bitch,” Dean growled. He heard Sam cock his gun and knew he would be aiming it at the Doctor’s head. “I’m not gonna ask you again, what are you doing here?”

“A gun, Winchester?” Mara chuckled, shifting her attention around the small gathering, unaware of the danger hidden on the tip of the chambered bullet. She thought Castiel was the biggest threat, but she was wrong. “You should know better. Then again…” Her heeled shoe nudged at the unconscious woman tauntingly, renewing your efforts against Dean. “...I thought the three of you would have figured it all out much sooner. Guess I gave you too much credit. You are just a bunch of knot-headed Alphas after all.”

“Sam I gotta…” Dean grunted, his cock hardening all over again as your ass raked across his jeans.

“I know Dean. Go. Cas and I got this.”

“Mine!” You howled, clawing at Dean’s arms.

Foolishly, the demon stayed in place when Sam fired the gun. She took the hit, laughing cruelly. “You want her Y/N? I’m gonna kill her if you don’t. Her soul will belong to me. You want that?”

Her taunts sent you over the edge, giving you a burst of strength to break free from Dean and run for the body on the ground. Your soul. Not hers. The demon twitched in an effort to catch you before you made it, but found herself stuck.

“What?” Her eyes flashed black again as she leveled her glare on Sam, snarling furiously. “What did you do?!”

Dean’s arms were around your waist for the third time as he snatched you up inches from the forgotten and bloody knife. He dragged you kicking and screaming away from your would-be victim. Trapped in your rage, you swung around and punched Dean square in the jaw. He was sent reeling back as the demon laughed at the spectacle despite her predicament, but he held his hand out to Sam and Castiel who had started toward you.

“I got this,” he grunted as you slammed into his chest and sent him sprawling to the pavement. Half of your furious punches landed as you mounted his chest, and he felt the bruises forming on his collarbone and cheeks. “Y/N! ‘Mega! Stop!” Dean cried, fending off your attacks and hoping his voice would snap you out of it, but it didn’t. ” You shrieked and pummeled him harder until his hands caught your wrists and he used the momentum to flip you over. You saw stars as your head cracked into the hard pavement, but nothing seemed to slow the blazing rage in control of you.

With his weight pressing into you and his thigh situated between your legs your angry writhing under him quickly turned sexual. You could smell his arousal and feel his hard cock pressing against your clothed core. Your hips bucked insistently, slick pooling and soaking your panties as your biological needs overtook your frenzy. Dean clenched his jaw as he fought to keep you still while the smell of you threatened to drive him just as crazy as you.

The feel of your skin under his was electric, and the Mark was howling in victory. He knew you were feeling it too when your grunts turned to desperate mewls of his name.

“Cas…” He grunted, motioning to the girl on the ground, and the Angel immediately understood what he wanted.

The girl’s life saved, and her memory wiped.

She couldn’t be left to remember you as her attacker. Dean was in damage control mode, already wondering how he was going to keep the world from finding out it was you who’d killed all those innocents.

Dean could barely hold himself in check as he pulled away. With all the strength he could muster he hauled you, still squirming, into the back seat of his car where the doors were locked from the outside. You struggled against unforgiving metal at the forced separation as the door slammed shut in your face while Dean struggled against his rut begging him to jump inside with you and fuck you senseless.

Your body was calling out to his Alpha even from inside the car, your scent curling around his logical side and testing his limits as you kicked and threw yourself around the back of his car.

Your bodies were begging him to take you now.

Begging him to make you his before you were both lost.

He knew he needed to take you and leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so without a little revenge on something, and he was starting to feel like the black-eyed doctor was the reason for your condition. Why else would she be there? How else could she have known?

“You were her doctor the whole time?” Sam asked, his eyes locked to the happy demon as Castiel watched Dean. The older hunter moved to the back of the Impala instead of waiting for the answer to his brother’s question, everyone studiously ignoring the screeching and pounding coming from you in the back seat. They would deal with you soon enough.

“No. Mara was her doctor. I’m a fucking demon. You like what I did to your Omega, Winchester? She’s perfect for you now.” Dean’s rummaging ceased for a moment, but quickly resumed until he found the knife he was looking for.

“Why?” Sam asked, not really expecting an answer but needing to ask anyways.

“For my Queen, for Abaddon. You killed her and now you’ll have to kill Y/N. Wait...If you do, who’s to say she won’t just come back on my side of the fence like Dean did?” The demon’s confident smile made Sam’s blood run cold. Dean had been right all along. “She’s already on her way. You see those eyes?” The demon let out a long, cocky, whistle. “Woo! She’s gonna be so much fun.”

Sam’s mind was reeling. This had happened to you because of them. Another innocent in a long list of victims caught in the supernatural crossfire.

Dean rounded back to face the demon who’d ruined multiple lives and ended even more with her scheming. Abaddon was still ruining his life, even boxed in pieces and scattered.

“I think a more important question is what, Sammy.” Dean’s body was radiating enough heat that the air around him shimmered and the demon felt doubt for the first time. She’d been sure she would get out of this, but now, standing face to face with a former Knight of Hell, close enough to feel the waves of nauseating evil directed at her, she wondered about the intelligence of the plan in relation to her lifespan.

Vindicating Abaddon by killing the man who’d taken her out was supposed to end in victory. Not the demon’s own capture.

Both Sam and Dean noticed the moment Mara knew she was done, and the older Winchester jumped at the chance to properly interrogate the architect of such cruelty. He stepped close, holding the blade so she could see the markings on the smooth surface and understand how close to death she was.

“Tell me. What you did to her.” In another context Dean’s deadly voice would have turned her on as much as watching you torture the Omega had been, but this context held her death within its grasp. After hundreds of years of existence, the thought of ceasing to exist was repulsive.

“Let me go and I’ll tell you.”

“I don’t think so.” The knife cut just behind her right ear and started a slow drag to under her chin. Bright orange light flared and the demon screamed.

“Fuck!”

“Tell me.” Dean’s low voice was barely heard over your shrieks, but the demon answered.

“Fine! I amplified your connection!”

“What? How?” Demanded Sam.

Castiel moved closer to the door of the Impala before appearing beside you, leaving Sam with his gun trained on the stuck demon as she spilled all her secrets to Dean.

The shock of Castiel’s disappearance and reappearance rendered you silent finally, distracting you from your Alpha as he moved back towards the doctor, who apparently wasn’t your doctor. Nothing was as it seemed these days.

Just like your Alpha, who had apparently died but wasn’t dead.

The world seemed awful confusing if you took a second to look at it, but the darkness swallowed it up and replaced it once again with the urge to draw blood. Your eyes landed on the glittering creature beside you. Castiel saw your intentions and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t do that.” The  blue eyes searched your black ones as your attention shifted fully to him, just as he’d hoped.

“Y/N…” he started tentatively. “My name is Castiel.” You blinked in response before hissing as your arm throbbed. “May I?”

Your heart was screaming no, but the real you, the one trapped deep inside your own head, was begging you to obey.

This man was an Angel. Your Alpha said so. Trust him, your instincts whispered, even as your body raged against the idea. Your head turned just in time to see Dean plunge a blade into the chest of the demon, orange sparks flickering through Mara’s head as she collapsed in a grand fashion.

The demon who’d done this to you was dead...but the problem she’d created was still very much alive. Though it didn’t feel like a problem other than the fact that the urges inside of you weren’t being satisfied. Castiel took your arm without prompting, holding it steady as you tried to snatch it away.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m going to help you.” Words of a nasty response died in your throat as his hand closed over the rash. Between your skin and his, a brilliant blue light flared, sending ice through your veins as the oozing flesh knit back together.

It seemed he was doing something else as well when your body suddenly dropped against the cool leather of the seat, unable to hold itself upright any longer.

You felt your breathing increase as the inside of the car seemed to shrink, heat pulsing and writhing within you until it felt like you’d explode. The Mark was burning as he removed his hand, but the sleep that had eluded you for so long was fast taking over, making all thought pointless.

Sam and Dean watched the proceedings from the window until they heard the Omega stirring on the ground. Sam was at her side in an instant, his large shoulder soaking up her frightened tears as he gathered her small body into his arms and cradled her like a child.

“We did it, Dean.” Sam tried to smile as Dean turned from sight of your unconscious body, a defeated look in his eyes. His thoughts were trained on you even as he observed the damage you’d wrought. He wanted to feel for the girl, but all he could see was his tortured Omega. The one who’d been broken, possibly beyond repair, because of a connection to him.

As Sam cooed gently to the girl Dean wondered how the demon had found you. How she’d known you were his when he hadn’t. Watching Sam and your would-be victim, Dean decided it was a problem for another time. The damage was done.

“Did we, Sam?”

The younger Winchester’s shoulders slumped, realizing that Dean wouldn’t allow himself the smallest victory.

Castiel appeared at Dean’s side, his hand coming to rest on the hunter’s shoulder. Dean looked hopefully from Castiel to you and back, but Castiel shook his head.

“I couldn’t remove The Mark from her Dean. But I did what I could.”  A single tear escaped Dean’s eye as he surveyed the damage.

A doctor was dead. Another Omega was tortured and almost murdered by his own and a perfectly innocent girl had been turned into a monster. His girl had been turned into a monster.

He could only hope that Castiel had helped enough, that he could help enough, to keep you from going off the rails again.

“What did you do?” Sam asked as he stood, effortlessly carrying the girl.

“I hit the reset button. She is as she was when we cured Dean of being a demon.”

“You couldn’t...” Sam let his question hang, unfinished.

“No,” Castiel replied, his eyes falling to the ground.

“So if we don’t cure the Mark…”

“...We’ll be right back here again.” Dean finished for Sam.

Every life you’d taken crashed to Dean’s feet as the implications of your situation settled to his shoulders. Sam knew the look and started to speak, but his own guilt settled around him like a heavy fog and shut him up. This was as much his fault as anyone’s.

If he’d listened to his brother…

“No.” Castiel answered, accidentally hearing Sam’s thoughts. “None of this is on either of you. This is on Abaddon and her followers.”  Castiel’s confident voice grated on Dean’s last nerve.

“How can you say that? How can you say this isn’t any of our fault? We did this Cas. All of it! We ignored all the signs and suddenly the fucking Winchester curse strikes again and you wanna pretend that’s not on us? Bullshit.”  His rut was pushing his rage deeper, redirecting it now that the demon was dead and he still couldn’t have you. “A demon may have pulled the trigger but we gave it the fucking gun. Now clean up our god-damned mess so we can fix my Omega!”  

“Dean, I don’t think--”

“We’re gonna fucking fix it, Cas!” Both Sam and the girl in his arms jumped as Dean slammed the door to the Impala and peeled out. It was the second time in as many hours that Dean had left Sam to clean up the mess they’d made.

Castiel sighed deeply as Baby’s roar faded away. “Sam…”

“I know Cas.”

“They’re both ready to mate. We don’t know what will happen if--when--he claims her.” Sam closed his eyes as the girl burrowed her face into his chest, sobbing freely.

“I know, Cas. Can we just deal with one thing at a time? Please?” When Sam’s eyes opened Castiel could see the exhaustion and the guilt, so he simply nodded.

The Angel placed his hand on the girls head, putting her to sleep before sifting through and replacing her memories of her harrowing evening with those of a mugger.  “You’ll have to take her wallet.”

“Alright,” Sam whispered, “let’s get her to the hospital. And get that out of here.” He motioned to the crumpled body of Doctor Mara, feeling bad for what had happened to the woman who owned the meatsuit.

Just another innocent. Or maybe she wasn’t, but her name was still added to the list. Sam worried over how long that list would be by the time this was finished.

__~*~__

Hours passed and you still hadn’t woken. Tucked snugly in the motel bed and wrapped in his arms, Dean had assumed your heat would wake you enough to relieve the both of you from this torture, but he’d been wrong.

He’d taken a freezing shower and teased himself to completion with his nose buried in your hair twice, but still you slept. He felt creepy, but it was the only thing keeping him from taking you while you slept. You were his, and waiting was becoming painful.

With you so close but not touching him, the music in his head was thunderous. He wondered if you were dreaming, but your eyes were completely still under the lids.

His thumb caressed your closed eyelids as he thought about the Bible he’d found. The eyelids you’d cut off. Why had you done that? Maybe when you woke you could tell him.

An idea formed in his mind as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Castiel had healed your body and mind to the best of his ability, but you were still dirty from the tumble in the parking lot. The bags under your eyes were gone, your skin was supple again and the rash on your arm was now just a faded red mark, but it still matched his own. You twitched as his shirt brushed over it, pulling your arm close but rolling into his embrace and burrowing your scorching body into his enveloping aura of safety.

Dean’s eyes closed as he wrapped you in his arms and held you like he would never let go. He felt like he was still in a dream, but your scent flooding his nose let him believe you were finally real.

After a while, he reluctantly let you go and silently made his way to the Impala. Dean shoved away the duffle bags hiding his weirdest secret.

The keyboard was still in the box, and he lugged it grudgingly inside.

The demon version of him had known how to play it because of his connection to you, despite how much he hated it.

Now he wondered if he could pull that skill back up to play for you, to wake you. After all, he’d heard it a million times in his head already, and Lane had said it was your favorite song.

__~*~__

Questions? Comments? Incoherent screaming?

Bring it on!

🖤

__~*~__

Story Tags:

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4ever&ever Tags:

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Dean Tags:

@adoptdontshoppets​ @akshi8278​ @bobasheebaby​ @paranoiadestroyah​

[rueitae]

To Sail, To Break, To Earn - Chapter Two

Remember when I said these subsequent chapters would be short? This chapter is 4500 words.

And now, the Plance interaction begins. @sp4c3-0ddity tag you’re it.

Prologue

Chapter One

~~~~~

A mermaid. They actually had a mermaid with precious little time to spare. The condition to break the curse could be met. Haggar wouldn’t be happy to give up her potential puppets so easily, so perhaps they’d have to fight her once more, but they would at least be free of the curse.

Lance should be happy.

He feels miserable instead, nearly sick to his stomach.

It’s been hours and her face still haunts him. He recognizes her eyes, a clear echo of his younger self, although her fear and heartache were far more justified than his had ever been. Unthinkable what-ifs worm into his mind, of his parents refusing to submit to the hostage demands. Would the crew have killed him at a time when they hadn’t known him as well?

Lance dismisses the traitorous thoughts. The Blade of Marmora pirates are not - and never were - cold-blooded killers; he’s seen that firsthand throughout the years.

But no matter their moral code, having a mermaid in the brig put them all on a figurative sandbar.

“There is no discussion,” Kolivan says to the circle of assembled crew. “Waiting until the last moment is too cruel. The heart must be taken now.”

Frenzied debate breaks out among the veteran members. While most agree it must be done, having the mermaid physically aboard gives many second thoughts, Lance included.

He sighs and goes about his appointed task of checking the mermaid’s possessions, something to help keep busy while the crew debates. He shifts around for a more stable seat on the rigging that he and Keith watch from.

“It’s not fair,” Lance says. He sifts through the bag’s contents with one hand, feeling mostly smooth rocks and the ridges of seashells.

“Most things in life aren’t,” Keith replies evenly.

“There has to be something else we can do,” Lance stresses, turning to his friend. “Haggar said we had to earn the heart of a mermaid. Cutting out her heart and taking it doesn’t sound like earning to me.”

Keith shrugs. “She did surrender of her own free will. I’d call that earning.”

Lance deflates in exasperation and peers into the satchel. “We were kidnapping her dad.”

“It kind of counts?” Keith says. “Look, I don’t really want her dead either, Lance, but if we don’t break this curse not only do we have a fate worse than death, but Zarkon gets an immortal crew that follows his commands to the letter. None of us want that for ourselves or for the world. If there was another way we’d all jump on it.”

Lance’s fingertips brush a couple strange objects. He pulls out a handheld pipe and a pair of spectacles minus their lenses and wonders use would a mermaid have for these.

Lance leans back and throws his hands up, landing in a cluster of rope. “This sucks. I thought a pirate’s life was supposed to be carefree and simple. We’re supposed to be raiding ships, wooing the ladies, and just generally having a good time.”

“Maybe some of us, not you,” Keith ribs with a smirk on his face. “You’re the least pirate out of all of us.”

A sting pierces his heart, but he continues smiling despite it. He knows Keith doesn’t mean to hurt him, not like this, but by the Ancients Lance thought he was past this.

“What?” he jokes back. “You’ve see my charms firsthand. The ladies we rescue love me.”

A grey, long-haired cat poofs into existence on top of Lance’s currently horizontal stomach. He isn’t surprised by Kosmo’s appearance but gasps and shoots back to a sitting position when the teleporting cat uses his belly as a launching pad. He takes the mermaid’s frames and poofs away.

“Can you please control your cat?” he tells Keith in annoyance and points at the bag in his lap. “I’m going to have to give this back eventually.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Kosmo has more charm than you,” he jabs with a teasing glint, but quickly frowns when his eyes flicker to the deck of the ship. “If you want to give the bag back to her, you’d better do something now. Otherwise you may not get a chance.”

Kolivan has broken off from the group with Krolia and Antok, making their way down towards the brig. Before Lance can even think about what he’s doing, he climbs down and rushes to stand in their way.

“There’s got to be another way,” he pleads.

“This isn’t up for debate, Lance,” Krolia says. She steps forward. “Move aside.”

Lance blocks her path “Doesn’t this feel wrong to you? We haven’t earned anything. We’re going to kill her for nothing.”

“And you have an alternative?” Kolivan asks. “Lance, you cannot put yourself in her position. It isn’t the same.”

Lance knows it’s a rhetorical question, but he can’t not say anything. “I’m cursed just the same as everyone else,” he blurts. “Haggar looked into my head for this part, so I should have some say in this,”--he crosses his arms defiantly--“and I say we keep looking for another way.”

There, that ought to show them.

“If you want a say in this then you must be prepared to cut her heart out yourself,” Kolivan responds. “Is that something you are willing to do?”

Lance gapes like a fish, unprepared for the ultimatum. He’s killed before, but never an unarmed civilian - let alone a mermaid! The phrase ‘shooting fish in a barrel’ becomes uncomfortably real.

Phrase. Haggar never said they needed to literally take a mermaid’s heart. She’d used the word ‘earn’.

“I won’t have to,” Lance says. He beams at the revelation. “Maybe all she has to do is say ‘I love you’ and that’ll be it. I - I’ll pull out all the stops, Candlelit dinners, flowers somehow, the best compliments!”

Krolia raises an eyebrow and side-eyes Kolivan, awaiting his reaction. Antok says nothing, but his aura judges Lance’s plan.

“We’ve discussed the curse being metaphorical before,” Kolivan states. “It is unlikely such a superficial act will work. Are you willing to put both of your hearts on the line to gain a true bond? If you fail, she will end up suffering tenfold before death, and you will live with it.”

“It's worth trying,” Lance says quickly. “I know if I were given a choice, I’d try anything.”

He bites his lip; he hadn’t meant for that to be so direct.

Kolivan is silent for a long moment, hopefully considering Lance’s words.

“This is our last chance,” he says evenly. “You have until the day before the century mark. If the curse has not broken, then you will cut out her heart.”

Lance barely registers the last part. He salutes, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you, Captain!” The mermaid will be safe for the time being. “I’ll start right away!”

“Do not tell her about the curse,” Kolivan says, pulling him up short. “It may be best to let her live in ignorance for a while longer. Do you understand?”

He frowns under Kolivan’s intense stare. “What am I supposed to say when she asks?”

“You’re a pirate, Lance,” Krolia offers with a sigh. “You don’t have to say anything.”

But he isn’t. Not really. His situation makes no difference to the mermaid though, so pirate he’ll be.

“All right,” Lance concedes. “I won’t tell her about the curse.”

Kolivan nods in approval. “Have Keith help you with the mermaid’s needs. That will be your principal duty from now on. I’ll take someone off weapons maintenance to help with food preparation.”

Lance’s mouth twitches into a grin. He’ll get to flirt on duty and order Keith around? Today is shaping up to be a good day.

~~~~~

The enthusiasm fades as he descends the stairs to the brig, where they keep the mermaid mostly out of principle. She can’t survive long out of the water-filled barrel, so putting her behind bars seems unnecessary.

As much as Lance wants to help her, he has no idea where to start. What does he even say?

It’s been so long since his own kidnapping. He tries to remember who said what to him, or how long he wanted to be alone, but he only has fleeting memories of Krolia placing a sword in his hands and late-night chats with Keith while trying to fall asleep.

He remembers being busy, but the mermaid won’t have the luxury of distraction.

Maybe that’s what he can give her.

Lance opens the barred door, the irons thick and flat. It creaks, unused and unoiled in decades (he’ll fix it later), and he winces. She had to know he was here now. “Hey,” he says, raising his voice just above normal. “You still in there?”

He wants to slap himself for his stupid question. “O-obviously you’re still there. What I mean, is everything okay?” he wonders as he draws closer. Water trickles over the side of the barrel, displaced by the creature - person - inside. “Comfortable? I know it’s not the most spacious place. Maybe I can get you something to make it a bit better?”

No answer.

He takes a deep breath in and out, upper body rolling in sync. Adjusting the one good strap of the mermaids backpack around his shoulder, he steps forward and cautiously peers into the water.

It’s darker here in the hold, so it’s hard to make out the figure at the bottom at first.

His nose finds her first. Despite being part fish, why did mermaids have to smell like them too? The stories never prepared him for this.

When his eyes adjust, he can see that hers are closed. Her tail, twice as long as the rest of her body, twitches like Kosmo’s does when he’s in the midst of a dream.

She didn’t hear a word he said.

Lance releases the breath he was holding. At least her nap spares him embarrassment.

He probably should leave her be; that’s what he thinks he would want but… she’s mesmerizing. Lance still remembers the twelve-year-old inside of him fascinated with mermaids and wanting so badly to meet one, how amazing it is that a humanoid could live underwater naturally. A memory from another lifetime resurfaces, of him pretending to be a mermaid on the beach with his siblings, of him ducking in and out of the water to scare his sisters and his father joking that perhaps he was born to be a fish after all.

And now because of the curse, he’s confined to the water he loves so much.

She won’t notice if he stays for just a bit longer. He wants to commit what she looks like to memory. He can try making nice with her another time.

Seaweed drapes her torso, concealing everything it needs to . Growing up on a ship with a mixed crew, there’s little he’s a stranger to, but he’s relieved merfolk have similar modesty standards to humans. He doesn’t want to be caught gawking for more than one reason.

Long auburn hair and a pale upper half is where any physical commonality ends. Dark green scales - nearly black submerged in water - dot her arms and back and thicken at her wrists. Lance follows the ribbing along the top of her tail, which curls around the edges of the barrel with the fins tickling her face. His heart thumps in regret when her thinly webbed fingers clutch above the fins, as if seeking comfort from something familiar.

He knows with certainty that’s what she’s doing.

Only the threat of the curse on him and the crew keeps him from just letting her free right this minute.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He dares to grip the edge of the barrel and dip his fingers in the water. “I hope you can forgive us one day.”

The mermaid's eyes flash open. A surprised gasp barely escapes him before angry red eyes find him.

She launches herself up.

Lance steps back, heart pounding. He isn’t fast enough, and sharp needle-like teeth sink into his forearm.

He screams from the pain, falling to the floor and sliding away, clutching his arm to stop the bleeding.

“Hey, that hurt!” he exclaims indignantly once he realizes he’s not going to die from the wound. He’s had worse, and being immortal has some perks.

He meets her guarded hazel eyes, the hint of fear unmistakable. Her scaled fingers grip the edge of the barrel, but her mouth is still underwater.

“Good!” she snaps, but her voice cracks despite her indignation. “It’s supposed it!”

A beam of sunlight from a barred vent in the ceiling hits her thickly scaled cheeks, making her face look unworldly thin and scales shine yellowish-green. It’s gorgeous, the way she can seem so dark and mysterious underwater and bright and youthful above.

She must be stunning in the sunshine…

(He admonishes himself for hating the overcast skies from when they took her aboard.)

Her thinly webbed earlobes twitch, their rectangular shape odd but the action obviously annoyed.

His jaw snaps shut when he realizes he’s gaping.

“It’s bad enough you’re keeping me here, but are you all planning on watching me while I sleep? It’s creepy. Can’t you just leave me alone?” She sinks lower into the water and he can no longer see her flat, scaly nose.

The dark blue puffs around her eyes aren’t scaled, but they don’t seem to fit with the rest of her face. Did mermaids cry water underwater?

Oh. Of course she’s been upset.

“No!” he retorts. “I just came to see if I can get you anything. It gets lonely down here.”

She hisses, “I don’t need company from any human!” She ducks down with a splash, hiding from view.

The blood drains from his face as his brain scrambles for context. He lifts his bloodied hand from his wound and sees that he’ll need to see Doctor Ulaz for disinfectant. He knows stories of legendary beings from both land and sea, one of his favorite pastimes. What if…

“I’m not going to turn into a mermaid, am I?” he frets. But it would be preferable to the curse he already lived under, and he wouldn’t need pants anymore. Less laundry!

She doesn’t respond.

Lance considers leaving, frustrated with his lack of success, but he remembers why he’s there. Her life is on the line. He has to at least make an effort to be friends.

And the child inside wants to know more about her.

He stands and clears his throat, confidence rising in the simple action. “We got off on the wrong foot, or tail for you I guess. I’m sorry for staring at you. I won’t do it again. My name’s Lance.”

He waits for her to reply with her name. After an uncomfortably long silence, he continues, “Look, I know you have no reason to trust any of us, but two months is a long time to not talk to anyone.”

Her eyes break the surface once more, this time looking uncertain and vulnerable. “How long is two months?” she asks.

“About sixty days,” he says patiently. “A sunrise and sunset make a day.”

“Oh, sixty quintants.” She gulps, diverting her eyes. “What happens to me after that?”

Lance isn’t sure how to answer without revealing her role in lifting the curse. She deserves to know, he knows she does, but he doesn’t want to risk losing a tentative thread of friendship this early when it could save her life.

But he pauses too long, and she thankfully continues into a nervous ramble.

“Am I going to one of those… menageries? A—a lot of the sea creatures have relatives who end up in one. I’ve heard they aren’t too bad, once you get used to land walkers watching you all the time. As long as there’s room to swim and the water has good circulation.”

Her hands shake. Lance isn’t sure what comes over him, but compassion for both her true predicament and guessed one outweighs the fear of being bitten again.

“I won’t have to forage anymore,” she adds. “And there will be plenty of others to talk to. Maybe we’ll know the same folk.” She perks up. “Maybe they’ll know my family! I’ll never see them again but maybe the seals can take mes — “

On a chance, Lance takes her hands in his. They are cool and smooth to the touch, and he can’t help running a thumb over the scales. She stops trembling but does not pull away.

“I still want to see the human world. Maybe whoever is in charge will have some interesting things for me to see.”

“Is that why you carry this bag of junk?”

Her eyes widen when he shows that he has it with him, and she rises to her chest out of the water, ripping her hand away. “That’s mine! Give it back!”

Lance holds the satchel up and away from her. This is his chance to find out her interests fast. “You’re really interested in this stuff?”

“Not anymore thanks to you!” she yells, swiping for it and missing.

His heart freezes in horror as she leans over for it with her sharp claws fully extended, her abdomen a fulcrum and the barrel on the verge of tipping over.

Lance drops the bag and steadies the barrel, preventing more water from spilling to the floor.

But the mermaid strains for the bag and flops out, her tail slapping him squarely in the face.

“Ow!” he whines, clutching his sore nose. He intends to say more but reconsiders when she clutches the bag to her chest as if it was a lifeline.

Half the water is spilled thanks to the incident. Lance needs to fill it again, but more importantly he needs to get her back in.

“We’re not all bad, you know,” he says weakly. He senses he repeats words someone once told him, and it makes him ill delivering the message himself and meaning it.

“Then why did you kidnap me? Why did you take my things?” she demands without loosening her grip on the bag. “We did nothing to earn this.”

Lance winces at her choice of words, guilt eating him from the inside. “I had to make sure there was nothing dangerous to us in there,” he says, dodging the first question. “I was going to give it back to you.”

Her eyes grow wide in surprise and possible embarrassment. “You went through my treasures?!”

“I wouldn’t call them treasures,” Lance admits. “That pipe is useless underwater, and it’s just rocks and seashells. You can find those anywhere. Your necklace looks like a real gem though. That might be worth something.”

The mermaid encases the green stone centerpiece with one hand - Lance is positive it’s an emerald - and glares. “What kind of humans are you?”

“This is a pirate ship and most of us aren’t even human,” Lance says. “I’m the only one, actually. Everyone else is Galra. Well, except Keith, but he’s only half-Galra so he looks human. You… can’t tell the difference?”

Her mouth flaps open. “I thought humans were just that biologically diverse.”

Oh Ancients, they’ve captured a scientist.

She sighs in resignation. “I wish I could make note of all this. Are humans and Galra the only — “ She wheezes, choking on the air.

Time was up for her drying gills.

Lance scoops her up, muscles conditioned after decades at sea. He dips her head first into the water, making sure her gills are functioning and at rest before letting her tail slide in.

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning over to look into the barrel.

The mermaid curls up on the bottom like when he first arrived, but her eyes are closed in relief rather than sleep.

“I’m fine,” she says. “I hate this water. It’s so stale.”

Despite her complaint (or rather because of it), her gills open wide to take in water for several seconds, before she sits upright, the waterline only up to her shoulders.

“You said I had a pipe. What’s a pipe?”

“The pipe?! You almost died and you’re worried about your knickknacks?” he says, incredulous. “I need to get you more water. I’ll change it every couple of hours from now on.” He straightens to leave to do just that.

“Wait,” she says, grabbing his arm. He turns to see her desperate look. “Don’t leave. The human things were gifts from my family. I’ve wanted to know what they really are since forever. I can deal with a little stale water until then.”

Lance sees the break he’s been looking for and somehow stumbled upon. He melts at her touch, relaxing even though he shouldn’t with her obvious discomfort.

He hopes her request doesn’t end up being her last one.

“It’s the five tubes of metal tied together,” he says.

The mermaid digs through her bag with vigor. She finds the correct object, but her face scrunches in confusion. “It’s not here!” she says, voice rising with increasing panic. “Matt’s wires are missing!” She glares at him. “What did you do with them?”

“I didn’t take anything!” he defends. “I put everything back in the bag except — “

Except for the glasses that Kosmo snatched, he realizes with dread. Probably the wires she’s talking about.

Lance is used to Keith’s cat, so he isn’t surprised when he teleports in at the exact moment he’s needed with the frames in his mouth, walking delicately along the rim of the barrel.

Lance is used to cursed cats.

The mermaid is not. She shrieks, dropping the bag and stiffening, backing up as far as she can.

“Go bother Keith,” Lance grumbles as he takes the frames and shoos the cat off with a wave. Kosmo jumps down without a sound and poofs off to his next haunt.

“What was that?” she squeaks.

“Keith’s magical cat,” Lance says, rolling his eyes. “Kosmo catches all the rats that stow away. He’s harmless and been here longer than me. He just takes a bit to get used to. We had all kinds of fun with him when we were kids. It was almost like having a dog.”

The mermaid stares blankly at him. “What’s a cat?”

Lance isn’t often caught speeches, but how does one explain a cat? “One of those?”

“Obviously,” she says, rolling her eyes. “What is its species name? It’s a land animal so perhaps — “

“I’ll tell you if you tell me your name,” Lance interrupts. “I mean, I won’t force you, but I really don’t want to keep calling you ‘mermaid’ the whole time.” To increase the incentive, he holds the frames out to her.

She takes it, as if it was a precious glass figurine. “Thank you,” she murmurs, and ducks back underwater.

When she emerges again, she’s wearing the frames.

Behind her head.

“You can call me Pidge,” she finally says.

Lance grins, heart filling with joy. This crazy plan might actually work. No one will have to die. He just has to get her to say those words.

“Well, Pidge,” he says, enjoying how easily her name rolls off the tongue, “your first human lesson is how to properly wear glasses.” He leans over and plucks them off her head, before gently resting them in front of her eyes.

Not having a nose causes complications and they fall down her face. She scowls. “What’s the point in that?”

Lance laughs. “Humans use them to see better. Normally they have glass in them, so we call them glasses. Doctor Ulaz has a working pair. I guess it doesn’t work for mermaids.”

Pidge stares down cross-eyed before placing the glasses back the way she had them, more like a hat. “I like it better this way. What’s a cat? And what’s a dog? And the differences between Galra and human - and what do my pipes do?” she asks, holding up the device. “I want to know everything.”

“Okay okay, one thing at a time!” Lance stresses. “Mammals. That’s the term you’re looking for. That’s what humans and Galra are too.”

“Fascinating,” Pidge breathes in wonder. “I knew there had to be more of them on land like seals. Maybe I’ll get to see some more when I”--her smile falters for just a blink of an eye,--“get to the menagerie.”

Lance refuses to go down that road of conversation right now.

“Yeah, sure. Those pipes are pretty cool though. You can play a song with them.”

Pidge lights up. “I knew it was a musical instrument! I knew it and no one believed me!” She thrusts it into his face, and he has to lean back to avoid getting hit. “Can you play it? I want to know what it sounds like. I want to know how it works!”

Lance examines it once it’s in his hands. He hasn’t played one of these since Antok’s was lost to the sea in an incident that was absolutely not his fault. He smirks. It was easy enough then, it should be no problem now. Plus, it’s another opportunity to impress Pidge.

“I should be able to play a few notes,” he brags.

Pidge doesn’t seem to mind the obvious posturing; she rests her elbows and chin on the rim of the barrel, eagerly awaiting his performance.

So he plays, blowing softly into each tube. The melody is terrible and he can’t remember a single song, but it seems to be pitched well even after years underwater.

Pidge is enraptured. A smile remains on her face and her ears wiggle with delight.

It’s incredibly cute and endearing.

He finishes and she claps excitedly for him. “That was amazing! It’s so different from dolphin and whale calls!”

His heart flutters from the praise. He didn’t grow up in the absence of it, but he could never see past the underlying obligation behind the words. Pidge doesn’t know his story, and now that they seem to be getting along, there was no need to tell her.

He’s about to thank her when the cellar door slams open.

“Lance!” Keith yells, nearly out of breath. “We found the Vrepit Sa. It’s alone. We’ll be on her in an hour!”

The pride of Zarkon’s fleet, alone. Ripe for picking off and causing a crippling blow to the pirate king himself.

They’ll never get another chance to weaken Zarkon with only two months before the curse expires. They have to do whatever they can to take him down before they’re unable to resist his commands.

“I’ll be right there!” he calls back.

Keith acknowledges him with a nod and runs off to prepare his own post, Kosmo at his heels.

“What’s going on?” Pidge asks. She looks around wildly, pausing to watch a few crewmembers run across the vent above her. “What are you doing?”

Lance smirks, energy building and escaping through twitching fingers. “What pirates do best: raid ships.