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axoxtxhxh · 4 years ago

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First Date with the Vets - Erwin

Big shoutout to @chaotic-nick for making this lovely banner for me!

Overall Summary: I had this idea to do a first date with the vets and what it would be like. I am including Erwin, Levi, Miche, and Hange in this list. Each date will be different, but all of them will be set in modern au.

Check out Miche’s story here, Levi’s story here, and Hange’s story here

Pairing: Erwin x Fem!Reader

Content: Nearly all fluff

Word Count: ~ 6,100

Summary: Reader is on her way home to get ready for her blind date when she runs into a handsome stranger on her way home. On her way up to her apartment to get ready, the elevator breaks down with her and the handsome stranger stuck inside.

You were a little over a block from home, nearly running with your small bag from the convenience store clutched tightly in your hand. You hated running late. It didn’t really matter what the scheduled engagement was, you made it a point to always be the first one to show up. Today’s engagement was no different, but leave it to you to rip a hole in your pantyhose as you were getting dressed.

Your best friend, Fen, had set you up on a blind date with one of her co-workers. You hated blind dates, not to mention Fen had terrible taste in men. She had been begging you to at least meet him for a couple months now, but you kept finding reasons not to. The last time she asked, you ran out of reasons. So here you were, running back home ten minutes before he was supposed to arrive. With any luck, he will be as terrible as you expect and show up late, maybe not at all.

You turned down an alleyway, trying to save time by cutting through the side streets and picked up speed seeing your apartment building up ahead. The shortcut was quickly turning out to be a bad idea. There was only one streetlight all the way at the end and you couldn’t see anything, especially the puddle you barely missed, splashing dirty water on your leg. Perfect.

You rounded the corner quickly, ready with your key in your hand to unlock the lobby entrance when you slammed into the back of a large body standing in front of the door. Pushed back by the impact, you dropped your keys and bag on the floor, the cheap convenience store pantyhose rolling to the feet of the person you slammed into.

“Oh gosh. I’m sorry.” You reached down to pick up your stuff when the hand of the person reached it before you. A very large, strong hand with perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around the small plastic case of your pantyhose, holding it up to you.

Your eyes followed up his long arms. You could see how well-built he was even through the brown suit jacket he wore over a white button-down shirt, the top buttons undone so you could see the top of his strong chest. He had to be at least 6’2. Tall and broad.

“It’s my fault.” His ocean-blue eyes sparkled as his lips curled into a smile revealing his bright, white and honestly, dazzling smile. You almost giggled at the sight of him. “I shouldn’t make a habit of lurking in doorways.”

“It’s—uh, it’s not a problem.” You smiled, your eyes locked with his while you fumbled with your keys. Any other night. Any other night you could have stayed and chatted with this handsome stranger. But instead you had to race upstairs to finish getting ready. Your miserable Friday night was getting worse.

You finally fit your key into the keyhole and got the door unlocked, pushing it open. The handsome stranger helped you, holding it open and holding his hand to his stomach as he gestured you through. Damn, he even smelled good.

You moved quickly to the elevator, pushing the call button and trying not to focus on the handsome stranger following closely behind you.

“If you’re going to anything lower than the fifth floor, you might as well take the stairs,” you recommended, looking up to him, “this elevator takes so long, you could probably get there faster by walking.”

“I appreciate that information.” He smiled, pulling out his phone and clicking quickly, scrolling through. You used the opportunity to look at how you looked through the elevator doors.

What a hot mess you were in that moment. Your hair was a mess, your face red and sweaty, the bulky man’s coat you grabbed quickly on your way out the door hung on you like your dad’s t-shirt when you a child. The only redeeming thing about your look was your skirt. You had just bought the camel pencil skirt you were wearing a couple days ago, finding the high-slit a bit too sexy for your office, but it worked perfectly for a date night. The bottom hem shared the same dark stain from the rainwater as your legs and shoes did.

You sighed. Your shoes. You had on some old sneakers, knowing you needed to make the quick run to the store. It could have been that cute sexy-casual look if your shoes had still been white. Now they were brown and grey and smelled like a wet dog. Any chance you had in imagining this Greek god standing next to you would give you a second look were thrown out the window.

You could now see how well he was dressed. He had that dark academia look about him that made you weak. His slim-fit tweed herringbone pants accentuated the length of his legs and somehow made him look even taller, his blonde hair perfectly parted and smoothed back. He looked up from his phone and put it in his pocket.

“Looks like I’ll be taking the elevator with you.” He turned to look at you. “If you don’t mind the company.”

“Of course not.” You smiled back, biting your lip to hide your excitement. Maybe the night would be picking up after all.

The elevator dinged and the doors creaked open shakily. He held his arm out again, gesturing you inside first. It was honestly a bit unfair at how much of a gentleman he was. You dipped your head down and scurried in to hold the doors for him.

He stepped in after you and you pressed the close-door button, followed by eight, your floor. Turning to him, you noticed him staring at the buttons and asked which floor he needed.

“Eight as well.” He put his arms behind his back, and looked back at the door. You turned to face the door, mirroring him as you thought about which lucky woman on your floor was getting a visit from him. Possibly lucky man? Either way, someone was going to be having a great Friday night.

You filled your cheeks with air, puffing them up as you tried not to let yourself glance at him through the elevator doors. The building was old, the elevators dark, but it really was only the two of you and you were sure it seemed pretty obvious that you were staring.

Your eyes moved up to the numbers indicating which floor you were passing. Still only at the third floor, you let yourself peek at him from the corner of your eyes then turned your whole head when you thought he was staring at you. It turned out, he was only staring at the numbers and he quickly turned his eyes to you when he saw you turn to look at him. Damn it, you did that uncomfortable thing. You smiled and hoped that you seemed friendly and not creepy and stalker-like.

“You were quite right about the speed of the elevator.” He chuckled, a low hum that vibrated off the walls. “It’s exceptionally slow.”

You looked back at him, his teeth gleaming even in the darkness of the elevator. Was he trying to make small talk? You smiled to yourself at the attempt, assuming that’s what it was.

“It’s a pretty old buil—” The elevator slammed to a halt and cut your sentence short, both of you falling back. You reached for the rail next to you to brace yourself. The elevator lights flickered before turning off, seconds passing before the emergency lights came on.

“I take it that’s not supposed to happen.” You turned to him and shook your head.

“This is not happening.” You said aloud, more to yourself than anything. You were already running late and now this? You moved to the elevator buttons and started pushing them randomly, knowing they wouldn’t work, but hoping that your frustration was enough to get it started.

“I’m not getting a signal.” The man was holding his cell phone up in the air, trying to get a signal. “Do you want to try yours?”

You nodded and pulled out your cell phone. No bars. You tried holding it up, not reaching nearly as high as he was able to and finally trying to jump a little, trying to catch the reception you hoped sat at the ceiling. The man just stood there smiling at you until you finally noticed and you quickly turned away to hide your embarrassment.

“Maybe the phone here.” You opened the phone box to check inside only to find it empty and you dropped your head. “Damn it.”

This was even worse than how you had already thought your night was going to go. You checked your phone. You were definitely late now. Not only late, you were trapped in an elevator with no way of alerting someone that you were even there at all. Maybe Fen was right. Maybe you should have spent more money to move to a newer apartment building. You loved your little block though. Your apartment may have been old, but it was cute and had character. It was quiet on the weekends and it made the commute to work so much shorter than where you used to live. A cute apartment wasn’t helping you then though.

You heard a small sigh come from behind you and you turned around to see the man sitting on the floor. You didn’t think you were giving him any sort of look, but he stared at you for a second and then jumped up.

“My apologies.” He stuck his hand forward towards you. “My name is Erwin.”

“Y/N.” You took his hand which was surprisingly soft and gentle for someone his size.

“Y/N.” Erwin repeated. “Well we might as well get comfortable. I imagine someone will figure out the elevator stopped running soon enough.”

He sat back down on the floor, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing one foot over the other. He set his hand down on the area next to him and looked up at you.

“Would you like to join me?” He smiled and there was no way you were saying no to that.

One hour passed by remarkably fast. The two of you sat on the elevator floor and chatted about your jobs and where you grew up. At some point, both of your stomachs were growling and you opened up your big purse, pulling out some water and snacks. Erwin’s thick eyebrows lifted as you continued pulling out exactly what was needed.

“I like to come prepared.” You smiled shyly, hoping he wasn’t judging you.

“What else do you have in that magical bag of yours?” He scooted closer and you pulled out a bouncy ball, an old bus pass, your work keycard and a folded piece of paper. Erwin took the ball and the paper, opening it up and reading.

“Thirty-six questions to fall in love.” He held it up. “This is something you need to have with you at all times?”

“My friend gave me that.” You both laughed and you tried to grab it, but he pulled it away quickly.

“A friend, huh?” His eyes scanned over the first couple questions then looked at you. “I might be interested in asking you some of these questions.”

“Me?” Your eyes went wide. Why would he want to ask you any of those questions? You had to admit, you hadn’t actually read any of them when Fen gave you the paper, but if it’s about falling in love, you were sure the questions were about marriage and children. Why would Erwin want to ask any of those?

“I am a bit short on other participants.” He gestured around to the empty elevator. “Even so. You seem like you have a lot going on in your head.”

You looked up at him. This night was already a bust, stuck in an elevator with a stranger, albeit an incredibly handsome stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Why not reveal all of your insecurities, past boyfriends, career failures and whatever other strange questions that paper had.

You turned your body to face him, lifting your legs until you were sitting cross-legged and placed your hands on your knees.

“Fine.” You took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

The rules were simple. You each ask each other a question, alternating who asks and who answers until all the questions are asked an answered. It was important they are done in order because they get increasingly more personal. After all questions were answered, you and your partner are to stare into each other’s eyes for four minutes.

You couldn’t even say that was easier said than done because it really didn’t even seem all that easy just saying it. Four minutes? You’ve never looked into anyone’s eyes for longer than a couple seconds. This doesn’t even touch on the fact that these questions were going to get more personal as you moved. The only thing that made this even remotely worth it was knowing every question you had to answer, Erwin had to answer the same one and you would be lying if that wasn’t exciting you.

…..

“Number three. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?” Erwin set the list down in between you as you thought about the question. It didn’t really require that much thought honestly. You were a highly anxious person.

“Yes.” You nodded once and smiled. Erwin waited for you to keep going, but you just stared at him and then remembered. “Oh right! I ask the next one.”

You picked up the paper and Erwin took it from you, holding it above him and laughing at you as you let confusion spread across your face.

“It’s expected you also answer why.” He explained. “The idea is to get to know each other.”

“Yes, but I thought the reasoning was obvious.” You pointed out.

“Not to me.” He lowered his hand, setting the paper down as he watched you fiddle with your fingers.

“I find it almost necessary to practice it. Otherwise I’ll stumble over my words and get confused.” You admitted, shifting uncomfortably. You looked up and smiled, trying to pretend you weren’t as uneasy as you looked. “I bet you don’t have to do that.”

“I think we each have our own insecurities.” His smile was so understanding it had you biting your lip and looking down quickly, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I appreciate you sharing your answer.”

…..

“Number eight.” You paused as you read the question to yourself, a small gust of worry running through you. This definitely meant he was going to look at you. “Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.”

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes down on the paper, trying your best not show how uncomfortable it was going to be to have him staring at you. You could already feel his gaze. Was he looking at the dirt on your legs and skirt? Was he critiquing how messy your hair was or how your shirt didn’t match the rest of what you were wearing? Maybe he was judging your feet and your choice of socks. You looked down, making sure you did, in fact, shave your legs.

You couldn’t handle it anymore. You let your eyes slowly look up at him, meeting his stare. He was sitting cross-legged, his chin resting on his fist which was propped up on his knee, the smile on his face had a flush of warmth rushing to your cheeks and swirling in your chest.

“To start, I think we both care quite a bit about how we’re perceived by others.” He leaned back on his arms, straightening his legs out, his left leg brushing against yours and you shivered at the warmth. “We have a similar sense of fashion. I also have that same coat.”

He pointed to your jacket laying on the floor and you looked over at it, taking the moment to look away from him and gather yourself. He was quiet and you wondered if maybe he didn’t realize that was only two things in common. You turned to look at him.

“You’re supposed to name three.” You reminded him, looking at him with your eyebrows together. He smiled.

“I would stake a guess that we’re both big rule followers.”

…..

“Alright. Number thirteen. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?” He set the paper down in front of you, going back to resting his chin on his fist, a position you were beginning to realize was his go-to.

“Hmm…” You thought about it. There was no way you would ever want to know your future. You did that once at a carnival and you had anxiety for the next year over it. “I guess I would want to know the truth about myself.”

“What about yourself?”

“I think I would ask if I was a good person.” You nodded slowly. “Yeah, I would want to know if I am a good person.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A good person.” He laughed.

“That’s what I would ask. I don’t know.”

“Well what is a good person?” He sat up straight. “To you. Your definition.”

“To me?” You were fiddling with your fingers again, a nervous habit that you often did when you were feeling eyes on you. “I guess someone who tries their best to be helpful and kind to everyone equally.”

“I think that’s a fair definition.” He nodded and you picked up the paper. “Do you do those things?”

“The things I listed?” You knew what he was getting at. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“So you have a definition of what a good person is and you’re already doing those things. Why do you need to ask a crystal ball if you’re a good person?”

“For confirmation?” You honestly had no idea. Why did you want to ask that? Erwin had a point. “I guess I don’t feelgood enough?”

“But if a crystal ball told you it was enough, you would believe it?” It all sounded so good in your head, but when you put it out there and he repeated it, it sounded like something a child would say.

“I guess it sounds kind of dumb when it’s said like that.” You laughed uncomfortably.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” He put his hand on yours and you shivered at the warmth and looked up. His eyes looked so concerned.

“No, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad for saying it. I just realized it sounded bad out loud.” You both laughed at your apologies. Erwin rested his chin back on his fist.

“I was just trying to say that if something as simple as a crystal ball was enough for you to believe you were a good person, would you believe me if I told you?”

“This is only number thirteen.” You smiled. “Are you sure you know me well enough?”

…..

“Fifteen. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?” You put the paper down in between you both, the space that was beginning to grow smaller as you each moved closer together.

You were both getting increasingly more comfortable with each other as the questions got deeper and more personal. You had removed your shoes, scooting closer to Erwin while he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, moving closer to you.

Erwin looked up, thinking about the question. You’ve been enjoying the questions more as they went on, making Erwin think a bit more each time before answering. It gave you time to admire his face, his perfect bone structure, his incredible blue eyes, and the way he liked to tap his finger on his lip when he thought about things.

“I want to say deciding my career path.” He looked at you and it made you smile. “I thought I would… I was expected tofollow in my father’s footsteps and become a teacher, but I chose my own path. I’m happy with that.”

“What do you like about your current job?” You asked him.

“I like my job because it gives me the freedom to continue things I have interest in, like teaching kids about finance.”

“Wait.” You held your hand up. “You are proud of not following your father and being a teacher so that you could get a job in finance just so you could teach kids finance?”

“It certainly sounds silly when you say it like that.” You both laughed.

…..

“Twenty-nine. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.” You put your hand out and Erwin took an M&M from it, tossing it in the air and you caught it in your mouth, the only way you were allowed to eat them then, a rule you made around question twenty.

“Okay, I have it.” Erwin chewed his M&M you tossed him and continued. “When I was interviewing for my current position, I had never been to the building before that so I wasn’t familiar with it. The whole building is, in essence, a big glass box. It’s all windows, even the doors just look like large windows, but not the tinted ones. These are the completely clean and nearly invisible windows. As I made my way up the steps, I thought it was an open floorplan without any doors, so I just walked forward and stepped straight into the glass.”

You threw your head back with laughter and quickly tried to cover your mouth so he wouldn’t feel bad, snorting into your palm. Erwin smiled at you, his hand brushing over your waist before dropping to the ground.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized. “That’s a very understandable mistake. Honestly. It’s not so bad.”

“Yes, well.” He continued, a small smile on his face. “I also did it on my way out the building after the interview.”

You were roaring with laughter now. You tried your best to cover your mouth, but even your eyes were watering. You put your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, but dropped your face there until you could calm yourself down enough.

“I’m sorry. Really. I shouldn’t be laughing at you for that.”

“It’s quite alright.” He bit his bottom lip before quickly smiling. “It’s worth it to see you smile.”

…..

“Question thirty-one. Tell your partner something that you like about them already.” Erwin set the paper down. It was quite amazing actually. You had only been in the elevator for a couple hours. You’ve only known Erwin for a couple hours. Looking at the way he set the paper down, how he was holding his face, barely looking away from you, slowly sitting back against the wall, his hands rubbing over his thighs to wipe the nervous sweat from his palms, he was uneasy. You could see it. Even knowing him for such a short time, you could already tell what he looked like when he was nervous. Thinking about it made the corner of your mouth turn up in a small smile.

You had a feeling he would expect the obvious things. He was a gentleman, he was honest, he was kind, he spoke well. You wanted to give him something to make his eyes shoot up to meet yours and to make a small smile grow on his face.

“I like that you helped take this really terrible situation on an already crappy Friday night and made me have the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” His eyes shot up to look at you, a small smile growing on his face. Bingo.

…..

You laughed, blowing air from your mouth as you tried to hold it in, giving up and throwing your head back with a loud laugh. Erwin was smiling at you, his cheeks coloring pink as he absentmindedly slid his hands over your waist.

It was too embarrassing, too cringy, too intimate for someone you just met and you were sure even if you knew each other well, it would be just as awkward. You managed to calm yourself down enough, still letting out puffs of air and giggling every time the discomfort crossed your mind.

“Let’s try again.” Erwin spoke softly, shaking your hips a little as he smiled.

“It wasn’t embarrassing enough that you want to do it again?” Your eyes went wide.

“I just shared thirty-six highly personal pieces of information about myself. What’s four minutes of looking into eyes as beautiful as yours?”

Your jaw dropped open, bottom lip moving up and down as you searched for something to say. He was flirting, that was definitely flirting. The idea of a man like this flirting with you left you a bit speechless. You finally just sank back, smiling shyly as you looked at your hands.

“We don’t have to.” He leaned his head to the side to look at your face. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay.” You looked up at him. The idea of a man like him flirting with you might be unbelievable, but this whole situation was a bit unbelievable and while you were living in a dream, you might as well really live in it. “Let’s try again.”

He smiled and it melted your insides. You weren’t a confident person naturally. There were a handful of things you could confidently say you didn’t overthink, but the majority of the time, you were always second guessing everything you did, every decision you made. So when you decided to sit yourself on his legs in front of him, hands resting on either side of his thighs, you were just as surprised as he was, his blue eyes peering into yours as his eyebrows dropped and he let out an exhale.

“Start the timer,” you instructed. He didn’t even look down at his phone as he started the four-minute timer from zero. He dropped a quick glance down to your lips and brought his eyes back to yours, a small smile played on his lips.

You weren’t brazen enough to sit on his thighs, your butt rested comfortable on his shins and your upper body leaned forward towards him, but the new shift in position gave you a confidence you didn’t have a moment before.

His phone let out one small beep and you smiled. One minute had passed. You held his gaze, noticing him licking his lips, his tongue fliting out and the tiniest lip bite before he rested his lips in a smile. You shifted in your spot and his hands inched their way to yours. His first finger getting there first, wrapping itself around your pinky and you smiled, encouragement to have the rest of his hand follow.

A second beep from his phone and he rubbed his hand gently up and back down your forearm. You sat yourself a bit closer, lifting yourself off his legs and slowly scooting forward until your butt rested on the cushy muscles of his thighs. His hands connected with yours until they slipped free and rested on your waist, sliding back and roughly grabbing the extra meat of your hips. He blinked slowly, licking his lips and you felt like your heart would beat out of your chest. He raised his knees, sliding your body down his thighs and pushing you up against his chest, your faces barely an inch apart.

You couldn’t help but smile at him and he brushed your hair from your face, his hand cupping your jaw while his other hand brought your body even closer to him. His eyes moved to your lips, looking away from your eyes for the first time since the four minutes started.

You rested your palms on his chest, feeling just how firm, yet soft it was before letting yourself lean in to press your lips tenderly to his. It was like electricity shooting through your body at the contact and your hands quickly moved to the back of his head, pulling him in. He must have felt the same way because his hands slid up your back to keep you in his lap and resting against him.

You moved your lips slightly against his and he opened his mouth, teasing your lips with his tongue until you opened your mouth. He didn’t push his way in, his tongue waited for yours to meet him halfway before he started exploring the cavern of your mouth. You panted against his mouth. You were amazed that he still tasted like minty toothpaste, even after all the snacks you both ate and you wondered if your breath had any remnants of anything fresh, but the pull of his hands to bring you closer had you thinking it couldn’t be that bad.

His hand slid lower down your back, the touch giving you chills. He timidly ran over your hips, and moved back up, settling on your waist. You slid towards him a bit, your hips barely lifting up before resting back in his lap and he groaned, a deep rumble that echoed off the walls of the elevator and vibrated through to your own chest.

You smiled. Your lips pulling away from his, but your hands remained in his hair, brushing through the blond locks now entirely out of place. He sighed, looking at where his hands were resting on your hips. He moved one of those hands to your cheek and leaned back in to kiss you as the four-minute alarm on his phone sounded and you both jumped, laughing quietly.

He turned back to you and continued leaning in, his hand moving to behind your head as his lips reached yours.

“Hey! Is there someone in there?” Someone called from outside the elevator. Your eyes widened and you stood up.

“Hello? Yes! We’re stuck!” You called through the doors, hoping your voice was loud enough. You turned back to Erwin, grinning with excitement and he stood up, fixing his shirt sleeves and moving behind you.

“Alright! We got a guy who can open up these doors.” The man called from outside.

You stepped back, directly into Erwin’s arms and he held your shoulders. The contact with him made you turn around to look at him. He had his suit jacket back on and you remembered your shoes. The man that was outside started prying open the doors and you grabbed your shoes, sliding them on and picking up the things from your purse that were scattered along the ground.

In the corner of the elevator was the small plastic capsule of your pantyhose and for a moment, you froze. In the time you were stuck in there with Erwin, for a short amount of time you had completely forgotten about your blind date. The man probably waited for hours only to hear nothing back from you. Guilt was starting to settle in. Even if you didn’t want to go on the date in the first place, you weren’t the kind of person to just leave someone hanging like that. And the whole time you were in here enjoying yourself with Erwin. Well, you may have been trapped, but knowing you were having fun with someone else made your stomach fill with shame.

You stood up, having collected all your things and faced the elevator doors. Your mood shifting entirely from only moments before. Erwin had grabbed his things and put his shoes back on. You could see light coming from the slowly growing crack in the elevator doors and you squinted a bit as your eyes adjusted. Erwin moved closer to you, his arm pressing against yours as he leaned in.

“Y/N, I…” You looked up to him.

“Alright, that’s it. You guys can come through.” The man told. Erwin pressed his lips together in a smile.

“After you.” He gestured. You stepped through the elevator doors onto the landing of the sixth floor.

You only had a couple floors to walk up and while you could have done it alone, it was nice walking with him. That is, until the realization hit that you were only going to be walking with him for a couple short flights of stairs, after which, you will say your good-byes and most likely never see each other again.

There really wasn’t any way this man wanted to see you more than the forced three hours he just had to endure. You sighed to yourself. That thought coupled with the mixture of guilt for your blind date was enough for this Friday night. When you made it to your floor, you opened the stairwell door, made sure to hold it for him and quickly hurried to your apartment and unlocked the door.

You rushed inside, closing the door behind you and resting your head against the door. That was fun, but there was no way it was going further. Your date may have been cancelled at this point, but Erwin still had time for whatever rendezvous he had planned. Just the thought of you kissing him without knowing anything about who he was coming to see was making you cringe.

Beyond that, there was the notion that your kiss would lead to something and that was embarrassing enough. You didn’t need to stick around after that. To think that anything else would come of it was a lot of pressure and expectations on him just to fulfill your little girl fantasy. You both got caught up in the moment and that was it. There was nothing else to it. You took a deep breath and set your bag on the floor.

Walking to your dining room table, you pulled out your phone to call your friend. You may not have wanted to go on that blind date at all, but forcing the poor schmuck to wait hours for you without even a text was unfair.

As you unlocked the screen, you saw twelve unread messages from Fen and quickly looked through them.

[6:30pm I just spoke with him. He’s on his way to your place now.]

[6:38pm I guess I forgot to mention how punctual he is.]

[6:38pm A lot better than me, right? XD]

[6:45pm What are you going to wear?]

[6:50pm You’re so lucky you have a friend like me to set you up on dates for a Friday night.]

[6:51pm He just texted me. He’s at your place]

[6:51pm Why aren’t you answering your bell??]

[6:52pm You’re not standing him up, right? Please, he’s so cute!]

[6:54pm Someone let him in. I told him your apartment number. You better let him in!]

[7:15pm I haven’t heard from him so you must be out. Why aren’t you texting me??]

[7:16pm I guess that must mean you’re having a great time!]

[7:24pm I just ate a whole pack of Oreos.]

Your heart was racing. Someone let him in? You checked the time of the message. Someone let him in around the time you were letting Erwin into the lobby. Your jaw dropped, your mind hurrying through your thoughts.

You didn’t have time to think about it because your doorbell rang and your head shot up from your phone as your heart nearly leapt from your chest. Hesitantly, you set your phone down on the table, letting your mind believe what you were hoping was true. Before you could overthink it, you walked to the door, unlocking it and turning the knob, taking a deep breath before pulling the door open.

Erwin stood there, his jacket back on, shirt straightened and hair back in place.

“I—uh… it looks like I’m your date for tonight.” He smiled nervously at you, his phone in his hands with Fen’s name on the screen. “If you’re still interested, I would very much like to accompany you to dinner.”

You were still interested. You were more than still interested. What were the chances that the man you enjoyed so much time with stuck in an elevator was the date you were supposed to meet all along? You made a mental note to thank Fen because, for once, she was spot on with this match. You smiled broadly and pretended to think about it, playfully tapping your finger to your lips in the same way he did when he thought.

“How do you feel about having dinner at my place?” You stepped back a bit, opening the door wider.

“I think I’d like that very much.” He stepped inside and you closed the door.

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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 2 years ago

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Day 5: Cutting Corners

Agnes/Estinien. Modern AU. Day 5 of FFXIV Write: cutting corners. Estinien and Agi go shopping as their home renovation begins. Mostly SFW.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Estinien groaned, rubbing his temples. He and his wife were walking through the busy streets of Limsa Lominsa to a shop to pick out fabrics for their home renovation. Agnes was the picture of delight, while Estinien would rather have eighty spoons shoved up my ass.

Agnes giggled. “Cutting Corners is, in fact, the name of the interior fabric store, love. I know it’s not the usual place that Floriant gets his things at in Ishgard, but I’ve been here loads of times and love the selection. After all,” she squeezed his hand with a smile. “Our home is going to be a mixture of our two styles. Who knows—maybe you’ll find some things to your taste!”

Or maybe we can skip this and let Floriant bring us things that are appropriate! Estinien grunted as he opened the door to the shop and was surprised when they entered. It wasn’t like rainbows barfed in here. He thought there would only be massive bolts of fabric, not area rugs, hardware for curtains and drapery, and a selection of custom furniture.

“See! I told you it wasn’t bad.” Agnes grinned, dragging him to a custom couch. She plopped down and leaned her head back. “It’s very comfy, and the best part is that we can have it in any fabric we want!”

No. No. No. I have a couch. I love my couch. It’s a comfy couch too! And it doesn’t clash with anything! Beige doesn’t clash! Heaving a large sigh, Estinien felt a headache quickly approaching. “It’s very nice, but we’re not here for a couch. We’re here to look at fabrics. Maybe even some upholstery to redo those old dining room chairs…AGI!”

Agnes walked quickly to the selection of upholstery and excitedly showed Estinien several different samples she liked. They’re all…fucking so colorful. Why? Gray and beige and white and black are fine colors!!! “Look at this one! It’s called Carnival!”

“I, erm…” I want to burn the fucking carnival.

“Or this one? It’s little patterns in slate.”

“Um…” It looks like little dicks!

“Ooooooh, this is a good one! A nice, solid color—ORANGE!”

Estinien’s mouth opened and closed a few times. Orange belongs as a juice not a chair color!

“Love, look at this! It’s blue! You love blue!”

I love you. I love blue. I don’t love this blue that looks like someone spilled paint all over the fabric. “Perhaps we should see some rugs…AGI! AGI, WAIT!”

Agnes pointed at the rug below her feet. “Look! It’s got blue flowers!”

Estinien sighed and glanced at the tag in the corner. His eyes widened. Seven hundred gil?! For a rug with flowers! Absolutely not. “Are there any that aren’t as expensive?” Do area rugs cost this much? Surely not?!?!

His wife thought for a moment. “Some are less expensive, yes. One second, sexy…” She looked around and then squealed. “THIS ONE!” She took his hand and dragged him to a multicolored rug with various shapes. “Isn’t it lovely? Maybe we could have this as an area rug in our bedroom?”

Or maybe I could set it on fire in Aymeric’s garden? “I…if…if we choose this, then the paint color will have to change, no?” Agi insisted on our bedroom being a “soft lavender” or some shit. That’s enough color in our room.

Her face fell, making him feel like shit. Fuck. “O-oh, right. Um, there’s a few that are cream colored and plain. That could work too.” Fuck. Make her smile again, idiot! She was so excited, and now you’ve ruined it.

Estinien quickly looked at a few of the other area rugs and then snapped his fingers. “Look at this one, sweetheart. It’s gray, but there’s a pattern. Herr…fuck…what’s that called?”

“Herringbone, love.” She giggled, once again taking his hand in hers.

My wife is so smart. I love her so much. Anything to make her happy. Anything to make her laugh. “Aye, herringbone. It’s subtle but still a bit of pizazz.”

Agnes snorted. “I wouldn’t say herringbone has pizazz on its own. Maybe if it has sparkles!” NO. She leaned up to kiss his unshaven cheek. “Oh love, your tastes are a lot simpler than mine.” You love color and light. Bright happy things because you are bright and happy. My wife. My pretty wife who fills my life with love and happiness. “’Stinien, look!” She pointed excitedly to a wall displaying clocks for sale. “We can buy one for the kitchen!” Tugging on his hand, she led them to the clocks.

“I suppose we could, yes…”

“THAT ONE!” She stood next to a large clock on the wall and did an elaborate show off pose.

Estinien barked a laugh. “It’s a nice clock, my love. More than actually…” It’s very industrial. Metal. Old-fashioned. That would be an excellent edition to the kitchen. Having stepped closer and pinching my pretty wife’s ass, Estinien nodded and grinned. “I think we should get it.”

Agnes’s face lit up like a million Starlight sentinels. “Really?! You like it? You really like it?”

He wrapped an arm around her broad shoulders. “Aye. It’s perfect. Let’s see the price tag…” Oh. Fucking hells. Eight hundred gil for a clock?! “I suppose we can—”

“We don’t have to get it if you don’t—”

“Splurge.” Estinien winked and kissed her cheek. “It’s worth it.”

Agnes sighed happily. “You’re worth it, love. Every second of every day.” I have the best wife in the world. “Even though you want everything to be beige or gray.” She stuck her tongue out at him, which caused him to tickle her sides.

“You naughty little sausage roll. I’ll get you, my pretty…” As she laughed, his heart swelled. And my cock. Can’t forget that!

“Ahem.” A sales associate fake coughed, staring at the couple. Agnes, blushing furiously, nearly tripped over herself as she stepped away from Estinien. “May I help you?”

“Erm yeah, we’ll take the clock.”

To Estinien’s chagrin, they bought the clock, herringbone area rug, and a custom chair and ottoman for Agnes. She wants her own comfy chair for our bedroom, so she can sit and read or sew or be adorable. Just don’t think about the cost…

#estinien wyrmblood #estinien x wol #estinien varlineau #agnes currai #agnes varlineau #modern au #ffxiv write 2022 #ffxiv write #day 5 cutting corners #our fav couple goes shopping #agi and estinien have VERY different tastes #this reno is gonna be a thing lol

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apocalypseornaw · 4 years ago

Text

Real Feelings

For the square *fake dating* on @girl-next-door-writes bingo

You pulled up to the newest construction site and parked next to Bobby’s truck. Him and Dean would be around here somewhere Ellen had tasked you with delivering the crew’s lunch order from the diner. You stepped out the truck then leaned back in to grab the box that held the food. When you heard someone call your name you nearly dropped the box. It was Micheal, your ex boyfriend who you’d been engaged to for a short time until he’d broken it off because in his words “This will never work out and it’ll cause less heartbreak now” you hadn��t seen him in a few years.

You plastered a smile on your face as he moved to help you grab the box “Hi Michea! How have you been, what are you doing here?” he motioned around the lot “I’m here to meet with Dean and Bobby.They found a way to work around a design flaw I didn’t think about. What are you doing here?” you motioned to the box in your hand “Ellen, Bobby’s wife asked me to bring lunch”

He smiled and waved a hand towards the trailers that held the temp offices “Then we’re headed in the same way. How’ve you been?” you nodded “Can’t complain, you?” he ran a hand across the back of his neck and you knew that as a tell he was nervous about something so when he started the next sentence with “Well actually I was going to call you” your stomach knotted. Why was he calling you? “Because?” you questioned so he grinned “I’m getting married. It’s a whole thing that’ll be up in the mountains. Charity, you remember Charity don’t you?” you nodded because yes you did in fact remember Charity. She was the greek goddess Micheal had met a few months after your split. She was gorgeous and sweet enough to meet sugar in her mouth. “Well she wanted to know if you’d like to come. Now it’ll not just be the wedding. My father is having a grand opening of the resort we’re using as well so there’ll be plenty of activities to do. You always did love the snow”

You walked up the steps next to him and knew your emotions were plainly written across your face because the next thing he added rather quickly was “And of course, if you’re seeing someone he can come along as well” you wracked your brain thinking of anyone you could use to keep from looking like you hadn’t gone this long without a lasting relationship considering he was getting married for real this time. “I’ll have to talk with him” you replied and could see his eyebrows go up slightly “Anyone I know?” you stepped into the door and as you did blurted out the only name that popped into your head “I’m actually seeing Dean” Micheal stopped in his tracks “Winchester?” you breathed a sigh of relief to see Dean wasn’t in the office yet then nodded “Yeah about a year now” “Can’t say I’m surprised” he muttered and you were about to ask why when the door opened to Dean walking in.

“Hey baby!” you called moving to hug him then whispered in his ear “For the love of god go along with it. I’ll owe you” he gave you a look but pressed a quick kiss to your cheek “Hey to you too sweetheart” then nodded to Micheal “Hey man” you knew Dean was probably wondering what was really going on considering he was watching you as you laid his and Bobby’s food down then walked out to take the other food to the crew. Bobby had joined him and Micheal by then so Dean excused him by saying “Bobby I’m gonna walk Y/N. Make sure she’s wearing her hardhat this time” Bobby nodded then turned his attention back to the plans he was showing Micheal.

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Once you and Dean were outside he cut his eyes at you and took one of the boxes out of your hand “So darling, when did we start seeing each other?” you grimaced then explained “I’m so sorry but he caught me by surprise. I didn’t know this was one of his dad’s builds then he’s talking about the fact that him and Charity are getting married and he’s inviting me and my boyfriend and honestly? With the exception of Bobby and Sam I don’t really hang out with that many guys besides you” you quickly explained the weekend Micheal and Charity had planned heading up to their big day.

He was silent for a few moments then shrugged “Is it paid?” “What?” you asked in confusion so he clarified “Is it paid? Like we show up and enjoy this brand spanking new resort in the mountains, get our food cooked for us. Our rooms cleaned for us and all we have to do in return is sit through your douchey ex getting married?” You nodded slowly and he smirked “I say let’s do it. I think it’d be fun and besides when’s the last time either of us had a vacation, let alone one we didn’t have to foot out an armload for?”

You opened your mouth then shut it just as quickly “Well I gotta go after I get this food to the crew but if you’re sure, tell him yes” he winked at you then took the other box from your hands “Go on and get back to Ellen because I fully expect my girl to have some new outfits before we show up to this destination wedding” you rolled your eyes at him then playfully swatted his ass “I’ll see what I can managed sugar”

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The closer the weekend of the wedding got the more you wanted to back out. You and Micheal still had a lot of mutual friends and those mutual friends also knew Dean, Sam, Bobby and the entire bunch. There was bound to either be awkwardness or the horror of Micheal finding out you lied. Any time you bought the worry up to Dean he’d wave it off with the logic of “We know damn near everything about each other sweetheart. Hell you crashed at my place after you two split until we got you into your loft. We’re comfortable with casual touch. He’ll never know”

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Before you knew it the wedding weekend had sprung up on you. You were curled up in the passenger seat of Dean’s truck as he drove following the directions Micheal and Charity had included in with every invitation. Normally he’d drive his impala but considering this was a trip into the mountains you both decided it would be better to take the truck.

“So do you know about our room situation?” he asked, breaking the silence in the cab of the truck. You shrugged “Charity got a headcount and they blocked off that many rooms. Considering they think we’re a couple you’re fine sharing with me aren’t you?” “Of course, sweetheart. Even if you do snore” he teased with a wink. You shook your head and reached up to turn the radio up slightly and smiled when he started to sing along with the song “Bad moon rising”

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“Wake up Y/N. We’re here” Dean called shaking your leg closest to him. You sat up and nearly told him to turn the truck around. Yes the resort was gorgeous but the reality of going to your ex-fiance’s wedding was starting to set in. Dean reached across the console and grabbed your hand “Hey fake boyfriend or not I’m really here to back you up. I won’t leave your side all weekend unless you tell me to ok?” you managed a smile then questioned “What if you see a hot bridesmaid?” he shrugged “I’ll get their number for later” “DEAN!” you scolded causing him to crack up laughing “See? Changed your mood that quick” You rolled your eyes but grabbed your bag and followed him once he was parked.

The interior of the resort had a nice almost rustic feel to it. A large fireplace was roaring in the center of the lobby and you grabbed Dean’s arm to pull him along with you to check it out. “You’re already smiling. It won’t be that bad” you turned to tell him that five minutes in versus an entire weekend was too different things but stopped when you heard an accented voice call both of your names. You looked up to see Benny and his sister Elizabeth walking towards you. “Benny” you greeted with a smile as the two of you hugged. Once you pulled away from him you greeted Elizabeth in much the same fashion.

“So Dean, brother I hear you finally managed to wrangle this one” Benny asked with a smirk. Your eyes widened at his wording..what did he mean by finally? You chose not to ask considering you’d told Micheal the two of you had been together for nearly a year. Dean, ever the fast talker, simply slid an arm around your waist and winked at Benny “Things worth having take time don’t they?” you could feel a blush threatening to warm your cheeks and shot Elizabeth a grateful smile when she said “Leave her be boys. Y/N we need to catch up but for now I’ll drag my brother away so the two of you can get checked in and squared away”

After the two of them had walked off you looked at Dean who still had his arm around you holding you close to his side “What did Benny mean?” he shrugged “Who knows with Benny?” then moved to grab your bags then nodded towards the front desk “Let’s get checked in”

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Your room was on the third floor so you took the nearest elevator up and thankfully it was empty. You leaned your head back against the wall then rolled it over to look at Dean silently cursing yourself for ever putting the two of you in this situation. You weren’t exactly ugly but damn the man looked like a walking wet dream when he was doing the most mundane tasks and you knew for a fact the suit he had brought for the ceremony was a Tom Ford black herringbone three piece. You’d seen him in it twice before and every woman and a good amount of the men in the nearest vicinity looked like they’d throw themselves under a bus to have a chance to see him without it and now here you were having to play it off like you had. “You’re thinking loud enough to give me a migraine” he spoke pushing off the wall when the elevator came to a stop. You shrugged “Just thinking how many more people are we gonna know that’s here, meaning how many are gonna ask about us being together after this weekend” “Let’s enjoy this weekend then we’ll worry about the rest” he replied with a wink motioning for you to step off first when the doors opened.

You checked the room numbers until you got to yours. You slid the key card in then stepped inside opening the door further for Dean since he’d insisted to carry your bags too because in his words “Yes you are more than capable but dammit I am a loving fake boyfriend” You were in the living room area of the suit and it was nice, had a small couch against one wall with two overstuffed chairs sitting across the room next to a fireplace and a large tv on one wall. Dean let out a low whistle and sat your bags down in front of the couch “So far, so good. Want to check out the bedroom?” you ignored the warmth in your face to follow him to the bedroom door and cursed under your breath when you saw the kingsize bed. “I’ll um take the couch” you offered but he raised an eyebrow “We’re adults Y/N. I think we can share a bed. Besides this thing is big enough we won’t even be near each other unless we want to” he added a smirk at the end and you rolled your eyes feeling some of your nerves start to melt away at the simple fact of Dean being Dean.

“Fine but you snore and I’ll put a pillow over your face” he nodded “Fair enough” then grabbed your hand “Get a thicker jacket on. We’re gonna go check out the grounds” you didn’t have time to argue before he was pulling your jacket out of one of your bags and slipping it onto your arms.

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The two of you spent a few hours simply walking the different paths around the resort. Dean was always big on the outdoors and you loved the snow so it was something that you both found joy in. You ended up taking several photos of wildlife including a squirrel that took a liking to Dean.

When the sun started to shift in the sky you tried and failed to hide a shiver from Dean. He was immediately pulling his gloves off and holding them out to you. “I think that’s our clue to head back” you slid the gloves on then nodded “Yeah”

You walked along next to him and was a bit surprised when he reached out to lace his fingers in with yours. You glanced down at your intertwined hands and he shrugged “That way we keep both of our hands halfway defrosted” you bit your lip to try to hide the smile you had at the action. What the hell were you doing to yourself? You had simply tried to duck out of an awkward conversation with an ex and were now risking one of the closest friendships you had.

Your attention was drawn by Elizabeth’s voice. You looked up about the time the brunette nearly barreled into you “Liz! Calm down honey. What is it?” you questioned. She cut her eyes at Dean then smiled sweetly “Stand right there Dean. I won’t keep her long” Dean had a curious look but nodded nonetheless.

You let her pull you a couple feet from Dean before asking “What is going on?” “Lisa is here” you felt your heart hit your feet at that. Lisa was Dean’s ex and the closest he’d ever gotten to marriage. She’d played him dirty though by using her son Ben as a bargaining chip. Once Ben got old enough to go off to school she’d lost that chip but you knew Dean’s feelings for her had in fact been very real. “Oh” you said softly which caused Elizabeth to shake your arms roughly “Oh? Oh as in you aren’t worried or oh as in I should start a fight with her sister just to give you an excuse to knock her out?” You let out a surprised laugh at her offer then said “Oh as in I’m not worried” you looked over your shoulder at Dean who waved when he saw he had your attention then added softly “Not very worried anyways”

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Elizabeth went in search of Benny so you and Dean headed back inside. He was asking if you wanted to hit the dining area or just get room service. You wanted to go ahead and tell him Lisa was here but if everything was going to implode you might as well enjoy a little before it did right? “I’m thinking room service and maybe some horror movies?” you suggested as the two of you walked towards the elevators. He pulled you into his side and left a kiss on your temple “That’s my girl!”

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You left ordering the food up to Dean while you took a shower and you started to wonder if you should regret that decision when you walked into the living room. He had a fire going and there were plates on nearly every surface. “Are we barricading ourselves in here? Did the apocalypse start while I was in the shower and if so can I claim Daryl?” He looked up from scrolling through the movie options to laugh humorlessly “First off I’m like so much better looking than him and I just decided that we’d try a little bit of everything in case the rest of the weekend gets to be too much and your stomach does that nervous thing where you can’t eat without getting queasy”

Damn he remembered that? Guess it shouldn’t surprise you but even Micheal had never paid too much mind to that. “Well in that case pick the first movie and let’s get this marathon started”

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Dean knew you’d never make it through the entire list of movies the two of you had picked. Halfway through the Texas chainsaw massacre you were curled up next to him with your head laid over on his shoulder. He missed times like this. After you and Micheal had first split and you stayed with him this was a weekly occurrence. The two of you would stay up most saturday nights, watching the cheesiest horror movies and eating the weirdest take out you could. You’d always fall asleep on him and he would always just get comfortable and sleep on the couch as well to have you close to him. His feelings for you had already been apparent by the time him and Lisa finally called it quits but you’d been with Micheal. After the breakup he hadn’t wanted to be seen as trying to take advantage so he was content with the best friend role. He’d date and see you date but would always hold his breath when you’d hit the couple weeks mark with whatever idiot you’d be currently seeing in hopes you’d kick the guy to the curb and you always did.

When this weekend had come up you’d expected him to laugh at the idea but he’d jumped at. Maybe if he had some alone time with you in a place as gorgeous as this he could finally put words to his feelings and maybe just maybe you felt the same.

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Waking up on the couch with Dean’s arms around you felt like a dream until you remembered just why the two of you were here and what Elizabeth had told you the night before. You turned to look up at him and smiled seeing his face so relaxed. His mouth was open just slightly and his hair was tousled from moving around in his sleep. You weren’t sure how long you’d been staring at him when a smirk slipped onto his face “Staring is a little creepy honey” you rolled your eyes and slowly started to sit up “I wasn’t staring I was simply making sure you weren’t drooling on me”

He opened one eye and smiled at you “Are you asking me to get bodily fluid on you?” “I swear to christ Dean!” you scolded but he started laughing and pulled you back down next to him “Shh go back to sleep. Breakfast runs for another two hours and there’s no wedding stuff until the snowmobile ride around one then the dinner at seven” You cut your eyes up at him and took a deep breath before saying “I need to tell you why Elizabeth found me last night”

He sat up slowly opening both eyes and yawned “I’m guessing not just to get help burying Benny in snow?” you shook your head “Um well you know a lot of our friend groups and Micheal’s are intertwined” he nodded so you finally bit the bullet “Lisa is here” “Oh” he stood up off the couch rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. There were too many emotions playing through his eyes to pick out just one so you took the opportunity to say “I’m gonna grab a shower. Charity asked for some of the female guests to come pick out corsages so none of us are left without flowers so I’m going to meet up with Liz to do that”

You quickly walked out the room before Dean could see the look in your eyes at his reaction upon hearing Lisa was at the resort. Well at least thursday had been fun. You simply had today and tomorrow to get through then sunday you could head home.

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By the time you got out the shower Dean was sitting on the foot of the bed with his toiletry bag next to him so he could shower next. He glanced up when you walked out and smiled “So are you and Liz gonna meet up with me and Benny for breakfast or are we left up to our own devices?” you shrugged and grabbed your thinner jacket since you planned to be indoors until the snowmobiling later. “Why don’t you two go without us and we’ll meet up later?” “You don’t think I’m gonna leave you high and dry just because Lisa is here..do you?” you opened your mouth to reply but someone was on your side because Elizabeth chose that moment to text your phone “I’m outside your room babe” you showed him the phone and he nodded “Find me after you pick flowers..please?” you smiled “Of course” then nearly ran out the room.

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You forced a smile onto your face as you followed Elizabeth into the room where Charity had the florists set up. You really did think it was a cute idea that she didn’t want any woman in attendance to be without flowers even though it was her big day.

You stopped the moment you stepped into the room and spotted Lisa talking to Charity’s sister Alice. “Well look what the cat dragged in” Elizabeth muttered under her breath and you bit your lip to hide the smile “Let’s just check in with Charity, pick our flowers and get the hell out of here” she nodded looping her arm in with yours. The two of you headed for the table lined with daisies,sunflowers and lilies. “What were you thinking?” she asked, picking up one of the flowers off the table. You shrugged “Something simple Liz, my dress is dark blue and Dean’s suit is black” “Is it the three piece Tom Ford number? He always did look amazing in that?” Lisa’s voice came from behind you and you felt your spine stiffen at her voice.

Elizabeth cut her eyes at you as you turned to face Lisa with a smile on your face “Matter of fact it is. Nice to see you again Lisa. How’s Ben?” her smile faltered slightly at your mention of him. “He’s doing fine, can I ask you one thing?” you nodded slowly “Even if I say no you’re gonna talk anyways so I might as well agree to it to keep things civil for Charity and Micheal’s sake”

You saw Elizabeth move out the corner of your eye coming to stand directly next to you and you then realized Lisa’s sister Tabitha had come to stand behind her. You weren’t doing this. You and Micheal had ended on a good note, Charity was a good person and you were going to have to be pushed really far to act stupid during their weekend. “Were you screwing him when I was with him or did you just wait until Micheal woke up about you?” “You know what Lisa..” Elizabeth started but was stopped by Alice stepping between you and Lisa “Braeden, Y/N is a guest here same as you are. If the two of you have issues with each other we have a big resort here take it outside or get over it”

You stared Lisa down as you told Alice “I have no problem. I’m here for Micheal and Charity. They invited me” Lisa plastered one of those smiles that could only be described as how Lucifer smiled at Eve in the garden “No issue from me either” Alice nodded and smiled at you “How have you been Y/N? Did you and Elizabeth find the flowers you wanted?” you shook your head still looking at Lisa over her shoulder. She gently touched your elbow and led you back to one of the tables. “Tell me what colors you and Dean are wearing and I’m sure we’ll find something that looks amazing. You too Elizabeth”

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After you and Elizabeth were through picking flowers she asked if you wanted to grab breakfast. “Just the two of us?” you offered and she shrugged “Up to you. We can find your honey and my brother if you want or we can just catch up?” you smiled “I like the idea of catching up. Dean and Benny are big boys. They can be left alone for a little while” she smiled in return and grabbed your arm “Well then come on ma’am”

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You were sipping on your coffee when Lisa walked by your table. She was still staring you down but you refused to do anything to mess up a friend’s wedding weekend. “You know I’m starting to think she’s more jealous of Dean having you then you having Dean” Elizabeth scoffed and you coughed around your coffee from the laugh that pulled from your lips. “I really need to get down to Louisiana more often. I forgot just how much fun you Lafittes’ are” She winked at you over her own coffee cup “Especially around Mardi Gras”

You were about to leave to go change for the snowmobile ride when a plate was set down on the side of yours and Elizabeth’s table. You cut your eyes up at the person who’d sat it down and it was Tabitha. “Lisa said since you enjoy her leftovers so much she figured you may want more” you took a deep breath then stood to face her eye to eye “Tell Lisa if she has an issue with me she needs to be woman enough to deal with it when it’s not conflicting with other plans. Now she want to hit me up next weekend? I’ll gladly whip her ass” you heard Elizabeth snicker under her breath and Tabitha looked scandalized “Are you even with him? I mean you’re not really his type”

Elizabeth was to her feet in a flash “You little..” but you stopped her with a hand then smiled at Tabitha “What? Not manipulative enough?” with that she seemed dumbfounded so you turned back to Elizabeth “Let’s go get changed”

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Elizabeth’s room was on the same floor as yours and Deans so the plan was to change then meet up at the elevator unless one of you ran into one of the guys first. You unlocked the door and stepped into your room breathing a sigh of relief to see Dean was in fact not there but your phone went off with a text from him “Dammit we have looked everywhere for you two. Where did you get off to?” you rolled your eyes and sent back “I’m lost come find me” before laying the phone down to dig out different clothes.

You were pulling your boots on when you heard the door of the room open then shut followed by Dean calling your name. “In here!” you hollered and he poked his head around the door holding his phone up “That has never been funny. Elizabeth told Benny where you were” “Snitch” you mumbled standing to grab your jacket. You could feel him watching you and cursed under your breath when he asked “What’s wrong?” you shrugged and tried to walk past him but he grabbed your arm “Come on darlin. I know that look something is up” you nodded “Yeah your ex is a fucking bitch and needs to be glad that we’re at a mutual friend’s wedding” “What did she do?” he asked dropping your arm like the mere touch had burnt “Everything from saying how good you’ve always looked in that one suit to asking me if I was screwing you when the two of you were together to sending her sister over to mine and Elizabeth’s table to give me her leftovers from breakfast followed up by reminding me I’m not your type” when you were met with silence you laughed humorlessly “I think I’ll get Benny to come grab my bags and just stay with Elizabeth the rest of the weekend. We can tell everyone we split and if need be I’ll pay their gas to swing through to take me home on their way” “You don’t have to do that” he offered but you’d already turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in your eyes “Yeah. I do because this was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had” you grabbed your jacket and pushed past him out the room.

You nearly mowed over poor Benny who reached out to steady you “Woah there. Where you headed like that?” you figured might as well bite half the bullet at least “We just broke up will you bring my bags to Liz’s room?” he seemed more than a little confused but nodded “Want me to smack some sense into him?” you shook your head with a watery smile “It was bound to happen. I’m not really his type” then walked away from him to find Elizabeth.

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You ended up dipping out of the snowmobile ride. You told Charity you were having a bit of motion sickness and bless her she’d gotten one of the staff to bring you some medicine.

You and Elizabeth had decided on one of the nature walks instead. “So what happened?” she asked and you shook your head “I told him what happened with Lisa. He didn’t respond” “I’m sorry honey” she replied pulling you into her side with one arm. You shrugged “Was bound to happen anyways”

When you finally pulled your phone out after the two of you had been wandering the trails for nearly two hours you had fifteen texts from Dean and even a few from Sam and Eileen wanting to know why their brother/brother in law was texting them to get them to text you to text him. Confusing huh?

“Maybe he’s sorry?” Elizabeth offered but you shook your head “I’m not holding him up. Who knows maybe Lisa is right. Maybe he does still want her” the words themselves felt like a hot knife twisting in your gut but you weren’t going to let it show. You could get through this and avoid Dean as much as possible until the sting went away.

------

At dinner you told Elizabeth you weren’t feeling well but talked her into going to dinner well after you made her promise to not blow up at Dean, Lisa or Tabitha. You left her with Benny in hopes he would see that she kept that promise then headed up to her room.

When you opened the door Benny had laid your suitcase and smaller bag on the couch. You called room service to get some food and to see if you could get an extra pillow and blanket so you didn’t have to steal one off her bed.

By the time Elizabeth got up to the room you had already eaten and showered and was curled up on the couch watching a movie. She smiled at you the moment she walked in the door “He’s clearly upset” you sighed and patted the cushion next to you “You’re welcome to come watch Liz but I don’t wanna talk about Dean” she nodded “Fair enough” and kicked off her shoes to come join you.

------

“I fucked up man” Dean told Benny with a shake of his head. “You think? Man you’ve been telling me for how long how you feel about that girl then you what? Can’t even manage to say fuck her about your ex?” Dean shrugged because he honestly had no idea why he hadn’t said anything about it when you told him of the confrontations with Lisa. “How do I fix it?” he asked and Benny laughed “Beg? Then beg some more?” “You know what Benny? You’re such a help”

Lisa and Tabitha walked into the bar about that time and Benny bumped Dean’s arm forcing him to look up right before Lisa walked over to them. “Dean, I hear you got tired of Y/N already. Want a real woman again?” Benny rolled his eyes at her words then cut his eyes at Dean. As much as he liked him he liked you too and if Dean wouldn’t speak up on your behalf he damn sure was going to. “Real woman Lisa? You mean a liar, manipulator and cheater? Y/N has been one of my closest friends for as long as I can remember. When I needed her she was there, when Sammy, Bobby, Ellen hell anybody needed her she was there. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. She fights for those she cares about, she takes care of everyone she can. She’s strong but still soft and I love her”

Benny’s eyes widened at Dean’s confession and Lisa looked like she swallowed a frog “You love that?” Dean stood off the stool at her words and smiled “Sweetheart there was never anyone but her”

------

You and Elizabeth were wandering around before the ceremony. You were dressed complete with flowers. The people loitering around the lobby looked like they belonged in one magazine or another at a newsstands. You spotted Alice and walked towards her with a smile “How’s Charity?” she laughed nervously “Scared?” “She’ll be fine. Your dad walking her?” she nodded so you added “Just tell him to have a good grip on her arm just in case and tell her to keep her head high. She’s beautiful and we’re all here for her” She smiled “Thanks Y/N” “Anytime”

Elizabeth had watched you talk to Alice and when you got back to her side she asked “How are you that good talking about your ex-fiance’s soon to be wife?” you shrugged “hindsight twenty twenty? Me and Micheal didn’t belong together. He just figured it out before I did” She nodded slightly “So who do you belong with?”

You could feel your cheeks threaten to warm as you thought about Dean. The way he made you feel when you’d wake up next to him or how he always went out of his way to make you laugh. How he always took care of everyone around him but resisted when it came to allowing someone to take care of him because he still wasn’t used to it. You were in love with him and had now possibly lost even his friendship. “Who I want I can’t have” you finally said and she asked “Why not?” “He doesn’t want me” you replied but froze when you heard Dean’s voice behind you “Are you sure about that? Because really if a guy has a shot at you and doesn’t take it he needs his ass kicked”

You looked back at Elizabeth but she was grinning at Benny “Oh dear brother of mine! Let’s go check out those nifty little stands they have set up near the doors!” you watched the two of them disappear then looked back at Dean “I never should’ve asked you to pretend this weekend” he nodded then smiled “And I should’ve admitted the reason I agreed was to get to spend some time with you so maybe I could figure out if you feel the same way about me that I do about you. Me and Lisa we never would’ve worked for the same reason you and Micheal never would’ve worked. I found who I want to be with and it’s you” “Dean please tell me you aren’t screwing with me right now” you whispered grateful the two of you had moved to the edge of the room where no one could overhear. “I’ve never been more serious about anything” you patted at the tears threatening to spill from your eyes “Christ I’m glad Liz had waterproof mascara” he bit back a laugh and motioned to your face “Those good tears?” you nodded “If you’re serious come kiss me Winchester” a smirk slipped onto his face “Don’t have to tell me twice”

@brilovesdeanwinchester @akshi8278 @bolontiku

@girl-next-door-writes

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #girl next doors make me feel bingo

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ackermans-freedom-inc · 4 years ago

Text

Hi anon! I hope you're still waiting for this! I have to admit im not 100% pleased with this but I had to post it after so many revisions. Hope its ok! I changed up the spying part of the ask a little bc I felt like Levi’s s/o wouldn't go off on a date with a dude without Levi. hope you like this!!! sry for blueballin yall at the end *wink wonk

Tease - LawyerAU, kinda spicy, kinda fluffy

The day had started like any other. Rolling over in bed, you were greeted by the delicious sight of Levi sitting on his side of the bed, a dress shirt half on as he tugged the sleeve over his arm. Reaching out, you traced the ink on his still uncovered arm, following the tendrils that curled, wrapping around his arm and ending just at his forearm. You pouted as you received a shirt thrown on your face. Pulling it off, you gave your best glare at the now clothed man who was assessing his wardrobe. “This for today?” he asked, holding out your favourite maroon dress with one hand as the other dangled his dark grey suit, his herringbone tie complimenting it while matching you. You nodded, taking a final whiff of Levi’s scent on the tshirt you had in your hands before swinging your feet onto the plush carpet that lined your side of the bed. As you stretched your arms above your head, a devilish idea popped into your head. Scurrying to your drawers, you snatched a couple items before running into the bathroom.

When you walked out moments later, Levi’s tie fell slack against his chest, fingers losing their hold on the pattern he was tying as he gawked. You were clad in a gorgeous lingerie set, perky breasts barely covered with sheer black fabric that was mirrored on your panties, little red ribbon lined up along the sides in a corset pattern. You stalked over, doing your best impression of a coy jaguar who had its prey in her sights. “Who’s the poor bastard on the receiving end of your power suit?” Levi murmured as he closed the gap, dipping his head, lips tracing the parts where your bra did not cover. Giggling, you pulled against his hair as he moved from your breasts to tasting the skin of your neck, butterfly kisses against your skin making your knees weak.

“Are you sure it’s not you?” you teased, a sharp intake of breath cutting your moan short as you were nipped by the man in your arms. Separating, Levi not-so-subtly adjusted his pants as you giggled, earning yourself a spank as you ran off to put on your dress.

You should’ve known better than to tease him. You should have known that if you started the fight, you should have fully intended to win. Halfway through the day, right before lunch, you had dismissed your last client, shaking their hand as they thanked you again. Having some extra time for yourself, you decided to peek your head out your office door, only to be called back to your desk by your ringing phone. “Y/N speaking.”

“Come to my office. Now”

You gulped. It was Levi.

Stepping out of your office, you looked around wildly for someone to bear witness to your fate. Unfortunately, Levi must have sent Hanji out to lunch early, and no soul would dare disturb Levi without Hanji there. Walking into Levi’s slightly larger office, you were about to plop down onto his couch when he barked from his chair, “Oi. Come here.” Your own eyes narrowing in suspicion, you hesitated, walking over with calculated clicks of your heels against the floor. Swivelling around in his chair, Levi regarded you coolly, chin resting on his hands as his elbows leaned against the armrests.

You fidgeted.

Just when you were about to open your mouth to ask what he wanted, Levi stood, grabbing you by the waist and plopping you on his desk, lips already latched onto your neck. You squeal of surprise quickly turned to a moan, but your sneaky boyfriend quickly muffled it with a gently hand over your mouth. “You reaaaally shouldn’t tease me Y/N…” he whispered, taking his time to press soft kisses along your jaw. “All I could think of during those stupid management meetings was your sexy little outfit…” Running a hand down your body, he showed you exactly what he was thinking about as one hand ghosted over your dress-clad breasts while the one that was over your mouth slid underneath the bottom of your dress, which had ridden up, to caress your thighs. “Levi…Not here!” you mewled, body betraying you as you leaned into his touch. You were putty in his hands by now breathing hard and fast, willing your hips not to buck as your body burned with desire. Pressing himself against you, Levi hissed as his hand made contact with the soft fabric of your panties. Please.

Suddenly, you felt cold. Opening your eyes, your jaw fell open. In front of you, holding your panties in his hand, a shit eating grin on his face was your boyfriend. “You!...You!!” You breathed, absolutely furious that you fell for it, a little embarrassed, but mostly frustrated. “I told you. You really shouldn’t tease me.” He reiterated, tucking your undergarments into his trouser pockets. He did not intend to give them back. The fiend!

Just when you were about to give him a piece of your mind, someone knocked on the door. Pulling your dress down to a more appropriate length, you turned to greet them, already knowing who it was. No one in the firm would have the guts to approach Levi’s office without Hanji there. No one except…

“Erwin!” you chirped, voice compensating for your still weak knees.

“Y/N.” the blonde man smiled, “Levi. Figured I’d find you two here. I need to speak with you regarding an important matter.”

Willing your knees not to buckle, you somehow made your way to the couches with some elegance before sitting down, squeezing your knees together to protect your modesty as you shot a glare toward Levi, who had sauntered over to take a casual seat next to you. Erwin sat himself across the coffee table, and leaned forward, hands on his knees as he regarded you. “Levi. You know my first client?”

“Yah, the Reiss fellow no?”

“That’s the one” Erwin nodded “He is one of the biggest clients this firm has, he holds much sway over local politics, and he is a loyal client and old friend. His son Roger called me today with a request. He sat in on the last meeting we had regarding his old man’s acquisition of MP Inc. Seems he has taking a shining to Y/N and requested her as a date to tonight’s fundraising gala at the museum.”

“Absolutely not” Levi spoke before you did, eyes blazing. “No way is he using his father’s influence over this firm to get a date. No way.”

“Levi” Erwin’s voice was pained. “I know how this must feel for you, but old man Reiss is a really important client. We cannot afford to lose his business, and it’s just one dinner engagement, and besides, they won’t be alone! We have extra tickets to the gala and you could accompany Petra and I.”

“Erwin. I don’t care who the man is, but he is NOT taking Y/N out on a date” Levi was fuming now, having gotten up from the couch and paced around his office, something you had not seen him do since one of his high profile cases had fallen apart years ago after a key witness suddenly refused to testify.

You bit your lip, your loyalty to Levi and your loyalty to the firm tearing you apart. “Levi…” you started, “Levi maybe I should go. Mr. Reiss is really important to the firm.”

“Erwin.” Levi seethed, unable to understand why you would even consider this ridiculous plan. “Erwin. Send. Someone. Else.”

“Levi. Believe me I’ve tried!” Erwin begged, a hand running down in face in exasperation. “I asked if he would like to go with Hanji, maybe Mikasa, or maybe even Sasha, hell I even offered him go with Petra, but he refused. He just wants to go with her.”

“Erwin she is NOT going!” Levi screamed, hands coming down to slam against his desk. You jumped. You had never seen Levi so angry before.

Standing quickly, you nodded towards Erwin, who was looking rather queasy himself. You knew how hard of a position he must have been placed in as well. Between his closest friend and his best client was not a good place to be. “Erwin. Tell Roger I’ll be there tonight. I’ll convince Levi. Don’t worry.” You whispered, giving the taller man a pat before turning to Levi. “Babe” you said, trying to calm him down by reminding him that he was your man. “Babe, why don’t we do what Erwin suggested. I will go on this measly little date with Mr. Reiss’s son, and why don’t you ask Hanji to go with you. That way, we can accomplish what Mr. Reiss wants, and you can be there to protect me if anything happens. We can even leave together right after the auction.”

“I’ll drive Hanji home, they live on the way” Erwin offered from his spot near the door.

Levi glared at the both of you. He was not blind to the fact that the firm needed wealthy clients, and he also had the pleasure of working with Reiss in the past. The man paid on time, never argued over the billed hours, and respected the time of others. And while he might trust Reiss, Levi sure as hell did not trust his son. At Erwin’s insistence, his anger dissipated enough for him to think slightly clearer. Your plan of action was not bad, after all, he could be there the whole time, tailing you to make sure the man didn’t do anything untoward. Closing his eyes, Levi took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he gave a tiny nod towards Erwin, who immediately breathed a sigh of relief. The blonde ran to you, shaking your hand before marching out the room, no doubt to go place a call.

You closed the gap between you and Levi, enveloping him in a hug, soothingly combing through silken locks between your fingers as you spoke. “Babe I will be in sight all night. We can get Erwin to arrange seats at nearby tables, and I promise you. It will be okay.”

Levi only grunted, still barely on board.

Thankfully, the rest of the workday passed without a hitch. Levi seemed to be in a better mood after a nice lunch date, Erwin encouraging you to take as long as you needed as neither of you had any more client meetings. At lunch, Levi had his hand on your thigh, and as he felt you squeeze your knees together, he had flashed you another knowing grin, hands creeping higher and higher under the table before you had to kick him in the shin for teasing you.

You were now waiting by Hanji’s desk as they packed up. All three of you were heading to your home to get ready. You had to find a dress to wear, Levi had to change into his tux, and Hanji had decided their work-clothes were formal enough, opting to just tag along to minimize hassle for later. Just when you were breezing out the door, one of the ladies at reception caught up to you, handing you a large white box. “This came for you Miss. Y/N.”

“Oh? From who?” you inquired, the lack of words on the box giving you no clues.

“Oh, it came from a man named Roger” she replied. You pretended not to notice the darkness that came over Levi’s face.

When you arrived home, Levi and Hanji both hung around you, trying, but failing to mask their interest in the contents of the box. So of course, you had to open it. As you took the lid off and tore apart the tissue paper, you were greeted by luxurious black fabric. It was a dress.

Levi swore he was going to kill everyone at the gala, murder charge be damned. The dress Roger had sent, he had to admit, looked absolutely divine on you. It was a full-length black dress, barely above the floor as you walked in your heels. There was a sinful cut that revealed a glimpse of your leg each time you took a step, and the way the neckline was cut did wonders for your modestly sized breasts. You looked like something out of Old Hollywood, classy yet sexy, leaving just enough to the imagination to keep people guessing. And god help him, Levi was going to make sure everyone in the room would be kept guessing. As you walked down the plush carpet that led to the museum entrance, that horrible man’s arm around your waist, Levi seethed to himself. Thankfully, Hanji had stuck by his side, and was currently whispering to him about how rat-faced Roger looked, and how you looked way too classy to be next to the likes of him. As you approached, Levi barely suppressed a smile as you removed Roger’s hand from your waist. He decided he was to make the first move. Stepping towards you, he stuck out his hand, “Levi Ackerman, Senior partner at Smith LLP. I believe we have not yet had the pleasure?”

You snorted as your date just blinked, caught unawares. He stammered his reply, “N-nice to meet you Levi. I’m Roger Reiss, I believe you’re familiar with my father.”

“Ah indeed.” Was Levi’s smooth reply.

The conversation quickly got awkward after that, and before long, Roger had excused himself to find his seat, you following close behind. When dinner was served a while later, you looked across the way to the next table, and was pleased to see Levi, making true on his promise and keeping an eye on you. You flashed him a smile, letting him know everything was okay. As you focused back on your actual date, you found him to be a nervous mess. He had been drinking, two flutes of champagne earlier, and he opted for both the red and the white during dinner. He ate quickly, barely paying you any attention and blowing you off when you tried to offer contributions to the things he was talking about. As the tables around you emptied, people choosing to go mingle, he was still rambling. This time talking about how he had first met you during the MP Inc acquisition and saying something about how beautiful he found you. You smiled and thanked him. But before you could say anything more, he cut you off again, continuing. “And you know, Miss Y/N, I love that you’re a lawyer. I like a woman who can talk back to me. But if you were my woman, would you quit your job? I’m the type of man who likes dinner on the table when I’m home, the laundry done, and the little ones tucked into bed.”

You were not impressed. Leaning away from his touch, you steeled your eyes at the man before you. He was nothing like Reiss, and you absolutely hated him. “Roger, I think what you’re looking for is a housekeeper. Not a wife.” You said, ice in your voice. “Unfortunately, I have my heart set on someone already.”

“Oh? And who might that be” was the reply as he leaned towards you once more.

“I believe that would be me.” You saw Levi before you heard him, one hand flying out and holding Roger back by the forehead while the other took your hand, helping you stand as you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s free arm.

Roger was now at the receiving end of two death glares as he gawked, the poor man not registering what happened. At that moment, Erwin chose to make an appearance, Reiss Senior beside him as Petra followed. You immediately smiled, remembering how nice the elder man had been when you handled his business. Apparently, he shared the sentiment a he shook your hand in both of his, eyes little half-moons as he smiled at you. Turning his attention away from you, he turned to Levi, shaking his hand the same way. “What’s this? Levi! Do my ears deceive me or are you saying Miss Y/N here is spoken for?”

“I am indeed sir.” Levi nodded.

“A thousand apologies my boy! I would not have put Erwin in such a spot if I had known you and Miss Y/N were an item! When Roger told me he was taking Miss Y/N to the gala, he said they had been seeing each other for weeks! It truly speaks to your professionalism that you even entertained Roger’s request!” Reiss clapped a hand on Levi’s shoulder before smiling up at Erwin. “You got good people Erwin. Let me deal with my son, I’m afraid I have much to educate him on.”

As the elder Reiss walked over to collect his son, who was now sitting in his chair, wilted and dejected, Petra, Erwin, and Hanji’s eyes fell on you. “Well” Erwin started, “That…went surprisingly well?”

At that, you started to laugh. “I thought Mr. Reiss was going to kill me!”

“Thought the old man was going to kill me for laying hands on the fool” Levi spoke from your side

“I thought Y/N was going to punch little Reiss in the face!” Hanji exclaimed

As your group laughed, you caught sight of Reiss senior dragging Roger out the door by his ear, sounds of him scolding his son about “respecting women” and “can’t believe you lied to me” fading as they departed.

You and Levi had left the gala soon after, preferring the sanctuary that was home to the lights and the glamour. You took off the dress that Roger had sent, and Levi took no time in boxing it back up, declaring it to be sent to the donation bin first thing in the morning. Opting to shower together, your kisses became hotter and hotter as the water slowly got colder. You were frustrated after Levi’s teasing all day, and after the fiasco with Roger, you wouldn’t wait to show Levi how much you appreciated a man like him. You practically dragged him into bed, small damp footsteps leading leaving marks on the bathroom floor. But you didn’t care, and you hoped Levi wouldn’t either. Collapsing onto bed, you pushed Levi onto his back and crawled up in between his legs. When he tried to sit up to kiss you, you placed a hand against his chest and heaved him back down onto his back. Quirking a brow at his surprise, you flicked your hair back, thankful you hadn’t washed it, and got to work.

#snk imagine #snk imagines #levi x reader #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan imagine #aot imagine #aot imagines #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #aot fanfiction #aot fic #levi ackerman fic #attack on titan fic #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #snk levi #levixreader #snk x reader #suz.writes.

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elf-kings · 4 years ago

Text

my love/saving

(death, gore, violence)

‘We were children,’ Turgon says. Maeglin does not answer. He sits on Turgon’s bed with his hands folded on his knee. ‘We knew nothing. How could we be anything but children? You don’t… you don’t grow wiser when there is no pain.’

Still Maeglin says nothing. His hair is cut at his shoulders. He has one herringbone braid running down his back.

‘But you must know that more than anyone,’ Turgon whispers. He watches the way the light cuts a white strip over Maeglin’s face. ‘Now I know what it is to lose a parent.’

Maeglin stares back at him. His eyes are unreadable. He keeps his mouth in a narrow line.

Turgon takes another gulp of his wine. He stares out the window. There is still blood beneath his fingernails.

‘Fuck,’ he whispers. The mountains are tall, but still the eagles can fly over them – fly to him, bring him his father’s dead body and lay it on the mountainside. At least this. A burial.

His fingers shake as he drinks the wine down. He doesn’t taste it. He just wants to forget. Or to be something that he isn’t. Or to be somewhere else. Stab a knife in a map and make that your pick. (He will not leave.)

He stares at Maeglin. Maeglin silently refills his cup. Turgon thanks him with a nod. He swallows down more. The wine is dark in his golden cup. The gold is sharp, sharp in the light. It is the morning, nearing noon. He trembles. He drinks more. The gold of the cup highlights the blood beneath his nails.

‘You aren’t then entirely deserted,’ Maeglin says. It’s the first thing he’s said in awhile. The words are flat.

‘What?’

‘It was Manwë who would send the eagle to bring you your father’s body?’ Maeglin is still unreadable. ‘He has some mercy.’ His lips are set straight and tight when he finishes the sentence. His hair brushes against his cheek, against the white line cutting over it. Maeglin brushes his hair back.

Maeglin is dressed in grey velvet. He looks like his mother. He looks half dead. There is something missing in his eyes. A will to live? Turgon sits beside him. The light cuts over the stone floor of his bedroom. He has no rugs. The stone is cold in the winter. It might be a punishment.

‘But you stay here,’ Maeglin says. ‘In hiding. Is the pain not worth it then? The wisdom or whatever it is you might gain? Growing up?

Turgon shakes his head. His thoughts are a storm in his head – a collision of warm winds and cold winds and electricity singing. Each thought is drowned the moment after he thinks of it. He falters for an answer.

‘We were children,’ he says again.

‘You didn’t know better?’ Maeglin asks, answers, questions.

‘We didn’t know better. How could we?’

Maeglin leans forward. His face is not in the light now, just his hands. They gleam white.

‘So you would go back and change it, then?’

‘What?’ Turgon is watching the patterns of the light on the floor. The sun is too bright. It is warm and rich and summer. The sun shines. The ground is green. Everything is blooming or ripening. It should be raining with the sky grey and everything crying with him. He isn’t crying. There is blood beneath his nails.

Blood on his hands. Blood on his hands. Blood on his hands.

Turgon stumbles to the bathroom and washes his hands. He scrubs at them and scrapes beneath his nails. The rest of the blood washes off, except for one spot beneath a fingernail. He turns his nail up, ripping it up out of his skin, ripping half of it off. Now there is blood on his hands, but at least it is his.

He lay beside his father’s dead body for a day and a half. He held him in his arms, although he was torn. He kissed his face, although it was broken. He let the night fall around them. He let the morning come. He could not cry. He has not cried. He touched his father’s chest. He touched his ribs.

His heart was the only thing left whole in him.

And Turgon lifted it from his body, and blood ran down his fingers, but his hair, his skin, his clothes, everything, was already touched with blood, red with blood, dried with blood, so it did not matter.

His hair was tangled up with the blood and matted. He cut it all off, so it did not matter in the end.

His head feels so light now. He has no crown, no braids, no adornment. His hair is gone. He runs his hand over the roughness of the cut. The sharp ends burn the nail bed on his finger.

‘What have you done?’ Maeglin asks, soft, no tone, just soft.

Turgon stares at his reflection. He was washed. He could not do it himself. It made him a child again, but a child who carried a pain like a prison inside him.

They had had no idea how much could go wrong. How much tragedy would hurt. How much tragedy there could be.

He rends cloth from his sleeve and wraps it around his finger to stop the blood. Maeglin steps forward and helps him tie it into place. Turgon rends his shirt. It is a clean shirt, but he still wants it torn. He wants to show his grief openly so that everyone will know what is that he feels inside of him: The gushing pain of it. How his body is as broken as the body he held.

He hadn’t realised how cold and still a heart could be. He should have paid more attention to pain in Valinor. He should have noticed how Fëanor was going mad with pain.

He felt it too when he looked down at his father’s body. Something snapped inside of him. He does not know what it was, just that he will never have it back.

He turns to Maeglin. He looks so much like Eöl. Is there a world in which Maeglin, too, is thrown to his death? Black hair spinning, eyes wild. Would his mouth still be set then? Or would it open in a scream?

Turgon had not been able to shut his father’s mouth. Once he wouldn’t have known that. Once. Before, when they were the children of the kindest summer, golden and silver, making promises that meant nothing because there was no meaning besides joy.

It’s nauseating. What it was like once. What it is now. He’s not thinking straight, but how can he? He is spinning, falling, and he would not be able to keep his face calm if he fell to his death. Eöl couldn’t. His eyes were terror. Maeglin watched.

Maeglin watched the same way he watches Turgon now, no expression, eyes missing something.

‘What is it?’ Turgon says. He finds his way out of the bathroom and falls onto the bed. He drinks down the rest of the wine in the cup. There is no blood on the cup, or in the wine. No blood on him except for the red that creeps up from beneath the white cloth around his finger.

‘What is what?’ Maeglin says. He sits beside him. He is still awake. Idril cried herself to sleep. Turgon wonders if she dreams now. He has not slept. He will not sleep. He will not go to his brother and comfort him. It’s so far. He will not leave.

‘What is missing from you?’ Turgon asks. ‘There’s something wrong with you.’

‘Love?’ Maeglin says like it’s nothing. ‘Maybe I wasn’t loved enough. I didn’t get the… whatever it is you’re supposed to get? What is it? Or maybe I only got it from my mother. And I will become like Fëanáro. Go mad for it. Lack of love. Too much love. Nothing or everything. Maybe we aren’t supposed to be like this. So dependant on someone, so desperate for something we can’t have. Maybe you see that. Maybe someday it will kill me.’

‘I’m so drunk,’ Turgon says. He gulps down water from a glass bottle and tries not to drop it. He drops it on the bed. Maeglin takes it and sets it on the table. ‘It wasn’t...’

Maeglin stares at him.

‘It wasn’t enough,’ Turgon says. ‘You poor child. I’m breaking because I loved him.’

‘You left your mother,’ Maeglin says. ‘You could have turned back, you know. At any time. Or when the ships burnt. Your wife would be alive.’

Turgon chokes on nothing or the air. He tries to drag his hand through his hair, but his hair is gone, and his hand hits his lap.

‘Why must you torture me? I wanted everything. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.’

‘Didn’t know how it would hurt?’ Maeglin says, and now his voice has a tone, but it is mocking. ‘To endure something you couldn’t imagine?’

Turgon nods or tries to. He stares at his hand. His hand is so clean. His hand is shaking. When will he cry?

‘Maybe I’m angry,’ Maeglin says. ‘At you for killing my father. Or maybe that’s impossible since he killed my mother, and I hate him. Maybe I’m angry that you’re this distraught. Maybe I wanted love great enough to send me breaking down into pieces until I was nothing more than a child, not a king. If you call yourself a king, here, hidden from all.

‘Or maybe I’m angry because I had that grief inside me when my mother died, but I couldn’t let it out, because no one there knew me, and I knew no one, and I was a stranger, surrounded by strangers, and no one could promise me that I would ever be loved again, so I had to hold myself together because no one likes a broken toy.’

‘Do you think you’re a toy?’

‘I think I’m a pawn. Or that I was. Something to keep her there. And then I was something else… maybe a bit of potential. Would I be horrid if I married your daughter? I love her, you know.’

‘No, no, no,’ Turgon says. ‘She doesn’t love you in such a way, child.’ He closes his eyes. His lids are heavy. Everything about him is heavy, except for his head, which is light, and could spin off him like a top. Then he would be a broken toy too. What a thing to call yourself. What a thing. His fingers reach for Maeglin, but glide through air and reach nothing.

‘She could love you as a brother, though,’ he says. ‘Or as a cousin, as you are. She could...’

‘So she doesn’t?’

‘Yes, I guess not,’ Turgon says. ‘I guess not.’

‘Do you? Love me as a child?’

Turgon opens his eyes. Maeglin’s face is unreadable. Why must he keep himself so silent, so closed?

‘Yes,’ Turgon says.

Maeglin’s face does not change.

‘Do you think that’s a bad decision?’ Maeglin asks. ‘To love someone else? Set yourself up for more pain when I die.’

He is immortal, but he does not say if. He says when. But then again, Turgon has been saying when lately too.

‘We were children,’ Turgon says. ‘We didn’t know.’

‘No,’ Maeglin says. ‘But still, you left your mother. Don’t cry to me too hard. I never left my mother.’ His eyes are sharper then the broken ribs that cut Turgon’s hands as he reached for his father’s heart. (He had to cut them more, so not to break it.) ‘I was her guard.’

Turgon laughs at this. He expects the laugh to break into a sob, but it does not. Maybe it was his sanity that snapped. Maybe he’ll die now, without any promises.

‘You didn’t guard her well then,’ Turgon says.

‘Fuck you,’ Maeglin says, and still it is flat. There is no scoff, no sneer. Maeglin stares. ‘At least I tried.’

Turgon turns his face away. The wind is warm coming in through the window. The sun is so warm that it feels like a blanket around him. It is bright. It gleams sharp on the scarlet heart on the table.

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shadowsfascination · 4 years ago

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Shadamy Swordland | ch. 5 | Lead the Way!

It was still early and therefore dark on a cold February morning when a caped Shadow and a cloaked Amy silently prowled around the academy grounds. Crossing the main square once again to get to the outskirts of the district, a blanket of fresh snow softly crackled under their shoes. The snow covered the herringbone-laid brick on the streets and the lack of daylight gave the snow a blueish glow. It sure has something enchanting-, Amy though to herself.

Treading lightly in attempt to make as little noise as possible, Amy exhaled in her already cold hands. The warm vapor of her breath felt nice on them for a brief moment, but they quickly grew even colder than before. She always wore gloves, but the her usual ones were thin and she forgot to put on her winter gloves this morning. Even when she’d placed them on the table next to the door, that was.

Shadow wasn’t much affected by the cold. He’d wrapped his scarf around her neck and provided her one of his sweaters as well before they’d hit the road. It wasn’t hard to captivate his scent like this and it reminded Amy of the time she had had a secret crush on her trainer. Before every training session she used to ‘accidentally’ put her coat over his on the coat rack. It provided her coat with his masculine scent and she would secretly dwell in it afterwards. Back in the days it’d felt bittersweet to her because he wasn’t interested in her and she believed of them to have neither future or potential together.

While walking in silence through the cold morning Amy wondered why they were walking in the first place. Now that she’d learnt about his special ‘chaos’ skills, he didn’t need to hide them any longer- from her that was. Shadow explained to her that using his special skills, like warping, cost a high amount of energy. With the gemstone Shadow liked to refer to as a ‘Chaos emerald’, believed to be far away from South Island, there already was little energy to begin with. The thought of wasting the precious energy for every little thing was to be unheard of to him and so they trothed onwards through the snow.

The pink hedgehog researched every bit of information available about the tale yesterday. With the help of her dear friend Miles she collected a remarkable amount of notes on the subject when she left the library. Amy felt inspired and was eager to start this adventure, especially when the actual hero of the story was involved right here, right now. Still, she felt a little uneasy because she felt like some of her notes were missing. A couple of lines got stuck in her head and she couldn’t remember whether they were something she read or written down. Her mind drifted off and she went through yesterday’s events one more time:

__________________________________________________________

“Plagues, Miles, loosen up!”

'Miles', which was Tails’ his actual name, handed his friend a paper towel to wipe her hands before diving into the historic tales together. According to Amy he took his duty of keeping the books in his library in the best condition possible way too serious. The fox had, uncharacteristic as it was, assertively told her: ‘my library, my rules’.

Amy did as she was asked and grasped a notebook from her bag. In a zealous way she penned down everything that seemed important for their search, making sure the lay-out of her notes looked like a summary for a test. She dug through the pile of books Tails had picked out for her. She chuckled when she saw the many small, coloured pieces of paper sticking out of their pages. She was lucky to have a friend like him, even when there actually was no test to prepare for.

Amy lost herself in the exciting facts she came to know. Tails busied himself with other things like speaking to visitors and organizing the books on the countless shelves. Aqueous sunlight shone through the tall, stained-glass windows, drawing long shadows every time someone passed by. The colours of the glass-paintings broke the light into more subtle beams. After an hour or so, Amy’s eyes grew tired from the pleasant warmth of the sun through the windows, slowing down her pace. She yawned and decided it was time for a break. Tails went out to the kitchen to make them some tea.

Amy wavered through the things she wrote down and contemplated about where to start searching for the gemstone. She fell back in her seat and fixed her gaze on the ceiling and was surprised to find wood-carved illustrations on some of the beams.

The guardians of the jewel are echidnas… she quietly muttered.

Amy walked up to a bookcase and started looking for the letter ‘E’ until she found an informative book about Echidnas. She grabbed the book rushed through its’ pages. A map of their planet, portrayed on the next page showed the various locations of well-known echidna populations throughout the planet. She read out loud:

“‘Echidnas can live anywhere from mountainous peaks to deserts… They are able to cope with extreme weather…’”

Suddenly the door was swung open and a blue tornado-like wind whirled through the library, swirling up loose pieces of paper to spread them all over the place. A thumping of footfalls on the wooden floor accompanied this outburst of chaos before coming to a stop and bumping into the table because ‘it’ reduced its’ speed too late. Amy’s quills were blown into her face and she hurried back to the table. Her notes fluttered around and a well-known blue hedgehog laid clumsily spread across the table; Sonic the Hedgehog.

Sonic was a student like her, training to become a knight within the high order of knights like Shadow. He was Blaze’s student, who was a close friend of hers. It was a shame the cat had so little time to hang out, Amy thought when thinking about her friend. Sonic and Amy got along fine, but didn’t talk that often.

“Whoops… Hi Amy!”

“My notes! Sonic… look at the mess you’ve made!”

She impatiently tapped her foot at him, her hands planted on her sides.

“What are you waiting for? Go help me gather them!”

He jumped up and hastily grasped some notes. Amy collected some as well and snatched the untidy pile of the now crinkled pages out of Sonic’s hands.

___________________________________________________________

Amy swallowed. Either Sonic or Tails could have found her missing pages.

Well, can’t do much about it now, so I gotta let it go.

She shrugged the thought off and stepped forward into much more white than she expected and gasped when ice cold snow dripped into her boots.

“Right on time.”

Rouge waved at the two she could barely believe got together. Shadow’s breastplate reflected the fierce light from the now upcoming sun. Rouge squinted her eyes and covered them with her hands. She was clothed in a thick robe, matching gloves and boots and a purple, turtleneck-like scarf was wrapped around her neck.

“Tone it down, will ya? I’m already not too fond of being out in the sunlight.”

“Tough luck. Now, shall we?”

He pointed to the east from where they were standing, to an entrance of a cave. The females nodded and the three of them footed their way to the foot of the mountain. Leaving the countless fir trees and the snow behind when entering the cave, Rouge couldn’t be more pleased. The climate in the cave was damp and warm, noticeably less cold than the outside air, much to her satisfaction. Amy used an easy sacred art spell to light the torch they brought and she stepped forward to lead the way.

“I’m not complaining or anything, but why are we in this place?”

“The tale says that the stone is guarded by the designated echidna family. Echidnas like to dig.”

Rouge was already halfway through the breath she’d drawn to protest when she sensed something that cut off her opposition. Even though Amy’s starting point was built on a hasty conclusion, she might be right, Rouge thought to herself. Casting a spell under her breath, Rouge attempted to draw out chaos affected spores in the air. They showed her the amount of present chaos energy in her surroundings. Even when there were none to be found yet, Shadow caught on to the increasing activity of her sacred arts.

“Trust me. I’ve done plenty of research and I’ve got a real good feeling about this.”

“It’s a little too early to trust you already, hun.”

“For starters: don’t call me that.”

In the blink of an eye Amy drew her rapier and with a swift, yet threatening move she swung it towards Rouge, forcing her to a stop. The bat blinked before lowering her eyelids. Amy found it hard to name that expression. All she knew was she didn’t care for it. She felt mocked in a way. A grin spread across Shadow’s muzzle, a hint of that mocking expression Rouge had playing his eyes.

“You don’t wanna mess with her, Rouge. Especially when she’s angry.”

“Second: I don’t think you have much of a choice but to trust us.” Amy said.

“Geez! Fine, I’ll drop the nickname if you insist.”

“I do. By the way, I’ve been wondering: how’d you two meet?”

Amy hid her rapier in its’ sheathe again. Shadow and Rouge shared a glance, the flickering light of the torch casting a warm glow on their skin.

“Go ahead, tell her. I couldn’t care less.”

“Rouge used to be a member of the high order of knights. We worked together for a period of time. She was fired though because of a rather unfortunate incident.”

“Hmph! Coward! ‘Unfortunate incident’?! You don’t even dare to call me a thief, do ya?”

“Trust me, when it comes to being blunt, you’re outmatched, but unlike you I don’t enjoy putting someone on the spot and talk trash.”

“Anyway…!”- Rouge snorted, ignored Shadow and increased the volume in her voice. “I endeavoured to steal some beautiful regal gems, got caught and have been an outcast ever since.”

“Why did you do that?” Amy asked her.

“I was pregnant and in need of money.”

“You had your loan, right? That should’ve been more than enough.” Shadow said in a crude way.

Without anyone being aware of it they had stopped walking. Rouge turned towards Shadow with crossed arms.

“You’re such an oblivious fool, Shadow! No knight in the high order can have kids while serving. They would’ve fired me either way. I was about to become a mother without a job and a roof above my head. Desperate times call for desperate measures! And on top of that: those jewels were absolutely gorgeous! It’s a shame I didn’t get my hands on them.”

Shadow’s ears fell back, gaze fixed on the ground by now. Even when she didn’t see his eyes, she read his shock from his posture.

“You … didn’t know?”

“Correct. The board clearly left out the pregnancy part when they explained your departure. How despicable.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. Let’s forget about it already.”

“That’s no way to treat a lady!” Amy hissed.

“I never even noticed you were pregnant at the time.”

“Again: not surprised. The Shadow I knew was never the least bit interested in women or anything even slightly related to romance, sex or intimacy. That sure changed.” Rouge shifted her eyes to Amy, who smiled an awkward smile.

“I told you before: don’t interfere.”

“I’m not. Just saying it as it is.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re in a relationship, for crying out loud! Believe you me, I’ve never had an interest in you like that. Though I couldn’t help but wonder who on the planet could ever manage to break down those sky high walls you’ve put up over the years. I haven’t seen you in ages, Shadow. To see this cute pink hedgehog beside you… I’m just surprised you know…”

Amy was unsure whether this was a compliment or if Rouge was belittling her, which was sure to be a mistake. She locked eyes with her lover, who simply shrugged and told her Rouge wasn’t wrong about her being cute.

“I have to admit I’m impressed, Amy. You even got him to defile his oath and break the rules he’s so hang up on to follow.”

“Let’s drop the subject and just keep walking, okay?” Shadow sneered.

While continuing their search, Amy asked about Rouge’s kids. Rouge unravelled they were twins; a boy and a girl who were at the age of 4 now. The bat seemed fine with her questions and so Amy asked everything she liked to know and didn’t hold back. The pregnancy had surprised the now mother of two at the time. Somehow the guy who knocked her up wasn’t around anymore and it was just her and her two little troublemakers, as she called them.

Gradually the atmosphere between the trio got a friendly note to it. Rouge even teased Shadow, setting him on edge by saying he didn’t need to worry about the kids being his. With aggravated frown and deadpanned expression he stated it was an unnecessary thing to say. He could feel her eyes bore into the back of his head and pictured the kind of grimace that surely curled her lips.

They hit a bifurcation from where the tunnel divided into two separate corridors. Rouge drew out the chaos spores in the air to determine which way to go. They looked like a turquoise equivalent of fireflies. They swirled around in the air for a moment and then concentrated on the left corridor. It was the first time Amy witnessed a visible form of chaos energy and she was mesmerised by it.

A self-complacent smile curved the full lips of the bat-woman when she passed by Amy, her curved hips swaying as she did so. She lead the way while following the swarm-like chaos spores. With every step they made into the corridor its’ amount increased like a silent promise they were on the right track. The trio, now filled with curiosity and excitement, picked up the pace and Rouge peeked around the corner. She abruptly came to a stop and gave a muffled cry.

“A dead end?!”

Rouge cursed out loud, addressing the spores like they were a person who’d betrayed her. The three looked up to the bolt of energy whizzing above their heads. Shadow tapped at his cheek with his index finger, clearly brooding over the possibilities.

“Maybe not.”

Shadow stretched out his arms and absorbed the chaos energy from the spores to grasp the hands of the others next. At their touch a blue-greenish luminary flash gushed through them, increasing both their transparency and transcendence. He briefly informed them about his plan to jump through the ceiling, letting their chaos-affected bodily forms break the molecular structure of the rocks apart. The two women strongly disagreed with his plan. Feeling rather confident about this, he decided not to care about their opinions. He simply grabbed one of their arms and jumped up.

“This should work!”

_________________________________________

Summary: Shadow, Amy and Rouge begin their search for the gemstone after Amy thoroughly prepares their adventure with the help of her dear friend Tails. While on the road, Rouge opens up about surprising events from her past. ______________________________ Pffft, this felt more like a puzzle than a story to me. Never have I dragged so many alineas up and down the page to fit everything into place. I also struggled with translations of figure of speach here. One of the downsides of writing in English for me... Even so, when I translated a small part of ch 1 into my native language, it felt both off and odd to me. Also: sorry about the lenght! - Like always: share your thoughts if you will and send me a not for annoying typo's or grammar mishaps. I'd really appreciate it! <3 - I uploaded this and some other stories/oneshots on AO3 recently. Username's the same as always

@shadamyheadcanons : promised to keep you updated

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haltandcatchfiretothemax · 4 years ago

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FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2021 #11: In which Cameron is persuaded by Donna

[CN: food/meal prep mentions; grown women alluding to and discussing their longtime sexual relationship]

In late January of the year 2000, Donna got up and went next door to Cameron’s office to ask her, “Hey, do you wanna have an at-home date night for Valentine’s Day? It’s a Monday, but maybe the night before?”

Cameron looked up from her computer. “An at-home date night?”

Closing the door to Cameron’s office behind her, Donna said, “Yeah, like a date! But at home! We should treat ourselves, Phoenix is up and running and doing surprisingly well, the girls are doing really well, we averted the Y2K crisis! Everything’s coming up Milhouse!”

Cameron laughed, “Everything kind of is coming up Milhouse, isn’t it?” Then, suddenly serious, she said, “Knock on wood,” and preceded to anxiously knock three times on the top of her desk. She looked back up at Donna, and asked her, “What would this at-home date entail?”

Now standing in front of Cameron’s desk, Donna said, “Well, okay, we could get out the good plates, and we could order from a nice, upscale restaurant, and we can get dressed up? Okay, confession,” Donna admitted, sinking into the arm chair across from Cameron. “I sort of just want to get dressed up.” The Phoenix office was much more casual than both the Texas Instruments and AGGEK offices, which Donna considered an unequivocal net good, but occasionally, she did have days where she missed rolling into work in designer suits, shoes, and jewelry.

Cameron sighed. “I don’t have any problem doing the cooking, we don’t have to order in. Do we have to get dressed up though? Is that the one non-negotiable here?”

“I’m afraid it is,” Donna nodded.

“Well,” Cameron said, looking back at her computer screen, “I feel like that’s just a little unfair because you look much better dressed up than I do, but if you think it’s necessary….”

“I disagree that I look better dressed up than you do, and I do think it’s necessary,” Donna countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Is it, though?” Cameron looked at her again, shoulders now sagging. “I mean, why?”

Donna looked at her, incredulous, for a moment. And then, she uncrossed her arms and crossed her legs at the knee as she leaned forward, and said, her voice slightly lowered, “Because. Then I get to take your nice clothes off of you.”

Cameron, thoroughly disarmed, as always, by Donna’s crossed legs, said, “…oh.” Cheeks turning pink, she said, “Okay, well, I will admit that that sounds like a very good reason to get dressed up.”

Donna winked at her before standing up to go back to her office.

***

They slept in on the morning of their date night (or, after they were briefly meowed out of bed by a hangry Licorice, that is), dozing for almost two hours, curled up together, and then they got up to make a leisurely brunch together, and later they went for a long walk while the sun was still out, as they usually would on a Sunday. They talked, sleepily at first, about everything else they’d done that weekend: on Friday night Cameron had stayed in and started a new video game and Donna had gone out with Diane for tapas, and on Saturday Donna had done lunch and shopping with Tanya, while Cameron had gone with Bos to their favorite park, and their second favorite diner.

And then, when they got back from their walk, they started to get ready for that evening.

Cameron decided to get dressed before starting dinner. While Donna busied herself with setting the table and spending some quality time with Licorice, Cameron went up to the master bath and took a long hot shower and washed her hair. She was in the walk-in closet, trying to decide what to wear, when Donna went up their room to check in with her.

“Hey, how’s it going?” she called out. “Is there anything I can do to help with dinner before I start getting ready?”

Cameron, intimidated as always by the simple prospect of trying to make herself look presentable, sighed huffily, “No, that’s okay, but thanks for asking.” She looked through her clothes for a moment, and then she said, “Actually….” She shrugged off her robe, hung it up, and in nothing but her underwear, she went out into the bedroom. “Maybe you can help me with something.”

Donna, eye brows raised with delight, took several long seconds to check Cameron out before replying “…yes?”

Nodding her head back toward the closet, Cameron asked, “Wanna help me figure out what to wear?”

Still gazing hungrily at Cameron’s bare shoulders and slightly damp hair, Donna said, “Okay, yeah. I think I might be able to be of some assistance, here….” Cameron retreated into the walk-in, and Donna excitedly followed her.

Cameron stood back, and let Donna look at her side of the closet. Eyes narrowed, Donna surveyed Cameron’s wardrobe, and after a long minute, she pulled a button down forest green, black, and grey plaid button down shirt, a pair of black straight-legged wool blend trousers somehow felt and fit more like jeans than slacks, a pair of black y-back suspenders, and held them up for Cameron to look at. “How about this?”

Grinning, Cameron took the shirt from her. “Sure, that could work.” She pulled the shirt on, as Donna watched, and then took the pants and the suspenders from Donna. She attached the suspenders to the waistband of her pants, and as she pulled them on, Donna looked through her clothes again, and grabbed a dark grey blazer with a black plaid print on it.

As Cameron pulled the suspenders up onto her shoulders, she said, “Plaid on plaid? That’s a bold choice.”

“Fortune favors the bold,” Donna said. “Also, we won’t be seen in public.”

“That’s true,” Cameron grinned. She slipped on a pair of black loafers, and then she buttoned her shirt, and tucked the tails into her waistband. She started to roll up her sleeves, glancing in the full-length mirror to see how she looked.

Donna put the blazer back, and went to her jewelry box. A minute later, she met Cameron back at the mirror with a white gold herringbone necklace that Cameron was sure cost more than every piece of clothing she owned combined.

Feigning exasperation, Cameron said, “Okay, fine, if we must.” She let Donna put the necklace around her throat, and gathered her hair in her hand and swept it over her shoulder, holding it out of the way. When Donna had fastened the necklace, Cameron turned around to face her, and shook her hair out and back into place.

Donna looked her up and down, and then smiled at her. She picked a piece of lint from Cameron’s collar, and then she unbuttoned the top two buttons on her shirt. Smoothing down Cameron’s lapels, Donna said, “You are both beautiful and handsome and it never stops being amazing and fascinating to me.”

Blushing slightly, Cameron said, “It never stops being amazing and fascinating to me that someone likes that about me.”

Pushing a stray strand of hair out of Cameron’s eyes, Donna kissed her on the nose, and said, “I don’t think it’s that amazing, but I’m glad you’re into it, that works out well for us.” She gave Cameron one last scan, and then she reached for the blazer, and held it out to Cameron. “Meet you downstairs in an hour?”

With a slightly lopsided smile, Cameron promised her, “I’ll come and pick you up.”

Cameron wouldn’t remember what they ate or drank that night, or cooking. But she would remember realizing that she was done cooking, and rushing to pull off her apron, and put on the blazer, and run up to the bedroom to let Donna know that dinner was ready, and Donna opening the bedroom door, dressed in a long-sleeved black sweater, black leather pencil skirt, and a pair of black suede knee high stiletto boots that she hadn’t yet gotten a chance to wear. And then, later, in bed, after Donna had undressed her, grudgingly, breathlessly admitting, “Okay, you were right. This was a great reason to get dressed up.”

#cameron 'did someone say bold print bisexual?' howe #donna 'lowkey leatherd*ke' emerson #it took me a ridiculously long time to settle on cameron's outfit but you know what? I STAND BY IT #just as i stand with every gay out there who's worried that they'll never get to dress and undress another woman ever again #femslash february #femslash february 2021 #fan fiction #cameron howe #donna clark #donna emerson

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slippinmickeys · 4 years ago

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Circle

This was for the #XFSmut2020 exchange. I had the lovely @kyouryokusenshi whose prompt was: “Post MSIV pregnancy sex. Scully’s hormones are raging and everything is tender.”

To look at her, curled up on her side in their bed, you couldn’t tell she was pregnant.

Hair fanned out on the pillow like it had been styled by a beauty team; curled about her on a wave of titian silk, her face soft, but composed -- stately in her age, but still beautiful.

He moved a hand lightly under the covers and ran it over the swell of her stomach, felt the firmness push back at him. A baby swam inside; cells dividing, constructing and nurturing, half him, half her. It felt like even more of a miracle this time though they’d done it once before. He adopted the same credo he had the last time, with William: best not to question it.

They had a firm due date. It was easy to calculate -- the vibrating psychosis of Little Judy leaving an indelible mark on not just their psyche, but their calendar, too. He remembered back to that night. Lying with her in his arms, Scully wondering aloud if he could and would find someone new to start a family with. Like he could just go to a market and select a bride. Here, this one.

Somebody else? Didn’t she know that wasn’t possible? He hadn’t been able to see anyone but her since she’d clipped into his basement office and blinded him with science.

She sniffed slowly to awareness beside him, eyelids fluttering open as she moved to put her own hand on top of his.

“‘Morning,” she rasped.

“Hey,” he said.

The morning sun shot bands of light through the shades and over the floor of the bedroom, creeping incrementally closer toward their bed as it rose.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, he leaned over and kissed her, once, twice. Breathing in the sleepy musk of her breath, the smell of hair that had soaked in a jasmine bubble bath the night before and dried on a feather pillow. He couldn’t get enough of her. Not for 25 years, not for 25 more.

“Mm,” Scully hummed as he fell back against his own pillow, and she reached out with a foot to burrow it under his calf.

She had told him only the night before how much she was enjoying this stage of pregnancy - past that miserable first stage and well on into the second trimester. How the last time she’d been so miserable missing him that even the little joyful things -- getting that first sonogram picture, feeling the first flutterings of movement -- were lost in the haze of her grief. How now she was enjoying them twofold, three. Once for herself, once for him, and once for William, who was still out in the world, connected to them by the tethers of biology and shared jeopardy.

He felt her pull her foot out from under him and then started running just her toes gently up the skin of his leg, and he cocked his eyebrows at her in question. She cocked hers right back. Right, he thought. This stage of pregnancy also came with the full flush of hormones, as likely to turn her amorous as they were to make her say “I’m turning food into a person, you get to fold laundry.”

His crotch leapt to attention. ...Leapt wasn’t the right word, he thought. Things didn’t much leap anymore, but they rose admirably to duty whenever called upon, and that was something considering this day and his age.

“Agent Scully, are you coming on to me?” his voice rumbled in the quiet of the room.

She nodded solemnly.

The nights were for passionate, sometimes desperate coupling in the dark -- but mornings were for slow, languorous bouts of lovemaking that they’d been denied so much in their lives together. This morning felt no different, the acreage of their bed laid out for exploration of each other, in the sluggish time before that first cup of coffee. He rolled toward her, nosing her cheek before darting out a tongue to taste her lips.

How strange to imagine his world with her still in it; that short, cheerful physicist with her herringbone suit and extended hand; she’d looked like a co-ed. He’d planned to launch her into the stratosphere, had known her game, with her little notes — she’d been a spy but too much of an ingenue to know it, and seven years later he’d slept with the enemy and fallen irreversibly in love with her. Or was it the other way around?

She climbed onto him deliberately, without haste, the camisole she’d slept in pulled off somewhere between his nostalgia and her lips.

“Where are you?” she asked breathily, the dew of her mons coming to rest on his thigh.

“With you,” he said, running a lazy hand up her side, grazing the side of her breast with fingertips. He was always with her, even if she wasn’t around, his internal radar tuned to her frequency like a NOAA buoy pinging in the dark.

She breathed out deeply, her hot breath ruffling the wiry hairs on his chest. A solid third of them were grey now, as were those in his beard, and he liked to think he’d earned them in the field, chasing mutants and monsters, but the bare truth of it was, he’d gotten them while pining for her like Pyramus, held at bay by a wall of his own making. The last few years without her had been tough.

At times he could see that Scully wasn’t yet used to this more thoughtful Mulder, and occasionally braced herself for his abrupt departure, his inevitable decline into a dog on a scent, falling into the habit of sisphysian search. But instead he would stand there, remain quiet and true, and she would ease back into him with her renewed faith.

She reached down and grabbed both his hands, lacing her fingers through his, and then raised his arms up and over his head. Her mouth was even with his and she took sipping kisses at them, the arc of her belly brushing against his torso.

Her curves were rounder now, more carnose than sharp, lending her an air of lushness that made his cock ache. He would take her any way he could get her, but this gravid Scully was of Nanaya, Eostre, Hedone. A fertility sculpture come to life.

She slowly ground her sex into his thigh and he chased her mouth with his own as she pulled back a few teasing inches. He longed to hold her, touch her, but he let her take the lead and slowly, so slowly, she relaxed her grip on his hands and inched down his body, the hard points of her nipples just grazing the skin of his chest as she moved lower and lower.

She shifted until her mouth was hovering over the tent of his boxers, and she flicked her eyes to his and gave him a slow, lascivious grin. He suddenly felt short of breath. She worked her fingers into the waist of his underwear and he tilted up his hips to help her pull them off.

The anticipation of her hot little mouth lowering itself onto his cock was almost more exquisite than the act itself. But then, oh then her tongue was swirling around him and the heat and the slick and the pull of her mouth was, as always, a revelation.

This woman, this woman who would shoot him to save him, who would tell off bosses and brothers and fish him out of the Atlantic. He liked to remind her that she’d been held in contempt of Congress for him, like some 70’s era Post reporter, and she’d mimic driving a snow cat and he would get quiet with the brass-tasting memory of fear. They were foxhole soldiers, brothers-in-arms, each willing to hug the grenade while telling the other to run. Their love was a devotion, a decades-long experiment in tolerance and gravity. It was the only supernatural thing he’d never once doubted.

She hummed happily around the length of him, and Mulder sank boneless into the bed, moving one hand gently into her hair, not pulling or pushing, just needing to touch her. She had one hand cupping the base of him, and her mouth slid over him like a silken sheath. He had never wanted to ask her how she’d honed her blowjob prowess, but she was an artist of the genre, a true master, a Catholic schoolgirl fantasy come to life.

Just in time to save his reputation, she let him slide out of her mouth and crawled back up the length of him, settling tightly into his side, her tongue finding the sensitive spot just behind his ear.

With a low growl he raised himself to his elbows and canted himself on top of her, situating himself between her legs, their child resting between them in the cradle of her hips. He ran a hand along her belly reverently before gliding straight home, eliciting a breathy sigh from her lips.

Her head sunk back into the pillows, the rumpled cotton framing her face which was a mask of carnal harmony, her look one of both pleasure and pain, the sock and buskin of sexual euphoria.

He rocked into her slowly but firmly, the blunt head of his penis bumping into her sensitive cervix at the apex of every thrust. God, how was he to survive this? She was humming under him, rocking her hips forward slightly with his every thrust, her ample breasts bouncing, keeping time.

He thought back to their first sexual encounter, that heady feeling of discovery; shucking off her apple green sweater and uncovering a sex bomb underneath. She’d been wanton, just a season or two past quarter life and thrumming with sexual energy. The pent up longing; seven years of such a desperate love that when they came together, it had been practically atomic.

Now, their bodies knew each other, clicked into place with ease and comfort. No less passion, but more than enough love. He flashed on an old Harry Chapin song: and the years keep on rollin’ by.

He grabbed her leg and pulled it higher and he sunk into her flesh almost more than he could bear, her pregnant flexibility wreaking havoc with his restraint.

He felt more than heard her moan, a quiet rumbling in the base of her throat and he knew that she was close. He pressed his middle finger into her mouth and she sucked it with enthusiasm, and once again he feared he might not be able to hold out long enough for her to come. With a wet pop, he pulled his hand from her mouth and reached in between them, brushing the nub at the top of her sex with his slicked finger. She jolted under him.

“More,” she whispered.

He gave her as much as he could. He always had.

When she came apart beneath him, it was purling, languid, a roll like thunder. He rode out the crest with her and then let himself release, and it felt like every promise he’d ever made to her and a few he hadn’t.

He collapsed next to her, careful to avoid putting weight on their growing child.

“How is it that we just keep getting better at this?” he asked, his face half buried in the covers, his voice muffled.

She smiled at him, a little sweat beading on the top of her lip. The cockcrow light had panned up their bed, and a slant of it shone on her hair like aurora. “Years of practice, I suspect,” she said, her brow arching at him, reflecting a sliver of light. Then her face got a small surprised look, and she reached for him. “Give me your hand,” she said.

She took his hand and pressed it to her belly, and he felt it roll softly under him, like a golf ball under the skin. He felt tears spring to his eyes.

Peace and wonder fell over him in equal measure and they lay there together, not moving as morning turned to afternoon, settling into the horse latitudes of their life.

#xfsmut2020 #x-files #fanfic #smut #soft #msr #my fic #prompt

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javajunkieao3 · 5 years ago

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Steggy Fic: Best Laid Plans

This is a Steggy Secret Santa gift for @falcon-chill - I hope you enjoy!!

Peggy knew all about the engagement ring. She found it one afternoon when she was putting away laundry in their shared apartment. (It was quite the scandal when they moved in without being married, but he was literally a modern man, and what was she, if not, a modern woman?) The ring was predictably in his sock drawer. He at least tried to hide it by stuffing it in a sock, but she happened upon it when she was trying to make room for a few pair of sturdier wool ones. Her hand knocked against something solid and she pulled it out, glancing furtively behind her before removing the box and flipping it open.

The ring was simple, gold with one diamond flanked on either side by smaller ones. It shone brilliantly under the overhead lighting and she almost slipped it on her finger, just to try it out, but she stopped herself and dutifully put it back into the drawer. Every so often, she checked on the ring. But, much like a watched kettle, nothing happened. It stayed stuffed in the back in the same grey herringbone sock.

Until the day that it wasn’t.

She could barely contain her excitement when she and Steve went out for dinner that evening. She chose her nicest dress – a red velvet number that never failed to make her feel glamorous – and just to make sure, she gave him a quick hug before they left, feeling the box deep in the pocket of his suit jacket.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Absolutely, darling.”

They stopped at a gas station before dinner and Steve stepped inside to pay. Peggy stayed behind, but then saw that Steve left his wallet on the seat. She picked it up and headed inside when she saw Steve standing with his arms raised. A man held a gun toward him. Quickly, she darted behind the car, crouching down as she thought through what to do next. It would be foolhardy to run directly toward them. Besides, Steve could handle one man with a gun. She peered over the hood of the car and saw the gunman saying something to Steve. She wondered why Steve didn’t simply take the man out, but then she saw there was a second gunman holding a gun to the gas station attendant’s head. The boy couldn’t have been more than nineteen and was clearly terrified.

One of the gunmen gestured toward Steve with the gun and she watched Steve hesitate before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the ring box. The gunman snatched it, opening the box and then unceremoniously tossing it into a bag at his side.

“Son of a bitch,” Peggy hissed under her breath. If the gunman was going to steal her engagement ring, the least he could do was treat it with some respect.

The gunman approached Steve and kicked his shin hard, making him turn around to tie his hands. She could tell the moment he chose to attack. His shoulders squared and then he drove his elbow back into the gunman’s stomach, reaching back and disarming the gunman. He swung the gun over to the other assailant, but he had already let go of the gas station attendant and grabbed the loot bag, sprinting out of the building.

Unfortunately for him, Peggy was waiting. She grabbed onto him and slammed him onto the hood of her car. When he struggled, she imparted one swift knee to his groin and he crumbled into a whimpering mess, the bag dropped forgotten at his feet. She forced him onto his front and roughly grabbed his arms, pushing him down into the hood of the car to make sure he didn’t move.

“You’re hurting me!” he howled.

“Yes, that’s what happens when you try to steal a woman’s engagement ring.”

Steve walked out of the building with the other gunman subdued, and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Steve’s gunman spit out a mouthful of blood (he had put up more of a fight than his cohort) and said, “Really, Larry? You couldn’t get past a girl?”

“Don’t start with me, Bobby!”

The gas station attendant called the police and within fifteen minutes, the would-be-robbers were taken away in handcuffs. Steve handed the bag of money back to the attendant, but not before plucking out the box.

“Thank you for your help,” the attendant said.

“It was no problem at all,” Steve said, sounding every bit like Captain America as he clapped a hand on the young boy’s shoulder and added, “Take care now.”

Steve walked back to her, pocketing the ring again, and Peggy said, “Do you really think it’s such a good idea to put it back there?”

“Put what?” he said innocently.

“Steve,” she said leadingly. “I know about the ring. If not for the fact it was almost just stolen, I found it in your sock drawer weeks ago.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “You know, for someone with your experience, you should really be better at hiding things.”

He laughed and said, “It seemed like a foolproof plan. Who would actually go looking for an engagement ring in a sock drawer?”

“To my credit, I did not go looking. I came upon it by happenstance.”

He smiled a bit, stuffing both of his hands into his pockets. “Believe it or not, the plan was not to propose to you at a gas station after a failed robbery.”

Peggy stepped closer and said, “I don’t know, a failed robbery sounds pretty right to me.”

She watched quietly as he took the ring out of his pocket and sunk down to one knee. He opened the box and she saw the most perfect ring. One she would most certainly wear for the rest of her life.

“Peggy Carter, I have loved you for over seventy years. There was a time when I thought this moment wasn’t possible. I could not be happier that I was wrong.”

“Me too,” she murmured, already feeling her eyes well with tears.

“Peg, will you marry me?”

She nodded, unable to get the words out, and he slipped the ring on her finger. She held her hand out in front of her as he stood, barely able to contain her excitement before she launched herself at him, holding him tightly. He buried his face in her neck as he lifted her off the ground, murmuring words into her ear that she would never forget.

They were married six months later in a small church in the city. They invited the gas attendant.

#steggy #steggy secret santa #steggy fanfiction #Peggy carter #Steve Rogers

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hovercraft79 · 4 years ago

Text

Magic

Chapters: 1

Word Count: 5,703

Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: general family discord

Summary: Still roiling from Hecate’s entrapment in the mirror, Ada and Hecate cling to one another, thankful for the chance to be together. Just in time. As Agatha’s influence grows within the school, they’re going to need each other more than ever.

Notes: This fic covers the Week 7 prompt ‘confession.’

The title of this week’s fic is from the title of Olivia Newton-John’s song. Yes, that one. The one from Xanadu. The movie I actually own a DVD of. Don’t judge me - seeing it as a child was a very formative experience. For those of you who may be unfamiliar, the movie stars Newton-John as a muse, Michael Beck as an artist in need of inspiration and Gene Kelly as a washed-up musician. And they were all on roller skates. I said don’t judge me.

Once again, this fic is much improved by Sparky’s faithful editing.

No matter how hard she tried to avoid it, wakefulness kept creeping over Hecate. She snuggled deeper into her pillow, which was warm and cozy and… breathing? Hecate’s eyes popped open. She lifted her head and found herself gazing into the serene blue of Ada’s eyes. “Ada?”

“Mmm… Good morning,” Ada smiled warmly down at her. “Afternoon, really.” She traced her fingers softly over Hecate’s cheek, which was now imprinted with the weave of her jumper. “Glad you’re back.”

Hecate leaned into Ada’s touch. “Glad to be back.” She shifted, her shoulder starting to ache – a lasting memento of her time with Mistress Broomhead.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Grunting, Hecate shook her head. “I’m wearing sports clothes… and a splotchy red herringbone pattern on my face.”

“Like I said…” Ada winced as Hecate shifted again.

“I’m sorry… I should mo—”

Ada covered Hecate’s lips with her finger. “When you were trapped in the mirror, I had this moment… You were gone and it was all so real… you might stay gone forever. That made me realize… well, that I’ve been a foolish old woman.” She traced Hecate’s eyebrow and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve found someone to love and, for reasons I can’t comprehend, she loves me back. How could I let some responsibility I never chose get in the way of that?” She lifted her chin. “I can’t. Not anymore. So… if you want to budge up because you’re uncomfortable, then do so. But if the only reason you’re moving is because you think I want you to, I can assure you I’d prefer you stay exactly where you are.”

Eyes shining with tears, Hecate nodded before burying herself in Ada’s arms. Sighing, she let herself melt against Ada, warmth flowing through her as she felt Ada press a soft kiss against the top of her head.

The noise from the Dining Hall spilled into the hallway despite the closed doors. Hecate paused for a moment to listen. Normally, the cacophony of nearly one hundred teenaged girls was enough to set her nerves jangling. Not now. Now the boisterous noisiness provided its own sort of comfort – a reminder that she was where she was meant to be. Even though she’d been trapped in the mirror little more than a day, the differences still haunted her. One of those differences had been the girls. As Ada always said, happy girls are noisy girls. The girls in the mirror had been eerily quiet.

Shaking herself back into the present, Hecate pushed through the doors. She’d spent most of the walk to the Dining Hall steeling herself for another meal stuck between Geraldine Gullet and Gwen Bat. At least Gwen could carry on an intelligent conversation – in a voice that didn’t sound like she was scraping a burned potion out of the bottom of a cauldron with a metal spoon.

She scanned the teachers’ table, stopping short when she realized that only one of the Cackle twins was present. Ada, she guessed, since she was seated at the end of the table.

“Care to join me?” Ada asked, suddenly at her elbow.

Once she’d managed to swallow her heart back down into her chest, Hecate nodded. She followed Ada to the table, eyes moving back and forth between her and her sister. She’d overlooked Agatha’s lack of glasses, simply assuming because she was in Ada’s usual chair that she must be Ada.

When they arrived at the table, Geraldine pulled out the chair between her own and Agatha’s. “Here you go, Miss Cackle, we’ve saved a spot just for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Gullet, but I’ll take a spot down here. I have a few things to discuss with Miss Hardbroom.” Ada sat down and patted the chair beside her.

Hecate gingerly lowered herself into the chair, feeling a bit more like the world was as it should be.

-----

Geraldine groaned for the third time in as many minutes from the chair in front of Hecate. Rolling her eyes, Hecate checked the time on her watch again. The weekly staff meeting should have started ten minutes ago. It wasn’t like Ada to be late. On the contrary, she preferred arriving early to take advantage of the weekly order of pastries and all the latest gossip.

Finally, Agatha stepped to the front of the staff lounge and began the morning’s agenda. “We have a few items to go over. First, as you all know, every four years the Magic Council sponsors the Witchcathalon competition. Magical schools from across Britain compete for the honor of representing Britain in the international finals. Now, after a disappointing finish four years ago, my sister and I are determined to see Cackle’s reclaim its status as champion. Please develop your action plans to improve our performance and have those ready by meeting-time next week.”

Hecate struggled to focus as Agatha droned on about inconsequential things, snapping back to attention when she started discussing their latest OfWitch inspection results. Surely they should have waited for Ada to deliver that information. “As expected, Cackle’s Academy scored well.” She let the pleased twitter spread through the room before allowing it to subside. “However, my sister and I are disappointed to say that the score wasn’t perfect in most areas.” Agatha summoned a short stack of papers and floated them out to the teachers. “As you can see, our greatest area of weakness is Health and Safety. Only one teacher scored a perfect one hundred percent. Let’s all give Miss Gullet a round of applause.”

An anemic smattering of applause dribbled in, petering out quickly. Geraldine’s gloating smile faded into a pout.

“Since we have such an exemplar of Health and Safety with us,” Agatha carried on, “We’ve assigned Miss Gullet to conduct regular inspections of the different areas so that she may offer her expertise to any of our teachers who might need it.” This caused Geraldine to resume gloating like a puffed-up toad.

“Well done, Miss Gullet,” Ada said as she entered the staff room at last. She nodded at Agatha. “Please, do continue.”

“We’ve just finished. Dismissed, all. Don’t forget your action plans for next week.”

Her crumpled report in her hand, Hecate snatched up the rest of her things so she could leave, but Ada signaled her to stay.

Ada approached her sister, hands clasped tightly behind her back. “Sister, didn’t you tell me I was to expect a mirror call from the Great Witch at nine o’clock? I was meant to call her at eight o’clock.”

“Oh…” Agatha blinked innocently at her sister. “Did I get that wrong? Oh, dear. I suppose that’s how it goes as we age, forgetfulness you know. After all, you’re older than I am.” She grinned at Ada. “Well, no harm done, I’m sure. Have a good day, sister. I’ll see you for our portrait sitting this afternoon.”

Ada started to respond but snapped her mouth closed so quickly that Hecate could hear her teeth clicking together. She took a deep breath before facing Hecate. “What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing the anger radiating off Hecate.

“This is what’s wrong.” Hecate sent the report floating into Ada’s hands, unwrinkling it as it went.

Plucking the paper from the air, Ada scanned through it. “I assume the issue is your ninety-seven percent in Health and Safety?” Ada cocked her head. “Ninety-seven is a perfectly good score, Hecate. I know you’d prefer to make full marks, but—”

“I should have made full marks, Ada. I was docked three percent because the inspector found an unsanitary terrarium of Mus musculus on my desk.”

“Mice? I’m sure it was just an oversight or something—”

“My students were practicing the identification of crow’s feathers compared to raven’s feathers and their inherent properties. Miss Gullet’s Spell Science classes, however, were working on holding spells. May I remind you what creature is considered best practice for use in teaching a holding spell?”

“I’m well aware that it’s mice, Hecate. I’m sure there’s a perfectly innocent explanation for it.”

Hecate simply raised an eyebrow. For a moment, neither woman would back down. Then Ada vanished the report and sighed again.

“Fine. I’ll concede that innocent is not an adjective typically used to describe Miss Gullet.”

“I should say not,” Hecate agreed, drily.

“Will you come to the portrait sitting this afternoon? Once your classes are over?” Ada’s hopeful tone was hard to miss.

“Hmmm… watching you and your sister sit for a portrait… that sounds quite as exciting as watching toadspawn dry.”

“That’s a yes, then?”

Hecate waggled her head back and forth as she pretended to think it over. “Of course.”

-----

Sitting for a portrait. Hecate snorted. That was certainly false packaging, she thought. The session had started late, thanks to the twins bickering over what to wear. Hecate had quickly turned her attention to studying the Ostium Alternis as they kept at their squabble. They’d finally compromised on dress blouses and skirts, neither of them happy with the choice, but Agatha particularly dissatisfied. She’d fussed and fidgeted the entire afternoon, irritating everyone involved. Of course, there was a price to be paid for that, Hecate thought, smirking every time she looked at the portrait. Ada, seated, looked lovely and kind in her red dress. Agatha, on the other hand, stood looming and dour in her dark blue dress. Hecate hoped she would be present when Agatha finally saw her likeness, though she sympathized with Ada for the tantrum she would have to endure.

As expected, Agatha’s first glimpse of the portrait provoked another disagreement. Hecate was pleased to say Ada more than held her own, finally sending Agatha retreating with scathing last words: “Perhaps you’ll learn not to act like the arse end of a troll with the artist painting your portrait!” A chortling Hecate had been forced to dematerialize for several long minutes after that, buzzing ears be damned.

“I’ll pay for it for weeks, you know,” Ada said with a grim sort of humor. “No doubt she’s brewing up some sort of revenge even as we speak.” She handed Hecate a cup of tea and a biscuit. Ada waved her cup at what was left of the mirror – a few shards stuck in a broken frame. Pulling Hecate free had caused it to shatter. “You’ve been studying that for hours now. Any brilliant epiphanies?”

“I’m afraid not.” She glanced at Ada. “I know I was in there for scarcely more than a day, but… I keep dreaming about it. I… I know that this is my life, the one I’m meant to live, but…”

“It’s no small thing to be given a glimpse into what might have been,” Ada soothed. “When mother said things on the other side would be different… well, I must confess that I worried that you would choose to stay.” The white-knuckle grip on her teacup belied the calmness in her voice. “Freedom is no small thing to give up. Plus, you still had Pippa, Indigo was alive and well… I hardly know why you’d come back.”

“Freedom for me, perhaps, but at what cost? Pippa’s freedom? That’s quite the devil’s bargain. And yes, Indigo seemed happy enough, but a whole school of other children was miserable.” Hecate set her teacup aside and threaded her arm through Ada’s. “Most importantly, you were not you. The Ada in that world was a cruel, vindictive harridan. I wanted my Ada back.” Stepping in front of Ada, Hecate cupped her cheek. “You are more than enough to bring me back, Ada Cackle. Whatever that other life may have promised, it didn’t have you. You are my first choice.” Her lips trembled into a smile, and she brushed an errant tear from Ada’s cheek with her thumb.

Ada could feel her cheeks heating. “And you mine.” They stood together, enjoying the feeling of just being, knowing they shared the same feelings. After a moment, Ada cleared her throat and pointed at the mirror’s remains. “It still doesn’t explain this, does it? I can’t imagine any of our girls getting into something like this, but it seems even more farfetched that anyone else would try to harm one of the girls.”

Turning back to the frame, Hecate tilted her head, lips pressed in a thin line. At her sides, her thumbs rubbed furiously across her fingertips. “I don’t think it was meant for one of the girls.” Ada’s eyes flew open wide. “Veronica said it wasn’t there when she hid in the alcove the first time. That was already after curfew. If someone meant to harm one of the students, why place the mirror after they were all meant to be in their rooms? Why not place it there earlier in the evening?”

“It certainly seems likelier that it would be meant for an adult, but still… one of the teachers?” Ada staggered backwards, landing heavily on the sofa. “Then… you’re saying it was meant for you? You were doing rounds that night!”

Hecate chewed at her bottom lip, hesitant. “But I wasn’t supposed to be, remember?”

Ada’s eyes roamed the room as she thought about it. Dropping her head in her hands, Ada groaned, low and mournful. “It was Thursday. My night. I was so worried… I just… I don’t think it even occurred to me. You’re scheduled to do rounds on Wednesday.”

“That’s right. Indigo’s… anniversary had fallen on the previous Wednesday. You’d offered to trade so I could have the evening free after my appointment with Miss Hagsmet.”

“But you already had a detention scheduled for that Thursday, so you took the next.” Her face puckered as she processed the implications of that. “Who would want to do that to me?” Ada’s expression hardened as Hecate said nothing. “It wasn’t Agatha.”

“I didn’t say that it was.”

“But you think it could be,” Ada pressed.

“It could be almost anyone,” Hecate conceded. “It could even be nothing more than a student prank that got out of hand. The only thing I know with absolute certainty is that I didn’t place that mirror in the hallway and neither did you.” She chuckled softly. “I’m also fairly confident it wasn’t Gwen Bat.”

Ada tried to picture Gwen laying out a trap with an enchanted mirror. The image brought a rueful smile of her own. “I would tend to agree.” She pushed herself up on unsteady legs. “I’m going to send out a directive to all the staff – no one is to do rounds alone until further notice. We need to find out what it takes to create an Ostium Alternis.”

“I’ll start researching straight away.”

-----

Hecate squeezed her eyes closed, trying to work up enough tears to quench the burning in her eyes. She’d spent almost all day in the library, researching the Ostium in the restricted section. Miss Inkwell had announced to the handful of students present that the library would soon be closing for the evening. Snapping her book closed, Hecate floated it back to its place on the shelf.

Few books had mentioned an Ostium Alternis Vitae. None explained how to create one. The book in Ada’s office had been the only one with the spell for rescuing someone trapped in one. Hecate rolled her shoulder, trying to loosen it up after a day of little use.

A soft tapping caused her to open her eyes. “Miss Inkwell, apologies… I was just…”

“Thinking? Sleeping? Passed out from lack of food? You’ve been in here all day.” She waved a pair of dawdling girls along. “I take it you haven’t had any luck finding whatever it is that’s kept you in that chair all day.”

“Let’s say thinking, shall we?” Sniffing deeply, Hecate sent her notes back to her rooms. Whispering in a back corner caught her attention. “Depart, girls! Curfew begins in ten minutes!” She called in her most Miss Hardbroom-y voice.

“You know… as the librarian, you could let me help you find whatever it is you’re looking for.” She leaned closer. “Rumor has it there’s been a magic mirror floating about.”

Hecate felt her stomach drop. While what had happened could hardly have been kept secret with Veronica Catsear’s involvement, she and Ada had hoped that tales of her mishap wouldn’t spread through the castle with quite the speed of balefire. “Thank you, but… it’s a bit of a personal matter.”

“Bats. Just when I was hoping to find out who’s the fairest of them all.” Miss Inkwell sighed dramatically before magicking out the table lamps. “Suit yourself, just remember – all you have to do is ask. I can assure you of my discretion. It’s why I’m here. Librarians don’t search and tell, you know.”

Hecate choked on her own saliva. She’d heard that phrase before. In another library that wasn’t quite this one, from another librarian that wasn’t quite Miss Inkwell. Faint memories of a small envelope flickered into her mind. “Th-thank you,” she stammered, already rushing for the door. She was halfway to the corridor before it occurred to her to transfer.

Scrabbling to keep her feet after her sloppy landing, Hecate flung open the door of her clothes cupboard. She rifled through her clothes, missing it twice before she found the sports uniform she’d been wearing when Ada pulled her back into this reality. She fumbled in the pockets until her fingers closed around an envelope. “It’s real,” she breathed. Part of her had feared she’d imagined it. With trembling fingers, she opened it and pulled out Miss Inkwell’s results. She scanned through it before reading it through more carefully. She’d done it. The other Miss Inkwell had found out how to undo the marriage scroll. She needed to take the note to Ada straight away.

Didn’t she?

Hecate leaned against the cupboard with one hand, studying the note she held with the other. The elation she expected to feel hadn’t materialized. Instead, a new strain of anxiety twisted in her belly. They wanted this, didn’t they? Even though it was made of paper, the note weighed like a stone in her hand.

Breaking the marriage scroll is a beginning, not an ending, she told herself. Again and again. Hecate pushed herself upright. She convinced herself that it didn’t matter. Ada needed to know that they could be released from one another. She slipped the paper back into the envelope before tucking it up her sleeve and spelling it into place for safekeeping.

Hecate transferred to the hallway just outside Ada’s office. As she lifted her hand to knock, she heard raised voices coming from inside. Lowering her hand, unsure of whether to knock or go away, Hecate wound up listening to the row – a rambling brawl that covered everything from childhood disagreements, pedagogy, the color of Ada’s hair… Hecate could hardly follow the train of it.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of glass crashing against stone, then silence. Jerking away from the door, she transferred around the corner just as Agatha stormed out. She’d barely rematerialized when Agatha slammed into her.

“Get out of the way!” Agatha rammed Hecate’s bad shoulder as she passed, spinning her around.

Hecate stumbled against the wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. Bent at the waist, hands on her knees, she sucked in air, trying to catch her breath.

Gentle hands stroked her back. “She shouldn’t have done that… I’m sorry you’ve had to bear the brunt of our argument.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Hecate gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I was eavesdropping outside the door.” She took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out. Wincing as she straightened, Hecate rolled her shoulder, vainly trying to ease the ache.

“I thought I felt your magic nearby.” She wrapped a steadying arm around Hecate, resting her hand on her hip. “I could do with… well… I rather think I could do with a glass of wine. Care to join me?” Hecate nodded and allowed Ada to lead her into the office.

Once they were inside, Ada set her protective wards. She didn’t care for any more disturbances tonight – she certainly didn’t want to hear anything more from her sister. She magicked another log onto the fire and a bottle of wine on the coffee table. Hecate stepped forward, but Ada held her back.

“Let me.” Ada warmed her hands with a tiny trickle of magic and placed them on Hecate’s shoulder. She let the heat soak in for a moment before rubbing light circles with her thumbs. Hecate stiffened for a moment but didn’t move away. Bit by bit, Ada increased the pressure, pleased when Hecate’s rigid posture eased. She shifted her hands down, massaging the muscles just below her shoulder blade. A satisfied grin spread across Ada’s face as she felt Hecate relax beneath her fingers. “Does this help?”

“Not really,” Hecate admitted, “but it feels delightful while you’re doing it.”

“Good enough for me,” Ada said, chuckling. She pictured the pattern of pale scars that ran down Hecate’s shoulder, tracing where she thought they went with her hands. Someday she wouldn’t have to rely on the memories of one brief glance she’d had of the injury when Hecate was in the infirmary. Someday, she’d be able to run her fingers across Hecate’s bare skin. “You know… any time you want one of these, all you have to do is ask. I’m more than willing.”

Hecate reached up and placed her hand over Ada’s. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Turning her head, she pressed the back of Ada’s hand to her cheek. Since she’d returned, Ada seemed to have come to terms with her role as Sealkeeper. Hesitant touches and warm words had become almost routine, though neither had worked up the nerve to share that first kiss. Hecate’s chest warmed at the memory of a late-night walk on the roof, ostensibly to check the wards, when Ada’s hand had slipped into hers, their fingers lacing together.

The note up her sleeve practically burned against her skin. Ada deserved to know that they could end their marriage. Fake marriage, she reminded herself. But now didn’t seem the right time. Ada was obviously still rattled by her argument with Agatha. Moreover, Hecate knew the massage was soothing Ada’s jangled nerves as much as it was her shoulder -not that she would complain about why she was getting a massage. Later, she said to herself. I’ll tell Ada later. To Ada she said, “How about we have that glass of wine?

-----

Even from her spot in the back, Hecate could see the strain Ada carried as she conducted the weekly staff meeting. A glance at the table, still piled high with sweets, told her Ada wasn’t the only one feeling anxious. Typically, the weekly treats, from Cosie’s Old Mill Tea Rooms in the village, were devoured before the meeting ever started. Today, it seemed that no one had much of an appetite. A week of Geraldine Gullet, prowling the castle with her clipboard in hand, had left everyone frazzled and annoyed. After her second ‘inspection,’ Hecate had banned Geraldine from the potions lab. Tamping down her irritation, Hecate refocused her attention on Ada.

“I just know that this year will be Cackle’s year in the Witchtathlon compe—” Ada stopped when Agatha loudly cleared her throat. A dimple that only appeared when Ada was particularly annoyed showed clearly at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, Agatha?”

“I noted that both Miss Gullet and Miss Hardbroom have listed Penny Pestle on their teams. The rules state that a girl may compete in only one event. She’ll have to be dropped from either the potions or the spells competition.”

Hecate narrowed her eyes. “Miss Pestle won first prize in her Second-Year potions project – as did each girl on my team during her second year.”

Geraldine twisted around in her seat. “Well I’m bloody well not giving her up! She’s the best Spell Science student in her form! You can just pick some other girl to lose in potions.”

“Ladies!” Ada raised her hands, signaling both women to stop. Geraldine huffed and turned back to the front while Hecate glowered daggers at the back of her head. “We’ll sort it – after I’ve spoken with Penny myself.” With a few last details about upcoming events for the week, Ada dismissed them. She stepped into the hallway to wish each one a good day as they left, stepping back in as soon as she realized Geraldine and Hecate had not left the staff room.

“I tell you, you aren’t gettin’ her!” Geraldine insisted, her voice even more nasally than usual. “Just because I’m not going around trying to get my way by cozying up to the Headmistress…”

“I beg your pardon!” Hecate drew herself up to her full height. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Miss Gullet, but my personal life is none of your business. I’ll have you know—” She cut herself off as Ada stepped between them.

“I believe Spell Science with the First-Years is starting, is it not?” Ada asked, her voice treacly sweet. “Let’s dive back into this cauldron later. In my office.”

“It’s not bloody fair!” Geraldine spat as she stalked out of the room.

Ada turned back to Hecate just in time to see her transfer away. She blew out a gust of air, irritated with Agatha, with Geraldine, with herself… She hadn’t been so foolish as to think that her relationship with Hecate would go unnoticed, though she’d hoped they would have time to find their footing before it was fodder for the gossip mill. We haven’t even kissed yet, Ada groused. They shouldn’t have to deal with this nonsense this early. Shaking her head, Ada went in search of Penny Pestle.

As expected, when Ada pulled the girl from Witchory, Miss Pestle wanted to compete in potions. Miss Gullet would no doubt snap a broomstick. A prickle of a headache started at the base of Ada’s skull just from thinking about Geraldine’s screeching voice.

Lunch came and went with no sign of Hecate. Ada took the opportunity to tell Geraldine that Penny wanted to compete in potions. She tried to offer some alternatives, but Geraldine would hear none of it, moving to an empty seat on the other side of Agatha. Ada tried to ignore their dramatics and focus on her food, but she couldn’t stop casting furtive glances down the table. She didn’t manage anything more than pushing her peas around her plate. She gave that up when Agatha slid into the chair next to her.

“I must say, Ada, Miss Gullet is rather displeased. I do hope you aren’t showing Miss Hardbroom any… special privileges.”

Running her tongue along the inside of her cheek, Ada inhaled a long breath. “I spoke with Miss Pestle, Agatha. Miss Gullet never asked her to compete in spells; she simply put her down. The girl wants to compete in potions. She’s already begun practicing with the other girls on the team. It has nothing to do with Miss Hardbroom.”

Agatha faked a smile. “That’s good to hear, sister. I’m sure you can see how one might… wonder. Especially if Hecate gets the girl for her team…”

“The girl she actually asked to be on her team.”

“Miss Hardbroom is getting all those expensive new cauldrons while the rest of us are told to tighten our belts,” Agatha added.

“Mother authorized that expenditure last year, as you well know.”

“As you say,” Agatha quickly raised her hands to ward off any protest. “But even you must admit it looks… inappropriate. It certainly makes one wonder what her… motivations might be. A young, attractive thing like her?” Agatha made a point of looking Ada up and down, lingering on her midsection. “I mean, I can see why you’d want to show her special attention, but her? Well… they do say love is blind.” She slapped the table. “I’ll let you get back to your lunch.”

Ada watched her sister leave, taking what was left of her appetite with her. Perhaps Hecate had the right idea when she chose to skip lunch. She forced herself to make small talk with Miss Swoop before taking her leave. Her mood was already ruined. She may as well work on the monthly expense reports.

One by one, the First-Year girls filed out of the potions lab, still giggling from the effects of their laughter potion. Ada idly wondered if a nip of the leftovers would improve her day. When it seemed the last girl had exited, she stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind her. “Are you avoiding everyone today? Or just me?”

Hecate glanced up at her before continuing to clean up after her class – by hand, a sure sign that the day had gone widdershins for her, too. “Everyone but you,” she said, finally. She folded her hand towel into precise quarters before placing it carefully on her workbench. “I tried to speak with Miss Pestle this morning…”

Ada stepped further into the lab. “Yes, she said she wishes to stay on the potions team.”

“Did she?” Hecate tapped her fingers against the casing of her pocket watch. “I didn’t have the opportunity to speak to her directly.” She cut her eyes to the floor and didn’t look up again. “When I arrived at the classroom, I overheard her discussing the matter with Mavis Spellbody. Before I could announce my presence, I heard young Miss Spellbody tell her that she needn’t worry about anything because – and I quote – ‘Miss Cackle is sweet on Miss Hardbroom so she won’t take you off her team.’”

Hecate was still staring at the floor. Ada stepped closer, close enough to gently lift Hecate’s chin. “She’s not entirely wrong you know. I am a bit sweet on you.”

“It’s not funny, Ada. The students are speculating about… about our… love life.” Hecate’s cheeks burned in embarrassment. “We don’t even… we haven’t even…”

Ada cupped her cheek before letting her fingers trail down Hecate’s arm and tangle with hers. “It’s all right, dear. All in due time.”

Her hand felt warm in Ada’s. “Perhaps I’m overreacting. We’ve never said we’d keep this…” she shook their joined hands back and forth, “a secret. I just can’t stand the thought of being the subject of staff room gossip. What must people say?”

“I don’t want to keep it a secret either. We’ve done nothing wrong. We’re doing nothing wrong. Not that I’m looking to get snogged in the middle of the Dining Room, but…” That, at least, got a weak smile. “As for what they might say… I can tell you what Agatha said. She said the only reason an attractive young woman such as yourself would be with a relic like me is either because you’re using me or I’m using you.”

“That’s not so different from what Geraldine said to me this morning.” Hecate pulled away. She didn’t know if now was the right time, or if there would ever be a right time, but she didn’t feel right about keeping her secret from Ada any longer. “I’m afraid I have a bit of a confession to make…” She pulled the envelope from its place in her sleeve. “When I was in the mirror, I asked that Miss Inkwell to help me find a way to break the marriage scroll. Everything was so topsy-turvy.” Hecate looked up at her and shrugged. “She found it.”

Ada took the envelope from Hecate’s outstretched hand and tucked it into her pocket without reading it. “You’ve had it all this time?”

Hecate nodded. “I should have told you straight away… but we always seemed to be in the middle of something. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes, waiting for Ada’s anger, or worse, her disappointment, to hit. It didn’t.

“I suppose things have been… topsy-turvy.” Fighting down an unexpected feeling of disappointment, Ada took up Hecate’s hand again. “Well, I for one say ‘good riddance’ to that scroll. I don’t want our future to be forced on us, Hecate. As much as I want us… I want any joining to be our choice.

“And as for Miss Gullet,” Ada sighed, “I heard what she said.” She took Hecate’s other hand in hers. “They aren’t what matters, Hecate. You are. We are. Agatha is just… being Agatha. And ten years from now, Geraldine Gullet will have moved on and you’ll still be here.”

Hecate pulled abruptly away. Turning her back to Ada, she hugged herself and staggered a few steps towards the door. “It still all comes down to that, doesn’t it?” Her voice broke. “It’s always going to be hanging over our heads.”

“What are you…” Ada could feel the blood draining from her face into her gut when she realized what Hecate meant. “NO! I’m not talking about that. Hecate…” Hurrying to her, Ada wrapped her arms around Hecate from behind. “I only meant that we will still be together, my dear. I hadn’t even thought about your confinement.” She felt Hecate relax against her, just a little.

“What does it even matter? In fifty years, everyone will be gone, and I’ll… I’ll still be here.” She twisted in Ada’s arms, wrapping her own arms around Ada’s waist and crying into her hair. “I don’t even think this cursed confinement will let them remove my corpse when I die. I can’t even be buried in the Hardbroom family plot.”

Ada rocked her gently back and forth, cradling the back of her head with one hand whilst rubbing soothing circles on her back with the other. “Sshhh… that’s a long ride down the river, dear. Who knows what could happen between now and then?” Ada pulled back just enough to see Hecate’s eyes. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I hope that when the time comes, that you’ll be with me in the Cackle family plot. With your family.”

Hecate buried her face again and sobbed even harder. Ada kept rocking her. “You can’t… mean that,” she managed to choke out.

“I’ve never meant anything more, Hecate. You’re my first choice. You’ll always be my first choice.”

#hackle summer trope challenge #hackle #hecate hardbroom #ada cackle

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tsthrace · 5 years ago

Text

White Knuckles

Awhile back, I asked y’all to send me a song so I could take its energy, lyrics, and/or feeling and write you a 1,000-word Clexa fic.

This one shot meandered way beyond 1,000 words. It’s based on White Knuckles by Tegan and Sara, as requested by @damiana-atx.

Angsty academia AU. No content warnings except for some swearing.

You can also find it on ao3.

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

“Fuck, this is good,” Clarke said aloud to no one as she tossed the journal on the table. She leaned back in her chair. Godlessness Centered: Negotiating Queerness in The Left Hand of Darkness by Alexandria J. Woods, PhD. When Clarke had first picked up the journal, she scoffed. The Left Hand of Darkness? Really? And queerness? How overdone.

But it was brilliant. A discourse on Le Guin’s own spirituality and how it defied casual dualities.

I should have thought of that.

She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes.

---

Lexa smoothed the lapels on her blazer, though they were already perfectly flat. She gazed at herself in the hotel mirror, staring at the buttons on her shirt. She had a choice to make—the choice of the one awkward button. Button it, and she would seem, well, buttoned-up, uptight. But unbuttoned, it was a bit...revealing. There was no middle ground.

She pushed her glasses up on her nose and took a breath. Then buttoned the button.

---

They met in Bloomington, Indiana. All the sci fi literature conferences seemed to be in random small cities in the Midwest. They were strange events. Mostly men in khaki and tweed carrying beat-up leather satchels, experts on Vonnegut and Wells (H.G., that is). But there was also the overt geek element. Undergrad boys carrying frayed copies of Asimov and Gaiman, their laptops covered in Star Trek and My Little Pony stickers, and the occasional girl wearing a Strong Female Character t-shirt.

Then there was Lexa, sharp in a plain black cashmere sweater and grey herringbone slacks, her glasses suggesting both intelligence and the ability to break you. The geeks followed her but kept an admiring distance.

Clarke, for some reason, seemed more approachable. As she sipped her gin and tonic at the hotel bar, the kids (as she called college students) would creep up to her, their eyes down.

“Dr. Griffin?” they’d ask.

“Call me Clarke,” she’d say, smiling.

“I just had some questions on your takedown of the Darkover series.”

Clarke would always give them about twenty minutes then politely end the conversation, turning back to her drink.

She had had three such conversations when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Clarke didn’t mind the attention, but she was getting tired. She spun around, ready to dismiss herself.

“Dr. Griffin.” Lexa stood above her.

“Dr. Woods,” Clarke replied, nodding politely. She had read all of Lexa’s work. She had to. They were two of the only feminist sci fi lit scholars who were regularly publishing. But they’d never actually met.

“I don’t really prefer the term ‘doctor.’” Lexa said, looking just past Clarke. “It’s a little....” She didn’t finish her thought. After a moment she tilted her head. “Do you really think we should stop reading Bradley because of her scandal?”

Clarke put her drink down. “Scandal is kind of an understatement. And I didn’t say we should stop. I just said it’s hard.”

Without invitation, Lexa sat down at Clarke’s table. “If we bring every artist’s personal life into how we engage with their work, we probably won’t be able to enjoy anything.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “I never took you for a modernist.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That sometimes shitty people create amazing art.” Lexa’s eyes lit up with her smile, like she was issuing a friendly challenge.

“Are you flirting with me?” Clarke returned her version of the same smile.

Lexa sat back and shrugged. She took a sip of her martini.

---

A few hours later, Clarke was sprawled across Lexa’s bed looking up, her hair in tangles across the pillow, a corner of the sheet pulled over her midsection. Lexa was curled up next to her, sweaty and wondering what just happened. She took a few breaths, looking for words. She squinted to herself, couldn’t think of anything to say. She felt Clarke shuffle a bit and prepared for the awkward banter that would come when they’d get up to look for their clothes.

“Do you believe in God?” Clarke asked instead. She didn’t get up.

“Pardon?”

“Do you believe in God?” Her tone was so casual.

“I...I don’t know.” Lexa looked up at the ceiling. She suddenly felt cold and reached down for a blanket. “Why do you ask?”

“I think I do,” Clarke said, not answering the question.

“Why?”

“I just look around this world, and it seems pretty incredible to me. Like it wasn’t an accident. Someone had to have created all this. Created us. Then made us creators.” Clarke shook her head and looked past Lexa. “It all seems like such a miracle.”

“Are you a Christian?” Lexa felt her face crumple.

Clarke laughed. “I don’t know. I do like the idea of the trinity.”

“When I grew up, my parents took me to one of those born again churches.” Lexa looked down. “It was mostly Jesus. I mean, I know what the trinity is, but…” Why was she telling her this?

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Clarke shook her head. “Not like God as some guy who makes you love him or else you burn in hell. That’s bullshit.”

Lexa squinted.

“The trinity. It’s like a dance between these three ways God reveals herself.” Clarke smiled. “It’s beautiful actually.” She looked at Lexa. “Did you ever read A Wrinkle in Time?”

Lexa side-eyed her. “Clarke, I’m a sci fi scholar.”

“Okay, so there’s Mrs. Who, Mrs. Whatsit, and Mrs. Which…”

They stayed up the rest of the night, moving from L’Engle to Shelley to Jemisin and the spiritual worlds of their stories. Evil and suffering, goodness and hope. Retribution, sacrifice, and justice. Beauty and joy. Mouth to neck, hands to curves, skin to skin.

By dawn, Lexa had found God.

---

Lexa went back to UC Irvine and Clarke returned to her adjunct job at Georgetown, but they emailed constantly. Long, meandering messages about particular chapters of The Stone Sky and Spinning Silver. Clarke sent her Marilynne Robinson essays, and Lexa responded with questions. Together, they laid theologies over imagined worlds, mapped them out and connected them to other imagined worlds. They took down Ender’s Game, built up The Hainish Cycle, and even let themselves dabble in Stardust, which they both had to admit they secretly admired. Back and forth, tens of thousands of words over the course of months. They only talked on the phone a few times, but the emails were constant.

Not long into their messages, Clarke had mentioned how her father had died when she was young. Lexa hinted at being on her own at age 16. These details were wrapped in blankets of analysis and metaphor, the theological undercurrents of the imagined worlds they studied, the anthropology of beings who only existed on pages and in minds.

They made plans to meet in Cleveland to present together at a lit crit conference. A week before, Lexa bailed. “Sorry,” the text said. “An emergency came up.”

“Everything okay?” Clarke responded.

Nothing.

The conference was rough. Clarke knew it would be, but she thought she’d have Lexa’s powerful presence demanding attention. The lit crit crowd all secretly loved what they called “genre” fiction—sci fi and fantasy—but they publicly derided it as “unserious” or “not literary.” She held her own, but it wasn’t fun.

She texted Lexa when she got back to her hotel room. “Wish you had been here. Same straight white male bullshit as usual.”

Silence.

“Did I say something wrong?” Clarke texted a few days later. At that point, though, she knew Lexa was gone.

A heaviness set in on her. Clarke reread their messages looking for hints, but Lexa’s words seemed wide open, even joyful. What happened?

She immersed herself in a chapter she was writing for a textbook on book fandoms and lecturing on feminism and postmodernism in Harry Potter—not her favorite topic, but it was a popular course. She had almost let herself forget about Lexa when, six months later, she was flipping through Foundation: The Journal of Science Fiction and saw her byline in the table of contents. Justice & Joy: The God Revealed in the Feminist Imagination. By Alexandria J. Woods, PhD.

Clarke turned to page 137 and ran her eyes down the columns. She bit her lip. The essay was essentially a catalog of their emails, one idea bridged skillfully to another by Lexa’s pointed and lucid prose. But they weren’t just Lexa’s ideas. They weren’t just Clarke’s, either, but a stream of their thoughts flowing together like a river. It was beautifully done.

Clarke didn’t notice that her hands were balled into fists until she felt her nails cutting into the skin. She opened her laptop and pulled up the messages. Lexa had been careful to rephrase Clarke’s words, but it was all there, even with citations of Marilynne Robinson. The Death of Adam.

Clarke pounded out an email. How dare you...couldn’t even ask for me to be a coauthor...you hadn’t even thought about these things until you met me. She knew Lexa wouldn’t see it. She probably had blocked her address. She didn’t bother hitting send.

Her face fell into her hands. She remembered that night in San Diego. Lexa’s smile—that curiosity despite herself. The way her hands traced the skin over Clarke’s side.

That woman wouldn’t have done this. But there it was. Twenty-six pages of shared conversation now claimed for Lexa only.

---

Clarke’s department was buzzing about it the next day. The religious studies chair was also a huge geek who kept up with Foundation, and he had been blown away by how seamlessly interdisciplinary the article was. “I hadn’t thought to connect the Christian trinity and A Wrinkle in Time, but it’s really so obvious when you think about it.”

Clarke seethed. She thought about printing up the emails, sending them to Foundation and the UC Irvine Disciplinary Committee, but something stopped her. Allegations of plagiarism would ruin Lexa’s career as a scholar. And was it really plagiarism? Clarke wanted to be sure, but she wasn’t.

So she wrote instead. A deep and cutting rebuttal highlighting where Alexandria J. Woods’ religious arguments were rudimentary at best, illustrating how shallow her connections were, and then plunging further, mining Catherine Keller and other theologians for an even deeper exploration of the worlds of Butler and Clarke (Arthur C., that is). Foundation published her essay the next quarter. Lexa answered, bringing in Buddhism and Humanism. A spotlight grew around their debate, so they continued writing—back and forth between literary, cultural, and religious journals. WIRED magazine picked up the story: Feuding Feminists Shifting the Sci Fi Landscape.

That’s when the invites started rolling in. A conference on spirituality and pop culture invited them to speak on a panel together, but Clarke refused. She couldn’t bear to see Lexa in person. Instead, she accepted an invitation to lecture at NYU while Lexa spoke at Cal.

Clarke’s classes filled with long waitlists every semester, her success intertwined with Lexa’s and their endless intellectual feud. They both thrived. Lexa’s ideas sharpened Clarke’s, and Clarke’s sharpened Lexa’s. She couldn’t admit it, but she needed Lexa as much as she despised her.

---

Lexa was in her office when the call came.

“Dr. Woods?” A male voice.

“It’s Professor Woods.”

“Excuse me, Professor Woods,” he corrected himself. “This is Dr. William Porter at Georgetown. The chair of the Department of English.”

Lexa felt something jump in her chest. “Good morning.”

“I’m calling because a very generous donor has recently endowed a tenure-track professorship here specifically for women in science fiction studies.”

“You’re kidding me.” it felt like a prank, and a mean one at that. Lexa had never heard of such a thing.

“Uh, no.” Dr. Porter seemed thrown off. “We’re inviting only a few people to apply, and you’re on our short list. Is this something you’d be interested in?”

They hung up with lingering plans to arrange flights and meetings.

Lexa sat for a few minutes, her fingers tapping idly on her closed laptop. Clarke would be one of the other candidates—and maybe the only other candidate—she was sure. She looked down and shook her head, thinking back to that day when she made the worst decision of her life.

She had printed out some of the emails she had sent Clarke to reference them against some short stories when the dean knocked on her door. He noticed a copy of L’Engle’s Walking on Water open on her desk.

“What’s that about?” he asked.

“Uh, just a side project I’m working on.” Her face burned with the exposure of her new interest in religious studies.

“Mind if I look?” he asked, picking up one of the print-outs before she could answer.

She bit her lip as he read, his forehead creasing.

After a few minutes, he looked up. “Professor Woods, this is good stuff.”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “Thank you. I’ve been working with Professor Griffin at Georgetown—”

“But these are your words, right?”

“Yeah, what you’re holding. That’s mine.”

“You need to publish this. It could be really good for you and the department.”

“Yeah, Professor Griffin and I—”

“Lexa,” he said in that kind but firm I’m-A-Man-In-Charge voice, “there’s a distinction to be made between attribution and inspiration. I’m inspired every day by the ocean, by James Joyce.” Lexa hid her contempt. Scholars who pretended to understand Joyce were pretentious liars. “But I’m not citing them.”

“Dr. Titus.” Her voice was firm. “I couldn’t have written that without Professor Griffin.”

“Professor Woods.” He looked her straight in the eye. “This department doesn’t need a co-authored paper with someone from Georgetown. We need a win.” He tapped the paper. “These are your words. Are they the product of a broader conversation? Sure, but what isn’t?” He looked out the window at the budding trees. “We took a chance on your genre work. And I’m seeing some good stuff. But I need to see more if we’re going to keep you on.”

Lexa looked past Dr. Titus and took in a silent breath. Jobs in her specialty was rare. UC Irvine had invested more than most schools to create a department where someone like her could thrive. She nodded.

“Get me an abstract and outline next week,” the dean said. “The managing editor at Foundation is a former student.”

When he left, she took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She would need to cancel her panel with Clarke in Cleveland. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to look at her again.

---

Clarke let out a deep breath as she stepped into the crisp fall air. It had been a long day of interviews. She stopped on the stairs. She knew Lexa was close by. She had to be. They were the two people in the country most qualified for the job. She’d been on these interview panels before. Two, sometimes three, a day, candidates rotating between deans and panels. Clarke was surprised she hadn’t seen her yet.

She shook her head. Maybe she should have said something about that first paper. The job would be hers if she had. But would she even be considered without that paper? It had launched her career. Her public debate with Alexandria J. Woods, PhD, got her lectures around the country, a longform article in The Atlantic, and the keynote spot at conferences that two years ago would have never taken her seriously. Their refusal to appear together added to their mystique. Geeks and academics alike lined up on reddit and twitter to take sides.

Her success was bound to Lexa’s, two sides of the same double helix.

She bundled a scarf around her neck. It didn’t matter where Lexa was. Clarke loved the work she did, and she had rocked the interviews. But she was tired. It was time for a drink. She pulled out her phone to call a Lyft. Something about the fading purple sky changed her mind, though, and she decided to walk.

The cobblestones on O Street felt somehow comforting under her feet. Solid. Old. Not going anywhere. She thought about calling Dr. Reyes from the engineering department to join her—Raven was always good for either a loud night of much alcohol or a quiet night of raw, stinging truth—the latter of which was why Clarke had never told her all that had happened with Lexa. She shook her head. Maybe she just needed some gin and silence.

She sat at the bar at L’Annexe and ordered a Tom Collins. Bartenders always smiled curiously at her when she ordered one. Funny, you don’t look like a 75 year-old man to me. She’d smile back impatiently. Just make my damn drink. When the drink arrived, she took a sip and let out a deep breath as the gin started to glow through her. No one can fuck up a Tom Collins. It was simple and always felt good and sharp and bright going down.

She was halfway through her drink when a man sat next to her and ordered a scotch. Clarke glanced at his plaid scarf, wool sweater, and worn leather shoulder bag. Definitely a TA. He noticed her looking at him and smiled.

“I’ve seen you,” he said. “You teach that Harry Potter course.”

Clarke’s stifled a sigh. “That’s me.” She tilted her head back and drank the rest of her Tom Collins in one swig.

“Can I get you another?”

“No,” she said, picking up her bag. She made eye contact with the bartender. “I need to pay.”

“Whoa,” the man in the scarf said, raising his hands. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

“And I was just trying to be alone.” Clarke nodded towards the guy sitting on the other side of him. “Maybe you can be nice to him.” She dropped some cash on the check that had arrived and made her way to the door.

It was darker outside than when she’d arrived. And colder. She buttoned her wool coat and started making her way down Pennsylvania Ave. towards the bus stop.

---

Lexa was sipping a Syrah at a window table when she saw Clarke walk by outside. She took in a breath, remembering how Clarke’s eyes got soft when she asked, “Do you believe in God?” She shook her head. She could just let her keep going, and they could go on avoiding each other forever. Unless Lexa got the job.

Shit.

She grabbed her coat, leaving a $20 under her mostly full glass. By the time Lexa got out the door, Clarke was halfway down the block, almost lost in a crowd of loud students. Lexa didn’t button her coat, and it billowed out as she jogged down the street.

“Clarke!” she shouted as she got closer. She saw Clarke stop, her back straighten and stiffen. She didn’t turn around.

---

Clarke wanted to be angry. When she heard that voice, she wanted to spin on her heel and unleash a cascade of expletives that would make the passersby uncomfortable. She not only wanted Lexa to hear the words traitor, cheat, betrayed, she wanted her to feel the force of them rip through her body like a landmine.

But she froze. When she heard that voice, she felt tears sting at the corner of her eyes. She felt a slow storm in her chest, all rain and no lighting. She closed her eyes. She wanted to be angry, but all she felt was heaviness. She held her breath and waited.

When she opened her eyes, Lexa was in front of her, her eyes uncertain and her arms folded in front of her. “Hey…” she said after a few moments.

Clarke bit into her lip, hoping not to draw blood. She looked up, her blue eyes blazing, about to spark. She could tell Lexa was waiting for her to say something, so she stayed silent.

Lexa nodded. “I’m so sorry, Clarke.” She didn’t know what else to say.

Clarke’s eyes locked on Lexa’s, but she refused to respond.

“I don’t expect you to understand...” Lexa trailed off. “It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.” She looked past Clarke to a stoplight turning from yellow to red.

Lexa’s open coat revealed a gray plaid suit, smart and uncompromising, the top button studiously and chastely buttoned. So she had interviewed today. In this moment, though, it all felt wrong. Lexa seemed so small to Clarke. She wasn’t the woman she met at the hotel that night, but she also wasn’t the woman who submitted that article. This woman was drawn in on herself, her hair falling around her face like a curtain. Clarke remained silent.

Lexa sucked in her lips. “I know you probably hate me, and I get it.” She looked down. “I hate me, too.”

“No.” Clarke’s voice was deep and quiet. “You don’t get to do that.” She felt confused when she saw a shadow of relief cross Lexa’s face.

“You’re right,” Lexa said. “That’s not fair.” She took a long, deep breath and let it out. “I’m going to tell them.” She looked Clarke in the eye. “I’m going to tell Georgetown, and I’m going to tell Foundation. I’ll—”

“Don’t.” Clarke cut her off. “It’s done.”

“But—”

“Fuck you, Lexa.” She barely looked at her as pushed past, a slow fire burning through her as she walked briskly towards Dupont Square.

---

Lexa was freezing by the time she got back to her hotel room. She had stood on the sidewalk for a long time, watching Clarke get smaller and smaller. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Forgiveness? Punishment? Clarke had given her neither, which is what she knew she deserved.

She had never written a paper more carefully, never thought about the ideas so closely, never danced so delicately around sentence structure and tense. In a twisted way, she was proud of it. It was sophisticated but accessible, and completely defensible. Even if Clarke had tried to accuse her, she was sure she would have won.

She shook her head sharply. That’s not who I am. But it was. She was intelligent and ambitious and ready for a breakthrough. She knew Titus had been threatening her, but she also knew that what she had been writing with Clarke was good. Really good. She had never felt so alive in her work as when she was in conversation with Clarke. No one had ever challenged or inspired her like that. Even after that first paper, her debates with Clarke from essay to essay were electric, almost feverish. Clarke tapped something in her that was insatiable.

She picked up her laptop and opened some of the first emails she and Clarke had exchanged after Bloomington. She couldn’t help but smile. There had been a giddiness to them, this breathless excitement to constantly share new discoveries, interesting connections. They had sent seven, sometimes eight, messages a day. Thousands of words.

And that night in Bloomington.

She closed the laptop. Was it worth it? For months, Lexa had tried to convince herself that it had just been one night, that she didn’t even really know Clarke. When she saw Clarke on that sidewalk tonight, though, she knew that was all bullshit.

They had been falling for each other the best way they knew how. Lexa had betrayed all of it.

—-

Lexa was sitting on the floor outside Clarke’s office when she arrived the next morning.

Clarke sighed. “Seriously?” She didn’t look at her as she slid her key in the lock. “What are you doing here?”

“I had a meeting to cancel.” Lexa shrugged, not getting up.

Clarke pushed her door open. “I don’t have anything else to say to you, Dr. Woods.”

“I withdrew my name.”

Clarke froze. “Why?” Clarke noticed jeans and a sweater under Lexa’s coat. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun. She was serious.

“You know why.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” Lexa said steadily as she stood up. The smallness from the night before was gone. She stood tall, her shoulders thrown back. “I don’t know who else they’re interviewing, but I’m not your competition anymore.” She swallowed and looked into Clarke’s eyes. “I don’t want to be your competition anymore.”

Clarke let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She wanted to say, Good luck, Dr. Woods, and close the door behind her, but instead she felt herself pushing the door open, heard herself saying, “Come in.”

Lexa bit her lip. “You sure?”

Clarke nodded and ushered her in. The door clicked as it closed behind them. Clarke set her bag down and sat at her desk. She shook her head, frustrated. “I just want to hate you. That’s all. I want to tell you to fuck off, and I want to go on with my life.”

Lexa sat in the reading chair in the corner of Clarke’s office. She nodded, looking down at her hands. “Then why don’t you?”

Clarke huffed, a cynical laugh. “I can’t get away. You’re everywhere.” She threw up her hands. “I saw you on the fucking New Yorker site this morning. How did you land that?” A rhetorical question. “I assign your essays for my classes. I have to. I hate how good you are.”

“You’re good, too, Clarke,” Lexa said quietly. She looked up. “Very good. I keep researching and writing because you keep responding.”

Clarke closed her eyes. She knew it was the same for her, but she didn’t want to say it. Finally she looked up. “Why did you do it?”

Lexa looked past her at Clarke’s diplomas on the wall. Undergrad at Cornell. She shook her head, almost said I don’t know, but she didn’t want to lie. “I wanted to do something big.” She gathered the courage to look at Clarke’s face. “I wanted to do it with you, but my dean pressured me to take solo authorship.” She closed her eyes, ashamed. “And I was a coward.”

“Yeah.” Clarke leaned back in her chair. “You were.”

Everything that came into Lexa’s head to say felt like an excuse, so she kept her mouth shut. They both did, the loud ticking of the cheap clock on the wall cutting through the silence.

Finally Clarke shook her head. A corner of her mouth curved up. “It was really beautifully done.”

Lexa looked up, her head tilted.

“I was so fucking angry, Lexa.” Clarke breathed out like she was letting something go. “I should have been a coauthor, but, fuck, it was well written. Like it was on a whole other level.”

Lexa’s green eyes were bright as they locked in on Clarke’s. “You inspire me, Dr. Griffin.” She sat back. “It’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She paused and sucked in her lips. “I think we should write a book together.”

As soon as Clarke heard the words, she knew it was a good idea. Maybe the best idea. But all that would come out was, “Fuck you, Lexa.” It was almost a laugh.

Lexa’s face was stone, but her eyes were alive. “An editor already approached me. If I brought you on…”

“You can’t buy your way out of the shitty thing you did, Lexa.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Lexa ran her hand over her hair then looked up, her face suddenly soft. “I meant it, Clarke. I’m better with you.” She shrugged. “And I think you’re better with me, too.”

Clarke bit her lip. She took in a heavy breath, and let it out in a long sigh. She stood up. “Come here.”

Lexa squinted her eyes.

“Just come here, please. You owe me that.”

Lexa stood up in front of Clarke. Clarke lifted her hand to her face and leaned in, her lips barely touching Lexa’s. Lexa didn’t move, but Clarke felt her shiver. She leaned in and kissed her softly. Then she pulled back.

“I just…” Clarke didn’t know where the end of that sentence was supposed to go, and she didn’t tried to find it. Instead, she lifted her eyes and looked at Lexa as her chest rose and fell, rose and fell.

Lexa held her breath.

Finally Clarke smiled, almost laughing at herself. “That’s not a yes, Dr. Woods. But it’s not a no.”

#clexa #clexa fanfic #clarke x lexa #CLEXA AU

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fringchound-a · 5 years ago

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Castle // Dribble

decided to repost a couple pieces of mine that were added back when the tag and i were fighting, so this is what this is it has some slight editing as well

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~INSPIRATION: x x ~

Someone reminded me that there are almost a hundred different castle sites in the Black Forest, although only about four of them are suitable for tourists. The rest are old ruins they’ve identified, most of those from before the unification of the kingdoms and territories. So I got to thinking; what would a Landing do to them, and this is what happened. Might write more for it, might not.

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The doors in front of her are barely on their hinges when Volk climbs the crumbling stone steps to them, checking over her shoulder at her charge. A small cluster of five Zoners make up an odd circle behind her, making sure they face every inch and corner of the courtyard. They are hunters, having asked the Forest permission before to help cull the cherub population, but are currently keeping company with the tall stalker until the trees pass by below. They know she is safe to be with, the Forest favors her and will give her and all with her passage. It is not greed, they have assured the ancient oak and beech and pine, it is survival only that they cling to the Guide, knowing that only a Guide ordained by the Zone can open the castles safely.

They still dot the landscape, of course. German construction would take more than a simple alien visit to topple over, and the Forest seems to like them enough to keep them intact on their ominous crags and hills. So long as the stairs and paths are intact on the way up, there is nothing to fear. Still, even though they have a Guide to open the doors and placate the entity of the interior, they nervously make sure the Forest doesn’t have second thoughts by them.

Seeing all are present, Volk turns and regards the old doors again. They are still sturdy, even while their hinges rusted through. The swollen wood will prove no problem for the castle itself. She raises a hand and knocks hard on one panel, three times, heavy enough to hear echoes in the chambers beyond. Then, she takes a step back and waits.

She doesn’t have to wait long. The stones begin to creak and groan, from the structure itself to those lining the courtyard to the crumbling walls around that. It is a sound that encompasses, makes the inner ear and chest space rattle. It sounds like this is the only sound in the entire world, that it is the entire world. Needless to say, it is asking who has come calling.

To anyone unaccustomed, it sounds like old wood settling, at a volume that could make one worry about the aged wooden supports holding the structure up. To an ordained Guide, however, there are voices beneath the groan. Sometimes, it’s just a few, sometimes there are too many to count, but there are always more than one overlapping in whispers.

Thankfully, Hohengeroldseck is a fairly friendly old creature, fond of the memory of tourist energy from before the Landing. Its greeting is enough to say that, a murmured pleasantry only she can hear.

“Good day, and sorry to disturb you. The trees are migrating through here. Is it alright if my companions and I use you as shelter? We will not stay long.” she asks, looking up to focus on any window within view. Like looking someone in the eye to portray sincerity, even if the eyes are scattered all across the surface of the face.

It groans, it whispers, and the hunters move closer toward her nervously, unsure of the castle’s temperament. It’s probably better that way, really. A fear of the old beasts of ruins is healthy and better than having none.

They only hear one half of the exchange, but it seems to go well. “...Oh, is there a storm rolling in? ... From the north-east? I see... I suppose we could keep you company until it passes, if you will have us ... Yes. Yes, we can keep your conditions, and you may have anyone who refuses to do so. Thank you.”

She is certain her charge will respect the castle’s rules, and her assurances are enough for it to allow them entry. With a click, the doors open and grind across the floor, and once the stalker passes the threshold with no consequence, the other five are close behind. Once everyone is inside, the doors shut and lock, drowning the party in a temporary darkness.

She hears the hunters shuffle uncomfortably beside her. “Stay close.” she warns them. “If you don’t, you won’t get out of here.”

They don’t stray as told, but their nervousness is tangible as a vibrating energy in the blackened entry. The sound of a groan echoes through the building, followed by a brief inexplicable ticking noise, and the room blazes into existence as ornate wall sconces light the path of a corridor in front of them.

For an old ruin that looks like it hasn’t changed on the outside, the inside is surprisingly well-furnished. The walls around and ahead of them are fine plaster with a raw wood-grain wainscot, the floor is a dark oak herringbone. It looks maintained and polished, like it has always been this way. She knows this is not the case. She knows the history of this old ruin and understands what is happening here.

“Stay close to me, keep your eyes on me.” she instructs. “Don’t look around, and especially don’t try to peek in the doors.”

Muttered acceptance is given from the others and she walks forward, dull footfalls on the wooden floor thudding into the hall. The walls are pocked with dark doorways, yawning abysses where no light shines and the occasional shuffle or scrabble of unseen movement emanates. Even the light from the sconces ends abruptly in the door frames, sharp lines of contrast between warmth and unending cold on the thresholds. Although curiosity grips the Zoners, they know better than to defy a Guide when warning is given, and so she feels five pairs of eyes on her back at all times.

Sound changes in the corridor, sharp as nails on a concrete floor at some points, pockets where there is no sound at all. Castles are, in their own way, like Zones themselves, acting independently of that which creates them. They think for themselves and create their own elaborate trap systems and take their own retribution. This hallway is the first and easiest trap of Hohengeroldseck, and Volk is sure it will change by the time she returns here.

Her charges have not lifted their eyes from her once that she knows of. A quick glance over one shoulder assures her that all of them are still there, and not one of them has drifted or been stolen. Zoners are fairly keen to the ways of the Zone and tend to listen to Guides, however. There is little worry they would disappear when warned.

The hallway ends, the same sharp boundary line carved into the floor as the doors along the walls behind them like the shelf of the world, leading into nothingness beyond. The sound of the sconces behind them shutting off slowly causes a shuffle of panic amid the Zoners. They place their hands on her shoulders and back as though using her as an anchor to something real. They are scared, and rightfully so when the darkness returns, the sound of creaking wooden supports permeating the abyss around them growing more and more deafening. Another test, another trap. Something quick and simple, if disorienting, before they are given the prize. A test of trust, a leap of faith.

The sconces light, but not behind them. They will not go back using that hallway, it is dangerous now. Before them is a room. It is large and octagonal, the same plaster and wainscot walls with a vaulted ceiling held by strong curved supports and the polished wood floor. A stairway curves up one side with narrow slit windows covered in stained glass. A fireplace in the far wall blazes to life, the chandelier in the ceiling lights. It is a cozy space, a feeling of calmness hanging over it with its rugs and low seats and a stack of bedding in one corner. When counted, there are five sets for five hunters.

“Hohengeroldseck has chosen to give you shelter and safety for the duration of the storm rolling in.” She translates the conditions of the castle ruin given her earlier, letting her sense of gravity re-establish itself from the dizzying trip between rooms. “Its only condition is that you five never leave this room. It will provide comfort, provided you are not impolite.”

Sighs of relief and confirmation of the conditions are replied in every mouth, and slowly, they flutter like a flock of birds to rest at the fireplace, accenting their short trek with giving thanks to the walls and to the floor and to the fire. Anything they associate with the castle is given thanks before they settle for good, bowing with hands clasped as though addressing a god. It’s not so far off, really.

Volk has faith they will do as told, and that all five will be there waiting when she comes to get them. Guides rarely stay with those they enter with when in castles. The old ruins ask for company, and only the Guides know how to give that company. As soon as she sees the Zoners made comfortable, the wall behind her slides open and she exits through it as bade.

The groaning whispers are back as the wall shuts behind her. Asking where it is she would like to stay, to sleep, to talk.

“I would like to watch the storm, if that’s alright.”

Confirmation, another wall sliding to one side in front of her to offer her passage to a crumbling stone stairway, narrow enough she has to turn slightly to climb up it. The walls here are made of stone, broken and fractured but still standing sturdy. This is the true face of the castle, the ruin.

She looks down through a split in the wall, at the way the wooden supports are quietly mending and weaving over themselves, a slow process. Hohengeroldseck is slowly, but surely, rebuilding itself to reflect its glorious past. The room the hunters are staying in is real, it is merely a part of an unexplainable labyrinth the castle has built up for itself, a form of defense. It is not the center of the labyrinth, however, and there are still many corridors and halls and tunnels that branch off it. If they all stay in that room, they will be safe and not get lost.

She arrives at the top of the stairs, the stone walls cloaking her movement. Holes in them brought on by age are also rebuilding, just as slowly as the wood separating floors below. It’s more subtle with masonry, her diligent eyes picking up on the crackle and shift of blocks and brick slotting together. Where it gets the materials is a mystery, but not one anyone is truly eager to solve.

She reaches her destination, a small outcrop that might have been a window seat in a turret at one point. The intricate stonework remains, carved around the window wells and worn by time and the elements before the Landing. Through the glassless windows here, she can see the Forest below.

A herd of the trees, likely the one they were initially avoiding, is making an obvious path below, scuttling along as the trees do on their root systems. They will not come near the hill that the castle sits on. Nothing comes to the castles besides desperate humans and the faithful Guides.

A few clearings can be seen from her vantage, the glimmer of artificial light denoting four hamlets and one of the smaller towns. But that is not what she is looking for.

The horizon a short ways off is dark and broiling with streaks of vibrant green veins, the storm the ruin warned her of. The wind is starting to blow over the Forest below, upsetting the canopy like hard waves on a green sea. She can see the flashes of light within the folds, hear distant thunder. The trees surrounding the hamlets and town start to bow further forward, creating an umbrella over each. They are protecting their people against the incoming onslaught of weather, readying to catch heavy rain and hail threatening them.

She settles in the frame of the central window, resting her arsenal and equipment to one side carefully. It isn’t long now...

Hohengeroldseck doesn’t speak much now that she is in her place. It will simply enjoy her presence and alert her if anything goes wrong with the hunters in their room. The groaning creak has ceased altogether, even when the headwind hits the ancient structure. It carries the smell of freezing water and heavy ozone, a chill ruffle of her loose hairs in its embrace, the loud crack of thunder and lightning drowning out the ambient clink and grind of the masonry placing itself. The rain begins to patter, large drops darkening the pale stone more with each passing second.

In a way, it is humbling. A reminder that even a Zone is not exempted of something so primal as nature’s fury.

#S.T.A.L.K.E.R.#S.T.A.L.K.E.R. OC #stalker oc #Roadside Picnic #Dribbles #me and the tag had a fight #i clearly won #besides i wrote this around in spring last year? so it's about time to edit/update it a wee bit #also in anticipation for the Eldritch Influence and Guide's Story set coming later

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carpe-lumxn · 4 years ago

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@collidingxworlds | continued from here (x)

Okay, so at first Lucifer delivered some boundaries of what can and can't be done in order to try and seek a compromise. According to Crowley's sullen reply it was not as effective. Then again, Crowley was not keen at all to give up his view of Earth, willing to fight tooth and nail for it again. Why someone would fight so hard for an unfinished prototype, Lucifer did not understand. Alright already. You are right, changing one's worldview was a process that required multiple steps. Perhaps Lucifer was asking for suggestions in order for Crowley to have no reason to object to Hell anymore, but his choice was clear-- he wanted the company of humanity and humanity only. No matter how flawed it was. So. Despite how problematic it was, it would be wiser to let the matter rest for now. Meanwhile, Lucifer explicitly stated that she was here for suggestions for improvement, which was somewhat true, so she might as well make the most of it.

Bear with me, princess, she thought as Crowley rolled his eyes. You could survive 6000 years as a demon, you could survive this brief conversation. She could be patient, luckily. So Lucifer huffed, sat back, crossed her arms, and listened.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at Crowley's attempt to appease her pride. Arguing that she knew Earth better than other demons. Well. Only to a certain extent, Lucifer never visited the surface for long. Then she realised that Crowley was justifying this from her fashion choice. Ah. It was nighttime, so he wasn't able to see her full ensemble. Lucifer crossed her ankles, flashing her dragon-scaled spats and the tattered ash edges of her culottes. Very strange to wear spats in the 21st century, was it not? Yes, they, along with gold makeup, were incredibly fashionable with the Archangels. 'Tis a dead end, sweetie, nothing to see here.

Maybe it was petty, yes, but Lucifer scoffed at they’ll listen to you, we’ve always have. It was a very delicate balance, power. She chewed the tip of the cigar. No can do. Lucifer did not trust so much given out. “I see you’ve never met Behemoth and Leviathan. Or Asmodeus and his cult. You are right, some demons do need to hear that, but saying all that at once? Hmm. There's also a crowd who would not care much for that, a crowd who would see that as degrading, and another crowd... well. Bit hard to explain about that crowd." She waved her hand. "Fugetaboutit."

So Lucifer was feeling confident at first. And then Crowley talked about the politics, how Lucifer sold fake sights just like the incompetent political leaders on this planet. Okay, that caused Lucifer's patience to wane, because that wasn’t true. There was an end in sight, they just had to push for it. Second of all, Crowley really was using a lot of keywords that ticked her off. Embarrassing, lazy, choice, change, etc. Alright, so maybe Crowley was smarter and more observant than Lucifer had thought. Lucifer did squint really hard at him during the "do nothing" accusation, however, as well as his proposal to remain independent. Yes, as if she didn't have other places to be.

“And if, despite your contribution, nothing improves…?”

Lucifer was surprised that Crowley knew not only how to accurately describe Epicurus' key ideas, but synthesise from it. How he had used it, on the other hand? Arguing that the best things were something to work towards? Okay. Lucifer would have laughed, or cried. Maybe both. Good thing Lucifer had become a little too fatigued by that belief to bother much. She didn't let herself be fazed because of this and so simply nodded along.

At the innuendo, Lucifer's eyes widened for a split second, but a blink later and she reverted back to a neutral face. Yikes, what a whiplash. She frowned a little at whether Crowley was reaffirming about the lack of Holy water or whether Crowley was joking about her lack of tolerance towards alcohol. Fine, that was a very solid double entendre. To add to the insult, the brandy was actually very delicious. Very smooth, with woody undertones and a nice, vanilla aftertaste. Okay, she was definitely wrong. Lucifer wasn’t feeling thirsty anymore, truly, so she put the brandy back onto the table.

“Technologies. Technologies in Hell. They’re… often ineffective against the environment. The root problem isn't the bacteria, it's the shifting tectonic plates. Every time they move, ground water leaks into the corridors and the rooms. And with water comes life. Course, solving that would require a complete do-over. Believe me. I've checked with the demons who developed them. We did experiment with Roman herringbone brickwork designed to withstand earthquakes once. Didn't work.” But a huff through the nostrils implied a curiosity about whether the aforementioned technologies could finally work. “On the bright side, at least we can't get sick from it.

“Beelzebub. Yes, you worked under Beelzebub. They’re infamous for being intensive with their work ethics. Why did you not weasel yourself out? Assign yourself under a better, more relaxed Lord, then Beelzebub won't have much dominion over you anymore. All you need to do is to forge the right documents. Put someone else in your place for karma, even, you're smart enough to do that. You only get into trouble if you’re caught, after all. And if that helps with your situation? I say that it's for all the better.”

A sense of panic had risen inside of her when Lucifer realised that she could not recognise Crowley. And even more when Crowley announced who he had been— an angel who made the stars. Well. That could explain why he wanted to be so detached. He was an outlier amongst the rebels. Combined with living on Earth rather than in Hell... what if that’s why Crowley was able to survive the Holy water. Because he still was, at the core, an angel. True, all demons want closure in regards to that fact, but again, what was a starmaker doing on the wrong side?

Why? Lucifer was about to ask. Why did you fall? But at the sight of Crowley’s panicked expression, Lucifer realised just how deep of a grave she had just dug. No no no, focus. He may miss being an angel like everyone else, but he was still fallen. They could start with some sort of retribution, then move onto giving context. Yes, they could do that.

“At least the past is over and done with now. I…” come on. What should she say? "Think it was unfair.” There you go. “I think it was unfair that that had happened to you, the fall, and you have all the rights to be furious.”

There was some truth— in the beginning, Lucifer did feel guilt at leading a failed revolution. And just as she thought that she had cleared it away, it had chosen to waltz back into her life at the worst moment. Well no, she's not going to let that piece of doubt get the better of her. There was work to be done.

"Very well. Perhaps I can never see Earth through your eyes just as much as you can’t see it through mine. But supporting it is still problematic. Look at it this way. For…” a demon. But then he did not see himself completely as a demon. “Someone like you, you are very sympathetic. More than what is safe. So perhaps a story can help you reconsider this.

"You’re working on a little project called humanity. Perhaps you're tasked to work on something small, like painting the chrysalises of caterpillars, or a bigger group effort like sculpting mountains out of stone." Lucifer's gaze drifted to the ground. If only they knew. "Despite your small contribution, you understand that all this is going to pay off into a very successful project. Then the Almighty announces that you all are only granted six days to finish building the Earth. You need more time. All of you need more time. And you understand that in order to successfully finish your craft, you can't perform under such a tight deadline.”

Lucifer fiddled with her lapels. "You know, I've looked at human books out of curiosity sometimes, to see how they view this world. Alfred Russel Wallace once theorised about evolution: that the current versions of Earth's living organisms are a finalised product of several prior drafts. Well they somewhat are… just under a tight deadline. And you think to yourself: those aren't even the best examples of what we are able to produce. Some were downright rushed. What amazing things would we be able to do if we were given more time?"

She unconsciously chewed her lower lip. Maybe this was a mistake. It had always been a mistake to be this open. But the serpent had made stars once, so he was an artist of sorts. If Lucifer was lucky, perhaps he'd understand the grief too familiar to Lucifer. If Lucifer was unlucky… well. Whatever he did, it will only be another firm reminder for Lucifer to do better next time.

"And then rather than being presented a compromise, even if it was just one more day, what are you given? A war. Not only a war, but one that divided you and your friends. And, and, not only divide, but cause them to turn against you. In extreme cases, your loved ones are the ones who fight you on that battlefield, because they know that you love them too much to hurt them. They know that they'll be rewarded and become celebrated for "fighting against their personal desires in order to do what is right"." She gave out a cold laugh. Lucifer had a scar in her chest. It was the one where Michael plunged her flaming sword inside from behind her back. No matter how many corporations Lucifer swapped out of, the scar remained, a reminder of her mistake of trusting Michael too much, too soon.

“And then you and your coworkers become punished together. But not just with something temporary like being jailed, no." Lucifer pressed the cigar butt into the ashtray and miracled her good cigarettes, finally. Maybe Crowley will complain about the stench of burning cloves and yarrow, but that was beyond her concern. "Well. You know the rest."

She shot a sharp glare at the serpent, at the starmaker. "Do you see my point?"

Lucifer let out a long, quiet sigh as she sat back, her gaze on the other end of the room. “I understand your distance. I don’t understand your complicity. Well. Somewhat. Even so, I don't understand why you would want to stand for a symbol of exploited labour and Her hubris. And I know that there is no benefit for my own kind to have to stay in a dark tunnel forever when there is something better at the other side. You... could argue that the really good things, the best ones, are the pleasures we have to work for," she quoted in an ironic attempt to lighten the mood.

Lucifer sighed again and shook her head in confusion. "I bet you didn't fall for something as grave as I did, starmaker. But my point still stands, that gives you all the more rights to seek retribution for what She had done to you. Don’t you wonder whether your life could be better than it is now? Don’t you want justice, too? Don't you want respect?”

#collidingxworlds #the Earth is a Libra (canonverse)#//hi! Tagging your multimuse blog I hope that's alright ^^U

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