#when I was working landscaping and car detailing I was in the sun all damn day and still barely reached 16

[magicmagica]

This just in! Severe vitamin d deficiencies can cause a mayrid of mental health and physical health issues!

[hmar177]

DALLAS WINSTON ONE SHOT <3

******SMUTTTTTTTYYYYY******

I'm not sure when I stopped loving Jack, but I know it crept out of the subconscious of my mind the second I saw that damn photo. I know I shouldn't feel this way, Jack is perfect. He comes from a good family, he's sweet and charming, he gets along with my friends and brings my mom flowers everytime he comes over. He was everything I could have dreamed for myself. He is who I should want. But that damn picture of Dallas Winston.

I wish he had just stayed on his side like he was supposed to.

My predicament started a few months ago when I was walking home from school. I had to stay late after my final class to run over a few plans with the committee for the dance coming up. It was my first dance that I was fully running myself and I was over the moon about it. I loved planning big events like this. My brain worked meticulously over every detail and it was so satisfying watching it all come together.

After I had finished my meeting with Sally and Davis, I found myself taking my normal walk home. It was a beautiful day out. The sun was just low enough in the sky to cast a gentle, warm glow on my face, the leaves left a quiet hum in my ears, and I found myself inhaling the glorious scent of the freshly landscaped houses as if the scent would live forever in my lungs if I breathed deep enough.

As I rounded the last corner before my street, I heard loud screeching coming from behind me. A car full of what seemed to be 4 or 5 rowdy boys came barreling down the street. Blasting loud rock music and howling like a pack of wolves, the boys came up fast. I stopped in place and watched as they came closer. They slowed up ever so slightly as they passed me, giving me a good chance to glance into the vehicle. I didn't recognize them, but I did recognize the driver. Dallas Winston.

With his sunglasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose and a cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth, he held my eyes as he cruised by. I can't tell if I imagined it or not, but I thought I caught a hint of a smirk on his face before he punched the accelerator once more and took off before I could even register the entire exchange. It almost felt like I had just hallucinated that whole sequence.

What were a bunch of greasers doing over here on the west side? Not that I ever had anything against them, I just figured they would want to stay clear of a bunch of privileged, snotty folks who are constantly after their demise.

I had never met Dallas before, but I knew bits and pieces about him. Grew up with a rough homelife, dropped out of school, and even wound up in prison for a while. Everyone in this town saw Dallas and all the greasers as less than. I saw them as kids who just had shit luck when it came to the parents department.

I knew some greasers. There were quite a few in my grade, like Sodapop Curtis. He was one of the sweetest kids I ever met. Had a heart of gold, and a boatload of love for some girl Sandy he always seemed to mention. Soda dropped out a few months ago though after his parents both died tragically in a car accident. Another example of kids with shit luck and no ones around this town to sympathize for them.

Later that night, I found myself sitting at my desk trying to work on my short story. I was assigned by my English teacher to write a short story loosely based on a truly exciting and invigorating time in my life that made me feel alive. The only problem was I have never had an experience in my life that could remotely be described as such.

Everyday, I wake up, go to school, go to event committee meetings, or to my internship at the local newspaper, The Tulsa Chronicles. After all that, I either come home and do homework, or just hangout at the drive in with my friends and my boyfriend Jack. Nothing about my routine is special or interesting. It never changes and I don't see it altering anytime soon. In a town with so little to do, it is quite the tall order to ask us to find something interesting to write about.

I want to be a writer some day, so when I can't complete a simple short story for school, it horrifies me that I may be chasing after a hopeless dream. I intern at the Tulsa Chronicles in hope of it being a good addition to my college applications, but for now I am just helping with the printing and shipping of the papers. One of the editors told me if I had a writing piece that I was proud of, I could pass it along to them and they could give it a read and see if there were any opportunities for me to write something for the paper soon. I was hoping this short story could be that piece that I was proud of, but that is looking like a pipe dream now.

After staring at my blank paper for what feels like hours, I decide tonight is not the night that I am going to find any inspiration, so I turn out the lights and climb into bed. Maybe my dreams will inspire me. Maybe I'll dream of those greasers, flying through neighborhoods and screaming, sounding like they are high on the freedom that life has to offer. I want a taste of what they are having.

The next day is the same as all the other ones, not to anyone's surprise. I woke up, went to school, and made my way over to the Tulsa Chronicles. When I walked in, the newsroom was buzzing much more than normal. In a town as boring as Tulsa, there is not a ton of news to report, so when the newsroom was like this, something major must have happened.

“Rose, get to the printer stat. We need to start loading up these boxes now!” my boss Susan yelled from across the room.

“On it!” I let her know.

As I made my way to the printer, pages were flying out faster than I have ever seen before. This must be a big story if they have the printers working this hard.

Page after page, I watched them stack into a nice pile until the cover page finally flew out.

It read, “Delinquent youths turn heroes after daring fire rescue”

Right next to the title, I saw their faces, Ponyboy Curtis, Johnny Caid, and Dallas Winston.

Pony and Johnny's pictures didn't shock me. Cherry Valance told me a few days ago how sweet and kind they had been to her at the drive in and they always seemed like kind approachable kids. But cherry had also mentioned that Pony and Johnny had protected her from, Dallas Winston

Dallas had always seemed so cold and foreboding. Even his smirk from yesterday's drive by left a chill down my spine. It wasnt that I was afraid of him, but Dallas Winston wasn't someone you just assumed you could become fast friends with. You had to earn his loyalty to be seen with him. His picture being tagged alongside this story seemed extremely out of character. Dallas had his family of greasers and he had himself. There wasn't much else he was looking after. Especially not strangers in some random church fire.

I picked up the front page and looked at it very closely. Part of me didn't want to assume like the rest of this town that this was a mistake, but a bigger part of me couldn't help but think this wasn't true. Dallas Winston saving children he didn't know? Dallas didn't walk by a child in the street without trying to terrify them in some way. Something isn't adding up. Were we all utterly wrong about him? I couldn't help but just stare at his picture, trying to see him run into that burning church. Coming out covered in ash, carrying a couple kids in his arms and placing them down gently before rushing back inside to save more. I felt a twinge in my chest. Something I haven't felt before.

“Rose! Quit daydreaming and pack up those papers. The delivery service will be here in 20 to take those boxes out. They better be filled!” Susan yelled.

“Yes of course.” I replied, suddenly taken out of my temporary, and odd trance.

As I loaded each paper into the boxes, my eyes lingered a little too long on Dallas’s face as each paper piled onto the next. After what must have been hundreds of papers, I “accidentally” misplaced one in my bag sitting next to me. I don't know why I took it. I would surely be getting one of these papers delivered to my house within the next day or so, but part of me wanted to just have this for me. I also didn't want to explain to my dad why I needed his morning paper, the one I had helped package and ship out and have had access to for over a day.

After loading the last box and as a sudden calmness came over the newsroom, it was finally time to head home. I grabbed my bag, making sure the paper was tucked in enough so that it wouldn't be seen, said goodnight to the staff, and made my way out.

As I walked out of the building, I looked up to see Jack leaned up against his shiny new sports car that his parents just bought him as a good job for making the basketball team present. It sounds ridiculous and it is ridiculous. When you come from money like Jack's family, there are very few occasions that don't involve an illustrious gift such as the sports car he now leans against.

I say all this with complete understanding that I come from a family very similar to Jacks. I am privileged and I know that, but I don't see that as a reason to act any differently towards others. Why should the number that's on my fathers paychecks determine whether I am a better person than others? It doesn't. But people like Jack feel that it does. But Jack makes me smile, and my mother hasn't shut up about those lilies he brought her this past weekend when he was over for dinner. Who could hate Jack, right?

“Hey there honey. How was the journalism world today?” Jack says with a smile as he opens the passenger side door for me to get in. Jack picks me up whenever he's in the area and he knows I'm here. It's very sweet of him. Another reason to love him, right?

“Busy. There was a big story today so there were a lot more papers to print and ship.” I told him.

“Really! What was the story?” He asked.

I hesitated for a second.

“Oh I don't remember. I didn't really get a chance to read it. Too busy getting them into boxes.” I explained. I don't know why I lied. I think a part of me felt guilty about the things I felt and thought as I looked at Dallas’s picture the past few hours and another part of me wanted to keep Dallas to myself for a bit longer because by morning everyone would be talking about him. More people would be picturing him as this grand hero, and I still wanted to be the only one who saw him that way.

The rest of the ride, we sat in comfortable silence. That was the best way to describe me and Jack's relationship. Comfortable. Our parents set us up freshman year of highschool and we fell into the narrative with ease. He was cute and popular. It made sense why I should want him, so I convinced myself I did. And it worked for a while. A long while now. But as we come towards the midway point of Junior year, I'm not too sure how much longer I can convince myself that Jack is what I want. But what would be my reason for leaving him? He was too nice to my parents? He made one too many jokes that made all my friends laugh? He was too popular? Too athletic? On paper he was perfect. Trying to tell anyone that my time with Jack was coming to an end would make me sound like the biggest fool. So I just stayed. There was no reason to leave, even though I wanted there to be so badly.

We pulled up to the front of my house and he came around and opened my door. I thanked him and looked up to my house. The big, beautiful white home sat on top of the hill at the top of my street with a huge porch that wrapped around the whole house, and perfectly painted blue shutters. It was truly out of a magazine and I was eternally grateful for being able to be raised in a home as beautiful as this one. The dining room light shined bright and I knew my parents were in there waiting for me to arrive so we could have dinner as a family. Jack took my hand and walked me to the door. My mother opened it as we took the final step onto the porch.

“Jack!’ My mother said, “How kind of you to bring Rose home. Won't you come in and join us for dinner.”

A pit immediately formed in my stomach.

“I'd love-” Jack started before I cut him off.

“I'm actually not feeling very well so I think I am just gonna go to bed.” I quickly sputtered out. Facing Jack I said, “Maybe another night.”

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before rushing up the stairs and straight into my room before anyone else could say anything. That was definitely rude of me, but the thought of having to sit next to Jack for the next hour, knowing I smuggled home a paper with the only intention of staring at the man on the cover made me extremely nauseous. I may not feel for Jack the way I used to, but I wouldn't be disrespectful, and if I was gonna be disrespectful, I wasn't gonna allow him to eat dinner with me and my family as if everything was fine and dandy.

I sat down on my bed and immediately removed the paper from my bag. It wasn't often that I had strange outbursts such as the one I just had downstairs, so I knew my parents would leave me be for a while. I took the paper, and got comfortable. Reading the entire article front and back and learning that what the title states was indeed true, I took the cover and discarded the rest of the pages. Holding Dallas’s picture up, I thought about the words in the article and how they described the man I was looking at. Bold. Courageous. Brave. Not words I would initially think of when I heard the name Dallas Winston.

His face held hard lines in his jaw and forehead. He had strong dark features and striking eyes. He was beautiful in a rugged and tired way. A way that you never see here in the west side neighborhoods. I was mesmerized by his stern stare. I wanted to know everything about him and I wanted to know it now. I wanted to spend a day with him and learn what it took to earn his trust. To earn a glance from those haunting eyes. The way he looked at me as he rode past me in his car yesterday felt like a shot of espresso. It jolted something awake inside of me. I needed another hit. I craved it.

Before I could comprehend what I was doing, my body was up and at my desk. I was opening my drawer and pulling out a pair of scissors. I slowly and carefully cut around his face making sure not to accidentally trim anything important off, because truthfully it was all important. He was important and I needed to know why.

I held the small picture of Dallas Winston between my fingers, holding as close to the edge as possible, with fear I might smudge it, and I grabbed a piece of tape. Walking over to my bed, I taped the picture on my wall right next to where my head lays when I sleep. I could hide it during the day behind my pillows when I made my bed. It was just for me. He was my new interest. He was my excitement that I had been looking for, I just had to find a way to make these little daydreams something real. As I crawled into bed with the image of dark raven eyes flashing through my mind, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, Jack, my parents, and Tulsa all feeling like a distant memory rather than my reality.

It could have been 3 hours or 3 minutes, but before I knew it, I was woken up by the sound of my desk lamp falling to the ground and a soft breeze coming from my window that I was sure was closed when I got into bed. I shot up like an arrow and reached for the lamp on my bedside table, flicking it on as fast as I could. As the light flooded the room, I was immediately met with the eyes I saw as I lulled myself to sleep. I had to be imagining him right? Dallas Winston stood right there in the middle of my bedroom, standing at least 6 foot 2, drowning in his leather jacket, with his signature blue jeans, and a black eye that was shining through even in the dim lighting.

“Dallas?” I began before he ran over to my bed and clasped his hand around my mouth and the other one slid behind my head keeping me quiet and still.

Slowly he shook his head as if to tell me, now is not a time for talking. I assumed he was scared my parents would hear him, which I am now realizing never even crossed my mind. My parents would lose their minds if they strolled into my room right now to find a greaser, Dallas Winston worst of all, standing in my bedroom at, I flashed my eyes to my clock, 2am. But my parents never even entered my head, nothing really entered my head. Not fear, not my parents, not jack. All I could think about was that incredible shot of adrenaline I felt when I saw him, and coming up with a plan to make him stay as long as possible so I didn't have to stop this feeling.

All of a sudden I heard sirens, and red and blue lights flash past the house at a high speed. I looked up at Dallas who was looking out the window to make sure the coast was clear. His hands were still firmly placed around my head. I studied his face while he wasn't paying attention to me, just as I was doing last night. But this was ten times better. The picture didn't do him justice. He was gorgeous. A light sheen of sweat coated his forehead from running I assumed, and his hair drooped gently in front of his eyes, giving him a rugged elvis look. I could stare at him for hours and not get bored for a second.

Once he saw that he was in the clear, he slowly brought his attention back to me. He studied my face for a second, a small shimmer of something in his eyes but I don't know what it was. After a moment he brought his eyes around my room, studying the pictures and posters on my walls that I'm sure I'll be embarrassed about later, to the books on my nightstand, and with another flick of his gaze, he was locked in on something behind me. He stared long and hard and I couldn't think of what it could be. He slowly came inclose, his lips right next to my ear.

“Well I'll be damned. Looks like I have a fan.” He whispered, his warm breath hitting my neck.

My eyes widened, the picture. Dallas WInston was looking at the picture of him I cut out and taped next to my bed.

“Now tell me darling, if I remove my hands, can you stay quiet and not let anyone know I am here? Because I do have a few questions about this I'd like to ask.” He said quietly with a shit eating grin on his face, so good, that it could seduce the Queen of England.

I slowly nod. Why am I not terrified right now? A known felon is standing in my room right now in the middle of the night. He snuck in my window in an attempt to run from the cops. I am harboring a criminal right now as we speak and all I can think about is how I can end things with Jack so that this lasts forever.

“Good Girl.” He says softly, then slowly takes his hands off my mouth, immediately missing the feel of his touch. God I was so fucked.

He pulled over my desk chair and took a seat right in front of me, our knees almost touching. He held the picture between his fingers looking at it, then up to me.

“So tell me, what's a nice girl like you doing hanging up pictures of bad Dallas Winston on her pretty pink bedroom walls?” He asks.

I think I stopped breathing. What was I supposed to say? There was no real explanation for why I hung up the picture other than I was chasing a feeling I couldn't even name. I stared blankly trying to say anything, trying to think of something to say that would make him as interested in me as I was in him.

“Well?” He pushed after I sat there stunned for I don't even know how long.

“Uhh, I, Uh….. I think I want to feel what you feel.” I said. Shit. That didn't even make any sense. He for sure thought I was crazy. He looked at me puzzled.

“Honey, the last thing you want is to feel what I feel.” He gave a small laugh that created small needles in the back of my throat and moved to get up.

“I want to feel alive. I want to be reckless and have fun. You have fun, don't you?” I said quickly, anything coming out of my mouth was just a hidden plea for him to stay.

He stopped in his tracks, and looked back over to me. The moon casting a soft glow on his hard features. The shimmer in his eyes came back for a second. He slowly sat back down.

“Oh, I have fun. But the kind of fun I have would give a soc like you nightmares.” He said with venom on his tongue. I couldn't tell if he was threatening me or daring me to push him more.

“Show me.” I whispered. Dally smirked at me pondering my dare for a split second, before he slid his switchblade knife out of his pocket and softly dragged the blade from my fingertips, up my arm, and across my collar bone. Every hair on my body stood straight up. My breath hitched ever so slightly and he moved the blade to my neck and held it there.

Part of me was truly scared, and another part of me felt that there was something a bit performative too. Dallas Winston wasn't going to hurt me. I knew that for a fact. He leaned in close, taking a strand of my hair in his other hand, and brought his lips to my ear.

“Are you having fun yet?” He said. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear the smirk in his words.

I backed away so I could meet his eyes. A fire raged behind them. I would give anything to look inside his brain, even for just a moment. I smiled at him and I could see the excitement grow. I don't know why, but I liked what was happening. I liked the uncertainty of what he was going to say and do, and I liked that I trusted him for no reason at all.

“I think I like you more than I should.” I say. I don't know why I said that. I wasn't even embarrassed that I did. It was like being close to him unlocked a new version of myself that I didn't know existed. A version of myself that had confidence and a desire to push the limits. I felt alive.

“Do you like me more than your boyfriend?” He grinned.

“Do you want me to?” I challenged. He grinned and his gaze flicked down to my lips for a moment before it returned to my eyes. The knife at my throat is all but forgotten.

“Let's make a deal. If I can kiss better than a soc, you have to go out with me.” He said.

“And if you can't?” I said, barely a whisper.

“Oh honey, there are very few things I can't do.” He said leaning in and attaching his lips to mine. I felt the knife hit the bed next to me as I melted into his kiss and his hands wrapping around my face.

It was soft and slow for all but a moment, before I knew it he was laying me down on the bed and forcing his tongue into my mouth. I guess it wasn't forcing it, more like me waiting for it and craving it.

My hands roamed his body, feeling his toned muscles through his thin black tee shirt. I slid his leather jacket off, as his hands found their way under my shirt. He planted his hand on my stomach and pushed me down to the mattress keeping me in place. A breeze gently floated in from the window, and it made me hyper aware of the slickness that was now coating my thighs.

His mouth moved to my cheek and then to my neck. I clasp one of my hands over my mouth to muffle my moans. He placed his thigh between my legs allowing me to move my hips to get some relief.

God what was I doing? How did it come to me grinding on Dallas Winston in my bed at 2 in the morning. I couldn't bring myself to stop though. It was all too much. Too good.

“How am I doing sweetheart?” He said in my ear before he brought his face back up to look me in the eyes. “I think the tears in your eyes are telling me that I'm gonna see you tomorrow night.”

I moaned into his shoulder, as I felt his hand trail down my abdomen and underneath my waistband. He teased there for a moment, smirking down at me waiting for me to stop him, but there was no way in hell I wanted this to ever end. I gave him a quick nod before he cupped me over my underwear. He quickly covered my mouth with his own as he knew I was about to moan. He chuckled softly into the kiss.

“My God Dallas. Oh my god” I moaned into his mouth.

“I am a God, aren't I?” He growled before sliding his fingers underneath my underwear and inside of me. The pleasure was so overwhelming, that I bit into his shoulder to stop myself from crying out. He groaned from the pain, but I knew he liked it.

As his fingers pumped in and out of me, he slowly started to grind himself into my hip. He was hard. I felt him poking through his tight jeans, begging to be let out.

“Dallas. I want you.” I begged. I need more of him. I need him closer.

He removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty. I looked up at him and he immediately placed his fingers into his mouth, sucking me off of them. I let out a moan. He was trailing kisses down my chest, then my stomach, never taking his eyes off of me.

“I know baby, I know. Not yet though.” He assured me. “I just need a little taste first.”

He grabbed the waistband of my shorts and my underwear and slowly pulled them down, never stopping his trail of kisses that now led down my leg.

“So beautiful.” He whispered to himself as he was now eye level with my core. “Spread your legs for me baby.” I do what I'm told. “That's it. Good Girl. Now lay back and let me worship you.”

Dallas wastes absolutely no time diving right in and taking all of me into his mouth. He licks from top to bottom and back again before taking my clit into his mouth and sucking. “So sweet.” He moans into me.

I have to grab the pillow on my bed and cover my face because the scream I almost let out would have surely woken up the entire neighborhood. Dallas’s name on the tip of my tongue. The name about to escape with every moan that shoots through me, which would not only let the town know I was in the middle of the most erotic moment of my life, but also it was Dallas Winston that was buried between my legs.

I feel one of Dallas’s hands remove from my thigh and I look down to see what he was doing. I look down to see Dallas’s mouth still attached to my clit, but his eyes boring into mine with the most seductive look I have ever seen in my life. Without ever looking away from me, Dallas removes his mouth, now just an inch away from me, and takes a little gold foil packet out of his pocket and takes it straight to his mouth. He rips the foil open with his teeth and slides the condom out.

He stands up. His 6 foot 2, god-like stance, looming over me, made me feel so small and helpless on my bed. God, I wish I could be a fly on the wall right now, wanting to see what I might look like. My shirt pushed up, shorts and underwear thrown about the room somewhere, My hair probably a mess, and tears staining my face as Dallas Winston stands over me, slowly unbuckling his belt.

He smirks down at me and he pulls his pants and boxers down, revealing his erection and my god it was big. I honestly didn't know if it was gonna fit inside of me. Right on cue, as if he could read my mind, Dallas says, “Don't be scared darling, you can handle it.”

He goes to put on the condom, but I sit up quickly, grabbing his hand, stopping him. “Can I do it?” I ask him. He looks down at me with hooded eyes and a smirk that could kill.

“Fuck yeah you can.” he says in a breathy tone as he hands me the condom. I take the condom out of his hand and hesitantly grab his dick. A low grumble comes from his throat as I give it a little pump before rolling on the condom.

The second it's on, he pushes me on my back, and comes down on top of me. He starts to position himself at my entrance and looks me in the eyes. “Baby, as much as I want this to last forever, I'm not gonna last very long.” He leans in kissing me hard and chuckles against my lips and I smile at his words. Yeah, me neither.

I take a deep breath and he thrusts inside of me. I clasp my arms around his neck and hug him as close to me as possible. He is big and it hurts so good. I bite into his shoulder again trying to distract myself from the pain, but also from the fact that my orgasm is seconds away and he just got inside of me.

He whimpers in my ear as I kiss his neck profusely. He finds a steady pace that has me borderline drooling. “God Dallas, don't stop. It feels so good.” I barely get out because I can barely catch my breath. I shoot one of my hands out and feel something sharp hit my finger. I look down to see Dallas’s knife still sitting next to us on the bed. It must have nicked my finger. Before I can register what's happened, Dallas takes my bloodied finger and sucks it into his mouth while holding my gaze. His eyes were hooded, and looking drunk off sex.

“Come for me baby. Come on. I know you're there. Show me how good I make you feel.” He begs me. Between his words, and my finger in his mouth, I'm there in a second. Burying my face into his neck, my orgasm rips through me harder than it ever has before. My nails digging into his bicep and a drip of sweat going down my forehead. Dallas still thrusts into me hard and fast for a moment more before he takes my lips into his and I feel his dick twitch as he spills into the condom.

He lays on top of me, breathing heavily in my ear for what feels like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes. He slowly removed himself from me, then pushed up so he was hovering over me again. He smiled down at me as I grabbed his face with my hands, pulling him down to kiss me. His kiss was so gentle, the word love flew through my head, but it was only a fraction of a thought.

I brushed my finger over his cheek bone, before noticing my finger was still bleeding. I brought it to my face, inspecting the cut. It wasn't deep at all. Just a knick. Dallas took my finger to his lips and planted a soft kiss to the cut. Adab of blood coating his lip, only for a second before he licked it off.

“What time are you free tomorrow?” He asks as he nuzzles his face into my neck, no doubt leaving more hickeys.

“Maybe around 7?” I told him. “I just have to go break up with Jack, and then I'm all yours.” I giggled lightly. He came back up and looked at me with the most serious expression I saw all night.

“All mine.” He smiled.

***hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!!! DALLAS WINSTON I LOVE YOU***

[tsuki-sennin]

Double feature of Ageha focus! Score!

Seems one also features Tsubasa prominently while the next has her co-starring with Mashiro again. What fun~!

Spoilers, I guess...

-I knew it all along! Ageha was a Kaijim this whole time!

-Be defeated, Agehajim!

-"You suck at fighting!"

-"That's not true! She stomped an elephant in the face with a giant fat chocobo one time!"

-Thank you, Takeru-kun, very cool.

-What a lad.

-"Agetha Sucks At Her Job!" is a very bold episode title.

-Shleeby time Tsubasa. I hope you get yoself a spotlight episode soon. You've been due for one.

-Burning the candle at both ends, I see Ageha-neesan.

-Oh nooooooo!

-He's headed off.

-Oh fuck, she's a Korok now.

-He leavin'...

-Poor kid...

-I feel like a "You wanna talk about it" might help

-Jiiiiiii

-Oh... yeah, you'd know all about rough goodbyes, huh Ageha-san? Mashiro-chan?

-Sora, I don't think nursery school teachers need to know how to shatter a car with their bare hands. ...at least, not unless they're working at Senor Cardgage's Puddin Patch.

-Being there for kids in rough situations...

-That's a wonderful reason to be a teacher.

-I guess that is pretty dang heroic.

-Fighting for Takeru-kun's smile...

-Hewwo, Tsubasa. I hope you didn't accidentally eat anything in there.

-WEIRDO

-DUDE

-I have to admit, this is a great little character moment, but where the fuck are you gonna go, Tsubasa?

-Babby time

-...less than five seconds of babby time, apparently.

-Raaaaaaaain!

-This feels inaccurate, whenever it'd rain during recess or playtime the other kids would act like there's a category 5 hurricane sweeping through.

-The tunnel...

-*Sniff*

-The sun clears...

-Oh hello, Skeebo.

-"Get outta here!"

-Kyoborg!

-Time to rake some leaves.

-Just like the 20s point~! Wing and Butterfly, striking out on their own!

-No team up declaration this week?

-Wasting no time, there's kids in danger.

-I'm just constantly in awe of how

-Controlled Majesty's moves are.

-Get used to it, lad. She's a mid season Cure.

-Even when fucked up, Butterfly stands tall.

-Skeebo's incorporated "no going near children" into his tactical planner.

-M

-Ms. Ageha was Ageha?

-OH YOU

-"A bit of vulnerability goes a long way~!"

-Farewell, Sorashido City.

-For you, Takeru-kun! A shower of butterflies!

-That was great.

-Baby Mashiron...

-Tree, huh?

-We Splash Star now?

-Itty bitty baby Mashiron~! How adorable~!

-The hook!

-Heart~!

-What the hell happened, you ask? Good question~!

-Necessary action wipes~!

-Big mountains~!

-They turn brown because the chlorophyll they use to absorb sunlight breaks down, y'know.

-I see Yoyo is of little need to help.

-Big girls~!

-Chickens....

-"Treeless...?"

-That's a goat.

-Baaaaaa...

-Resist the temptation, Tsubasa-kun!

-Very gorgeous landscapes.

-Back on home we go!

-That damn wind stole our hat!

-Oh! All the way down there!

-Deliciousmile...

-Stuck up in that tree...

-Adding more to Elle's odd abilities, we now have instantaneous detail spotting.

-Oh, that's a new eyecatch isn't it?

-Cut down a long time ago...

-The hospital

-Clobbered by a squirrel.

-Ohhhhhhhh, a squirrel nest...

-A worthy sacrifice...

-The swings...

-Get in that frame, boy!

-Skeebo's done playing around.

-Scarecrow time.

-...lotsa fall themed beasties right now.

-Whoa

-Nice save there, son.

-Whoa, I never noticed, but Butterfly's gloves get so light.

-Otsukare, Prism~!

-"The reason behind your demise is irrelevant, Pretty Cure. It happening is all I ask."

-A whole bunch of happy memories...

-This was also a very cute episode, I love getting to know these guys more, even now.

-Oh no, not the Bright Jewel! ...which is apparently important!

-Uhhh, anyway! Join us next time!

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh holy holy heck this chapter is SO DAMN EXCITING hehehe I had sosososo much writing and doing all the research!! please let me know if there is anything factual/cultural that I need to fix! I tried the best I could although I most def am not an expert in Egyptian culture so I appreciate it a lot :) hehe i hope ya have fun reading this chapter teehee oh! also I love hearing what you thought of it too! :D 

Four 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, several mentions of food and alcohol as well as getting tipsy/drunk that good, good making out, suggestive themes

CWs: mentions of guns, mentions of knives, themes of jealousy (expressed by the reader) 

Word count: 7.5k

Parts 

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE 

“Well, we’re in Cairo alright.” 

Two tugged the amazed young stow-away-student, Seungmin, by the hand of his backpack to keep him from running into one of the palm tree planters decorating the terminal. The young man had nearly slept the whole flight due to the length as well as the exasperation that he had just been through. While his eyes were still darkened from his nap, his glossy pupils still wondered all around him. 

“I take it back. I’m so glad that I almost died so I could end up here with you guys.” 

Jeongin slapped him from the backside of his head. “Never be thankful for almost dying. Life is a lot more fucking fragile than you think. This isn’t just some joyride--” 

“--Ease up F.” You interrupted your partner as you shouldered your bag. The kid had already been through enough already: he didn’t need accosting on top of it all. 

The dashing prince sighed out and stretched his arms. “Ahhhh Cairo. It’s been a while; too long actually.” 

The airport was humid: the kind of sticky warmth that dripped down your neck in a matter of seconds to then get caught above your lip. It wasn’t much help to the anxiety that already had seeped into your veins. The closer you got to a gun the more comfortable you would be. You and the other two guards created a formation around the prince with two in the front and the other in the flank. While each of you were dressed in regular street clothes, your responsibility of his detail still hung over your head with a severe air. 

Chan threw his arm over the young student with an obscene grin. His hair had become a little disheveled from the plane seat and his hoodie, but he didn’t appear to mind. Seeing him so normal was somewhat of an odd change to your previous unbreakable impression of him. 

“Seungmin my friend, you’ve never lived until you’ve been to Cairo. I’ve never seen another place so enriched in history in my whole life...it puts my kingdom to shame. It’s almost like...you can just feel the time here: hundreds of thousands of years...beauty, art, food, industry...I’ve got a thing or two to learn.” 

Seungmin nodded at the prince’s grandiose gestures in the terminal with an enamored smile. “I can’t wait to see it!” 

Your partner put a firm hand on the prince’s back to guide him to the baggage claim. “We won’t be here for long, so, don’t get too excited. We’ve come here for one reason and we shouldn’t dally otherwise.” 

The young boy appeared to frown, and Two bit his lip with a little chuckle. “Way to crush the kids dreams F.” 

“You know the mission, J.” Jeongin gritted his teeth with the words. “Everything is set, there will be a car waiting for us in the garage, and at the hotel we’ll have anything we need.” 

Prince Chan lulled his head back with heels clicking on the flooring. Rogue strands of his hair hung over his sunglasses where he threw a look back at you while pulling them down. 

“Don’t forget our little deal Bee? We’ll have time for a little pleasure.” 

The white haired agent rolled his eyes with gusto then adjusted the royal’s glasses over his face. “We’ve still got to be careful, you Highness. We never know where they could have eyes.” 

“I know where I’ve got mine...” He turned back once more to throw his cockiness in your general direction. 

“Listen to F, your Highness...if you want to live.” 

“Oooo. Feisty as ever, Bee. I love it when you bite back.” Chan turned to his new pet, Seungmin, “She’s really something isn’t she?”

The young man nodded, but not necessarily because he agreed, but it just seemed like it better to agree with a prince than to disagree with him. 

The air appeared to turn even thicker in the summery and arid city and your group approached the parking lot half shaded. Outside of the cement lot, iridescent waves of heat wiggled on the horizon, and further, the astonishing urban sprawl of Cairo, and just over it, the stretch of the Nile and Giza. Palms and other varieties of plants spotted the landscape and above it all, a perfectly crystal blue sky streaked with thin clouds. Had the circumstances been different, you really would have wished to have been there for pleasure. 

“This one. Right here.” Jeongin announced upon spotting the black armored sedan. It wasn’t the most inconspicuous vehicle, but you were prioritizing safety over aesthetics. Your partner touched his index fingerprint to the car door’s invisible panel, and it flashed blue just as the lock had at the safehouse with the ticking clock insignia. 

Two whipped his head around to make one last check of the surroundings before taking off his sunglasses and reddened eye. “Get in. Both of you.” He urged the prince and the student. He popped the drivers side open to find a different pair of glasses in the storage compartment: gold framed aviators. 

“Huh,” He said happily while putting them on. “This is more my style.” He rummaged around a bit more to find a new pair of black framed glasses there too. “Fox! Think fast!” He threw them over to your partner who sighed out with relief. 

“Thank god.” 

The trunk opened with a mechanical sounding creek, and you lifted up the trunk bed to find your whole arsenal: Heckler & Koch MP5′s submachines, Remington 870 shotguns, and Glocks complete with thigh holsters. Among the pile of metal, various knives and other weapons were held in foam holders. 

“They’ve got knives back there?” Two asked while pulling the rearview mirror to see. 

“Oh yeah. What? You more of a knife guy?” You teased while looping your thigh holster over your cargo pants. It fit just right. 

The illusive man popped his gum with a shiny smile. “‘Don’t ever have to reload them...that’s what I’m saying.” 

“Thank you Carroll.” Jeongin sighed upon seeing the thick laptop among the weapons. “Finally I can do some real work. That kid’s damn Chromebook was killing me. I nearly short circuited it trying to connect to our network.” 

“You what?!” Seungmin was suddenly much more interested. 

“Dont worry yourself too much, its still fine.” 

“Are there cameras in here?” You quickly asked your partner. 

“Agency should’ve fried them a long time ago. Why?” 

From the trunk bed you sized up the Glock to feel its weight and how cool it settled into your sweating hand. You unloaded the magazine to see that it had already been filled. 

“Carroll. She really is too kind to us.” You slid the magazine back in then, pulled back the slider to lock it once more, catching Chan’s adoring glance. 

“Something interesting pretty boy?” 

The prince appeared to shiver a little, but brushed it off sighing, “Oh, nothing.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Either it was Carroll or the King, but someone had spared no expense on the young prince. The sun set upon the sparking Nile where you had arrived at the Four Seasons Hotel Cairo at Nile Plaza. 

Anything for His Royal Highness The Prince. 

The towering and gleaming building was a sight to behold in and of itself. It was nestled right into the riverside anchored with several leisurely sailboats bopping in the evening breeze. As day crept into night, the city grew with a swell of lights washing as far as you could see. Extensive bridges and roadways glowed with headlights and every building appeared to be illuminated along with more boats strolling down the river in a rainbow of colors and music. 

The prince craned his head as close to the window as he could and rubbed together his hands excitedly. He looked from you to your partners, finally making a disapproving scoff. 

“Come on. You’re not just a little excited to be here?” 

“We’re here on business, how many times do we have to explain?” Jeongin typed away at his computer from the front seat. 

“Bee?” He looked back to you with a hopeful little glint to his eye. 

“Like Fox said...tomorrow is our appointment with White Rabbit, then we’re on the first flight back home for you.” 

The young prince frowned, but this quickly faded once he had seen the golden brass doors to the magnificent hotel. Seeing the state that the four of you were in, it was a bit comical that you had rolled up to a place such as this. Immediately a valet and bellhop jogged up to the car wearing perfectly pressed uniforms and spotless shined shoes. Little did they know you had no belongings to your name...the rest was waiting in your suite: the royal kind. 

Seungmin cranked his neck to take in the scale of the building in all of it’s regal glory and let out an airy laugh his with his backpack straps snapped tight. 

“Holy shit.” He exclaimed with a giant smile 

Two rose a “no thank you” hand to the valet, and asked him where the garage was in perfect Arabic. The gesture surprised you...as many things did with that man. Jeongin gave a little nod in appreciation to the bellhop and expressed with his own broken version of Arabic that you group had no luggage. The young man was confused, but still gladly took the bills that Jeongin had slipped into his hand for the inconvenience. 

“We’re staying here?” Seungmin wondered while he followed you in. 

“When you travel with The Prince, it comes with some perks.” Chan tore off his glasses with a particularly prideful grin. 

“I feel like I need to pay for just...breathing in here.” 

Indeed, it was a luxurious and grand place. The atrium was patterned with various plush lounge chairs and benches and the path was made of emerald green marble tiles with swirling designs of beige loops. Thick, round columns also supported the ceilings in the lobby, and crystal glass chandeliers sparkled. On several tables, massive floral arrangements had been freshly placed, and you wondered how much the hotel must've paid for them to look that good just to have them replaced the next day. 

A couple formalities were exchanged with the worker at the front desk, and soon the keycards to the royal suite were placed into your hands. Seungmin held his piece of plastic as if it were a gold bar in his hands whereas Chan shoved it right into his front pocket. 

“Everything that we should need should be up in the room.” You told the group who were too distracted to hear what you had just said. 

Just before you had entered the elevator, a tug at your sleeve stopped you in your tracks. Jeongin pulled you back, nodding at Two to go with the others up first. 

“Remember what we talked about before?” He muttered in the hollow and stone corridor. “About the prince?” 

“I need to stay beside him?” 

Your partner nodded with a furrowing brow. “We’re out in the open here, it’s a big city...anyone could be watching us. No distractions, no messing around, no anything. We see White Rabbit and we leave. Hell, I’m even inclined to make sure he doesn’t leave the room...” 

“Jeongin...” You squeezed your partner’s shoulder which felt stringy and tense under your fingertips. “I got it. Trust me. He won’t leave my sight. I promise.” 

“..Okay.” He said with a nervous brush to his hair, then he pressed the elevator button with his knuckle. 

“You...okay?” 

The young man appeared to snap out of a trance. “What? ...Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m keeping it together fine. It’s just...there’s a lot riding on this mission. I don’t...” 

The gold and reflective elevator dinged to the ground floor. 

“We can’t disappoint Carroll with this one. There’s too much riding on it...I can’t disappoint Carroll.”      

You invited your partner into the marbled and mirrored interior of the small space. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━ 

 Even without the help of his royal helpers, Chan managed to clean himself up nice...provided, only the finest clothes had been sent for him to wear. While they weren’t the usual designer labels that he was used to, it was clear that they had been picked out from the finest markets and boutiques in the area. Chan, as he always was, was a prince to the full extent of the word. After a shower and some perfume to his chest, he was the same man that you had been introduced to. 

A loose linen shirt swayed from his frame with little regard for the usage of buttons. He wore slacks that had been pressed made of a kind of fabric that you had never seen before, but looked airy and comfortable. As always, there was a small assortment of shoes for him to choose from as well. He picked brown leather loafers, then tucked up his sleeves to reveal his arms; scratched as they were, but still strong and spiderwebbed with thick veins. 

Arrangements had been made for you to share one of the bedrooms with him--as much as you had fought it at first. Chan was thrilled with the idea, and gladly let you settle into his room with your small assortment of sidepieces and modest set of clothes by regulation of The Agency. While it had mostly been denim button downs and several kinds of functional trousers, they had sent an evening gown. 

The silky white fabric was not unlike the dress that had worn for the gala, but it appeared to be even more sultry once you held it to your frame. The thin spaghetti straps barely held to your shoulders and the back dipped nearly halfway down your back. 

Knowing the man that you had an appointment with, you figured the dress would make it just a little bit easier to talk to him. Along with it, there was a matching set of diamond earrings and a necklace that glinted with the same sheen of the sea. 

“You’ll look gorgeous in that.” Chan said while slipping on a wristwatch. “I’m sure that it will suit you perfectly.” 

The wooden bedside nightstand creaked when you put your holster and Glock in with a matching matte black knife. You had to be careful with that one, as it had nearly cut your finger upon inspection earlier.         

“Hm. I think the both of us know that you’d prefer it on these lovely marble floors rather than on me. Correct?” 

The confident prince strode across the room in the dim lighting of a couple lamps with stained glass shades. Outside of the balcony attached to your room, the sheer curtains blew in the night air and distorted the city lights across the river. Further, Cairo Tower surged with a pink light wrapping around the length were the cylinder pierced the sky. 

“Maybe.” He tutted, then crinkled the king-sized bed where he sat. The prince’s disposition was alluring, there was no denying. He tiled his head to inspect you further, jaw clenching with a sharp angle and a testing glare to his brown pupils. The man smiled slightly while rubbing his index and ring finger down the sleeve of your considerably less scratchy blouse. 

“I hope that during our time here Bee, I’ll get to know you a little better. I’m...really looking forward to our drink later. I made reservations for us.” 

“Reservations? When did you do that?” 

“Oh. When you were showering.” He smirked at his sneaky plans unbeknownst to you. 

“If you think that I’m letting you go anywhere else besides this hotel--” 

“--Bee?” The young royal grew quieter, softer, careful even. His hand cascaded from your arm down to your waist where he tentatively went to grab at your hip and squeeze lightly there. 

While your first reaction was to swat him away, your second crept up on you unexpectedly, and swelled with a kind of confused euphoria feeling the pressure of him on your body. You let his hand linger there, thumb pressed into your hipbone. 

“You don’t need that dress to be beautiful.” 

His words snapped you back; sickly sweet, and sticky in your chest. You cast his hand off of you. 

“You’re crossing the line, your Highness. Don’t...don’t touch me again.” 

The royal sighed as he rose, then inspected his face in the sizeable mirror. Each of his cuts and scars had been skillfully covered with makeup the best he could manage.  

“Bee, I’d cross multiple lines for you. I thought you knew?”    

“THIS BED IS FUCKIN’ AMAZING!!” Seungmin called from the opposite of the suite. 

The prince smiled, then followed you to the door. 

“I’ve already got enough on my hands, your Highness. I ask that you not distract me.” 

“Distract you?” 

As soon as you had said it, regret bit at the tips of your ears. You couldn’t meet his teasing glances, but rather slid one of your more discrete sidepieces into your crossbody bag--as if guns as such could be such a thing. 

“I-I...I’ll sleep on the couch.” You then resolved out loud, however the prince chuckled at your sudden break. 

“As you wish Bee.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“I think that this is the best meal that I’ve ever eaten in my entire life!!” 

Seungmin kicked his legs under the table to the embarrassed glances of both Jeongin and Chan. Before you, the prince had ordered a variety of both cold and hot mezzah dishes with a couple main entrees for you to share. While he was the only one to drink, he indulged in the most expensive wine that the hotel had to offer. Granted, everything would be paid for in cash from The Agency, however the Prince swore up and down that anyone could order anything that they wanted and that The Agency would be paid back in full. You and your partners ate modestly, however the young student didn’t hold back. As the boy shoved his face, it appeared to make the prince happy to see him eating so well. 

You were still an odd group, and garnered curious glances from other restaurant guests. While they were only glances in passing, they still didn’t make you feel any better. You had already drawn enough attention to yourself with you being an odd mix of foreigners who each held themselves differently. You could sense that you partner felt it too while he sipped at his seasonal soup with eyes up to scan the room as he did so. 

Chan threw his arm behind your chair to take in the rest of the room: perfectly decorated with jade green chandeliers and perfectly symmetrical wallpaper and furnishings. It was as if he felt somehow content with your strange little group; like he was the ringleader of it all or some king of the round table. For a moment, he paused to watch the way that the boats passed by on the river from the window nearest to him and sighed. Knowing him, he was probably enjoying running for his life in this way. 

Two cleared his throat and unbuttoned his fashionable suit jacket as the waiters came to clear the table for dessert. 

“So. What are the specs for tomorrow?” 

Jeongin fiddled with his glasses, then dabbed away at the corners of his mouth. “He’s invited us to come around 11pm. He wants us to dress up too--as I’m sure you’ve all seen the clothes that have been provided for us. He apparently loves his formalities, but, anything to make him feel more comfortable I suppose. His men will meet us in the front and take us to him, then we try our best not to fuck it up.”

“--Which we won’t.” You soothed your partner. 

Seungmin perked up, “I’m coming too?” 

“How else are we going to look after ya, kid?” Two ruffled up the young man’s hair. 

“W-wait. Didn’t you say that it’s a club? Will they even let me in? I’m not like, 21 yet? I mean, I will be in a couple months--” 

“--Ahhh you’re so cute.” Chan beamed. “If you’re rolling with us that doesn’t matter.” 

Seungmin blushed and played with the condensation of his water glass. “Oh.” 

Your partner shifted in his seat. “Speaking of. Considering that you’re “one of us” now. We need to discuss something important with you. Your identity.” He looked over to you to finish the rest of the speech that had been pushed off for just a bit too long. 

“Your name...is your most valuable asset. It’s the only thing about yourself that you can keep for yourself. No one else should know it besides you...and, well, us. If they know your name, they know your family, they know where you live, where you go to school, even that girl that you had a crush on in the fourth grade. Got it?” 

Seungmin gulped dry with blown out eyes. “I-I think that I understand.” 

“What do you want us to call you from now on?” 

He paused, considering towards the ceiling. ”Well...if you’re B, and he’s F...and he’s J...I could be S? Simple enough right?” 

“S it is then.” 

The waiters arrived with every dessert possible: chocolate cake, Crème Brule, fruit cheesecake garnished with mint, as well as traditional desserts like Om Ali and Mehalabiya--a type of milk pudding dressed with delicate, pink, edible flowers. 

Seungmin--now dubbed S--made happy little eating sounds while he tried a little bit of everything. 

“Thank you.” You finally spoke to the prince, who now smelled strongly of Lotus and Jasmine. 

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind treating my friends.” 

The word hung in the air, and you didn’t quite know what to do with it. 

Friends. 

“Where is this reservation that you mentioned?” 

He took a swing from his crystal glass with finesse. “Hm. That’s for me to know and you to find out.” 

“Jeongin told me that I need to keep an eye on you, you know that? It would be best if we didn’t leave the hotel at all--” 

“--But what would be the fun in that?” The prince nearly pouted. 

From the others side of the table, Two in his aviators brushed off his lap before standing. “I’m going to get some sleep, if that’s alright with you? I’m feeling pretty jetlagged and I want to be prepared for tomorrow. Excuse me.” 

The slender man bowed to you at the table, then even deeper to the prince. 

“What was that about?” Jeongin muttered while he poked at the thin caramel layer of his French dessert. 

“Actually, I think I want to head to bed too, I’m stuffed.” Seungmin rubbed his belly in his contentment. “Also...I think I might have homework due...heh. I don’t know...I’ve got to figure out all these all these time differences and stuff.” He pushed in his chair then gave the prince a deep bow. “Thank you, your Highness.” 

“My pleasure.” Chan said with a tiny bow back. “Rest up, kid.” 

With the empty holes at the table, the silence was deafening. 

“And then there were three.” Jeongin yawned. “Bee? Wanna do some laps in the morning? I saw that they had a pool? Wanna see if you can beat my record...again?” 

“Psh. I was coming off that biochemical cocktail the last time we tired. You had an advantage.” 

“Then you’ll beat me? Hm! I look forward to that.” Your adorable partner flashed the first smile that you’d seen in a couple days. You missed it, you realized. 

“Sleep tight Bee. Goodnight your Highness.” 

“Thank you Fox.” The prince mirrored his warm smile. 

Knives and forks clinked on china in the dining room, and music softly payed the soundtrack of the evening. A low hum filled the space where the tourists and patrons chatted among themselves. It was peaceful and normal amidst everything that had been pricking your skin and plaguing worry over your mind. The prince merely sighed, sparking eyes reflecting the candles dying out on the table. 

“And now it’s just the two of us.” 

“Seems like it.” 

“Can I whisk you away now?” 

“Whisk? Who said that I would allow any whisking?” 

“Come on...Bee. Just this one time? I promise to be on my best behavior.” 

You laughed out incredulously at the comment. “You out of all people can’t promise something like that.” 

“I guess you’re right about that. But...still, I won’t try to make a scene or anything.” 

The royal placed his napkin on the table with his knife and fork respectfully tilted off the edge of his plate. 

“Follow me?” 

Chan held out his hand. It was pink with heat and scraped a little from the glass that had pierced the fragile flesh. In some way, you had felt a twinge of guilt seeing the small injury knowing that you couldn’t have protected him well enough then. You allowed him to lace your fingers with yours, and felt the rough cuts of his scars in your palm. 

You had promised to yourself that he would never know such pain again. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“Annnd...this is it!” 

You had taken all of twenty paces outside of the hotel when Chan gestured with open arms to the riverfront. Just at the riverbank, a steamboat was anchored with open doors for hotel guests to enter. The massive, multideck, white steamboat shone like the moon peaking at the ocean’s horizon. Each of the semi-circle windows were lined with white lights and from the inside, the delightful sound of laugher and live music spilled out to the glossy water of the Nile. 

“W-what is this?” 

“Well…it’s a dinner cruise but I just signed us up for the bar part. Are you...surprised? I thought that it must be pretty safe considering that we’re on the water and no one can drive up and shoot at us.” 

“I mean...it’s a bit closed off, but nothing that I can’t handle.” 

The prince held out his arm for you to lead the way, then took your hand to help you watch your step down the stairs. Chan provided his name to the conductor in elegant sounding Arabic, leaving you shocked. 

“Y-you speak Arabic too?” 

Chan chuckled once more, taking your hand in his to bring you down the creaking wood deck with swinging with lanterns above your heads. 

“As a royal and diplomat, it’s best for me to know how to communicate if I might need to.” 

“I must say your Highness, I am definitely impressed.” 

“What? You thought I was just another pretty face?” The charming prince escorted you to a room within the steamboat that was lined with red velvet carpets and small bar tables with tea candles and water lilies floating in a shallow dish. He pulled out your chair before his own, then settled with hands folded in his lap. “I’m trained in hand-to-hand too, although I could use a refresher; that was so long ago, back when I went to school.” 

“Hand-to-hand? Well! You really are full of surprises.” 

The prince appeared smug and faintly amused by the compliment as he crossed his legs under the table and leaned in with his dizzying floral scent. 

The waitress appeared and Chan flexed his language skills once more while he ordered a Hemmingway Daiquiri for himself and a French 75 for you. Somewhere off in the distance or perhaps a different part of the boat, louder and more excitable music played along with the echoing claps of those who listened along. Here, it was much quieter, and the loud sound was replaced with a jazz song that you had heard before--likely from your more formative years. 

“It’s a beautiful night.” Chan began, “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me. I know that I’ve been a bit forward, but, I appreciate you entertaining me.” 

“If I had said no, what would’ve happened then?” 

“Well, maybe I would’ve dropped it, but...knowing you...I don’t think that I would’ve given up easily.” 

The waitress returned with the drinks on a silver platter: his grapefruit pink and yours the color of a lemon drop. 

The royal rose his glass for you to clink with yours, “To...adventures.” 

“To adventures.” 

With a resounding sound, the glasses met, and you watched the way that the shimmering liquid ripped across the prince’s nose. 

The two of you sat for several moments more, saying nothing, but sipping and soaking in the night breeze and the humidity that made your whole body feel blanketed with a sense of calm. You had felt this way before back at the safe house, and it snuck up on you once more. Simply exisiting with the prince provided you with a sense of solace that had long since faded from your life. The sense of responsibility that you felt for the man was noticeable, but you couldn’t help but notice how he provided for you the same sense of safety that you did for him. 

Perhaps it was the loneliness of the job and the solitude that came along with it. Was that you craved to be touched? Listened to? Admired? You had distanced yourself from irrational things such as love and other feelings of attachment. In your line of work, people died often, and you had to move on just as fast as their lives had been taken from them. You supposed that you had become unfeeling at this point...but this prince, so full of himself and focused on the material...there was something about him that reminded you how to feel. 

“Bee? What are you thinking about?” He asked carefully. 

“Oh...nothing.” 

“You looked kind of lost here.” 

“Was I?” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah...yeah. I’m fine. Maybe the drink is just...getting to me.” 

“Just one drink?” Chan giggled a bit, “I didn’t take you for being a lightweight Bee. I thought that they gave you like, drinking lessons or something back at that agency of yours.” 

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have more than one drink anyway.” 

The prince nodded, understanding. “So, what will you tell me about yourself? Is there anything that you’re allowed to tell me? Or...will you always be this mysterious, beautiful, enigma?” 

“Me? Enigmatic? Ha! Hardly.” 

“Well? What then?” The prince sucked at the lime garnishing his glass. “Since I don’t have the pleasure of knowing your real name, I’d love it if you could tell me something.” 

Over the stereo, the muted trumpet played along with the twang of thick upright bass strings,

“I suppose I could tell you how...” Chan leaned in, “I didn’t want to join The Agency. At first.” 

“Oh? Why’s that?” 

“It felt like a bit of a last resort and anything that is a last resort is something that can’t come easy.” 

Chan titled his head as if to say, I’m listening. 

“Life...fucking sucks sometimes. Sometimes...you’re left...living with your sleazy uncle with a letter addressed to you post mortem telling you to carry on the family name if you want to feel some connection to the parents that you never knew.” 

The royal cast his eyes down, “I-I’m so sorry.” 

“The Agency has been everything I’ve known since I was a teenager. This life...it’s everything. I think in a way I feel obligated to it...since it was what took my parents from me...I owe it to them to do a job that they spent so much energy on so that it wasn’t in vain.” 

You stopped, realizing the weight of your words in the air and how they cut like the blade of the knife that you kept tucked in your waistband sheathed in a leather cover. Once the sharp metal was taken from it’s confines, there was nothing to protect those from the damage it could do. 

“Bee...I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. That’s terrible. I can’t imagine what it must be like to loose your parents and have been thrown into this life...no one deserves that.” 

“Its okay.” You sighed. “I did it to myself. Now, it’s of no concern. I can take care of my own, and I have a new family. I try not to look back.” 

As he had done numerous times before that night, Chan’s hand reached out for yours under the table, brushing up against the white cloth. 

“I can’t say how much I appreciate you enough for what you do; risking your life for me...I owe you everything Bee.” The prince softened, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. 

The chug of the steamboat hissed softly behind you in that back bar room, and just through the windows, you could see the stars dotting the sky just as they did in any corner of the world. They were a reminder that while some things changed, others didn’t. 

The echo of footsteps on the deck clicked, causing you to turn a careful glance back to the direction of the sound. The man who entered was dressed in a casual cotton button up and navy slacks. On the white of his breast, he wore a pin holding the symbol of a crest.

“Lee Minho?” Chan gasped. 

“Your Highness!” The handsome man bowed immediately with a startled little smile. 

The friendly prince stood immediately upon seeing the other royal to shake his hand. “What a coincidence that we meet again!” 

Lee Minho shied with a polite smile while fiddling with his hair that looked to be masterfully styled. “Must be...fated. Or something like that.” 

“Are you alright? Last I saw you was at the shooting at the gala. I’m so glad to see that you’re safe. You didn’t get injured I hope?” 

This close, Lee Minho had oddly cat-like eyes that were as intense as they were alluring. He was just as you had remembered him to be--put together and polished like a true royal, dastardly handsome with all the right curves to his body, and just enough mystery to him to pique the interest of anyone who had sensed his air--just as the prince had. 

“What are you doing in Cairo?” Chan asked, gesturing for the stranger to pull up a chair. 

Lee Minho swatted away the question with an annoyed cringe. “Royal stuff, you know how it goes. Everyone is always trying to poke their noses in places where they shouldn’t be...unless they’re looking to get themselves killed. That's why they send me. I’m dispensable.” 

“Oh, I’d hardly say that.” 

In seconds the prince’s entire body had shifted towards the direction of the other man, and hung onto each of his words as if they were a siren song. 

“When you’re not as high up in the ranks as you are your Highness, royalty starts to feel more like servitude than a legitimate position.” 

“So, where are you poking your nose?” 

Lee Minho’s eyes nervously flicked to you, and Chan realized that he had skipped right over introductions. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce the two of you. Minho, this is Bee, my--” 

“--I’m a member of his detail.” You spoke for him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally Lee Minho. I recall seeing you at the gala.” 

Minho bowed slightly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” 

It was obvious that you had made the man uncomfortable, just as you had liked it to be. While you could see what the prince had seen in him, you had the disposition to be much less trusting than his Highness. 

“Which royals are employing you? I’d love to know! It’s always exciting for me to learn about who is plotting what. The royal drama keeps me really entertained.” 

Minho sat up straighter, then waved a hand for the waitress to come scuttling over. 

“Some of my family members. You wouldn’t know them, we’re all dreadfully insignificant to be honest. They heard all this business about those men with the red crests and they’re starting to get scared. After they targeted...you, they’re wondering which royal family might be next...if any. I’m here to find out who they are, their whereabouts, anything else.” 

“Wow! That’s actually what we--”

“--And where are you planning on getting this information if I may ask?” You hushed the prince’s loose lips as quickly as you could. 

Minho leaned in over the flickering candle to lower his tone, “I heard that there’s an informant here in the city who might now something about this group. They’ve been popping up on national news too as of late. I’m looking to talk to him tomorrow evening. Luckily, I was able to make an appointment but it was no small feat. I had to bribe him to high hell to get him to speak with me.” 

“Hm. Sounds familiar.” You mumbled. 

Chan’s eyes widened, then he looked back to you to ask for permission. You gave him a nod.

“It seems like we’re here for a common purpose my friend.” The prince leaned in to bridge the gap between them, his hand notably reaching to rest on the other man’s thigh below the table’s surface. “We’re seeking similar information and I think we might be speaking of the same informant.” 

“But your Highness, isn’t it dangerous it you to do something like this?” 

“Not when I’ve got her around.” Chan threw a sly grin to you across the table. “I’m well protected. And you? Where’s your detail?” 

“I’m afraid that I’m out here alone. Like I said, when you’re as low in the ranks as I am...” 

“What? That’s terrible!! They aren’t even protecting their own? Bee!!” 

“Yes, your Highness?” You already knew where this was going. 

“Let’s bring Minho along with us tomorrow! We know that there’s safety in numbers--” 

“Your Highness, in case you haven’t noticed, our hands are already a bit full...”

“I can fend for myself.” Lee Minho suddenly piped. “Travelling alone, I’ve picked up a few things about protecting myself. You don’t have to protect me, but, I appreciate the offer.” 

“Nonsense! You should come with us! I would feel more comfortable if you did rather than went by yourself.” 

Lee Minho gave the royal a smile in his thanks, it was pure and a little adorable you had considered...but that was likely the champagne going to your head. 

“Really? I appreciate it, your Highness.” 

While you were distanced, you nearly could’ve sworn that the prince had squeezed the other’s leg reassuringly, and you were willing to bet he had rubbed it with his thumb too just as he had done to you. 

After long, the waitress returned with Lee Minho’s drink, and the two men chatted like old college buddies while you slipped away at your drink in an attempt to make it last as long as you could. While Chan did try to engage you in conversation, it would never last for long until he would become puppy-eyed over the stranger again. In the end, you wondered if the tipsy prince would’ve also confessed to this man if he had one too many drinks. 

The table bumped with their jovial and restless legs, and you could only imagine what wandering hands sought to discover. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The hotel was quiet save for the click of heels on the marble floors from ladies who had just gotten off the steamboat and clung to their husbands in their drunken stupor. They cackled in the empty and golden lobby, then pressed hasty kisses into the stuttering mouths of their husbands who’s mouths then smeared with hot pick lipstick. Chan giggled at the sight while he tripped over his own feet too. 

“Ahhhh. Being in love is so cute.” He adored them once you had entered the elevator. 

“You’re not going to throw up on me, are you?” 

The prince hiccupped, then shook his head. “Unlike you I know how to hold my liquor. I’m fine. Just a bit sleepy I think. Must be the jet lag.” 

The tones for each floor beeped in the compartment, and Chan lulled his head back and forth. 

“So. Lee Minho huh?” You said, not even able to help yourself. The alcohol had brought you a bit of an edge...so you thought. 

“Lee. Minho.” He sighed out dreamily. “What do you think of him?” 

“I think I can’t trust anyone as long as I haven’t ran at least three background checks on them.” 

“Awww, Bee, you’re so thoughtful of me.” 

In the empty hallway, the prince with squinting eyes leaned against the doorframe to the royal suite, reaching out to brush up against your blouse once more. You let him, excusing his drunken state. After he did so, his eyes hazed over with something much different, while he looked exhausted, it was laced with something else: something much more longing. 

“Bee...fuck, I really want to kiss you again.” 

“Hm. That’s ripe coming from you who was just viciously flirting with Lee Minho.” 

You could see his head spinning in his dilated pupils. “What?” 

The door clicked open and you less than gracefully lead the prince through the dark to your shared bedroom. 

“B-Bee, what are you talking about?” 

You scoffed, “I’m not blind, you know.” 

“A-are you...jealous?” 

“W-what? Fuck no. I’m just...you can’t just...toss people around thinking that they’ll all bend to you.” 

Chan sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed at his temples when you turned one of the lamps on. 

“I-I was doing that?” 

You tore a pillow from the bed as well as the throw blanket at the end. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Good evening, your Highness.” 

“Wait! Bee!” The young prince stumbled after you, stubbing his toe against the bedpost in the process. “Ah-FUCK!” He grunted. 

“What?” You growled back to him, half shrouded in the darkness of the suite living room. 

The royal stumbled out, eyes blank and backlit from the bedroom. While you couldn’t see him fully, you later could assume that there was something in him terribly torn and ripped in that moment that made little sense to him, as it did to you to. 

Arms reached out, bodies softly illuminated by the lights of the city, and the prince leaned himself fully into you, pressing bitter tasting lips to yours with a heat and desire that only seemed amplified the breather he had gotten. While he tasted of lime and grapefruits, with a twinge of alcohol. He was just as addictive as any vice. You wanted to feel him. As infuriating as he was, and oblivious, your abhorrence to him was just as strong as your attraction. 

“Mm, Bee--” He moaned directly into your mouth while shuffling both of you back to the bedroom. 

The prince’s trembling breath floated from his mouth to yours where he used both of his large hands to pull your face closer to his. You knew that in some way, there must have been something ingenuine about the whole scenario, but you didn’t care too much, not when kissing him felt like something. Maybe he had kissed you out of pity, or because he really had wanted to kiss you. You broke for seconds before both of your tangled limbs hit the bed. 

“Before...you said that you wouldn’t kiss me.” 

“I didn’t make any promises...but, how come...you said that you wouldn’t hesitate...? But you kissed ba--” 

You silenced the prince’s words with your own heated kisses that made little sense, only that kissing him as such felt good. You straddled the man while his hungry fingers traced all the way down your back. The prince’s hips sunk into the cushiony mattress, and you screwed him down even harder into it with your own heated hips grinding into him with as much pressure as you could muster. 

“This is what you want, right?” You pulled at his lip with your teeth to hear him groan from it. 

“Is it...what you want?” Chan got out between more kisses. 

You could blame it on loneliness or lack of touch all that you wanted, but it wasn’t even close. 

“Wait. Wait.” Chan suddenly interjected. 

“What? What is it?” 

The prince looked up at you, that haze in his eyes now fading to something much different that wasn’t covered in the lust that he held before. 

“Bee...I-I don’t know if I want it to happen this way. It feels...it’s not...” 

“Not what?” 

He brushed his hand upward now to caress your face, lingering on the side of the peach fuzz on your cheek. “You deserve better than whatever the hell this is.” 

“Oh, so when I finally want to fuck you, you’re saying it isn’t right?” 

“I’m saying, I’m drunk, it’s late, clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you, and I want to know what it is before we do anything else. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

It might’ve been Lee fucking Minho, or it might’ve been something else much stickier for you to admit, but seeing the prince like this, it was too much. He was gorgeous under you, practically angelic looking. 

“I-I’m...complicating things.” You whispered out, and the prince softened even further. 

“That’s what it is? Bee, I told that you don’t have to worry about--” 

“--Yes. Yes I do...your Highness. I-I can’t feel...” 

“Bee--let’s just talk about--” 

The prince might’ve said more, but his words faded into murmurs once you closed his door behind you, then crawled onto the couch in Jeongin and Seungmin’s room, locking their door too. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

[stormfall1327]

My half of an art for fic trade with the amazing @newvegasorbust! I hope I did your V as much justice as you did mine! By the way, the plot was completely their idea. I only put it into words. <3 Thank you so much for this trade! Your ideas got me out of a writing rut and your art is incredible!  If you haven’t seen the art, check out thier blog or my previous post! You can also find the fic here on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29916810

‘Til the End

Fluff, Angst, Smut, Fem!V/Vik, Nomad V

The sun is beginning to set as V makes her way down the steps to Vik’s clinic. It’s a Thursday night like any other, a meeting of friends to watch old boxing re-runs over a beer (or three). They started this tradition a few months ago after V showed more than a passing interest during one of Vik’s stories about the good ‘ol days. In truth, she couldn’t care less about boxing, but she’d take any excuse to spend more time with the ripperdoc, regardless of what they were doing.

Sliding open the metal gates, she gives Vik a wave and a warm smile and heads back to the worn leather couch to settle in for tonight’s match, letting him finish whatever it is he’s working on. A few minutes later, he rounds the corner and plops down on the couch next to her with a sigh, handing over one of the beers he was carrying.

“Long day?,” V asks as she gratefully accepts the beer and takes a long pull.

“Eh, wasn’t so bad. Just gettin’ tired of these idiot gonks messing with tech they don’t understand and then bringing it to me to fix. Oh, well. Part of the job, I guess. Day’s better now, at any rate,” he says with a small smile, holding up his bottle to her. Her face flushes pink, wide eyes hidden behind her turquoise shades as she raises her own bottle to clink against his.

“So,” she says a little too loudly, “which match are we watching tonight?”

He stands to bring the screen around and set up the program. “Thought we’d hit something a little more recent tonight. Malone vs Hernandez.” Settling back in beside her as the recording starts, he nudges her shoulder and gestures at the screen with his beer. “Pay close attention, now…”

———

The match is full-swing, Vik sitting on the edge of the cushion, yelling at the screen when V feels her holo buzz. She glances down to see a familiar Aldecaldo logo appear.

Panam’s grainy image flickers to life on the screen. “V! It is good that you answered. I need your help. Again.”

V can’t help but laugh. “Of course, Panam! You know I wouldn’t turn down the chance to go on another crazy adventure with you. So, what grand scheme have you cooked up this time?,” she asks, taking another swig of beer.

Panam chuckles warmly. “No, nothing like that this time. I, well, the clan actually, has need of you and your ripper doctor. The one you always gush about.”

V’s face turns bright red and she whips her head around to look at Vik, eternally grateful that he’s still seemingly engrossed in the fight.

“I do not gush,” she hisses, turning her head back to glare at Panam through the screen.

“He is there with you now, yes?”

“Mhmm. Watchin’ boxing re-runs. Kind of a weekly tradition.”

“But you hate—” Panam’s voice is reduced to muffled nonsense as V covers the holo with her hand and quickly stands, smoothing her down her skirt. “Grabbin’ another beer. Getcha one?,” she asks, not quite pulling Vik’s attention away from the screen. He waves a hand at her. “Nah, I’m good, thanks. But hurry back, now. Don’t wanna miss the knock-out.”

“Back in a flash,” she says, making her way over to the mini-fridge across the room.

Once safely out of earshot, she removes her hand from the holo. “Hey! What the hell was that about?,” Panam calls out. V gives her a look over the top of her glasses. “You’re lucky I like you, Panam Palmer. Now what was it that you needed help with?”

“Oh, right! See, our clan’s ripper, Dusty, is being roped into performing surgery on a goddamn Raffen and his life is on the line, V. He’s out of his depth and well, I was hoping that you and Viktor would come out to the camp to help him out.”

“Shit, why didn’t you say so? ‘Course we’ll come. Vik’s the best ripper in NC. He’ll definitely be able to help. When is Dusty suppose to do this surgery?”

“Thank you, V! I knew I could count on you. He’s starting soon. You’ll need to head here right away. I’ll meet you at the edge of camp.” She gives V a nod and closes the link.

Heading back to couch, V stops when she see Vik staring at her, one eyebrow raised. “So, what was that about?”

“That? Oh, just talking to a friend of mine. Say, how would you like to take a nice ride out to the Badlands?”

Vik’s eyebrow just arches higher.

“So, look… I may have told a clan of Nomads about you and I may have also volunteered you to help perform a surgery at their camp. Tonight,” she adds, giving him a sheepish grin and running a hand through her hair.

He huffs out a laugh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I see. And I’m guessin’ I got no say in the matter?” Not that it would make a difference, he thinks. She has no idea how much she’s wrapped herself around his finger. He’d do damn near anything for her; he couldn’t tell her no.

“You always have a say, Vik. I just figured you’d jump at an opportunity like this. And besides, it’ll be nice to get out of the City for a change.”

“Fine, fine. When are we leaving?”

“As soon as you can pack a bag.”

———

It’s nearing nightfall, the desert wind still hot as it blows in through the open windows of V’s Thorton as they make their way to the Aldecaldo camp. Buckled into the passenger seat, much to his initial annoyance, Vik can’t help but marvel at her driving skills. She’s clearly in her element out here, tearing through the desert like it’s an open stretch of highway rather than a bumpy landscape of sand dunes and cacti. Daring a glance over at her, he sucks in a breath at the sight; wind-blown hair skittering across the tops of her shoulders, the low evening light casting her in an almost ethereal glow. She’s smiling again, fingers tapping out the beat of the song on the radio and damn it, if he doesn’t think she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Out here, away from the crushing oppression of the City, she’s vibrant and free and herself and in that moment, he’s smitten. But given everything she’s told him about her past, about her clan and the ultimate betrayal she endured at the hands of someone so close to her, he promised himself he’d keep things professional, for her sake. She needed someone she could trust and if resigning himself to being her ripper and her friend meant securing that trust, then he’d happily keep his feelings to himself.

He’s shaken from his thoughts as they come to a skidding halt at the edge of the Aldecaldo camp. V is out of the car and grabbing his bag before he even has time to unbuckle his seatbelt. Stepping out, he’s met by V and two others, rounding the hood of the car.

The man grabs his hand in a firm shake and lets out a whistle. “Well, hot damn. Didn’t think she’d actually manage to drag you all the way out here. Pleasure to meetcha. Name’s Mitch. This here’s Panam.” He motions behind him and the woman steps forward to shake his hand, as well. “You must be the famous ripperdoc we’ve heard about. V talks about you all the time. It is nice to meet you, Viktor,” she says with a warm smile. Vik laughs, the tips of his ears burning, and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Heh, I dunno about famous, but please, it’s, uh, just Vik.”

“Well, Vik, please follow me. You got here just in time.”

Panam leads the way through the camp, V falling in step with Vik as they make their way to Dusty’s makeshift clinic. Climbing the steps, she places a hand on his shoulder to get his attention and mouths a silent, “Thank you,” offering him a small smile as she hands over his bag which he returns with a nod and a smile of his own. Panam introduces the pair and Vik immediately sets to work, his naturally calm demeanor working wonders on Dusty’s nerves as they discuss the details of the surgery and begin to prep for the Raffen’s arrival.

Panam loops her arm through V’s and clears her throat to get the mens’ attention. “Well, it seems like everything is under control here. We will leave you to it. Good luck!,” she calls, dragging V down the stairs with her.

“Hey! Where are we goin’? What if they need help?”

“You did say that Viktor is the best ripper in Night City, yes? They will be fine, V. Let us go sit by the fire while they work.”

Still holding onto V’s arm, she nudges her toward a log in front of the now sizable campfire and takes a seat beside her.

“So… You do plan to spend some time out here with Viktor tonight, yes?,” she asks, nudging V’s shoulder with her own.

The sounds of Saul arriving with the Raffen echo through the camp.

“I, uh, hadn’t really thought about it,” V says, eyes darting to the ripper’s tent as the man of the hour is hauled onto the operating chair. That was a lie and they both knew it.

“I see. Well, should you decide to give it some thought, there’s a little spot north of here with a great view of the stars. Your man could probably use some… relaxation after this.” Panam waggles her eyebrows and laughs, ducking out of the way of V’s arm as she playfully throws a punch in her direction. She knows exactly the place.

“He’s not my man, Panam. He’s just a friend. A damn good one, at that.” Her words are confident, bolstered by her own laugh, but when she looks over to the tent and sees him, completely in his element and patiently guiding Dusty through the procedure, she falters, her laugh fading away on the soft desert breeze.

“You keep telling yourself that, V,” Panam says as she stands and stretches. “Listen, I have some things I need to take care of around camp. By the looks of things, they should be finished soon. Think about what I said, yeah?” Giving V’s shoulder a squeeze, she heads off into the night.

“Christ, V, if you don’t say somethin’ to him, I will. These mushy puppy-dog eyes make me wanna puke. Hell, even Panam sees it and she’s more oblivious to that shit than you are.” Right on cue, Johnny materializes beside her and lights up a cigarette.

Of all the times… “Can it, Johnny.”

“I’m being serious, V. We both know you’re runnin’ short on time. You just gotta decide if you’re gonna grow some balls and actually do something about it before that clock runs out.”

Her retort died on her tongue. He was right, of course.

“So help me, Johnny, if you show up in the middle of-”

“Easy, killer. I’ll leave you two alone. Scout’s honor.” He lifts his arm in mock salute and winks, blinking out of sight as Vik walks over to stand in front of the fire.

V stands to join him, running a hand through her hair as she tries to keep her cool.

“That was faster than I expected. Everything went well, I take it?”

“Eh, he’ll be fine. Dusty’s a good kid. He doesn’t give himself enough credit; just needed a little coaching, is all. Barely had to get my hands dirty,” he says with a warm smile.

“I’m glad to hear it. I know they’re grateful for your help. And so am I. You didn’t have to come all the way out here to help a group of strangers in the middle of the night.”

“You honestly think I’d turn y- uh, this down?” Her heart skips a beat. “I haven’t been out of the city in years. Plus, the view is incredible,” he says, glancing up at the sky. V seizes the opportunity.

“If you think the view is great here, you should see it from the cliffs. They’re not far, if you want to go. That is, I just figured since we’re out here already-”

“I’d love to.”

She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and grins. “Great! You’re gonna love it.”

———

Ten minutes later, V drives the Thorton up over the last rise of the cliff and slows to a stop, heart thundering in her chest. She hopes he doesn’t notice the tremor in her hands as she turns off the ignition and jumps down onto the red rock below. She meets Vik at the front of the car and leads him up a small incline along the rock face, stopping when she reaches a familiar outcropping of stone. “We’re here,” she whispers.

Leaning back against the rocks, still warm from the sun, Vik lets out a low whistle. “Can’t remember the last time I saw stars like this. It’s a damn shame, really.”

“Probably what I miss the most,” she muses, pocketing her turquoise shades and staring up into the sky.

“Would you ever go back? To living as a Nomad, I mean. The Aldecaldos seem fond of you.”

“Nah. As much as I sometimes hate this city for all the ways it’s fucked me over…” Her hand drifts subconsciously to her neck, fingers idly tracing over the chip slot behind her ear. “There’s too much I’d be givin’ up if I just left. Too many people I’d be leavin’ behind.” He nods in understanding but doesn’t respond.

The silence stretches between them for what feels like an eternity.

“Konpeki.”

“Huh?”

She huffs out a breath. “Konpeki Plaza. The… heist for the Relic. That was the last time I saw Jackie alive and all we did was fight. God, I was so mad at him, actin’ like we were going on a damn picnic instead of stickin’ our necks out for that low-life DeShawn. Then after we got blasted, I yelled at him, Vik. He was bleedin’ out and I fuckin’ yelled at him, blaming him for Bug’s death and for getting us in that mess in the first place. It was wrong and it was awful, but I was so angry. And then he died, right next to me, and there was nothing I could do. He died before I could apologize or even say goodbye. Before he knew how much he meant to me.” She reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes a tear from her face.

Vik lets out a breath and takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “V… I still have nightmares about those ‘Sake bastards breaking to my fucking clinic and taking Jack’s body right out from under me. I shoulda stopped them. I shoulda fought back. But I was pinned to the floor with a gun to my head and I… I was a coward, V. I let ‘em take him and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish things had turned out differently. That I was stronger. That I’d done more.”

She reaches out to him then and closes her trembling fingers around his own, heart clenching when she feels his hand tighten against her grip.

“It’s not your fault,” she says softly as another tear rolls down her cheek.

“After I died and you told me about the chip, I promised myself that I wouldn’t get close to anyone else without all the cards being on the table. I wanted everything to be up front with no room for guessing or regrets. Panam and Judy are some of the best friends I’ve ever had because of that. But there’s still one person I’ve been holding back from.”

She glances up and meets Vik’s gaze and steadies herself with a breath before turning to face him and reaching for his other hand.

“Vik, I… I just need to you know that I care about you, a lot. I know my time is short, but whatever happens with the Relic, I want you to be part of my life. I’m so damn scared of losing you and I-”

Vik reaches a hand up to cup her cheek and her words catch in her throat.

“V, when I saw, firsthand, the lengths Arasaka would go to recover their “assets”… part of my nightmares were them stealing you, too. Taking you away from me. I’m already powerless to stop whatever’s goin’ on inside your head and that kills me every damn day. I don’t want to lose you.”

She pulls her hand away from his and runs her thumb over his cheekbone.

“Then don’t,” she whispers.

Before V even realizes what’s happening, Vik’s hands are tangled in her hair and his lips are crushed against hers, months of pent up emotion flooding into every movement of his lips and tongue, nearly overwhelming her. She meets him with equal fervor, hands roaming over his chest, kneading the taut muscles with her fingers and enjoying the rumbling groan that she can feel more than hear. She works the buttons of his over-shirt free and pushes it off of his shoulders, moaning into his mouth as she runs her hands over his bare arms, muscles flexing under her touch.

Vik returns the favor, divesting V of her jacket as he breaks the kiss to lick and nip his way down the column of her throat. A shiver races down her spine and she tugs the hem of his tank from his pants, sliding her hands under the fabric to feel his skin. She rolls his nipples between her fingers and he bucks against her, erection straining against the front of his pants and a fresh wave of arousal pools between her legs.

Bracing her hands against his shoulders, she pushes him back, just enough to pull his shirt over his head, before pulling him back into another heated kiss. He’s surprising adept with her corset, undoing it in a matter of moments. Her nipples barely have a moment to react to the cool night air before he pulls one into his mouth, assaulting it with tongue and teeth while the other is pinched and pulled by his skilled fingers. The sensation is too much and V leans against the cliff for support, the rough face of the rock a heady contrast to the slick feel of Vik’s tongue on her breast.

He drops to his knees to place hot, open-mouthed kisses down her belly, hands skimming down her sides to toy with the top of her skirt. He looks up at her then, eyes seeking permission, and all she can do is nod. With a smirk, he pulls her skirt and panties down her legs, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent of her arousal. He braces his left hand on her stomach and slides the tip of his finger back and forth along her soaking cunt, leaning back on his heels to see her. Her head is thrown back, bottom lip caught in her teeth, and a thin sheen of sweat coats her skin. Her heaving chest accentuates her tattoo, the snake wrapped around her breast almost seeming alive as it moves with her breathing.

He pulls his finger away and V whimpers above him.

“Patience,” he grumbles before pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

In one smooth motion, Vik slides his finger into her and wraps his tongue around her clit. V arches off the rock, a harsh moan tearing from her throat as every nerve in her body catches fire. She bucks her hips forward, desperate for more. He adds a second finger, pushing deeper into her heat and hooking his fingers, catapulting V closer to the edge. A few more strokes of his tongue and she’s flying, orgasm soaring through her body as she shakes against the cliff face, Vik’s hand on her stomach the only thing keeping her grounded. He coaxes her through her high before slowly withdrawing his fingers.

“Christ, you’re gorgeous when you cum,” he mutters against her skin.

“Let me return the favor,” she says, running her fingers through his hair. He stands with a grunt and she leans up to kiss him, moaning as he tastes herself on his tongue. She reaches down to undo his pants, palming his dick with an appreciative sigh before sliding them down his hips. He moans as his aching cock springs free and watches as she rearranges their discarded clothes, forming a makeshift blanket on the ground. She sweeps her arm out, gesturing at the pile with a grin. “After you.”

He walks over, lowering himself to the ground and splaying out on his back. V climbs over him, rubbing her wet folds across the length of his dick and drawing a deep groan from his throat. She reaches down, giving him a few languid pumps before lining him up with her entrance.

“I don’t want to lose you, Viktor,” she says, voice shaking as she stares into his eyes.

“Then don’t,” he echoes, grabbing her hips and pushing her down on his length. They moan in unison, finally feeling completed, finally feeling whole. V sets a wicked pace, riding Vik into the sandstone as their sounds of pleasure echo across the Badlands.

The stuttering in his hips tells V he’s close. She’s close, too, that familiar flame lapping at her spine. His head has fallen to the side, but she grabs his chin and forces him to look at her.

“I want you to see stars,” she breathes, angling his head up to the sky. She bears down, her walls clamping hard around him and within a few strokes, he’s shouting at the stars as wave after wave of pleasure shoots through his body. She’s not far behind, crying out in relief as her orgasm crests, riding out her release on his twitching cock.

As their breathing slows, V rolls off of him and snuggles into his side, sighing contentedly when his arm wraps around her waist. They lie there silently for a time, watching the stars sparkle overhead.

“You know I’m here for you, right? Even if I can’t stop the Relic, I’ll always be here to help you, any way I can.”

“I’m here for you, too. ’Til the end.”

He pulls her close and presses a kiss to her forehead. “’Til the end.”

[mayquita]

Damn You For Making Me Love You (11/15) - I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing

Thank you so so much, for your likes, reblogs, kudos and comments. It means the world to me.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd​​​ I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans​​ and @onceuponaprincessworld​​​, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang​​​ for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 7100 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Ao3 / FFnet

About this chapter: Welcome to Storybrooke... Last flashback of this story. In fact, almost the entire chapter is a huge flashback, which makes me a little nervous about your reaction. Still, I had a great time writing it and it felt like it was kind of a tribute to the show as I tried to include several significant elements from Storybrooke. I hope you like it :)

//

Chapter 10: I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

Killian - December 2019

Killian couldn't believe what just happened. It was as if by the time Emma finally pressed her lips to his, his brain had stopped working properly, his mind plagued with pictures coming in flashes while he felt like his body might combust.

Although it had been a few minutes since Emma ran away, he hadn't yet been able to recover, not when he still had difficulty catching his breath. Not when his lips still tingled, craving for more; not when he could still feel a soft humming under his skin. But above all, he felt slightly dizzy, the memories that clustered in his head too powerful to be stopped, making him unable not only to process what had just happened but to react to Emma's sudden departure.

He would have gone after her if his legs had responded to him, or at least would have tried to stop her or talk to her, but he hadn't even been able to utter any sound. Instead, he remained paralyzed and in a state of astonishment that he had not yet recovered from.

After letting out a deep breath, he leaned on the door, letting his head rest against the smooth surface as he put a hand to his mouth and brushed his lower lip with his fingertips. He then closed his eyes, his tongue licking his lips in a desperate attempt to retain the vestiges of her taste while an unstoppable wave of memories took up residence in his mind. Unable to fight them, he simply gave up and allowed that incredible moment that he had treasured as the most precious of dreams to finally come true.

Storybrooke - Fifteen months ago

When Liam announced that they would take an unexpected trip over the weekend, Killian could barely contain his enthusiasm, especially when he learned that Emma would also accompany them.

Killian didn't even care that the absence of the three of them during the weekend would imply that they would be depositing the reins of The Kraken in the hands of Robin and Ruby. But if his brother, who was the business expert, considered it feasible, he wouldn't be the one to complain. Especially since, after all, as Liam had assured, it was a business trip.

Emma didn't think it was, apparently. Something that Killian found amusing in a way, since she seemed to care more about the success of the business than the owners themselves, or at least one of them.

"I don't quite get it. Wouldn't it be more appropriate for us to travel in the middle of the week?" Emma asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Killian watched her reaction carefully, praying silently that she wouldn't want to stay behind and not travel.

"I'm afraid it's not possible, lass. I already have an appointment scheduled for Friday afternoon," Liam explained without giving further details. Killian internally thanked Liam that he hadn't suggested that Emma stay behind. "In addition, there's this place that we are going to visit that is only open on weekends. So, there is that," his brother added, giving his voice an enigmatic tone while raising an eyebrow.

That's how they ended up in Liam's car on Friday morning with Storybrooke, a small town in Maine, as a destination. The trip did not start well for Killian, since last night he hadn't been able to chain together more than two hours of sleep in a row. Probably because of the nerves generated by the prospect of spending three whole days with Emma in a different environment, for once.

Emma had spent the night in their apartment so they could leave earlier the next morning. So when he had risen sporting the obvious signs of lack of sleep, far from showing a little commiseration for him, Liam and Emma had found in him a target for their jokes. To make matters worse, his brother had decided to betray him, offering Emma the passenger seat, so he had to resign himself to occupy the back seat, all alone.

"It's too early to be in a grumpy mood, little brother," Liam addressed him through the rearview mirror. "Don't take it personally, but Emma is a better co-driver than you."

On that, he agreed with Liam. Emma was better than him, not only as a co-driver but practically in everything, except perhaps in singing, but he wasn't going to admit that out loud. "It's younger. Besides, you're using the bloody GPS, why do you need a co-driver?"

Killian heard giggles coming from Emma, but at least she kept silent. The last thing he needed was the two of them allying against him once more, taking advantage of his moment of weakness.

"You're right, I'll put it another way. Since Emma has already ingested her morning dose of caffeine, her company is much nicer than yours. Better?”

In response, he let out a huff of annoyance as he grabbed his phone and connected the earphones, ready to ignore the other two throughout the trip. Emma decided to join the party before he even had time to put the earbuds in his ears, though.

Even from his position, Killian could see her playful expression through the mirror in the sun visor. "Come on, Killian, you're such a drama queen. We did it thinking of you, so you can sleep all the way."

He was tempted to do just that, but the lack of sleep was wreaking havoc on him, pushing him to act like the immature person he was sometimes. So instead of sleeping, he dedicated himself for the rest of the trip to keep Emma busy in her co-driver job.  

  "I'm hot, turn on the air conditioner." 

"It’s cold now, can you turn up the temperature?"

"The radio's volume is too low." 

“I hate that station, can you switch to a different one?"

 Killian wasn't sure what was driving him to act in such an impertinent way, but he seemed unable to stop, to the point that he soon managed to spread his bad mood to the other two occupants of the vehicle.

Only when the Welcome to Storybrooke sign came into view did he manage to relax and remain silent, focusing instead on observing the landscape through the window. His brother and Emma probably appreciated the break as they also remained silent, the music of his favorite station the only sound that resonated inside the car.

Even without getting out of the car, Killian detected a particular aura in the streets. It was as if the thick forest that bordered the town had functioned as a kind of time portal sending them back to the 80s. It was a quaint place, no doubt, so he was immediately attracted, his tiredness and his previous irritability gradually fading as they moved along the main street.

That improvement in their moods was fleeting, though. It lasted exactly five minutes, the time it took to park the car in front of the bed and breakfast where they would be staying and discover that there was a misunderstanding with the rooms booked by Liam.

"See? Here, Mr. Jones, a double room." The person behind the counter, an old woman with gray hair looking at them over her glasses, insisted, an exasperated expression on her face as she pointed to the hand-written reservation on a notebook, which seemed to be at least the same age as the woman. No sign of any technological device on the counter, unless we consider a phone that looked as old as everything else around.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I don't know if I explained myself correctly. I contacted by phone a week ago to reserve two rooms, one single and one double." Liam raised a hand with two fingers up, to emphasize his words and then waved the other hand to encompass the three of them. "Besides, as you can see, we are three people." Although Liam maintained a polite tone, Killian did not miss the hint of irritation in his voice.

"That won't be a problem, Mr. Jones." The woman waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "There is enough space to place an additional bed."

"And what about if you get us an additional room instead?" It was almost fun to watch Liam struggling to stay polite but gradually losing his patience.

"I'm afraid it won't be possible, sir." The old woman affirmed, her tone not apologetic at all.

Killian exchanged a furtive glance with Emma, who kept her lips pressed together as if trying to hide an incipient grin. Liam instead seemed increasingly annoyed. He pinched the bridge of his nose before addressing the woman again. "And may I ask why?"

"We're celebrating a festival in the village during the weekend. It is quite popular in the surroundings, so we already have all the rooms reserved, I'm afraid." Just when Killian was about to intervene, suggesting Liam to let it pass, that they would find another accommodation, the woman continued as if she had read his mind. "I must also add that this is the only establishment of this kind in the town."

"Of course it is," Liam grumbled under his breath, though not low enough that Killian wouldn't hear it. Emma, on the other hand, let out a snort before speaking.

"Come on guys, it's not like it will be the first time we sleep under the same roof. It's not a big deal," Emma assured as she shrugged one of her shoulders.

"So a double room then?" the woman behind the counter asked as she held what looked like a heavy metal key in her hand. Liam simply nodded in silence. "Good. And now if you are so kind as to wait here for a few minutes, I will inform my assistant to install the additional bed."

"Uhm, thank you," Liam muttered as he grabbed the old key.

"I guess there will be at least two beds," Killian commented a few minutes later as they climbed the stairs after they were told that the room was available for them.

There was one king-size bed.

And a tiny cot.

After leaving their belongings in a corner, Killian and his brother began to inspect the room while discussing possible sleeping arrangements and tried to locate an alternative that could function as an improvised bed.

"At least the bathtub is an adequate size."

"Guys..."

"And that armchair seems quite comfortable."

"Guys..."

"Look, there are several blankets inside the closet."

"GUYS!" The two men snapped their heads in the direction of Emma, who remained in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest, a scowling expression on her face. "Are you guys seriously discussing sleeping options when we already have full space for all three? What is this, a kind of old fashioned chivalry act or something?” She didn't even give them time to reply, since she immediately added, "I'm the one who will sleep in the damn cot."

They had managed to piss her off, if the tone of her voice and her sulky expression were an indication, but Killian felt a special predilection for the fire in her gaze that appeared on these occasions. He was tempted to continue teasing her, but he thought better and instead tried to offer an explanation.

"Swan..."

"Don’t Swan me," Emma cut him off abruptly. "You two can share the large bed. That's final." Killian and Liam exchanged one last look and then Killian looked back at her with an apologetic expression, scratching behind his ear, while his brother remained quietly beside him. They knew it was better not to argue with Emma in these situations. "And now, can we continue with our plans?"

"Just for the record, Swan. This wasn't about you. Rather, I wanted to avoid sharing a bed with him. Believe me, sleeping with Liam is probably more torture than sleeping in that awkward contraption."

His comment got a smile from Emma. Liam, on the contrary, let out a snort while rolling his eyes, although that wasn't enough to stop Killian. "Can you imagine hearing a constant snoring in your ear while he keeps stirring in bed while he sleeps? That's my brother." Killian kept teasing Liam, nudging him with his shoulder as he stifled a laugh, earning a glare from his brother.

"Of course I'm the one to blame here. Why doesn't that surprise me?" Liam shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping his mouth. "Now that the sleeping arrangements are made, can we get out of this room now? We have an appointment." Liam's voice revealed that he was upset, not only because of Killian's comment but because of the previous awkward situation with the old woman. "And I don't snore."

This time Killian couldn't suppress a chuckle bubbling in his throat while Emma also burst out laughing, approaching Liam and tapping him on the shoulder. "Sure, Liam."

This weekend was going to be definitely interesting, to say the least.

//

They went to have lunch at the diner adjacent to the B&B. The place had a retro air that seemed consistent with the rest of the town, but at least the food was delicious, so tasty and greasy. It turned out that the diner was also run by the same old woman who had attended them in the other establishment. Liam's face of disbelief when he saw the same woman behind the restaurant counter was hilarious. This time, she —Mrs. Lucas, they learned — was much kinder to them. 

Still, she subjected them to visual scrutiny from behind the counter while they placed their orders. Whatever it was that she observed, she must have been satisfied because she didn't hesitate to serve the dishes herself while offering first a speech about the town and its inhabitants, and then go on to question them in a not so subtle way about the reason that had led them there, as well as to inquire about more personal issues.

Although it might seem odd, Killian didn't feel uncomfortable with the interrogation and, if the expressions on their faces were an indication, neither of his two companions seemed to be either. It might be the atmosphere around them, or the spirit of these small towns, where everyone knew each other and looked after the others. In addition, the interrogation allowed them to finally know the real reasons for their trip to Maine. Or at least one of them.

Liam planned to carry out some remodeling at the bar, including installing a new bar counter with an even more naval look. That's why they were meeting Marco and his son, August. Following the footsteps of Mrs. Lucas, these inhabitants of Storybrooke seemed equally welcoming, immediately engaging them in an animated conversation where the trio were told part of their story. Marco was a master carpenter who worked in a small workshop located on the ground floor of his house. Despite his age, he was still active, receiving sporadic help from his son August, who was also a writer.

Killian was not sure how Liam had known about their existence, but he only needed a simple look inside the workshop to know that his brother had made the right choice. Not only because of Marco's evident skill working the wood, but also because he seemed like a really kind and considerate person.

Once they finalized the details of their request, they found that they would have the rest of the day free, so they decided to integrate with the rest of the population and discover more aspects of the quaint town and its inhabitants. And what better way than to go to that popular festival that was being held there?

The festive environment was evident with a simple glance at the streets. Killian was surprised because he hadn't noticed those details when they first entered the town a few hours earlier, but now he could see how the facades of the shops were decorated with pennants and colored garlands. Following the crowd, they arrived at a square where they had installed numerous stalls offering handicrafts and food. 

Everyone seemed friendly and, except for some suspicious looks, they were treated kindly and even were encouraged to participate in the numerous activities developed at the festival's heart. It was a pleasure to see both his brother and Emma enjoy themselves in such a carefree way, without worries, without pressures, just being carried away by the rest of the people around. Liam couldn't have been more correct in getting them out of their usual routine for once.

They were even introduced to the local sheriff, Graham Humbert, a guy who, like the rest of the people around, seemed kind and welcoming. There was something about him that Killian didn't like at all, though. He didn't particularly enjoy seeing how his eyes lingered on Emma more than necessary or how the smile on his face seemed to widen every time he addressed her. An unpleasant sensation settled in his stomach as his lips drew a tight smile. Killian had to resist the urge to place one of his arms on Emma's shoulders and draw her towards him in a possessive manner. 

To his relief, the encounter with the bloody sheriff was quite short since he was on duty, working to ensure the safety of the event.

"If I didn't know you so well, I'd say you were jealous." Emma's words in his ear caught him off guard. He had remained so distracted watching the sheriff walking away that he hadn't even realized that she had approached him until she almost touched him.

"Good thing you know me so well then, don't you?" he managed to reply in a careless tone as he waggled his eyebrows and his lips curled into a grin.

In response, Emma gave him a skeptical glance before turning away again in search of his brother, who had stopped at one of the stalls. After letting out a sigh and shaking his head, Killian had no choice but to follow her.

//

Killian woke up early the next day when the sun had just begun to appear. He was not surprised to see Liam lying beside him sleeping soundly, soft snores escaping between his partially parted lips. At some point, he might have kicked the covers away, since he laid on the mattress with nothing wrapped around him.

His eyes then turned to his other side, seeing Emma lying asleep on the cot. Unlike his brother, she was wrapped up, only her head remained exposed. Although the contraption didn't look particularly comfortable, that didn't seem to have affected her, since her relaxed features denoted that she was having a restful sleep. Killian allowed himself these moments to delight in the serenity that radiated from her as a well-known song began to play in his head.

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing Watch you smile while you are sleeping While you're far away dreaming I could spend my life in this sweet surrender I could stay lost in this moment forever Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

It was as if the lyrics had been written to describe that precise moment. Of course, they weren't sharing the same bed, and they weren't even lovers, but the feeling was the same, nonetheless, at least on his part. He was grateful that he still had the music and the possibility of expressing his feelings through the lyrics. He made a mental note of including that song in his repertoire. Maybe there would come a time when he could dedicate it or another equally romantic one to her.

The need to reach out his hand to touch her, even if it was to remove a strand of hair that partially covered her face, was almost irresistible to the point that he needed all his willpower to look away and curb his creepy stalker behavior.

After one last look at her, he finally got up from the bed and walked stealthily toward the bathroom. Emma might not seem uncomfortable while she slept, but it was more than likely that she would wake up with her usual moodiness. So, taking advantage of having woken up so early, he thought that a visit to the diner was in order, at least to provide his sleeping beauty with her daily dose of caffeine.

Several hours later, the three of them were already walking through the streets of Storybrooke, this time with a new destination, the docks. The stroll was quite pleasant, not only for the good company, but for the warm temperatures and the sea breeze that caressed their faces. He definitely liked this little town, where time seemed to have stopped or at least seemed to pass more slowly, allowing them to enjoy the small pleasures of life.

Killian suspected that it wasn't a walk through a random place, but one that had a specific purpose. But Liam, showing off his usual stubbornness, had refused to reveal the mystery. "Be patient, little brother, all in due time."

Well, it seemed that the time had finally arrived. The first thing Killian's eyes fell on when they reached the docks was the magnificent vessel moored there, occupying a privileged place that made it stand out from the rest of the boats.

"Is that...?"

"Aye. An actual restored pirate ship." From his expression of ill-concealed pride, it seemed as if he owned the ship instead of being a simple tourist who had been fortunate to find out about its existence.

That didn't imply that he downplayed his merit. After all, they were here because of him. There was also no need to feed Liam's ego, though. Emma thought differently, of course.

"For real?" She looked surprised, her eyes traveling intermittently from Liam to the ship while her mouth hung open. "This is awesome."

"For real." Liam nodded his head vigorously to emphasize his words. "And what's better, they organize guided tours every weekend. That's the reason we couldn't travel here any other day."

"I wonder if they will allow us to take pictures of the interior, to get inspiration, you know." Killian couldn't help a smile of affection from spreading on his lips. Emma was so involved not only in their lives but in the business that she had ended up adopting their passion for the sea.

"There's only one way to find out. Shall we?" Liam asked as he offered Emma his arm in a gentlemanly manner.

The Jolly Roger. That was the name of the ship. It seemed obvious that this wasn't its original name but rather it was the one that its owners — or the people in charge in the town — had adopted to be in accordance with the place. Still, the name couldn't be more appropriate.

When they arrived at the pier there was already a group of five people waiting there. They didn't take long to be called and shuffled by way of the access ramp onto the main deck of the ship where they met with three other people. The smile Killian was sporting faltered a little when she saw that one of those people was none other than the bloody sheriff.

Killian clenched his jaw and resisted the temptation to take a look at Emma to check her reaction. Instead, he focused on the three guys in front of him.

"Hello everyone and welcome aboard the Jolly Roger!" Graham was the first to speak, addressing the group with an affable expression and a broad smile. "As a town representative, I would like to make a short introduction before the tour begins." Graham's eyes traveled through all attendees, probably to make sure he had their attention before continuing. Killian didn't miss that his gaze lingered a little longer on Emma than on the rest — Or maybe he was imagining things — Bloody hell! He needed to pull himself together and stop those thoughts.

"As you may have already learned thanks to my uniform, I'm not the captain of this ship, but a mere sheriff. Unfortunately our captain was indisposed." Killian heard a murmur of disappointment from the other members of the group, but Graham hastened to continue. "But that won't prevent you from enjoying this magnificent visit to a true pirate ship that is completely restored."

"Too bad. I was waiting for someone dressed as a pirate," Emma whispered at his side, ignoring Graham's explanations, a mischievous smile on her face, so Killian had no choice but to play along.

"At least the guy with the red beanie looks like a sailor. Doesn't he remind you of Mr. Smee, by the way? You know, the one from Peter Pan?" Killian muttered back, getting a quiet chuckle from Emma in response.

Then, she moved closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder and standing on tiptoe to reach his ear. "The other guy, the charming one, looks even less like a pirate."

"The charming one?"

"Yeah, the guy with blond hair. He seems more like a prince, or something."

"So he would be Prince Charming?" This time Emma's laugh was loud, causing some faces to turn in her direction.

"Shhhhh," Liam hissed, addressing them with a scowl. "Are you going to behave like two adults for once?"

"Aye, aye Captain," Killian replied mockingly and then turned his head and winked at Emma, who had her lips pressed together as if she was making an effort not to burst out laughing again.

Killian's lips drew a triumphant smile when he turned his attention back to Graham. At that moment, he couldn't care less about acting like the immature person he was if he managed to get Emma's attention and make her laugh.

"I would like to introduce you to William, who is the one with more knowledge about this ship, and my deputy, David Nolan, who has quite the experience in these type of tours since he has attended several of them. They both will be in charge of guiding you on this tour. I trust it will be to your liking. And now without further delay, I leave you with them. Duty calls." After a small bow of his head, the sheriff went to the exit ramp but not before giving Emma a final smile — this time he wasn’t imagining things. To his delight, after offering a brief smile back, she turned back to Killian, the spark of mischief still present in her gaze.

"So no Prince Charming, then. A pity."

"Not to worry, Swan. With this town, you'd never know. Maybe there is some prince out there. Or a pirate." Killian winked at her, causing a new laugh to escape between her lips; a delicious sound that he would never tire of hearing, although this time it was also accompanied by a glare from Liam.

The guided tour to the pirate ship proved to be a pretty interesting experience. The two guys knew what they were talking about, although, according to Graham, they were nothing more than substitutes for the usual guide. William, the one who looked like a sailor, was in charge of introducing them to the history of piracy, narrating numerous anecdotes and curiosities. The other guy, David — the not prince — detailed instead the aspects related to the ship itself.

There was even a small stall on the deck that served as a kind of souvenir shop, where they were able to acquire some naval-style decoration items that would allow them to redecorate The Kraken.

The trio got along well with David to the point that, once the tour was over, they extended the visit a little more, chatting animatedly on the deck with the two improvised guides while all the other tourists left the ship.

"Are you sure you've never come here? I feel like I've seen you before." David turned to Killian, his eyes narrowed as if trying to figure out why he seemed familiar.

William came forward before Killian could respond. "He looks like our Captain, don't you think?"

David's eyes widened in recognition. "That! You do look like our captain, but a much softer version."

"So you're telling me there's a guy dressed as a pirate around here who looks like Killian?" Emma asked with a funny tone and a hint of interest in her eyes. "A pity he's sick, I would have liked to see it. And compare."

Killian tilted her head in Emma's direction as he raised an eyebrow. In response, her lips curved into a smirk. He was about to drop an innuendo, but he thought better of it and instead turned to David. "And what would be his name, Captain Hook?"

"Sure, who else could be the captain of this fine vessel?" David replied with a serious expression on his face although his voice revealed a playful tone. Both Emma and Liam snorted while Killian smirked at them. No doubt this town and its inhabitants were a continuous source of entertainment.

"Can you imagine Killian and an even more cocky twin together? If it's hard to tolerate one, imagine two of them," Liam joked as he tapped him on the shoulder. For once, Killian didn't mind Liam messing with him, not when his stupid jokes made Emma laugh so carefree. That sound was like music to his ears.

After chatting a little more with the guides, they said goodbye, taking with them the promise that they would visit the town again so that Killian could meet his twin and with the recommendation that they visit The Rabbit Hole, the most popular bar in town.

At this point, none of them were surprised by the name of the bar, although Killian was curious to know what they would find. One thing was clear, both he and Emma were willing to fully enjoy the experience. It was not usual for them to visit bars other than their workplace, so the prospect of being served for once and not worrying about drinking too much alcohol was too appealing to miss. Liam did not seem so convinced to go out that night, though, claiming that they would have to get up early the next day to make the journey back home. On this occasion, Emma decided to ally with Killian so Liam had no choice but to follow them.

The first thing Killian noticed when they entered the bar was that it was quite crowded even though the festival in the streets still had plenty of people gathered outside. The décor inside the establishment kept the common retro theme seen throughout the rest of the town.

"Look, there’s a dartboard," Liam pointed out, his previous reluctance giving way to an obvious interest.

"And there is also a pool table," Emma added, gesturing to a corner of the bar, a spark of challenge in her gaze. "What do you say, Jones, are you up for me to kick your ass?"

"I'm always up, Swan."

He was about to add another suggestive comment when his gaze caught something — or rather someone — that made him harden his features. Graham, the bloody sheriff, was also at the bar. Luckily, the guy was turning his back on them, so he probably hadn't realized their presence yet.

Taking advantage of the fact that the two of them had been left alone since Liam had approached the counter to order drinks, Killian's first impulse was to grab Emma and get her away from Graham with the excuse of playing pool. He was so tempted to do it, but he immediately changed his mind. He had no right to keep off Emma from speaking to whomever she wanted, among other things because he himself was a damn coward who didn't dare to express his feelings towards her. The guy seemed interested in her. Who was he to prevent any chance of happiness for her? After taking a deep breath, he nodded almost imperceptibly and approached Emma, whispering in her ear.

"I just spotted the sheriff, Graham, in case you want to go say hello."

Emma's reaction was not as expected; it was much better, to his utter relief. She looked at him first, frowning slightly in a confused expression, then her gaze drifted to the place where Graham was and finally her eyes fixed on him again. "Nah, I'd rather beat you." Without further ado, she began to walk in the direction of the pool table, swaying her hips in a very distracting way. "Are you coming or not?" she asked, turning her head and casting him a glance too tempting to be rejected.

From there the three of them dedicated themselves to enjoying the night to the fullest.

They played pool and Killian lost all the games to the delight of both his brother and Emma. Not that he was bad, but rather that there was something hypnotic in the way Emma handled the stick. Not to mention the portion of cleavage that was exposed every time she leaned on the table.

They also played darts, with more luck on his part, although he did not enjoy his victory as he would have liked, since that was the moment when Graham decided to approach them.

"I see you are making the most of your stay in our town. I'm glad about that." Although Graham addressed the three of them, both his posture and his gaze denoted that his words were intended only for Emma.

"Yeah. We're doing some kind of research since we run a bar. Well, rather they are the owners, I just work there." Emma replied, a soft smile on her face, her gaze pausing for a moment on Graham and then traveling back to Killian and Liam.

Emma's comment was all Graham needed to turn his torso further in her direction, focusing all his attention on her. "Ah! So you work in a bar. May I ask what's your task there?"

"She is our saving angel," Liam replied before Emma even had time to open her mouth, placing an arm around her shoulders in a gesture of affection. It seemed that his brother remained oblivious to Graham's attempts to flirt.

Graham seemed to take his brother's gesture in the wrong way because his expression changed subtly, his features marked with a hint of disappointment. After continuing to chat a little more, he politely excused himself, expressing his hope to see them before they traveled back home. And suddenly, they were three again.

They continued playing and drinking maybe too much, except for Liam, who once again proved to be the most mature of them, not only in age but in behavior. But Killian liked a challenge and given Emma's competitive side, she also found it difficult to refuse a competition, even if that meant there was alcohol involved.

He wasn't aware that perhaps there was too much alcohol in his system until Liam practically had to drag them out of the bar. Emma wasn't in a better state, although she didn't seem to care, her eyes sparkled, there was a permanent smile on her face, and her cheeks had a soft blush, making her irresistible to his eyes. Both ignored the expression of reproach on Liam's face as they walked towards the B&B singing and giggling while his brother followed them a few steps behind.

It had been a while since he felt that way, with a kind of liberating energy, very different from the effect that alcohol had had on him in his darkest moments. On this occasion, a kind of fog had settled in his brain preventing him from thinking clearly. But in return he felt that his inhibitions had disappeared, pushing him to act like a teenager.

Once in their room, they continued laughing and messing with Liam who acted once more as if he were a responsible father standing before his two mischievous children, forcing them to change clothes, put on pajamas and cool off before getting into bed, despite their protests.

"You'll thank me when you wake up tomorrow with a hangover."

"You're not funny, Liam," Emma complained, her arms crossed over her chest and an adorable pout on her lips. Still, she did what she had been told and locked herself in the bathroom after grabbing her pajamas and toiletries.

Once Liam made sure that Killian also changed clothes, he turned to him again. "We should have eaten something instead of drinking so much. I've seen a vending machine in the hallway near the reception. I guess I will only find junk food, but that's better than nothing. You two are going to behave in my absence, aren't you?" he asked in a not convincing tone.

"Yes, Dad," Killian responded, trying, and failing, to maintain a serious expression.

In response, Liam shook his head, giving him one last intimidating look before grabbing the key and leaving the room. That was also the moment that Emma chose to leave the bathroom, her hair in a loose bun, no traces of makeup, an adorable expression on her face. Her eyes then turned to the large bed while a naughty spark crossed her gaze.

Killian watched in amazement as she crossed the room and practically threw herself on the large bed. She then patted the empty space beside her. "Hurry up, before Liam arrives."

He hastened to obey, although his clouded mind prevented him from processing Emma's true intentions. Even so, the prospect of sharing a bed with Emma instead of Liam was too appealing to be rejected, consequences be damned.

"Do you think if we pretend to fall asleep like that Liam would wake us up?" Emma asked while snuggling under the covers.

"Nah. I don't think so." He also got under the covers, lying on his side facing her. "He's not gonna wake you up, at least. I'm not so sure about myself, though. Maybe he kicks my ass and sends me to sleep on the floor while he takes the cot."

Emma giggled beside him, but then her features twisted as she let out a groan. "Gods! This room won't stop moving. It's like we're on the deck of a fucking ship."

"We're a little drunk, love."

"Only a little?" She snorted while poking a finger into his chest. "You're a bad influence, Jones, and—" Whatever she was going to say, it was interrupted by a loud yawn, causing him to burst out laughing hysterically as she tried unsuccessfully to kick him out of bed. In the end, she gave up and instead began to laugh too.

Once the laughter subsided, she approached him, their bodies separated by only a few inches. "I think I'm gonna try to sleep." She mused in a slurred voice and then she brought her face close to his and pressed her lips to his. It was the briefest of kisses, her touch almost imperceptible, like a feather, but with the ability to shake him whole. "Good night, Killian," she whispered against his lips before turning her back to him.

Killian remained motionless for a few seconds, feeling a pleasant tingling in his lips, while his heart pounded frantically in his chest. There was a single thought in his cloudy mind. What had just happened? Had it been real, or just a product of his imagination driven by alcohol running in his veins?

He shook his head in a futile attempt to clear his mind. Giving up finally, he snuggled under the covers and closed his eyes. His last thoughts before succumbing to sleep were occupied by Emma and his attempt to commit to memory all the events that had happened on that wonderful day. None so glorious, though, as the kiss they had shared.

//

When Killian woke up a few hours later, he felt completely disoriented for a moment, having no idea where he was. The latent headache he started feeling did not help in the least to clear his mind, so he was tempted to close his eyes and try to sleep again.

It was then that he noticed a warm body beside him. When his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting in the room and observed a few strands of blond hair on the pillow, he gave such a start that he almost fell off the bed.

After releasing a quiet sigh, he dropped his head on the pillow again, trying to pull himself together. His mind gradually cleared up, the reminder of what happened last night coming in flashes, although he had the impression that there were still several gaps in his memory. He vaguely remembered the reason why the two of them had ended up sharing the bed, but everything else was so blurry that he felt unable to reach it.

The last image his brain registered before falling asleep again was the notion of a kiss. Killian supposed it was the memory of one of his usual dreams about Emma. The mere possibility that he might not remember the first kiss shared with Emma was so frustrating that he didn't even dare to consider it.

//

Present day

The muffled noises coming from the bar brought Killian back to reality. It was then that he realized that he had been locked in the office for longer than necessary. Still, he remained reluctant to get out of there and see Emma's reaction.

He felt a growing frustration taking hold of him. The recent kiss had somehow served as the trigger that had allowed him to recover the memory of a kiss that had been hidden in the form of a dream. Even so, he seemed unable to catch the details, the memory remaining more like a notion rather than a true experience, which only increased his frustration.

To make matters worse, he didn't even know what was going through Emma's mind. He wasn't sure if she had had the same feeling, if she had also completely forgotten that first kiss. By her reaction, he sensed that she had experienced something similar, which, joined with her reluctance to open her heart, had prompted her to run away.

A heavy sigh escaped between his lips as he ran his hand down his face and rubbed his chin in an attempt to control his fears and regain enough determination to face whatever it was that was about to come.

When Killian finally dared to get out of the office, his gaze inevitably traveled to Emma. She was chatting with Elsa so she didn't notice him at first. When their eyes met, he wasn't able to decipher her expression. Still, just before she looked back at Elsa, Killian detected the hint of a smile on her face. It was an almost imperceptible movement of her lips, but enough so that the flame of hope in Killian's heart began to burn strongly once more.

//

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)

What to expect in the next chapter? Christmas is coming which means a perfect setting to see how they face the consequences of their first (second) kiss.

[queenbirbs]

the way home | Ch. 1 | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Word count: 2,048

Summary: In which traveling to the past is only half the battle; or: Elena finds her way back.

Warnings: language

Notes: This series is complete. I’ll be posting chapters on here and over on AO3. Title taken from Tony Anderson’s The Way Home.  Continue on to chapter two.

Inspired by @choicesmonthlychallenge day 16 prompt “tick tock / time.” 

------

“You heard what my colleague said.” Robert’s voice sounds from the backseat, pulling her from her study of the countryside. “If this doesn’t work, then we may get stuck somewhere else with no--”

“Fuck that,” Elena cuts him off. “It’s going to work.”

He rolls his eyes at her in the rearview mirror, but says nothing more. They’ve spent enough time together over the last two years that he’s learned when to stop bothering with trying to change her mind. 

“Damn straight it better work,” her sister Gabby says around a mouthful of sour gummy worms. “I didn’t put two-thousand miles on my car for you all to get skunked.” 

Robert makes a face at the unusual term. “Are you forgetting that if we get caught then you’re an accessory before the fact?” he points out. 

“Yeah, but that won’t really affect my trade-in value, now, will it?”

Up ahead along the highway, a yellow sign reads: Welcome to New Mexico; Land of Enchantment. With Colorado in the rearview now, Elena pushes out a breath, trying to calm her racing heart as the pockmarked landscape passes in a blur. 

She’s tired of having her fate sealed, printed onto expensive cardstock, and ogled by museum-goers. What a life she led! How tragic, though, about Captain Mortemer spending all that time searching for her! the people at the museum tut and shake their heads before moving on to the next room. Elena’s tired of coming back home, of staring at that portrait of him and wondering if it’s the last she would ever see of him. 

During their four trips to the past, she’d managed to find Edward only twice. Though she was glad to be leaving it behind, there was something to be said about the ease of communication in the twenty-first century. After their last return, Elena and Robert didn’t bother with the faulty compass or time anomalies. Every deadend, every long night of research, and every weekend trip to scope out a lead was for the assurance that this would be their final voyage to the past. There would be no more time-hopping, no more disappearing for months at a time. With each stone they overturned, there was hope that it would bring them here. Here, she bemuses, to the long stretch of empty highway between southern Colorado and northern New Mexico. 

The trip to South Dakota had been a last-ditch effort. Robert’s old colleague from Oxford let him know about a warehouse hidden away in the Badlands, rumored to house hundreds of artifacts -- including the one they were after. Convincing Gabby to be their getaway driver was the hardest part; putting on a show of being a damsel in distress with a broken-down car and incapacitating the guards was much easier, in Elena’s opinion. 

Under her touch, the artifact in her hand glows the same eerie shade of blue as the compass. The whistle is a tarnished gold, engraved with the initials of a sailor who escaped H.M.S. Fletcher after its sinking off Cape Horn in 1890. News articles about the event were vague. The sailor’s diary, however, detailed his two days trapped in an air pocket, blowing his whistle desperately for help, and suddenly appearing on the shore eight years in the past. The only corroboration was the event log of a fisherman who watched the man “step out of thin air.” By all accounts, the tale was nothing more than a fantastical story. 

They reach Urraca Mesa with plenty of light left -- surprising, given that they were forced to hike around the scout ranch that owns the property. The mesa glows crimson in the afternoon sun, towering above them as they make their way up the trail. Elena’s duffel bag smacks against her thigh with every step. Along the next rise, Robert stops and consults his map with a scowl. 

“The lodestone minerals makes navigating this place a pain in the arse,” he grumbles as his compass refuses to cooperate. The needle jerks back and forth, never settling on a clear direction. 

“Does it have to be exactly on the ley line?” Elena asks, fidgeting with her bag’s strap to move it to a less sweat-drenched part of her back. 

“Of course it does. That’s why we drove all the way down here in the first place. The electromagnetic energy is at its peak along--”

“Okay, okay!” Gabby interrupts. “How about we try something else: do you have the exact coordinates?”

“Yes, but a compass doesn’t work like that.”

“Yeah, but a phone does,” she snaps back, tugging her phone from her backpack. “Lemme have ‘em.”

“We’re too far out of range for cell service.”

“Maybe, but it’s worth a shot.”

Robert sighs, then flips his map over for the coordinates scribbled on the back. Gabby’s fingers fly across her screen. Within a minute, the automated voice is telling them to continue south for 256 feet.

“Verizon,” she offers at his look of surprise. 

You have arrived at your destination! the phone announces as they come to a copse of trees underneath the mesa’s shadow. Elena isn’t sure she really believes in all of Robert’s theories about magnetic fields, but there’s something different here. An odd sensation tingles down her spine and through her fingers, as if she’s touching a live wire. The smell of ozone is heavy, as if a tremendous rain fell moments ago, though the desert is bone-dry. 

“Well?” Robert motions to the whistle in her hand. 

She lifts the whistle to her lips and blows. Its shrill cry pierces the air, the mesa’s steep walls echoing the noise. At first, nothing. Then, as if ripping a seam through the fabric of reality, a portal cleaves the open air before them. That blinding blue-and-white color shimmers before them. 

“Holy fuck.” Gabby grabs her arm and squeezes. “You-- you weren’t making this shit up.” 

At that, Robert turns and lifts an eyebrow at her, a smirk stretching across his face. 

“You think we’d make you drive two-thousand miles for a practical joke?”

“I mean, we used to play them on each other growing up,” she says. “But this would be one hell of a trick.” 

“No trick,” Elena tells her, turning her attention away from the portal and back to her sister. “But it does mean…” she trails off, her throat too tight to finish the sentence. 

With tears welling in her eyes, Gabby throws her arms around her and hauls her in for a tight hug. The portal sparkles against Elena’s closed eyes; tears drip steadily down her face. 

“You’re really sweaty,” Gabby complains against her hair, prompting a laugh from her sister. “I hope you didn’t forget to bring anything, because there’s no CVS on the other side.”

“I’ll be okay. I have everything I need. And there’s always the local market.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’re stock-full of tampons and condoms.” 

Robert clears his throat, gesturing to the portal when both sisters glance over at him. 

“I’m sorry, but we really need to go, sooner rather than later. I’m not sure how long the portal will stay open. If it closes, we may not get another chance.” 

Elena nods, crushing her sister against her one last time before letting go.

“I know you’ll have a badass sword or whatever, but make sure you use those moves I taught you,” Gabby tells her. “I didn’t close up shop at the gym for a whole day just for you to rely on weapons only.”

“Okay,” Elena nods. “I will.”  

“And try to get a message to me. I’ll keep an eye out for any new pirate documents and artifacts. There’s a subreddit I follow that keeps me up-to-date.”

“Okay, I will.”

“And tell that little boy of yours, whenever he comes along, that he has a really cool aunt.”

“Okay,” Elena promises, her voice breaking around the words, “I will.”

Nodding at Robert, she walks with him to the portal’s edge. This close, she can smell the salty wind and feel the humidity of the Caribbean. Glancing back at her sister, she gives her a watery smile. 

“Love you,” they say in tandem, prompting the other to chuckle. 

After a final wave, Elena turns and links her arm through Robert’s. 

“Ready?”

“Ready.” 

Together, they step into the portal, and the world closes up behind them. For the briefest moment, she glimpses that swirling mass of colors that surrounded the Intrepid during the chase with the Admiral. Then: white sand; a blazing, blue sky; palm trees swaying along the curve of a coastline. The salty wind that she caught the scent of earlier rushes past, a cool balm against her sweaty skin. Across the blue stretch in front of them, ships cruise toward the shore, their sails trimmed for an easy docking. Through the trees to the west, a bustling town sits above a busy port. 

“Where are we?” Elena asks, squinting at the buildings to see if she can recognize where they’ve landed. 

“Santo Domingo -- though you’d know it as the Dominican Republic,” Robert explains. “That white flag with the odd-looking red ex is a symbol of the Spanish empire. The ships out there are flying the same colors.”

“Okay. Now, more importantly, when are we?” she asks.

“The Spanish ruled this half of Hispaniola between 1697 and 1795.”

“Oh, yeah, you know,” she scoffs, “just a hundred-year span of time.” 

“Quiet, I’m not finished. Do you notice something off about the buildings? Extensive damage like that isn’t caused by a tropical storm. That would be hurricane-force winds.” As he lectures, he swings the bag on his shoulder round and starts to dig through it. “In 1754, Santo Domingo was hit with what would’ve been a category three hurricane. Twelve ships were lost.”

“That history degree of yours is coming in clutch,” she says, grinning when he scowls at the slang term.

“Our only real way of knowing, of course, is to go into town and find out.” 

Pulling a tube from his bag, Robert bends to set it down in front of the portal. She forgot it was there at all, too excited at the prospect of returning home. “I’d advise you to retreat,” he tells her as he backs away, a pistol in his other hand. 

Elena heeds his warning and follows him several paces away. She claps her hands over her ears just as Robert pulls the trigger. The gunpowder explodes into a ball of fire, eating away at the portal until it collapses in on itself, blinking from existence. 

“So.” Her words sound muffled to her, still ringing from the blast. “That’s why you didn’t want to fly to South Dakota.”

“Not really. I just hate flying.”

“Convenient that you picked a century when airplanes haven’t been invented yet.” 

Robert grins at her and shrugs, though the jovial expression drops from his face as he gestures to the whistle, still clutched in her hand. 

“For the next item on the agenda, you need to get rid of that.”

“What? No!” Elena takes a step back and holds it against her chest. 

“Elena--”

“Not until I find Edward. If we went too far in time, then this was all for nothing.”

He settles his hands on his hips and shakes his head at her. 

“If you hold onto that, you’ll be drawing unwanted attention to yourself. There are those that can… sense power in objects. You’d be wise to toss that thing into the sea.”

“Later,” she snaps, then hesitates, trying to reign in the irritation at his lack of understanding. “Look, I know that for you, your goal is complete: you’re back. But mine isn’t.” 

Robert grimaces, glancing away and towards the ocean beyond. Finally, the set of his shoulders loosens and his breath escapes him in a sigh. He digs through the bag at his side for a moment, before pulling out a long, gold chain. 

“Here.” He takes the whistle from her and loops it through the chain. “So you don’t lose it in the meantime.” 

Elena settles the necklace across her chest; the whistle disappears into the top of her shirt, hidden from view. 

“Thanks.”

“Now,” Robert gestures towards the town, “let’s bury these bags and go see about this pirate of yours.”

------

References:

The warehouse full of artifacts in the Badlands is a reference to Warehouse 13, a show about a warehouse full of artifacts in the Badlands.

[caffeinecortisol]

So, contextual downsides (showing the bad here to emphasize the good, hang in there)

brought the kids back home from 3 weeks out of town, have been living with my parents for longer than we ever expected, stressed about finances and now I'm stressed about finding somewhere else to move, somewhere good for all of us, suddenly pretty soon

the kids got me sick - really sick - and I'm still stumbling around after two miserable germy toddlers all night, scared out of my mind for them while they cough, finally have a COVID test scheduled for this weekend, but have missed way more work than they originally gave me as time off

my husband came home at last - was away for almost two months, though we just visited him there in the middle of it - and is furious, adjusting poorly, mad at me for doing too little or needing too much from him, having a fight I totally expected but can't manage right now

But then today. The sun comes out, it's 75 degrees. I open the window and I'm - not exaggerating, it's surreal, all at once for the first time in months - totally at peace. Resting in bed, feeling more well and calm than I have all week. In my childhood bedroom, familiar trees swaying and birds thrumming, light shining all green as it filters in. My secret that the screen is out, still calming for no reason, still secret. I hear my children in the yard, in the sunshine, far off, happy.

Outside, my husband, under the window. Being kind to my mother's requests, though he didn't plan to work on chores today. I know that's monumental generosity, even if nobody else knows. Discussing amiably. She needs him to dig up another baby tree that's growing too close to the house, and has been ignored there a few years until it's become too big to forget. I know he'll do it, of course, he always does - but I'm surprised when I hear him talking about packing the dirt so he can get it all up at once, about watching to make sure he's not tearing any roots, trying to get the whole ball of the thing without hurting it.

Again, I realize, he's going to adopt another orphan tree, he's going to grow it in a giant pot on the front walk, like all the line of saplings he's collected for the past three years, I can see it at once: we're going to end up moving away someday soon and bringing a whole baby forest with us. I love trees so damn much. I love my husband like it punches me in the chest sometimes, all at once for new small things.

I'd given him one condition, when we went to look for houses, before the lockdown - more trees. Whatever you think I want, it's more. Way back in high school, we used to argue in class over his dry state or my green one; it was always down to the same unwinnable comparison, in the end, the determining factor for only me - we have infinite perfect trees here and so I probably can't survive elsewhere. We dreamed up a home someday, way before we were in love with each other, all the fantastical joking teenagers do about the future: a treehouse, we agreed. Actually, one big home all inside a giant tree. Spiral staircase I never wanted to climb so he promised he would bring up the groceries if I'd give him his kitchen on the top floor. Sure thing. That was before he went to the desert, to war; when the promises we made each other were light, and comfortable, easily shifting things. He left me some hand-me-downs when he enlisted: a necklace I've never taken off; a t-shirt with a picture of a treehouse. I loved him tremendously by then, I was so mad.

He doesn't care about forests really, likes mountains and open landscapes, but he loves me. And he loves gardening, once I got him on it, for therapy - a surprise to him, which, that part surprised me. It occurs to me now, remembering the first home and the very bad years and making a garden and planting things in it, just because I wanted them, when he didn't care at all about the garden until it was suddenly the thing he cared about most, worked all day maintaining and improving, a routine in the morning and a success story in the evening, a quiet thing to enjoy without fear - it occurs to me like a knife to my eye, and I'm ashamed I never gave him credit: the house he chose, he moved me to, he said because it was good rent in a fine neighborhood, away from trouble, close enough to base. I liked it outside there, wanted a garden and to be outside, in the backyard best of all, because the whole woods grew up behind our yard for miles. I figured it was an accident. It's seven years later, now, and I can't believe I've never known better.

My husband gets our son to put the shovel in the dirt a few times, and I can hear them and nobody knows it, they're just having fun for themselves, just the way it should be. I'm in my original bedroom, a whole different person than I originally was, and still in love with him. I love how he thrives on cultivating and improving small details over time, he's got so much energy for parenting and just two boys to wrap up in it, he stretches that love and sensitivity over unexpected things. He's proud of his little trees here. Every year he gives them each a bigger pot. I secretly think he's named them, never seriously, but little petnames in his head. I know I catch him when he's watering them in the evening, talking to them, spinning them again to get even sunlight. Reminding them they're doing a good job. I realize for the thousandth time, I need to remind him of that, more. He's doing a good job.

I've never noticed before today, but I've never lived in a home without trees behind it. Not as a toddler, before real memory. Not as a child, and not in the college dorms. Not when I moved to our first place, sight unseen, with a car full of stuff and troubles to unpack with my new husband. Not our next rental when he got out, and we landed in a split-level while I was 8 months pregnant - every step of the way, I've been at the edge of the woods. And of course, even now, back at home, listening out the window. Smelling green air and feeling green breeze. I could move again, probably, when I'm feeling better. The boys can grow up by a forest. Could move the whole family somewhere, if it's green. Move there and make it greener, together. Things will probably be good. I'm glad already for the best parts, and still often surprised by sweetness. We're growing lingering moments of peace.

[tyrannysaurusfloof]

Bitter Taste | Shyan

Pairing: Shane/Ryan Tags: First Kiss, Developing Relationship, Fluff.  Word Count: 2324 Series: Barren Landscapes - Odd stories of Shane and Ryan on road trips. Summary: It had been an odd summer. Filming Unsolved was always odd. Be it constant travelling for Supernatural, or depressing and gritty details for True Crime, Shane had found both seasons leaving an odd and unappealing taste in his mouth after filming. He had said nothing to Ryan because he still truly enjoyed their work together, and enjoyed spending time with Ryan, but things felt different. Off kilter almost, like there was a tension beneath the surface that needed to be spoken about and yet hadn’t been identified. As Shane’s hands began to change to a dusty black from prodding about in the engine, he decided to think about Ryan instead. Those thoughts always brought him happiness, a quiet comfort in the lackluster process that his brain had become. Things were sluggish around him, unless it was about Ryan. A/N: Listening to Jet Pack Blues by FOB and sitting in a hot car with the window rolled down made me think of these boys on a road trip and it spiralled into this. It’s the beginning of a series of the boys on a road trip to somewhere I think.

-- Read on AO3 --

“Pull over.”

Ryan spoke the command in a relatively calm voice considering the situation they were in. They were driving down a thin barren road, barely big enough for one car, in the middle of nowhere, and several warnings, including the ‘check engine’ light, were flashing on the dashboard and their rented car was not doing so well. It made a grinding noise as they moved and Shane felt the steering heavy under his hands as he maneuvered the vehicle onto a rocky patch off the side of the road, the passenger’s side brushing against the pussy willows and weeds of the fields around them. He honestly couldn’t recall where they were going to, which episode of Unsolved they were travelling to film, or why they had taken a car for themselves instead of going with the crew, and it didn’t matter right now.

All that mattered right now was fixing the car.

Or hoping that one of them had cell service to call for assistance.

It was hotter in the car than the temperature outside, Shane noted as he climbed from the vehicle, not bothering to check the road before he did. They had not seen another car in around three hours, and considering the landscape was simply barren, cracked earth spotted with grass, weeds, pussy willows and tree stumps, Shane didn’t expect them to see any cars or other people for another couple at least.

He moved to the boot of the car and shimmied their bags aside to find the tool kit that he had thrown in. Shane didn’t pretend to have a mastery of mechanics, but there was always a niggling part of him that said he should be prepared for long journeys in the wilderness, probably instilled from trips with his dad. Or his boy scout days. And so there was a tool kit for basic mechanics in the boot, hidden by Shane’s bags, and he grabbed it now to check under the hood, pausing only to pop it open with a lever inside the car and grab the manual itself for the vehicle.

Ryan was staring out into the wilderness when Shane rounded the front of the car. He had an eye for aesthetics and places that would make beautiful pictures, and true to form his phone was in his hands, tilted landscape but the camera wasn’t open. No, instead Ryan seemed lost in thought, so Shane left him to it, finding he easily lost himself in his thoughts too as he propped up the hood of the car and looked inside.

It had been an odd summer.

Filming Unsolved was always odd. Be it constant travelling for Supernatural, or depressing and gritty details for True Crime, Shane had found both seasons leaving an odd and unappealing taste in his mouth after filming. He had said nothing to Ryan because he still truly enjoyed their work together, and enjoyed spending time with Ryan, but things felt different. Off kilter almost, like there was a tension beneath the surface that needed to be spoken about and yet hadn’t been identified.

As Shane’s hands began to change to a dusty black from prodding about in the engine, he decided to think about Ryan instead. Those thoughts always brought him happiness, a quiet comfort in the lackluster process that his brain had become. Things were sluggish around him, unless it was about Ryan. Honestly, Shane was no fool to what they meant, to what these thoughts meant in terms of his heart, but he had yet to speak that realisation aloud. And he probably never would. The friendship he shared with Ryan was too important to mess it up with complicated feelings, and there was always the anxious part of his brain that told him it was better to have the close friendship they had now rather than the awkward one that would develop if Ryan rejected him.

Shane always thought in ifs. It wasn’t a case of “when” Ryan rejected him, because Shane wasn’t sure if the man would. They shared such intimate moments that Shane could believe that Ryan would reciprocate those feelings, but it changed nothing.

Bugs chirped around them as Shane wiped his forehead and pulled back from being bent over the engine.

“I didn’t know you were so good with cars.”

Ryan’s voice came out of nowhere and it actually succeeded in making Shane jump, resulting in him banging his head hard on the raised hood of the car.

“Holy shi-, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a moment before they both started laughing, the sound drowning out the bugs and slight breeze and echoing around them.

“So, care to share where you got so good with cars?” Ryan asked and Shane smiled, his eyes creasing as he did.

Ryan liked it when Shane smiled like that.

“I’m not that great,” Shane replied honestly, “But I think I can get us at least to civilisation before we die.”

“Can’t say it wouldn’t be nice to haunt this place.” Ryan joked, “It’s beautiful.”

“It is.”

They both fell silent, Ryan crossing the road to take more pictures and Shane bending back into the car again. He couldn’t really tell what was wrong, but he fiddled and he hummed to himself, and twenty minutes later when he turned the ignition, the car came on with only one warning light. It was the ‘check engine’ light, but it was better than before.

Shane climbed back out to call to Ryan and found he couldn’t see him. In any other place he might not have been that concerned, but this place had nowhere to hide, even for the little guy, and there was no denying the thrill of fear that shot down Shane’s spine.

“Ryan?!” He called, voice steady, “Did you fall asleep in the grass?”

Silence greeted him.

Slamming the hood of the car down, switching it off and grabbing his backpack from the boot, Shane locked the car and began to follow the crushed grass and bent fronds that showed where Ryan had walked. Internally he was cursing Ryan for wandering off. It was bad enough the car had all but broken down in the middle of nowhere, but they really didn’t need to be dealing with a potential injury, or even Ryan disappearing for a few hours.

It was getting dark already.

“Ryan!��

He kept calling Ryan’s name, hoping the desperation stayed out of it as he turned and saw the car was a speck in the distance.

How had he walked so far?

Why had he walked so far?

It didn’t make sense, Shane didn’t see any shots out here that would be aesthetically pleasing than those near the car, but he also didn’t have Ryan’s eyes or vision for things like this.

Damn, it was getting dark fast.

“Ryan! Answer me!” He called out, not caring this time if the desperation crept into his tone, and though he expected silence, his heart hammered when he heard a faint response.

“Shane!”

The echo of Ryan’s voice sounded like it was coming from below him, which was odd. Scanning the ground, Shane spotted Ryan’s phone almost immediately, scooping it up and noticing the screen was a little scratched. Looking a little further on, Shane finally saw where Ryan most likely had gone - a hole in the cracked earth.

Sure enough, when he looked down into the darkness, using his phone as a torch, Ryan’s terrified eyes shone back.

This would have been an amusing bit had they been filming Unsolved. Shane would make jokes about Ryan being down a hole, most likely distracting him as the crew fashioned a way to get him out. If it was a ghost infested place, Shane would have definitely been singing to Ryan to keep him calm, probably Mama Mia like he always did, and maybe that was what Ryan was expecting right now as he stared up at Shane from the bottom of a hole, but this wasn’t a bit. They weren’t filming Unsolved and they didn’t have a crew behind them. It was just Ryan and Shane and fading light and the heat was still high and who knew what animals would be out here when the sun fully went down.

Everyone said Shane didn’t scare easily, and that was true. But right now, he was scared.

“Are you okay?” He called down, testing the ground around the top of the hole to make sure he wouldn’t go in after Ryan. “D’you hurt anything?”

“My ankle a bit, and my wrist.” Ryan replied, voice still echoey. “But I don’t think it’s bad. Can you reach to get me out?”

“Maybe.”

No matter what, Shane had to get Ryan up and out of the hole. Leaving him was not an option because he knew he probably wouldn’t find him again, not in this landscape with this panic running through his head. Ryan seemed to be able to tell Shane was scared, because his own expression changed from the familiar scared one, to a familiar smile.

“You got this Shane, you’re eighty percent leg so you’ve got a lot of you to dangle in.”

The words made Shane laugh and he felt better, but something else was pressing against his tongue. He had just been telling himself he didn’t want to ruin this friendship, and yet now he was in this situation, Shane felt he needed to say something. The odd tension between them, the bitter taste on Shane’s tongue when they filmed, the ache he was left with when they went home for the day, or they worked on different things and didn’t spend as much time together, he needed to tell Ryan what that was.

What it all was.

They would be forever changed when Shane got Ryan free, but he was willing to take that risk.

“I have to tell you something.” Shane began as he lay on the ground and reached into the hole, as bent as he dared be to make sure he had enough strength to pull them both up.

“Can it wait?” Ryan asked, clambouring to his feet with a hiss of pain and reaching for Shane’s. Their fingertips were a hair's breadth from brushing against each other and Ryan cursed. “I wanna get out of here.”

“I can speak and help.”

Shane sat up and stripped off the jacket and backpack he was wearing, already formulating an idea. He tied the sleeve of the jacket to the backpack handle, and held the other, before lowering it into the hole.

“Ryan-.”

“Look Shane...I know. I know what you’re going to say.” Ryan interrupted, grabbing the bag and testing it. “I know you need to say it but...but I don’t know if now is the time!”

“You’re probably right.” Shane laughed mirthlessly, “Yeah, it probably isn’t.” He felt Ryan’s weight on the bag and began to pull, straining with all he had to lift Ryan up and out of the hole.

“But-.”

“You need to get it out.” Ryan completed, “Despite being afraid it’ll ruin things?”

“How do you know?” Shane grunted, feeling a small sense of relief as he saw the top of the backpack appear. “How?”

“Because I-.”

Ryan’s words were interrupted by a small tearing sound and Shane moving fast. His jacket sleeve was ripping, not strong enough to hold Ryan’s weight hanging freely as he was and Shane needed to do something. He reached blindly into the hole and managed to grab the backpack, Ryan shouting out a line of expletives as the jacket fully tore and fell down into the dusty darkness. The hold Shane had on the bag was cutting off circulation in his fingers, he was pretty sure he had cut himself in his desperation, but he still had hold of Ryan, and with his remaining strength coupled with adrenaline, he hauled Ryan up so he could grab the side of the hole and help get onto solid ground.

They lay there side by side panting for a while, listening to the bugs and the howls and the breeze of nature around them, fingers brushing, chests heaving.

“You don’t...have to say it.” Ryan wheezed after what felt like an eternity lay in breathy silence.

“It’ll ruin everything.” Shane muttered, “But I have to.”

“Won’t ruin anything.” Ryan said, sitting up and examining his ankle with another hiss of pain. “Shane...I know how it feels. I wanna tell you stuff too but I’m also afraid of how things will change. So...why say anything?”

Ryan’s lips were chapped as they pressed against Shane’s, and for a moment Shane forgot how to both breath and kiss. He could feel Ryan’s chest vibrate with laughter before he was kissing back, hand finding Ryan’s where it rested on the ground and curling his fingers around it. Ryan was trembling, from excitement or fear or cold Shane couldn’t tell because he was trembling too.

“Change isn’t always bad.” Ryan whispered as they broke apart, gasping again in the cool air, “It’s also really good.”

Shane nodded, heart thumping. “We should...go back to the car.”

“You’ll have to help me.”

His arm slid easily under Ryan’s shoulders despite their heat difference, and as they hobbled back to the car, Shane found himself thinking of the beginning of their day. When the car had broken down he had been unsure, tense, and happy to sit on his secret for as long as necessary to keep this relationship at its peak. And even in the part of his mind where he had imagined Ryan would like him back, he had never anticipated or entertained the actuality of it.

But when Ryan kissed him again as Shane lent him against the door to open it for him, he wished he had said something sooner and taken that leap to clear the tension, because that bitter taste was gone.

Notes:

[fuwafuwamedb]

The Mummy Pt 5 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh)

Previously: One , Two, Three, Four 

___

As much as she expected the boat to whisk them off into adventure, leaving the great city of Cairo behind them, the ferry was anything but quick. Hakuno found herself settling her bags into her room, her eyes drifting to the man placed in the adjoining room, and then she scurried for the safety of the side deck.

Books were her solace today.

The sweet fragrance of ancient wisdom and dried ink came wafting up lightly alongside the cool breeze of the air. The sunrise, so beautiful nearby, was gifted the great expanse of Cairo. Smoke stacks gave dark shadows to those clean skies. Honks and beeps from the motor cars were gracing the air, ruining the far off mystery vibes that the city could have been still giving off a bit with its older buildings.

Oh, but who was she kidding.

Taking a minute to watch the city continue to pass, she knew she was drifting through the same wishful thinking that so many went through when delving into the intrigue and mystery of the ancients.

No great epiphany could bring back ancient towers and charismatic pharaohs.

No science or archeology was going to let them fully understand the words that these ancient people had set down in stone.

Wishing for such things was exactly what drove so many out of the desert sands.

Her peers often drifted to own museums in Europe or elsewhere. They settled themselves down for preserving what was found in these very wild areas so that children could dream and adults could marvel without the pains of understanding the magnitude of what lay before them.

A few pictures, from what she had heard, would be taken now of artifacts so that future members of society could appreciate the art. The great invention of the camera was becoming slightly more commonplace, allowing for librarians and explorers to record their work in more than just text. Soon, perhaps they would be able to make hieroglyphic works with pictures, conveying emotions and words without a single word!

A soft laugh came to her at that.

She resumed her reading.

Or rather- Hakuno did her best to continue reading.

It was hard to focus, all things considered.

Gilgamesh had been arrested. He’d been locked up and the man, Kirei, had said that he would pay to see the man hang. Did that mean that Gilgamesh was someone to be wary of?

Sure, he was strong. His grip was like a vice, holding her tightly when he’d…

When he’d…

Hakuno pressed a couple fingers to her lips, her eyes drifting to the sandy landscape now.

She wasn’t enamored. No, not in the slightest. When she had gone home, she hadn’t been thinking of long haired blonds breaking through bars or climbing out of hanging courtyards. Her mind hadn’t been on the golden haired man curling those fingers into a fist and bopping the man, Kirei, straight in the face.

He’d just had to kiss her, hadn’t he?

Why bother?

It wasn’t like he had been like some kind of muscled Adonis or anything. He hadn’t been looking anything like he did now. Kissing her didn’t gain favor, not when she was more married to the work she did. He could have just said Hamunaptra and she would have been throwing money like a fool.

The promise of being able to move further in life towards her goals and be able to help those who helped her…

The sun was crossing the skies as the ship drifted through the river. The camels here and there that roamed free were moving faster than this damn ferry, but, what was one to do?

“I don’t like him.”

She had to say it aloud. Just once.

There was nothing about that strange, snakelike gaze of his that had interested her. There was nothing about that blond hair that had looked touchable this morning. He hadn’t had a face that was-

“It was just a kiss,” Hakuno growled, ducking her face into her book a bit more.

One kiss.

That was it.

Maybe he’d been trying to bite her or kill her with his mouth or something. He’d gone feral and decided to use the only weapon he had at his disposal.

That was it.

There was a vizier in one of her readings that had gone that insane. It certainly wasn’t out of the question if the man had been privy to noxious fumes or something.

“Here you are.”

The sun had sunk over the horizon. The lights of the ferry were going now, a server giving her a light dinner before the man now stood before her.

“You haven’t eaten much.”

“I was refreshing myself on some details on Hamunaptra.”

And thinking. Mostly thinking.

The blond nodded a bit, rolling out a-

“Did I miss something? Are we going into a war for a pharaoh or something?” Hakuno held up one of the pistols, almost afraid to even touch the trigger lest the thing go off.

“There’s evil out there.”

“Evil?” Was he serious right now?

Hakuno shook her head at the man. He was feeding that insanity plea her mind had been providing him.

“Well, you can enjoy…finding evil. I’m going to find a book.”

Gilgamesh glanced at the book in her lap.

“Not this one, obviously.” Hakuno closed it, pulling her dinner over to herself and taking a few bites before continuing. “I want to find a very ancient artifact and book. Although, Enkidu considers it more of just another treasure.”

“I bet they do,” Gilgamesh purred, settling into the seat across from her. His pistol’s chamber was spun as he loaded the weapon. “What’s their relevance to you again?”

“They’re my sibling. And, anyway, if you’re going to be helping, I do have to tell you to behave around him and myself-“

“Still mad about me kissing you or something?”

She faltered.

Was it obvious?

“I-I mean, I guess you could call that a kiss…”

He paused. “You guess?”

Hakuno nodded.

This was good. Leave him understanding that the work came first. His pleasure-seeking activities could be done with others. She wouldn’t think about it.

“Kissing normally is a two-way practice, not something thrown onto another person suddenly and without good reason… But since you want to talk about that,” Hakuno glanced his way, keeping her fork and food close for the excuse of not being able to respond because of eating. “Why did you kiss me?”

The man glanced at her a moment before shrugging. His attention went back to his pistols.

And then-

“I don’t know. Seemed entertaining at the time. You amused me enough that I figured I was gonna die, I might as well steal one last piece of pleasure before seeing the next life.”

…

Hakuno stared at him.

Her book was shut. Her legs lifted her up, carrying her passed him as she tried her best not to think of what that idiot had just said. She wouldn’t bother.

Gods, she’d been thinking about him all damned day!

“Hey! Where are you going?!”

“Good night, Gilgamesh,” Hakuno growled, biting her lip to keep from saying a word more.

Dick was a good word for him right now.

Asshole would also work.

Maybe throwing him and his pistols overboard to find that great evil in the waters of the Nile-

You need him, Hakuno, she reminded herself. Walk away.

She didn’t stop until she reached the doors to the inside of the ferry. Even then, her only goal was going straight to her room.

Fuck that guy.

[the-recusants-sigil]

Hey again!! Thank you again for the brilliant request- I’ve been editing while I work all day, so sorry for the delay! BUUUUUUT here is Part 2, with Xaldin~

Enjoy! <3

Xaldin

Words: 2784

-It didn't happen often, but at this particular moment, Xaldin was in deep shit.

-His mission was straightforward, and in an ideal situation, there wouldn't have been any danger to begin with. How a simple reconnaissance mission could go so horribly wrong was beyond him.

-In a rush to get out the door that morning, he had skipped eating and hadn't bothered to prepare. No potions, no ethers, not even a packed lunch.Nothing. Though he hadn’t eaten much the day before, either, he wasn't going to bother going back for anything. After all, it was just a pithy little recon mission; what could possibly go wrong?

-A lot, as it turns out.

-He was just supposed to be surveying the land around Beast's Castle. That was all. He was to report back with details about the landscape, the foliage, the climate and anything else that stuck out to him as noteworthy; basically, he was scouting for possible synthesis materials and nothing more. He was not to engage in combat of any sort with anything unless it became entirely necessary.

-An hour in, and what had happened? Wolves. Wolves happened. 

-He noticed them following him at a distance, first. Just a few, with jet black fur, watching him for a few moments and then darting off into the cover of the thick underbrush. They weren’t aggressive, or so he thought. But after the sun went down, he noticed more and more sets of yellow eyes peering at him. Surrounding him.

-It was a large pack, larger than he'd ever seen. Normally, dealing with them would be a cakewalk. In terms of firepower, Xaldin was certainly at an advantage with several lances and power over wind. But these wolves were different. He hadn't seen it at first, but after impaling one  of the beasts, it occurred to him that these were, in fact, Heartless. They hadn't immediately seemed like it, but as the first few burst into clouds of shadow, he was certain that these weren't actually run-of-the-mill timberwolves. Three more of them charged him head-on while the rest of the pack closed in on him. As soon as he dealt with those three, another two leapt at him from behind. Every time he dealt with one, it seemed two more were there to take its place.

-It was more than he could keep up with; the swarm of Heartless was faster and stronger than he'd anticipated, and they were starting to chip away at him. They lunged as soon as he turned his back, gnashing teeth and razor claws tearing at his cloak and ripping  through his flesh. 

-At this point, tired and hungry with nothing to heal himself, Xaldin knew he had to find a way out. With a shout and a strong gust of wind, he propelled himself over the ring of Heartless and towards, what he hoped, was safety. He had hardly any energy to use his powers, though, and barely any energy left to run. And where would he go, he wondered? He had gotten soft. This would have been nothing for him to deal with before.

-Exhausted, hungry, and resigned to failure, the Whirlwind Lancer raised his right hand and summoned a corridor of  darkness to take him home. Something heavy crashed into him from behind; the set of jaws clamping down on his forearm and the Heartless sending him tumbling through the corridor were the last things he remembered.

-At least, from that world, anyway. He could tell right away that something was off. This was, decidedly, not The World That Never Was, because he'd never seen a damn cornfield anywhere in that world. There was also no moon in the sky, whereas back home, the faintest beginnings of a heart-shaped moon hung low in the sky. Something had gone wrong. He knew another corridor just wasn't possible right now, and he briefly wondered what he could do.

-The opportunity to grab a bite to eat had presented itself, though, and he plucked an ear of corn from a stalk before peeling it and biting down. He spit it out immediately- raw corn was tough to chew and, frankly, disgusting.

-He could hear the occasional roaring, whooshing sound not far from him, though, and an acrid smell hung in the air like something had been burning. But it was something, and anything was better than standing around this field with who knows what kind of Heartless. He pushed his way through the stalks as he marched towards the sounds, lifting his boots high to keep them from getting stuck in the loamy soil. It couldn't have been a strawberry patch, oh no. It just had to be fucking corn.

-And suddenly, as he shoved aside the last few cornstalks, he was out in the open. Back on a paved road, just like the roads in the World That Never Was. There was that rumbling noise again--

-A truck horn blared at him and he jumped out of the way just in time as the massive thing went barreling past. Up close, he felt the roar of its engine in his chest, and as it passed, he counted his blessings he hadn't ended up plastered onto the front of it. He watched the eighteen-wheeler thunder down the road and disappear into the night. Apart from the near-death experience, the place didn’t seem too bad. The stars were very visible here, unlike the World That Never Was, and it seemed... peaceful. If he squinted, Xaldin could make out a cluster of lights shimmering in the distance. City lights.

-He looked down the road to see another pair of lights coming, this time from the opposite direction, and he summoned what energy he had left to wave vigorously at the oncoming car.

-You hadn't expected any surprises on your trip back to college. That morning, you'd said a tearful goodbye to your family several hundred miles away, and now you were on the home stretch- five more miles of corn and alfalfa, over the bridge, and back to business. So when a tall man in a torn black coat jumped in front of your Jeep and began flailing wildly, to say you were a little offput would be putting it mildly. As you slammed on your brakes and brought your car to a screeching halt, the man collapsed, falling face first onto the asphalt.

-You were dead tired and not in the mood to deal with any of this, if you were perfectly honest, but what were you going to do- leave him to be vulture fodder? He was still breathing, that much you could see, but you'd want someone to help if you were in his position. You flicked on your hazards and got out, examining the man carefully, one hand on a small pocketknife just in case.

-...............

-How you managed to smuggle him into your apartment without your roommates asking questions was a goddamn miracle. It was also fortunate that you had the unit right next to your elevator, so loading him onto one of the move-in day dollies and getting him up to the fifth floor was a cakewalk.

-In no time, you'd laid out some towels and dumped him unceremoniously onto the couch. He was covered in large gashes, bruises, scrapes, and dirt. You were able to get a closer look at him now: he was tall and broad-chested, with muscles that visibly strained the fabric of his coat. He had long, black hair twisted into braids and prominent sideburns. He looked like some kind of... warrior. While you gathered some supplies to at least clean and dress the wounds you could see, you wondered briefly if he was an actor or something.

-So what had left him this badly hurt? Whoever did this could, and hopefully would, catch a battery and assault charge at the very lightest for what they'd done. 

-The second you touched his arm with a cloth wet with peroxide, his eyes flew open and he looked around wildly. They were an intense violet- mesmerizing, totally unique, like tanzanite.

-”What are you doing? Stop that.”

-You certainly hadn't expected him to be so rude. “Excuse me? I'm trying to help you!”

-”You don't know what you're doing, lass,” he growled, taking the cloth from your hands and undoing the zipper of his coat. The black undershirt he wore was also in tatters, making it even easier for you to see the definition of his abs. It occurred to you, then, that this guy was fucking ripped, and it might not be a great idea to piss him off. “Why did you stop to help me?”

-”Couldn't just leave you. So... do you remember what happened to you? Can you tell me your name?”

-”...Xaldin.”

-”Come again?”

-”My name is Xaldin.”

-”Ah.” The two of you sat in silence for a while. He continued cleaning and dressing his wounds, and you contemplated the whole scenario. Either he remembered everything and wasn't talking, or he remembered perfectly and didn't want to say. Whatever the case, you decided not to press the issue. 

-After a long pause, you finally spoke. “I'm Y/N. I forgot to ask, do you want some water? Something to eat?”

-He looked up, eyebrows raised. “Tea would be lovely if you have any, lass. And anything to eat, really. Very hospitable of you.” He was gruff, straight to the point, yet... something about the way he held himself betrayed that rough exterior. And he hadn't tried to murder you or steal any of your things, which he would have had no trouble doing. That thought made you feel a bit better.

-It dawned on you, though, that there was no food in the apartment because you'd been gone for three months, so you carefully helped him down to the car and drove across town in search of a drive thru open at two in the morning. Finally, you settled on a local burger joint, and as you pulled in front of the menu, you began rattling off recommendations. He wasn't clueless, though- he'd seen these things before, once.

-Those went out the window, though, because Xaldin leaned past you, out the car window, and started ordering. “I'd like two large Number Fives with extra bacon, curly fries with both, and two chicken sandwiches with a side order of chicken tenders. And-”

-You cut him off furiously. “Xaldin! I don't have that much money!” you hissed. He shrugged lightly.

-”I do,” he replied, producing a heaping handful of little yellow... somethings. They were sparkly, sure, but you doubted very much that they would let you pay with what resembled a handful of D&D dice.

-”$48.20, please pull forward.”

-”Shit!” You cried. “Dude, what the hell?”

-”Don't worry about it,” Xaldin said as you pulled forward to the cashier.

-Of course, when Xaldin said “don't worry about it”, what he really meant was, “I'm going to intimidate the cashier into giving us that food”. The young man took one look at Xaldin and decided it wasn't worth the trouble; you sped off towards your apartment with two massive bags of food. Maybe picking this guy up was a mistake?

-But over the next few days, you became accustomed to each other. He stayed in the apartment, for the most part, resting and reading the books on your shelves. You watched him glance through Romeo and Juliet before bitterly flinging it to the side. In your conversations, you were quick to note that Xaldin was a pretty angry guy. Or, at least, it seemed that way. Other times, he was almost eerily placid, like he wasn't quite aware that he should be feeling or acting a certain way. He mentioned heartbreak and a past lover offhandedly once, and it made you wonder just how much this poor man had been through.

-He talked a bit about work, too, and how exhausting it had been. After a surprise termination at his old job, with no severance package or anything, the new job had worked him to the bone from day one. He worked with most of the same coworkers, which was both a positive and a negative according to him. Xaldin noted that this was his first proper “weekend” off in years, and of course it would be spent covered in lacerations.

-At this point, you produced a tall glass and a bottle of red wine from your wine rack. You  uncorked it for him and filled his glass about halfway.

-”Drink up,” you offered. “Sounds like you need it.”

-You spent more time together than you intended to, ditching syllabus week in favor of taking care of Xaldin. There was just something about him that drew you to him. It could have been his voice, the way he worded things, watching his walls come down bit by bit... 

-And just as you enjoyed being with him, you were starting to grow on him, too. He dared not smile in front of you, goodness no, but he showed his growing affection in different ways. When he picked up a package of sausages in Target and tore it open right then and there to get to the good stuff, you panicked and told him that it needed to be paid for first. He listened.

-He picked up on the hints of sadness in your voice when you talked about home, about the family you'd left behind, about all of the pressure on you to strive for greatness when, really, you just wanted to find happiness. Xaldin understood, and for the first time in a long time, he was genuinely sympathetic.

-It was at precisely that point that alarm bells started going off in his head and he knew he had to RTC. 

-He didn't plan on telling you he was leaving. He'd already caused enough turmoil in the past week. But whatever it was about you that he found so comforting, so relaxing- it was so easy to drop the warrior act and just be himself--

-That night, the two of you were mixing drinks and watching The Bachelor, thoroughly enjoying tearing the contestants apart. Even that part of you, he liked- you could be just as vicious as he was and he didn't have to pull punches or mind his manners. You could keep up with him. He hadn't had a connection like that since--

-Since--

-Xaldin's brain short-circuited and the next thing you knew, the man had turned to face you, gripping both of your arms gently yet firmly in either hand, gazing at you with those gorgeous tanzanite eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized what was happening.

-His eyes snapped shut as your lips collided with his. You pulled yourself into his lap and grabbed a fistful of hair as he deepened the kiss. He wasn't as rough as you imagined he would be; on the contrary, he moved slowly, precisely, enjoying every moment with you. When he nibbled at your lower lip, you obliged, and his tongue swept inside your mouth to explore.

-Five minutes turned into fifteen. Fifteen minutes turned into an hour. It wasn't until the doorknob on the front door rattled that the two of you scrambled off of the couch and darted to your room for a little more privacy.

-..............

-It killed Xaldin to leave the note. It really did. But there were too many liabilities, including his growing affections for you, and he needed to get back to the Castle. With a dull ache in his chest, one that he had long since forgotten, he placed the note on your nightstand and opened a corridor to take him home.

-You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore, with thoughts of cooking a big breakfast for the man. Your heart sank, however, when you noticed the empty spot next to you where Xaldin had been only the night before. Part of you expected this to happen, but it didn't make the hurt any less real: there was no way he was in the bathroom or something, he was just gone.

-A folded piece of notebook paper rested on your nightstand. You knew exactly what it was the moment you spotted it. Slowly, tears welling in your eyes, you unfolded it tenderly and read the neat cursive handwriting:

Y/N,

Sincerest apologies for leaving unannounced, my dear. It was the easiest way for us both. Thank you for showing me kindness, hospitality and warmth; thank you for offering me reprieve from an unforgiving world, however short; and thank you for being a ray of light in a sea of darkness. Until our next meeting.

Yours,

X ~~

[kiraawrites]

2MSS #14: Children of Project Hydron (Catastr*phe Part 3)

See Part 1 and Part 2 here!

Day 14 of the 2 Month Short Stories Challenge w/ @flyingfalconflower12

Word count: 910

Constructive criticism welcome!

I search the store for my favourite brand of milk. The roaring of cars reverberates through the shop. I’m surprised I can even sleep in this city. After getting it, I step out and look at the skyscrapers before me. They shine like diamonds in the burning afternoon sun.

When I glance to my side, I spot a doppelganger of me. Same square face, wildly messy red hair and clothes... God, he even has that vintage leather jacket. With the same pins. This can’t be right. In the split second of eye contact, he pulls out a gun and shoots me in the head. Now I know who sent him.

The bullet punches through my skull, but I know I am not about to die. My assassin flees as I smirk at him and pull the bullet out of my head. My brain tissue swells to fill the hole and my skull clicks as bones fuse. I am virtually untouched. A few passersby stare at me, either stock-still or shaking.

Winking at them, I say, “You guys ever believe in superpowers?”

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

After hailing a cab, I arrive at a quieter area of the city, where the buildings were lower with some apartment complexes dotting the landscape. I enter one of those complexes. It has a red and gold interior, while the exterior is white except for the name of the building painted in black.

In the apartment, I spot Dax and Sarah. “Bad news,” I announce as they come over to hear clearly.

“What’s up, Vance? Oh, you want everyone to come over? Sure thing,” chirps Dax.

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

“Good afternoon, fellow genetic anomalies. The government has started their plan to exterminate us,” I say as I detail the encounter. “They’re trying to replace us with perfectly cloned assassins.”

The crowd of about forty people erupt in protest. This cramped space serves as our headquarters. A centre of operations for people endowed with abilities from a messy experiment two and a half decades ago. Its specimens were never meant to “escape into the wild”. But here we are, thriving. Nevertheless, we all had to sacrifice something. I am deaf in my right ear. Sarah cannot speak. Dax has severe dyslexia.

“We’ve been avoiding the government for a while. But with them pursuing us, we’ll have to talk,” I pause and then continue, “I’ll bring Sarah for her speed and Dax for his invisibility. Don’t get into trouble, everyone. It’ll look bad for all of us.”

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

The Parliament House looms before us as a block of white stone. We wait outside patiently for the President to exit. Clothed with Dax’s invisibility, the only people that can see us are our peers. The parliament session is ending; I can hear the shuffle of footsteps making their way to the grand doors.

I nudge my friends as the important man in a black suit steps out. His thick eyebrows are drawn downwards in a contemplative fashion. He lags behind his colleagues, so we wait for them to go off before we dissolve the cloak of invisibility.

He jumps as he sees us. “Who are you?”

“We’re the children of Project Hydron. We’re here to work with you on a peaceful and ethical way to let us continue existing. Our powers can help— “

“This has been discussed for millennia,” he interrupts me while signalling to the security officers. “I’m sorry, but we have given our final verdict years ago.”

“It’s been two decades, dude! It’s not like— “ protests Dax before I tell him to hide us again.

Sarah activates her speed and lets us throttle through the crowd. The officers can chase only the sound of our footsteps. They lose us fast. Still, we run till all breath exits our lungs. We do not want to get captured.

After a thousand twists and turns, we have ended up in a nasty-looking alley. Sarah gags and Dax breaks out in a stream of curses. Damn, people live here? While trying not to inhale the foul air, we step out and take a look around the place. The building before us is both a hotel and a residential building. Grey paint is peeling off its facade, revealing the concrete underneath.

As we pass our eyes over the building, a wave of light strikes us. Our eyes cannot pierce through it, but we the sound of an explosion shakes us. After two seconds, the light subsides to reveal the mostly-intact building. Shattered glass litters on the pavement from the windows of a unit on the second floor. A commotion has risen in that unit: the yells of a man engulfed by the high-pitched squeals of children.

“We should help,” I commented, glancing at my friends for their assent. “Could assist us with our situation. If we do it right.”

Sarah and Dax support me on their shoulders as I scrape my feet against the pipes running down the building. I get my footing on a piece of metal and push myself up with a groan. My legs swing into the already-opened part of the window as I pray for no glass shards to pierce my pants. What I see makes my head spin. Five boys, all branded on their forehead. The symbol was a plain black asterisk. They scratched and pull at a man in the middle of the room, their squeals having become vicious snarls.

“Sarah, Dax, we’ve got a tough case here.”

Taglist

@galaxy-charm @rhyseoshaughnessy @icedcoffeewriting

[novantinuum]

Breaking Point (2/2)

Part of the “Smaller Than He Seems” AU, in which Ford was accidentally de-aged into a kid during his multiverse adventures, while retaining all his memories. He appears about 12 at this point.

Last one shot here.

AO3

Rating: T (for some language)

Word count: ~5000

Summary: In which an apology is given. Stan gains a bit of insight into his brother's time apart from him. Ford allows himself to be honest for once.

“Sweet Moses, stop actin’ like a damn child and just pick a pair!”

…

“Ford.”

No response.

“Ford, talk to me, please!”

He could see his brother’s small body curled up against the door in the rearview mirror. His face entirely blank, his eyes trained on some landmark of interest outside the window but bleary, unfocused. His jaw clenched.

“Ford. Sixer. Come on, listen ta’ me, please! I said I was sorry…”

The moment Stanley Pines set his car into park alongside the Shack, he heard the rear passenger door swing open and little feet storm up the steps of the gift shop into obscurity. He didn’t even have to see his brother’s no-doubt tear stained eyes to gain explicit confirmation of what he already knew. After all— while his grasp of some of the more unique quirks and intricacies about his twin had faded over forty plus years of estrangement— the one detail he knew he’d never forget was the sound of Ford crying.

Notably, the few times Stan witnessed him cry when they were kids, he actively avoided making a spectacle of his emotions. (Men like me sure as hell don’t cry, his pa had constantly chided them.) Unlike other children in their age group, Ford’s sobs always remained strained and purposefully held back, as if he were ashamed at himself for crying in the first place. From the sound of it Ford’s anger and hurt still materialized precisely the same way now. It was almost as if the clock had reversed and suddenly Stan too was twelve again, watching his twin run away in muffled tears after getting his face busted up by one of their childhood bullies.

Almost…

After all, this time it wasn't the bully Ford was running from.

“You an’ yer stupid mouth sure messed up this time,” he muttered bitterly, yanking his keys out of the ignition.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, a gnawing hollowness settling in his soul. Cloud cover smothered the sun. A hopelessly stubborn part of him wanted nothing more than to immediately chase after his brother and console him as he always did in their youth, but that desire was quickly overrun by whatever sense of reason he still possessed. He’d only make things worse if he followed now. He always did make things worse.

Guilt raged within his mind like a hurricane, uprooting insecurities and blowing old emotional wounds to the forefront of his consciousness with terrifying force. He did this to Ford. He made him cry. In his utter carelessness he jabbed at what he imagined was one of his greatest insecurities: that ultimately— even in mind and spirit— he was nothing more than the childlike appearance chance forced upon him. That all his years of experience were for naught, that somehow he’d... regressed. Stanley wrung his hands together so tightly he nearly popped his joints out of place, his mind cycling between tides of self-hatred and incomprehensible shame at the memory of watching the light of his brother’s soul eclipsed by his thoughtless comment.

Old bones creaking with trepidation, he exited the car and began to make his way towards the Shack. A few stray raindrops splattered atop his head in the seconds before he reached the covered porch. He strode into the gift shop, in search of any physical sign of his brother. However, the vending machine door was closed. Same with the entry to the house. Stan halted for a moment and listened, dimly wondering if he could pick up auditory clues as to where his brother went. As much as he’d love to avoid confronting his guilt for as long as possible, deep down he knew that this would threaten to completely overturn what little camaraderie they had left. (Because at present, the sad reality was that their relationship was riding on a thin wire no more dependable than a pathological liar in an interrogation room.) He doubted he’d forgive himself if he lost Ford all over again merely a day after getting him back.

His eyes slid with disinterest over the shelves of useless overpriced wares, focusing momentarily on the rain— now falling steadily outside— and then the keypad of the vending machine. Mind now firmly set on finding his brother, he strode towards the hidden passageway and entered the code. Miraculously, Ford hadn’t changed it.

At least, not yet.

Stan crept down the steep staircase, gently running his hand over the faint six-fingered handprint immortalized in glowing ink on the cracked stone. Despite not understanding his reasons for it, his twin was obviously drawn to this place in some manner. Yesterday evening, he had to fight to convince him to sleep anywhere except the thin cot he’d shoved in the corner of the basement lab. And early this morning Ford exiled himself downstairs long before anyone else woke up, only venturing to the main floor at, presumably, the insistence of his growling stomach. He’d bet his first dollar in sales that Ford holed away to his ‘lair’ in this instance, too.

The closer the elevator dropped to the basement however, the more tongue-tied he felt. What was one supposed to say in situations like these? Had he already made a fatal mistake, stalling for as long as he did? Or were the wounds still too fresh? How did he know that he wouldn’t bungle everything up all over again like he always seemed to do whenever he interacted with him, or that Ford would even be receptive to an apology? How long would he have to tip-toe around him, interact as if he were only fragile glass?

By the time he reached the lab, his skin felt clammy to the touch and his nerves were twisted into a steel ball. A sum of him just wanted to get this over with, like ripping the soiled dressing off of an infected wound, and yet he couldn’t deny that insidious voice within his core that desired nothing more than to run away. When had he ever improved the quality of his life by bending on his knees and groveling for forgiveness anyways? In his experience, ‘sorry’ hadn’t driven him any further than the Stanmobile running on two flats and fumes.

Besides a few computer backlights that were active and a few dull red lamps fixed around the perimeter, the lab was dark. Stanley felt the hairs on his neck prickle as he inhaled the stale air. Euugh. Despite spending years of solid time down here, he’d never gotten used to just how damn creepyFord’s sci-fi mystery basement felt. It didn’t take a genius to figure out his brother hadn’t hidden down here, however. Rather, the lab was empty and near-silent, except for the faint whir coming from one of the old IMB computer’s fans. He peaked into the portal room out of curiosity, finding much the same. Though interestingly, it appeared someone had begun to dismantle the machine.

The twisted metal frame was detached from its girders and wires, with a choice few parts cannibalized and scattered across the bedrock. So thismust have been what kept Ford so busy early this morning. Stan didn’t understand how his brother managed to disassemble this much that quickly considering his size, but leave it to him to figure out a workaround, he supposed. He couldn’t help but sulk at the sight of thirty years of his work lying in ruins, even though he knew he’d succeeded in the end.

As he turned to leave, a glint of reflected light coming from Ford’s bundled up overcoat on the desk caught his interest. Tentatively, he approached the small mangled coat. Whatever caused the light to bounce astray, it appeared metallic. Intrigue brewed within him as he captured the edge of the object with his index finger and thumb.

“Let’s see what you are,” he murmured, pulling it into the rosy glow of the safety lamp that was mounted over the entrance to the portal room. The object was a nondescript metal tin the length of his hand, with a clasp on one side. He unlatched it gently.

Inside were… photographs, mainly. A few scraps of paper with windswept notes or sketches on them. The photos were mostly polaroids, but a couple were fashioned out of a holographic material that projected the images into the air. Stan filtered through the contents, his gaze lingering with awe on a rather impressive photograph that depicted— he assumed— the night sky on an alien world. A lot of the objects inside the tin were similar, each acting as a small window into Ford’s travels: images of exotic, almost unearthly landscapes, rough sketches of creatures even stranger than those contained in his journals, a thin strip of blue dyed cloth, an elongated, pointed tooth. His hands brushed against a slip of paper covered in tallies. Written below those lines were a series of numbers ranging anywhere from fifty-five to sixty-four that had long since been scribbled out and replaced with a question mark.

The edge of Stan’s lips slumped downwards the longer he thought about what that hesitant question mark really meant. He set this piece of parchment aside to look at the next object in the tin.

To his surprise, Ford was actually pictured in the next photo— an adult Ford like he remembered, but appearing far older than he'd last seen him in 1982. In the photograph, his brother stood with his arm slung around another man’s shoulder, a wide smile on his face. His tousled hair had gone almost completely grey— peppered with silver around his ears— and deep creases lined the corners of his eyes and the contour of his cheeks. The wrinkles suited him, honestly. Made him look distinguished. Nonetheless, Stan’s heart dropped in his chest at the sight. He held the thick paper with white knuckles as the significance of this hit him. This was close to how Ford would have appeared if he hadn't been reverted into a child. Now obviously, Stan only needed to glance into the mirror to imagine what his brother would have roughly looked like at sixty two, but actually seeingthe way age settled on his face- even merely memorialized as a polaroid- was its own shock to the system.

Stanley stared at the photo for a long while, committing the image to memory. He flipped to the next photo.

His eyes blew wide. His wrists trembled as he held the last object in the tin with nothing less than reverence, than proof that perhaps he and Ford might still see eye to eye more than he initially realized. That maybe, they still had a chance to truly be brothers again.

“Oh Sixer, you old sap…” he said in a half-laugh, trying to blink away his tears.

In the tattered, faded image he held, two young boys stood proudly on a wrecked sailboat at the edge of the sea, shirtless and sunburnt.

The rain still pummeled away at the roof and walls of the Shack by the time Stan returned to the main floor. He frowned for a moment, distantly wondering if Dipper and Mabel brought anything to keep them dry while they tromped through the woods, but these fears quickly faded. They were resourceful kids. He knew they’d fare fine. He couldn’t say the same for Stanford, who hadn’t uttered a peep for the past goodness-knows-how-long.

As he quietly made his way through the hall, his eye lingered on the door of the spare room his brother slept in last night. The door was shut, but he could swear he heard something rustling inside. A hunch brewing in his gut, Stan knocked on the ornately carved wood.

“Hey, Ford?” he called softly. “You in here, buddy?”

As expected, no response.

He bit at his lip, considering his options: steel his nerves and face him while the wound was still fresh, or bide his time and risk destabilizing what little of a relationship he had with his brother all together. Inhaling steadily, he placed a solid hand on the door and pushed.

“Ford?”

He found the man in question huddling on his side against the couch cushions, his face hidden away and his legs curled tight to his chest. Both pairs of boots- shoplifted and his original- sat together on the floor, lined up perfectly side by side. Stan almost hated himself for letting his mind linger on such thoughts after what he’d said earlier, but... when juxtaposed by the size of the couch, Ford looked every bit of his apparent age. Slight. Defenseless. Perfectly childlike, like he were peering through a looking glass into the shadow of their glory days.

And yet there was a clear dissonance between the brother he remembered then and the person who wore his face now.

“I’m not in the mood for your excuses,” his brother muttered bitterly, burying his head further into the cushion.

“I- uh, I mean I’ll leave if ya’ really want me to,” he replied, scratching at the nape of his neck. “But just for the record, I didn’t come in here to make excuses, I came to—” Stanley swallowed his pride— “to apologize.”

At those words, his twin turned to glance at him with a dry, withering expression, mouth slackened and eyes hooded with distrust. “All right, cut to the chase. Which fey kingdom do you originate from and why did you replace my brother?”

The doubt of his sincerity sent a spike into his chest. “Come on,” he insisted, opening his hands. “It’s me, I swear.”

“The Stanley I know doesn’t apologize for anything,” Ford said bluntly, further narrowing his eyes.

Both brothers fell silent at this statement. Truthfully, Stan couldn’t argue with its accuracy. He took the occasion to drink in the sight of the brother’s face- to truly see him as he was in this moment- Ford’s seemingly youthful yet haunted gaze caught in Stan’s own. He tried to ignore the recognizable trail of dried tears that crossed his cheeks, or the lingering dampness of his eyes. They were messed up, the pair of them… old men with a lifetime of troubles to sort through and now on top of that, appearing generations apart. But Stan desperately wanted to make it up to him. His heart sank at the idea of his twin truly believing that his rare, vulnerable word- his apology- wasn’t sincere.

“Listen,” he began, slowly sinking to rest on the couch, adjacent to Ford. “The last thing I ever want ta’ do is hurt you. But I have ,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “And I hate seeing you like this, especially when- uh, w-when I know it’s ‘cause of me. I know it may not be worth nothin’ to you after everything I’ve done to ya’ over the years, but... I am sorry. You deserve better. I’ll try better.”

He took a breath, and he could swear the rainstorm outside paused alongside him within the span of that inhale. None of the oscillating emotions expressed in his brother’s features were anything he could easily recognize. The quirk of his lip or the incline of his brow possessed no meaning, for at this precise instant in time, Stanley simply couldn’t determine whether Ford intended to throw him out of the room, break into tears, or envelop him in a hug tighter than a person his size had any right of giving.

Instead, Ford sighed deeply, hunching over on the couch and cupping his cheeks into his hands. “I really appreciate that,” he said quietly. Then, his words bleeding into one another: “Of course, it’s not fair to say this was entirely your fault. I could have at least attempted to communicate my needs beforehand, o-or not have reacted so strongly, o-”

“Ford. Ford. Who’s sayin’ sorry here? Stop hijacking my apology, you nerd.”

This made his brother laugh a little, softly, but an unmistakable laugh. The sound of it touched Stan’s heart in a way he couldn’t quantify in words. Dimly, he came to the realization that this was the first laugh he’d heard out of him in over forty years. But same as the seasons changed, same as all the days Stanley’s bombastic, dramatized work persona slipped away past closing to be replaced with a long withered melancholy, so too did Ford’s brief moment of peace pass. A shadow passed over his countenance.

“I only wish I could find my place in all this,” he said in a broken whisper, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

Stan frowned, feeling the creases in his face deepen. “W- whatdya mean?”

His brother shrank into himself, pulling his knees to his chest.

“All that happened earlier only served to prove in my mind that everything’s just… wrong . It feels wrong. Changed. Put simply, I- I guess the world’s moved on without me.” Confession released to the world around him, he buried his head from sight once more, and took a deep, shaky breath to- Stan assumed- calm himself down from a cliff’s edge of emotional release.

“Oh, Sixer…” He attempted to lay a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder, but to his disappointment Ford shrugged away from the affection entirely. “Come on, there’s gotta be some way we can fix this, right?”

“There’s no way to reverse this,” he said, voice cracking with emotion. “Trust me, I’ve tried nearly everything, but I’ve still been like this for three goddamn years."

“Three years?” Stan exclaimed, face painted with a polarized mixture of horror and remorse. “And this was when you were alone in that space sci-fi dimension?? Threatened by enough danger ‘round the clock that you were forced ta’ keep a damn gun at your hip at all times?”

Ford nodded slowly, eyes meeting his for an instant before flitting away.

He pressed his face into his calloused hands, roughly rubbing at his temples. “Sweet Moses. How the hell did you stay alive?”

“Honestly? I can’t rightly say.”

The two sat in relative silence for a while after that, allowing each other’s mere presence fill the gap their lack of words left. Outside, the storm continued- rain pouring in rivulets down the glass pane of the window. At some point, Ford had let his legs back down, allowing them to lightly swing over the side of the couch. Stan sat hunched forward, leaning on his elbows. He couldn't say for certain at this point what Ford’s opinion of him was, but in all honesty he supposed this was the vital difference between the predictable, amicable brother who existed for thirty years in his daydreams and the real item. Perhaps it was better not knowing.

Whatever the thoughts the man held towards him however, he was fairly confident that hatred was not one of them.

“Stan,” the man in question said eventually, wringing his hands together. “Can I tell you something?”

Hearing his name pass through his twin’s lips, he instantly perked up. “Yeah? What's on your mind?”

“Despite what I said yesterday, despite the anger I held towards you then, I'm really, really glad you rescued me…”

As he spoke his voice faded into obscurity, masked by a crushing sense of fear that no person bearing the childlike appearance he possessed had any right of knowing. He crossed his arms tight around himself, chin sinking into the folds of the dark maroon scarf he hadn't taken off since his return home. Fledgling tears dotted the corners of his eyes. Before those could gain any traction, he blotted them away with tightened fists. Watching this, Stan froze, worried that even the slightest movement or uttered syllable might be enough to burst the emotional dam Ford evidently wanted to remain closed.

Luckily, Ford himself chose to orient the direction of their talk once more, taking the conversational anxiety off Stan’s shoulders completely.

“It comes to my attention that I haven’t been forthright with you yet,” he said, staring at the wooden floor slats- and knowing him, likely analyzing the patterns formed by the grain to keep his mind stimulated. “About- well, about how all this came to be.” He gestured broadly at himself, at his gangly twelve year old body.

“Now, I don’t wanna force ya’ to talk about somethin’ that obviously bothers yo-”

“No. No, it’s okay... I want you to know. You deserve as much.”

“You sure?” Stan confirmed.

His twin nodded resolutely, and curled up on the couch so that he was facing him, legs crossed one over the other. His eyes peered as far up as they could reach, a clear signal that he was searching through his memories, beginning to piece together his past from the scattered recollections those neurons held.

“Not to complicate the story with superfluous detail,” Ford began, nervously clasping his hands together, “the events that lead me to this point started with… well, with the desire to construct a weapon powerful enough to eradicate an enemy who was hunting me down throughout dimensions.”

“And this enemy was, what, strong enough that your normal weapons wouldn’t do the trick?”

He gave a short, staccato nod. “Correct. Essentially, to destroy them, I needed to find a way to destabilize their very molecular makeup at a quantum level. I knew how to build it, but one of the required components could only be found in a single dimension, colloquially known by its inhabitants as the ‘Do-Over’ Dimension. And yes- where you think this is going is probably right” he said, jabbing his finger at him, and Stan knew at that moment that his attempts to conceal the fledgling dread he felt was all for naught.

Ford began gesturing with his hands as needed as he continued to explain his experiences. “You see, the problem with this dimension is that their time stream was fragmented. The very nature of time was in constant flux. Here, time could move forwards or backwards in any sequence without pattern or warning. Inhabitants might experience hours, weeks, or even entire years of their lives completely over again, all while still retaining full memory of every cycle. Even visitors to this world weren’t absolved from its effects”

“And you willingly stepped into a place like this?” Stan asked his twin quietly, brow furrowed.

“I had no choice. Like I said, this dimension was the only place I could find the specific isomer of a rare element stable enough to use in my weapon. I knew the dangers of entering far in advance… and yet I went anyways.”

“So, you made a gamble.”

“Put bluntly, yes. It was a gamble against the universe that the time stream would remain relatively stable during my visit. One that, ultimately, blew up in my face. Ironically however,” Ford continued, his eyes narrowing with deep irritance, “the Do Over Dimension hadn’t experienced a Great Rewind for centuries until the one I was caught amid.”

Stanley watched as his brother limply fell backwards, meeting the rear cushion of the couch. Frustration and bitter anger painted his face when simply recalling his story; as such, Stan couldn’t begin to imagine what it must have been like to live through such a traumatic experience. Slowly- so as to not spook him with unexpected movement- he slung his arm over the couch back.

From outside, a distant roll of thunder sounded alongside the July rainstorm.

“And I was so close to completing my mission!” he growled, shaking a tight fist that likely had little half-moon indentations in his palm where his nails were. “I had the element in hand, I was only hours away from exiting the dimension… when without any warning, time slipped about fifty years into the past, and I found myself physically reverted to the size of a eight or nine year old kid. What’s scary is that despite my misfortune, I still got lucky. For any visitors to the dimension who weren’t over fifty years of age, they would have simply perished. Ceased to exist.”

“Well damn,” Stan muttered, right hand pressed to mouth and left still lightly slung around his brother’s shoulder, resting on the seat cushion.

“Damn is right. I had a hard enough time traversing the multiverse as an adult, so to add this as a hinderance?” Ford looked up, meeting his gaze. “It was hell. Most days I barely managed to get the nutrients I needed to remain healthy in this growing body. I’m sure I’ve fallen close to malnourishment more than once. Adding onto that, physically defending myself the way I used to became a near impossibility. And thanks to the constant threat of… of the interdimensional child slave trades, I feel like I can’t trust anyone in a crowd anymore.”

Fresh teardrops prickled at the corners of his eyes as he spoke, glistening in the dim lighting of the parlor. Ambient light from outside shone through the blue and green stained glass window. It cut a clear path through the shadows cast by the rest of the room, illuminating one side of each of the brother’s faces. With a soft, sympathetic sigh, Stan let his hand drop onto Ford’s shoulder. Letting him know he was there beside him as he blinked through the tears.

“I’m sorry you had ta’ go through this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ford said with a shrug, voice thick in that way it gets when one’s deliberately trying to hold back the full brunt of their emotions. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just… time, really.”

It’s not your fault, his mind echoed his words. And inwardly, he’d love to believe that were true. He’d love to delude himself that he were entirely blameless. But as much as he wanted to take Ford’s statement to heart, all he could see was the memory that had replayed in both his nightmares and in every waking moment he spent fixing the portal, flickering through his subconscious with a frightening vivacity. The force of his hands against Ford’s chest. His terrified screams, “Stanley! Stanley please,” shredding his vocal cords in unbridled desperation. The almost sickeningly blue glow of the portal swallowing his brother whole while he, in his worthless, wounded body couldn’t do anything more than gape in abject horror.

Frankly, everything that happened to the guy on the other side was his fault, far as he was concerned. But fat luck trying to convince Ford of this. Ford, whose abject blame of the universe only served as deflection from the blame he truly placed on his own actions. Stan wasn’t an idiot. He recognized what guilt spiraling looked like.

He glanced towards his twin from the corner of his eyes, and gave his shoulder a pat. “Well I’m sorry for ya’ anyway.” Another relevant thought from earlier today entered his mind then, and he turned towards him inquisitively. “Hey, so don’t feel like ya’ gotta answer this if it’s anythin’ too uncomfy, alright? But... why were you so adamant on the townsfolk not thinkin’ I was your pa, or grandpa, or whatever?”

While it was subtle, he could visibly see the muscles in Ford’s shoulders flinch at the movement of their conversation to this topic.

“Okay, we uh, w-we can talk about something else then,” he said hastily, pulling his arm back to allow him some space. Or perhaps it was time to leave him alone entirely. “Guess I shouldn’t ‘ave brought it u-”

“It’s because you’re my last connection to the past,” Ford blurted out suddenly. “Of who I really am. I don’t- I didn’t want that perverted by having to spend every day in public living a lie. Not now. Not when I’m like this,” he said, gesturing broadly down at himself.

Stan frowned at the unclear wording in his statement. “What do you mean, ‘perverted?’”

He stared down at his six fingers, wringing them together. “Well, I uh- sometimes, these past three years… I often found myself in a place where it felt like my memory almost- I guess, like my mind wanted to forget. Over time, it became hard to remember that I’d ever had any other childhood. And now,” he said more quietly, looking for all the world as if he wanted to slip through the floorboards and away to his basement, “faced with the reality of having to grow up all over again, I- that still scares me.”

Stan nodded slowly, thinking he understood the scenario from his perspective a little more. He placed his hands firmly on either side of his twin’s shoulders, looking at him earnestly.

“Ford, no matter what we tell those townsfolk, you’re my brother. First off. You better believe I’ll remind ya’ every day for the rest of my life, if I have to. And that’s never gonna change, y’hear? It doesn’t matter to me if ya’ look like a kid, ‘cause far as I’m concerned, you’re still you. Still as nerdy and annoying of a twin bro as I remember, anyways! Hah!” he exclaimed, and gave Ford’s head a noogie, fist ruffling through his untamed brown locks.

His brother let out a giggle, pushing his hands away in protest, and for the first time the smile on his lips truly reached his eyes.

“But hey,” Stan continued, expression growing genuine again. “From now on, whatever explanation we give ta’ other people about ‘who you are?’ We’ll figure that out on your terms. I won’t force ya’ to behave a certain way in public or in private because of some perceived ‘relation.’ That fair?”

“Yeah.” Ford nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Good. You… d’ya want a hug?”

He held his arms open. To his delight Ford accepted the offer of affection without hesitation. He wrapped his smaller arms as tight around his middle as possible, and buried his face into his shoulder.

“Stanley?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Beyond the walls of the Shack, the rain stopped.

[holy-mountaineering]

This spread is for https://sordhent.tumblr.com/ Thanks for the donation! Tonight you’re getting the full Qabalistic Tree of Life Spread that I do. What I’m going to do is go through and briefly explain each card and it’s position on the Tree and then once I do that I’ll give you a summary/synopsis. Think of this spread as a sort of quantum map that you’re moving “through” but you are also simultaneously everywhere at once. For the sake of this specific experiment, think of this as a map. Where we’re starting the journey from is Kether, the monad, the first sign of creation. We’ll call this your hometown, since it is where you’re from originally. Here we have the Princess of Cups, the earthy part of Water. This is the canyon wall being ground down over the millennia by moving water. The nutrients and minerals in the earth are transported down river to the fertile delta. This is the natural, “following your feelings” within your daily life. Try not to fool yourself, follow your intuition, not just passing whims. Feel, don’t necessarily react immediately. Go with what you feel and intuit, let yourself go with the flow, if you will. Allow your situation to move with your emotions and be patient with your progress. In Chokmah, which is like your freeway getting you out onto the road out of your hometown is the Prince of Swords, the airy part of Air. This is pure mind, “reason run amok.” The entire card is made up of strange and fragmenting geometric shapes like the prince’s world is coming apart at the seams. The humanoid creatures pulling his chariot have no fucking idea what they’re doing and the prince himself is in an awkward pose. Don’t think yourself into discord. Sometimes when you look too deep at unnecessary or mundane details you’ll fucking lose your shit. Furtherly, focus on doing one thing, stay with that single thing until it is done. I suggest breath work and controlling breathing specifically. In Binah, which is ruled by Saturn and for the sake of this reading we will call the first stop on your roadtrip. You haven’t really arrived anywhere but you’re stopping and getting a chance to repack your car in a more efficient way. Sitting in Binah is the 10 of Swords (mental and communicative) Ruin. Astrologically, this is Sol the Sun or your center being split by the duality of Gemini or duplicity. This is like making a decision by not making one. Your intellect is collapsing in on itself due to building duality or otherness conflicting with how you think of you. This is being “of two minds” but they duo doesn’t seem to work together very well. The good news is that they’re damn near done working together at all. 10s are the highest number card or as intense as it gets. Try to integrate your splitting and increasingly destructive thinking and/or communicating, make meaning out of this chaos. And hey, don’t worry, it’s peaked and now you have to slide down the mountain of crazy you just climbed. In Chesed which is ruled by Jupiter and again for the sake of this experiment we’ll say involves your influence and benevolence in your current trip is the 7 of Wands, Valour. This card is the smashing of the order of the 6 of Wands by violent and chaotic energy. Crowley calls this “the soldier’s battle” and as usual, Al nails it. Think of when (white) people used to start battles by lining up facing each other and marching forward. This was generally a really shit way of fighting wars and the orderly ideas the generals had would go away the second people stopped being in straight lines.. Here it is stated that the lines are broken, the generals are dead, the chain of command is gone, and now if you want to survive you’re going to need to charge screaming at the enemy and without noticeable help. In this chaos watch out for friendly fire, shit is confusing right now. Keep your head down, march on, break the normal ordered way that you do things. Stagnation is your enemy, slay your enemy. Across the Tree in Geburah, which is Mars Town, where you find your drive and what you’re trying to accomplish/conquer is XIX The Sun, Resh, Sol. The Sun is The Lord of Light and Life, the center of our little Solar System. Everything in the fairly large gravitational pull of the Sun is affected by it which pulls everything to it. This more or less self sufficient little nuclear reactor in space gives life and light but also pulls small things which cannot maintain an orbit around it in for the final burn. bright and full of life and light but deal not with bullshit trifles. Center yourself but be aware of what you effect and how. In Tiphareth, the Sun and center of gravity holding all this in place, the heart pumping the blood through this, your heart is the 10 of Disks, Wealth. This card is intelligence (Mercury) in fertile possibility (Virgo). This is the peak material situation, a good situation, a situation you really want to be in.
 Be swift and mindful of your material task at hand and your everyday experience, it is nearing its end and you stand to profit. Put your smarts and your communication skills in the most fertile possibilities and cash in before things start to come down from this peak opportune time. In Netzach, Venus town, where you have the realization about how this is going to change you as a person with a personality is the Queen of Disks, the watery part of Earth or how you feel about what is going on in your material world of normal life stuff. This Queen is above the landscape observing the river create life in the desert. The Queen of Disks is meditative and calm. She sees creation and is a part of it without getting her hands dirty. This card shows what you feel about what is happening in your everyday “real world” life. The ideal here is to get out of the messy bullshit of “normal” stuff, get higher beyond mundanity, and look back down with new and more complete perspective. Get above your situation so you can see more of the landscape. In Mercury Town Hod-ville, where all the Universities are and everyone has real intellectual shit going on is the 6 of Cups, Pleasure. For reasons I call this the plumbing card. The water is not flowing freely as though it is pouring, it has been pumped through a series of tubes intricately woven together to fill the cups placed in the shape of a hexagram. Emotion and connectedness to life are intentionally being directed by unseen but invited forces. Someone who wasn’t looking closely could see nothing but knots and chaos and even wonder how the damn thing worked in the first place. Those people are squares and should be avoided at all costs. Do what gives you pleasure that also instills clarity. Center on the best you can feel even if onlookers can’t appreciate what you’re doing connoisseurs (and you) will dig it. On the Moon in Yesod, the receptive and reflective place that is alot about the feelings that you’re picking up from all this is the 7 of Cups Debauch. This is Venus (beauty, personal growth) in Scorpio, the dark water where things growing aren’t seen so clearly. This is emotional composting so let things rot out to fertilize future emotional growth. But like a compost pile, you must turn it, give it Sun, and make sure that it doesn’t get rancid. Emotionally things might seem rotten, but it’s just trying to become wonderful fertilizer for greater emotional maturity and better future relationships. Down here in Malkuth-istan, the everyday life mundane, waking up pooping, and going to work world is everybody’s favorite XIII Death, Nun, Scorpio. Death is the best allegory we have for real fundamental change. Death is being in the process of changing from one form to another. I see Scorpio as the murky waters, which things are not clearly seen, Death is not known to those who haven’t died. Death is feared for the loss of control but when most people go, they get real peaceful and accepting. Death is avoided because of the loss of the current form that you’ve grown so comfortable with. Stagnation is a real killer but Death is a great refresher. Things might not be clear now but that’s ‘cause you’re right in the middle of some higher order change. You’ll come out the other side a new person or thing entirely. So, up top, we’ve got a “going with the flow” attitude leading you to weird overthink-y shit and ultimately a overwhelming of the mental faculties. There needs to be a focusing in higher realms to avoid such fuckery. Coming down a bit we have a need to break from certain behavior patterns, that while once ordered and structured your growth to great success don’t really cut the mustard as much as the cheese these days. Change it up, move around and try new ways to go about expanding, here in these Universes. And back to focusing, it’s time to recenter what you’re doing on who you are now, because you’ve got some fucking physical financial material world “rewards” for your planning and labor headed at your ass and that is also about to change who ya are and how you’re doing shit. For your growth and how you see yourself, this is a good time for you to reflect and, if you can, remove yourself from your responsibilities and everyday bs and feel around about what is happening. Remember, this is about recentering on you. Communication (which is just a really weird form of magick anyway) wise, you need to do what makes you happy BUT also fucking works and benefits this whole refocus/centering thing. Don’t worry about how you look, it’s about how you FEEEEEEEEELLLLL, man. You’re taking in some change, shit’s moving around and you’re finding old, dead things. Shit is lurking that you thought was either unimportant or dealt with, emotionally. Like an emotional compost pile, give it some Sun, turn that turd so it breaks down. I feel like it’s important for some reason to say “TALK TO THEM, DEAL WITH IT YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO” right now like in an automatic writing way. And speaking of dead things… In your everyday life shit is about to get real goddamn weird. Change feels funny, no control, not sure what’s up or down. This is what you’re centering for. Know your newer self before this big shit goes down, trust me, it’s crucial. Uh, usually here is where I say TA DA! And tell you to send me a message if you have any questions, comments, concerns, inquiries, etc. This is all reasonably heavy and seriously don’t hesitate to hit me up. -FR. N0ught

[khymer-vulture]

Got stuck in work for longer than desired, cuz the next shift never showed, I’ll have to do the other stuff later.

will post a short story for now. Set after Captivate.

While resting for the night in an unorthodox location, the pair encounter a fascinating event.

They haven’t seen signs of any civilization for miles, both Isaac and Rachel were traveling for the longest time near a vast stretch of road, surrounding them, were endless stretches of wilderness. While many different cars passed by them without a second glance, the pair often had to hide into the bushes if they spotted any police vehicles pass by.

The sun was setting, and Zack felt it wasn’t safe to sleep along the road side, too many curious people would stop if they saw two people sleeping near the road. So, he offered to carry Rachel onto his back as he casually hacked and slashed away foliage that got on his nerves. They’ve slept in wooded areas before, though it was Ray who did the sleeping, while Zack chose to keep a look out – who knows what the fuck inhabited the woods. Isaac was venturing through the patch of wilderness until he felt they were deep enough to avoid the possibility of snooping travelers. Plus, the possibility of getting lost wasn’t as big, since he could just follow where he sliced and diced. However, it seemed the stretch of trees ended to a large horizon of open field, and it was obvious that it wasn’t claimed by people. There were no power lines, houses, or even signs of farmland.

Some areas had a large thicket of long grass, while beds of shorter grasslands and even wildflowers blanketed the area. Seemed a decent enough spot to camp for the night, Zack felt Ray slide off his shoulders to check the new area with an awed expression. Aside from the landscape, the night sky was unfiltered by man-made lights, revealing the arrival of stars in their entirety, and with the rising moon being the only source of light.

“It’s gorgeous here…” she murmured.

Isaac rarely ever paid attention to the beauties of nature, but if Ray liked it, then they had found a place to stay for the night.

“If it interests ya’, then I guess we can just camp out in this spot…”

Zack settled himself down as he laid his scythe onto the ground, and watched Rachel explore the area a little more, even picking at some of the wild flowers. He smirked to himself to see her so amused, plus, he had been getting better at learning what it was like to be with her. He pushed away nagging instincts much more easily now in terms of being affectionate towards her, though being more open about it was still the hard part. He continued to watch Ray gather flowers for a bit and even arrange them into strange shapes until he noticed strange glowing orbs appear around her, and quickly got back up to his feet.

"What the fuck?” he said aloud, “Ray, get back from those.”

Rachel was confused at first, until she saw the glow for herself, but she didn’t seem worried at all - rather, she was amazed.

“Oh! Fireflies,” she exclaimed.

Now, Zack seemed more eager to smash the bugs by their name alone.

“They’re harmless, Zack,” she assured him, “They’re called all sorts of names, but they get it from how they light up in the night like this.”

Zack raised a brow as he watched more of the luminous orbs appear around them.

“That’s fucking weird, why would bugs wanna light up like this?” Zack grumbled. “Seems to make them an easy target to get smashed, or bring whatever eats these fuckers…”

“They do it to attract a mate,” Rachel replied, “It looks pretty though, almost like living stars floating around us.”

Zack gazed the area around them, watching every different firefly flutter around them, lighting their surroundings with their strange green light. Maybe they weren’t so bad after all, this was new for him to see, fireflies were non-existent in the back alleys when he grew up. Rachel noticed Zack raising a hand up with his palm flat, and watched as one of the glowing bugs made a landing on Isaac’s hand. The man watched for a moment, eyeing every detail, and felt a little entranced to stare at the strange and natural light that dimly flickered from the insect’s body.

“First time ever seeing a firefly?” Ray asks.

“Yeah, it’s kinda weird and awesome to see them though,” Zack replied, “I didn’t think bugs could glow like that.”

“Want to sit down and watch them for a while?”

“…Sure,” Zack said, as he motioned himself down.

Rachel sat herself beside Isaac, placing the bundle of flowers at her lap, and watched the fluttering balls of light float around aimlessly. The couple watched the many different lights dance for a while, then Rachel motioned herself to lean against Isaac’s shoulder, feeling a strong sense of comfort. This made Zack turn to glance at her, he seemed to notice how the light from the moon and the fireflies made her pop out through the natural dark. She almost looked ethereal - not in the least bit doll-like. The man couldn’t help but stare at her, he didn’t care about the fireflies anymore, the only thing that caught his interest was Ray. The young woman had the feeling she was being watched and turned to see Zack’s heterochromatic stare aimed right at her, before she could question him, she felt his hands cradle her face.

“Zack?”

“Just shut up for a sec…” Zack softly grunted. “I wanna look at you.”

Rachel felt a faint warmth swarm her cheeks, Isaac continued to gaze right at her with both a curious and needy expression on his face. Not once has his instinct screamed at him to do something impulsive, instead, he was acting on his own decisions – he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

Soon, Ray watched as Zack leaned closer to her until his lips found hers, he actually made the move on his own this time. Rachel’s heart skipped a beat as Zack brought her in a small and sweet kiss, not even showing signs that he intended to push it further than it needed to be. Ray felt a warm and relaxing feeling flutter inside of her chest, she freed one hand and wrapped it around Zack’s shoulder. As he slowly broke for air, the two continued to stare at each other for a while – blue eyes meeting gold and black.

“…I liked that,” Ray whispered.

Zack’s eyes tried to shy away now, his usual reaction to hiding his embarrassment.

“It’s nothing special, Ray…”

Then, he felt Rachel bring his attention back to her, always reminding him to not run away.

“It was, Zack. I could tell you put your actual feelings behind it,” Ray replied, “…and for that, it made me happy.”

Zack felt warmth collect underneath his wrappings, “…Should I give you another?”

“I’d like that…you don’t have to ask,” Ray replied.

Zack was about to lean in to claim her lips yet again, but felt the young woman drop something on top of his head. This made the man pause his action, then figure out what she had dropped on top of him, he pulled back as he reached to pick up the object. It was the flowers she had in her hands earlier, only they were arranged in a large ring, he tilted his head in curiosity as he observed the object.

“It’s a flower crown,” Ray explained, “…I used to make them a lot when I was really young.”

Zack glanced at her for a moment, then brought the crown back up to place it on her head, even pulling some of her bangs back to keep them from covering her eyes, before he let the flowers rest upon her locks. For her to tell him a little bit of her past, then it must’ve been a rare, pleasant memory.

“Pretty damn creative,” Zack said as he softly smirked to her. “…you should wear it, flowers are more of your thing, Ray.”

Damn, now the floral accessory complimented the natural lights, and he was going to hold onto Ray’s earlier words about not needing to ask. He leaned to the young woman and placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer, and he could feel Rachel meet him halfway. Now, he could see why she said that he didn’t need to ask, Ray would graciously accept his sweet tokens of affection. It felt so out of character to be gentle, but for this warm and pleasant feeling as the reward, he couldn’t care. From the few years that passed by in Rachel’s company, he never felt closer to any person, besides her. He never felt such strange needs before until he began this bond with her, she made him feel like a different person, along with the sense that he would never be alone – so, this was what love was like. It wasn’t just about kisses or holding the other close, it was being together as a whole.

As they pulled back yet again, Rachel brought a hand up to caress Zack’s cheek.

“I love you…” she whispered.

She felt warmth grow underneath her fingertips, knowing that the man was blushing, and she watched Zack nibble at his bottom lip, as if he was having trouble trying to say something. Even his eyes showed the strain of forming the words.

“…Still can’t say it, yet?” she asked. She knew saying sweet things was difficult.

Zack sighed as he buried his face in her shoulder.

“…Yeah…”

Rachel smiled softly as she ran her fingers through Zack’s hair to reassure him, “It’s okay if you’re not ready to say it yet.”

Zack quietly grumbled to himself, “…It’s just…really mushy to say…I’m fine with showing you…shit, I really do suck at this.”

Soon, Ray gently pecked his forehead, “No, you’re just unique. It’s totally fine to show how you feel in your own way. No shame in that.”

“I…I guess…ya’ say all this nice shit…and I can’t even utter a sentence,” Zack groaned.

“Don’t force yourself,” Ray spoke, “there will be a day when you’ll say what’s on your mind.”

Maybe she was right, if Zack didn’t think too hard on it, maybe one day he’d be able to give the same exchange of tender words to her. For now, saying it felt like he was trying to speak a foreign dialect, and he’d just wind up embarrassing himself if he’d try.

Isaac had to give her some sort of reply to let her know that he accepted her feelings of adoration, his fingers found their way into Rachel’s golden locks once more, then gently coaxed her close, as he lightly bumped their heads together. This was normally a recurring method to calm Ray’s nerves when things got her down, but this seemed to be a good alternative to tell her that he loved her as well. Someone who managed to draw out this most human emotion in a man like him, someone he wasn’t ready to part with yet, delaying the promised day further and further. Ray’s feeling was mutual, she had been mistreated all of her life, never knowing what it felt like to be loved, and she wasn’t ready to part with Zack either, contributing the delay in carrying out their oath. It will happen one day, but today and maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be that day.

“Ya’ know I like being around you, right?” Zack said to break the silence.

“Of course.”

Zack quietly chuckled, “Yer’ still a brat…”

“I’m your brat though.”

“Yeah…yeah you are,” Zack mumbled as he reluctantly pulled back. “…it’s getting pretty late…we should get some sleep.”

“Okay…just anywhere?”

Zack didn’t answer, he pulled down the zipper of his hoodie and pulled it open, letting her know what he was going to take her in and let her rest warm and snugly against him. They still had a long road ahead – quite literally, before they would reach another town. The young woman crawled up to Zack and cuddled against his bandaged chest, feeling the man’s arms wrap around her, and zip her comfortably in his jacket. Isaac brought one hand back to pillow his head as the other went back into Ray’s hair to run his fingers through her silky locks, soothing her to a comfortable sleep as they rested under the stars.

Then he noticed the abundance of fireflies began to grow less and less, and he reflected on how their glow seemed mesmerizing.

“Hey Ray…”

“Hmm?”

“I wouldn’t mind watching fireflies with ya’ again…it was nice,” he said. Then he finally felt words fill his mouth, “…you looked good in their light too…y’ know…all pretty-like and stuff…”

Rachel felt a blush grow on her face as she buried it in Zack’s chest, even mumbling a shy whimper. Zack may not be completely ready to say sweet things to her, but maybe Ray wasn’t ready to hear them yet.

“I’d like that,” she replied.

Soon, she felt the man’s lips press against her forehead, that same tender sensation driven by freewill instead of impulse.

“Goodnight, Ray,” he mumbled.

“Goodnight, Zack…”

Ray closed her eyes as she made herself comfortable on Isaac’s body, she slept soundly, while Zack remained awake to stay on guard. It was a gorgeous field they were sleeping in, but it was still the wilderness nonetheless. Zack wanted to make damn sure Ray would be safe.

The man’s eyes directed to one last firefly fluttering in the air, and he slid his hand from Ray’s hair to extend it up to let the insect land on his fingertips. He quietly stared into that otherworldly and hypnotic light for a short moment before letting the bug fly off to the unknown. If things had stayed the same for Zack, he probably wouldn’t have learned new things because of her, it was almost like he was discovering the world itself. Wildlife, civilization, and even his own self – not to mention, learning more about the strengthened bond between him and Rachel.

It felt right, being with this unlikely kindred spirit was so right to him, and he wished he could say it to her – when she was awake, that is. Just wondering how she’d react to him talking all sappy-like is what made his tongue feel like it was being tied in knots. Zack made sure Ray was in a deep sleep and began to lean to her ear to quietly whisper things to her.

There were still many hours to go, and now he had plenty of time to practice.

[i-dont-dj-sammy-g]

Plee

Hey. 

You there.

Whoever is left.

I don’t know who you are, but hello, and thanks for stopping.

I’m not sure what I’m trying to accomplish with this post other than to just put it out in the air, somewhere, that I am NOT okay. These last four years of my life have been far worse than I could have ever hoped for myself. I feel like I’m drowning and whenever I try to swim to the surface for a breath of air, the ocean just gets that much deeper. Sure, life’s had its ups, but the majority of it has been downs. I am not happy. I never realized that I was ever in this position until about a week ago when I got more drunk than I ever have been before in my life. I could not move. Everything was spinning at the speed of a top and I could. not. stop. crying. I called everyone in my family, and cried and told them how scared I was and how much I miss them (since they all live far away.) I don’t know what I’m so afraid of. Maybe being alone. Maybe death. Maybe life. Honestly, I think I’m afraid of it all. This post is going to be long and riddled with rambling that won’t make any sense. I’m sorry, and if you stay through it all, thank you for your time. I wish I could give something back to you.

I don’t know where to start with this. Maybe I’ll start where all of this began...ha ha Sam, way to go. 

My parents were never happy. I never realized it until it was over and the mushroom cloud of the divorce was already halfway round the world, but they weren’t. Mom, she works. She works all the time and I feel bad because I haven’t seen it really pay off for her. She sits in front of her computer from 5am to about 6pm typing medical notes. She’s been doing this for just about as long as I remember, and this has taken up a large part of my life. I remember waking up in the morning to her typing and coming home from school to her typing. I’m not sure if she actually likes the job, or if she’s been hiding from something...distracting herself.

Dad has been retired a couple of times and had to come out of retirement once to try to keep the family afloat. It was never something I saw but we were struggling. He specializes in landscaping and amateur astrophotography, though amateur may be an understatement. I don’t honestly remember much of him working because it was never anything at home and he would never bring it home with him. Other than the poison ivy. Mom didn’t like that. 

I’m going to spare a lot of personal and family details that nobody but us need to know, but the years went on, we moved from Kansas to Massachusetts and I could see them growing apart. It was obvious. They would fight more, Dad would sleep on the couch more often than not because of his “restless leg syndrome,” and the spark was gone. Dad spent all his time up in his office while we would be downstairs watching our favorite TV shows, me and my mom. *I want to add a little side note here that I am not angry with any member of my family. I am happy that they are all doing seemingly well for themselves now, but more on that later* It was in the air that they weren’t together anymore.

Fast forward about 3 years. All of a sudden mom wants to go to our cabin up in New Hampshire a lot more. She needs time to herself. One day my dad brings my sister and I up to his office and gives us each a hug and says,

“That’s it. The marriage is over. Your mother is having an affair.”

My favorite author, Chuck Palahniuk once wrote in Fight Club, “We have just lost all cabin pressure,” and I have never related to a set of text more in my life. Right around the same time, and a week before my birthday, my girlfriend of 7 moths decided another guy was more suitable. Whatever, I was learning life lessons a lot this year it seemed.

Now, to be fair, to this day I don’t actually know what my mother was doing and it’s not really any of anyone else’s business. Both of them were unhappy and it needed to end for both of them so that they could be where they are now. My mom is happily living in New Hampshire at the same cabin, and my Dad is putting around the country with his lady. Good for them, right?

Backing up a little bit, before my dad met his new lady, we lived in several different places. We lived in a quiet little town that held the high school that I graduated from, then we moved back to the town we lived in when we moved from Kansas all those years ago. We went on like that for about three more years, trying to repair ourselves as a group after the divorce, my father, sister and I. We didn’t abandon my mother but there was a lot of confusion at that time and my sister and I didn’t know what to think and my mom was too far away to form our own ideas based on her story. So we were quiet for a little bit. I finished high school and was in a relationship for the majority of these three years. I was trying my best to be happy and I didn’t realize that I was cramming all of these emotions down and away until now. And then my dad met Her. Thats when it REALLY started going downhill for me, and it hasn’t gone far back up since.

My dad was 50 years old when I was born. He didn’t want to have children but then woke up one day and decided he wanted his family name to go on. I was 17, I think, when he met Her. I’m 21 now. If he was 50 when I was born, I’ll let you do the math. He realized he may not have too much time left and decided that he wanted to start living for himself. He moved to Florida with Her, and my sister moved in with a friend. I went back to our broken family home, which was on the market at the time. I’m not mad at him. I’m happy that he’s able to finally start living his life the way he’s wanted too.

I worked. I worked a lot while living in this house at a race track about 10 minutes up the road. I loved this race track as if I owned it, like it was mine. It was a newly built facility and I became a part of the crew at the end of its first year of operation. It was bittersweet work because while watching amazing pieces of machinery race around 2.3 miles of some of the best racing surfaces you can find in New England, I was stuck out in the sun and the heat. This is where my anxiety really started to get ahold of me. I stayed at this track for 2 years.

If you’ve never been through an anxiety attack, you’re more lucky than you may know. I thought my heart was stopping. I remember being hunched over in my chair on my corner of the race track telling my GM on the radio that I needed to get down and that I was having a serious problem. I felt like my heart was stopping, dear reader. I was hunched over in that fucking green folding chair with no feeling in my hands staring at a rock on the ground waiting for my life to end.

A small part of me was okay with it and I’m just now admitting it. That racing season ended and I haven’t been back very often since. This was 2016.  Hold on tight, we’re moving a little quickly now.

After the racing season ended I ran out of an income and I couldn’t qualify for unemployment based on how much I had made from the track. I couldn’t afford to heat the house I was in for the winter because it was too big, and again, I didn’t have any income. Nobody was hiring. At this point I was still with the girl I had been with since the beginning of the divorce. I had a lot of feelings for this girl and she was kind enough to let me kind of go back and forth between her parents for a while but ultimately decided that she needed to do things for herself. That’s fine. Good for her. Noticing a pattern? This was December of 2016. 

Well, now I’ve got nowhere to live. Look what you did for yourself, Sam, save your money you stupid fuck.

Lucky for me I’ve got some DAMN GOOD FRIENDS. Honestly, I don’t know what I did to deserve my inner circle in my life. My friend, Bej, we’ll call him for fun, and his amazing mother decided they could put me up for as long as I needed. I was infinitely grateful obviously but felt terrible deep down in my gut. I know that I have these friends but I felt like I had nothing. My family was all over the place when I thought for my whole life leading up to this point that I would always have the support group of my family right there behind me. They were there, but so, so fucking far away. I was newly out of a relationship and felt like everything was going against me. 

I stayed with Bej and his mother for 3 months until I was able to find work at a new chain restaurant that was opening not far away. The second that I heard this place was opening I was the first to apply, the first to be interviewed, and the first to be hired to this new store. I was finally doing something for myself and felt amazing about it. I willingly drove an hour every day to go to the proper training for the new store and worked as hard as I could as often as I could. I actually ended up landing Bej and another friend their first jobs here and we’re all still with the company as of Sept, 2017. I was still lonely, though. 

Remember the race track that I worked at? I went back for a regional event for a club I was a member of. It was a two day event. The first day wasn’t very eventful, cars raced, cars spun, people won awards. It was normal. We went down for lunch at noon.

There she was.

She was literally a fucking angel.

She was wearing a white BMW sweatshirt, white pants, and white Rosches. Literally an angel, guys.

I didn’t think I had a chance, honestly, so I didn’t fucking bother.

I tried to forget about her during the day. I got lost in the smell of race fuel and the loud engines until the end of the day. That’s when the Flag Chief told me who I’d be stationed with the next day.

Guess.

Okay, Sam, you don’t have a chance buddy but you’ve got nothing to lose.

“Hi, I hope you like sarcastic assholes!” -Nailed it.

We hit it off. I have said it before and I will say it many more times. I have NEVER. NEVER had any sort of connection like I do with this girl. It went well enough that I asked her out for ice cream after the event, and even though it was far too cold for it, I had to ask. I could not pass this opportunity up. She said yes, and we went, and even though it wasn’t exactly a date because of some other friends that were there from the track, it went amazing. I knew that day that good things were going to come of it. You’re probably sitting there thinking things are turning around, huh? Ha, me too. 

I don’t know how to really explain the next whole bit without giving out too much personal information that I’m not at liberty to give, so I’m just going to try to wrap this up.

Legally, we can’t be together. Nothing to do with age or anything, we’re both the same age, but things are going on in her life that are keeping us apart. In addition, she has attempted school before but got caught up in social/love lives and school fell through because of it. She and I don’t want that to happen again. We’re taking a break. It’s a bit more of a break than I thought but I will do everything I can to be here on the far end of it. I don’t know how long this break will be and the lack of communication scares me. I fell HARD for this girl, reader. And as far as I know she fell hard for me. Why does this look so easy for her?

Basically, this has just been a sob post about how much of a mess I think my life is but its all really starting to weigh on me and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m getting to the point where I don’t really want to be here anymore. I left out a lot about how the multiple jobs I have/am trying to keep up, aren’t working due to abusive bosses because I suck at writing and this whole post is a shitshow anyways. I don’t know. I should shut up. Sorry for the anticlimactic ending. I’ve been at this for several hours and took a long break to work in the middle. I just wanted to let something out somewhere. 

Thanks for reading. I hope you’re well, whoever and wherever you are. Better than I feel, at least.