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plutolovesyou · 2 months

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how soon is now? | part two

READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸

previous chapter. series masterlist.

♡: hallway crush!ellie x uni student!reader

☆: the long-awaited second part of this godforsaken fic (lawd she’s given me trouble). appreciate y'all's patience as always, i'm a chronic procrastinator and perfectionist but what can i do. after this, i'm gonna take a break from this series. not saying i'll never write more, but wanna work on some other stuff for a while. thank you for reading! pretty please don’t hate me or show up at my house waving torches and pitchforks for this ending ok luv u gays in my phone. + a big thank you to @total-dxmure for helping me w/ some ideas for the last little bit!

♧:5.7k word count (lawd)

◇: sfw! miscommunication (sawry). fluffy moments, angst lowkey…both of yall cry at one point or another, reader has anxiety in the last chunk. modern au but joel isn’t alive in this, and they discuss it. maybe some rushed points here and there, i’m not really the proudest of this but needed to finish it anyway. potentially horrendous pacing but ok i think that’s all? idfk i may give y’all a little epilogue eventually, but don't dwell on it for the time being!

4 months later

Your friendship with Ellie was evolving wonderfully. You two were studying together frequently, and both your grades in the ghastly astrophysics class increased exponentially. Although that wasn't the only thing that was increasing at a rate too fast to fathom. Your crush on her. It was ripping you apart like wildfire, Ellie was proving herself to be such a wonderful person inside and out, and you were slowly but surely nearing your limit of how much it could build before you burst. A movie spin off of the Savage Starlight series had come to streaming, and Ellie had invited you to her place for a movie night so you two could watch it and discuss if it was a faithful entry in your beloved series or not.

Dressed in some comfortable pjs and armed with snacks of all kinds, your favorites as well as hers, the time had come and you were at her door. You straighten your posture and put your hair back in place, must look presentable, then knock, knock, knock.

You could hear some faint shuffling behind the door, then a few thudding steps until she opened it for you. She was dressed in an old, worn Nirvana tee, and red checkered pajama pants, damn she looked good, even when she was dressed with less effort than usual.

Ellie looked so pleased to see you, leaning on the doorframe. Why did she have to look so good all the time? “Hi! I’m so glad you came, ooh this is gonna be so fun.” She invited you in and took the snacks from your arms and placed them inside her room. “Oh yeah, I also put up some decor too so we can get into the Savage Starlight spirit.” Her eyes were wide and twinkling and when she stepped aside to let you see, she really had made her room so welcoming and comfortable.

The lights were all off save for LEDs around the room’s perimeter set to a dreamy violet hue, sparkly fairy lights draped around the frame of her bed which was set up so cozily. Her laptop propped up on a pillow, the sheets arranged in a nest-like formation with two spaces for each of you. She even had a few dinosaur stuffed animals placed in a row so they could watch too.

You were so flattered she'd do that and make the atmosphere so nice for the two of you, you could just tackle her in a hug and never let go.

The thing is you were scared she'd perceive that as weird and you didn't feel like dying of embarrassment, not today at the very least. Save that for another day, maybe. Oh, how you wanted to squeeze her so bad. Your imagination had to do for now.

She was standing there so proud of how she arranged her room into a mini theater, and you beamed at her, silently thanking her for making it so dim so she couldn't see your flustered expression in full.

“Ellie this is amazing!!” “You like it?!? These stupid lights kept on falling off but since this is an important occasion for us both I didn't give up. All for our love, Daniela.” She manipulated her voice and waved in the air with two fists, closed her eyes and put her hand over her heart, just being as dorky as ever.

Oh gosh, hopefully it wasn't going to be awkward. Sure, the two of you had grown to be great friends, but were you that close to be just, relaxing in her bed together? As long as your imagination didn't run too wild and you didn't overthink anything, it was going to be a fun time. Just two pals watching their favorite series, nothing more, nothing less.

She threw herself in the mess of comforters with a grunt, and saw you were hesitating. She patted the empty space next to her so you'd join her and the movie night could begin. “C’mere, don't be shy.” Well, no shit you were going to be shy. Suck it up.

You crawled in next to her, unable to look her in the eyes, while she got everything ready and rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Man, if they do our girl dirty, we’re gonna have to give someone a knuckle sandwich, you with me?” Her jokes and easy going vibes always made her so fun to be around, but unfortunately for you, you fell harder for her every time. “Yeah, Ellie. A knuckle sandwich for all of them.” You retorted with a chuckle. Once both of you were settled, she pressed play and so it began.

As the movie played, the two of you laughed and debated every plot twist, cursing the directors for not portraying your queen Daniela how she deserves, and snacked on candy until your stomachs hurt. It was going so well, the friendly hang out both of you needed after so many responsibilities in life. An escape. Occasionally sneaking peeks Ellie’s way, she was just so marvelously pretty. The shadows dancing on her features, illuminating her side profile perfectly, her long eyelashes and button nose, who wouldn't get lost in admiring her?

Of course you could never fully relax around her, or forget the crush no matter how hard you tried to push it down and just be friends. Every time she shifted next to you in the bed you felt your heart seize and the butterflies in your stomach turn into hornets. At this rate, they were going to turn into whole birds for fuck’s sake.

Nearing the end of the movie, the two of you were so invested, so captivated in the events, totally spellbound.

But then the film took a more emotional turn that wasn't in the comics. Daniela and her father had an absolutely vicious argument which left the two of you speechless watching it, which luckily got quickly resolved right after the two characters had a near-death experience together.

You weren't one to get emotional over silly, trivial things like fiction, but the way they showed this entire sequence was nothing short of heart-wrenching. You snatched up one of Ellie's patterned pillows and hugged it tightly to your chest, because cuddling her would have been much too bold for the likes of you. But what you’d give to do that instead.

Seems you were not the only one touched by the scene, as you began to hear some light sniffling from next to you. Looking over at Ellie made your heart break further into a million pieces. She looked lost in thought with thin lines of tears streaming down her plump, freckled cheeks.

You froze for a moment, not knowing the limits of your relationship with her and how you could comfort her best. So you cleared your throat and mumbled, “That was so sad…” You watched as she avoided your gaze and wiped at her face with the collar of her t-shirt, “Yeah, this kind of stuff hits me, feels a little personal y’know.” She has never opened up to you about her struggles before, in the short time you’ve known and gotten close with Ellie, it always seemed like she was there to help you out, not the other way around. This could be your chance to show her that you are there for her as well, and that she can always count on you.

Being curious but at the same time not wishing to pry too much into her private affairs, you quietly asked with the most gentle tone of voice you could muster,” You don’t have to, but I’m here if you ever wanna talk about it, Ellie.” You watched her out of the corner of your eye, anticipating however she reacts.

She stayed quiet for a beat before sighing deeply, and whispered, “We were having a fun time, I really don't wanna be a burden.” Her voice quivered, heavy with emotion, what could possibly be troubling her this much? You wanted to take all her pain and bear it yourself, she didn't deserve any sort of misfortune ever.

“You can tell me, don’t worry about anything, okay? I just want you to be all good.” You were comforting her so smoothly, putting her needs and well-being first as if it was always second nature, as if you two have known each other many lifetimes over, two souls meant to float together through the journey of life. Well okay, that was probably a bit much.

There were a few more seconds of silence as you let the question ring in the air, not wanting to press and jeopardize your cherished friendship with her.

You continue observing her, almost seeing the gears turning in her mind, the scales of reason tipping to one side then another, as she contemplates whether it’s worth spilling. Eventually, she does.

She roughly rubs her face then pauses the film playing on her laptop, sighs and huffs, before beginning to speak her story, all while looking away from you.

“Okay I don’t like to talk about this kind of stuff, but I trust you. A whole lot.” Your heart fluttered and face heated up at her comment, but you ignored it because there was something much more important on the table now. She continues, speaking quietly but quickly to get it over with.

“So, when I was a kid, I was an orphan and to be honest I don’t really remember my early childhood much at all, but when I was 14 my adoptive dad, Joel, took me in. And it’s been just us since then.” She stops to take a breath, then resumes reluctantly. “And well, we’ve had a pretty rocky relationship for a good chunk of these years, I never knew how to express my gratitude to him, y’know, for basically saving my life, numerous times at that. He was always my rock, and I appreciate him every day. He taught me so many things, and I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t come around. I was pretty hard to deal with back then.” She reminisces with an exhale of air, and you see her eyes refill with tears. “But I’m really bad at expressing that, and will kinda, lash out I guess when I’m met with kindness or tricky situations.”

You nod, listening patiently, and place your hand on her shoulder ever so gently, as a result making her raise her head to give you a small smile.

Ellie chuckled deeply, it almost sounded forced, then started to slowly wrap up her story. “And it seems that scene kinda hit me, because the wounds are still raw, or whatever.”

She sniffles again but doesn't respond, so you delicately inquire, “What do you mean?”

“He died last year.” Oof.

“Oh my, Ellie, I’m so sorry, are you-” She interrupts your condolences. “No need for that, I’m fine. Well, taking it day by day y’know. In the beginning it was really tough, I was angry at everything but most at myself for being such a jerk, and now I can't turn back time and tell him all I wanted to.” While you take a moment to think about what to say, she hums to herself and remarks, “That actually felt good to get off my chest, I haven't told anyone about it.” She lowers her voice so it’s barely a whisper. “Didn't have who to tell.”

“Sure you're okay? I'm always here for you.” You find your voice back to soothe her some more, to which she smiles at you again, only this time it actually seems genuine. There's definitely a lot of pain behind it, but the relief that she doesn't have to deal with the burden alone was evident on her face.

“Yeah, thanks. I guess I hadn’t processed anything, and that part of the movie made it all come out, damn I hate emotions sometimes. But I appreciate you being here for me. You're really easy to talk to, and I feel better now.”

And you would've never in a trillion years anticipated what her next move was going to be, you were so caught off guard, the realization lagged and it didn't immediately register.

She moved to sit on her knees in front of you, then threw her arms around your torso in a tight embrace. She hugged you. Clutched you so firmly against her own body, her strong hands landing in the middle of your back, where she rubbed in a circle. She smelled so nice, and was as warm as one of her heated stuffed animals.

Due to the surprising nature of the motion you let out a dumbfounded gasp, then returned the hug allowing yourself to rest your head on her shoulder. You wanted to stay like this forever, until the end of time, it felt nicer than you could've ever imagined.

The thought crossed your mind that she could feel the buzz pulsating through your body, you swore your heart was slamming against your ribcage so hard it was going to grow wings and simply fly right out of your chest, and join hands with hers.

While you were occupied with the way she felt against you, so close like this, chest against chest, and how your cheeks blazed with an inferno hotter than a thousand suns, you heard her grumble against your ear. “Not gonna make that same mistake again, and from now on, I'm gonna tell the people I appreciate just how much they matter to me.”

You were much too stunned to speak, but she wasn't. “So thank you again.” She finishes her little speech and pulls away first, but not before giving you one last big squeeze and letting out a noise of contentment as she does so, then shuffles over to her previous spot in the bed.

Not taking notice of the way you were at a loss for words, or about to set the room on fire with how flustered her actions made you. Her obliviousness was a common theme, it seemed. She clears her throat and claps, grabbing some more candy for herself, then says happily, “We still got the rest of the movie left, then we can do whatever after. I really wanna know how this ends.”

Naturally, your head is spinning, but you were too caught up in your thoughts to continue paying attention to the movie as much as you were before.

You felt awful for her, yet somehow, felt as if your crush on her had quadrupled in size yet again. You saw through the guard she put up, she broke down those walls and opened up to you. You were honored she trusted you so much, and only hoped that would never change. That, coupled with how remarkably good hugs she gave, has led you to the realization that you were properly in love now, things had gotten real. This was trouble. You vowed to always be there for her for whatever she could ever need, you'd drop everything to teleport by her side if you could.

Goodness, what were you possibly going to do now, instead of giving you the ick, or helping you with the task of getting rid of that stupid infatuation you were so plagued by, every experience felt like a deliberate ploy to just make you fall even further for her. You couldn't help but wonder just how much love a person can feel for someone, because it only continued to grow.

A couple days later.

Sitting in the cozy campus cafe, you were revising all your coursework. It was giving you a massive headache, but the warm and hazy lighting aided it a touch. The walls had cute plastic vines crawling up and down, and even though there was chatter all around you from the other patrons, it wasn't a distraction and in fact acted as some sort of white noise, everyone was talking in a nicely muted tone, it all blended to create the perfect ambience.

You waved down the waitress to get yet another cup of coffee, your third one of the night, that’s healthy, before trying to resume with your aggravating studies.

To your dismay, you've used up all your brain power for the evening, and could not force yourself to continue no matter how hard you tried. Maybe a few moments of peaceful people-watching would get you back on track?

You sip on the hot drink, then lean back against the comfortable booth seat to begin scanning around.

In one corner directly on the opposite side of where you were sitting, there was an elderly couple. They looked so in love, dressed in matching outfits, feeding each other as they shared a dessert, holding hands and conversing with a hushed tone, nodding and looking into each other's twinkling eyes. So cute, you hoped that was going to be you in the future.

Moving your line of sight to watch beside the couple, there was another student, their books and computer were scattered across the wooden table, piles of pens and pencil cases near falling over. They seemed to have fallen asleep, unmoving with their head laid tiredly across their crossed arms. The sight made you chuckle out of familiarity, you really felt for them, studies were hard.

But then a sound caught your attention. A bright, husky giggle fought its way over the ambience, reminiscent of a certain someone.

Your heart jumped, your ears perked up and you immediately became insistent on scouting her out among the patrons, this was a necessary mission.

Feeling highly nervous and antsy, you try to drown out the noise and focus on where she could be, and quickly enough, you find her.

Ellie in her natural habitat, she was so mesmerizing. Sitting far away from you where you could get a good view and hear snippets of conversation if you focused hard enough, but not close enough where she would notice your shameless gawking. She was sitting with a group of a handful of her friends, who all appeared to be gossiping and laughing with each other, you couldn't tear your eyes away.

Her smile was gorgeous, and you knew that, but there was something about just being a spectator which fascinated you, you could stare at her all day. Her energy lit up the entire room, and made your heart race.

Snapping out of your trance and trying to not be so obvious with your staring, you tried to look occupied, tried reorganizing your notes while still keeping an ear out to listen. Occasionally glancing over as well. Yes, it's true that eavesdropping is wrong, but you couldn't help yourself. Anyone would do the same, right?

The group's passionate discussion was making you extremely curious however, and you strained to hear what they were talking about. Among the muffled chatter, you heard a woman’s voice say the word crush, then an outburst of laughter, the loudest guffaw from Ellie herself.

You felt the budding panic start to form in your chest momentarily, but swallowed the lump forming in your throat and took a sharp intake of breath to calm yourself at once. They could be talking about anything, there's no need to jump to conclusions just yet. Fumbling around your bag for your headphones to listen to some of the song recommendations Ellie had given you, you’re led to discover that they are, in fact, dead. Of course.

Despite any and all wishes to stop eavesdropping on them and mind your own business and abide by what they say, ignorance is bliss, you simply couldn't. She was too damn captivating. Like a painting in a museum, like a statue at a town’s center, one that people stopped in their tracks to admire.

The way her eyes sparkled and gleamed under the warm lighting, her cheeks tinted a faint rosy hue from the exertion of laughing so hard, her sweet smile. She was too perfect. God, you hated crushes, being infatuated with someone to this degree couldn't be healthy. But what could you do? Just look at this angel.

Fidgeting nervously while still being entranced by the group of friends, you heard a man’s voice say the words “there’s no way”, followed by Ellie howling even harder than she had the whole time you've been watching them, and punch him forcefully on the shoulder.

The curiosity was going to swallow you whole, it was like a car crash you couldn't look away from. You felt your palms begin to tremble and sweat with worry, and anxious assumptions of all kinds running through your mind, were they talking about you? No, they couldn't be, you're just overthinking it. Relax, relax, relax.

You tried your hardest to control your breathing and soothe your spinning mind so you wouldn't spiral, until you heard something that absolutely shook you to your core.

The same woman from before, not Ellie, in a highly teasing tone of voice said your name.

You felt frozen, this couldn't be happening. All your worst fears were coming true at this very moment. You had to get out of there right away, this was too much to bear. Curiosity really did kill the cat didn't it, you wished you didn't comply with the morbid desire to know everything.

Panic-stricken like a deer in headlights, near hyperventilating at this point, the final straw was all three of them erupting into laughter simultaneously, with Ellie through gasps, going "oh come onnnn”.

Yeah that was it. Hot tears started pricking your eyes and you vigorously blinked them away before they started streaming down your face, as if you needed to be humiliated even more. You felt sadded, torn apart, betrayed. Sick to your stomach too. This time, for once, you really thought you had something going for you. From your perspective, albeit through rose-colored glasses, you were convinced she was being genuine with you all this time. How could you not be?

The late night study sessions, the air thick with tension, the conversations draped in a sleep-deprived haze, the walks to class together, the first fated interaction, the looks you two shared from across the huge lecture hall; the looks where you two just knew when to share a glance, was all of that fake? Was she leading you on purposefully because her friends thought it was funny, that you were a joke?

The tears threatened to spill and your stomach twisted painfully with the world-shattering realizations you were just served with, and you angrily shoved your belongings in your bag.

You were too caught up in your panicked frenzy to notice how disruptive you were actually being, your textbooks thumping and keychains jingling, but frankly didn't care enough to meet the numerous pairs of eyes observing your misfortune. Who could blame you, your whole world and everything you've known just crumbled before you.

You slung your bag over your shoulder noisily as a choked sob made its way up your throat, then speed-walked out of that cafe. You were never going to be able to go in there again unfortunately, shame, their pastries were so good.

Right as you tried to step through the door it got stuck, because the universe was being really nice to you today, and as you tugged on it to get it to open, you heard the friends lower their voices, but you could still make out a jumble of hushed words sounding something like, “oh no, is that…” Great, great, fucking great. The only solution to this was to change your name and ride up to Seattle for goodness’ sake, maybe throw yourself into a volcano as well just because.

Finally the door swung open after what felt like eons, and you stumbled outside into the chilly autumn air, feeling goosebumps spring up all over. Where you were going, you didn't really know. This cafe was new, so it would take some time to figure out navigation so you stood dumbly in the middle of the front lawn as you tried to orient yourself.

Once you think you've got it, you start your agonizing trek back to your little room, screaming inside of your head, until you're harshly yanked back mid-footstep by a vice grip on your arm. What the fuck was it now.

Ellie. The sight of her only made your tears increase in quantity and the emotion in your chest tighten. She looked a little disheveled, her eyes round like saucers, and she was gripping onto your arm so hard as if you were going to run away. You wanted to, but she still had a magnetic hold on you, even after all that turmoil.

Talking was painful with how much you were trying to keep a hold of yourself, but you managed out a choked, “Ellie, what?”

She looked befuddled, shaking her head ever so slightly and scrunching up her eyebrows, her gaze boring right into yours and following whenever you tried to break it and look elsewhere. Her hold on your arm softens, and moves to rest on your shoulder. “What do you mean what? You ran outta there like you were chased by a lunatic or something, what the fuck happened?”

Her tone startled you a little, why did she care so much? Noticing you jolt, she sighs and mellows her speech. “Sorry, what I mean to say is, I'm worried. Are you okay?”

You worried her? Heat rushed to your cheeks as you fought to break the increasingly uncomfortable eye contact, and all you could do was shrug. Your lip started quivering and you were losing the fight of keeping your composure, how wonderful. Despite everything she was being so sweet, way too sweet. You felt helpless at this point.

The words started pouring out of your mouth like a waterfall, you were properly sobbing now, falling apart and hiccuping as months and months of emotion spilled over.

You were blabbering about how you loved the friendship you formed with her, but how hurt you felt that she’d laugh about you, every possible insecurity just tumbled out of your lips, as you wiped at your teary face and runny nose and glanced at Ellie ever so often.

She let you talk for a bit until she saw you get even more upset, that's when she got a step closer to you, squeezed both your shoulders gently and kept a stern tone of voice to get your attention.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, slow down, I don't know what you're saying.” But you couldn't stop crying. Bottling up emotions was definitely a bad idea, because they were bound to burst sooner or later and unfortunately, you reached the breaking point. Sucking in some unsteady breaths as an attempt to regulate yourself, she was watching you patiently yet still cautiously.

Your voice was weak and shaky, but you were slowly feeling a little better. For the first time during this interaction, you meet her eyes. Why was she always so pretty? She was sculpted just to spite you, you were convinced. Tears welled up in your eyes once more, but you blinked them away. “Um…Ellie…” She nodded expectantly, wanting to know what was wrong. But you could not complete your sentence as yet another bout of ache washed over you.

To snap you out of it once and for all, Ellie grabbed your face. The sheer disbelief of her action was enough to stop your tears luckily, and she held your gaze while she used her thumb to swipe at the stray teardrops adorning your cheekbones. You wanted to die, what was going on?

Once your panic was replaced with fluster and stupefaction, she let you go, but was still standing really close to you. You felt jittery from it all, nervous, embarrassed and in love and everything under the sun all at the same time. You stared at her, then looked away, then looked at her plump pink lips which were set in a questioning pout, then back up to her sympathetic greener-than-grass eyes, fuck, fuck, fuck. The intensity of the situation had caused any sense of judgment or critical thinking to long, long gone, and so your body moved on its own and before you had a chance to form a solid thought or process what you were doing.

Smooch.

You kissed her.

Mouths colliding like magnets as you held onto the sides of her face, fireworks igniting in every single part of your body. Cradling her jaw as you closed the space between you two, the hurricane of emotion coursing through your veins as your lips caressed hers, and time felt like it had stopped. The months and months of excruciating pining had all led up to this very moment.

She instinctively kissed you back, you felt her breaths fanning your face. You were about to ascend to another dimension. Lingering against her for a little longer, you forced yourself to regretfully pull away, and laughed loudly at her state now.

Her lips were parted and she was gawking at you, you had broken her completely. Your own heart was working overtime, you were panting from the adrenaline of the situation, and could only hear the blood rushing in your ears.

She seemed to be in a coma, doing nothing but staring and breathing. You punched her arm playfully, your voice breaking.

“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.”

An frustrated confession tore itself from your throat, even the world's strongest iron bars couldn't contain it. You wiped at your face with your sleeves, a sad attempt to clear it of the residual salty tears that never once stopped their journey out of your eyes.

The sadness had left you, and you felt lighter now, truthfully. Had no idea how you would ever face her again after all this, but at least the cat was out of the bag and you had gotten that off of your chest. You both stood there in silence, now what was wrong with her? What a dork. Sucking on your teeth and kicking a pebble on the ground you admitted finally, “So, yeah. That's what's been troubling me, I guess.”

Her pupils were dilated and huge, as she scanned all over your features, her mouth opening and closing as if she was having an internal battle of what to say. She stood there almost appearing miles more shocked than you somehow, she looked as if she was going to have a heart attack and die on you, you found it funny, but concerning at the same time.

You watched her for a moment more, before accepting your disappointing fate and bidding her a goodbye. You cleared your throat. “Okay then. Cya in class. Bye.” You turned on your heel and began the walk back to your room, but this time for real, and didn't look back at her. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't, you wanted to leave this whole fiasco in the past. That chapter was closed, it seemed.

The only thing left to do now was call your bestie, Abby. She has been your cheerleader through this whole thing, through all this time, gave you advice and brought you back to Earth, and you needed her support now more than ever.

Right after you reached your dorm she was there in no time at all, after receiving your distress call she scrambled into action, with chocolates and boxed wine in hand. Maybe you should just date her instead at this point. Who else was left for you?

You talked and talked and talked to her about everything for so long, talking the night away just like old times, and she sat and listened to your every word, patted your back reassuringly as you weeped into her shoulder, then tucked you into bed at the end of it all. She left only when she was sure you'd relaxed fully.

You didn't fall asleep quite yet, and stayed awake thinking, pondering life and staring up at your ceiling. It turns out angrily confessing to the girl you've been infatuated with forever by impulsively kissing her and letting the whole campus know it was a tiring thing after all. You really did cause a bit of a scene, when you thought about it in hindsight.

But what was this all like from Ellie's perspective? You wished you could know what she thought, or at least gotten some sort of formal response. Her friend storms out of a cafe, kisses her and screams she's in love with her? It's certainly understandable she'd feel a little lost, or under great pressure to give you an answer. Her reaction did make sense though, after being met with such a shocking revelation. Wow, now that you were really thinking about it, she still did not know why you ran out of the cafe like that. You wished you could turn back time and redo this day, shame that wasn't possible. Were you two ever going to have a discussion about this, or had you just lost a friend for life. Oh no, you pushed that thought away as quickly as it appeared, you didn't have an ounce of energy left over to dwell on it.

You'd work out what you were going to face her next later, a very well-deserved visit to dreamland was way overdue. You felt your eyelids grow heavy and your breathing slow, so you turned on your side and snuggled into your bed, eventually falling into a deep, deep sleep.

Meanwhile on your bedside table:

Bzz, bzz, bzz.

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stars-and-inkpots · 3 months

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Ok- sorry I’ve never done this before. But I was wondering if you could do a Gale fic/ oneshot where tav/reader somehow finds a way to like remove his orb but instead of getting rid of it all together it goes to them? Like now they have the orb in their chest and they have like all the pain and the possibility of going boom? If not that’s completely fine- I just had that idea and I felt you’d be amazing for it! I hope you have an amazing day!<3

OKAY! I know I've been gone for like five months, but I finally got motivated again! (Those new patches have thrown me right back into my hyperfixation) I know this is so very very late, but I hope you enjoy! I really liked this idea, and it honestly might end of a part of a multi-chapter thing if I get around to it. This is set before the events of the game.

(p.s. it's 3 am and I haven't really read through this, so I'm sorry if there are some mistakes that I won't catch till I've slept)

What's Yours is Mine | Gale x Reader

After months of research, you finally find a way to get rid of the volatile orb in Gale's chest. Of course, things don't work out exactly the way you intend them to.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, brief allusion to suicide(kinda?)

Ao3 Link: Baldur's Gate 3 Requests

Word Count: 1249

You know it isn’t going to be easy. It’s taken months of research, and even now as you look through the large practically ancient book, you aren’t entirely sure that this is going to work. Gale is sceptical too, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He also knows that when it comes to old magic like this, there is always the chance of something going wrong. It wasn’t like this was simple magic either. The nature of his condition is complicated and volatile, and this could easily cause problems.

Gale sits in the centre of the chalk circle while you finish drawing the runes around it.

“Are you sure about this, my love?”

You’ve been talking in circles like this for the past twenty minutes while you’ve been preparing for the actual ritual.

“Yes, Gale. We’re so close to a solution now.” You draw the final line of a rune and walk over to kneel in front of him. “I’m sure. If there’s a chance to help you, I want to take it.” You kiss his forehead and he gives you a small smile. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“I’m sure,” he answers, and kisses you quickly before you stand again.

With the circle of runes finished, you move to grab the book. The page you need is bookmarked, and you flip to it to study the words on the page once more. Between the lines are notes and annotations in both Gale’s and your own writing. You added reminders on how to pronounce some of the words, and Gale had marked the translation. You look at Gale once more, and he gives you a reassuring nod.

You start reciting the lines from the book. Immediately, you can feel the air begin to buzz with magic. Three lines in, and you can taste copper, which is a common side-effect when it comes to older magic like this so it’s not too concerning yet. What is a little worrying, is the sheer amount of power you can feel moving through your body while you speak, and the slight purple glow that is spreading across your arms and steadily growing brighter. You chance a glance at Gale and notice that he too seems to be feeling the same effects. There’s a growing apprehension in both of you as you continue to speak the words on the page. By the time you reach the final line, the feeling is almost unbearable. It’s like the pressure in the room has increased tenfold, like a weight has been dropped on your shoulders and bears down on your lungs.

Once you utter the final word, everything seems to slow for a moment.

Then you feel it.

A horrible pain wracks through your body. You let out a scream. It feels like something is tearing open your chest- or is it clawing its way in? You can’t tell; you can’t think. Your vision is dark, and you aren’t sure if it’s because you’ve blacked out or because pain has forced your eyes shut. Everything feels cold, far, far too cold, but also so terribly hot.

Finally, the pain lessens enough that you can take a full breath, though it is interrupted by a sputtering cough. When you eventually open your eyes again, you realise that at some point you must have fallen to the floor. You can feel Gale’s arms around you, he is shaking.

“Did it work?” You ask, despite how much it hurts to speak. The burning feeling in your chest hasn’t entirely left yet.

“That doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

You try to sit up and wince with the effort. Gods, your chest hurts.

“I’ll be alright. Gale, did it work?” You ask again, looking for the tell-tale mark on his chest and neck. You find the scar still, skin sunken in some parts and raised in others, but it is no longer the usual, shimmering purple. Now, it just looks like a normal (save for the shape) scar. You smile, because at least the spell did its job. Then you see a look of horror cross Gale’s face.

“No, gods no,” he whispers, tentatively brushing his fingers along your collarbone. You hiss in pain. It feels like he’s brushed his hands across a fresh burn.

You bring your own hand up to feel the centre of your chest, and your stomach drops. You know the shape, having memorised it from the number of times you ran your hands across Gale’s scar. This spell worked, but not in the way it should have.

“We have to do it again,” Gale stands, pushing a still shaky hand through his messy hair. He stares at the special candles that have already burnt far too low to make it through the ritual a second time, and lets himself believe that they will be enough. “I am not going to let you carry my burden like this. Get in the circle and I can start the ritual again.”

“You know that won’t work. The candles are out, and all the herbs and incense are burnt, not to mention the crystals. It will take ages to find those again.” You don’t blame him for this, no matter how much he might blame himself and how much he might want you to blame him. “I’ll be fine, Gale. You managed it for so long, and now it’s my turn. We’ll figure it out.” A part of you remembers what Gale said of his power and how the orb drained it, but you quickly silence those thoughts before you can worry too much about your own magic.

“No. This wretched thing is the consequence of my mistake. I will not let you suffer through it. I can’t.” He’s kneeling in front of you again, cradling your face in his hands. “What if it becomes unstable? I can’t-” Gale tries and fails to keep his voice steady. “That cannot happen to you.”

“And it would be better if it were to happen to you? It is fine for you to die with it?” You return, perhaps too harshly, but surely now he might understand how it felt to hear him say such things when it was him with the magic bomb in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” is all he answers after a few moments of silence. You aren’t sure what exactly he’s apologising for, but you wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“We’ll figure this out. We always do. I promise.” The pain still hasn’t subsided completely. You can’t imagine how Gale has managed to grit his teeth and bear it on his worst days if this is how the orb feels when it is, more or less, stable. You feel him press a kiss to the crown of your head. “It’s like we always say, remember? What’s yours is mine.” The phrase was common between you two. It was one of the first things Gale had said when you moved into the tower with him. ‘What’s mine is yours,’ he had said with a grand sweeping gesture. Since then it has been used whenever either of you had to borrow something from the other, anything from books to warm wool sweaters you had no intention of returning anytime soon. It seems strange to say it now, but you hope it gets your point across regardless; by the slight shake of Gale’s chest as he laughs softly, you figure it has.

#bg3 #baldurs gate x reader #gale dekarios #x reader fic #gale x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 fic #baldurs gate gale

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avastrasposts · 8 months

Text

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 32**

We are slowly moving towards rock bottom with poor Frankie as he tries to get a handle on his addiction and his own demons.

I'm about to update the warnings for the next chapter. If there's something you're very sure you don't want to read about, please heed them. And if you don't want spoilers, please send me a DM and I'll tell you if you need to worry or not. I am moving towards something very dark and I know it might not be everyone's cup of tea and that's absolutely fine!

Series Master List

Chapter 33- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 10.9k

Another week passes, and you think maybe Frankie does better although his nightmares are still ever present, he gets moody sometimes and he’s always too tired, but slowly you think, maybe, you see an improvement. At least he stays away from Joel, you know that. He comes with you to the radio office in the morning or goes straight to someone who needs help fixing something, sometimes he goes scavenging for spare parts, or trades for them at the market, but never outside the QZ. When he’s done he comes by the radio, or you meet him and the guys at the bar. Often Tommy joins you, sometimes even Joel. Pope tells you he’s asked Joel if Frankie has tried trading for drugs again and Joel says he hasn’t seen Frankie at all.

It’s been four weeks since Frankie came clean to you all, and the warm spring air seems light to you, even in the QZ. The ever entrepreneurial manager of the bar, Liz, has somehow managed to turn the grimy backyard into a ‘beer garden’ of sorts and now you’re all out there, sprawled in an assortment of patio furniture around a white plastic picnic table.

Will keeps glancing at the door, Diana hasn’t turned up yet and even though she’s not late, you know Will is on edge until she gets here, just like you are before Frankie turns up.

There’s been an increase in Firefly activity and FEDRA is on high alert, meaning random stops and checks in the street were now commonplace. The group you’d first only heard about through the scattering of graffiti throughout the QZ, had started making noise. Suddenly they’d recruited more people, were spreading their demands for a more just rule of the QZ, and almost every alley wall had their ‘slogan’ hastily spray painted across it; 'If you're lost in the dark, look for the light’.

More than once you’d been approached by them, random women mostly, striking up conversations about FEDRA’s unjust methods and harsh control of the QZ. You knew the guys had also been approached, their reputation as men who knew how to handle themselves and any gun placed in their hands, made them prime targets for Firefly recruiters. So far all attempts had been shut down, getting involved in rebellions was something they’d done back in Delta Force and they were done with that.

Will’s eyes flick to the door leading out to the backyard again as it swings open, but this time it’s Frankie. He’d gone inside for a round of drinks and he stumbles across the threshold, nearly spilling the tray of glasses he’s holding.

“Jeez, Fish,” Benny laughs, “How many drinks did you have before I got here?”

“Only one,” Frankie grumbles, carefully watching his steps as he crosses the yard and sets down the tray on the table.

“The old man can’t take his alcohol anymore,” Tommy jokes, the two youngest men of the group chuckling together as Frankie rolls his eyes and hands you one of the glasses before sitting down next to you, his hand drifting to your thigh almost by its own accord.

“You feeling ok?” you ask him in a low voice as Ben and Tommy continue celebrating being the youngest, and he nods, taking a sip of his drink before he gives you a quick smile.

“Yeah, I’m good, just tired, didn’t sleep great last night again,” he answers and you put your hand on top of his, braiding your fingers between his.

“It’ll get better, Frankie,” you soothe him, “you’re doing great.”

Frankie looks at the whiskey swirling around his glass and gives you a weak smile before he takes another sip and looks over at Pope who’s asked Will something. You keep glancing at Frankie when he’s not looking. You know something isn’t right, but you can’t push it, not yet. He’s too tired, too sluggish even though he seems to be doing better. Pope had said it might just be the withdrawal symptoms, and it’s been only two weeks. But you feel blind, you can’t do anything but trust him, if he’s still using, you won’t know until it’s too late. So you scan his face, watch his moves, hoping and praying he’s being honest with you all and that he’s just fighting withdrawal symptoms.

You lean back, taking a sip of your own drink, when from the street a loud explosion suddenly rocks through the air, making you all rush to your feet and turn towards the entrance to the bar. Shouts can be heard from inside and the sound of breaking glass.

“Come on,” Pope says, “we need to get out of here!” He runs to the door, Frankie’s hold on your hand tightens and you follow him and next to you, you hear Will curse loudly.

“Fuck! Diana is on her way here, I’ve got to find her!” He wrenches the door open, everyone inside is on their feet, facing the front door and someone is carefully looking outside. Just as Will crosses the room, heading for it, the door swings open and Diana runs inside, covered in dust, coughing. He’s on her in a split second, carefully cupping her cheeks.

“Honey, please tell me you’re ok! What happened?”

Diana coughs again and nods, “I’m ok, I think, the explosion was pretty far down the street, I just got pushed by the blast.”

Will is running his fingers over her head, scanning her body for any injuries, before he pulls her into a hug.

“Thank fucking god,” you hear him mumble.

“We should get out of here,” Pope says, the bar is emptying now. The other patrons are filtering out through the door, looking down the street before hurrying off. When you’re all out on the street you can hear the rumble of FEDRA trucks approaching and the blaring of their alarms.

“You guys should come over to our place, it's the closest, gonna be a bitch to get home now,” Frankie says.

“I’m gonna head over to my girlfriend,” Tommy says, “she’s just a couple of streets over, gonna make sure she’s ok.” He waves a quick goodbye before he takes off, jogging down a side street.

“C’mon,” Pope starts walking towards your building. You walk fast, getting out of the way of more and more FEDRA soldiers moving in, heavily armed and looking ready to take down anyone they don’t like. You feel relieved when you make it inside, everyone piling into your apartment, it’s bigger than Pope’s. Just as you’re about to step inside, one of your neighbors comes up the stairs.

“Did you hear the explosion?” he asks and you nod.

“Yeah, we were at the bar, do you know what happened?”

“Those damn Fireflies, they blew up a truck! Blew a big hole in the street!” He shakes his head as he starts up the next flight of stairs, “FEDRA’s going to be worse than ever now, mark my words!”

You sink down on the couch in the crowded living room, Frankie sits on the arm rest next to you and you put your arm around his waist, leaning into his side.

“Fucking Fireflies,” Pope grumbles, “I know they’re trying to make things better but what the fuck do they think blowing up trucks will do?”

“FEDRA will crack down even harder now,” Will says, handing Diana a damp washcloth and helping her clean the dust off her face and clothes. “Have they even been successful in other QZ’s?”

Through the radio, and overhearing people’s messages, you knew the Fireflies have spread over most of the US. From almost every QZ came reports of their activities, usually hiding dissent at how FEDRA ran the QZ’s, it was clear that FEDRA wasn’t doing a good job anywhere.

“I haven’t heard anything of them having any major success,” you reply, “at most they manage to disrupt things, and from what little people say, FEDRA cracks down hard on everyone, not just the Fireflies.”

“How does FEDRA respond?” Pope asks and you shake your head, grimacing.

“Not well…extended curfews, harder punishments, even death penalties, harder controls of medicine and food, checkpoints across the QZ, a couple of places even have public executions, I heard they do hangings in Kansas City.”

“Great,” Benny sighs, “It’ll be fucking Arlington all over again if they keep this up.”

“You can’t blame them though,” Eve says, she’s sitting on Benny’s lap, “FEDRA are fucking fascists, the Fireflies want to over throw them and have democratic rule.”

“Yeah, sure, FEDRA are a bunch of fascists, but when has bombing city streets ever helped?” Benny asks and Eve just shrugs.

…

The next day FEDRA trucks drive through the QZ, blaring an announcement from loudspeakers in the truck beds.

“The criminal gang known as The Fireflies is now classified as a terrorist organization. Any citizen found collaborating or participating will be tried and convicted.”

They drive through the QZ all day and before long you feel a headache throbbing behind your eyes as you sit at the radio. There’s less people stopping by today, most are too scared to go out unless they have to.

“Joy came by with a message for her brother,” Sean says as you share lunch in the office. “She said a FEDRA officer told her they are going to execute anyone found to be a Firefly member.”

“That’s terrible,” you say, “FEDRA’s trials are a joke already, now they’re going to execute people based on those?” You shake your head and scrape the last of the thin stew up with your arepa.

“They’ve put up checkpoints everywhere,” Sean sighs, “It feels like this is only the beginning.”

“Not only checkpoints, I was stopped three times in the street by soldiers on my way over here this morning, everyone is a potential terrorist in their eyes now.” .

Your lunch is suddenly disturbed by a door slamming open down the hall and shouts from the few people waiting for your lunch break to be over. Heavy boots come stomping down the hallway and you throw a worried glance at Sean. The door of the office is only half closed but now it’s thrown wide open, slamming against the shelf behind it with a loud crash. Two FEDRA soldiers step inside, their rifles pointed at the floor thankfully, followed by an office and two more soldiers.

“On your feet!” the office barks, “Up against the wall!” You’d already flown to your feet when the door slammed open, now the soldiers advance on you both with their guns raised and you back up against the only window in the room.

“Where are your records of incoming and outgoing messages?” the office asks, his voice rough as he pushes the papers on the radio desk around.

“We-we don’t keep any records.” Sean stutters, “Sir,” he adds.

“Why not? What are you hiding?” the officer, his name tag says Ambrose, barks, “All incoming and outgoing messages must be logged.”

“Only civilians use this radio, there is no rule saying we have to keep logs of their messages.”

“New rule, from now on you have to keep a log of all messages,” the officer sneers, “Check those shelves for contraband, you two, check those boxes.” He directs the soldiers to the shelves and boxes that line the wall and they start rifling through the content. You know they only contain spare parts for the radio, nuts and bolts, a few wires, but the soldiers go through it like they’re expecting to find drugs and weapons, every piece is pulled out and left scattered on the floor.

“Please, be careful with that, they’re spare parts for the radio,” Sean protests as one of the soldiers knocks over a box of equipment.

“Shut up old man, or I’ll toss ‘em out the window,” Officer Ambrose snarls, “you’re lucky we’re letting you keep ‘em to start with.”

“They’re parts for this particular amateur radio model,” you interject, “they won’t work with the more powerful army issue radio FEDRA uses.” Frankie had taught you that when he helped Sean find some of the parts in an old AV shop a few blocks away.

Ambrose looks at you and you see a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, “You’re Morales’s wife,” he says, “you and him hang around with the Millers and that other beaner, Garcia.” He looks you up and down, “No wonder you work there then, that’s how they get their information.” You feel your skin run cold, if he’s saying what you think he’s saying, then FEDRA knows about the smuggling.

“She works here because she’s an excellent radio operator and she knows this machine better than even I do!” Sean protests, “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

“Start keeping those records, old man,” he snarls, still looking at you, “Or we’ll come back and smash the radio and your office to pieces. And just a warning; I catch as much of a whiff of Firefly activity here, you’re both going to the scaffolds.” He barks orders at the soldiers and they step outside, marching behind Ambrose down the hallway. Sean and you are left surveying the mess they’ve left behind, the content of the shelves and boxes scattered across the floor. With a deep sigh you bend down and start putting things back, checking for damage as you go.

It takes you the rest of the afternoon to tidy the office while Sean handles the people still waiting to receive and send messages. He writes down the messages people send, and the ones received, putting all the scraps of paper in a box. If FEDRA wants to read what people talk about, they’ll have to sort through it themselves. Although Sean does raise the suspicion that maybe FEDRA will try to listen in on what the radio receives or broadcasts, it means you’ll both have to be much more careful in the future.

You head back home, feeling rattled by the day’s events, together with the checkpoints and being stopped in the street, FEDRA’s presence in the QZ is starting to feel oppressive. You remember how quickly it escalated in Arlington, praying it won’t come to that.

Frankie hadn’t been past the radio office today, he’d been helping a friend of Sean’s clean out and repair an old open fireplace in exchange for new boots he desperately needed, his old ones falling apart. When you open the door to the apartment you see the new boots neatly placed inside the door and heavy snoring comes from the living room. You look around the corner and smile, Frankie’s on his back on the couch, one arm slung over his head, the other across his chest, mouth agape while he snores, loudly. He’s not usually a heavy snorer but he hasn’t been sleeping well, often waking up tired and groggy. You kneel down next to him and put your hand on his arm, he twitches but keeps snoring, his nose wiggling over his mustache, making you smile. He looks younger and softer than he has in years when he’s sleeping like this, relaxed without nightmares. He must’ve decided to take a nap on the couch after coming home so you leave him sleeping. You tiptoe past him and into the kitchen to start making dinner.

The arepas are waiting to be fried when there’s a knock on the front door. You hear Frankie stir but he doesn’t wake up and you peek out before you open. Pope’s standing outside, a bag of groceries in his hand.

“Hey,” he says as you let him in and take the bag from him. “I brought some of the groceries I got with my ration cards, your cooking is better than mine,” he grins as he toes off his unlaced boots.

“Thanks,” you peer into the bag, spotting some stuff that was definitely not obtainable with ration cards, Pope, Will and Benny had made sure you had more than enough even though Frankie wasn’t smuggling and always seemed to make excuses to fill your pantry. “I’ll cook for you every day if you bring things like this,” you say and pull out a side of pork, something you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Frankie’s living the good life I see,” Pope chuckles, spotting him, still stretched out on the couch, snoring lightly now.

“He’s not sleeping great at night, he must’ve been really tired,” you look over at him and smile, he mumbles and turns on to his side, back to the room. “I should probably wake him up now though, or he won’t sleep tonight.”

“You get him up then, I’ll put this stuff away,” Pope takes the bag from you and goes to the kitchen while you go over to the couch and kneel down, wrapping your arm around Frankie’s waist and leaning your chin on his shoulder.

“Hey, Frankie boy, time to wake up,” you whisper, running your hand up and down his side and he mumbles incoherently, still firmly asleep. “Frankie, baby, wake up, or Santi’s gonna eat all your dinner,” you tease, shaking him lightly. He must be really tired, usually he wakes up the second you touch him, now he only mutters and rolls over onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes.

From the kitchen Santi starts rattling plates around; “C’mon, pendejo, despiértate! I’m fucking starving!” he yells and Frankie finally stirs enough to peel his eyes open.

“Cállate…” he mumbles while he blinks the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey baby, wake up,” you smile, pressing your lips to his scruffy jaw, “you’ve been sleeping for hours I think.” All you get in response is a grumble and you take his hand, pulling him up to sitting. He rubs his hands over his face and blinks a few times again, his eyes are red and he looks pretty out of it still.

“Are you feeling ok, Frankie? You look pretty terrible.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, giving you a weak smile before he yawns, “I slept like shit last night and I was fucking tired all day but I had to help with that fireplace, got ash fucking everywhere.”

“Your eyes are really red, did you rinse them?” you ask and he nods.

“Yeah, but I only had water, I hope it was clean enough.”

“C’mon, dinner’s served,” Pope calls from the kitchen and you give Frankie a hand up.

“The other’s aren’t here yet,” you say, “Will and Benny are coming over with Diana and Eve.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you,” Pope replies, “Will asked me to tell you that FEDRA is putting a new curfew in place, 6 am to 6 pm. It won’t come into effect until tomorrow but they didn’t wanna risk being outside with FEDRA soldiers looking to jump the gun any chance they get.”

“But that means we won’t be able to have dinner together at all!” You sink down in your chair with a grumble, “Fuck FEDRA.”

You start serving the stew, Frankie’s got his head in his hands on the table, giving you a tired smile when you place the bowl in front of him.

“Thanks.”

“Speaking of FEDRA assholes, an officer came by the radio today with a bunch of soldiers and turned the place upside down, luckily they didn’t break the radio,” you say, serving yourself. You see Frankie’s eyebrows furrow.

“What did they want?” he asks.

“Anything, I think,” you reply. “First they asked about logs for in- and outgoing messages, which we don’t keep of course. So they told us we have to from now on and I think they want to see if there’s any mention of the Fireflies from other QZ’s.”

“And they think you’ll write that down in a log book?” Santi says, shaking his head, “they’re more stupid than I thought…”

“I always just assumed they were listening in on the radio. That can’t be hard, it’s just regular amateur radio.”

“You give FEDRA way too much credit, cariño,” Frankie says while dipping his arepa in the stew, “they don’t know shit unless they have someone who actually was a radio operator before the outbreak. And I doubt it.”

“There was something else, more worrying,” you say, “the officer, Ambrose, recognized me as your wife. He made it sound like he knew about the smuggling. When he saw that I worked the radio he said ‘so that’s how they get their information.’ “

“We haven’t used Sean’s radio for setting up trades for years,” Santi frowns, “he couldn’t know about the smuggling through that, he’s hasn’t been in the QZ long enough.”

“So that means he knows about it some other way, but he doesn’t know how you get the information,” Frankie replies, “but how does he know?”

“Yeah, that’s worrying,” Santi says, tapping his fingers on the table as he furrows his brows, “I’ll have to talk to Will and Benny, see if we’re missing something. Or someone.”

The three of you fall silent while you finish dinner, it’s not until you’ve all sunk down onto the couch that Santi speaks again.

“I’m thinking we should probably be more careful with our runs, go less often, even if FEDRA aren’t getting nosy,” he says, opening the bottle of whiskey he’d brought. “Runs are getting more and more risky, not just getting out without FEDRA noticing, but also getting through the area around the QZ.”

“More infected?” Frankie asks and Santi nods.

“Yeah, people who are trying to get to the QZ are getting infected before they get here. And if they can’t, or don’t want to, kill themselves, they just add to the ones already there.”

“Please Santi, please be careful,” you plead with him, “it was always dangerous, if it’s even more now then maybe it’s best to stop.”

“Don’t worry, we have some ideas,” he says, smiling at you. “We’ve got a contact with FEDRA who’s willing to make sure certain supply trucks don’t get checked too thoroughly. I need to make sure he’s reliable and then we can start bringing in goods that way.”

“What’s Joel and Tommy doing?” Frankie asks.

“Still looking for someone to partner up with, don’t think they’ve found anyone yet though.” Santi replies, “And as far as I know, they’re still going outside pretty regularly.”

“I guess they have to if they want to meet up with the guy from Concord,” you say, “he’s the one supplying the oxy right?”

“Unless they found someone else, yeah, it’ll be the same guy.”

Santi stays until he sees Frankie yawn and your eyes starting to droop closed, the day catching up with you both..

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, get some sleep, both of you,” he winks, “no pre-bed activities, you both look like shit.”

“Thanks Santi, always the charmer,” you mock scowl at him as Frankie yawns again, wide enough to make his jaw pop.

“Night, hermano, see you tomorrow,” he mumbles, getting to his feet. After Santi’s left he locks up and follows you into the bathroom.

“I need a shower,” he mutters, his eyes half closed, “should’ve showered when I got home but I was too tired.”

“I need a shower too,” you say as Frankie begins to peel off his clothes and he gives you a tired smile.

“Please shower with me, hermosa,” he says, holding out his hand as he kicks off his jeans, “No funny business, I promise.”

“What if I want some funny business?” you smirk at him as you unbutton your own jeans but poor Frankie just shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired, cariño, without the pills the nightmares are kicking my ass,” he says, turning on the water and letting it run warm, “I’m not being a very good husband.”

“Don’t be silly, Frankie, you’re the best husband I’ve ever had,” you smile, dropping your shirt in the hamper and stepping in after Frankie, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. The warm water runs over you both and you sigh as it soaks over your tired muscles. Frankie just hums in response, hanging his head and letting the water run over him, until his brain catches up.

“I’m the only husband you’ve ever had,” he says with a snort, turning in your arms and putting his own around you. “You have nothing to compare with,” he smiles down at you as you blink up at him through the water.

“Am I the best wife you’ve ever had?” you ask with a coy voice that makes Frankie chuckle.

“Hmm…let me think about it,” he says, stroking his beard while you playfully poke his ribs and he smiles again, “Best wife I��ve ever had, best human I’ve ever known, you’re perfect in every possible way,” he says, bending down and running the tip of his nose along yours, gently nudging your cheek before his lips find yours. You moan into his mouth as he makes you open up for him, his tongue slipping along yours, tasting you and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until you’re breathless.

“I thought you said no funny business,” you mumble against his lips when you finally break apart.

“I’m just kissing my wife,” he mumbles back, the heavy weight of his cock making itself known between you.

“Does your dick know that?” you ask, sliding your hand between the two of you and closing your fingers around the thick length, even with the warm water from the shower, it feels hot in your hand. Frankie groans and you feel his hips jolt, thrusting into your hand as you start stroking him.

“Let me take care of you, Frankie,” you mumbled, reaching up and pressing your lips against his neck, your tongue slipping over his wet skin. You can feel the rumble of his throat under it as his cock twitches in your hand. “I want to taste you, feel that heavy weight of your cock in my mouth as you come.” You pull back and look up at him, his eyes already closed, his head tilted back, “Say it, Frankie, tell me what you want me to do.”

“Cariño,” he moans, “please, I want your mouth, suck my cock.” His hips jolt again, he’s holding back from fucking into your tight fist but you can feel him grow increasingly hard under your light grip. You give him a final kiss on his throat before you make him back up against the shower wall, he drops his head back with a dull thud. The harsh bathroom light is on and you take your time as you drop to your knees, admiring his thick and long cock, the shower has made it wet and slick, the head swollen and weeping. Looking up at him, blinking through the shower water, you see that he’s still got his eyes closed, but his breaths are rapid and strained. Still watching him you stick out your tongue and run the tip lightly over the slit. The effect is instant, a strained groan rumbles from him and it makes you smile, you love the sounds you can pull from him when he lets himself focus only on what you do to him, without him trying to make you feel good at the same time.

The water makes your hand slide easily up and down his shaft while you take the head into your mouth, tasting the salty drops leaking from him as you make sure your tongue licks over every part of, tracing the ridge and veins, circling the head with warm lips. He bucks into you, his heavy groans louder as your hand closes more tightly around what’s not in your mouth, he’s already close, you can feel him swell and twitch in your mouth. Pulling back a little you glance up at him and see him looking down at you, open mouth and glassy eyes. Like always when he concentrates his tongue rests on his bottom lip, the pink tip peeking out. He’s breathing heavily and his hips start to thrust lightly almost of their own accord. Still looking at him you let him slip out of your mouth and lick a wide stripe from the bottom of his cock, all the way up along the underside, your hand gliding down and gently cupping his balls as your mouth envelops him again, adding pressure, sucking him in between your tight lips.

“Fuck, bebita, please…” he moans, almost a pained expression on his face, “don’t stop, I need your mouth,” he’s kept his hands by his sides, fist clenched, but now he cups your cheeks, caressing your skin as you take more of him, deeper into your mouth, his blunt head nudging against the back of your throat. His moaning is downright filthy, a panted whine as he squeezes his eyes shut. You increase the pressure, tightening your mouth’s firm grip around his slick cock, letting it slide in and out of your mouth as Frankie’s breathing grows erratic.

“Don’t stop,” he groans, “so close, fuck, your mouth, hermosa…”

You breathe in and take him as deep as you can, your nose nudging the wet curls at the base of his cock, you can feel him spasming as you swallow around him, heavy on your tongue. Your mouth tightens around him, sucking firmly along the whole shaft and with a sudden, loud groan he comes, his hips bucking his cock into your throat, making you gag as you breathe through your nose. Hot liquid fills your mouth, dripping out on the sides as you suck him through his climax. He’s moaning above you, incoherent strings of Spanish, filth pouring out until his cock begins to soften in your mouth. You let him slip out, gently wrapping your hand around it and cleaning him off.

“I might pass out,” he mutters, breathing heavily as he tilts his head back, trying to compose himself, “Fuck me, I needed that, cariño.” He opens his eyes as you stand up, placing a soft kiss on his little belly before he can kiss your lips.

“Best wife I’ve ever had,” he mumbles and you giggle against his mouth.

“I know,” you smirk, “thought I’d remind you.”

“Thank you for the reminder,” he smiles back.

…

The next day things in the QZ get worse. As you walk to the radio with Frankie you can hear the new announcement from FEDRA; Going outside the QZ without a permit is now punishable by death. Entering the QZ without a permit is now punishable by death. Bringing in illegal contraband is now punishable by death. Collaborating with the Fireflies is now punishable by death. A special military court will be set up to deal with all violations of these rules

There are soldiers everywhere, check points every few blocks and everyone is on edge. Frankie holds on tightly to your hand, both of you keeping your heads down as you hurry through the streets. Life in the QZ was never easy, but now it feels like a police state, much worse than Arlington when it all blew up. Frankie looks worried when he leaves you but he’s got work in a different sector.

“If I can even get there, so many fucking check points,” he grumbles, looking over his shoulder as another FEDRA truck rumbles past.

“Be careful, come back if it gets too crazy,” you say, reaching up and giving him a kiss.

“I’ll see you soon, cariño,” he gives you another quick kiss before leaving.

He makes his way towards the eastern section, down towards the docks, passing through two check points on the way. It takes time but he’s only a little bit late when he knocks on the usual door. After a minute a window above him opens up and Tess looks down at him, her long auburn hair tied back. Lowering her gun she raises her hand in a wave.

“I’ll be right down.”

“What happened to Georgie?” Frankie asks as Tess lets him in through the locked front door.

“He got caught coming back,” she say with a scowl, “fucking idiot took a wrong turn in the tunnel and popped up right in front of a patrol.”

“They’ve made that punishable by death now,” Frankie says as he follows her into the empty hotel she and Georgie use as a base, “they were announcing it all over the streets when I came over.”

“Yeah, I heard. He was caught a couple of days ago and is still in lock up as far as I know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they hang him.” Tess sighs as she unlocks a door to her makeshift office, a small room tucked away at the end of the building behind signs reading ‘Entry prohibited - Bio-hazard’.

“I hope he makes it, he’s not exactly a good friend but I can trust him and he scares the shit out of people.” She holds the door open for Frankie and he steps into the familiar little space.

“I need a favor from you,” she says as she closes the door behind them, “You know Joel Miller.” It’s a statement not a question and Frankie nods, his hand closed around the stack of ration cards he has in his pocket.

“Since Georgie’s most likely gone, I’m going to need a new partner. Georgie had the connections for bringing in most of what I trade. Some connections I can take over, but most he handled on his own. Can you set up a meeting with him? I know he and his brother have been looking to partner with someone,” Tess opens a small safe, making sure to not show Frankie the combination, and pulls out two small baggies. “You still want oxy and ambien?”

Frankie nods, “Joel really doesn’t trust anyone, you sure you wanna work with him?” He gives Tess his ration cards and she hands him the baggies before she counts the cards.

“From what I hear, he might not trust people, but he won’t sell me out to FEDRA,” she replies, sticking the cards in her back pocket.

“No, he wouldn’t do that, and as long as you know his loyalty is only to himself and Tommy, and you can handle that, he’s good to work with, knows his shit.”

“How come you don’t work with him anymore?” Tess asks, ushering him out of the door again.

“My wife doesn’t want me smuggling anymore, I’m all she’s got,” he says, a twinge of guilt eating at him as they walk back through the hotel, “she’s all I’ve got,” he adds.

If Tess notices his uncomfort, she doesn’t mention it, “Must be nice having someone like that, something like that,” she says, “How long have you been with her?”

“Since before the outbreak,” Frankie replies, “we’d been dating for a year when it happened.”

“You’re lucky, both of you,” Tess opens the front door again, leaning against the frame after Frankie’s passed through it. “Both of you still alive, together, must be nice,” she says again and there’s something she’s not saying, Frankie recognizes the undertone of grief in her voice, and he nods.

“Yeah, we’ve been lucky, but we’ve lost people too,” he’s got his hands in his pocket, his fingers closing around the pills in the bags. “If I can introduce you to Joel, what’s in it for me?” he asks and Tess raises her eyebrows. She’s surprised it took him so long to ask.

“Discounts,” she smirks, motioning with her hand to his pocket.

Frankie nods and starts leaving, “I’ll talk to Joel, see if he wants to meet with you.”

“Thanks Frankie,” Tess gives him a wave as he walks away.

…

It doesn’t take Frankie long to get hold of Joel and tell him about Tess but the situation in the QZ deteriorates and plans are put on hold. The Fireflies attack the checkpoint into the sector where you live the day after he meets with Tess and for a few days it’s impossible to leave. You can’t get to the radio or to Will and Benny’s places, there are soldiers everywhere and all there is to do is to stay inside and lay low. You’re both starting to get worried about the situation in the QZ.

“I don’t know where we’d go, but I think we should make an emergency exit plan,” Frankie says one day. “A plan to quickly get out of here if things go bad.”

You nod, looking down at the street through the window. There’s another patrol going down the street, heavily armed. There’s no curfew during the days, you were free to go outside. But as you watch the patrol stop two women walking down the street, searching their clothes and bags, it’s clear FEDRA isn’t letting anyone walk the street in peace right now.

Frankie comes up behind you, leaning his head on your shoulder as he puts his arms around your waist.

“I’ll talk to the guys, see what we can do. We hid a working car just outside the wall, that’ll get us away from Boston at least.”

“All seven of us?” you ask, looking back at him. He sighs and shakes his head.

“No, all seven of us won’t fit, but we’ll figure something out.”

“Maybe we should just try to find some abandoned farm somewhere remote, live away from everyone else,” you say, leaning back so that you can feel his solid chest behind your back, “just risk it out there rather than in here with FEDRA, it just keeps getting worse and more and more oppressive.”

“Maybe the Fireflies will be successful,” Frankie mumbles, watching the patrol disappear around a corner, “turn things around.”

“You really think so?” you ask, he can hear the doubt in your voice.

“No, not really,” he sighs, “but I like your farm idea, fuck everyone else, just you and me.”

“It’s always just you and me, Frankie, even here. The others are like family but not like you, not the way you’re my family.”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck as he tightens his grip on you, you can feel his warm breath on your skin. He doesn’t say anything so you just stand there while he breathes in your scent, memorizing it, as if he wouldn’t recognize it anywhere already.

…

The morning the checkpoint reopens he leaves before you’re out of bed, gently dropping a kiss on your cheek while he rouses you, sitting on the bed.

“I need to see Miguel about some spare parts, the clinic needs to fix some medical equipment,” he mumbles, his lips close to your skin while you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He chuckles and untangles himself, “I’ve got to go, cariño, I’ll see you this afternoon, I’ll come pick you up at the radio.”

He makes his way through the checkpoint and over to Joel’s place. Tommy’s already there and Frankie leads them to the meeting spot he’d agreed on with Tess before the check point was bombed, hoping she’ll come back at the same time. Appointments were often postponed or interrupted in the QZ so there was a habit of just turning up at the same place, same time a couple days in a row and hoping for the best if you didn’t hear from the other person.

Tess is there, waiting, when the two Miller brothers and Frankie scramble up to the second floor of a partially bombed building. Joel grumbles about having to ‘drag and climb a fuckin’ dumpster’ but stands up straight and gives Tess a once over when she pushes herself off the dilapidated office desk she was leaning against.

“This is Tess Servopoulos,” Frankie says, “Joel and Tommy Miller,” he points at each man.

“Nice to meet you, Tess,” Tommy says, holding out his hand to her and she takes it with a smile.

“Same, your reputation precedes you,” she replies, holding out her hand to Joel too, who accepts it and gives her hand a firm shake.

“Only a good reputation, I hope,” Tommy chuckles, easing the tension in the meeting, although Joel still stands rigid, putting his hands into his jeans pockets after shaking her hand.

“Frankie says you’re reliable and know your shit,” Tess says, eyeing Joel's silent form like she’s trying to gauge him. She knows he’s the one she has to convince and he’s doing his best to look as standoffish as possible.

“We’ve been smuggling pretty much since the outbreak,” Tommy replies, “been in Boston for about five years now.”

Tess nods, “I’ve been working with Georgie for about six years, here and there, but he got caught by FEDRA last week.”

“Yeah, Frankie told us, bad luck,” Tommy nods but Joel scoffs.

“Bad luck…he got sloppy, if that’s the kind of operation you run, we’re not interested, darlin’,” he says and Tess narrows her eyes at him, opening her mouth but closes it again, biting back whatever retort was on her mind.

She turns to Tommy instead, “I know you used to work with a few other guys, why are you looking for a new partner?”

“Our cousins have a thing about not smuggling drugs,” Joel replies, cutting Tommy off, “that a problem for you?”

“Smuggling ‘em? Not at all,” Tess says, glancing at Frankie and he does his best to not look at Joel. When Joel asked how Frankie knew Tess he said he’d traded with her for spare parts for the radio. It was true, he had traded with her for parts, but only once.

Joel looks at Frankie, connecting the dots, as Tommy gives Tess a rough outline of how they usually operate, what they can get their hands on.

“You ok with that, Frankie?” Joel asks him, “Tess trading drugs? You got a handle on it?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” Frankie looks up at Joel and wills himself to keep his eyes steady on the older man, “it’s fine.”

Joel gives him a slow nod, “Ok, as long as you’re fine with it.”

But Tess frowns and looks at Joel, “What do you mean?” she asks, eyeing him, “Why would Frankie have any problems with me trading drugs? He buys them from me.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows at this piece of information and looks at Frankie who tries to square his shoulders and look like he’s in control.

“They’re worried I’ll get addicted,” he says, “I got pretty bad PTSD after I left the army and when shit gets too dark here, it comes back,” he shrugs, feigning a casual attitude he doesn’t feel, “but I just need the shit to sleep, the nightmares never really went away and the pills help with that, that’s all.”

He knows he’s not telling the whole truth and Joel certainly knows that, but Frankie meets his eyes and refuses to look away, willing the man to understand that he’s got it under control.

Tess gives him a hard stare as Frankie tugs on his ball cap and crosses his arms. “Ok, as long as you’ve got a handle on it, I don’t have any issues, I’m not your moral compass, we all do what we need to do to get by. And from what I hear, you guys sell drugs too?,” she looks over at Joel who nods.

“Yeah, but I stopped selling to Frankie a while back, and we stopped working together, what we did triggered his PTSD.”

“I’ve got it under control now,” Frankie says, he can feel the familiar panic creeping through his nerves. If Joel tells Tess to cut him off he has nowhere else to go. “Since I stopped with the smuggling I’m fine, it’s just the nightmares that give me insomnia, I just need the drugs to help me sleep on nights when it gets bad. But it’s less now, hardly ever.” He’s lying through his teeth, trying to keep his voice steady and his poker face on, but he’s not sure he manages.

“I don’t give a fuck, Frankie,” Joel says, “I’m not selling to you, mainly out of respect for your wife and Will and Benny. But like she said, I ain’t your moral compass.” He turns to Tess again, “Either way, that doesn’t affect our potential partnership. Since Frankie trusts you, maybe this can work, but I need to talk to my brother in private first. We’ll let you know in a couple of days.”

Tess nods and shakes both Joel and Tommy’s hands before the two men leave. Frankie and Tess follow after them, jumping down onto the dumpster.

“Your wife’s not gonna come after me for supplying drugs to you, is she?” Tess asks as they reach the ground.

“No,” he shakes his head, starting to walk away.

“She doesn’t know, does she?” Tess has crossed her arms over her chest and is giving him another hard stare.

“She does, she knows I take them to sleep,” Frankie tugs on his cap again, he knows it’s a nervous gesture and Tess just shakes her head.

“You’re a shit liar, Frankie,” she says as she gives him another hard look, “Just keep it under control, ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s under control:” He raises his hand and gives her a wave, “I’ll see you around, I’ve got to get going.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around, Frankie.”

…

Despite Joel’s mistrusting nature, he agrees to start working with Tess, on a trial basis. Frankie finds out a few days later when he asks Tess for an actual spare part for the clinic.

“Joel’s a piece of work, but I prefer that to someone who throws his trust at anyone, that’ll get you killed,” she says, taking the ration cards the clinic had given him in exchange for a pristine looking piece of equipment. Frankie doesn’t know what it does exactly but he knows the one in the machine is broken and he’ll fix it somehow.

“Joel knows his shit,” Frankie says, tucking the equipment into his backpack, walking back through the hotel with Tess. “Thanks for the part, Diana will be happy, the machine is important to them.”

“Sure, let me know if you need anything else.” She gives him a wave as he leaves.

When he meets up with the rest of the guys later at the bar he tells them about Joel’s new partner.

“I’m surprised Joel’s prepared to work with someone else,” Benny leans back on the couch and kicks out his long legs, “Tommy says he’s turned down both Miguel and that guy Robert.”

“It’s a smart move,” Will replies, “FEDRA is all over the place, he’s gonna need an extra pair of eyes for any bigger trades. We’re gonna need to be real careful too, it’s no longer just a few nights in FEDRA lock up. They’re actually going through with fucking executions.”

“As if dealing with raiders and infected wasn’t bad enough, now FEDRA wants to kill us too?” Benny huffs, “Half the stuff we bring in goes to soldiers, for fucks sake…”

Pope nods and takes a sip of the bar’s homemade whiskey, grimacing at the taste, “They were setting up for a hanging when I came over, three guys caught in condemned buildings. If FEDRA’s already suspecting us like your girl said, Frankie, then we should probably lay low for a few weeks. We’ve got the supplies we need for now.”

“What about the trade we have planned, we’ve got stuff coming in from Worcester, that deal Will and I set up? We’re gonna need to receive it and get it stashed as soon as it comes in.” Benny looks over at the others.

For years their best contact had been a FEDRA soldier in the QZ, and through him Benny and Will had made a connection with a FEDRA officer in the Worcester QZ, the man’s brother in law. It had taken months but a convoy of FEDRA trucks were due to come over from Worcester, together with the officer and a number of much needed supplies hidden among the official FEDRA shipments. Thanks to Boston being a much bigger QZ the guys had been able to offer him a large stack of ration cards in exchange for a number of in demand items.

Pope nods at Benny, “Yeah, we have to handle that one, we won't be able to postpone it.” He glances over at Frankie, “I hate to ask, hermano…” he says, “but we could really use your help, just as a look out, for that trade now. You think you’re ok to do it? I hate to say it, but you still look like shit.”

Frankie shrugs, “I still don’t sleep great, the nightmares are a bitch, but yeah of course, if you need me, I can do it.”

“Are you sure, Frankie?” Will asks, “I don’t want you doing this if you don’t feel ok, we’re not risking your recovery for this. The three of us will just do it as usual.”

“If you need me, man, I can do it. And it’s just as a lookout right? That’s just keeping an eye on things, making sure no FEDRA patrols are around?”

“Yeah, we’ve set up a lookout point near the location and we got some radios. All you’d need to do is sit there and radio me if anything happens.” Pope says, glancing over at Will who nods.

“Talk to your wife first though, we don’t want to cause any family drama here, make sure she’s onboard with it and thinks you're ok to do it.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her tonight, I’ll let you guys know tomorrow,” Frankie says, putting down his glass and getting ready to leave. “I’m picking her up from the radio office in a little bit. What day is this happening?”

“Thursday,” Pope says, “I’ll come by tomorrow and we’ll talk it through.”

“Ok, yeah, I’ll talk to her, but I feel good, I can do that, I wanna help you guys anyway I can,”

“Appreciate it, man,” Benny says, Frankie drops his hand on the younger man’s shoulder as he’s leaving and Benny gives it a quick squeeze, looking up at Frankie. “It’s good to know you’re doing better, Fish.”

Frankie gives him a crooked smile and a wave to the other two and heads out the door of the bar.

…

Frankie’s waiting outside the radio when you step outside, Sean’s taken over the radio for the evening and you’re stretching out your back after a long shift hunched over the dials and notebooks. You see him before he sees you, leaning against a barrier on the other side of the street, watching a group of children playing on a makeshift playground in a small park. They’ve all got the rough looking hand me downs the orphan children of the local FEDRA school wears and there’s two elderly ladies in FEDRA uniforms keeping an eye on them.

Frankie looks tired, dark circles under his eyes and his ordinarily tan skin is ashen and gray. His curls are still brown but his scruffy beard is mostly silver now, as you watch his hand comes up and absentmindedly rubs across his jaw, scratching at the short hairs. You’d spent some time last night giving his beard and hair a trim, giggling as he wriggled his nose when the hairs tickled him. Sometimes he was back to his normal self, relaxed and soft around you, sleeping better without nightmares, even cracking jokes and messing with Benny when you met up with the others. But you could see that he was struggling still, the good nights were far apart and most mornings he moved like a sleepwalker, taking time to come back to life. In the evenings he stumbled to bed and was fast asleep as soon as he’d curled himself around you, sometimes the nightmares would plague him but he couldn’t wake up, you’d shake him and he’d be trapped in his nightmare. When you finally managed to rouse him he’d be disoriented and panicky until he fell asleep again, almost instantly.

Now you walk across the street as he watches the kids take turns on the makeshift tire swing. You know which one of the children he’s looking at; a young girl, about five, with the same dark curls as Lucía. She’s hanging on to the swing, shrieking with laughter as another girl spins the tire around, her hair whirling around her head as she throws it back and giggles.

“Hey Frankie,” you say as you come up to him, he turns around as you sneak your arms around his waist, pulling him out of his silent reverie.

“Hey cariño,” he says, giving you a kiss before turning back to the park. The girl had gotten off the swing and was running towards the slide. “She reminds me of Lucía,” he mumbles, glancing over at you, “makes me wonder what she’d look like now.” You give his waist an extra squeeze as you watch the girl shoot down the slide and run around to climb back up to the top.

“She’d be fifteen now, too old for playgrounds,” he gives a small smile, “although, I don’t think she’d ever get too old for swings, she loved them.”

The little girl has climbed to the top of the slide for a third time and is standing up, waving at someone.

“Come here! Ellie, come on the slide with me!” she calls, waving her arm and a younger girl hurries across from the swings and climbs the stairs, her short legs struggling with the big steps. The older girl instructs the younger to sit down in front, and together they slide down, their high pitched giggles carrying in the clear spring air. It makes your heart clench, the sound and the image so normal, reminding you of the times you’d been at the playground with Frankie and Lucía.

“C’mon, we should get moving,” Frankie says, pulling his eyes away from the dark haired girl as he takes your hand. His mood is subdued on the way back to the apartment. You tell him about your day and he hooks his arm around your shoulder, listening as you walk through the crowds. But he remains silent, lost in his own thoughts when you stop talking. When you get back home he toes off his shoes and goes to stand in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed as you fill a pot of water.

“Joel and Tommy are gonna partner up with a woman called Tess,” he says after a while, breaking the silence. “Tess has been helping me get spare parts for the clinic and she asked if I’d introduce her to them.”

You look over at him, you can hear from the tone of his voice that he’s not done. And he confirms it as he drops his gaze, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“Pope and the guys asked if I could help them out on a trade, as a lookout, but they wanted me to talk to you first, make sure you’re ok with it.”

“Tell me about it,” you say, turning to lean on the counter as he comes over and stands next to you.

“They’ve got a connection with this guy in Worcester, he’s bringing in supplies on a FEDRA truck, as part of a bigger convoy. They need me to be the lookout when they meet the men inside the QZ. I won’t go outside and I won’t be near the actual trade, just be the lookout.”

“Do you feel ok about it?” you ask and Frankie nods.

“Yeah, I wanna help them with this,” he says, turning a bit so that he can look at you. “FEDRA is patrolling more and they need me to warn them if there’s a patrol approaching.”

“Your nightmares are still really bad though, and sometimes I can’t even wake you up from them, Frankie. If something happens, is it gonna trigger you even more?”

“If something happens and I’m not there to keep watch, that’s gonna be even worse,” Frankie shakes his head, “They need my help with this. Once they’re done with this they’re gonna lie low, FEDRA’s hanging people over the smallest charge now, but this trade is too big and they can’t postpone it.”

“And you’ll only be lookout, away from the actual trade?” you question and Frankie nods again.

“They have a lookout point nearby, I’ll have a radio and just contact Santi if something happens, that’s it.”

You lean against the counter while Frankie looks at you, waiting for your answer, for your approval. It makes you realize that he hasn’t done that before, let you make the decision. He’s told you about the plans, listened to your opinion and adjusted the plans and made changes so that you would be more comfortable about letting him go. This time, when what he’s been asked to do really doesn’t seem all that dangerous by comparison, he’s leaving the whole decision up to you.

“Ok, if you think you’re ready for it, I trust you Frankie, you should help them.”

“I do, I feel strong enough to do this, thank you cariño,” he steps in front of you and grabs your thighs, hoisting you up onto the counter so that he's standing between your legs. It makes you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands find your hips, kneading the soft flesh under his fingers.

“When is it?”

“Thursday…was your skin always this soft here?” he’s running his nose down your neck, pulling back the scruff of your hoodie and burying it just above your clavicle.

“You’re distracting me, Frankie, I had more questions,” you laugh, his tongue comes out and licks a warm strip across the ridge of the bone.

“I know, that’s the point,” he mumbles against your skin.

“Much as I love this horny version of you, you should try and get as much sleep as possible until Thursday, I know how tired you are.”

“Take me to bed then,” he chuckles, still buried against the crook of your neck, leaving a burning trail of nips and kisses up your throat.

“We haven’t even had dinner,” you laugh as he tries to make you hook your legs around his waist so that he can pick you up, “Let me make dinner and then I’ll take you to bed for dessert.”

“My favorite kind of dessert,” he smiles, pulling back from your neck to kiss your mouth, making you part your lips for his tongue.

“Why don’t you take a nap on the couch while I make dinner, Frankie,” you say when he starts working his way back down along your jaw, “because at this rate, we’re never getting dinner,” you have to giggle when he starts pushing up your shirt, his warm hands palming over your back.

“Too horny to take a nap now,” he chuckles, but he stands up and lets you slip off the counter. And when you start pulling out ingredients he gives your butt a final squeeze and does go to the couch. It doesn’t take long before you hear his soft snores, when you look over he’s face planted on the couch, one arm dangling off it, the other under his head as a pillow.

…

The trade is set up to take place after dark, and after curfew. Sunset in May in Boston is late so Frankie and the guys make their way to the meeting spot well before the curfew comes into effect and bunker down to wait for darkness. In an off limits building, an old office building near the QZ wall, Pope, Will and Benny have set up a secluded spot for the trade. Now the four of them are in the building across the small square, up on the fifth floor, inside a spacious apartment with a bird’s eye view of the neighborhood, the lookout point.

The sun is slowly sinking below the horizon while they wait for the agreed upon hour. Benny’s brought an old battered pack of playing cards and they’re killing time by playing rounds of poker. Frankie curses when he loses yet another game, thankful they’re only playing for the silver cutlery Pope found in the apartment's kitchen. The utensils clink as Will drags them across the dining room table after winning his seventh game.

“Fuck, Will, teach me your ways,” Frankie grumbles, he’s down to two spoons and one knife.

“Skill, Catfish,” Will chuckles, sorting his cutlery into neat piles, “And years of counting numbers.”

“I just keep getting shit cards,” Benny mutters, tossing his losing hand onto the table with a snap of his wrist, making them scatter. “Your turn to deal, Pope.”

Pope gathers the cards and quickly deals again, “I’m winning those spoons back, Will, just so you know.”

“Whatever you say, man, you’re happy to try,” Will chuckles, straightening out the six large spoons he’s got neatly lined up along his eight knives and eight forks. “Just need to get Frankie’s two spoons and I’ve got a full set.”

After two more rounds, Frankie kicks back his chair and throws his arms up in defeat, “I’m fucking bust.”

“It’s alright, Fish, Diana and I will be thinking about you when we have dinner tomorrow,” Will smirks, sliding the spoons over to his side of the table.

Pope looks at his watch and out at the dark night sky, “We should get going, scout the area again and position ourselves.”

Benny gathers the cards and they all pack up. Frankie makes his way out to the large balcony wrapped around the corner of the building and scans the square and the surrounding streets.

“All’s quiet out there,” he says in a hushed voice as he comes back in. Pope grabs his radio and turns it to the pre-agreed frequency and tests the connection.

“I’ll radio you when we’re in position, make sure the connection is clear,” he says, clipping it onto his belt as Frankie does the same with his radio. “And don’t forget our contact is going to signal you when they cross the square.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s all under control,” he nods, waiting while the three men pick up the equipment they’d put by the front door when they came in. Even though it was a trade, old habits die hard, and they all had concealed handguns and backpacks with extra gear. Frankie secures his own gun at the back of his pants and triple checks the battery on the radio before picking up a battered pair of binoculars.

“Alright, ready to go?” Will asks and the other two nods. “Radio us if there’s anything irregular, Catfish.”

“Stay safe, I’ll see you at the rendezvous soon.”

Frankie locks up behind the guys as they leave the apartment and hunkers down on the balcony. He’s dragged out some of the less damaged couch pillows and propped them up along the railing and floor, making a nest where he’s hidden from sight. Through a small opening he can scan the streets below, laying flat on his belly with the binoculars in front of him. His nerves are making him jumpy, he’s not used to being without the sleeping pills this long, and it adds an extra layer of stress to the usual laser focus he has during a mission. Even though he’s ‘just’ the lookout he feels the familiar tingling in his spine as he scans the street.

The radio crackles to life on his belt and Pope’s voice comes through; “Catfish, we’re in position. Do you copy, over?”

“Loud and clear, Pope. I’m in position, over.”

“Maintain radio silence unless necessary, over.”

“Wilco, out.”

He clips the radio back on to his belt and settles down. There’s still about thirty minutes left before the other party is due to turn up, but both Will and Pope like having plenty of margins to work with. He glances at his watch and calculates in his head how long it would take for one of the oxy tablets to kick in. He needs something to sooth his nerves, it’s like he can feel every seam and stitch on every piece of clothing he’s wearing, scratching and grating against his overheated skin. Even his hair is itching where it curls over his ears and he swipes off his cap and pushes it back. Just one oxy, to take the edge off, let him focus while he waits.

He swallows it dry, almost regretting it as the bitter flavor coats the inside of his mouth. But soon he feels the effect, his body goes loose, the scratching stops. He watches two men hurry across the square, stopping to give a one handed wave three times up towards Frankie’s balcony. The trade is underway, he leans back against the wall.

It’s so quiet up here. The QZ is always so noisy, so many people in such a small space, up here he can’t hear anything, it’s so peaceful.

All the people are gone. It’s only him. Up here.

And these pillows are so soft, they feel like clouds against his face.

Only him high up in the sky with no noise.

Just soft pillows and soft clothes and darkness behind his eyelids.

Chapter 33

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

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fayes-fics · 2 years

Text

Moments: Chapters 7-8

Moments Masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Slow-burn fic. Follow on to No Good Advice probably best to read that first. Read previous chapters of this fic here and here. In these chapters, James & his mum meet the Bridgerton family and Benedict makes a decision.

Word Count: 4.3k (these chapters only, 12.2k total for all chapters to date)

Warnings: none really - pining, fluff, humour, touch of angst. Ratings/warnings will increase in future chapters.

Authors note: I hope you all enjoy the latest adventures of little James Darby. Thanks as ever to @makaylan for her fantastic betaing and advice. Couldn't do this without you lady <3

Chapter 7: Moments from a family visit

Your carriage pulls up the long drive to Aubrey Hall, and your heart leaps. What a beautiful building, resplendent in flowers and vines. James leans forward excitedly, huffing mist onto the glass as he peers at the approaching house.

“Is this where Benedict lives?” he asks excitedly.

“It's his family's country home, darling, like Darby Hall is our family home. But it is not his; I believe he has his own cottage. Just like we do.”

“Oh, ok,” he nods, understanding better. “Can we see his cottage? I bet he has so many paints! Oh, mama, please? Can we? Can we?”

You huff a laugh. “Darling, I don't think his cottage is that near to here; I believe it is down in Wiltshire. This is Kent - that is a long way away.”

“Oh,” he looks a little deflated.

“But I'm sure Benedict has plenty of painting supplies right here,” you add, seeing James instantly brighten at that. “You like Mr Bridgerton, don't you?” you venture, a little trepidatious.

“He likes painting as much as me, so he is my favourite person ever,” James smiles gleefully as if that is the full measure of a man. “Except you, Mama,” he adds as a charming afterthought. The adorable little rascal.

“What would you say if I told you he wanted to spend more time with you?” you ask carefully, “not just painting,” you add as James goes to speak.

His mien turns thoughtful. “Why would I spend time with him other than to paint Mama?” he asks - a perfectly reasonable question.

“He is a… very special friend to me, from a long time ago. And a friend of mine must be a friend of yours too, James.” you reason. “Or the… friendship… cannot be.”

“He is very nice, Mama,” he says, looking far away. “Issy told me about him in a dream.”

“Who is Issy, my love?” you ask, wracking your brain for someone with that name.

“You haven't met her yet, Mama,” he says breezily.

You can't think of a single person he knows you have not met, so you just assume it's one of his imaginary friends. He has such a rich imagination you marvel at him sometimes - every day, raising this child is a new adventure.

Your carriage pulling to a halt outside the main entrance has your mind turning to your hosts. Butterflies roar as you see the entire Bridgerton family emerge from the doorway. Chief amongst them, Benedict. He is all you can see as the footman opens the carriage and holds out an expectant hand for you to descend. The urge to run and fling yourself into his arms alarms you - a person of comfort in a sea of mostly new, expectant faces.

“Lady Darby,” Violet greets warmly as you step out.

“Lady Bridgerton,” you reply, “thank you so much for inviting me early to spend time at your beautiful family home.”

“Please call me Violet,” she says.

“Then it's y/n, for everyone,” you insist, looking around politely.

Anthony steps forward with his beautiful wife “Apologies, my lord.” you correct yourself. “This is actually your home as the Viscount, isn't it?”

“Indeed, but my mother has always been best at leading introductions,” he smiles warmly. “Lady Darby, this is my wife, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

“Oh, it's been years, and I'm still not used to that title,” she says with a slight comic frown, “Please call me Kate.” warmly shaking your hand.

You see out of the corner of your eye Benedict is hovering expectantly, almost shyly, off to the side, slightly behind them.

James comes leaping out of the carriage behind you. “Benedict!” he cries happily and practically launches himself at the man. On instinct, Benedict crouches down to hug James.

That is rather a conversation stopper as everyone’s eyes crane to watch the young boy.

“That… is my son, James,” you say apologetically, “he has umm, been receiving art lessons from Mr Bridgerton,” you offer by way of explanation.

Violet has an enigmatic smile as she tears her sights away from James and back to you.

“He is a talented artist?” she inquires politely, but you feel there may be more to her question.

“Well, he is only five years old….” you begin.

“He's a master in the making,” Benedict finds his voice, “aren’t you, James?”

James nods happily, holding onto Benedict’s leg as he straightens back to standing.

You feel everyone looking at you, James, Benedict and back. A lot of thoughts behind silent eyes.

“Shall we head inside?” Violet announces. “You can meet everyone else later. I'm sure it's been a long journey from London, and you would like to freshen up and rest before dinner.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you reply, reaching your hand for James, making brief but meaningful eye contact with Benedict. He gives you a reassuring nod and smile.

“Come here, James,” you call gently when he doesn't move.

“I’d like to stay with Benedict,” James announces, grabbing his arm. “Mama said you might have some paint here,” he looks up hopefully.

Benedict huffs a laugh. “Maybe later, James, go with your mummy for now. I will see you at dinner, okay?”

James looks ponderous and then agrees reluctantly, “Okay.”

“What a delightful child,” Kate murmurs as you ascend the staircase into the house, “he has very striking eyes,” she adds a little too pointedly, with a smile you know has more meaning.

You know. You just know she has already figured this out; she seems too fiercely intelligent not to have.

“Thank you” is all you can say.

This is Benedict’s announcement to make to his family if he chooses to. You wouldn't blame him if he didn't; they seem quite a formidable bunch, friendly but rambunctious when gathered together. What a day this could prove to be.

___

By the time you appear for dinner, you are refreshed and ready to face what could be a gauntlet. No doubt there have been precious few other topics of conversation, but the young widow with the little boy who ran straight to Benedict.

“Lady Darby,” Violet gestures, “you and James are sat down here with me”. You take your seats and realise Benedict is opposite you, next to his mother. His eyes meet yours over the table, and he smiles.

You itch to ask him what his plan is for this dinner. You really don’t want him admitting to being James’ father while he is in earshot.

You are introduced to the remainder of the family around the dinner table, minus Daphne and her husband and child, who you’re told will arrive the following day.

Conversation flows spiritedly as appetisers are served. It’s unusual that all the children, including Kate and Anthony’s eldest son, who is three, are also at the table, but you’re glad James can join in. Experience what it’s like to be a part of a social evening. It’s been just the two of you for so long that you’re worried he will become anxious around other people. Luckily he seems unphased and engaged with everyone. Like his father, he can have an easy-going natural charm when he wants to. He has Eloise and Kate wrapped around his little fingers in no time.

“Benedict, can we paint tomorrow?” James calls out across the table as dessert is served. The conversation seems to quieten suddenly.

“If it’s okay with your mummy, yes, I think so, James,” Benedict answers, “if the weather is good, perhaps we can paint outside again.”

“That would be so nice!” James chimes, “I really like the easel you gave me. I’ve painted so many things with it.”

“You bought James an easel, my love?” Violet inquires gently, touching Benedict’s wrist, “Do you do that for all of your art students?”

“No, mother, just the very talented ones,” he replies, attempting nonchalance but coming out somewhat awkwardly.

Violet hums and takes a bite of dessert, then turns to your son.

“Tell me, little James, do you collect anything? Perhaps, oh, I don’t know, pressed flowers or something like that?” She glances briefly at Benedict as she asks.

“Yes!” James chimes, “I collect rocks! From places I visit, or when I see one in a pretty colour.”

“That’s fascinating!” Violet enthuses.

You look over and see Benedict staring at James open-mouthed. You'd neglected to mention that little inheritance. Frankly, there are so many similarities you almost wouldn't know where to begin.

“And what a coincidence! My lovely second son here used to do the exact same thing as a child, didn’t you, darling?” she pats Benedict’s hand affectionately but pointedly.

“He still does,” it has slipped out of your mouth over your wineglass before you’ve even engaged a thought.

Oh shit.

It’s hushed around the table now. Benedict's shocked look swaps from your son to you.

Your cheeks burn hot, “…or that’s what he told me,” you mumble mortified, putting down your glass to stab at your dessert. Too little, too late.

You can feel Violet’s eyes on you. An enigmatic smile.

“Benedict, dear, is there anything you wish to share with us?” Violet asks, feigning innocence.

“Perhaps later, mother,” he responds with a pleading look, glancing at James briefly and then back to her.

She pats his hand and smiles, then addresses the whole table. “Come on, eat up, my dears. This delicious gooseberry pie won’t finish itself!”

The buzz of conversation picks up again, and Benedict shoots you a look. You mouth ‘sorry’. This wasn't how you wanted things to go. You decide you have probably had enough wine for the night.

“Benedict, can I see your rock collection, please?” James pipes up as he cleans his plate.

“Yes, James, but sadly, it’s not here,” Benedict explains.

“Is it in Wiltshire? Mummy says that’s where your cottage is. We have a little cottage too, and it’s my most favourite house we own. When can we visit your cottage?”

You almost drop your spoon. If it was quiet before when they conversed, it’s silent now.

“James, it’s rude to ask for an invitation to someone’s house,” you admonish tacitly.

“No, not at all. Of course, you are most welcome. You can accompany me to Wiltshire next time I go,” Benedict nods, “I shall invite some other students of mine, make it an artists retreat, as such” you can tell he is covering his tracks a little.

“Fun!” James exclaims.

Benedict clears his throat as dessert gets cleared away and after-dinner chocolates are placed on the table. “Everyone, I would like to make an announcement later in the drawing room. For just the adults.”

“What? why?” Hyacinth whines, “Why do we always miss out on the best information? I am fifteen now, brother.”

“Yes, and I am sixteen,” pipes up Gregory.

“I'm sorry, are either of those numbers higher than eighteen?” Benedict queries sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at them.

They both groan and cross their arms defensively.

“I'm five,” James announces proudly to the room, half understanding the game but enthusiastic about being included.

Everyone peals with friendly laughter, and Colin leans over and ruffles his hair affectionately. “Indeed you are, James.”

James' nanny comes to collect him and take him to bed, just as you all spill into the hallway on your way to the drawing room.

“Goodnight, everybody,” James calls, the little charmer he is.

There is a chorus of goodnight Jameses’. He takes his nanny’s hand, but sudden runs back and hugs you, throwing his hands around your waist.

“Aww, goodnight, my love,” you whisper lovingly, swaying him a little.

“Goodnight, Mummy,” he looks up at you with his big beautiful eyes, so you lean down and kiss his cheek.

Then he runs straight over to Benedict and hugs his legs.

“Goodnight, Benedict,” his little voice says.

A universe of emotions crosses Benedict’s face, and everyone else freezes in place.

“Goodnight, James,” Benedict replies quietly, patting his hair.

“Can I have a kiss on the cheek, like the other day?” James asks sweetly.

Benedict’s cheeks dust an adorable shade of pink. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eloise's mouth drop open.

To your utter astonishment, Benedict leans down and hauls James into his arms, placing him on his hip. “It's time for bed, young man,” he lectures softly, then kisses his cheek as requested. “Now, do you need a bedtime story, or will you be able to read one yourself?”

The two of them together are your whole focus. You watch them clutching your chest, not even noticing the eye tennis of the rest of the gathering.

“I can read all by myself,” James answers proudly, looping his arms around Benedict's neck.

“Well, that's because you are such a smart boy, aren't you?”

“Yes. Mummy says I get my brain from her,” James replies, and Benedict laughs.

“I don't doubt it for a second.”

“She says I get my charm from my Daddy,” he adds with a winning smile.

Benedict looks over James' shoulder at you, and your cheeks burn. “I bet she did,” he chuckles.

You feel Violet looking at you again.

‘I'll join you all shortly,” Benedict says over his shoulder, giving you a lingering glance, then starts to walk away towards the staircase, James still in his arms. The two of them engaged in a quiet conversation, your nanny following behind them.

“I don't think this announcement he has to make will be much of a surprise, do you?” Colin pipes up cheekily once they are out of earshot.

You'd like the ground to swallow you up right now.

“Colin!” Violet admonishes, “whatever Benedict has to say to us all, his family, will be treated with the utmost respect and sincerity.”

“Yes, mother,” he grumbles dutifully, with an eye-roll.

As everyone drifts into the drawing room, Kate comes over and loops arms. “Pay no mind to my brother-in-law,” she counsels, “You'll get used to him. If you marry a Bridgerton, you’ll have to; they’re sort of a package deal,” she winks.

It's only after you sit down do you realise what she said.

___

Benedict slips into the drawing room about five minutes later and crouches down behind the chair you are seated in as you listen to Eloise rhapsodise about the book she is currently reading.

“I hardly think it’s going to be a surprise now, but I am going to announce James as my child,” he whispers, “I would like you to stand with me if that's alright?”

“Really,” you murmur, “why?”

“Moral support?” he shrugs, and you see a slight tinge of anxiety on his face for the first time.

“Of course,” you offer.

He moves to stand next to your chair and offers his arm. He walks you in front of the fireplace; you feel the literal heat on the back of your legs as you prepare for heated glances from the gathered family.

“Everyone,” he annunciated clearly, “I would like to announce to the family some important news.”

“When’s the big day?” Colin teases. Eloise violently tosses a cushion at him.

“Oh... no… it's not… that” Benedict suddenly looks flustered and drops his arm from yours. You lower your head. Nothing could be further from the reality at the moment, much to your chagrin.

“Tell us then, brother,” Anthony prompts, acting very much the patriarch.

“You all met James earlier, and well, although this can never be public knowledge, I very much wanted you all, my family, to know that… he is my son” his voice wavers a little. “Many of you may remember about six years ago I was… in a relationship with Mrs Darby before she got married to the man she was promised to her whole life,” he rushes to add, “and that resulted in, well, little James.”

He looks over at his mother.

“Mother, I know this is not the ideal way you would want to hear about another grandchild, who is already five years old, but well, I wanted to be truthful with you. And with you all,” he gestures around the room, “I only just met him myself a few days ago, but he is very important to me.”

Your eyes mist as he speaks plainly but passionately about your son. His son.

“Benedict dear, I am so very happy for you. And another grandson, I am overjoyed, and I look forward to spending so much time getting to know him this week. But, you do realise, this is not exactly the news we were expecting you to announce?” she says gently.

“Whyever not?”Benedict looks shocked.

“Darling, the minute he stepped out of that carriage, I knew. We all knew,” she explains slowly. She gestures at a row of miniatures on the wall depicting all the Bridgerton children. “Do you really think the spitting image of you would not be a total giveaway?”

You are instantly drawn closer to the picture; it looks so much like James you are speechless.

“This is Benedict?” you gasp.

“Yes, dear, aged seven,” she confirms as you run your fingers reverentially over the miniature painting. He has the same hair, eyes, and face; it's disconcerting how much James looks exactly like his father at a similar age.

“We honestly thought you knew that we knew already. And certainly wouldn't feel the need to announce it so formally,” she chuckles, “Kate and I had already discussed buying him some family blue outfits.”

You steal a glance at Kate, who just smiles and shrugs a shoulder.

“Wait?” Anthony says, standing, “You all knew?”

All the women in the room nod.

“I didn't,” Colin opines from the couch. “Well, not until he put the little whelp to bed, then I couldn't exactly unsee it.”

“I had no idea,” Anthony remarks, frowning to himself and then looking pointedly at his wife. Her smirk gets even bigger.

“What a surprise, always the men who are the last to cotton on,” Eloise mutters, rolling her eyes.

Anthony shoots her a look and then clamps his hand onto Benedict's shoulder. “Well, maybe not traditional circumstances, but I’m happy for you, brother. Welcome to fatherhood.”

“Thank you, brother,” Benedict exhales, looking relieved.

“So... no other news?” Violet inquires.

“No, mother,” Benedict says brusquely and a little too pointedly.

“Hmm, shame,” she mutters under her breath and smiles indulgently at you.

A little while later, you see Violet take Benedict's arm and whisper something in his ear. You have no idea what, but it looks like he is getting a stern but loving motherly lecture.

When she is done, he looks over at you in a way that is so intense and full of longing it steals your breath.

Suddenly light-headed, you have to excuse yourself for the night.

Chapter 8: Moments from a country ball

The next evening the ballroom of Aubrey Hall is humming with people and looks beautiful. The bustle of staff setting out flowers earlier in the day has been replaced by the lazier-paced members of the Ton admiring the floral displays and quaffing their champagne.

You nervously smooth your gloved hands down over your blue dress. You specifically asked Madam Delacroix to make you a gown that would match the Bridgerton family colours. She had just winked. “Certainly, ma cherie, they are quite the family”. The lady knows far too many secrets.

With James tucked up in bed for the evening after a fun day exploring the estate just the two of you, it’s your chance to enjoy some grown-up company. You grab a glass of champagne and watch the assembled young ladies and gents take their place for the first dance.

Suddenly you feel a presence by your left side.

“You look beautiful,” Benedict murmurs. All of your body lights up from just a simple compliment.

“Thank you,” you say quietly and bump him lightly with your shoulder, “and you look very handsome,” you add, looking up into his eyes.

Oh god, that was a mistake. Trapped again. Unable to look away.

“I was hoping you would do me the honour of a dance, Mrs Darby,” sotto voce, your gaze still locked on his.

“Don’t call me that,” you implore, “please just call me by my first name.”

“Will you do me the honour of a dance, y/n?” he amends a little smirk on his lips.

“Yes,” you are far too breathy.

You have never danced with him before. The simple act of being in a respectable hold sends your thoughts scattering. In the past, you have mapped every inch of this man’s body with your tongue, but the feel of his arm curled gently around your back undoes you.

You are swept up into the dance. Into him. The father of your child. The best lover you ever had. The person that feels most like home and an adventure all at once.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks quietly after a few minutes as you move around the dancefloor, “you look so wistful.”

“You,” you admit simply.

“Oh,” he looks bashful, “what about me?”

“How different things can be after so many years, but also strangely how it can be as if no time has passed at all.” you sigh.

He inhaled sharply. “I couldn’t agree more” his intense gaze drops to your lips as the music ends, but you stay locked in each other’s arms.

“Benedict…” you stutter, “I….”

“Is this the reason?” A woman’s voice cuts into your reverie.

You look over to see Miss Elliott standing nearby, arms crossed, looking at Benedict with a sour expression.

“Miss Elliott?” You greet hesitantly.

Her head whips to you, and she frowns when she recognises you “wait… Mrs Darby?” she shakes her head a little “You? You are the one he…” she stops mid-sentence looking stunned.

“Oh….” She turns her heel and bustles away.

“Miss Elliott,” Benedict calls, “wait.”

He gives you an apologetic look and then takes off after her, leaving you suddenly alone on the dancefloor.

You feel eyes on you, those who just witnessed the odd moment. So you walk briskly to grab a refreshment before anyone can corner you and ask questions. You plan to retire to the terrace to get some air, your thoughts a jumble.

As you step outside, you revel in the feel of the evening air, cool on your skin. You take a sip of lemonade and look around for a seat until you hear voices below. Curious, you move into earshot.

“…I thought we had an agreement,” the woman sighs.

“Circumstances have altered,” is the reply. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Benedict.

You know you shouldn’t, but you draw closer, standing behind a stone column so you'll be hidden even if they look up.

“How?” she asks; a peek around the column tells you it's Miss Elliott.

“I am reconsidering how my future may look,” he says slowly. “I have recently received news that has, well, it’s changed my whole life. My whole perspective on everything; I desire and want for things I thought impossible.”

Your heart pounds.

“What?” She asks.

Yes, what? You think.

“A wife I love. Children.”

Those five words have you spinning.

“I thought that the exact opposite of what you wanted?” She argues

“It was,” he admits, “but sometimes life throws you the most… amazing surprises, and I would be a fool not to at least try to get what I want. What I’ve always wanted.”

You feel your hands shaking.

“Is it her? Mrs Darby? The one to whom your heart belongs? I saw the way you two were looking at each other when you were dancing.”

“It’s not just her,” his voice emotional, “it’s someone else. A very special someone I recently met.”

Oh god, he means James.

“Someone so perfect and wonderful. The love I feel for them. Even though I’ve only spent a few precious moments with them… It’s so profound and life-altering. I never knew…” he sounds choked up.

You feel a tear roll down your face.

“You are irrevocably in love, aren’t you?” She says quietly, resigned.

There is no audible response.

She sighs. “Where does that leave me?”

“I am so sorry,” he replies sincerely, “I will try my best to find you another who would be favourable to this type of match. I know of some artists who have such arrangements. Perhaps they have friends seeking the same. So you can be free to love who you love.”

“Mr Bridgerton, thank you, but… I will be okay. I am not annoyed. Just disappointed. This was always about convenience. I wish nothing but the best for you. I just hope it works out for you.”

“So do I”, you hear him sigh. Then the crunch of footsteps on gravel as one, if not both, of them walk away.

You stay leaning against the column, closing your eyes, your head spinning with all you just overheard.

So wrapped up in your thoughts and feelings that you don’t hear footsteps up the stone steps from the garden below until it’s too late to flee.

“Y/n?” You open your eyes and see him standing a few feet before you. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, it's a little stuffy inside; I came out just this moment for some air,” you lie.

He steps closer. “Why have you been crying?” His voice suddenly filled with concern.

“Benedict…” you breathe, and his arms enclose you in a tight embrace.

“What happened? Tell me,” he implores, rocking you gently. His cheek pressed against your temple. The warmth of his body seeping into yours.

You can’t tell him you are crying because you overheard him, all the beautiful things he said; it feels like such an invasion of his privacy.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you dismiss, “just happy tears,” your explanation is intentionally vague.

“Happy tears? What do you mean?” He cranes his head back slightly and looks at you, confused.

“I… just… I can’t explain it. But please just hold me,” you whisper.

“Of course. Always,” he breathes, and you wrap yourself around him, pressing your face into his neck, inhaling his scent. He says nothing, just lets you stand in his arms.

Unseen by you both, Violet appears in the doorway to the terrace and smiles to herself.

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton

497 notes · View notes

spnexploration · 1 year

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Pack chapter 12

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Madison

Series summary: Omega!Reader is thrown into a world she's not expecting when her mate turns out to be a hunter, and she's not used to Alpha & Omega Pack dynamics.

Chapter summary: Dean remains in the local hospital clinic

Chapter warnings: none

Word count: 1.6k

Series Masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 11 <- -> Part 13

I awoke feeling something moving beneath me. I whined slightly. “Sorry, Omega, I need to pee,” Sam chuckled.

I opened my eyes and realised that I had Sam's entire arm trapped, with my face on his bicep and my arms wrapped around it. He was gently trying to pull it out of my clutches. I released it quickly, mortified.

I couldn't stop the loud whine that left my mouth when I stopped touching him. The pain increased when he was gone.

Madison rubbed her hand up my arm. “We’ll go see Dean when they open up visiting hours. How about some breakfast?”

I shrugged and let her pull me out of the bed. She led me to the kitchen and sat me in a chair while she made me some toast. I rubbed my sternum, where the pain was worst.

Sam came in, fully dressed, while I was sitting at the table, staring into the distance. I’d eaten a tiny nibble of my toast, which sat like a dead thing my mouth. I hadn't felt like any more, after that.

“Oh, Omega,” he said, looking at me sadly. “Still in pain?” I nodded my head slightly. “Ok, I think visiting hours start at 9. Do you want a shower?” I shook my head. “Alright. Mads, can you help Y/N get dressed?”

Madison guided me back to my room and gently but firmly got me dressed, including one of Dean's flannels.

Sam called out from the hallway, “Mads?”

“Come in,” she replied.

I heard him walk in but didn't look up from where I sat, slumped on the bed. My whole chest ached. Sam crossed to me and rubbed his wrist on my neck, gently scent marking me. I leaned into his touch, it hurt a little less as he did it. He stopped touching me and I whined. “Does touching me make it feel better?” he asked gently. I nodded.

“Ok,” he said, sitting next to me and wrapping his long arm around my shoulders. I leant into his embrace, turning my head into the crook of his neck. He didn't smell exactly like what I wanted, but being close to his scent was calming. I started to move my body to get even closer to him, turning my chest to face his. I whined again, trying to get closer. I raised my arm on to his other shoulder and was about to climb on to his lap when he stopped me with his hands on my waist. “Let's go get in the car, you can cling to me there. Mads, it's your lucky day, you get to drive.”

“Yes!”

“Please don't kill us all,” he joked. He stood up and brought me with him, wrapping his arm around my waist. He led us to the car and sat in the back with me, letting me climb all over him and change positions a million times, trying to find a way to make it stop hurting.

---

Sam's arms were around me, leading me into the clinic. I found it hard to walk, hard to do anything myself. He was half-carrying me by this point. I felt disconnected from reality, still in pain but it was so much worse any time Sam wasn't touching me.

“Come on, almost there,” he murmured reassuringly.

The lady at the desk wouldn’t let us in, “Visiting hours don’t start until 9am, it’s 8:45. Take a seat and wait.” She reminded me of Roz from Monsters Inc.

Sam led me to the plastic seats. He seemed about to direct me to sit down when he looked at my face more closely and instead pulled me on to his lap. He gently guided me to lean against his chest.

Madison went over to the desk. “It’s only 15 minutes, can’t we go in now?”

“Rules are there to be followed, kid,” the woman said dismissively.

“Can’t you see how sick being separated is making his Omega?” Madi was starting to get worked up.

“Visiting hours are from 9am.”

“That’s bullshit!” Madi yelled, slamming her hand down on the bench.

“Omega!” Sam exclaimed, partially moving me off his lap as if he was preparing to go grab her. “Come and sit down, now.”

Madi glared once more at the desk lady before sauntering over to where Sam and I were sitting. She slumped herself into the chair next to him, looking for all the world like a sullen teenager.

“Pissing off the staff is not going to get you what you want, Mads,” Sam admonished quietly.

Finally, they let us through. I clutched Sam as he led me down the corridors to Dean’s room, and waited, held up by Sam, as Madison opened the door.

“Hey-” Dean started and then cut himself off. “What happened?!” he demanded as Sam and I entered the room. He was sitting up in his bed with a drip in his bad arm, looking much better.

“Pining Sickness, I think,” Sam replied. He stopped and picked me up bridal style, carrying me to Dean's bed and depositing me next to him on his good side. “Here you go, Omega,” he murmured to me.

I snuggled into Dean, breathing in his scent. He smelt better than he had the day before, but still a bit sick and unnatural with the drugs they were giving him. I shuffled around, trying to get closer to him to make it hurt less without hurting him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean murmured. He stroked my head gently and I practically purred. He chuckled. “Seems like you really were worse than me, this time.”

After a couple of minutes of breathing in Dean’s scent, the pain in my chest had eased. It was still there, but much, much better. My brain was starting to catch up, too.

I suddenly sat up. “Did you reject me?!” I cried to Dean, starting to push away from him but hindered by the bed rail behind me.

“What? Of course not!” Dean answered, looking at me and then at the others, confused.

I turned to Sam, who was behind me on the chair with Madison on his lap. “You said it was Pining Sickness! How could I have Pining if I wasn’t rejected?!”

“I probably should’ve said ‘something like Pining Sickness’, sorry. You know what I was saying last night about your hormones after you went into shock and the threat it perceived to the bond with your mate.”

“Oh.”

Dean rubbed his hand up my arm, “It’s ok, sweetheart. How about you come here with me again?” I slowly lay back down against him.

A while later, my tummy started rumbling. “You feeling better now, Y/N?” Sam asked me. “The pain better?” I nodded. “How about you and Madi go see if there's a cafeteria or a vending machine so you can pick something for breakfast? You didn’t eat anything at home.”

I looked at Dean and he nodded. Sam helped me down from the bed then gave Madi some cash. “Don't leave the building,” he warned us both. I followed Madi out of the room.

“So, what do you think they want to talk about about us?” Madi asked me with a grin when we were down the corridor.

“Wait, what?”

“Why do you think they just let us both go without an Alpha? They want to talk about us!”

I gaped at her. She laughed. I couldn’t tell if she was messing with me or not.

---

Dean tried to argue that he should be allowed home or I should be allowed to stay, but to no avail. At the end of visiting hours I cuddled into him on his bed and he kissed my forehead. “You'll be ok,” he murmured. “Just let Sam and Madi look after you, ok?”

I nodded, blinking back tears. “Get better, Alpha.”

“Always, sweetheart. Don't worry about me at all, I'll be fine.” He squeezed my arm and then looked over to Sam. Sam came and gently eased me out of Dean's bed, replacing the bed rail behind me, then put his arm around me and led me out. It didn't hurt as much as it had overnight.

---

We picked up take away for dinner. Madi and Sam were clearly trying to keep my mind off things, encouraging me to watch TV with them, having unrelated conversations around me that they tried to involve me in, and generally being upbeat. I stayed mostly glued to Sam's side as I still felt better with him, but I was more able to move away than I had been before seeing Dean again.

When I started yawning, Sam turned the TV off and said to me gently, “Go get dressed for bed. You're sleeping in our room, no arguments.”

I nodded and did what he said. I had no desire to put myself through the pain of last night again.

I still felt awkward crawling into their bed in-between them.

“What,” Madi joked, “are you worried I’m going to go all John Wayne on you? ‘This bed ain’t big enough for the both of us!’” She laughed. “Just get in, Omega.”

---

Dean was sitting up in bed, bed rails down, when we came in the next day. I ran over to him and hugged him. He looked and smelled better, although there was still the underlying strangeness from the medication he was being pumped full of through his drip.

“Doctor came around just before, they reckon I can go home today and just take oral antibiotics for the infection.”

I kissed his cheek, excited that he would be coming home.

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torotoro0 · 2 years

Text

Didn't think I'd post chapter 2 that fast but ok-

Morpheus x Reader

'The Nightmare's Dream' {Chapter 2}

{Click for the chapters}

Lucifer's request seems too hard, not to add the new humanity's era, a ton of catching up, and Morpheus being cold and mean.

Word Count: 3.3k words {This is quite a long chapter, you guys tell me if you want more long chapters}

''What do you know about my brother Jed?'

"You are welcome here, Rose Walker" Dream stands up, What, A mortal is welcome to be here while I get to be ignored? That's just so sad.

Rose's face scrunches up to a confused look, making me and Lucienne look at each other. "Who are you"

"You have somehow dreamed you way into an audience with Lord Morpheus" I stepped forward, earning a glance from Dream. "The King of Dreams" Lucienne added as her confusion increased.

"And now you must go" She ordered, Mortals aren't supposed to just waltz in Dream's Palace like it were a dream of theirs, She must really be a vortex I suppose, I look back to Dream who is still wearing his usual face.

"Lucienne"

"She shouldn't be here" Lucienne argued, I look at Rose and gave her a small smile making her smile in return. "No, but I should like her to stay" Lucienne looked at Rose with an eyebrow up.

I can hear Dream breathing out loud behind me, looking back at him frowning, he frowned back.

"You're in the Dreaming"

"A place where people go when they sleep" I nodded. "So I'm asleep right now? I'm dreaming?"

"Yes, and I should like to know how it is you found me" Dream passes by me stopping in front of Rose.

"I heard you guys talking about my brother, is he here?" She ignored his question making me snicker

"No"

"Do you know where he is?"

"No.."

"But I think he might be with one of my missing nightmares" He looks at the glass behind me, I turn around and was met by a huge blue shimmering glass window containing Gault.

"She's a nightmare?" Rose glances to Dream, "What would she want from Jed?"

" I don't know, But I have a feeling it has something to do with you"

While they were conversing, there was this tug of energy just behind me, looking back, I saw a crow of his, then another particular animal.

A cat.

It wore a scary, stoic, expression that almost made him look like a mustache gentleman, he was wearing a top hat, and some kind of mini monocle.

"How peculiar" I mumbled; slowly approaching the being, it waved its tail slowly and trotted away, like it wants me to follow it, the cat glances to me and its eyes began to glow. Everything was mute to me and the being, my eyes widening as Its eyes was showing something, its fur started to stand up while still maintaining eye contact.

Fog began to surround the creature and it slowly dissipates to air, snapping back to reality, I jogged beside Lucienne.

"What are they talking about now?" I leaned to Lucienne as I whisper. "Lord Morpheus is telling Rose to continue to find Jed in the waking world"

"Why? Can't you just find him here?"

"That's the easy way, but Jed isn't in the dream world, Lord Morpheus thinks Gault took him since rose is a vortex" I nodded making an :o face.

But Gault is a very good person, she wouldn't kidnap a weak mortal as hostage right? must she have a reason for all this?

"Matthew will look after you in the waking world" He glances to the bird. "at your service rose" He bows as Rose looks at him weirdly.

"When he is with you, I am with you" Rose looks back at him. "Then tonight, when you take your slumber, you and I will search for Gault and your brother together"

Using the vortex to find his creations... I grumbled. I also want to go with them, its been years since I get to do action!

"In your Dreams" He added. Lol I remember that on-

"She's just a nightmare right? She can't hurt him can she?"

I then woke up after the conversation they had, Apparently, Rose was trying to find her brother, which was 'kidnapped' by Gault, and the reason gault took Jed was because she wanted rose for her to become powerful.

That's not Gault, maybe their just mistaken, maybe Gault has good intentions for the boy and rose. Questions raced to my head as I went out of my room.

"So how was it?" Lucifer's voice suddenly chimed in, "Was what?"

She held her hands together, smiling, her wings gently flapping, as she held her chin up, approaching me slowly.

"Oh, you know what I'm asking" she brushed her hands on my hair. "You met him yes?" Her hand circled its way to my chin, caressing it.

"Oh.. yeah" I rolled my eyes looking down, "Aw, why so sad?" she cupped my face.

"Just leave me alone Lucifer" She cupped even tighter making me pout and sound like a pick me now.

"Oh! I guess its been a century, the human's fashion has drastically change" all of a sudden she hands me a black card. "Here, for all your troubles" Inspecting the card, I noticed my name written on it.

"How did you do this without me?" I furrowed my brows, sure I was imprisoned for a long time but, you need the actual person to apply for a card. {Imagine there's old debit cards in the 19 century that's why you know what the cards are}

"Oh, I have my connections, now, go and waste it all, it never runs out of mortal money." She shoos me away. Mortal money? psh, how cliché. "Now, now, what will I buy with this.." I mumbled as I teleported to an alleyway.

"Ugh, It stinks here" I pinched my nose, walking outside the alley, I saw hobos and bystanders smoking and drinking, some, even winking. Cars passing by, here and there, black smoke coming out of them, the sidewalks were full of beggars shaking their can. "Speaking of stinky" I roll my eyes. {Sorry for making the reader mean, but I keep seeing all x readers where the reader is purely kind, and I know some of you has a mean personality in you *wink wink*}

Its been a century and this is how humanity progressed? how disgusting, glancing down to my hand, I stared intently at the card. "Bitch think, I'm poor after a century" Just kidding, I'm literally broke af.

After a short moment of walking, I noticed that, the clothes also drastically changed through out times, if we wore dresses and corsets before, they use these colored pants and colored shirts, there's also these long sleeved ones in different colors, if you want to wear a skirt one they changed it, instead of foot long skirts its either ankle high skirts or knee high, some wear tight short dresses which makes them look like sardines, but an alive one.

"Hey girlie you lost?" I turn around to see a hobo, "Uhm- No, no I'm not" was all I simply answered, there's this times where I imagine me beating the shit out of a molester but when I encounter one, I just sink down and panic on the inside.

"You seem though, you want me to escort you to the main area? there a lot of kidnappers here you know" He smiles, holding his hand out making me furrow my eyebrows.

'Are you sure about this your majesty?'

'Not to worry, she will be fine there'

'But it has been years sinc-'

'Did I ask for your opinion? No, so keep your mouth closed'

"Uh, I already said no, so leave me be" I turn around fastening my pace, humans will be humans, just let them be and they will not bother you. "Hey! don't you turn your back on me hottie" he grabs my arms.

"You don't want to do this mortal" I hissed, tightening his grip "Mortal? is that what you call your lovers? Well then, I'll play along baby" he smirks. Augh, his teeth are fucking yellow, I frown.

"Get your stinky hands of me" I tried to pull my hand away from him, but failed resulting to him tightening more. "What did you say little girl?" he gritted his teeth,

"Little?" I scoff, as if he's any older than me. "Do you want to know how old am I?"

"Sure, pray tell" He mocks.

"I'm 10 billion years old right now" I smile, why lie about my age? as the old folks would quote, 'The older the wine, the better'

He scoffs "Do I look like a fucking joke to you?!" he pulls me towards him. "I'm not lying, its the whole truth"

"Lying Bitching" he tightens his grasp earning me a fucking bruise.

'What if she get's hurt with this?'

'She won't, as I said not even I can't diminish her'

"Let me go please"

"Pwease! Oh pwease let me go!" He squealed. Eh, Cringey ass bitch.

My other hand made its way to his face making him flinch. "Wha- what are you doing?" my hands guided itself to his chin grabbing them, 'Anything you want to imagine' His face began to melt as he pull away from him.

'Wh- what is happening! This fucking hurts! stop that you fucker!' I smile contently as I turn around and continued my journey.

'Pathetic' I mumbled.

'You did very, very well'

"My lord may I help?" Lucienne approaches the slumped endless. "Is this all we have of Rose Walker?" He skims through the book.

"And Jed Walker but, I shouldn't think that there's anything in those you don't already know" she stops in front of the table. "Except perha-"

"Except perhaps why she was able to wander around into my throne room" looking up from the volume. "What do you think" Leaning on the table with one hand.

"Why did Gault target her brother and not her" Staring intently at the librarian. "Did you read about Unity Kincaid?"

"The day you were imprisoned.." She turn around finding a book. "There were people from a all over the world who fell asleep and could not wake up"

"Unity Kincaid is the sole survivor of what they called the 'sleepy sickness'" peering over to the endless then approaching him. "The day you returned, she woke up" handing the book to the slumped figure.

"Rose walker is her Great Grand-Daughter" she states giving him a stern look. "Which would seem to suggest that my absence caused the birth of a vortex"

"is that not a possibility" cocking her head to the side. "Vortexes are naturally occurring phenomena, No one knows why they happen. Not even I know"

"But I do know that they are not caused of created. they simply happen" the endless lets out a huff.

"Then this is all a coincidence? And not an imminent threat?" The librarian furrows her eyebrows. "My instinct says no, but tonight when Rose Walker sleeps, I shall see it more clearly"

"May I?" He waves the book on his hand to the librarian. "Of course"

"I've been trying to remember my dad's friends but, I don't think he had any" She places down a poster on the car. "He was a pretty unfriendly guy"

"Well, do you remember any golf buddies, or drinking buddies or.." Hal questions walking beside the girl. "What else do married straight men with kids do?"

"Well, if they're anything like my dad, they have affairs" Rose sighs. She's been searching for her brother for months now, giving out flyers, asking people where her brother might be, it wouldn't have been hard if the agency just told her where Jed was.

"Oh, That's why your mom divorced him" His tone suddenly saddens at the thought of it. "That was just one reason"

Little did they know there was a shadow lingering just behind them, continuing on following them she decided it was the right time to show up.

"Hello there" I peek behind the car. "Who is.." Hal furrows his eyebrows.

"Wait, you th-" Rose was abruptly cut off when I made a shh sign to her. "Rose? Who is this?"

"Hi! My name's Y/N" I approach the guy holding my hand out. "Oh! What a cute lady we have here" He shakes mine.

"Didn't know you had beautiful friends Rose" Chuckling, he pulls his hand back. "Yeah, Uhm, may I talk to you..." Glancing to Hal "Privately?"

She pulls me behind a hedge. "W-what, wait, why-" She stuttered out, not knowing what question to ask. "I'm here to help you" I smile, I couldn't come near Dream myself, but I could use some wing woman right now.

"Isn't the raven supposed to be watching me rn?" She furrows her eyebrows. "Matthew is supposed to guard you, while I am here to help you with your brother!"

"How do I know I could trust you?" Lifting an eyebrow up. "I suppose you couldn't really trust me right now.." pretending to think, I search my small pea brain mind, of ways to make her trust me. Having trust issues are good, but are also worst for some.

"Well, by helping you find your brother, I can prove that I can be trustful enough! Deal?" I held out my hand. There was a short moment of silence between us.

"Can both of you hurry up? The faster we put these up the better"

"Deal.." She then lifts a finger up. "But, If I sense any possible attempts of you endangering me or my friends, your dead"

"As if she could kill me"

"Come on now Y/N, we have work to do!" She smiles waving her hand towards me. "Coming!"

"This- This is our old house"

"The last time I saw Jed was right there, seven years ago" pointing to the parking way. "He's been missing for 7 years?" I took a flyer.

"Yes- and no actually, he was fostered to one of my dad's friends, and now I want to get him back" her smile faltered a bit, I don't really know why humans want to take care of such annoying, pesky, stinky children, its such a klutz, why would anyone want little minions running around destroying whatever they see?

"You haven't seen him since?" Hal, that I forgot was with us, spoke up. "When my mom got a job in New Jersey, my dad cut us off completely"

"Stopped paying alimony, child support, he wouldn't let us see of talk to Jed." Hal hummed as a response, I was just walking with them... awkwardly.

She went ahead and rang the house's doorbell and even knocked on it. "So.. how did you and Rose meet?" Hal leaned sideways and whispered to me.

"I um- we met at a ..." shit, humans have such random questions at random times, for random things. "A... uhm, a library!, yes a library" I smiled awkwardly.

"Ahh, I guess she printed her flyers there.."

"You know, do you have a place to stay here? I don't really see you here often are you new to this place?"

"Uh, no, not really, just came here a.." my pea brain couldn't take this test, oh dear Lilith help me. "just 2 weeks ago, yes, and then I met Rose just a few days later haha" nervously chuckling I switched my attention to Rose who was slowly approaching us.

"My mom sued him, she didn't gave up, while I went to college" She started. "I haven't been a very good sister"

"Mm, you're making up for it now, though am I right?" I nudge her elbow. "hm, I'm trying"

"And Y/N, Since you don't have a place to stay for the moment, do you want to rent a room in my place?" He peers to me. "Rose and her guardian is also living there"

Well, anything that can benefit me, is an OK! "Sure! how much will the rent be?"

"Oh! Don't worry about that the rent is super cheap, that your like buying a restaurant meal here!" He laughs.

After some time, we were now walking on a beach side, naked people wearing small under garments, sitting under their umbrellas, others', was wearing shoes with wheels, noisy children chasing each other. Short story, we went to a beach filled of chaotic, petty people.

"I mean I tried to escape." A skater snatched a flyer. "I went directly to New York after college to have a huge Broadway career, before moving on to film and television, of course"

"Of course" I stated while looking around, still getting met by the sight of naked people. "But you know, if you're not already a film or television star. You can't even get a job on Broadway"

"So when my grandmother died, and left me that ridiculous house, I came home."

"Do you miss new York?" I peered to his side. "Not as much as I thought I would"

"Hmm" Rose handed flyers to a couple. "I mean- New York's very hard, and this place is not so bad.."

My attention moved over to a black figure, "Eh its a crow" I mumbled. "I'm gonna put a few up over there" Rose grabs my wrists. "So if you maybe want to.."

"Yeah, absolutely. I'll catch up with you two" Hal decided to go near the shore, for a split second I felt an energy just behind us, but I ignored it, maybe it was just Matthew or something? or one other of Dream's minions.

"Finding Matthew?" I peer over to the girl. "Yeah, just wanna see if what I saw last night was real" I hummed in response, scanning my surroundings, I saw a black bird just between two pillars.

"Matthew, is that you?" Rose kneels on one knee. "Rose that's no-"

"Nope- That's a crow, and I'm a raven" a voice chimes in behind us. "I'm a raven. Common mistake"

Rose's mouth gapes as she kneels down. "You're real?"

"Technically I'm a dream, but sure." He flaps a wing. "And hello your maje-" I looked at him furrowing my eyebrows, he caws in response. Sure I'd want to brag that I'm a 'Majesty' but, no, it'll raise more suspicion to her and Plan will fail.

"H-Hello there uhm- Y/N"

"And is Morpheus watching us right now?" scanning her surrounding, she turned to the raven again. "He is. I can feel him in the back of my head" eugh, must be excruciating when you share a mind with another being, like what if Matthew was a person, Dream would be watching him shower and even watch him rub ma-

"Its the weirdest feeling, Do you need him?" He continued.

"Fuck"

"No, but he said he'd be there tonight when I fall asleep"

"Me too, me too, I'll be coming to help Rose with her brother" I smile proudly. "Yeah, Him and Y/N is going to help me find him"

"That's the plan, and I'll be around till then if you need me" He squirms. "Thank you"

"You got it kid." He then flies away. "So, Rose, where is hal's house located?" I move in front of her, "Oh, your gonna love it there Y/N, all the house members are so welcoming, you wouldn't even feel like your a newcomer there!"

"I guess, people tend to run away from me when I approach them haha" I scratch my nape, feeling a bit of uneasiness around. "Why don't we go find Hal? I'm sure He's been waiting for us" chuckling, we interlocked our arms jogging.

We approach Hal giggling at each other, I then saw a man in white clothes walking away from him. "Friend of yours?" I asked as Hal seemed to be surprised with us. "No, but he took a flier, so he might be calling" Imitating a phone with his hand.

"Mm-hmm. I'll give him your number" Rose chuckles. "Oh you!" He nudges us.

"But thanks!" whispering, we then proceeded to head 'home'.

A/N: Not much of interaction with Morpheus and you here, but I promise more of dream in the next chap!

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firubii · 11 months

Text

ok you know what fuck it 2 am kirby research dump time: kirby fighters 2 story mode/buddy tower stones since thats what ive been researching recently while mapping out the game's exefs (main executable) in ghidra

first off, every level for each stone is its own item. while this seems like a weird decision at first, it does make checking for the cursed stones for the debuffs a lot easer since the game only needs to check if you have any amount of the level 5 stone

each stone has a specific function for calculating that specific buff. first, the game gets the amount of each level stone you have, then multiplies each count by the corresponding stone's bonus, and finally adds the products of all of them together.

(L1_count * L1_bonus) + (L2_count * L2_bonus) + (L3_count * L3_bonus) + (L4_count * L4_bonus) + (L5_count * L5_bonus)

because you will never have more than one of each level, this works very nicely!! if you don't have a specific level, that will result in 0 due to multiplying by 0, and if you do have one, itll produce the bonus due to multiplying by 1. this also has the side effect of being able to stack multiple of one level stone, though this wont happen in normal gameplay, but it would be fun to mess around with!

there are two stones that are actually completely unused!! they're unobtainable in normal gameplay since the item table has them disabled for every single chapter, but they are fully implemented in both the native code and hal's scripting bytecode, mint!!

BlowAway the "BlowAway" stone causes opponents launched by your throws to be in hitstun for a longer period of time, and as such more susceptible to buddy tosses. the base amount of frames is 40, so the hitstun for each level is:

45 frames (+5)

53 frames (+8)

64 frames (+11)

78 frames (+14)

96 frames (+18)

98 frames is a lot of time for a video game, especially a fighting game!! specifically, its 1.6 seconds of hitstun!!! this stone was probably way too strong and was cut because of that. interestingly, the maximum this stat can go is 200 frames, which is 3 and 1/3 seconds. that is WAY too much hitstun for any game, even if its just what you deal to opponents in a situation that isnt super common unless you're one of the two grapplers in the game.

ShieldTime this stone is interesting due to the fact that everything related to guarding isn't handled in mint, but rather the native game code itself in exefs!! what the "ShieldTime" stone does is reduce how much your guard meter depletes while holding the button.

the base is a multiplier of 1.0, and has a minimum of 0.25. this stone's formula subtracts the bonus from the maximum value instead of adding to the minimum. so, for each level, this multiplier is:

0.7x

0.25x (result is 0.2, which goes under the minimum)

0.25x (result is -0.45, which would cause the guard gauge to increase rather than decrease)

0.25x (result is -1.25)

0.25x (result is -2.25)

looking at how this starts to scale negatively, this stone was probably scrapped pretty early before the values could be actually fine-tuned.

interestingly, the level 5 stone items are referred to as "PieceDevil__Ex", while the level 4 stones are called "PieceDevil__". these probably were going to have a negative health drawback like the level 5 stones. in fact, the yaml file that dictates which items can appear inbetween floors actually tells us this!! there's a "name" property that is named uniquely for only the two unused stones i just talked about, and at the end of that for both of those there is a short description of the stone's effects not present in the other stones's name properties. this actually includes the health debuff!!

it seems like the level 4 stones used to take away a quarter (25%) of your health, and the level 5 stones were actually buffed in the final game!! originally, it looks like they were going to take away 40% of your health instead of half of it (50%)!!

thats about it for now, this has been very fun to document and i will probably make more big posts like this when i can!!!

#kirby #reverse engineering #kirby fighters 2 #programming #i had to completely rewrite this entire post and take new screenshots because it all got wiped when i pressed ctrl+z a single time

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ajthinks · 1 year

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Royal Road in Review

Ok, I've definitely learned some things during this month of posting Dungeons of Danrya to Royal Road.

Rapid posting gets your fiction seen by more eyes. This is kinda obvious.

Community engagement raises the rating on your fiction, which increases how many people see your fiction. Again, sorta obvious.

Review swaps are somewhat essential if you don't have a reader-base to pull from elsewhere.

Ok... 2 and 3 kinda go together. The more you hang out in a community, the more people will poke around your profile and see what you write. You can talk to people who read and write similar things and get some good readers that way. Obvious. But the biggest boost to Dungeons of Danrya ranking has been reviews.

And the quickest way to get reviews is to swap reviews: I review your fiction, you review mine. I've stuck to honest reviews so far, because I'm nice enough as is to sugarcoat shit. I don't want to promise 5 stars and then end up hating the story or characters or grammar. If I rave about your story it'll be because I actually love it and nothing less.

The good news is most people take the little niggling things you write in reviews and try to figure out what they can change to make it better. You can chat with other writers about how you write vs how they write, what works for their story and what doesn't, what's a personal taste and what's off. Which is really cool! It shows a willingness to learn and grow as writers, which makes for a healthier community overall (imho).

But (and you might have seen this twist coming a mile away) some people don't like when you give them less than 5 stars or mention the less-than-stellar qualities of their writing. And then they review your fiction and bomb it to high hell. Hmm, yes, very mature. It wouldn't bother me so much if such reviews actually had any usable criticism or the reviewer was open to clarifying what didn't work for them.

So, Royal Road's ranking & review swappery isn't a perfect system by any means, but it works decently well for what it needs to do, which is raise the likelihood that readers will find your fiction on Royal Road.

As far as community engagement goes, it's definitely not enough to throw up your story and sit back. Humans are social creatures. So you kinda have to do the social thing. But the RR forums are pretty chill, safe places to find readers and fellow writers. I found some new favorite stories knocking about too.

There's also the official RR discord server. I'll admit, I'm not as active on there as I probably should be. But at this point I have my favorite writing discords that I spend a lot more of my social time on. And they're specifically 18+, so I don't feel weird about others complaining about their teachers when I myself teach for a living. ^^; YMMV

Now, let's get into something more enjoyable: statistics!

This is the rating for Dungeons of Danrya, from first published chapter to present day. It's done pretty well so far, aside from a brief dip down.

And this is the current standing: ranking, rating, follower count, etc. I'm not gonna lie, I found it stupidly easy to obsess over this line this entire past month. Lesson learned, now I only let myself look on the weekends.

So, in summary, what have I learned that could be potentially passed on to some newbie just starting out on Royal Road?

Don't start posting until you have a backlog.

And when you do have a backlog, don't post it all at once. One chapter a day seems to be the ideal, but only if your backlog's big enough.

Keep up with your backlog. You want to aim for consistency more than anything else, which means you need to keep writing. For me, Arc 1 is complete, so I'm good there, but I'm actively working on Arc 2.

Engage with the community: Ask questions at the end of chapters for readers to answer and add interactive polls every now and then.

Community engagement: For writers, read others work. Participate in review swaps and celebrate others' successes. This'll make it more likely for them to read and celebrate you too.

I might do another month of rapid posting at some point. Maybe when I release Arc 2? That might be a nice "and here's the new book" kinda thing.

Well, bye for now!

#royal road #dungeons of danrya #writing #posting

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danielxricciardo · 3 years

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Where do we go from here

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Chapters: 1/?

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,015

Playlist for the series

It was your fault when you agreed to go to Monaco. After what happened the last time, you swore you would never go back there. Because it fucked with your mind and soul. You were crushed and your best friend had to scrap you off the floor for weeks, he had to remind you to shower and to eat. Knowing he will be so pissed you chose to go back to him, you didn't tell him you were leaving for a week until you were on the plane. His reaction was everything you were expecting, he called you a bitch and he advised you not to get back to him with a broken heart to cry on his shoulder then he hung up on you. Sure, you both knew you will cry on his shoulder after this week.

The entire flight you were questioning your life choices. How did you get there? You wanted - you needed to know how you allowed yourself to become dependent on a piece of affection from Daniel. You were trying to figure out when you became a sucker for him but you couldn't, maybe because you always were.

You'd always been good friends, ever since he moved from Australia to Europe. You were his first non-Australian friend and he was always been grateful for you and your friendship. You were with him even when he didn't ask you to and even when he told you he wanted to be left alone. That was your first choice. You went with him to almost all the junior competitions, until he reached Formula 1, you cried with him when he had a bad race and you partied with him on a podium or a win. Fuck it, 9 years later, you were still with him. Red Bull Racing was the team that helped him discover himself as a driver and gave him confidence that he could get far. After only one year in the team, he finished third in the drivers' championship with 238 points and secured the first fastest lap of his Formula One career at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

But all this has consequences. The fact that he was so good and became so well known attracted many girls who wanted to meet him and be affiliated with him for increased media attention. The worst part was that he liked all the female attention. Who wouldn't like it? He could have a new girl every day and they would still not end. But Daniel was not the type to take such advantage of his name and his position in society, you thought at the time. But that was exactly what he did. At the end of the 2014 season, days would pass without hearing from him because he was too busy to enjoy the female attendance that crossed his threshold.

After a few months, you already had a pattern. For 5 days you would not hear from him and on Saturday morning he would call you with a guttural voice, asking you to come to his place. And you went there with some headache pills and for a few hours, you would listen to everything that had happened during the week with different girls. At first, it hurt a lot. To hear how your best friend and the person for whom you develop some romantic feelings, has fun, and fucks with different girls is not very ok, but over time the whole situation had become repetitive and you became immune.

But you didn't realize you became a regular girl in his bed too. The only difference between you and the tens, maybe the hundreds of girls before you, was that you warmed his bed on Saturday and Sunday. It was just you, all weekend, every weekend. You felt special. He gives you his full attention all weekend and you hope he doesn't need anyone but you, except that Monday was coming and you could see that to his right was another model looking for fame. But have you ever told him what bothers you? No. Because you'd rather share him with so many girls than not have him in your life at all.

So what happened when you ended up crying for weeks without eating or taking a shower? Daniel told you that he is done with all the girls and he wants to focus on his career. This is after in 2015 he finished the season in 9th place with only 92 points, without a victory, and only twice on the podium. Of course you were happy! Daniel was going to have only you in his life. But he told you that what was between you before, sex and everything else, must end as well. I mean, you had to go back to being just friends. But how do you go back to being just friends with the person you've shared the bed with so many times? Friends don't know the way you taste. Your luck was that you had to go for a visit to your parents for 2 weeks and you didn't have to see him. You had 2 weeks to lick your wounds and return to him without a broken heart. Troy, your best friend, was with you and he tried to put your heart back together. Just when he succeeded, you had to go back to Daniel as if nothing had happened. Broken heart? Who?

Making your own decisions makes you responsible for what comes out of that decision whether it was a positive move or not. Making your own decisions also allows you to make your own mistakes and learn from them. It was your decision to go back to Daniel, to your friend. It was hard to look at him and not want to kiss those fleshy lips but you could manage it.

"There she is!" you heard Daniel say as soon as the Nice Côte d'Azur airport gates opened. He was wearing his merch purple hoodie that you wore so many times before and a pair of black jeans. He had a pair of sunglasses on to keep him away from the press. You smiled. It's been 2 weeks since you've seen him and it's as if your heart has tightened in your chest. You really missed him. You ignored his calls because you didn't want to hear his voice and start crying on the phone and all the messages he sent you were deleted by Troy. You don't even know what he wrote to you.

"Hey, Daniel!" you said and hugged him. You were enveloped by the smell of his perfume and you smiled. He was your safe place. "Missed you."

He hugged you back and the force he put in that hug was enough to crush your bones. But it didn't hurt you. You wanted to be one with him, to be absorbed by him. Everything platonic, of course.

"Missed you too, Y/N."

The road to your house was not a long one but at that moment everyone seemed to be on the road at the same time as you so what needed to be a 45-minutes road trip was now more than an hour, and you were still in the car. The small talk already finished about your parents, your brother and your best friend, Troy, and about all the new things from your home town and at the moment in the car was an uncomfortable silence which none of you knew how to break.

"I tried to talk to you these 2 weeks, you know?" Daniel said and you swallowed loudly. You knew that at some point he would ask about why you didn't talk to him for two weeks, but you hoped it would take some time until then - you hoped you had more time to think about a pretty good reason.

"Yeah, sorry, I just wanted to focus on my people there, you know?" you bit the inside of your cheek until you felt the metallic taste of blood. You hoped it would be a pretty convincing reason but you knew after so many years of friendship that Daniel is not the type to press you if you don't want to say something.

"Yeah, I get it, I'm the same when I'm down under, y'know?" you both laughed, and for the first time in a long time you felt good around him. You felt yourself, no labels and no shoes to fill.

In front of your apartment block, after Daniel took all your luggage out of the car trunk, he leaned against the car, his hands folded, and looked at you.

"Aren't you going to help me get them up to my apartment?"

"Yes, in a minute," he says, still looking at you. "Would you like to do something tonight?"

You shrugged. You weren't tired after the flight, so you could have done something but you had so many questions. Just the two of you? Was anyone else coming? Any friends of his? Some girl? But you couldn't ask him, even if you were friends, you didn't want to give him the feeling that you were jealous. Were you jealous? You didn't have a reason just yet but you could become one.

"Sure. Do you have something in mind?"

"Remember Jay? He just opened a nightclub. Actually, tonight is the opening, he asked me to swing by for a few hours, want to go?"

"Yeah, sure, sounds like fun."

Daniel took two suitcases and passed you to enter the block, but he walked with the wheels over your toes.

"Hey, idiot, watch where you're going!" you yelled at him and immediately laughed. Daniel turned to you, laughing too. You didn't realize when you said it, but that was the exact phrase you told him when you first met.

You got out of the cab in front of the restaurant and slammed the door shut, despite the pleading of the driver to be gentle with his darling car.

You arranged your dress on your body and put your hair behind your ear. You were ready for this blind date that Ellie, your co-worker, planned for you. Of course, there were better things for you to do on a Friday night, such as drinking a bottle of red wine watching a few episodes of your favorite show. But you were there, prepared for a shitshow. You took a few steps towards the big glass door until someone hit you hard and made you unbalance and break a heel.

"Hey, idiot, watch where you're going!" you yelled at the boy that hit you. A tall, dark guy that made you lose the little balance you still had. A small amount of his curly dark-haired was peaking out under the white hoodie he was wearing and his brown big eyes were looking at you like you were a statuette that broke.

"So sorry," he said and the thick accent made your legs soft. Whatever accent that was, you knew you wanted to hear him talk non-stop. "Was looking for an address, I'm fucking lost."

"That's fine, maybe I can help you," you smiled at the boy and you took off your heels. One was already broken so there was no point in wearing them at this point.

"Oh, no, it's fine, you look so elegant, you must be dining with your boyfriend or something," he laughed and then saw the broken heel. "Bloody, I just broke your shoes, I'm so sorry!"

You laughed even harder at the panicked boy in front of you.

"No boyfriend, just a blind date I didn't even want to go in the first place so you saved me, I'm the one that should say thank you. Where do you need to go to?"

He came closer to you with a map in his hand. He showed you where he had to go and you explained to him that he was in the wrong part of the city but you were more than happy to show him the right way. But after you stopped at a boutique to buy a 5 euro pair of sandals.

"This city is not so big that you get lost in it," you told the boy, whose name is Daniel Ricciardo, he told you so. "How long have you been here?"

"Ugh, just a day, and I thought it was a good idea to go out and see the city, I even took this stupid map, but I still got lost."

"Okay, but why did you go out by yourself in the evening and not in the morning or, at least, when is sunny, y'know?" you ask him and point to his left, where you had to go.

"I woke up two hours ago. I slept for eleven hours with the whole time zone, jet lag, and shit and when I woke up I was hungry. I went to get some food and to visit the surroundings because why not," he shrugged.

"But where did you come from?"

"Perth, Australia, baby!" he smiled and leaned back, pulling his chest forward. Anyone could see how proud he was of his hometown.

"This is you!" you announced when you arrived in front of the apartment building, his final destination. He smiled so wide and hugged you.

"Thank you so much, you saved me!"

"No biggie," you smiled at him and then waved. "Bye, Daniel Ricciardo."

"Hey, hey, let's meet tomorrow for a brekky!" he casually announced.

"For a what?"

"Oh, sorry!" he laughed. "Forgot for a second you're not Australian. For breakfast."

"Sure, I'll come here at 9 so you won't get lost again. Bye, Daniel Ricciardo!"

"Bye, Y/N Y/L/N!"

"I'll come and pick you up at about 10 o'clock, ok?" Daniel announced just as he was about to leave your apartment after he got up all your luggage. "Sounds good?"

"Yep. All good."

"And wear something sexy!" he yelled as he was closing the front door. Something sexy? Why would he request a sexy outfit for a night out from you? His best friend. Sometimes Daniel made your head spin, that was one of those occasions, you didn't pay much attention to it, you just went to grab a shower.

The night had come too fast. Sure, you had enough time to put on makeup and do your hair, but you had no idea what to wear. You were sitting in front of the bed in your underwear, with three dresses lying on the bed when the clock struck 10 o'clock. You heard the front door open and close but you did not hurry to put something on yourself so that Daniel would not see you in your underwear; he saw you even worse than that.

"Hey, are you ready? Whoah!" he says and turns his back on you, with his hand covering his eyes. "You should have told me you were naked!"

You scoffed at him.

"Cut the crap and come help me pick a dress for tonight, Ricciardo."

Daniel removed his hand from the eyes and looked at you and swallowed hard. The underwear you were wearing was almost a silky one, black, that hugged your curves just right. He couldn't take his eyes off you and you loved all the attention.

"Stop drooling and come help me. Do you want to go to this club or not?"

Daniel came near you, his eyes were now on the push-up bra that lifted your breasts, making them fuller and bigger than they really were, and at that moment Daniel wanted nothing more than to touch them and play with them. But he remembered who was in front of him. He told his best friend that the sex games were now over because he was focusing on his Formula 1 career. That was not a lie at the time, but he just wanted to throw her in bed and make her forget the words he said that evening. He coughed a few times to regain his voice and then looked at the three dresses lying on the bed.

"That one," says the brunette and points to the short black dress that fits perfectly on your body. You would have chosen that one too.

"Ok, I'll be ready in a few minutes," you said and went to the bathroom to put the dress on. You adjusted your make-up and grabbed the bag and you were ready for a night out with Daniel. Or so you thought.

No one can see the dance floor, it's wall-to-wall people dancing to the club music. There's no room for any more but somehow Daniel was pulling my hand to where he knew Jay was sitting. The music vibrated in your ears and you were tempted to move to its rhythm, but you had to follow Daniel. After going through the whole room you reached your friend, the owner of the club. He told you that the drink for you was on the house and wished you a good time. Daniel announces that he is going to have a drink for both of you and leaves you alone among hundreds of strangers, driven by the same inner desire to get rid of inhibitions for a few hours that night.

The DJ moves everybody in ways no one has ever done before. Mixing the loud music on the turntables to the beat you desire to hear, the DJ watches the half-naked bodies of young men and women dancing around as if something has possessed their bodies. Men are wearing an undershirt, or no shirt at all, and pants. They eye the women who strut around in tank tops and tight dance pants or skirts, and who are smiling, and letting all their worries go away. A smile appeared on your face and look at the line at the bar for Daniel and you were pleasantly surprised to see that he was already looking at you. When you saw his smile you realized that the night will not end with you two still being just friends.

————————————————————————————

To be notified when a new chapter is posted, just respond to this post and I’ll tag you when the next chapter is up!

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #ongoing

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drivingsideways · 2 years

Note

How do you handle feeling discouraged when a fic/piece of writing doesn't do as well as you wanted or anticipated?

- From a baby writer who really wants people to look at her work.

Hi fellow baby-writer! The truth is, the first week after I publish a fic and get very few hits and fewer kudos, I'm totally miserable. It all feels pointless! It's all very well for people to say "you write for yourself"- but no, the act of posting it, sharing it with the world has completely changed that. Now it's out there, and for what? To be completely ignored?

Yeah, so the first week is bad, and then the things I *do * know about fanfic and publishing fanfic bubble up to the top of my brain space.

- First, kudos and hits are not an indicator of quality. They're just an indicator, I think, mostly of the fandom zeitgeist . If you're writing the fandom popular pairing, your hits/ kudos count will go up. If you just happened to strike it lucky- publishing at *just* the right time to ride the wave of the popularity of whatever media you're writing fic for, then it will go up. You've picked a popular trope or style in fandom- wowzah, amaze, watch the kudos counter increase steadily. I wrote a joke fic for a popular pairing in a fandom last year, and it's the most kudos-ed fic of mine for 2021; I wrote an epic, heart rending fic in the same fandom for a rare pair, that was clearly the better fic by all *writerly * standards- *crickets *.

-Second, I know from years of reading fanfic, that I sometimes forget to leave a kudos or a comment, or I think "I don't have the time right now, I'll go back and comment later" and never do, and sometimes I can see the fic is really nicely written, but it just wasn't what I was looking for, so I back out after a chapter, etc. None of this reader behaviour is something the writer is in control of or can even influence to a large degree. More and more I feel, fanfic has become just one of those things we consume and consume, and it's free (for the consumer) and the platforms we use to publish or promote our fic also encourage that kind of engagement. AO3 doesn't *want * to be social media, but it exists in a weird space in between, for sure. So I tend to think that the kind of engagement we get as writers publishing content there, reflects that. So: there's nothing as a writer that I can do about it, but knowing how it feels to be on both sides of the fence, I can only try to be more thoughtful as a reader, and remind myself of this when I'm feeling low as a writer.

Basically, don't think of audience engagement as a measure of quality. When you do find people interested in what you have to say, treasure them, and engage with them.

Third, find your writerly community, even if it's just you and one other person screaming over chat past midnight. They'll shore you up and tell you you're the greatest writer since Jane Austen, and you won't believe it at all, but you'll realize your work isn't entirely worthless. Also, be that person to other writers.

Fourth, and finally: we *do * write because we can't help it. The story is in us, and it needs to take concrete shape outside of our brains. It's a creative act, and it comes with all the joys (and sorrows) associated with any such monumental thing, whether that's five hundred words or a 100k.

So tl-dr, try and practice mentally divorcing the act and process of writing from the act and process of publishing. The second part is nothing you can control, the first is all you, baby. It's totally ok to stop publishing fic, if all it does is make you feel bad, and then publish again when you feel ready to.

But never give up on the writing! Take a break: six months, 1 year, 2 years- but you'll find it's literally the easiest thing to come back to when the time is right. Your brain will be like ohhhh, this feels familiar and good and simultaneously like tearing out my teeth because why are words so hard? But you'll do it, because you are a writer. I say this as someone who takes long long long breaks in between "producing" anything: it's fine, you'll know when the time is right, and never think to yourself, I'm done with writing, because trust me, writing isn't done with you.

#thanks for writing in #i hope this helps #i'm still here with my fics with ten kudos #and still writing #into the void perhaps #but sometimes the void shouts back and that's great #and sometimes there's just silence #and that's ok too

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Into the Twilight

Solisequious, Chapter 5

(Cyborg!Ezra x F!Reader with last name) [+18]

In that short moment between the light and dark the sunless void took its opportunity greedily, enveloping you in its shadowy embrace and leaning in close enough to whisper a secret in your ears.

Look.

<-Previous Next->

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.8k

Content warnings: Language, Ezra being a fucking dick, side character deaths, in-depth descriptions of aurelac harvesting, tragic backstory. Hurt/comfort, wound tending, lots of pining, secretive kisses. Sad ending for the CHAPTER, not for the STORY.

A/N: That last tag is important! This chapter ends on a cliffhanger so if you don't like the suspense it's ok to skip this chapter for now and wait for the last one. I don't do sad endings, I absolutely will not, promise! One more to go!

Swirling clouds of fog blanketed the forested landscape, concealing the dawnlight that peeped through the mist in spears of righteous gold, flickering elusively across the river's surface flowing below you. Steam rose from the waters as the days’ temperature steadily increased through the morning, curling into miniature cyclones in the wake of the hovering longboat. Gliding through the haze, the skiff flew over the water in silence, looking like something from a ghost story with her keel cutting through the fog and not the waves.

You and Ezra sat in the prow, his arm comfortably around your shoulders since you couldn’t hold yourself to the skiff, your own wrists tied and numb behind you. How unfortunate -ironic really- that it was under this same arm that you’d fallen so hard for his warmth, the fire of it rising with the profession of his affections, his desire for your kiss; yet now it scalded you like you were sitting next to the devil himself.

“How much further is it?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

It’d gone like this much of the morning, Ezra reliant on your topographical knowledge and none too pleased about it. You liked the power it gave you over him though, the way his lip scrunched and his circuits crackled. He hated not being in control.

“I’m startin’ to wonder if you actually remember the directions-”

“There!” Finally. As you rounded a bend in the river, the placid waters tumbled over the edge of a rocky waterfall, churning frothy rapids through boulders of black granite. From there it spilled into a basin framed by the mist-shrouded jungle, snaking through a colorful meadow until it disappeared into a canyon carved from the same dark rock. As the skiff coasted over the rumbling falls and the tide-like plumes of fog, the canyon revealed itself until it consumed the horizon, a labyrinthian scar of stone walls and roaring waters.

Somewhere in there, was the queen.

Ezra’s grumpy sigh could shake the heavens down if it were any stronger. “Pray tell me little bird, is that valley yonder the site of what we seek?”

“Dunno, gotta get closer.” So I can push you off the edge.

He grumbled his acceptance, waving at the helmsman to continue onward. “For your sake, I hope that it is.”

The meadow passed under your keel in a sea of color, dots of orange and vermillion swaying in an ocean of soft greenery that danced with the wake of the skiff, still wet with morning dew. Lush vegetation thinned and diminished the closer you got to the canyon’s edge, becoming a shoreline of onyx gravel that fell away entirely down the vast ravine. Water-filled corridors of streaky sediment branched and forked for miles, cracking the moon’s surface as if it had been struck by lightning.

There were dozens of them.

Ezra huffed at the sight, scrubbing his chin with his good hand in thought. “I must insist that you disclose which of these abysmal gorges are we headed for, Hawkins, because contrary to my affable nature, I am not a patient man.”

“Water.”

“You are not in any position to barg-”

“Get us something to drink, cyborg, or I’ll just let you roam that hellhole for the next decade looking for rocks.”

“Where did you learn to negotiate?” Ezra fixed you with his half-glare, scratching absently at the strip of cloth tied around his busted face. His single eye flickered from where he held you to him to something along the edge of the meadow, a smirk twisting his bushy lips. “Perhaps I’ll no longer require your assistance after all.”

He patted your arm roughly and stood, making the floating longboat wobble dangerously as he let himself out. Surprised that he just… left, you watched him, unsure if the sparks licking his brain had finally driven him mad or not. Where the meadow washed against the dark gravel, between the green and black, a red-brown smear pushed through the thin soil, unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know what to look for.

“Kevva favors those who are relentless.” Ezra shouted back to the boat, stabbing his hands to his hips and popping his stance. “I believe we are gettin’ closer to the queen than I thought. A pawn of hers has wandered too far from her protective bosom, and so loses the gambit.” You rolled your eyes, sick of his flowery speeches, but he had his back to you and probably wouldn’t have cared anyway. He fluffed his dark olive overcoat behind him to kneel in the gritty earth, brushing some of the dirt away from his prize.

Aurelac.

Items materialized from his pockets, canisters of fluids and field trays that he arranged around himself. He turned and peered over his shoulder, flashing you that wicked grin with a -snick- of his blade, the steel flashing brightly in the midmorning sun. Turning back to his work, he stabbed the pustule and carved it like he was serving holiday dinner, the meaty sound carrying horrifically over the rushing rapids.

“Is that an aurelac?! Let me see! I promise I won’t touch it, I-I just want to get a better view!” Tillie, ever true to her professional passion, wiggled in her bindings to get a better line of sight.

“It looks like roadkill to me.” Fiona, doing better today, clacked wearily at her overly excited friend. “I hope it fucking bites him.”

“Both of you be quiet! I need to concentrate.” Ezra barked from behind the shield of his coat, drawn up over his face to keep the creature's venomous spittle from his last good eye. The ground fizzled and squeaked, gurgling with some kind of solvent that he’d poured down the hole, and when it went still, he snaked his iron arm into the meaty fissure to remove the pearl’s pouch. You were glad to be so far away from it, disgusted by the milky-white bag Ezra was tearing from the ground, slicing through the umbilical with a wet snap.

“Hoo-wee! Lookit the size of it!” He held the slimy sack up for everyone on the boat to see, making Tillie nearly vibrate with excitement as if that wet bag of goop wasn’t justification for her execution. Ezra’s long blade split the bag open and discarded it after retrieving an even nastier chunk of offal from inside. He dropped it in the little metal tray, holding it between the gloved fingers of his left hand, but his right seemed to hesitate.

He cycled through his cutlass and the jointed picks, his five-fingered hand, and at one point a butcher’s knife, his head tilting this way and that with his thoughts. The hand returned to pick at the side of his face, fidgeting with the exposed wires of his cybernetic like he was adjusting his glasses, and the victorious realization dawned on you.

He can’t fucking see.

“What’s wrong, poo-paw? Forget your bifocals?”

“Don’t distract me, damn it! I’ve got it under control.” Ezra settled for the blade, picking away at the squishy exterior with careful cuts. Slow and deliberate, he circumnavigated the ball, nearly reaching his starting point when he exploded in a storm of curses, some of which you’d never heard before. “Seven fucking hells!” he bellowed, rising from his haunches and stomping about like an angry toddler. Your snickering drew his ire, and he fixed you with that bloodthirsty glare. “You think that’s funny?! That was a damn fine gemstone that just melted!” he scuffed his pointy peg around in the sand, looking for another specimen, his face beet red with fury when he found no more.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me then.” You purred, getting as comfortable as you could in your seat. “Sucks to be you.”

“Indeed it does.” Ezra grumbled as he climbed back into the boat, shoving a slower pirate out of the way and pulling a canteen from somewhere on his person. “Drink, and let’s be on.”

“Fiona first.”

Oh that scrunchy face. Ezra was getting wicked tired of being made a fool in front of his crew, but in truth he would have you no other way than the venomous little spitfire that you were. Somewhere in that gear-addled head of his, he was still hoping you would change your mind about his offer, but for now he was going to have to continue playing the beast while you unknowingly played his beauty. Begrudgingly, he did as you asked, giving both your companions a meager sip of water before you, ripping the canteen away before you’d gotten close to your fill.

Dickhead.

The longboat glided on, sliding over the cascading rapids and into the dark walled canyon, the obsidian corridors snuffing out the sun. Cold spray plumed over the rails, slowly soaking into your clothes and forcing a shiver down your spine. As agitated as you were with him, you were somewhat thankful that Ezra’s broad arm was taking the brunt of the chill off your shoulders with the added bonus of cooling his grumpy ass down.

You guided the skiff along the rapids, giving the helmsman your most confident directions, but as the canyon narrowed and the river deepened, you were beginning to worry you may have gotten the boat lost.

Ezra was, as he had said he would, running out of patience. His fingers drummed steadily along your arm where his hand rested, picking idly at the seam of your jacket and grumbling every time the river forked. Eventually the canyon walls grew so close together that the tips of the longboat’s sail would scratch and scrape the gravelly walls, knocking dark sediment down into the howling waters until it was eventually forced to a halt.

The river, furiously lashing against the canyon for eons, had carved its way into the unyielding stone, plunging into the dark heart of the moon and well beyond where light feared to tread. Jagged outcroppings hung like waiting teeth from the cavern’s mouth, hungry for any who dare enter.

You swallowed thickly around a dry tongue, wishing you had the aurelac on hand to double check your heading, but as much as you didn’t want to venture into that abysmal hole, you knew in your heart of hearts that this was the way to go.

“Are you certain of this?” Ezra asked you in a whisper, a slight twinge of doubt added to his twang. You nodded, and, surprised that he would trust you so easily, directed the longboat as close to the cavern as it could get. Along the edges of the river ran a thin ledge where the water had once flowed higher but slower, just wide enough for carefully calculated steps. Ezra demanded a handful of crew to come with him, with the last one in charge of keeping watch over Fiona and Til. “Hawkins, you’re with me.”

“How exactly do you expect me to walk with my hands tied-”

The cyborg cut you off with a growl, hauling you roughly to your feet and practically tossing you out of the boat onto the ledge. Wet with spray, the granite was slick and dangerous, made worse by your lack of arms, but Ezra was quick to follow. “Hold still.” Gripped by your wrists, you were tugged backwards against your instinct to flee from the sound of his blade, and were suddenly surprised by the feel of him cutting through your ropes. He leaned in close, scraping the sensitive skin of your ear with his cheek, the sound of his teeth parting sending a shiver down your spine. “Do not make me regret this, starling.”

Pins and needles spiked through your fingertips when the ropes fell away, and you reflexively brought them back in front of you, rubbing at your bruised wrists. Whatever. The longboat was dismissed, floating back up to the top of the canyon with your friends, leaving you alone with Ezra and his men. As it abandoned your search party you could hear Tillie yowling up a storm, demanding to be taken along to see the fabled aurelac queen.

“Are you absolutely fucking kidding me!? I came all this way to see - don’t you tell me to calm down, Fiona! No! I’m a fucking zoologist you sons of bitches!! You don’t even have to untie me! Just let me watch!! At least take my camera!!! HAWKIIIINSS!!!”

Sorry, Til.

Ezra swallowed his doubts and cycled his wrist appliances to the flame thrower, producing a low blaze to illuminate the way into the dark. What little daylight filtered down from between the canyon walls vanished within a few steps, reducing your world to the shadow of the cyborg before you, and the dewy, fear-filled eyes and uncertain steps of the pirates that followed behind.

Firelight danced over the jagged ceiling as you made the descent, reflecting off the wet stone and fast-flowing rapids thundering mere meters from where you so carefully tread. You tried to focus on where Ezra walked, following in his peg-legged footsteps. If there was a slipperier spot, he would be the first to go.

Or, so you thought.

-crack...splish!-

“Shh!” Ezra hissed for silence, a finger in the air. The firelight danced in his dark eye as he looked for the source of the noise, his ears turned both ways down the tunnel.

….-crick… cRaCK!-

Behind you there was suddenly shouting, the tumble of boulders, the hungry splash of the water swallowing the landslide down as the path behind you collapsed. Clawed hands and gaping mouths broke the illuminated circle of the rapids before vanishing further down the void, taking the pirate’s terrified screams with them.

Rock bit into your back as you were forced against it, watching in horror as half of the designated crew were lost. You waited with ears perked, breath bated for any sound that they had made it to some kind of safety, but you were only met with the roaring of the rapids and the thundering of your heart.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

The affirmation came as a slight surprise, but when you looked down you found you weren't held to the wall by your own volition. Ezra’s strong arm had you pinned as far away from the ledge as he could get you, his eye watching for more of the path to give way. He swallowed a lump in his throat when none presented themselves, and finally met your eyes.

His expression was soft, caring, worried for a moment, a split second of the genuine charmer you had been growing your affections for. The man that snuck you sweets and seared lingering touches on your skin that followed you back to your bunk at night. A man who kissed like it was his last day alive, and loved you when he was certain that it was.

And then he was gone, the creases of his face hardening in a serious scowl, a pirate and a cutthroat once again. Releasing you from his protective grip, he grumbled something about being more careful to the remaining crew, and resumed his journey into the void.

It felt like forever that you were trudging through the dark, your feet becoming accustomed to the slick stone in a way that was more dangerous than helpful, but you made it all the way to where the river ended and split your path in two. On one fork the water dove into the rock, tumbling away towards the center of the moon for all you knew; and the other led away into a dryer cave. With no other choice to make, Ezra plowed down the waterless walkway, a sigh of relief bouncing back to you now that he had more room to walk.

His relief was short lived though, for as the tunnel continued to widen it also started to split. Narrow fissures shot off from your protective halo of torchfire, growing in size every few meters until they were full blown caverns large enough to walk through, and soon they were all that were left of your path - the wheel of fortunes’ spokes as seen from the axle.

Ezra raised his fist, halting your spelunking expedition. He quirked an eyebrow at you, his single eye fixing you with a ‘Well? Now what?’

You spun slowly, taking in each new trail and trying to remember what the map had shown, but as best you could remember it had all been surface level. The river marker, the bends in the forest, the waterfall and the meadow, lush jungle and sprawling canyons, a cavern that you’d expected to be the lair -those you remembered. But nothing like this.

You were just as in the dark as he was.

“Hawkins…” Ez growled, realizing that your double-takes were not just for the picturesque scenery. He flashed that wolfish, dangerous grin of his, a beast in his own dark den greeting prey that had so foolishly wandered through. “I’m not seein’ any aurelac. Actually, I’m not seein’ any anything, except… you. You didn’t just lead us down this hole for the fun of it, did you now?”

Maybe. “No! Not like you can see anything anyway. Give me a moment to think.”

The fire from Ezra’s blazer flared brighter with his agitation, sending shadows flying around the cave. “And why is that exactly? That my vision has been reduced to such a state?”

“Uh I don’t know, maybe because you were going to murder everyone and take over the ship? Ring any bells, metal man?” You jabbed a finger in his broad chest, storming up to him with no restraint. “Don’t make me take the other one out as well!”

He glowered down at you, his remaining eye darker than the void you were consumed by, flashing with the hellfire sputtering from his mechanical arm. “Don’t you threaten me, Hawkins!” He bellowed with a wave of fire, nearly incinerating one of the pirates in the process. “If you’ve sent us on a wild goose chase then so help me I’ll insure that you and daddy dearest meet together sooner rather than-”

The wave of his arm made the firelight sputter just a moment, a faction of a second that let the dark in closer. It’d been held back by the searing flames, but oh how it ached to reach you, to brush your skin and drag icy fingers down your spine, claim you for the inevitable abyss where it would never have to let you go. In that short moment between the light and dark the sunless void took its opportunity greedily, enveloping you in its shadowy embrace and leaning in close enough to whisper a secret in your ears.

Look.

“Ezra shut up and turn your light out.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Turn it off!”

The cyborg snarled at you, his teeth flashing in the glow, furious that he was being ordered around in front of his remaining men, but you were steadfast; and try as he might to put on a ferocious front, the way you stared him down, reduced him from a monster to nothing more than a man, made his heart ache for you.

Reluctantly he obeyed, the bright and hopeful glow of his flame winking out of existence, replaced by a void so black and barren that your soul swore it had been taken to the underworld. You blinked a moment in the abyss, reaching out unconsciously for something to ground yourself on, and found Ezra’s warm body right where you expected it to be. His hand found yours, pulling you close enough that you could feel the warmth of his chest, the slight hitch of his breath giving away his surprise at your touch.

You waited for your eyes to adjust, the darkness behind your lids seeming to hide just a bit more light than the world around you. It was a moment, a few seconds stolen in pitch black privacy, and Ezra took them greedily. You felt the heat of his breath before you felt the touch of his lips, missing your own completely to land on your cheek. Before you could turn and tell him to blow it out his ass, he recalculated and caught your lips, pressing you into a searing kiss.

And damn it straight to hell did it feel good.

The light scratch of his bristles, the plush of his lips, the faint brush of eyelashes when he closed his eye - uselessly still open. His human hand snuck to the small of your back, his hot-iron right kept safely away, but you he wanted to keep close. He inhaled with you, stole your breath for himself - the thief - savoring your shared air in the pocket dimension that had been willed into existence for the two of you alone.

This man made you so angry. He was dangerous, reckless, a literal pirate and mutininer, and yet you gladly melted into him, returning the desire for his kiss with your own. In that quickly stolen moment you felt his entire charade dissipate, writing his truth against your lips. Want and willingness, desire and desperation and something deeper. Something that he kept under tight lock and key when the eyes of others were on you, but still screamed at him from his very core, exploding from its cage in these private little moments like his heart was made of fireworks.

For him, there could be no darkness, as long as he had your light.

“Oi! I seeya lioght down tha tunnal!” One of the pirates chirped, obliterating the quiet tranquilty of your secret embrace. You both opened your eyes and saw it to be true: the faintest illumination coming from what seemed an eternity away, but it was there nonetheless.

You felt more than saw Ezra turn down to you, and heard the crack of his chapped lips splitting into a grin. “Well done, Hawkins. You may yet live to see another day.”

The light came first from the rocks themselves, sprawling swaths of lichen glowing with a soft, otherworldly light - stars twinkling in the twilight zone between the stygian darkness of the cavern and the green-grey daylight filtering from somewhere far away.

You had to shield your eyes as you stepped out of the tunnel even though the light was nowhere near as strong as the surface world, but nearly blinded you nonetheless. With your eyes partially covered, you focused on your other senses, with one in particular coming up front and center on your brain-stage.

Stinky.

Wherever you were headed into reeked of sulfur and brimstone, carrying on the cool cavern air, and if it wasn’t for the pleasant subterranean temperatures you would have sworn you were walking right into an active volcano. When your pupils were brave enough, you let your hand down from your face, blinking as you took in your new surroundings cautiously; a faint gasp escaping your lips at the sight.

“Stars above…”

From high, high above you the light of day shone through the mouth of some crater, a near-perfect circle hidden from the surface by the swaying trees, their roots dangling and dripping into the conical grotto you stood in now. Mineral-rich water trickled and fell for hundreds of feet before landing in the center of the caldera, carving a shallow basin over thousands of years and inviting growth from the surface world to thrive.

Obsidian soil crunched wetly under your boots as you walked into the sanctuary, not watching your step, your eyes too wonderstruck to look down. Thick greenery seemed to grow in piles, mossy and rich, sprawling over the bottom of the grotto and climbing up the walls, reaching for the elusive sunlight reflecting in enormous quartz crystals soaring from the hexagonal basalt walls.

All you saw was beautiful and natural, sculpted by Kevva xerself with more love and adoration than any single star, but in the center of it all something artificial desecrated this holy ground.

Were it not for its obvious straight lines and perfectly machined surfaces, the rusty, overgrown object could have been part of the scenery. It jutted up from the lush green like a middle finger to its surroundings, standing lazily on jointed legs like a drunk that should have gone home hours ago, arguing with the cosmic bartender about last call.

Pretty as it all was, the rank odour was stronger here, making you crinkle your nose. You weren’t really sure what fresh aurelac smelled like, but if it smelled anything like rotten eggs and metallic earth, then you were getting close. Ezra seemed unphased by whatever that stink was, starstruck as he took everything in. He sauntered right past you, trudging through the rivulets of water peacefully carving through the stone towards one of the more lumpy moss mounds. Here, he knelt into the soil and brushed the plush foliage away, and, after a rib-shakingly sharp inhale, he burst into laughter.

“You have got to be shittin’ me!” His baffled roar carried through the volcanic amphitheater, echoing with his own personal laugh track. He leapt up on unsteady legs and plowed towards a second lump, digging happily through the dirt with another excited holler. When he turned around to look at you his face was the picture of delight, big bright eye and an even wider smile crinkling his cheeks. “Aurelac! It’s all aurelac!!”

The remaining pirates flew past you like labradors set loose on the beach, joining their cyborg captain in celebration. A few of them surrounded Ezra to watch him extract the priceless gemstone, but a pair of deviants went right for their own mound. Before Ez could stop them they were plunging their swords into the fleshy growth, eager to get their own share of the bounty.

A meaty slice, a screeching hiss, roars of pain and agony, then silence consumed the cathedral of basalt and brimstone as the overly-ambitious treasure seekers met their deaths in the acidic spray vomited up by the ground dwelling beast.

Ezra only sighed and rolled his eye at the melted faces of his once-crew, their corpses twitching on the warm earth. “If you don’t seduce her properly then she will retaliate with ‘er most wretched defenses, as all women do. Isn’t that right, Hawkins?” He purred with a leer, grinning like a fox at your disgruntled huff. “Worry not, I am a firm believer that no love is too intimidatin’ if’n it be true.”

He settled up to the closest mound and drew his blade, tapping the hollow exterior and listening for the best entry point to carve into. As soon as he made the incision, he poured something from one of his canisters down the hole and covered his face with his coat. “Chem calms the brine, without it, a dry breach will make its claim. Preferably of limbs or life.”

“That how you lost your arm, cyborg?”

“Alas, it was not. Pay ‘tention now.” The aurelac sizzled and squelched for a bit before falling silent, bidding Ezra’s claws into the open wound to retrieve the gem sack. “Oh. Oh Kevva it’s a big one...” He strained a bit, grunting loudly as he tore the opelesent bag from the ground.

It was massive.

“I-I didn’t know they got this big…” he nearly whispered to the bag that was almost as big as his head. He went through the same procedure to remove the meat ball from the center, once again hesitating to make his cuts. “Hawkins, as much as it pains my pride, I do believe I will require assistance.”

There was no room for witty retorts or snide remarks, the object of your quest being so generously presented to you. You knelt in the loam with Ezra, “What do you need me to do?”

“That’s my starling.” He boasted softly, giving you a one-eyed wink. He fished a right-hand glove from his pocket and handed it to you. “The stone is encased in three layers. The first is the formation sack, then the blister, then the membrane. If the blister is punctured it releases carrom acid, and if that comes into contact with the gem it’ll melt and fuck the whole thing sideways. Keep her steady for me’n I’ll free her from her confines.”

Ezra held his blade with both hands, his head tilted off to the right so his bold nose wouldn’t obstruct his singular vision. Worrying his lip between his teeth, he began cutting around the ball, his knife vibrating with the same seductive frequency that had coaxed lucrative treasures from you as well. So that’s what it’s for.

“That’s it, hold it like you love it…” He rounded the ball successfully, nodding at you to pull the empty carcass away while he retrieved another canister, this one of a reddish fluid. “This is fazer, if it touches meat it’ll blow us all to Kevva’s sweet embrace faster’n a bullet to the brain. So I’ll uh, try not to spill.” He dribbled some of the rusty liquid onto the cream-colored glob, humming some indistinct shanty to himself in his excitement, and you couldn’t help but feel it too.

Slowly but surely the tissue fell away, revealing the lemon-sized gemstone and eliciting a unified collection of gasps from everyone present.

It was perfect. Clear as glass with a drop of aurellian sunshine glittering in its heart, the sparkle matching the gleam of Ezra’s eye. “Congratulations, Hawkins. You may have very well made us the richest bunch’a miscreants in the entire known sector. I knew there was a good reason to keep you kickin’.” He pocketed the stone and rose from the ground, dusting himself off and handing trays and canisters to the few crewmates that remained. “Start harvestin’, and under no circumstances may you deviate from my method, lest you plan on joinin’ your face-down friends o’er yonder.”

You waited until the pirates had eagerly dashed out of earshot, loaded down with more gear than brain cells. “You’re brave to trust them with that, Ez.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps, but my eye is givin’ me a helluva fight tryna operate this arm of mine. Need to see to it.” He reached up to fuss with the hole under his bandage, but you stopped him, your hand carefully catching his mechanical wrist.

“Do you want me to take a look at it? I still have two eyes.”

The smile on this man was the kind poets wrote about, soft and sincere and a little skeptical. “Lucky you, huh? Alright, since you’ve so benevolently offered your services, I shall accept.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” You chided, directing him to sit on a tall lump that could have been a boulder as much as another aurelac growth.

“Frequently. Can’t say I understand why though.” He joked, trying to hide his nerves as you approached him. He took his hat off for you, toying with the hole you’d put through it while it rested on his lap. When your hands came up to the bandage he almost jerked away. “You did quite a number on me, starling mine, I can’t promise it’ll look very-”

“Ez. Stop talking, for fucks sake.” Your scolding shushed him, and he sighed dejectedly at your touch. The ratty strip of cloth covering his eye socket was soaked in a multitude of fluids, none of them pleasant. “Damn it Ezra, this is going to get infected. You should’ve let me take care of it earlier.”

“Yes, ma’am…” He closed his remaining eye when the strip fell away, unwilling to see the disgust on your face he believed would be there, but what he didn’t see was your sadness instead. Sure, he’d deserved your attack, your very life and the life of your companions at stake, but his beautiful face was a mess, a delicate, priceless painting marred seemingly beyond repair.

The cybernetic eye was nowhere to be found, probably in his pocket, but the exposed connectors in the back of his empty orbit still needed attention.“Gimme your hand, I need the picks.” You demanded, shuffling closer to him so you were up between his knees. He swallowed and obliged, the jointed tools click click clicking from his mechanical arm. “I’m gonna try not to hurt you, but I can’t promise that I won’t. Just hold still, ok?”

He almost nodded before he agreed verbally, holding his breath while you used his own appendages to debride the wound, clearing chunky scabs and bits of ceramic away from the delicate machinery. Ezra watched you as you worked, torn between closing his eye in comfort and observing the spectacle that was his surprise field medic. Stars, you were so close, literally up between his legs, your breasts grazing his chest from time to time, and he couldn’t help the way his free arm ghosted up to your hip. The moment you felt his touch you scowled at him, but he was quick on the draw. “Just keepin’ ya steady, don’t want you to lose your balance and find my brain while you’re in there.”

“Uh huh, sure.” He was so full of crap, but you had a goal in your hands now, a mission, an objective, the drive to complete it narrowing your focus to your combined hands alone.

Ezra’s brow quirked a bit, studying the spark in your eyes while you fixed his broken face, his lip teased between his teeth as he spotted something familiar. “I recognize that glint… That light behind your eyes. It’s inherited, isn’t it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. I said I was good at fixing things, didn’t I?”

“Nah nah nah, not that, that. That determination. That spark. Brighter’n a supernova, that one. Was the same one I saw in your father’s eyes. You get it from him.”

“I don’t get shit from him! Don’t insult me while I’m digging through your eyehole.” You tried to continue, but now you were both angry and intrigued. “What do you know about him anyway? I didn’t get to know him, why did you?”

Though you were the one dangerously close to his retinal nerve, he was the one that had struck something sensitive. “Hawkins Jr. was a prospector. And a damn good one at that. Took me un’er ‘is wing and taught me all I know in regards to havestin’ aurelac, an odd recompense for shooting me, but it paid well.”

That caught you off guard in more ways than one, and you had to withdraw your tools from his head-hole to meet his subservient gaze. “He shot you?! Where?! Why?!”

“Here.” he said, tapping the humerus strut of his right arm. Your confused glare drew a soft chuckle from him. “I was just a greenhorn prospector, didn’t know the fringeling laws of the territory, and unfortunately I came across an orphaned digsite. Thought it was my lucky day, turns out it wasn’t as abandoned as I’d hoped it was. Took a bullet for it, but I managed to sweet-talk my way out of getting a second. We did our best with the wound but infection claimed my primary weapon, and spread to all you see missin’. Occupational hazard to be fair. Managed to make off with a good couple’a stones though, and your pa helped me pay for replacements.”

The cyborg chuckled nervously through your aghast stare. “Thick as thieves we were, following the rumors of aurelac across worlds, lookin’ for the fabled queen. Never found it, but he never gave up. One day he came upon that map’a yours, whether he stole it, bought it, or drew it himself I’ll never know, but suddenly he didn’t want my company anymore. Was gonna claim it all for himself.”

Ezra’s one eye looked away in shame, unable to meet your piercing inquisition. “The fallout was cataclysmic. Words and metal flew, and before he escaped in the drop ship that he’d spent all our coin on, I managed to get a shot off to her converters, cripping his ship the same way he had crippled me. Ironic, really, but he still got away. Guess he didn’t make it very far after all.”

“Guess not.” Your voice was steely and cold, level as a blade. You began working on his wound again, but he stopped you, wanting to meet your eyes with his own.

“I’m sorry, starling.”

“It’s fine Ez, I barely knew him.”

“No, it’s not fine. He may have been a traitor and a disreputable old scoundrel, but he was still your sire, and to you, his daughter, I truly am sorry for my contribution to his passing. No amount of aurelac is worth the price of life, but I’ll gladly part with all my share of the harvest if it brings you an ounce of solace to whatever grief you still carry, even if it's hidden under all that tenacious ferocity you wield so well. I will say though,” He paused, cupping your jaw, sliding the pad of his thumb along the edge, his touch radiating with pleasant warmth. “That sun-seekers’ glint looks so much better in your eyes than his.”

Ezra may have been a professional liar to his men, but to you, the unexpected light in his life, he told you no falsehoods. You saw it in his beautiful amberdark eye, and the smooth arch of his fine scar, the way the corners of his lips tugged all the crinkles of his weather-worn face into something soft and pliant. He really was sorry.

Probably for more things than one.

“S’ok Ez, let’s just get you patched up and we can figure it out later, yeah?” You pressed a soft kiss to his palm, a ghost of forgiveness that left his heart a little lighter. He gave you dominion over his prosthetic again, his human hand returning to it’s designated spot on your hip. To hold you steady, of course.

Doubling down on your efforts, you tweezed something nasty from his socket, so determined in your operation that the feeling of his fingertips slipping between the hem of your shirt and the top of your belt went unnoticed.

He couldn’t help it. The cyborg’s nervousness calmed at the feel of your skin under his fingers, the warmth of your body, the smoothness of it. He pressed in slightly, testing the give of your flesh, tracing the arch of your hip bone under the plush of your flank. Were he not undergoing such primitive surgery at the moment he might have let his thoughts wander to what else would give under his touch, where else you would spill between his fingers, how you would taste on his tongue...

“Ezra!” You hissed, snapping him from his thoughts. “I can feel your damn dick twitching. Knock it off before I kick you.”

His laugh was as sweet and innocent as the fresh light of dawn. “Apologies, starling mine, I can’t help my wanderin’ thoughts with you pressed so close.”

“Well stop your wandering for a hot minute, I’m almost done. Where’s your eyeball?” His warm touch left you finally to present you the cyberoptic. The moment you had it in your hand, Ezra’s own palm returned to your hip with much less discretion than before. You ignored him. Flecks of dried something-or-other flaked off when you brushed your thumb over the copper colored metal to clean it, knocking another mug chip or two off in the process. “Alright, keep still, and hold your socket open for me.”

You leaned against him to brace yourself, and he accepted you into his space even more willingly, tightening his thighs against yours and drawing his calloused hand up your back, encouraging you into his embrace. The softer metal scraped a bit against the iron of his fingers where he was holding himself open, a grimace twisting his scruffy face when the eyeball popped into place.

He sat back from you, blinking while the false eye went through it’s boot-up, the warm glow slowly returning as if day were breaking for his eyes alone. “Well, I’ll be damned! Hello, gorgeous, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

The pile of aurelac was nearly up to your knees within hours, all shapes and sizes of gemstones to be had and every one of them more perfect than the next. With his eye functional again, Ezra was making short work of every tumorous node he encountered with near-surgical precision and out-digging the others at breakneck speed. Must have had one hell of a mentor.

With him having everything under control, you opted to explore, enjoying the lushious sanctuary before it was pitted with harvesting wounds. The structure in the center drew your attention away from the natural scenery, and you moved to investigate.

The overgrowth was thicker here, lichen and moss giving way to soft, thin-bladed grasses that swayed in the gentle breeze coming down from the crater’s mouth. Water dripped on your head as you went, splashing gently into your hair and trickling down your back. How long had it been since you’d felt rain? It almost never did on Montressor, and you couldn’t help closing your eyes and tilting your head back, enraptured in the soft pitter patter of raindrops kissing your skin. Lost in your guilty pleasure, but still moving towards the pod, you failed to watch your step, tripping dangerously over something hidden that tore you from your aqueous indulgence to glare down at what had reached up to grab you.

Bones.

Human bones.

Whoever it was had been there a while, their clothing long decayed along with their flesh, leaving nothing but a wet, moss-covered skeleton and a scattering of metal fittings from their equipment. Shell-like mushrooms grew in their rib cage in place of their once-beating heart, crawling with all manner of invertebrate life that sought shelter in the absence of it.

You wondered if your father had shot them too.

More careful of your steps now, you approached the little ship, green and silver in the limelight of day, stripped in dark tracts of rust from ages under the drizzle. The thing was surprisingly small, it couldn’t have survived a space journey for more than a few days with barely enough room for two people, and honestly how it got through the atmosphere alone was a mystery. Its struts had sunk partially into the soft, damp earth, the first buds of a new aurelac cluster growing at its feet. It’d been here a while, but probably less than a decade, which didn’t help your suspicions.

You went for the circular bulkhead, the door mechanisms long since grown over, but with a grunt and some elbow grease you got the wheel to turn. It screeched its displeasure as you opened it, years-old pressure finally escaping its prison with a blast of fetid air. For such a pretty place, everything in this cave sure did fucking stink.

Inside the circular drop pod you immediately found a second corpse, though this one was in better shape than the one that’d been left to the elements. In their fleshless hand some kind of firearm pointed away from where they were slouched against the wall, their other hand clutching the hole in their sternum. They had retained most of their clothing, though the decrepit fabric wrinkled and sagged where flesh had once been, but the colorful patches were still as vivid as the day they’d been sewn on. None of them were familiar, though from their bright hues and easy-to-discern shapes you guessed they were sponsor logos, and though all of them were completely alien to you, one of them you unfortunately recognized: a fat, six legged creature wearing a spacesuit.

Something Ezra said clicked in your mind like a pistol’s hammer:

Words and metal flew.

“Anythin’ good in here, starling?” Ezra’s sweet southern drawl snapped you out of your concentration, the cyborg clambering in through the narrow door with a smile on his face. It vanished when he spotted the body. “Poor bastard, but that’s prospecting for you. Not everyone’s as fortunate as I was.” He glanced around the room a bit, taking in the state of things. “Looks better from the inside by a long shot. If I was a bettin’ man I’d say a lil’ bit of TLC would get this bird in the air again, or maybe just as far as the hole in the ceilin’. Be a shitload easier than haulin’ all that aurelac back through the tunnels.” He fixed you with that cockeyed grin, a flash of inspiration in his newly-repaired eye. “Think you could fix it?”

You shrugged, “Worth a shot I guess, though it’s nothing like anything I’ve ever seen on Montressor. There’s no sails on it.”

“That’s because it’s not from Montressor, or even Crescentia. It’s Terran.”

Terran!

The birthplace of your species and his. And your father’s and his father before him. You’d never been, most rumors said it wasn’t even there anymore, but humans - in their unending search for the edges of the cosmos - had settled on so many worlds that Terran would always live on in your hearts after it had long since been wiped from the star maps.

How strange it was - or, maybe how fitting - that nearly every interaction you’d had with your own kind had been thoroughly soaked in blood.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Leaving you to your own devices, Ezra fixed his sights on the largest of pods, a devious smile skewing his bristly lips. Though he’d harvested enough aurelac to last a thousand lifetimes, he didn’t come this far, sacrifice so much, to leave with anything less than the motherlode.

His canisters were running dry, but it was probably enough for one last harvest. The lump he set his sights on sprouted from the farthest wall, so full and heavy that it swelled pregnantly over the ground, alluding to the biggest root pearl ever grown.

He just had to have it.

Carving with rehearsed precision, Ezra had the queen ravaged within moments, locating the milky white bag deep within the pod. His hunch proved correct, albeit challenging, requiring two hands to pull the monstrosity free; the strain making him giggle like a school boy.

The aurelac squeaked and screamed with the intrusion, a sound the cyborg had long gone deaf to, so focused on his prize. Digging his peg and heel into the soft soil, he braced himself and hauled, throwing his weight backwards against the aurelac’s colossal heft. Kevva’s concubines the fucker must be bigger than a newborn bonzabeast.

Pop!

Ezra fell back on his ass when he finally pulled the gem sack free, nearly crushed under the slimy weight. Excitement kicked in, and he set to work on the extraction, ignoring the queen’s protests as he cut the umbilical line and plonked the pearl pouch into a field tray, the disgusting treasure so massive that it sagged over the edges.

Everything he’d ever worked for was right in his mismatched hands, the disgusting slosh of the meat bag like music to his ears. The wet fleshy sound and the hum of his blade, paired with his own tuneless humming and the imagined jingling of coin in his pocket was all he could hear, and all that he wanted to hear. A siren song of a man’s life’s work coming to fruition rendering him nearly deaf.

So he heard not the gurgling of the queen’s death throes.

Not the crackle as it withered and died, the open fissure of the wound curling into the gaping hole.

Not the faint grit of the volcanic soil slipping ever so slightly into the void created by the creature’s death.

And certainly not the faintest crack as the basalt column above the ancient animal succumbed to its own weight, moving barely a hairsbreadth, but even the smallest domino can topple the greatest kingdoms.

No, Ezra didn’t hear any of these things, too busy washing the last of the membrane off the gigantic geode with the remainder of his fazer fluid. Free of the mucky tissue, he stumbled to his feet and held the aurellian prize aloft, catching a stray sunbeam just as you had done when you revealed the map and oh, what a sight!

All eyes in the grotto turned to their captain and his prismatic light show, the basketball-sized chunk of aurelac washing every surface of the sanctuary in golden light, nearly bringing the cyborg to tears. Fuck, it was bea-utiful.

The glorious enchantment flared and faded with the sudden loss of the sun, and for the first time since tapping the queen, Ezra listened.

And looked up.

“Mother FUCKER!!”

A faint woosh was all that accompanied the massive quartz monolith as it fell, unbelievably bigger up close now that it was plummeting to the ground and heading straight for Ezra’s head. He practically danced out of the way, limbs flailing, white and bright of his eyes flashing as he scrambled to get to safety before the ten-ton crystal crashed into the earth and splintered into radiant shrapnel.

Ezra never moved so fast in his entire life, clutching the heavy aurelac to his chest as he ran from the sudden impact strike. The ground split and spiderwebbed like glass instead of stone, fracturing the delicate sanctuary into shards as more and more of the crystals came loose and toppled to the earth. Pirates desperately tried to get out of the way in time. Some succeeded, only to slip into the growing gorges that grew wider and wider with each cataclysmic strike.

As the walls crumbled around him, the cyborg bee-lined for the aurelac stash, shoveling as many into his pockets before a chunk of towering basalt toppled, nearly pressing him flat before he dodged it, obliterating the remains of the treasure.

All that work, for nothing.

“STAAARLING!! Get that damn engine going, we gotta go!!” Ezra plowed through the bulkhead of the pod, startling you out of your technical trance more than the earthquakes you’d been ignoring.

“I don’t think it can! I-I don’t have the tools to-”

“Tell me what you need! Right now!” Ezra flung himself to his knees next to where you were under the dash, his arm at the ready.

With his help you made split-second work of the wire harness under the dash that had been giving you a hard time, and the shuttle sparked to life not a moment too soon.

-*CRaSH!*-

A monumental quartz obelisk met the ruined ground, breaking through the obsidian as if it were made of ice, splintering the last of the grotto’s resolve. The pod listed dangerously to one side, tilting into the new hole to catch precariously between the edges, finally pulling the curtain back on what smelled so fucking bad.

Crimson flames licked greedily from the worlds’ wounds as the inactive volcano -long hidden by the scab of vegetation - was resurrected from the force of the impact, molten stone bubbling excitedly as demons do when the gates of hell are thrown open.

Sweaty with fire and fear, you threw switches and cranked knobs, hoping some divinity would take pity on you and guide you through the alien craft’s start up procedures on luck alone. Something other than the earth rumbled it’s fury under you, the propulsion jets sputtering to life after so many years in the grave.

You jammed down on the throttle, and the pod nicked clear of its wedging, but not enough to get it fully off the ground. “It’s too heavy! It’s not gonna make it!”

Ezra exploded in a storm of curses and hefted the skeleton out the bulkhead, along with whatever else wasn’t bolted down. It worked some, and the little pod strained away, still struggling under the weight of more than time.

But not enough.

If the pod didn’t clear the rising tide of lava, or the collapsing caldera, you were done for. Ezra’s circuits crackled as his brain did the math, meeting his own reflection in the crystalline surfaces of the aurelac gem that he’d suffered so much to get.

It was heavy.

But, so were you.

‘Throw her out’ said the demon on his shoulder, purring in his remaining ear. ‘She’s gonna turn you in anyway, and you’ll be swingin’ from the gallows in no time. Not like she cares about you. Not like she loves you! Or you her! You love money, you love aurelac! Gold and Glory! Finish what you started, Ezra Green! Take the aurelac and run!’

But Ezra never was a very good listener.

He went for the aurelac in his pockets first, hoping that just a slight lessening in weight would be all the push you needed to get to the skylight, but that did nothing. Pebbles, stones, geodes, and melon sized nuggets of glittering gold sailed out into the hellfire, vanishing under the molten tide.

Until all he was left with was the queen’s crown itself.

One last glance, one last demonic whisper, one last pining look between the two objects of his affections, of a lifelong love and a potential love for life.

Plunk!

The gemstone sank sluggishly into the hungry flames, and the effect on the pod was instantaneous, as if it had suddenly been loosed from its cage. “Hold on Ez!” You bellowed while you tried to steer with levers and fins instead of a wheel or rudder. The little microwave-sized window was all the visibility you had to dodge the incoming chunks of stone raining from above. Falling like a chandelier cut from a ballroom ceiling, the remaining quartz chunks sparkled as they fell, glass shards peppering hard against your steel exterior and nearly throwing you off course.

Now, where have you seen this before…

Breathe in.

You set your sights on the circle of sky above, on the cracks growing on either side like a sleepy giant’s eye slowly opening. Waking up to greet you before having you for breakfast.

Breathe out.

Rocks the size of houses crumbled from the crater, flying past your viewport as you threw your weight into the steering, spiralling the tiny pod between the sinking boulders.

Breathe in.

The caldera collapsed, the lava surged, all was red and black and glittering gold for less time than it took to fill your lungs. You snapped the steering to starboard right as the gargantuan gateway plunged towards gravity, the ship narrowly avoiding being swatted from the sky like nothing more than a pesky little insect.

Free of all that kept it contained, the volcano erupted in a pyroclast of scorn, sending flaming chunks of molten stone exploding past you, trailing phoenix feathers of fire in their wake.

Alarms flared, sirens screamed, and lights flashed their finality on the dashboard as the aft jets sputtered and died, pointing the pod towards the startled jungle and furious earth. With nothing left to lose, Ezra coiled his arms around you and your seat, hoping maybe his reinforced body would be enough to protect you from the coming crash.

But it never came.

Breathe out???

The skull-splitting shriek of metal being torn asunder stung your ears and made your teeth hurt, made worse by the sudden whiplash of the pod being pulled in the opposite direction. Suddenly growing from the thin titanium wall, the biggest harpoon you had ever seen went through one side of the little shuttle and out the other, swinging the shuttle down and under and over a mighty vessel like a pendulum as it was hauled against its inertia and dropped violently into something hard.

The Dawnbreaker, mighty and true, caught the pod with her deck, the monstrosity breaking halfway into the galley and spilling you and the cyborg from the durasteel coffin, landing in a heap in front of the quarterdeck and her captain.

“Tillie?! Fiona?!”

“Welcome aboard, landlubbers!” Tillie, wearing someone else's tricorn, hollered and saluted you from her position at the wheel, the ship’s true captain leaning against the harpoon thrower behind her - the old bird looking a little green. “You’re not gonna believe what happened to us! We were trussed up like hogs for the slaughter when Fiona here-”

“Incoming! Hard to port!!”

The Felinid cranked on the wheel just in time to miss a massive glob of superheated rock as it flew by, the volcano erupting violently behind you, demolishing the sanctuary, the tunnels, the river, the canyon and the meadow in a single quake. Volleys of stone shrapnel hailed against the Dawnbreaker’s sails, punching flaming holes in the delicate sailcloth and turning the deck into a pockmarked ruin.

“Get us out of here, Til!” You shrieked, muscle memory kicking into high gear and driving you to the lifeline hitchpost. You grabbed a rope for yourself and tied it off, then held one out for Ezra. “Ez! Get over here and-”

“CABIN GIRL!” The line in your hand was claimed by the spider in the web, enormous claws threatening to sever your hands from your body when they clamped around your wrists. You felt your blood drain when you were met with the most horrendous pair of big yellow eyes and a mouth full of saliva-slicked fangs. Mr. Skarn towered over you on many-jointed legs, forcing you backwards as he overpowered you. “Where’sss the aurelac?! Give it to me and I might let you-!”

-*BANG!*-

The monster blinked, confusion written in his heinous eyes and leaking from the fresh new hole between them. The tension on your wrists lessened and fell away as Mr. Skarn crumpled to the ground, revealing the figure behind him, firearm smoking from his wrist.

“Never did like that bug much.” Ezra drawled, blowing at the barrel before swapping his prosthetic for his jointed hand. “You alright, starling mine?”

You made to answer when the shifting of the ship stole all the air from your lungs, throwing you hard to starboard as acting-captain Tillie Doppler veered hard on the wheel to avoid the ground coming up to meet you, the moon thrashing its death throes like a drowning victim not wanting to go down alone. You hit the deck, your lifeline snapping hard around your middle, constricting the last of your breath from your lungs but keeping you lashed safely to the ship.

Ezra was not so lucky.

The roll dislodged the Terran pod free from its crater in the deck, tumbling with the pitch of the ship and taking its harpoon line with it as it rolled towards the edge. The cable whipped across the wood - a furious serpent spitting venom and fury - catching Ezra’s iron leg before the pod vanished over the side.

He had a split second to drive his claws into the deck, carving gouges in the wood as he was dragged overboard, the iron in his body the only thing keeping him from being ripped in half as the line snapped taut, leaving the cyborg dangling over the edge, held by nothing but his unyielding grip.

“Ezra!” you screamed and flew to him, digging your heels into the guardrails and pulling with all your might on his cybernetic arm - only part of him you could reach. “Give me your other hand!!”

Ezra, eyes wide with fear and pain, looked from his captured leg to the swinging pod, then up to where his arm was lodged in the Dawnbreaker’s hull, and finally to you. He couldn’t sever the line without his blade, and if the shuttle caught on the trees it would rip the Dawnbreaker from the sky, or rip him in half trying.

There could be no other way.

The fear on his face was replaced with something softer under his wind blown curls and suddenly-missing hat, the ratty tricorn succumbing to the raging storm building over the volcano. One eye a ray of sunshine, the other a sparkling pool of dark earth, met your own with all the placidity of a willing sacrifice approaching the altar.

And suddenly you’d never known as much terror as you did right now.

His scruffy lips quirked, a flash of a smile, a small, gentle laugh inappropriate for such a precarious situation, but nothing ever looked so good on him as the face he had now, his eyes laying lastly on the most beautiful visage he’d ever had the fortune of setting his gaze upon:

You.

“Shine bright, starling mine.”

In a last act of human decency, his free hand came up and dug into his armpit, unfettering his prosthetic from his body. Then he was hurtling to the ground, leaving his arm buried in the hull while the pod dragged him down to certain death, leaving the Dawnbreaker to speed off towards the stars and far away from the dying moon.

And then he was gone.

<-Previous Next->

TAGLIST:

@mrsparknuts @cookiejuicedesu @kotemorons @ironbabey @theflightytemptressadventure @emesispo @what-iwish-youknew @misscamptl @t3a-bag @poppunkdee @misscamptl @pandastasia @simpingmess @lilychristine01 @inaturenymph @buttercup--bee @blackdogdesignuk @tanzthompson @transientblueseraph

@beskarboobs @sunnnygiiirl123 @doin-stuff @marvelranger @ajeff855 @pintsizemama @dincrypt @booksarekindaneat @giselatropicana @yours-truly-r @babybelou @mindidjarin @221bshrlocked @readsalot73 @mandocrasis @novemberrain221

@moodsare @thepoisonofgod @littlemisspascal @insomniamamma @ajeff855 @hrk-fic-recs @screechingnutrunaway @mandoblowmybackout @mswarriorbabe80 @iwantadecentblogname @wildmoonflower

#ezra prospect #prospect 2018 #treasure planet #pedro pascal #ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra x self insert #crossover #solisequious

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writer-of-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Just A Business Deal (Pt. 4)

College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word count: 1, 753 words.

Summary: You and Bucky make a business deal to get married for the benefits. More financial aid for college, sharing the apartment rent and keeping your mind off of a heartbreak, what could go wrong?

Warnings: It's all pretty innocent stuff actually. This is going to be looooong so beware.

Author's note: Hello! I am back! Thank you for your patience. Also, although this chapter is mild please DO NOT interact with this if you're not 18 years or older because future chapters might not be PG-13. Also please don't steal any of my work!! Thank you!

y/n = your name ---- y/l/n= your last name ---- Mx. = gender neutral for your choosing!

You laid in your bed smiling with the leftover excitement of the day. You toy with the hem of your shirt as you reminisce the events of today.

After you and Bucky got married, you decided to celeberate by eating tacos at your local taquería. The lady that always served you smiled with excitement when she saw the rings on your fingers.

"Finally!" she exclaimed and offered you a free meal.

After she left, the both of you turned to each other and laughed at the silliness of the comment.

"Can you imagine?" Bucky asked, mouth filled with food. "You and I actually getting married?"

You scrunch your face and playfully shoved his shoulder from across the booth.

"Oh please, you would be lucky to be married to me." You replied.

"Did you forget doll? I am married to you." He laughed and looked into your eyes.

You shook your head with a light smile on your face. A comfortable silence settled in between the two of you as you finished your food.

You decided that the next best thing that you could do to celebrate your "marriage" was to go bowling. Bucky drove you in his car and you guys sang your favorite songs at the top of your lungs. The windows were rolled down and you felt the nice breeze on your face.

You arrived at the place and settled into your bowling lane. You were about to type in your name on the screen when Bucky called out to you.

"Wait, hang on a sec. Close your eyes," he said grabbing you by the shoulders and moving you next to the screen.

"Buck what are you doing?" you giggled.

"Ok, open them!" He said proud of his little antic.

You laughed as you saw the names displayed now on the big screen.

Mr. y/l/n

Mx. Barnes

"Get ready to get crushed!" Bucky exclaimed while rolling up his sleeves.

He walked towards the bowling balls and carefully weighed each one until he found the perfectly balanced one. He sauntered towards the alley and concentrated on his move.

You took a second to appreciate Bucky's carefree attitude. You remembered the first years after the accident when he would hide his prosthetic arm. He would always wear long sleeves and gloves which he claimed were for "poor circulation" to whoever asked. It was nice to see him finally feeling confident in himself.

Your gaze scanned his form and marveled at how well the suit fits him. It has been years since you've seen him dressed up and you can admit he was a handsome guy. The person who ends up marrying him will be lucky, you thought to yourself.

Your snapped out of your thoughts as you heard the pins collide with each other and fall down, giving Bucky a perfect strike.

"Ha! Beat that," he pointed at you and sat down next to you.

You stood up and copied Bucky by carefully selecting the bowling ball you'd choose for the night.

You continued playing round after round. Somewhere along the fifth round one of you ordered beer and began drinking. Your precision decreased but the fun only seemed to increase.

You played until an employer had to kick you guys out. You felt sorry for the kid, he was a teenager and seemed obviously scared of Bucky. You smiled at the worker, apologized for the inconvenience and dragged Bucky by the arm.

The cool air of the night was refreshing to your face. You inhaled the fresh air and closed your eyes too engulfed in the moment to notice Bucky staring at you.

"So, Uber or Steve?" you asked with your eyes still closed.

"Uh, what?" Bucky was too busy looking at your peaceful face to hear what you asked.

"Neither one of us is in good shape to drive. So," you repeated turning towards Bucky. "Uber or Steve?"

"Oh, uh Uber" he replied pulling out his phone from his pocket. "Steve will definitely ask too many questions about us so, best to avoid" he said. His Brooklyn accent becoming thicker with the alcohol in him.

You simply nodded and placed your hands in your pockets for a little bit of warmth.

The two of you waited a couple minutes for the Uber and went home. It was already midnight by then and you two decided to turn in once you reached your place.

You were about to go in your room when Bucky grabbed you by the arm.

"Wait," he said turning you around.

You stared at him expectantly, noticing the closeness that you had. You could smell his scent of mint and a touch of alocohol on his breath.

"Goodnight doll," he said and kissed your forehead. He turned around and went into his room, locking the door behind him.

You stood in the doorway for a few second until you followed suit and went inside as well. You went into the shower, changed into your pajamas and carefully hung your "wedding" dress.

You stared at the wedding rings on your left hand. The light reflecting on the little gems that adorned the band. It was a beautiful ring, you were amazed at how well it suited your style. You stared at it for a second and then carefully removed it and placed it on your jewelry box. The color of the ring making a beautiful contrast with the red velvet that covered the box.

This is where you were, thinking about the day with a smile that could not be wiped from your face. It took a while but eventually the excitement faded and you fell asleep.

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

Life is about balance, the ying yang and what not. Which is why it makes sense for today to go horrible for you. One perfect day, one nightmare-ish day.

You woke up late since you forgot to chrage your phone the night before. Your class started in thirty minutes which only gave you enough time to quickly change and rush to your class. Your normal routine of showering and having breakfast flowing out the window.

You quickly changed into sweatpants and a hoodie you found laying on the floor. You grabbed your backpack and rushed towards the door.

"Wow easy there, where's the fire?" Bucky joked.

"I'm late for class which would not have happened if I had remembered to charge my phone but because someone decided to get us home late and drunk I forgot and the alarm didn't go off. I also have an exam right now which I didn't study because I was too busy getting married to you." You said grabbing your car keys and putting on your shoes.

"Hold up, what? You're saying this is my fault?" Bucky replied. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and furrowed his brow.

"Yes, I-uh. I don't know, maybe" you said and rushed out the door without a goodbye. You knew it wasn't his fault and he didn't deserve to be yelled at. You mentally cursed yourself and decided you will make it up to him by bringing home donuts for him.

You got into your car and rushed out of the house. To your dismay, it seemed as though everyone left the house at the same time because you were now stuck in traffic. You managed to get to campus with five minutes to spare. Your professor was the type to close the door and not let anyone in on exam days.

"Everyone made the effort to be here on time, it is not fair to distract the other students for your tardiness," he told the class on your first day.

You managed to get to class on time. You were panting and sweaty from the run. A slight red tinted your cheeks when the professor stopped mid-sentence and waited for you to sit down.

You finished the exam- which you struggled with the entire time- and were fighting a terrible headache from the "wedding" hangover.

You had two classes that day but, having an essay due the next day, you decided to stay on campus to finish your assignment. That is when you realized you left your laptop at home and couldn't do your essay as you planned.

Defeated, you walk towards the cofee shop to order your favorite drink in hopes of cheering you up. The shop was almost empty except for the lady at the register, a few students on their computers and three people on the line with you.

After the girl in front of you ordered, you walked towards the cashier.

"Hi!" you say faking a cheer "can I please get a hazelnut coffee with whipped cream?" you ask.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said with a pitying tone "we're out of hazelnut and whipped cream."

With a sigh you settled for a plain coffee. You opened your backpack to look for your wallet but you couldn't find it. You opened every pocket and moved every item you had, you even checked the inside of your phone case just in case you had money there but to no avail. You shot the lady- who was looking between you and the man behind you expectantly- an embarrassed look.

"I'm sorry," you said to both the lady and the guy behind you. "I must've forgotten my wallet at home."

"Here, it's ok. This one's on me." The man behind you stretched his credit card to the lady who happily took it. He placed his order as well.

"Thank you, really but I can't have you do that," you told him hurriedly. He reminded you a little bit of Steve. He was blonde with blue eyes but different than Steve's caring eyes or Bucky's beautiful ones. The man had a look which you couldn't place just yet but he seemed caring as well, or at least that's what you thought.

"It's ok, it seems like you're having a rough day today. It's the least I can do. Besides," he continued flashing you a smile, "I can't have someone as pretty as you in distress."

You opened your mouth to respond but the lady interrupted you.

"Here you go!" The lady gave you both your drinks and bid you a good day.

"I promise, I'll pay you back." You told him, thankful for the stranger in front of you.

"You can sit down with me and I'll consider it even." He told you.

You thought about it for a second and realized there was no harm in that. He picked a booth and you both sat down.

"So what's your name?" he asked.

"I'm y/n" you told him after taking a sip of your coffee. "And you?"

"I'm John, John Walker."

Just a Business Deal tag list: Thank you for replying the other post, I think I fixed it!

@toothhurtyam @mxrvelinhrt @vicmc624 @bbgem329 @moviequeen51

#bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #john walker #james barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you

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malachi-walker · 3 years

Note

Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

#answers #rhythm & blues #the catradora rockstar au #featuring adora's big gay realization #and also fantasy christmas

137 notes · View notes

cattles-bians · 3 years

Text

damie vibecca exes au part 8

post directory

obsetress: now i just want fanart of damvibecca at the gym

em: well. pitch it to me comrade ghostfucker

obsetress: idk that's about as far as i got i just reread that bit about vibecca in their matching gym outfits and my brain got stuck

em: hypothetically do u have a colour palette in mind bc i associate gym outfits w like. bright loud colours and

em: idk if it works w our earth sign queens

[em note: emily is a liar and did NOT draw fanart of damvibecca at the gym]

[em note 2: we have the gym art now [x] [x]]

obsetress: i was imagining like charcoals tbh, or jewel tones

obsetress: i could see them in like jewel tone purples or that jewel tone blue green color

obsetress: yeah viola jewel tones or blacks n charcoals

obsetress: becs pastels and camels but jewel tones at the gym

em: it’s about Matching

em: And Destroying Ur Ex (platonically)

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: viola's feeling particularly smug about it but then

obsetress: dani's in an old school tshirt and shorts and jamie's in............ one of dani's old school tshirts and shorts

em: YES

obsetress: not intentionally, she just grabbed whatever was there

obsetress: dani chirps "oh you two look so cute! baby look, they have a matched set"

obsetress: viola arches an eyebrow "and so do you, it seems" and dani laughs "not on purpose, jamie just grabbed whatever was on top in the drawer"

viola: you two... share... a wardrobe?

dani: yeah?

em: god cute

obsetress: cute n dumb

em: they can share nearly everything except pants

em: well. pants as a treat

em: haha pants

em: trousers

obsetress: also rly nice rly clean smooth funny juxtaposition in my brain of vibecca being the ones who intentionally match and damie the ones for whom it just accidentally happens

obsetress: hahahah pants

obsetress: they can share pants but................ should they

em: idk miss chapter 12 danis thighs jamies pyjamas

em: should they

obsetress: PLEASE

obsetress: that's exactly what i was referring to THANKS

obsetress: anyway

obsetress: rebecca just laughs

obsetress: viola huffs and bex is like "sorry, babe, but it is kind of funny"

em: dani jamie wearing like

obsetress: YEAH

obsetress: MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY

em: poor viola

obsetress: thinking about dani's ass in those

em: yeah....

em: violas huffing until jamies exercise flush lasts a little Too Long

obsetress: big blush jamie taylor

em: she’s still like ‘oi dani close ur mouth’ but then she

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: just ogling each other

obsetress: (they briefly pause to ogle vi and rebecca passing a medicine ball back and forth as they do squats and have to acknowledge that, yeah, they've all done alright by themselves)

em: funny montage of the gang doing exercise while surreptitiously taking Peaks

obsetress: omg all i want

obsetress:sometimes having friends as a lesbian means they're all your exes except one, who's your gf, and you're all checking each other out always anyway

And That’s Beautiful

obsetress

obsetress: dani: checking out viola's biceps, rebecca's abs

viola: checking out dani's thighs n ass

rebecca: minding her business

jamie: scowling n scrawny

obsetress:(n also checking out dani's thighs n ass, viola's biceps, and begrudgingly peeking at rebecca's abs)

obsetress: every other woman at the gym: checking out jamie, trying to figure out the entire dynamic here

are they a polycule? what

em: jamie probably like

em: maybe she gets really into running bc she just checks out and listens to her audiobooks but like

em: slow twitch vs fast twitch fibers so stays scrawny

obsetress: i can see that

obsetress: just gets on the treadmill and zones tf out

em: jamie ‘why don’t i have biceps’ taylor vs jamie ‘no u gotta lift w ur hips’ taylor

obsetress: she hates it but her psych told her it'll be good for her routine so you know she was like yes ma'am every day ma'am

em: cant believe safe lifting procedures screwed her over

em: ‘yes ma’am every day ma’am’ ur just Going for it arent ya anshdjdh

obsetress: sorry but don't tell me you can't hear it

obsetress: jamie's the person who takes notes in therapy

obsetress: jamie, in the locker room after their workout: do my biceps look bigger?

dani, patiently, already knowing where this is going: bigger than what, baby?

jamie: than yesterday

dani: mm, rome wasn't built in a day, you know

jamie: do they look bigger at all?

dani: well

em: i mean not to perceive her too much but mattresses scene indicates AE/jamie like. at least some muscle in the leg area

em: poor jamie

em: not playing to her strengths

obsetress: yeah she does

obsetress: i mean ae has toned af arms

obsetress: she's just wiry

em: how could i forget the benchpressing dog gif

obsetress: dani's like "jamie, baby, come do squats with me and vi" "m'good" "baby, c'mon, you'll like it" "don't wanna do squats" "it could be good for you" "don't wanna do squats with you two"

em: dani: you gotta like. eat more

jamie: i eat plenty

dani: no u graze all day and then u don’t eat dinner

obsetress: dani: five biscuits spread out across a day doesn't count as eating more

em: dani: protein jamie it’s abt protein

obsetress: dani: you need more protein, which is why i think some lentils would really––

em: jamie thinks protein shakes are Nasty

obsetress: jamie does think protein shakes are nasty but dani will make her a smoothie and sneak it in like she's a child

obsetress: viola and rebecca, with their matching monogrammed blender bottles, just staring

obsetress: becca's like "jamie, just drink it, really, it's fine"

obsetress: viola just does this haughty sniff at her and that's what finally gets jamie to start

em: jamie can deal w being a brat but the idea of viola having Anything over her drives her Insane

em: Drives Her Fuckign Nuts

obsetress: she hates it

obsetress: just the absolute fuckin worst

em: do u think dani ever like

em: like they REALLY need to clear out storage but it’s a boiling frog situation where it’s increased so gradually that

em: like jamie thinks it’s Fine storage is Clear Enough

em: it’s Not

em: danis like. should we invite rebecca and vi over

em: just be Idea of A Snide Viola Comment fills jamie w a burning rage

obsetress: oh my god

obsetress: i'm obsessed with this

obsetress: i would read a whole oneshot about this

em: eventually dani comes clean abt it n jamie thinks it’s v funny bc yknow; open and honest communication is a v important part of their dynamic

em: jamie: next time just tell me my storage looks like shite dani or i will be grumbling abt viola for a Week

obsetress: inevitably

obsetress: when they do have to come over to clean

obsetress: dani offers them takeout and wine ("step up from pizza and beer at least," jamie grumbles) and viola's like "jesus, dani, let's just go out to dinner. my treat"

obsetress: at dinner, viola's like "if you want more storage, i have some wonderful properties––"

obsetress: rebecca's mouthing "sorry" from next to her across the table

em: every time they go out rebecca takes vi aside n is like ok sweetheart so you promise you’re not gonna try convince them to sell the apartment again

em: and violas like (mock horror) of course i won’t. ye of little faith

em: and every time

em: every time she does

em: she’s tryna HELP

obsetress: she would too she'd be like

obsetress: "i'm just trying to HELP"

obsetress: "they're our FRIENDS"

em: i’m on a mission to figure out like

em: this is way way down the line

em: but i wanna believe eventually viola and jamie start to, at the v least, Tolerate each other

em: jamie might even be fond of the crazy bird but she’ll NEVER admit it

obsetress: god like vi's on business or some shit in like

obsetress: the UAE

obsetress: negotiating some Deal

obsetress: and so dani and jamie get dinner with just bex and they're driving home after and having a perfectly mundane conversation and then jamie's just blurting like

obsetress: "i think i miss vi"

em: she’s HORRIFIED

em: she tries to play it off as like um

em: she’s Too Comfortable

em: things are Too Boring

em: which is weird knowing everything we know abt jamie

em: but actually she just... maybe misses viola

em: danis like god i wish i was recording this

obsetress: jamie's passed out next to her at home later (it's ten pm) and dani's chattering happily away on the phone with vi (drinking a martini in her dubai hotel room at one am since, y'know, no bars) in bed right next to her

obsetress: "jamie, uh, said she misses you. i know. no, i KNOW. don't tell her i told you. yeah, yeah, you win, vi, we know. uh-huh. uh-huh. i'm gonna pretend you didn't just ask me that"

em: CUTE

em: u can’t lord it over her vi it’s a little secret

em: vi's like when have i EVER

em: she does

obsetress: once they're good again, dani and vi absolutely just. lose time (there's a metaphor in there) talking to each other still

em: this is wholesome tbh

em: i really like the damie stories where like

em: look it’s nice when damie have each other but it’s also nice when they have their own friends and stuff

em: dunno how to articulate that well

em: it’s a balance! it’s a balance

obsetress: yeah! exactly

obsetress: because that's part of the love n possession thing too yk

obsetress: not to say either of them would ever be like "no friends for you" but

obsetress: wanting to have a life outside of your partner yk

obsetress: they're meeting vi and rebecca for dinner after vi gets back and vi's just grinning and sweeping jamie into a hug "i heard you missed me"

em: she gets jamie a souvenir t-shirt

em: it’s too big

em: OR

em: child’s t-shirt

obsetress: (jamie sleeps in it that night)

obsetress: oh childs might be better

obsetress: she's like "you're a little scrawny, so..."

em: jamie sleeps in it.... soft bitch

em: she feels too much

obsetress: jamie taylor softest bitch

obsetress: dani watches her pull it on and raises an eyebrow and jamie's just like "wot"

em: jamies like (grumbles) i knew she was comin back i’m just

em: shouldn’t you be HAPPY about this development dani

em: ‘s’a gift... s’rude not t’....’

obsetress: YEAH

obsetress: dani just grins "mmhm"

em: it accidentally makes its way into jamies workout clothes pile

obsetress: oh my GOD oh my god

obsetress: viola's shit eating GRIN when jamie shows up at the gym in it

em: jamies like fok

em: mental maths tryna figure if she wants to just. work out in a sports bra

em: she Doesn’t

obsetress: she Doesn't!

obsetress: (she's shy)

em: god it’s one of those shirts that’s like

em: someone who loves me went to UAE and got me this t-shirt or something

obsetress: dani corners her in their empty row in the locker room "you could've just taken it off, you know" "dunno, not everyone needs to... see that, you know?" "i'd certainly like to see it" jamie rolls her eyes but she's grinning "you can see that any time" "well maybe i wanted to see it during my workout" "dani......."

em: jamies embarrassed bc of her gnarly farmers tan means her tummy is at least five shades lighter than the rest of her

em: crisp tan lines

obsetress: god jamie's farmers tan

em: once again i am bringing my tan lines jamie agenda

obsetress: dani loves jamies dumb farmers tan so much

obsetress: she giggles

obsetress: but it's the most loving giggle possible

em: and then when she gets into running...

em: god when i was rowing there were a couple ppl w like what i called a neapolitan icecream tan which is

em: gimme a second

obsetress: jamie gets all huffy when dani giggles at her tan but then dani's like "baby, no, i think it's cute" and jamie gives her a look and dani grins mischievously and ducks her head

obsetress: and then she's licking and kissing and nipping her way along jamie's dumb tan lines

em: there it is

obsetress: it was inevitable

em: so caught up in the joy of jamies dumb farmer tans i forgot abt her gnarly scar she keeps under wraps

em: baby

em: the most baby

obsetress: baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

em: jamie decides the only way to claim the stupid t-shirt as hers is to cut off the sleeves

em: it’s abt the ritual of the thing

obsetress: she shows up at the gym wearing it and

obsetress: that's viola's "oh no she's hot" moment

em: YEAH BABY

obsetress: literally just like

obsetress: world stops

obsetress: viola stares

em: jamie finally gets to do an exercise that shows off her sinewy manual labor grip forearms

em: viola’s probably just as horrified to find jamie hot as every time jamies like oh no

em: violas hot

em: and once again jamie CANNOT know she’s hot bc she will be insufferable

em: she will be the Worst

obsetress: viola's tugging rebecca aside "why didn't you tell me jamie was hot" "what?" viola waves a hand and rebecca just furrows her brow a little and is like "that's just... what she looks like, vi"

obsetress: viola corners dani next "why didn't you tell me jamie was hot" "i did" "oh. right" viola pauses, then "why didn't you make sure i was listening?" dani just gives her a look and walks away

obsetress: dflksdjfldaj god the way jamie and viola are. the same

obsetress: kind of incredibly, in the same ways dani and rebecca are the same

em: “hey baby, did viola seem different today? seemed off”

em: jamies like. is she mad at me. did i break another social taboo.

em: rebecca ‘jamie looks like jamie’ jessel vs dani ‘my gf is so hot i can’t stand it’ clayton

obsetress: "i tell you how hot she is at least three times a week, vi"

em: danis tryna goad her into making the damn shirt a crop top

em: jamies like yeah but isn’t that a step too far. i feel like i am destroying this shirt too much

em: she does it anyway

em: so jamies workout clothes are danis endless grey baggy school t-shirts and this one ugly souvenir shirt that like

em: psychological warfare and she doesn’t even know it

obsetress: i would........ like to see it

obsetress: also crop top jamie is one of my favorite jamies

obsetress: she is severely underrated

em: crop top jamie is

obsetress: and we do not talk about her enough

em: jamie wear More crop tops

obsetress: viola and rebecca in bed, in matching facemasks, after going to the gym post-epiphany that Jamie Is Hot

obsetress: viola: are dani and jamie hotter than us?

rebecca: what?

obsetress: and like

obsetress: viola is NOT insecure

obsetress: she is constantly confident that she's the most attractive woman in the room at any given moment, but

obsetress: she's just so staggered by this realization

em: some neutral third party (ms grose and mr sharma probably) are like well. u guys definitely have a little more of a scary thing going on

em: i’m imagining rebecca and viola at brunch w hannah and owen v seriously discussing this

em: viola brings it up and rebecca GROANS but then she gets invested in the convo

obsetress: GOD yeah

obsetress: she's leaning forward and gesturing with her fork "when you say 'scary'..........."

em: owens like scary is a compliment

em: hannah grose sips her tea knowingly

obsetress: rebecca just narrows her eyes at hannah grose and hannah raises her eyebrows and shrugs

em: after a week or so viola bursts into a room w stupid big sunglasses and a tray of take out coffees and she’s like Don’t You Worry Jamie I Have Concluded You’re Hot But I’m Not Threatened By It

em: jamies like sorry WHAT

em: you’ve been thinking about WHAT

em: viola leaves without ever following it up

obsetress: dani is entirely unfazed

obsetress: doesn't even blink

em: danis like neat she remembered the oat milk

em: everyone in this au is insane

obsetress: any lesbian in 2021 is insane

obsetress: par for the course

em: was gonna protest but

em: Yeah

obsetress: this lesbian meme account i follow on insta is doing “stop asking who’s the top and who’s the bottom. start asking...” posts

obsetress: and one of them is “start asking who’s baby and who’s fuck around and find out” and it just makes me chuckle

obsetress: jamie taylor baby

obsetress: viola lloyd also baby

em: dani is baby passing and jamie is fuck around faking

obsetress: oh my god that’s why that’s why i think we cracked it

obsetress: dani (fuck around) dated jamie (baby) and vi (baby)

obsetress: rebecca (fuck around) dated jamie (baby) and vi (baby)

obsetress: the reason they could never cross further even tho per the transitive property dani (so similar to vi) should be able to date beccs and jamie (so similar to beccs) should be able to date vi is because

obsetress: you can’t have two babies and two fuck arounds in a relationship together

em: oh of course. i see. i see

em: however in the rare rare crack ship of the ‘jamie viola hatefuck’ a similar phenomenon to ‘social anxiety mum friend ordering food’ instinct takes over and someone fucks around and finds out

em: this is just my unhinged jamie viola hatefuck bulkshit which is. it’s ironic ok it’s ironic it’s ironic it’s

em: ok one last thought bc i know it’s super late for u but

obsetress: omg i also have a last thought let’s trade

em: what if mikey is about isabels age n jamie ends up looking after him for one reason or another for a bit

em: and viola absolutely Dotes on him

obsetress: omg

obsetress: that’s what does it. jamie seeing viola w mikey

em: grumble grumble i guess she’s not that bad

em: except then she’s like god what if mikey likes her MORE than me

obsetress: “dani what if mikey gets one of those weird first crushes on vi”

obsetress: dani doesn’t even look up from the laundry “who hasn’t had a crush on vi”

obsetress: jamie’s like “mE” and dani just gives her the most withering look

em: danis like It’s Par For The Course Jamie

em: danis a teacher she’s like it happens don’t sweat it

em: anyway

em: what was. what was ur last little thought

obsetress: i was just thinking more about viola also baby and how also she’s been so privileged her whole life that sometimes there are just some things she can’t do for herself because she just doesn’t know how

obsetress: like she’s never had to learn

em: rebecca gets um

em: freeze dried coffee

em: nescafé

obsetress: but like

obsetress: rebecca genuinely loves taking care of vi for whatever reason (it’s because she loves her) when she really needs it but

obsetress: rebecca also takes no shit and is like “i’m not making the nescafé for you. you’re 36 years old, vi, you need to learn to do it for yourself”

obsetress: and she’ll stand there and watch her do it and then she makes vi do it at least three more times for posterity

obsetress: “i’ll make a plebeian of you yet, viola lloyd”

obsetress: (god only the two of them would think a line like that is funny)

#this one's fucken LONG!!!!!!!!#the dani jamie viola rebecca exes au

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cordonia-continued · 4 years

Text

Captivated

Chapter 13

AU- TRR Liam x MC (Riley Taylor)

A/N - Set after the Tariq scandal is cleared. Liam ends his engagement to Madeleine and proposes to MC as per the original story, but Riley turns him down. This AU follows their life from then on.

For those that hated the OC Jacob Henley in the last chapter will hate him so much more in this and upcoming chapters.

Chapter Summary - Liam and Bastien meet with Jacob Henley. Liam meets with Riley - lots of smut NSFW

Word count - 2,674

@kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam (not sure if these tags are working, I’m still new to the whole tumblr thing -sorry!)

catch up here

Monday morning at 10am sharp there’s a knock on Liam’s study door. He calls for them to enter and Bastien directs a sharp suited Jacob to one of the chairs before Liam’s desk. Liam stands noticing the lack of a bow from Jacob, he shakes the man’s outstretched hand in a way too firm handshake before they both take their seats. Bastien takes the one next to Jacob.

“Thank you for coming Jacob.”

Jacob smiles widely at the king.

“No problem Liam. Anything for my favourite client, right?” He raises his eyebrows at Liam who can feel his jaw tightening in annoyance at the cockiness and lack of royal protocol shown by the agent. “So what’s all this about then?”

Liam addresses him directly.

“We’ve had some concerning mail coming in addressed to Lady Riley, the content is quite disturbing. We wanted to ask if you’ve had anything similar sent to the CTA office?”

Jacob looks from Liam to Bastien and back again.

“Seriously? The number of nuts writing fan letters jumps every time Riley’s on the cover of a magazine. It’s nothing new.” He shakes his head, amused at the two serious men before him. “Everyone in the public eye gets weirdos writing to them, it’s par for the course. I can’t believe a guy like you hasn’t had his fair share of random fan mail, am I right?”

Liam grits his teeth.

“Maybe you could just humour us for a moment then and answer the question?”

Jacob lets out a small nervous laugh.

“Ok. Well it’s even more prevalent now with social media. We bin any letters or gifts if they arrive at the office. Hell, we don’t even open them, we wouldn't have the time. Our digital media team handle comments online, any dodgy or damaging comments are deleted. Some of the first few comments on an occasional post are responded to on Riley’s official Pictagram page. That’s done by one of our staff members posing as her, 3 of whom have access to the user names and passwords of all of her official social media accounts. Only Riley herself has access to her personal, private accounts.” Jacob waves his arm dismissively.

Liam nods. His dark blue eyes don’t even flicker. His fingers drum on the table as if to a silent beat only he can hear. Jacob realises that this is a man who needs to be in control.

“Bastien here is looking into it.” He sweeps his arm towards his bodyguard. “In the meantime I want to appoint a personal bodyguard to Riley. I need them to be looped into all of her appointments and schedules.”

Jacob raises his hand motioning between the two men. “Let’s just everybody calm down. She doesn’t need this kind of worry right now. It’s not worth upsetting her. This overkill could really freak her out.”

Bastien responds. “Your Majesty, I can’t be responsible for her safety if she doesn’t understand what’s going on. I need her to understand how serious this could be. The social media thing has made my job exponentially harder. It's allowed fans the perception that they are engaging in direct conversation with Lady Riley. The issue is that the obsessive fan cannot make the distinction that when she is saying 'good morning' or 'I love you all' on Pictagram or whatever the hell it’s called, that it’s not her just talking directly to them. That, combined with location-based services that geotag her whereabouts and with photo-centric apps like Pictagram that give visual references. The opportunity increases for those that don't have the best intentions to track her whereabouts. The monarchy have plenty of enemies and terrorist factions. Even without this added threat of an overeager fan, she should have a close protection guard appointed.”

Liam nods at his guard.

Jacob scoffs. “This is ridiculous. It’s just some nutter, they never act on these things. Trust me, they just sit behind the anonymity of a keyboard or letter.”

Liam glares at Jacob with cold hard eyes. “Even so Jacob I agree with Bastien, he has a lot of experience and I trust his judgement on this. She needs to know. I promise I won’t scare her. Please ensure that any suspicious correspondence whether digital or physical is sent to Bastien’s team.”

Jacob leans back in his chair and raises one leg onto the other casually resting his ankle on his knee. “Look, I get it. You want to be the protective boyfriend. A bodyguard is fine. But you throwing your weight around, keeping an eye on her movements, knowing her schedule, isn’t that a bit much? Her carefree attitude is what people love about her. Her ability to be one of them. If you’ve got her wound up worrying about what or who is around the corner we’ll lose that innocence, that spark that makes her who she is. If I could bottle that and give it to all of my clients trust me I would.” He leans forward in his chair. “I’ll level with you Liam, she’s special, she’s got something, she could be big, she could go places. She could make it internationally outside of this small country. The American angle is taking off at a pace, they love the royal stuff. Don’t stifle her. Don’t dull her sparkle.”

Liam’s wonders if the guy ever shuts up. He’s not sure if he’s just insulted him or his country more.

“Jacob, thank you for your opinion. However it is my responsibility to provide protection for my girlfriend. The paparazzi are already overstepping the mark as it is. I won’t allow her to become gossip fodder to fill the pages of salacious magazines and tabloids.” He manages to get out through gritted teeth.

Jacob steeples his fingers beneath his chin and eyes the king carefully.

“About that. Is that official, like, is she ‘officially’ the kings girlfriend?” He air quotes the word officially. “Because I’ve not seen anything official come out of the palace about that. I could get you both on a TV chat show to announce it. Diane Cooper is big right now, her Saturday night show rakes in the viewers.” Bastien looks at the agent with wide eyes. Liam imperceptibly shakes his head at his guard.

“Jacob, please let me and my own team handle any media engagements that involve me. If and when Lady Riley is ready to disclose our relationship to the press we will. And it certainly won’t be on a chat show, as much as I believe the Royal Family could do with modernising, there are appropriate channels to follow. In the meantime I would appreciate it if my name was kept out of any appearances or interviews.”

Jacob disregards what the kings just said and continues.

“You know that’s what they’re waiting for right? Your email direct to Ana de Luca kinda let the cat out of the bag on that one.” He smirks and holds up his hands. “But hey, who am I to tell The King what to do, right?” He winks at Liam and Bastien nearly chokes on the laugh that he’s holding in. Liam widens his eyes at the patronising agent, at a loss for words.

“Right. Good. Well. My Royal Communications Director Countess Madeleine Amaranth would like to meet with you. She’s waiting in the small conference room. Bastien will take you.”

As soon as they leave he emails Madeleine asking that she goes through expected royal protocols with Jacob during their meeting.

****

Later that night Liam lays with Riley’s warm naked body entwined in his arms on the large grey sofa in his sitting room. Their clothes lay messily in several piles on the floor around the room where they landed in the couples haste to lose them as soon as they entered his quarters. He pulls a soft cashmere throw from the back of the couch and covers them both over.

“Love, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” His fingers trace lazily up and down her spine as she snuggles into his broad chest.

“Hmmm?”

“I don’t want you to be worried, ok?” He says softly. She pushes herself up off of his warm chest, covering herself with the throw, holding it up to her chest with one hand.

“Liam you know by saying that you’re making me worried right?”

“Sorry. It’s just Bertrand came to me with some fan mail that had been sent to the estate. They were quite disturbing. I don’t want you to worry about them, Bastien is looking into it and your personal protection officer will be with you the day you get back from the US. It’s probably nothing. I just want you to be aware. Let Bastien know if anything suspicious happens ok? After what happened at the Homecoming Ball I don't want anything to happen to you.” He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Riley’s mouth goes dry. She tries to conjure up an image of what a crazy fan may look like but comes up blank. Instead memories of the masked gun man from the Homecoming Ball fill her head and she shivers involuntarily.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner? Why wasn’t I shown the letters? What the hell was Bertrand thinking, keeping this from me?” Her face creases in concern.

“You don’t need to read stuff like that my love. Honestly it’s probably nothing. Just be careful. People are always looking to attack the monarchy, and you’re part of that now.”

“Liam I’m not part of the monarchy!” She laughs at the absurdity of his words. He pulls her to him kissing her forehead and pulling her back down against his chest.

“You’re mine Riley, and that makes you part of the monarchy even if it’s not official. I just want to protect you.”

She sighs and relaxes against him. “Ok. Thank you for telling me. I promise I’ll be careful, but I’m not changing my life Liam. I don't want to end up scared to go out or scared to live a normal life. You know I can handle myself, I’m from New York remember.” She laughs to hide her nervousness at his revelation.

“I know you can. Just be careful my love.” He kisses the top of her head snaking his arms under the soft cashmere blanket, his hands stroking up and down the sensitive skin on her sides. “I couldn't bare it if anything happened to you.” She raises her head and kisses his lips tenderly.

“I love how protective you are of me.”

“I promised I would take care of you and I intend to keep that promise.” He kisses her deeply, his tongue softly pressing through her lips and into her mouth, tangling with her own.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look naked and in my arms?” He asks in low breathy tones. “But then again you always look beautiful.”

Desire spreads like wildfire through Riley’s body as their lips once again meet, this time in a fierce clash, she savours his exquisite mouth with fervour as his hands roam her body. Before long they find their way to her ass, squeezing and caressing the soft curves, his fingers trail their way down the crease making her shiver, they then dip into her soaking entrance, stroking the soft inner flesh. She lets out whimper as she feels his hardness beneath her.

“Already?” she murmurs into his mouth, surprised that it’s taken barely minutes for him to get hard again following their first frantic lovemaking that landed them here, naked on his couch. She can feel his smirk on her lips.

“You know what you do to me.” He tells her between kisses. “I could never get enough of you. You look so sexy with that just fucked look, your lips all swollen, your hair all mussed up. I can’t resist taking you again.” Her body succumbs to the consuming desire and desperate need building within her and she raises her hips up off of him pushing her ass back into his hand, intensifying the pressure. “You obviously want it again too. Do you like how my fingers feel inside you?”

“Oh yes, oh god yes.” Riley moans grinding back onto his hand. Liam torments her with his lips leaving a trail of fire on every spot he kisses, he makes his way along her neck, pulling with his teeth at her earlobe.

“Tell me exactly what you want.” He whispers in her ear. Every inch of her body is alive with desire for him, she’s surprised she can utter any words at all.

“Oh god Liam, I want you inside me right now.” As he removes his fingers from inside her his lips reclaim hers with a fierce passion, his teeth nipping at the lower one. Riley wraps her palm around his hard shaft, pumping up and down, relishing the sight of him losing control as a low groan reverberates from his chest. The next second Liam grabs her ass and lifts her onto him, an “Oh” escapes her as she slides down his hard length, letting it fill her completely. A slow tremble spreads through her from the spot where their bodies are joined as she moves herself up and down on him. His hips impatiently thrust up to meet her and she presses her palms down on his pelvis.

“Not so fast, I want to savour the feeling of you inside me.” She whimpers as she slowly lifts herself up and down him.

“Fuck, but you feel so good Riley.” Liam mutters groaning and arching back into the couch with pleasure. He drops his hand between her legs and circles her sensitive clit with his thumb. As his expert fingers flick and rub her her pulse races and pleasure dances through her nerve endings, erupting in stars behind her eyes. She cries out incoherent words and he feels her clenching and releasing him as her orgasm takes hold of her.

“I love it when you come so hard you lose the power of speech.” He tells her.

“Oh god Liam, I want at least another one of them before you finish.” She laughs.

“Is that a challenge?” He laughs breathlessly back at her, unable to stop his hips rising up to meet hers. “Get up, I want to take you from behind.” Riley’s already weak knees weaken further at his strong no-nonsense command. She’s too aroused to put up any objections as he easily lifts her off of him and places her back down on her knees on the couch. He presses a hand into the top of her back lowering her head down into the couch cushion, he takes her legs in his hands and spreads them open before him. Liam kneels behind her and dips his tongue into her folds, her knees buckle as it delves into her, licking her on the inside. She gasps, her fingers griping the cushions as his tongue circles her clit and drags all the way back towards her ass. He rises from his knees and poises himself at her entrance, teasingly dragging the tip up and down her sensitive flesh. When Riley can’t stand any more she pushes back onto him. Liam loses control driving into her deeply letting out a long drawn out “Fuuuck” as he thrusts into her. He grips her hair in one hand, gently pulling on it making her back arch and her head move back towards him, he snakes his other hand under her, his fingers grazing at her swollen clit. Riley steadies herself on her arms as the pulsing between her legs becomes too intense and another orgasm rips through her making her legs give way beneath her, Liam holds onto her by the hips, his strokes getting faster and harder, with a guttural groan he empties himself inside her and they both collapse in a sweaty panting heap on the couch.

“I don't think I’m going to recover quite so quickly from that one.” He laughs as he rolls onto his back, pulling her under his arm and laying her head on his chest. Smoothing her damp hair off her face he places a soft kiss on her forehead as she tries to control her breathing and still her shaking legs. “I love you so much, you know that don't you?”

Riley smiles up at him with a soppy lopsided grin. “I love you too my king.”

#choices trr #trr fanfic #trr liam #TRR Riley #king liam #trr mc x liam #liam x mc #liam x riley #the royal romance fan fic #the royal romance #trr bastien

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