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myfearless-love · 3 years

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The Wildest Place You Run (1/?) - Better Safe Than Sorry

It's finally here! My contribution to this year's CSSNS! This is my first time participating in this event and I couldn't be more excited to share my story with you! Recently I watched a lot of supernatural/fantasy TV shows on Netflix and so the concept of this fic was born. It has all kinds of creatures, mixed with adventure, drama, mystery, suspense, and of course, most importantly CAPTAIN SWAN.

Huge thank you to my beta and artist, @thejollyroger-writer for clearing up my mistakes and help me get this story to you. Check out what gorgeous art she made for the fic!! ☝️

I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Summary: Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation...

Chapters: 1/? - Better Safe Than Sorry

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Rating: M

Relationships: Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Read on: FF.net or AO3

Words: ~1.7k

The cobbled streets of the city were dripping with rainwater, and the light from the tall lamps hung like balloons in the cool, misty night air. The harsh wind tore at the branches of the balding trees, a vast amount of withered yellow and brown leaves stirred up a path on the uninhabited sidewalk.

The weather had cooled down more than she’d expected. She pulled up the zipper of her red leather jacket and quickened her steps. She knew it would have been wise to get home on time, she was sure David was already working up an ulcer, marching up and down in the living room.

Somewhere nearby, the clock tower struck ten and she shuddered, accelerating her pace as the curfew had just taken effect. Her hand instinctively slid onto her bag where her Glock 19 lay safely.

She dug into the satchel, and the startled hammering of her heart subsided somewhat as her fingers touched the barrel of the gun. She very much hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. In this world, bandits and robbers were the least dangerous kind, as it was enough to just simply shoot them…

When she finally emerged from the cover of the trees in the park, she opened the heavy wrought-iron gate and hastily crossed the narrow street to continue on the main road. Her footsteps echoed emptily on the deserted avenue, not a soul in sight.

Her destination wasn’t far off, and she fought the urge to run the last few yards. She turned around the corner and into a narrow alley, rushing toward the last, albeit slightly shabby, apartment building.

At the front door, her nearly frozen fingers rummaged awkwardly for her keys in her pocket. But before she could slide the key in, she heard the click of the lock, the massive iron door slamming open with a bang.

As she had suspected, she found herself face to face with a seething David, who, for the moment, was still silent. She risked an angelic and rueful smile and quickly slipped into the house beside him.

All her hopes were dashed when the door crashed back into its frame behind her and David turned to her vigorously. He put both his hands on his hips, a move she found rather comical despite the situation - it reminded her of an agitated lunch lady before scolding a kid in the cafeteria. Still, she couldn’t laugh at it. At the sight of his flashing eyes, she squared her shoulders and waited.

Come what might.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Her only brother never cursed unless he was furious.

“I was just taking a walk in the park,” she replied quietly, and by that time, all her humor was gone. David was right. What she had done was really stupid. “I’m sorry. I should’ve kept better track of time.”

“Didn’t you even notice it got dark in the meantime?” David grew angrier by the minute, and her face began to burn with shame.

She hated arguing with him, so when the opportunity arose, she tried to heed his advice. Today’s case was an exception. “I’m really sorry,” she muttered, lowering her gaze to the pave-stone.

After long seconds of no response from him, she looked up cautiously, only to see him disappear behind the door that led to their apartment.

“David!”

She took off her boots and rushed after him, but as soon as she caught up with him, she grimaced. In the living room, on a mahogany-carved coffee table, David’s nearly complete arsenal of weapons lay spread out. Pistols, knives, rifles, magazines…

“What happened?” She dropped her bag on the couch and walked over to her brother, who was lounging in front of the window.

“A pack of werewolves in the middle of town in broad daylight! That’s what happened!” he hissed between clenched teeth, he was still trembling with fury.

“In the city center?” she repeated, stunned. That was a new one. Plus, it was happening during the day? It was getting weirder and weirder.

David took a deep breath, but it didn’t help much. He was still too upset.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Although, it wasn’t up to me. If Killian hadn’t intervened, I would've certainly kicked the bucket," he shrugged as if it was incidental.

"Jesus…" She reached for David's shoulder, but he pulled away.

"At least fifteen people died. We weren't fast enough."

"Stop it," she admonished him. She grabbed im vigorously by the shoulder, turned him to face her, and urged him to look her in the eye. "And tell me, how many people did you save? A hundred? Two hundred?"

He expelled an angry breath. His tousled, sandy blond hair almost resembled a crow's nest, and his five o'clock shadow made his handsome face look unkempt. His light blue eyes stared at her with mixed despair. Meanwhile, he involuntarily stroked the small scar on his jaw.

"David, for God's sake, you’re a Hunter. I understand it's a shitty feeling, but you can't mourn every single person you can't save."

"I know," he whispered hoarsely, finally raising his head, then he shook it slightly, staring up at the ceiling dotted with tiny cracks. Emma could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was just afraid something had happened to you. I was about to call Killian and the others to search for you."

"I understand and I'm really sorry. I’ll be in my room if we’re done here."

"Alright. I'm going to pack up my things then," he signaled with his head towards the pile of weapons adorning the table.

Emma nodded and picked up her bag, marching across the living room, and heading straight for her room. But before she could peel off her coat, someone outside their apartment started frantically knocking on the door.

"I'm coming!" David's voice was calm, but Emma could still see him securing his favorite rifle as he strode toward the entrance.

"David, open up! It's us!"

When she recognized Robin’s voice, her lips twisted into a relieved smile and she hurried to the front door as well.

"Hey, mate. Are you happy to see us?" Robin laughed at the troubled expression on David's face and the gun in his hands.

"Very funny." David pursed his lips, then stepped aside to let their friends in.

After Robin, Mary Margaret entered, followed by Ruby and Killian.

"We heard Emma had wandered away, so we thought we should sniff around town and look who we found!" Laughing, Ruby flicked playfully at Mary Margaret's back who grimaced as she walked away from the long-haired brunette.

Ruby wasn't exactly your average type of girl. She wore her waist-long chocolate brown hair in wild curls mixed with pink streaks. She invariably wore her favorite black leather garments: military boots, pants, and her signature black studded leather jacket. She looked like a rock star of the nineties.

"I need to make a call,” Mary Margaret said, nodding toward the kitchen, fishing her phone out of her pocket.

"Of course,” David nodded, kissed her on the cheek, and quietly closed the door once everyone was inside.

Robin, Ruby, Killian, and David took a seat in the living room while Emma joined Mary Margaret in the kitchen. Her friend walked over to the counter, unlocked her phone, but her fingers were trembling so badly that she was unable to dial.

“What’s wrong?” Emma anxiously stepped next to the brunette, who just shook her head violently, but her chalk-white face suggested the opposite.

“Didn’t David tell you?” she lifted her troubled hazel eyes to Emma. Her rain-soaked pixie-cut dark hair clung to her forehead, a stark contrast against her alabaster skin.

“What was he supposed to tell me?” she asked carefully.

“Leo was in that run-in with the wolves this afternoon, too. I just found out from Robin that he had to be taken to the hospital right after,” her voice trailed off and Emma could see her shaking.

“He’s probably fine,” she said firmly, trying to give her friend the hope she so often received from her.

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret nodded profusely, then feeling ready, she grabbed the phone and made the call.

While Mary Margaret talked to the hospital receptionist, Emma walked over to the refrigerator and returned to the counter with an unopened orange juice in her hand. She snagged two glasses from the kitchen cabinet and filled them both almost to the brim while tactfully not eavesdropping on Mary Margaret’s conversation because judging by the few words she could pick up, she was already talking to her cousin.

And it was rude to listen in.

“So, how’s our little lion?” Robin entered the kitchen with a grin and plopped casually down on the chair at the dining table.

“Fine,” Mary Margaret replied, not even reacting to Robin’s mocking tone.

It remained an eternal mystery to Emma why they disliked each other so much, but as long as they behaved in a relatively civil manner when they were in the same room together, she didn’t particularly care.

“Anyway, we need to get going soon. Someone saw some of Vampires near the nightclub. So far, they haven’t done anything that would violate the Guild’s rules, but better safe than sorry. They ordered us to look around.”

“And what about the curfew?” Emma raised an eyebrow.

“Humans are stupid. They don’t take Mages seriously. A lot of people aren’t willing to accept the existence of Werewolves and Vampires, even after what happened…”

Robin fell silent at Emma’s expression. He coughed sheepishly, then ran his fingers through his rich brown hair. “I didn’t mean to… I apologize,” he muttered and walked out of the kitchen with his head down.

“Emma…” she felt Mary Margaret’s hand on her shoulder. “Neal wouldn’t want to see you like this. You have to let him go…”

“I know… But… he shouldn’t have been the one to die…”

#cssns21 #cssns 2021 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs fic #emma swan #killian jones #emma #emma 2020 #TWPYR #cs au #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #my fic

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soldrawss · 3 years

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Ok, this morning I opened Tumblr, found your blog, started checking all your rottmnt tagged posts, found your big brother Mikey AU, CRIED FOR ALMOST AN HOUR as I red every post about it, drooled all over your gorgeous art, smiled like a crazy person reading all your Human AU posts, got up with the sun in my chest and more energy than I know what to do with and have been productive since then. I don’t know what to ask (or if you take asks) but I crave more infos about your big brother Mikey AU❤️

WOAH OK this was such an incredibly sweet ask and I’m SO HAPPY that my BBM au could bring you so much joy and ahhhh!!! Just thank you so much, this ask made my night <3 Here’s one of the many little stories I’ve written for the AU that I’ve sent to my friend @zacharandom (thanks for always reading my little emotional blurbs about these kiddos Zach~) Enjoy!

(I haven’t gotten into it yet (I will, it’s a separate ask I’m working on) But Leatherhead is a BIG part of the BBM au. Zach had asked if any of the kiddos had ever been to LH’s place, since LH always stays over at the Hamato’s, and I said yes, but only Donnie, and then this mini fic was born.) Donnie and Mikey get into a 'fight'. And I say 'fight' because Donnie doesn't really know what else to call it. Because he doesn't pick fights, not really, not with Mikey. He doesn't go looking for them with Mikey like he does with Leo. Leo, who can take the worst of Donnie’s shitty teenage attitude and come out of it alright, wearing the worst of Donnie’s temper and anger like a bulletproof vest. Donnie can afford to hurt Leo cause Leo won't break because of it. He's safe to hurt. But it's different with Mikey. Mikey, who's so tired he can barely stand straight most days. Who has bags under his eyes like dark stickers, that not even doe-eyed and ever adoring Raph can peel away. And Donnie KNOWS better than to pick a fight with Mikey about it, it was mostly why he was trying to avoid the conversation altogether. Why he had hidden all the school letters and hacked into Mikey's phone to block all the emails and texts and phone calls from the school about it. He didn't expect Mikey to run into one of his teachers after work and basically blow everything Donnies worked so hard to avoid. He didn't want to skip a few grades. He didn't care what his teachers or his GPA said. He didn't CARE if they thought he was ‘wasting his potential’. He wasn't, and they had no right to complain about it to his big brother like they did. Donnie had TOLD Mikey that he didn't want to. Had gone all the extra lengths to take as many of the AP classes the adjacent high school offered, bargained and pleaded and BEGGED them. He’d do whatever it took, but he didn't want to move grades. He didn't want to quit the robotics club. He didn't want to go to school with a bunch of kids older than him and be the butt end of every baby freshmen joke in the book. He didn't want to be separated from Leo. He really, really, really didn't. And he had explained this all to Mikey. And he knew that Mikey KNEW this. But the teachers wouldn't stop hounding him, and Mikey was already so tired anyway, the weight of the world always seemed to be a weighted pressure on his shoulders that looked physical, with the way Mikey’s whole body sagged. Like every move he made was a conscious effort and pain. Donnie knew this, and he still yelled at Mikey about it anyway. And Mikey didn't yell back, cause Mikey never yelled back at them, but his voice was stern and tired and it just begged Donnie to at least consider talking about it. But Donnie’s 13, and the biggest jerk in the world because he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. And Mikey didn't deserve the one sided shouting match that was all Donnie, he didn't deserve the pointed "I can't believe you would take THEIR side, you NEVER listen to me!" And Mikey DEFINITELY didn't deserve the front door slamming in his face, the last words Donnie said hanging in the air behind him. "I HATE IT HERE!" It wasn't raining, but there was a misty cold hanging in the November air as Donnie sat at an empty park bench, somewhere in Flushing, feeling like the biggest loser in the world the second he ran away and oh,,, oh God. He ran AWAY. How could he run away? He didn't want to run away! He didn't want to run away from anything, especially if it was away from Mikey. Mikey, who deserved more than Donnie’s cold shoulder and heated words, but took it anyway, and he didn't even flinch as Donnie practically screamed at him. He just looked tired. More tired than ever. And accepted Donnie’s temper tantrum like he accepted every other bad thing that has ever happened to him. Like he thought he deserved it. And he was sad. Sad in a way that made Donnie want to throw up. Because he was one of the people who were NEVER supposed to hurt Mikey like that. But he did. He did and he ran away like a little kid and he felt so STUPID about it, jumping on the first bus he could and taking it to God knows what neighborhood and now he was sitting alone on some random park bench, the November cold sinking into his skin and thin shirt cause he didn't have the mind to grab a jacket on his way out and GOD what was he doing? He was cold and alone and probably lost and Mikey probably hated him and now- "Donatello?" Came a voice from behind Donnie, and Donnie whirled around on the park bench because he'd recognize that low and gentle voice anywhere and... Yup. There he was. Lieven Heather, or Leatherhead as Mikey always affectionately called him, standing tall and curious like. His long black hair pulled into a low bun, his green eyes leaf-like and bright, piercing through the dark park like fireflies, looking at Donnie like he was searching for an answer before he got the chance to ask the question and WOAH was Donnie not the emotional type, but he could have cried when he saw the familiar face.

Actually, he was already crying before, but crying because you’re happy to see someone and crying because you’re a jerk to your big brother are two completely different types of emotions, and Donnie tried to hide it either way by rubbing at his face with the back of his wrist. LH’s namesake leather jacket is HUGE on Donnie, but the 12 year old takes it without a fight because LH does NOT look like he's willing to negotiate, as he holds a bag of groceries in one hand and holds an umbrella over the both of them in the other, saying that his apartment is just a few blocks away, and it'd be best to get out of the cold. The tall man doesn't press Donnie for details, doesn't ask why his friend's kid brother is out at 8pm on a school night, all the way on the other side of the city, eyes red with something between tempered anger and grief and skin pale with November cold. Donnie is thankful for it. He doesn't feel like explaining himself quite yet. The second hand hurt from before is still raw in his chest, and even though he knows he's the one at fault, he can't really shake off the sinking black hole feeling in his chest. So the 10-minute walk is mostly silent. LH lives in a grey bricked building, on the third floor, and his apartment is exactly what Donnie would expect if he really thought hard about it. It was a simple studio, minimalist and uncluttered, but that seemed more because the place felt untouched rather than because LH was a particularly clean guy. All the electronics on in the kitchen where stainless steel and spotless, Donnie half suspected they were untouched because of the garbage can filled with dollar store Ramen noodle cups and forks in the sink. His grey walls were bare, and he didn't have a TV, but there was a large bookshelf that covered the expanse of one wall, filled to the brim with thick books that looked like they belonged in the reference section of a library. There was a little queen-sized bed shoved in the corner, neatly made, and looked rarely slept in. The only sign of life in the little apartment that felt much too small for the nearly 7-foot man was the little desk that sat beside the bed, which was covered in astrophysics textbooks, notebooks filled with scribbled notes and a few orange study note cards that had Donnie's older brother written (metaphorically) all over them. Lh motioned to the chair at the desk with a nodded, "you can sit there if you want. I'll make some Valerian tea." "Valerian tea?" "Helps with stress." "I'm not stressed." "Right, of course not. Still tastes good." And Donnie doesn't really like tea, he'd much prefer coffee, or one of the energy drinks Leo sneaks him during school lunches because Mikey doesn’t buy them, but he knows better than to ask for that. He knew about LH’s anxiety disorder and underlying PTSD, from a past that Donnie didn't know any details about except from snippets he'd overhear here and there from the hushed late-night conversations LH and Mikey would have when they thought that Leo and Donnie and Raph were asleep, and he knew that caffeine wasn't something LH indulged in often because of it. The tea tastes fine though. It's hot, and burns his throat a little, but Donnie doesn't care enough to wait for it to cool down to enjoy it. Because it hurts, and Donnie figures he kinda deserves the pain. It's after a few quiet minutes, Donnie sitting at LH’s desk while LH leans against his kitchen counter, that Donnie reaches for a courage he doesn't usually possess and tells LH everything.

About the extra AP classes, and the nosey teachers, and the way it feels a bit too suffocating trying to be everything everyone wants him to be.

And how it all feels too lonely. He barely remembers his mom. He’s starting to forget dad. Mikey works all the time and Raph goes to a completely different school. If he moves up a few grades, then he loses Leo too. And he just can’t deal with that. He can’t deal with everyone, some way or another, leaving him. And how in some, backward, twisted way, it sometimes feels like people are trying to get rid of him. And he just can’t take it anymore. Donnie likes LH. He's smart and collective and cool and he's super nice to Mikey and he’s pretty much everything that Donnie wants to be when he grows up. And he's friends with LH. LH gives him pointers on his science projects and he teaches Leo how to punch a bully like its nothing and he's patient and understanding and helpful with Raph's temper and he's a godsend of a friend the Hamato clan didn't know they could afford after April had came into their lives and Donnie LIKES Lh. But he didn't think they were good enough friends for Donnie to deserve THIS. LH listened to him patiently and quietly. Nodding at the appropriate moments in Donnie’s tearful and half-hysterical rambling about his school and his GPA and how he didn't mean to take it out on Mikey and he didn't mean to run away but GOD he was so sick of everyone looking down on him like a little kid and like HE didn't know what was best for him and didn't have a choice in deciding HIS future. And he expects LH to get mad at him too, cause he was Mikey’s friend first before Donnie’s, and Donnie YELLED at Mikey, and Donnie WASNT going to sob like a child about it, but his head lowers and there's a stupid stinging in his eyes and he sniffs once or twice anyway when he mutters "God, I'm so stupid. Mikey probably hates me right now and is so mad at me." And he can hear LH sigh, and put his own cup of tea down, before walking over to where Donnie sat and crouching before his chair. "That's funny you think that, because when I texted him earlier, he sounded nothing short of scared out of his mind and relieved." "You texted him???" "Well yeah, of course. He called me shortly after you ran out, singing the same tune you are about how you're so mad at him and he didn’t mean to fight with you and that you probably hate him. That’s probably the only reason I even saw you, I wouldn't have known to look out for you if he hadn't told me to keep a lookout for you." And that, woah, Donnie felt a million times worse now because of COURSE, he didn't hate Mikey! Donnie wasn't even MAD at him. He was just being a stupid stubborn teen who took out all his frustrations and insecurities on the last person in the world who deserved it and boy oh boy, this whole thing was so stupid anyway.

“How about he finish our tea, wait for you to get a little bit warmed up first, and then get you back home so that you can tell everything you just told me to your brother. Because I think we both know how much he’d want to hear how you truly felt about this situation.”

And that... that sounded good. Because after his entire mini-rant, it felt like a shadow had been cleared from over Donnie’s heart, and now he wanted nothing more than to go home and hug his big brother for all his worth and apologize about a million and half times. Maybe more. Donnie hadn’t decided yet.

After they had finished their cup of tea, and LH had given Donnie one of his warmer college sweaters to wear before they took the subway back to the Hamato residence, where Mikey stood in front of the building, red-cheeked and shivering from the cold in a giant puff jacket and pajama bottoms, waiting for them.

Donnie didn't even wait, he ran the second he saw the familiar orange jacket that belonged to one of his favorite people on the planet and broke into a breakneck sprint, colliding into his older brother’s chest and waiting arms, and breaking into a choked cough when Mikey’s arms instantly wrapped around him like he always belonged there.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to run away!" Donnie rushed to say because he didn't want a second to go by without Mikey knowing that, but Mikey was already running a gentle hand through his hair and hushing into the crown of his head.

"Shhhh, shhhh it's ok, buddy. I know. I'm just glad you're home." And Mikey still had bags like bruises under his eyes, and looked on the point of breaking if Donnie hugged him too tightly, but he still smiled at Donnie with all the affection and warmth of the world when they pulled away, and Donnie couldn't fight the urge to spit out, "I don't hate it here! And I don't hate you. Ever! I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry Mikey." And Mikey replied with a soft smile and an "I know, kiddo. It’s ok." But there was relief like a balloon losing helium in his eyes and shoulders, like he would have believed differently if Donnie hadn't said anything, and Donnie made the promise there and then that he’d do everything in his power to make sure Mikey never thought that way, even for a second, again. LH hadn't stayed over for the pizza movie night that Mikey offered as a silent ‘thanks for bringing my kid home’, so Mikey and Donnie saw him off at the subway station, and made the few blocks back to their waiting apartment and waiting little brothers with their arms around each other in a side hug. Neither one of them wanting to let each other out of their grasps. And there had been a promise to talk about it later, because Donnie was feeling a little more up for negotiation even though Mikey swore up and down that he’d back whatever Donnie decided to do 110%, but it could wait till another day, when both of their nerves and hearts weren't so tender and raw with emotion. Tonight, they would just sink into the weathered old couch that was softened by a million quilts, and out on a Mothra vs Godzilla movie, and squeeze themselves between an over-excited Raph, who couldn't stay still and just HAD to act out all the Godzilla fight scenes, and a relaxed Leo, who sprawled his legs over Donnie's lap despite Donnie complaining about it, but Donnie didn't make any effort to push him away because Leo kept keeping a wary and watchful eye on his two older brothers, probably knowing more about both sides than either one of them, and keeping his legs over Donnie was half for familiarity and half to keep him from jumping up and running out again and huh, maybe he wasn’t so relaxed after all. Guess Donnie had more than a million and a half apologies to make. Better round it off to a good 2 million, just to be safe. Because Donnie couldn't rightly blame him for keeping a careful eye out, but Donnie had learned his lesson. He wasn't running away again. He wasn't running anywhere if it was away from his brothers. Away from the only family he’s ever had. Because donnie was stubborn and stuck in his ways. And he wasn't going to quit the robotics club, and he wasn't going to skip grades and he wasn't going to leave Leo behind and he wasn't going to be left behind. Donnie wasn’t going to run away. Because Donnie wasnt going anywhere.

(one of the doodles I did for this particular story)

#my fic #big brother mikey au #bbm au #rottmnt human #rottmnt human au #rottmnt #tmnt #tmnt human #i have like 10 stories already written that i've shown zach about this au #and i'm just waiting for the excuse to post them because I don't want to spam you all #unless asked to #but anyway yeah #donnie's the one one who's ever ran away or has seen lh's place #and it's a tiiiiime

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sylvain-writes · 3 years

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A Little Understanding (Leonardo x Reader)

Rated: T Gender Neutral reader, stutter, anger, feelings of being misunderstood/left out, loneliness, studying abroad, understanding, comfort, established relationship

You’re tired of ‘friends’ thinking it’s cute and/or funny when you misspell or misspeak words, when you get stuck in your stutter, and when you miss cultural references. All you’re asking for is to be heard. And for a little understanding. (This can be read as a companion piece to To Be Seen but is a stand alone fic.) for @whygz

Winter’s chill stung your eyes as you dropped from street level to the sewer below, but you barely felt a thing. At least on the outside. The snow-dusted cars, the holiday window displays, none of it caught your attention while your thoughts simmered and raged inside.

You seethed and your blood boiled. The events of the day swirled and raged like an animal caged. Your chest ached as your frustrations clawed to get out.

The Lair, that place of safety and understanding, was almost within reach. You longed to see your real friends, and put the bullshit of university life behind you - even if only for a few hours.

It grated at your nerves to know you’d have to see your classmates again tomorrow. Even now, those people who you thought were your friends, were still blowing up your phone wondering why you left the library in such a rush.

They couldn't see what they'd done. They didn't hear the way they spoke to you. They didn't really know you and they didn't seem to care.

You couldn’t speak to them. Not when they didn’t understand. No, not when they pretended not to understand.

If you can listen hard enough for context clues, and you can sort through their in-jokes and memes and every little cultural reference… then they can take five seconds to wait for you to sort your thoughts. They can take a moment to listen to what you’re actually saying and wait for it to sink in. You work so hard to ‘not have an accent’, to find the right words, while it seems like they don’t try at all.

But sticking up for yourself is a losing battle. You’ve tried. You’re tired of going beet red in front of them, telling them to stop and hearing them tell you how cute it is when you’re upset. You’re tired of stumbling and stammering and falling into the stutter you’ve worked so hard to train out of your speech. But that only makes them giggle and coo and treat you like you’re a child. As if only a child is sweet and innocent enough to trip over their words.

You stomp through the tunnels, your feet knowing exactly which turns to take even while your mind is focused elsewhere. You don’t even realize you’ve made your way into the Pit until you’re walking into Michelangelo’s chest.

You both step back, you apologizing, him looking down at you with a curled lip and annoyed frown. It seems neither of you were paying attention to where you were going. But he's set to blame you.

“Hey!” He says, his New York accent almost as thick as Raphael’s tonight. “I’m walkin’ here!”

At first you’re surprised. You’ve never seen Michelangelo angry. Certainly, he’s never been angry at you. Then he throws up his arms in exasperation and repeats himself. "I'm walkin' here!"

Heart pounding, you’re mid-apology when he starts laughing.

“Dustin Hoffman, Midnight Cowboy!” He shakes his head as he walks past you, still laughing as he goes.

And the anger in you vibrates from your chest through your throat until it’s pushing past your lips in fiery words, “Cala a boca!”

And he does. Michelangelo, king of pranks and jokes and laughter, snaps his mouth shut in an instant. His voice drops low, all hints of exaggerated accent gone as he gently asks, “What? What’d I do?”

“You don’t get to laugh at me!” You’re still shouting. You hear it. You see the shock in his big blue eyes as your voice gets louder instead of softer. And you wish you could take it back. This anger isn’t for him. But he’s safe and he’s here and he’s getting it all. “Just because I didn’t understand doesn’t make it funny!”

You’re so wrapped up in your own anger at everyone and everything, and shame at yelling at Mikey who’s trying desperately to listen and understand, that you don’t notice Leo step into the room behind you.

“Hey, what-”

You spin on your heel to face him. “Leo.”

Seeing him standing there, head tilted in confusion, your face flushes so hot your eyes start to burn.

“Baby," he asks sweetly, "what’s going on?”

“No, don’t-” you start, while Mikey holds his hands up in peace.

“Leo, it’s OK," Mikey tries.

“It’s not,” you argue.

“Baby, talk to me.”

“Don’t do that!" The shouting scrapes your throat raw as your hands curl into fists at your sides. "Don’t… don’t… don’t talk to me like I’m… don’t call me baby when…” Your fingernails dig into your palms as you struggle.

Donatello is already theorizing as he comes down from his work station. “I believe you’re objecting to Leo’s use of the endearment ‘baby’ whilst you are in crisis. Perhaps it comes across as patronizing? Infantilizing?”

Your eyes blink owlishly at Donnie. With all that’s running through your head, you can't keep up. He speaks too quickly and too strangely for you to translate it all.

You close your eyes to block out the world, lean your head back, and finally it all comes out in a shout, “I’m not stupid!”

The crash of heavy dumbbells hitting the floor is the only sound as the voices of the turtles fall silent.

“I’m not stupid. And… I’m not a baby. I’m not cute. I’m not funny.” Your chin falls to your chest and you dig your hands deep into the pockets of your hooded sweatshirt. Tears slide down your cheeks and over your lips as you mumble. “Eu só sou eu. I’m me. Just me.”

"Leo," it's Raph speaking now, "maybe we should…"

He's hushed and you release a broken sigh.

You don’t even notice your shoulders are trembling until you feel Leo’s hands rest atop of them to hold you steady.

“I know you,” Leo says so quietly you almost missed it. “I see you, remember?”

“It’s hard!” you whimper as the tears continue to fall.

“What is?”

You shrug and sniff and wrap your arms around yourself before you answer. “This. All of it.”

You’ve been away from your family for eight months. And keeping the turtles a secret for more than half that time. Even with the friends you’ve made, it so often feels like you’re alone in this crazy city in a foreign country. You want to tell Leo just how alone and lost and angry you feel by the way people take you for granted, but he pulls you into his arms and the intensity of it all starts to fade away.

Leo holds you for a minute and when he pulls back a bit you notice you’re the only ones left in the room. He leads you over to the couch in the Pit and sits you down.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, but you aren't ready to let him go. He kisses your hand before releasing it. “Right back, I promise.”

When he returns, there are steaming mugs in his hands and a blanket slung over his shoulder. It’s sweet and he looks all kinds of cute and cozy as he plays the part of a gentleman. But a cup of cocoa and a cuddle isn’t going to solve anything. However, maybe, you think, it can help you get through the night without ripping another unsuspecting sweetheart’s head off.

“I really have to apologize to Mikey.” You’re embarrassed for losing your cool with him

Leo gives a little nod, but doesn’t push anything but a warm mug into your hands. He slides into the space between you and the armrest of the couch, snuggles close to your side and brings his own cup of cocoa to his lips. "I take it things at study group didn't go so well."

Your tears start up again, but you have no more words. It feels like you've been allotted only so many words in a day and you used them all up before getting to your boyfriend. That breaks your heart and makes you cry harder. Even then, they're silent tears.

"I used to feel alone all the time."

You raise your head at Leo's confession. He's had sensei and his brothers, April and Casey. But, you realize, that's an awfully small circle of people to know and to trust.

"They didn't really understand me. They didn't get me."

You lean into Leo's side remembering what a struggle it was for him the first time he opened up to you. And you've seen how hard he works to lead his brothers, to hold the family together. To find their strengths and make use of those in balance.

But his brothers so often think he's too hard on them, too serious, too focused on training.

"I got left out and made fun of… it was lonely. Until I met you. You listen. You take time to get to know me, to understand."

With Leo's presence a solid comfort beside you, his words coming steady and smooth, you calm down enough to find words. You shift your body toward him before you speak.

"You were quiet, in the beginning. Had to listen really hard to get to know you."

"Pff," Leo turns away with an almost laugh. "First time I heard I was quiet. The guys complain I'm always barking orders and-"

You lean in and kiss his lips. A simple thing. Chaste. Barely a touch. "I'm not the guys," you remind him. "You can always talk to me."

Leo snuggles in closer. You take your mugs and set them on the coffee table so your hands are free. But before you can wrap your arms around him, he pulls you into a hug.

In his arms it's safe and quiet and warm. "It really sucks," you whisper.

Leo hums as he brings his lips to the crown of your head. "It really does." He lifts you into his lap and the blanket comes with you.

Soon his hand is in your hair, his fingers running through it. And he swears a little when his fingers catch on your curls. It doesn't hurt, but hearing him swear has you burying your face in his neck. It’s mostly to hide and muffle your giggling. Judging by the way Leo takes your face in his hands and peppers you with kisses after, he doesn’t mind the bit of laughter. You know he’s happy to have helped you find your smile.

#tmnt x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt leonardo #gender neutral reader #tmnt x gender neutral reader #Leonardo x Gender Neutral Reader #my writing

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axwalker · 4 years

Text

Tears in Heaven 10: Endings

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

Pairings: Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings: NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog.

Mention of child death, mention of depression, grieving

N*FW content!

A/N: There will be a small epilogue next week, but this is the official ENDING.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thank you so much to all the people that read it, shared it and commented it. Every single like, reblog or comment gave me life! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@mskaneko Thank you for all your amazing insights when you read and your incredibly inspiring edits and mood boards. You’re one of a kind!

@pedudley Thank you for pre-reading every chapter and being such a great, supportive friend. Your feedback meant a lot/

@burnsoslow The MVP of this whole thing!! I was so stuck before your brilliant book idea!! Thank you for that and for the hours and hours (and hours) of editing!! Without you I would’ve never been able to write this fic. You’re an amazing friend and human being. THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR HELP.

I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH ❤️

To catch up: Masterlist

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry. The edit at the end of this fic belongs to the talented @mskaneko

Word count: 7 697 (!!!)

Songs inspiration: Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton

Tagging: @ao719 @yukinagato2012 @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @cordonia-gothqueen @bebepac @nomadics-stuff @cordonianroyalty @forthebrokenheartedthings @bascmve01 @gibbles82 @mom2000aggie @gardeningourmet

Perma: @burnsoslow @mskaneko @mskaneko @pedudley @pug-bitch @ac27dj @twinkle-320 @kimmiedoo5 @marshmallowsandfire @loveellamae @debramcg1106 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @ravenpuff02 @princessleac1 @ritachacha @drake-colt-lover-99

Liam woke up feeling restless. He rolled over in bed, trying to get a few minutes of sleep, but guessed it would be useless. Before taking a long hot shower, Liam called the kitchens so they’d bring him a large jug of strong coffee with his breakfast - he would need it to get through the day. Thirty minutes later, he was sitting on the balcony of his room at Valtoria, sipping his second cup of coffee of the morning and thinking about his fiancée. More than the conversation he had had with Alexis two days prior, it was the one he and his brother had shared the previous afternoon that he was obsessing over.

Since he had met her, he had been head over heels for Alexis. However, even if his love for her was undeniable, the real question was if they were right for each other. Reluctantly, Liam had to admit that he barely recognized himself in the jealous, controlling, manipulative man he had become. And as tempted as he was to blame Drake and his return for the demise of their relationship, deep down, he knew something else was profoundly wrong with them.

Leo was right: He didn’t trust Alexis. Liam wanted to, desperately, but he just couldn’t. The memory of the day he had found her almost dead on her bed still haunted him. Liam had never really gotten over it.

Alexis entered their room and saw Liam sitting with his paper and sipping coffee, lost in his thoughts. Earlier that morning, when she had left Drake’s cabin, she had done so convinced that the only right decision was to marry Liam. However, standing there and watching him, her own words resonated in her head. Liam deserved better. And he did; he deserved better than a life with a woman that would never be able to fully love him. Neither of them would ever be happy if they went ahead with their wedding.

Alexis was scared -- terrified -- of loving Drake again, of facing her grief, but hiding behind Liam couldn’t wouldn’t, be the solution anymore.

“Hi, Li,” she said, sitting on the chair next to him.

“Love.” Liam saw her sad expression and instinctively knew what she was about to tell him.

Alexis hugged herself and took a sharp breath, trying to gather some courage. Her eyes watered as she tried to get the words out. “I’m sorry, Liam.”

Liam’s hand gripped his cup of coffee. “You’re calling off the engagement.”

“I … I wasn’t planning to do it,” she sobbed. “But the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m not good for you, Liam.”

Despite his best efforts, a cold rage overpowered him. “Do not pretend that this has nothing to do with Drake, Alexis.”

“I’m not going to lie. Drake showing up again accelerated things. But our problems have nothing to do with him. Our marriage wouldn’t have lasted. We were asking too much from each other. I would never be happy being a duchess, and I know how badly you want to be a father, Liam. It was selfish of me to ask such a huge sacrifice of you.”

“I don’t care, Alexis. I would do anything for you,” Liam implored. “I know we have problems, but I’m sure that if we work together, we would be able to find a solution.”

She shook her head. “Are you happy with me, Li?”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I love you very deeply, Alexis.”

“That’s not what I asked. You’re constantly worried about me. You don’t trust me. And we never share our problems because we don’t want to burden each other. We never talk about Tom.” She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

Liam’s eyes widened. “Did you just say his name?”

She nodded.

“One day with him, and you’re already saying Tom’s name again.” His glossy eyes looked at her. “It’s always been him,” he muttered. “All this time, you didn’t stop loving Drake, did you?” he asked her.

“Liam … please don’t go there,” she begged, more tears running down her face.

“Did you ever even love me?” His voice betrayed the cool façade he was trying to maintain. Incapable of staying put, he stood up in front of the balcony’s railing.

Alexis cut the distance between them and hugged him as tightly as she could. After a moment, she took his head between her hands. “I love you, Liam. And not only because you saved my life, but because you’re an amazing, loving, generous man; because of all the moments we shared together. You gave me a reason to wake up in the mornings. Thanks to you, I was able to smile, to live again. I’ll never forget that.”

“Right ... you’ve always loved me, but you never fell in love with me,” Liam replied bitterly.

At that moment, watching Liam breaking in front of her, Alexis hated herself. “I tried Li. And it has nothing to do with you; I just never really got over … everything.”

Liam wiped a tear from her face. Too heartbroken to talk, he simply took her in his arms and kissed her head.

Alexis took off the engagement ring and placed it in his palm. “I never deserved this. And maybe you don’t believe me right now, but I know you’ll meet someone who will.”

Every word she pronounced felt like he was being stabbed. Liam turned his gaze towards the gardens. “Please leave, Alexis. There is no point in prolonging this anymore.”

Alexis squeezed his hand and left him there. As she walked away, a strong feeling of contrition flitted through her body in response to the tightness in her chest. However, despite her guilt over hurting a good man, Alexis knew she had made the right decision.

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Drake put his syringe and gloves in his bag, patted Thunder on his rump, and left the horse’s stall, rubbing his neck tiredly. After a long day doing the weekly check-ups on the horses of one of his biggest clients, he was shattered. However, working to exhaustion hadn’t worked as well as he had hoped; Alexis and her goddamn stubbornness hadn’t left his mind for a second.

When he finally got home, his heart skipped a beat when he saw Alexis sitting on the steps of his porch, waiting for him.

“Hi, Drake.”

His heart raced as it did every time he saw her. “Hi, Lexie.”

“Can we talk?” she asked, and he detected a slight edge in her voice.

“Of course, Lexie. Let’s go inside.”

Alexis shook her head no. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d preferred if we take a walk.”

“Why?” Drake questioned, puzzled.

Because if I enter the house, I won’t be able to leave it again. “It’s better,” she stated simply.

“Okay.” Drake shoved his hands in his pockets. If she didn’t want to come into the house, that meant she was divorcing him and choosing Liam. He felt the pain of losing her all over again threaten his heart.

Drake and Alexis walked a while next to each other without a word. Inadvertently, they took the path to the lake where they used to fish and have picnics with Tom. Drake glanced over her; the look in her eyes was not sad as he had expected but determined. She was wearing the fierce expression that meant she had made a decision.

They sat in the old wooden pier next to each other. “What do you want to talk about, Lexie?”

Alexis bit her bottom lip. “I broke up with Liam.”

His eyes immediately darted to her left hand. Relieved to see that the ring was gone, Drake exhaled a lightened breath. “Lexie.” He was impatient to kiss her, to feel her again, but something about her demeanor stopped him. An awful thought snaked into his mind. “Do you want to sign the divorce papers anyway?”

Alexis placed her small hands on his large ones. “No. It’s the last thing I want.” She smiled at him.

Drake cupped her face, allowing his thumb to draw soft circles around her lips. “I don’t get it. Why are you so sad?”

“I need to ask you for something.” Drake nodded, still tenderly rubbing her face. “I’m sure that I don’t want a divorce. But I’m not ready to move back here yet.” She took a sharp breath. “I never really grieved Tom, you know? I mean, I did all the four first stages. I was furious at first and then hurt and broken at that clinic. But after my depression, I regressed. I realize now that I’ve been in denial for the past three years.”

Drake wiped her tears again and pulled her close to him.

“My therapist didn’t want me to leave the clinic. She said I wasn’t ready, but I wasn’t a danger to myself anymore, so she didn’t have any other choice but to sign my release. I need to do that now. Finish my therapy, be alone, and I’m sure you’re going to roll your eyes at this,” she joked, “but I need time to find myself. I don’t know who I am anymore, Drake. I don’t do any of the things I used to enjoy. And I feel this guilt that I can’t seem to shake. I feel guilty for the pain that I just caused Liam, but I especially feel guilty about us. About all the things I told you that day.”

“Lexie, please. You have to let that go. You weren’t yourself back then -- neither of us was,” Drake said tenderly.

“I still need to forgive myself.” She squeezed his hands. “Please don’t give up on me, Drake. I just need some time. A few months, maybe,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes.

It hurt like hell, but he understood. Drake took her face between his hands. “Listen to me, baby, because this is very important. I love you. No matter what. No matter what I’ve done or you’ve done. No matter what will happen. I will always love you.” He interrupted himself to give her a soft kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “If I have to wait for you for the rest of my life, I will. I lost you once, but I swear I will never lose you again. Never.” She smiled through her tears. “This is what I wanted. That you chose whatever was best for you. And I think this is it. I’ll be here at the end, loving you. Okay?”

“Thank you, Drake.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he crashed his mouth with hers in a searing, hungry kiss. After a breathless moment, he forced himself to stop. It was clear that Alexis wasn’t ready for anything else. They shared a few more moments together, then Drake walked her back to her car.

She opened the door but stood next to it, torn between her longing to stay and her need to leave.

“I know you need to go through this alone, but promise me that if it’s too much, you’ll call me, Lexie. Day or night.” Drake said as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I promise.” Alexis kissed him again, trying to memorize how much she enjoyed his lips on hers, the way he had to kiss her with all his body. Drake held her as close as he could; if he had his way, he would never let her go.

But Alexis was too confused, too rattled by everything that had happened. She needed to claim her independence and regain control of her life before coming back to him. Watching her leave broke his heart, but he knew that she was worth the waiting.

With tears in her eyes, she got in her car and drove away, hoping that she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

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The first month was arduous. Coming back to therapy and having to deal with Tom’s death proved to be as challenging as Alexis had thought, but she persisted, determined to get better. She and Drake respected their arrangement and didn’t see each other, but whenever a session became too strenuous, or she was at risk of getting depressed, she called him, and they talked for hours over the phone. Drake told her about his experiences in prison and his life in Spain, and she finally spoke about the long months she had been committed to the clinic and her suicide attempt. Each phone call left them hopeful and terribly nostalgic, but Drake never pressured her.

After two months of intense therapy, Dr. Salas, her psychologist, encouraged her to do something for herself. Alexis immediately knew what she needed. For the next four months, she rented a cottage in Portavira and moved next to the beach. It was a small cottage, but it had a porch where she could sit, watch the ocean, and write every day. During that time, Alexis cried a lot, but she also began to take long walks along the beach, hike and swim in the ocean; the calm of the secluded beach and the soothing sound of the waves had a curative power on her. Alexis missed Drake desperately, more and more with every passing day, but she knew that she needed to finish what she had started before coming back to him.

The first days in Portavira, Alexis only managed to write a few lines, but soon an idea began to form in her mind. At first, she refused it; nothing would be more painful than writing that, but Dr. Salas had suggested that it could be cathartic to explore her grief through her words. One afternoon where Alexis was feeling unusually relaxed, she sat in front of her computer with a cold glass of Chardonnay and started typing. She cried her eyes out with every word, but in the end, she felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. For the first time since her little boy had died, Alexis accepted that while the pain in her chest would never really disappear, she might be able to be happy again.

The next morning, she called Charlie, her old boss, and sent her the manuscript.

Drake was quickly regaining his excellent reputation among the owners of Cordonian stables and racetracks. Thoughts about Lexie consumed him day and night, so he spent those six months working like crazy. In his spare time, he read, fished, or rode his horse, but he felt restless all the time. One night after talking to her, an idea crept into his mind. He already knew the perfect place, so he made an offer, and when he got it, he devoted all his free time to making it perfect.

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Liam rubbed his eyes tiredly; he had been up working for almost 20 hours straight, trying to figure out a way to bring new investors to Valtoria. He, Hana, and his team had developed a health plan that aimed to offer affordable healthcare to all the duchy’s citizens, but he needed private investors and the help of the Crown to be able to fund it.

At almost 10:00 p.m., Liam leaned against his chair. Hana dropped her pen on the desk and raked her hair with her hands. They both yawned at the same time, which made them chuckle.

“We’re too tired, Hana,” Liam said as he stood up to get a drink from the cart in his office. “Something to drink?”

“Gin, please,” Hana answered, grinning.

Liam couldn’t help but admire how pretty his assistant was. Hana was a special woman; she was smart and kind, and she cared about Valtoria almost as much as he did. He always had fun in her company.

Alexis had left him six months ago. The first two months had been hell; after being in love with her for so long, Liam had had trouble adjusting to the idea that she would never be with him. However, after some time, he realized that Alexis had made the right decision. They weren’t happy together; she had never stopped loving Drake, and he was in love with a woman who no longer existed. Besides, Liam had to admit that he felt lighter and freer without the burden of his constant concern for her. His love for Alexis wasn’t healthy or romantic; it was toxic and harmful for both of them.

Liam handed Hana her gin, smiling at her. “What would you think if I called that place where we had dinner with the French ambassador the other night? We can ask for a couple of Black Truffle Croque Monsieur and some eclairs au chocolat?” he asked playfully, his stomach groaning at the thought.

Hana’s face lit up. “That would be perfect, Liam.”

“You call the restaurant, Hana. I will go look for a bottle of Beaujolais from the cellar.” Liam left his office, grinning. He didn’t know why, but the prospect of spending an intimate moment with Hana made him happier than he had been in a long time.

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Alexis swam for almost an hour. The cold, tranquil ocean was the only place where she could calm her nerves that morning. After four months on the beach, she was going back to Cordonia that same afternoon, hopefully to stay. Charlie had arranged a public reading in a small bookstore in Cordonia to launch her book, and Alexis had invited Drake - the real reason behind her nervousness that morning. A smile formed on her lips from just the thought of him. When she had called him to invite him to the reading, she hadn’t dared to tell him that she was ready, that she couldn’t wait another minute to be with him. Mostly because she didn’t want to do it over the phone.

But also because a part of her was still scared. There was no doubt in her heart; she loved Drake more than anything. But what if they were able to be happy again and another tragedy struck them? If she had to go through the pain of losing him again, Alexis knew without the shadow of a doubt that she wouldn’t be able to recover.

In addition to all of that, there was something she needed to tell him, and Alexis wasn’t sure how Drake was going to react. She stepped out of the ocean and dried herself. When she got to the house, Alexis went to her closet, thinking about what she was going to wear. Butterflies flapped in her stomach, knowing that she was dressing for him, that if everything went well, she would be in his arms that same night — the feeling of being 19 years old all over again washed over her. After a short shower, she applied light makeup and blow-dried her hair. Before leaving the house, she looked at herself in the mirror. It didn’t matter how scared she was; fear had dominated her life for almost five years. It wouldn’t control another minute of it.

Drake turned on the engine of his jeep, his heart racing thinking about her. He had no idea what her book was about, but Alexis had talked about it with that cute voice she had when she was really thrilled about something. Drake could almost see her face if he closed her eyes: her wide, gorgeous smile and a pink blush covering her cheeks with excitement. During their conversation, she hadn’t said anything about their marriage, but Drake knew she wouldn’t have invited him if she wasn’t ready to be with him again. At least he really hoped so. Before going to the library, he made a quick stop. His project was on the right track. He prepared the last surprise for her and then left for the reading.

The children’s bookstore that Charlie had picked was perfect. Small and cozy, it had a lounge with two large sofas and colorful cushions. Posters of Tom Sawyer’s books and figurines of the Harry Potter and Narnia universes decorated the walls. The owner had moved an antique armchair to the middle of the room, so the kids and their parents would be surrounding Alexis in a half-circle as she told her story. She was greeting the families that her agent had invited when she heard a familiar voice calling her.

“Blossom!” Maxwell ran to hug her. “I missed you so much; I have a million things to tell you!”

She hugged her best friend back. “Hi, Max! I missed you too. How’s the married life?”

“Perfection. Rashad is the best husband in the world. A total control freak, but I knew that already.”

Alexis laughed. “Anyone seems like a control freak compared to you.”

“I guess that’s true.” Max beamed, looking at her. She was wearing a beige mid-length dress with an oversized camel blazer and nude high heels. “You’re gorgeous, by the way.” Her friend gave her a knowing smile. “Drake is going to drop dead when he sees you.”

She gave her friend an anxious smile. “He isn’t here yet.”

“He’ll be here soon, Lexie. Don’t worry,” Maxwell said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Darling, everything looks fabulous.” Olivia kissed both her cheeks. “I’m so proud of you,” she said earnestly.

“Come on, Liv. Don’t make me think you’ve gone soft,” Alexis teased.

“I mean it, Alexis.”

“I know you do,” she replied, squeezing her best friend’s hands. “Thank you.”

Charlie interrupted them. “Please take your seats. You need to start, Alexis.”

Alexis sat in the armchair; she glanced at the door one more time, and there he was, looking shamelessly handsome in a white shirt and jeans. Drake winked at her as he sat on one of the sofas next to her. His boyish grin had the power of rendering her speechless. She swallowed her nervousness and opened the book. Drake noticed that it was signed by Alexis Walker, and his smile got wider.

“Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Tom who lived in a small red cabin in the middle of the woods. Every night before bed, his mom and dad sang him lullabies and told him stories of faraway lands, brave princes, and courageous queens. His best friends were Buttons, a little grey rabbit that followed Tom everywhere he went, and Maxie, an enthusiastic fire truck with a loud voice that only Tom could hear. Tom wanted to travel very far; thus, his dream had always been to conquer the faraway lands his parents described to him every night. One sunny April morning, Tom put his wooden sword and blue cape in his backpack and left, followed by Buttons and Maxie, to live the adventures he had dreamed of.”

Alexis looked up and saw Drake staring at her with glossy eyes. He gave her a soft nod, so she turned her eyes back to the book and kept on reading. Perhaps to avoid thinking about his lost son, Drake’s attention focused on her. He looked at her, enraptured. Alexis’ bright brown eyes were almost shining; her silvery voice had the entire room captivated with her story. The inner light he had always loved in her was back, as bright as before. In only a few months, she had managed to regain control of her life and make her dream come true. Every time he thought that he couldn’t possibly admire or love her more, she surprised him again. He was utterly, hopelessly, crazily in love with her.

“… Tom, Maxie, and Buttons had lived an incredible adventure. Tom missed his mom and dad deeply, but he knew that they were waiting for him in their little red cabin in the middle of the woods and that he’d soon come home.”

Alexis closed the book with watering eyes. “Thank you for coming. This book means a great deal to me.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I hope you enjoyed it. I’ll be happy to answer questions if you have any.”

One woman holding a little girl in her lap raised her hand and asked the question Drake was dreading. “Is Tom’s character based on someone real?”

Charlie had warned Alexis that she needed to be prepared to answer that. She gripped the book and took a deep breath. “Yes, on my son.” After drinking a gulp of water to control herself, she added, “He’s no longer with us.”

Drake smiled at her sadly but reassuringly when the audience went silent for a few seconds.

Maxwell quickly raised his hand. “Um … I just wanted to know if you’re preparing a sequel.”

Alexis gave him a grateful look. “Not at the moment, maybe later. Thank you for your question, sir.”

A little girl in pigtails asked her a question about Buttons, and a blond boy questioned her about Maxie the fire truck.

After she was done answering and signing copies of the book, she went to meet with Drake, Max, and Olivia.

“I loved it, Blossom! I have to say that Maxie the fire truck is the best character. He seems to be the smartest, funniest, cutest one of them all. Certainly much more than the evil Queen Nevrakis,” Maxwell beamed as Olivia shook her head, for once, more amused than annoyed.

A sudden silence made Olivia realise that Drake and Alexis were looking at each other longingly. She cleared her throat. “I have a date with Jin tonight, so we better get going, Max.”

Maxwell beamed as he hugged both of them. It was unquestionable for anyone who knew them that Drake and Alexis belonged with each other, and nothing could make Max happier than to see them together again. “I’m so happy for you guys! See you soon!”

They both chuckled; Drake brushed Alexis’ hand with his, slowly intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Did you like it?” Alexis asked Drake timidly.

“It was wonderful. The way you described him was simply perfect.” Drake threw her a small smile. “It was our Tom. I admire you so much, Lexie. Thank you for this; I needed it too.” They locked eyes with each other, both their hearts racing.

“I’m ready, Drake,” Alexis blurted out and immediately felt the blush in her cheeks, her heart beating furiously in her chest.

“Are you sure you’re ready to come with me?” he asked her with his deep voice, an intense longing in his eyes.

“As long as you still want me to,” Alexis gave him a coquettish smile.

He tightened his grip on her hand. “Always, Lexie.” The loving look she gave him back was enough to drive him wild. Drake looked around him; they were in a children’s bookstore surrounded by kids and Alexis’ old boss. Probably not the best place to kiss her as he was dying to.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered sheepishly.

Alexis arched her brows. “Really? What is it?” she asked excitedly.

Drake smirked. “A surprise has to be unexpected. As a writer, aren’t you supposed to know definitions of words and shit?”

“Smartass,” she laughed. “I just need to say good-bye to Charlie really quick, and we can go.”

When they got into the car, Drake leaned to her seat and cupped her beautiful face. She let out a soft gasp when he kissed both her cheeks, the corners of her lips, her nose. “I’m going to spend the rest of the night, of my life, kissing every part of you, baby,” he growled in her ear.

If Alexis waited another minute, she would’ve imploded right there, so she crashed her lips on his, making him groan with want. Drake pressed her body against the seat, but an annoying thought made him stop. “Our first time after all this time will not be in the passenger seat of my jeep, Lexie.”

Alexis bit her bottom lip. “Let’s go,” she urged him.

After a short drive, Drake pulled over on the side of the highway. He grabbed a silk tie from the back seat. “I need to cover your eyes.”

“It’s dark, and we’re in the middle of the woods, Walker. Are you trying to kidnap me?” she asked with a flirty tone.

A smug grin spread on his lips. “Actually, that is exactly what I’m going to do. Turn around.” Gently, he placed the tie around her head and tied a knot. “No peeking, Lex,” he said, kissing her head.

She shook her head, now too excited to speak.

After a few minutes, they arrived, and Drake helped Alexis to get out of the car. The feeling of walking in an unknown place with her eyes covered could’ve made someone nervous, but there was no one Alexis trusted more in the world than Drake; he would rather die than let something happen to her. They walked a few inches with him firmly holding her. When they stopped, he pulled her back against his chest, circling her waist with his arm. He leaned to speak in her ear. “Six months ago, in one of our phone calls, you told me how difficult it’d be for you to live in the cabin again. That you would love to start our lives somewhere else.”

Alexis nodded.

“That day, I recalled how much you loved that abandoned house next to the lake. It was small and run down, but you fell completely in love with it. Remember?”

“I do,” she said with a lump in her throat.

They were taking a stroll next to the lake when Alexis saw it. The house was almost in ruins, but according to her, it had significant potential. As it was clearly uninhabited and there was a window open on the ground floor, she climbed through it; Drake followed her, chuckling, with Tom in his arms. Once inside, he had to admit that the house did show promise. They would have to spend a lot of weekends renovating it, but he loved manual work and was sure Alexis would make it as cozy and comfortable as she had made his father’s cabin. Back in their own place, they daydreamed about buying the house and renovating it. She drew a small sketch of what she pictured: a huge kitchen where they could both cook together, a swing for Tom to play, a porch to watch the sunset, and a main room with a skylight where they could see the stars every night. It would take some time and a lot of effort, but they thought the house was worth it. When Drake was about to make an offer to the real estate agency, tragedy overcame them, and they forgot all about it.

Drake uncovered her eyes, and she gasped. They were standing in front of the house, but it had changed. Drake had spent the last five months working on it every minute of his spare time. The old washed-out exterior was now a beautiful wooden façade with a large, wide-pillared porch in the front.

He held her tightly. “Now this is the exterior. There’s still a lot of renovation work to do inside. You’ll see.”

Alexis had happy tears in her eyes. “I … I can’t believe you did this, Drake. It’s gorgeous.” She turned around, and he cupped her face and gave her an intense, searing kiss.

“Come on, I want to show you the rest,” he said when they finally parted, breathless. Drake grabbed her hand, and they laced their fingers together.

They stepped into the house, and even if Drake was right and the first floor still needed a lot of work, Alexis wandered around happily with her heart full. “I love the kitchen! We can have a large counter here,” she said, pointing to one side of the room. “What would you think about a thick wood table?”

Alexis’ face reflected so much excitement and enthusiasm that Drake couldn’t help but grin at it. His gaze followed her as she pranced all over the house with a thousand ideas of how to renovate every corner of it.

“So I gather you like it?” he asked, arching an amused eyebrow.

“Like it? I love it, Drake! It’s perfect. I’d like to move here as soon as possible!”

Drake couldn’t help but smile tenderly at her. “Are you sure? We can stay in the cabin for a few more months while we do the renovation work here.”

“If the water is running, I’d prefer to stay here,” she answered with an earnest smile. “This is us, Drake. Ours. A new life together. I’m not running from our past, and I never want to forget Tom,” she said, brushing a small tear with her hand. “I just want to start over in a place where we can create new memories.”

“If that’s really what you think, there’s a room that’s already finished.” He threw her a quizzical smile. “Do you remember the drawing you did of how we pictured our house?”

Alexis let out a spontaneous laugh that made Drake's heart leap. “I would barely call the doodles I made drawings, but I remember the moment, yes.”

“Well, I hope I did the doodles justice.” Drake held his breath as he opened the door.

Alexis gasped; he had remembered everything she had dreamed of. A soft, fluffy carpet. A big bed full of cushions, a fireplace warming the room, and the skylight over the bed. The moon and stars lit up the whole room through it.

Mesmerized, she took off the blazer she was wearing, and Drake’s eyes widened. The beige dress she had underneath was tight and hugged every single curve of her body. Suddenly, Drake was very aware of the taunting way she moved; she turned her back on him to look at the fireplace, and his eyes went straight to her bare upper back and the delicate line of her neck. Blushing, he moved to readjust himself. Her thrilled voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“I love it, Drake. Every single part of it! The skylight is exactly how I’d imagined it!” He took off his own jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “What?” she asked, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she realized he was looking intently at her.

“Are you wearing that for me?” Drake’s low baritone and sexy smile made her blush crimson red.

“Maybe,” she answered with the most innocent look in her eyes but a sultry voice.

Drake cut the distance between them; even with her sexy nude heels, he towered over her. “Don’t give me that innocent look, baby,” he growled. “Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Alexis leaned towards him, her hands playing with his collar. “See, Drake, that’s the thing. I don’t want you to control yourself.”

He swept her off her feet. She looped his neck in a burst of roaring laughter. “I want you so fucking much, Lexie,” he told her as he gently dropped her on the bed. Their bed. He hovered over her, holding his weight up with his right arm.

She hid her nose on his neck, inhaling the intoxicating sandalwood. “Me too, Drake.”

“You deserve the world,” Drake said, staring at her almost black eyes looking at him adoringly. He wanted nothing more than to make this night last as long as he possibly could. “It’s been four years that I’ve been thinking about this moment,” he said, gently kissing her cheek. “Four years that I’ve dreamed of making you mine again.” He growled at her ear as he nipped it. “And now, I finally have you here --” He softly bit her neck. “-- all for myself.” He kissed her collarbone as he slowly unzipped her dress. “This damn dress is making me wild, Lexie.”

As he rubbed his thumb on her lips and cheeks, Alexis’ heart beat so fast, she was sure he could hear it. Finally, he kissed her, and time stopped. His lips felt so soft on hers, his tongue so passionate when it slowly entered her mouth, intertwining with hers. His strong hand cupped her head as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly the need became urgent, and he moved to her neck, possessed by the need to claim her. Drake softly sank his teeth in her, making an exhilarated moan escape from her throat.

Slowly, he pulled the dress’ front zipper down, peppering sultry kisses on every inch of skin he discovered, until only her lacy underwear was left. He pulled her to him and kissed her senseless as he unclasped her bra. Her beautiful breasts appeared, her buds erect, ready for him to kiss them. Drake softly flicked his thumbs over them. Then his tongue tasted them, taking pleasure in the sight of Alexis arching her back for him. He took a deep breath until all he could smell was her cherry fragrance. With a cocky smile, he pulled down her last piece of underwear, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable to him.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Lexie,” he groaned as his eyes wandered over her body lit up by the moonlight, and his calloused hands moved down her body, rubbing her face, her breasts, her hips, a trail of excited goosebumps appearing everywhere he touched. “And you are all mine.”

Alexis gave him a flirty smile. “I want to see you too, Drake.” She softly pushed him up until they were both on their knees.

The sight of her naked, kneeling in front of him and undressing him with nervous fingers, desperate to kiss him, to touch him too, almost killed him. She undid his jeans and let her hand wander around his cock. He drank in the sight of her, enjoying her soft, small hand around him for a moment. Her soft, skilled strokes on his impossible hard length felt incredible, but after all the months, the years they had spent apart, he wasn’t going to last long if she continued. “I won’t be able to resist much longer, baby.” He grabbed her wrist. “And there are a lot, a lot of things, I want to do to you first. Lay down,” he growled, standing up to toss off the rest of his clothes.

Alexis felt like she was on fire, ready to explode. Drake’s lips kissing her legs, her knees, and her inner thighs only made the fire wilder. She gripped the sheets when she felt his hot mouth on her, kissing the soft skin around her clit.

“It drives me insane how wet you already are for me, Lex,” he said, parting her lips with his tongue and softly entering her, inebriating himself with her taste.

“Drake, god! Drake,” she chanted again and again as his expert tongue and fingers explored her, thrust inside of her. Feeling the heat build more and more, she tugged his hair, making him smile against her warm skin. Finally, she reached a point of no return and screamed his name again.

Drake smirked. “Fuck, I’ve missed that, baby.”

Still panting, she managed to answer in a soft voice. “Me too, Drake.” Drake caught her lips in a slow, tender kiss as she came down from her high.

“Come here,” he whispered, scooping her and sitting her in his lap. Alexis straddled him, enveloping his torso with her legs. Cradling her with his arms, Drake’s desperate lips ravaged her neck, alternating soft kisses with small bites. Her back arched, giving him full access to her breasts that he cupped, his thumbs slowly circling her hard nipples again. Alexis rolled her hips against him.

Drake chuckled against her neck. “Are you trying to tell me something, Lexie?”

“I need you now, Drake,” she moaned. His cock was already throbbing, but he felt like he was going to burst at her words

“Whatever you want, Alexis.” He positioned himself with the tip of his dick, teasing the little nub of her center. “Look at me, baby. I want to see your pretty eyes as I enter you.”

She locked her burning eyes with him, and he grabbed her hips, confidently guiding her body to enter her folds slowly, giving her time to adjust to him.

The world, the moon, and the stars, everything around them faded. Each set of eyes only saw each other, reflecting the passion, the excitement, the deep love they felt.

“I love you, Lexie,” Drake whispered as he slowly moved inside of her, adoring her smell, the way she moved, how she moaned his name.

“I love you too, Drake,” Alexis whispered back, reveling in the sensation of him filling her completely. Of her heart racing with every delicious thrust. Of his strong arms holding her tightly, safely. Of his hands caressing her back. “I feel you everywhere, Drake, god.”

They rocked their hips at the same pace, increasing speed as their movements became more passionate, more desperate. He ground into her powerfully, feeling her walls tighten around him. The sensation was unbelievable, an exceptional connection that neither of them could ever experience with anyone else. “Come with me, baby,” he whispered as his hand reached her center, allowing his thumb to rub the little nub in it, making her lose her mind. Alexis couldn’t formulate a coherent thought, let alone talk, as the most intense wave of pleasure of her life came cresting over her. A powerful “Drake!” escaped her lips as she climaxed.

His name on her swollen lips and the way she was still vibrating against him pushed him over the edge.

“Mine, Lexie, mine,” he growled, marking her neck as he filled her in complete ecstasy.

He pulled her into his chest, both of them silently enjoying their descent from heaven.

He held her tightly, kissing the top of her head as he lazily rubbed her back, incapable to stop touching her.

“A penny for your thoughts, Lexie.”

She looked at him through her eyelashes, smiling.

“I was just thinking about how absolutely perfect this was.” She stroked his chiseled abs with her hand.

He smirked. “You’re perfect, baby. A fucking work of art.”

Alexis smiled against his chest, a pleasant feeling of utter happiness settling in her chest.

Part of the night was spent with tender whispers, passionate touches, and shared laughs. The rest, they spent rediscovering every nook and hidden corner of each other’s bodies as if they were trying to recoup the last five years in a few hours. Finally, the morning lights caught them sleeping tangled in each other’s bodies. Drake opened his eyes first, smiling as he hadn’t done in five years.

“Good morning, baby,” he whispered in her ear, waking her up.

“Nuh, uh, too early.” She hid her head under the pillow.

“You have to see this, Lexie. Wake up,” he said softly, kissing her bare back.

“God, I’ve forgotten how good you are at motivating a girl.”

Drake chuckled. “Come here.”

Wrapped in the sheets with Drake hugging her tightly from behind, Lexie sat on the porch in front of the lake, and she understood why he had woken her up. In front of her eyes, a sumptuous spectacle of pink, ochre and golden sun rays extended over the glowing lake. It was the most stunning sunrise she had ever seen.

“There’s something I need to tell you that might change your mind about us,” Alexis warned him cautiously. She bit her lips, feeling remorseful. She should have discussed it the day before, but selfishly, she had wanted to enjoy the night with Drake.

He almost laughed at the idea. “Nothing would change my mind, Lexie. Test me.”

She took a deep breath and let the sentence out as fast as she could. “I don’t know if I ever want any more children, but I don’t think so.” She carefully gauged his reaction as she asked. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered sincerely. “I didn’t for a long time; I was adamant. ” He looked tenderly at her. “Now, I’m not so sure, but I do know that the idea scares the shit out of me.”

Alexis let out a relieved breath. “Me too.”

“I’ll tell you this. We’ll revisit the idea in a few years, but we won’t do it unless we’re both sure. Deal?”

“And what if I don’t change my mind, and you do?” she asked worriedly.

“Then we won’t, Lexie. All I want out of life I have right here,” he said, holding her even tighter. “Nine years ago, in my vows, I told you that I loved the fire in your eyes and how much you love life. I told you that I would always take care of that gorgeous inner light of yours. But I didn’t do a great job.” Alexis was about to protest, but Drake put his thumb on her lips, smiling. "I promise that I’ll devote the rest of my life to making you happy. I’m so proud of you, of everything you are, Lexie. I love you more than I did back then, much more.” He opened his palm, where he had their wedding rings in his hand. “I always knew that one day we would be wearing these again, Mrs. Walker.”

Alexis beamed. “I love you, too. You have no idea how much. For years, I felt lifeless, and now just looking at you, my heart hammers, Drake. You take away the emptiness, the sadness. You make me so incredibly happy.”

A bittersweet tear escaped from her eyes when she extended her hand and watched, immensely moved, how Drake slid her wedding band and engagement ring on her finger. Then she put his on.

Relieved, she turned her head up and caught his lips in a delicious, deep kiss.

Drake noticed a small, tiny tear. “What’s up, Lexie?”

“I was really convinced that I could never feel this extremely elated again, and now that I do, I also feel …” She stopped in her tracks.

“Guilty. You feel guilty for feeling happy.”

She nodded slowly.

“Me too.” Drake rubbed her cheek with his hand. “I think we have to learn to live with that, baby. Tom will always be here. He’ll always hurt.”

Alexis snuggled against him as Drake drew her into his arms. A loving smile spread on her lips; no matter how difficult or painful their grief would be in the future, they would be facing it togther.

The End.

#tw child death #tw dark fic #tw grief #tw grieving #drake x mc #drake walker #axwalker writes #drake walker fanfic #alexis o'brien #n*sfw #n*fw

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miraclesnail · 4 years

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Stolen Hoodies and Chicken Notes

Summary: Most people wake up to their significant other giving them a sweet, morning kiss. Maybe a cuddle that’ll devolve into a tickling fest. Maybe a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Will wakes up to his hoodie stolen.

Relationship: Travis/Will

Rating: G

Warnings: Brief mention of trauma/nightmares

Length: 2k

ao3 link *** ffn link

fic under the read more

At the first light, when the dark skies give way to navy blue and one can just barely see the wisp of sunlight, that’s when all Apollo's children wake up. A gift from their father, he guesses considering his role as an Olympian is to pull the sun.

Start the day early, get the most out of life.

Some hate it, waking up so early, a full hour before they really need to get ready for the day. Will can hear some of his siblings groan and shift in their bed, most falling back asleep.

He used to hate it too. Hate waking so early and having to just lay there until it’s really time to get up.

Now he cherishes this little gift their father blessed them with.

Most people wake up to their significant other giving them a sweet, morning kiss. Maybe a cuddle that’ll devolve into a tickling fest. Maybe a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee.

Will usually wakes up to his hoodie stolen and a chocolate chicken sitting on top of a piece of paper.

Travis is weird that way.

And today is no different.

Will wakes up from his internal clock and takes a second to gather himself. Then he rises to his elbows, looks to his night table, and sees the faint outline of the chicken from the nightlight. It’s hard not to smile as he gingerly takes the chicken into his hands and grapples around in the dark for the note that always accompanies it. He finds it and from that cursory touch, it feels like a standard flashcard.

Will flips around and silently wiggles his way to his drawer at the foot of his bunk bed. A quick check inside confirms one out of the two hoodies he owns is missing.

He never knows when Travis does this. He tried staying up all night to catch him in the act. But a little blink and maybe a five-minute doze, and poof, the items were on the table and his hoodie gone without a trace. Locking the door. Locking the window. Setting a tripwire or a net or flour all proved to be ineffective.

Will sinks back onto his bed, reaches for the flashlight he hides in the space between the mattress and the frame of the bunk bed. Then he ducks under his blankets.

He switches the light on, stifling a laugh as he gets a view of the chocolate. The expression on the chicken is definitely getting more detailed. Before it was just a single dot for the eye, no beak, and just the general shape of a baby chick. Now, the chicken is much more complicated. He can see the details of the feather. Can count the number of tails feathers. Can see the claws of the chicken.

It’s so stupid. Adorably stupid.

Will shines the light on the notecard.

There’s three lines of text, the top two in Japanese. He knows for sure the top line says, ‘Good Morning, Beautiful. You know who it is :D’. The middle line he isn’t too sure. And the third line, like always, is the romanization translation, ‘enpitsu’.

Will reaches under blindly and pulls out all the dictionaries he has under the night table. A little quick check and he has his translation.

“He’s so extra,” a voice whispers.

Will turns his flashlight off and lifts the blanket. On the bed next to him, Kayla is grinning fondly, laying stomach down and her cheek against her pillow.

“I think it’s cute,” Will whispers back as he stands and looks around for a pencil. He finds it on the window sill his night table is against. With practiced ease, Will opens his drawer, removes his only other hoodie, a blanket, and sneaks out of his cabin.

***

Will doesn’t know why it started. He never told Travis about his father’s gift. Or maybe he picked it up during the week or so gap Apollo usually has before claiming his kids. Travis is certainly observant for that despite the general consensus the camp seems to have about Travis and Connor sharing one brain cell. Either way, Travis knows and Travis somehow uses it to make a game.

The first time it happened, Will didn’t even catch it until Kayla pointed it out for him late in the morning as he searched for his hoodie.

“Hey, Will, what’s this?”

A blob of chocolate sits at his night table with a flashcard.

“Guess who! :)” Will translates from the Greek text. On the back, it also says in Greek, “I took your hoodie.”

And from there it evolved.

The chocolate blob becomes more refined, more chicken-like.

The notecards change language every day. Greek one day. Latin the next. Spanish. French. Chinese. Korean. Arabic.

Will acquires his needed dictionaries from Annabeth and a low-power flashlight from Leo.

It became a fun little game to wake up and translate the text while nibbling on the chicken.

“Good morning”

“I finally learned how to bake!”

“I named the chicken Pip.”

“I’m also learning how to make coffee latte art.”

“Guess how many languages I know.”

“Do you mind me stealing your hoodies?”

Simple. Harmless. Little things he can do while he waits for the time to really start the day. (Much, much better than just lying in bed and thinking about the war, about Lee and Michael, about the friends he lost, about the friends who left, about the people he couldn’t save, the people he had to kill, the people he—)

It’s nice.

To focus on something else.

Then it stops becoming simple and harmless. (“It’s still pretty harmless,” Travis would probably argue.)

“Come to Zeus’s Fist?”

Leave the cabin? Before curfew is over? That’s breaking the rules. He can't.

It takes a whole fifteen, agonizing minutes before Will finally stands up and puts on his sneakers.

He gets to Zeus’s Fist after another 15 minutes. Before he could climb the pile of rocks though two voices, similar in tone and pitch, say, “Oh my god, he actually did it.”

“What? Who? Will?”

Will glances up to find Travis and Connor, hopping down Zeus’s Fist. One smiling. The other frowning. One wearing his hoodie. And the other wearing not his hoodie.

Will hates to admit it, but he still can’t tell them apart even though he’s dating Travis.

“You actually did it,” the one wearing his hoodie says with a bright smile. He turns to his brother and holds out a palm. “Where’re my five bucks, Connor?”

Connor grumbles and stuffs a crumpled bill in Travis’s waiting palm. “You couldn’t be a good boy for once in your life like you always are, huh?” Connor says. “Had to sneak out of your cabin like Travis asked.”

“If it makes you feel better, I got caught by a harpy,” Will offers with an apologetic shrug.

“How did you get her to let you go?”

“When you have a good reputation, you can get away with anything.”

It takes all about two seconds for Connor to figure it out. “Oh my gods, you lied to her!”

Will flushes as Travis wraps a shoulder over his arm and laughs. “Aww, we’re such bad influences on you. Next thing you know you’re going to be the third person in our pranking schemes. Come on, since you’re here, want to watch the sunrise with us?”

And it evolves more from there.

More complicated messages. More dictionaries. More detailed chocolate chickens. More sneaking out. More losing his good reputation with the harpies. Then having lessons on sneaking out. Having lots of lessons on sneaking out. Becoming extremely good at sneaking out.

No more encountering the harpies. No more endangering his good boy status though that may be questionable now with the way he keeps breaking the rules.

But like Travis always says.

Everything goes as long as one doesn't get caught.

***

Translate the note. Get the item. Make it to Zeus’s Fist.

That’s the game.

“You know my dad’s animal is the raven? Not the chicken?” Will says as he trudges up to Zeus’s Fist.

Travis’s head pops over the rocks and even down below, Will can see the smirk and his stolen hoodie on Travis’s lean body.

“No entry until you brought the secret item,” says Travis in a dramatic, booming voice.

Will waves the pencil.

“Alright, you can come up.”

It takes a few minutes for him to climb Zeus’s fist. Travis is standing at the top with a hand to help pull him up.

Will says it again, “My dad’s animal is the raven, not the chicken.”

“What?!” Travis gawks at him. “They’re not? Really? Really? So all this time, I've been making the wrong animal?”

And it’s so stupidly cute, but Will maintains his composure. “It’s fine though. I mean, it’s cute.”

Will looks around, noticing the lack of a third person.

“Where’s Connor?”

“Sleeping peacefully for once. No nightmares tonight I guess.”

“Nightmares?”

“From the second titan war, you know?”

Will’s throat dries. “Ah. Right.”

He coughs into his fist. “Do you, uh, get them too?”

Travis fidgets with the hoodie, chuckling. Will comes to learn something about Travis. He’s not the open type of a person despite him being such a talker and as good as a liar he is, he has certain tells that give him away.

“Sometimes,” Travis chuckles, looking down and scraping the heel of his shoes against the rock. Translation: every day. “ But it’s nothing too bad you know.” Grinning after flexing his hand. Translation: it’s pretty bad . “I keep myself busy though. It’s easy to not think about it when you’re busy.”

Hence this. Hence the nightly escapades. Hence the little games. Distractions. They’re all distractions and distractions work great.

“Well, I brought the blanket.” And Will holds it up. “Wanna watch the sunrise?”

“You know it. Oh! Let’s have a competition. Whoever can name the most constellations.”

“Sure.”

Will lays down the blanket and sits, leaning back on his arms. Travis sits down beside him, dropping gracefully and resting his head on Will’s shoulder.

“But before that, why don’t you try speaking to me in Japanese?” Travis says with a cheeky grin, “You got the basics down already, right? I can supplement what you don’t know.”

“It’s going to sound pretty awful. My pronunciation will probably be all wack,” Will snorts.

“And I told you that it is fine, buddy,” Travis says, nudging him with his shoulders. “Let me hear it. I can help you with the pronunciation. Plus~” Will doesn’t have to look over to know Travis is wiggling his eyebrows, “I know some pretty nice, interesting facts about Japan culture too. Like, did you know on Christmas Eve, couples go out for fried chickens and exchange presents?”

“And you want me to buy you fried chicken.”

Travis grins charmingly. “I mean, we would share, but yes! I do want you to buy me some chickens.”

Will takes a breath, digs deep in his memories, then says in Japanese, “‘ I want to go to Japan one day.’”

Travis is silent for a moment, eyebrows furrowing, mouth moving like he’s saying the phrase himself, before beaming. “Nice! Pretty accurate. Pronunciation is pretty good. But change the particle ‘de’ to ‘ni’.”

“So what about ‘ I ate cake yesterday’? ”

Travis hums. “Not as accurate this time. Move yesterday to the front of the sentence. But still pretty good pronunciation.”

“Then what about my name? How do you spell that in Japanese?”

“Let me see your palm?”

Travis takes his hands and writes the katakana on his palm with a pen. “Here you go. One more sentence. Use the word pencil in it.”

And that’s how it goes.

Will sneaks out, breaks a couple of rules, attends a language class 101, and watches the sun rise.

And for one hour, he forgets it all and lives like nothing is wrong.

#pjo #will solace #travis stoll #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #non-canon relationship #romance #and now it's back to watching spn #Willvis

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badchoicesposts · 4 years

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Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 22

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar), Platonic!Drake x MC

DISCLAIMER: I’ve changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I’ve based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season.

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @ao719, @kingliam2019, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @lauradowning29, @texaskitten30, @senseofduties, @alexintheskyy, @jared2612

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve ever written. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Catch Up: Masterlist

There was an almost murderous look in the king’s eyes as his gaze swept over the engagement ring and wedding band on Ali’s finger. There was a brief passing of sadness and familiarity on his face as he stared at the diamond of the engagement ring, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. Liam gripped onto Ali’s hand tightly, his stance protective as he faced his father and stepmother.

“I did what I thought was best for my child and the woman I love,” he responded, squaring his shoulders and bringing himself up to full height.

Ali almost smirked at his actions. She knew very well that Liam was trained to understand and utilize body language, and he was most definitely aware that what he was doing made himself seem more intimidating. She bet Constantine never expected Liam to use any of those tricks on him.

“How do you even know that the child is yours?” Regina jumped in.

Ali wanted to be offended, but at this point, she wasn’t sure if there was anything Regina could say to do so. After offering to pay her off to leave the county and abort the baby, it was obvious that neither of them had much love for each other.

“How do you know it’s not Drake Walker’s?” the woman continued.

“Because I trust her. That article was purely fiction and based only on rumors,” Liam responded.

“Yeah, rumors that the two of you played a hand in starting,” Leo said, looking pointedly at his father and stepmother.

Leo’s words caused everyone to pause. A tense silence filled the room as everyone took in his statement.

“What are you talking about?” Liam asked, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“Charlie noticed another member of the Guard had been hanging around you a lot recently. More than he should have been. Bastien confronted him and found out that he was operating under the king and queen’s orders. When Madeleine saw you and Drake at The Derby, she took the first set of pictures and brought them to our father and Regina. It was dear old dad’s idea to release the pictures to the press and start rumors about you and Drake. He saw it as an easy way of getting you out of the competition, and I believe it was Regina’s idea to have someone follow the two of you. She knew that you were friends, so it was just a matter of time before you ended up alone together again. From there it’s pretty easy to make it seem like there’s something going on, even if there isn’t,” Leo began. “Madeleine was just a puppet. The guard was supposed to go to her with any information he found out, and she was in charge of releasing it. She tried leaking the story of the child being Drake’s, but Bastien bought back the photos, so when they couldn’t be published, she decided to make the announcement in front of everyone at dinner. She’s definitely not innocent in all of this, but our father and Regina were the ones pulling her strings.”

Ali tried to choke back a laugh, but instead it came out as an odd snort. They were really coming at her from all sides. It would almost be amusing if it hadn’t made her life so miserable the past few months. Everyone turned to look at her curiously.

“Sorry, sorry. Please keep yelling,” she said sarcastically.

“If it makes you feel any better, she genuinely thought that the baby was Drake’s,” Leo said.

“Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Ali said, letting out a genuine laugh at his comment.

Leo simply shrugged in response only adding to the odd sense of hilarity of the situation in Ali’s mind. This was all so chaotic that she couldn’t fully process her emotions. She couldn’t believe her life had taken this turn in the first place. The past week was a blur, and if she was being honest, she wasn’t even sure what day it was. In her mind, Leo’s ability to somehow stay calm and lighthearted in this situation made it all even more comical.

“This is ridiculous!” Constantine yelled, picking up where they had left off as if nothing happened. “How do you expect to lead a country if you can’t even be trusted to make a decision as simple as choosing the correct wife.”

“You don’t get to decide whether or not the person I chose is ‘correct’,” Liam argued. “Besides, we still haven’t addressed the fact that you set her up and then tried to pay her off to get rid of the baby!”

He turned to Regina angrily. Liam rarely ever raised his voice, and he almost never got angry. He was one of the most patient people she had ever met. It was one of the many things that Ali loved about him. So, she knew how upset he must be if he was doing so. She chewed on her thumb nail anxiously, an uncomfortable smile on her face.

“Which you should have agreed with! It would have fixed all of our problems! But, instead you married her!” Constantine pushed in.

Every word out of his mouth was becoming more and more aggressive, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting them out.

“This conversation isn’t getting us anywhere. I’ve already drawn up the annulment papers. All you have to do is sign them,” Constantine barked out, reaching inside his desk drawer and grabbing the documents.

He slammed them down on the desk and held a pen out for Liam to take, looking at him challengingly. Liam crossed his arms over his chest.

“No.”

The room was deathly silent as the two faced off. The tension in the room was palpable, and Constantine looked like he was going to explode from anger at any moment.

“Sign the damn papers, Liam!”

Ali let out another cackle, not able to hold it back this time, before dissolving into laughter. There was just so much going on, and she didn’t know how to react or what to do with herself, so she laughed. She laughed to keep herself from actually losing her mind. They were talking about her as if she wasn’t standing right there. Not to mention the fact that hearing she was basically the root of all of their problems didn’t exactly ease her discomfort. They all turned to look at her as if she were crazy, which, honestly, she felt like she was. Constantine’s chest was heaving as he tried to regain his breath after the intensity of the argument. He tried to hold back a cough, but it escaped anyway, and his wife looked at him in concern but said nothing.

“I’m sorry… I’m just… so uncomfortable. I don’t even know… how I got here,” she choked out in between giggles as she doubled over in laughter. “This is ridiculous! I never… stood a chance… They were… they were both coming after me.”

She grabbed onto Leo’s arm to steady herself as she continued to laugh uncontrollably, tears welling up in her eyes.

“And I’m pregnant! I’m actually pregnant!” she continued, her head falling back as she continued to chuckle. “Can you believe that?”

“Uh, Liam, I think she’s broken,” Leo said hesitantly, looking at her now red face.

His comment only served to further her amusement, and she snorted from how forcefully she was laughing.

“For god’s sake, will you stop laughing!” the king screamed, slamming his hand down on his desk.

Ali brought her hand up to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggles as Constantine dissolved into a coughing fit. He slumped over in his chair as Regina rushed to his side, taking hold of his arms and helping him sit down.

“Father! Are you okay?” Liam asked rushing to his side as well.

All traces of laughter were gone as everyone looked on at the man who had seemed so healthy just moments ago. Leo rushed to the drink cart in the corner of the room and poured a glass of water for him, helping him take small sips of the liquid. Constantine sat quietly for a few moments, allowing his breathing to return to normal before addressing his sons again.

“This is why it’s so important that you choose the right person,” he said, his voice hoarse but calm.

“You’re sick,” Liam concluded, backing away from his father in surprise.

He backed into Ali’s arms, leaning into her embrace for support. She squeezed him tightly, wishing that the action in itself could absorb some of his pain.

“A monarch has never stepped down in the way that I have chosen to do. I feared that having someone so inexperienced become queen would be too much change too quickly and that the people would suffer for it.”

“So, you are sick?” Leo prompted, looking just as pained as his brother and needing a confirmation.

Constantine sighed and looked over at the two of them sadly.

“I have an aggressive form of lung cancer. My days are numbered,” he finally admitted.

Leo ran his hands down his face, turning away from him and walking across the room to stare out the window. Liam pulled himself out of Ali’s arms and made to walk over to his father before abruptly stopping.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked, his voice broken and defeated.

“Worrying you with this wouldn’t have helped any of us,” Constantine said, waving his hand dismissively.

He was trying to put up a mask of indifference, but Ali saw right through it, and she was sure everyone else in the room did too.

“So, instead you tried to hurt the only woman I’ve ever loved every step of the way to get what you wanted instead,” Liam said in the same tired voice. “You decided to make the social season as difficult as it could be for her, and you manipulated Madeleine into helping you.”

Constantine didn’t respond, instead looking staring straight ahead at the wall. Ali wanted to be angry. She wanted to yell and scream about the fact that they were trying to sabotage her, that they were willing to drag her name and reputation through the mud by alleging an affair with one of her best friends. Because of him she had received death threats and an almost unbearable amount of hate from people she had never even met on the internet. She had been forced to deal with whisperings of people calling her a whore and demeaning her. She had been humiliated. She wanted to rage about the fact that they had tried to keep her and Liam apart, that they had wanted her to get rid of their child. That Constantine had just tried to force them into annulling their marriage.

But, instead she saw a broken family in front of her. She saw the man she loved hurting because the person who raised him was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. She didn’t want to force herself into their family business, but then she remembered that it wasn’t just their family anymore. It was her family now too.

“Liam and I are married, and by now I’m sure everyone already knows about it,” she said calmly, taking control of the conversation. “Trying to break it off will only make things look worse for Liam. Right now it can be played off as abrupt. Something that we did in the heat of the moment because of our love for each other and our child. But, if it gets out that we got the marriage annulled or that we got divorced, it’ll make Liam look even more reckless than he already does, and that’ll make people question his ability to lead.”

She squared her shoulders the same way Liam had a few moments ago and moved to stand in front of her now father-in-law.

“I know that you don’t think I can handle this, and that whole laughing fit may not have helped your opinion, but that doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t know me, and you don’t know what I can handle or what I can do. You can scheme and manipulate as much as you want, but you don’t know what I’m capable of. I’m not taking any of this lightly. I came here knowing very well what I was getting myself into. I’m not going to lie to you and say that I’ve always been confident in that decision, but I know what I want now. I know who I am. Liam’s my husband for better or for worse, and I’m going to rule by his side. Let me worry about showing the people what I can do, about showing them that I’ll be a good queen. All you need to do is focus on living long enough to see me prove you wrong,” she said.

Everyone seemed stunned by her sudden surge in confidence. She was owning the room. She looked strong. She looked regal.

“Just focus on living long enough to meet your grandchild, okay?” she finished, a kinder look in her eyes as she placed her hand on her stomach.

Constantine looked down at her hand, the ring that he had given Liam’s mother all those years ago sparkling on Ali’s finger. He remained silent for a moment, before looking back up at her.

“Okay.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, surprised to see Constantine agree so quickly. Ali didn’t know what to do next. She hadn’t really planned that far ahead.

“Well, I believe we have a ball to plan,” Regina said, finally breaking the silence.

“A ball?” Ali questioned.

“The people have already been deprived of seeing a large, royal wedding. We need to hold some kind of celebration.”

Ali forced herself not to roll her eyes.

“Okay. Let’s plan a ball.”

~~~

Ali was frantic. She was running around the ballroom in sweatpants trying to make sure that everything was going to be perfect for the ball tonight. After being appointed the new Duchess of Valtoria, she had spent the past week planning her and Liam’s celebratory ball with Regina while also travelling back and forth between the Capital and Valtoria in attempts to juggle all of her new responsibilities. She was still settling into her new role as duchess and had only managed to plan this ball because of the Queen’s help. However, the other woman had ever so kindly left her to finish up the last minute preparations on her own. She was sure that Regina had done so on purpose as some sort of test, but she didn’t have the time to be bitter because there still seemed to be a million things that needed to be done. Every time she crossed something off of her checklist, ten more things seemed to pop up.

She checked the time on her phone and began to panic even more. There was two hours and twenty minutes left until the ball, and she still needed to make sure all of the center pieces were arranged properly on the tables, check in with the orchestra, read through the guest list so she didn’t accidentally get the Swedish and Norwegian dignitaries confused, approve the seating arrangement, check in with the kitchen and wait staff, and make sure the damn ice sculpture that Regina insisted on having was delivered and in place before guests started arriving. Not to mention, she still had to shower and get dressed.

“You look crazy,” Drake said, walking up behind her and glancing around the ballroom.

Ali sighed in relief as she turned to face him.

“Drake, have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person in the whole wide world?” she asked, smiling at him sweetly.

He rolled his eyes in response.

“What do you need?”

“Can you run to the kitchen and make sure that everything is okay? Here’s a copy of the menu and appetizers,” she said, ripping a piece of paper out of the binder in her hands, “Just make sure that everything is prepared or will be prepared in time, and then meet me back here.”

She tried handing it to him only to see that he wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were locked on a woman standing a few feet away from them with a few of her coworkers, helping set the tables. The woman was stealing glances back at Drake as well, a small smile on her face the entire time. The name “Blanca” was written on her nametag, and Ali made a mental note of it before snapping her fingers in front of Drake’s face to bring his attention back to her.

“You can stare at the hot waitress later. Right now I need you in the kitchen,” she said, shoving the paper into his hands and pushing him in the direction of the ballroom doors.

Ali pulled the flashcards that Liam made her out from the pocket of the hoodie that she was wearing and began flipping through them as she made her way out to meet with the conductor of the orchestra.

“Lady Amelia Edwards, daughter of Count-,” she trailed off as she ran head first into a tall figure.

“I’m so sorry,” she began to apologize to the woman, before looking up and seeing that she was walking with Maxwell who was holding a baby in his arms.

“Ali! This is, um, this is Savannah. Savannah Walker,” Maxwell said, motioning to Savannah.

Ali’s jaw dropped, and she froze in place for a moment before quickly recovering, properly taking in the appearance of the woman for the first time.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” she said happily, once she had come back to her senses.

She was about to hold her hand out for Savannah to shake, when the other woman surprised her by pulling her into a warm hug. Well, it would have been warm if there hadn’t been a two inch binder stuck awkwardly between the two of them.

“It’s nice to meet you, too! I’ve heard all about you! Drake used to talk about you all the time, and Maxwell kept me caught up on all of the court gossip while I was away. I feel like we’re already friends.”

“I didn’t know you were in contact with Maxwell,” Ali couldn’t stop herself from saying.

“Yeah, Savannah’s been in Paris,” Maxwell said nervously.

Drake had been agonizing over the fact that he didn’t know where his sister was, and she couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that Maxwell knew of her location the entire time.

“And who’s this little guy?” Ali asked, fearing that she already knew the answer.

She made a face at the baby in Maxwell’s arms causing him to smile and reach his hand out toward her. She grabbed his little fist in her hand gently, and his laughter grew louder at her action.

“This is my son, Bartie,” Savannah said.

“Bartie? Like short for Barthelemy? Barthelemy Beaumont?” she rambled.

She was met with silence from the both of them, and she turned to glare at Maxwell as if to ask him what he was thinking.

“No! He’s not mine. I’m just the fun uncle.”

Ali let out a relieved breath.

“Oh, thank god! I was afraid for your life for a sec. Drake would have murdered you,” she let out a laugh, before fully processing his words. “Wait, fun uncle? You-you mean Bertrand?”

Maxwell and Savannah glanced at each other before Maxwell nodded slowly.

“I can’t believe he never mentioned having a baby!” she exclaimed.

Maxwell and Savannah shared another look, but both remained silent.

“Bertrand... doesn’t know,” Maxwell said, cringing as the words left his mouth.

So Drake’s sister left because she was pregnant with Bertrand’s child. A child he didn’t know she was pregnant with. Ali felt like she needed a drink. A drink that she couldn’t have now that she was pregnant.

“Hey, Moonessar, everything’s good in the kitchen,” Drake said from somewhere behind her.

She heard his footsteps stop abruptly, and turned to see him looking at the three of them with his jaw hanging open.

“Savannah?” he questioned, his voice betraying his disbelief.

At that moment, Bartie started to squirm in Maxwell’s arms, soft whimpers escaping his mouth as he reached for Savannah.

“It’s okay, Bartie. Mama’s here,” she said in a quiet voice, lifting him from Maxwell’s arms and holding him close to her chest.

“Mama?” Drake questioned again, his jaw hanging open.

Savannah gave him a strained smile as she began to walk up and down the hall, bouncing the child on her hip to soothe his cries. Drake seemed to snap out of his trance and turned to angrily face Maxwell. He opened his mouth in what Ali was sure was an attempt to yell at the other man, before she ran to his side and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Drake, stay calm,” she said in a stern voice.

“Calm? Really? You want me to stay calm?” he yelled, agitated.

She squeezed his shoulder tighter, and forced him to keep his eyes on her.

“Look, I’m not completely sure what’s going on, and I don’t necessarily agree with Savannah leaving without telling you or Bertrand, but she must have had her reasons. You shouldn’t get mad before listening to her.”

“Bertrand? What does he have to do with this?”

Ali took a step back and smiled at him sheepishly, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

“So, uh, about that,” she began, anxiously wringing her hands.

“Bertrand is Bartie’s father,” Savannah said, walking back over to them.

“Sorry,” Ali mumbled to her.

She stepped back to stand awkwardly next to Maxwell. They watched as Drake stood next to his sister, shell shocked and completely silent. After a few moments, he simply turned on his heels and began to walk away. Ali looked at his back questioningly before realizing that he couldn’t see her expression to respond. Maxwell and Savannah both looked troubled, but she soon realized that neither of them planned on going after him. When she noticed this, she took off running in attempts to catch up.

“Drake! Wait, I have little legs!” she called trying to get him to stop.

However, he kept moving, three of her strides equalling about one of his.

“You shouldn’t make the pregnant lady run after you!” she called, knowing that she wasn’t far along enough to have a bump slow her down, but that this would most likely cause him to stop.

She was right, and he froze in place, his shoulders slumping as he waited for her to catch up to him. He resumed walking when she had finally made her way next to him. The path to the maze came into view as they continued moving in silence, Ali letting him have the time he needed to process his feelings, while also letting him know she was there for him.

“She obviously doesn’t want me involved in her new life,” he said sadly.

“What? Drake you don’t know that.”

“She never wrote or called. She left, had a baby, and didn’t tell me about it.”

“She must have had her reasons. It probably wasn’t easy finding out she was pregnant with a duke’s baby, but she’s here now. You should listen to her and hear what she has to say,” Ali said, attempting to calm him down enough to not screw up his relationship with his sister.

“You found out you were pregnant with Liam’s kid, and you didn’t leave or run away,” he pointed out.

Ali cringed. She didn’t necessarily agree with Savannah leaving without telling her brother of the father of her child that he was even a father in the first place, but she forced herself to remember that she wasn’t personally in Savannah’s situation. She didn’t know what her relationship with Bertrand was like.

“That’s not the same thing,” she tried to reason.

“Yeah, you’re right. It could have been so much worse for you. You got pregnant with the future king’s baby. She got pregnant with Bertrand’s,” he said, saying the other man’s name with disgust.

Ali grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop, forcing him to look at her once again.

“Look, we don’t know what her relationship with Bertrand was like. You have every reason to be upset about how she left, but at least she’s here now. You can talk to her. Tell her about how it made you feel. If not for her, do it for yourself. She’s your sister, and even if you’re mad and hurt right now, you love her.”

Drake didn’t have time to respond. A member of the wait staff came running up behind them, cutting their conversation short.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, my lady, but the ice sculpture has arrived,” the young man said.

Ali froze in place for a moment, overwhelmed by everything that was going on. She looked back over to Drake, and the man simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Go. Duty calls.”

Ali rolled her eyes and ran back inside. She directed a few members of the staff to put it in the corner of the room and stopped in the middle of the ballroom trying to figure out what to do next. She wanted to go back out to the maze and sit with Drake. He had been there for her every step of the way and now that he needed someone in return she couldn’t return the favor. But, she also had a list of chores to get done and a ball to get ready for, with only one hour and forty-seven minutes left to do it all. She caught sight of Blanca across the room and smiled evilly to herself. She ran to the bar across the room and asked the bartender for a bottle of Drake’s favorite whiskey.

“Oh, it’s not for me,” she said awkwardly, when the man looked at her oddly.

He gave her the bottle and two glasses she asked for anyway, and she ran across the room to the unsuspecting woman.

“Hi, Blanca, right?” she asked with a sweet smile, causing her to look at her questioningly.

“Yes.”

“I have a kind of weird request for you. You know Drake Walker right? Prince Liam’s best friend? Tall, dark, and broody?”

Blanca blushed slightly and nodded, only causing Ali to smile wider.

“Well, he’s kind of having a rough night, and I would go deliver this to him myself, but I’m kind of busy. Would you mind doing it for me? He’s out in the maze.”

The woman looked at her nervously for a moment.

“I’m not sure if I should. I’m in the middle of a shift,” she said hesitantly.

“I mean technically you would be working under the orders of your future queen,” Ali said, figuring that using the title would go a long way in convincing the woman. “And I would be happy to vouch for you if any questions are asked.”

“Okay,” Blanca said, taking the bottle from her.

Ali lit up with a smile.

“Great! Go, talk, drink, makeout, whatever!” she said, pushing Blanca out the ballroom doors.

“Wait, what?” Blanca asked, her face turning bright red.

“Nothing! Have fun,” Ali called over her shoulder as she ran back into the ballroom to finish getting everything ready for the ball.

#the royal romance #the royal heir #trr #trh #liam x mc #liam #king liam #my fics #liam x mc fanfic #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices #choices fanfic

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thejollyroger-writer · 5 years

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Historical Inaccuracies

a/n: Inspired by a chat in the discord, this story was born out of Killian’s love for history and America’s hatred for the British while on historical tours. Up until last night, this fic was lovingly referred to as “the history nerd fic,” and it is dedicated to @welllpthisishappening @profdanglaisstuff @kmomof4 and @shireness-saysIt is, of course, Fourth of July themed, like all of Mary Margaret’s outfits on this trip.

Read it on AO3 if that’s more your jam

3k words // rated G

SUMMARY: When David and Mary Margaret's son wants to go on the Freedom Walk guided tour in Boston for his birthday, Emma and Killian tag along, still hiding their relatively-new relationship from their friends. But when the tour guide starts to berate a certain group of people from across the pond, both Killian's anger and their relationship come out.

-----

Killian would do anything for his godson. Of course, he would do anything for his nephew, Charlie, too, but the hour-long car trip from Boston to Northbridge is far easier than the flight across the Atlantic to his brother and his wife in England.

But this? This is a new level of Hell, right here in the middle of Boston.

Not all of it is terrible. He gets to share an apartment with his girlfriend, their fairly-new relationship still a secret to their best friends. They both took off work for Leo’s birthday celebration, so they get to spend a few days together, without either of them having to worry about their jobs, since she could manage a few days without going after someone who skipped bail, and his university was off for the summer. And their best friends are back in town, their seven-year-old in tow. It really was a “stay-cation” that he was looking forward to, especially since the thing Leo wanted the most was to spend days on historical tours of Killian's favorite city, some of them led by Killian himself, and others led by costumed tour guides in celebration of the Fourth of July week in Boston.

But it's one of these costumed tour guides that is putting Killian through hell. Ben. Ben, a twenty-something year old, probably a college student, with shaggy ginger hair and a freckle-covered face, wearing an American Revolutionary War uniform.

He got through the part of the tour where Ben referred to the British soldiers during the Revolutionary War as the “bloody Brits,” paired with a terrible fake accent. He got through the discussion of the Boston Tea Party where Ben instead referred to them only as the “Colonizers.”

But now?

“You know,” Ben says, turning around to look at their small group as he leads them down the last few blocks towards the Faneuil Market, the ending place for their tour. “We focus so much on the Brits of the past on this tour, but what about the Brits of the present?”

There’s a small smattering of laughter from the group, but Killian squeezes his hands into fists, tight enough for them to quickly start shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Emma turn to him, making sure he is okay, and though he is decidedly not, there’s nothing they can do without calling attention to him.

This is one form of torture. Everyone around him learning he is one of these bloody Brits would be something more. Or, he fears it would. Hence why he hasn’t spoken since the tour started, simply happy to be spending time with the people closest to him.

“It’s one thing to colonize countries when it was all the rage. Everyone was colonizing when the British ruled the Americas, and the Brits colonized everyone — but to still have colonies? In the twenty-first century?”

There’s a mumble of approval through the group.

Killian just rolls his eyes.

“And who still has a queen, in this day and age?” he jokes, and this gets a few laughs in response. “Nowadays, the Royal Family seems more like the stars of a reality show then the people ruling a nation. I mean, why does it matter what the prince’s wife wears on a daily basis? That’s the status of a celebrity, not of a woman who might one day rule the whole country.” There are a few more laughs, the crowd now getting more into his new-found stand up comedy role.

Killian disagrees, pressing his teeth lightly into his tongue.

(Though he would never admit it, Killian kind of agrees with this point. The fame of the Royal Family has seemed a little irrelevant to him over the past few years — though it was never something that Killian would talk about in public.)

Emma hears Killian huff beside her, groaning under his breath. What she can’t see is the way his teeth are practically cutting into his tongue, the faint taste of blood taking over his mouth.

He’s surprised to feel Emma’s hand wrap around his, and the warmth of it, even in the bright city sun, calms the boiling of his blood.

She has been his best friend for years. Sure, they may not have gotten along that well when they first became neighbors her and David’s senior year of college, but that was almost twelve years ago. Since then, they have watched David and Mary Margaret fall in love, move out of the city, get married, and have Leo, with their second on the way. They have seen Killian go through two roomates: Jefferson and Robin, leaving him with Will currently.

They have seen Emma go through more. Ruby, Belle, Zelena, Regina, and Tink, all of whom tended not to stay too long, though only Regina and Tink left because of Emma: Regina because they were too different, their schedules opposites, Regina much more meticulous than Emma could ever be.

And Tink? Tink was insanely jealous of her friendship with Killian, even more jealous when their friendship became more. It was only a few weeks before that she heard Tink shouting Killian’s name through the thin bedroom walls in the middle of the night while she was staying in Killian’s apartment, which pushed Emma to ask her to move out.

Because after everything, they fell in love.

The only issue with that is they decided not to tell David and Mary Margaret yet. It’s not that they don’t think their friends would be happy for them — Mary Margaret would probably start screaming, and after David stopped leveling him with his gaze, he would crack a smile, as well.

But it’s only been five months. They decided to wait longer until they told their friends, and holding hands in the middle of Boston is not the way to keep their relationship secret.

It helps the angry pounding of his heart, though, which is almost enough for him to not care.

“Why is their flag so busy?” Ben asks, pulling an old-fashioned American flag out of his pocket, one with thirteen stars. “All those lines going every which way and all that — not to mention the colors. Red, white, and blue, so original.”

At this, Leo turns around to Emma and Killian, standing at the back of the group. Just the night before, Killian had gone through the history of the British flag with the lad, who sat cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, his bright eyes wide with interest.

But when he sees Killian and Emma standing behind him, old enough to know what their intertwined hands means, his eyes widen in a completely different way. Emma can swear that everything around her slows down as Leo opens his mouth to say something, and she presses her finger to her lips before he can make a sound. He looks worried for a moment, until Killian winks and smiles at him, and the smile returns to the seven year old’s face and he turns back to the tour guide.

This time, when Killian turns to Emma, she lets out a sigh of relief.

“And don’t even get me started on tea!” Ben says, pulling Killian’s attention back to him. “Why are they so high and mighty about their tea? We all know that coffee is the far superior hot beverage.”

To none of his friend’s surprise, this is when Killian cracks: if Killian Jones has strong opinions about anything, it's coffee. “Oi, really, mate?” he yells, and he couldn’t have sounded more British if he tried. When every eye in the group turns towards him, his face reddens even more, and Emma’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anger.

Probably both.

Though when she sees David’s gaze fall to their hands, his eyes widening in surprise, her cheeks redden in her own embarrassment.

“Not a single piece of information you just supplied is correct, do you know that? Or if it is, it’s completely biased.” He’s on a roll, not stopping now, and even as he runs his fingers through his hair, his grip on her hand tightens, as if it's the one thing stopping him from truly losing control. Emma fears it just might be. “Yes, okay, Great Britain still has colonies, but do you know who else does? America! Australia, Denmark, the Netherlands, France, they all have colonies! It’s more than just us bloody Brits. And do you know that the queen doesn’t actually ‘rule the entire country’?" He definitely has not stopped to take a breath, which worries her. "There’s a whole system of people who work with her, who keep her in check, and it might be a system that’s a few hundred years old, but I’ll tell you this, our checks and balances work much better than whatever bullshit that happens here.”

A few of the younger people in the group all go “Oooh!”, some of them laughing, others outraged, but it’s all nothing compared to the surprised outrage written across Ben’s freckled features.

When he starts again, the words are tumbling madly from his lips, much angrier when he conveyed the same information to Leo the night before. “The British Flag is a culmination of the British, Scottish, and Irish from when King James I of Scotland inherited all three thrones, so it’s technically not just one flag, but three all out together. It represents the same kind of unity that your American flag is also supposed to represent, three countries coming together in unity, though of course that’s not the flag that we use anymore. It was redesigned when Great Britain and Ireland were united in 1801, and that is the flag that you all recognize as our Union Jack.”

He stops for a moment, looking around the group, his blue eyes wide with anger, with madness — pausing for a moment on David, whose eyes are not on his face, but on his hand, which he realizes in this moment is still wrapped around Emma’s.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

His free hand raises to scratch at the spot behind his ear that always seems to itch when he finds himself embarrassed. “I’m not even going to start on the tea comment, because that’s just plain bullshit,” he says after a silent second, his voice even again, and he even laughs lightly, which makes the tension that has filled the group lighten a bit.

Except for Ben.

Ben looks like he’s never been more embarrassed in his life. It’s a definite possibility that he actually hasn’t.

A beat passes. The group is silent.

And then Ben, still red in the face, claps his hands together, standing on the steps in front of the market before them.

“I would like to thank each of you for joining me on this Freedom Trail Walk during this year’s 38th annual Boston Harborfest. I hope you’ll all join us on Thursday for the Parade of Lights and Fireworks, which starts at 8:30. If anyone still needs to find a place to sit to enjoy them, let me know, I have a few suggestions. Enjoy the rest of the celebration!”

The group begins to dissipate, David leading their whole crew a few steps away from where the bulk of the group still stands. Killian moves to let go of Emma’s hand, to try and make the conversation he knows is going to happen a little less awkward, but Emma refuses to let go. Killian turns to her, David and Mary Margaret still leading them with Leo between them. He catches her eye, and when she turns her head and smiles at him, he pulls their hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

Her smile widens.

He hears her unspoken words, a question she desperately wants to ask him: are you sure? He hopes that the smile that takes over his face is answer enough.

Because he's sure. He may never have been so sure about anything in his life as he is about Emma — as he is about loving her, about wanting to be with her badly enough to have to incur the wrath of their best friends — of her brother — finding out like this.

God, he loves her. It's not the first time he's had the thought, but it's the first time he's realized just how true it all is. He's not ready to tell her, to tell anyone, but he's ready enough to believe it in his own mind. To think it when he looks at her, when he wakes up curled around her in the morning, when he's buried deep inside her.

Sure, they've only been together for a few months, but he's been in love with her for years. He tried to bury it beneath bottles of rum, tried to hide from it by using other women, but every time when he woke up beside one of them, he would dream it was her, wake up hoping it wasn't just a dream, and regret when that was not the truth.

Needless to say, the first morning he finally woke up beside her, golden locks strewn all over his face and his chest, his arm asleep from refusing to move away from her during the night, was the greatest morning of his life.

"Alright," David says, turning back to the two of them to turn their group into a circle. But when his eyes go wide, they are not focused on Killian and Emma's joined hands, but instead just over Killian's shoulder.

Not a moment later, he feels a tap on it, paired with a soft-spoken, "Excuse me, sir."

He whips his head towards the sound, now releasing his grip on Emma's hand, and when he meets the eyes of the person standing behind him, he remembers why Emma reached over to grab his hand in the first place, which he's both happy and angry about.

Ben.

He still looks like he's never been more embarrassed in his life.

Good.

"I, uh, I just really wanted to apologise for what… happened," he says, his eyes falling to the pavement. "I really have no problems with the British, just to clear that up. I just — I never had anyone on my tour that's not American — not that you're not American, of course, that's not what — not what I'm saying, it's just — "

Finally, Killian stops him, raising his hands up between them. "Listen, lad," he says, and Emma can't help but think that his accent is stronger than it usually is. Or maybe she's just focusing on it more. "I appreciate your apology. I just hope this is a lesson to really know who's in your group before you go poking fun at other countries, especially ones whose residents are such hard-headed gits, aye? Not everyone will be as forgiving as I am."

It's not until he smiles at him that Ben realizes he's serious. "Th—thank you," he stutters, his voice soft, and after a moment passes (one Killian is pretty sure neither of them breathe through), he turns to walk away.

When Killian turns back towards his friends, the sigh he lets out is both audible and visible, the rise and fall of his shoulders obvious. "Well, that was exciting," he says after yet another silent moment passes between them, and then turns to David. "What's the plan, boss?"

But it's Mary Margaret who responds. "Oh, no, uh-uh, no way." She shakes her head, crossing her arms over the third different stars-and-stripes dress that has made an appearance this week.

When David mirrors her appearance, Leo looks back and forth between them a few times before he does the same. If they weren't teaming up against her, Emma would think they're adorable.

But since they are teaming up against her, that ruins it a bit.

"Yeah," David says, his bright eyes narrowing into slits. "It seems the two of you have to explaining to do."

"Yeah!" Leo adds, though his glare is not as piercing as his parents'.

"What's there to explain?" Killian asks, his voice much calmer than Emma's would have been, especially once he reaches out to wrap his arm around her shoulder, pulling himself closer to her. "We're dating. It's still relatively new to us, and we didn't want to get anyone's hopes up in case it doesn't work out."

At his words, David's face softens, but when Emma turns to Mary Margaret, hers has not. "How long has this been going on?"

Now it's Emma's turn to answer, the lump in her throat almost completely gone now, but her voice is still soft when she manages to speak. "Not very long. Just a few months, four? Maybe five?"

This does not make Mary Margaret any calmer, either. "Five months! You've been dating for five months and you haven't told anyone?!"

Emma feels her face growing hot. This is why they haven't told anyone.

"And why do you think that is, hm?" Killian asks, gesturing towards Mary Margaret with his free hand.

This silences the woman, enough for her to snap her mouth shut.

"I guess, uh, it makes sense now," David says, realizing exactly what Killian and Emma hoped he had: that Mary Margaret's response was exactly what they had expected.

But the best thing about David and Mary Margaret finding out happened two nights later, when Killian realized he didn't want to move back into his apartment when David asked if they could stay a few days longer than expected.

They even invited the rest of their friends over to help move his things into her apartment, sitting out on the balconies to watch the fireworks over the bay.

A year later, he stood in the exact same place to ask her to marry him, and was sure to tell everyone the very next day at the Nolan's first annual Fourth of July barbeque.

#cs fics #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #cs ff #captain swan #snowing #killian as a godfather #and a history nerd #and a poor british man #secret dating #apartment sharing #literal fireworks #and boats #well ships #and i did a little research for this to make sure everything was accurate #so please dont come at me with that #history nerd fic

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eternallyyoungjustice · 5 years

Text

Wherever the Winds Take You: Chapter 2

Author’s note:

Hey hey hey you beautiful people. Second chapter within the same month as the first, that’s a surprise.

So just so you all know, as per usual I’m super busy (school, work, extra-curriculars, social life, getting a semi-decent amount of sleep) however, as I’ve recently been loving this motivation train for writing this fic, I’m going to TRY to put a chapter out every 2 weeks. I would prefer to do more, but I only have a couple hours a day and I want to not only make each of these chapters good quality, but I also want to make them fairly long and I’m trying to edit them! So yea, bi-weekly seems like the best course of action.

Anyways, enough with me. Thank you for reading WTWTY chapter 2, I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC, Young Justice and it’s places, stories, and characters all belong to DC Comics and the brilliant minds who created them.

Paris, France

April 16, 2008

2:46 CEST

The hospital was just like any other; blank white walls, the smell of disinfectant, the faint beeping of a heart monitor in the distance. Signs written in French were everywhere; showing directions, giving your regular everyday health registrations, maybe the occasional motivational poster. There was one area of the hospital however, that wasn't your typical everyday sight.

Standing by a window, looking in but trying to be stealthy about it, stood three adults. One, a dark-cloaked man whose cowl showed off two points shaped like bat-ears. Second, a woman with blonde hair wearing a leather jacket, a corset, and a pair of fishnet tights. Third, a male-humanoid robot with a bright red exterior, blue and gold cape, and a gold 'T’ shape on his chest. Had it not been nighttime, the three adults knew it wouldn't be safe for them where they were. But as it was nearly three in the morning, there was no danger for them in the hospital.

In the window in which they peeked, there was a young girl. Pale with freckles dusting her nose, big blue eyes, round cheeks, and long, light brown hair that fell in a messy, wavy, mess over her shoulders. She was awake, but extremely still. The only sign that she was even alive was the fact that she was sitting up on her own, her legs pulled up to her chest, and the tears that rolled down her cheeks. With her sat an older man in his mid-forties with greying brown hair, who sat in the chair beside the bed with his hand on the girl's back and a look of pained empathy on his face. There were also two boys, one older, and one younger than the girl.

The younger sat on the foot of the girl's bed, tears of his own flowing down as his hand lay on the girl's leg; and the older held a frown on his face as he leaned against the wall opposite the door, far away from the rest of the people.

“Are you sure this is the best time to do this?” The woman of the trio of adults asked. “She only just woke up and got the news.”

“The sooner we do, the better.” The cloaked man replied.

“She’s been through so much in just a few hours though.” The woman reasoned. “We could scare her off, or overwhelm her.”

“The emotions she feels now for what she's done are a good motivator to learn how to avoid it in the future. And the girl is on the spectrum, I have no doubt she's used to being overwhelmed.” The man in black countered.

Frustrated, the woman let out a deep sigh and rolled her eyes. She knew she ought to have been used to her co-worker’s coldness by now, but it still amazed her at times like this.

“What's your say Red?” The blonde asked, looking up at her robotic comrade. “This is all your call, not to mention your idea.”

The robot was silent for a moment, as if lost in thought, but then replied.

“Batman is correct.” The red robot answered. “Raw emotions act as human's main motivators, it would be the most logical conclusion to ask now while the events of today are fresh. However, it would be foolish to go in without any thought to her emotional state. We should act thoughtfully and with care.”

“Leave it to you two to act like this is some sort of battle plan.” The woman muttered under her breath, but then brushed some hair out of her face before walking towards the door, leading the trio into the room. The moment the three heroes walked into the hospital room, every single one of its inhabitants looked up at them.

“Madam Canary, Monsieurs Batman and…” The older man in the room greeted, addressing the heroes but falling short on the name of the robotic individual he did not know.

“So you’ve finally decided to stop creepily watching from outside like stalkers?” The oldest of the children asked, his shoulders being pushed back to appear bigger.

The two men's French accents were thick, but their English was still clear.

“Calvin, watch your manners.” The oldest of the family stated strictly to the boy before standing and addressing the three strangers. “I apologize for my son, he can be quite protective.”

“It’s no problem, Monsieur Leduc, we understand completely.” The blonde woman, Canary, said. “We...understand that this can’t be an easy time for any of you.”

“Markus is fine, Mademoiselle Canary.” The greying man said with a small smile. “And please don’t worry about us, we just appreciate the help you three have shown in this...incident.”

“Why are you still here?” The youngest of the boys asked, sitting so his body shielded the girl’s. “She’s awake and physically well, she hasn’t started another storm since she awoke.”

“Are you going to arrest her for something she had no control over?” The older boy asked. The girl’s body curled in tighter around itself. “If you try to take her away from us, you should know our lawyer’s on his way.”

“We’re not taking her away. But I’m glad you brought up control.” Canary explained, she turned to motion to her robotic coworker. “This is Red Tornado, another member of the Justice League.

I don’t believe any of you got the chance to officially meet during the debacle.”

“You’re...the one that flew with a tornado around your waist.” The girl spoke quietly. “You helped return the winds back to their normal paths after…” her voice fell away.

“Not a very creative name.” The oldest boy remarked.

“My name was given to me by my creator.” Red Tornado explained, before facing the small girl.

“But yes, I hold the ability to control the air around me. Much like yourself.”

“Except I can’t control the Winds.” The girl said, frowning. “They controlled me. I created a level 3 tornado while I was in a coma, completely unaware. Or at least...that’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“For now you may have no control over your abilities, but that’s why we’re here.” Canary said.

“Red Tornado, and the rest of us, have discussed the possibility of him taking Evangelina on as a protege.” The cloaked man, Batman, said bluntly.

“Protege?” The girl and her father asked in surprise.

“I would be willing to...take her under my wing, in a sense. I could teach her how to use her new-found abilities, train her to control and use them, make sure an accident of this nature doesn’t happen again.” Red Tornado explained.

“And I would be happy to help with the emotional aspect.” Black Canary added. “Powers are often strongly connected to emotions and mental states, and as my colleague...has some lack of experience with that aspect, it would be my pleasure to use my psychological background to assist in and way.”

“So you’d be brainwashing her into becoming another one of your ‘sidekicks’ like we see on the news? Put her in danger and make her fight your battles for you? She’s only 14!” The eldest brother protested, taking a step towards the heroes.

“Calvin.” Lina called, her voice quiet in nature but it cut through the room like a dagger. Her eyes were so full of confusion and grief that just by looking at them, her family automatically were flooded with a sense of guilt and empathy. It was probably because of this that the three men let the young girl speak out.

As she turned to the heroes, she scanned all three of them carefully. As if looking for something, but nobody knew for what.

“If I were to become your protege,” Lina started, “I would gain control over....all of this, right?

I wouldn’t ever...do that again?”

Canary saw her cloaked colleague shoot her a sly look and she felt a strong wave of annoyance at the man.

“That is the idea.” Red Tornado replied.

“From your report, you have a very different type of connection to, the Winds, as you called it.

But we’d certainly work on ensuring that you don’t lose control again.” Lina watched the robotic man carefully.

“You mean you’ll try to make sure I don’t end up creating a major natural disaster and end up causing hundreds of dollars in property damage, endangering the lives in the area, again.” Lina spoke with a strict tone, full of self-loathing.

“That is the idea.” Red Tornado repeated.

“You all should know that you won’t have to worry about the property damage.” Batman said, speaking for the first time since entering the room. “Wayne Enterprises has offered to take care of it.”

“The American company? Why?” Leo asked, frowning.

He never got a response.

“You should know, before we even consider this in any way-” Markus spoke up, “-my daughter, she...has some special needs…”

“Papa!” Lina’s head whipped around, her face growing pink.

“We’re already aware of your...learning disability.” Canary informed Lina, stepping closer to her.

At the term ‘disability’, the younger woman tensed and fidgeted with a strand of her hair. “But, fortunately, Wayne Enterprises has come through again.”

“What do you mean? Came through how?” Lina asked.

“Wayne Enterprises has been testing a new product in their health and medicine division.

It’s a type of autism medication that works to completely inhibit all symptoms and conditions for a few hours. It’s experimental, but completely tested and 100% safe.” Canary explained.

“You’ll have to talk about it with your doctors before you are even handed a dosage, and we don’t suggest using it until you’re well enough, but after you've gotten the 'okay’ you're going to have to speak with the head scientist about any side effects and limitations, but-””So not only are you trying to brainwash her into becoming one of your...child lackies, but you’re putting experimental chemicals filled with God knows what into her body?”

Calvin’s interjection was full of hostility as he stepped closer to the trio of heroes.

“We understand your concern, but we assure you-””Oh don’t give me that formal, robotic, bullsh-”

“I’ll do it.”

The whole room froze as, once again, Lina’s voice cut through the noise. She was looking at the heroes, her eyes dancing between Black Canary and the robot.

“You’ll...what?” Calvin guffawed.

Lina looked up, making direct eye contact. “You say you’ll teach me to control my...powers so this will never happen again? I’ll do it.” Lina explained. “I’m not too sure about this medicine, but I’ll consider it once I get an unbiased medical professional's opinion on it. But if you seriously think that you can teach me to control the Winds, well, I don’t really see a good alternative.”

“Lina, mon chou-”“It's my decision.” Lina said strictly, the pain in her eyes morphing into determination. Once a moment had passed, Markus sat back down.

After a quick beat, Red Tornado walked up over to Lina’s bed. Looking up at him, the French girl came to realize just how much bigger he was in comparison to herself. But then, the robot extended his hand. Smiling slightly, Lina took it and shook it firmly.

“I believe the proper statement to make here is 'Welcome aboard’.” Red Tornado said, and Lina could have sworn she heard a happy tone in his robotic voice.

Gotham City

April 16, 2008

16:00 EST

As Bruce Wayne sat at his desk, the desk that practically ruled over Gotham City, he let his mind wander. This was not an unusual occurrence for him, for either of his personas. Anyone who knew either the man in the suit, or the man in the cowl, knew that if Bruce Wayne ever got a far away look in his eye then he was already on a whole other planet. This however, didn't seem to stop the twelve year old boy in his office from chatting on in front of him.

“And then, ooh, and then the best part happens. The guy comes at me, all ‘oh you darn brat I'm going to kill you’ and firing at will, but he completely missed me! Stormtrooper-level missed me!

So once the guy's out of bullets, which takes like five seconds by the way, I-” the boy lets out a sound effect as he backflip-kicks and then lands perfectly back into a crouching position, “-the gun out of his hand and then-”he does another flip, this time going forwards, and then does a low spin-kick, “-knock him off his feet, just like you told me Bruce! Oh my god the face me made when he fell!”

The raven-haired boy looked over at the older man behind the desk, only to notice the far away look in his eyes and the slight frown on his face. The enthusiasm in the young boy leaks out as he realizes he's been talking to himself the whole time, before he stands up straight and fixes the tie of his school uniform.

“So...how'd that mission you went on last night go?” The boy asks, slowly stepping closer to Bruce. The man finally manages to snap out of his trance and focuses in on the twelve year old. “Freak tornado in Paris, right? You were out pretty late because of it.”

“Yes.” Bruce hums. “It went fine.”

After a long moment of silence, the boy's shoulders slag down as he realizes he's not going to get much more out of his guardian.

“I...think I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and get a snack, do you want anything?” The raven-haired boy asks as he begins to take a step towards the office door.

“Coffee please, black.” Bruce grunts.

“Black.” The boy chuckles. “What a surprise.” But just as he's about to leave through the door, it swings open. A tall man with slicked-back hair and a white lab coat steps in, carrying a small metal box with the famous 'W’ Wayne Enterprises insignia engraved on it.

“Oh, so sorry Mr. Grayson.” The man said, quickly standing to the side.

“No problem.” The boy shrugs, and motions for the man to pass him. The man nods and does so.

“Doctor Leon.” Bruce greets, standing up and walking around the desk. “I'm assuming this is the package I asked for?”

“Yes sir.” The doctor replied. “14 perfected doses of the newest updated serum.”

“Good, thank you very much.” Bruce replied, and lifted the lid off the box to reveal its content.

The syringes were small, sized for convenience, and full of a translucent blue liquid. As the boy strolled over, he looked high to take a peek at the box's contents. Bruce allowed this for only a moment before closing the box again.

“And you're sure this batch was the one that successfully went through human trials?” Bruce asked.

“Absolutely sir.” Leon nodded. “We just ran the last tests late last night so everything was already out and ready to be copied. Every single trial has proved to be a success thus far, which is why it was marked to be put on the market this time next year.”

“Yes…” Bruce hummed, looking down at the box. The far away look returned again, but this time only for a moment.

“Well, thank you again Doctor.”

“Not a problem at all Mr. Wayne.” Leon nodded, and then turned to walk out. “Have a good evening sir, Mr. Grayson.”

The moment the door shut behind Leon, the twelve year old sighed. “Being called 'Mr. Grayson’ is so...weird. I kind of wish people would just call me Dick, or even Richard.” The boy quickly turned his attention back to the box in Bruce's hands. “So, what's that? Who's it for?”

“Medical Treatment Serum 219, strand 9.4, version 8.” Bruce grunted. It only took Dick a moment before it clicked.

“The new autism inhibiting meds?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you need 14 doses of it?”

“It's not for me.” Bruce replied, placing the box on his desk. “And no, I'm not saying who it is for.

You'll meet them soon enough.”

Dick's eyes lit up and grew twice their size.

“I'll meet them soon enough? Oh come on! Now you have to tell me!”

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slipstreamborne · 6 years

Text

Clearer with Distance (2014 fic)

rating: G summary: Donatello is almost eight before they finally find a pair of glasses with his correct prescription. Before that, the severely farsighted turtle just has to make do. His brothers do what they can to help out, even if it means reading all his boring stereo instructions to him for the millionth time. notes: 2k fluffy turtle tot fic with just a touch of angst. read at ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15006035

The box is slick underneath Donnie’s fingers, glossy cardboard unwarped by water, the corners crisp and unworn. New, or at least freshly thrown out, which for a mutated turtle scavenging the sewers of New York is basically the same thing.

His chest swells with excitement, expert fingers feeling at the seams until he finds the opening flap. The box is bulky but light—a promising combination—and rattles faintly when shaken. Definitely some twist ties loose in there. He gropes greedily inside, worming his skinny arm in between the broken pieces of protective Styrofoam until his fist closes on his prize: a thin paper booklet with staples along the binding.

“Oh no,” groans Mikey, somewhere off to his left. “He found another one.”

“Not it,” says Raph automatically; a mistake, because he’s close enough that Donnie can pinpoint him by sound even if he has trouble picking his blurred form out from the rest of the garbage heap.

“Raph!” He thrusts the little pamphlet towards what he guesses is his brother’s nose. “What’s this say?”

Shadows of hands shove him back, not hard enough to knock him over, though. “I dunno, genius. It’s dark.”

“Not that dark.” A greasy yellow glow fills the far end of the tunnel, casting crisp shadows against the brick. The light’s softer here, the edges of things increasingly smeared the closer he gets to them, but it’s bright enough that Donnie barely has to use his flashlight. It’s easier for him to spot the gleam of a potentially interesting object than sort through every washed up boot and rusted can by hand. Safer, too, as the still-thumping cut bisecting his left palm can attest. At least it’s finally crusted over and stopped oozing. “C’mon, read it for me.”

“I ain’t gonna!”

“Read it read it read it read it—”

“Hush.”

Dad doesn’t shout. Dad hardly ever has to shout, and never twice. Not so close to topside, anyway. Donnie’s mouth clamps shut obediently.

“This is not the place. Raphael will read to you when we get home, Donatello.”

Raph whines (“Daaaad, I read the last one!”), but his father holds firm, setting him back to the day’s scavenging with a single clipped command. Reassured that he’s not the one to have been assigned to the task, the soft, mostly-blue shape of Leo finally pops into view, a smear of white slashing crookedly across where his mouth should be.

“Over here,” he says, taking Donnie by the hand (something Donnie hates, but on unfamiliar territory has no grounds to object to). “Found a bunch of onions. Help me pick out the rotten ones.”

Everybody has their place within the family. If you need somebody to boost you into a high pipe or check in the shadows for monsters (Raph says that the towering white figures from his dreams with needles for fingers aren’t real, but Donnie’s not so sure), you get Dad. If you need somebody to tell you all the rules for Yu-Gi-Oh or tattle on you when you wander too far into the dark, you get Leo. Mikey’s great at farting at the dinner table and whining until you feel sorry for him when he loses a game that he made up the rules to, while it’s Raph’s job to not share when you want a turn at shooting baskets and snuggle up tight against you under the blankets when winter blows ice cold through the Lair.

Donnie’s got strong, nimble fingers and can recite long passages of Harry Potter from memory, even does a pretty good job of mimicking the voices that Dad uses, but when Leo finds a coverless copy of The Order of the Phoenix—their one missing title in the series—nobody asks him take over when Dad gets too tired to do another chapter.

It’s not that Donatello doesn’t know how to read. Dad taught him his alphabet same as his brothers, one warm hand at his elbow as he guided Donnie’s finger through the thick, ever-gathering dust of the fan room floor, tracing out the shape of each letter over and over until Donnie had every stroke memorized.

If he writes large enough, going back over each word twice with the long side of their few precious pieces of grubby sidewalk chalk until the pastel lines stand out bold against the dark concrete floors, Donnie can make out whole words. Kanji is harder, crucial, tiny strokes lost amidst the overall shape of the character, but Dad has a long scroll of poetry in oversized calligraphy hanging above his sleeping mat that Donnie has had memorized since he was three:

A lovely thing to see: through the paper window's hole, the Galaxy.

For reasons he can’t yet explain, he has no trouble at all reading the oversized text of the bulletin boards he occasionally glimpses through narrow storm drains, hungry eyes devouring every line of copy even if he lacks the context needed to appreciate the appeal of things like “semi-annual sales” and “now in theaters”.

He has never seen a star, much less a galaxy, but after some careful questioning, he doesn’t think Leo or Raph or Mikey have seen one, either.

The bigger something is, the further it is away, the easier it is for Donnie to understand.

The problem is that the things that interest him, that confound him and make him burn for more, are close and very, very small.

He gets so frustrated. So angry. It’s there, it’s right there, but he can’t—

“Please.” He shoves the stack of books into his brother’s hands. “Please please pleeeeease...!”

“Fine,” Leo sighs, even though they both know that technically, it’s Raph’s turn again. “Fine.”

There’s an old beanbag chair that Dad sewed up that’s almost big enough for two. Leo tucks his feet under him primly while Donnie wedges himself firmly against his side, long legs braced against a crack in the concrete to keep them from toppling over.

“I’m not reading you Advanced Wiring again, I know you’ve got that one memorized.” He tosses the battered book to the side with a thump. “So which’ll it be? Heating and Plumbing or Decks, Porches, and Patios?”

“Decks.” The meager collection of Time Life Home Repair and Improvement books is one of his most prized possessions. Heating and Plumbing is his second favorite, but Leo’s terrible at describing all of the diagrams. “The part about load-bearing footings.”

The book smells comfortingly of mildew when Leo cracks it open. He’s smaller than Donnie by almost half a foot, his head wobbling precariously on a neck barely bigger than Raph’s wrist, but he has a nice voice, smooth and even with an extra puff of breath behind the t sounds that Donnie finds himself echoing for hours afterwards.

“Where do you want me to start? Concrete forms or how to determine the frost line?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He hasn’t told Leo that he’s actually memorized that one, too. All of them, to be honest. It’s just that sometimes he needs something, anything, to help his brain go quiet. “Frost lines.”

Leo flips to the appropriate page, squirms until his shell is nestled more comfortably in the folds of the beanbag, and starts to read. Donnie digs his sharp chin into the hollow of his brother’s shoulder, closes his eyes, and listens.

Mikey is the best at it, despite being the least interested in schoolwork of any of them. Maybe it’s because of his blasé acceptance of his own academic shortcomings. Where Leo huffs and repeats things over and over, trying to get it perfect, and Raph storms off with a growl at the first barrier he can’t punch his way through, Mikey plunges right along unrattled no how many bumps he hits, accepting any corrections to his pronunciation with a casual shrug.

Even when the manual turns out to be written in French.

“En-lev-ez le...’ The heck is this word, bro? One of the letters is wearing a hat. ‘Buh... Booty-er?’”

“Spell it if you can’t sound it out.”

“B-O-I with a pointed hat-T-I-E-R.”

Donnie frowns, fingers retracing his steps across the condensation pump, trying to figure out which piece is most likely supposed to come off next. “I think that’s the cover for the fan.” He gives the fan enclosure an experimental pull, then a twist, then a harder, more determined pull, but it doesn’t budge. He runs his fingers around its rim, looking for the telltale round bump of a screwheads, but finds nothing. “Uh, is there a tab I’m supposed to press to make it pop off or...?”

“Maybe?” A rustle of paper as Mikey folds the directions back to look at the diagram. “Are you sure these are the right instructions for this pump? It doesn’t quite look like the drawing. That fan cover piece is a completely different shape.”

Donnie’s stomach does an anxious somersault. And he’d been so excited to find something thrown away in its original box. “I mean, a pump’s a pump, right? How different can they be?”

Half an hour later, Donnie’s managed to remove the fan cover, but not without a sickening crack of plastic and a muffled swear from his brother that tells him he broke something. Hopefully it wasn’t anything crucial. He’ll have to run some tests after he’s finished cleaning it and putting it back together, but since the pump wasn’t working in the first place it will be hard to—

The main hatch creeks open, then closed again. “Tadaima!” call two voices. Leo’s voice cracks on the last syllable, and Dad sounds tired, but pleased.

“Okaeri!” Donnie and Mikey call together, Raph chiming in faintly from the other side of the Lair. Donnie sniffs the air. Beneath the gust of sewer smell is the unmistakable odor of wet fur and back alley dumpster he’s come to associate with food.

He puts down the tools to help Dad and Leo bring in the last of the groceries—bags and bags of iceberg lettuce with browned outer leaves (his mouth waters, knowing the cool, wet crunch awaiting inside), and a box of short pull tab cans that could be either tuna or cat food. Mikey makes a pleased little chirrup as he passes him the cans, which means it’s probably the latter. Fancy Feast is his favorite.

The chore is quickly finished with five sets of hands. Leo keeps bumping into him, thin limbs still quivering with the excitement of getting to go topside. Donnie tucks his own arms close and starts edging out of the kitchen and back towards his corner of dissembled stereos, suddenly not a excited about the prospect of lettuce heart supper. He’s never been above ground. It’s too dangerous with his limited eyesight.

“Ah, Donatello. A moment more, my son. I have a gift for you.”

A large, grey-brown shape crouches before him and presses a closed cardboard box into his hands. Too large for a clock radio, too small to be a VHS player, but mostly empty either way.

“You got Donnie an iron?!” asks Mikey incredulously, crowding close on his left.

Raph huffs dismissively, but presses in close to his right. “It’s just the box, dummy.”

“Go on,” Leo says, fidgeting anxiously from one foot to another. He’s too close for Donnie to make out his expression, but his tone suggests that there’s a surprise that he’s in on, or maybe some sort of joke. “Open it.”

Something heavier than an owner’s manual is rattling around inside. Batteries, maybe, or an overlooked set of cables. Dad couldn’t have been lucky enough to find him a discarded remote.

His family looms over him expectantly as he opens the box and reaches inside. The shape of the object is bizarre: two thick, curved circles, each attached to a long, hinged piece of plastic.

Glasses. His heart sinks. He’s lost track of how many pairs he’s tried, over the years. His thumbs swipe idly across the lenses, noting with dull surprise how thick they are, the pronounced outward curve at their center.

“Try ‘em on!” Leo grabs at his wrists, pushing the glasses up towards his face. “Try ‘em, try ‘em!”

There’s a break in the bridge of the nose, he realizes as he unfolds them. Somebody’s tried to fix them with tape but not done a very good job of it. The glasses bend alarmingly as he slips them over his beak, one lens slipping down his cheek as he struggles to hold the other in place. He looks up.

The world looks very, very strange. On his left, Mikey’s familiar smudged shadows. On his right, a stranger in a red bandana peers at him through narrowed eyes, each pale green scale of his face glimmering faintly gold under the bare kitchen light bulb. In front of him, two more strangers, one skinny and green, fading back and forth into Leo's blurred shape as he bounces excitedly, the other tall and dark and covered in a thousand, million lines, each strand of drying fur casting its own shadow, blue robe speckled with tiny white and yellow stars, the pointed, black-eyed face haloed in a bristle of long, white whiskers.

He gapes, speechless.

For the first time in his life, Donatello sees his father smile.

#tmnt #tmnt 2014 #donatello #splinter #michelangelo #raphael #leonardo #stuff i wrote #turtle tots

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lifeinahole27 · 6 years

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CS ff: “It’s All in the Name” (au)

Summary: Beloved Tropes- Coffee Shop AU in which Emma is the angry barista who constantly gets Killian’s name wrong.

Rating: T for maybe swearing a vulgar language at one point.

A/N: Dear god how do I post things that aren’t the Cat Fic? This feels weird and unnatural. ANyway, here’s a coffee shop au no one asked for that I just needed to put out there in the world.

“My name is Killian,” he tells the blonde working the counter at his usual coffee shop. She’d asked; it’s not like he just randomly supplied his name. There are three reasons for this clarification:

1) She has the expression of one who could strike a person down with eye-daggers if provoked the wrong way. 2) She all but growled out the demand for his name. 3) She’s very pretty, but because of said behaviors, if he could’ve taken his name from the devil’s mouth, he would’ve.

As it happens, when he gets his to-go cup after his order is made, he needn’t worry about her cursing his name. Written on the cup is “Killium.” Close, but no cigar. His day is already terrible enough that he brushes it off. Tomorrow, he might get the pleasant brunette that normally works, and he knows she’ll get his name right.

-x-

Wrong.

The brunette is named Mary Margaret, and she’s out on maternity leave, as it happens. Instead, the feisty blonde is back, a scowl on her face and her brows drawn down in concentration as she diligently fills his order. “Name?”

“Killian,” he says. “K-i-l-l-i-“ but she’s already shoving the cup towards him, since a large Americano doesn’t really take that long to fill. “Kilometer?” he asks out loud. The incredulity is plain as day, but she’s already stomped off to take care of the next customer. He gives her a look, just barely restraining himself from sticking his tongue out at her. He’s thirty-two years old, and that kind of childish behavior would be unbecoming.

-x-

“Kumquat, your drink is ready?”

Killian audibly groans in frustration. While the blonde took his order, a familiar lass with icy blonde hair is the one who filled it this morning. It’s Saturday, which means he’s not the only one in the shop this early, and so his usual unpleasant barista is not the only one working. “Seriously?” he asks as he takes the cup from her hand.

“I mean, that’s certainly what it looks like. But Emma’s handwriting is so bad that I’m sure it’s just an error. Have a great day, Killian!”

At least this one knows his name, and he remembers to bid Elsa farewell by name at the last moment having finally remembered hers. Besides, she’s supplied a valuable piece of information to him. The other lass’s name is Emma.

-x-

“Good morning, Emma.” He stresses her name, smiling brightly and raising an eyebrow in a playful gesture. It’s Tuesday, and the shop is empty except for him and this Emma.

“What can I get you?”

“Pleasant as always, I see. Well, Emma, I will take a large Americano this morning. Much as I do every morning.”

“Name?”

“It’s Killian,” he says, trying to maintain his cheery demeanor, but her deadpan stare and bored expression are starting to crack away at his attempts to win this strange name war they’ve begun. He pays, and she wanders over to the coffee pot to fill the cup after she writes on the outside of it.

He hopes. He hopes against all hopes as he takes it from her that this will be a new beginning for them.

“’Kerosene’ doesn’t even vaguely resemble ‘Killian,’ love.” He growls it out, shooting her with a glare as he looks between her and the messy scrawl on the cup.

She purses her lips, shrugs her shoulders, and turns away to grab a rag to wipe down the counter. He doesn’t even bid her a good day, just storms from the shop and downs the coffee quickly so he can toss the cup as soon as possible.

-x-

The young gentleman that’s leaning on the counter of the coffee shop has been there the entire morning that Killian has been working on his laptop in the corner. Gentleman, of course, is stretching the truth a little bit. The man is young and cocky and offering himself to Emma as if he’s God’s gift to her vagina.

He only knows this because the imbecile has said so to someone over the phone while Emma was grabbing something from storage. So, while he was supposed to be in the office an hour ago, instead he’s sitting in the coffee shop keeping an eye on the bastard that doesn’t seem to be taking any of Emma’s “no” answers to heart. He is fully aware that the headstrong woman behind the counter can take care of herself, but there’s no one else in the shop and he can go over shipment invoices anywhere. Sure, he’s a little self-conscious knowing that he has to take extra time to work touchpad and keys on his laptop with just the one hand, but he figures his presence alone is delaying some untoward gestures.

After another ten minutes, he needs a refill, so he wanders up to the counter and waits patiently. Emma, to her credit, grabs a cup from the stack instead of one of the ceramic mugs, and writes his name (or whatever approximation she’ll come up with today) on the outside before automatically filling it with his coffee of choice.

“On the house,” she says, in what he believes is some kind of thank you gesture simply for his presence.

“Killme” reads the cup in his hand, and he snorts as he takes it from her. There’s the barest hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips, letting him know he’s officially in on the joke.

“Are we still on for dinner tonight, love?”

“Sure are, sugar britches,” she responds without a second of hesitation. Sugar britches, he decides, is at least better than Kumquat.

The man at the counter looks between them, his face souring as he realizes that he’s not going to get to bend Emma over the counter and “have his way with her.” (Really, the conversation shouldn’t have taken place at all, let alone in public where others could hear...)

“The coffee sucks here,” he spits out before he storms out of the coffee shop.

Emma deflates with a groan. “Oh, thank god. I didn’t know how many times I could say no before he’d finally fucking leave.”

“Something tells me you could’ve hit him over the head with a wooden club with your answer and he still wouldn’t have gotten it.”

“Thanks. I honestly don’t know how much longer I could’ve stood here without punching him, and my sister-in-law would’ve killed me if I shamed her coffee shop’s name.”

“In all honesty, that’s why I stayed. I was only looking out for Mary Margaret,” he says with a wink. She laughs, and Killian smiles as he does his best not to fidget. He’s seen her in higher spirits, smiling and laughing with Elsa on occasion, but this is the first time it’s been directed at him. And he likes it. “Well, now that my civil duty for the day has been completed, I should get back to work.”

“I could’ve handled it on my own.” It’s an afterthought, some buried need to assert herself clawing its way to the forefront despite his knowledge of the matter.

“Oh, I know. But sometimes it takes an extra hand to get the message across,” he says, lifting his coffee in salutations with another smile. He wanders over and carefully packs away his business, slinging the bag over his shoulder before lifting the to-go cup again.

“Thanks again, Killian,” she says, just as he reaches the door.

“Have a better day, Emma.”

And then, with coffee in hand, he wanders away from the coffee shop with a smile and a crush, and he damns them both.

-x-

“Ketchup. Well, you certainly have gotten very creative with words that begin with the letter ‘k,’ haven’t you?”

-x-

He takes to working from the coffee shop once a month. He finds that a day away from the office makes the humdrum seem less so, and getting to spend some time in Emma’s presence is always a bonus. Those are the mornings he doesn’t get to-go cups, so he doesn’t have to see how she’s chosen to bastardize his name for that day.

Mary Margaret is in the shop today, too. There’s a baby in her arms, small and squirming and trying so hard not to fuss for his mum but ultimately failing. It doesn’t help that there’s a line forming and Emma is struggling to keep up. Elsa, it turns out, has the flu. Emma is on her own with the morning rush.

“Killian?” Mary Margaret’s voice is so unsure and tentative that he’s worried she’s about to ask him to slip on an apron and get behind the counter. But instead, “I need to help her. Can you hold Leo?”

Killian has held one baby in his whole life, and that was when his own baby brother was born. He still had two hands, back then, and so a panic grips at his heart at the question. But he looks towards the counter and sees Emma struggling, and he looks back at the new mother asking him to hold the most precious thing she has so she can save the rush at her coffee shop, and he can’t say no. He nods, unable to verbally answer, and Mary Margaret carefully places Leo into the crook of his left arm, leaving his hand free to grab the bottle and the burp cloth from her.

Leo greedily latches onto the bottle as soon as Killian brings it near his chubby hands and the small lad drinks his breakfast in peace as his mother finds her rhythm behind the counter again. The shop, the hustle and bustle, the work he was doing before his task all fade away as he focuses on the little one.

It’s a struggle to arrange Leo in order to burp him when the bottle is empty, but he manages it with a little finesse and pats the boy on the back the way he remembers. Killian settles back in the chair, humming softly as the baby squirms a little until he settles comfortably with his head on Killian’s shoulder. He tries to crane his neck to look, but the angle is too awkward and there’s nothing to be done about it, so he soothingly rubs the small back beneath his hand while he supports with his left arm. The tiny hands that had previously been clutching at the bottle are now gripped around Killian’s neck.

He loses track of all time, humming and rubbing the child’s back, until someone shakes his shoulder and he realizes he’s closed his own eyes at some point. Leo is still fiercely hugging him, and the smile Emma gives him is small and tender.

“Mary Margaret is washing her hands and then she’ll be right back for him. He really seems to like you,” she comments. She gently strokes the wisps of hair on Leo’s head. Her voice is so soft that it should be a challenge to hear her, but he realizes the whole coffee shop is empty now, save for him and the two employees.

“Thank you again,” Mary Margaret says as she comes from the back of the shop. She smiles brightly at the scene in front of her. “Well, you seem to have a magic touch. Don’t tell David. He still can’t get Leo to fall asleep while he’s rocking him, and that’s at home with every comfort this baby could ever ask for.”

When the weight of the child is lifted from him, he feels that relief that comes from being able to move freely again, but he almost misses the extra warmth and settled feeling it gave him.

“Now we can let Killian get back to work, and maybe mommy can finally have a nap,” Mary Margaret says as she fastens the clasps around her son.

Once the infant is secured in his carrier, still fast asleep, the occupants in the shop are down to just him and Emma. After an extended period of silence, Killian finally clears his throat and begins packing away his belongings.

“I should stop by the office before my secretary skips out for the weekend,” he says, more to convince himself to leave than to tell Emma.

“I’ll grab you a coffee to go. You might need it after an almost-nap with Leo. He has the same effect on me.” She’s zipping away to go fill the coffee before he can say anything else, so he drains the last (cold) sips of his previous beverage and fishes out his wallet after he slips his bag over his shoulder.

Once he gets to the counter, however, Emma waves his card away. “On the house. Thanks for your help today, Killian,” she says, a definite smile lighting up her eyes as she holds the cup out to him.

It’s the way she says his name that momentarily sets his heart alight. It’s not the same as she normally says it, and he idly wonders if his crush isn’t a one-sided ordeal.

He doesn’t even think to check the cup until he’s already halfway down the street, and when he does he stops in his tracks and throws back his head in laughter.

“Koala” might just be one of the most appropriate names after the way the lad latched onto his neck.

-x-

He swings by in the morning, apologizing as he pays and dashes, needing to speed off to the office for a shipping fiasco, and Emma doesn’t even have a chance to write on the cup. He hopes he’s not imagining the disappointed look on her face as he rushes from the coffee shop, calling out his thanks as he goes.

After missing lunch, he’s really regretting not being able to at least grab a muffin or something on the way out of the shop earlier. He’s barely even had the thought when a tall gentleman with sandy blonde hair appears in his doorway.

“Hi, are you -” He squints at the paper in his hand, but even a tilt of the head makes him blink a few times. “Listen, this sounds absurd but are you Koifish?”

Killian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose but unable to hold back the smile that appears. “Is this from Emma by any chance?”

“My sister,” the man explains. “I’m David. Mary Margaret’s husband?”

“Ah, of course. The sheriff, if I remember correctly.”

The other man nods, smiling in a proud way that shows he’s pleased that his wife talks about him a lot.

“You’ve got quite the young charmer on your hands,” Killian tells him, thinking fondly of the baby Leo he’s had the pleasure of seeing since their first encounter during rush hour.

Another smile, brighter and prouder, lights up the room from the other man. There is no mistaking the fatherly pride that paints his face in happiness. “Here, Emma sent me with these. She said you looked a little rushed this morning.”

“How does the wily Swan know where I work?”

“The business card fishbowl. I saw her dumping the cards out when I stopped by for my lunch, so I’m guessing you tossed yours in at some point.”

Killian chuckles, finally standing from his desk and coming around to retrieve the bag from David. He sets the bag on the corner of his desk before turning back to the other man. “Thanks, mate. The name’s Killian, by the way. Your sister and I have something of a joke going on regarding the concept of my name. Send my regards when you see her again.”

They shake hands, and David promises he will before he sets off again. Alone once more, Killian settles back in at his desk and opens the brown paper bag. Inside, there’s a muffin - the very kind he’d just been dreaming of - along with a paper-wrapped sandwich. Beneath both, there’s a small slip of paper folded twice.

“You look like the kind of guy that forgets to feed himself when he’s in a hurry. -E”

He chuckles again, softer this time, as he rubs his hand over the spot above his heart. Crushes are really quite awful things to have, in his opinion. Especially when the object of his affections is so clearly adorable, yet could also disarm him in ten seconds or less.

-x-

He’s going to do it today, Killian decides.

He’s going to walk into the coffee shop when it opens and he’s going to ask Emma Swan on a date. A real date, where they can sit and talk and get to know more about each other besides what they’ve witnessed in their short encounters in the cozy shop that Mary Margaret created from her own hopes and dreams.

Every time he goes to pull open the door, however, his nerve flutters away and he has to pep talk himself back up again.

He can do this. It’s easy to ask out a lass that sends you french toast muffins and grilled cheese sandwiches because she suspects you’ve forgotten to take care of yourself, right?

Wrong. He’s so wrong.

Killian sighs, rubs his sweaty palm on his pant leg and pulls the door open, resigning himself to wait until another day because if he waits much longer he’ll be late for a meeting with a new client.

He greets the women behind the counter, saying hello to Elsa and smiling at Emma while trying not to get tongue tied, and he pays for his coffee and leaves. He berates himself for not having the courage to ask a woman to dinner, or coffee, or a drink at the bar around the corner, but resigns himself to his own fate for the time being.

Emma has his coffee ready by the time Elsa has finished settling his bill, and then he bids his farewells to them both before pushing his way back outside. He shuffles along, trying to pep himself back up as he walks the short distance to his office.

To his surprise, there’s a message longer than just whatever “K” name Emma decided to bestow upon him today.

“Killicakes (you can blame Elsa for that one) - meet me at Angelo’s at 7:00pm. Don’t be late!”

Below that, her phone number is scribbled.

He bites his lip against the smile that’s forming, instead concentrating on programming Emma’s number into his phone and turning his attention to work to distract himself from his impending glee.

Upon entering Angelo’s at 6:55pm, he’s greeted with the sight of Emma sitting at one of the small tables. Her hair is up in a simple yet elegant ponytail, and when she stands up to greet him his breath catches in his chest. She looks beautiful. She’s always beautiful, but she’s spared no detail in getting ready for this dinner, and he suddenly feels like this is a big moment.

“Hi,” she says sweetly. “You’re here.”

“I’d be a bloody fool not to show up,” he points out. “You look stunning, Swan.”

“Thanks, you look…” It seems like she finally looks at him. And while she’s used to seeing him in all manner of clothes, from business to business casual, he’s not sure if she’s ever seen him without a tie and a shoulder bag.

“I know,” he finishes for her, and she laughs with a coy smile which is all he could’ve asked for from the quip.

The meal goes so well that they’re surprised when the waiter asks if they’ll be needing anything else since the restaurant was closing. They take dessert to go, and while they’re walking aimlessly, they happen by the coffee shop. Emma tugs on his hand to pull him to the door, his leather jacket over her shoulders as she unlocks it and holds it open for him.

“You’re sure it’s okay that we’re here?” he asks, unsure of after-hour policies.

“It’s okay. I know someone,” she tells him with a wink. “What’ll it be, Americano? Decaf?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Before long, there are two paper cups of hot chocolate sitting on the counter as Emma cleans what she used and hangs her apron back up. She carries them over to the table Killian is accustomed to sitting at for work, but she takes the chair next to him instead of across from him.

With the conversation quiet and their hot chocolates mostly gone, Killian takes in every detail of the expression on her face and the way hair escapes her ponytail to curl around her ears. The lights are dimmed, so he really shouldn’t be surprised when she clears her throat and turns his cup a little to reveal what she’s written on there. The setting, after all, is rather romantic and perfectly fitting for the two separate words reading “Kiss Me” in her handwriting.

“One of these days you might just write my real name on that damn cup,” he remarks, wanting the moment to be a bit more spontaneous. With another small shift, Emma reveals the comma after the initial message and his name written out, clearly, correct spelling and all.

There’s no delaying it after that, as he cups the back of her head as he moves forward to kiss her. She tastes like the cinnamon she used to adorn the whipped cream, like subtle spice and chocolate, like the last remaining hints of her lip gloss that adds another layer to it all. She takes like heaven, so far from the devil he originally labeled her as.

And he has never been so happy to be wrong in his life.

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #sarah writes ff #coffee shop au #holy fuck does it feel good to finish something under 100k

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badchoicesposts · 5 years

Text

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 2

Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar)

Word Count: 2,087

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @timmagicktoad

If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1

“What’s wrong, babe,” Ali asked, letting herself into Liam and Drake’s apartment. She already basically lived there, but they had never made anything official in attempts to respect that it was Drake’s space as well.

Liam had sent her a very cryptic text saying that he needed to talk to her about something important, and when she entered the apartment he was sitting on a stool in the kitchen. His phone was clenched tightly in his hands, eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at it. He relaxed at the sound of her voice, but immediately tensed up again when he finally looked at her.

“It’s Leo,” he sighed, getting up and pulling her into his arms.

Ali rested her hands on his chest and looked up at him with concern in her eyes.

“Is he okay?” she asked, worriedly.

“He’s great. He’s off God knows where, doing God knows what,” Liam said, frustration lacing his words.

Ali knew that Liam loved his older brother. He truly did. It was very obvious, especially when he told her stories of their childhood. But, at the same time she also knew how much stress he caused everyone in the royal family. Liam, his father Constantine, and his stepmother Regina all worried about Leo taking the throne. Even though he was crown prince, he spent as much time as he could away from Cordonia. He was naturally an adventurous person and didn’t like to settle down. This usually led to him being away for extended periods of time and shirking off his responsibilities. These responsibilities in turn usually fell upon Liam’s shoulders. There had even been murmurs of him abdicating the throne, but as far as she knew they were just rumors.

Ali reached up and ran her fingers against the strip of skin between Liam’s eyebrows, his forehead immediately relaxing. He smiled down at her sadly and grabbed her hand in his own, bringing it down to his lips and kissing her knuckles gently.

“It’s bad this time, my love. My father wants me to return home.”

“For how long,” Ali asked, her body stiffening at his words.

“Indefinitely,” he said, softly.

Ali felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of her. The moment she had been fearing since learning of Liam’s royal heritage was finally here. She wanted to scold herself for getting so attached, but instead she just felt numb.

“When do you leave?” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Two weeks.”

“What about us?” she breathed out.

Liam remained silent, refusing to say the words out loud. Refusing to confirm the end.

Ali groaned when she opened her eyes. Bright sunlight was filtering through the windows and making her already pounding headache even worse. Her mouth was drier than it had ever been, and there was something warm pressed directly against the bare skin of her back. She attempted to roll over and was immediately jolted out of her half conscious state when a large, muscular arm wrapped tighter around her waist. Her eyes widened as she took in Liam’s sleeping form beside her. His usually perfectly styled hair was ruffled against his pillow, and as he slept, he unconsciously pulled her body closer to his. The night before was a blur, but as her body lay stiffly in his arms, certain events came flashing back.

After some convincing, she had finally decided to sit down with the guys at their table before realizing that it was her responsibility to close up the bar for the night. Leo, who was not keen on letting her leave, had insisted that she come back to their hotel with them so they could all continue to get to know each other. Ali had gone against every sensible bone in her body and agreed. She had taken shots, way too many shots, which was evident by the terrible hangover she was currently experiencing, and she had found herself alone with Liam sometime after all of the other guys had retired to their own beds.

She remembered him holding her, and telling her how much he had missed her, how he had never stopped loving her. She remembered him kissing her, and she remembered how his hands had moved over her body, rediscovering the skin he once knew so well. She remembered how happy she had felt being in his arms again.

Now in the harsh light of day, she knew she had made a mistake. She had moved on from him. He was her first love, her first everything, and it had taken months, but she had finally moved on from him. She had grown in the last four years, and now she was a different person. Being with him last night would only ruin all the progress she had made.

Liam’s hold on her was strong. She remembered the first time they had slept next to each other. He had always been a cuddly sleeper, while she had always suffered from insomnia and hated being touched when she was trying to fall asleep. It had taken her weeks to finally admit to him that she didn’t like it, and even though he actively tried to respect her wishes, at some point in the night his sleeping form would still pull her closer to him. After a few months together, she finally got used to the feeling of him pressed against her and loved it, now needing his touch to lull her to sleep. The nights after he left had been rough. She would lie awake at night, desperate to fall asleep. It had taken months and the assistance of sleeping medication for her to finally start getting a good night’s rest again.

Looking at him now, Ali wanted nothing more than to cuddle herself into his side and go back to sleep. But, she knew that doing so would only lead to more heartache and an awkward goodbye when they both eventually awoke together. So, she did the only thing she could think of. She eased herself out of his embrace slowly, placing the pillow that she had been resting on in his arms instead. Her body rejected her movements as she attempted to stand upright. The terrible aching in her back from overworking herself the day before only barely overshadowed the terrible aching in her head from over drinking the night before. She took a moment to curse Maxwell Beaumont for giving her so much liquor.

However, she didn’t stop for too long because she knew that Liam had always been a light sleeper. She probably had a little more time before he woke up than she usually would because of how much he had drank the previous night, but she didn’t want to push it. She felt around for her glasses on the bedside table, gathered her clothes, and dressed quickly before making her way to the door. She had made it halfway down the hallway and truly believed she was finally out of the woods when she ran headfirst into Maxwell. He still seemed hyper and upbeat even though he had probably drank more than everyone else last night.

“Ali! You’re still here!” he said, happily. She cringed at the loudness of his voice and quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure that there was no one behind her.

“Yeah, it was really nice to meet you last night, but I was just leaving,” she said quickly, wanting to get out of the hotel as fast as possible. She tried to walk past him but was stopped again by his voice.

“Don’t go. You should stay and have breakfast with us! I was just going to get Liam,” he said, a smile on his face.

“Liam’s still asleep, and I really have to get going,” she said. Maxwell’s face fell at her words.

“You didn’t wait for him to wake up? You didn’t say goodbye?” he asked, softly. Ali sighed and looked up at him.

“I can’t, Maxwell. Not again. Just… just tell him I’m sorry,” she said, before practically running to the elevator.

Stepping outside was simultaneously the best and worst thing she could have done. While the sun only served as a further irritant to her headache, the chilly New York air felt good against her skin. She took a deep breath of it and built up the courage she needed to walk herself home, deciding that she could finally break down once she was safely tucked away in her own bed.

However, she had barely made it to the end of the block when she heard a voice calling out her name. She took another breath to steel herself for the conversation she had been trying to avoid having all morning. When she turned, she saw Liam running toward her haphazardly dressed in the clothes he was wearing last night. He was completely barefoot and his shirt was about half unbuttoned, exposing the soft skin of his broad chest.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said when he finally caught up with her. As she stared into his eyes she realized that he looked as dejected as she felt.

“I have to, Li.”

“Please, I can’t lose you again. Stay with me. I-I love you,” he pleaded with her, his voice lowering to a whisper as he confessed his feelings.

Tears stung her eyes as she tried to find the right words to say.

“You’re getting married, Liam. I can’t stay. You said it yourself. The people expect you to find a wife.”

“I-I… please.”

Liam was at a loss for words. “Please” was the only thing he could seem to get out.

Ali clenched her jaw. Her tears were now streaming freely down her face.

“No. I can’t stay, Liam. I have to go. I have to go now because when you go back to Cordonia and leave me, again might I add, you get to move on and find a wife and be the king of a country, while I’m stuck here heartbroken and trying to get over you,” she said, her voice rising as she let out her frustrations.

Liam looked completely taken aback at her outburst.

“You know, Liam, I was never mad at you for leaving. I was hurt, and I missed you so much everyday, but I never blamed you because I knew that it wasn’t your fault. I knew that at the time you hadn’t planned on leaving. I understood that when everything started getting worse with Leo you were put in a difficult position and that you had responsibilities, so I never once let myself be mad at you. But, now you’re here asking me to stay with you when you know that you have to leave again in what? A day? A week? A month?” she said getting angrier with every word.

“A week,” he said softly, a guilty look on his face.

Ali shook her head, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She had once again calmed down and now she just felt both physically and emotionally exhausted.

“I’m sorry, Liam. But, I have to go,” she mumbled and turned to leave.

Liam caught her arm and pulled her close to him. His lips crashed passionately into hers and she immediately responded. Her body relaxed against him as she rose to stand on the tips of her toes, and her hands moved up behind his neck, so she could run her fingers through the soft hair at the base it. Liam poured all of his feelings into the kiss, desperate to let her know how he was feeling, desperate to hold on to her for as long as he could. Ali reciprocated, and all of their problems seemed to slip away for that moment.

But, it was over as quickly as it began. They both jolted away from each other when loud, clamoring voices filled their ears. It took Ali a minute to realize what was happening as several camera flashes blinded her. Liam quickly went into protective mode and shielded her body with his as the reporters and members of the press closed in around them, all speaking over each other in attempts to get a statement from the prince. For the second time in the past twenty minutes Ali cursed herself for not being able to control herself when it came to Liam. She knew that there was no way either of them would get away from this without any consequences.

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