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beansbeware · 3 years

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Beans’ Bagginshield Recs

Here it is! My first rec list eight years since I first started shipping Bagginshield. When this lockdown started (and ended and started again) I found myself re-reading OG/classics and discovering new ones. Sifting through my AO3 history I realized I have read and already forgotten so much fic over the years. For a while, I though the ship had run its course but as we can see now, Bagginshield lives! Check back for updates as I discover (and remember) more fics. Pay attention to the tags and trigger warnings!

I Sang In My Chains Like The Sea by orphan_account for lincesque, IronPanda

In which Bilbo is a Jaeger pilot candidate, and Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. (Pacific Rim AU) [Wasn’t sure how this one worked but man it did]

At the Turn of the Year by northerntrash

They say that strange things live in the woods, fair folk and things more spirit than man; don't step between the old oaks, parents mutter to their children, or they might find you, and eat you. Thorin never believed that, but now winter is settling into his bones, the shadows are growing longer through the hoar frost, and he is lost among the trees.

And it was there that Thorin met him, that strange, laughing creature, walking barefoot through the bracken.

Canon-ish

Homeward Bound by perkynurples for 61Below

His life slips away from him on an elven boat carrying him overseas, and there is one last journey Bilbo Baggins must take if he truly means to arrive home.

Sansûkh by determamfidd

The battle was over, and Thorin Oakenshield awoke, naked and shivering, in the Halls of his Ancestors.

The novelty of being dead fades quickly, and watching over his companions soon fills him with grief and guilt. Oddly, a faint flicker of hope arises in the form of his youngest kinsman, a Dwarf of Durin's line with bright red hair.

(Follows the story of the War of the Ring).

The Great Shire Conspiracy by Avelera for Emsiecat

Ten years later, Bilbo can't even go to the Green Dragon without a dwarven tourist buying him a beer and sobbing over Bilbo's great tragic love affair with Thorin Oakenshield. Which would all be quite touching and heartbreaking, if not for one little thing...

Dark (generally not a fan but this one made the cut)

Pain-Bearer by lilithiumwords (unfinished)

In an alternate reality, Erebor was never taken by Smaug, and the War of Dwarves and Orcs never happened. The Orcs invaded the Shire, slaughtering hundreds and taking countless more as slaves. Bilbo is slave to Azog, the Dwarf King's mortal enemy... until the Dwarf King rescues him.

Dwarves! in the Shire

Selling to Hobbits by HildyJ

Exiled from his kingdom and living on the mercy of others, Thorin is determined to make his own way in the world for him and his family. And the annual Summer Fair in Hobbiton sounds like the best place to sell enough of his crafted goods to do just that.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ (series)

After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Erebor - Nope, Never Fell

A Most Sensible Idea by HildyJ

Bilbo Baggins isn't sure about this. Not one bit.

Frodo is definitely too young to enter into an arranged marriage with a dwarven king called Thorin Oakenshield. It's a good thing that Bilbo is there to chaperone him through their courtship.

After all, there's no chance that a fussy hobbit bachelor would ever catch the eye of a king.

Signs and Meanings by HildyJ

It shouldn't matter to Thorin that the visiting hobbit cook doesn't speak his language. But it does.

Per Aspera by northerntrash

Deep in the dungeons of the Kingdom of Erebor, in an old, unused storeroom, lived a Hobbit.

In which Bilbo Baggins, a strangely successful thief, makes a mistake, and meets a Prince.

Erebor - Rebuilding

Mother-Tongue by northerntrash for HildyJ

Forget-me-not: a small flower, with four petals, which are normally found in shades of blue with a pink or white centre. These are traditional flowers of intent in the Shire, used to express true love, and remembrance.

In which Bilbo plans to leave Erebor, and Thorin tries to understand why.

Previous Engagements by Lunarflare14

After the Battle of Five Armies Thorin and Company have a new task: rebuilding their reclaimed home. Suddenly Bilbo finds himself up to his ears in responsibility and he surprises himself with how well he can navigate negotiations with elf dignitaries, farmers in Dale, and a dwarf king who has patience for neither.

But as Spring approaches a caravan from the Blue mountains brings something everyone had nearly forgotten: the dwarf woman Thorin promised his hand to many years ago.

Which is fine. It's all fine. It wasn't like Bilbo was falling in love with the king or anything.

That would be tragic.

And I'm Your Lionheart by Lee_Whimsy

Bilbo lingers in Erebor while Thorin recovers from his wounds, and soon finds himself caught up in politics, romance, and the occasional kidnapping. Ensemble cast. AU. Eventually Thorin/Bilbo.

Fix-Its (Gawd we need them)

An Expected Journey by MarieJacquelyn

For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right?

Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

though the stars walk backward by baggvinshield, killaidanturner

Bilbo wakes, always in Erebor, with dark shadows to one side and the first light of a terrible dawn to the other.

An Expected Journey by MarieJacquelyn

Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Over Your Shoulder by northerntrash

The battle is over, and the lost have been counted. There is too much death, too much blood, and in the middle of it sits one small Hobbit, left quite alone but for a body on the ground and the memory of what might have been. But he is a tenacious creature, and if there is one thing that he has learnt, it is not to give up hope.

In which Bilbo Baggins goes on one last journey, and doesn't come back alone.

Historical Setting

The Ghost And Mr Baggins by perkynurples

They say that everything can be cured by saltwater - sweat, tears or the sea. Bilbo Baggins chooses the last option, taking his recently orphaned nephew and moving to the charming Oak Cottage, overlooking England’s grislier shores. The house charms him instantly, and though he knows nothing at all about the sea, or about making ends meet on his own so far from everything he’s known his whole life for that matter, he’s quite determined to stay, and see his nephew get better, odd sounds in the night be damned. He’s living in a modern world, after all, and the nonsense he’s been hearing about the house being haunted by its former owner, the mysterious Captain Durin, is just silly superstition… isn’t it?

Hobbit! Thorin

I've Grown a Hedge Around My Heart by pibroch (littleblackdog)

Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood.

It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him.

Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

Marriage (or something like it)

An Unexpected Proposal by Eareniel

As Bilbo sat smoking in his empty hobbit hole, he couldn’t help but wonder – when did his life become so boring? Or better yet – when did his old life stop being enough?

He suspected the answer to that question lay somewhere around the time when he had refused Thorin Oakenshield’s offer of marriage.

Something Blue by Lapin

Thorin marries Bilbo after the Battle of Five Armies, a marriage of convenience, not love. Slowly, they must come to make the best of it, Bilbo resolves. After all, he's a Hobbit. They make the best of things.

Magical/Super Powers

On Adventures and Other Forms of Conduct Unbecoming of a Wizard by manic_intent for beingevil

For as long as even the old Gaffer could remember there had been a wizard living in the hill at Bag End, overlooking the Shire. As wizards went, this one wasn't the wandering sort, always out to lure gentle folk out onto nasty adventures, or even the powerful kind, the sort that lived in high towers, reaching out into the ways of the world.

Modern Setting

Old Stone, New Fires by northerntrash

Bilbo was not sure what he had expected when he had agreed to supervise the restoration of Erebor House, on the lonely tidal island in the North sea, but it was not this. The winters up here are cold and harsh, and there is a strange feeling on the air, thick with the brine of the sea and secrets to which he is not privy; there is some part of the long and troubled history of the place that has not been spoken of, a shadow between the broken family gravestones and the caves beneath the cliffs, dark and dangerous.

Perhaps it is all in Bilbo’s mind, but as the nights grow longer, he starts to doubt it, and as Thorin sinks ever deeper into black and incalculable moods, he will have to find what has been lost, before it takes them all.

For This by northerntrash

Thorin Durin had lived in his new flat for approximately eighty four minutes when things started to go terribly, terribly wrong. The wrongness came in the form of a package, delivered to his door, wrapped in brown paper and string, with a small tag wishing him a very sincere welcome to the building.

Nothing Gold Can Stay by perkynurples

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples

Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

If There Were Water by stickman

Bilbo Baggins might be in over his head. He’s purchased an old stone house atop a hill overlooking a city he doesn’t know, and plans to live quietly, largely ignoring the rest of the world. But it’s early April, the rainy season, and the roof leaks, and there's something strange about Bywater House that he can't quite figure out.

Thorin Oakenshield is in his fourth month of trying to reconcile his own grief with his failures at anything remotely resembling a competent single parent, living out of a shoebox flat with Fíli (seven, sullen, and stubborn as hell) and Kíli (five, resilient but cracking), working crap jobs and hating everything including himself.

Under the cover of rainy afternoons and sleepless nights, roof repairs and building restoration, Bilbo and Thorin try to figure out how one navigates isolation, and how one breaks out of it. Every step they manage to take forward finds them dragged back again; every question asked has too many answers, or too few. This is a story about living in a world where everyone is on their own, always, and how things go on.

How the West Was Won and Where It Got Us by stickman

Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands.

Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up.

Except one morning, someone does.

The Boy You Met (At The Coin Laundry) by Lee_Whimsy

Bilbo accidentally spends a summer in Ireland. One rainy day, Thorin appears in the hotel laundry room, naked and dripping wet and about to propose. (But not, unfortunately, to Bilbo.)

Gandalf, Thranduil, and a handful of Spanish footballers all guest-star.

Hooked On You by Chamelaucium

Thorin should have learnt not to trust his brother and sister by now.

Come with us on holiday, they’d said. It’ll be fun, they’d said. A nice break from work.

Yeah right. All this holiday had brought him was being knocked around the head, acute hay-fever, and the biggest, most ridiculous crush ever on the cute, golden-haired fishing instructor.

One-Sided Conversations by northerntrash

"Thank you for listening," Thorin said, getting to his feet. "I hope to be able to return the favour, one day."

The man on the bed didn't respond, but since he'd been in a coma for longer than Thorin had known him, that wasn't entirely surprising.

“One”/Soulmates

you lick your lips (you taste like years of being alone) by perkynurples for stopchasingflowers

Thorin Oakenshield was born without the longing, and has spent his whole life merely observing others as they pursued a feeling unknown to him until they finally found their One. He has made his peace with the prospect of being alone, and has been faring well enough, but little does he know the fates have a different story in store for him.

Things We Grow Together by serenbach

Dwarves are born with a bone-deep knowledge of their One, but Thorin stops feeling the pull of his after the dragon attacks Erebor. Needless to say, he is surprised, and not initially pleased, to find his One living behind a round green door decades later.

Hobbits find a seed that represents their innermost self and can offer it to someone else to plant. This creates a bond as strong as deep roots in the earth between them. It is just like Bilbo, after years of thinking that no one would want his, to offer his soul-seed to a dwarf that does not understand gardening metaphors.

But just because they have found each other does not make the quest to reclaim Erebor any easier, and in the end a sacrifice is still made.

Thorin has to trust in the strength of the bond between himself and his One, because otherwise he will never believe that the sacrifice was worth it.

Colour-struck by northerntrash

Soul mates are like adventures, Bilbo had often consoled himself. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that made you late for dinner. It was no great hardship that he had never met his, even if he couldn't tell which of his petunias were blue and which were purple.

Quest-ions

Discovering Mr Baggins by Eareniel

The story of a Hobbit, told through the eyes of the dwarves.

Thorin Oakenshield's Majestic Diary by Fruitsie

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and Totally Majestic Badass of Middle Earth, does not have a raging hard-on for Bilbo Baggins.

No, seriously.

Just read his diary.

Call You Home by northerntrash

In which the Company are entirely too nosy about matters that are supposed to be a secret, and Bilbo learns that being concerned about propriety is overrated when you could be making friends instead.

Time Travel (because walking Middle Earth is not enough)

Of an Arcane Binding by Salvia_G

An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor

#bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #the hobbit #fic rec #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield

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tcookies777 · 3 years

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Here is a sneak peek at a side story I've written for The Anatomy of Love (a KakaSaku modern college au - AO3 hyperlink included)! You don't need to have read the fic to read this side story since this is a flashback to Kakashi's past when he was a teen, but it does help to understand since it's in the context of the fic itself!

The Anatomy of Love: Side Story - What He's Looking For

About 17 years ago on a sunny September day...

They'd raised the prices on the gum again. Under normal circumstances, Kakashi would've thought that was absurd. Really, 4 ryos for a few sticks of gum with a strawberry flavor that would last for only—what?—fifty chews? But it was also understandable given that the war efforts required such generous financial contributions. Money didn't grow on trees and soldiers didn't come back to life. It was to be expected that the economy would tank during war, but looking at the propaganda posters, anyone would think Fire country was thriving. It was the exact opposite, however, and the high inflation, budget deficits, rise in taxes, and reduced consumption of goods only proved that. So he was loathed to think that he would have to waste a couple of ryo on a pack of gum, but he also wanted to support the soldiers on the frontlines.

With a sigh of defeat, he snatched the pack of gum off the stand before traipsing further down the store in search of his journey's main quest item. There wasn't really much supply to offer these days, and even less food to fill the shelves. But Kakashi wasn't here today to buy some bread or milk, so he had no need to worry about that. All he needed to worry about was looking for the right condoms. And as he entered the aisle of pleasure to peruse his selection for the day, his presence did not go by without notice from a nearby clerk. It was not entirely unusual to see a boy in this aisle, but the clerk had certainly not anticipated that the purpose of the boy's presence here was for contraception. Perhaps he thought the boy was buying for his father, or maybe even an older friend—which, technically, Kakashi suppose he was. But the clerk seemed adamant in keeping his eye on him and Kakashi did his best to ignore him. There was also the possibility that the guy thought he was a shoplifter. After all, despite the clean way Kakashi dressed in his slim dark jeans and olive shirt, he did have the rugged gaze of a kid who'd been beaten up by life but was now ready to fight back. That, and the apathetic darkness in his eyes tended to disturb adults whenever they encountered a kid who was too young to look at them like they were the ones who were younger.

Although, to be fair with the clerk, there had been an increase in theft and street crime ever since the war had started, so Kakashi didn't blame the guy for dogging after him up and down the aisle.

"Uh, hi…?"

The words came muffled through Kakashi's headphones. With a heavy sigh, he slowly reached up and tugged the headphones down to let them rest on his shoulders, but the music continued to blare loudly through both sides of the speakers. The clerk's brow twitched when the boy in front of him still didn't even spare him a glance.

A throat was cleared, and then, "Hi?"

Finally turning to meet the annoyed face of the man, Kakashi crinkled his eyes at him. "Yes, I heard you the first time."

The clerk's brows twitched harder and he shuffled a step closer, still not quite sure how to approach him or maybe the subject before them. "Uh, did you need help finding anything today?" he asked in a peppy voice, remembering to plaster his customer-service smile back on.

"What kind of condoms would a girl like?"

The clerk blinked at him. "P-Pardon?"

"What kind of condoms would a girl like?"

Realizing the boy wasn't joking, the guy's face reddened and he stammered, "I-I-I do-don't know!"

Hmm, pity. "Then I guess you can't help me," Kakashi sighed out, wandering further down the aisle to let the guy lick his wounds.

Ignoring the aghast look cast his way, Kakashi studied a box of condoms that were of various colors and various tropical flavors including strawberry, apple, orange, banana, and—oh!—even cherry. If his suspicions were correct, however, he doubted anyone would appreciate a cherry-flavored condom that tasted more medicinal than fruity. Still, maybe Sakae wouldn't care. She'd always had a wicked tongue that could handle the taste of anything, which Kakashi had learned when she'd swallowed down his cum like she was sucking up the last dregs of a vanilla milkshake.

But Kakashi set down the box and picked up the standard, ultra-fine lubricated condoms instead.

Tonight, he didn't plan to get another blowjob in the back of an abandoned lot. Tonight was meant to be the first lay of his life if he played all his cards right, which he'd had no problem doing so in the past few weeks since the night of his birthday when Sakae had taken him into the backyard to give him his first kiss. Even if the kiss had happened through his mask, she'd liked it enough to guide his hand to her generous breasts which he'd always taken the time to admire during dinners when she'd eat across him with her breasts resting on the edge of the table so that he could study the way a stray crumb would disappear down the same cleavage he often dreamt of burying his face in. And then the week after that, he'd guided her hand to cup him through his jeans, encouraging her to slip that hand down his pants and fist his cock well enough to make him burst into the cage of her fingers. The next week, it was her turn to guide his hand down her shorts too.

It should have left him quivering with trepidation when he'd slipped his finger inside her the first time, hearing her cry out either from pain or pleasure or both. Instead, Kakashi had felt no sense of fear or anxiety—or anything, really, save for the sense of satisfaction and curiosity as he explored the velvet insides of a girl for the first time. His fingers had to have been good enough if it eventually had Sakae collapsing against him, shaking and whimpering as if she was in pain but smiling like she enjoyed it. And so it was last week when Kakashi had to tug his mask back on and pull his face out from between her legs to ask if she could repeat what she'd just said.

'If you can get your hands on a condom, I'll do it with you.'

'Do what?' he'd asked her, her orgasm staining the thin cloth of his mask.

'Sex,' she'd purred in his ear, just as he'd expected.

And so in Kakashi's young but precocious mind, of course it only made sense that he would obey the lady's wishes—as well as his own—and seek out the item of his quest. As it was now, he tossed the box of condoms in his hand much like he would as if he was a character from a video game doing a little victory jig, tossing his trophy in a show of smug triumph.

But because it was still too early in the noon to return to the orphanage and catch Mrs. Matsuda breathing fire out her mouth with more bitching, he took a turn into the next aisle full of baby diapers. The efflorescent smell of baby wipes assaulted his nose, sweet as a baby's bum and much to odoriferous for Kakashi's tastes. Then again, he'd always despised the pungent chemicals of perfume. However, the stray pug in the alley across school was in desperate need of diapers since his crippled hind legs always trailed right through his own filth and feces, and Kakashi had grown tired of bathing the old dog daily with a neighbor's sort-of borrowed hose.

In the midst of studying the difference between 'disposable diapers' and 'disposable underwear', Kakashi was indifferent to the cart that rolled up near him just a respectable foot away. At the background of his thoughts regarding the expensive cons of disposable underwear, a woman's voice spoke aloud, her words lashing out with the venomous bite of anger. She wasn't speaking to him, of course, since he definitely had nothing to do with the 'sorry piece of sods who didn't know a leaf from a ryo bill'.

Inclined to give her a wide berth and let the lady yell into the phone without breaking his left eardrum, Kakashi sidled over a step or two. Apparently, it wasn't enough distance, however, as he felt something bump the side of his left sneaker.

He peered down from the disposable diapers and to the stuffed sloth that had somehow ended up against his shoe. Picking it up, he frowned at the sloth that was barely the size of his one hand. Just then his nose wrinkled at the scent that permeated from the stuffed toy—milk that seemed to have been churned up in the stomach and spat back out. Nose still wrinkled, he quickly adjusted his grip so that it was only his finger and thumb that pinched the ear of the sloth.

A quiet cooing sound quickly stole his attention away and to the side where a baby in a cart stared curiously at him. She was dressed in a hideous tuft of pink that nearly swallowed her whole with two chubby little feet poking out from beneath.

Kakashi glimpsed at the woman who was still berating whoever the poor soul was on the other end of the phone. Her back was turned, and she'd taken too many steps away from the child in her cart to notice Kakashi approaching the babe.

Sure enough, she smelled like milk and baby wipes. But there was also another softer, more subtle sweet scent beneath. Not quite aromatic like perfume, but it clung to her gently as if someone's perfume might've rubbed off on her rosy, chubby cheeks after one too many kisses or cuddles. Or maybe she'd just gone rolling down a hill of flowers—cherry blossoms, it smelled like—for all he knew. He didn't know what babies did in their free time besides piss, poop, and play anyway.

"Here," Kakashi muttered quietly, dumping the sloth in the cloud of pink tulle that was the baby's skirt.

Large spring green eyes blinked up at him as if she was asking, 'what the fuck is this doing on my lap?'

He shrugged and stepped away to return his attention to the shelf of diapers. But no sooner did he pick up a pack when he felt another nudge against his left shoe again. He glanced down at the sloth smiling up at him from its position by his shoe, and then he glanced over to the baby in the cart.

She was staring almost expectantly at him as if to say, 'pick it up, dumbass'. Or maybe she was just curious why a boy was wearing a mask when nobody else was. Perhaps she thought he was a creature of the night come to nom on the fat rolls of her thighs and this was her way of testing him. Nah, babies were curious oddities but not too astute.

With a roll of his eyes, Kakashi bent down to retrieve the sloth whose smile seemed more derisive than friendly now. While the mother was still turned away and barking into the phone, he pressed the sloth toy more firmly, insistently to the baby's front.

There it was again, those big eyes staring up at him like saucers of green tea. Huh, now that he thought of it, he hadn't had a cup of tea in a while. Rin had given away the last pack to a younger kid who'd wasted it down the drain anyway. Shit, but he remembered the prices for green tea had risen too. Oh well.

Taking a step away from the baby, Kakashi was miffed when she suddenly threw down her sloth at his feet again before he'd even had the chance to look away from her. He frowned and glared over at the mother who couldn't be bothered to keep a better eye on her daughter who'd decided only a few months old wasn't too young to start acting like a bratty princess already. A bratty princess who was treating him like her dog that she was playing fetch with, he realized belatedly.

As if to assert her royal if infantile position, she looked up at him, spring green orbs glittering with pure mirth as a gummy smile broke out on her face. Kakashi raised a brow at her, none too impressed when a wave of drool spilled down petal-pink lips and painted her poor sloth's face in saliva so that it looked like it was crying for help now.

Sighing quietly, Kakashi shook his head and decided to make his retreat from the diaper aisle. This was a battle he could not win, and the baby only proved that with a gleeful 'mah!' as she waved her hands, gesticulating in a language he could not begin to comprehend beyond grabby, chubby hands reaching for him. The further he retreated down the aisle, the more she kicked up a fuss, kicking up her tiny feet too. Her mother peeked over a shoulder for a split-second but looked away when she saw her baby was fussing for no reason.

Just as Kakashi turned the corner, he caught a glimpse of the baby tossing her sloth back down to the floor like it was her means of summoning her new dog to play fetch with her at her beck and call. Yeah, well, that went against Kakashi's domineering nature and so he stuffed his hands to search for the literature section.

Much to his pleasure, the books were kept at the back of the store where he could read through them in private without a clerk judging him for not paying for the paperback service instead. Much to his disappointment, however, there was no Make-Out Paradise and the selection of books was few and far between, and not to mention somewhat outdated since all the covers were easily recognizable from the days that he'd spent poring through them. Despite the pitiful collection of paperbacks collecting dust in the hopes a perverted reader might spread open their covers and peruse their naughty tales, Kakashi's attention zeroed in on the single brand-new hardcover tempting him with the 10% off sticker. Even more tempting was the cover art of a high school girl wearing a blouse that was buttoned just enough to keep from flashing a nipple, her tennis skirt a plaid black and red color to imitate the style of a uniform a private school girl was mandated to wear. A private school girl who wore that sultry smile just as well as she wore the necktie hanging loosely around her shoulders and arranged to cover a pair of hardened nipples.

Cracking open the cover, Kakashi inhaled the scent of fresh paper and ink first before glimpsing the first string of words that sat beneath the chapter title. He breezed through the first page, mouth quirking up when he recognized the set up for a good fucking. By the third page, however, his small smile had disappeared once he realized the setup was just that: a setup. No fucking. It was even more disconcerting when he flipped through the pages more quickly and concluded that most of the story was just one agonizingly slow striptease that he had neither the time nor patience for. He could even already see the ending from a mile away just by the building premise riddled with clichés and tropes: the professor gets caught and blamed for his sordid affair while his seductive mastermind of a student twiddles her thumbs in a very plausible show of innocence that hid her conniving smile. Of course, the man who gives in to temptation must always be punished for it in the end. It was a theme Kakashi was consistently seeing in almost every book he read.

With a huff of disappointment, he returned the book to the shelf where it could sit with its siblings to collect its own film of dust.

Straying his eyes over to the magazine section, Kakashi hummed in contemplation as he eyed the cover of a girl drawing the shape of a heart over her exposed lower belly with both hands, a peeled banana angled to censor her pussy. He picked up that magazine, flipping over to the section of the sex tips, most of which he already knew and had already practiced several times with Sakae. But, just for good measure, he decided to review the part that advised him how to last long during sexual intercourse.

It was when he was in the middle of studying about technique over speed did the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rose up at the same time the smell of tobacco and rotten garbage flooded his nose. Kakashi was about to gag but stopped himself when a man stepped into the aisle—into his peripheral view. There was nothing unusual about the guy as he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt sporting a rock band that had broken up too long ago for Kakashi to even know who they were. What was unusual, however, was the baby hoisted against his hip. The monstrous pink tulle skirt was fluffed up to block her face, but he recognized that hideous dress that nearly swallowed her.

The stench of tobacco and garbage grew stronger as the man stepped closer, and it overpowered the delicate scent of baby milk. Despite having never been a parent before, and certainly not old enough to even have a child, Kakashi was still aware that it was never a good idea to smoke in the presence of a pregnant woman or newborn child. If Rin were with him right now, he had no doubt she would instantly spin on her heel to give the man a good tongue-lashing. And even though Rin wasn't with him right now, he could still feel her elbowing his ribs hard to get him to stop the man.

So with a sigh, he lowered the magazine from his face and sidled his eyes over just to check if the man had some sort of joint in his hand. Nope, nothing but the toy sloth. Kakashi flicked his eyes over to the baby who kept squirming in the man's arms, whining quietly as she swiveled her head left and right as if in search of something. Her toy? No...

Her mom.

Kakashi turned his cheek to glance at the back exit of the store that was reserved for employee use. Just as the man was about to sweep by him, Kakashi dropped the magazine right in his line of path and quickly moved to intercept. The man jerked to a stop, visibly disgruntled by a boy's ass blocking his path to the exit.

"Oh, what a cute baby you've got there," Kakashi drawled out, standing up to set the magazine of sex tips aside. The man paused at the sight of the boy giving him a crease-eyed smile that seemed friendly enough, but hesitation still flickered through his scowling face. Nonplussed, Kakashi tilted his head to the baby beginning to squirm. "What's her name?"

"Hana," the man grunted, moving to step around him.

Kakashi stepped with him, still effectively blocking his path and still smiling beneath his mask although the crinkle of his eyes had smoothened away to display the dead apathy in his gaze. "But that's not really her name, is it?"

The man's eyes widened by a fraction and he stepped back, dropping the sloth toy to reach for something at his back. But Kakashi's instincts were razor-sharp as well, honed by the many late-night street fights he'd often get into on nights when he had trouble sleeping. So before the man could pull out his gun, Kakashi had already pulled out his own pocketknife in a flash and sunk the blade all the way into the man's eyeball so that the hilt rested against the brow bone.

There was an audible 'squelch' that had the baby whimpering louder in distress while Kakashi impassively watched red dribble over the bottom lid of the stabbed eye. The blood started to trickle down a scraggly beard. The man let out a gasp, still staring in surprise at Kakashi as if he couldn't register the knife that'd been jammed into his head or the baby calmly taken from his stiff arms. He stumbled back, reaching up a shaky hand as if considering pulling the knife out even though that would mean taking his eye out with it. With one last gasp, he toppled onto the floor, his one good eye now staring listlessly at Kakashi's scuffed sneakers.

The blood started to pool out from his head rapidly now, spreading across the shiny epoxy flooring of the store. Before the blood could stain the sloth toy, Kakashi swooped down to pluck it off the floor. The baby had stopped her whimpering, looking on curiously as he pressed the toy to her chest.

"This is the last time I'm picking it up for you," Kakashi warned her. "I'm not your dog."

Instead of breaking into tears under his irritated gaze, however, she defiantly dropped her toy sloth (away from the pool of blood, thankfully) in favor of grabbing for Kakashi's face. Faster than he could react this time, she had yanked down his mask to paw and smack his mouth with hands that had probably been in her mouth too. Kakashi's nose wrinkled once more at the weird, somewhat sweet milky scent that he was only now figuring out was indeed saliva.

He jerked his face back in disgust, but that only served to give her a better view of his mouth. She paused, big jade orbs widening at his lips and she broke out into another gummy smile before leaning forth, mouth open like she planned to give him either a great big wet smooch or a great big gummy bite.

"Why not save that for your mom?" He frowned at the river of drool spilling down her chin.

"Agooo!" she squealed gleefully.

"Uh… bless you?"

No longer holding back a cringe, Kakashi held her further away, glancing down when his shoes felt slippery on the floor. He belatedly realized he was now standing in a puddle of blood. And among the sharp scent of copper and the gentle smell of milk, there was now a foul odor that stung his nose and this time Kakashi did gag. The baby giggled aloud, prompting him to glare at her. She only responded with another fart and then a giggle. Kakashi rolled his eyes, adjusting her onto his hip so that he could pull his mask back over his nose even though it wouldn't help much.

"SAKURA!" A woman's voice screamed out—the same woman who'd been too busy arguing on the phone earlier to notice her baby playing fetch with a boy shortly before getting kidnapped by a man.

The woman rushed over in a panic, face flustered with tears and fear. She wrested her baby from Kakashi's arms, glaring murderously at him like he was the culprit and not the dead man on the floor. Well, dead men couldn't tell any tales, so it fell upon Kakashi's shoulders to explain what happened. Maybe it was better to start from the beginning instead of jumping right into the scene where he stabbed the guy's eye out on a hunch. Now the woman was hysterical, crying over her baby's safety and the horror of a dead man on the floor. The woman was still eyeing him warily as the clerk came around to see what all the screaming and blubbering was about. Then he, too, screamed at the dead body on the floor. Which had then resulted in Kakashi retelling his story from the beginning again, this time including how the little babe still farting in her mother's arms had attempted to make Kakashi her toy dog to play fetch with.

The mother hadn't taken too kindly to that part, of course, even though it was the truth and she had demanded him to tell the story all the way from the beginning.

And then the cops had come and now Kakashi was getting really tired of retelling the same story all over again. At this rate, Rin would give him an earful when he got home if Mrs. Matsuda hadn't already blown out his eardrums by then. Of course, it was only until the officers had gotten his statement did they go bother to check the camera footage. And it was only until every microsecond was picked apart and the man was confirmed to have a gun on him did the officers decide to let Kakashi go. If Kakashi had to be honest, he'd thought the police would let him go once he'd mentioned the name 'Sakumo Hatake' to them. Alas, they were too bewildered by the fact that a teenage boy was able to take down a kidnapper with multiple felonies in the blink of an eye. So the fact that said teenage boy was the son of Sakumo Hatake was more or less glazed over.

When the reporters had finally come, it was just a motley crew of young journalists that looked like they were more interested in ordering some burgers than reporting a mere kidnapping attempt. Kakashi couldn't blame them. A burger and a milkshake sound good, he thought to himself, too absentminded when the baby was shoved back into his arms again, this time by her mother who now seemed to have flipped a switch and was giving him—or rather the reporters taking pictures of them—a saccharine smile instead of the accusing scowl from earlier.

One of the reporters had the gall to say, 'smile!' when Kakashi had been forced to pose for a picture, holding the baby against his hip and against his will. Even beneath his mask, it was hard to attempt a smile when she kept making grabby hands at his face. Tufts of pale pink hair tickled his cheek when the mother managed to wrangle her cooing daughter to hold still for just one photo.

"She needs her diapers changed," Kakashi sniffed, all too happy to give the baby back before she really did start treating him like a toy dog to yank around with her.

When the journalists trailed after him in an attempt for an interview, they at least had the common sense to realize their efforts were futile as Kakashi easily sniped them down with curt, one-word answers. Although he'd found it amusing to see them tripping over the cords of their microphones, he was ecstatic (inwardly) when the crew had finally given up and left, having not much else to report but maybe a two-hundred-word essay at most.

Good. He didn't need Mrs. Matsuda blowing up in his face the moment he stepped back inside the orphanage. Not when she was already a ticking time bomb ready to explode over his tardiness and other riff-raff nonsense. She already had disdain for his recalcitrant behavior, and he was sure she was keeping a list of all his shameless shenanigans.

Which was why he hurriedly dumped his box of condoms, the diapers, and the pack of bubblegum on the counter. The clerk, still quietly bemoaning his inevitable duty to clean up the blood at the other side of the store, flinched when Kakashi slapped a ryo bill in front of him.

Only a few years older, the clerk eyed the condoms warily before shifting his attention to the boy who'd just killed a guy like he'd only been playing pin the tail on the donkey—or eye, in this case. "Uh… how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"You're pretty young."

"There's no age minimum to purchase condoms."

"Yeah, but I mean… aren't you a lil' too young to be..." The clerk trailed off unsurely.

"Fucking?" Kakashi finished for him, deadpan. "Or did you mean killing?"

It was a sincere question. He really didn't know if the clerk was raising his brow because of the condoms between them or because of the pool of blood further away. Or maybe his apathetic attitude to it all exacerbated the awkward atmosphere that reeked faintly of blood still.

There was also the option to just brag to the guy that he was old enough to already have a college degree under his belt and would have his Masters by fifteen years old. After all, prodigies like Kakashi didn't need to follow the guidelines of how to grow up like a normal child. He was far from normal, and they both knew it after what had just transpired today. But Kakashi found it more amusing to see the guy shiver visibly in distraught of how fucked up in the head this kid in front of him had to be to walk away from a crime scene like it was a walk through the park.

"Give me a pack of Spinel," Kakashi nodded to the cigarettes behind the counter.

The clerk hesitated once again. Clearly, fourteen years old was not quite old enough to buy cancer sticks like they were lollipops. But considering what this kid had just done to a full-grown man earlier and without so much as a blink of an eye... Smoking a cigarette seemed to be harmless when compared to killing a man.

With his condoms, diapers, bubblegum, and Spinel cigarettes now packed in a plastic bag, Kakashi crinkled his eyes at the clerk who shivered again when he realized it was the same expression he had just before killing a man. Unperturbed, Kakashi made his way out of the store, but not without suggesting aloud that they restock the literary section for the poor, depraved souls in desperate need of a raunchy book to soothe the ache of their groins.

On his way back to the orphanage, Kakashi stopped by the corner for a quick smoke. He counted his puffs carefully. Mrs. Matsuda had given up warning him of the addiction to nicotine he would develop sooner or later, but she underestimated him. The shrewd woman liked to believe that she knew him like the back of her hand just because he'd been under her wing for a couple of years already. Little did she know that underneath all that 'recalcitrant behavior that brought shame to his father', Kakashi was in complete control of himself. It was almost neurotic for him to fine-tune his body like an instrument—or a weapon—and constantly stay on high alert for any sign of danger. Like a master of his own puppet, he pulled the strings on every single muscle and breath he owned.

He was in control of himself, and he made a promise that no urge would ever control him. If he wanted to smoke a stick, that was fine. But he wouldn't let the cravings get out of hand. Because it hurt too much to want something so badly that it destroyed you, and Kakashi Hatake was all too aware of what that was like. He'd been craving the impossible since he was a five-year-old kid who'd discovered his father's gutted body one stormy night. And though the cravings never really stop, what mattered was that he was in control of himself.

Even so, he finished his last puff and dropped the stick to snuff it out with a quick grind of his heel. The sun was hanging low, signaling that it was almost in time for dinner and Kakashi knew that his tardiness would only add more fuel to Mrs. Matsuda's already raging fire. He could already smell the smoke of danger—or maybe that was just the smoke of his cigarette clinging to him. Still, he couldn't afford to listen to her bitch for an extra hour when he had another appointment to get ready for tonight.

And it was after dinner that he readied himself for that appointment by sneaking out onto the back porch to enjoy the fresh air as well as the bottle of vodka he'd swiped after picking the lock of the alcohol cabinet. The vodka ran down his throat like fire and settled warm in his stomach. He sighed, leaning back to watch a plane fly overhead. The backyard was filled with fireflies at this time of night, the bugs eager to get some fresh, cool air after a balmy day under the sun.

"Someone made the local newspaper today."

Kakashi glanced up as Rin lowered herself down to take a seat beside him. "Front-page?"

"Last," she replied, presenting him with the page of his deed—minus the word 'heroic' though. At the bottom of the page was a photo of him holding the baby, the both of them painted in shades of black ink and icky grey but neither of them even looking at the camera. Kakashi was in the middle of thinking how much the baby's cheeks look a lot like a chipmunk's when Rin sighed beside him. "They say you killed a man, Kakashi."

He raised his eyes to her. Her face was marred by a disapproving frown while his was as smooth and blank as a canvas.

"Yeah... And?"

Rin's frown deepened. "And... you don't seem to care," she said, her gaze heavy with woe instead of bright with fear.

"I don't care that I killed a man that was going to do god-knows-what to that baby?" He couldn't help but get a little defensive. What did she want him to do? Cry and mourn the loss of a man who contributed nothing to society and was more of a fungal infection that needed to be taken care of? Sure, a life was a life and Kakashi had no intention to play god and decide who lives and who dies. But in a situation like that, there was no choice but to decide who lives and who dies—and hadn't he made the correct judgment in killing the guilty to save the innocent?

Every soldier out on the battlefield was doing that right now. Killing people to save people. It was a necessary evil for the greater good, but maybe Rin didn't understand that quite yet. She was still young and naïve in the sense that she was a proponent for idealism rather than realism. She still had yet to take off her rose-tinted glasses and see the world for what it really was and not for what she wanted it to be. And right now, she was squinting through those glasses to scrutinize him.

He didn't know what she saw, but he knew she didn't like it.

"You know what I mean," she sighed, looking at him the same way she'd looked upon that crippled, old pug in the alley. Broken, and waiting for death.

Just like his father.

"Don't look at me like that, Rin," Kakashi muttered darkly. He looked away from her, taking a sharp swig of vodka straight from the bottle.

She clicked her tongue but grabbed the drink to take a sip, wincing from the burn before tapping a finger on the photo from the newspaper. "You know, it almost looks like this is your baby," she said with a teasing smile. "You almost look adorable as a teen daddy."

"Very funny," Kakashi said with a roll of his eyes although he was grateful for the change in subject. "You know I'm never having children, right? They're fussy and needy and I dare even say abusive. This one pulled my mask down and saw my face while I was helpless to do anything about it. She practically tried to assault her own savior!"

"What?! Why, out of all the people in this world, it's a baby who gets to see your face first?!" Now Rin was pouting with him, but a smile was threatening to twitch awake again. "So not fair. I wiped your puke the first time you got blackout drunk and you still wouldn't let me see!"

"I'll show you one day."

But first, he hoped she'd forget about it.

"At this rate, I'll be dead by the time you do show me."

"I promise to show you," he said, taking absolute care not to pinky promise because, according to Rin, those were unbreakable even for him. He dug into his pocket for the pack of strawberry bubblegum and tossed it to her.

"You remembered the flavor I asked for?" She looked pleased.

"I do have perfect memory."

"Only when you care to remember things."

He raised a shoulder into a shrug like he could care less. "Go brush your teeth and make sure to clean your tongue like I taught you. I can smell the garlic chips you snuck in."

Rin sniffed and curled her lip in distaste. "And I can smell the nicotine on you."

"That's from Asuma."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

She rolled her eyes back at him but stood up, brushing the invisible dust off her skirt. "What about you? If Mrs. Matsuda catches you here—and with her stolen vodka..." she had her brow raised at the way Kakashi had grabbed the bottle to hug it to himself. Then her brow dipped into a frown and she followed his gaze to the shadows of the backyard. Her face scrunched up in disgust. "Wait, are you going to be making out with Sakae again?"

"Of course not," he snorted. "I'm way past first base already."

And second, and third, and now he was on the last stretch of his home run.

"You say you'll never have children but you sure like practicing making them," Rin said dryly.

Kakashi shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a healthy growing boy with healthy hobbies."

That earned him a sharp kick in the ribs from Rin but he hardly winced. "Remind me to not buy you the next installment of the Make-Out series when it comes out next year."

Ouch. She knew where to hit him where it really hurt.

Hearing her leave to get ready for bed, Kakashi sat straighter, knocking the bottle back for another swig of vodka. He had a better tolerance than last year, and at 5 feet and 5 inches, he already had a solid build shaping up even if his bones still ached and his voice still broke. But he'd already become a man at five years old, growing up in the hard blink of an eye. The painful whiplash of his childhood ending so abruptly had already faded away, but he still found his thoughts straying to his father even on a night like this.

Glimpsing the photo of himself and that baby, Kakashi couldn't help but replace the image with him in his father's arms instead. He blinked once, and he was back to staring at his deadpanned face in sharp contrast to the giggling, gurgling baby he'd been forced to carry for the photo-op.

Heaving a sigh, Kakashi scrubbed a hand down his face before reaching for the newspaper to tear off that page. He folded the sides, making sure the edges were crisp and aligned before throwing the makeshift plane out into the garden. It caught a warm breeze and rode on the tails of the wind, rising higher into the night sky. Kakashi watched on, his memory of today's events already miles away like the paper plane would soon be; soon to be forgotten completely by the end of the night. And as the paper plane raced over the neighborhood, Kakashi's thoughts were now racing towards the future, particularly tonight during which he'd get to weigh Sakae's generous breasts in his hands again.

They're definitely just as soft and heavy as I remember, Kakashi thought at the back of his mind an hour later. But he'd also just as soon forgotten those plush breasts once he found himself inside of Sakae, fucking her in the shadows of the backyard with the rest of the orphanage (save for Rin) none the wiser. He'd impressed her when he managed to roll the condom on without a problem, and he'd been impressed when she guided him down on the bench to ride him. Then they'd both been impressed when, in a sudden turn of events, Kakashi had ended up bending her over and fucking her from behind, her hands gripping the bench so hard that her knuckles bled white and his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

When it was all done and nothing left to be said, Kakashi honestly didn't feel any different from before. Even when Sakae had blushed and stuttered through her words to tell him to take her out on a date, he felt no inclination to return the romantic sentiment. Of course, he'd still proposed to take her to the movies next week, and she'd proposed to give him a handjob if they stayed for the credits. But beyond the primitive nature that drove Kakashi to accept the sex, there was no tug at his heart the way Sakae's had been.

He liked her as much as he liked her big breasts, and he liked the sex just as much as any healthy, hormonal boy would at his age. But his loss of virginity tonight had changed virtually nothing inside him. Sakae didn't seem to notice at all though when she'd peck a goodnight kiss on his cheek, and Kakashi had given her that same crease-eyed smile he'd given to the clerk and the man he'd killed.

After checking that Rin was tucked in bed and asleep, he made his way to the boy's bathroom. There probably would've been a celebration of sorts among his male peers had they known that Kakashi lost his virginity and got to cum inside a girl—four years older than him at that—all in one night. But at the tender age of fourteen and a genius in his own right, the only one he could celebrate with was the old, crippled pug across the school. He was the only one of his peers who'd had sex with a girl, killed a man, and found his father's own corpse, so of course there wasn't really anyone he could talk to except for the pug who was already too tired laying on Death's doors to care about the fucked-up adventures of a fucked-up boy.

And when Kakashi started to strip off his clothes to shower off the smell of sex, it was then that he realized the bit of blood from the store had stained the edges of his sleeve, the red nearly blending into the black fabric. He didn't care for the copper scent, but he did frown at the light smell of thrown-up milk and cherry blossoms. But of course the baby had drooled on his shirt. He was probably lucky enough that she hadn't puked milk all over him too.

"Never gonna have children," Kakashi groused to himself, and then he stepped into the shower to rinse away the last evidence of today's events.

The rest of the chapter will be published soon on AO3 and Fanfiction.Net! Thank you for reading!

#kakasaku #kakashi x sakura #the anatomy of love

9 notes · View notes

jmflowers · 4 years

Note

3, 15, 17 for the fanfic ask 😊

3. Do you prefer canonverse or AUs?

I think for reading, I always lean more towards canonverse. I like those fill-in scene fics and being some place in a story that is ultimately really familiar. Canon fics are the ones I most often go back to and read again.

As for writing, I find myself much more drawn to AUs. I was always very, very driven by character development when in school and required to write my own creations, but I never really felt like I got good at world-building or plot lines. I started writing fanfiction specifically because it gave me established characters and, as such, forced me to get better at the other stuff.

15. Post the last line you wrote without context.

A lighthouse, guiding Charity home to safe harbour.

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

I wish this one was more than just an idea because I love the concept so much and it was so cathartic to write the first two parts, but I’ve been stuck on it for months and I’m not sure where to go with it next.

It’s called Hell & Back, inspired by the song of the same name by Maren Morris. I wanted to write something in second person that had an actual plot, as opposed to the usual character analysis style I typically do in second person POV. So far, I have written two interactions: the first and second times Vanessa meets Charity.

I don’t know how to talk about this one without giving it all away… I’m just gonna post part one here and we’ll see what happens...

You meet Charity on a Thursday, when the sun has finally given way to the storm clouds that have been creeping closer all morning. The rain pelts down in cold, hard slaps as you bend over a sheep that looks about as miserable as you’re starting to feel, examining its hooves for what you’re certain might be the start of foot rot in the herd. Moira won’t be pleased, not in the slightest.

“Shouldn’t you be ducking for cover?” someone calls over the sound of the rain, their voice slicing through the rising crescendo to reach your ears.

You twist, startled, looking up quickly to find the source. It’s a woman, stood about four yards away, watching you with her arms crossed atop the fence. There’s a fog that seems to hover around her, rising slowly like the steam above a hot cup of tea. It’s something you should look at closer, you’ll realize later, but in the moment, it flits away from conscious thought in the passing breeze.

You shiver, the rain well and truly soaked into your coveralls now, bits of hair plastered to your forehead in such a way that you’re sure isn’t flattering. Not like in those movies Tracy keeps making you watch.

“Shouldn’t you?” you retort, already turning your attention back to the sheep struggling in your hands. Fickle creatures, them; smart enough to recognize each other but not to see that you’re only there to help. You pull it harder onto its hindquarters, rendering it unable to escape and earning a pathetic bleat in response.

“Really rather be torturing sheep than cuddled up warm and dry?” It’s the woman again, her voice suddenly closer than it’d been before. You look up just in time to see her leaning over the side of the pen you’re in, pulling a face at the animal in your arms. Your eyes flick to the gate she’d been stood beside before, the chain still wrapped securely around the fence post just as you’d left it.

“I’m not torturing it,” you murmur, eyes dragging back to her face. Did you miss the sound of her hopping the fence? Are you so tuned out that you wouldn’t be aware of someone approaching like that?

She laughs, the green of her eyes almost sparkling as she tips her chin up into the air. “Don’t know that he’d agree with that statement, babe.” She’s near enough now that you can count the freckles trailing down her neck, guiding your eyes to the dip at the top of her jacket.

“She,” you say without thinking, always just a breath from correcting. Like your mother, that; a habit you’d always hated when you were on the receiving end.

But she doesn’t scrunch up her nose like Tracy does when you do the same to her, voicing annoyance louder than her words ever could. No, Charity just tilts her head and hums out one of those noises that sounds like a question, as though she’d rather you explain further than shut right up.

“This is a ewe, not a ram,” you offer, trying to pull back that prim and proper tone that seems to appear whenever you’re clarifying something. It’s like a flashback to being sat in the front row at school, pretending you didn’t hear the girls snickering behind you. “Male sheep have horns, females don’t.” Even Rhona’s teased you for it, mimicking after she’d overheard you giving directions to a client.

“Huh,” Charity says, dropping her gaze to the animal once more, “Guess that’s why everyone always assumes the devil’s a man.”

It’s a funny thing to say, odd enough that you freeze for a moment before you manage to come up with a response. Later, you’ll understand why she did, when you know her well enough to grasp the twists and turns of her mind. But not right now. No, the first time you meet her, you just think she’s a strange one.

“Male and female goats both have horns,” you sputter when the quiet between you has stretched on for too long. You want to kick yourself the second her eyes flick back to you, her gaze so clearly telling that it is you – not her – whom she thinks is odd.

“Is that right?” she asks with a smirk, “Always did like them better.”

You, too, though you don’t say. Not normal conversation, is it, to tell a stranger that you’ve always preferred that gentle knowingness hidden behind a goat’s eye? Be a vet, Vanessa, if you must, your mother had said, But, don’t be one of those people who only speaks of animals.

The prim and proper comes from her, you know, all the things you’d been poked and teased for stemming from the ideal daughter she’d tried to craft you into. Not like your father, who laughs when he shouldn’t and smiles when it’s impolite and says the sorts of things you’d never dare to. You wonder, often, how they ever got together long enough to have you.

“So, what are you doing then?” she asks, lurching her body further over the pen until you can feel her breath beside your head. It’s hot, much hotter than you’re prepared for when the cold is so busy burrowing into your bones. She keeps her eyes trained on your hands, trying to get a good look at the hoof you’re clutching – not a pretty one, either, not the sort you’d ever show anyone other than Paddy or Rhona. You tuck it a little lower, trying to hide the swelling beneath some wool.

“They’re sick,” you mutter, your brain spiralling backwards to the game plan you’d been formulating before she’d interrupted. You’ll need one, before you head up to the house to tell Moira what’s going on. It’s likely the field, you think, all this low-lying ground and the abundance of rain in the past few weeks has surely not helped the situation.

“With what?” Charity presses. Her breath feels like fire where it meets your neck, scalding the gooseflesh beneath your ponytail as she speaks.

You lean away, lowering your arm enough that the sheep squirms hard in your grasp, knocking you off balance. You fall back against the fence, hands grappling behind yourself to grab onto something sturdy. The sheep takes its opportunity, tipping to the side before scrambling to its feet and taking off towards the others. They bleat at the new arrival, corralling themselves into a bunch beneath the only tree at the far edge of the pen.

You huff, frustrated instantly and unsure where to lay the blame. You can feel your brow furrowing when you turn to meet her eye, catching the twinkle and the smirk that you assume are present at your expense. “Foot rot,” you mutter, pushing away from the fence angrily. Won’t be easy to catch that one again, now that it’s had a taste, especially not when the field’s gone slick with mud.

“Sounds gross,” she says, dropping down off the fence to follow as you stalk across the pen to your bag. The rain has sent splatters of mud up the side of it, a match to the boots on your feet. “You a farmer, then?” she asks.

The laugh comes before you can decide whether you mean to or not, a breath bursting across your lips at the notion of you in Moira’s shoes, depending on animals for your livelihood in a different sort of way than you already do. No, you’ve never quite managed to imagine a clean picture of yourself with a farm, always something just slightly off that made you shy away.

“’Fraid not,” you chuckle, “I’m a vet.”

She nods knowingly, stepping back out of the way when you open the gate to the outer laneway where she stands. “They’ll be okay, then?” she murmurs, eyes shifting over your shoulder to the herd.

You shrug, because it’s not a guarantee of course – none of these things ever are – but you’ve caught it early enough that you don’t anticipate too much damage. Some zinc sulfate baths to start, a round of vaccinations if it comes to it, and the sheep will be good as new in no time. “They’ll be fine,” you answer, “Though I might not be, when I tell Moira she’ll have to spend the next few weeks coaxing them into a few feet of solution to stave off the infection.”

Charity laughs, the sound lighting something low in your belly. The rain feels distant when you’re stood so close to her, the wet of your coveralls barely a blip in your mind though you’ll be desperate for a hot shower the second she’s gone.

“Well, best be careful, then,” she suggests, the remnants of her smile softening the edges of her words, “Wouldn’t want to miss seeing you again.”

She turns away before you can formulate an answer, strolling down the laneway toward the open fields at the back of the property. You have half a mind to call after her, to invite her inside for a cuppa and a towel, but she’s over the hill before you can find the courage to shout.

It’s not until much later, when you’re laid in bed replaying the day in your mind that you realize she hadn’t much seemed like she’d needed a towel. She hadn’t much seemed like the rain had touched her at all.

#janelle’s asks #fanfic asks #ask game #justusandlove #minefic

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newobsessioneveryweek · 5 years

Text

If You're Thirsty Have A Drink, Just Not This One

Chapter 3: Zumi & Rola

Previous | First

Sorry for the immensely long wait. I've been busy writing a game for the LU AU. There's a link in my description if you're part of that fandom and want to check it out.

Anyway! Here's the story.

A blue force engulfed the pair of travellers and before Sidon could comprehend the bizarre weightlessness he felt he and Link were deposited onto the platform of Monya Toma shrine a little ways away from Serenne stable.

Prince Sidon took an unsteady step off of the dais and took in the vista; a declining hill with sparse trees dotting the area, the stable below and little ways to the right. Link hopped down next to him and pulled out two shields from his slate. Sidon was curious.

"Pardon if I'm being foolish Beloved, but what are those for," Sidon said, pointing at the shields in Link's hands.

Link didn't answer immediately. Instead he gave Sidon one of the shield and placed his own on the ground facing down. He then brought up his hands to answer Sidon's question.

'They're for shield surfing,' he signed with a devilish smirk. Sidon looked horrified, yet eager. He'd never done anything as daring as shield surfing and was excited to try it. But there was also a reason for staying away; it was an awfully dangerous activity. 'Don't look so nervous. It will be fun. I promise,' Link signed, excitement written plain as day on his face.

Sidon tried to keep quiet about the last time Link promised something would be fun. He still couldn't look at hylian rice without gagging. He decided to entertain Link's enthusiasm for a while.

"A-alright Dearest. I trust you, somewhat" Sidon said, whispering that last word to himself. "As long as you return me in one piece to my father."

Link waved his hand dismissively and nodded. The gesture seemed like it was out of annoyance, but Link had a smile on his face which said otherwise.

He showed Sidon how to adjust his stance on the shield before he whizzed off toward the stable at a great speed.

Sidon tried to keep up, but his delayed start left him metres behind Link, travelling at a pathetically slow, stuttered pace due to his inexperience. When he finally reached the bottom he failed to slow his momentum and rammed straight into the fence, pivoting over by his abdomen and ramming his face hard into the fence and flipping all the way over until he landed painfully on his back

Link failed miserably to keep his composure and burst out laughing so hard that tears pricked at his eyes.

Sidon sat up shakily and glared intensely at Link, though without much anger. He got to his feet and walked over to Link, who was still killing himself laughing. He lifted Link's head up by his chin with one claw and looked straight into his eyes. Link stopped laughing, but had a slight, almost imperceptible smile on his face. "That," he said with false venom, "was not fun."

Link snorted and once again started laughing, nearly falling on his back due to Sidon's attempt at being intimidating. Sidon immediately gave up the pretence and started laughing as well, tackling Link to the ground and lying down next to him, both of them cracking up at what they had experienced.

After the pair calmed down they headed to the stable to take out two of Link's most beloved horses. Before they reached the counter a tall blonde girl trotted over to them. She stopped in front of Link, a hair's breath away from his face.

"Hey Link! Here for a visit," she moved away from him and giggled to herself and whispered behind her hand, "You should probably stay here forever just to be safe," she giggled again.

Sidon strained to hear, but when he did he was appalled.

The gall of this woman!

"I beg you pardon?"

"What," she asked carelessly.

Sidon realised his tone was a bit more harsh than he intended but he didn't change it. He huffed. "N-never mind," he said, thougg with a slightly embarrassed tone.

Link probably didn't even hear what she said... or maybe he did and was just thinking over her offer!

Sidon fumed. He did not find this girl very endearing at all given her disregard for other pateons and her blunt nature.

"Excuse me, but we have more important business to attend to," Sidon said putting his hands on Link's shoulders and ushering him away from the girl.

Who does that girl think she is? Stay here forever? What kind of fool's question-

Sidon's train of thought was interrupted by the girl calling out to them.

"H-hey! Wait," she began and ran after them. "Who even are you? I was talking to Link," she said angrily.

Sidon turned around sharply, "I am Sidon, the Zora Price." He folded his arms and Link just stared at the rivals, dumbfounded.

She scoffed. "Oh yeah. And I'm Zumi, the stable queen," the girl said undeterred. "I'm not buying your little act fish boy."

Link stepped between the two people who were getting dangerously close to each other the louder they argued. Link spread his arms, separating the warring people. When he was sure they wouldn't continue he began signing, "Enough, the two of you. Sidon," he turned to the prince, "you are a prince, conduct yourself accordingly. Zumi," he turned to Zumi, "How dare you treat a prince with such disrespect. I'm disappointed in the both of you," Link said taking turns to look each of them in the eyes. When they both looked rightfully ashamed Link dropped his scolding attitude and put on a smile. "Well! Now that that's sorted, me and Sidon are going to saddle up. See you later Zumi," Link picked up Sidon's hand and darted for the counter. Zumi just stood there in shock then huffed and walked away angrily.

Once Link selected their horse he introduced Sidon to his stallion."This is Price," Link signed, gesturing to the pure white horse he offered to Sidon, "He's a descendant of Princes Zelda's horse from 100 years ago. I think he'll take to you nicely considering the shared title," Link snickered.

Sidon accepted his horse and petted the creature's flank. He wondered about Link's chosen steed; a mare with a stunning white main contrasted against her brown body. She had white fur on her legs that looked adorably like she was wearing socks. "And your horse Dearest?"

"This is Epona," Link stated with a sweet smile gracing his features, "The horse of Legend. She was meant for me apparently, and I can understand why," Link said in almost a dreamy state as he reminisced. He petted his horse lovingly and fed her a swift carrot. He gave the other carrot to Sidon to give to his horse to help Prince trust Sidon before instructing him to climb on.

With much difficulty, and a lot of help from Link and the stable keep, Sidon was situated in his saddle and ready to go.

"We'll take the scenic route; it's also the shortest route to Rito Village. We should get there in a few hours if monsters don't bother us on the way. If that's the case it might a whole day. Don't worry though. I took care of all the monsters en route after the last blood moon so there shouldn't be any trouble," Link signed.

Sidon was grateful that they wouldn't have to account for monster attacks, but he was still on guard nonetheless.

0_0_0_0_0_0_0_0_0

Rito Village, the village in the sky, looked stunning from Rito Stable stable.

Sidon and Link boarded their horses and prepared for a long, boring meeting with the village elder.

They made their way across the three bridges connecting Rito Village to the main land. When they arrived they made a beeline to the hut situated at the very top of the impeccably built structure against the monolith.

Once at the top the pair greeted the elder with the due respect and introduced the reason for their visit; building alliances for the benefit of both parties.

The elder was delighted at the proposal and allowed the Prince and the Hero to plead their case.

A proper meeting with the village council was agreed upon to solidify their new alliances.

0_0_0_0_0_0_0_0

Sidon breathed a long sigh of relief once the meeting was over. He'd always hated long meeting with council members (everyone disagreeing with everyone, long, unnecessary tangents, and, worst of all, making arrangements).

A break was needed, desperately. But, damn was it freezing."

"Beloved, do you perhaps know where I could acquire some warm clothes?"

Link was wearing his snowquil outfit, but had completely forgotten about Sidon. "I'm so sorry! I totally forgot." He hurriedly apologised. "There's a clothing store you can go to. It's called Brazen Beak. I'll take you there."

Once there Sidon bought himself the same snowquil outfit Link wore, save for the headdress, as Sidon didn't have any hair to tie the ribbons around. Instead he borrowed Link's Ruby Circlet that he bought in Gerudo Town.

"Now that I'm warm Dearest, is their anything recreational you'd like to do during our stay?"

Link thought for a moment before responding with an eager nod. "I want to go shooting at the flight range. It's just by those mountains over there," he said pointing at a distant mountain range.

"Over yonder? That seems a bit far wouldn't you say?"

Link shook his head and brought out his slate, an indication that there was a shrine situated near the location of interest. He tapped the tablet a few times and before Sidon could protest they were being transported to the Flight Range via strange harnessed technological energy.

0_0_0_0_0_0_0_0

When Sidon and Link climbed the ladder up to the small stilted hideout a white Rito was sitting next to a fire with a hatchling.

"Ah Link, it's good to see ya. How've you been?"

"Link," Tulin exclaimed excitedly.

"Hi Teba, hey Tulin. It's going great. This is Sidon," Link gestures to the Zora and sat down next to the Rito.

"So what are you doing here. It's been a while. Come to test your skills?" Link nodded. Sidon had been meaning to see Link's archery skills in action. "Well, you're in luck. Tulin's been looking for a teacher. Care to help him brush up on his technique?" Tulin nodded excitedly from his place at the fire.

"Sure thing, Teba." Link grabbed a bow and quiver from his slate and nocked an arrow. "Ready Tulin?"

"Ready," the little hatchling called out.

The two archers made their way to the platform. Link drew his paraglider and Tulin spread his wings, and the pair took to the sky.

Link adjusted Tulin's grip while flying next to him, his quiver hanging by his hip and his bow held between his right hand's thumb and index finger while he held onto the paraglider. Link let go of the paraglider, the object disappearing into blue light and Link loosed and arrow, nailing a target in the bullseye. The paraglider promptly reappeared in Link's hand and he continued to make adjustments to Tulin's hold of the bow and his aim.

Sidon was flawed by Link's mastery. He continued to do this for two hours, showing Tulin examples until his arrow supply ran out and he finally returned to the platform.

"Well Teba, it's been fun but I gotta restock," Link signed with a smile.

"I get it. Thanks for the lesson. I'll see you next time-"

"Yeah, thanks Link," Tulin interrupted as he gave Link a crushing hug. Link returned it and the two went on their way.

0_0_0_0_0_0_0_0

"There are no arrows stocked in the market. We'll have to go elsewhere," Sidon stated.

"Yeah. We could make our way to Kakariko Village to talk with Impa. While we're there I can buy some arrows. Ready for round four of Warp Travel," Link asked with a smirk.

Sidon swallowed hard then nodded.

Link held out his hand for Sidon to hold and Sidon took it. As Link pressed the button to activiate the warp feature Sidon leaned down and laid a small kiss on his beloved's forehead to remind himself that he was safe.

0_0_0_0_0_0_0_0

Sidon stumbled gracelessly off the platform. His stomache did a somersault in his abdomen and he deeply regretted his decision to travel all around Hyrule.

Link snorted at Sidon's misfortune and walked over to him. He mocking kissed Sidon's hand in a motherly action to 'kiss it better'.

Sidon retracted his hand and started down the hill. Link followed.

Once they were down they made their way to The Curious Quiver. Sidon thought the name was a bit strange until he saw the owner; a woman, dark of complexion, with dark hair and a creepily enthusiastic smile. She spotted Link as he walked in and waved him over.

"Link! You're back- I-I mean welcome to The Curios Quiver."

Link waved at the woman, "Hi Rola, what's your variety look like?"

"Oh, um, mostly fire arrows. Why? Interested in renewing our little challenge," Rola asked with a not-very-subtle wink.

Sidon, once again, for the second time that day, was appalled by a woman's bluntness and audacity. Not only did she completely ignore him, she was actively flirting with his lover!

How dreadfully rude.

"I'm sure my beloved has business to attend to with me," Sidon put emphasis on the word 'beloved' when he spoke to make sure this 'Rola' didn't mistaken their relationship as that of friends.

What was this 'challenge' anyway, Sidon wondered.

Judging from the way the woman said it and then winked it sounded awfully risqué. That definitely did not calm Sidon's nerves.

As Link bought his arrows Sidon grumbled audibly to himself. Link giggled at that.

The pair walked out of the shop, Sidon forcing his hand into Link's as a display of ownership to his 'challenger'.

Link couldn't contain his laughter for the second time that day and burst out laughing at Sidon's jealously. "Ok tough guy, what was that about," he asked, although he already had a very obvious clue.

"Hng, it's just, why do so many people in this goddess-forsaken land want you so badly? I mean- I completely understand, but since you fail to make this relationship public, they take the liberty to assert themselves and 'make their move' as people say. Why don't you stop them," Sidon complained.

Link just stared at him, a softness in his features. He smiled lightly."Because I love you, and that cannot be changed. No matter how many people push themselves on me they cannot change how I feel about you. I don't stop them because I know that they know that too; they can see it in the way I look at you, because when I see you I see the most amazing, caring, and kind person I've ever met. You don't have to worry because that will never change."

Sidon and Link just stood there at the goddess statue, staring lovingly into each other's eyes.

"And because I like seeing you get jealous," Link signed and ran to Impa's house.

"Wha- hey!" Sidon began running after Link. "That's not very kind of you, Beloved."

The pair barged into Impa's lodging and Sidon unwittingly tackled Link to the ground and they tumbled forward.

"Zora Prince, Hylian Champion," Impa said and the hero and prince promptly looked up at her. "I believe you have come to make a proposal. Am I correct?"

Aaaaaand DONE! Finally. I'm so sorry about the long wait, but wait no more!

It's not that great of a chapter, but I'll try to make the next one better.

Original post by @hylianfury

#if you're thirsty have a drink #just not this one #chapter 3 #Sidon is jealous type #link is oblivious #or is he?#sidlink #sidon #link #sidon x link #link x sidon #the legend of zelda #the legend of zelda breath of the wild #botw #zelda botw #loz botw #fanfiction

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ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

Text

chapter 8 of love is the only thing we can carry with us (kristanna slowburn/angsty but cute/no magic au, rated t) is up!

next chapter // all chapters

“About time you got here!” she called, laughter in her voice. “It feels like I’ve been waiting for hours.”

He came to a stop just as he reached the peak of the hill. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, I might as well turn around and go back…”

“Don’t you dare!” she ordered, no longer able to restrain her excitement as she flew off the porch and ran to him, flinging her arms around his waist.

Stunned, he stood frozen for a moment before hugging her back, pulling her close against his chest. Surely she had to hear the way his heart was ricocheting off his ribcage, the way his breathing had quickened, but if she did, she didn’t care.

“I missed you, too,” he whispered, feeling her arms tighten around him in response.

“Are you sure you feel like going up there, Kris? You still look pretty gross to me.”

“I’m fine, Olaf.”

“I’m just saying, you seem pretty pale and weak and stuff. I would get back in b–”

The boy’s protests were cut off by a shriek of glee when strong arms swept him high off the ground. Olaf whooped as Kristoff set him on his broad shoulders with a grin.

“Do I still seem weak now?” he teased.

Olaf clapped. “Do it again! But flip me this time!”

“Even I have my limits, bud. But you can stay up there while I finish getting my stuff together.”

“Okay!”

Kristoff hummed to himself as he finished filling up his satchel with what he might need for the day. His lips curved into a soft smile as he picked up the mug Anna had loaned him, running his thumb gently over the rim, wondering if she’d ever used this one herself, if her mouth had lingered there.

“Kristoff! I have a question!”

Startled, he nearly dropped the mug. “Olaf, you really don’t have to shout all the time.”

“Yes I do. Just now I had to say your name two times before you listened.”

Kristoff sighed and carefully began wrapping the mug in a spare rag and tucking it into the satchel. “What is it?”

“Can I go with you?”

“Not this time. You’ve got to help Grandpapa, remember? You’re helping him run errands and then going to talk to Gothi about taking over my job.”

“But I thought I was the new helper.”

“You are. Just sometimes…I don’t know, if something happens with Anna, and Grandpapa can’t go, then he can.”

“Why can’t you just do it? I thought you liked her. If you don’t like her, then why did you send her so many letters?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Kristoff asked, reaching up to tickle Olaf until the boy giggled and clambered down, running into the next room to escape the torment.

In truth, he and his grandfather both knew there would be little need for Gothi to actually do anything. Anna’s condition had been improving to the point that she no longer needed to be kept under a watchful eye every day, so long as she continued following Grandpapa’s advice, even when it meant choking down little vials of sludgy brown medicine.

For the long term, the outlook was still bleak, a thought that still felt like a punch to the gut every time it crossed Kristoff’s mind. But for now, Anna was well and whole as she could be, and after a week of being cooped up indoors with a particularly nasty cold, so was he. And he was going to see her again, because he had promised– because she wanted him to.

Unconsciously he ran his hand over his pocket, where he’d put the letter she had sent with Olaf yesterday. Yes. I can’t wait. See you tomorrow. I’ve missed you.

He didn’t know why he was holding onto such an unimportant note; it was a grubby little piece of paper, clearly written in a rush, smudged with dirt from where she’d been working in the garden with Olaf. He knew what it said, so he had no need to re-read it, though he had done so at least half a dozen times.

He heard a small cough and looked up to see his grandfather leaning in the doorway, wearing a look of concern that was starting to seem permanent. It hadn’t budged since Kristoff had burst in saying he couldn’t take care of Anna anymore. He’d spilled it all out to his grandfather, explaining how he’d found Anna weeping outside in the storm, how they remembered each other, how it was starting to feel wrong to accept payment from the queen to take care of someone he considered a friend– and how he was starting to fear his affection for Anna might cloud his judgment.

He had talked so long– unusual for him– that his grandfather had insisted he stay the night, which had turned out to be a blessing in disguise when Kristoff had woken up the next morning burning with fever. Even then, Grandpapa’s frown hadn’t been quite as deep as it was now.

“Thanks again for letting me stay here,” Kristoff said, shouldering his bag.

The old man nodded slowly. “I’m your grandfather. I could hardly throw you back out into the storm shivering with fever and hacking up a lung.”

Kristoff started for the door, but his grandfather didn’t move; instead, he held up a hand. “Are you sure about this, son? I worry about the harm it may cause.”

“We talked about this yesterday, Grandpapa. We’re going to go really slowly, and I’ll watch her, and we’ll turn back the second she starts having a hard time. It’ll be okay.”

“I wasn’t talking about the princess.”

Kristoff shifted uncomfortably where he stood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “We’re just going on a walk.”

His grandfather nodded, stepping aside. “Be careful, all the same,” he said, and Kristoff, feeling a sudden burst of affection, leaned down to hug him.

“Always am, aren’t I?” he said, hoping he sounded cheerful, as he pulled away and headed for the front door. “You be careful, too. Don’t let Olaf steer the wagon, no matter how much he begs.”

“I’d sooner jump in a frozen lake. That would be a lot less foolish.”

—

Summer was finally coming to the mountain. For weeks it had teased them with the promise of an early-ending spring, giving them sun-drenched afternoons that faded into chilly twilights and cold winds that crept through windows that had been cracked open for the first time in months. But June was just around the corner, and the whole world was fresh and sweet as the wildflowers that wavered in the breeze. Kristoff had left his outerwear at home, wearing only a loose blue shirt and rolling up the sleeves so he could feel the warmth of the mid-morning sun seeping into his bones. A feeling of contentment settled over him like a cat curling in the windowsill for a nap, and he found himself smiling as he climbed the hill and the cottage came into view.

His smile broadened when he saw Anna waiting for him on the porch, bouncing slightly on the tips of her toes as she waved. “About time you got here!” she called, laughter in her voice. “It feels like I’ve been waiting for hours.”

He came to a stop just as he reached the peak of the hill. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, I might as well turn around and go back…”

“Don’t you dare!” she ordered, no longer able to restrain her excitement as she flew off the porch and ran to him, flinging her arms around his waist.

“I missed you, too,” he whispered, feeling her arms tighten around him in response.

They stood that way for a while before Anna untangled her arms from around him and he reluctantly let go. “Sorry,” she said, color flaming in her cheeks. “It’s just been, uh, really quiet around here.”

“Are you telling me even Olaf wasn’t enough to keep you occupied?”

She laughed. “After a while, all his questions sort of fade into background noise. But I hope it gave you some relief to send him up here so much. Are you feeling better now?”

“Definitely.”

Her eyes lit up. “And ready to take me on an adventure?”

“Of course. But here–” he said, digging in his satchel and pulling out the carefully wrapped mug. “Might want to put this up first.”

She took it with a grin and headed for the kitchen. “Did it help?” she called over her shoulder as he followed her in.

“Yes. Even better than Grandpapa’s medicine.”

“Oh, god, I think anything would be better than that,” she said with a theatrical shiver as she replaced the mug in the cabinet. “Before we go, do you need me to get anything? Or I can help you carry your satchel if you need a break, or…”

“Actually, I forgot a blanket. Would you mind grabbing one for us?”

She nodded excitedly and darted into the living room for the now-familiar plaid blanket. He grinned after her; he hadn’t forgotten at all, but he had long since realized how much it meant to her to help out, even with the smallest things. The blanket would easily be light enough for her to carry it all day without getting tired– and besides, he was starting to feel attached to this one.

She came back with it folded over her arm, practically vibrating with excitement. “Okay, I’m ready. Where are we going?”

He led her outside, holding the door open for her and laughing when she clumsily curtsied in spite of her cargo. “To one of my favorite places. It’s not far, but we do have to walk since I don’t have Sven today. Tell me if you get tired, okay?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve spent so much time cooped up indoors laying around like a lump, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired again.”

He led her down the hill, making sure to take the least steep path down the slope, and then veered to the right, towards a gap between two oak trees. “Watch where you step. There’s a path, but I haven’t been out here since last fall, so I don’t know how clear it is.”

Normally, he could have easily made the hike in twenty minutes by walking at a clip and scaling the small cliff that blocked the way, but none of that was possible with Anna in tow. He found himself not caring in the slightest, relishing her little gasps of excitement each time she sighted something new and wondrous and paused to examine it. That was the benefit of taking the long way around; it meant more time with her, and it meant there was no risk of over-exerting herself– the incline was slight this way, and there were ample opportunities for her to stop and catch her breath without embarrassing herself by having to ask.

That was what he’d told his grandfather the day before, having carefully chosen this spot and planned out his argument over two days spent in bed in between dozing off and listening to Olaf chatter on about everything that floated through his mind.

Anna, for once, was almost quiet, blue eyes wide with wonder as she drank it all in. Kristoff found himself wishing he could see his world through her eyes, meet the mountain and its hidden treasures for the first time all over again. “Kristoff, this is the most amazing place I’ve ever seen,” she breathed, examining a butterfly that was sunning its wings on the side of a tree. “I could stay here forever.”

Then stay, he thought. “Just wait. We’re almost there.”

They turned a corner past a copse of trees, and Anna gasped, her hands flying to her mouth so quickly Kristoff barely had time to catch the blanket as it fell. “Is– is this real?”

He laughed. “I hope so. Come on.”

He led her into the glade, feeling a sense of pride as she stared, speechless. They were near the banks of a pond that shimmered an unearthly blue, the color of water that had once been part of a glacier. It was past midday, and the sun sparkled on the surface of the pond, as if stars had fallen there and decided to linger. Beneath their feet was a field of tiny purple primroses, which Anna was doing her utmost not to crush.

“Do you really like it?” Kristoff asked, suddenly nervous.

She nodded furiously. “Oh, this is going to the top of my happy ever after list.”

The ground was still damp from the last remnants of spring rains and melting snow, and so he led her to a small boulder caught between shade and sunlight that rose almost to his height. “Need help climbing up?”

“I can do it,” she said, already scurrying towards the smaller rocks beside it and clambering up.

He grinned. “Well done, feistypants.”

Once she was seated, he found a foothold on the side and hoisted himself up with ease. To his surprise, when he glanced at Anna again, her cheeks were pink.

She cleared her throat. “So, anyway, while we’re on the subject, did you ever think of yours?”

“My what?”

“Your happy ever after, remember? I told you mine ages ago. Now it’s your turn.”

He pondered it for a minute. He’d given the idea thought for a brief moment here and there, more out of boredom than anything else. But now, with a sense of peace warming him even more than the sunlight, he thought maybe he had an idea.

“I think mine would just be…being here as much as I can. Just enjoying all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the view.

“That’s it?”

“Well, it’s all I’ve got.”

“No big house or piles of money or beautiful wife?”

Why were his cheeks suddenly burning? “I– I mean, if that stuff happened too, it would be nice. Probably, anyway. But this is all I really need.”

She tilted her head, examining him, before nodding in approval. “Then it counts. Congratulations, Kristoff Bjorgman, you’re officially part of the happy ever after game.”

“Is there a prize to win?”

“It’s not that kind of game.”

“Then it’s not a game, is it?” he teased, and she stuck out her tongue.

“What’d you bring in your bag?” she asked, already pulling it open to see for herself.

“Sandwiches. I thought you might be–”

“My favorite!” she exclaimed, pulling one out. “You remembered.”

“Lucky coincidence,” he lied. “Just the easiest picnic food to pack.”

Anna was already tearing into a ham sandwich, looking distinctly unprincesslike. Kristoff unwrapped one for himself, and they ate in companionable silence, enjoying the warmth of the day as it thawed away the last of winter’s chill.

After a while, he glanced over to see Anna leaning forward, elbows propped on her knees as she rested her chin on her hands. She noticed him looking and waggled her eyebrows. “Like what you see?”

For a single moment, neither of them dared to breathe, and then they both burst out into laughter. She sat back up, leaning her head to rest on his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Without hesitation, he put his arm around her, hoping that he seemed just as casual.

“I really did mean what I said in my first letter,” Anna said, a touch of shyness in her voice. “I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me.”

“It was nothing, really,” he began, but already she was shaking her head.

“I mean it. For all the stuff you did for me since I came up here. And– and for playing with me when we were little. It still feels so crazy that it was you I’d been wondering about for all those years, and I didn’t even realize it at first.”

He swallowed hard. “Well– you’re welcome. What are friends for, huh?”

She nodded, and he squeezed her closer for a moment, wishing he had words to tell her that he wanted to thank her, too, for making him laugh more than he ever had, for making him see the world with new eyes, for reminding him that there was more to life than making it through one day after another. He glanced down in time to catch her yawning. “Ready to go back?” he asked gently.

“No. But maybe we should. I think napping on this rock would be a recipe for a sore neck.”

He laughed and jumped down from the rock, landing with ease. With a sudden gleam in her eye, Anna scooted forward. “Catch me!” she called, already pushing off from the rock.

Kristoff did, eyes wide as she landed in his outstretched arms. She patted his chest and clambered down, already heading back towards the path. “Give me more of a warning next time, eh?” he called after her. “What if I’d dropped you?”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” she called back.

He knew it then, that it was hopeless; maybe it always had been.

He followed after her like he knew he would for the rest of his life if only she would let him.

They chattered the whole way back, about the trees and plants and animals that made this forest their home; about the silly things Olaf had said and done over the last week; about the sunflowers Anna had planted in his absence and how long it would take them to grow. At some point, the path grew a little steep, and Anna stumbled; Kristoff offered his arm, and she took it, not letting go even when it evened out again.

The sun was only barely beginning to set as they emerged back out onto the main path and turned for the cottage. To Kristoff’s surprise, there was a carriage out front, a large, dark green one, hitched to two white horses. Anna let go of him then, darting up the hill and calling, “Elsa! You came!”

He followed more slowly, trying to give the sisters a moment to catch up. For a moment he debated simply turning and slipping away, but he saw Anna gesturing at him as she explained something to her sister, and the queen turned to look at him with that cool, heavy-lidded look of appraisal. Anna disappeared inside for a moment; he was close enough to hear her tell her sister she was putting on the kettle for tea.

Kristoff cleared his throat, turning to the queen, but she cut him off.

“You and I have much to discuss, Mr. Bjorgman,” she said. “I’ve come with quite a few questions, but they can wait for tomorrow. Tonight I’ll spend with my sister.”

“I’ll take my leave, then.”

She caught his elbow before he could turn away. “A moment, though, Mr. Bjorgman,” she said, her tone amiable though her eyes flashed icy cold. “I appreciate your efforts in caring for my sister. But I fear you have forgotten one thing.”

“What would that be, your majesty?”

“Your place.”

With that, she turned away from him in a swirl of skirts, entering the cottage and closing the door firmly behind her.

#WHEW LADS if this has typos i'll fix them in the morning bc i should have been asleep an hour ago #ENJOY PEAK OBLIVIOUSLY IN LOVE KRISTOFF #my fics #litotwccwu #cw: chronic illness

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decembercamiecherries · 7 years

Text

Falling into Blue

Ao3 link

Word Count: 7025

Summary:

“Why do you even care?!”

Gon shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

And intrigued, he added silently. Killua was a mystery, one Gon was very interested in solving by the end of this short, one-hour flight.

Killua made a low tch-ing sound before turning away from Gon completely to look out the window again. The city had disappeared during the course of their conversation, giving way to rolling hills and ribbons of train tracks that snaked over grassy planes hundreds of feet below their blimp.

“I was just wondering how long it would take to fall to the ground from here,” Killua said and Gon’s eyebrows jumped up.

That…was not what he’d been expecting. At all.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KILLUA!!!!! You’re lucky I love you so much that I’d write an entire full length fic just to celebrate your birth <3 <3 <3

Shoutout to the amazing softkillua for being the best beta ever, enjoy your weekend off Kaz! :D

This is…….a steampunk au? Kinda? I’m not really sure what it is, to be honest. I’ll let you make your own conclusions about this universe ^^ Please enjoy~

This was Gon’s first time on a passenger blimp, but he was pretty sure first-class members of society weren’t supposed to be on the third-class level.

“Excuse me,” he said, slowly approaching the finely dressed teen staring out the window. “But, uh. Are you lost?”

The teen snorted. He didn’t spare a glance at Gon when he answered, “No. Are you?”

Gon frowned. “No.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Um. It’s just…”

“Just-” the teen finally looked up at Gon, icy blue eyes piercing straight through him and making Gon’s breath catch in his throat, “-what, exactly?”

Gon swallowed. His mouth was cotton dry. “It’s just, not many people from first-class members come down here. To the lower decks, I mean.”

The teen snorted again and turned back towards the window. “Well, I’m not like most first-class people. Got it?”

Gon nodded automatically, not even sure what he was nodding for but feeling the need to do it anyway. The teen didn’t speak again, instead choosing to keep his gaze trained on the glittering city below them. The blimp had only taken off half an hour ago, so they hadn’t traveled far enough yet to leave Yorknew behind.

“What are you looking at?” Gon couldn’t help but ask.

The teen shoved his hands into the pockets of his long, navy-blue jacket. “Nothing, really. I was just wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

The teen raised an eyebrow at him- silver, the same shade of fluffy locks peeking out from under his top hat- and said, “You ask a lot of questions for someone of lower-class. You know that?”

“Yes,” Gon answered and a small huff of laughter escaped the other’s pink lips.

“And you don’t find that, I dunno, improper?”

Gon tilted his head to the side. “Do you?” he asked curiously.

Blue eyes blinked. “Uh. No?”

“Okay. So if you don’t find it improper, and I don’t find it improper, then it shouldn’t be a problem. Right?”

“I-I guess. Yeah.”

“So, what are you wondering?”

The teen shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re weird, Mister-”

“Gon,” Gon chirped and stuck his hand out in front of the other’s face. “Gon Freecss. And you?”

The teen gingerly wrapped his fingers around Gon’s. His fingers were long and pale, like a pianists’, and his skin felt cool and smooth against Gon’s calloused palm.

“Killua,” the silver and blue teen said cautiously. “Killua Zoldyck, if you want the full name.”

Gon straightened, the back of his neck prickling. Zoldyck, that was- “Are you a member of the Zoldyck family?! As in, the famous inventors?”

“Yes.” Killua said shortly and withdrew his hand from Gon’s. “Inventions are the only thing my family’s good at. It’s our thing.” Gon didn’t miss the way his expression smoothed out, subtly shifting into something dull and blank.

Huh. Interesting.

Gon leaned forward into Killua’s personal space, until they were practically nose-to-nose. He held back a bark of laughter at the way Killua’s eyes crossed to keep him in view, how pale cheeks darkened and freckles popped out across a narrow nose and high cheekbones.

“And are all Zoldycks this pretty,” Gon asked playfully. “Or is that just a you thing?”

Killua’s jaw dropped. “What.”

Gon grinned. “I said, are all-”

He grunted at the hand shoved into his face and stumbled backwards.

“Shut up! I heard you the first time, you don’t need to repeat it!” Killua hissed, face scarlet.

“But you didn’t answer my question,” Gon said in a sing-song voice.

“And I wasn’t planning on answering, doofus.”

“Aw, why not?”

“B-Because!” Killua sputtered. Gon inwardly thought it was kind of cute how flustered Killua was at his light teasing- his brilliant blue eyes darting everywhere but Gon while his blush spread to the tips of his ears. “No one asks questions like that and expects an answer!”

“Well-” Gon took a bold step forward and Killua tensed, “-I’m not most people, Ki-llu- a.”

Killua looked furious at having his words turned against him. He spat out, “You’re a weirdo.”

Gon hummed in acknowledgement. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called that. “Maybe. But I’m not the first-class citizen in the lower class levels, am I?”

Killua’s eyes narrowed. “What’re you getting at, Gon?”

There was a sharp thrill in his stomach at the sound of his name rolling off that sharp tongue. He liked the way Killua said his name, how is lips formed to make the single syllable. It made him wonder if Killua felt the same.

“I just want to know what you were wondering earlier,” Gon said honestly. “That’s it, really.”

“Why do you even care?!”

Gon shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

And intrigued, he added silently. Killua was a mystery, one Gon was very interested in solving by the end of this short, one-hour flight.

Killua made a low tch -ing sound before turning away from Gon completely to look out the window again. The city had disappeared during the course of their conversation, giving way to rolling hills and ribbons of train tracks that snaked over grassy planes.

“I was just wondering how long it would take to fall to the ground from here,” Killua said and Gon’s eyebrows jumped up.

That…was not what he’d been expecting. At all.

He leaned closer to the glass and squinted at the tiny trees below them. They looked like blades of grass from this distance. He pursed his lips, considering. “Um. A long time? Maybe? I’m not sure, I’ve never jumped off an air balloon before.”

Bell-like laughter exploded from Killua. He clutched at his sides, leaning over his knees as he laughed and laughed and laughed. Gon simply blinked and watched him, equally surprised and confused.

“What’re you laughing for?”

“I just!” Killua wheezed, barely able to speak from lack of breath. “I never- oh, man- I never expected you to take me seriously!”

Gon frowned. “But you are being serious. Right?”

All traces of laughter vanished from Killua’s face. For a few moments the pair just stared at each other, crystal-blue clashing with caramel-gold.

Killua was the one to turn away first. A light pink dusted his cheeks once more as he admitted, “Yeah, I was serious. You had no reason to believe me, though.”

Gon leaned on the railing with a shrug. “You had no reason to lie.”

Killua’s brow puckered. He seemed at a loss for what to say, so Gon pressed, “Why do you need to know how far it is to the ground? Are you planning on jumping off the balcony?”

Gon had asked that half-joking, half not. He’d always wondered what it would be like to leap off something so high in the air, how it would feel to have the wind tearing at his hair as he soared towards the earth. It would be an incredible sight, that was for sure.

But he and Aunt Mito were poor enough as it was living in the city and selling antique artifacts to stray inventors; Gon didn’t have the funds to invest on many experiments. And besides, he didn’t have the time to make some sort of flying machine anyway. Not when he was focusing on finding-

“I am, actually.”

That caught Gon’s attention.

“What?!” he yelped and was met with a second hand shoved against his mouth.

“Shut,” Killua growled, blue gaze flashing dangerously. “Up . Jeez, do you ever stop to realize just how loud you are?!”

“No,” Gon answered and his voice was muffled against Killua’s palm.

Killua dropped his hand, exasperation written all over his face as he said, “Then start to! I don’t need the entire blimp hearing us!”

“Why not?” A thought occurred to him and Gon suddenly gasped as understanding flooded through him. “Oh! Is it a secret, Killua? Does no one know about-”

“No one knows!” Killua rushed to say. “So- please, for the love of god, be quiet. Please.”

Gon nodded vigorously. “I’ll be quiet! Tell me your plan first, though!”

“…you promise not to tell anyone?”

Gon held up his pinky. Killua looked at it expectantly and said, “Uh. What’s that supposed to-”

“It’s a pinky promise!” Gon explained. He grabbed Killua’s finger, ignoring the Zoldyck’s squawk of protest, and wrapped Killua’s pinky securely around his.

“I pinky promise to be quiet about your plan as long as you promise to tell me about it first!” Gon sang and Killua made a horrified squeaking sound. “Oh, and if you’re jumping off the blimp, you have to take me with you.”

Killua’s eyes bulged. “What?! No way, I’m not taking you anywhere!”

Gon pouted. “Why not?”

“Like I said earlier-” Killua snapped and yanked his hand away from Gon’s, “-you’re crazy.”

“But you’re the one planning to jump out of a moving blimp! You don’t even have anything prepared to slow the fall, do you?”

Killua scoffed, “Of course I do! I have stuff on me right now in fact!”

Gon slowly let his gaze roam up and down Killua’s figure, making sure to take in the lithe muscles under the fancy coat and tall boots. Killua was well built, especially for someone in first-class. He slowly looked up at Killua’s face and smirked slightly at the flushed expression he saw there.

“I’m sure you’re well stocked, Killua,” Gon said and Killua sucked in a sharp breath. “But I’m not seeing any life-saving invention on you at the moment. You’d need a parachute, for one thing.”

Dragging his nails down the side of his red face, Killua said through gritted teeth, “You’re an idiot.”

Gon blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly that! I’m a Zoldyck, Gon, I’ve got something much better than some average parachute.”

Gon’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t following Killua anymore. “What do you-”

“C’mon.” Killua snatched Gon’s wrist and tugged him down the hallway. Gon’s skin tingled where Killua’s fingers touched his skin and a giddy bubbliness spread through his body.

He took a chance and dared to twist his hand in Killua’s grasp, shifting slightly until their fingers interlocked.

Killua didn’t stop or show any reaction to their new position. But Gon spotted the red flush on the back of Killua’s elegant neck, and he had to force himself not to giggle out loud lest Killua heard and snapped at him again.

Killua really was cute. He was also very, very interesting. Gon had never seen or met a high classer with so much spunk and attitude.

Even more amazing was how easy it was for Gon to read Killua. Gon hadn’t even known him for an hour yet but he already knew how embarrassed Killua got at even the slightest bit of flirting. Killua had no problem calling Gon out on his abnormalities, but didn’t shun him away for them, either. He was a strange paradox between wits and sensitivity- and it made Gon all the more curious to see what other personalities were hidden within the mysterious teen.

And just how Killua expected to jump off a moving blimp without falling to an early death.

BOOM!

They had only made it halfway down the hallway when the floor underneath them shook, a resounding boom vibrating through the walls and air. Killua let go of Gon’s hand as they stumbled into the windows and the entire blimp jolted and shuddered. Within seconds it slowed to a stop hundreds upon hundreds of feet above ground.

“Wh-what was that?“ Gon asked, bewildered. Despite his lack of experience, he didn’t think blimps normally were supposed to make sounds like that and stop in the middle of their journeys.

“Dunno,” Killua looked up at the ceiling with a frown. “Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.“

Gon bit his bottom lip. If Killua was saying that, it must be true. Despite the disappointed twisting in his gut, Gon forced himself to ask, “Shouldn’t you be returning to your family, then? You should make sure they’re okay.”

“No,” Killua scoffed and Gon perked up. “They’ll be fine. Let’s keep going, I promised I would show you my plan, right?”

Gon’s chest swelled. He nodded, beaming at Killua despite the odd look it got him from the other, and they set off again.

They had only taken another ten steps when a door flew open in front of them.

Two burly looking men stepped into their path, each decorated with scars and deadly swords. Shining jewels hung off their necks and wrists but their coats and boots were worn through and tattered. It was a bizarre mix, but it was the strange way the men’s beady eyes lit up upon seeing Gon and Killua that made Gon’s hair stand on end.

These guys were trouble.

“Shit,” Killua muttered and Gon instinctively moved closer, until their arms pressed together.

“Who are they?” he whispered.

Killua wrinkled his nose. “Pirates.”

Gon’s stomach lurched. “What?! Really?!” He had heard of sky pirates attacking air ships before, but it was always cargo ships filled with goods they could steal and resell for profit. What could they possibly want with a passenger ship?

Killua gave him a scathing look. “Yes, really! Who else would they be?!“

One of the pirates took a menacing step forward. The jagged scar running diagonally across his face stretched and pulled as he sneered, “Come with us Zoldyck, and no one else has to get hurt.”

Gon stiffened as Killua retorted, “In your dreams, you useless lump of lard! Get the hell out of here and go back to your stink hole of a ship!”

“What do they want you for?” Gon asked, flabbergasted.

“My brain, my inventions,” Killua said to him with a scowl. “Obviously these morons don’t have too many bright ideas, so they need mine instead.”

The second pirate snarled, “Quit fooling around, Zoldyck! Do you want something to happen to your family?”

“Oh, by all means please do. My parents could use a good ass-whooping.”

With a thunderous roar, the first pirate charged at Killua. Gon and Killua leaped away from each other and the man stumbled straight through the opening they created. Gon glanced back at Killua just in time to see him flick his wrist in a strange gesture. Gon felt his jaw drop as metal claws sharp as knives slid out from under Killua’s long sleeves to fit perfectly over his elegant fingers.

Gon stared, unable to look away. The claw’s design was beautiful and intricate; it would’ve taken years to create something like it. Killua must be even more amazing than Gon already thought-

WOOSH!

Gon heard the sound of something flying through the air and ducked. The swing of the sword had been a clumsy one; the sharp piece of metal dug into the wood paneling just below the windows and the pirate howled in frustration. He yanked on the hilt of the sword and Gon scrambled upwards and back as fast as he could, slipping on a glove of his own making.

The glove had been something Kite had helped him design and bring to life. It helped give his attacks when fighting an enemy a little extra edge; depending on the fuel in the glove and the way Gon held his weapon of choice, the glove would ignite said weapon in a fiery halo without damaging it. Gon could also make tiny explosions or send the inferno soaring through the air. It all depended on which weapon Gon had at his disposal.

He probably shouldn’t use it while on a blimp in transit, though. Still, it was a good precaution. He would do anything to keep Killua out of the pirates’ grubby hands.

Gon could hear metal clashing against metal somewhere behind him. Killua was taking care of the the second pirate- so that meant it was Gon’s job to finish off the one in front of him. If he didn’t, the pirates would take Killua away and Gon would never see him again. Something unpleasant and heavy settled inside his stomach at the thought.

He didn’t like it, the idea of never seeing or talking to Killua ever again. It felt wrong.

Gon’s pirate finally pulled out his weapon from the wood. He wasted no time in attacking Gon and Gon moved quickly to avoid the first jab. He pulled out his own sword, Jajaken, just in time to block the second strike from hacking off his arm.

Fighting was simple for Gon: attack the person attacking you until they can’t any more. Kite was the one who had helped him turn his ambition and drive into some sort of skill. By the time Kite left to finish his exploration, Gon was a master. That had been two years ago.

Compared to Kite, this pirate was practically a joke. Gon met his blows with equal force left, right, above and left again. He slammed his elbow into the pirate’s jaw and shoved him away when he stumbled. Bit by bit Gon forced the pirate backwards, until he was pushed up against the safety exit door. The pirate’s eyes widened when he realized Gon’s plan. He fought even harder, shoving against Gon’s sword with all his might as Gon fought back.

Soon they were in a stalemate.

“Why are you protecting him?” the pirate hissed. Gon didn’t let up pressure on his sword, knowing the pirate was trying to distract him, to make him weak. “You know what his family does, don’t you?! You don’t owe this brat anything!”

Gon did know. Everyone in Yorknew knew the Zoldycks- the gifted and talented inventors who used their brilliance for underground work. It was even rumored that they had been selling a few of their inventions to neighboring countries during the Chimera Ant War. They were a feared and hated family by most, if not all. Not a single person had a good word for them.

But…

Gon lifted his head. In the distance he could just barely make out Killua’s spinning form. The other teen was a whirlwind of navy blue and flashing silver, his claws slashing through the air with a speed that was startling. His hat had fallen off to reveal shimmering white curls and his lips were split into a wild grin. He danced around his opponent with ease, even laughing and teasing the other to throw him into a fit of rage.

Gon swallowed thickly as his cheeks warmed. Killua was beautiful, breathtaking. And whatever plan he’d devised before the pirates’ ambush, it surely didn’t involve him following his parents footsteps. Gon was sure of it. Killua had been planning to jump off the blimp and away from them, after all.

“Killua is different,” Gon told the pirate and the man sneered.

“He’s a tool,” the pirate spat out, flecks of saliva flying through the air, and Gon’s nostrils flared. “His inventions are sold to the highest buyer, not even his parents consider him to be anything less than a means for profit!”

“Shut up,” Gon growled lowly. He could feel the dark waves of fury coiling inside him, hot and boiling just under the surface.

“Why so you can have him all to yourself?! He’s coming with us, sunshine, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“Killua is not going anywhere with you. You just want to use him and that’s wrong. Killua should be free to make his own decisions.”

“Oh, I see, you want him to yourself is that it? I can understand-” the pirate’s gaze drifted over to Killua and a new,hungry light entered his eyes, the kind that made Gon’s skin crawl, “-he is rather pretty. I’m sure you would just love to see him trapped underneath you, and begging for your di-”

Gon saw red. Not a second later, the safety exit door was swinging open wide. The pirate toppled backwards with a blood-curdling scream-

CLANG!

Gon jerked at the definitive noise behind him. He didn’t have the time to twist around before Killua was at his side, breathless and silver hair tousled.

“Woah!” Killua peered over the railing, face alight. “Did you really just throw him over?!“

Gon nodded wordlessly. Killua let out an impressed whistle.

“Wow, you got more guts than I gave you credit for, Gon! I mean, I get they were fighting us and everything, but to throw one of them overboard-”

“He was saying bad stuff about you,” Gon said stiffly. He had to focus to keep his voice from trembling with race.

To Gon’s shock, Killua just rolled his eyes. “That’s nothing new, they all do that. C'mon, lets-”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means,” Killua said as he glanced up and down the hallway. “That I’m a Zoldyck and the heir and technically still a minor, so a good number of imbeciles think they can try to kidnap me and use me for their own personal fantasies- whether that be for my inventions or their own pleasure, it doesn’t matter which. You wouldn’t believe the number of times people have tried to pick me off the street.”

“Killua, that’s…” Gon didn’t even know what to say. How could Killua talk so casually about stuff like that?! “That’s really, really bad! People can’t do stuff like that and get away with it-”

“Again, it’s part of the Zoldyck name. Okay? Don’t sweat it. We did fine getting rid of those guys, right?”

“Right…”

“Right, so relax. Let’s go-”

“Killua.”

Gon caught Killua’s hand, tan fingers wrapping around elegant pianist ones and stopping Killua from walking away. Killua blinked in surprise. He looked down at their hands and then back at Gon with confusion.

“What? Why are you looking at me all weird like that? Though to be fair, your face was pretty weird already.”

Gon puffed out his cheeks, distracted despite himself. “Killua, I’m trying to be serious!”

“So spit it out already, jeez! The longer we stand here the more pirates are gonna find us.”

Gon’s blood ran cold. “There are more?”

“Of course! You’d need a ton of men to stop a blimp of this size!”

“And they’re all after you?!”

“Yes, Gon! What else would they be attacking a passenger ship for?!”

Gon tightened his grasp on Killua’s hand. “I…I don’t like it, that other people think that way about you. Killua, you get how wrong that is, right? You’re not a prize to be won or some object for other people to use as they like.”

For a moment Killua just stared at him, his brilliant blue eyes blown open wide. Gon’s heart fluttered as he noticed the slight blush growing on the Zoldyck’s cheeks.

Then Killua ducked his head, hiding his expression from Gon’s view. “Yeah yeah,” he muttered and his fingers curled around Gon’s. “I get it. No need to get all sappy on me.”

“Do you really, though?” Gon asked to make sure.

“Yes. Seriously, don’t worry. I can handle myself. It doesn’t even matter anyway; I’ve been my family’s tool for as long as I can remember. They’d never let some pirate steal me away when they can use my brains for themselves.”

A jolt of burning anger stabbed through Gon. What. Killua’s parents had-

Creak.

They both froze. Gon’s heartbeat pounded in his ears and Killua’s fingers gripped Gon’s until it was borderline painful.

Gon would never think of letting go, though.

“Pirates?” Gon whispered and Killua looked at him sharply. He jerked his head, silver bangs flopping into his eyes, and Gon followed without complaint as Killua led down the hall in a sprint. Killua’s footsteps were silent on the carpet and Gon tried his best to mimic him.

Killua came up short next to a storage door. He flicked out a finger- now transformed into a claw he’d used to fight the pirate- and knelt to pick at the lock. Within seconds Gon heard a click and then Killua was yanking Gon through the open doorway. He shut the door as soon as Gon’s boots crossed the threshold and they were suddenly plunged into darkness.

The abrupt lack of light startled Gon and he gasped quietly. He tried to move, to somehow get an understanding of his surroundings, and instantly tripped over something. He heard Killua’s hiss of pain before he felt cool hands grabbing at his shoulders and elbows, clutching his sleeves as Gon started to fall-

The pair landed on the floor in a heap of flailing limbs. Gon’s nose collided hard into something solid but soft, his legs tangled up in some kind of cloth that had been tossed carelessly onto the closest ground. His palms stung smartly from where they slammed into the floor and the taste of iron on his tongue left him grimacing.

“Ki-” he started but the ground under him rolled and boney knuckles punched him in his ribs.

“Shut up!” Killua hissed as Gon cried out. “I’m serious, Gon, shut up!”

The ground beneath Gon’s chest heaved in time with Killua’s pants. It took Gon a moment to wonder why but then realization crashed over him like a tidal wave.

The ground wasn’t the ground at all; it was a lithe teen with silky locks of hair and eyes so piercing Gon could feel them digging into his face even in the pitch blackness of the closet they were currently trapped in.

Gon had landed right on top of Killua.

Heat rushed to his face and abruptly Gon’s cheeks were burning. He lifted his head and his nose brushed Killua’s smooth skin- his jaw, Gon’s mind helpfully supplied- while his knees pressed to either side of Killua’s hips. Gon’s whole body was warm and tingling and his head swam. He felt like he had a fever.

Gon opened his mouth to apologize for crashing on top of Killua in such an inappropriate position- what if he hadhurt Killua-

A familiar hand slapped over his mouth before he could get out a single word.

“Shh!” Killua hissed. “Don’t say anything, or they’ll hear you!”

Gon blinked, then froze. He didn’t dare to move or even breathe after that because just outside of their door in the hallway- there, quiet and in the distance but growing steadily louder- was the sound of thunderous footsteps. Gon knew without being told that the people in the hallway would pass by their hiding spot in mere seconds.

Sweat started to build on Gon’s forehead. Killua’s fingers curled and his nails dug into Gon’s chin.

“Wh-what the hell happened here?!” came an unfamiliar sputter. The sound was muffled by the door shielding them, but it was still too loud and too close for Gon’s liking.

“A fight, clearly,” someone else said impassionately. The second man’s voice was cool and calm, completely unlike the first person and just as alien to Gon.

But not to Killua, apparently. The instant the second man spoke, Killua’s body stiffened under Gon’s, becoming as still and silent as a statue. Even his breathing stopped. Gon had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from asking Killua what was wrong.

It was like Killua had said; he couldn’t talk right now. Not unless he was willing to risk giving Killua up to these strangers. And he wasn’t any more willing to do that now than he had with the pirates just minutes earlier.

“I- yes, yes, of course, sir!” That was the first man again. “But no one in the third class would have the level of skill to defeat a pirate-”

“Two.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“There were two pirates. The emergency door over there is unlocked and there are markings along the wall.” A muffled sigh. Gon pictured furrowed brows, fingers grasping the bridge of a nose. “I don’t understand how you are supposed to help me find Master Killua if you are so incompetent that you cannot even tell there were two fights instead of one-”

“Mister Gotoh, sir, I will help you find your master! I promise! Let’s hurry, he can’t have gotten far after fighting one- uh, I mean two pirates. I’m sure we’ll find him soon!”

Footsteps were heard again, this time fainter, farther, and the last thing Gon heard was the second man’s thinly veiled warning, “It would be best for your career for that to be true..”

He and Killua stayed completely still and silent until the two voices faded away entirely. And only a few tense moments after that did Killua let out a shuddering sigh, his body coming to life under Gon’s now that the threat was gone.

“Thank god they didn’t find us,” Killua half whispered, half groaned. His hand dropped away from Gon’s mouth and Gon’s heart dropped, feeling weirdly disappointed at the action.

Gon licked his chapped lips. He could still feel the ghost of Killua’s touch on them when he asked haltingly, “Did- did you know them?”

Killua huffed. At their closeness, Gon could smell the Zoldyck’s faint cologne wafting off his tailored jacket, the mintiness of his breath.

“Unfortunately, yeah. The guy that called me ‘Master Killua’ is my family’s butler.”

“You have a butler?!” Gon shouldn’t have been surprised by that. Butlers are the highest form of luxury, of course Killua’s family had a-

“We have several, actually,” Killua said and Gon’s jaw dropped. “Gotoh’s just the one my old man charged with keeping an eye on me.”

“Won’t he get in trouble then? For you running away and everything?”

Gon grunted as Killua jerked- a shrug. “Nah. Gotoh’s been with us for ages. I think my grandpa hired him or something. There’s no way he’d get in any serious trouble with me vanishing for the millionth time. Even if this time did involve a batch of weak-ass pirates.”

Gon’s head spun. Wow. No wonder Killua had been able to use his genius to make inventions! The resources his family had were probably amazing…

“Uh, Gon?”

Killua moved slightly and Gon was suddenly hyper-aware the incredibly lean and muscular body pressed snugly against his.

Gon’s mouth went dry. His hand curled into a fist and he ignored the light fluttering of his heartbeat when he breathed out, “Yeah?”

Gon was near enough to Killua’s face to feel the warmth of a blush radiating off his skin. “C-Can you get off now? You’re too heavy. And big. You’re crushing me.”

Gon allowed himself a small smirk; he could work with that. “What, you can’t handle me?”

A pause as Killua processed just what Gon had said. And then-

WHACK!

“AH!” Gon slapped his hand over his head. “Ow- Killua! Why did you-”

“Don’t be so full of yourself, idiot!” Killua bristled and Gon nearly laughed despite the tingling pain on his skull. He could see it in his mind- Killua’s silver hair disheveled and thrown into disarray, ivory cheeks aflame with a venomous glare to match.

He leaned forward in the general direction of Killua’s voice, and said suggestively, “Does that mean you’re saying you can handle-”

Gon squawked as he was forcibly tossed off Killua with a shove of two hands and a swift kick to his hip. Something heavy dropped onto his chest and then two elegant fingers were pinching his cheeks with enough force for it to sting.

“You-” Killua hissed venomously, increasing the pressure and stretching Gon’s face out like it was made of elastic, “-don’t know when to quit, do you?!”

Gon just laughed at that, unable to form a proper response with the way Killua was pulling out his lips. It should’ve been annoying to have someone play with his face like this. But with Killua, it didn’t matter. Gon actually liked the feel of Killua’s hands on his skin, the reassuring weight of the other teen’s body on his waist-

Killua scoffed and abruptly disappeared.

Gon only had a moment to register the sudden loss of Killua’s body heat when the closet door was thrown open. Harsh, blinding light fell into his eyes and he twisted away with a cry.

“AH-”

“It’s only sunlight, don’t be a baby.” Killua grabbed Gon’s bicep and yanked him off the ground. He forcibly tugged Gon back down the hallway towards the balcony door, the very place they’d been trying to reach before everything had gone to hell.

“Do-” Gon asked breathlessly, “-do you think there’ll be more pirates out there?”

Killua didn’t even bother looking back at him. “Who cares? If there is, we’ll just defeat them like last time. Right?”

Gon’s chest swelled. His heart was filling and overflowing with warmth, a bursting kind of joy Gon had never experienced before. It felt like he’d just swallowed a mouthful of bubbling champagne and everything was golden and bright and good.

Killua made him happy, he realized and corners of his mouth curved upwards at the thought. He’d smiled more in the past twenty minutes with this starlight teen then he had in years. He hadn’t had this much fun in years. The horrid memory of Kite’s death had faded into the background and Killua- making him flush, seeing his eyes light up, the soft texture of his long fingers-

Killua had taken front and center in Gon’s mind.

Gon’s heart lurched, then sped up to twice its normal speed. Just like earlier, Gon carefully twisted his wrist a little in Killua’s grasp. Killua’s back straightened and there was the tiniest bit of reluctance in the way he released Gon’s arm.

But Gon didn’t let him go far. He was quick to grab Killua’s hand before he fully pulled away. He interlocked their fingers once more and held on tight.

For a few seconds, Killua didn’t react at all. He kept on walking briskly down the carpeted hallway, head straight ahead. And then Gon noticed the dark scarlet tinge to Killua’s ears, the slight squeeze of Killua’s fingers against his own.

Gon’s heart soared. His grin grew so much his face hurt but he knew he couldn’t stop smiling even if he wanted to.

He also knew this: Killua was interesting and witty and smart. He was brilliant, a graceful fighter, and one of the most amazing and incredible people Gon had ever met. Meeting Killua was a gift and Gon wasn’t about to let that gift go to waste.

How ever Killua left this blimp, be it on Zevil Island or flying through the air or crashing to earth-

Gon wanted to follow.

Killua pushed open the door leading to the balcony. Gon winced at the sudden brightness but Killua was pulling him towards the railing without giving him the chance to recover. When they reached the edge of the balcony, Killua let go of Gon and hung over the edge.

He’ssearching for the pirates, Gon realized. He should probably be helping him, but all Gon could focus on was how empty and cold his hand felt without Killua’s hand wrapped around his.

“Okay, we’re clear. Hold this,” Killua ordered, shrugging off his jacket and shoving it into Gon’s arms. Gon’s stomach lurched at the view that greeted him; a vest wrapping snugly around Killua’s slim torso, the elegant line of his long neck. Even Killua’s white curls shone with a new light, making them glow silver in the sun’s rays.

Gon’s pulse started to race. Wow. Killua was…beautiful.

He opened his mouth to tell Killua just that when Killua suddenly pulled on a strap around his belt.

Metallic wings shot out from Killua’s back with a SNAP and Gon jumped backwards, nearly tripping in his shock. Killua’s clothes tumbled out of his numb fingers as he gaped wordlessly at the incredible sight before him.

Killua was…he had…

“See?” Killua said proudly. He adjusted a few more straps and the wings raised to stand straight above his head, each individual blade’s imprinted design standing out under the sun’s beams. “You don’t need a parachute if you got these!”

He looked at Gon expectantly, then smirked when Gon only continued to stare. “What, got nothing to say?” Killua teased. His blue eyes glowed with a mix of pride and joy. “Did I really amaze you that much, Gon?”

Gon shut his mouth and swallowed thickly. “Killua, you…you’re a genius!”

“I knew that already, stupid,” Killua said, snorting. But the swell in his chest told Gon that he was secretly happy at the praise.

“But you really, really are! It’s so beautiful and wonderful and, and so awesome, Killua! You’re awesome!”

“And you like to say that a lot,” Killua retorted, grinning through the blush on his cheeks.

Gon beamed. He asked eagerly, “Have you tested it out?”

“‘Course I have! It works perfectly fine.”

“So, why don’t you bring it to the Invention Convention that’s going on at Greed Island? That’s where you’re headed, right? That’s the only stop this blimp is making.”

Killua made a non-committal sound. “That’s where my family is going. They want to show this invention of mine off and parade me around as the future heir to the Zoldyck name. Me, though…”

Killua’s voice trailed off and his words from earlier echo in Gon’s mind: I was wondering how long it would take to fall to the ground from here.

“You’re going to leave,” Gon said, the pieces of Killua’s story falling neatly into place. “You’re going to use your invention to fly to the ground and run away.”

“Exactly!” Killua said cheerfully. He sounded way too happy for someone about to soar hundreds of miles through the air. “I’ll land someplace safely below and escape my family’s clutches once and for all! They’ll never find me ever again. I’ll be free.”

Then Killua turned to look at Gon and Gon shivered under the intensity of that blue-eyed gaze.

“Are you sure you want to come with me, now?”

Gon blinked. “Wha-”

“Earlier you said you wanted to jump off the blimp with me,” Killua said impatiently.

Gon scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I thought you didn’t want me to, though?”

Killua rolled his eyes to the back of his head. “Obviously I reconsidered, Gon. Do you want to come, or what? I won’t offer another chance. I’m leaving right now and I’m never coming back.”

Gon stared at Killua, then at the ground below them, then back to Killua. His heart was thumping heavily in his chest and blood roared in his ears. Even his palms were sweaty and he curled them into fists to keep them from shaking.

He’d saved up for over a year to pay for this ticket to Greed Island, all in the hopes of discovering some clue to finding Ging at the Convention. He knew when he booked this flight that he would probably never get another golden opportunity to locating his father again; Invention Conventions only occurred every 10 years, after all. And only the most prestigious inventors were invited. Even if he did manage to get money to buy another ticket, he might not be given an invitation.

He had one chance. One choice. One future.

And looking at Killua’s extended hand, the faint smile gracing his lips and the tiny sliver of hope shining in those blue eyes, Gon knew his decision.

He’d known where he was going since the moment he saw Killua standing there by the blimp window in the wrong clothes at the wrong level. Gon wanted to know more about Killua right away and when Gon wanted something, he was unusually stubborn in getting his way. Even more so than usual.

And here fate was, giving him the opportunity to get exactly what he wanted. All he had to do was take that final step.

“Of course I’m coming with you,” Gon said and Killua’s answering grin was stunning, brilliant in it’s radiance. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Just make sure you don’t drop me, okay?”

“I won’t,” Killua swore. “As long as you don’t let go of me, you’ll be fine. Think you can handle that?”

Gon’s heart fluttered as Killua moved closer. He fought down a shudder when Killua’s slim arm wrapped tightly around Gon’s waist; he was quickly learning how much he loved the feeling of Killua’s body aligned with his. Despite the differences in their build- Killua being lean and tall while Gon was broader, bulkier- they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. It made Gon want to cling onto Killua and never let go.

But Gon didn’t feel the need to bring this to Killua’s attention at the moment. He had plenty of time to seduce Killua, after all.

"I can handle anything,” Gon said with a playful wink and snaked an arm around Killua’s neck, gripping his vest with his other hand. “Especially you, Killua.”

The almost instantaneous blush that spread across Killua’s cheeks at his blunt statement made Gon break out into a fit of giggles and Killua made a face at him.

“Shut up or I really will drop you. Idiot.”

And then Killua leaped upwards, the balcony disappeared under Gon’s feet. His stomach dropped and he gasped. The view that stretched out below them was stunning with its emerald trees, golden fields of wheat and gleaming rivers. It was every bit as incredible as Gon had imagined.

Gravity took hold and they started to drop. Gon let out a loud whoop as they soared through the air, making sure to keep his grip tight on Killua through it all. Killua laughed in his ear in response- carefree and happy and wonderful- and it was the most beautiful sound Gon had ever heard.

Gon craned his head to look up at Killua and the air left his lungs at the stunning cerulean color of the other teen’s curved eyes. He felt a strange swooping sensation that had nothing to do with the fact that they had just jumped off a blimp hundreds of feet above ground. He was breathless, dazed, just because of the blue in Killua’s eyes.

Killua grinned at him. Gon’s heart felt like it was bursting at the sight. He smiled back and his chest filled with an unparalleled joy.

Together, they fell towards earth through the blue of endless skies.

#killugon #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #hunterxhunter #dc writes #steampunk au #au #happy birthday my son #Falling into Blue

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westerhos · 7 years

Text

So this is an Outlander AU I’ve been playing around with ever since I watched Arrival. It’s a bit, err, weird so I wanted to see if people would have an interest in it before I dive in completely!

PROLOGUE

October 26, 2018

Weird dreams since it all began. Everything—so vivid. Shadows exist there, and have discernable shapes. I can do more than sense a presence behind my back; I can see it in the shifting, shadowy bodies approaching. Light, all this light.

In my dreams, there is so much of the old life. Strawberries, as big as child’s fist, that I can smell and touch and taste. Little seeds on my mouth; crunchy. I think of sand as I bite, and then it’s there, it’s all there: a beach where the water isn’t frozen. Watergate Bay, I think, in late July. I stand on the shore, watching the waves roil, when a sweat bee lands on my arm.

I don’t swat at her, just let her suck the honey right out of me. (People cry over daffodils these days, but I say fuck the daffodils. I’d weep if I saw a bee.)

There are faces in my dreams, too. And though I canna remember them when I wake, I know there is a woman. Sometimes a kid appears—the woman’s? I have no idea—but she’s got spider legs and freckles like you wouldna believe. She laughs and she laughs, a paintbrush in her hand, and she is forever laughing, this girl, a beautiful, bird-like laugh and —

They do make me think, these dreams. All I do is wonder:

What are these dreams, and who are these people?

What will happen to all the kids and that little girl with the legs and the freckles and the laugh?

What will happen to me or to that strange woman?

What will happen to any of us?

It is so dark, Jenny. The whole world’s gone dark.

Your brother,

Jamie

CHAPTER ONE

April 16, 2018

Eleven days ago, human existence divided into two parts: Before Darkness and After Darkness. The latter, pessimists will argue, is ignorant and misleading. Who is to say, they ask, that there will be an After? Who is to say that this isn’t the state of our lives, our world, our humanity for the rest of eternity? Darkness, darkness, and more darkness.

It’s funny: the line between B.D. and A.D. is a meager span of eight and a half minutes. Or, if you want to be precise—to make the time sound shorter, like we couldn’t have seen it coming—a matter of 510 seconds. That is how long it took for our planet to realize it no longer had its mother, the Sun, to offer her steadfast care of yellow light and warm hugs. For those 510 seconds, us earthly billions scurried like ants, oblivious to the growing shadow of the palm that was slowly, slowly descending.

Smash—darkness.

No more sun.

B.D. becomes A.D.

I could tell, ye ken? I could tell something wasna right. Felt a chill right down my spine, I did.

This is a quote from a farmer in the Shetland Isles whose potato crop, in just a few short months, will die out. Travelers will sink their teeth into the greening skin, desperate for a taste of an uncanned vegetable. The solanine that poisons their insides in exchange for this token of the B.D. world.

This same farmer—the man who claims he felt the cold finger of imminent doom—will meet an ironic death: hypothermia, in his own bed. It will be 43 below on that day, a temperature even his warm-blooded wife, long in the ground, would have blanched it. There will be no one to mourn him, save the travelers eating the toxic potatoes, and even they will fall not long after.

His son lives in Stirling with his own wife, and he will not know of his father’s death when it happens, but deduce its occurrence from the prolonged silence. Silence, in the A.D., is none of the things it once could have been. Not anger or disinterest or dementia. Only death—the certainty that something wasna right.

But this is months away yet, and so the son, named Ian Murray, has no reason to assume the frozen corpse of his farmer father. As of this moment, it has been eleven days since the sun vanished, and outside Ian’s home is one of the hundreds of Sites. He flocks there, as everyone within the vicinity does, to see the strange phenomenon at the Killin stone circle. It floats over the rocks that no one—not even Ian, who lives just three sloping hills away—ever paid much mind in the B.D.

But now: crowds surrounding them. Children on parents’ shoulders, sound booms and camera crews, iPhones perpetually raised and Instagram filters debated.

“Mayfair or Ludwig? Which d’ye reckon will make it brighter? I need my cousin in Wisconsin to see this.”

“She’s already seen it, ye clotheid. This shit’s all over the news!”

And it is. Every broadcaster all over the world has come to Britain, Ireland, Brittany, England, Scotland, Bulgaria, Israel, and Poland, setting up camp by every ancient stone circle now glowing with—

“Light!” people cheer.

“Light!” people hiss.

“Light!” people cry. And they cry and cry and cry. Has anything ever been more beautiful than this, they ask? These perfect lights—the only natural light left in the entire A.D. world—dancing above the standing stones?

“Like fairies.”

“Bigger than fairies.”

Eventually, the parties of gawkers are broken up and ushered back to their homes. They trudge through the all-consuming dark, seeing almost nothing, but hearing the chatter of hope and fear buzzing around them. They cannot do anything except sit in front of their televisions or their radios, waiting for answers that will arrive when it is nearly too late. Their screens already black, the electricity out entirely. Everyone huddled close under flickering candlelight, still whispering, whispering:

“What are the Orbs?”

“Where do the Orbs come from?”

“Why are they here?”

And so on the evening the Orbs first appear, Ian and his wife return from Killin circle, trying (and failing) to make sense of these lights that have appeared in their recently lightless world. They sit at their rickety IKEA table, listening to their children in the living room—“Is this the end of the world?” one of their daughters asks—before they finally call the wife’s brother. No one in the Murray household has the foresight to understand that the bulbs above their heads, the sound of Doctor Who, and the cell phone they are dialing might eventually disappear.

“Jamie,” Ian says into the receiver, “Jamie?”

And Jamie Fraser, having been brutally awoken that morning, rubs his face and thinks, Aye, that’s me all right. The badge swinging from his neck proclaims himself so: Dr. James Fraser, Solar Astronomer.

“Jamie, what the Devil is going on?” This, from Jenny, Ian’s wife, who is convinced that the Orbs are a government hoax. Those damn bastards, she keeps muttering, those damn bastards.

Jamie is leaning against a tree, feeling the weight of his badge and, thus, his responsibility dragging him to the ground. He has been avoiding the glare of the floodlights, which are now shining so brightly on the uniformed men and his impossible task. He does not want to get used to them, this artificial light. Wants to forget them so that, when such forgetfulness becomes necessary, they are impossible for him to miss.

“I’ve no idea.”

“D’ye think it’s aliens or some sort?”

“Dinna be daft, Ian, this has the English written all over it. Those damn bastards.”

“We’ve only been here since this morning, Jenny. We willna ken any answers for a while.”

“Weel, where are ye?” Ian asks. “Are ye here? In Stirling?” And Jamie, against his will, looks at the Orb over the clefted rock. It dims, brightens, then dims again. No discernable pattern in its behavior, though Jamie feels as though it is calling to him. Close your eyes. Listen.

“Today’s been such a blur, I—I honestly canna remember. I woke up wi’ a man banging on my door in Glasgow, and then I was in a helicopter on my way here.”

“Christ,” Ian says.

Jamie looks off into the distance, at the small but blinking city, and imagines it several months from now. A ghost town, perhaps. A crater of an even deeper blackness where the signs of life he is watching now have dwindled into nothing. How long though? How long will it last without the sun?

“We’re stationed no’ far from Inverness, but I’m no’ sure what stone circle this is.”

“As long as it isna Stonehenge,” Jenny replies, bursting with a knowledge gleaned from the Killin crowd. “Two people dead there. A sacrificial ritual before the police arrived.”

Jamie almost laughs at the idiocy of it all, but then a stern voice takes his attention. It crackles from a walkie-talkie carried by one of the army bigwigs.

Craig Na Dun? Craig Na Dun, are you there? They’ve found two more Sites in the Orkneys. Over.

#outlander #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #arrival #WOOP-WOP IDK WHAT IM DOIN #also did you know there is literally no official title for a scientist of light wtf #or maybe my google sleuthing is bad #outlanderfic

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