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spenciegoob · 3 years

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Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me.

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing.

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it.

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around.

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 3 years

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Right Before Your Eyes (I’m Breaking)

Pairing: 12th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3,893

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, consumption of alcohol (not shown), drunk reader (suggested)

Summary: After a devastating event causes you and the Doctor to fight, you leave. However, after a night out with friends, you find yourself calling him.

Request: you opened requests again YAY, ok so i was wondering if you could write one where the reader leaves the doctor (12) bc they got into an argument ab their feelings and when he comes back to talk it out more calmly he finds her drunk and she confeses with n°1 from the prompt list #1 (general) Prompt: “I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.”

A/N: This was a bit of a difficult one to write and I’m still not sure how I feel about it, but it’s here now. Hope you enjoy!

The future was cold.

There was this depressed, angry, chill in the air, and it seemed to cement itself into everything it touched. It ran down your spine, curled itself into the small of your back, and made you shiver.

The cold was everywhere.

Or maybe it was just you.

You stared out over the ruined city, the fire billowing ash into an orange sky. It wasn't supposed to be orange, this planet had a similar biosphere to Earth, and it hadn't changed that dramatically since the 21st century.

The sky was supposed to be blue; like the ocean, like the Doctors eyes.

But no, it was orange. It had come from the smoke, settling under the clouds like a suffocating blanket, snuffing out the light.

Before it had happened, you had been in the village, teaching the children hopscotch - because they didn't have hopscotch, of all things, in this strange new planet. Then the fire had come, so fast, so suddenly, that the most you could do was just go.

The Doctor had taken your hand and told you to run.

So you did, because the Doctor would come back. He would save them. He would always save them.

There was a crack, echoing across the landscape, and it rocked into the ground. You watched as a wooden spire split into two, splintering across the city, then collapsed into the building below. A plume of ash flew into the air, spreading it's tendrils over the small town.

"You should have gone back," you said, and were surprised by the way your voice croaked. "You always go back."

The Doctor was standing by your side. He was silent, as if you weren’t worth the response.

You waited for a moment, then another.

He wouldn’t even look at you.

You grit your teeth. “You didn’t go back,” you voice was harsher, angrier, than you had expected. There was a brittle chill to it, one you took no effort to control.

The Doctor sighed. It was weary, like he was annoyed with you. “Y/N, if we’re just going to be stating the obvious here-“

“Why?” you said, but the way your voice lilted made it clear that it wasn’t an ask. “Why didn’t you go back?”

You turned to face him then, tearing your eyes away from the ruined town. He looked like a ghost, the firelight casting shadows across his face until he was almost blended into the scenery. You couldn’t tell where the Doctor begun, or where he ended. It was unnerving, eerie in a way you had never thought about before, not about the Doctor – not ever. The lines on his face were sharp and pronounced, etched into his skin like hey had always belonged there. It made him look more angular, more pronounced, and, for the first time, looking at him, it didn’t feel quite right.

For a painfully long moment, he didn’t speak. When he did though, it almost broke you further.

“There wasn’t any choice,” his words were steady, hollow, as if he had said that line a hundred times before.

You clenched your fists. It was the wrong answer.

“So we go back,” you said, thinking of that dazzling time machine right behind you. 20 minutes, maybe 30, that was all you would need. You looked back towards the town, and watched the foundations of the bakery begin to give. “We’ll go back and save them.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a demand.

The Doctor didn’t look at you. “We can’t.”

You let out an unbelieving breath. “Sorry?”

“We can’t,” he said, and he still wouldn’t look at you.

You threw a hand in the air, gesturing aimlessly, and vaguely noticed little moon shaped crescents indented in your palms. They were bloody – how hard had you been clenching your fists? “We can’t just let them die,” your voice was raised, but not high enough that it was a yell. You wanted to yell, you wanted to shake him, kick and scream, do anything to get the Doctor to do something, anything – but you held yourself back. That would be undignified. The Doctor wouldn’t respect that.

“They already died,” the Doctor yelled, as if snapping, like he could no longer tolerate you. He gestured out towards the burning town. “Look Y/N, they’re dead and you,” he turned to you now, finally looking at you. “Are not. It’s done.”

“But we can change that,” you countered. “We can fix it-”

The Doctor enunciated each word slowly and carefully, his voice shaking in repressed anger. “They are dead. It cannot be changed, it is a fixed point.”

“What’s stopping you?” You ran a hand through your hair.

“It’s a fixed point,” the Doctor repeated, and his voice was harsher, less forgiving. “It’s not possible, the laws of time dictate it. They died. Past tense. “

You let out a bitter scoff. “Since when have you ever followed the rules?

“This is more than just a rule,” and now, his voice was almost a yell. “Y/N, this is about the very fabric of time and space itself. We cannot control it, I cannot control it,” He turned to you suddenly, his eyes piercing into yours. “Listen to me very carefully. If you’re to travel with me, you will drop all of,” he gestured to you, like he couldn’t quite place what was wrong with you, so chose everything. “This, and accept it. Don’t be foolish enough to believe that you can change it.”

His face was dark, and it cast a striking silhouettes in the light of the roaring fire and it held a sort of anger you had never seen before. It cast a striking shadow in the light of the roaring fire, with black shadows and cold eyes. It was frightening.

You took a hesitant step backwards, your breathing sharp. “That’s terrible.”

The Doctor gave you a final, considering look. With a tone of finality, he said, almost petulantly. “Get used to it.”

He stalked into the TARDIS, and then, just as suddenly, slammed the door shut.

You stood there, gobsmacked, staring at the familiar blue door. Your shock quickly ebbed away, giving way to burning red fury, turning your vision white.

He was so cruel.

You swung the door open, grateful, for a moment, that it did open, and marched inside.

The TARDIS was dark, the lights were turned low, and those same shadows that had been cast over the Doctors face, had found themselves over every nook and cranny in the console room.

It made you pause, for a moment.

You took in a deep breath, calming yourself. One final question. “Why did you save me, then?

You couldn’t see the Doctor, the TARDIS was too dark, but you heard his voice. It was calm, which surprised you. “Y/N, that should be obvious.”

“Humour me.”

There was a knocking noise, like he was drumming his fingers against the console. “I have a duty of care.”

“You’ve got a duty of care over freaking leprechauns,” you countered, and then it occurred to you, that he didn’t. If he did, he would have saved the town, he would have tried. The Doctor had lied. You tried again. “Why did you save me?”

The tone of his voice surprised you, it wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t kind either. “You’re acting like you’re special.”

“No Doctor, you don’t get to deflect,” you took a hesitant step forward. “You don’t get to posture about time and the way of things, and then scoop me up and get me out.”

“Then put it together,” he seethed. “Surely you’re not this thick-”

“Don’t insult me,” you took in a heavy breath. “Why would you do it? All those people, but you saved me. You’re acting like everyone there – including me, were supposed to have died. What aren’t you telling me?”

“How to solve the Twin Prime Conjecture,” you still couldn’t see him, but his voice sounded unaffected. “Really Y/N-”

You groaned. “I’m not stupid, at least do me the dignity of talking to me honestly.”

“If you were brighter Y/N, you would know,” he said. “But evidently, you’re not. So we better get used to it.”

You took a step back.

Get used to it.

And then you thought of the town.

In most films and books, when the protagonist remembers awful, terrible events, they normally remember the traumatic stuff. The screams of innocent people, the aimless wanton destruction that would always follow, the heartbreak, the misery.

You didn’t think of any of that, and, somehow, that made it worse.

You remembered the children’s laughter, a young girls squeal of delight as she finished a round of hopscotch. You thought of the bakers warm pumpkin bread, and how the smell had wafted through the open door. You pictured the smiles from the village people, and that magnificent bell that had hung in the spire.

All gone, snuffed out in an instant.

You were furious – it was unfair. They didn’t deserve to die like that, especially not with the Doctor here. And it was like he didn’t care. For him, it was just another day.

Fine then. If he wouldn’t be honest with you, and if he couldn’t bring it in himself to actually care. You spoke softly, but your voice was firm. “Take me home.”

There was silence.

You took another careful step forward. “Doctor,” you said. “Take me home.”

He waved a hand in the air, and you realised he had been on the other side of the console, refusing to look at you. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

You snapped. Ridiculous?

They had died.

Hundreds of people.

And they had died.

“No,” you almost yelled. “I’m not. I want to go home.”

The Doctor disregarded you. “Go take some time to cool off-”

“I won’t do this Doctor,” your voice was firmer now, and you knew he couldn’t ignore it. “I can’t be around a man who is so callous about death that he – that you…” you stammered off. What could you say? That he would leave an entire village to ruin? That he would brush off their deaths so easily? That he wouldn’t just admit that he cared about you? You swallowed down the rest of the sentence. “Take me home.”

The Doctor lifted his head slowly, and locked his eyes onto yours. In the TARDIS light, he didn’t look so intimidating anymore. He almost looked… heartbroken. “Okay Y/N,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

You nodded.

And the Doctor pressed some buttons, pulled a lever, and you were off.

It had been a week since you had seen the Doctor, since you had told him to take you home, and your head was delightfully cloudy. There was a ridiculously loud band playing on the small, tiny stage that made up half the space of the pub.

You watched the guitarist, his deft fingers plucking along like it was his first time playing, and he kept needing to retrace his steps.

In other words, he was terrible.

You wanted to laugh about it with your friends, but they weren’t paying attention, and were instead in an intense conversation about relationships, and other messy, unrelatable, heartbreaking stuff.

You hated it.

You stared at your phone, the only thing your vision could focus on.

You thought about it for a moment, only one. You could call the Doctor. Would it really be so bad?

You shrugged to yourself. Why not.

You told your friends you were just ducking out for a moment, and stumbled out of the pub, your phone glued between your shoulder and your ear.

He picked up.

“Hi!” You yelled over sound of the band, then drew out the next word. “Hello.”

You couldn’t hear his reply.

“Wait,” you shouted, and you weren’t sure if you’d actually pronounced the ‘t’. “Gimme a moment.”

You staggered through the door, and found yourself in the cool night air. The world tilted to the side slightly, and you fell against the wall. You leaned against it, the cobblestones hard and familiar against your back. You drew out your words, talking in a sing song voice. It felt like the right thing to do. “Hello Doctor.”

“Y/N,” he said, and he sounded worried – wait, was that worry? You couldn’t tell, the sound of his voice rang in your mind, the familiar sounds and decibels making the hair on the back of your arms stand. “Are you okay?”

You laughed brightly – god you missed him. You could just picture it: his stern expression pinched with lines of concern as he spoke to you, like he cared about you. “That guitarist is terrible,” you said, then you frowned. “I feel bad for saying that actually.”

“What are you doing,” the Doctor said, and you heard the sound of familiar buttons being pushed in the console. “Are you okay?”

“Oh Doctor,” you drew out the word and ran a hand through your hair. You looked up, and suddenly the world was much bigger. You realised you had slid down the wall, and were now sitting on the pavement. “I’m out,” you slurred. “With friends,” you looked around you, trying to find them, before you remembered that they were inside. “I’m alone though.”

“Y/N-”

“Doctor,” you interrupted him, but you’d barely noticed. “I…” The streetlight was the only thing that provided any noise, buzzing away slightly. You wondered why it was making sound, maybe the bulb was running low – did streetlights do that? You didn’t know.

You could hear murmurs of the merry goers inside the pub, the sound of an off-tune electric guitar and ecstatic drums. It seemed so distant from you, as if it lived in a separate world.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you said, and it was soft, almost like a whisper.

There was silence on the other end, and then, just as soft, the Doctor spoke. “I’ll be there in ten seconds.

And then he hung up.

You glanced at the sky, and you counted. There weren’t many stars here, there was too much light pollution, and it clouded into your vision.

It took seven seconds, only seven, and the familiar whir and groan of the TARDIS engines pulled you off of the pavement. There she was, in all her glory; the TARDIS, standing at the end of the street.

You wobbled as you walked towards it, but you didn’t need to. The door swung open, bright light pouring out from it. There – right there, standing in the glow of the light, looking ethereal, was the Doctor – your Doctor.

You brightened immediately. “Hello stranger.”

He held his hand out towards you, and you reached out to take it. You knocked your foot against the threshold and toppled forward. Your body jerked forward and you let out a small yell. Suddenly the metallic floor was suddenly very, very close.

Warm arms circled around you and pulled you up. The ground was gone from your vision, replaced with familiar blue eyes. Your heart did a little summersault and you smiled.

The Doctor had caught you.

And he was still holding you.

You patted against his chest, you weren’t familiar with a Time Lord heartbeat, but his hearts were hammering away inside that chest of his. “Sorry about that,” you giggle. “Oh! Was that parkour?”

The Doctor’s mouth was set in a grim line, even as his eyes shone. “You’re drunk.”

He let you go, and you continued to make your way into the TARDIS. “I’ve been out.”

“So you’ve said,” you heard the door shut. “How come?”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Did you just ask me why I was out?”

He raised an eyebrow of his own, and his bushy eyebrows made the look more effective than yours. “Can’t I just go out? You’re not my keeper Doctor.”

“I didn’t think I would hear from you again, so, this is surprising.”

You flopped into one of the chairs, and you thought about the last time you had seen him, with cold angry eyes and dark shadows. He didn’t look that way now though, he looked kind, he looked tired. “Ooh,” you said, and you chewed your lip in thought. “Oh I was mad with you.”

He gave you a small, sad look. “I know.”

“You had been,” you mouthed over a couple of words, trying to find the right one. Your mouth felt heavy, and it was difficult to get anything out. “Not very nice,” you smiled triumphantly, glad to have made your point.

The look he gave you was almost broken, and your expression fell. You didn’t ever want him to look like that, you loved him, how could you stand that?

You paused, your mind whirring over that thought. Had you ever thought that before? That you loved him?

You slotted it into place, it felt right. It felt like the truth.

“It had been a terrible day,” he commented, and he seemed so pained by that. It was then, in the haze that was your mind, that you finally worked it out.

Of course he had cared about that town, about those people.

You’d been foolish to think otherwise.

So had you been cruel that day? You thought so, on some level. You hadn’t been very considerate to him, and were so blinded by your own anger, your own grief, you hadn’t thought to be considerate.

Then again, the Doctor had the communicative ability of a wooden pole, so your anger, at least, towards that, had been entirely justified.

You made grabby hands towards him. He came forward and crouched down in front of you. You leaned into his chest and mumbled a soft ‘I missed you,’ too quiet for him to hear.

"You know," you said, thinking about it, thinking about how he couldn’t even tell you that he cared for you. "I wouldn't have been so upset about it if you had just been more empa…" you tried to form the word with your mouth, but you couldn't fully remember how. You settled on a different word. “Kinder."

"I wasn't a very kind man that night," he admitted.

"No," you agreed. "But, I don't think that's completely a bad thing. No one's perfect," you found the words were easier to get out than they were earlier. Like your mouth was cooperating. "I think - just as long as you try to be better, as long as you try to be kind, maybe that's enough. I think that's all any of us can be."

The Doctor hummed, but he didn't say anything

You looked up. "Hey Doc?"

He looked down at you. "Yes, Y/N?"

"Can you try? Try being more kind?"

The Doctor traced his thumb up and down your cheekbone. It was the most physical affection you had ever gotten from him, and you leaned into it. "For you, I'd do anything."

You laughed brightly, your brain going to a ridiculous, heartbreaking thought. "Careful Doctor, you're two steps close to giving out a love confession there."

The Doctor pursed his lips, but he didn't say anything. His eyes had widened, as if you had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

And absurd, wild thought, crossed your mind. "Wait," you gasped, pulling back so you could see him clearly. Your head spun for a moment, not liking the sudden change "Do you love me?"

"Alright," the Doctor began to stand, helping you as well. "I think it's time for you to go to bed."

"No wait Doctor, don't do this whole 'deflect and never answer a question thing,' because if you love me like I love you-" you clamped your mouth shut.

You'd just confessed your feelings to the Doctor.

The Doctor had frozen, his body rigid beside you. "Tell me that when you’re sober."

You pulled yourself out of his grip, turning so you could face him properly. His eyes were wide, hurt, like they had been burned millions of times before. Despite that though, they seemed... almost hopeful.

You spurred on. "Of course I am," you said. "But that doesn't make what I'm saying any less true. What do they call it? Liquid courage?"

He gave you a look. "I would have gone with slow acting poison."

"Well I do you insufferable man, which is why I was so mad. I love you, and I'd felt betrayed. How was I supposed to react?”

He held your face in one hand, and you leaned into him. “I’m…” he struggled to get out the word. “I’m sorry, and we’ll speak about this properly, when your head is clearer-”

But it was clear right now, it was like he’d thrown you a line, pulled you to shore. It was clear enough for this.

“Don’t do that,” you said. “Talk to me.”

He sighed, looking more pained than you had seen him before. “You were right, that day. It was awful, I didn’t know that fire was coming, and by the time I realised, I could only get you.”

“So why did you make sure you saved me then?” You asked, then amended. “Beyond that whole duty of care stuff?”

“It was a choice,” he said. “Them, or you.”

The words settled into you. You didn’t have the ability to properly process it, but you knew it was big. “Oh,” you breathed.”

“And I would choose you,” he said. “Every time. Over anyone, over anything.”

“That’s dangerous,” you said it quietly, but a thrill went through you.

“I never wanted you to feel the weight of it all. Sometimes I can’t save everyone, sometimes I have to make difficult choices, and, to see you live with that…” he trailed off that thought. “I’m sorry. But I always cared, always.”

You nodded, and, despite yourself you let out a yawn. “Oh,” you said. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

He gave you a rueful smile. “We’ll have to have this conversation again, won’t we.”

You nodded. “Oh yeah, most definitely,” and you rocked forward, even though nearly all your weight was already resting on him. He held you steady, and his hand still hadn’t left your face.

You pulled away so you could hug him, burying your head into his chest. He held you back, but his arms were awkward, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “It was awful,” you said.

“I know.”

“Please just be honest with me, next time,” you tried to match your breathing with his hearts, but they were beating too fast. “I couldn’t bear to go through that again.”

“You’re staying?”

You pulled back, and saw that his eyes were glassy. You swallowed. “If you’ll have me.”

There was a moment where he just looked at you, as if memorising every part of you.

“Of course.”

You jolted forward again, your legs becoming unsteady. The moment was broken.

You were still in the Doctors arms, and you let out an embarrassed laugh. “I think it’s bed time,” you said.

“I agree, let’s get you there.”

You took his arm, and he began to carefully lead you up the steps. You rested your head on his shoulder, and mumbled into his jacked. “Love you.”

He gave you a small, warm smile. "We'll talk about this in the morning, but, for what it's worth; and I you, Y/N."

#the doctor x reader #twelfth doctor imagine #12th doctor x reader #twelfth doctor x reader #12th doctor #Doctor Who #DW #Elle: Speaks #opening Elle's vault #vault fic

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch6: That Makes Two Of Us

Summary: Things heat up between Katie and Steve as their relationship progresses, but when Tony caches them out, he’s on the war path.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad Language, Smut (dry humping, oral- male receiving) NSFW, 18+. and a VERY angry Big Brother...

A/N: One of my favourite chapters. Thank you to @angrybirdcr , its a pleasure to have your edits for the repostings!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 5

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

End of May 2013

“For the one hundredth time, no, Tony I am NOT coming.” Katie groaned as she pulled up outside Steve’s apartment building “I have work to do.” “But the damned meeting is in DC!” Tony protested “Surely you can manage to spare an hour! You’re part of the board!” “You know full well that’s only to make sure that Starks maintain a controlling stake!”

“So basically what you’re saying is that you don’t care about our business.” Her brother’s voice took on a petulant tone. He could be such a child at times. “Stop being a dick.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose “Look, I’m busy with work, I can’t just drop everything you know just because you-” “Have you got a man on the go?” Tony asked suddenly, cutting her off “Because I’ve not seen you for weeks. Do I need to prep a Shovel Talk?” “Goodbye, Tony.” Katie cancelled the call before she stepped out of the car and headed to the lobby door.

In his apartment Steve was reading a proposal and groaning to himself. They wanted him to record videos to talk to high school kids about puberty, keeping fit, being in detention, not doing drugs…and he had agreed, just to shut them up mainly, but he was already regretting his decision. With a final wrinkle of his nose, he threw down the document he was looking at and was about to make himself a coffee when the buzzer to his apartment went off.

“Hey, Handsome.” Katie’s voice rang over the intercom and he smiled just as he always did when she called him that, a habit she’d slipped easily into over the last three weeks of dating, which had consisted of early morning breakfast meets on their way into work, stolen lunchtimes away from the office where they could hold hands with a slice or a burrito as they walked around the Mal, three more intimate evening meals at quiet restaurants and one trip to the cinema. That had been Steve’s favourite date so far, not just because it had been his first time in a movie theatre since the 40s, but more so that he he’d enjoyed the feel of her as she leaned into him when he’d put his arm round the back of her chair, sharing popcorn, stolen quick kisses on the lips in the dark as they sat on the back row in between their bursts of hysterical laughter at the film. They had gone to see the third and final instalment of the Hangover trilogy, which Katie had been ridiculously excited about. She loved those films and Steve had to admit he agreed they were pretty good, as all three had made him laugh in places until tears rolled down his face. Movie and TV nights in their apartments had also turned into something special too as they snuggled down together, sharing snacks and personal space along with deep kisses that left him wanting a lot more… “Hey Sweetheart, come on up.”

He waited for her by the door and felt his breath catch as she emerged onto the landing from the stairs. She was wearing a blue and white LA Dodgers T-shirt, which was tight and finished just above her hips and clung to her chest flashing a strip of her toned stomach, tight grey jeans which fit snug to her ass and black baseball boots. Steve had seen her in all sorts of clothing items- jeans, tops, dresses…but never like this.

And fuck, she looked hot.

“Hi!” She greeted him with a huge smile and a gentle kiss, standing on her toes to meet his lips, before she stepped into the apartment and headed into the living room. Spotting the file on the coffee table she picked it up.

“What’s this?” She asked, opening it.

“A proposal from Fury. I’m going to be doing some videos, for high school kids..phys-ed classes that kinda thing.” “Videos?” “Yeah, apparently they get Celebrities to do them normally but they thought they’d use me this time.” Steve shrugged. “You’re not some kind of performing monkey they can trot out when they want.” She winkled her nose in distaste as she remembered those awful USO videos as she thumbed through the file.

Steve smiled at her indignation on his behalf. “It’s only a couple of videos.” he assured her.

“Hmm.” she dropped the file with disdain onto the table “Anyway, enough about that. You busy?” “When it comes to spending time with you? Never.”

“Oh that was smooth, Captain Badass!” She smirked and he gave her a quick shrug and a smile.

“What you got in mind?”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat she pulled out what looked like two tickets from her back pocket and suddenly it became apparent why she was dressed as she was.

“Are we…no, you’re kidding?” Steve couldn’t help the childish grin which flickered across his face “Baseball?” *****

“Oh what?” Katie cried out, jumping to her feet as the umpire made an atrocious decision for what felt like the 100th time, turning to Steve in disgust. “Is this guy blind or just really fucking dumb?”

Steve let out a snort, leaning back in his seat with his hand gesturing to the field. “Blind, he has to be. No one can be that stupid. I mean he’s been calling bad ones all game.”

Katie angrily dropped to her chair and Steve gestured to the vendor for two more beers. He passed one to Katie who hesitated as she took it.

“I bought the car.” She said, looking at him.

“Sweetheart,” he leaned over, kissing her cheek, “ridiculously fast metabolism, remember? I can’t get drunk. I’ll drive home…”

He handed over his money, waved away the little bit of change he would have received before he turned back to his girl who was pouting at him.

“The last time you drove Rainey you didn’t respect her. You drove her through a fuck tonne of puddles.”

“Doll, it’s a…”

“Er, she.” Katie looked at him. “She is not an it…”

Steve rolled his eyes. She was ridiculously attached to her Range Rover. He had to admit, as far as cars went it was pretty damned nice both to be driven in and to drive. White with black wheels and windows, and every gadget in it known to man. Mind you, he expected nothing else from the Starks.

“Ok, she is a damned four by four…” He raised an eyebrow for her. “They’re supposed to go off roading, so what’s a few puddles?”

“Off roading?” Katie spluttered, her eyes wide. “No! You’re so not driving her ever again.”

“Fine I’ll drink both of these then.” He shrugged, moving to take the beer he’d handed her back, and she moved it out of his reach, glaring at him. The desire to drink and have fun won out over protecting her car from a haphazard Captain who was on the sly a bit of a speed demon and probably never actually completed any kind of driving lesson in his life, let alone a test. She dug into her pocket and handed over her keys.

“One scratch and you’re a dead man.” She narrowed her eyes playfully.

“I’ll take good care of her.” He said solemnly, putting the keys into his pocket.

As the game progressed, despite his protestations that the LA Dodgers just weren’t his team, he found himself rooting for them and he was getting more and more frustrated at the current batters method. The guy was swinging it around with more force than Thor wielded his hammer and it wasn’t working. But just as Steve was about to let out another cry of frustration, the bat suddenly connected with the ball, and it was a good hit. Both Steve and Katie got to their feet shouting for the players to speed up and go for home. When they made it the pair both let out a loud cheer, and Steve hugged Katie, grinning wildly. At that moment, stood there, surrounded by strangers but with the girl who made him feel so grounded, he had never felt so normal since coming out of the ice, and he loved it.

The rest of the innings passed far too fast, but at the end of the game, the Dodgers won, much to Katie’s delight. They joined the throng of people streaming out of the stadium hand in hand and Steve, still grinning like an idiot felt Katie tug on his hand.

“Shall we head for a drink?” She asked as he looked at her.

He nodded, tilting the peak of her cap back slightly and giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Sounds great.” And it was a great idea. Until they parked up, walked into the sports bar and spotted half of STRIKE in there round a table.

“Turn around.” Katie hissed with a groan and, just as they were about to do so, Rumlow yelled from the bar.

“Hey Cap, Nova…”

“Too late.” Steve muttered as Katie rolled her eyes and turned round.

“Fancy seeing you here!” Rumlow smiled and Katie shrugged.

“Yeah, small world, huh?”

“You want a beer, Cap?” Rumlow gestured to the bar and Steve nodded.

“Sure, thanks.”

“Stark, what do you…woah, what is this shit?” Rumlow pointed at her shirt and it didn’t escape Steve’s notice that the man’s gaze was lingering far too long on her boobs. He took a deep inhale, his fists clenching in his pockets as Katie let out a scoff.

“This shit just kicked the Nationals asses!” she responded, jabbing Rumlow in his chest.

“Whatever man!” Rumlow shook his head. “Fucking Dodgers…” They didn’t have much option then but to join the rest of the team. Rumlow took the opportunity to eyeball Katie at every given opportunity and it was really starting to piss Steve off. At one time Katie looked up and caught Steve simply glaring at Rumlow, and in an attempt to keep him calm she gently squeezed his knee under the table. Steve was glad when it was his round, giving him an excuse to leave the table, Evans following to give him a hand.

“Enjoy your date?” Thee ginger haired man looked at Steve with a smirk.

“What?” Steve replied, a little too quickly. “I saw you and Stark kissing.” Evans popped a shoulder. “Outside the stadium. Don’t worry, no one else did.” Steve let out a sigh. It wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong, but he knew that Tony didn’t know yet and the pair of them were simply enjoying the early stages of a new relationship on their own before the inevitable tornado of interest hit once they did go public. Glancing at Katie who was talking to Rollins and Rumlow at their table, he turned back to Evans and dropped his voice slightly.

“We’re not deliberately keeping it from everyone, it’s just early days, don’t want everyone sticking their noses in, get what I’m sayin’?” “Secret’s safe with me.” Evans nodded. “Although I suspect it won’t be a secret for much longer if Rumlow keeps eye fucking your girl.”

Steve let out a snort as he took his change from the bar tender. “He’s a pain in the ass.” “Yeah well do me a favour, Cap.” Evans chuckled, picking up three of the glasses “When you do eventually snap and beat on him, make sure I’m there. Been waiting for someone to smack the shit outta him for years.”

****

Later that evening the coffee table at Katie’s apartment sported a number of empty plates, which had previously contained several frozen pizzas, and a good quantity of empty beer bottles. Katie was happily snuggled under Steve’s arm, curled against him and he was enjoying the closeness and comfortable silence that had fallen over them as they watched another ‘Game of Thrones’ episode. Katie had gotten him hooked on the fantasy programme and promised not to watch any of the latest season until he had caught up on the last two. As the episode finished he felt her stir and he didn’t want her to move, thankfully she didn’t too far, simply shifting her head slightly.

“So I never asked if you enjoyed yourself” She asked, looking up at him.

“Doll, it was amazing. Thank you.” “We should go more often” She mused “I haven’t seen a game live in years but I really enjoyed it.”

“You know what I didn’t enjoy?” He looked down at her, the soft light from the lamp illuminating her pretty face, highlighting the freckles spattered across her nose. “Sitting in that bar with Rumlow watching him looking at you.”

“Aww were you jealous?” She teased, sitting up.

“Not at all.” He shook his head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he recalled what Evans had said at the bar “Just don’t appreciate him eye fucking my girl.”

She let out a large snort before she looked at him, as her brain registered what he had just said.

“Your girl?” Her tone was teasing but the look in her eyes told him she was anything but, in fact she looked almost nervous. “Is that what I am?”

Steve hesitated, realising that he’d never actually asked her that question before. Was three weeks too soon? He had no idea. To him it wasn’t, he’d been waiting to be able to call her his for months now, but was he outside of modern day dating etiquette?

He looked at her and took a deep breath, before he swallowed and spoke quietly, the nerves making his stomach flip slightly. “Well I’m kinda hoping you wannabe. I mean, if it’s not too soon.”

“It’s not too soon, it’s not too soon at all.” She whispered as she looked back at him, her features soft, eyes alive in the dim light of the lamp. “Stevie, I already am.”

And that was it, his lips crashed onto hers and he was kissing her like he’d been wanting to kiss her all day, his arm curling tighter round her, pulling her close. Katie took the initiative, every inch of her body was on fire for him, and she wrapped her arms round his neck and pulled him down as she fell slowly backwards, sinking into the couch. The movement came as a not-entirely unwelcome surprise to Steve and he didn’t resist. Automatically his hands crept to her hips, settling just under the hem of her top as she placed both hands on his face, the pads of her finger tips cupping his jaw. She broke away this time to breathe, head laying back on the arm of the couch and he dropped his head, pausing his lips inches from her neck.

“Can I kiss you here?” He whispered softly. .

“God, yes.” Katie sighed and he obliged, pressing his mouth to her neck. He gripped her hips again and they gave a little jerk of their own accord, pushing up against him and they she let out a soft moan at the feeling of his crotch bumping against hers. At the noise Steve pulled back to stare at her again, almost as if he was needing her permission to carry on. Katie wordlessly answered by tilting her hips up again, causing him to give a little grunt as she did so, before he took a deep breath and swallowed.

“Doll, I don’t want to rush you or do anything-”

“It’s okay Steve,” Her voice was low and slightly breathy as she looked at him, her eyes, locking onto his. She wanted this, more than she’d wanted anything before. She pushed her head upwards, lips pressing back to his and her hands slid under his t- shirt. His muscles twitched at her touch as the sensation of her gently dragging her nails across his stomach sent a spike of desire, like a red hot poker through his entire body. At that point, something snapped inside him and he let out a growl and Katie paused, hands still on his stomach.

“Did you just growl at me?” Her eyes flashed, dark, a smirk on her face. She was enjoying the effect she had on him, and right now so was he.

“Yeah.” he nodded, simply.

Her smirk grew wider as she grasped the bottom of his T-shirt. He held his arms up so she pull it over his head, and once he was free, he glanced down to see Katie looking at his chest.

She’d never seen him topless before and she was momentarily stunned. She let her hands wander, tracing the lines of the flowing muscles and Steve let out another groan wanting to feel her skin against his. He interrupted her hands exploration by gripping her top and looked back at her, ever questioning. As means of an answer she moved her arms and sat up slightly to allow him to yank it up and off, her hair falling around her shoulders, his lips catching hers as he gently slipped one strap of her bra down at a time placing a soft kiss on each of her shoulders. Her breasts spilled over the tops of the lace lined cups and his groin twitched, the crotch of his jeans now painfully tight.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered gently, and then he kissed her again. Her fingers gently took his hands and she guided them onto her, sliding them up her rib cage to her chest and he obliged, boy did he oblige. Gently at first, softly squeezing and kneading the soft flesh and white lace, before his hand slid into the cups, teasing her taught nipples with his thumbs, acting completely on instinct, listening and watching her as she groaned gently, arching her back, her reaction telling him he was doing something right as all the time his groin bumped against hers.

Katie could feel the fabric of her underwear sliding in her jeans with every thrust of his hips against hers, that’s how wet she was. Steve was rocking hard against her and she buried her fingers in his hair, pulling sharply, forcing his head back, almost violently. As she tugged he let out another low growl and when she let go he stared down at her to see her smirking as she watched him, his pupils blown so wide there was hardly any blue left.

The rhythm of his hips was growing more frantic and their kisses were growing more desperate. “More,” she moaned into his mouth, and he gave her what she wanted, moving his hips even faster, rubbing against her in ways that had her clutching at his back like her life depended on it. Steve had never felt anything like this in his life. It was so good, so right, in a way nothing had ever felt so right before. This was a first for him, rutting up against someone fully clothed. Making out, Bucky had called it, but none of Steve’s bedroom experiences had ever entailed anything like this, and God, his head was a whirl of lust, desire, and he didn’t give a fuck about anything else at that moment other than her as she lay underneath him.

He started to lose his rhythm and he let out another groan as the tell-tale tightening across his lower stomach warned him he was fast approaching his release. This was too soon, he needed to get her there first. Clenching his teeth he desperately fought back the high as he pushed his hips down hard, making her gasp and claw at his back.

“Sweetheart, I’m close.” He breathed. “You almost there? Tell me your close baby, please?”

He needn’t have worried, at his words it was all she could do to moan brokenly and nod and his mouth fell to that spot on her neck which seemed to drive her wild. She tipped her head back as he gently nipped beneath her ear with his teeth and a few more thrusts of his hips against hers and she was done, fingers wrapped around his hair as the lights exploded in front her eyes and she felt the coil in her stomach unravelling as she came hard underneath him, hips bucking upwards, almost violently. Her voice was broken as she gasped out “Stevie…”and it was the single most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his life. Her name for him, the name that no-one in this day and age called him other than her, tumbled from her lips and seeing and feeling her fall apart in his arms sent him over the edge right behind her in a pure surge of ecstasy. He fell forward, his arms shaking as he fought to keep his body up, not wanting to crush her under his weight. His head dropped forward, as he lowered himself ever so gently onto his elbows, his face pressing into the crook of her shoulder and she gently ran her fingers through his hair as they both breathed deeply as they waited to regain control of their bodies. Eventually both of them evened out and he raised his head to look at her, to find her smirking a little, her eyes twinkling with what looked like humour.

“What?” He managed to ask, his nose sliding against hers.

“I haven’t dry humped since I was about sixteen.” she said closing her eyes again with a smirk.

“Dry humped?” He snorted. “What-“

She laughed “Dry humping, making out, whatever. It’s been a while, Rogers.”

He felt himself chuckle again and she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, one of her hands running up and down his spine causing the muscles to gently twitch at her touch, neither of them in a hurry to move, but Steve’s arms were starting to hurt.

“You ok?” Katie looked at him, seeing the tension in his muscles and he nodded.

“Yeah, just, my arms.”

“Lay down.” Her hands moved to his biceps, gently trailing shapes on his skin.

“Doll, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m not made of glass, handsome. I promise you, it’ll be fine.”

Steve licked his lips and with a deep breath he lowered himself down gently, shifting and moving lower, pressing as little of himself to her as he could, despite the fact he could have happily smothered her to feel her body pressed against this. He closed his eyes and lay his head gently on her chest as she carded one hand through his hair, the other softly trailing down his neck and across his shoulders. Her touch was soothing, relaxing, loving even, and h felt himself beginning to doze off.

Katie was also growing sleepy, so she gently kissed his head and whispered a single word to him.

“Stay?”

It was a question to him, an invitation to stay with her that she was desperately hoping he’d take up.

He opened his eyes to blink lazily up at her. “Do you want me to?” he asked, his voice thick.

She nodded, “Let’s go to bed.”

He made to stand before he remembered his trouser predicament having just shot his load into them like a pubescent teenager and stilled, his cheeks flushing even more.

“I uh…I think I need to…”

“There’s some stuff of Tony’s in the spare room.” she said, looking at him cutting him off knowing exactly what the problem was because she was also in need of a clean-up “Should be a pair of sweats in there. Might be a bit short on you but…”

With another soft kiss, he pushed himself up off the couch before offering her his hand. She took it and he pulled her up, a little more forcefully than he had intended and she fell forwards, crashing into his chest.

“Steady on Soldier.” She grinned and he apologised, dropping a kiss to her forehead as his gaze once more dropped to her chest. With a certain glint in her eye she turned around, undid her bra and slipped it off before bending over in front of him, picking up his T-shirt from where she’d tossed it to the floor before heading over to the stairs.

Steve was hard again like it had never left.

After he had cleaned himself up and managed to calm himself down, he thrown on a pair of Tony’s sweatpants retrieved from the spare room and exited the main bathroom, heading to her room. She wasn’t asleep as he found out as he settled down in the bed next to her, and she moved to rest her head on his bare chest tangling her legs into his as his hand stroked her back, gently underneath his T’shirt, light fingers brushing her soft skin.

“This is mine…” He teased with a yawn as he tugged at the bottom of his shirt and she moved laying a soft kiss onto his lips.

“You can have it back tomorrow.” She said, laying her head back down on his chest. As her breathing grew even he felt himself start to drift off too, the warm feeling in his chest made him want to burst with happiness.

*****

When Steve woke the next morning it was peacefully. Katie had shifted positions through the night and now her back was to him pressed as close as she could get, he still had his arms around her, his face buried in her hair. She smelt so familiar and comfortable. As his sleepy brain reminded him of the previous night he smiled and felt a familiar twitch. He was hard, again, which wasn’t uncommon when waking up, but suddenly he felt her stir, and then he realised with horror that she was going to feel him poking her in the back.

It took Katie a few seconds to recall the night before, but when she felt a solid, warm wall of muscle pressed against her, a small hum of contentment rumbled in her throat as she pushed back further into him. They both lay there for a moment, silently, basking in the warmth and softness of each other before Katie turned over and looked up at him. Her face was devoid of any make up, not that she wore a lot anyway, but her freckles were more pronounced, clear skin was bright, cheeks flushed and her hair was tousled in waves around her shoulders. He reached out to tuck a long strand that had fallen over her cheek behind her ears, when she looked up at him, her eyes glinting.

He was about to wish her good morning, but before he could she kissed him, hard and fast, tongue tangling with his. And then she was straddling him, his head against the pillow, as her lips began to trail down his chest. By the time his sleep and lust addled brain had caught up with what was going on, she had reached her destination and had flipped the waist band of the sweats he was wearing down, taking his erection firmly in one hand, making him hiss slightly.

His size had taken Katie slightly by surprise, although she knew with retrospect it shouldn’t have. She looked up and locked eyes with him before she gave him one final smirk and took him in her mouth. Steve panicked for a second, this had never happened to him before, his hands flying to the bed sheets either side of his waist, but it wasn’t for long, as all worry flew out of his mind as she began to work him.

From the noises he was making Katie knew he was enjoying himself. Which was her aim. After a short while, she pulled off of him to suck at the tip and worked her hands over the rest of his length. When she glanced up at him, he had his head thrown back against the pillow, face contorted in utter pleasure. She continued to lick, suck, and when she pulled away slightly to suck at the sensitive tip, working the rest of his length with her hands he let out a loud groan and he looked at her. Her eyes locked onto his and he felt that tell-tale warmth rising in his groin and stomach.

“Katie, sweetheart, shit.” His voice was raspy from desire and the fact it was morning and Katie was beyond aroused at the sound as he babbled the first words either of them had spoken since waking. “I’m gonna-” his words caught in his mouth as she took him in hers again, this time all the way to the back of her throat. At that, he was gone, his fingers gripped her hair tight the other clutched at the bedsheets, noises escaping him that he’d never heard before as he spilled himself down her throat and slumped back completely blissed out.

Katie rolled onto her side watching, as he finally opened his eyes and looked down at her.

“Morning, Handsome.” She grinned and he felt himself chuckle.

“Morning, Gorgeous.” he said, still fighting to control his breathing.

“You want breakfast?” She asked, leaning over to peck him on the lips. He hummed a response and she smiled once more before climbing out of bed. Steve watched her head into the bathroom and found himself thinking that as far as mornings went, he’d had worse.

She emerged a few moments later, her hair slightly less wild, and she was still in his T-shirt, which fell to midway down her toned thighs, giving him a better look at that intriguing tattoo that adorned her right which he still hadn’t seen in full properly. She flashed him a smile, fully aware he was looking her up and down, and then she left without a word, clearly with no intentions of getting dressed fully yet. Which was fine by him.

Katie turned the radio on and set about making coffee, singing softly to herself as she replaced the filter paper. She tossed in a liberal amount of Columbian Roast and was just pouring two mugs when Steve, who was now out of bed, appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She smiled at him and slid a mug of the coffee over the island where the creamer and sugar already lay waiting and he took it with a thanks.

“How hungry are you?” she asked and he arched an eyebrow over the top of the mug and she gave a laugh. “Sorry, dumbass question. Fancy pancakes and fruit?”

“Don’t got to any trouble, Doll.” He began to protest but she shook her head.

“It’s no bother, I can whip up a batter in five minutes.”

Turning away from him, she reached up into the cupboard for the flour and the T-shirt she was wearing rode up slightly giving Steve a perfect view of her ass which was clad in black lace panties. The fraying tendrils of self-control he had been holding onto snapped completely and stood up from the stool he’d been perched on, right hand still clutching his coffee. He rounded the island in three long strides and placed the mug down on the counter beside her, his hands falling to her hips and he gently spun her to face him. She giggled slightly before his lips met hers and he reached down and cupped her ass in both hands picking her up easily and setting her down on the counter.

“Something got you worked up Captain?” She teased, looking up at him. Last night had clearly unlocked something in the Soldier, and she was liking what she was seeing, and feeling.

“Yeah, the sight of you wearing nothing but a pair of panties and my t-shirt…” He said raising an eyebrow as he reached for his mug again, taking another drink, trying to play it cool. But it wasn’t working clearly, as she simply laughed and slid both arms around his neck as she leaned in to kiss him again. His free hand slid to her thigh, tracing a path up until, just as he had reached the bottom of her panties, they were interrupted by the sound of the lift doors opening.

“Hey Kiddo, you in?” Steve and Katie exchanged a look, utter horror spreading from Steve’s head to his toes as Tony’s voice hit his ears.

“Kiddo?” he shouted again. “I can smell coffee, you in the kitchen?”

“Shit…” Katie said as she gently pushed Steve backwards, jumping down from the counter, adjusting the T-shirt. Steve was now a shade of crimson pretty much from his neck upwards as he desperately tried to rearrange his pants to hide his once more ebbing arousal. She debated telling Steve to hide in the bedroom but there was no way he’d get across the open plan living space to the stairs without Tony seeing him.

They were well and truly caught.

As she clocked the utter horror on Steve’s face she was suddenly overcome with giggles at how ridiculous the entire situation was. A super soldier and a SHIELD agent, both of them having faught aliens, deadly terrorists and weapons traders, were stood in her kitchen panicking about being busted fooling around by her brother.

“So, the damned board meeting was cancelled which would have been fine had I not already been on the jet over, so I thought seeing as I now in town with nothing to do we could hang for the day or if you’re too busy at least have breakfast…” Tony’s voice was getting louder as he walked through the apartment.

Steve looked at her in utter astonishment as she began to laugh now because frankly he couldn’t think of a single thing that was funny about this situation if he tried. Her laughter didn’t stop even as her brother walked into the kitchen, his brown eyes flashing from his sister to Steve and their various state of undress, a look of utter horror on his face as he processed the implications.

“Oh you have gottta be fucking kidding me…” Tony muttered, dropping the box he was carrying onto the kitchen counter. “Please tell me there’s a perfectly innocent explanation for this…” “Explanation yes, innocent…not so much.” Katie said through her laughter and Steve let out a groan. This was not how he wanted Tony to find out. “Don’t you know how to buzz Dickwad, before just walking into my apartment?”

“I have a key…” “For emergencies…” she shot back. “Stop changing the subject.” Tony demanded his eyes flashing dangerously and Katie folded her arms and tilted her chin up defiantly.

“Look, this isn’t a big deal, Tony…”

“No, this…this is a very big deal…” he snapped back as he looked from her to Steve, every line on his face was contorted with anger and shock.

Steve took a deep breath and placed his mug down on the side. “Tony…” he began trying to placate the billionaire but he was cut off.

“What, you gonna tell me this aint what it looks like?” he shook his head. “That Captain America isn’t banging my little sister? I might be like nearly 60 years younger than you old man but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Steve took a breath, his nostrils flaring at Tony’s snipe.

“Tony, I’m 29 next week, I can do what or who I like” Katie snapped at him “And besides you’ve no room to talk, the amount of times I’ve walked in on you and whichever bimbo you decided to bring home that night…”

“That is completely different!” Tony spluttered.

“No it isn’t” she shot back, hands going to her hips.

Tony’s eyes locked onto hers, before he looked back at Steve who held his gaze evenly, before the dark haired man shook his head and looked at the super soldier.

“Can you go and put some clothes on please, frankly the amount of flesh on show is disturbing me.” “Well I would but your sister is still wearing my shirt.” Steve shot back, his temper rising. Tony gave another growl and then he stopped, open mouthed.

“Are those my sweats?” He spluttered, his voice practically a squeak.

“Yes.” Katie replied simply, and at that point she grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him out of the room and up the stairs. The initial humour she had found in the situation had ebbed away and now she was livid at her brother.

“He is…” she started, opening the various drawers to pull out a hooded top. Taking Steve’s T-shirt off, as she threw it over the bed to him. “The biggest hypocrite going…”

“To be fair I can kinda see it from his point of view…” Steve said shrugging on his T-shirt and making a point of averting his eyes as she strode over to her dresser, naked bar her panties.

She pulled on a hoody and narrowed her eyes at Steve. “Don’t defend him…”

He chuckled and crossed the room, walking round the bed. “I’m not.” he placed a peck on her lips “But I do think that I should go, let you talk to him alone…”

“Yeah, probably for the best…” she breathed out a sigh and followed him down the stairs where he retrieved his sneakers.

“Wait, do you wanna take my car or…” He gestured up and down his body, and she took in his trainers, slightly too short joggers and a T-shirt “Nah, Baby Girl, I’ll run.” She smiled at the term of endearment that he hadn’t used before then, as he dropped a kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll call you later.” He promised, before disappearing in the elevator.

Katie took a deep breath and walked back into the kitchen. Tony eyed her from where he was leaning against the counter, mug of coffee in his hand.

“Don’t start.” Katie warned him, to no avail

“Oh I’m gonna!” Tony spat, before he paused and looked around “Where is the Star Spangled Ass-hole?”

“Gone home.” Katie folded her arms.

Tony snorted “I bet he has…” “You know I don’t remember me reacting like this every time you brought a girl home, which from my recollection happened quite a lot.” Katie sniped back, as she walked to where he was stood by the coffee pot and reached round him to pour herself a fresh mug.

“That..that was different…” Tony stammered at her back as she walked to the counter for the creamer.

“How so?”

“Because, well, it’s him…” he whined “I mean, seriously? Of all the men in the world…”

“Yeah because the last one worked out so great…” Katie said sarcastically, replacing the carton down with a slightly harsh action, causing some to spill over the top.

The room fell silent bar the chink of the spoon on the edge of her pink unicorn mug as she stirred in sugar and milk. She took a sip of her drink and turned to face her brother who was hunched over the counter slightly, eyes on his mug. Eventually he straightened up and met his sister’s eyes before he spoke again, this time his voice was softer.

“How long?” he asked,

“Three weeks, give or take.”

“Three weeks, and I’m only just finding out?” “Yes, Tony.” she groaned, with the air of someone talking to a small child “And your reaction is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

To be fair, Steve was right. It wasn’t an ideal way for him to find out, but she knew the reaction from Tony wasn’t about her being caught, it was about her being caught with Steve. The two men got on okay, which hadn’t always been the case, but after the battle of New York Steve had spent a lot of time with them both at the tower. Tony was still a little reserved with Steve, more so due to the fact that Captain America was someone their dad had idolised but, whilst the two men were immensely different, there was a mutual respect between them and Katie was hoping now that that was going to be enough for Tony to be reasonable about the situation.

“Please don’t kick off about this. I care about him, a lot.” She said gently, looking at her brother, appealing to his better nature and the fact that she knew he would want her to be happy.

And sure enough, that was exactly what Tony asked as he looked at her.

“Does he make you happy?”

“More than anything.” she replied honestly. “I really like him Tony, I want this to work.”

Tony studied her face for a moment before he let out a deep sigh, looking away. “Damned it.” He groaned “I can’t believe I’m going to have to have the Shovel Conversation with Captain America.”

In the silence that followed Katie debated pointing out that Steve wouldn’t be frightened in the slightest of Tony’s various threats anyway, but who was she to rob her brother of his opportunity to try and protect her? Instead she placed her mug on the counter and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Tony who sighed again and reciprocated the gesture.

“Suppose he is an improvement on Agent Shitweasel” he said, resting his chin on her head.

“That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement.” she snorted.

*****

Steve was reading a book in his lounge when Katie messaged him later that afternoon. Apparently Tony had calmed down enough to take her for lunch at some Italian place in the Business District following which they’d had a walk round the city together before Tony had left to go back to New York. Steve was pleased, he knew that despite the fact that he drove her insane at times, she loved the bones of her brother which was why his reaction before had pissed her off. He messaged back, telling her he was glad she’d had a good time and that he would call her later before he picked his book back up, but he’d only managed another chapter or so before there was a buzz on his intercom.

“Rogers, it’s me.”

Steve sighed “Come on up.”

He wasn’t surprised Tony was on his doorstep, he’d been half expecting it. And, judging from the lack of stupid nickname, no Spangles, no Capsicle, no Old Man, he wasn’t here to exchange pleasantries. A fact that was confirmed when Stark didn’t wait for Steve to invite him in, he simply pushed past the door into his flat and stalked inside, glancing around.

“You can tell Kiddo helped you decorate and furnish this gaff, far too modern to be your doing. There’s no Dig for Victory posters or wind up radios…” Tony said, causing Steve to roll his eyes “Holy shit, is that an original Dekka?”

“Katie said you’d like that” Steve watched the inventor cross the room and run his hands across the sleekness of the record player’s casing. “But I have a feeling you didn’t come here to admire my music equipment.”

“Perceptive” Tony turned to face him, his eyes flashing. Steve took a deep breath.

“Tony, I…” “No, you don’t get to talk, you get to listen. And you better listen good.” the billionaire cut him off “Katie was heartbroken when Agent Shitweasel did the dirty on her. She came home and I held her as she cried herself to sleep for 2 goddamned weeks before she shipped out to New Mexico… ”

“Tony…”Steve began, knowing already where this conversation was going. He wanted to assure Tony that he would never do what Ward had done, ever. But Tony ignored him.

“I hated him.” Tony said “he was an absolute dickhead with her at times and she changed because of it. And then, after New York she seemed to go back to being her old self. She was laughing, socialising…and that was down to you” Tony looked at the Super Soldier, who cocked his head slightly to the right as he listened, a small smile tugging at his lips “ She had a friend, something she hasn’t had much time for since my little sioree in an Afghan cave, my bad, and for the first time in ages I can see she’s over it, you know…” he took a deep breath and Steve waited for him to finish “But Katie puts her heart into everything, and I gotta ask Cap, is this serious for you or you just after getting your dick wet?”

“What? No, of course it’s serious for me Tony…” Steve said, his temper flaring slightly at his crass tone. “I can’t believe you think that little of me that you had to even ask me that!”

“Oh get off your high horse, Rogers!” Tony shook his head, and Steve raised his eyebrows “This has nothing to do with what I think of you, this is about my sister…you know the girl I brought up from the age of 7. The girl I couldn’t love any more if she was my own. I’d die for her you got that? Die for her!”

“Well that makes 2 of us!” Steve said loudly, silencing the other man. There was a moment where no sound was heard in the apartment bar the ticking of the clock on the wall and Tony raised his eyebrows slightly as Steve looked down at the floor taking a deep breath.

“Look, I know you’re not happy about this…” Steve sighed, looking at Tony again “But do I care about her Tony, more than you know, and nothing you do or say to me is gonna change that.”

Tony’s eyes softened, but his jaw remained set. Steve took a deep breath and wet his lips before he continued. “And, for what it’s worth, I think you did a damned good job of raising her. She’s an incredible woman.”

“She’s a pain in the ass…” Tony sniffed, Steve was glad to hear his tone was less confrontational “And she’s stubborn, always thinks she knows best…”

“Wonder where she gets that from?” Steve said cheekily

“Absolutely no idea” Tony deadpanned back.

Steve’s face cracked into a smile as did Tony’s.

“Look.” Tony sighed, “I just want her to be happy and with someone that treats her right…”

“I don’t ever want to hurt her, Tony. You have my word…” Steve said, honestly.

“Good, because if you do, make no mistake I will fucking kill you, slowly and painfully and there will be no defrosting 70 years down the line.” Tony’s brown eyes flashed slightly as he stared at Steve, And Steve knew, absolutely 100% that he meant it. He was surprised to find himself slightly unnerved by the threat. Hoping that his face didn’t give him away her merely nodded and then Tony’s demeanour changed completely and he turned back into the Tony Stark that Steve knew, and had to admit quite liked after all.

“Good, this was a good talk…” Tony said, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

Steve smiled as the weight he hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying was lifted off his shoulder. Having Tony’s, albeit grudging, approval would mean the world to Katie, and if he was honest, it meant a lot to him as well. Not only was Tony his friend also, but he was the closest thing Katie had to a father, and he wanted him to be alright with the fact the two of them were together.

He offered the man a coffee which he politely declined, stating he needed to get back to New York. The two shook hands on the threshold of Steve’s door before Tony gave him one last look, raising his index finger and middle finger of his right hand to his eyes, before turning them to point at Steve in an “I’m watching you” gesture. Steve raised his eyebrows in understanding and felt his mouth tug upwards at the side as Tony turned on his heels and left.

He retreated back to his living room and pulled out his phone.

“Hey Badass” Katie greeted and Steve chuckled.

“I’ve just had a visitor.” Katie groaned into the phone as he sat back on his couch

“Let me guess… my darling brother turned up to give you the shovel talk?” her tone was exasperated. “No mention of a shovel, just threatened to kill me slowly and painfully if I hurt you, and you know what? I have absolutely no qualms about the fact he would.” Steve grinned as he spoke.

“Don’t tell me Captain America is scared of Iron Man?” she questioned playfully. “No, Steve Rogers is slightly disconcerted by Tony Stark.” He corrected as she let out a chuckle.

“Best make sure you don’t hurt me then aint ya?” “I’ve no intentions of doing doll.” He said, honestly before he let out a breath, smiling “I really enjoyed last night.”

“And this morning?”

“Yeah, another first.” He said, unable to stop the smirk on his face spreading into his voice “I’ve never, errr, had a woman use her mouth on me before…or vice versa for that matter.”

“I like being your first.” she said softly and his chest warmed at her words.

“You know what else was a first? Waking up next to my girl.”

There was a pause before she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“And you know what else I like? You calling me your girl.”

A shit eating grin crept back across the Captains face. “Well, you better get used to it, Doll.”

**** Chapter 7

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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WELL. Episode 3 of Word of Honor.

First of all: If you are NEW or JUST VISITING, this is a re-watch, so there are SPOILERS not just for this ep, but for the ENTIRE SHOW. A lot of them, actually. Scroll away and come back later if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

So, this ep feels a little disjointed. I don’t think it actually is, not in the way the back nine are a speedrun where the writing starts to feel like it’s thisclose to coming off the rails, but it feels like it, in that we’re now getting a double handful of threads thrust at us that are only just starting to be woven together into a plot, and it’s the kind of hot mess that any fiberwork looks like before the pattern starts to show itself, particularly when you’re using 15 different color threads from jump. There’s generally a major theme or issue or overriding concept that stands out to me in each ep that, you may have noticed, gets primacy of place in these reactions, but honestly, y’all, I really struggled to figure out what that might be for this episode, because a lot of this, on re-watch, strikes me as groundwork for later developments. Wen Kexing gives us an “as you know, Bob” speech about the Amory and the Glazed Armor, we meet approx. 3.2K new characters, and I feel sort of like I should start keeping a chart of who’s supposed to have a piece of the Glazed Armor and who actually does have a piece of the Glazed Armor, but it’s already so confusing that it might be too late.*

ANYWAY, on re-watch, I can absolutely see the value of spending Eps 1 & 2 on introducing us to Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing and getting us pulled into their orbit, because then we have scenes we’re already invested in to maintain our interest as the background politics begin to frustratingly play out with a bunch of people we don’t know or have any investment in yet. I mean, y’all. I forgot just what an ill-tempered gremlin ZZS was in these early eps. He is so fk’n put out that these people will not let him drink himself to death in the gutter in peace! Or, you know, in occasional Nightly Nails Torment. And the exasperation from both ZZS and Chengling over WKX’s antics – both of their faces are priceless in the scene when they discover he’s the one who’s bought out all the rooms at the inn. I literally lol’d. Again. Even knowing it was coming. All of this interaction is so delightful. This is actually the ep that provoked my very first WoH keysmash flailing Tumblr post and inaugurated the “wen kexing’s thirst is practically a third character” tag. I guess the biggest throughline for this ep is that we can continue to see how everything changes when we know about their previous relationship – things like WKX’s insistence that they have a “deep bond through fate” take on additional layers of meaning rather than just sounding like some dude who’s trying to pick you up at last call. Interesting that ZZS describes WKX at one point during their push-pull conversational dance as “like a wretched soul that keeps haunting around.” You mean, like a GHOST? Like a Ghost Valley ghost? Like the almost forgotten memory of a past life ghost? ZZS wants to know why WKX keeps following him around, and it would be nice if WKX would just come clean, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

ZZS, re: Chengling: I do my best to ensure what was entrusted to me.

WKX: :makes (already! in ep 3!) yet another in a series of bad decisions not to say anything about the fact that he, himself, was in fact entrusted to ZZS:

Show: Here’s the first of many helpings of heartache to come. EAT IT. EAT IT ALL.

(Me: Well, here’s another AU idea: What would the course of this relationship be like if WKX flat-out asked ZZS what ZZS’s relationship to Four Seasons Manor was, and bare-faced claimed sanctuary as long-lost shidi Zhen Yan at this point? Because I bet there are plenty of ways that could actually go wrong. Not to mention the deliciousness of just watching them navigate a relationship shift that sudden. I feel like, at this point, WKX would have to be actively confrontational about it, would have to throw it in ZZS’s face – it would need to be something he did in the heat of anger, in order to have this pushed out past all of his fears. Like, you say that, but where were you when I needed you? Also, you think so, well what if your responsibility actually turned out to be the TERRIFYING GHOST VALLEY MASTER, what then, huh? And ZZS, still pretty actively suicidal over all of his failures, having to deal with what’s now being presented as YET ANOTHER FAILURE.)

Also, the theme of “knowing” (zhiji, the one I know) is starting to slide in sideways – we’re seeing a lot of back and forth between them asking about seeing the other’s “true face.” WKX says that he’ll tell ZZS what he (WKX) wants from him once he gets to see ZZS’s true face (LIES, it’s going to take a lot longer than that). ZZS asks to see WKX’s figurative true face, and WKX looks kind of sad and contemplative as he warns that it may be unappealing or terrifying. So, you know, we’re starting to poke at all the softest, most tender places and the issues that are going to stab me repeatedly in the heart for the rest of the show. We’re also already seeing the way Xiao Chu just layered in references throughout the script when she wrote it that call back to each other – it’s like almost any line of dialogue references three other lines of dialogue (and that’s without even getting into all of the literary references that I’m missing because I don’t have cultural context). You get things like WKX’s little speech right at the end that it’s hard to tell a ghost from a human, which on its face might be referring to the two “ghosts” that were coming for Chengling that he took care of and act as an admonishment to ZZS not to be so quick to assume they’re actually from Ghost Valley, but it also refers to WKX, himself, and specifically lays the groundwork (“someone wearing a ghost mask is not necessarily a ghost”) for his conversation in a later ep with ZZS when he asks if ZZS thinks he’s a good person, and also calls back (“someone who looks human may not be human”) to the line from earlier in this ep, itself, when WKX tells ZZS that perhaps WKX’s true face is terrifying. And so we get a nicely little wrapped package of the dichotomy of WKX and his issues. (As a somewhat related aside, A-Xiang’s little face when Zhou Zishu says all of the ghosts of Ghost Valley are full of evil (at 6:55). D: This reaction is obviously for herself, but also may be the first time she acts as proxy for Wen Kexing, as well.)

What else, what else?

So, nobody has a good opinion of the jianghu. WKX is going to be constantly all, “You killed my father, jianghu, prepare to die,” but ZZS also goes off about how it’s just about greed, hatred and ignorance, and yeah, I guess he’d have a pretty bad impression of it, when Prince Jin and Tian Chuang seemed like a better option than the pressure he was facing, trying to keep Siji Manor Sect alive back in the day. We talk a lot about WKX’s childhood trauma, because it’s so awful and right in our faces, but I don’t know how much we actually talk about the fact that ZZS was a teenager not much older than Chengling when he inherited a sect and tried desperately to keep it from being torn apart by the rest of the jianghu. I think we see some bitterness come out in the first few episodes – frankly, in this ep, he doesn’t seem to make much of a distinction between Ghost Valley and the rest of the jianghu. Also interesting that the metaphor he uses about the jianghu’s and Ghost Valley’s greed for the treasures of the Armory is “reaping without sowing,” given what we find out is actually in there in Ep 36.

We see our metaphor of light get pulled out again – this throughline strikes me as more like beads on a string than a thread, at this point, but maybe I’ll notice it more on this second time through … Anyway, WKX’s comment at 9:11 that it’s almost dawn is notable. Indeed, but is it because your plan is beginning to work and you can see the destruction of Ghost Valley and the jianghu coming down the pike, or is it because you’ve found your shixiong?

I notice WKX has color-coordinated ZZS and Chengling in the robes he bought for them, has already grouped them together, marked them as belonging to each other – he’s already subtly treating them as each other’s family. The show, with a particular lack of subtlety, also will have ZZS there to wake up Chengling from nightmares later in the end of the ep, as Chengling calls out for his dad in his sleep.

OK, Deng Kuan is the guy in charge of the Yueyang sect contingent that arrived in time to see the Mirror Lake chaos in Ep 2 and has taken charge of cleaning up the bodies in this ep. I actually overlooked him, pretty much, the first time around, but here, he’s already got Shen Shen yelling at him (in a completely ridiculous fashion) for not getting there in time to save the Mirror Lake Sect, so he’s just going to be a punching bag through the whole show, apparently. Shen Shen is wu-di, fifth (little) brother, and he refers to Chengling’s dad as si-ge, fourth (older) brother, so Shen Shen appears to be the youngest of the Five Lakes sworn brothers, leading me to believe that some of what makes him so insufferable through a lot of the show is baby brother syndrome. Also, Shen Shen and his group find the Soul Winding Threads of the Hanged Ghost … supposedly. I mean, the Hanged Ghost was the guy who we saw get got in Ep 1, soooooo …. (remember these Soul Winding Threads, btw).

*This got super long so I’m’a put this last bit under a cut, but I did try to start a running tally of who’s holding a piece of the Glazed Armor:

Each of the Five Lakes Alliance sects is supposed to have a piece of the Glazed Armor, yes? So, as of the end of Ep 3 (hierarchical bro-titles are from didi Shen Shen’s POV):

- Yueyang Sect, led by Gao Chong (da-ge) - presumably still has his

- Tai Hu Sect, led by Zhao Jing (er-ge) – presumably still has his

- Danyang Sect, led by Lu Taichong (san-ge, presumably) – apparently the sect has already been attacked off-screen (by “Ghost Valley?” and WHEN?), as we learn in Ep 3 that Lu-zongzhu has been killed and his remaining two tiny disciples have fled to the protection of Ao Laizi and Tai Shan Sect, one of the lesser sects, and are believed to have taken Danyang’s Glazed Armor with them. We learn this from Tao Hong, Lv Liu and Begger Gang Chief, but I notice that Gao Chong only mentions the Mirror Lake massacre as the precipitating event for the Hero’s Conference and total war on Ghost Valley – he doesn’t even mention Danyang Sect, so does Five Lakes not know about this yet?

- Mirror Lake Sect, led by Zhang Yusen (si-ge) – Zhang-zongzhu killed by “Ghost Valley” in Ep 2, Glazed Armor “missing” and speculated POST EP 2 to have been taken by Ghost Valley (but will turn up in a few eps, thanks to our little Goldbean)

- Dagu Shan Sect, led by Shen Shen (wu-di) – presumably still has his

And then we move to:

- Tai Shan Sect, led by Ao Laizi – in-world speculation is that he now has the Danyang Glazed Armor. We do see him near the end of the ep with the two tiny Danyang shidi, where he makes the intriguing comment that he’s going to follow their shifu’s last wishes and keep their Glazed Armor from falling into the hands of the Five Lakes Alliance, so what exactly was going on between San-ge and his sworn brothers at the time of his death? This group also is apparently being pursued by Shen Shen to get their Glazed Armor, and they make him sound awful. You need better PR, Shen Shen.

- Ghost Valley – POST EP 2, speculated to have taken the Mirror Lake Glazed Armor (FALSE)

NOTABLY, “Ghost Valley Master” set a lot of this chaos in motion in Ep 1 when he claimed that Hanged Ghost (who got got a scene earlier) had stolen HIS piece of the Glazed Armor, although he shouldn’t have a piece (supposedly) until after Ep 2, when he’s believed to have taken Mirror Lake’s. So, what piece would that be, exactly, Terrifying Ghost Valley Master? You wouldn’t be lying in pursuit of chaos would you? (Somewhere, WKX gasps theatrically behind his fan, and he doesn’t even know what motivated it, this time.)

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #shen shen #deng kuan #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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dragons-bones · 4 years

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5 Questions for Writers

Tagged by: @frostmantle (thank you!)

Tagging: @ishgard, @starsandauras, @twelveswood, @autumnslance, aaaaaaand YOU (because I cannot keep track of who’s done this or not XD)

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

----

Cut for length!

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

I am, of course, obviously quite fond of snarky, quick-witted characters, and my OCs banter a lot. Dialogue is one of my favorite things to write, so chatty characters in general I find easier to approach. It’s fun slinging sass back and forth! (This tends to be why I focus a lot of Synnove and Rereha most often--they’re the snark queens of the Squad and the most likely to turn the sarcasm filter off and just go off on someone. Which further reminds me I need to have Thancred and Rereha trading jabs, too, at some point...)

I’ve also really been enjoying writing Aymeric specifically, even if it is intimidating to do so at times. I obviously headcanon him as ridiculously smitten with Synnove (the feeling, of course, is mutual), and finding the right balance of “deeply in love with a Warrior of Light” without it coming off as overly saccharine or out of character is a great mental exercise. Also of course I enjoy indulging my personal fantasy of having a handsome man be a badass, deeply in love with his lady, and perfectly delighted to kick ass beside his lady!

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

Food porn. My mother’s Italian, I grew up being taught to enjoy food, I love sharing my enjoyment of food. Plus it’s usually accompanying some happier moments, or domestic ones, and is basically a cue to the readers that the story is meant to be light and fun.

I have no idea what the proper trope name would be (and going to TV Tropes to asking to start a rabbit hole dive I shouldn’t begin), but as we all know, I love Shenanigans. I typically write them in reaction to how serious the setting is; I deeply enjoy stretching how far I insert some humor and levity without it becoming crack. I think it provides some fresh air; I enjoy angst and hurt/comfort and dark themes, but frequently it’s not something I prefer to write for myself.

I also enjoy found family, battle couples, magic-as-science... Anything that gives me an excuse to write character interactions and/or worldbuild. The great fun of fanfiction, particularly in a setting like FFXIV, is that we’ve got a bare bones foundation, with some areas more developed than others, but otherwise there is a ton of room to grow my own ideas. I personally like to work within lore, but it is hugely enjoyable for me to figure out how to get certain concepts to work with the lore rather than against it. (See: my approach to arcanima.)

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

This obviously changes all the time, but there’s a couple I really love:

From Pearls of Wisdom:

It was one of the most basic principles of magic, not just arcanima: astral elements and umbral elements. It was such an accepted, unquestioned foundation that she had never even considered that the three elements most commonly used by arcanists for their carbuncles were not all the same primary polarity. Every element could manifest as either polarity, but Roksana Blackspark was correct, now that Synnove properly thought about it: wind, earth, and fire were much, much more likely to be found in a stable state. Even the Guild’s enormous aether batteries, all the way down in subbasement twelve, had been initially tricky to install until they found the right combination of overgrown elemental clusters, with most of the problems coming from the water, ice, and levin clusters.

Of course trying to infuse any sort of gem with those three elements specifically was going to fail, they were fucking overaspected to astral or umbral. The equations didn’t fucking work as they should because they were built to account for elements that naturally occurred in stable states, and so the infusions fizzled and the gemstones cracked and no carbuncles could manifest.

But.

But if she did account for instability, or, in fact, deliberately found crystals with which to infuse gems that were of opposite polarities so that the final infusion was stable…

A new thought made itself known, and Synnove stuffed the rest of her cake in her mouth, set the plate and fork aside, bookmarked her spot in the journal, and opened up the note taking program, yanking the stylus from the side of the case. As she chewed, she began scribbling in frantic shorthand. Perhaps in addition to ensuring stable aetheric polarity, she could also try infusion over time as well? Even when artificially infusing emeralds, topazes, and rubies, the stones still cracked every one time out of eight. Certainly, working with water, levin, and ice aether would benefit from a slower infusion speed, as it would allow her to keep a better eye on maintaining polar equilibrium, and if that issue was what was affecting the failures for wind, earth, and fire, then that would be two problems solved.

…Perhaps three, Synnove sucking in a deep breath and her heart pounding as she wrote. A proper balance of aetheric polarization combined with a slow enough infusion potentially meant that she could, theoretically, infuse any precious stone she desired, not just ones with a specific hardness and durability. Of course, the equations would need to be further adjusted to take into account the specific chemical properties of the specific gems and how they would need to interact with different elemental aether, but that, while difficult and tedious, was still doable.

Writing characters smarter than oneself is really difficult and intimidating, but I think I did a really good job showing Synnove’s thought process, and based on some of the feedback I’ve gotten, I succeeded! So I’m really, really proud of this passage.

From Suffer, Promise, Witness (FFXIV Write 2019 #19):

The ground shook, suddenly, and Synnove whipped her head around to the direction from which it originated, staring in shock. In the distance, an enormous red…key, for lack of a better term, pulsing with blue aetherlight, had struck the ground. The dust cloud kicked up rose immediately into the air and began obscuring it, and even from here she could see that the force of the strike had knocked down allies and foes alike around it.

Then a roar of sound—a deep, resonant thunder of triumphant, all-consuming rage—engulfed Carteneau, drawing every eye skyward, to see Dalamud’s outer shell, glowing with more of that sickly blue aetherlight, cracking open.

And Dalamud exploded.

The shockwave hit her first, throwing her and every other living being on the Plains still alive and standing to the ground with a force that punched the air from her lungs. The sound came next, shaking her bones and cracking the stone around her in an awful crescendo of combusting, howling aether. Her ears rang—or maybe it was just the screams of terror from every damned soul on the Carteneau killing fields all blending together.

The sky was aflame, and then the first of the pieces of Dalamud impacted the ground. Molten earth flew into the air, and then again from another impact, and another, and another, until the heavens and the earth were indistinguishable from how they both burned. Synnove desperately tried to sit up, feet scrambling to find purchase on the broken ground, as Galette and Tyr converged on her, eyes wide with fear as they tugged and pushed on her to get her upright.

Honestly I love this whole piece, but trying to describe what’s basically a trailer from another perspective (while also trying to portray the passage of time in an accurate manner) was difficult. I’d been dying to write the Synnove at Carteneau piece for a long time, and I just let myself write without worry. I think it came out pretty well! (Everyone screaming at me after the fact certainly boosted my confidence. :D)

From Assessments (FFXIV Write 2017 #25)

He did not attempt to step softly, as it was always a poor idea to sneak up on any warrior, never mind a Warrior of Light, but apparently Synnove was deeply enough engrossed in her text to not register his approach. Tyr, however, looked over as soon as he noticed the loud clacking of boot heels on stone floor coming closer to his mistress. He perked his ears up and came to meet Aymeric, shoving his face into the elezen’s hands.

“Maow!” the topaz carbuncle said, deep and echoing like a brass bell, only a little bone-rattling.

Aymeric laughed softly and obliging scratched behind his ears. Tyr thrummed happily, enjoying the attention for a few moments, before he disengaged and went back to Synnove. He braced himself on the rungs of the ladder and reached up with his paw to tap her foot, chirruping quietly.

“Hmm? Whazzit, honey?” Synnove said, voice distant and distracted. She did not look up as she turned the page.

Tyr sat back on his haunches and said, “Maow!”

Aymeric hadn’t the faintest idea of what Tyr had said, but Synnove most certainly did, as her head jerked up in surprise. (He winced sympathetically; when she had straightened, her spine had made an awful crack.) She frantically looked around until her gaze settled on Aymeric. She blinked rapidly, quite obviously not yet comprehending what she was seeing, until a smile finally bloomed across her features, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, fancy meeting you here,” she said, her cheerfulness tempered by the slight slur of exhaustion in her voice.

There were dark circles under her eyes, her hair was obviously unkempt up close, and her fingers were ever-so-slightly shaking from the particular combination of too much caffeine and not enough sleep, but Synnove Greywolfe was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Aymeric grinned up at her, not bothering to disguise how besotted he was with no witnesses about to see, and said, “What brings one of the celebrated Warriors of Light to Ishgard a bell before midnight?” He took a few steps closer to the ladder and held out his arms.

Synnove winced as she closed and shelved the book she had been reading. “Thal’s balls, that late?” She slid to the edge of the ladder’s seat, pushed off with her right hand and foot, and unceremoniously dropped into his grasp.

He tightened his hold on her as he caught her, drawing her close, and he dropped a kiss on each of her eyelids, relishing the giggles the action elicited from her. Another kiss on her nose, one to the beauty mark at the side of her chin, and then he finally kissed her properly. Synnove, in turn, languidly draped her arms around his shoulders and ran her fingers through the hairs on the nape of his neck, practically purring as she did. He hummed appreciatively against her lips, and they both ended up laughing into the kiss.

(Next to them, Tyr sighed, and rolled his eyes.)

Aymeric reluctantly drew away and set her on her feet, keeping Synnove steady as she wobbled and her spine cracked yet again. His beloved immediately leaned back into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and slouching so her cheek could rest over his heart. He smiled and returned the hug, resting his chin on her head. He closed his eyes and swayed with her gently, enjoying the familiar and much-missed comfort of her presence.

An older bit, but I love these two goobers, and I love writing them being physically affectionate and just basking in each other. Fucking cuties.

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

FUCK I HAVE TO CHOOSE. Okay, let’s start with Pearls of Wisdom again:

Rereha threw open the doors to Aymeric’s office, shite-eating grin firmly plastered on her face as she skipped inside, and sang out, “Congratulations! It’s twins!”

Two things happened.

First, as soon as the doors opened, but before Rereha even opened her mouth, Lucia, she of finely honed Frumentarium instincts and years of friendship with a lalafell infamous across the realm for her Theatrics and Shenanigans, reached out and yanked the multitude of reports on the desk in front of Aymeric out of the way.

Second, Aymeric, who had been taking a sip of tea at the exact moment Rereha entered the office, choked and spat out said tea across his desk—and where all of the paperwork had once been not even a second before—in the most glorious spit take Rereha had ever engendered. A tiny part of her was saddened at the waste of perfectly good tea, but, wow, that had been spectacular. She gave herself a mental pat on the back and came to a stop in the middle of the office, grin widening to manic levels.

Lucia pounded Aymeric on the back between his shoulder blades as he coughed and sputtered, stopping only when the Lord Commander wheezed out, wide-eyed, voice high-pitched and halfway to a full-blown panic, “WHAT?!”

THREE YEARS THIS LIVED IN MY HEAD. THREE FUCKING YEARS I HAVE WANTED TO WRITE THIS STORY AND BEGIN IT WITH THAT LINE. THREE YEARS AND IT’S FINALLY OUT IN THE WORLD AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

From Needling (FFXIV Write 2019 #17):

Merlwyb drained her cup dry and poured herself a fresh serving (no whiskey this time, however). Grudgingly, she filled a second, and slid it over to Synnove, along with the bowl of maple sugar cubes and jar of cream. The arcanist doctored her tea as she preferred it—three lumps, generous dash of cream—and took a luxurious sip, humming in satisfaction.

“Why are you here?” the Admiral finally said, tea cup in hand and elbows braced on her desk. She wedged her feet a little firmer beneath Tyr.

“Mmmm, we had to bodily force Thubyrgeim to take a vacation,” said Synnove. She took another slow sip of tea. “Accounting realized she hadn’t taken a proper one in nigh on three years. So, we kicked her out of the Gate, with the caveat that she wasn’t to come back until next moon, and then we divvied up her usual responsibilities among the lot of us. I volunteered for the pleasure and delight of taking over our dear Guildmistress’s sennightly meetings with you.” Here the woman batted her eyelashes.

Merlwyb eyed her. “You have an ulterior motive,” she said, enunciating clearly for emphasis. “You always have an ulterior motive.”

“I enjoy the faces you make when you are confronted with the stark reality that every single one of your arcanists is capable of rewriting the laws of creation but are, simultaneously, godsdamned lunatics who should be taken out back and shot.”

“I should start with you.”

“Start with aetherochemistry; they just invented a new plague.” Synnove took the top folder from the pile and slid it across the desk to the Admiral.

“Of course they bloody did,” Merlwyb growled, opening the folder and skimming the abstract on the first page. Dear gods, did they really decide to mix malaria and consumption? Always so busy wondering if they could they never bothered to consider if they should. She plucked her reading glasses from their usual spot, sliding them on as she turned the page to the formal report, written in the aetherochemistry department chair’s tiny, cramped hand. Absently, she said, “And no, we are not testing it on the faculty of the University of Radz-at-Han.”

Synnove pouted. For the first time that afternoon, Merlwyb cracked a grin.

Merlwyb doesn’t get enough love, in my opinion, and of course I imagine she’s a salty bitch underneath the cool, commanding exterior. Couple that with Synnove probably letting loose the Full Sass (she would never behave such with Raubahn, Nanamo, or Kan-E, but she’s been an assessor for fifteen years, she knows exactly how far she can poke the Admiral and is well aware it’s tolerated only because she’s been an arcanist for so long) and the “out back and shot” line is my single favorite sentence from the whole of FFXIV Write 2019, and this is my favorite character exchange that’s I’ve done in a long time.

From Of Taunting and Tales (FFXIV Write 2019 #25)

Knock knock a-knock—knockknock! “Guess who~.”

A loud groan answered her. “Go away, you debauched scandalmonger!”

Rereha poked her head into one of the private rooms of the Rhalgr’s Reach infirmary, wicked grin firmly in place. “Now, now, Mr. Scaeva, is that any way to speak to the lady come to relieve your unending boredom?” she drawled.

The former tribunus laticlavius of the XIVth Imperial Legion raised his arm, hand up and middle finger extended, without lifting his head from his pillow.

Rereha cackled and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. A disgusted sigh came from Nero’s direction, and he flopped his arm back down on the mattress with a characteristically overdramatic wave of his hand. She grabbed a chair sitting by the wall and dragged it behind her as she waltzed towards Nero’s bed, the wood shrieking angrily against the stone of the floor, and whistled a cheery little ditty deliberately out of tune. She could see his jaw clenched in annoyance as she set the chair up near the head of the bed and cackled again as she hopped up into it. She placed the book she had been carrying on her lap and folded her hands primly on top of it, beaming.

“How are we feeling today?” she chirped.

“Like I’ve been run over by a flock of rabid chocobos.” Nero stubbornly refused to open his eyes, instead folding his hands on his stomach in unknowing mirror of her. “And then sat upon by a buffalo.”

“That’s an improvement! Last time you said you felt like you’d been chewed and spat out by an enraged king behemoth!”

“Rereha,” he sighed, still not opening his eyes. “Why are you here? Garlond and Greywolfe are infinitely more stimulating conversationalists, for all their damned sanctimonious self-important morals and ethics.” He spat out the last word like it was a particularly loathsome curse.

“I’m hurt, Nero,” said Rereha, placing her hand on her heart. She pitched her voice to express layers of emotion: disappointment, regret, sadness. “Genuinely hurt. A friend of mine has been grievously wounded in the course of his attempts to safeguard not just Eorzea, but Hydaelyn as a whole from an interdimensional entity of vast and unfathomable power. I come in my spare time to bring some light and laughter to his dreary hospital room as he heals, and he insults me and wishes for the company of others.”

A long silence descended over them both. Finally, Nero arched one golden eyebrow and cracked an eye open to stare at her incredulously.

Rereha pursed her lips together and said pensively, “Laid it on a bit too thick, didn’t I?”

He raised his hand and held his forefinger and thumb a quarter of an ilm apart.

“Damn,” Rereha said, crossing her arms. “Ah, well.”

Rereha basically exists to let me write Sass and Irreverent Humor. Nero is full of Salt and Sass. Together they could flay someone with words alone. I also really enjoyed writing Nero being a sassmaster without using words. Wordless dialogue is fun!! :D

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

One day I’m gonna get over my hesitation about writing (and sharing) smut and fucking write the first time Synnove and Aymeric had sex. I know exactly when and where and how.

...Also Synnove getting ravished in one of the Neo-Ishgardian dresses. That’s, like, second on the list. Ooohh, and the Vacation Fic; maybe I should write that one as scenes and worry about connecting them after the fact. I think because that one will require chapters and I’m more of a one-shot person is a reason I have yet to start it.

#meme stuff #writing #dt's writing

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elven-ariaera · 4 years

Text

Read the New Leaf Diaries first here!

Start from NH Diaries part 1: Permanent Island Getaway

Day 7

Kitt moved in this morning. It felt so good to have her back in my life. I did not realize how nostalgic I would get already, but no matter what, I am sticking with my plan to move forward. Citytown is behind me, and Islandtown is my future.

I got a free tee-shirt in the mail from Dodo Airlines. Audie didn’t seem to care much about it and gave me a lecture on fashion. I guess she does know what she’s talking about. Maybe I should pawn it off on some poor unsuspecting fool…

Until then, all I can do is think about my life choices while wearing this dumb dodo shirt…

That night a terrifying thing happened. A tarantula appeared and tried to get Audie! Luckily for her, I had a bug net in hand. I crept up next to the little sucker and swiped my net! …Only to miss and get bitten by the arachnid. Luckily she dragged me back to my house and all was well again.

You know, that’s a reoccurrence that I could never quite figure out. Whenever I am bitten by a spider or stung by bees to the point of passing out, I always wind up back in my home. Who is taking me there? Is that you, Antonio?

Day 8

I caught a Whale Shark! I thought about doing a little more fishing after my excellent finds two nights ago and my word I’ve done it again! Sure it was the most ridiculously heavy thing I’ve ever had to reel in — I’m surprised the line didn’t snap — but I did it!

I brought it to Blathers to give it a nice new home in the museum. Let me tell you, finding a plastic baggie big enough to bring it in was its own challenge. He told me some interesting tidbits about the gentle giant. Learning can be fun sometimes!

Is that an actual option?

I had also been working on a garden for a while now and I must say it is really coming along! I’m so pleased… That’s it. There’s no punchline. Not everything in life is a joke! Can’t I just have a moment of serenity for once in my life?

Oh, I had nearly forgotten! Stitches finally moved in! I’m not sure why he was the last one to move in when I asked him first, but I guess he had a lot of things to unpack. I visited him to welcome him to the neighborhood as he unpacked and he was very persistent about cleaning the back left corner of his home… Even though the entire floor was coated in dirt.

In other news, Audie and I have continued to bond and I’ve learned some things about her. She might not be as innocent as I initially thought…

I didn’t realize you played Smash Bros too!

But then we got to chatting about movies and it turns out she’s writing one. A rock-opera to be exact. While I was genuinely interested, its plot was a little hard to follow…

Really, all the neighbors and I have been getting along rather well. I jumped in on a conversation between Bud and Kitt, though, and it seems they have rather opposite tastes. Literally.

All these wacky shenanigans that go on in this town, I swear, it’d make for some kind of sitcom. I actually just received a cartoonist set from Kitt earlier, perhaps I’ll try my hand at it sometime. For now, these journals will have to suffice.

Day 9

I had gotten a new room expansion for my house the other day and it seems that word spread quickly! Audie has been dying to come over and see the place since the first day, but now she has sort of been inviting herself over.

It’s not that I don’t want her over, she’s easily become my best friend of all the island’s residents that live here. I simply want to gussy up the place before she comes. Still, she remains persistent… Is this what Antonio felt like about my persistence?

…Man, what a great feeling to be loved and admired so much.

I headed over to check in on Stitches today seeing as he was still new to island life. He seems to be progressing rather quickly and is already doing stuff.

On another note, he keeps insisting that he has bug friends who live inside the floor and whisper things to him while he sleeps. Should I be concerned?

Mabel dropped by today to set up shop in the town plaza. I always enjoy her selection of clothing to pick from. She’s also quite the trooper — It rained practically all day today, and still, she stood outside waiting for potential customers. I do think I was the only one though…

She just stands there… Menacingly!

Later that night Audie insisted on coming over again. I did explain to her that I was waiting for the renovations on my new room aka extension walk-in closet to be finished before anyone saw, and she seemed to understand, so we went back to her place to chat for a while. I found it a little ironic that she didn’t want me to snoop around her house yet she kept trying to persuade me to invite her over to my house… Does she have a secret shrine of me?

…That would be so sweet! She’s the best friend I ever had!

We later went on a late-night stroll and things got real. I told her about my previous fishing escapades and she kept freaking out. It seems she has a severe case of ichthyophobia.

Day 10

The resident’s hall was under construction and they have now finished and revealed the new and improved plaza. It looks magnificent! Nook had even gotten new help from off-island. He hired Isabelle, my assistant from back home. I guess Citytown isn’t doing so hot without me…

Now I have no quarrel with Isabelle under normal circumstances, but I can’t help but feel that Nook is trying to replace me. I am your island representative, not her! Don’t you dare get any ideas…

Ugh, Isabelle, you make it so hard to hate you when you act so precious!

Anyway, it’s clear that I’m still the favorite of the residents. Stitches came by and gave me a house-warming gift even though he was the one who just moved in… Still, it was much appreciated.

I dropped by the town hall today to carry on business as usual, but of course, Tom Nook just had to rave about what a great help Isabelle would be. I mean, sure, she did let me change the flag because of my magnificent artistic potential, but that doesn’t change anything! I’ve got my eye on you, Isabelle…

Btw, the flag looks fabulous.

Other business included the construction of a suspension bridge. Of course, most of that money was coming out of my pocket, but still, if it could save me from a pole-vaulting accident, I’d gladly pay the majority.

I decided to look for more resources to sell off-island and the dodo’s brought me to a wonderful place. They brought me to an island filled with rare hybrid colored cosmos growing all over! It was truly a sight to behold! My garden would look absolutely stunning with some of these added in the variety! Why haven’t these dodo-brains ever brought me here before? Oh…

In addition, I think my talk with Audie yesterday night helped her overcome her fear of fish. But I still don’t think she understands how fishing works…

Day 11

I still needed to make some money for that suspension bridge, so I thought a little bug catching and tree shaking would do the trick. Kitt called out to me, asking if I was having a fun time bug catching. She then apologized for assuming, and though she did assume correctly, I appreciate her earnest apology.

We also opened a campsite today! To think, the future resident of my town would soon be here! Nook was very persistent about persuading people to settle down here, and I couldn’t agree more. I wonder what kind of animal they would be? I wonder if maybe… No. Certainly he wouldn’t be there…

Enough stressing myself out over the thought of my future resident. I also took another mystery flight from Dodo Airlines to see what magnificent isle they might bring me to today. Yesterdays ��Hybrid Island,” as I am thoughtfully dubbing it, was a sight to behold. How could they ever top that?

In short, they didn’t. They brought me to an island where every fish in the river was a black bass. Every. Single. One.

I hate you all…

As awful as that experience was, I had to be grateful that the ocean fish were not all sea basses. Ugh. I shudder at the very thought of such a place even existing. Still, I complained to their manager. I had already booked a Nook Miles Ticket in advance, so their flight tomorrow had better be good!

All the neighbors today kept stressing out about the Happy Home Designers committee and I just couldn’t understand why. They give you nice presents if you do a good job decorating your home, right? Well, when speaking to Audie, she presented it to me in a whole different way. I’ll never look at the Happy Home community the same way again…

A friend of mine had invited me and another chum over to his island later that evening. It was a delightful night filled with picnics and hide-and-go-seek.

I also met someone. Roald. His eyes were so striking, I could not look away. With that and his chiseled features, one could easily… No. Stop it. You are a one-anteater kind of woman! Someday he’ll come back. I know he will. Until then, I must resist the sweet temptations of this gorgeous hunk of penguin.

Oh, you lift? I can tell…

Day 12

Today’s the day~

We have a guest at the campsite! Oh, I can’t wait to meet them! I’m so excited that I had to write about it the first minute I got up today! This lucky fellow isn’t even aware that they’re going to be our future resident! Ooo, I’m so excited! I have to go! I’ll write more when I get back tonight!

I don’t want to talk about it. Ugh, but I have to vent somewhere, don’t I?

Our guest today was Graham, the hamster. Ugh. I do not like Graham. Why? He’s such a wannabe poser! He claims he’s a celebrity and uses corny terms all the time. He greeted me by saying “Bonjourno!” and later exclaimed his excitement by shouting “Guten Tag!” First — that’s not even the same language as you were faking before, second, you’re not using that phrase properly! Don’t think I’m not onto you, hamster.

To make matters worse, he doesn’t even refer to me by my name. He just calls me “Hey, you!” Do you even know who I am, pal? I’m more a celebrity than you’ll ever be!

Ugh, after that nightmare finally ended (for now,) I needed a bit of joy in my life. Stitches was the perfect friend to brighten my day. But then I screwed that up too — I thought it would be cute to give him a stuffed Panda Bear, and then I remembered he is a stuffed bear. Oh, my dear sweet Stitches, I am so very sorry.

Then Gulliver washed up on my shore again. Even he is aware of my excess loads of free time so, of course, I had to help him…

I decided it was time to just take a breather and use that Nook Miles Ticket I had. I looked the pilot dead in the eyes before we took off and said, “I swear, if you bring me to black bass island one more time, it will be the last thing you ever do.” Needless to say, he brought me to Bell Rock island today. I went to the island with 5,000 bells and came home with 87,000. I am one satisfied customer.

By the way, how does that work? I understand when I chip away at a rock and things like stone or clay fall from it, but bells? Perhaps bells are actually a type of stone valued so much by the animal people it’s used as currency? You see, I could accept that, but the fact that sometimes it flies out of the rock wrapped in little bags, it just baffles me!

Well, with all my profits from that trip I managed to pay for another bridge. Audie and I were discussing how this would benefit us by not having to use the vaulting poles anymore.

Also, Kitt hurt my feelings today too. She said that my style was basic. She could see I was a bit upset by this, so she covered it up by saying she meant I wore basics well, but I knew what she really meant. I’m starting to remember why I let her move from Citytown…

Yeah, well, your hat doesn’t match your jacket!

Though this day was full of ups and downs, the final part of my story ends with the highest high one could feel. Later in the evening, I thought I should attempt to find the rumored Tarantula Island. I haven’t had any luck finding a specimen for the museum, so certainly I would be able to find one in a place literally named after the creature. But I did not find the island. However, what I found was even better. Love.

I got off the plane, and lo and behold, there he was. My precious, my darling — Antonio was there! I ran to his side, thrilled to see him, nearly jumping into his arms — but I controlled myself.

We talked and talked, catching up on life since we last saw each other. It turned out he was doing a survival training challenge, which is why he was out on the island. Typical Antonio. Still, his training was doing him wonders, ooh, those muscles!

He also noticed how much I have been toning myself as well, what with all this island hopping and hard labor Nook tasks me with.

He off-hand mentioned that he’d love to his island training full time, so I took the opportunity and asked him to move in with me— I mean, to Islandtown. After everything that had happened between us, I thought perhaps I came on a bit too strong, but he answered in the affirmative. Antonio, sweet, sweet, Antonio, is going to be part of my village once again!

Despite all the bad things that happened today, I can rest easy knowing my favorite animal is going to be with me.

Day 13

Graham was the first one to move in today, but Antonio will be here tomorrow! I’m so excited! Audie and I got together and talked about it all morning. It was funny because she was watching a romance movie the day before and had an inkling something special might happen!

But sadly, poor little Stitches was sick today! I immediately ran over when Kitt told me the news and brought him some medicine. He was feeling a lot better afterward, but I told him he should still rest inside for the day.

I proceeded from there to go to the Town Hall as Tom Nook had requested for my assistance — MY assistance, not Isabelle’s… Okay, Isabelle’s too. Ugh.

If you think for one second that I’m your task force you’ve got another thing coming…

Anyway, the two of them asked me to keep inviting new residents to live in our town. Easy enough! I knew plenty of people from back home who would love to live here! I called up my girl Whitney from back home and invited her to camp out with us here on the island. I figured we’d hang out a bit and then I’d ask her about moving in.

She was thrilled when I called her and came over immediately. We had such a good time catching up, it’s been so long! These past few days have been overwhelming me with emotion with so many familiar faces.

However, when I mentioned that Whitney should move to Islandtown, she didn’t say no, but she didn’t quite feel ready yet. I get it. Citytown is a great place. I mean, it’s less great now that I’m not mayor anymore, but it’s still pretty cool. I’ll invite her over again after she’s thought it over a bit.

Oh! With my garden doing so well, I decided to set up my own little flower shop right outside my house. I stood there for three hours today and not a single customer. Mabel, I applaud your patience and durability.

I was hoping to raise a bit of money through this stand to set up a bridge. You see, when I picked a spot for Antonio’s house to be, I didn’t realize he had no connection to the other parts of the island. It was imperative that I got this bridge funded and finished by tonight. Luckily I had some help from friends to donate enough bells for the project to be completed. It took a lot of hard work and a lot of fishing…

But it will all be worth it. Tomorrow, my prince charming moves to town.

A Residents Representatives work is never done! With so many tasks to complete and more residents moving in, how will our solo human villager handle the heat? Read the New Leaf Diaries first here! Start from NH Diaries part 1: Permanent Island Getaway…

#Animal Crossing #Animal Crossing New Horizons #Diaries #Fan Fiction #Gaming #New Horizons #Nintendo #Parody

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fromtheringapron · 4 years

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Royal Rumble ‘90 Fan Picks: A Review

Last year, I graded promos of the participants in the 1990 Royal Rumble match. It was a super fun time, but we’re not done with all the early ‘90s goodness yet. While the pre-match promos are an excellent piece of character work, the more enlightened among us would know they weren’t the only ones who went public with their thoughts on that day’s event. If you owned the Coliseum Home Video release (which I assume would be everyone), you’d see an exclusive segment where the fans in attendance give their picks on who’s going to win.

Needless to say, this is an utterly delightful segment. It’s a raw, honest look into what human beings were like at the start of the ‘90s. Years and years from now, when we’re all dead and buried, this will be in a time capsule as one of our last vestiges to a particular time in history. Also, thankfully, it’s a glimpse into the absurd mark-dom of early ’90s wrestling fans, unblemished by Internet snark and social media savvy. Their thoughts are pure and ridiculous and perfect for riffing all at once. Bless them all.

Anyway, let’s take a look and see who the masses in Orlando thought would go all the way in the Rumble 30 slappin’ years ago:

The Man in Black: We start with a fairly boring young man who thinks The Ultimate Warrior is going to win because of his strength and wrestling experience. Um, okay? About as basic and unimaginative as his opinion is his fashion sense. Entirely draped in black, could easily be mistaken for one of those goths who popped up around the mid ‘90s for the Undertaker. Also, what’s up with the Canon shoulder strap? Surely he must’ve taken some photos. I want live photos to surface of Saaphire striking Queen Sherri mid-slap. I demand it.

Potential Murder Suspect: Honestly, I don’t know whether to find this dude endearing or creepy. The tone of his voice says fun and flamboyant, but the eyes being covered by those massive sunglasses gives me the heebie jeebies. What are you hiding from us, my dear sir? Anyway, he says Hulk Hogan will win because of his 24-inch pythons. His next TV appearance, I’m guessing, was on America’s Most Wanted.

Fighting Frat Bros: So next we get two guys who just came from the nearest keg party to argue over whether Hogan or Warrior will win. I’m not sure if the producers forced them to do this to hype WrestleMania VI, but I will say you can’t possibly script some frat dude saying the Warrior will win because he’s “a monster wrestler.” The pro-Hogan one of the pair argues the Hulkster will because of, you guessed it, his 24-inch pythons. People in 1990 were really fascinated with the pythons. Neither bro is the star of this bit, however. That honor instead belongs to the the clueless dude in the Bret Hart shirt behind them looking totally befuddled and seems to have wandered to the Orlando Arena by accident. What a gem.

Most Hated Woman in America: Literally all this women says is that Mr. Perfect is gonna win the Rumble to get absolutely crapped on by everyone around her. She was then presumably disowned by her family off-camera. Also, she’s wearing a Hulkamania shirt as she says this and it’s like, um, sis, whose side are you really on? The chorus of boos is led by a tie-dye clad fellow who seems to be under the impression he’s attending a Grateful Dead concert.

Smarky Smarks: Ugh. Look at these smug little shits. You just know they get off telling all the marks about the latest Meltzer scoops from the Wrestling Observer. Give it 10 years and these would probably be the same dudes on the Net ranting about how Taka Michinoku and Dean Malenko should be main eventing WrestleMania, could wrestle The Rock out of his boots, blah blah blah. They pick Mr. Perfect to win because of course they do.

Our Lady Peace: Wait, who’s this? Who is this sentient being arisen from hairspray and cigarette ash? She swoops in with the fervent call of I’M SORRY TO DISAGREE WITH YA that immediately swallows our smark bros whole. She asserts that Jake The Snake is going to win. This queen has rescued us from their nauseating self-satisfaction with her tried and true Jake fandom. Ma’am, if you’re still bopping around south Florida somewhere, you’re a hero. Maybe you still think Jake is gonna win the Rumble, I don’t know. We’ll always have this document of your good deeds to remember you by.

Bill Eadie’s #1 Fan: Easily the most random pick comes from this gentleman who, um, picks Demolition Axe because “he’s the only one that can beat Andre The Giant.” His friend appears to be on the verge of laughter. I can’t tell if this is a deliberate troll job by these dudes or what. Funnily enough, I could actually see Bill Eadie with some sort of cult following amongst smart fans who knew of his extensive pre-Demolition career, but as our Rumble winner? Come on now.

Hit Girl: So this youngster picks Bret Hart because “he’s really neat and has a good chance.” This is chilling to watch. She has no idea how hard her hero will disappoint her. He will fail, having his elimination barely on-camera. Her world view will become jaded. Years later, she will enact revenge on him and orchestrate the Montreal Screwjob. If you’re looking for the real mastermind behind it all, look no further. Vince was just the fall guy.

Shady Lady: This woman, who appears to have stolen Gorilla Monsoon’s glasses, predicts Roddy Piper is gonna win because “he’s got great legs, even if he does wear a skirt.” We’ll need to unpack this. First off, I really want to know how Piper’s gorgeous gams will lead him to victory, although if he came there to chew gum and kick some ass, the legs may help him out with that. Then, in the second bit of that statement, she suddenly turns heel. Even if he does wear a skirt? Is that shade? Did she take notes from Bobby Heenan? To go from thirsting after Hot Rod to dragging him in a single promo is some legend shit. The Attitude Era began right here.

Silver Fox: Wait, so this guy clearly works at the arena, right? Look at how he’s dressed. There’s a name tag there but, alas, the Orlando sun leaves me unable to read it. Anyway, he thinks “Jimmy Superfly” is gonna win because “he is the best.” And then he does a hilariously pathetic Jimmy Snuka impersonation, which I can only assume was so awful that he was fired from his Orlando Arena job later that day.

Pretty Fly for a White Guy: This guy never stops to catch his breath at any point during this bit. It kinda stresses me out. He thinks Randy Savage will win because the Royal Rumble is named after royalty and the only king is Savage himself. Clever reasoning, my dude! He then holds up a piece of abstract art resembling a sign. It’s supposed to depict Sherri, but we only get Sherri’s eyes looking directly into our souls. Fans in the early ‘90s were avant-guard trailblazers in their own way.

Saaphire’s #1 Fan: This child picks Dusty Rhodes to win because “he’s got a really good manager.” That manager, as if I need to remind you, is Saaphire, who isn’t a manager and is actually a crazed Dusty fan who was picked from relative obscurity. It’s so easy to mock this, but I appreciate the pure innocence in his answer. Plus, I like the idea that Saaphire has this amazing wrestling savvy to bring Dusty to the winner’s circle. Did you know that Saaphire invented the Canadian Destroyer and the Spanish Fly?

And that’s a wrap. Woof, what a segment. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. So, who do you think will win this year’s Royal Rumble? I’m picking Demolition Axe. After all, he’s the only one that can beat Brock Lesnar.

#wwe network #royal rumble #wwe #'90s #'90s nostalgia

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writerman · 5 years

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idk if u still take barduil prompts but if you do! here’s one: person A is the first person to pray to a particular god/spirit/whatever in a few hundred years, so the god/spirit(person B) shows up to personally answer the prayer and then refuses to leave until the prayer is answered in full - bonus points if person B figures out texting (A sets out an offering of wine as part of their deal with B and gets a text from an unknown # complaining about the vintage) also extra bonus for use of emojis

I AM ETERNALLY SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. IT’S JUST I GOT CARRIED AWAY AND IT GOT VEEERY LONG AND OTHER STUFF HAPPENED.

ANY WAY....

Just to confirm how long this is... It’s a 10k prompts response and I honestly hope you enjoy it.

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

Bard tossed the letter onto the countertop a sour look on his face as he did so.

He wasn’t sure if he could handle any further rejection, with the growing pile of letters from failed applications mocking him as they lay innocently on the countertop in the tiny kitchen; just what would it take to turn things around?

If it wasn’t jobs it was people, Bard couldn’t seem to catch a break when it came to dating either… though recently he hadn’t really tried. His ego could only take so much before he learned the lesson of humility and just gave up.

The cosmos was clearly working against him, and if any deities existed, well, they absolutely had it in for him.

With a bank account almost always in the red and his love life being the punchline to his joke of a life, Bard was finding it hard to get out of bed in a morning.

Thankfully, though he really did not feel good about the situation, his money woes were only something he had to contend with. His children were well taken care of with their mother, and while he would have been overjoyed to have had them live with him after the divorce, it just wasn’t feasible.

The reality was that he just could not afford to take care of the kids on the meagre salary he was on, a delivery driver for a pizza place was nothing to brag about and the majority of the time Bard found himself being the oldest one delivering pizzas, a blow to his already low self-esteem.

While he knew he could survive (just) on packet noodles, coffee and the odd free pizza here and there, he knew his children couldn’t, and while they would have thought it was fantastic, Bard could never allow it to be their reality.

With these thoughts still swirling in his mind, Bard grabbed up his keys and, with what little cash he had, left the house for the day. The sunshine beating down on the pavement lifted his spirits already and with the sound of the city as his music he headed toward the park.

Getting out would do him wonders, it was better than sitting around moping in the tiny apartment using utilities he could scarcely afford. At least out in the city he had more chances of bumping into friends or even the future Mrs Bowman… who knew?!

The city park was the perfect place to be in the summer, people spent their entire weekend there walking with their dogs, rowing on the lake or just sitting in the sun chatting idly with friends and family. It eased Bard’s worry to see the residents of the city out delighting in the summer days, it was likely they all had their own concerns- but out in the sun, the world seemed more carefree worries were pushed to the back of minds in favour of gossip and jokes.

At first, he had planned to take the route around the lake, but the sheer amount of people crowding on the banks and walkways had him take a left turn into the wooded area instead.

Bard and the kids had walked these paths many times, sometimes going off the trails in hopes of finding an undiscovered area- much to the children’s displeasure, they never found anything new. Sometimes the odd squirrel but nothing to write home about.

So engrossed in thoughts of his children and their time together it took Bard quite some time to realise he was now on a very unfamiliar trail, and for a good 30 minutes or so had not passed a single soul nor could he now hear the sounds of the park behind him.

For a moment he did consider turning back, the sun now barely filtered through the tree canopy high above his head, the shade was chilly. Logic kicked in not seconds later, and he pushed on, after all, this was just a seemingly tame adventure. He was in the park the only thing that could happen to him would be that he’d get locked in at night and sleeping in the park in summer didn’t seem all that bad.

What he stumbled upon next was startling.

The dense trees broke, and Bard stepped into the clearing before him. There stood tall and proud towering above him and past the tree line was a temple.

He couldn’t recall right then if he’d ever noticed a building in the park like this one before. Though the pristine white stone and dark curling ivy over the columns would be hard to miss.

The entire place was fascinating already from the outside! All this before he'd even stepped inside, without hesitation, he hurried up the steps to an intricately decorated archway and pushed aside the leafy tendrils of ivy over the entryway and walked in.

He was greeted with the sight of hundreds of lit white candles dotted about the room some nearly completely melted while others looked as though just freshly lit and yet, so far, there didn’t seem to be anyone else around.

His eyes roamed the room taking in more and more as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. There may have been candles but the place was so intensely dark, even the light they gave off seemed to be sucked into the darkness. There was a stone platform at the back covered in fresh cut flowers, and more candles, and as he moved toward it he noticed coins glittering under the golden light of the flames.

He faltered for a moment and wondered if he was trespassing during a sacred moment.

Nothing made a sound as Bard stood waiting and listening for any minute sound that may give away there was someone with him. After a moment or two of silence, Bard figured he was alone and proceeded to wander over to the platform.

It was set up more like a stage, there were 3 stone steps up to the platform itself and there were 4 exposed beams set up in a square above it, a golden hand censer hung above swaying lightly while incense smoke poured from it, though Bard felt inexplicable terror at the fact the thing was swinging in a non-existent breeze.

One of the steps had a brass plaque set into the stone, not unlike some points of interest that cities often had to commemorate a moment in history.

This one simply said:

State your wish.

A deep hearts desire.

Symbolise your worship.

A gift of thanks.

Pray to this God.

Or Beg.

Ominous.

Though it took no time for Bard to realise that this was all very likely a tourist trap rather than an actual temple built to praise an ancient God. Even if it was all awe-inspiring, it seemed a waste as there did not appear to be many visiting.

Still, he couldn’t deny that the place was beautiful and he surveyed the room again. It wasn’t huge, absolutely not big enough for any sort of Sunday congregation, so he assumed it was something more in line with Pagan worship. His eyes drifted up towards the ceiling, there were long thin stained glass windows high above him letting in very little light, though with what sun that managed to shine through he could see scenes depicted as just like any place of worship he had seen before- well more reminiscent of Christian places of worship but still…

Oddly enough, he didn’t recognise the scenes, nor the Gods or people immortalised in the striking colours above him- but then he wasn’t well read on any one religion, and to some, it could have been ridiculously obvious who and what this was all about.

Regardless, the glass was beautiful, and Bard found himself staring up at a blue-eyed gaze for quite some time- such an engaging face for something created out of glass and metallic salts.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to humour whoever built this and say a prayer. My life can’t get any worse.” His voice was a whisper, this whole place filled him with a trembling sort of dread as though his soul knew something he did not and a shudder shook through him.

An offering, if he wanted the God to even consider his words Bard would need to leave an offering of some sort. There were plenty of flowers already-- he didn’t really have anything that could be classed as an offering, after all, who came out for the day prepared to leave a gift to an ancient God?

Digging around in his pockets he found the spare change he’d left with that morning, it wasn’t much, but surely it was something. Something was always better than nothing… sometimes.

Without any further hesitation, Bard moved away from the steps back toward the platform itself, he dropped the coins onto the dusty stone before him.

The clattering sound of metal on stone echoed around the room. Bard jolted back at the jarring sound as it broke the reverent silence of the temple, his body tense as he waited as though the noise could wake the God and it would appear terrible and wrathful before him.

Nothing happened.

Candles flickered around him as he moved away from the offering stone, his eyes moved to the stained glass momentarily before his gaze shifted to the walls- ah! Another plaque- this one was set into the wall adjacent to the platform.

Bard navigated his way through the candles until he was close enough to read the sign.

Temple of the Forest Guardian.

Thranduil the Benevolent.

God of the Greenwood and protector of all within his realm.

The sole ruler of the vast and beautiful forest known as the Greenwood. Thranduil lived to serve and protect his people and all manner of living creatures that resided within his realm.

So well loved was he that upon his death the Gods of his people gifted him with eternal life and a magic to ease the suffering of many. When he awoke his people were overjoyed, and they lived for many years in the peaceful land.

Over time the numbers of his people dwindled this left the God to care for the forests alone with nought to speak with, only that which could not speak in return.

How many times had Bard read a story like this?

“Still a lonely life for a God- having eternal life and watching your people die from old age…” It was horrible and would drive anyone mad with grief.

It was only then that Bard realised how cold it was despite the myriad of candles that haloed him in a golden light. While shivering, Bard made the decision to offer a prayer and a wish- like his earlier thoughts, there was nothing more he could lose from trying.

Back at the platform Bard arranged the coins taking care not to touch the stone itself, he felt as though it was only polite not to touch anything that did not belong to him.

With a deep breath, he stood tall and uttered a prayer in an awe-filled whisper.

“Guardian of the forest, here my words… uh… I gave an offering so that you might not be lonely, I wish the same for myself. Help me find the right path and lead me to love and wealth. Thank you.” It was startling how right it felt to say such things, and how little embarrassment he experienced as he spoke. His wish had been for love and, but honestly, he just wanted someone there with him.

His divorce had been, thankfully, smooth and relatively pain-free aside from having to come to terms with the fact his wife wanted a quick divorce so she could marry another.

There were no ill feelings for his wife in Bard’s heart, he did not want to stand in the way of love and what they had was true love. It was just that he was now alone and at that moment he was painfully aware of it, growing up and getting married was what he wanted and not once had he ever imagined being prepared to lose that- you cannot prepare yourself for that.

He remained in the dark temple for some time lost in thought letting the incense soak into his clothes and letting the candles bathe him in their light- it was such a beautiful place, but he had to leave.

The light of the day would fade eventually and navigating through the dark woodland with only a phone light was not on his list of fun ideas for the summer. Secretly, he admitted to himself that wandering through the woods at night scared him, the sound of twigs snapping metres behind him when he had been sure he was alone just screamed horror movie.

With that thought in mind, Bard pushed himself to leave and stepped back into the clearing, the sun still fought to break through the canopy above him and Bard had to shield his eyes as he glanced up noting the sun was still high in the sky.

Birds sang from tree branches, the chorus a sweet and beautiful sound but jarring after the silence of the temple. His senses were overwhelmed by the outside world, so he took a minute to collect himself.

The rest of his day went by without incident, he headed out to his delivery job later that evening and eventually fell into bed just after midnight irritated by what life threw at him.

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

It was the smell of coffee that woke him later that morning. The alluring aroma forced him to open his eyes, he was greeted with the white ceiling of his bedroom above him.

Imaging the taste of coffee helped him fight off the last vestiges of sleep as he sat up stretching out his back to ease the ache of having a terrible and cheap mattress.

It was odd though, Bard didn’t remember buying any coffee recently- he was fresh out of cash for that luxury because like an idiot he left it at that tourist trap temple the day before.

Whoever had made coffee in his apartment- THERE WAS SOMEONE IN HIS APARTMENT!

Bard shot out of bed and bolted down the hall to the kitchen, he skidded to a halt at the threshold and stared at the stranger who was stood holding a Starbucks cup looking decidedly unimpressed by his surroundings.

In a split second their eyes were on Bard, and the cup was offered out to him.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

They didn’t speak Bard took this opportunity to try and organise his thoughts into some semblance of coherent, it wasn’t going well. A strange man was stood in his kitchen offering him coffee, a strange man with startling bright eyes and white blond hair… a strange, and handsome man.

Realising that he was staring openly at the trespasser, Bard lowered his eyes but not before he caught the blond smirking at him. Anger finally boiled up along with the courage to speak and look at the stranger, however as he opened his mouth he was instantly cut off as the home invader spoke.

“Pitiful offering for this day and age but it was enough to buy a mocha if you want it?” Bard hadn’t expected the man’s voice to be so deep and smooth. So taken aback by the sound of it he momentarily forgot his anger and stood wide-eyed and if not a little bit stirred up.

“Who the Hell are you and how did you even get in here?!” He’d found his voice again, though it was difficult not to shriek and in stifling such his words came out weirdly garbled all the while he stayed rooted to the spot by the kitchen door that led back into the hallway.

An escape route?

“They always ask how I got in and not why I came in the first place. Honestly, humans never change. I do not know why I assume they ever will…” The blond spoke quietly as though speaking to another out of view.

Bard hoped with all that he was that there was no other there and that he was not outnumbered.

The odd way he spoke, referring to people as humans- what did he mean by that?

The stranger offered out the coffee again slowly tilting from left to right as though trying to coax a small animal from a hole. Bard frowned, and yet he stepped further into the kitchen and took the still warm cup.

Every instinct within him screamed for him not to drink from the cup, his last act of self-preservation failed, and he took a sip. It was what the man had said it’d be… a mocha from Starbucks.

This seemed to please the stranger as he moved from behind the counter that had once separated them. Bard watched wearily as the last barrier between them was removed. He was approached by the blond though he didn’t appreciate having to look up a little, so they were, somewhat, eye to eye.

Bard reflexively took a step back.

“Allow me to introduce myself as you seem worryingly unaware of who I am.”

“You’re a madman that broke into my house to give me coffee.”

The snappy response from Bard left the other laughing aloud and beamed down at the burnet as though he was the sun and Bard felt a blush creep up his neck.

Beautiful laugh, beautiful hair, beautiful eyes… urgh.

Pushing aside such thoughts Bard ignored the panic rising in his chest and continued to challenge the man by looking him in the eye unflinchingly.

“Well, you were the one that invited me to help you. You invited me in and asked me to help you with your wish, did you not?”

Silence fell around them as Bard let those words sink in, oh how smug they sounded, his stomach felt like ice… was this the God he had prayed to yesterday?

“Are you…. Thranduil?” No, he couldn’t be because Gods were not real and that temple was just a joke for park-goers to enjoy ‘discovering’ while out with their kids!

“Guardian of the forest and all within it, a pleasure to meet you, Bard.” That velvety tone again- wait, how long had he been in his apartment if he had had time to snoop around and find out his name?!

If he was a God, he didn’t need to check someone’s mail to know their name. Bard felt as though his legs would give away without a seconds notice as he tried in vain to make sense of anything that was happening.

“Shall we speak on why I am here?” Thranduil asked gently he put a hand to Bard’s shoulder and steered him to a chair at the tiny dining area in his kitchen and made him sit down. “You asked me to help you, you’re looking for wealth and love- but ah, before I forget, I must thank you that regardless of your wish you included me in your thoughts. While it does feel as though your thought was born from pity, I shall not look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever the saying is…” He trailed off and watched as Bard silently assessed his situation; there was a far off look in his eyes, and Thranduil found him strangely charming.

Meanwhile, Bard was using the power of repression to stomp down the gay panic that was steadily rising every time Thranduil spoke to him. It took a lot for him to steady his racing thoughts, and for a moment Bard believed he could very well still be dreaming; if it hadn’t been for the warmth of the drink still in his hand, he could have believed he was still sleeping soundly in his awful bed.

“I-if you’re that Thranduil guy, aren’t you unable to leave the forest, how are you here?” It had just slipped out and Bard he was quite surprised at himself for remembering such a small detail.

“I appear ready to grant you your heart's desire and you come out with this?!” Thranduil sounded tired as he spoke and just a little bit unimpressed at the question, and yet, with an overly dramatic flourish the God produced a map from thin air and spread it out over the table and gestured for Bard to lean in to get a better look.

He pointed a long pale finger at a spot on the map at the edge of what should have been the city park and gave Bard a pointed look.

“My temple, you see there in that large area of greenery?” His tone sounding incredibly patronising as his finger pressed harder at the spot on the map, he was definitely a little peeved with Bard but he kind of had right too.

Bard studiously forgot that the map had literally just appeared from nothing in front of his very eyes and instead looked at the spot with a nod- he had to avoid Thranduil’s pale blue gaze… there was something so otherworldly about it as though he had seen everything and had to endure it in silence for eternity.

It was frightening and thrilling all at once. Inwardly his mind was yelling for him to leg it out of the door and not look back until he was far, far away and yet he remained in his seat.

“Great, now can you see this point on the map that is the forest, so much forest you can scarcely comprehend it, that is your house. So, now you can ask me how I am here.”

Bard had the decency to look sheepish before he spoke eyes still on the map.

“You never left the forest, even if the trees are no longer there it would still be your forest, right?” He felt awful because humans were definitely the reason the once vast forest was now stuffed into the corner of a city park and fenced in wrought iron. “Sorry…” He mumbled.

For a split second Thranduil looked genuinely touched at Bard’s apology though it didn’t last long and his expression turned grim as he turned to look back down at the map. It was a long time before he spoke again and when he did his voice was quiet and impossibly sad.

“I don’t know how you found the temple… I had thought it was hidden away well enough that humans would pass right by it and it would remain unseen, I know that defeats the object of helping others, but when those people want power, and I gave it, I found my forest getting smaller and smaller.

In the end, I sealed away the temple to save the forest, to protect it and yet… somehow you found it and, well, I am glad you did.” He said nothing more and the map faded into nothingness while Bard sipped his drink and Thranduil stared at the table top.

“You’re glad I came and dropped some pocket change in offering and asked for romance?” It truly sounded funny when put like that and Thranduil smiled to himself before he huffed out a quiet laugh.

“You’re the first person is a long time who came in gave an offering, made your wish and didn’t touch anything. You took in the room and appreciated it before leaving.”

“You like to keep things simple, I see.”

“Well, when you get to be as old as I am you enjoy things being simple, you know; quiet worship, incense… Starbucks.”

“So why did you buy me coffee, the offering was for you, this should be your drink.” Bard set the near-empty cup down on the table and watched as Thranduil gestured to a trash can, another cup lay innocently on top of a badly folded up pizza box.

“I had other stops on my way before I got to you. Plus, I thought it would help in getting you to trust me if I came bearing a gift of coffee, human’s love this stuff early in the morning and you seem to be of no exception to this observation.”

Well, that was fair, it was true. Bard craved coffee all the time it was clearly an addiction, but this one was, for some reason, socially acceptable.

He offered Thranduil a shrug as if to say ‘I don’t know what to tell you.’.

“Anyhow, we’re deviating from the actual reason I am here. As the God Thranduil, I am here to grant your wishes and your desires.” If he had been expecting whoops of adoration from someone he was in for a shock, however, Bard couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed by the man. He was also horrified at how easily he had accepted that this man was a God with just some sleight of hand magic anyone could do.

Bard found him genuinely charming, he was well spoken and transparent in his reasoning for certain actions and open about his past, there was the coffee too, that helped a lot. If this had been a first date, Bard would be smitten - a date with a woman! NOT a man… no not a man- not this man.

With a jerky motion, Bard slapped his hand to his chest over his frantically beating heart and took a deep breath hoping to calm himself down.

“So, you’re going to help me find a girlfriend?”

“Or boyfriend.” Came the pointed reply.

Bard flushed nearly scarlet. “Ah, no, just girlfriend.”

“I see, so you cannot look me in the eye because…?”

“I wished for a girlfriend, so I get a girlfriend.”

“Actually, you wished for romance. Just so you know, I cannot make people fall in love with you, I can set you up in an ideal situation to meet someone, this does not necessarily mean it would be a woman…” Thranduil offered the burnet an innocent smile and shrugged though it didn’t seem to calm the other down. “Well, this seems like a touchy subject so let us move on, and we can have a chat about wealth. This is easily done, but some specifics on how you would like it to happen would be welcome. A mysterious windfall cannot just be explained away by saying you were lucky enough to win the lottery. It also depends on how rich you want to be.”

“That’s the thing,” Bard exclaimed as he turned in his seat, so he was fully facing the God. “I don’t want to be a millionaire or anything. I want a job that pays well enough for me to get out of this apartment and enough so that the courts will allow me to see my kids for more than a few hours a week.” His emotions were seesawing from one to another, the excitement building in him was tempered by nerves and just how this man was going to help him pull this off without causing a stir.

“The thing I want more than anything is to be a teacher, to use my degree in art and history and help kids learn. I know it seems strange to say I want to teach and not be in a teaching job with all the listing- there's a bloody outcry for teachers, but I just can’t catch a break my interviews are always awful- urgh, that’s only if I actually get one!”

Thranduil was stunned at just how alive Bard became when he spoke about teaching when he spoke about living his life. This man wanted to get out of a rut and give something to the world, even if it was small he wanted to educate people and people with a good education could change the world.

This man inadvertently told him he wanted to change the world.

“I can help you with that; get you set up with a nice private school job or just any teaching job and who knows, you could end up meeting someone there.” It was easy for Bard to accept Thranduil’s words as he was saying everything he wanted to hear, that and he was happy just to have someone that wanted to help even if nothing came of it.

The phone on the countertop began ringing and Bard dove across the room grabbing the receiver from the cradle; when he looked back, Thranduil had gone leaving no sign he had ever been there besides the Starbucks cups.

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

His ex-wife had called explaining that Sigrid was unwell, too unwell to go to school and she needed someone to take care of her while everyone was out at work. Bard readily agreed and headed over as soon as the call ended.

On the drive over he had time to think on all that had happened that morning, how his life could change for the better. Also, how he had to do some soul searching and some internet research because the feelings that beautiful God stirred up could not be contained and Bard did not like it one bit.

He would leave things be for now. There were more precious issues to deal with like his sick daughter and the time he would get to spend with her that day.

Sigrid crawled into the back of the car in her pyjamas wrapped in a blanket she brought from her room. Bard felt awful for her, she was pale and sluggish barely able to keep her eyes open as she greeted him before lying over the back seat.

Driving home was slow going but when they did get to the apartment Bard set Sigrid up on the sofa and propped her up with pillows and wrapped her up in another blanket. Keeping her warm was a priority now he had to try and get her to eat.

She had already dozed off so Bard took the opportunity to pop out and grab a can of chicken noodle soup, it had always been her favourite when she was sick and he hoped it would still be her favourite so that he could entice her to eat.

When he returned to the apartment can of soup in hand he paused in the hall, there was a familiar voice coming from the lounge, a very deep and velvety voice that Bard had grown accustomed to all too quickly.

Sticking his head around the door he found Thranduil sat on the floor by the sofa reading to Sigrid, her attention solely on him as he read aloud from a book of old fairy stories Bard had kept from when she was small.

Bard knew he should have been furious that Thranduil had broken into his home again but he could see Sigrid was comforted by the story and it allowed him to make the soup without worrying she might need him for something.

Thranduil was gone when Bard returned with the soup, he didn’t mention him and he refused to address the feeling of disappointment that the God had left again without even speaking to him.

“Da, that man that was here…” Her voice was rough from all the coughing but it didn’t stop the apparent tone of curiosity coming through as she eyed him between bites of her soup, which he urged her to continue eating. If she was eating she wasn’t asking questions about Thranduil that he may not be able to answer.

“That man that was here,” Bard repeated quietly, his gaze not meeting his daughters as he studied his hands intently-- so few words from her and yet he felt he was on trial.

“I’ve never heard you speak about him before, he said you were friends, how did you meet him?” There it was, the question he had been dreading because he couldn’t lie to her because he was terrible at it, she would see right through him.

“Yeah, new friend. Nice guy, we met recently he’s doing me a huge favour.”

“What kind of favour?”

Did she have to sound so suspicious?!

“He’s helping me get a job.” It wasn’t a lie but he left it very bare of any further detail, and he hoped it was enough to sate her curiosity.

When he looked over she was already falling asleep again and he caught the empty soup bowl before it fell from her hands. Well, that was one way to avoid answering any questions.

He got up making sure to tuck Sigrid in properly before heading to the kitchen to wash up. Bard half expected Thranduil to be there when he entered the kitchen but there was no trace of him.

In fact, he didn’t see Thranduil again for three days.

Eventually, Bard became impatient and went to the temple leaving a bottle of wine he bought using tip money from his job.

Setting the bottle down on the platform Bard spoke his prayer, which was far less elegant than last time.

“So, Thranduil are you still going to help me, I really need to know if you can or not because I’m seriously concerned I just let a madman into my home and believed he could grant fantastical wishes. Anyway, enjoy the wine.” With that, he left and headed out to his delivery job- job was a job even if he wasn’t pleased about it.

Midway through his shift, his phone buzzed and several text messages came through at once.

[UNKNOWN] *green faced emoji* This wine is terrible!

[UNKNOWN] How much was this?! An awful offering you should be ashamed.

[UNKNOWN] *cry face emoji* I know I am being ungrateful but it’s so awfuuuull!!

There could be only one person texting him like this, and with a sigh, Bard began composing a reply. Before he could even start typing another set of messages came through.

[UNKNOWN] Your prayer was lacking the reverence it held the first time. Also I am absolutely offended you questioned my power.

[UNKNOWN] IN ANY CASE!!! I am helping you, things take time, Bard! *Tongue sticking out emoji*

Supposedly, he was to trust this man…

With a shrug, Bard pocketed his phone then had a near-fatal heart attack when a pale hand smacked the driver’s side window.

“I cannot believe you just ignored my messages!”

Thranduil.

Winding down the window Bard gave an apologetic smile while Thranduil huffed and puffed about being ignored for a little while longer.

“You want me to apologise for being too poor to buy you good wine?”

“...No… but a response would have been nice. No wonder you’re so unlucky in love, is this how you treat all the texts you receive?” The fact that Thranduil could and did text was far too funny to Bard and he burst into peals of laughter. Eventually, he calmed down and leaned out of the car window a little.

“You’re genuinely the first person to text me in months, sorry.”

Thranduil didn’t respond, his expression was soft now, and his eyes seemed filled with a sadness that had been harboured within him for thousands of years. For a moment Bard saw the God searching for something, perhaps words to ease the tense feeling that now surrounded them or an excuse to leave him…

“Can I get in?” The blond asks quietly, he waits for Bard to nod before walking around the car and climbing into the passenger seat having to nearly fold himself in half to seat himself properly.

Feeling generous Bard leaned over Thranduil as best he could, his chest against the other’s legs as he did so, and pulled the lever that pushed the seat back. Once it was far enough back for Thranduil to unfold himself Bard sat up and started the car.

“Let’s drive and you can tell me what you have planned for me.” He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, and his blood roaring in his ears. Nothing was alright, nothing was fine because he was very aware of how attractive he found Thranduil but he had no idea how to handle such feelings.

“Ah…” Thranduil stalled a moment and Bard was surprised to see him looking pink-cheeked and, somewhat, flustered as they slowly slid under street lamps that lined the roads into the centre of town. “Send off an application to the school of your choice, all will work out there without a hitch. Are you not more interested in finding this one true love of yours?”

That stopped Bard short. He couldn’t lie, he hadn’t thought about it since he last spoke to Thranduil; so lost in the idea of getting a job it seemed romance had fallen by the wayside.

Was he still looking for love?

When the wish was uttered he had been feeling hopeless and lonely, but with Thranduil popping up at random times he found that he was not so sad about being alone. The fact he would be getting a job soon; would he even have time for romance?

“Let’s just focus on getting me a job, you said yourself I might meet someone there.” He tried to brush the subject under the carpet as casually as he could. There had to be something else he could talk about- Thranduil.

The God probably never got to talk about himself.

“So, I know my daughter could see you but are you ever only able to be seen by the person making the wish?” Was he visible to only himself right now, was Bard driving along in his car talking to himself?

“I can’t do that invisible to everyone but one thing, I am either visible to all or I am not.”

“So you just walk around dressed like that all the time?” Bard asks gesturing to the long white robes Thranduil was currently wearing, they were beautiful but they made him stand out in a crowd. “As if you need another reason for people to be staring at you.” These words were spoken under his breath but oh Thranduil had heard them and how his face glowed and a slow smile began to form on his lips almost feline his bright eyes on Bard.

“Oh ho, what sweet words you do whisper to me, where did this bravado come from?” There was a purr in the blond’s voice, that smug purr when an ego was stroked without prompting.

Bard kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut, lips tightly sealed as he mentally scolded himself-- he had to reign himself in that comment had slipped out and for a hot second Bard wondered if it had even been him that had spoken. Of course, it had been but it had just come so naturally… flirting with this man should not have come so easily to him.

Though, he supposed it was good practise for when he met the woman that could potentially be his future wife.

If he could stomach the idea of marriage again.

It was the least appealing act he could imagine in that current point of his life, he did not want a replay of his first marriage.

It wasn’t all bad but heartache takes a long time to heal and Bard had never quite forgotten the feel of it, even if it was just the ghost of an ache in his chest now.

Bard pulled up outside of the pizza place and cut the engine, Thranduil was looking out of the passenger side window but he looked back toward Bard when he realised they’d stopped moving. Nothing was said about their conversation not minutes before, Thranduil had the good sense to drop the sound of crowing joy from his voice when he spoke again.

“The girl that works at the counter likes you… a lot.” They both looked over toward the pizza place, they could see a red-headed woman at the counter, well, she was barely in her 20’s and Bard’s insides squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of dating her.

“She’s 20 years old or something, I’m 37 that’s... Thranduil, she’s a baby.”

“Ahaha, do not get the wrong idea. I meant only that you are desirable to many, the woman at your local supermarket that works the help desk, she thinks you’re utterly fantastic. The point I am making is that- I know you are hesitant about being with another person and that you believe yourself to be the bottom of everyone’s list but you’re not.

You’re the hero of your own story and the heartthrob in someone else’s. While you see yourself as…” He pauses as though trying to find the right words, “Oh how would you put it, ah yes! While you see yourself as a dork- yes, I think that’s right, other’s see you as sophisticated and even sexy.” Bard almost choked on air when Thranduil referred to him as sexy, though a wheezing and awkward laugh followed as he tried in vain to brush the comment off as nothing.

“I need to get back to work, but you keep talking utter nonsense about me while I deliver pizzas. I am up for a laugh tonight.” He exited the car while Thranduil frowned after him though he did not move from his seat and only watched Bard hurry into work to grab a stack of pizza boxes all ready to deliver.

They spent the night together delivering pizzas, Thranduil made a habit of coming to the door with Bard so they could continue their conversations, it resulted in Bard being tipped more than usual which he was thankful for even if he was not absolutely enamoured with the fact that Thranduil so was damned smug about it.

“I’ve still got it.” The blond stretched out in the car arching his back like a cat as much as he could in the cramped space, “I mean, I there was never a time I was ever led to believe I had lost it, but still tonight proves I am eye candy to ladies and gents in this day and age.” He glanced over at Bard as he said the word ‘gents’ but Bard was too busy checking his phone for more delivery requests.

“Go home, Bard. You need sleep and don’t forget to apply for the teaching job, I can’t help you if you do not meet me halfway.”

“Fine, fine, I suppose I can call it a night. The sheer amount of tips because…” He loathed to say it but pushed through even while Thranduil smirked victoriously, “...because you were around all night means I can go home early.”

“Hmm, it sounds good to hear you admit that.”

Thranduil vanished before Bard got home which was perfectly fine with him as he hadn’t really wanted that awkward goodbye with him, how did you ask a God to leave so you could get some sleep?

Thranduil had probably just known. In any case, he had been the one that insisted he go home and sleep.

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

Bard took it easy the next week, he filled out the job application online and sent it off as soon as he could then paced his kitchen floor for an hour fretting about the whole thing nearly calling out for Thranduil.

If he called would he come?

In the event that he truly needed the man he could just text him but once he had the job of his dreams would the blond retreat back into the shadows and close himself off from the human world?

Would he remain unheard once he had gotten all he had wanted from Thranduil?

What did Thranduil want in return for offering him a new life on a plate?

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

The call regarding the teaching job came late Friday afternoon. A meeting was scheduled for Monday morning and Bard had never felt such a seesawing of emotions as he hung up the phone.

An interview.

The opportunity to teach again. It had been so long since he had stood at the front of a classroom, the thought of teaching groggy teenagers in the mornings and trying to grasp their attention, it was a thrill and a challenge Bard absolutely needed and wanted.

Maybe an offering to the God he owed this to would bring him luck.

He tapped out a text asking if Thranduil was around.

The response was immediate.

[Thran] I might be…

[Thran] What do you need?

The tone came across as cold though he may have just been busy or Bard was reading way too into the message and it actually was just neutral because most of the time texts had no tone without some emojis or text speak.

[Thran] Don’t keep a man waiting!!

[Bard] Sorry!! You don’t have to be so impatient. I was worried I was bothering you.

[Thran] *Roll eye emoji* Doing what exactly? I’ve had no friends for 300 years.

[Bard] Okaaayy. I just wanted to know if I had to leave you an offering at the temple or if you would just prefer to come pick it up?

[Thran] …

[Thran] What do you have for me?

[Bard] You only seem interested when I have something for you.

[Bard] I’m joking. I was just going to cook for you, if you'd like that?

“Well, with an offer that generous how could I stay away?” The sarcastic drawl came from a spot very close behind Bard and he clenched his hands into fists as though it would stop his heart from beating right out of his chest.

“Can’t you at least try and walk through the door like a normal person?” Bard moaned as he turned to face the God. He was greeted by the blond in a relatively modern-looking outfit, his hair was in a long thick braid over one shoulder away from his face for once.

The clothing was what caught Bard’s eye, black jeans showing just how damned long Thranduil’s legs were paired with what looked like a very soft cashmere jumper in a dark forest green.

It was then Bard had to come to terms with the fact he was ridiculously attracted to the blond, though admitting it to himself would be as far he would go… could go. It didn’t seem feasible or even remotely possible that anything would come from this attraction.

Just more questions to keep me up at night… Bard offered Thranduil a crooked smile and gestured for him to take a seat at the tiny dining table.

“You look good, you suit a more modern look, is this you trying something new to bring in potential worshippers?” Bard moved around the kitchen grabbing ingredients from the fridge and a cutting board from the cupboard, when he looked over to Thranduil for an answer he found Thranduil sat staring at the table top looking very troubled.

“Are you ok?”

“Once you get your job teaching, I think it is best I no longer visit you, Bard.” His tone was resolute and while Bard wanted to argue he resisted. If this was to be how it was who was he to argue?

Hasn't that always been the case?

He had left offerings for this God to help him and then once the job was done he would leave. The problem was that now he thought about it he didn’t really like the idea of not seeing Thranduil again.

There would be nothing you could do to convince him… just agree and let him have his own way. There was a heavy feeling of unease in his stomach but he nodded set down the knife he had been holding.

“All right, if that is how it has to be.” Being in agreement with Thranduil left a tight feeling in his chest and he found he wasn’t really hungry any more. “Kind of putting a damper on dinner though.” At his words Thranduil stood up from the table he gave Bard a curt nod.

“Yes, I shall take my leave now. I hope you have everything you want now, Bard. It has been an experience getting to know you and your life. I am… I’m going to miss you. In the short time I’ve known you I have not laughed so much. Your company has truly been appreciated. Please, promise me that no matter how much you think you need to, do not look for me.” With that he vanished leaving Bard well and truly alone for the first time in 2 weeks.

“Well, fuck.”

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

The interview was a breeze and Bard started his job the following week. He was given an office and his own classroom.

The students were a boisterous lot but Bard found them all charming and brilliant in their own ways, even the troublemakers had won him over with their inventive backtalk. All in all, he loved it-- he was in love with his job and he finally felt he was taking a step forward in life rather than treading water.

Not only was working going great, but he also had someone take an interest in him, one of the admin staff at the school had asked him for coffee, it was casual but Bard definitely got the feeling it had been considered a date.

While he was genuinely ecstatic that someone wanted to get to know him and for there to be a chance of romance something didn’t feel right. Lydia was beautiful, pretty grey eyes and golden blonde hair that hung in natural curls down to her shoulders. Her smile was as sweet as her laugh but it didn’t nothing for him.

Some nights Bard would lie in bed staring up at the ceiling as car headlights from the street below threw shadows across his room, he would grip the bed sheets with both hands and force himself to think of something… anything… memories or even the day's events, just something to plug up the emptiness he felt inside.

What was wrong with him?!

After weeks of suffering through the ache of loneliness Bard made the conscious decision to break his promise to Thranduil and he headed out to the park to find the temple. He brought no offering only a quiet sort of fury he hadn’t realised he had been holding on to.

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

The sun was already low when Bard entered the park. Most people were packing their things away to leave, and no one seemed to notice a man in a shirt and tie heading for the woodland area at the back.

The trees felt oppressively close as Bard tried to find his way through them, even on the pathway he felt as though they were closing in on him, a warning for him to turn back but the warning went unheeded and the brunet pushed on with more purpose than before.

It felt as though it took an age to find the clearing again, and when he did Bard glanced up at the tree canopy to see the sky between the branches had faded from gold and orange to lilac and blue, the inky dark of the night slowly rolling in above him with no regard to the world below it.

Without any further distractions Bard entered the temple and was confronted by a furious looking Thranduil stood among the candles, they flickered violently as Bard entered the building, but it was the look on Thranduil’s face that stilled him.

Had he made a mistake?

“I told you not to do this, why can’t you just trust me?” For all the fury on his face, Thranduil’s voice was quiet no ire in his voice only sheer exhaustion. “Why couldn’t you have just gotten on with your life instead of haunting mine?!”

The stunned silence fell over them almost immediately and for a second Bard couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat, after a moment or two the roar of blood in his ears returned and brought him back to Earth.

Gods, he hurt, more than he had expected to when coming to the temple but Thranduil had sounded wounded and scared more than angry and Bard knew he couldn’t leave until he got to the bottom of the God’s odd behaviour.

“I wanted to see you, don’t I get to ask why you suddenly cut off all communication?”

“Why would you think I would tell you anything, do you think we’re friends?” Scathing, words intended to cut deep but Bard pressed on, he wasn’t leaving until he absolute knew Thranduil wanted nothing more to do with him for the rest of eternity.

“We could be friends-- what are you afraid of?”

The temple was plunged into darkness as every candle went out leaving Bard effectively blind, there was no time for him to let his eyes adjust to the dark, trusting his sense of direction he moved forward with confident strides one hand reaching out until it connects with the soft fabric of Thranduil’s robe.

“Answer me, why can’t we be friends?”

“Don’t… Bard, please.” The blond begged desperately a warm hand covered Bard’s as he pried open the burnet’s fingers releasing the fabric. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.” His voice shook as though fighting back intense emotions but Bard didn’t move and instead he grabbed the front of Thranduil’s robe again keeping a connection while still unable to make out the other in the pitch black.

“Is it… because I’m human?” The question came out a whisper, it was entirely possible that Thranduil had tried to hurt him to spare himself the pain of losing a friend to death. It didn’t make him feel any better knowing this could be the reason.

“Oh, Bard. Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone?” A pained response though there was a tired sort of exasperation colouring his tone, “But yes, I stopped seeing you because I realised how much I enjoyed your company and I could see you were fond of me. I was frightened to continue our friendship because I knew I’d lose you sooner or later.”

If Thranduil had not mentioned friendship it would have sounded like a confession of love, maybe he did love him but not in the way Bard thought he had… not in the way Bard had wanted him to.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have come here. I’ve made a mistake.” Hurried words as Bard released Thranduil at the same time moving back creating space between them, though the black void around them revealed nothing of how much space.

“I can’t fucking see… Thranduil I have to go. I’m sorry- having a friend like would have been great… I’m so sorry.” With that he stumbled back towards what looked to be the exit, the faint light clinging to the doorway showed him back out into the clearing.

Heaving air into his lungs Bard cursed himself under the stars before breaking out into a run into the darkness of the woods, he didn’t deviate from his path and soon he was back out in the open of the manicured grass lawns that were the city park.

A night shift security guard ushered him out and Bard flopped onto a bench on the street to gather his thoughts.

One thing he was positively sure of… He was definitely falling for Thranduil and Thranduil wanted nothing to do with him.

He couldn’t blame the God, Bard would age and die, he’d be a terrible friend regardless of how much he cared for him they just weren’t compatible. They couldn’t be friends, they couldn’t be anything and right then Bard wanted nothing more than to drain a bottle of wine.

So that’s what he did, on his walk home he stopped off at the store and bought a marginally better wine than the one he had given Thranduil then headed home and drank a bottle and a half of cheap red wine.

Strangely, it didn’t make him feel any better about the situation just regretful that he hadn’t fought to convince the God that they could continue to see one another. Bard was sure he could just be friend with Thranduil, this new found bisexuality was something he still had to learn about so taking things slow seemed the right idea… until he picked up his phone and started texting Thran.

[Bard] I bought better wine.

[Bard] Incase you r might be intrestd

[Bard] moght already be durnk

The room spun in a jerking fashion and Bard gripped his phone a little tighter in his hand just in case that would help- it didn’t but it was a valiant effort on his part.

The phone buzzed in his hand and Bard looked down to see a response to his messages.

[Thran] Stop drinking you’ll hurt yourself.

[Thran] Go to bed and sleep it off.

Giddy at the fact he’d enticed out a response out of the blond Bard set to responding, or at least he tried but the code on his phone was difficult to remember and being such a lightweight he was too drunk to realise that the code was literally 0000.

Eventually, after much cursing and many threats made to the device Bard managed to unlock it.

Another text had come through in the meantime.

[Thran] I’m sorry that things ended the way they did. You might be too drunk to read this properly and take it all in but… The reason I pushed you away is because…

[Thran] I am not doing this via text. Go to bed I will speak to you in the morning!

The sun shone bright and cheery into the lounge of Bard’s apartment and directly onto a now extremely groggy and hungover educator- his mouth felt like a desert and his head pounded feeling as though an elephant had tap danced on it all night.

Groaning he sits up still in his clothes from work the day before. Thankfully it was a blessed Saturday which meant Bard could suffer the consequences of his actions in relative peace. Well, that was until he padded into the kitchen the get water and he found Thranduil stood in the exact same place he had been when the first met.

Only this time he looked grim, was dressed like a modern man and was holding a glass of water out to Bard his eyes full of disapproval and smidge of sympathy.

“I thought seeing as I may have been the reason you got wasted drunk last night… it seemed only fair that I take care of your this morning.” Bard took the water but he winced as he moved and Thranduil looked mightily concerned when Bard went a shade paler than he had been before.

“Get into bed. I cannot believe how drunk you were ls night. You are so irresponsible!”

“I know, I know… you sound like my wife.” Bard joked as he hobbled down the hall holding his delicate body rigid as though that would save him from the never-ending waves of nausea that battered his entire being.

Never had he imagined that someone could feel sick right down to their toes, and yet here he was experiencing it with the least sympathetic man in all of creation standing over his bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, well if I were you wife you’d not be in this state.” Thranduil’s retort came out harsh at first but by the end of his sentence his voice had softened and he was sitting on the edge of the bed brushing Bard’s hair, that was plastered to his forehead, off his face. “If we were married you probably wouldn’t be very happy.” There was something hesitant about the way he spoke as though he had dared to dream of something so domestic as being married to someone.

“Would I be unhappy?” The brunet questioned, he elaborated when Thranduil gave him a searching look as though trying to fathom what on earth he was talking about. “How could a man be unhappy looking at someone as beautiful as you every day knowing that he was married and that they felt the same?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bard. You don’t know what you’re saying, you must still be drunk.” The God scoffed brushing off the compliment though now his cheeks were a faint pink and he was busying himself with ensuring Bard was comfortable but somehow doing it without looking at him.

“Would it be ridiculous, if two people care for another why can’t they be together?”

“Therein lies the problem, dear Bard. Both people have to have the same feelings.” Thranduil explained simply.

Bard frowned.

“Don’t you care for me?”

“Of course I do, it’s you- oh…”

“Oh, what?” He sits up though it was a mistake to do so as the room did a lovely turn for him and his stomach flipped with appreciation, Bard enjoyed none of this. “Thranduil, oh what?”

Thranduil merely offered him a satisfied smile, he took a cleansing breath and forced Bard to lie down again all the while deftly removing the man’s tie to save him from choking while he recovered.

“Rest and get over this hangover, I will be here when you wake up.” Leaning down he pressed a soft kiss to Bard’s forehead when he didn’t get a reaction he sat up about to huff and puff that his gesture should have been a huge sign to the other man.

However, before the words could leave his mouth he noticed the other was already flat out asleep.

“You, sir, are an idiot, but stars do I love you.”

#Thranduil #Bard #Barduil #The Hobbit #Prompt #10k words #bee-king-official

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lost-kinn · 5 years

Note

Fernweh+Quirrel?

Fernweh:The ache for distant places; the craving for travel.

“What is thatthing?” asks the merchant, pointing to the flat white ceramic disc tuckedunder Quirrel’s arm, before he even asks Quirrel’s name.

“It’ll bring you noharm, if that’s your concern,” says Quirrel.

“But what isit?” says the merchant again.

(Quirrel doesn’t know–)

Of course Quirrel knows. Heowns the thing. The flat white disc in question has four dots on it that hethinks looks like a face, but it can’t be a mask, since there’s no eyeholes.There is a depression for something along the bottom. “It’s myhat,” says Quirrel decisively–yes, it must be his hat; he feels thatthat’s (probably) absolutely the right answer. He fixes it to the top of hishead with his headscarf on the spot.

“Odd looking hat,”says the merchant.

“The world is far andwide and full of many strange sights and bugs. I’m sure it allows for a fewstrange hats, too.”

The merchant does not seem toshare Quirrel’s sense of humor. “I am Losot,” says the merchant.“And you are?”

When Quirrel tells Losot his name,Losot only nods and asks no more questions, and this is how it comes to be thatQuirrel acquires one of his first travelling companions.

Other travelers are not sotaciturn as Losot. It becomes customary to exchange a set of questions on thelong trails through the wilderness, things like: “Who are you?”“Where are you going?” (“Will you hurt or help me?” goesmore unspoken, but not unsaid.) When people ask questions, Quirrel knows thatif he plays his cards right, he could have a travelling companion for a time,and takes care with his answers. He considers himself fortunate that he has noreason to play his cards dishonestly for a little company.

The third companion is awoman making a long trek to join her sons in a distant land, where they’d leftto secure a living wage. But Quirrel knows she’s lying, more to herself thanQuirrel. Wherever her sons have gone to, the woman, deep in her heart, suspectsmisfortune. “And you?” asks the woman bravely. “Where are yougoing?”

(Quirrel doesn’t know–)

Quirrel certainly knows, orelse why would he on the road? “Wherever strikes my fancy,” he sayssimply. Yes, that must be right. He can’t think of a destination right now, sohe must be travelling without aim, like a few bugs he’s met so far. “I’man incorrigible traveler, it would appear. I’ve been to so many places, Ibelieve I may have forgotten them all.”

She laughs. “Keep yoursecrets, then,” she says.

Quirrel never does convinceher that he was telling the truth before they part ways, and when they do,Quirrel wanders under the night sky alone, hoping a stranger’s children are okay.

The seventh companions are agroup of miners looking for a fresh ore vein–or so they say, but they’re anawful long way from the last ore deposit, and how would they transport anythingthey mine without carts and steeds, anyway? Quirrel keeps these questions tohimself, for courtesy’s sake. They agree to keep Quirrel company on the roadeasily. “Always good to have a fighter in the group,” says theleader.

“Oh, no,” saysQuirrel. “I’m no fighter.”

“Y'sure? Y’ve got a nailand everything.”

Quirrel glances at it. Yes,well, you’d think that a bug carrying a nail around would be a fighter, if nota knight. It’s a perfectly logical assumption, and Quirrel can hardly blame theminer for it. “I’m quite sure,” says Quirrel.

“That’s a shame,”says the leader.

The group of miners try torob Quirrel in the middle of the night. Quirrel kills one and cripples anotherbefore they run off. Quirrel sighs, and wonders if there had been a peaceableway to resolve the situation, and leaves the abandoned wounded miner for thewild beasts to devour.

For the eleventh companion,Quirrel’s name is not enough. “But who are you?” the buginsists, without lowering the tip of her sea-green nail. This one, Quirrelthinks, is a proper fighter. Possibly even a knight.

“I’m but a simple traveler,”Quirrel tells her.

“I can see that. Anyonewho travels is a traveler. I ask not whatare you, but who are you?”

Quirrel looks down at himself.He’s got a nail, a bag of food, and his hat. “I’m only exactly what youand I can see,” says Quirrel. He prays that it will not come to blows.He’s not a fighter, after all.

But a second passes, and thewoman lowers the point of her nail. “How does it feel, being only exactlyas you appear?”

“I’ve never been anyother way. If you want a recommendation, I’m afraid I have no point ofcomparison.”

She laughs. A peacefulresolution, indeed.

The woman is named Fallow,and she is, indeed, a knight. “But it is of no importance anymore,”Fallow says, rather darkly, when they settle down over a campfire for thenight. “I was of a distant kingdom that has had its name stripped from it,and it lies nameless and dark. Only the circus lives there now, like carrionbirds feasting upon the corpses.”

“I had no idea that waswhat circuses did.”

Fallow sneers and refuses tospeak of it any further. But at Quirrel’s request, instead, she tells him ofher home as she remembers it: A vast plain, upon which the sun was hot enoughto kill and the nights were blessedly cool; during the day, the sun would meltthe sandy plains and the cool winds would turn them to glass, and the bugswould go aboveground to scavenge the day’s offerings. Sun tears, the glasspieces were called. Her nail was made of sun tears, she explained, which waslike no glass any bug could make–a fifty foot drop could not shatter thisglass, let alone the measly impact of piercing a bug’s shell. Her glass nailcould parry any nail of steel and more. Belowground, entire cities wereconstructed of glass alone, tall and glistening, of fiery reds and deep purplesand sea greens and the purest, clearest transparent panes, the sort of pureglass that made you wish your mind and soul could be so clear.

Deep in the glass towers hadbeen Fallow’s lord, a young debutante with thoughts of fancy. “She’d beenthe most ridiculous girl,” Fallow says, snorting. “She was convincedthat a bug without wings could achieve flight, if she built a contraption tomimic the wings of moths or bees. She only worked with pink glass. She wantedher wings to match her favorite outfit.”

“She soundswonderful,” says Quirrel.

“She was,” saysFallow. “She was an honor to serve.”

Quirrel notes the past tenseand changes the subject. “And what a miraculous kingdom, too.”

“You would have loved tosee it,” says Fallow, “a wandering type like you.”

“It would appear I wouldhave,” says Quirrel.

Some time before Quirreldecides to travel to Hallownest, he meets a blind old bug, their eyes rippedout with (as Quirrel learns) the traditional markers of punishment for murderin a far-off land. The blind bug wanders along a craggy cliff’s edge, tappingtheir way along the road with only a stick, and Quirrel hastily introduceshimself to steer the bug away from the ledge.

The old bug does not protest,but maintains the usage of his walking stick, and stays close to the rockyledge; Quirrel quickly realizes that, despite the danger, the ledge is one ofthe best ways for the bug to tell where they’re going, and although the bugmoves slowly, they were in no danger whatsoever of falling over the edge.Quirrel, chastised, apologizes for his presumption.

“It was a fairconclusion,” says the bug evenly. “There are worse things than apresumptuous good deed. Tell me about yourself, young man, since I have no eyesto tell me for myself.”

“My name isQuirrel,” he begins, then physical looks down at himself, as if he mayhave forgotten something about himself since he last introduced himself tosomeone. No, he appears exactly the same as he last knew himself. He reciteshimself to the old bug as he sees himself: “I carry my bag of food and ahat along my journey. I possess a nail, although I’m not a fighter. I’m asimple bug, who goes only where his whim takes him. Mostly, I justtravel.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Quirrelrepeats.

“Why do you travel?” theold bug says patiently. “You’re an awful long way from anywhere. What bringsyou so far off into the wilderness? Are you an exile, like me? A merchant? I’vemet quite a few of those. A refugee? A messenger? A servant of a lord?”

“None of the above. Itappears nobody told me to be here, and I appear to have no destination, either.Therefore, it would seem I am simply here because I want to be.”

“You’ve a funny way ofreasoning it,” says the bug. “‘I appear’ this, ‘I appear’ that, ‘itwould seem’ and so on. Are you or aren’t you?”

Quirrel laughs. “You’reright. I’ve gotten into a bad habit of mincing my words. Nobody told me to behere, and I have no destination. I am here simply because I want to be.”

“I’ve been told there’snothing in these wastelands worth seeing. I conclude you’re addled in the head,then.”

“I suppose I wouldn’tknow if I was mad,” says Quirrel. “But I have met many wonderful bugsalong my way, and seen many wonderful sights–even sight that people havethought were not so wonderful, I have found delightful. And I think that it isnot so unreasonable to travel for the love of seeing new and wonderfulthings.”

“I suppose not,”says the blind old bug. After a moment’s pause (tap tap tap, goes thewalking stick), the bug says: “Tell me, then. With all your love oftravel, what wonders do you see?”

Quirrel keeps the bug companyfor three days, and tells them of the tall, shadowy wastelands and high cliffsaround then. And when they grow tired of hearing about the world around them,Quirrel tells them of a canyon full of floating ghosts, a city of perpetualrain, a road through lush gardens, a nest of darkness and silk. When it comestime to part ways, the old bug tells Quirrel to take care. “Your loveshines true, even to my sight,” they say. “It shall not lead youwrong. Do not forget it, nor yourself. Let no one take it away.”

“I won’t,” saysQuirrel, and watches the blind old bug make their way down the left fork in theroad. Then Quirrel sets off down the right fork, towards Hallownest, the famedkingdom of wonderful sights, to see them with his own eyes and his own love.

#hollow knight #quirrel (hollow knight)#original #anonymous #fic

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 6 years

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Lost in the Forest of This Heart, Chapter 10: Caught Between Forever And Nothing At All

Lizzington, The Blacklist. One chapter left for this longest-running WIP of mine!

Summary: Control, longing, plans. His voice lacks all of the polish she’s used to, like a shot of whiskey over broken glass. She has the ridiculous urge to burrow into that sound and never leave.

Cross-posted on AO3. important notes can also be found there.

Liz wakes before sunrise, the solid weight of Red’s back pressed against her own.

It takes a moment for reality to return. Oh, yeah. That’s right. She did the stupid thing last night, letting her loneliness override common sense.

Sneaking into his bed without a word. Could she be any creepier? She’s lucky he didn’t wake her back up to evict her…if he even knew she was here.

Red is snoring lightly, which is both endearing and helpful. When Liz cautiously pulls away from him to turn around, she doesn’t have to wonder if he’s awake.

It will be really awkward if he turns over and finds himself face to face with her–the wise choice would be to retreat to her own bed before he wakes–but she’s not willing to let this opportunity pass her by.

As of tomorrow, she’ll be heading who-knows-where, and Red will be gone. Dembe will be delightful company, less prickly than Red can be at times, but he won’t be…Red.

Liz squeezes her eyes shut, so tight she sees stars, and accepts the truth she’s been avoiding for days now. Weeks, maybe. God, months if she’s willing to look at herself in the worst possible light.

It’s not really about her safety anymore, or where her future is headed. Red will keep pulling strings to clear her name whether they’re together or not, and Dembe is just as capable of keeping her alive–possibly more qualified, even.

No, this panic when she imagines going on without him is not about her at all. It’s about him.

She loves him.

Liz opens her eyes, strangely relieved to have admitted it, even just inside her own head.

Regarding the slope of his shoulders a few inches away, she wishes she was brave enough to cross the distance. He’s never pushed her away while conscious. Always had a hug available, or a hand to hold hers. She suspects he’s a cuddler.

Damn it, she’s going to miss him. It’s not fair. After everything else, she has to lose him too?

They haven’t even had a chance to work out most of their issues, to rebuild what’s been destroyed. They need more time.

If only the Task Force hadn’t found the phone they used. Ressler is probably on their heels right now.

A thought strikes her, as Red turns toward her in his sleep. He never said anyone was actually following them. He said they found the phone. Knowing the phone was found, they would know if the FBI was tracing it in their direction. But he said if.

If they found the trail, Red would be the one captured. Not when.

What were the odds Red would stick to a path he knew to be on their radar? He was better at protecting himself than that. And if he would be safe staying the course, why wouldn’t she?

Not to mention, it was only a few short weeks ago that he was agreeing that it would be easier to split up, but he had no interest in doing so. Were things more dire than he was telling her, to change his mind? Or was it something else?

While Liz is busy asking herself questions she can’t answer, Red wakes without stirring. She’s never seen anything like it–his breathing remains even and quiet, his body still. His eyes just drift open, and she gets to watch them focus on her as he comes back to the world.

For that one instant, as she watches his eyes go from a deep, clouded blue to a brighter, alert green, it feels like she’s the world he’s coming back to–and she can’t help wishing that were true.

"Elizabeth,” he murmurs, still motionless. It’s the first time he’s ever called her that without using it as a reprimand. His voice lacks all of the polish she’s used to, like a shot of whiskey over broken glass. She has the ridiculous urge to burrow into that sound and never leave. There’s something captivating about it.

She doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Red’s lips curve in response.

“Good morning.”

He has that sly, knowing look in his eyes now, the one that tells her he’s got her number. He might as well be wearing a hat, it’s so much like any day he met her to share intel and poke holes in her team’s work.

“Morning.” She resists the urge to sit up, turn away–anything to avoid the intense way he’s focusing on her now. This wasn’t what she had in mind when she decided to steal a little time with him. She’s pretty sure she’s blushing, caught doing something she would never do when he was awake.

“How did you sleep?”

He’s not exactly looking at her now; more like through her, around her. If she didn’t know better, she would think his gaze kept drifting to her lips and back up. If she didn’t know better, Liz could pretend he liked finding her this close, rather than being too sleepy to care. Yet.

“I slept okay. Bit restless,” she admits.

“Me too.”

“Sorry about this,” she adds reluctantly. Now she’s given him the opening to back off, push her away, but it’s better than seeming like she thinks she has the right to climb into bed with him. Falling for him has made her crazy.

Oh, god, she really has. She has fallen in love with Raymond Reddington. A man who kills without hesitation. A man who sees her as his life’s mission to protect, some sort of debt he owes her dead parents.

It’s a bad sign that the second part bothers her more.

He can’t know what she’s thinking, but he seems too busy watching the shifting expressions cross her face to take the out she gave him.

“You okay?”

Liz swallows the laugh that wants to betray her hysteria. Just fine, no problem…head over heels for the Concierge of Crime. Nothing to see here.

“Yeah.” She knows she’s blushing again. He must be half-asleep still, because for a man who reads her easily, he doesn’t comment.

But boy, does he stare.

****

Lizzie’s eyes are so darkly blue this morning that they’re nearly violet. He has never gotten to look at her this way, so close for so long. The delicate freckles across her nose delight him. He’s too happy to be here to feel guilty about wanting to kiss her along the line they form.

Why is she still here? Why is she looking at him like that?

He knows the dream he was having before he woke to find her here involved a life that doesn’t exist. That happens a lot; it leaves him melancholy to face the waking world.

For once, reality is better.

“Did you…have a nightmare?”

He’s not sure how to ask her why she’s with him without scaring her off. He’s incapable of accepting the gift without questioning it. Mercifully, Lizzie seems unspooked, no more eager to go than he is to lose her.

“No.” She looks away, lost in thought for a moment. “I just didn’t want to be in that bed any longer.”

Her response makes no sense to him, but it seems like she expects it to, and he doesn’t choose to dissuade her.

“Alright.”

Lizzie covers a yawn, turning away from him and then back, and he smiles. “We have another hour or so, if you need more sleep.”

“No, I’m good.”

Still, neither of them moves.

“Red?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

He can’t tell if she’s apologizing again for waking up in his bed, or something else. Her sorrow seems incongruous with the moment, though, tears shimmering when everything feels warm, and close, and not-yet-fraught.

“Lizzie.” He presses his hand to her cheek, catching the tears when they fall. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

I’m sorry for being so angry for so long, she thinks. I’m sorry there’s not enough time now. I’m sorry I can’t tell you, when you deserve to know.

Liz sighs. “I’m sorry anyway,” she says, shutting her eyes.

He stays there, her face against his fingers, until the tears dry.

****

The woman who hands Red the car keys is petite and trim and looks as though she’s rapidly approaching seventy, but the firmness of her mouth reminds Liz of Mr. Kaplan. Like all of Red’s associates, this is not a person to be trifled with.

“You be careful,” she tells him, eyeing Liz from the doorway.

“Always am,” he replies glibly, and the woman sniffs. Red shuts the door, not bothering with farewells.

Liz is smiling when he turns around. “Friend?”

“Of course.”

“She didn’t seem overly awed.”

“Ah, well. She’s seen far more impressive and terrifying things than me in my glasses.” He tucks the keys in his right pocket and surveys the room. “We’ve got everything?”

“What’s to get?”

“Good point.” He scratches his neck. “Well, then, I guess we’re ready.”

Liz glances around along with him. Ready? To possibly never see him again? To share a car for the last time?

How is she supposed to get ready for that?

“Let’s go,” she replies softly. She may not be able to explain her changing feelings to him, but she isn’t willing to lie. No, she’s not ready.

This sedan is a dull blue, similar to the last. It feels smaller, even though she knows it isn’t. There just isn’t enough room for them and their melancholy, both lost in solitary musings. They’ve only been on the freeway for a few minutes when Liz breaks the silence.

“So after we…when we leave Wisconsin tomorrow, what happens next?”

“Right.” Red squints harder at the road, as though the parallel lines might up and move on him. “While you and I have been zigzagging across America, Dembe and Mr. Kaplan and a few others have been putting things in motion.”

“Okay…”

He spares a quick glance for her before returning his attention to the road. There’s a deadly satisfaction in it. “Now that the groundwork has been laid, Lizzie–we take down the Cabal.”

“We?” She’s watching him carefully now. “But I thought…”

“We’ll be travelling separately,” he acknowledges, “but we will still be working together. Meeting occasionally. I did hear you,” Red adds quietly. “It’s time for me to stop treating you like a child.”

Well, that’s something.

“Okay…what do you mean, we’ll be meeting? When?” Will you be Red then, or will you have disappeared behind your carefully constructed walls again?

He chuckles, unaware of her fears. “Soon enough. When the details are set, Dembe will pass them to you. And we’ll be meeting, because it will take the both of us, to truly, finally eliminate our enemies.”

The dark determination in his voice when he talks about “their” enemies gives Liz a shivery feeling that she can’t blame on fear.

“You’re going to need to be in disguise a lot,” he adds. “Dembe can help you with that part.”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” she counters. “I took a semester of drama–I know how to style a wig.”

“Right.” How had he forgotten that? Sam had sent him pictures of Lizzie as Persephone, her one onstage role. Red had considered it a shame that she preferred to stay behind the scenes, focusing on the work, until he saw them. She was radiant, a scene-stealer.

Even then, it worried him. He told himself he was concerned for her safety, the possibility that someone might pay a little too much attention and dig into her past–but of course that was ridiculous.

No, he was just terrified of getting attached, of letting his feelings get in the way of what he would someday have to do.

If only he had listened to his fear.

Instead, he’s following the interstate, aware of every single minute as it passes. Red knows that whenever they do meet next, it’ll be too long an absence. Life without Lizzie will be a world without light, without color.

He can feel her eyes on him, and her mind working, trying to piece the plan together. When she gives in to her curiosity, it makes him smile. “So, if I’ll be with you, what are the disguises for? I mean, being in your company will make it obvious that I’m me–unless you’re talking serious prosthetics.”

“No, nothing quite that extreme. The disguises won’t be for disguise. They’ll be for testing loyalty.”

“They–wait,” she says slowly as it dawns on her. “I’ve heard of this. I studied this.”

“I’m sure you did. It’s a cliche at this point, but it works.”

“And you’ll what? Parade me around in different hairstyles and see what reports of me make it back to the Cabal?”

“As well as the FBI, of course. Any betrayal could put us in danger.”

“So I’m just for show.” Disappointment has dulled Liz’s voice. She shifts to stare out the window.

“Not at all, Lizzie.” Red reaches for her hand, glancing away from the road long enough to catch her expression. “The disguises will help me find weak links among my acquaintances, but that’s not why you’ll be with me. That’s a side benefit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. You’ll be with me because it’s time to show the world that you are a formidable adversary. Our enemies"–there was that tone again–"as well as our friends need to know that if they go after us, both of us will retaliate. They need to know that I am not the only threat.”

She squeezes his hand. “So, I’ll be armed.”

“Yes, of course. Dembe will have weapons for us both when we get to Wisconsin.”

“You’re not worried…after what happened the last time?”

“Why on earth would I be?” The question baffles him. This is Lizzie.

“Well, I’m a little worried,” she admits. “I’d understand if you were.”

“I trust you,” he says firmly, letting go of her hand to rub her shoulder. “And if you need me, I’ll be right there.”

Except for when you’re not, Liz thinks but doesn’t say.

“So,” Red continues, “we’ll meet with my contacts some of the time, to check in, and our other reunions will be meeting members of the Cabal directly.”

“To get to the top of the organization?”

“To neutralize them.” Red returns his hand to the wheel, shooting her a careful look. “The Cabal isn’t structured in a centralized way, Lizzie. There’s no CEO, or President. That guarantees that if someone were to kill one member, they wouldn’t be much affected.”

“Like when I shot Connolly.”

“Exactly. We can’t kill their leader, because they have no leader. But they have a core.”

“And if we take out the core, the Cabal shatters.”

“Yes. Or is weakened enough that we can mount a broader attack.”

“It sounds like whack-a-mole.” Liz says, grinning at him.

“I suppose, in a way, it’s similar.”

She grows somber. “But we’ll be killing people.”

“Strategically, when necessary, I will be. Yes.” He sighs. “I wish I could leave you out of that part, Lizzie, I truly do.”

Noting his emphasis on I Liz frowns. “Red, if I’m in this with you, I’m gonna be all in.”

“I’m not going to make a murderer out of you,” he replies.

“It’s too late; I already am.” She lays a hand on his knee, stopping him from arguing further. “I know you think there’s a distinction, and I would love to believe that. But I pulled the trigger, I made the decision. I chose to kill him. And Connolly was no greater threat to me than everyone else in the Cabal.”

Red is shifting his attention from the road to her and back, concerned.

“They want me dead,” Liz says simply. “And the way things are supposed to work, where the authorities can be counted on to take care of them, protect us all–we don’t live in that world. Turns out that world never even existed. So if we have to kill them first…that’s justice.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, awed by her. There’s a warrior under all that tragedy and pain, one he’s seen glimpses of over the years but never so clearly as right now.

Sometimes, the way he loves her hits him like a fist to the stomach. He would die for the woman sitting next to him, without a thought. Without blinking. Without regret.

“Please don’t fight me on this,” Liz finishes quietly, misunderstanding his silence. “I’m with you, now–as far as it goes.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assures her, gripping the steering wheel until it hurts. It takes all his strength to stop himself from pulling the car over right that second and telling her everything he’s still keeping locked away.

He could swear oaths and confess his feelings and reach for her, throwing a lifetime of caution to the wind for just one chance to touch her. Getting to breathe her in, finally letting his deepest needs out, his hands in her hair and mouth on her skin–

Red clears his throat, wishing not for the first time that he had been blessed with slightly less imagination.

It runs wild around her.

“You’ll have your own gun,” he says, returning to their conversation as though he can simply will the traitorous thoughts away. “I fully expect that you’ll use it if need be.”

“Okay. Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

****

Grateful to have sorted out the plan of attack, Liz waits until they’ve finished lunch to bring up the question that’s been burning inside her all day. She swore she wouldn’t push anymore, but this isn’t something she can let go of without a fight–this is losing him.

If she has any hope of stopping it, she has to try.

“Red?”

“Yes, Lizzie?” He looks up from the paper he’s reading, so unsuspecting that guilt almost steals her words before she can speak them.

“Why are we splitting up, exactly?”

He sets the paper aside. “For safety. I told you yesterday, the Task Force–”

“Found the phone,” Liz agrees, interrupting his measured words. “Not us. You never said we were in any immediate danger. Red…you didn’t explain why going separately will be safer, if we’re just going to reunite to face the Cabal. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s more prudent,” he says. “If we can succeed even slightly at shifting the focus to me, you’ll be safer.”

“Except nothing you do is going to make me less of a target,” she argues. “On our own, we’re two targets, equally at risk. Or I’ll actually be more at risk–it’s me they want now, more than anyone else, including you.”

“Staying together isn’t the best course of action,” Red insists stubbornly.

He hasn’t actually responded to her argument. “This isn’t about our safety from the Task Force,” Liz decides. “One clue about where we passed through two days ago won’t guarantee them any viable leads. So what is this really about?”

“I told you that I trust you. Can’t you trust me when I tell you we need to do this? It’ll be safer this way,” Red insists again.

“Safer for who?”

His face is a mask, and he doesn’t reply. Why won’t he tell her what’s going on?

“Damn it, Red.” She slaps a hand against the window at her side, unable to hold back the impulse to lash out at something. Someone. Was it her father who passed that down to her?

Red doesn’t so much as blink, which makes her even angrier. How can he be so calm about this? How can he sit and watch her desperate need to understand–to find a way out–tear her apart, and be completely unruffled? It’s the feeling of spinning totally out of control that compels her to actually voice the question.

“How can you just sit there staring at me like you don’t even care? Say something!”

When he grabs her arm before she can hit their car again in frustration, she’s startled by the iron in his grip. He’s never been less than gentle with her.

“Of course I care.” His words are deep and heated enough to be a caress, but they snap like thunder. He’s still holding her arm immobile, and she’s too shocked to tug it back. “Not everyone lets their feelings rule them, Elizabeth, and it doesn’t make them any less passionate. You think too little of me.” You pay too little attention.

“That’s not true.” She feels cold, and she knows there’s a hint of fear here, buried under her frustration. Fear of losing him, of pushing him too far–fear of the look in his eye while he restrains her. She wants to know this man, she does, but what she’s already discovered heightens her rollercoaster emotions. It’s all ups and downs with Red: flirtatious smiles and sobbing in his arms, vengeful words and selfless rescues.

“I have always appreciated you for exactly who you are,” he says more calmly, drawing his hand back and watching dispassionately as she touches her arm where he gripped it. “However, your habit of lashing out this way puts you at risk. It might be wise for you to practice some control.”

She can’t stop the bitterness from coming out through words that should be said lightly, pleasantly. “I think you have more than enough of that for the both of us.”

Red looks at her, then at her arm, where she can still feel the pressure of his hand. “Not always, Lizzie.”

He shifts away, resting his head in the corner against the window and closing his eyes. “You need to be more careful.”

#the blacklist #tbl #lizzington #lizzington fic #lizzington fanfic #tbl fic #tbl fanfic #the blacklist fic #the blacklist fanfic #my fic #lost in the forest of this heart

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