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savagesbonergarage · 4 years

Text

Heat | Part II

Savage Opress x Reader

Part I

(a/n: This takes place immediately after part 1, so enjoy! Sorry for the delay, hopefully it was worth it because uh...this be some filthy trash garbage my dudes. I have my url for a reason and now ya’ll get to find out why.)

(warnings: FILTH! ABSOLUTE TRASH GARBAGE! NOT FOR YOU NON-ADULTS! cock worshipping, grinding, oral (giving and receiving), cum eating, thigh riding, some blood, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, Savage is a gentleman and he gets to feel good, love that for him, Maul is totally aware of everything that is going on but you can ignore that if you want, lol.)

The scent of arousal hung hot in the evening air, permiating the space with burning desire. Your teasing had been relentless, giving him the show of a lifetime from across the room as you pleasured and tasted yourself in front of him, encouraging him to yearn for your mouth on every sweet inch of his throbbing cock that could hardly be contained by his fitted shorts, and yet Savage barely stirred from his position on the ground. He had voiced his desire for you, clearly so enthralled by your actions that despite the potential dangers from his rut, he was willing to hold back as much as he could if only to get a taste of you.

Everything he felt was reflected in his glowing golden eyes; his rage at himself, his carnal lust, his admiration for you, his love, his desperation to keep every primal urge within him suppressed to ensure your safety, and the fear that he wasn't disciplined enough to guarantee it. He was a beast after all, a manufactured monster bred to be nothing but brutal and unforgiving in the way he handled creatures of flesh. Only around you did he loathe this cruel reality forced upon him. The strength he was given seemed less like a gift from the witches of his home and more like the crutch it was proving to truly be, a preventative measure to keep him from loving another person. At any given moment he killed without a thought, mindlessly exterminating his foes at every turn in his quest to aid himself and his brother to fortune and power, and now he was here; unexpectedly in love with someone he never thought he could have these feelings for.

You knew his struggle and you admired him for how much his concern influenced his actions, however it was painful for you to witness him like this. He tried to conceal it, but you could sense the immense effort it took to keep him from ravaging you the way his burning blood pleaded him to. His resistance was more than enough to prove to you that Savage Opress was the man you desired more than anyone and anything. To go against his very nature in order to protect you was admirable, so very admirable and appreciated, but you believed that he had been through enough strain in his unfair and calloused life. You wanted to see him let go, to release all his inhibitions and allow himself the pleasure he more than deserved, even if you were to be hurt in the process. Hell, you would gladly die for him if it meant he would attain some semblance of genuine happiness.

He only had some idea of what you had planned for him, and he would soon discover that your inexperience wouldn't reflect in your performance. The pads of your bare feet sounded with little smacks against the solid floor as you stepped closer and closer towards him with an almost feline-like swagger, the mere yearning that radiated from your gleaming form on its own nearly being enough to send him over the edge. Any other man would be begging and pleading with all the desperation in the galaxy by now, but the zabrak was determined. Every ounce of his faith belonged to you and you alone.

Your hands met his broad, burning chest the moment your knees hit the ground before him. His breath hitched as your fingertips trailed across his collarbones and around the back of his neck, lightly stroking the base of the horn that protruded from the apex of his skull. The sensation must have surprised him, as his eyes fluttered back briefly before his staggard breaths resumed and his golden irises met yours. There was no need for words anymore. The moonlight bathed your sillouettes as you pulled yourself forward and captured his plump bottom lip between yours, relishing in its softness. Your hands were compelled to return to the warmth of his chest to feel the rapid beating of his two hearts in tandem with your own as the kiss deepened, releasing sighs and moans from the both of you between passionate smacks.

He palmed the meat of your ass and the back of your thighs in his large hands and kneaded in between delightful spanks that had you yelping into his mouth, the sharpness of his claws grazing the plush skin there just before the point of puncturing, then he proceeded to lift you onto his lap with seemingly no effort as he pulled your hips tightly against his pelvis. A loud mewl escaped your throat, activated by the sudden sensation of his hard, impressive length pressing your most sensitive spot through your lace panties. The thin fabric of both of your underclothes were the only barrier preventing his cock from prodding at your entrance, and Maker, the enticement was simply divine. The kisses became hungrier and hungrier as instinct beckoned you to rock your hips, resulting in an indescribable bliss from sliding back and forth against him with the little tugs from the tight lace rubbing directly on your clit threatening to make you come undone if you didn’t pace yourself. This action combined with the stimulation you gave yourself before was becoming dangerously evident, as each movement left a stamp of warm wetness until the outline of Savage’s dick was completely soaked in your arousal.

You felt his cock twitch beneath you, knowing that he wanted nothing more than to have it buried inside to the hilt while he groaned and crushed his lips against your throat, biting just hard enough to leave tender marks across your skin. He was being as careful as he could, even in this moment. This man, oh, this man. He deserved the entire galaxy and more. Nothing was going to hold you back from giving him the most blissful sensation he had ever experienced, not now, not ever. You lifted your hips and reached your hand underneath the wet fabric to grip the width of his cock, which elicited a growl from deep within his chest that was unlike anything you had ever heard. He leaned back, propping himself onto his elbows as he removed his hands from you and clenched his fists. His eyes darted about rapidly before settling on your hand, the beast within becoming more difficult for him to contain. He moaned your name between bated breaths.

“Yes?” You purred softly, wrapping your hand almost completely around the base of his girth. You could barely touch the tip of your thumbnail to the tip of your longest digit. Oh my stars.

He writhed, your simplest touch shooting sparks of pleasure through him. He became more and more unhinged with every move you made, shouting curses when you reached lower to gently cup his massive balls. You massaged them with care, in awe by their sheer weight, unable to comprehend how he lived every moment of his life hauling such a sensitive package around. He pounded the sides of his fists into the ground, leaving significant condensed cracks in the stone. Your heart skipped, knowing that this teasing was likely becoming more like torture for him the longer he had to bear it. It was high time you got to business.

You hooked your fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts and pulled, slowly revealing more and more of his remarkable shaft until more effort was needed to tug the obnoxious article of clothing over the ridge of the head, the mere force of the action sending it springing with enough velocity that if you had been eye-level with it, it would have socked you in the face. Not that you would have minded, no, not one bit. Your eyes were comically wide, your gaze remaining unmoved even as you backed away and lowered yourself between his legs to marvel at the sight. Savage’s cock was nothing short of incredible, easily the length of your forearm and dripping with precum. Intimidating as it was, you were still determined. You carefully gripped the base of it again, feeling your face flush in anticipation for what was to come. Your soft lips met the tip and kissed away the dot of wetness there, beckoning a resounding moan from the zabrak that surely echoed throughout the entire palace.

Your name escaped his lips again, followed by another string of desperate curses. Music, such blissful music to your ears, and so encouraging. A dislocated jaw and stretched esophagus was going to be more than worth it. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and smiled.

“Mmm, you’re so good to me, Savage...” You moaned as you planted kisses all the way down to the base and back up again, eliciting more enticing sounds from him. “Let me do something good for you.”

He didn’t have much time to respond as you quickly wrapped your mouth around the head of his dick, careful to keep your teeth from grazing him. You flicked and swirled your tongue around it, savoring the delectible salty taste as the noise that erupted from him was likely to have been captured by the ears of every hearing organism in all of Sundari. You opened your jaw wider and wider with every bob of your head until there was no possible way of fitting more of him inside without bursting your pharynx. Ignoring the tears as they came, you maintained your rhythm until you salivated enough that it dripped all down his balls and thighs, using the lubrication to pump the base with both hands as you continued sucking him off.

His breathing was ravenous and he gasped for air as though he were drowning in waves of pleasure, unable to form any semblance of coherent speech that wasn’t a filthy expletive or a long, dragged out whine. His hand moved to the base of your skull and become entangled in your tousled hair as you worked, although he didn’t pull you in further. He never felt the need to. You quickened the pace, and in hardly any time at all he was tightening his grip on your neck before he stilled and held you in place as your mouth was filled with hot cum; so much of it that you couldn’t breathe and needed to retract your head with a pop as he continued to release ropes of it all over your face. You shut your eye just in time.

Savage, meanwhile, was in complete and utter ecstasy. The literal and figurative load he was burdened with was finally relieved for the moment and he allowed himself to relax entirely, but not for long. His undivided attention belonged to you, your ragged breathing in tandem once again.

“Are you alright?” He implored with genuine concern.

“Yeah,” you smiled as your cheeks flushed with embarassment, “Don’t look at me, I’m a mess.”

He gazed at you with a fondness stronger than ever before, marvelling at your delicate form in the shadow of the moonlight.

“A beautiful mess.”

Before you could retort, he stood up in all his glorious nakedness and carried you bridal-style to the bed, gently laying you down.

“I’ll get you cleaned up.”

He left briefly for the refresher and returned with some damp rags, then carefully wiped your face. The smell of his cum was so unique and potent, you were sure that a rag wasn’t enough to eliminate it completely, not that you minded. You could have sworn that your skin was softer in the spots where it had been as well.

“Thank you,” you whispered quietly, suddenly more meek now that the deed was done. Your heart was still racing and your face was still hot, which didn’t go unnoticed by the handsome zabrak that positioned himself over you as he started nibbling and planting kisses behind your ear while he whispered.

“How many times have you imagined doing that? Because that was...”

You moaned in delight, the sensation of his hot breath on your neck more tantalizing than you anticipated.

“More than I can count.”

He sighed into your ear, sending a chill of anticipation down your spine as he worked his hands under the straps of your bra, tugging away.

“I see. We might have that in common...”

The lace was torn from your body as though it was made from nothing at all, leaving your breasts bare to him for the first time. Savage made quick work of palming them in his warm hands, lightly grazing your hardened buds with his thumbs as he stifled your shriek with his lips. Your tongues darted out at the same time as he positioned his knee between your legs, offering his warm thigh for you to grind on to which you hastily obliged. Before long the sheets beneath you were mildly soaked, parts of it cooling down after being exposed to the air and surprising you when you writhed over it. You released a needy, drawn-out moan into Savage’s mouth.

“Oh, my priceless treasure...” he rasped against your skin, moving his lips down to envelop one of your buds, “Let me devour you. I won’t stop until you beg.”

True to his word, he flicked his hand under the sopping garment and ripped it off all in once swift movement, rendering you completely bare to him. A shiver coursed through you as he slid backwards and rested the palms of his hands along your hips, pushing up against the small of your back to coax your thighs apart. You watched as his golden eyes gleamed in the darkness, taking in the sight of his feast with a beastial hunger.

“Savage...”

His hot mouth suffocated the nub just above your entrance as he sucked, flicked, savored and fucked your pulsing pussy with his face. You screamed, clutching the pillow above your head as he hit every nerve and fold with prescision. His tongue danced and darted inside, nearly sending you over the edge right then as you rode his chin, bucking your hips as the sensations grew stronger and stronger. You gripped his horns as your release crept closer and closer, unbothered by the fact that one was starting to draw blood along your thigh. You swore as your orgasm crashed over you like a maelstrom, but Savage didn’t cease his ministrations, causing you to shake from the overstimulation. You came harder and harder until you finally screamed “stop!” at the top of your lungs and he obeyed, moving up beside you to hold you tightly in his arms. You shivered and panted as though you had just been rescued from a frozen lake, though every inch of you was burning.

Savage pulled a blanket over the both of you as you eventually came down from your high and buried your face in his chest. He rubbed your back as you kissed his beautiful tattooed neck and sighed, elated.

“There’s no way what I did to you felt anywhere near as amazing as what you just did to me.”

“I disagree,” he retorted, pressing his erection against your thigh as he chuckled, “There’s your proof.”

You smiled against his skin, also feeling the heat return in the pit of your stomach. Sliding up to face him, you claimed his lips with yours and relished your taste again, the perverted action making you just as warm and wet as before. After pressing against his shoulders to get him to lay completely flat on his back, you continued your passionate kisses while you straddled him. The zabrak started to sit up as you guided his cock to your entrance, however you gently pushed him back down.

“Remember when I said I’m the kind of prey that likes to be devoured?”

He hesitated with his reply, but ultimately submitted to your yearning.

“I know it for myself, now.”

You leaned over to plant a loving kiss against his lips, then raised your hips again. Your breath hitched as you both watched the tip of his cock gradually disappear inside, stretching your walls little by little. Savage helped you ease onto him by placing one hand under your thigh and one on your hip, allowing you to decide the pace with reassurance that he would ensure your comfort if it became too much. You felt him fill you completely as you eventually slid all the way down to the base of his shaft, now entirely sheathed within you.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasped, overcome with the sensation of your tight cunt squeezing his cock into oblivion.

It was unreal. The pain wasn’t terrible, and if anything, you rather liked it. You leaned back a little and supported yourself on both of his thighs as you slowly began riding him, immediately falling in love with the pleasure the ridges of his cock provided. With every stroke another point of ecstacy was discovered, sending ripples of gratification throughout the both of you. The room soon became filled with a symphony of sighs and moans, only increasing in volume and frequency as the pace quickened. Savage was amazed by how well you were taking his cock, however he wasn’t about to leave all the work to you. He carefully sat up and rolled you onto your back, taking control of the thrusts as he did so. Your pussy tightened even more from the sheer indescribable pleasure, involuntarily sending you both closer to release.

“Where-” Savage began, but before he could finish you wrapped your legs even tighter around his torso and cupped his cheek, commanding his attention with your pleading eyes.

“Please.”

Another instance where no further words were needed. His unsure expression was rendered steady by your calming gaze, and he understood. If the family were to grow sooner rather than later, then neither of you would mind. He gripped your hips harder as he quickened the pace more rapidly, and you felt yourself violently come undone at relatively the same moment he did, the added sensation of his cum filling you sending plumes of pleasure that you never thought possible enveloping your entire body. Your walls convulsed, milking his cock for all he was worth as he collapsed on top of you. The only word he could muster was your name, which sounded divine as it breathlessly escaped his lips.

You held him against you for a long while, stroking the spaces between his long horns while he rested.

“Feeling better?”

He glanced up at you with an inquisitive eye and smirked.

“For now.”

You placed a kiss on the top of his head and smiled against his skin.

“My services are available all day every day, so it would be a shame if that wasn’t taken advantage of.”

Savage groaned with delight and rose above you, blocking the cascading moonlight with his shadow.

“You promise?”

You lifted your hand up to his cheek and he held it there, placing a gentle kiss on your palm.

“I promise, if you promise not to hold back this time.”

You winked, and the zabrak purred against your chest.

“Believe me, I won’t.”

***

The stench was rancid, and there was seemingly no escape. The toxic fumes of Lotho Minor would be most welcomed if his only choice of air was between that and the absolute pungent smell of the mindless rutting occuring just a few rooms down from his. Normally, he’d allow his rage to fuel his ambition, to become the source of his drive for power, however...this was different. He sensed everything. There was no blocking it, no ignoring the excruciating way she moaned for him, how she writhed and cringed and unfolded beneath him as he pleasured her, no, it was all-encompassing. Every sigh was a painful reminder of everything he no longer had, what he could no longer provide. It beckoned those forbidden thoughts to emerge from confinement, those thoughts long buried, thoughts of how things might have been different...

Had Kenobi not taken everything from him, might she have chosen him instead? Would he have had the advantage over his brother if he could have promised the same things? Protection, pleasure, a family...

No. No, perhaps not. He wasn’t like his brother, and never was. Savage, too, was brought about by darkness, however he was a being still capable of love.

Maul was not.

This was simply the way of things, and he could not change it. He wouldn’t kill his brother. He wouldn’t even kill the woman he still yearned for.

Perhaps there were some chains that were impossible to break.

#holy shit look guys i did it #star wars #savage opress x reader #savage opress x you #savage opress #savage opress smut #star wars smut #maul #darth maul #star wars x reader #star wars x you #no y/n

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drakewalkerfantasy · 3 years

Text

Consequences: Chapter 1

Synopsis:

Jordan Williams is a former Marine who starts a new life joining Medical school at age of 27.

Rachel Ferguson is a freshly out of college graduate and Medical school 1st year student.

Two complete strangers who fell in bed together for a night of solace from their moment of anger and hurt. By chance, they were brought together and their fates intertwined.

Not realising yet that not only they share the same house, they also share the person they cannot lose no matter what.

What will happen when the reality of the one night’s actions filled with lust and anger will hit them both? What will happen when he will find out that the girl he spent the night with is not only his housemate but also his best friend’s little sister? The one he swore to himself never to touch, the one for whom he will never be good enough. Will he be able to keep his hands off her? Or are they doomed from the beginning?

Words: 3600

Authors notes: Some chapters maybe NSFW or have a mature content

Jordan Williams x Rachel Ferguson (Rae, Rae-Rae)

**Warnings: Alcohol consumption, anger, bad decisions in next chapter.*

Jordan Williams never was the one who scared easily, or backed out of his decision for that matter.

Former Marine, even though his parents didn’t support him or approve of it... the one of the few survivors of his platoon… The hero, who single handedly carried his friends out from the burning hell on Earth not knowing if they were dead or alive. Who by some miracle survived, but was left with the nightmares to remind him of how lucky or cursed he was, and with the ugly scars to never let him forget of the ones who weren’t as fortunate. Limping on his right leg, but at least breathing and moving.

And today even though he still wasn’t scared, he was nervous. This was the last Friday before he was starting his new life. No more deployments. No more deaths, at least not on his watch. And as many lives as he could save after he would learn how to do that. After he would become one of the best surgeons and open the clinic for the people like him, who would survive beating all odds. For Doctors without the borders who wouldn't be scared to help people in the burning hells... who will be ready and willing to help as many dying to survive, be it soldiers or civilians, something that he failed to do then. But damn him, if he wouldn't do it now, after he would learn how to do that.

And he was determined to learn how… nothing and no-one would stop him, that is what he swore to himself that day. That is what kept him going no matter how difficult it was.

Trying to block the nerves raking through him he gripped the steering wheel firmer trying not to think of the only thing that overshadowed his new beginning. Of the fact that the place that he found for the living, was already occupied, which meant that he would have a housemate, something that he was determined never to have. The main reason why no matter how hard his best friend tried to convince him to rent a house together, he did not succumb to his persuasion. Preferring solitude instead to the company. Not wanting anyone to see him at his lowest or to hear his screams during the nights, while he would wake up sweating from yet another nightmare night after night. And as a result of that he got himself in a situation in which he was now, fated to share the house with the person he even never met.

He huffed, driving toward the lonely standing house, someone’s car was already parked there. He looked around, leaving his car in a free space. Getting out of his SUV, Jordan went toward the house.

Getting inside, he noticed still packed boxes in the hall, but he couldn't hear or see anyone else, which meant that his housemate left without unpacking.

Typicall. He thought, walking further into the house, entering a living room he would be forced to share with someone else. He looked around the neat and cozy room, two armchairs were standing opposite the fireplace, the massive bookcase was located along one of the walls.

He was about to go and check the kitchen when he heard his phone calling. Taking it out, he checked the Caller’s ID before answering the call, listening for a familiar voice coming from his mobile.

“Hey, Jody.”

“Morning to you too, Brandon,” replied Jordan, putting his keys into the bowl and moving further into the kitchen.

“I take it, you finally get to your new place? Settled in okay? How is your new housemate? Still not regretting not moving in with me?” questioned Brandon in his carefree manner, as if he wasn’t on the verge of death no more than six month back after he would save Jordan's life, and in return Jordan saved his. His cheerful voice caused a surge of amazement through Jordan while he listened to his friend.

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Jordan growled frowning after finally the questions stopped in that annoyingly abrupt manner he hated. “And yes, I already got to my new place but had no chance to settle in just yet. Answering your last question, I have no idea who my new housemate is as I can see only unopened boxes there. But I do hope that the person I share this place with is someone who will not interrupt my study or throw constant parties... Although based on the fact that instead of unpacking, this housemate just left… I guess I can say goodbye to that…”

“Yes, yes… Got it,” brushed him off Brandon. “About your studies. Even though I still don't know why you need it in the first place, you always could join the forces, but what I do know, is the fact that you need to unwind before it starts… let loose... have meaningless one-night fun... sometimes I really think you forget how to have fun spending all your free time buried in books,” said Brandon, making Jordan flinch at his choice of words. He could be buried… they both could be... as were most of the guys from their platoon.

Pale, bloodied faces appeared in front of his eyes. His hand is suddenly covered in blood right in front of his eyes… screams deafeningly loud dying on their lips twisted in agony, leaving only few of them alive, and if no one would come soon they would join their comrades, their friends… faster than they could finish the prayer… not that either of them believed, not after what they have seen or could lose.

“What do you mean?” forced out Jordan, closing his eyes and letting out the slow breath.

“I mean that you wouldn’t recognise fun and beauty even if she bumped into you... And you are coming with me to the party. I need a wingman, and you need to unwind. Hopefully with some cute girl, whose face you will forget the next morning,” chuckled Brandon, making Jordan frown moving his phone a bit further from his ear.

“Never,“ cut Jordan, shaking his head. He was done with partying or with women. Done… "You know I don’t do parties… not anymore.”

“Yes, but you also know I will not give up until you say yes. So let’s make it easier on both of us. Should we?,” laughed Brandon.

“I need to unpack my stuff, and it may take the whole day. Also, I need to go to the library to pick up some books for my studies as tomorrow the library will be closed. So this time you will need to manage this on your own.”

“If these are the only reasons then I don’t see any reason why not.”

“I told you, I will not have…,” Jordan tried to say.

“Nope, still cannot see why you wouldn’t have time for some fun. I will be at your place in twenty minutes and will help you unpack, and then we will pick up your books before crashing this party.”

“You will not give up… aren’t you?”

“Man, you should know by now that never.”

“Fine…” sighed Jordan exasperatedly, looking at his watch. “Be here in twenty minutes, but I will leave the party before 10 pm. Understood?”

“See you in twenty minutes,” replied Brandon, ending the call.

Almost an hour later Jordan finally heard a knock on the door. Grudgingly, he opened it, letting his best friend inside the house.

“You are late,” stated he, holding one of the boxes in his hands. The pain shot through his body, but he didn’t even flinch, still staring at his friend.

“Sorry, I met my new neighbours. Movers bailed on her and her little boy, so I helped her to carry boxes inside,” shrugged Brandon nonchalantly passing by Jordan feeling not even the slightest bit sorry for his delay.

Another hour later and unloading the last boxes that Jordan brought with him, they finally started to unpack them. And in another three hours, they were finally done.

All the stuff that Jordan took with him were put neatly to their places. The bookshelf in the living room stocked with books he brought, and a picture of him and his older sister was put above the fireplace. They both looked in satisfaction around the room putting the empty boxes into the storage place. Brandon patted Jordan on the back before going toward the door.

“So now, when we finally finished unpacking,” started his friend. His eyes widening, when he noticed how Jordan with displeasure looked on his new housemate’s still packed boxes.

Quickly his friend marched back to him grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door, letting him only grab his keys on the way out. “Don’t you even dare to think about that. You are NOT touching your roomies’ stuff. Now…. let’s go to this place, where you need to be quiet and bore yourself to death or we will be late to the party.”

That word again… thought Jordan. The word that made him flinch every time, remembering the day of his friends’ deaths. Still blaming himself that he couldn’t have saved them all, didn't see approaching danger earlier and when he did it was already too late to warn guys as all hell broke loose just a second after he sensed the danger.

“Can you stop calling it that? And the library can be fun when you know what you are looking for,” he snapped, hoping his friend missed his reaction before they both exited the house, shutting the door behind.

It was already three o’clock when they rushed toward the library, trying to get on time before it was closed. After another ten minutes of arguing that Brandon should wait for him in the car instead of constantly complaining about the place or flirting with every single girl they would meet, Jordan ran up the stairs taking two steps at the time before disappearing behind the heavy doors. When he was about to round the corner, he felt someone bumping straight into him. The heavy books the person was carrying fell to the ground hitting his foot painfully. Making him swear under his breath, looking at the person in front of him with the frown.

“Haven’t you ever been taught that you need to look where you are going?” huffed Jordan in annoyance, crouching in front of the girl with the blonde hair and helping her to collect scattered books. “Next time, watch where you are going,” said he with a scowl on his face, shoving the books into her arms before looking at her for the first time.

The girl looked at him with the wide open forest green eyes that looked somehow familiar, no matter how silly it may sound. He quickly raked his gaze over her, taking in every detail of her petite form, before hastily returning it back to her eyes. The tongue darted out running over her lips, making his gaze drop to them darkening just for a split second, while following the movement. Her rosy lips parted as if forming a reply, but he quickly shook himself out of his state and before she could utter even a word he raised to his feet and strolled into the library, leaving a startled stranger behind.

“What a jerk,” she mumbled, standing up with the help of her friends and adjusting her skirt.

“But he is a handsome jerk,” whistled an athletic-looking guy, watching after Jordan, throwing a hand over the blonde girl’s shoulder. “Isn’t he, Heath?”

“Ohhhh, yes. He is yummy, and that ass in low cut jeans,” moaned Heather turning to face her friend. “And did you see his lips? Rae-Rae, if I would bump into him… he wouldn’t leave… so easily,” said she with a wink.

“You two are just ridiculous... I hate you,” groaned Rachel, covering her face with books she was now holding in front of her. Her cheeks flamed. “Can you think of anything, but sex?”

Heather and Derek, the guy, who threw a hand over her shoulder, shared an incredulous look, before shaking their heads and answering in unison.

“Nope… never… And you love us, girl.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” frowned Rachel, raising her head to look at her friend.

“Yes, I do. And this is why I don’t try to get the boy myself. Also, because he is straight,” shrugged off Derek, with a wide smile.

“And how exactly do you know that?” questioned Rachel rolling her eyes.

“Did you see the way he looked at you?” asked Derek, sharing another look with Heather, the plan already building in their heads.

“Okay, you two… drop it. I know this look, and you will not try to hook me up with him. He looked at me the same way as any other rich boy in town would look at me. He is a jerk and a snob. And I’m not interested. Besides you know I have a lot on my plate right now. So stop even thinking about this. Be thankful I even agreed to go to that party with you, because if my brother finds out I lied to him... He will kill you first for dragging me there and then lock me up until graduation... or death in solitude,” she mumbled quickly before taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. “And Derek, don’t you dare to forget that you promised me to do our dance. We need to practice.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll remember. I’m always up to show my new moves,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Okay, then let’s go. You know I need to change first and unpack my boxes before my housemate will arrive, which you also promised to do with me,” reminded Rachel, and they went to her house, laughing on their way there.

By the time the clock struck seven, Jordan went into a club hosting a party, scowling at the number of people there. His posture was stiff and on alert while he looked around. Ready to jump into an action at any time.

“Brandon, tell me again, why exactly did I agree to go with you?” said he in a loud voice, while trying to get through the crowd and not to lose his friend from the view, who already scanned the crowd for the distraction for the night.

“To have fun, plus I needed a wingman... Actually... scratch out the last one, I see a target at the bar, bored, single, challenging, redhead. Wingman not required,” Brandon said with a wink, when they finally got inside, instantly starting to move into the direction of the petite girl who captured his attention leaving Jordan behind.

He followed his friend with a glance before looking around the floor. His attention immediately drew to a dancing couple in the middle of the dance floor. Both moving as a whole to the sounds of Latin Music. The sensual dance attracted the drunken crowd closer to them, creating a commotion on the dance floor from enthusiastic screams and whistles. His brows furrowed instantly when he recognised the same pretty blonde girl he met earlier today. Her hair laid in soft waves. And he felt how his gaze unintentionally riveted to her, watching her every move, unable to tear his gaze away.

He watched how the guy led her into a low dip. His hand shifted to the small of her back when another traveled along her neck caressing her body as if they were in the confidentiality of the bedroom. His hand slowly reached for her knee making her stretch out her leg. A beautiful red dress flowed around her body, dancing around her petite frame like flames. At some point during the dance, she looked straight into his eyes, and he felt as if falling under her spell. Her soft forest green eyes were burning with fire, alighting something unexplored inside of him. Something that had died with his friends that day, something that they never will have and something that he will never deserve.

He could feel how his heart sped up beating as never before, and his breath elevated, from the beats of sultry music and the way her body moved in another man’s arms. Waves of golden hair refracted the lights of the club, and she moved, holding his gaze as though burning him alive from the inside. As if under the spell, Jordan moved closer to the dancers not even realising it until a buzzing of his mobile broke him out of his daze.

It seemed that eternity had passed when in reality it was only a splitting second, second that he would be not able to get out of his mind. He could feel the pounding of his heart increasing with impending anger as he looked at the caller’s ID, blinking once... twice at the phone clenched in his hand. Contemplating for a moment to just let it go to the voicemail. Not wanting or ready for another confrontation that was inevitably coming.

Deep down he knew that it wasn’t a solution and no matter how long he would avoid it his mother would find the way to get to him, so before he could think about that more he went outside of the club to take a call, not even sparing another glance to the dance floor... or to the girl who’s eyes looked so familiar.

“Mother,” he said, taking a call. “Sorry, I…,” he started, interrupted by his mother’s voice “No mother, I didn’t… I’m with Brandon… Yes, he is still my friend,” replied Jordan, trying to stay calm, while listening to his mother. His grip on the phone was getting firmer and firmer with every word she said, surprised that it didn't break in half by the time he had a chance to speak again. “Mother, no I still plan to study Medicine and not business,” said he, annoyed by yet another remark from his mother. “MOTHER,” he said, raising his voice and losing control just for a split second, before taking a deep calming breath and closing his eyes. “This is my life, and I have all the right to decide what I want or don’t want to do with it. Look what you've done to Leslie? Isn’t it enough…,” exasperatedly said he, only to be shut up by his mother once again. “Yes, mother,” he gritted through his clenched teeth, feeling how his blood started to boil again, wanting nothing more than to get drunk, and to get away as far as possible from his family as he did while he served in the Marine Corps, until he couldn't do that anymore.

His hand reached for his hip by instinct. The wound was deep enough to make him bleed to death on that ill fated day leaving him dead, but it didn’t happen... Instead it made him limp, but he could manage that. This he could hide from everyone with the prescribed medicine when the pain got to the point of unbearable and with the gritted teeth when he just wanted to limp, not caring if somebody will consider it a weakness. And it took him the hell of a lot of willpower to remember it. To remember that he cannot allow himself to be weak, couldn’t allow to show it. No one knew how bad it was... no one except Brandon, who was there for him after he saved his life. The only person who knew that if the bullet would have hit the inch higher or if the help would get there a little bit later Jordan would bleed to death. The only person to whom he told how bad it is and how much pain it causes him even now.

“No, I will not change my mind,” said he on autopilot before ending the phone call abruptly without listening to what else his mother wanted to say. After a moment, he finally shoved the phone back into the pocket of his dark blue jeans moving back into the club and walking toward the bar.

The music has changed to something slower and sensual, and when he looked on the dance floor his eyes landed on the same tantalisingly beautiful stranger who was in the middle of the argument.

He could see how some man grabbed her hand, but she jerked it from him and stormed toward the exit.

He huffed, downing one drink after another, not paying attention to what he was drinking, his eyes dropping back to the bar in front of him. His thoughts involuntarily returned to the girl, but he pushed them away. Frustrated and angry by the fact that he couldn’t get her out of his head for some inexplicable reason. Hurt and angry by the fact his mother managed to get under his skin once again.

By the time he was done and ready to leave the club, the anger boiling inside him reached the limit. Jordan rose abruptly, almost tripping over his feet, when the pain in his hip shot through his leg, making him curse under his breath, taking a moment to compose himself.

He looked around, searching for Brandon, but couldn’t find him anywhere, so he typed him a quick message letting him know that he was heading back to his place. When he was just about to exit the club, he felt someone bump straight into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around the person’s shoulders, preventing them both from the fall.

Tagging: @choices-bound @lahelasaveiro

#Book 1: Consequences #contemporary romance #Jordan Williams x Rachel Ferguson #Brandon Ferguson

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fandom-sheep · 3 years

Text

Eret 11 MAY 21

Cat and DSMP Part 1/1

Cat! Goose!

Goose my beloved.

Eret’s streaming very late for me again. So I’m not staying the whole time.

Hello Elaina. Enjoy Goose.

Fundy! Kinda...

Fundy hearing the donations. LOL.

Fundy enters a stream and it starts to scuffed. Scuffed just follows Fundy wherever he goes.

A wild my beloved on the cube.

The Drista stairs.

Wait what. Why is the tower gone?

I have missed some lore.

Ah... it’s part of the nightmare thing.

Eret offering Fundy housing like a good almost adoptive parent.

Sneeze? OH WOW SNEEZE.

Sounds like Fundy about lost a lung. Good gracious.

The bargaining between these two.

Cat, Handsome, said cube was massive

You know what that works.

It’s hard to keep the audio right for Eret’s stream for my headphones. It’s either too quiet or the loudest my headphones can go and my family can hear it.

On stream explosions. Noice.

Wow youtooz. Not super cool. Permission is usually a good thing.

Eret keeps on sizzling.

Getting dirt for scaffolding. Going old fashioned Minecraft for this.

“Why is the Cube kinda hot” cue Eret losing faith in her chats sanity.

Cube go poof.

Oh. Red stone. That’s dangerous.

I like this song. Oh klahoma. Gorgeous song.

Love joy is such a fun band. I want to make a plushy of the cat.

It’s kinda sad that Eret can’t see themselves the way chat and their little fandom sees them. Most all of us think they look fabulous.

Not Arson. Just bombing. A bit of anarchy by the king.

Demolition. Now there’s the word.

Controlled ish demolition.

Ah I’ve almost saved enough channel points for water. Nice. I’m not going to redeem it I’m just going to keep hoarding the points.

Flame Arrow. Nice.

Eret cleaning up the SMP eye sours.

Watch me attempt to sleep to Eret here in an hour or so, but keep getting distracted.

Explosion time.

Someone get ready to clip it.

Bye Bye Cube. Let’s go.

Gotta get a song that fits the vibe.

Hayloft. Time to go poof.

Turning up my brightness just to watch this explosion in the best way possible.

Still wearing the red dress I see.

I hope the music isn’t too loud to get this part muted.

Drum roll...

Drum roll continues...

Drum roll still going...

THERE GOES THE CUBE!

That was so smooth and good looking!

Overall a very good explosion.

Just a little bit of a hole in the other building.

Twitch Pr-

Poor being’s so confused with his hair. Someone help them.

Twitch bleep.

Everyone attempting to give hair styling advice. Everyone’s trying to help the being.

That bird is majestic. I remember seeing that tiktok.

Animals just decided Eret was the animal whisperer.

Yes! Disney Princess Eret fanart! Someone make it, I shall reblog all of it.

Likes to hug cute animals and cute animals like being hugged by her. Nice.

It’s alright. Names are difficult. I have to like put name tags on people to learn who they are. That or name tags on their space (like on campers bunks and door decs on dorms)

It does feel very February. But I’m very ready for summer because that means I get to do my favorite job.

Hooray. I hit 15k points.

Eret trying to prove to us a ponytail won’t work. Like we aren’t going to hype them up no matter what.

Gotta heart in the chat. All Eret’s chat does is hearts and encourage. It’s a lovely place.

Oh Eret forgot his cat ear sub goal. It’s alright I know I forgot.

Pride is next month. Nice.

Oh. We’re almost halfway already. Why does the world spin so quickly?

We forgot a dirt tower. Whoops.

I would wear Eret merch. I like it when people release merch around Christmas. Then I can ask for it as a gift.

Oh it wasn’t a dirt tower.

Just looking at Elaina’s stream in the stream selection screen it like very cozy.

All the way up the Drista stairs.

Look it’s the museum!

Eret’s got most of the builds around there. The museum. The fortress. Nice.

Some things are too historical to remove. Somethings are historical because they are being removed.

Oh no. L’sandburg.

It’s taking over the summer home.

Ah the lore is coming. It just seemed to be too early.

Hello unofficial ranboo Raiders.

Foolish making the awesome tall thingy!

Foolish’s builds are so neat. I want to watch Foolish’s streams more. Maybe just in the background but I start wanting to delayed liveblog and that requires attention.

Oh the giant portal turned out well. Sorry that was the lady’s foolish stream I watched.

Shulkers. The forbidden mob.

Eret with just a pit in the desert filled with llamas. Bones. And discus.

The mansion has been finished?

Alright is better than bad. It’s alright to be alright.

Lucky being not getting tired. I got the Johnson and Johnson vaccine and I was so so tired. I also had just no appetite.

Eret doing an smp tour. And looking at foolish’s builds.

Flickering the switch on the rainbow beacons.

Eret just knowing where everything is.

Kinoko is super pretty. Just for the aesthetic value of the kingdom I appreciate it.

Yeet. Just defenestrated himself out the window.

Oh? Spectator fly over the smp?

That would be really neat to like. Watch in VR. I think I’ve only used VR maybe twice.

Pretty Rainbow beacons.

The nurse who gave me my vaccine hid the needle from me because I mentioned to her that I was afraid of needles. It wasn’t a big deal at all.

30 minutes till I attempt sleep. Woo.

Goose my beloved. Someone make the gif because I’m not quite sure how to make it.

Oh yeah. Goose in Marvel. I hear MCU and think Minecraft cinematic universe. Not marvel.

Ghibli is so nice. It really romanticize small moments of life.

Yeah the characters are all really supportive in Ghibli movies.

Someone subbed for nine months “that’s enough to make a child” -Eret

That mansion is like a maze. I’m so lost already.

Everyone encouraging Eret and telling her she looks pretty. Good.

Eret needs all the hype and encouragement.

Antarctic empties flag. Yeah it does have a similar color pallet.

Michelle! Hello!

Fortress work. Nice.

Do it. I’ll listen the Eret play other games.

I don’t usually watch game play for non Minecraft games. But I’ll listen to it all.

Hbomb and Eret living in the same city feels like two worlds that shouldn’t meet. But it’s awesome that they have.

TOS means against twitches terms of service. Nice. Glad to finally have an explanation of what that means.

Look at our handsome and pretty streamer. All the hype.

I keep turning down the stream to hear the show my mama has on because I’m curious about what happens.

Yeah. Backseat gaming can be annoying. That’s part of why I share my thoughts here just in case I do start backseat gaming.

Almost to the sub goal. Hooray!

Ooo food.

No no. I see where they are coming from. Eret does give a bit of cat bus vibes. I can’t explain it but the vibes are there.

Creeper causing issues at the fortress.

Ed Sheepran my beloved.

I should draw more ferrets. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe I’ll draw us doing stuffs.

Actually I kinda want to make a little animatic of some heels walking across the screen followed by a hoard of ferrets. I think it’ll look cool. But I need the artistic ability and the ability to not scream making that.

Woop. Ad time. Off to the void of where ever the ads game me.

OH THE NEW VOID LOOKS COOL!

Bread. Flowers. Ted. Crown. And of course Eret.

We V O I D and get our streamer bits.

Hush the chat is V O I D and the occasional emoji or emote.

The void being centered looks good. Maybe that’s just the symmetry speaking but it’s good.

Oh. We hear the being. The being in void mode. And spooky mode.

Chat just starts yelling corpse.

Hydration. I try to stay hydrated. But I fail often if I’m not doing something active.

Tree!

Casually makes and snags tree.

Eret does read chat often. It’s strange. And it is weird how often it ends up being you.

You can tell I’m a tumblr peep. I may say stuff in chat but I’m fully not expecting or wanting to be noticed by the streamer.

Others hitting darkness o’clock and saying goodnight.

It’s sleep to the stream hours y’all. Whoop.

I need to visit the parks out west. I’ve only really seen the eastern US ones. But I have been to the Great Smokey Mountain park which is gorgeous.

Eret thinking of his friends triggers when naming his cat.

Eret’s builds are so casually pretty. Not like Foolish’s which are intricately pretty. Not like Phil’s or Sam’s which are complicated pretty. All pretty. Just different breeds of pretty.

Alrighty. It’s sleepy hours for me. As much as I love Eret I want to read some fanfiction and daydream a bit before I head to sleep.

Have a good rest everyone and may all your coming meals be delicious.

Wait no is it our turn with goose?

OUR TURN WITH GOOSE!

Eret honey that’s the ceiling.

Cat stream. Cat stream.

Sleepy kitty. A cat cam would be good.

Yeah. That happens with cats. Especially strays.

Goose captured the computer mouse.

Goose straight up chose Eret and Elaina.

Goose really just chose not to leave.

Oh my stream connection is acting sad. But I want Goose content.

I want to draw Goose now.

Maybe I’ll do water color for Goose. I know I tried to do that with Boots (Fundy’s cat)

Hopefully there will be some Goose face screenshots I can see. Maybe I can see him well in the Tiktok.

Artists just violently refusing payment. Sounds about right. The MCYT artists just kinda go “yeah give credit and we cool”

Cowboy cat. Nice.

I want to paint Goose in the cowboy hat.

Hype train! That we are zooming.

Bucket sponge?

WATER BUCKET FROM WET SPONGE! Tiktok people giving all the cool info.

Go Goose. Catch the computer mouse and the screen mouse.

Just sitting here at 11:30 at night getting screen shots of Goose for painting purposes.

Goose please. Look at the camera babe.

My phone is dying. And I can’t charge it and type.

Alright the camera is off the cat. The cat is also blocking the screen.

But no cat on camera means I’m getting some sleep. If I do any of the projects I’ve mentioned I’ll let y’all know.

Have a good rest everyone.

#eret #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp eret #why must this being stream so late #goose the cat #erets cat #delayed liveblogging

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

baby, you’re like lightning in a bottle (chapter four)

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Huge thanks to my beta readers, @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short! And a massive thanks for all your patience in me getting this chapter up, turns out teaching during a pandemic is uh time consuming

Please reblog and leave a comment on Ao3 if you’d like to support me!

--------

Peter sat and looked at the cursor blinking on the comms screen. It’s incessant, rapid blinking seemed to line up with his own guilty heartbeat.

His report had been due for half an hour. Another hour and Mag would terminate the entire mission, assuming he’d been compromised and their goal, their planet’s freedom, would be set back who knew how long. Peter knew that and still, he was sitting here, with no idea what to write.

He even came back to the apartment five minutes after the report should have been sent off though he hadn’t even realised until he was sitting on his cot, looking at the screen. Five minutes, five whole minutes, more time than he’d ever allowed himself to make such a mistake in his entire life. Five minutes that, a day ago, would have had him cursing himself for a failure. Not fit to walk in his father’s footsteps.

But tonight, he had just sat there and stared at the blinking display, feeling nothing. And now, with more precious seconds ticking away, he still hadn’t the first clue how he was going to explain himself. He just sat cross legged, feeling numb in the fingertips as the realisation sunk in that he’d left part of himself behind without even knowing it.

It would be so easy to blame Juno Steel. After school, he’d invited Peter to come along with them to the park, just to hang out, that was all, but the fact that it had been him doing the inviting rather than his brother had pulled the yes out of Peter’s mouth before any more sensible part of his brain could interject. It would be easy to blame him for how long he’d stayed too, far past what he’d originally intended. Because every time Peter had thought he should be making excuses, Juno had seemed to choose that moment to smile at him, or challenge him to climb the next tree, or take a drag on his cigarette and exhale long and low in that way that fascinated Peter so much. There had always been the way his eyes looked in the quickly gathering sunset, the way he leaned back against the tree trunks when they’d all made camp in the field that sat at the centre of Halcyon Park, his rasping, barking laugh when Ben would do or say something funny or Mick would be oblivious about something obvious. There had always been another reason to stay, another thing that had led to this hole in who he’d thought he’d been. A hole that was five minutes wide and had rendered him numb.

It would be so easy to blame Juno for tonight and every other day where Peter had been feeling this way, forgetting why he was here and forgetting his mission. But he knew the blame was on him.

Because he was the one who was falling in love.

Those words didn’t sit easily in his mind but there was no denying the truth of them now they were there. With changing his face, his name, his life so often, Peter always tried to know himself completely, mostly out of fear that he’d eventually lose what was really Peter Nureyev if he didn’t. And he knew that he was in love with Juno Steel.

As inconvenient as that was.

He would choose Brahma. Of course he would. He’d worked far too hard, suffered and lost far too much to let something like this derail him. What was this compared to what his father had died for, what Mag had been sacrificing?

What has his own silly heart compared to all that?

With that decided, Peter tapped out his report, going into a kind of autopilot as he gripped the guilty feeling with both hands and made himself feel it’s low, shameful burn, like grabbing barbed wire. Mission proceeding. Target will be accessible beginning next week. Holding steady until then. Apologies for the delay.

As if to hammer home how foolish he’d been, Mag’s reply came almost instantly, barely a minute after his own had disappeared from the screen to be scrambled, broken, reassembled hundreds of times over in the expanse of space so it couldn’t be traced.

Don’t scare me like that again. Look after yourself.

Peter winced and stuffed the comms back into his bag, turning onto his side to face the wall. Two more days. Then he could do his job, go back to Brahma with his broken heart in his chest and remember who he was.

And hopefully he would have at least learned something.

Peter tried to keep himself at a distance over the next two days which smacked of far too little far too late but at least he could tell his guilty heart that he was doing something. He didn’t participate in conversation as much as he had, he professed to having a lot of homework when they asked him to hang out with them after school, he told himself that the disappointment he saw hidden behind their expressions didn’t bother him.

But it was the change in Juno that made it almost too difficult to bear. Peter had never really felt anything like this before, let alone having it reciprocated so he didn’t know how much he was just flattering himself or letting his brain run away with its own fantasies. But there did seem to be something different in how Juno was when Peter was around.

He was still grumpy and surly, apparently that was his natural state of being, but he certainly wasn’t outwardly hostile since Peter had broken a nose for him. They were certainly friends now; he was part of The Oldtown Gang, as Mick seemed determined to dub them despite everyone in said gang refusing to go along with him. Juno sat next to him when they spent lunchtimes at their camp, he’d ask him if he needed any help in the classes that were supposed to be new to Ransom. Sometimes it felt like he didn’t really need to be sitting quite so close to Peter as they’d sit in their circle and trade jokes and insults back and forth. Sometimes Peter felt like Juno’s eyes were on him, like he was studying his face for something, but when Peter would look, Juno would just be staring at his class notes. Some smiles that Peter caught felt like maybe they’d been meant just for him.

But Peter told himself he was being a fool. Well, even more of a fool than he already was being by falling for Juno in the first place. But to imagine that he could actually be feeling anything similar was just a form of self torture. Even if there was a chance anything more than one sided could grow between them, wouldn’t he rather not know? It was already going to hurt enough as it was.

So Peter retreated inside himself a little, going through the motions of a normal day, barely paying attention as they lazed around in their makeshift hammocks and Ben talked excitedly about the overnight field trip they were apparently going on to Olympus City. At least until he felt everyone else’s eyes on him.

“Sorry, what?” he blinked, blushing a little under the look Ben was giving him, something knowing in it putting him on guard.

“I said it’s just going to be you and Juno over the weekend,” Benten hummed, swinging his legs, outwardly innocent but the teasing note was still in his voice, “You’ll have to promise to keep my brother out of trouble.”

“You’re not going?” Peter looked to Juno, who was giving his twin a warning look.

“Didn’t feel like spending more time than I had to with the assholes we call classmates,” he answered shortly, in the kind of way that suggested there had been another reason that he certainly wasn’t about to give up.

Peter didn’t need too much of his observation skills, after so long being friends with the Steel twins and knowing enough about the average situation of Hyperion High students, to guess that there had only been enough in their family’s funds to send one of them on the trip and that Juno had feigned disinterest so Benten could have it. He wondered how many times it had come down to that, how much Juno pretended not to care so his brother could afford to.

“Maybe you two could go to the movies or something,” Sasha said placidly, earning herself a scandalised ‘whose side are you on?’ glare from Juno, “Peter’s hardly seen any of Hyperion. And what he has seen isn’t exactly a glowing endorsement of the place.”

“If you can find me something that is, I’d love to hear it,” Juno scowled.

“Aw but sneaking into the movies is so fun! And Peter would be so good at it, they’d never catch him,” Mick agreed, prompting Ben to rest his head against his shoulder and regard Juno with a poorly concealed smugness.

“I’ve never been to the movies…” Peter said quietly, before mentally kicking himself. Do you want to be crying your way back to Brahma on Monday night?

Juno’s scowl deepened and his cheeks flushed, voice rising more than it needed to, “Look, I have plans with someone, alright? I’m busy. So maybe stop sticking your noses in for five seconds?”

There was an awkward silence as he sank back in his seat. Mick and Sasha sent quick pitying looks in Peter's direction, who pretended he didn’t see them as he stared at his hands like all of this wasn’t happening around him. He didn’t care. Why should he care? Benzaiten shrugged like that was the end of it but he was giving Juno a look that was impossible to read.

And Juno just looked everywhere but at Peter.

“Anyone catch the game last night?” Mick put in after a few agonising moments, his affable obliviousness always good for bulling past awkward situations, “‘Cos I didn’t, I realised ten minutes before the end that I was watching football rather than baseball, I was hoping one of you guys got the score…”

“Mick, it’s a completely different shape of ball, how the hell did you manage that…”

“Leave him alone, it’s hard to tell from a distance, right babe?”

First rule of thieving, Peter thought miserably, sinking deeper into himself while his friends continued on around him, bad decisions will always come back and bite you in the ass. So when one does, know you deserve it.

Peter sat in the middle of the bare, empty apartment and organised his roll of lock picking tools. Doing that always calmed him down and it had been a dull, frustrating Saturday otherwise. Just hours and hours of going through the same plans and schematics he’d memorised months ago, showing his path from the fence to one of the first story windows to the principal’s office to the server room to an entirely different window. In and out inside of fifteen minutes, enter with a flash drive full of malware, leave with it full of proof that New Kinshasa and a number of other corrupt outer world governments were laundering money through Martian construction contracts just like the one that had built this school. He’d done far more complex heists than this but with such lower stakes.

And with his back up slightly closer than across the galaxy.

First rule of thieving, there is no room for nervousness, if you can find some room then you should fill it with more planning.

With the outside world grey, cold and full of thin SimRain, there was little else to do. His takeout dinner arriving had been the only highlight in his day and now an equally dull night had settled in.

So he took out the thin silver lockpicks from their sewn in pockets and cleaned them fastidiously, one by one, making sure each type was in it’s exact place. They were a little bit of a novelty, in this age of bioprinting and retina scanners, but they were still called for on occasion and Mag had drilled it into him that no self respecting thief would be caught without the classics on hand. And besides, their comfortable, familiar weight strapped to his chest was reassuring. Like he could never fail as long as he had them close, precisely placed and polished until they shone.

The knock at the door was so unexpected, so sudden, that he slopped his cup of tea on the carpet, a few dark brown stains soaking in. Good thing he wouldn’t be trying to collect any security deposit.

He slid the plasma knife out of its sheath, pressing himself against the door with a cold, almost serene focus. He wasn’t expecting any visitors, his food had arrived hours ago. Which meant either the person outside his apartment right now was an innocent, mistaken bystander and would go after a few minutes of silence.

Or they weren’t. And more than tea would be getting spilled.

The knock came again and Peter tensed, his grip on the knife tightening. Had he made a mistake? Had one of his reports been traced despite their precautions? Had they found a flaw in his fake records? Either way, his breathing stayed shallow and steady as the seconds ticked by.

Another knock. And then a voice, rough and tired and very familiar.

“Ransom? You in there? Damn it, I was sure this was the right number…”

The knife disappeared quickly, “Juno?”

“Oh! Hi...um, hi Ransom...sorry, Ben gave me your address. Can I come in?”

Peter looked around his apartment, wincing. Explaining its state was going to be uncomfortable, it couldn’t look more like the hideout of a sleeper agent than if he’d hung a sign to that effect. But Juno sounded so lost…

He did what he could in the space of two seconds, emptying out his neatly packed suitcase and spreading the clothes around like he imagined most teenage boys did, hiding the papers under a half heartedly done homework sheet. The pile of unwashed mugs in the sink and takeout containers he hadn’t gotten around to throwing away yet helped.

“Yeah,” he called then, only just remembering to kick his tool roll out of sight, “Come in.”

Juno had a face to match his tone of voice. There were dark shadows under his eyes that had nothing to do with any eyeshadow, in fact he wasn’t wearing a smudge of makeup on him for the first time Peter had known. He wasn’t dressed in his usual way either, in an oversized t-shirt and pyjama pants with a loud cartoon pattern, the same little robot figure from the first shirt he’d seen him in. He just looked exhausted, wrung out and worn down, his lips turned down at the ends. He looked like someone who needed some comfort.

“Is...is everything okay?” Peter tried not to make Juno’s distress sound as obvious as it was.

It hadn’t been enough, Juno’s eyes were dark with shame as he stared down at his own sneakered feet and Peter’s slippered ones, “Look, I’m sorry I’m showing up like this. It’s not okay, especially since I...um...anyway, I’m sorry.”

Peter swallowed, “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

“I had a big fight with Ma,” Juno admitted, a tremor running through his voice, “She...she kicked me out. And with everyone out of town, I don’t have anywhere else to go. You’ve got every right to tell me to fuck off but...can I stay here?”

Juno and Benten had never said much about their mother. All Peter had been able to surmise, from his observations, was that she was their only parent and there was a huge weight around both twin’s necks because of her. He hadn’t pressed on the nature of it, he had no right to, and it wasn’t going to be any different than it was for so many kids in Oldtown. And more than a fair few on Brahma.

“Of course, Juno,” Peter said gently, stepping to one side, “Of course, stay as long as you need to.”

Juno mumbled a thanks as he stepped past him. If he found the lack of couch, stream screen, any kitchen appliances aside from a kettle or sign that this place was lived in at all strange, then clearly he felt he owed Peter enough not to say anything.

“Want some tea?” Peter asked, relocking the door, “I already ate but we could go get you something…”

“No, it’s okay,” Juno said quickly, “I’m asking enough of you as it is.”

Peter sat on his cot and sighed, “Juno, you’re my friend. I’m not going to hold every nicety over your head and present you with a receipt when you leave. I want to help you so just...let me?”

After a pause, Juno chuckled, the sound rough and raw in his throat but it was real. He slumped down on the floor next to the cot, leaning back against it so his head rested close to Peter’s knee, and sighed heavily.

“You know, there’s three people on the whole planet who don’t take my bullshit. My ma, my brother and you. But you’re the only person I like hearing it from.”

Peter smiled, though the pace of his heartbeat had increased a little. Juno was so close he could smell the shampoo in his curls from the shower he must have been having that evening.

“Benzaiten did ask me to keep you out of trouble. Checking your bullshit falls under that, I think.”

Something in Juno’s expression grew thin and the exhaustion showed through from underneath. There was enough of a pause that Peter wasn’t sure he was going to speak but then he did.

“It’s never as bad when Ben’s there. Me and her, I mean. It’s like he’s a buffer, stops things getting so nasty. He shouldn’t have to do it, I hate that he’s had to, but… it’s damn effective. With him gone, things just...they got out of hand so fast.”

Peter nodded slowly. He and Mag had their fair share of blow out arguments too, not that it had ever escalated to him being kicked out. Mag would never do that, he knew what having no roof over his head would mean to his protege, but he certainly knew what it was like to have said things you didn’t know could come from your mouth in the heat of the moment.

“Has she done this before? Put you out?”

“Yeah...sometimes with a reason. Sometimes not.”

“There’s never a good reason to do that,” Peter’s voice was more leaden than he’d intended but it was the voice of someone who’d been a child, promised protection by the world, but left out in the cold, “She’s an adult and you aren’t.”

Juno looked at him, clearly curious but he let it go after a moment, picking at his own wound instead, “If I’m not back in her good books by Monday, it’ll be a whole thing with Ben, he’ll feel bad about going…”

“You do this a lot for him, don’t you?” Peter asked softly, “Protect him. Pretend to not care about things so he can afford to.”

Juno shrugged heavily, gnawing on one fingernail covered in chipped polish, “What else am I good for?”

There was so much Peter could have said in that moment, answers that came rushing up to the tip of his tongue, some that surprised even him. But they’d start a conversation he really didn’t want to have, with Juno and with himself. So instead he just murmured, “Lots of things.”

Juno looked at him, something genuinely fearful in his eyes, like he knew exactly what Peter was holding back.

“Um...I think I will have some tea. If it’s still alright with you. Damn cold outside.”

“Of course!” Peter scrambled up and practically fled to the kitchen. It was hard to say which boy was the more relieved.

Peter could cope without a lot of amenities when he went out on jobs. First rule of thieving, never care about more than what you can carry in your pockets. But the first thing he’d bought when he’d gone on one of his short, necessity driven runs to the grocery store (a different one every time of course and dodging the cameras so he couldn’t be traced) was a box of good, high quality tea. He didn’t like coffee much, hated the tremble it put in his hands that could cost him his life in some circumstances, but he’d gotten a taste for tea very early on in his time with Mag. In fact, it had been the first thing his mentor had done, when he’d brought the scrawny, skittish, terrified young boy back to his home. He’d put a steaming, sugar laced mug in his hands that it had made it so much easier to believe him when he’d said everything was going to be alright.

He couldn’t give Juno much to ease his pain right now but there was some pride to be found in gladly giving him one of his few little parcels of sweet smelling, caffeine laced comfort. That much he could do.

Juno thanked him, hugging the mug close to his chest and pulling his knees in. Nureyev sat back on the cot, folding his legs underneath him and pulling the blanket over his knees. It was getting cold, he’d been right about that.

After a few moments and a few sips, Juno sighed and said without much surprise, “You don’t have a dad, do you, Ransom?”

Immediately, his shoulders tensed, well aware that he had absolutely no evidence to refute that accusation. And absolutely no back up explanation to speak of.

“Well…” he began awkwardly, very unused to having no way out of a situation.

“It’s okay,” Juno chuckled dryly, taking another drink, “I pretty much figured you were taking care of yourself over here.”

Peter swallowed hard, hand itching around the knuckles. The plasma knife he’d hurriedly shoved back in the holster suddenly felt very heavy, not that he was even going to consider that. He was also not going to think about what Mag would do, what he would urge Peter to do, what rules he would use to make Juno’s life seem a small price to pay for the mission. The same rules he’d saved himself with.

“Honestly, it’s impressive.”

Peter froze, “I...what?”

Juno’s cheeks seemed to colour a little and he could have been smiling into his cup as he sipped, “You’re here trying to make something of yourself. Trying to get an education and switch up the shitty hand you got dealt. Granted, you picked a terrible place to do it but...you’re trying. And that’s more than I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

“Trying…” Peter tried to keep his voice steady, “Yes. I’ve often thought that’s all a person can do.”

Juno nodded slowly, leaning back. His head was now leaning against Peter’s knee, enough that he could feel the damp of his hair, the comforting weight of him. He seemed so relaxed, so casual about it all, but Peter felt as if electrical shocks were sparking between them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so close to someone, had someone touch him in such a friendly way, such simple, easy contact. Only since he’d come to Mars. Only since he’d met Juno.

For some reason, he felt absurdly guilty. He should be relieved, his disguise had survived even under Juno’s scrutiny who, Peter was beginning to think, was one of the most annoyingly observant people he’d ever met. But in his stomach was just a yawning hollow, a sad kind of emptiness. Like he’d have actually been relieved if Juno had looked him straight in the eye and seen who he really was.

Like he was tired of lying to him.

“Hey,” Juno grunted, his voice sounding further away than it had, “There’s another party on Monday night when everyone’s back. You’re coming, right?”

Peter’s throat tightened. On Monday night, he’d be going back to Brahma, back under the glare of the lasers, back in the fight. Ransom would be gone, a few lines of information that winked out of existence as if they had never been, more than dead. That was the plan.

“Yeah,” he nodded, hand moving over to lightly stroke through Juno’s curls. He’d seen Ben do that on a few occasions and it seemed to comfort him, “That sounds good.”

Juno seemed to tense a little under the touch though only for an instant, as if he hadn’t expected it. But then it was gone and he was leaning into Peter’s hand gratefully, like it was everything he’d needed in that moment. His hair was so soft, winding through his fingers in tight curls that opened for him, parted like waves. The world shrank down to just the points where Peter’s skin met Juno’s, like that simple contact was all that held the universe in one piece. He didn’t feel the weight of a planet’s survival on his shoulders, he didn’t feel like a revolutionary before he’d even had the chance to feel like a person, he didn’t feel the questions he couldn’t ask like bitter metal resting on his tongue.

In that moment, this was all he had to do. He had to be there for someone else, just one other scared, sad kid like him.

“Thanks for letting me in, Ransom,” Juno murmured softly, his voice a contented rumble in his chest.

“I’d rather you call me Peter,” he replied, after a pause where he begged himself not to.

“Hm? Oh, sure. No problem, Peter.”

It wasn’t the name he wanted to hear from Juno’s lips but it was close enough. It wasn’t a lie, at least.

“You should sleep now,” he murmured, before his throat closed too tight to mask, “It’s late and you’ve had a long night.”

“Oh I can just stay down here,” Juno said quickly, opening one golden brown eye. Clearly he was seeing that there weren’t many other options. No couch, no chair, not even so much as a rug.

Just Peter’s cot, the one he was currently sat on. Well, if I’m destroying myself, I may as well do a thorough job.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he rolled his eyes like it was no big deal, holding out a hand to him, “Climb up.”

Juno blinked then shrugged, allowing himself to be tugged onto the hellishly uncomfortable little camping bed. It took a lot of awkward maneuvering to get both of them settled, there was barely enough room for one person, let alone two. By the time it was all done, they were nose to nose, limbs in a tangle.

Juno was the first to break, snorting, “God, I’m sorry, I feel like I’ve skipped about seven friendship levels…”

“Well, I did break someone’s nose for you,” Peter grunted, trying to shift so Juno’s knee was no longer pressing against his stomach, “Surely that grants me some higher access. Just pretend I’m one of the people you’re courting…”

Juno stared at him for a moment before breaking into helpless barks of laughter that threatened to upend their precarious little arrangement.

“What?” Peter demanded, flushing pink.

“Sorry, sorry, it's just...god, courting. I don’t think I’ve ever courted anyone in my damn life. Probably no one has since, like, the 1800s or whatever…” Juno cackled.

“I’ve changed my mind. You can go back on the floor.”

“Nuh uh!” Juno suddenly wrapped both his arms around Peter’s middle, holding them fast, “No take backs now!”

Peter was so glad he had something to blame the colour of his cheeks on, especially when Juno managed to get a hold of himself and chuckled, “God, you’re so cute…”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” he muttered quickly, trying to sound annoyed.

Juno did, apparently thinking it more comfortable to just stay with his arms around Peter, resting his head on his stomach. They were still for a few moments as their breath slowed and evened out, as the exhaustion clearly caught up with Juno as he realised he truly did have somewhere he could rest and know he was safe.

With whatever consciousness he had left, he mumbled, “I mean it, Peter. I really needed a friend tonight and you came through. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Peter whispered back but Juno was asleep before he was halfway through, his body getting heavier as his muscles relaxed and he gave himself over.

All we can do is try.

It wasn’t a rule but in that moment, as he lay in the darkness and listened to Juno Steel snore softly, it made more sense to Peter than anything he’d ever been told.

Before he could think, before he could realise what he was doing, he dug his comms out of his pocket and tapped out a message to the only number he’d ever used on this thing.

Plans have to be delayed. Security concerns. Tuesday instead. Apologies.

He sent it quickly, watching the text disappear, leaving him with a dark reflection of his own face on the empty screen. What have you done?

Before any reply could come through, he tossed the comms to the floor, rolling over as much as he could, enough to bury his face in Juno’s hair. He smelled of damp and clean shampoo, coconut and clean towels and night air. A honest, planetside scent.

He knew the guilt was coming, building up in his chest, ready to burn him from the inside out. But there was a whole night in between then, to cling to Juno and imagine a future he could never have, a morning where he would open his eyes and the first thing he’d see would be Juno Steel and remember that he’d done a good thing. He’d been there for someone when they’d needed him.

Like he said, if he was going to torture himself, Peter Nureyev was going to do it thoroughly. After all, what was he if he wasn’t good at his job?

#jupeter #juno steel #peter nureyev #high school au #tpp #penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #please reblog and comment!#benzaiten steel #mick mercury #benmick

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notyetneedcoffee · 4 years

Text

Old Fashion Way Pt. 7

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None this chapter

When you finally unlocked your apartment door and kicked it closed behind you, you could barely stay on your feet. The entire SHIELD complex went through extreme screenings before being allowed to leave the building. You were starving. Because of the bullshit, you never got dinner.

Kicking off your shoes, you dropped your purse on the hall table on the way to kitchen. That’s when you noticed. The scarf covering the table was wrong side up. You flipped up the silky fabric and opened the little drawer in the front of the table. The few mementos you kept there had been moved.

A movie ticket stub. A dried rose. A sketch on a napkin. Someone went through your things. Thankfully, nothing in your apartment could be directly tied to Steve. Unless, they could recognize his sketch of a fox.

You looked around, feeling uneasy. SHIELD went through your home. What did they leave behind?

In the kitchen you ate leftovers, leaning against the kitchen counter. Your brain was moving too fast to even register what you ate. There was no way Steve would ever move against SHIELD without reason. You trusted him, more than any organization. Now your work, your organization, was after him.

You had to find a way to stay safe.

If anyone out for Steve knew about the two of you, well, you didn’t want to think about that. Grabbing your nightshirt, you shut off the lights and changed in the dark. Laying there, your mind wouldn’t shut down enough for sleep. However, by the time the sun was coming up, you had a plan.

Getting up and dressing for work as usual, you left a few minutes early. Stepping into your favorite coffee shop, you let the one other person go ahead of you. So you would be alone in the shop. “Hey, Mandy.” You smiled at your favorite barista.

“Morning.” She smiled. “Want your usual?”

“Yeah, please.” You stepped up to the counter. “Hey, could I ask you for a favor? Could I use your phone real quick? I pulled a bone-head move on my way here.” You showed her your old phone with a broken face.

“Sure,” Mandy unlocked her phone and handed it over. You stepped away and quickly dialed your sister’s number. She answered with a sleep fuzzy voice.

“I need you listen and do exactly as I say. This morning call my cell and my work leave priority messages. I need to come home. Dad’s in a bad way.”

There was a momentary silence. Then she responded, clear and clipped. “Got it. Talk to you soon.”

You hung up. Her husband spent eight years working for the DOD. The whole family knew how to respond to an emergency and get the details later.

Handing the phone back to Mandy, you also gave her your coffee money and a generous tip. “Thanks for the help.”

“No worries. Have a great day!”

The morning went as planned. You received phone calls from your sister and then you put in for three weeks of emergency leave. Almost immediately, Angela arrived at your office door demanding you follow her. She led you to a small conference room, where you were left alone for more than three hours.

One of the agents finally came in, a folder in hand. He sat across from you. You leaned forward, spinning your empty coffee cup slowly in your hands. “Going to tell me why I’ve wasted half a morning here when I’ve got so much to do?”

“It’s a rather suspect time to put in for an emergency leave of absence." He replied.

You sighed. “It’s not, really. Dad’s been going downhill for some time.” You frowned. “You ever taken care of someone with Alzheimer’s? It’s awful. It’s exhausting, and it can go to shit at a moment’s notice.” You frowned hard at the agent. “I’ve got tons of leave on the books. Time that the agency owes me. This is my family. Are you going to make me chose between my family and my job, agent?”

“The timing is...inconvenient.”

“I’ll be sure to let my dad’s doctors know.” You swallowed, not having to fake your nervousness. “Don’t make me quit over this. Please. I don’t want to leave SHIELD and I sure as hell don’t want to sue because I was forced to quit under duress despite policy.”

“When were you planning to travel?” The agent opened the folder and clicked his pen.

“Nothing’s booked yet. Tomorrow sometime, next morning at the latest. There are several flights from DC to Seattle.”

“You’ll be gone how long?”

“I don’t know. I put in for three weeks. May be more, or less.”

“Where will you be staying?”

“Not sure yet.”

At that the agent gave you a suspicious look.

“My sister’s place is small. Emotions are running high. I may be there. I may get a hotel. I won’t know until I’m there. It’s not like I’ve had a lot of time to plan this.”

“Very well.” He closed the file, never writing a word. “Take your work phone in case any current activities require your input. Your leave is granted.” He stood up and walked to the door. “You’re free to go back to work now, and...” He paused in the door, glancing back. “I remember how rough my grandmother’s dementia was. I’m sorry.”

You were home packing after finding the latest flight you could justify taking. By nine o’clock tomorrow morning you would be on a plane to the Northwest. The scuttlebutt at work only got worse. No one at SHIELD seemed willing to outwardly say anything, but you gathered enough bits and pieces yesterday to hear Steve supposedly went rouge, Director Fury might be dead, there was a terrorist attack on one of the major roadways in Bethesda that wasn’t really a terrorist, and Agent Romanoff was missing.

Getting the hell out of Dodge was looking better all the time.

Your personal phone rang. Unidentified number. “Hello?”

“Sweetheart, don’t say anything but yes or no. Just listen.” Steve’s clipped voice came quietly over the phone. “You know I didn’t do what they say I did.”

“Yeah.” Your heart was in your throat. You had so many questions, wanted to say so many things.

“Things are bad, really bad. You need to get away from there. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” You answered, more determined.

Steve paused. “You already have, huh?”

“Yep”

“Good girl. Thank God.” He breathed. “Can you lay low someplace? Not at home?”

“Yeah.”

“Nearby?”

“No.”

He knew about your family. “West coast?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Really good.”

You could hear Steve breathing as you waited for him to continue. His voice dropped down to a whisper. “I don’t know how this is all going to turn out, but just in case, I need to let you know how much I... You brought part of me back to life that I thought died with that plane crash... thank you, Sweetheart, just thank you.”

You swallowed back tears, biting your lip to keep from saying all the things you desperately wanted to. The realization that this might be the last time you spoke with him, just hit you so hard that it stole every bit of breath from your lungs.

He heard your light gasp, a small sniffle. “It’s okay. Alright? You’ll be okay. I have to go. I’m sorry.”

The phone went dead.

You hung up and tried to swallow down your tears, you still didn’t know if your apartment was bugged our not. Instead, you finished packing, moving on autopilot. The band of pain wrapped around your chest made breathing difficult. You schooled your face to an impassive calm, much like you did when you dealt with your father. No outward pain to see.

Finally, the suitcase zipped up, you moved to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. Scalding hot water beat down over your head, poured over your face, as the pain unwound. Tears mingled with the water. You silently cried, wept for what you could be losing, released the tears from the tension and fear, until the water ran cold. Once dry and ready for bed, exhaustion pulled you into a deep sleep.

You’d gotten to the airport with plenty of time only to find out your flight had a two hour mechanical delay. So, you waited, and waited. Sitting at the lounge, drinking coffee and watching the morning show on the television, you debated on ordering lunch. It looked like two hours was an optimistic estimate.

The local news cut in to the show with an emergency. Three enormous heli-carriers were battling each other over the city, over SHIELD. You called out. “Hey! Turn that up!”

The bartender turned up the volume.

“...also getting reports of a massive data dump from somewhere within SHIELD. All initial indications seem to show that the Hydra infiltration included key positions, including the top director.”

Another news anchor cut in. “They’re going down! The carriers are indeed crashing. I sincerely hope anyone in the vicinity have been evacuated. We can see debris falling in all directions. The reports that Captain America led the team to stand against whatever the Hydra action may have been are yet to be substantiated. There are no official communications coming from any of our sources.”

You watched in horror as the heli-carrier busted apart and exploded, falling from the sky. One of the television anchor’s word rang in your ear. “Let hope he wasn’t aboard, because I don’t know how anyone could survive that.”

The phone in your pocket vibrated, making you jump. You looked at the number. Your sister’s. “Hey.”

“On the news. That’s why you’re coming home, isn’t it? You knew something was going to happen.” She sounded frantic.

“I knew something, but not this. I had no idea it was this bad.” You stared at the screen, unable to look away. Please, you silently prayed, let Steve survive.

“You didn’t know? Had no idea?”

“Of course not!” You snapped.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Your sister huffed. “You got a heads up, though. You were running.”

“Yeah.” You looked around, seeing you were alone and figuring there was no point in secrecy any more you answered. “I saw them, from my office, try to gun down Steve. He’s my friend and I know him well enough that he would never move against his superiors unless they deserved it.”

“Wait,” She paused. “Steve? Steve Rogers. You’re friends with...”

“Yes. Good friends. I trust him and I really hope he’s okay.” You curled into your seat, watching the footage on the screen.

“Are you still coming?”

The question took you by surprise. You really didn’t have to, not yet. Of course, you didn’t know if you even had a job now. “I think I need to figure a few things out first.”

“Okay, let me know. And sis, stay in touch. I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t worry me.”

“Promise.” You hung up, paid your bill and went to the counter to change your ticket.

It was late evening before you gave up and checked into a ridiculously expensive hotel room. Traffic was impossible. The city was on lock down. Every hotel room was taken. No one was moving. Still, it was relatively safe, food was available, and your credit card could handle the expense.

Flopping on the bed, you contemplated pulling out your computer to find more information while you ate room service. The news had been non-stop speculation. The details being pulled from the data dump were becoming more salacious. Still, none of it gave you what you wanted.

Close to midnight your phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, uh, is this Y/N?” A deep male voice asked.

“Who is this?” You knew that voice but couldn’t place it.

“Yeah that’s you. This is Sam.”

“Sam.” You breathed. You’d only met him the one time, when Steve brought him over to help you move.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that our, uh, mutual friend is alive and healing up.”

A whoosh of air left your body. “Thank god.”

“Don’t know how long it will be. Don’t know how messy the red tape is going to get either. Still, I thought you should know.”

“Thank you.” Tears, not so painful now, ran down your face. You could wait. Steve was alive.

TAGS

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #captain america fic #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers angst

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dreadnought-dear-captain · 4 years

Text

You Asked, I Told

Spoilers up to Chapter 37 of Baghdad Waltz

Hi everyone,

I’m so very sorry for being so late with getting Chapter 38 out. Writing that Spent Brass put a delay in everything, though it was really crucial to get it posted before this next chapter.

This has been a really tough chapter to get right for me. I’ve gone back to the drawing board more than once for a couple scenes. I’m not sure when it will be out, but I’m working on it daily and making some good progress. Thank you for sending me your words of encouragement and letting me know you’re thinking of me! I’m thinking of you too and know you’re really looking forward to more. It will be a doozy, in terms of content, so I hope it’s worth the wait.

In horrifying news, BW is turning THREE YEARS OLD on March 13th. Kill me. (But not before I finish this fucking thing.)

In the meantime, here are some answers to some Asks-------

Thank you so much for the very kind words. I’m so pleased that this story checks off so many of your boxes, and I’m relieved to know that the structure and methods I’ve chosen for storytelling have lent to a balanced narrative where you can appreciate both of these characters. I figure people don’t have to like each character equally, or at all. I just really want their choices make sense, for each character to have a distinct psychology, to have each action and reaction be believable, even if it is infuriating or illogical (it can still fall within the character’s internal logic, based on their own worldview). And I am so honored that this fic can serve as some inspiration for your own. God knows I have mine I go to on the reg when my stuff sucks and I can’t string two words together to save my life.

This is a deceptively silly question, I think (because I can’t keep anything simple). Working out together would be a nice little nostalgic throwback, wouldn’t it? I sometimes pop back to earlier chapters when they were in Baghdad and think about those times with a wistful smile. I think about the way they related, the way they looked, the relative lack of complications in their lives, and it’s such a profound departure from the way things are now.

Steve obviously has kept up his gym going with Matt. We’ve also seen that working out for him is about more than just being swole and hawt; it’s about control and regulating his emotions. And for Bucky, working out used to be a way of maintaining peak fitness for his career, which was one of the ways that he evaluated his self-esteem. If he was fit, he had value. Also, if he was fit, he was sexy, and we know that sexual capability is also one of the primary currencies he uses to determine his self-worth. He also used the construction of his physique as a way to develop his masculinity, the correct form of [gay] masculinity, rather than being a twink or a sissy. This was always a struggle against Bucky’s natural slim body composition, which has become his default again now that he’s been out of the military.

Now Bucky faces a couple of hurdles to exercise, whether he would do it for health or for building his physique. He has the challenges brought about by his many injuries - compromised grip in his left hand due to his massive forearm injuries and inconsistent rehabilitation efforts, ongoing pain in his right foot and a continued limp from that, significant back and hip pain due to very heavy load bearing and overcompensation from his foot injury. This would make it challenging for him to engage in any intense fitness program. What he really needs is to go back to physical therapy, and probably occupational therapy as well, but last time didn’t go so hot last time.

Even if he didn’t have to contend with his injuries, Bucky is at a bit of a crossroads in terms of how much energy he wants to put into rebuilding and maintaining his ideal physical self, which seems to be based on some prototype he picked up long ago (more on that in a future chapter). No chest hair, no body fat, muscles, a perfectly shaved asshole at all times… But he’s not 21 anymore. He has a boyfriend now. And even though he’d probably love to go to the gym to shoulder in on Steve’s time with Matt, I wonder if he would want to go for himself anymore. I wonder if going with Steve would be intimidating or make him feel pressured to fall back into his old patterns. Because now at least he has the excuse that he can’t lift heavy, that he can’t run, so he might as well not even try. But if he could, it would be interesting to see where his path would go as a 31-year-old man.

See? You thought it would be a simple “Yeah, there’re totes gonna go to the gym together, chapter 41, stay tuned!” or “No, probs not, I don’t think he’s much of a gym goer anymore.” Alas. I give no simple answers. This is why you have to wait 5 months for a BW chapter.

This is a good observation. Bucky loves himself a good drunk pizza. He also watches a lot of food-related TV when he drinks. Bucky has had to think a lot about food for various reasons. One is building muscle and physique when his body is telling him NO I WILL NOT. One is not eating so that he can get drunk faster. One is eating the right kind of diet so that he can have anal sex without having to worry about digestive issues (constipation, feeling too full, not being ‘ready,’ too much or too little shitting), which is a thing he would take seriously a hardcore bottom. I see things like pizza as a comfort food, family food, something Winnie would get for them every Friday night after they moved to New York. It’s a very emotional food for him, but he knows it’s “bad” for all of the aforementioned reasons, because it will make you fat and slow your buzz and stuff up your colon, so he might be most inclined to eat it when deep in a bender and doesn’t give a shit about those other things. Because Bucky not only drinks to forget and manage intense emotions, but he drinks also to just relax the relentless march of self-perpetuated, often absurd rules about what and who he is and what he can and should do. So yes, Bucky has some disordered eating, most of it functional, though a lot of his lack of eating recently is likely anxiety-related and/or stomach illness-related.

Another excellent observation. For those who might need a refresher, since this was in chapter 36:

The morning after Bucky shows up at Steve’s drunk and they have sex and many revelations are made about drinking during their relationship, Bucky gets honest about what happened the day before. He tells Steve: “I had my interview. It— I really don’t know how it went. I was so out of it. I’ve been so fucked up these past couple weeks. Just— it’s been bad. Really bad.” He tells the story of what happened at Scott’s. Steve asks why Bucky didn’t tell him he was struggling, and Bucky says that he didn’t want to get into it. Steve shifts in to talking about whether they should get back together.

I think there are a couple things here I could say. Yes, Bucky saying that he’s struggling is an example of some unusually straight-forward honesty that’s also a personal risk for himself. That’s a real measure of progress! But while I think this honesty is something that’s pretty new, the fact that he’s in a bad place mentally is not new information to Steve. I think back to the chapter before, after Bucky’s PT appointment with Luke, where he was clearly very distraught and having an extremely difficult time. Steve couldn’t get him to say what was happening then, but it was clear that it was something very major. So I don’t think this really felt to him like a major revelation, like Bucky’s really been holding it all together perfectly while imploding on the inside. I think this observation was more like, why didn’t you just TELL me you were struggling rather than having to have me wonder and then get wasted and come here drunk? Steve has a long history of asking Bucky if he’s okay and getting the brushoff. He’s probably starting to get tired of always asking and getting shot down.

Another part of your question is also very valid - is this the right time to get into a relationship?? Haha. Ha. Well, nobody said these two were good at making relationship decisions. But on a more serious note, Bucky having struggles is not only not new information for this month, it’s not new information for their relationship. Bucky has always had a secret life of pain that Steve has had to wonder about, ask about, beg to be let into, and he probably figures that one of the best ways he can affect change is if they’re in a romantic relationship. It will let him get close, give him some leverage, etc. So although it might come off as callous, Bucky’s struggles are the rule rather than the exception, and Steve probably figures he needs to get this relationship locked down so that he can get them into therapy and much-needed help.

Of course, there’s plenty of dramatic irony here, right? Steve doesn’t know what we know, which is that what Bucky is struggling with here is the REALLY BIG STUFF. He probably just thinks it’s his usual stuff. So. We’ll see where that goes. Bucky is going to maintain this illusion for as long as he possibly can.

Yes, @pitchforkcentral86 and I had several conversations about whether Bucky should have an animal. It’s a common trope in fic, and a joyful one to read. (Omg, I didn’t know about Alpine until now and I am thrilled!) And yes, service dogs, emotional support animals, therapy animals, pets, they can all be very healing, can provide meaning and purpose, and can also help to structure the lives of people who feel destabilized in various ways.

However, I have held back on giving Bucky an animal because a) his aforementioned history with animals, and b) I’m not sure if that’s what he needs at this point in his journey. I do really think Bucky has some sort of healing that needs to take place around animals. He loves animals. He loves nature and is a true soft boy (TM) who has been deeply hurt by his experiences. It was very inconsistent with his values to do the things he did, see the things he saw, and it’s so painful that he doesn’t know how to reconcile it.

But he’s in such a precarious place now emotionally, with such low resources, and he can barely even share the smallest pieces himself with other humans. People are a lot more complicated, yes, but animals are a lot of responsibility. He would be so hard on himself if he didn’t do a good job, if he didn’t react well to his animal companion, etc. And I think it would probably be more bang for his buck to devote that energy to trying to increasing his emotional intimacy with his partner or his sponsor or other important humans in his life who are asking for his trust. He could GO BACK TO THERAPY EVEN.

I do think something that would potentially be helpful and pretty low resource cost is to have a therapy animal in his life, like something he could go periodically, a therapy dog at the VA or something he could visit and pet once in a while. It would be a good start.

But that’s just my thinking for this character specifically. I think service/emotional support/therapy animals are wonderful and can create incredible bridges for people to improving their quality of life.

Well, that’s all for now! I will continue plugging away at BW and will get it to you as soon as I can. Thank you, as ever, for your patience! And thank you for the wonderful Asks <3 <3 <3

#YOU ASKED I TOLD #send me asks #thank youuuuu #baghdad waltz

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hollywwav · 4 years

Text

Climbing the Corporate Ladder (DiaDop fanfic)

I'm working on the next chapter right now! I hope you like it and don't forget to comment!

READ ON AO3

Summary: The new president and his young assitant come to change things for good on Passione Inc., a company dedicated to make up and female beauty.

The young boy is secretely in love with his boss, but thanks to an embarassing accident he will have the chance to get more closer to him! Or not...?

An AU where Doppio, the Bucci gang and other characters work for Diavolo, with the special participation of La Squadra!

Warnings: none.

Chapter 1:

ＰＡＳＳＩＯＮＥ™ Empress Liquid Matte Lipstick

After some months of back and forths, this was the change that Passione Inc. Needed since a long battle with sale drops, unproductivity and a really uncomfortable laboral ambient. The employees of Passione weren’t really amused to welcome a new president, mostly because of the fear of another group of severe managers and supervisors, the complete re-structuration of the company or, worse of all, the posible chance of massive layoffs. The business destiny was uncertain, and this was possibly the last opportunity to avoid going bankrupt. But maybe, just maybe, changes don’t have to be necessarily bad, right? Why not being optimistic just for once? Maybe it couldn’t be that bad to have a new male president for a makeup company...

Diavolo was the perfect man for the position. A clever, determined, and experienced man with a short but sucessful career in the world of female beauty. Too impressive, but also too “misterious” and portable of a “dark menacing aura” that most of the employees could not stand and tried to avoid as much as possible. A total opposite of him was his assistant, Vinegar Doppio, a cheerful young man that sometimes was too clumsy and distracted, and sometimes too shy at interacting with other people. But everyone in the company liked him anyways, he was really pleasant and interesting to talk too, everytime he had a break after serving his boss the lunch or a cup of coffee.

“He is too harsh with everyone around him!” told Mista to the young boy while helping him with some fallen documents.

“I think I heard him yelling at you this morning, did he?”

“What? Of course not! He must have been talking to his daughter on the phone!” said Doppio with a little blush in his cheeks and looking down a bit nervous.

“Also... he always treats me respectfully...”

Oh yes, Doppio was working for Diavolo since some months ago and now he was deeply in love with him. He couldn’t resist his imponent presence, elegance, his deep voice, his misterious green eyes and, god, that lovely long pink hair... Everything about Diavolo was enciting. It was really difficult to concentrate on the daily work when he had such a desirable man around him most of the time, then things got worse when the boss started to smile and talk to him more confidently, and even he started to call him “my Doppio” after being used to his joyful presence and great efficiency in the organization and personal tasks.

“Ah... why do you have to torture me saying that!! it's not fair...” said Doppio to himself while daydreaming with those dark lips caressing his.

“My Doppio ... you do such an excellent job ... I need to reward you in some way ...” said the boss in the boy's imagination, letting him sit on his lap and lifting his chin up reaching for his little soft lips. Doppio just closed his eyes and corresponded the kiss.

"Oh, boss ... you're so nice with me ... I love working for you ..."

Unfortunately, those daydreams were just that. Daydreams. Doppio heard the boss was married to a beatiful ex model called Donatella Una, and they had a teenage girl called Trish. The same girl that sometimes called the boss begging for money for new shoes or to negotiate her remain days of grounding. Doppio didn’t know about Donatella because he wasn’t really interested in the fashion world, and Diavolo didn’t like to talk about his family or private life. But of course, it was totally logical to have a model or celebrity as wife when you're a rich and sucessful bussiness man. Anyways, if Diavolo wasn’t married or if even he liked men, there would be no chances at all to conquer his heart. Why would him fall for a childish and simple boy like him? He wasn’t tall, strong or intelligent like his boss. And after some recent rejections, why would Diavolo -of all the people- would accept him so easily?

With a deep sigh and a slight sense of pain in his chest, he accepted the reality.

“It’s ok... at least I can work with him and enjoy his company...” said Doppio to himself with a sad smile.

But Doppio was wrong. So wrong. Diavolo desired him secretly as much or even more than he thought since the day he saw him in the HR department for the job interview. There were few candidates, but after personally checking his CV he decided Doppio would be the ideal person for the position, so after talking with Bucciarati from human resources, the boy got the call of approval.

The first days were a bit uncomfortable and the boy felt weird for being with such an important person, but he gradually got used to Diavolo’s personality and did his best to meet his needs. Most of the time the boss was busy and participating from meeting to meeting, but when he had a spare time he liked to talk to Doppio about his day and other trivial things. Diavolo was pleased with the boy’s job performance and mostly with his lack of bad intentions, something he was used to expect about most of the people of the bussiness world.

“God... he’s so cute and works ten times better than the last assistant I had...” said the boss to himself daydreaming with that cute butt and adorable freckles. Diavolo loved the sight of those round buttocks and nice thighs every time his assistant bent down looking for a fallen pen or searching for an specific document in the lower drawer. He loved those amber eyes, tiny nose and pink lips but most of all, his cheerful and caring personality. Diavolo desired him with so much yearning. He wanted to declare himself but didn’t exactly know how to. On the other hand, a cute and lovely boy like him must have a couple.

“I just want to grab him right here... I want to touch him... mark him... oh, I want to fuck him so badly... But I can’t do something like that, at least not that way...I’m sure that he would be terrified and he wouldn’t know how to react. But... such a nice boy like him sure has a girlfriend. Can he possibly like men? If so, he would like men like me?... Maybe he just sees me as his boss and nothing else?...”

Diavolo was getting nervous asking himself those questions but he had a company to lead, and tons of problems to solve, so he tried to forget those thoughts at least for some days.

That was a terrible week and it was just Wednesday. An issue with the internet network delayed the work, Diavolo had an argument with the marketing director, the sample pigments for the new palettes came with a color mistake, and several employees were sick because of the winter weather. Doppio was healthy but lately more stressed due problems with his department, and now he was running late to Diavolo’s office with mineral water, a pair of folders and receipts. The boy entered the office to discover his boss on the phone, scribbling on a piece of tissue since he couldn’t find anywhere to write between the mountains of paper above his desk.

“I’m sorry, boss. The elevator is on maintenance and mr. Bruno told me to give you this” -said the boy placing the folders in the chair- “Let me help you with those... papers” Doppio had to take a pause while talking to admire his boss’ outfit. He was wearing a dark burgundy suit, black shirt with a red tie matching his dark lips, a pair of dark gloves and reading glasses.

“Oh my god... he looks so hot!!” thought the boy with a flushing face, trying to look elsewhere.

“Doppio! I need to talk to you about the next week schedule, do you have a minute right now?”

“Of course, boss” the boy tried to just look at Diavolo’s hands, instead of his hot figure.

“I know I already asked for various re-schedules but please, could you book me an hotel for next monday? I need to reunite with these people in Venezia, unfortunately there is the chance of closing some subsidiaries and...”

Diavolo just kept talking while moving his hands but Doppio couldn’t resist to his boss presence, he was totally ignoring what he was saying at this point.

“His voice is so enchanting... oh... I wish he could say he loves me with that deep voice... I want those arms holding me tightly... I need him... I need him so much...”

“What's wrong with him? He looks feverish ... ”thought Diavolo watching his assistant's face growing hotter and sighing heavily, with half lidded eyes and semi-opened red lips.

“Umm... my Doppio... are you ok?” Diavolo just tilted his head down a bit and he found the cause of the boy’s condition. He stopped talking, changed his serious expression to a smirk and got his hand closer to his lips, teasingly.

“My Doppio... am I distracting you, right? I don’t blame you, it’s inevitable...”

“Uhh... what! Oh-of course not, boss!! I’m listening!” said the boy snapping from the daydream, and obviously lying to avoid getting scolded.

“Excuse me, but then... why are you so hard right now?”

“...”

“whaaaaaaaa...?” the boy looked down, and efectively, his dick was completely hard and asking for some release. Doppio looked at his boss, then at his erection and then covered it with both hands. His cheeks were completely flushed, and now tried to hide his face, incapable of pronouncing any word.

“How cute... I should not make him think I’m laughing at him...”

Diavolo chuckled a bit and smiled, he really was enjoying looking at the boy in this peculiar situation, but then...

“I-I am... I am sorry...!! I’m so sorry, boss!” said the young boy trembling and crying huge amounts of tears. He started weeping uncontrolably.

-“I can’t believe this is happening!! I’m getting fired! I ruined everything!! Now he thinks I’m gross... he won’t forgive me... I’m so fucking stupid!!”-

Doppio just covered his face, trying to not look at his boss, and kept crying. He looked like a filthly brat in front of his boss. Why this had to happen now? Why exactly in this moment? Why can’t he stop being so horny all the time? He never was so ashamed like in this moment. Diavolo changed his smile to a serious look again and got up from the chair instantly when he heard Doppio sobbing.

“It’s ok, Doppio. Don’t worry.” “Shhhh... don’t cry. It just happens, sometimes for no reason...” Diavolo hold him tighly and cleaned his tears away. He didn’t really wanted to make him cry.

“I-I... I’m so embarassed... I didn’t want to offend you, boss! Please!... forgive me...”

“I said it’s fine, my Doppio. I won’t punish you for this, don’t worry...”

“B-but... I...” The boy was really confused. Why his boss was comforting him so nicely? why didn’t he yell or slapped him? why he looked like this situation was ok?

“A-aren’t you mad at me?”

“Of course not, my sweet Doppio”

“...sweet???...” thought Doppio, most confused than ever.

“But why?”

“Well... basically, it’s not your fault... that’s something we can’t control over, right? And that gets worse when you... are in front of somebody... that you really like... right?” Doppio looked at Diavolo directly at his eyes, completely speechless.

“Am I correct, my Doppio? This reaction was because of me?”

Doppio’s eyes were big like plates, he was trembling and unable to articulate any words.

“My Doppio. I am your boss, and you should obey all my orders, ok? Now I’m ordering you to tell me the truth... Do you like me, Doppio?”

The boy hesitated for a moment and then gave up. He just looked down, waiting for the real punishment.

“Yes, boss... I do like you... I want you...” he pronounced the last words like a whisper, almost bursting into tears again.

“Good”

Diavolo quickly tilted his chin up and smashed his dark and plump lips to the boy’s trembling ones. Doppio instantly opened his eyes and the boss hugged him more tighly. The boy was unable to react. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even breathe, and then, after some seconds that seemed like eternity, the boss broke the kiss with a fine thread of saliva connecting their mouths.

“Ah...” said Doppio with the face red as a tomato, too shocked to say anything else.

“I am so glad to hear that” said his boss looking at him with lustful eyes, licking his lips for a second round of making out.

#myfics #mywork #diadop #diavolo #jojo #doppio #vinegar doppio #jjba #jojo fanfic #diavodop #jojos bizarre adventure #corporate!AU #alternate universe - modern setting #boss/employee relationship #sfw in this chapter #sfw

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baldwin-montclair · 5 years

Text

Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 10)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: After the S1 Finale, TV Show canon MOSTLY (some S2 and Shadow of Night).

Summary: Passions run high when Alisha and Baldwin return from the auction as considerations over the future of their relationship arise.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary

———

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

PART 9

———

“Wait,” Alisha fought to keep her head, Baldwin’s lips on her throat making that rather difficult, “don’t tear the dress, it’s too pretty!” She pleaded, fearing for the about to be scattered buttons that held it closed at the back.

The quiet growl of frustration from him did not help to temper her excitement either.

They had barely gotten in inside the apartment when when he pounced, her back against the heavy door and his suit jacket and bow tie discarded on the floor beside them.

However, just the mere seconds she delayed him caused an obvious change in his demeanour, as though that tiny window of opportunity allowed an equally small kernel of rationality to get through.

“Baldwin?” She started, already sensing him emotionally withdrawing.

“I can’t do this to you,” he swallowed hard, backing away from her, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not doing anything to me Baldwin, I can assure you I am very much a willing participant in this.”

“I’m not talking about sex, Alisha, I-“

“Neither am I. I told you, I love you and I want to be with you. I thought you felt the same way.”

“How I feel is irrelevant.”

“Don’t do that, if you’re going to protect your unfeeling asshole image then at least have the guts to not skulk off like you’re in some Jane Austen novel.” The sudden outburst of anger shocked him momentarily.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about!”

“Really? Do you think I didn’t notice poor Gallowglass jumping to attention when you commanded him?”

“I don’t know what you think you understand, about me, my family or my obligations but I promise you that the one thing the De Clermont’s do not need is their head distracted because his mate is in danger!”

It took every once of restraint she had not to meet his angry words with her own.

She stayed silent for a moment, trying to control her breathing - and seething fury - sensing him awaiting the next barb, like an embattled warrior preparing for another onslaught.

When it didn’t come, he ran his hand through his hair, seemingly at a loss.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly after a moment.

“I know,” she held out her hand for him to join her and he reached out and took it, allowing her to pull him into a warm hug as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, “do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Not particularly,” he answered, “but I don’t believe I have much of a choice.” He answered resignedly and released her from the embrace.

“You really don’t.” She agreed.

“We have a lot to discuss, you should be comfortable as we do so.”

“I’ll meet you back here,” she moved to leave before realising, “um, bit awkward but I really do need help with the buttons.”

A light chuckle escaped his lips, seemingly wiping clean the bad atmosphere between them.

He made a circular gesture with his finger, a signal for her to turn around and she did, trying not to think too hard about his fingers brushing temporarily against the skin of her back as he worked carefully.

“It is done.” He stated simply but paused to place a light kiss on the nape of her neck.

“Ah, that is nice.” Alisha sighed in relief as she massaged her scalp after removing the last of the hairpins, freeing the strained follicles.

She decided on borrowing yet another one of Baldwin’s shirts to wear, massive on her but so very comfortable and he did suggest that she should be comfortable.

When she left the room and found him, leaning against the sofa, shirt sleeves rolled up, she felt less unsure with her choice of dress.

Alisha was unconvinced that he didn’t know just how good he looked like this.

“Fortunate that I have so many shirts.”

“I can go change if you prefer?”

“I won’t have it, even if you are very distracting.”

“Me?” She answered with mock offence, giving him a frank look up and down before taking a seat on the sofa.

“Of course. As radiant as you were in that dress - and you were - looking as you are now I don’t think I’ve seen a more stunning sight.” He said smoothly, taking a seat beside her.

“You were going to tell me what happened, don’t try to distract me with charm.”

“I hoped that would work.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Very well.”

Alisha raised her eyebrows in encouragement for him to continue.

“Give me a moment to think.”

“I was in there for ages, you had plenty of time to think of what to say.”

“I did, then you emerged, like that, and I forgot what I was going to say.”

“You’re doing it again.” She accused.

Baldwin held his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, what we were about to do, I knew it was the line.”

“What line?”

“The point of no return. If we continued, it would mean that we are mated and I couldn’t do that to you without your full understanding of what that meant.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been celibate since becoming a vampire?” She asked disbelievingly.

“Gods no!”

“Then why-“

“They weren’t you. I cared for many, even loved a handful but they were not my mate.”

“So, if we had sex, that would mean we’re like vampire common law married or-“

“Not even close. Marriages can be annulled, broken in divorce. To become mated is to do so for life, all of yours and all of mine.” He explained.

“Would I need to be turned?” She asked with trepidation

“No,” he answered abruptly, “there’s no guarantee a siring would be successful and if it wasn’t, it would kill you.”

“Okay-“

“There’s something else to consider.”

“Which is?”

“Vampires cannot biologically reproduce, I cannot give you children.”

“Why do you assume I want children?”

“You’re of age, fertile-“

“Neither things mean I have to have my own.”

“You don’t like children?”

“I love them, I help out at a musical camp every summer. I just enjoy giving them back to their parents at the end. Did you have children, before?”

“Not that I know of. Unlike you, I don’t really have the patience for dealing with them.”

“You’ve never had to deal with them, I bet you’d go all Papa Bear if you did, you’re exactly the type.”

“Unlikely.”

“Have you sired any vampires?”

“One. Her name is Miyako, a ferocious warrior when she was a human. As a vampire, she’s unstoppable.”

“You sound proud of your daughter, Baldwin. It’s kind of adorable.”

He rolled his eyes at her teasing.

“Will I meet her at some point?” She asked, hopeful.

“That depends on you.”

“I still haven’t shown I understand what mating means to your satisfaction?”

“The fault is not yours, I have kept the most difficult aspect until last.” He admitted.

“Which is?”

“Obedience.”

“Excuse me?”

“Exactly. Not as simple now, is it?”

“Baldwin, you know this world and the dangers, I don’t. If you’re saying that I have to follow instructions to be safe then I will-“

“I’m not...saying that. I’m saying that I am the head of my family and as my mate, you would be part of that family. You would have to obey me in all matters, as they must, if not more.”

“That seems slightly medieval.”

“Perhaps, but it’s the best way to keep order amongst creatures who would rather see one another dead, and that is not going to change. It’s a necessary ultimatum, I’m afraid.”

“Why do I get the feeling that if I can’t accept that, I don’t get any of you.”

“It’s not vindictive, it’s what needs to happen.”

“What is? We just never see each other again?”

“Yes. I would of course see to it that you had a good life, new country, new identity. The mating instinct lies with me, you might be...upset for a time but you’ll move on.”

“Will you?”

“Don’t concern yourself with me, I know how to be on my own.”

“And I know what I want. The same thing I wanted before, I want you. I agree to your conditions.”

“You’ll obey me without question?”

“Yes. If I don’t trust that every command you give is for a good reason then I can’t claim to truly love you, can I?”

“And if my first command is to make temporary peace with Gerbert until we have the means to utterly destroy him?”

“He killed Michael.”

“Guillermo killed Michael.”

“On his orders!”

“Did Guillermo tell you that?”

Alisha averted her gaze.

“He’s dead, it’s not like he can disagree.”

Baldwin shook his head and tilted her chin with his finger to force her to look at him.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No.”

“Then we have no proof, yet.”

Alisha sighed in resignation.

“He’s not getting the drive.”

“I didn’t say he was. As far as he knows, it does not exist. When, and only when he is no longer a threat, may you continue Michael’s work. Do you accept?”

“Yes.” She answered after a moment.

“Wait here.” He told her and disappeared off to his office, returning a moment later to take a knee in front of her.

“Seriously?” She smiled.

“If we’re going to do this,” he started, removing a small jewellery box from his pocket, “we’re doing it right.”

He opened the box to show a stunning precious round cut opal set in a circle of diamonds with a bright titanium band.

He gave her a look of concern.

“Alisha, please breathe.” He reminded her as she’d inhaled sharply upon seeing it but had not yet exhaled.

“I don’t think I can. It’s-“ she stopped, at a loss.

“An Opal, I‘ve had it for over two thousand years. Mark Anthony tried to buy it from a Senator, planning to gift it to Cleopatra but my father wanted to cause a rift in the Senate. Philippe bade me purchase it instead. He wasn’t interested in the stone so he told me to keep it, that it would be of use one day.”

“Are you telling me that this stone was almost given to Cleopatra by Mark Anthony?”

“Yes, and had he been successful in placing it on her, the devotion it signified would pale in comparison to the devotion it bestows on you now.”

She had to congratulate him for finding a non-trite way of saying that he loved her more than Mark Anthony loved Cleopatra.

“Alisha Black, do you accept me, Lucius Segeric Benoit Christophe Baldwin De Clermont as your husband, mate and master from this breath until your last?”

“I do.”

Baldwin removed the ring from the box and slid it onto the ring finger of her left hand.

“Is that...it?”

“For the Congregation, my family,” he stopped himself, “our family, and every creature, that is it. For human legalities, we will have to file some paperwork, which can be done at Sept-Tours.”

“Don’t we need a priest to officiate.”

“I wasn’t aware you were devout,” he smiled, “Mrs Montclair.”

“I’m not, I just thought we needed an authority to-“

He cut her off with a kiss.

“I am the authority, and you just promised to obey me,” he cupped her face in his hand and lightly stroked his thumb over her bottom lip, “any regrets Little Nightingale?” He asked.

“None,” she shivered in anticipation, “My Lord.”

She deliberately responded with the name that excited him as much as the one he’d uttered excited her.

“Careful.”

“Or?”

“Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes.”

It almost happened in a blur, his leading her into the bedroom and closing the door behind them. She reached out to begin work on the buttons of his shirt but he stopped her.

“I suspect you need some practice in obeying your husband. Close your eyes.”

She opened her mouth to ask why but the mock stern look he gave, stopped her, and she she gave into his order.

“Good, now, you are going to keep your hands down by your sides and not move unless I tell you to.” He told her from somewhere in front of her. His footsteps were so quiet it was impossible to determine his location unless he was speaking, and he had stopped.

When he did make his presence known again, it was to begin to unfasten the buttons of the shirt she was wearing. His command to stay still was severely at war with her self-consciousness when he reached the bottom button.

Fortunately, he did not immediately open the garment but instead traced a line from her neck to her navel with his cold fingers.

He then withdrew his touch, leaving her unsure as to his location.

“You’re doing very well” He praised from behind her as he placed a possessive kiss on the side of her neck.

“Thank you.” She answered, anticipation, arousal and adrenaline causing a heady mixture of emotions, and her knees to grow slightly weaker.

“I’m right here, you can lean against me,” he assured, “I’ll never let you go.”

Accepting his gesture she relaxed against him, allowing her head to fall back and rest on his shoulder. Her movement caused the fabric of the shirt still concealing her breast to fall open.

Without thinking, she moved to put it back where it was and felt Baldwin’s posture straighten.

“Sorry.” She said quietly and he seemed to relax again.

“Forgiven.” He answered, before sliding the shirt from her shoulders, to the floor, leaving her in just her underwear.

This caused her to gasp slightly in surprise.

“Alisha?” He asked.

“I’m fine.” She managed to squeak out.

In response, he pulled her back against him and she realised at some point, he too had disposed of his own shirt, the skin on skin contact making her want to move, to turn and face him.

“Do you want me to stop.”

“No, but I want to touch you.”

“Patience.”

Baldwin’s actions became plain to her. She’d promised to obey, she’d accepted him as her husband and master and he repaid this trust by demonstrating the benevolence of his rule. However, this also meant that it was moving at exactly the pace he set and she had no choice but to surrender to his will.

Only when he was satisfied she’d accepted this, did he turn her to face him.

“You can open your eyes.” He told her but she had a plan and kept them closed.

“Can I also please move?” She asked, appealing to his authority.

“No.”

“As you wish, My Lord.” She answered, trying to hide impatience.

“I did say you could open your eyes.”

“You said I could, you did not command me to do so. If you were to command me, I would, of course, obey.”

“I won’t command it, I’ll instead leave that to My Lady’s discretion.”

She could almost hear the wolffish grin in his words, a challenge that had been accepted.

“Are you trying to retain some control here?” He asked.

“I’m not.”

“No?” He challenged, his hand closing over her left breast as his thumb brushed circles around her nipple.

She could only shake her head in response to his question, the sudden direct contact in the sensory semi-deprivation he had her in ignited her nerve endings and she had to bite her lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape.

“Are you sure? Your heart is beating so fast, I can only deduce that you’re either lying, or...”

His hand wandered down to the edge of her underwear, hesitated a moment and slipped under the fabric.

This moan, she had no power to suppress.

“You can move.”

She opened her eyes, relieved and instantly wrapped her arms around his neck to lean up and kiss him. His arm around her back held her upright against him as his fingers explored.

He walked her over to the edge of the bed and laid her down before removing the last item of clothing she had on and throwing it off to the side. He, however, was still in possession of his trousers and she tried to sit up to relieve him of these.

“Not yet.” He pushed her onto her back gently

She huffed with impatience and he brushed her cheek with his hand.

“I have no wish to hurt you,” he explained as he positioned himself between her legs, “I intend to make you ready before I take you.”

Alisha swallowed hard as she watched him kiss the inside of her thigh.

“I’m not exactly experienced Baldwin but I’m no virgin either, you won’t hurt me.” She assured him.

“There’s no rush, we have all night.”

“But-“

The sudden sensation of her husband’s infamous ‘silver tongue’ cut off her protest. The reputation had been earned through his skill of negotiation and deal-making but it turned out his talent with it far exceeded this narrow field.

It also didn’t help that she was completely unprepared for the degree of pleasure this action elicited having never experienced it before. She’d slept with exactly two men in her life and neither had a fraction of the skill as was being demonstrated upon her at that moment.

“Baldwin, please,” she gasped, shaking her head and trying to pull away before she was too far gone. But with her now shaking legs over his muscular shoulders, she couldn’t get far. There was no earthly way she could be more at his mercy than she was at that moment.

“What is it?” He asked with patience, continuing the delicious pressure with the pad of his thumb whilst he playfully nipped at her thigh with his teeth.

“I need...I want you...inside me, when I-“

He place one last kiss where he’d been attending and stood, allowing her to unfasten his belt and undo his pants, all the while he was admiring her face, her blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

It didn’t take long for her to determine his concern for her comfort.

Having seen plenty of statues from the time Baldwin was human had led her to severely underestimate the size of Roman men’s endowments, judging by the one before her.

“Lie back.” He told her softly and she obeyed, moving further up the bed and watched him cover her body with his own.

It wasn’t until the early morning hours that the newlyweds had thoroughly consummated the union to their satisfaction and slipped into a blissful sleep.

Alisha awoke to the light in the window and, given the early winter’s sun, deduced it had to be close to noon. She was still resting against her husband’s shoulder as he was absently tracing patterns on her back.

”How long have you been awake?”

“Not long. I don’t usually require sleep two nights in a row but last night...” he trailed off.

“Did I exhaust the great and powerful Baldwin De Clermont?” She shifted her position to look up at him.

“Yes, you very much did, Mrs De Clermont.”

“I thought I was Mrs Montclair.”

“You’re both, however, De Clermont by marriage is your title amongst all creatures. According to the humans, you are Alisha Montclair.”

“And you’ll have to write all your names down for me, I don’t think I got them all.” Her smile faltered.

“Sweetheart?”

“Your family, will they accept me?”

“They don’t really have a choice.” He shrugged, unconcerned.

“That’s not as comforting as you think it is! Please tell me Marcus and Gallowglass are the most difficult members of your family to win over!”

“Somewhat.” He lied, picturing the expressionless fury of Ysabeau upon discovering his hypocritical taking of a daemon mate after how he reacted with Matthew mating with a witch.

She’d met the two most genial and easy to get along with members of the De Clermont clan. He was unsure how his sister Verin would react. Marthe could be won over, he calculated. Matthew was gone for the foreseeable future so he was no issue.

“Your mother, is she-“

“Step-Mother, Ysabeau was my father’s mate and she will be accommodating. We will leave today, file the necessary paperwork and only then do we speak to the Congregation.”

“But we’re not accusing Gerbert.”

“No, but we must submit our union to their consideration nonetheless.”

“I don’t understand Baldwin, you said-“

“Stop,” he answered gently, framing her face in his hands, “it will be alright. The witches will be against but I can convince Agatha to have the daemons vote for us.”

“Do you get a vote?”

“I do.”

“Gerbert is your enemy, he will vote no.”

“Yes, but Domenico will vote in our favour, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Five to four.”

“See, no need to worry.”

“What about the Covenant, I thought that was ironclad?”

“It was. But, after the escapade with Matthew and Diana, I relaxed the covenant rules somewhat. It’s no longer completely forbidden but any prospective couple must make a request to the Congregation. I can’t argue for it and then not adhere to it myself.”

“Okay.” She told him, unconvinced he should be so certain.

“Alisha,” he cupped her chin to maker her look at him, “I’m good at convincing people to act in my interests. But make no mistake, I will rip open the throats of any who would dare try and take you from me. Is that understood?”

“Yes.” She answered, a lot more sure about her answer than before.

“You are my wife and my mate. You will love and obey me and I will protect and adore you.”

“I am yours to command, My Lord.” She grinned.

———

PART 11

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darlingrutherford · 4 years

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Once Upon a Time in Thedas update!

You can all thank @schoute not only for that amazing piece of Lanistair art the other day, but also for singlehandedly turning my heart into pure fluffy nonsense and helping me finish up the next chapter of my DA Cinderella AU. Without further delay, here’s chapter four of Once Upon a Time in Thedas! (Under the cut)

Trigger warnings for this series for mentions and scenes of mental/physical abuse.

Lana was floating on a cloud. She had felt that way since the previous night, falling asleep with a dreamy smile on her face and waking up with it still present. She couldn't get the ball out of her head, least of all Alistair. She knew it wouldn't do well for her to dwell on the memory of him and the time they had spent together, but she couldn't help it. She could still feel his hand on her waist, hear his laughter and smooth voice. Maker, she had never seen anyone look at her the way he had, as if no one else at the ball had existed and she were worthy of his attention. And the feeling of his hands. His touch had been so soft. When had anyone touched her that way before? As she swept the floor, Lana swayed side to side, humming to herself as she imagined the two of them on the dancefloor, together once more. Would he be there again that night? Would he want to dance with her again? She barely knew him, and yet she knew she would give anything to dance closely with him again, if only for one more night.

Is this what love feels like?

Her heart fluttered as the question crossed her mind. Red rushed to her cheeks, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth as she floated with the broom. Her feet mirrored his, following the pattern of one of the slower songs they had danced to. If she closed her eyes, it was almost as if she were there…

“How can you expect to see what you're sweeping when your eyes are closed!”

Lana was jarred out of her daydream, reality crashing into her as her mother smacked her ear. She tried to control her wincing as her ear stung, quickly returning her gaze to the floor as she swept faster.

“Sorry, mother,” she said quickly. Her mother huffed, mumbling under her breath as she returned to her work in the kitchen. Lana hummed no more, but the smile slowly crept back as she swept, as the feeling of Alistair's hands on hers returned and led the way.

That evening Leliana returned once more, once the sun had long since set and Lana's parents had gone to sleep. This time Lana was ready, waiting at the window for the moment Leliana’s silhouette appeared in the garden.

“You're awfully eager to return, aren't you?” Leliana teased as Lana quietly climbed out her window and carefully closed it behind her. Lana smiled eagerly as she followed Leliana, waiting until they were away from the house before she spoke.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day,” she said, her voice still a whisper despite how far they had walked into the woods. Leliana led her to the same spot as before, and Lana eagerly changed into the blue dress and golden slippers.

“You danced with that tall man for some time,” Leliana said with a knowing grin. Lana blushed at the mention of Alistair, her heart pounding eagerly. “Is he being kind to you? Sometimes nobility can be a bit pushy.”

“I’m not so sure he’s a noble,” Lana said. Leliana had moved to her back, undoing her braid and resetting it into one looser that ran towards her back. She twisted the hair at the sides, weaving it through the braid.

“No?” Leliana smiled as she finished with Lana’s hair before looping her arm with hers and starting off towards the main road.

“He made jokes about some of the nobility quietly a few times. I’m not sure if that’s something lords do?”

“Is that what you two were giggling about?”

“He is awfully funny,” Lana said. She barely paid attention to everything they passed on the way to the palace this time, too engrossed in her thoughts about Alistair and her excitement of seeing him again. “I hope he’ll be there again tonight. Do you think he will be?”

“I’d be very surprised if he wasn’t,” Leliana said. If Lana didn’t know any better, she would have thought the way Leliana spoke about Alistair sounded almost teasing, as if she knew him. Still, Lana supposed, Leliana was a Sister of the Chantry. She must have known a great many people.

As the two of them walked up the great steps into the palace and inside, Lana looked around the hall, observing everyone. All the ladies seemed to be in dresses and gowns more extravagant than the night before, some glittering with gems while others had intricate embroidery hand stitched to expensive fabrics. One of the women walked by, wearing a gown gold in color with shimmering lace and a skirt that dragged on the ground. Lana felt the judging glance as the woman looked Lana over from head to toe, apparently recognizing her dress from the night before. The woman smirked with a huff and a proudly tilted chin as she walked by. Leliana patted Lana on the shoulder, giving her a quick wave before slipping off into the crowds. As Lana began looking around, she jumped as she heard a loud bark from a door near the back of the hall. Quite a few guests jumped out of the way of something Lana couldn’t see, until a great grey body running on four legs found its way through the crowd and stopped suddenly at her feet. Lana had never seen a mabari in person until then, however she had read about them in books and quickly recognized the face of an intelligent creature pining for attention as it barked up at her.

“Hello there,” Lana said sweetly. The mabari was massive, with its nose parallel to Lana’s chest. She reached out, petting the dog on his head. The dog eagerly pushed his nose up against her hand before directing her hand behind his ear.

“He’s obsessed with ear scratches.”

Lana looked up, her heart pounding as she found Alistair walking towards her with a huge smile on his face. He had completely stepped around the woman from before and a group of others, and for a moment Lana wondered why they all looked so perturbed.

“Is he?” Lana’s voice practically cooed as she looked back at the dog, curling her fingers and scratching behind his ear as his tongue flopped out excitedly.

“He’ll never let you leave now,” Alistair chuckled. “Not many of the guests enjoy when he crashes the party.”

“Well, they don’t know what they’re missing, do they?”

Alistair smiled as Lana gave Bryn another pat on his nose before the dog took off towards the other doorway.

“I had almost thought you weren't coming,” he admitted. Maker, but he couldn’t stop smiling now that she was there. The night so far had been so dull without her. Even something as simple as hearing her voice was enough to raise his spirits and calm his racing mind.

“After last night, how could I not?” Lana responded with a bright smile, looking up at Alistair with warmth in her eyes.

“You left so quickly, I wasn't sure… Did I say something wrong?”

“No! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I, well… Had a curfew,” she said quickly. She didn't want to lie, but, ‘My parents don't want me here. Or out of the house, at all,’ was difficult to say. At least it wasn't a complete lie.

“Well, that's a relief,” Alistair said, visibly relaxing as he breathed out the words. “You've only just arrived… Do you want to… Eat something? Have a drink? Dance again -”

“Dance! Yes, that would…” Lana paused to clear her throat, blushing at her own eagerness that had caused her to interrupt him. “I would love to dance with you again.”

“After our practice last night, I think I may step on your toes fewer times than before, but I make no promises.”

Lana was on a cloud again, and this time, Alistair was with her. Everyone else in the hall seemed to fade away as they danced together. Alistair held her closer than the night before, never taking his eyes off of her as they talked, and laughed, and danced as one. More than once Alistair caught Lana humming along to the music, sometimes caught up in a song of her own, and each time he felt his heart fill more and more for this woman who had wandered into his life. As far as Alistair knew she was still blissfully unaware that he had recently been crowned King, and for the moment he was happy to keep it that way. For now, the woman who had more than once rested her head against his chest as they swayed to the slower songs only to straighten with a furious blush when she noticed, she was doing it because she felt comfortable, with him. With Alistair, not the King. Not the man people had been clamoring to speak to only for the hope of becoming his Queen. Somehow, miraculously, they had found one another, and he knew he couldn't let her slip away again.

“You'll be sick of dancing with me by the end of the night,” he joked as yet another song ended.

“I don't think that's possible,” Lana replied. Pink covered her cheeks, flushing towards her ears as she blushed. As another song began, Lana waited for Alistair to lead, tilting her head curiously as he paused.

“Come with me,” he said quietly with a grin. His hand left her waist, though his other gently squeezed her hand as his fingers laced with hers. Lana followed him as he led her off the dancefloor, weaving through the crowds.

“Where are we going?” Lana asked. Her heart was pounding as she bit her lip, her smile growing as he looked back at her.

“I wanted to show you something,” Alistair explained as he gently pulled her to the side. Lana followed him along the side of the hall and out a set of doors that led to a balcony. Outside it was much quieter, the sound of music and merriment drifting in from the hall inside. The night air was cool, wrapping around Lana and causing her skin to prickle. She paid no mind to the cold as she gripped the stone railing, her eyes fixed on the view of the palace courtyards and Denerim beyond, all seemingly peaceful in the light glow of torches.

“It's beautiful out here,” she breathed in awe. She had never seen the city like this from such a height, all the stars in the night sky twinkling down on them. Each night of the ball seemed like such a dream to her. She took her time, gazing out at the world in front of her, storing it in her mind for another day when she would need it most.

Alistair watched her, smiling at the way she looked at the world as if it were her first time seeing anything like it. The way she looked at everything was so innocent. Anyone else may have glanced at the view and turned away, but she was in awe of even the smallest things. Lana turned to look at Alistair, smiling as she found him watching her.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Yes. Well… Not exactly,” he admitted. He smiled sheepishly as he scratched just behind his ear, his eyes wandering to the stone railing as he tried to find his words. “I… Well, you see, I… And you are so…” He trailed off, huffing slightly as he tried to focus. Maker, but this was more difficult than he had thought it would be. He looked over to the side, regarding a cluster of climbing roses that had reached the railing. He smiled, carefully picking one of the red roses from the branches. Twirling it in front of him for a moment, he finally found what he wanted to say.

“Denerim is large. There are so many people, but… It can be a bit empty. Ever since I came here from Redcliffe, I've had to strain to find anything that stands out from the rest. But, beautiful things seem to hide in plain sight, I suppose. Like this rose. Or… You.”

“Me?” Lana said it quietly, unsure if she should be shocked, flattered, or if he was out of his mind. She flushed from ear to ear as he offered the rose to her with a smile, feeling something akin to electricity run through her as their fingers brushed.

“I don't know if I should be upset, or thrilled that you don't seem to know how beautiful you are,” Alistair chuckled nervously. “But… If I don't tell you now, someone else is bound to, and I can't… I don't want to miss my chance… May I kiss you, Lana?”

“You want to kiss me?” Lana repeated in disbelief. She could feel heat rush to her face as he nodded and stepped closer to her. His hand wrapped around hers that held the rose as he leaned low. Lana's free hand raised to meet his arm as he steadied her, her grip tight as his lips met hers. Maker, but it was as if fireworks had set off in her mind. His touch was so gentle, so warm.

“Maker, I'm sorry,” Alistair mumbled quickly when he gently pulled away, and Lana quickly wiped away the tear that had fallen from her eye without her even noticing.

“No, please, it's not - it's a good thing, I think,” she said quietly. Her heart was pounding in her throat. Against her better judgement, ignoring the warning bells in her mind, she couldn't help herself. She found herself pressing onto the balls of her feet, stretching to get as close to him as possible, and Alistair eagerly met her the rest of the way. His kiss was like air. Each time their lips parted for a moment she would press back, and he in turn, each melding to the other as her lips quivered and his heart threatened to burst from his chest.

“Your Majesty! A word?”

Lana thought little of the words at first. Then, as Alistair begrudgingly pulled away from her, horror set in to her gut as he turned to face the man who had called for the King. Alistair gave Lana a regretful smile, taking her look of shock for general embarrassment from being caught kissing than anything else.

“I'll just be a moment. Don't go anywhere, please,” he said, bringing the back of her hand to his mouth and giving a much longer, warm kiss to it than the previous night. As Alistair walked to the other end of the long balcony to speak to the man, panic took over Lana. He was the King. Maker, but he had made that joke about sharing the same name - she had taken it only as such, a joke. She had just kissed the King of Ferelden.

“You need to spend time with the other noble ladies you have yet to speak to,” Eamon was muttering in a low voice. “You cannot expect to find the next Queen of Ferelden if you spend all your time with one elf.”

“Yes, it would be a shame if I spent the entire evening with someone I connected with, wouldn't it?” Alistair responded sarcastically. “I know you have your list, but this woman is perfect. You should meet her -”

Alistair held his hand out to gesture towards Lana, turning his head and stopping mid sentence as he saw her dashing back into the hall. Not wanting to lose her for one more night, Alistair took off after her, leaving Eamon behind as he shouted after him. Alistair had difficulty getting through the hall, groups of lords and ladies both blocking his path as they vied for his attention. Each time, Alistair would profusely apologize as he ran around each group, trying to keep his eyes on Lana as she grew further and further away.

Lana's heart was pounding. Her watering eyes made it difficult to see as she tried to best remember how to get out of the palace. Maker, she was an idiot, thinking she could sneak out and have nothing bad happen. Her parents may not have caught her, but she had fooled royalty, tricked him into caring for her even in the slightest when she wasn’t fit for anyone. Surely that would carry a grand punishment on its own.

“Stupid, stupid Lana,” she muttered with a quivering voice. Tears fell as she ran, her skin prickling as the cool night air met her. Her feet carried her quickly down the steps that led to the courtyard. She had nearly reached the bottom when she tripped, catching her ankle with her other foot. She cried out as she tumbled down a few steps and landed on the ground.

“Maker, my shoe,” she groaned as she got up. She began taking a step towards the stairs to retrieve the shoe that had slipped off in her fall, but the sound of Alistair yelling her name from just beyond the doors at the top made her stop. One shoe on her foot, she slipped through the gates and ran into the night.

By the time Alistair reached outside, Lana was nowhere to be seen. His heart sunk, confusion setting in for the second night in a row. He walked down the steps as something gold caught his eye, crouching as he picked up the small shoe. He stared at it in silence. Had it been something he said? Had he kissed her too soon? She had seemed to be enjoying it, had she only been being kind when she kissed him back? She hadn't seem to know the first night that he was the King, had it shocked her too much? He held the shoe close to him as he stood, taking one last look around, and praying to the Maker for her return the following night before heading inside.

Lana didn't stop running until she returned home. Out of breath, she removed the shoe and dress before stashing it in the brush near the tree her and Sister Leliana often spoke near - her parents would not venture near there, opting to stay inside as it had been so cold as of late. She would see Sister Leliana the following morning for her lessons, and return it to her then. Climbing quietly through her window, Lana slipped on her nightgown and threw herself beneath her covers. She curled into a ball, hugging her knees as she cried. Maker, but what a fool she had been. She had made a fool of Alistair as well - the King. Both of these nights he had been at her side, not knowing how unworthy she would be of the title of Queen. He had wasted all this time with her when he could have been finding the perfect woman for him. No matter who he had been, it would have been a fairytale to expect her life to change after three nights. She had gotten wrapped up in the fancy of it, of being looked upon so favorably by his beautiful eyes. How could she possibly face him again after that night? Tomorrow would be like any other day: just her, her parents, her curse…

“Maker, forgive me,” she whispered to the dark.

#once upon a time in thedas #dragon age #cinderella!au #alistair theirin #alistair x surana #lana surana #lanistair #fanfiction #my ocs #my work

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katurrade · 6 years

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Come Back to Me - The What Ifs (19/?)

The What Ifs is part 19 of “Come Back to Me” an AU series. This takes place right at the end of Book 3 Chapter 10, following the bombing of the palace. In this story Chapters 11+ never happen. This is going to be a slightly angsty, slightly fluffy story and is following the story line that is Riley and Liam are engaged and are supposed to be getting married. This was written on my iphone and fyi each chapter will be pretty long! Tagged long post! Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, PB does. I’m just borrowing them.

Pairing: Liam x MC

Rating: PG. Just to be safe!

Summary: Liam gets an evening visitor then retires early for the night. Riley wakes up in Valtoria for the first time......Pearls, views and chicken, oh my! Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 3,570 ish.

Tagged List: @blackcatkita @captain-kingliamsqueen @mrsdrakewalkerblog @umccall71 @hopefulmoonobject @speedyoperarascalparty @melodiouskeys @theroyalweisme @alicars @bobasheebaby @annekebbphotography @writtenbycandy @queencatherynerhys @ranishajay @blznbaby @jared2612 @bella-ca @mitalijoshi @lodberg @scarlettedragon @romanticatheart-posts @queenof1000days @lostinthe-pines @kennaxval @leelee10898 @jayjay879 @lizk77 @nazariobae @sstee1 @tornbetween2loves @elegantcowboyflappie @carabeth @ao719 @sarwin85 @cocomaxley

Side Notes: If you would like to be added to the tagged list for this, I can make that happen ;)

Guys and Gals, I’m so sorry for the delay of this chapter, I hit an inspirational wall and just needed some time to work through it. So thank you for being so patient with me, and thank you to those who reached out to see how I was. You all make me feel so special. This chapter is a filler chapter, of sorts. Not many big moves happen in this one, but it’s where my mind took the story and I’m just happy I was able to even get here. There is a flashback scene though, hopefully that makes up for the rest of the chapter! Now just to see if I can kick this mental wall down! Fingers crossed and enjoy!

Liams POV - Day 6 (Evening)

The door slowly opened and a small man, dressed in formal office attire entered with a bow. “Good Evening, Your Majesty. I’m sorry to interrupt, but Dr. Young is here and has requested to see you..” he shut the door behind him before continuing “If now is an appropriate time?”

This must be my assistant... “Of course,” he said as he took a second to open the folder on his desk, the one with the list of staff names. This was a name he should have memorized sooner. His eyes glanced over the page until he saw the name he was looking for “...Thank you, Markus. You can send him in” The small man bowed again, then exited the room. Liam stood and walked around his desk to greet the doctor as he entered the room. “Good Evening, Alex.”

He bowed “Good Evening, Liam. I apologize for the late hour, but you are a difficult man to track down,” he chuckled “Who knew finding a free moment for the King would be so hard.”

Liam laughed “You’re telling me.” He reached out and shook Alex’ hand “Please, sit” he gestured to a chair then walked back around his deck to sit.

Once Alex was seated, he placed his bag on the floor “How are you feeling, Liam? Any headaches? Or episodes of lightheadedness?”

“Not really. Though, I did have a slight headache last night, which was accompanied by a memory” he smiled at the thought.

“Oh? Are you starting to remember more?”

“Sort of. The last year is still mainly a blur, but there are moments I vividly remember as if they happened yesterday. It’s hard to explain, my memories are ....blotchy at best. If that makes sense?”

Alex nodded “It does. It’s like you have only half the pieces to a puzzle?”

“Yes, exactly”

“How is your balance? Any issues with walking?”

“Nope...” Liam scratched the back of his neck “..No issues with running either”

Alex’ eyes widened “Running?”

“Yes, I did a little running earlier but had no problems”

“Well then, I guess that is good to hear” Alex reached down into his bag to retrieve his stethoscope, pulse ox and blood pressure cuff “Mind if I just check your vitals quickly?”

“Of course not” Liam answered as he rolled up one sleeve of his dress shirt to his elbow. Alex stood and walked around the desk and took his vitals quickly. He then retrieved a pen light from his pocket to check Liam’s pupils. After a moment “It appears you are in good health, though, have you been nauseas or vomiting at all?”

“No, I have felt pretty normal actually”

“Perfect,” he put the equipment back in his bag “then I believe that is all I need for now” he picked his bag up off the floor and turned to Liam “I’d like to come back in a few days to see how you are doing, if that works?”

“Of course, just speak to Markus on the way out and he will give you some days and times”

Alex nodded, looking at the half glass of scotch in front of Liam “I ask that you take it easy, Liam. As you aren’t entirely out of the woods yet, and we want to make sure you continue to stay in good health for years to come”

Liam smiled, understanding what Alex was politely referring to “I will, in all areas” and with that Alex smiled and left.

Liam finished off the last few sips of his scotch, knowing that would be his only one tonight. Heeding Alex’ words he stood and headed towards his room. It might have been to early to sleep for most, but he was exhausted, to say the least. Both mentally and physically. And he knew his mind and body needed the rest.

Plus, if he was being honest with himself, a part of him just wanted to get through these next 2 days as fast as possible. Not only because of the emotions around the funeral but also because of his anxiety around getting Riley back. He needed to make things right. He had to.

Upon entering his room, he crossed the floor to the back wall to change. Retrieving the ring, bracelet and phone from his pocket and depositing them on top of his dresser, once again. He then removed his clothes and pulled on a set of pyjamas. He went to turn around to head to bed, when the bracelet caught his eye. He glanced over the now 3 objects that didn’t belong to him, yet were all still in his possession. He picked up the bracelet to look more closely at it, wishing he could remember the story behind it.

Objects seemed to be his memory triggers, he was starting to notice this trend. He held it in his hand and shut his eyes tightly, hoping it would trigger something. Anything. But after a few moments, nothing had happened. No memory. No headache. No nothing. He sighed heavily then returned the bracelet to the top of the dresser, before turning around and climbing into bed. He laid there for a short while, his mind racing with the what ifs.

What if, she doesn’t want me back. What if, I am too late. What if, I have ruined things for good. He could feel himself heading down the rabbit hole, but luck was on his side this time. Before he could go any deeper into the abyss, everything went dark. His mind finally shutting off, entirely. Exhaustion taking him over and allowing him to sleep.

—————————-

Rileys POV - Day 7 (Morning)

She awoke in the pitch black to a loud knocking on her door, then it opened slightly, letting in a sliver of light “Your Grace..?” She heard coming from the now ajar door. “Gladys?” She asked groggily as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, followed with a yawn and a stretch. “Yes, Your Grace, may I enter?”

“Of course” she responded as she blindly reached out to try to find the nightstand, in the hopes there would be a lamp on it.

“Here, let me turn on some lights for you” Gladys offered as she crossed the room, flicking on a few lights as she went.

Upon the light beginning to fill the room, Riley kicked her legs off the edge of her bed and took in her surroundings. Her room was bigger then the whole of her old apartment back in New York. She hadn’t realized how massive the room was in her tired state the night before. Her eyes widened as she peered around, first at the massive canopy above her, then at the huge floor to ceiling drapes beside her. Ones she was sure were most likely covering giant windows.

“Would you like to see the best part of this room?” She asked. Riley nodded and stood up “I’d love to”

Gladys then walked over and drew back the massive curtains, relieving the most spectacular view Riley had ever seen. She made her way over to the beautiful, glass french doors just as Gladys opened them.

Riley stepped out onto the balcony and was speechless. The rolling mountains with a river travelling between them were like nothing she had ever seen before. She could have never fathomed, in her wildest dreams, that a view from her bedroom window would be this breathtaking. She began to wonder if this view had played a hand in his decision. If it was part of why Liam had chosen this exact dutchy for her. Had he ever seen this view before? Was there some meaning behind why he picked Valtoria for me? If not, what would he have thought of it, if he were standing beside me, right now— She shook her head. She couldn’t think like that, those thoughts only made her heart ache more.

All the what ifs and lost moments would threaten to drown her if she gave into them. If she focused on them or thought about them. Even for a moment. He was gone and she needed to come to terms with that lose. But how? How could she just let go of him, of what they shared. Would she always wonder what Liam would think, how he would react to a certain incident or view. Was this her life now? Something amazing happens, or she stumbles upon something beautiful beyond compare, and her first thoughts are of him, of what he would think. How depressing. How utterly exhausting—

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Gladys asked.

The words pulling her back out if her mind “Yes.... it’s breathtaking..” she responded, not turning her eyes away from the view in front of her, as tears began to pool in them. The realization that she only had herself to share these moments with now. “I can’t believe this is my bedrooms view..” she whispered, more to herself. Trying to focus on the positives, instead of all the negatives.

“If you would like, I prepared you some breakfast. Along with coffee, tea and fresh squeezed orange juice. Would you like to take your breakfast on the balcony?” she asked. Riley nodded “Yes, please Gladys”

She walked away and Riley took the opportunity to quickly wipe the tears from her eyes. Gladys returned shortly, with a cart covered in an assortment of different foods and drinks “I wasn’t sure what your morning preferences were, so I figured I’d give you some options.”

Riley turned to her “That was very sweet of you, thank you. By the way, I am a coffee drinker and love a good American style breakfast. Bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast. The works.” she moved over to the patio set and took a seat as Gladys poured her a cup of coffee “What do you take in your coffee?”

“Just 2 and 2” she responded. Gladys nodded, quickly adding the cream and sugar then placing the cup down in front of Riley. She then transferred all the food and drinks to the table.

Riley looked at the massive spread now sitting in front of her and one dish stood out... “Gladys...What is this dish called..?” She pointed to some weird variation of what looked to be ...chicken..?

“Oh, that is Pollo a La Brasa, or Peruvian grilled chicken, Your Grace. It is normally a dinner food, but here in Cordonia it is somewhat of a breakfast delicacy..”

Riley furrowed her brows at the dish “Is it any good...?” She asked hesitantly as she poked at it with her fork.

“I believe so, but everyones palates are different. I’d recommend giving it a try”

She nodded as she pulled a small piece onto her plate. She cut a little slice off and touched it to her tongue, gingerly. A surge of flavour danced on her tongue “Mmm. Gladys, this is amazing!!” She said just before she put the while piece in her mouth.

“I’m glad you like it, enjoy your breakfast, Your Grace. I will return shortly so we can begin our tour” she said as she bowed.

“Sounds wonderful, Gladys. Also, please just call me Riley. Your Grace is just so ...formal”

“Of course, Riley” she agreed then headed back into the bedroom and left.

Riley picked up her mug and turned back to the view “I don’t think I could ever get used to this” she sighed and took a sip of her coffee.

“Knock, Knock!” she heard from her room as Maxwell and Hana emerged through the french doors. Both stopping dead in their tracks. “Oh my...” they said in unison. “This view is spectacular, Riley!” Hana added.

“That it is..” Maxwell said with a smirk, though he wasn’t looking passed the balcony railing, he was starring directly at the food covered table.

Riley chuckled at Maxwell’s obvious meaning “Would you like some breakfast, Maxwell?”

“I thought you’d never ask” he eagerly said as he quickly sat down and started to load up a plate. Hana reluctantly pulled herself away from the view and joined them at the table. Riley smiled at her friends then turned her eyes back to the view. At least I have these two to share these small moments with now...

—————————-

Liams POV - Day 7 (Morning)

His head silently emerged from the scintillating waters if the Blue Grotto, taking in how the light shinned of Riley’s fair skin. Her back was to him, and he took the opportunity to watch her, for a moment, without her knowledge. Wanting to commit this wonderful moment to memory. “Okay, Liam, you’re starting to scare me...”

The fear in her voice making him decide it was time to give up his perfect viewing position. As her peace of mind was more important to him now. “Over here!” He called out. She whirled around and a relieved smile took over her face. Causing Liams heart to flutter at the sight. “Oh, there you are!” She said.

He held on tightly to the oyster in his hand, hidden behind his back. Ever since the moment they had arrived in Italy, all he could think about was this pearl. In the year since he had originally stumbled across it, it had never been so much as a thought in his mind. Filled to the back with the other unimportant memories. That is, until the day he finally realized his true feelings for Riley. It had been at the Forgotten Falls, the blue waters must have kicked up the dormant memory of the pearl. “I’ve got something I want to show you.”

He swam a little closer to her then extended out his hand, palm up, presenting the glistening, perfectly round pearl. Which was still nestled protectively in between the oysters shells. Riley stared at it, then up at him briefly, before dropping her eyes back down to the pearl. “That’s lovely! How did you find it so quickly?”

“I was here last year with my brother, and I found it while we were diving. He told me it would win the heart of any woman I gave it to. But there wasn’t anyone in my life I wanted to win over. So I left it here, hiding it back in one of the crags. I thought that if it was meant to be, I’d find it again. Knowing that it was here... and that I finally had someone I wanted to give it to...” he could feel the heat rising in his face, despite the cold air, making him undeniably sure of the blush now on his cheeks “Well, I couldn’t wait to see if I could locate it once more.” He paused upon seeing the smirk on Riley’s face. They locked eyes for a moment before he looked away, feeling rather bashful of his admission “It sounds rather silly now that I’m saying all of this out loud to you... but...” he looked back to her “Would it please you to have this?”

She swam a little closer to him, erasing the small distance that was between them. She cupped one of her hands under his “This pearl? Oh, Liam...” she looked up at him, with so much sincerity in her eyes, as she put her other hand on top of his. Now holding his in both of hers “Wait to give me this until my name is cleared. When I can tell people that you gave it to me.”

He smiled at that thought, that one day, maybe soon, they could be together, openly. No more hiding, no more secret rendezvous, no more stolen moments. Just them, together, engaged and in love. “Okay, then I will keep it. For now.”

His smile quickly faded as he saw the shudder that rushed through her, causing the water around her to ripple. “Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

She smiled meekly at him “It is getting chilly in here.”

“Let’s get out of the water for a bit. Shall I take you back?” He asked honestly, though he dreaded her responce. He wasn’t ready to end the night this early.

“Not just yet. I can manage.”

“Good.” He happily let out the breath he was holding “Honestly, I’m not ready to give you up just yet.”

He reached out and took her hand, leading her over to an outcropping of rock, just at the waters level. He climbed up first, turning to offer his hand to help her up. “Come here, I’ll help get you warm.”

Once she was out if the water, he sat down on the rock. He was just about to pulled her close but before he could, she settled in next to him. Pulling his arm around her shoulders as she tucked herself under it. Her head coming to rest on his chest. He smiled as he placed a soft kiss to her hair before resting his chin on top of her head.

After a moment of just enjoying the peace and quiet of being alone, in each others arms, he feels Riley take a deep breath “Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk about?” She asked quietly, as if unsure she even wanted to ask.

Her question reminded him of the second reason for their visit to this grotto, his brows furrowed “Yes, I’ve...” he lets out a deep sigh “perhaps been avoiding it.”

She braces a hand on his chest and sits up to face him. Worry written on her face, though she smiles encouragingly at him, as if trying to ease the topic out of him, gently.

He studies her face, taking in every beautiful inch of it. He raises his hand up to move a wet lock of hair off her forehead to behind her ear, his finger tips trailing down her jawline to her chin. His eyes following the path as they go. Once he reaches her chin, he slides his thumb gently across her lower lip then flicks his eyes up to meet hers. Hoping it will help ease her mind, even just a little. Or maybe it was more to ease his own.

“These past few weeks have been so hard on both of us. I have been putting one foot in front of the other to get through it, but...” he removes his hand from her chin and takes ahold of hers “Living like this... it isn’t fair to you. I’ve never felt so powerless. There’s only one action that I can take to change this.” He frowns.

“And what’s that?” She asks quietly.

Here it comes. “Abdicating the throne.” The words finally being spoken aloud is like an instant weight lifted from his shoulder. He had thought it many times over, over the course of the engagement tour. But it had always just been that, a thought. Now, now it was spoken, it was out there, it could be reality. It could be within his grasp. She could be.

Her eyes widen instantly upon hearing the words “What?”

“Ever since my brother abdicated, I’ve known I would marry for the benefit of Cordonia. I had made peace with that.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles “But then I met you, and I allowed myself to hope that I could marry for Cordonia and for love. Now ...” he frowned at the next words he was about to speak “I don’t want a loveless marriage, and I’ll never have anything more than that with Madeleine. There’s this thought I can’t shake off... what our life could look like together. You and I. Without the court and the Crown.” His mind filled with images of their elopement, a small, private wedding ceremony with just their friends as witnesses. Riley in a beautiful, simple white dress. Saying there vows just as the sun sets, the fading light catching in her hair. He couldn’t contain the smile forming on his lips. How happy those images made him feel in that moment. How he wished more then anything for them to come to fruition—

He awake to his alarm with a smile on his face. The bracelet had, in fact, jarred a memory loose. It may not have been his memory of the pearl bracelet itself, but clearly pearls meant something more to him. Something more to them. He wondered if he had ever given her the pearl, or if he still had it. He looked around his room for a few moments, wondering if it was stashed somewhere inside these exact 4 walls, or if she had the pearl and had chosen to keep it.

The smile on his face grew wider at that thought. Leaving him feeling even more resolved to the fact that he needed to fix things with her. He knew in this moment, that she had changed him forever. He would have easily, and gladly, given up the throne for her, before... How he could have let things get to this point was beyond him...

He kept telling himself that there was no way he could have known. He had no memories of her, how could he have known? But if he was being honest with himself, he knew she was different, or rather special, from the moment he had laid his eyes on her in the hospital. A tiny voice in him kept pushing his thoughts back to her. As if trying to help him realize how important she was. That she was his only thought, his world, regardless of what he could actually remember. Ending things with her had clearly felt wrong for a reason, he should have listened.

He sat up and pulled himself out of bed, stretching up high the second his feet hit the floor. He just needed to get through today, and the funeral tomorrow, then he could go to her. He could fix this whole mess.

He entered his closet and quickly put on his regular royal attire; a black suit. Switching out the white button up for a black one instead, being that they were all still in mourning. Then he made his way towards his office, knowing what would greet him once he got there. The list of preparations that still needed to be addressed for the funeral. For his press release. In this moment, he was thankful that he had gone to bed early the night before. For the first time in days, he had managed to finally catch up on some, very much needed sleep. Now he was ready to get this all over with and get his engagement back on track.

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

Chapter 20 - Coming *hopefully* soon ...

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artistic-writer · 5 years

Text

Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 23

Title: Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam - Brennan - Ruby

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW) - Ch5

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Here is the penultimate chapter of Werewolf! Thank you all for coming on this journey with me, especially those of you who have encouraged me so much along the way. There is another art to post, but I am unfortunately not in the right place to do so (it’s saved on another computer) so that will be posted tomorrow with a reblog. I have also been sick all week, and not been able to complete ch 24, so i am aplogising in advance if there is a delay with the ending, especially as I have left this one on a cliff hanger.

Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her birthday and for creating the @cssnsThank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped with the last few chapters. And to @flipperbrain who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan@sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones@bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan@onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife

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“What are they doing?” Graham asked quietly, his voice barely audible.

David was at the window, peeking through a gap in the curtains, but he had seen all he needed to see. The barrage of werewolves on his land was a real threat, fanning out in human form around a single truck that David knew held his brother. James was dramatic, he always had been, and he would be the last wolf to appear.

“Awaiting orders,” David mumbled, watching the array of wolves with a narrowed stare. His breath fogged the glass in front of his face as he spoke, clouding his view of the attackers.

They were organized and methodical, moving into position like they had been practising for years. David heaved a sigh at the thought. Knowing his brother, these wolves had probably been conditioned to the highest degree, beaten until they were unable to take any more and then made to take more. James was pure hatred and in his world, only the strongest survived.

David wasn’t sure how many wolves had lost their lives at the hands of James. The only one thing he knew for certain was that they had.

“Speaking of,” Graham interrupted his thoughts with a gentle hand on his Alpha’s shoulder. “We have wolves ready throughout the grounds, inside and outside the house. Will is awaiting my next instruction.”

“Will is here?” Emma asked, almost a little too excitedly.

“Who is Will?” Killian added gruffly, a darkness to his voice that had David staring directly at him. The Alpha cocked his head sideways and looked at his newest pack member.

Killian looked at Emma and the blue of his eyes had turned grey, taking on a coal like darkness that echoed the clench of his jaw. She matched his stare, green eyes boring into his, the silent conversation between them of assurances not going unnoticed by their Alpha. Emma was telling him it was okay, that she would explain everything, but Killian only had rage in his eyes.

“Something I should know?” David prompted them, interrupting their stare.

Graham looked to Emma, who gave him a sideways glance, not committing to the full act of looking at him. He had no idea that mentioning Will would cause this sort of reaction of her mate, and he looked to Killian nervously. The only other wolf he had ever seen with the same sort of look was James.

“Answer your Alpha,” Graham insisted, nudging Killian with his elbow.

“We don’t have time for this,” Emma said impatiently.

David silenced her with a wave of his hand, moving across the room towards Killian. He took him in, Killian’s stance closed and aggressive, shoulders hunched and stiff from tension. He was angry, but David couldn’t tell why. His scent had changed, a more masculine scent than before invading the space between them as David approached him and shook him from his fury with a slight nudge.

“Killian?” David spoke quietly and calmly, and Killian blinked a few times, clearing his red blurred vision. David looked at him, a mixture of fear and apology in Killian’s eyes after the inner wolf, so full of bloodlust, had subsided. A blush crept over his cheeks and Killian licked his lips nervously, averting his gaze as David reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Killian stuttered nervously. “I’m not...I don’t-”

“Will is Graham’s beta,” David assured him kindly. “He is no threat, I promise you. I know it’s hard, all these terms and new rules that you’ve never heard before.” Killian nodded a little. “We can help you tame it, Killian. I know the inner wolf so eagerly craves blood, and we have all struggled.”

Killian’s eyes went wide with shock, and despite all his warnings, he stared David directly in the eye. There was no challenge, and David knew that; he was not threatened a single bit by the half-wolf in front of him.

“Your whole life is about to change. You are going to feel things you never have before, and some will be confusing,” David told him with a warm smile. “Being a wolf takes more than being a man-”

“With all due respect, sir,” Killian interrupted sheepishly, “being half man makes me a better wolf.”

Killian had the drive and the tenacity that made only a few wolves great, but he also harboured a darkness David had seen within his brother. James was taught the ways, shown the path, and despite his father’s encouragement, had been overtaken with the desire to kill once he spilt blood. Killian needed a gentle hand to guide him into pack order, and Misthaven was where he would find it.

“Maybe,” David agreed with a nod. “In time, and with Emma’s love, you will be a better wolf than me.”

David could see the flash of fear in Killian’s eyes, behind the bravado, the love for his daughter shining above all else. David had seen that before too, in his own reflection, his love for Mary Margaret lighting his journey and taming his own darkness, shaping him into the wolf he was today. Every wolf had the ability to become encumbered by the blackness in their hearts, but not every wolf had the chance to shine a light on it.

Emma was Killian’s light, David could see that now, and he just needed the right pack to guide him the rest of the way.

“You are strong and fierce, Killian. More wolf than human, I’d say. Do you think, just for a little while, the wolf my daughter loves can help us protect our home?” David gave Killian a warm smile, patting him on the back like an old friend and Killian felt his entire body relax.

“Yes, sir.” Killian smirked. “I can certainly try.”

“Good,” David nodded before turning to Graham with a much sterner face. “Emma, go to Will. Protect the rear. Killian, Graham, you come with me,” David demanded, the sound of his wolves rousing throughout the old house. “This is my home as long as I am breathing. Graham, you see to Walsh. That snivelling mutt needs to know his place.”

“Above or below ground?” Graham snarled, his nostrils flaring.

“You decide,” David rasped darkly. “Killian, you think you can think clearly enough to fight with me?”

“Like my life depended on it,” Killian said faithfully.

“It might,” David sighed. “I’m sorry, but it just might.”

James stepped from the truck, the old leather seat squeaking under his weight as he slid from his place behind the wheel. There was a light dew hanging just above the ground all around Misthaven. It was coated with the scent of wolves, mostly male, but between the droplets of moisture, James could detect the scent of his niece. She was no longer in heat, he could smell that, but she was scared, her fear evident in the air.

“She’s here,” James growled on a long inhale, turning to meet the gaze of his beta at his side.

“I smell her too,” Walsh agreed with a nod, the inside of his mouth becoming wet with saliva. Emma’s scent was new, freshly laid across the ground and a nearby truck that reeked of the Misthaven beta, Graham Humbert. There was another scent Walsh could detect, one he would never forget as long as he was alive. He ground his jaw impatiently, fists balling at his sides. “The mongrel is here too,” he spat, lips curling as he focused on the house.

James whipped his head to the house once more, an eyebrow rising on his forehead. “The mongrel? Now that is interesting,” he muttered to himself.

“Maybe he is dead already,” Felix offered, the Neverland pack member appearing next to James. Even though he had no visible injuries from his alleyway fight with Killian, his ego was still bruised from the way Killian had grinned a blood stained smile in his face.

“If he isn’t, he soon will be,” Walsh ground out, shooting his comrade a glance whilst fingering the scar tissue on his neck.

“Enough!” James barked, looking between the two wolves on either side of him. “This isn't the time to be caught up in petty revenge,” he growled, pointing first to Felix and then to Walsh with a menacing finger. “Look where that got you last time.”

Walsh looked to the ground, his toes curling in his boots. He didn’t have to look at James to know that his Alpha was still disappointed in him, but he could redeem himself. It was either that or his life would be snuffed out before he had time to blink. James was ruthless. The years Walsh had spent at his side would mean nothing to James if he stopped him from taking Misthaven from David.

“Take half the men and flank right,” James told Felix, nodding towards the back of the house. “Stop anyone that gets in your way.”

Felix nodded eagerly, silently signalling a handful of werewolves to follow him as they slipped into the darkness beside the house and around the back. They were silent, and as big as they were, they tread silently across the driveway and scaled the fences with ease. When they were gone, Walsh let out a breath, the skin on his forearms standing to attention in the sleeves of his jacket as a ripple of excitement passed over his skin.

“This is going to be fun,” he sneered, all but rubbing his hands together.

“Attack!” James called out, ignoring his beta, his voice echoing through the nearby trees. A bird flew off from its perch, calling out it's warning as it took flight, wings hitting branches as it escaped the confines of the brush.

The wave of werewolves behind them rushed forward, barging shoulders with each other as they let out an almighty roar, their voices carried across the land like the rumble of a huge engine. James led the charge, Walsh at his side, feet sliding on the gravel beneath their feet as they ran up the driveway that led straight to the huge doors of the house.

“Will!” Emma called out, rushing through the hall and into the huge, farmhouse style kitchen at the back of the old house. She slid to a stop just in front of the huge island counter, the flash of black in Will’s eyes as he gave her a quick glance telling her he knew what she was about to say.

“They’re coming over the fences!” he said quickly, pointing left and then right. “Come on!” He motioned Emma to follow him, yanking the door open and rushing out onto the slippery grass behind the house.

Emma followed, quick to take instruction from Graham’s beta. Will Scarlett was another loyal pack member, another stray that David and Mary Margaret had taken in when his family had abandoned him. He was a few years younger than Emma but had struck up a firm relationship with Graham when they were teens. Now, adults, Will answered to Graham as his second-in-command.

Misthaven was like any other pack in terms of hierarchy, with an Alpha at the forefront, leading the pack in everyday scenarios as well as political decisions. His second-in-command would be a beta, in Misthaven’s case Graham Humbert, who in turn would have his own beta. Will Scarlett was Graham’s beta, and as such, a high ranking member of the Misthaven pack, so Emma fell into line immediately, following his orders.

Out in the open yard they were bombarded, five burly looking werewolves in human form rushing towards them whilst the one known as Felix followed up the rear. Emma spied him instantly, recognising him from the alleyway where Killian was taken, and caught his gaze with her stare. He sneered, lips curving back across his teeth in a grimace that made her feel sick to her stomach.

“You take the stragglers,” Emma whispered to Will. “The big guy is mine.”

Will didn’t have time to object before he was pushed out of the way by Emma, her eyes fixed on Felix with an aggressive stare. Her feet carried her across the grass, dodging a few of the Neverland wolves, the point of her elbow connecting with Felix’s jaw as she jumped through the air with a roar. He recoiled back, his forward momentum causing his jaw to slide sideways and out of place, his hand immediately clutching the offending joint as he fell to the ground.

Emma skidded to a stop, turning to face the brute with a wicked grin. Felix snapped his head towards her, a growl escaping his throat as he grunted in frustration. His mouth tasted coppery, the blood from his gums coating his tongue, and with a curl of his lips, Felix spat a mixture of blood and saliva to the ground.

“You don’t look so tough,” Felix grunted, shaking his head at her and pushing himself to his feet. He rushed her again, but Emma parried left, spinning on her heel and righting her stance immediately in case he was quicker than her. He wasn’t, his weight not on his side as it carried him passed her, and Emma sent a kick right into his back. Felix howled, arching his back into the pain as he fell to his knees.

“How do I look now?” Emma smirked.

Felix scrambled to his feet, charging her once more, his jaw clenched tight as he ignored the pain that still throbbed through it. Emma was ready, blocking blow after blow as they sparred, Felix’s clenched fist finally connecting with her face. He grinned triumphantly, snorting through his nose, and Emma dabbed the split in her lip.

“Oh,” Felix taunted, heaving a breath. “Did that hurt, princess?”

Emma grit her teeth, inspecting her fingertips for blood, the crimson fluid coating her skin. She growled under her breath and licked the cut, the tang of copper coating her taste buds.

“Not as much as this is going to!” Emma roared, rushing for the brute once more.

Felix let out a cry, and Emma dodged him again. She was smaller than him, more nimble and she landed another elbow to the back of his neck. He cried out, clutching the back of his head and narrowing his eyes at her as he winced in pain. Emma smiled, mirroring the one Killian had given Felix in the alleyway, and it made him boil with rage. Felix let out an anguished cry, tearing the jacket from his back and falling to all fours with a groan.

Emma watched in disbelief as Felix changed, his hands clutching at the ground before turning into paws and his spine growing longer as he stretched into wolf form. His clothes ripped from his body and Emma was met with the sight of his wolf, the huge, black tipped grey hairs of his pelt bristling along his back. Felix lifted his head after his transformation, a low growl in the back of his throat as his green eyes darkened and fixed on his prey.

“Oh, shit!” Emma gasped, a hot flush of panic rippling over her flesh. She turned tail and ran, heading back towards the house as Felix gave chase, snarling and snapping at her heels. She ran into the house through the kitchen door and turned, pushing the heavy wooden door as hard as she could, but the weight of the wolf pursuing her crashed into it and sent her flying across the kitchen.

Emma hit the wall, crashing into her mother’s display of patterned plates, and overturning the table in the process. There was a huge crashing sound, bits of the broken ceramics raining down on her as she winced from a pain that shot through her ribs. One was definitely broken, maybe two, and she clutched her side in agony, boots scuffing the dusty, wooden floorboards as she scrambled for cover behind the fallen farmhouse table. A shard of a plate had sliced her face, but Emma ignored the dripping wound when Felix’s growl roused her once more.

The wolf was in the house, the door swinging shut behind him keeping Will outside. Emma heard him sniff the air, tongue licking at his chops as he sought her out. She knew he could smell her, and it was only a matter of time before he realised she was so close and injured. Emma glanced around, finding only a huge shard of the broken crockery and clutched it in her hand.

The sound of Felix’s claws on the floor drew nearer, and Emma could even hear the drops of his drool hitting the floor as they spilt from his maw. He growled low, a warning most likely, and Emma clutched the broken bird covered porcelain harder, the jagged edge tearing into the fingers of her skin and palm. With a bark of excitement, Felix leapt onto the edge of the upturned table, looming over her and Emma cried out in surprise.

The wolf snapped its jaws, lips upturned in a menacing snarl, fangs dripping with saliva as it growled, green eyes aglow with hatred. Emma squeezed her eyes shut and lifted her arm, broken plate piece ready to strike but then, out of nowhere, the sound of cast iron hitting bone echoed through the kitchen and Felix slumped to the ground, limp and lifeless. The hollow vibration rang out again, and again, and Emma peeled her eyes open to see her mother straightening her stance and wiping specks of blood from her pale face.

“Mom?” Emma asked, her voice high pitched.

“Hush,” barked Snow, eyeing the wolf carcass now slumped over her kitchen table. She huffed, annoyed. “If your father thinks I am going to hide away in some panic room whilst my daughter gets mauled by a Neverland wolf, he has another thing coming.”

Snow extended her hand to her daughter, smiling warmly as Emma clutched her limb and was pulled upright. Emma groaned in pain as she stood, the feel of bone crunching against bone inside her torso and the sting of her cut cheek as it reopened making her hiss. Snow looked her over, concern etched on her face, but Emma gave her a reassuring nod.

“I’m fine, mom,” she insisted but Snow was unconvinced, just about to object when Will came crashing through the back door.

He was bloodied, a swollen lip and a cut under his eyes, but somehow Emma could still see the red tint of a blush when he realised Snow had caught him inside the house with dirty boots and clothes on. She gave him a frown, hands on hips as she motioned to his mud clad footwear with a glare, just like when he was a child.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Nolan,” Will stammered quickly, out of breath from his fight. “I’ll clean up, I promise.”

“Yes, you will,” Snow chastised him playfully. “But not before you go help my husband.” Snow pointed to the hall, giving Will the silent go ahead. He nodded, rushing off through the doorway as Emma collapsed against her mother once more.

Will bounded up the huge staircase three steps at a time, grabbing the rail and pulling his weight with each step. He breathed heavily, already half exhausted from his fight with the straggling wolves outside, but the sound of his Alpha in a fight made him ignore the burning in his lungs and continue on to his goal. At the top of the stairs he saw Graham, engaged in a fist fight with James and from the look of things, gaining the upper hand.

The Neverland Alpha was strong, and he fought back, countering each of Graham’s blows with one of his own. The men exchanged blows so furiously quick, Will had a hard time keeping track, but he heard the unmistakable sound of teeth breaking loose from James’ jaw as Graham landed a backhanded punch to the older wolf’s face. James stumbled backwards, giving Graham pause, and the Neverland Alpha looked back at him slowly, a dark, narrow stare as he spit blood out onto the floor between them.

“My brother chose a fine Beta in you, Humbert,” James said darkly, licking at a split in his lower lip. He rearranged his jaw again, spitting out a tooth which hit the floor and sounded like a dice rolling across the wooden boards. “Ever considered a darker career path?”

“Not in a million years,” Graham spat disgustedly, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Ah, that’s right,” James said snidely. “You can’t, what with your human and mongrel child.”

Graham ground his jaw, fists balling at his sides. He hunched his shoulders, staring down the Alpha who dared threaten his family. He didn’t know how James knew, and he didn’t want to know, but what he did want was the man in front of him dead. Anger fuelled his already tired body and Graham lunged forward, teeth bared and his lungs expelling a cry of rage.

“Graham, no!” Will screamed, the thickness of his accent rolling his tongue around the name.

Graham didn’t listen, following through his action and grabbing James by the shoulders. The men stumbled backwards, Graham’s weight atop James as they rolled to the floor. James threw a punch upward, colliding with Graham’s jaw, but the beta didn’t falter, stiffening his neck to absorb the blow. James lifted his knee, tossing Graham over his head in one motion that sent the beta sprawled out behind him towards the end of the hall.

“You’d better get me, boy!” James taunted, pushing himself to his feet and motioning Graham to him with a flick of his fingers. “Before I get to that pretty human of yours.”

Graham jumped to his feet, barely giving himself a chance to shake off his fall when he charged James again. The Neverland alpha grinned a bloody smile, digging his hand behind his back to grip at the handle of a knife sheathed on his belt. As Graham got closer, James took up stance, half squatting on the spot, bouncing on the balls of his feet ready to move. As Graham reached him, James dodged sideways, pulling his knife free and plunging it into Graham’s shoulder as he passed him.

Graham cried out, falling to the floor with a thud, and Will was at his side in an instant. By the time Graham rolled over, hand clawing at the top of his shoulder, James was gone, nothing but his scent lingering in the hallway.

“Where did he go?” Will asked quickly, assessing Graham’s shoulder. The blade was in deep, probably touching bone, and Graham winced with a growl when Will gave it a tug.

“God, Scarlett!” Graham hissed. “Stop pulling on it!” Graham batted his beta’s hand away, tutting in frustration.

“It’s got to come out!” Will insisted. Graham growled again, half a groan of consensus as he nodded. “On three,” Will told him firmly, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the hunting knife. Graham tensed, gritting his teeth and snorting short, panicked breaths. “One, two-”

“Son of a bitch!” Graham yelled when Will pulled the blade earlier than he anticipated.

“I’m sorry,” Will said quickly, tossing the blade aside and covering the wound with his hand. “Hold still, let me see.” Graham calmed his writhing, steading his breath as Will lifted his now bloodied palm and peered down at the slice in Graham’s shoulder. He wrinkled his nose a little but the wound looked clean and not as deep as he first thought. “I think you’re good,” Will confirmed. “It looks clean.”

“That mother fucker,” Graham rasped, his voice hoarse from his earlier shouting. “He’s gone after David.”

“Killian was with him,” Will assured, helping him into a more comfortable position. Graham hissed through the pain, his shoulder blade throbbing like he had been burned. “I’ll go and check-”

“No!” Graham insisted hastily, clutching Will’s arm desperately. “Neverland knows about my family,” he gasped between breaths. “Go to the cabin. Make sure Ruby and Davin are okay.”

“But-” Will began.

Graham cut him off. “This is not up for discussion, Scarlett!” he growled. He grabbed Will by the head, forcing the lower pack member to look directly in his eye, and unable to look away, Will paled under Graham’s command. “Go.”

Will nodded, rushing to his feet and fleeing the hall, his feet pounding the floorboards as he ran down the stairs and out the huge fortified front doors. Graham slumped back against the wall, the cold, wet patch of bloodied cloth sticking to his skin as it pressed against the surface behind him. He looked along the hall in the direction James could only have gone, and prayed Killian was able to finish what he had started.

David and Killian were holed up in one of the libraries with nowhere to go. They would fight their way out if needed, but David had intentionally drawn the Neverland wolves to that spot because he knew it would give them the advantage. He knew the house like the back of his hand, and any Neverland wolf able to get through his pack defenses would surely fall by his hand.

The sound of men hitting each other ricocheted through the old house as wolves battled each other. Dull, sickening punches and the cracking of bones was all that could be heard from the opposite side of the door. Killian’s heart pounded in his chest, the blood pulsing through his eardrums and almost making him deaf to the cries of wolves as they fell. He wasn’t sure if they were friend or foe, but he was caught between the lust for blood and the fear of the battle. Killian had never encountered hostility like the Neverland pack, and if he survived, he never wanted to again.

“You traitor!”

Killian looked at David when he heard the unmistakable sound of Walsh from the end of the hall. There was another room there, and David nodded when Killian reached for the handle, twisting it open silently. They both stared down the silent hallway, bodies littering the landing like dirty laundry. There was another shout, this time of pain, and Killian instantly recognised it as his father.

“Neverland is fighting amongst themselves,” David whispered, peering over Killian’s shoulder.

“It’s my father,” Killian told him, whispering back.

“He’s here? Why?” David looked confused. He knew that Brennan Jones was a member of Neverland, but what he didn’t know was why he would be fighting in their corner, turning on his own to help defend an Alpha he didn’t follow.

Killian strained to listen, but the conversation between Brennan and Walsh was muffled on the other side of the door. He could only smell Walsh and his father, the still warm bodies of the fallen wolves fading from his senses.

“He’s helping,” Killian whispered, unable to believe his own words.

The dull sound of a clenched fist hitting a body caught Killian’s attention and without thinking, he ran along the hall as fast as his legs would carry him. The door at the end led into one of the libraries, and just as his boot connected with the door and sent it flying open, Killian saw his father hunched over in pain. Brennan was clutching his stomach, all the air leaving his body as he stumbled back into a huge wall of books. With little energy to even stand, Brennan grabbed a book from the shelf behind his shoulder and launched it at his attacker, the heavy leather bound tome hitting Walsh directly in the jaw.

Walsh recoiled in pain, grabbing his face as the weight of the book completely turned his neck sideways and his head was jarred unnaturally. He snarled in anger, launching himself at Brennan once again, but Killian was there to block his assault and take the brunt of the damage. He caught his arm mid air, twisting it sideways with a sickening snapping sound, Walsh howling in agony as he desperately tried to pull away.

“Killian, get back!” Brennan rasped, his voice changed from how hard he had been gasping for breath. He clutched at his arm, a burn mark in the fabric there.

“No!” Killian roared, eyes fixed on Walsh, his feet planted firmly on the ground to protect his father.

“Listen to your father,” Walsh spat, hugging his broken arm to his chest. “Or should we end this once and for all, mongrel?”

With an evil grin, Walsh presented what he had been hiding behind his back, and the reason why Brennan had been overpowered so easily. The long black pole of the cattle prod in his hands sent a shiver down Killian’s spine, his neck flushing hot with anxiety at the sight of it. Walsh let out a chuckle, his sadistic laugh not even enough to rouse Killian from his panic. He was frozen, petrified to the spot and when Walsh turned it on, the blue spark jumping between the pronged ends, Killian flinched backward.

“Oooo!” Walsh sounded through a laugh. “Looks like someone has a little residual trauma lingering around.”

Killian took a breath, steadying his nerves, grinding his teeth at the remark. He knew Walsh was just torturing him, trying to force him into making a move. Walsh was injured, incapacitated by his broken arm in such a way that all he really had left was his threats. Killian licked his lips, eyes scanning over Walsh’s face, searching for any indication that the wolf in front of him might attack, only all Killian saw was panic behind Walsh’s bravado. He was a wolf alone in a battle, outnumbered and at a disadvantage, and he knew it.

“What’s wrong?” Killian asked frankly. “You look a little scared.”

“Ha!” Walsh sneered. “Of you two?” He motioned between them with a wave of the cattle prod. “An old wolf not fit to be alive and his mongrel son? Please.” Walsh stepped forward, brandishing the sparking pole and Killian couldn’t fight the way his body moved back again. Walsh let out a sadistic laugh, igniting the rod once more, only for it to fizzle out after a small blue spark as the batteries run flat.

“You’re not having much luck, are you boy?” Brennan coughed, clutching his side as a grin lit up his face. “Not so big without weapons, are you?”

Brennan’s jibe riled Walsh enough that he lunged forward, holding the pole above his head with the intention of striking Killian. Killian was too quick, reaching up and grabbing the cattle prod mid strike, his might too much for Walsh who had to let go when Killian twisted the device from his grip. Walsh jumped back, huddled near the wall, panting hard from the tussle.

“What are you going to do now, halfbreed?” Walsh spat, his lips curling over his teeth in disgust at the words he used.

Killian looked down at the rod in his hands and then back to Walsh, a wolfish grin on his face. He shook his head, pinching his eyes closed for a second, before tossing the defunkt pole aside where it hit the wooden floor with a clatter.

“I’m not like you,” Killian ground out. “I will not hurt someone else for fun.”

“Just like I suspected,” Walsh growled. “Weakness runs in the Jones blood. Tell me, Killian,” Walsh growled, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a small handgun. Killian’s eyes went wide, the black pistol pointed directly at him. “Does Liam know how to fight?” he asked, waving the pistol around, “ because, when I’m done with you, I am going to find him, kill him and wipe every last Jones halfbreed from existence!”

“Over my dead body!” Brennan rasped, forcing his change in the blink of an eye. The light grey wolf leapt through the air, black patches around his eyes like a bandit mask, jaws snapping together as he attempted to reach Walsh. There was almost no time to react, Walsh squeezing the trigger as soon as Brennan’s feet left the ground, the crack of the gun echoing through the house.

Brennan let out a yelp, his wolf body stopping mid air and falling to the ground like a stone. Killian felt his entire body go cold, the whole scene playing out in slow motion as his father’s body hit the floor and Walsh fled through a door at the back of the room. The narrow passage was like a secret tunnel into the next room and as he squeezed through the gap, he dropped his gun. It clattered to the ground but was soon forgotten over the whining wolf at Killian’s feet.

“Dad! No!” Killian cried out, rushing to his father’s side. He slid down to his knees, tearing the jacket from his back as Brennan changed back to human, his naked form quaking on the dusty floorboards. Killian covered his father with his jacket and attempted to make him more comfortable, bundling the man into his arms like a babe and ignoring the way blood stained his hands. “Come on, stay with me.”

“You called me Dad,” Brennan smiled, looking up at his son with a glassy stare. His eyes were vacant, void of the colour they had once held so vividly, and Killian heard a rasp from his father’s chest.

“And I will again, just hold on, can you do that for me?” Killian clutched his father’s body harder, pulling him closer to his body. Brennan groaned, the twist of his body causing him pain. “Somebody help!” Killian called into the room, quickly scanning for anyone who could help him but finding them all alone.

“Killian,” Brennan muttered, clutching his son’s arm and drawing his attention. Killian looked down, the paleness of his father’s face a stark contrast to his black hair.

“No, don’t try to talk. Somebody will come,” Killian reassured his father, but he didn’t believe the words himself.

“I want you to know-” Brennan’s words were cut off by a hacking cough, blood dribbling from his mouth and down the side of his face. Killian’s hand hovered over his father’s face, ready to dab at the trickle of blood down in his father’s beard. He was unsure what to do, how to save him, and his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of losing the man in his arms.

“I know,” Killian smiled weakly. “I love you too.”

“Tell Liam,” Brennan rasped, and when he inhaled, his chest sounded hollow. The bullet had gone through a lung, possibly something much worse, and he was drowning in his own blood. “Tell Liam, I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to tell him yourself, just hold on.” Killian reached under his jacket and pressed his hand to his father’s wound, the tiny, circular hole oozing crimson on every one of Brennan’s breaths.

“I wish-” he gasped on a ragged breath.

“What, Dad, what?” Killian asked him eagerly, desperate to hear his voice a little while longer.

“I wish I was half the wolf you’ve grown to be, my boy,” Brennan coughed, his words but a whisper. His hand found the side of Killian’s prickly face and traced the apple of his cheek with a serene smile. “You’re just like your mother,” he told Killian softly before expelling his last breath, his hand falling back down to Killian’s lap as his smile faded.

“No, father, no!” Killian cried without pause, his words quick and panicked. “Don’t leave me again! Not again,” he whispered through tears, his father’s lifeless body heavy in his arms.

Killian had convinced himself he would never love his father. He had grown up believing that the man had left his mother, breaking her heart, for himself and nothing else. Killian now knew he was wrong, and his father was willing to sacrifice even more for those he loved, including his own life. Killian pulled his father’s suddenly heavy body towards him even harder and cried. Hot, fat tears streamed down his face and dripped onto Brennan’s head tucked under his chin. Killian was sure his wails could be heard throughout the house, but still, no one came.

The sound of a frustrated growl coming from the next room pulled his attention away from his father, and fuelled with a new anger for Walsh, the wolf who had taken and tried to take everything from him. Killian let his father’s body slip from his grasp and pushed himself to his feet. He took a long, deep breath, wiping at the tears wetting his face, and ignoring the discarded gun as he pushed himself through the gap and into the next room.

“Fuck!” Walsh growled, kicking the door that was locked from the outside. It was trapping him in the room; there was no other way out except back through the other room where he really did not want to be. A noise from behind him made him freeze and spin around, forehead beaded with sweat and eyes wide with a newfound fear for the young wolf that had appeared.

Killian was different. The blue of his eyes was replaced with black, his previous hues as soulless as the devil. Walsh swallowed hard, clutching his arm tighter to his hunched frame as he panted for breath. For the first time in his life, he was the scared, cornered prey of a predator hell bent on revenge. Killian’s nostrils flared a little and his hands balled into tight fists at his sides, the tips of his ears pink with anger.

Killian surged forward across the last remaining foot between them, and grabbed the lapels of Walsh’s jacket. He hoisted Walsh into the air, the wolf shying away from his gaze and flinching with the expectation of a strike. Walsh’s one good arm covered his head, instinctively trying to protect himself, and he couldn’t stop the whimper that tumbled from his mouth.

“Woah, woah, woah, wait, I was just following orders!” Walsh snivelled, shaking in Killian’s firm grip.

“Orders to tear apart my family?!” Killian roared, his face inches from Walsh’s as he gave him a shake. “Orders to have my mate!” Walsh flinched even harder, pinching his eyes closed as Killian’s breath heated his face. Killian’s grip tightened on the fabric of Walsh’s jacket, twisting the material in his fists and pulling Walsh even closer to him. “Orders to kill my father?” he added darkly.

“No!” Walsh objected firmly. “No, no, no, no,” he shook his head from side to side, the sting of tears in his eyes. “He turned on me! I was just defending myself! I didn’t mean anything I said,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “You know that, right?”

Killian took a long breath, loosening his grip on Walsh’s jacket. The other wolf took a breath and sighed thankfully, his body relaxing a little as Killian set him back on the floor and let him lower his hand.

“Just his orders,” Walsh said slowly, nodding in understanding. “You don’t know what he’s like. It was follow the orders or die, Jones, what would you have done?”

Killian wasn’t sure what Walsh was trying to achieve by humanizing his so called orders. Emma had told him all about James, the twin to her father and a lion with a rather large thorn in his oversized, powerful paw. Killian expected no less than brutality from James, but after seeing the sadistic side of the Neverland beta, he thought Walsh would put up more of a fight.

“You’re right,” Killian told him calmly, his voice eerily level headed. Walsh looked at him confused, watching Killian’s hands release the edges of his jacket and slowly flatten out the creases. “What would I know?”

“Exactly!” Walsh grinned excitedly. “You’ve never been a part of a pack, followed an Alpha,” he added quickly.

“Of course,” Killian agreed, a tranquillity falling over him. “Pack loyalty is of the utmost importance.”

“See! I knew you would understand!” Walsh screeched excitedly, his one good arm reaching out to pat Killian on the shoulder.

“What I understand is your idea of loyalty is to follow pack law without question. Not because you’re afraid of the consequences if you don’t, but because deep down you like the reprehensible things your Alpha makes you do.” Killian rasped, looking at the spot on his shoulder where Walsh’s filthy touch had made his skin crawl. “You take pride in serving your own brand of darkness, but are too much of a coward to do so in your own name, so you disguise it as loyalty. You’re a weak wolf. Weak, pathetic, and I pity you.”

“So… you aren’t going to kill me?” Walsh whimpered hopefully, trying to gauge Killian’s expression.

Killian stepped back, watching his feet as he moved and then extended his hand out to Walsh. For a second, Walsh looked confused, straightening his back from his hunched position and eyeing Killian’s olive branch suspiciously. Killian nudged his head towards his hand, giving Walsh a nod, and with a small smile, Walsh reached out with his good arm and shook Killian’s hand. No sooner had his hand touched Killian’s, than the young wolf’s fingers wrapped around his palm and crushed it in a vice like grip, pulling him forward on unsteady feet until Killian was in his face again.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” Killian growled menacingly. “Because my idea of loyalty to pack law is to protect those I love, regardless of orders or the price it might cost me.” Walsh’s mouth opened in a silent scream of pain as he tried to pull his hand free, sure Killian was breaking every bone in his fingers from his grasp. “And if killing you is that price,” Killian added, the darkness back in his eyes. “I am more than willing to pay it.”

Before he had time to object any further, Walsh felt the splitting pain through his skull as Killian headbutted him, holding onto his hand ever tighter so he couldn’t shy away from the assault. Walsh cried out, his eyes springing with tears as the force of Killian’s forehead hitting his nose broke the skin wide open and triggered a stream of blood from both his nostrils. Walsh had no time to even cry out before Killian pulled his arm so hard he felt his shoulder pop, and met the momentum of his body with another headbutt.

“That was for my father,” Killian growled, Walsh’s dislocated arm limp in his grasp.

He took a step back, lining up his next shot, which was a firm, heavy booted kick to Walsh’s crotch. The sound Walsh made as Killian’s boot connected with his balls was high pitched and like a trapped animal, the squeak in the back of his throat barely audible. Walsh crumpled to the floor, sinking to his knees and unable to grab at his throbbing testicles because of his useless arms, shaking from the pain radiating up into his belly.

“That was for thinking you could touch Emma,” Killian spat, his jaw clenched with the mere thought of anyone defiling his mate.

Killian reached out and grabbed Walsh by the throat, his fingertips digging into the straining chords of his neck. The muscles in his forearms rippled with the strain, but Killian squeezed until he heard the deep, grunting gasp of a breath and Walsh’s eyes flew open and met his in a plea of forgiveness.

“And this,” Killian paused, increasing the pressure on Walsh’s trachea. The older wolf began to wriggle in his grip but Killian didn’t let up, the tiny red pin prick dots of petechial haemorrhaging appearing in the whites of Walsh’s eyeballs. “This is for my car,” Killian rasped gravely, closing his hand around Walsh’s throat until he felt the spongy tissue and muscles of his trachea give out under his crushing grip.

Walsh went blue before he even hit the floor, his body unable to hold its own weight any longer as he struggled for breath. He rolled onto his side, broken arm and hand awkwardly clawing at his neck where Killian had left dark purple bruises in his wake. Walsh gasped, the deep, croaking sound he made as he struggled for air signifying his end. His larynx and windpipe were crushed, damaged beyond repair causing muscle spasms to close off Walsh’s airway and slowly suffocate him.

Killian simply watched as the wolf at his feet writhed, legs kicking out wildly, and boot soles scraping the wooden floor. Wide eyed and full of fear, Walsh’s ability to swallow disappeared and he began to drool, saliva mixing with the blood that already coated his lips from his broken nose. He caught Killian’s gaze, eye flicking from side to side as his brain began to shut down, remnant muscle twitches all that was soon left when his chest ceased to rise and fall.

Killian held his breath for what felt like an age, staring at Walsh’s body as it continued to twitch even after death. He finally took a step backwards, stopping only when his back hit the wall of books behind him, and then his legs gave out and he fell to the floor. Killian had imagined he would feel different, that taking a life would sate the beast inside of him and he would finally be able to set aside the hunger that had plagued him since he had come of age. Only, it hadn’t, and now all he felt was a numbing coldness at the realisation maybe Walsh was right. Maybe they weren’t so different after all?

“Killian?”

At first he thought he was dreaming, the long buzz in his ears almost overpowering the sound of his name. He blinked, slowly and deliberately, unable to stop the image of Walsh’s dead body from invading his thoughts. There was no blood on his hands, but Killian felt like there was, and he lifted them closer to his face to inspect his digits.

“Killian? Can you hear me?” Emma’s voice was clearer now and he lifted his head to see her crouched in front of him. One hand was on his knee, fingers gripping the joint for balance, whilst the other was planted firmly on the scruff on his cheek.

When he blinked and rolled his eyes in her direction, she smiled and he felt a warmth wash over him. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, just a strangled sound that sounded like an apology.

“It’s okay,” Emma assured him softly, moving her weight so that she was in between Killian and Walsh. “Come back to me.” She blocked his view, cupping his head in her hands and tilting it back so he was looking at her and not the corpse behind her. She smiled again, the corners of her mouth ticking into a smooth line that gave Killian instant comfort. “What happened?” She pried tentatively, thumbs stroking his cheek bones and coaxing him back to her.

“I killed him.” Killian blinked again, raising his eyebrows in disbelief of his own words. He frowned, confused for a second, but when Emma gave his head a gentle shake and her eyes met his again, he knew he had no reason to be. Her eyes were filled with love and nothing else, and Killian knew that whatever he told her would not matter a single bit. “He killed my father, and I killed him.” A single tear rolled down Killian’s cheek and was lost under the pad of Emma’s thumb.

She quickly brushed it away, and he finally gave her a small smile. “Are you okay?” Emma asked him again.

He shook his head. “I thought it would feel different, to take a life,” Killian began, his hand finding the smooth skin of her inner wrist and tracing over the bulge of her veins lovingly. He wanted to protect her, by any means necessary, and when Walsh had threatened that notion, Killian had been unable to hold back the darkness within himself any longer. “I thought-”

“It’s okay,” Emma assured him gently. “You thought all of the hatred you had for him would disappear, but it didn’t.”

“Yes,” Killian shook his head, his breath hitching on a sob. “And I still feel like I’m not the one in control anymore.” Killing Walsh had opened a dark door for Killian, and he felt like the hollowness that enveloped him was sure to swallow him whole. “I can’t take it back,” he whimpered, his bottom lip trembling. “It’s free, Emma. The bloodlust inside of me is free and I’m scared I won’t be able to control it.”

Emma’s heart broke. Killian had been raised by a human, with humans. For all intents and purposes, he was a human who just happened to be able to shift into the form of a wolf. There were many things he needed to learn, and there would be some adjustments, but whether human or wolf, Emma knew that Killian knew exactly how to love. The love he had for her was the strongest, fated by the stars, and Emma had no doubts he would learn to control his impulsive inner wolf and not lose an ounce of love for her in the process.

It would make him a wolf to be feared and a man to be cherished.

Emma leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a quick, chaste kiss. She let her mouth linger on his until she felt the quiver in his lower lip stop completely, and then stroked the hair of his beard at the top of his cheeks with her thumbs, holding his face to hers even harder. She felt him relax, his whole body expelling all tension, and he hummed contently in the back of his throat.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asked softly, breaking the kiss and resting her forehead against his.

Killian let out a breathy laugh, sniffing and wrinkling his nose against hers. “Not really,” he whispered, parroting the words she had told him when she had first told him of her arranged marriage.

“Excellent,” Emma smirked, repeating his earlier retort. “Neither do I.”

“We are going to be okay,” Emma sighed happily, rolling her forehead against his as she nodded.

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “We will.” It didn’t matter what was going on inside of his head, Killian knew that with Emma by his side, he would be just fine.

“At least now we know that one of the names on the tombstones from our dream was my father,” Killian added idly, the sadness in his voice evident. He let Emma help him to his feet, brushing his hands down the front of his jeans, but as soon as he had finished his words she gasped in shock. “What?” Killian asked concerned. “What is it?”

“What if the names are not ours, but the names of our fathers?” Emma asked.

Killian looked at her expression, worry etched into every line of her face. “That would mean-”

“We have to find my father,” Emma said firmly, tugging his arm as she headed towards the now unlocked door through which she had previously entered. “We have to find him now.”

#Alii dimidium Lunam #werewolf au #cs au #cs fic #cs ff #cs smut #temporary dog au #ch 23 #killian jones #emma swan #david nolan #graham humbert #will makes an appearence #mary Margret blanchard #james nolan #walsh #felix #every one is getting what is coming to them #i think y'all are going to enjoy this bit

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fallxnprxnce · 5 years

Note

How affected would Nuada be if his sister Nuala had the iron malady. Also if that happened, how do you think that would affect Nuada's plans through out the film? You got this! Continue working hard online and offline and I'm sure things will work out! Have a frabjous day!

Okay first of all I just want to saythat you get 1,000 positive karma points for even mentioning my own fictionalillness that I came up with in your ask? Like wut? Thank you for payingattention and even caring about my little brain children? You’re awesome? =)

And again, sorry for this taking a ridiculousamount of time for me to finally answer, but I wanted to really give it somethought and not just write a tiny thing. Today is the first day I’ve had bothtime and motivation to write in like a week.

Also omg, I am trying to muddlethrough these last couple months of work but both my jobs are kicking my assright now. Mid-May, they both will end, and then I’m off until the end of June,so I just need to make it that far, heh.

Now let’s get down to business. XD

If you are reading this and you’re newto this blog or you just haven’t ever heard anything about the Iron Malady, it’s a fictional illness Icreated for one of my literary worlds. I made it more to deal with theissue of high or forest type elves being taken as prisoners of war by humans orsubterranean elves and placed in cells, or to deal with how they feel when theyare very far from home, away from their home forest, not in a forest, or areotherwise around a lot of human technology and civilization. Building on the common headcanon in a numberof fandoms that elves’ emotions are so potent as to have the ability to directlyaffect their longterm mental and physical health, the Iron Malady is an illnessthat arises from the intense feeling of hopelessness or dread that all thatthey have known is lost, that they will never see their home again, or that theworld is changing around them too fast for them to handle. A feeling of beingleft behind, becoming obsolete, or “homesick” for times and places they feelthey can never recapture. That’s a veryquick and general synopsis, but for those who wish to read more, I will directyou to this post where I describe itin more detail, discuss symptoms and stages of disease progression, and discussremedies to ease suffering and/or cure it.

So… how Nuada would react to Nualagetting the Iron Malady would depend upon whether their soul bond would conferthe illness onto him as well. I feellike if she was laid up with the Iron Malady, Nuada would be too, or at leasthe wouldn’t be far behind her. This is for two reasons: 1) they are physicallylinked, so all physical symptoms would be experienced by Nuada in real-time, 2)he would feel her emotions through the bonds, and the very definition of theIron Malady is that it’s brought about by intense feelings of sadness, grief,and hopelessness… which I think would massively affect him, and 3) just knowingshe had that illness would devastate him because I headcanon that that’s whatthe twins’ mother died of, and also just because he would know if Nuala hasthat illness that she must be suffering very badly emotionally. So my veryshort answer would be that he would become ill too, and without anyone to takecare of him, he would die, so both twins would die. If he returned to hispeople and got help, he could be in recovery for weeks if not months, so allother plans of his would be delayed by that amount of time.

Of course, having said all of that,that even assumes Nuala can get theIron Malady, which I believe she can’t. It begins as an emotional illness, afeeling of intense dread, grief,sadness, etc., and Nuala seems incapable of that sort of emotion. (Disclaimer: Iwill insert at this time for those of you who were just like whaaaaaat? at thatstatement that I am not a fan of Nuala and I tend to have very harsh andpessimistic views of her. If you like her, I do not mean any insult and you arefree to love her if you want. Just take what I say within the context that Ihave a rather low opinions of her as a person haha.) I am not certain exactly the reason why she has a flat affect most ofthe time with regard to the fate of her people, but it has to be one of thesethree:

1) She doesn’t care. It could be possible that Nuala really just doesn’t care whether elves fade or not.If I wanted to be really mean and wallow in my pessimistic views of her, Imight want to say this, but I actually believe this is the least probable causeof her apparent apathy.

2) She can’tcare. It could be, and I think this isentirely likely, that Nuala has just been alive long enough, has seen enoughsuffering, has felt enough pain, and has pondered this subject long enough thateverything has… well… kinda… broken her brain a bit, heh. Not to say she’scrazy or anything, she’s not. But just in the sense of… sometimes you feel somuch that you redline and end up not emoting at all? Does that make sense toyou all? Like if everyone is pushing and trying to get through a doorway but theyall get jammed, then nobody gets through. What if her mind is the door and heremotions are the people pushing to get through? If she could emote, it would bevolatile and explosive, just like Nuada, but she can’t anymore.

3) She’s too wise to care. This sounds nasty, but it really isn’t. Truewisdom is seeing the big picture. It’s stepping outside of yourself, yoursituation, away from material things, away from trivial everyday things, andseeing the grander scheme of everything. Often times when one reaches truewisdom or enlightenment or whatever you want to call it, it involves not onlyan understanding of the greater picture and a detachment from personal desires,but also patience and compassion for others. This results in an enlightenedperson viewing strife and war and suffering as if they are watching TV. Notthat it isn’t real, not in that sense… but as if they are outside lookingin. They don’t place themselves in the situation or empathize, but rather theypractice patient compassion. What’s the difference? Empathy is when I identifywith what you’re going through because I’ve been through it myself or Iunderstand what it must be making you feel, and that makes me either sad foryou or really want to help you. I become personally emotionally involved inyour suffering. Patient compassion is very calmly looking at someone who issuffering and saying, this is difficult for you but you will get through it,and I understand that until you do, you will be upset and not yourself. It’sattributing all suffering to want, desire, and a lack of getting what you wantas far as the material here and now. It’s looking at someone who is in a rageand very calmly saying, I understand that this angers you, and I recognize thatyou are not wise enough to know that this too shall pass. I understand that itwill take time for you to work through this, and that until then, you may beunfit to live with.

I think it is very likely that Nualahas this very serene, wise, enlightened way of looking at the world. It rendersher not really able to get overly excited about much, because to be excited,upset, angry, etc., you have to be invested emotionally. She is an observer,watching life but not overly participating in it except in a few ways she feelsfurthers or maintains the greater good. Nuada and Nuala truly are yin and yang,for she is temperance, patience, understanding, and long-term, and Nuada isvolatility, impulsiveness, intolerance, and short-term. But I feel that that’sbecause Nuada never removed himself from the emotional equation. He’s allowedhimself to feel centuries of injustice, death, loss, and degradation of hispeople, and that has done very damaging things to his mind. Nuala may seem likea whole and better person on the surface, but that is because she has declinedto become emotionally invested in her people’s struggle, which I find shameful.But… it would protect her from falling victim to the Iron Malady.

Alright, SO… Now that we’ve gottenthat out of the way, IF… Nuada did not immediately come down with the IronMalady just by association with Nuala and IF… Nuala was actually capable offalling into the emotional valley that gives rise to the illness… now what?

In the HellboyII universe, I say the Iron Malady arose in elves who feared that their wayof life was falling apart, that it would fall apart forever, and that theywould fade. That despairover their situation of having to live underground, or seeing the humansoverpopulate and all of that, gave rise to this wasting illness that, even whenproperly treated, some simply do not recover from. Nuala and Nuada’s mother wasa kind, loving, and gentle soul, but she was also a fragile one, and she wasnot able to recover. Nuala… I believe would recover with the proper treatment,but that’s anybody’s guess. But even if we’re going to say that Nuada wasn’tphysically affected by the illness, he would still be aware that she had it.Actually, you could argue that he might be able to stop if before it happens,if he really wanted to, because he would be able to sense her emotionally goingdown that path long before it manifests itself in illness. He’s used to beingshunned and shut out by his sister, but if he felt real sadness from her? Ifshe reached out to him for help? You can bet your ass he’d be there for her.

So… I do not ship Nuala and Nuadaromantically or sexually. Yes, I know it’s canon. Yes, I don’t care. XD Butjust because my Nuada isn’t in lovewith Nuala does not mean he doesn’t love her. He loves her like a sister,certainly, and like anyone bonded to someone by their soul for the whole of his life would be. Nuada and Nuala do not have a traditional sense of self because of thisbond. They may exist apart from each other, but never knowing anythingother than feeling each other’s joy, pain, illness, sadness, happiness, wounds,etc. as their own… makes for a bondthat really can’t have any clear labels. That’s part of the reason why Nuada isso angry with and resentful of Nuala, because shunning him is like shunning apart of herself and like denying him a part of himself. It’s as if Nuada was awart on her finger and she decided to, quite literally, cut him off. But…having said that… because of the nature of this bond and Nuada’s own very openand emotional nature, there is no way for him to cut her off completely. So if she came down with something like theIron Malady, all bets would be off at that point. Fights wouldn’t matter.Differences wouldn’t matter. Insults, slights, grudges, bones to pick, none ofthat would matter to him anymore. All that would matter is being there for herand seeing her get well again. He’d worry about the rest later.

His plans for the humans would absolutely takea back seat to being there for his sister.He would return to the “palace,” assuming this is happening before he killsBalor, and would stay there with his sister until she was well again, and basicallywould not accept no for an answer. It isn’t like he would forget about what hewanted to do as far as assembling the crown, gaining the Golden Army, or exterminatinghumans, but rather his sister’s life and well-being would supersede all of thatin his mind. I can’t say that he would be surprised necessarily if she was toget the Iron Malady, but it would only strengthen his anger for humans. He’s alreadypissed off that they killed his mother, the way he sees it, but now his sisteris ill? Hell no.

Also, on a very basic and selfishsense, he would realize that if he doesn’tmake sure Nuala is cared for in a suitable manner and she dies, he would diealong with her. So if he ever intends on going through with his plan, heneeds to make sure he’s alive to do it. I can see this creating an even widerrift between Nuada and Balor, simply because he resents his father for hismother’s death. He feels he did nothing to save her, or at the very least, didnot provide her with enough support in life to prevent the illness fromhappening. Nuada would make sure the same thing doesn’t happen with Nuala.

He would make sure that Nuala was notjust feeling better but had been feeling better for some time before herevisited his plan again. This isn’t like a… take two Advil and call me in themorning sort of illness, heh. It takes weeks or months for a person to recover,and even after they do, they are prone to relapse if they are not taught how tobetter manage their depression or are not left with enough of a support system.I suppose if Nuala really wanted to discourage Nuada from his plans, the bestway would be to tell him that she needed him to stay with her in order toprevent a relapse. But that would assume he’d believe such a thing, heh.

But those are like… ultimate “I getthe Army and then I dead the humans so hard” plans. What about other supportingplans along the way? There are a fewthat I think would be either put off or nixed entirely if Nuala was sick withthe Iron Malady…

He wouldn’t kill Balor. Perhaps that whole thing might have gonedifferently if Nuala hadn’t been there to give consent for Balor’s death decreein the first place, but if she had the Iron Malady, Nuada would right suspectthat killing their father wasn’t what would bring Nuala out of her sadness. Infact, that would only exacerbate it tenfold.

He wouldn’t use the forest god in the way hedid. If anything, he might have brought itto Nuala first and shown her look, one of these still exists and I’m incubatingit, to make her happy. Not… “and then I’m going to use it to kill the hoomins,”haha… but just… “look, there is hope yet.” Maybe the poor forest god would havehad a better ending (or beginning?) and a much deeper meaning if it had beenused in that way. Great. I just gave myself a sad.

He wouldn’t care as much as Abe trying to makemoves on Nuala. Nuada doesn’tlike Abe for a lot of reasons, and he doesn’t think he is worthy of his sister,but… just like with Balor, now is not the time to attack someone she clearlycares for. For the sake of her recovery, I could see Nuada allowing Abe tovisit her. Supervised visits, ofcourse. XD

Nuada’s biggest problem during this timethough, would be not falling victim to it himself. Seeing his sister with the same illness hismother died from would take Nuada to a very rough place in his mind, and Ireally think it would be difficult for him to not fall into a depressionhimself. He would most likely want to stay in her room, sleep by her beside,basically never leave her. He would start regretting things he said and did toher, would start wishing they had been on better terms, all of that. So therewould be a great deal of regret and guilt involved in addition to just thesadness of seeing someone he loves laid up like that. So I think he’d be luckyif he remained entirely healthy himself during this time.

But yeah, that’s my 2 cents… of 5dollars, since this was long as hell, haha… but I hope I answered everythingwell enough! Thank you for sending thisin!

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canadian-riddler · 6 years

Text

Catwoman’s Revenge Redux

By Indiana

Characters: Selina Kyle, Edward Nygma [lowkey Riddlecat]

Synopsis: I hate the Catwoman’s Revenge DLC so I rewrote it. In my version they have ~history~.

AO3

She’d expected better security from him.

It seemed he had been banking on this place being kept secret enough he didn’t really have to put resources into defending it. A handful of chatty thugs was not hard to get through, and the riddle, while annoying, was not impossible. And now she was about to make it evident how very wrong he had been.

As she exited the elevator she stepped directly onto a bridge overlooking what was, she had to admit, quite an impressive underground factory. He never had done anything halfway, and this was no exception. It was a little dingy, and he could have used some decorating tips, but for a secret facility beneath an existing structure it was not too shabby at all. She froze for a moment when she heard him speak. Wasn’t he supposed to be in prison?

“Computer? It is I, the Riddler!”

“Hello The Riddler, you sound very smart today.”

“Thank you, computer. But this is a matter most exigent.”

“Error. Do not understand ‘exigent’.”

Who had let that man near a phone? And why was he allowed to call his computer, of all things?

“It means urgent. Now –“

“Thank you.”

“Yes! You’re welcome. Now, the Gotham City Police Department currently has me immured. And – “

“Error. Do not understand ‘immured’.”

He sighed heavily in exasperation. “It means imprisoned! Confined! Incarcerated! Banged up!” She could almost hear him rubbing his forehead. “I don’t know which is more corrupt, the prison-industrial complex or your vocabulary files.”

“Thank you.”

“I – you’re welcome. Now. I believe this would be a most felicitous and appurtenant time to run the jailbreak protocol.”

“Error. Do not understand ‘run’.”

“Oh, for…” He trailed off into fatigued silence. “Run vocabulary diagnostics.”

“Error. Do not understand ‘run’.”

“That’s what I get for hoping voice recognition would work over the phone… very well. Stay on the line. I will execute it myself by using the keys on this phone to write lines of code.”

She had no doubt he actually could run a computer using even the old-model phones at the GCPD, but she was going to have to stop him right there, no matter how impressive and amusing that might be. She climbed over the railing on the bridge and dropped to the factory floor. “Hey, Eddie…”

“C… Catwoman?”

“The one and only.” She took a cursory look around. “Aren’t you in prison?”

“Ha! No prison can hold me. One moment.” His voice faded somewhat. “Yes, Officer Cash, I’m talking to my lawyer. Who else would I be calling?”

Who else indeed.

“Calm down, Eddie. No need to order a breakout. Here’s what’s going to happen.” She raised her voice to ensure he got all the details. “I’m going to steal all your money and destroy everything you’ve built here. Okay?”

“Selina, sweetheart,” he began, and she had to admit he could still turn on that charm when he wanted to. “Let’s not be hasty about this.”

“Eddie, baby,” she returned, “I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what to do.”

“Telling? Who’s telling? I am merely suggesting we renegotiate the deal. There’s no need to rush into this.”

“I never said we were making a deal.” She cast a careful eye around for anything that looked as though it might hold a trap. “I am here to take what’s mine, whether you want me to or not. And that’s no suggestion, sweetheart.”

“Listen.” He had dropped the cloying tone altogether now, which was enough to give her pause. “There’s something down there that is of extreme import to me. You would not understand if I attempted to explain it to you, so I am asking you to trust –“

“Trust?” she snapped. “You listen, Eddie. I did trust you. That’s why we’re here in the first place, remember? You lied to me. You tricked me into being a pawn in your sad little game. You owe me and I am here to make sure you pay up. You don’t get to negotiate. You took advantage of me.” She hardened her tone. “I thought you were better than that.”

Silence. Then: “Wait a minute. Did you say ‘Selina’, Nygma?”

“I did not!” Edward snapped. “I said ‘Sabrina’! She’s my lawyer. You can call her yourself when I’m finished. She’ll have a few choice words for you, this I guarantee.” He must have given Cash another moment to leave, because he didn’t speak for a good handful of seconds. Then he continued, in a lower voice, “All right. You have a point. But I’m serious. There’s… something down there that cannot be replaced if you destroy it.”

“I’m not all that inclined to believe you right now.”

“Selina.” He actually sounded… upset. He might just have been telling the truth. “Please.”

Well. She wasn’t heartless. She could give him something for his trouble.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’m still going to destroy this factory and clean out your bank account, but in return I will provide you some intel. You’ll be able to make your escape without needing this malfunctioning computer of yours, and I’ll still get what I want. Interested?

“There’s no way for me to get you to leave the factory standing.”

“No.”

He sighed again. “You do know it took me six months of building with my bare hands to put that together.”

“And you did a great job. Unfortunately, it’s time to say goodbye. Tell me what I need to know or I’m returning to the GCPD and leaving them a little tip telling them exactly where your remaining hideout is so they can destroy it themselves.”

“Oh… don’t do that.”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Fine! Fine. But there is a security system in place that I cannot disengage from here. You’re going to have to survive long enough that –“

“Survive?”

“There is a small army of Riddlerbots dedicated to protecting the server. I cannot call them off without access to a computer. I have nothing to gain by lying to you.”

“You did risk my life, remember?”

“Selina, my dear,” he said, surprisingly softly, “do you really believe I thought for a moment he would fail to come to your rescue?”

He always sounded so chivalrous when he called her that.

“I honestly can’t tell what you’re thinking anymore.”

“You’re not the only one.” He said something over his shoulder she couldn’t hear, then continued: “In any event, as soon as you attempt to open the door through which the computer can be found, the combat Riddlerbots will automatically deploy. I cannot deactivate them from here.”

“So if I manage to destroy your so-called small army, you will open the server room and allow me to conduct my business?”

A pause, and then he said, “I will.”

“I was expecting you to remind me about my offer.” She advanced towards the door, mentally preparing herself for yet another altercation with his cursed bots. “Since you didn’t, I will tell you just as soon as I’ve dealt with your little security detail. And any help you are able to provide will be duly noted.”

“Very well.”

As soon as she laid a hand on the door there came discord from behind her, and she turned to see a goodly number of the bots had already appeared. He hadn’t been kidding. She resigned herself to the inevitable and got started.

“That’s a mighty long phone call, Nygma.”

“I have a very nice lawyer who likes to ask how I’m doing. You should try it sometime. Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot: you can’t carry on an intelligent conversation. My apologies. I’ll leave you to your brutish threats.”

She was going to have to hurry this along. She wasn’t going to be able to get into the server room without his help, and he was likely to get his phone call revoked sooner rather than later. “Eddie!”

“What?”

“You need to stay on the line long enough to fulfill our deal! You might want to keep your commentary to yourself, hm?” She caught one of the machines around the arm with her whip and wrenched it to the floor.

“I have been putting in some work on my end, you know. It’s difficult to write programs on a handset while under such close scrutiny, but you’ll be pleased to know I’ve managed it. You might even want to congratulate me, or at least pretend to be grateful. In any event, you’re going to have to get off the floor.”

“And what would that do, exactly?” Her heel connected with the neck of a bot with a satisfying crunch.

“It would keep you from being electrocuted, for one thing. But if you’re into that, that’s fine too. If you aren’t, you have approximately eleven seconds before I roast you where you stand.”

She climbed back up onto the wall, directing her whip at any robots who dared follow her. “Oh come on, Eddie. You wouldn’t do that .”

The floor lit up with a sudden green intensity and all of the Riddlerbots upon it were instantly decimated in a spray of smoke and sparks. “No?”

“You’d miss me too much,” she told him, and he actually laughed.

“That I would, my dear, for whom else could I count on to upend my life when least I need it? You may abscond from your perch now. That should be all of them.”

“Should be?”

“I can’t exactly see.”

She jumped lightly down onto the floor, and when it did not spark to life again and no further robots were revealed she crossed the floor to the hidden room. The locking mechanism was denoted by a large question-mark shaped switch and a massive glowing green arrow at which she rolled her eyes. “Eddie.”

“Yes, darling.”

“Why did you put an arrow pointing at the access point to your own computer? Did you think you’d forget where it was?”

“You aren’t here to critique my décor. Press the button and I will provide the verbal confirmation.”

She put her hand to it and depressed it, but he remained silent. She frowned over her shoulder. “Eddie.”

“Apologies for the delay.” She couldn’t tell if Cash had returned or if he just needed a moment before handing over the keys to his palace, as it were. “Computer: Tesla.”

And with that the door opened, and she stepped beyond it to reveal a very large monitor mounted behind a desk that had been hastily cut out of a large piece of wood. On this desk were only a dismantled robot and an empty mug. She moved to the keyboard. “Do I need a password for this too?”

“No. It will have logged in automatically. You will require one each for the bank transfer and for the… self-destruct.” She heard him take a breath. “Listen carefully to my instructions.”

She did exactly as he told her, and she had to admit she would not have been able to get into his account without his guidance. It was well-encrypted, with a vendor she had never heard of. “It needs a password to complete the transaction,” she said, once she had set it up.

“I’m finding it difficult to believe your lawyer is keeping you on the line this long,” Selina heard Cash say. “She usually prefers to meet you in person. I wouldn’t be able to guess why.”

“Will you leave me alone!?” Edward snapped.

“I’m coming right back, Nygma,” Cash warned, “and if you are still on that phone it is not going to be pretty.”

“Fine! Just let me finish my phone call in peace!” He sighed directly into the phone and said, more calmly, “It’s Lovelace.”

It was going to take a minute or two for such a massive transaction to be approved, so she had time to fulfill her end of the deal. “You ready for that intel?”

“Go ahead.”

“The GCPD confiscated your mech suit from the Orphanage. You won’t believe what they did with it.”

“They gave it to the Bat for his trophy room?” he said with derision.

She laughed. “Even better. It’s in the GCPD’s trophy room.”

Silence.

It brought her back to a time when she had been able to feel the chill of it, and she was quickly sobered.

“If this is a joke, Selina, I am as far from amused as can be.” His tone was hard, and she remembered that stony look he used to give her when she teased some of his more unusual qualities. She shook her head despite it not being visible to him.

“I’m not joking. They put it in there as part of their exhibit. It’s just sitting there, out in the open. It’s yours to ride off into the sunset with.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“That is the most idiotic thing I have ever heard,” he said, but he sounded more tired than angry. “Thank you.”

“The transfer is done.” She placed her hands back on the keyboard. “And the self-destruct?”

“Must you really?” he asked quietly.

“We had a deal. You don’t let me do it, I send someone here to do it anyway.” Whatever it was he was trying so hard to preserve he could probably replace. He always had been possessive over his things.

“All right.” He coughed away from the receiver. He really was still smoking, by the sound of it. “Control R, and then run endif.exe.”

She did so. “And this password is?”

He didn’t answer immediately. She almost changed her mind. Almost.

“Turing,” he finally told her, so hushed she almost didn’t hear it. “You’ll have three minutes.”

“Thank you.” And she stepped out of the room and walked quickly towards the elevator.

“Guess what?” came Cash’s voice over the line. “I just called your lawyer.”

“You can have the phone if you want it so much,” Edward said snidely. “I’ve finished with it.”

“Finished what? You were there so long you were probably rigging it into a bomb. I’ve been authorised to use force to get you to cooperate. So I suggest you shut your mouth and come with me.”

“What?” Edward protested. “I didn’t even do anything, you Neanderthal! Can’t a man make a phone call in peace?”

“Watch your tone, Nygma.”

“You touch me with that and it is going straight back to my lawyer, do you understand? You have no legal stature to assault me when I-“ He cried out suddenly following the sound of an electric sizzling, and as the elevator reached the upper floor she had to wince in sympathy. He hadn’t really deserved that.

She missed him sometimes. It had been so long ago now, but she didn’t think she’d ever forget how it felt to press her nose into his neck as he slept, or how comforting his arm used to feel around her waist, or how he would smile at her when he came home from yet another unfulfilling day at the GCPD. And she would always remember, too, the unmitigated rages he would fly into without a moment’s notice over nothing at all, and the nights he would wake up and cry for hours without ever telling her why, and the times that look would come over his face and he would just disappear even though he was right there. The good times? She missed those. They had almost made the bad times worth it. But she had known, just known, that it was only going to get worse. As if to prove her regrettably right, six months after she left she found that he had vanished from the GCPD. A year and a half after that he was in Blackgate, soon to be transferred to Arkham Asylum. She had made the right choice. He had been too much for her, was probably too much for anyone. But the regret went hand in hand with the nostalgia, and the wondering whisper that asked, Would he be different if…?

She looked back at the toy store which hid the ruins of the factory below it, and considered how long it would take him to make his escape. A few days, more or less. Maybe she would go back after. Ask him just what it was he’d been so eager to protect, when he had the time to explain it. He’d been surprisingly rational about the whole thing: no excuses, no threats, no real protest, even. He had accepted his wrongdoing and met her demands. It was… odd. Like he’d had a change of heart, almost.

Now just what could have caused that?

She had thought she’d feel more triumphant after doing this, but no. It was not all that satisfying to destroy what little he’d had left. All of his structures had already been torn down, his base of operations liberally draped in yellow police tape. Even taking his money was an empty victory; he was much too paranoid to keep all of it in one place like that. She had merely relieved him of a drop in his bucket, most likely.

And she’d never given him an explanation for her disappearance all those years ago. Maybe she’d check up on him in a few and see where they stood. Scarecrow was gone, but there had been rumours and she had not heard from Bruce in two weeks, nor had anyone else she knew. There was something brewing in the city, something different. Being allied with the Riddler just might get her out of it unscathed. And maybe she’d get an old friend back. Maybe.

But it was best not to get too hopeful these days.

Author’s note

I haven’t listened to it recently because I forget stuff like *snap* and it allows me to revisit content like I almost never heard it before, but the audio files between Catwoman and Riddler in Arkham Knight have Selina doing what Eddie wants preeeeeeeetty much without protest. Selina’s not dumb, she’s been in Gotham a long time and she’s surely watched the Riddler slowly go more and more nuts over the years. She’s consorting with an insane supercriminal – who she remarks upon as being completely nutso in the last audio – who has been upping the stakes continually, and she just goes along with that for the monies? Mmmmmmmm not buying it. It puts her firmly on the side of ‘not being a good guy’, that’s for sure. In general they get along pretty well too.

Anyways so I haven’t written it yet but they used to be a Thing when Eddie worked at the GCPD circa Arkham Origins and he had not yet learned to hide/contain his mess of a self. They were both in their early twenties.

As for the Rids part, his dialogue in the DLC completely ruins all the exquisite character development of the actual game and the only part I like is the part where he’s polite to the computer even though it’s annoying him. There’s NO WAY the Riddler just randomly left his computer unlocked, or puts his bank account ON HIS DESKTOP, or has a one-click SELF DESTRUCT SEQUENCE. This is a cyber security specialist AND genius who hacks Batman for funsies, gimme a break. I can buy the voice recognition not working over the phone, but then randomly working again without a keyword to activate it? Nah. And there is indeed an electrified floor during the very boring ‘hit two hundred robots’ boss fight in the DLC but he never turns it on because…………………… he likes having his stuff stolen and blown up, IDK. And yes. The mech really is just sitting there at the GCPD, out in the open. Waiting for someone to steal it.

#Riddler #Catwoman #Edward Nygma #Selina Kyle #Riddlecat #fanfic from Indy #Arkham Knight

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lowdenfordays · 7 years

Text

Banana Split

(Sorry about the dumb name, I thought it was kinda funny.)

You were sat up in bed, cross-legged, on your laptop. The room glowed with the morning sun; the sounds of the birds singing, your furious typing and Jack’s gentle snoring swirled wholesomely around the room. He had returned home from a shoot a few days ago, so he was still catching up on sleep. You had woken early, the stress of work not letting you lie in, but Jack looked so peaceful that you couldn’t bear to wake him. After a while you were vaguely aware of the sheets shuffling behind you, when two hands slipped around your waist and connected around your tummy. Kisses freckled your shoulders and Jack nestled his head into your neck. “Goodmornin’ gorgeous” he mumbled groggily.

“’Morning,” you replied. A smile decorated your lips at his touch, but you didn’t falter in your work. You worked for an interior designs company, and had just been given your first big project. You had to organise an open house event, in which you designed the décor and got it into the press. Not only was it the most responsibility you’d ever been given, it was also a massive opportunity for you to show your worth before your yearly review in a month. Messing it up simply wasn’t an option. Given that you were liaising with people from all over the world, you were in demand at all hours of the day. You were arranging for a handmade rug to be sent from Morocco when Jack started pulling you back towards him.

“Come cuddle with me,” he all but whined.

“I can’t Jack, I’m working,” you replied without a huge amount of sympathy in your voice.

“At 9 o’clock on a Sunday mornin’? Surely it can wait,” he said, tugging on you again.

“No Jack, it can’t,” you snapped. The Moroccan woman you were working with was being so stubborn about the shipment, you weren’t sure the piece would arrive in time and the stress made you short-tempered. You felt his hands slowly retreat from your body and heard him roll over in the bed.

Jack had got up and gone into the kitchen by the time you had sorted the shipment. You closed your laptop with a sigh and went to follow your boyfriend for some breakfast. He was sat at the table with a bowl of cereal. You stopped in your tracks at the sight – you usually made breakfast together on a Sunday and you’d make a bit on an event of it.

“Cereal?” you questioned.

Without looking up he shrugged and said, “I dinnae know how long ye were going to be.”

You made yourself some toast.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you said as you sat down. He shrugged again and didn’t say a word. “Really? No suggestions from the king of day-trips.”

Your phone pinged with an email from a magazine editor looking to cover your event.

“Well, I had thought we could go into town, but if yer busy...” he said bitterly, nodding towards your phone.

You huffed, “Alright Mr passive-aggressive.” You opened the email and sighed, seeing it required your immediate attention. You started to reply when Jack very purposefully pushed out his chair and trudged to the bathroom.

“Thanks for putting your bowl in the dishwasher,” you called sarcastically to him.

The sound of the door shutting and locking was the response. You had considered joining him in the shower but he put an end to that idea. You sat at the table and rubbed your forehead. He was clearly mad at you, which of course made you feel completely dejected and somewhat guilty, but you couldn’t help being a little angry at him. He knew how important this project was to you – he had no right to begrudge you your hard work.

You were at on the bed, twiddling your thumbs, when he came out of the bathroom. He only had a towel wrapped low around his hips to cover himself, his wet hair flopped over his forehead, and droplets clung to his skin which glistened when they caught the light. You bit your lip as you watched him get dressed but he kept his back to you the whole time.

“Jack,” you ventured, “What did you want to do today?”

He murmured, “Nothing. I think I’ll just watch some Netflix.”

“Okay,” you said timidly. Definitely mad at you. You decided you’d give him some space and then try and make it up to him a bit later, once he had cooled off.

You did some laundry for an hour while Jack sat in the living room watching trashy TV. When you felt you’d given him long enough you took him a cup of tea and sat beside him on the sofa. You felt his body tense when your shoulders brushed.

You sighed. “Are you mad at me Jack?”

He shrugged, again, which almost made you storm off in exasperation – he really was a terrible communicator. You took a deep breath and continued, “Because I didn’t cuddle with you this morning?”

“It’s not just cuddling,” he shot at you, sounding like a spoiled child, “Ever since I got home ye’ve been working constantly! Ye always seem to be on tha’ infernal laptop, and if it’s no’ that then ye’re on yer phone, even when we go out. Ye cannae put it down.”

When you didn’t respond he continued, “There’s always someone who wants yer attention and ye give it them, but ignore me. I’m yer bloody boyfriend but haven’t go’ any time fer me!”

You forced yourself to keep your breath steady as you searched for the least confrontational way to tell him to grow up.

“You know exactly why I’m so busy at the moment, Jack. This project is a massive deal for me, and if it goes well it might even lead to a promotion. I have to focus on work right now, I can’t just drop everything and come running to you because you’re a bit lonely.’ You only partially succeeded in keeping your anger in check.

“I’m no’ saying you should drop everything, but I’m no’ home that often these days. I want te make the most of the time I have with ye, but you don’ seem to care!”

“How dare you? Of course I care!” You stood, your temper getting the better of you. “But I care about my work too. It’s all I have when you’re away. It’s not easy for me when you’re gone. You think you have it tough – it’s ten times worse for me I guarantee. You’re off, working with amazing people, doing amazing things, having a great time. I’m stuck here, living with the hole you left, waiting for you to come back. I have to throw myself into my work so I don’t go insane! I have to have a life without you or I’d crumble every time you left.”

You hadn’t intended to confess so much, but the tension had been building for a while. You had advanced quickly in your career because you worked so hard when Jack went away, purely because it took your mind off your loneliness. You had felt, for a long time, that Jack didn’t appreciate how difficult you found the distance. With the work-induced stress on top of that, you couldn’t keep a lid on your emotions anymore. When you felt tears welling in your eyes you took long, deep breaths to steady yourself. It didn’t work.

“I’ve never asked you to put me first, or made you choose between me and your career. I haven’t, and I never will. I only ask that you offer me the same courtesy.”

Jack appeared cloudy in your tear-filled eyes, but he felt soft and warm as he got up to wrap you in his embrace. He tucked your head under his chin and held you tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Two weeks later, when the date of your event was drawing closer, you started really getting frantic. It seemed like there was still a mountain of things to be done and simply not enough hours in the day. Jack had been better with you to start with, supporting you when he could and giving you space when he couldn’t. But as the big day drew closer he got quieter, grumpier and had started snapping at you. To be fair to him, you were difficult to live with; you were a ball of stress, constantly short-tempered and worrying about something or another. You barely slept, a combination of talking with people in different time zones in the middle of the night, and not being able to switch off. You found that you and Jack were increasingly bickering, finding fault in the tiniest things. You had had two fights, over what, you couldn’t even remember, but both left you in tears. Relationship woes were the last thing you needed, but you couldn’t find the strength to rise above it. He knew how much this meant to you, he saw how stressed you were, and he still couldn’t be a good enough boyfriend to just help you through. You were desperate for his affection, a kiss on the cheek, a rub on the back, but he was being so distant.

One Sunday afternoon, the event only two days away, you rushed inside from the rain. You’d had to visit a warehouse not too far away and had decided to walk, thinking the fresh air and exercise might do you good. It had been dry when you set out but sod’s law, it started pouring on the way back. You shook the rain from your coat and hung it up.

“Jack,” you called to a seemingly empty apartment, “I’m home.”

He came out of the bedroom dressed in a shirt and jeans, with his shoes and coat on. You frowned in confusion. It occurred to you that he might be planning on taking you on date, which seemed like a very lovely gesture which would go some way to making it up to you for his behaviour. The only thing was, you were wet and tired and didn’t really fancy going out. You needn’t have worried, because he walked right past you and grabbed his keys, saying, “I’m off to the pub with some mates. I’ll be a few hours.” And he left, no goodbye, no asking if you were okay or if you minded, he just left.

Miserable, you went to run a bath. A few days and this will all be done, things will go back to normal and the hard work will be worth it. Just a few more days.

You had just lit the candles when your phone rang.

In the next few hours it seemed like everything that could have gone wrong, did. The company that you booked to move everything in to the house had to suddenly cancel and nowhere else was available at such short notice. A chair that you had ordered from Italy, a beautiful, mustard velvet armchair which just so happened to be your favourite piece, had been delayed so looked like it wasn’t going to arrive in time. The biggest magazine you had, that had agreed to do a double page spread on the event, pulled out, which was a massive blow. You had been so excited when you secured them because it meant a load of publicity for your company. You were desperately making calls and sending emails, trying to sort out the mess and all you met was resistance. It being a weekend too, hardly anyone replied and if they did it took an age. You had called Jack too, wanting him to come home and help you, or at least comfort you, but all you got was his voicemail. You wound up sat on the floor surrounded by a pile of papers, sobbing. You had finally snapped. It was that ugly crying, when your lip quivers and your chest heaves and you just can’t get a hold of yourself no matter how hard you try.

When Jack came home you completely flipped. He had barely stepped through the door before you were on your feet and heading towards him.

“Where have you been?” you choked out, “I’ve been calling you!”

He looked at you, startled and a little afraid.

“I told ye, I went to the pub,” he said meekly.

“I needed you Jack. Everything’s gone wrong, I needed you and you weren’t there!”

Tears raced down your face, you were mascara stained and frenzied. He had never seen you so distraught, but you instantly saw guilt cloud his features. He tried to draw you into a hug but you pulled away, feeling sick. “No, don’t you dare! Don’t you try that with me. You can’t just hug me and tell me you’re sorry. I asked you weeks ago to support me-”

“Ye asked for space,” he said firmly, cutting you off.

“I didn’t want you to disappear! I hardly see you and when I do you’re arguing with me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done and you made it so much worse. I needed you to support me, Jack. Couldn’t you see how important this is to me? How could you just abandon me like that?” You were yelling by then, furious and desperate.

“Ye’ve been impossible, Y/N!” The venom with which he said your name hit you like a bullet. “Ye’re always stressed, ye nit-pick, I cannae do anythin’ right. Yer a mess. Ever since I got home ye’ve been obsessing over this bloody open house thing, ye’ve barely given me a second look. Why should I support ye when ye cannae even spare me the time o’ day?”

“WHY? Maybe because you love me? That’s how relationships work. Or maybe you don’t anymore.”

You hadn’t thought about the possibility before, but once the words left your lips you couldn’t shake it off. When he didn’t say anything a fresh wave of tears spilled onto your cheeks. “God,” you sighed, turning away from him. You couldn’t bear to look at him. “I can’t live like this. I can’t spend my life waiting for you to come home, imagining what it will be like when you get back, pretending you’re everything I want you to be…”

“What, I’m no’ good enough? Is that it?” he thundered.

“Frankly, no. Not recently anyway.”

There was a long pause, before you muttered, “It would have been better if you were still away.”

The silence lingered heavy in the air, and when Jack’s voice broke it, it was small but barbed.

“I’ll go then, shall I?”

It wasn’t really a question. You folded your arms and went to the window. It was dusky, the world looked grey and the sky was crying. Jack went into the bedroom and a few minutes later he came out again. You heard his footsteps tread heavily towards the front door. They hesitated for a moment, but he said nothing. The sound of the door slamming made your whole world shatter.

(So if you guys like this I might write a part 2? Lemme know if you’d want to read it.)

Update: here’s part 2

#jack lowden #jack lowden imagine #jack lowden x reader #jack lowden blurb #dunkirk #dunkirk imagine #dunkirk cast #imagine #blurb

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