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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

Where The Wild Roses Grow - An August Walker Story - 2

You can find part 1 on my masterlist

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Fern)

Summary: Don't screw the crew? This doesn't work for August Walker

Warnings: Smut, Sex, 18+, NSFW, unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), kinda soft August

Unbeta'ed! English is not my mother tongue, so please be lenient with me

Disclaimer: I don't own August Walker (but he owns me...)

Pics for the header taken from Pinterest.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @madbaddic7ed @artandotherdelights

~~~~

Fern

"Morning, Fern." August and Peter greet me in unison on this Thursday morning before they go straight to Pete's office where a potential client's already waiting for them.

I've always hated my name. It's so old fashioned and boring, it's a name for an old spinster, not for a woman my age. I would use my second name if it wasn't even worse. Prudence. I mean, come on...you have to admit that's dreadful. But if you'd known my parents you wouldn't be surprised.

When I was born my mother was already 45 years old, my father even 49. After 20 years of trying in vain they'd given up on hoping for a child but then my mum got pregnant with me. They were very religious, god-fearing people and when they finally held me in their arms it was a miracle, a blessing, God's gift to them and they always treated me accordingly, like a precious treasure they had to hide from the bad world outside. They loved me dearly but this love was so overpowering it almost stifled me. I never went to school, my mum home-schooled me, which was okay, I didn't miss anything but then again, you can't miss something you don't know I guess.

I was a shy child and so in some way I was glad that I didn't have to interact with other kids. I only had one good friend. Her name was Kayla and she and her parents lived next door. Her family couldn't have been more different from mine, her dad was a dentist, mine was a carpenter, her mum was a teacher, mine was a housewife, she had three older brothers, I was an only child, their house was bright and modern, always open for everyone, ours was a dark victorian building, very cosy and beautifully furnished but with a forbidding appearance on the outside, so besides Kayla we hardly ever had any visitors and my parents liked it that way.

When I went to college it was really hard for them and one hell of a fright for me. I went through a culture shock and it was quite the ride but luckily I had Kayla by my side. She could have gone to better colleges but she decided we'd go to Virginia together to visit the William & Mary. We had a great time there and I had a lot to catch up on and that's what I did. Parties, alcohol, sex...it was a whole new world for me but thanks to Kayla I didn't get lost, she made me find a balance between celebrating and studying and I will always be grateful for her patience with me. She's still my best friend, my only friend actually and we're in close contact although she's a district attorney in Texas now and I'm in London.

But I don't want to bore you with my past. I guess you want to know more about my life here and now. Well, it's not that interesting either. As I said I hardly do anything more than work, eat and sleep but I've started to take piano lessons and I really like it. It goes better than I had expected, my teacher is a very friendly elderly woman called Mary. Boooo….still boring, you say? We'll there's something about those lessons that's not so boring. I...oh wait, there comes August. Gotta get back to work.

"We did it, Fern." A big, smug grin appears on his handsome face. "They signed the contract. We're gonna celebrate this, when Pete's back."

"Congratulations. That's a big deal."

"It is. A real big fish. If they recommend us in their line of business other deals are gonna follow, this could be our final break-through."

"Does this mean I get a salary rise?" I ask with a smirk.

"Sure. The three of us worked very hard for this. You will have your fair share. "

"What?" I ask with a seductive smile. "Just like that? No negotiations?"

August pulls me close with a mischievous grin. "You want to negotiate, pretty?" He whispers in my ear, sliding his hands under my skirt.

"I'd love to. Where did Pete go and how long will he be gone?" I wrap my arms around his neck.

"I told him to get some champagne and oysters."

"I hate oysters." I pout.

"Forget the oysters, we have 20 minutes."

He hooks his thumbs into the sides of my silken panties and pulls them down slowly so I can step out of them. He tries to lift me up but I wriggle out of his hands.

"Let me reward you for your success and earn my salary rise properly." I give him a sexy smile and drop to my knees. August raises his eyebrows and nods in approval.

"Yeah, use that pretty mouth of yours."

I open his fly and get out his half-hard dick. After a few strokes he's fully erect and his size and girth never seize to amaze me. August Walker has the most beautiful cock I've ever seen. Just looking at it makes me wet and my pussy throb. I start to lick the tip slowly, teasing him and I love the way he moans and grabs me by my hair to make me take him in my mouth. I obey and wrap my lips around his shaft, popping my head up and down. I suck him off like I know he loves it, taking him as deep as possible. His breath goes short now and he's gasping and panting, his head leaning against the wall, his eyes are closed. I know he's not gonna cum, he never comes first, always makes sure to satisfy me before he reaches his high and so I'm not surprised when he suddenly pulls out and gets on his knees too.

He kisses me, which is unusual but he seems to love to taste himself on my tongue. He makes me lay down on my back and then he fucks me missionary style. He doesn't do it often, he prefers doggy or railing me pressed against a wall but when he does it's fantastic. He fucks me deep and slow, rolling his hips in a smooth rhythm and I look him right in his ocean blue eyes. He hits my g-spot with every thrust and he makes me cum within minutes. After I'm done with my orgasm he sits back on his heels. "Now finish what you've started." He growls and I continue sucking him off eagerly. Now I'm the one who tastes herself on him. He grabs my hair, holds my head in place and mouthfucks me hard but not too deep. He respects my boundaries and I don't like deep throat, I tried it, but it's not my thing and he knows that. "Fuck...Fern…" He cries out my name when he comes in my mouth and I swallow every drop of his spunk, I even lick his dick clean and I know he loves the sight of me kneeling in front of him, my tongue running over his tip and shaft. He lets out a long sigh before he gets up and stuffs his dick back into his pants. With a grin he grabs my panties and throws them at me. I catch them laughing.

"You're really the best boss a woman can wish for." I give him a smirk and he chuckles. "You can stop buttering me up. You've already earned your reward."

"I'm not doing this for the money." I wiggle my eyebrows and wink at him before I go to the bathroom to freshen up.

August

Wow, this was one of the best fucks in a while. I love it when she sucks my dick. Seeing her mouth stuffed with my thick cock is such an enormous turn-on for me. She takes me so well, her lips feel so tight around my shaft and her kitten-like tongue teasing me is just the best. Only thing better is fucking her ass but that doesn't happen too often. It requires time that we usually don't have and she has to be in the right mood for a hot round of butt sex. Sorry if I sound like a sex maniac but to be honest there's not much more in my life besides fucking and working and a few hours of sleep at night. It's just Walker & Brooks SecTec and Fern. That's what my life circles around and it's good the way it is. Honest work and casual sex, a good combination if you ask me.

When Peter is back we have a glass of champagne and some oysters. Fern enjoys some sushi Pete bought for her because he somehow knew she hates oysters. We're all in a great mood and we decide that we finish work for the day and just have a good time and a nice chat before we go home.

I take another oyster and make a little show of lapping up the meat from the shell, using more tongue than necessary. I give Fern a lewd smile and she bites her lip in a way that makes my dick twitch. Pete just smirks, raises his glass and speaks a toast. "Here's to the future. May it be successful and may it make us fucking millionaires." He giggles quite girlish, he's already drunk after just three glasses. I guess he usually doesn't drink anything but energy drinks and coffee.

"Cheers." Fern beams all over her face and I repeat her words. "Cheers."

I glance at her. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes sparkle, she looks so sexy right now I want her again. I know it's just been an hour that I filled her with my cum but I just can't stop thinking about eating her out. I place my hand on her thigh and start stroking it under the table. She doesn't react but I know she likes it. When I let my fingers wander higher she gets up with a jolt. "Excuse me. I'll be right back." She leaves the room and I manage to wait 60 seconds before I excuse myself too. Peter rolls his eyes, knowing exactly what I'm up to but he doesn't say a word. I go straight to the ladies room where Fern is washing her hands. She's surprised to see me and before she can say a word I crash my lips on hers, kissing her feverishly. I lift her up and put her down on the edge of the sink before I get down on my knees.

"August, what are you doing, Peter's waiting for us…"

"Forget Peter, I wanna lick your pussy."

And that's what I do, I pull her panties aside and run my tongue through her wet folds slowly before I start kissing, licking and sucking her clit.

Fern stifles an aroused moan and whispers my name softly.

"God, August...we shouldn't be doing this…"

"Want me to stop?" I look up at her with a devilish grin.

"God, no…"

And so I continue to eat her out, to enjoy her smell, the taste of her flowing juices, the sound of her moans and the little shriek when she comes for the second time today. She's shaking and my dick is throbbing in my pants.

I get up and she looks at me with a fake-annoyed frown. "Boss, you're gonna be the death of me. Two times a day? Really?"

"It's the oysters." I grin. "They're known for being an aphrodisiac."

"What about you." She touches my boner that's visible in my pants.

"Don't worry. When I get home I'm gonna jerk off in the shower thinking of you. Of your sexy tits, your hot ass and your tight pussy."

She hits me on my arm. "You're such an idiot. Let's get back and try to pretend nothing's happened." She laughs light-heartedly and I love the sound of it.

"You go first. I follow in two minutes. Have to wait for my boner to soften."

Five minutes later we're back with Peter in the middle of a conversation about how well everything's going at the moment. Peter mentions that he's planning to buy a Porsche soon and Fern makes him promise to take her on a ride.

"I'm gonna order it as soon as the money from the museum is on our account." He smiles in anticipation. We have updated their security system a week ago and are expecting the incoming payment every day.

"Oh, speaking of the museum. They send you those free tickets for the Caravaggio exhibition. You're not planning to go, are you?"

"No." Peter and me say in unison. We're both not very much into art. "Do you wanna go? You can have my ticket of course." I say to Fern with a generous look on my face.

"Yeah, thanks. Actually I need both tickets."

"Both? For you and who? A suitor?" Peter asks in a teasing tone, giving her a wink.

Fern blushes a little and I wonder what's going on, she never blushes.

"Well...yeah. Something like that. I'm going on a date on Saturday."

I can't believe my ears. Did she really say she has a date? Just like this? A fucking date? I try to pull myself together and not to show my surprise but I feel the tiny frown that appears between my raised eyebrows though the rest of my face remains blank.

"A date?" I try to sound as casual as possible.

"Yeah, you may have heard of it. Two people meet and go out together to get to know each other better." Fern chuckles.

"I know what a date is." I snap.

Fern rolls her eyes. "Fine."

Peter eventually asks the question that's running around on my mind but won't come out of my mouth. "And who's the lucky guy?"

"His name is Lucas."

"Where did you meet him?" I have my face and my voice under control again.

"Oh, he takes piano lessons too but with a different teacher. We met waiting for our lessons and so we got into conversation and last week he asked me out."

"Sounds good, take my ticket and have some fun with a decent lad." Pete says, giving me a quick glance. I know he doesn't think it's a good idea that I fuck Fern, he thinks I'm going to hurt her but I don't care. It's none of his business.

"Yeah. Enjoy your date." I nod but the mood's ruined and after another fifteen minutes we decide to call it a day and go home.

~~~~

tbc

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #august walker smut #august smut #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc #slow burn #sex to love #smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Secrets ~ 5

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series.

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Notes:

So, I managed to come back to this one. So sorry for taking so long! My mind wanders easily but I really do enjoy this series!! I'm hoping to get a few more chapters done in the next week or two if I can. As it is, my time is a bit up in the air with a looming lockdown.

That being said, I love you all, I thank you for your patience and feedback as always! Please don't shy away in the comments and I promise to keep doing what I can for all my ongoing series.

As for tumblr, I’m just kinda in and out. I’m not here here in a way as I’m trying just to stay sane.

You sat across from Barnes. Rigid, as you kept in mind not to slouch. Tense, as you brooded over your hopeless situation. Silent, as you inhaled the scent of the savoury meal but found yourself curtailed at every attempt to eat. His eyes followed every move and you were met with either a tskk or a remonstrance; ‘not that fork’, ‘small bites, smaller sips’, ‘smile’, ‘keep your lips closed’, ‘elbows off the table’...

You sighed as your last attempt to sate your growling stomach ended in another reproach. His words, his even voice almost taunting, stoked your anger and made it difficult for you to follow his direction. You sat back and peered up and down the long table, the chairs empty and table cloth crisp and white.

“How much longer do I have to do this?” You bemoaned. “I’m hungry. Let me eat.”

“Duchess, you will be expected to act as a lady for the rest of your life.” His mouth twitched at one corner as if he would grin. “Do not be unhappy with me, it was not I who neglected your education.”

Your nostrils flared and you looked at the longest knife among the row. He chuckled and you squinted over at him. You sighed.

“Do not be a child, Duchess. When you are queen, you will be the beacon for all other women at court. And if you cannot set a good example, they will make sure you know it.” He pushed his shoulders back.

“I don’t care about those women. I don’t know them.” You sniffed. “This isn’t my home.”

“It is.” He said plainly. “As close to as you’ll have given that yours would be entirely lost to you.”

You stared at him. You tilted your head and frowned. “You don’t realise how absurd this is? Do you really think I could ever want to be here?”

“If you don’t even give it a chance, then no.” He shrugged, “But you haven’t. You were in school, you liked it?”

You ran your tongue along your teeth and nodded.

“We have tutors; the finest money can find. If you are agreeable, your husband might be too.” He ran his thumb along the line of his palm. “You like museums, well we have one of the grandest in the world. You must know of it given your interests.”

You looked away. It wasn’t the same. What would you do with an education if you were trapped in a royal marriage? How could you enjoy a museum if you just went to look? Your former life felt so far away, yet that before you, felt even further. You weren’t a queen; you didn’t want to be a queen.

“So what? I’ll beg for scraps from my husband? 'Oh, please, I would love to visit the library today, my king. May I? May I really?'” You spat as you clutched your hand together dramatically.

“The King can be amenable but if you approach him with the same attitude as you have me, this marriage will be exactly what you expect it to be. Perhaps you might consider how you could make it at least tolerable?”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “You want me to change everything about myself; how I walk, how I sit, how I dress, how I eat. That is not tolerable.”

His lips parted and he tore his eyes away from you as he thought. “Well, to be frank, the king won’t care what you tolerate and he does not tolerate much. So whether you wish it or not, you will at least pretend to change.”

“Mmm, sure.” You huffed.

“I am offering you advice and it is good advice. The king… He will not be as patient as me. If you embarrass him in front of his court, in front of the world, you won’t ever forget it. He’ll make sure of it.”

“You know, the more you tell me about him, the better he sounds,” you said dryly, “A hell of a catch.”

Bucky exhaled slowly and a deep line formed in his cheek. “Go on. Take the salad fork-- no, wrong one.”

You bared your teeth as you blinked at the line of forks. “I’m not very hungry anymore.” You grumbled.

“Hungry or not, you need to learn how to hold a fork, Duchess,” he rebuked, “Sit up straight.”

👑

When you were finally allowed to retire from your first day at Regia, you were exhausted. Your chambers were welcoming as you left your personal tormentor, Barnes, without and trudged over to the bed. As you dropped onto the bouncy mattress, you looked around and your irritation piqued again.

Your suitcase was gone. Only your toiletries remained in their beige leather pouch and a stack of books. You frowned and stood reluctantly. Your neck and shoulders ached from the tension nestled there from a long day of Barnes’ tutelage and his nuisance.

You grabbed the first book, the title wrought in gold on the fading spine; ‘Queens of Astrania’. You fluttered through the pungent pages and took the next; ‘A Lady’s Place’. You set that one aside and scowled as you went down the stack; ‘Manners and Etiquette’, ‘The Provinces of Astrania; Lands and Rights’, ‘Astrania the Bold; A Kingdom Without End’, ‘Queen Loren: The Royal Mother’....

You left them in the pile and covered your face with your hands as you resisted the urge to scream. You turned away and went to the dresser. You slid open the drawer but it wasn’t your clothing inside. Instead of your plain cotton tee and jogging pants, you found satin and silk night clothes in every cut. You opened the drawer beside it and found bras and panties you’d never have wasted a penny on.

You slammed the drawer shut and went to the closet with the thick wooden doors etched with curlicues. Inside, blouses, skirts, and pants hung, pressed and pretty. The wardrobe of a lady. You could see Princess Kate in your head wearing any piece of it and yet, each garment looked sharper, more modern than the British fashion.

You shut the doors and crossed your arms. Three weeks. Well, one day down. That was all you had left. You thought of the women who had come before you; the medieval maidens, the romantic ladies in their puffed sleeves, the Victorian stiff neck marms. Had they wanted it? Or had they been trapped like you? Did they feel the same hopeless despair?

You went to the window and looked out at the green lawns painted in silver moonlight. Clouds framed the shining crescent, the sky streaked in greys and blacks that sent a shiver through you. The gates stood closed and ominous at the end of the winding drive and trees stood sentinel around the palace.

Once, you’d dreamed of visiting a royal home. Your love of history held you reverent in awe of the remarkable architecture, the years marked by renovations and the contrast of styles often found between one room and the next. Visions of spectres stirred your imagination and you thought of the dead haunting the corridors as they retraced the footsteps of their existence.

No, it all just felt horribly empty. These places were prisons. History didn’t need to be kept alive, only remembered as an omen for those living. Let it go but do not forget.

You drew away from the window and slumped in the upholstered chair not far from it. Barnes had your phone, you didn’t expect to get it back. It wouldn’t be of much use. As much as you missed your mom, you had nothing left to say to her and hearing her voice would only make you feel worse. She would only remind you of what she’d done; of the secrets she’d kept from you.

It was only you and the whispers of the dead. They carried on the breeze outside the window as if to warn you. ‘You are one of us…’

👑

The second day went much the same. Barnes woke you early, his gaze tinged with judgement as he chose your outfit for the day and bid you to pay attention. You ate, slowly and with the same endless critique, and he took you to the palace library and sat you down with a large volume. He paced as you read and occasionally listed off all that you had yet to learn. In all your years of school, you’d never had a teacher as overbearing and relentless as him.

When you were thoroughly restless from the tight font and stiff pages, he took you for a walk around the lawns and pointed out the statues of your predecessors. When you returned to the palace, he gave you another lesson in posture, a book on your head as he had you strut across the foyer over and over again. When you were dizzy from the repetition, it was time for another meal and you growled at your cutlery in frustration.

The days went on as such. You snapped at Barnes when he breathed down your neck but he never again bent you over and spanked you like a child. Instead, he merely grinned and thought of another ridiculous activity. But when he caught you with a sandwich secreted from the house staff and your hand streaked in mustard, he looked close to another lashing. He only took the last of your crust and scrubbed your fingers himself.

On the fifth morning. You woke with difficulty. You were exhausted and angry and about to give up. Barnes tore away your duvet and tossed a dress at you. He stood before the rack of dresses you’d gone through on your first day. You groaned and snatched up the petal pink swathe and rolled out of bed.

You dressed as he waited in the hall and you stumbled out in the pair of steep heels. You held in a yawn as he bent his arm and you merely stared at it in detest.

“Duchess,” he sighed, “Let’s not do this today. We have a packed schedule.”

“What is it? Am I to balance on one foot and recite the royal family tree?” You spat.

He snorted and shook his head. He took your arm and hooked it through his own. He turned and led you down the hall. “Well, no, but I fear you might look just as silly.”

You narrowed your eyes and your stomach knotted. You wondered at his meaning but went along with him. Your days at Regia still felt like a dream; you just couldn’t accept that any of it was real.

He led you down the stairs, with some trouble, as your ankle bent and you caught the railing in panic. He righted you and continued lithely down the staircase. Your heels clicked on the marble as he turned you and guided you to the tall doors that opened into a grand ballroom. Long tables lined the perimeter with straight back chairs and portraits of women long dead and their respective husbands hung from the walls. The high ceiling was pointed and arched in the style of the seventeenth century and velvet curtains were tied back with tassles at the other end of the chamber.

A woman in black, a stiff white collar poking out from beneath her blazer, and a prim twist to her lips, stood expectantly at the centre. She held a stick that reminded you of a 1900s schoolhouse teacher and her round framed glasses magnified her cold glare.

“Priscilla,” Barnes released you and approached the woman. He greeted her in all courtesy, a small nod and a kiss on her hand. “Timely, as always.”

“Lord Barnes,” she arched a brow and her hazel eyes peered past him at you. “Duchess?” It was barely a question as she bent her knee and gave a stoic bow.

“The very one,” Barnes affirmed.

“An honour,” she stepped past Barnes. “I was present when your mother and her father visited our kingdom all those years ago.”

Your lip curled and you looked between her and Barnes. “I never knew my grandfather. Apparently, I never knew my mother either.”

Her eyes rounded and her face contorted as if she had tasted lemon juice. She looked at Barnes who shook his head.

“You know the nobility well, Pris,” he said, “They have the temperance of toddlers.”

“Wouldn’t you know it, my lord,” she quipped. “A blessing to her it is not Austin in my place.”

“I made certain it wasn’t,” Barnes approached you and took your hand, “I do appreciate your expedience.”

“I would never disobey the king,” she held the stick horizontal in both hands, “Very well, first position.”

Barnes turned you and drew you to him. His other hand went to your back. He held you to him, a small space between your bodies and you wobbled on your high heels.

“What the--” His sharp look kept your form profanity.

“You must learn to dance,” he said, “And if you can barely stand straight, I trust we have much to do.”

Priscilla came around you and touched your shoulders with her stick. “Head up,” she chided, “Straight, straight, straight.” She tapped the tip along your spine. “You are lucky.” She girded, “To learn with such a partner. Barnes… I hope that even you might sharpen this one.” She tutted, “There is much work to be done.”

“Would you stop that?” You tore your hand from Barnes’ and wipped at the stick against your back, “I’m not a dog.”

“Mmm,” she hummed and smacked your ass with the stick as Barnes took your hand again, “Move your feet.”

She rescinded the stick and tapped the butt of it on the floor as she began to count. You trod on your partner’s toe as he led you. You looked down at your feet and he hissed, “Don’t look down.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You stomped his shoe again. “Or do you like broken toes?”

“Just back, forward, side, side, back…” He raised your hand. “Stand straight. Head high.”

“I hate you,” you snipped as you scrambled to keep the beat.

“A good thing you are not my fiancee, then,” he smirked.

“We can agree on that,” you sneered but found yourself pressed against him as you tripped. He caught you and chuckled as he stood you up straight.

“Graceful as ever,” he kidded, “My apologies, Priscilla, it is going to be a long day.”

“You’re apologizing to her?” You grimaced, “What about me?”

“You’ve tread on me nearly a dozen times, so far,” he turned you, “I would say you owe me a few ‘sorries’ yourself.”

“I’d say we’re even,” you snipped. “My freedom, your toes.”

His lips curved again as he watched you. You looked past him and focused on the numbers; one, two, three, and four… Your gaze caught on a queen with sad eyes painted in fading pigments. She had no husband beside her, only an urn on a plinth. A chill rippled through you as you were spun away from the sight. For all its radiance, there was something very grim about this palace of betrothed.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #fic #series #dark!fic #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #secrets #dark fic #mcu #royal au #au #marvel #captain america #king!steve

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shadowsof-thenight · 3 years

Text

Where our story begins: Chapter seven

Story summary: This is a victorian era AU Home is where our story begins, but how does one know where home is?  

Julia has a good life. A calm life. She really doesn’t have much to complain about. That is, until a handsome stranger steps into their home in the country and all that calmness seems to disappear instantly. Who is this man that seems to terrorise everyone with his haughty ways? 

Ship: Bucky Barnes X OFC-Julia

Warnings: Angst and fluff for this one.

Words: 3965

***

A/N: I hope you will all enjoy this one! The ending of this chapter is what will really set things in motion for this story.

Anyway, reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated!

And a special thanks to @gnomewithalaptop for the amazing help provided!

***

Masterlist

Story Masterlist

*** She was walking faster and faster, yet it was getting her nowhere. The door in front of her was as far away as it had been the entire time. Fear was gripping at her heart and she felt an immense urgency to reach that door before her. Why? Julia couldn’t really tell—but she recognised the hallway she was in as the one leading to her parents bedroom, and the door must have been theirs. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten here, nor what had brought her in the first place; she just knew that there was danger afoot. In particular, her father was in danger. Again no valid arguments, though it seemed abundantly clear to Julia nonetheless.

“Father!” she called out, but got no reply. She tried to run to the door, but found that the rug beneath her was simply piling up behind her and she was still not getting any closer.

Stopping for a moment she realised that, aside from her heavy breathing, there wasn’t a sound around. That was strange. It was the middle of the day; there should’ve been people out and about, but she appeared to be entirely alone.

Or was she?

“He’ll be okay, Julia. I promise. There is nothing you can do for him now.” James’ voice sounded from behind her, and she turned quickly. She was greeted by piles upon piles of rug—at least twice her height. He was behind them, she was certain—his voice was close by.

“James?!” she called out, stepping to the pile and realising it was solid, like stone.

“I’m here,” he replied, still close even if she could not see him.

Julia grabbed the hem of her wide skirt and bundled it up to free her feet as she began to climb towards the sound of James’s voice. She wasn’t getting any closer to the door, but perhaps James would be able to answer her questions.  The climb seemed endless, though her panting barely increased, as if she had suddenly found a power, an endurance she had never known existed. Reaching the top, she could finally see James standing at the bottom of the pile. A pile which somehow had gotten three times as high. Her feet slipped and she quickly dropped to her knees, the long drop to the bottom making her shiver.

“What is going on?” Julia asked nobody in particular, though James was the only one in the vicinity to answer. He didn’t say a word though. He simply offered her that sweet smile of his, while he stared at her with the same intensity as he had the night of the ball. She hoped it was love.    “James, I’m scared,” she said, her voice suddenly much smaller as fear tightened her throat.

“Don’t be. I’m here! I’ll always be here,” he promised and she really wanted to believe him. She wanted to put all her faith in him.

With that realisation, Julia stood up, carefully taking small steps down the enormous pile of solid rugs. She slipped a few times, desperately grabbing at any edge she could find, just to keep herself upright. She managed to keep from falling, though her hands were now full of dirt and blood. Apparently this wasn’t a pile of rugs anymore. Exhaustion pulled at her tired limbs, but she persevered—walking until she was ready to give up altogether. That was when James’s voice reached her ears again.   “Julia, I’m right here!”

“Help,” she called back to him, feeling weak and helpless.

She reached out to him, arms outspread, wanting him to hold her or catch her perhaps. But James wasn’t moving; he stood in the exact same position—unmoving. Julia was so exhausted though, too exhausted to go on. She kept reaching for James as her feet slipped again, and this time she could not stop herself from falling. She screamed as her world turned black.

“Miss! Are you all right?” Mary asked as Julia sat up in her bed with a start, cold sweat clinging to her skin.

Julia felt out of breath and slightly confused as she met the kind, worried face of her oldest friend. Placing a hand over her heart, she found it beating rapidly, and she took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. Flashes of her nightmare came to her, and she closed her eyes momentarily to banish them from her thoughts. She’d had nightmares before, strange ones, frightening ones, but this one really seemed to take the cake.

“My apologies, Mary. Have I given you a fright?” Julia asked, forcing herself to smile as her heartbeat returned to a normal pace. She opened her eyes slowly, seeing Mary still staring at her.

“I came to wake you, but then you screamed,” Mary explained, as she finally moved again and fetched some water to dab on Julia’s face—a gesture for which Julia was very grateful.

“I’m sorry, Mary. I must have been having a bad dream. I’m better now.”

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” Mary offered, and Julia readily accepted. It would give her some time to gather her thoughts before she faced anyone else.

Julia had an inclination of where her anxiety came from, though it didn’t appear to have much to do with the events of her dream. Either way, she needed a little more time to gather her thoughts before going downstairs. Her mother would want to talk about the ball; she’d want to hear what Julia’s favourite parts of the night were, and her favourite dance. She might even ask who her favourite dance partner was—mostly because she had found the answer to it already and needed the confirmation. Julia had barely spoken to her parents at the ball, and they would want to know everything she had experienced. And since they would most likely have seen her smiling bright for most of the night, these were normal questions for a parent to ask their child.

She was certain, however, that her parents had missed the moment that had given her such anxiety to induce a nightmare. She was intent on keeping them ignorant of that fact. It would do them no good to share the fear she had momentarily felt. She would discuss it with Natalia first. She would know what to do.  Julia took the cloth that Mary had used to dab her face and took it to her neck. The cold sweat finally seemed to be retreating. Stepping out of the bed, she walked towards the bathroom attached to her room. Long ago it had been a dressing room, but when bathrooms had become a regularity, Julia’s grandparents had made the choice to place it in the dressing room. All these years later, Julia was grateful for the choice they made. Though, as she watched Charlie lugging buckets of water, she could only hope that her parents would continue the remodelling and modernising and include indoor plumbing. They were modern people — this should be a modern house, should it not?   When the bath was fully ready, she thanked Mary and Charlie profusely before gently shooing them out of the room and stepping into the warm water. A deep sigh escaped her as she lowered herself in the water and the steam rose up around her. Her hair had been expertly braided before bed and was now rolled up on her head to keep it from getting wet. It gave Julia the freedom to lean her head back, and she made a conscious effort to relax her body.

Her feet were still a little sore from all the dancing, and she smiled at the memory of her dances with James. She’d been nervous around him all of the sudden, and she had struggled to understand why, until her conversation with Natalia. She and James had never spoken of their intentions. Their walks, their conversations—they had all happened in such an organic manner that neither of them had ever stopped to think of it. However, Julia could not deny that, slowly but surely, it had gone from regular interactions with a guest to something akin to courting.

Eventually she would have to ask James if this was what he wanted. A conversation was necessary, for her heart was in the game, and she needed to know where they stood. For now though, she was intent on dreamily remembering their night and telling herself it was in fact a romantic connection that had grown between them.

Unfortunately for Julia, the night hadn’t been all fun. Lord Rumlow had been acting rather peculiarly improper. He had been most forceful in their conversations, and Julia had not liked it one bit. After their dance, she had escaped and found James, who had quickly been able to sooth her worries—even without knowing the full extent of them. But Lord Rumlow had quickly shown her that James could not always be around.   It had happened near the end of the night, when Natalia and Julia had taken a stroll around the manor to admire the hard work that Natalia had put into the decorations. The men had gathered in the drawing room where they were having a smoke while the band was taking a short break—they were joined by virtually every other man at the ball. At least one had slipped their notice though.  When one of the maids had come for Natalia with some questions and Natalia had followed her to another room, Lord Rumlow had been there to corner Julia.   “Julia, I must confess that our conversation wasn’t as I had hoped it would be,” he had started, and Julia had nodded, unsure what she could say. It certainly hadn’t been anything she had expected to happen.

“I apologise. I only meant to warn you,” Lord Rumlow spoke softly, glancing around. Probably to make sure there would be no eavesdropping.

The gesture made Julia nervous.   “For Lord Barnes?” she asked to clarify, “Who has been nothing but a gentleman, even in the face of your imprudent questions the other night?”

“You should ask him about his business with your father,” Lord Rumlow said. He spoke harshly, his patience clearly wearing thin.

“I shan’t. Now please, I must find Natalia,” Julia said, her voice steady and strong, despite her nerves. She’d always been a tad wary of her neighbour. Always felt an almost imperceptible anger radiating from him, simmering just underneath the surface. There wasn’t enough horsepower in the world to make her spend time alone with this man, she thought as she scurried away in search of anyone to cling to for company.

***   “I was hoping we could go for a ride today,” James said softly once they were seated at the dining room table. It appeared that Julia hadn’t been the only one with a slow start of the day, and instead of having food sent to their rooms, her parents had decided to make an elaborate early lunch. Or a late breakfast.    “It would be preferable to a walk as my feet might need some more time to recover from all the dancing,” Julia answered with a smile.

“As do mine, and I only danced a fraction of what you did,” James grinned.

“That’s because you only danced with Carolina and me,” Julia teased and James smiled back.

“I could’ve easily done without Carolina’s superb dancing.” James stared into her eyes as he spoke, and Julia could feel a flutter in her belly. Was she wrong to think that perhaps he had noticed the change between them as well? If so, he certainly didn’t appear to be pulling away.

“And accept only my mediocre dancing?” Julia asked, teasing tone still in her voice.

“My dearest Julia, your dancing was perfection,” James insisted and Julia felt her cheeks heating in a blush.

“What are you whispering about, little sister?” Alexander asked, smiling brightly as Julia scowled at him.    She should’ve known that her brother would stick his nose in her business now that he was here. And since the men had agreed on no business today, he had plenty of time to satisfy his curiosity. She couldn’t really blame him—they’d never been apart as long as they had been since his marriage, and while Carolina was a faithful penpal, he was not. Alexander often forgot to send a letter and sometimes to even write a reply. Julia loved him dearly, but he was a tad scattered at times, much like their father in a way.

“We were discussing the possibility of a little outing today,” James answered for her.

“An outing?” Carolina asked excitedly. “Like a walk?” She had known of the daily walks James and Julia took and had already expressed that she wished to be a fly on the wall for those—this would offer her a front row seat. Of course the conversations would be a tad different with Carolina there.

“Our poor feet might need some rest before we can return to our daily walks, so perhaps on horseback instead,” James said with a smile. He had hoped to spend some time alone with Julia to talk, but it wasn’t in him to be rude in the face of all the kindness that Carolina showed. He also didn’t think Alexander would let up on his curiosity about their interactions. He’d made several inquiries with James already. He had wanted to know James’s intentions with his little sister and James could not fault him for that.

“Could I impose myself on this outing?” Carolina asked hopefully, and Julia nodded with a smile.

“The more the merrier,” Julia said, before glancing at James and wondering for a moment if he was as disappointed as she was about the prospect of having company. As wonderful as said company was, she had hoped to speak to James in private—or semi privacy at least. Mary had been their chaperone for most of their walks, and she would never share a word of what she overheard.

*** 

“This was such a good idea,” Carolina said as she took a deep breath of fresh air. They’d left the manor some fifteen minutes earlier and were walking at a leisurely pace along the road that would lead them to a nearby forest. The afternoon sun was warm enough to battle the chilly wind that had been blowing all week and it was absolutely lovely—Julia wasn’t fully experiencing it though.

James and Alexander were walking a little ways ahead of them, laughing and joking with one another. Julia stared at their backs and wondered what her brother had said to make James laugh so generously—James wasn’t this relaxed very often. During the many weeks that he had been with them, she often saw the stress clearly displayed on his frame. The serious face, sometimes a frown, the tense raised shoulders—none of it had escaped her notice. Often it was better when they were on their walks, though she had seen him getting lost in thought a few times. On those occasions, the frown lines in his face had increased. There was something heavy weighing on him, and she wished she could help him carry the load. As it was, she could only hope that her brother could be of some assistance. After all, she was just a girl, and men rarely shared their burdens with the women in their life, especially if they weren’t married to them.

“Yes, Carolina, it certainly was. I’m glad I thought of it,” Carolina said mockingly, and Julia laughed as she was pulled from her thoughts.

“My apologies,” Julia said, and she glanced at Carolina to find the other woman smiling brightly.

“Do you think you could love him?” Carolina asked, looking ahead to the men.

“I think I could,” Julia confessed, and saying it aloud made it feel more real. The fluttering she had felt at the dinner table returned with a vengeance, and she decided that she liked the feeling.   “Isn’t that the most exciting feeling there is?” Carolina asked, love clear on her face as she looked at Alexander’s back.   “And a little frightening, honestly,” Julia said softly, a slight blush on her cheeks.    “But it can turn into such beauty, Julia,” Carolina said, and Julia smiled, a little unsure.    She trusted Carolina with all her heart, but there was so much that she didn’t know about James. And there were things that linked him to her father that caused tension. She wasn’t entirely sure how it was all intertwined, but she knew that it was. Julia never did well with being uninformed, but she knew better than to straight out ask any of the people involved. Perhaps at some point, James would inform her himself—if he felt for her as she felt for him.

‘Have you noticed that he rides one-handed?” Carolina asked a little while later.

“I hadn’t,” Julia said, looking towards the men. They were now nearing the tree line ahead. Suddenly it appeared clear as day that James was only using his right arm. His left arm was loosely crossed over his torso. She wondered why this was. She had seen him favour his right side before, though not quite this much.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Carolina said. Julia knew that her sister-in-law wasn’t half as curious as she was, so it would be up to her to figure this out. Not today though—today she had other subjects to discuss with James if they ever had a moment alone.

***  Julia squinted at the sunlight reflected in the water before them. They’d spent an hour or so riding and had decided on a well deserved break along the lake in the center of the forest. Alexander had spread out a large blanket and surprised everyone with wine and cake—courtesy of Maudlin.

“When did you arrange this?” Carolina asked, smiling as she took a bite of her cake, before leaning back against her husband’s shoulder. Alexander himself was leaning against a large tree and he looked very pleased with himself.

“When you were all getting changed into your riding frocks, I made some quick inquiries, and as it happened, Maudlin had already baked a cake for tea today,” Alexander said with a smug smile on his face.

“Please tell me she held something back for mother and father,” Julia asked, as she too munched on her cake. She was careful though; she’d always been told that a lady eats neatly and calmly. If she needed to convince James of her qualities as a wife, she would not do so by eating like a pig.

“Naturally, Maudlin would never let me take all of it,” Alexander chuckled.

A short while later James stood up from the blanket and turned to Julia. “Would you care for a stroll by the waters edge?” he asked, and Julia was eager to accept his hand to help her upright.

Standing, Julia took a moment to brush off some imaginary dust from her dress and catch Carolina’s eye. Her sister-in-law nodded her head encouragingly, almost imperceptible, but it was still clear enough for Julia to see and understand. At this moment, she was happy to know the other woman so very well.

“I was hoping to catch you alone today,” James confessed as he threw a small pebble in the water. It skipped three times before it sank.

“Me too,” Julia said, craning her neck to follow his movements as she tried to discover how he made those pebbles skip.

Catching her attempts to follow his hands, James chuckled and handed her a pebble. “Hold the flat part as the underside,” he started, “then take it between your thumb and ring finger, like this.” He demonstrated every move as he said it, really breaking down the action for her.  For him it might’ve been simple, but Julia was glad that he didn’t make her feel silly for not knowing.

“Now, pull your arm back, just like that.” James gently directed her arm into position. “And throw.”

Julia did as instructed, and her pebble skipped once before sinking. She happily turned to James, jumping in place with excitement.

“I’ve never been able to do that,” she said, a bright smile on her face.

James couldn’t help but smile in return—she looked utterly adorable in her enthusiasm. And the fact that he had been the person to cause this response made him feel emboldened enough to say the words he’d been wanting to speak. Looking back at their companions, he saw them engrossed in conversation together. They wouldn’t eavesdrop or interrupt them for now.  He could tell Carolina and Alexander were happy together; their body language spoke to that fact; both relaxed and sitting close together. He hoped to achieve that with Julia one day.

Now that he had assured himself that they were not within hearing distance, he finally broached the subject that had been heavy on his mind throughout the week, with it coming to a strong climax last night. He’d been fond of her from the get-go, but last night told him that it was more than that. He was falling for the beautiful lady standing next to him.

“Julia, I was wondering if we could talk about a few things.” His mouth ran a little dry and he suddenly forgot how to hold his arms. He’s been searching the ground for more pebbles, pushing the stones aside with his feet, but he knew he should not put this off any longer—who knew how long Alexander would give him? They would soon have to return to the house.

“Anything, James,” Julia assured him, and she felt giddy with anticipation. Would he say what she thought he might? What she hoped he would?

“I’ve really been enjoying my time here,” James started a little shakily. “In particular our walks, and our conversations.”

“I’ve been enjoying those as well,” Julia said, eager to agree with all he had to say. She was excited, nervous, and scared at the same time, which made it harder to stand still—but she knew she had to at least appear calm outwardly.

“When I first arrived, it had been to discuss business with your father, but our walks were a nice change in scenery.” Her responses were calming his nerves a little, but he was still very happy to have thought this conversation through beforehand. He knew what he wanted to say, and he was now more convinced that she would want to hear it. “I appreciated the friendship you offered, your honesty and your curiosity. It was refreshing,”

“And at times slightly unprecedented,” Julia countered, and nearly bit her tongue in response. Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth closed, she wondered. But James laughed, clearly not put off by her words.

“Perhaps to society, but I liked it,” James said, looking her in the eyes, trying to assure her of the honesty in his words. “I don’t know exactly when it changed for me, but I know that I would like to have more than friendship with you.”

“You do?” Julia asked, a little timid, blushing slightly.

“Yes, and I was hoping to ask you if you feel the same,” James asked, wringing his hands nervously as he awaited her answer. He wasn’t even sure when he had grasped them together.

“I would love to move beyond the friendship we’ve built, James,” Julia finally said and James had to control himself—he wanted to pull her into his arms then and there.

“If I were to speak to your father, would that please you?” he asked, just to be absolutely sure.

“It would, most definitely.”

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x OFC #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes AU #Marvel Fanfiction #Where our story begins

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tired-college-student-writing · 4 years

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Beautiful Versions of Brokenness pt. 2

Summary: Marinette is different. There was no denying it, but none would have guessed that the true reason was soul deep

Continuation of Prompt: If you're into Black Butler, maybe something with that and Miraculous ladybug? Or Black Butler with Demon Bim? I just think you'd do a good job with the Black Butler characters.

Part 1

____________________________________________

Chat Noir reluctantly left so that Ladybug and Sebastian, shortly after, promised to meet up on the next patrol night so that they could properly discuss their unlikely reunion.

Instead of going home, Marinette leads them to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Parisians are used to seeing their heroine and a black figure at the top of the tower, no one would think twice if she arrived there. Sebastian follows as he always did.

“This isn’t my first life after Ciel then,” She hummed, once she arrived, deciding to deal with the first question on her mind.

“No,” Sebastian agreed, as her timer slowly beeped towards its end, “This is my 37th time meeting you since your contract was created. The 21st time you’ve awoken your Phantomhive memories.”

Her eyebrows rose, “it’s only been 130 years since Ciel died, how have I been reborn 37 times?”

The demon all but scoffed, “Really mistress? All these years with beings of heaven and hell toying with your life and you still believe we are playing by earthly rules?”

Marinette just glared, “You’re telling me Hell lacks linear time then? When I die, my soul just flies to any time period it pleases and becomes whichever child it can find?”

“Precisely,” Sebastian smirks, “There have only been a few rules your soul seems to follow, your eyes remain virtually unchanged, still the strikingly blue and purple hues they have been since our contract was sealed, your hair an inky black and your memories return within a year of the age you took your earldom, thirteen, or not at all. Other than that this is the eighteenth time you’ve taken a female form, fifth where you’ve been of mixed races, tenth of being Asian descent, you’ve been of African descent six times, middle eastern eight, Native American three times. You’ve been of peasantry or slavery six times, on three different continents. Though being enslaved has triggered your memories flawlessly every time and allowed for you to rise in the ranks of society with grace. Sixteen times you’ve been of noble birth in multiple different royal families across the globe. It’s been an adventure each time

“What about Lizzie?” She finally asked,” She never sold her soul, and yet Chat Noir is clearly my fiancé.”

Sebastian frowned, “To be quite honest, she’s never appeared before, or at the very least never awoken. Human souls are not supposed to be reincarnated so quickly, even by heaven’s terms we should not have run into Miss Elizabeth before the 30th century and I’ve never heard of the average reincarnation remembering their memories as vividly as Chat Noir did.”

“Who would know?”

The grimace was fleeting on the demon’s face but Marinette knew what he was getting at.

“The Grim Reapers,” She groaned, “Grell hanging around anywhere?”

“What makes you so certain that pest is still working off their debt?” Sebastian countered

Marinette glared, “Because I’ve seen a shockingly familiar red figure watching the Akuma battles before, but only the ones that might have high casualty counts if we had lost. Plus you’re always aggravated whenever I came back from those types of battles and she was the only one that I know that gets under your skin that badly. If she wasn’t so… open about her desires I would have loved to see her around more.”

The demon sighed, “Observant as always my lady. Grell Sutcliff, William T. Spears, and Ronald Knox have all been given special assignments to follow your reincarnated soul around as they are used to our unique brand of chaos. They are given time off when your soul is inactive, and this works counts as double time for their repayment… containing the destruction left in your wake.”

Marinette hummed, as her time finally wore out a Tikki appeared next to her.

“Sebastian,” Tikki greeted, cooly, drawing a wicked grin on the young girl’s face.

“Miss. Tikki,” He offered with his polite butler smile, the one Marinette knew meant he wasn’t happy, “A pleasure as always.”

“Oh, you’ve met then?” Marinette laughed with twisted glee “I haven’t seen you look so constipated since we had to do those Phoenix poses!”

She could practically hear the teeth grinding behind his forced smile, “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about Mistress, I think the reincarnation process has scrambled your mind.”

She hummed, cheeky grin not falling as she passed Tikki her emergency cookie, “Either way, we need to plan. Obviously, we can’t play the butler and Earl roles as we once did so we must figure out new roles that we can play, and create a fake hero identity for you if you plan on continuing to help out during Akuma battles.”

The smirk he gave showed off far too many teeth, but instead of unnerving her, it filled her with a sense of comfort, “Allow me to handle everything, mistress. What kind of demon would I be if I couldn’t manage a simple cover story and superhero outfit.”

________________________________________

Marinette awoke the next day to find it starting off horribly. Not only had she overslept without the ever-present tapping on her balcony door Sebastian normally did whenever she slept through her alarm, but as she was rushing she tore her blue contact, only to find it was the last one she had in stock, her new order not set to arrive until later in the week. She decided to give the demon a pass just this once since he most likely was still coming up with proper identification and dwellings for him to stay at now that she required him to be more than just a bird.

Looking in her closet she paused at her normal outfits, plink blossoms, pink jeans, and ballet flats. It just… felt wrong with her new memories of the Earl rattling around her head. She wasn’t unhappy being a woman in this life, still feeling as comfortable as ever in her own skin, but the overly modern and feminine dress just didn’t sit right with Ciel’s memories so fresh in her mind.

Instead, she pulled out a peter pan collared button-down shirt with the collar and large buttons navy against the cream of the rest of the shirt, a forest green western tie clasped in the front. She also pulled on a pair of straight-legged green pants and a navy blazer adding a tan pair of thick heeled ankle boots. For her final touch, she deep parted her hair, pinning it over her right eye and pulling it back into a bun securing a cream ribbon in a bow around the base of the bun once she was finished. Satisfied she grabbed her bag and took off at a run, bidding her parents goodbye as she attempted to make it class before the bell rang.

She arrived seconds late and found the room reorganized, seats had been moved and the open seat on her normal side of the room was right up next to Adrien. Well, she had to admit her previous actions around him had been overboard in retrospect, and while he was still cute but with Lizzie back in the picture it seemed almost like cheating on her old fianceé.

“Good morning, Adrian,” She greeted, choosing to stand in front of the desk instead of sitting down yet.

The blonde turned to her and perked up, “Marinette! I’m loving the new look, very Victorian esque”

“Thank you!” She laughed, “I felt like a change, You look great too!”

She could feel the eyebrows around the room go up as she smiled gently at the boy, but it was a good change of pace for him, his usual sneakers, jeans, and T-shirt had been swapped out for shiny dark brown dress shoes, a fitted pair of emerald green pants, with a crisp dark blue shirt tucked in. When he turned she could see a silver lace embroidery cutting a wavy path from his left shoulder to his right hip shimmer. He even wore a simple silver ear cuff to finish off the look.

“I picked it myself,” He preened under the positive attention, “Father usually is so strict about what I wear in public but he said I did well with this one!”

“Well, I have to agree,” She hummed, “You should experiment more often, I’d love to give you critiques now that we’re desk partners.”

“Girl what?” Alya finally interrupted, “That’s not your seat, you’re sitting in the back now.”

She could stop her smile from falling into a stony blank look as she turned around, “Excuse me? Who made that call?”

“Well,” Nino piped up with a slight weariness at her look, “She’s got hearing issues so we had to put her upfront, to make it work Ivan sat next to Mylène, Nate sat next to Alix, and she came up with the idea of moving me up here, so I could spend more time with my girlfriend.”

Marinette raised a brow making the majority of the room fidget, “Who exactly is she?”

Before any of them could answer Ms. Bustier opened the door and started her normal classroom announcements, “Good morning, students. I'm sure you've all heard by now, but Lila's home from her trip to Achu and she's back in school with us again.”

The Italian girl all, but bounced into the room to greet everyone, receiving a warm answer back as Marinette’s mouth thinned.

The fox paid her little mind as she pretended to gasp in surprise at the empty seat next to Adrian and started gushing, “Oh, a seat in the front row! You all remembered my hearing issue! You're such sweethearts, all of you!”

Marinette tilted her head, “I didn’t realize you had a hearing issue, Lila.”

Green eyes flashed towards her as she painted on a self-conscious smile, “Oh Yes, I suffer from tinnitus, a constant ringing in my left ear. I've had it ever since the sound of an airplane engine burst my eardrum on the runaway when I was saving Jagged Stone's lost kitten,”

“Really?” Marinette questioned with a raised brow, “Well I am sorry to hear that, but I would like to know why your disability is ranking above my own.”

Lila froze as Bustier paled eyes widening with realization. The room grew silent before Kim slapped the desk, “Oh my god, we forgot Marinette can’t see!”

She laughed, shaking her head, “I’m not blind Kim,”

He waved her off, “You know what I mean.”

Nino groaned, slinking down, “You aren’t even wearing your contacts today!”

“I ripped one this morning,” She sighed in explanation, “My replacements aren’t coming until Wednesday. So I really can’t sit in the back of the room even if I wanted to.”

Alya’s face scrunched, “I’m missing something,”

Marinette stared up at her unblinkingly, “I have a severe vision problem that causes me issues with depth perception and distance, especially if I’m not wearing my contacts. As noted by my doctor I need to be sitting within the first two rows of the classroom, and to have a seat partner is willing to give me notes that I may have missed if my vision acts up. It has been on file since I was six years old.”

“Ivan and I can move to the back,” Mylene offered quickly, “I’m sorry for forgetting Marinette!”

She offered a soft smile, “It really is no issue, as long as it gets sorted. While I must admit I believe the origin of Lila’s disability is fabricated, I am sympathetic to her for having said disability, but I refuse to not have my accommodations met just for someone else’s to be met.”

“Fabricated!” Lila gasped tears welling in her eyes, “How mean! You don’t like me, do you! You’re trying to make me look bad and have a hard time due to my disability!”

The ice that entered Marinette’s eye before she turned to the Italian girl sent a shiver down the class's spine, causing Chloe to shrink back and Adrian to sit up stick straight. Marinette felt an odd calm fall over her as the Phantomhive came out to play.

“You claim that you received hearing damage from being too close to an airplane because you ran onto an active runway to save Jagged Stone’s kitten from a jet preparing to take off,” Marinette repeated slowly, “ Not only does Jagged Stone despise cats, but he’s despised them since he was a child after one attacked and killed his parakeet, Juniper. This is an easy fact to look up as he’s mentioned it several times in multiple interviews. The pet he currently owns and has owned for almost twenty years now, is Fang, a freshwater crocodile that Jagged hatched himself. No one is stupid enough to forget the animal they heroically saved from a vehicle that’s accelerating an average of 32 meters per second squared, wasn’t even a mammal when I know that Fang weighs almost 200kg.”

Lila tried to break in but Marinette just straightened her back, and crossed her leg at the knee before continuing, “Furthermore, no airport in this day and age would allow for a teenage girl to make it to the runways where a plane was taking off without being tackled by security, nor do I believe that your mother, a diplomat, would be moronic enough to allow you to be placed in that much danger. If it did happen there would no doubt be multiple stories run by the media about it, internationally so since Jagged Stone is such a big name and you are the daughter of a diplomat, this would not be the first we would be hearing it.”

Marinette grimaced as she moved onto the next point, not even paying mind to the sputtering Lila was doing, “Based on these facts I’m going to assume the claims that he wrote a personal song for you that have been bouncing around are also false as if they’re not it does not paint a good picture that a famous man in his forties is writing and dedicating songs for you, a young teen fan. If these accusations were true, I'd be forced to believe that Jagged Stone is a hebephile or at the very least grooming you.”

Marinette simply crossed her arms as the room grew deathly silent, “Lastly, nothing suggests that sitting closer to the front of the room helps tinnitus, as the persistent ringing would not change and make little difference in a room this small. Most students with tinnitus require the student being given the option to move to a quieter location if the condition is triggered during class, groups the student is working with being given the option to move to a different area in case group work gets too loud during group activities and being placed near a low-level sound, such a small fan, computer, a heating element, or an open window, as complete silence can irritate the issue. I did enough research when helping Aurora fight for proper accommodations made in her own classroom on the subject to know that much. Or as by the way you are dressed and the fact you claim to have spent the last few months traveling the world, your family clearly has money so buying one of the many options of hearing aid out that that has been developed to assist and almost eliminate tinnitus would be overly easy. They sell them for around 270€, fairly cheap for accommodation products, and if your family truly took you on trips across the globe then you can’t convince me they don’t love you enough to shell out a few hundred euros to make your life easier. So tell me again why I’m making a big deal about making sure my own disability is taken care of?”

Lila sputtered, before bursting into tears, “I was too embarrassed to tell you the real reason! I didn’t want you guys to think less of me for taking a break with Prince Ali to go see a concert, I didn’t mean to get so close to the amps but… the hearing loss is so new I’m still adjusting”

Marinette glared at her, “Save the tears. Lies are pathetic tools to use and earn you no lasting loyalty, and to accuse someone of being ableist for questioning the origin of your disability, not even the disability itself is vile. Not a single person in this room would have been upset at you if you told the truth instead of tried to force the issue of fake heroics.”

She sniffled, “I’m sorry Marinette, I didn’t mean to make accusations about you or your character. I’m still on edge from the whole situation…”

Marinette let her glare drop and gave a cool, “It’s forgiven this time, now can we please figure out the seating situation?”

“Well,” the teacher stepped in, “Since Adrian agreed to be Lila’s tutor to help her catch up-”

“Actually, Miss Bustier,” Adrian raised his hand sheepishly, “I was going to bring it up with you later in private, but I really don’t think I’d be a good option to tutor Lila given how full and sporadic my schedule is already, I really would hate for her to fall enough further behind.”

“Oh crap,” Alix swore, “We didn’t even think of that when Lila suggested you!”

Adrian just gave a slight shrug, eyes not looking up from his desk, “It’s okay, I do want to help out the class as much as possible, I feel bad never being able to help out with anything after school.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Kim brushed off, “We get your dad is really on you about everything, we’ll just have to find stuff you can do in class instead!”

“Maybe,” Mylene squirmed a little in her seat as everyone turned to face her, “I mean just a suggestion… but maybe Adrian could be Marinette’s seat partner and help her take notes. You rarely miss actual class time for your activities and this way you’re helping out without committing to any extra time that your dad might not let you come for.”

Bustier clapped, a blinding smile on her face, completely missing how Lila’s face had twisted into an angry mask, “Excellent idea! Let’s all find new seats again, Marinette and Adrian stick together in the first two rows, Lila why don’t you sit on the left side of the classroom by the windows to see if that helps your tinnitus for now. I’ll call your mother in for a proper evaluation over the next few days and we’ll find a proper course to deal with your disability. If someone would like to volunteer to be Lila’s primary tutor please take the seat next to her. Everyone else please fill in!”

Slowly the room began shifting once again. Adrien and Marinette simply switched seats to allow her to better see the room as Alya, Nino, Chloe, Sabrina, Rose, Juleka, and Nathaniel stayed in their same seats. Ivan and Mylene did move to the back row together as Max broke away from Kim to sit in the second row next to where Lila ended up and Alix slid across the aisle to take his old spot.

Alya was still looking at Marinette as if she had three heads, “Girl, what on earth was that? You’re like sunshine personified, but you just tore Lila apart like she was tissue paper.”

Nino huffed a slight laugh, “Keep forgetting you’ve only been in the class for a year, babe. You’ve never seen a Marinette takedown before.”

Marinette smiled, “Do not lie and do not do anything that might have permanent consequences. If they can not follow those two simple objectives in my presence then I will gladly set them straight. Lila not only lied but accused me of being a bigot, I will not tolerate slander.”

“Well I think it was badass,” Adrian commented, causing her to smirk wickedly.

“Thank you. It’s always nice to know my skills are appreciated.”

“Oh do you need any notes from the last few days,” Adrian asked suddenly, sliding his notebook between them as the lesson started.

She gazed down idly, “Not that I can think of but thank-”

Marinette had to keep her eyes from bulging as her words faded off, because in the middle of the page, squished between two facts about the Roman empire stood a simple sentence in perfect English.

I didn’t think I would see you until tonight, Ciel.

“How on earth were we this blind,” Marinette mumbled in English, earning a laugh from his once betrothed.

“Excuse me?”

The pairs heads snap towards the door as a worryingly familiar voice sounds through the room.

There in the doorway was a tall teen with shaggy raven hair as he sheepishly held out a paper towards the teacher, “Are you, Miss. Bustier? There seemed to be a mix up with my transfer papers. Mr. Damocles told me just to head down and you should have all of my forms by tomorrow, but he didn’t want to prevent me from starting today as planned.”

“Oh I hadn’t realized I was getting a new student today,” She apologized, taking the paper and skimming it briefly before turning to the room, “Class it looks like we’re getting another new face today! I want you all to welcome him with open arms! This is-”

He was shorter, a little lankier and with a rounder face then they typically saw him, looking every bit the fourteen year old he was in no doubt playing, but there was no doubt who it was.

“Sebastian,” The demon introduced, mirth dancing in those burgundy depths as he grinned up at the reincarnated duo, “Sebastian Michaelis. I look forward to joining your class.”

___________________________________

Tag List: @lividdreams9

#miraculous ladybug #black butler #kuroshitsuji #marinette dupain cheng #sebastian michaelis #Adrian agreste #miraculous class #lila rossi is the worst #lila rossi #lila rossi takedown #reincarnated au

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eirian-houpe · 3 years

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The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 52

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 52 - Welcome Home

To his credit, Gold apologized as he walked with Belle the short distance to the library, but Belle shook her head.

“Even though I don’t think violence is the answer,” she said, “I can understand why you acted the way you did. He’s the man that split up your family, and it’s one thing to come between a man and the woman he loves, but a man and his child?”

Gold shook his head, as he held open the library door for her, not to argue, she soon learned, but in a sad kind of agreement. “Milah was just as responsible for our separation as he was, maybe even as I was, who knows, but Bae… yes, he took Bae from me, and for that I will never forgive him.”

They walked through the library, each falling to relative silence, lost in their own thoughts until they reached the connecting door, where Gold stopped and gestured.

“I’ll have bolts or a deadlock put on here, just to be sure,” he said.

Belle sighed, “Isn’t there anything you can do?” She gestured to the pocket in which she knew he’d put the papers Jones had given him. “To keep the apartment, I mean.”

Gold scoffed a little before he said, “I doubt it. I didn’t have much time to go through it line by line, but what I saw was quite open and shut. However,” he said with a sly expression entering his eyes as they mounted the stairs to the apartment. “I can probably delay, and keep him tied up in red tape for quite some time.”

“Oh?” Belle asked, an uncertain frown on her face.

“The apartment may well be his, by rights, but the furnishings - those belong to me, and most of them are antiques of varying ages. I have inventory for all of the pieces in my ledgers at the shop. I’m certain the dollar amount of everything in that apartment is… quite substantial. Quite possibly worth more than the apartment itself. He’d have to either pay me for the furnishings, or give me adequate time to have them safely removed, and 24 hours is certainly not enough time for that to happen. If he pushes the matter, I’ll simply take him to court to petition for more time. If he wants to take the apartment, furnishings and all, he’ll have to send in an independent appraiser - because I doubt he’d take my word for the value of the pieces, so…”

He waited while Belle put the key into the lock and opened the door, turning to invite him in. He stepped across the threshold then and finished, “If you really don’t want to leave—”

“I meant what I said,” she cut him off. “If this place belongs to him, then I don’t want to spend a single night here.”

She entered the bedroom as she spoke, and from beneath the bed pulled out two large suitcases, which she lifted onto the bed and opened up.

“Where will you go?” Gold asked from the doorway.

“I don’t know,” she answered, pausing in folding the clothing she had taken from the dresser and putting it into one of the suitcases. “Back to Granny’s at first, I suppose, until I can find a new place to live.”

“There’s always my house,” he told her softly.

“What?” she answered, startled. “No… No, I—”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding as if he had just made the most reasonable suggestion in the world that she had just rejected out of hand. “I got you into this mess in the first place, did I not?”

“But I… we…” she stammered.

“Belle,” he said patiently, “I live in a large, salmon Victorian on one of the quieter streets in Storybrooke. If you’re worried about appearances, I probably have enough rooms to comfortably house a small family, so you could certainly have a room and a bathroom all to yourself.” Then after a short pause, added, “If that’s what you want.”

She stared at him for a moment, swallowed, and then weighed everything in her mind. She wanted the chance to get to know him better, and it seemed that fate was offering her the perfect opportunity, but she didn’t want to push him, like before, and risk pushing him away.

“Listen.” He must have seen her hesitation, because he stepped just inside the bedroom door, half reaching for her, his hands open in an expression of honesty and almost supplication. “If you hadn’t come to me today, I was planning on calling round to see you anyway.”

“Why?” she asked, feeling like that was a perfectly reasonable question to put before him.

“Because…” he sighed, “I realized how wrong I’d been to push you away, when all you were trying to do was to get closer, to let me in, and show me your feelings.” He paused for a moment, looking at her seriously. “I want to make amends for that, Belle, because as much as I was hiding from the truth that day, I can’t hide from it forever.” He pressed his hands against his chest as he next spoke. “I feel… for you…” he extended his hands to her again, as before, then continued, “the same way that you feel for me, and… and I’d really like to show you how much that… how much you mean to me.”

A smile, small at first, but then growing larger by the moment spread across her face, and abandoning her already interrupted packing, she came to him and took his hands.

“A Victorian, you say?” she asked, looking up at him, and he nodded.

“Four bedrooms, two and a half baths, antique furnishings throughout and even a spinning wheel in the basement,” he said.

“Does it work?” she asked him.

“It does,” he confirmed.

“You spin?” she asked, surprised at that, although she knew from somewhere inside that she shouldn’t be.

“I do,” he said with a cheeky twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve even been know to work with the yarn I make from it, from time to time.”

“You knit?” Her tone of surprise grew stronger yet, and he nodded to her, his head turned slightly sideways.

“I can,” he told her, “though I mostly use the yarn for weaving.”

She smiled then, the picture he painted filling her with a great warmth that she couldn’t explain, and didn’t really want to. It painted a picture of domesticity that she longed to share with Lennox Gold, and on that thought, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and stood on tiptoes to kiss him.

“Do I take it that’s a yes?” He teased, “that the yarn-crafts were the deciding factor?”

“No, silly,” she said, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow “I mean, yes… I’ll happily accept your offer to move in with you, but it wasn’t the yarn-crafts that did it?”

“What then?” he asked, running his fingers through her hair.

“You’ll think I’m deranged?” she said warily, but he shook his head, and leaning his forehead against hers for just a moment, murmured that he never would. “Because,” she went on, “ever since that night at the bonfire, I feel as though I’ve known you before, for a long time, and… I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he breathed, and cupped her face between his hands, bringing his lips to brush against hers.

“Now isn’t that touching,” Jones’ sarcasm cut through the moment, and a second set of booted footsteps could be heard mounting the steps behind him.

“Mister Jones,” Gold greeted him coolly, adding another greeting as the second man entered the apartment, “Sheriff Humbert.”

“Mister Gold,” the sheriff returned the greeting, looking around as he came through to the bedroom doorway.

Gold kissed Belle softly on the cheek, and then gently propelled her back toward the bed, so that she could continue her packing, though she kept half an ear on the conversation.

“Mister Jones asked that I come as a witness to his tenant packing and leaving the apartment as per the eviction notice,” Humbert said, in a professional tone.

“Well, that is interesting, Sheriff,” Gold said, “because actually Miss Marchland is my tenant here, and although Mister Jones is clearly within his rights, as the new owner of the apartment, to ask her to vacate, I’m afraid I won’t be relinquishing the keys just yet.” The sheriff frowned, confused, and Jones spluttered incomprehensibly before Gold went on to say, “You see, the apartment may belong to Mister Jones, but I’m afraid the furnishings, the antique furnishings belong to me and Mister Jones and I have yet to discuss terms, either of their sale to him as the new owner, or of my right to the time to have them removed, as is appropriate for furnishings of an age such as they are.”

He smiled at Jones, a smile that clearly did not even touch the top of his cheekbones let alone his eyes, and Belle bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing at the tomato that was suddenly atop Jones’ shoulders.

“Now just a minute, mate!” Jones began, but the sheriff shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Mister Jones, but Mister Gold is quite within his rights to have adequate time to remove his property.”

“Unless of course you’d like to make an offer,” Gold added. “I can provide you with the names of several expert appraisers, or you could find one of your own, whichever you’d like.”

Jones pointed a finger in Golds direction, and Belle saw humiliation and fury in his expression as he said. “This isn’t over, Cuckold!”

“Quite right, dearie,” Gold purred, “at least… not until I say so.”

Jones stormed out, and the sheriff rolled his eyes, just a little as he caught Belle’s gaze, and she gave him an almost apologetic smile before he hurried off after the departing man, leaving her once more along with Gold.

“You maybe baited him just a little too much?” Belle suggested, coming over to lay a soft hand on Gold’s arm. It was rigid with tension, and she wished she could do something to make him feel better, to help distract him from the sudden appearance of the unwelcome shadow from his past.

In the end it was Gold that managed to distract her spiraling thoughts.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, almost startling her from them, and when she looked at him quizzically he gestured toward the two cases that were on the bed, awaiting their cargo.

“Oh, um… there are books,” she told him, and handed him a large, empty tote bag. “My own personal books. They’re in the lounge, on that small bookshelf by the door.” He raised an eyebrow then, and chuckling she added, “Don’t worry, there aren’t that many.”

He offered her a smile and then went to do as she asked and pack up the books. She continued her own packing, her mind still tumbling thoughts around like stones in a polishing machine. One thought in particular seemed to keep rising to the surface. Jones had spoken of the mayor as if she were somehow complicit in the whole situation.

Belle had known for some time that Regina Mills had it in for her, and knew she would be reveling in the thought that Jones arrival would make her homeless, so that the mayor could make good on her threat to fire Belle. After all, hadn’t she said that the Town of Storybrooke could not appoint a ‘vagrant’ to her position in the library.

She glanced through the doorway at Gold, who was still carefully packing the books into the bag she had given to him. Her breath caught a little in her chest at the sight of him and at the thought that he had quite generously offered her a home - her own room in his house, if she wanted it, but… she didn’t want it. She didn’t care how fast it seemed. She was happy to make a home with Gold, and happier still at the thought of being in his bed.

With both of them packing up Belle personal effects into the few bags and boxes she could find - a few of which Gold volunteered to go down to the library to fetch - it didn’t take long before she was ready to leave. Even as excited as she was to be entering into the new adventure, something ‘real’ as Ruby had told her to find, she still felt a pang of sadness as she looked around the apartment one last time.

Gold called an associate to come and transport the bags, so, for the time being, Belle had only an overnight bag containing essentials - nightwear, her toiletries, and something to wear in the morning… and of course, her favorite book.

Climbing from Gold’s car as he pulled onto the driveway of his, now their, home she took in the sight of the house. In the late afternoon, it looked more of a mauve color than salmon pink, as he’d describe it. Exquisitely kept, she could only imagine what it would be like on the inside.

She didn’t have long to wait and see if her imagination had even come close.

Taking her bag from her, Gold rested his hand in the small of her back and guided her gently up onto the porch, and then, after unlocking the front door, invited her into the house with a quiet, “Welcome home.”

Home.

The word had never sounded so good to her ears, nor so right. She turned almost full circle, taking everything in as Gold moved past her to set her bag on the small landing at the turn in the stairs; in front of the stained glass.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, earning a soft smile from Gold as he reached for her hand and led her further into the house.

“It lacks the presence of a woman,” he answered, then as they reached the kitchen, he turned and took her into his arms. “Until now,” he finished softly.

Belle couldn’t help but blush softly, before running her hands upward over his lapels to rest over his shoulders, her fingers clasped behind his neck.

“I’m happy to be here, Lennox, truly,” she murmured, and teased at the back of his neck just a little, with the tips of her fingers, and felt him shiver against her. It brought a faint smile to her lips, mirrored in his own, before they shared a soft, almost tentative kiss.

“Perhaps we should eat something first,” he suggested, his voice thick with desire as their lips came apart. “There’s some soup in the fridge. It wouldn’t take long to heat it.”

If their kiss in the kitchen had been tentative, then whatever restrained them was shed with their clothing as they reached the bedroom. Lips met, hands caressed and bodies moved as one as they treasured each other with the whole of their being. She felt as though her heart beat in his chest, and his in hers; his breath filled her lungs, and when at last they joined as one body, she all but wept at the rightness of it. In time. In place. It was perfection, and when, at last, they lay, spent, in each other’s arms, and sleep claimed them, it was with the utmost trust that they rested.

Forever in a single moment.

She woke the following morning long after dawn. She couldn’t see that it was so late in the day for the thick curtains that hung across the windows; a deep, almost royal red. Still, she felt the lateness of the hour down to the core of her body, as if it were somehow a part of the world itself.

She sat up, drawing the covers with her, though there were none to shock with her nakedness, and in spite of the lateness at which she and Gold had finally drifted to sleep - so wrapped up in each other that it was not possible to tell where each of them became a separate being - she felt rested. She felt better than she had in a long while.

It was not long until she had showered, and dressed for the day, and headed downstairs to find Gold.

When she entered the kitchen, Gold smiled, folded and set down the Storybrooke Daily Mirror and came to his feet to greet her with a hug and a light kiss, before guiding her to a place at the kitchen table before he set about serving her breakfast.

“You should have woken me,” she told him with a smile. “I could have helped you with all this.” She gestured at the table, where toast sat in the rack, with fresh butter in one dish, and what looked like home made jelly in another, and from the stove-top was lifting freshly cooked sausage, bacon, and scrambled eggs onto a fine farmhouse plate.

“And deprive me the opportunity to cook breakfast for you?” he asked, teasing just a little.

She harrumphed playfully, and reached out to at least pour herself a cup of tea, and to refresh his own. There was a third cup on the tray beside the sugar pot and milk jug, and as Gold brought over the plates that contained their breakfast, she raised a querying eyebrow, certain that he was ‘playing dumb’ when he mirrored the action.

She nodded her head toward the extra cup. “Expecting someone to join us?” she asked.

Gold sighed, then admitted, “As a matter of fact, yes. Leroy will be calling by to collect me. He and I have an appointment, a job to do that cannot be delayed any longer.”

Belle’s eyebrow raised even higher, then dipped into a serious frown. “That sounds ominous,” she said. “Why have you been putting it off?”

He sighed again, and then reached for her hands, which he took gently into his own.

“I’m glad you came to me yesterday,” he began, “I would have been glad even without the unwelcome appearance of Killian Jones, and the… very much welcome outcome of that encounter.” He lifted her fingers to his lips to kiss them tenderly, sending a shiver through Belle, as the memory of what he did the previous night with those kisses flowed from the almost innocent morning caresses. “But the truth of the matter is that if you had not come to me, I would have come to you. I realized I should, no, that I must. I couldn’t lie to myself - nor to you - any longer.” He leaned closer then, and tightening his grasp on her fingers just a little more, said, “But now I feel I must apologize, and… and it saddens me that our relationship - or at least what I hope will become our relationship, must begin like this.”

“Lennox, what are you talking about?” she asked, confusion creasing her face, “Like what? Why do you think you need to apologize to me? Why now?”

“Because what I must do - with Leroy’s help - is something that I know you aren’t going to like.”

#rumbelle #AU (slight)#cursed storybrooke #angst #romance #Smut #the library beneath the clock tower #The Bookshop on the Corner #only one more chapter #peacehopeandrats

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always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years

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Coming, Coming Home Chapter 3 (Except it’s actually called Building Home now)

Hello fuckers so I impulsively changed the name of my big fic because I have Plans for the title coming home so now it’s called building home, but it’s still the same fic. Also here’s chapter 3 please read the warnings and if you spot any typos lmk because I wrote this late at night.

Also! The last chapter title was from i hope ur ok by noll! The POV for this chapter is White Lily, which makes it officially the first chapter from the POV of an original character, so I hope you enjoy!

Title: Building Home

Chapter Title: The day it was suddenly real

Chapter Wordcount: 3404

Chapter Summary:

Cherri Cola arrives home. Wounds are stitched, impulsive decisions are made, and no one is especially okay.

Warnings: Needles, blood, injury, fairly frank discussion of death and child death. (If you want to know what parts to skip, go to the end notes on AO3- I also put a brief summary of any important info in those parts. Stay safe!)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Chapter 1 Tumblr Post

Chapter 2 Tumblr Post

(Actual fic under the cut)

Lily looked up as Cherri stumbled into the house, pressing a hand to his side and wincing. She and D had gotten back a few minutes ago, finding their mission for the day discouraging and hopeless. D was off upstairs somewhere, she thought, and she was nursing a cup of ‘tea’, which was something more approximating warm water with a little bit of some sort of dried leaf they had found in the kitchen cabinets boiled in it. They were both pretty sure it was actually parsley, but Lily insisted it was ‘minty enough’. It wasn’t as if they had anything else for tea. She would have gotten something to eat as well, but they were mostly out and they would need enough left for dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast.

So, in short, it had been an incredibly shitty day and it was about to get even worse. Given that Cherri proceeded to pass out on their floor.

Lily swore under her breath and set down her cup, hurrying over to the younger killjoy. “Cherri?”

No reply. She crouched next to the other and gently turned him over, sucking in a sharp breath at how much blood covered his side. “Cherri! D, get down here! Quickly! And bring the med kit!”

D came hurrying in a few seconds later, grabbing the first aid kit off the wall as he did. “What’s going on, Lil- Cherri!”

Lily grabbed the kit from him and dug around for the disinfectant, swearing under her breath all the while. In her opinion, there were times that called for generous usage of the word fuck, and this was one of them.

“Cher, wake up,” Lily whispered as she cleaned the wound, trying futilely to wipe away the blood so she could see.

Cherri jerked under her hands, eyes blinking open. “D- Lil- you have to go.”

“Go where?” D asked gently. It was clear Cherri wasn’t going to let them help until he passed on whatever he was going to say, so Lily let D talk.

“Go- just. Just go somewhere. They know about the radio station- bli, they’re coming to hunt us down soon. They know Lil’s in Zone Four.”

D and Lily exchanged glances.

“Go pack our stuff,” Lily told him. “I’ll take care of Cher.”

D nodded to her and hurried upstairs as she threaded the needle with hands that shook more than she wanted to admit. “Okay, Cherri, I need you to be brave. This is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Got it.” Cherri’s teeth were clenched.

Lily started the first stitch, trying not to flinch as Cherri gave a tiny yelp of pain. “It’s going to be okay, only a few more stitches, okay?”

She got a tiny nod and another hiss of pain in response. Every pained noise cut at her heart, but she couldn’t let Cherri lose too much blood. Only the Phoenix Witch knew how much he had lost already. So Lily put in careful stitch after careful stitch, pausing to clean the needle occasionally.

“What happened, Cher?”

“Went to- went to raid a supply truck.” He sucked in a breath as Lily tied off the next stitch. “Exterminator was altered by the clap. Found me and shot me.”

“How the hell did you get away?” D was returning from the upstairs with almost everything they owned neatly packed away, getting ready to pack up any stuff in the living room that they’d be able to take.

“They-“ he winced. “They let me go. Threatened me, told me to tell you two that you wouldn’t win.”

Lily glanced at D again and found that the concern in his eyes mirrored her own. “Okay, you’re all sewed up, Cherri. Let’s go out to the van.”

Cherri tried to get up, but D pushed him down firmly. “Absolutely not, you’re barely even stitched up. I’ll carry you out.”

“Fine.” Cherri didn’t resist as D picked him up, following Lily outside. She watched to make sure everything went smoothly as they set him down on the small nest of blankets and other soft things Lily had thrown together, then headed to the front. By the time D had settled next to their youngest crew member, she was already in the drivers’ seat, getting ready to take them away from here.

Lily thought she heard Cherri mutter something about ‘I’m not a child’, but he was curled up and fast asleep within minutes as she stepped on the gas.

And meanwhile, Dr. Death Defying made his way back up to the front of the van carefully, sliding into shotgun.

“Feels real now,” Lily said as her best friend settled next to her. She was still carefully steering them down the road, trying not to bump too much and wake up Cherri.

“We knew the consequences from the start.” D’s voice was businesslike, but Lily could hear the strain of worry behind it.

“We did. We’ve seen enough death to know it could happen to us.” She didn’t take her eyes off the road. “But it feels more real when it’s Cher who got hurt.”

“He’s so young,” D agreed. Their voice had softened and grown quieter.

“He is. God, I know he’s hardly younger than we were when we were shipped off to fight, but he’s still a child, D.”

“I know, Lil.”

“He’s so small. So young. And he’s got that way about him like there’s kindness behind the pain. Who put him in this war? Who let him be one of our little rebel soldiers? He should be….”

“Happy,” D finished for her. “Safe. Not going head-to-head with exterminators and helping run a radio station.”

“Exactly.” Her voice shook more than she would have liked. “Are we doing the right thing, D? Can we justify letting children fight a war we know we might not win?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly.

“It’s not like we can stop them from fighting, but sometimes I question if we should encourage them,” Lily went on. “So many of them are going to die, D.”

“That’s how war is. We know that.”

"We learned it well.” She knew her laugh was a little bit bitter. “It’s still not right, though.”

“No, it’s not. But we’re not fighting for nothing. There’s a future without Better Living, and we have to fight for that. Fight for it with everything we’ve got.”

Lily sighed. “I guess you’re right. I don’t like it, but we don’t have a choice now. Got ourselves into this mess, I guess we better get ourselves out of it.”

“That’s the spirit,” D said dryly.

“You think we should send Cher away?” It was an abrupt subject change, but that was what had been hovering in her mind as she and D debated morality. “He’s going to get hurt a lot by being with us.”

“He’s going to get hurt either way. He wasn’t even with us today when he got hurt, and the exterminator didn’t sound like they recognized him. Cherri is reckless, we both know. He’s going to get hurt.”

“And it’s not like he would listen if we tried to send him away anyways.”

“That too. He would stick to us like superglue.”

Lily took her eyes off the road briefly to glance back at Cherri, who was still curled up tightly as they bumped along. Even when he slept, there was a slight bit of guardedness to him, unwilling to fully stretch out. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“Me too.”

They hadn’t known where they were going when they packed up and left the house, only knowing that they needed to get out, but a plan started to form in White Lily’s mind as they headed down the road. D didn’t question her, seemingly absorbed in his thoughts as he stared out the window, and Cherri was passed out from a combination of blood loss and not sleeping well for a while. Ever, really. Lily didn’t think he had slept through the night since he arrived- he rarely actually woke one of them up, but she was up on her own often enough when he would be awake and bumping around. So even without the ray gun wound, he definitely needed sleep.

Lily turned them off the path they had been following, pulling up in a somewhat intact town. They were parked in front of the most intact house, an almost Victorian style home with sturdy walls. This was where Lily knew she could find an old friend, of sorts.

Autumn Assassin was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years old, about five foot four, and utterly and completely terrifying. They were the best shot with a ray gun she had ever met, with the possible exception of Cherri, and could use a variety of other weapons with startling ease. They were also terrifyingly competent at cooking and keeping organized, and hadn’t put up with anyone’s shit in living memory. Lily had served with them for a time in the Helium Wars, and that brief service together was enough to give her a healthy respect for them.

“Where are we?” D asked, finally seeming to come out of their thoughts.

“An old friend’s house." Lily headed into the back, grabbing one of the bags as D lifted Cherri carefully. She led the others up to the door of the old and mostly intact house, knocking once she had finished laughing at the ‘House of Soup’ spray-painted next to the door.

Said door was opened by an unfamiliar killjoy with messy blond hair. “Hello, what can I do for you?”

“I need to talk to Autumn Assassin, do they still live here?”

“Sure do!” There was a loud crash and some yells from within the house. “I’ll get them in uhhh a second. HEY AUTUMN! WE NEED YOU UP HERE!”

A few more yells followed that, as well as one or two more crashes. “Now put that sword down or so help me!” The familiar tiny killjoy appeared at the door, putting their hands solidly on their hips. “So what is it, Princey?”

“These fine ‘joys showed up on our doorstep and asked to see you.”

“Ah. White Lily!”

“Hey, Autumn Assassin. You don’t happen to have a spare room, do you?”

Autumn Assassin looked them up and down, eyes raking over D’s tired face, the bits of blood splattering all of them, and Cherri passed out in D’s arms. “Of course I do.”

Lily breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the smaller killjoy hurried them inside. The interior of the house proved to be quite cozy, a nice living room outfitted with a verity of mismatching and likely stolen or scavenged furniture. There were also a variety of killjoys lounging around the living room and/or draped over said furniture, laughing and calling back and forth to each other as Autumn Assassin led the three of them further inside and up the stairs.

They turned left on the landing, opening the door to what had once been a bedroom, clearly. “Here you go, this is the best free room in the house, currently. We might even have an extra mattress laying around, you’ll have to give me a second to find it through.” They rummaged around in the closet of the room for a few minutes. “Ah! Here we go!”

It was a larger mattress than one would reasonably expect to fit in a closet, but Autumn Assassin had managed to cram it in there anyways, it appeared. They hauled it out and laid it across the floor of the fairly bare room. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Lily said gratefully as D set Cherri down.

“Of course. Now come tell me about your friends and how you came to be here, I’ve got to cook dinner but you can come downstairs with me.”

“I’ll wait with Cherri,” D told Lily. “He’ll probably not be very happy about waking up alone in a strange place.”

Lily nodded and so did Autumn as they tromped downstairs, shouldering past another killjoy to reach the kitchen. “And here we go, pass me that can of power pup, would you?”

Lily handed it to them. “So you’ve been living here…”

“Couple of months now, me and the brit boys settled down here first and then we acquired a couple of other friends along the way. It’s a safehouse of sorts, we give a room to anyone who needs one.”

“Gotcha.”

“So how did you come to be here with an injured teenager and that other guy?”

“That other guy is Dr. Death Defying, my friend from my very first squadron. And the teenager is Cherri Cola, a random killjoy who came to live with us after he accidentally stumbled on our house while looking for shelter.”

“Seems legit.” They were stirring a pot of power pup with a few other things thrown in. “So how did you end up here?”

“You know 109 WKIL?”

“The radio station? Of course I do.”

“We run that, you might know, and so Better Living Industries has been trying to track our signal. Cherri went out and got hurt in a clap with an exterminator, and the exterminator told him that they were close to finding WKIL, so we had to leave home in a hurry.”

“And he didn’t die? An exterminator?”

“Didn’t die, just got hurt. He’s a good shot and a much better fighter than you would expect.”

Autumn Assassin nodded, stirring the pot one more time before they put it over the fire already lit in the sink. “So you decided to come here?”

“I knew it would be safe, and I figured you would let us stay for a while.”

“Hon, you can stay as long as you need.” They made a face. “I’ve started talking like a southern grandma.”

“You practically are a grandparent,” Lily deadpanned.

“Rude. See if I let you stay here now.” Their voice was joking, and Lily didn’t think for a second they would actually kick her out. “But in all seriousness, you really can stay for as long as you need. You’re staying until your friend is healed at least. He looks like barely more than a kid.”

“He’s sixteen. Seventeen by now, I’m guessing, but he didn’t tell us his birthday.” She ignored the faint twinge of guilt that neither she nor D had thought to ask. Birthdays weren’t such a big deal in the desert, but they still celebrated when they could.

“See? Child. Baby. Youngster.”

“You’re literally twenty-five.”

“I’m still not a literal child. Plus, I’m a cat grandparent.”

White Lily raised her eyebrows at them.

“Princey- his name is Prince of Wales but we call him Princey- adopted a mangy stray cat. And we’ve decided I’m the collective parent friend.” Autumn gave the pot another fierce stir.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” They lifted the pot off the heat. “Dinner!”

This was met by a cascade of killjoys thundering down the stairs and several more hurrying in from the living room, much to Autumn Assassin’s disgruntled “One at a time!”

Within a few minutes, everyone had snatched one of the chipped bowls or plates (some of which appeared to actually be empty power pup cans) and were lined up neatly. D and Cherri appeared to have been alerted by the noise as well, given that they made their way slowly down the stairs after everyone else.

“Guests first,” Autumn Assassin said firmly, and the killjoys all stepped aside to let D and Cherri by. “Here you go, Lily, here you go…Dr. Death Defying, Lily said?”

He nodded.

“And here you go, young man.” They dumped some in the chipped bowl one of the ‘joys had handed Cherri.

“Thank you,” Cherri said quietly.

“Of course. Go sit down, you three, I’m going to hand some out to the rest of this lot.” Within a few minutes, the entire household was sprawled back out around the room eating the mixture that Autumn Assassin had spooned onto their plates, and Autumn Assassin came to join the three of them over in the corner Lily had claimed.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, I’m Autumn Assassin.”

“Cherri Cola.”

“Dr. Death Defying. It’s nice to meet you; Lily said you were a friend of hers?”

“We knew each other during the Helium Wars,” Lily explained. “I figured they would be happy for us to come stay a bit.”

“And I am, you can stay as long as you need. We don’t turn away ‘joys in need in this household.” They gestured with their spoon a bit as they spoke, adding emphasis to their words. “If I have extra food and rooms, I might as well give them to people.”

“Well, we’re very glad you do,” Dr. Death Defying put in.

“Of course.”

The rest of the dinner was quiet, at least for the four of them. The rest of the room was filled with laughter and chatter and spirit, a bunch of teens and twenty-something killjoys talking between themselves and having a good time. Occasionally, one of them got up to grab more from the pot that Autumn Assassin had prepared, until the entire thing was empty and everyone seemed to have eaten their fill. After the meal was over, they all split off to different places, some off to bed and some to hang out on the roof, it seemed. The three of them went back to the little room, figuring that Cherri could use some rest and all pretty tired themselves.

Cherri was conked out within minutes, and D and Lily settled on the mattress but didn’t go to sleep just yet.

“I hope we don’t bring bli down on Autumn Assassin’s head,” D fretted softly.

“If we do, they’ll flip the corporation off and keep right on cooking,” Lily predicted with a snort.

D gave a small chuckle. “They might just, from what I’ve seen of them so far.”

“They’re terrifyingly put together. And a good fighter, but how organized they are is scarier.”

“They act like they have their life together.”

Lily flopped on her back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure they do. Unlike us.”

“Unlike us. We’re trying to run a revolution at twenty-two and twenty-one though, I think it can be forgiven.”

“Probably.”

D groaned softly as he settled down as well. “I’m too young for achy everything.”

“So am I, and everything still fucking hurts sometimes.”

“Guess that’s life.”

The duo stared up at the ceiling together as Cherri slept well, not exactly peacefully, but not horribly, at least. They had already talked about the morality of all this, but Lily was sure that would have been their topic of conversation if they hadn’t. It was awfully hard to decide if they were doing the right thing, sometimes. They were fighting for the future of their generation and all the ones after, but that fight would take away hundreds or thousands of futures as well. Could the death of so many people, so many teenagers, just barely out of childhood, be justified? Could she ask children to die for her? It had been an exhausting day, but even in the safety of Autumn Assassin’s house, her mind refused to rest. She had a thousand doubts and no one to say them to, not even D. They doubted too, she knew, but D had a somewhat more utilitarian approach to it all. To him, the world they were fighting for was worth all the death and pain. It had to be, or why would they fight? So Lily didn’t say anything further about it, but she didn’t sleep either.

It appeared D wasn’t sleeping as well, as they shifted slightly on the mattress beside her. “It’s real now, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s real now,” Lily agreed quietly.

In the history books that Better Living Industries would write, the Analog Wars began in 2010, when dangerous anarchists attacked a peaceful Better Living Industries encampment. In the stories passed down by the killjoys, they began a couple of months before that, with the attack on a small town of killjoys and neutrals by Better Living Industries. But to Dr. Death Defying and White Lily, the war began the second their friend staggered in the door with a hand pressed to his bleeding side and a dreadful warning on his lips.

#auri writes #building home tag #white lily #cherri cola #dr. death defying #autumn assassin #coming coming home tag #chapter 3 #angst

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a-simple-imagine · 4 years

Text

Mother of Exiles

Synopsis: Guess it’s time to get the ball rolling on this revolution but first a party

Pairing: Dolores Abernaty x fem!reader

words: 2.6k

A/N - Sorry this is late. I have a lot going on.

Warning: Guns. Mentions of nudity.

"Did you find something?"

Her gentle voice draws your eyes from the mirror as she walks towards you joined by another. For your first mission, you had been given the ultra dangerous task of.... going shopping; not exactly what you expected but here you were stood in some overly pristine clothing establishment. It was rather small and didn't appear too busy but just about everything in her cost more than your apartment. You wonder if Dolores knew that when she brought you here. It had been a while so you flash a smile at her return. You weren't sure how much longer you could put up with being here, or Karen who keeps asking if you need any help every five minutes. Although you did appreciate the compliments being thrown your way with every new outfit.

The AR mirror was a particular favourite of your shopping adventure. It made the tedious notion of shopping a tad more bearable. Your reflection wore a black and navy blue peak lapel tuxedo jacket with matching flare pants. It wasn't a bad look, minus the flare.

"Not really," your entire body slumping with a groan. "Nothing looks right,"

With a hand placed delicately over your shoulder, Dolores takes control of the AR menu. You watch as she shifts through the various options; dashing suits, delicate jumpsuits, elegant dresses before finally making her selection. It's always a treat to watch a new outfit unravel across your reflection and this time was no different. The most elegant of black dresses descended, a delicate embroidered flower pattern lines the chest that stopped above the waist. The V-neck plunged deep between the valley of your breast. It reached to the floor and from the shoulder was a cape. It was beautiful and you're almost in awe of her choice however it wasn't the most practical of outfits.

"It looks good on you," You meet her blue eyes in the mirror just before she turns to her companion. "Wouldn't you agree, Caleb?"

So his name was Caleb. You wonder who they are to each other as you await his response. He gives a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, looks good."

The corner of your lips turn up but you're still unsure of the choice. Staring at yourself, all you could focus on was everything possibly wrong with the outfit. Was it too long? Did the v-neck show off too much skin? Should you go for something simpler? Shorter?

"What is this for?"

"A party." Her hand glides off you shoulder as she steps back. "And you need to blend in,"

"I don't think a fancy dress is gonna make anyone believe I'm part of high society."

"It's tribal," Dolores insists. "They use plumage to identify themselves which makes them easily fooled."

"She said the same to me just go with it," Caleb adds, taking a seat off to the side.

"I couldn't possibly afford this," You explain in a hushed tone, twisting your body so you could have a gander at the back. It mimicked a backless dress through its use of see-through material and edged with flora of eccentric lace.

"I think this is a winner," Guess she made up your mind. You didn't mind though, making decisions when it came to spending could be... difficult at times.

"Wouldn't something a little more practical work better if we're on the job," You counter as you step down from the podium almost weirdly relieved to be in your everyday clothes.

"It won't matter," she insists. "We are not doing anything complicated."

"So what are we doing anyway?"

Dolores explained the operation as if she was explaining something very complex to a young child. To summarise you were planning to attend a party of sorts in order to find and detain Liam Demphery Jr, a figurehead of Incite Inc. So as you got ready, you mentally prepared yourself to kidnap a man or more so borrow. You could live with that. It wasn't like you were some corporate bootlicker; you were just new to all this crime business and you didn't exactly have much of a choice. Help Dolores or die w're your options.

Even in an age of speed, you're still surprised by how quickly they altered the dress to your liking. You just wanted it a little shorter so it was easier to walk in and run should the moment arise. Goes to show that money really was power. The dress may not have been the most practical but it did look the part. Dolores was sporting a simple but frankly spectacular jumpsuit that stopped just above her chest. Her beautiful blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looked amazing, not that you had been staring as you walked in just a few steps behind her. Meanwhile, Caleb was beside you dressed in a black tuxedo with a black shirt and tie. You had to admit the man cleans up well; he looked very dapper. You all matched in a sense; all in team colours if you will. When Dolores had said party, she meant party. This was in no way you average get together but an almost overly pristine masquerade event full of elites. Women adorned beautiful white dresses while there wasn't a man in sight not in a tuxedo. The walls were covered in artwork of the finest caliber, some of it was even animated. The rich sound of the violinists filled the entire room with an aura of elitism and sophistication. You’re in awe of the world you've stepped into even though it wasn't for long. Heading towards a table decorated with a variety of masks. They had simply ones of one colour to ones with bold designs and feathers. You eye a white one with an intricate gold pattern but Dolores hands you a simple black one.

"What is this?" Caleb asks as he is given one too.

"I thought your world would be so different than mine," Dolores starts, placing the material mask over here head and fitting it against the bridge of her nose. "But there isn't any difference at all."

Dolores heads into the crowd and Caleb trails after. You place on your mask and follow in toe. Your eyes scanning the crowd for the target but you can't help but take in the sheer size and bizarreness of it all. It was like a different world; one filled with the finest of things but only for those in dresses worth way too much. It was surreal to be surrounded by so much wealth. There were various podiums set up around the room, each had a crystal chandelier of sorts hung above. And on display were tastefully naked individuals being ogled by the wealthy. You didn't feel any particular way towards nudity, you didn't see it as an abomination or indecent. You just didn't quite grasp what they were doing or what this whole event was even about.

"I'll take him when he's alone," Her words break you from you existential crisis over how rich people choose to spend their time. Dolores wore a small but knowing smile. "Wouldn't want to spoil the fun,"

You don't bother asking because if there's one thing you know about Dolores it's that she never answers your questions: and when she does it's usually vague and unhelpful. From the corner of your eye, you notice a server as they pass, quickly grabbing a flute of champagne off their little tray. Two sets of eyes fall to you and you buckle under the pressure. "What? I need something to calm my nerves-" You huff like a child being scolded. "Dolores just said to have fun."

It was true. You were feeling on edge and this would help with your confidence since Dolores insisted that you should stop using limbic tabs. You weren't sure how long you'd last without them but so far so good... kinda. "Stay focused."

"I can multi-task." With a heavy sigh, both of them continue walking. "How long is this gonna take?"

Bringing the glass to your lips, you take a small sip to gauge the taste. Fine bubbles exploded against your tongue in an explosion of dainty flavours. It had a floral taste to it with hints of fresh fruit. Maybe a hint of peach? You couldn't be sure but either way, it tasted expensive. You've had champagne before but it never tasted like this.

"You're not enjoying yourself?" Caleb asks from a few steps ahead.

"Can't say I'm particularly interested in anything here," Your shoulders rise in a casual shrug as you narrowly avoid crashing into a couple who had no intention of moving out the way for you. "couldn't afford it either, the champagne is good though."

As your path drifts you find yourself separated from the others. Everything about this place absolutely reeked of privilege and nobody even suspected that you didn't belong. Guess Dolores was right in saying they are easily fooled. All it took was a gorgeous gown and a mask you never imagined yourself wearing. Staring up from the edge of a podium, you admire the man who was so proudly on display. He wore nothing but a Victorian ruffle style collar paired with sleeves. His muscles so defined as he lay his body bare for the world to see. You couldn't imagine being in his position but each their own. You tried not to look but you couldn't help your curiosity as your eyes drifted from his abs down to his rather... large penis and back. Jesus Christ, he could do some damage with that thing; not that you were judging him or choosing to objectify him. It was just an observation. You're unsure of his role at such a high-end event until you overhear someone ask to place a bid and all the little pieces fall into place. You were currently attending a sex auction? What even were rich people. Turning on your heel, you go in search of your companions and they weren't all that hard to find.

"Good, we're ready to intercept him," Dolores declares, turning to you as you approach. "Ready?"

You nod a little too eagerly. Your adrenaline was pumping. You could do this. There was no turning back now. It was a simple job just grab the target and leave, right? The blonde has you following her out of the ballroom and up the stairs. Readying a gun you didn't even know she brought with her. Where exactly had she been hiding it?

"Where did she get that from?" Your voice but a whisper as you speak to Caleb. The target, Liam, was being guided by two others. Dolores fired three rounds; each one an assault to the ears even with a silencer. You weren't used to it. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The taller of the two gentlemen came charging towards you all, Dolores strikes him first. Knocking the wind clean out of him. Looking to you two, Dolores holds out the gun. "Stay on Liam, I'll handle him."

"You sure?" There was uncertainty in his voice and you couldn't really blame him.

"Take it, I won't need it."

Caleb looks between the two of you before running off down the stairs. "You should go too,."

You don't want to leave her but you nod just once. Hesitating at the stairs; you glance back at her. Was she going to be okay? You've seen her shoot two men before your very eyes but this was an entirely different ball game. Whatever they were talking about, you were too far away to hear but for a second your eyes meet and it was enough to put your mind at rest or at least to send you chasing after Caleb.

Deep breathes as you finally break out into the cold night air, hunched over as you calm yourself down. You're pretty good in heels but apparently not when you need to be because you almost slipped down the stairs. Luckily nobody was around to see you but it was still embarrassing. After a moment, you stand up straight and walk up beside the man. He had the gun held up at Liam's surprise guest. Seemed like everything was under control.

"You're helping her aren't you- Dolores," The stranger spoke slowly and clearly; a little cautiously if you will. "are you one of us?"

"One of us?" You repeat looking to Caleb with furrowed brows. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," He growls. "Just give me the asshole and I will let you walk out of here."

With a nudge of his head, you take the hint but before you can even grab Liam he's calling out to someone. "Connells- the fuck took you so long."

Twisting around, you spy yet another gun; you were feeling very unprepared for this battle. Unsure of who he was pointing at, you back away a little in surrender. Flinching at the sound of gunfire but when your eyes open, it's to see him shoot the rest of his men. What was going on? The plan had changed so drastically.

"What the hell are you doing?" You know it's Liam. He's the only voice you weren't familiar with now but you don't dare to look. Focused in on the man with the gun.

"Don't you fucking twitch," The silver-haired Scott spat with a firm grip of his weapon. It was pointed in the same direction as Caleb's. You exchange a confused look with Caleb. Who were all these people? As the Scott drifts to Liam, you're quick to move out of the way.

"Run." Liam stumbles against the side of the vehicle; the rest of you too stunned to make a move. "Run, before I put a bullet in your pointy little head." His Scottish accent was thick which made him sound a little harsher than expected. Liam was hesitant, a little surprising for how cowardly he seemed, "fucking run!"

The fear was clear as Liam ran for his life; you were half expecting to witness a shooting but thankfully it never happened. Instead, his attention is drawn between you and Caleb. Guess he was on Liam's side after all.

"You better go after him," Or not. Caleb watches him and then turns to you; your shoulders rising up in the smallest of shrugs. You didn't need to be asked twice. Caleb is faster but you put that down to the fact he didn't have to put up with wearing heels all night as you jog along. You couldn't wait to trade them for a comfortable pair of boots.

"Leave me alone, I- I'll pay whatever you want." Rounding the corner, Caleb has Liam shoved up against the wall. The gun Dolores gave him being put to good use in front of his face.

"Oh yeah? Pay me with what, Huh, I have all your money."

"You do?" You question, Dolores had only filled you in on the plan but you were beginning to realise she had left a lot out.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm with her," Caleb spoke, his gun falling to the side as he lets the poor guy relax. You'd be questioning him if it weren't for the whisk of blond that just sauntered past you. Dolores.

"Hello, lover."

Wait... lover?

#westworld #dolores abernathy #Dolores abernathy x reader #evan rachel wood #westworld fanfiction

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pengychan · 4 years

Text

[Good Omens] Winging It - John 15:15

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: A good chunk of what happened in this chapter was not planned. I am really bad at planning.

***

“All right, let’s see - three options, no?”

“Yes. Owen Brown, Lawrence Brown, and Rusty Brown. According to the information--”

“It’s Rusty,” Crowley spoke up, causing both Gabriel and Aziraphale to fall quiet and turn to look at him. Gabriel was utterly confused; Azirapale just raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain that knowledge. The demon shrugged.

“I refuse to believe any parent whose surname is Brown would willingly choose to pick Rusty as their child’s name, unless there was a demonic intervention. It’s a bully magnet. Must have picked it himself when older. The man’s got a sense of humor.”

A chuckle. “We raised a child whose mother named him Warlock,” Aziraphale reminded him, causing Gabriel to blink.

“You did-- what?” he asked. To his knowledge there were a lot of things an angel and a demon were not supposed to do together - they were supposed to do nothing together, really, except trying to thwart each other at every turn - and Gabriel suspected that ‘raising a child’ came rather close to the top of that list. Maybe slightly below ‘stopping the Apocalypse’.

Crowley ignored him, rolling his eyes. “You know the Satanic nuns of the Chattering Order of St Beryl must have had something to do with it.” “The who and the what now?” Gabriel tried again. This time, it was Aziraphale to ignore him.

“That is… fair. But we cannot rule out the possibility his parents did pick the name, and that therefore he is not our man. May I remind you we once knew a lady called Farting Clack?”

Crowley chuckled. “Ah, Victorians. That was a fun time. Except when we argued because you wouldn’t give me holy water.”

“I did eventually, give it a rest.”

“You did what!” Gabriel exclaimed, outraged. Only to be, again, ignored.

“Took you a good while, is what I’m saying.”

“Well, excuse me for worrying you might accidentally--” Aziraphale trailed off like something had struck him, and Crowley flinched. They both turned to Gabriel at the exact same time; Aziraphale’s eyes were wide, Crowley’s were hidden behind glasses.

And Gabriel was very, very confused.

“... What?” he asked. The demon’s expression stayed unreadable, but Aziraphale’s anxious one melted in a smile. A very nervous smile. What in the--

“So, three options,” Aziraphale exclaimed, clapping his hands together with exaggerated glee. “Best to start looking into them, no?”

“Er… yes, I suppose. I do need to figure out where they live, at least. Then I suppose I can go by exclusion, visiting each of them.”

Crowley nodded. “Well, good thing we have an expert in tracking people down right here,” he said, and turned to Aziraphale. Gabriel followed suit, only for Aziraphale to blink at both of them like a particularly confused owl.

It… didn’t give Gabriel much confidence over his supposed expertise in tracking down people.

“I am-- no expert in tracking down people.”

Crowley’s turn to look confused. “You tracked down the Antichrist.”

“I had a book full of prophecies to give me pointers. I suspect that counts as cheating.”

“Or as an intelligent use of available resources,” Gabriel suggested. Aziraphale chuckled.

“That does sound better.”

“Ah. Right. We sure could use something like that now,” the demon muttered, and pulled out a phone from the… frankly ridiculously tiny pockets of his trousers, where no phone would fit unless there was a literal miracle at play. “... But at least we have the names and birthday, so there’s that. All right, first one, Owen Brown…”

***

“You’re shitting me.”

“Mr. Brown, I can assure you angels do not do that, either.” Uriel’s voice was calm, but her hands did grip the clipboard a little harder. She had hardly ever visited the lower spheres of Heaven where mortal souls resided before that ordeal, and now she was beginning to see why. “Please, do try to control your language.”

“Right, right, sorry,” Daniel Brown waved his hand, leaning back on his seat. “Not in front of a lady. Got it.”

“... I am an angel, Mr. Brown,” Uriel pointed out flatly just as the man’s wife, sitting by him, raised an eyebrow.

“Since when do you try not to curse in front of ladies? Because I can’t recall you holding back much in the twenty-something years we have been married.”

“You’re not a lady, you’re the wife. You knew the cussing was part of the package by the time we got to the altar, shouldn’t have married down,” Daniel Brown pointed out, and smiled. “Still not a clue why you gave me a chance when we met.”

She smiled back. “One too many drinks.”

“Ah, a drunken mistake, then.”

“The second best mistake of my life.”

“... Wait, what’s the first--”

Uriel held back a sigh. “Yes. Well. Regardless, what I have told you is true. You do have a brother as opposed to a sister as you believed.”

Daniel Brown rubbed his face. “Jesus Christ.”

“I repeat, there is no need to involve him,” Uriel droned. Mortals were a lot more difficult to deal with than she remembered, but then again last time she had directly dealt with any had been a few millennia earlier, when the trend was showing up with several pairs of wings, a few heads, wheels of fire and a handful of eyes here and there. They would occasionally die of fright but for the most part, once the screaming had ceased, they were cowed enough to politely listen.

And never did accuse them of, quote, shitting them.

“Right, I-- sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I just-- it’s a lot. First I die, it’s kind of, I mean, new. Then I met my wife again - wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but I thought I had lost her for-- well, it is a lot.” He cleared his throat again; Liv Brown reached to take his hand and squeezed it. He held it back. “Then, turns out the slightly weird but not-bad-at-all guy who helped me land a job and befriended me was the literal Archangel fuck-- the Archangel Gabriel in exile. And now you’re telling me that Alison is not… Alison anymore, and that I wasted over a decade searching for her-- him-- on wrong information.”

Well. Perhaps it was, indeed, a lot to deal with for any human mind. Uriel made an effort to smile. “Gabriel is currently working on locating him so he can give him news of your passing. If there is anything more specific you wish him to know, within reason--”

“Within reason?”

“Except letting him know you’re sending this message from beyond death. That, I am afraid, is forbidden by current guidelines.” Uriel took a blank piece of paper she had on her clipboard and placed it on the table, along with a pen. “It will be given to Gabriel, and he’ll relay your message once your brother is found. It’s what he does best, after all.”

“... Heh. From announcing the birth of Christ to telling my brother I’m sorry I was a dick. Bit of a downgrade, but life is shi-- crap, anyway.” Daniel Brown chuckled and took the pen, but didn’t start writing yet. He looked at her questioningly. “… Why was he cast out? What happened?”

He’d asked before, and Uriel had told him it was none of his business, if not precisely using those exact words. When that had happened, her memories of Gabriel were few and in-between, and she was no longer sure the events had been precisely as they’d remembered and recorded for future reference.

Now that those memories were back - only of Gabriel, none of them had dared bring up the possibility of trying to remember other angels who were no more - she could tell him the details, if so she wished.

She did not, in fact, wish to. But it was not for her to decide.

“... I will ask Gabriel whether he wishes us to share that information with you,” she finally said. Daniel Brown seemed to realize it was the most he could hope for and he just nodded before he looked down, swallowed, put the pen to the paper, and began writing.

***

“He’s writing back!”

“Is he?”

“Yes. That’s what the dots mean. He’s typing.”

“This was… surprisingly easy.”

“Oh, I know. Whatever demon worked on Zuckerberg got a promotion, I heard. Got to admit, that Cambridge Analytica affair was a stroke of genius.”

“Ah, so that was Hell’s doing.”

“I’m amazed you doubted that for even a moment.”

Gabriel supposed he might have guessed what Aziraphale and his demon were talking about if he focused, but he did not: all he could do was stare at the screen of Crowley’s phone, at those dots as the man at the other end - Rusty Brown, a man with rather debatable taste in t-shirts who, according to his profile, had indeed been born in Plymouth seventy years earlier but did not resemble Daniel in the slightest - wrote his response.

Maybe it is him, he thought. It would be a stroke of luck for Daniel’s brother to turn out to be the only man they’d been able to find and approach through social media; an easy way to deliver a message if there ever was one. That would be good. Too good, given Gabriel’s recent luck.

And, within moments, a message came to confirm as much.

“I’m afraid you got the wrong man, I have two sisters and no brothers,” Rusty Brown had written. “Sorry - best of luck with your search.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Ah, I supposed that would have been too easy.”

“No such thing as something too easy. I like it when things are easy.” Crowley frowned at his phone. “And here I thought he was the most likely candidate. Let me see…” he mumbled, and began typing. Gabriel craned his neck to see the screen.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking if his sisters are among his friends.”

“... Why?”

“If their parents went and named him Rusty, I’m curious to see-- ah, Scarlet and Sandy Brown. Not sure I want to imagine what grade school was like for them,” he muttered, and blocked the screen. “Well. One’s out, two left.”

“And we did find one Owen Brown on the electoral register whose age fits,” Aziraphale added glancing at Gabriel. “If only we could figure out the place of birth, we’d know if he’s the Owen Brown on our list. But it’d be quicker to go speak to him, he lives in Luton. No phone number - probably no landline.”

Gabriel, who had only a very vague idea of where Luton was, nodded. “I’ll go find him, then. I took the rest of the week off specifically for this,” he added. What he was doing for Daniel was of paramount importance, of course, but he was also needed at work and disappearing with no warning would have been extremely unprofessional.

Aziraphale waved a hand. “It won’t take long. Crowley and I can take you--”

“Absolutely not," Crowley declared, cutting him off. Aziraphale turned to glance at him. Crowley crossed his arms and tilted up his chin, clearly ready to stand by what he’d said.

A sigh. “Crowley, it wouldn’t take more than--”

"We're not going with him. We'll put him on the first train, give him a map, and good luck to him."

"Now, dear. Luton is not that far, it would take less than a hour with the Bentley and you wouldn't even need to take the M25--"

"It’s not the M25 that’s the problem,” Crowley replied. “After driving down it while on fire, I don’t think it’s going to ever feel like a problem on a normal day again. Luton is the problem.”

"... Something in particular about it that I don't know about?"

"Last time I was there, I got stabbed."

"Oh. That does sound bothersome,” Aziraphale conceded. “What did you do to--"

"I walked in a pub."

“And then?”

“Nothing. I walked in a pub and got stabbed by someone who decided he didn’t like the way I was looking at him.”

“Were you not wearing sunglasses?”

“Of course I was.”

“Then how would he know--”

“He didn’t. He just was in a stabby mood.”

“Charming,” Aziraphale muttered.

“Luton,” Crowley huffed.

“Well, it was probably quite a while ago--”

“The Nineties were not that long ago.”

“I… can go on my own,” Gabriel dared intervene, trying not to sound overly worried by what he was hearing. “I’ve taken trains to come here, after all. It wasn’t difficult.”

Aziraphale seemed a little concerned regardless, but in the end he relented, and Crowley did drive him to the station the next morning, to catch a train for Luton. With that, the address and money for a cab, Gabriel was rather sure he was at no risk of getting lost.

And he’d make sure not to step in any pub, just in case.

***

“... Not the bloke you’re looking for, no. Sorry, mate.”

“Ah-- well, I suppose it was worth a try. I’ll be on my way. My apologies for the intrusion.”

“No, wait - I was about to go have a pint with some mates, come with us. It’s on me.”

“Really, I cannot accept--”

“You can, young man. Won’t let you go your way looking like someone kicked you. A pint or two always makes it better - just a quiet night out with the lads.”

“Well…” Gabriel hesitated a moment, then relented. A pint or two was nothing he couldn’t take - he’d had nights out like that in Southampton, first with Daniel and then with other colleagues. And besides, the man was in his late sixties; surely, things wouldn’t get too out of hand. In the end, he smiled and nodded. “... Only if you let me pay the second round,” he said.

He did pay the second round. Owen Brown paid the third. A friend of his paid the fourth; Gabriel insisted to pay the fifth.

Afterwards, he wouldn’t be entirely sure any of them was paying at all.

***

Ever since regaining his memories of Gabriel - and before then, really - Sandalphon had wondered what meeting him face to face again would be like. Last he’d seen him, Gabriel had been terrified of him, hiding behind Beelzebub of all beings; it was not a pleasant thought.

He could speak with Michael without fear now, at least, and Sandalphon hoped it was only a matter of time before he would willingly summon him, too, so that they could talk. Clear up, if possible, even if it would be a difficult conversation.

What he had not expected was for Gabriel to summon him by drunkenly shouting his name in the back of a pub in Luton, England, before the eyes of a group of drunken humans who cheered at his appearance like it was a magic trick while someone from inside yelled about not firing fireworks close to buildings.

And Gabriel looked… almost more dishevelled than he’d been when he had been cast out of Heaven, except that now he had No blood on him and a smile on his face almost too wide to be physically possible.

“San-dal-phon,” Gabriel had slurred, throwing an arm around his shoulders before he could say a word and turning to the humans. “This is my friend, guys!”

“I, uh…” Sandalphon had blinked as the humans raised their glasses and cheered. He chose to give a polite smile. “Greetings,” he said. Some responded to his greeting, some just drank, someone put a glass in his hand, and he stared at it for a few moments before realising they expected him to drink.

“Good,” Gabriel was muttering, arm still around his shoulders. Strange as his behavior was, it was… nice to see he was not afraid of him. “Good stuff. Try.”

Ah well, Sandalphon thought, may as well do as he asked. It wasn’t like a glass of whatever concoction the humans had offered him could hurt an angel, anyway.

***

“Uuuugh.”

“Owww.”

“Head hurts.”

“Where are we?”

“... Earth?”

“This isn’t Heaven for sure.” Gabriel sat up, fighting back a wave of nausea, and blinked blearily to put his surroundings into focus. They were in… someone’s back garden, it seemed, on what looked like a semi-inflated camping mattress. “Probably still Luton,” he muttered, rubbing his face, and turned. Whose house was that? He’d only seen Owen Brown’s home from the front, so it was hard to tell. God, they must have been blind drunk to crash like that. The sun was just rising, and he barely remembered a handful of moments from the night before.

Behind him, Sandalphon was struggling to sit up as well, his suit all wrinkled; Gabriel suspected his own suit looked about as much of a mess, and went to uselessly smooth down the front. “You… miracled the glasses full a few times, didn’t you?”

“I think? I-- ah, yes. Yes I did. In front of witnesses.”

“Drunk witnesses. They will either forget about it, or think they dreamed it up.”

“God, I hope so. If Michael finds out, I’m going to be in trouble.”

“You can sleep on my couch if they cast you out,” Gabriel tried to joke, trying to brush back his hair and entirely missing the uncomfortable look Sandalphon gave him. “Agh, my head…”

“Wait, I can fix that.” A touch on the back of his head, and the pain was gone - as was the hangover as a whole, the unpleasant taste in his mouth and the ache in his lower back. Gabriel stood, glancing down - his suit was once again clean and pressed, too.

“... Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He heard Sandalphon standing up as well, and turned to look at him as he miracled his own clothing back in pristine condition. He adjusted his collar, and cleared his throat. “Well, that was… an unusual evening.”

“It was,” Gabriel agreed. “Er… why are you here in the first place?”

“You summoned me?”

“I did?” Ah, he probably had. “... My apologies. I was intoxicated.”

“I could tell. But-- still better than having you scream and hide behind the Prince of Hell, no?” Sandalphon added, clearly trying to joke. His smile froze when Gabriel flinched - at the mention of Beelzenbub, namely, but Sandalphon couldn’t tell. “I mean-- sorry. Shouldn’t have brought it up. I know you have… good reason to want us to keep away.”

A sigh. “Do I?” Gabriel muttered, turning to face him fully. “I knew you wouldn’t have harmed me again. And I knew you didn’t have a choice when you did."

“But we sort of did,” Sandalphon said, meeting his gaze. “We could have refused and-- gone with you.”

“Rebelling to God on my account?” Gabriel repeated, and found himself unable to contemplate the thought. “You’d have found yourselves in Hell, and not Earth, for something like that. It doesn't bear thinking about,” he added, realizing the truth of it only as it passed his lips. Say that Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon had indeed refused to carry out God’s order - what then? They would have faced God’s wrath, probably thrown down in Hell, while Gabriel was stripped of his wings and cast down on Earth anyway.

And Gabriel found he couldn’t bear the thought.

“We… we should have--”

“It doesn’t matter. The outcome wouldn’t have changed,” Gabriel cut him off. “It was… out of your hands. No point thinking about it now.”

A long breath. “All right. But I am-- glad we still remember you.”

Something about those words warmed up a spot in Gabriel’s chest. He smiled. “Thank you. I’m glad I never forgot you.”

“If there is anything you need-- anything at all--”

A sudden whistling noise caused Sandalphon to cut off, and Gabriel to pull out his mobile phone from his pocket. The battery was still full - a little miracle by Aziraphale ensured it never ran out - and there was a flashing icon on the screen, that of a text message. The number was not among his contacts, but Gabriel suspected he could guess who it came from.

He simply didn’t really know anyone else whose number could possibly be 666-666-666. No one he was on speaking terms with, anyway.

Are we still on speaking terms?

Gabriel forced himself to ignore the thought, and opened the text message. There was a name, an address, followed by only three words: it is him.

Gabriel read the message again, then put the phone back in his pocket. He briefly touched his breast pocket, where the message Daniel had written was. He had memorized it, of course, so he could relay it to his brother, but what he hadn’t thrown it away; the reason why he had not were a few brief lines Daniel had written on the back of it that were not addressed to his brother.

They were addressed to him.

Thank you for doing this for me. Sorry I didn’t believe you when you said who you were but, I mean, come on. I miss having you around. You’re a good man, what does God know anyway? Hug my brother for me and give the guys at work a pat on the back. PS - Fabrizio was right, putting cream in carbonara does land you in Hell. Warn Łukasz to stop.

“Gabriel? Everything all right?” Sandalphon asked, and he looked up.

“... Yes. I do need a favor, though.”

“Anything.”

“Could you give me a lift to Devon, by any chance?”

***

In the end, Lawrence Brown hadn’t moved too far from his old home in Plymouth. Or maybe he had, and made the decision to return to Devon in his later years; not something Gabriel could blame him for. Built by the sea, Paignton seemed a good place to live.

The house Gabriel found himself looking at, too, seemed the perfect place to spend one’s retirement; a small white cottage with flowers in the garden, and a tree for some shade. However it seemed that no one was home, which was not something Gabriel had really prepared for. After knocking the door a few times to no avail, and briefly considering writing a message with his phone number - not viable, as he didn’t have a pen - he decided it would be best to try again later. Before he went, however, he tried to glance in through the window, just in case--

“... May I help you?”

A voice called out behind him, causing Gabriel to flinch and turn. He found himself facing what, for a moment, looked very much like a cloud; a very white and very fluffy cloud, with four legs, black eyes and a lolling tongue. A-- yes, a dog. Gabriel had been long aware of their existence, of course, but would never cease to be perplexed by the sheer variety of shapes and forms within what was essentially the same animal.

He’d never really wondered how humans had achieved that, but then again, humans were capable of more than he had thought possible for a long time - up to looking at some of God’s most efficient killing machines on Earth and somehow deciding they were going to make friends out of them, tying themselves to said killing machines with a length of rope. Or leather. Or fabric.

In this one case, it was leather specifically that tied that giant, smiling cloud of a dog to its human. A woman, somewhere between sixty and seventy, with gray hair pulled up in a bun, a rather oversized jumper, and thick black-rimmed glasses. She was looking at him questioningly, and Gabriel cleared his throat, giving his best smile.

Come on, he told himself, you’re the Messenger. You have delivered far odder messages than this one. Just don’t start with ‘do not be afraid’. They always freak out when you do.

“I think you may, yes,” he said, still smiling. “My name is Gabriel Archer. I’m looking for Mr. Lawrence Brown. I understand he lives at this address?”

“Oh,” the woman said, “I’m afraid my husband is out for some errands, but he should be back shortly. I don’t believe we’ve met,” she added, not stepping closer. A little wary of a stranger she found peering through her window - Gabriel supposed that was normal, even if he hadn’t showed up in the midst of golden light with a vast array of otherworldly and, he could see it now, frankly unnecessary features for the task.

The fluffy white cloud made a boofing sound, just kind of smiling at him, and Gabriel could see why she wasn’t counting too much on it being of any protection should he turn out to be… what did humans seem to fear again? Axe murderers? Gabriel certainly hoped he didn’t look like one.

“No, we have not,” he said. “Nor have I had the pleasure to meet your husband yet - I have… a message for him. From his late brother,” he added quickly.

Whatever she had been expecting, that was not it. She blinked, recoiling a little. “... From his brother?” she repeated.

“Yes. Daniel Brown,” he said, and saw some recognition in her eyes.

“He… talked about him, a few times, but not much,” the woman muttered, and it was easy to tell, from her expression alone, that it had been a sore spot for Mr. Lawrence Brown - the brother who had rejected him so long ago. She finally took a step forward, clearly reassured he was someone with an actual reason to be there that did not include mugging or violent murder. “Late-- has he passed away?”

“... I am afraid he has. I am sorry,” Gabriel murmured, and he truly was. It felt wrong, on every level, because it should have been Daniel to stand where he stood, to finally see his brother again after so long. He was meant to be a messenger but ah, he wished he didn’t have to be now. “I am here on his behalf, or… at least I picked up the search where he left off.”

“Are you his solicitor, or…?”

“Only a friend. Daniel had been looking for your husband to make amends, but he didn’t know… his current name.”

A sigh. “Of course, he would not,” she murmured, and finally stepped closer, holding out her hand. By her side, the cloud-dog kept wagging its tail, tongue still lolling. “I’m Berenice,” she said. “Lawrence’s wife, though you gathered that much. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Archer. ”

Gabriel smiled. “The pleasure is all mine,” he said, shaking her hand. When he let go of it, it immediately went to rest on the dog’s head.

“Well, it is awfully rude of me to keep you standing at my door like a salesman. Do come in. Lawrence should be back soon, or else he would have taken his walking stick. I still would very much prefer if he took it for short walks as well. He has a bad knee and I always tell him that his stupid kneecap doesn’t give a toss how long or short the walk is, when it decides to give in it gives in and he’d be in for a nasty fall without the stick. But he’s a stubborn old goat, of course. Pushing seventy and still acting like he’s twenty.”

Gabriel smiled, thinking back of the numerous occasions Daniel had insisted on picking up more weight than he could reasonably carry in the warehouse, just to show off, only to spend the entire evening complaining about his back ache… and then do it all over again the next day. “Seems stubbornness ran in the family.”

A chuckle. “I am sure he’ll be glad to hear more about what his brother was like,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. Gabriel hoped it would help, although nothing could change the fact he was there to inform Lawrence Brown of the untimely death of his younger brother.

“... I do hope I can give him more than bad news,” he said, and followed Berenice inside, daring to pat that dog-shaped cloud on the head to receive a soft boof and a very pleased look.

Maybe, Gabriel reasoned, the humans were on to something when they took killing machines and chose to make friends out of them.

***

"I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you." -- John 15:15

***

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randomkposts · 4 years

Text

The crack twilight shipping conversation

E :-"I took care of those girls who spread rumors about you"

"What girls?"

"Not important "

I have back flashes of this kid and I'm like yo she scares me.

K : Jane is terrifying. Just not in the same way to Bella as she is to others.

"We are going to Yellowknife, so you can see the northern lights at this time of year! They are glorious! This guy has agreed to fly us."

"Jane, I don't- wait, why is he shaking"

"Juicebox is also excited to see the northern lights"

Shaking man: "Absolutely ecstatic"

"I made sure that all the warm clothing fits your size! It's even real fur! "

Crack twilight ships

K - E, Crack AU, where Jane is the one who imprints on Bella, going after James for crime, and Bella has to deal with the insane situation of "I think I was kidnapped by a child, and the child is trying to woo me."

Except Jane's Idea of wooing is terrifying and surreal, and has some pretty bizarre stuff to try to impress her.

"Jane-"

"But let's double check!"

E -OMG

K :-”Jane, why do you always give people such strange nicknames? Quickmunch, O delicious, lunchmeat, mosquito bait, and now juicebox?

Except for Jaccob, who you just called stinky

Why do you call him that?

-Because he just is

He doesn't smell any worse than any other athletic teenage boy. You haven't even seen him since he got sick.

Hey, does she have a nickname for Bella, you think?

E -Jacobs sweating furiously at all these vampires

K -It's because he's a wolfy shapeshifter, but for story purposes, Jane has no Idea, just that she hates Bella's childhood friend.

Alec, who is back in Voltera, but Jane talks on the phone too, assumes she's being possessive of who Bella spends time with, and views him as a rival.

He tells her that.

E - The fact he face times this stuff. Supportive bro vampire.

K - Don't kill the rival Jane. Bella will be crying, and you don't want to spend time with her mourning. Maybe take her on a trip, and get some personal time

E -She does, but also scares ppl to give them cool shite.

K -I had a crack thought once, where I thought what's the randomest most out there mates I can give vampires. , where Jane's mate was a random old man that she met in the food chamber, was like ,"wait don't kill him!" It became quite a debate.

Alec's, on the other hand, was a toddler he met on a job, where a lady had been vampired, and had bad control. The kid wasn't even related to the target, just on a walk in a bad place and time. He can't get the face out of his head.

Neither of them are decided on who has it worse.

But Bella being shippable with almost any vampire in the series has way more potential for comedy.

Still, question, does Bella ever come to return the affection?

Edward is hundreds of years older than her, but looks roughly around her age. Staying beautiful, and around his age was something Bella found important to her in their relationship.

Jane, for all she is also centuries older than Bella, can not easily be mistaken for a young adult. Admittedly it could be claimed, possibly by dwarfism, but given that physical appearance is important to Bella, and plays a part in her affections to other people, how would that play into any potential relationship with Jane?

K - God, weird how what starts as crack, leads me to wonder about real questions.

If that random old man is in fact Jane's soulmate in the crack mate's verse, should she take her mate in the form she finds him, or eat him and hope he reincarnates. Is there only one possible match, or are there potential matches walking around that finalize when conditions are met? Is the old man, at his age, fit to be a mate to a centuries old vampire of a young body? What if he's amnesic. How would that translate to vampirism?

Should Alec keep tabs on the toddler who could be his mate, or let them go and hope for another chance encounter?

E -Probably yes, even though you are aware she is older than you, she is mature maybe *I debate on that due to they stay in that state forever* but you can't get over the fact that is a child's body

K -If Alec chose to keep tabs, when would be the time to reintroduce himself? And how?

E - I say let them go, cause this is a bit too close with the Renesmee and Jacob kind of thing

Hmmm I say reincarnation is kinder?

K-Is reincarnation even real, or a hope?

How would you find them?

E -They have vampires, werewolves and shit, but does reincarnation really draw the line?

First off how did they even know they were mates?

K -It is, though I can't see Alec child napping the toddler, and raising them himself

Some voice in their head screams "Mine!"

Edwards was just weird, because he thought his voice meant " my meal"

E -Bwhahaha

Oh God Eddy

K -The Cullens are unusual in that they turn people in life threatening situations.

Still,Carslie and Esmae certinally had some affection between them, before she commited suicide.

Why did Rosaline get Emmet turned again?

Beyond the bear wound, I mean?

She doesn't seem the type to go out of her way to do something like that for just anyone.

Maybe it was blurred by the blood, and the need for control, but something about him called out to her, I think.

"Rosalie confessed to Bella that she saved Emmett from dying because of his innocent look, dimples, and curly hair that reminded her of her best friend Vera's child, Henry, and that ever since the day she saw the baby she always wanted a child of her own just like him."

Somehow, I doubt she looked much at the appearance of someone covered in blood. She is trying to resist killing after afromented bear mauling.

That sounds like a post rescue justification.

E - True. Always wondered about that.

K - Anyway, I think he might just send Gianna, or something to guard the kid for a bit, if he decided to keep tabs. Gianna is just glad to be temporarily spared, and hopes that job success may mean Alec turns her into a vampire, or at the least, doesn't kill her.

E -Shot, i would make sure that kid have the best life ever if that means he doesn't kill me

K - But anyways, to a vampire who is not rescuing a human from a dangerous situation, or abstaining in general, sometimes they get a sense of "Mine!" About humans they see.

Jane, as a member of Voltri, where mates are occasionally found like this, has heard, and does not question, and in fact jumps on the opportunity.

Her human smells delicious, and is resistant to her gift, and absolutely perfect. Now, how to not kill her, while making Jane the center of her world.

That kid has aunt Gianna, who is not really an aunt, but is... A family friend now, and full intent to make the kid happy.

Gianna is a dead secretary as of Breaking Dawn, I think, But Alec has a need for the human, so he can borrow her.

She's well aware of her morality, at this point.

Also, get rid of that James guy, who found Bella while she was hiking in the woods, in this verse.

E - Yeah lets get rid of him!

Honestly the image of a grown asa man getting his ass handed to him by some 12 year old cracks me up.

K -While Bella might find inclination to view Jane romantically, possibly, sexual orientation may be an issue for her.

In cannon, Bella had the higher sex drive then Edward, and would have prefered that to marriage, indicating she may have a higher sex drive then romantic inclination.

Book Bella didn't show much interest in women, and I don't know what way she swings in this AU, but either way, that Jane has the body of a child would probably complicate things in that aspect.

Would Bella be exploring cross orientation here, or having a crisis for her finding a sex drive for someone who's body is closer to a childs then an adults?

Both would be complex issues.

-It does!First she takes him out with mental fire, then she fights and tears him up, in hopes of impressing her would (will) be mate!

E -Crisis at the sex drive, cause again kids body, and I'd be hella creeped out. And orientation since I haven't seen her show much interest in woman so that's a lot of issues for her to start on

"And here we see the alpha female show her dominance by obliterating the high male in order to impress her mate"

K - Its kind of weird to even talk about it, yes.

But it would come up in this context

Bella herself, would probably be creeped out

Jane, might be less so, due to being centuries older than her, and living in a different time with different marriage standards

E - Bella is like "oh honey no, that's. ..no"

K -Jane was born in England around 800 A.D, the daughter of an Anglo-Saxon woman and a Frankish soldier.

She was 12-13 when transformed.

Let's bump it up to 13, because while both are far too young for being burned at the stake, 13 is slightly more

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Was reading this

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"Contrary to Victorian beliefs that pale, delicate women were the most attractive, Brown says that actually, muscles are key. It's the earliest known example of #fitspiration:

"All women would be healthier and none the less beautiful if they possessed firm muscles and strong limbs; this scarcely any one could controvert."

Even if she wants to consign herself to a life of singledom: "And if a girl never intends to marry she should be none the less mindful of her health."

Brown explains that women are often less inclined to discuss sensitive maladies than their male counterparts. But that's wrong.

"Young women should learn that to neglect disease is to create more," he stresses.

"Secondly, they should appreciate the fact that, though they may get very little sympathy from either the other sex or their own, there is no execuse for not taking their complaint boldly and sensibly to that quarter made for them, namely, their doctor."

---

And this guy sounds kind of radical for the time, and possibly today even, for some, but why does that last line still feel relevant to today's attitude of women's health.

#Twilight #crack shipping #Random K #A conversation with my friend #we share ideas #and worldbuild #bella x jane

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shireness-says · 5 years

Text

If I Could See Your Face Once More (2/6)

Summary: This time, there’s no celebration at Granny’s when the latest crisis has been resolved. Instead, they’re left to deal with the body of Killian Jones. A 5B canon divergence where Killian dies in Camelot, never becoming a Dark One. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. ~3.9K. Chapter 1

A/N: And here’s my second @csmarchmadness contribution! Thanks again to @xemmaloveskillianx for organizing the event, as well as @snidgetsafan for her excellent beta services (and generally being an awesome person).

On top of that, an extra thanks to all of you who read the first part! The fantastic response to this absolutely warms my heart. The next chapter of this will be posted on the 24th, and then after that we’ll get a bit more loosey-goosey. I’m almost done writing this thing, guys - just need to get through half of two chapters!

Tagging: @thejollyroger-writer, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @ultraluckycatnd, @superchocovian, @snowbellewells, @killianjones4ever82, @wellhellotragic. Shoot me a message if you want to be added to the list!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

“I’m about sixteen weeks along,” she tells him, sitting next to him on the master bed, staring at the comforter. He had barely allowed her to clean off the rest of the blood and wrestle him into clean clothes before dragging her down next to him. Bandages and stitches and ice packs can wait. “Second trimester, though barely, but chance of miscarriage goes down substantially so we don’t have to worry about that.”

She’s making it all sound so clinical, like she’s trying not to force him to form emotions about the situation. But… bloody hell, Emma’s expecting. A child. His child. He knows she’s used to people not sticking around, but it’s impossible for him not to fall in love with the little one, now that he knows they exist. It’s hard to put that into words though, so he just slips his arm around her waist and pull her closer into him. “How long have you known?” he asks quietly.

“About two months.” She pauses. “Regina and I found a spell that we thought would send the Camelot folks back – didn’t work, by the way, they’re still hanging around and causing trouble – and I know I wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep but I guess I must not have eaten that day either because I passed out. I can’t really use my magic right now, it turns out, at least not in large doses, or it’ll completely exhaust me; my magic is all tied up with the baby right now, or… something. I don’t fully understand it. Anyway, Regina brought me back around, but insisted I go get checked out at the hospital. They ran some tests, and that’s how I found out about the bean.”

He grins, even if it aggravates his black eye. “The bean?”

She blushes. “Uh… yeah. Well, I felt kinda bad thinking about the kiddo as an it, and ‘little bean’ kinda stuck.”

“Well I think it’s very cute.” Suddenly, the other part of that story sinks in. “So Regina knows?”

Emma nods.

“Who else?”

“Just Regina. I needed a bit of time to come around to the idea, but by the time I was ready to start telling people, Henry was deep into his research and determined to get you back, and I just thought… if I was going to start telling people, if at all possible, I wanted the next person to be you. Thankfully, Henry had found a way down here by the time I started showing, so it’s just been a lot of oversized sweaters for the last two weeks. At least it’s January in Maine, so it doesn’t really look unusual.”

“Are you doing ok? Feeling alright?”

“Yeah, the morning sickness has mostly gone away, though it wasn’t as bad as with Henry. Cravings are starting to kick in. Emotions are all over the place, which has been… fun.”

He smirks into her hair as he presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Thought I saw you tearing up back there, in the cavern.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles back.

“And the little one – the bean’s alright?”

She smiles back at him and pulls his hand over to her stomach and its barely-there bump. “Yeah. The bean’s great. Good strong heartbeat. Can’t feel movement yet, but I should be able to in another few weeks. I’ve got the sonogram picture in my phone, I’ll show it to you later if I find where I set it down.”

After the day he’s had (hell, the weeks and months he’s had), the life-changing information he’s been given, it’s his turn to tear up as he pulls Emma down with him to lay across the bed. “Thank you”, he barely manages to whisper – whether for saving him, for coming for him in the first place, or for this miraculous and unexpected gift, he can’t honestly say, but Emma seems to understand anyways. She nods into his shoulder and snuggles in as close as she can manage with his injuries as they both doze off.

And Killian Jones finds the best sleep he’s ever had in the Victorian house that has never quite been a home until this night.

------

They attempt to tell Emma’s – their family the next morning, but as it turns out, no one is really surprised. Snow had apparently put the pieces together several weeks ago, and true to form, couldn’t resist telling apparently everyone who would listen. Frankly, Killian is shocked that Emma hadn’t realized everyone knew sooner – the town of Storybrooke isn’t known for its subtlety.

(She does grumble out an “I guess that’s why Granny’s been trying to force vegetables down my throat”, much to his amusement.)

Snow is thrilled, Henry excited, and Dave seemingly stuck at something resembling the denial stage of grief (“Oh, he’ll come around,” Snow tries to reassure Killian. “He just doesn’t want to accept that you and Emma… you know.”). In the end, it seems like Liam is the only one caught off guard.

And boy, is he ever off guard.

Killian couldn’t help but notice a weird tension between Emma and his brother when they initially retrieved him, but he originally wrote it off as Liam feeling uncomfortable with finding his place in the strange new family his little brother had collected. That doesn’t seem to be the case though; he damn near sweeps Belle and the lady Snow off their feet with elaborate bows and kisses over their hands, is getting along with Dave just as well as Killian always feared (no, that funny feeling is not jealousy, thank you very much), and seems tickled pink that Henry calls him “Uncle Liam”.

But Emma…

Well, it becomes painfully, capital letter obvious that Liam Jones, beloved brother and friend to all, Does Not Like Emma Swan.

After several uncomfortable days of Emma trying to avoid Liam at all costs, Liam ignoring Swan whenever possible, and Regina developing a habit of viciously glaring at the elder Jones whenever he tries to act friendly towards the former Evil Queen, it all comes to a head when Killian enters the office of his house where both Emma and his brother have found themselves holed up just to find Emma leaving, nearly in tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he stops her. “What’s the matter?”

She tries to smile, even if she looks like she might fall apart at any moment. “Nothing to worry about. Just… upset that we haven’t found a way out of here yet.”

Now, Killian may not have his Swan’s lie detector, but she’s enough of an open book that he can see she’s not telling him everything. “Are you sure?”

She nods. “Yep. Perfectly fine. I’ll be upstairs.” And if her brisk tone wasn’t already enough of a red flag, she practically flees the room like some kind of hellhound is chasing her.

He immediately turns back to Liam, who’s been watching the entire exchange with a look Killian doesn’t want to place. “What have you done?”

Liam sputters and tries to deflect. “Excuse me? Why would you assume I had anything to do with that little display?”

“Well, when the mother of my child comes out of this room after having spent time with you, about to cry, I tend to put two and two together. So what happened?”

“Sure it isn’t just hormones? Pregnant women cry a lot, as I understand.” “Not this one, not where others can see. I’m only going to ask one more time – what the hell did you do?”

Liam sighs, and Killian already knows he isn’t going to like whatever his brother has to say. “Well, Miss Swan asked why I didn’t like her. I simply answered her question.”

“Stop beating around the bush, Liam, what did you tell her to leave her so upset?”

Liam at least has the decency to act hesitant to respond. “I simply told her it wasn’t a personal dislike, she just wasn’t nearly good enough for you. And I struggled to see how she had tricked not only yourself, but your friends into thinking so.”

Killian loves his brother, but were it anyone else saying those vile words, he’d sock them in the face. “Why the hell would you say that?” he shoots back, starting to raise his voice.

“Oh, please, Killy, I’ve been watching the Captain’s log - not to mention, you told me the story yourself. She’s left you for dead to be eaten by a giant, imprisoned you enough times I lost count, seems to have been incredibly cold to you even after you started courting her. Must I justify this?”

“Must I remind you where I was before her? I was living for some twisted idea of vengeance! I was ready to die for that! And she saved me!”

“I have trouble believing you were that bad in the first place, but even if you were, she’s not the saint you seem to think she is. Or have you forgotten she’s a thief?”

“Was a thief. And what of all the things we had to do to survive, Liam, the snatches of food we’d swipe to not starve to death? She’s been abandoned, Liam, never had anyone, had to bite and scratch her way through life and do whatever she had to in order to survive.”

“But some of that was by choice, wasn’t it? How do you even know she won’t give up this child too? Henry filled me in about how she let him go, some nonsense about ‘best chances’. How can you be with a woman who abandoned her son, after what Father did to us?”

That’s the final straw, really. Killian knows his voice is raised far higher that it should be, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Oh, so you heard that whole story then? About how she was in jail because the man she loved set her up for his crime – oh, and that’s not just me saying that, the bastard admitted to it - told me himself. Now, Emma likes to tell people she was eighteen when she had the lad, but I can tell you, when we celebrated her 31st birthday a few months ago, Henry had already been 13 for several weeks. So she was only 17 bloody years old, in jail, chained to a hospital bed in case she tried to stage some wild escape in the middle of labor, I suppose. Hadn’t finished her education, so no chance of securing employment upon her release. No family to take the babe. Never had anyone to selflessly love her, let alone any parents, so didn’t even know where to start with being a mother. But yes, I can see where you might think it was a crock of shit that she gave him up for adoption so he might have his best chance, or at least a damn better chance than she got.”

That outburst, at least, seems to shut Liam up for the moment.

“Now, I’ve got an amazing woman with spectacular trust and abandonment and self-worth issues, who you just told wasn’t possibly good enough for me, waiting upstairs. I trust you can see yourself out.”

He can’t even find it within himself to wait and see if his brother leaves.

------

He finds Emma upstairs in the nursery, appropriately enough, with tears running down her face, and he knows immediately that she’s heard every word.

“I’m sorry I made you fight with your brother,” she whispers.

He shakes his head. “He’s being an arse. I should be the one apologizing to you, for not noticing earlier how he was treating you. And that you had to hear what was just said.”

She pauses, apparently fighting back tears. “I… I know I probably don’t deserve you and how much you love me, and if you decide you’d rather move on with Liam I’ll have to be okay with that, but… I spent three months without you, Killian. And I was miserable. I’d deal if I had to, but I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

Killian pulls her to him with those words, closer than he ever thought possible, to try and make his words have the greatest impact. “Oh love, I’ll never leave you again if I can possibly help it.”

(He only hopes that’s a promise he can finally keep.)

------

Regina decides the next day that he’s healed enough to attempt to split Emma’s heart. It warrants a lot of protesting on his part, worries not only about Emma’s safety but the bean’s too, but Emma’s sheer confidence that this will work finally wins him over. After all, when that means she believes them to be true love, who is he to argue?

So he lets Regina reach into Emma’s chest, all for him, only for her to be blasted back.

It’s not going to work.

------

Of course, it’s not simply a matter of them not being True Love – the verdict is still out on that – it’s something far worse. It’s, instead, a matter of Hades carving Emma’s and Regina’s and Snow’s names onto headstones, trapping them in the Underworld and getting his revenge for their steady work of sending souls to a better place (because of course this group of heroes has been up to their old redemptive tricks, even down here).

However, the Charmings have never been accused of being quitters, and a new plan is concocted quickly. Henry already has the pen in his possession, thanks to the machinations of the house; there’s no reason there shouldn’t be a storybook down here too, and if they can find it, perhaps Henry can use his author powers to write them a way out of the Underworld. Even Liam admits that the plan has merit, citing rumors circulating of a book with the power to defeat Hades, once and for all.

Killian can’t help but feel guilty about the whole thing. After all, none of them would be here, now cursed to remain so, if they hadn’t come to rescue him - hell, if he hadn’t gotten in the way of Arthur’s sword in the first place.

“This is all my fault,” he laments to Emma. “You should never have come after me. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Hey, none of that,” Emma tries to soothe. “You’re not the one responsible for our names. Hades did that. And we all came of our own choice, even Henry. Especially Henry. You know that. He threatened to find his own way here if we didn’t take him with us.”

“That doesn’t erase the fact that you’re here - that you, and Henry, and the baby, and all the rest of our family are in danger, all because you’re trying to save me. That doesn’t keep it from lying heavy on my conscience.”

“Would you do the same thing for us?”

Killian stares at her like she’s grown a second head. What kind of absurd question is that? “Would I — of course I would, Emma. In a heartbeat.”

“Okay, well, that’s exactly what we’re doing here.” Emma softens suddenly, reaching up to smooth a gentle hand along his cheek. “I know you think you’re the most expendable, Killian, but not to us. We’re here because we don’t want to experience life without you any longer, and at a certain point you’re going to have to loosen your grip on the wheel and accept it, Captain. None of this is your fault.”

The doubt and guilt still niggle at the back of Killian’s mind, but it’s so much more pleasant to embrace Emma’s words instead, so he gives into the temptation and drops a gentle kiss of silent thanks on her lips.

Apart from all that, Liam has been acting distant all day, and on a certain level, Killian understands. He and Liam were never the type of brothers to fight much, circumstances bringing them much closer than most. He’s uncomfortable too, through the sharp anger he still feels, and doesn’t relish being around Liam right now either. But when he joins the rest of the group at the sorcerer’s mansion after checking on the bar, Liam is acting even stranger. Killian can’t help but wonder what’s happened, or if his brother is just feeling guilty about the things he said about Emma, but there’s no time to address the issue right now. The mansion is positively filled with books, and each one must be checked to make sure it’s not what they’re looking for.

He gets truly suspicious when Liam, of all people, finds the book, only for Henry to discover that it’s missing crucial pages. As Liam excuses himself, supposedly to continue the search, Killian follows him, only to discover Liam tossing something that looks suspiciously like paper into a well.

Before Killian can even muster up an accusation, Liam turns around with an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry, Killian, but I promise this is necessary.”

And then everything goes black.

------

He comes to, propped against the stone wall of a cave, with Liam watching over him. Killian forces himself back to his feet as soon as he’s fully awake, determined to find a way out.

“What the hell Liam? What did you do with the pages, and what the hell are we doing here?”

“I had to, Killian!” Liam protests. “It was the only way.”

“The only way for what?”

The look on Liam’s face now is undeniably panic, as he starts pacing back and forth.

“I made a deal with Hades.”

“You did what?”

“It was the only way, Killian! He’s locking things down here, not letting anyone move on. If I got rid of the pages, he’d let us move on, no opposition.”

If Killian was angry before, he’s furious now. “I don’t want to go, Liam! I thought I made that clear, did it not sink into that thick skull?”

“Killian, please, this is for the best. I’m just looking out for you.”

He loves Liam, but it’s like centuries of frustration boil over in a moment. “You’re always telling me what’s best for me, Liam, don’t I get a say in my own life? I managed nearly three hundred years without you, and you still don’t trust me to make my own decisions. You’ve never really trusted me though, have you? I’m sure I gave you reasons not to over the years, with the drinking and the gambling and generally being the younger brother, but Gods, Liam, it still hurts that you trusted your bloody monarch over your own brother, and died because of it. I am begging you – believe me, just this once, when I say that I know what is best for me. Even if their wild plans don’t succeed, I will do anything to spend longer with Emma and Henry and my child. And that’s what’s best for me right now.”

It hurts, walking away from his brother in a rage for the second time in as many days. Killian only hopes Liam doesn’t choose this moment to cross over, leaving him in anger and without any resolution. But on this matter, Killian has to draw a line in the sand. It’s time he stops viewing Liam as a god-like figure who can do no wrong, stop letting Liam control his life and his shadow guilt Killian even from beyond the grave.

He’s got a family to get back to.

------

When he finds Emma again, back at their house, she’s in a full-scale panic that Hades had imprisoned him again, or worse, that he had left for the Great Beyond without saying goodbye. Killian can feel her physically relax as he gathers her in his arms, planting a kiss on her forehead and murmuring “I’m not going anywhere, love.”

Liam slinks back some hours later, apologies on his lips, as if that will make it all better. Unfortunately for him, Killian’s not yet ready to talk, to forgive. That will come later; he still loves his brother unconditionally, but it’s stopped being a blind love, one in which he refuses to see any flaws, and has turned into something more painful, if ultimately more healthy: seeing his brother as a human being that makes mistakes, rather than some god on a pedestal.

Liam is less understanding about the matter, resulting in something of a spat between the two brothers, the elder Jones seemingly not understanding that this issue isn’t something to be glossed over and easily resolved.

“I already apologized, Killian,” he snaps. “What more do you want from me?”

“I don’t know,” Killian replies quietly, calmly, coldly. “But right now, I just want you to leave.”

It’s easily the harshest fight they’ve ever had, and Liam leaves without another word, stalking to the front door and all but slamming it. Killian isn’t comfortable with the way they’re leaving things, per se, but he’s not ready to just let bygones be bygones either, so this is perhaps the best he can hope for.

Killian may have displayed his anger earlier, but it’s later that night, in bed with Emma, that he finally lets the sorrow and disappointment reign.

“I don’t understand,” he laments, head resting just below her breasts. “How could he do that? How could he even think it?

“I don’t know, babe,” Emma soothes as best she can. Her hand slips through his hair, scratching along his scalp and calming Killian more than her words do.

“He was always my hero, you know?” He says. “Liam always knew best, was always so sure of himself, always in charge, and I accepted that. He’s my brother. But gods, it’s been almost three hundred years. I’ve learned what’s best for me, how to make my own decisions. I’ve been grateful to have this extra time with him, but… Gods above, how could he think that abandoning any hope of resurrection, abandoning you and Henry and the babe, could be what was best for me? What happened to him?”

“He’s been down here a really long time. Who knows what that can do to a person. But maybe,” she suggests gently, “maybe you’ve just grown up. So to speak. I know Liam is your hero, but he’s also just a man. Which usually means he’s not as perfect as you remember. Maybe… maybe after everything you’ve been through since you last saw him , you’ve both changed. Now it’s easier to see him without the haze. Rose colored glasses? Is that the term?”

Killian manages a watery chuckle against her stomach before stretching up to drop a kiss on the underside of Emma’s jaw. “Aye, that’s the term. You’re probably right,” he admits as he curls back around her side, stretching his arm across her abdomen where their little one grows.

“I’m sorry you had to take them off,” Emma whispers into the darkness.

Killian swallows heavily, forcing the fresh emotion back down. “So am I.”

He’s still here, Killian reminds himself as he holds Emma closer within his arms. Despite it all, he’s still here, and he has no intention of letting go.

#cs march madness #captain swan #cs ff #cs canon divergence #cs angst #my writing #If I Could See Your Face Once More #Chapter 2 #oh look its more angst

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fullmetalscullyy · 5 years

Text

hit and run - chapter 4

summary: Riza Hawkeye is a thief who is trying to get by in Victorian Central. Hard times fell on her family, tuberculosis claiming her mother and then her father when she was barely a teenager. Now, femme fatale Riza steals to put food on the table for herself, her canine companion - an abandoned puppy who just won’t leave her alone - and two brothers with circumstances similar to her own. However, dipping her hands into the pockets of the rich and famous is always a dangerous game.

rated: m | words: 3258

title: “hit and run” by lolo

read on ao3 and ffnet

It was time to pull in one of her favours.

Although she didn’t want to get Edward and Alphonse involved, they could move through the city more easily than her. No one paid any attention to two teenagers, but a woman armed with knives and dressed all in black? That turned a few heads.

She sent them both to the inner-city to call on two old friends of hers. Rebecca Catalina was always willing to help her with a job – Riza had given her some training to defend herself after she’d nursed Riza back to health and the woman had a knack for it. She’d found a new calling in life and turned a thief herself. “For the thrill of it”, she always used to say. Another was a woman called Gracia. She was unassuming and quiet but could rob a man blind before he knew what was even happening. Her friendly demeanour tricked them into a false sense of security but Riza knew she could be as deadly as her. She’d witnessed it herself.

Riza had met Gracia during a lift. The man had gotten too handsy with Riza and while she could handle the situation herself – her knife was already out of its sheath, on its way towards his throat – Gracia slipped in with a hand on his arm, giggling and blushing innocently to draw his attention away from Riza. As their eyes had met, Gracia’s gaze had flicked towards the intoxicated man’s waist where Riza’s objective lay. A beautiful gold pocket watch that would feed her and the boys for a whole week. She’d motioned for Riza to rob him while she kept him distracted. And so, she did. Ten minutes later, Gracia tracked her down heading west out of the inner-city, they struck a friendship immediately, and the rest was history.

The three of them had become fast friends and were an unstoppable force when they worked together.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen either of them in over a year. Gracia moved west to Creta for a while to lay low after a messy, but successful, job. Rebecca was in East City for six months, but all methods they used to contact each other ceased and Riza had no way of knowing where she was. She’d been saddened at first, hoping her friend was all right and not in too much trouble, but that was the nature of this life. One day a friend could turn up dead with no reason or explanation as to why. It was a terrifying thought, especially for Riza who’d never had very many friends in her life, even as a child. But it was reality.

Riza waited in their designated rendezvous point – a rooftop three streets over from the crumbling bank and her home. It had been two days since she’d sent out the messages to her friends and Riza silently hoped that they would show up. She needed a friend right now. The boys worried about her and were concerned, but they gave her space. They didn’t understand her burden either and it had always been difficult for Riza to articulate her feelings.

There was the overwhelming feeling that time was running out for her as well. Riza had spent two nights in The Vaults already but Kimblee never showed. She would be on her way there after this meeting. The barman told Riza when Kimblee would be arriving to collect the earnings of the black market and the inn, and it was tonight after midnight. That gave Riza three hours to try and work something out with her comrades for when she decided to storm his home.

Not only that, she’d told Mustang the Madame could give her a week to get this document. She’d already wasted two days waiting for Kimblee. She had five left and Riza was beginning to doubt the timeframe she’d given herself. Every job was a case of being in and out as fast as possible, but this all relied on someone else’s schedule. Perhaps a week had been too ambitious.

Five days left until she was probably killed.

So, couple all of that with the never-ending feeling of despair and the fear that she could be killed by anyone at any moment, Riza would say she was doing just swell.

On the plus side she hadn’t seen Mustang since that night she’d exploded at him. There had been no word from Madame Christmas either, which she didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Another worry to add to her list. She was one shy of a mental breakdown at this point.

She mentally lifted her head to the sky to silently ask God or whoever was up there if they wanted to add one last one just to tip her over the edge and finish the job. This existential terror that clung to her mind for every minute of every day was beginning to get old.

A whistle sounded from her left and Riza froze, feeling relief wash over her in an instant. She answered the call with her own whistle and two seconds later Rebecca Catalina was striding towards her with a large grin.

“Riza,” she greeted warmly, pulling her into a fierce hug. Riza clutched at her friend tightly, overwhelmed with how glad she was to see her in person. “It’s good to see you again. I missed you! How have you been?”

“I missed you too Becca. You know, just the usual.”

“Hungry and poor?”

Riza nodded. “Yep.”

“I hear you. Is Gracia coming too?”

Riza nodded. “I hope she’ll be here. I heard no response.”

Rebecca turned and looked out across the city, watching for their friends’ approach across the rooftops. “She’ll be here. She’s never let us down before.”

“No, she definitely hasn’t. So, is there anything new with you?” Riza asked just so she could have the chance at a brief but normal conversation for once.

Rebecca shot her a look and Riza’s smile dropped from her face. “I got a job.”

“Why do I get the feeling I won’t like this job?”

Rebecca shook her head. “It’s not that. Riza… I work for Madame Christmas now.”

Riza paled. “Oh.” So much for a normal conversation.

“Yeah. So, I’ve heard things. Are you okay?”

Seeing the concern on her face and the worry in her eyes, Riza almost broke down there and then. “What have you heard?” she forced past the lump in her throat.

“That you’re tied in with a particularly shady deal that I don’t like the sound of. Even her employees don’t like it, going after a man like Kimblee. Why did you take it?” There was no accusation, she was merely curious.

“I had no choice.”

“You always have a choice, Riza,” her friend replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Riza shook her head, sitting on the ledge, legs swinging in the air over the edge of the roof. “Not this time I’m afraid.”

“Yes, you do,” Rebecca urged, joining her. When she didn’t reply Rebecca slung an arm around her shoulders, hugging Riza against her side. “Oh, Riza,” she sighed, concerned for her friend. Riza wanted to tell her how she was feeling, she wanted to let loose this maelstrom of emotion inside her, but it just wouldn’t come out. She didn’t know how to put it into the right words. “I haven’t heard much. There’s a whole hierarchy within her organisation and I’m not privy to it all. All I could decipher was there was a new recruit – dubbed Miss Riza – and that you would be retrieving the intel Mustang failed to the night of the ball.”

That made Riza smile, the mention of Mustang’s failing. Not maliciously, but a reminder in nostalgia. She remembered thinking him useless when it was a simpler time. The smile dropped from her face as her reality settled in once more.

“I heard you called him the “easiest target in the room”,” Rebecca murmured, giving Riza’s shoulder a squeeze. She could hear the grin in her tone. “In front of the Madame, no less. I was proud of you.”

Riza barked a humourless laugh. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.” Her shoulder was squeezed again before the arm dropped from around her shoulders. “Here comes Gracia.”

“Please, don’t bring it up in front of her.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Keeping secrets, are we?”

Riza sighed heavily, bringing her hands to her face, bending to rest her elbows on her knees. The weight of this whole situation felt like it was pressing down on her shoulders.

“Hey, I was just kidding,” Rebecca added gently, giving Riza’s hand a squeeze, removing her hands from covering her face. Riza lifted her gaze, seeing a kind smile on her oldest friend’s face. “Take all the time you need. It’s not my business to say. However, if you ever need me, you know where my loyalties lie.”

Riza felt like bursting into tears. “Thank you,” she whispered, afraid that if she spoke any louder, she would shatter.

“Don’t mention it.”

Taking a deep breath, steadying her emotions and her mental state, Riza stood and greeted Gracia. After the initial greetings, Gracia looked expectantly at them both.

“So, what do you need, Riza?”

* * *

Riza smoothed down the front of her clothes as she readied herself to go out front and begin serving. Kimblee was out there right now. Mr. Marco confirmed it. The man with the long black hair tied back into a ponytail. His suit was a crisp white, a stark contrast against anything in these vaults. A clear line to establish his status compared to the others in here.

He’d ordered an ale and Riza was tasked with bringing it to him. All she needed to do was go out there and serve the drink, say her piece, then get out. That was it.

Then why did it feel like her legs were made of lead?

She didn’t want to go out there. She wanted to stay in this quiet back room of the inn where the noise and smell from outside only just made it through the door. It gave her a semblance of calm, gave Riza the ability to pretend that inside her emotions weren’t roiling, leaving an uncomfortable weight in her stomach.

Her hand was sweating, sliding off the handle of the door as she turned it to exit her peace and into the hellhole that was The Vaults.

Instantly she spied Kimblee. Gathering her courage and thinking “fuck it. Now or never, Riza”, she placed the ale on the serving plate and sauntered over to his table, swaying her hips a ridiculous amount in the hopes she would get his attention.

God, men were so easy to work with.

Within seconds Kimblee caught her eye, abruptly ending his conversation with the man beside him. Riza felt her stomach flip and bile rise in her throat at the sight of the sleazy smile on his face as their eyes met. Of course, her own smile never faded. She batted her eyelashes unabashedly, offering him a shy smile. His grin widened and he lazily turned to face his companion again, continuing their conversation.

“Your drink, sir,” she stated breathlessly, making sure she leaned far over the table and brushed against Kimblee purposefully. Great, now she wanted to bathe for a week after his skin brushed hers – all initiated by Kimblee, she might add.

What a sleaze ball.

“Thank you,” he stated, sharp blue eyes piercing through her very being.

It made her skin crawl. Big time. Like it just crawled off her very bones and was now shivering in the corner of the inn where a man was rocking backwards and forwards, eyes wide and fearful.

The feeling was mutual.

She forced her eyes to linger on him for longer than was necessary before turning and walking back to the bar, hair swaying in its ponytail as she walked. It was ridiculous, it was the performance of a lifetime – quite literally – but Riza Hawkeye was a professional and she would do what she did best – get the job done.

Now, she just had to continue to serve the group until he left. Apparently, Kimblee seemed very interested in her – Riza managed to keep a hold on her urge to vomit, but only just – which meant he stayed later than usual.

Fucking excellent. There was only so many times she could giggle and bat her eyelashes at the man. No, not a man. A snake. She decided that around the first hour mark. Now, at hour four, his group was intoxicated and loud, disrupting the usual patrons. They jostled everyone around, roughly moving men and women – especially the woman Riza noticed with a shudder – around the room to their pleasure. Riza was secretly pleased with one thing though. The usual men who thought they ran the place were quiet and meekly moved out of Kimblee’s way when he commanded it, doing his bidding like a lapdog. That was the only satisfying thing about this evening.

“How would you like to come back to my place?” Kimblee whispered in her ear as he was leaving, drunkenly snatching her elbow. “We could use a waitress for the rest of our little party,” he added in what she thought was supposed to be a murmur, but it was loud and slurred, making her cringe at the volume. His words sent a chill down her spine, but not for the reason Kimblee hoped.

She never slept with her targets, especially not the sleazy kind like Kimblee. Fuck no. She just made them think she was then when they were so inebriated, they passed out on the bed, she completed the lift and was on her way. Even then, that only occurred at masquerades. It wouldn’t do for the man to remember her face and notice her on the street.

“Not tonight, honey,” she cooed, giggling once more. Resisting the urge to shake off the hand on her elbow. “I’ve got the rest of my shift to finish.”

“I’m sure old Lyle will allow you to finish early. Hey, Lyle!” he shouted the very short distance to the barman who jumped at the volume in the quiet room. It was late, most were sleeping now. “You’ll let this pretty little thing go early, won’t you?” He swayed on his feet and Riza thought this might not entirely be a bust if she did go with him. After all, this was all part of her usual MO. Get them drunk then rob them blind.

Still, Riza widened her eyes a fraction, involuntarily begging the man to say no.

“Sure, Mr. Kimblee,” he replied weakly, looking at her helplessly. Of course, if he refused Kimblee, it might get messy. The lead weight in Riza’s stomach just grew heavier.

Thanks for looking out for me, Lyle. At least Riza knew where his loyalties lay, with the Madame, despite technically being Riza’s boss.

It was only then that the feeling of being truly alone in all of this dawned on her. She doubted anyone from Madame Christmas’ end would help her even if she asked, not after the Madame’s little speech when they first met. But still, she was doing the woman a favour. A little support would have been nice.

“Come on,” he urged, jerking her elbow roughly.

“Wait –”

“Let’s go.”

She yanked her elbow out of his hand roughly, putting him off balance. He turned, fury clear in his eyes, but Riza just smiled shyly at him, laughing airily. “Sorry! I lost my footing. Clumsy me!” she tittered, sweat forming on her forehead as she hoped, prayed, that he bought her lie. “I need to get my bag first, honey,” she explained, blurting out the first thing that came to her mind. “Wait for me outside?” The wide eyed and earnest look seemed to appeal to him, because he grunted, but smirked like a snake again.

“Of course,” he purred. “Be quick.”

Riza smiled brightly. “Of course, sir.”

Once inside the backroom she gathered her belonging in a haste, before Mr. Marco could even turn in his chair, interested in what all the commotion was about.

“Where are you going?” Mr. Marco asked hesitantly. His hands reached for something inside his jacket but Riza was already at the door before he could remove whatever he had concealed. Riza’s guess? It was something to subdue her and hand her over to Kimblee or to Madame Christmas. Either way, she was fucked.

“Taking your advice,” she barked, peeking out the cracked open door. Kimblee’s men had all left, leaving half asleep, uneasy men and women in their wake.

“What?” he squeaked. “You can’t –”

“I can,” she snapped, slipping out and closing that door behind her. Without another word she hopped onto the ladder that led up to the store tunnel. Weaving through barrels and crates, Riza popped open the wrought iron gate and slipped inside the storm drain. It was dark, full of twists and turns, but it led to the outside where she would be free. That was all she needed.

Riza and the boys had to move. Tonight. She would deal with Madame Christmas another time, but she needed to put as much distance between her and Kimblee. The memory of his skin on hers made her shudder.

Fresh air had never smelt so good. Riza gulped it down as she hauled herself out the drain and onto the bridge above The Vaults. There was no one around. The road was empty of horse and carriages and there was no foot traffic whatsoever.

Finally feeling able to breathe, Riza took a moment to compose herself – reminiscent of the first time she’d left The Vaults in recent memory with a Mustang in tow. She bent at the waist, back hunched as she rested her hands on her knees. Head bowed, Riza finally managed to subdue the terror and panic.

This is too much. I need out of this deal. I need away –

She didn’t get a chance to finish her thought.

“Miss Riza?” she heard Mustang ask quietly, voice subdued.

Her gaze snapped up, seeing concern in his gaze. Why, she didn’t know. Gone was the hostility she usually associated with him. His expression was open and expectant, waiting on her answer. It was sympathetic and it gave her pause for some unknown reason.

A sound echoed in the quiet night behind her. Riza was half turning, acting on instinct before she could think, but the distraction of Mustang cost her. Arms circled around her own, pinning her, leaving her defenceless.

Kimblee’s men. The thought flashed in her mind, giving reason for the panic to take the bait and incapacitate her further as she began to struggle. That overwhelming feeling of running out of time came rushing back. This time, the counter was dangerously close to zero.

Finally managing to twist in her attacker’s grip, Riza came face to face with the same woman who’d knocked her out while tailing Mustang back to his home. Not Kimblee then. But why –?

Had he fucking set her up?

“Vanessa?” Mustang hissed, clearly unhappy. Again, why? “What –?”

“Hello again, Miss Riza.” There was no crooning this time. Her face was hard and unimpressed. Her voice was cold to match. She lifted something blunt from behind her.

“Oh, for the love of –” It struck her head – hard – and Riza blacked out.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #emma writes #hit and run

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wordstrings · 5 years

Text

Of Maintenance Part 2: Physical Therapy

Written and submitted by @ask-flip-frost; a sequel to Of Maintenance. (Publisher’s notes can be found at the end of the work.) Words: 4,300

Things were changing. Whether they were more spooky or less spooky with the developing knowledge was difficult to say, though. Several everyday phenomena which Sam and Dean had taken to be the result of Castiel’s telekinetic abilities had been debunked as something far more simple. In the week since his medicinal bath, the grace-touch Cas had granted to the Winchester’s eyes had not faded out. His wings were still visible to them. As such, they began to notice all manner of peculiar things.

For starters, Castiel was not nearly as statuesque as they’d always perceived him to be. Even if the rest of his body seemed to be standing perfectly still, his wings gave away that he was, in fact, constantly fidgeting. Often it was only a gentle twitch or sway, but other times it would be the sort of swift flap one might see from a bird debating its position on a branch as the angel settled onto the living area’s couch. The first time that happened had scared the hell out of Dean and he’d fallen onto the floor with a loud curse. Out of courtesy, the brothers would give a wider berth now to accommodate the limbs, though the wings would always shift themselves to or fro as needed regardless as they always had ‘behind the scenes’.

“I am beginning to understand why Humans are uncomfortable with long stares.” Castiel commented as he picked a lore book from a high shelf in a pincer motion with the alula of either wing.

Dean started in place. He hadn’t realized that he’d been staring again. He grunted quietly and went back to fake-reading for a case. Well, ‘case’ in the sense that it wasn’t really their sort of thing, but they were bored out of their minds. Idle hands being tools of the devil, he could definitely understand how so many bad decisions came in moments where a person was left with nothing to drown out melancholy thoughts. Might as well research old serial killers and have debates on whether or not they were supernaturally inclined.

“I always thought you did that with your brain, I dunno. Some floaty angel shit.” Dean shrugged, dropping both the pretense and his book “Still getting used to it.”

“I use my brain to move my wings.” Castiel rolled his eyes, thumbing through his volume. “I could lift something by altering the molecular structure of the air around it, but it seems like wasted effort.”

With Cas’ attention divided by reading, the elder Winchester felt as if he could chance another appraising look at the wings. This time, he was moreso checking on their healing progress. Any time he’d gotten close enough to attempt to give them a once-over, they’d folded up protectively against the angel’s back. The skin certainly seemed healthier. Feathers were coming in nicely. A marked rise in Castiel’s mood might have been linked to their recovery.

“Dean.” Cas admonished.

“What?”

Cas turned to face him straight on, irritated as fully as a woman who didn’t want someone ogling her legs. He closed the distance and waited until Dean met his eyes. It took more than a few seconds.

“Alright, I get it, I get it. I wouldn’t have to be so damn sneaky about it if you’d let us actually check them. We said we wanted to help, and you promised you’d let us.” Dean fussed. “It’s been a week, and all you’re doing is just… misting them like house plants with that oil stuff. I wanted to make sure they’re getting better. Sue me.”

“…Oh,”

“Whaddaya mean oh?”

All this time, Castiel had felt that he was being viewed as somewhat of a side-show. The extra space given, the hidden peeks, and the badgering about keeping up on moisturizing the damaged skin had been giving him mixed signals on whether or not he was being treated as… well, he wasn’t sure. But he didn’t like it. He dropped his eyes, embarrassed.

“I misunderstood the reason for your leering.” Cas admitted quietly.

“Leering? Who’s leering?” Dean demanded, slapping the table to get full attention when Cas glanced away. “No, you look at me. If you think for a minute that we’re just gawking for the sake of seeing something weird, then you really need to get your head out of your ass, Cas. We stare because we care.”

That didn’t sound creepy. Ah, shit, he’d rhymed as well.

Castiel gave a begrudged nod. While he didn’t particularly care for being scolded like a child, he would be remiss to ignore the small flutter of importance that had bloomed in his chest from it. Something he’d perceived to be bordering on hateful was actually just the Winchesters’ way of looking after him without being obvious about it.

Feeling that his point had been made, Dean pushed up from the table and pointed an accusing finger as he backed out of the library.

“Alright. I’m going to pick Sammy up and grab some grub. When I get back, you’re getting a full check-up. No buts.”

If Castiel had been properly miffed, it would have been as easy as leaving before Dean returned to avoid further possibility of ridicule. But he stayed. Heaven help him, he stayed.

–

When the door to the bunker swung open by way of an aggressive hip, Castiel looked up briefly from his book and gave both Winchesters an expression of acknowledgement. Sam had been out all day, but where he had no idea. Both Sam and Dean had their arms full of takeout and grocery bags, though it seemed unlikely that the younger brother had been shopping for the last seven hours.

Behind Cas, there was some sort of structured movement going on. It reminded Sam of some upper body calisthenics demonstrated in a documentary about Victorian housewives he’d watched in college; the kind of exercise that only worked a set group of muscles, as was appropriate for ladies at the time. Not that he’d say that out loud. It looked a bit silly, though.

“The hell are you doing?” Dean asked bluntly.

“Stretching.” Cas didn’t look up a second time.

“Are you sore?” Sam prompted.

“No more than usual.” the angel replied with a sigh.

“How usual is usual?” Sam pressed on.

Castiel closed his book and deposited it on a table.

“Your legs are long.” Cas stated, waiting for Sam to agree to this observation before continuing. “If you are in a car for a long period of time, they become cramped, correct? Imagine if you were over one thousand feet tall, and compressed to a vessel that does not even clear six feet. Sometimes it helps to stretch, if only a little.”

It was easy to forget how big Castiel was supposed to be in a natural state when he was forever looking up at them. They understood how dangerous it would be for the angel to leave the vessel empty for any amount of time, so taking a break somewhere to fully unleash himself was unlikely to work out well.

“Okay, well-“ Sam yanked Dean’s shirt to prevent him waltzing away from putting groceries up. “We’ve been thinking about that a little, actually. Dean’s been calling physical therapy clinics in the area to get advice on what we can do to make things better for you.”

“Sneaking.” Dean interjected.

“-And I went to the vet clinic to volunteer with a bird rehabilitation group today. So I think we’ll have a better idea on how to handle helping you along.” Sam continued. “Got a few things we can try, but we’ll see how it goes and kind of play it by ear.”

At a loss for words, Castiel blinked and looked from one brother to the other. His don’t bother worrying about me, I am not worth it train of thought was solidly arguing with his I am deeply humbled and thankful to be cared about train of thought.

“The therapists all told us to check range of motion and try to balance resistance exercises and stretches with massages to release tension in the muscles.” Dean explained, slapping Cas on the shoulder. “Who’s a lucky duck?”

Cas pulled a grumpled expression as Dean turned back to stack cans of sloppy joe sauce in the cabinet.

“I am not a duck.” he huffed.

“Ya might as well be. That’s all Sammy’s been practicing on all day.” Dean laughed. “You’ll be the first on his client list not to peck at him. Or maybe you will, I dunno. You were pretty twitchy last time we had hands on you, so~”

Eyes to the ceiling, Castiel asked his Father for whatever strength he needed not to stuff Dean into a garbage can. He was thankful that the teasing was not further pursued while the remaining groceries were sorted. The time was spent going over what each brother had learned in their separate endeavors. He learned that Sam had been followed by an entire flock of some forty-odd ducks when it was time for him to leave, and that Dean had been given love letters by three old women and one old man after a day of working in senior physical therapy earlier in the week. As a point of pride, he’d kept all of them like trophies.

“Here, these are for you.” Sam tugged a pack of jersey knit pajama pants out of the last bag and passed them over to Cas. “So you don’t have to borrow any. Go ahead and change. There’s a shirt, too, but we need it off for now so we can see what we’re doing.”

Castiel ran his hand over the plastic with a quiet thank you. It crinkled softly in his fingers. Technically speaking, he didn’t own a single article of clothing besides what was already on his person. Any that he’d worn during his period as a human had been discarded as a means to bury the memory of his many struggles. Those clothes had all been second-hand anyway, though. These were new, expressly for him. A touching gesture to say the least.

This time, he didn’t feel nearly as self-conscious changing out of his normal attire. For a long moment, he fiddled with the drawstrings of his trousers to ensure that they were perfectly fit before tying a messy knot. Something which looked only sort of like a bow, but it was good enough. Learning to tie his shoes during his humanity stint had been quite a journey, but a small child who’d wandered off from her mother in the mall had been kind enough to show him as best she could manage. The things you needed to know as an ‘adult’ were hardly ever clear until you were in the moment, he’d come to find.

When Cas returned, he saw that a table in the library had been fixed up with lots of folded blankets to create a padded surface. Not strictly necessary, but it was nice to see all the same. A groaning sigh dramatic enough to rival a Kansas twister whooshed from his lungs in pure disapproval as Dean sauntered in wearing a lab coat, carrying a clip board.

“What?” Dean scoffed. “Too much?”

“YEAH.” came the unison reply.

“Fine. Buncha killjoys.” Dean muttered, shrugging out of the coat and tossing it in a rumpled pile on a chair. “Up on the table, big guy. Stretch out the wings as far as they’ll go side to side. Don’t let them droop if you can help it. We need to see if any of your muscles have atrophied.”

One foot pressed to a chair, Castiel pushed up on the table and settled into a comfortable sitting position, legs dangled somewhat stiffly over the side. A few small pops worked in the joints as he slowly reached his wings out in a wide t-shape. He wasn’t all together sure if that was a problem in the vessel’s shoulders or in his actual wings. Later he would run a checklist of all of the organic components which didn’t strictly belong to him. Well. They did now, he supposed.

“Try making circles, then go up and down.” Sam frowned at the noise, flipping through a little field guide he’d been given that day. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Cas shook his head, complying with the request easily. “It’s a relief. Everything has felt a little-“

“Flabby?” Dean supplied brightly. “Since you haven’t been able to go out for a sky spin in forever?”

If looks could kill.

“…tight. I have been exercising them, but the stiffness remains.” Cas grumbled. “My wing muscles are not flabby.”

“Touched a nerve on that one.” Dean huffed under his breath, eyebrows jumped up.

Quick to diffuse, Sam cleared his throat.

“You need recovery days to let muscles rest. Even if you’ve never needed them before, you’ve also never really been in a vessel for this long, right? Celestial energy verses physically shrunk down has got to have differences in how your wings react to things, especially after trauma. You said it feels cramped and tight, so let’s work from there. I’ll apply pressure. Try to keep from lowering your wings.” Sam advised, taking up a position behind the brooding angel.

Slowly he pushed down, little by little adding more force. The wings didn’t move an inch. They were warm and solid. A far cry less ashy-looking than the last time he’d touched them as well. Resistance didn’t seem to be a problem. There was no tremble of fatigue, but the muscles were heavily bunched.

“Not flabby.” Sam confirmed, noting with amusement how Cas’ feathers puffed a little in pride.

“See?” Cas sniffed in a superior tone.

“Got it.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“It was easy.” Cas added.

“I got it.” Dean repeated.

“Like they were baby hands.”

“Got it, Cas. Not flabby.”

Sam looked down at his giant paws and mouthed baby hands before reaching into a small box on the table. He began carefully laying out a collection of wires and pads. When he caught Castiel looking curiously over his shoulder, he held up the box to show a picture. The edges of the cardboard were slightly dog-eared from age, but the contents had been kept in pristine condition.

“TENS unit,” Sam explained. “I do long distance runs, and sometimes when my muscles get overworked, this helps kill off the pain and kind of forces them to relax after you use it. It stimulates your nerves with electricity pulses.”

When he was met with a wary expression, Sam rolled up his own sleeve and stuck two of the leads to his forearm. He fiddled with the settings and clicked the machine to life. Small twitches in his muscles were apparent.

“See? It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt. It’s weird, but DeanDeanDeanDON’T- AH!”

Unable to help himself, Dean plucked up the unit and cranked the dial WAY up, chuckling deeply as Sam’s arm convulsed into weird positons.

“This thing is WILD, Cas. We used to play a drinking game with these where you try to balance a ping pong ball on a spoon while it’s buzzing you, and if you dropped it, you had to take a shot.” Dean smirked, shutting the machine off, to Sam’s relief. “So just so you’re prepared, if it jerks you around a little, it’s fine. Doesn’t hurt, there are just places it isn’t safe to go, like around your heart. If Sammy can take it, you can take it. If it gets too sore, let us know and we’ll shut it down. Sound good?”

Cas nodded, actually a little relieved at the show of absurdity. It made him feel less like a specimen. There were no further protests as Sam began attaching leads to the meatiest sections of his wings and one on each shoulder blade at the joint. Anywhere where the knots were especially tight. The stickiness of the pads felt strange, but not particularly uncomfortable.

“You good?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” the angel replied, bracing his hands on the edge of the table.

“I figure we’ll let this run for a little while, then we’ll massage out the rest of those tense spots manually. You can go for a soak after. It’ll be a good day.” Dean promised.

“I’ll go get some of the leftover oil.” Sam offered. “Unless you already got some lotion or something for today?”

Dean thought to the small bottle of Jergens in his room… in a box… with his questionable reading material. The only lotion he owned.

“Nope,” the older Winchester lied.

“Right. Uh. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

The last thing Dean wanted was to endure something overly floral for this very manly process, so he turned to follow at his brother’s heels to micromanage the scent choices.

“Dean-“ Castiel interrupted his departure. “I’m sorry.”

“…For what?” Dean squinted.

“Earlier today. I thought… I thought you were being condescending. I’m sorry for being upset.”

Dean’s face went a little slack with guilt. Cas shouldn’t have to apologize for feeling upset. He spent so much of his time self-loathing already. All members of Team Free Will had a certain lack of communication skills when it came to sensitive topics, and Dean wasn’t exactly the most emotionally mature person when his pride was stinging.

“Yeah, well. Forget it, okay? I wasn’t exactly being up front about stuff.” Dean shrugged, looking for immediate escape from a dissection of character. “Be right back. Stay put.”

Now, the wisest course of action would have been for Castiel to wait patiently for the brothers to return, but frankly, he wanted to know what he was in for so that he would be able to adjust his reactions accordingly. If he could anticipate the jolts, then perhaps he could work against them to avoid looking quite as ridiculous as Sam had. Blue eyes kept sliding from the TENS unit to the door and back again. The oils were kept in the recovery room with all of the tubs, so he’d have at least two or three minutes to himself. Sam and Dean were strollers if there wasn’t a need for hurry. Ever so slowly, he reached out and closed a hand over the little machine.

–

“What’s wrong with lavender?” Sam groaned.

“It stinks, Sam. Use the sandalwood.”

“THAT stinks!”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

After much grumbling, they finally decided on eucalyptus, if only because Cas had mentioned that he’d liked the scent previously. This was about him after all. Before starting back to the library, they begrudgingly claimed a truce to avoid making the angel any more uncomfortable with sibling bickering. That was when both brothers were startled by flickering lights.

“Cas.” Dean stated, breaking into a run.

The door banged open.

Down on the floor, curled into a twitching ball against the table, was Castiel… doing something they’d only witnessed once before. The poor fellow was laughing, deep and rich and panicked. There was something else mixed with the sound; something almost musical and very, very strange. It made the humans go slightly cross-eyed for a second. They rubbed their faces hard to correct this. At least their ears weren’t screaming in pain.

“OFF!” Cas choked out.

Electricity was buzzing straight through his muscles down into his very grace. It wasn’t only that the unit gave off a tingling pulse over various sensitive points in his wings and shoulders. That would have been bad enough, especially the patches jolting into his wing pits. No, this was something altogether unbearable. Castiel hadn’t even been aware that his very essence of being was capable of falling subject to these sorts of sensations, but save him it tickled and tickled and tickled relentlessly. The entire world was blurred at the edges and all he knew was a crazed swirling of mirth and chaos exploding through his core. It was everywhere, inside and out.

“Hold on, hold on…” Dean tried, though it was doubtful that Cas could even hear him through the forced giggling and weird melodic notes.

Trying to get close enough to Castiel to snatch the machine up was like running a gauntlet. His wings were suffering from a combination of tickle shimmies and electric pulse muscle spasms. Any time Sam or Dean ducked in to make a grab, they were pummeled by a wall of feathers. Dean could taste blood after a clock to his nose, but adrenaline and amusement kept him from noticing more than a vague sting.

“Cas… Cas we can’t… you’ve gotta…” Dean weaved and batted.

“Work with us, Cas!” Sam grunted, hanging onto one wing for dear life as it thrashed him up and down as if he weighed nothing.

“T-t-t!!!” Cas tried to form words through his laughter, arms clutched tight around his middle.

Desperation incarnate, he reached out lightning quick with the miniscule amount of grace able to bend to his will and yanked the boys in close with it. This had the unfortunate side effect of spreading the sensation as the essence touched down on them, leaving both Winchesters doubled up in helpless wheezing cackles against their angelic friend. What the hell was this non-physical tickly feeling???

“CAS D-!!! CAN’T HE-HELP IF?!” Dean snorted.

They were screwed. Caught in the loop of laughter. What a way to go out.

Until…

It seemed that the reapers would not be coming for them on that particular day. Whether from divine intervention or dumb luck, the device shut off. A collective gasp for air sounded through the room.

“Shit… that tickled.” Dean heaved. “What happened?”

“It would seem that my grace is… vulnerable to electric stimulation.” Castiel rolled onto his back and put a hand over his face in a mixture of relief and embarrassment.

Nobody moved. There was a strange afterglow of sheer contentment from the shared-grace-giggling experience, though nobody was quick to admit how good they felt at the moment.

“Timer.” Sam stated finally. “I have a default timer of five minutes on it. That’s why it shut off.”

“Yeah, well, we’re gonna have to turn the settings WAY down on that thing because I don’t think I can handle that again right now if Wiggles over here gets grabby with his grace.” Dean rolled up into a sit and started aligning the intensity controls.

Cas made an instinctive reach for the device, which Dean deftly avoided.

“Not our fault you turned it on when it was set high. We’re still doing this, but we’re doing it right. Lower pulse ought to be fine. Back up on the table.”

Wide eyed and nervous, Castiel resumed his original position. He was still just a little too drunk on the endorphin spike to pull an annoyed expression, but still swiftly gripped a wrist on each brother.

“Don’t leave this time.” he insisted.

Sam and Dean shared a look, then jumped up to sit on either side of him. When he gave a small nod to signal his mental steel-up, the TENS unit once again buzzed to life, this time at a far more tolerable frequency. Only just, but tolerable all the same. His grace gave out pulsing shivers, almost as if nails were running over sensitized skin.

Hands balled in the padding blankets and legs lightly squirming for purchase over the side of the table, Castiel tried his best to bear through the time. He dug his chin down into his collar bone as breathy giggles clawed their way to the surface. Nope. A grown man-angel shouldn’t be allowed to be this adorable.

“This is supposed to be relaxing. Are you relaxed?” Dean grinned, giving a little poke to one of the wiggling wings.

“I AM NO-HOT!”

Sam held back a snort to avoid embarrassing the angel, but threw Dean a can you believe this expression when Cas tipped to his side and pressed muffled laughter into his jacket sleeve. Both brothers held a supportive hand to the angel’s back.

“Cas, we’d better not catch you alone like this again in your free time. If we need you for a case and you’re just holed up under the table having a tickle party for one-”

“Be quiet, De-hean!” Cas interrupted him with a giggly shove from the closest wing. “I’ll make you… I’ll make you feel…”

It was hardly an intimidating threat at the moment. The teasing verbal jabs seemed to up the intensity of whatever was happening with the celestial energy, and Castiel’s eyes were shining bright with tears by the time the machine beeped to signal the end of its cycle.

“Finished.” Sam announced in a sympathetic tone.

“Already?” Cas asked, wiping away the evidence of his mirth crying.

“Already?” Dean repeated, amused.

“It seemed to go by much faster. Perhaps, time being relative and also being that the potency of the treatment was at a marked decrease, my tolerance was raised for the challenge. It was pleasant. The effect on my grace was thoroughly enjoyable.” Castiel acknowledged, squinting at the Winchesters’ surprised expressions. “Did I not elucidate this well enough?”

Carefully, he stretched out his wings, noting with satisfaction that they felt remarkably limber as compared to the prickly tightness from the beginning of the day. He gave a soft yelp when fingers began picking at the TENS pads to unstick them from his skin. A bit over-sensitive from prolonged tingles, it was a struggle to wrench his wings up to allow the leads to be peeled away from the joints at his shoulder blades. They snapped down repeatedly and he shook his head with a scrunched nose of valiant failed effort. It wasn’t until Dean reached out a tickly grab to Cas’ knee to redirect sensation that he buckled in and became uncoordinated enough for Sam to strip everything free.

When everything had been boxed back up, it was difficult to ignore that Castiel’s expression remained bright and pleased. He looked happy. With any luck, maybe in the future that would not feel like such a foreign thing to see.

———

Publisher’s Notes: I absolutely LOVED getting to toss around ideas with you, some of which ended up straight here! This is so precious, and the line “...if Wiggles over here gets grabby with his grace” is a particular treasure. Thank you so much for blessing us with this continuation! <3

#wingfic #submission #author ask.flip.frost #ticklish!Cas #Team Free Will #Supernatural #Castiel #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #angel mojo #tickling #written for me!#Of Maintenance #Of Maintenance: Physical Therapy #series: Of Maintenance #tickle fic

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lizzybeth1986 · 6 years

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Quick Thoughts on DD Book 1 Chapter 4

• Jesus, this book is expensive.

• Like I assumed Chapter 3's one accomplishment-one-or-two-LIs-or-a-family-member thing would be a one-off, just to introduce us into the system/ease us into the story, but no...they've (sort of) repeated it this chapter. I was hoping they would spread out the accomplishments at least, but perhaps they want us to have at least most of the accomplishments worked out before we leave for London.

• I really hope this doesn't become a regular thing because it will only cause players to lose interest in the books for lack of affordability, in the long run. As it is the book largely caters to a niche audience...alienating that audience by having them lose of on half the story won't bode well for the book.

• Title: Best Foot Forward. Man, this one is easy. Of course it refers to dancing. And quite a lot of dancing is done this chapter, that's for sure!

• Sooo...the Earl has decided to introduce us into society in Edgewater with a garden party. Lots of hobnobbing, some dancing, a few games and you meet at least one 'suitor'.

• Did You Know: According to writer and garderner Kim Wilson, who wrote a book titled In the Garden with Jane Austen, gardens were viewed as markers of social status. In an interview with The Scotsman, she says, "each family's garden reflected not only their needs but, if they had enough money, their social aspirations". The poor cottagers of the time were mostly concerned with growing food and having a place to keep their chickens whereas wealthier families would have had kitchen gardens, but also often extensive pleasure grounds, which were places to display their wealth and taste. (from an article about Jane Austen's love for gardens in The Scotsman).

• Last chapter had us learning (optionally) the art of the fan from our Lady Grandmother, so it makes sense that what happens in this chapter is this:

Lololol just kidding.

• So the chapter begins with the MC and Briar talking. Briar is excited about the fact that a Duke (who, she reminds us, is "one step below a Prince Regent"), and the MC can either choose to be excited or very confident. Interestingly, if you're excited, she reminds you to "not forget your roots", which I think is a recurring theme in this book. After all, that was the last thing the MC's mother told her on her deathbed.

• Dominique enters the room and both she and Briar present us with a pretty pink lace dress that is sure to improve both our social standing and catch everyone's eye at this introductory garden party.

• It looks quite pretty, actually. But that's because I love lace.

• We head downwards, finding Annabelle performing for herself in the foyer and having a thoroughly good time.

• I'm wondering if I should have a tally for the number of times she says "a thousand pardons" (and for the record, I think her way of saying "fiddlesticks" is adorable xD).

• Our third "accomplishment" (and our second paid one) is presented to us here: dancing. It's not like the MC doesn't know dancing - she does - it's that the country dances (this might be a reference to the English Country Dances that were popular among all classes) are different from the ones Annabelle has learned, and indeed the popular ones for the aristocracy that are coming in from other places, like France.

• Annabelle mentions a couple of dances that were popular for its time: the cotillion (originated from France), the Quadrille (also from France), and La Boulanger (also French). If we choose the shoes the Lady Grandmother got made for us, Annabelle wastes no time in teaching us the last one.

• Annabelle speaks to us about the Quadrille being new. She isn't lying. The Quadrille became fashionable in England around 1815.

• Again, the good thing about the accomplishment scenes is that they're meant only for learning the skill, and Annabelle can develop in her individual scenes independent of this. Though I'm not sure if cramming both her individual scenes and her accomplishment scenes in the same chapter, two chapters in a row is a very good idea.

• Another marker of how new the MC is, lies in her interaction with Mr Woods (who is perhaps the only member of the housing staff we see at the party. Briar disappears completely after she's done her work of getting the MC ready, and Luke doesn't appear either). Mr Woods is surprised the MC deigns to speak to him in public, and Henrietta uses her interaction with him to point out how little she fits in, what with talk of the MC's "roots".

• Lol the exchange with the Earl if you bought the scene with the Lady Grandmother is quite funny haha. He speaks about Dominique drilling him into learning the names of all the families and the MC - saucy little shit that she is 😄 - looks at her fan and says "oddly enough, I know exactly what you mean".

• Ernest Sincliare makes his appearance after two chapters, and there's some banter about compliments if you're wearing the pretty lace dress I think. She teases him about it and he retorts that since he passes compliments so rarely, you can be sure that when he does he means every word. I can see that logic in that, Sinclair, but must you look like a child who has accidentally sucked on a particularly sour lemon when you do? 😂

• Throughout the chapter, you get references to the Season in London, and each time the MC by default takes it for granted that she will not be going there. Sinclaire hosts parties in London, Annabelle Parsons will be going there for the Season. Up until the end of the chapter, the vibe given overall is that she won't be seeing the two for a while now that they will be leaving Edgewater, and she won't.

• Did You Know: The London Season was developed to coincide with the sitting of parliament. During the months when parliament was in session, members of both Houses needed to be in attendance in London and came to the capital bringing their families with them. The London season grew up in response to this influx of upper class people who needed to be entertained.

Amanda Foreman, in her biography on Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, stated: "the aristocratic "season" came into existence not only to further the marriage market but to entertain the upper classes while they carried out their political duties. The season followed the rhythm of Parliament: it began in late October with the opening of the new session, and ended in June with the summer recess.” of course, later on this period of time gradually began to shift.

There also seems to be something called the "little season", but that seems more a fixture of the Victorian age than the Regency one (as mentioned in the article on the London Season from the Regency History website).

• The Earl and Mr Sinclaire share a more than cordial relationship: the Earl treats him with considerable warmth and Sinclaire shows a genuine respect and regard for him. You have a choice of asking him whether it is the Earl - or you - he has respect for (and the second option leads to a romantic moment), but it is what he says about the Earl, and his later interaction with Duke Richards that intrigues me:

What happened to Ledford Park that the Sinclaires almost lost it? Why does his statement towards the Duke about Ledford sound so accusatory? Why is there such a strong undercurrent within the latter interaction? I want to know what the story behind Ledford Park is, and how the Earl helped save it.

• One of my favourite Sinclaire-related sequences is an additional scene featuring the fan, as taught to us by the Dowager Countess the previous chapter. I tried the last two with Florence, the MC who has no interest in Sinclaire:

(the first four screenshots are from the "friends" option, and the next four from the "go away u suck" option)

Meanwhile, Marianne just goes in for the kill, fam. Homegirl didn't learn all those thot moves from Grandma for nothing 😄

I do like that extra bit of sexual tension in this scene. I'm not very into Sinclaire yet, but I can see the appeal he'd have for someone who would want the Mr Darcy type of Regency male LI character. You also see a fair bit of it in the scene where the MC asks him if it is her he respects:

• Sinclaire, dude, what is it with you and Italics??

• We now interrupt our regular programme with a game of Skittles. I'm not sure how many of you assumed Regency-era aristocrats were going to start passing around fruit-flavoured candy but I sure did 😂

• So this is skittles, played with nine pins. Very much one of the precursors to present day bowling from what I've read. Playing this game, and beating a champion like Mr Sinclaire at it will not only allow you to spend time alone with him, but also increase your social standing.

• It's simple enough: hit the red pin in the centre, and if you want you can distract the hell out of Sinclaire after he's fired his first shot.

• Twice this chapter, you see our resident comic relief for the day: Miss Theresa Oh-My-Smelling-Salts Sutton, and Mr Edmund Do-I-Look-Like-I-Care Malcaster, and I've decided I like them both (I wanted to add screenshots, but tumblr mobile sucks and won't let me put up more than ten images 😒)

• So we meet the "handsome", "titled" eligible bachelor our Lady Grandmother wanted us so badly to marry and...

...um. lol. ok.

Handsome? Charming? When was the last time you looked in the mirror dude, 20 years ago?

• You have a choice of how to respond after Duke Richards insults Mr. Sinclaire. You can either choose the Manners option, or you can choose to outright sass the man. If you don't sass him? The Lady Grandmother will do it for you.

• With the Manners option we find out that the Duke is 51 years old.

• With the non-manners option we find out that the dude likes saucy little minxes.

• @ the last panel in Florence's playthrough, Grandma even you can't deal with this dude for two minutes without nodding off. Why are you dumping him on my head then? (don't tell me. I know the answer 😐). See, this is why Florence will eventually kiss her inheritance goodbye lol.

• Jesus can this man just...speak two words without touching me??

• FINALLY. Miss Parsons. We choose a hiding place to get away from the Duke and then she offers to show us a new part of the estate: the lakefront. The great thing about gardens, esp in the writing of the time, was that it provided privacy for people at the time and allowed them to interact in ways they couldn't in public.

• Did you know: Austen herself used gardens pretty extensively in her writing. Mr Knightley confesses his love to Emma close to a shrubbery. Elizabeth jokes to her aunt about deciding to marry Mr Darcy after seeing the grounds in Pemberley. Fanny Price of Mansfield Park remarks, “To sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment.” Catherine Morland of Northanger Abbey falls in love with hyacinths, Marianne Dashwood of Sense and Sensibility has a passion for fallen leaves in an autumnal garden, while Anne Elliot of Persuasion is always inspired to think of poetry when enjoying the beauties of nature.

Susannah Fullerton in her essay "Jane Austen and her gardens" (for the website Garden Drum) says: "Many proposals [in Austen's novels] take place out of doors where lovers can find some privacy amongst the gravel walks and flower beds; garden improvements are planned by some of the characters; and her heroines all enjoy going into a garden to think".

• Makes sense then that one of the special scenes of this largely "forbidden" relationship (if you choose for that to happen) would take place in greenery, close to a lake. If you notice, it's quite in keeping with the times that most of the romantic moments this chapter happen either in an isolated section of the gardens or while dancing, both of which allow for some measure of interaction between people interested in each other.

• Miss Parsons, the legendary hero of a Duck Prophecy xD

• I love her in this scene. Sure she gets shy when she receives attention she's not used to from us, and she's kind and educative and sweet, but she's also boisterous and passionate and not afraid to pull punches when she needs to (case in point: the shade she immediately throws Henrietta's way regarding her "tutelage"). This scene has her stealing cake from the party to feed the ducks, getting exhilarated from the race and her new friendship with the MC, and feeling extremely confused by her feelings if you speak to her romantically.

• The first half of this scene is pure fun, but the second inevitably shows the two women experiencing a sense of loss that their connection will be cut short - whether they are friends or whether this is a budding romance.

• What I do love about both the romance scenes are the extra touches added to both in the coding. In the skittles scene with Ernest, Marianne is spoken of by default as brushing her hand against his before giving him the ball, whereas Florence simply passes it to him.

• Even with Annabelle, if you acquire romance points with her, the ending of that scene is written quite differently:

I absolutely love this part of the scene. And given that very often the female LI is treated like just the default best friend with some stray romance options attached, it really does feel good to have that sexual tension acknowledged.

• Florence, babe, what is it with you and Italics??

• TIME TO PUT ON OUR DANCING SHOES GUYS (if we bought them).

• So we're doing a dance called La Boulanger...which kinda looks like this:

You dance in a circle, then keep switching partners.

• Did You Know: that the Boulanger was one of the very few dances mentioned by name in Jane Austen's novels? (Pride and Prejudice Chapter 3. I think the reel is mentioned in another).

• I have two left feet unless someone is heavily choreographing a flash mob and spends ages teaching me the steps lol so this looks pretty complicated to me 😂

• You have an option of choosing between Mr Sinclaire, Miss Parsons and Duke Richards. The first two are the usual you'd expect from romantic dance scenes if you choose either of the first two, impressing them with your dance moves and then catching their eye when you're dancing with Edmund, your stepbrother. With Miss Parsons there is an additional show of boldness in that there is a danger of making their affections public.

• The Duke Richards option, which I managed to see thanks to @i-dream-so-i-write ...seems pretty okay actually. He doesn't seem as handsy and creepy as he does in our first meeting (there is a moment where his "hands skim your waist" though, and he tells us we've been apart too long [a couple seconds, tops]), but he's also still talking our ears off. If anyone is interested in seeing it, I can attach the screenshots!

• This man is so freaking extra I can't even.

• The chapter ends with the Earl announcing that he is changing his will, and that the MC is heiress to Edgewater Estate now, which makes it essential for her, then, to make her debut at the London Season, and begin searching for prospective bridegrooms.

• There is a catch though. You get the inheritance if you marry someone of suitable rank. In short...at this point in the story, Marianne is doing alright, but Florence is well and truly screwed until there is a twist somewhere (and surely there will be at some point). Sorry Florence.

• Henrietta has something up her sleeve, and Edmund, who was expecting to inherit, is sad and tells the MC so. You get a relationship point with him if you tell him you understand how it must feel, but he reiterates that you probably won't. We have time, we can still get this dude (and his palpitating fiancée) on our side. Maybe.

• Looks like we'll be starting our journey to London straightaway, and making our debut in London at Mr Sinclaire's party by Chapter 6. Alsooo from the spoilery chapter descriptions it looks like Mr. Marlcaster will try tripping us up at least once, or more than once. Also looks like we have two more skills on our accomplishment board to learn. So far we've gotten needlework, music and dancing - we now need to see what the other two are. I THINK one of them is painting.

General Thoughts:

• Good chapter. It's a little slow which is fine, because I think all the action will actually happen during the London Season instead. We meet only two suitors, one of whom we have already met in the first chapter.

• I feel like the extra scenes that we'll get with the unlocked accomplishments will include other styles of the same art. We initially learn the piano, but I feel like unlocking it will lead to extra scenes with other instruments, and unlocking the dancing shoes will show us extra scenes of Annabelle teaching us other dances (the waltzes, the reel, etc). I'm not entirely sure about this, it's just a theory I have. I mean, once we're in London we'll need to learn waltzes and the minuet and stuff.

• Luke doesn't make an appearance this chapter, but then again nor does Briar as soon as the MC gets ready. I think we'll see more of him now that we will be traveling to London.

• Donna Hatch's (who writes a ton of historical romances, esp Regency) essay on the London Season lists the months active in each year for it, and in 1816 it was from February to July. In the story it's now the beginning of April. Usually it's best to go at the very start if you're looking for marriage prospects, but given the MC's particular circumstances this time of the season isn't too bad either I'd reckon.

• Remember how I told you guys last chapter about the inclusion of Mary Brunton's Self Control? And how she criticizes the popular "rake" figure in Regency fiction? I'm not sure Duke Richards adheres completely to how rakes were depicted at the time, but he definitely does seem to be channeling Colonel Hargrave a little here.

• I wonder what the Duke seems to be hiding. Besides of course the truth of his equation with Sinclaire. Why is he so focused on this new woman? I think there might be more to this. I also can't wait to see the other suitors, like the viscount and Mr Chambers.

• I do like how we learn more about Sinclaire and Annabelle here. Annabelle largely has the role that Hana had in TRR, and there are some similarities - but she also has a lot more wiggle-room and seems to be bolder and a little more outgoing. She has grown up with the limitations placed on women at the time, but unlike Hana, hasn't faced as many restrictions in her upbringing.

• As I've mentioned before, I love Annabelle and I love that they're trying to do a better job of her. But I'm not entirely sure if cramming two separate scenes of hers in single chapters of an already expensive book is a wise choice, or if it will harm her development in the long run because people find it too expensive to spend on her. IMO the accomplishment scenes should be a little further spread out in the books.

• Now that the MC is going to be a future Countess, what is in store for her? In her rightful home Edgewater, she has a limited audience and not as much expectation to live up to...what will become of her now that she will be participating in the Season in London? Guess we'll find out today, or in the coming weeks xD

• Tagging: @boneandfur @liamraines @thespiritpanda @alanakusumastan @ernestsinclairs @mrsthomashunt @private-investigator-nazario @bcdollplace @queenodysseia @mcbangle

If you'd like to be tagged in one of the QTs, please let me know!

#desire and decorum #long post #ernest sinclaire #annabelle parsons #ernest x mc #annabelle x mc #dnd quick thoughts #quick thoughts #edgewater estate

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michaelreaderreblog · 6 years

Text

My truemate pt9

Links to catch up on the series ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT

AN: Ok I did something in this part and kept with it all through the other parts as well. If none of you are into this particular pairing then you dont have to continue on with this series and I completely understand. I just did this because I have never done this pairing before. You’ll find out. Enjoy reading though

************************************

Word Count: 2,109

Once you got to the Cuthbert residence, you couldnt be more in love with house. The Cuthbert home is a Victorian Modern home with a wrap around porch, once you have parked in the drive way. You get out to walk to the front door and knock. Naomi answers the door.

“Y/n I hope you found the house ok” she says while gesturing you to come into her home.

You stand in the foyer looking around the house and now knowing what it appears on the inside. Even inside of the house is so modern and that just totally killed it for you, as you stood on the outside you had hoped it would have the Victorian feel to it but the outside is just beautiful.

“Yeah I found my way with an ease which is a good thing” you tell her while she leads you into the kitchen.

“I will get Castiel for you, are you able to drop him off? We only have the two vehicles for now, his car is in the shop at the moment” she says while she steps out of the kitchen.

“Yeah I have no problem dropping him off” you tell her with a smile on your face.

She goes up the stairs to get her son, as soon as you hear two sets of foot steps coming down the stairs. They enter into the kitchen, you see Naomi standing next to her son who is tall, dark haired, and the most beautiful blue eyes you have seen.

“Y/n I would like you to meet my son Castiel. Castiel this is Y/n Winchester the kind woman you spoke with over the phone” she says looking between the two of you.

“Oh wow hi. I didnt picture you as young, and g gorgeous” he says while he stutters at the end of his compliment.

“D - I didnt, thank you. I think we should get going before the customer comes to the house and no one answers the door” you finally get out the sentence that was stuck in between your tongue.

He smiles at the gesture and walks out the door with you to the car.

“This is a beautiful car, is this yours?” he asks once he is seated inside beside you.

“No, its my brother Deans car. I am just borrowing it, I dont have one of my own but maybe get one later” you say while pulling out of the drive way to head back to the house.

“Thank you for agreeing in picking me up, I would have drove myself but my car is in the shop” Castiel says to break the silence in the car on the drive back to your house.

“That is not a problem really” you tell him as you have a smile on your face.

“With this job, I will be handing the customers their products that they order?” he asks looking away from the window.

“Yeah you will be doing that along with completing the transaction if they havent paid online. You will be staying behind while I do deliveries, and if everything goes smoothly than I can probably teach you how to make the plush toys and knit. How does that sound?” you tell him as you explain more of what will be expected of him while being on the job.

“That sounds like fun and I know how to sow so if there is anything that requires that then I will be of assistance” he says looking at you with a smile on his face, you can tell that he is feeling rather pleasant about the whole entire situation.

“Good because there are going to be stitching of repairs for the plush toys when the customers call in a broken toy or anything like that. If the toy is completely ruined then we are going to restuff the toy to stitch it back up to make it look good as new” you tell him as you take your eyes off the road to look at him with a smile on your face.

“Thats really generous of you. What made you want to open this business?” he asks keeping his gaze upon you.

“Well while growing up my late mother made these toys and I love how everything was hand crafted, creatively put together and knowing my mom put everything together. I loved these toys so much I asked her to teach me how to sew, knit, and piece everything together. I became accustomed to it that I fell in love with making them because knowing that someone else is going to love the toy as much as I love making them. From there I took over the business when my mom had a hard time with her hands because of the arthritis was really bad in her hands after a while” you tell him on how everything came to be for you and how you took over the business when your mom couldnt hold two knitting needles much longer.

“A family business you wanted to keep going and possibly pass down to your future children. I think thats the most heart felt story I have ever heard” he says while his smile never fades from his face.

“Yeah and there is always that possibility if that will ever happen” you tell him as you give a slight chuckle to him.

“It will happen dont worry, if not that we can adopt” he says with a wide smile and you two sit in the car driving up the drive way laughing at the comment he made about you two adopting children.

“Yeah we can adopt because its not physically possible for either of us to produce sperm to get either of us pregnant” you retort back to Castiel who is having a full belly laugh with his head falls back against the passenger seat.

Once you stopped the car in front of the house, Castiel is the one out of the car first and the both of you hear the power tools from the garage knowing Dean is busy at work.

“This is a beautiful house, you see the back yard?” he asks looking around the property.

“Yeah and it also leads to the lake which neither of my brothers noticed when we first got here” you tell him as you lead him to the front door.

You two walk into the house and give him the tour of the house before going to work in the lower level.

“Finally this is my office, here is my working station and that table over there is where I measure the fabric and thats pretty much it around here” you tell while looking around in your office.

You hear the door bell going and knowing all to well that is a customer picking up their order that they have made. Castiel gets to work right away in handing them off and collecting the rest of the transaction.

You continue on working on the party favours order that was requested by a customer whose child is having a party at the end of the week and you needed to get the order done before the customer came to pick it up.

“Well thats all for the orders for today. The only thing that needs to be done is the order you are currently working on is about it” Castiel says looking at the client list for the day and looks at the list of orders for the week.

“I am almost done here and tomorrow I will finish the rest well maybe I might just finish them tonight” you tell him while you stitch up the fabric on the plush toy.

“Your toys are beautiful, you ever think of personal plush toys to make at the customers request?” he asks while he has one of the toys in his hands admiring the work you put into.

“No I havent thought about it. Now that you brought it up I think it would be great if I added on the option. Thanks Castiel” you tell him while keeping focus on the work you are doing and not realizing you have given him a nick name.

He smiles as you agree to his suggestion, he thought you might have shot the idea down but you didnt.

You hear a knock at the door and the scent changes in the air, its Castiel who has fear reeking from him and you place a hand on his leg to rub soothing circles.

“Look at me, you have beautiful blue eyes. Sorry, no need to fear ok? Its one of my brothers and I promise you they will not hurt you, they would never lay a hand on another person ok” you tell him as you keep his gaze on you while you have your hand on his arm and rubbing it works while his nerves settle.

He looks at you and gives you a smile while he nods in agreement.

“There is that beautiful smile” you smile as you tell him what always works to settle your nerves after Dean would say the same that thing to settle your nerves.

You get up from your chair, your hand never leaving his shoulders and you open the door and its Sam who is home from work.

“Hey big brother” you say with a smile on your face as you look to him.

“Sam I want you to meet someone. Castiel this is my brother Sam who just recently got a job as duty counsel at city hall. Sam this is Castiel he will be working with me” you introduce them to each other.

While you were talking the whole time you scent that Castiel is getting more settled with Sam inside your office.

“Well congratulations Castiel, you are going to be working with one of the best people” he says looking away from him and looks to you with a wink.

“Thank you, for one of the best people she has given me the opportunity to work and that says a lot about her” he says looking between the both of you.

You look at Castiel with a smile on your face and place your hand on his arm to give a gentle squeeze for the gracious comment.

“Dont mind me, I wanted to come down here to see how the plushies have come along” He says moving into the office further to look at the toys you have made to keep yourselves busy.

“Moms signature” he says with a smile on his face as he holds one of the toys in his hands.

“Signature?” Castiel asks as he looks between you and Sam.

“Mom always added red stitching with the initials M.W. Y/n Im glad you kept it with the toys you made” he says looking away from the toy and to you.

“Well these are moms toys and after she passed I wanted to keep her initials stitched in for a memorial type thing” you look at the toys around the office and seeing the initials its like she never left.

“These are the most beautiful toys I have ever seen not because they are hand crafted because they are crafted with such elegance, kindness, care, and love” he says looking to the toys and looking to Sam who has an equal length of a smile on his face.

`“Thank you Castiel that really means a lot to me” you say moving to his side, slide your arms across his abdomen and lean your head against him.

“Sammy, y/n we should go out for dinner because I dont feel like cooking and I am pretty ei th er o” Dean comes down the stairs from the garage and stops at the door looking between all three of us in the office.

“Dean this is Castiel, I hired him to work with me and I am happy you gave me the idea to hire someone. Castiel this is my oldest brother Dean he has his own business as well and works out of the garage for now well until he can get a bigger place that is. Isnt that right big brother?” you introduce Dean and Castiel to each other, you look to Dean who is struggling to form any words or sentences and thats when it hit you.

He has found his mate, his true mate and that true mate is Castiel. He stands there looking as nervous as Dean is looking but he doesnt seem to be afraid of him which is a good thing because you didnt want Castiel to fear either of your brothers.

I dont remember who else asked for tags but only two I can think of

Tags List

@freerebelmentality

@animegirlgeeky

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