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alltheloveinthegalaxy · 6 years

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Reylo fanfiction prompt for you! Rey finds out she's pregnant from the forcebond hand-hold. Bonus points if you have her telling Ben ;-)

Cosmic Conundrum

pt. 1

Several weeks after the battle of Crait, Rey finds herself in a strange predicament. She feels more unbalanced than she ever has — bending over a toilet seat in the Millennium Falcon. Between dry heaving on an empty stomach and vomiting her weight — she can’t seem to figure out what is causing her early morning queasiness.

She’d assumed it was a stomach bug and nothing more. But the fact that no one seemed to inherit this seemingly contagious illness in such close quarters with Chewie, Finn, Rose or Poe. It seemed odd.

She began to worry that something far more sinister was at play. Perhaps all of those years of worry and desperation in the hot and polluted desert air had earned her some type of fatal illness.

Finally, out of sheer pressure from the rest of the Resistance — she was seen by a medical droid in the base.

“Positive,” the droid says, mechanically.

“What?” Rey asks, exhausted and slumping. “What’s positive? What do I have?”

“You’re carrying a child,” the droid beeps. “Your test was positive.”

Rey raises an eyebrow.

“What? That’s not possible.” She snickers to herself.

“You are indeed pregnant,” the med droid repeats.

“That must be a mistake…I’ve never…” she trails off.

Just then, General Leia Organa-Solo enters the small, cold room.

“Ahem,” She announces herself. “May I have a word?” She asks Rey, dismissing the droid from the room.

The young scavenger is sitting on a stiff and uncomfortable hospital bed, looking frazzled.

“Rey,” Leia takes a seat in a chair and places her hand over the young woman’s.

“It’s impossible,” Rey says, shaking her head.

“Actually, it is possible,” Leia looks at her sympathetically. Rey looks puzzled and taken aback.

“No you don’t understand,” She starts. “I- I’m a…I haven’t ever….well you see…I’m a virgin.” Rey blushes, averting Leia’s eyes. Certainly she’d believe her, right?

“I know,” Leia sighs. “I’ve known that you were carrying a child for quite some time…I was in shock myself and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I suppose I wanted to wait and see that technology could detect what I’ve sensed in the Force for weeks now…”

Rey pulls her hands away from Leia, horrified. Suddenly, it all made sense — sort of. She had sensed something within her for over a month now but she’d dismissed it as another new feeling in the Force she was yet to understand.

Everything was still so new to her. But this, this was something else.

“I…” she shakes her head in disbelief, placing a hand over her belly. She gasps when she senses a faint but very real spark of life within her Force signature.

“How could this have happened?” Rey’s eyes are welling up with tears.

“Legend has it that my father, Anakin Skywalker was born, a creation of the Cosmic Force… my grandmother Shmi was also a virgin when she was impregnated with my father.” Leia explained, looking Rey in the eyes.

“But how could something like this have happened to me?” Rey was sobbing now.

Both women are silent for a moment when a revelation passes through Rey.

Her mind pulls her from the present moment and she can see him. She remembers the way his fingers dragged across hers and the way his touch felt like touching a live wire the middle of a wrecked starship.

Ben Solo, the man she loved, in secrecy had touched only her hand in that moment but he had inadvertently done so much more than either of them could have ever imagined.

The Force worked in mysterious and fortuitous ways that no one would ever really understand. For whatever reason, the Cosmic Force had impregnated Rey of Jakku with Ben Solo’s child.

Leia fought the urge to cry. This was never the way she thought her life was going to end up. It goes without saying, that they are both aware of how this happened, words are not necessary.

The general embraces Rey as warmly as she can. Nothing could have prepared either of them for this shocking turn of events. Rey sobs violently into her shoulder. Her mind is racing.

What am I going to do now? How will I tell him? Should I tell him? Will he sense it before I can reach him? Will this lure him back to the light?

Four Months Later

“Supreme Leader,” General Hux bows half heartedly as he regards the tall, cloaked man in front of him who is keeping watch over mechanics as they work on TIE fighters on The Finalizer.

“We have the prisoner on board, the girl you’ve been looking for,” Hux looks disgusted, as if he doesn’t think the matter is important. “The girl who supposedly murdered the Supreme— ahem, Snoke.”

“I know,” Kylo Ren says impassively, hands clasped behind his back. “Bring her in. I want her unharmed.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader. You have made that clear,” Hux rolls his eyes before turning on his heel to exit the room. But Ren doesn’t care enough to punish him for his attitude.

On the outside, he appears to be calm and collected. His hair isn’t as unkempt as it usually is and his face is as clear as porcelain.

But on the inside, he feels as if a thousand tiny needles were poking his chest. His heart was pounding. His stomach felt uneasy and sick.

He has not seen Rey of Jakku in the flesh since the day he murdered his master for her. Although they had kept an unstable connection in the Force, they’d mostly done their best to ignore each other — acknowledging that neither party was willing to concede.

When she’s finally brought in by two stormtroopers, Kylo Ren’s stone cold expression melts to a softer one as Ben Solo begins to show through.

He waves the guards away. After the door is closed, he releases her restraints with a wave of his gloved hand. They fall to the floor, clanking loudly.

She stands very still for a moment, wearing a forest green cloak that drapes over her body, only exposing her ankles and brown boots. She looks up at him, a towering figure compared to her stature.

“I’m assuming you have some sort of motive for coming here today…” Ben says, crossing his arms. “Did you come to surrender? Or have you come to try to sway me back to the puny Resistance again?”

“Neither,” she says seriously. Her chest is tight with anxiety. She’d hoped that he would sense the growing child in her womb, so that she didn’t actually have to vocalize it. But alas, he hadn’t.

“Do you have a death wish then?” He asks, circling her. “It was very dangerous for you to enter our radar field. You could have been shot down without a second thought.”

“Well I wasn’t,” Rey snaps, crossing her arms.

“You’re lucky I sensed your presence,” he reasons. “So why are you here, Rey?”

She pauses for a long moment, staring intently into his dark eyes.

She moves to unbutton her cloak, keeping her eyes on him. Ben Solo almost blushes, confused as to why she’s unbuttoning it.

She let’s the cloak slide off of her shoulders, but she keeps it wrapped around her arms, covering her body. She shivers nervously and bites her lip, still keeping her eyes locked on him.

Ben is confused but simply watches her.

Finally, she lets the cloak slide off of her completely. She’s wearing her usual grey tunic and at first, Ben doesn’t notice anything remarkable — until his eyes stumble over the very obvious swell of her belly.

She’s pregnant.

His jaw falls open as he begins to lose his breath. He’s hurting now. The feeling hit him like a dozen daggers, stabbing into his chest.

How could she flaunt this in front of him? Another man’s child. Surely she must have known he was in love with her. He wants to cry, he wants to break things, he wants to destroy her, he wants to kiss her.

Rey begins to cry. Tears streak her face as she places her hands on her belly and takes a careful step to close the gap between them.

“Ben,” she finally speaks. “She’s yours.”

TO BE CONTINUED

#reylo #fanfic #star wars #cosmic force #reylopregnant #rey of jakku #kylo ren #ben solo #general leia #resistance

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callunavulgari · 6 years

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Year-In-Fic

How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount? 26 fics, which is a million times better than my nine from last year, so I’m counting it as a win! 59,441 words, so clearly all of those 1-2k fics added up.

Fic Roundup!

1. Piece From a Satyr Play | Star Wars | Reylo | 141 words

Her hair is done up in white ribbons, three enormously lopsided buns trailing down the back of her neck.

2. Wasted Early Sunday Morning | Star Wars | Reylo | 434 words

Her skin is smoother than his, smoother than many of the people that he’s touched in his life, and he aches to touch it now, watching her stretch lazily in the early morning sunlight, spine arching like a cats.

3. Cosmic Love | Stargate Atlantis | Mcshep | 786 words

There’s solid matter under the palm of his hand, a beating pulse, and a heart to go with it. A living person that Rodney thought that they’d lost.

4. can’t help but be wrong in the dark | The Flash | Barry/Julian | 2,942 words

The day that Allen had snarled an insult back in response to one of Julian’s cutting remarks, he’d gone home and fisted his cock furiously, thinking about the slant of Allen’s mouth and how it would look smeared with come. How Allen’s hair would feel, knotted in Julian’s fingers as he fucked his mouth.

5. eat flowers, breathe light | Stargate Atlantis | Mcshep |1585 words

John gives Rodney a dreamy smile, swaying slightly towards him, and says, “You have really beautiful eyes, you know that?”

6. Bifurcation Theory | Teen Wolf | Stiles/Derek/Lydia | 7208 words

Lydia sucks in another shaky breath, trying to think of a polite way to explain that she’s sorry, that this was a mistake, and she didn’t mean to bother him. Just as she’s opening her mouth, Derek sighs gustily, the sound breaking apart with static in her ear. “What’s Stiles done now?” he asks, his tone resigned.

7. Ain’t At Home (Home’s Where I’m Going) | Horizon Zero Dawn | Aloy/Everyone | 6857 words

“Not all comforts are bad,” Vala whispers, and Aloy shudders apart.

8. love, can’t protect you now | Stargate Atlantis | Mcshep | 1635 words

“When they come,” Rodney tells him quietly, “I won’t kill you.”

9. Say You’ll Be There | The Flash | Barry/Iris, Barry/Thawne | 1159 words

Barry swallows, fingers tangling with hers, and says, “Storms make me think of him.”

10. it’s warm, this skin i’m living in | SGA | Rodney/John | 1,170 words

When he is thirty-seven years old, John Sheppard thinks about the universe.

11. it’s good to be in love, it really does suit you | KH | Sora/Riku/Kairi | 1,694 words

“We’ve done dangerous before.” Sora shrugs. “Getting a mortgage was dangerous, but we did it anyway.”

12. a hazy shade of winter | Stranger Things | Steve/Nancy/Jonathan | 1,863 words

In November, they build a tree house.

13. can’t deny your appetite | SGA | Mcshep | 4,031 words

John finds out that there’s a vampire in Atlantis the day after they’ve stepped through the gate.

He finds out that the vampire in question is Rodney McKay four weeks later, when they’re all hunkered down in the yawning shadow of some crumbling ruins and Rodney looks at him, his eyes eerily bright in the darkness, sees the blood on John’s face, and says, “Oh.”

14. caught off guard by you | FFXV | Prompto/Noctis | 1,671 words

“I just got you back,” Prompto says quietly, words muffled into the curve of Noctis’s neck.

15. take me to church | Teen Wolf | Sterek |3,129 words

Derek scoffs. “You want to take me back to Quantico.”

16. how to be eaten by a woman | Star Wars | Reylo | 1,350 words

“So why don’t you do it?” he asks, breathless. His chest is heaving, his mouth open, gasping for breath.

“Do what?” Rey asks, and thinks about biting his mouth.

The corners of his lips tick upwards. Kylo squints at her, half-smiling. “That.”

17. move the stars for no one | SGA/Labyrinth | Mcshep | 3,049 words

“You have no power over me,” Rodney whispers, just to see the way that the Goblin King’s eyes narrow - how he steps closer, until his narrow hips are pressed up against the footboard.

He slouches in towards Rodney, sways toward him, his clever eyes hooded, and smiles like he’s won something. Asks, “You sure about that?”

18. is this love? | SW | Reylo | 4,013 words

“It’s okay,” her brother tells her on their wedding night, lowering himself to sit on the floor beside her, until his nose is level with her shaking knees. When he smiles, he looks like a monster. “You don’t have to love me.”

Then he goes to sleep on the couch, taking only a threadbare pillow from their marriage bed.

19. rise again | SGA/SW/Dishonored | Rey, Emily, and John Sheppard | 952 words

“You’re Emily Kaldwin.” A pause. “You are, aren’t you?”

Emily blows out a loud sigh, giving him an annoyed look, as if he’s to blame for the fact that she’s the most recognizable face in all the Isles. “Might be.”

“Huh,” the girl says, and takes a seat right there on the floor. “I’m Rey.”

20. i hope you’ll be happy, miss tara joan | SGA | Rodney/John, original child character | 360 words

They turn off John’s life support on a Thursday.

21. blue lips, blue veins | Voltron | Keith & Allura | 655 words

“I am not,” he says stubbornly, “kissing you awake.”

22. jewel of the south | Dishonored/Star Wars | Corvo & Rey | 686 words

The girl watches him warily, hunkered down in a nest of blankets in the corner. She’s a squatter, that much is obvious from her thin, patched clothing and the general disrepair of the apartment that Corvo’s found himself in. He blinks around, eyes lighting on a sofa, a desk, a couple rat-gnawed shoes.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor,” she says flatly, her eyes heavy on him.

“I’m bleeding all over your balcony,” he corrects, and wavers hard enough that his other leg gives out from under him. “And I’m mostly sure that it isn’t yours.”

23. when the autumn moon is bright | SGA | Mcshep | 2,881 words

There weren’t, strictly speaking, supposed to be wolves in Atlantis.

24. hard and heavy, dirty and mean | Stranger Things | Steve/Billy | 2,846 words

“Remember,” he whispers in Steve’s ear, his breath hot. “You wanted this.”

25. I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus | SGA | Mcshep | 3,855 words

Rodney can’t see much about the man inside of the Santa costume from where he’s standing, the wig and beard hides what the suit doesn’t, but there’s something in his mannerisms that makes Rodney feel a spark of familiarity. He swallows and is still trying to puzzle it out when the Santa finishes with the little girl and turns their way.

John Sheppard looks back out at Rodney from behind a fuzzy white Santa beard, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly as they shift from Rodney to Charlie and then back again.

Jesus - fucking - Christ.

26. The Yawning Grave | Star Wars | Gen, Possible Reylo | 2,489 words | WIP

does the skywalker choose the path, or the path the skywalker? [or: the sabriel au that no one asked for]

Best story I wrote this year: take me to church, hands down. Coming back to Sterek, after two years away felt like coming home. Stepping back into Stiles and Derek’s world, into their feelings for each other, was an amazing experience. I miss them, and I love them still, and the story that I gave myself the chance to write was dreamy and quiet, and just so entirely conveys the feel that I wanted to achieve this year.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. Probably a toss up between is this love?, take me to church, and move the stars for no one. Those were the fics that I felt most at home in, the ones that came easily and quietly, like stepping into a comfy robe.

Okay, NOW your most popular story. hard and heavy, dirty and mean comes in first at 992 kudos, 12,356 hits, and 228 bookmarks. I had the good fortune of posting it right after Stranger Things 2 came out, so it got nearly as much traffic as the fic that I wrote last year for the Stranger Things fandom. It is entirely filthy locker room porn between Steve and the latest asshole to be introduced to the high school, and basically exactly the itch that I needed scratched after watching the season. Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: I’m, um. Maybe a little bit put out that I published the first chapter of The Yawning Grave, and it’s only gotten seven kudos. I mean, it’s a prologue, and I made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t sure when the next three chapters would be out, but it was still a little bit of a downer, considering how long I’ve been fretting about the fic itself.

Most fun story to write: jewel of the south was super fun to write, but I tend to have fun with all of my crossover prompts. Imagining Rey in the Dishonored universe (twice!) was great fun, and I would totally do it again. I’m going to pretend that this isn’t tickling the portion of my brain that wants to write a Reylo AU where Rey is the street orphan in Karnaca that Empress Ben Organa runs into when he’s on the run. Don’t think that way, Heather.

Story that could have been better? I think that all of my fics could be better in certain ways, and the day that I don’t feel that way I’ll have gotten too conceited to live. I think the one that bugs me the most is one that I haven’t even published yet. Because I hit a snag with the plot and can’t decide if I feel like going back and changing everything or if there’s a handy work around. If we aren’t counting this one, caught off guard by you was the Prompto/Noctis tragic love story that was supposed to be two or three times as large as it is now, and also feature tent sex.

Story I wrote to fix things: take me to church and Bifurcation Theory. The first I wrote because I received a prompt regarding Derek and Stiles around the time that the first episode of the last season aired. I didn’t watch it, but I did see the scene where Stiles does a literal spit-take upon seeing a shirtless Derek on screen in his FBI class. My brain basically went, ‘huh, they’re gonna fuck it up’ and so I just went for it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s canon.

The second I wrote after I’d reluctantly let myself watch season 6. 6A? Whatever. I was pretty intrigued by the idea of Stiles being taken and forgotten, and I don’t mind Stydia, so I watched it and Bifurcation Theory is basically what I wanted to happen.

Longest completed fic this year: Bifurcation Theory, at 7k. So, you know. Not particularly long at all.

Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year: I actually had a lot of fun dipping my toes into the Stargate Atlantis fandom this year. The people are all really great, and I wish that I’d been around for the old days. Alas, I was up to my eyeballs in anime and Kingdom Hearts.

Favorite character you wrote this year: Toss up between Lydia and Rodney. I like both of their brains, for - weirdly - a lot of the same reasons. Lydia in Bifurcation Theory felt comfortable. A lot of the fic itself is full of tropes that I love. Angst, road trips, little food places that are entirely based off of cafes that I frequent, two people having sex because they’re pining after a third. And Lydia herself is strong and soft and just. I really like writing girls, and Lydia is one of my favorites.

Rodney is just easy.

Most memorable comment this year: Basically every comment that I got on take me to church? Some people welcomed me back to the fandom, others made comments on exactly what I wanted them to feel about the fic - slow, sleepy, and according to one reviewer, tired, but hopeful. I wanted them to be able to feel the atmosphere of the fic above all else, from the quiet echo of the church to that southern sun shower to the shitty apartment. I even had someone comment on the little town in North Carolina that I used as the setting, so all of them were a delight.

Also, I feel the need to say that @popkin16 has some of the best comments and every time I publish a Mcshep fic I eagerly wait in the hopes of a comment from her. They make me really happy.

Fics you wanted to write but didn’t:

Okay, but I’ve written so little compared to what I’ve wanted to. The Sabriel AU is definitely at the top of this list, though I’m hoping to fix that soon. I have the SGA fic where John is a wraith, the SGA fic where John is dead and Rodney is raising his kid, the Enjolras/Grantaire fic, the roadtrip/beach fic that never got written because I couldn’t figure out if I wanted it to be Voltron, Kingdom Hearts, or SGA, the long ass Dishonored fic that spans all three games and basically centers around the idea that the Outsider, Corvo, and Emily come together as the most dysfunctional family ever, the prompt-fics that I started but never finished, the Beetlejuice AU, the girl Cisco AU, the bodyswapping Reylo fic... and those are just ones that I liked enough to jot a sentence or two down somewhere.

Oddest story: Probably move the stars for no one. I mean... it is a fic where John Sheppard is the goblin king. Though I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus was a little crackier than I usually get. Hardest story to do: Hah, my answer to this question last year was the Sabriel AU. That... is still at least slightly true, though the wraith John AU has been a pain in my ass and isn’t even out yet. Of those that I did actually publish this year, caught off guard by you which gave me so much trouble that I eventually just published it as is. Fortunately, a lot of the fic that I wrote this year were little things that niggled their way into my brain, so they came naturally. I didn’t do any challenges or secret santas or big bangs, so I didn’t have to force myself to write anything. Easiest story to write? Again, a lot of them sort of wrote themselves since they came out of my brain mostly formed already. can’t deny your appetite was probably one of the easiest, as were all of the ones that I’ve already mentioned on here. take me to church was pretty high up there.

Most mining of your own history in one story: take me to church and Bifurcation Theory, probably. For the first one, I spent a lot of time in chuches as a kid, a lot of time in cars, and well, the entirety of my childhood in the south. Stiles’ apartment is also completely based off of my last apartment. Well. The building anyway. I had two other roommates and a lot more furniture in my actual apartment, but the layout is all the same.

The vegan cafe that Lydia and Derek stop at is based off of Cornerstone Cafe in Columbus, right down to the probably-gay teal haired kid and the pretty college girl who checks out Lydia. I’m pretty sure there are other bits I’ve borrowed, but that’s the one that stands out.

Oh! Also, it’s good to be in love, it really does suit you. There’s... a whole lot of domestic mumbo jumbo in that. Also, weed smoking on what is an exact replica of my back porch. Actually, scratch that, upon rereading this I realize that it is also an exact replica of my house, minus the weird clock. The table holding Riku’s moon flowers holds my bougainvillea and a couple of my coffee plants in real life. Mickey-the-cat is not mine, but he is based off of BMO, who is. Looking back on it, I’m actually 100% sure that what inspired this entire fic was coming home from work and watching the fireflies with Nick on our back deck. We have a really dense knot of trees surrounding our backyard, and the fireflies are NUTS in the summer. It’s really gorgeous back there.

Themes, or absence thereof: Atmosphere. Feeling-the-fic. Slow, quiet love and burn-you-up passion. Where did you publish/archive your stories? Ao3, as per usual. Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: Sigh. Fingers crossed that I’ll get the Sabriel AU out at least. Though this question has reminded me that I wanted to finish the Carmilla AU as well.

Sexiest moment (excerpt): “Did he ever fuck you?”

“Yes,” Derek gasps, a ragged catch to his voice. Her smile grows and then carefully, she crawls off of him, leaving him blinking at her blankly.

“Good,” she whispers, and hitches her knee invitingly. “So you can fuck me how he fucked you.”

He blinks at her and for a moment she thinks that she may have broken him, but then he’s surging into motion, pinning her to the bed, and sliding home in one smooth movement. She gasps, head thrown back against the pillows, and wraps her legs around his waist. They hold like that, both trembling, sweat on their skin and the smell of sex heavy in the air. His lips hover over hers, so close that if either of them moved even an inch they would drag together, his breath hot against her lips. His eyes dart down to her lips before they jerk back up to her eyes.

“Does that mean I should kiss you how he kissed me?” Derek asks, his voice wrecked, and she whimpers, high and desperate.

“Yes,” she breathes, wetting her lips. “Please.”

(or)

“Who else has been touching you like that, Harrington?” Billy whispers, his lips catching on the curve of Steve’s ear. He licks his lips, tongue flicking out like a snake, like he’s tasting Steve. Like he wants to eat him. “Was it your daddy?”

Steve’s heart is pounding, adrenaline singing in his veins. He’s let this go on too long, has all but given Billy the advantage here - Steve's let himself be backed up against the shower, the handle digging into his lower back.

With a sigh, Steve finally opens his eyes and looks at him.

Billy is standing too close, fully clothed and soaked to the bone, his own hair damp from the spray. The only thing he seems to have thought to take off is his jean jacket, which has been flung thoughtlessly at the benches behind them. His shirt is near translucent against his chest. When he sees Steve looking, he grins, touching the purpling bruise that hasn’t quite faded from Steve’s lower lip.

“Now this one I remember giving you,” he remarks, pressing in closer, until his head is under the spray too, tilted towards Steve.

Steve’s breath hitches and he tries to backpedal, going up on his tiptoes when he finds that there’s no more ground to give. The handle digs painfully into his lower back, but he can’t be bothered to care. He gasps as the hand cups his jaw, Billy’s fingers lingering over another bruise before they begin to skitter down the column of his throat.

Billy grins at him and leans down, pressing a strangely gentle kiss to a fist-shaped bruise at the base of his throat.

“You wear them well,” he whispers, lips slick against Steve’s skin.

Crackiest moment (excerpt): “Dinner should be ready around then,” he says with a shrug, and realizes with an abrupt, sinking sensation that Charlie is going to think that he’s inviting Santa Claus to dinner with them. “I’m uh, shit, here.”

His cheeks go ruddy with embarrassment as he rummages through his bag and comes up with an uncapped green pen and a pad of crinkled yellow paper. He quickly scrawls their address across it before tearing it off the pad and shoving it John’s way. Jesus fucking Christ, the entire food court just watched him set up a date with Santa.

“I, um,” Rodney says, becoming increasingly aware of the surge of noise coming from the disgruntled soccer moms waiting in line. He cringes, dragging Charlie down a few steps. “I’ll just see you later. Maybe.”

He trips on the rug once he reaches the landing, but catches himself on a reindeer before he can go sprawling into the nearby fountain. His face is on fire, but when he looks back up, John Sheppard is smiling down at him, fond and horribly, achingly familiar.

Favorite dialogue (excerpt): “Come on,” Stiles says, pushing to his feet. He turns once he’s up and grabs Derek’s hand, yanking him upright before Derek can think to protest. “I’ve got a place.”

Derek looks at him, his nose wrinkling dubiously. “You have a place in Murfreesboro?”

Stiles raises an eyebrow back, refusing to give ground. “I have a place in Virginia. It’s like, a three hour drive, tops. Less if I speed.”

Derek scoffs. “You want to take me back to Quantico.”

“I’m an intern, Derek. Pretty sure they’re not going to go looking for you under my mattress. Come on,” he coaxes, jostling Derek with his elbow. “You know how this works, we’ve done it before. Safest place to be is right under their nose.”

“This is a little bigger than hiding in the closet every once in awhile so your father doesn’t notice that you're harboring a fugitive, Stiles,” Derek tells him. He shuffles backwards, but Stiles follows him, always a little too close. When Stiles refuses to look chastised Derek reaches out and grabs hold of his wrist, stopping him at arm’s length. He swallows. “We aren’t talking about you getting kicked out of your program if they find me. You’ll go to prison.”

Stiles watches him, his eyes dark. Knowing. He takes a pointed step forward, always pushing, and turns his wrist in Derek’s grip. He’s still watching as he threads their fingers together carefully, his palm a dry rasp against Derek’s.

“I know,” he whispers, and leans in to press their mouths together.

(or)

“You have no power over me,” Rodney whispers, just to see the way that the Goblin King’s eyes narrow - how he steps closer, until his narrow hips are pressed up against the footboard. He reaches out, curling long, elegant fingers around the cold metal rungs between them, and though he hisses out low through his teeth when he finds the sting of iron waiting for him, he does not look away.

John is a looming figure in the shadows, a slash of moonlight thrown across his face illuminating the smirk that sits there. He slouches in towards Rodney, sways toward him, his clever eyes hooded, and smiles like he’s won something. Asks, “You sure about that?”

“No,” Rodney admits and pushes himself up. The cracked saucer is in John’s hand, empty. Rodney licks his lips. “Not at all.”

“I love you,” he offers quietly. It’s the only secret he has left.

John cocks his head, letting go of the bars and coming around the side of the bed. He is human enough, save the glint of gold in his collar and the slight sharpness of his teeth. He smells real, and absurdly, Rodney wants to dance with him.

“Nothing is freely given,” John says, but it sounds like a question. There isn’t an apology in his eyes, but Rodney hadn’t expected there to be one. The empty saucer in his hand was proof enough.

Rodney shrugs. “Your rules, not mine.”

Favorite lines (excerpt): It’s raining when they leave the church, a warm downpour that leaves everything smelling of green things and wet earth. The sun is still shining, giving the parking lot a strange, otherworldly air. Stiles squints out into the glare, mashing the button on his key fob until an anonymous black sedan honks back at them, the tail lights flashing red.

Stiles bounds across the parking lot, holding a hand over his head to ward off the rain. A hint of ankle winks back at Derek as he scrambles gracelessly into the driver’s seat. Derek follows at a more sedate pace, swinging by the car that he’d bought for a couple hundred bucks from a local hick’s junkyard. He grabs his bag from the back and the picture of Laura that he’s got pinned under the visor, but leaves the rest to rot in the parking lot. Someone will find it eventually.

When he climbs into the passenger seat he’s uncomfortably damp, but can’t bring himself to be troubled over it. He feels lighter than he has in months. Maybe years.

“What happened to the jeep?” Derek asks, dragging a careless hand across the unfamiliar dashboard. The jeep had reeked of Stiles, of junk food and sweat and a little like the cheap cherry-scented pine tree he had looped over the rear-view mirror. This car still smells new, fake leather and plastic, with the faintest undercurrent of boy.

“Left it with Scott,” Stiles says easily, sliding the key home and turning the ignition. It doesn’t even fight him for it. “It wouldn’t have made the trip.”

That was true enough. Derek watches the parking lot disappear from view, relaxing into his seat more and more as the minutes pass. Derek is tired. It's been days since he's felt safe enough to catch more than a few hours of sleep in his shitty car, head propped uncomfortably against the window. Here, with Stiles next to him, Derek’s body is finally beginning to cave in to the need for sleep.

He makes himself stay awake for awhile, long enough for Stiles to flick the radio over to some generic top 40’s station. He keeps it quiet, occasionally mouthing along to the words, but never once getting loud enough to be offensive. The third time that Derek jerks himself out of a light doze, Stiles turns to him incredulously and says, “For god’s sake, just go to sleep. I knew what I was signing up for when I saw those bags under your eyes.”

(or)

The first time that Rey sees her brother practice the art, she is being fitted for her wedding dress.

He is not strictly speaking supposed to be in the room with them, but none of the servants have quite worked out how to tell him to leave, and Rey doesn’t care one way or another herself. From her understanding, seeing the bride before the wedding makes for a bad match. It brings misfortune on the future household. Bad crops. Dead cattle. Some tales even say that it leads to an empty womb.

Let them be unlucky, Rey thinks with a sniff.

Her brother is reading, half-reclined on the settee to the left of the door, his leg crossed at the knee. It’s been well over an hour since he’s moved to do anything more strenuous than turn a page. Whatever lies within the book's pages has captivated him thoroughly, his mouth having gone ever so slightly slack as he mouths words to himself, black eyes intent.

The sun is beginning to set, the room growing long with shadows around them.

Rey is watching him when her brother flicks his wrist lazily, still absorbed in his book, and calls a ribbon of scarlet flame to the palm of his hand. It winds itself lovingly between his fingers, circling around and around his wrists, like some lazy beast.

Startled, Rey’s breath catches in her chest. Blinking, her brother looks up, catching her eye over the flame, the red glow casting him in a devilish light.

He cocks his head, and she wonders at his expression, the curiosity there as he unravels the flame outward, letting it find the wicks of the fat, ivory candles on the desk next to him. He quirks an eyebrow at her.

The room is still half in darkness, the last of the fading sunlight leaving them.

Rey licks her lips and steels her expression, flexing her fingers nervously before she raises her hands and cups them together. She doesn’t look away from him as she calls on her oldest friend, the familiar blue flame licking first over her knuckles and wrists, teasing, before it settles between her palms. She lights the rest of the room like that, and doesn’t pay any attention to the way the seamstress is fretting about Rey scorching the sleeves.

Her brother’s eyes are dark and intent on her, his book forgotten.

(or)

Rodney’s mark started out small, elegant slashes of color splashed across the meatiest part of his bicep. At the time, Rodney was six years old and didn’t much care for the idea of soulmates. There were cooler things than a bunch of blue paint on his arm, like black holes and the crowded, complicated mess of wiring inside his dad’s alarm clock. He’s going on nine when his mark changes, the familiar blues and greens and whites of sea and foam now a backdrop for the gleaming ferris wheel laid over top the waves, black lines on cool colors. He stares at it, lips pursed, and can’t for the life of him decide if he actually likes the new addition. When he’s thirteen the dark silhouette of a sleek, dangerous looking airplane is added to the mess. The plane itself is larger than the waves, larger than the ferris wheel, so long that the tip of it’s pointed nose touches the inside of his elbow. He grimaces at it, touching the curve of its broad back with one finger. It takes an hour of hunting through books at the library before he recognizes the shape of the SR-71 “Blackbird.” By the time Rodney’s fifteen, two more things have been added - a horse made out of shadows and edges, indistinct black smoke licking up the insides of his forearms and the mandelbrot set that sits neatly underneath it, an expanse of beautiful lines and inky dark that go clear down to his wrist. At fifteen years old, Rodney is significantly more interested in his soulmate than he was when he was six years old. He’s moved to America and is the top of his class at one of the most prestigious colleges in North America. He doesn’t like the majority of his peers and is beginning to realize that it’s entirely possible that he just doesn’t like people in general. He’s prickly, bad-tempered, and his ego has swelled to be the size of a small city. Whoever his soulmate is, she apparently likes the ocean, ferris wheels, planes, horses, and math. Rodney, who enjoys exactly one of those things, doesn’t have very high hopes.

Fic goals: I’m going to carefully not say anything about finishing the Sabriel AU, because that way lies madness. Instead I will say that in 2018 I would like to a) write something novel-length, b) write something original, and c) focus more on original characters. ....Additional goal: write over 60k.

#heather says what #heather writes #2017 #new year's memes #the year that became a meme

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