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carryonmywaywardcaptain · 3 years

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Imagine...finding out there’s fanfic written about you--and even Charlie ships you with Dean

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff? Crack? A dramatic fanfic within a fanfic that I got carried away with haha.

A/N: This is kind of ridiculous, but I had fun with it! Also, I’ve never actually seen GoT but it seemed like a reasonable reference from what I’ve heard about it.

“Hey, look who I found!” Sam’s voice echoed through the War Room.

Dean glanced at you from across the table in the library, sharing your surprised expression as you both pushed your chairs away and stood.

“‘Sup, bitches?” Charlie grinned, making her way up the steps toward you.

“Hey! We were expecting you guys to come in through the main door. We’ve been keeping an ear out.”

Charlie stepped into your outstretched arms and pulled you into a tight hug. “It was a spur of the moment decision, but I decided to stick around a day or two longer than planned! Sam said I could go ahead and park in the garage.”

She let go of you and turned to give Dean a hug too. He smiled softly with a look that was uniquely reserved for her, cradling the back of her head while she pressed her cheek against his.

“Good to see you, Charlie. You know you’re always welcome to stay as long as you want.”

An involuntary smile crept onto your face as you watched them. You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at the low rumble in his voice when he said her name. There was an undeniable protectiveness in his tone when he spoke to her--the sister he’d never wanted, as he affectionately called her.

When you shifted your attention to her, you noticed she was watching you. Before you could decipher the knowing glint in her eye, she suddenly twisted out of his arms and glanced back and forth between you and Dean. She began swinging her arms awkwardly before opting to cross them over her chest.

“You okay?” Dean asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah! Of course...Totes chill...cooler than a pack of peppermints.” She bobbed her head and flashed a nervous smile, twisting her hair around her finger as she struggled to act nonchalant. “It’s just that I remembered something. A story I read a while back--completely random. Totally unrelated to anything--I mean, now I’m starting to ramble. Hah! So how’ve you guys been? Still saving the world from evil sons-of-bitches?”

“Uh, yeah…” Sam answered, scrunching his eyebrows together. “We stay busy.”

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you piped up, changing the subject.

You were hoping to avoid swapping monster stories for a night. Charlie typically assumed the role of introducing you to popular and noteworthy fandoms during her visits to the bunker and, even if the boys weren’t as vocal, the three of you appreciated her knowledge of all things geeky and nerdy.

“I was thinking Marvel. Y/N, you’re obviously well-versed in the MCU because of your obsession with Steve Rogers--and, you know, clearly you’ve got a thing for the strong, righteous, self-sacrificing hero type. Dean, you could stand to branch out from the Batman references and, Sam, you’ve got this whole Thor kind of vibe going on.”

While Sam and Dean began teasing each other and arguing over “Batman versus Thor,” you gaped at Charlie, wondering what she’d meant by her remark about you having a “type.” You couldn’t help feeling like she was trying to insinuate something, but you shrugged it off and decided maybe it was all in your head.

***

After getting Charlie settled into one of the extra bedrooms, the four of you settled into the Dean Cave and agreed to start with the first Captain America movie.

Last Christmas, you and Sam had teamed up to surprise Dean with a couch for the Dean Cave. He had originally only had two La-Z-boy recliners and you’d found him fast asleep in the stiff old chairs on more than one occasion. Dean had been over the moon about the extra seating and the three of you had rearranged the furniture so the recliners were angled toward the tv on either side of the couch.

“Dibs on this side of the couch!” Charlie said, diving toward the furthest end from the door.

Although it was subtle, you knew there was still something off about the way Charlie studied all of you. There was definitely something on her mind she was trying to keep hidden from all of you.

“You know, we should probably have some snacks,” you said slowly. “Charlie, you want to come help me grab some stuff from the kitchen?”

“But I’m already comfy in my spot.” She frowned, wiggling her hips to make a point of sinking deeper into the spot she’d claimed on the couch. “Why don’t you have Dean help you?”

When you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, Sam cleared his throat. “Dean, why don’t I help you grab some snacks while Y/N and Charlie...catch up, er, whatever…”

You heard the boys leave the room and waited until their footsteps faded down the hall before you started interrogating her.

“Alright, Charlie--what the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” she muttered, scrolling through her phone.

“Bull. We lie for a living and I know there’s something you’re not telling us. So spill.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Okay, so remember the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund?”

“Yeah…”

“The series obviously kind of had a cult following when it was in print, right? Well ever since the unpublished works got uploaded, the following has really taken off. Every once in a while a new one still pops up and the fans love them. And you’re in them now too!”

“I’m...what?”

“I mean it’s just insane and totally got sucked into it too. It’s brought on this whole new wave of fanfiction--”

“What’s fanfiction?” you cut in, struggling to keep up.

“It’s fiction made by the fans about the series. Sometimes they put themselves in the stories and write about working cases and fighting monsters with you guys--”

“Why would anyone want to pretend to do this crap with their lives?”

She stared at you for a moment and frowned. “Because you guys are heroes. I mean, yeah, there’s the whole depressing side of monsters and death and trauma and world-ending apocalypses--but you guys save people. You go on these exciting adventures of good versus evil and a lot of times you win. You save people. The fans really look up to all of you.”

Your gaze fell to the floor as you let her words sink in, but she didn’t give you long before she was rambling again.

“But that’s not even the best part! Everyone ships different OTPs--” she paused, noticing your puzzled expression “--uh, one true pairing… So everyone has a favorite couple they think are soulmates and belong together. There’s stories about Sam with Eileen or Jess, Dean with different people--you get the gist. Sometimes they even make up characters or do these ‘reader inserts’ and imagine themselves with the boys or you but, hands down, everyone’s favorite couple they want to end up together is you and Dean.”

“...what?”

Your eyes grew wide. It was hard enough to wrap your mind around the fact that strangers who didn’t know you were a real person were reading about your life, but learning they imagined you in different relationships? You’d never admit it out loud, but had it bad for Dean. And hearing you weren’t the only one that wanted the two of you together...

“I’ve gone deep into the fic and I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner!” Charlie shook you from your thoughts. “You and Dean are perfect for each other. For serious. I usually stick to the fluffy stuff because, you know, your entire life is kind of angsty and I don’t like to read about you guys being in pain or, like, dying...again. Although I definitely have to admit I kind of stumbled into some of the smutty stuff and, wow, that was something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, but she kept rolling.

“Right, you probably don’t know what that means either. Fluff is the cute stuff that gives us all feels, angst is kind of just what it sounds like, and smut is, well...the sexy stuff.”

“You mean people out there in the world write about me and Dean…”

“Going at it like an episode of Game of Thrones? Oh yeah,” she responded, unlocking her phone. “Here. Here’s an example.”

Swallowing audibly, you took a seat next to her on the couch as she extended her phone toward you. Gnawing your bottom lip, you began reading the words on the screen:

Y/N took a deep breath, holding it in briefly before she exhaled and began walking toward Dean’s room. Ever since they returned from the hunt, Dean had hidden himself away in his room--no doubt blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong.

When she arrived at his door, she raised her hand to knock. She hesitated, almost retreating at the thought of him turning her away, but she had to try. She had to get through to him somehow.

She rapped her knuckles on the raw umber barrier and opened the door of Room 11 before he could tell her to go away.

She spotted him leaning over the sink, staring at his reflection in the medicine cabinet on the wall. His jade eyes flickered to where she stood in the doorway, their reflection somewhat distorted by cracks that spiderwebbed from where he had struck the mirror.

Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she imagined him lashing out, knowing he punched the mirror because he hated the reflection staring back at him. Knowing he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when he didn’t need to.

Y/N carefully shut the door and locked it behind her--the click of the deadbolt deafening in the silence. Her eyes never left Dean, who refused to turn and face her. She inched toward him, closing the distance until she could reach out and touch him. Gently placing her hand on his shoulder, she guided him to turn away from the mirror. Still, he refused to meet her eyes.

“Dean…” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper as she cupped his face in her hands. “It’s not your fault.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, face contorting with grief and guilt. The ghosts of his past refused to let him go, but she was determined to make him believe that he was worthy, no matter the cost.

Curling a finger beneath his chin, she tilted his head up, waiting patiently for him to meet her gaze. When his dark green orbs finally met hers, she was surprised to see that they were full of longing and desire. They flickered to her lips, making her breath tremble under the intensity of his gaze. Time seemed to slow until it froze altogether.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as they both struggled against their desire to maintain the friendship they’d always had and the desperate need to finally cross that line. To succumb to the magnetic pull that had always been evident between the two of them.

Dean swallowed thickly before suddenly rushing forward, crashing his lips to Y/N’s as he pulled her into a searing kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around her, trapping her to his chest, afraid it was all a dream and she would soon disappear. But she gladly melted into his embrace, feeling like she was finally returning home, to a place she’d spent her life searching for.

A moan slipped past her lips as he walked her backward, pressing her up against the wall. She gasped, feeling his--

“The snacks have arrived!”

You jumped in surprise, a small gasp of surprise escaping as the boys appeared with armloads of snacks. Confusion and worry painted Dean’s face as he surveyed your flustered expression. Between his scrutinizing gaze and the content you’d practically been caught reading, your cheeks grew warm.

“Did I miss something?” Dean asked.

“Nope,” you responded much too quickly.

Charlie’s phone had fallen into your lap and, when she began cackling, you whipped your head in her direction and flung the phone at her thigh. You grimaced and the two of you had your own silent conversation as the boys spread the food across the bar Dean had built on the far wall.

“I was just telling Y/N how pumped I am about seeing my favorite OTP tonight,” she giggled.

“Your...what?”

Dean’s arm brushed yours as he plopped down on the other side of you. The accidental contact sent a wave of chills over your skin, making you shudder. You could feel his eyes on you again, but you refused to look at him.

“Oh, I’m so going down with this ship,” Charlie whispered under her breath before continuing in a louder voice. “Nothing--nevermind! Don’t mind me, just thinking out loud...”

“It says here an OTP means...one true pairing?” Your eyes grew wide as you looked to where Sam was reading his phone from where he sat in one of the recliners. “So, uh, ‘in the fandom realm, OTP refers to the coupling of characters--usually from the sci-fi or fantasy genres--by fans who think they make a great romantic duo and envision their lives together and share their imaginings with other fans.’”*

Charlie doubled over, beside herself with laughter. With your lips pressed into a firm line, you glanced at the boys to gauge their reactions. You knew there was no way they could possibly know what you and Charlie had been talking about, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about what Dean might think if he ever found out about the feelings you harbored for him.

“So...you’re looking forward to Cap and his girl in the movie? I’m so freaking confused,” Dean grumbled.

“Yeah…” Sam agreed, making his way to the tv. “I’m just, uh...I’m gonna start the movie now.”

“Good idea.” Charlie peered at you out of the corner of her eye. “Plenty of time to read and talk about all those ships later.”

Although you glared at her, trying to hide your amusement, nothing could deter the smug smile etched upon her face. As Sam turned the lights off and you settled in for another relaxing night with your favorite people, one thing was certain:

You were definitely going to have to take another look at that fanfiction.

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms @amanda-teaches @cosicas-cuquis @crist1216 @droidyouseek @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @flawless-disaster @janeyboo @jenn0755 @ksgeekgirl @maresmiley @memyselfandmaddox @notyourtypicalrose @randomparanoid @rynabarnesrogers @sandlee44 @scarletsoldierrr @shann-the-artist-moon @sheerioasteroidpanda @shynara51 @someday-when-you-leave-me @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @thisismysecrethappyplace @torntaltos @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @weebid @whimsicalrobots @wintersoldierbaby @wintersoldierissucharide @yesfanficsaremylife

Cap’s SPN Crew:

@adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @alexwinchester23 @chevyharvelle @deangirl7695 @dean-winchesters-bacon @fandomoniumflurry @pisces-cutie @supernaturalenchanted @superromijn @waywardnerd67 @x-waywardaf-x

#supernatural imagine #spn imagine #dean winchester imagine #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fluff #dean x read #dean x y/n

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sorcerersofnyc · 3 years

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The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 9/9 - The Epilogue

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife’s friend and his friend’s wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Part Nine: You Carry On

Angst, brief allusions to sex, I use Serbian Cyrillic as a stand-in for Sokovian.

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won’t say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

You watch him go.

You watch him leave you once again— watch him go off into some dark, unknown future you can never be a part of.

And it hurts.

It hurts to know how much you’ll miss him, hurts to think you'll never see him again.

You take a deep breath (and another and another and another) but the pain only spreads faster as dread closes in all around you.

You feel lost in it, drowned by it, changed by it—but you won’t surrender to it. You’ve walked this road before and you know the way forward. So you take a step, then another, and you turn away from the outside world with a heavy, ragged breath.

The kitchen is far too cheery now. The sun streams inside through the open curtains, and the smell of coffee lingers in the air. Helmut washed the dishes before he left, leaving only his favorite mug behind. It stares at you from its place on the countertop, its dark ceramic gleaming in the light.

You don’t feel your knees buckle or your hands shake, you don’t feel the mangled sob rising up from your chest, you don’t feel the tears that gather at the corner of your eyes and pour down your cheeks like heavy rain.

Your body lurches forward. You reach out to steady yourself but somehow manage to knock the mug over instead. It strikes the title with a sickening clink that echoes through the air.

It chips, but it doesn't shatter. The coffee spills from the mouth and spreads fans out in every direction, staining the tiles on the floor.

Helmut would never know you chipped his favorite mug—but you cry about it anyway.

You cry for the life you could have had together, one where you dumped the stale remnants of his coffee every morning, one where your first kiss wasn’t also the last, one where he held you every day, and you healed your hearts together instead of apart.

You cried because your feelings had no place else to go.

Time passes.

You’re alright; you don’t break, or bend, or toil beneath the weight of your grief. The world moves forward, and so do you:

Anežka returns. (“How was the Baron?” She asks you. “We’re the two of you able to… become familiar with one another?” You wish.)

You learn Helmut was taken to the raft. (You order his affairs and have his things sent over to him.)

Sam Wilson becomes Captain America. (He gives a speech that inspires the world to do better.)

The Flag Smashers are killed in a car bombing. (‘No suspects as of yet,’ the report says and your heart tightens at the thought of who might have been responsible.)

You carry on.

You receive a package in the mail one day, a thick brochure from The Raft outlining the specifics of a Prison Work Rehabilitation Program.

The front photo was disturbingly picturesque, framing the facility as less of a prison and more like a seaside resort.

'Propaganda,’ you think as you flip through the glossy pages. The program is endorsed by some guy named Thaddeus Ross. You think he was a general or a secretary or something but you aren’t quite sure.

The back of the brochure displays an image of a happy family reuniting and you roll your eyes. Prisoners on the Raft don’t get to go home to their families.

You toss the brochure away without a second thought.

A few weeks later, you’re sent flowers after an art show. It’s a beautiful arrangement; twelve thick-stemmed roses wrapped in gold foil.

It adds a classic touch to the modern look of the Visiting Artists’ Office, standing out amongst the dark tables and chairs. But it’s the card that catches your attention; it was left completely blank.

You aren’t sure how you feel about having a secret admirer but you take the flowers home regardless. They’d look nice in a vase near the window, the bright reds mixing with the autumn leaves.

The trip home is short and uneventful and you thank your driver on the way to the door.

You slide your house slippers on and are surprised to see Anežka’s pink one’s by the door as well. You can hear her in the kitchen, opening and closing the doors of the pantry as the air grows warm with the spices of her favorite tea.

“Anežka,” You call out, “I’m home!”

You set the flowers on a side table, barely conscious of the soft footsteps trailing in from the kitchen till Anežka sets her mug down on the coffee table.

“Look what I’ve got. A 'secret admirer’ sent them. Should we put them here or downstairs?” You take an artful picture of the arrangement.

“Neither is a wholly appropriate place.”

You freeze.

Your mind draws blank as it fails to process the words you heard someone other than Anežka speak.

You turn around quickly, knocking the flowers off the table as you do.

“Helmut?” Your voice lowers as a million feelings bubble up inside of you. They threaten to explode.

Helmut is there—right there—dressed in nothing but a bathrobe and his house slippers with a cat-like smile stretched across his handsome features.

He strides forward with confidence, stopping so close you nearly reel back.

“These are special flowers, драга, brought all the way from Ecuador.” He kneels before you, the hem of his robe splitting at the knee to offer a very seductive glimpse of his thigh.

He reaches around you, grabs the fallen bouquet, and sets them gingerly on the table as he stands. “We should place these in your bedroom so you may admire them every night.”

“What’s happening?” You finally manage to ask him, “what’s going on?”

“I’m home,” Helmut teases, speaking as though you failed to notice his soft brown eyes, his damp hair, or the heat that surges between you as he stands close enough to touch, to kiss if you wanted.

He brushes a hand against your cheek.

“Helmut,” you whisper again, but your voice is stern and more controlled this time. “How are you here? You’re supposed to be in Raft.” Despite your words, you lean a little closer, resting both hands against his chest, near the opening of his robe.

“It seems someone of great influence decided my sentence was better served outside the walls of the prison.”

“Like civil service?” You ask, but then you remember the brochure you received in the mail— the propaganda, or so you believed. “Or… Prison Work Rehabilitation?”

“Something like that. There’s a team,” he makes a flippant gesture with his hand before bringing it to rest on the curve of your hip. “Though I needed time to address the matter of my… financial limitations.”

“Limitations?”

“Of course.” He pulls you closer, encircling you in his arms. “The holder of my assets is quite a formidable woman. I thought it best to pay her a visit, to request access to the full extent of my resources. As stubborn as she is, I assume it will take a great many visits.”

“That would be wise,” You nod slowly, a wide smile coming to your face.

“I can’t be with you always, драга,” he tells you, “but I will be here.”

And you don’t quite remember what you promise in reply (or if you promised anything at all) because he kisses you.

Your fingers slide down his chest, brushing past his chest hair and the little charm he wears around his neck.

You don’t know how long you stay there, kissing, and sighing, and melting in the arms of the man you love, but you’re vaguely aware of being walked back against the wall, of the front door opening and closing at some point, and of Anežka pausing by the threshold, groceries in hand.

“Anežka,” He greets her, but his dark and hungry gaze lingers on you, only you.

“Hello, Baron… It’s good to see you.” Her voice waivers, but the sentiment is real. “M-Miss,” she nods in your direction.

“Hi, Anežka.” You’re not quite sure what to say.

“Why don’t you take a few days off?” Helmut suggests, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care of things here.”

“O-of course, Baron—Thank you.” Anežka glances between you one more time before setting the bags down near the door. “Good luck, Miss!” She calls out before leaving.

And as her footsteps grow quiet and hush in the distance, his eyes meet yours and his kiss finds its home upon your lips.

(And later when Helmut comes undone beneath your gaze and the rocking of your hips against his, you bring him home once again.)

And he keeps coming home to you.

***

And so we've reached the end. Thanks so much for reading! I appreciate all the support. This was my first fanfic in many years and I'm glad I could bring it to a close.

The end is a bit of wishful thinking on my part but I wanted to end on a happy note.

I'll probably write one or two bonuschapter that's basically just smut. So if you're 18+ and would like to remain on the taglist (or be added,) just let me know!

Taglist:

@actuallyanita, @fillechatoyante, @viviace, @buckyandlokicanhaveme, @sapphiredreamer26, @robur-bellicum, @apparrio

#Zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #mcu zemo #reader x zemo

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petra-realsnk · 3 years

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Rivetra fanfic (divergence au)

Hello guys! I’ve finally finished the first chapter of my first fanfic ever. I must warn you this is just an introduction that sets the premise for what’s coming next, so the pacing will be quite fast in this one. I preferred to do it this way so you won’t have to wait too long for their interactions to happen. I also apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes since English isn’t my first language. This was quite hard to do! I changed some details of the list I posted a couple days ago because I felt it would work better this way.

This story will rely a lot on the blanks left by Isayama when dealing with Petra and Levi’s relationship, giving these characters a chance to reflect about the nature of their connection, responsability, and the pain of those things which just cannot be (the drama will be served lol). I will also be uploading it on AO3 later on.

Warnings: depictions of violence, angst, sadness or anguish.

All the characters belong to Hajime Isayama.

Tagging: @mikamoony thanks for the support!

Digging up a grave (Chapter 1)

After the resounding failure of the 57th expedition, the troops of the survey corps retreat hastily towards the shelter of the walls. Humanity has only recently learned about the existence of intelligent titans, of unexpected human nature, although even more surprises remain hidden on the abandoned battlefield... ( 2617 words)

She never reached:

After so many years fighting, he had grown used to the feeling of having every part of his body active, the tingling blood through his limbs and the acceleration of his perception. In such a tense moment, the sound of the chariot wheels became unconsciously annoying, increasing his anxiety. It was a monotonous and stable noise, almost as much as the danger to which they were constantly subjected. Unfortunately, however, not frantic enough to keep them away from the rumbling of gigantic footsteps dangerously approaching them. It didn't take much reasoning to figure out that getting rid of their fallen comrades was the most effective way to increase their speed and save themselves. However, it took him a moment to vocalize the decision. There was something about it that felt wrong, as if he was repeating his mistake by leaving them behind. Somehow, it comforted him to know that with that decision he was valuing their sacrifice, for he couldn't let their deaths lead to more casualties. After exchanging several shouts, the tail boards opened, dropping those bodies whose rescue had already posed a considerable risk.

If the sound of the carts already sapped their weary minds, now it was added the dreadful crash of their friends against the ground, some of them to be eaten by the titans, others to be crushed and forgotten in the same place they went to find their freedom but instead found their deaths.

Levi tried uselessly to take his gaze away from that sight, he knew it was his job to supervise his soldiers, but his eyes couldn't help searching for her silhouette in each covered figure. He remembered in detail where he had placed her, how he had tied her shroud and tried to keep her badge for himself... So when her body fell, accidentally revealing flocks of strawberry blonde hair, he was there this time, looking at her once more. Levi felt his stomach drop as if a ball of air had suddenly fallen from his constipated chest. Soon the chariots were able to increase their speeds, distancing them forever, and leaving him with the certainty that now he’ll never know.

---

Hidden in the forest were some still unknown figures. Among them Zeke, whose power had allowed him to approach the battlefield safely. The traitors of humanity had been undercover in the army for several years, but he still felt the need to test the waters for himself, in order to decide how they were going to carry out their next plan. He knew that Annie was in danger, and that Reiner and Bertolt’s identities were soon to be discovered. To his surprise, he found himself in the ideal situation to test out Marley's new weapon. He had brought the silver box with the hope that something similar would happen, but not so incredibly suitable. According to the army leaders, this new product would be able to resurrect and turn corpses into pure titans. This could be a great advantage, since they would be able to profit their soldiers for a little longer. Besides, Paradis was the right place to carry out the experiment on a larger scale without major expense; they wouldn't need ammunition to kill the transformed nor almost any type of security measure (if carried out by someone like Zeke). He just had to wait for the troops to move away and hopefully find some almost complete remains of Eldian soldiers.

He used the scream of his beast titan to stop the nearest pure ones, this way he made sure no more corpses were being eaten nearby, plus making it safe for him to approach them in his human form.

Soon after, Zeke found himself in the middle of a large clearing in the forest, covered in blood and stained white fabrics, revealing what until not long ago would have been humans, although the passage of the titans had left another impression.

Walking among the horrid sight and by seeing the placement of the bodies, he quickly deduced what could have happened. The titans who until recently feasted were now immobile due to his control. Near one of their huge feet, Zeke finds a body whose bones were totally shattered, especially his back, although it remained in one piece. One bare arm revealed a small, pale-skinned hand with the marks of a bite. He quickly noticed it was a young woman, though his face remained unaffected by the sorrowful sight. After a few moments, he raised his gaze from the ground and continued his way in search of complete victims. The sun began to set as Zeke paced, unaffected by the intimidating presence of the titans, luckily finding six more bodies that could be useful. After having deliberated on the state of all of them, he decided which ones were the most likely to become functional beasts. He placed them at a relative distance from each other, facing down, and opened the cold gray box with four syringes. He prepared them all at once, and took a defeated sigh.

With a relative dose of nervousness, he injected all four bodies as fast as he could, hoping to take the necessary time before they transformed. Unfortunately, when injecting the third body, it hatched immediately, having to flee quickly after only being able to transform three.

In the next few moments he watched as the first titan manifested in a very unstable form. Despite his transformation, he had not managed to regenerate his left arm and one of his legs, which left him lying on the ground. The next one was better, at about 3 or 4 meters high, he could walk despite having slight asymmetries. Finally, the first body injected gave rise to a titan with reddish hair and whose stability was quite doubtful as well. It was clear that her broken back had not managed to regenerate fully, remaining twisted. Despite this, what at one point was Petra Ral herself managed to get up off the ground and move. Seeing such failures Zeke could not help but sigh again, doubting the effectiveness of this discovery.

The experiment had only half worked. It wasn’t really useful to create a functional army, although it could restore the life of some would-be titan shifter. In any case, these creatures, whose peace had just been disrupted, were now problem of the survey corps, or at least that’s what he thought…

---

It would be difficult to say if any aspect of her consciousness ever awakened. Her skin burned, and even though her eyes were open her mind remained black. The creature struggled toward the forest, occasionally stumbling through the trees, causing it no pain or frustration. Some aspect of her, however, was still present. As when one is about to fall asleep and has the sensation of suddenly plunging, Petra would not stop falling. Perhaps it was a loop of her lasts seconds: the lack of gravity and the air leaving her body. What happened in a single instant had turned into a thick mass that occupied her mind all the time. She remained in that limbo until a depression in the ground made her fall into a ditch, being covered by some bushes, product of the humidity of the area.

The sunlight barely penetrated the foliage, leaving her misshapen body useless. Surprisingly, something about her state came to affect her ... The coldness of the shadow and the shelter of the earth briefly embraced her as she relived her nightmares.

There she laid, indifferent to the passage of time, until suddenly something appeared before her. Among the undergrowth, the titan saw the figure of a woman dragging a smoking limbless body and gently laying it on the ground, near the ditch's entrance. Unaware of the titan's presence, Pieck tried to catch her breath before rejoining the Marleyan fleet. They had managed to exterminate much of the Eldian army, but Reiner, Zeke and Porco were on the brink of death, and they had lost the colossal titan too. She had spent a long time transformed, and her injuries had also forced her to take a break in her human form. Right now, they were especially vulnerable, and Pieck could only pray that she could regain her strength and transform again. She then took several steps away to see how the regeneration of her other two companions was going, and in a matter of seconds, the previously invisible titan catapulted from her hiding place, devouring Porco completely.

Pieck had not yet regained all of her strength, and she could only stare in horror at the result of her mistake. When the shock left her body, she grabbed her companions by their collars and tried to drag them as far as she could, even though they were twice her size. Luckily for them, the titan's physical problems and her unevenness prevented her from rising. Pieck's observant nature made her immediately aware of it, and she thought that perhaps she could wait there for it to regain its human form to devour the lost titan again. However, there would still be more titans around them, and it was a priority now to protect her remaining friends. Perhaps thanks to the adrenaline of the moment she managed to transform, took her companions between her jaws and escaped from that place. Pieck knew that retreating was the safest option for the moment, and it eased her mind to think that the survey corps weren’t likely to find the titan before them. And if they did, it would fall back into their hands soon enough.

---

She took a sudden gasp that woke her up. Her breathing was uneven, and her senses betrayed her. As the heat of the late afternoon sun touched her smoky skin, Petra had the sensation of having awakened from a long nightmare that she could not quite remember. When she finally half-opened her eyes she felt relieved, but within seconds she fell asleep again. She remained there for hours, torn between lethargy and consciousness. Little by little, the consciousness of "self" returned to her, but she couldn’t help feeling that now there was someone else…

Her dreams sharpened, and the moments of her awakening became clearer. At some point Petra thought that maybe she was resting injured on some makeshift base. The night fell on her and she began to feel the cold on her naked body, making her revisit her dreams once again. The dew of dawn was not long in coming, waking her from her visions. For a moment, in the orange light, she wondered to whom that cup belonged, to whom she was speaking, what was that emotion that felt warm in her chest but cold in her arms...

Suddenly, the hum of metal pulleys brought her back to life.

Flying over the trees there was a small crew of the survey corps, following an 8-meter titan that was coming towards her. In the blink of an eye, the creature collapsed on the ground without giving Petra time to identify the situation she was in.

The recovery of Maria Wall had resulted in the almost total extinction of the brigade, but such a victory for humanity and the secrets discovered had pushed some members of the military police to join them, making it possible to carry out modest expeditions near the walls, exterminating the titans that didn't get close enough to be eliminated from the other side. Leading this team was commander Hange Zoë, who had taken over after Erwim's death. She along with Levi were in charge of leading a small group made up of some members of the 104th and a few newbies.

Among the survivors of the last battle was Jean Kristein, who was the first to notice her presence. When he saw the young naked woman lying on the ground, he stopped in his tracks, watching her for a few seconds without being able to believe his eyes. He then threw a black flare, which immediately caught the attention of his companions, who came to help him. Unable to hide the stupor in his expression Jean yelled at Hange "Commander, there’s a human lying on the ground with shifter marks!"

Hearing this, Levi who had not yet changed the course of his trajectory made a violent turn fearing the worst. Seconds later the new recruits followed, visibly terrified of the finding, yet ready for battle.

When Hange landed on the tree Jean was anchored, she was completely paralyzed. "This can't be true ..." After a few moments, she quickly threw herself to ground level, while Jean followed her fearing a surprise attack. The reaction continued in a chain after seeing the reckless action of the commander. They were still trying to digest Erwin's death, and Levi was quick to yell Hange to get away from the suspicious figure.

Hange by then was completely bent over Petra's body, "Hey, Petra, is it really you? Can you hear me? What happened?" Jean was slightly further back, a little calmer after deducing that it was an acquaintance, although he didn’t understand how. The way they were arranged covered her up, so when Levi reached the ground he couldn’t see her face at first, but felt slightly disappointed that the legs he saw couldn't be Zeke’s... Hange kept muttering an impossible amount of questions to the woman. Levi proceeded to approach her more calmly after realizing that she couldn’t move.

"Hey Hange, could you tell me what-". He froze in a way he probably never did before.

For a few instances his mind seemed to disassociate from what he was seeing. He recognized her face, but was unable to connect the information that reached him. A horrible sense of relief and guilt engulfed him, leaving him expressionless before Petra's immobile anatomy.

The girl was lying on her side, visibly weakened from having spent God knows how long in the open. Her face looked tired and sad, and her eyes were framed by the marks of her transformation. It was obvious that Petra had been turned into a titan, although this should have happened after her death, something they discovered was possible in that exact moment. Not that Levi wasn't happy to see her, but the guilt of seeing her fall victim to this conflict once again was greater. Her body had been left outside the walls and now she had been forced to return to this hell, through a power that would force her to die once again soon. Once Levi came back to reality, he unbuttoned his cloak and put it over her uncovered torso. Hange had never paid much attention to decorum, much less when something fascinated her, and the other cadets did not dare to approach. Petra’s honey eyes fell on him, and he could feel that it was her, even though she was not quite there ... It was almost impossible to believe that he was seeing her, covered with the cloak that he hadn’t been able to get rid of even after changing their uniforms, decorated with the same wings that he had plucked from her badge that day.

"Petra” He said in disbelief “Can you hear us? ..."

"Hmn ..." She managed to pronounce.

Hange screamed with excitement once she saw Petra was finally responding. They immediately brought the horses so they could finally return her inside the walls. The sound of her voice had brought Levi back to his senses, who was already taking care of ordering their retreat. Perhaps he could give her father different news from that time… But what would he tell him exactly? He knew perfectly well that his daughter was now in a limbo, carrying a curse.

#digging up a grave #rivetra #rivapeto #levi x petra #levi ackerman #petra ral #snk fanfiction #rivetra fanfic #writing #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot au #aotedit

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arysthaeniru · 3 years

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aAAA the joy of seeing an update on your current favorite fanfic is just aAAA

I always felt that kiwami 1s Nishiki was just a bit too,, I dont know how to describe it; but essentially he just felt off, granted yakuza 1 is a product of its time and therefore the plot is a bit dated and whack as all hell

The way you write Nishiki just feels so much better and realistic; in the original he just seems so uncaring towards Kiryu? which just feels kinda OOC? You'd think he still cares about Kiryu despite it all, especially when you take Yakuza 0 into consideration; and i feel like you portray Nishiki much more accurately

I never thought much about Yumi, because honestly, in the original she was kinda just, there? You actually made her a very interesting person! like I'm actually invested in her in your story! (side note you ever think about her clone who got tortued and died? yeah who WAS that???? thats never brought up is it??)

Theres so much more to talk about but in short; This is the best fix it/rewrite of a game plot I have read to date and it brings me joy in my current stressful school life. and no I will not stop praising it or the author, because this work has made me very happy. ;)

I just have a gift for picking favorites that end up dying,,aand another favorite of mine is Mine

imo theres a lack of soft, reassuring Minedai, i just feel like he'd need a reminder that people love him as a person and not just for the money he can provide, even if its obvious

I'd love to see how you'd write them, but I understand if theres more interesting/appealing drabble requests!

- Carp

CARP, thank you for this <3 this is so sweet!!!!! I’m so happy you enjoy my Nishiki! I had fun playing with what Yakuza 0/the Kiwami additions gave us about Nishiki’s personality and outlook on the world, and trying to reconcile that with the plot that Yakuza 1 initially had. Ultimately, I fell on the side that you did: even if Nishiki’s ambition took him down a monstrous path, I don’t think he’s the sort of person who neglects to pay back his debts. And he’s aware of the huge debt he owes Kiryu. Not to mention, their bonds of trust and love vanishing completely because of jealousy felt unreal to me. Their relationship becoming twisted or strange? Yes, but vanishing entirely felt unsatsifying to me.

And Yumi!! I had so much fun excavating her character from the clues we get of her in canon. I worry sometimes, that she’s unrecognizable, because you know, I’ve given her a college education, and a whole bunch of interests beyond hostessing alone, but people seem to like it and like her, which is great!! I hate fridging women characters, so keeping her and Reina alive was important to me, hahaha. (RE: fake!Mizuki, there’s this substory in Kiwami that actually addresses who she was, BUT IT’S EVEN MORE HORRIFYING. So that’s why Yumi in my fic is the one captured and tortured by Nishiki’s men, because the thought of this poor innocent woman getting dragged into the mess was just untenable to me.)

Anyway, thank you for your support and kind words, and I hope you’ll continue to read and that my fic can continue to relieve stress. I--tried to write this about Mine, but Daigo kind of stole the spotlight a little??? I hope you still like it--if not, I will try a ficlet from Mine’s perspective too. I enjoy minedai a lot, but I haven’t had room to think out their dynamic yet, so this took me a while.

Daigo’s no stranger to being desired. He’s attractive, he knows this—his mother’s beauty lives in his veins, and he’s always had the money to look after himself. Fancy soaps to wash his face, the invisible retainers to keep his teeth straight, fancy suits and skin-tight shirts to show off his frame. For all that Kiryu insists his charisma is something that comes from the soul, Daigo knows it wouldn’t be able to draw the sort of attention he does without being attractive.

Which is to say that Daigo’s not especially thrown off by the intensity of Mine’s gaze. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. The thing that surprises him is how much he relishes in being seen by Mine.

Maybe it’s because Mine’s an island in a stormy sea, one of the only yakuza his age who’s sensible and level-headed enough to make it big. Maybe it’s because Mine’s gaze is always so reserved, polite, never overly lusty or overstaying its welcome, and Daigo has so rarely been desired so quietly. Or maybe it’s because Majima and Kashiwagi so clearly disapprove of him—Daigo’s always been something of a rebel, and he hasn’t shaken that off, even now he’s in his thirties and is the arbiter of rules for the Tojo Clan.

Daigo can’t quite put a pin on why he’s so comfortable with Mine’s yearning looks, but he’s never been one to hold back when he wants to indulge in something good. Not exactly a hedonist, not by yakuza standards, but Daigo has never kept himself from enjoying life, in the name of some dubious ‘honour.’

Which is why, in an after-hours meeting with Mine, as they eat cheap takeout sushi together, Daigo takes his chance. A momentary slip, the slightest hint of wasabi left at the corners of Mine’s lips and Daigo swoops in, rubs a thumb over the corner of Mine’s lips. Mine stutters to a stop, mid-sentence through a rundown of the real-estate that the Hakuho Clan’s been purchasing up, and stares at Daigo, eyes bewildered.

“Sixth Chairman?” he asks, his voice still remarkably composed.

“Wasabi.” Daigo says, nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing, and sticks his thumb into his mouth, slowly licking it off with a lingering lave of his tongue. He feels a sharp stab of satisfaction as Mine’s eyes turn darker, and his gaze follows Daigo’s hand down.

Daigo straightens up, languidly, and cracks his neck, casually. At this point in the day, he’s untucked his shirt, and he knows that a slight strip of his stomach will be visible when he stretches out his arms towards the ceiling. And as predictably as clockwork, Mine’s gaze darts downwards, to that pale expanse, to catch that brief second of skin. Daigo can’t help but feel warm. Something about being watched by Mine is exhilarating.

“Smoke?” offers Daigo, but as usual, Mine refuses, with a polite shake of his head.

Daigo knows from hearsay that Mine’s something a health-freak, so he’s not entirely surprised. It’s already too late for Daigo to preserve his health—he knows that his liver’s already been pretty ruined from long nights of binge-drinking as a youth, and this job’s too stressful to withhold from vices like smoking and drinking, without an optimal end-goal. So he walks over to the window, cracks it open a little, and lights up.

The breath of nicotine curls over his body, a tender caress, and Daigo feels his shoulders drop, as the relaxation hits. He pulls off his cufflinks, tosses them into his pockets and rolls up his sleeves. He takes it slow, runs his fingers over his skin a little more than strictly necessary. Surreptitiously checking the reflection in the window, Daigo watches Mine watch him, and smirks at how intense that gaze is, how Mine’s mouth has opened, and Daigo can just see the soft pink of his tongue.

“Dojima’s just fine, you know. When it’s just us two.” Daigo says, turning over his shoulder. He smiles, one of those charming smiles that had always gotten him whatever he wanted as a child, “We’re same-aged friends, after all.”

“Dojima-san.” Mine acknowledges, after a brief pause.

Daigo turns around, to properly look at Mine and lifts an eyebrow. “Dojima. Or Daigo, preferably. Dojima-san’s always my father in my head.”

Mine nods, face impassive. Daigo can’t read him like this. Maybe that’s why he likes when Mine stares at him, filled with longing. At least then, Daigo feels like he knows him. In moments like these, his implacable gazes might as well be a brick wall. “Right. Your Father was also in the Tojo Clan.”

Daigo smiles, wryly, and blows out a puff of smoke. “One of the most horrible men I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting—and I had to call him Father. But damn if he wasn’t good at the job.” He sighs and stubs the cigarette out against the ashtray. “...sometimes feel like I’m competing with his dead spirit. Everybody’s looking at me and wondering if this is what my Father would do. Or what Kiryu-san would do.”

“You’re doing better than any of them.” Mine says, immediately, with a vicious ferocity that Daigo wasn’t expecting. He can’t quite stop his eyebrows rising in surprise, and Mine straightens upwards, looking self-conscious immediately. Daigo regrets his instinctual reaction, immediately. “That is to say, Dojima, that I think that you’ve pulled this Clan into somewhere far more respectable. From what I’ve heard of your Father, he didn’t have the temperament to do proper business on this level—too insistent on formal obeisance and unable to be flexible as the times require. And Kiryu-san might be very honourable, but we are yakuza. There are certain things you have to do as a Chairman, that he couldn’t bring himself to do. But you are practical and do what is necessary, while also not overstepping into excessive violence. You are uniquely suited for this job, Dojima.”

...he’s taken aback a little, he can’t deny it. Daigo wonders if his cheeks are colouring, wonders if his obvious shock is offputting, wonders if this is how Mine feels every time Daigo teases him lightly about his obvious attraction. A startling warmth spreads through his chest, and Daigo can’t stop the slight smile that touches his face. Has anybody ever said something so unreservedly kind and measured about Daigo before?

Maybe this is the difference between everybody else’s gazes on him, and Mine’s gaze. It’s based on something more than desire alone. Respect.

Daigo runs a hand over his slicked-back hair and ruffles it free, with a rueful smile, a smile that he couldn’t take away from his face, even if he tried. “I appreciate that. You know I couldn’t do it without you, right?”

He’d never really believed himself capable of attraction to a man like Mine. All of his previous childhood crushes had been on bright, cheerful conversational, pure-hearted people. Daigo had always figured they would balance out his sardonic cynicism. He’d never thought someone as reserved and principled as Mine would ever make his heart flutter. But then, there was something about that deep hunger and passion that Daigo craved. Perhaps it was because he was no longer the gloomy punk of his youth. Maybe his tastes have changed towards tall, dark and handsome. Maybe Mine’s just that special.

“Dojima—” Mine says, clearly trying to refute it, but Daigo cuts him off.

“I mean it. Everybody in this fucking Clan wants me to do something or be somebody else. Kashiwagi-san wants me to be my mother. Majima-san wants me to be Kiryu-san. Everybody else expects my Father. But not you. You deal with me honestly, and with candour, and never hold any expectations against me except success. I appreciate your faith in me.” Daigo takes a couple of steps forward, until his shoes almost brush up against Mine’s own. He leans down over Mine’s chair. “I could not do this without your backing and help. Truly. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone like you in my life. A true friend.”

Mine tilts his chin up to meet Daigo’s gaze, a hungry devotion in his eyes, and Daigo, for a moment, wonders if this is wrong. If he should hold back, like Kiryu would. But Daigo is Daigo, and Mine clearly wants him anyway, so he leans down and kisses him.

Mine’s mouth is velvety smooth and wet and hot and it is oh-so satisfying a feeling to put his hand against Mine’s broad neck and feel his warmth up against Daigo. He pulls back, with a satisfied sigh, and feels the burn of wasabi across his lips, a final parting kick.

#minedai #mine yoshitaka #dojima daigo #spiraling downhill fic tag #yakuza #rgg

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itsmypeach13 · 3 years

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[Please welcome my first ever fanfic series chapter 1🤭The story contains of f/f relationships, centres around Asassins Creed Valhalla women female Eivor, Soma Jarlskona(the Bear Heart is my own nickname I gave her will be often used 😁), Randvi, Valka and other fictional characters. It is for +18 readership as it may contain explicit language, drinking, sexual intercourses, fighting in battles. Please bare these in mind before reading.]

TALES OF THE BEAR-HEART:SOMA

CHAPTER I.

A Letter from the Wolf-Kissed

Soma's POV:

I opened my eyes swiftly , my head was heavy with the thoughts swirling inside after a sleepless night. A warming beam of light brightened my room as the sun was rising slowly outside. I turned to my side and looked at the empty side of the bed. I ran my fingers slowly on the cold pillow and let out a sigh. It doesn't matter how many girls of Gratenbridgeshire offered themselves to me , this place belongs to Eivor. Well, only in my dreams..she haunts me like a she-wolf hunrgry to taste meat and blood. And I would always face this wolf, giving in and letting my walls down for her, but this world was apart from reality.

I had a jarldom to rule and protect my people, today was no different either. Just when I finished dressing up I heard knocking on the door like a bear would rant at me from outside.

'Splendid morning Soma, I know you had fun with that blonde amazon last night, I came to make sure we arrive on time , so get your ass out here.'- Revna greeted me with her raspy voice. She was my right hand in ruling the town , my finest warrior and my best friend in one tall, brunette woman. She was even taller then Eivor and always carried two hammers on her sides. Her weapons put many fine men in the grave , Revna was a beast on the battlefield, but a big hearted puppy to her loved ones. She and I grew closer after Birna left us, I needed somebody to trust.

'You think yourself a seeress of all.I haven't slept a bit, even without any ladies invited in my bed-I stepped out of the door grinning, and placed my hand on her shoulder.' Don't worry my friend, Cheolbert must be still sleeping like a baby.

We both headed to the longhouse as Cheolbert arrived late at night and asked an assemby in the morning. I didn't know what was it about, so I felt curious to know. I peaked towards the main entrance seeing jarls arriving on horseback from the neighbouring jarldoms. It must be either a wedding or war ahead of us, I thought to myself.

'What is on your mind Soma? You seem a bit worn-out this morning.-Revna questioned me by gently pushing my right arm. I didn't want to tell her the truth , that Eivor was the cause of my insomnia.

'Everything is fine Revna , it was full moon yesterday and you know well I can't sleep when it comes'-I assured my shield maiden. 'We have a long day ahead of us, I count on you if we have to fight side by side again.'

Revna silently nodded and hurried to the front of the assembly. The longhouse was filled with people, curious eyes were glued to Cheolbert who stepped in , wearing a glorious red and white cloak and black learher tunic. Our eyes met and he signalled me he wanted to speak in private at the side first.

We both went to the map room, his blue eyes were narrow and mysterious. I gave him a welcoming hug.

'Cheolbert my dear friend, I swear you've grown a feet since we last met.'-I teased.

' Soma, good to meet again, I wish the circumstances were different.'

'What happened? '-I grew impatient and started walking up and down.

'Eivor told me to hand over this letter to you first'.-he held out a letter with a raven seal. I turned my back so that he can't see my face, and I felt the world around me spin. Is she in trouble? Is she alright?

Dear Soma,

I write you in haste now, as your rotten friend Brina , whom you kept so close to your heart as a pet has betrayed all of us. She is a serpent who slyly earned your trust. She got married to Ivarr the Boneless and they sworn revenge on both Ravensthorpe and Gratenbridgeshire. Ivarr wants to be king of this continent...son is like farher. Their fleet is now close to us, we must unite our men and act swiftly. Please come as fast as you can to Ravensthorpe. I already informed your neighbours, I sent Cheolbert to gather all the men at Gratenbridgeshire.

When we win there will be a cause of celebration I sware to you dear. With all my thanks.

Eivor the Wolf-Kissed

My heart grew heavy with disappointment and sadness over hearing what Birna brought for our people. After all I had two friends betray me, I will cut the throat of this traitor too I swore to myself.

I felt blood rush to my cheeks as the word 'dear' was ringing like a bell in my head. The wolf could play mind games with me even if she wasn't here.

The assemby was quick, I told my people to gather every man to fight for the woman who made this place a safe home for us. I climbed up to my black mare after putting on my silver and blue gear and dictated a rushed tempo for our horses on the way to Ravensthorpe, so our army arrived the same afternoon. I held my back tightly and confident in my straddle to show people a firm leader. As we rode closer to the gates a flood of excitement gripped my stomach. It was funny because I feared not the bloodshed of war or heavy strikes of axes, but seeing the deep blue eyes of Eivor again. Too afraid what I would see in the reflection of her endless iris. Just when I was confident enough to let the idea of the two of us together go , I knew it well the depth of her eyes will eat me alive again. Somehow Freya threads our paths in the same direction? Why does she condemned me to suffering?

***

As I got off my mare at the entrance of the longhouse Valka humbly walked up to me and greeted with a tusk of her best mead. It was a secret recipe I was obsessed with so Eivor sometimes sent a few barrells to me. Valka made the sweet liquid with a hint of star anise and petals of orange jasmine.

'Now that you are finally here the universe is balanced'- she winked handing over the mead. I had no idea what she mean by that, but I gratefully accepted and took a long shot.

'Thanks Valka, I am happy to see my favourite seeress. -I winked at her and slightly raised my tusk.' May this give me strength and fortune on the battlefield.

'Freya will have her hand on your shoulder , she has plans with you.'

This conversation made me suspicious Valka had a vision of the future and it seems I am the part of it. Anyhow, I was sure of one thing, my duty is to be here and help.

'I can't wait to fulfill my destiny, my friend. Whatever the future holds I am ready to take it in.'

In that moment Eivor rushed out of the longhouse seeming quite annoyed with something her rough hands forming into fists. She looked astonishing, deadly in her black and gold armor, the axe of her father as a token swagged on her side. Even if it was a brief moment, I saw her eyes widened at the sight of me, her look pierced into my soul when she smirked at me. She was saying without words that she was grateful that I came and trusted me, this filled my heart with warmth and my chest swelled.

'Dear Soma' -she spoke with her deep, raspy voice that was stealing my sanity every time I heard her close.'I knew you would come and aid us in the moment of need.'-she took my right hand for a moment then let it fall back.

'You know I'll always be there like a true friend. It's my pleasure.-Eivor's smile ended at the word friend, but people around us were staring and we weren't more than that behind their backs either.

To cut off our slightly awkward meeting, Randvi stormed out of the wooden bulding her cheeks burning, and arms folded. She looked like a child who didn't get the piece of cake. I wondered what happened between those two in there. In the second she caught a glipse of me and Eivor standing quite close , Randvi joined between us and politely thanked me to bring a huge force here. She was a perfect diplomat and an impeccable service around me after that.She arranged a dinner for only the leaders and jarls to lay out the plan for tomorrow's battle. We decided to surprise Birna and Ivarr and hide our best archers in the woods until they ride towards the gates. I must admit I can see now why Eivor loves Randvi. The copper-haired woman was not only beautiful with soft features, but intelligent in a way that humiliated the man leaders here.

It felt extremely hard to look at Randvi and listen to the details as I felt my helpless jealousy hit me like a wave. It angered me how Eivor drunk every word she uttered her eyes sometimes wandered lover than Randvi's lips.

After dinner I wanted to retreat to my tent as soon as possible , the sight of Eivor and Randvi in the same room sickened me. Before I could do that Randvi came to me with a letter.

'Soma, wait. Let me give this letter to you.' she instructed quickly.

'Who is it from?'-I enquired furrowing my brows with second guessing.

'It's uh..from me actually...-she hesitated then blurted out' there are certain things you better read than hear me say it out loud.'

This fucking woman had guts to speak to me like that..I knew it was intently personal. She must have heard rumors of Eivor's visits to me sometimes, but hardly knew the wolf was only hers not mine for a single bit.

'How thoughtful of you. The rumors are true , you really have balls in spite of being a shieldmaid. I will read your bedtime story later, now if you excuse me.' Randvi 0-Soma 1. Every inch of me wanted to tear off she seal and read it right away but I waited until I was left alone in the provacy of my tent.

Jarl Soma,

Please let me be honest and plain with you. Eivor's invite here was merely political. I know more than anyone how she behaves around women to get what she wants. I have firsthand experience in that. But you have to know Eivor doesn't look at you like a woman, she told me she sees a long lost older sister in you. If I were you, I would think twice what I let people gossip about and make a fool of myself.

Randvi

In the second I finished reading I crumpled the piece of paper and thowed behind my back. Her words were agressive and protective just like a female wolf and I could feel Randvi's bite marks on my neck.

I decided not to believe anything until I asked Eivor.. oh but how could I do that? The wolf would realise I cared about her in a different way, and I couldn't let that happen until she gives me something. A flickering sign in the hollowing darkness I am living in.

I decided to visit Valka and have drinks together, I desperately needed somebody to keep my mind of this mess I became part of.

***

The little hut stood with watchful eyes on the slight hill close to the village. There were died flowers hanged outside and a sweet smoky and flowery scent filled my nostrils. As I get close I recognized Valka now wearing a red gown with hood on her head. She looked like Freya preparing a love potion as she was pouring something in a tusk and put some petals on the top.

'Good Evening Valka.. I hope you don't mind my late night visit. I just needed some of your special mead I guess and my feet brought me here' I stared to her fiery reddish brow eyes. She had neat tattos on her face forming dots and gentle marks on her smooth skin.

'I knew you would come tonight, so I prepared this mead with some herbs that will rock you in a pleasant slumber.'she handed over the tusk , the liquid looked like shiny rubies.

'How is that you always know better what I need than myself?-I smirked at her and found comforting in her eyes.

'A gift from the gods my lady-her eyes had a mysterious spark in them, a little dimple formed on her face from smiling.

'Come sit with me inside, it is getting cold out here.'

I nodded and followed the seeress into the firm hut, theought the entrance ornamented with animal bones and more dried flowers.

There was a freshly lit fire inside warming up my limbs and cheeks. It also colored the space with wrath orange that played on our faces like the sunset.

'Now tell me, what makes your heart heavy?'-she asked with care.

'I think I feel a bond to Eivor that is irrational and grows between us every time we meet. It is like an invisible string pulls me towards her maybe it's the wish of the Gods.-I sipped bitterly in the mead , a slight soothing feeling ran through my body.

'We both know our fate is inevitable, so you have to show what's inside your heart first.' -Valka looked deeply in my eyes. -You are Soma, our fearless Bear warrior sent by Freya to our aid and to fight on Eivor's side.

'Randvi told me Eivor loves me with a sisterly care.. I image she is right., look at her, she could have anybody.

'Don't listen to Randvi , she is hurt and trapped in her own feeling of helplessness. If she can't have Eivor accepted by the public, then nobody can'-Valka nodded and squuezed my hand.

'I just can't trust people anymore Valka. My love towards people turned into a bitter storm inside me.-Except for Revna, I couldn't trust a soul, not even Eivor. She didn't reveal her hidden side to me.

'Just talk to her in the morning, it will ease your turmoil Soma.-she winked and headed to bed. To my utter surprise she started to undress in front of my sleepy eyes, they popped in surprise no matter the mead.

Valka's toned back was shining under the wrath orange fireligt, she revealed her impeccably and naked body.

'Good night Valka, I have to get some sleep now. Thank...you...for uh.. everything!' I mumbled to her and hurried to my hut until I was able to stand still. Before sleep my head was filled with Eivor's piercing eyes and... I was a bit surprised but Valka's slender back flashed through as well. Damn, this woman was also fine. Like all women!

My eyelids felt to heavy , soon enough I was fast asleep like a newborn baby.

#fanfiction #eivor #ac eivor #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #ac valhalla #lady eivor #assassin's creed valhalla #eivor wolfsmal #ac soma #somabearheart #soma jarlskona #eivor x soma #ac valhalla fanfic

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cheesy09 · 4 years

Text

Did I Find You? Kiro x MC Fanfic

This is my own variation on the events that take place in Chapter 19 of Kiro’s route. Or more like... my fantasies T_T. Although I didn’t intend to, it came out a lot angstier than I expected so be prepared. Also, this is my first time writing fanfiction so I’m sorry if the characters end up being a little OOC. Don’t be shy to send your feedback. It would really help improve my writing.

Spoilers for Chapter 19 of the game and Kiro’s Stardust Date. If you haven’t read these two things yet than you probably won’t understand whats going on here.

Tagging all my lovely Kiro/Helios lovers out there @kudoriee, @thatfanfictionchick, @truth-be-told-im-lying and @pickle-scribbles whose stories inspired me to start writing fanfiction. Thank you, you guys, for being so amazing! Even if I could never dream about writing smut.

Anyway, without further ado, Enjoy!

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

“Kiro!” I shouted, bursting through the door that opened onto the roof top.

He turned, a trace of shock flashing through his clear, pure eyes, but fading just as fast.

“Miss Chips, what are you doing here--woah!”

I didn’t give him a chance to finish, grabbing his hand and dragging him back inside, my heart racing with urgency. Images from my dream flashed through my mind. The endless white, the mist, and me-- groping around like a blind man seeking desperately for his long-lost light. If I hadn’t had that dream, would I have been able to find him? I shivered involuntarily at the thought. His palm that was usually so warm, was now a stone cold, which only caused my anxiety to rise. I tightened my grip on his long, slender fingers as I continued pulling him along to the elevator.

“O-ouch, Miss Chips! You’re hurting me!” Kiro winced slightly, but that didn’t make me loosen my grip. I was much too afraid to find out what would happen if I did.

Afraid that… if I loosened them, even a bit, he would slip right through my fingers and I’d lose him forever.

“Miss Chips, where are we going?” His irresistible voice sounded in my ear, finally making me turn to look at him. His perfect eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion, forming worried lines on his glistening brow. His gorgeous, deep blue eyes that I’d constantly find myself drowning in, reflected an unusual sense of melancholy for some reason. But I couldn’t bring myself to feel sorry for him this time.

“Home.” My voice sounded a lot harsher than I’d meant it to. In all the time that I had been with him, I’d rarely ever gotten mad at Kiro. He was the warmth and light of my life. The boy whose charming, unreserved laughter could light up a whole room. Whose smile was like a beacon in the dark. Sure, there were times where I’d find myself getting annoyed when he’d take his teasing a little too far, but Kiro never got me riled up enough for me to lash out at him.

Yet this time, the stunt he’d pulled managed to push my buttons to the max. Anger boiled in me like hot magma threatening to burst out. Savin’s anxious tone and the cold, electronic voice that had rung through my ears when I had dialed Kiro’s number this morning had thrown me into a panic like I’d never felt before. It had felt like I was on the verge of losing my mind. “How could you just run off on your own like that? Savin and everyone else have been look for you, you know?!”

The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside, pulling him along, my hand still clutching his own as if my very life depended on it. The elevator doors shut behind us.

I thought I wouldn’t get a reply, but after a few seconds his voice drifted through the air, carrying with it a grim heaviness I’d never heard from him before.

“I’ll explain things to Savin and the others later,” he said. “But before I do… can I ask you something?” Kiro didn’t wait for my answer and instead just tugged on my arm to make me face him. His seraphic face entered my vision, and all of my previous anger was instantly blown out of my system.

“…If I wasn’t Kiro the superstar anymore, would you still like me, Miss Chips? Would you still… think of me?”

My whole body froze as his words sunk in. This had been a question that he’d asked me countless of times… and every time, my answer was the same.

In a burst of annoyance, I brought my middle finger to his forehead and flicked it.

Kiro let out a cry of pain as he took a step back from me and rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. The wide-eyed shock and confusion with which he looked at me actually made me feel a little better about myself. Then, I caught his slightly red cheeks between my palms and brought him down to face me, pressing my forehead against his own like the way he’d do to me, those countless times in the past.

“I told you, it doesn’t matter who you are and what kind of life you have, you will always be ‘Kiro’ to me and I will always think of you,” I said firmly, hoping to brand my words and my feelings into his mind and heart.

“You...”

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the way his breath caught in his throat, or the way a spark of doubt flashed through his shimmering, azure eyes, but in a bold moment of impulsiveness, I lifted myself onto my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his own.

Kiro’s entire body went rigid as a tiny gasp escaped his lips, as if his mind couldn’t process what was happening at that very moment. But after a few seconds, I felt his body cave, his hands grabbing my hips and pinning me against the wall, pressing his whole body against me. One of my hands found purchase on the back of his neck while the other held on to the scarf wrapped around his neck, tugging him closer and closer, like I was trying to brand his body with my own.

His lips were as soft as I remembered them, but there was no tenderness or gentleness to this kiss. It was ravenous, desperate and stripped me of my ability to think straight. Our mouths moved against each other with an urgent need, like a dance of our own, in sync and in heat, drinking each other in.

When I felt the familiar warmth of his tongue brush against my own, I was taken back to that night of the concert, when he’d kissed me just like this and asked me to come look for him, if he ever got lost. At that time, I never really understood what he meant when he said ‘come look for me,’ but now I think I do.

Did I find you, Kiro? Was I able to bring you back?

As our lips continued to move against each other, Kiro brought up his right hand to brush against my flushed ears and I let out a soft moan into his mouth.

That seemed to bring him back to reality.

All of sudden, Kiro broke away from the kiss, his harsh, heated breaths mixing with my own. Our foreheads were still pressed together, noses brushing and chests heaving against each other. “Now do you understand?” I whispered, ghosting my lips over his, making him shiver. “No matter who you are, I will always like you.”

Kiro let out a light chuckle as he buried his face in my shoulders, his fluffy blonde hair tickling my neck. He didn’t say anything and neither did I. We were content on just holding each other, and perceiving each other’s existence through our shared body heat. But after a few minutes, Kiro’s soft voice cut through the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

It was like a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured on me. Images flashed through my mind as I was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. I seemed to remember silver hair, a pair of gold eyes, these same familiar arms, this same broken voice, the same feelings of anguish and despair and the same sensation of tears running down my face.

Before I even had time to react, Kiro grabbed me by shoulders and pushed me back, staring at me with a determined look on his face.

Only this time, his eyes were a blazing gold.

“I command you—”

When the elevator had finally reached the bottom, there was only one person who stepped out, while the other remained behind, the doors sliding shut on the vision of his bitter smile.

I walked out of the building in a daze, the commotion of the traffic loud in my ears. Static seemed to blanket the other parts of my memory, only one thing coming through clearly.

I hailed a taxi and told the driver the only thing that was on my mind.

“Driver, I want to go home.”

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

Thank you so much for reading. If you’re interested in checking out my other works, you’ll find them in my Masterlist

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc kiro #mlqc spoilers #mlqc zhou qiluo #hope these are all the tags

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missdreamsalot · 4 years

Text

The Queen’s Guard- Ch.1

A/N: Hello, everyone! This is my first attempt at a Fanfic and I’m both nervous and excited about finally posting the very first chapter. I’m still quite new to this platform and haven’t been quite active up until now but I love Choices and want to be a little more lively here. Thank you, and I hope you guys like this!

Book: The Royal Romance

Main Pairings: Leo x OC, Liam x OC.

Future Pairings: Maxwell x OC, Bastien x OC, Drake x Olivia

Summary: A rotten apple in the family threatens their lives and there is only one way to get rid of bad blood.

Masterlist

Warnings: Violence, Language, Sexual Content, Angst, Dark Situations, Character Death

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of The Royal Romance, or Rules of Engagement; they belong to Pixelberry. I only own my OC’s.

Enjoy~ *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

CH 1: Ghosts

In the Ramsford Estate, Elle sat quietly at the vanity of the room she occupied for the past summer. She stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror. Her long, brown hair had dulled, olive skin had paled, and the light of her green eyes had been extinguished.

A month had passed since the day of the Coronation, 30 days since the man she loved broke her heart, and the 720 hours of self-loathing had crippled her at last.

A broken cry escaped her lips as she hugged herself tight. How could she had been so foolish to think that it could work? He had his place and she had hers – a place that she hid from everyone in order to protect them, to protect him.

She knew she couldn’t stay much longer, no matter how much she wanted to fight for him, it simply wouldn’t be possible. Her enemies would only continue to draw them apart. The pictures that were published was only the tip of the iceberg and from there it would only spiral into darker depths, unleashing more suffering and heartbreak.

‘It’s over’, she thought.

Out on the patio that same evening, the night air danced through Elle’s hair as she stared up at the sky. She returned her eyes to Maxwell’s face that had dropped into sadness upon her declaration of leaving and returning home.

“I want to fight with you on this” the younger Beaumont brother started, “and I want to say to give it a little more time, that things will get better, but-“ he sighed, rubbing his face in frustration, “I don’t know when or if it will. I blame myself for putting you in this position, and I’m sorry-“

“Maxwell,” Elle placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. None of us could’ve predicted this. It’s out of our control.” It truly was. The capacity of which they can change things was out of their hands.

Suddenly the world swayed, she grabbed the front of her dress as her stomach churned and she groaned miserably.

Maxwell perked up in alarm as the color drained from her face. “What’s wrong?”

Elle waited until it passed while contemplating if she should express the truth to Maxwell-A truth that even herself could not come to terms with.

She shook her head, “Nothing, I just-”

“Forgot to take your iron?” Maxwell finished.

Her eyes met his and she smiled faintly. “Yes,” was all she could muster. A few moments later he returned with a glass of orange juice and an iron pill.

“Don’t tell me you forgot you were anemic?” Maxwell stated lightheartedly as he handed her the supplement first. “You need to take better care of yourself!”

“I do,” she spoke softly. After gulping down the last drop of juice, she gave the glass back to him and again her eyes found their way back to the starry sky. For an instant, she found herself drifting away and, instead of the stars, there were two of the brightest eyes looking down at her- tender, iridescent, and blue…” but I can’t do that here.” She continued, “Thank you for being there for me, Maxwell. You’re such a great friend. Honorable at that...”

“You make it sound like I’m never gonna see you again,” Maxwell pouted. She blinked away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

“I-AH!”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly against him. “Don’t worry! If you ever need anything, I’ll always be here for you!”

“Okay, okay!” she exclaimed, patting his shoulder soothingly. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

Before they knew it, Elle was walking the tarmac to the plane that would whisk her way. She looked back, giving one last wave to the Beaumont brothers, Maxwell waving enthusiastically, while Bertrand stared as intensely as ever, giving her a final nod of acknowledgement.

As she took her seat, the tears finally spilled and her eyes never burned so painfully.

The jet began its departure, rising into the brilliance of the clear, blue sky and leaving behind a man who could only dream to be with the woman he loved.

6 Months Later /// Present Day: Cordonia ///

Liam sat at his desk hunched over a flood of papers. He was in the middle of finalizing a public statement when there was a knock at his door. “You may enter.” He called out; his attention glued to the paper in front of him. With a dramatic swirl, he signed the parchment in satisfaction.

“Hello, baby brother.”

Liam looked up with a smile that didn’t quite reach his once lively blue eyes. “Leo.” He stood up and they shared a hug before parting. “How are you doing?” He began rustling through the documents, piling them haphazardly until they were neat enough that he placed his main piece front and center; ready to go.

“Well, if you checked your phone every now and then you would know.” Leo teased, wandering over to the drink cart.

“Sorry, it’s been a bit hectic lately,” Liam grabbed his coat draped over the back of his chair and dug into the inside pocket. As he pulled his phone out, his keys fell out and hit the floor. He bent down to pick them up and gazed over them for a moment, his eyes settling on a particular keychain. He ran his thumb over the miniature statue of liberty before placing the keys back.

His older brother chuckled, “I was only messing with you. No need to apologize.”

Liam turned to face his brother who was already holding out a glass of bourbon for him. “Thanks.”

“My life is viewed as a bit of a train wreck but,” Leo shrugged with a gulp of his drink, “it’s a wanted one.”

“Always the devil may care attitude huh, Leo?”

“You’re surprised?”

Liam shook his head as his lips quirked up in a grin while he scrolled indifferently through his phone.

Leo peered at him over the rim of his glass, taking note of how exhausted he looked. His once-tamed blonde hair was disheveled due to the many times of running his hands through it, and he was hunched forward with an unseen weight on his shoulders.

“Li?”

“Hm?” Liam met his brother’s gaze, his phone closing with a click.

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Liam chuckled, but it was an empty one. “What brought this on?”

“You look like shit for one.”

Liam opened his mouth to retort, but what escaped was only a breath of air. He gazed somberly at the dancing flames in the fireplace. The door to the study opened then and Queen Mother Regina walked in. She smiled softly upon seeing her stepsons.

“Well, I’m glad to see us all here.” She took the couch in between them, setting a thin folder down on the low table. “What was it you wanted to discuss, Liam?”

“Hello to you too, Regina. I’m okay thanks for asking.” Leo interjected nonchalantly.

“I thought you would appreciate me getting straight to the point. I’m sure your itching to get out of here.” Regina stated. “You look well though. I see the divorce holds no ill will for you among other things.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Still giving me shit for that? Of course, you are.”

“I warnedyou about her and looked what happened.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably.

“Right, I’m sure you predicted that she would cheat on me with the bartender. I appreciate you looking out for me.” Leo uttered with contempt.

“I’m leaving.” He blurted out. Both parties turned to Liam at his announcement.

Regina was first to respond, her eyes glimmering with concern. “What do you mean by ‘leaving’?”

“On a break of sorts.”

The Queen Mother relaxed internally. For a moment she thought he was abdicating the throne and that would not have boded well for the kingdom. “First and foremost, Liam...” she started. “Have you spoken to Madeleine about this?”

“No. I wanted to disclose it with you two first.”

“She’s your wife. I think she holds precedence.”

Liam exhaled sharply. “Regardless, I plan on leaving in two days. I’ve already scheduled a press conference for tomorrow morning.

Regina remained silent for a moment, considering his words. “I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. You’ve been opting out of important social events and avoiding the press. Your absence has already become noticed by the people. However, do you know how this is going to look? The people will question ‘why all of a sudden’. So, why now, Liam?”

Liam stared at the now empty tumbler in his hands. “There is nothing to it. I simply need some time to myself. They’ll understand. A lot has happened.”

Leo’s heart bled for him as he looked at the shadows that settled underneath his brother’s eyes. He didn’t know the particular details about what happened following the events of the social season, only that the woman that had captured his little brother’s heart left without a word, taking a bit of it, if not the entire thing with her. Leo knew better than to allow Liam to deal with it on his own, but he couldn’t quite find the right words to say without it awakening a considerable amount of pain. He had approached Drake about it and Leo was only met with a biting remark from the snarky man.

“Maybe if you stuck around long enough, you’d know...”

Leo knew better than to fire back, taking into account that it was situation that made Drake react the way he did and that, well… his words stung more than Leo would like to admit.

When the scandal had surfaced at night of the Coronation, Leo knew that it was nothing but a despicable ruse to get the foreign woman out of the running. If it was one thing he regretted the most it was leaving his little brother to endure it on his own. Liam had his close companions, yes, but there was a bond between the brothers no one else can reciprocate. In the end, Leo had selfishly decided to leave, having had enough of the royal crowd. He had taken advantage of his brother’s selflessness asking Liam if he wanted him to stay knowing well enough the he wouldn’t allow him to do that. Liam knew of his distaste towards the royal lifestyle and its overbearing rules. He had insisted that it was alright and was quite determined to figure it out and that, more importantly, he didn’t want Leo to miss out on the motocross tour that was starting in the following days. In turn, Leo did not hesitate to pack his bags and leave.

Leo remembered him saying, ‘Everything will be fine.’ He would only find out later that it would turn out not to be.

Regina sighed before continuing. “Liam, I understand the pain of losing someone you love. Go on, take the time you require to heal your heart. Nevertheless, don’t forget, what is important. Following your father’s death, the Cordonian people need you right now. You cannot abandon them for long. It is your duty to represent our kingdom, bestow strength and trust within our people, but they are beginning to lose faith in you as a king. You need to prioritize their needs and reestablish stability,” Regina paused for a breath, carefully thinking about her next words. “But you needn’t do it alone...Liam, you have your queen and now it is time to consider other things…”

Dread seeped through the blood in Liam’s veins. He knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable much longer. He understood his duties as ruler for a country he loved dearly, but the past 7 months had been hard on him and his father’s death only added to the unrelenting agony in his chest.

“…an heir will bring on tremendous rapture…a flourishing kingdom…”

Liam stopped listening as her words continued. They trailed off in echoes and swirls inside his head with no grasp.

Liam wanted her. The woman that visited his dreams every night. He dreamt of a life with her. There was love, laughter, and endless bliss. That’s how he pictured his future once and thinking about it now made his heart ache much more. He felt like he was suffocating. His chest was tight and his eyes burned from the swelling of unshed tears.

Liam swallowed his anguish and forced out his next words, “I will…proceed with such circumstances when I return.”

“Liam-” Leo began, but when Liam looked up at him with sadness his gaze and half a smile, he realized there was nothing he could say that would make him feel better. He slumped in his seat.

A heavy silence descended them until Regina cleared her throat. “Is there anything else you wanted to address, Liam?”

Liam shook his head. “I have said everything that needed to be said. Thank you for your time. You may be on your way now.”

Regina gave a curt nod. She reached over for the folder on the table and opened it. Removing an article, she stood and faced Leo.

She handed him a pastel green envelope. “I received a correspondence from Evangeline, your mother, several days ago and it’s addressed to you…”

Leo stunned, didn’t know what to say. He grabbed the letter with uncertainty.

“What you decide to do is up to you.”

“Thank you, Regina.”

The Queen Mother gave him a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry about earlier. You didn’t deserve that. I just don’t like seeing you get hurt- either of you. Life is not an easy tread…” She looked over at Liam for a brief moment. Although he was hunched over fiddling with his wedding band, his gaze was a million miles away. “you simply have to do the best you can. Anyways, I’ll leave you boys to it.” She exited the room, leaving her sons with their thoughts.

Leo flipped the letter around in his hands contemplating what to do. Why contact him after all these years? She never made an effort to contact him before. Did he really want to reconnect with the woman that abandoned him? The one that left him feeling alone and unloved? His gaze shifted, descending thoughtfully on the bright flames crackling in the fireplace. He stood up and sauntered over to bring the letter above the blaze.

“Leo!” Liam gasped. He felt his brother’s hand enclose his. “Think about this.”

Against the illumination, Leo could make out the scribbles of black ink etched across the paper- her handwriting. He sighed heavily, his heart and mind in a battle of emotions-anger, hope, sadness, or elation. He didn’t know what to feel.

“At least read what she has to say.”

Leo withdrew. “You’re right, I suppose.”

“’You’re right, as always’ is what you meant to say.” Liam added humorously. Leo shoved him playfully, packing the letter in his jacket.

“You’re not going to read it now?”

“I’ll do it on my own time. I need to process this.” Leo poured himself another much-needed drink and immediately chugged it down.

Liam’s phone began to buzz in his pocket. He peered at it inquisitively as it flashed the familiar unknown number. This was the third one from the mysterious caller this past week. He answered the call. “Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello? May I ask who’s calling?” Leo locked eyes with Liam, brows raised in curiosity. Liam shook his head. There was nothing but white noise at the other end. “Hel-” The call ended abruptly with a ding.

“That was strange.” Leo commented.

“It wouldn’t be the first peculiar occurrence. I’ve been getting them randomly over the past three months.”

“Have you had Bastien look into it?”

“My King.”

The two men turned as the head of the king’s guard made his presence known.

“What is it, Bastien?” Liam inquired. He sensed something was wrong.

“It seems there has been a breach in security. An intruder-a woman. We have her contained if you would like to see her.”

Leo whistled, “This day just keeps getting rather interesting.”

Bastien looked grim,

“She says she is here to kill the King of Cordonia.”

#choices #choices leo #choices liam x oc #choices liam #choices leo x oc #trr leo #leo rys #prince leo #king liam #choices trr #trr fanfic #choices the royal romance #trr #pixelberry #the royal romance #trr liam

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coffeebeannate · 3 years

Text

Taken from @werebearbearbar

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

I started writing fic years and years ago. And have done so in other fandoms before taking a long hiatus from the writing world in general. I stuck with written roleplay only. For what I assume to be around four or five years, I did not write a single fic. (I also wrote short stories in childhood, teen years and young adult years)

(I want to point out though that this absolutely does not negate roleplay writing, and that writing with another person, or in a group is a lesser form) My break from fanfic came with one of the worst periods of my mental and physical health, and everything I had written was purged from my Ao3 account in a single night.

I started writing for The Old Guard in August, and below, are the things I like a lot that I’ve written for it. To do this, I decided to use the criteria of ‘fics I like the most’ instead of what seems to be the most popular to read. For me, if I really love a piece of work, I recall the creative process fondly, and have lines and bits of dialogue I truly adore within it.

1. Precision Mission Fic. Gala. Post-Movie. Current Group (Nile, Andy, Joe, NIcky)

Rated M (Mature) 4846 words

My second fic for the fandom that I published, but the first I actually conceptualized. This one is just..so special to me. I have phone notes typed at five am. I can recall the excitement as I was so eager to share this story and get it off the ground. I wanted to see this complete so bad. I loved nearly every second of writing it, and it’s always going to hold a special place in my heart as a result. There’s so much overdone clothing talk and I can only think of it with fondness.

Excerpt:

None of them are comfortable. Except Joe, it seems.

Joe makes it look easy. Simplistic, even, judging by the way he effortlessly glides and charms his way through the expansive ball/congregating/entertaining room. Something that never failed to fascinate Nicky was the way Joe could integrate himself almost seamlessly into any scenario, situation, or environment. Neither Andy nor himself had that ability. Not when it came to cavorting, anyway. Nicky more quietly reserved, Andy lacking in the ability to care enough to fake it.

Nile seemed to be more in the middle. She did not appear overly comfortable with the mingling, but she had enough personal grace and adaptability to make it seem somewhat effortless to have a decent time.

All their eyes remained sharp on the surrounding area, awaiting the arrival of their target. And for all his schmoozing, Nicky knew Joe’s surveillance was tack-sharp, multitasking to a degree no one he was currently conversing with could have possibly noticed.

“You going to move at some point, or have you taken up permanent resident status here?” Nile asks, appearing at his side where Nicky has spent the last half-hour molded to the furthest left corner of the solid black bar. “I know you have an excellent view, but.”

Nicky snorted, though only Nile could actually tell, “Why waste a good opportunity?”, momentarily ceasing his Joe watching to stare back into the depths of his glass, which currently contained some horrifically shocking pink abomination, Nicky’s second drink, since he was letting the bar tender dictate them, too utterly distracted to care what was touching his lips, and curious with the way the bar tender had delighted in being given free reign to make whatever he desired.

To be fair, it didn’t taste that bad-something frighteningly sugary and weirdly noxious smelling, but it’s not exactly ‘crime against humanity’ levels of alcoholic nightmares.

2. Old

Post-movie. Current Group. (Andy, Nile, Joe, Nicky) Mortal Andy. Character study.

Rated T (Teen and Up Audiences), 2903 words.

My first attempt at Andy-centric writing. Andy is a character I consider a challenge to write, and that makes me want to write her more. This fic centers mostly around her and the others trying to come to terms with how much has happened, within day to day life and taking the comfort that they can in one another.

I really like this fic. A lot. Sure it’s short. Sure maybe not much happens, but Andy’s character fascinates me, as does her relationship with her family.

Excerpt:

Old.

Old

So motherfucking old.

Someone is calling out to her, her hearing and senses long fine-tuned to knowing. It’s Nicky- she can easily pretend she can’t hear him, he knows when she doesn’t want to talk to anyone, after all.

She’s being petty, and she knows it’s unfair. That the nearly untouched plate and nights spent not sleeping gives them reason to be at her. But facing them with that fact feels about as ideal as jumping into a flaming volcano right about now. They’re just worried. It makes her stomach turn, sour and vicious. Venom in the gut, acid in the heart.

Said volcano would be kinder.

3. Spice it Up (Or Not)

Joe and Nicky. Pre-Movie. Fluffy Lovings

Rated: E (Explicit) 3030 words

This one was just fun. I am such a sucker for banting, and the most established of established relationships that Nicky and Joe have going on. This one is indeed not safe for work, and honestly, the opening paragraphs are what came first, and I actually had to build the story around it.

Something that I think makes this fic fun to me as well is that, just because something that sounded like a good idea fails, it doesn’t make it an ending. Healthy communication, knowing each other..it’s so blissful to think about.

Things aren’t always perfect, but that’s okay. And it’s not always a threat. Oh and because this is me, what was supposed to be fairly light hearted gets all sappy and reflective mid-way.

Excerpt:

He knows Nicky in every way. He knows his scent from battle, from sex, from showers and from sleep. He knows his eyes in darkness, in light, in dread, excitement and worry. He knows his grief, his love, his sadness, and adoration. Excitement, passion, fear, and pain.

He could count each tear that Nicky has shed, could recall each tone of his voice in every language they know. From the first he heard to the current. The sweet harmony of song and the rough gasp of drunk intoxication. He’s heard him yell, heard him scream. Heard his shouts and his cries.

He knows how Nicky tends to favour his left shoulder even though there’s no reason beyond psychological to do so. A spot Joe stabbed so long ago. So far back in another life. He knows how he likes to pause and do surveillance before they enter any new location. Knows he likes vehicles that move fast and has a fondness for roller coasters.

He’s seen those hands, so large and skilled break bone, wield a sword and cut vegetables and fruit. Seen them card through his hair, felt them map out each knot and ridge in his spine and ribs, felt them so deep inside himself he can taste it. Rolling into it. Demanding, needing.

“Yusuf.” Nicky’s not calling him back, Nicky’s just as far gone. So often they seem to share thoughts.

Nicky knows Joe in all ways and more. Knows that Joe still sometimes seems to speak ancient by-gone languages in his sleep. Knows that he tends to carry the strongest personal scent in the dead of night. That no shower, no soap, no life experience or battle has truly ever masked the delightful musk he has to himself. There could be a cologne out there that would modify it, and Nicky would bite and lick it away. Demanding and asking, why take this from me? How dare you try to alter what I know and love so furiously?

4. Touch Before Heart

Historical Kaysanova. Early Years. Pre-Movie. Getting to Know Eachother.

Rated E (Explicit) 5030 words

As is pretty obvious by now, I write a LOT of early years Kaysanova. A lot. I am addicted to it.

This one..I love it. This might be one of my favourite pieces of writing of all time. If I was doing these numbers strictly in order preference, then I’d put it as number one I bet.

I think the summary I made for it sums up well just how much I love it. And maybe why.

The first moment they’re able to have a bath, they resolutely do not look at each other. Picking opposite ends of the small stream bed, backs turned to one another. A strange show of both trust and distrust; their backs were exposed, but it was up to their tentative mutual agreement to not partake in the opportunity to stab each other for it.

The..idea that they had so much to learn, so much to understand. So much confusion, anger mistrust..I just really really adore this fic and I think I did a good job with it.

Excerpt:

He curses in unison with Nicolò, both holding fast and steady as the thing finally rights itself, Nicolò letting out a slow, shaken breath of relief.

“Are you alright?” Yusuf asks, both to break the silence and mend the irritating gap they’ve created for themselves.

“Better. Thank you.”

Yusuf wants to scream.

He wants to grab Nicolò, shake him until he can do nothing but give him answers.

Why do you drive me to the brink of madness?

Why do I know your touch, but not your heart?

Why do you tempt me, consume me?

What does it mean?

Why are we here?

Why!?

It is an unfair desire; he’s hardly given the man any more clarity.

5. Curated

Post-Movie. Current Group (Nile, Andy, Joe, Nicky)

Rated G (General Audiences) 1807 words

Alright, I admit it, I had trouble picking number five. I picked Curated because it’s just..so fluffy. But it’s so sweet I always feel so sugary when I think of it. The softness that I tried to convey, and I think I succeeded.

Nile is another character that fascinates me, that I just do not explore enough, and this is all the comforting goodness I could ever hope to create.

Excerpt:

She’s grown used to the easy intimacy they all share, but the sight before her, Nicky’s eyes half-lidded, face a perfect serenity she rarely see’s on it, Joe lost, far-away in reciting but still wholly present, creates an odd, near-throbbing ache in her chest. Something powerful and raw. It’s hard to imagine that people who have been alive this long can be this content.

Everything they’ve seen, experienced and done. All the stories they’ve regaled her with. All the prep, the anxieties, the concerns, and curiosities. None of it seems to exist in these moments. Joe speaking in a language the world might think dead, the true master of softness within the room.

And there we have it! I have so much more I want to write, I have so much more I want to explore, and I thank you all for sharing in these journey’s with me. May there be more writing in our future!

#nate does writing #end of year fic thing #self positivity #things nate has written #long post

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michaelgambons · 4 years

Text

This is my first ever Drabble/imagine/ fanfic (whatever you want to call it!) so please bare with! It’s set in the UK, so if you encounter any unfamiliar language, places or references, please shoot me a message!

This chapter is intended to set the scene and introduce the characters, but it will get more exciting soon!

Baseline Romantic

Chapter 1

It was pouring with rain as the train pulled into the station. Grimacing slightly against the cold wind that was coming in from the gap in the train door, Y/N turned the collar of her coat up and picked up her bag, ready to hop off the train and made a dash for the nearest cover.

Once off the train and under shelter, Y/N paused slightly before heading for the exit. She bowed her head slightly against the rain, but it still managed to trickle down her neck and a shiver ran through her. It wasn’t just the cold and the wet that was making her shiver, though. As much as she was excited to see her friends, the idea of spending a long weekend socialising was enough to make her take a deep breath to steady herself.

For the last 10 years, without fail, Y/N and her friends had gathered in Charlie’s mum’s house on the outskirts of Peterborough for the August bank holiday. The tradition had been borne out of the boredom of the university summer holidays, during which, when stuck at home, too broke to travel, too lazy to work and keen to return to the freedom of university, they had spent the remainder of their student finance on train fares to spend the long weekend together. Charlie’s mum’s house was perfect for the piss up that ensued; it was in the middle of nowhere so they could play music as loud as they wanted, as late as they wanted, and, crucially, Charlie’s mum spent most of the year living at her boyfriend’s in Surrey. The weekends had become the stuff of legend.

As she stepped out of the station and glanced around for a lift, a horn sounded. Looking around for its source, she spotted a battered Land Rover parked a few meters away, whose driver and passenger were waving furiously at her, grins splashed across their faces. Y/N’s face broke into a wide smile as she ran across the car park to join them.

———

Half an hour later, nestled in front of a roaring fire, gin and tonic grasped in her hand, Y/N had finally started to warm up. She sighed deeply to herself, closing her eyes and allowing herself to relax into the deep sofa, but a sudden roar of laughter brought her back to the room.

‘I’m so glad you managed to come, Y/N’ Catherine said. ‘I can’t believe you were going to put your *job* ahead of spending time with your friends’ she continued with a laugh.

Y/N smiles vaguely. ‘Mate me too’ she replied. ‘Honestly though, it was touch and go right until yesterday! If the shite weather hadn’t meant that the trip had to be cancelled, you wouldn’t have been graced with my company at all’

‘What trip was this?’ Dominic asked, putting down his beer.

‘Urghhh, don’t get me started’ Y/N said. ‘It was the most stereotypical thing ever. I was taking some MP’s on a ruddy fishing trip to talk to them about protecting freshwater rivers’.

She looked round and saw everyone staring at her, unsure whether to take her seriously or not.

‘I’m not joking!’ She said, laughing. ‘It’s as ridiculous as it sounds- I would have had to have worn fucking fishing trousers. Believe me, I’m much happier, and warmer, to be here.’

‘No Dan?’ Misha asked.

Y/N grimaced internally. She was hoping she could have had at least one G&T before she had to answer that question. She didn’t need reminding of the massive argument they had had just before she’d left. Her boyfriend Dan hated these gatherings; hated the fact that they pushed him out of his comfort zone by having to spend the weekend with people who weren’t constantly plotting the next Bolshevik revolution, like he was.

‘I just don’t understand why you like these people, Y/N. They’re all so painfully middle class and you just spend the weekend drinking overpriced wine and eating twattish Waitrose food’ he had shouted as she had packed.

‘You’re being ridiculous Dan’ she had yelled back. ‘These people are as left wing and educated as they come. Just because they don’t sing Red Flag to themselves every morning doesn’t mean that they’re as vapid as you seem to think they are.’

They hadn’t managed to resolve the argument before she’d had to leave for her train. There was, ultimately, no resolution to it. Dan had taken a dislike to her friends ever since he’d met them, two bank holidays ago. He’d spent the evening on the same sofa as she was now sat on, preaching about the Marxist benefits of agriculture. Happy to entertain this for the initial hour, Y/N and her friends had happily joined in. When, 2 hours later, he showed no sign of wanting to change the subject, they had all gradually excused themselves to bed.

‘Ignorant Tories’ Dan had muttered to Y/N as they got ready for bed.

Back in the present, Y/N took a gulp of her drink before she replied.

‘He had some protest I think? He says hello though!’ she said, trying to sound bubbly and casual as she lied through her teeth.

No one seemed to question this though, and the conversation gradually drifted back to what they were going to have for dinner. Catherine, however, caught her eye from across the room, and motioned her outside.

When Y/N joined Catherine outside, she’s shivering under her coat, cigarette in hand, glancing up at the sky and grimacing at the black cloud that is looming over them.

‘So’ Catherine says. ‘Why is Dan really not here? I didn’t believe a minute of that protest bullshit’.

Y/N might have realised that, if anyone was going to see past her feeble excuse, it would be Catherine. Catherine who had lived with her on and off for the last 10 years. The only one of her friends Dan liked and simultaneously the friend of hers who liked Dan the least.

She’d just finished telling Catherine the story, when the backdoor opened again and Ben came into the garden. He stopped as soon as he saw their serious expressions though and gestured back to the door.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt- just wanted a cig. I’ll come back...’

He turned to leave, but Y/N shouted after him.

‘Don’t be ridiculous Ben, it’s not a state secret. Just Dan being a shit’ Y/N said.

Ben smiles sympathetically as he comes over to the two of them. He lights a cigarette and runs his hand through his shocking blonde hair.

‘Actually Ben, you could be useful. Y/N tell Ben the same thing you told me.’ Catherine said.

Five minutes later, Ben had been fully debriefed. Both girls turned to him to see his reaction; he took a drag of his cigarette, brow furrowed.

‘He’s being a complete fucking idiot’. He says, bluntly. ‘Totally disrespectful. You don’t always have to like your partners friends, but you should always make an effort. That’s what being in a relationship is for fucks sake’

Both girls snigger and smile into their cigarettes, opinions confirmed.

‘Catherine?’ Charlie shouts from the kitchen. ‘What am I doing with these courgettes?’

Catherine sighs and stubbs our her cigarette, before walking back into the kitchen, leaving Y/N with Ben.

Ben was the only member of the group who wasn’t part of the original university crew. He had first come to their August break 5 years ago; Dom’s out of work actor flatmate from London who was going through a bad breakup and was in dire need of wine, company and good food. No one else had joined the group before or since, but Ben had slotted in perfectly, and remained a permanent fixture. He was undoubtedly one of Y/N favourite members of the group; down to earth, thoughtful, but with a cruel sense of humour which complemented Y/N’s well. The two could spend hours snorting with laughter at jokes their friends failed to understand.

‘Mate we need to have a SERIOUS chat about your last year’ Y/N said, turning to Ben. ‘We haven’t caught up properly since before Christmas, and you’ve been to the Oscars since then for god’s sake! What was it like?’

Ben snorts into his wine. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint but it was actually very underwhelming. Fucking long and you can’t go out for food or a cigarette’.

‘That is so disappointing. I’ve been rehearing my Oscar acceptance speech since I was at least 10 with a shampoo bottle- don’t tell me it’s not all what it’s cracked up to be’ Y/N pouted.

Ben laughed. ‘What on earth are you winning this Oscar for? Have you switched careers while I was in LA?’

‘Best Documentary’. Y/A answers firmly and quickly. ‘An expose of a corrupt politician where I go undercover as his campaign manager whilst hooked up to a wire. Critics would praise my bravery and unique take on the issue’. She grinned at Ben, who is laughing at her.

‘Dan really doesn’t know what he’s missing’ Ben laughed.

The smile fades off Y/N’s face. Ben immediately realises his mistake and tries to change the subject, but it’s too late.

‘I’m sorry Y/N I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business. I just... he’s... you deserve better’ he finishes faintly.

‘Dinner!’ Comes a shout from the kitchen, before Y/N is able to reply.

————

Two hours and several glasses of wine later, Y/N finally had finally forgotten about Dan for the moment. She was warm, well fed, tipsy and in good company.

‘And that’ Misha shouts, voice confident with the gin he’s been drinking since lunchtime, ‘is how I ended up as Robert Mugabe’s private pilot’

Everyone around the table roars with laughter. Y/N catches the eye of Ben who is sitting across her on the table. Y/N looks away quickly. She doesn’t want Ben to think she’s staring at him- but it’s hard not to when you’re sat opposite someone as ridiculously pretty as him. Instead she reaches for the wine bottle to refill her glass. When she next looks up, however, she swears she catches Ben quickly looking away from her. She shakes her head slightly to clear it of the wine fog that’s descended on her.

Y/N catches sight of her reflection in the back of her wine glass. Of course Ben wasn’t staring at her. Her curly hair was all over the place after the day’s travel, and her make up had faded and smudged under eyes. Whilst far from unattractive, she’s no where near as polished as the skin thin models he was undoubtedly fucking over in LA. And anyway, she had Dan to think of.

Brushing the thought from her mind, Y/N turned to Cleo who was sat next to her and joined in the conversation she and Charlie were engaged in. Out of the corner of her eye though, she kept Ben in her peripheral vision.

—————

‘Y/N I’ve got a banger lined up for you in a second’ said Dominic with a cheeky grin. He was controlling the music they are listening to in the living room, which they’ve retreated to now dinner had been cleared away.

‘Oh no, what have you got lined up? Cleo moaned.

‘It’s either Baseline Junkie or Rocky Racoon if it’s for Y/N’ Charlie said laughing.

Hearing this, Y/N sat up in her chair, which she had previously been slumped in, letting the conversation wash over her, content but tired by the days events.

~ Hey turn the base off, turn the base off

Big dirty stinking base, dirty stinking base ~

Y/N leaps out of her chair. The group collectively moans and laughs as they watch Y/N sing and dance along to the song- completely out of rhythm but with a huge smile over her face.

She turns to each member of the group in turn, signing a line of the song to them. As she reaches Ben, she realises he is recording her sing, grinning into his camera. Slightly taken aback for a moment at the fact that this would undoubtedly be posted to his million + followers on instragram, instead of stopping, Y/N redoubles her efforts at performing the song into his camera.

As the song comes to an end, she bows into his camera as a round of applause rings out.

She suspects she’ll regret that in the morning

Chapter 2 now out!

————-

#ben hardy #ben hardy smutt #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy x reader

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greetthedawn · 4 years

Link

AN:

I set out with the intention to write 6 chapters over 6 weeks. It turned into 16 chapters over 6 years.

I got Black Flag on my 17th birthday, and now at 23 it remains my favorite story, full stop. I'm ready to move onto other projects, but I know I'll come back to these characters in time. Never at this length or with this attention to detail, probably, but I'm pleased with what I've accomplished here.

At the risk of sounding Oscars speech-y, I want to thank you all for giving this story the support that kept me coming back to it time and time again. I'd also like to thank my college roomie who has been beta-reading and cheer-leading for me these past two years. I never would have finished this story in a vacuum.

I hope you enjoy this last chapter of Come With Me Now!

___________________________________________________

So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light

‘cause oh that gave me such a fright

but I will hold as long as you like

just promise me we’ll be all right

___________________________________________________

Edward's final act as governor of his own little cove was to finally affix a proper headstone to his late wife's false grave.

He had delayed the task longer than he had originally intended when he had buried the box of her letters just over a year earlier. This was in part because he had grown rather fond of the grave marker Mary had fashioned from an old stool seat. The carvings had held up quite well in that time and it had individuality to it. The time had come, however, to leave Caroline with a memorial that would last in the absence of his care.

The date was October 1723. Edward and Mary had tied up their loose threads in the West Indies. The Assassins had finished shifting their base of operations to Great Inagua. There were no longer any pressing matters keeping them tied to the Americas, and their agreed-upon year had come to an end. The day had come to sail for England.

Edward had truly pushed off this task until the last available moment. Their crew – what men who had chosen to leave with them – were at the docks preparing the Jackdaw for the departure. Mary was in the manor giving each room a last comb-over to ensure they hadn't forgotten any necessary or treasured belongings in their packing. Meanwhile, Kenway was elbow-deep in the dirt with a trowel.

When the hole was reasonably deep enough to hold it firm, Edward shifted the tablet stone away from the tree where it had been propped up and lowered the bottom third into the earth. With a huff, he sat back on his knees to admire his work.

He reached out to brush his fingers across the engraving and muttered, "Two years, I promised you. It turned into eleven, but I'm leaving now. I'm coming back, and I'll come to visit you when I get there. That's a promise I'll keep. I do that these days… I'll find your real resting place, and I'll sit with you whenever I'm in Bristol, just as I have here beneath this tree the past year." He pulled his fingers back from the lines that traced out her name. "I'll see you so soon."

When he had finished repacking the earth around the new headstone, he rose, dusted himself off, and tucked the stool seat under his arm. He made for the house, taking in his lovely garden for the last time as he went. He was satisfied, on Ah Tabai's word, that the false grave would remain in place for as long as the Brotherhood held the cove.

He entered the main hall of the manor and was struck, as he always was, by the grandeur. His eyes fell over every painting and trinket he and his men had won on their travels and brought back there to adorn the walls of their base with. Every trophy, every scuff on the woodwork, every empty bottle told a story of a sailor truly living. He had built something out of this room, something he was proud of. Each of his finest deeds had come together in some way to scaffold what this cove had become.

Beyond the memories he shared with his crew in that house, it had been the cradle where his relationship with Mary had found its legs. She had been at his side when they'd taken the cove, had led him to the manor through the tunnel she'd found in its bowels. It had been in the office where she'd first urged him to the aid of the Assassins, at the docks where she'd invited him to Tulum, and on the patio where they'd finally torn down their defenses and begun to stitch their hearts into one.

He imagined, perhaps, that giving over guardianship of this cove and all its memories to his Assassin brothers would be a small glimpse of what he might one day feel when Jennifer was grown and married and starting a new life with a partner of her own. I cared for her. I watched her grow. I gave her what I had, and she turned it into something greater than myself. She has been my life's great joy, and now I trust you to treasure her the same.

He gave a bittersweet sigh, trailing his fingers over the rough, paint-chipped grain of the back of his usual chair at the head of the long banquet table. He allowed himself five long breaths to imprint the room in his mind's eye. Then, he left through the door opposite the one he had come in.

His heart smiled when his eyes fell on his wife. Mary sat at a small, round table in the sunshine just outside the door. On its surface rested two cups, a bottle of rum, and the journal that held her research and communications on Precursor artifacts. Her hair was tied up in her disguise as James Kidd, but she held herself as Mary. She had an easy set to her shoulders and mouth that told him she was relaxed, present in the moment, unconcerned about who was looking or how she was perceived.

"You didn't nearly forget that was locked in my desk, did you?" he asked, pulling out a chair for himself and gesturing to her notebook.

She offered him a warm smile and poured a drink into the empty cup, sliding it across the table. "I rather had a mind to keep it under lock and key 'til we were ready to sail." She shrugged. "It's too valuable to leave unattended on deck. It's a good job it didn't slip my mind though." She nodded toward the wooden grave marker he'd leaned against the leg of the table. "You bringing that along?" Her tone was amused.

He nodded with a humble grin. "I found it strangely difficult to part with," he answered around the rim of his cup. "Much like this here cove." He gestured generally with his gaze at the grandeur of their surroundings. He imagined their accommodations in London, once they'd settled, would be spectacular. There, however, in Great Inagua, he was a king, and a beloved one at that. He wondered if his heart would ever be graced by that feeling again, to be a leader among men alike in mind and purpose. He hoped he would, in some capacity or another. For all he knew though, he was leaving it behind on the docks.

Mary thumbed the handle of her mug thoughtfully. "I feel like I'm parting with Nassau all over again, though I didn't know that's what I was doing the last time I was there. I didn't know that was a final goodbye, the way I do now."

Edward nodded in mournful agreement. "I think I did. When Vane and I broke through that blockade with his fireship, there was something final about it. Perhaps I might return to the island, I had thought at the time, but our Republic, the community we had built with Thatch and Hornigold and all the rest, that had died the very day Rogers brought the King's Navy to our shores."

She reached across the table to give a reassuring touch to his hand that was picking at the grain of the wood. "At least we know this community here will stand long after we've left it to our stern."

He gripped her hand tightly in return and cast his gaze out over the valley below. From where he sat, he could just barely see the crosstrees of the Jackdaw and the rooftops of the trim shanties and huts of the village. The air buzzed with life and opportunity. The morning was late, and the sun shone high over the liveliness of his dominion. Its warmth was reflected in the pride he carried in his heart; no longer pride for who he was, but rather for what he had helped create.

A short distance down the patio, Assassins and pirates drank together at a large table by the banister. Smiles and friendly jests seemed to waft among them like a gentle breeze. For an endless moment, the scene shifted in Edward's eyes to one he had always dreamed of making a reality, but which had never borne fruit: his fellow devils of the sea, all gathered amicably at his manor, sharing a bottle with not a care in mind.

He saw Stede Bonnet, all draped in merchant's finery and smiles. The portly old chap had carried such a heart for adventure and contempt for domesticity, though perhaps piracy had not been the optimal way for him to explore those sentiments. Such a kind-hearted man had not deserved to meet his maker at the hangman's noose. Edward prayed, wherever his widow and children were, that they were well and remembered Stede fondly.

At Bonnet's side sat Vane. As brash and uncorked as he'd always been, Edward had truly liked Charles and counted him as a friend. The man had had a clever eye for mischief and malfeasance that he expected would not find its parallel in their lifetimes. That was how he wanted to remember Vane, and that was how he envisioned him at that table. His eventual madness and betrayal were long forgiven and forgotten.

The counterbalance to Vane's cockiness that had thrown Edward's life expertly askew was Jack Rackham's wildness. A true beast with a bottle, he'd been, and there was little love lost between them. So many evils of past years had been set in motion by that catalyst of a man. Edward could forgive him for all but that which had cost Anne and Mary so dearly. That grudge was not yet ready to die. Despite it all, Calico Jack had been an influential figure in Nassau and Kenway's youth all the same, and they'd shared more than a few jovial pints in the golden days of their pirate republic. He appeared at the table in Edward's mind's eye with the rest, his cheek propped on his fist and a tipsy, peaceful grin on his face.

His feelings about Hornigold, seated across the table, were perhaps the most complicated he held for any of his old friends. None of the men he'd killed before or since had cursed him with as many sleepless nights. He respected Ben, truly, in spite of how things had ended up. The mentor to his mentor, he'd been a man of true esteem and poise. He'd always been searching for something bigger, something more meaningful than even Nassau could provide. They'd had that in common. Regrettably, however, Hornigold had found it in the Templars. Edward knew his friend believed he'd found the answer to poverty, disease, oppression, all of it, and that Torres had held the key to prosperity for every man. Perhaps there was some kernel, some seed of goodness to the world their Order sought to bring forth, but Kenway was equally convinced that no mortal man could hold such a powerful key and not be corrupted by it. It was that corruption that had led Benjamin to his end on Edward's blade, but as the Assassin reflected on the days the old man had spent carefully training him to command the respect of his crew and fear of his victims, he knew he would only remember Hornigold in fond terms.

At Ben's side, he pictured Anne. Sweet, sweet Anne, with flowers in her hair and a confidence in her manner that the most lush and arrogant man in their ranks could never hope to rival. She'd been a perplexing blend of crass and elegant that had brought joy to all who were blessed to have known her. In truth, her death had rattled him to his core because he had truly thought her invincible against all the particular evils these islands had to bear. She'd been an angel in a hellhole and had not earned her fate. Her loss had been the final, great failing of Edward's greed and hubris. If he was cursed to live in a world where her absence echoed so loudly, he would do his very best to honor her with his life.

Bernard Kenway had been an outstanding father, as they come, but Edward had been a less than exemplary son. For the boy that he had been when he'd reached the West Indies, however, Thatch had been the father he'd needed. He saw him then, sitting at the head of the table where he belonged, just as he had sat at the head of Nassau. Edward still felt his absence in every room of important people. When decisions were being made, plans being laid, he often found himself pausing to give space for the gruff words of wisdom that would never again come. Fuck this world and fuck its gold, Edward thought, remembering his mentor's final words. You were always a hero to your men, Thatch. He and everyone he'd known and loved in the past decade would be forgotten by history as scoundrels and traitors, he knew that, but Jenny and any siblings she might have would be raised on bedtime stories of Blackbeard, the most fearsome and admirable pirate who ever lived. If his descendants knew the name, that would be enough. Edward Thatch deserved a legacy.

Mary squeezed his hand lightly, jarring him out of his reverie. She gave him a sad, knowing smile. "The ghosts haunt you too, do they?"

He nodded, blinking against the stinging in his eyes. The men at the table morphed back into their brothers and crewmen. "In every tavern. At every party."

Her gaze was sorrowful and understanding. "Any place where men are drunk and merry." She raised her glass a little higher before bringing it to her lips, a small, private toast to those lost. "London society could never appreciate the pleasures of frivolity as they did."

He tapped his mug to hers. "Of the things we're leaving behind, I think I'll miss them most of all."

"You don't think they'll follow us to England?" Her tone was sad, but unsurprised.

"They belong here. If we'd died a handful of years back, we'd belong here too. Our memories will go where we do, but their spirits will remain in these jungles." He paused for a moment. "Perhaps one day we'll join them." He was almost hopeful they might.

Mary smirked. "If we live long enough to come back here, I doubt I'll want to live long enough to leave twice." She stood, pulling him to his feet by their linked hands. "But until then, we're needed a long way from here. Come on now. It's time we're off."

Edward picked up Caroline's makeshift headstone and Mary pocketed her not notebook. Leaving the bottle on the table behind, they descended the steps toward the gate that led to town. He stopped them there to turn back toward the manor for a final time. He pictured the ghosts at the table once more, imagining himself almost able to hear Anne's singsong voice and Thatch's wheezing laughter on the wind. It would have been a privilege to sail away with any one of them, but he was taking the one friend he truly had to have at his side. That would have to be enough for this lifetime.

He turned and kissed his wife, long and gentle. "The only place I'm needed is wherever you happen to be."

___________________________________________________

So lead me back

Turn south from that place

And close my eyes from my recent disgrace

‘Cause you know my call

We’ll share my all

Now children come

And they will hear me roar

___________________________________________________

A small crowd had gathered on the docks for their departure. Their crewmen were saying goodbye to their loved ones, having a last cup of rum with their friends, pleading with their favorite dancers to stay in their arms just a moment longer and cry a little when they left port. A number of them, Edward knew, had intent to return after a year or two, but none seemed to be able to resist the sentimentality and celebrity of such a departure.

He and Mary made a point to stop and shake the hand of each captain in their fleet as they pushed toward the Jackdaw. At the gangplank of their vessel, Ikal and Glenna were helping load the last crates of supplies. Glenna gave them polite smiles but moved out of their way without a word. It was as warm of farewell as Kenway had hoped to receive. Ikal, in contrast, passed off the crate in his arms to another sailor in order to address them. Edward placed the stool seat on top of it as the man passed him to board the ship, intending to collect it later once he had his crew settled on the open sea.

"I wouldn't worry about her, were I you," he said with a touch of affection and a smirk about his partner. "She bears you no ill will anymore, though I doubt your absence will be greatly noted."

"I would expect nothing more," Mary laughed. She pulled him into an amicable embrace. "I'm glad to part as friends, truly."

"I am, as well," he agreed, releasing her.

Edward offered his hand, which Ikal took without hesitation. "I can never repay you for the service you did our family in helping to find Jennifer."

Ikal smiled pleasantly. "No, I don't suppose you can." With a last nod to Mary, he followed Glenna down the docks.

Edward and Mary exchanged an amused glance and boarded their ship. He greatly doubted they'd ever hear from that pair again.

The deck was all a bustle of activity as final preparations were made for departure. Massey darted in front of them, doing his best to chase the black and white cat that hunted their rats down below deck where it would not get under foot. Jenny toddled over to them, awkwardly carrying the fluffy gray tabby that loved Mary so well. The animal was nearly as long as the girl was tall, and it hung limply with its forelegs stuck straight out ahead. Its expression was unsettled but it didn't make any effort to wriggle free of her grasp. Edward had never met such a tolerant animal, though he'd still rather have a dog. Cats might be better mousers on ships, but wouldn't do much in the way of protecting an estate, he expected.

"What a wonderful helper you are! Thank you for catching that kitty!" he praised his daughter. Mary scooped the cat up and Edward bundled Jenny into his arms.

"Uncle Muh-see not help!" she pointed out, clearly amused by her babysitter's lack of success. She was all smiles that morning.

"No, he's no help at all, is he?" he encouraged, nuzzling his nose against hers, making her scrunch up her face and giggle.

A frazzled Massey worked his way back toward them after securing the first cat below deck. Mary passed the other off to him and it leaned into his embrace eagerly. "I don't suppose you'd stay on as our governess when once we've established ourselves in England?" Mary chided warmly.

The lad gave a playful huff. "As it happens, I've secured employment already." The news clearly excited him. "Bell's sister was recently married to an horologist's son in the city, and the family was gracious enough to offer us positions at the shop. We'll mostly be running errands, delivering clocks and the like, but I'm hopeful the old man will teach us the trade one day." He cast their daughter an affectionate grin. "We'll cross paths at the London bureau though, I'm sure, and I imagine I'll call on you often. Any chance to see the little Lady Jenny." The girl clapped at the sound of her name. She reached out her arms for him and Edward passed her over.

"Well, we're glad you're coming with us all the same," Edward patted Massey on the back as he and Jenny made their way to the upper deck. The young sailor nodded to Adéwalé and Ah Tabai as they passed on the stairs.

"It's hard to believe you won't be here tomorrow," Adé greeted his old captain with a firm hug.

"I'm in as much disbelief about it as you are, mate," Edward breathed.

"Have you decided on a heading?" his friend asked.

"Bristol!" he declared. "I've got some business I need to settle there before I can truly begin my life anew. Once we've finished, we'll find somewhere to settle for good."

"If the wind ever carries you to England, you'll have a warm bed and a seat at our table," Mary assured him as they hugged as well. "You need only ask. Both of you."

"I do not think our kind would be welcomed in such a corner of the world," Ah Tabai sighed. "but there will always be a home for you and your family in these waters if you find yourselves dissatisfied with the stillness of high society."

She smiled warmly. "I doubt either of us will ever be truly still. We'll keep that close in mind, though." She turned to Adé again and procured the small notebook from her coat. She pressed it into his hands. "These are all the notes I have from my communications with our brothers in the colonies. I've written ahead for you, so they'll know of my departure by now. They're chasing some fascinating leads on Precursor sites at the moment. I expect you'll enjoy the work."

He took the notes with a grateful nod. "Perhaps we're due for a meeting, too. I would like to see more of the Americas before my days are done." He clasped Mary and Edward by the shoulders, like he had when marrying them. "My dear friends, you'll write when you've safely landed. Understood?"

They smiled and nodded, hugging him together once more.

Edward turned to Ah Tabai and they clasped forearms in farewell. "Mentor," he started. "I must thank you. You gave me a final chance to prove myself, and I hope I've done justice to the faith you placed in me."

Ah Tabai laughed and held up his hands. "I cannot accept your thanks. In truth, I had given up on you, Edward Kenway. It was Mary who forced my hand, and I cannot say I am sad to see that her instinct continues to prove fruitful." He bowed his head. "Safe travels. May you honor the Creed, and may it bring you honor." He left them then, and Adéwalé followed him off the ship.

Mary and Edward waved them off. "I must say, I'll dearly miss his gravitas," he laughed. She rolled her eyes with a small smile.

Around them, the bustle was beginning to quiet. Preparations were largely finished and those who were not leaving with them began to disembark. The two of them moved toward the starboard side so as not to stand in the way. Men said their fond goodbyes as they passed. Edward knew each by name and did his best to etch their faces into his memory. He glanced over at Mary and could see by the set of her face that the weight of their departure was setting in for her.

Her hand went to her belt, settling on the ruby hilt of the dagger he'd gifted her so long ago, Venganza. Revenge. She pulled it free, balancing the weight between her palms, and looked at him. After a quiet moment, she said, "I don't need this anymore…" The words lingered on her tongue, like she was coming to grips with them in that very moment.

He laid his hand over hers. The steel between their fingers chilled his skin. "Then don't bring it with you."

She nodded and pulled back. Her fingers wrapped naturally around the well-worn leather grip and she paused, indulging in the sensation of its weight in her hand for a moment. Then she turned on her heel and pitched the dagger over the side of the ship, far out into cove. It sliced quietly through the gentle waves and sank, taking pains of the past along with it.

He set a hand on her shoulder and she sighed, seeming to release a weight off her heart. She looked back at him and there was new light in her eyes. "I'm ready now."

He smiled and led the way to the helm.

Jenny had settled to the right of the wheel with a toy. Looking at her then, Edward could scarcely believe he'd ever worried he might not love her. She had so much Mary in her, and a spirit uniquely her own. Every small thing she did or said was a marvel to him.

He was, for a moment, plagued by self-doubt, as he was more occasionally than he would have liked. The Atlantic crossing was not an easy journey. The life that waited for them on the other side was hardly safe, either. His mind went back to his argument with Mary on the evening of their marriage. A choice, he reminded himself, that was their agreement. In spite of his concerns, he could never quite bring himself to feel guilty for taking her away from the safety of the family that had once adopted her. He knew that, had she stayed with them and grown up as Maria Reyes, she would have known nothing but the easy and proper life he wished for her. A small part of him did mourn that loss for her. At his core, though, he must admit that he was still too selfish to truly regret taking it away from her. She belonged with her mother, and with him. In that sense, paired against that alternative, a choice was a blessing. A choice was enough. He couldn't wait to see what she would someday do with it.

"Captain!" Bell called, interrupting Edward's thoughts. The young sailor came to join them, Massey on his tail. "The men are ready to depart. Would you like to take the helm today, or shall I?"

Edward waved him off. "If this is the last time we'll steer the Jack out of this port, I would prefer to do it myself."

"You two go help at the mainmast," Mary suggested. 'We'll handle things up here.

"As you command, Master Kidd," Bell nodded. The set of his mouth was eager, excited. "We'll wait for your call." The two lads descended to their posts.

Edward huffed and tentatively curled his fingers around the underside of one handle on the wheel. He glanced down to his right palm and the long, white scar that ran across the skin there. It was the one Mary had given him when he had attacked her in his desperate panic at the Assassin graveyard, thinking her a ghost. The memory seemed so far away, though the mark was among the more recent that adorned his body. He pulled his gaze away from the thin, pale line and onto his wife at his side as she lifted their daughter to her hip. Jenny grabbed at the beads in Mary's hair – twins to those he still wore on his necklace – making her smile and shake her head to toss them around for the toddler's amusement. She noticed his stare as she did so and paused, giving him a puzzled look. He smiled back at her and touched his hand to her shoulder in their familiar gesture of trust and reassurance.

"I'm ready now too."

With a grin, she clasped his shoulder in return and glanced out over the deck. "Ready, lads!" she called out. "Loose all! Let's catch the wind!"

___________________________________________________

And the ghosts that we knew will

Flicker from view

And we’ll live a long life

___________________________________________________

Song: Ghosts That We Knew - Mumford & Sons

#CWMN Full Chapters #kiddway #edward kenway #mary read #james kidd

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higuchimon · 4 years

Text

[fanfic] Secret of Ears: Chapter 1

Ken carefully arranged his hair so that it fell over his ears, checking his reflection. The tips still pointed out of his hair, but not enough that anyone would call attention to them. He nodded; just the way that he liked them.

“Why do you hide those, Ken-chan?” Wormmon asked, peering up from where he sat on the back of the toilet.

Ken rested his hands over his ears for a few seconds before he turned to look at his partner. “Haven’t you seen other humans’ ears?”

Wormmon tilted his head, considering. “Well, yes. Yours aren’t like those.”

“I know.” Ken looked back at the reflection before he reached to pick Wormmon up and settle him on his shoulders. “But that’s why I don’t want people to see them.”

His ears were just different. The skin on them was paler than the rest of his body. But that really wasn’t the problem. He wouldn’t have cared if that was the only issue. They were pointed. Far more so than anyone else’s that he’d ever seen. He could keep his hair over the ends most of the time. No one had said anything about them for ages.

Though he did remember – long ago, when he’d been young, before his hair grew out to cover them. He didn’t remember the kid’s name, but one kid he’d played with at a park had – he shuddered just at the memory before he carried Wormmon out of the bathroom and into the living room.

Daisuke lay on the couch in the living room, V-mon next to him, chatting about the latest soccer scores with Ken’s dad. His dad didn’t play soccer, but he’d learned enough about it when Ken had to keep up with Daisuke.

“Ken!” Daisuke jerked up to his feet and grinned the moment Ken entered the room, previous conversation forgotten. “What took you so long?”

Ken just shook his head, ever so carefully. Daisuke knew about his ears but he never said a word about them. He never had, not since Ken started doing his best to be a better person.

“Are you ready?” Ken asked instead of answering. Daisuke wouldn’t press. He never did.

“Sure.” Daisuke waved at Ken’s dad, who waved back at him. “We can finish later?”

“Sure!” Mr. Ichijouji nodded. “You boys have fun and behave yourselves!”

Ken fought back a blush. His parents were well aware that the two of them weren’t only best friends. He thought they were a little sad that they’d never have biological grandchildren but Ken hadn’t ruled out the idea of adopting one day. He hadn’t talked about it with Daisuke or Wormmon, though. They were fifteen. There was so much time ahead of them.

Together the four of them headed out of the building. Daisuke chattered relentlessly the whole way, about at least half a dozen different topics, and Ken knew he was only required to nod and smile at the right points. He did listen, though. He loved hearing Daisuke babble about whatever was on his mind.

Right now it was ramen – which wasn’t a surprise since they were going out to have a ramen lunch. Daisuke insisted that he would have a ramen restaurant of his own one day and he searched for ramen all over the world. Ken didn’t even remember how many times he’d been taken out for ramen anymore. At least it was delicious – and Daisuke’s own cooking got better every time.

“You know, your ears aren’t that strange,” Daisuke said without warning. Ken stumbled over his own feet, catching himself, and staring at Daisuke.

“Where did that come from?” He raised one hand to make sure his hair remained tucked over the tips, while his other made sure Wormmon remained safe. Both those situations settled in his favor, he stared at Daisuke.

“I was just thinking, that’s all.” Daisuke shrugged. “I even know someone who has ears like that. Someone who isn’t you, I mean.”

Ken blinked, mouth working but not actually having nay words come out. He shook his head. No one else had those. He would have noticed – wouldn’t he?

“Yeah. You know him too.”

Ken didn’t have the chance to ask more questions, since they came to the train and they both had to worry with getting their tickets out and finding the right train. Once they got settled on their seats, he glanced around, not wanting anyone else to overhear this. While Digimon were known and the world remained in the process of adjusting to the existence of a fellow sapient species, there were always those who weren’t happy about it. He also suspected this conversation might bring up his past as the Kaiser and he really didn’t want that to be brought up around people who didn’t know.

There weren’t that many people around them right now. One little girl had her own Digimon partner, but no one else there seemed partnered. Ken nodded to himself, then turned to Daisuke, opening his mouth.

“Ichijouji? Is that you?”

It was a voice he didn’t recognize right away. But he wasn’t surprised that people he didn’t know knew his name – the remnants of fame clung to him, thankfully more for being a Chosen these days than anything else. He turned to see a teenager lurching down towards them. He was grinning wildly and threw himself casually into the seat next to Ken.

“Yes,” Ken murmured. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you…”

“Yeah, you probably wouldn’t,” the teenager agreed a little too cheerfully. “Tachibana Noriaki. We played together when we were kids. Before your brother -” He waved one hand in lieu of finishing the sentence. Ken held back a flinch and managed to nod. He could think about Osamu without it hurting much these days. But he still didn’t like hearing him mentioned without warning.

Tachibana regarded Daisuke carefully before he looked back at Ken. “I’ve seen you on the news. So you grew up to be a hero, huh?” He grinned at the way Ken blushed. Daisuke leaned forward.

“Was there ever any doubt? He’s the best hero!” Daisuke declared without a breath of hesitation.

Tachibana grinned, displayed teeth that looked as if he had been sponsored by a toothpaste company. “Well, when he was a kid, I wouldn’t have guessed. Little kid drawing all the time.” He shrugged before he reached over and dug one hand into Ken’s hair, grabbing onto his ear. “And with these ears -” He pulled on the tips.

Ken jerked away, eyes going wide, and Wormmon glared at Tachibana. “Stop touching Ken-chan!” He snapped, ready to spew out silk at a moment’s notice.

Tachibana tilted his head. “Man, what’s the problem? You’ve see those ears, haven’t you? How can you resist?”

“Pretty darned easily,” Daisuke snapped back. “Leave him alone.”

Tachibana drew his hand back. “If you’re gonna be that way about it. Just trying to have fun.” He snorted and got up, walking to a seat farther away from them.

Ken leaned back on his own chair, tucking his hair back over his ears, trying so very hard not to tremble and not doing a very good job of it. Daisuke rested one hand on Ken’s.

“You okay?”

Ken nodded a little. His ears weren’t just a bit larger and pointed, they were sensitive. Having someone yank on them like that would leave them red and burning for ages.

Daisuke grumbled a few words that Ken suspected his parents wouldn’t be happy to hear on his lips. They were in English, and he had a surprisingly good accent. Ken tried not to feel so very warm inside from knowing that was because Daisuke was upset over something happening to him.

Before Daisuke said anything else beyond the few profanities, both of their phones started beeping, alerting them to a text. Ken glanced at his and blinked. He hadn’t expected this at all.

“A meeting?” All of the original twelve Chosen being called together by Koushiro. He wasn’t sure of what this meant, but it had to be something important. Izumi Koushiro wouldn’t gather them all without a very good reason. “Change of plans?”

Daisuke sighed, tucking his hands behind his head and pouting. “I guess. We can hit up the ramen place afterward? If it’s not too late.”

Ken nodded. He didn’t want to lose this special time with Daisuke, no matter what the issue was.

At least they were on the right train to get to Izumi’s place. Ken wondered what they would need to talk about. Some sort of new villain? They didn’t really have regular meetings when there wasn’t someone they needed to fight. He wasn’t even sure if they’d had those when there had been. He hadn’t exactly asked back then.

He ran one hand over Wormmon’s back and tried to ignore the way his ears ached. He’d been so looking forward to having a pleasant trip to a new ramen place with Daisuke. Today wasn’t turning out to be his day.

To Be Continued

Notes: Tachibana is probably Uchiyama’s second cousin or something. Maybe I’ll make that my canon for them. Anyway, I didn’t mean this as a chaptered piece but I ran out of time and writing juice to make it a one-shot. The full hurt/comfort will be there by the end. As will how the breeds work into this. Though I’m sure you can guess, if you know what Piemon looks like. Extra Notes: As of August 5, 2020, this story is on indefinite hiatus. I intended to restart in September, but YGO GX Month came up and it gave me ideas. So, once that’s taken care of, I’ll return to my WIPs.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #digimon adventure 02 #ichijouji ken #motomiya daisuke #ken x daisuke #daisuke x ken #daikenweek2020 #chapters: secret of ears #au: breeds

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jjpmoans · 5 years

Text

Broken - Part 4

Summary:

Love, as crazy as it sounds, really blinds people. You can see people blindly falling in love, ignoring those who really love them, falling for someone whom, they have sworn they will never fall for. Love, for Jinyoung is to watch his girl happy, even if it means it’s not him. Even if means it’s not Jinyoung who get to whisper sweet things. It’s not Jinyoung who can hold her hands. It’s not Jinyoung who’ll be laying down with her on her bed, talking countless of things. It’s not him that she’ll wake up to. It’s not him, who has her heart.

Genre: angst / romance

Inspired song : Heartbreak Girl by 5 Seconds of Summer

Character : Park Jinyoung x female reader

Word counts : 2k+ words

[A/N]

If you’ve seen the announcement, you’ll know that this is basically my first GOT7 fanfic which was posted on Amino. I apologise for the cringiness and all. I hope you enjoy the content! This is totally unedited (except for the grammar) but I’ll edit the Epilogue because that one was kind of bad. Anyways, enjoy!

Broken will be posted every Wednesday at 8pm MYT starting 21st August.

[Masterlist]

____________________________________

I know someday it's gonna happen And you'll finally forget the day you met him

____________________________________ "What are you and the boys doing tonight?" she asks as soon as she takes a sit next to Jinyoung. Jinyoung puts down the book he is holding and watch her looking at him intently. She is all smiling, her face. And there're no more dark circles right under her eyes. And no more pale face which Jinyoung suspects from lack of eating. She looks healthy. And happier. It has been three months from the last crying phonecall. The day she met Jin, Jinyoung followed her without her knowing. She really brought Youngjae with her. Jinyoung did not know what help would Youngjae contribute when she brought him— honestly Jinyoung was much better option. Or maybe not. She could take Mark instead. He got a better punch. He saw her talking face to face with Jin. And Youngjae just stood next to her so lifeless that Jinyoung even questioned if he's breathing or not. But his annoyed face was there— so he's definitely breathing. Like Jinyoung, the rest of GOT7 hate Jin and his friends — except for Yugyeom because apparently he has a friend in their circle. Well hate is a strong word, maybe they dislike them because Jin and his friends are very good at breaking girls heart. But for Jinyoung, hate is the weakest word he could picture about Jin. He was raging and any curse word would not be enough. When he saw both of them talking and Jin was like smirking the whole time, it took his every ounce of patience not to barge inside the cafe and strangle the latter. How does she doesn't even slap him? When they finally finished talking, she had this calm face which Jinyoung recognised as you-cannot-cry-wait-until-you-got-home face. He sighed, of course he would be receiving another crying phone call tonight. While his thoughts were running through options to console her tonight, to his surprise, his phone started ringing inside his pocket. Then he realised that she was already calling him the moment she stepped out of the door. He fished his phone out and went for the green button where she spoke into the speaker furiously, "I don't know what's wrong with me BUT HOW DO I LIKE THOSE TYPE OF ARROGANT FUCKBOY?" she screamed into the phone. Jinyoung could clearly saw the horror in Youngjae's face when she screamed and kicked the flower pot outside the cafe when he chuckled at her response. "Well, I think that calls for some karaoke and food?" he suggested. "Call me in. And bring Jackson. I need his energy. And Yugyeom too. And Bambam—" "You should just say bring the whole GOT7. I think that is a less longer sentence." Youngjae cut in. "Whatever." she replies nonchalantly. "Jinyoung." she called him assure that he was still there. “I'm here, darling. Why?" he replied. “I'm such a stupid girl." she confessed. He laughed. Finally, his girl was back. "You are my stupid girl. Get out of that cafe and meet me at the field." "Jinyoung." she calls. "Yes?" "You are not answering me. What are you guys doing tonight?" Jinyoung widens his eyes, cursing himself for spacing out. He lets out a laugh and reply to her, "I think Youngjae has a date with Coco. Jaebum is up for a test. Jackson has a group discussion. Yugyeom and Bam— i don't remember." She hums, taking in every information he just told her. Once she registered all of them, she turns to him again with questioning eyes. "What are you doing tonight?" she emphasizes 'you' in her sentence. Jinyoung leans his head on top of the couch, he gives her a side glance before turning to her. "Well, apart from being alone in this house, I don't have anything else. Maybe a book date. What's up?" he asks. She takes a good stare at Jinyoung's face, thinking why hasn't she realise that Jinyoung is so handsome? She has been friend with him for years now— middle school to college. She even befriend his friends, the GOT7. But she never sets her eyes on him. Partly because she never take a good look at Jinyoung or maybe because if she did stare at him, she would not stare like a girl staring at her crush. But this moment she is staring at him, she couldn't help but to adore his look. She lets her eyes rake his whole face. His whisker smile, his thick eyebrows. His lips. His pointy ears. His black hair hanging just right on his forehead. Being friend with Jinyoung from middle school means she have gone through so much hairstyles Jinyoung put up on his head. But this hairstyle look so mature. It fits him so much that he looks so— boyfriend. "If you are going to stare at me for a longer time, I might think you are actually considering to make me your new boyfriend." he speaks. She jumps at his sudden intrudes but she laughs it away. "I just realises that you are handsome." she says honestly. Jinyoung and her has no secret to be honest. She is always talking her thoughts out. Like she thought that Jackson has a sexy body or that Jinyoung has a great peachy ass. She just blurt it out. "Do you say that to every single boy you are going to date? Because that works." he winks. If she doesn't know Jinyoung, she will think that he's really agreeing to a date. "No. Really Jinyoung. You are handsome. How come I never see you so handsome?" "Took you long enough to realise that." he flips his hair in cockiness. She laughs, agreed that it really took her long to realise that. "Obviously you are blind because don't you see how many girls are eyeing me in the field I was reading? It's disturbing." he complains. She did saw them. But she thought they were eyeing Jinyoung because he is reading. Well— in their college, it's hard to see a boy reading under a tree, his concentration is fully on the book. It's just new and interesting. "I saw them okay. I thought they just thought you are weird — which is true," she receives a slap from Jinyoung which she laughs even louder. "But I never see you the same way. At least not until now." she confesses. Really, it feels like suddenly, Jinyoung looks so perfect in her eyes. Call her stupid but she thinks that Jinyoung should be her first boyfriend. "You don't flatter me honey. Tell me what's up in your sleeves. I am not giving in to any of your antics. What do you want from me?" he asks curiously. She can't blame him though. He lives with 6 other boys who are always nice when they want something. If GOT7 are acting nice to you, please check your purse or credit card. They might already use up all your allowance. "Let's go on a date tonight." she says. Jinyoung blinks. He study her face carefully to find any prank she's pulling off. None. "Jinyoung." she snaps him from his trance. "What?" She moves forward to side hug Jinyoung and look at him expectantly. "Let's go on a date. I think it's been too long since we last went out together," so it's true. She's asking him out. A friend date but there's nothing happier for Jinyoung than going out with her. "Where do you want to go?" he asks softly. His hand reaches to fix her hair which has been a mess since she drops her head on the couch. "Anywhere with you." she replies. Her eyes show too much sincerity and reflects the happiness she is having, Jinyoung has no clue how swell his heart is by looking at her. God. He loves her so much. ________________________________________

Sometimes you're so close to your confession, I gotta get it through your head That you belong with me instead.

________________________________________ It's already September. One year from her breakup. Both of them are back being glued together, everyday and everywhere.

Wherever she is, Jinyoung will be there. They are the talk of the college to be honest. There is even an unspoken rule where only she can end up with Jinyoung. If there is anyone who Jinyoung will date, it will be her.

That is not really a concern for Jinyoung. It's true and he secretly thanked the crowd to rule this one because that stops all the girls eyeing him during his book date which irritate him to death. "Oh look! The campus couple." Yugyeom exclaims as he walk in the house and see both Jinyoung and his girl cuddling up on the couch, her head on his chest, scrolling her phone while there's a book in Jinyoung's hand. Both of them stops the job at their hand to look at the youngest housemate. "What brings you to disturb us at this holy time?" he ignores his greeting and asks him straight. "If this can ease you, there are 5 more people coming in—" the front door is greeted with boys noises, "— right now." he finishes his sentence. "Heyyy lovebirds." Jaebum comes in. "Yoooo campus hotties." Mark greets with plastic bags in his hands. "Why do you guys come home so early?" Jinyoung asks curiously. "The meeting is cancelled because the president wanted to see you, but you didn't come. So she lets us go." Jaebum says. "Wuhhhhh hi Jinyoung hyung and Jinyoung hyung's girlfriend." Bambam walks through the door, stumbling over the shoes. "That's kinda creepy. She calls the meeting off just because Jinyoung is not there? What is the meeting for? To meet Jinyoung?" she asks. "You!" Jackson exclaims as he struggles with the plastic bags. "Get off Jinyoung's chest! It's mine!" hearing that, she quickly tries to scramble off Jinyoung's chest when she feel his hand pushing her closer, not wanting her getting off him. "Stop scaring her." Jinyoung's voices rumbles through his lung. "Apparently, yes." Jaebum replies. "But it's good anyways. We got to restock the food." "Ohh. Hi soulmates. What are you guys doing?" Youngjae is the last one to walk through the door. He takes a seat on the nearest couch while Jaebum on his left and the others shuffling in the kitchen to organize the groceries they just bought. "You know about that 'When 40 people tell you the same thing, it might gonna happen' quote?" she asks. The rest of the boys nods, familiar with the quote. "If you guys make another 34 people call us campus couple. I'm not surprise if we really end up couple." she laughs. Of course they always tease them both about the campus couple. But she knows them enough not to take their words to heart. She's the only one who probably doesn't stoned when she said those words. Because apparently everyone stiffen and take a good look at Jinyoung. He himself is stoned when she said that casually. Yugyeom is the one who breaks the silence by laughing. "You guys aren't an item yet? Come on. Date already." Everyone knows Jinyoung likes her. But she's just too dense to sense. "I don't want to." Another silence surround them. This time, Jinyoung's heart drops at her reply. "If anything happens and we end up apart, I don't know how I can live without Jinyoung." she explains. The whole house echoes with awwws and hoots until she feel herself burning with embarrassment and hide her face in Jinyoung's chest. He laughs, hugging her tightly to his chest so that the boys cannot see her face. "I would never leave you. If that's what you are afraid of." Jinyoung states. "Ai wuvv myum pweas wow weave mwe," She mumbles incoherent words from his chest, which Jinyoung manages to catch as 'I love you please don't leave me.' His breath hitches, his heart thumping wildly at her mumble. Is that a confession? "What did you just say?" he detaches her from his chest. Her face is red which he assumes as an aftermath of embarrassment. When she opens her mouth to reply, disappointment greets him again. "Please don't leave me." "You look awful," Bambam greets him in the morning. He wakes up early and tiptoes toward the kitchen to be greeted by a messy Jinyoung. His hair is sticking out in every direction and his face look completely blank. "Thank you. That's so not obvious." he replies sarcastically. A verbal sigh escapes his lips and he shoves another glass of milk down his throat. "I certainly don't know what is your problem but there is a reason why that white thing is called milk." Jinyoung stares blankly at Bambam who tries to peel the glass of his fingers. "You don't drink milk in one shot. IN A HIGH GLASS NOT TO MENTION." he shrieks. "So I'd be forgiven if I drink milk in a vodka glass shot?" Jinyoung asks. Bambam grabs the milk carton and narrows his eyes to the older brother. "Drinking milk in one shot is not forgiven no matter how small the glass is." "You are going to stress him out. Stop that Bam." Mark walks toward the kitchen to join the two younger brothers. Bambam passes the glass and milk carton for Mark, not forgetting to glare at Jinyoung. "She's not awake yet?" Mark asks, sipping the milk. Jinyoung slides his eyes to the couch, where he sleeps with her last night. She's still there, cheeks pressed to the pillow and a blanket all over her body. "No. She's not a morning person." Jinyoung replies. "Tell me what's wrong with him." Bambam asks. "This morning he drank the milk in one shot using a normal glass. He could have died. Tell me I'm hallucinating." he whispers. "If this can assure you, I can hear clearly what you said to Mark hyung. You don't have to whisper." Jinyoung states flatly. Mark laughs at his blunt reply as Bambam tries to counter back. "I didn't whisper for you. I whispered because I want to." "Don't you think it's time to let her know that you loves her?" Mark cuts in. Jinyoung is staring holes at the couch and if stare can burn, the couch will be on fire. "I don't think she ever need to know." Jinyoung replies. He is afraid of everything. What if their friendship go down the drain because of his confession? "Why not?" Bambam asks. It actually irritate all of them with Jinyoung's persistence not to let her know about his feelings. He had been in love with her for years. But she irritates them even more. How can she be with Jinyoung but so dense to see that he loves her? "What if she doesn't love me? What if our friendship go down? What if she decides to hate me because I've been hiding it for so long and it disgust her?" Jinyoung's thoughts go out like a bullet train. It scares him to think that one day, she'll hate him. "Did she?" Three of them turn to the voice. Jaebum is standing by the fridge, arms crossed. "What?" Jinyoung asks. Jaebum tilts his head toward the girl sleeping on the couch. "Did she ever say that?" Jinyoung scoff. "Of course not. She—" "Then why are you assuming so much?" Jaebum's question throws him off guard. He never had an answer for that. "If she never said anything, then why are you assuming? Who are you to assume her actions?" Jaebum attacks. Honestly it irks him. And he wants both of them to get together. Certainly Jinyoung must make a move of he'll be stuck in the friendzone again. "But—" "Jaebum is right. Bring her out on date or spend your whole life drinking milk in one shot." Mark says. His threat seems ridiculous but Jinyoung knows too well that he's gonna stuck his whole life drinking milk in one shot if he doesn't try anytime soon. "Actually. I don't recommend drinking milk in one shot." Bambam tries to cut in. "It is certainly unhealthy. So please bring her out on a date." "We can help you plan if you want." Jackson says, coming out behind the wall, grinning while Yugyeom trails behind him sleepily. "You? Planning a date? No way. I'd rather Jinyoung hyung stucked drinking milk his whole life." Youngjae replies, emerging from under the counter. "How on earth do you appear from there?" Bambam shrieks when Youngjae appears. "You need to be more focus. Like right now." Youngjae signals Bambam to turn his head towards Jinyoung. He turns to see Jinyoung is already inhaling the milk, again finishing it completely in one shot. "Holy shit." Bambam, Jackson and Yugyeom exclaim. "He should be drunk by now." Jaebum laughs. He indeed look drunk. But his eyes are shooting heart and love as he watches his favorite person shifting under the blanket, rubbing her cheeks to feel the warmth of the pillow. ____________________________________________

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Posted on 18th September 2019, 8.30 pm MYT

#got7 jinyoung #got7 jinyoung fic #got7 jinyoung angst #got7 jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung #jinyoung got7 #jinyoung got7 fanfic #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung series #got7 jinyoung series #jinyoung angst #jinyoungmoans series #broken

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elesianne · 4 years

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A Silmarillion fanfic, chapter twenty-five – Last chapter

Chapter summary: The wedding day, which is for their families, and the night, which is for Carnistir and Tuilindien alone.

Rating: Teen and up audiences; Chapter length: ~6,700 words

Chapter notes: Here it is, the last, long chapter of this story. I hope my readers like it. I loved writing it, bringing these characters and their long courting to a happy conclusion.

The very end implies, hmm, marital activity. Though I don't describe it in any detail and I don't think it comes close to meriting an M rating, I wanted to mention it here in case someone wants to avoid it.

Many details of Valinorean marriage ceremony are from Laws and Customs among the Eldar (HoME 10), and some I made up.

(Read on AO3)

Chapter XXV // Love bound by gold

The morning of the wedding it rains.

Tuilindien eats breakfast in bed – Indis had it arranged that way – looking out of the window on the opposite wall. She would prefer fine weather, but the rain does not truly matter. Nothing could suppress or outshine the warmth in her heart.

That warmth is almost enough to make her not even feel nervous. She is a little nervous as she expected to be, but only about being at the centre of attention all day.

She has had a tiny but insistent seed of anxiety in her chest ever since she decided to ask Carnistir to marry her that she might feel doubt or hesitation on her wedding day, even though she has not felt it on any day before for a long time now.

As she sits on the edge of her bed, keeping her bare feet off the cool floor, and looks out to the rainy garden, she feels at peace. Expectant, yes, and excited, and that little bit nervous, but perfectly at peace with what she has decided.

It is time for a new kind of life, and against her own expectations, she feels ready for it now that this moment is here. She feels that she has what she needs to build a new life for herself in Tirion: as Carnistir's wife, as a scholar, as a Vanya among Noldor, as a protégé of Nerdanel and Indis. She will keep of her own life what she can: for all that she loves Carnistir with all that she is, she loved her old life too. Her family, her home, all the public spaces and the hidden places she used to spend her hours in in the settlement around king Ingwë's palace.

She will keep them all close in her memory and her dreams, and she will visit as much as she can and write when she cannot.

It still hurts to think of living so far from her family – it always must, she suspects – but it is a hurt she can bear with acceptance and equanimity.

She realises that she woke earlier than she needed to, so she sits back on the bed, leaning against the soft padded headboard, tucking her feet under her. She listens to the rain and lets herself sink into imagining soft touches from strong hands, and sweet words, and all the good things that she hopes for from the night to come, if not the public celebration of the day.

The day is for their families, the night for Carnistir and her alone.

Her mother comes to her when some time has passed. Tuilindien does not know much, but the rain has started beating down harder while she was lost in her hopes.

Sailiel comes alone. Usually she and all her daughters dress and prepare for feasts and celebrations together, with each of them helping the others, even little Wilwarindëa as much as she can with her clumsy fingers. It is a family tradition.

But Tuilindien is also accustomed to her mother knowing, without being told, when she needs peace and quiet. This morning her mother's calm presence and practised movements suit her own mood well.

Sailiel asks, 'Are you well this morning, my darling?' as she enters Tuilindien's room, and after Tuilindien replies that she is very well, they speak little.

Sailiel lays out her own dress and jewellery that she brought with her while Tuilindien washes her face. Sailiel has already braided her hair into a high crown decorated with tiny yellow jewels.

'I am all here for you, my darling.' Sailiel smiles at her daughter in the mirror as Tuilindien sits down at the dressing table. 'Have you changed your mind, do you want more than the flowers in your hair?'

Tuilindien smiles back at her mother's reflection. 'Just the flowers, thank you.'

They'd agreed on a hairstyle before they even came to Tirion. Sailiel simply brushes her daughter's curls until they shine as a rushing river of dark gold down her back, and weaves in small white flowers. Tuilindien knows that they shall stay beautiful and unwilted all day for as her mother picks up each bloom, she hums a low, melodic tune that Tuilindien can feel holds in it some power.

It is peaceful, nonetheless, the humming and her mother's careful movements, and Tuilindien enjoys the serenity of the morning.

Sailiel helps Tuilindien into her dress, careful of her hair and the many flowers adorning it. Sailiel dresses too and puts on her jewellery. She wears many more jewels than her daughter: sparkling colours in her ears, around her wrists and neck as well as in her hair.

Tuilindien wears only her silver ring which she will soon exchange for gold.

Her mother embraces her before they go. There are no words spoken, only feelings shared through the wordless connection that is weaker than the one Tuilindien shares with Carnistir but which has been a comfort to her all her life.

Her mother's embrace makes Tuilindien feel as though she were ensconced in a warm blanket instead of her light, gauzy dress, and going to join the rest of her family and being embraced by all of them in turn makes the glow in her fëa even warmer.

When they go to the great feasting hall and she sees Carnistir on the other side of the room wearing silver-grey clothes and a stern expression but also an excited blush, she feels her hröa must be glowing too.

Carnistir rouses early to Huan barking and the twins shouting – the former no doubt caused by the latter, as Huan is exceedingly well-behaved when not provoked – and finding rest again seems impossible.

For a moment he considers going to tell the dog and children alike to be quiet but he doesn't feel very inclined to do it, his irritation tempered by the happy awareness that it is the day he is to marry Tuilindien, and that tomorrow he will wake up beside her.

He lies there in his bed, staring up at the grey marble ceiling with its swirls and veins that he knows by heart, thinking of Tuilindien. But thinking of her brings frustration, too, because there are many hours left before the feast for their union even begins. He did not mean to wake this early.

He rolls over to his stomach and pulls a pillow over his ears.

When he rises not much later, having given up on rest, he washes and dresses in the clothes that have been carefully laid out. The surcoat is of charcoal grey with a hint of silver in the brocade fabric – only a hint, for Carnistir does not want to appear a glittering fool. The trousers are plain, fine linen in a lighter grey shade.

There is a cloak, too, of darker grey with a lining of burgundy velvet. His mother gave the cloak to him. It is unnecessarily warm for the crowded feasting hall where the ceremonies will take place, and Carnistir has a brief debate with himself about wearing it. Tuilindien will no doubt be wearing something of a lightweight fabric and pale colour that looks like light flowing down her body, as usual.

After a long moment of staring out of his window into the rainy garden he throws on the cloak. It is not like they will not look an unmatched pair anyway, even without the cloak. They are not like Tuilindien's sister and her husband, both fair-haired and delicate-featured, nor like Makalaurë and Tinweriel with their dark hair, equal height and fashionable clothes.

Carnistir doesn't pretend, not even to himself, that he understands why, with all their differences, he and Tuilindien love each other and connect as they do. It is enough that we do, he thinks, face no doubt flushed, as he leaves the peace of his room and enters the fray that is breakfast with his family.

The chaos lasts until the minute he and his father leave. They ride to the palace together, the rest of the family following not much behind. His mother kisses him on the forehead before they leave, her wish for his happiness clear though she doesn't put it into words.

Fëanáro says little on the short ride, and Carnistir even less. He doesn't want to start a fight with his father, and he has a feeling he might do it quite accidentally. It is safer to be silent. It is enough anyway – the most that he could realistically have expected – that his father is by his side on the morning of his wedding.

Even if Fëanáro seems to have trouble keeping a discontented look off his face.

Finwë couldn't beam with any more pride, though, when he comes to personally escort his son and grandson into the large room where the wedding feast is to be celebrated. It is the same hall where Carnistir officially betrothed himself to Tuilindien, now decorated in spring greenery. Carnistir spares a moment to think of how much effort it must have taken to gather that much green this early in the spring. He then paces around, getting in the way of the servants' last preparations, until his grandfather and father take him to a more private side chamber.

'It is my duty as your father to stop you making a spectacle of yourself today, Morifinwë', his father grumbles, though not unsympathetically.

'You had better stop Curvo from making one of himself later when he gets into the wine, too', Carnistir grumbles back.

He sits down and forces himself to stay still without fidgeting. He knows he can do it.

There is a tapestry of some hunting scene on the wall opposite of him and he quietens his mind by studying every single detail in it until it is time to step into the feasting hall again.

When he opens the door he sees Tuilindien. She is some distance away next to her mother who is, from afar, very similar in looks. But he could never mistake Tuilindien for Sailiel or anyone else, for as soon as he sees her, in his chest flares into life the dear, indescribable, wordless connection that leads him to her surer than a beacon in the dark.

His father, or grandfather perhaps, says something, but Carnistir is already walking away to his bride. She is dressed in one of her layered, draped dresses of diaphanous silk chiffon, this time in palest gold. It makes her hair and skin glow darker by comparison. She has white flowers in her beautiful hair.

He doesn't know if he appears to others shy and stilted on this day but if he does, it doesn't matter. He takes Tuilindien by the hand that for now bears his silver ring, and he tells her, 'You are utterly lovely, and I am very happy.'

'Carnistir.' Her smile makes her eyes bright, too. 'I am very happy too, already.' She touches his cheek quickly, gently, and he feels love pulsing from her, bright and tender. She then turns to curtsy deeply to someone behind him. 'Your majesty, your highness.'

His grandfather and father followed him, then. Carnistir mentally shakes himself to awareness of his surroundings beyond Tuilindien.

The first thing he sees is the amused face of his law-mother-to-be. He bows to her hurriedly.

Their rest of their parents and grandparents arrive and exchange pleasantries. Carnistir notes that his mother has a tight hold on his father's arm. He hopes and trusts that she will hold onto Fëanáro all day. His father has not said any rude things about Tuilindien lately, but neither Carnistir nor Nerdanel trust him entirely in that regard yet.

Carnistir doesn't let go of Tuilindien's hand either while they wait for the last guests to arrive and settle in their seats along the long tables.

There are welcoming words from Finwë, a musical piece from Makalaurë and Tinweriel (a love song, as is to be expected at a wedding feast; Pityafinwë, Telufinwë, and Tyelkormo make faces during it anyway), and then there is the sumptuous feast itself, with every Noldorin and Vanyarin delicacy on offer.

Carnistir tries some of both, but he has little appetite. He has attended many weddings in his life but only now does it occur to him that the feasting part of the feast should be last, not first, for it feels like an insurmountable ambition to even try and be sociable and appear presentable while waiting for the actual ceremony.

(Will his father embarrass him and Tuilindien? Will Carnistir himself embarrass Tuilindien?)

Once again it seems both fortunate and embarrassing that he has created for himself a reputation, both among family and people who don't know him well, of one who despises small talk and prefers to be alone. Few people attempt to talk to him.

Or perhaps it is as Tuilindien says when she squeezes his knee under the table and whispers to him, too quiet to be heard but with the aid of their soundless bond, 'It is not expected of couples to be excellent conversationalists at their own wedding feast.'

Her words appear to be for the comfort of both of them, so Carnistir squeezes back and tells her that he agrees.

She doesn't talk much either, mainly listens to various members of his and her family as they reminisce about their own weddings.

But she helps him.

When it is clear that he should say something but he struggles to think of it soon enough or is about to say something rude, she replies on his behalf. She does it in her own quiet, gentle way, and doesn't do it too often, and it doesn't anger Carnistir.

It is a relief, and helps him relax.

When the moment arrives that the servants have emptied the tables and the king rises, and everyone with him, Carnistir and Tuilindien's parents lead them to the empty dais in the fore of the room. It feels both too soon and far, far overdue.

He stands between his parents, as is the custom, and his father takes his hand, as is the custom. Facing them Tuilindien stands, radiant in her near-white dress, between her parents who wear darker clothes.

From the high windows a mingled light of Laurelin's gold and Telperion's silver falls upon them.

Tuilindien's mother and Fëanáro step forward for the joining of the hands. Tuilindien's hand feels warm and familiar as it slips into Carnistir's.

He quickly lifts his eyes from Tuilindien to his father and Tuilindien's mother as they begin giving the ceremonial blessings. Sailiel smiles, motherly and comforting in this moment though Carnistir knows that she can be steely and sharp-tongued.

Fëanáro's expression is far from a smile, but his voice isn't too harsh as he gives the blessing of himself and his family to Carnistir and Tuilindien's union, welcoming her into his family. This is the main purpose of the entire feast, to join families. Hearing his father speak formally but not coldly makes Carnistir finally relax.

He unclenches the his fingers of his free hand from his cloak.

At the end of their blessings, Sailiel and Fëanáro name Varda and Manwë as their witnesses, though not by those names. The rarely-heard names of the two greatest Valar in their own tongue flow fluently from the tongues of both Tuilindien's mother and Carnistir's own father, as does the name of Eru Ilúvatar. The name of The One is rarely spoken, only in the most serious of vows.

There is a silence in the hall, not even a child's voice to be heard. The quiet continues as Tuilindien takes off the slender silver band that Carnistir gave her a year and a half ago in this same place, gathered before the same people. She offers it back to him, holding it on her palm along with a golden ring.

It is only a lifetime of practise that makes it possible for Carnistir to keep his fingers from trembling as he takes off the silver ring made by a Vanyarin smith that he has been wearing for Tuilindien, and takes from his pocket the golden one that he has made for her. It feels cold in his fingers but will always feel slightly warm to Tuilindien's touch.

He and his beloved reach out to each other at the same time and exchange the rings, speaking the oath of love and care and loyalty to each other, swearing it all in the name of The One.

Carnistir has never said the name Eru Ilúvatar out loud before, and the act of saying it – to name the All High, the holy beoynd holy – makes something in him shake, like a rush of wind passing through the trees in a valley, and then settle.

Oaths sworn by the name of The One cannot be broken.

Oh, how she loves him. The love and the joy of this moment rush in her ears so that Tuilindien can hardly hear herself and Carnistir speak the oath and the Name. She thinks that her voice shakes a little, and her hands certainly do as she exchanges rings with her Carnistir.

His hands are as steady and warm as always; his face, when she raises her eyes to look at him, is red, as is his neck from the collar up, and even the tips of his ears.

Oh, how she loves him. She loves the determination in his beautiful dark eyes, his fierce focus and perseverance which encouraged her and brought them to his day, his strong arms that make her feel safe and cherished. He is always so ready to hold her within them.

He twines them about her waist now, after they close the small distance between them, and she smiles at him through a veil of unshed tears.

'Tears of happiness', she whispers to him.

'I know', he says.

He does not smile, but she knows it is no bad thing, just as he knows that her tears aren't either. The connection between them has never been stronger. It will be strengthened further when they join their bodies in the act of love, but the ceremony has already brought them closer.

And Tuilindien feels – it feels like her body can hardly contain all of her love without breaking, and yet she feels more complete and whole than ever for loving him. She hopes that he feels all of it. She certainly feels his love like a flame close to her skin, but inside; not burning her, but warming both her spirit and flesh, fëa and hröa, marking the edges of her and making her aware of her own body.

As they kiss, their families cheer, the solemn part of the ceremony over. Only the giving of gifts from their parents, in Noldorin tradition, remains, as well as a Vanyarin blessing.

But as Tuilindien feels her beloved's lips on hers and his arms around her, moving from her waist to sinking gently in her hair, she cannot think of their families. She is lost in a gentle-fierce storm of feelings, all of them right and true.

The rain has stopped by the time they walk out of the palace, hand in hand. A large group of jubilant and in some cases inebriated family members follow behind them to send them off to their new home.

Awaiting them in the Great Square are Tyelkormo and Curufinwë, both grinning and holding onto Varnerocco's halter. Around Carnistir's bad-tempered bay mare's neck is an enormous wreath of white and yellow flowers and green leaves.

'Our wedding gift to you, brother dear, fair new sister.' Tyelkormo nods to Carnistir and makes a show of dramatically bowing to Tuilindien. 'Your void-beast steed suitably adorned for the occasion, and to match you two.'

Varnë is definitely scowling if that can be said of a horse, and so is Carnistir who apparently doesn't much appreciate this surprise or the reference to the crown of yavannamírë blossoms on his own head that Tuilindien's mother placed there as a part of a Vanyarin blessing.

Tuilindien, however, cannot help but smile at the sight of Carnistir's grinning brothers and disapproving horse. Touching her own flower-crown, she thanks Tyelkormo and Curufinwë. 'What a wonderful surprise. Varnë looks beautiful, though I dare say she disagrees.'

Varnë tosses her head, dragging Curufinwë up to his toes until Tyelkormo tugs her back down.

Carnistir hisses to his brothers, 'A wedding gift, you say – more like a drunken fancy.'

'You wrong us', Tyelkormo protests. Tuilindien notes that he is flushed, less pale than usual, as is Curufinwë.

'If you knew how many bites we have sustained as we've fought to stop her from trying to get rid of the flowers, you would be more grateful', Curufinwë argues.

'We are very grateful', Tuilindien hurries to assure her new law-brothers before Carnistir can argue back. Their families are already gathered around them.

Carnistir rolls his eyes at his brothers anyway, and only then lifts Tuilindien on to Varnë's back. Slightly nervous even though they have practised riding together, she pats Varnë's neck as Carnistir swings himself up behind her.

The square ringing with their families and friends' shouts of congratulations, they ride into the glittering streets of the Noldor's white city, Tuilindien's new home city.

They are quiet for most of the way, communicating through small touches and shared feelings.

Only when they are close to their new house does Carnistir blurt, with the confusion in his voice which Tuilindien had felt in his spirit much earlier but has been waiting for him to speak of, 'I cannot believe that your parents gave me a farm as a blessing-gift.'

'It is only a small one', she tells him. 'And on the mountainside, so it is not the most productive.'

'It is a farm', Carnistir emphasises. 'My parents only gave you a jewel.'

Tuilindien lets go of the pommel of Varnë's saddle to touch the bejewelled choker around her neck. In its centre is set a large jewel, blood-red and blazing-brilliant.

'They gave me a precious jewel according to the customs of the Noldor', she replies. 'Among my people no such gift is traditionally given, only a wreath of flowers for the couple getting married. Out of respect for your people's traditions, my mother decided to have the wreath made from blossoms of yavannamírë from the little farm they wanted to give to us, combining the two traditions.' Tuilindien turns her head a little, rubbing her cheek against his chest for a second or two. 'They wanted us to have a place of our own to stay among the Vanyar, you see.'

'Hmm.' Carnistir turns Varnë to the short street at whose end their new house is located. 'Do they think that it will make me more likely to visit often?'

'Yes.' She cannot keep laughter out of her voice. 'And they are right, are they not?'

'They are', Carnistir admits, with some reluctance and embarrassment.

To comfort him, Tuilindien says, 'I am glad of it too.'

And then they are arriving at their house, and she makes noises of wonder and amazement. The last time she was here there was the half-demolished ruin of the old house in the place where now stands the new house designed and built by Carnistir.

He has written of it to her, describing some of its features in his letters, but finally seeing the house in all its glory has her astonished and wordless. She stares, straight-backed on Varnë's back, no longer leaning on Carnistir.

He brings the horse to a stop and dismounts. He has to call her name twice before she looks down at him and lets him help her down as well.

Once she is on the ground, they look at the house together while Varnë makes a renewed effort at eating flowers from the wreath around her neck. Carnistir lets her.

'It is a wonder you behaved for the duration of the ride', he tells her grumpily before turning to Tuilindien.

'I do not know what to say', she says after a long moment of looking at the house. Carnistir stands tense beside her, clearly waiting for her to say something. 'You must know – you must feel what I feel – that it is beautiful. That word feels too little but I have no better one to use. It is beautiful, and big but not too big, like you promised, and it is white but not too white. There are many windows –'

She runs out of words. She gathers her light skirts in her hands and runs towards the house. She can hear Carnistir follow her, dragging a recalcitrant Varnë behind him.

'Stained glass', she breathes quietly as she looks at the windows. 'You gave me many windows of stained glass.'

'I promised you I would.'

'The night we betrothed ourselves to each other', she remembers. 'You have not mentioned it since. I thought perhaps you abandoned the idea.'

'I keep my promises', he tells her. 'I said that I would give you a house that feels like home, with Vanyarin features and a large garden. I did all that.'

She turns to him. 'Show me, please.'

They hand Varnë off to the one groom Carnistir had instructed to wait for them, and then Carnistir takes his bride into the house he made for her.

Hand in hand, they wander from room to room. The house is quiet: all of their servants apart from the one groom were sent to work at the wedding feast, and accommodation was arranged for them at the palace's servants' quarters so that Carnistir and Tuilindien would have the house all to themselves this first night.

There are candles left burning in every room, though, and in their warm light he shows her all the rooms, both finished and unfinished. There is something to marvel at in each.

The house is a mixture of Noldorin and Vanyarin architectural features, and a few Falmarin ones too, Carnistir admits. 'Findaráto managed to convince me to try a few such things, and I kept the ones that seemed to fit'.

'It all flows together beautifully', Tuilindien says, leaning her head on his shoulder. He puts one arm around her and gesticulates with the other, pointing out details.

I will make my new home here, she thinks. Here in this beautiful house he built for us, and here within the circle of his arms.

'Tuilë?' Carnistir peers at her face.

'I am sorry, my love. I was lost in my thoughts for a moment, a happy reverie inspired by all this beauty around me.'

Cinder appears from the shadows suddenly, a little black shadow herself. She circles around Carnistir a few times and then takes off again to chase something only she can see.

Carnistir and Tuilindien continue their tour, smiling. They put out the candles as they go, leaving the rooms behind them to wait in darkness.

In the end there is only one wing of the house left to see.

Carnistir's voice is a little scratchy when he tells her, 'Our bedroom is this way.'

Instead of replying Tuilindien takes off, with careful movements, her crown of yellow yavannamírë blossoms.

'Before we go in there, we must go to the garden.'

Carnistir is so confused he cannot even feel annoyed or impatient, though he has been waiting for the first night together in their shared bedchamber for years.

Before he can ask why, Tuilindien begins explaining. 'Blessing-crowns like these are customarily not discarded but given as tribute to the Valar. In the case of wedding crowns, to Yavanna and Vána who watch over all things that grow and bloom.'

Carnistir can feel himself turn red as well, though it is exceedingly silly in these circumstances. 'I assume it has something to do with children, then?'

Tuilindien nods. 'The flowers are given back to Yavanna and Vána so that they may help the couple bring forth children when they so desire.'

'There are no altars in the garden', he has to tell her, to his shame and vexation. 'I wanted to decide together with you where to put them.'

'That is alright.' Tuilindien thinks for barely a second. 'We shall go and find the tree that carries most leaves and blossoms this early in the spring, and lay our flowers down around it, and that shall be our altar.'

He would never have thought of that, but it seems perfectly fitting for the Valier of things that grow and bloom.

He leads her to the stairs closest to the garden, picks up a lantern with one of his father's blue-white light-stones inside, and out they go back into the silver night. Though crisp, it is warmer than the last: true spring is fast approaching.

They look for the tree with most leaves and blossoms. They find it, an old lairelossë in the orchard, near a pavilion that Carnistir had had built in a little clearing for Tuilindien to read in. For their children to play in, perhaps, one day.

'Is there something we should say?' he asks awkwardly as they stand in the shadow of long branches.

'If we wish to, I suppose. But it is enough to hope and pray in our hearts, I think.' Tuilindien kneels and sets her flower-crown, now a little crushed, at the base of the tree's wide trunk.

Carnistir follows her example, laying his crown beside hers.

After a moment of silence Tuilindien bows her head. 'Will you take the flowers out of my hair, my love? I would like to leave them here too.'

For once it is easy for Carnistir to say, because it is not an empty gesture of politeness but from his heart, 'It would be my pleasure.'

With careful fingers, he teases the little white flowers out of Tuilindien's curls.

Unlike the flower-crowns, these blooms are not the least bit crushed or withered. They are as whole, alive and fragrant as if they were still growing in the place from where they were plucked many hours ago. Carnistir's fingers tingle when he touches them. There must be an enchantment in the flowers, small but persistent, lending them vitality.

He sets them on the ground respectfully. Tuilindien tucks herself to his side and lays her head on his shoulder for a quiet moment.

Her hair smells faintly of the flowers.

Then she straightens and turns and kisses him on the lips, soft and sweet. She did not speak to the Valier, but she speaks to him now.

'You have been calling out to me for so long', Tuilindien say, touching his lips with a gentle finger. 'I am here now.'

Entranced, he cups the side of her face, caressing her cheek. For his answer, though, he must tell her, 'It was you who called out to me. I would have not pursued a Vanya otherwise.'

He does not mean it badly, only that she is the only one he would have chased after and worked hard for.

Tuilindien seems to understand. 'I love you, Carnistir', she says, softly but with conviction. 'And I am yours now. Will you have me?'

She puts her arms around his neck and rises on her toes, just a little, to make up for their difference in height, and kisses him hard and pulls him close to her.

Carnistir is a little taken aback that she does it here, at their improvised altar, but very soon – in a split second – decides that Yavanna and Vána are not ones to mind a display of love.

He laces his hands in Tuilindien's hair that is now free of adornments. There is just the soft, curly mass of it, turned into pale gold by the silver light. He kisses her with both ardour and tenderness, with all the passion in his body, and all the affection in his spirit.

Those feelings are more than he thought he could ever feel: stronger, surer than any anger he has ever felt. Yet they don't make him lose control like anger does. He wants to and he can go slow, as slow as is comfortable for Tuilindien and as allows him to savour every feeling, every touch on this first night.

When they break for air he leans his forehead on hers and tells her, 'Yes, yes, I will have you, my love, my vanimelda, I am yours.'

They kiss, touch, clutch and explore each other – Carnistir doesn't know for how long.

It is he who starts the undressing: he unclasps Tuilindien's silk cloak, because it gets in the way of caressing her, and that irritates him. He lets it fall to the ground next to the flowers they gifted to the Valier, and Tuilindien doesn't seem to mind.

'The shoulders of my dress can be unclasped too', she whispers between delightful little gasps as he kisses his way down her neck, tasting and nibbling.

Carnistir takes the hint and quickly figures out how to open the tiny clasps half-hidden in the fabric. The jewel-decorated wide straps slide down Tuilindien arms, and then the whole dress. It pools on the ground, a pale puddle at Tuilindien's feet.

She still has a chemise and petticoat on, but she presses her body close against him, as if hiding from his gaze.

'You can take my clothes off too', Carnistir says with a dry mouth. To comfort her by evening up the situation, and to keep things moving. He likes the direction they've been moving very much, and has accepted that they may not be going back inside the house to complete their union.

As Tuilindien reaches for the brooch fastening his cloak, Carnistir's heart beats fast, as if wanting to gallop to the next moment.

He kisses the top of her head as she bends it to open the brooch and draw the heavy cloak from his shoulders.

He undoes his own belt, because he thinks she might be too shy for that step.

Tuilindien's fingers dance down his side to the hem of his grey surcoat, caressing at his thigh. 'It looks like silver in this light', she says dreamily before pulling the surcoat up and off him.

If this were any other moment he would be tempted to point out that actually, most things look silvery in this light.

But even in this moment, Tuilindien's remark shakes him out of his haze of his desire and he realises now, with less clothes on, that it is actually rather cold and it would not be as perfect as it could be, should be to join with Tuilindien in cold, wet grass.

Yet the house feels so far away –

Ah. Carnistir's eyes happen on the nearby pavilion . It has large windows, but they are glazed. It should be a little warmer inside.

He remembers that the long benches in there are cushioned and there are large pillows, too, for Tuilindien to lean on while she reads. They could be used for something else too…

While he forms plans in his mind, Tuilindien runs her hands down his back under his tunic, caressing his skin and sending flares of heat up his spine, and then pulls it off with a careful movement.

As she is about to touch his bare chest, he takes hold of her wrist, gently, and then sweeps her in his arms. She doesn't resist in the least, relaxing in his hold, trusting.

While he carries her to the pavilion, Carnistir's heart aches at her trust in him.

He deposits her on the pavilion's steps and then dashes back to get his cloak. It is soft and warm. He wants Tuilindien to have something like that to lie on when he takes her.

Tuilindien kisses him on the threshold when he gets back, quick but intimate. He opens the door and leads her inside, looking around to see everything in order.

'I thought – the long cushions on the benches, and the smaller ones too, on the floor –' He is even farther from eloquent than usual. All coherent speech seems to have left him.

Tuilindien understands him, though, and together they put together a makeshift bed on the floor. Before Tuilindien lies down Carnistir spreads his cloak on top of the cushions for her to lie on, a velvet sheet for his bride.

She could not look lovelier than she does there on the burgundy fabric, dressed only in her underclothes, her hair spread out around her, soft brown skin flushed. For a moment he can do nothing but stare. Tuilindien blushes more when she notices, but she looks at him too, and doesn't try to cover herself anymore.

He shakes himself out of the daze again. Why stare when he can touch, kiss, taste, explore all of her?

Join his body with hers, become truly married.

He joins her on the cushions, settling over her on his hands and knees.

Looking into her eyes… after all the persuading he had to do during the early days of their relationship, all the apologies and mistakes, all the waiting and the fear that ate at him until this day that she might change her mind, he finds he has to ask.

'Are you certain that you want to bind yourself to me here and now?'

Tuilindien's eyes are a summer day's sea of blue and green, liquid-soft, bright, full of feeling. 'I could not be more sure', she answers, rising up on her elbows. 'I have made a promise to you already, and I find that… I was never more free than now when I am binding myself to you. I never wanted anything more. You do not need to be so careful, or hesitant. Don't you understand, my beloved, my desired, my fierce Noldo? I want all of your fire tonight.'

She opens her spirit more fully than ever before, and he knows that it is all true.

He lets go of his control, and does everything that he wants to do because she wants it too.

It would not have mattered if they had stayed outside under the tree, he realises later. It could not have mattered because they create their own fire that burns hotter and sweeter than they could have imagined.

'Yours, I, love, love', Tuilindien gasps when he holds her tight and makes her his, giving himself to her.

He cannot speak but it doesn't matter because she knows him and she knows what is in his heart and how his spirit and body adore her, his vanimelda, his fair, gentle beloved, his desired –

And he knows her, despite all their differences he knows her and as they lie in each other's arms, after, that connection continues to make him feel euphoric even as their bodies cool down.

He dries the tears on Tuilindien's cheek and pets her hair. She draws figures on his back with a finger and whispers indistinct sweetnesses in his ear with a broken voice.

They fall, gently, into a shared reverie, a hazy world of lovely half-dreams and half-memories for them to explore together.

Carnistir rouses.

Without turning his head, without opening his eyes, he knows that Tuilindien's spirit is still in Lórien's hold while her body is tucked close to him, his arm around her and her head on her shoulder. She breathes peacefully, and Carnistir finds he doesn't wish to wake her. He would have her find more rest if she can. He could not be in less of a hurry to go anywhere or do anything.

When he opens his eyes he can tell that it is fully morning, for out of the pavilion's skylight he can see golden light in the air. He can hear birds in the surrounding trees starting to sing their morning chorus.

The air is still cool as it is on spring mornings and Carnistir can smell night-dew from the outside, but he is not cold, not with his wife close to him, her long, long hair draped all over his chest.

He smiles, though there is no one to see it.

It is the first in an eternity of mornings together.

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who made it to this chapter that was posted over three years after I started posting this fic, my first true longfic. Whether you've been reading since then, or just read all of this in one go, I appreciate you and hope to hear your thoughts and feelings about this chapter in a comment. I'd love to hear which bits you liked best!

I know that Carnistir and Tuilindien will not actually have an uninterrupted eternity of happy mornings together, but I blocked that from my mind when writing this, because they don't know it yet.(I'm sorry for that one tiny bit of foreshadowing.)

This is it for this particular fic but I have ideas for many more about Carnistir and Tuilindien. I have one little fic that is almost complete about how much Carnistir adores Tuilë's hair and how hot and bothered it makes him feel. So look out for that in a few weeks' time perhaps? The other fics about their future are still largely unwritten.

#tolkien fanfiction #silmarillion fanfiction #caranthir #caranthir's wife #tuilindien #my fics #your spirit calling out to mine #elesianne's fics

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madrut16 · 5 years

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July Fanfic Challenge Day 3: Closure - Part 1

Author’s Note: Another new pairing! I finished playing this book back in October for Halloween and ILB (which I haven’t really played bc I want a good ending and I cannot afford the diamonds to get it) and I loved it! This is the first book where I haven’t really been drawn to any of the canon LIs so, of course, I had to come up with this! I can’t wait to write more with them and explore these characters post It Lives.

Pairing/Book: ILITW (Dan x MC)

Rating: PG-13

Summary: There’s one last thing Raina needs to do before she and some of the gang leave for the start of a new chapter of their lives in Seattle.

The doorbell rang as I scrambled to finish packing my suitcase, and I cursed out loud when I checked the time on my phone. I knew I should’ve gotten up an hour earlier but I was never a morning person and it took forever to go to sleep last night. Sighing, I stared at the two plastic bins left in my room before running downstairs to the front door.

“I’m coming!” I shouted as I reached the entryway.

I took a second to smooth down the stray hairs that had appeared in the reflection of the old grandfather clock attached to the wall. It was a silly thing to do since he wouldn’t care what I looked like this early in the morning. But, then again years old crushes made you do a lot of trivial things.

With a satisfied nod, I finally opened the door. “Hey! Come in.”

“Took you long enough,” Dan commented as I let him inside.

I gave him one of my signature eye rolls. “Sorry, I was packing.”

“Still?”

“I know, usually I’m much more organized but, I’ve been doing most of this by myself so it’s taken a while,” I explained as I led him back up the stairs. “I swear I’m almost done though, it’s mainly just my suitcase for the road trip I have left.”

Catching my gaze, his lips turned up into a smile. “Good, cause the others are gonna be here in about 15 minutes.”

“I could use some help then,” I replied as we reached my room where I quickly added, “And don’t worry, my underwear is already in there so you don’t have to touch any of that.”

This caused him to chuckle, although I thought I saw his cheeks turn a little red. Or maybe it was just all my imagination, hoping it was true. “Wasn’t even concerned about it. I’m happy to help if it means we actually get to leave on time for a pit stop for coffee and donuts.”

“At Diane’s?”

“Of course, is there really any other option?” He answered with a smirk.

After waking up from the coma and dealing with all of the repressed trauma from Mr. Red and Jane and Noah, it made me happy to see him finally starting to return to his normal self over the past several months.

Packing the pile of sweaters I folded late last night, I responded, “Not in Westchester there isn’t. We’ll have to find someplace like it in Seattle.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be that hard, it’s practically dripping in coffee shops,” he said, handing me the last stack of clothes on my bed. “What are we doing with those?” he asked, gesturing to the closet behind me.

“Already have that covered,” I disclosed, walking over and opening the door to reveal several hangers wrapped in trash bags.

Looking over my handiwork, an impressed expression appeared. “You...really planned this out.”

“Actually this time it was my mom’s idea. Once I get to the apartment, I can just hang them back up and take the bags off. Easy peasy.” I started collecting them from the closet and setting them in the one bin that was left unfilled.

There was a brief pause and I could tell he was deep in thought, almost as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if he should. He always got quiet when he did this but, so did I. That’s how I knew he had slipped into his own head. Well, that and the fact that we’ve been best friends off and on for over a decade now.

“Dan?”

“Hmm?” he snapped out of his reflective daze.

“Penny for your thoughts? You got quiet there for a minute.”

Meeting my gaze, he shrugged. “Nothing, I just...it must be hard, not having your parents with you to help move in.”

A small wave of sadness came over me. For almost four years now it’s been like this, them having to miss important milestones and events of my life. They barely made it back in time for my graduation over a year ago.

“My Nana’s...health problems definitely don’t have a convenient schedule,” I sighed. “Especially now that they’re getting worse. Who knows how long they’ll have to be over there this time. They are helping pay my portion of the rent so...I can’t really complain. They're doing the best they can and that’s what matters.”

“Yeah.”

I managed another smile, not wanting to think about it any longer. “Plus, your family will be over there this weekend before classes start, and they’re always there for me when mine can’t be,” I added.

“They do adore you,” Dan agreed with a laugh.

As we finished up the last of my packing, we continued our normal banter until it was complete. Right after that my phone chimed and I saw a new message from Andy in the group chat.

Andy: I’m here with Ava.

Ava: Can confirm.

Stacy: I’m on my way, be there shortly.

Smiling, I sent a thumbs up back.

“Well, we timed that perfectly,” I told Dan who was reading the messages on his phone.

This earned me a boyish grin, and I bit my lip as it stirred up a wave of butterflies. “What can I say? We make a great team. Almost perfect even.”

Was he flirting? God, I scrutinized everything between us these days.

“We really do, don’t we?” I raised an eyebrow teasingly as we headed back downstairs, bringing the bins and my suitcase with us. We set them with the others in the kitchen before letting our friends inside.

“Hey, Raina, Dan,” Andy said, the morning not hurting his energy one bit.

“Hey, guys!” I exclaimed giving him a hug.

I attempted to do the same with Ava but she dodged me and I settled for a hive five instead. “Nice try Raina but, it’s not happening.”

“Oh, I’ll get you to let me one of these days.”

She scoffed in response. “Hah, doubtful. It is fun to see you try though.”

I rolled my eyes as Stacy walked through the door.

“Sorry, I didn’t knock,” she panted out of breath. “But the door was open so I assumed it was fine.”

“Of course it is Stace,” I told her before taking in her haphazard appearance. “Running late?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t decide what to bring! It took me an hour to finally sort everything out. Plus, my mother was delaying me. I don’t think she wants to be by herself.” She frowned momentarily.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Dan chimed in, trying to reassure her. At this point, it was almost second nature. “She just needs some time to adjust.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, exhaling the pent up stress she carried. “Doesn’t make it easier. At least Conner is there so, she’ll have some peace of mind.” She rubbed her forehead before painting on a smile.

Andy cleared his throat to relieve the sudden tension in the room. Everyone knew why Mrs. Green was paranoid.

“Ready to leave?” he asked, the keys dangling from his hand.

“I think so,” Dan replied, his analytical gaze wandering around the first floor. “Right Raina?”

I’m about to reply when I remember something. There was one last goodbye I needed to say. However, it meant letting them in on the secret that I’ve been keeping from them. But, I wasn’t one to break a promise and I wasn’t going to do it now.

“Actually, there is one thing that I need to do,” I responded, a nervous knot forming in my stomach. “It should take ten minutes, fifteen at most.”

I was met with four confused stares.

“What do you mean?” Dan asked me.

My gaze drifted to the window where the woods could be seen outside. “I need to visit...Noah.”

The name lingered, slowly sinking into each of my friends’ minds.

“Wait...you’ve been...seeing him?!” Stacy exclaimed first.

I had told them about what had happened between us and what he’d become right after that night but not much else.

I reluctantly nodded. I was tired, exhausted of carrying this burden on my own.

“For several months now. I know, he’s not exactly my favorite person either, and I definitely think him taking Jane’s place was the right thing to do,” I started to explain. “But, I don’t know, I guess he still deserves some mercy, some compassion still. I don’t want to leave him alone out there. So, I sometimes visit him every week or two, just so he has company.”

They all looked at each other and I closed my eyes, bracing for a confrontation. Yet, that’s not what I received.”

“We’re not mad,” Andy said after a minute. “Well, at least I’m not. I will admit that I’m not really that pissed at the guy anymore. And I’m the one whose leg got busted.”

Stacy and Ava still looked hesitant and I couldn’t blame them. Dan was quiet and deep in thought again but other than that, I had no idea how he felt and that scared me to death.

“I’m not completely over him trying to kill us...but I will admit I am tired of holding a grudge,” Ava mumbled, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

After a beat, Stacy sighed reluctantly, a guilt-ridden expression on her face. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but...me too. That whole mess brought us back together when we never should’ve separated in the first place.”

That left one person. The person I needed to hear from the most. I willed myself to look at him.

“Dan? Say something,” I begged.

Please.

He shrugged a smile appearing. “You were actually worried Raina?” he commented, and I released the air I had been holding in.

“A little,” I admitted sheepishly. I should’ve known that he’d be the one I’d have to convince the least.

“I never really faulted the guy,” he said. “I mean yeah he betrayed us, but it was for a good reason. He wanted Jane back, his twin. And he mistakenly thought that was the only way he could do it. So, I’m definitely fine with you doing this. I just wish you would’ve felt like you could tell us. Me.”

I physically felt the weight lift off my shoulders. “Thank you, for not hating me. I just...we weren’t there for Jane when she was like this and look what happened. I don’t want the same thing to happen with Noah. I promised I’d say goodbye before we left.”

“Then let’s do it,” he replied.

I was taken a bit back as the others nodded in agreement. “You guys don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Just because this is what I need to find peace doesn’t mean it’s what you do.”

His response was immediate. “We’re a team, Raina. All of us. We got into this mess together so we should end it that way too. I think this could be good for all fo us. Well besides Lucas and Lily who aren’t here.”

“They can come with us when we’re here in December if they want to,” Andy said.

A touched smile appeared on my face. I was so grateful to have them so entrenched in my life again.

“Then let’s go into the woods.”

#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices july challenge #it lives in the woods #choices ilitw #dan x mc

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