Soon, Lex becomes no more than an afterthought. If there's a trial, Lena isn't called to testify. And Kara--- Kara is consumed by the change in Lena.
The heaviness that has sat on her shoulders since regaining her past life memories vanishes seemingly overnight. Kara lives in the smiles that continuously curl Lena's lips, the laughter that emanates from her belly and fills the air with mirth.
Elizabeth registers the difference too. She looks at Kara with a knowing gaze, before it turns to regard the daughter who seems to have come back to herself, and Kara realizes that she's looking at Lena Walsh, the woman who existed before J'onn returned her memories as Lena Luthor.
This is the woman Lena truly is.
Who she should have been, if she'd been surrounded by love and happiness instead of cold reproach.
Kara revels in it.
She scarcely goes back to National City anymore. Loathe to miss even a minute of this unburdened Lena, she finds every excuse to stay in the small town Lena calls home.
They do talk, and though the conversation is necessary, it lacks the heaviness Kara expects. Lena understands, and no longer cleaves to the heartbreak that had destroyed their friendship in the previous reality. It's as though dismissing Lex has softened the blows done unto her, from both him and Kara herself.
All Lena asks is for trust and honesty moving forward, and Kara is happy to grant it. Now, it feels as easy as breathing.
Still, Kara feels as though she stands on a glass surface waiting to crack. She hesitates in asking the question she so desperately wants, afraid beyond reason that the answer may not be the one her heart yearns for.
When the local newspaper editor announces his retirement, however, she knows she can't wait in limbo any longer.
At the spring festival, complete with a medieval maypole and carnival games galore, Kara draws Lena aside.
"Ernie is retiring," she says softly. She feels a little foolish in her minstrel costume, but Lena looks like a queen. Her eyes are as bright as the pearls around her neck, and her hands are warm in Kara's.
Lena rolls her eyes. "He's been saying that for years..."
"He really is," Kara insists. She swallows roughly. "In June. He-- He's asked me to take over the paper."
At that, Lena's gaze stills. She regards Kara with an inscrutable gaze. Keenly aware that the woman in front of her had enough magical power to rewrite reality, Kara can only guess at what she sees. After a long moment, the corners of Lena's eyes tighten as she tilts her head slightly.
"It sounds like you're asking me a question."
She's just not sure which one.
Kara takes a deep breath.
"Can I stay?" Her voice shakes. "Here. In Willow Creek."
Lena's grip on Kara's hands firms. Her gaze softens into an easy smile. "What exactly do you think you've been doing the past six months?"
"Lingering," Kara replies simply. "But I want to stay. Here. With you."
She wants to stay, with thought and deliberation, not just waiting for Lena to tire of her presence. She wants to stay precisely where Lena is. She wants Lena to want her, right where she is. Right here.
Lena doesn't disregard her uncertainty, her apprehension. She could easily laugh, casting Kara's doubts to the wind without a single thought, a quip on her lips. But she doesn't.
"I would like that," she says. Her voice solemn, but her smile lingers. With her hands still in Kara's, she leans in to press her lips to the corner of her mouth. "Your sister won't mind?"
Alex hasn't minded yet. As though she understands now how deeply Kara feels for Lena, how desperately she needs Lena in her life. How her life feels incomplete without her. For all the time Kara has spent in Willow Creek, Alex hasn't once begrudged her.
"If anything, it'll give her an excuse to come visit," Kara returns. "She understands that... I don't want to be anywhere else."
Lena beams. "Well, you know... my mom and I do happen to have a guest room open right now. If you're interested."
As if Kara's belongings aren't already inhabiting the room, her clothes draped over the chair and her shampoo in the bathroom.
Korra has a basketball game. Everything is about to change.
and here it is: the final installment, the completed Song Based Series.
i may revisit this series in the future, though right now i am more than satisfied with what i've created.
thank you if you’ve read any of these installments, i hope you've enjoyed reading.
Same Boat, Means Something, Feels Like This (Part 1) are the first three parts of this story, i suggest reading them first to understand the premise behind this series and the songs i based each part on.
read the final installment here on ao3
or right here on tumblr :) x
Korra rubbed her eyes, trying to make sure her mind wasn’t deceiving her. When the girl didn’t disappear, Korra truly couldn’t believe it. In the stands of Omashu University, Asami sat in one of the chairs, wearing her number six Fire Ferrets jersey, cheering for Korra.
She was tired, it was halfway through the third quarter and Korra had been, as usual, on fire. She’d already scored 20 points, completed 3 assists, and stole the ball twice. This was even before she saw Asami. Now after seeing her and watching the girl cheer for her, she had to show off, she had to impress her. She sat out the first few minutes of the quarter and walked over to her coach.
“Come on, Soh! Box her out! Take that rebound! Show her who’s boss!”
“Uh, hey, Coach?”
Coach Bumi turned and smiled. He slapped a hand on Korra’s shoulder and cheered, “Korra! What brings you over here? Yes, Soh! Now, pass that ball!”
Korra grinned. Bumi held his clipboard so tight, his hand started to turn white while the other was in an upturned fist. The whistle around his neck waved furiously as Bumi moved sporadically, as to keep up with where the ball was. He may have been a crazy coach, but he was a good one at that.
“Think you can put me back in? I’m feeling ready.”
Bumi turned to her, looking her up and down quickly before nodding. He called a timeout and took Leng out for Korra. She was getting placed back in as shooting guard, and while she preferred point guard, she knew she could still exhibit her abilities for Asami. Tasoka dribbled down court, analyzing the placement of teammates in front of her. Korra held up two fingers quickly before presenting an open palm. Tasoka nodded and passed the ball. Korra dribbled close to the floor, staying low. Kuvira was in position, Ranran opened up the center key. Korra bursted, weaving around the defender in front of her. She bounce-passed the ball to Kuvira, who was quickly met with Omashu’s defense, leaving a perfect hole for Korra. Kuvira faked a shot then passed it to Ranran, who set up an alley oop for Korra. The arena erupted in cheers as Korra landed on her feet after the dunk. She quickly found Asami again, who had cupped her hands around her mouth and was screaming.
Korra continued to display her skills, though didn’t hog the ball. She helped complete plays, keeping the ball moving around the court, but found the pockets of opportunity to shine. The game ended: Omashu 70, RCU 82. The stands began to empty out, the team stayed on the court to help clean and Kuvira found Korra. She looked at her with an all knowing grin and Korra slapped her shoulder. Korra had a smile on her face she couldn’t get rid of and now with the game over, she tried her hardest to understand how Asami could’ve come to the game.
Asami had even explicitly told Korra she wouldn’t be able to go, but she knew those emerald eyes anywhere. The team collected all their gear and walked out to the locker room. Bumi gave them a congratulatory speech and commended them on a job well done at both games. They earned the rest of their weekend and Monday practice off. The team exited and began to head towards the buses. Korra stood by the tall glass doors of Omashu’s arena and looked around for Asami. As a large crowd of Omashu fans dissipated, Korra spotted her girl doing the same as she was. She quickly ran over to her and dropped her duffle bag on the ground before scooping Asami up and swinging her around.
They laughed as Korra set her back down. Asami had even put on a little face paint of the school’s color under her eyes.
“Asami, I,” she began. Asami’s smile made Korra forget her train of thought and she shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “Asami, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, I just can’t believe you’re here!”
Asami shrugged, “I managed to finish my work earlier than expected. I took the Future Industries jet out Ba Sing Se yesterday--”
“Ba Sing Se?” Korra spurted, shaking her head again. “You watched the BSS game too?”
She nodded, “I couldn’t get better tickets on such short notice so I was kind of far back--”
“You came all this way to watch me play?”
Asami softened. Korra watched her eyes, the emerald green was still vibrant against the night. She could see them twinkle, she could see the love in her eyes.
“Well, I most certainly had to try,” Asami whispered. She sighed, “I felt bad for keeping it a secret but the look on your face when you were sitting on the bench was priceless!”
Korra looked up at the girl, dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that Asami came, not only to Omashu, but to Ba Sing Se as well. She couldn’t believe Asami took the time out of her weekend to travel and watch two basketball games. No one else in Korra’s life was like that. She could count on her friends, on Mako and Bolin, no doubt, on Kuvira and recently Opal. She knew they had her back but none of them had ever been as selfless as Asami. The boys had viable reasons not to come, Bolin was meeting Opal’s parents and Mako had work orientation at his new job, but this wasn’t the first time Asami had come through like this.
Korra had been sick one summer, and it of course had to happen while Tenzin and his family had left for a mini vacation. She was staying at the boy’s apartment but they kept their distance, wanting to keep Korra’s ill germs away from them. Mako let her take his room while he slept on the couch, at least so guests could still sit there. Asami visited every day and did her best to take care of Korra. The girl explained what the best remedy was for her sickness, how her mother always made a pot of steaming hot stewed sea prunes and served it with a side of homemade blubbered seal jerky. It was more so a comfort than a cure but Korra so desperately wanted the items.
The next day, Asami came in with containers of stewed sea prunes and a package of seal jerky. She explained how she tried to stop at Narook’s to see if stewed sea prunes were on the menu but the restaurant was closed for reconstruction. She found a corner store in the Little Water Tribe neighborhood and asked the merchants how to make the dish. She gathered the ingredients and wrote down the steps, she found a decent package of seal jerky at a pop-up kiosk, and returned to the Sato mansion to make the stew. Apparently, she had to return to the corner store once more, because she over boiled the sea prunes and they turned into an undesirable mush. The second attempt was much better and Asami had to buy another package of seal jerky because she ate the other one while cooking.
Korra tasted the stew; it wasn’t her mother’s, but the fact that Asami made time to go to the Little Water Tribe neighborhood, buy items at the store, cook, go back to the store, and cook again, that stew was near perfect. Asami spent the rest of that day with Korra, stealing pieces of seal jerky and playing Mako’s video games. She wasn’t afraid of her germs, happily laying down next to her on the fresh set of sheets Mako put down for her.
Korra looked at Asami standing in front of her: the girl in her homemade jersey, the girl who traveled so far to see her play, the girl who Korra suddenly realized she was in love with; wholly and utterly, completely in love with. She knew right then the world hadn’t been playing a tiring game with her, rather setting her up for a perfect slam dunk.
The two had locked eyes and Korra hated the distance between them. It was much too far, only inches, but too many for her taste. Her heart was ready for takeoff; this was better than any college basketball victory, better than a crazy college rave, this was her future. There was no one else Korra wanted in her corner, no one else to travel hundreds of miles to watch her play, no one else to be the person she came home to. It may have been too early to be thinking about it, but Korra knew, she knew now, there was no denying anything, no need to question. She couldn’t take it any longer and grabbed Asami’s collar to pull her down and pressed their lips together.
Just like the party, her lips were sweet like cherries and Korra felt like she was flying. Asami began to deepen the kiss and Korra wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist to pull her closer. Korra could hear Kuvira cheering in the background but let it go, she’d deal with her teammate later. All Korra could think about was Asami, about the girl who stole her heart and she didn’t even know she had.
They pulled away and Asami began to stutter, “What, I--, Korra, what?”
Korra laughed, falling into Asami’s hands on her cheeks, “I had to, Asami, you,” she gulped, “you came all the way to Ba Sing Se and Omashu to watch me play, how could I not?”
Korra saw a tear fall from Asami’s eyes. Suddenly the girl was crying and she wrapped her arms around Korra’s neck and buried her face. Korra wasn’t sure what was happening, had it been the wrong move to kiss her? After Wing and Wei’s party, she’d thought for sure that Asami had liked her, or at least it was on her mind, but perhaps she misunderstood and Asami really was just too drunk to realize what she’d been doing.
Asami picked her head up slightly and whispered, “Korra, I’ve wanted you for so long, I never thought this would happen. I--”
“Wait, so these are happy tears?” Korra interrupted, shouting at the world who was teetering back and forth.
Korra backed up to look at Asami’s eyes, but as soon as she took a step, Asami closed the space once more and wrapped her arms around Korra’s neck, hugging her tightly. The tears were still falling from her face when they let go but Asami was smiling; Korra did the same as she wiped them away. Korra knew, she knew it all had to have meant something.
They gently placed their lips together as Kuvira cheered once more in the background.
[part 3 of it’s a slow cinnamon summer. read part 1. read part 2]
(a/n: okay...here it is. the final installment of this little series. thanks for joining me on this crazy ride these past few days! i’m not sure when i’ll get another chance to write for fun, but hopefully i will be nipped by the plot bunnies again soon. Anne and Gil finally get a resolution to this tension. And Gilbert is shirtless again... Enjoy!! xoxo Content T+)
Almost a week passed before Anne saw him again.
It was not so much by choice, at least not to Anne, but rather they were needed for other responsibilities around their respective households. Matthew had caught a late summer cold, which led to Anne tending to his needs, while Marilla cared for little Delphine at the Blythe-Lacroix farm. When Anne wasn’t checking in on Matthew, she was out in the fields with Jerry and his brothers, who offered their aid upon catching word of Matthew’s sickness. The hard labor of weeding out the bad crops or nasty pests allowed Anne to direct her mind onto something other than the single topic it would revolve back to as she laid in her bed each night. Even the exhaustion from the day’s activities was not enough to weary her brain into a dreamless state of sleep which she desperately craved.
For her dreams were where she slipped back into that sweet moment in the garden, or worse, entered new fantasies so vivid and lifelike, Anne would suddenly awake with a gasp, sweat beading on her forehead and along fair skin. She dared not tell a single soul about any of those dreams.
His lingering presence had intertwined itself so deeply into her being that she knew it was fruitless to try an escape it’s captive grip. Otherwise, she would be denying an integral piece of herself, as terrifying as the thought was to her.
Marilla woke her before dawn on Saturday morning with the news that she would be baking and cooking most of the day for the church picnic tomorrow. She was quite beside herself because with watching over Delphine the whole week, she had completely forgotten the important event.
“No worries, Marilla. I will take care of precious Delly today,” Anne reassured her comfortingly, her heart twinging anxiously at the prospect of the boy she was going to inevitably see. She needed to clear the air between them and make things right.
Marilla let out a grateful sigh, “Oh bless you, Anne. For all that you have done the past days,” she replied, her arms drawing the girl into a hug. “Now off you go to get dressed. Bash mentioned that he and Gilbert were going to be up early to start pruning some of the apple trees in the orchard.”
Anne nodded, a suppressed smile on her lips as she turned on her heel to dress herself, which did not go unnoticed by Marilla.
“Make sure Gilbert does not to overwork himself,” she called from the kitchen below as Anne hurriedly traipsed up the stairs.
“Will do!”
+++++
Anne gave the door of the Blythe-Lacroix home a gentle knock and waited patiently for an answer, rather hoping it would be a sleepy-eyed, dark-haired boy. Instead she was received by a groggy-looking Bash, who held a cup of steaming hot coffee in one hand and a fussy baby in the other.
“Good morning, Anne,” he greeted, motioning for her to enter, and pushing the door shut behind them with his shoulder. “It’s nice of you to come.” His attention turned toward the squirming bundle in the crook of his arm. “Shhhhh--there, there Delly. Papa will be back for you soon. Your auntie Anne is here to spend some time with you now,” he cooed, rocking her softly and taking a sip of his coffee.
The redhead couldn’t contain the fond smile that broke over face at the endearing title Bash had dubbed after the countless days she had spent with them upon Mary’s passing and the consuming grief that latched on to Sebastian’s being. Although he was not quite the person she remembered before his beloved returned to her heavenly home in the sky, he was beginning to finally settle into a different type of normal.
Anne stretched out her arms to take the baby, and Bash handed her off. “It is always a treat to spend time with this princess of yours,” she remarked lovingly, looking at Delphine with a sense of delight.
She followed Bash into the kitchen, holding the infant on her hip, and observing him as he set his cup down carefully. “Blythe is out in the orchard already, crazy fool,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. Anne tried her best to keep her face of coolness upon the comment.
“I’ll tell you Anne, the boy has been working himself to the bone lately. Can’t help but think something’s troubling him, but he dodges giving me a proper answer anytime I ask him about it. You wouldn’t happen to know what’s gotten him quieter than a church mouse, would you?”
A fresh wave of guilt overcame her as she bit down on her lip. “Uhhh...no...no clue,” she stuttered quickly, cursing herself for the unconvincing reply. She turned to begin making a warm bottle for Delphine as she searched for something more believable to add. “Maybe he’s worried about Queen’s?” she offered, picking up a glass bottle with one hand and setting it on the table. “I know I am.” This was true. It was a matter of weeks before Marilla and Matthew would be dropping her off at the school in Charlottetown and the remembrance of this fact made her heart ache in melancholy.
Several beats of silence passed between them before she glanced over at him. “Hmm…’suppose you could have a point,” was all he said, his eyes wearing an expression of curiosity and his tone full of doubt. Anne had a feeling he could see straight through her deceit. “Well I best be going out to the orchard. We’ll be coming in later for some lunch. See you my Delly Welly!”
“Say ‘Bye Papa’,” she replied with a grin, holding up Delphine’s hand in a waving motion. Bash returned the wave with one of his own and then turned around to exit through the back door, Anne’s nerves rattling almost as loudly as the darn thing when he shut it closed.
She sighed a breath of relief, turning back to finish her job with the baby’s bottle. His words had not been of a comfort to her in the slightest. The fault for Gilbert’s reserved behavior was entirely her doing, and to think, it could have been avoided altogether if she was not such a dunce when romantic feelings were involved. For an individual who spent a majority of her lifetime envisioning love and devising hundreds of stories filled with romantic dialogue and gestures, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert’s naivety toward navigating it in real-life was mystifying.
The redhead spent the rest of the morning, reading stories, singing songs, and watching Delphine crawl around the house, constantly having to keep an eye on her since the little girl had a tendency to put everything she found in her mouth. By the time the afternoon rolled around, the baby seemed to have worn herself out, and Anne sighed in contentment when she fell fast asleep in her basket.
Anne leaned her head on the wooden bench next to the baby’s basket and closed her eyes, intending only to keep them shut for a brief moment. Working in the field the day before and waking up early that morning had taken a toll on her. Not to mention the restless fits of sleep she experienced every night since Josie’s party. She would only rest for a few minutes longer…
+++++
When she awoke, the first thing she noticed was Delphine was gone. Anne jolted upright, her eyes scanning the floor around her, assuming she must have crawled right out of her basket. How long had she slept for? Muttering curses at herself under her breath, she pulled herself off the ground, smoothing down her dress as she went, and startled in a surprise at the person who sat before her.
“Gilbert,” Anne breathed in greeting, her heart quickening its pace, then dropping down to her stomach when she fully took in his appearance. His muscular, tanned, and very sweaty, exposed chest was on display for her to gawk at from where she stood. He glanced up from where he was eating, and she averted her gaze down to her hands, which she was wringing together desperately in an attempt to regain her composure.
“Anne,” she heard him say in acknowledgement, the sound of his voice like a cold glass of water on a dry day to her parched ears.
She risked a glance back at him, his eyes still very much glued to her. “Delphine--I was looking for--” Anne started, suddenly recalling the missing infant.
Gilbert cut in before she could finish. “Bash took her out for a walk in the orchard. He told me he thought that you could use the break.”
“Oh well that was kind of him, but hardly necessary,” she stammered, her face surely an unattractive shade of dark red. Gilbert took another bite of his food, leaving her to continue standing awkwardly across from him.
Did he have no sense of decency? Of course it was boiling hot outside, but surely that did not mean he could not put his shirt back on when inside of the house. Especially with her being in the same room as him.
“Anne, you’ve been asleep for at least an hour. Bash and I needed the break. It’s hot enough to cause a heat stroke if you’re out there for too long today,” he informed her indifferently, going back to his food again and finally looking away from her.
The girl chewed restlessly on her lower lip, the words that had been building up since the night of Josie’s party threatening to burst out of her at any second. “Gilbert I wanted---” she tried helplessly, her thought catching in her throat. His dark brown eyes lifted from his plate, a guarded expression to them. She had enough.
“I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to leave you without saying a thing about what happened that night. You have every right to be mad and hurt at me. In fact, I almost wish you would yell at me right now because I truly deserve it. You are a good person who is worthy of someone far more sophisticated and beautiful and coherent than me. I am no more than an intoxicated fool who assumed she had some right to kiss you and touch you,” Anne’s voice trembling with unabashed honesty for once, laying herself bare for him to see. “I miss you. Your companionship and wisdom. Your kindness and patience. For I know I can be as stubborn as a mule and hot-headed with my temper and brash with my words--”
“Anne,” Gilbert broke in before she could finish her lament of her worst features, which slightly annoyed her since she wasn’t done listing all of the reasons why he should be cross with her. He rose from his seat and walked toward her, leaning back against the edge of the table so they were only feet apart. Waiting nervously for him to speak, she chanced a glance down at the freckle on his chest, directly beneath his collarbone.
“I was hurt,” he admitted quietly. “You drive me mad sometimes, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.” His tone raised slightly and the copper-headed girl braced herself for his assault. This is what she deserved and she would take every insult he threw with acceptance.
“But you Anne--you are the most sophisticated, beautiful, and coherent person that I know.” She could have sworn her heart stopped beating in her chest when she heard him utter those words instead. “You have been all of those things, and so much more, since the first day I met you,” he confessed reverently.
His fingers reached out to rest cautiously on her chin and she lifted her head to look at him once more. This time, daring herself to hope again. She could see the softness returning to his face as she lost herself in the affectionate glow of his eyes. Her flesh erupted in goosebumps as his knuckles trailed up and down her cheek in a gentle rhythm, just like they had after she kissed him.
“I--I think I’m desperately in love with you Gil,” Anne gushed so openly that she almost smacked her hand over her mouth in shock. Perhaps he would run for the hills now after hearing such a bold declaration.
To her dismay, a low chuckle bellowed from Gilbert’s chest, then he was laughing to the point of hysterics, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes and running down his cheeks. Anne didn’t know whether to feel offended or content that this is how he chose to respond to her admission of love. “Are you sure you’re not the one who is drunk this time?” she mirthfully questioned, swatting him lightly on the arm.
He regained his composure, pulling her into a close embrace as he grinned down at her, his cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling in happiness. “Anne-girl, there has been no one for me, but you. The moment you broke that slate across my head, I was a gone man. Never would I have dreamed that you would ever--”
Anne pressed her lips against his, silencing him, for she had heard everything that she already knew to be true deep down. Kissing him in his kitchen, the sun beating down heavily through the window, his hands steadying her, his heartbeat echoing her own, was everything she had ever wanted. She brought her fingers up into his unruly hair, this time feeling damp from sweat, but she could hardly care. His lips broke from hers and started trailing along her cheek then jaw then neck, leaving a searing mark on each inch of skin as he went.
“Gilbert,” she sighed, her brain a blur of euphoria. She could feel his smile in the crook of her neck as he pressed another kiss to a freckle he was quite intent on appreciating.
“Oi Blythe! Shirley!” The teenagers broke apart so rapidly Gilbert nearly toppled over the table. “What are you thinking, setting an example like this, in front of your poor niece,” Bash exclaimed loudly, bouncing the baby in his arms. “Don’t worry Delly, your papa will protect you from these two heathens,” he teased mercilessly, covering Delphine’s eyes.
Anne and Gilbert both released laughs of pent up awkwardness from the unexpected guest and gave each other timid looks.
“Next time, put a shirt on Blythe,” Bash declared, tossing him the one long forgotten from on the table. Gilbert accepted the item and pulled it over his head as Bash left the room, shaking his own head and smirking to himself.
+++++
Gilbert took the opportunity to walk her back to Green Gables after dinner, her hand fitting securely into the crook of his arm. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder. The pair chatted amiably about the events that had unfolded during the week. She recited a new poem she had learned for Matthew, and Gilbert gave her a sidelong look of wonder like he couldn’t quite believe that she was real.
When they got to the gate in front of Green Gables, Anne was mournful to depart from him, despite knowing that they would be reunited tomorrow at the church picnic.
“So---that tragical romance you mentioned back at Mary and Bash’s wedding...,” Gilbert started unexpectedly, his gaze intent on her from across the fence.
“No longer remains to be seen,” Anne finished, reaching to stroke his cheek comfortingly.
Gilbert let out a sigh of relief and ducked to steal another kiss from her before Marilla called out from the front door. “Anne! Is that you?”
They both laughed quietly at the older woman’s outburst. “I guess that’s my cue,” the girl lamented, taking his hand in hers, not quite accepting the events that conspired today were real.
“Goodnight my Anne-girl.” Gilbert gave her hand a squeeze, and let her go, backing up slowly, his eyes remaining on her as he went. Anne watched him blissfully until she heard Marilla call her name again.
She spun around merrily and skipped to the house, her heart soaring with the knowledge that she was loved very dearly by Gilbert Blythe.
tagging: @hecksinki, @blarkeshirbert, @autummn-leaves, @ewolfwitchwisegirl, @leadingmehome, @melanneniel, @youcalledusremember, @neliel-deathberry, @blackxones BECAUSE YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST <3 <3
Bloody Sunset: the final installment of the Zombie Apocalypse Romance series
“Together or not at all. That’s what you said.”
Bloody Sunset is officially out! Thank you all for loving this series and encouraging me to write it in the first place! These characters have a solid place in my heart, and while this is “the last” of the series, you can expect more from Caitlin and Booker in the future, I promise.
Get your copy on Amazon and please, please, please don’t forget to leave a review!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 4/4
Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Characters: Jorah Mormont, Daenerys Targaryen
Additional Tags: Older Man/Younger Woman, Light Angst, Fluff and Smut, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dany is queen, Jorah is alive and well, Romance, Who knows where my brain is taking this, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Drunk Jorah, Jorah has no filter, liquid courage, Off the whim marriage proposals, Libraries
Summary:
For months she has ruled from the safety of the Iron Throne and for years, she has tried to deny what he truly means to her…until tonight.
Summary: It’s been 15 years since your son was born and the loss of most of those you love. But now old faces are resurfacing, from prison and hiding. But an even bigger threat now lingers on the horizon, and unluckily for the Bolton family, makers of the finest firearms and weapons, sights have been set.
Chapter 1: Revolution
You sat there in the handsome leather chair, leg crossed over the other and elbows on the arm rests. With a sigh you rested your finger tips together and used your foot to rock slightly in the desk chair. “He didn’t take it as well as I thought he would.”
”That’s on you baby girl. I told you not to keep him in the dark.” Ramsay muffled through a cigarette, eyes busy on the gun he was cleaning.
”So why did you allow it if you knew? Hm?” You questioned, turning your eyes to your husband.
He shot you quick glance, smirk as prominent as ever. “I like to watch you struggle. Pay for your mistakes.”
Annoyed by his words you simply tutted and rolled your eyes, leaning back further into the seat. “He has a game tomorrow evening.”
”And I’ve cleared my schedule to be there.” Ramsay replied almost at once.
You closed your eyes and let a small smile tug your lips. Ramsay may not have been a good guy, or even a nice guy, but you could not fault him for what he did for his children. He may not have been a model father or role model at all, but he did the best he knew how. And what was different about it, was that it was mostly genuine. He truly cared for the two tiny humans he had helped you create. Of course, it was also for his own selfish, narcissistic reasons too, but you couldn't change who he was. Nor did you want to. Ramsay Bolton and all his strange little quirks.
"Do we have an actual visual on Euron yet?" You asked, opening your eyes and staring up at the ceiling.
"No. In due time, baby doll. With Cersei back at the Rock, he'll make his grand appearance soon enough. It's not like they're all that old. Like both sixty maybe? I don't even think Cersei is quite that old. Like fifty five? They still got enough juice in 'em to come in guns a blazing." Ramsay said, standing from his seat.
You frowned, hearing the click of metal on metal telling you that Ramsay was done cleaning his gun. "I'm tired of waiting. I've been waiting. For fifteen fucking years." You said rather bitterly, sitting up straight in the chair again. Your eyes turning to the office door as it opened. In walked Abbey and Moose. Old Moose as you now called him. 15 years he'd been a part of your life. Roughly six months older than your son. And now he was nearing the end of his time with the Boltons. A bad hip didn't let him get around as quickly as he used too, and the white on his face made him look as though he well earned the place in front of your living room fire place. But, if one thing still worked just the same it was his tail, which had been the cause of many falling downs of your children when they were learning to walk. You smiled at Moose as he came and rested his enormous head in your lap, looking up at you with those big, tired, chocolate eyes. His tail thumping against the wooden desk. You stroked the top of his head and then gave you daughter a smile.
"What's up, baby?" You asked when Abbey came over and hopped up on the edge of the desk.
"Olyvar is on his way down the drive, and me and daddy are gonna go to the gun range." She said, setting her phone down on the desk, and running her foot gently along Moose's back.
You nodded, "I see. Well, you and your daddy be careful. And I shall see you two at dinner?" You stood from the chair, placing a kiss to Ramsay's cheek and reaching the door before turning back to the pair, "Ab, where's Dame?"
Abbey shrugged, "Last I saw him he was playing games in the den."
You wandered the well beaten path from your husband's office to the den the kid's used to get away from the rest of the house. You poked your head in the door. "Hey, Dame. I'm meeting with Olyvar, and then I would like for us to have a talk. Just you and I. Okay?"
"Sure thing, Mom." Damon said dismissively, never looking away from the game he was playing. How much like his father he was in the tiniest of ways.
You gave a false grin and turned to head for the front door, but met Olyvar and a maid in the hall. You gave him a broad smile and quick hug. "So sorry, I totally forgot you were coming by, or I would have set up a snack bar." You said, leading Olyvar to the kitchen and taking a seat at the bar. You preferred to do your work here, just like old times you always thought.
"No, no. Don't worry. I won't be here long. Just brought the book by so we can make sure the numbers are right and look over inventory." Olyvar said, taking a seat beside you and setting down the large black book he had pulled from his leather bag.
"Ooooo, gotta hot date tonight or something?" You asked with a roguish smile at your friend.
"Actually, I do! Some rich Italian investor guy. He came by the bar last night, and we started talking and... Well, anyways...." Olyvar said, giving his own grin.
You giggled, "Oh Ollie. You are something else." You opened the book and pulled your phone from your pocket to open the calculator.
"So, I take it that you heard the news?" Olyvar asked, sliding a pen from his pocket and placing it on the open book.
You gave a heavy sigh and an ugly frown, "Oh I did. I can't believe it's been fifteen fucking years. What's more, I can't believe they gave her parole."
"Well, the perks of money, organized crime, and plea deals. I still can't get over that she turned in her two little henchmen. Especially the big one, what was his name?"
"Gregor." You said almost at once. Gregor Clegane and Bronn Blackwater. How Cersei tossed them under the bus immediately to shorten her sentence, along with the work of her lawyer Qyburn. You were furious when you sat in the back of that courtroom with Skinner and the judge read out the sentence and circumstances. 'Eligible for parole in fifteen years' he said, and you had felt your blood boil. Even Skinner, always calm, cool, and collected let a look of agitation cross his face, 'And you can damn sure bet they will give it to her' he had hissed to you as both slipped from the courtroom.
"Mm, right. Him." Olyvar said before changing track and pulling a magazine from his messenger bag. "But I do have something else. Very interesting, I might add." He set the magazine down and you glanced it over. A fashion magazine.
You looked from magazine to Olyvar. "What of it?" You asked. Olyvar just motioned for you to look into it. So you picked up the magazine and started flipping through pages. Nothing overly exciting until... "Alayne Stone." You read the name slowly, and shifted your eyes to the picture beside the heading 'Alayne Stone, founder of Stone Madien Ltd. to release an exclusive fall fashion line'. You studied the picture, a woman a couple years younger than you displayed sewing final touches on some model's dress. You studied her face, long dark hair... "such a familiar face." You said under your breath, trying to place it. It slowly started to click together and you gave a tiny gasp, turning to look at Olyvar who knew you were on the same page as him as he gave a small smile and nod. "Sansa Stark?" You whispered.
"The very same." Olyvar said quietly, turning his eyes to the magazine too. "Hiding in plain sight all this time."
"So what of the other one?" You asked, remembering that spirited little racer you once had.
Olyvar shrugged, "As far as I know, no one ever found out. The poor girl was probably kidnapped and smuggled into the underground. She was very young. Probably dead now."
You sighed, closing the magazine, "Probably." You agreed. Such a horrible life, and yet, it was the life of many. There really were no safe places anymore. Not even a church, as had been proven to you firsthand.
---
"Alright then. I'll get the orders put in, and I'll see you this weekend?" Olyvar said, replacing all the items back in his bag.
"Yep. I'll be there." You smiled brightly as the kitchen door opened and your son wandered in. He gave a small wave to Olyvar before opening the refrigerator door and disappearing behind it. You stood from the bar stool and walked Olyvar to the front door and gave him a tight hug before returning to the kitchen. Damon leaning against the counter and spearing a piece of fruit on the end of his fork. You watched him for a few moments before glancing at the back patio. "come on. It's nice outside." You said, crossing to the glass door and sliding it open.
Damon followed you and gained the seat next to the one you took. "Where's Moose?" He asked. Moose was usually hot on the heels when he heard a door open.
"Probably asleep upstairs. Text you father and tell him I'm lazy today and to pick up pizza on his way home." You said, gazing out past the yard, down to the stables and heaving a small sigh. Out of the corner of your eye you watched your son typing away on his phone. You tried to marshal your thoughts and find words to say, but it was hard. Maybe Ramsay was right. You were doing more damage than good by keeping your children in the dark. "I'm sorry." You said, pausing for a moment, "For never telling you about it all before. I just thought... you're so young. You didn't need to know."
Damon set his phone down and turned to you with the same wan smile his father used when he had run himself ragged and tried to assure you that he was fine. "I think mainly I'm just mad at myself, ya know? For never considering it before. I mean, it makes a lot of sense now. Why some people treat me different. I thought maybe it was just because we're rich. People like to use and abuse--" Such words of wisdom you thought "-- and always trying to get good with me. But, I understand now that it had more to do with than just money. But like dad says, nasty filth, dirty world."
"It doesn't make us any different than what we are though, Dame. Remember that. Nothing has changed. You just... know the whole story now. And it was foolish of me to ever think that you would be better off not knowing the truth. The amount of times your father and I argued over it."
"So then, why didn't he tell me?"
You gave a dry chuckle, "Because you're father is a fucking weirdo. Likes to play little games with people. Sit and watch him. Don't listen to his words. Watch his eyes. It's all there, plain as day."
"So, what did all that mean back in the study? With the Lannister woman?" Damon asked, staring off over the yard now too.
"It means we have to be careful. And we have to look out for one another. You, me, Abbey, your father."
"And the others?"
You nodded, "Yes. But there is a rule baby, and you must remember the rule. You, your family, and then anyone else."
"Why would I put myself first? I would always choose Abbey over me." Damon said, giving you a startled look.
"You, your family, and then everyone else." You repeated firmly. "That's how it goes."
You both sat in silence for many long minutes before you stood, patting your son on the leg as you had gotten up. "Now, how's everything else?"
"Good, I suppose?" Damon shrugged, following you back inside. Moose pushed past you both to finally get outside.
"Ready for the game tomorrow?" You asked, swiping a bottle of water from the counter as you passed.
"Feeling a lot of pressure, actually. I'm the only freshman on the varsity team. I feel like if we don't win, it's my fault." Damon confessed. Such a sweet boy he was. Though, he lacked confidence. You would make Ramsay fix that. He helped push you along to gain yours, even if it did lead to a string of very messy things along the way.
"You'll do just fine, baby. You boys will win tomorrow and then off to the playoffs." You beamed. Damon played baseball. While it required a lot of physical exertion, it was a better choice in your opinion than football. Damon had suffered a lot of illnesses in his early childhood, which the doctor chalked up to his premature birth. Nothing out of the ordinary in premature cases. Signs of asthma, heart murmurs, weaker immune system, and so on. But, Damon always came out on top and as he entered late childhood into adolescence he was just like every other young kid around him, mostly. Except the part where his parents were an organized crime power couple. Yeah, so maybe that was a little different, but, it is what it is.
"Will dad be there?" He asked.
"Mhm. He told me before he and your sister left that he would be there." You nodded. You saw the flash of excitement on his face as you confirmed that Ramsay would be there. How important it was to him. Not that it was Ramsay's fault he had been so busy lately. And Damon knew that. But even you had to admit that Ramsay was a bit, off lately. Even Ben, Matt, and Skinner were in agreement with that statement. Though, none of you knew what was up about it, or how to even mention it. "And how's Hope?"
Damon went pink in the cheeks and cleared his throat. He always got flushed and flustered when you mentioned his little girl friend. "Uh... good. I mean, they got all moved and stuff over the weekend, so, you know... good."
"You'll have to invite her over for dinner one day. Maybe go to the mall and take her shopping or something." You said, remembering the cute little blonde girl who had given your son a fleeting kiss on the cheek after school as she hurried off to the bus. "Mm, that reminds me." You said, crossing to the whiteboard on the wall leading into the den, "Buy housewarming gift for the Ashwoods." You muttered to yourself, writing the words on the board and replacing the cap of the pen with a smug smile. Hope's family had been the victims of arson. That side of the city had been targeted frequently by a group who set random buildings aflame. And it was a matter you were now looking into after Damon had come to you in distress that Hope's house was on fire. You refused to have this kind of disorder in your city.
You stepped back from the board and turned to your son, "Well then. Go throw your uniform in the wash and I will have it hung up and ready for you in the morning."
"Right, mom." Damon nodded, leaving you alone in the kitchen.
You dropped your shoulders, crossing the kitchen and pulling a wine glass from the rack. You poured a glass of wine and sat at the bar, staring at the wall across from you. A manicured fingernail tapping the glass as you lost yourself in thought.
Euron Greyjoy, out of hiding at last. For 15 years you had been waiting for those words. But in all that time in between the day he got away and up until you heard those words, never could you imagine a worse kind of pain and suffering for the man. How it ate away at you. At your mind and soul. How you could never be satisfied with your violent thoughts and ideas. He deserved more pain and torture than even you could imagine. Even more than to those you had hurt along the way. He deserved pain and suffering in even more ways than even your husband was capable of doing. The violent, red hot rage that filled you every time you thought about such things could never be relayed in words or actions. But when the moment came, you knew what you needed to do. Because you were a fucking Bolton. And Our Blades Are Sharp.
