(Ford x Reader) Hickory Pines

CH. 17 Talking Cliffs

(A/N: YEAAA!! TALKING!! LIVE LAUGH LOVE!)

After yesterday's events, I'm feeling incredibly inspired! Since I can't tell Stanford about finding the crash site just yet, I decide to channel my thoughts into my writing.

My fingers dance across the keys of the computer Stanford has let me use. I'm working on a romance novel set in a fantasy realm, inspired by "Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons." It follows two humans as they journey through a magical world and, perhaps, slowly fall in love. It's definitely a slow burn, and I giggle to myself, excited for the next parts of the chapter.

In this chapter, the stubborn paladin must confront their fear of losing the more gentle bard. It's not easy for the paladin to get attached to anyone, so this is quite the challenge. Still, they try to confide in someone else, torn between their oath to a deity and their feelings.

A smile creeps onto my lips as I think about it.

Maybe I should make the talking mountains an actual location...

Leaning back, I check the time and bite my lip when I see how late it is. That explains the back pain. I decide to make a late lunch; if Stanford isn't awake, he will be soon. I refuse to let him skip another meal. I walk confidently to the kitchen.

I glance around to make sure no one is watching and open a small drawer. Stanford has been writing me recipes for a while now—long before I made that omelet. I've made it a point to save each one, not just the egg recipes. I flip through the sleeves, searching for something suitable. Let's see...

Aha! This one should do. I take the recipe from the drawer, then tuck my binder away.

He will never know.

With a pleasant hum, I read over the recipe, letting the melody of my favorite movie soundtrack—"The Ring's Lord," directed by Jeter Packson—play in my mind. It's a fantastic trilogy! Although I personally think the books are better, but when are they not?

Once our perfect lunch is ready (no fire involved), I tiptoe toward Stanford's room.

I'm glad he heeded my request to rest.

Ever since we returned from the woods, something feels off with him. I can't quite put my finger on it. Logically, it could just be fatigue from our travels, but deep down, I worry it might be something worse. I shudder at the thought and glance over my shoulder, half-expecting someone to be there. But it's just me.

For now, anyway.

Easing my anxiety, I hear Stanford muttering behind the door, punctuated by occasional giggles. Rolling my eyes at his dorkiness, I tap my knuckles against the door. The giggling stops, followed by the sound of rustling fabric. Before I can say anything, the door swings open.

"Hello, Y/N!" Stanford greets me, pushing his glasses up. His smile is sheepish, and I can't help but raise an eyebrow at him. His hair is messy from sleep, and there's a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. Clearing his throat, he asks, "What do you need?"

With a soft sigh, I step aside, motioning for him to join me. Reluctantly, he follows, and the door clicks shut behind him. He eyes me expectantly. His gaze is intense, and I feel that familiar fear creeping back. I push it down.

"I made lunch," I say. "Just making sure you eat..." I gesture toward the hall, indicating the kitchen. Relief washes over his face as he follows my gesture. "Oh, I see," he says, grinning, but his expression quickly changes. "Before we eat, though, Y/N, I need to tell you something..."

I fidget with my thumbs, wondering what this could be. His intense gaze makes me swallow nervously. Instead of leading us to the kitchen, he guides me into the living room. The atmosphere is warm, albeit a bit cramped with stray machinery scattered around. We sit down, and I can see his mind racing, his eyes glazed over with thoughts I can't decipher.