#I am barely built for four days in a row!!

[super-magical-wizard]

Please please save me from work I Do Not Wanna so much

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I enter the break room and immediately see Ash and Lex sitting together in the far corner. Ash gives me the same tight smile that has become his new way of greeting me over the last couple weeks. A reminder that my presence still makes him a little sad. Perhaps if I was a better person, I’d make more of an effort to keep my distance, but I can’t. Since he came into my life, I haven’t been able to imagine a moment where he’s not a part of it.

Lex follows his gaze and looks over to where I stand in the doorway. She waves me over and I nod to her in acknowledgement before walking to the fridge to pull out my lunch. I’m grateful she doesn’t hate me, that she still wants us all to hang out. That first day she stopped me in the hallway to express her disappointment in me, and to describe the ways in which she would kill me and dismember my body (not necessarily in that order) if I ever hurt her best friend again. When she finished saying everything she had to say, she surprised me by wrapping her arms around my waist in a tight hug and telling me, “I love you, but Jesus Christ, get your shit together, will ya?” I hugged her back and told her I was sorry, and that I’d try.

I toss the glass dish containing my usual leftover stir fry into the microwave. Dawn is rarely home these days, and cooking has become monotonous now that it’s just for me, especially considering the nutrition plan Kiyoshi insists we follow while we train. Phoenix recommended a meal delivery service he used for a while. I wasn’t convinced it’s worth the cost, but after eating the same thing four days in a row this week, I might consider trying it.

Once I start the microwave, I turn around to see Ash and Lex sitting across the room in front me. Ash says something that makes him giggle and Lex shakes her head at him, unamused.

I miss his laugh.

I quickly pull out my phone to give me something else to focus on, deciding to busy myself by scrolling through my photos. Mostly scenic shots from Mt. Komorebi, including one of Dawn posing with a snowpal we built last weekend. As I continue scrolling back, Ash’s face suddenly pops up on my screen, making my heart jump. The pictures are from Geek Con. He’d insisted on holding onto my phone while I went to the bathroom, listing a dozen possible disasters that could befall it if I dropped it in the cramped space of the port-o-potty, each one more disgusting than the last until I gave in and handed it to him. It wasn’t until the next day that I saw the reason why. He’d taken a series of selfies with increasingly silly expressions for me to find later, guaranteed to make me laugh.

I smile to myself and look up to steal a glance at him. As usual, he feels my eyes on him and looks up right away.

There’s a part of me that still waits to see the corner of his mouth kick up in a smirk, for him to wink at me, amused at how it embarrasses me and makes me blush. But he doesn’t do this. Not anymore. Instead, he makes eye contact for only a moment and then looks away and continues his conversation with Lex.

I miss his smile.

I slump forward and put my phone away just as the microwave beeps, and then grab my meal to join them at their table. As I slide into the empty seat next to Ash, he turns to me with a quick, but friendly, “Hi,” and then turns back to Lex to continue his story, “So, I chase him halfway down the beach before I finally reach him, and he has a nasty dead fish in his mouth!”

Repulsed, Lex gasps, “Ew!”

“I’m telling you, that dog will eat anything, and what am I gonna do? Pull it from his mouth with my bare hands? No, thank you.”

“So, you let him have it?”

“Of course not, I used a stick to make him drop it, but he’d already eaten some of it. Took a whole five minutes before he started to throw—”

“No,” Lex drops her sandwich and points at him, “Too far, Ash. We’re trying to eat.”

“I’m sorry,” he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

I notice, out of the corner of my eye, the way he leans away from me just slightly, keeping his arms and legs tucked into his own space. I’d gotten so used to the way we’d always lean into each other, rest against each other. The way it would put me at ease. I realize now how much I took it for granted, and now it’s gone, leaving behind this empty space between us that feels like a physical thing, an invisible barrier keeping us apart.

I miss him.

The worst part is, I don’t know if it was worth it. Was it even necessary? Or was I overreacting? My nightmares have stopped, but I don’t know what that means. Does it mean that I did the right thing and he’s no longer in danger? Or was it just a stupid dream? Did my anxiety and lack of sleep make me paranoid? Was it a huge mistake, letting him go?

“Atlas? Hello?” Lex pokes at my hand, forcing me out of my thoughts and back into the room with them.

“Sorry, what?”

“Your food doesn’t do you much good if you just stare at it. I think you’re supposed to eat it.”

I give her small smile and stab at a piece of broccoli with my fork, “I guess I’m just not that hungry.”

“Okay, that’s it,” she throws her hands up in exasperation, “this is getting depressing. We all need to get out and have some fun.”

“What do you have in mind?” Ash asks, his tone full of skepticism.

“That new bar in the fashion district has an arcade and a bowling alley.”

“You want to go bowling?”

“Yes! Come on, let’s just go be silly and stupid and have a laugh. Please?”

It’s not a bad idea. I’m a terrible bowler, but it might be a way to get out and relax and joke around again, reclaim a little of what we’ve lost. Especially if there was someone else there to help lighten the mood. “Dawn told me about that place,” I chime in, “I bet she’d want to go.”

“That’s a great idea!” Lex enthuses, “I haven’t seen Dawn in forever. What do you say, Ash?”

He hesitates for what feels like an eternity before saying, “Alright. I’m in.”

I’m flooded with relief as I look over at him. He gives me a sideways glance and rolls his eyes, “Fuckin’ bowling,” and then looks back at Lex, “I will kick your ass though.”

“Pfff I’d like to see you try!”

I feel uncharacteristically optimistic as the two of them carry on, and I turn my attention back to my food, my appetite suddenly returning with a vengeance.

Prev // Next

[skulkiee]

HELLO :D

Part eight of the siren au guyssss i am excited about this chapter!!

Quiet now, you're gonna wake the beast, hide your soul out of his reach

Odysseus stares up at the Ithacan palace from under his hood.

Home. He is home.

He shares a warm smile with Eurylochus, and listens to Elpenor's laughter behind him, to Perimedes' excited voice. A little owl perches over the main doorway to the palace and catches his gaze.

"Ready?" Odysseus asks the others, turning to his crew and the small group of sirens that had shifted their bodies so they could walk, and then followed them up to the palace.

•

"Ready?" Odysseus asks. Polites smiles, glad to be home despite the bloodbath he knows is ahead of them.

Epolenep had walked into the palace two days before, to see the situation and speak to Penelope, so they all knew about the violence of the almost seventy something suitors. Such a shame that sirens are built to kill, then, isn't it?

He and Hyacinthus part from the group, walking around the back of the palace, while the others pull cloaks around their shoulders, covering their weapons and identities and slip into the hall, mingling with the suitors.

Polites knows the paths here well, and he leads Hyacinthus to a small door that opens just next to the staircase leading to the queen's chambers. He reaches his mind out as he walks, letting the siren in him take over. Latching onto the suitors and letting his body change around him until it is Penelope that walks through that door, until it is his sister's face that he is wearing. Hyacinthus does the same so that when Polites turns and looks at him a boy stands there, who he assumes is supposed to be Telemachus.

Gods, Telemachus couldn't be any older than fourteen or so, and he had to live with those disgusting men in his home. Polites lets the anger bubble up in him.

•

Epolenep smiles when she sees Polites walking towards her, Hyacinthus just behind him, their disguises flawless, the only differences their slightly pointed ears. Which she knows the Ithacan queen has anyways because of her oceanid mother.

She places the bow in Polites' hands, and he meets her grin. He's come a long way since they first found him and he could barely hold himself together, let alone keep a disguise and song up long enough to do anything even slightly effective.

Epolenep can see Alope and Cleito slipping through the crowd in the next room when she looks. It's safe to say, though she would never admit it, that the queen of the creatures of the western seas is proud of these four sirens that she took in as if they were her own. (She is proud of Patroclus too, and though sad and angry that he is dead, she knows full well that he would rather be with his dear Achilles.)

If any of them get hurt-

Well. Whoever hurt them would die a very slow and very painful death.

•

Penelope cracks her door open slightly, watching the three figures in the hallway nod to each other and step into the hall. The tallest of the three, the one that's pretending to be her, begins to sing, and she can tell very clearly that the siren is not her since she is not the target and since they are wearing her face.

It is incredibly unnerving, to hear herself speaking just a room away.

It is incredibly exciting, to know that soon these men will be gone from her home, that soon her family will be home.

Penelope will shut her door when the slaughter begins, but she knows she will still hear their screams. And she will revel in them.

•

Antinuos looks up when the suitors around him fall silent, their heads turning to the doorway. Where Penelope, Telemachus and Ctimene stand. He could have sworn that Telemachus was off doing 'princely' stuff, one of the serving girls literally told him that she saw him leaving.

"Suitors!" Penelope says, and the hall falls fully silent, "I have decided at last that i will take one of you as my own." She flicks her hand and two serving girls walk out of the crowd and start setting up a row of axes.

A challenge, then? Antinuos smirks, he's the strongest of the suitors, this will be easy.

"Whoever can string my husband's old bow, and shoot through twelve axes cleanly," the queen says. Antinuos only half notices the melodic tune in her voice that isn't usually there, "Will be the new king, sit down at the throne and rule with me as his queen."

Muttering breaks out in the hall, surely this is too easy, surely lots of them will be able to do this? Simply string a bow and shoot it in a straight line? The person who goes first would be the one to win, surely?

Antinuos stands up, "Brothers! Let the nice lady speak." He laughs. They all know he's not saying it to be nice to the queen, merely to hope to win her hand. (To hear more about this 'challenge' of her's, so he could more easily win.)

Penelope smiles at him, and her eyes are sharp and dangerous, but the suitor doesn't notice that, too busy thinking himself better than everyone else.

•

Hyacinthus is terrified. He didn't realise there would be this many men, and they all look at him like they want him to meet a painful end.

Or rather, they want the young boy who he is pretending to be to meet a painful end. Hyacinthus instantly feels bad for the poor prince at that thought. How must it be growing up with these brutes around you?

The way they look at Polites, or the queen, as he speaks is even more scary. Maybe that's because of the horror stories Epolenep has told him, the tales Cleito has shared of how she had killed men who thought themselves deserving of her, Alope's nightmares.

So Hyacinthus feels scared. Scared of how the suitors look at him and his friend, and then remembers that they're not looking at Hyacinthus and Polites like that, but instead the prince and the queen. And then determinedness settles in his gut. Determinedness to help the innocent people who live in this palace.

He watches as Polites walks towards the man that seems to be the leader, the one that told the others to shut up, carrying the bow in his hands, "Let the arrow fly, once you know that your aim is true." Polites grins and places the bow in the man's hands.

•

Eurylochus watches from the shadows, the suitors' weapons safely hidden away in the armoury, as Polites grins at the seeming leader of the suitors, before swiftly turning away and throwing his arms wide, "Cause I'd rather die than grow old without the best of you!" He meets Eurylochus' eyes on that last sentence.

Eurylochus smiles. Polites is pulling off the act of pretending to be Penelope perfectly, using that old flair for the dramatic that both the siblings possess.

"Though i never thought," Polites continues, his voice quieter now, as the suitors start to chatter amongst themselves, walking swiftly down the row of axes that Alope and Cleito set up. Walking swiftly towards the throne, "That these would be the lengths we go for love,"

"What's he doing?" Eurylochus hisses to Odysseus as Polites sits down on the throne, and they both realise that at that angle, if one of the suitors did manage to string Odysseus' bow and shoot through the axes, then the arrow would almost definitely kill him.

"Playing the part." Odysseus whispers back, "My Penelope would definitely do that."

"But he is not Penelope." Eurylochus snaps.

Odysseus just shushes him.

"I would not have it any other way." Polites smiles down at the suitors. There is something dangerous in his voice.

•

Athena watches everything play out from the rafters, hidden away in her owl form, waiting for the actual Telemachus to return so she could warn him of the situation. Before he walks in and sees himself standing there.

These sirens are pretty smart, she'll give them that. Sure, that is clearly Penelope's little brother, not the queen herself, but the suitors are too dumb to realise that.

They're too dumb to realise five sirens, three survivors of a decade long war, and the king of Ithaca stand amongst them.

The vulture next to her leans forward slightly, "You promised me blood, Athena." His voice echoes in her mind, "The queen doesn't look like she's about to kill anyone."

Evidently, Ares is also too dumb to realise that that's a siren too.

"I didn't promise you anything, brother." Athena thinks back, "I just mentioned in passing that Odysseus might murder all the men in his home."

"Yeah yeah." Ares sighs.

"Well i think it's sweet." Aphrodite decides to join the conversation, her white dove's feathers stark against the shadows around her, "Sweet that the queen would sit there, so even if a suitor did win her challenge and get to marry her, she would be dead! Sweet that the king would cause so much death for her!"

"That is a siren, Aphrodite." Apollo sits on Athena's other side, "A siren i very much hate. He needs to stop changing destiny already. Odysseus is back seven years early."

"Oh shut up already, 'Pollo!" Hermes' laughter sounding in all their heads, "I wanna watch my great grandson kill some bad people now!"

Athena sighs.

Hermes starts speaking again after a moment, "And then i can laugh at their ghosts. It'll be funny watching their faces when they realise they won't be able to cross the Styx."

The Gods are interrupted from their discussion by a loud shout breaking through the voices of the suitors.

"Screw this competition!"

From the separate reactions of Odysseus and his new friends, Athena reckons that this was very much not a part of their plan.

Heheheh :D Sirens are fun to mess around with.

Also yes, Ody is back seven years early because he didn't end up on Calypso's this time because the universe hates him less.

@acpola01 @ghosthazard @corvisclouds

[sweaterkittensahoy]

WE HAVE A FLOOR

OH THANK FUCK

So, for those of you who don't know or don't recall or just love seeing this fucking story again and again because this shit has HAUNTED me for NEARLY TWO YEARS, let's turn back the clock:

2022:

By the end of June 2022, the following things had happened to me in the year 2022:

Six sinus infections, one right after the other. Tested for Covid each and every time. Not Covid. When to the doctor on day 12, got the antibiotics, shit cleared up. And basically the moment the antibiotics cleared my system, new sinus infection.

Had so many in a row, in fact, that my my ashtma wouldn't calm down, and we had to get me on steroids for ten days to basically reset my lungs.

Went to a family wedding, first big trip since lockdown.

Came home from the family wedding and had Covid. I regularly get body pain with my fevers, and this was the worst body pain of my life. I barely remember going to the doctor for the test so I could take time off. It was bad.

Was very close to a major realization that a friendship I thought was going to last my whole life had become utterly toxic and abusive.

And then the end of June hit. And I woke up one morning to Sean cursing, which was alarming. Because I curse like a sailor, but he does not. I get up to see what the problem is.

The problem is a quarter-inch of water through most of our apartment. It was coming through our light fixtures. We are in a renovated basement of a house from the 1920s. I ran outside then up the stairs to see what was going on up there.

The house is two stories. Overnight, the toilet supply line on the second story had begun to leak. This kind of leak is a silent affair. We don't know when it started. But when we woke up, the entire living/kitchen area was flooded. The laundry room/bathroom was flooded. The water had soaked into the bedroom carpet so far that it was sopping wet from the door to about two feet in.

The office had, miraculously, not taken a drop. Still not sure how that worked.

We call the management company. We call insurance. I swear my ass off because Sean has to go to work, which means I'm stuck alone all day with the mess and a dog who does NOT understand why her paws keep getting wet.

Demo guys show up. They are very, very nice. By the time they're done on day one, there are two dehumidifiers and several large fans going in my house.

We don't have A/C by the way. And it's late June, and even in PDX, that's not great.

Three days later, the demo guys show back up to take out everything that can't be fixed. Our place looked like this:

Once they took all the wet out, we had this hole in our ceiling:

And were walking around on this floor:

That's the original cement floor that was put in when the house was built, by the way.

And then, we spent the ENTIRE SUMMER waiting for someone to FIX OUR FUCKING HOUSE. From the end of June until FUCKING SEPTEMBER we were living with an open ceiling and no actual floor.

I'd email the management company. I'd call. They'd say "Oh, we're working on it. The owner is dragging his feet."

Put a pin in that claim. We'll come back to it.

At the end of July, I ended that friendship I mentioned. I am using it as a measurement here so you understand that a month into my house being like this, I was also going through a massive emotionally fucked up situation.

Work was so fucking busy I nearly burned out. On top of trying to get some answers about when I was gonna get a fucking ceiling and floor again.

By August, I snapped and sent a terselye worded email about how it should not take this long to make some fucking decisions. I got back, "Oh, we're trying, but the owner isn't communicating with us."

Put a pin in that claim, too.

Finally. FINALLY. After FOUR contractors came and looked and gave estimates, we got told "Okay, we're gonna fix your place. In September. It'll take three weeks."

So, for three weeks, we moved into a hotel, and it was...it was fine. But it's not home, okay. I just wanted to be in my fucking house with a fucking ceiling and floor.

Finally, three weeks later, we moved back in, and we had a ceiling! And a floor!

And then I got what I thought was food poisoning. 48 hours of some of the worst pain I've ever had, and my endometriosis is severe enough I had a full hysterectomy at 31 or 32 (I honestly don't recall). Okay. I know from pain. Went to the doctor. Got an anti-nausea injection from the biggest needle I have ever seen in my LIFE. The doctor pushed on my gall bladder and asked if it hurt. I'd been continuously sick for 48 hours. Everything hurt. I said, in all honesty, I couldn't tell.

Went home. Rehydrated. Things seemed fine. They guessed it was my gall bladder anyway, and since I had no history of issues, said "Let's try to change your diet before we go through surgery."

Fine. Whatever. Didn't care.

A week later, in the first week of October, I ended up in the ER because I was sick again. So sick, in fact, I could not keep down apple juice. It took TWO DAYS to get a surgical spot. I went through caffeine withdrawal. The Try Guys released their video about firing Ned. All I wanted to do was go home to my finally fixed house and fucking sleep.

Surgery went fine. Had a full-room hallucination that Sean and I were Chucky and Tiffany from the Chucky movies. Kept telling Sean to kill the nurse so we'd get a larger cut of the money. This has never happened before, but I've also never been on Dilaudid for several days in a row to control my pain. Apparently, when that happens, I think I'm a serial killing doll.

Go home. Rest up. Things seem fine.

In November, I walk into the kitchen one day, look down, and see a space between two of the floorboards that should not be there.

I refuse to deal with it and throw a rug over it.

Over the next several months, more boards start bubbling and warping.

The floor, it appears, has some fucking issues.

I ignore it for almost a year. Yes, I know what you're thinking, "Gayle, why?"

Because 2022 was a fucking disaster, and a major part of it was the flood, and sometimes you just gotta avoid that shit, okay?

But, finally, it's bad enough I know I gotta say something. I send the management company a note. They send a guy. He's great. Says I'll hear back in a week.

I don't.

And then I don't.

And then I don't.

And then the owner asks to inspect the property to see how things are looking.

He sees the floor and is shocked. This is not good. Why is it like this? How long has it been like this? When did I put in a maintenance request? And what was the last thing I heard?

This is November.

In December, we are informed via letter from the owner that he would like to be cc'ed on every request we send to the management company because he is not pleased with their performance.

Well, okay.

In January, we get a hard freeze. And then we got a pinhole leak in a pipe. That I discovered when walking into the kitchen and stepping into--you guessed it--a quarter-inch of water on the floor.

It was comin up from under the boards, but the hole was actually in our wall. We had glare ice. No one in PDX knows how to handle glare ice. The owner made the trip from the deep suburbs to us every day he could (he got stuck once) to get the problem fixed as quickly and neatly as possible.

I heard him on the phone with the management company several times explaining what he was doing, how long he thought it would take, and thanking them for communicating with us.

Which.

It took 4 days. I got one email. At 6:30 PM. On a day I heard him call them at 10 AM.

So. Suddenly "the owner isn't responding" and "the owner won't communicate" seem like complete fucking bullshit. Because he sure as hell responded when he found out there was a leak (we cc'ed him on the email as requested), and I fucking HEARD HIM communicate.

And then we found out that the owner had not had final say on the floor, which now had to be replaced not just for bubbling but for being fucking wrecked from NEW water damage.

But for this new floor, we just went through him, and would you look at that. Clear communication. Regular updates. We were on the concrete again for about three weeks because that's just how far out contractors are booking right now. But the work was done when he said it would be, and by god, it's clearly a much higher quality of flooring.

So. It's done. It's fucking done. It looks beautiful. The owner scrubbed our bathroom before he left for some fucking reason and was worried he'd lost the knob off our washing machine (we bought it used; it's never had that knob). When I met him the first time after the big leak, I thought he was a complete asshole, and it turns out he's actually all right. He gave us money for dinner this week and is also gonna get us a few days of rent comped for having to have people in and out. I'm never renting through this management company again, but if that dude's got other properties through someone else, I'd go there in a second.

April 5, 2024. May it be the last reference I ever have to make to a fucking floor repair in this house.

[happybunnykat]

I am not built to work 6 days in a row. I can barely do four. :(

[yourspineislookingsharp]

A tour of my former school and life

A long time ago when I was a different person, when I was a person at all I went to a deeply catholic school, tucked away in the arm of a dying river.

Along the winding central road where I once nearly gt run over by a car lacking in common sense or turn signals, where I almost wanted to be. Past the de-mountable where I took drama lessons, passing the time escaped from class listening to the cooling iron of the roof and thinking about how they told me I would burn. By that time I had built up a fear of socializing, I think now, that back then it protected more than it harmed, now it just pushes me away from those I could one day love.

On we walk to our destination our legs pumping under our overestimated weight, sweat beginning to form on our brows in the summer heat, summer is a dry death, burning like the hell they told us we were destined for, the halos of the saints who watch over us, guiding in one single path, no room for divergence, no room for happiness. But in the winter as pleasant as the escape from the warmth is, the cold strikes something undiagnosed in my bones, there is always pain but now they are stiffer they do not bend like they used to, even at this tender age I missed my youth, gone and disintegrated, forever out of reach, winter too brings time, the ability to be alone with my own thoughts and that, then at least was tantamount to torture. I joined the cricket team, hated sport but it got me away from my mind for four hours on Sundays that was something, anything.

Here we arrive at the shrine, hedge rows on either side, path extending down one way to the music rooms and tuck shop, yet more escape branching off even further down to the twin halves of the library that truly saved me from myself. Scuffed leather dress shoes scraping on concrete as we get closer, there is a darkness here, I am the only one that hangs around. It is a grotto, to a boy that once spend his aching time here, now dead he has become their martyr, it makes me sick bile rising to the back of my throat, the way they can turn their own murder into a victory, but another feeling begins to rise, that dead boy at least he gets peace, at least he had the courage, he can't care about the heresies they have committed against him for he is gone, the sickness returns, how can I envy a dead boy, how can I want so badly to lay cocooned in the earth beside him, I don't yet know back then how men can love each other, How I can love them, how I might not even be a man, barely even human.

End Of Part One

[theworldthroughart]

Those Who’ve Taught Me: Four Teachers Who Made A Difference

I am who I am because of the people who’ve guided me. From elementary through high school, and even now into college, my instructors have taught me almost everything. Not just topics like science and history, but rather life values that are necessary to growing up as a successful, driven, and morally well-rounded individual. While these teachers may not know it, they’ve shown me the ins and outs of becoming a caring friend, loving partner, grateful daughter, supportive sister, and everything in between and beyond. Math was never just math, science was never simple science, and English was certainly never only reading and writing. These classes, taught by teachers who truly love their craft, built me the values by which I live my life, one stepping stone at a time. 

A Man Who Has Been Missed

It’s only right to begin by memorializing the mentor I had from kindergarten to part way through second grade, who was the first person who ever identified my love of art and made it his mission to fuel that fire for me from a young age. Unfortunately, Mr. Sprankle, a wonderful, caring man through and through, who would always make his computer class laugh and smile as he hobbled around the room with his cane, passed away from kidney surgery complications far too soon. He would come over to me while we were supposed to be working on our typing or coding games and talk to me about all the drawing and coloring I did. As the kindest person he was, he would ask about my older sisters that he taught as well. Mr. Sprankle once brought in a student who was a couple of years older than me and loved art to talk to me. After only seeing the art I would sketch on the sides of my handouts and the art that my elementary art teacher would hang on the red-paneled hallway walls, he saw my interest and was insistent on fostering my artistic love from a young age. He showed me what it meant to care. Thank you, Mr. Sprankle. Rest in peace.

Supportive Without a Single Question

She may have been a hardass in the classroom, always scolding and running her fourth grade classroom like an army base camp, but Mrs. Longley always fought tooth and nail to prove to her students that we had her support. A group of us were struggling with multiplying by nines one day, so Mrs. Longley pulled us together for lunch in her classroom and showed us the trick of multiplying by nines using your fingers. She went even further to show how you know a number is a multiple of nine if the tens and ones places added together make nine. By the end of our lunch, I remember how she whispered with her pointer finger over her lips to never tell anyone what she just shared with us because the administration would be upset to learn that she was teaching “shortcuts” in math to the students who simply didn’t understand how to multiply by nines the long way. Without Mrs. Longley I wouldn’t have learned that some rules are meant to be broken if it means helping someone succeed. She also taught me that without support, we almost have nothing.

Learning is a Lifelong Process

Mr. Lindauer was my version of Einstein. Not only did his white, frizzy hair play the part, but so did his pure enthusiasm for science. I, a seventh grader with attitude, sat down in the front row one day when I saw the presentation he had prepared on the whiteboard. “Water,” the blue slide said in massive font size. “Mr Lindauer, why are we learning about water? It’s JUST water,” I asked him with so much sass and genuine confusion. I mean, it was simply water, a basic element that makes up 70% of our bodies and we drink it every day. What’s so special about it? He looked at me and told me with a playful anger in his voice, “You think it's JUST water? Right now, you barely even know the basics about water. By the end of this class, you’ll know EXACTLY why we are learning about water.” So I sat there, listening intently for the sole purpose of trying to prove him wrong. I wanted to prove that this lesson was meaningless because water is water and there isn’t anything special about it. Boy was I wrong, though. There was a lot I didn’t know, and a lot that was interesting to learn. Throughout the lesson, Mr. Lindauer kept calling me out with that witty playfulness he had, saying things like, “See, did you know that one?” or “Do you think it’s JUST water anymore?” Admittedly, he was right, water is more complex than I assumed. But the most important part is that by humoring an “argument” with me, he got me engaged in a lesson I otherwise wouldn’t have been paying attention to. More so, my classmates were equally engaged as Mr. Lindauer and I spat back and forth at each other with utter sassiness for the entire class. From just that one lesson alone, he taught me that as humans, we are always going to be at the beginning of a learning journey. Whether we think we are experts in a topic or not, there is always more to learn. He taught me that learning never stops.

Criticism Fosters Growth

Mrs. Clayton was an exceptional teacher of mine. As my Advanced Placement art teacher and someone I spent the majority of my second half of high school with, she showed me exactly what growth meant. Week after week, our class did informal presentations of the art we were working on that week. These presentations forced me to be vulnerable and open while receiving criticism on works that I was already scared to share with others. These critiques felt like a personal attack at first until Mrs. Clayton opened my eyes. She told me that no one art piece is ever finished even if you think it is. There is always room for growth. One day I was sitting in the hallway of the art wing where I had been constructing this large 3-Dimensional sculpture. Mrs. Clayton came out into the hall to check in on me and in the span of that hour class period, she made me rearrange the layout of that one sculpture probably four times. The annoyance that filled the cores of my bones was practically boiling, especially when I liked one of the configurations and had to scrap it for a version that didn’t work out. At the end of that day, though, when I returned to her room for my free period she pulled me aside, taking time out of one of her other classes, to show me portfolio after portfolio of art that was never finished. All of these portfolios had one or two art pieces and the artist had created seven or eight different iterations from just the one piece. Mrs. Clayton advised me, “You can think something is the best it’ll ever be, but until you try every other possibility out there, you’ll never truly know.” And she was right. I started approaching these presentations and all of my artistic creations with an open mind. I would go into it thinking that nothing I make is perfect because nothing that comes from the soul can ever be perfect. No one is perfect. I also understood that I never had to take anyone’s criticisms into account. If I didn’t like their idea, that’s ok because it was just a suggestion, but the least I could do was give the suggestion a shot. Mrs. Clayton showed me how to feel comfortable being vulnerable and how to accept criticism without being defensive.

Their Impact

All of the teachers I’ve had have taught me more than what’s reviewed here. They’ve taught me self-awareness, honesty, compassion, care, vulnerability, supportiveness, and much more. Without my teachers, I would not have become the person that I’m proud to look back at in the mirror. They have built my mind, values, and dreams from the ground up. Through perseverance, support, and passion, these people chose to help young minds the way they’ve helped me. Teaching is an art. Teachers are a godsend. And finally, teaching is the most important concept that the world is built on. Without teachers, the world would amount to nothing.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Today the lieutenant of the guards assigned me to a regular job: assistant floor clerk on the second floor. It's one of the "cushy" jobs here, I gather, and I have been moved downstairs again into D-4, known as "politicians' row." It's a dormitory, but much smaller than the others, and is inhabited by the clerks, who are generally the more privileged characters around here. Larry Templin, another CO [conscientious objector], is the "chief clerk," and my OPA bank-teller friend is the other assistant. Larry and Bob Brooks and I are apparently the only COs in here right now, though others have left their marks in terms of protests, strikes, and a huge mural in the dining-room that was painted by a CO artist.

...

So far I have not written much about the physical set-up of this place [the New York Federal Detention Headquarters]. Originally, I am told, it was a city garage. It has the bare bleakness of a garage, which was not relieved by the addition of cells.

The first floor is taken up by the boiler-room, the laundry (which is the "industry" here, doing work for various government institutions in the city), the visiting-room, and the dining-room and kitchen.The second floor has the offices, dispensary, clothing-room and isolation cell (known as the "hole" or "brig") in one section, and cells and dormitories in the other. The third floor has cells and dormitories, the little room that is the library, and a small auditorium.

Physically the place is unrelievedly depressing. A blower system ventilates it these scorching days by spilling terrific blasts of air on a few spots, leaving the rest virtually untouched. Cells and dormitories alike have no walls other than the steel bars; there is, of course, no privacy whatever at any time, and there is also not a single minute of real quiet. There must be three hundred or more men here, and the place is not supposed to have more than half that number.

We get up at six, have breakfast a half-hour later, lunch at eleven, supper at four. At nine-thirty lights go out, but the noise continues almost unabated until well after midnight. Every two hours during the day the gong rings for count. All doors are locked, and the prisoners stand in line wherever they happen to be while the guards count them. Each section then phones its total to the lieutenant in his office; if everyone is accounted for, the gong rings twice, but if the totals do not agree it rings only once, and a recount is in order.

Last night two recounts still left one man missing and there was a great scurrying hither and yon for two hours or more, with the guards periodically coming around to count us again, obviously unwilling to believe that one of us would deliberately try to get away. Eventually they found a youngish fellow who had squeezed himself in between a ventilator pipe and the ceiling, apparently in the far-fetched hope that he could escape through the ventilating system. There is a story going around that the guards beat him up, but so far I have not been able to confirm it.

Met Bill Mason today, the young Negro prisoner whom Bayard Rustin met a few months ago when he was here. He is a powerful, well-built chap, pleasant and likable. He seemed a little reserved, though he spoke warmly of Bayard. I am impressed by his courage and equanimity; he has been here thirty months, which must be a world's record of some sort. He is obviously popular: as we walked slowly along man after man, black and white, called greetings to him.

West Street is used to hold prisoners who are awaiting trial, men who have been sentenced and are awaiting shipment to a regular prison, and men who have sentences of three months or less, which they serve right here. All are federal prisoners, of course, and include dope addicts (junkies) and peddlers, OPA violators, Mann Act offenders (transporting a female interstate for immoral purposes) ; all kinds of interstate criminals, from confidence men to hijackers; bootleggers; Army and Navy impersonators, and a large number of draft dodgers, along with a cellful of German-American "Bundists." Aside from the COs, these last are the intellectual "class" of the place, and, unlike the COs, are inclined to hold themselves disdainfully aloof from the common herd. One of them, a physician, is the Captain's clerk, which is about the top inmate job here and includes a good bit of ordering the other inmates around, while another is his assistant, under whose directions we floor clerks operate. Comical, in a way."

- Alfred Hassler, Diary of a Self-Made Convict. Foreword by Harry Elmer Barnes. Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1954 (written 1944-1945), p. 15-17.

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 7

Summer

Chapters: Six | Seven

Master List

Warnings: Fluff, Fluff and more Fluff

Word Count: ~2.74k

Inspiration: Don't Go - Exo

A/N: And with this chapter, I conclude this series. Thank you for all the love you all gave my baby project!

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall, @badbitxhbuckybarnes , @sweet-assh0le

‘Why am I nervous? We've done much more than just kiss. For fucks sake! I'm the mother of his child.’

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down before pushing the cart from behind your truck towards the large glass doors of the café. You had offered to take today’s batch of bread and pastries to Levi’s to snag a chance to see him, much to Mikasa’s annoyance.

“Oi, brat! You’re late.”, Levi remarked without looking up from his laptop when the bell above the door rang with your entrance, expecting her to have finally arrived.

“Levi, I’m so sorry! I made an impromptu decision to come here instead of Mikasa and -”, you emerged from behind the lofty stack of boxes.

Your hair was up in a messy bun, you were panting from hauling the weight and the resultant perspiration made you glow. Your continual rambling about why you were late, instantly gave him a feeling of Déjà vu, hurling him eight years back in time to the morning when he first laid his eyes on you.  Mirroring that day, he couldn’t focus on anything you were saying, gawking at you with unblinking eyes given how stupefied he was by the sight before his eyes and the sound of your voice.

“Levi? Are you listening?”, you waved your hand in front of his face, disrupting the mental movie playing in his head.

“Huh? Oh, y-yeah. Hi.” he shook his head vigorously and blinked a few times to bring himself back to the present.

Both a blushing mess, you stood by the entrance to the cafe, smiling at each other like two smitten high-schoolers.

“Are you finally back together?”, a shriek from the opposite end of the seating area made your ears ring.

The cacophony was loud enough that Erwin’s head immediately peaked out of his office; his face riddled with confusion. Both your necks snapped towards the source - Hange was running in your direction with the brightest grin on their face. Every head in the room was turned towards you. Eren and other new members of staff at the café, Armin, Jean, Sasha and Connie were slack jawed with their gaping eyes fixed on you after being subjected to this abrupt and unnecessary announcement. One look from Levi sent them scrambling back to work.

“Fucking four-eyes.” he mumbled as they came closer.

“I knew it! You lovebirds couldn’t stay apart for long!”, they squealed with joy enveloping you both in an spontaneous group hug, not giving Levi an opportunity to flinch away.

“Shhh! Calm down, Hange! We’re not back together. Yet.”, you tugged on their hands trying to free yourself from their clasp.

Levi's eyes met and stayed on yours when you uttered the last word, the way his heart fluttered at the sound of it clearly reflecting on his face.

Yet.

“But you were together last night. You have both put in way too much effort in your appearances today. And the color on Short-stack's cheeks can be spotted from Mars! What am I missing here?”, they observed, unaware of the heat rising within their two friends thinking about their final moments together at the Ackerman home yesterday.

Always the perceptive one, Hange. They weren’t entirely wrong. You did spend forty minutes in your closet hunting for the one floral lemon-yellow dress that Levi loved seeing you in; piling on deodorant while simultaneously cursing the hot summer. You picked your reflection in the mirror apart for way too long, fiddling with the necklace he bought you ages ago while rehearsing what you would say to him.

By the looks of it, he did too. He looked oh-so handsome today. Granted, he always did. But today was different. He wore your favorite navy-blue button-down shirt with slate grey slacks, sleeves folded to reveal his toned fore arms, and the top two buttons left open to aid with the sweltering heat; or was it because he knew that it made you weak in the knees when he wore his shirts that way? And his cheeks and ears were definitely a brighter shade of pink than the raspberry compote on the cheesecake you brought.

He stood pinching the bridge of his nose, his breathing starting to speed up. You figured it was his attempt at suppressing the strong urge to smack the grin right off Hange’s face.

“Hange, I promise, I’ll give you all the details later. But for now, Levi and I have things to discuss.”, you pulled him away before he could act on his impulse.

Taking a seat at the table by the large bay window, kissed by the morning sun, you watched the city slowly rise awake with your cheek resting on the palm of your hand. Levi, who was walking back from the kitchen with a cup of tea for himself and a caramel latte for you, stopped in his tracks to mentally frame this image. It was as if you were a different person than who he met over the last two days.

There were no signs of the anxious but adoring mother from yesterday nor the bewildered, pained ex-wife from the day before; you were the same clumsy, moody, garrulous, as well as kind, selfless and mesmerizing woman he fell madly in love with when you walked in through the doors of this very place eight years ago. How could one person flood his heart with a barrage of different emotions this way?

You acknowledged him with a soft ‘hi’ accompanied by a smile when he sat down on the chair opposite to you, nervous about the forthcoming conversation. You stole occasional glances at each other while sipping your beverages, hesitating to be the one to say the first word.

“Do you hate me?”, he asked out of the blue, his gaze locked on his cup.

“No! Why would you think that?”

“Uh- you obviously had a chance to think about what I said to you after going home last night. Why would you possibly want to still see me?”

“Well, I’m here, aren't I? I want to work on us if you’re willing to try as well, Levi. I want to see where this takes us.”, you smiled, placing your hand on his.

"Me too."

.

.

Four months later

The day of Suki and Furlan's wedding was finally here. The venue was set, guests had arrived and you were busy helping the bride get ready for her special day, having spent all morning with her, Isabel and the other bridesmaids in the bridal suite, chatting away in excitement and anticipation for the day ahead.

“Honestly speaking, Suki, I’d have a hard time keeping my hands off you if I were Furlan”, you teased while draping the veil into her hair, causing her to bury her face into her palms.

“You’re one to talk! Levi has been looking for reasons to see you all morning. I had to turn him away thrice already. I'm pretty sure he is going to murder me after the wedding is over.”, Isabel shot back with a smirk.

The last four months had been nothing short of a whirlwind. After that morning at the cafe, having breakfast with Levi turned into a routine. He brought Luna along on most days, and the three of you spent time chatting and admiring the toddler’s antics over tea and scones while sitting at your usual table by the bay window. Sometimes you’d have her accompany you to the patisserie to give Levi a much-deserved break.

Everyone there was enamored with the little firecracker. Her Uncle Miche had always been her favorite because the gentle giant ferried her around the large kitchen on his shoulders. Bertholdt and Reiner would happily comply to all the orders their mini boss belted out. Annie, although a little awkward around her, listened intently to her endless stories; Mikasa secretly pampered her with numerous treats even after several warnings from you, and Nanaba would fuss over her all the time and try to keep the little one all to herself, earning protests from the others.

The evenings varied between taking Luna to the park or the pier, or just spending time indoors at your place or his. You even celebrated her fourth birthday two weeks ago. All your friends and family, along with some little friends the birthday girl had made at the park were invited. You spent a beautiful evening in the backyard of your house around a bonfire, with a delectable meal and wonderful company.

Levi especially made sure you knew that you were being wooed by taking you out on date nights every now-and-then to the finest of restaurants, walks on the beach, to the drive-in theater a few miles outside your town, or star gazing from your favorite spot up the nearby hill. You both were working through your differences and had barely had any disagreements during the time spent together. Things were slowly falling in place; in fact, this newly re-built relationship with him felt much stronger than ever before.

The flashback ended when the wedding planner knocked on the door indicating it was time for the ceremony to begin. You, Isabel, and the other bridesmaids ushered Suki to her designated spot, making sure her dress, hair, make up and flowers looked perfect.

.

.

Standing at the altar by Furlan’s side as his best man, Levi was relieved that he would finally be seeing you soon after being apart all morning. Lately, the two of you spent most of your time together; and this sudden separation had him feeling restless.

On cue, the two harpists seated on either side of the rows began to play heavenly tune of ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perry, a prompt for the bride’s party to start making their way towards the altar. He watched patiently as bridesmaids accompanied by groomsmen walked down the aisle, waiting for you to finally appear. He almost forgot to breathe when your form eventually entered the nave, walking a short distance behind Isabel and one of Furlan’s friends.

You wore the emerald gown from your encounter with him at the store four months ago, and looked a million times more beautiful this morning. Your usually open hair was tied into an elegant loose braid with some curly strands framing your face. The sun rays falling on your silhouette from the towering stained-glass windows of the church made you look like an angel descending solely upon him. He finally began breathing again when you smiled at him and mouthed “breathe”, after taking your position at the altar.

Levi only peeled his eyes away from you when Luna’s giggles reverberated off the stone walls as she waddled down the aisle, scattering petals of baby pink roses, about the same shade has her chubby cheeks, on the ivory carpet. You wiped a stray tear rolling down your face as you both proudly watched her play the part of a flower girl with utmost perfection. Upon making it to the end, she ran to you and buried her face in your gown, suddenly feeling shy from the cheers and applause she received from the smitten guests.

You instantly scooped her up and held her close, letting her nuzzle into the crook of your neck, cooing sweet words of encouragement into her ears. Levi was so taken by this divine scene before him that he failed to notice the bride's much awaited walk down the aisle; surprised to directly find Suki standing at the altar, facing Furlan with her lips curved into the widest smile before his attention found you and Luna again.

He lost track of how long he was marveling at his two perfect girls for, until he felt an elbow harshly crash into his ribs, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“Is this revenge for your wedding?”, Furlan frowned.

Levi blankly stared at him, having no clue what he was talking about

“Ring, Levi!”, the fuming groom growled.

Oh, right. He pursed his lips in embarrassment melting under the scrutiny of the baffled guests while he handed over the ring that was in the safety of his blazer’s pocket. His eyes darted towards an alarmed Suki and silently apologized to her. Then his gaze moved back to you, an impish smirk on your face as you stared back at him, knowing exactly what was going on in his mind.

Fuck! Furlan was not going to let this go for a long time.

Luna had lost interest in the festivities midway through the nuptials and had fallen asleep in your arms. After the ceremony, when everyone began to make their way outside the chapel, Levi swiftly moved over to walk beside you and offered to carry the snoozing toddler. You groaned after her weight left your body, stretching your sore shoulders and aching back .

“Stop that. You have no idea how hard it is to control myself from jumping your bones, especially when you look this gorgeous.”, Levi whispered in your ear, snaking an arm around your waist.

You glanced around awkwardly making sure his words did not fall on any prying ears and gave him a quick smack on the shoulder, trying to suppress the heat creeping up your neck.

.

.

Time skip – Evening

The wedding reception was underway. You sat at a table sipping lemonade, watching the newlyweds grooving to the beats of music being played by DJ Zeke. Levi swapped his usual glass of Macallan for a cup of ginger lemon tea; His reason being that his throat was sore from carrying out best man duties. But you knew he was just being supportive of your goal to stay off alcohol.

Erwin and Hange sat by the bar, socializing with Furlan’s Boss, Mr. Pyxis while Luna was busy playing duck-duck-goose with some new toddler friends she made at the venue. Levi needed to be physically restrained from ambushing Isabel who he had discovered slow dancing with the same groomsman that walked alongside her at the ceremony. Miche and Nanaba were spotted in a rare public embrace, dancing leisurely to the slow music; and your army of helpers consisting of Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Sasha, Connie, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie took the lead on setting up tables as yours and Levi’s patisserie and café were the official caterers for the evening.

The choice of DJ Zeke's next track brought a sparkle to your eyes. Your smile spread from ear to ear when ‘Fly me to the Moon' by Frank Sinatra emanated from the speakers. You sang along and began swaying cheerfully in your seat to the melody.

“Remember, Levi? This was the song we had our first dance to at our wedding.” you reminisced; a nostalgic smile spread across your face.

“How can I forget?”, he asked.

His eyes were unfocused, lost in memories of his own. He remembered how ethereal you looked in your white wedding dress. How your diamond jewelry shimmered under the spotlight, how you whispered honeyed words into his ears when he felt exceptionally uncomfortable dancing in public, how warm your hands felt wrapped around his body, how your breath tickled his neck. He’d give anything just to go back and relive that moment.

You gaze was still lost among people enjoying themselves on the dance floor when a stretched-out hand entered your line of vision. Your eyes followed it to land on Levi’s face. A quirk in your eyebrows wordlessly asked him what this action meant.

“Let's dance.”, he said.

“You, Levi Ackerman, are willingly asking me to dance? Did someone spike your tea?” You smirked, earning an eye roll from him.

“Oi, brat! Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

“May I have this dance with you, my love?”

You accepted and the pair of you headed towards the dance floor. He gently pulled you close to him and firmly held on to your hand. His other hand wrapped firmly around your waist and you rested yours on his shoulder. You both moved to the slow rhythm in perfect harmony, as you drowned in those gorgeous blue-grey eyes. It felt like the world around you had dissolved and it was just the two of you and the music.

“You look nice today. I see you bought the same gray suit you hated with a fiery passion.”, you teased.

“How could I not after you said you liked it?”

You looked over his shoulder to Suki and Furlan flashing you a wide grin from across the dance floor. And so did Hange, Miche and Nanaba from over that the bar. Erwin gently raised his drink in your direction. The heat from the from the sudden metaphorical spot light you stood under was cooled by the kiss Levi planted on your cheek.

“Did I tell you how lucky I feel to have you?”, he whispered into your ear as while brushing strands of hair off your face.

“I could stand to hear it more often.”, You hid your blush by resting your forehead on his shoulder, feeling too shy to keep his gaze.

“It's true. You’re the most beautiful woman is this room tonight, scratch that, you’ll be the most beautiful woman anywhere, any day; and I get the honor of calling you mine.” he cooed, drawing gentle circles on your back with his fingers.

“You’re awfully talkative today!”, you lifted your head again to reveal a contagious coy smile spread across your lips.

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve always been talkative.”,

“Come with me.”, he moved you off his chest and tugged at your hand.

“Where?”, you asked in utter confusion, and a bit of annoyance at the wonderful moment being ruined, just to receive silence in response.

Levi quickly glanced over to find Luna munching on garlic bread sticks with Erwin and Hange, as he guided you away from the venue and towards the lake nearby. The ripples in the water gleamed under the moonlight, resembling liquid silver. Warm yellow light from the lamps on either side of a wooden dock dimly illuminated the path that led to a gorgeous gazebo that stood at the end, its ceiling sprinkled with fairy lights that defined the intricate floral carvings in the wood. You stood in the center of the structure and slowly spun around, marveling at the work of whose ever brilliant hands built it.

“Levi, this is stunning!”, you said gazing in all directions, running your fingers over the sophisticated engravings.

“Yes, it is.”, Levi agreed, his eyes not on the architecture, but instead on the human embodiment of radiant sunny day that stood by his side.

Not remotely expecting anything to outshine the sight before you, your vision was captured by an extravagant display of red, green, and gold against the dark blanket of the night’s sky. You jumped when the sound of the first soaring explosion caught you off guard. An arm slid across your waist and a kiss was placed on your temple. You were enamored by the shattering sparks of the fireworks, eliciting frequent oohs and aahs, until a voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“Marry me.”

It took you a few seconds to fully register what you just heard. But when you did, overwhelming feelings of joy rendered you speechless; fingers absentmindedly running over the carved railing of the gazebo, stunned orbs darting between the brilliant sky and the love of your life.

This time Levi had to remind you to breathe.

Your eyes and lips both turned into wide Os, and you slapped your hands to cover your gaping mouth when he slowly lowered himself to kneel before you, opening a little black box containing the same gorgeous ruby ring from all those years ago, which he sneaked out of your nightstand during one of his visits.

“I know that you said you wanted to take this slow. But the last four months with you have been the most precious of my life, where I got a glimpse of what having a perfect family would be like. I learnt the hard way, what I lost when I lost you and you gave me a second chance at finding happiness when you decided to come back. I promise to love and protect you every single day for the rest of my life, and even after. You complete me, love, and you complete our family. So, will you do me the honor of being Mrs. Ackerman, again?”

“Levi...”, your trembling voice was barely audible.

“Yes.”, you breathed, letting the floodgates finally open when he slid the ring on your finger.

He got back on his feet and engulfed you into the tightest embrace as you wept joyous tears into his shoulders.

“I love you so much!”

“I love you too!”, moving to look into your eyes, he cupped your face with warm hands.

And finally, his lips found yours.

It felt... like home;

Like laying in a cozy bed after a long day of work, like the warm chocolate sauce on a cold scoop of ice-cream, like wearing a fuzzy sweater on a crisp autumn evening, like walking barefoot on the beach at sunset, like taking a cool shower on a blazing summer afternoon, like everything you ever needed.

After being torn apart from the one person who made your life perfect, you were finally back in the soothing confines of his strong arms, resting against his able chest, ready to fall apart; all while the fireworks in the sky mirrored the fireworks in your hearts.

“Mama! Papa!”

You were awoken from this surreal euphoria by the most beautiful squeal you had ever heard. Both your heads turned towards the source of it – a tiny figure running towards you with all her might while all your near and dear ones including the newlyweds watched from a distance, cheering merrily.

“They knew?”, you gasped, sobbing and sniffling from the joyous tears.

“Yeah, pretty much everyone but you knew.”

Luna flew into Levi’s open arms when he bent down to receive her. The three of you merged into one blob of a positively smothering family hug, only pulling away to pepper each other with more kisses. Levi held his two girls close. His sun and moon were now back together in the sky of his life. He looked into Luna’s crescent shaped eyes and whispered,

“Moon beam, Mama’s coming home.”

[geordiewrites]

I Did Something Bad | James Potter

A/N: Before reading, I just want to say this story is based around cheating, so simply if you don’t like that, don’t read it! It’s also really bad, but I need to get back into the swing of regular writing for my mental health’s sake, and this was my way of doing it so please don’t be too harsh reading it. I’m still v new to this shit, and v Geordie too so if I’m using words you don’t get or smth like that, just lemme know.

Summary: Y/N has been in love with James Potter for who knows how long... the only problem is when something happens between them, he’s in a relationship with someone else.

Warning: Infidelity, cheating, mentions of sex, angst, shit writing, shit characters, just don’t expect much okay?

“I have to tell you something.” Y/N says, fiddling awkwardly with the now frayed hem of her mustard-yellow jumper, fingers fumbling as she tries to speak.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Marlene, her best friend, asks worriedly, but Y/N just shakes her head, tears beginning to spring in her eyes. Seeing this, Marlene quickly rushes to sit next to Y/N on the edge of her bed in their gold and crimson adorned dormitory. She just stares blankly out of the window, trying and miserably failing to hide the fact that all she wants to do is rush out of Hogwarts and never return.

“I don’t even know where to start, Marls.” She mewls between choked sobs. “There’s so much I haven’t told anybody.”

“You can tell me.” Marlene continues, throwing a comforting arm over her friend’s shoulders with ease. Her face is twisted with worry, the kind of anxiousness that Marlene has never seen before and frankly is terrified by. “Just start at the beginning, I suppose. Who’s all this about anyway? Do I need to beat anyone up?” Marlene says frantically, and Y/N lets out a humourless laugh.

“No. Me, perhaps. Just promise if I tell you, you won’t tell Lily about it?” Her voice breaks more and more with every syllable.

“Why would I need to keep something from Lily?”

“Because it’s about James. Me and James.” Y/N whispers, pressing her face into her trembling hands.

“You and James?” She questions just a little too satirically, causing Y/N to send her a withering glare. “What is it you need to tell me?”

“I slept with him, Marlene.” Y/N cries before she finally collapses into a flummox of tears and loud cries that fill the dormitory with a tense, thick silence as the information settles in.

“When?” Only one word is managed from Marlene, said in a half shocked, half angry tone. Y/N feels Marlene’s arm shift off of her shoulder as she moves to sit cross legged on the floor. Away. Away from Y/N.

“The night of the party in September when they had that huge row because he got drunk when they had agreed not to.” She replied, her throat dry and hoarse making speaking physically painful, but she had to tell somebody. Anybody who would listen and wouldn’t judge her too harshly. Unfortunately however for Marlene, this burden fell to her since everyone else was out that day including both Lily and James, leaving no chance of being overheard.

“How did it happen?” Merlin, Y/N, why did it fucking happen?” Marlene said angrily, looking for something to throw across the room just to watch it smash into millions of irreparable pieces.

“You know bloody why, Marls.” Y/N snapped crossly, earning something close to a sympathetic look from Marlene.

~

Y/N couldn’t remember a time she had felt so lonely as to when James was kissing her.

It was strange really, since she had been madly in love with him for who knows how long at this point. But there, with their clandestine kiss captured into fracturing moonlight in the middle of her otherwise empty dorm room, with his hands travelling softly past her waist and to her hips, lips moving against hers in the way she had dreamed of, Y/N felt more solitary than ever. Perhaps it was because she knew he didn’t love her, that to him it was just completely physical. Maybe it was because he loved another, and someone she had been friends with for years at that. Deep down she knew it was simply because it was James.

James. James who used to carry her books because he was a whole head taller than her, and therefore claimed she needed a prince to save her. James who played Quidditch with her even though she was hopeless at it, and in return she waved a Gryffindor scarf for him at his games. Sometimes he even claimed it was the reason he won. James who told her that Lily was the love of his life while crying into her shoulder, unknowing that Y/N wanted nothing more than to hear those words about herself. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t, ever.

She could taste alcohol on his tongue as it moved expertly against her own, dark and bitter and sweet all at the same time. He carried a beautiful aroma of cigarette smoke, just slightly stale, and strangely oranges and the overly expensive cologne he always wore because Lily told Marlene she liked it four years previous. Everything about him screamed his love for Lily. From tousled hair to mirror her celebrity crush, to the way his eyes lit up every time the redhead walked into a room. And then there was Y/N, hopeless and drowning in an unrequited affection.

James and Lily were the Romeo and Juliet of Hogwarts, the epitome of a saccharine love story stretching over the expanse of seven years. Seeing them together was to be in the presence of true love, at least that was what almost everyone said. Nevertheless, only Y/N seemed to notice otherwise. The longing looks at other girls from James, the way they barely ever held hands, the fact they never kissed in public... although she had brushed this all aside, convincing herself she only saw it because he was looking, and that it wasn’t actually there at all.

But there James was, about to sleep with Y/N and throw that supposedly perfect relationship with the girl he had fawned over for years into turmoil. Some selfish part of Y/N wanted just that, perhaps that was the biggest reason when he whispered an “Are you sure?” against the skin of her jawline, she replied with a definite yes.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of afterglow and skin against skin, and for the most part, Y/N felt oddly sad. James’ touch felt hot enough to let her very skin on fire where he had touched her, and yet she still felt cold knowing he didn’t love her. He didn’t spend his nights dreaming of the colour of her eyes, but she knew his were a shining hazel with tiny flecks of green interspersed within them. She knew his birthday, his favourite colours and lessons and movies and stupid muggle bands... useless details really. They didn’t mean anything except to remind her of what she didn’t have, and of what Lily did.

And of what Y/N was now taking away from her.

~

“He was sad and we were drunk out of our minds. I remember finding him alone in the corridor. I remember talking to him about Lily for awhile, and then suddenly we were kissing and I couldn’t bring myself to say no.” Y/N explained slowly, the hazy memories of that night becoming more and more clear with each passing second.

“I can’t believe this.” Marlene said, raking fingers through her honey hair and pulling on the roots in shock. “I can’t believe it, Y/N.” She repeated, over and over and over until it seemed just a little more plausible. A little more tangible. A little more real. “I don’t blame you, you know.”

“What?!” Y/N exclaimed, an icy surprise erupting in her veins and sending a cold chill throughout her body.

Marlene smiled painfully. “What you did was awful, but he was the one in a relationship.”

“‘Suppose so. What should I do?” She blurted desperately, running her hands over the burgundy silk of her duvet as she anxiously stood up.

“You have to tell Lily.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to, Y/N. He cheated on her with you!” Marlene shouted, previously calm voice rising with exasperation.

“You don’t think I know that?” Y/N hissed back, venom beginning to seep into her voice but it wasn’t even aimed at Marlene. It was aimed at James, and at herself. “I fucking know I fucked up, Marls. But I can’t tell Lily - the literal sweetest person - that I shagged her boyfriend and that I’ve been in love with him since James learned who she even was. And he’ll never feel that way about me. Ever. He saw a quick fuck when he looked at me that night and a future wife when he saw Lily. Why do you think they’re still together? Because he doesn’t care.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so very sorry. But James isn’t going to tell her, and she has to know-!”

“Maybe he will.” Y/N interrupted.

“We both know that’s a lie. Somebody has to tell her, and it’s going to have to be you.”

“Please Marlene.” She begged, heart aching within her chest as a million unkempt memories flashed through her mind in the space of a mere moment.

~

“Come on, Y/N, truth or dare?” James asks through laughter.

“I should never have agreed to play one-on-one truth or dare with you.” Y/N replies irritably, although it’s stupidly short lived when he sends her that shit eating grin, and all over again she feels like a thirteen year old with a crush. Deep down she still is, underneath the makeup and the fake laughter, she’s still the same little girl who thinks she doesn’t deserve love. “But fine, I choose truth.”

“Good choice. Alright, who was the first person you ever shagged?” James asks curiously.

“Wow, James, way to make it seem as though I’ve done a hundred people.”

“Apologies, but go on.”

“Fine.” Y/N shifts awkwardly. “It was you, actually. Back in fifth year.”

“Oh.” He replies after a long pause, which to Y/N feels as though it will never end.

“I don’t really remember it if I’m being honest.” She adds in an attempt to dispel the thick tension that has built up. It doesn’t, and James can barely meet her eyes. “We were drunk, I think.”

“I often am when I spend time with you.”

~

And that was the moment it hit Y/N. The moment when he started giggling at her confession. The moment when she knew she hated him almost just as much as she loved him, because she had let that infatuation with him consume her. The moment when he told her in return that he only needed her for drunken sex, after she had lied about remembering it. Because she did remember it, so well in fact that it may as well have been etched into her skin with scarring inks. Where he touched her, how it felt that first night. And how it felt the one they wrecked his relationship.

That day, sitting with Marlene in her dormitory having just told her of the worst crime Y/N had ever committed, it hurt just the same. And now she was stuck with this pain, this awful, selfish feeling every time she saw him and Lily together that she just wished something would happen to her and James could be together.

Y/N never expecting it to be through cheating, but perhaps that was all it would ever be.

A one night stand, forever kept in the darkest part of her mind with the rest of her regrets. Regretting never telling James of her love for him. Regretting not asking him years ago to kiss her age fourteen, maybe she could’ve had a chance to get over him then. It felt like she never had that. It was a hookup, a torrid, illicit affair.

And that was all it would ever be. But perhaps that was what she deserved.

As Y/N walked down towards the Gryffindor common room, she could only think of a few things. How Lily could possibly react, how James would react to her telling Lily because he didn’t. Both had thousands of answers, none of which she could possibly predict in the moment. Step by step down the mahogany staircase leading to the plush, homey centre room the Gryffindors adored so much, Y/N inhaled and exhaled sharp breaths, planning out exactly what she was going to say to Lily in her mind.

All of that went away when she saw them together, curled up on the red velvet sofa in front of the dying embers of a once roaring fire, just watching it flicker away with their hands intertwined. Just sat there, staring hopelessly into one another’s eyes, so deep in love they didn’t even notice her step in the room. While she expected tears to spring in her eyes, they didn’t, the usual feeling of suffocation she felt around them had suddenly disappeared.

And as Y/N watched them, it finally hit her that what James did wasn’t some way of trying to communicate a discontent in their relationship, it was a stupid, pathetic mistake. But that’s all it was: a mistake.

And they would just have to live with that.

~

Nancy xx (again, apologies for how crap this is but it’s my first attempt at writing in a loooong time)!

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 5

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~2.9k (this chapter) / ~15.1k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Kamjie (Kameron Michaels/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Lemon and Priyanka's relationship is more of a rollercoaster than ever and Rosé figures out the truth about Denali

-

“Are you still giving me the cold shoulder?” Priyanka asked, a mix of frustration and exhaustion in her voice. There was also an underlying hint of anxiety, but that was something she could address later, as much later as possible.

Lemon turned to look at her with a deadpan expression. She didn’t utter a word, instead, she blinked and looked back at her phone, scrolling in tension-filled silence.

The taller woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Lem, I told you I haven’t been avoiding you. Mark’s project got delayed so he’s home all the time. He was gonna start getting suspicious if I kept spending the night with you.”

“He keeping you occupied with that mediocre dick?” The cold harshness in her voice was, at least to Priyanka, even worse than the silence.

“Lem, don’t do this,” she pleaded softly. “You know I’d much rather be giving you my fake dick than taking his real one. But it’s just gonna be a little difficult for us to have our usual rendezvous until his project starts back up,” she explained, then quietly strummed her fingers against the bar. “I’ll make up an excuse and come over tonight… if you still want me to, I mean.”

Despite her best efforts, Lemon cracked a slight smile. “Yeah, I still do. I’m not gonna punish my pussy just because I’m still pissed at you.”

Priyanka put her arms up in surrender. “Hey, I’ll take what I can get.”

Lemon swallowed a laugh as she hopped down from the barstool. “I’ll be back after my shift, there better not be any sudden plan changes,” she warned before going upstairs to spend the time before her shift in the common room.

“You seem to be in better spirits,” Jan observed as she noticed Lemon come in. She sat down on the couch with the mug of coffee she’d just poured. “I take it Pri was finally able to pencil you in for a booty call?”

“Ugh, don’t say it like that, it makes me sound desperate,” she rolled her eyes. “Her stupid, ugly, smelly boyfriend is still around.

Jan quirked her brow. “Have you ever been in the same room as him?”

“No, but I don’t need to be to know I’m right.”

“You know I worry that you two are gonna end up in over your heads if you aren’t already,” she warned in a calm, gentle tone. She’d had a front-row seat to a fair amount of Lemon and Priyanka’s intimate trysts being Lemon’s roommate and from day one, she’d had the sinking feeling things would end badly. But there was only so much arguing one could do with someone like Lemon.

And unsurprisingly, Lemon scoffed. “Look, I know what we’ve been doing is amoral, but when you think about it, it’s not even our fault. It’s society’s fault for making Pri feel like she has some guy when I’m literally right here.”

“So you do wanna date her?”

Her face reddened, which she tried to offset by rolling her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

------

Denali fixed herself up in the quick-change dressing room. It was her last main stage dance for the night and she had just enough momentum built up to go out with a bang. She looked up when she saw Gigi walk in via the reflection in the mirror. “What’s with the smug grin?”

“I think you have a special visitor in the audience.” When they noticed the confusion in the dancer’s expression, Gigi followed up with, “Rosé asked me if you were up next and sat herself front and center when I said that you were.”

“Oh!” her voice went up in pitch and volume. She cleared her throat and instead focused on fixing her platinum blonde wig. “I mean… oh, cool. I’m sure she’ll enjoy the show.”

Gigi tilted their head to the side. “Is that how I sounded all this time? Fuck,” they shook their head. “Oh, by the way, I’ve decided to go by they/them off the clock, I’ve been letting the rest of the girls know too. It's like, I've been feeling like I’m just dressing up like a girl on stage, you know how it is.”

Denali nodded as she got up. “Whatever makes you feel the most yourself, babe,” she told her with a smile, then took a deep breath as she sauntered onto the stage to the slow, seductive beat of the music. She focused on maintaining the confidence she always brought to her performances and not letting the fact that Rosé was right in her field of vision throw her off.

Rosé watched intently, and while her gaze tended to linger on Denali’s body, she would look up at her face often enough for something to click. She finally realized she recognized the dancer from her work as a cam girl. The realization made her blush but didn’t deter her in the slightest.

After Denali had finished her number, she beckoned Rosé over. She leaned down and whispered, “go upstairs, I’ll meet you there in five,” before backing off to collect her tips as if nothing had happened.

Naturally, Rosé made her way upstairs as quickly as her legs would take her and waited eagerly for Denali to join her. “You know,” she started when she saw her, “I figured out where I know you from.”

“You got me,” she replied and slowly pulled off her wig and wig cap in one go, so her black hair cascaded down her back. “I’m Hannah Montana.”

Rosé blinked, then snorted with laughter. “You’re so fucking stupid,” her tone was fond as she shook her head. “I guess it makes sense. Taking this on as a second job.”

“I’m a people person, being in front of a camera just doesn’t do it for me. Money’s decent, but still. I’ve been considering bringing that stage name over here.”

“Oh you’re not gonna make poor Heidi try and announce ‘Aurora Borealis,” she playfully chastised. Then there was a beat of silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “Did you think I’d have a problem with it or something?”

“No,” she shrugged. “It was more fun making you work for it.”

She cocked her brow. “Oh, you’re a little brat, aren’t you?”

“I feel like there’s not much use in trying to argue that, so.” Denali leaned against the wall, looking up at Rosé and fluttering her lashes with coy flirtation. “You gonna do something about it or not?”

Rosé tilted her head and bit her lip, moving closer to Denali until she had both arms bracketing her against the wall. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Was that your endgame the whole time? Give me this whole run around until I was frustrated enough to fuck you as hard as your bratty ass wants?”

“I mean… yes, obviously.”

“Not in the common room, we eat and cry in here.” Jan’s voice pulled Rosé and Denali from their moment, but she shrugged when they glared at her. “What? Just fuck in the spa room like the rest of us,” she told them as she grabbed a cup o’ noodles from one of the drawers that Jackie kept stocked for the girls, and left a couple of dollars from her bra in its place.

Rosé rolled her eyes. “Bitch, I will fuck her in front of you, don’t test me.”

Jan scoffed as she started eating her noodles. “Do it, I dare you.”

“I am begging you not to,” another voice chimed in, the three women turned to see Lemon come up the stairs. While of course, she had no issue with hooking up in various parts of the building, Rosé is her cousin and that was simply a line she refused to cross. She did not care how badly Rosé wanted to fuck Denali – and yes, she knew.

“I cannot believe you’re cockblocking me right now,” she huffed, glancing back at Denali and mouthing ‘sorry’.

But Denali was unphased by the entire exchange. “Girl, just take me home. I’m still gonna put out.”

“Oh,” Rosé blinked, “alright then.”

------

Even though it had barely been a week since Lemon and Priyanka had last hooked up, it felt like ages for them. The second they were inside Lemon’s apartment, clothes were coming off and being tossed any which way as they stumbled into the bedroom, naked by the time their bodies hit the bed.

Priyanka rifled through Lemon’s closet until she came back with the strap-on, fastening it around her waist. She smirked when she turned around and realized Lemon was waiting for her on all fours. “Damn, I should hold out on you more often,” she teased.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Lemon hissed as if there was the slightest chance Priyanka would pass up time with her if given the option.

She chuckled as she positioned herself behind her. “There’s my bratty little Lem,” she cooed, holding her waist with one hand while the other guided the length of the silicone toy into her. She waited for a beat after she bottomed out, making sure Lemon was comfortable before she began thrusting steadily.

Lemon started moaning out the second it started. Her hands fisted into the comforter on her bed, her head hanging forward. Whenever she wanted more or wanted it harder, she would push her hips against Priyanka to urge her on.

And Priyanka knew what each movement meant. “You’re so fucking needy, aren’t you? So desperate to get pounded out,” she grunted. Her hand moved from Lemon’s waist to grab her hair, pulling it back while her free hand moved between her legs, rubbing her clit in time with her thrusts.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, please,” it was only when Lemon was in the heat of the moment, and close to an orgasm, that she would use words like ‘baby’ or ‘please’ unless she was trying to get her way with something. But luckily for her, Priyanka obliged without comment, and she let out a sharp, pleasured cry as she came moments later.

“That’s my good girl,” Priyanka praised, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as she eased out of her, cleaning up and putting the dildo and harness away, then got under the covers. “Come, you owe me cuddles.”

Lemon ducked her head away to hide how big her smile was, then cuddled up to Priyanka, resting her head on her chest. “Not to be like, corny or whatever, but I missed you,” she mumbled, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, lest she accidentally make eye contact.

Priyanka grinned, shaking her head. “I missed you too, weirdo,” she said and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She gazed down at her, feeling warmth and affection for a fleeting moment, before angst and melancholy built up from the pit of her stomach, coming out in a sad sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” she chewed on her lip and looked away. “Yeah, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

------

Rosé hummed to herself as she got into the shower, letting the hot water wake her up from the deep sleep the night before. And perhaps she needed it more than she realized, as she was startled when she suddenly noticed she was no longer alone. “I thought you were still asleep.”

Denali shrugged. “I was. But then I woke up and you weren’t there, and I got bored.”

She chuckled softly, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman’s waist. “Well, good morning, then,” she pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You sleep alright?”

“More than alright. Pretty sure I passed out somewhere after the fourth orgasm,” she chuckled softly, trailing light kisses along her jaw.

Rosé smirked. “No wonder you’re so clingy, they always wanna stick around after they get fucked well,” she teased, her hands moving from Denali’s back to squeeze her ass. “That why you’re in here? Woke up craving more?”

“God, you’re so fucking cocky,” Denali huffed, though she had no honest way of denying that. “But… yeah, very much so.”

“That’s what I thought,” she chuckled before sinking to her knees and nudging Denali’s thighs apart. She gripped each of her thighs, keeping them far enough apart for her to trace her tongue along her folds, then swirled it around her clit.

Denali gasped out softly, resting her head against the wall. “Fuck…” she exhaled, her eyes fluttering shut, moaning at the sensation of Rosé’s tongue on her clit and her fingers easing their way into her.

Rosé continued to lick and suck on her clit as she steadily curled and thrust two fingers into Denali, her free hand moving to her waist, gripping it to keep her steady and hold her in place.

She whimpered and moaned, dragging her fingers through Rosé’s wet hair, her hips starting to rock despite her grip. It wasn’t long after that that she felt a familiar tightness building in her stomach. “Fuck, Rosie, I’m close,” she warned, and not a minute after that, her body arched forward as she came.

Once she was certain Denali was done, Rosé eased out of her and stood back upright, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Now, do you mind if I actually take a shower? I have to get ready for work.”

“Okay, okay,” Denali put her hands up in surrender as she stepped out of the shower. “You think your roommate heard us last night? Or just now?”

Rosé shrugged as she washed her hair. “Probably not, Mik sleeps like a rock. The bitch would sleep through a nuclear holocaust.”

“Fair enough, not that I mind an audience, after all,” she hummed. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” she laughed at her own joke then kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you around.” She dried off and redressed before leaving for her apartment. Everything had gone well so far, she thought, the sex was fantastic and they didn’t need to complicate it with anything else.

------

Lemon had just finished her set when she noticed something out of the ordinary. After grabbing her robe from the quick-change room, she made her way over to the bar. “What’re you doing back there, Jaida? Is Jackie cross-training the strippers now?”

“I bartended in college,” Jaida explained. “Pri couldn’t come in, said she had an important dinner to go to, and based on how it sounded, I think it’s with her boyfriend.”

“Gross,” Lemon muttered. “Gimme a melon ball and a lemon drop.”

Jaida arched her brow but made the shots for her nonetheless. “You a little cranky without your girlfriend here, huh?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” she huffed, downing the shots one after the other. “And I don’t care who the fuck she has dinner with. I’m just annoyed because she was supposed to give me a ride home. Since, you know, Jan spends more time at Nicky’s than anywhere else.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” she offered with a shrug. “Something tells me you’re not gonna wanna be alone tonight.”

Lemon smiled weakly. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She was quiet for a few beats with her downcast gaze on the bar, until she finally looked back up at Jaida and asked, “can I get another lemon drop?”

And, as it turned out, Lemon would need the adult supervision. Once her shift ended, she had gotten much more drunk and needed to be hauled into her apartment and tucked into bed, where she passed out almost instantly.

Jaida had stayed awake and watched Lemon for a little while, feeling almost a maternal instinct when it came to Lemon. But eventually, she retired to Jan’s room for the night, figuring she wouldn’t mind, given the circumstances, and slept through the night. She woke up the next morning to a knock on the door and pushed herself out of bed. “Oh, hey Pri, how was your dinner?”

Priyanka furrowed her brows. “Why are you in Lemon’s apartment?” she asked, her stomach tightening in a knot as she followed up with, “did you guys hook up?”

“Nah, she was too wasted to even try,” she shook her head as she ushered her inside, the two of them sitting down on the couch. “What’s going on? You look like you saw a ghost or something.”

Priyanka exhaled deeply. “No, um… actually, I’m kinda glad I can practice on someone else, because I’m terrified of telling Lemon,” she looked down, fumbling with the hem of her shirt, shifting uncomfortably, unable to find a satisfactory way to sit and instead just slumped forward and sighed. “Mark proposed. And I panicked and said yes.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring, morosely sliding it onto her finger.

“Oh shit,” Jaida blinked in surprise, her eyes widening when she saw the ring. She pressed her lips into a fine line. “Listen, this might not be the ‘right’ advice, but I don’t think you should tell Lemon yet. You can say whatever you want about whatever your relationship is, but it don’t take a rocket scientist to know it’s more than just sex. She’s not gonna take it well, you need to really think this out.”

She swallowed thickly and nodded, taking the ring off and putting it back in her pocket, then scratched at her hands as if she were fighting the urge to wash them. “You’re right,” she nodded, eyes focused squarely on the floor. “I can’t tell her yet.”

But she didn’t need to, as Lemon had been silently listening from her room, peering through the cracked open door. She shut it quickly but quietly, deciding to go right back to bed. It was too early for her heart to break.

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 4.2 - Drifting Yunichika

2. BOYS’ NIGHT

I’m back...for real this time

Translation Notes

1. Japanese rooms are often measured by tatami mat. A tatami mat is about 1.65 square meters.

2. Vabo-chan is a mascot character created by Fuji TV that shows up during volleyball game broadcasts. It’s basically a white ball with hands and feet and creepy looking eyes

3. The “itoko”/Itoko pun is back! Itoko is the Japanese word for cousin and also Kuroba’s cousin’s name

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Seiin High School was built on a slope at the foot of a mountain. It took fifteen minutes to climb up the hill from the school building, and the training camp was located in a place where you had to push through the woods of the mountain behind the school. It was a one-story wooden house that was in all probability haunted, rumored to have existed before the school was founded. The mountain was also owned by the school, and at the end of the first semester, all the first-year students were sent to collect firewood for the school festival campfire. The memory of being eaten alive by mosquitoes was fresh in his mind. Even though he wasn’t stung, just walking into the woods brought back the itchiness he had felt all over his body.

From July 26 to 30, this would be the lodging house for the boys’ volleyball team’s summer training camp. Two days after training camp was over, the Fall Tournament would be coming up from August 1 to 3. It was a one-off tournament that wasn’t connected to Nationals, but it was a chance for them to check well their team was doing as well as to gauge the strength of the other schools so that they could make final adjustments for the Spring Tournament prefectural preliminaries at the end of September.

The house was a minimalist structure, with a twenty-mat (1) Japanese-style room, kitchen, canteen, and communal washrooms for men and women, and the facilities were also very simple. It of course didn’t have luxury items like air conditioners installed, just an old-fashioned electric fan in the canteen.

“I wish there’s a fan in this room too…”

After the study session in the canteen had finished, he was lying on his stomach at the edge of the Japanese-style room to cool off when Okuma stepped on his back and he let out a “Gueh” like a crushed frog. “Wait, it’s coming out, the food I ate.”

“Hey, where did Haijima go?”

“Please don’t treat us as a set. Didn’t he get caught by Aoki-senpai and is still in the canteen? Aoki-senpai doesn’t seem like he’d be satisfied he can’t do something about his modern lit.”

When they got their results back from their end-of-term tests for the first semester, the academic abilities of the new recruits had become joke material for their seniors. Kuroba was good at Japanese overall, but in most other subjects he just barely avoided failing. Haijima, on the other hand, was…

After the seniors exclaimed “Whoa…” in astonishment at his amazingly high marks in subjects that had to do with calculation and memorization, the eye-avertingly awfulness of his writing subjects made them fall down and say, “Never mind…”

“Haijima seems uncomfortable with Aoki-senpai. He looks like he hates him.”

Futons were already laid out in the Japanese-style room. It was four futons in two rows, with the pillow side facing each other. They had laid them out themselves, so it was quite messy. Hokao and Uchimura, who had already taken up positions on the middle two futons that formed a second-year island and were fully ready to sleep, lifted their heads off their pillows and said, “Oh, that—”

“Haijima got kicked by Aoki-senpai because he pissed him off, right? In April.”

“Has Aoki-senpai ever gotten angry?”

“He’s scary when he’s angry. No, it’s more harsh rather than scary.”

“Aoki-senpai gets harsh when he’s angry, and it’s Kanno who’s scary when he’s angry.”

Hokao and Uchimura looked at each other and stifled laughter. The various sounds of summer insects continually fell like a gentle drizzle, constantly beating against the awning of the porch. When the storm shutters were fully slid open, they felt a moderately comfortable breeze. However, mosquitoes also flew in, so mosquito repelling incense stood in the four corners of the room making thin plumes of smoke.

The mixture of incense smoke and the remaining scent of the yakiniku was already thickly staining the T-shirts they had changed into after practice. I might have eaten too much meat…my stomach hurts… Well, the excess calories could be easily consumed in tomorrow’s practice, and in any case, Kuroba didn’t have such a delicate body that a weight change of one kilogram or around that could affect his jumping power. By the way, Okuma was the only member of the team who was required to lose weight. He had too much muscle mass.

“It’d be boring if Haijima wasn’t here.”

“Is there something interesting?”

When he tried to get up, Okuma sat astride his back. “Heavy…I really am too full…” And that’s why you’re so irritating… Moreover, he chose the right person. It was detestable that he thought he could get away with this kind of messing around with Kuroba, but didn’t do it with Haijima.

Okuma thrust his cell phone into his face from behind. His phone was the latest model with a big screen. The moment his eyes landed on the screen, Kuroba stopped his complaints with an “Oh? …” and gulped. It was a video of a woman with a lot of exposed skin, so to speak, squirming and moaning on white sheets, with one thing or another being done to her. “Senpai, turn up the volume a little bit. I can’t hear.” He attached himself to the screen in spite of himself and strained his ears.

“Huh, you reacted normally. I thought you’d be more embarrassed since you seem so innocent.”

“I have an older cousin, so he shows me a lot of this stuff. Hey, the volume. How do you turn up the volume on this thing?’

“Idiot, the third-years will hear it. You got a voice fetish or something? Boring, I knew I should wait for Haijima’s reaction.”

“Ah…so mean.”

He was about to grab his phone away, but Okuma snatched it away from him.

“Oh, speak of the devil.”

Kanno and Haijima appeared at the door of the room while talking about something. Judging from Haijima’s gestures, it seemed that they were talking about the duo they had been playing as all day. Or rather, that was the only thing Haijima could talk about in such an assertive way.

“Hey, hey, come over here, you two.”

Okuma was beckoning them over with a scheming look on his face, and the two looked at each other dubiously before coming over.

“What is it?” Kanno said politely, even though they were in the same school year.

“The curry recipe. You two are in charge tomorrow.”

As soon as Kanno peered into the phone screen Okuma pushed into their faces, he let out a “Wah” and turned his face away. While holding the edge of the phone between his fingertips and passing it off to Haijima, he pulled his hood down over his eyes. “I’m not too good with this kind of thing.”

“Oh. I see, I see. So you’re used to seeing it with Suemori-san.”

“Haa!?”

He suddenly snapped. It was the first time they heard Kanno’s angry voice, so Kuroba and Okuma unconsciously bent themselves back. Even Hokao and Uchimura, who had known him for a long time, started on their futons.

“Aren’t you going out with Suemori-san?”

“Absolutely not, and if you ever try to bring that sort of topic up with Ibara-cha…Suemori-san…”

His voice went a tone lower, and there was even bloodlust rising up from his shoulders. The aura of Kanno, who was usually quiet, and if anything, had practically no presence, suddenly swelled, frightening Okuma, who was fifty percent wider. Kuroba took that opportunity to crawl out from under Okuma’s buttocks. Hokao and Uchimura looked at each other under their pillows, whispering to each other, “We warned him that he’d be scary when he gets pissed off…” “Right?”

“S-sorry, sorry. I won’t say it again…” Ibara-chan, Okuma mouthed, looking like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t seem to have the courage to make fun of him to his face anymore.

“As long as you understand.”

Kanno said, then easily retracted his harsh look and reverted to his usual low-key presence. He tucked his hands into the sleeves of his hoodie, walked with sliding steps to the wall where his things were, looking like a ghost floating a few centimeters off the floor.

“Haa… So which one of us has a girlfriend?”

Okuma sat crossed-legged on the porch, facing the room, and ended up tossing out a blunt question without having learned anything at all. Hokao, Uchimura, and Kuroba all looked away vaguely. If he had one, the most exciting event during the summer vacation of his first year in high school would not have been a boring thing like a team training camp.

“This is so sad. You’re young, so you should be hungrier. The captain doesn’t look like he has a girl at all, and the only one who might be popular is the vice-captain?”

Okuma played innocent and judged others with his own arbitrary impressions.

“So, how about you, Haijima?”

When he finally brought up the subject to Haijima, Kuroba secretly felt something like a sense of superiority, thinking, This guy still has no idea at all.

Volleyball was his lover. Or rather, if volleyball was one of the opposite sex, Haijima would no doubt become her obstinate stalker. If he had a girlfriend, that would definitely be a cataclysm. Haijima, who was watching the video with his fingers pressing the earpieces of his glasses and looking like he was seriously trying to decipher a curry recipe, answered bluntly, “I don’t, and I never had one.” Just when he thought, There you go,

“Well, that’s what I thought. You seem to have completely matured from kind of stuff.”

“I did have a girl I liked.”

He doubted his ears because Haijima had reluctantly answered back to Okuma.

“Se…seriously!?”

Without thinking, he got up from lying on his stomach and crawled over to Haijima. “She’s an actual human being, right!? She’s got proper arms and legs, right!? Ah, Vabo-chan (2) does has arms and legs, but they’re not human, so wake up!” “What are you talking about…Why Vabo-chan?” Haijima screwed his face up. Okuma was doubled over laughing on the porch.

“Vabo-chan! That’s hilarious, Kuroba!”

Hokao and Uchimura had collapsed onto their futons, making strange laughing noises. Even Kanno was crouching in front of his bag with his shoulders shaking furtively. “…What does it mean?” Haijima was looking more and more reluctant. “No, I didn’t say that to make you laugh, senpai. It’s a problem that seriously needs to be examined.” “What do you mean?”

“What are you are getting noisy about? I’m turning off the lights.”

It seemed that the clamor could be heard all the way in the canteen, as Oda looked in from the door with a severe look on his face.

“Good grief, save your strength or you’ll regret it to the point of vomiting tomorrow. And I mean that literally.”

From behind Oda, who lowered his voice and gave off a sense of danger, Aoki also appeared, bowing his head to avoid scraping his head against the lintel.

“You remember me saying that those who can’t sleep will do dashes on the slope, right? Okuma, you seem to be the most energetic one here.”

“Not at all. I can fall asleep in a second.”

Okuma shoved his phone under the stomach of his T-shirt and dived into his futon. Hokao and Uchimura were now pretending to be dead, and Kanno, who was at the bags until just a while ago, was quickly tucking himself into his futon before they knew it. Somehow, the beds were arranged by seniority, with the two third-years on the innermost territory, the four second-years in the middle territory, and the first-years Kuroba and Haijima in the territory near the door.

As soon as the ceiling lights were turned off and darkness fell, the room that had been full of clamor and noise suddenly became strangely quiet. Immediately after, they began to hear someone snoring. Ten to one, that deep and throaty snoring belonged to Okuma. He was jealous that he really could sleep in a second.

Even when he laid down and closed his eyes, Kuroba couldn’t go to sleep easily. It was true that his body was exhausted from the first day of training camp, but his head was strangely clear.

He opened up his futon, turned over, and then stared into the darkness. A blue light, slightly brighter than the indoor lights, shined in from the porch, and the jagged shadows of the trees pierced into the night sky. Mosquitoes buzzed in his ears, and he waved them away in irritation.

…Mmm. Can’t sleep. I feel too excited for some reason.

He turned over again, and this time he was lying on his stomach and hugging his pillow. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning forward. “You up?”

He saw the head moving slightly on the pillow that was lined up face-to-face with his.

“Go to sleep.”

A curt voice responded to him in the darkness.

“I can’t, though.”

“Then go run outside.”

“Hey, when did you like that girl? It wasn’t when we were at Monshiro Middle, was it?”

“I told you to go to sleep. You think this is a school trip or something?”

“It’s definitely not Itoko, right?” (3)

There was the rustling of clothing, and the hair that had been hanging down on the pillow rose up. Haijima also lied on his stomach and stretched his neck towards him over his pillow. His brow was wrinkled and his eyes were narrowed so much that he looked positively villainous.

“Why are you talking about ‘itoko’?”

“Ah, did you just call her by her first name!?”

He was so shocked that his voice became louder. Haijima’s expression became even more grim, and he abruptly swept his hand off to the side of his pillow. When he was wondering what was going on, he grabbed his glasses that were caught on his fingers in a careless but familiar manner, put them on, and then thrusted his face at him again.

“Are you still seeing that cousin of yours?”

“Seeing…wh-what are you talking about, we’re not seeing each other at all! We go to different schools, I don’t really have any feelings for her, and she’s like a sister-in-law.”

As he was listing that off in a shrill and excited voice, …Hmm? Something doesn’t seem to be meshing… When he really thought about it, he didn’t remember Haijima and Itoko having any interaction with each other, and since it was Haijima, he might not even recognize Itoko’s name.

“…By cousin, do you mean Yori-chan?”

Haijima frowned and tilted his head as though to say, What are you talking about?

Yorimichi, his cousin who was three years older than him (but third-rate) had left town in spring to go to university. Kuroba also had the feeling that he was let go because his relatives found him unmanageable.

“I have nothing to do with Yori-chan anymore. We haven’t even been in touch.”

“If that’s the case, then you wouldn’t be getting so worked up.”

“I’m not getting worked up about this…”

The light from the window that was shining in from the balcony was suddenly blocked. He shut his mouth with a start and jerked his neck around, and saw a long and skinny shadow crouched beside his futon, as though one of the creepy trees he had seen outside had snuck in.

“Aoki-senpa…i…”

Two long arms reached out and grabbed the two’s heads firmly. The two drew in their necks with an “Ugu” as their heads were lifted up like in a crane game. “Idiots…” they heard one of the second-years mutter with a mixture of exasperation and sympathy.  

“Since you two seem so eager to go running, I’ll grant your wish. Twenty hillside dashes.”

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[mrsalwayswrite]

Anchor in the Waves- Chapter 1

Summary: Finan is a slave, forced to row ceaselessly. Betrayed by those he trusted. He believes this will be the end of his life, salt water caking him and an shackle on his ankle. Yet Fate has other plans. When he arrives in Islond for the winter, he meets her. A kindred spirit. Soon they both realize how they need the other. Can they save one another? Or will the waves and whips tear them apart?

Guys! I’m so excited to share this. I’ve always been curious about Uhtred and Finan’s time as slaves and what they endured. So of course my mind decides to run with it. 

Note- in the beginning Finan knows Uhtred as Osbert so in the first two chapters, I use Osbert to identify him. Also- Islond=Iceland, Irland=Ireland

I have everything already written so as I finish editing it, I will post. There are four chapters total.

Warnings: There are mentions of beatings, starvation, inhumane conditions, slavery. Nothing graphic though. If you can watch TLK, you’ll be fine. 

Irish translations are via google. The translations are in italics. 

Tag list: @happyveday​ @evelynshelby​

  Days and nights blurred together, one morphing into the next. The only things he knew anymore was the constant taste of salt water, the shackle around his ankle and the unending pain in his body from rowing. 

 Always rowing. 

 Finan was unsure how long he had been a slave now. Was it a month? Maybe two? Even more? Time felt meaningless now. All he knew was when he had been sold, bound and blind-folded by those he once trusted, it had been late summer. Now the ship he found himself bound to, was making its final voyage to Islond. There it would reside until the harsh winter ended and the Nordsæ was safe once again. Or however safe the sea could be. 

 When his feet finally touched dry land, tears welled in his eyes. Never before did he believe the feeling of solid ground could be so comforting. Although he did not have long to enjoy the sensation. 

 "Move, slave!" The Dane called Hakka yelled, shoving him forward. 

 Weak from lack of food and constant rowing, he stumbled against the slave in front of him, both barely able to right themselves before sprawling onto the hard ground. 

 As he stood back up, he scanned around the small village quickly. It looked like the other slaves and himself were being marched towards the large, wooden barns. There were several other buildings about- a large hall, a few smaller cottages and some others that he was unable to guess their purpose from a glance. A few local men and women came out of the buildings, calling greetings to the Danes...to the slavers, while completely ignoring the weakened slaves being driven forward by beatings and sharp words. 

 Next to, what he guessed was the main hall, stood a young woman in a thin, dirty dress and barefoot. Her dark brown hair hung in a braid over her shoulder. A wooden bucket held in her hands. For the briefest of moments their gazes met…

 ...then he tripped, just catching himself in time. 

 "Keep moving, worthless dogs!" Hakka roughly shoved Finan this time, knocking him to the ground. "Get up, slave!"

 "Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú!" He yelled back. It was futile to fight back right now, he knew that. Maybe once he had the strength and stamina to fight the slaver without worry, but that was before he had been beaten, starved and forced to row without reprieve. It was foolish to fight back. Despite that, he was sick of being cowed constantly. For a brief moment he wanted to remember who he used to be. (May the Devil choke you!)

 That act of defiance earned him a single strike with the whip in punishment. His back burned, but he gritted his teeth and managed to push himself back on his feet to follow the other slaves. He refused to give that bastard the satisfaction of seeing him knocked down for long. 

 He and his fellow slaves were separated into small groups and distributed between the two barns. Moving slowly, he huddled against the wall, arms wrapped around his torso to preserve what warmth he could. There were gaps between the wooden slats of the walls. With nothing else to do, Finan watched those moving around the small village. The slavers, he recognized, headed straight for the main hall as soon as all the slaves were locked up in the barns. Most likely to drink and celebrate a successful voyage. 

 He hoped they choked on their ale. 

 As Finan watched, he noticed her again. It seemed she had been walking through the village, the bucket no longer in hand. As the slavers neared her on their way to the main hall, she stopped, hands clasped in front of her and face pointed down in submission. It caused him to wonder if she was a slave also. 

 There were no shackles on her, nothing to overtly demonstrate if she was a slave. Her dress was dirty and ragged, clearly something no one took pride in. Finan found himself eyeing her though. She was pretty, he could tell, even from afar. Although she appeared thin, as if meals were deemed optional for her. 

 The one who owned the slave ship, Master Sverri, stopped in front of her while the others continued by. He said something to her, causing her to shake her head. With a nod, his hand brushed her braid over her shoulder in an almost affection gesture before following the others to the main hall. 

 Once Master Sverri was out of sight, she shuddered and pulled her braid over her shoulder before continuing on her path. 

 Finan watched her until she vanished from view then closed his eyes, hoping blessed sleep would find him soon. 

 Or death. 

 *****

 Stupid. So stupid. If she got caught, a beating would surely follow. 

 Yet her feet kept moving. 

 Quietly, she crept along the line of buildings, staying in the shadows from the moon above. The Master and his wife retired to their room hours ago. The other Danes were either in their own homes or passed out drunk in the main hall. There should be no one outside. No one to witness her breaking a direct command. 

 She hoped. 

 The ship slaves had been separated into four groups, two groups to a barn. Last year the Master built specific pens to hold the slaves in, keeping only a maximum of five in a pen. In the prior years, the Master usually housed all the ship slaves together in one large pen. Though after the fire last year, he learned his lesson. 

 The barn containing the pigs and two of the groups was the more pitiful of the two barns. The other barn held a few horses the Master prized. Silently, she crept along the outer edge, keeping eyes and ears alert to any sounds. A couple times she froze at the sudden noise of shuffling or coughing, scared it was one of the Master's men out walking. Thankfully it was not. 

 Through the slats, she could see the shapes of the ship slaves inside one of the pens. Hopefully she found the right one. She thought she saw him being led here but it was only a glimpse she had been able to catch. If her attention was noticed lingering on him, questions would be asked by the Master's wife. 

 "Dia dhuit? An bhfuil tú anseo?" She whispered, praying silently in her head this was not a mistake. (Hello? Are you here?)

 There was no response besides another bout of coughing inside from the pen. It was impossible to see in the gloom on the barn, especially with the moon to her back. 

 "Dia dhuit? Éireannach?" She tried again, telling herself if he did not respond, she must leave. She could not afford to get caught here. Her death surely would follow because of what she clutched in her hand.  (Hello? Irishman?)

 Then a hoarse voice whispered back. "Sea?" A form shuffled over to where she crouched at the far corner.  (Yes?) 

 "Go tapa, tóg seo." She lowered her voice even more, barely above a whisper. She hoped the other ship slaves were sleeping or not paying attention. A sudden fear of being seen and caught threatened to suffocate her. Hurriedly, she slipped the hard biscuit through the gap in the slats into his hand. Soon as he caught it, she turned on her heel and dashed away, not waiting to hear his response. Her fear of being caught outweighed her need to hear gratitude. (Quick, take this.)

 Why she felt the compulsive need to share part of her dinner with the stranger, she honestly was unsure. When he had sworn earlier that day, shock had rooted her feet to the spot she stood. It had been over a year since she had heard her mother language. The sound brought a small hint of warmth to her soul, to hear the language she so desperately missed. Even if it was a curse thrown at the Danes that would make her mother blush. Perhaps this was her small way of thanking him for a reminder that Irland was still out there. Even if she had been stolen from it. 

 Now she had to return to her blanket on the floor and hope no one noticed her absence. 

 *****

 Not until several days later, did she manage to sneak out again. Winter's cold drew closer every day. Already a layer of frost coated the ground every morning. Snow would soon follow. 

 At the far corner of the barn, the forest behind her and the moon above, she crouched once again, voice barely above a whisper. "Éireannach?" (Irishman?)

 A form moved on the other side of the slats and his voice immediately whispered back, as if he had been waiting for her. "An Gaeilge thú?" (You are Irish?)

 "Sea. Seo." She passed him a strip of dried meat this time. (Yes. Here.)

 Before she could flee, he spoke again. "Cén chaoi a raibh a fhios agat gur Éireannach mé?" (How did you know I am Irish?)

 "Mhallaigh tú an lá a tháinig tú." (You cursed the day you arrived.)

 He softly chuckled at that, the sound pleasing to her. "Aye, ní mo nóiméad is fearr." (Not my finest moment.)

 A smile graced her face, surprising her. It felt so long since anything made her want to smile. Part of her wanted to linger, to hear him speak their native tongue and perhaps smile once more. For a short time, to pretend she was not a slave without a future. She enjoyed the sound of his voice, the beloved Irish accent and the strange underlying charm in it and his words. Yet she needed to get back though. She could not afford to get caught. "Tá orm imeacht." (I must go.)

 In the darkness, she crept back to the main hall. Surprising her was the small smile that remained on her lips as she moved in the shadows, due to the thought of him and his last statement. She found herself wanting to see him again. 

 Stupid. So stupid. 

 *****

 He swore she was an angel to bring him hope. 

 The cold seeped through the gaps in the slats, causing him to shiver all night. Most of the men stayed huddled together, to share what warmth they could, even if it was futile. Except he stayed in that far back corner of the small pen, where she would appear on the other side, cast in moonlight and with a gift for him. Only twice now she had come to him. The first time he was so shocked by her sudden appearance and the shoving food in his hand, his mind ignored her in order to devour the biscuit. He had not been fed properly in at least two days. This last time he tried to be more grateful and talk to her. Like a skittish deer sensing danger, she tore away sooner than he hoped. 

 "An bhfuil tú ann?" She softly asked, her form barely visible in the dark. (Are you there?) 

 Slowly, he turned his head and body, in a vain attempt to be closer to her but also to block the others from seeing their exchange. It was selfish but the pains in one's belly can drown out the sounds of one's morals. 

 "Aye."

 This time another hard biscuit landed in his hand but he did not complain. Food was food. Before she could disappear, he whispered a question, hoping she would stay just a few more moments. "Cad is ainm duit?" (What is your name?)

 She sharply inhaled, unmoving; but after a moment her dulcet voice came out in a rushed hush. "Aine."

 "Aine." He repeated her name, tasting it on his tongue like a fine ale. "Is mise Finan." (I am Finan.)

 "Finan, tá brón orm go bhfuil tú anseo." (Finan, I am sorry you are here.)

 Her comment surprised him but it was the sadness in her voice that made him take note. As if she knew something he was not privy to. He had not heard her wander off yet so he ventured another question. "An sclábhaí tú anseo?" (Are you a slave here?)

 He half expected her to run and never return, for how easily frightened she seemed. Then again, why should she waste her time with him? Coming out in the cold and darkness, risking herself to bring him food, it lacked sense. He watched her during the day, when she moved about the small village doing her chores, he assumed. There was not much else for him to do, except shiver and listen to his stomach complain. The other slaves barely spoke, all too focused on their own pain and cold. There was one Finan doubted would survive the winter. 

 A soft sigh from the other side of the slats told him she remained. "Ba bhronntanas mé ón Máistir Sverri dá bhean chéile." (I was a gift from Master Sverri to his wife.)

 "Tá brón orm." (I am sorry.)

 "Tá orm imeacht." (I must go.)

 "Fan!" Even to his own ears, he sounded desperate, it did not matter though. He wished there was a way to show her what her gifts of food and companionship meant to him. He could only guess she risked much to come to him like this. Yet he had nothing to offer, nothing to give besides his words, and even they he deemed meaningless yet still he gave them.  "Go raibh maith agat, Aine." (Wait! // Thank you, Aine.)

 "Slán." And with that, he could hear her nearly silent footsteps as she raced away from him. Back to the main hall, back to her own world which felt so far from his own. Even if it resided just across the village from him. (Goodbye.)

 Quickly, he ate the biscuit, licking his fingers once it was gone to prolong the stale taste. After, he slipped his arms inside of his tunic and hugged them close to his body. With no clear understanding of time besides the rising and setting of the sun, he wondered when spring would come. First, he had to survive winter. With no blankets or warm clothing and lacking proper nutrition, he worried he might not see spring. Even if Aine continued to visit him and lift his spirits for a minute with her kindness. It might not be enough. 

 The next day snow fell. 

 *****

 Months passed and the snow slowly began to melt. The sun once again brought warmth with it and the ground began to awaken from her deep slumber. 

 Master Sverri now prepared to sail the seas once again.

 He forced the ship slaves to go into the forest and fell trees for repairs needed on his ship. It was while the slaves were going to and from the forest that Aine was able to actually see Finan, more than just a voice and brief glimpses through the barn slats. His hair and beard unruly, his clothes stained and disgusting. Yet sometimes when their eyes met while in passing, there was a spark in them that reminded her...life still filled their lungs and coursed through their veins. In those quick looks, a silent message bonded them- no longer were they alone, they had a kindred spirit in one another. 

 She stood in the main hall, stoking the large fire in the center. After, she needed to go to the river and get water. The soup for tonight's dinner needed to be started. Gunnhild, Sverri's wife, helped prepare it. She was a strict woman, and if Aine was late to bring the water, the slave usually was forced to forgo her own dinner in punishment for making others wait. 

 "Girl, refill my cup." Master Sverri commanded, sitting at a long table. A piece of parchment in front of him, and a furrow between his brows as he stared at it. Occasionally, he would make marks on it or curse under breath. He had been sitting there for the past several minutes, slowly drinking his ale and staring at the parchment but had paid no mind to her as she completed chores. 

 Immediately, she rose from the side of the fire to grab the pitcher of ale from the kitchen and bring it back with her. Without a word, she poured the liquid, extra careful to not spill on the parchment. Even if she was not sure what it was for, it looked important. A harsh punishment would surely follow if she damaged it in any way. 

 It was when she was mid-pour that she felt his hand slip behind her to caress her waist and glide downward. 

 She stiffened but continued pouring, unable to escape his wandering hand. Over the past weeks his touches had become more common and bold. Nothing to cause her to fear him, he had never hit or beat her unlike his wife. Yet she knew what those touches meant, how his gaze slid over her body like oil sometimes. It had not gone unnoticed by her or others that if Master Sverri's men tried to touch her, he harshly rebuked them. 

 The door to the hall opened and in walked one of his men. 

 "What?" Master Sverri growled; his hand remained on her arse. 

 The man, Magnus, stepped closer. The dragon tattoo on his bald head always frightened her, but not as much as his leering gaze or hand quick to deliver slaps when the Master was not looking. "The ship slaves are returned for the day. After tomorrow we will have enough wood to repair the hull."

 "Good." When Magnus did not leave, Master Sverri raised his eyebrows then waved his hand to indicate his man should speak. 

 "The men grow bored. More slaves survived the winter than expected. Harald said we should let some fight. Make it a sacrifice for safe seas this year."

 "Mmm." Master Sverri removed his hand from Aine, using it to rub the side of his face where his tattoo was and down through his beard.  

 She took this as her cue to leave. Swiftly, she made her way back towards the kitchen, but not before leaving the jug of ale on the table so the Master would have no need for her to refill his cup. Just inside the door of the kitchen, she paused to listen to his answer. 

 "After supper tonight. Tell the slaves that the winner will be able to eat the leftovers from our supper. That will make them fight harder. Once the fight is over, we will sacrifice the winner. We can spare two slaves. It will be easy to get more from Yunis. That should bring enough entertainment for now."

 Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to alert the Master with how loud it was. All she could think of was Finan fighting in hopes of getting food then instead being killed, all because of others' boredom. 

 She must warn him. 

 Ignoring the others in the kitchen, she snatched her water bucket and dashed out. She hoped it only looked like she feared the wrath of Gunnhild and left to get water like every day. When in reality, she was terrified for her friend. 

 "Finan." She hissed harshly, kneeling at the back corner where they always met. The forms of the men in the pen could be seen so she knew he had to be in there. Her fear for his life outweighed her rationale to be discreet. The other slaves would certainly question why she was here and why Finan was so familiar with her. Truthfully, she feared one of them would inform the Danes about her visits in hopes of a reward. Yet her secret visits continued. Stupid. So stupid. 

 "Aine?" He whispered back, confusion evident. 

 "Tá troid le bheith ann anocht i measc beirt de na sclábhaithe long. Déarfaidh siad go bhfaigheann an buaiteoir ithe. Ná iarr troid. Gheobhaidh an bheirt bás. Íobairtfear an buaiteoir. Le do thoil, Finan. Geall nach dtroidfidh tú." (There is to be a fight tonight amongst two of the ship slaves. They will say the winner gets to eat. Do not ask to fight. Both will die. The winner will be sacrificed. Please, Finan. Promise you will not fight.)

 His hand reached through the small hole he had made under the slats, gripping hers tightly. "Geallaim, Aine." (I promise, Aine.)

 "Go raibh maith agat. Tiocfaidh mé anocht." (Thank you. I will come tonight.)

 With that she released his hand and ran towards the river. In one hand she held the handle for the empty bucket. The other one, the one Finan had held, she fisted against her chest, trying desperately to retain the warmth of his touch just a little longer. Even if it was only in her mind.

 He had surprised her by knocking away a rotten part of one of the slats, creating a hole just big enough to slip his hand out of but small enough to not get noticed and need to be fixed. It had made passing the food through easier- what she thought the purpose of the hole was for. 

 Yet that quickly became a secondary notion. 

 Something shifted between them the first time he grabbed her hand, grasping it gently, as he peered at her as best as he could through the slats where he sat. She had been startled but not frightened. He never once gave her meaning to be frightened of him. If anything, he became a pillar of strength for her. His hand had been shaking slightly from the cold. Without a conscious thought, she cupped his hand between her own and rubbed them together, trying to warm it up even a little. He had teased that there was no need for a fire when a beautiful woman was there to keep him warm. 

 She snorted and told him to shut his mouth, trying to deflect his teasing. The blush heating her cheeks told the real story of how his words affected her. 

 Every time after, when she managed to sneak away and bring him food, they held one another's hand while they talked. It was only a few minutes, she feared staying longer and being caught, but she found herself looking forward to it….and missing his touch throughout the day. 

 Spring was coming though. Soon Master Sverri would leave and the ship slaves with him. Many of those slaves never returned. 

 Was it selfish of her to hope Finan survived? That she might see him once again, even with the torment he would undeniably endure. Was it selfish?

 *****

 She clutched his hand tightly between her own, as if that alone would save them. For a long time neither spoke. Words not enough. They held onto each other, a physical representation of the anchor they provided for one another these past months. 

 Tomorrow he would board the ship and sail away. She doubted she would ever see him again. 

 "Aine." He breathed out her name, an almost sweet caress in how he said it. "Tú ... tá tú láidir. Mairfidh tú seo." (You...you are strong. You will survive this.)

 Tears slipped down her cheeks but she refused to let go of his hand to wipe them away. Instead she pressed her forehead against the slats. If anyone saw her, it would look like she was praying, hands before her, head bowed while on her knees. Yet none of her prayers had been answered for years, so she no longer uttered them. 

 An almost indistinguishable pressure alerted her that he had pressed his forehead to hers. Something they had never done before. It felt strangely intimate, even though the slats separated them. If she opened her eyes, she could almost see their frosted breaths interweaving, blending into the air around them as one. 

 "Tá mé ag dul a chailleann tú." She finally murmured, fear making her voice hitch. (I am going to miss you.)

 "Agus mise tú." (And I you.)

 She needed to walk away, the longer she stayed the more likely she was to get caught. Yet she could not pull herself away. Not now. Not on the eve of their lives being torn from one another. 

 "Ná bíodh imní ort faoi mo chinniúint. Is é toil Dé anois é. Dírigh ort féin." (Do not worry about my fate. Its God's will now. Focus on yourself.)

 "Is fear maith thú, Finan. Tá mé ... tá áthas orm aithne a chur ort." (You are a good man, Finan. I am... I am glad to know you.)

 A sound between a chuckle and a sob passed his lips. He inhaled a harsh breath before whispering. "Is dóigh liom go bhfuil easpa ionchais ar fhir. B’fhéidir go gcaithfí é sin a leigheas." (I feel your expectations of men are lacking. Might need to remedy that.)

 She gave a quiet laugh but said no more. 

 They stayed that way for another few minutes, sharing what strength they had between them. For when the sun rose, both of them would no longer feel whole. The whips and the waves to tear them apart. 

 "Tá rud éigin agam duit." She claimed one of her hands to pull some strips of fabric under her breast-band, where she had stuffed them earlier. She placed them in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. "Tá sé do so lámha. Déan iad a fhilleadh timpeall do phalms. B’fhéidir go gcabhróidh sé beagáinín le…" She trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to think about or remind him of what was to come. (I have something for you. // It's for your hands. Wrap them round your palms. It might help a little with…)

 "Go raibh maith agat, Aine, go fírinneach." (Thank you, Aine, truly.)

 "Slán, Finan." (Good bye, Finan.)

 "Slán, a stòr." (Good bye, my treasure)

 With one final squeeze of their hands, she rose and walked away. Finally, she wiped the tears from her face, only for them to be replaced by fresh ones. 

 The night and future had never seemed so dark before.

  *****

 Finan leaned back against the side of the ship, watching the man who sat in front of him comfort his friend. He could see Osbert whispering something to Halig, trying to calm him down, to not draw further attention to himself. His wailing for land had drawn notice and would have been his cause for a whipping if Osbert had not covered him with his own body. 

 There was something, a secret they kept close to their chests. Halig, though, his strength was failing, both strength of mind and body. He was lucky though, Osbert was always there to encourage him. 

 Looking away from them, his thumbs gently rubbed against the cloth protecting the palms of his hands. If he closed his eyes, he could almost remember her in the moonlight, her hands holding his own, silent tears running down her cheeks. 

 What she would never know was after she left, he had to stick his fist against his mouth to muffle his own sobs. 

 He had sworn earlier that day to Osbert that he would kill the slaver Hakka for he was a right bastard that enjoyed inflicting torment. In his own mind, he also made a promise to himself. If he managed to get free, he would save her. Somehow, he would rescue her from her own captivity. 

 He glanced over as Osbert leaned back against the side of the ship, eyes closed, bottom lip trembling. Silently, he reached over and placed a hand on Osbert's shoulder for a long second before retracting it. 

 Osbert had spoken of escape often, under the cover of darkness and the stars above. Once they returned to Islond, there had to be a way he insisted. Finan was unsure but the raging fire that burned in Osbert's blue eyes was enough for him to quickly agree. If there was anyone bound to figure out a way, it was this man. 

 "Back to work, slaves!" Hakka screamed, readying his whip for any man that did not move fast enough. "Pull! Pull!" 

 Finan closed his eyes for a brief moment as he placed his hands back on the oar. This would not be his fate. 

 This would not be his end.

 Or hers.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 4

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Sorry about last chapter’s tag list! It seems like only half of you got notified, so, if you did not read Part 3 (it was posted Sunday), go back and read that one first, and apologies for my lack of Tumblr tech skills. I think it is fixed. FINGERS CROSSED. Okay, onward. 

Aelin sips her coffee and silences her phone as it buzzes continually on the kitchen table. It’s been going off for the last two days with texts from Dorian. She lied and told him she wasn’t feeling well to give herself some space. But she knows she can only fend him off for maybe one more day or so.

Park today?

His latest text reads. It’s not that she doesn’t want to spend time with Dorian. She does. She really does. But, she’s just not feeling up to going to the park yet. She knows he’ll want to spend all day there, and she’s feeling less than enthused about that. And she’s sure that has absolutely nothing to do with a tall silver-haired employee she spent the better part of Monday avoiding. Nope. Nothing at all.  She replies quickly.

Still sick. In bed with a fever :(

“Liar!” Dorian calls, rounding the corner to the kitchen.

Aelin grumbles as she takes a large bite of her toaster waffle. “How’d you get in here?”

Dorian slides into the kitchen chair next to her and lays his head down on the table, looking up at her with the saddest, biggest puppy dog eyes he can manage, and innocently holds up the small gold key that usually resides under the flowerpot next to the front door. Aelin grabs it back and lays her head on the table next to him. They stare at each other, their faces a few inches apart, Dorian’s eyes wide with wondering at Aelin’s frowning.

Dorian smirks and brings his hand up to boop her nose softly. Aelin scrunches her nose, but she can’t help but crack the smallest of smiles at her best friend’s efforts.

“You’ve been in a mood since Monday. What’s the deal?” he asks. “It wouldn’t happen to have to do with the red lipstick fiasco? Don’t think I didn’t notice you went back upstairs to put it on.”

“No,” Aelin scoffs, her false bravado kicking in as she pushes herself upright. “Of course not. I just remembered I had a matte stay all day lipstick, and it went better with my outfit.”

Dorian lifts himself up and stares at Aelin, his brow furrowing as he goads her, “So not wanting to go to the park has absolutely nothing to do with the hot hot silver-haired staff member you were making eyes at all day?” Dorian sighs. “Come on, Aelin. Tell meee,” he pleads. “I already know.”

Aelin flips her hair over her shoulder as she places her mug into the sink. “I’m sorry, Dor.”

“You’re the one who’s going to be sorry,” he says. “Because if we’re not going to the park, I’m going to need full details on your hot piece. And the side dish he brought with him.”

It suddenly clicks for Dorian. “Ohhhh, you’re disappointed he brought a date?” Dorian smirks. “Aelin. Not everyone can be single at your behest.”

She crosses her arms, annoyed. This is why she wanted one more day to herself. She didn’t want to talk about Rowan and his stupid rude girlfriend with her dark hipster makeup and beautifully inked skin and brightly dyed hair. If that was Rowan’s type, she had no shot of getting his attention. Not that she hadn’t tried. With the white bathing suit, and playing rough with the boys in the deep end and overzealously clinging onto Dorian’s back. Still, he hadn’t said a damn thing to her until the party ended, and only by accident.

“No,” Aelin lies. Dorian looks at her, unblinking. “Stop that.”

“You can’t let one little staff member prevent you from going to the park. It’s Ashryver Playland, and you’re Aelin fucking Ashryer. It’s your park. Let’s go reclaim our stomping grounds. Please?” he begs again, his sapphire eyes looking up at her through his thick fringe of lashes. “I promise I’ll shield you if we see him.”

“Fine.”

Dorian’s blinding smile is almost worth it. She tells him she’ll be right back and runs upstairs to get dressed for the day. She might put a little more effort into it than she would for just Dorian, but there’s no harm in looking cute. She braids her hair into two French braids and wiggles into a hot pink crop top and her overall shorts. She dons a full face of makeup, finishing with a pink lipstick, and finally makes her way down to where an impatient Dorian is waiting.

He holds out his arm for her, smartly not commenting on her outfit, and Aelin slips her arm through, linking them together for the fifteen minute walk down the beach to the Playland.

They’re greeted at the ticket booth by Fenrys, who is working behind the counter. He blushes upon seeing the approaching pair, and it makes Aelin smile. He hasn’t been quiet about his crush on both her and Dorian, which she thinks they would both be all over if he weren’t four years their junior. He’s shockingly good-looking with deep tanned skin and shoulder-length golden hair. He flashes them a toothy smile and Aelin can’t help but grin back, her mood lightening.

“Ah, the king and queen of Playland.” He pulls out unlimited wristbands for them. “Happy Summer.”

“Hey, handsome, happy summer,” Aelin says with a wink as he tapes on her wristband.

“Aelin, when are you going to let me take you out and make me the happiest man in Terrasen?” Fenrys asks, and Dorian snorts.

“Man? You’re not even old enough to grow facial hair,” Dorian teases, rubbing his thumb against Fenry’s bare cheek. It blooms with a rare blush under Dorian’s touch.

“I just turned twenty-one, so, who knows? Maybe this year is the year,” Fenrys says as he puffs out his chest. He bursts into laughter. “Yeah, yeah. I know you’d never date a staff member anyway. No shitting where you eat and all that.”

“Sure,” Dorian smirks. “That’s the reason.”

Aelin grabs at Dorian’s hand, pulling him away and waves goodbye to Fenrys, ready for the day.  Aelin leans her head on her friend’s shoulder, her heart feeling ten times lighter. She’s buoyant, actually. She skips into the park, pulling Dorian along as she makes her way toward their first ride.

They make their way toward the biggest ride in the park – the Firecoaster, a rickety wooden rollercoaster built nearly a century ago. It’s Aelin’s absolute favorite ride in the park, so they do it first every single time, despite Dorian’s constant criticism of it (it’s too shaky, it’s too old, why haven’t they replaced the cars in a literal hundred years?).

But as they arrive at the ride she sees a short crop of silver hair at the entrance, letting people onto the coaster. Naturally.

“Maybe we should come back to the coaster later,” Aelin suggests, and Dorian’s eyebrow lifts in question.

“You know I won’t go on this ride in the dark,” Dorian replies, and Aelin nods. She really wants to go on this coaster. But with Rowan letting people on, there’s absolutely no way to avoid him.  “Is he up there?” Dorian whispers and tugs at one of Aelin’s pigtails.

Aelin doesn’t answer, still unsure of how she’s going to handle the whole situation. Dorian grabs her hand and pulls her into the line. With people piling in behind them, they’re immediately stuck.

“What the hell?” Aelin hisses, but Dorian simply shrugs.

“You’re taking back your ground!” he says exuberantly.

Aelin knows he’s right, but her stomach still feels like she ate a box of rocks with how heavy it is suddenly. She watches intently as Rowan performs his job, dutifully ushering everyone into the wooden coaster cars and making sure they’re safely secured before they take off. He’s not particularly friendly, Aelin notices. He's not the kind of staff member who smiles at each person with a customer service grin, but she does take note that at he makes sure to help the smaller kids in and out with one of his steadying hands.

The line moves far too quickly, and within minutes they’re at the top of the line. Aelin knows she should look away, but as she makes her way onto the platform, she keeps her eyes trained on Rowan. When he finally turns and meets her gaze, his dark green eyes widen slightly with surprise. Aelin swallows, her mouth suddenly feeling completely parched as they share a charged, wordless stare.

It’s interrupted by the last coaster coming to a stop suddenly on the tracks before them, and Rowan scrambles to attention to help the group exit the car. Dorian pushes Aelin into the first row of the empty car, and she stumbles forward, throwing her best friend a dirty glare.

Aelin straps herself into the cart, pulling the seatbelt across her lap and clicking it securely in place.

“Everyone, hands up,” Rowan says, and he starts from the back of the car, tugging at the seatbelts to ensure the passengers’ safety.  

By the time Rowan reaches the front row, Aelin’s heart is pounding in her chest, and it has absolutely nothing to do with her excitement to ride the rollercoaster.

Rowan squats down and leans his torso across Aelin, his arm lightly brushing against the front of her overalls as he reaches over her to tug on Dorian’s seatbelt. Satisfied that it’s in place, Rowan pulls back slightly, his brows furrowed and his lips twisted into a thin straight line. His head is so close to hers, she can feel his breath fan across her neck as he exhales. Despite the hot sun overhead, goosebumps break out across her arms. What the hell?

“Hey, you’re Rowan, right?” Dorian pipes up, and Aelin sends him a murderous glare as the silver-haired man looks up with a suspicious frown on his face.

“Uh, yeah. I am,” Rowan says, turning his attention to Aelin’s lap.

“Aelin’s told me so much about you,” Dorian continues, ignoring his best friend’s death stare. “Maybe we could all go out soon? Since we didn’t get to meet at the party.”

Rowan looks perplexed as he adjusts his position again to check Aelin’s seatbelt. “Um, maybe? I’m kinda busy… with work.”

Aelin is going to kill Dorian. She shifts in her seat to question him, right as Rowan reaches down to tug at her seatbelt, and she accidentally throws him off balance. Rowan falls forward a tiny bit and his hand darts out to brace himself. It comes to rest on Aelin’s knee, the rough pads of his fingers clutching against her bare skin, and if Aelin weren’t restrained, she thinks she may have jumped out of the car in shock.  

“Sorry!” Rowan apologizes, snatching his hand back in pain, as if she were on fire and he’d just burned himself.

“It’s fine,” Aelin says, her voice sounding breathy to her own ears. She’s positive she’s blushing all the way down to her chest, but she refuses to look.

“Sorry,” he says again, his voice filled with apology.

She’s about to reassure him again, but he’s already walking back to the controls. Aelin looks over her shoulder to get one more look at the man who literally took her breath away with a single touch, but she can’t think about it for long.

Because soon she’s flying forward. The wind rushes across Aelin’s face, swirling around her with each twist and turn of the coaster. Laughter bubbles up from her chest, and she squeals loudly as they hit the first drop. She closes her eyes and lets the ride take her up, up and away, making her heart race.

Just as quickly as it took off does it come to a halt. Aelin unclips herself quickly and runs as fast as she can on her unsteady legs, away from Rowan’s prying gaze. As soon as she’s far enough away from the ride, she whirls around and socks Dorian in the arm. Hard.

“OW!” He clutches at his shoulder.

“Maybe we could all go out soon?” Aelin parrots his words back at him. “What the fuck, Dor?! What happened to being my shield?”

Dorian rubs his arm, slowly stoking the pain out of his dead arm. “I was doing recon. Notice he didn’t say he had a girlfriend.”

“I hate you,” Aelin says, going to punch his other arm, and Dorian runs, cowering from her absurd superhuman ability to find the most painful spot to punch.

“You love me!” he shouts as he sprints toward the log flume.

The pair chase each other from ride to ride, making the most of their day in the park. Aelin only spots Rowan once more, after his shift change, taking tickets at the Skyflyer – a ride she and Dorian have sworn never to go back on after they both tried it in high school and puked their guts out afterwards. So, conveniently, she doesn’t have to deal with that whole situation again. Which is good, because it’s starting to stress Aelin out. She’s never this strung out about a guy. Ever. Especially one that isn’t single and is definitely uninterested.

By the time the sun is setting, Aelin is more than ready to go home. She could use a long soak in the bath and a good night’s sleep. But Dorian insists on one more ride. Aelin agrees, but only if Dorian promises to buy her fried dough with Nutella on it for dessert after.

Dorian’s smile lights up his face as he pulls her towards the bumper cars. Aelin might have a little too much fun crashing into his car over and over again.

With a scoop of Nutella in her mouth, Aelin sees a shock of silver hair, finally coming in for the end of his day. She watches as he crosses the field and makes his way into the employee break room, her eyes following the motion of his lithe body. God, now that she knows what he looks like without a shirt on, she can’t stop imagining the way his tattoo crept up his taut abs, over his wide shoulders, and trailing down the side of his muscular back. It’s not fair. Why did he have to be in a relationship already? She licks her lips, tasting the warm chocolatey hazelnut spread and hums in pleasure as she imagines licking it off other places…

“Elide!” Dorian shouts, calling over their friend and breaking Aelin out of her hormone-induced trance. Elide runs over with a smile on her face for the pair.

“I’m sorry I barely saw you both at the party,” Elide apologizes immediately, but Aelin and Dorian wave her off.

“You were celebrating. With Lorcan, right? Please say yes,” Aelin says with a cheerful smile and offers a bite of her dough to Elide.

“I actually spent most of the time with a friend of mine I hadn’t seen in a few years,” Elide admits as she takes the piece from Aelin. “She used to be my RA. She’s the best. I hope you met her.”

“Really?” Dorian asks. “That’s so much fun. Who?”

“Manon Blackbeak?” Elide continues, oblivious to Aelin stiffening next to her at the table. “She came with a new guy, Rowan. She’s his roommate. Isn’t that such a crazy coincidence?” Elide rambles.

Dorian looks to Aelin and mouths “roommates” with a smirk.

“Roommates?” Aelin asks, her voice tight. “Is that all they are? Because I got kind of a datey vibe from them.” Aelin tries to keep her face impassive, but can’t when Dorian snorts at her. Aelin has forgone subtlety today, apparently.

“No, that’s impossible,” Elide says resolutely with a shake of her head.

“Because roommates have never gotten together before?” Aelin asks, her voice haughty with ridicule.

“No. Because they both like women,” Elide says with a laugh. “Or at least Manon does.”

Dorian bites his lip and looks at Aelin. His eyes frantically connect with hers before looking back at Elide, who is completely unaware of the bomb she’s just dropped.

“Is that so?” Dorian asks, and Elide nods.

“Oh yeah. Manon is a gold star and proud of it.” Elide looks at her watch. “Shit, I have to clock out. But I want to catch up with both of you later, okay? Find me next time you’re in the park?”

“Yuppp,” Aelin drawls. “Bye, babe!” Aelin waves as Dorian practically drags Aelin out to the parking lot, his torso doubled over in laugher.

Aelin frowns. “It’s not that funny.”

“It’s hilarious,” he says, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Here you were all worked up about your prince Charming having a girlfriend and she’s gay. What gave you the impression they were dating?”

“I don’t know. He brought a hot blonde to my house?” Aelin sighs. Rowan did introduce Manon as his friend. “Oh my god, I get it,” she squeaks.

“What?”

“She said this thing about keeping two of her nails short, and… I’m am so stupid.”

Dorian laughs at her, hard, and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “So, what now? Want help reeling in your man?”

Aelin smiles as she sees Rowan climbing into a beat up truck halfway down the parking lot.  “No,” Aelin shakes her head as she links arms with Dorian again. “I think I’ve got it.”

~*~*~*~*~

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[omgjasminesimone]

The Reunion

Edward x MC (Peyton)

A/N: follow up to this ficlet

Final follow up here

Edward wakes well before the sun. It’s hard to sleep when he feels such giddy excitement due to his imminent reunion with Peyton. After four long years, she’s finally back in his time. He has no idea how long it will last, but he plans to savor every moment.

A contact in the Phillipines had sent word to him via carrier pigeon. A woman claiming to be from the future was looking for him.

He and the crew had been in Indonesia at the time, with plans to make a lucrative delivery in Japan, but Edward immediately ordered a change of course to make his way to his beloved. His crew was very understanding. After all, they all love Peyton almost as much as he does.

When the sun starts to rise, increasing visibility, Edward makes his way up to the crow’s nest. He can just barely spot land coming into view on the horizon. “I am coming, Peyton.” He vows quietly, gripping the weathered wood under his palms.

“Papa! Is that the Philippines?” Francis asks, clamoring the last of the rope ladder to join his father in the crow’s nest.

Edward smiles fondly as Francis grins at the land in the distance. He has his mother’s smile. Edward briefly flashes back to the night when he started to fall in love with Peyton, atop the crow’s nest of Poseidon’s Revenge. It feels like a lifetime ago. But he still loves her, and will continue to do so until the end of time.

“Aye, it is. You’ll be seeing your mother very soon.” Edward promises, and Francis’ grin widens.

“I can not wait to show her what I can do with a sword now!” Francis exclaims. Edward recently started teaching him.

He ruffles his son’s hair fondly, and they both look out to the horizon.

....

Peyton waits on the beach, head resting on her tucked knees. Madame Sanchez’ carrier pigeon returned with word from Edward that he was on his way almost a week ago, so he should be arriving any day now.

She’d asked the year when she stumbled into town after waking up on the beach when the compass brought her back after months in the future. She was distraught to discover she’s been gone for four whole years in this timeline.

She can’t imagine how painful that must have been for Edward, and for Francis. She’s starting to think this coming and going might be harder for them than if she were to just stay gone.

So that’s her plan. To properly say goodbye this time, and then set them free. Her heart clenches painfully at the very thought, but she has to. She can’t keep hurting them, not to mention herself.

A ship appears in the distance. She squints, and makes out two fuzzy figures in the crow’s nest. She stands, making her way towards the water to get a little closer. Can it be?

By the time the ship drops anchor just offshore, she’s sure. It’s him. He’s found her, again. Like he always promised he would, until the end of time.

Edward and Francis start rowing out to her in a small row boat. Edward is making quick progress, but Peyton can’t wait another moment. She kicks off her shoes, starting to swim out to them.

Edward grasps her arms to pull her in when they meet in the middle, and she collapses on top of him, soaking him. But he doesn’t look at all upset as he smooths her hair back from her face. “God, I have missed you Peyton.”

Instead of telling him how much she missed him in words, she lets her actions speak for themselves, burying her hands into his hair and kissing him with ardor built up over all the time apart.

She manages to pull herself away after a few long moments, smiling as she presses one last chaste kiss to his lips. She turns to Francis, opening her arms for a hug.

The boy grins, launching himself into her familiar arms. He sighs contently as she buries her face in his hair, absentmindedly rubbing up and down his back. His clothes are soaked now as well, but he’s nonplussed. All that matters is that he’s back in the familiar warmth of his mother’s arms.

She pulls away a little, cupping his face so she can get a good look at him. “I can’t believe how big you are! You’re like a little man now!”

Francis grins. “I have a sword now mama!” He excitedly informs her.

Peyton grins back, tears that are both happy and sad welling in her eyes. “You’ll have to show me what you can do when we get back to the ship.”

She repositions herself to face Edward, Francis still in her arms resting against her as Edward rows them back to the ship.

“Four whole years....” she says despondently, suddenly remembering her vow to free them from the agony of constantly waiting for her.

“It matters not. You are here now, Peyton. I would have waited forever.” Edward assures. He looks at her so lovingly that she knows she’s not going to be able to follow through on her plan to stay away. She loves them, desperately, fate and the universe be damned.

She presses a kiss to the top of Francis’ head, reaching out to rest her left hand on Edward’s knee as he rows. Her simple golden wedding band that matches his, which she wears even in the future, glistens in the sun.

[maroonmorons]

Not sure if this is fluffy enough but: the team being on a call/hanging out together & buck (accidentally/on purpose) getting punched in the face. He gets a nose bleed/ busted lip & everyone is like super worried cuz blood thinners, especially eddie who coddles him a lot, & buck pretends to be a bit miffed at first, like guys i'm fine!!, but he's actually super happy & feeling loved cuz his family still loves him even after all that shit went down. HE'S A CINNAMON ROLL THAT DESERVES ALL THE LOVE

sorry if my heart a little slow [buck/eddie, T, 1.8k]

The thing is – once they’ve had decent calls for severalshifts in a row Buck forgets how quickly a call can go bad.

They didn’t even have to lose someone on the call for it togo bad.

No, instead the call just had to start moving too quicklyfor them to be able to keep up with it.

Tonight it’s a four car pile up thanks to a drunk driverswerving into oncoming traffic. Luckily no one is DOA on the scene. Theambulance has already left with the mother and son who were in the first carstruck.

That leaves their crew to deal with everyone else, includingthe drunk driver.

Buck thought the drunk driver was secure – well the trick tothat was that the drunk driver had been secure. Until the assholeregained consciousness.

He was belligerent immediately, shoving Madison off andtrying to climb to his feet.

Eddie and Buck look over in the same second but Eddie getsthe jump, roughly two feet closer than Buck is.

Trying to stuff his concern down somewhere below his gut,Buck turns back to the middle aged man he’s treating. He applies anotherbutterfly bandage to the man’s split brow.

Behind him he hears a solid blow and then a body falling tothe ground.

Madison screams and Buck can feel it happening.

Like a projector just getting warmed up - click, click,clickclickclick; the call starts moving too fast.

By the time he’s whipped his head around Eddie’s on theground, one hand on his jaw.

The drunk absolutely looms over him, looking eight feet tallin Buck’s eyes.  

Buck might as well be in quicksand.

He remembers enough to look back to the man he’s treating.

           “I’m gonna-”

The man waves him off immediately. There’s a deep frown onhis face but Buck knows it’s not directed at him or any of their crew.

Buck shoves back to his feet, glad to see Eddie’s regainedhis feet as well.

Still, it’s one of those nightmares Buck has routinely. He’smoving but not fast enough. He can’t move nearly fast enough to keep up withthis call.

The drunk swings again and Eddie ducks, leaning down tothrow his arms around the guy’s middle and try to take him to the ground.

Sadly, the key word there is try.

Buck knows Eddie can handle himself. The man was street fightingin his free time for fuck’s sakes.

This dude however is tall and truly thick all the way downhis body. He’s got to be over six feet and at least three hundred pounds.

The alcohol his parietal lobe is currently soaking inprobably doesn’t hurt his chances in a fight either.

Buck finally gets over to them, bless his long legs, and launcheshimself at the guy too.

The drunk just grunts in response; he feels as movable as abrick wall.

           “Can one ofthe cops get over here,” Eddie grunts, the toes of his boots still digging intothe asphalt. “Maybe with a taser?”

           “I-I’m on it,”Madison manages.

Buck stands, rearranging himself. Maybe attacking the centerof gravity is the problem. He wraps his left arm over the drunk’s shoulder,bringing his forearms together behind the broad back to get a good grip. With agrunt of his own, Buck shoves his shoulder into the drunk and tries to topplehim.

After a moment the drunk wavers and Buck redoubles hisefforts, adrenaline pumping steadily through his heart.

But instead of falling back, the drunk just tilts over tothe side. He brings up the arm Buck isn’t wrapped around to shove at Buck.

It barely takes fifteen seconds for the guy to successfullydislodge Buck and send him stumbling off the edge of the road.

Buck’s not exactly angry, nor is he exactly embarrassed.

He catches himself in the dusty silt and turns on one heel.

Unfortunately, he’s in such a rush to get back to help Eddiehe doesn’t think about the fact that he had stumbled off the road.

The toe of his right boot catches on the edge of the asphalt.He’s got too much momentum built up already – or maybe it’s the fact that hisleft leg is just that much slower than the rest of him – but in any case hefalls face first onto the road.

It happens too quickly for him to even put out his arms. Ifhe’d been watching it happen Buck might have even laughed.

But his face catches most of his fall, first his nose andthen his chin.

           “Buck!”Bobby yells.

I’m fine, Buck wants to say. He tries to push himselfup, unsurprised to feel hands on his shoulders already helping him.

           “¡Dios mío!Are you alright, Buck?” Eddie demands.

           “I’m fine,”Buck does say then. “Where’s the drunk? Is he down?”

           “The copsare taking care of him,” Eddie says. He clicks his tongue in disapproval as heturns Buck’s face carefully from side to side.

Buck realizes his face is wet then.

           “Is itbroken?”

           “Might be,”Eddie says tightly. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

Bobby and Madison are already crowding close enough to brushagainst Buck’s shoulders on either side of Eddie.

           “Are youokay, Buck? I’m so sorry I didn’t have the guy.”

           “Madison,what? No one could have had that guy, it’s not your fault.”

           “It’s noone’s fault,” Bobby agrees. “We’re just lucky the cops were here with theirtasers. The 121 is arriving on scene. Madison, let’s go help them. Eddie, areyou good to get Buck cleaned up?”

           “I’ve gothim,” Eddie confirms.

           “I’m okay,”Buck protests. “Eddie’s the one that got punched in the face.”

           “Eddie’snot the one on blood thinners.”

Damn blood thinners.

…

Peculiarly, things only seem to get worse once they get backto the station.

Hen all but runs to Buck’s side.

           “Buckaroo!Are you okay?” She’s already reaching up gently to tilt his face into betterlight. “Are you sure you don’t need the hospital?”

           “Hen, I’mokay, I promise. My nose isn’t even broken. Everything stopped bleeding andEddie bandaged my jaw up. It’s not even going to scar. Probably.”

Chim’s joined them by then, squeezing Buck’s shoulder firmly.

           “Our residentdaredevil,” he says. There’s a certain amount of fondness in his tone and itmakes Buck feel like blushing. “Are you okay though?”

           “Guys, I’mfine.”

           “You’re notjust saying that?” Hen double checks. “You know you’re not gonna get benchedjust for a minor injury right?”

           “We justwant you to be okay,” Chim agrees immediately.

           “I promiseI’m okay,” Buck reaffirms.

He feels like one of those little baby dolls with a stringin its back – just repeating the same thing over and over again.

“Eddie’s the one that got punched in the face,” he adds. “AndCap cleared me. I’m all good.”

           “Eddie’sfine,” Hen dismisses, even rolling her eyes.

           “Dude wasstreet fighting for fun,” Chim reminds Buck.

           “C’monguys,” Buck whines, “I’m alright.”

           “Good,” Hensays with a decisive nod.

           “Is dinneralmost ready?” Chim questions as he starts toward the stairs. “I’m starving.”

Hen makes no move to join him.

           “I’ll meetyou guys up there,” Buck tells her gently. “Gotta finish up down here.”

But Hen just shakes her head.

           “I’ll doit. Go help set the table – or just sit down. You can’t hold the whole world onyour shoulders, Buck. Honestly.”

           “But I’m-”

           “I know youare.”

           “C’mon Hen.”Buck whines quietly. “I don’t want you guys thinking I’m weak.”

           “No one herethinks you’re weak, Evan. We just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

Hen’s eyes are impossibly warm as she looks directly intohis and Buck feels about four feet tall under the weight of her words.

Seemingly unaware of his internal conflict, she continues.

“Because we love you.”

It’s not as if Buck doesn’t know that. He does.

Still, he feels shaken to hear Hen say it directly to him.

His stubbornness abandons him like the tide going out andBuck manages a tiny smile.

           “Okay,” heagrees on a whisper. “I love you too.”

Hen hugs him again before giving him a gentle push backtoward the stairs.

…

While Buck had been allowed to help set the table he’sforbidden from cooking or from helping clean up.

Instead, he’s settled (forcibly) on one of the sofas withEddie.

Eddie even slings both socked feet into Buck’s lap as if tokeep him from getting up any time soon.

His jaw is already starting to bruise but he doesn’t seemconcerned over it and neither does anyone else in the station.

           “How’s yourjaw?” Buck questions.

           “How’s yourjaw?”

           “I’m fine,”Buck stresses. “F, I, N, E – fine.”

           “Well, I’vebeen hit harder. I’m fine too.”

           “Don’tremind me,” Buck grumbles.

After a moment of tense silence, he forces himself to lookon the bright side.

“At least my nose isn’t broken. I don’t think my Owen Wilsonimpression is any good.”

Eddie arches a dark eyebrow.

           “Why wouldyou need to do an Owen Wilson impression?”

           “How elseam I gonna find someone to marry me with a fucked up face?”

Eddie huffs.

           “Shut up,Buck.”

Buck pouts.

           “What? Peopleare fine with hooking up with me but it’s not like anyone wants more. I can’tget any uglier Eddie, I’ll die with twenty four cats.”

           “Anyuglier?” Eddie demands, his voice growing much louder than the conversation warrants.“What are you talking about, Buck? You’re at least a ten. At least.”

           “Okay,first of all – you have to say that because you’re my best friend. Secondly, Idon’t know if the opinion of a straight man is worth that much to my ego; even thoughI appreciate it. Thirdly, once I’m old and retired you’re gonna have to call meevery two days to make sure the cats aren’t eating my eyeballs.”

Eddie’s mouth moves with no sound coming out for several seconds.

           “I probablyshouldn’t say that because you’re my best friend,” he finally settles on. “AndI’m not straight.”

He frowns then, as if deciding whether or not to tackle theeyeball statement.

Buck takes pity on him.

           “They’d bestarving, Eddie. Everyone knows they eat the eyeballs first because they’reeasy to get to and squishy or whatever. It wouldn’t be their fault. But, I wantan open casket so you need to make sure they aren’t chowing down, alright?”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes andmuttering under his breath in Spanish.

           “Why don’twe just get married in ten years if we’re both still single?” he asks after blowingout a large breath.

           “Well,sure, but there’s no way you’re still gonna be single in ten-” Buck cutsoff, blinking twice. “You’re not straight?”

Eddie pulls the throw pillow out from behind his back andpulls it over his face with both hands.

“Eddie, you’re not straight?!”