#and why the birds chirp and why desserts smell good

[amateursatelier]

❛❛A NEW LOVE BEGINS.❞

✦ sif / reader

❀ synopsis. meeting sif for the first time in the forest + headcannons. (angst + fluff, mention of blood, mention of choking, and a dead mother.)

❀ note. i was so upset by the lack of fanfics for sif that i decided to intervene. I pulled an all-nighter just to satisfy my need to read content about her. ( music I listened to while writing: exist for love by aurora, soft universe by aurora, and ribs by lorde.)

────── . ⸙.°

A LOVELY AZURE PAINTED the early morning sky. chirps of birds echoed in the forest, reminding all those that hear them of a new beginning. but unfortunately, it was another day you would spend mouring your mother after ragnarok.

ragnarok is a tragedy you would never forget. on that day, the potent smell of blood choked you to the point of tears, but the feeling of it on your hands was far worse as you tried to save your mother's life after a piece of debris shot through her torso. the last expression that you ever saw her make haunted your conscious, making sleep nearly impossible.

it felt like a miracle when you had willed the strength to get out of bed so early in the moring and bake fattigam, a delicious dessert that your mother made whenever she was having a particularly good day. you smiled fondly while you make it, and although it hurt, you couldn't help but to think of you and your mother would be conversing if she were still alive.

once the fattigam was done, you set it in a basket and put on marred cloak. with a deep breath and for the first time in however long, you left your cottage to venture into the forest and watch the sunrise, an ritual you commonly did with the only family had left. immediately your lungs felt refreshed by the heavenly morning air. you don't remember when, but you decided that if there was nothing you could do to bring your mother back than you could at least honor her and show gratitude by keeping her alive in the little things you two did together.

you had been walking for quite some time. you sighed in relief once you finally found a lake to rest by. kneeling down, you cupped your hands togther and gathered some water. before you could take a sip, you heard faint sounds of…sobbing.

the closer you got, the more painful the sobbing sounded, the source of it must have been hurting so deeply and it saddened you. you wondered what could've happened to them.

but strangely your curiosity was immediately satisfied once you saw who it was. although you could not see the individual's face. you knew exactly who it was from their familiar tattoos and smooth golden hair that was braided to their ankles.

lady sif, the goddess of wheat, harvest, earth, and…family. your chest began to swirl in discomfort.

before you succumbed to your greif and locked yourself away in your cottage, you had caught wind that her husband, thor, the prince of asgard, died by the hands of his own father, odin. you never could've fathom such a thing.

although you didn't know what it's like to lose a lover, you understood what it was like to lose someone who loved you deeply and vice versa. out of empathy, you secretly hoped that atleast she didn't have to see him die right in front of her as you had with your mother.

you begun to turn away to give her privacy, however, you accidentally stepped on a twig causing a sharp snap! to echo approximately ten meters. you tightly shut your eyes in frustration when you heard a sharp gasp from behind you. turning back around, you made eye contact with a teary-eyed lady sif, you immediately showed yourself and bowed your head to her.

“I..I'm sorry for the intrusion, lady sif. I mean you no disrespect, i was just simply passing by.” you kept your head down to embarrassed to make eye contact again.

you were even more embarrassed when you heard her let out an offended huff.

“than why are you still here, mortal?”

you flinched at the harshness of her tone but you knew better than to take it personally. you knew all to well how grief could affect a person, you refused to judge her.

“your right. I'll be on my way right now. forgive me, lady sif.” as you began to turn away, lady sif suddenly stopped you.

“no! wait─”

you turned back to face her and watched as she composed herself. she wiped her tears and turned fully towards you with soft smile. although you could tell it was forced, a weird warmth radiated in your chest.

“I'm sorry. that was rude of me.” she said.

you smiled softly at her and bowed again. “it's alright, lady sif. I understand.”

she frowned slightly at your words. “you understand? you think you know what I'm feeling?”

her tone held both regality as well as slight irritation.

your heart worked faster than head. “with all due respect, lady sif, although I don't know what it's like to lose a lover. I understand all too well how it feels to lose someone you cherish.”

despite not showing it on your face, you felt bashful by your own words. you don't know what could've possessed you to speak so boldly to a goddess.

“you speak of your mother, yes?” her inquiry almost caused you your neck. you looked up at her quite fast, in disbelief that she knew who you were, your eyes were now the size of dinner plates.

“you..know who i am?” you asked in a demure tone and slowly straightened your posture.

lady sif smiled sofly at you, it didn't seem as forced as before. “of course, you're the offspring of a very talented baker. she was kind woman, as well. I was very fond of the desserts she would gift me to show her graditude.”

a sad look flashes in her eyes before she closes her eyes. “I'm sorry to hear that she has passed.”

hearing lady sif speak so fondly of your mother made your eyes sting. you held back your tears as to not make lady sif uncomfortable. you composed yourself and put on your best smile.you walked a bit closer to lady sif and cleared your burning throat.

“pardon me if I'm overstepping, lady sif, but..if you would like, I was planning on watching the sunrise while eating some fattigman,” you held up your basket in front of her to show off said dessert. “would you..perhaps care to join me? my mother often said said that desserts taste better when you share them.”

she looked at you with surprise. embarrassment slowly waved over you, you sucked your lips into your mouth in regret. you internally berated yourself questioning why you, an ordinary mortal, even dared to ask why a goddess would share a dessert with you.

however before you could stutter out an apology, a charming sound tickled your ears. you looked at her only to see a most ethereal sight. a geniue smile graced her face, dilating her already goddess beauty. she looked at you with enlightenment.

“yes, i'd like that.”

you smiled at her as the warmth in your chest from before returned.

──── . ° ♡ pursuit of romance.

from then onward, sif and you had establish a friendship with each other. at first, it consisted of share memories about each other's lost loved one.

she confided in you about thor’s acholoism due to odin treating him like he was a mindless beast capable of nothing else but destruction as if he wasn't a loving husband or a even father that loved his children deeply.

in the beginning, sif rarely talked about her deceased children with you, but as your relationship grows stronger, she trusts you more and allows herself to be vulnerable with you. sometimes, she would visit you cottage and stay past dusk. under the night sky, she would tell stories of magni and modi when they were children with tears streaming down her face. in those moments you could only hold her and encourage to let it all out.

speaking of her children, the closer you got with sif, the cooler you were with thrud who was happy that her mother made a friend after her father's death. thru absolutely loves the fact that you can bake, and often makes requests whenever you visit her mother. sometimes she'll visit you to talk to you about wanting to be a valkerie and eating whatever you make.

when sif sees you being close thrud, a familiar warmth radiates in her chest and a first, she feels ashamed. she discards it as just loving to see her daughter happy but deep down, she knows what she's feeling.

sif didn't want to betray thor or strain her relationship with thrud all over again, so she tried to ignore the warmth that bloomed in chest when she around you. however, there had been moments when she slipped up such as staying at your cottage for longer than usual, hugs feeling a little tighter than before, soft lingering gazes, and even her laugh louder than usual.

at first, you interpreted it as sif trusting you more, to the point of displaying friendly affection. friends are supposed to be affection, right?

as time moved on, there was an inkling of suspension that sif’s affection wasn't as “friendly” as you thought it was. especially after she started randomly gifting you flower crowns and the most elegant daggers you've ever seen. but even so, as to not ruin a good friendship, you kept quiet.

it wasn't until during one of thrud's visits that your suspension was, in a way, confirmed.

“my mother definitely has a thing for you.” you almost dropped the bowl you were in the middle of mixing cake batter in.

“what makes you say that?” you asked. thrud quirks an eyebrow as if to say 'seriously?’ while using her thumb to point to all the flower crowns and daggers decorating a shelf in your living room.

after a through talk with thrud about how she would feel about you being involved with her mother and it ending on a good note. you finally decided to confront sif, and so, you made a plan with thrud.

while thrud worked on somehow getting her mother to visit where you and sif first met. you prepared a basket of fattigman and ventured off into the forest until you reached your destination. while waited for your possible future wife, you rehearsed Hoe you would confess, giving the animals of the forest a good show.

when sif finally showed, you where so worked up by your nerves, you held her hands and blurted out your affections for her right then and there. the warmth that you felt for the first time in this exact place felt even warmer.

sif was speechless by your confession. you could see so many emotions in her eyes. sif cleared her throat and averted her eyes. “what if thrud doesn─” she was swiftly interrupted. “I'm cool with it!” thrud shouted in the distance before holding her thumbs up and running off. “I suppose that answers your question.” you laughed.

a smile graces sif’s face it, but it doesn't last for long. her eyes suddenly turned glossy. “but…thor.” she whispers. at that you frown, not out of jealousy but rather understanding.

“thor will never be replaced, sif. if you're not ready for this, I understand. but, I want you to know that wanting to love and wanting be loved isn't betraying thor. it's natural. you deserve to be move onwards and be happy.” you rubbed circles on her hands to reassure her.

sif’s glossy eyes widened at your words. a few tears sliding down her face. as she thinks, you prepare yourself for rejection only to be taken by surprise when she abruptly pulls you close kisses you. her lips felt divine and the kiss was so delicate yet passionate that you knew it was engraved into you until you died.

sif slowly pulled away and looked deep into your eyes. her gaze was filled with so much affection and adoration, you had look away to fully catch your breath only to lose it again when she cups your chin and makes you look at her.

she rests her forehead against yours you both couldn't help but to laugh at the excitement you both shared, as if the warmth in both of your chests bloomed flowers between your ribcages, and just like that, a new love begins.

────. ✰.° thank you for reading !

[thuganomxcs]

unprompted / always accepting / @mizplacedmagic​ :She had gotten up early for once and the smell of bacon and eggs drifted throughout the home as theo hummed softly. Theo paused once she heard yusuke enter the kitchen and a grin lit up her face." morning ! "

How late was it?? It was clearly before his alarm so definitely not even at 8 yet. Though what was it that woke the young man from his slumber? Was it the sweet song of the birds merrily chirping outside his window? No of course not, in fact the chirping was at the very least annoying to him 90% of the time. Was it because he remembered that he had urgent matters to take care of and the anxiety of it all subconsciously catapulted his senses out of slumber? Definitely not, if he would have to wake up before his clock because of an appointment then he’d just miss it and reschedule it at a later time frame.

NO, what woke him up was the smell of fried bacon. No doubt his beloved was makin them a western dish to enjoy, the classic bacon and eggs from the smell of it and THAT alone warrants an early rise in the morning. His hair was a mess but hell it was the morning so there was no need to be presentable just yet. He might have been slow at responding but nevertheless the young man arrived within the kitchen to catch his beloved finishing her preparations. 

“Morning babe, I see someone’s in a good mood. So Theo what are the odds of me getting a little ‘dessert’ in aftr the meal?” He asked her with a playful ton and even ave her a playful wink as he stood before the plate of food. “Mmm smell good, least now I see why you decided t’ buy bread.”

[pascalpanic]

At Last (Frankie Morales x gn!Reader)

Summary: you, Frankie, and your fur baby go camping! Little does Frankie know what you have planned.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: flirting, innuendo, alcohol, food, language, otherwise, this is toothaching fluff!

A/N: SAMMY MY BELOVED @sanchosammy GAVE ME THIS IDEA! I hope it’s as cute as I think it is :) also, Charlie (Frankie’s pup) isn’t involved in this fic but she is still part of the fam :)

Pine trees surround you on either side, tall and majestic. You can see the blue-gray sky patching through the canopy; the clouds are leaving, but some linger a little longer to clog up the sky. The air is warm and slightly humid, but a wonderful breeze rustles through the trees and rushes across your bare arms. Your trail shoes squelch underfoot in the damp ground. You sigh, totally content with this moment. 

Frankie’s flannel is tied around his waist, leaving him in his khaki cargo pants and t-shirt. A couple of curls peek out from under his ball cap, turning into little ringlets at the nape of his neck. He walks in front of you on the trail, his boots pressing prints into the soft ground. His back profile is beautiful, even with the large camping pack, and you can’t help but grin. 

Foxtrot embodies her name- Frankie is holding her leash, and the auburn and white dog trots up ahead of him, sniffing along the mulched and muddied path. The air smells of humidity that’s just passed over and that wonderful accompanying petrichor. Fox’s white paws are surely getting dirtied, but that’s only to be expected. You don’t care, too excited to watch your boyfriend and dog walk ahead of you. 

Frowning at the bend of Frankie’s back, you catch up and take his free hand. “Let me carry something, baby.”

“No,” he shakes his head, lacing his fingers through yours. “You have important cargo,” he teases and pats your back lightly. 

Strapped to your back, in a backpack-style blue case, is your ukulele. One hand carries the cooler, slung over your shoulder, filled with food and drinks for tonight. Frankie carries the heavy-duty stuff- the tent, stakes, more essential supplies. “At least let me take Fox.”

Her red ears perk up at her name and she stops, turning and growing excited, as if she forgot you were there. “Yeah, hi Foxy!” You coo as she runs towards you, jumping with her front paws in the air in excitement. “Yeah, you love it out here, don’t you?” You ask her in a baby voice, scratching behind her ears as she circles around your legs and prevents you from moving. Frankie drops her leash in order to prevent your legs from being tourniqueted by it, and it drags behind her in the mud. 

When you pick up the leash, it’s sludgy and damp, but you don’t mind too much. You continue the hike forward and Frankie and Fox follow at your sides, both beaming ear to ear and enjoying the serenity of the woods. 

Frankie picked the campsite, so he’s technically leading the way, but the trail is fairly straightforward, meaning you don’t need to be led. Frankie points out wildlife here and there: chipmunks, rabbits, cardinals and chickadees flitting through the pine-needled canopy. He’s in his element, and you’re in yours: with him. 

The mud gives way to drier ground ahead, and luckily enough Frankie pulls off to the side. It’s the perfect spot, with a beautiful little field of wildflowers. “Welcome to your five-star hotel for the night, babe,” he assures you and kisses you softly, making you giggle and kiss him back with excitement and a pinch of nerves in your stomach.

There’s a routine the two of you have silently adopted. Frankie sets up the small tent, just big enough for the two of you and Fox. You gather kindling, set up a fire, arrange the chairs and all-around make the outdoor area of your campsite ideal.

Frankie is a man of patience, truly, but sometimes the little portable tent proves to be a challenge. You allow Fox off of her leash, knowing she’s well-trained enough to stick around the site, and find your way to the mess of fabric and stakes covering the man. “Baby. For the love of God, we do this all the time,” you tease.

“Well, something must’ve fucking changed,” he grumbles as he fiddles with the parts. You get on your knees on the soft bed of dried pine needles and help him out. With your help, the tent takes no time at all to put up, and you stand and brush off your hands. Frankie gives you a sheepish smile and you give him a kiss. 

The two of you don’t need to converse while you set things up. You enjoy the woods, the rustling of the wind and chirping of birds. Fox curls up on the blanket you set out for her, and when everything is done, you unzip the cooler and hand Frankie a beer. “Well, now we’re all set.”

“Let the fun begin,” he chuckles and twists the top open, clinking his glass bottle to yours. 

“So, Francisco,” you smile over at him. “What do you have planned for this trip? I know you have some sort of plan laid out up there,” you tease and rap on his head softly, through the trucker cap resting there.

He blushes a little and looks away. “I don’t always have a plan.”

“Hey.” You turn his face back to yours by the chin. “You do and I absolutely love it. Now tell me about it, please, baby.”

Frankie removes his hat and runs a hand through his curls. “Well, I figured we could start the fire soon, cook dinner over it. It’ll get dark pretty quick. Then hang around the campfire, maybe play some of the games I packed.”

“Is a quiet tumble in the tent on the cards?” You ask him with a teasing grin, nudging his side. 

He shrugs, jokingly, as if he’s considering it. “I don’t see why we couldn’t squeeze that in. We only have, oh… three hours of time in between these plans.”

“Then we’ll use all three of those hours,” you shrug and steal a kiss, smiling into his lips. “I love you. And I love it out here.” You were never a nature person before Frankie, usually preferring indoors adventures to hiking or camping. Frankie looks like he belongs out here, and he probably thinks he does. Even if you didn’t enjoy the fun of outdoors adventuring, you’d have at least one thing to enjoy: Frankie’s excitement and enthusiasm over it. “Thank you.”

Fox is curled at Frankie’s feet, and he bends over to scratch her ears, running his fingers through her scruffy fur. “Thank you, baby. For coming out here with me and putting up with all of this. I couldn’t ask for a better adventure partner.”

-

You do, indeed, cook dinner over the fire. You’d prepped all kinds of chopped vegetables to be grilled over an open flame, and had additionally packed pre-cooked hot dogs as well as s’mores ingredients. Frankie is a firm believer that it’s not camping if it doesn’t include graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows.

Luckily, your Frankie is a skilled griller. He always is, always has been. He takes care of the cooking part, since you prepared everything else, though he lets you hold the hot dogs over the fire to roast. “I feel like I’m at camp again,” you laugh as you slowly rotate the food over the fire.

Frankie is taking charge of the vegetables, expertly. They’re getting a beautiful char, you notice. “It’s much better, because you don’t have to sneak around to make out with your boyfriend at night, huh?” He teases and tosses you a grin. 

“But I get my boyfriend all to myself,” you nod and confirm. “And I have my baby girl with me,” you coo as you rub Foxtrot’s head, where she’s resting at your side.

The meal is delicious, of course, when the two of you work together and each used your strong skills. Frankie slips bites to Fox when he thinks you’re not looking, of course, but it’s endearing, the way the dog’s big brown eyes mirror those looking down at her.

There’s not much conversation while you eat, mouths occupied with food rather than speaking. That’s alright. There’s plenty of time for that tonight and tomorrow.

The sun starts sinking lower when Frankie brings the marshmallows from the tent. “Guess what time it is!” He exclaims as he rips open the bag, skewering two marshmallows and holding them over the fire.

Like he’s a skilled griller, he’s also a wonderful marshmallow-toaster. Frankie toasts yours to perfection, just the way you like it, and you do your part as the s’more-sandwicher, shoving the marshmallow between the graham crackers and chocolate.

There’s no signal out here, and you agreed neither of you would use your phones unless an emergency happened. Frankie frowns as he sees your phone. “Hey. Put that away. Don’t use that.”

“There’s an emergency, Frankie,” you whine, opening the camera app with one hand and eating the sugary dessert with the other.

“And what’s that?” He asks, taking a bite of his s’more. 

Strings of gooey marshmallow connect the sandwich to his lips, making him laugh, and you snap a picture at the perfect moment: Frankie’s closed-lipped smile as his s’more falls apart on him. “You’re too damn cute, that’s the emergency,” you laugh and set the photo as your lock screen, tossing it away.

Frankie’s schedule actually worked itself naturally. After the s’mores and a wet-wipe hand-washing to remove the endless marshmallow from Frankie’s hands, you find yourself sitting around the fire, no light left in the sky. When you look up, all you can see is inky blue and pine trees, the stars yet to make their nightly rise. 

“I have a song request,” Frankie asks and raises his hand like a child in a classroom.

“Yes, Francisco?” You tease as you walk to the tent, grabbing your ukulele and returning with it, sitting back in your lawn chair with it. “Hit me.”

“Only The Good Die Young by Billy Joel. No, wait- Country Roads.”

Laughing, you noodle around with the strings for a moment. You knew this moment would come, and here’s the opportunity. “I can play all of those and more, Frankie. We’ll do the Billy Joel first,” you nod decisively.

Frankie sounds like the forest wolves at night when he sings along. He absolutely howls, taken away by the song, taken to a place where his voice isn’t just a little on the rougher end of good. He belts the words and dances along in his seat, like you do.

Then Country Roads. You thought the last one was bad before you hear Frankie’s booming voice echoing the ballad of West Virginia through seemingly the entire preserve. But you don’t care in the slightest. You sing along proudly, strumming your ukulele harder and harder until you’re sure you can’t add any more volume before snapping a string. 

After the song, you pause and rest your ukulele flat on your lap. “Frankie, baby. Can I ask you something?”

He nods, smiling over at you. “Any time. What’s up, buttercup?” He asks, taking one of your hands and kissing the knuckles.

“Will you marry me?” You ask. The question is straight and to the point, blunt and honest. Your face conveys your hope, and the grandiose speech follows. “I love you beyond belief, Frankie. I love you almost as much as you love these woods. I know you love me too. I just… think it’s time. We’ll be perfect for it. What do you say?”

You can feel Frankie’s slightly-chapped lips curve into a smile against your hand. He’s grinning and then he’s crying, soft water droplets forming in the corners of his eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you,” he grins, grabbing your ukulele and setting it aside.

Once the ukulele is on the ground, Frankie stands in front of your chair and lifts you to your feet, kissing you with such fervor you can’t help but gasp. When he breaks away, you smile, eyes watering too. “I know it wasn’t the most elegant of proposals, but-”

“It was the most us,” Frankie cuts you off with a teary grin. “I would be honored to be your husband, my love. You really want me enough to do that?”

“Frankie,” you coo, cupping his face in your hand. “You are the best husband I could ever want, could ever dream for,” you assure him and kiss his nose gently.

The man laughs, wiping his tears away. “Then let’s get married,” he whoops excitedly, then lets out an excited shout to the woods. “We’re getting married!”

You laugh at his loud and booming declaration, but nothing can detract you for the love and joy in your heart.

When you and Frankie settle down in your chairs again, you pick up the ukulele and finish off with one last beautiful song that you and Frankie have always adored, with a title that truly fits: At Last.

-

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[chibienvychan03]

A MC Surprise

Since you’ve been taking care of his plants while he’s away on missions, he’s given you a key to his place. Not even Minor or Eli have that privilege. He trusts you to be in his sanctuary. Trusts you to not be too curious and go through his stuff unlike a certain person who shall be nameless but somehow they’re still friends… No, it’s not Eli.

 Thanks to having a friendship with Eli, you have an ally willing to help you within reason. He has informed you they’ve been working on a case, and that is why Gavin hasn’t been at his home or contacting you lately. It’s an urgent and confidential mission so you understand when Eli can’t give you the specifics of it though he tells you the hardest and most dangerous part has been finished. They’re wrapping things up.

 Since Gavin has been working hard, you decide to put your culinary lessons to good use and make him a home made meal… using his own kitchen. Considering the last time you visited, you stop by the grocery store before you head over to his place. You thank whatever deity there’s a market close to his place as you don’t think you can carry it the entire way there, and you want to keep this a surprise. Eli will warn you when he can’t stop Gavin from heading back to his place.

 Seeing as he trusts you, you ensure you don’t lose the keys by having it hang on a necklace around your neck. You use it to unlock the door. Inside two birds greet you from their respective cages. After you close and lock the door, you head over to their cages to pet each of them. Pearly coos at you while Zappy, being the little imp they are, insists on being scritches. You decide to humor them and give them a few scritches, however, Pearly is feeling left out so you give him some too.

 Once you decide they’ve had enough, you head into the kitchen and start emptying your bags. You sort them according to the dishes. Anything that needs to be kept chilled is placed in the fridge until you’re ready to use them. However, something catches your attention.

 “Zappy!” You sigh as they’re poking their head into the bag, being very curious. “How did you get out of your cage?” Is Pearly still in his cage? You take a risk and check. At least you only have to worry about one escaped bird.

 “Let’s get you back.”

 Zappy gives you those incredibly cute birdy eyes which melts your heart. “Fine. You can stay, but you better be on good behavior.”

 It seems Zappy understands you, making you wonder how much they understand. That’s for another time when you have time. Better start cooking before he comes home. You want him to come home to a fully cooked home-made dinner.

 With everything organized, you start preparing the vegetable starting with carrots. You move onto the next vegetable. As you’re chopping it, you notice Zappy entertaining themselves by playing with the carrot peels. “You silly bird.” When you pick up a new vegetable, they become interested in it and then goes back to playing with the peels when their curiosity has been satisfied.

 Soup, curry, duck, rice, and a dessert. While you’re standing behind the stove stirring the soup, Zappy uses your shoulder as a perch to get a better view. They snuggle against your neck to which you pet them.  At least they aren’t making a mess and just want to watch what you’re doing.

 Time flies by. Soon Zappy is chirping up a storm. You wonder what has their feathers ruffled before remembering Eli promised to text you when Gavin leaves work. You race over to your phone, which is charging. There are over half a dozen texts. It hits you. You have left it on vibrate as earlier you’ve been on scene doing a shoot.

 With Zappy being this chirpy, it must mean Gavin has arrived. You peek out the window to find him parking Sparky. Hurrying over to your cooking, you attempt to finish it and hopefully you can get it on the table before he opens the door. In your haste, you don’t notice Zappy jumping off your shoulder to assist you by somehow dragging out the necessary silverware and plates.

 After triple checking to make sure they’re done, you’re ready to set the table. That is when you noticed the table already set. You glance over to Zappy who appears to have that smug look… if birds can have one. “I’ll give your reward later on.” They don’t give you any trouble when you put them back into their cage.

 Soon enough, you hear the key being inserted and the lock being unlocked. You race back into the kitchen to pretend you’re not there, however, the smell of dinner is a dead giveaway. Not to mention, you’re wearing the ginkgo bracelet.

 “Something smells good,” Gavin comments as he enters. He’s wearing a huge smile, knowing you’re already there and have prepared him a dinner that he never saw coming. “What’s the occasion?”

 You leave his kitchen. “It’s your reward for all your hard work.”

 Gavin hangs up his coat before embracing you. “Thank you. But I don’t want to trouble you.”

 “How many times must I tell you, you’re no trouble at all, and I wanted to do this,” you mumble against his broad, muscular chest. “You give so selflessly. Why can’t I give you something in return?” You puff your cheeks and pout.

 Gavin chuckles. “You can, and I appreciate everything you do.”

 “Now go wash up.” You shoo him away so you can finish by doing the final touches.

 Humoring you, Gavin heads to his bedroom to get some casual clothes. A couple minutes later, a shower can be heard.

 You squash any naughty thoughts especially ones where water runs down those muscles. Oh great. Better busy yourself before your mind heads in that direction. You place your creations on the table, making sure to give yourself the less spicy curry. When you’re cooking, you make two, one for yourself and one for him. You don’t know how he can withstand such spicy food.

 “Maybe it’s because he’s hot.”

 “Who’s hot?”

 Gavin’s sudden appearance startles you almost causing you to drop the soup. He manages to catch both you and the soup you’ve worked hard to cook. “Sorry.”

 As soon as you calm yourself, you give him a playful slap on his upper arm. “Are you part ninja? I didn’t hear you coming.”

 “Um… no, I can make more noise if you like.” You assure him you’re fine either way. Then Gavin goes back to his original question. “Who is hot?” The way he says it sounds like he wants to give a beating to whoever you think is hot.

 You decide to tease him a little for nearly giving you a heart attack. “Someone we both know. He’s kind and gentle. Helps me and everyone else. Often neglecting himself.”

 Gavin’s frown becomes more and more prominent as you gush over this person who he doesn’t know as himself. “…. As long as he treats you well.”

 “Yes, he treats me well, and I hope one day he will have the courage to ask me on a date.” You bat your eyes at him.

 “If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t know what’s he’s missing out. You’re a good catch.” Gavin pauses. “I’ll beat him up if makes you cry.”

 You press yourself against him. “Does that mean you’ll beat yourself up?”

 “Yes, I will…” It dawns on him who you’re referring to. “Ahem, would you… Um… Can I? Crap, this sounds a lot better in my head.”

 “Yes.”

 “Yes?”

 “Yes, I’d love to go on a date with you.” You answer his unasked question.

 The brightest smile graces his face as he lovingly looks at you. “Thank you.” It seems he can stare at you for a long time without being bored.

 Your stomach has other things in mind. You blush. “Before dinner gets cold.”

 “Of course, can’t let your efforts go to waste. I bet it tastes great,” Gavin comments you on your cooking before he even has a bite.

 Typical of him. You usher him to his usual seat. “Let me know if it’s not spicy enough.”

 “You didn’t try it?”

 You give him that look. “You know I can’t handle spicy.”

 Gavin blushes big time as he recalls your lack of tolerance for spicy. He’s about to tell you to not to make it spicy for him when you cut him off.

 Pointing the serving spoon at him, you prepare to give him a piece of your mind. “You’ve always made sure I enjoy my meals. Why can’t I do the same for you?”

 “Ahem… okay.” Gavin holds up his hands in surrender. He wants to make you happy, but if making him happy makes you happy, then so be it. “Let’s dig in.”

 “Right.”

 The two of you enjoy the meal you’ve painstakingly cooked. Thanks to your friend, your knife skills have improved to the point of you not cutting yourself at all. You talk about what you’ve been up to lately, the latest movies, songs, and whatever crosses either of your minds.

 Then you bring out desserts. “I hope you’ve made space for this.” You made sure to make it not too sweet.

 “Of course.” Gavin thoroughly enjoys the piece you’ve given him. “It’s the best fruit tart I’ve tasted.”

 Your blush will make a tomato green with envy. “I just followed the recipe. Nothing special about it.”

 “It’s special because you made it,” Gavin says in between bites.

 “Just finish your dessert.” Could you get any redder? You have a feeling the answer is yes, and Gavin isn’t even trying. He’s being his honest and genuine self.

 “As you wish.” Gavin finishes his dessert according to your wishes. When you eat yours, he picks up the used plates. Before you can object, he refuses to let you do any of the washing. “Since you cooked dinner, I’ll wash the dishes. You can play with the birds.”

 Okay. It’s been awhile since you’ve really played with them. You head over to where their cages are only to find Zappy has escaped his cage again… “You little escape artist.” You open Pearly’s cage, allowing him to fly out and onto your shoulder. Soon Zappy is on your other shoulder. The two snuggle against you, chirping in content. You sit down before you give them scritches. They love the attention you’re showering on them.

 Minutes later, Gavin joins you and the birds. Did he just take a picture of you? You stare at his cell phone which is in his hands. “This picture is for my eyes only… and yours.”

 Phew. You hope you look good in it given his photography skills. “Do you know you have a little escape artist here?”

 “Zappy broke out again? I swore I put a better lock on his cage.” Gavin turns his attention to the cage. You both look at this bird, wondering how they escape no matter what Gavin tries.

 “Apparently you need to do better,” you chuckle as you pat the empty space next to you on the sofa.

 He complies with your wishes and sits next to you. However, neither birds budge from their perches on your shoulder. Gavin isn’t annoyed as he knows the birds love you too, just not that way. He doesn’t blame them. After all, you’re kind and generous. It helps you sometimes spoil the two whenever you’re there or take care of them.

 “Indeed. You want to watch a movie?”

 You shake your head. “It’s been a long time since we’ve chatted. I want to catch up.”

 “Didn’t we do that over dinner?” Gavin appears to be confused. When you puff up your cheeks, he realizes his mistake and profusely apologizes.

 “I want to get to know you better,” you say as you lean on him, being mindful of Zappy who’s on your right shoulder.

 “What would you like to know?”

 You giggle. “Part of the fun is finding out without asking directly.” He gives you that confused look. “Find out through conversation. Let it happen naturally.”

 “Oh okay. It’s about the journey, not the destination.” Gavin is now on board. You’re on the same page. “So what shall we start with?”

 You start off with a random subject.

[lennydaisy]

EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER FIVE.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

                   “Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks                                                                                                                    Season 1-                                                                                                                      FEM OC! and ?

Here is a link to the EPIPHANY SERIES MASTERLIST! 

"Come on, hurry up!" I shouted over my shoulder, running as fast as my legs would take me. The overhead birds chirping and singing encouraged me to go faster, looking up as they danced and twirled under the clouds, "We're gonna miss it."

"Macy, wait up!" I heard him yell, but I didn't listen. Dodging in and out of the sun beat trees, welcoming the comforting smell of freshly cut grass. The sight of the warm, orange sky meeting the deep, blue ocean made my eyes shine with wonderous adventure. The hot, summer rays beat down on my exposed arms as the humid air erupts my hair into a frenzy.

Beat sneakers skidded to a stop when I reached the edge of the drop. My chest heaved as I watched stones and dirt fall into the pool of water, scaring away the sparkle of fireflies.

"Since when-" my friend eventually caught up to me. His hands planted on his knees, leaning over with tiredness, puffing in and out air with his cheeks tinted red, "-since when did you get so fast."

I paid the exhausted boy no mind, my eyes never leaving the still oceanfront. We couldn't have missed it. I heard the lady at the dock say at sunset. It's sunset so, where are they?

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" He asked, not understanding why he is here staring at practically nothing. As soon as I had heard the news, I bolted to his place, pushing past his shocked mom who yelled profanities at me as I dragged her son out of the house.

"Shush," I hushed the boy, refusing to give up. The sun was slowly but surely setting in front of us, whilst the winds became nippier. Still, there was no sight of what I had been so excited to show my friend.

A few minutes of silence made my optimism fall quickly, "Let's just go," with slouched shoulder and a petted lip, I turn away from the edge feeling embarrassed, wanting to just get back home, "It doesn't matter."

"Macy, look!" I heard his voice chirp with excitement, Spinning around wondering what could be so exciting about this failed adventure. I followed his crooked finger that points outs at the ocean and the bubbling feeling explodes in my stomach again.

They're here!

In the distance, bobbing out from the waves was a pod of dolphins. There had to be at least ten of them. All making their away east of the sun that sparkles off the tip of their fins.

Now sitting at the edge of the drop, our feet dangling over the water as we watched the amazing creatures. I knew that dolphins were his favourite animal and sadly he had never seen them in person before, and neither had I, until today.

It was magically. With the sun shining its last light for the day, everything just felt peaceful. Turning to the boy beside me whose face is lit up with wonder, "How cool would it be to swim with dolphins," I dreamed, waving the last of the animals away. A feeling on contentment fluttered in my chest.

"That would be pretty cool," he agreed before flicking his eyes over to me, "you can't swim though," he teased, nudging his shoulder into mine.

It's true, I never learned how to swim. It's not that I don't want to, it's just, scary, I guess. We have no clue how big the ocean is. To put it into perspective, we have explored more of outer space than we have on our own planet. That's unsettling!  It was hard enough for my dad to get me comfortable enough to go on a boat. The thought of teaching me how to swim was completely out of the picture.

If I did one day decide that I wanted to learn how to swim, my teacher would have to be someone I trust wholeheartedly. Someone who wouldn't give up when I complain. Someone who wouldn't laugh at me when I think I'm sinking. Someone who knows my limits.

I just nodded my head, ducking down timidly at my inability being mentioned. He placed a soft hand on my shoulder, "It's okay, Macy," he comforts, but his fingers slowly grip my shoulder tighter. His nails digging into my skin.

I didn't have time to wince before he said in a harsh tone, "Don't want you to drown like your old man."

And then I was falling.

He pushed me roughly off the edge. My legs scrapped against the tough dirt as my arms flap wildly in the harsh winds that dry up my eyes. I couldn't hear anything other than the sound of his distant laughter. The surface of the water getting closer and closer, as I finally let out a scream.

Jumping awake with a gasp, my hands gripping at my bedsheet tightly. Sweat drips down the bridge of my nose causing me to twitch. I look around. I'm in my room. 'I'm safe,' I remind myself.

Pushing my sheet off me, I didn't even want to remember what happened, but spotting my alcohol cover clothes in the corner of my room floods my mind with the memory. Shaking my head, erasing the thought as I place my bare feet on the cold floorboards, a shiver shooting up my back.

My head is pounding, my eyes feel like they are burning, no thanks to the blinding sun, and my throat feels drier than the dessert. 'I'm never drinking again' I thought but knowing fine well that's a lie.

I make my way out my room, the whole shack radiating nothing, but peaceful silence. John B must still be asleep. My knees shaking with the early morning chill as I make my way to the kitchen with one thought on my mind. Warm lemon tea.

Very Kook sounding I know, but that's because Kie introduced me to it me years ago when I had tonsillitis. I was reluctant to try it, but she practically forced it down my throat and it surprisingly helped me. And it tasted good too.

Since then, Kie gave me an emergency stash of lemon tea. It never tastes as good when I make it, but right now I will do anything to get rid of the stinging in throat.

It took a lot of resilience for me not to rip my throat out as I watched the water boil. The whistle of the kettle sounded like a prayer from God. Pouring the water into my ladybug cup, I can't help but scowl as I look out the window at the relentless rooster that's dancing across the yard. That thing is the devil. I nearly need to give it name so I can swear at it with confidence.

Norris.

Do you know who would like Norris? Mrs Adams. Do you think JJ would notice if I got rid of his beloved rooster? At least I gave it a name, he just calls it rooster-

A gentle knocking coming from the front of the house catches my attention. I go to glance at the clock that is nailed lopsided on the wall but realise it’s no use because I keep forgetting to put new batteries in it. Sipping my tea, I waited for a few minutes to see to if they would knock again.

It's too early for social interactions. The thought of having to talk to some chipper morning person is already giving me a migraine. Humming at the warm sensation in my throat, I stop peering around the corner and decided to make myself comfortable. It's my house. They'll just have to go away.

"It's the Sheriff, open up," the sudden voice of Peterkin’s causing me to choke on my drink, wincing as my knee smashes into the cabinet. Throwing my cup in the sink, ignoring the smashing sound as I quickly grab the trash can, running around the house in a fit of coughs, picking up the empty beer bottles, "No one's home!"

"The DCS called," I let out a scream, spinning around to see the woman now standing in our living room, "They want me to check on you," she said, eyeing the half-smoked blunt that was laying on the table.

Trying to hide my discomfort at the officer in my house, I force a smile onto my face, "Well I'm here," I hold out an arm, trying to lead her out the door, "Thanks for stopping by."

I can already she's far from done with me as my attempt to usher her out failed. Peterkins who has had a curious eye on the house since she entered, spots the picture that is hanging on the wall, "Is that Uncle T?" she asks, but I know what she's trying to do, "How's he been."

"He's uh," I clear my throat, picking at my hangnails, feeling pressured under her gaze, "Can I wake up my lawyer before I answer any questions?"

Running past the officer, I bolt into John B's room. The boy was still fast asleep, lying at the foot of his bed. I would have winced at the shiner on his eye, but I have no time. "John B," I shake him harshly. He just waves a hand tiredly in my direction, humming, before turning over away from me.

"John B," I whine harshly, "Peterkins is here, please get up. She scares me," I admit, smacking him with a pillow. At the mention of Peterkins, John B shoots up, wiping his drool on the back of his hand and attempts to make himself look like a normal, law-abiding citizen.

Stopping at the entrance of his door, he turns to look at me. I could see what he was asking me. He wants me to go first. No way. I shake my head at the boy, pushing him into the hallway first. Did he just ignore me confessing that the lady scares me? She always looks like she knows something and that because she knows everything. That's how she gets you.

Peering over John B shoulder, I spot Peterkins shuffling through the pile of letters that we have dumped on the counter. I would have pulled her up for raiding through our personal detail, but again- she terrifies me. And also, the amount of empty beer bottles that are scattered around the place is concerning.

I grab a bottle of the cabinet and pass it to John B with stern eyes. Understanding, he greets Peterkins picking up bottles as he goes along, "Peterkins. How nice of you to stop by."

"How you been John B?" she asks, getting straight to the point, "besides the-," pointing at his eye.

"I'm fantastic," he claims, eventually stuttering out an answer, the ladies early morning appearance shaking him up. "Thanks for stopping by," he excuses her as I rush over to the door, holding it open for her.

"Am glad to hear that," she muses, hat in her hands as she blatantly ignores my kind gesture. She really can't take a hint. "However, I've heard a few things that worried me. Let's see if you two can help me out."

Oh boy.

I let go of the door, knowing that she won't be leaving anytime soon. Listening to the list of worries she has; I walk around the house trying to hide any evidence that she could use against us. "One thing I heard was that your Uncle T, your guardian, has been out of state for three months."

"You think we could survive for three months on our own?" I laugh, trying not to wither under her gaze, "With his cooking, we'd be dead in a week," I point at my brother who turns to me with a look of insult and betrayal.

"As if you're any better, Miss 'can I put tins in the microwave'," He outs me, not wanting to be the only one under fire. And yes, I did put a tinned can in the microwave, but it wasn't that big of a deal, just don't try it at home. I mean it.

"It was one time!"

"The microwave exploded!"

"And we got a new one. Minor details, John B."

Clearing her throat to interrupt our argument, "Give up the act, I called the school," she stated, now leaning against the wall, sheet of paper in hand, "You guys use to be good students, now you're falling all your classes," she flashes the report card she is holding to us as evidence.

Looking at the card all I see is a long line of C's and D's. Her evidence holds nothing against me though. That's John B report card. I was smart enough to shred mine before I even got home.

"Actually, only Johnny boy is failing all his classes-" I start, John B butting in, "-No. Only history, the guys a dick, he's got it out for me," I nod my head understandingly at the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I, however, am a model student. Straight A's"

"Expect for home economics?" she questions smartly, raining on my parade. I didn't have anything to say to that, just pulling a face which probably gives her the answer.

"I also heard there was a fight on the beach yesterday," I bit my lip, finally understanding why she's here. I move to sit on the couch, knowing I was in for the long haul, "and a gun was involved."

Did he really run and tell the police?

"Okay," John B huffs, shaking his head in disappointment, "Did I get in a dustup?" He asks and points his finger at me to answer for him, acting like we were on a game show

"Yes," I nod my head in excitement, smiling brightly when he holds his thumb up confirming my answer. Moving swiftly onto the next question, "But was there a gun?" he asks, acting out like it was a scenario I suppose to play out in my head.

I tap my chin, pretend to think, "Nope, that would make sense," I dwell before crossing fingers, saying my answer, "No."

"Is that your final answer?" John B sits down next to me, hold out the imaginary microphone. You could feel the anticipation rising, along with Peterkin patience, "Yes!" I confirm.

"Congratulation Miss Routledge!" he announces, "You've just won an all exclusive trip to The Bahamas," revelling my award as I wipe away the pretend tears, sniffling with happiness, fully prepared to give my thank you speech.

"I know who it was," she deadpans, ruining my moment, forcing me back to reality, "and I'll get to him."

"All I care about is makin' sure you're in a safe home," she continues, and I see the look in her eye. She thinks we're lost causes. That's a bit harsh, true, but harsh.

"We are in a safe home," I confirm, reaching over to pull the string of the light that was left on from the night before. In a blink of an eye, the blub blows out, short-circuiting with a sharp spark as the drawstring snaps from the lamp, "Super safe."

"And sturdy," John B adds, "besides, Uncle T's coming back," he says in a matter of fact, knowing that's what Peterkins would want to hear.

"Is that what they told you?" She muses but looks at me, already knowing what John Bs answer would be. I glance quickly at my brother, "Yes," I confirm, trying to act nonchalant.

"If he's coming, I think you should be allowed to stay," she shrugs, taking our side as John B and I nod at her, "Thank you."

It feels like the whole world is against John B and I. We're always wrong. We're always looked done on because we're Pogues. We're always pitted because our dad is missing. I want to believe that Sheriff Peterkins is truly on our team for once, but I can feel a strong meaning coming with her agreement.

"But if I stick my neck out for you," 'there it is' I thought, "you have to help me. Tit for tat."

"What does tat mean?" John B asks confused. What I'm more confused about is how did I end up with such a dumb twin. I'm the brains and he's the brawn, I guess?

"She wants something in return," I define the phrase for him. It's a bit corrupt if you ask me. She is basically acknowledging the fact we did something wrong but is willing to kick that under the rug for any information that we might have.

Pointing her finger at me, "Your 'A' in English is showing," she says before falling serious again, "A body was found in the marsh yesterday. Were you in the marsh yesterday?"

"Yeah," I confirm, seeing no point in lying about it, "we went fishing."

"You catch anything?" she asks, suspicion radiating of her voice as she leans against the wall in front of us. I feel like I'm being interrogated. I am being interrogated.

"Nah, we were skunked," Peterkins just laughs under her breath at John Bs reply, "Strange. Fishing's usually good after a storm. All sorts of things get stirred up."

I know where this is going. Scooter Grubbs body was found yesterday morning, but there was no sign of the boat that he supposedly left on. I'm assuming the still haven't found it, that's why Peterkins is here. Of course, she'd question us. With a background that is filled with trouble, it always finds a way into our lives. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume we knew something.

"You come across a wreck yesterday?"

The sheriff sigh as John B and I both shake our heads at her question, "The pair of you are just skimming above the surface," she starts, her patience completely gone, "now, down here is foster care, juvie," she lists off as I watch her twirling finger. My stomach churning at the mention of foster care.

"Pretty big drop for smart kids like you," she compliments, continuing of her sentiment, "Up here is you and your little friends doing whatever you want." I like it up there.  

"Outer Banks," she weights in one hand with a soft voice, "or foster care on the mainland," her tone changing at the other option.

It hard to imagines that one singular event led up to all this. After dad went missing our life has just been a downwards spiral. Everything that Peterkin had said is true. John B and I used to be good students. We never missed a paper, or even dared to skip class. Fair we're friends with JJ, but we knew that dad wanted us to have a good future. I'd hate to know if we've disappointed him.

"You are one inch above the surface," she stresses, knowing that she is getting to us, "If I were you, I'd start flapping my wings."

We've had too many close calls. How many more can we have?

"Now, you sure you didn't come across a wreck yesterday?"

"We're sure."

Hopefully one more.

"It's better if you didn't, you understand?" she crouches down, placing a hand on both our knee's, her eyes not flickering, "I'm going to look the other way, as long as you two stay out of the marsh."

I bit my lip, listening to her footsteps heading toward the door. My body finally relaxing, realising she was leaving. "I've got dogs livin' better than this," she insults. Eyes snapping up when the sound of an empty bottle crashes into the overflowing bin, "You might want to think about cleanin' up."

When I was younger, I wanted to be a princess. I wanted to live in a big castle, with the most luxurious ballroom that would hold the biggest and best events of the year, and a huge kitchen with a countless number of chefs and bakers.

I dreamed of swirling dresses and pointed shoes. Dragons and dashing knights. True loves kiss and happily ever after. I would be friends with all the animals. I would have a Fairy God Mother. I would have anything I wanted.

My life would be the perfect fantasy.

The closest I've been to a princess is the one time JJ called me it, and I immediately told him to never do it again. Not because I didn't like it. It just scared me. My whole life I've wanted to be a princess and I like to believe that I know what it takes to be one. I'm not a princess. I don't feel like one.

A princess should never feel the way I feel.

"Watcha doin' out here by yourself?" I hear a voice call out. Turning my head, watching as Pope made is way over to the hammock that I'm occupying. Moving over slightly, I make room for him at the other end.

"Oh y' know, scheming," I joke, looking at the boy who makes himself comfortable. After two minutes of huffing and puffing, he eventually settles into the hammock. My eye catches the thick book that he has held in his hand, "What you reading?"

"Just some autobiography I found in the library," he shrugs like it’s no big deal. The book he's holding had to be at least 600 pages. I don't think I've read 600 pages of anything in my entire life, but this boy could probably read it all in one night. Also, we have a library?

"For my scholarship entry paper, they want me to write 6,000 words about myself and what I intend to do over the summer," I can tell by the tone of his voice that he is not looking forward to writing that and I wouldn't either.

"My name is Pope Heyward," I start, trying my best to mimic Pope's voice, "I have an obsession with dead bodies and this summer I plan to go grave digging-" he kicks his foot against my shoulder as I giggle at the disapproving face.

"It isn't an AA meeting"

"No, but it should be," I shove this foot away from me, "you really have a problem."

Whacking my knee with his ten-ton book, he urges me to stop talking, "With violence!" I exclaim, holding my kneecap with wide eyes. Pope just shakes his head at my dramatics, a small smile covering his face.

"Macy, this is serious," he huffs, "I have no idea what to write."

"Why don't you volunteer at like a youth group or something?" I suggest, now giving him serious ideas. I don't like seeing Pope stressed and I can tell that this scholarship means a lot to him. I might not be the best at advice, but I want to help him, "You can teach them how to dance?"

"Not happening," he deadpans, but I'm not taking no as an answer. Pope is the best dancer I know. I've asked him multiple times to teach me, but every time he declines, stating he 'Can't Dance'. If he can't dance, then what does that say about my dancing ability?

Jumping out of the hammock, I hold my hand out for Pope to take. I shake my hand wanting him to grab it, my eyebrows wiggling, "Come on Pope."

"No," but I didn't listen, reaching for his hand to pull him gracefully out of the hammock. I ignore his objections and helping him back onto his feet, taking both of his hands in mine.

Obnoxiously, I sing a cliché ballroom waltzing song, gliding around the grass with Pope. Pushing and pulling. Spinning and twirling. Both of us red-faced with cramping stomachs, stumbling over each other's toes.

For the first time today, I felt happy. After the mess this morning with Peterkins, John B and I have been in a stumper on mood. She really did rain on our parade. I know that she is only looking out for us, but it just feels forced. Right now, despite the slight overcast that is clouding the Outer Banks, I feel warm and peaceful.

I could feel my eyes shining with childish innocence, as I dragged Pope in circles around the hammock. I was having fun with my best friend.

The clearing of someone's throat caught my attention, halting me from twirling under Pope's arm. He was finally giving in, actually enjoying the silly dance. My hands still clasped tightly in Pope's, I look over to see JJ standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

"John B's back, let's go," he says quickly and walks away even quicker. Exchanging a look with Pope, both of us not sure what's up with our friend, we just shrug. It's probably just one of his moods.

Following JJ onto the HMS Pogue, I sit down at the bow of the boat, minding my step as I leap over the gas canisters. JJ had somehow convinced John B to steal from our boss, Ward Cameron. It felt wrong and that's because it is wrong.

I didn't want to agree with JJ, but in some twisted way, he was right. You never see rich kids going to foster care. And with the way, Peterkins was threatening us to not go near the marsh, it means she knows something. Something is down there in that wreck, and we have to be the first one to find out what it is.

Dad used to say that the OBX is America on steroids. You have your haves and have-nots, just multiplied. It's a rigged system we have here. One that makes the rich richer and poor poorer. And with no dad and no money, John B and I have no chance in life. Unless we make it on our own, away from the system.

Since Scooter body was found in the marsh yesterday, the whole body of water that surrounds the island just gives me a bad vibe. Maybe cause it sunset, and the winds are getting nippier or maybe I'm just freaked out because someone died. I don't know. But what I do know this that the marsh is the last place I want to be right now.

"This is empty," Kie complains, looking at my brother who is sitting beside her, "you took empty cans?"

"This one's a quarter full," I say before John B could interrupt, but even at that Kie still complains, "That's only enough for one of us."

"Do any of you even know who to dive?" I ask, moving to sit beside Pope at the wheel. I feel like this question should have been answered before we stole from my boss, but when do we ever think anything through. What I am saying is that there is no way that I am getting in that water, let alone diving down into a dead guys wreck.

"It's kinda a Kook sport," JJ finally answers after pointing back and forward with John B.

"I've read about it."

"Great, Pope read about it, so someone's gonna die," Kie nod sarcastically at her friends comment. I mean out of everyone here, Pope reading about it is more than what anyone else on this boat know. The boy next to me just looks out into the marsh, embarrassed after Kie comment. Placing a hand on his knee, I send him a smile hoping to cheer him up.

"Look, you put the thing in your mouth and breathe," JJ reasons, not understanding that there is more to diving than that.

"Well, if you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood," Pope begins to inform us as I wince at the information, "and you get the bends."

JJ, still not understand what Pope is talking about, he holds onto the pole in front of him and bends over in a laughable position, "Bends like," he strains his voice as his back cracks, "bend over and-"

"The bends kill you."

"Right."

"I can dive," John B announces confidently, but the tone of his voice is telling me another story. Watching JJ nod in agreement with a John B, he's only happy because it's not him that has to go down there.

"No, you can't," I object looking at my brother, "remember that one-time dad took you snorkelling, and you got a nosebleed," I start laughing, remember that day like it was yesterday.

The local pool had just officially opened, and they had an arrange of clubs for the kids on the island to sign up to. One of them being snorkelling. John B was stoked, claim that he had always wanted to snorkel despite never mention it once in his 6 years of living.

I was just peaceful eating my doughnut, watching as the kids my age flapped around in the average-sized pool. Two seconds later, however, they were all screaming and running for the hills except for John B. Not understanding why all his new friends had run away in terror until he saw the crimson colour that danced around in the water.

The entire building had to be evacuated, so the pool could get cleaned. Let's just say that John B never went back to snorkelling club. One good thing came out of that day however, my doughnut. I've never had one like that since.

"I was 6," he argues, still looking determined as ever, "I'll do it," he says.

"Let me do some calculations real quick," Pope says, ripping a page out of his book, pulling a pen out of fine air. He began to write, "So, that boat's about 30 feet down. So, it will take 25 minutes at that depth. Which means you need to make your safety cheek at about ten feet. For two minutes."

I look at Pope calculation in wonder, is this what I missed out on in the Math Team. John B was trying his best to remember all the information that Pope was throwing at him. I glad he's taking it seriously; I don't want my brother to get the bends. I don't have enough money for a medical bill.

The movement of Kie taking off her shirt caught all our attention. All of us watching with confused eyes as she jumps off the boat, into the marsh, "What was that all about?" John B asks.

"I don't know," JJ wonders before looking at me, "but I like it. A lot."

Why is he looking at me?

"Me too," I admit, moving over to the scuba gear, wanting to help John B get it on. Turning around, all I'm met with was curious eyes, "What?" I question, not understanding the sudden silence.

John B just shakes his head, moving towards me to put on the gear. Helping secure the tank to his back, JJ finally speaks up again, "When you're down there, you look for the cargo hold," he explains and holds out a small key, "You stick this thing inside and twist and pull, okay?"

"Stick in, twist, pull."

"Hey!" a voice call out from the water, "I tied my shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down," Kie says, John B just looking at the girl confused, "It's where you need to do your safety stop," she explains like she's talking to a child. To be fair he does act like one sometimes.

Making sure he is strapped in properly, I grab the monitor attached to the tanks, "Please keep an eye one this Johnny B," I say, showing him how much air, he has, "You need to have enough air to decompress."

John B just looks at me worried, but I place a comforting hand on his shoulder, "You'll be fine," I reassure, "Just don't breathe a lot."

I move to stand beside JJ, just for him to move away from me, 'What is up with him?' "Think zen, you know?" JJ suggests with exaggerated breaths, showing what zen mines in his mind.

Sitting at the control of the boat, my knees resting against the panel, I watch Kie march her way over to my brother. Thinking she was going to tell him he's stupid, I prepare myself for the show, but when she kisses him on the cheek I almost vomit. What? Since when was this a mutual thing?

Sharing glances with Pope and JJ, I see that they're just as confused, both their faces scrunched up at the affection.

"Diver down?"

"Diver down."

Watching as John B jumps down into the marsh, I salute him, "Diver down," I try to smile but I have that feeling in my stomach. Somethings not right.

Once John B was fully submerged by the marsh, the boat fell into an awkward and suspenseful silence. What is wrong with everyone? Kie's sitting at the edge of the boat, probably worrying about John B. Pope is staring intently over her shoulder doing the same. But JJ. JJ is standing at the back of the boat, playing with his rings. He hasn't looked, let alone spoke to me since John B got back.

"What's up with you?" I finally asked, his abnormal silence being unsettling to me. Nothing changes, he just continues to ignore me, clearly finding his hands more interesting than talking to me.

"What's wrong?" I ask again, but the blonde just shake his head, "It's clearly something, you're ignoring me." I stop beating around the bush. Even when JJ is in one of his moods, he still finds it in himself to talk to me and tell me what wrong, but today I can't tell what's got him in such a bad mood.

"It's nothing," he snaps, now looking at me with nothing but anger flaring in his eyes, "Just drop it, Mason."

Mason. What happened to May?

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I spin around, my back facing him. Looking up I earn looks from Kie and Pope which I just shake my head at. Turning my eyes towards the marsh, just wanting John B to come back.

The altering whoop of a siren breaks through the tense air. Coming our way in a rubber boat is two cops. Shit.

"Guys, that's the police," JJ points out what everyone can see.

"Yeah, no shit" I snarl at the boy, trying to move from my spot as subtle as possible, "Guy I'm not supposed to be on the marsh," I whisper, peering over the steering wheel at the cops that are slowly approaching.

Cursing under her breath, Kie grabs my arm and moves me to the edge of the boat, "Hide under the boat," she says before helping me lightly dip into the water, not wanting to cause an obvious ripple.

The warm water usually feeling comforting, now feels completely disgusting. A man died like two feet away from where I'm floating. Trying to block the thought from my memory, I squeeze my eye close and pinch my nose before ducking fully under the boat.

It's not a secret that I'm not the best swimmer, I only learned properly a few years ago. And even at that, I don't actively enjoy diving into open banks of water just for fun. I know that this moment it's detrimental that I don't get caught. Peterkins has probably told every cop on the island about our talk this morning, and I'm not about to get caught. Especially by Shoupe, whose voice I can hear above the surface.

"So, where's trouble?"

"Who?"

"Mason. Don't you guys usually hang out with her?"

Kind of like John Bs relationship with Peterkins, I have a similar one with Shoupe. Not by choice. He just happens to be the cop that always catches me. I don't do it on purpose and besides the last big thing that Shoupe had to turn me in for was the Komodo Dragons. Everything after that has just been minor inconveniences. Naturally earning me the nickname of trouble.

I've never been in a cell before, and I don't ever plan to be put in one either. It's just- when you live the way we do; you have to find your own fun. For example, what we are doing right now. It not exactly breaking the law, but it's not in line with their code of conduct. Also, I don't think Shoupe has the heart to put me in a cell. He might joke about it, at least I hope he's joking, but he would never actually do it. He has a bit of a soft spot for me, especially after my dad went missing.

The constant need to kick my feet in order to stay afloat is starting to take its toll on me. My legs are numb, the hand that I have gripping the bottom of the boat is slipping and I don't know how much longer I can hold my breath for.

Trying to push past my dizziness and ignoring the tiredness that is trying to take over my body, I hear Shoupe's protruding voice speak again, "Beautiful day."

Thinking is wasting too much of my running low energy, but when I hear the engine of the other boat start up again, a wave of relief rushing over me. Watching as the air bubbles push their way through the marsh water, the shadow of the boat getting further and further away.

Using the last of my energy, I swim up towards the surface, my lungs squeeze under the pressure of no air. As soon as I broke the tension of the water and breathed in the warm evening air, a rush of relaxation floods my body.

Floating on my back, I hear the relief coming from my friends, "May, are you okay?" I hear JJ ask, but I only care about one person right now.

"Where's John B?" I begin to panic, realising that my brother hasn't come up yet. He definitely ran out of air. With erratic eyes, I skim the marsh looking for a single sign of where he is, "Where is he."

Seeing the ripples in the water, I swim tirelessly towards them. Watching as John B emerges from the surface again, I let out a sound of relief, "Don't scare me like that, you idiot," I splash water in his direction.

"Did you find anything?" JJ asks John B, running to the back of the boat. Letting me go up first, I except the hand that JJ is holding out for me. I give him a small smile before making my way over to Kie how had her arms open for me.

My teeth chittering cause me to hold the girl tighter, my chin resting on her shoulder, trying to steal her body heat. Looking towards the setting sun, watching as the gulls dive for fish, I notice something come towards us. Squinting at the sight, I quickly realise it was another boat.

"Hey, guy? Boogie, two o'clock," I announce, moving away from Kie to get a closet look, halting the cheering of John B's finding, that was going on behind me.

"Do you recognise that boat?" Pope throws out the hopeful question. Shaking my head, noting that I have never seen it before, "What are they doing here? The marsh is closed"

"Let not stick around to find out," JJ concludes, not liking the idea of another boat being on the marsh. It a bit hypocritical of us to judge anyone who didn't listen to the sheriff's rules, but I really don't like the look of the two men that are making their way t over to us.

"JJ, help me with this," I ask, rushing over to the bowline, pulling up the anchor with the help of the boy, "Don't wait for us. Just go," I urge John B to start driving, not wanting to meet the figure on the boat.

"I got it," I hear JJ whisper, taking the wet anchor out of my hands after noticing I was struggling to hold it.

"Maybe they're fishing," I hear Pope wish as I run over to John B, throwing a quick glance over my shoulder, "Or maybe they're following us," I suggest, more like state the truth noticing that the boat was tailing us out of the marsh.

"John B, please go faster," Kie begs, not happy with the pacing of our boat, "I'm going! Act natural."

Looking back at the men on the boat, them being a good 20 feet away now allows me to see their faces more clearly. There is something oddly familiar about their brawniness. Both wearing all black, a bad choice in the Outer Banks if you ask me. Both very scruffy-looking, with uncut hair and beards that need a serious trim.

The smaller of the two reaches down for something just out of my sight. But when he stands back up, I knew what it was right away, "Get down," my timing just on the beat as he takes his first shot.

Grabbing the person closest to me, I pull them down to the deck, our backs pressed against the floor. My hand clasped tightly over my ears, I turn to my left to see JJ laying close to me, "You good?" he shouts over the sound of the amplified engine. Going to nod my head, but I get interrupted by another shot being aimed in our direction.

Pressing myself further against the floor, I watched as Kie runs to the back of the boat, "Kie get down," I shout, as another shot is fired at us. Watching with a wary eye as Kie grabs the old fish tangled fishnets, wobbling over to the edge. Shots still continuously coming our way, before Kie throwing the net with force into the water.

The sound of the net getting tangled in our follower's engine brings a wave of relief through my body. Pushing myself back onto my feet, I look back at the two men now stuck in the marsh. Definitely familiar. John B didn't slow down, turning the boat just in time around the bend before another shot could land.

"Oh my God!" Kie laughs out, running her hands throw her hair, "That was insane."

"Pogue life, man," JJ cheers, raising both arm over his head. Understanding the feeling, I sit down on the edge of the boat, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I can't believe we were just in a boat race being shoot at.

The ride back home was filled with adrenaline and giggles. All of us felt on top of the world. Like no one could stop us. But I still can't shake away the fact that those two men looked familiar. They definitely weren't from here, from their stance to them shot a gun at a group of kids on a boat. It just doesn't feel right.

I hadn't even realised that we had pulled up to the dock until I felt a tap on my shoulder. The marsh was now shining a deep blue. An unsettling feeling coming from the sudden overcast that roamed above us. Shake my daydream away, I go to step off the boat, but a hand circling my wrist stops me.

"I'm sorry for back there-" JJ apologises, scratching the back of his neck, struggling to keep steady eye contact with me, "-I was, uh, y' know, uh."

Wanting to hear what he was going to say, I try my best to keep the smile that I can feeling creeping on my face away. Raising my eyebrows at the boy, wanting him to continue. For some reason watching the usually cocky JJ stutter over his word is very entertaining and endearing to witness. I don't know why whatever happened back on the marsh happened, but with the way JJ is struggling to splutter out an apologue, gives he the feeling he doesn't either.

"I'm sorry," he manages to say again, letting out a rigid breath.

Against popular belief, JJ and I have never fallen out. Never had a serious argument. Never had any sort of conflict between us. Our friendship has always been smooth sailing. Sure, we've had disagreements, but it ends at that.

With a personality as strong as JJ's, you are bound to but heads sometimes. He does stupid shit, and I've told him this. But does that stop him? No. It often just leads to him pulling me down with him. And I'm not complaining.

JJ and I are very similar but also completely different. We complement and contract with each other. I know his limits and he knows mine. I know what a typical JJ thing to do is and JJ knows what a typical Mason thing to do is.

We might but heads sometimes and tease each other, but JJ genuinely blow up in my face earlier and it was different. I didn't like it. JJ has always been on my side. I like to believe that we have a relationship where we can tell each other anything. If he isn't comfortable with telling me what had him so stressed back on the boat, then that's fine. I won't push him. He doesn't have to tell me everything. I'm just happy he apologised.

My silence must have been unsettling for him, watching as he picks at the edge of his t-shirt, "So, we good?" he asks, his voice sounding as uneven as his thoughts.

"I'll think about it," I tease, blinking innocently at the boy. A small smile creeping onto his face, knowing that we're cool now. Looking over at the dock, I spot, John B, Pope and Kie all waiting for us, "Race ya'" I laugh, darting off the boat, running as fast as I can up the dock.

"That's so not fair," I hear him yell from behind me, the sound of his feet pounding of the deck pushing me to run faster.

"Beat you," I cheer triumphantly, giggling at him when he eventually caught up. "That because you cheated," he whines, flicking me on the nose causing me to push him away slightly. A smile permanent on my face when I feel JJ wrap an arm around my shoulder.

All standing around John B who had placed the black duffle bag from the boat onto the deck, we eagerly watching him unzip the bag, "What do you guys think it is?" Kie asks, excitement still lacing her voice.

"Gotta be money, right?"

"If it's not imma be pissed."

"Could be a couple of keys with street value of a low- to mid-mils!"

We all let out our expectations, the atmosphere high, "Can we please just open the bag!" Pope snaps, our cheerfulness coming to a sudden halt. Shocked by the outburst.

"Wow, Pope," John B gaps, looking up at the boy with impressed eyes, "That's a rare outburst of emotion."

"Yeah, something you want to talk about, Pope?" I ask, false sympathy radiating from my tone as I joke with him.

"You guys are literally killing me with anticipation," Pope whines, his eyes screaming with his pleas, "Open the bag."

I can't argue with his anticipation, almost want to rip the back out of John B hands. How long does it take for someone to unzip a bag?

Finally, John B pulls something out of the dripping wet bag. Another bag. Untying the smaller bag, a silver time capsule falls into his hands. Twisting of the secure cap, the excitement leads me to lean forward, wanting to see what we had almost risked our lives for. It better be worth it.

My gaze softens when I see what lays in John B hands. Kneeling down beside him, I gently take it from his hands, pressing the button delicately, watching at the lid pops open. Ignore the complaints that I hear coming from my friends, I turn to John B, looking for any sign that what we have is what I think it is.

It is.

"What? It's not worth anything."

"This was our fathers."

It was my father's compass.

Chapter Five: FIN!

Ummmmm Hi again... I don’t know if anyone still cares for this fic but I’ve had this in my draft for months and I kinda want to start this back up again because writing the first few chapters geniunely made me so happy and I want to feel that again, so yeah... surprise!

Mason and Pope are cute don’t you think. I want her to have good relationship with all the characters and I want to show that and not just tell, so expect flashbacks and fluffy moments from baby pogues.

I loved writing the scene with Peterkins and the twins, I wanted to show you their dymanic and playfulness especially since I have a rocky future planned for them...

What did you think?

I hope you enjoyed this long-awaited chapter <3

I’m going to start my taglist again, so if you’d like to be tag in future chapters just let me know and I will for sure do that!

Lots of love,

Daisy <3

[artificialqueens]

Flower Files, Part 1 (Tatiadore, Biaja) - Albatross

AN: A collection of short oneshots. Each one has a flower/plant theme. I’ll be posting them on AQ in batches of 2-3 depending on length.

Chapter 1: Tatiadore

Tatiana awoke to the sound of birds distantly chirping away outside her window and the warm rays of the sun beginning to light up her room. It was all very pleasant, especially for what was supposed to be a quiet Sunday at home with her girlfriend. Groggily, she stumbled out of bed and wandered over to their shared dresser. Her mind was still sleep-addled but something was trying to capture her attention. It was a brief whiff of some strange scent but in an instant,  it was gone. No matter how hard Tatianna tried to refocus on it, it had just disappeared. 

But that caused her attention to drift to another development…elsewhere in the apartment, there was another scent arising; that of cooking food.

A soft smile arose to her lips; Adore was making breakfast and from the smell of it, something with sweet peppers, onion and egg…perhaps a western omelette, or maybe just scrambled?

Hurrying to the bathroom, Tatianna resolved to take a quicker shower than normal. Usually she would stay in there for a good 20 minutes and just let herself relax under the spray but the delicious scent of breakfast waiting for her in the kitchen made her realize that she was utterly starving. And even more so, she just wanted to pull Adore into her arms once again, especially since she didn’t have a chance to upon first waking up.

So in record time, she had her teeth brushed and the shower warming up but while the bathroom steadily filled with steam, Tatianna realized that strange scent from before was somehow in here as well. This time it was stronger and lasted long enough for Tatianna to realize it was rather floral, but soon, thanks to the fan she had turned on in anticipation of a hot shower, the smell had disappeared once again.

Oh, well.

A brief 8 minutes later and Tatianna was clean, awake, and had changed into a fresh set of clothes; a simple cami and shorts ensemble but it was comfortable and cute.

Feeling much more like her normal self, she bounded into the kitchen to greet her girlfriend. Adore was still standing in front of the stove, poking her spatula at something sizzling in the pan and a cup of steaming tea close by on the countertop. She heard Tatianna arriving and spun around halfway to shoot her a warm, cheery grin. “Hey, baby,” she called out, not sounding entirely awake herself.

Tatianna was beginning to return the greeting but something caught her attention yet again; that same scent! It was here! But where…and why?

Adore caught the shift in Tatianna’s expression; it was so sudden and such an adorable mixture of confusion and concentration that Adore had to laugh. “Tati, baby,” she asked through her laughter, “what’s with that face?”

Distractedly, Tatianna wandered around the boundaries of the kitchen, sniffing here and there, while giving a vague reply of “I smell something…In the bedroom and bathroom…now here.”

“Breakfast?” Adore offered up, gesturing to the nearly finished food in her pan.

Shaking her head, Tatianna said, “No, not that…it’s like, flowery but not flowers…” She didn’t know just how to explain it, even now she was only catching short bursts of the scent, but it didn’t smell quite natural…no, more like a man-made attempt at a floral scent…in fact, it smelled a bit like- “you!” she exclaimed, finding the scent strongest near her girlfriend.

True, the smell of food covered it up quite a bit but it was definitely originating from Adore!

Puzzled, Adore murmured a soft, “Mm?” and stirred the food in the pan one last time before turning off the heat. Remember her own deviation in routine that morning she recalled, “Oh, yeah. I got some new perfume and wanted to try it out today…Rose. Like it?”

She glanced up to her girlfriend with the brightest, proudest smile…Nothing in the world could convince Tatianna not to return the gesture. Pressing a soft kiss to Adore’s lips, she answered, “Love…you.” Adore pouted. She really thought Tatianna would like the perfume more but oh, well. To each their own.

Tatianna wrapped her arms around Adore’s waist as she began splitting up the pan’s contents between the two plates in front of her. She nuzzled into Adore’s neck, loving the feel of her girlfriend’s body melting into hers, but she couldn’t resist letting one last comment slip out. Pressing another sweet kiss to Adore’s skin, she murmured, “And I’ll love you even if you wanna smell like an old lady every day.”

Snorting, Adore nearly doubled over as she tried to brace herself against the counter. “Well, fuck you, too, bitch,” she laughed out. “I like it though.”

Chapter 2: Biaja

It was about 2 in the afternoon when Raja’s phone began to buzz. Even without looking she already guessed it’d be her girlfriend. Tonight was supposed to be one of their stay-at-home date nights. Every month or so, they picked out a Friday where they would just spend a romantic evening at home, rather than going out to fancy restaurants or even double date with another couple. It was a chance to spend some quality time together, which had gotten a bit more difficult due to hectic work schedules.

‘Heyy!’ came Bianca’s first text. ‘Want me to pick up anything special for tonight?’

Raja smiled to herself. They already had their meal planned out; Raja would pick it up on her way home. Bianca had taken charge of finding dessert and figuring out which new movie release to watch. There didn’t seem to be much else that hadn’t already planned for…except perhaps one thing they both would enjoy.

Opening the text box, Raja quickly typed out ‘Rose’ but after staring at it for a good 10 seconds, it just didn’t look right.

Oh, right , Raja mused to herself, it’s missing the little accent thingy.

Finding the symbol was easy enough in her phone, the trouble was getting it over the ‘e’. No matter how she tried typing it out, the accent would appear as its own character either before or after the ‘e’ but never above. 

How do people do this? she stressed. She’d seen Bianca figure it out before so it can’t be that difficult. Eh, whatever. She knows what I mean.

And with that, she sent off the text to her partner. In less than a minute, Bianca replied back with a simple, ‘👍🏻’. 

Smiling to herself once again, she thought, Yeah, she gets me.

With that minor detail resolved, she returned back to her work, letting her mind drift every so often to how delicious their food was going to be or how much she was looking forward to emptying out that new bottle of wine during the movie.

******

With two oversized takeout bags and her purse in hand, Raja maneuvered the front door open as carefully as she could manage. She had made it only three steps inside before Bianca came rushing from the kitchen to meet her, one hand hidden behind her back. Raja was twisted around, unable to notice the odd behavior at first, and trying to close the door behind her. In the end she found herself having to settle on merely shunting the door closed with her foot and ignoring the loud clash as it met with the doorframe. Shifting back around to face her girlfriend, they shared a brief kiss as Bianca relieved her of one of the bags.

As they parted, a grin present on both of their lips, Bianca greeted her with a rather cheerful, “Hey, how was your day?”

“Great,” Raja replied, already feeling herself beginning to relax after such a long week and returned with an interested, “Yours?”

“Perfect,” Bianca beamed back. Very casually, she added in, “Picked up what you asked for.”

The statement immediately caught Raja’s attention. Perking back up, she questioned expectantly, “Yeah?”

Looking ever so proud of herself, Bianca withdrew the hand she had kept behind her back and presented Raja with a single long-stemmed, light pink rose. Snorting and nearly doubling over with laughter, Raja muttered to herself, “Oh my god.”

“Something wrong?” Bianca asked as her head tilted just slightly. Her brow was slightly furrowed in confusion, making her look utterly adorable in Raja’s eyes.

Through her laughter, Raja managed to explain, “Yes, no- I mean…I was trying to type out rosé and I couldn’t get that little dash thing over the ‘e’. So I just gave up and sent you, well, ‘rose’ instead.”

A look of guilt washed over Bianca’s face as she apologized, “Oh…I’m sorry, honey.”

Wrapping her free arm around Bianca’s waist, Raja pulled her in close and placed a quick peck to her cheek. “Don’t be, it’s my fault,” she assured her partner in a soft, amused voice. “Should’ve just sent a couple of wine emojis.”

“Yeah, that would’ve been much clearer,” Bianca agreed as her trademark smirk reappeared on her lips. Gently pulling away, she grabbed onto Raja’s hand and began leading her towards the kitchen. “Let’s get everything on plates and then we can eat. Dessert’s already laid out and the movie is set up in the living room.”

Raja followed closely behind with an eager grin but found herself stopping just inside the entryway to their kitchen. Laid out on the counter was no less than three bottles of her favorite brand of rosé. All of it was artfully surrounded by even more of those light pink roses and a few carefully scattered petals.

“Oh my god,” Raja gasped, grinning from ear to ear at the sight. Bianca truly does understand her.

Unfortunately that realization and moment of warmth was quickly interrupted by Bianca’s cackling of, “‘Little dash thing’?”

“Shut up!” Raja joked, laughing along with Bianca as they both set their bags onto the counter. “I tried, okay!”

“I’m sure you did, honey,” Bianca teased. “Pull out your phone and I’ll show you again how to do it.”

Retrieving her phone from her purse, Raja complained despite her ever present smile, “Still don’t understand how you figured it out before me.”

“Well, sweetheart,” Bianca mocked, “I might be shallow sometimes, but I’m not a complete idiot, at least not with my phone…or you.”

[rae-gar-targaryen]

of retro-tech and rhapsody [p.p.]

A/N: This is my entry for @starksparker Summer Writing Challenge! Thank you for letting me do this, Kaylee! 

Takes place while Peter and the gang are still at school. I’m ignoring “Endgame” and “Far From Home,” so it’s spoiler-free! Includes references to Peter’s Civil War-era scrounging. 

Prompt: “For someone so smart, you’re an idiot.” 

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!Reader (I kept her vague enough, sans references to a few hobbies and musical taste).

Warnings: Language. Jumpy plot? So much awkward cotton-candy fluff you may just rot your teeth. Sorry. 

Word Count: 3.4k of baked good simile, teenage awkwardness, and musical snobbery. 

Summary: Dumpster diving wasn’t a good look for most boys. Most of them. But then again, most boys didn’t make you a good, old-fashioned loverboy mixtape.  

**NOT MY GIF!** 

–

Okay, so. Here’s the deal: You most certainly were not the type to gossip. You really weren’t. The clique-ish chatter of your classmates and passersby floating through your ears like the twittering of so many small birds, muffled like cotton balls in your ears. 

It’s not that you were a bad listener. Nah. You actually considered yourself a good listener. You just weren’t that interested in the conversational equivalent of small-dick-energy. Small minds discuss people, so they say… 

Besides, rumors were pernicious. Especially those perpetrated by bored teenagers, the girls’ perfectly-filed nails so much like demon’s talons, the boys’ whispering and snickering like the hissing of snakes. All attempting to perforate your uninterested sensibilities. 

Whatever. Whatever the topic was today, you just weren’t interested. Until– 

“I heard Flash threw him in. What other reason would he smell like a dumpster?”

“Maybe he just doesn’t, ya know, shower?” 

“No way. Flash can’t toss him in alone. He’d need help. Besides, I think he went in there, like, voluntarily.”

“He doesn’t smell. You just saw him coming out of the alley.” 

“Ew. You mean to tell me that Peter Parker is a– a dumpster-diver?” 

The mention of Peter’s name caught your interest. Peter was a tech-type with a seemingly contradictory creative streak. You had often wondered where he had picked up the old school gadgets he sometimes had tucked under his arm as he hurried to and from the science lab or the A.V. room, Ned Leeds in tow, talking a mile a minute about – some thing or another. 

You were almost certain the term “motor mouth” was coined with Peter in mind.  

You turned your head to hear who was talking, only to be met with a table full of Flash Thompson’s hangers-on. 

Of course. Flash Thomson’s weird hate-boner for Peter Parker was well known among your class. And probably the teachers, too. 

You didn’t understand. What was to dislike about Peter Parker? He was perfectly sweet, sweetly smart, smartly perfect. 

Okay, maybe you had a little thing for Peter Parker. But only just a little. You had, what? Two classes together?

Besides, you were too busy for boys. It’s 2k19, for God’s sake. You had soccer, studying for the SATs, you helped out your parents. You liked to read. It’s not that you weren’t interested in the pursuit of a certain sweet, stuttering boy with coffee curls and eyes flecked with gold. 

Dear god. When did you become a poet? Scratch that. When did you become a terrible poet?? Be still your heart, Keats. 

Rolling your eyes, you smacked your empty lunch tray for good measure as you got up, catching the attention of some of Flash’s “Mob.” 

“Maybe you should chill on being trash who trash-talks? You sure you don’t belong in the dumpster?” You replied primly. Not chancing a glance back, or waiting for a snarky response, you turned, dropping your tray in the designated area and walked out. 

Mic drop, assholes.

—

Peter stared after you from his corner table, basking in the glory of your grand exit. He didn’t hear what you had said. But judging by the disbelieving stares that followed you, it must’ve been good. Flash’s hangers-on looked after you, a few then turning their attention to Peter’s table before going back to their lunch, mouths agape.

Um, what? 

Peter had no clue what that could have been about. Whatever it was, he was almost certain he didn’t want to know. Unless– unless it had to do with you. Then he almost certainly did want to know. 

He would crawl over glass if it meant learning more about you. 

Okay, maybe not glass. He did get beat up on the regular, and even super-fast healing and super strength didn’t mean that the sensations that came from small-time ass kickings was enjoyable. 

Mr. Stark told him that finding the girl he liked would hit him like, what was it? Oh, yeah …

“A punch to the gut, Pete. You’ll never see it coming. Not even with that little, uhhhh, tingly little super-sense you’ve got goin’ on.” 

Punch to the gut indeed. Just the sight of you was enough to make Peter stammer, even moreso than usual. Sweat a bit more than usual. Especially today, what with his latest acquisition burning a proverbial hole in his backpack. 

His morning excursion had yielded a perfectly good Walkman. Who would toss that in the dumpster? A little fine-tuning and it should be good to go. He’d been acquiring retro stereo equipment for some time. A little trip to the junk store for a blank cassette, and he was home free. 

His heart sang at the cleverness of his plan. Burning you an old-school mixtape seemed like the perfect way to tell you how he felt. How he’d been feeling since ninth grade bio, making a gradual mental catalogue of your band shirts. Of the books you thumbed through while waiting for class to start. 

Yeah, he knew exactly what was going on that tape. 

“Hey, loser.” Peter whipped his head at the dead-pan to the left, meeting MJ’s shrewd eyes and perpetually downturned mouth from her corner of the table. “What’s up with your stupid moon-face?”

“Uh, what?”

“If you stared any harder at her, you may burn a hole.” 

“I don’t — who? Stared at who?” Peter panicked. Surely MJ couldn’t know. If MJ knew, did that mean he was being obvious? Oh, crap. 

“For someone so smart, you’re an idiot. Lucky for you, I’m not. Just say something. She’s super nice, you know. She’d talk to you.” 

“Thanks, MJ. I think?” Peter’s brow furrowed at the minor insult, which stung less considering it was wrapped in the warm velvet of MJ’s hyper-observant encouragement. 

Just talk to her. Like it was so easy. 

If he played his cards right, he’d let the tape do the talking. Peter loved it when a plan came together. Take down the bad guys, take down his homework, take down this special project, get the girl. 

— 

“Decisions, decisions, all of them wrong,” you hummed to yourself, perusing the sweet offerings through the bakery’s glass dessert case.

You stood under the ambient lighting in your favorite bakery. Post-practice you didn’t smell the best, but you’d put in work. You deserved a treat. RIP to the people behind you in line. 

“I hear the chocolate chip cookies here are the best.” 

You whipped around, only to be met with the cocoa-honey eyes of none other than Peter Parker. A true confectionary masterpiece. Suddenly, the items behind the case seemed less sweet by comparison. And–wait, was Peter Parker actually talking to you about something that wasn’t last night’s reading?

“Um, thanks for the tip!” You cursed yourself for your filler-word of choice. Um, um, um. You cursed yourself again for wearing your sweaty practice gear and grass-stained socks. Of all the times to run into him. “Yeah– I’m more of a lemon bar kinda girl.”  

Shit. Why did you say that? 

Peter just looked at you. 

“Oh.” 

Did he look— crestfallen? Did you offend Peter Parker? Shit, shit.

“What I mean is, I’ll go with your recommendation, but the cookies here are huge. Split it with me?” You offered.

Peter’s head whipped back up, his eyes cola swirls of excitement. His mouth split into a toothy grin.

Dear God. What you wouldn’t given to be the cause of that smile forever. 

Was Peter always literal sunshine? 

You paid for the cookie, breaking off a half and offering him the half in the bag. As you sank your teeth into a mouth full of cookie, the melted chocolate flooding your tongue, you asked, albeit not too politely, given that your mouth was full–  

“So, what are you doing over on this side of town? Don’t you usually go the other way?”

Peter blinked.

Nice one. Now he’s gonna think you’re a creep that, like, watches him leave? God fucking–

“Oh, just running an errand for Mr. Stark. I saw you through the window and thought I’d come say hey!” Peter chirped.

Ah. The Stark Internship. Of course. Peter probably thought you were the biggest idiot for forgetting. Everyone knew he had the Internship after school. Mercifully, Peter either didn’t notice your slight, or he didn’t care.

“What are you listening to?” Peter gestured at the earbuds poking out of the collar of your practice jersey. 

“Bohemian Rhapsody,” you shrugged. “Wanna listen?”

Peter nodded, vehemently. You slipped the buds from the bottom of your shirt, handing one to Peter, the opening piano keys trilling into your ears. Your eyes met Peter’s, and you felt your mouth form a little tip-lipped grin.  

The two of you stayed that way for the duration of the song, munching on your respective cookie halves. You wondered if there had ever been a more perfect moment in all of history? Sure, this was a little rom-com for anyone’s taste, but, hey. 

You would crawl over glass if it meant you got to listen to Queen while basking in the literal warmth of Peter Parker for eternity. 

The song ended, breaking your Freddie Mercury and chocolate-induced haze. Shit. The Stark errand. 

You decided to cut the string and let Peter escape this little interaction. You tugged the earbuds, effectively popping the one out of Peter’s ear. 

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I’ll let you get back to it! Don’t want to keep Iron Man waiting,” you said. “Thanks for the tip, by the way. This cookie is, like, magic.” 

Peter nodded, shuffling his feet a bit. He gave you a wave and bit out a truncated goodbye, shoving his mouth full of the remainder of the cookie as he exited the shop. 

What in the literal fuck. No, not literal. Don’t go there. Did you just share baked goods and an actual conversation with Peter? Did you share headphones with Peter? What is happening today?

If your heart beat any faster, it’d be doing the Roger Taylor drum solo to “Keep Yourself Alive.” If your blood could sing, it would be thrumming a trilled little thrill of your sweet, sugary little interlude.

—

Peter blew back into his apartment like a hurricane, buzzing with whatever that was. 

What had compelled him to speak up? He saw you standing there, looking a literal glowing angel in school colors and pulled-back hair, complete with beautiful post-exercise flush. And he just— he had to say something, MJ’s words ringing in his head. “She’d talk to you.” 

Peter pulled the refurbished Walkman out of his bag, along with a packet of cassette tapes colored neon pink. 

If he was giving you a little retro tech present, he was going full-stop, the neon piece of plastic screaming 1980s, screaming you. 

Fitting the blank cassette into the stereo, he hit “Record.” 

The following day, Peter hustled into school at a time that was, in his humble opinion, way, way too early, meeting Ned in the hallway. 

“Okay, guy in the chair. Did you figure out which locker is hers?” Peter asked.” 

“You know I did.” Ned pressed a slip of paper into Peter’s palm. 

Glancing quickly at the little shred, Peter stuffed it into his back pocket and jogged down the hallway, jimmying the lock on the locker in question until it gave way under his super-strength. As if it would catch fire at any second, Peter tossed the Walkman and tape into the locker, slamming the door shut and taking off down the hallway as quickly as he could, Ned at his heels.

“Smooth, Spider-boy. Smooth,” Ned laughed. 

—

Peter was going to die. 

Days went by. Literal days. Those pressed on into a week, and then two. Peter had heard nothing since dropping the tape in your locker. God, this was a mistake. He’s made a huge mistake. A huge, tiny mistake.

His self-doubt crept in like so many webs, suffocating his better sensibilities. Not that he’d tangled himself in his own webs before. Come on! 

—Okay, it was ONE TIME. And he’d had time to think about his carelessness while waiting for the webs to dissolve. 

But this was different. He was drowning in his uncertainty. Maybe he’d misread that day at the bakery. Maybe you were just being nice. Peter knew he wasn’t entitled to your attention after once interaction. He wasn’t that much of a hyper-masculine dick. 

Oh, shit. 

—

“Yo!” 

You turned, eyes landing on your teammate, Jessica Porter. 

“Jess. What’s up?”

“Hey, I found this in my locker a while ago. I meant to give it to you sooner, but, well–” Jess reached into her bag, pulling out a rectangular hunk of plastic affixed to 1980s-esque headphones. “Your name’s on the sticky note, and on the tape inside. I don’t know how it got to me, but it’s clearly meant for you.”

You took the Walkman from her hands, turning it over. No “From” on the sticky note to indicate who had gifted you this little vintage gem. Affixed to the back with some Scotch tape was the plastic holder for the cassette, the jacket within scrawled with writing that you just couldn’t place. 

“Uh, thanks, Jess. See you at practice?” You walked away, your brow furrowed, your mind moving at a mile a minute. 

After school, you slumped onto your bed. You popped the tape off the back of the Walkman, freeing the case.

As you slipped the jacket out of the case, you hit “Play” on the Walkman, the keyed-up opening to Jukebox the Ghost’s “Everybody’s Lonely” meeting your ears. 

You perused the scrawled writing on the jacket– it was a track list. Next to each track was a little  handwritten note jammed into each line. 

1. “Everybody’s Lonely”– Jukebox the Ghost. Because every song is about love. And because you like Queen.

2. “Radio Gaga”– Queen. Ditto. 

Your heart stopped. No, seriously, should you call 911? This couldn’t be – could it? Did Peter Parker make you an actual mixtape?? Had you hit your head today at practice, or something? The stars in your eyes and little bursts like so many Pop Rocks in your belly were so like happy little interpretations of your veritable disbelief. 

You had shared a Queen song and a sweet moment with Peter two weeks ago. Since then? Radio silence. But now? Radio Ga Ga. This had to be from him, right? Your eyes continued down the list. 

6. “Hong Kong Garden”– Siouxsie and the Banshees. I’d reap the field of rice and reeds if it meant an afternoon with you. 

7. “Humbug Mountain Song” – Fruit Bats. My heart thrums like a shitty hipster banjo solo.

8. “Left Hand Free” – Alt J. You looked so cute in your tour shirt Sophomore year. 

9. “Cover Your Tracks” – A Boy and His Kite. Heart, cover your tracks, the blood that you spill will wash what you lack.

The last song on the list, replete with a mix of everything from Bowie to Fleet Foxes, was—

14. “Given the Chance”– The Kite String Tangle. The note?

“Given the chance, I’d go for it. One step at a time. Will you give me a chance?”

It was then you knew. Peter Parker was pure happiness. A zipping burst of citrus on your tongue with a zing that shot straight to your heart. A powdered sugar kiss-and-touch. Syrupy warmth enveloping your spirits.  This gesture was beyond— well, anything. Your heart felt like so many folded paper birds, fluttering and faint, but solidified with purpose. 

You had words for Peter Parker. 

—

The next day you strode into school with purpose, only to be met with coffee curls awaiting you. Pacing at your locker was none other than Peter Parker. And he looked — panicked?? 

Before you could even say a word, Peter opened his mouth, a jumble of words flying out faster than his lips could form the words. 

“I am so, so sorry. I messed up…”

I messed up. 

Your heart plummeted. Was the tape for someone else? Before you could press, Peter continued, “I– I made you a mixtape. Y-you know, like, an actual mixtape. On a cassette and everything. The only problem is–” He hung his head. “I put it in your locker. Well, not your locker, obviously– I thought it was your locker. 1127? I put it in 1172.” He let out a huff of air at his rushed confession, refusing to meet your eyes, cheeks burning.  “I’m sorry.” 

You blinked. 

“You’re sorry?!” 

Peter looked up at you, quickly, flinching, expecting a tongue-lashing after your outburst. To his surprise, you just laughed. He blinked. Had he misread this so badly?

“Jessica Porter has locker 1172,” you explained. Peter continued staring at you, blankly. What did Jessica Porter have to do with anything?

“Jessica Porter and I have chem together. We’re on the soccer team. She’s super cool,” You explained. Peter remained unmoving, desperate to hear the point and why his apparent faux-paus was so funny to you. 

“Don’t leave me in suspense, here. Because, I’m like.. really, REALLY sorry,” Peter pressed. 

“The point is,” you slung your bag forward and over your shoulder, ripping the zipper open and withdrawing the Walkman. Neon pink cassette tape visible like a flash through the little plastic window. “I got your mix. Jess gave it to me. She thought it was cute, by the way. Sure you didn’t really mean to give it to her?” you teased.  

“O-oh. Cool, uh, but did you think it was cute?”

“Peter,” you sighed. “For someone so smart, you’re an idiot–” 

“MJ said the same thing…” 

“– It wasn’t cute, Peter.” 

His eyes got even wider if possible, the sting of rejection starting to set in– could he possibly have misread the situation so badly? What about your little date? Was it a date? Listening to Queen and eating cookies that day at the bakery? How had MJ steered him so wrong?

 He had done so well on the reading comprehension portion of his PSAT. But reading paragraphs about the migratory pattern of geese was very, very different from reading between the lines when it came to girls his own age. Any girls, really– he had to stop himself. Maybe they were right, maybe he was an idiot– 

“Peter, this is MORE than cute. This is the sweetest, nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I love it. Your taste in music, you… you get me,” you explained, pressing your hand into Peter’s, pressing the point. He could feel the touch, tingly sensations running through his palm, up his arm, and he swore, straight into his heart. 

Peter changed a glance at you through his lashes, lips splitting into a toothy, Peter Parker grin. 

You hoped he’d only smile at you like that forever. He truly was like the sun, bright and warming the coldest parts of you with the greatest of ease. Filling any hollowness with golden light. His bright eyes sparkled, permanently etched within the golden hour and you swore you forgot how to breathe. 

“Really?”

“I’d give you a chance, Pete. As many as you wanted.”  

Before he could respond, you leaned forward, quickly pressing your lips to Peter’s. It lasted a brief second – a dusting of sugar atop something crisp, sweet and citrusy– before pulling back. Sweet, but all too short, panic splicing through your moment of confectionery bliss that was kissing Peter Parker. 

“Sorry, sorry, Peter. I’m sorry. Was that too forward?? I–”  

You were cut off by Peter, lips firmly meeting yours. Peter’s hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs tracing over the peaks of your cheekbones. Any trace of awkwardness gone, Peter slid his hands from your cheeks — back, back, back— to run his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck, resting there. The tilt of his lips followed yours, sweet cinnamon heat – persistently welcome and welcomingly persistent. The golden hour indeed. 

Breathless– you were breathless. Could Peter Parker kiss like this always? You wished he would. Look at you, smile at you, kiss you – always. But, um, not with anyone else. Decidedly not. Just you, you hoped. The ebbs and flows of your personhood, the sweet contrast of your personalities, like a discord of so many notes coming together into one cohesive piece. This….

This? This was what rhapsody was. You were just sure of it.

—

So that’s it. I do have a complete playlist made for this story, if anyone is interested, I can send you the link.

Tagging: @starksparker @nappingtopknot @ayeayecaptaingally @andallthatmishigas @ymeradonnadx @hey-its-grey

Special s/o to @tigerlilynoh!

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker-Skip (1)

I don’t know if you’ve read the story about Skip and Peter? I read it a few weeks ago and I thought it would be cool to write something about it. Enjoy! This will be my new series; if you want to be tagged, let me now! I’ll post a new part (if this works) every Monday.

Plot: Peter’s new life couldn’t be better. College, aparment for himself, you. Still, Parker’s luck is not on his side, and the memories are coming back.

Warnings: it gets dark. Really dark, for Peter. Mentions of child abuse and rape. Angst, so much angst.

The sun was bright as Peter walked the sidewalk towards your new college, with his jacket thrown over his shoulder. He had managed to get out of class a few minutes earlier, even being the first day and all; so that he could pick you up and ask you about your day. A warm breeze combed through his hair, and birds flew around, chirping, both sure signs that summer was backing off and autumn was on its way. Peter worshipped its arrival, with its coldish weather and Halloween. You tucked on his side watching scary movies, planning awful pranks on the avengers together. He was smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt.

People around him chatted excitedly, and he saw the first students getting out of the building. A group of loud girls walked past him, and maybe in another place or time, he would have looked at them and blushed at their blanted looks. However, he had the most beautiful girl walking down the stairs in front of him, and he didn’t notice them.

You were easy to spot through the fence. The bright yellow blouse he had helped you to choose the previous night stuck out, hair pulled off your face with a high bun. Peter’s heart swelled with love when he noticed the small chain in your backpack, red and black with big white eyes. With a smile, Peter stepped up to meet you halfway, following the path that led to the front of your college.

“Hey”

Your head went up instantly after hearing his voice, and you saw a dorky looking Peter in front of you. He was wearing a white shirt with the first buttons undone, wanting to make a good impression in his own university. The backpack was hanging loosely from his side, and he was gripping one strap as if it was the first time he saw you.

“I, uh, I wanted to give you a surprise” he said, shifting his weight. “Got out early, thought you might like me picking you up. But I won’t do it again if-“

Peter was thrown a few inches forwards when your lips collided with him, arms around his neck and he chuckled softly. He felt your smile through the kiss, and the doubts about stepping over a boundary were long forgotten. The kiss lasted too little for his liking, and you were out of his arms in seconds.

You let out a excited giggle when you teared apart, jumping a little, happy to see your boyfriend’s face again. You were dying to tell him about your day, about your new classmates and hear about his.

“I want you to do this every day” you said, chin held high.

“Teachers won’t like that a lot” he laughed. “I had to get out early, but it was worthy”

Turning around, you gripped Peter’s hand and started telling him about your new classes. You were enthusiastic about the whole deal, and were almost bouncing with excitement; too busy to notice how Peter didn’t move an inch.

It felt as if the world stopped for him. The laugh got caught on his throat, it chocked him, it died, as Peter’s eyes landed on a man across the stairs. He was holding a big bag with papers, talking with another teacher he guessed while walking your way. His body went cold, and the air was filled with the smell of cheap aftershave and songs from cartoons. The group of girls that had been giving him eyes disappeared, you disappeared, and all that was left was Peter and a man with sandy hair.

Suddenly, he wasn’t in college, he was May’s apartment. He was watching cartoons and having cereals for breakfast. The disgusting smell of lemons filled his nostrils, and he could almost feel them. His hands, on his hips, on his chest, on his thighs. Peter crying, begging, so-

“Pete?” you pulled at his hands softly, wondering if he was even listening at you. You looked to where he had his wide eyes fixed, but only saw your Statistics teacher talking to the principal. “Bub, you okay?”

Peter blinked and shook his head, trying to put an smile for you. He took a deep breath and exhaled, looking away from the familiar man. Because that was it; he was just familiar, nothing else, nothing more. A look alike. It couldn’t be Skip, and his frenetic mind made a list of reasons; he moved far, far away. He wasn’t a teacher. His hair was longer. And, he couldn’t have been a whole day near you. Not there.

So, he just squeezed your hand and pulled you forward, almost dragging you out of the building.

“What was that?” you asked, frowning. You quickly forgot about your day or his. “Something wrong?”

“No, I’m fine. Fine. Just zoned out for a second” he said, words stepping over each other. “Do you want to Thai? I’ve seen a place near my university. Looks a bit shady, but-“

“Peter” you made him stop walking, and he finally looked at you.

In the middle of the busy streets, he felt much safer than in your university. Because he wouldn’t try anything in front of so many people; if he was Skip, which Peter didn’t want to believe. You looked at him worriedly, but he only grinned back. Placing both straps on his shoulders with rather shaky hands, he shrugged.

“Really, Y/N, is nothing. You know I tend to get lost in my head” he reassured you.

Of course, Peter Parker had a lot of years of practice in lying. He had lied to his aunt with the spiderman thing, and had tricked Mr Stark more than once when a patrol had gone too bad. And, well, even if he wasn’t proud of it, you didn’t find about his night activities until he decided to tell you. So it wasn’t difficult for him to make you believe that everything was alright, and start again the conversation about your classes.

Smiling again, you linked your arm with his and kissed his cheek, talking again about the first period. As you did so, Peter’s mind went back to the man. You walked to the Thai place; you ordered, waited for your food and Peter managed to tell you a little about his day without throwing up everything he had in his stomach. Because, the more he thought about him, the more similarities he found between Skip and him.

It was ridiculous.

He was far away, Peter was safe, you were safe, the world was safe without him. He had seen his car drive up the street with his little eyes, and May had assured him thousands of times when the nightmares came. Still, the thought kept ringing on his head for the whole lunch. When the dessert arrived, he decided to out and end to the anxiety.

“What are the names of your teachers?”

“Hm?” you asked, your mouth full of cream.

“You know the name of your teachers?” he repeated, swirling his spoon around the mint ice-cream that was making him sick.

“Hm, I suppose? I don’t know, I haven’t meet them all yet” you swallowed what you had in your mouth before talking again. “Why do you want to know?”

“I-I’ve heard there are common teachers between the colleges” Peter said, hoping you hadn’t noticed the stutter. “Just wanted to know if we might have one of those.”

“Oh, I didn’t know” you looked down at your cake, trying to remember some of the names. “There is-there is this woman called Mrs… Mrs Doubtfire.”

“What?” Peter squealed, and let out a loud laugh.

“Yeah, I thought the same!” you smiled, and pointed the spoon towards him. “And she kind of looks like the one in the film. Only that is really old and doesn’t know how to smile”

“At least it’s not Umbridge” he joked, feeling a little better.

“I think it’s worse” you sighed, taking another spoonful of your dessert. You offered it to Peter with a quick glance, but he shook his head. “An older girl had told us that she is always breathing down your neck, and that if she sees you going out on a Friday night, she’ll take one point from you.”

“She made that up” Peter snorted. “Please, tell me she just made that up.”

“I wish I could, bub” you rolled your eyes. “But she’s not the only one that had told us. There is the guy whose class is tomorrow that says it’s true”

“Another teacher?”

“Yeah, he’s kind of… weird, though. Doesn’t give me a good feeling” you said, not really caring about your words.

The guy had approached you in the corridor when you were walking to the third period, with a girl you had just met. Even if for her it had been normal, you had noticed something off about the blonde man. You had blamed it to Peter, whose paranoia had made a space on your heart.

But, while you didn’t care about it, it made Peter’s heart skip a beat.

“And… um, what’s his name?” he asked. Peter took a small bite of his ice-cream. It melted on his tongue, but wasn’t as good as it should be. Surprisingly, it tasted like lemon, and Peter gagged.

“I don’t really remember. Last name is Westcott, but I don’t know more” Peter almost threw the spoon to the floor, but caught himself before doing anything to startle you. “He teaches Statistic, first class on Tuesdays. I’ve heard he… gives candy when you get a question right. I’m not fond of the idea. But who am I to judge? Guy might be a total teddy bear.”

You went back to eating your cake and the knot of Peter’s stomach tightened. He held onto the table, hoping that you wouldn’t notice the way his knuckles were turning white, and hoping that if he held on tight enough, he wouldn’t be ripping away from the planet while his thoughts spun out.

Closing his eyes, he counted. Opening his eyes, he searched for the five objects. A lady’s purple purse. Black sauce scattered on the floor. Big lamp a little crocked. The blue necklace you were wearing. Waiters’ uniform. You had taken his silence as the end of the conversation, and you were happy to eat your food in peace. Tears pooled in Peter’s eyes and he wiped them out quickly, not wanting you to see them. But you did.

“Are you crying?” you frowned, spoon mid-way to your mouth.

“No, no. It’s just-brain freeze” he chuckled, and sighed in relief when the alarm in your eyes disappeared.

“I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to order an ice-cream” you teased, winking at him. “Someone so hot can’t handle the cold”

He tried to smile for you, to force the memories away. But he only managed to give you a small smirk.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter waited until he heard your heartbeat slow and your breath go back to normal to roll out from the warm covers of your shared bed. Renting an apartment with you had seemed as the logical decision. You were dating, studying in the same city and didn’t have enough money to afford something bigger. Peter had been shaking with happiness when he opened for the first time the wardrobe and saw your clothes beside his. But, as the anxiety consumed him, he wished for his old apartment, where May slept like a baby and he could sneak out.

He slipped on a plan black sweater without a hood and dark jeans, putting back the boxers that he had thrown a few hours before under the bed, too focused on undressing you to care. Peter ran to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror; dishevelled head, red and swollen lips and bright eyes. However, they were not from the love making, but from the need of letting all of it out.

Angry and frustrated, Peter turned around and walked back to the bedroom; stopping when he saw you sleeping soundly on your side. You were hugging a pillow, probably missing his body next to you. Even if he didn’t want to say it out loud, Peter was always the little spoon when you two slept. It made him almost regret his decision, seeing you sleeping so peacefully. He really wanted to be back in your arms; but he also wanted to safe, above everything and anything.

So he sneaked out.

It wasn’t Spider-man problem. He wasn’t trying to stop some robbery, or save some lady from nasty guys. No, it was Peter Parker’s business. Skip Westcott was Peter’s business, and keeping you safe from the thing he feared the most was also. The suit didn’t come with him that night, only the web-shooters so he could be back into your arms sooner.

Peter had found Skip’s address hacking into the school’s website, and Google Maps directed his way into the night.

There was a playground at the end of the street where he lived, and as Peter walked past, the wind blew through the chains of the swing set. He stopped and stared at the park. Even in the dark, the memories came back. Hands. Touches. Begging. Moaning. Pain. Thrusts.

He moved past it and didn’t stop again until he stood in front of the white fence surrounding the blue house. A nice park was in the driveway, and the yard had some flowers growing. No one would ever be able to tell what kind of person lived there.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

Tom Tags:

@delicately-important-trash

[solastia]

Break My Stride | 4

Pairing: Yoongi x Jungkook

Word Count: 4,109

Summary: Yoongi is an Omega that has managed to escape the annual mating run without an Alpha for seven years in a row. He has no plans for that to change, but he’s unaware of his latest opponent: the newly presented Alpha Jeon Jungkook, his very determined childhood friend.

AN: The end is here! I figured I would knock this last chapter out since it was almost done. I hope you all enjoyed this self-indulgent fic. I have a couple of extra chapter ideas I might add some time in the future. Like, one where I tell the Namjinseok pairing from their POV, and a chapter with Beta Jungkook’s pov, maybe a Vmin origin chapter...and I dunno. I had a couple more. Just saying this might not be the last we see of them. Enjoy! 

Waking up in Jungkook’s arms was something that he thought he could get used to easily. As soon as he opened his eyes he was face to face with the Alpha, the other’s appearance so innocent and peaceful in sleep. He took the chance to observe him at leisure, memorizing all the various moles and scars. 

“Watching people sleep is really creepy, hyung.” 

Yoongi sputters as Jungkook cracks open an eye, his lips turning up in a sleepy grin. 

“Shut up. I was just trying to figure out how to wake you up since you sleep like you’re dead.” 

Jungkook hums and scratches his belly. “Hmm, I’ve always wanted to wake up with your mouth on my co - “

Yoongi kicks him in the shin. “Yeah, I get it, shut up...maybe next time.” 

Jungkook giggles and rolls over on top of Yoongi, uncaring of their equally horrible morning breath as he kisses him sweetly on the lips. He pauses for just a moment before doing the same to the mating bite that was slowly healing on Yoongi’s neck. The spot tingled at the touch, the overwhelming depth of Jungkook’s feelings bleeding through the connection. It was going to take a lot of work to get used to that. 

“Mmm,” Yoongi hums deeply. “We should start heading back. I’m starving and they should have the good BBQ food trucks out today. They know we all worked up an appetite.” 

“We did,” Jungkook smirks, then his expression changes instantly, his eyes going impossibly wide. He nibbles at Yoongi’s shoulder as he stares up at him. “You should buy me meat, hyung. Buy me lamb skewers.” 

“I’ll give you some meat,” Yoongi grumbles playfully as he climbs off the bed, stretching his aching limbs. 

“I mean, I’m down for anything,” Jungkook giggles. 

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you’re horny in the morning, aren’t you?” 

Jungkook comes around the bed and wraps his arms around Yoongi’s waist, nuzzling into the Omega’s neck. 

“Just for you, hyung.��� 

“And sappy too,” Yoongi chuckles and turns his head to peck Jungkook on his cheek in consolation for tearing his arms off of him. 

“Grab your clothes, baby. We gotta go before Jin orders all the steak for himself. Let’s not forget the twenty orders of crabs and lobsters debacle of 2015.” 

The Alpha sighs, but it sounds so happy Yoongi looks at him curiously. He's looking all dreamy, with that dopey little smile again. 

“What?” 

Jungkook shrugs, “I like it when you call me baby.” 

Yoongi chuckles and throws Jungkook’s pants onto his face. The Alpha grumbles but eventually starts tugging his clothes on and straightening himself up. His bedhead flopped around cutely, unable to be tamed. 

Yoongi quickly got ready himself, tugging on his clothes and ruffling his hair a bit. He definitely needed a shower, but he settled for using the few toiletries he’d thought to bring - an extra layer of deodorant and a gargle of mouthwash, neither of which covered up the heady ‘just mated’ scent that emanated from his very pores. Not that he really minded. He rather enjoyed how their scents had blended together, creating something that smelled like a summer day with undercurrents of contented mates. Something he’d never thought he’d associate with himself. He was surprised at how much he was looking forward to showing off that he belonged to Jungkook. 

“What are we gonna do with all your other stuff here, hyung?” Jungkook asks as he hands Yoongi a water bottle from the chest. He takes a moment to chug the whole thing and tosses it into the garbage bag in the corner. 

“We’ll come back for it later tonight. There’s a trail not too far away that my car can reach and I’ll need the bedding to be able to get any sleep,” Yoongi grumbled, slightly annoyed at the very thought of being away from his nest for too long.

Newly bonded couples usually stayed near their nests for at least a week, and he was starting to realize why. He had to struggle through the slight panic he felt over being away from their “den”, temporary though it was supposed to be. His Omega was practically whining thinking of leaving the well-scented nest. The urge to just say fuck it and tackle Jungkook into the bedding was really strong. 

Yoongi went to the tunnel and waited as Jungkook tugged on his track jacket before he walked over and gestured towards him. 

“After you, hyung,” Jungkook waved towards the tunnel with a suspicious looking grin. 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes but shrugged, climbing into the tunnel. He scuttled along, maybe making sure his ass waved in front of the Alpha’s face a little more than was necessary. He yelped when Jungkook answered his challenge by biting him right on the ass. The other answered his glare with an unapologetic smirk before they continued their journey. 

Once they reached the end and crawled out, they helped each other clean off then started walking the same path they’d taken to get there. The weather was perfect - sunny with just a touch of breeze to make it bearable. The birds were chirping, squirrels running around on the branches. Add to that the moment when Jungkook slyly laced his fingers with Yoongi’s as they walked and it was a regular Disney moment. 

Since they were just walking it took a bit longer to reach the stream, and by the time they were there, Yoongi was getting tired. He stopped for a moment to stretch and kick some of the kinks in his ankles away. Jungkook suddenly walked in front of him and presented his back. 

“Hop on.” 

“What? We still have a bit and I’m heavy,” Yoongi protested with a wave. 

“You weigh next to nothing. Come on, baby. Sooner we get there, sooner you can buy me meat.” 

Yoongi sputters at the unexpected endearment, while Jungkook grins. 

“You like it too, huh? Noted.” 

Just to shut him up, Yoongi climbs onto the offered back, lacing his arms around Jungkook’s neck and winding his legs around the Alpha’s surprisingly thin waist. 

“Hold on, hyung.” 

And with that, Jungkook charges ahead, running at nearly full speed as Yoongi tries to hold on without squealing. Suddenly, it’s not that surprising how Jungkook had caught up with him so fast if he could run like this even while he was carrying a whole other person. 

Because of Jungkook’s ridiculous stamina, they made the last stretch in half the time it would have taken Yoongi alone. Just as they passed the final stretch of stream, the sounds of the Run event filtered through the trees. Many of the people had been here for hours already, waiting for the couples that had stayed in the woods overnight to rejoin their parties. This second day of the event was the biggest and was when everyone would take the chance to celebrate new joinings and make sure the new couples were fed well before they went on their way to their new homes. 

As soon as the official tables came into view, Jungkook gently helped Yoongi back onto his own feet and grasped his hand to pull him eagerly towards them.

Jungkook walked straight towards the first woman he saw with a clipboard, blindsiding the stunned woman with one of his lethal smiles while he wrapped an arm around Yoongi’s waist to pull him close. 

“Hi! We both need mating packets.” 

Yoongi rolled his eyes because he could tell that Jungkook was practically bragging instead of just asking like a normal person. 

The woman’s smile widened as she passed them the sign-out sheet and two big packets of paperwork. 

“Congratulations! You make a lovely couple. Your packet includes an instruction sheet and we’ve tried to make filling them out as painless as possible. Just remember to send them in within two weeks to avoid the fine. I hope you two have a happy union,” the official enthused, cooing whenever Jungkook would nuzzle into Yoongi’s hair. 

Jungkook signed out and passed Yoongi the board while he accepted the two bulging packets. Yoongi quickly scribbled his name, pausing for a moment to take it all in. This was it. He wouldn’t have to look at this dumb shit again. No more runs for him. He was free of it all and coming out with a good Alpha that was already his best friend. Not in a million years had he ever pictured this outcome, but he was so happy that Jungkook chose him. 

They don’t even bother looking for the others yet as both of them were absolutely starving, so they went straight towards the food trucks. After letting Jungkook enthusiastically pull him between four different trucks, they came away with two BBQ platters with ten lamb skewers on the side, a couple orders of bao buns, a variety platter of tacos, and a couple of strawberry shortcakes for dessert. Yoongi wasn’t even sure if they were going to eat it all, but he figured what they didn’t touch the rest of the group would descend on like vultures. 

They were searching for an open picnic bench to settle down on when Yoongi heard a deep voice screaming Jungkook’s name. Taehyung waved to them wildly as he stood on top of a table, obviously having been trying to keep an eye out for them. 

Yoongi breathed deeply, suddenly nervous. He was proud, yes, but he was still nervous about what his friends would think. There could be any number of issues that they could take with their mating, like that he was too old for Jungkook, too mean, too messed up - just too much. 

Instead, Taehyung’s happy grin turned into a smirk the closer they got. He jumped off the table and his gaze flickered between Yoongi and Jungkook’s necks, inhaling deeply before he suddenly started laughing. Jimin sauntered up holding a couple of drinks, and he handed one to Taehyung as he looked at him curiously. 

“Look,” Taehyung said breathily between bouts of laughter, “They finally figured it out.” 

Jimin turned his glance to the two standing awkwardly with their hands full of food, his eyes widening as he took in the bite marks. He inhaled deeply before chuckling. 

“Congrats! It’s about time.” 

Yoongi looked at the two, suddenly very confused. 

“What the hell does that mean?” he muttered as he set his food down on the table. Jungkook silently slid in next to him and squeezed his thigh in comfort. 

“It means,” Jimin rolled his eyes, “That we been knew. Jungkookie has always been obvious as hell about you, hyung. And we always knew he was your favorite. Oh god, Tae. Do you remember the time Jungkook spent an entire weekend making Yoongi hyung a valentine when he was like, ten? He even made him homemade chocolates shaped like music notes.” 

Taehyung giggled, nodding his head. “Oh yeah. And remember when Yoongi thought Jungkookie was dating that Mina girl? He was like an angry bear and kept snapping at everyone. Then suddenly, he was hungry and nothing but the pancakes at the diner would do. Nevermind that was where Jungkook was hanging out with Mina to study for their science project.” 

“Okay, I get it. Alright,” Yoongi murmured, distracting himself with a bite of food. 

“Baby,” Jungkook suddenly whispered against his ear, “Were you jealous?” 

Yoongi could feel his face flush as he cleared his throat and whispered back. 

“I wanted to rip her hair out and I didn’t know why.” 

Jungkooks smug grin was totally worth letting that little embarrassing fact drop. 

“Anyway, everyone else on their way?” Yoongi asked after taking a sip of his drink. 

Jimin and Taehyung sneak a glance at each other before wiggling their eyebrows in tandem. 

“Now there’s a story. Basically, one moment we were finishing our dinner as we watched you two start your run, then Hobi and Namjoon were quietly arguing with Jin. The next thing I know, Hobi starts growling at Jin and goes, “Run,” in like the scariest voice I’ve ever heard him use. Jin just stood there looking stunned for a minute and starts to walk away like he was leaving. Then Namjoon stands up and points towards the forest and goes, “Wrong way, hyung. Run that way,” Jimin explains dramatically, letting Taehyung take over the rest. 

“Yeah, and then Jinnie looks shocked as hell but then he books it. Namjoonie and Hobie hyung kissed for like a whole minute, which was both sweet and gross, and then Hobie I swear to God said, “Let's go get our mate, baby,” then ran after Jinnie. So I’m guessing they fucked in the woods all night because we still haven’t seen them come back.” 

“Huh,” Yoongi huffs. “Speaking of about time.”

All four of them make various sounds of agreement then focused on their food for the most part, Jimin occasionally regaling them with tales of couples he’d seen coming out of the woods. Jungkook was absolutely shameless with his affection, not caring if Taehyung or Jimin made fun of him for his constant nuzzling or various groping on Yoongi’s person. Yoongi himself was surprised that he was allowing it, as he’d never really been into PDA, but instead his stupid Omega was preening and basking with pride in the Alpha’s affections. It probably didn’t hurt when he saw how many envious glances were thrown his mate’s way. 

An hour later and they were all beginning to consider texting the other three to make sure they were at least alive. Yoongi was getting anxious because he really wanted to leave and nest with Jungkook, his Omega slowly growing nervous with all the various scents coming close to his new mate. 

Just as he was about to suggest leaving and apologizing to the rest later, the three finally came through the trees, all of them holding hands with Seokjin in the middle. They were covered in dirt and leaves but looked happy and content. All three of them sporting mating bites on both sides of their necks. 

The four at the table erupted into whistles and catcalls as they came closer. Namjoon’s proudly puffed his chest, his pride nearly rivaling Jungkook’s attitude of the day. Hoseok’s smile was beaming and Seokjin somehow managed to look unruffled, though his slight blush gave him away. 

“Congratulations,” Yoongi smirked as he raised his cup towards the new mates. 

Jin quirked an eyebrow at him, “Indeed. I could say the same for you. Been doing things with my baby brother, have you?” 

Yoongi sputtered and eyed Seokjin nervously before the other finally broke, laughing loudly. 

“Relax. I’ve known about his crush for years. And then when he presented he wouldn’t stop screaming your name - which, thanks for that. That’s burned into my memory for all fucking time.” 

“So you’re not mad?” 

“Of course not. I couldn’t have picked better for either of you. I love you both and you’ll be happy together. Of course, if you hurt him, you know how much crime television I watch. I could kill you and dispose of the body and weep so well at your funeral not a soul would suspect me.” 

“Noted,” Yoongi cringed as Jungkook giggled and kissed the side of his head. 

“Hyung, wanna go home?” Jungkook whispered. 

Yoongi nodded and Jungkook stood up, grabbing his hand to help him up. They left the rest of the food there for the others to pick on and waved to the table, 

“Alright, we’re out of here. Don’t bother us for the rest of the weekend,” Jungkook smirked at the group. They rolled their eyes and yelled their goodbyes. 

“Make sure you remember to eat well!” Hobi screamed, “And don’t forget to make sure Yoongi drinks water! He always forgets, and he smells like he’s going into heat. OH, get him Slurpees! He loves those when he’s in heat!” 

“Will do, hyung! Bye guys!” 

Yoongi rushes off before they finish screaming instructions, now thoroughly embarrassed - even if he was a little touched by their concern. 

Jungkook escorts him to his own car and even opens the door for him. Yoongi knows it’s only a matter of time before he goes back to his spoiled brat ways, so for now he’s enjoying this side of Jungkook. 

The drive is quiet but comfortable, the two of them only unlacing their clasped hands if necessary. When they pull up to the three-story Italiante house that Yoongi has coveted since he was young, his heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest. 

“Are you happy, hyung?” Jungkook asks as he helps Yoongi out of the car and pulls him towards the entrance. 

Yoongi’s voice catches when he tries to answer, so he simply nods and squeezes Jungkook’s hand, knowing the other will understand and perhaps feel him over the bond without saying anything. 

Yoongi’s only been able to see the inside of this house in person a couple times, mostly having to rely on memory and internet pictures to make his dream plans. The inside is still the same, with the original wood floors, intricate windows, and the massive fireplace in the front parlor. It appeared as though all that Jungkook had really done was clean the place up and add a couple of chairs and a small table for them to use during the bonding period. 

“I figured since I was able to buy the whole thing with cash and now it’s all ours, we could use the savings you’ve been putting together towards actually decorating it how you wanted and fixing up whatever needed it.” 

“That's...God, that’s perfect, Kook. You’re perfect. Thank you,” Yoongi said breathlessly, trying to contain his tears as he took in the magnificence of the house. The home of his dreams, with the perfect Alpha. He didn’t know if he deserved all this, but he wasn’t willing to give it up even if he wasn’t. 

“I already claimed the bedroom towards the back of the upstairs hall for us. It’s the biggest and I put a mattress and stuff in there for us to use until we go shopping,” Jungkook nods towards the stairs before suddenly clearing his throat nervously. 

“And...uh...we might wanna pick a room for a nursery.” 

“Oh yeah?” Yoongi huffed a laughed, “Already making big plans, baby Alpha?” 

“Um,” Jungkook ruffled his hair nervously, “So part of being a prime is enhanced scenting and hearing, even more than the usual Alpha. So...uh...we can smell stuff like pregnancy right away. And hear heartbeats. And enhanced fertility...” Jungkook’s voice trailed off until it was nearly a whisper.  

Yoongi turned to stare at the nervous Alpha, lifting an eyebrow as he pieced together what Jungkook was trying to say. 

“You motherfucker. You knocked me up, didn’t you?” 

“Um...yes? I mean, it’s too early to hear a heartbeat I think, but I can smell you. You smell really super sweet and like...maybe milky?” 

Yoongi strode towards him and startled him by reaching up and pulling him in for a hard kiss. When he pulled away, Jungkook gaped at him in awe. 

“You’re not mad?” 

“No, baby. I’m not mad. I’m...maybe overwhelmed a bit. Just yesterday I was resigned to being alone, and now I have an amazing mate and a pup on the way. I’m so grateful that you picked me.” 

Jungkook rushed forward and embraced him, nuzzling his nose into Yoongi’s hair. 

“I love you, hyung.” 

“I love you too, baby.” 

With that, Jungkook swooped in and grabbed Yoongi, picking him up bridal style as he ran up the stairs to their new nest, where they spent the rest of the day breaking it in until they had to leave to clean out Yoongi’s cave under the cover of darkness. 

Yoongi fanned himself as he sat in an uncomfortable lawn chair, the blazing sun making him absolutely miserable. It would have been tough for him on a usual day, but now at five months pregnant, he was basically in hell. Still, there was no way he’d miss Jungkook’s academy graduation. 

The six of them were crammed into the middle of the front row as they waited for Jungkook’s name to called. Hobi was excitedly waiting for his chance to embarrass the poor Alpha with the brightly colored banner he made just for the occasion. The other two youngest were rapidly arguing back and forth trying to decide on some sort of chant they were going to scream. 

Yoongi gently smiled as Jungkook’s eyes found him in the crowd, the other’s bunny smile wide and beaming when he caught sight of his mate. They were still as crazy about each other as ever, having spent the last five months building their home together and finding it easy to turn their close friendship into a solid foundation for their new life as mates. His Alpha absolutely doted on him and Yoongi did everything he could to make sure Jungkook knew he felt the same. 

Finally, Jungkook’s name was called and he walked up to shake the Captain’s hand and accept the paper stating he’d graduated from the Police Academy after six grueling months of training. 

The group clapped along with the rest of the room, but Hobi and the two brats of course stood up and started dancing and waving the banner around as Jungkook’s face flush a lovely color of dark pink. He tried to gesture for Hobi to sit down, even knowing it was a futile attempt. 

It wasn’t until they determined they had thoroughly embarrassed the young Alpha enough that they finally settled down and allowed the announcer to call the next person. Yoongi chuckled to himself know he was going to have to listen to Jungkook bitch about their friends later. 

After the ceremony, there was a small reception and the group found themselves in the back of the room settling into a round table that was similar to their usual spot. Yoongi observed his friends contently as he held hands with Jungkook under the table, the other one rubbing his stomach absentmindedly. 

“You know, something just occurred to me,” Namjoon suddenly blurted. “It’s not that surprising we all ended up together. We never wanted to make friends with other people either, so of course we would want to be mates with each other too.” 

“Speak for yourself, hyung,” Taehyung chuckled. “I have tons of friends that aren’t you guys. So does Jiminie.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I just mean like, maybe there was a reason we always stuck together. Maybe we were all meant to be.” 

“If you’re trying to tell me you love me, Joonie, I appreciate it but I have a lovely Alpha already,” Yoongi smirks. 

“I just mean, like, soulmates. You know? Maybe we were supposed to meet to help each other find our mates. Or maybe we are all soulmates in various forms.” 

“I’m too exhausted to think about this right now, my love. We all love each other, we’re going to grow up and live in the same nursing home. Etc, etc. Just eat,” Jin says as he shoves a piece of chicken in Namjoon’s mouth. 

Yoongi was grateful for Jin’s interference because he was too tired for one of Namjoon’s epiphanies, but he did get what he’d been trying to say. He’s always felt like this group was where he was supposed to be, these other six souls that there intertwined with his own. And one that shone brighter than the rest as it became one with his; as Jungkook’s love and devotion made every day worth living. 

He stroked his stomach gently, smiling to himself. Jungkook squeezed his hand and spoke words of love with his eyes as he smiled down at the Omega. 

Yes, this is where he was meant to be. 

[thehangeddemon]

Family Matters || Charleson, Xavier, Vincent, & Hamilton

Vincent: Vincent paced back and forth, reading and re-reading the texts between himself and Charles Xavier. Rather than continue with the confounded device, he disappeared, appearing a moment later within the Atlas manor.

He smelled food! A distraction if there ever was one. He headed to the kitchen with a delighted hum.

Xavier: In the kitchen, Vincent would find Xavier idly sipping coffee and reading a newspaper while his chef put the finishing touches on a platter of pastries.

He looked up when he felt Vincent's presence and was already smiling when the little raven entered the room. "Your ability to detect food is getting better and better, canary. Would you like a cream puff?"

Vincent: He smiled at the greeting, eyeing the person between the kitchen island and oven.

"Where's...Hamlecar? Hamlet? Hampton? I thought he was your chef."

A cream puff was taken and inhaled, then stuffed in his mouth whole.

Xavier: "Hamilton, and no, he's not the chef. That honor belongs to Christine. He's my butler."

The petite brunette woman decorating petit fours smiled at Vincent.

Vincent: "What does a butler do, then?" He smiled at the woman, just remembering to cover his mouth before embarrassing himself.

Xavier: "Tends to any guests, answers the door, manages the staff, assists the family. Things like that."

Vincent: "Do you need that? I just pop in. You don't need doors."

Xavier: "You do, most can't and are not allowed to. Most guests get stopped at the security gate--another of Hamilton's responsibilities--and have to get approval to enter my property."

Vincent: "Being evil is hard work," he smiled mischievously.

Xavier: He smiled. "So is protecting one's home. I've got precious things in here."

Vincent: "Have you been lying to me? I'm pretty certain you're a dragon."

Xavier: "I'm almost certain I was in a former life."

Vincent: "Maybe you were my dragon."

Xavier: "Perhaps so." He nodded in thanks when Christine brought a plate with a selection of pastries to the table and motioned for Vincent to join him.

"Have a seat and tell me what brings you here today, canary."

Vincent: "You know I'm not a canary." He took a seat beside the demon and reached for another pastry.

"I want you to meet someone. A special someone."

Xavier: "I know. You're far more powerful than any canary. Would you prefer another nickname?"

He arched a brow as he took another sip of coffee. "Oh? And who is this special someone? A new suitor?"

Vincent: More catlike than bird, he inclined his head curiously. "New suitor?"

Xavier: "Someone who has shown romantic interest in you."

Vincent: "Me?! No! No I - I have someone. I like that someone. No! This is a man named Charles Xavier."

Xavier: "Charles Xavier?" Why did that name sound vaguely familiar? "Who is this Charles Xavier and why do you want me to meet him?"

Vincent: "I think you'll find your interests peaked in each other."

Xavier: “I’m going to need a little more than that, my dear.”

Vincent: "Don't you trust me?" He gave his best pout.

Xavier: “You know I do. But you know I’m picky about the company I keep.”

Vincent: "I'm confident this will be a successful venture."

Xavier: “Vincent....” Xavier squinted. “Who is Charles Xavier?”

Vincent: "Why can no one just take my word? One's word is a thing of honor in my realm."

Xavier: “You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve had less than positive experiences with strangers. But I do trust you.”

Vincent: "I'm gonna bring him here for lunch next week. Maybe, if you'd prefer, lunch can be somewhere public."

Xavier: “I’m fine to do it here. Just warn me before you arrive so my wards don’t melt his insides.”

Vincent: "Alright." Another cream puff for his mouth. "Can we have these next week?"

Xavier: “Mhm. Christine?”

“I’m on it.” She had pulled a notepad from her pocket and was already making a note.

“What else would you like, dear? Actual food, not just pastries.”

Vincent: "But pastries are food," he pointed out matter-of-factly.

Xavier: “Pastries are desserts.”

Vincent: "Not all of em! And desserts are food!"

Xavier: “Cream puffs are most definitely deserts. Savory entree requests, please.”

Vincent: "Pastry! And...steak. All different kinds. And snails."

Xavier: “Christine, beef Wellington. We do not eat garden pests unless we’re in France.”

Vincent: "Garden pests?! They're delicious! They were my favorite before I was brought here!"

Xavier: “As you will. Christine, escargot hor d’oeuvres for Vincent.”

Vincent: "How dare you," he whispered, truly offended for all escargot enthusiasts. "Do you really not like em at all?"

Xavier: “I’ll eat them but I don’t see the mass appeal. They taste like buttery gummy worms.”

Vincent: "I am a bird." In case you needed reminding.

Xavier: Xavier chuckled. “That you are. You have a better reason to like them than most.”

Vincent: "Can a beer go with escargot?"

Xavier: “A beer can go with anything you like.”

Vincent: "I think he likes beer. Or wine. Or coffee? He definitely loves coffee."

Xavier: “We have plenty of all of them. Tea, as well.”

Vincent: "Thank you. I'll find a way to repay you."

Xavier: “Come now, Vincent, you know that isn’t necessary.”

Vincent: "I'm aware. I'm going to anyway."

Xavier: “If you must repay me, repay me with your company.”

Vincent: "Then I'll stay the night!"

Xavier: “By all means. I’ll have a room prepared for you.”

Vincent: A night learning to play chess and teaching Xavier a dialect of Elvish. He had hopes that this would somehow bring peace between brothers. He had a feeling the bridge would be created through the professor.

Next week, Vincent would appear as he always did, landing gracefully at Charles' office window with a chirp.

Charles: Charles glanced over his shoulder at the sound, offering the little bird one of his warm, crinkly-eyed smiles. He wheeled over to the window and opened it wide before turning back to his laptop. "Good afternoon, Vincent. I'm just finishing up a couple of emails. Please, make yourself comfortable. How are you?" His fingers were already flying over the keys.

Vincent: The jackdaw hopped in and ruffled his feathers.

"I'm full of flight and I'm starving." Nothing unusual for the familiar.

"Have you packed your things?" Better yet, "Does...Mason know?"

Charles: "There are snacks in the kitchen, if you're interested," he mumbled, distractedly putting the finishing touches on an email before hitting 'send'. "Pack?" And on to the next. "Exactly how long am I meant to be visiting this person?" He took a sip from his mug and pulled a face. Ugh. Cold tea. "Of course Mason knows. I haven't given him any details, mainly because I don't know them myself, but he knows. I'll have to tell him and the kids I'm going before we leave."

Vincent: "A night! Just in case kind of packing. We don't have to, but it's best to be prepared." He fluttered over to his host and settled himself on Charles' shoulder.

Mason knew only what Charles knew, and that was good. Charles had respected his mind and the secret remained. At least with Mason in the dark he couldn't be hostile.

"I can tell the little ones!"

Charles: He reached up to scratch at Vincent's head, even as one hand continued to type. "Almost... there... done!" He hit send once more and shut the laptop. "I'll tell them. I want to say goodbye." Already, he was making his way toward the door. "I'll throw together an overnight bag, as well. Just in case. It shouldn't take me long."

Vincent: "I'm going to ride your shoulder. Mind if I do? I'll sing to you, if you'd like!"

Charles: He laughed quietly, switching off the light and shutting the door behind them. "I don't mind.  Sing, if it pleases you." He reached out for the familiar flares of his children's minds, and twitched a little smile to find them in the reconstructed playroom. When he reached them, Charles watched them play from the doorway for a moment or two, his expression impossibly fond. "Having fun?"

Vincent: He would sing the song of his people! Soft love songs to awaken the heart and unshackle the spirit. Songs which became stronger as he heard the children, wanting to gift them with something he was proud of.

Rory looked up from his argument with Dothan and beamed. "No!" Regardless of his smile! "I told - I said he looks like me!"

"You look like me! I'm older than you!"

Charles: "Gentlemen, please." Charles attempted a stern expression, but his eyes were bright with barely contained amusement. "I think it's fair to say that you resemble each other. And you each very much look like yourselves. No more bickering, please. Have you eaten lunch?"

Vincent: Dothan nodded. "We had pie. That's what the lady said. It was pie with meat and potatoes in it."

"I want a smoothie!" Rory declared. But then Vincent came into his view. The boy could not gasp any louder.

"Can I hold it?!"

The familiar's feathers puffed. I beg your pardon?!

Charles: "Ms. Hazel," he corrected, gently, and smiled. "Sounds delicious." Oh, dear. Charles bit down on a laugh. "Him. He's a... shapeshifter. A little like Aunt Raven. His name is Vincent. You can ask him if that's all right. Vincent?"

Vincent: "You have to be gentle with me."

Rory about lost his mind at the sound of a human voice from the little bird.

"Boy, you know me! I made you fly!"

"But you were tall."

Charles: "Yes, well, he can shapeshift, remember? Isn't that right, Vincent?"

Vincent: "I can become a giant! I can become as small as a mouse. I can turn you into a bird."

Well, now Rory - and a few other children - were looking to Charles with pleading eyes.

Charles: "Erm, no." His eyes had gone wide with the suggestion. He tried to look more understanding as he shook his head. "No, we won't be turning children into birds, today." Or ever. "Actually, Vincent and I need to leave soon. I've just come to say goodbye."

Vincent: Both children and bird wilted. Charles was right. They had much to do.

"Cynthia wants to know how long," Dothan said, his attention to his left by the window. Cynthia looked to the professor expectantly.

Charles: "Just until tonight, sweetheart. Tomorrow, at the latest." He still wasn't planning to stay, but it was far better to prepare the kids than to potentially lie to them. "Mason will be here."

Vincent: That seemed enough to reassure her. Her contentment had not been passed on to Rory.

"I wanna go!"

Charles: That was only to be expected. He quickly lifted the boy into his arms. "Oh, but everyone here will miss you! I won't be gone long, love. We can go swimming tomorrow, if you'd like. Or we can take the paddle boat out on the lake. Or both! Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Vincent: But the logic wasn't sound! "Tomorrow is forever from now!"

Even Dothan had to laugh at that; quick to cover his mouth as to not make it worse.

Charles: Charles, too, had to bite down on a smile. "Tomorrow will be here before you know it. Promise."

Vincent/Mason: Vincent thought this was all sweet, until he realized Rory looked on the verge of tears. Though he had not taken the brunt of trauma from his captivity, months with Mason and Charles in a protective environment had left him with a bit of separation anxiety.

Mason was home, and in tune enough to appear in the doorway at a moment's notice with old world wisdom.

"What is happening to your face? What is that? Ugh! Your face is gonna freeze like that!"

Rory wiped his eyes of non-existent tears. "Na-uh!"

"I've seen it! Frozen solid!"

Rory wriggled his feet. He wanted down. "I want-"

"Do you want to spend time with this old man? Why don't the two of us go play some ball."

A glance was given to Charles.

Charles: Instinctively, Charles held the boy closer to his chest. It was unhealthy, however natural, for the boy to be unable to stand even a few hours apart from his psuedo-parents. But that didn't stop him from wanting to protect Rory from the world. His sigh of relief at Mason's appearance was nearly audible. He returned the demon's look meaningfully. They'd need to discuss potential solutions, later. For now, he set a squirming Rory onto his feet and smiled tightly. "That sounds like fun!" Charles brushed gently alongside Mason's mind.  'Thank you. I won't be long.'

Vincent/Mason: Vincent wanted to widen the gap between himself and Mason, but remained silent and statuesque. Perhaps if he kept utterly to himself, the demon would not question the creature on his companion's shoulder.

'Is it not obvious where he's taking you?'

Charles: 'It's meant to be a surprise, Mason.' He nudged Rory gently in the demon's direction. "No more tears. There's a good boy. Go, play, and have fun."

Vincent: 'Hardly a surprise, except that you've been invited in the first place.' Rory traded one pseudo father for the other, tugging Mason with both hands towards the backyard.

'Do not forget your ring, should anything happen. Please, feel free to obliterate anyone's mind should they get too close.'

Charles: He rolled his eyes, but nevertheless spilt affectionate warmth into Mason's mind. 'Yes, yes. I'll be careful. I'll defend myself, if I must. And I always have my ring.' His fingers were given a pointed wiggle, the gold glinting bright in the afternoon light pouring through the window. 'I love you. Stop worrying.'

Mason: 'Don't you 'yes yes' me.'

Rory was placed on his shoulders. He was given a quick kiss to his forehead. Rory wanted to do the same, and Mason leaned forward to oblige.

'I love ya.'

Charles: He smiled at those three little words, as well as the kisses from two of his favourite people on the planet. He almost didn't want to leave. Almost. Curiosity and excitement churned into a heady mixture, and he was quick to hug the rest of the children before slipping out of the playroom. "Just going to pack a bag. It won't take five minutes."

Vincent: Vincent finally breathed when those demonic eyes disappeared around the corner. His weight would deaden on Charles' shoulder.

'How did you meet him?'

Charles: He made his way quickly to his bedroom, shutting the door behind them as he entered. "Make yourself comfortable wherever." Charles might not be the best perch, what with the way he had to dig through the closet for his duffle bag. The brown leather was soft and supple with age. "We met at a bar. He borrowed a cigarette. Took an interest in me." That was one way of putting it. He tossed his bag haphazardly onto the bed and grabbed a pair of trousers along with a black, summer-weight sweater. Was that his or Mason's? No matter. "And the rest is history, or however the cliché goes."

Vincent: No, of course he would not move! He was perfectly fine - maybe not with the leather bag. Maybe not with that thick wool sweater. Why? It was much too warm for such clothes!

The little bird coughed, leapt onto Charles' head, tangled in his hair, and hopped onto the comforter. What an ordeal!

"You smoke?" Never mind. He thought on his own relationship. "Four years ago, I fell in love with a giant bear, and slept in his fur. I will never love another.”

Charles: Ow. Well, that was uncomfortable. He gave the familiar a wry smile and ran a hand through his mussed hair. "Occasionally. Less than I used to." Socks and underwear joined the rest of his clothing in short order. An eyebrow rose at Vincent's confession. Never-ending bear love. Intense. "How lovely. I'm assuming this bear can transform into a person?" He disappeared into the en suite bathroom and returned a minute later with a small handful of toiletries. These, he dropped into a side pocket of his bag and zipped the lot shut. "All set."

Vincent: "The most handsome person," he emphasized with great pride. He was still caught up with the fact that Charles smoked. He could not smell tobacco on him, so it must have been rare indeed. The demon, on the other hand. He could still trace his scent across the mansion.

Unceremoniously, Vincent fluttered to the hard wood floor, reshaping in the instant into his human form. Much care was taken in stretching his muscles, especially his arms.

"Moving with me isn't as jarring as a demon, but you might get dizzy. There's more... gyration." It seemed the best word to describe what Charles was about to experience. As his hand was taken, the bedroom begun to spin, as though pirouetting. The direction twisted in reverse, then again, yet Vincent remained gyroscopically sound. He then stepped forward, into the sudden grass. The swirling kaleidoscope of reality righted itself in front of a dark chestnut and wheat mansion. A modest size in comparison to the school. A large fountain surrounded by roses blocked the sight of the double doors.

"We're here!"

Xavier: Xavier felt the new presence the moment Vincent and his guest slipped into the protective ward. He’d given his permission, of course, otherwise there would be quite the bloody mess to wash off the drive.

He adjusted his jacket in the mirror and sighed.

“Hamilton, the doorbell will be ringing in a moment,” he called to his butler.

Charles: Less jarring for whom, precisely? Though Charles nodded and smiled, he still braced himself for the lurch. He was forced to shut his eyes against the spinning, grateful when the world around him went still once again. Well. At least he hadn't gone faintly green, as was usually the case. He still preferred more human means of travel.

His gaze swept over the large house with its neatly manicured grounds. A far cry from Mason's Burtonesque aesthetic, the younger Atlas' home seemed almost welcoming in its familiarity. His mother would have approved. Hitching his bag more securely onto his shoulder, he looked at Vincent with a faint smile. "Lead the way."

Vincent/Mason: Mason would have taken feigned offense. His opinion was understandable. The house had been a safe haven; though the interior had been modified, the exterior left something to be desired. He'd never bothered to upgrade, and Lawrence found it charming. Perhaps the demon did as well, subconsciously.

Vincent smiled warmly, feeling right at home before ever knocking on the door. Though he could have appeared in the foyer, he thought the best impression would be made by ringing the bell and standing outside like gentlemen.

Hamilton/Lydia: The door was opened promptly, revealing an impeccably dressed butler and a lavish interior behind him.

“Good afternoon, Master Vincent, the lord has been expecting you.”

Hamilton stepped aside so they could enter. He offered Charles a pleasant smile just as a pretty and equally pristine maid appeared at his back. “May I take your bag, sir?”

Charles: Correction: his mother would have been overjoyed. Charles returned the smile kindly and slipped the strap from his shoulder. "Yes. Thank you." Too well-bred to gawk at opulence, he glanced politely from one costly furnishing to the next. If the rest of the house wasn't a veritable museum of wealth, he'd eat his bloody hat.

His heart ticked up ever-so-slightly in tempo. What if the man didn't like him? He felt like a teenage boy, meeting his girlfriend's parents for the first time. Absurd. He needed to relax. Still, he found himself smoothing his hair, and straightening the lapels of his grey linen suit, before they were taken to meet their host.

Vincent: Always one to try and shake Hamilton up, the little familiar stood on his toes to kiss the human's cheek. He and MJ Calloway had been scheming as of late. Both believed Fabian was in for a little pampering.

"Where is my demon!" he called, disappearing without his shoes left behind not-so-accidentally. Xavier would suddenly feel strong arms around his waist, a face buried between his shoulder blades. Were those legs around his thighs? Yes. He'd been caught.

Xavier/Hamilton: Hamilton took Charles’ bag, fully intending on telling him and Vincent that Xavier was waiting in the living room when the kiss to his cheek made him blush furiously and clear his throat.

This caused the maid behind him to smile to herself and step in. "Lord Atlas is waiting for you in the living room. Please, follow me."

This last was said only to Charles; Lydia was unfazed and unsurprised by Vincent's departure and abandonment of his shoes. She simply gathered them up and led Charles through a pair of heavy French doors just off the foyer and into the living room where Xavier was busy being attack-hugged by Vincent.

It was a far sillier first impression than the imposing one he usually went with, but even so it would quickly be painfully obvious that this man could not be more different from Mason.

Xavier Atlas stood tall and proud, clad head to toe in Armani, and reflected the extreme wealth that surrounded him. He spared no expense on his home or his appearance.

"My lord, your guest has arrived," Lydia said to him, setting down Vincent's shoes beside one of the couches.

"Thank you, Lydia." Another difference made itself known as Xavier spoke. His accent was polished and cultured, more indicative of having grown up in the poshest areas of London than in a working-class town in Yorkshire. "Tea service, please."

"Yes, my lord."

Charles: Oh. Oh. That flush was adorable. Charles was going to have fun with that one. He smiled, perhaps more brightly than was strictly polite, and thanked the butler. He turned the same grin on the maid and dipped his head. "Certainly."

Whatever he'd been expecting, it certainly wasn't Vincent clinging to a tree of a man like a spider monkey. Leave it to the familiar to help loosen some of the tension in his shoulders. He muffled a small laugh with his forearm, feigning a cough. Xavier was tall and broad, and certainly would have cut an intimidating figure, if not for his new accessory.

Still, Charles' dazzling grin from earlier had faded into a smile that was almost shy. Was Vincent going to make an introduction? He could only stand there awkwardly in someone's parlor for so long.

Vincent: Vincent slowly climbed his way to the peak of this magnificent mountain of demon. What made one more significant than the other was purely selfish. He was aware of what this man had done to his mistress. Long ago he'd forgiven what he doubted Bronwyn MacAllister could. He made no excuses for the creature he clung to. He was wicked, but never was he boring. What's more, he believed in love, the same which resonated with the familiar. As much as he admired Charles Xavier, he could not comprehend why he resisted fate.

No matter! The two would find each other interesting, or they would kill each other.

"You smell good today. What is th - Professor! This," which he rested his chin on, arms now around his shoulders in a piggyback ride, "is Xavier Atlas. How old are you now? A thousand? Anyway. This is Charles Xavier. Isn't that humorous? You two should have met years ago."

Xavier: Much as Xavier wanted to smile at Vincent's antics, he refrained. Not that he stood frowning at his guest, his smile was simply not as easy as it would've been had he and Vincent been alone. It was polite and interested.

At least until he heard the name, and the scent clinging to the man finally registered. Then the interest turned to something he couldn't quite name. Trepidation? Anxiety? An impending sense of doom? Probably a combination.

"A gentleman doesn't speak of such matters, Vincent," he said, gathering himself and regally inclining his head toward Charles. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Xavier Atlas. Please, sit."

Charles: Charles' smile was big enough for the both of them, the sort of smile good manners forced out of him, when nerves threatened his careful composure. When he spoke, it was in an accent that rivaled the demon's, all gentle, Oxfordian refinement. "I assure you, Mr. Atlas, the pleasure is all mine."

 His hand twitched at his side, itching to extend, but he did as he was bid, folding into an armchair with a frankly surprising amount of grace. "Thank you, for inviting me into your home. Or, rather, for allowing Vincent to invite me." A smile, softer, as his eyes met the familiar's. "I appreciate the introduction." Clearly, he was never going to get one from the elder Atlas. "I do hope it isn't too much of an imposition."

Vincent: With some reluctance, Vincent forced himself to his own two feet. He had no intention of leaving the two men alone in this room. Whatever would happen, he would play his median role to the best of his abilities. Hamilton and tea would also be used as balm.

"I have not planned past this moment. Spontaneity, I think, is the most honest method to learn someone." The bird took to perching on the back of the nearest chair with ease.

Xavier: "Not at all." Xavier took his usual chair by the fireplace. And it was true, having a guest was no imposition. Having this guest however...

"Well, in the spirit of honesty, may I ask how long we have until my brother arrives on his pale horse to rain Armageddon on me? I'd like to know if I have time for tea."

Charles: "Rain...? No." Charles shook his head, a mite too emphatically. "No, no, no. Mason won't be bothering you on my account. Not if I have any say in the matter. He knows where I am. Moreover, he's rather... preoccupied, presently. We've plenty of time for tea." Good lord, Mason. "I must say, I've wanted to meet you for quite a while, now. To put a face to the name, so to speak. "

Xavier: Xavier's brow arched. "Mason knows you're here? You're telling me my brother is fully aware of where you were going and still allowed you to come here?"

Hamilton entered the living room silently, making himself invisible as he poured tea.

"You'll have to forgive me, Charles, but I find it difficult to believe that one, your presence here isn't courting Mason's wrath and two, that the no doubt charming things he's probably told you about me made you want to meet me."

Charles: Charles laughed, though not unkindly. It was a bright, somewhat startled sound. "I think you've misunderstood the nature of my relationship with your brother. He does not allow me to do anything." Outside of the bedroom, anyway, but that was certainly an inappropriate topic of conversation. "I'm a grown man, perfectly capable of looking after myself. And a schoolful of children, for that matter."

He looked into Xavier's eyes, searching, though he didn't know the man well enough to read them as he did Mason's. "I can't speak to his present mood, but he seemed calm enough when I left him. In any case, I believe his respect for me runs deeper than... temper tantrums. You couldn't possibly know this, of course, but I'm not the sort of man who casts judgment a person I've never met. I don't form opinions based on someone else's beliefs. Even someone I love as deeply as I do your brother."

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a private smile. "Not that I've been given much to consider, regardless. He's my family. And you're his. That's reason enough for me."

Xavier: "I don't doubt that you are, Charles." Xavier accepted his tea from Hamilton. "And I do not doubt that he cares deeply for you and affords you respect. I'm simply extremely well-versed in my brother's opinion of me and I was under the impression that he'd rather chew on broken glass and rusted nails than accept my being near anyone he's close to or them being near me."

He waited while Hamilton handed cups to both Charles and Vincent.

"All that being said, I appreciate that you're not here with a torch and pitchfork." Although calling him and Mason a family was probably a stretch. At best they were grudging sharers of DNA.

Vincent: Vincent looked between the two men. Waited on bated breath for the very brother to appear in the middle of the living room. He knew he was allowed, as he'd seen him before, but as the subject continued to be revolved, the more he grew concerned.

"He might just fry me when neither of you are looking. Cook me in duck fat and serve me to unsuspecting - probably you," to Xavier.

Charles: He smiled warmly at the handsome one as he accepted his cup, scooping a few spoons of sugar into the steaming liquid and finishing the lot with a splash of milk.

"I do what I can." He took a small sip and hummed his appreciation. "I suppose only time will truly tell. I hope you won't fault my having a bit of faith in him."

Charles chuckled softly, looking to Vincent with a shrug. "Now, that, I'd consider a possibility. I don't think he's forgiven you for the library incident. Though, you're one of the handful of friends I have that isn't pubescent, so I think I can plead your case."

Xavier: "No, I don't fault you." He couldn't relate to the impulse, but he definitely couldn't fault Charles for it. That's what love was, after all.

"Mason wouldn't dare do such a thing, canary," said Xavier, smiling softly at Vincent. "To harm a single hair on your head would be to court the wrath of someone whose amulets you wear even now."

Vincent: "I don't know about that. They're-" he glanced to Charles. His penchant for gossip was weighted by his respect for the mutant. He bowed his head to him. Had the flight of a child really caused so much damage?

"I think my mistress would eventually forgive his sin. My master... probably not."

Charles: He smiled, warm and faintly amused. "I'm only teasing, my friend. If you think Bronwyn would ever forgive him, I'll take your word. I certainly wouldn't. He'd steal the moon for her."

Xavier: Steal the moon and commit arson. Probably best not to bring that up. Wouldn't want to taint the miraculously untainted opinion of him Charles somehow had.

"Indeed he would. Cake?"

Hamilton had seemingly produced a cake out of thin air and was already cutting Vincent a generous portion.

Vincent: His eyes brightened at the thought of sweets. More than just an expression; try were quite literally illuminated for a heartbeat.

"Hamilton, did you make this yourself? You beautiful man."

Charles: "Beautiful, indeed." His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I have a ruthless sweet tooth. I'd love a slice." He took another sip of tea while he watched Hamilton work. "You have a lovely home, Xavier," he began, apropos of nothing. Small talk seemed safer than pushing more on the subject of the estranged siblings. For the moment, anyway. "May I ask why you chose California? It seems a sharp contrast to England's grey skies."

Xavier: Hamilton smiled and shook his head. His cheeks flushed again but this time he did not deviate from his task. He just kept his head down and served. "No, Master Vincent, I did not. Christine made it." The it in question was chiffon cake filled with summer berries and chantilly cream.

"Thank you, Charles," said Xavier, giving his guest a more sincere smile as Hamilton worked. "I chose it for the weather. I don't really spend much time in England these days. My time is split between here, Italy, and France."

Vincent: "I like France best. Their pastries are worth more than gold."

So far, the atmosphere had remained pleasant. He didn't suspect a shift in tone, not with cake and tea. For now, his muscles had lost their tension.

Charles: Any cake with fresh strawberries was a ticket directly to the professor's heart. He accepted the plate graciously, but tucked in with a mite too much enthusiasm to be considered truly polite.

"Oh," he began, once he'd swallowed a large forkful. "How lovely. I think I'd miss the clouds. Nothing like an overcast day to calm the mind. It's been too long since I visited France. Mason and I have only just gotten back from Positano. It was a wonderful holiday, aside from a mild sunburn. Where in Italy do you live?"

Xavier: Xavier chuckled into his teacup, and not just because he couldn't imagine his brother vacationing in Italy.

"Positano," he said. How was that for an extraordinary coincidence? "In a villa on the coast." Time to up the wards on his vacation home, just in case.

Charles: His eyes widened slightly. Wow. The world was vanishingly small. "You don't say," he laughed, low and genuinely amused, not holding an ounce of a suspicion at the coincidence. "We stayed on the coast. Booked a hotel overlooking the ocean. I wouldn't be surprised if we walked right past your place without knowing. It's certainly a beautiful place. I might've entertained a fantasy or two of moving the school there." Not that he ever would.

Vincent: While Charles held no suspicion, Vincent's carried skepticism enough for all of the men in the house. Of course Mason must have known. How could he not?

"Spain in spring. All of the food and flowers. The children would love it. Most of them."

Xavier: Unless Mason had been doing reconnaissance on him, there was no way he’d know of Xavier’s Italian home. They didn’t exactly talk very often or chit chat about their lives and real estate choices.

“Oh you’d know. Or Mason would. Wards give off energy signatures.” He smiled at Vincent. “Anyone would enjoy Spain in spring. I personally favor Granada.”

Charles: "Do they? Fascinating." Charles had never felt them, though he'd been told that Mason's home was quite well-warded. He turned to Vincent with a twitch of a smile. "You may be right. Though, the lovely weather might distract them from their work. I think we'll stay put, for now."

Vincent: "Children? Work?" The familiar made a face. "Children shouldn't work until their twelfth year."

Charles: He chuckled softly and lifted a shoulder. "You'll have to take that up with the United States education system. Most children start kindergarten at five or six. Then there's preschool, for the ambitious parents."

Vincent: The bird was absolutely mortified! He looked to Xavier for confirmation.

Xavier: Xavier chuckled into his tea. "Yes, my dear, it's true. Small children attend school."

Vincent: "But they learn on their own in the woods and clearings and swimming! They must learn from nature and observation at home!"

Xavier: "Most are taught by underpaid public servants in public schools."

Vincent: "There is nothing to learn from strangers in a cold building."

Xavier: "I agree. Colleen will teach Devlin."

Charles: "I think there's something to be said for group schooling. Children develop social skills. They learn cooperation and independence from their parents." He took a small sip from his cup. "I do agree that the present system can use some improving. Public school teachers don't have the resources to do as much good as they could. Class sizes are entirely too large. That's to say absolutely nothing of mutants who manifest early," He paused. Smiled. It was a subject he was passionate about. "Anyway, we have our kids on a homeschool curriculum, for the time being."

Xavier: Well then. What a noble and dedicated man his brother had managed to find.

"For the time being? Do you have plans to change the curriculum?"

Vincent: Wasn't he just? Vincent liked him, regardless of this realm's obsession with brick and mortar buildings and lack of natural education. Charles was cut from a different cloth.

Now it was his turn to be quiet.

Charles: He took a bite of cake and chewed thoroughly, mainly to give himself time to think. It was a long story, but he'd be succinct. "Most likely. We offer classes for mutant children from seventh through twelfth grade. A little more advanced than public school, but we cover everything we need to. We've recently... taken on a group of elementary aged kids who have manifested early. We're not really equipped to handle their needs, so we're looking into other placements." And failing. Charles was particular. "In the meantime, it's a strain on our resources. Mainly staff."

Xavier: "Do you not have enough teachers to go around or are your teachers not experienced in working with younger children?"

Charles: "Bit of both. Our staff is the lifeblood of the school. They're remarkable, but they're overworked as it is. And teaching elementary aged kids... it's another world. They require much more direct engagement and supervision."

Xavier: "You should hire a nanny to help with the supervision portion of things. And the engagement."

Vincent: Vincent perked up, but only for a moment. He was back to stuffing his face in no time.

Charles: "It's an option. It would certainly do on a temporary basis. Ideally, I want each of them adopted into loving homes. Mason and I are in the process of adopting our two youngest. I'm acting as guardian for the others, in the meantime." He'd had nannies growing up. He'd loved each of them. But he had no intention of being a parent that even vaguely resembled his own.

Vincent: Wait... "You're adopting...with him?"

Xavier: Xavier slowly lowered his cup. Charles had successfully stunned him into (temporary) silence.

Charles: "That's the plan." His smile was warm, if somewhat amused by their reactions. "You've met Rory and Cynthia, Vincent. They're already ours, it's just a matter of paperwork. These things can take years, if you want everything above board." Which he did. No clever contracts, no greased palms. "We both knew it was what we wanted for a while, but it was Mason who finally voiced it."

Vincent: Well, now it was Vincent stunned into silence. He and the demon would have to take turns speaking up.

Xavier: "My goodness, that's...I'm astonished. In a good way, of course." Mostly. Perhaps. He never, ever thought Mason would want to go down that road again so to hear it was his idea to go through with an above board adoption of not one, but two small mutant children....

"How wonderful for you both."

Charles: "Thank you. We're both very happy with the decision. Rory and Cee are... they're great kids." He steadfastly refused to get emotional about the situation. He shoved a forkful of cake into his mouth. Classy.

Vincent: Well, he was happy for Charles, that much was true. "You should see them," he finally said to Xavier. "The boy has such a colorful power!" he laughed.

Xavier: Xavier caught Vincent’s eye while Charles wasn’t looking and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Not only was that not a good idea, Mason wouldn’t allow it in a million years.

But rather than allude to that in any way he said, “Does he indeed?  Well let’s hope he reaches his fullest potential.”

Charles: "He does," Charles agreed, gaze flitting sparrow-like between the pair of them. "And you're right, Vincent. That's an excellent idea.  I should've considered it myself."

Vincent: Oh. Well there. He didn't have to feel guilty now! He smiled at the demon and took another bite. He wanted to share Charles with everyone, and if this was the way to do it, so be it.

Xavier: "Mm." Xavier sipped his tea. These two were being entirely too optimistic about how that potential situation would go. "Perhaps one day. More tea?" Right after the sun exploded and it snowed in Hell.

Charles: Charles smiled sunnily. Did Xavier realize how like his brother he actually was? The telepath knew that dubious expression. He'd seen it a hundred times if he'd seen it once, albeit on a scruffier and more beloved face. Xavier wasn't yet familiar with Charles, however. His single-minded determination was something to behold, and his hooks were already buried deep within the idea. "One day soon. I'd love some, thanks."

Xavier/Hamilton: Hamilton appeared seemingly from thin air as soon as Charles said the word and refreshed his cup, then Vincent's and Xavier's.

"Let's see what the future holds," he said with a somewhat tight smile. Although he already knew what his future held and that was a great deal of unpleasantness.

Vincent: "Is Devlin old enough to play with Rory?" Vincent asked as Hamilton left the room. Was that man on the other side of the door listening? Vincent peeked over his shoulder.

Charles: He didn't flinch, but it was impressive. Was the handsome butler's readiness from fear? Loyalty? Or was the man simply good at his job? It was something to consider. He looked to Xavier with earnest curiosity. "Your son, yes?" Mason had mentioned a nephew in passing, but Charles had chosen not the press, at the time. "Rory will be six, soon."

Xavier/Hamilton: Not outside the door, but standing at attention just inside it, ready for any order Xavier might give. Hamilton took great pride in his work.

The tight smile remained in place as Xavier nodded. "Yes, Devlin is my son and as yet a bit too young to play with older children." Never mind that Devlin had recently turned five and was perfectly able to and frequently did play with older children from Colleen's village.

Vincent: Vincent looked between the two fathers. "He's quite big now," he muttered. He was not oblivious to what Xavier was trying to do. This was just a bird pecking at a lion.

Charles: Charles believed Vincent's mumbling, but he wouldn't push where the child was concerned. He was just as protective of his own kids. Trust had to be earned. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't extend an olive branch. "Ah. Fair enough. Well, my children love meeting new people. Rory most especially. Cynthia is... shy, but kind. I'm sure they'll be very curious about Mason's brother."

Xavier: Vincent could peck all he liked, Xavier would not be moved from his position. He was being reasonably cautious.

"Do they know he has one?"

Charles: "Not yet. I wanted to meet you, first." Said simply. He took a sip from his tea.

Vincent: Oh. Oh. Eyes darted between them, then back to Hamilton, then back to the men. "And you do now." Pause. "Yay..."

Charles: Charles snorted softly into his cup, quickly attempting to cover the sound by clearing his throat. "I have, yes. And I feel comfortable enough to let them know. Of course, I still need to speak with Mason." Just another hurdle to jump.

Xavier: "I'll be astonished if he admits it aloud," Xavier muttered, not bothering to hide his pessimism. If Charles was determined to have this happen then he might as well know what he was up against.

Vincent: More frantic eyes between them. It wasn't Charles he was concerned with now. Let's be honest. Most of his concern began and ended with the Atlas brothers.

"Maybe a middle ground? What if...what if the children met...where I live?"

Charles: "He's admitted it to me." The patented Atlas pessimism was nothing new. Charles was patient enough to wade through it. "It's kind of you to offer, my friend. If we come to that point, I may take you up on it. None of these decisions can be made without Mason."

Xavier: “Yes, I suppose he did. That makes one time then. Suppose that’s something.”

Nothing had been decided and Xavier was already beginning to brood; Vincent was right to be concerned.

Vincent: "Great! So now we talk to big-little brother, then."

Xavier: Xavier snorted. Big-little brother. Mason would hate that description and for that very reason Xavier loved it.

Charles: Charles bit his lip. It wasn't funny. All right, it was. Xavier was a bloody giant. But he was too loyal to chuckle. A sip of tea to collect himself and he pulled out his mobile. "I'll call him."

Xavier: “Lucifer help us all,” came another mutter.

Charles: He hummed quietly as he unlocked his phone. In for a penny. If there was going to be bloodshed, he'd rather it happen while the children weren't present. Baby steps. He pulled up Mason's number and sent the call.

Mason: He would be answered after a single ring. "Everything alright?"

Charles: Not surprising. He suspected Mason had been watching the time, phone in hand. The thought was exasperating, but it made him smile. "Better than, darling. We're having tea and cake. Vincent had a wonderful idea, and I thought we could discuss it."

Mason: Oh he did, did he? "N'what's that?" His tone was gentle; the kind of gentle Charles might recognize as his attempt at levelheadedness.

Charles: Oh, lovely. This was going to be so enjoyable. Pessimism from both sides. Not a surprise, but it had him turning up the cheer to practically exhausting levels. "He... we were thinking that Xavier ought to have a chance to meet Rory and Cee." He held his breath, braced for impact. Perhaps this was a conversation better held outside. He mumbled a quick 'pardon me' and started for the door.

Mason: Charles might want to reconsider roaming about. "Would Rory n'Cynthia have a chance t'meet their cousin?" A question asked after one second from Charles' suggestion.

Charles: "Mm." He paused, glanced back to where Vincent and Xavier still sat. "There's been some hesitation, in that regard." Charles couldn't say if it was himself, Mason, or the children that Xavier was worried about. Most likely some combination of the three. "I thought perhaps if their... uncle had a chance to meet them, that might change. I'm not in any rush, there."

Mason: "Seems a bit one-sided t'me. He gets my whole family. That's what he wants? I wanna hear him say it."

Charles: "He is your family, Mason. Someone has to take the first step. I think it can be us. But, fine." He crossed back to his chair, putting the phone on speaker with a quick swipe. "Ask him yourself. He can hear you."

Vincent/Mason: Well, fuck.

Vincent bit back a smile. Oh, he liked Charles very much.

By now Mason was pacing Charles' bedroom. He was angry. Not at Charles, but rather the situation itself. "Ya wanna meet my children, Xavier, or not?"

Xavier: This was a terrible idea. That was all Xavier could think as Charles walked off to talk to Mason and he thought it again when Charles returned and put the phone on speaker for some godforsaken reason.

“Hello to you, too,” Xavier deadpanned. “I am well, thank you. To answer your question, not if doing so is going to involve damage to my person.”

Mason: "Ya wouldn't dare hurt a child. Would ya, Xavier?" The deadpan was as much an Atlas trait as their snide and tense shoulders. There was no difference between their original bodies to these Deidrich men.

Xavier: Xavier’s jaw clenched. “That you would even ask that is insulting.”

Charles: Rolling his eyes, Charles cut in before anyone could further fan the embers already being stirred between them.  "For the love of all that is good in this world. Mason is not going to hurt you for spending time with the children that are your niece and nephew, in all the ways that matter. And Xavier isn't going to hurt them, either. How long have I been here, hm? Have I been so much as threatened? Has Mason stormed in guns blazing? No. And clearly that isn't going to happen."

Vincent/Mason: Silence on the phone. Silence from the bird, now sitting on the edge of his seat like this was prime time television. Or in his simpler point-of-view, watching a dragon rage war with a town.

Xavier: He already had stormed in guns blazing, years ago. And no matter what Charles said or how much he reassured, Xavier would always believe that his brother was just waiting for an excuse to do it again.

And quite frankly, he’d just about had enough of this today.

If anyone was expecting him to be the bigger man, they would be sorely disappointed. His library was calling him and that was precisely where he was going.

Charles: Blue eyes narrowed at Xavier's retreating back. He could call it a battle lost, try again some other time. But something inside of him worried that he'd never have a similar opportunity. Jaw set and shoulders back, Charles followed in the demon's wake. Pride and temper had him wanting to lash out, but there was enough of that between the brothers without him adding his own fuel. "Xavier, wait." A deep, measured breath.

"Please." It was a level of politeness that Charles hadn't been shown, but he offered it regardless. "Clearly, a promise from me means nothing. Will you accept one from your brother? His word that he won't harm you?" Someone had to swallow their god-damned pride. "Mason, please."

Mason: He walked off, didn't he? He damn near asked but knew better. What froze his pace was hearing that Charles had followed. Was the man he loved in danger? Someone would have the good fucking sense to do something. He felt helpless, holding a goddamn phone to his ear.

"The...children...have a right t'know one another. I don't want violence 'round my babies. Of course not."

Xavier: It was just as well that Mason hadn't voiced that concern aloud; it absolutely wouldn't have helped the situation.

Charles was in no danger and wouldn't be, not today or any other day. Xavier just wanted some peace in his own goddamn house, was that so much to ask?

Apparently.

"I do not doubt that your promises are made with full confidence and the best of intentions, Charles, and they are appreciated. But you just heard precisely what my brother thinks of me. Even absent violence, there is open and palpable hostility. My son has the right to know his family, but I won't subject him to that. And I don't think you want to subject your children to that either. This will only work if Mason in his infinite wisdom can find it in himself to pretend he doesn't want my head on a pike and act like he actually tolerates my presence."

Charles: Far too much to ask from Charles Francis Xavier. "I could say the same for you." His tone was clipped, but controlled. Good breeding was all that he had in the face of his rising frustration. "From my vantage, if he wanted your head on a pike, it would be there. Trust isn't going to materialize from nothing, and you can't expect all ground to be ceded on his end. The hostility here isn't only coming from Mason, Xavier. You know your brother. Do you truly believe that he would behave like a brute in front of his own children? I know that if I believed that of him, we'd never have gotten this far."

He ran the hand not gripping his phone like a vice through his hair. "We're all adults, perfectly capable of civility."

Mason: "Fuckin' pot t'kettle." Charles was trying so hard. This was just going to be another reason he'd find him drinking in the study, or in their bedroom, or in the kitchen with a spare moment. He couldn't have that.

He would wait for a beat after Charles, waiting for something. When that something didn't come he said, "The children will never know a thing." Perhaps Rory would see a change in aura, but nothing outwardly.

Xavier: He had never longed for peace and quiet more than he did in this moment. This was meant to be his sanctuary, and barring divine intervention, there mere mention of Mason would always cause discord.

"Oh, I've extended my share of olive branches so believe me, I'm not the one who has trouble ceding ground or whose first instinct is to make insulting remarks."

Xavier took a careful, measured breath. He would not give either of them the satisfaction of making him lose his composure completely. "If the two of you would be so kind as to extend me the courtesy of allowing me to consider the matter, you'll have my answer in a fortnight. And Charles, because I am capable of civility, you may finish out your visit as planned. My staff will see to your needs. Now, you'll excuse me."

Xavier was going to his library and the door would be locked behind him.

Charles: His mouth tightened, at that, but he knew well enough to keep biting remarks to himself.  Charles was not one to let his temper rule him. "Of course. Thank you." Consideration was far better than an outright 'no.' He'd take it.

For someone so confident in his own courtesy, Xavier seemed quick to shut the door in a guest's face. Another remark the telepath would keep private. He wouldn't stay. Clearly, his welcome had run its course, no matter what the demon had said. He'd be grateful for the mere inches they'd progressed, this afternoon, and return home to his children. He turned away from the door and started back the way he'd come, switching the mobile off of speaker and pressing it to his ear. "That went well, I think," he murmured to Mason, on the verge of bursting into inappropriate laughter. "I'll be home in a bit."

Vincent/Mason: Mason finally blew a breath and slumped against the wall. Holy Hell. That could have been a lot worse. As far as conversations went, Charles wouldn't have known how relatively peaceful that had been.

"Have the bird bring ya home already."

Vincent was following Hamilton around, buzzing his ear with questions of Leon and when, when was Hamilton going to learn magic?

"You're more than a pretty, pretty face. Come on. You need a cauldron!"

Hamilton: Hamilton didn’t mind, answering Vincent’s questions as he cleared up and made his way to the kitchen. “I don’t need a cauldron, Master Vincent,” he chuckled. “I have no magic.”

Charles: "Relax. I'm going to go find him. I love you. Bye."

With that, he'd return to the sitting room they'd been in earlier, searching for Vincent or anyone who might direct Charles to him.

Lydia: Charles would find Lydia at the foot of the stairs, where Hamilton had told her to wait. “Is there anything I can assist you with, Mr. Xavier?”

Charles: How convenient. Charles didn't miss his upbringing, but he could admit that having someone available to assist at any time was lovely.

"Yes, actually. Have you seen Vincent? I believe my visit is over, for today."

Lydia: The slender blonde maid nodded. “Yes, I believe he is in the kitchen. If you’d like to return to the drawing room, I’ll fetch him for you.”

Charles: "Of course. Thank you." Most convenient. He'd do as she suggested and return to the room, reclaim his previous seat and silently speculate on the likelihood of this ever getting any easier.

Hamilton/Lydia: Lydia nodded and went to the kitchen.

Hamilton saw her first. “What is it, Lydia?”

“Mr. Xavier is looking for Master Vincent. He would like to return home. He’s waiting in the drawing room.”

Vincent: Vincent turned to Lydia and pointed. "Do you know magic?" Seemingly ignoring everything said.

Lydia: She smiled. “No, Master Vincent, I don’t.”

Vincent: "You live with a demon!" exclaimed to both.

Hamilton: “He does all the magic,” said Hamilton. “Master Rohan does also.”

Vincent: Sigh. The familiar frowned to both mortals. He wanted more outlets. His finger raised, mouth open - he walked out of the room.

"Charles?" he called before entering the room. "You okay, friend?"

Charles: Charles grunted to his feet, smoothing down his clothes as he did.

"Perfectly well. Thank you, Vincent. But, if we can locate where my bag has been stowed, I'd like to go home."

Vincent: "I'll get it." He would only be a moment. "I've heard they can be worse," he said upon return. Not so much heard as he had seen via memories.

Charles: He nodded, taking his duffle from Vincent and slinging it over his shoulder. "That went better than I expected, honestly. Can't expect to tear down a century's worth of walls in a single afternoon. We might get somewhere, provided they don't kill each other first. Shall we?"

Vincent: "I don't think they will? They're a lot of bark with all gums." He hoped Xavier couldn't hear that; he liked visiting here.

"Ready?" After a beat, and a hand on Charles' wrist, both were transported back to New York, exactly where they had disappeared from.

Vincent placed his hand on the professor's chest as though to brace him from the zero gravity experience.

Charles: He laughed, the sound only ceasing when they were defying the laws of physics.

A smile, when he was on solid ground once more. "Thank you. For the introduction and bringing me home. Give Xavier my thanks and apologies for cutting the afternoon short, when you next see him." There was no reason he couldn't be polite. "I should go and find my demon."

Vincent: "And I'll go console my demon," he smiled. "Hey, maybe you should bring candied ginger with you on these trips. With anyone. Mistress says it helps stomachs."

Charles: "I'll give it a try. Whatever helps."

He gave the familiar's shoulder a pat, and would wait for him to leave before heading inside. "I'll see you."

[idk-dolans]

V for VANDALISM (E.D.)

WARNINGS: swearing, bad words, explicit content i think???

I really hope you’ll like it just as much as I do and please let me know your opinion on this one! It’s my first E fic this long and I’m nervous😂

Vandalism (/ˈvand(ə)lɪz(ə)m/) - an action involving deliberate destruction of or damage to public or private property.

“Hello?” Her soft voice answered, shifting her position in the bed so that she can talk properly at the phone. He bit his lip, feeling a hint of remorse for waking her up at this hour.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

She looked around them every now and then almost too afraid to get caught. She’ll be in big trouble if anyone sees her with him, or even worse, if her father sees them together. She knew it’s wrong to be out at this hour of the night in the presence of the most wanted vandaliser in town. Everyone wanted to find who is the one that destroys the walls and masterpieces around New Jersey, everyone wanted to put their hand on him and punish him just as the law demands it to be punished. But he was way too smart for them. He never gets caught.

Ethan saw her retention and looked at her beautiful face while putting his hood on his head. He held in front of her his red bandana, waiting for her to take it and put it on her face just as he taught her a few months ago when he brought the courage to finally ask her on these adventures of his, afraid she might not like it or find them boring. She looked in his hazel eyes which appear darker due to the surroundings and she took the bandana from him, brushing delicately her fingers on top of his hand. While never breaking eye contact, she put it on, letting it fall around her neck and she pulled her hood over her head just as Ethan did. He looked at her adorringly before coming closer and pressing his lips on her forehead for a few seconds, taking a step back afterwards.

“I’m scared.” (Y/N) whispered, embracing herself with her cold hands in an attempt of heating her body a little in the cold night.

“Do you trust me?” Ethan asked, coming closer again. He looked down at her, seeing the cute little gesture she does with her feet but he abtains his chuckle.

“Of course I do!” She scoffed. “It’s just… I told you, if my father ever catches us it’s end game for both of us!” Her voice became louder with each word and Ethan just stood there, watching and listening to her. He was a little scared too to be honest, he didn’t want her to get in trouble because of him mainly because her Father was a cop… and not any cop. Her Father was the head of the main police station in New Jersey and when you have a parent inside the law, you can’t allow yourself to bring such shame to him and your family. Sure, when something happen he can always run and escape, but leaving her behind it’s not good for any of them for so many reasons. During the day everything is good, but once the night settles… everything changes and he takes these risks only because he loves her and wants her to experience something new, to feel the adrenaline he feels every night and to accept his world just like it is, to accept him.

“I don’t want that, Ethan.” She continued when she saw his response delays to appear. She comes closer and put his hood down, locking her hands through his dark hair, a thing Ethan loved. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead on hers, letting out a sigh.

“It won’t happen, (Y/N).”

**

“Okay, I think it’s safe for us to stop.” Ethan shouted after (Y/N) who was running ahead of him and she didn’t seem to stop any time soon. They were both laughing like crazy as the sky lightens in streaks of pink and orange and clouds are lit from the bottom in a fiery glow. Sunrise intensifies with each minute, growing brighter and sharper, and visibility improves as night is cast off. Their laughs stop just as fast as they began, only big smiles remaining on their faces while Ethan comes closer to his girl. She looks up at him and he push delicately a strand of messy hair behind her ear, inching closer to her face. Her eyes seem heavy and her cheeks were a light color of red due to her hysterical laughing and the cold that pierced her face as she ran. He was impressed with her running skills, she literally surpassed him. But maybe that happens when you tell someone to run for their life, he actually feels a little bad. Ethan decided to take (Y/N) on that side of the city where it can’t happen anything bad if someone saw you because there are not security cameras and other things that might compromise their adventure but while he was “tagging” a wall with his signature, a man saw them and started shouting after them. (Y/N) almost screamed and she could feel her air caught up in her throat while Ethan casually catched her arm and started running in the opposite direction. They finally made it downtown and stopped running.

“I must admit it, beautiful, I’m hurt and impressed.” He let out a laugh, moving his hand to the back of her head and her smile grew bigger. “Maybe you’re not just a book-worm after all.” He rolled his eyes jokingly and this time she let out a laugh. Even though they wanted to stay like this forever, the tale must come to an end.

“I think it’s time for me to go…” (Y/N) began slowly. “I don’t want my father to wake up and find out I’m not home.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed, looking into her caramel eyes that always seem to melt into his own hazel eyes whenever he watched her. He cupped her face with his other hand and pressed his lips to her cold ones in a short and sweet kiss. “Take care, beautiful.” He then kissed her forehead and she nodded before kissing him one more time. She smiled and turned around, heading home and leaving Ethan watching her tiny sillouette until she dissapeared around the corner.

(Y/N) tried to walk faster while adjusting her hood on her head and then putting her hands in her hoodie’s pockets. Ethan’s bandana hung loosely around her neck and the smell of his cologne invaded once again her nostrills. She took in his scent she adored so much and tried to calm down a little. It basically just started to light outside, her father won’t be up until at least 6:30 o'clock. Shrugging that off, she anyway started to walk faster just because she was cold and tired and she wanted to throw herself on her bed and drift off to sleep, but the morning air caught up in her throat when she saw her father’s car in the distance, driving down the dimly lit and desserted alley. She stopped dead in her tracks, her heart beating like crazy and she ran toward the corner of the street, praying that he didnt see her. She took her phone out, checking the time, confusion washing over her face. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning, what was going on? She decided it was best for her to arrive home as fast as she could so she started running down the alley that led behind her house. Looking around, she didn’t saw anyone or anything out of ordinary, it was really quiet, only the birds started chirpping. She went inside the house, closing the door slowly behind her so that she won’t make any noise and tip-toed through the house and up the stairs until she entered her room. She let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding and threw herself on the bed, falling asleep almost instantly after she closed her eyes.

____________

Ethan woke up around noon, a little alerted. (Y/N) didn’t call him nor texted him and he started worrying a little, it was unusual for her to do this but as he was complaining about it, his phone buzzed beside his pillow. He turned over, taking the phone in his hand, a smile appearing on his face when he saw the name of his girl on his phone’s screen. He opened her message, his smile growing bigger with each word read.

“Hi handsome! :) sorry to bother you if you’re sleeping but I just got you something and I’m excited for you to see it. I’ve also bought a few pancakes from that place you love so much and I’m waiting for you at our bench.

Hurry! They’ll get cold! 💋”

**

“Am I late?” Ethan shouted from the distance, bringing (Y/N)’s attention back. She smiled, looking at him riding his BMX closer to her until he hopped off of it, letting it down. She closed the book she was currently reading and placed it in her open backpack, turning back again to Ethan.

“I think you made it, the pancakes aren’t that cold.” She put her hand under her chin as if she was thinking then let out a giggle. Ethan’s heart grew bigger at the girl in front of him if that’s even possible and he had this stupid smile on his face. He couldn’t resist anymore and stepped closer, cupping her face with his hands. Pressing a soft and loving kiss on her lips he knew in that moment he was the luckiest guy in the world. She smiled shyly at him before breaking eye contact. “I have something for you!” (Y/N) said excited, searching inside her backpack while Ethan took one of the pancakes. He let out a moan and rolled his eyes.

“These are so fucking good!” He grumbled, his voice a little muffled because of the amount of food he had in his mouth. (Y/N) frowned and turned to him.

“Language, young man!” She said through gritted teeth and for Ethan she was the most adorable thing in the entire world. He chuckled but decided to play along.

“Sorry!” He let out, swallowing. “They are just too delicious.” He shoves the rest of the pancake in his mouth before taking a seat beside (Y/N). She took his hand in hers and placed the book in the palm of his hand. He looked curiously, taking it from her.

“Verity, huh?” He asked, turning the book over. “I’ve never heard of Colleen Hoover.” He admitted and (Y/N) let out a laugh. Of course he never heard of her, he only read the few books (Y/N) gave him. It was kind of like a tradition - she would give him a book, he’ll read it and then he would “transform” his art to fit the content of the book. It was really romantic for him and in that way, (Y/N) knew as well he read the books. “Tell me a little about it, why Verity?”

“I chose this book for you because I’m sure you’ll love it.” She began to spoke and Ethan stopped all of his movements, keeping the book in his hands and listening to her voice. “What I’ve come to appreciate most about Colleen Hoover’s work—whether it’s an emotionally charged love story or in this case, her first go at suspense—is her penchant for pushing boundaries. For telling the unexpected story.”

“And how do you know I’ll love it?” He asked, not turning to look at her. (Y/N) smiled.

“This storyline is dark, and the lives of the characters that inhabit the pages are far from perfect, so don’t kid yourself into thinking this is something it’s not. Verity is horrifying, maddening, and what-the-hell-inducing, but it’s also sustenance for that looking to satisfy a craving for something different.” She explained, leaving him dumbfounded as always. He didn’t say anything so she continued. “I’m sure you’ll like it because you too are different and that kind of person that people always judge by its cover and catalogs as something that it’s not when in reality, you hold a lot of a different story.” He listened to her talk, her voice soothing him and they stood in silence for a few moments before he turned to her.

“Thank you, (Y/N)! It means a lot to me and I really appreciate it!” She smiled widely at him and kissed his cheek lovingly.

“Hope you’ll manage to read a few chapters until tonight, I want to go on another adventure.” She winked at him and Ethan’s smile grew bigger.

____________

“Dad? Are you home?” (Y/N) shouted from the front door, getting rid of her barely there-black sandals. She let her backpack down and looked around, going straight to the living room.

“Yes, cupcake, I’m in the kitchen!” He shouted from where he was and (Y/N) cringed a little at the nickname. She didn’t mind though, that meant he’s in a good mood. She entered the kitchen, seeing her father there in his cop uniform. He was eating a bowl of cereals with fruit yogurt and looked ahead of him at the tv on the counter.

“Hey, I woke up when you left this morning, it was quite early.” She spoke softly and her father hummed in response.

“They called me for another graffiti.” He answered, not looking at her. “It was at the end of the city, but they ran before we could arrive.” (Y/N) shifted uncomfortably next to the table, it was the same spot she and Ethan were a few hours ago. Thank God they left immediately.

(Y/N) took an apple from the table and sat down on a chair beside her father. She turned her head to the tv as well and saw the images on the news, feeling her stomach tighten. They were talking again about the vandalisers, about Ethan.

“Why don’t they let them be? I don’t see anything wrong with the graffers.” She scoffed, taking another bite from her apple. Mr. Dawson threw her a look before turning again to the tv.

“You don’t understand and I’m not expecting you to do so.” He began to speak, not looking at her. “These vandals damage the surroundings and I’m not gonna allow that. Not in my city!” He continued, turning to her this time. It wasn’t fair.

“I think what they do can be called art. Have you seen the ones done by V? They are amazing and contain every kind of color and themes.” She tried to change her father’s mind, but he only glared at her. “He did that wonderful and dark landscape on the front wall of the Penitentiary, how amazing was that?”

“Oooh, you’re talking about that one that also graffed the Police Station wall with A.C.A.B. and signed under it with V for VANDALISM.” Mr. Dawson tried to sound excited but (Y/N) felt the irony and anger in his voice and let out a long sigh, turning her head to the tv again. All she hopes for is that Ethan or any of his friends won’t get caught.

“Admit it, they draw on the most secure buildings, full of cameras and guardians on every step and they somehow still managed to never get caught. They are really smart.” She shrugged, taking a few more bites from her apple and watched as her father took his bowl and put it in the sink.

“No, dear, I think they are just a bunch of hooligans who only try to cause trouble around the city.” He chuckled but his daughter saw it wasn’t a real one, he wasn’t amused, he was frustrated that this bunch of hooligans were a lot smarter than all the cops in the city. Now (Y/N) was amused.

“Whatever.” She threw the apple spine in the trash and turned around. “Dad?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Is it okay if I go out tonight with Ethan and our other friends?” She asked in that sweet voice of hers and her father couldn’t tell her no. Also he knew Ethan and liked him very much so he knew his daughter is in good hands. Oh, if only he knew…

“Yeah, I don’t have any problem with that. I’m on my night shift anyway, just be careful!”

____________

“Some families are lucky enough to never experience a single tragedy. But then there are those families that see to have tragedies waiting on the back burner. What can go wrong, goes wrong. And then gets worse."  (Y/N) almost hummed the quotes as they walked toward the meeting point. Ethan started smiling and passed his right hand through his hair just as he intertwines fingers with the delicate girl to his left.

"The Crawford’s have experienced devastating tragedy in the loss of their twin daughters. Lowen can’t help but feel sympathy for the grieving Jeremy and his remaining son. Then she uncovers Verity’s unfinished autobiography. Page upon page of bone-chilling, psychotic admissions. As Lowen uncovers Verity’s deepest, darkest secrets, things between her and Jeremy begin to intensify.” Ethan explained, proud of himself after he finished and he looked down at (Y/N), seeing how she was already eyeing him with adoring eyes so he winked at her. She looked somewhere else, feeling her cheeks heating up and Ethan let out an angelic laugh, stoping and coming in front of her. She put her hands on his chest while he carefully cupped her face, almost too afraid she was gonna break in his hands. They were so different, yet so similiar. Even though he comes from a whole different world than her, he just couldn’t let her go for anything in life. He was attracted to her in a way he can’t explain but he wasn’t complaining. (Y/N) was everything for him and she’s the only person that can take his pain away and soothe him with just her voice. He wasn’t like the rest of the boys and she knew that too, he had problems, he was difficult, tough, stubborn and so on but she wouldn’t change a thing about him because she loves him just the way he is and no one in the world can compare to the vandaliser in a hoodie that stole her heart.

“I love you, bub!” He let out after a while of only looking into her eyes; her beautiful and gorgeous eyes he adored so much. (Y/N) smiled and cupped his face as well, taking him down to her for a kiss. He almost did it in a brutal way but his lips became fast sensual above hers and he pulled her closer if that was even possible.

“I love you.” She whispered, giving him a sweet “butterfly kiss” and Ethan could feel his little heart beating faster.

“Hey, Dolan!” An unknown voice spoke, making (Y/N) frown a little and looking up to Ethan with an eyebrow raised. He took her hand back in his and dragged her among him towards the boy. He wore a snapback over his dirty blonde hair as they could see from that little gap. He had piercing blue eyes, a silver nosering and a lot of tattoos, one of them being visible from under his purple hoodie and up his neck. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder while letting out the smoke from his cigarette.

“Ivan.” Ethan greeted him coldly. “It’s been a while.” He spoke again, a look of pure boredom on his face. (Y/N) stood a little behind him, tightening her arms around Ethan’s and she looked up at the boy. He screamed clearly trouble.

“Is this your girl?” Ivan ignored Ethan, putting all of his attention on the small girl beside him. She gulped and wanted to take a step back while Ethan remained still. “She’s very pretty!” He exclaimed, turning his attention back to the man that was now almost fuming. He wanted to punch him in the face and erase that stupid smirk of his but he tried to remain calm and keep his composure. He didn’t want to scare (Y/N).

“Are you done?” Ethan asked, his voice and face stone cold. (Y/N) looked at him, embracing him now, afraid he might say or do something bad.

“Oh wow, just offering a compliment.” Ivan laughed, throwing the cigarette-butt away. “I’m sorry if I offended you.” He smiled to both of them but Ethan was still imagining how he could crush his head.

“Come on, E.” (Y/N) spoke softly to him, not breaking eye contact with Ivan. “Let’s go!” She said a little louder this time, pulling Ethan’s hand. He obeyed without any words and started walking again to the meeting point, leaving Ivan behind.

After arriving and meeting each other, the boys and even a few girls started exchanging the spray cans they needed. (Y/N) bit her lip, the thought of her father catching them tonight making her shiver. She looked down to where Ethan stood, putting the spray cans in his bag.

“E?”

“Yes, love?” He answered instantly, not turning to her. She bit again her lip, then spoke.

“My father is driving around the city tonight.” Ethan stopped his movements, taking in what she just said and her gaze was fixed on the back of his head. He chuckled before turning to her.

“Are you scared?”

“Yeah…”

“Me too.” Ethan admitted lightly before getting up and approaching her. She widened her eyes, then furrowed her brows and sighed.

“We’ll be good.” She assured him and he nodded before taking his bag and putting it on his shoulder.

**

(Y/N) didn’t have that much fun in her entire life and she was a whole new person when she was with Ethan. He couldn’t even finish the draw he was currently trying to make because he was looking at her continuously. She took one of Ethan’s sprays and shakes it before coming to the wall. She draws a crossed V which she then embraced it in a heart. Ethan smiled and came to where she stood, adjusting the shaky heart she made, looking adorringly at it.

“Thank you for showing me the night life.” She spoke over his shoulder, smiling widely and Ethan turned to her, leaving the spray can down.

“You like it?” He asked, coming closer, putting his hands on her hips. She was so little in Ethan’s hands and that thought alone made wonders in his mind, remembering those times they made love in his room, on those same mattress that keep all the secrets and memories they both shared.

“I love it!” She exclaimed, her eyes having that specific shine. He kissed her, a kiss full of love and passion that stopped way too soon for their like.

“Dolan! We have problems!” Annelisse shouted from the distance, running towards them. She was Ivan’s sister and Grayson’s girlfriend. Even though her brother was a big asshole, she was really chill and didn’t cause any trouble to the people around her beside the cops that wanted her too for her art. She tried to make Grayson to come with her in these adventures at night just as Ethan did with (Y/N) but he wasn’t in for it. He loved her, of course, but the danger was too much for him and he couldn’t risk it. Annelisse was kind of jealous of their relationship but somehow happy that Ethan found the perfect girl for him. His face always lit up when he talked about her and just a few days ago he told the boys he wanted to surprise her with a graffiti, but not too soon. Not after what happened.

“What’s going on?” Ethan turned to her, observing the tears in her eyes and panick in her voice. She was franticaly looking around them. Something bad happened.

“They got Ivan! They picked him up!” She screamed, more tears coming down her face now. (Y/N) and Ethan’s faces were shocked and they just looked at her in disbelief. “We need to leave! Now!” She screamed once again before the sirens of the police’s car started hearing again in the distance. Ethan turned to (Y/N) who began to panick, tears forming in her eyes as well and he put his hands on her cheeks, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Breathe, baby! I’m here! Nothing’s gonna happen, okay?” He tried to calm her down, breathing in and out in sync with her, wiping away her tears. “Just follow me.” He kissed her forehead then took the rest of the spraying cans, stuffing them in his bag. “Everyone! Hurry!” He shouted over to the rest of the people, taking (Y/N)’s hand in his before starting to run. The sirens were too close and the noise began to feel unsupportable for their ears. They all started running after Ethan. The sirens echoed through his head and he heard them from everywhere around him, making it hard for them to realize where they actually come from. His fear transformed instantly in panick and pure dread when they ran just around the block and five cars of police were waiting for them there, with the flares-up in red and blue. They stopped abruptly in front of the headlights, mouths agape. They don’t have any chance to run now, they are surrounded.

“Everyone down on their knees!” (Y/N) heard what sounded like her father’s voice shouting at them and her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure though, everything now in her head buzzed and her sight was blurry due to her tears that threatened to fall any time now on her cold cheeks.

“As for you, young lady, I’m so dissapointed in you!” She knew for sure now that it was her father. She finally let the tears fall and sobbed hardly, looking how he approached her. “If only I knew my daughter hangs out with you…” He looked over to Ethan who just stood in front of her father, not being able to do or say anything. “I’ll make sure you won’t be near her again, am I clear?” He shouted at Ethan and he gulped, letting his head down.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. (Y/N), get in the car, we’ll have a talk at home. You’re in a lot of trouble, young lady!” Mr. Dawson was now in front of his daughter who didn’t seem to listen to him.

“No.” She said between sobs and all of the eyes were now on her.

“I beg your pardon?” Her father looked at her confused, anger evident in his voice now.

“Baby, what are you do-”

“I said no!” She brought up the courage to shout at him and Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes and ears just as her father. “I’m not going anywhere, Dad!” She continued, not knowing what made her do this but she didn’t complained. She was sick of this situation.

“Enough with these nonsenses!” Mr. Dawson was the one who screamed now and everyone got silent. “Go get them!” He shouted at the cops before they rushed to catch the vandalisers. (Y/N) screamed when she saw two of them put their hands on Ethan and she tried to stop them before she felt a pair of strong arms catching her from behind. Everything around them slowed down and with only a few seconds left, they both strrugled in the arms of the cops to make a step toward each other. Their lips caught each other in a desperate kiss full of all the fear and passion they had in them. It was that kind of kiss that made everything around them stop and just live the moment; the kind of kiss that said “please, don’t leave me!” and “don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

They were both hardly pulled apart and (Y/N) looked at Ethan who mimicked those three words that made her world sink in an infinite abyss, her heart breaking into pieces.

“I love you.”

____________

“What is it guys?” (Y/N) asked Jake and Isaac, another two friends of Ethan and graffers. They somehow managed to escape that night, two months ago to be exactly. Since then, (Y/N) seemed to lost all of her shine, they took her happiness from her, they took her Ethan and she swore she’ll never gonna forgive her Dad for it. She sometimes visits and hangs out with Grayson, just so that he can forget about the tragedy too. Annelisse was caught and with that, Grayson’s world sunk deeper than (Y/N)’s. They got his brother and his girlfriend.

“Uhm, we wanted to show you something for a while and we decided that now is the moment.” Isaac spoke, a little awkward because they didn’t know how to behave in front of her now, not after all that happened.

“Just… Close your eyes or something, it’s not that far.”

**

“Okay, you can open them! Take your time, we’ll wait for you at the corner of the street.” Jake spoke this time, taking off his hands of her shoulders, taking a few steps back. He dragged Isaac after him and left (Y/N) there.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the most beautiful and realistic graff of them all. There, just a few steps ahead of her, on the white wall were two people; a boy, which was down on one knee, nikes on, shorts, a black hoodie -which hood covered up his head so that you could see only his nose and mouth from the profile- and in his hand he had a red rose that he offered to the other person: a girl that was looking down at him, sandals on, light pink dress and her hands were on her face, not believing the gesture. Next to the amazing drawing was the same crossed V, embraced in a little heart. (Y/N) came closer, a big smile on her face and her eyes fell down in front of the wall.

The same red rose was waiting for her together with a white paper. She took them up, her smile growing wider and she opened the paper.

“Okay so this is like the 4th or 5th page I’m trying to write cause letters are not my thing.” She read on the paper, letting out a laugh and knowing immediately this was Ethan.

“I don’t know how to start this and obviously I don’t know how I’ll end it either but I’m gonna try for you.

I hope you like the graff you just saw because I wasn’t able to see it. It was a surprise I had in plan for you for a long time now but I couldn’t do it anymore… I hope those fucks guys that did it nailed it cause if they didn’t, I’m gonna rip of their heads when I come out.

I’m sorry I’m not that kind of boyfriend that you always find in books and can stay with you everyday and make you happy. I’m sorry for the trouble I brought to you and I hope you can forgive me. I know I have a lot of defects but I’m working so hard on them and to be a better person. You taught me a lot of things and I’m so grateful for that, for you, that even after what happened I still have you in my life. I’m a really lucky guy.

I took the books from you here and I already finished them, it’s really boring here and the food is crap. But don’t worry, I’m fine! I didn’t drop the soap ;) (omg that was so bad, I’m sorry). I have a few more months of staying here and after that we can finally see each other! I’m extremely excited about it!

Anyway, tell Grayson I said "hi!” and to not worry cause me and Annelisse are okay and we’re missing him!

I hope I’ll see you again in no time baby cause I miss you so, so, so much and I want to see your beautiful face again.

I love you, bub!“

Tears fell uncontrolably down her face and she let out a few sobs, raising her eyes to look again at the beautiful picture in front of her. She misses him so much it hurts.

"I love you too, E!”

____________

THE END

[honestsycrets]

My Darling Alice

↳ Modern France 

Author’s Notes | Happy birthday to my sweetest Alice! Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday happy birthday happy birthday to you!

❛ pairing | Hvitserk/Alice @alicedopey

❛ word count | 2344

❛ genre | Angst and floof!

❛ summary | She feels bad. Hvitserk wants to make his girl feel like the princess she is.

The decision to leave and never, ever come back was probably the best one he made in years. Denmark was great. Sure, he missed his home and the people there. Especially Ubbe… but Ubbe promised he’d visit Argenteuil. It wasn’t like his little wife wasn’t bubbling at the prospect of visiting the town so close to Paris. The sights! The food! The beautiful language he had fallen for off of the tip of her tongue.

Blip! Hvitserk sticks his hand into his hoodie, snatching up his smartphone. The first message that pops up is from his mother. Miles away but carrying her son in her heart. Hvitserk glazes his eyes over the message.

Mor

Have you gotten Alice’s gift?

He blinks, swishing his thumbs across the small little flat screen in front of him. Of course he had gotten her something! That was why he was going home, raspberries and dark chocolate, planning to create his blonde haired girlfriend something special tonight.

Hvitserk

Yours or mine?

A small grey comment pops up, complete with three little bubbles as if to signal that his mother was typing. He comes upon his street. 14 Avenue Etienne, he turns into the gate, pressing it open while reading the text message. Dewy drops of water plop onto his bun from the high arching trees.

Mor

Mine. Did you forget her birthday was today?

Hvitserk

No Mor, no.

Of course not, he could never, ever forget! Especially not with the pressure Aslaug was pushing on him to find someone his age. Hvitserk sighs as he knows this is exactly the sort of rhetoric that had his sweet Alice in a bundle of nerves every time the holidays came along. He fumbles with the key to enter his shared home. Big, cloppy feet meet him right away. Bright dopey eyes and a silky, freshly groomed coat make up his woman’s favourite pup. Hvitserk kneels before the dog that thought himself a pup, tickling his fingers along the emerald fabric of his collar.

“Hey dopey face.” He chides. “Where’s your mor?”

The long eared dog tilts and looks behind him. Still in bed, he assumes. He hopes that last night’s hard pounding when have kept her there too. He had to run out and get these groceries. Hvitserk sneaks the English Cocker Spaniel a treat, unbagging the sweetness that he had ran out to get.

“Hvit?” She calls.

Hvitserk drops what he was doing, kicking off the black boots in which his joggers were stuffed into. Then he makes his way into the second floor, flinging his boots in the closet where they belonged. He strides over to the window overseeing a rod iron balcony, white shutters decorating the side of their newly owned home. Past the roar of cars, the soft chirps of birds seep into the room.

“Joyeux anniversaire!” He sings while sliding into bed with her, sneaking his arms around her soft sides to pull her close. Then his lips press against the side of her neck, placing a few sneaky kisses down against her neck.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do anything this year but stay in bed.” Alice says.

Sure, he made that promise. When he was drunk off his ass and looking to say anything for a lay. What kind of man would he be if he forgot it? He knew that Alice was only trying to hide the fact that she was now easily ten years older than him for some silly reason!

“You know you can’t hold me to anything I say when I’m drinking tequila.” Hvitserk lifts up from her neck. Dopey face trudges in while Hvitserk gently nuzzles back into her neck. “Besides, my Belle, how could you ask me that?”

It was worth a try.

“After a while, Hvitserk, a girl’s birthday loses its magic.” Alice says. Hvitserk lifts again, this time rolling a golden piece of hair through his fingers. “Then you’re… old.”

Her voice is downtrodden. He knows despite that hard front she tries to present that this really does bother her. After all, ‘just old’ wasn’t something to aspire to. There were plenty of hot, sassy or sweet older women that would beat out other women a thousand to one! It was just making his sweet Alice understand that.

“Don’t think that goes for French girls, right? They don’t age quick! And when they do… it’s like fine wine, ma Belle.” Hvitserk knows he’s scooping up trouble when he says the words, fully taking the bop to the back of his head in stride. Alice would always be his little Belle-- maybe a Beauty and the Beast reference.

Hvitserk! She warns.

“That was cheesy, right? I’m sorry it’s true!” He laughs, about to make another joke about French cheese when she gives him that look. Better to shut up while he’s ahead! The little Danish prince rolls over her, enjoying the difference in her body against his when he pulls her in, daring his lips to take hers in for smooth and gentle kisses. He was a slender but  muscular boy and her body had all the more to enjoy. God, she was like the fine desserts that he made at work. Anyone knew Hvitserk knew that he couldn’t help himself with dessert!

“Come on, get dressed in that sexy little sundress and come downstairs. Dopey and I were making something good!” Hvitserk prods, letting his hands sneak down under her night dress. “Then I have a surprise.”

“Do I have to?” Alice runs her fingers through her blonde hair, running her hand up to set her palm to her forehead. Hvitserk shifts off of her and offers out his hand to her left one.

“Or I’ll take Dopey hostage.”

Well, he wasn’t going to do that! Alice shifts off the side of the bed, giving Hvitserk her hand. He walks her to the bathroom and kisses the top of her head. Inside of the bathroom was Hvitserk’s favourite green dress that went with her blue eyes. A little sexy... okay maybe a little more than a little-- and a little playful too.

“I’ll see you downstairs.” He slips away.

Down the stairs, Hvitserk was swaying with content. Of course he got his way! He was Hvitserk! But as his hips bobbed to the tune of L’Hymne à l’Amour on his radio he knew that he had to keep her going.

“Think you can swim at the beach today Dopey?” He flicks his head over at the muddy brown cocker spaniel, twisting his head before lazily dropping it back on one of the Harry Potter book plushies he’d bought the dog for Christmas.

“Yeah,” Hvitserk muses. “Didn’t think so.”

Hvitserk hears her coming down the steps some time later, spinning around a wooden utensil while making his proud crepes. After all, he was in culinary school to be a chef. That was how he met her shopping through sweet macarons.

“Bet I can make you one better.” God, he remembers that cheesy pick up line, inviting her to sit down with him at his apartment. Totally not creepy. But… she took him up on it after a few dates. He watches her bend down by Dopey who lays by his feet, petting his thin coat while Hvitserk cooks. He lines the freshly taken off a dark chocolate crepe with banana and raspberries, his woman’s favourite

“Go look at your presents.” He rolls the crepe smoothly, powdering it with sugar and whipped cream he made himself. He plates one and then proceeds to make his own, tippy toeing over Dopey to place it in front of her.

“What did you get me?” She takes the fork, cutting the thin crepe and taking a bite.

“Guess.” Hvitserk grins.

“A new puppy, obviously.” Alice peeps into the bag. She dips her fingers in and plucks out a book. An aged dark red book with golden detailing along the spine. Alice gazes at the golden queen set within a golden circular icon: the queen. As she turns the book to look at the spine it reads: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

“It’s not a first edition. I mean, it’s close!” He lets her know, rubbing the side of his arm. “But its… I mean I thought you’d like it.”

“Of course I do.” She opens the book, flipping through the pages that smell like antique books. It’s soft pages are gentle to the touch. Inside the book are two tickets. Alice tugs them free, looking to the cheesy golden like ticket. A key is strapped down against the brown cardstock decorated in golden lettering. Alice pulls it free, looking to the one on the first, flipping if over to find a little picture of their first derpy little kiss posted online.

“What’s this?”

“The key to my heart?” Hvitserk says cheesily, beaming. She gives him that look as if his cheesy answer wasn’t appreciated! Hvitserk shifts to wash the dirty dishes with a little flush on his cheeks. “It’s a birthday bookmark! To thirty four more years with you at least!”

Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned thirty four more years because he notices her face drop in disappointment… or maybe, she was remembering how old she was turning. Shit, fuck. Hvitserk curses himself for being unable to hold his tongue. It sounded better in his head. He notices it before she even says anything. It’s almost like she’s always in her head.

Always witing for Hvitserk to go find someone his age or turn his head to stare at an ass in public. Okay, so maybe he did stare sometimes. But that wasn’t because his girl wasn’t delectable with her curves. It was in these moments that he knew that Alice needed more attention, more love. Something to keep her off of thought of her age.

“Sing me something.” Hvitserk says.

Alice gives him a blank stare. What? He reads it more in her face. Irrelevant! He has this covered. Sing so terribly, because he could never sing, that Alice would have to drown out his squawky voice with hers.

“J’irais jusqu’au bout du monde, je me ferais teindre en blonde, si tu me le demandais!” Hvitserk’s voice kicks up enough that she has to cringe, holding her hands up. Spare me, spare me! He sweeps around the table, swirling her into several spins out into the front yard. Yet still singing that terrible song. “J’irais décrocher la lune, j’irais voler la fortune, si tu me le demandais!”

“Arrête! Stop, stop, stop!” She laughs, the sun fresh on her skin. The fresh wind swirls against her legs to blow up her skirt. It’s a nice day. The wind is just so light, the flowers of the garden on either side of the pathway into the house spring with lush purplish flowers that Dopey would usually make it a habit to eat.

“Sing for me Alice!”

“Just sing for him!” A onlooker calls out, her voice as creaky as Hvitserk’s. Old Emilie across the street that had nothing to do but sit on her porch and watch the youthful speak. “He’s terrible!”

“But-- but!”

“Fine I’ll show you!” The old woman says. In a few mere seconds she begins to sing with fragrant passion, voice heightening with every syllable.  “Je renierais ma patrie, je renierais mes amis, si tu me le demandais.”

In his own excitement, Hvitserk can’t hold himself back from singing with the old woman, swaying side to side in a slow but upbeat dance. “On peut bien rire de moi, je ferais n’importe quoi, si tu me le demandais!” His footwork is smooth, sliding over the steps of her rented home with Hvitserk. He takes the lead, guiding her to spin in a few circles around him.

She’d be sick. But maybe she could sing!

“Si un jour la vie t’arrache à moi, si tu meurs que tu sois loin de moi,” Alice’s lips part for a beautiful and decadently deep song. God, Hvitserk feels the chills dancing down his spine. Her talents were wasted teaching! The only benefit to her job were the students she could touch in his opinion. Her voice is different from his Danish twinged french of the old woman’s cracked tongue.

There is something so genuine about her voice.

It’s like the light breeze of wind to a hot day. The quench of drops of water after a long run. But when she sings, it’s with her full heart into anything and everything. He took so long to be able to coerce her into singing for him. As she pulls out of her last spin, Hvitserk steadies her with his hands on hers. Slowly the last of the words drag out. “Si tu meurs que tu sois loin de moi, peu m'importe si tu m’aimes, car moi je mourrai aussi.”

Hvitserk holds her fingers in his until the last of those sweet words touch his ears, eyes closed to encourage himself onward. “Marry me?” He asks stupidly. The timing couldn’t have been worse! He had no ring, no smart words or sweet kisses.

“What?” She laughs in response.

“He said to marry him!” The old woman croaks. How does she have such good hearing again? Hvitserk glances up to her rod iron balcony, smally smiling and lowering onto his one knee. He brings forward her hand to kiss the spot where a ring should have been, glazing his lips gently over it. If nothing else, Hvitserk never did something half ass. He was going to commit to this love struck outburst, got damn it!

“Marry me! We can go to the mairie right now and apply!”

“Now?” Alice asks. What day was it?

“Now or never!” Hvitserk beams, counting down in some mock rush for an answer. A second passes, then another with Miss Emilie counting down above the couple. With only a second to go, Alice bursts out the blubber of an answer. Hvitserk jumps up to his feet before he can hear her answer fully, kissing her between her words.

“Then let us make it now!”

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102

[marshmallowatheart]

To All The Boys I've Loved Before (Part 42)

Van Lowe Investigations, as unappealing as the name is, Veronica does find herself attracted to the trade of it all. It helps that Mac works at the Kane Software store (she didn't know they had a store but Mac's in love with the gadgets and gizmos and the employee discounts that come along with it).

She'd repelled the idea of working for Vinnie Van Lowe but the pull of the investigation part was enough to get her through the door for an interview.

It's grimy - it doesn't feel like an office - it feels like a frat party died in there. She has a good mind to go back home and ask her dad to get her a job at the station. She'd done that last summer - it wasn't official, it didn't really pay, and it didn't exactly challenge her intellect but she's sure it'd be better than whatever this is.

"You're a PI that works in a mall?" She stares him dead in the eye, unimpressed as he eats the last piece of cold left over pizza that looked abandoned for way too long.

"It's temporary," he shrugs, he's uncaring and messy in ways that make her skin crawl. "How cool would it be, right? Me, Batman. You, Robin," he grins, using his fingers to gesture between the two of them. "Batgirl. Whatever."

"You want me to be your side kick?" She curls her lip, nose scrounging up, disgust apparent.

"Of course, the official term would be receptionist," he says, shrugging as he muffles through scattered paperwork.

She feels afraid to breath properly in this room, the messiness makes her fingers itch and she can't help the irksome feeling that takes over. "What would I have to do, exactly?"

"Answer phone calls, set the files, that kinda stuff. But if you want, we can always get you on the field. You're a Mars, detecting is in your blood."

She wasn't expecting him to throw it out to her like that. She'd expected to negotiate her way to the 'detecting' part of it - she felt positive that it wouldn't be part of the job but he's handing it to her on a golden platter.

She's silent as she revels in this and he's stopped fidgeting with his clutter for all of two seconds when he says, "Tell you what, VMars, you convince your dad to let you work here and the job is yours."

--vm--

"Hey, Veronica," Leo smiles in greeting - that happy smile that shows off his pearly whites and his dimples. "How's it going?"

She smiles back, nodding her head as she settles her bag and large white box on the counter. "I'm doing good. It's Christmas break, best part of the year," she chirps and pauses for a moment as she sees the invite for the Sheriff's Department annual Christmas party. She gestures to the poster and asks, "Think Sacks is gonna play Santa again this year?"

"It's either him or Lamb and I don't think Lamb's in a very giving mood."

"Is he ever?" She laughs. Lamb was the Grinch of Christmas. Lamb was the Grinch of the year.

"Are those doughnuts?" He asks, eyeing the white box in front of him. "Can I have one?"

"Sure but only one," she playfully warns, opening it up for him. "Kind of a bribe for my dad."

"Ooh," he laughs, taking a powdered doughnut in his hand. "Bringing out the big guns. You know all you have to do is tilt your head and he'll say yes to anything you want?"

She chuckles, picking up her back and the box. "While true," she says as she moves towards her dad's office. "It wouldn't hurt to get him in a good mood."

"Good luck," he calls out, his mouth full and powder flickering through the air. Veronica grins, giving him a two finger salute.

--vm--

It doesn't take much to get her dad in a good mood because her dad was usually in a good mood. Even when he's had bad days at work (or bad days at home when her mom was around) he'd always smile and ask her how her day was. Keith Mars was special like that.

He was the father that never wanted his daughters to see bad days. And when they did, he always tried his best to make it better.

She smiles as he eats the doughnuts and goes on about Cliff's ideas for the Christmas party. Cliff McCormack was her dad's best friend and public defender - the tales they could tell when put in a room together were unbelievable.

She feels nerves worrying her insides because she doesn't really know how to word her request. Taking in a breath, she tries to sound chipper instead of nervous, "I got a job at the mall today."

"Ah, my action figure daughter in the line of retail business," he quips, eyes landing on her as though he were reading her mind. She tries to maintain her smile and he arches a brow, deadpanning, "You hate the mall."

"I like the food court," she gives him a helpless shrug. "And it's less retail and more sit at a desk and answer the phone kinda gig."

He nods, following her words and says, "You mean a receptionist."

"Mmhmm, that," she swallows, letting out a breath. "It's at Van Lowe Investigations."

She catches the exact moment the shock hits him and she tries to mentally revise her counter points for anything he might say. "You wanna work for Vinnie Van Lowe? You've hated him ever since he stole your lollipop when you were nine years old."

Her brows crease, her debates fade away and she wrinkles her nose. "Was that why? I figured it was just 'cause he's annoying."

"So, pry tell, daughter of mine, why do you wanna work with someone that would steal candy from a kid?"

"Beats serving coffee at Java the Hut," she sighs. "He said I could get on the field if I wanted," she peaks at him underneath her lashes and sees the frown. "Nothing hardcore but like taking pictures. You know I have an affinity for photography. I know most of the work will he tedious tasks but there's more opportunity to learn about the things I like. Plus, I get study time while I'm at work so it's like I'm getting paid to study, isn't that cool?"

"Okay," he says, after moments of silence fills the air.

"Okay?" She squeaks out.

"Okay," he repeats. "I don't want you doing more than what you've told me," he tells her, clear and deliberate.

Her heart pounds against her chest, she wasn't expecting him to give in so easily. Her lips fall into an uneasy smile and she jokes, "So no sorting out the files?"

"Outside of your receptionist duties," he clarifies. "You can take pictures but nothing of the dangerous kind. And when you are going on stake outs, you make sure to take Backup with you. If you're working outside the office area, you need to let me know where you are."

"Okay," she nods, he's talking in an all business manner and she's still stuck on the fact that he's already said okay.

"I want you to do things you enjoy, Veronica and you must really want this if you're willing to work with Vinnie. His moral compass is skewered. He'd rather get a bigger paycheck than do what's right. I don't want you to compromise your morals for a job."

"I won't," she clarifies, her eyes staring into his, silently giving him the thank you that's fluttering inside her.

"You sure you wouldn't rather work at Java the Hut? You'd get employee discount on coffee. I doubt Vinnie's even got a kettle in there."

She laughs, relieved and bewildered as she remarks, "Oh, he is gonna get me a coffee machine."

--vm--

Veronica has her laptop propped up on the centre of the table and pizza from Cho's ready in a cardboard box for them to dig into.

Meg's already pixelated on the screen in her Care Bears pajamas. "Pizza, again?" Meg arches her brow, giving us that disapproving look of hers.

"Would you look at this?" Veronica holds up her pizza and points out, "It's mushrooms."

"And peppers," Heather helpfully adds with an eager smile as she holds up her slice of pizza to the camera too.

"Yeah, covered in greasy cheese," Meg shakes her head. "You better be having fruits for dessert."

"Mmmm," Veronica hums, thinking of adding the maraschino cherry on top of her sundae that she'd been thinking about for the entire day. "For sure, fruits will be involved."

"Have you guys picked out a tree yet? If you wait for me all the good ones will be gone."

"Daddy and I are going tomorrow," Heather chirps her answer. "Ronica's going to Aspen with Logan."

"Dad's letting you go to Aspen with Logan?" Meg lets out, unable to mask her surprise.

"It's not just me with Logan," Veronica says, shooting a glare to Heather. "It's a group thing. Wallace will be there. So will Mac."

Meg makes humming noises in acceptance. "Just be careful, Vee."

"You know me Veronica Overly Precautious Mars," she chimes before biting into her pizza.

"Where's dad?"

"He's on a date with Alicia," Heather provides, happy and proud.

Veronica sighs, she'd wanted to say that dad was working late.

"Wallace's mom?" Meg let's out, her mouth dropping into a surprised open gasp.

"Mmmhmm," Heather hums and details her enthusiasm for the pairing.

Veronica loves Alicia, she loves the whole Fennel family and so does Meg but it's a delicate situation when you find out your dad is going on dates and living a life you don't know anything about. Veronica had wanted to tell her when she got home - break the news in steps so Meg could see it and feel like she was apart of it. She should have expected Heather to spoil her plans of being subtle. Heather is everything but subtle.

--vm--

"Is that coffee I smell? And doughnuts?" Veronica pipes, a smile of awe falling on her face as she reaches Logan.

"A thank you for waking up early," he tilts his head and leans in to meet her mouth. She hums against his lips, kissing him a good morning.

"Keep this up and early bird could be my new nickname," she grins, happily accepting the offered coffee and doughnuts.

It's gonna be a long trip to Aspen but Logan's glad that it's one he's spending with Veronica by his side.

[siodymph]

Disney Femslash Day 6

For “Prince Replacement” I couldn’t resist putting Snow White in Prince Phillip’s shoes. The scene’s just too iconic to not. Hope I did it some justice!

(And just so you guy know, I’m happy to take any requests till the 12th! And if you have made any requests for this fan week you can expect to see them published starting tomorrow and continuing on!)

And as always you’re free to read this story under the cut or over on my AO3! Enjoy!

word count: 2172

Usually Snow stayed in the cottage while the dwarves were at work in the mines. But today was just too lovely of a day to spend inside. The way the sun shined down through the trees and flowers made the whole forest look all the more lovely, she couldn’t resist. Doc and the others had warned her not to wander out lest she get lost or something fowl found her, but she reasoned that she wouldn’t travel far. Just out to the glen where a maze of streams cut through the woods. So after donning her cape, basket in hand and a slew of animals underfoot, she made her way off to the streams.

Along the way she wondered about what she could possibly do today. There were all sorts of flowers and berries that grew near the banks. Perhaps she could collect some flowers and arrange them into vase, bring some color back into the old cottage. Though she’d have to be careful not to pick anything that might make Sneezy have a bad reaction. And as for the berries, her mind had already gone to desserts. Maybe a pie? She could do a buttered, sugar-crust too. Or maybe she could make a cobbler? Or a crumble? What if she squeezed them into a juice? She could cook them down to a sauce, oh and then pair that with some roasted chicken!

When she realized her mouth was watering as she thought on all her possible recipes, she couldn’t help but laugh at herself. She wasn’t even at the glen yet and here she was planning a four-course dinner of berries she hadn’t picked yet! Always the silly songster, with her head stuck in the clouds! That’s who Snow White was, though she truly prided herself on being a good cook and enjoyed every step of the way.

Snow had always loved cooking, even before her father passed away. She remember being very small and wandering through the kitchens before dinner. Watching steam puff out of pots, new different smells coming from all around the room, sometimes the cooks would let her taste tiny spoonfuls of each dish. After her stepmother stripped her of her royal title and put her to work as a child, cooking was one of the few things she found gave her some joy. That, the birds, and singing. But her stepmother never complimented her cooking, never made a single comment about the dishes Snow served her. Most times she didn’t even look at Snow, like she didn’t exist. She was nothing like the Dwarves.

Each evening you would have thought the men hadn’t eaten in years the way they sighed and exclaimed and gushed over the food Snow White made. It had certainly been a surprise to her. She had thought her food had been subpar at best before when she only cooked for her stepmother and her own personal enjoyment. She took time to appreciate cooking even more now that she lived with much kinder and caring people.

Snow’s meandering thoughts of berries and family came to a cold halt though when she heard a lilting voice ring high through the trees. Someone was already in the glen. A stranger.

Not even thinking, she ran and hid. And when she did let herself think again it was all a panicked blur of words. Who was it? Or a worse idea yet, what was it? Grumpy always scarred her with rumors of her stepmother’s hand in the dark arts. What if it was stepmother? What if she had finally found her? Was this an awful trap? She couldn’t do this again! And now she was far from home and all alone. There was nowhere to hide. She felt like she might suffocate with how fast her heart was beating, she could hardly catch her breath. The sun disappeared, the woods sank into murky darkness. Faces grew out of the bark. Eyes glared down at her.

Then she heard a small chirp on her shoulder. It was the sweet, little baby blue bird. He looked up at her with sad worried eyes. When she looked around she realized all her animal friends were worried for her.

“I’m sorry my dears.” She said, still hiccupping to catch her breath. “I didn’t mean to frighten you all. But I think it’s best if we go home for the day. We have no idea who might already be down in the glen. And I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Two fawns gently nudged at her arms, helping her to stand back up. Snow readjusted her dress and cape quietly. Peeking around the tree she’d fallen against, Snow tried to see what the stranger might look like. But she couldn’t see them, whoever they were. Too far away and too many trees and bushes hiding them from her. Only their voice carried out and a small choir of birds’ response. They may be a stranger, but not even Snow could deny they had a wonderful soprano voice. Clean and clear, like waterways themselves in the glen they sang in. Beautiful. Snow had to stop herself before she sang along with the voice, though she couldn’t resist humming a little harmony under her breath.

“Alright my friends, off we go.” She announced, ready to go home.

Till a flash of blue flew off her shoulders zooming out into the woods, towards the glen.

Her heart clenched, she couldn’t run too them, couldn’t run away. She couldn’t even find the voice to beg them to come back. She felt frozen. Oh dear, what if something terrible happened to her sweet little friend? What if the singing stranger wasn’t as kind or as sweet as their lovely voice?

She only felt herself breathe again, a sigh of relief, when she saw her little friend happily flying back. It seemed Little Blue had made some friends and they flew back together in a full flock of birds of every feather from robins and blue jays, to mocking birds, and even an owl. And not just birds, Snow realized, but squirrels and hares too, trailing along the ground under the flock.

As she watched them come back to her Snow could hear the stranger still singing. Snow swore she recognized the melody, though she couldn’t quite remember how.

When the pack approached her she smiled warmly to them all. “Why hello there! How do you do?” Snow said. There was a slight song in her voice though she still tried to speak in a hushed tone. “I don’t think we’ve seen each other before, but I’m delighted to meet you all!”

A few of their birds sang back to her and the Owl gave a hearty hoot, it almost sounded like laughter and Snow giggled back.

“Why, you all seem very sweet. What brings you all down to the glen today?”

They gestured back towards the streams, where the Stranger sang out from.

“Ah, the audience for this singing stranger! Are you friends with them?” They all nodded. “Please tell me dears, if you don’t mind. Is your singer…?” Kind? Friendly? Good? … Safe?

She wasn’t quite sure what to say, but it seemed the woodland creatures understood that. They all smiled to themselves. Then they all scampered a few feet away from her. The Owl gestured to her to follow with one of its large wings.

Follow them? Into the glen to meet a complete stranger? She looked around to all her animal friends. They seemed content to follow the others. Surely if they trusted these new friends, then she could as well?

So swallowing down that last of her fear and nervousness, she followed the flock of birds into the glen. A few of the squirrels and rabbits scampered around her feet, chittering excitedly to one another as they ran circles around her. Snow hoped this would be ok. She knew she could always trust the animals. They would never purposely hurt her or bring her to harm, they were innocent. Yet she felt so scared still. Following these critters to something unknown.

As she got closer, she could make out a dancing figure. They had a giant plume of thick golden hair trailing down well past her shoulder blades. They wore a simple black and grey dress that rose up into a ring whenever the stranger twirled. And when they sang again Snow could make out the words they sang and she felt her heart melt.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream~

I know you that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

And I know it’s true that visions are seldom what they seem.”

She knew this song, Snow knew she knew this song. A lullaby. A ballad of love. A sweet song tucked far back into her memory.

“But if I know you, I know what you’ll do-“

Before she could stop herself, she realized she was singing.

“You’ll love me at once, the way you did once

Upon a dream!”

The stranger had stopped singing. Stopped dancing. Frozen in place. Till she slowly turned around and saw Snow. Her eyes scared before she began to bolt in the other direction down towards the stream.

Oh dear! Snow realized that now she was the mysterious, possibly dangerous stranger lurking about the glen! It seemed like she always got these stranger twists of fate. Oh dear…

“Oh no! Please don’t run away! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you!” Snow called out as she stepped out of the underbrush. The owl and birds were doing their laughing-chittering again. “It’s just, I was on my way to the rivers when I heard you singing! And I followed your friends here and I-Oh dear, I’m so sorry, oh dear…”

The stranger stopped just before she leapt over a brook. Instead they turned back around and looked at her accusingly with her arms crossed. “Who are you?”

“My name is Snow White.” Snow replied with a small curtsey. “I live deep in the woods, near the mountains. I- I came here to pick some berries and wildflowers you see!” Snow said gesturing to her wicker basket.

The stranger relaxed more upon the sight of an empty basket. Though she still looked at the other woman in confusion. “How did you know the song I was singing?”

“Oh, well I’ve heard it’s before.”

“Really? Where?”

Snow White smirked stepping a little closer towards the other. “You said so yourself! Once upon a dream!”

That made the stranger laugh, and she offered her hand to Snow. She grinned and took the hand. And together they danced in circles next to a stream. All while singing and laughing. Until they broke apart, grinning at one another. This was some of the most fun either girl had had in quite some time. All their animal friends watched from afar in the grass and trees, pleased as punch with their handiwork.

“My goodness! You have such a lovely voice!” Snow sighed. How she had been so afraid of this stranger before, she would never know. But her eyes widened in shock when she realized she still didn’t even know her name!

“Oh do forgive me! How could I be so rude? I never even asked you what you name might be!”

“Rose.” She said, pulling some of her golden long hair back over her shoulder. “Briar Rose.”

“Well Ms. Briar Rose, how do you do?” Snow said with a mock politeness, shaking Rose’s hand.

“I do very well, thank you.” She replied back, even her laugh sounded musical. But then her head snapped back and she looked back towards the woods where she came from. “Oh no! No, not now!”

“What is it?” Snow asked worried. Had she done something wrong?

“I have to go now! Goodbye!” She began racing towards the trees.

And before Snow could stop herself she chased after the other woman. “Wait! Please Rose! When can we meet again?”

“I’m sorry I don’t know!” Briar Rose called over her shoulder. She picked up her pace and leapt, completely clearing a stream and stumbling onto the other side. Snow watched in admiration though she was sad to see her leaving. But then just before Rose ran away, she stopped and looked back at Snow. “I live in a cottage! With my Aunts! Down in the Glade!”

“And I live near the mountains with a family of Dwarves! Just a ways past the swamp and marshlands!”

Briar Rose laughed, thinking Snow was telling a joke. “We’ll have to visit one another sometime. Goodbye, Snow White!”

“Gooday to you too, Briar Rose!” Snow waved back, until Rose disappeared from sight between the thick woods and over growth.

As she set off picking berries and collecting wildflowers, Snow caught herself humming that lovely melody. And she hoped she did see Rose again. Though she was certain the two would be singing, dancing and laughing again, at least in her dreams.

[blondshua]

Question Tag

I was tagged by @supersuperroa​! Thank you so much sweetie ♡ sorry it took me long.

I’ll tag @wouhui @jihoomie and @junhwon  ♡

1. Are you named after someone?

Yes, after a character in a soap opera about modelling lol.

2. When is the last time you cried?

Yesterday, I guess... it was watching one of those challenge videos on youtube, it was “Try not to cry kpop challenge”.

3. Do you like your handwriting?

No. I actually stopped writing in cursive because I hated it. I don’t really like my current handwriting but it’s less worse I guess.

4. What is your favorite lunch meat?

I don’t really have a preference. If I had to choose, I think it would be chicken.

5. If you were another person, would you be friends with you?

I don’t know, it depends a lot of how much I knew “myself”. I consider myself friendly and empathetic ugh it looks like i’m boosting ew sorry for this so yeah why not? But I also have more than a few things I dislike about myself so I guess it would depend.

6. Do you use sarcasm?

So much my mom stop talking to me at some point because of it lol.

7. Do you have your tonsils?

Kinda lol I mean, I still have them both, but one of them “”exploded”” once because of a really bad tonsillitis had a few years back.

8. Would you bungee jump?

Definitely. I would probably get scared just before jumping tho. Would still jump anyways.

9. What is your favorite kind of cereal?

I don’t really like cereal. But I guess plain corn cereal?

10. Do you untie your shoes when you take off your shoes?

Never.

11. Do you think you’re a strong person?

I... don’t really know. I used to think I was an emotional mess but lately I’ve kinda come to terms with this and I’ve been learning how to control them. I guess you can say I’m somewhat strong physically.

12. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?

Pistachio and cupuaçu with red fruits (idk how to properly translate this, I’m sorry).

13. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Visually, usually their hair or eyes. Tbh I’m a person very attached to small details, so this is kinda hard for me to pin point since I usually notice a lot of things. I also have a thing for people voices.

14. Red or pink? 

I’ve been addicted to this not-really-red not-really-pink shade lately.

15. What is the least favorite physical thing you like about yourself?

I hate my arms. They just look fat and make me look like some sort of ogre.

16. What color pants and shoes are you wearing now?

Black and black lol my sneakers have a white polka dot pattern tho.

17. What was the last thing you ate?

A kind of sandwich called “beirute” stupid typical food with no translations.

18. What are you listening to right now?

If You - BIGBANG i love listening to sad music when down, it makes it all better :)))

19. If you were a crayon, what color would you be?

Mauve or burnt orange.

20. Favorite smell?

Petrichor (the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil).

21. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone?

My boyfriend.

22. Favorite sport to watch?

I’m not exactly into sports, but I do appreciate watching to figure skating.

23. Hair color?

Orange finally.

24. Eye color?

Red-ish brown.

25. Do you wear contacts?

No, I wear glasses lol.

26. Favorite food to eat?

Hmm sweet things. I love desserts but I prefer the ones that aren’t too sweet.

27. Scary movie or comedy?

Usually I go for scary movies.

28. Last movie you watched?

Shrek 2 LMAO. 

29. What color of shirt are you wearing?

Gray.

30. Summer or winter? 

Winter.

31. Hugs or kisses? 

Hard, but hugs.

32.What book are you currently reading?

I actually bought the last book of the “How to Train Your Dragon” series a few months ago and I still haven’t start it because I don’t want this series to be over :((

33. Who do you miss right now?

My friends I still don’t know irl. Does that make sense? If not, my cat.

34. What is on your mouse pad?

A weird purple koala-like cartoon.

35. What is the last program you watched?

I don’t really watch tv :((

36. What is the best sound?

Gentle rain, birds chirping, the wind blowing against the tree’s leaves, water running slowly.

37. Rolling Stones or the Beatles?

Hm... Beatles? It’s been ages since I’ve listened to either tbh.

38. What is the furthest you have ever traveled?

I sadly never left my country, so maybe 400 km? Idk.

39.Do you have a special talent?

I’m good at identifying sounds I guess... also at noticing small details. 

40. Where were you born

Brazil

[eastithoughtyousaidweest]

Malaysian Persuasion

7/17

Today was my first full day in Malaysia, and it was probably almost perfect.

First of all, it was so chill. Amalen also had just gotten home from a trip to China, so he just wanted to chill out, which was ok with me because I’ve been waking up at 6 or 7am to either work on my doc or travel for the past 3 weeks. So I woke up at 10am without an alarm (after drinking with him and his roommate until 3:30, to be fair), and it was really nice.

We spent the morning just hanging, just like a bunch of guys might do in the U.S. We slowly worked up the motivation to drive down the street to get some breakfast around 11:30am, and got some rice with fried pork and chicken called char suey. Pretty delish, despite being a bit heavier than my usual breakfast. I also found a dude selling buns out of his truck, and he had a bunch of flavors they didn’t have in China; I tried one with this coconut sugary paste inside called kaya, which was less coconut than I expected, but the bready bun was still floofy, which is really all I’m looking for.

We whittled away a few hours eating, chilling and watching the first new episode of Game of Thrones, which I was totally fine with, even though usual me would’ve been like “Why the fuck am I sitting around watching TV while I’m in Malaysia???” But honestly, I saw value in just building a relationship with Amalen and his roommate Kelvin, and didn’t see a need to force anything, especially when they were my hosts.

Anyway, around 2pm, Amalen and I started driving out to this waterfall in the jungle he’d been promising me all day. It was an hour and 20 min drive, but we just caught up and talked the whole way, so it was actually really nice. Before entering the jungle, we stopped and got a bunch of fried snacks from this stand in a parking lot, Amalen chatting up the older Muslim woman selling us the treats as if they were besties. People here at stores seem to really like chatting, and Amalen’s a pro at playing that social game.

To get to where we were going, Amalen had to drive his thankfully tiny white car down a skinny asphalt road, riddled with treacherous potholes, through an indigenous village with homes made of wood and tin roofs, and finally to a barrier where we parked. He comes to that spot a lot, and knew some of the indigenous people there, and he actually spoke in Malay to a few people we saw to make sure it was still ok to enter, so I knew we weren’t being disrespectful or something by entering this land.

And I’m so glad we were able to enter, because it was mind-blowing. Thick, lush, green rainforest all around me, buzzing and chirping with bug and bird hums, crinkling with the panicked retreats of tiny lizards, speckled with the sun sneakily glimmering its way through the cracks. It was sticky and humid, but not too hot. As we went, Amalen pointed plants out to me and showed me signs on the trail of wild boar having been there the previous night. Wild boar are super overpopulated in that area of Malaysia, destroying trails and crops, so Amalen told me hunting them, like deer culling in the U.S., was usually ok. And he broke out a pocket knife he’d sharpen before we came out to the jungle, so I knew if anything, we were at least pseudo-safe.

Luckily, no boar hunting went down. What did go down is that we finally arrived at this amazing waterfall Amalen called his secret waterfall. It flow down along grey boulders, white and frothing, pouring out into a rocky-bottomed pool deep enough to stand in. When we walked up to the waterfall itself, we could face away from it and just let the water work the tension out like a natural massage. The water was not too cold, and the area was totally isolated. We sat on a rock, ate fried plantains and egg rolls and doughnuts from the stand, swam and got waterfall massages, and just relaxed. After weeks of running, it was exactly what I needed. And I was so grateful to Amalen for taking me to such an amazing place I literally never could’ve even accessed on my own.

Only downside? Leeches. It sounds freakier than it is, but essentially, they were tiny, slug-like things, smaller than the top part of my pinky, who would latch onto our feet or legs after we walked through certain areas. Amalen helped me, teaching me how to use a pocketknife to scrape them off after they latched. They left me with tiny little circular cuts, which actually bled for a while because apparently their saliva is anti-coagulant. But they didn’t hurt, and really, it’s not different than a mosquito or something, just a bit more graphic.

Anyway, that didn’t take away from anything. Afterwards, we met up with Amaeln’s friend Ryan at a food court, where I tried satay (chicken on skewers with peanut sauce to dip in), coconut rice with spicy sauce, anchovies and egg, and panak (a sort of sushi roll but in a wheat wrap, with crunchy vegetables and some sort of tempura inside). We also bought ourselves three more-than-half-liter bottles of Tiger Beer from Singapore. We had just finished them, and I was feeling a solid buzz, when Ryan’s dad showed up out of nowhere and ordered us three more bottles. So we were obligated to get way drunker than any of us anticipated, but hey, we swapped stories about our countries, joked around a bunch, and really has an awesome greasy, drinky night.

I pre-screened my doc to Amalen and Kelvin tonight too. It was really cool to see how Amalen got so excited about certain parts, and how much discussion it generated afterwards about COP and Amalen’s NGO, even between two people who are in it. I’m really pumped to see how more people like it, and really happy to see the impact it’s making for those in it.

Exploring KL tomorrow with Kelvin. Night night.

<3Scaht

7/18

Damn. So much socializing today. Like 11 hours of it. But it was great.

Started off by heading into KL with Kelvin, who grew up here. He took me to get a really good outdoor food stall court, which there are a bunch of here, in Chinatown. There was food everywhere, but I trusted him to know what was good, so I let him order this spicy red coconut curry for us, brimming with crispy fried pork skin, oysters, green vegetables and eggplant. It was so delish, until I bit into a pork skin saturated with curry and it burst straight into my throat like a juicy grape full of spicy fire. Totally burned the shit out of my throat, but luckily dessert was a cup of shaved ice (really finely ground ice covered in coconut milk and supplemented with various jellies and red bean), so I was soothed soon enough.

We then spent like 5 hours walking all over KL. He took me to the Independence Square where a lot of protests have happened, to the looming, corn-cob-looking Petronas Twin Towers, to some fancy-shmancy malls, to a fruit stand where we drank some coconut water straight outta the coconut, and to Little India. On the way, he told me SO much about Malaysia, from its history as a British colony to the politics and issues with election rigging to the school he went to and what it was like, and so much more. He was a really great tour guide, and since he’s around my age and we have similar interests, he was able to provide me much history into the politics and social issues I’m always interested in learning about.

One thing he told me that really stood out is that he loves just taking people around the city, and that if someone asked him for directions, he’d usually be happy to just walk them there. He said that was actually a pretty common thing to do here. Also, when I tried to pay him back for the food, he told me to not worry about the money. He said that really in Malaysia, they like to treat their guests, and they try not to let money be a big deal between friends, so it’s a big part of their culture to do that. These two things really struck me because they’re just so much friendlier and communal ways of supporting one another than in the U.S., where most people don’t wanna talk to you at all in the city, much less walk you somewhere, and where even $0.25 is often Venmo’ed between friends. I wanna bring back some of that hospitality to my own practices, because it definitely reflects the way I’d like people to interact.

Next, I met with Jolene, one of the Malaysians who was part of my film, for dinner in a hipster part of town called Bangsar. It 3 or 4 hilly streets were lined with international cuisines, fancy bakeries and cafes, boutique clothes, and bars trying very hard to look chill and/or refined. We actually got a really good dinner at a Nyonya restaurant, which combines Malay and Chinese styles; a whole fried fish and these smoky, fishy sautéed greens, plus fancy cocktails. We chatted about life and joked around, and I really enjoyed just getting to know her better. Of course, she treated me, which was super nice cause these were no street food prices.

Last, she texted her friend Sidney to meet up with us, an awesome guy who actually filmed some follow-up interviews for the film for me here in Malaysia since I wasn’t here. I hadn’t met him in person until then, but he was really great. Deep thinker, really open about things like mental health and insecurities, and really into films. We nerded out over cameras and film editing and our favorite movies, and he actually ended up coming with me to this huge food street called Jalan Alor, which was lined for about 2 city blocks with restaurants and stalls selling Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, Malaysia, coconut ice cream, dim sum, and a whole lotta stanky durian. If you don’t know, durian is a huge spiky fruit, like the size of a football or bigger, which smells kind of like fart or rotten eggs or a combo thereof. Kelvin, who loves it, actually told me he wouldn’t consider it a fruit, but just its own food group: Durian. He also told me that if you eat it within 8 hours or so of drinking alcohol, it’ll fuck up your stomach. So I haven’t tried it yet, but I want to for sure.

Anyway, it was really special to explore the city with all of these people and build up my relationships here. I’m so grateful for the guidance and the hospitality, and I REALLY hope they can all make it to the States one day so I can return the favor.

<3Scaht

7/19-7/20

It has come to an end. These were my final 2 days in not just Malaysia, but of my trip overall. And I think it couldn’t have been more fulfilling and shitshow-y.

Wednesday I wandered around the city on my own, hitting up the National Museum where I learned a whole lot about the history of the Malay Empires and how Malaysia was a key trading midpoint between China and the Middle East and the history of colonialism in Malaysia and all sorts of other cool stuff. As any U.S. citizen would know, we just don’t really learn that stuff in our schools, and it was super cool to gain all this knowledge about a totally different part of the world.

One thing it made me think about was the idea of cultural appropriation, because the museum talked a lot about how in the 14th and 15th centuries, as people from different regions met up and traded goods and skills and ideas, many cultures adopted parts of other cultures. This meant anything from parts of their dress to artistic motifs to cooking flavors. I thought this was really interesting, because it was made out to be a very mutually beneficial kind of cultural exchange, as opposed to in the U.S. today, where the conversation about cultural appropriation emphasizes the stealing of other’s cultures. I think maybe the difference is that often in places like the U.S., the cultural appropriation is done for profit, or without an actual interaction with the people whose culture it is, leading to disrespectful use of cultural elements and profiting off other’s culture without giving them any credit or economic compensation. In contrast, it seems like in these old Silk Road trade exchanges, people were actually sharing their cultures of their own accord, and interacting with those whose culture it was. Not that this means there wasn’t any ripping off of cultural elements or fetishzation of other’s cultures, but it makes me wonder if this sort of cultural mixing can happen in a positive and beneficial way that enriches humanity.

Wednesday night was the big night: the “world premiere” of my film on the Malaysian Youth Delegation (MYD) to the COP21 climate negotiations. I’ve mentioned it throughout the blog, but to give you more context, I got a grant from my university in November 2015 to go with my friend Miranda and make a film on youth climate activism at COP21, the international UN climate negotiations where the Paris Agreement was created. We ended up meeting the Malaysian Youth Delegation, a group of 5 young peeps who were there for the first time representing their country. We hung out and filmed them for 10 days, and then over the past year and a half have been editing it together. Why’d it take a year and a half, you ask? Broken harddrive, Miranda graduating, me finishing school, general procrastination; these all comprise some aspect of the answer. But in a silver lining to a terrible event, Trump pulling out of the Paris Agreement actually made the film relevant again, so I kicked myself into gear, committed to going to Malaysia, and have been working on the film at 6 or 7am almost every day of this trip to finish it before, well, two days ago.

The film came out to about 40 minutes, the longest film I’ve made by far (the next longest is only 12 minutes). Screening it was an awesome experience; 4 out of the 5 main MYD members were there, and about 8 of their younger members who they’re currently training to go to the next COP in Bonn, Germany were there as well. Screening a film to a group of people who are so intimately familiar with each other and the material is a cool experience; they were constantly giggling at seeing themselves or their friends onscreen, and they already understood the context of what was going on, making it easier for them to get into it. They also laughed at my jokes throughout the film, which I think is every filmmaker’s dream; it’s really hard to tell whether the things I think are funny are gonna land with an audience, but I think it went pretty nicely.

I did a Q&A after the screening where everyone asked a ton of questions, and it was really nice to be able to share my experiences and reflect on things with them. Overall, in the moment the whole screening just felt like a really casual thing; we were just in a classroom, watching it on a projector. Very intimate. But I gotta say I feel pretty amazing that I was able to make this happen. There was a long period of time where I thought this film was just gonna go incomplete, and it really made me feel guilty and weighed on me a lot. Now, that weight is finally gone, and I have a project that I actually followed-through on which I am really proud of. I’m hoping to submit it to some film fests too, so hopefully things will keep happening. But I’m really grateful that I was able to do this screening, and that I got so much time and energy and support from everyone in MYD, and everyone else who listened to me whine about this film over the past year and a half.

My final 12 or so hours in Malaysia were the shitshow part. Amalen, Kelvin and I had planned to drive to Kuantan, a small town on the east coast of the country where Amalen grew up. It was supposedly a 3-hour drive away, so we set off around 12am after a little post-screening dinner, hoping to arrive by 3am. The catch was that I had to take a bus back to KL the next day at like 1:30pm, so I really would only have like 10 hours in Kuantan. But I did it because Amalen promised me some beach time, and I didn’t really have much else to do.

Oh, and I should mention that we brought Amalen’s cat Jenny along too, because Amalen wanted to get her spayed at the vet in his hometown. Unfortunately for her and us, he didn’t have a carrier. Apparently, in the past, she usually just chills out under the passenger seat and is fine. But today for whatever reason, Jenny was not happy. She kept scrambling up to the rear window, then down under the seats, then up my legs into a box on the seat next to me, then under Kelvin’s feet as he drove. We all tried to make nice spaces for her and calm her down. but she took at least 30 minutes to finally just sit down and start distracting herself by licking herself clean. Poor kitty.

Anyway, I should’ve known things weren’t gonna go so well on this trip when about 30 minutes into the drive, we stopped for gas and Kelvin puked in the parking lot. He had some sort of stomach bug, and it all hit him right there. Of course, all the gas station convenience stores were closed, so he couldn’t even get some water to wash his mouth out.

Somehow, he kept driving, and we drove up to the Genting Highlands, a detour Amalen and Kelvin had planned without me really knowing what was happening. It’s these really high hills where Malaysia’s only legal casino is built. We drove up and around all these hairpin turns, the yellow lights of this massive casino glowing all across the peak of this looming hill. Eventually, we stopped at a lookout point where you could see the KL skyline and chilled for like an hour, drinking beers and chatting. That was all good, except for when Kelvin started puking again. Turns out beer doesn’t mix so well with stomach bugs. Who knew?

Amalen took over the wheel, and we kept going. At this point it was already like 3am and we’d only made it like 45 minutes towards Kuantan cause of all the detours. I did my best to stay up and keep Amalen company as he drove, but I could feel the exhaustion and the beer dragging my eyelids down like stones. I drifted in and out of conversation, nodding a lot with my eyes half open before finally passing out. Amalen ended up pulling over in a parking lot around 4:30, planning to snooze for like 15 minutes. We woke up at 6:45am.

In the end, the snooze was for the best to keep up safe, even though we didn’t actually arrive til like 8am. An 8 hour trip total. And I had to head back at 1:30pm. So much for a 3 hour drive.

At this point, I was also just exhausted and hungover and my stomach felt like butt. Some combination of the fried food I had eaten for dinner and the beer and the lack of sleep made my body real pissed off, and pretty soon my tummy opened up the floodgates. I felt weak, and had a headache, and even the smell of food made me feel nauseous. But I pushed through, determined to get to the beach and just pass out on the sand. Which I did.

We chilled at the beach for like an hour and a half, and I even worked up the energy to sit in the waves a bit and look at all the tiny little crabs that would scatter into holes in the sand as I approached. So at least I can say I’ve been in the South China Sea, even if only as an attempted hangover cure.

Amalen drove me to the bus station at 1pm, and I’ve been in transit between bus and train and plane since then. Amalen was a super awesome host, giving me a place to stay and taking me to get all the staple Malaysian food and showing me some really beautiful parts of his world in Malaysia. I also really enjoyed the long car trips where we just got to talk and get to know each other’s stories and life philosophies better. He’s a really thoughtful, knowledgeable, goofy dude, and he cares a lot about his friends, which I really respect. It really blows my mind that, because of a random thought me and Miranda had to apply for a grant to go to Paris, I now have lifelong friends on the other side of the globe. Life is pretty dope like that.

So yah, that’s all. Hope you enjoyed perusing my travels, and if you have any questions or things to say to me or want some travel suggestions, hit me up through one of the ridiculous amount of communication channels I now have (WeChat, Facebook, Text, WhatsApp, GroupMe, Email, Signal, whatever).

Annyeong kyeseyo (Korean)

Joigin (Cantonese)

Zài jiàn (Mandarin)

Pope gone mai (Lao)

Selamat tinggal (Malaysian)

Byeeee (Scott)