#that’s gonna need some time to stew in the pot before i decide for real

[hoozukis]

ocean’s 8 was a cool movie and all, but the more i think about various parts of it, the more i realise it’s actually not well-written at all.

veronica was definitely a deus ex machina, and she & 小顏 played too integral roles in the plan to not be included in the team number, meanwhile daphne who just wanted to make friends was included lmao??? besides, isn’t inviting 小顏 to the party counterproductive to debbie wanting an all-women team? did it mean nothing when he did all that stunt work for them?

lou greeting yen with “你好嗎？” was in such poor taste, i actually still can’t believe that actually made it to the final cut. it was better in the earlier trilogy when 小顏 would speak mandarin and everyone else would speak english and they all understood each other without question and there was mutual respect all around. with lou, it comes across as a ytwoman who only knows that one mandarin phrase because it sounds like “knee how” and that’s funny to her and she doesn’t bother trying to understand anything else of the language & culture. that totally came out of nowhere and i had a hard time believing a well-accomplished high-class professional criminal could be so crass. i only found out that the guy she greeted was supposed to be the same 小顏 from previous movies way later from an article...

if the screenwriter actually wanted lou to greet 小顏 in mandarin in a significant way that not only pays tribute to the og trilogy but also doesn’t perpetuate a lame ytppl joke about chinese culture, lou could’ve said something like “早安，老師傅！” and it would’ve been 100× better. like, out of social courtesy while also implying she has respect for his skills and achievements, not because 小顏 is older (i’m pretty sure lou was meant to be way older than him, right?)

[writingsfromhome]

Sorry x Rare

A/N: I got two lyric requests for Sorry by Beyonce and Rare by Selena Gomez. They were both sort of two sides of the same coin so I wrote them together it mostly goes from rare to sorry. Thanks for the requests, fingers crossed it lives up to what you wanted! <3

Synopsis: You and Harry have been together for a long time but he’s not the same man you fell in love with anymore.

-----

I move my dinner around on my plate, my gaze on the man pacing outside the restaurant on his phone. My man. But it didn't really feel like that these days. These days, Harry was a stranger to me--late nights, phone calls interrupting dinner, waking up to find him gone and not even sure if he'd come home at all.

I watch him remove the phone from his ear in a rush, stare at it, and then shove it aggressively in his pocket. He walks back in, cheeks pink and huffing.

"Should we ask for the bill?" He sits down in a flurry. I stare at his barely-eaten meal and my own dinner mashed to bits.

"We've barely had dinner."

"Babe, we've been here for over an hour since..." he takes his phone back out to inform me of how much time exactly but something must catch his attention because his sentence dies on his lips. I stare, he was so distant lately. "I'll drop you off at home, I've got to meet the boys they decided to talk business-"

"It's 8pm on a Thursday," I state the obvious. "Can't you catch up with them la-"

"This isn't an argument Y/N," Harry finally looks at me. He was done discussing it. He lifts his hands to the waiter and a minute later dinner's been paid for. He wasn't my baby, I think as we stroll outside to his car. I don't know who this man was.

***

I wake up the next morning with the weight of Harry on the other side of the bed. I could smell him, the booze sitting in his pores.

“Ugh,” I groan, not wanting to smell that first thing in the morning. I get up and start my day before I head to work. Soon, Harry appears squinting as I stir sugar into my coffee.

“I need a coffee,” he says, his voice hoarse. It used to sound sexy but now it was just another reminder that things changed. We lived like roommates and it hurt that he never wanted to talk. Half the time, he acted like I wasn’t even there.

I watch him settle with his coffee, taking the first sip and letting out a deep breath. A memory comes to me suddenly, the first year we were dating,

“I think this is the best coffee I’ve ever had,” it was the first night Harry had stayed the whole night and I’d made him coffee in my outdated coffee maker. It came out burnt half the time but that morning’s cup was decent. We’re swaddled in my blankets--the room I rented back then had poor circulation in the winter.

“I think you’re still slightly drunk,” I lean my shoulder against his and cup the warm drink. “I’ve definitely had better coffees.”

“Maybe coffees are just better the morning after,” he says, glancing at me and I know he can see the flush on my cheeks. He knew I was shy talking about certain things in the light of day.

“We can say that,” I mumble into the cup. “It’s just nice to have a heat source.”

“Here,” he takes the cup from me and reaches over to put both on the nightstand.

“Hey I wasn’t done with that.”

“I know but if you’re cold, I know this other heat source--it even works for hypothermia.”

His statement causes a blood rush that warms me already but I don’t say no to what he has in mind. I could make us another cup later.

Harry catches me staring when he looks over and raises an eyebrow. I snap out of my thoughts and twist my lips into a smile, looking back at my own drink bitterly. Who was this man in front of me? Out loud, I ask: “How was your night? You came in late.”

“I was out with the boys.” he says in a tone that meant he didn’t want to talk about it. “It got late.”

“A text would’ve been nice,” I say, still looking at my cup.

“S’not like you were waiting up,” he turns to walk back towards the bedroom.

“Learned not to,” I mumble but I know he’s heard me with the way he pauses. But he didn’t care enough to argue, dispute it, nothing. He leaves.

***

"Guess who just made a commission that's more than I used to earn in a year?" April walks into the small office, an infectious grin on her face.

"You sold him on it?" I put away the file I'm working on and jump up to hug my friend.

"I had to flirt a little--give him a vivid picture of what he could have there, and he signed! I'm bloody brilliant."

April was my American ex-pat who I met when she was looking for a flat a few years ago. And now here she was, working for me at the small real estate office I managed with a few other people I considered friends.

"Do you know if he was single?" I tune back in to hear Janelle asking.

"No, don't give her bad advice!" I scold Janelle. “We don’t date clients.”

"I'm miserably single," April pouts. "I'll take advice even if it’s bad."

"Bad advice is to stay with your college sweetheart to the point where you're not sure he even cares about you." I say to no one in particular. It was just us in the office today, and they knew everything about my life so I didn't care much. But the pin-drop silence that follows is different. I look up to see my friends eyeing each other. "What?"

"Nothing." They stay tight lipped but I push and they crack. "Well, so...we know things are rocky between you and Harry..."

"Things aren't rocky," I clarify. "They're just...nonexistent."

"Right," April slides closer. "Soo, we saw him at the club yesterday."

I raise my eyebrow, "He told me he was meeting up with his boys."

"Oh!" They sound surprised I know, but they look at each other again so I push them. "He was...there was a girl? Sitting on his lap for most of the night? Like, nothing happened I don't think so?" She turns to look at April at the end of each sentence.

Personally, I feel gut-punched even though I suspected this. I knew he wasn't where he said he was going to be sometimes, or with who he said he was going to be with. But he cut our own dinner short last night to be with strangers yesterday? I grip the pen in my hand.

"Y/N honestly...you know we love you and support you. But, you're a special girl and you deserve better than that sod."

"Yeah," Janelle puts her hand on my shoulder. "You're a gem Y/N. There's someone else out there who's gonna see how rare you are."

"I know," I blow my cheeks out. We'd had different conversations like this before, although never this direct. I guess we'd never had direct proof of what my husband was doing until now though.

"He's an idiot not knowing you're so rare," my friends try to comfort me. I feel my eyes well up and I swipe at them. I wasn't going to cry at work but they must sense the tears because they excuse themselves, "We're going to get you a tea, and some pastries to celebrate April's sale. April?"

I keep my face buried in my hands as they leave, take a few deep breaths. "I am rare," I say to myself but even that makes me laugh bitterly. Harry and I had been together for 5 years and here I was trying to count up all the reasons we should stay together when he didn't even care. He was out with other women, and I was waiting around for him.

"I'm rare," I say again. "I'm special, I deserve better. I...deserve better."

When will u be home tonight? I text Harry before I lose my nerve.

Busy he says. That’s it. And then, Why?

What time? I ask again.

8 or so, he responds.

Okay, we need to talk then. I put my phone away, too scared what he might text back. A tear falls from my cheek onto my keyboard, landing on the letter H. It mocks me. I wipe it off, and before I can think about what I'm doing I smash the letter down with my fist. I stand up and walk to the back of the office, a window overlooks the busy street. I'd had enough, I decide. Fuck Harry.

I’m not sure how long I stand there stewing, but my friends walking in with pastries and tea ends the emotional boiling pot from overflowing.

"Thanks," I take the cup from them.

“So we were talking and...” April looks at Janelle and she nods. “You should come out with us some time. Like...tonight. Dance with us, with other people...”

“I...I’ve got something at 8,” I come up with an excuse. As angry as I was, I wanted to have this conversation. It was long overdue.

***

I check my time again, the last text Harry sent me Ok. But it was 8:25 and Harry still wasn’t home. I’d give him five more minutes, I decide. I’d already tried to ring him with no answer.

I stare at the ring on my finger, it was supposed to symbolize a promise he made to me. What a fucking joke. I should’ve never said I do in the first place.

Was it young love, I wonder. Did we do this too fast and we were just set up to fail? But I remember the good memories, the soft and sweet times between us.

“I-I’ve never done something like this before,” I tell Harry. “I hate heights.”

“Listen,” he crowds around me, blocking my view of his friends who are walking up the narrow trail like it was any old walkway. “You go in front of me, I’ll have my hand on your back the whole time. I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

I look up into those gentle eyes and swallow my fear. “Okay.”

“I promise it will be so worth it,” he gushes, his excitement uncaged now that I’d agreed. “There’s no lights there so the stars are so bloody bright--I know you’re going to love it!”

I can’t help it, my lips crack into a smile at his boyish excitement. He catches it and pauses, a breath in this whirlwind of a night. What started out as a house party turned into a walk to a local beach which turned into a hike into the woods and up a precarious--and very steep--ridge to get to an isolated lookout. Only with Harry did I find myself in these situations. And I loved it. I loved him, I realise then. My expression must change because he tugs on my hand, probably worried I’d change my answer.

“Walk ahead,” he instructs and I nearly tip toe on the ridge that’s at least 30 feet across. But his steady hand on my back pushes me gently and I walk across confidently until I look down 2/3 of the way. I freeze in place but Harry’s ready. “Y/N, you’re safe here. Look at me-look...”

I crane my neck and he grounds me, oh my god how did I just realise now how in love I was with him? He squeezes my hand, asks if I was okay. I had to be, I couldn’t stay stuck in the middle.

Inch by inch we finally make it to the other side and I jump off with a yelp which sets Harry off in a burst of laughter. Pretty soon he’s lifted me over his shoulder and carries me to the lookout on the edge. My feet had been through enough, he’d said.

And he was right--it was so worth it; the view with all the stars laid out. The buildings and their light pollution below were blocked out by the outcrops and it made the stars twinkle in all their glory. It made it the perfect place to be with the person I loved.

“Isn’t it the most incredible view?” Harry whispers in awe behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“I.....I have no words apparently,” I laugh and turn in his arms. “Thanks for pushing me, this...it was worth it.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ears and gazes at me in a way that makes me want to squirm. But I hold his gaze.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks with a smile.

“Compared to the view,” I glance behind us. “I guess I’m alright.”

“No,” he guides my face back towards his. “This view over that one, any day. M’just that lucky.”

My words die on my lips as I’m overwhelmed by this feeling between us, the one I thought would keep us together like this forever.

He raises an eyebrow when I go silent and I shrug, “I’m all out of words today.”

I close my eyes as he kisses my temple. I turn back around and we spend the moment in silence, drinking in the view. His friends chatter around us but they’re background noise. My life felt like a movie right now.

Before we leave as a group, I tug Harry back. This was a good as place as any to tell him. I press my lips to his, and it takes him a second but he’s kissing me back. Before it can get carried away I push away and tell him what I’d been thinking all night, “I love you.”

He takes a step back, and then he’s grinning and pulling me back. “I love you! I love you listen, I’ve been wanting to say that for weeks!”

“Weeks?!”

“Yeah weeks! My sister said it was too soon, I might scare you off!”

I think about a few weeks ago, I was intensely shy around him even then. Maybe she was right, but the idea that he talked about me to his sister makes me flush. I wrap my arms around his waist “I just...this moment is so perfect. I never want it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to.” he’d promised. “I’m yours forever Y/N.”

When 8:30 comes and goes I call April, she lets me know where they were. “We’re so happy you’re coming! Are you sure you don’t want us to meet you somewhere else?” she shouts into the phone. When I tell her I just wanted to be where they were she reminds me to text them when I was nearby.

I have to dig into the back of my closet, past the pantsuits I wore to work, the casual dresses and loungewear. I still had some of my old party clothes, just a bit tighter than they used to be. But for where I was going, it would fit in.

Before I leave, I take a pen and scrawl a note: “Great talk"

My friends spot me as I walk in. The music is instantly too loud, the lights too bright, and there are too many people. But one of my them shoves a drink in my hand and pretty soon it’s the best place on earth. It was exactly where I needed to be. I turn off my cellphone and enjoy myself.

After a certain point, I don’t even know who I’m talking to, but pressed up against a body, feeling wanted, it drives me to keep dancing all night. Eventually, I crash at April’s and don’t roll out of hers until 11 the next morning. Harry’s barely an afterthought until I’m tucked in the taxicab taking me home and turn on my phone. 8 missed calls, 2 voicemails and 13 texts.

I’m shocked at the volume, Harry hadn’t blown up my phone like this in over a year. I listen to one voicemail: “Where the hell are you? I come home an hour late and you’re bloody gone with this stupid note here. Pick up! I’ve called you a billion times.”

I stare at my phone, I hadn’t heard Harry this passionate since...well it was a long time. And all it took was going out late and not answering his calls, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It almost makes me angrier; I had to partake in this juvenile dance to get his attention, even though we’d been married nearly 2 years.

He’s on a call when I get home, talking numbers or something. I head directly to the shower, clean up, and take my sweet time. It must’ve driven him mad waiting for me because by the time I’m out he blows a gasket.

“What’s this stunt you pulled last night? Wanting to talk and leaving me a stupid sarcastic note just because I’m late? Where were you?”

“Out,” I shrug. “I didn’t know you were late. You didn’t text.”

“I didn’t tex--oh I see, now we’re being petty yeah?”

That irked me, “I’m not being petty. It’s not like I get the same courtesy when you’re out late!”

“I’m busy, I can’t always be texting you!”

Excuses, I laugh and he looks at me like I’m crazy. “Busy what? Screwing other women-”

“Don’t be making shit up-”

“I’ve had people tell me that they see you with other women Harry! S’not a far stretch!”

That quiets him. Finally, he comes forward to stand inches away. “Y/N, c’mon. You and me...this is stupid. Sure I go out to party but I’m not-”

“Stop.” he was actually trying to talk his way out of this. And because I’d rather step in front of an oncoming train than cry in front of him, I head to the front door and walk out. I’d find someplace to crash today, but I wasn’t doing this.

***

“How’re you doing?” Janelle asks. I’d shown up at her doorstep and she set up her guest bed. She had plans so I spent most of my time burying myself in work, trying to get rid of all that angry energy pent up in me. Janelle had just come home.

“I’m just trying to move on. I don’t want to talk about him, I just don’t care at this point--I’m fed up!”

“As you should be,” she agrees. “Listen, I know we had a crazy night yesterday but I’m going out with some friends today and...maybe it’ll help you?”

I think about the killer headache this morning, but I also remember how good it felt to forget for a bit. I agree. Before I know it, Janelle’s found something that fits me and we’re back at a different club than the night before. Her friends are familiar faces but after a few drinks we’re all best friends. It feels great. Until I spot Harry’s face.

“That’s enough,” his face looms over mine as he pushes away the man I’m up against.

“What the fuck Harry...” I trail off as he pulls me away from the middle of the crowd. I try to pry his hand off but there’s too many people and he’s moving too quickly...and I’ve had a lot of drinks. “Let me go!” I say when we finally step away. We’re in what must be a private room. He seemed familiar with it--of course.

“So just because you heard I’m out and about some nights, you decide to come here and fuck around with random men?”

“Excuse me?” I stare at him, he was out of his mind. “I’m out having fun with my friends! I’m not here because of you.”

“Really? You come to the same place I come to all the time and dance with these strangers? And you’re drunk as fuck!”

“Since when did you care?” I ask. “Just leave me alone. You’ve been doing that perfectly fine the last few months.”

“I’m your bloody husband Y/N, you can’t just-”

“Then act like one!” I shout, and in the muffled quiet of the room with the bass thumping through it rings out. “I don’t need you! And you made it clear you don’t need me. These rings are a fucking joke, here-” I take mine off and throw it at him.

“You don’t mean it-”

“I do.” I give him a level stare, suddenly clear-headed. Maybe I’d process it later, but right now I was finally seeing what he’d become. He deserved to feel how I felt, and quite frankly, I didn’t give a fuck. I flip him with both hands, “Quite frankly Harry, you can suck my d-”

“Harry!” A shrill voice rings out from the entrance that now carries the loud beats of the dance floor, swallowing my words. “Liam told me you were here!”

I glance at the brunette in the doorway and back at him. I couldn’t even muster an eye roll; I had enough.

“Y/N!” Harry calls my name as I walk out.

“No it’s me, Becky?!” she tries to correct him. I can’t help but laugh as I make my way back to my friends with a drink in my hand, feeling free.

***

“Y/N, it’s Harry. I don’t know how it got this shite just please call me back. Just give me five minutes that’s all I n--message deleted”

“He’s moved on to the office phone then?” Janelle asks, her desk was beside mine so she’d heard him as I checked my messages. It was two weeks since that glorious night when I’d dumped Harry’s ass. Although a lot of my things were still at our house, I was just staying in a hotel right now while I figured things out. One thing I knew for sure though, I didn’t want to see him again.

“It’s pretty pathetic,” I say. It was also pathetic how long I’d stayed waiting around for us to be magically fixed. But that was something I was working on getting past.

“You’re glowing without him,” April says from where she’s getting her files together. “Haven’t you got that showing out east?”

“Yeah, oh god is that the time?” I rush to get my files in order. “I’ll catch up with you later-”

“We’re still getting drinks after?”

“Yes, drinks!” I call out as I leave the office and head down to the lobby. I don’t expect Harry there, and I barely have time for him as he comes up to keep my pace.

“Harry, I’ve got somewhere to be please leave me alone.”

“Y/N, wait just please listen to me.”

“No.”

“2 minutes!”

“Not even 1,” I spot my cab out front and head towards it. I’m about to get in but Harry holds the door. “Harry let go I’m going to be late.”

“Just let me talk to you, please!”

I finally look at him and he’s quite a sight. His hair is matted and without it’s usual bounce. He’s got a rough look and a 5 ‘o clock shadow.

“You had plenty of time to talk to me for months, you were too busy at the club. Sorry not sorry,” I tug at the door and he lets go, I don’t spare a backwards glance as we drive away.

One of the showings is successful, I manage to sell the family on the home and we set up a meeting to go over details at my office later in the week. I’ve got a bounce in my step as I return to the office. I tell the girls I’d meet them at the bar as I finalize my papers at the office. My bounce falters when I go head out after 5 to see Harry waiting outside the building.

“Y/N,” he calls out when he sees me. “I’m not going to leave until you talk to me.”

“That’s called stalking,” I say. A few people walking past us turn to glance at him and he notices. He moves to the inside lobby and asks me to follow. With a big sigh I do.

“I know what I did.” he begins.

“Congratulations,” I roll my eyes.

“No wait, I know what I did to you. And sorry can’t cover it. Just let me make it up to you, we have history and-”

“You don’t get it.” I stop his monologue from going any further. “I’m gonna be just fine. Without you. You didn’t care about our history until you couldn’t have me. I don’t know what happened to you Harry, but you’re not the man I fell in love with-”

“I know,” he says, tears of frustration coating his lashes. “I fucked up, I-I didn’t see what I had right in front of me and I just-”

“Let her slip away? Is that the best you can come up with?” I scoff. “You know what Harry? I’m done with this! Boy...bye.”

“Y/N just--” he grabs my arm before I can leave and pushes something cold into my palm. My wedding ring.

“I don’t want this,” I push it back in his hand.

“Please just take it--hold onto it,” he pushes it back into mine and closes my fingers over it. “I can’t...I can’t hold onto it just take it! You don’t even have to think about it-”

“Harry,” I soften my tone. He was desperate and even though some part of me thought it was about time he felt this type of way, my heart hurt a little. I didn’t want him to see that though so I just tuck the ring into the pocket of his button up and pat it. “Goodbye Harry.”

I walk away with my head held high even though he calls out to me. I walk the few blocks to where my friends are waiting and their warm smiles are enough to help me push the memory of Harry’s teary eyes, and the real history we did have once upon a time away. I was done with him, no longer thinking about him.

I just kept telling myself, I was rare like a gem and I had to see that. And maybe one day, someone else will too.

[streetlight11]

Deep Scar

Summary: He used to be the popular kid in high school where everyone has a crush on him. He always gets Valentine's Day gifts be it presents, chocolates, homemade brownies, etc. He somehow brought his name to college where there were people who still finds him attractive. What happens when he bumps into a girl who treated him a lot different compared to others? Will he find out the truth behind her behaviour?

Theme: college au, childhood schoolmates but with a bad past

Genre: a little angsty, fluff ending though

Warnings: mild swearing (literally just one word), slight mention of harassment but nothing too crazy

WC: 4.6k

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hey hey :) I've had this in my google drive for quite sometime so my writing might not be so good here but bear with me. P.S the words in italics are his flashback, and hannie might sound like a jerk at one point but this doesn't portray him in real life because irl he's an absolute sweetheart :') Anyways, enjoy reading!

Coming to campus every morning only to find gifts and plenty of love letters in his locker has been becoming a daily routine for Jisung. Although he has never actually reciprocated any of them, he must admit that he did love the amount of attention that’s been drawn to him since back in high school.

He was the popular kid in school where he was known for his intelligence, charming personality and of course, his good looks.

Back in high school, girls would often slot in their confession letters in his locker almost everyday. Every Valentine’s Day, his table would be filled with chocolates and homemade brownies specially for him.

But all of those gifts would eventually be passed to his close friends for them to finish it for him.

Even now when he’s already in college, words spread around the campus of his status back in Saebom High, making everyone in Hankuk College know about him. Despite this new set of attention that was being directed towards him, he managed to make friends with a few people that he trusts.

Some of them were his classmates in college, some were his friends from music class, and some were his good friends back in high school. 

That day was no different as he walked down the hall to go to his designated locker, only to find a pink paper that had been folded into a cute little heart.

“Another love letter? Dude, at this point you should really date one of them so that this whole shenanigan would stop.” Chan said with a soft chuckled as Minho and Jeongin nodded in agreement with the elder boy. Jisung rolled his eyes as he unfolded the paper and read the confession, that was pretty much the same as the other notes he received.

All of which, never got reciprocated simply because Jisung believes he hasn’t found anyone that peaked his interest yet.

After about 5 minutes, he slammed his locker shut as the four boys began to walk down the hall, not missing the constant shy giggles and whispers from every direction. Jisung simply walked with his charming smile plastered on his face, making some girls feel their heart flutter in their chest.

Just when they had made a left turn, a figure smaller than them came crashing straight into Jisung’s shoulder, causing both individuals to stumble back a step from the impact.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass.” The girl who was rubbing her shoulder said as she locked eyes with him firmly. Jisung was slightly baffled as no other girl would even dare to look at him straight in the eye.

“Excuse me?” He said, his voice clearly confused but the girl simply rolled her eyes at him, slightly annoyed.

“You heard me. I don’t have to say it twice.” 

“Do you even know who I am?” He asked, slowly starting to feel anger boiling through his veins.

“Do you think I care?” She taunts.

“Other girls would be scrambling away by now.”

“Oh, how exciting. Next time, wear side goggles so you can watch where you’re going.” Was all she said before she shoves past him to continue her journey down the hall to go to her class.

Everyone in that hallway was surprised with their little interaction. Some of them even snickered at her for behaving that way in front of him. As far as he knows, all the girls in school never dared to speak to him in person, nor would they even look at him straight in the eyes for they would either run away in embarrassment, or their face would turn flushed red.

Jisung tried not to think much of it as he continued his walk to his class.

During lunch, the boys had gathered at their usual table. However, Hyunjin and Seungmin were running slightly late this time. They were just a few bites into their meal when Hyunjin’s voice caught everyone at their table’s attention.

“Hey guys! Is it okay if our new friend joins us? She just transferred here so me and Seungmin offered her to have lunch with us.”

At the mention of a female, Jisung whips his head around, only to lock eyes with the same girl he bumped into just a few hours prior.

“You again? Try not to miss your mouth this time when you eat.” She said as her gaze locked on Jisung, leaving him speechless.

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchanged glances at each other in confusion but decided to just carry on with lunch as they ended up sitting with her. If she weren’t too direct, Jisung could almost agree that she was acting quite the opposite towards Hyunjin and Seungmin. Maybe with the others as well. She seemed genuinely friendly and almost effortlessly bright with them. 

If he was being honest, it almost upsets him that she treated him like an outcast as compared to the rest of his close friends. Days slowly but surely became weeks as she started to grow visibly close to Hyunjin and Seungmin probably because they were her classmates.

It was a Friday evening and they all decided to go to a pool bar where they had pool tables for people to play and also have light drinks if they wanted to.

They rented out two tables for themselves as they divided into two teams.

“Y/N! Join our team!” Hyunjin called as Y/N giggled, only for her to catch Jisung staring at her from one of the high stools beside the bar.

“I’ll join if he does.” 

She said as she nodded her head towards Jisung, only for the others to immediately drag him to Hyunjin’s pool table. The game soon started as Hyunjin served first. She seems to surprise them everytime she serves because all her shots were smooth and almost effortless. It was as if she’s done this multiple times.

“Wow, how are you so good at this?” Seungmin asked as she smiled at him, only to answer his question.

“I guess I’m pretty good at aiming.”

The boy giggled as they watched Hyunjin score a ball. All the while, Jisung was silently watching her by the side. 

Not in a creepy way but more like in a confused way. After they finished their one hour at the pool bar, they left to get dinner but she decided to call it a day for her and that she needed to go home to feed her starving kitty.

The boys bid her goodbye as she left, only for Changbin to question his friend.

“Jisung ah, you cannot tell me you’re not the slightest bit intrigued by her…”

With that, Jisung frowned as his mind came swirling back to all the times they’ve hung out with her and gotten to know her better. From all the mean comments tossed at each other like they were flat bread, to the time where she seemed genuinely concerned when Jisung nearly got run over by a speeding truck.

“No… No I’m not.”

Only he knows that it was a total lie but he wasn’t going to admit it to his friends. 

His ego was too high for him to easily admit that after all these years of girls trying so hard to win his attention, all he needed was Y/N to come into the picture and that was all it took for him to finally fall for someone.

Nobody needed to know his true feelings for her. He didn’t think it would be much of a big deal so he opted to keep his feelings to himself. It was another week into April, when Chan decided to invite them over to his apartment to hang out and chill on a chilly Saturday. Chan of course included Y/N in the list, hence the reason why she was currently standing outside his apartment door.

She was wearing a brown fitted crop top, her favourite denim ripped skinny jeans, a bomber jacket and her white converse.

She was greeted by Chan as he opened the door wider for her to enter.

She made it inside only to find Felix and Minho challenging each other in a game of Mario Kart Race. Hyunjin, Seungmin and Changbin were busy playing Call Of Duty on their phones. Jisung, Jeongin and Chan were in the kitchen, cooking up some hot kimchi stew.

Y/N took off her jacket as she went to snuggle in between Changbin and Hyunjin, watching them play an intense game of COD.

She was just laying her head on Changbin’s shoulder when he jerked forward, making her body shake as he turned to Hyunjin and high fived him after winning first place. Just then, he noticed the sad pout on her face at the loss of warmth, making him giggle as he sat back down to let her rest her head on his shoulder again before he whispered.

“Sorry baby.” She giggled as she pinched his abs, making him squeak. He laughed as he corrected himself.

“I’m just kidding.”

She smiled as she nuzzled into his shoulder while they were all occupied with doing their own things. A few minutes later, the 3 boys from the kitchen came back to the living room with the pot of kimchi stew and a rice bowl. 

However, Y/N didn’t miss the subtle frown on Jisung’s face when he saw her leaning her head against Changbin’s shoulder.

The 9 of them began eating diligently as they fit in almost any possible topic they could think off. After they finished their meal, she offered to wash the dishes since they were all busy. Chan told her not to trouble herself but she insisted on helping him.

She was scrubbing the second last bowl when she heard Jeongin’s voice calling from the living room.

“Noona! Come join us after you’re done washing the dishes okay? We’re gonna play truth or drink!”

“Okay Jeonginie.” She sang in a sing-song tune as she could hear some of them chuckle in the back.

As promised, she joined them after she was done with the last bowl, only to sit in between Minho and Seungmin. They went in a circle starting from Chan. It was in a circle until it reached her, only for Changbin to eagerly raise his hand.

“Oh! Oh! I have a good one!” Changbin said as his inner corner of the lips curved up into a cute smile, making her giggle.

“If you could go back to your past, what is the one thing that you would choose not to do?” His question was good. It was theoretical but good.

Suddenly, her eyes just instantly found Jisung’s soft brown ones as she told them her answer.

“The one thing I would choose not to do? Probably allowing myself to think that whatever people said to me was true.”

The guys started to frown as they asked if something bad happened to her back then but she simply shrugged them off and told them to continue the game. It went on until it was Jisung’s turn, only for Y/N to speak up.

“I have something I wanna ask him.”

This came as a surprise for the others but they let her do the honours anyway.

“Do you remember the girl who confessed to you back in high school?” She said. His eyebrows began to link together as he frowned at her sudden question.

“Huh?”

“The one where you rejected her confession by humiliating her in front of the whole school?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Think harder.” She said.

Suddenly, memories start to flood in his mind like a flash flood.

“H-Hi. I made these for you. I hope you like cupcakes. I k-know a lot of other girls do this for you too, b-but… I-I just thought maybe I should give you something too. I- umm, I like y-you Han Jisung.” The girl confessed as she held out the box filled with her homemade cupcakes that she took time to bake for him the night before.

She bit the inside of her cheeks nervously as she diligently avoided his gaze. Just when she saw his arms reaching out to her thinking he was going to take the box from her, he forcefully smashed the box down making it slip out of her hands.

The students around them began to laugh as Jisung lifted a brow at her.

“Did you really think I’d accept your confession? Look at you. Who would date a girl who ties their hair in pigtails, have her tummy sticking out of her uniform shirt and constantly push the bridge of your spectacles up every 5 minutes? Have you seen yourself in a mirror? Nobody will ever fall for you.”

With that being said, he kicked the metal box away to reveal the fallen cupcakes as he went ahead and stepped on them like it was an insect.

The whole school laughed at her as she ran to the girls bathroom and locked herself in there as she cried her heart out. She was only 13 so it was slightly depressing for her to go through this terrible rejection.

Not only did he reject her in cold blood, he also humiliated her in front of everybody in the process. However, what made her even more upset is the fact that he didn’t seem to feel the slightest bit of remorse for saying those things to her.

That memory was as clear as day as he winced at the thought of how immature he was back then. Nevertheless, he didn’t forget the question he got from Y/N as he went ahead to answer her.

“Yeah… Yeah I remember…”

“Do you remember what you said to her?” Her voice softened as she kept her eyes on him while the rest of them had their eyes trained back and forth between Jisung and her.

“I said… I said she should look at herself in the mirror and that no one will ever fall for her.” 

The boys were shocked by how harsh he was to that said girl. Y/N could only smile sadly to him as she slowly continued. 

“Do you feel bad saying those things to her now?” 

Without much thought, he replied something that broke her heart.

“Why should I?” With that, she tried to hold back her tears as she looked at him dead in the eye before saying these next few words.

“Looks like you’re still that same cocky bastard huh?”

She soon got up from her seat on the floor, only to grab her things to leave when Jisung stood up to grab her wrist, stopping her from taking any more steps further.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, now genuinely confused as to what was going on.

“You’re really dense for someone as arrogant as you.” A scoff left her lips as her eyes bore into his, hoping he understood what she meant. After what felt like forever, Jisung finally realized as it was as though his life just flashed before his eyes.

“Wait… that was you?!” His voice was loud as it was laced with confusion and slight disappointment.

“And what happens if I say yes? Are you gonna ask me if I’ve looked into the mirror and realize that no one will ever fall for me?”

Her words stinged like venoms as he winced yet again but this time, at how hurt she seemed. She didn’t realise this but her tears were no longer held back as a few droplets rolled down her cheeks.

“Your words hurted me back then. So I tried to ignore it and move on. But when you said your answer just now, I realized that maybe you really are just an arrogant jerk.”

She finally pulled her arm out of his grasp as she left without sparing a glance to the others. Jisung has never felt so utterly remorseful, today was the first time. He mentally scolded himself for saying those words back when he was young and immature.

He has never felt so fucked up before, this was definitely the first.

A few days went by, Y/N hasn’t talked to either of the boys, not even Hyunjin and Seungmin. Every time Jisung tried to reach out to her, she would always successfully avoid him. It has been almost 2 weeks since they last talked to her as the boys agreed to go release their stress by going to the downtown club.

They had booked a booth for all 8 of them as they sat in there with some girls coming back and forth to try and get laid with either one of them.

Just then, Jisung’s eyes seemed to scan the room only to see a familiar figure dancing freely on the dance floor. He frowned as he rubbed his eyes to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on him.

He double confirmed that it was in fact Y/N, as he got up and left the booth ignoring the boy’s calls.

Right when he was about to reach the dance floor, he saw her deliberately get dragged through the sweaty, intoxicated humans and towards the back door. He followed them close behind as he saw her struggling to free herself from the man’s hold.

The minute she was out the back, the man pushed her against the brick wall as he attacked her neck forcefully.

“Stop!” She begged.

The man ignored as he started to caress her waist and moved up.

“Stop it!” She tried again as tears started to roll down her cheeks desperately.

The minute she managed to put a distance between herself and the man, the metal back door swung open harshly only for her to lock eyes with Jisung as he rushed down the steps, only to land a solid punch to the man’s jaw.

The man fell to the ground drunkenly as he struggled to stand back up.

“What the fuck man? Get your own girl!” The man said as he grabbed Y/N’s wrist and was about to pull her when Jisung roughly shoved him off again.

The man threw a few drunk punches to Jisung and soon they were both in a fist fight. The two males were starting to have blood clots and bruises all over their bodies and faces when Hyunjin and Changbin came to stop the fight.

“Jisung! Jisung! That’s enough!” Hyunjin yelled as they both grabbed Jisung by his arms and pulled him back.

“Don’t ever touch her again.” Jisung growled as the man stumbled back into the club.

Y/N frowned as she visibly hugged herself, only to see Hyunjin and Changbin give Jisung a subtle nod before they both went back inside, giving privacy to Jisung and Y/N. Once they were alone in the dark alley, that’s when she spoke up.

“Why did you come? Afraid someone might fall for me?”

“You clearly weren't comfortable with him.”

“So what? Why do you care? It’s not like he would fall in love with me. Who am I for someone to even like me? Right?”

Jisung frowned as he called out her name softly but she was quick to intercept.

“I didn’t go to Hankuk to get back at you for what you did to me. Never in a million years did I think I’d even see you again. But now that you’re standing here in front of me, that very day comes back to haunt me again. Because of your words, I have been so afraid of falling for someone, even just a tiny crush. That’s what you did to me Han Jisung and I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

With that being said, she turned in her heels and left. Jisung stood there like an idiot as he cursed himself for letting her walk away yet again. 

If this happened back in high school, he would probably laugh at her. But now that he was actually starting to like her, he has never felt so upset and disappointed. This was probably even worse than a break up.

She refused to speak to him for days after as she avoided everyone in the friend group.

It was a gloomy Friday night as she was laying on her couch sideways, watching a sappy romantic movie to drown her sadness. She was wearing a loose sweater that made it look like a dress on her. Her calf high socks and a pair of shorts she always wore to sleep.

She had just thought about what she could get for supper when there was a knock on her door.

“Who the hell comes at a time like this?” She thought to herself as she went over to her door and opened it without checking the peephole first. She almost stumbled as she locked eyes with the same pair of brown orbs that she’s been trying so hard to avoid for the past few weeks.

“Jisung? What are you doing here?” She asked, genuinely shocked at how he knew her address.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Please just hear me out. I don’t need you to say anything, I just need you to listen.”

She fell silent for a moment before she opened the door wider for him to enter. Once inside, he followed her to her living room, only for them to sit 3 feet apart. She urged him with a slight nod as he took a deep breath and soon began.

“Look. I know whatever I did to you back then was horrible. It was my ego talking. I didn’t know any better. We were so young… How could I possibly feel bad at the time when all I thought was to reject you?”

Just then, she cut him in by saying something that made him rethink his choices.

“You’re telling me that everything you said to me meant nothing to you just because it wasn’t you who received it?”

“I… I wasn’t thinking. I was young-”

“Bullshit. Even a 5 year old kid knows what’s nice and what’s hurtful to say to others. Don’t pull the young card on me.”

“Y/N please-”

“Get out. If you’re still gonna be the same arrogant, highly egoistic jerk then get out. You’ve said things that left a deep scar in my life and here you are saying it doesn’t mean anything? Get out.”

“Y/N-”

“I said get out!” She finally screamed as her chest was heaving, her tears streaming down her face in anger but she didn’t care. She got up as she dragged him to the door, while he tried to fight back. The minute he was out, she slammed the door behind her only to lock it as she found herself sliding down the door, only to sit on the wooden floor.

Her cries were soft, but they were filled with so much pain. On the other side of the door, Jisung could hear her cries as he too kneeled on the ground with his hands against the door.

He could hear her loud and clear as he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He couldn’t bear to say a word to her as he remained quiet.

The next morning, Y/N woke up suddenly wanting to get herself breakfast to clear her memory from last night. She got out of bed, took a warm shower, got changed into her sweatpants, a big hoodie and a cap. She unlocked her door and had just taken a step outside when she jumped at the slight of Jisung seated on the ground beside her apartment door.

Since he was a light sleeper, the sound of her door opening, woke him up as he quickly got on both feet.

Before she could re-enter her apartment, he pressed his palms against the door to prevent her from closing it as he spoke up softly.

“Y/N, please, please let me explain.” He begged as she wasn’t sure why but she decided to let him in. Once he was inside, they didn’t even bother to go anywhere further into her apartment as he stood by the door and began to explain himself.

“Y/N, please listen to me. I know what I did was bad. At the time, I didn’t realise how humiliating it was for you. But now that I’m an adult, I realized that my actions were extremely horrible and I would never, ever do that to anyone now.” He paused before he continued on.

“I know that whatever I said and did back then, I can’t take any of it back. And I don’t blame you for not forgetting or forgiving me for it. I admit that I deserve this from you. All I ask is for you to give me another chance to start over. But I understand if you want nothing to do with me.” He said with a tiny hope laced in his voice although he wasn’t so confident that she would forgive him this time.

She knew he felt guilty for whatever he did back then so it wasn’t wrong for her to give him a second chance right?

“How would I know you’re not just acting this way to set me up for humiliation again?” She asked.

“Would I say all those things and bring my ego down just to prove that I felt like utter shit after everything you told me, only to humiliate you even further?”

“Nobody knows what your ego is capable of.”

“If my words won’t convince you, would my actions do?”

“What if you do it, only to leave and tell on me to everyone else?”

“I can’t seem to get your trust now, can I?”

“Try being in my shoe and you’ll know.”

“Y/N please… I know I left a deep scar on you emotionally and mentally back then, but please… I beg you, please just… let me start over. I need you to trust me just this once.”

“Fine. But if you abuse my trust, I’m never speaking to you again.” 

“Believe me, you have no idea how fucked up I felt that night at Chan’s.”

Right after he finished his sentence, he didn’t waste anymore time as he reached up to cup her face in both hands and soon kissed her. She instantly melted against his body as he pulled her closer by the waist. His kisses were so gentle, as if he was afraid he would break her again.

His touch was soft as he slid his hands under her shirt only to draw random patterns onto her waist.

Just then, he pulled away from her lips but it was so addicting he couldn’t help but peck her lips one last time before he spoke up.

“I’m really, really sorry Y/N for everything back then. I couldn’t help but feel like complete shit after that night when I found out that was you. You don’t have to forgive me, I totally understand.”

Y/N just smiled as she gently tangled her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck before she spoke up.

“Would I have let you kiss me if I was still mad?”

He remained quiet as she then continued.

“Besides, I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself so please, don’t take advantage of this.” She warned gently.

Jisung kissed her for slightly longer before he pulled away and whispered against her lips.

“I promise.”

With that, she smiled as she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest while he snaked his arms around her smaller figure. 

Ever since then, Jisung did everything he could to redeem himself for what he did to her back in high school. She slowly began to fall for him as she gave him a solid second chance and she could see how genuine he was now whenever he did something nice for her. Even if he didn’t say it out loud, she knew that he really tried his best to win her heart. And it worked.

~~~

[love-takes-work]

Very Cool Potluck

Did you know that some people are so dedicated to reproducing Steven Universe recipes that they’ll both put cheese puffs in their sushi AND willingly bring durian into their homes?

I will teach you the basics of how to prepare the Cool Kids’ Potluck and also tell you the story of how I got food poisoning.

(Sorry, Lars’ ube roll is not included, because it didn’t make it to the potluck. It is available as a separate recipe, of course.)

See more SU food tutorials!

I decided it was time to do the Cool Kids' POTLUCK!

STEVEN: (holds up Snack Sushi) "Who's feelin' lucky?"

SOUR CREAM: "I brought the soda."

JENNY: "I brought the pizza."

BUCK: "I brought the assorted fruit."

And Sadie brought paper plates to complete the set. Too bad Lars's Ube Roll couldn't join them! 

Okay, so we have a four-part meal. Most complicated of course is the sushi! We can assume it is Snack Sushi, which I have made before but didn't really give instructions. Steven explains pretty well but doesn't give you a sushi rice recipe. How about I just tackle this here and show you how?

Recipe 1: SNACK SUSHI

Ingredients:

11 1/2 ounces sushi rice

1 1/2 cups cold water

4 tablespoons rice vinegar

3 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 package nori (seaweed sheets)

1 avocado

1 bag cheese puffs

Mayonnaise

Hot sauce

First, sushi rice is made a special way. I am no expert, but the way I do it has worked fine for sushi in the past. First you measure out your 11.5 ounces of rice and put it in a sieve, then wash thoroughly with tap water.

Put it in the pan you will cook it in, pour the 1.5 cups of cold water on, and let sit WITHOUT COOKING for 30 minutes.

When the soak time is up, turn on high and boil. As soon as it hits boil, turn to low, cover, and cook 15 minutes. Then turn off the heat and let steam in the pan for 10 more minutes. You now have fluffable, tasty, sticky steamed rice!

Next, make your vinegar concoction. Combine the vinegar, the sugar, and the salt in a small dish. Microwave it to dissolve the sugar. I did this in a few 20-second bursts. It smells strongly but I love that smell. Make sure when you stir it, there's no sugar on the bottom! It must be dissolved.

Pour the concoction over the hot rice and stir it in. You are ready to work with it!

From there, it is as Steven shows us in "Cooking With Lion."

• Put nori on a rolling mat, rough side up

• Spread sushi rice on the nori thinly

• Halve the avocado, remove pit, cut in slices and rub a spoon around the avocado flesh to dislodge it

• Place the avocado slices in a line on the rice

• Place a line of cheese puffs in a line next to the avocado

• Roll compactly, tucking as necessary to get it into roll shape

• Cut!

You'll also need to make "spicy mayo" for the garnish. Steven uses hot sauce and mayonnaise. Mix together and squirt neatly onto the top of each roll.

"Who's feelin' lucky?!"

And that's the recipe!

Tip:

Use rice shortly after cooking. Refrigerate it if you will not be eating it soon after. Guess who got food poisoning from eating old rice because of this? CAN YOU GUESS?? 🤢

Recipe 2: PIZZA

So I've made pizza from scratch half a dozen times already for this show. I'm not gonna do it again. (Here's my personal Fish Stew Pizza recipe.)

Jenny simply brings pizza from work! So I decided to go the easy route and purchase a commercial pizza this time.

We never actually see the pizza eaten. I will assume it's the default pepperoni pizza and add veggie pepperoni to mine.

Baking in the oven per box directions as I figure out pizza boxes!!

Jenny's got four dang boxes of pizza on that table. I'm sorry, but I will not be preparing four pizzas. I live by myself and am not actually having a real potluck here. I will use comic book boxes to provide the illusion of many pizzas even though I am only cooking one. Shhhhh.

I actually used paper cutouts and markers to design my own Fish Stew Pizza box!!

Done! Next!

Recipe 3: SODA

Another recipe where I don't really make anything. I am just dressing up a bottle of Diet Coke.

But at least I made it look like the soda Sour Cream brought (termed "So-Duh").

Recipe 4: ASSORTED FRUIT

Oh god.

Buck, you clown. 🤡🤡 You went and bought various pokey-skinned fruits and forced me to BRING A DURIAN INTO MY HOME.

Folks, do you have any idea what durian is?

Let's just say it's known as the King of Fruits and it is SMELLY. You can't look up anything about durian online without related news stories discussing areas where durian is BANNED, neighbors complaining if you bring durian home, and tips on getting the smell off your hands and out of your breath.

I've bought frozen durian before to make Durian Juice Boxes. It was bad enough frozen. But then I had to go buy a FRESH STANK MACHINE at the Asian Market.

The things I do for this friggin show

So we have pineapple.

We have dragonfruit.

And we have &%#!%@ durian.

Durian! People! Do you have any idea what my house smells like!!! And they put it in a bag like that because you can't pick it up without GETTING STABBED! god what am i doing

Anyway.

There, you happy?

Here is my beautiful POTLUCK.

Add paper plates because Sadie brought them and now Sour Cream is thrilled he doesn't have to do the dishes.

Also, I'm sure it wouldn't be all that much fun if you didn't get a quick lesson on how to eat the weird fruits, even though the Cool Kids did not cut into them. Right?

So after I recovered from food poisoning from that rice, I put down a plastic tablecloth on my outdoor porch table, gathered an assortment of knives and plates, grabbed some gloves, and prepared these fruits for eating.

Dragonfruit:

Cut in half. Cut further in quarters and eighths. Peel the fruit out of the husk and store.

Verdict: I don't like dragonfruit. It tasted like weird, hurty watery kiwi. Maybe you should know I'm allergic to kiwi. This is probably related. I shouldn't eat this.

Pineapple:

Cut the top and bottom off and discard (including the bush at the top). Slice the remainder completely in half. Cut the core out--you shouldn't eat it. Then slice each half and slice again into manageable strips. Cut lines in the fruit and cut them off into a storage container.

Verdict: I am allergic to pineapple so I didn't try it, but it smelled amazing. I saved it for my friend.

Durian:

All right, stank fruit, here we go.

Cut the stem off and flip the durian to stand on the top where you cut the stem off. Use pot holders to manipulate because otherwise IT WILL CUT YOU. Examine the durian's shape and see if you can figure out based on its bulges where the huge scary pods are inside. Make a cut through the very tough husk and pull it apart with your hands.

Pods will emerge. They are soft and delicate, so if you hold them too hard they'll break. Each contains HUGE seeds. Take the seeds out before eating. Go around the rest of the durian and get all the pods out. It's a scavenger hunt! Store.

Verdict: The smell is literally not any worse when you open it. It is a very thick, pervasive smell but to me it didn't smell like a rotting corpse or poop or anything.

But then I ate a little bit and the aftertaste was really dark and musty. Dip a butt in tropical fruit syrup. It was pretty vile. I swallowed it though, and my mouth was Very Unhappy. I do not like durian.

I guess I'm 0 for 3. My sushi made me sick because I left the rice out for hours, I can't eat any of my fruit, and I reused the pizza to make a damn Pizza Steve.

But at least my life is interesting while it's being a disaster, huh?

At least I can still drink my So-Duh.

See more SU food tutorials!

[exploradora-writes]

Fireside Love: An Arthur x Charlotte Fic (18+ Only)

Warnings: NSFW, wholesome smut 

Summary:  During a snowstorm, Arthur and Charlotte decide to use their time cooped up in their cabin wisely.

Word Count: 3,455

Notes: Thank you @the-halo-of-my-memory​  and @unpocowboys​ for helping me out with this fic. The both of you are very talented writers! I plan on writing more Charlotte and Arthur fics in the future. These two are one of my favorite comfort couples, so I wanted to make a spicy yet cozy fic about them. Warning: Tons of wholesome smut ahead...

This fic can also be found on my AO3 under exploradora_writes

The first frost flakes began to stick to the window, the kitchen gradually becoming colder as snowflakes began to fall from the pitch black sky outside. 

Charlotte sighed, tossing another log into the stove, her stew stubbornly refusing to boil. She glanced at the woodpile, the three tiny logs lying there in an almost mocking sort of way. 

The clouds blocked out much of the sunlight, but she knew it would be dark soon. She held onto the counter, trying her hardest not to think of the worst, but she couldn’t help it.

He could be lost, stranded with no direction, no food, no warmth.

She shook her head, coming to her senses. Arthur may view himself as nothing but muscle and absolutely no brain, but as his wife, she knew better. He had an excellent sense of direction and survival skills. Any minute he’d be through that door with a load of firewood, and maybe even an animal or two.

She asked if she could come. Two heads were better than one, she tried to reason.

“No, darlin’, as much as I’d love to go with you, I need you stayin’ home and watchin’ over the house, keepin’ it warm. Wouldn’t want any strangers takin’ residence while we’re gone, would we?”

More than one weary traveller, some more hostile than others, had taken up residence in their home on more than one occasion while the two of them were off on hunting trips. While she understood where Arthur was coming from, she couldn’t escape her fear of the worst. She’d already lost one of the men she loved dearly to the harsh conditions of nature, she couldn’t bear to lose another one.

Her motionless broth seemed to stare back up at her as it refused to boil. “You ain’t making this easy for me, broth.”

Talking to an inanimate substance? The snow really was making her stir crazy. Arthur had better hurry up before I start talking to the logs, she thought. 

Figuring the broth was nowhere near boiling over, she took those three pathetic logs sitting on the woodpile and tossed them in the fireplace. She looked around for a match, lit it with a satisfying strike, and tossed it on the pile. The flames licked up the logs, but Charlotte knew it couldn’t last long. She lay back on a chair in the kitchen, staring into the flames of the fire. She smiled, her eyes following the flames as they danced along the logs, remembering all those years ago when her and Arthur danced around the campfire on their little outdoor honeymoon getaway. They drank and sang and made love their fair share of times by the roaring flames of the fire. Sure, it was no fancy trip in the big city, but it was simple and memorable. 

Unfortunately, the fire before her sounded more of a purr as opposed to a roar. She let out another sigh, looking back at the empty woodpile, longing for her strong handsome woodsman to return.  

As if on cue, she heard the door handle jiggle, as the man she had been longing to see emerged from the snowy darkness outside. 

“Arthur!” She arose, practically pouncing on him. He moved his scarf away from his cherry red face, panting from the effort of carrying.. firewood. Loads of it. Charlotte sighed with relief at the sight, wrapping her arms around him. She didn’t care that he was like an icicle, nor that she would get wet from the snow that dusted his wooly blue coat. Her hands met his face, cold despite the large beard he sported. Her lips met his, her warm pink lips melting his icy blue ones. 

“Charlotte,” he breathed. “Glad I made it in time. Bundle up and help me haul in some of this wood. I have a feelin’ this is only the beginin’ of this snow storm.” 

She threw on a sweater, a coat, and a pair of boots. She opened the door to the dark depths of the winter night. The bitter cold nipped at her entire body despite being bundled up head to toe. She tried to imagine how good the fire would feel against her and her lover’s bodies once they were in the warmth of their little home. 

Arthur had made quite the haul. Firewood, some supplies from the general store, and even a deer. She smiled, feeling her body warm up as she thought of how wonderful and lucky she was to have a man like him. 

They fought against the wind back into the house. It took the strength of the two of them to even get the door closed. They both panted and fell against each other. 

“Well, we best get cozy, darlin.’ We’re gonna be here awhile.” Arthur said, removing his snow covered clothes. 

Charlotte returned to the kitchen, the pot of broth finally showing signs that it was preparing to boil. She threw another log on the stove for good measure. 

Arthur came up behind her and kissed her cheek, his cold lips sending a shiver down her spine. “How’s everything comin’ along?”

She smiled as the both began to boil. “Rather nicely now that you’ve returned, cowboy.”

“Hmmm I figured I’d have the opposite effect. My coldness would ruin any hopes of ever makin’ a good meal.”

“Quite the contrary, Mr. Morgan.” She stirred in the ingredients: savory chicken, carrots, onions, and peas. “Because I think you’re so hot, you make pots boil. You made mine boil when you walked through that door.” She looked back at him, stirring the pot in lazy circles. “Cheeks still rosy from the cold?”

“Er, yeah,” he fumbled, “you could say that.” 

She rubbed his face, running her fingers through his beard. “You hungry?”

His hands ran along her hips. “Starvin’..” 

“We could eat in front of the fire if you’d like. It’d be a nice change, don’t you think?” 

“Sure, sounds cozy.” He gave her hips one last squeeze before getting two bowls from the above cabinets. “Smells delicious.’”

“You talking about the soup or are you talking about me, dear?” She gave him a small smile. 

“Can’t I be talking about both?” Like a magnetic attraction, his hands were back on her hips.

“Goodness you’re handsy tonight!” She giggled. “Alright, soup’s on.”

He gave her cheek a quick peck before serving himself a large bowl of soup. She unwrapped some bread she had been saving for tonight and placed it in each of their bowls. They brought their meals over to the fireplace, sitting in front of it. 

Arthur took a sip, his body quickly warming up from the combination of the fire and the broth. He let out a satisfied groan. “This soup’s real good, sweetheart.”

“Well I’m glad you think so,” she beamed. “I always worry I’ll muck something up.”

“That’d be pretty hard for you to do, Char.” He smiled at her, motioning for her to sit closer to him. She obliged, cosying up to him and resting her head on his shoulder.

The sounds of the crackling fire and the slurping of soup filled the room. Arthur tipped his bowl back, finishing the rest of the broth. He let out a satisfied sigh and took Charlotte’s bowl as well, putting them next to the sink to be washed. He’ll clean up eventually, he thought. Right now all he wanted to do was warm up his wonderful wife.

  He changed into his union suit, catching a glimpse outside the window. The snow came down with a vengeance. He grabbed a log from the pile and tossed it into the dying flames. The fire continued to dwindle. 

“Goddamm it,” he muttered, bending over to grab the poker and stir the ashes around. He felt the familiar sensation of a hand giving his behind a light smack. He turned around, his wife looking around, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. 

He arched an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary, darlin’?”

“Was what necessary?” She tried looking away, but try as she might, her lips continued to curl into a smile.

“You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about, missy. Your hand just loves smackin’ my ass, don’t it?” 

“That is quite the accusation, Mr. Morgan!”

“I oughtta smack YOU on the ass.”

She smirked, tilting her head. “Well? What’s stopping you?”

He studied her for a second, then knelt down next to her. “Goddamn, have you always been this naughty?”

“Always have, always will be. It’s one of the reasons you married me, remember?” She lay back on the carpet. “Now get me a blanket, would you, darling? It’s freezing in here.”

He sighed, tossing her a few blankets. He tossed another log on the fire, then lay next to her. He wrapped his arms around her as she shivered against him. He scooted the two of them closer to the fire. “There, now that’s better.”

She nuzzled against his chest and yawned. “Arthur?”

“Hmm?” He looked down at her.

“How long do you think we’ll be in here? Waiting out this storm?”

He looked outside again, the snow showing no signs of stopping. “Awhile. Don’t know how long exactly, but we’ve survived much worse. ‘Sides, I stocked up on food and supplies, we’ll be fine.

She sighed, looking up at him and kissing his cheek. “Well, we’ve got plenty of time, what should we do to pass it?”

He chuckled. “Well, there’s always dominoes, and redecoratin’, and we can always be workin’ on our marriage.”

“Oh? And how exactly do you want to work on that?” She held his hand, circling his palm with her thumb.

“Well, when’s the last time we’ve had to ourselves like this? Seems like we’re always busy with housework, farmwork, all kinds of work. This is a good opportunity for us to just… be in each other’s presence.”

She hummed against his chest. “Sounds wonderful.”

The flames of the fire crackled, and Charlotte let out a small, breathy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Arthur asked.

“Oh just remembering our little honeymoon.”

Arthur smiled as the memories came flooding back. “That little camping trip.”

“Yes! Remember, out on the lake?”

“How could I forget? We tipped the whole damn canoe over!” He laughed, rocking back and forth and waving his arms around dramatically, reenacting the fateful moment. 

The two of them collapsed on the floor in a heap of giggles, cuddling up to each other to trap the warmth again as their laughter died down. Charlotte looked into the flames of the fire, a small smile on her face. “And the campfire,” she mused. “Illuminated the entire night sky. Millions of tiny stars, looking down at us.”

Arthur chuckled. “Yeah, I remember.Them crickets were noisy sons of bitches, weren’t they?”

“I think they thought the same thing about us, dear.” She ran her hands along his chest, gazing into his blue eyes that perfectly complimented his rosy cheeks. 

“Darlin’, you were the one makin’ all the noise,” he said in a low tone.

She sighed, resting her head against his chest. “You’re right, you always were a good lover.”

He rubbed her back, gazing into the flames as well. “You know, we could alway reenact that night. If you’re up to it that is.”

She smirked, smooching his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask,” she whispered in his ear, giving it a small nip. He let a gasp escape his lips.

“Jesus, darlin’.” His lips met hers as he gracefully flipped her onto her back. “I was on top, remember?” He pinned her wrists to the soft, welcoming rug beneath them. It was her turn to let out a gasp. A bead of sweat dripped down her brow, the weight of her husband’s warm body causing blood to rush throughout her entire being. 

She kissed his neck and moaned. “Are you sure I wasn’t the one on top?” She wrapped her legs around his torso and twisted her body around and caught him off guard. Arthur grunted, his wife now the one staring down at him. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Who knew such a typically mild mannered woman could have the drive and spunk of a working girl? He felt himself growing stiff beneath her. 

“No, darlin’, you’ve got it all wrong, remember? You were on top when we was by the lake, after we went skinny dippin’. I remember ‘cause the rocks were diggin’ into my back, but hell, it was worth is just to watch myself disappear inside of you over and over again.”

Warmth flooded her core as she began to grind against his leg. “Well, which was it, Arthur? Make up your mind before...before I..” She buried her face in the crook of his neck and moaned.

“Look at you…” he chuckled. “You gonna cum before I’m even inside you?” 

She shook her head. 

“Thought not. Goddamn, you must be soaked.” He held her against him and kissed her lips. He lay her back down against the soft texture of the rug, his hands exploring her body, as they had on that fateful night. “Now it’s all comin’ back to me. You were lyin’ there, the light of the fire dancin’ across your nude body…” His hands played with the straps of her nightgown before sliding them off, revealing her bare bosom. “Your breasts, milky white…” He planted kisses on them, his calloused fingers running across her pink buds. 

She bit her lip to stifle a moan. “Yeah? Then what?”

He slid the nightgown further down her body. “Your stomach, soft and delicate” His voice had grown low and a bit hoarse. 

Charlotte rubbed her thighs together, her breath shallow as she anticipated his next move.

Finally, he slid the nightgown completely off of her body, the cold air hitting her skin. She shivered, not from the air, but from the sensation of Arthur’s bearded face rubbing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He kissed all the way up her thigh until he reached her core. He placed his fingers against it, and while a layer of cloth separated his touch from her body, she still left out a soft moan.

“Yes...yes…” he growled. “I’m rememberin’ now. How you tasted…” He looked up at her as he slid her panties down her legs. “Darlin’, it’s takin’ everythin’ in me not to devour you right now.”

“W-what’s stopping you?” 

That comment again. God, she was a relentless tease. 

He stared at her as he gave her pussy a long, teasingly slow lick. She let out a soft whimper at the sensation of his warm tongue against her intimacy. Her juices continued to flow, and he was right there to lap them up with his eager mouth.

Her taste was familiar to his tongue, sweet as summer honeysuckles. His beard rubbed the skin of her inner thighs, and she arched her back as his tongue continued to explore the familiar territory of her folds. His cock throbbed against the tight fabric of his union suit. He longed to be inside her, to hold her against him as their heartbeats began to sync. 

He growled, fumbling with the buttons of his suit and he moved his head back and forth. He ran his hand along his entire length, finally letting it free from its previous confines. 

His wife couldn’t help but glance down and moan at the sight of her husband pleasuring himself while he pleasured her. She bucked against his face, feeling herself reaching her peak.

His calloused thumb made lazy circles around her clit while his other thumb circled the head of his cock. 

Charlotte bit her lip and whimpered, squirming against her husband’s face. 

“That’s it, darlin’,” he growled, “cum for me. You can do it, I know you’re close. Fuck…” His cock leaked with precum. 

She arched her back and moaned out his name, and while no one could feasibly hear them in the middle of the woods, right at that moment it felt like the entire world knew that Arthur Morgan was filling her with ecstasy as she reached her climax. 

She panted, her body coated with a thin layer of sweat. “Oh...Oh, Arthur..”

He panted heavily as well, sliding beside her and kissing her, his face and beard still lingering with the taste and scent of her. 

“Mmm that’s a good girl…” he whispered in her ear. 

Her hands squeezed his glistening biceps, then trailed down to his chest and stomach. She played with his chest hair, a sly smirk on her face. “My big man loves to eat, hmm?” she teased, kissing his neck and nipping his earlobe. 

“You’re damn right I do.” He let out a grunt, his cock twitching. 

Charlotte kissed him and shimmied the rest of his suit down his body. 

“Now we’ve just gotta stay close together so we don’t freeze to death,” she said, her hand gripping his length and stroking it. She kissed his lips, muffling the groan that escaped his mouth. 

“Mmm I want us both facin’ the fire,” he whispered. “No more fightin’ to be on top.” 

“Yes sir.” She obeyed, laying on her side facing the fire. 

He slid her body against his, turning her face so he could kiss her. He lifted her leg, reaching a hand around to rub her pussy, still soaked from their previous interaction. 

He slid inside of her with ease, both of them gasping practically the same breath. His cock inside of her was a familiar feeling that seemed to bring her more pleasure with each thrust. 

His large hand clasped her smaller one, the both of them unable to take their eyes off of the other one. The fire continued to roar, and while the outside raged with icy wrathfulness, the inside of their little cabin was a hearth of comfort and pleasure. 

“Darlin’, I…” he growled, twitching inside of her.

A familiar, floaty feeling began to rise in her stomach, and she let out a soft moan. 

He brought their clasped hands down to her sensitive bundle of nerves. With his hand over hers, he guided her and pleased her, as an artist guides his brush across a canvas, and as an artist creates a passion filled work of art, so too were they.

She squirmed against him, barely able to contain herself as she moaned out broken pieces of his name. 

“That’s it, goddamn that’s it…” he growled in her ear. “Cum with me, be a good girl and cum with me..” 

The fire crackled and sparked and so did she, moaning as she came undone once more. 

Arthur pulled out and groaned, spilling his seed on her stomach. 

The two of them collapsed in a heap of sweat, the both of them panting and staring up at the ceiling, holding hands. 

Finally, Arthur mustered up the strength to get up and retrieve a wet cloth to clean up his wife. He smirked as he cleaned her. “You were so good tonight.”

“So were you, dear.” She kissed him. “You always know exactly what I need.”

The fire began to fizzle out. Charlotte sighed and arose, retrieving a log from the pile and tossing it into the fireplace. The light of the flames illuminated every curve of her nude form. Arthur’s heart beat a bit faster at the sight.

He wished to God he could capture her in that same pose. He’d be sure to sketch a replica of it, hell, maybe have her model for him just so he had an excuse to see her naked again. Either way, the sight of her looking like a work of art made his heart soar. She definitely beat all the dirty cigarette cards he and the old gang members used to trade. 

“Something on your mind, Arthur?” 

He blinked a few times before chuckling. “Nothin’. Just thinkin’ about you and how lovely you look.”

She smiled and lay down beside him, kissing his forehead. “You’ve still got it, darling.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“I’m not kidding. You were wonderful tonight. It was almost identical to our honeymoon.”

He furrowed his brow and turned his head to look at her. “Almost?”

“Well, we weren’t under the stars!”

He looked out the window, the snow still coming down fast. “Darlin’, you’d better be thankin’ the lord we weren’t doin’ it outside. We’d be freezin’ our asses off in all that snow.”

She giggled, nuzzling against him and kissing his chest. “Well we may not have been making love under the stars, but you certainly made me see stars tonight, Mr. Morgan.”

He chuckled, pulling her against him and kissing her one more time before drifting off to sleep. 

[sunflowergirl522]

Herc’ata Part 2

Pairing: Din Djarin x Short!Reader

Summary: While visiting Cara and Greef Din meets a new face, one Grogu becomes attached to immediately. (Bubbly enthusiastic person and grumpy serious person ship dynamic)

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any but if I need to put anything let me know!

Word Count: 2480

Herc’ata Masterlist

The first week that Din travels with you, you and Grogu were attached at the hip basically 24/7. And as much as he enjoyed not having to keep a close eye on the kid all the time he was starting to miss the old dynamic. Not all of it, just some things like the child falling asleep in his lap while flying through space and having conversations with him. And as much as Din is enjoying having an actual sleeping quarter and being able to sleep without aloof his armor on, he does miss Grogu crawling onto his chest in the middle of the night.

You never meant to steal the kid away from the mandalorian. Oftentimes you would leave the kid in the cockpit and go off to do something else, but the little womp rat would follow after you. Mando’s never outright said anything about missing the kid but you can tell because, well let's be real who wouldn’t, but also you often catch him turning his head as if to look or say something to him but the kid will be either in your lap on the other side of him or you catch him doing it when you’re entering the cockpit with the kid in your arms. So, you decided to come up with a plan.

Din’s quick to put his helmet on and stand up with his hand already reaching for his blaster upon hearing his door open. When he sees Grogu standing in the entrance he goes to him and crouches down.

“Hey there buddy, everything okay?” His head turns from looking to his left to face Din. He coos and reaches his arms up for Din to pick him up. Din can’t stop the smile from forming under his helmet as he lifts his kid up. “Look who’s come crawling back you little womp rat.” The amusement and playfulness in his voice causes you to giggle before you move back into your room. Din hears the noise and steps out into the hallway just in time to see your door slide shut.

The next morning you’re up before Mando for once and you sit in silence in the cockpit and lose yourself in your thoughts while looking out at the empty space through the glass. You almost don’t realize Mando sits next to you, the child in his arms. You watch in your peripheral vision as hands the kid a small metal ball and smile a little as you turn your attention back to space.

“His name is Grogu.” Your head snaps to look at the mandalorian next to you shocked that he’s spoken. He’s barely said a word to you the whole time you’ve been traveling together.

“Grogu?” You whisper it to yourself but the kid in front of you coos and looks at you before looking back at the ball in his hand. “Grogu.” You’re louder this time purposely trying to get his attention. The kid looks at you immediately and babbles something. You reach out and offer your finger to his free hand and he takes it. “The name suits you kid.” You then turn your attention to Mando to address him directly. “Why didn’t you tell me his name before?”

“Needed to make sure you were trustworthy enough.”

“Oh, well that makes sense.” You smile at him and nod your head as you speak. “So, do you have a name? There’s no way it’s Mando, I mean if it is no offense or anything but that is just Mandalorian shortened.”

“I have a name.” 

“Well, what is it?” The mandalorian next to you doesn’t speak and you fake a frown and cross your arms after a beat of silence. “So you’re back to not speaking to me?” Another beat of silence passes. “You’re such a tease.” You giggle a bit to yourself breaking your fake upset act. Din lets out a quiet breath of relief seeing your smile grace your face again. “Let’s get you fed baby.” You lift Grogu out of the mandalorians lap and walk out of the cockpit and Din feels his heart ache as he wishes that you were referring to him.

“I should have some stew still, let me see.” You place Grogu down on the small table in the kitchen and go to check the fridge. Once you find it you pull it out and put enough of it in a pot to warm up for the three of you. You’re sure that Mando will want some soon too. As you wait you sit across from Grogu and play with him by rolling the ball back and forth. You make sure to stir and check on the stew every so often. 

Din sits with his thoughts for a while in the cockpit. He keeps thinking back to how he felt when the frown took over your face, how he immediately started to think of ways to bring your bright smile back. His emotions feel like explosions when he’s around you, they’re magnified once he steps into the same room as you. He doesn’t understand that or how he can’t keep you from invading his thoughts. When he finally gets up he follows the smell of food to the kitchen.

“Damnit why do I keep putting them away so high up.” You’re mumbling to yourself as you’re climbing on top of the counter to grab bowls when Din makes it to the doorway. The sight almost makes him chuckle, if it weren’t for the fact that you lost your footing climbing down he probably would’ve. Din’s quick to come to the rescue as he swiftly catches you and rights you on your feet. The wooden bowls clatter around the two of yours feet and your hands clasp around his arms. Your eyes are wide and your mouth is agape.

“Are you okay?” Your head snaps up to look at Mando.

“I am thanks to you.” You close your eyes as you beam up at him and Din swears he’s having heart palpitations. His hands are still on your waist and your hands have moved themselves up to his shoulders. Din feels the warmth radiating from you as if you were a sun again and he can’t stop the smile that forms under his helmet.

“You should be more careful.” You can’t hear the smile in his voice, it sounds as grumpy as ever.

“Yeah but it is what it is. Thank you for catching me though.” You kneel down to pick up the bowls and Din moves to sit next to the kid to prevent his mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t. His eyes follow you as you fill a bowl up and set it in front of Grogu. “Do you want some stew?”

The gleam in your eyes causes him to blurt out a yes without thinking it through. He curses himself as you turn around to get him a bowl. Maybe you won’t notice him not eating it, he thinks to himself as you place the bowl in front of him. Maybe you’ll be so absorbed in your own and making sure Grogu eats that worrying about him won’t even come to mind. There’s no way he’s in your head as much as you’re in his.

You noticed that he wasn’t eating immediately. When you sat down you noticed that his bowl was still full and that he wasn’t making a move to eat it, he just sat there rigid as if he had to be prepared for a fight like he always sits. You busy yourself with your own stew though, not saying anything about it. You keep glancing at him through your peripheral however. Grogu babbles and you lift your head and smile at him. You grab a cloth and stand to lean over the table to wipe the remains of the stew from his mouth.

“Do you want some more?” Somehow you knew that with the slight tilt of his head he did. As you place the refilled bowl in front of him you address the mandalorian again. “Are you gonna eat anything?”

Dins eyes widen at your words realizing that he was wrong in thinking you wouldn’t notice. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Your nose scrunches up in confusion as you down and Din smiles unsure why. “Why, are you allergic to something in it or what?”

“It’s part of my creed to not let another living being see my face.”

“So, no one has ever seen it? Not even the kid?” 

“Well…” Din trails off losing himself to the thoughts of Mayfeld walking away after seeing it and taking it off when he found Grogu in his cell.

“Well what?”

“Normally if you were to see it I’d have to kill you. The kid has seen it and one other person due to certain circumstances.” You’re quiet for a minute deep in thought and Din is about to say something when you speak up again.

“So is this like a mandalorian thing or like a separate thing? Because I’ve met a mandalorian before who removed his helmet when he wanted.” Din doesn’t know how to answer you. With meeting Bo Katan and her group and seeing them all be able to remove it freely and meeting Boba who went who knows how long without his armor, he’s not sure anymore that it isn’t a separate thing.

“Other mandalorians have claimed that I’m part of a cult, but I grew up as a foundling so I’m figuring things out now.” Your mouth that was set in a line due to confusion turns up into a kind smile.

“Well if that’s the issue with eating then I can fix it easily! Is it still alright if Grogu sees you without it?” Mando just nods at you in response. You nod back before standing up and turning your chair around to the counter behind the table. You have to sit on one of your legs to eat comfortably due to it being a little higher than the table but it’s comfortable enough. You smile at the hiss of the helmet coming off and the two of you eat in silence, both with goofy smiles plastered on your faces the whole time. 

***

That night Din lays awake in his quarters because he’s stuck thinking about that moment. Grogu’s been asleep at his side for a while now and sometimes Din will move one of his hands from behind his head to rub his small green one. He’s learned that it helps keep Grogu from getting restless in his sleep. He’s in the middle of doing just that when he hears your door slide open and your hurried footsteps past his room. When he doesn’t hear you come back for what feels like an hour (it was really just a handful of minutes) he gets up, careful not to wake Grogu and puts just his helmet on before rushing out of his own room. He follows the direction your footsteps went until he hears quiet muffled sobs coming from the kitchen. 

Upon entering he sees you hunched over the table with your head buried in your arms. The world that he’s gotten used to being so bright being around you dulled as he listened to you cry. He walks slowly over to your figure wondering if he should bother you, ultimately though his urge to make you smile won.

“You okay?” The sudden voice causes you to jump up and twirl around, giving Din a good look at your tear streaked face and red eyes. 

“Mando, maker you scared me!” Your hand flies to your chest before you sit back down this time facing the mandalorian. “I didn’t wake you up did I?”

“No, I was still up. Are you alright?” You look up at him as he takes a small step towards you getting a good look at him. Seeing him in just the long sleeved shirt and pants he normally wears under the armor is alien to you, that doesn’t stop you from drinking it in though. 

“I’m fine, um I should head back to bed.” As you stand and go to walk past him he gently grabs your arm to stop you. The warmth that radiates into your skin from his own stops you in your tracks as you realize that he doesn’t have his gloves on. 

“What happened?” You look up at him and can’t help but to feel safe in his presence. It’s not the first time you have but this time something in his voice makes you feel like nothing will ever hurt you again. So you’re quick to throw your arms around his waist and bury your head into his chest. He’s stunned for a minute before carefully putting his own arms around you in an awkward hug which causes you to chuckle a little bit.

“I have nightmares every so often. Sometimes they’re worse than others, tonight was a fairly easy one though.” You speak into his chest letting a few stray tears come out.

“What are they about?” One of his hands starts to rub small circles into your back while the other brings you closer. After a beat of silence he speaks again. “You don’t have to say.”

“Most times they’re about Alderaan, sometimes it’s just the memory of when I had shown up to the graveyard when I was supposed to be there to visit my parents, other times it’s from their point of view. Obviously I don’t know what actually went through their heads but I just imagine the fear they must have felt. And then the times that they aren’t about Alderaan and I don’t know, I don’t ever remember the full thing only the lingering sound of screams, the color blue, and the pure terror that courses through my body long after I wake up.” You breathe out, feeling like a weight has been lifted at telling someone else about the nightmares. “Tonight it was just a memory but I didn’t even make it through the whole thing.” You’re both silent after you speak just holding each other close. 

When you part from him and look up you can’t stop from giggling at how his helmet is lopsided on his head. You reach up and fix it quickly before Mando can grab your hands to stop you. Once you have them back at your sides you intertwine and fiddle with your fingers while smiling up at him. One of his hands comes up and caresses the side of your face using his thumb to wipe away the stray tear that left your eye. You unconsciously lean into his hand and let out a yawn before he brings his helmeted head down and places where his forehead would be to yours.

“Let’s get you back to sleep Herc’ata.”

Taglist: @remmysbounty @fanficsforheartandsoul

[internalsealpanic]

Radio Silence

Summary: You take Tim with you to a family reunion hoping to monopolize his time. You may have forgotten to tell him a few things. For example, the haunted radio.

masterlist

a/n: I’m sorry for the wait. I forgot that I am no longer used to describing atmosphere. This isn’t my best work but I hope you like it. This was based on my family’s tradition of sitting in the dark on Halloween listening to scary stories on the radio. This is mainly Tim Drake x Filipino!Reader because I realley wanted to try my hand at a bilingual character. You will see misspelling of words in the dialogue. That’s intentional on my part. There will be translations.

“Yes, Nay, he’s the one in the picture,”

“No! It’s the guy with-” You blow out an exasperated breath. You hear Tim snicker behind you and you dedicate half your brain cells to coming up with the best way to kick his ass.  “Yung mukhang Koreano. Yeah. Yeah. Dat one.”

“Yes, he looks more like a white boy. Mistiso.” You explain curtly.

“Yes, he’s smart. I hab standards,” Tim raises a disbelieving brow at you. You stick your tongue out at him but nearly bite it off when your grandmother speaks again.

“What do you mean doubtful?!” Tim looks absolutely delighted. A cheshire smile curling on his lips as he leans back into your couch. You glare at him then at your phone then at the ceiling then past that to glare at whatever god was up there.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME! Justine was an-” You mutter trying to remember the word.  “- an anomaly and you know it!”

“…..”

“Ok der were 2 anomalies!”

“3”

“Ok maybe Tim is the anomaly, but seriously, Nay, he’s fine,” You snarl, the jaggedness of your Gotham accent rearing its head. You wince but do not apologize. This will bite you in the ass later but you didn’t say it. You don’t like the taste of the word.

“No. I mean if you don’t want us to embarrass you at the church social then- Yes, I have been going to church,” You can see Tim rolling his eyes and mouthing liar with a twitch of his lip in the corner of your vision. “No, he’s not the showy type. Nay, I gotta go. The food’s burning,”

“Yes, Nay, I lab you bery mach,” You sigh into the phone letting your grandmother’s lather your tongue cutting into the briskness of your consonants. It held the same euphoria as taking off your shoes after a particularly long day.

“Unless you’re Dick, you can’t burn cereal,” Tim cut in carting you away from your reverie.

“Watch me, Drake,” You huff throwing a pillow at Tim almost making him drop his cereal bowl.

“So, can Gotham survive without Red Robin for a weekend?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked me this before telling your grandma that you’re taking me?”

“I’m just double-checking,”

“How considerate,”

“To be fair, your schedule is already volatile as is,"  You huff snuggling up to him on the couch. It was too cold in Tim’s apartment. You think a rich kid like him could afford to turn up the heat. Though, you aren’t exactly going to complain about an excuse to cuddle him.

Tim doesn’t make a move to push you away. Instead, he wraps his arm around you pulling you closer. This was the type of easy affection you two had become accustomed to. This was also the thing that will make your Schrade even more convincing. "True, but I asked Cass and the others to cover for me. Plus, your grandma sounds like she likes me,”

“Considering you don’t have a criminal record and aren’t currently being investigated, you immediately rocketed to the top of her list,” You answer absentmindedly stirring your cereal and taking a bite.

Tim whips his head to you and gives you a concerned look which you return with a smile full of cereal. He blanches at you, shaking his head and grabbing the remote to unpause the Star Trek episode you two were watching. You both prop your feet up and chew your cereal slowly, not feeling any reason to hurry.

How long has it been since you started? You’re pretty sure it was 1 AM when you started.

As if reading your mind, Tim looks at his phone, winces then turns back to the screen without another word.  You quirk your brow at him but decide that there is some truth to the saying ignorance is bliss.

You were gonna hate yourselves come noon.

 It’s noon, the sun has the audacity to show itself,  and you hate yourself.

You definitely, unequivocally hate yourself.

You groan in the passenger seat, head pressed against the cool window. The faint warmth of the sun glancing off your skin makes the tinges of nausea circling the periphery of your senses come to life. Your stomach does a cartwheel and you think- you’re sure you’re going to throw up but you aren’t gonna do that.

No way in hell are you gonna do that. Not when you’ve finally conned your way into monopolizing Tim’s attention for the weekend.

Ok, yeah, sure it was the result of some miscommunication between you and your cousin who then passed on the miscommunication to the whole goddamn family but that’s just what you call a happy accident.

You blow out a breath, greedily taking in all the coolness of the glass pressed against your skin calling your mind back to your body. You weren’t really good with handling the not sleeping thing.

“You ok?” Tim asked his eyes flickering between you and the alarmingly empty road. There was worry in his eyes whether it was the fact that you looked like shit or the fact that the road you were on looked like the opening to a terrible 80s slasher flick. It was Halloween after all. It would be pretty perfect. Dread licks at your stomach at the thought.

You let the silence lapse. In the corner of your eye, you see Tim’s hand tighten on the steering wheel. You stare at the expanse of farmland stretching to the horizon debating whether to humor his question or to let him stew.

“I’m fine,” You picked the third option.

“You don’t look fine,” Tim deadpans, turning to you.

“Stop looking then-” Tim scowls at you his pouty lips pulling into an angle. You sneer. “-You don’t look too good yourself, Kirk,”

Tim makes an offended noise. You look at Tim, really look at him, for the first time in hours. Tim, as per usual, looked obnoxiously handsome even though he was running on at most 30 minutes of sleep and had eye bags running down his face. Somewhere lost in his contemplative expression was the blindingly obvious hint of self doubt. You’ve seen it tons of times.

You peel yourself away from the cool glass to look Tim in the eyes. Dread swims in the pools of teal looking straight back at you. Tim’s mouth edges between a pout and a frown. You soften, shifting in your seat angling until your body is facing his.

“Whatever it is you’re overthinking it,”

“You don’t even know what I’m thinking!”

“Ay,” You chuckle and shake your head. “Tim, it’s you. You overthink everything. I don’t need to be a mind reader to see that,”

 Tim huffs. Maybe he was overthinking things.

“ ‘sides, I don’t see why you would be nervous 'bout meeting my family,”

Has it occurred to you I want to date you for real at some point? Tim thought a little frustrated.

You laugh when he frowns but instead of teasing him any further. You flick the radio on. Your hackles rise as it crackles to life. A smile flickers on your face when ‘All-star’ comes on. You cry out, a noise of shrill joy filling the air.

“Oh my god” Tim breathes, running his long fingers through his dark hair. “You absolute dork,”

“Kettle. Pot.” You grin.

Tim snorts as you loudly sing along with the radio. Unfortunately for him, your enthusiasm for the song was infectious. Somehow you both managed to miss every beat of the song.

You somehow felt like you were definitely forgetting something.

6 cans of monster and 5 things of 5-hour-energy drink later, you arrived. Tim’s nice-looking car pulls into the dusty gravel driveway of a rather large and old colonial looking house. Seeing the robust form of the large house looming in the distance injected your veins with a stifling source of dread. 

You love your family to bits but sometimes their presence weighed so much. You can feel their words already pecking at you, drawing pit and pieces of your self into frayed fibers. All you can think about were the comments hushed behind palms and the dissecting gaze of dark eyes. Your mouth feels dry and you can already feel your feet pivoting back towards the car.

Tim reaches for your hand, lacing his slender fingers between yours.  He smiles at you squeezing your hand. You can feel him rattling from his own anxiety but his effort steadies you. You grin at him and squeeze back.  

Your teeth click the entire walk up to the large oak doors. Tim squeezes your hand again, his teal eyes sweeping over you with a concerned glint. You furrow your brow and somehow he understands and raises his hand to knock on the door.

The door bursts open. Music and laughter wash over you as hands hurry you into the front hall.

“Nay! Dito na sya! May dalang gwapo!” (Mom, y/n’s here and they brought someone handsome.)

About 20 heads turn to look at you. Tim feels some embarrassment from the attention but that doesn’t last too long as in the space of about 5 seconds, those 20 heads were swarming you both, pulling you into hugs, shaking your hands, and ruffling your hair in varying degrees of force and order.

“Beh, you’ve grown so big” Your aunt coos squishing your face.

“Nena, look at this guy,”

“Tita, he doesn’t have any tattoos,” Your little cousin marveled looking bug-eyed as she lifted Tim’s shirt. You swat her away but take a quick second to subtly admire Tim’s sculpted abs. Your aunt scolds him and your uncle drags you to the main room where more guests were sitting chattering or screaming at a foreign horror movie.   

All the apprehension bundled into your stiff shoulders dissolves like seafoam against the overwhelming warmth of the festivities. The raucous laughter drags the roughness of Gotham away from your tongue. In place of your slow, careful syllables are quick clattering consonants and concise vowels. Your vowels were still elongated and angled to a sharp point unlike the nearly musical words of your cousins but as you said before ‘Gotham has its way of burying itself in your bones’. Tim just never thought about how saliently it showed itself in words. He wonders how his accent (folded, neat, and sterilized) sounds to you. He wonders how dull he sounds to you.

You have teased him about it. You’ve teased him endlessly about the way upper-class Manhattan just rolls off his tongue, how Alfred’s British affectations worm their way into his syllables. What you don’t tell him is how the smooth velvet of his words lull you into a hypnotic state that steals every bit of oxygen from your lungs.  What you can’t make yourself tell him is that you would gladly spend your whole life listening to him read a fucking phone book. 

The festivities were lively and informal. Jokes flying every which way. All alternating between your native tongue. You laugh into your drink, hiding the hesitant curve blunting your infectious smile. Tim nudges you to ask what’s wrong but you simply nudge him back and shake your head as if he had said something funny. Your relatives didn’t seem to notice your demeanor or if they did they left it alone.

Tim decides to leave it alone for now. Instead, he leaned into the flow of conversation. His years of speaking at galas working their magic on your aunts. They bombarded him with questions. Most of which sounded like screening questions at the embassy. You snarled at them more than once to knock it off but Tim shook it off. He knows they’re just worried about you the same way he worried for you. Well, not the same way but it was their way of showing they cared. He lets himself be immersed in the conversation.  It’s more like he tuned into the sweet sound of your laughter but made sure to dedicate enough restraint to not look like a love-sick puppy.

“Tanga!” (MORON!)

“Baliw!” (Crazy!)

“E gago ka pala, di ba halata yun?” (No shit sherlock, isn’t it obvious?)

Tim is at best confused as he watches the volley of words between you and your cousin. Your voices rising above the blaring karaoke. Anthony (?) clamps a hand on his shoulder and laughs as he watches you and Martin (?) hurl insults at each other. In the corner of your eye, you watch his reactions checking if he understood a word. He isn’t fluent but he understood bits and pieces. He’s heard you mutter angrily about customers enough times to distinguish an insult. 

“Dun worry about 'em. They won’t fight. They’re stupid but they’re not that stupid. ‘Sides, they’re too afraid of Nay for that,”

Tim gives Anthony a doubtful look. Anthony chuckles at him, clapping him on the back urging him to keep watching. He does if only to make sure you’ll be alright. When he does, he tunes into your words. Tim marvels at how musical you sound as you trade another round of rapid-fire jabs with Martin, how at ease you seem. Tim makes a mental note to get you to teach him. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure how he would justify it.  Admittedly, part of it was just wanting to spend more time with you.

He can probably swing it.

A surge of protectiveness crowds his veins when Martin grabs at you but his hand is swatted by a cane. The air crackles with a sharp snap. The room plunges into silence.  A small woman with silver hair stands tall and imperious at the other end of the cane. You and your cousins stiffen.

“Hi Nay,” You trail off with a distinct lack of grace. You swallow the lump forming your throat, robbed of any coherent thought by the stinging look in her eyes. You felt bare under her gaze. Layers and layers of skin peeling beneath the weight of her attention. Fury flickers like firelight across her dark eyes. Your skin suddenly felt like lint and you were sure you would catch fire.

A pause.

A bated breath held for what felt like an eternity.

“Iha(Iho), It’s been so long,” She says, softening. Her wrinkled face stretches into a kind smile that made you think of freshly cooked vegetables.  Her cane folding to her side as she loops her arm over your shoulders. “It’s nays to see you,”

A choked sound comes out of you and you feel something shake loose. “Missed you too, Nay,” You breathed. Tim feels awkward, fidgeting in his place.  

The soft smile on your grandmother fades a little. Her sharp eyes appraising Tim. The look wasn’t particularly venomous, but it left Tim feeling like he’d been cut open and analyzed. He wasn’t entirely sure of why you were all so scared of her before but now he fully understood.

She relinquishes her grip on you and urges you to go back to Tim. You frown a little, giving her a suspicious look which she returns innocently.  You let out a little breath before walking back to Tim’s side. She gives him another long once over before silently strolling away. His stomach churned but eased at your touch. You still look uneasy but you don’t fuss over it. Not when Martin decides that he wasn’t quite done with bickering.

 The festivities went on as normal. Maybe with a little less cussing going around. But Tim barely noticed when your laugh, free of any hesitance, echoed sonorously in his ear as he held you close. 

Roz presses a drink into his hand. “Congrats, you’ve survived round one of Nay’s hazing,”

“Round one?” Tim hiccups into his drink. He coughed. The beer was strong. A strangely potent amount of alcohol that made his throat burn.

“Yeah, Roz, that was more like round 2.” You mutter sullenly, distinctly taking no sips of the drink Roz had also handed you. The paranoid Bat-part of his brain screams that he’s been poisoned. He’s struggling not to let it win over but your conversation wasn’t helping.

“Nay will eat him alive,”

“I mean. She’ll do it nicely,”

“Pfffft, right! Ok, Tony, name one time she’s been nice.”

“How about-”

“The thing with Y/n earlier doesn’t count,”

“Why not?”

“There was a hidden agenda,”

“Oh shit! The bitch is right- Ow! You are!”

You look at Tim apologetically and squeeze his hand. Somehow this does not calm his nerves, but he tries his best to ease into his touch.

 On the trip here, you warned him that it was going to be exhausting. He assumed, incorrectly, that you were exaggerating. After all, he’s survived snobby rich people and his family. Your family seemed nice. He can survive a nice family dinner.

But what you neglected to tell him was that it would be sheer chaos.  He definitely wasn’t prepared for the sensory overload.  The house was almost unbearably loud compared to the manor. Every corner was filled with people chattering, playing games,  eating, and doing anything to entertain themselves. Sure, Tim was used to chaos but he was more accustomed to short bursts. He wasn’t quite as prepared for the seemingly endless stream of conversations and liquor.

You had definitely not prepared his poor unassuming introverted ass well enough. Not even halfway through the night, Tim was ready to crash. The 20 minutes of sleep he got beforehand had not helped. 

You, the angel that you are, guide him away from the party. You drag yourselves down the wide yawning corridor to the grand staircase.

Lit only by the thin veil of moonlight, the house showed its age. Walking up the stairs and walking through its hallways was like falling through time. The halls were lined with paintings, all landscapes and still-lifes. He’s thankful for that small mercy. His head swimming in liquor, he is reminded of the portraits at Wayne Manor and how their eyes burned at you as you passed.

The lack of portraits doesn’t make the house any less creepy mind you. Religious fixtures line the halls, crucifixes affixed to every arch-like mistletoes. There were doll-like statues of hollow-eyed saints at every corner table. It might have been the dancing moonlight but Tim swore he saw one of them move. Tim suddenly wishes he hadn’t ingested so much liquor.

Before long, you make your way to a bedroom. How the hell you knew which one to put him in was anyone’s guess. You lead him into the room. Touch gentle and careful as you coaxed him in. Soft jazzy music echoing hauntingly. The dancing moonlight and the solid shadows of the room highlighting your gorgeous features, drawing his attention to your plush lips. You lean over him to make sure he was indeed still part of the living. Liquid courage surging in his face, he presses his lips to yours. It’s cautious. He gently runs his hand through your hair, pulling you towards him with a push. The press of his lips is restrained, more of a question than a demand. Slightly chapped lips press against your sweet and searching.

Tim remembers the warm press of your lips, the way the pads of fingers trail against the soft fabric of his shirt, your warm breath fanning against his cool skin, then nothing.

Knock

Knock

KNOCK

Tim grouses into his pillow. Tim was having an absolutely wonderful dream. He could still feel your warm lips against his.  Tim squeezes his eyes trying to go back to sleep.

Knock

KNOCK

KNOCK

‘1 AM’ the antique analog clock at the nightstand reads.

“I’m up!” He lies burying himself further into the thick sheets.

His brothers really needed to stop breaking into his apartment at 1-

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

Tim nearly falls out of bed when he remembers where he is. He jams a shirt over his head and some sweatpants before stumbling to the door.

“Hey Tim, you coming?” Anthony asks through the crack of the door.

Tim opens the door a little wider. “Where?”

“Outside,” Roz shrugs vaguely.

 “Whe-”

You step out of your room, extremely hesitant. Your knuckles were turning white from apprehension. You look at Tim, surprise plain in your eyes. You flinch heat rising to your cheeks. Tim remembers the texture of your soft lips. He wishes that wasn’t a dream. You glare at your cousins who give you a confused look. 

“Roz, he-”

“Awwww, ‘insan, you’re actually coming?” Martin mocks clapping you on the shoulder drawing, what Tim considers, an adorable squeak from you. His heart almost leaps from his chest when your warm body presses further into Tim’s side. You can’t hear it but Tim’s breath stutters in his chest.  He loops his arm around you protectively. Martin gives both of you a sly conspiratorial look.

You scowl at Martin. Glaring with as much intensity and intimidation your burning cheeks would allow. Roz swats him over the head making him almost topple down the steps before Anthony even gets a chance to rebuke him. Instead, Anthony turns to you, brows furrowed. “You sure you want to come? Nay said-”

“La a!” Martin protested. Roz rolls her eyes and swats him again. “Dipshit’s right. Nay didn’t say jack,”

“Then why did you swat me?”

“E, I felt like it e,”

“Bish, whose side are you on?!” He snarls but before he can lunge at Roz, Anthony is already dragging him by the scruff of his neck.

“Shhhhhhhhhhh! Not so loud. The kids will hear us,”

“I for one will not help you wrangle tita’s crotch gremlins,”

“We’re going to be late and Nay is going to unleash hell upon us,”

Anxiously, you tug at Tim urging him to follow your cousins as they filed out through the back door.

 “Where are we going?” Tim hisses.

All four of you share a look.

“We’ll explain,” You promise.

 The journey was eerie. Punctuated by the fact that none of you explain jack. The walk was entirely silent, devoid of bickering or any sort of conversation. He can see the silence driving both Roz and Anthony mad. You honestly look like you’re going to keel over. The odd thing was that even the birds were silent. Not a single sound penetrated the thick canopy of juniper trees.

You wonder the woods guided only by the thin ribbons of silver light peaking through the thick clouds of leaves. Tim can feel your pulse as it thundered in your chest. No matter what was going on he would keep you safe.

You arrive in front of a rusted gate half a foot shorter than Tim. It was small, easily climbable with plenty of spiraling pieces to stick your foot into for purchase if needed. Your eyes cut to Roz who fished out a key he’d seen perched on one of the coat racks.  Hesitantly, you held your hand out for the key. Roz, on the other hand, all but slammed it into your hand, grinning in a mix of absolute glee and relief. Your teeth click as you worked the lock. He wants to suggest just going over it but you seem quite adamant and he wasn’t about to push your nerves.

Finally, the lock gives in.

You all file in one at a time in a sort of practiced motion. Beyond the gates was a path with its stones polished from a shine from use. The scarce light coming from the canopy of trees rippling against them. It lit the rest of the way still keeping the surroundings in deep shadow.

The path ended in front of a small dilapidated stone structure that seemed too small to house anything.

“Age before beauty,” Martin jeers, bending down dramatically urging Roz to go in. She, in turn, shoves him in with a swift kick. The dark interior of the structure swallows him whole. Her dark eyes cut to you. You swallow but ultimately you shrug off Tim’s hold and relinquish your death grip on Tim’s arm. You let out a shaky breath as you step over the threshold. Just like Martin before you, the shadows leave no trace of you.

Tim reaches for the last bit of your swaying blanket. Roz taking the chance shoves Tim over the threshold, his vision goes pitch black.

“See you there, lover boy~”

The darkness is all-encompassing making his eyes completely useless as much as he tries to adjust them. Instead, he strains all of his other senses. He feels the press of moss-covered walls closing in on him. The staircase only seemed wide enough to let one person pass at a time. The stairs wind in shallow predictable patterns. The scent of moss and burning firewood grew heavy as he made his descent. Distantly, he could hear the soft padding of your shoes against the stone but he also heard the crackle of jazzy music. It was the kind he only heard from the old black and white movies Bruce and Alfred watched. It was oddly familiar but he couldn’t place it. The smooth baritone of the singer rattles in his head. A shiver of mild discomfort travels up his spine.

After what feels like an eternity, Tim emerges. His eyes slamming shut from the sudden brightness of his surroundings. He blinks, eyes adjusting to the light. His eyes take in his surroundings.

He was in a clearing. It was man-made, constructed using the same stones that lined the path you’d taken. The stone walls were covered in moss and ivy, but the stone that did peak out reflected the moonlight freely raining drown from the clear autumn sky. In the center of the space, sit 9 people including yourself. All cast in the warm glow of the crackling bonfire. It is a living thing, raging and casting shadows sharpening and obscuring features.

“I’m so glad you could join us, Timothy,” Your grandmother calls out as she fiddles with the nobs of the old radio perched in her lap. It crackles uncooperatively despite her efforts. He can’t pry his eyes away from it even as he takes his seat next to your shivering form.

Without much thought, Tim pulls you close. You tremble, teeth still clicking eyes wild and fixed on the radio. The radio is a curious thing. It’s an old model. It’s sleek but dotted with various nobs and switches. If he had to guess, it was something out of the 1960s. In the periphery of his senses, he hears Roz and Anthony step out of the staircase and take their places in the circle with Roz sitting right next to your grandmother.

Your grandmother stops fiddling with the radio then turns to Roz who is now comfortably seated. Your teeth chatter and your shoulder hitch as they silently converse. Roz inhales then exhales. Her dark eyes sweep over all of you making sure she had your attention. Based on the silence and the still forms, she did. She sits a little straighter, her shoulders rolling back.

She throws herself into a tale. It was a story she’d heard long ago about a man, a house, and a secret. Her calm voice carries over the soft roaring of the bonfire. It wasn’t the scariest tale Tim had heard but Roz told it well. Well enough to draw squeaks from several people including yourself.

Tim relaxes catching on to the turn of events. He lets you press into his side as you make your feeble attempt to get away from the story. Tim chuckles at the amount of theatrics you’ve all put into building up to this little gathering. However, all his smug skepticism vanishes when Roz finishes her story.

The static from the radio vanishes. Its various nobs move without assistance and its switches click into place.  The same baritone voice carries from the radio. Tim doesn’t hear what it says as his mind reels. He turns to you and opens his mouth to ask but Anthony begins his tale before Tim can even formulate his question. Beside him, you fidget with his sleeve shaking hands clenching and unclenching on the fabric.

Tim remembers how much you hate ghost stories. You’d once gotten sick with a fever just from watching horror movies. At this point, you were on the verge of tears. Your breathing slowed abnormally as Martin finished his story. The radio predictably did not whirr to life after his story. Through your chattering teeth, you give your cousin a vicious smile which he volleys by sticking his tongue out petulantly.

It’s your turn.

You squeeze Tim’s hand twice before worming out of his grasp. You flutter your long lashes, lightcatching in them looking golden as the fire flickered urging you to delve into your story. You roll your shoulders and let your blanket and apprehension slide away in one smooth action.

You tell your story.

 Your countenance still and grave as you tell a story of crossroads and terrible choices.

The radio huffs, seemingly amused by your effort.

“Well, y/n,” The radio coos. Your name drips like molasses from its speakers. It’s unsettling how crisp it sounds. Its voice absent of static as it addresses you. “You sure do know about bad choices. I believe so does that young thing- Pardon me. Young things swimming in the harbor. They’re just a tinsy bit cut up about it.” The radio teases almost sounding gleeful. You nod gravely, stomach reaching the floor.

Harbor?

You settle back down into your seat. Tim nudges you, cocking his head to the side to question you. Your fist clenches and unclenches in your lap before you look him in the eyes again.

“Case,” You mouth silently.

It clicks.

The harbor.

 The bodies.

That’s what the radio meant.

Someone clears their throat urging Tim to tell a story. He stumbles through a half-remembered urban legend he heard from Steph awhile ago. His mind far too preoccupied with the new information to really devote to any theatrics.

 His turn passes.

And the stories continue as he mulls over the information.

It’s your grandmother’s turn. Your hand grips Tim’s arms white-knuckled. You attempt to swallow down the fear but it catches in your throat constricting your airway. The flames dance casting her face in sinister shadows that bring out all the sharp angles in her features. Her smile curls cruel. Her bony fingers trace the seems and delicate patterns embossed on the old radio. Static erupts loud then dies down just as quickly. Her smokey voice fills the air. Heavy and commanding. The story spills from her lips smooth and velvety slick with gore and unspoken horrors. None of you dare to speak. Some don’t even breathe. Your hands scrabble for purchase on Tim’s shirt as you bury your face in his chest. You feel him wrap himself around you shielding you the best he can. Ear pressed to his chest, you can hear Tim’s pulse hammering. The terror soaking through to his bones. He remains steady. Unflinching even as the story reaches its climax.

The flames flash, fade, then flicker.  

The radio crackles.

The smooth baritone of its voice distorting into something undeniably inhuman.

Shadows dance.

Their hands reaching out as the flames did. A hard yank from one of them nearly topples you out of Tim’s arms.  He shifts you both away from their grasp. He glares fiercely at them making sure you’re safe.

Sorrowful moans fill the air but your grandmother is undeterred.

With a shrill cry from the radio, everything dies down.

The shadows retreat.

The fire simmers down now small and tame.

Everyone lets out a breath. Both of you could feel everyone unfurl. Tense muscles, locked jaws, tight chests all loosen with the end of the story.

For a long moment, the entire circle is still. Then your grandmother stands up. The rest follow her in a mostly quiet procession up the steps.

“Roddy was harsh this year,” Martin whines.

“Nope, you’re just terrible at it. I mean hell even y/n got an answer. It was creepy as all shit but they got an answer,”

“Uh- Is it a good time to ask what just happened?”

Your cousins turn to you.

“You really didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“How do you propose I bring up the demonic radio?”

“Pffft,”

“Pirst, it isn’t demonic. Do you really think Nay would have kept it if it was?”

“She lets Martin hang around,”

“…….”

“Dis is a good point,”

“HEY”

Tim clears his throat.

“Raaayt, Ok so… once a year we tell the spooky radio stories so we can get answers or our future told,”

“Was the whole creepy walk necessary?”

“Nope,” You answer in chorus.

“It’s just our way of psyching up for it,”

“It’s your guy’s way. Tita at least let’s me hum songs,”

“Well excuse me for not wanting to listen to you sing,”

“Is there anything else you guys want to tell me?”

“Aside from y/n really not wanting to tell-”

You snarl at your cousins, red-faced and bearing your teeth. Martin and Roz cackle as they run. Anthony has the decency to at least look slightly apologetic as he runs.

“Y/n… What aren’t you telling me?”

“Tim, I- I’m- Damn it- I-” You put your hands on your face. You try to calm your breaths. “Look Tim, I-”You take another breath. “I’m sorry. I kissed you but you were drunk-”

“Wait that wasn’t a dream?” There’s a flicker in Tim’s chest.

You look at him mortified. You want the ground to swallow you whole. “Yeah, I- Tim, I know it’s- I’m sorry.”

He remains silent.

Your stomach feels like it’s going to burn up.

“I-”

“I want a redo,”

“A what?”

“A redo,” 

a/n: I will rework the ending at some point but thank you for reading! 

 taglist:   @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders (I wanna drag you into Terry hell), @l-horizon11

[foodbytesback]

A Millenial's Guide to Dinner Parties

Ok, sorry.  I didn’t have time to write anything real  for this week, because I was too busy planning a dinner party.  But uhhh that counts as a food-related topic, so I’m just gonna write about that. 

You may be asking “just how much “planning” do you need?” The answer? Much.  

I feel like I never understood how “we’ve been planning this dinner for months!” made any sense as a sitcom throwaway line, until I tried to plan a dinner between myself and 3 other adults- 1 who just started a second job, 1 who just started grad school, and 1 who lives out of town.  But people who love to say “fail to plan, plan to fail” rarely seem to specify what kind of planning that entails, so let me break down my approach (or, in some cases, things I learned in light of my approach) so that you too can funnel your anxiety into worrying about all the right things.

Consider your living space

Since I knew 2 of those 3 really like Indian food, I decided I’d base the menu around that.  Incidentally, this ended up having one major benefit that I would recommend keeping in mind: if you, like me, don’t have a proper dining room table, don’t serve anything that would require a fork and knife.  If you’re gonna be eating on the couch (Or, if you have a studio that doesn’t have room for a couch, bed? Floor? Getting imaginative about how to host people in a studio is its own challenge), you should consider serving something that can easily be eaten one-handed while balancing the plate in your lap.  Besides curries, I would also recommend tacos (or any kind of finger-food), stir-frys or any sort of braise/stew, although a soup that’s too thin is just asking to be spilled.

Cook as much as you can ahead of time

The day of the event, you’re really gonna want to make sure all your mise en place is… uh, en place.  It’s a given that dishes that are a multi-day process (like the bread dough for the naan) are going to be done well beforehand, but you really will be better off taking care of as much of the things that could be dismissed as doable the day of as you can the night before (or the day before that, depending on your schedule, if your produce is fresh it will survive a couple of days chopped).  For me, this meant dividing up the bread dough into smaller, individual portions, pre-cutting anything that needed to be cut (which luckily ended up being just onions, garlic, one serrano pepper, paneer, and chicken), marinating the chicken, and making the sauce for the chicken tikka masala.

You may have noticed that one of those containers used to be soup.  Or that the pepper’s in a ziplock bag.  Yes. Listen: I don’t work for Food Network, I don’t have hundreds of those little bowls lying around.  I didn’t even have lids for most of those deli containers.  I can only steal so much from work before it becomes noticeable.  If you’re only making one thing, feel free to combine ingredients that get added in at the same time in the recipe together in one container.  I ended up keeping most of mine separated out like this because I needed garlic for pretty much everything, so it made sense to just have one big thing of garlic, etc.  Honestly, you should just have one big thing of garlic on hand at all times, dinner party or not. 

Even with all that prep, it still took me close to 2 hours to cook the chicken, add it to the sauce that I had dumped into a crock pot for reheating, put the rice on, make the 2 paneer dishes (for clarity: saag paneer and a weird dish one of my friends mentioned liking that doesn't’ seem to have any actual basis in Indian cuisine that’s just paneer sauteed with onions and cumin seeds) and bake off several naan.  Which leads me to my next point...

Provide entertainment that doesn’t involve you

Yes, the whole point is that you want to spend time with your friends. But, unless you’re making something like dumplings, where you can easily enlist your friends to help you, you’re gonna be alone in the kitchen while your friends hang out without you.  In this case, they played WarioWare on my Switch and played/made fun of this weird foodie trivia game that I had never even bothered to unwrap from its protective plastic that focussed way too much on Julia Child-era cooking shows, wine varietals, and antiquated edicate, all while I listened from the kitchen.  Because my apartment is pretty small, “from the kitchen” means about 5 feet away, so it’s not like I was really feeling that left out.  I was able to break away from cooking every-other question or so to shoot someone a judgemental glare any time they couldn’t get an answer that I assumed was somewhat-common knowledge right. I should also mention that if you know it’s gonna take a while to cook everything, put out some sort of snack, too.  I hadn’t thought about this, and ended up throwing a box of pumpkin spice Twinkies at them.  

I guess this can be avoided by just having them come when the food is ready. I guess. 

Clean as you go

This is pretty much true for any time you cook something, but seriously, the dishes really start to pile up when you’re cooking larger quantities.  This goes double for things like tasting spoons, which I’m normally fine with reusing when I’m cooking for myself, but I will NOT subject my guests to double-dipping.   And take my word for it, you’re gonna want to go into the actual serving of dinner with an empty sink, because after everyone’s left you’ll turn around and be caught completely off-guard by how many dishes have to be done.  

Have fun and be yourself

No, really.  If your friends are anything like my friends, they’ll just be happy to see that one friend from out of town again or at the very least get a free meal.   Like, despite (or because of?) my obsessive planning, when the time came to actually start cooking I felt no pressure to have to go at my usual breakneck line cook pace, because my friends were there to have a fun little evening, and that’s exactly what I gave them.

[my-funky-little-cowboy]

Cowboy Couture

Yeehawgust Day 11 Words: 1,585 Characters: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Albert Mason Pairings: Implied Charthur Warnings: Fluff

This was part of an collab piece with @peacesentinel​ that we both kind of forgot about, but at least now it’s getting some light. You can find more of his work on his twitter

Arthur dropped the buck heavily next to Pearson’s wagon. He stared at it as he cleaned half dried blood off his hands, discarding the small rag before cracking his neck. 

“Good thing you dropped this off! I don’t think I could have, in good conscience, used the supplies we had left. Thank you, Arthur.” Pearson clapped him on the back before he dragged the carcass to the back of the wagon for dressing. 

Arthur sighed and returned to untack Ulysses, the sun slowly dipping beneath the horizon. He eyed the stew pot lazily simmering over the fire as he passed and decided to opt out, considering that the deer wouldn’t be properly butchered until morning. 

“Letter came for you.” Tilly caught him by the elbow as he passed.

“For me?” Arthur stopped, confused.

“From Saint Denis. Real fancy.” She cocked an eyebrow. “You got someone special out there we don’t know about?” 

“This old fool? Nah.” Arthur dismissed, but Tilly’s coy expression remained.

“It don’t look like that Mary girl’s handwriting, so who is it?” Arthur shot her a glare and she sighed, exasperated.  

“Fine," she pouted, "I left it on your table. It’s just so boring around here, Arthur. This looked exciting!” 

Arthur shook his head, “If it’s some secret admirer, I’ll be sure to let you know.” Tilly scoffed and waved him off dismissively before wandering over to the music that had started near the fire.

He quickly finished untacking Ulysses and headed to his tent, curiosity piqued despite himself. He picked up the letter, the handwriting unfamiliar, flipping it over in his hands a few times before gently sliding his knife along the fold to open it.

Mr. Morgan,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have gotten myself into a bind and I didn’t know who else I could turn to. I am in need of two able bodies for a project. I’m in St. Denis, ask for me around the Bastille. 

I hope to see you soon!

A. Mason 

“Ah, shit.” Arthur sat down on his cot. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

What's Albert gotten himself into now? He promised to stay away from wildlife the last time they'd parted. He laid down on the cot, what's he gotten into that he’d send me a letter? Kneading his knuckle into his eye until he saw stars, he sighed. Saint Denis is the place to find out. Angling his hat over his face, he decided, the city's only about half a day’s ride. I'll swing by tomorrow with someone, just to check it out.  

                                                           ---⤱---

Arthur blinked the sleep from his eyes, the dull pinks of the rising sun blearily shining through the canvas ceiling. He stretched and stepped out of his tent, crossing over to the fire. Hosea adjusted the percolator near the flames before turning to face Arthur.

“Morning, Arthur.” 

He offered a little wave in response, grabbing an apple from the wagon and kneeling near the fire. 

“Coffee will be ready in a bit,” Hosea took a seat at the table, picking up the paper and thumbing through it. 

“I gotta check on a lead in Saint Denis later. You hear anything else that may be worth investigatin’?” He took a bite from the apple and Hosea lowered the paper.

“Saint Denis? What’d you find out that way?”

“Ain’t quite sure, but I was gonna bring Charles along.” He poured them both a cup of coffee.

“Bring me along where?” Charles rounded the wagon to join them, a can of peaches in his hand.

“T’check on a lead in Saint Denis.” Arthur tossed the apple core into the fire and stood up, taking a sip from his coffee. “Was just going to look for ya. Ride with me?”

“Don’t draw too much attention.” Hosea shook out the paper, returning to his reading as Charles nodded, already heading to the hitched horses. 

They rode south for a while, briefly stopping to water the horses at a small farm outside of Rhodes. Arthur pulled the letter out of his satchel, re-reading it. 

“So what is this lead?” Charles asked, his eyes flicking down to the letter in Arthur’s hands.

“Checkin’ up on a friend. Got this letter in the mail. Sounds like he may be in a bit of a situation and needs some help.” He held the letter up in a hand. 

“Old gang member?” Charles pressed, suddenly cautious.

“Nah, just a stranger I helped out a few times. A photographer. Wanted to take pictures of all of the untamed wilds of America, before civilization destroyed it. If I hadn’t come along, nature would have surely destroyed him first.” He shook his head, exhaling a laugh.

“You think he might be in trouble? Why?” 

“I ain’t sure, but he asked for help and it ain’t that far, so I thought I’d investigate.” He shrugged. 

“Why’d you need me?” Annoyance peppered Charles’ voice.

“He said he needed two people.” Arthur tucked the letter away, whistling for Ulysses and swinging himself up onto the saddle.

                                                          ---⤱---

They pushed the doors to the Bastille open and were greeted by the bartender and a handful of patrons looking up as they made their way to the bar. 

“What can I get for you fellas?” The bartender leaned against the counter.

“We’re lookin’ for someone.” Arthur said, “Was told to ask around here. He’s a photographer- Albert Mason, you know him?”

“Maybe I seen him around. Ya’ll bounty hunters or something? Can’t imagine that boy in any sort of trouble.”

“Not exactly- he sent a letter for us to ask ‘round here for him.” Arthur pulled said letter out of his satchel and put it down on the bar. The bartender eyed it lazily before turning his attention to another patron.

 “He rents a small apartment above the tailor. That’d be the best place to start. Ya’ll gonna order anything?” Arthur glanced at Charles, who shook his head.

“Nah, thank you kindly.” He dropped a couple coins onto the bar and they headed back out into the street.

                                                          ---⤱---

Albert opened the door, a huge smile making him practically glow as he recognized the familiar face.

“You came! I wasn’t sure the letter would reach you! Come in! Come in!” He waved them both inside. Charles looked at Arthur, who shrugged and followed Albert inside.

“'Course we came, you said you was in a bind. Everything okay?” Albert spun around, his face painted with confusion.

“Of course I’m okay, I’ll explain everything when we get to the studio. But first you both need to change.” 

“Change?” Charles interjected. Albert nodded and rummaged through some things on his desk before producing a couple brown paper packages.

“These might be a bit large.” He handed a package to each of them. Charles held up his hand.

“Change for what?” Charles’ tone was laced with apprehension and Albert furrowed his brow, confused.

“The photoshoot?”

“The what?” Arthur raised his eyebrows, “You said you was in a bind!” 

Albert turned red, realizing only now how his letter came across. He threw his hands up defensively before covering his mouth in embarrassment. 

“Oh! Oh no! I am so sorry. My letter.” He drew his hand across his face. “You...thought I was in danger...”

Arthur nodded, his lips pressed together in frustration.

“No, no, no, no. I got this photography job, on the recommendation of my acquaintance Algernon, to do a photoshoot for a catalogues new clothing line. It’s to be the first use of photographs in the Wheeler Rawson.”

Arthur exhaled slowly, his grip on the package tightening, frustrated more-so with himself for reading too much into the letter. Charles shook beside him and Arthur felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him, fueling his anger. 

A masked chuckle broke the tension, both men turning toward the sound. Charles broke, letting out a chorus of raucous laughter. Arthur flushed, turning to face Albert; he sighed heavily and shook his head.

“Got anywhere with a bit’a privacy?”

                                                          ---⤱---

The studio was set up when they finished changing, Albert directing them on how and where to stand. The starched clothes dug into them, Lemoyne heat making it nearly unbearable to stand still, bright studio lights only making matters worse. Albert tittered about, posing them.

“Just like that, perfect, don’t mo-” Albert sighed from behind the camera. “Stop messing with your shirt.” Arthur pulled at the stiff collar, unbuttoning the top two before Albert swatted his hands away.

“Ain’t no one really gonna wear this shit.” He grumbled.

“I don’t know, that shirt suits you.” Charles quipped, scratching at his own shirt before tying his hair in a loose ponytail to cool down. Arthur scowled at him

Albert straightened out Arthur’s collar and stepped back surveying the shot. He leaned in and unfastened Charles’s top button and stepped back again. The boys discomfort grew as he continued to stare. He checked the viewfinder on the camera. Sweat trickled down Arthur’s forehead, before he could think he pulled his hat off and wiped the sweat away with his forearm, slicking back his hair with and replacing the hat firmly on his head.

“No, no hat.” Albert exclaimed from behind the camera. Arthur froze. 

“Give it to Charles.” Arthur plopped the hat onto Charles’ head, his hand hovering as he waited for Albert to respond. 

“Perfect.” Albert whispered. Arthur returned to his pose, glancing down to see Charles grin before he heard the soft click of the camera.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Protea (Part 5)

She hears Snapdragon before she sees her. That steady and familiar clank-clack of her necklace. Mai could swear that she has added more knick-knacks to it. Her eyes hone in on it for a moment. She wonders if maybe the woman swaps out which trinkets she wears around her neck every now and again, or maybe she simply has several of these necklaces.

“No flowers today?”

“I’m all out?”

“All out?”

“I was only planning on sticking around until the festival was over.”

Snapdragon’s brows crinkle. “But I thought…” She swallows. “Mohi’s gonna be mighty disappointed.”

It dawns upon her that she had forgotten to mention that when she had offered the woman a job. “Stop looking at me like that, I’ve decided to stay.”

The woman seems to perk up again. Mai doesn’t think that she has ever seen someone’s eyes light up so brightly.

“What made you decide to stay?”

“I guess that I needed a little excitement in my life.”

“Oh. Where are ya gonna get that?”

Mai quirks a brow. Snapdragon points to herself and Mai nods. “I’ve never explored an abandoned industrial park before. My parents would kill me.”

“Where are you gonna be staying?”

“The palace.”

“The palace. How did you manage to get room there?”

“I used to date the Fire Lord.”

She blinks.

“It’s a long story. It ends...not so well. But he owes me and my family so I’m staying there.”

“That’s incredible. I’ve never been in a palace. Unless you count the factory. Sometimes I call that my palace and I made myself this throne, I can show it to you one day.” She resembles. Mai folds her arms and gives a slight smile as she continues. “But an actual palace...maybe one day you can take me there!”

“The flowers aren’t in yet so we have a few days off. I can take you there now, if you want. We can get you to the royal spa and wash some of this dirt off of your cheeks.”

“It’s not dirt, it’s oil and grease.”

“Because that’s much better. Come on.” Just as she turns around she catches Snapdragon rubbing her cheek. The effort was valiant and well-intended but she has only spread the grime to her nose and the back of her hand. Mai wonders if the woman will even take well to having a real bath.

.oOo.

Up close the palace is twice as thrilling with its spoked and multi-tiered roof. What a delight it would be to get the chance to shimmy her way up the side of it and leap from tier to tier. To grip those large golden spokes and find footholds in the windows and on the balconies. Of course, she wouldn’t trade her factory for it but the offer is pretty.

It is only when she lingers in its shadow that it becomes so terribly daunting. It isn’t so much about it’s impressive, awestricking size as it is the promise of what waits for her inside. All of those glamorous people and their lavish lifestyles. Their clean faces and pristine manners.

“Come on.” Mai gives her a gentle nudge.

She quietly follows her up the stairs. More stairs than she has ever ascended in her life.

“Nervous?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t chattering my ears off.”

“This isn’t nervous silence, it’s a...uh...it’s a happy hush.”

“A happy hush?” Mai quirks a brow. For once her amusement is quite thinly veiled. “If you say so.”

Inside the palace is somehow more elegant than its grand exterior. Portraits and tapestries cover gold trimmed walls. Candles flicker in filigree wall holders fixed to many great pillars. Everything is huge, almost absurdly so. She wanders up to a vase and eyes it. She thinks that she can squirm her way into and stand within with her head only just peeking out of it. She makes off to try when Mai says, “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t you dare crawl into that pot.”

Snapdragon frowns and scrambles to catch up with her.

“You really like exploring, don’t you?”

She nods, “you should see the jungles of Hira’a. They were really fun to explore. I was found in a jungle, you know?”

“That explains a lot.”

They pass by several guards and servants. Their eyes seem to follow her. The unease works its way back in, pushing out her sense of adventure. She finds that the stares of the servants have nothing on the glances she receives when Mai leads her into the banquet hall. Around the table are what she can imagine are councilmen, esteemed generals, and noble folk.

She had made a small effort to clean herself up today but she feels absolutely filthy amid all of them. They all smell so pleasantly and there isn’t a smudge of mud on them at all. Not on their finery and certainly not on their skin. Her tummy turns with flutters and queasiness.

“It’s alright.” Mai assures her.

“I don’t think I fit in well with this lot.”

The murmur as Mai leads her past them and she finds herself sticking close to the woman.

“Hi, Mai.” The Fire Lord greets.

“Zuko.” Mai returns the greeting.

“Who is this?”

“Just call her Snapdragon. You’ll understand if you talk to her more.” She pauses. “She wanted to see the palace so I’m giving her the tour and taking her to the spa.”

“Please do.” Comments a man near the far end of the table. “She smells of industrial waste.”

“She smells like an alley dweller.”

Snapdragon stuffs her hands into her pockets and tries to focus on something else. Something like the food. She has never seen so much of it in one place. She thinks that they have everything here; teeming blows of various and colorful fruits, plump roast duck, cabbage stew, miso soup, and plenty of noodles. And it all smells so enticing--unlike her, apparently.

“If you want to take her there you can and then you can join us for dinner. She can wear one of Azula’s outfits.”

At least some jubilance returns to her. She’s going to get to taste the delightfully scented food. Not only is she going to eat lavishly but she will get to do it in comfortable robes.

“This way.” Mai beckons.

The room she finds herself in next is also amazing. The dragon reliefs jutting from the backmost wall gleam in the sunlight that pours through a wide slit on the ceiling. There are plenty of shiny things in here. Glass bottles in many shapes and sizes, golden combs and brushes, a few small sculptures, and these little polished stones that accent the corners of each table. Snapdragon looks to the left and to the right before swiping one of the empty bottles and a polished stone.

“How are you not in jail?”

“I take worthless stuff, I don’t get caught, ‘n you don’t tattle.”

“You can keep the bottle, they won’t miss that. But, remember when you told me that sometimes you find stuff that isn’t trash and so people chase you?”

She nods.

“The stones aren’t trash. They’re rare gems and you will get chased.” She swipes the gemstone back and puts it at the corner of the table. “By the palace guard.”

Snapdragon rubs the back of her head. “I’ll just keep the bottle.” She sits herself down and leans back. The chair isn’t exactly comfortable and the sink is cool on her neck. Though it becomes significantly more pleasant when the servants arrive and begin scrubbing shampoo into her hair. Yet it is still so jarring to find herself being spoiled like this. And she still has a bath waiting for her. They are surprisingly gentle when working the more matted knots out of her hair. A few times they cut the knots out entirely. They finish washing her hair and sit her up. She didn’t realize that she’d be getting a haircut.

“There were a lot of knots that we couldn’t work with.” One of the servants apologizes softly. “We’re going to cut your hair and make it even.”

She stammers out a word or two of consent and by the time that they are done with her, her head feels so much lighter.

“I’ll show you to your bath.”

She follows the girl to the bathroom and slips out of her dirty robe. Once she gets herself situated the servant offers smiles, “would you like me to?”

“Like you to what?”

The girl laughs. “Give you a scrub.” She gently rubs the soap against Snapdragon’s shoulder. “Some nobles enjoy not having to do any of the work. The princess let us soap her back and arms but preferred to do the rest herself.”

“Oh…” she replies. “I’ll do it myself.” It is one thing to lounge in the communal bath and another entirely to let someone get that touchy.”

The girl hands her the bar of soap. “When you are done with it you can hand it back.” She gestures to another girl. “And when you are ready to get out Yora has your towel ready.

Snapdragon nods. She hadn’t realized that bathing was such a complex ritual.

“Try to relax.” Yora says. “We’re here to make bath time more leisurely for you.”

She supposes that it is nice to not have to scamper around for a towel and a change of clothes. She sinks into the tub and scrubs away at her arms until the water is dirtied. They drain it and fill it again until it comes away crystal clear. A floral aroma rises in languid curls of steam and she feels herself drifting off. She ought to savor the comfort because she probably won’t get a chance like this again.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Mai calls into the room.

The reminder leaves her belly rumbling so she gestures for the towel. She wraps it around her body and Yora pats her hair dry with a second one. The first serving girl hands her the most elegant robes.

.oOo.

She looks rather lovely. Well groomed and without that layer of, Snapdragon is rather pretty. Her eyes are wide and bright. Her freckled and soft. If not for the gaps in her teeth and her gangly limbs, she could very well pass for nobility.

That is until she actually takes her seat and begins eating. She doesn’t do it with the poise that the rest of them do. In fact she is a fast eater and she doesn’t bother with silverware nor chopsticks. Not even with the soups. She makes her way through the platters eating only bits and pieces, as though she can’t decide what to eat. And Mai think that, that is just it. She has so many options that she doesn’t know which to choose. Her innocent curiosity is almost endearing. If only she had some table manners.

At last Snapdragon seems to find a favorite and focuses on a helping of roast duck.

“Very good.” She says between mouthfuls.

Mai’s face flushes for her. The woman is clearly blessed with obliviousness and with her focus entirely on enjoying her meal she is spared the weight of a roomful of judging glowers. The only other person who doesn’t openly gawk at her is Zuko, who makes an effort to look away. She guesses that he understands what it is like to be spellbound and captured by the grandeur of the palace and its spoils.

Mai taps her and Snapdragon looks up from her roast duck. “You might want to slow down, you’re going to make yourself sick.”

And the ignorance is gone. Her face flushes. “They’re all staring at me.”

Mai grimaces. “Yeah. That too.”

She has to admire the woman’s resilience. She finishes her roast duck and a bowl of miso soup in spite of the disgusted stares. She helps herself to a small dessert as well--a bite or two of mochi--before setting it down.

.oOo.

Snapdragon leans back in her chair. She doesn’t think that she has ever been this full in her life. She certainly didn’t realize that being so full could ache like being completely empty. Though it is a much different kind of ache. A more sluggish, heavy ache. She supposes that it beats the painful, yearning kind.

“You feel nauseous, don’t you?” Mai rolls her eyes. “I told you to slow down.”

“I never get this much at Mohi’s place. I wanted to try…”

“A bit of everything.” Mai nods. “I can bring you back here again, you know.”

She surveys the table. Many of the nobles are pushing in their chairs and shooting her begrudging parting glances. “Do you think that’sa good idea?”

Mai shrugs. “Who cares. Honestly, I think that this place could use someone like you. It wouldn’t be so dull and uptight if everyone here wasn’t so…”

“If they didn’t act like someone shoved a prickly pear up their...”

Mai chuckles before cutting her off. “I was going to say rigid. But, yeah, that too.”

Snapdragon folds her arms across her chest.

“You got some sauce on your face.” She dabs at the corner of the woman’s mouth. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I can’t stay here. Mohi gets worried. She ain’t say it but I know she does.”

“Alright, I’ll let Zuko know that I’m taking you home.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t recommend that. Jus’ let me go, the streets ‘round Mohi’s ain’t nice at night.”

“Then I’ll tell Zuko to loan you a pellinquin.”

“I can walk by myself, I’m used to it. One time I took down three muggers, I only got one black eye and my nose was really swollen and…”

“I’ll also bring a few guards along.”

.oOo.

“Are you sure that you want to leave? If you want you can stay in the palace with Mai.” Zuko offers.

“I’m sure.” Snapdragon nods. “I like being in my nest.”

“Your nest?”

“Don’t get her started on that, Zuko.”

“It isn’t any trouble. I think that it would be nice to have you around a little longer.”

“Uh...no thanks.” Snapdragon murmurs. “I’ll come back with Mai some time.”

“The nobles were making you uncomfortable, weren’t they? They’re usually not around.”

“I don’t think I belong in a palace.” Snapdragon says. “It’s easier out there, you know what’s goin’ on in people's heads. Nobles like to be all secretive and slick. That’s what Mohi says. In the streets you get punched in the face and then you know who to look out for. You never know who hates you in a place like this.” She takes a breath. “I mean I do ‘cause I guess that I’m such a freak that they couldn’t hide how they felt.”

“You’re not a freak, Snapdragon.” Mai sighs. “All of these people have decades of etiquette training. Do you know how hard they drill this stuff into your head? If you ask me, that’s what’s freaky.”

“Did they drill it into your head?”

Mai sighs, “why do you think I’m so…” she gives Zuko a pointed stare. “Blah.”

“You ain’t blah.”

“Thanks.” She mutters. “Can you loan us that pellinquin now, Zuko.”

He inhales sharply. “I’ll get a few guards to accompany you.”

“Do you want to come back here some time?” Mai askes. “Or have you been traumatized.”

“I don’t really like the folks here but…” She holds a hand to her tummy, “the food is great and,” she runs her fingers through her hair, “it’s nice to be all clean. Jasmine smells nice.”

“How about this, I’ll tomorrow I’ll meet you at the factory and I can teach you some palace etiquette.”

“I still wanna be in my nest.”

“We can converse in the palace gardens and in your factory. Don’t you want to explore a new place.”

Snapdragon nods.

Mai takes just a moment to wonder just what she is getting herself into. But, Agni, the woman had been so delighted when she stepped into the palace. She supposes that Snapdragon will be worth the hassle of...of dealing with Snapdragon. Mai’s lips quirk up into a slight smile. “Alright, let’s get you back to Mohi’s.”

[walteinsamkeit]

Home

Alright, here it finally is. I worked on this for half a year and I’m happy with how it turned out. It’s a little fic told from Hosea’s point of view taking place during the days before the gang, when it was just Dutch, Arthur and him. Plenty of love, tenderness and Vandermatthews. I hope that whoever reads this will enjoy it! Summary: Before there was the Van der Linde gang, there was a family.  Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 5048 Characters: Hosea Matthews, Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan Warnings: None

The day was beginning to wind down when Hosea found himself on the road back home, swept past the fields of the Heartlands with the lingering warmth of a watery sunset on his back. Twilight was laid out on the horizon in velvety pastels, dripping like soft watercolors between the pines and over the distant mountaintops, soaking the world in evening blue.

Home, for a while now, had been a little cabin near Strawberry. Two bedrooms and a living space, not much more; they had found it abandoned one day while looking for shelter and decided to settle in for the time being, needing a place to stay for a while. That had everything to do with the boy they had taken in recently. Arthur was his name; barely seventeen years old and already bearing a lifetime of tragedy on his shoulders. His mother had died young and his father, a petty criminal, had been killed before his eyes, leaving him an orphan at age eleven.

With the addition of someone new to their odd little “family” of two came the responsibility of establishing some sort of much-needed structure in the boy’s life. It hadn’t been easy to get through to him at first, but with patience and gentle persistence they had eventually managed to lure him out of his shell.

Gaining his trust was an ongoing process, but Arthur’s evident gratefulness made up for the occasional struggles they faced. And there were many things in the boy’s upbringing they had to catch up on. They taught him how to read and how to hunt; how to ride a horse and how to shoot a gun proper, and were pleasantly surprised to find him taking up an interest in sketching the world he saw around him in a little notebook they’d gifted him for the first birthday he spent with them.

Additionally, they too found themselves learning plenty new things through caring for him. They took turns in taking care of the household and heading out to provide for them. It wasn’t as easy as they had premeditated, requiring plenty of mental gymnastics to make things work out sometimes, and they didn’t have much, but these were happy times. He came to realize this every day again when he watched Dutch and Arthur go about their day, unaware of his loving gaze, and thought about how lucky he was to have been blessed with something so good and true without as much as ever having asked for it.

It wasn’t long before a small, unassuming little house came into sight between the trees in the distance. The lights behind the windows glowed warm and welcoming as he turned away from the road and let his horse trot up to the front porch.

It was a small house, Hosea thought to himself as he neared the cabin; but it was a good house - their house. A house he shared with the two people he considered his only family in this world. Two people that he would, always and unconditionally, love for the rest of his life.

He hitched his horse out front and gave her a pat on the neck along with some hay before turning to head inside.

“Hello, boy.”

Arthur looked up from his book at the sound of his voice, meeting his gaze across the room with the usual inscrutable expression.

“Hello sir.”

Closing the door behind himself to shut out the cold Hosea glanced around the room, sniffing out the hearty smell of supper, and finding it simmering on the stove.

“Is that yours?” He asked in surprise, wandering over to check on the pots on the fire.

Arthur shook his head. “Dutch is cooking...”

“What? Poison?”

“I heard that, Hosea.”

Dutch emerged from the backroom with a can of peas in his hand and a grin on his face. They shared a fond look that lasted a couple seconds until Dutch spoke up again.

“You’re back.”

“In one piece,” Hosea confirmed with a nod, turning to face him.

“How was it?”

“Ah, same old, same old. They never suspect a thing until you’re long gone. I was halfway back down the road towards Valentine by the time they realized what’d happened, as per usual.” He watched as Dutch made his way over to the stove, opening up the can and adding the contents to what appeared to be a pot of stew.

“Oh, I know it,” he said, giving the thing a thorough stir. “Those folks are so easy to steal from. One would feel guilty for not helping them get rid of some of that extra weight they’re carrying in their pockets.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Hosea agreed with a chuckle, turning away to head over to the table.

“Arthur here shot his first deer today,” Dutch announced with an almost motherly hint of pride in his voice as he focused his attention on the food cooking on the furnace again.

“Really now?” Taking his gun belt and satchel off he set it down on the table, opening it up to rummage through its contents. Starting to bring out the stacks of dollar bills he had procured, he leafed through them before neatly organizing them on the table top, straightening them out.

“How did that go for you, son?”

“Just fine I guess,” Arthur answered, his finger pausing along the lines of his book as he looked up from the page again, swiftly meeting Hosea’s gaze with those gentle blue eyes. “Dutch said hunting would be a good way to contribute to the household. Would take some weight off your shoulders too if I’d try taking care of the food. Or the part of finding it, at least.”

“Right, I see. That is a great idea. So, that is what you’re suddenly going all out for, hm? Dutch?” He shot him a glance from the corner of his eye, amused. “Soon enough we’ll have a real kitchen princess on our hands.”

“Do I hear a complaint?”

“No, no, I don’t think so.” Hosea shook his head with a chuckle.

Dutch paused for a moment, completely absorbed with his tireless perfectionism; then spoke again.

“I figured I might as well. I was getting sick of all the bland, tasteless grub we’ve been living off of, so I’m broadening my horizons a little. Besides, it’s a special occasion, ain’t it? You’ll always remember your first deer. I do.” He shrugged nonchalantly, glancing back over his shoulder. “Son, will you go and set the table? Dinner’s almost ready.”

With a creak of his chair Arthur rose to his feet, setting his book aside and heading over to the cabinet to bring out the plates.

As he passed him by Hosea couldn’t help but reach out and pat him on the shoulder encouragingly, earning him a smile that was little more than a faint curve to the corner of his lips, but it was honest.

It was good to see how Arthur had steadily been beginning to show more of himself lately in the care of Dutch and him. They did their best to offer him what they could - that not being a simple task in their case. A couple of outlaws trying to raise a boy together. The two of them being men, at that. But they got by. They made do with what they had and made up for what they didn’t in support and attention.

“And?” Dutch’s voice interrupted his train of thought as the younger man appeared at his sides with his hands on his hips. Curiously, he picked up one of the wads of cash, leafing the bills through his fingers just like Hosea had done moments earlier.

“Around a couple hundred dollars, I’d say. Maybe more. A pretty good catch. More than I expected to get out of this, frankly. I didn’t even try too hard.” Setting his satchel aside he gathered the money, taking back the banknotes that Dutch handed him, and moving them out of the way to make room for their plates and cups. “Either we’re getting smarter or they’re getting dumber.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dutch stated, moving to the kitchen to take the stew off the cooktop and carry it over to the dinner table. “To the victor the spoils, Hosea. What matters is that we’re still pulling it off. Now, take off your coat and have a seat. It’s been a long day. I bet we’re all hungry.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he nodded, shrugging off his coat and pulling out a chair to sit down across from Arthur, who’d already settled in his place again, moving his cutlery around while he waited.

“Of course I’m right,” Dutch said, with that smug grin of his that Hosea couldn’t help but shake his head at in amusement as he watched him dish out their food.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pursing his lips. “Of course you are. How could I forget? You’re as stubborn as a woman, Dutch van der Linde.”

“You best be careful now, mister Matthews,” he pointed at him with the ladle, raising a brow. “You’d be ill-advised to antagonize me now that I’m learning how to cook something half decent.”

“You wouldn’t kill me.”

“I might. Ain’t made up my mind quite yet. Night is still young. Would you like some tea?”

“Chamomile, if we’ve got any.”

“Me too, Dutch. Please,” Arthur spoke up, seemingly almost embarrassed by his request, nudging his empty mug. Hosea and Dutch - they shared a subtle glance across the table without a word.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’ll get some too, son. Don’t worry, we’re not forgetting about you. Ain’t nobody gonna forget about you no more,” Dutch gently reassured him, turning around to head back over to the stovetop and fetch their steaming tea kettle, adding some chamomile flowers from a fresh-picked bunch hung to dry before returning to the table with it.

“Thank you. I could really use a cup. Been looking forward to one all afternoon.” Hosea ran a hand through his hair, scooting his chair a little closer to the table before picking up his spoon. “So, apart from cooking, what have you been up to?”

“The usual.” Dutch nudged at a piece of venison on his plate with scrutinizing stare, not entirely pleased with the outcome, or so Hosea deducted. It was hard to please Dutch, even when you were Dutch.

“Is that so... No trouble, I hope?” He quipped, sending a wink over to Arthur across the table, who answered with a little smile.

“Without you? You know me better than that, dear friend. Now eat up, before it goes cold.”

“Right. Arthur - will you say Grace for us? You’re the one who brought home the food today,” he offered.

A silence followed. The young man was visibly taken aback a little by the request for a good few moments, blinking long lashes under the golden light, his lips parted in mute confusion.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t feel comfortable. One of us can do it,” Hosea added.

“No, sir, I’d like to. I just... I don’t think I’m any good at that kinda thing.”

“You’ve heard us do it plenty times before. You’ll be just fine, I know it.” Dutch reached out to put his hand over Arthur’s, giving it a slight pat. “Go ahead. No need to be shy.”

Locking gazes with Hosea again, Arthur raised his brows, as if looking for some kind of permission, or perhaps, for reassurance.

Hosea only nodded.

“Go ahead, son.”

At that, Arthur scooted forward in his chair, clearing his throat, just a tad nervous. The boy hadn’t been exactly raised religious by his late father, and although neither of them cared particularly about religion, they had wanted to do right by him. To instill some morals and values in the young man they took under their wings, if only symbolically so. To teach him to be thankful and humble. And so far, Hosea thought they were doing a wonderful job.

“Alright, well...” He started, a little hesitant as he looked down at his plate, gingerly folding his hands against the edge of the table. “Father, thank You for, uh... For providing, for us. And for the warmth of the sun and the refreshment of water. And for all other things good. Like... The Fall, and the harvest. And the blessing of food with loved ones. Thank you, Lord. Amen.”

“That’s it. Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Dutch smiled at him.

“Nicely done, Arthur.” Hosea reached over to pick up the kettle, pouring all of them a steaming cup of tea. “Well, let’s eat then. Enjoy your meal.”

“Likewise,” Dutch added before he began to eat.

“And you,” Arthur mumbled, digging into his stew.

For a fleeting moment Hosea couldn’t help but watch him; observe that perpetual childish innocence in him that guided every clumsy movement, limbs too long for his torso, too old to be a boy and too young to be a man - he was balancing on the ever-awkward line right in between, where everything changes overnight and yet remains the same in many other ways. He looked almost out of place sitting at a table and eating from a plate and drinking from a cup. In such stark contrast to Dutch’s poise, Dutch’s straight posture; his sharp tongue and even sharper gaze and the purpose in his every movement.

They weren’t so far apart in age. His partner was twenty-four now. He had six years on Arthur and yet Hosea could barely begin to imagine Dutch as anything other than what he was and had been ever since the day they first met along the road to Chicago. Strong and determined and idealistic, and as much a father figure to Arthur as he was. Of course, he had grown. He was more responsible now; a little more down-to-earth than he had been back then - a tireless dreamer with his head up in the clouds.

But deep down, he was still the same. In him, Hosea could still see that boy, not yet quite a man even if he had come off age. A stargazer. A philosopher. A lover.

For a while they sat and ate in silence, quietly content in the warmth and the safety of their simple home, the sound of the wind whispering through the high grass and the trees outside, and the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth.

It wasn’t quite like the camps Dutch and him used to set up when they moved around. They’d sleep under the stars and wash up in the river and cook dinner over the campfire, and when a new wind rose, they packed up what little possessions they had and followed it down to where it would lead them.

First and foremost, the two of them were opportunists who lived off luck. There was artistry in their craft; a kind of poetry in the way they went about executing their plans. Crime was an art. And Dutch; a virtuoso. The young man with the sun tucked away in his chest - he spoke of wonderful things; freedom, liberty, love. His dreams and his wishes and the beliefs he cherished despite being told he was nothing but a delusional fool.

For hours Hosea could listen to that honeyed voice spilling whispers in the halflight, like secrets meant for his ears only, about a vision of the future where they would have the world. And he let himself be swept away by the sweet promises willingly.

When Dutch was good he was great, and when he was great he was a small calamity; a one-man forest fire that would stop at nothing in its path, and burn all throughout the night and well into the morning. His passion and his idealism; the romance and the beauty he saw in everything wherever he went - it had managed to captivate him years ago and never let him go.

Dutch van der Linde, with his eyes of brandy; crowned with soft, shiny whorls of black hair framing his face. He must have been the embodiment of every mother’s cautionary tale.

“What’s on your mind, Hosea?” Dutch broke the silence after a while, observing him calmly from his side of the table. Nothing ever went by him unnoticed.

Hosea just shook his head along with a slight shrug. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I was just... Thinking.”

His words were met by an inquisitive tilt of his head.

Leaning back into his chair, he looked at the scene before him, keeping quiet for a moment - the three of them at the table together - an unconventional little family, but a good one. A warm one. A loving one.

“I’m... Happy,” he then finally decided with a nod, meeting Dutch’s gaze once again.

The other man smiled, slowly looking down at his plate as he thought for a moment before giving his answer. “I’m happy, too.”

Reaching under the table, Hosea gently nudged at Dutch’s hand, and the other answered his touch as if by instinct, their fingers tangling together with a soft squeeze for just a moment.

“Arthur, would you like some more stew?” Dutch then asked, casually, leaning over to stir the pot with his free hand. “We still got some left.”

“No sir, thank you - I’m full.” He politely declined, shaking his head as he dropped his hands into his lap and sat back. “I think I may just... Hit the hay early tonight. I’m beat.”

“You worked hard today. You just see what you do.” He began to rise to his feet, reaching to collect their empty plates, but Hosea was quicker.

“Let me take care of that, Dutch. You both done did enough for today. Sit a while,” he assured him, gently putting his hand over the one that was already holding onto the plate.

“I got it. Leave it to me.”

Dutch stared back at him in surprise a moment, and then finally relented, pulling back.

“Alright. Arthur, shall you and I play a game of dominoes before you head off to bed, then?”

The boy looked up, seemingly hesitating for a moment as he uneasily rubbed the back of his neck.

“I don’t know, Dutch... I’d love to, but… Games ain’t exactly my strong suit.”

“Then I’ll help you. C’mon, get the box out. Where did we put it away last time?”

Hosea watched as the two began rummaging through the room together, finally locating the box in the bookcase, and as they set up to play their game of dominoes, Hosea rolled up his sleeves and got to cleaning the dishes gathered in the sink.

It wasn’t much work, and he had the pleasure of being able to listen in on the brown noise of their conversation in the background. As they sat around the table, and played, and drank the remainder of their tea, he couldn’t help but glance back at them over his shoulder occasionally, smiling at the sight; Dutch’s patience with Arthur and the joy he managed to inspire in him with his words of encouragement - that boy was gonna be just fine, Hosea mused while calmly humming a song under his breath.

As long as they were together, he would always have someone to talk to and a shoulder to lean on. A place to call home.

Once the cleaning had been taken care of - the dishes returned to their cabinets and the cutlery to its drawer - he rejoined them at the table, picking up the book he had been reading in the past week or so: John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty, which Dutch, vocally passionate about the work, had borrowed to him upon completing his own reading of it.

Evenings like these, where all three of them were together - they always passed so swiftly and could never last long enough for him. Domestic and unhurried, they idly spent their time on the simple little pleasures that were card games or warm cups of coffee. Especially now that Fall had arrived, and the days were swiftly growing longer and darker, they found themselves staying in much more frequently than they did during the summer months, seeking out each other’s company on cold and rainy evenings. It was a simple comfort, having a home to return to at the end of a hard day’s work, and the sight of it in the distance - of that peaceful little cabin quietly slumbering between the trees - it never failed to fill him with a profound sense of satisfaction and a heartfelt happiness.

The warm touch of a hand placing itself upon his knee drew his attention, and he looked up, gaze fixing on the man seated closest to him.

He sat twisted in his chair and faced him with those big brown eyes of his - unarguably, the greatest source of warmth in the room; even when the fire burned bright and the oil lamps glowed warm and golden, it was his gaze that seemed to chase any kind of darkness away.

“Don’t forget about your tea, ‘Sea. It’ll go cold.”

In the rosy light he looked like a Renaissance painting - a Botticelli angel with life breathed into him by God Himself; the way soft curls fell forward over his ears and framed his face without pomade to keep them fixed securely in place, and for a moment he was completely lost in the sight of him, until, in the background, Arthur began to rise to his feet, and his spell was broken.

“Are you going to bed?”

“I think so,” he yawned, slowly stretching out before running a hand through his tousled hair. “Can’t keep my eyes open any longer.”

“Well, hunting isn’t light work. Go get some rest, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Alright. I’ll be turning in for the night then, I guess; goodnight, Hosea - Dutch, you too...” And with a little nod of his head he turned around and began heading for his bedroom, pushing his suspenders off of his shoulders with a sigh.

From his peripheral vision, Hosea noticed how Arthur attempted to cast a subtle but lingering glance back over his shoulder at the two men remaining in the room together, the slightest quirk to his brow - the way dogs do when trying to make sense of one thing or another. Then he vanished into his bedroom, and closed the door behind himself.

Of course, Hosea thought to himself amused, barely managing to suppress a snort as he picked up his cup and drank the last of his lukewarm tea. The boy wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to pretend he was. He must have realized at some point; must have noticed by now that there was something profound between the two of them that ran deeper than any devoted friendship he’d ever witnessed before, or the sincere love between brothers. Something enduring and true that Hosea himself in all those years had not quite managed to find the words for.

And Arthur - he never mentioned or questioned anything. Perhaps he simply didn’t care, or, perhaps, he understood. Falling for Dutch the way Hosea had - it wasn’t a choice he had made; it was something that had simply happened to him. To deny it would have meant to lie to his own heart. But nothing good had ever come from refusing to face the truth. Hosea loved him. He loved him, and nothing the world could have told him would have stopped him from doing so.

Falling in love with Dutch had never been a choice. But loving him was. And if life would be kind enough, he wished to do so for the rest of his days.

For a short while after Arthur had left them, there was just the distinct rustle of him rummaging around as he prepared for bed. Then the room went quiet, and silence settled over the peaceful little cottage once more.

Outside the moon had begun to rise over the open fields that stretched out for miles and miles, and the silvery grass whispered in the evening breeze that had picked up, rustling through the leaves on the trees that had begun to take on the color of a hundred blazing shades of auburn. It stirred the flames in the hearth, humming low in the chimney - a bourdon note that reminded him of the childhood he spent far up in the mountains - the way the wind hummed him to sleep, howling among the snow-covered peaks while he slept safe and warm through many a winter storm.

Hosea glanced aside at Dutch, who sat staring pensively into the fire, comfortably curled in his chair. His breathing was low; chest rising and falling steadily as he pensively drew his thumb across his bottom lip, and he could tell by his slow, languid blinking; the way his dark lashes fell upon his cheeks, and lingered just long enough to betray a sleepy innocence in the otherwise so alert young man, that the glowing warmth and the satisfaction of a full stomach had began to make him drowsy.

He couldn’t help but smile, his heart softening at the sight of his lover, unaware of his admiring gaze. It wasn’t often he managed to catch Dutch in a moment of vulnerable unawareness. These moments were like sunrises to him; something to be enjoyed in silence, delightful in their fleetingness.

At times, he wished he could draw like their Athur could; wished he could capture these divine moments and preserve them before they would be gone forever - passing in the blink of an eye. Luckily, he had a good memory. It was hardly a challenge to call the sight of him to mind. He knew every curve and every edge of his form. The healthy glow of pink on his cheekbones, the color of a blushing dawn; the shimmer of gold on his collarbones when the sunlight kissed his skin damp from working; the sable curls of his hair splayed out on his pillow, spread around his head like an aureole as the night faded into morning.

Only after a long moment of quietly observing him did Hosea finally move, leaning over as he reached out a hand, and lightly brushed his knuckles over his cheek, up to his temple. The caress stirred Dutch awake from his drowse, and he raised up his head as he blinked into the halflight of the room before casting a questioning glance aside at Hosea. He answered with a smile and a shallow shake of his head to let him know everything was alright without breaking the silence between them. That he would let no harm befall him as long as they were together and he was around to watch over him.

It was a promise he’d made him years ago - Dutch, young and anxious, and wary of a future filled with uncertainties and trouble along the way. The world did not look kindly upon people like them, and their love had been, perhaps, a lifetime too early. What if they would drift apart? What if flaws and insecurities would drive a rift between them? What if, one day, they would no longer love each other?

He had kissed him on the head, and drawn him into his embrace as he soothingly spoke to him.

“It’s us together against the world, Dutch. Not us against each other. Don’t you ever forget that.”

And just like he had then, Dutch now reached up to take hold of the hand that rested on his cheek, and pressed it against the side of his face in affection for a few seconds.

“You think too much. Stop worrying about the things that you can’t change,” he had said to him. “Stop living in the past and being afraid of the future. It’s coming, whether you want it or not. That mind of yours… It’s always been your own worst enemy...”

“That is the trouble, Hosea,” he answered, heaving a weary sigh. “Sometimes it’s all the thinking I’ve got available to me. It’s the only thing I can’t run from...”

“Then for the love of God, Dutch - stop trying. Only a fool keeps looking for solutions in the same place he’s previously failed to find any.”

“Are you tired…?” He spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper as their hands, still intertwined, slowly fell down to bridge the space between their seats. The other man hummed in response and shook his head, then answered.

“Just a little.”

“You should get some sleep then. It’s late. You’ve done a lot of work. Tomorrow’s a fine new day...”

”What about you?” Dutch’s head tipped to the side and studied him sleepily from the corners of his eyes. “Aren’t you tired?”

Hosea smiled softly before averting his gaze, pausing a moment before speaking up again.

“I’ll just have a smoke and join you. Scamming folks all day isn’t easy work. The old gray mare ain’t what she used to be.”

“Oh, stop it,” Dutch huffed with a frown as he rose out of his seat and took a step towards him, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head while lovingly combing his fingers through the blonde hair of his lover.

“You’re as sharp and artful as ever.”

“And you’re still just as easy to get a rise out of, my love,” he replied amusedly, gazing up at him with a smirk as Dutch pulled away yawning and began heading over to their bedroom, dismissing him with the wave of a hand.

Hosea watched him walk off with a soft smile before he slowly closed his book and got to his feet to go and fetch his cigarettes, a sigh escaping him.

Yes, it wasn’t much, Hosea thought to himself as he looked around the room while lighting a smoke. The shadows that the dying fire cast quivering on the walls drew his attention to their few belongings lying about; a quiet proof that his loved ones were here, safe and sleeping, and that whatever the future would bring them, tonight was peaceful.

Their house wasn’t big, and neither was their family. But it was good. It was sincere, and warm and loving.

And most importantly, it was theirs.

[diamondsableye]

“Can I practice my crafting skill again?”  Pale inquired from underneath the large classroom table, the interior shadowed by a mass of sheets having been draped around the rectangular surface like a veil punctuating the distinction from a temple’s inner and outer sanctums. 

“Mmm... Roll to see how much you can improve it.” Stated Grimm after a brief moment of thought, passing the multi sided die to his classmate.  The quartet had managed to sneak out one of their teachers emergency flashlights and were using it to illuminate their mishmash of character sheets, crudely constructed miniatures, and an extremely basic game map decorated with cardboard structures and held together by scotch tape and crayon scribbles.

Pale let the plastic decider of fate slip from his fingers and roll onto the game board, careful to make sure that it wouldn’t collide with his kingdom under construction.  The four souls watched with baited breath as the die spinned and swirled, ultimately landing unceremoniously with a large 5 displayed on its upturned face.

“Aw darn are you serious?  That’s my third low roll in a row!”  The upset juvenile wined, before snatching up the die in his small greedy digits to inspect a cause for his loss.  Marvelously, the die refused to reveal its secrets, and stubbornly let the child stew in his own frustrated bad luck.

“Haha!  Oh man Pale, at this rate you’ll never stop your kingdom from collapsing!  I’m gonna win the gaaammmeee~!  I’m gonna win the gaaammmeee~!”  Jeered Radiance, taking her sweet time to rub in Pale’s foul luck with her annoying sing song taunts.  The boy’s white chitin near instantly flushed scarlet from his friend’s teasings, his mood soured by the moth’s playful gloating.

“Shuddup shuddup!  Once I improve my skill enough you are so going down!”  Pale barked with a newfound competitive rage boiling inside him, more determined than ever to take down the fluffy pest.

“Nuh uh!  You’ve got no chance.  Besides, it’s your fault for taking over my village tribe anyhow.  Why couldn’t you have just beaten up Grimm’s dumb troupe?”  She inquired with a raise of her eye, the harsh judgement of her look not lost on her fair companion who solemnly shivered and shrunk back at the snarky attack.  As soon as the boy had backed off from his haughtiness, Grimm suddenly barked back up with a fever of his own, not as used to the jagged back and forth as his friend was.  With an insulted glare, he joined in on the aggravated spit, ready to stand up for his beloved world.

“Hey!  It’s not dumb!  It’s a-”

“-Dark nightmare cult and all with nightmares and stuff, we get it.  You have a bard as your right hand man.  Sooooo lameeeee”  Radiance cut off the batty bug with a quick, dismissive sway of a wing, shutting down Grimm’s meager defense before he even had the chance to mount it.  His own face flushed an even deeper crimson than his angrily beaming eyes, burning hotter than the dark fire he knew was raging inside his poor defiant soul.

“Hey don’t make fun of Brumm!  He’s my friend’s character, and he’s perfectly awesome as is.”  He stated almost matter of factly through his growl of a response, quick to stand up for the currently not present Nymm.  It was one thing if himself was being fussed at, but he would not let the moth so criminally down-trod his dear companion.

“Mm whatever you say.”  She mused out of boredom, waiting for Pale’s still prolonged turn to be finished up.  With all the wait this game seemed to love making her endure, sometimes she just needed to rile the boys up for a bit of entertainment.  They always managed to be so easily pestered it was almost too rewarding.

“I.. Still don’t understand why you need to improve your crafting stat so much... We already have our own knights, why do we need more?”  The quiet juniper suddenly peeped up from the quieting uproar as if to quell the currently dwindling stream of advancing insults and tauntings. She looked up with a puzzled look as she mindlessly toyed with a small figure of her own creation, its three prominent horns visible even in the relative obscurity of the dim table tent.

“Ah my Queen Lady, we need more guards cuz Raddy wants to take over Hallownest, but we can’t use our knights because of Rad’s Tell-a-path-y.  We can’t just make new characters cuz that takes too many resources, but since we don’t need character based perks, it’ll be more efficient if we just build guards instead!”  Pale mused in a surprisingly coherent ramble, considering how it was he whom had insisted the installation of saw blades at every corner for protection, and now required to perform a dexterity check each time he wished for his character to walk between rooms.  No wonder why his queen chose to stay in her own gardens most of the time.

“Yeah, if you can level up your crafting skill any” Radiance couldn’t help but snark, stifling giggles and failing horribly in her attempt to do so.  Suddenly, before another eye rolling round of crude insults could come to pass, a glum, audible sigh was heard from outside the drawn curtain of sheets, suddenly parting to reveal a highly sultry bemused arachnid.

“Ugh you dweebs.  It’s Tel-lep-a-thy, not Tell-a-path-y.”  The spider had practically groaned as she invaded the group’s sacred game space, leaving Grimm practically hissing at the sudden light as a touch of the normal classroom lighting managed to seep its way in.

“Herrah!  What are you doing in here?  Were you spying on us?”  Wailed Lady, a tremor of meek fright catching in her voice as the gang’s closely held secret had suddenly been unveiled to the outside world.

“You’re playing a game under a table with nothing but a thin sheet separating you guys from the rest of the class.  Like.  Everyone can hear you.”

“Oh.”

“Well what do you want then?  Can’t you leave us alone?”  Bemoaned Grimm, folding his pudgy cheeks in his hands like a heavy weight of boredom being supported by two pillars of barely sustained contempt.  It was obvious her mere presence was enough to put off any enjoyment he was previously having.

“Well I want to join you guys, and Hornet does too.” Herrah demanded, sneering dully to the agitated lad sitting front and center in the circle of friends and miscellaneous game pieces.  Their eyes were tensely locked together in a silent bitter clash, like a sputtering cooking pot ready to harshly steam and boil over at any moment.

“Why do you want to join us?  You have your other weird friends, and do we even have to consider your annoying little sis?  Seriously?  How does she know about our game anyways?”  Grimm drilled, attempting to interrogate the nosy arachnid.  With a huff, he shot back to sit upright again, his arms tucked into a condescending cross as he waited for her to answer him.

“Oh Pale’s younger brother is good friends with her, and he was telling her about how much fun he was having with you guys.  Simply put we’re bored and we want to do something fun.”  She puffed herself with a scowl, returning the impatient gesture mockingly.  She parted the curtain wider, forcing herself into the group of collected youngsters to cement her position for now at least.

“Aww man not Pure!  I told him to keep his mouth shut.”   Pale softly cursed under his breath, begrudging his sweet younger brother’s overly friendly nature for once.  At least Ghost still hadn’t learned how to talk yet, and Kin was unable to, sort of.  Herrah almost immediately caught the mutter and smirked to herself with a smug sense of satisfaction, she was moving into this group faster than she had imagined already.

“Well yes Pure.  He sounded so happy to let her play too, and so she wrote out some demands for how she wants to be included.”  Herrah relayed with an all too noticeable touch of cunning and snark, sure to implicate the younger sibling’s attachment as a tool to her advantage.  It would be such a shame if the kind lad was let down by his role model of an older brother after all.  Before Pale could give into his own sympathy however, Grimm suddenly interjected with a fiery snap, not allowing defeat to such an unfair intrusion just yet.

“Hold on we never said we were gonna include her, or you for that matter too!  We’re already packed full as is!” He snarled full of bitter energy, his small sharp fangs clicking together like a strike of lightning to punctuate his contempt.  This was his game after all, and he most certainly didn’t feel like sharing with a fake fan of the occult like Herrah.  He knew practically for a fact that she would ruin his whole carefully planned world if given a place in it.  The firm slap of denial rolled off her shoulders like a light mist of rain, and much to his surprise, her smile only widened with a sickening deviance.

“Well you better, otherwise I’m telling miss seeker.” She lulled softly, almost like she was singing a lighthearted tune, void of the very real threat her words held.  Upon hearing this, Grimm let out a soft gasp, his eyes partly draining in color as the implication hung over him like a heavy storm cloud.

“You wouldn’t dare you tattle-!”

“I will.”

With that, Grimm shuddered as if he was attempting to down a foul tasting medicine, practically writhing in his seat as he tried to make peace with the necessary deed of evil.  He groaned and writhed, his snakelike tail twisting and coiling as he threw a minor fit, all the while Herrah savored every moment of discomfort the young bug was performing so beautifully for her.  Finally, he breathed a deep, angered huff of a sigh, agreeing to allow her to join.

“.... okay finneeee but not cuz you told us to.  You can have a minor role.”  He groaned as if he was agreeing to help out with something awful like housework or giving up the TV to let his dad watch sports.  At least he knew he could count on Radiance to keep the mischievous spider at bay.  Herrah however, was not so satisfied with this answer.

“Well if I can only have a minor role then you gotta give Lurien and Monomon roles too.” She added, the ever present threat of her ratting out the group to their pleasant yet firm teacher Miss God Seeker still holding with every word she spoke.  The gang each stifled a collective shudder to various degrees of uncertainty, eyeing one another as Grimm continued to barter with the persistent arachnid.

“Your weird friends too?  Well... give us your snacks for the rest of this month’s break time and it’s a deal, same thing goes for those two also.” Grimm haggled, he was gonna make sure that if he couldn’t keep them out, he and his friends would at least make out like kings with them joining.  Herrah pondered the new request, mulling it over in her mind for a bit before responding again.

“Maybe, but you still have to meet my sis’s requirements exactly.” She replied inconclusively.  Grimm knew that if this was going to go any farther then he’d need to see all the terms of agreement first.

“Okay Okay.. let me look them over first.” He asked with his small waiting claws outstretched.  Herrah unflinchingly handed the list over, written in a crude scrawl with red marker.  Most of it was legible enough to the youngin, and he sounded aloud the requests one by one, Herrah nodding along accordingly to every single point.

“So... Super fit and pretty, Super awesome ninja tools, Cute fluttering dress, super cool sword she can tie to invisible ninja spider silk ropes... Oh hrm...well she can’t be a princess.” Grimm finished disconcertingly, the hesitation palpable enough to be cut through.  He exchanged a nervous glance to the “royal couple” and watched as the queen returned a sour look and subtly scooted even closer to Pale in her seat.

“...Excuse me?”  Herrah questioned with a harsh bite of scrutiny, the broiling vitriol just barely contained within her tightened throat.  She glared to the boy fumbling with the childish manuscript, her eyes demanding explanation.

“She can’t.  Pale is the only king currently and-”

“And I’m already the queen!” Lady cut off with a possessive wine, wrapping her arms tightly around her kid crush, returning the spider’s gaze with a too cute to be serious pout.

“Okay I don’t have to be the queen whatever, I just want my own space like she does, and it’s not fair she is the only one with royal heirs.” Herrah bemoaned to the Castles and Keepers Master, before turning her attention to the wimpy King.  ”If you and lady can pretend your younger bros are your princes, then I’m sure it wouldn’t take much for you to pretend my younger sis is your princess.”

“Oh come on, my mom forced me to let them play too after finding out I didn’t want them to join in and ruin everything.  Your little sis doesn’t need to be royalty too!”  Pale returned with a half groan half whine, he didn’t want to have to share his perfect kingdom with yet another younger kid.  Herrah listened to his grievance uncaringly as she rolled her eyes to his meaningless complaint.

“But if you didn’t want them to be royal then why couldn’t you have just-”

“Because me n Pale are gonna get married one day so I gotta practice being a mamma!  Pale would never marry a  weird girl like you!  Girls aren’t supposed to like creepy crawlies, especially spiders!  Everyone else calls you a beast for a reason!”  The petite sapling let out with a jealous squeal, quick to defame the intruding girl in any way possible.  As she wrapped herself even tighter against the young bug, the humored arachnid couldn’t help but try and hide an entertained grin.  Lady was sure one to talk for one Herrah knew how to fuss all too well.

“Oh I’m sorry, I forgot you screamed and wet your pants the day I brought Miss fuzzy to class!  Miss scaredy Lady!”  She shot back with a malicious smirk, teasing the small tree in nearly the same tone as the moth used to stir up trouble.  Instantly Lady’s eyes sparked with an aggravated jolt of color, huffing frustratedly as the taunt instantly managed to bury under her branches.

“Meanie!  You tried to put her on my head!” She cried back, her eyes growing glossy and damp from her rage and embarrassment.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Enough!!  Whatever sure you can have your character and Hornet can too and she can even be a ninja princess whatever too.  Give us your snacks for the next month now and I’ll let your friends also get roles, but say anything to Miss Seeker and I’ll undo all of that!” With a sudden snap, Grimm broke through the bickering before either had the chance to start screaming, more than ready to meet any demand as long as it would bring the toneless cacophony to a standstill.  Both girls backed off, Herrah with a proud, gratified smile and lady with a sniffle and a wipe of her eyes, which was quickly fixed with a hug from Pale.

“Only for the next week, no way I’ll give for a month.” Concluded Herrah, seemingly more than willing to negotiate now that she knew a position within their game was all but secured.  Grimm pondered it, humming to himself with his eyes closed in thought, snapping to attention once he believed to have mulled it over enough.

“Fine then, for the next two weeks?”

“Deal!”

[mar04isdead]

So I’m writing a book...

I already have the chapters up on Wattpad. I decided to post it here too to expand my audience. I hope it gets the interest of people!

Freaks But Family

Maria, Favion, Kayla, Alyssa, and Immanuel have been best friends since they can remember. They were their own little family, doing everything together. They were inseparable, that is until Maria disappeared when they were ten. It hit Favion the hardest, and he stopped talking to his other friends. But a few months after Maria's disappearance, two villians came to town. And Favion was chosen by the government to exterminate them. Now, sophomore year of highschool five years later, Favion is surprised when he finds out his long lost friend, is his new math tutor. How long will it take for him to connect the dots?

This book is dedicated to four old friends of mine. Four idiots who have been my ride or die crew since preschool. I miss them a lot, and I hope wherever they are, that they are also doing what they love. These four people have inspired four characters in this book, I hope that if they ever read this book, they like what I'm doing. 

Chapter 1: The disappearances

Hi, if you're wondering who I am don't worry. I'm just here to tell a story, a story that is all over the place. Okay, so most stories start at the beginning so let's start there. But this isn't like other stories, first a history lesson.

The Aztecs, a great civilization, but their downfall was their amount of enemies and when the conquistadors came around, they had no help defending their home. But there was a certain clan that managed to escape, the Alebrije clan. They made a temple where they could escape, and they kept on living since. But after one thousand years, their line of chiefs was broken. That ended their civilization, but some escaped and kept the clan living. And it is said that there is a way to save the clan, but the new chief has to find the temple.

Alright! Time to start at part of the beginning. I'm just gonna tell you the story year by year right now. Then we can get into the real stuff.

When Maria was born, she was born in Mexico. But when she was brought home to Loganville, Georgia, her oldest cousin, Esme, was sent away. No one knows where she was sent to, and they've learned not to ask unless they wanted to be next. Her family owned a antique store, and the people next door owned a bakery where they lived above it. And that family was the Freeman family, they only had one son. Maria's parents had her over there for playdates all the time, and pretty soon three more children joined and then they formed what their parents like to call 'The Chaos gang.' 

When Maria was a year old, something happened. Something very weird happened. She was trying to reach for her favorite toy which was on a high shelf, and she was mad she couldn't reach it. What was weird was how it suddenly floated off the shelf and into her hands. But she was alone, no one could have helped her, right?

When she was two, another one of her cousins was sent away. Sam, Maria cried a lot that night. But only she noticed how when her tears fell from her eyes, they started to freeze. 

At age three, her older brother Liam was gone. She woke up on her birthday to find him gone, but her parents didn't care. Instead what they did was lock her in a room, there was no sunlight and no way out. And no matter how many times she blasted fire at the walls, nothing happened. She eventually gave up and curled herself up in a corner. She covers her eyes and starts to cry, that is until she hears hissing. She looks up and sees a spider crawling to her and a snake slither it's way over to. She tries to back away but she's trapped in the corner. She covers her face as both the spider and snake jump at her, they both bite her arms. When Maria looks at the bite marks, she feels tired, and passes out.

Age four, one eye green and the other blue and vitiligo that has gathered on her stomach and back. But pretty soon the vitiligo turned into scales, and she started to get hungry for abnormal things. One day she was helping one of her uncles make traditional goat meat, but when it was time to drain the goat of it's blood Maria found herself wondering what it would taste like. When her uncle told her to take it to her aunts so that they could make the blood into stew, she couldn't help herself. She grabbed a cup, took some of the blood from the pot and took a drink. When she went to give the blood to her aunt for the stew, the pot was less than half-way full. She couldn't wash the blood from the cup so she decided to hide the cup, she easily moved the earth to make a hole and covered it up like it never moved.

"So, what's the plan?" Alyssa looks at her friends from her place next to the cliff.

Favion shrugs, "Just jumping in and us learning how to swim."

"But we don't know how, we're five." Kayla countered.

"We're five and we don't know how to swim!" Immanuel shouts.

"Don't worry, I do! Now c'mon, i'm gonna help you swim!" Maria makes her friends hold hands before they all run off the cliff and fall into the water. 

They spent the whole afternoon, in their favorite spot learning how to swim. Maria helped them by making sure the water kept a hold on them. 

When they all went home, Maria's cousin Clarisse was sent away too. And if people were being sent away by order of age, she would be next.

Age six, instead of her being taken away, her younger cousin Yallesia was. She was with Favion in the cemetery they found in the forest. They were playing on the big sycamore tree when she brought it up.

"I don't know where they go, I ask but they don't tell me." She complains. She was still recovering from accidentally letting out so much electricity after jumping on the trampoline the other day. 

"Well, do you want to keep naming the branches?" Favion suggest. "Might take your mind off of it."

Maria nods, "Sure, I was thinking we call this one Roberto. I traced it back and it points to Mexico."

"Okay, Roberto it is." Favion pulls a marker from his pocket and writes the name on the branch.

She didn't understand, she was the oldest left so why were all the younger ones being taken away? Age seven, and no matter how many times she made the wind knock them over without them noticing, they took her twin cousins Joseph and Cameron away. How many more times, how many more times until they leave them all alone? At least she got a new baby brother, Angle, at least he wouldn't leave her.

"Dude you got a new bed? No fair I just have that twin sized one from when I was younger." Maria complained as she and her other friends jumped on Favion's bed.

"Yeah, no fair man! How come you get a new bed? You're eight just like the rest of us." Immanuel asks while throwing a pillow at Alyssa.

Favion grins, "I'm just that likable." 

Maria laughs, "Let's see if that helps you, you race you all back to the cliff."

They all take off running out of the bakery, down the block, and into the woods. Maria ends up falling behind but she beats them there. It was like she just popped out of nowhere.

"How did you beat us?" Kayla asks while gasping for breath.

Maria thought to when she reached out for her hand to tell them to wait, but instead this weird hole popped up in front of her and when she ran through and ended up at the cliff.

"Guess I'm just lucky." She shrugged.

But that luck couldn't help her when two more of her cousins were taken, Nico and Imelda, leaving her alone with just Angle for company.

"They like each other, all three of them. Why can't they see it?" Maria asked Favion as they were walking home from school. 

"I couldn't tell you, but one of them needs to get it together and they need to talk about it." He too, tired of their three friends pinning. 

Maria groaned, "The day they talk it out is the day I die! Gardening can't unstress this!" the nine year old flopped her arms around. 

"Hey, it's getting to your neck now." Favion pointed at Maria's neck, where the vitiligo has started to form patches. "Anyways, how's that garden of yours going?"

Maria smiles, "Great actually, just sprouted this really big daisy. I honestly don't know how I got it that big." Actually she did, she just thought 'Oh I want this flower to be big.' and in seconds it grew big.

By the time she did get home, Angle was gone. And once again she was alone, alone and with no one to help. Now she really felt like she was next to go.

There was a knock on Favion's window at sometime in the morning, he was too lazy to look at the clock. He looked over to his window, and there on the fire escape was his ten year old best friend, Maria, she had urgency in her eyes.

"Hey, what's up?" he ask her.

"C'mon, we're going to the tree. I really need to talk to you." Maria grabs him by the arm and pulls him out the window.

Favion tries to stop her, "Wait what if someone sees us?" He whispers.

She shakes her head as they head down the stairs, "Don't worry about that, just follow me. We don't have much time."

When they are both off the stairs they start to run down the block, but Favion notices people still on the streets.

"Wait, there are people still out here." He tries to stop Maria but she keeps running.

She looks back at him, "Don't worry about them. They can't see us." She grabs him by the arm again, "Like I said, we don't have much time." She growls.

They kept running until they arrived at the sycamore tree, "Okay, what's up?" Favion asks.

"They're sending me away next. I don't know where, they never tell. I have to go, I got away but not for long. I have to leave you guys." Maria looks like she's about to cry.

Favion shakes his head, "No, you can't leave! Where are they going to take you, we don't know where they are going to take you!"

"I know, but I can't get out of this. They're gonna start looking for me in a while. But tell the others that I am just going away to boarding school." She tries to explain.

"No, you're not leaving! You can't leave! Please, please try to stay." He hugs her and refuses to let go. 

"Hey, man? I love you, but there's just no way." She starts to cry.

They both start to cry, eventually she pries her way out of his arms and runs off into the forest. defeated, Favion goes back home, hoping that it's all a bad dream.

Maria was sent somewhere, but not where her cousins were sent. They were relocated to another part of the city, she was taken to a research center. The place was pretty empty, except for one other person, a girl her age. 

"Hi, I'm Rose! I've been here all by myself! What's your name?" The girl, Rose, asked Maria.

"Maria, nice to meet you Rose." Maria blushes. 

Maira was there for five months, and her only friend was Rose because they were the only two there. Rose was like her in a way, Maria found out that when Rose got mad vines and plants would start growing uncontrollably. She found out that Rose has been here all her life, and that she's never been outside. 

Once a week the people watching them, would give Maria a bag of blood. She didn't know why they did that, but it kept her calm. But one month they stopped giving her blood, and that went south. She usually preferred to never shift, to never do that thing where her bottom half grows into a snake tail and on her back long spider legs break through her scaled skin. It scared Rose, it scared her more when the people took Maria away and had her locked up for days. When they got Maria to calm down they gave her blood, more than they have ever given her.

Maria and Rose decided that they wanted to run away, they wanted to be free. Rose was worried about where they would go, but Maria said she could find her family. So in the middle of the night, time stopped for them. They packed their things and very easily got out, they went through a tunnel that Maria made to get them to the city. Once they were out, Maria made the tunnel collapse and they started to run. They ran until they found a large house, Maria said that that was where they needed to go. Time started again and the girls knocked on the door, hoping someone would help.

A twenty-five year old Esme didn't expect to see two ten year old girls on her doorstep in the middle of the night. She let them in and woke up the rest of her family. The girls were given food and while they ate they were asked questions.

"So, instead of sending you here they sent you to a research center? And you," Esme points at Rose, "You've been in that place your whole life?" 

Both girls nod, "Well, Maria, do you at least have your telekinesis ability? Can you shift?" Clarisse ask.

"I have telekinesis, but what's shifting?" She wonders.

"We can explain that another day, but when you were three were you bitten by an animal?" Liam questions.

Clarisse snaps her fingers, "No, they locked her up in a room. I don't know why but they did, she wasn't let out and I doubt anything could have gone in."

"Okay," Sam taps her fingers against her thigh, "She can't shift but that's okay. She still has levitation abilities. Do you have any other abilities we need to know about?"

Maria shakes her head, "No, I don't have other abilities." She lies.

"That's good, what about you Rose, do you have any abilities?" Esme wonders.

"Yeah, I can control plants." Rose responds plainly.

Esme nods, "We'll let you two finish up eating, then it's off to bed so we can start getting you both ready for school." Esme looks at her cousins, "All of you to bed, and this is your last chance if you need me to sign anything." 

During that summer, Rose and Maria were playing around the sewers. Maria managed to get them in there by making some weird wobbly portal and by thinking of where she wanted to go.

"Try to catch up!" Maria shouted to Rose.

"Stop shooting water at me! It's gross sewer water!" Rose shouts back.

Both girls laugh and keep running. Eventually they arrive at a weird door, they try to see a way in but give up.

"What if I blast it?" Maria suggests fire starting to form at her fingertips.

Rose smirks, "Do it."

Maria concentrates on the wall and tenses her hands as the fire starts to grow. She lifts her hands at the wall and relaxes her hands, letting the fire go. The wall crumbles down and rubble flies everywhere. Smoke swirls and settles and both girls look into through the door. 

"Cool." They say.

They step inside of the room, that is awfully large. One of the walls has a large computer screen, with the screen open.

"What does it say?" Rose wonders. 

"'These are people who rely on us for money. The government is corrupted and has taken everything from these people. Most of these people are single parents and need as much help as possible. There are also children who need to get out of abusive homes and out of the corrupted foster system. How you solve these things is up to you.' There's a long list of people here." Maria points out. 

Rose looks at the list, "You need to teach me to read. But I can tell that it's a lot. How long ago was this made?" 

Maria starts to read through the message. "About a week ago maybe, kind of hard to tell. What do we do about this?"

"Should we do this, should we help these people?" Rose asks.

"I mean, if these people really need our help. I always knew the government was corrupted, you know because of where we were a few weeks ago. And we have one advantage, no one would mess with kids with abilities." Maria smiles.

Rose smiles back, "I'm guessing that's a yes."

"No one will believe that eleven year old's rob banks!" Rose laughs as she helps Maria sort money.

Maria laughs with her, "No one, even if they have that so-called hero what's his name."

"It was The Liberator, kind of stupid." Rose puts a rubber band around a bundle of money. "Also funny how you used that new light bending ability to blind him for a while."

"Do you want to know what the city is calling us?" Maria asks. 

"What are they calling us?" Rose wonders.

"They're calling you Thorn and me Madness. You Thorn because of your plant work, and me Madness because I accidentally shifted and to everyone I looked insane." Maria starts laughing again.

"That reminds me, are we telling your cousin's about your shifting? We haven't been able to find you blood in weeks, we don't even know if you can drink anything other than goat blood." Rose wraps the last bundle.

Maria sighs, "I know, I want to tell them. But how will they react, I can shift into two things. That is one more than normal." Maria raises her hand in a puppeteering motion, sorting the money in their corresponding bags with the name of families. 

Rose shrugs, "Well, what if you go feral like last time? You know, that thing where you can't control anything you say or do, shift uncontrollably, and over use your powers because you couldn't get blood."

Maria nods, "Fine, I'll tell them tonight. Hopefully I can get some blood before we have to distribute tomorrow. Are we doing patrol tonight?"

Rose shakes her head, "I understand we need to help them all, but we need a break. And you really need blood."

When they get back home, it's already dinner time.

"Nice of you two to show up, we got news that the center where you were both in was closed down. Now help us set the table." Esme starts handing out things for everyone to do.

Apparently using their abilities is common, nearly everyone used their levitation ability to help set the table to get things done quickly. Imelda was levitating the lemonade pitcher, but because she was still learning, she accidentally spilled it on Maria. 

"Ahh!" Maria screams. 

Maria's body started to smoke and she felt like she was burning up. She quickly took off her shirt, revealing her scaled chest and her makings. Due to the scales, her breast don't develop, and she has several burn marks from where the lemonade hit her. That was her breaking point, her eyes started to glow red with anger and hunger. Slowly her fangs began to grow in and her legs join together and form a snake tail. From her back the ripping of skin and scales is heard as her spider legs split through her back. Her eyes turned a solid black and two more pairs appeared on her forehead and under her eyes.

Everyone is staring at her, Esme is the one who breaks the silence. "Help me get her into the dome!" 

Maria blacked out for a moment, when she woke up she was in a large dome. A glass dome, like the one she was once held in. She could see her reflection, and she also saw her family on the other side of the dome.

"Let me out!" she roars in anger. She stabs at the dome with her legs, but it doesn't break. She proceeded to use all of her abilities, and nothing happens. 

"Don't bother, great-grandmother made it. She didn't finish but it's enough, she made it for someone like you specifically." Esme explains.

Rose approaches the dome, "Maria, we are trying to get you some blood. We found a replacement for the goat's blood. You've been out for a few hours so don't worry about anything." 

Maria notices how Sam and Clarisse are levitating a huge paint tub, Maria assumes it's full of blood she can smell it through the glass. Esme opens a slot so that Clarisse and Sam can put the tub for Maria. 

Once Maria gets a hold of it, she drinks the entire thing in under five seconds. She calms down a bit but still feels hungry. It's clear how her eyes are still dull and empty. 

"Give us a second, we are trying to get more. Just focus on me, okay just focus on me." Rose talks Maria through her current state. 

"Let me out... Let me out!" Maria stabs at the glass again. After nothing happens she starts using her abilities again. She tries to make a portal, but they won't go through. She tries to make tunnels but they won't go past the dome. She tries to stop time but she can't focus enough, she's too hungry.

"We have more blood, don't ask where we got it from." Esme rushes back towards the dome, levitating another large tub of blood.

 Maria get's the tub again, and she finishes quickly like the last one. Once she's done she starts to calm down, her body slowly starts to go back to normal. Only thing that is new is the burn marks from the lemons. Maria blacks out again, whether from the exhaustion or drinking too much blood, she couldn't remember.

"This should help you control your abilities," Esme hands Maria a small circular hoop no bigger than her head. "That inner rod has a button, try it." 

Maria gets an evil grin and presses the button. The hoop folds into the rod and it becomes a three foot staff with dull blades on each end.

"That, can help with your other abilities. Might also help with the fights you and Rose have been getting into with that Liberator boy." Esme smiles and watches as Maria does some tricks with it.  "Just keep me updated with your abilities, and I can keep upgrading it to help you. I already added your new ability to the dome, you can start training soon." 

Maria looks over the hoop, "Is this as big as it gets for my portals, or does it expand?" she asks.

"Depends on what you want, just think about where you want to go like always and just think about expanding the portal." Esme explains and takes the hoop back from Maria. "You'll train with it later, it's dinner time and it's Wednesday which means you get your blood."

Maria smiles, "Great, what do I still have?" 

They both head back upstairs and to the fridge, "You have bird, fish, fox, bear, and cat. So what are you in the mood for, and make it quick before your cousins see you drinking their blood."

"I want... give me fish. I'll down some hot sauce while I'm at it, and what else is for dinner?" Maria gets a bottle of hot sauce from the pantry and gets a blood bag from Esme.

Maria tears open the bag with her teeth and drinks the blood, then she uncaps the hot sauce and downs the whole thing.

"That is disgusting, hope you still have room for enchiladas." Esme goes up stairs to get the rest of their cousins. "Oh and don't forget to open a portal for Rose, she'll be back in a minute."

Maria moves some things in the living room and opens a portal. It's wobbly and needs her constant focus to stay stable, after a few seconds Rose jumps out of the portal.

"Hey, did you find anything?" Maria helps Rose up from her spot on the ground after she closes the portal.

"Yep," Rose hands Maria some binders. "Everything they had on us, I double checked and yeah that place is pretty much abandoned."

"Okay," Maria instantly lights the binders on fire. "No they can't get to us, so we'll be safe for now.

"Hey, how's that new ability going for you?" Rose asks, dusting herself off. 

Maria shakes her head, "I can read minds very clearly, and it's a nightmare in the middle of the night, and so far I can't control anyone's mind yet. I'm trying though, might not know when we need it."

Rose puts an arm around Maria's shoulders, "We are twelve and we have committed more felonies than anyone else in this city in the past two years. Even if we don't have your mind control, we still have you reading minds that can help us knowing what the Liberator is up to." 

Maria smiles, "We have your ability too, so we just might be able to do some good in this world."

"Try it again, I know you can break it!" Rose keeps banging on the dome to encourage Maria. "Try lightning, I'm right here babe!" Rose smiles and blows a kiss to Maria.

Sam laughs, "You just made her angrier, how has she not broken up with you?" 

Maria keeps hitting at the dome with her abilities and her webbing. She recently acquired more spider abilities that she's been trying to gain control over. Rose made fun of the fact that she's now a real life spider woman.

"I can't even use my portals to punch you in the face!" Maria shouts at her girlfriend. 

Rose starts to step back, "Ummm... do we have any blood or after this to calm her down?" She questions. 

"You did this to yourself kid." Sam shrugs. 

After a few more minutes of Maria attacking the dome, Esme let's her out. As Maria walks out of the dome, she slowly has her legs sink back under her skin. She grabs a shirt from Sam and puts it on. 

"Rose, you're dead to me now." Maria shoots a piece of webbing at Rose's mouth.

Rose rips the webbing off her mouth, "You still love me." Rose makes a daisy out of thin air and gives it to Maria. 

"Are you two done, Maria we still have to see if you can control your fortune telling and telling people's past. First up is checking people's past." Esme looks at things on her clipboard. "And if your girlfriend would so happily volunteer." Esme looks over at Rose. 

"Ummm..." Rose grimaces. "I'm good, there's some stuff in there even I don't know about." 

Esme sighs, "Fine then, let's just try average fortune telling. What's going to happen in the next... five minutes let's say?"

Maria closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She tightens her eyes and tries to search for something, and she finds it. 

"Rose, don't go into the kitchen. And Sam, I see that whip cream, don't you dare try it." Maria opens her eyes and points at Sam.

Sam slowly puts the whip cream bottle back on the desk next to her. "Darn." She complains, monotone. 

"Wait, what happens if I go into the kitchen?" Rose asks. 

Maria just shrugs and walks away, ignoring Rose calling after her.

At age fourteen, Rose and Maria were stopped by a couple when they were on patrol. The couple just handed them a one year old baby before disappearing. They agreed that it was too dark and late to look for a proper orphanage so they took the baby home. 

"Okay, I know you two have a good relationship, but a baby! You're only fourteen!" Sam makes fun of Rose and Maia when they get home.

"No, a couple just gave him to us! Now keep it down, it took awhile to get him to sleep. Where's Esme, she's got to see what this kid can do." Maria smiles and instantly disappears. 

Sam sighs and looks at Rose, "Time travel." they both say. They head towards the basement. 

"Okay, so he has a telekinesis ability. And someone help us!" Esme shouts as soon as Sam and Rose enter the basement.

The baby is sitting up and giggling while Maria and Esme are floating in mid air. Maria is doing what looks like sitting down, while Esme looks panicked. 

Maria laughs at Esme, "This is great, this kid is as old as I was when I got my abilities." Maria then slowly drifts back down to the ground while Esme straight drops.

Esme groans with pain, "How did you do that?" She questions Maria.

Maria picks up the baby and taps the side of her head, "Mind control." She fixes the baby onto her hip, "Also I can finally make large barriers, how do you think we escaped the cops earlier."

"Well, what are we going to name him? They didn't give us a note did they?" Rose walks over to the baby and gives him a dandelion puff.

"Hey, dandelions are my thing. And he does have a name, it's Mike. He's one of us, our youngest aunt and uncle had him last year. Making him the youngest Alebrije-Gonzalez we have." Maria gives the little boy a tiny snowball to play with.

Esme smiles and takes the baby from Maria, "Well, welcome to the family little man. Let's get you some food and get you situated." 

"Freshman year of highschool. You have that new ability, and hopefully no more abilities because of what your great grandmother said, and we have finished with most things on the list." Rose points out to Maria.

Maria shakes her head, "The thing is you have never been to public school, I haven't been in five years. I once knew people here, hopefully none of them recognize me." 

 Rose nods, "Okay, just tell me what to do and what not to do." 

"No direct eye contact with the male species, no abilities, no being a teacher's pet, and sorry babe." Maria pries her hand out of Rose's. "No pda, especially since we're lesbians. We'll be reported to the principal and a lot of things can happen after that."

Rose groans, "People are annoying, we're like any other fifteen year old couple. What's so wrong about both of us being girls?" 

Maria shrugs, "People are just... weird. They just don't know people like us because they don't want to get to know us. We can try, but people might never change their minds." 

They got Esme to talk to the school and were put in all the same classes. First block was algebra, second block was biology, third was world history and then lunch, and lastly literature. The first three classes were fine but things got weird when they left for lunch. They both just sat in the courtyard under one of the trees.

"Does this look like blood, it's not that red is it?" Maria asks, showing Rose her bottled blood.

Rose tilts her head to the side, "It looks like raspberry lemonade, we should be fine. Is that all you packed?" Rose unwraps a sandwich and begins to eat.

Maria nods, "This and some crackers, but you know that this is all I need for now." 

Their lunch period is thirty minutes, and when they finished early they just decided to stay and talk. But three people walked up to them.

"Maria, Maria Alebrije-Gonzalez? It's been five years, where have you been?" Some girl ask. 

She has dark chocolate skin, and dark brown eyes. Fair golden brown curls pulled into a high ponytail. To her right another girl with dark skin and light eyes, but she has her hair in braids with a small bun on the top of her head and with dark red glasses. Behind them both is a boy, same dark skin but with darker eyes, with his hair in short waves.

"Kayla, Alyssa, Immanuel? What the heck, I haven't seen y'all in years." Maria stands up and gets pulled into a group hug.

Alyssa hit's Maria upside the head, "You leave us for five years and just show up! Favion just stopped talking to us out of nowhere, then we were pulled into something weird and you were gone."

"Dude, why'd you leave? What the heck happened, where were you?" Immanuel asks.

Maria smiles, "I was taken across town to live with my cousins, and I was homeschooled. But it's so great to y'all again." Maria brings them all in for another hug. "What happened to Favion, He was the only one who knew I left. What happened?" Maria asks when she pulls away.

"He-he just avoided us the whole time. Started working more at the bakery, and if he wasn't there he was at his internship. Remember his uncle in the FBI, Favion helps him now." Immanuel explains. 

Kayla nods, "Yeah, it's been just the three of us for all these years. And umm, we started dating. All three of us." She says nervously.

"Fuck yeah! I called it!" Maria shouts jumping up and down in excitement. "I fucking knew it, c'mere you beautiful dipshits! If Favion were here I would have just won a bet and gained forty dollars!" She pulls them all into a hug again.

"Oh, after school we're going to the cliff. You want to join, we can catch up more." Immanuel suggest.

Maria grins, "Yeah, hey can my girlfriend come along?" She points to Rose who has been waiting patiently under the tree. 

 Kayla nods, "Sure, you do remember how to get there right?"

"Yep, see y'all after school." Maria waves as her old friends leave. She walks back to the tree and sits next to Rose. "So, just wait until you see the cliff."

"I'm questioning that, but I am willing to see what happens." Rose kisses Maria's cheek.

"So that means we have to skip training and then go straight to patrol, think we can get away with it?" Maria wonders.

Rose shrugs, "Just don't tell Esme and we'll be fine to do what we want."

Right after school, Maria created a portal for them to get to the cliff. While they waited for the others, Maria explained things to Rose about how things happened when they were kids. 

"That's around the time I got my water ability, I was able to phase through things a few days after." Maria shows Rose the water from the cliff.

Rose smiles, "Y'all were kids, how did you manage to survive this?" 

"My abilities, how else did you think we made it?" Maria grins.

They hear rustling in the woods and Alyssa, Immanuel, and Kayla emerge from the trees. 

"How did you two get here first?" Alyssa asks while she sets down her bag.

Rose shrugs, "I just followed this one, you guys jumped off this cliff for fun when you were kids?" She asks in shock.

"Maria started it, she jumped first and we learned that if she jumps we jump." Kayla smiles, leaning on Alyssa. 

Maria laughs, "And I'm betting that if i jump first that you will all go in after me, or are we doing a chain reaction?"

The four friends look at each other before shouting, "Chain reaction!" 

"Alright get changed dipshits! We are jumping off of a cliff." Alyssa shouts with excitement.

Kayla and Alyssa pull Immanuel over to the side to get changed and Maria pulled Rose to another side. 

Once all of them are done changing, they all hold hands. "Maria, do the honors?" Immanuel asks.

Maria smiles, "Alright guys, I'm gonna help you swim!" Maria runs and jumps off the cliff bringing the others with her. 

At the end of the afternoon the group separates and Maria and Rose go on patrol.

"I am hoping Esme doesn't get to us on this. Your friends are pretty cool, baby you was adorable." Rose pokes Maria's cheek.

Maria pat's Rose's head, "We are totally getting grounded when we get back home. And you haven't met everyone, you still haven't met Favion." 

"And I keep hearing about him, so who was he?" Rose puts an arm around Maria while they watch a bank and record the shifts of the guards.

"I was closer to him more than the others, he was my first friend. He might be the only person who really knew me, but you are the first." Maria kisses Rose. "You're the first that I was able to trust with everything." 

Rose smiles, "Look, this bank has them change shifts every four hours. So we know stopping time drains you in minutes, so do shadows, death, lightning, and light manipulation. Oddly enough portals don't so, sewer system is right under the bank, we can teleport from under. Leave the portal open as long as we can and take as much money as possible, close it in under five minutes." 

Maria nods, "Sounds good, we hit tomorrow. I just read the schedule, everything is the same. And everyone in that building has a one hour lunch break and everything is locked up. We can hit then, tomorrow is Friday and their lunch is during our lunch."

"You stopped time and teleported into the manager's office to read the schedule didn't you?" Rose asks smugly.

"You know me so well babe!" Maria gives Rose another kiss. "And now that we have that, let's go home. Time to go get grounded, Esme is going to be real mad."

Well, the first part of the story ends here. But don't worry, there is more. This isn't even the real beginning, there is still so much to cover. Just come back when you can, I'll tell you the rest then.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Middle Ground [4]

After the debacle with the giant crab, Sakura forced the majority of the party to stay on bedrest for a week. Whenever Naruto even thought about sneaking out of bed, Sakura appeared with a wooden spoon in hand to rap him across the knuckles.

“Geez, you’re like my mom,” Naruto complained.

“I wouldn’t have raised a strange child like you,” Sakura sniffed in return.

For the first few days, Sakura took to eyeing Kisame whenever he entered the room. Her eyes followed him especially closely whenever he got too close to Naruto. But as the days went on and no one in the party turned up dead in the middle of the night, Sakura decided that Kisame’s contract hadn’t been a hoax.

As soon as Sakura declared him well enough, Naruto ran to find the old man with the boat to report about their crab exploits. Kisame tagged along, dragging the half-rotting carcass of the slain gigantic crab as proof.

However, things didn’t move as smoothly as they had hoped. The old man was more than happy to take them out to the deep water of the Sleeping Gulf. It was a small vessel, so only Naruto, Neji, and Kisame managed to squeeze in together. There, Neji cast water breathing over them. And then they dove into the waters in search of the legendary weapon that was supposed to lay in its depths. All in all, it was a solid strategy.

To Naruto’s surprise, however, there was no sparkling sign pointing a a brave hero toward this boon. Waving fingers of kelp gave way to an underwater ruin of what must have been a great city. Sprawling and cold. Offering no clues.

After the first dive, the trio showed up on the doorstep, sopping wet and covered in kelp. A snail slowly crawled its way up Naruto’s shoulder.

“Of course it’ll be hard to find. It’s a super-important weapon, right?” Sakura said in response to Naruto’s complaints. Asuma plucked the snail off Naruto’s shoulder. After glancing it over, he tossed it into the pot where dinner sat bubbling away.

“Try again tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have better luck,” Kakashi suggested. Naruto scowled as he shook the water out of his ear.

Day after day, Naruto returned just as soggy and just as empty-handed. Some days, they were ambushed by irate sea hags or eels. Whenever they returned covered in scratches or bites, Sakura just gave them a sympathetic grimace and healed them up. When she got to Kisame, Sakura did the usual routine of nagging and teasing him like she did for the others. But since her healing magic had no effect on him, they made due with playing pretend.

“What if someone notices?” Sakura asked one night as they headed out to grab more firewood from the shed in the back.

“No one could suspect you of anything. You’re Miss Perfect,” Kisame mocked.

Sakura jumped up to kick him in the rear. It wasn’t a hard blow, but it was enough to make him stumble a few steps.

“You little brat,” he growled. Throwing his wood aside, he ran after her to deal a retaliating blow.

But just a few nights later, Neji noticed something over dinner.

“Sakura, I saw Kisame limping. You’re a good enough doctor not to miss something like that, so I’m assuming that he’s trying to conceal it from you on purpose,” Neji declared.

Sakura choked on her leg of pheasant. Naruto leaned over to thump her on the back. Tenten poured her another drink and pushed it into her hand. Once Sakura’s coughing had settled somewhat, Neji spoke again.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you over dinner. Maybe I should’ve said it later.”

Sakura waved her hand. “No, no. It’s fine,” she assured him. And then her eyes flickered to Kisame. “I’ll take a look.”

She knocked on Kisame’s door a couple hours later. He rushed to hide his grimace as she barged in without waiting for his response.

“Hey! What if I was in the middle of something!” he protested, throwing his wet cloak at her. She dodged it, listening to it land in the corner with a wet thud.

Sakura rolled her eyes. she nudged his ankle with her foot and watched his face screw up.

“You sprained it,” she announced in a flat voice. She reached into her belt to pull out a length of plain cloth.

“What’re you gonna do? Strangle me?” Kisame scoffed.

“Oh, if only,” Sakura sighed. She sat down on the floor. Before Kisame could snatch his foot away, she seized it. Ignoring his pained protests, she wrapped the cloth around his foot, and then up his ankle in swift tugs. 

“Try moving it. Stupid,” Sakura challenged.

Glaring at her, Kisame slowly twisted his foot. And then an odd look crossed his face as he repeated the motion.

“That should support your ankle until it’s healed. Just don’t go too crazy,” Sakura warned as she got to her feet. She dusted off the back of her pants as she added, “I might not be able to cast healing spells on you, but I’m still a doctor... Stupid.”

Sakura paused in the doorway. She thought for a moment, and then stuck her tongue out at Kisame before she slipped out of the room.

"Oh yeah, real mature!” Kisame called after her. But still he looked down at his bandaged foot and smiled a little.

-----

One night, almost a month after Naruto had begun his search for the legendary weapon, Sakura glanced out the window. During the day, she slipped in and out of towns, offering medical help where she could. It was when she was free, later in the day, that she had the time to worry like this.

Sasuke and Tenten sat at the other end of the room, speaking in low voices as they polished their weapons.

Kakashi had found a dusty chess set hidden under the bar. He and Asuma had taken to playing each other during the quiet moments.

“They’re usually back by sundown,” Sakura remarked after a bit. She began to feel an anxious knot forming in the pit of her stomach. She set her book down, accidentally closing it before she could mark her place. She cursed softly.

Asuma glanced her way as he pushed a pawn forward two spaces. “They’re three grown men with a bunch of weapons between them. They’ll be fine,” he assured her.

“I’ll go out and see if I can track them. Sakura’s right. They shouldn’t be this late,” declared Sasuke as he got to his feet. Tenten nudged the bottle of weapons polish aside before the end of the cloak could knock it over. But just as Sasuke grabbed his bow, the front door burst open.

Naruto hobbled in, Neji half-slung across his shoulders. Kisame held Neji up on his other side. He hung back to shut the door before he hurried forward to help Neji into the nearest chair.

“I’m fine,” Neji gasped as everyone rushed to him. He waved a feeble hand to no one in particular. “I used up all my spell slots. I just need a nap.” Sakura still checked him over for any injuries. And then she moved on to Naruto, who, besides some bruising on his ribs, seemed alright too. When she glanced at Kisame, she caught him wincing, but he still waved her off.

Kakashi moved the chessboard to the side to clear the table. Asuma slipped into the kitchen to warm up the stew that had been simmering away in the cauldron. As everyone moved around setting the table, Kisame headed upstairs. His heavy feet shuffling on the old floorboards.

“You gonna wash up before dinner, big guy?” Tenten called after him.

“I’ll skip dinner. Night,” Kisame called back.

Tenten's forehead wrinkled as she turned to Sakura. Putting on a smile, Sakura squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s eat. I’ll check on him later.” 

Everyone crowded around to dig into dinner. A thick stew filled with crab and other seafood. And there was enough hearty, dark bread to sop up the broth that lingered at the bottom of the bowl. As they ate, Naruto launched into detail about the monstrosities they’d faced at the bottom of the sea. He waved his spoon around to reenact the tentacles that had grabbed onto his ankle in the murky depths.

Sakura ate quickly. She squeezed out of her seat between Tenten and Asuma, not wanting to interrupt Naruto’s tale. Slipping into the kitchen, she filled up a bowl with the stew, adding a loaf of bread and a glass of ale. She took the narrow stairs that led directly from the kitchen upstairs. It was probably a passage the staff had used when the building had still been a functioning inn.

Sakura bumped the small door open with her hip. She could feel the warm, damp air wafting out from the end of the hallway. Kisame had probably taken a bath while everyone else ate. She had no free hands to knock, so she tapped her foot against his door a couple times.There was the rustle of fabric.

“Yeah?” Kisame called.

“Open up. My hands are full,” Sakura ordered. There was a pause. And then the door swung inward.

Sakura shoved the tray into Kisame’s hands. He looked surprised as he brought it to the small desk in the corner of the room.

Sakura leaned back on her heels, letting the door shut under her weight. Kisame wore his towel draped over his head ostensibly to dry his hair. But Sakura knew better. She scowled at him as she watched him settle in the desk chair. And she continued to stare him down as he ripped off a chunk of bread and dunked it into the stew before sticking it in his mouth.

“It’s fine,” he grunted, not looking at her.

Sakura stood there, arms folded across her chest as she watched him finish his dinner. Only when he had gulped down the last bit of his drink did Sakura speak again.

“Let me look at it, you big idiot,” Sakura insisted. Kisame wiped his hands and then his mouth on his towel, which he then flung into the corner that he apparently designated for dirty laundry. He met her stare, hand pressed to his cheek. And she could see him calculating whether or not it was worth arguing with her that night. After a long moment, he let out a sigh of defeat. Sakura crossed the room to grasp his arm. She tugged his hand away from his face. He was much stronger than her. But after a moment, he relented.

“You have to be more careful than everyone else. My healing spells don’t work on you,” she scolded. She ran her fingers along his cheekbone. And then she reached into the belt slung around her waist. The little bottles inside clinked together. Kisame was surprisingly still as she searched for the right one.

“It won’t heal you. But it’ll make it hurt less,” she told him as she uncorked it. Kisame sniffed. He scowled, reaching up for it. Sakura held it just out of his grasp. His hand rested on her wrist instead.

“I keep telling you, Doc. I heal fast. Don’t worry about me,” he told her for what felt like the millionth time. And for the millionth time, Sakura retorted. “Don’t care. What kind of idiot tells a doctor not to help them?”

Kisame snickered. He flinched a little as the concoction touched the gouge on his cheek. Sakura cupped her hand over his eye to stop the medicine from running into it. His other eye swiveled to her, watching her as she worked.

“What was it this time?” she asked.

“A merrow,” Kisame grumbled.

“They’re territorial.”

“Pissy, more like,” he went on complaining. Sakura smiled a little at that. She dabbed a little soothing ointment along the cut.

“Do you think if you dealt necrotic damage to me, it would heal me?” Kisame wondered.

Sakura frowned as she considered that. She could tell from Kisame’s serious expression that he wasn’t joking. And a serious question deserved a serious answer. But she shook her head.

She pointed at herself. “I’m a cleric in the life domain. Pretty much the polar opposite of necromancy. Even if that would work, I couldn’t deal that kind of damage,” she declared.

“Shit.” Kisame sighed, rubbing his jaw. As he looked up at her again, Sakura squinted. It looked like the cut had shrunk somewhat.

“Alright. I’ll let you get some rest. Bring your own dishes down. I’m not your maid,” Sakura said, her hands resting on her hips. Kisame barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t ask you to unless I wanted you to smash my head in,” he assured her. Sakura found herself laughing too as she headed back down the stairs. Back into the kitchen.

As she peered out past the swinging doors, Sakura could see (and hear) that Naruto had moved on to some new tale. His eyes sparkled as he moved his arms and his mouth to weave his tale. Kakashi sat in the corner, feet up on the bar as he listened. Asuma plucked an idle tune on his dulcimer, playing a soft accompaniment to Naruto’s words. Sasuke leaned against the table, picking at his bread like he wasn’t listening. But he still nodded his head and smirked as Naruto spoke. And on the opposite side of the table, their backs to her, Neji and Tenten sat together. Tenten absently stroked Neji’s hand as she sat entranced by Naruto’s tale. Her shoulder leaning against Neji’s arm. 

In the firelight, all of them glowed so beautifully. Sakura lost her breath a little as she realized how happy it made her to see them sitting there. unhurt. Smiling.

She leaned against the door for a moment, just watching them. In her daze, it took her a minute to realize that Naruto had stopped talking. He was staring right at her. Slowly, heads swiveled toward her.

“There you are! You’re just in time for the best part!” Naruto called, motioning for her. Sasuke scooted over a bit to make space for her on the bench. 

Tenten held up her cup and announced, “Asuma found some wine in the back cupboard!”  Asuma continued playing as he dipped his head. 

“Is this the story about the flaming bear? You’re awful at telling it,” laughed Sakura, pushing past the door. 

“So get this. We get a letter from this dowager in the west one day,” Sakura started off as she made her way to her seat. 

-----

“Maybe we’re not bringing the right people. Sasuke, are you sure you don’t want to come?” Naruto said one day as they headed out at the crack of dawn.

Sasuke stared at him. Slowly, he lifted his hand to point at his hair, which, as usual, flickered like the flame on top of a candle.

“I’m... literally... part fire, Naruto. Why would I dive into the water?”

Naruto wrinkled his nose as he considered that. “Oh.... yeah. My bad,” he replied. 

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke leaned against the doorway. 

“Hey. Sasuke?” Naruto then asked.

“What.”

“How do you shower, then?” Naruto questioned.

“Alright! We’re off! See you, folks!” Kisame hurriedly announced. Grabbing Naruto by the collar of the shirt, he dragged the hero down the dirt path before Sasuke could roast him to a crisp.

“It’s a maze,” Neji declared when they returned that evening. He only winced a little when Sakura grasped his calf. She squinted as she examined his wound from different angles. Grumbling under her breath, she pulled on her glasses to get another look. Sasuke wandered up behind her and conjured a ball of fire into his palm for better lighting. She grunted her thanks without looking up.

“Someone messed with a sea urchin,” Sakura discerned after a while. Neji didn’t have time to respond as she grasped the end of the spine and tugged hard. He bit back what was surely a swear.

“This is poisonous. You’re lucky this didn’t hit you in a major organ,” Sakura went on. She cast an easy purification spell over him before she closed up the wound. 

“Naruto, I gotta be honest. It seems like we’re getting nowhere. Maybe we should try something else,” Tenten suggested, her hand in her cheek. 

“Aw, come on. We almost got it,” Naruto whined, leaning back in his chair. 

“No, we don’t,” Kisame and Neji both snapped in response. 

Naruto lurched forward, front two legs of his chair hitting the floor. He scowled at them. “Fine! What do you brainiacs suggest?” 

“You say that like it’s an insult and not a sad commentary on your lack of thinking,” mumbled Sasuke. Naruto ignored him as he looked around the room.

“Well? Kakashi? Anyone?”

Kakashi gestured toward Sakura, who was finishing up slapping a bandage over Neji’s calf. She got to her feet, brushing her hair out of her face. 

“I believe Sakura has some ideas,” Kakashi suggested. Because he had heard many of her suggestions one night as she sat at the kitchen table with Sasuke. And only when he had gone to cut her off had he realized that she had been drinking herbal tea and not alcohol. 

“Okay. Sakura?” Naruto prompted, tone still a little testy. 

Sakura took a deep breath before she gave a smile. Only it wasn’t really a smile. 

“Neji casts control water to part the sea. That gives us ten minutes to navigate the sea bed. Asuma casts freedom of movement on you, doofus,” Sakura punctuated the last word with a pointed look in Naruto’s direction. “And you run off to find your mythical whatever. The rest of us hang back to deal with any amphibious creatures that try to mess with us.”

It was silent in the room. And then Tenten spoke. 

“I like that plan,” she declared. 

“Me too,” Sasuke agreed. 

“Yeah, let’s do that. I’m done kicking urchins and getting stabbed in the ass by sea hags,” Kisame said, nodding. 

The following morning, they set out at dawn. Asuma had a quick word with the fishermen about their plan. It took a little persuading, but they agreed to delay their fishing for a couple hours. 

“You okay?” asked Sakura as she watched Neji step up to the shore. Water lapped at the very tips of his toes.

“Not the easiest spell I’ve ever cast. But preferable to getting chased by another merrow,” Neji responded. Smiling, Sakura took a step back to let him concentrate. 

Neji extended both his hands. He murmured an incantation. And then slowly, as he separate his hands, the water in the Sleeping Gulf mirrored his movements. Slowly splitting apart in a clean line. In the meantime, Asuma cast his spell over Naruto. Naruto jumped a couple times in the sand to test the efficacy. 

“You have ten minutes. Move or you’ll drown,” Sakura called as she watched him take off down the wet sand. He easily dodged the spiny patches of pink and red coral. 

Once Naruto was out of earshot, Sasuke sidled up beside her. 

“You’d seriously let him drown?” he asked.

Sakura snorted. “No. But he doesn’t have to know that.”

Sasuke considered this for a minute before he shrugged.

Neji followed after Naruto, moving the water as he progressed. Tenten tagged along, her daggers held in her hands, eyes darting around as she searched for any creatures that lurked in the little crevices of stone that littered the sea floor.

Kakashi had brought a little hourglass with him. As the grains of sand began to run out, everyone began to shift uneasily on the beach.

Lips twisting to one side, Sasuke glanced at Sakura. “You’ve got a backup plan, I’m guessing?” 

“Yeah,” she replied, heaving a sigh. “But you won’t like it.”

With a wave of her hand, she cast water walk over the remaining members of their party. They watched as Sakura took a couple tentative steps onto the surface of the sea. And then she turned around to gesture for them to follow. 

Kisame was the first to follow her. He gave the water an appraising look as it held his weight easily. Kakashi and Asuma followed just after. Sasuke hesitated, lingering on the shore. 

“It lasts an hour. I won’t let you fall,” Sakura insisted, holding her hand out to him. 

“We don’t have time for this. Sorry, man,” Kisame interrupted. He grabbed Sasuke and hefted him over his shoulder. Ignoring Sasuke’s threats, Kisame began a cheerful stroll back out onto the open sea. 

It didn’t take long for them to find the strange divide in the water’s surface. They stopped at the edge, peering down to find Naruto struggling to pull a sword from a crack in a stone. Just in front of it stood a weathered statue of a woman with her hands held out in prayer. Sweat beaded on Neji’s face as he struggled to hold the spell for just a little longer. 

Sakura crouched down. “Need some help?” she offered.

Neji’s head whipped up and around, searching for the voice. Kakashi waggled his fingers in a little wave. 

Neji let out a sign of relief. “Please.”

Sakura cast the very same spell Neji had cast several minutes ago. As she grabbed hold of the water, she nodded at Neji. He lowered his arms, face relaxing. 

“Naruto?” Kakashi called. 

“Yeah?” he yelled back as he wiggled the sword in an effort to free it from its prison. 

“Have you tried doing something else?” the thief queried, knowing what the answer would be. 

“No. But I think I almost got it!” Naruto assured him. 

Kakashi and Sasuke exchanged a look. 

Asuma squinted at the statue. “Say, Tenten, is there any sort of writing on that thing?” he questioned. 

Tenten stepped around Naruto. She ran her fingers along the arm of the statue as she circled around it. Near the feet, she found some raised bumps. She made a face as she brushed the algae aside with the tips of her fingers. 

“Yuck! Uh... it just says the Hero’s Legendary Blade,” Tenten reported. “Oh. Wait. There’s more...... Only... only the truly penitent shall wield the might of the goddess.”

“Penitent?” Neji repeated. 

Tapping his chin, Asuma turned the word over in his head. And then he craned his neck to observe the sword and the statue again. His eyes lit up. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he hollered, “Naruto! Kneel!”

“What?” Naruto yelled back, sweat rolling down his neck and forehead. 

“Just do it!” Asuma snapped.

“This is weird!” Naruto protested even as he got on his knees. He wiggled around a little until his knees found two depressions in the stone. As he pressed his weight forward, the stone sank down with a groan. Eyes popping open, Naruto grabbed the sword again and pulled. It still refused to give.

“Hm... what’s missing?” wondered Asuma. Sakura puffed her cheeks out as she thought, too. She glanced down at the falcon emblem twisted around her forearm. And then it occurred to her.

“You’re in front of a goddess. Where’s your offering?” she chimed in.

As Sakura spoke, Tenten began digging in her pockets. She managed to find a gold coin. After squinting some more at the statue, she found a little round shape between the carved hands. When she dropped the coin into the spot, the sword dropped out of the crack with a metallic clang.

Naruto stared at the sword. The one he had been wrestling with for over ten minutes. Just lying there. He grasped the hilt, expressionless.

“Are you serious?” he whispered. 

“Come on, kid. We gotta get moving!” Asuma urged. 

“It was that easy?” Naruto continued to mumble as Sakura cast water walking over him and the rest of their companions. She released her control over the water. But as the waves came crashing down over him, he floated easily to the top. The sword still clutched in his hands. 

Tenten got to her feet, arms held out for balance. She laughed as she bumped into Neji and caught sight of his equally bewildered expression. 

“Let’s go. We probably attracted some attention with that stunt!” Sakura called over her shoulder. 

“I can’t believe it. All that struggling. It was... a coin? And... kneeling?” Naruto muttered. 

“Naruto!” Sasuke yelled.

As their party ran toward the shore, they heard a deep growl rumble up from somewhere under the waves. 

“Ah, shit,” sighed Kakashi. 

“What is he doing?” Sasuke hissed as he glanced over his shoulder. Naruto sat in the same spot, still unable to process how easy it was to retrieve the weapon he had struggled to find for over a month. And as he sat there, a deep purple tentacle broke the surface of the water. 

“Can we just let him drown?” Sasuke asked. 

“Sadly, no,” groaned Sakura as she turned and began running back in Naruto’s direction.

They arrived home well past sundown, covered in ink, guts, and they didn’t know what else. 

“Well. Calamari for dinner,” Asuma announced as he headed straight into the kitchen with his pack bulging with still-wriggling tentacles.

“Wonderful,” Neji grumbled, rubbing at the round imprints left in his arm. 

“I’m over seafood. Forever,” Tenten growled, trudging in after him.

They ran out of hot water running baths for everyone. And by the time everyone had washed up and eaten, it was late. 

Naruto sprawled out on the floor of the kitchen, the sword still clutched in one hand. 

“After all this time. It was that easy,” he sighed again. 

“What matters is that we got it, kiddo. Think positive,” Asuma urged as he stepped around him to finish washing all the dishes.

“I feel so dumb,” Naruto confessed. That made Asuma pause. He rested the pot on the edge of the sink, thinking. 

“You kind of are. No need to feel bad about it though. Everyone’s good at different things. Apparently planning isn’t your strength,” answered Asuma.

Naruto frowned. And then he didn’t as he took in those words. After a while, he responded, “Huh.... I guess so.”

Upstairs, Sasuke lay fast asleep in his bed, exhausted by hours of swinging his sword and shooting arrows into a rabid sea monster. On her way up, Sakura decided to stop by Kisame’s room. He had taken a fair beating during the battle. 

She knocked. There was no response. 

“I’m coming in,” she warned. 

She opened the door, readying a retort to one of his usual teasing insults. Instead, she froze as she spotted Kisame holding a rag soaked with blood. He lifted his head in time to catch the shock spreading across her face. He looked down at the rag.

“Ah. Relax, Doc. I was cleaning my sword,” he told her. He pointed with his free hand to his weapon propped up in the corner. The newly-polished blade gleamed in the light of the little fireplace. Sakura let out a sigh of relief. 

“Shit, Kisame. That scared me,” she admonished. The door swung shut as she crossed the room. 

“Aw, you care.”

There was the teasing. 

Still, if he felt well enough to joke around, Sakura knew she had little to worry about. She grabbed his hands. Other than a popped blister and some little scratches, he really seemed fine. But Kisame’s grin faded as he looked her over.

“You’re looking kind of ragged around the edges, Doc. You alright?” he queried.

Sakura rubbed her hands over her face. “Believe it or not, shoving Naruto’s intestines back into his gut isn’t my favorite thing in the world. So, no, probably not that okay,” she confessed. Kisame cringed. 

On top of that, the kraken had managed to twist Sasuke in the middle, severing his spine. That hadn’t been an easy fix either. 

Most people would chalk it up to all the spell slots Sakura had expended to keep her friends going in battle. But as Kisame scrutinized her expression, his eyebrows rose. 

“Healing is tough, huh,” he commented. 

And just from the way he said it, Sakura could tell that he understood. At least to some degree. Her shoulders sagged. 

“Yeah,” was all she managed to say. 

Kisame reached out. And with an awkward hand, he patted her shoulder a few times. Sakura laughed at how lost he looked. That seemed to ease some of Kisame’s awkwardness because he laughed too. 

“You’re too stressed, Doc. The next town we hit, you should let loose a little. Get drunk. Start a fight. Or... you know.... other stuff,” he suggested. Sakura punched him in the arm for the last suggestion. 

“You’re nasty,” she scolded. 

Kisame held both hands up. “Just trying to help. Didn’t mean anything by it,” he insisted. 

Sakura punched him again. Just for good measure. While she knew it couldn’t possibly hurt the bulky fighter, he still put on a big show about how he’d bruise in the morning. They both knew that was untrue.

“Anyway, I’m being serious. You’re working too hard. All we have to do is stab and hit. Your job is to make sure we’re alive to do all that. It’s a big responsibility,” Kisame pointed out. “You need a chance to relax too.”

“Okay, horndog. Thanks for the life advice,” Sakura snorted, rolling her eyes. She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. Kisame’s laughter followed her out. 

Sakura headed up all the way to the top floor of the rickety building. She had claimed the lone bedroom up in the attic. Partly because she didn’t want the creaks of someone’s footsteps hovering above her head. But partly because she wanted the stained glass window that sat up there. The pink and green bits of glass coloring the world outside in fantastic colors. And she liked the strange, watery lights the glass projected onto the weathered floorboards on moonlit nights like this one.

She changed into her nightgown in efficient motions. Folding up her tunic and her leggings. Thumb running along a tear in the side of her tunic. She would have to ask Kakashi to mend it for her in the morning.

Sakura let out a sigh as she sat on the edge of her bed. Which was lumpy and a little smelly compared to the feather bed she had back in the Imperial Citadel. But it was a bed nonetheless. One she was grateful for after their journey through the desert.

In the quiet of the night, she finally had a moment to collect her thoughts. 

Now that Naruto had finally retrieved his weapon, they would be leaving the comparative safety of the coast and heading for the mountains. And if memory served her right, the mountains were as frigid as they were treacherous. She would need to find a merchant who sold warmer clothing on the way up there. Some of her herb stocks were running low. An apothecary in a bigger town might carry some of the things she needed, but it wasn’t the right season or the right climate to forage for the remaining leaves and flowers. On top of that, she hadn’t heard back from her home village in many weeks now. She wondered if things were alright. Had they fallen ill? Were they just on the move?

Sakura slapped her hands to her cheeks. All the thoughts crowded together at once, congealing into a massive headache. It seemed like as soon as she tried to solve one problem, another popped up in its place. 

Although she hated to admit it, Kisame was right. She was stressed. So stressed that all the herbal tea in the world wouldn’t help untangle this mess.

Several minutes later, Kisame heard a knock on his door again. He almost didn’t answer until he heard the knock again. And then Sakura’s voice drifted through the wood.

“...Kisame?”

He let out a deep breath. “...Yeah?”

She closed the door behind her. Looking so different from how she had a little while ago when she had barged in teasing him with all her signature sass.  She took up less room than she normally did, somehow.

He leaned his elbow on his thigh, staring her down. Eyes lingering on the way her hands fisted at her sides. Like she was gathering up the will to say something big.

Sakura felt her face go hot as she realized what the hell she was about to do. She fumbled for the right words. She let out a huff. And maybe because he saw that she was trying, Kisame didn’t rib at her.

She took a few steps toward him. As she approached, he sat up straight, elbows landing on the armrests of his chair.

Only his eyes followed her movements as she reached out to take his right hand. Placed it on her waist.

“...Ohhh.” He dragged the sound out. It was a little rumbly, like a dragon was stirring to life somewhere in his chest. His eyes took her in a second time. Dragging more slowly, lingering in places other than her face. But after a moment, he arched an eyebrow at her.

"Why me?” he asked.

Sakura looked anywhere but at him. But as he nudged her a little closer, she had to rest her hand on his shoulder to keep balance. Feeling her face go hot, she found the words. 

“It has to be someone I trust.... not to make this weird,” she replied.

“You trust me?” he questioned. Sounding incredulous.

His tone made Sakura really stop and think. And he gave her the time to do just that. When she finally came to an answer, her eyes met his. 

“....Wow... yeah. I guess I do.”

A bewildered smile pulled at her mouth. The same smile tugged at the corners of Kisame’s lips too. He tilted his head to the side as he looked over her face again.

“Alright, then. Not make it weird? I think I can do that, Doc,” he chuckled as he pulled her into his lap.

[nln4]

stew - a chargestep fic

Pairing: M!Ortega/GN!Sidestep Word Count: 1546 Rating: G for grins and gazes Pre-Heartbreak

stew /st(y)o͞o/

noun: a dish of meat and vegetables cooked slowly in liquid in a closed dish or pan.

verb: 1.  remain in a heated or stifling atmosphere. 2. worry about something, especially on one's own.

---

The apartment has seen better days. Or better states, rather. Takeout boxes, empty bottles and newspapers litter the room, so dense you can barely see the floor underneath. The barest hint of sunlight peeks through a sliver in the curtains. You can only imagine how much he hates being cooped up.

“Sorry,” he says, with a quick flash of a grin. “Didn’t have time to clean.” 

If you didn’t know him well enough, the grin would be just fine. 

But you do, and see the pinched strain in his eyes, the guilt of letting the villain get away and getting himself hurt, the anger threatening to boil over, the impatience of wanting to get back on the field…

“Nobody blames you,” you say, dumping the plastic bags on the counter. 

Ordinarily, you’re a lot more choosy with groceries but the Marshal insisted you send the bill to the Rangers and there are just so many desserts you wanted to try. 

“What, for not cleaning up?” he laughs, kicking the apartment door shut. “You’re not that special.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say acidly, rifling through the bags for the limited edition candy bar that had caught your eye in the checkout aisle earlier. “How’s the arm?” 

He holds up the arm, bound in a cast and sling - or does his best to do so anyways - with a wince. “Well, the doctors say that if I break it again, I won’t have many options other than retirement.” 

“Maybe you can get a cool new Mod, like Chen.”

“Ehh,” he sighs with a noncommittal shrug of his good shoulder. “Of course, the engineers said that if I crack the emitters again, they’ll saw my arm off.” 

“And lose their cash cow? Please.” The Rangers Corporation have him on a leash. Exactly how tight, you don’t know, but it’s enough that his eyes grow a little cool every time it’s mentioned.

He gives the same half-shrug again, his eyes flitting every which way to find a new distraction and you’d press the matter of him avoiding talking but there’s no point. He charges forward, sure as always.

“Tell me you bought actual food,” he says, eyeing the candy bar you’ve been nibbling on, finally deciding on his target to steer the conversation away from himself. 

“Yes, Tía,” you reply with a sarcasm that you would never use with his mother. “I bought stuff for soup.”

“Soup?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Do you actually know how to make soup?”

“It’s not that hard, you just toss it all in a pot.” 

His face scrunches up, lips pressed in a tight grimace. “Nope, not how it works.” 

“You sure? Maybe I’ll use the blender then.” 

“No!” 

And in between his shock and disbelief that you could possibly be so desperately bad at cooking, he laughs, whole face lit up like Christmas and your heart gives a funny leap of relief. It feels so much better when he’s laughing. If you could ease just a bit of the pain, you would. For now, you’ll settle for seeing him smile. And then the realization sinks in that it makes you happy to see him smile and your heart stutters even worse than before.

“What about you?”

You busy yourself with another bite of chocolate, pulling vegetables and pre-made broth from the bags, anything to avoid his eyes because your face might be burning. 

“What about me?” 

(Might be.)

“Are you doing okay?” 

(Might.) 

“I feel okay.”

“You sure? I’ve seen better looking trainwrecks.”

You scowl. “Uh, we live in Los Diablos? The preferred description would be ‘natural disaster.’” 

He snorts. “Okay, ‘natural disaster,’” he says, grabbing onto the back of your hood with his good hand and yanking, gently as to not hurt you but with enough force to make you take a step back so that you’re close, face-to-face. His tired eyes search yours, finds what he’s looking for. “I guess we’re both wrecks, aren’t we?” 

“Speaking of natural disasters,” you say, leaning away from the scent of stale beer and sweat. “You stink.” 

“Hey!” he says, indignant, waving the bulky cast. “It’s been hard to manage and I’m injured, stop making fun of me.” The last word is drawn out in a pathetic whine. 

Your nose wrinkles in disgust, both at the smell and at his tone. There’s an impish grin on his face as he leans closer, rubbing his head against you like an overgrown cat because he knows exactly which buttons of yours to press as you jab fingers into his sides in revenge.

“Stop!”

“Ow, oww, hey, ow!” 

He bats his eyes at you, bottom lip jutting out and quivering. “Help me wash my hair.” 

“Only because I refuse to eat with your nasty smell around me.” 

“So mean!” He draws a line of tears down his face with a finger. “Wait until the public hears about how Sidestep the hero is just a huge bully.” 

“Shut up,” you say, though lacking any real vitriol before pushing him down the hall towards the bathroom. He deftly avoids another barrage of your pokes at his sides. 

The bathroom is much more luxurious and spacious than your own - and thankfully also comes with a bathtub as you would have no idea how’d you attempt to help him clean in the shower. So you roll up your sleeves, as far as you could manage and run the taps, test the water for a decent warm temperature. 

“A little help?” 

You turn to find him stuck, half-way out of the white t-shirt and with a little bit of wiggling, you manage to maneuver the shirt around the cast and extricate him from his clothing. For a second, your gaze drifts across his torso, down his abdomen, at the multitude of scars he’s managed to collect, some long faded, some still healing. 

You have to clench your hands into fists to stop yourself from reaching out and tracing your fingers along them. 

His thumb pulls against the waistband of his sweatpants and your gaze jerks upward to catch a wicked grin stretched across his lips. “Well, I don’t need help with these.” 

“Don’t you dare, Ricardo, I swear--”

“I’m joking!” 

“Bend over.”

“Ooh, buy me dinner first, at least!”

You turn off the running tap and flick him with water in annoyance so he retaliates with a splash and soon you are both soaked but you are both laughing as he settles on the floor and makes himself comfortable. It’s a little awkward for you to lean over the tub to reach him but you manage well enough as he leans backwards, his neck resting against the curve. You squeeze a bit of shampoo into your palm and work it into a lather in his hair, scratching gently against his scalp with your nails. His shoulders slowly relax and he gazes at you from half-lidded eyes.

“What?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re staring.” You’re still scrubbing away, fingers caught in his hair and there’s something so satisfying in the repetitive motions, it almost calms you more than it does him. 

“Well, it’s either you or the ceiling.” 

“Oh.”

You take great care to massage and rinse, until no trace of shampoo is left and you’re so close you can see every pore, every scar, every water droplet clinging to his lashes, the lines of his lips, the earnestness in his eyes that tell you he couldn’t turn away, even if he wanted to. So close you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin and your face burns again. 

It would be so easy to close your eyes, to close the distance - but all of life is full of hard choices, so you force yourself to turn your head, pull the plug on the drain to release the water.

No need to make this complicated. You two are partners. You’re there to help him. 

That’s all there is to it. 

“Where are the towels?” Your voice manages to come out as steady as you can manage, even with what feels like your heart in your throat. When did the air get so heavy? When did it get so hard to breathe?

(That’s all there is.)

“Over there, on the rack.” His voice sounds breezy, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole on your back as you leave to get one. 

(That’s all.)

So you count to one, two, three and take a breath, brace yourself, toss him a fluffy towel. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He drags it over his head in an effort to dry his hair but it looks like he’s struggling so you kneel down, grateful that the towel covers his eyes as you help him dry off. 

 A bright brown eye peeks through a gap in the towel, through his unruly hair, and his hand catches yours, gives yours the briefest squeeze before letting go. You can still feel the warmth of his palm against your skin, like a small jolt of a static shock that has nothing to do with his powers.

His gaze never wavers.

You can’t return it. The look. Or his feelings.

“I’m gonna call Tía, see if she’s got a recipe for the soup.” 

(You can’t keep lying to yourself either.)

“Mm,” he murmurs in agreement. 

(You can’t.)

[walking-true-to-style]

Real Life or Fantasy || Queen Fantasy AU

Pilot: Seven Seas of Rhye

Pairing: Queen x Reader (Choose your own path coming soon)

Words: 2.35K

Warnings: Nearly drowning, this is just the introduction of Freddie. brief use of “It” when referring to reader.

Gender: Unspecified

Synopsis: Your father has always told you about the Island between the Seven Seas of Rhye. You never believed him... that is until you washed up on the shores of a strange beach after a shipwreck that separates you and your father. Now you’re in for the adventure you always dreamed of outside the rickety village of Driftwood Wharf as you meet the creatures of the island, including Freddie the Fairy King, and many others. But at what cost?

A lighthouse resides just past the rickety homes of the coastal village of Driftwood Wharf. Within the lighthouse is the keeper, your father, steering ships into the main harbor where sailors will do their trading or the occasional pirate will enter under the radar to wreak havoc and plunder from the markets until they’re satisfied. No, it isn’t the most glamorous of places, but it’s home.

...Sorta...

Today is like any other- a little misty in the morning, quite grey, a storm will likely roll in by nightfall. A nice day to walk the docks and maybe sketch the incoming boats before the rain gets too heavy. You pull on your coat, shivering from the breeze and walk downstairs to greet you father before heading out. Sure, you could probably get a good view from the lamp room, but fresh air will do you some good. You climb down the stairs into the office area of the lighthouse, the wood creaking under your feet. Once down, you enter the office where your father is scribbling in his journal, staring at a map of the seas. The bowl of soup you left for him the night before remains untouched, now cold from the hours of draftiness of the room. He doesn’t seem to even notice you enter.

“You need to start eating more...” you murmur, pressing a kiss into his silver hair, causing him to jump slightly. He smiles at you and returns the kiss to your cheek, letting out a tired sigh. He must’ve been up all night judging by his bloodshot eyes and dark bags behind his bottle cap frames.

“I will, I will… I’ve just been so focused on plotting this course. I want to be able to bring you back to the Seas of Rhye once I find it.” he tells you with a yawn. You sigh and shake your head slightly. In truth, you don’t really believe that the island between the Seas of Rhye is out there. Nevertheless, you still support his dream as best you can.

“I’ll make you a fresh bowl. Be right back.” Your father nods, and you slip out of the room to prepare more soup. Once back you set it down on his desk, careful not to splash anything on the documents strewn about.

“Here we are- fresh from the pot. You have to actually eat this one, papa. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to force feed it to you.” you joke. Your father snorts at you and slurps up a spoonful of the stew, not caring about his tongue burning.

“My own child bossing me around… You’re all grown up now, (y/n). Shouldn’t you be off married to someone nice or running a successful soup shop? You’d be very good at it.” he tells you sitting back in his chair, taking another big slurp. You roll your eyes playfully.

“But then who would take care of you, ya old fart?” you chortle, nudging him slightly. He laughs back and shakes his head.

“I suppose… I see you’re already dressed. Heading out to the docks to draw again?” your father looks over your coat, sketchbook already stored in the pocket from the day before. You nod to him with a smile. It was really the only think you enjoyed doing in town given that the people were as bleak as the village itself.

“Well, I won’t keep you waiting then, darlin’. You go have fun. Stay dry. I fear a storm is coming.” he tells you, pressing a kiss into your cheek. You nod at him, giving an “okay” before you head out the door. As you’re about to walk out, your father pipes up.

“Oh, and uh (y/n).” you turn to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” he says with a grin.

“Love you too.” you grin back before heading out.

Ah, yes, nothing out of the ordinary at the docks. You swear you’ve drawn the same boats at least a million times. The same man coming and going every other day to buy fish for his family on an island a few miles offshore from the mainland. The same fishing boats heading south of the harbor to bring in the next day’s fill… Everything is generally the same. Still, it’s a nice pastime. You look across the water back at the lighthouse, your father’s boat the Notus-Zephyr bobs in the water. You smile at it, knowing it would perhaps be sailed to find the island he often dreams of. You decide to draw it for the millionth time in your book, paying attention to details you may have missed in previous renditions.

Though you wouldn’t know without everyone lighting candles inside their homes, the sun has passed through the sky after hours of sketching. Thoroughly dampened from the on-setting mist, you pack up your sketchbook and pen before heading back. Thunder rumbles overhead. As you walk toward the lighthouse, an unfamiliar ship catches your eye, illuminated by the crack of lightning. Black sails, looking vaguely like the wings of a bat flap in the wind. You stare at it quizzically.

How did I not realize that it was there?

You blink and the ship is gone as fast as it had appeared. You press your lips together in confusion before shaking your head.

A trick of the light perhaps? No….

You try to shake it off and continue on your way back home. Still, you can’t help but feel that ship means something…

Once back at the lighthouse, you notice the office is illuminated by candles, signaling your father hasn’t moved from the room all day. You knock on the door lightly. A muffled “come in” is heard on the other side. You enter quietly. Not to your surprise, your father is still glued to his desk. However, more papers are thrown to the ground as before. You pick one up. It is a sketch of a man in red with quite the exotic look to him. Certainly not like anyone in Driftwood… He seems to have an overbite and a wild mustache as well.

“This looks really nice.” you say, admiring the artwork. Your father turns around and smiles.

“Thank you.” he grins. It’s easy to see where you got your skill from. You look over at the desk. To your delight, the soup bowl is empty, and your father seems to have a bit more of a glow than this morning.

“So did ya see anything exciting today? Or was it just Frank and the fishermen again today?” your father inquires, turning half his attention to you, keeping the rest on finishing up a topography of what you can only assume is the island.

You bit your lip, “Well… it may have been a trick of the light but….” you trail off. You fidget slightly with the buttons of your coat, unsure on how to explain the new phenomenon to him with the ship you- at least you think you saw earlier in the evening. Your father raises a brow at you.

“But?” he encourages.

“But I think I saw a ship with, like,..... Wings for sails. Certainly wasn’t a pirate ship-”

“Did you say wings for sails?” your father interrupts very quickly. You cock a brow at him.

“Uh- yes?”

“With black masts and disappears after you’ve seen it?”

You wonder if he knows of this ship. Judging by his panicked expression, you’d say he does… and not for a good reason.

“Yes, what is so import-”

“(Y/n), we need to leave Driftwood Wharf. Right Now.”

With more swiftness than you’ve seen from your father in years, he gathers up the papers and maps on his desk and shoves them into the satchel hanging on his chair. You watch him with sheer bewilderment.

“Dad, what’s going on?” you ask him, fear laced in your voice. Without looking at you, he replies, “There’s no time to explain. Help me gather everything up. We need to be on the boat as soon as possible.” his tone is grim, a stark contrast to his usual jolly one.

“What about the storm?” you press. Finally your father turns to you and grasps your arms. His face is unreadable with the array of emotions it holds.

“With that ship here, only bad things will come if we stay a moment longer.” he tells you lowly. It fills you with enough fear to shut up and help him gather everything. You both gather clothes and canteens before running down to the lighthouse’s dock and boarding the boat. Already, the rain overhead is beginning to get angry. Regardless, you both press on and sail off.

As you move farther from the lighthouse, your anxiety begins to kick in. You’ve always had an idea of what was going on. Day in and day out. Now? You’re sailing into the unknown.

“Where…. where are we going?” you speak up as your father steers the ship over the choppy water. He remains stoic, with a hard eye on the open sea.

“We’re getting to the Island.” he tells you flatly. Your eyes widen at him. The island?! It’s just a myth from his dream isn’t it?

“Papa, you can’t be seriou-”

“It’s out there, (y/n)! I know it is…” his hard gaze softens as he looks back at you.

“We’re…. We’re going to be safer there. As soon as we-”

“LOOK OUT!”

Suddenly, a wave crashes harshly into the boat, sending its nose upward. You have a death grip on the railing, and your father grasps tightly to the wheel, maneuvering over the angry ocean. Rain is hitting you with such an intensity, one might think they were bullets. It nearly causes you to let go of the rail. Still, you keep on.

“We’re going to be okay! Get the sails back up!” your father screams over the crashing waters and thundering storm. You inch your way to the rope, the wind howls through the sails as it blows the ship this way and that. You’re able to reach the rope and pull up the sails to at least keep them at bay. However, another colossal wave erupts, forcing the boat over with great force. You and your father are plunged underwater. You swim in a desperate attempt to find him in the murky blackness of the sea. Your lungs scream at you to finally get air, but you ignore them til the last minute. Above the ocean you cry for him, though, your voice is muffled by the storm. You hear him calling to you at a distance through the debris of the now cracked and sinking boat. You try to swim toward his voice, but another wave forces you under. You plunge down and manage to hit your head on a rock below, causing you to blackout… Your father’s voice now silent.

++++

You awaken on the shore of a foreign land. The sun beats down on your face, forcing you to shield your eyes. However, you cannot move. Your body is too sore and your vision is too hazy to make out anything. You are starting to pass out again when you see silhouettes above you.

“A human? What’s it doing here?” one sneers

“It’s badly hurt…. What do we do?” says another.

“We must take it t o t h e k i n g...”

You black out again.

When you awaken for the second time, you are in a room on likely the most comfortable hammock one could dream of. You peel your eyes open, but it is still quite dark. There are no windows save for one behind a tattered, red curtain letting in very little light into the tiny bungalow. You aren’t exactly sure what time of day it is, but all you can think of is how sore you are. And… father… Oh, god where is he? You try to move, but Every inch of your body alerts you of pain the second you attempt to peel yourself off the bed. You groan at the sensation, twisting onto your side and clutching your arms.

“I wouldn’t do that, darling. You had a very nasty night by the looks of it.” A sweet voice says. Though, you don’t exactly know where it is coming from.

“Who… who’s there?” you choke out, but your voice is hoarse. You crane your neck to a dark corner of the room. Squinting, you can just barely make out the shape of a man. His teeth glint in the dim light of the candle as he gives you a toothy grin.

“Oh, I didn’t introduce myself did I? How rude of me.” he chuckles. It was…. A sickly sweet sound. One you swear you’ve only heard in dreams. He steps forward into the light. Your eyes widen at the sight of the man before you. He is the same man your father drew up in his office…. The one from his dream, but-

“No need to gawk, dear. Though, it is quite flattering.” he chuckles. You truly cannot believe your eyes. Perhaps you, too were dreaming? Still, you avert your gaze slightly.

“No need to be sheepish, either, lovey. I am Freddie, the fairy king. And… you are?” he sits beside you on the bed. You know better than to give your name to fae from what your father has told you. You think up a new name, so as not to give yours up.

“Ainsel.” you choke out. Freddie looks at you, blinking for a moment, before letting out a hearty laugh.

“Clever little human. You know better than to give your name to the fae. Fear not, I will not ask you again, but I do need your help. If you want to survive here, you’re going to need to let me help you, love. I won’t hurt you. That is a promise.”

“A… promise?” you clench your jaw. Do fairies make promises? Or is this another trick? Still, something in his dark eyes seems genuine. He closes them and nods to you.

“You have my word…. Ainsel.”

To be continued...

A/N: Sorry that took so long oof. Especially with how short it is compared to short stories lmao. Here it is though!!! I’ll gradually start to introduce the other boys when I can in later chapters. Probably the next one will introduce someone else.

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