#their faces are like when you wrap a dog in a headscarf like a little babushka. i used to do this with Joey ❤️

[scandalousadventures]

Officially opening my online shop with these two handmade sweet clown werewolf dolls! Shop link in replies 🐺

[that-one-anxious-mango]

For the Drabble event would you be willing to do the first I love you? I love your writing.

                    As We Grow 

Summary: About how Austin and his best girl said those magical three letter words to one another. Plus the origin of their famous catch phrase.

Contents: MAXIMUM FLUFF. Mentions of past trauma. Gooey feelings. Sleepy Magnus. Crying. Awesome Austin (per usual)

A/N: Hi Beautiful Humans! How are you all? Ugh I missed you! Alas, I’ve been trapped in the claws of college. BUT, since I’m on break and writing up a storm I will try and get out as much as I can while I’m off, and also write some things I can put on auto fill when things get crazy.

I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday. To the Anon who suggested this sorry about the wait babe. AND to any one else who requested something I’m working on it babes. BARE WITH ME.

Any who please enjoy the fic!

P.S Everyone feel free to PLEASE comment and reblog. Also send me letters with ideas and prompts. Love hearing from you all! Much Love! *hugs*

                                              _______

You were sitting on your couch writing in your black leather planner, in it was your to-do list of all the mundane things that needed to be done in the upcoming week.

It had proven to be quite effective and useful in helping you to manage the events and such that went on in your semi-chaotic life.

And as old as you felt admitting that you had a planner in the first place, you felt even more old due to your current choice of outfit and music.

Sitting in your large house pink house dress with matching pink house slippers. Your hair was wrapped up in a silk headscarf and clear kitten framed glasses adorned your face.

In the background, the R & B station on Spotify played Saving all my love from the Whitney Houston album, while the scent of lavender and eucalyptus essential oils filled the air.

It was Sunday which meant self-care and a little bit of life management. Today you'd woken up and gotten brunch with Phoebe, Alex, Alana, and Beatrice. After you and a eager Magnus went to the Totem to go and browse, which you ended up buying a book for yourself and bought two books for Austin. Then you treated yourself to a nice hot shower and a full head to toe skin care routine.

 And now you were where you were.

Earlier in the day Austin had texted you to let you know that he probably wasn't going to be able to come over to watch re-runs of Grey's Anatomy while eating take out Thai-food like the two of you had originally planned. And even though you were disappointed a bit.

You understood.

Every since the two of you had started dating about three months ago, you understood that there were some days and times that you unfortunately may not hear from Austin due to him immersing himself into his work and preparation for Elvis. It's something he'd been upfront about in the beginning of your relationship, about how the process of him doing this role wouldn't exactly mean it would be a cakewalk for you guys. But within being a creative yourself mixed with the rather intense feelings you felt for Austin, you decided that you'd be in this for the long haul as long as you could be.

In the middle of Wednesday's list you heard the buzzer ring.

Frowning in confusion you got up, being followed by the patters of your scary purple onesie dressed guard dog, Magnus.

You weren't expecting anyone.

Going to the intercom you pressed the button speaking, " Yes? "

" Delivery for the most beautiful girl in the world." The voice familiar voice hummed through the box. The bright smile that invaded your face was wide and the involuntary skips that your heart did paired well with the warmth that filled you body.

Deciding to be a tease you replied, " I'm sorry but I think you have the wrong place. Have you tried apartment 3A. The young lady that lives there is quite beautiful and very stylish so it seems." You joked referring to your downstairs neighbor, Gladys Reed, who was a older lady that you'd befriended after a creepy encounter with another neighbor of yours. She was sweet and always looked out for you. She also always complimented you and Austin whenever she seen the two of you.

And you know what they say about an elder approving of a couple. 

It's good luck.

" Well. As beautiful as she is and as nice as that vintage Chanel may look, between me and you I think I you got her beat, baby. All seven days a week and twenty four hours in the day." He chuckled back, " Now let me up so I can see that beautiful face."

Giggling to yourself in glee, a short, " Okay." Squeaked out,  hitting the button that allowed Austin in.

It was only a matter of seconds before the knock on the door came and you ripped it open practically launching yourself into Austin's arms who was quick to sit down whatever was in his hands and happily catch you, securing his hands under your ass to hold you up. You both spoke quick little hi and hellos before you sealed your lips on his.

A fat wet kiss was placed on his lips followed by the depth he poured into it and the move to push the two of you up against a nearby wall, while he let his tongue nudged at the bottom of your lip until you let him in. Tiny moans could now be heard from you that resulted in the grip he had to your ass tightening.

With the door still wide open you could feel things heating up in many different places. Only the small thunderous barks and incessant feeling of paws hitting yours and Austin's legs pulled the two of you away.

Separating you smiled down at Magnus along with Austin who greeted him, cheeks red with embarrassment, " Hey Mags. Sorry man didn't see you there. What's up." He offered slowly setting you back down. Earning a enthused bark of a response, Austin laughed before turning his attention back to you.

" Well I guess you really are trying to compete with Miss Gladys. Huh, baby." He commented as his eyes raked you up and down.

Truth be told he thought you looked quite good. Like someone's fine wife...or mother. The last half of his thought made his chest flutter, because if things kept going the way they were he could see all those things down the line for you two.

Instantly beginning to feel self conscious you quickly offered to go and change into something more age appropriate and appealing. But your efforts were halted, " Uh uh, no. You seem cozy and comfortable, babe. Which makes me feel comfortable and cozy. You look good." He reassured leaning down to peck your lips before smirking, " Sexy even. Besides, long time ago I used to have a thing for older woman, so this might be doing it for me a little bit." He wiggled his eyebrows at your causing the two of you to begin a laughing.

Cheeks heating up you had to remember the spark of curiosity you had when he came in, so you asked, " So, Mr. Delivery man what'd you bring me? "

Looking at you he motioned with his head to follow his gaze to the wall by door and down. And when you looked you seen the pretty medium sized plant in a brown pot with a nicely tied pink ribbon around it sitting on the floor.

Your face scrunched in thoughts and nerves, " Babe, what is this? You know that I don't have a green thumb. At all." You reminded.

And it was true, every plant you'd gotten over you lifetime had always ended up the same way. Dead.

Even the Cacti you'd tried to take care of had found themselves being welcomed into the glory place where all the rest of your plants rested, otherwise known as the trash.

         Like you literally watered a cactus like once...maybe twice a month. So it astonishing to you how you managed to keep a puppy alive ... and not a plant.

" This..", Austin went over and scooped up the plant in hands bringing it over to you, " is our love fern." He stated holding it out.

Taking it cautiously, you bafflingly looked between the nice sized plant and Austin sheepishly smiling," Our..love...fern." You parroted looking at the amused face Austin held.

He nodded, " Yeah, baby. It's our love fern. I got it because you said you wanted one last week when we were watching that Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson movie."  He reminded you of the little comment you'd made when the two of you had been snuggled up watching How to lose a guy in ten days.

Then light bulb went off in your head and your eyes widen in playful disbelief,     " BABE! I WAS JOKING! You didn't have to actually go out and bring a poor plant back here to practically sentence to death." " You gawked at him laughing.

" We'll I'm not. There are two reasons why I bought this lovely thing . First, because although I know that you, my love. Are no Mother Nature, I have a pretty good track record of being able to keep plants alive. And I figured that if you have it here at your place, then I'll have a absolute reason and responsibility to come and see you and Magnus at least twice a week. Plus I'll teach you how to care for it when I'm not here, honey." He explained glancing over to the puppy who was enjoying himself on the couch happily lounging on your abandoned blanket.

When your eyes met his again you noticed how serious his face had turned. They captured yours in trance making sure there was no where else for you to look, " And the second and most important reason I bought the plant is because.." He started, using a hand to grab both of yours. He secured them ontop of his own hands that rested on the pot. You unconsciously squeezed them making sure that you had a firm clutch as the two of you held up the pot together.

" I also bought this plant because, I love you. I love you Y/N L/N. So much. That's something I've been wanting to tell you since I met you three months ago. And as this plant will surely grow everyday...so will the love that you and I have for each other. " He paused, " That's if you feel the same way of course." His eyes looked hopeful and pleading at the same time. Like his whole entire being was resting on what'd you say next.

And unbeknownst to you....it kinda did.

By now the waterline in your eyes was threatening to spill and this overwhelming mixture of joy and fear overtook your body all at once. Joyful that the man that you did in-fact love, loved you too. But fearful that while, yes, he did love you, for how long?  How long would he love and enjoy you before he decided that he was done and ready to leave like so many other people in your life had.

 Pulling you out of your thoughts Austin had moved to take the plant out of both  your hands and set it down on the floor next to you. Moving in closer he held your face in his hands gently lifting your head positioned to the floor, up to look at him.

As soon as your eyes locked the tears started flowing and you couldn't hold it anymore, " I love you too Austin. I-I really do." You almost whispered, the worry on his face seemed to only half melt when he seen that you weren't done with your proclamation, " But I'm scared. " You confessed.

His voice was soft in concern, " Scared of what, baby?"

His attentive tone made you feel even worst and you began crying a bit harder causing him to coo pulling you into his chest, resting his chin lightly on your head while soothingly rubbing your back. " You're okay, mama. You're alright. Just Breathe." He affirmed helping you along.

It seemed like the two of you stayed like that, forever in the moment.

Him basking in the feeling of you against him, and you relishing in the music that was the beat of his heart. You had slowed your breathing down to match it. 

It wasn't until you had pulled it together and found the strength to just be honest and say what you needed to say, " I'm afraid that you'll love me for as long as you want and then leave me once you get however and whatever you need. Or find somebody new. I'm not saying that you would do something like that, Austin. But you're not the first person to say those three words to me, and then utter the other two. Good bye."

Sighing, he hated hearing that this was even a doubt in your mind. Not because he was offended or he thought you didn't trust him, but because it made him upset that people in your past hadn't had the courage or god given common sense to take care and cherish you, like he planned to.

So in comfort he posed his own question, " What if you decided to do the same thing? If you find some other guys that could fulfill your needs of cuddles, tacos, and bookkeeping? Huh? What would happen then?" He asked.

Without hesitation you went, " Austin I would never, ever, EVER. Leave you for someone else you know that." You sniffled.

Tenderly pulling you closer he responded, " And just how you would never, I would never. I know that others haven't treated you the way they should have. But baby I am here to stay as long as you want me. And if that just so happens to be forever. Then dammit,  you better believe I'll love you forever and always. " He stopped chuckling a bit, " Hell, I might just follow you into the beyond, baby. And love on you there."

His comments laugh. He made you feel so at peace and loved. You felt warm inside and outside of your body.

Pulling away you went to look at his face which his instinctively reached out and wiped some stray tears off of your face,  offering a somber smile, " Well okay then. Let's do it. I'll love you Austin Butler. Forever, always and beyond." You affirmed smiling.

Nodding in excitement he said, " And I too will love you Y/N Y/L/N. Forever, Always and Beyond. No matter what." He concluded swooping you in for a kiss that tasted salty by the mixture of your tears and some of his. The two of you had kissed plenty of times now, but with each kiss still came that gooey feeling. And you never wanted to let it go anywhere.

Minutes whirled by you two being wrapped in each other before Austin was picking up the plant to try and help you find the best place for it.

Deciding that it'd thrive best in your bedroom window where it was in line of direct sunlight and your eyesight. You now lied snuggled up with Austin's arms securely wrapped around your body while he big spooned, and felt the little movements Magnus made in his sleep from his position at the foot of your bed.

Together the two of you watched the sun say it's goodnight and moon say hello when Austin made a comment in your ear, " Now, baby. No matter what happens. You have absolutely got to remember to help keep our love fern alive. I mean it, now. Don’t let our love fern die." He warned kissing the shell of your ear.

Just then a corny reference to the movie popped in your head and you couldn't resist, " But, honey. What if it decides it wants to go to sleep? " You teased.

Chuckling along he responded with a, " Absolutely not."

                                             ---------

              * Reference from Movie :) * 

[otterintheflightdeck]

Gerveth snippet

A snippet from The Plague of The Elves 2: Electric Boogaloo (working title).

I don’t have any real intention of writing this anytime soon (still in Geralt/Morvran hell and work is way too stressful), but! I like this bit from one of the first scenes.

***

"Come lie with me," Iorveth said, stepping back.

Geralt's hands fell from his sides, but he hesitated, shifting his weight. "Brought food." He gestured behind himself, indicating some spot beyond the edge of the camp where he'd likely left his horse. Iorveth nodded and waved him off.

He was expecting a handful of potatoes, or a loaf of Marlene's bread, perhaps, but Geralt came back with what had to be a small deer's worth of meat wrapped in wax paper, gathered into a precarious pile in his arm, and a large burlap sack dangling from his other hand. He put it all down by the fire, next to Eluned and Nia, with a polite "may our meeting bring prosperity to both our houses" -- a greeting so antiquated it might as well have come out of an elven book of fairy tales. Iorveth smiled at the rare misstep, warmth filling his chest even as both women snickered at him. "He means he's glad to meet you."

"Uh. Yeah."

"Likewise, Gwynbleidd," Eluned replied before turning to him, mirth dancing in her eyes alongside the flickering flames. "Take the tent."

Iorveth shook his head at the offer -- there was too little time, had he even had the energy to do anything other than sleep -- and went to his bedroll, a short distance away from the fire. Geralt followed.

"Thank you for the food," Nia called out. Then she added, nearly choking on repressed laughter, "May Dana Méadbh return these offerings to you tenfold."

Geralt frowned, apparently realizing he was being teased, but did not bother to reply. Iorveth toed off his worn boots and crawled his way under his wool blanket and the gambeson he'd spread over it for additional warmth, settling on his side at one edge of the thin bedding. Geralt understood his silent request and soon he was at his back, one arm around him. He'd taken off his jerkin, and if Iorveth was very still, he thought he could feel his heartbeat through the few layers of cloth that remained between them, strong and steady, slower than a normal man's. He sighed into the wolf pelt he'd rolled into a makeshift pillow and let his eye slip closed.

Geralt nuzzled his way to the back of his neck, the hard ridge of his nose nudging at his headscarf. Finally he reached up and eased it off his head, and Iorveth let him. From any other lover, it would've felt like an empty gesture, a forced show of insouciance toward his scars, but Geralt was simply after the simple, animalistic pleasure of smelling him; he rubbed his face against the back of Iorveth's head, sighing, then curled even closer, wedging his nose behind Iorveth's ear.

"Dog," Iorveth said, fond.

"Mm. Missed you."

Geralt's warmth was leeching into him, easing the soreness that lingered in his limbs from too many days in the saddle, and Geralt's chest and thighs felt pleasantly solid against him -- a reminder that he could allow himself to let his guard down. There were few threats here that a witcher wouldn't be able to neutralize without even his archers' help, and so for the first time in months, Iorveth let himself think of the future rather than his and his group's immediate survival.

He'd stayed at Corvo Bianco but for a short time, yet the brilliant blue of Toussaint's sky, the sweet smell of vines heavy with plump grapes, and the stark, broken silhouettes of the ruins that dotted the landscape had sunk under his skin like so many tattoos, and the trek down the mountains and into Sansretour Valley, this time, had felt much like a homecoming. He wondered what the vineyard would look like when he finally reached it again, how beautiful the olive trees would be in full bloom, and whether Yennefer had been able to talk Geralt into renovating the house after all. He thought of the rich taste of Marlene's stews and of what she would be adding to them at this time of the year -- spring leeks, perhaps, or asparagus.

Geralt gently tugged at the hem of his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, and slid his hand under it. The slow strokes of calloused fingertips over his ribs drew Iorveth from his thoughts, and soon he realized what Geralt was looking for. "There's no scar. Surely you weren't doubting Yennefer's abilities."

He felt the curl of Geralt's smile against his skin, his stubble tickling his ear. "'Course not." His hand stilled, splayed comfortably on Iorveth's stomach, and Iorveth covered it with one of his own.

"How is she?"

"Good. Bored, though. Back to reading romance novels. She'll be happy to see you. Marlene, too." He spoke on in a murmured monotone, about Marlene and Barnabas-Basil and something about wine, and sleep pulled at the edges of Iorveth's consciousness, blurring the words into a comforting, meaningless buzz. Geralt must have felt it, or smelled it, or heard his breathing change; he caught Iorveth's fingers between his and squeezed them lightly. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you up at midnight."

[violetbranwen]

Questionable Morals

TheyWhoWriteAndKnowThings

Chapter 5: The Gunslinger

Masterlist I <- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary:

Desperate for credits, Mando takes a job on Tatooine.

18+ minors DNI.

A little shorter this time, some smut and nsfw stuff. Violence and some modest gore.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

The Razor Crest landed in a small hangar in Mos Eisley, much to Lyn’s continued disdain. The desert planet harboured so many bad memories but she knew why they had to go there, between the dog-fight above the planet, and his desperate need for credits since losing Guild status, Mando needed a fence for the Imp spoils and the guild didn’t operate here so he could pick up some work on the fly as extra income.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

“That’s my line.”

The interaction ran through Lyn’s mind over and over, it was such a smooth quip. She’d always known he had a sense of humour, it was just delightful. Imminent death by dog-fight notwithstanding, she felt pretty damned excited by the whole thing.

“Stay here.” Mando said to the pair of them, the kid nestled in Lyn’s lap. The little green nuisance had really taken a shine to Lyn but he still preferred the Mandalorian so when he watched Din leave a small, whining sigh escaped his tiny mouth. She jostled him gently.

“He’ll be back, it’s ok.” she crooned, trying to soothe the little monster in her arms. She heard a shrill voice from the hangar and chuckled as she heard Din try and negotiate with a clearly strong willed woman that owned the place.

Hours passed and Lyn spent the time playing with the kid, using very rudimentary sleight of hand techniques to move and hide the kid’s favourite metal ball around. It both fascinated and frustrated the little guy and she revelled in it.

“Alright, alright.” She soothed him as the last trick of hiding the ball behind his ears made him more agitated than the rest. She handed the ball back and he giggled with triumph. Lyn raised an eyebrow releasing she may well have been punked by the little man.

The hiss of the hydraulic pistons of the cargo bay door set her heart a-flutter. She realised that she was falling more and more for the Beskar giant and she didn’t mind. The blush crept onto her cheeks as she fingered the Hyenax pendant on her neck. It had been weeks since they lay together, minor fondling and heavy-petting aside. She was desperate to touch him.

He promised a proper bath after this stop.

She was clinging on to that promise like a life-raft.

“I’ve got a job.” Mando sounded irritated, Lyn noted as he relayed the information, “You’re coming with me, it’s not safe here for you, leave the kid.” Mando beckoned with haste, already heading down the ladder to the cockpit. Lyn grumbled at the urgency but followed without question, closing the cockpit door from the outside as she went.

She followed Mando out into the space-port hangar and nodded to the frizzy haired woman that watched from the viewing platform. As soon as they were outside, Lyn realised the kid had motored himself out of the cockpit with ease, bumping against her in his pod as she came to a halt outside of the hangar.

She was still veiled, this time in dark brown robes wrapped around her body and a deep maroon headscarf to obscure her face. A welcome protection against the sandy winds of Tatooine. A young man, only a few years her junior, stood waiting, eyeing the kid and her with suspicion as he addressed Din.

“Got you the speeders you wanted, Mando.” The stranger said with a cocky bravado that had Lyn rolling her eyes.

“I asked for three.”

“You didn’t exactly give me much time Mando,” The bounty hunter shrugged the cocky smirk a permanent fixture on his face, “Besides she can wrap her little arms around me on my speeder.”

Lyn grunted at the younger man and rolled her eyes, he was already proving insufferable, Mando had to be desperate to have taken this job with him.

That’s what happens when you shoot up the Guild on Navarro I guess.

“Hey, can you fence this stuff while we’re gone?” Mando turned to the small woman who was already making the baby gurgle in delight.

“Sure.” She shrugged, “I’ll be taking a cut.”

“Fifty-fifty split, no negotiation.”

“Done, you’ll still owe me for the hangar rental and the work I’m doing.”

“Fine.” Mando said no more, turning towards the speeders.

“Oh and it’ll cost you more to look after the kid!” She called as the hangar door closed behind her. Mando sighed and turned to face Lyn.

“You’re riding with me.” He had already swung his leg over the speeder and Lyn winked at the young bounty hunter as she wrapped her arms around Din’s waist, her hands braced against the lower portion of his chest plate. She winced a little as her splinted wrist was jostled, sending pain shooting up her arm. The remaining E-Bacta in her system meant that it had already started to heal before they left Batuu, but it was spent now, meaning she had to be careful not to let it set wrong.

The high pitched whine of the speeders revving was all around her as they set off. The smell of spice was rich in the air as they cut across the dune sea. Lyn braced her cheek against the hot Beskar of Din’s backplate, grateful for the headscarf as it protected her from the worst effects of the super heated armour.

They rode on for some time, Lyn getting increasingly stiff and bored. The Dune sea wasn’t the best choice of scenery on a long speeder ride. Anything remotely interesting went by in a flash and the dull pain of her wrist constantly distracted her thoughts. The speeders came to a sudden halt and Mando was off the bike in a flash.

Grateful for the break in the beige monotony of the journey so far, Lyn acheily lowered herself onto the sand. The soft shifting motion of the silty surface was an unpleasant reminder of the three days she had spent darting across the Dune Sea, scavenging Black Melons wherever she was lucky enough to come across them. She straightened her back and gritted her teeth, not wanting to show weakness to the cocky bastard that accompanied them. A trick an Imp client had told her about, what he hadn’t told her was that the milk was an acquired taste.

“The name’s Toro, Toro Calican by the way.” The bounty hunter had sidled up to her as he looked out across the ravine below, she flinched as she realised she had been daydreaming. Lyn closed her eyes in frustration, not wanting to interact with him where possible.

This gods-forsaken heat is driving me nuts.

“Lyn.” she grunted back as she took in the view, red-brown cliffs formed a wide canyon, contrasting starkly against the golden sands. A pair of Bantha stood with their riders far into the distance. Other Tuskens wouldn’t be far away she noted, knowing she was ridiculously lucky in her three day race across the Dune Sea to have avoided them.

“You two don’t say much do you?” Toro pried, Lyn and Mando looked at him pointedly in unison but neither responded. Calican shrugged it off, his smirk faltering only slightly as he tried to keep up the manufactured bravado.

“I need Your binocs.” Mando grunted, his hand already outstretched to receive them from Toro.

“Sure.” He shrugged, trying to play everything cool, all the time. It was exhausting. Lyn had met his type man times before, more times than she cared to count,

Mando studied the Bantha and its riders before handing the binocs back to Toro who immediately held them up to his face, posturing as he rambled about the Tuskans. He was loud and offensive but the corners of Lyn’s mouth perked up as she noticed Din turn away from the ravine. Lyn followed his gaze and barked a harsh laugh at the sight of the Tusken Raiders behind them. She quickly signed a greeting to them and they responded in turn. She didn’t know much Tusken but she knew enough to be polite.

“Locals talk about the Tuskens a lot.”

“Tuskens think they’re the locals, everyone else is just trespassing.” Mando grunted, Lyn could hear the smile in his voice, a subtle uplift at the end of his sentence. He seemed to agree with the nomadic people of the Dune Sea. Lyn had never even given it any thought, but she was inclined to side with Din, as usual.

“Well, they should keep their distance.” Toro laughed as he puffed out his chest.

“Tell them that yourselves.” Mando growled as Toro turned and immediately reached for his blaster.

“Relax.” Mando warned him as he signed quickly to the pair of Tuskens. His hands moved faster than Lyn could register as he signed to the raiders, not that it would have done her much good, she didn’t know enough Tusken to keep up.

“What are you doing?” Toro huffed, his chest still puffed out as he came to stand between Lyn and the Mandalorian.

“Negotiating safe passage,” Din answered, not missing a beat in his signing, “Give me your Binocs again.” He ordered. Toro handed them over without a word, his flip-flopping between sickeningly cocky to eager puppy would have been entertaining if it weren’t so pathetic.

Mando handed over the binocs to the Tuskens and they cheered in agreement. The deal was struck. Lyn thanked them with a quick, fumbling sign and the Tuskens grunted in appreciation before beginning to move out.

“Hey, those were brand new!” Toro whined.

“They were, let’s move.” Mando shrugged as he straddled the speeder, waiting until he felt Lyn’s weight rock the bike before striking the ignition. Her hands gripped into the un-armoured flesh of his hips, sick of being stuck to his back in the blistering heat, and made herself stabilise through her core. She felt Din purr at the sensation but he said nothing as they sped on through the desert.

Another hour passed and they came across a dewback dragging a corpse. They stalled their speeders and both men got off the bikes to inspect it, Mando taking point as Toto trailed behind him. Lyn ached, not factoring in just how much the ride would work her deltoids and her core.

“Is it her? Is she dead?” Toro’s voice cracked as he craned his neck over Mando’s shoulder to see. The sound of a tracking fob drifted through the humid air and Lyn froze. A flash of light blinded Lyn momentarily and she realised just a second too late what was about to unfold. She cursed at the tell-tale flash of an unmuffled scope.

“Get down!” She roared but it was drowned out by the sniper bolt that struck the dune to her left but all three of them had managed to escape the bolt this time. They hunkered behind the crest of the dune, all panting heavily at the near miss.

“Well, I’m alright because I’ve got my Beskar, but that had to have been a MK Sniper Rifle to have got us from that far.”

“We don’t have Beskar!” Toro protested and Mando nodded slowly.

“We go at her under the cover of night, it’s too risky in the sunlight.”

“But what if she bolts?”

“She won’t, she’s got the high ground, she’ll wait for us to make the first move. You take first watch.”

Calican grumbled but clearly didn’t need any more convincing. The trio sat under the hot sun and waited it out. Mando passed Lyn a canteen of water and she sipped slowly, not wanting to waste any of their water rations. She settled herself in the meagre shade of the speeder next to Mando and let her eyes close. It was going to be a long night.

***

“Hey,” Din’s soft voice whispered in her ear and she roused immediately, hand flying to Din’s borrowed Vibroblade in her boot the pain shot through her wrist and she cursed, “Woah.” Mando calmed her, his hand holding her elbow gently, taking care to not jostle her wrist.

“Sorry, on edge.” Lyn mumbled as she realised how close he had gotten, a flush of heat warming her cheeks. Her core ached as she stretched and flexed her body, she was far too stiff, far too out of shape.

“It’s ok.” He breathed, his gloved hand rubbing on her bicep as he rested his helmet against her shoulder, the cool Beskar making her shudder in the frigid night air even through the thick robes. The desert chill unforgiving at night.

“How are things looking?” Lyn asked with a gasp as Din pulled her onto his lap in a swift, noiseless motion. They were shielded from the sniper beyond by the speeder, and more importantly to Lyn, from Toro who was snoring on the other side of the bike, turned away from them but hidden just below the crest of the dune from the line of sight of their foe.

“The bounty’s not made a move for a while. I think we’ve got a window to…reconnect before we make our move.” Din purred as he held Lyn against him, his one hand resting gently against her throat, pinning her to him as his other hand already between her legs, the loose robes already riding up around her waist as he felt for her.

“What are you-?” She gasped as she felt the friction on her clit, the thin fabric of her underwear biting against the coarse material of Din’s gloves. The sensation was exquisite and she bit her bottom lip to stifle her moan. The risk of waking Toro was hot, but only because of how risky she knew it was.

“Do you want me to stop?” Din’s grip tightened on her throat and she knew he could feel her moan through his fingertips.

“No.” she breathed, her voice husky as her air supply was limited.

Maker this is too fucking hot.

“Good, because I am having far too much fun.” His hand left her clit for a moment and she whined, “Be a good girl and stay quiet.” He commanded. She felt her underwear being pulled down, slowly, torturously, as her bare ass felt the chill of the night air. The head of Din’s cock slid down the curve of her ass, rubbing against her entrance as he held her there. But he didn’t move, his swollen head poised at her twitching pussy and she mewled pathetically trying to meet him, to push down on him to get the release she so desperately wanted.

“Ask for it.” The command shook her to her core and she squirmed at the sensation of his cock rubbing up and down on her folds, occasionally rocking against her clit. His hands firm on her ass and throat, pinning her in place so she could not move as she was poised over him. Her knees pressed into the cool sand, and she trembled at the heady blend of coarse and blissful sensations.

“Mando.” She breathed as she felt him jolt under her, “Please, I want you.” she begged, her thighs twitching from the overstimulation.

“Not good enough,” He growled as he brought Lyn lower onto his cock, his head just beginning to push into her opening, but going no further.

“Mando please, I’m begging you, fill me up.” She groaned, her desire making her bold, knowing that the language used would elicit something in him. She was right. Mando slammed her down onto his hard cock, the sensation rocking through her as she stifled a cry. His left hand left her thigh and massaged her clit as he thrust up into her, an unrelenting rhythm that made Lyn pant with desire. His grip tightened on her neck and she came hard, the overstimulation of the choking combined with the sheer desperate motion of Din’s hips bucking into hers was too much. Her clit felt abused and raw as Din kept going.

“You cum already?” Din breathed as he continued to pound hard up into her pussy, “You dirty, dirty girl.” He growled as he released her neck, gripping both of her thighs with his large, powerful hands. The coarse language made Lyn spill over into overstimulated ecstasy. Every thrust was like a shockwave as Din rocked his hips up into her soaking wet pussy. It had been too long since he was inside her.

“Mando.” She breathed aimlessly, having to remind herself not to say his name, but she wanted to scream his name, the way his body rocked every time she said it was irresistible.

“A- Lyn.” He choked as he slowed his rhythm, stopping himself from betraying the name she only let him use. She smiled at his restraint and at how he was clearly being driven just as wild by her body as she was with his.

“Bad man.” She purred, humming with achievement as she felt his hips buck involuntarily, she loved pushing him like this. He was always so in control, so sure of himself. It was intoxicating to have such an effect on such a powerful man. The hiss of his helmet in her ear made her jolt, warmth spreading across her chest and down to her already aching cunt. The delicate headscarf was pulled to the side and Lyn could feel his breath on the crook of her left shoulder. His right hand was back on her throat, tilting her head so he had more room to tease her skin.

“I’ll show you bad.” He growled, unmodulated against her skin and like so many times she had forced a snarl from his mouth with her teeth, he returned the favour ten fold. His hot wet mouth kissed the thin, sensitive skin slowly as he began to rock his hips forward, rolling against Lyn as he sucked on the lobe of her ear. She could feel the bottom edge of his helmet against her temple, realising that he had just pushed it up enough to access her with his longing mouth. The smattering of stubble that dusted his chin sent pleasant tremors through her as it dragged across her skin.

“I’m going to come. Mando.” She whispered, his grip tightening on her neck like a vice as he bit down hard bucking his hips up into her as he came hot inside her. The pleasure was unbearable and Lyn couldn’t stop the strangled roar that ripped from her throat. She heard Din laugh through his own exclamation of raw release. Toro stirred at the noise and the pair froze, neither so much as moving a millimetre while they heard him grumble sleepily to himself before his sawing snores filled the air once more.

“Now who’s bad?” He whispered against her skin, their hearts hammering at the sudden risk of being caught out by their unwanted ally.

“Both of us,” She whispered, a wicked grin plastered to her face as she leaned back to feel the crook of Din’s jaw nuzzle down into she sensitive spot just behind her ear, “We’re both fucking bad.” She purred as she moved to touch his jaw absently, but stopped short, knowing that was a boundary she wasn’t sure she could cross.

“Do it.” He whispers against her ear, his voice thick with desire, but it wasn’t sexual this time, it was cloying with emotion, a desperate need. She hesitated for a moment, and it was over, he shifted her forward without a word and the hiss and click of his helmet being secured back in place left her crestfallen. He shifted her in his arms and expertly concealed his soft dick into his trousers before pulling her robes back down over her knees.

“Mando, I-” she began but he wrapped her arms around her, one across her waist and the other crossed over her chest, his hand pulling her by her shoulder into him.

“It’s ok..” He said earnestly as she let herself slowly ease back into the hard Beskar embrace. It was bizarrely comfortable, but she knew it was more about who was cradling her that made her heart swell.

He wanted you to touch him, he asked you to.

Lyn agonised at her hesitation but something told her it was the right thing to do, something held her back even when almost every fibre of her screamed for her to do it.

“Get some rest, we’ll move out in a few hours.” He hummed as he already felt the pull of sleep. Lyn sat with her conflict for a while, drinking in the soft sound of Din sleeping beneath her, the steady rise and fall the most peaceful she ever sees him, and the soft glow warming her heart is amplified by the firm, protective grip that held her to him. She moved with his breathing, a slow soothing rhythm that had her asleep against him, her hands placed softly over his, sparing the pressure on her fractured wrist.

***

Lyn woke suddenly to the desperate urge to pee, she groaned, knowing she couldn’t hold it without risking complications whilst out in the Gods-forsaken desert. She peeled herself away from Din and she knew he stirred as she left him. The not so subtle clink of his helmet catching his pauldron as he watched her go. She skidded down to a lower part of the dunes they had set up camp on. The sound of the dewback grunting in the distance a small comfort in the oppressive darkness of the desert at night. The smell of spice on the air made her stomach roll. Too many bad memories, too many bad trips.

As she hoisted her sodden underwear up around her waist, she felt the cooling moisture of their shared orgasm leaking from her still sensitive folds. It was a miracle they hadn’t kicked up the coarse sand as they fucked. The thought of sand down there made her grimace in imagined pain. She smiled to herself.

The places we’ve chosen to fuck are unconventional.

She thought it was fitting, they were unconventional after all, the least conventional pair in the galaxy, she mused as she turned back to their hiding spot on the dune.

“Sleeping on the job?” Lyn heard Toro crow triumphantly as she made her way back up the sloping sands, she slowed her pace and watched from just behind the crest of the dune. She smirked as she watched the fledgeling bounty hunter spin his pistol around in practised, fancy motions that had no practical use but clearly made him feel good about himself.

Dickwaving infront of a Mandalorian, this kid.

Lyn found herself shaking her head and was about to get up when she heard Din’s modulated voice, in a perfect scathing monotone.

“You done?”

Calican fumbled and almost dropped his pistol as Mando spoke and Lyn let herself giggle at the interaction, it was like a wolf scolding a pup. She fingered the pendant around her neck as she made her way back over to the bounty hunters. Din was already laying down a plan as she took his place by his side.

“We’re going to charge her on the speeders-”

“But she’ll snipe us off them!” Calican protested provoking a sigh from Mando.

“That’s why we’re using these,” Din held up the pair of flash charges in his hand before throwing one to Calican, “We’ll alternate shots to blind her scope so she can’t get a shot off.” Toro nodded, a slight blush creeping under his high cheekbones.

“I’m going to be no help here then.” Lyn shrugged, not happy she had been made redundant but didn’t fancy trading shots with what seemed like a far more experienced sniper. Especially with her wrist the way it was.

“No, not this time,” Mando said with a hint of relief in his tone as he recalled the clusterfuck on Batuu, “Lyn you’re with me.”

“Let’s do this!” Toro exclaimed and Lyn knew Mando was rolling his eyes but said nothing. The trio mounted the speeders and in seconds they were off. Lyn pressed her eyes shut as the speeders lurched forward, bracing for the blinding flash charges. One after another the white flares burned against her eyelids.

Lyn felt the impact before she even heard the sniper bolt hit the speeder. The Dune Sea swelled up to meet her as she was thrown from the bike. Grit and sand rubbed her hands and forearms raw from where her robes had risen up. She had remembered just in time to pin her injured wrist to her chest as she fell, luckily saving it from further harm.

She roused herself off the ground in haste and shared a look with Din as they rose together. Mando bolted up the hill at pace and Lyn followed just a few steps behind him, her muscles aching from the uncomfortable speeder ride.

I need to get my fitness back up.

She scolded herself as she crested the top of the cliff. The blaster bolt came from the darkness and Mando was blown off his feet, the shot missed her by a hair’s breadth and fear hit her cold in the pit of her stomach. She threw herself down, anticipating another shot. Instead she heard Toro shout something intelligible as he pounced on the bounty before she could fire off another shot.

Lyn rolled over to see Mando getting back up slowly, his gaze snapped to her as soon as he had gotten his bearings, she nodded at him and smiled.

“I’m ok.” She mouthed, unable to make a sound without betraying the pain in her voice as her wrist burned, she had landed on it in the dive and it protested with angry throbs. Her headscarf had loosened in the fall and sand flew up her nostrils. She sneezed violently and winced at the acrid sensation in her sinuses.In her perifory she watched as Mando strode up to the bounty and Calican who were still tussling in the sand and pointed his blaster at the woman’s head.

“Enough.” He growled and Toro released his grip and scurried away, “Cuff yourself.” He orders as he throws binders into the lap of the bounty. It’s only then that Lyn saw her face.

Fennec Shand.

Lyn’s world spins as she re-secured the headscarf to try and hide herself but she sees the smirk on Shand’s face as their eyes lock, Lyn continues to cover her face, in the slim chance she hadn’t been recognised, it was dark after all. Lyn watches the assassin from afar as Mando and Calican decide what to do with her. Mando volunteers to go get the Dewback which had bolted when the flash charges had gone off, but he was able to pick up its location on his scanners.

“Stay here, shoot her if she tries anything.” Mando placed his pistol in Lyn’s hand before squeezing her shoulder as he left on foot.

“Might as well get comfortable,” Toro grunted and flashed Lyn a look, “Pretty sure my lap is more comfortable than Beskar.” He growled at her and she was grateful of the headscarf for concealing her blush.

“I’d rather throw myself into a Sarlaac Pit.” She hissed, blaster clenched in her hand as she contemplated shooting the asshole. Fennec’s barking laugh startled her and she looked at the assassin with confusion.

“You’re a feisty one kid, I can see how you escaped Octivar’s grip now.” Fennec flashed her a knowing smile, she had recognised her.

“You were one of Octivar’s girls?” Toro asked in bewilderment, a sleazy grin on his face that shone through the darkness at Lyn.

“No, I don’t know what she’s talking about.” She turned, fear coursing through her.

Maybe staying in Mos Eisley would have been safer after all.

She shook her head, she didn’t think being once again out on the Dune Sea would be so dangerous, the irony not lost on her entirely. It seemed her luck with the unyielding desert had finally run out.

“She was one of Coruscant’s favourite pain girls.” Fennec continued, clearly enjoying watching Lyn squirm.

“Maker be damned,” Toro laughed, “You’re bounty 16402!” The number being said aloud struck Lyn in the chest like a physical blow. It was her number, Vesh’s brand number. She wanted to scream at them both, tell them to stop talking but her mouth opened and closed noiselessly.

“Hey kid,” Fennec’s voice cut through the haze as she addressed Toro, “You know Mando’s wanted for shooting up the Guild on Nevarro right?” Lyn didn’t think her stomach could sink any lower but she was wrong.

“Nah that can’t be him.” Toro waved her off, still fixated on Lyn, a hunger in his eyes she recognised too well. It was as if all notions of decency and honour were off the table. She was no longer a person to him, but an object, a piece of meat.

“They say he’s had a bounty with him, the reason why he shot the guild up, a kid or something.” Fennec continued, she was clever, too clever. She had Calican wrapped around her finger. But Toro’s eyes never left Lyn, a twisted fascination forming there.

“A kid you say?”

“And a girl, seems like he’s been reneging on deals all over the place.” Fennec nodded towards Lyn once more and the spark in Toro’s eyes chilled her to the bone.

“So what you’re saying is I could let you go, and just take in the Mandalorian and his pets?”

“I could always help and we split the prize money?” Fennec grinned, but getting greedy was a mistake. The blaster fired before the assassin could register Calican’s quickdraw. She crumpled to the floor and Lyn couldn’t help but feel a little twinge of remorse at her demise, cuffed, defenceless.

“You’re coming with me,” Toro oozed smug satisfaction as he sauntered over to Lyn, blaster trained on her, daring her to move the hand on Mando’s blaster at her side, “Drop it.” Lyn considered at least trying to get a shot off but Toro fired at her head, clipping her right ear with a devastating burning sensation. Her ears rang and she dropped the blaster involuntarily, the pain too much to bear. She could smell her own cauterised flesh and the burning of her already too short hair.

“Son of a Hutt.” She hissed, her eyes burning from the blaster flash. She couldn’t see a thing out of her right eye and didn’t register the blow until the pain in her temple was the last thing she remembered. Mando’s blaster drops to the sand with a thud and Toro takes his prize.

***

“Kid, hey girlie, you still with us?” Peli’s shrill voice muted by her need to stay quiet. The warm voice was comforting for a moment as Lyn gathered her wits. She was on the Razor Crest, she recognised the mingling smells of Beskar, the oil Din used to maintain it, and the faintest waft of him. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining the last part, but as she opened her eyes she winced. Peli was holding the kid in her arms, sat next to Lyn by the armoury on the ship, but not close enough for either of them to reach for anything.

The kid was fussing and Lyn reached out to him with her good hand, the tiny clawed fingers of both hands grasping onto her index finger as he cooed. She still couldn’t see out of her right eye, it felt swollen shut rather than flash-blind. She hissed as the pain washed over her and her stomach turned. Despite the pain, she didn’t pull away from the kid, for her own comfort as well as his.

“Sorry,” She slurred and turned to look Peli in the eye, the bubbly woman was ghostly pale and her eyes were wide, “I’m with you.”

“What in the Stars is going on?” Peli grumbled.

“Laserbrain bounty hunter double crossed us, the bounty baited him into a frenzy.” Lyn sighed.

“So is Mando coming back for you?” Peli asked, half joking, but there was enough worry in her tone for Lyn to know she was just as scared as she was.

“Gods I hope so.” Lyn hissed, her whole body just a mass of throbbing pain and exhaustion. Calican strides up into the hold and Lyn bristles, her pain forgotten for a second before the glint of a blaster in his hand mutes her. She settles back down and watches the traitor with her good eye as he strides towards Peli.

“Come on, let’s go,” He barks as Peli and as Lyn tries to stand with them he catches her gaze and snarls, “Not you. Sit back down whore.” The slur cuts through Lyn like a knife, she feels a physical ache in her chest as she obeys his command. The years of indoctrination still rooted in her mind like a cancer. Peli took the kid with her, the severing of contact from his grabby little hands as painful as any of the physical wounds she had sustained.

“Took you long enough!” Toro shouts and Lyn’s heart is in her throat and Lyn snaps her head up to see him, standing in the hangar and her heart aches. Din stands firm, his helmet bowed as he slowly regarded Peli and the kid, but you could tell he was searching for you too.

“Where’s the girl?” Mando bellowed, the anger in his voice clear even through his modulator.

“She’s back here,” Toro tilted his head back into the Crest, “I haven’t done too much to her.” He growled.

“Let her go, she’s not part of this.” Mando bartered, steady as he spoke but he stayed where he was, not willing to risk anyone in this hangar. Anyone other than Calican.

“Bantha-shit,” Toro barked and thrust Peli and the kid in front of him, his plaster trained at the back of Peli’s head, “I know all about 16402, drop your blaster.” Lyn notices a twitch in Mando’s posture, it’s subtle, she would have missed it if she didn’t know him so well. The blaster thuds to the sandy floor.

Didn’t know him so well.

The thought cycled through her mind as she realised she was picking up on his tells, the involuntary movements his body made. If she wasn’t terrified for both of their lives she would have felt… proud?

“Alright,” Din answered slowly, “I’ll come willingly.”

“Go. Cuff him.” Toro barked at Peli, riding the wave of his new found power over the people in his custody. Lyn watched with tears in her eyes as Peli did as she was told, the child still in her arms. As Peli brought the cuffs up to Din’s wrists she noticed as his t-shaped visor turned to her, a very slow, purposeful nod aimed at her. She didn’t quite know how but she knew what he meant. She squeezed her eyes shut just in time for the flash.

The white light of the charge burned her eyelids as she cowered in the Crest’s hold. The sound of blaster fire and the thud of a dead body filled her senses. She opened her eyes to try and make sense of it all but her vision was clouded, overworked and scorched from the frequent charge flares. Her right eye wept with blood, the tinny scent filling her nostrils as she sobbed softly. She had had enough, it was just too much.

“It’s ok, I’m here.” The soft, modulated rumble of Mando’s voice broke through the mental haze for long enough for her to collapse in relief, her body going limp in his outstretched arms. The rough fabric of his gloves ghosted on her face, cupping her chin for him to inspect her face. It was welcome, familiar, as she allowed herself to sob into the coarse leather. Her head was in his Beskar-clad lap but it was the most comfortable she could remember ever being.

“I’m sorry I should have-” Lyn began, not really knowing where she was going but she felt like it was her fault, all of it.

“I should be apologising.” Mando said curtly as he pulled her into his strong, possessive embrace. The small three fingered press on her arm made Lyn look up to see the kid’s bottomless eyes boring into her own, the little furrow on his brow eliciting a smile from her broken face.

“I mean, yes,” Lyn giggled, “You should have just strapped me to the co-pilot’s seat and left me here.” Delirium was the flavour of the hour as she sagged against Din. The kid squirmed into the crook of her elbow with a huff and nestled between the pair indignantly.

“You’re insufferable.” He croaked but she could hear the humour in his tone. It was soft and sweet against the backdrop of the clusterfuck that this planet stop had been.

I hate Tatooine.

“That’s rich coming from you.” She breathed but Mando only grunted in response as he held her tight.

“Sleep, we can discuss strapping you down another time.” He finally retorted. Lyn felt the flush of heat at the insinuation at his words, but she was too exhausted to act on it. She fell asleep with her head in his lap, the kid already dozing under her chin. It was the closest she had ever felt to whole, blaster burns, broken wrists, and swollen eye sockets aside, it was pure.

***

“Allyna.” Din’s unmodulated voice washed over her and she roused to the sound, realising quickly that he was at her back, helmetless. The hold was pitch black and the steady, familiar hum of the Crest’s engines soothed her. They were in space, off that cursed planet at last.

“Din,” she breathed, her body unwilling to comply as she tried to prop herself up in the smothering darkness, “What’s going on?” The kid was no longer in her arms which made her feel hollow.

“I’m taking you somewhere nice, but we need to get you up into the cockpit, it’s no good, you, sleeping here on the floor.”

“I can’t move.” She protested, her voice whiny and hoarse, she just wanted to go back to sleep.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you.” Din murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head and she smiled, fighting the urge to look up into his face. She nodded and allowed him to hoist her up into his embrace, he held her against him making sure to rest her good eye against him. She dipped her head under his chin and pressed her lips against the hollow oh his throat. He was warm, really warm.

“Thank you Din, for choosing me over the bounty.” She whispered into his skin, her skin pinching at the corner of her mouth as she felt the spray Bacta pull at the skin around her wound. Her whole body seemed to be covered in liberal amounts of the stuff now she thought about it.

“You can thank the kid for that,” He chuckles, an honest, rich sound that made Lyn hum. Mando entered the cockpit without an issue and he rested against the door with a sigh, “Before him I’d probably have turned you in, but seeing the way he looked at you, well I couldn’t break his heart like that.” The kid was fast asleep in his pod, the shields closed as the soft sounds of his snoring echoed around the sparest cockpit.

“Uh-huh,” Lyn nuzzled against the stubble that trailed down his throat, “Nothing to do with how hot it made you to patch me up after the shower?”

“That had nothing to do with it.” Mando faltered, realising he had admitted to more than he had intended.

“So it did turn you on, tending to a helpless damsel?” She teased, wondering if he had used E-Bacta, or if it was the sheer sleep deprived madness that was overcoming her, that made her so bold.

“And what about you?” Din purred, not missing a beat as he rubbed his bare hand along the curve of her arm, “Did you like being treated so daintily, when you’re anything but?” And the statement shook something loose in her, like a spanner lost to an engine bay in a moment of distraction.

“I… I did.” She admitted softly, warmth flooding her, tinged with fear and apprehension. She wasn’t used to being vulnerable, not around men.

“Enough, sleep.” Mando whispered his tone was full of regret, his arms wrapped so tightly around her. He felt like a line had been crossed, but he didn’t want to let her go. He shifted slightly and pulled at the pile of blankets that resided at the base of the co-pilot’s chair.

His smile was camouflaged by the deep darkness of space and the dimmed lights of the cockpit. He hated clutter, but her blankets, her smell, invading one space he once thought of as his inner sanctum, it was the most at home he had felt in a very long time.

“Night Din.” Lyn mumbled as she balled her fists in the layers of fabric he wrapped her in.

“Night, Allyna.” He breathed, and they stayed there, for how long neither of them could truly tell. But it was a refuge in the storm of the past weeks, a safe haven for them both to just pause. The Crest drifted slowly in the orbit of the desert planet, lazily even. And for a brief moment, the two found the quiet they both yearned for.

____

I hope you enjoyed this one! Reading on AO3 is easier/better formatted but happy to have you here regardless!

- TWWAKT

[bonktime]

Weather The Storm

Chapter 2: Hand Over Fist

Ezra (Prospect) x f!reader (no y/n) 1861 Lighthouse au 

Rated: E (just the whole story)

Previous // Masterlist // Next

Art by the incredible @honestly-shite​ I’m so blown away 🥰💘

Summary: Ezra settles into life in the north but he can’t seem to wrap his head around the keeper. As they dance around each other a clash with another local brings some truths into the light.

Warnings: Language, violence, a boat load of sexual tension, a bunch of victorian sexism, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort? (smut will come)

Note: Written in the 3rd person so i guess you could read as oc? but I never name or describe her, except being short. I had loads of fun writing this! Loads of descriptions of the weather because that’s who I am and also touching. Next chapter will probably be a little late but please forgive me!

Wordcount: 3630

~~~~~~~~~

The wind was like nothing else. Four days at sea and Ezra was fairly sure it was making him deaf. It roared and screamed through the wood of the boat like he's never heard. Rattling anything loose and merging with the groans of the beams and the waves into a great cacophony of noise.

There was a knack to sailing in winds so strong, one he was very glad he'd got the hang of previously else he would probably have been tossed overboard that first morning. Even so the violent movement of the ship beneath him had been a surprise. Any time he put anything down he had to keep a close eye or it would end up on the other side of the room. It made sleep exceedingly difficult when being tossed out of the hammock was a possibility, so he was lucky to get a couple of hours between shifts.

The work was hard and one particularly malicious seagull had made off with a biscuit he had been about to take a bite out of, combined with the lack of sleep and the rolling waves, it had made him irritable at best down right foul at worst. Still, the rest of the crew were likable and only jibed in a good humoured way at the newcomer. And, whenever the bite of the cold got too much, he had a new memory to warm him up. Even so as they came into port on that forth morning, he was picturing that warm bed and the flickering firelight. 

On the walk back along the sea something caught his eye. He stopped to pick it up.

 ⧫⧫⧫

Ezra arrived just as the keeper was leaving the lighthouse. She saw him crossing the causeway, as the sun peeked over the horizon, turning the sky every colour from deep blue to the brightest pink. He waved at her as she waited for him to approach, unable to help but admire her. Dressed in blue, she contrasted against the sky and its reflection in the water. She positively shone. As he got close, he smiled.

"It would appear I was wilfully incorrect about something"

"About what?" She cocked her head at him

"There is colour here. But to witness it you must have patience. "

He took a step closer. holding out his hand "I discovered this on my meander back to your charming abode, I believe you would appreciate it." In her hand he gently placed a chunk of sea glass, worn soft by the sands but still bright deep blue. He stayed close as she held it up to let the sun shine through. She could smell the sea on him, salty and something else. Looking up at him she wondered why he had been so thoughtful. "It's beautiful, thank you" he smiled at her, eyes creasing warmly.

 ⧫⧫⧫

A week passed and they talked in the mornings but their days never seemed to line up so they could only see each other for meals. Ezra spent his evenings in the living room, reading by the fire whenever he was home, and his mornings wandering the coast to distract himself from the woman in the water. 

Once on his walk he met the other keeper. The man had looked exhausted as if he was carrying a weight on his shoulders. He didn't say much, just to give his thanks to the other keeper and then he'd hurried away.

Further down the shoreline he liked to watch the market get set up. Watch the women waiting for the fishing boats to get in, preparing to gut and fillet and sell. He chatted to them sometimes, offering a hand carrying out the tables if they needed it. One girl always gave him a cup of tea after, laughing at his jokes and smiling. She was pretty and definitely would have caught his eye before. But now? He was friendly enough, and polite, but just couldn't work out why he was so uninterested. It wasn't like him. She made a nice friend though, and it was pleasant to get to know someone apart from the keeper even if he wasn't staying too long. And even if he didn't know the keeper all that well.

Ezra mentioned a woman he met at the fishery to the keeper. As much as she knew and liked her, it stung in a way the keeper couldn't quite identify. She was kind and soft and pretty and just the opposite of her. All of her hard edges and bitterness and isolation. But she didn't have any good cause or right to feel envious. Still, she thanked him for the warning, should she come across them together at least she wouldn’t be surprised.

 ⧫⧫⧫

There was another week of only seeing each other in the wee hours before both Ezra and the keeper had a shared day off.

He offered to come with her into town and help carry things. Mostly he just wanted her to show him around which she knew but she agreed anyway.

The sun showed itself as they walked together warming their skin. He watched the keeper raise her head to bask in it, smiling as she tried to explain what she needed from town with him interrupting after every item to ask questions.

She was glowing and it was starting to affect Ezra. Her skirt was pinned up a little above her ankles so it didn't dip in the sand and she'd forgone her usual headscarf and shawl to enjoy the sun. She had laughed at him as they'd left, at all his layers, called him a southern pansy. He'd grinned "Not everyone is so accustomed to this frigid weather. The cold bites those who it has not made an acquaintance with. Not unlike a wary dog."

"If you stayed a few winters here and swam in the North Sea you'd end up as hardy as any of us I reckon" he'd just smirked.

 ⧫⧫⧫

The keeper decided Ezra spoke just the way he did just to confuse people. Every time she’d asked him what a word meant he had grinned, but he did explain without condescension. He had spent nearly an hour chatting away to the grocer when she’d gone to the butcher and the baker. Upon asking, it turned out he had been trying to find a fruit he was fond of, but all the frills in his speech had led to a debate between the owners about what he had meant which he had then stayed quiet during just for enjoyment. When she had gone back to find him he was grinning ear to ear as the two men bickered. She had suppressed a laugh and sorted it out quickly before they had gotten even more irked by the outsider. Ezra had seen the laugh in her eyes though.

The final stop was the bookshop. A small place, stacked floor to ceiling and owned by the keeper’s oldest friend. She was sitting outside in the sun and jumped up wrapping the keeper in a warm hug. 

"Lass you work too fucking hard. I haven't seen hide nor hair of you in Christ knows how long!" 

She grinned; the first time Ezra had seen it. He should make her grin more.

"Aye I'm starting to agree, how're the bairns at this rate they'll have grown a foot before I can see them again. Oh, shit sorry.” She gestured to him “This is my lodger Ezra, Ezra this is Amelia."

He wonders vaguely if everyone the keeper knows can give looks that pierce the soul. He gives the shopkeeper a nod and her face breaks into a smile. As they headed into the shop, clouds began to gather overhead.

"Come on pet, I've got something new I just know you'll love."

The shop seemed ready to burst at the seams. Ezra paroused but couldn’t stop himself listening into their conversation.

“How have you been, really? I worry about you all alone up there.” Amelia asked her eyes full of concern. Ezra subtly rounded a bookshelf so he wouldn’t seem nosey.

“I… Well I’ve been worse like. Every day is easier and I’m not alone at the moment as you’ve seen.”

“You seem to collect sailors, you.”

The keeper laughed “I just like the company! And I like being alone the rest of the time as you well know.”

“Oh aye the company. Nothing to do with,” Amelia lowered her voice “I divn’t nah… the roguishly good looks? You always loved a bit of trouble, dafty that you are”

“Hey! He just rents the room, we’re… friends I guess.” Ezra wished he could see her to gage how she really felt.

“Sure you pet.”

 ⧫⧫⧫

20 minutes later they left, a copy of Great Expectations wrapped carefully in tissue paper and stowed at the bottom of her bag, surrounded so it would stay dry should it rain. As they stepped out a woman seized the keeper's arm, she was accompanied by the vicar and glaring viciously. The keeper swallowed and introduced Ezra, he saw how uncomfortable she was, how her mood had changed since just minutes before.

"The ever elusive keeper shows herself yet again" the vicar speaks, face impassive, "I thought you might have died since you don't attend church, perhaps you'd met god's reckoning after… being so loose with your commitments." 

Ezra watches her jaw clench "I have told you before, when I work the night, I cannot attend in the morning."

The other women smirked "Work the night is one way of putting it." She eyed Ezra.

The vicar sighed "It is disappointing you disobey god's will. Your father should have married you off while he had the chance. Then your husband would keep you in line. If he could see you now, he'd be so ashamed"

Ezra froze but before he could react, he saw the rage pass over her face, fiery and passionate. She couldn't help it, she saw red, couldn't stop herself. She punched the vicar square on the nose.

The other woman shrieked. "What is wrong with you? You've hurt him!" Indeed, blood did start to drip out of his nose but he straightened himself up and grabbed the keepers arm pulling her close and raising his fist to strike.

"You're nothing but a worthless little whore. It's no wonder your sailor left as soon as you-" he was cut off by Ezra's fist, catching his jaw and sending him sprawling.

"I will not abide you speaking to the lady in this manner." He shook out his hand, and stepped over him, bending to seize his hair and pressing his blade to his neck "And to strike her?" He scowled down at the man who was opening and shutting his mouth like a fish. "What is that mantra you holy men spout? Turn the other cheek." The keeper's jaw dropped, she had known Ezra was rough around the edges but to strike a man of God, to threaten him, for her?

Against the incoming storm, it was as if he'd grown. Become huge and monstrous and brutal in a way she hadn't seen, a glimpse of what lay beneath all his beautiful words and pleasant disposition. It moved something in the keeper, something dangerous. Not many people would far defend her, let alone in such a way. 

Lightning flashed overhead forking down to meet the sea, in the light she could see the hard glint in his eye, the one he'd worn when they'd first met, even as he smiled. This was a man who had done far worse and all she could feel was grateful. It squeezed around her heart.

"I suspected as much. You must have forgotten yourself for a moment." Ezra stood and pulled the vicar to his feet, squeezing his arm harshly still baring that viscous grin as he pulled him close and murmured "I'd truly hate for you to suffer another grievous lapse in judgement, who knows what may become of you."

The keeper looked at the other woman "Judge not lest ye be judged? You had better pray for forgiveness.” She stepped forwards shoulders back as thunder rumbled around them “There's a storm coming and your husband works the water. I'd hate for the lord to compel me to make an error." The woman gasped at her a cold glare. Ezra looked at the keeper as she straightened out her dress. He could have laughed at her nonchalance, it gave him pause, how he saw her quiet power. She would make quite the foe. She gave Ezra a nod and he took her arm as they walked away.

He can feel how tense she was through her arm, despite her calm demeanour panic and anxiety were coming off her in waves. They walked back along the beach in silence as the heavens opened, pouring rain down around them. Ezra frowned to himself, perhaps with all the flitting around he had forgotten how to behave. Had lost some of himself, every old sin chipping away at his humanity was taking its toll. He'd come here for some fucking quiet, why did he always find trouble, or make it? Perhaps those years… he wasn't good. Punching a priest though? The keeper was a menace.

Half way he stopped turning her to look at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were married?" she looked away from him at the waves. White horses were being blown, throwing spray up into the air.

"I never was. He left before we could."

The rain beating down made it hard to look up at him, it dripped into her eyes and ran down her face like tears. The rain and thunder were near deafening as he looked at her face, saw the pain and the other emotion, the one he can't identify.

"What happened?" He nearly has to shout to be heard over the storm and the waves. Reaching for her, taking her hand and feeling the calluses on her fingers.

"What always happens! I fell in love, and I thought he did too. But after, after we. He did what sailors always do." she threw off his hand and stepped back, the sea lapping at her ankles.

"What is it sailors always do? I do not appreciate you painting us all with such broad strokes." Now he's shouting, a bit out of frustration but mostly to be heard as the wind begins to howl, merging sea spray and rain until the only thing he could see was her.

"He sailed away!" She was suddenly very grateful for the rain; he couldn't see the tears that had rolled down her face. He frowned at her a deep furrow in his brow. "And so, he's right! I am a whore and probably everything else too." She looked wild, wind whipping her skirt to and fro. She glared at him, daring him to judge her. "I was relieved! I didn't want to marry him, he wanted to leave and I didn't. I enjoyed what we did!" She pressed her palm to her forehead. No idea how he would react. "He could’ve said goodbye" she whispered it, let the crash of the waves muffle the sound.

To her surprise he tugged her hand away from her face, looking into her eyes, jaw set, rain plastering his hair to his head.

"Let's go home."

Keeping her hand gently clasped in his he led her along the beach to the island.

 ⧫⧫⧫

Both of them were soaked to the bone by the time they had re-entered the cottage. Ezra could feel the keepers hand trembling in his.

"Go change out of that wet garb, I'll light the blaze in the living room and set the water to boil"

She nodded and entered her room as he did his own. He quickly pulled off his wet clothes and tugged on a fresh shirt surprised to hear her call out to him.

"Ezra, can you help me?"

He entered her room slowly, still only in his long shirt, taking it in. The bed was wide enough for two and had as many blankets as his own, there was a small wardrobe and a chest and a stack of books on a bedside table. On top of which he saw the glass he'd given her, not yet added to the chime in the window.

She was in her corset and chemise, back to him, dripping onto the rag-rug on the floor.

"I can't seem to," she was reaching behind herself. "With it wet and my damn swollen knuckles I can't loosen the tie. Please, can you help?"

He swallowed thickly as she looked back at him then away. Gently he reached for her, big hands and nimble fingers beginning to loosen the knot. "I'll take a look at that hand if you would allow me, check you haven't done any tangible damage." She nodded.

As he finished, he couldn't help brushing his fingers across the bare skin of her shoulder. It was soft and warm under his cold fingers. She stiffened slightly and turned to him, looking up at his face. His frown remained but that steely glint was gone, giving way to wide sad eyes. She looked at his hands, big, strong and bruised. She took one in her own, inspecting the cut across his knuckles.

"You needn't hurt yourself in defence of me, I shouldn't have hit him." She gently rubbed her thumb over the swelling to check her hadn't dislocated anything and tried to ignore how he tensed.

"I could not abide his hurting you, not with his words and certainly not with his fist" he turned her hand mirroring her gesture to feel her knuckles, they were swollen but nothing felt out of place. He kept a hold of her hand as he looked back up at her face.

She looked into his eyes, deep and dark enough to fall into. They stared back into hers without hesitation. She held his hand for just a moment longer before letting go. As she did, he turned and left, closing the door gently behind him.

He didn't give her the chance to thank him.

 ⧫⧫⧫

When she had dressed and headed down stairs, Ezra was pouring tea, he looked up. She was still dishevelled and shivering a little.

"Come on, let's get warmed up"

He led her through to the living room and sat her down on the rug in front of the fire handing her a cup of tea. Sitting down across from her he spoke, his legs brushed hers as he stretched out but he didn’t move away.

"What I cannot apprehend is why you don't want to depart this glacial place. You are not treated compassionately and there are locations all over with preferable climates."

She gave a small smile. "Because I like it here, it isn't perfect but I have my friends and my work and my home and where would I go? How well do you think the world would treat a woman like me?"

He shrugged, "People may surprise you. They have me on many occasions. I even astonish myself sometimes"

"Or they'll behave exactly as they always do. People are predictable like that." She sighed and sipped her tea. The warmth of the fire finally took an effect. "It seems we are at an imbalance. You know plenty about me, although not because I wanted you to. How about you tell me where you got that accent?"

He grinned. "I suppose I can reveal a little information. If only for the sake of equality."

So, he told her. Told her about his home, his mother, about when she passed. How he had to work to survive and found that he didn't get seasick. He picked up words and dialect wherever he went, combining them with his own until he wasn't sure what he used to sound like. She had laughed at him upon learning he wasn't a strong swimmer. 

"I can't believe you haven't been thrown overboard and drowned yet! You're unbelievably lucky!" He'd loved the sound.

He missed out a lot of the more unsavoury details of the work he’d done but the whitewashed version was honest enough. How going back to where he grew up still hurt, he had only visited once. Instead, he travelled, worked, and enjoyed himself.

"I don't know. You said I must be lonely here but you, you travel alone. You can't make good friends, you've no home to return to." She watched his face. "It seems you're far more alone than I am"

His brow furrowed "We can agree to disagree on that."

"And I still don't understand why you're here. Why aren't you somewhere warm?"

He shrugged and avoided the question, "If I wasn't, I would not have had the astounding pleasure of meeting you."

She frowned at how he ignored her question, but brushed it off.

The rain was finally beginning to ease as Ezra dozed off. Sitting on the floor slumped against the chair by the fire. He looked peaceful, no shadows playing behind his eyes, so she didn't wake him. Instead as the sun dipped, she laid a blanket over him and went to light the light.

The winds had made for a tense shift. Always keeping a weather eye on the sea for ships that might have got into trouble but eventually the sun rose and she stopped the clockwork and went back to the cottage.

Ezra had already left to get to The Mistress and she was surprised at the slight sting that they hadn't got to say goodbye. Next time she'll wake him.

She was even more surprised by how much she missed his company.

~~~~~~~~

Glossary

Hand over fist: Going forth rapidly in an endeavour, comes from ‘hand over hand’ when climbing the rigging.

Bairns: Kids, affectionate

Divn’t nah: Don’t know, couldn’t not include this

Dafty: fool, idiot, affectionate

~~~~~~~~

Taglist

Ezra

@fandom-blackhole

WTS

@something-tofightfor

Because I crave validation

@danniburgh

[silverfootstepswrites]

Amaryllis | Chapter 17

Act Two

A flower for me 

< Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 >

+++

"Are you alright?"

Naruto jerked upright in the pew. The cool air stung his dry eyes. He dragged the back of his wrist along his face for a moment. When he pressed hard enough, he saw little spots of color against the inside of his eyelids.

He squinted at the shape speaking to him. Light filtered in through the colored glass in the temple windows. The shards were blue, red, and gold. They scattered broken rainbows across the stone floors without brightening the room completely.

But then the high priestess took a step forward. She landed in a ray of rose-colored light. Her hands folded together in front of her. The edges of her long purple sleeves swallowed up her hands.

A panicked noise slipped out of his lips as he tried to sit up straighter.

"Ah, yes. I mean- sorry. Was I- am I in the way?" he rattled out as he dragged his hands through his messy hair. But the stubborn spikes slipped through his fingers. They stuck up in any way they pleased.

The priestess took another step forward. A smile touched her lips as she extended a hand to him. In this new slant of light, he caught a glimpse of her milky, unmoving irises. Her eyes turned upward, although her smile was for him.

"That voice. You must be our young Prince Naruto," she said.

Naruto took her hand in his. Her narrow fingers were cool against his palm. He pressed the back of her hand against his lips. The scent of incense hung heavy over every inch of her skin. Slowly, he released her, pads of his fingers sliding against her knuckles.

"And you're the…uh…" he stumbled over his words.

"The High Priestess. Most people address me as such, but you may call me Hinata," she interrupted, ending his fumbling.

Naruto looked down at his feet for a moment. When he looked up again, she was tucking some of her hair behind her ear. The slide of her clean nails against her dark hair entranced him.

It was like lightning had struck him at that precise moment, wiping out any other thought in his head. The shy curl of her smile. The soft lilt of her voice. They seared into his brain.

"It…it's great to meet you," Naruto heard himself say.

+++

"Are you alright, Lady Sakura?”

Sakura squinted against the rays of the morning sun. The heavy fabric wrapped over her hair and neck shielded her from the worst of the heat. Sweat gathered in her hairline. Droplets scattered down the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades.

A warm drop wormed its way down her throat, sliding down her chest.

Her gaze blurred as it adjusted to the glaring light. She finally made out Gaara's fuzzy silhouette seated atop his camel. He was just as wrapped up in various cloths to protect his skin. There was a small strip of red across the bridge of his nose. The fabric just failed to cover his skin completely. Freckles begun to spread across his face; little kisses from the sun.

Sakura smiled at him under her muslin veil. It draped across her nose and cheeks, covering everything from her neck to just below her eyes. She knew that he wouldn't be able to see her mouth, but he could see her eyes squint into half-moons.

She hadn't expected their trek across the desert to be so slow. Sakura was accustomed to the frantic thunder of horseshoes against packed earth. The wind was always cold, whistling past her ears, sharp and stinging at her cheeks. Her thighs had grown powerful, molding against the trembling back of her steed. Even as she thrust and parried her sword, her muscles had held her down with a firm grip.

But now she felt helpless on the back of an ill-tempered camel. It glared at her from underneath long, long eyelashes. She tried her best not to take offense to this, as the beast seemed to eye everyone with the same obvious disdain. The layers of fabric on its back made it bearable to sit upright as the creature trudged through the desert. Just bearable. The lack of leather straps and places for her to hold on made her hands clench and unclench at each jolt and bump.

The trouble was that Sakura had nothing to do. Her hands curled around the reins. But the guides at the front of the caravan led the camels along in some invisible but sure path. Now all she could do was stare down at the sunburn along the backs of her hands.

"Shall we ask to stop so we can rest in the shade, Lady Sakura?" Kankuro called out to her from a couple camels ahead in the line. He had raised the cowl of his outer shirt to cover the lower half of his face. Lowering it for a moment, he flashed her a smile.

"I'm quite alright," Sakura insisted.

Seated behind him were Suigetsu and Mangetsu, who she would have mistaken as corpses had Mangetsu not moved.

They had come to her not too long after a letter had arrived from Princess Mei of the Terumi family. Slipped right past the guards and in through her window.

Sakura noticed only when Kankuro nearly upset the table when he jumped. Temari brandished her spear, glaring. “You can’t just enter a lady’s room like this,” she growled.

And Suigetsu had smirked as he replied, “But the lady’s dogs can.”

Sakura didn’t understand why the brothers had insisted upon accompanying her during this trip. She would have been fine with them resting at the Diamond Oasis until she returned.

“I hate this!” Suigetsu reminded her, not for the first time that day.

“Yes, Suigetsu. I’m aware,” she replied as she reached for the wineskin. Just to wet her throat for a moment.

The sun was a punishing force on top of her head. Even drinking from the skins hooked onto the sides of her saddle did little to help the heat. But she stole a glance at Temari riding the camel behind her. Temari's shoulders slouched. Her spear rested against her left shoulder. The sharpened point almost skimmed the tops of the highest piles of sand. She barely jostled with each step the animal took.

Further up ahead, Kankuro lounged against the hump of his camel. There were several carpets rolled up and bound to the back of his saddle. He lay on these, his arms crossed behind his head and his headscarf pulled low to cover his face.

For these two, this was a method of travel that they still remembered. Temari and Kankuro were old enough to recall a childhood roaming these sands. Only Gaara was too young to remember. And only Gaara, too, seemed to struggle to find something to occupy his time, just like she did.

The caravan spent eight days stomping across the dunes.

They stopped late in the morning before the sun grew too hot. The guides Prince Ebizo had hired took care of everything without being asked. They set up tents with wooden poles they drove deep into the sand. They draped heavy sections of cloth over these structures to block out the heat. It was much cooler inside one of these shelters. They waited for the withering heat of the midday sun to pass before they resumed travel.

Once the sun began to set, they set up camp. As soon as light faded from the sky, so did the warmth. Sakura learned quickly that the desert was also bitterly cold. One tent was just large enough for the entire party to share a meal. They sipped from wineskins that grew lighter with each passing day. The dried figs had an odd texture, but the sweetness was a welcome treat.

When it was time for bed, the guides slipped out into their own tent. Together with her cousins, and her two guards, Sakura settled in for the night. Kankuro and Temari slept closer to the mouth of the tent. Temari's hand always rested on the handle of her spear. She took to occasionally kicking her brother when he rolled too close to her. Gaara often curled up against Sakura's side for warmth.

At first, Kankuro balked at the idea of the two mercenaries sharing quarters with them.

But Suigetsu had yawned at the prospect of laying hand on either lady. “Both would behead me if I so much as breathed indecently. It’s too hot to think of wasting energy like that,” he said, flapping a dismissive hand at Kankuro.

Suigetsu and Mangetsu laid directly at the entrance. Where even the lightest stir of footsteps sent one of them slipping out past the canvas. In the end, Sakura and her cousins barely even noticed their presence. By dawn, the mercenaries were already gone- their bedrolls folded and ready for travel.

At night, sand-battered and weary, they fell asleep with little conversation. The odors of dust and sweat lingered inside the tent each night. Staring up at the ceiling, Sakura wondered how people had thrived in a harsh world for so long.

"Can't we move faster?" Sakura sighed one night. Kankuro's eyes were already closed. But when Temari nudged him with her foot, he sighed.

"We could pick up the pace, Lady Sakura. But camels die quickly under such strain. These men want their animals to live for a long time so they treat them with care. Consider these camels a precious 20-year investment," he mumbled. His words slurred together as sleep pulled at him.

There was a long silence. Sakura was certain that he had fallen asleep. But then Kankuro broke the quiet again.

"Should I still ask, Lady Sakura? I'm certain that they would make an exception for your sake," he queried.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed by her selfishness, she turned onto her side. Gaara slumbered without a care in the world. She ran her thumb along his dark, thick eyelashes and watched him shift a little.

"No need," she answered.

As they drew closer to their destination, Sakura eyed the heavy baskets on each camel's back.

"Why bring these?" she attempted to ask one of the guides during a break. The man's face pinched as he considered her words. When she patted one of the baskets, his wrinkled face lit up. He clucked his tongue while pointing towards their destination.

"A woman like her, you must shower with gifts. She is of the old ways. One does not enter a home with empty hands,” warned the older man.

By the time they reached the little city in the wilderness, Sakura had ideas. She had imagined several times what this daughter of the Terumi family was like. What she hadn't thought to expect, however, was just one woman standing at the city gate.

There were no guards flanking her. She wore a simple brown shawl to shield the top of her head from the sun.

"Welcome, my kin, to our humble city. We are all honored by your presence," she announced in a soft, clear voice. As she bent to one knee in a bow, Sakura lowered her head on reflex. When Mei rose to her full height, Sakura could see that the other woman was much taller. Her shawl twisted around to cover the lower half of her face. Sakura could see the ghost of her lips moving behind the fabric.

"You have come a long way. Please, allow me to lead you to my home," she continued. The ends of her dark blue dress swished across the coarse sand as she turned. As the caravan followed her, Sakura pulled Gaara close by the elbow to whisper into his ear.

"This is the eldest daughter of the Terumi family?" she questioned. Gaara nodded, though his gaze also darted warily to the woman's back.

"She's unexpectedly..." Gaara mused.

"Subdued," interjected Kankuro in an equally quiet voice as he ducked his head between them.

"Do you suppose it's a ploy?" Temari wondered without turning around to look at them.

"What would be the purpose of that?" scoffed Kankuro. Temari glanced back for a moment to glare at him.

"To lull us into a false sense of security," she snapped in return.

"To do what, then? Attack us? The clan would eviscerate her. They're all about blood ties," Kankuro hissed back.

"It is true that as kinsmen, the Terumi family cannot harm us. It is a code of honor, Lady Sakura. Even more now that she has invited us into her home," agreed Gaara into Sakura's ear. They walked in quiet for several more steps.

There was a light tug on Sakura’s elbow. On the opposite side of where Gaara stood. She started a little when she glimpsed Mangetsu peering at her from beneath his hood.

“Your brother?” she asked.

“Checking the perimeter. He will rejoin us shortly,” Mangetsu murmured, lips barely moving. His eyes darted around, checking behind her.

Something clicked in Sakura’s mind.

Kisame was a mercenary. Hired muscle and steel.

These two brothers, while part of Kisame’s band, weren’t mercenaries by nature. The way they picked locks and moved silently in the night. They must have been thieves or even assassins before they had crossed paths with the enormous blue man.

“What are your orders?” demanded Mangetsu.

"Observe for the time being," Sakura declared. She knew that when she looked back, Mangetsu would be gone.

The party followed the strange woman past the city gates and through the dusty streets. It was late in the afternoon. The sun had dipped a little lower in the sky. It was cool enough for business to resume after a midday break. The streets were busy with women carrying baskets atop their heads. Men clustered around stalls to haggle over chickens and textiles.

The Terumi family's "palace" was less of a palace and more of a large house. Like every other building, the outside used mud and stone to keep the interior cool. But there was no ornamentation to indicate that someone important lived there. It was just larger than most other abodes. The simplicity was both unexpected and unusual. Mei opened the front doors herself before striding inside.

"I'm back. Some water and perfume  for our guests," she called out while whipping her head covering off. The motion sprayed sand across the clean tile floors. Sakura lingered in the entrance for a moment, taking in the room first. Just like the outside, the inside of the building was modest. Only a few large tapestries covered the otherwise drab walls. As Mei spoke, one servant appeared. She gestured with both hands down the left side of the hall before she began walking.

Sakura glanced over at their hostess. Mei was already heading off into the opposite direction. So she followed the servant into a room furnished with a square wooden table and several padded mats. The servant bowed before she exited without another word.

Yanking his cowl down, Kankuro puffed out a large breath. He wrinkled his nose.

"This is... not what I expected," he commented as he looked around the dim room. The oil lamp on the table didn't do much to illuminate the space. Temari huffed too as she shed her outer layers of fabric and shook her hair free. She wiped at a smudge on Gaara's cheek, ignoring his impatient squirm.

"Please, our princess asks that you use this time to rest and to refresh yourselves. The evening meal will be served in two hours precisely," a veiled woman said, kneeling in the doorway. Everyone jolted at the sudden presence. Somehow, she had managed to soundlessly bring a golden bowl and matching pitcher.

Sakura sighed, long, low, and soft. As her gaze turned to the window, she reached into the folds of her cloak. She pulled out a wineskin still warm from the sun.

Slowly, she tugged at one end of the knot on her neck. The fabric slackened, falling across her eyes. And then, the veil tumbled free of her face, whisking the dry scent of the desert past her nose. She took her time drinking, gaze never leaving the sight of the street outside. A line of little girls trailed after their mother. They were little ducklings in a row, each holding a basket of laundry atop their heads.

"You should rest, Lady Sakura. It's been a long journey," murmured Gaara. Kankuro settled onto a padded mat in the corner with a groan.

"Perhaps," Sakura replied without hearing. She drummed her fingers against her thigh as she thought. Only when someone touched her knee did she finally tear her eyes from the window.

Gaara set the bowl down at her feet. He poured from the pitcher, filling it with clean water. Pushing his sleeves up past his elbows, he began unknotting the laces of her sandals.

Her feet were ashy and caked with layers upon layers of dust. They resembled those of a corpse more than anything else. But until Gaara pulled her shoes off and held her left foot in his hands, she didn't realize how much they ached. The ceaseless spray of stinging sand against her skin had worn it down.

He lowered her foot into the basin. The dust melted off her skin, swirling in the waters until it turned everything muddy brown. And as the filth left her feet, they both saw the tiny cuts in her skin from where the leather sandals had chafed her skin. There were tiny cuts too, from where maybe a small rock had struck her. His hands moved, gentle, massaging her feet. He cleaned between even her toes. And he washed her other foot with the same diligence.

It had grown oddly quiet in the room.

The silence was only broken when the veiled servant stepped forward with a clean towel. Gaara spread it out in his lap before he placed her feet there and began patting them dry. The servant knelt beside him, staring at him for a long moment.

"With all respect... typically it is the job of the servants to do such an unclean task. You too are a guest here, sir," she informed him. But Gaara never took his eyes off Sakura's feet. Even when they were clean, he let them sit in his lap for a moment longer. When he lifted his head, Sakura was also watching him.

"Who would I trust to honor the feet of my lady as I would?" he asked in return. Sakura held his gaze for a long time. Her palm cupped his cheek for a moment before her hand slipped away.

The servant proceeded to wash the feet of everyone else in the room. Sakura leaned her head against the windowsill to listen to the chatter of life outside. No matter where she went, no matter what the language was, the chaos of the marketplace was home. It brought her back to easier days of receiving sun-warmed mangoes. Only now, those memories included the feeling of a hand grasping hers.

"Please enjoy your rest," the servant said before she exited. Sakura blinked. She had fallen asleep for what had felt like a significant time. But Kankuro was still talking with Temari in the corner. Gaara's head rested in her lap but his eyes were wide open. Feeling her stir, Gaara's eyes drifted to her, the color of unpolished jade.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

She considered this for a long time. Answering him with a smile, she pinched his cheek, just a little.

"Of course," she assured him.

+++

"Use my weight against me!" the instructor shouted.

A chorus of laughter rose as the world spun underneath him. Itachi landed on his back with a hard thud. The gathered mercenaries guffawed even as several of them approached to offer him a hand. Itachi accepted one, letting them pull him to his feet. He winced, pressing his hand to his left shoulder.

"Maybe I was too rough with you, Prince," wondered the instructor.

"Not a problem, Teach! This one's tougher than he looks," Kisame shouted back. He let out another roaring laugh as he clapped Itachi on the back with his massive hand.

"Well, if he can learn to throw a man half as well as he can be thrown, there's hope for him yet," sighed the instructor.

There was another explosion of mirth among the men.

"No doubts, Prince. You're filling out already," boomed Kisame as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"I appreciate your help, but are you entirely certain that this is necessary?" inquired Itachi. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and saw blood. He wiped again. But it did little to help. Cuts and scrapes dotted his hands. And any place that wasn't cut seemed to bruise instead.

"Your Highness did ask to be made stronger. I don't know of any faster way than to have the weakness beaten out of you," shrugged Kisame. To emphasize his point, he rolled up his sleeve to show off the jagged scars on his wrists.

"Broke out of chains with my bare hands. Swam for almost an hour until I reached land," he explained. Any hint of a smile wiped from Itachi's face at that. Yet Kisame appeared unbothered as he continued with his toothy grin.

"Have heart, Prince. We'll make a rugged man out of you yet!" Kisame grunted. He clapped him once on the shoulder again before he swaggered off. A servant approached with a towel. Itachi accepted it with thanks, wiping the sweat and dirt off his face and the back of his neck.

“Should I ask for the physician?” the servant queried.

“There’s no need. I will see him later myself,” answered Itachi. The servant bowed.

“She’ll hate this. I’m telling you. She would kill me if she knew I was standing by and watching this.”

Itachi turned to face Ino, who winced as she looked over his collection of injuries. Itachi nodded to her, grimacing as he discovered a gash on the palm of his hand. He wrapped the towel around it.

“She wouldn’t kill you, Lady Ino,” Itachi assured her.

Ino sighed, eyes rolling. “Alright, no, she wouldn’t kill me. She’d just stare at me. And the guilt would kill me,” she amended.

Itachi chuckled at that. He rubbed the corner of his mouth. His hand came away wet with more blood. He looked over as he saw Ino fumble in her pockets. She pulled out a fine silk handkerchief. He thanked her as he used it to dab the blood away.

“A prince such as yourself has little to fear. I don't understand why you spend so much time being assaulted. It’s the job of other people to protect you,” she pointed out.

Itachi thought that over. When he regarded Ino again, it was with a sad sort of smile.

“Lady Ino, I was told my entire life that I would never be strong enough to ride a horse. Or to travel. I was warned that I might not even live past 20,” he told her. Ino’s face softened. She had been there at the meeting. She knew the truth behind his poor health.

“It turns out that I could have been strong enough. I just…” Itachi trailed off, looking down as he clenched and unclenched his injured hand. His knuckles were covered in scratches.  His hand squeezed into a fist. Stayed that way. “I’ve wasted enough time being deceived. I need to be better from now on.”

He had remembered Sakura explaining once. Because she was smaller and lighter than most of her opponents, she had learned a way to use that to her advantage. Her combat techniques relied on speed and maintaining balance. Stronger opponents were weighed down by their muscle. Fortunately, this was a speciality of the Southern Tea Isle. The servants had been more than happy to find a teacher for him. And even Count Maito was eager to provide pointers whenever he dropped in for business.

It had been about a month since Itachi had begun his lessons. Each session seemed to consist of him being beaten up. His body ached.  He didn’t feel himself moving any faster.

“Persistence,” Count Maito had assured him was, “the key to growth.”

As Itachi rubbed his hands together, he let out a sigh.

“I’m just… I’ve grown tired of feeling…” he trailed off.

“Helpless,” Ino supplied.

His eyes widened. It was like she had read his mind. She gestured at herself with a fan.

“It’s not like I can’t sympathize,” she added.

They exchanged a smile. Ino’s face was the first to change as the conversation processed in her brain. She gestured to Itachi’s injured hand.

“It’s not for her,” Ino realized.

Itachi let out a sheepish laugh as he clenched his hand into a fist again. “It’s for me,” he confirmed.

A passing serving girl spotted the bloody towel wrapped around Itachi’s hand. She stopped with a gasp.

“My Lord. That…” she seemed at a loss for words.

Itachi looked down. “Oh. Yes. Would you send word to Yashamaru that I’m on my way,” he requested.

“Right away, My Lord,” she answered before hurrying off. In her rush, she nearly collided with a chest.

“My apologies!” she squeaked, bowing low.

“It’s alright. You seem to be busy. Don’t let me stop you,” Count Hatake said, waving her off. The girl bowed once before she went ahead.

+++

Kakashi watched the frantic servant rush on before he continued walking. He glimpsed Prince Itachi chatting with Lady Ino. They were chuckling about something. When his eyes met Ino’s, they exchanged bows. Before Itachi could turn around, he continued walking. He wasn’t particularly interested in speaking with the visiting prince. And he had an appointment.

Sasori was in a meeting when he arrived. The steward apologized and offered to bring him a refreshment. Kakashi didn’t decline. So instead, he sat in one of the pavilions, listening to the lap of the waves against the sides of the room.

Kakashi took a single sip of his unsweetened tea. He then leaned back in his seat, fingertips tenting together. When he looked all around the palace, he could hear the memory of Sakura's voice in his ear.

Kakashi. That's a good name.

She had known of him by then. After all, Kakashi had been a shadow in his father's footsteps then. For years, he had watched the way a count was supposed to serve under a duchess. Sakura had always chatted merrily with his father, Sakumo. When she was a child, it had been about idle facts about the state of the island, the weather. As she grew, as that posture stiffened and the roundness in her face faded, she talked strategy. She talked of politics and war.

But Sakumo had withered away, and his mother had died giving birth many years ago. Kakashi was alone. And alone the duties of the count had fallen upon him.

“Kakashi, will you be as good to me as your father was?”

"Of course," he had promised her.

“Even if it leads to ruin?”

He hadn't had an answer for that. Still didn't.

He thought back harder, eyebrows knitting as he worked to bring all the pieces of her together.

When she was a girl, she had often marveled at the uniforms of the high-ranking officers that visited.

"Father, there are different colors," she had whispered, tugging at the King Consort's fingers. And the King Consort let out a deep chuckle. Lifting her up on his left arm, he gestured to one of the officers.

"The army, do you see? It's green. And the navy wears gray. Only the officers get to wear white," he explained.

Kakashi listened too, his eyes fixated on the men and their pressed clothes. He had often admired his own father's uniform. The count was too old for battle now, but it was still on display in their home.

"But Father, why do only some people get to wear white? That's not fair," remarked Sakura. The rules of sharing and equality were clear. The Queen had explained them quite explicitly. But Jiraiya only sighed as he stared at the uniforms too.

“White is the most visible on the battlefield. Easier to hit, don’t you think?”

He recalled her, just a year after the end of the war. Her scars were still healing in raw patches under her clothes. The dry, rough strands on her head had finally started to regain their sheen. Her dress did nothing to hide the bandages around her arms and middle.

She was beautiful; there was no denying that. Her mother's face shone through in the curl of her smile, the light in her eyes. As she spoke, her hands moved through the air. It terrified him. How much she resembled her mother. And how much she sounded like her aunt, who had swept her under her wing like a trembling baby bird.

In other ways, she was her father. After time in the military academy, her shoulders seemed to be forever pulled back. There was a proud urgency in her gait that pulled her along in brisk strides. She always seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere these days. The arms of her white jacket were always empty. As if putting her hands through them would burn her. She draped the garment across her shoulders, brass buttons and fastenings gleaming proudly.

Medals of all shapes and sizes cluttered the left side of her jacket. The newest was a proud gold lion holding an arrow in its teeth. For distinguished services and exceptional loyalty to the crown. (Lord Sasori had remarked upon the irony of such an award with bitterness for quite some time. Kakashi almost wanted to laugh with him.) Next to it was a silver diamond shape with a real diamond gem set in the center for bravery in combat. They clattered against each other each time she took her jacket on and off.

She often wore silk dresses underneath or skirts that trailed after her like a white river. Paired with her laced black boots, it was an odd contrast. Some of the daughters of the servants tied bells with blue threads to the buttons of her jacket. It was an old island legend that the sounds of bells would attract good spirits.

18, she was still filling out in the ways that would make her recognizably a woman. Sakura had the gangly imbalance of a child teetering on the cusp of adulthood. And yet these were the clothes and this was the skin she wore under them. Her smiles tight and her dress pulled low, she allowed the eyes of men to rove shamelessly over her.

They thought themselves predators; saw her as a prize to be won. But the tip of her finger always dragged over the hilt of her sword. Tracing the swirling patterns engraved into the once-molten metal. And poison whipped out with her words without warning. It was usually around then that all those foolish men learned that they were, in fact, the prey, and she the predator. A wild thing that could not be caged behind the thickest bars.

Kakashi had always thought it fitting that she came from a family of roses. Covered in thorns that would make it impossible for anyone to pluck her.

Kakashi knew that he was different from Gai. Gai loved Sakura as a doting uncle. He also saw all she did for the people of the island and looked upon her with additional fondness.

Not Kakashi.

Just because the young duchess had yet to show her fangs didn’t mean that they weren’t there. He feared her. As he feared all of the Haruno family. After all, he had witnessed firsthand their capacity for cruelty. And he knew even better to keep his mouth shut about all these things.

Sasori arrived soon after.

“Count Hatake, I’ve kept you waiting. My apologies,” Sasori greeted him as he took a seat.

Kakashi took a deep breath before he met the Admiral’s eyes. “Of course, you must be busy, Lord Sasori. I understand.”

+++

Terumi Mei sat cross-legged at a simple wooden table. When she heard the door open, she waved a hand. A servant scrambled to gather all her documents up in a mountain and hauled it out of sight.

“Please excuse my mess,” she greeted them She gestured toward the cleared spaces before she replaced her pipe in her mouth. This almost seemed like a different woman from the one who had greeted them at the gate. She sounded so… personable.  

Sakura felt the tug of Gaara's fingers pinching her clothes. And so, taking a deep breath, she strode into the room and sat across from the woman.

“You must all be exhausted. Thank you for journeying all the way here, Cousins,” Mei went on. She gave a friendly look to Temari, Kankuro, and then Gaara.

Sakura felt herself softening a little. Anyone who treated her family with such respect couldn’t be so awful.

Mei clapped her hands twice. Servants appeared from nowhere, carrying trays heavy with food and drinks. “Please help yourselves. We are honored to host you,” she declared as the servant began serving their meal.

The food was simple but well-prepared. The prickly pear, in particular, was ripe and sweet. The juice burst into Sakura’s mouth when she bit down.

“You have a lovely home,” Kankuro commented, ever the silver tongue.

But Mei gave him a wry smile. “I’m sure it’s pitiful in your eyes. It’s kind of you to say so,” she replied.

Kankuro persisted. “Oh no. There’s a charm to this place. The tapestries look quite… nice…” He trailed off as he felt Sakura nudge him with her elbow.

“Your home is quite small. And…” Sakura said instead. Kankuro’s mouth opened, the horror spreading across his face.

“Quaint,” Temari concluded.

Kankuro grabbed his sister’s forearm, his eyes pleading.

But Mei laughed. Fingers trailing through her auburn hair.

“It is, isn’t it?” she agreed. She sighed, glancing around the room. And then she smiled as her gaze returned to Sakura.

“And yet it’s mine. So I love it anyway,” Mei then declared.

“I think I know what you mean,” Sakura responded.

“Prince Ebizo tells me that you might be in search of some weapons. I have spoken to my blacksmiths. They’ve been preparing samples for you, cousin. I do hope that they are to your liking,” Mei then explained. Sakura dipped her head. Mei returned the gesture.

The conversation was less awkward from then on. Mei asked questions about their stay at the Diamond Oasis. Then, about Plumeria. She was, unsurprisingly, interested in how the palace sat mostly in the ocean. In turn, Sakura asked questions about this city.

Mei’s city was called Hilal. It was the shape of a crescent moon, curving around the iron mine that descended into the sands. It was a modest settlement. More of a town than a city. Not that Sakura would insult her hostess by saying as much. The sands here were more reddish than yellow. There was no great oasis to supply the settlement with water. Instead, the city relied on wells that pulled from aquifers, drawing water from deep under the sands.

“Agriculture must be a challenge,” Sakura observed.

“Nearly impossible. The soil is as barren as it appears. The only thing it gives birth to is iron,” agreed Mei. And then she offered to take them on a tour of the mines the following morning. Sakura thanked her, already intrigued by the prospect. But despite Mei’s obvious attempt to divert the conversation, she had to ask one last thing.

“If the soil is so infertile, how do your people eat?” Sakura questioned.

The corners of Mei’s mouth curled up. She raised her cup to her lips. Paused. Looked to Sakura. “I… make arrangements. You’ve heard the rumors of my reputation, I expect.” She sipped her drink then.

Sakura suddenly found it hard to look at Mei. She looked to Temari instead. And Temari didn’t seem to know what sort of expression to put on her face either.

“I thought that was just jealous slander,” Sakura finally answered.

Mei shook her head. “Men are simple. They’re willing to trade so many things for one night with a woman of power and beauty.”

“But… how could you…” Sakura couldn’t finish her thought. Fortunately, Mei seemed to understand her half-formed question.

“Chastity will not fill my stomach. Chastity will not chase off the vultures from circling when dead bodies begin to pile up,” Mei stated. Not unkindly. She did give Sakura a pointed look as she added, “Besides, who decided that a woman’s pride lies between her legs? Whatever the rumors, I am still a princess.”

Later that night, Temari sat on the floor near the metal fireplace in the center of their shared bedroom. She polished the point of her spear in even, patient strokes.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Temari asked after a long time. Sakura sat with her back to her, staring unseeingly at the window. She wore her cloak over her thin nightgown, coarse brown fabric clashing against the thin linen.

Sakura was quiet for a long time. But Temari waited. She had grown accustomed to these extended silences. After the war, Sakura always seemed to take more time to gather her words. As if the thoughts in her head were tangled together.

“Do you admire her, Temari? Or do you pity her?” wondered Sakura.

Their hostess was clever and well-spoken. She was beautiful, as well as practical. Most importantly, she carried herself with dignity despite her simple clothes and her simple meals. She had all the elements of a good ruler. And yet…

"Do I ever sound like that, Temari?" she finally inquired. Temari set her rag down. Eyes sharp, she turned her head fully to look at her.

"Like what?" Temari asked.

Sakura bit her lower lip.

“Sad. Empty?” she wondered.

Temari let out a long sigh. Leaning her spear against her shoulder, Temari squeezed her hands together.

"Sometimes. When you talk about the Regent and his family… or when you're hurt… but you don't want to express it," she admitted through gritted teeth.

Sakura almost laughed. It just came out as a huff before she asked, “Am I so transparent?”

Temari shook her head. “It’s only because I learned from Aunt Kurenai as well.”

There was a heavy silence in the room for a very long time. And then Sakura turned to look at Temari, her eyes dry.

"Thank you for being honest with me, Temari.”

But when Sakura smiled, Temari didn’t return the expression.

“What is it?” asked Sakura.

“Why do you continue to pursue this, Lady Sakura? All it does is make you miserable,” wondered Temari. Sakura knew Temari would never question her like this in front of others. In fact, it was rare for Temari to ever question her at all. She didn’t mind, though. This wasn’t an answer she had to conjure. It already lived inside of her, flowing through thoughts, her every breath.

“I’ll take misery to my chambers, for it is my bridegroom,” answered Sakura. Her hand clenched as she got to her feet. “I’ll lie with it in my grave if I must. As long as I have what is mine.”

+++

The meeting with the Terumi family’s blacksmiths went well. They were as gifted as Mei had suggested. The old models of weapons were well-balanced and sharp. But as they went through the samples, Sakura could see that something was missing.

“Spears?” Mei repeated, her head tilting.

Sakura sketched a model on a piece of parchment. The blacksmiths leaned over it to ask questions, gesturing to the handle and asking about dimensions. They promised to work quickly. They bowed a dozen times as they walked out carrying the cask of wine Sakura had gifted to them.  

As they waited for the blacksmiths to work, Kankuro and Gaara explored the market. And after a few days of resting, Sakura agreed to join them. While it looked different to what they had back home, a market was still a market. And Kankuro seemed obsessed with making notes in his tiny journal as they walked around.

"What could be so fascinating about chickens?" Sakura wondered as she leaned in close to Gaara.

"Ah, big brother is keeping record of market prices and trade practices. I don't quite understand all of it. He says that it's crucial for us to be aware of how other cities manage their trade," Gaara responded. Sakura only smiled at him.

"Lady Sakura?"

She reached out and patted his cheek.

"When did you grow up, my little cousin? How intelligent you've become," she only remarked. Then, taking his hand, she pulled him along to catch up with Temari and Kankuro.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Gaara tugged Sakura's hand a little.

"We should find a tavern to settle in until the noon sun passes, Lady Sakura . It appears that many stores will be closing soon," he mentioned. Temari and Kankuro turned to look at them.

"I'm supposed to meet a merchant somewhere down this road to discuss prices. Gaara, why don't you help Lady Sakura find a place to rest. We will join you shortly," Kankuro suggested, looking to Temari. She nodded.

Gaara hesitated. But Sakura squeezed his hand.

"That sounds like an excellent plan. We won't stray far from this area," Sakura replied. With a wink, Kankuro headed down the road, Temari on his heels. He turned his head to say something to her. She responded by knocking him in the shin with the butt of her spear.

"Any suggestions, Gaara?" Sakura asked. He looked around the streets, which were rapidly emptying as people fled the sun.

"If I remember correctly, there is a place that is famous for its spicy lamb around here. Would that suit your tastes, Lady Sakura?" he suggested. When she nodded, Gaara led the way down the narrow road. There were already several empty stalls.

But as they walked, they saw at least one merchant's stall that hadn't closed for the midday break yet. And the only reason Sakura even noticed this was that she heard a man scream. She was reaching into her cloak for a concealed knife before she could even see what was happening.

As they approached, she saw a person dashing towards her. The glint of sunlight off metal alerted her to a weapon. Sakura's hand shot out, closing tightly around the forearm of a boy. He was wiry and covered in dust. He hissed something at her that Sakura couldn't quite hear over the merchant's shouts.

"Thief! Little rat!" the man shouted as he pointed a fat finger at the child in Sakura's hold. She child flailed his knife around but Sakura's grip was too tight for him to inflict any damage.

Despite Gaara's quiet protests, Sakura dragged the boy closer to the merchant's stand. The man brandished a bloodied hand as he continued to point at the child. It looked like there was a shallow cut running through part of his palm.

"What happened here?" she demanded in the loud, clear voice she’d developed on the battlefield. The man's mustache and beard seemed to bristle.

"This street rat robbed me and stabbed me with his knife!" he thundered. The boy scrambled to stuff something into the back of his shirt. With her free hand, she lifted his shirt up. Part of a loaf of bread tumbled out, bouncing on the packed dirt.

"Ah it's useless to me now!" the man lamented, launching into a loud rant in the background.

Sakura knew the general rules of the desert people rather well after spending some time in the Arids. Thievery was not a crime that was taken lightly. The proper thing to do would be to take him to the local law enforcement. But as she considered, Gaara grabbed her right hand, shaking it furiously to get her attention.

"Lady Sakura, look at him. Look at his face," he pleaded.

Only then did she see that the boy was crying pitifully.

"Please," the boy cried out.

Her hand wavered.

"I was hungry. My little brothers are starving. I'm sorry," he whimpered.

And in the background, the enraged merchant snorted.

But the boy, when she looked closely, was in a ragged old tunic. His clothes were in tatters, threadbare in some places and outright torn in others. How old was he? Why did his wrists feel so sharp in her grasp?

Slowly, Sakura relaxed her left hand. Gaara was still wrapped around her right arm. His shaking breaths weren't much different from hers.

Tears spilled from the boy's eyes, leaving darker trails on his dusty cheeks. He didn't try to slip from her grip.

"Sir," Sakura addressed the merchant without tearing her eyes from the boy.

"How much does this child owe you?" It took a moment, especially with Sakura's accent. But then the man looked down at the boy, calculating in his head.

"He took cheese and one loaf of bread. But he cut my hand as well. 5 silver should do," the man finally replied. Sakura only glanced down at Gaara. Gaara nodded. Satisfied that this was the fair price, Sakura moved to reach inside her cloak. Only then did Gaara release her arm, allowing her to pull a little drawstring bag from inside her clothes. She fished out a gold coin before tossing it to the merchant.

"For your troubles. I don't think this child will be stealing again," Sakura said. And as she spoke, she stared directly into the boy's eyes. More tears spilled down his cheeks as he nodded. The merchant, after biting the coin, only grunted his assent.

"Th-thank you," the boy croaked through his sobs.

But before more words could tumble past his lips, a shadow fell across him. Heads turned to find Princess Mei standing in the alley with them. She took slow steps forward. Her stare took in the merchant wrapping his bleeding palm in a rag. Then she looked to the boy still gripping the stained knife in his shaking hands.

"Little boy, did you steal from this man?" Mei asked in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

The boy's eyes grew to the size of plates. His hand shook so violently that the knife slipped from his hand, clanging noisily to the ground. And after an agonizing wait, the boy nodded his head. Mei looked at the merchant again.

"And sir, were you injured by this child?" Mei interrogated him. Even the merchant shook as he also nodded. But then he gestured towards Sakura.

"But this kind traveler mediated for us, Princess-" the merchant scrambled to say.

"No man, woman, or child is above the law. Guards," Mei interrupted with a flick of her wrist. And two burly men emerged from the shadows behind her, heavy scimitars held in their fists.

"A hand for theft," Mei then recited. As the guards advanced, Sakura seized the boy, pulling him to stand behind her. His feet dragged, sending dust puffing up into the air.

"This is a child," Sakura ground out.

Mei blinked. Her eyes were like two lifeless emeralds glued onto her face.

"So he is. And yet this child has committed a crime," Mei insisted.

"And so you will cut off the hand of a starving child," Sakura spat. She felt the boy's trembling hands clutch the back of her cloak. His whimpers filtered through between each of her words. And she could feel herself shaking too, heat rising up her spine. Sakura stole a glance at him over her shoulder.

The little boy’s tears flowed freely down his cheeks and his nose dribbling. Gaara knelt beside him, murmuring as he wiped those tears with his sleeves. Sakura blinked hard, trying her best not to imagine the boy's blood spilling across the ground.

"Of course. It's the only true way to ensure that it won't happen again. And if he's so hungry, that child will surely find a way to earn that money instead of resorting to theft again," Mei scoffed with a wave of her hand.

"But I have already reimbursed the merchant for his troubles. You'll kill a boy over such a tiny infraction?"

"The hand that steals is the hand that is lost. It has always been the law of my land. We cannot overcome the law with money," Mei explained.

As the guards advanced, blades pointed her way, something whisked past. Burying itself into the sand at Mei’s feet. Heads turned. Someone screamed about assassins.

“Are you alright, M’Lady? Unharmed?” Mangetsu queried.

The brothers sat on the balcony of a nearby building. Suigetsu nocked another arrow. Mangetsu’s sword glinted as he leaned forward.

“I’m alright,” Sakura answered.

She started when Suigetsu aimed an arrow right at her. It flew, piercing into the ground between her feet this time.

“Turn around, M’Lady. See that?” Suigetsu said, jerking his chin.  

A pouch lay on the sand. Glittering coins spilled from the open mouth. The desert rose of the Haruno family was stitched into the fabric in red thread. And beside the pouch lay the boy, who had stumbled in surprise when the arrow landed so close to him.

Sakura stared at him. Slowly, she felt inside her cloak. She lowered her arms to her sides.

Mei shook her head. “See that, Cousin? Kindness is not the remedy to thievery. You must nip it in the bud.” She didn’t sound smug. Just… stated it as a fact.

And Sakura stood frozen, blood boiling so hard that she feared it would steam right out of her ears.

“Don’t look so sad, M’Lady,” Suigetsu called out.

Sakura looked up just in time to see Mangetsu hop down from the balcony. Suigetsu followed. They both landed on their feet like cats.

Suigetsu hung back, but Mangetsu took a few more steps forward. He drew his sword, stepping between Sakura and the city guards.

“We might not be knights, but even we’re not going to stand by while someone raises a hand to our client,” Mangetsu said, feeling Sakura’s stare on his back.

“Looks like you were trying to defend the kid. There’s no point,” Suigetsu told her. His eyes flickered to the boy. He bared his sharp teeth in a grin. The boy didn’t flinch. Suigetsu scoffed.

“Kid’s too brave. He’s not working alone,” Suigetsu confirmed. His gaze flickered back to the crowd of spectators. Sakura looked around, too. She caught a man’s eye. He glared back before he turned.

“There!” Sakura barked.

Her voice startled everyone. The child followed her pointing finger. Something in his expression changed, even though he hadn’t understood a word of her conversation with these men. He lunged, teeth sinking into her forearm. Mangetsu turned back to her when she yelled. But Suigetsu threw down his bow and arrow as he sprinted into the crowd.

“Lady Sakura!” she heard Kankuro’s voice call out. When she looked up, she could see him and Temari pushing their way through the people. Temari brandished her spear when she saw the blood dripping down Sakura’s wrist, onto the sand. Sakura held her free hand up to stop him.

A cry rose from the crowd. Feathers went flying, a chicken squawking and flapping its way away from the fray. There was a resounding thud. Then, silence.

A minute later, Suigetsu rose, holding a man by the back of his shirt.

“Caught a big one for you, M’Lady. You wanna gut it-” Suigetsu called out. He smirked down at his prey. “Or should I?”

The little boy’s jaw unclenched. He released his hold on Sakura’s arm as he yelled, “Baba!” Blood running down his chin, he tried to run to the man. Temari grabbed him before he got two steps.

“Oh… oh no,” Gaara whispered as he saw the clear marks the boy’s teeth had made in Sakura’s skin. The areas around the punctures were already turning purple with bruises. Kankuro hissed between his teeth. He pulled off his scarf to begin binding up the area. It wasn’t clean, but at the very least, the bleeding would stop.

Sakura hardly paid attention because she could hear the boy weeping now. The garbled sobs couldn’t disguise the way he said “Baba” over and over again. Father. The pieces were coming together now. Especially when the man in Suigetsu’s grasp stared at the child, his jaw set. His hate-filled eyes falling on her in silent accusation.

The crowd whispered frantically as Suigetsu dragged the man forward. Mei’s guards met him. The searched the man until they found a pouch inside his shirt. When they overturned it, coins and jewels spilled onto the sand. A gasp rose from the spectators.

Temari also forced the boy in front of Mei. When he resisted, the man whispered something. The boy knelt in front of Mei, his eyes fixed on the ground between his knees.

Mei folded her arms across her chest.

“My my,” she sighed, “Using your son to steal. What a clever trick.”

And then her eyes flickered over to Sakura.

Mangetsu couldn’t understand her. All he knew was that this woman’s guards had moved towards Sakura with their weapons raised. He stared her down as he took a step to the left, blocking Sakura from view. Sakura pushed him to the side with an impatient noise. Mei almost smiled.

“And, on top of that, assaulting a member of the royal family,” Mei added.

The father’s eyes widened. They flew back to Sakura. In a simple cloak, she was just another traveler. But he followed Mei’s pointing finger, down to the spilled pouch. To the desert rose stitched into the silken fabric. The color drained from his face.

“Haruno,” was all he could whisper. The dread seeped through in that one whispered name.

“It is the law of this city that those who harm the nobility shall be put to death,” Mei then announced to the crowd. This time, Sakura did not speak out to defend them. Not with the pain that throbbed in her arm with each thud of her heart.

“And, when my cousin defended this child, he stole from her. He shed her blood. Do you deny any of this?” Mei’s voice seemed to echo up and down the street.

The man knelt, forehead pressing to the soil. “I do not, Princess,” he replied.

Sakura started a little when Mei turned her head to look at her. Mei gave her a sad smile before she gestured with her hand. Sakura turned away as the guards raised their scimitars. The shrieks came before she heard the slice of the blade through the air. And then the smell of metal told her that the deed was done. She didn’t realize her hand was shaking until she felt Gaara grasp it. His eyes were filled with tears.

“Forgive me, Lady Sakura. If only I hadn’t asked you to intervene,” he whispered.

"You thought it was for the best. And so did I,” she answered, trying to keep her voice steady. 

A deep breath in. Out. In. Out. Just as she had always done. 

“Hang the bodies in the square. As a warning for all those who might think to break the law again,” Mei ordered as she caught up to them. One of the guards grunted a response. Mei laid her hand on Sakura’s forearm. The smell of her perfume was heavy and floral.

“This could have all ended with a simple hand being lost. Now, both were put to death,” she said.

Temari bristled. “You overstep, Princess. Lady Sakura was harmed as a guest of your city. You sh-”

“She’s right, Temari,” Sakura spoke up.

“It’s unfortunate that you witnessed that. But I hope that you understand,” murmured Mei.

Sakura searched for the words. When she looked Mei in the eyes, she nodded. “We must be strong,” Sakura stated.

Mei nodded. She moved her hand to clasp Sakura’s. “Especially us.”

Later that afternoon, a doctor knocked on the door. She was kneeling when Temari opened up.

“Princess Mei bid me to come tend to the General’s injury,” the woman said.  She wore a veil over her face, covering her mouth and nose.

Temari looked over her shoulder. Sakura nodded.

The boy’s bite had gouged into her skin. Each groove of his teeth had made a clear mark. Though it was beginning to scab now, it had bled for quite some time.

The doctor shook her head. “This will scar,” she warned.

Sakura didn’t respond.

“Please do not think poorly of our princess, General,” the doctor plead as she began applying some sort of ointment to the most tender sections first. “Before she inherited the city, this was a lawless land. Merchants were afraid to come because they feared for their lives. Now, we are safe. We have food. She has done much for us.”

Sakura’s eyes didn’t leave the window as she replied: “I know.”

That night, at supper, Mei apologized once again.

“That was not the side of my city that I wished for you to see.”

But rather than linger on this, Sakura recalled what the doctor had said to her. “Why was your city in such poor condition when you first came to power? Wasn’t this passed down in your family?”

Mei’s goblet touched her lips. Then came back down. Her lipstick left a mark on the shiny surface. She looked from her plate, to Sakura. Red lips pursing and pressing together. Her shoulders slumped as she let out a deep breath.

“Hilal was… it’s always been in my family’s possession. But… it was not what my mother intended for me,” she confessed.

Kankuro, who had been quiet during the meal, spoke up for the first time that night. Wiping his mouth on his napkin, he grimaced. “It was only toward the end of your cousin’s reign that they discovered the iron deposits. Before that, it was a worthless city,” he spoke up.

Mei’s eyebrows rose, but she nodded. “Indeed.”

Sakura looked to Kankuro. He went on.

“To the north, that’s where the Terumi family’s true land lies. The city of Solace,” he explained.

Sakura’s stare returned to Mei. “Then… why are you here so far removed?” she wondered.

“In a way… banished? Deposed?” Mei said, so matter-of-factly that Sakura almost didn’t believe her.

But then Mei shook her head a little. “Both,” she decided. And then she refocused her attention on Sakura.

“My stepbrother and his wife feared I would cast him out when my mother passed away. They falsified my mother’s will and kindly “gave” me this city so that I could retain my status as a princess. I suppose they were hoping I would starve to death in the wilderness and not cause them trouble. A shame. I hear he’s making a mess of things,” Mei sighed, waving her hand a little as she spoke.

“No matter. I’m a resilient little weed. I won’t be plucked so easily,” she commented.

Mei rested her chin on the back of her hand with a smile. “Not so different, are we?” she asked Sakura.

Sakura smiled as she chewed her meal. “I suppose not,” she replied.

They left the city of Hilal a week later. Mei didn’t have much to offer, but she still insisted upon providing them with gifts. She traded their camels for fresh ones from her personal stables. Mei even saw them to the city gates at dawn.

“You may seek refuge here at any time,” Mei greeted them, as was customary. “I’ve sent word ahead to Prince Baki of your arrival.  The accommodations there will be much more than what I’ve been able to provide.”

“We’re grateful, nonetheless, Princess Mei. Thank you for breaking bread with us and sharing your roof with us,” Sakura gave the traditional response. But before Sakura could slip away, Mei grasped her hands.

“I can see the fire in you, Cousin. I bless you with the wisdom and good wishes left behind by our ancestors. May the winds blow to smooth your path. And may many blessings touch your feet wherever you may go,” Mei whispered before she released her.

She turned to Gaara, kissing his forehead. Then Kankuro. Then Temari. Last, she returned to Sakura to place a final kiss to Sakura’s forehead before she held her close.

Mei stood at the gates of her humble city. She didn’t move from that spot as the caravan began to move over the sands. Even as the outer wall and its black gates grew smaller and smaller. Even when Mei herself was no bigger than a blurred spot of blue, she stood there. Watching them. Until neither of them could see the other.

+++

< Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 >

[antiquecompass]

Untamed Winter Fest Day 27: Feast

Rhode Island shouldn’t feel like a completely different world to Jin Ling and yet it somehow did. He’d visited before, attending local art festivals with his uncles, but this was the first time he’d ever been to Zizhen’s family home. Which seemed ridiculous considering how long they’d know each other. For years the dorms at Lan Academy had felt like Zizhen’s home, since he was always there, and then there had been his place in London. Now back in Rhode Island, they were looking for their own place, him, Zizhen, and Daisy, but for the interim, Zizhen was staying at his parent’s grand estate in Newport.

Jin Ling only felt a little bit nervous as he saw the entire fleet of cars parked in the driveway. He could hear loud laughter and music coming from the open door, where a tiny woman in a headscarf was standing with a huge platter in her hands.

Jin Ling hurried to help her, Daisy running beside him.

“Let me get that for you,” he said.

The elderly woman turned to him and grinned. “Ling!” she said. She pulled him down to her height, kissing both his cheeks. “So good to meet you! You’re almost as cute as your pictures!”

Jin Ling had no clue who she was, but he didn’t want to hurt her, so he just took it.

Inside the house he was hit with the smell of warm spices and what appeared to be nearly every member of Mrs. Ouyang’s family.

“There’s our sweet boy!”

Jin Ling was pulled down into another hug by strong arms.

“Mamani,” he said as he returned Zizhen’s grandmother’s hug.

He knew Mamani was going to be here for dinner. He didn’t think every al-Jamil relative this side of the Atlantic was also invited.

“Word got around,” Mamani said as she patted Jin Ling’s cheeks. “They all wanted to meet you. To meet the little archer who stole our Zizhen’s heart.”

Jin Ling knew he was blushing, could feel the heat of it on his skin, but he refused to play like he was bashful. Jin Ling was proud of their relationship, proud of Zizhen, and damn proud of the fact he ‘stole’ his heart, won it, even if it had always been freely given to him.

Take that, stupid haggis-eating, bagpipe playing, salmon fishing Scottish lords.

And Dylan Tan and his pathetic seventh-place world ranking could also kiss his ass.

“Did you invite everyone?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mamani said. She kneelr down to pat Daisy’s head. “You should put her with the corgis.”

“Corgis?” Jin Ling asked.

Mamnai nodded. “Farid brought his entire brood. They’ve taken over the front parlor.” She gave him a small shove. “That way.”

The gauntlet of relatives to get to the front parlor took him past the triplets: Laleh, Mahsa, and Safa, all asking if they could braid his hair later; past Baba Joon who had little Vahid in his arms, showing off the Ouyang’s art collection; past so many cousins and aunts and uncles, he nearly collapsed in relief when he got to the front parlor and found only dogs.

And Zizhen.

“I am so sorry,” Zizhen said, carefully putting a tiny corgi puppy back on the couch. “When Baba Joon heard you were coming to visit, he ordered everyone to come. It’s a family feast.”

“I can see that,” Jin Ling said. He let Daisy off her leash to explore and then collapsed into Zizhen’s arms. “Seriously how many of them are there?”

“I don’t know,” Zizhen said.

He wasn’t joking. Jin Ling could hear the truth, the fear of it in his voice.

“Maybe we can just hide here?” he asked.

“Not a chance,” Farid said, sticking his head into the room. “They’re already calling for the both of you to come help and make the mantu.”

“Manti?” Jin Ling asked.

“Whatever,” Farid said.

It was a long-running joke between Zizhen’s Chinese and Persian relatives over the correct name for the dumplings.

“I’ll be there in a second,” Zizhen said.

“You have five minutes to make your little kissy faces and then I’m coming back for you,” Farid warned.

“Kissy faces?” Jin Ling asked.

“Farid may look thirty, but he’s still twelve,” Zizhen said. He did nuzzle Jin Ling’s cheek. “But, if we have five whole minutes…”

“You better do more than just kiss my cheek,” Jin Ling ordered. He ran a finger down Zizhen’s cheek. “How’s your dad doing today?”

“He’s well,” Zizhen said, a serene smile on his face. “It’s a good day. He’s just hiding from all the chaos until it’s closer to meal time.”

“Smart man,” Jin Ling said. He wrapped his other arm tighter around Zizhen, pulling his closer, pressing his fingers into the small of his back, tugging on the ends of his hair there. “Hello, by the way.”

Zizhen held his chin in place as he devoured his mouth in a deep, searching kiss. The kind that made it easy to forget the room full of dogs and a house full of relatives and the impending feast.

“Tease,” Jin Ling said in between the softer kisses to follow.

“A preview,” Zizhen corrected. He kissed him one more time as they both heard the door open.

“Seriously, enough with the kissy faces,” Farid said. “Mamani’s demanding your appearance. Now. She will drag you out of here by your hair.”

“I’ll go,” Zizhen said as they both walked towards the doorway. “You should go see Baba. He’s in his study, just down that corridor.”

“I will,” Jin Ling said. “But I’ll be sure to join the gathering in the kitchen once I’m done.”

“You better,” Farid said. “You’ve been the main topic of the family group chat since before the Olympics.”

“Farid!” Zizhen said, face turning red.

“Yup, after the last family gathering where our little Zizhen announced his intentions.”

“Really?” Jin Ling teased. “So sure of yourself?”

“I made a promise,” Zizhen said. “And I kept it, if you recall.”

He did. He very much did.

“Oh, put that smile away,” Farid said. “No one wants to see that.” He nudged Jin Ling towards the study. “Go pay your respects to your future father-in-law and ask if you can try to win his only child’s hand.”

“Hey!” Jin Ling said.

“And you,” Farid said, pushing Zizhen towards the kitchen. “Go sing Legolas's praises one more time. He's going to need that once they start asking what his plans are for the future."

"Stay-at-home dad and trophy husband," Jin Ling said. "Just like my father."

"He's not joking," Farid said. "How is he not joking?"

"Because he's serious," he heard Zizhen answer.

***********

He’d been intimidated by the large number of Zizhen’s family members when he’d arrived, not that he’d ever admit to that, but here, around the dinner table, it felt very much like home. The food was a little different, some of the words he didn’t understand, and there was an absence of wine or even harder liquor, but it was a loud family, gathered around a feast, reunited and sharing stories, reliving memories, and making new ones. That, that he knew and knew well.

He still didn’t know half their names. He’d met the youngest cousins, and Farid multiple times, and Zizhen’s grandparents obviously, but so many other were unfamiliar faces. He knew pf them from Zizhen’s stories, from his mother’s as well.

And they all made him feel welcome.

Even if they kept putting more and more food on his plate.

“He needs to eat! He’s still growing,” Mamani said.

Zizhen patted his head. “I think this is as tall as he gets,” he teased.

Jin Ling swatted back at him, but couldn’t help laughing. At least he was still taller than his Uncle Yao. Of course, that wasn’t much of a feat.

“I’ve never heard any complaints,” Jin Ling said.

Zizhen smoothed back Jin Ling’s hair, pushing some stray strands behind his ear. “A very powerful pipsqueak.”

“Keep talking,” he threatened. “Go on. See how it works out for you.”

Zizhen leaned closer. “I look forward to it,” he whispered.

“Look at his face!” Farid said. “Separate them, separate them now!”

The room filled with laughter and taunts, the warm kind that existed in the best of the good memories.

Jin Ling shook his head as Zizhen tried to hide behind him, face bright red, and joined in the laughter.

[queercapwriting]

Ketchup On Your Jacket (Carol x Maria, ft. tiny Monica)

She knew she wasn’t supposed to be wearing it. 

She knew because she’d caught her mom, on more than one occasion, taking one of Carol’s old sweaters out of her drawer, holding it to her face, and breathing deeply. Smelling it. Smelling the scent Carol had taken with her when she went on that mission and never came home.

“Mama?” she’d asked, wide-eyed and confused, the first time she’d seen her do this. “Why are you smelling Auntie Carol’s clothes?”

Maria had looked up, shocked for a moment, looking — just for a moment — like she’d forgotten where she was, what year it was, how much bigger her daughter had gotten in the months since Carol had been gone.

“And why are you crying?” Monica had asked, before running full-tilt into Maria’s room and crawling up and onto her lap. 

Maria had sniffed and shaken her head. “I’m just missing your Auntie Carol, baby,” she’d said, and she’d held the old sweater out for Monica to examine. “Some of her clothes still smell like her.”

Monica had taken a gigantic sniff, and Maria had laughed in spite of herself. Monica’s eyes had flown wide. “It does smell like her!” she’d erupted, victorious with her discovery, at first.

And then she’d broken down hysterically crying.

Because it smelled like Auntie Carol, but Auntie Carol wasn’t there anymore.

And, if they believed the Air Force — not that Maria believed the Air Force, not really, not some days — she was never coming back.

Maria had kissed little Monica’s face, and held her, and rocked her, and carried her outside to where she used to lay with Carol.

“Do you remember what she used to tell you?” Maria had asked. “About the stars?”

Monica had wiped her tears with a small fist, sniffled, and nodded. And then she’d launched into wild stories, true stories, about giant balls of gas that created everything that people and plants and animals and the whole world is made out of. 

Maria had cried, listened to her, but soft, quiet. Almost unnoticed.

So Monica had never tried to put on any of Carol’s old clothes. To keep the smell on them. Of body spray and engine oil and newly-cut grass.

But one night, a few years later, Monica startled awake from a horrific dream. She couldn’t remember it, not exactly, but it was something about a plane and an engine burning out and she couldn’t fix it and there was a huge plummet and an even bigger crash.

She padded into her mother’s bedroom — the one she used to share with Carol, where Monica would go on Sunday mornings to worm her way in between their warm bodies to snuggle until Maria got up to make them all brunch and Carol got up to “help” — and was about to wake Maria. But her mother was sleeping with a small smile on her face. 

And, unless Monica was looking right at her, it was so rare that Maria smiled these days.

It had been a long time without Carol.

So Monica let her mommy sleep. Even though Maria would have told her to always wake her, always, always, if she needed something. 

But Monica figured that she could get what she needed from the closet. The back closet of the bedroom that she wasn’t exactly allowed to open, but it wasn’t exactly against the rules to open, either.

Mercifully, the closet door didn’t creak.

And she was careful. Very careful. She stood on tippy toes and leaned her entire face into Carol’s old brown leather jacket, and she took a massive breath. A massive sniff.

Her heart sank.

It didn’t smell like Auntie Carol anymore.

She wondered if Maria had put it on, ever, just to feel like Carol was there, surrounding her, holding her.

Because that’s certainly what Monica wanted, right then. And there couldn’t be any harm in it — the jacket didn’t smell like Carol anymore, anyway.

So she tugged it off the hanger, and she held it close to her chest as she scampered out of her mother’s bedroom.

Both her mothers’ bedroom.

If Auntie Carol ever did come back.

Monica slipped into the jacket, which fit her like a dress, and she hugged it all around her. Safe and warm and protected, and something else, too. It smelled like Maria. 

So her mom definitely did this, too. Wrapped herself up in this jacket.

Wrapped herself up in Carol. 

Monica couldn’t help it. She lifted her arms — even though they were extra heavy, in Carol’s big jacket — and she zoomed like an airplane, keeping the noises soft so Maria wouldn’t wake. 

She hopped onto the couch, off of the couch, all around the dining room table, all through the kitchen. An airplane. Just like Carol and Maria flew.

Except Monica made sure never to crash.

She did land, though. Right next to the refrigerator. She stood, again on tippy toes, to reach for the leftover hot dogs Maria had grilled the night before. She took one out, climbed on the counter to grab a bun, went back in the fridge to grab some ketchup, and…

Splat. 

All over Auntie Carol’s jacket.

She gasped and she scrambled for paper towels and she knocked over the tupperware with the hot dogs and it was too much, too much, she’d ruined too much. She plopped down on the kitchen floor and started to cry.

Maria’s arms were around her in what felt like no time at all.

“Baby, what did you do?” Maria murmured into Monica’s headscarf. But the question was soft and sad instead of sharp and angry. Monica shifted to show Maria the ketchup stain.

“I ruined it,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

And Maria’s jaw clenched, and something flashed across her eyes, but it was only for a moment. A short, short moment.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. Do you know how many times Auntie Carol spilled beer on that old thing? Here, baby, give it to me. We’ll get the stain out together, you hear me?”’

Monica nodded, and she shivered her way out of the jacket. 

She felt both heavier and lighter, with it off.

“What were you doing in my closet, baby?” Maria asked as she led Monica into the laundry room, jacket in tender, shaking hands.

“I had a bad dream, but I didn’t want to wake you up, so I thought maybe I could sit in your closet that has all of Auntie Carol’s things, so she could keep me company. But then I saw the jacket, and it doesn’t smell like her anymore, so I thought it would be okay if I wore it. So I did. And I had some flying practice.”

She put out her arms to show Maria, and her mother chuckled dryly.

“And then you got hungry, because being a pilot is hard work,” Maria supplied, and Monica nodded with tears in her eyes. “And then the hot dogs happened.”

Monica nodded again, starting to shake this time. “I’m sorry,” she started sobbing, and in a moment Maria was back down on her knees, scooping Monica into her chest and soothing her, rocking her back and forth, slow and steady.

“I miss her too, baby. I miss her, too,” she whispered, over and over and over again.

Monica never tried on Carol’s jacket again. It was a silent but solemn agreement she and Maria came to, after the night with the ketchup. But she still sometimes saw Maria sitting with it, hugging it to her or wearing it and hugging herself, rocking back and forth on nights like Carol’s birthday, on nights like the anniversary of the day she disappeared, when Maria thought Monica was sleeping.

But then Carol came home.

Then Carol came home and Monica got to hug her, got to tell her about the ketchup stain. Then she got to protect her jacket for her. She was old enough, now. Strong enough now. Skilled enough with the ketchup bottle, now.

She and Carol shared the jacket, now. Even though Carol let Monica wear it more often than not. But Carol still wore it on special nights out with Maria. Special nights like the one where Talos was supposed to be watching Monica, but he fell asleep with the TV remote in his hand and his mouth tilted open. 

And Monica crept out into the living room to see Carol and Maria — Carol wearing her now ketchup-stain-free jacket — with her arms wrapped around Maria. 

And if it were anyone else, Monica would have immediately covered her eyes.

But it was her moms.

So seeing them on the porch, holding each other and kissing each other, just made Monica want to laugh and giggle and rejoice and fly. 

Because Carol was home.

And their family was both back to normal and bigger than it had ever been.

[canumoveurseatup-no]

Puffballs (Bucky x Black!Stark!Reader)

A/N: This was inspired by my little sister because I had to do her hair while my mom and step dad were out and she said “I wish my hair was thinner” and it honestly made me a little sad because in a world where black girls have a hard time accepting parts of themselves that society judges, it’s important to instill the value that beauty isn’t just pin straight hair or light skin. So enjoy.

Summary: You and Bucky’s daughter starts to have some self identity and self-image issues at a young age. Bucky lets his daughter know there is nothing wrong with what she was given.

Pairings: Bucky x Black!Stark!Reader, Bucky x Black!Daughter (parental of course)

WC: 4.6K

Warnings: Uh, a little angsty, self image issues, I think that’s it. Then fluff!

REQUESTS AND TAGS ARE OPEN!!!!

Please leave feedback! Comments, reblogs and likes mean so much <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky sat in the common area of the compound with you guys’ daughter, Annalise, with the rest of the team. You were away on a solo mission and Annalise had begged Bucky to see her aunts and uncles at the compound, he couldn’t deny the six year old’s puppy eyes.

They all sat there watching Paw Patrol as she, Tony, Sam, Steve and Natasha sang the theme song. She had everyone wrapped around her finger, but those four the most. Especially Tony, he loved his granddaughter to death.

“Papa, can I play with your hair while I watch Paw Patrol, please?,” she sung sweetly.

Bucky slid in the floor in front of her and leaned himself back on the couch, “Of course, honeybee”

“Yay!,” she squealed.

She took out her barrettes, hair scrunchies, brushes and combs ready to play hairdresser. She reveled in the way she could comb and brush straight through her papa’s without having to add some stuff to it like mama does to hers. She loved the way he could sleep on it without needing a headscarf and bonnet.

“Can I give you puffballs like mine?” she asked. She got her scrunchies ready to place them in his hair along with butterfly clips.

“You sure can,” he smiled up at her. She giggled back at him and went back to multi-tasking between watching Paw Patrol and doing her papa’s hair.

“Uncle Sammy reminds me of Skye,” she blurts out. 

On the screen she watched as the puppy named Skye spread out her wings and started flying around to help the community of Adventure Bay.

“Why is that, Anna?,” Sam asks.

“Uh, ‘cause she flies around like you, duh. Her gimmick is just cuter,” she stuck her tongue out at him.

“How do you even know what ‘gimmick’ means?,” Sam laughed at the little you.

“Poppop Tony says it a lot. He says, “everyone has a damn gimmick nowadays and I’m sick of it’“ she mocked Tony perfectly.

Tony widened his eyes, he was not expecting the child to repeat him.

“Language,” Bucky glared at her and she pouted.

“You sound like uncle Stevie” she rolled her eyes.

“Watch it,” Steve warned playfully.

She gigged and turned back to her client to finish.

She put his hair in two identical pigtails and did her best to make it puff up like hers. She brushed it up as much as she could but it just wouldn’t stay. She did her best to keep from getting frustrated with herself. She did what her mama always told her in cases of her fast impending frustration, take a few minutes and breathe before finishing.

Once Annalise felt like she had calmed down enough, she went back and tried again but nothing was working! She felt tears well up in her eyes and just sat there staring at the back of her dad’s head not knowing what to do.

She looked around the room and saw everyone was really engrossed into Paw Patrol. She eyed everyone to see whose hair would work better to make look like hers, but everyone in the room had hair like her papa. Uncle Sammy and Rhodey wouldn’t even work, they had no hair.

She reached up to touch her hair and then reached out with her other hand to touch Bucky’s. The textures far from each other, everyone had hair like him, she wanted hair like him. It was easy to work with, all the little cartoon characters on TV even seemed to have hair like his too. Why not her?

She sighed and put her hair stuff away. Annalise felt her face growing hot and her face scrunching up as she started to cry. She removed herself from the couch and rushed out of the common area.

“Anna?,” Bucky called out but that just sped up her pace.

Everyone looked around in confusion as Annalise never stormed off like that.

He went after her and found her in her playhouse in her playroom. She had her back to the door but he could still see her little form through the window.

“Honeybee, what happened?,” 

“Go away!,” she called out, “You and mama said when I’m in a mood to step away and take some time and space for myself. You’re keeping that from happening.” 

Bucky was at a loss for words. He hated seeing his daughter upset like this. This normally only happened when her mama wouldn’t take her to the park then to get ice cream, or the time Y/N wouldn’t get Anna a dog, or the time she found out she could only lift heavy stuff like him but not turn into a snake like her Uncle Loki. All the other times this happened, you were there to calm him down and keep him away until she came to you guys ready to talk.

But you weren’t here and Bucky felt the heat and tingles of anxiousness run down his body as he didn’t know what to do. Without you there to pull him away, he didn’t know what to do, he wanted to comfort his little honeybee.

“Baby-,”

“Papa, go!!,” she hit the fake window and he saw the sadness in her big brown eyes, “Just go,” she whimpered.

Bucky didn’t want to go, he wanted to sit right here and wait until Anna came out the door and crawled into his arms. But he heard your voice in his head, give her time.

He huffed and reluctantly got up to leave, he stood in the doorway and heard her sniffle and hiccup. He closed his eyes and shook his head as he left. He knew she would come to him, she always does but he hated waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She okay?,” Wanda asked.

“She’s bawling her eyes out and won’t tell me why,” He hung his head, the pigtails swinging with his head. The image would have been funny if he wasn’t so bothered.

“Crying?” everyone says in unison.

”Why would she be crying?,” Tony stood up quickly, ready to comfort his granddaughter.

“If I knew I wouldn’t be here freaking out,” Bucky’s tone was clipped and he didn’t mean for it to be, he just took his daughter and her feelings seriously.

“Y/N has this rule where if Annalise gets frustrated or upset then she needs to take some time to herself to calm down so she doesn’t lash out on anyone. To come to us when she’s ready,” Bucky shook his head and sat back in the chair staring at his hands in his lap

“Usually Y/N is here to keep me from hovering over Anna while she’s calming down but she’s not and my daughter is bawling and I’ve never been alone with her breaking down like this and I feel like I’m failing her. I know she’s just doing what she was taught and will come to me later like she always does but I want to be comforting my daughter now. I want to know what’s wrong now, so I can fix it. I’ve never been alone when this happens, I feel lost,”  He huffs as he finishes his rant and Tony claps a hand on his shoulder before sitting down beside him.

“You’re not alone, Bucky. We’re here to help you. Y/N did the same thing when she was younger, it helped her harness and channel her emotions. That’s all she wants for Anna,” Tony reassured him.

“Everything is going to be okay, Buck” Steve smiled at his bestfriend.

“I just don't understand why she’d run off crying. We were having a good time,”

“That is weird. She never gets upset unless provoked.” Bruce points out.

“Which one of you did it?” Nat and Thor said at the same time, eyeing everyone around the room ready to sock it to whoever dare hurt their dear Anna.

“Here’s the little one of the hour,” Vision’s voice catches everyone’s attention.

Annalise comes in with her stuffed bee and crawls on the chair and watches the TV as if nothing happened.

She felt her family staring at her before turning and questioning them, “Why are y’all staring at me?,” 

“Why were you so upset, honey? You lashed out on me for a second and I was worried,”

“Hormones,” she shrugged.

Everyone looked at the six year old with scrunched up faces. Hormones?

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you can use that excuse yet,” Wanda arched a brow at the smart little girl.

“Why not? I hear you, mama, aunt Nat and nana Pepper use it all the time,” She looks at Wanda with furrowed brows.

“That’s because we’re different. We’re a lot bigger,” Natasha explains.

“Well...,” Annalise thinks of another excuse to make, “I’m just a kid. We cry all the time.” her words were hurried yet unsure.

“I know that’s not what’s wrong. Can you please talk to me.” Bucky felt like he was gonna explode. He hated the idea of not being there for his daughter. He felt like she didn’t trust him enough to tell him.

“Papa... I will tell you when I’m ready. Please let it go,” she huffed and played with her stuffed bee’s antennas.

Bucky looked at Tony sorrowfully. Tony just told Bucky not to think about it too much, that she will come to him when she’s ready, but now is not that time.

He hated waiting, he wanted to fix the problem now. He wanted to help his honeybee. He would call Y/N, but her talking time was limited due to the mission.

“Okay, I understand”

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

Bucky was getting Annalise ready for bed. He sat with his back against the headboard with her sitting between his legs, her attention on the TV as she watched a documentary on dinosaurs.

He sat with a spray bottle, curl crème and a wide tooth as he did three strand twists in his daughter’s hair. He adored her curls. The way the perfect spirals were shiny and springy, he just wanted to play with it all day like she did with his. He loved doing her hair, something she obviously got from you and he could not get enough of it. You and Bucky always took turns styling your daughter’s hair and most times he argued with you because he saw this cute kid’s hair style while shopping in the beauty store and wanted to do it.

With you being away, he had free reign and wouldn’t have to worry about trying to argue with you about it.

While detangling a section of her hair, he caught a knot that had Anna whimpering in pain, “Ow, papa!,”

“Sorry, honeybee,” He sprayed more of his water and leave in conditioner mixture in her and worked the knot out.

“I wish my hair was thinner,” she mumbled quckly.

For Bucky’s senses to be enhanced, he actually didn’t quite catch what she said but he could hear her distasteful tone.

“What was that?,” He leaned to the side to see her face better.

“Nothing, papa. Just tired. How much more do we have to go?,” 

Her question caught Bucky off guard. Anna never questions how long until her hair is finished. She sits there as calm as the night sea, just letting her parents do her hair.

“Uh, not too much. Then we’ll get you in bed, okay?,”

“Okay,” she answered. her shoulders sagged as he finished his current twist. Ten more and he’s done. With his daughter all washed up and ready for bed, he puts her bonnet on and switches the light off.

“Goodnight, honeybee,” He kissed her forehead and held her tight against him as she hummed a goodnight. It took him a while to get to sleep, he was worried about his daughter. But your voice of reason was always there in the back of his mind to calm him down.

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

When Annalise made sure her papa was good and well asleep, she slipped out of his arms and found herself treading to the common area. It was quiet throughout the compound, except for the TVs heard from the others’ rooms.

She sat on the couch and looked around the area and sighed.

“FRIDAY?,” She called out. 

“Hi little Stark,” the woman’s voice low since it was night time.

“It’s Stark-Barnes, FRIDAY,” the six year old giggled.

“I know. But your grandpa wanted me to address you as the little Stark. He said little Stark-Barnes didn’t have the right ring to it,”

“Anything can have the right ring to it if you don't overthink it,”

“Try telling him that,” the AI laughed, “What can I do for you, Annalise?,”

“I have a question,” She whispered.

“Go ahead,”

“Is papa really my papa?,” the little girl finally asked.

FRIDAY took a minute to answer. Why would she ask such a thing?

“Of course he is. Records prove it. Why that question?,” 

“If he’s really my papa then why don’t I have his hair? And if pop pop is really my pop pop why doesn’t mama have hair like him?,” such a curious little bean, but there was nothing wrong with it.

“Because your mommy’s mom’s, your other nana’s, genes were more dominant than your pop pop’s. Same thing with you. Your mommy’s genes were more dominant than your daddy’s. Everyone has certain characteristics that come from one parent and other characteristics that come from the other. That’s what makes you who you are. That’s what makes you unique, Anna,”

“Papa’s hair is better than mine,” she cried.

“Don’t cry, Anna. Not it’s not,” 

“Yes it is. It doesn’t get tangles in it like mine. It doesn’t take forever to do like mine, it doesn’t get poufy when it gets wet like mine. I wish I had his hair. Everyone else here has hair like him,” she tried to reason.

“Annalise, listen to me,” FRIDAY gently spoke, “Just because everyone else has a certain hair type doesn’t make them better than you. Your hair fits you. It’s beautiful on you. There’s nothing wrong with your hair. Look at your mommy for example,” 

Annalise took in FRIDAY’s words and nodded her head, 

“Thank you for talking to me FRIDAY. I would have talked to papa but I feel like he’d be mad at me,” she got a blanket and curled up on the couch.

“He could never be mad at you,” 

“Can you read me a story, please?,” she wrapped the blanket around self ad pulled a pillow under her little head.

“I sure can,” FRIDAY replied lightly

Annalise went to sleep that night hearing a beautiful story about a young black girl who fell in love with her hair. She knows this story, her mama has read it to her before.

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

Bucky woke up the next morning and his arms were empty, Annalise rarely ever wakes up before him and when she does she stays cuddled up to him until he wakes up.

“Honeybee?,” he called out, but got no response back.

“He checked the bathroom and found nothing there. He ran down the hallway calling out for his honeybee but she was nowhere to be found.

“Annalise?!,” He ran into the kitchen, No one was there and he started to freak out. He checked the playroom, it was left the same as yesterday, all tidy and empty.

“Fuck,” he swore to himself. He ran into the living room and his heart almost burst out of his chest. He found her lying there sound asleep with her stuffed bee.

“Oh my God,” he cried.

He picked her up as she stirred awake and held her tight. 

“You scared the hell out of me, Anna,” He kissed her face repeatedly and wiped his tears, “What are you doing out here?,” 

“I dunno, I think I sleepwalked,” she muttered into his neck as she hugged him back.

“Anna, you don’t sleep walk,”

“I got thirsty. When I got my water I didn't wanna wake you up so I stayed out here,” she said.

“You don’t have to be afraid to wake me up, honeybee. As long as I know where you are so you don’t give me another heart attack,”

“I’m sorry, papa,”

“It’s okay. Mama comes back today.” he rocked his daughter back and forth.

“Good. She’s been gone for a long time,” Annalise yawned

It’s really only been like four days, but any time without her mother is a long time to her.

“Let’s get you ready for the day and then I’ll make you breakfast, yeah?,” he softly patted her bum and walked with her to the bathroom. He brushed her teeth and gently washed her face with a clean, warm rag. He got her dressed a cute set of yellow overalls with a black long sleeve turtleneck underneath. He called her back in the bathroom and took her bonnet off. He lightly oiled her scalp and decided to leave the twists in for another day before taking them out that way her curls would be more defined. But he did a half up, half down look on her that way the front wouldn’t be in her face.

She smiled at him and went into the kitchen, sitting in her favorite spot, her mama’s spot when she’s not here.

“Want an omelet?,” He walked into the kitchen and got pans ready.

“Yes please. With the egg stuff mommy uses, and the vegan butter.” she smiled sweetly at him and he smiled right back. He adored that little girl, his little family was the best thing to happen to him. He was blessed, he woke up everyday thanking the highest Heavens for you two.

“Anything in it?,” 

“Mushrooms, green peppers, spinach, no onions, I’m allergic,”

“I’m your papa, I know what you’re allergic to, honeybee,”

“And mama’s dairy-free cheese,” she fiddled with her stuffed bee.

“Can hardly call it cheese if it’s dairy-free,” he mumbled to himself and shook his head.

“I heard thaaaat,” Anna sang, “Mama said I can make the decision to not eat animal products like her if I want. When I found out that chicken nuggets are actual chickens I didn’t want to anymore. They’re too cute. My doctor said I’m still healthy without all of it,”

Bucky just smiled as he oiled the pan with your vegan butter and poured the egg substitute into the pans with the stove heat on low.

“Juice or your oat milk?,” Bucky pulled his hair up easily in a bun and Anna was watching him.

“Oat milk, please,” even with what FRIDAY said to her last night, she was still a little sad that she can’t easily wear a style like that in her hair.

She sat quietly as she waited for her breakfast to be cooked. Bucky cooked himself a hearty breakfast in the process. 

He handed Anna her favorite cup with her oat milk and her plate with apple slices, her little omelet and a little bowl of apple cinnamon oatmeal. He sat down with his own plate of bacon, an omelet with real eggs and cheese, tomatoes and green peppers with a side of toast and a cup of black coffee.

Annalise ate carefully and quietly. 

“What do you wanna do when mama comes home?,” He took a bite of his toast.

“Maybe the park?, then we can go roller skating. We haven’t gone in a while. Me and mama think it’s funny that you’re a superhero but can’t skate to save your life,”

Bucky choked laughing at her insult. 

“Mama is a superhero and can’t cartwheel correctly!,” he defended

“Cheap blow, Barnes!,” You showed up in the entrance, “I can cartwheel just fine,”

“Hardly,”

“MAMA!!!,” Annalise ran to you and you lifted her up in the air kissing all over her face.

“How’s my honeybee?,” 

“I’m well. I missed you so much. Papa made me a good breakfast, come eat with us!,” 

“I already ate but I’ll still sit with you guys,” 

You walked over to Bucky and gave him a long, much needed kiss, Annalise gagging in your arms.

You sat down in her seat and she continued eating in your lap while you talked to your husband.

“How was the assignment?,” Bucky asked as he cut a piece of his omelet, shoveling it into his mouth.

“Boring. Less fighting than I thought, my shadow traveling has gotten better so no close calls or anything. I could have been home last night but I forgot a piece of data so I had to hurry and retrieve it and delete the software before they realized we got em,” you took a sip of Anna’s oat milk and played with her hair.

“Your hair is cute, baby. Who did it? Pop pop?,”

Anna laughed and shook her head, “Pop pop can’t even put my hair into my puffballs, papa did this,” she shook her head and you watched them swing back and forth.

“Good job, babe,” 

“I should have been a hair dresser,” Bucky boasts

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Anna beat you to it.

“Your papa texted me yesterday saying you were upset. Have you talked it out yet?,” You asked her, massaging her scalp.

Annalise visibly tensed, “Don’t want to talk about it right now, mama,” 

Now you didn’t know what do. She never shut you guys out like this. Bucky sighed and dusted off his hands as he sat back in his chair.

“Why not?,” He asked 

“Because I don’t want to,” she shrugged, “I already talked it out, it’s fine,”

You and Bucky both furrowed your brows.

“Talked it out with who? and I don’t think it’s fine because when I brought it up you immediately tensed up. We’re your parents, baby. Don’t be afraid to come to us,” you rubbed her back but she just kept eating.

“With FRIDAY. When papa went to sleep I came out in the living room to talk to her, I ended up falling asleep on the couch and it is fine, mama,”

“You told me you got thirsty and didn’t want to wake me up when you came back,” Bucky leaned on the table and eyed your daughter suspiciously.

“Well I did. I can do both,” 

“Annalise Lillian Stark-Barnes now is not the time to sass me,” Bucky gave her a stern look.

“He’s right Anna, if something is bothering you, you don’t lie. You come to us. Don’t keep it to yourself,”

“Well it’s a me problem so I’ll work it out on my own,”

“But you don't have to, Annalise. Listen to me,” 

You turned her around in your lap and held her small face in your hands.

“There is nothing that we can’t help you through, do you hear me? Your feelings are valid. Talk to us,” 

With Bucky sitting beside you, you both saw her eyes well up with tears. 

“FRIDAY said papa is really my papa and pop pop is really my pop pop,” she said looking down. 

You and Bucky looked at each other completely lost.

“Of course we are, baby. Is that bad?,” Bucky was scared to hear her answer. Kids were unapologetically blunt.

“I was playing with your hair yesterday. You said I could put your hair in puffballs like mine but you lied to me. I couldn’t get your hair to puff up like mine. I tried to see who else’s hair I could get to do it but everyone had hair like yours so I figured your hair was better. When you did my hair last night I said I wished it was thin like yours. I asked FRIDAY if I’m really yours and if mama is really pop pop’s then how come we don’t have pretty hair like yours,” she sobbed and didn’t look either of you in the eyes.

Your eyes welled at your daughter’s words. You didn’t expect her to have self image problems this early on and you didn’t know what to do. You struggled with this mindset before, but not this young.

Bucky took her from your lap and placed her in his.

“Annalise... Look at me, please,” 

With red eyes she did as he said.

“Your hair is absolutely beautiful okay?,” he held her hands.

“Your hair is your crown and no one has the same crown because we all wear it differently. You don’t need hair like mine for it to be considered pretty. You already have my smile, my laugh, my attitude and my inhuman strength. Your hair is yours. Your beauty is yours and no one can take that from you,”

“But you don’t have tangles and kinks like I do,”

“You without your hair kinks and tangles is like a leopard without spots.” he rebuttals. 

She just stared at him with her lip quivering

“All hair is pretty hair. All hair is good hair. You don’t have to have mine for it to be considered good, honeybee,”

She nodded her head but you weren’t quite sure she understood.

“What your Honeybee Scouts slogan?,” Bucky asks her.

“Remove the kinks from your mind-”

“- Not your hair,” He finishes with her.

You watched this moment. It was good that it wasn't just you instilling these values in her, you took comfort in knowing her father, though who looked different than her, took her self-image problems seriously and didn’t just leave them for you to handle. She had both of you.

“Your hair isn’t strictly who you are, baby. It’s a part of you and it’s one of the many puzzle pieces that help make the bigger, beautiful picture. You,” you booped her nose and smiled at her. She seemed to understand after you guys’ thoughtful words and she wiped her tears.

“I didn’t want you guys to be mad at me for feeling like that,” she admitted.

“Sweetheart,” you took her chin in between your thumb and index finger, “We could never be mad at you for having your own feelings. Like we said, your feelings are valid and you don’t have to hide them from us. We’re your parents for a reason,”

“Uncle Sammy and pop pop said it’s because you guys had coitus like rabbits. Pop pop said papa just had to come to you for a ‘horizontal refreshment’, I’m not sure what that means but they said it,”

You and Bucky’s eyes pop out of your heads at the words that come out of your daughter’s mouth. You were gonna have a few words for those two.

“Anyway,” Bucky coughs, “When we found out we were having you, we knew we would do our best to have a healthy, secure relationship with you. We want you to pull back, take time for yourself then come to us so we can have these talks. So you don’t grow up questioning yourself or your feelings. You understand?,” 

She nodded and squeezed his hands, “I understand,”

You and Bucky both kissed both of her cheeks and you guys sat there in a group hug for a few minutes before the rest family comes in and sees you and you hear a chorus of “Y/N!” and “Awh!,”

You look for the two men of the hour and eye them.

“I will have a talk with you two later about the terms you use around my sweet cherub,”

Sam made a ‘yikes’ face and Tony just rolled his eyes. Nothing he ever says around his granddaughter is correct enough.

“But for now,” you turned to your daughter and smiled at her, “Let’s get you straightened up and me cleaned up and we can go skating to laugh at papa, how’s that sound?,”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed at your comment.

Annalise shook in excitement and smiled wide.

“Yes!!,” she clapped, “Sorry papa but watching you bust your butt is funny,”

“It’s okay because after that we’re gonna go to the park and have a cartwheel competition with mama,”

“Oouuu,” your daughter teased.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Anna!!!” 

Bucky scooped her up and ran away, “Hardly!,” he called over his shoulder.

You shook your head at this family of yours.

Not perfect, but close enough.

*The End*

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

Thinking about making a papa Bucky series. Let me know what you think!

Please leave comments, reblog and like. Y’all’s feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

Up next is Nat! Once this gets to at least 100 notes, I’ll upload it! 

Tags- @sideeffectsofyou @chonisberonica​

[foxyotomelady]

It wasn’t supposed to be, Chapter XII (JuminxOC/Reader)

Author’s notes:

This chapter is as dramatic as this gif.

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X | Chapter XI | Chapter XII (You are here) | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV | Chapter XV | Chapter XVI |

Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

Those two weeks remaining until the party passed quite quickly. It was a very strange period for Jumin, both pleasant and painful. Riyu said goodbye to him every day before he was leaving for work and greeted him when he returned home. These sweet 'have a nice day at work', these kisses on the cheek to say goodbye or greeting... Never before he experienced something so tender. He didn't want to give it up, but he knew that at some point he would be forced to... And that was the painful part.

Evening movie seances have become their small tradition and they often fell asleep nestled to each other on the sofa, covered with a blanket. There was something so... normal in all this that sometimes he even managed to forget in what complicated situation they were. But only sometimes... Because the awareness came back every time his father called Riyu and she pretended to be very happy about it. Awareness also returned when his father informed them he would be able to come to Korea for the party. Jumin hoped all that time that the old man would be too busy...

The day before the party, they went to visit a vet who agreed to become a temporary home for puppies - they were still small enough that they needed constant and professional care. Jumin couldn't help smiling when he saw Riyu cuddling four little creatures in her arms - she looked so incredibly happy. Small dogs also seemed to adore her. "Animals are so better than humans," She told him then, and he once again realized that he knew very little about her. That Riyu still keeps many secrets from him. Her love for animals and skepticism towards people must have come from somewhere.

Now, on the day of the party, about an hour and a half before it starts, they both sat on the sofa in the saloon. Riyu rested her head on his shoulder, clearly sad. Of course, she was wearing a dress in which his father would like to see her.

"It will be unpleasant for both of us..." She whispered and closed her eyes. "But we should be leaving now. We must be there earlier."

Jumin kissed the top of her head and mumbled into her hair, "I will have to keep a distance from you. Otherwise, I can do something you don't like."

Riyu sighed, "I'm sorry, Jumin. I know you are suffering because of me."

"Don't apologize. I know it's not easy for you either. Anyway, you've always been honest and clearly told me you had to marry my father. Still, I decided to go on with it..." He put his hand on her cheek and turned her face towards himself. She looked at him with glistening, wet eyes.

"How long can we continue this...?" She asked.

"I don't want to think about it. God... The only thing I can think about right now is that I would like to kiss you right in front of his eyes. That he would understand who you really belong to."

Riyu smiled sadly, got up and kissed his forehead, "We have to leave."

Jumin followed her, but before they left he grabbed her gently by the shoulder and turned her around, "I can, however, do something to make sure you don't forget who you belong to."

Riyu blinked, he felt chills on her skin under his fingers. Did he scare her again? But she didn't back away, didn't protest. So he pulled her closer and kissed her fervently. She moaned softly in his mouth as he slid his hand over her thigh, exposed in the cut of the dress.

When they separated for a moment, Riyu's hot breath tickled his face. Then the girl clung to him again, stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Stay away from you..." He whispered, looking into her slightly hazy eyes. "It won't be easy."

The presence of other RFA members at the party helped her to relax. Even V appeared, she was glad that she could finally meet him personally. Most of the time, however, she was forced to spend with Mr. Chairman. Guests approached them, greeted them, complimented her and praised the old man how lucky he is to have such a young and beautiful woman. Riyu was smiling artificially and pretending to be ashamed when in reality she wanted to vomit. She didn't even want to know how Jumin must feel now. Most of the time he did as he promised her - he stayed away. But as avoiding them would also seem too suspicious, he spoke to them from time to time.

Riyu didn't miss how Jumin scanned their joined arms.

"So what do you think of the party, father?" He asked stoically.

"I am delighted and proud of Riyu, as she is partly responsible for organizing it."

"Yes, I'm glad you found time to come."

Jumin was definitely a better liar than her - his expression was hard to read, though she knew him well enough to see his nervousness in how he clenches his jaw and improve his shirt cuffs.

"I have some news for you," Mr. Chairman declared. "I've already dealt with most of the cases abroad. I think that in a week or so I will be able to return to Korea and deal with the matter of divorce with your mother, son."

Riyu felt the blood drain from her face. She didn't hold back to look at Jumin. She saw how his eyes change expression, though his face was still stony.

"Ah, so that means Riyu will be able to come back to your house?"

"Of course. You have been hosting her for so long, Jumin. I am very grateful to you."

Jumin nodded, "It's my pleasure. Will you let me spend some time with Riyu as she will be less present in my life soon?"

Riyu's heart accelerated its beat. Jumin said it all in a very monotonous voice, but his words were so ambiguous that she was afraid of how Mr. Chairman would take it.

"Of course, I don't see the problem," the old man replied, surprisingly cheerful. "Unless my dear promise me it won't take long."

Riyu laughed awkwardly, "Of course, Mr. Han, I'll be back to you soon."

He was still holding her arm, so they were close and she didn't even have time to react, protest or step back when he kissed her on top of her head, just like Jumin used to do. It paralyzed her for a moment, she felt weak. When Mr. Chairman took a step back, she was still standing still. From the state of this daze, she was only torn by Jumin's gesture as he took her hand. It was impossible for his father not to notice, but Jumin apparently did not care and pulled her away from him.

He squeezed her hand so hard that she felt pain, "J-Jumin... Wait."

Jumin stopped abruptly. They were somewhere away from the main room, away from the guests, in one of the corridors that led to the bathrooms and VIP rooms.

Riyu looked at his face with a beating heart. He looked like he was about to explode, his eyes dark. The fingers with which he crushed her hand trembled.

"A-are you alright?" Jumin asked her and looked at her, but he didn't seem to see her truly. He was fighting something inside himself.

"I..." Riyu pursed her lips, felt tears at the corners of her eyes. "I just need to calm down. I don't want to ruin my makeup."

"Don't let him touch you again. Not like that..." He said in a low, deep voice.

Riyu shuddered. He still didn't let go off her hand. The pain increased, "It's not like I wanted it, Jumin..."

Jumin took a deep breath, "I know... I'm sorry." He slowly released her hand.

Riyu blinked to chase away the tears, "It's getting too difficult for both of us, Jumin... We have to... If we continue... We both break our hearts."

"So what do you expect from me? That I will just ignore what I feel? That I will just leave you?"

"I don't want this... But you know it's the only solution."

Jumin took her face in his hands. His dark expression now also bore great sadness. Their lips barely touched at first. Now tears ran down her cheeks. Jumin deepened the kiss, pushed her against the wall.

"No, we can't... Not here..." Riyu muttered, but her words were quickly absorbed by another kiss.

Her heart was pounding like crazy. She knew what they were doing was stupid and dangerous, but she couldn't control herself when Jumin was kissing her so desperately.

When they were both breathless, Jumin moved his lips along the line of her jaw. Riyu suppressed a moan with difficulty, her fingers caught on his back. Then Jumin dipped his face into the bend of her neck. He took a deep breath as if he inhaled her.

"It's amazing how much I can't control my emotions when I'm with you..."

"The threads  you once told me about..." Riyu began to stroke the back of his head. "Now they are choking you again, right?"

"Do not think about it..."

How could she not think about it if it was all her fault?

She shivered. The thought that in a week she would have to leave him, hurt him, go to his father's house... It all made her cry like a child. How often has she cried lately? It was humiliating.

"Don't cry ..." Jumin stroked her sides, then gave her a handkerchief.

Riyu laughed through her tears, "Always prepared, huh? Wait a minute please." Wiping her face with a handkerchief, she went to the bathroom. There she stopped at the mirror and looked at her reflection. Her makeup was ruined. She sighed. For the next few minutes, she did everything to fix it. When she finally decided that it couldn't be better and turned to leave... She saw a figure in the doorway.

It was a man, his face was covered with a red headscarf, his hair was white, and his exposed arm had a strange tattoo. Something was terrifying about him. And Riyu could have sworn she had seen such a sign somewhere.

"Who you are?" She asked and straightened up, trying to sound cold. "You shouldn't be here."

The man laughed hoarsely and, with his hands in his pockets, entered the room. Riyu forced herself not to step back, to look boldly on his face.

"You are not one of the guests," She judged, continuing in a cold voice. "How did you get here?"

The man stopped right in front of her, slid the scarf from his mouth and smirked, "Your parents sent me."

Riyu immediately felt all her courage evaporate somewhere. The white-haired man laughed, probably saw the terror rising on her face.

"To being exact, I am sent by my savior regarding your parents as they are her favorite followers and partners."

"What do you want?" She still tried to control her tone, but her voice shook anyway.

The man chuckled louder and leaned toward her. Their faces were so close that she could feel his breath on her. She pursed her lips, didn't back away. She desperately tried not to show her fear.

"Do you think nobody knows what you are doing?"

"What are you talking about?"

The man grasped her arm painfully, "This rich old man has left you long enough that you thought you could run into his son's arms? You're quite a slut, aren't you?"

Riyu hissed in pain, jerked in vain, "I know what I have to do. I will marry this old man as my parents want."

"You'd better do it. You'd better not try anything stupid. Otherwise, something bad could happen to your lover and your sweet friends."

Then he released her, put his hands in his pockets, turned and headed for the bathroom exit. Riyu tried to calm her breath, her legs trembled slightly.

She had no choice anymore... If she did not follow her parents' instructions, she would risk the safety of everyone close to her.

She made sure that fear disappeared from her face and gestures before she went to Jumin. They spent quite a lot of time together, mainly talking and drinking wine, before her return to Mr. Han. All this time she did not see the white-haired man again.

Holding a glass of wine in her hand, she was talking with the guests who approached them, again enduring all the sweet comments and touch of an old man who sometimes held his hand on her back.

"You seem very at ease when you are with my son," Mr. Chairman noted when they were alone.

"Oh? Well, we spent some time together. As I once said, we get along pretty well. I think we've become good friends."

"I'm leaving abroad tomorrow morning," The old man continued. "Would you like to spend this night with me at the hotel?"

Oh God... what should I say? Riyu clenched her hand on the glass so that he didn't see her fingers tremble with nervousness, "I'm not prepared at all, I don't have too many things with me..."

"You don't need much, it's just one night. I have booked a room for one person, but I can change it."

"I... I don't want to bother you, Mr. Han. It will be better if I go back to Jumin's apartment ..."

"Of course, as you wish," Mr. Chairman's voice was cold.

"Don't get it wrong, please," She muttered quickly. "We'll have plenty of time for each other soon, aren't you glad?" She forced the sweetest smile she could afford now.

Mr. Chairman's face brightened. Riyu understood more and more why Jumin was so fed up with his father's approach to women. He was really easy to manipulate, since even she succeeded, with her poor acting skills.

With great relief, she returned to Jumin's apartment, which became the home that she never really had before. She tried not to think that she would have to leave this place in a week. She and Jumin were both not sober - none of them crossed the line, it would be tactless for the organizers of the event, but alcohol began to affect their words and behavior a bit.

It was the middle of the night when they returned. Riyu, tired, slumped on the sofa and groaned, "God, it was so stressful."

Jumin untied his tie, tossed it somewhere aside, "I think you did well. The party was successful, went without any problems."

A thought of an intruder crossed her mind, but she quickly chased it away. She hissed when she remembered how her feet hurt. Her shoes were elegant, beautiful, but... so bloody uncomfortable.

"I don't even have the strength to take off those damn shoes," She moaned. Riyu was looking at the ceiling, so she only learned about Jumin approaching her because she heard his footsteps, "Jumin?"

She blinked as she looked at him. He knelt in front of her on one knee and gently took her foot in his hands.

"Let me help you."

Riyu pursed her lips, "You don't have to..."

"Shh..." He slowly undid the tying of her shoe, but before he took it off, he kissed the top of her foot briefly.

She shuddered and clenched her fingers on the sofa's arm. Jumin massaged her sore foot for a moment, which she accepted with pleasure, then repeated the same with the other. But he didn't stop there. His kisses slowly began to wander up, his lips climbed her calf, reached her knee. Riyu heard her own rapid breathing. When Jumin gently pushed back the material of her dress - which was very easy due to the deep cut - and pressed his lips in a kiss on her thigh, she shuddered and sighed softly.

"Just tell me to stop and I'll stop..." Jumin whispered hoarsely against her skin.

Riyu shook her head.

"You must use your words, otherwise I will not understand you," He said teasingly.

"You don't have to stop..." She whispered shyly, feeling her cheeks burn.

"As you wish," Jumin put his lips back to her thigh while he climbed her other leg with his hand. Chills ran all over her body. When at last Jumin's hand stopped at her waist, and his lips brushed the skin on her hip bone, he raised a little.

She opened her so far closed eyelids and saw something dark in his eyes. She instinctively pressed her back into the back of the sofa. Jumin reached to her face with his hand and kissed her tenderly, which was the complete opposite of the emotion glittering in his eyes. Then, keeping his eyes on hers, he ran his fingers along her neck.

She felt hypnotized. Although his eyes scared her a little, she couldn't look away. She wasn't even sure if she was blinking. Her breasts rose and fell on her quick breathing. Jumin's hand wandered over her shoulder and collarbone and then stopped on her chest. Jumin seemed to be waiting for her reaction, her consent. She was unable to utter words, so she arched her back slightly to show him that she wants his touch. He immediately pressed his lips to her lips in this strong and passionate kiss, and she moaned as his hand began to gently massage her breast.

His other hand rested on her shoulder, "You tremble a lot..." He whispered with a slight concern between kisses.

"I just... I had never..."

Jumin smiled under his breath "Neither do I..."

She giggled softly, nervously. For some reason, she thought that someone like Jumin would already have some experience in these matters. She felt calmer that it wouldn't be just her first time.

They kissed again, slower this time, more sensually. Jumin slid down the shoulder strap of her dress, his lips went down her neck, down to her collarbone. She was getting hotter and pleasure overwhelmed her.

"Can you... Can you stand up for a moment for me?" Jumin asked in a low voice.

Riyu blinked, then took his hand and with his help stood on her bare feet. Both straps of her dress were slid off her shoulders. It was enough now that Jumin just pulled the fabric slightly down and the dress slipped off her body, fell at her feet. The girl felt immediately ashamed, standing in front of him only in the underwear. Instinctively, she covered herself with her arms.

Jumin kissed her forehead tenderly, but his uneven breath betrayed his excitement, "You don't have to be ashamed. I saw you in a nightgown itself many times."

"It's not the same..." She muttered, looking away.

"Just... Relax... I'll be gentle..." Jumin whispered to her ear.

She was weak on her feet when he tenderly grabbed her long hair and moved it aside, at her one shoulder. Then he showered her exposed space between her neck and second arm with hot kisses.

She heard his accelerated breathing, felt his hands on her bare waist. She barely suppressed her whimpering.

"You are beautiful, truly beautiful..." He said, and in his tone, she began to hear the same emotion that she had previously seen in his eyes. The darkness that excited her and frightened her at the same time. A pleasantly frightening shiver ran down her back and made her thighs quiver. Jumin turned her around slowly, she heard him growling. Then she felt his lips at the back of her neck, his arms wrapped her around from behind, his hands stroking her sides, her stomach, lower and lower. She was about to lose her breath in a moment...

Suddenly Jumin stopped, "What is this?"

Riyu blinked, broken from a pleasant trance, "W-what?" She asked confused, her mind was immersed in pleasure and alcohol, so she did not immediately remember something important...

"Your back..." Jumin stepped away from her.

Only then did Riyu realize what he saw and cursed in her mind that she had forgotten about it. How could she forget?! She turned hurriedly and wrapped her arms around herself again.

"I-It's nothing..."

"Nothing?" Jumin's eyes were wide open, fear and concern were visible in them. "It looks like scars... From what?"

"I don't even remember anymore... I fell down the stairs once, that's why..."

Jumin's eyes narrowed, "Do you really expect me to believe in such nonsense? These are not scars from falling."

"It's irrelevant, Jumin. Please, it's..."

"Show me," He demanded abruptly and grabbed her arm, wanting to turn her back on him again.

"No!" She jerked away, reacted more violently than she wanted.

"Tell me who did this to you," Jumin insisted.

"No," She said firmly.

"Why?"

"Because it's not your business."

Jumin looked surprised and hurt by her cold words. She looked away, "I'll go to my room" She whispered, quickly took the dress and shoes off the floor, then turned to go to her room. She heard Jumin's footsteps behind her, she knew he was following her, but she didn't expect what had happened. When she opened the door, Jumin slammed it with his hand, making it shut. He was right behind her.

"You won't go anywhere until you tell me."

She pursed her lips, chills running down her body again, but they were no longer so pleasant.

"Why can't you just trust me?" She heard Jumin's dark, deep voice just behind her.

She clenched her eyes tightly, pressed the dress in her arms to herself, "And why can't you trust me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Trust that I can't tell you anything, not wanting to endanger you or the others. I know you would try to help me if I told you everything that was going on in my life. But you can't help me and I can't risk your life. "

Jumin took a long breath, then put his arms around her, gently, as if he didn't want to frighten her. He put his head on top of her head, "I'm so sorry... I really can't control my emotions when I'm with you..."

"You've always controlled them perfectly before me...?" Riyu asked quietly, just standing in his arms like that.

"I've always found them unnecessary... But now... I'm worried about you, Riyu... I don't know what's happening with you and it drives me crazy..."

Riyu closed her eyes, turned slowly in his embrace, then kissed him briefly on the lips, "I can handle it, Jumin... I have always managed everything somehow. And meeting you will always be the best thing that happened to me in my life..."

Jumin just looked at her without a word, with a miserable expression. Riyu slipped out of his arms and this time he let her disappear into the room...

[swindlersstole]

7, 32, 42?

i really hate to do this to you right now because it’s Go Time but also. it’s Girl Time

32. hammock

Gemma was learning a lot of things about herself these days. Specifically, about herself and travelling, and the lesson of the day was this: she was not good with boats.

This was good to know for the future, because now, as the official first apprentice of the master merchant Derk (titles pending), she would be doing a lot of traveling, both with him and alone as his proxy. Traveling to Dundrasil now was exactly such a proxy service--Derk had been away from his wife for far too long, and Gemma had done such a remarkable job organizing Cobblestone’s repairs, that Derk insisted that she help oversee Dundrasil in his stead. 

Of course, even if he hadn’t asked, Nova had wanted her to come along for the exact same reason. It would be hard work, to be sure, far harder than their village, but Gemma would do anything for her best friend--and she couldn’t turn back from a challenge. The people of Cobblestone were resilient, perseverant, and did not give up, and Gemma was no exception.

The boat did not respect that resolve in the slightest.

Gemma rose from the table on unsteady feet, and Nova caught her before she could hit the floor. “Oh, crumbs…”

“Not a fan of the ocean, huh?” Nova laughed, very obviously worried.

“Ugh…” She pushed herself up off his shoulder, one hand holding her stomach. “It’s not your grandad’s boat on the river, that’s for sure.”

Sylvando leaned out from behind the partition of the galley, chin in his hands and a frown on his lips. “Oh, Gemma, honey, I’m so sorry! Everyone got their sea legs so quickly before. I didn’t even think about someone getting sea sick.”

“If memory serves, Sylv, we didn’t have much of a choice on the sea legs front.” Erik poked out from behind Sylvando; without Jade on board, he’d been tasked to help prep dinner in her stead, but he seemed ready to jump at the slightest inclination that Gemma needed another hand. “You gonna be alright there?”

“I’m going to hafta be, aren’t I?” Now standing straight and independent of Nova, Gemma forced a smile. “So, I’m a little green around the gills--it’s alright! Better I find out now than later. I’ll just… ask to go on foot next time! That’s possible, right?”

It wasn’t the most convincing bluff of her life, and whatever parts of it actually held up as believable were quickly dashed when her stomach lurched again, loud and clear and impossible to disguise as creaking floorboards. Gemma doubled over the table with a groan; Nova raised his arms ready to catch her again, and Erik leapt over the counter in a bolt, and the only thing that stopped them was her was the hand she held up.

She took a few deep breaths, and then stood tall, but much more pale. “I’m okay!”

“Oh, no, darling, you’re really not.” Sylvando had crossed into the dining cabin, hands on his hips. Gemma might not have known him for as long as Nova had, but she definitely understood right away why Nova had said he reminded him so much of his mother. “Now, you need to go take that pretty little face of yours to the sick bay and get some rest. Captain’s orders.” 

“But…” She looked between the three of them, somewhat helplessly. “What about dinner?”

“Honey,” Sylvando raised an eyebrow, “do you think you’re actually going to be able to eat anything right now?”

Gemma opened her mouth.

“Without throwing up.” Erik added.

Gemma closed her mouth.

“Please, Gemma,” Nova pleaded, “We need you at your best in Dundrasil, and I don’t want you catching something more serious because of this.”

Gemma wasn’t sure that seasickness was an open door for pneumonia, or shypox, or--well, actually, it was probably more of a prelude for shypox--but the point was, even after a near two decades of knowing him, she still hadn’t built up an immunity to Nova’s puppy-dog eyes. Which, she supposed was fair, he wasn’t very strong against hers, either, but this was a weakness that had worked against her time and again, and this was no exception. Gemma accepted defeat with a sigh and falling shoulders.

“...Fine, fine. You win,” She’d accepted her defeat, yes, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. “I’m awful sorry, Sylvando, it smells lovely…!”

“Darling, I won’t hear of it!” Sylvando had a complete turnaround from his motherly insistence, clasping his hands together in delight. “This ship runs on happy faces, you know, but forcing a smile on someone isn’t how I do things. So, you go get lots of rest, and then you come back and show me the best smile you’ve got! Deal?”

“Deal,” Despite what he’d said, that did get a smile and a laugh out of Gemma--but, she knew she could do better, and a deal was a deal. She breathed in deep, and steeled herself for the brief trek ahead, turning towards the door to the deck.

As she walked, Nova turned to Erik. “I’ll go with her to be safe. I won’t be too long, just a--”

“Ohhh, no you don’t!” 

It didn’t matter how ill she was, nothing could have stopped Gemma from turning on her heel and stomping back to Nova, just to stick the scolding; he jolted back from her shift in mood. “You’ll be up all night worrying about me if you do that, and then what are we going to get done in Dundrasil? Maybe I have to skip a meal tonight, but that’s not an excuse for you to, Nova. You’re so much more worse about taking care of yourself than I am.”

“Gemma, you’re over exaggerating,” Except she wasn’t, and everyone present knew that, but Nova persisted. “It really wouldn’t be that bad if I--”

“Ah-bup-bup!” She raised a finger to his mouth, effectively shushing him, before turning to Erik. “Erik, you have to make sure he stays put while I’m out. Feed him yourself, if you have to. He had a dream about it once. I read his journal.”

Nova’s face erupted in red. Sylvando cackled. And Erik brought a hand to his chin with a devious smile. “Oh, he did, now?”

“He’s a gentle, romantic soul, you know,” Gemma returned the smile despite her weariness, saccharine sweet and sly, “So I’m trusting you to do whatever you have to do to make sure Nova won’t leave to check on me--or even want to.”

“Ooh, Gemma!” Sylvando howled with laughter, slapping a hand on the dining table. “You naughty little thing, you, I love your style!”

Nova opened his mouth to object, to Gemma, to Sylvando, to anybody who could understand his sputtering, but whatever words he had turned into a gasp and a jolt when emerald-clad arms wrapped around his waist. Erik laid his chin on Nova’s shoulder, and looked to Gemma, all too proud like the cat that ate the canary.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” He sounded far too enthusiastic about this allowance, and it made Nova groan and hide his face in his hands, “I won’t let you down~”

“...You know,” Nova said at last, after the resounding ‘clap!’ of Erik and Gemma’s high-five had faded, “there was this… a good ten minutes, when I was so happy you two became friends? I would love to live in those ten minutes again right now.”

~

Gemma found her way to the infirmary cabin without much difficulty. Once she was on her feet and moving, it was fairly easy to find a rhythm that could deter the rocking of the boat, and she reached her destination with little stumbling.

The sick bay itself looked not much different from the regular cabins. It was certainly bigger, to accommodate all the beds needed for an infirmary, but much of the room for closets and bookshelves replaced with a good deal of cabinets for medicines and herbs. She thought about taking an herb for herself, to see if it would ease the pain, but decided against it; if it was that easy, Nova would have just used magic in the first place, and that would have been that.

Interestingly enough though, Gemma noted, was the hammock strung up near one of the windows--at least, she thought it was a hammock, she’d never seen one shaped like a box before, but there wasn’t much else she could think it to be--which struck her as a bit odd, considering. A hammock on a ship wasn’t a strange mental picture, but in a sick bay, it seemed more… counterproductive, to the seasickness problem. Not that seasickness was the only reason to go to a sick bay but--

A loud churn from her stomach cut off her string of thoughts, and Gemma crumpled over onto the nearest bed with a whine. The more she thought about being sick, the worse it was going to get, and she wasn’t about to spew and make a nuisance of herself on Nova’s account. And that was a worry that was already eating at her appetite enough without the ocean’s help, thank you very much.

Gemma shuddered miserably at the thought, and when her stomach had stilled once more, she kicked off her boots and tucked herself under the blankets, waiting to slip away into troubled sleep.

~

A knock at the door roused Gemma with a groan. She glanced at the window, and grumbled when she saw the sun setting above her, turning her back to the door, and tugging her headscarf over her eyes. “Novaaa, go to dinner…!”

“Oh no, he’s there!” came a voice that was very much not Nova’s, “I brought you something to eat, Gemma.”

It took a moment for Gemma’s groggy mind to fully recognize the voice, but when she did, she rose out of bed slowly from surprise; her headscarf fell around her neck. “...Serena?”

Serena came in at the sound of her name, all smiles and polka dots--she was in that pretty red dress that Gemma had complimented to no end (and that Nova had said he’d made her, and that Gemma could still not believe that Nova had made with his own, human hands), carrying a tray of bread and mugs along with her. She reminded Gemma in that instant of the old picture books her grandad would read to her when she was little, of milkmaids and farmhands living happily in the flower fields of Zwaardsrust before heading off on a grand adventure; all Serena needed was her hair in braids.

Well. Not really, actually, Gemma thought, because then Serena would look too much like Veronica, and she rather liked Serena the way she was.

“Oh, my! You’re looking much better already,” And if such a profound healer like Serena was saying that, Gemma supposed it had to be true, “Do you think you’re well enough to eat something?”

Good question, actually--Gemma supposed she was feeling a bit peckish now. “I… maybe? Is that a good idea for me?”

“As long as it’s nothing too heavy, yes.” Serena closed the door behind her with her back before entering the room in full, setting the tray she’d brought on a nearby table. “Some fresh, warm bread ought to do you good. And ginger ale will do wonders for nausea!”

The scent of the bread wafted through the room. That was one of Gemma’s favorite smells in the world, and her stomach made a noise again--but this time, it was an honest to goodness growl, and she was too relieved that it was a normal sound to be embarrassed that Serena heard it. Then Serena giggled her sweet giggle, and Gemma felt just a smidgen of embarrassment, but not enough to deter her from food.

“That sounds... really good, actually,” Gemma stood up from the bed, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and made her way to the table with care. “Did you bring all this for me, Serena?”

“I did!” Serena waited until Gemma had sat down before doing the same. “Although… I was hoping if I could join you, if that was alright. I couldn’t eat much of dinner tonight.”

“Oh, no! Ah, I mean--of course you can stay, but did you get queasy, too?”

“No, not quite,” Serena waved aside the worry bashfully, and reached for the bread; she cut a generous slice for Gemma before serving herself. “There was cabbage in some of the servings. I’m allergic.”

“Oof, that’s a rough one,” Gemma nodded in sympathy as she reached for the butter, “My grandma? She’s got a little onion allergy. Refuses not to eat it, though, so it makes cooking a right nightmare sometimes.”

“Gosh, I can imagine!” Serena covered her mouth while she chewed, soft and dainty, like a pretty princess Gemma had dreamed up long ago. “You’d have to substitute it, I’d imagine?”

“Oh, of course--but Grandmum’s so stubborn about it, y’see, so we have to be careful with switching things around so she doesn’t see. Nova’s had to sneak me fennel from him and his mum more times than I can count,” And speaking of, actually... “You know, I’m surprised Nova didn’t come with you!”

“Ah ha, well! He tried to, bless him,” And Serena laughed behind her hand, and that princess Gemma had dreamed up seemed more and more to come to life, “But we all know what he’s like when he gets worried. Nobody was having it when he said he wanted to come with! Erik had gone far enough to sit in his lap to feed him by hand so I could leave alone.”

Gemma squeaked, and put down her mug before she could take a drink and choke on her laughter. “Crikey, I didn’t think he’d actually do it!”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Oh--I was teasin’ Nova, before I got here. Told a little fib about reading his diary. And I said to Erik, if he tried to follow me, to do whatever he had to to stop ‘im,” Gemma raised her mug again, and grinned around the rim. “Might’ve given him a few ideas on how to do that.”

Serena’s eyes went wide as dinner plates, her cheeks tinged pink, but she soon fell into a fit of laughter--a bit more boisterous than her giggles, Gemma noted, but no less elegant and lovely. “Goodness, I wish I’d known it was that easy! Veronica teases him sometimes, too, but he always seems to shake it off. I didn’t think anything could get under his skin! You must have a gift for speaking ‘Nova’, Gemma.”

“Aw, it’s nothing special, really,” Gemma tugged off her headscarf and fiddled with it in her lap just the slightest bit shy, “I’ve just known him a long time, is all. I know what buttons to press.”

She wasn’t sure she could keep talking about herself, with Serena praising her so genuinely for something so small. She had to shift the topic. “But, you said Veronica’s tried? What’s she done before?”

“Oh! So,” Serena set down her mug, and her hands fluttered to life, a story on her lips and fingertips, “there was this one time, I remember quite clearly--we were visiting Gallopolis, and it was a particularly dry day—Veronica made a joke about Nova’s hair, and how he must use an army’s worth of conditioner?”

Gemma hummed, already understanding where this was going. “And he had no idea what she was talking about, right?”

“We were floored! Erik looked like he was about to lose his mind when he said that. I wouldn’t be surprised at this point if you told me he’s never used a brush in his life.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t get away with that one, not if his mum had anything to say about it,” Gemma shrugged, clearly faking exasperation, “Dumb boys, right? What can ya do?”

“Not very much at all!” Serena laughed again, and it struck Gemma now that Serena’s laughter was so striking to her because it sounded like a melody--a sweet, simple song that made Gemma fall into laughter too, and into a gentle, easy evening gossiping with her new friend.

~

They talked late into the night, much later than Gemma had realized, but not enough to make it urgent. Serena had a calming aura about her, which was something she’d always known since meeting her, but her voice had such a timber to it that all of Gemma’s earlier troubles were forgotten. 

They swapped stories, about nothing, about everything. Gemma talked about Cobblestone, about growing up with Nova (“I can’t tell you the real embarrassing stories, he found out I told Erik about when he put the slimedrop in his hair and he’s still mad about it,”), about how she wanted to go into the clothing business, and how some of the other kids thought she was odd for liking math so much. Serena responded in turn with stories of Arboria, about her and Veronica’s misadventures (“Oh, I was so hungry, Gemma, you have to understand, I was desperate to get out of studying! And the page had a picture of an herb on it, and I just--”), about all her favorite books and songs and plays, and, “I would be happy to loan you something, I have some books I think you’d rather like!”. 

And Gemma was sure she would like them, but hearing Serena tell her about those stories instead was fulfilling in its own way. She was such a gifted storyteller--Gemma could have listened to her forever.

She might have very well done just that, the way they were going; Serena was just finishing up an explanation on the musical complexity and range of Graham Globe when Gemma yawned, much louder and longer than she’d meant to. She clamped a hand over her mouth in shock, and it took her a moment before she could meet Serena’s worried gaze.

“Oh, gosh,” Gemma felt her cheeks burn. If it had been Nova, she wouldn’t have been nearly as embarrassed (he’d seen much worse with nary a blink as a response), but she couldn’t stand the idea of Serena having seen that, “Serena, I’m so sorry! I’m not bored, or anything, I promise.”

“No, no! You’re perfectly fine, Gemma,” Serena took it all with grace, as Gemma must have imagined she did with everything, “If anything, it’s my mistake. I didn’t even realize how late I’ve been keeping you.”

“‘Late’? But it’s not…” Gemma’s point was lost as soon as she turned to the window and was met with the dark, night sky. “Oh! Well, what do you know?”

“The lamp’s almost out of oil, too,” Serena noted, “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“I’ll say,” Gemma wasn’t about to comment on how happy she was to hear that Serena had fun talking with her, there were bigger concerns at hand, “Should you be getting to bed, Serena?”

“Hmm… oh, probably,” She sounded disheartened by the idea. How odd, “but I would hate to leave if you’re still unwell.”

Oh. That was right! She was seasick! That’s why they were here! Gemma had all but forgotten about it, though now that Serena brought it up, she was conscious of the dull ache slowly growing again in her stomach--not painful, yet, but present.

“Well…” Gemma placed a hand over her stomach, brows furrowed, “We dropped anchor already, didn’t we? I don’t think it can’t get much worse until we start moving again.”

“No, you’re right,” Serena admitted, “I suppose I’m just being a bit of a worrywart… but, since we’re talking about it? I wanted to ask you something, Gemma.”

“Yes? What is it?”

Serena reached forward, tentatively, curiously, and picked up one corner of the blanket around Gemma’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you lay down in the hammock?”

“Uh--” Her sudden forwardness stunned Gemma into silence, and it took a moment for her to collect her thoughts. “I--it didn’t seem like the best idea, you know? If all this rocking is what’s making me sick, then more of it would just make it worse, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, no! Quite the opposite, actually.” Serena clapped her hands together; her expression was still no less concerned, but her eyes sparkled with knowledge she was more than happy to share. “Sea sickness is just motion sickness. Laying in a hammock helps cancel out the movement of the boat, so you should have a much easier time sleeping in one than a bed.”

“Ah--no kidding!” So much for the hammock being a weird addition to the room. She wished Sylvando had mentioned that earlier. “You think that I should…?”

Serena, ever the dedicated healer, nodded assuredly. “With how out of sorts you were, I don’t think it would hurt.” 

“Well… I guess you know best. Gosh, I hope it’s as comfy as the bed was,” Gemma fiddled with her scarf in her lap, laughing a touch awkwardly to herself, “Definitely won’t be as easy getting in, that’s for sure. Never was too good getting settled in a hammock.”

“No?”

“No, but… hm. I guess I might’ve been just too little, then? I could never get in one without… oh.”

Gemma stopped. 

“...O-Oh.” Oh.

Something… struck her, just then. She’d been sharing so many stories tonight so haphazardly, she’d barely given it much thought, but now that she was giving them thought, the dull ache in her stomach began to grow into a pounding intensity--the strongest it had been all night. She doubled over, wincing and whining and clutching onto her abdomen, and all too suddenly, she felt far too small.

“Gemma!” Serena was upon her in an instant; she’d barely let a gasp escape her before she began to reach out. “Gemma, what’s wrong? Is your seasickness back?”

But Gemma shook her bowed head, quietly denying the hands that came to her aid. 

“Gemma…?”

“I couldn’t do it,” Gemma spoke quickly, and pained, trembling in voice and body, “I couldn’t do it without Nova’s help.”

The confession alone made Gemma run cold. She’d agreed to this trip--to work in Derk’s stead, to organize the reconstruction of a kingdom she’d only seen in storybooks, to help her friend when he called on her--to make a point to herself. To prove to herself that she could stand on her own two feet, without relying on Nova all the time. Gemma had grown dependent on him, and complacent, she could admit that now, and such a thing wasn’t fair to her or him.

She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t bitter. They would always be best friends, Gemma always in his heart, and Nova always in hers, but Nova wouldn’t always be right next to her to catch her when she stumbled. She had to learn. She had to get better, but she’d already caused Nova so much trouble and worry with just a stomach ache--and now here she was, being a nuisance to Serena, too. Serena, who was so soft and gentle and impossibly lovely, who said her name so sweetly, who had only ever shown her kindness since they met that night in Heliodor, and Gemma couldn’t understand why, but it didn’t matter. A burden was still a burden.

She didn’t think her heart could bear much more of this.

“Gemma.”

Serena’s hands were warm over her own, pulling them away from her stomach, and Gemma realized just how badly she was shaking. And when she finally made herself meet Serena’s gaze, she found that Serena was looking at her with soft, gentle, almost revering eyes, and any response Gemma could have made was gone before it saw the light of day.

“...You know,” Serena started, “you and Nova are very much alike. You both think far too loud.”

Gemma sniffled, and pulled away one hand to rub at her eyes. “W-What do you mean?”

“You’re both rather hard on yourselves. You both take on so much, on your own, because you think that you have to do it on your own. And… to be fair, that might be true, for some things. But certainly not everything, and I think that ends up forgotten along the way.”

Serena paused, breathing in deep. Gemma couldn’t think of a time she’d ever seen her so serious. “Nova’s gotten better about it. He has a lot of help from a lot of people...plenty of people who are happy to remind him that he doesn’t have to do everything by himself. But, Gemma… I’m not sure if anyone has ever told you that.” 

She swallowed. “So. I’m going to.”

Gemma felt her shoulders tense, and her cheeks burned in the dimming lamplight. Her lips parted, as if to speak, but so in shock, she didn’t dare interrupt Serena now.

“I… I think you’re very amazing,” Serena said, “If I try to put myself in your shoes, I’m not sure I could do what you do. You’re a much braver and more resourceful person than I think you’re giving yourself credit for, Gemma. And I really mean that.”

And she really did, Gemma could tell, but she didn’t think she’d ever know why.

“So… please, don’t be disheartened. We can’t make it on our own--we need other people to help us, and they need us the same. Asking for help isn’t a crime, Gemma. It’s in our nature. It’s what makes us human.”

Serena bit her cheek. Her thumb ran circles around Gemma’s knuckles.

“...I wish I could make it better for you, just saying that, but… we both know I can’t. It’s a deeper problem that magic and words just can’t fix. But if nothing else… you should know I’m here for you. And I’ll help you in any way I can. If you can’t turn to everyone yet, please know you can turn to me.”

Gemma swallowed, but she nodded a grateful nod, and subconsciously squeezed Serena’s hands. She really did know, Gemma thought, she understood, and the world didn’t feel so lonesome anymore.

“...Thank you, Serena,” she sniffled out her thanks, but Gemma managed a tiny, grateful smile, if only for a second, “I’m… sorry, you had to see all that. I was planning to talk to Nova about it all, I swear…”

“Please, don’t be sorry, Gemma--I truly did mean what I said,” Serena patted her hands consolingly, “We’re all companions here, remember? And that means you and I, too.”

Companions. Right. The word alone alleviated some of the pain in her stomach; in retrospect, it figured that Gemma would stress herself sick. But it had been reassuring beyond measure for Serena to say that regardless. Nova would never tell her if she was causing trouble, so he was an unreliable opinion, but Serena had no previous attachment or ulterior motives to lie. 

If Serena said she wasn’t a bother, then Gemma could finally, slowly but surely, start to believe it.

“Now then,” Serena stood from her chair, her hand still holding Gemma’s, pulling her up with her, “let’s go and get you all settled, shall we? I don’t know about you, but I’ve always found a warm bed the best comfort after a good cry.”

She bent down a moment, to pick up the blanket that had fallen off Gemma’s shoulders, and wrapped it back around her. Gemma watched her, stunned, but vacantly grabbed at the blanket’s edges and tugged them over her chest. Satisfied with this, Serena gave her an affirming nod and smile, and stepped around her to prepare the hammock, and she watched her go, a thousand thoughts spinning in her mind, and suddenly-- 

“Serena?”

Serena stopped. “Hm?”

“Could I ask… would you stay with me? If it’s… not a trouble to you,” Gemma fidgeted with the blanket, burying her face in the fabric, “I--I’m feeling better, really, but I… I’m not sure I can be alone, right now.”

Goodness. Asking for help did ease some more of her aches, but it did nothing for how embarrassing such a thing was to say out loud. It wasn’t as though Serena hadn’t made… something of an offer like that herself earlier, but that had been before she’d seen first hand how needy Gemma could be. It felt silly of her, to bank on Serena’s support so soon after she’d made it known.

“It would be my pleasure.”

But Serena, voice tender and delighted and relieved, answered her as clear as day, as easy as breathing, and a part of Gemma had to wonder why she’d been worried in the first place.

~

As promised, Serena helped Gemma in first.

The hammock was snug, to say the least. Gemma wasn’t sure if that was because it was meant for only one person, or because she and Serena were just too big. Distantly, she remembered those warm autumn days where she and Nova and Sandy would nap in her grandfather’s hammock, but they’d only been children, then, and Sandy still a puppy; a part of her wondered if this hammock might fall over like Grandad’s did, too, when Sandy jumped on it fully grown.

But Serena climbed over the edge and settled in beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist like they’d done this a thousand times before, and Gemma pushed the thought away, because that was then and this was now, and now felt much more important to address.

Their legs brushed together, and Gemma jumped from the contact. “Ah! Sorry—“ It was unavoidable, but Serena was so warm and soft the brief touch made her heart race.

Serena whispered a laugh, and her smile illuminated by the moonlight made Gemma’s heart race even faster. 

“It’s alright,” she explained, hushed, “I’ve done this before. Veronica--she never got seasick before, but when she shrunk, it changed her center of gravity. The first few nights we were at sea, I stayed with her here like this.”

“O-Oh,” said Gemma, unable to parse if that actually did set her at ease or not, “was it... easier with her?”

“Easy or not doesn’t matter,” Serena answered, “I just want to protect what’s important to me.”

Something about hearing that made Gemma let go of a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding, and as her mind and lungs reeled, Serena raised her hand to the back of Gemma’s head, stroking her hair idly. She hadn’t realized until now, with her head near tucked under her chin, how much taller than her Serena was--or perhaps, Gemma was projecting confidence onto stature. It wouldn’t be the first time; Erik still refused to tell her his real height because her (apparently wildly incorrect) guess had fed his ego far too much.

“Shh--don’t overthink it,” Serena’s voice grew softer, more soothing than it already was, and Gemma felt her muscles start to lax from that alone, “Just feel. Let yourself relax. I’ve got you.”

Gemma had heard stories of mermaids before, and about how their songs could hypnotize even the most fearsome of sailors the seas had ever seen. Nova had explained that those stories of sirens were greatly exaggerated, but listening to Serena talk, and feeling the way her body gave in to her every kind request, she had to wonder if that was really the case. 

Serena had told her to relax, and she did. Serena had said that she had her, and Gemma felt beyond secure. She let her eyes close, to fully immerse herself in the feeling; the scent of a bakery was on Serena’s skin, and a hum buzzed delicately from behind her lips, and Gemma thought--

No. Don’t think. Just feel. And what she felt was...

“...Serena?”

“Yes?”

Gemma nuzzled herself closer to Serena’s chest, as close as she could dare. If she concentrated, she swore she could hear Serena’s heart beat like the beat of a drum, in perfect tune with her voice. “I think you’re amazing, too.”

Serena stilled against her, and for a second, Gemma worried that she’d gone too far, but she was pulled into a tight, warm hug, and the worry ebbed away with the quiet lull of waves. 

~~~

“Knock-knock, get the door, it’s Erik.”

Serena looked away from the window--she’d been watching the clouds roll by the rising sun as Gemma slept--and craned her neck towards the door with a smile. “Quiet now, it’s Serena.”

It took a moment of fumbling with the handle before Erik opened the door just a crack, slipping in without so much as a creak. From Serena’s angle, he looked like he’d just woken up, still in his pyjamas and hair more wild and askew than usual. It must have been earlier than she’d thought; Erik was usually one of the first awake, and he put enough care into his appearance to be dressed before anyone could see him this disheveled.

He closed the door behind him with a soft ‘click’, then turned to her with a knowing grin. “How’d I know,” he whispered.

Serena smiled at him, and there was an underlying air of mischief in her smile that she knew he would pick up on, and she whispered back, “Oh, you knew, did you?”

“Not exactly, but I had a pretty good feeling,” Erik shook his head with a sigh, but he wasn’t trying at all to hide his amusement as he made his way over, “Leave it to you to vanish for the night, and then be found cuddling a cute girl.”

“Well, that was just a pleasant surprise. But you and I have always had similar priorities, Erik,” She spoke wisely, knowing full well that she was correct, “I’m impressed Nova let go of you long enough for you to make it here.”

“It’s never easy. Despite what dinner would have you think, he’s incredibly clingy.”

“And it’s great?”

“The best,” He peered over the hammock to look at Gemma, still nestled up underneath Serena’s chin, “Seriously, though. Is she doing alright?”

“Mmn. Much better now,” Serena fiddled with the ends of Gemma hair between her fingers, “I think she was just anxious, is all.”

“That’s seeming more and more like a Cobblestone standard every day. Not that I can blame them.”

“It’s a good thing we’re here for them then, isn’t it?”

Gemma sighed in her sleep, and the two of them fell silent, but it quickly proved to be a false alarm; instead of waking up, she burrowed herself further into the blanket, and into Serena’s arms. Serena beamed at the sight.

“Man,” Erik whispered with a roll of his eyes, “and here I thought I had it bad.”

“You did,” Serena didn’t look up, “You had it worse.”

“Details,” he nudged Serena on the head with one knuckle, drawing her back to look at him, “I’m gonna go get dressed. I’d say you have another two or three hours before breakfast happens.”

“How long before Nova comes to check on her?”

“If we play our cards right? Hopefully he’ll sleep till midday,” Erik raised his fist above her, “I’ll keep him in bed long as I can.”

Serena raised her first in turn, bumping it quietly against Erik’s. “You’ll succeed.”

“Not unless I want to eat, too. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“And thank you for yours.”

Erik pulled back, his fist becoming a two-fingered salute, and he stepped away as quietly as he came. The door opened and shut again with barely a sound, and soon enough, the only sound remaining was the quiet crash of waves against the boat, and Gemma’s soft, peaceful breathing.

Serena had to watch her while she slept--to watch the way her lashes fluttered and chest rose and fell, to watch the subtle puff of her cheeks and the way her lips puckered ever so slightly, and Serena had no other option but to smile at the sight. 

She already knew that Gemma was amazing, for a multitude of reasons both said and unsaid, and had long since thought that--but it was always nice to see those facts take shape.

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Colour Me In (Part 9)

Maggie fixed her makeup in the mirror for the fifth time knowing Calum must be impatiently waiting for her to finish.

Calum is taking me with him to go pick up Luke. I'm freaking out

You're kidding me… You get to meet his friends before I do?

Apparently his friends aren't worthy of meeting Princess Eliza

Call me princess again and see what happens

I'm not afraid of you.. Luke terrifies me, but not you

You'll be fine, Calum, maybe, not so much

I gotta go, we'll talk later, THANK YOU ILYSM

Maggie finished her retouch and cursed her curly hair for the millionth time in her life. Calum had gone out for a smoke, and she tried not to crinkle her nose a bit at the smell as she walked up.

He noticed her expression, "yeah your sister hates them too." He quickly stubbed it out, "Let's go get Luke."

Luke climbed into the Range Rover and he was much taller than Maggie expected. He was mid sentence complaining about something Ashton said when he caught sight of her in the front passenger seat. His blue eyes went wide, and he started stuttering before whispering to Calum,

"You should've given me a heads up dude, I can't remember any of the signs."

Maggie giggled and Luke whipped his gaze back to her, "wait you could hear me?" She nodded and Luke looked more confused, "ok so if you're not Eliza who are you then?" She was pleasantly surprised at the accusing glance Luke gave Calum, but he just laughed and introduced them.

"Luke this is Maggie, Eliza's sister, and Maggie, this is Luke," Luke's entire face lit up with a smile and Maggie was sure she'd never seen a more beautiful man.

"Maggie, oh my God HI, I'd give you a hug, but that would be awkward in this car. I'm thrilled to meet you. He hasn't let your sister come around yet. Maybe if you come with her this dummy might not be so worried," Luke was clearly excited and bouncing his seat.

"What's he so worried about?" Maggie scoffed at the idea.

"He didn't know how to sign very well and didn't want her to feel left out. He thought about asking Kevin, but Kevin always gives Cal a lot of shit. You're perfect though." Luke stopped, blushing when he realized what he'd said.

"Real smooth Luke," Calum laughed and Maggie felt her face grow warm, glad she was dark enough not to visibly blush.

"Ok we'll drop you off at home or you can come with us to rehearsal, but you might get bored," Calum squeezed her hand. She had cheered up immensely since he'd first picked her up, and he kind of didn't want to leave her alone.

"I'd love to see you guys rehearse, but I know the dogs need let out and fed," Maggie tried not to pout, she hated her day had to end.

"What if we waited for you to take care of the dogs?" Luke asked, "then you can come hang out with us."

Calum thought it was cute to see Luke acting so eager. Maggie nodded and while that say outside in Calum's car waiting for her to finish up with the pets Cal filled Luke in on the internship, Kevin's mom and Eliza being out of town.

Are you really going to take my sister to meet all of your friends before I meet any of them?

It's not like that, please don't be mad. I'll make it up to you I promise.

I'm not happy about this at all, but don't say anything to Maggie. I'll talk to you later

Calum sighed, determined not to let Maggie see how worried he was. Luke was rambling on about how pretty Maggie was and did Calum think he had a chance with her.

"No, not in a million years," Calum told him and Luke pouted.

Michael and Ashton weren't quite as enthusiastic as Luke, but still welcomed Maggie like she was already family. Everyone agreed it was time the guys meet Eliza, and Maggie got a little choked up when she saw all the guys had made an effort to learn basic signs.

Ashton and Calum worked on a song Cal had been writing for a couple months while Luke peppered Maggie with questions.

"How do you know five languages"

"Practice, ASL and Portuguese I've grown up with the same as English. I learned Farsi very young, and Spanish isn't that hard to pick up from Portuguese."

"Why don't you drink?"

"Because I'm Muslim, no booze or pork."

"But you don't wear a headscarf"

"No, that's complicated. I've put serious thought into it, but my mother doesn't want me wearing a hijab. She says it will hurt my career prospects and potentially put me in physical danger."

"I can't believe you have to worry about someone hurting you for that," Luke was troubled at the thought.

Maggie shrugged,"I've taken shit for it most of my life. You get used to looking over your shoulder."

Luke frowned at the casualness of her response, and that her eyes betrayed the pressures she was under everyday just being herself.

Suddenly Calum switched on his bass and he and Ashton had the entire room vibrating so hard Maggie could feel the music through her feet.

It was a catchy groove and she was quickly nodding her head and feeling it. Calum was grinning her when they stopped.

"Is that new?" she asked.

"Yeah, I wanted to write something for my girlfriend, but since she can't hear I thought maybe she could feel it, is that dumb?" He stopped smiling and looked away suddenly shy.

"That's incredibly sweet, maybe she won't kill you after all," Maggie was in awe of everything Calum was doing to win her sister over. Not to mention Luke was giving her all kinds of feelings with his little smiles and winks, he was shamelessly flirting and she didn't mind at all.

"You know about that?" Calum looked surprised.

"Are you kidding she's mad at me too, I'm gonna get the worst of it," Maggie told him.

"How about we finally meet Eliza then," Michael cut in " everybody can come over to my house, we can have a picnic out back and meet the girl Calum is in love with."

Calum busied himself with his phone pretending not to hear Michael, or at least the last part.

He'd been drunk and emotional that night and Mikey just put him on blast in front of Maggie.

Calum looked up to find everyone staring at him, "did you say picnic? Sounds good? I need to make a phone call I'll be right back," Calum stuttered and went outside for a smoke.

"He's gonna kill you for that," Ashton warned Mikey.

"How serious is he? Why is he so nervous about you guys meeting Eliza?" Maggie asked.

"He doesn't want us to embarrass him in front of her, and we will," Michael ignored Ashton shaking his head at him.

"So you do this with all your girlfriends?" Maggie looked at each of them.

"Of course, right now Luke and Ashton are single, but Crystal has seen these knuckleheads at their worst so have their exes. Cal hasn't had a relationship since he was a teenager and now it's his turn," Michael shrugged.

"We're just teasing Cal, we are excited to meet Eliza because she's all he ever talks about. You should come, I know Cal was nervous about not knowing how to sign that well," Ashton tried to smooth things over before Maggie got them to say too much. He switched the topic to arranging Eliza's welcome party.

By the time Eliza came home a day later she'd calmed down quite a bit towards Maggie. It helped that Maggie was just beaming with happiness in the Snapchat she send immediately after Calum dropped her off. Mostly talking about Luke, but telling Eliza how excited the guys were to finally meet her.

When she got home they replayed the entire day, blow by blow with Eliza asking the questions for once. After Maggie had gone over everything Eliza was still annoyed at Calum, but excited about the picnic. First she needed to get things straightened out with her boyfriend.

I'm on my way over

Calum saw her message and his stomach dropped. They'd texted the entire time but Eliza was definitely being a bit chilly towards him, and this would be his first time seeing her since she went to Santa Barbara.

He met her at the door with Duke at his heels. Wrapping her up in a hug inhaling her scent and letting her hair tickle his face before his lips found hers. She'd only been gone a few days but they'd missed each other. The kiss deepened and his fingers dug into her waist  as her hands slid up his chest and around his neck. It was only Duke pawing at their legs eager to say hi that broke their embrace, but not before Eliza felt Calum get hard as she pressed her body into his. That would have to wait.

Eliza pulled him onto the couch sitting next to him but facing him.

"I'm sorry…" Calum signed but Eliza stopped him.

"That's not the problem," Eliza made sure he understood before continuing as Calum was trying to get less reliant on phones. "Maggie explained that you were worried about signing, but I've been deaf practically my whole life. I'm used to having to figure my way through situations. You know I lip read so please stop treating me like I'm going to break at any moment." Eliza stopped and Calum looked up from watching her hands.

"I didn't mean it like that," Calum signed back

"I know you didn't,but I'm deaf, not a child. If we're going to be together it's as equals. If I need your help you have to trust that I'll ask for it. I don't need you to protect me or feel sorry for me."

Eliza finished and Calum nodded looking so sad she thought he might cry.

Eliza reached out and stroked his jawline with her fingers tracing over his lips until he smiled at her.

"I'm really very lucky" she signed and he shook his head. Eliza swallowed hard and gathered her courage up to make her move. Her hand was resting on his chin and she made eye contact with him. She mouthed the words "very lucky" before sliding her hand to the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. He reached for her hips and she felt bold enough to lift herself up onto him so she was straddling his lap. Her dress was bunched up around her thighs and Calum's jeans were painfully tight as Eliza was grinding down on him as they were kissing. He trailed soft kisses down her neck as his hands moved from her waist to her breasts. His thumbs finding her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra and dress leaving her dizzy and breathless. Instead of stopping him Eliza pushed down on his neck slightly whole arching her back up towards him. Calum took the cue and eased her dress and bra down her heavy breasts spilling out into his hands. His mouth latched onto her nipple and she moaned loudly her hand gripping his dark curls. She reached down to tug his shirt off of him but Calum stopped her.

"What are we doing sweetheart?" He signed trying to make sure before he got too lost in the moment.

"You don't want to?" Eliza asked.

"I want to, I want you, but I don't think we're ready to have sex yet." Calum concentrated on his hands but Eliza nodded.

"We can do other stuff" She signed back.

Calum gave her a wicked smirk and hooked his arms under her thighs and stood up with her in his arms. He carried her to his bedroom and laid her down on the bed before removing his shirt.

Looking down at her messy hair, kiss swollen lips and exposed breasts slick with his saliva it took every bit of restraint not to take her right then and there. He knew he had to wait and take his time. Calum wasn't going anywhere, Eliza had him hooked completely. He remembered their conversation from San Diego.

"Let me show you something," he signed positioning himself on his knees by her feet.

Her eyes went wide, panicking when she realized what he meant. She'd never had anyone go down on her before. Both her ex boyfriends found the idea repulsive and made her feel ashamed for even asking about it.

"You don't have to do that"she quickly signed

"I want to" he signed back

"I don't think I'll like it"

"Let me try, if you don't like it I'll stop"

"Don't you find it gross"

"Hell no and any guy who says that is a little bitch, let me show you" he raised his eyebrows in a question, his eyes pleading with her.

Eliza nodded and Calum quickly had his lips kissing their way up her thighs. He licked a broad stripe through her panties and Eliza whimpered the sound going straight through Calum. He knew he might cum in his pants just from the sounds she made but he didn't care. He slid her panties to the side and began exploring slowly with his tongue letting her responses guide him.

It wasn't long before Eliza was pushing her panties off to give him better access.

Nothing had prepared her for this. The sensations Calum was sending through every nerve in her body had her feeling electric with need and desire. The way his lips curled around her clit as his strong fingers pushed inside her, the way he could be gentle and rough at the same time had her worried she might pass out from sheer pleasure. Her feet beat against the bed as Calum expertly worked her over. Eliza felt her orgasm building and tried to fight it not wanting it to end yet but Calum wasn't about to let her deny him. It wasn't long before her breathy little moans became shrieks as her hands were tight fists in his hair, her hips bucking against his face as he brought her to back to back orgasms.

Eliza was breathless and dizzy by the time Calum finished. She crawled up next to her and cuddled her as she came down from her high. She laid on Calum's arm and traced circles across his chest and stomach watching his eyes flutter shut for a moment.

Calum dozed off for a second still uncomfortably erect in his jeans when he felt Eliza unzipping his pants and beginning to tug them down. His eyes for open and she shot him a sexy smile and signed "my turn."

@wildhearthood @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @calumh-excess @cal-pal-cuddles @cal-puddies @angelbabylu @sublimehood @5sos-ficssmut @itstheholls

[rosalindmosis]

Jane Foster Week - Day 5 - RESPECT

This is a stretch on the theme but screw it. This also features the dog from AA because HE’S SO PERFECT.

It was one of her better days, she felt well enough to sit up and write her blog. She was wrapped in a thick blanket, wearing sweats, a dinosaur t-shirt and hoodie whilst Albie, a small rather wheezy rescue chihuahua-terrier mix was with to her under her desk whilst she typed. She loved everything about this dumb little puppy, from his huge vacant eyes, set way too far apart, to his nervous little yap. His only flaw, apart from snoring, flatulence and incontinence, sometimes all at once, was that he couldn’t bring her coffee.

‘Hey, I’ve been thinking…’ Darcy began, setting another mug by her laptop.

‘What about?’

‘Well… shouldn’t you start, y’know, telling people about the whole… cancer thing?’ Darcy took her own coffee and took a sip ‘I know you don’t want to know what people are saying on social media, but they are wondering why you’ve been… absent lately.’

Jane sighed ‘I don’t need pity.’

‘Well, don’t you think people are going to notice? It’s not exactly something you can hide for long. People are going to fill in the gaps.’

Jane just shrugged and brought her sentence to an end ‘People might also think I’m doing it for attention.’

Darcy almost choked ‘Are you high right now?’

‘God I wish…’

‘C’mon boss, this is serious,’ Darcy pulled up a chair ‘I mean you are doing it for attention- but that attention will do you good.’

‘Will it though?’ Jane turned to her ‘I’d rather just… get on with my work, no attention, no speculation-’

‘But you’re getting that regardless!’ Darcy insisted ‘You might as well set some people strai-’

‘Set who straight?’ Jane glared at her ‘What’s going on?’

Darcy looked nervous ‘Um… there’s a uh… a lot of chatter and talk… that you’re basically hiding away after Thor…’

Jane rolled her eyes ‘Well they can eat a line of dicks.’

‘I would normally say that too,’ Darcy bit her lip and ploughed on as Jane’s expression got more and more thunderous.

‘Um, I’ve been talking to my friend with the lecture circuit and he’s overheard someone say they’re a bit reluctant to get you back if you’re all reclusive and stuff and please stop looking at me like that.’

Jane gently dislodged Albie and stood up ‘Right.’

‘Okay, stop-��� Darcy stood in front of her, chest forward, standing in her way ‘let’s think about this. Let’s approach it with calm-’

‘You approach it with calm!’

‘Jane!’

She stopped, breathing hard and tried to focus on Darcy through the pounding in her ears.

‘I have an idea,’ Darcy told her, hands on her shoulders ‘you might not like it, but I think it’ll help. Feel free to say no.’

Jane listened, taking a deep breath and letting it out.

‘On one condition,’ Jane told her.

‘What’s that?’

‘Albie sits with me.’

‘Honestly that’s only going to make things way better.’

Phone calls were made.

The video came online the next day.

‘Hi everyone, it’s Jane and… I have a little… confession? No, I’m not guilty… um, announcement? I don’t know what to call it really… Some of you have been wondering where I’ve been for a while, or not wondering, why my blog has slowed down and I’ve not been doing my podcast lately… um… As you can see, I’ve not been feeling all that greatly.’

Albie stirred on her lap, nuzzling her side and whining. She’d upgraded to her favourite galaxy shirt, chunky knit cardigan, jeans and a new headscarf decorated with planets. She’d forgone the make-up, much to her annoyance, since Darcy pointed out people needed to see she was sick.

‘About six months ago, I was diagnosed with Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma, which is a type of blood cancer. After a biopsy and an unsuccessful set of clinical trials, I’ve been receiving chemo ever since and it’s… well, kicking my ass. Not going to lie. I’ve not felt much like doing anything lately, I’m tired… I’m sick and… well, I’m not great. At all. I’m still more likely to recover, so I’m definitely not dying yet, just thought I’d throw that out there. I am lucky to receive the love and support of my friends, and this poor puppy, but I’m… scared as hell, some of you may be aware- my Dad died of cancer and… I was always afraid it’d catch up to me one day and, well, here it is.’

She picked Albie up and cuddled him close.

‘I’ve made this video because I think… I think it’s important people know what is going on and because I desperately want to get back to work, to doing what I love doing, but I need time… God I hate being sick, I hate having to just sit back and wait and rest, I want to just leave my house and go to all the conferences and research trips I used to do but now… I want to, hah, I want to kick this cancer’s ass, but being a tiny fragile mortal… human science is my best weapon. So I’m just going to carry on as best I can.’

She blew out a breath.

‘I don’t want pity… although, good wishes and the like are super welcome, I want to keep going, so I’ll be back to doing my podcast as soon as I can and, with any luck, I’ll be well enough to make this year’s Geneva conference, if not in body then at least in face and starting next month, exact date’s still a bit up in the air, I’ll be going live on my Youtube channel and talking about a few pertinent subjects in science, particularly astronomy and astrophysics, and if you really want to know, I’ll be giving you updates on my treatment as well. So… with all that out of the way, I guess… see you on the next one! Bye!’

She waved one of Albie’s paws for good measure and the video cut off there.

‘I’ve uploaded a few photos of you in treatment as well,’ Darcy reported as Jane got up and carried Albie to the kitchen ‘you… sure about that?’

‘Well, they might as well see,’ Jane shrugged ‘I mean, there’ll be nutjobs who still think I’m faking it for attention, but at least this way I can make a show of not giving a rat’s ass.’

Darcy hugged her, out of the blue, and kissed her on the cheek.

‘I’m sorry, I know I suggested this and… I know you didn’t want to do this...’ she trailed off.

Jane smiled sadly ‘My personal life was down the swanny the minute I started dating Thor. It was only going to get worse after I broke up with him… if I have to gain enough respect to work by showing everyone I have freakin’ cancer then… then that’s what I have to do.’

‘You think people are going to make the connection?’

‘Probably, but… whatever, they can think what they like. I know I did the right thing.’

Darcy tried to smile back ‘You think he’ll get over it?’

‘I think so, especially if he ever gets back and see how I look now.’

‘I’ll tazer him into a coma if he says anything.’

‘No need…. I think… I think something’s happened to him.’

Darcy frowned ‘What makes you think that?’

‘I’m very sick and, well, even after I broke up with him, he’d still come back and see me, he’s not that bitter…. Well, I think so anyway.’

Darcy watched her ‘And… how do you feel about that?’

Jane shrugged ‘I don’t know. I’m… scared for him, but at the same time… what can I do?’

Darcy cupped her cheek ‘I know it pains you to say that.’

‘Thanks, but… it’s true. Right?’

Jane founder herself curled up on a bench outside on her balcony, holding her stupid dog and fighting the urge to check social media. She didn’t need to see the reactions, that was Darcy’s job. Her job was the same as it ever was. She left her phone in the kitchen and just finished a few blog posts in advance.

‘Next week’s talk on… oh God you’re going to try and make me say it… Subyamana… God I sound so white...’

‘Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar,’ Jane supplied.

‘That’s him, yeah, Dr Goh and Dr Chari- are okay to do a hang-out on that day at that time and I’ll edit it when you’re done.’

‘Cool… anything else?’

Darcy said nothing at first, but just stood next to her ‘There’s a lot of flowers arriving, requests for interviews and, like, a tsunami of well wishes. Also a lot of people want Albie to have an instagram account like, yesterday.’

‘He doesn’t do anything.’

‘That’s literally not the point,’ Darcy sighed ‘so… no regrets?’

‘Nope. Not yet.’

Darcy nodded ‘Good because I’d have to take the heat on this one if it backfired.’

‘There’s still time.’

Darcy snorted ‘Love you.’

‘Love you too…. And… thank you.’

Darcy posed ‘No problem. Just name a planet after me or something. That’s all I ask.’

‘I’m working on it.’

Darcy’s phone blipped ‘Oh, this one’s… interesting… back in a mo.’

Jane gave Albie a kiss and contemplated the future.

It might be very short, but… it was going to be interesting.

[writingbymaria]

The End of the Beginning short story by Maria

 I decided to take the long route to give Sonia some time to compose herself and also because I knew she loved the untamed landscape of Northumberland. She sat silent, staring out of the window and had it not been for her right foot constantly fidgeting I would have thought her utterly composed. That day was her sixteenth birthday. It was also the day that she left residential care of social services and returned to live with her mother. I say ‘returned’ but in truth it had been 15 years since mother and child had been together.

A leaden sky sat heavily on top of the sap green landscape and where the two collided a severe aura of pale light hit the horizon and the dry walls and the stripped branches. A Massey Ferguson merrily spewed out a filthy slurry on top of the tidy rows of earthy clarts. I watched Sonia’s eyes follow the tractor until it was out of sight and then blow her breath on the window pane and just as quickly rub it away.

Sonia was a tall girl with an aloof presence and a dislike of authority but with those she trusted she was warm and fiercely loyal. Her clothes were cheap, but I could see her homemade efforts to make them appear less so and it made me wonder what would become of this girl who was being taken from one poor situation and put directly into another. She had with her a black bin bag half filled with clothes and a cheque for the sum of £53. The clothes were her only possessions and the cheque from social services was to start her off in her new life. I worked it out to be around £3.50 for each year she had spent in care. She had no birth certificate, no passport, not a single photograph of childhood, just that bloody bin bag of clothes. As her social worker I was unsure if this was the right thing for her but it was out of my hands.

Eventually the sky became less dramatic and the landscape became more industrial. Giant cooling towers and chimneys pumped out thick grey smog and steel framed cranes replaced the bare trees of Northumberland. The roads became heavy with lorries and the people we passed seemed busier and more worked. Alert to the change Sonia sat up straighter, put her hands under her legs and ever so slightly her body rocked back and forth. Her breathing became more rapid and every now and then she exhaled heavily as if blowing out cigarette smoke. I placed my hand on her arm. Her eyes glanced towards it uncomfortably and I quickly withdrew it and replaced it with “are you nervous?” I knew straight away it was a stupid question, but she was courteous enough to reply with “I’m alright.”

When we had left Beaconhill an hour or so ago, Sonia had walked out with her head tilted slightly upwards and almost expressionless. Behind her a gathering of similarly clad girls stood by the entrance waving and shivering in the cold. A couple of girls waved half-heartedly or perhaps out of protocol. Most though shouted affectionate obscenities and two girls in tears crumpled against one another made it difficult to tell who was comforting who. She never looked back at them, not so much as a glance but I saw her eyes glazed and her chest rise and fall deeply as she made her way to the car. Like most kids in care she longed to go home but I am not sure if she understood the meaning of home or she simply craved the unbreakable ties of blood.

We approached the town of Redcar, a breezy town on the North East coastline. It was flat with broad roads and even at the furthest point from the sea, tiny grains of sand blew in the wind and the air smelt of salt. As we drove through the Lakes Estate it was difficult not to notice the cheaply built, prefab and cladded social housing. Despite the obvious poverty there was an undeniable sense of community. Women wrapped against the cold in headscarf’s and sheepskin mitts stood gossiping at the bus stop and half a dozen BMX bikes lay carelessly outside the news agent opposite. Dogs wandered the streets without their owners and it didn’t appear to bother any of the residents. We made our way off the main road and towards Sonia’s new home. The houses here were predominantly pale-yellow brick with white wood cladding. Each had a small fenced garden, a concrete shed and a concrete path leading up to identical doors.

I parked the car and got out. And there we stood outside of her mother’s house. The garden was scruffy and overgrown, and a cat sat looking down at us on the shed roof. Neither of us spoke for several seconds and I wanted to say something reassuring but I couldn’t think of anything, so I took her bin bag of clothing and made my way up the path. I knocked on the door, opened it and called “Irene”. She came out of the kitchen with a cigarette in her hand, still young, fashionable and very attractive. After some awkward and unnecessary small talk between myself and Irene I motioned to Sonia to sit on the stool and there she sat looking at her mismatched surroundings. Her half siblings Marie and Peter stood in the door-less doorway of the kitchen. They were small, thin and pasty with mousy hair and blue eyes. They said nothing but stared curiously at Sonia. There were no visible similarities between Sonia and her siblings.  The Jamaican genes on her father’s side had given her a mass of soft dark curls and skin the colour of milky coffee.  Despite this there was a marked likeness between mother and daughter, particularly around the eyes.

“Do you want a cuppa then?” Irene directed at Sonia.

“Yes please. What do I call you then?”

“I don’t know, just Irene probably.”

An expression of disappointment flashed over Sonia’s face so quickly, had I not been looking at her I would have missed it.  I felt a stab of pain and at that moment I realised there could only be one eventuality. Irene carried on oblivious and why shouldn’t she, she knew nothing about Sonia.

“You’re very big aren’t yer?” Irene asked rhetorically.

A stubborn Sonia looked her dead in the eye before turning away, unsure of how to respond.

“What’s in there, is that all the clothes you have?”

I felt like saying something, for Sonia’s sake. Though despite being her social worker, I lacked the qualification.

“Don’t be thinking of nicking mine,” Irene chuckled, a short burst of smoke escaping her lips.

“Not that you could fit in any of them, we are all little in this house aren’t we kids?”

Marie and Peter slid behind the door frame without answering.

I arranged a date for Sonia to visit my office and scribbled it down on a scrap of paper. I announced that I was leaving, and Sonia jumped up momentarily stricken with panic. Not wanting to make it difficult for her I pretended not to notice. I handed her the scrap of paper and walked to the door. Sonia sat back down, understanding that the situation was unchangeable. And that is how I left her, sitting on the stool in the kitchen of 23 Oxgang Close on the 17th February 1984, unsure if I would ever see her again.

[cathcacen]

Pulling Rank

Trigger warning: rape and flogging.

Nothing grows in Jämtland this time of year. It’s freezing cold, but she loves the way the world is covered in frost. It’s clean and pure, the perfect December day for wiping clean the slate of their past years’ misdeeds.

In contrast, Sagen is at intervals miserable at the cold, and then amused when she tells him about her family and her ancestors from the North. She explains her name, and how it had belonged to a great-great-great-great grandmother who had been an exceedingly effective matriarch.

They’re here for the adventure, and so they relish in the unfamiliar environment, taking joy in the challenge it poses. Both bundled up with snowshoes – like marshmallows on racquets, she giggles – they trek through the outskirts of a national park, seeking out unfamiliar wildlife in the form of reindeer and moose. They attempt ice-fishing and fail miserably. He skis, and she tries her hand at dog-sledding. When they reconvene, she’s sore, and he’s smug from having set a record time on his route.

She’s famished when he finally drags her away from the dogs. They have dinner reservations. “It’s not a sweats-and-hoodie sort of place,” He tells her, “So we’re going to have to go back and clean up first.”

The restaurant sits even further North, isolated from most civilisation. He refuses to let her snack, and she’s fidgeting by the time they pull up to the cabin, with its soft yellow lights and rustic aesthetics. He opens her door and she struggles to get out without falling over or tearing through the fitted, silvery dinner gown he’s chosen.

She recognises the structure immediately.

There are only sixteen seats in the restaurant. It’s austere and sparsely decorated – imposing in its barrenness, as if the owner had taken cue from the surroundings beyond. It’s empty, save for a single waiter who takes their coats and shows them to a table by the fire.

“Did you buy out the entirety of Fäviken tonight?” She hisses under her breath when the waiter has departed. “D’you know how many people would kill to be here? The place was booked to next December last I checked.”

He pushes her chair in as she sits, then rounds the heavy wooden table to settle directly opposite. She recognises that smug smile. “Better enjoy it while it lasts, Naveau.”

Their cabin is a comfortable, two-storey home surrounded by wilderness on three sides. It’s a little daunting to be so far removed in such surroundings, but she’s grown used to his need of privacy by now. It’s even enjoyable when one factors in the freedom to be as loud as they could possibly want, or need.

It’s a long drive, but she doesn’t mind in the least. The car is well heated, and above in the deep blue skies, the Northern lights guide them home.  

When they’re safely back indoors, shoes and parkas discarded by the heavy wooden door, she turns to him. In the dim yellow light, his hair is almost blond. She decides she likes the gunmetal better. It’s not the first time she’s seen him in a suit, but today’s is a sleek three-piece in a deep, almost navy-tinted grey. She bites her lip, lifting her eyes to lock her gaze upon his single working one.

“Naveau,” He starts, tilting his head a bit as she strides up to him. “Are you checking me out?”

The skirt of her gown rustles behind her as she walks. It’s a little ostentatious, heavily beaded from neckline to wrist and below, but tonight, it’s exactly what she wants to be in.

She cocks her head at him. He’s watching her, and something surges with satisfaction inside. “Maybe,” She tells him. “Why do you ask?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle as she bridges the gap between them, and she takes her time to run her fingertips, feather-light, upon the front of his shirt until the digits lock around the hem of his vest. “Why, Doctor. Because it’s inappropriate, of course. I am your superior, strictly speaking.”

She smirks, but neglects to withdraw her hands. “You do know I’ve been promoted, right? Then again, I suppose you’re still a thousand ranks above me, technicalities aside.” She casually flicks one button of his vest loose, and relishes in the effect it has. Standing so close together, they’re a string stretched taut, tense and just about ready to snap.

She loves when it does.

“My boss is your boss’ boss’ boss.” He’s maintained his stance thusfar, unmoving, waiting. She flicks the next button free, and his lips twitch, however faintly. It’s impressive. A lesser man might have crumbled by her hands.

But this one is always in control.

“Would you like me to call you Sir, then?” She stops at the final button, fingers tucked in between the vest and his shirt. “Because I can if that’s what you want, Sir.”

He laughs then. “I’d rather you didn’t.” His hands move to her back, one tugging her close at the waist while the other reaches for the zipper running along the length of her backbone. “It’d be distracting at work.”

She bites her lip. “But we’re not at work right now.”

His fingers drag the zipper loose slowly, the coarse sound cutting through the silence. She can feel the vibrations against her skin, the sensation both discomfort and utterly welcome. He chuckles as a shaky breath escapes her; she knows he’s out to win this game.

“You don’t want me thinking of you, and all the things you can do in the bedroom every time some private addresses me,” His lips brush lightly against her temple, and his breath is warm. “Do you?”

She lets out a faint laugh. It takes all of her strength, but she manages to break free before he’s done away with her gown. He growls, arms outstretched, and she laughs again. There’s something primal burning in her chest, and she can see it now, echoed in his eye. Let it out.

She tries for an innocent smile. “Why,” She breathes, her voice airy, “Why, yes, Sir.”

There’s a terrible case of stomach flu going around the camp, and she’s been running around all morning administering injections and fluids. The infirmary is close to full, and the sound of vomiting isn’t doing much to make her feel any less stressed. Most of the soldiers are behaving like babies - ironic, she thinks, when they try so hard to man up in the face of actual life-threatening injuries.

She’s just finished dealing with a particularly affected soldier when one of the lieutenants come for her. “Captain, your four-o-clock appointment is here.”

“I don’t have a four-o-clock appointment.”

“He says he made it a week ago.”

She rolls her eyes. Of course he did.

Sagen is waiting for her in his customary bed by the corner. He’s taken his shirt off, the blood-stained garment draped over the bed frame, and one hand holds a clumped-up headscarf to a deep gash on his other arm. He grins, and she wades across the haphazard space to his side.

“Having a good day, Naveau?” He winces as she takes his arm. Some of the thick blood coating his skin has dried somewhat, and he grunts as she tugs at the makeshift bandage.

“Better than you, it seems.” She tosses the soiled headscarf aside, then looks through the wound. “I can’t believe you had the foresight to make a pre-emptive appointment for fucking yourself up.”

“Tsk, tsk,” He chuckles. “Language, Doctor.”

She smirks at him. Surrounded by so many of their colleagues, she knows he’ll carefully maintain that facade of professionalism.

Doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun with it.

“My apologies,” She crouches down by the trolley beside his bed to find the necessary supplies. It’s a hot day, and she’s bunned her hair up. Beneath the wisps of hair that curl over the nape of her neck, she knows the marks from before are still visible. So far below the general line of vision, her smirk will go unnoticed by everyone else. “Sir.”

It’s barely perceptible, but his lips thin a little, and he narrows his eyes. “Naveau.” There’s a trace of warning in his voice.

She straightens with a triumphant smile and rolls his overbed table closer. Part of her feels almost guilty for teasing him, especially when he’s suffering from bloodloss. The other part relishes in his expression. This is for all that shit you pulled on me when we were back in that hospital. “Yes, Sir?”

He holds her gaze, and she blinks gently at him, barely managing to keep her smile mild and unaffected. His eye says it all. You’re in so much trouble the next time I get you alone. The mouth offers something far less impactful. “Could you get me some water?”

She takes his injured arm and lays it over the table. “Of course, Sir. Doctor Charles-”

The lieutenant from before runs off to fill the request, and she gets to work. It’s an easy enough task, and the injury isn’t too severe. He flexes his fingertips as she wipes the gash down with alcohol, and the first dig of her needle into his skin draws a weak grunt from him. She knows he’s watching her, so she keeps her eyes low. Downcast. Demure. Almost submissive.

They’d had fun with that, before.

By the time her lieutenant returns with the requested glass of water, she’s almost done wrapping him up. She leans over to check his torso, allowing her fingers to linger almost audaciously upon his lower abdomen.

“Doctor,” He supplies through gritted teeth. “None of that blood is mine, you know.”

She smiles sweetly as she glances up at him. Below, she drags her fingers down his bare skin, ending at his side. “Well then,” She says loudly, her voice light. “Everything seems to be in order. You’ve no cracked ribs.”

He stares at her, and she can’t help but to smirk knowingly at him. With her back to the rest of the infirmary, she feels surprisingly at ease.

So she winks at him. Then, she tugs her hair loose of its tiny bun, flipping the curls before turning to walk away. “Take care now,” She glances back over her shoulder. “Sir.”

It’s been two weeks. The people in the cells around her keep disappearing, and she struggles in vain between a myriad of emotions. Terror, anger, frustration, disappointment, hope, and heartbreak weigh in the strongest.

She’s already seen a man murdered. A soldier from her side, a middle-aged man that the sergeant had shot in the chest. To strike fear in her. To inspire obedience. To make a point.

She wonders if that man had had a family.

No one speaks to her. All day long, she hears the soldiers marching outside, the gutteral commands of their officers ringing out in a language that is both severe and hostile. If she jiggles the chains around her ankles hard enough, someone yells. She catches the word ‘bitch’.

Fourteen days into her internment, the sergeant visits her cell

She doesn’t stand. The man is a murderer, and deserves none of her respect.

“Captain Naveau,” He steps into the light, and his eyes are an icy blue. She thinks they’re a perfect match for him. “I hear you’re rich.”

She ignores him and turns away. If there’s a gun in his hand, she doesn’t want to know.

“Relax, girl.” He’s chuckling now, a low, husky sound that chills her to the bone. “I don’t want your family’s money. And I’m not going to kill you. If you listen to me, you may even come to enjoy your work here.”

He walks closer to her, and she struggles to back away. Panicked terror replaces defiance. If it’s not death he has in mind, then it’s worse. There’s nowhere to go - the cell is cramped, and she barely has enough room to turn, let alone run. The singular exit is blocked by the sergeant’s broad frame.

She’s trapped.

“Will you help us? Treat our officers, Doctor. And in return, I’ll be nice to you.”

She shudders. The word spills out. “Yes,” She whispers, and hates herself for it.

“Yes, what?” His feet come to a halt in front of her. She counts the straps on his boots in her mind. “Yes, what? Address your commanding officer properly.”

She refuses.

“Be a good girl and say it, won’t you?” The sharp sound of chains fill the air, and it’s as she flinches that she sees the tiny silver blades worked into the archaic, but certainly effective weapon. He lowers the whip, and she counts at least seven bladed chains as he drags them lightly against her cheek. “I won’t hurt your face. I like my women pretty. But the rest of you is fair game.”

She tastes blood.

By the time he rips the shredded remains of her prisoner’s uniform away, her back is slick and moist. Blood and sweat meld together, and she can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t form coherent sentences or thoughts. The searing pain cuts through her consciousness, and she’s only somewhat aware that he’s forcing himself into her. “Say it.” The words are harsh and accented, filled with malice and triumph. “SAY IT, GIRL.”

She denies him, and when he finishes, he digs his boot into the back of her head, grinding her cheek into the ground. The sound of his belt buckle makes her jump. He laughs as he rights himself, and pauses just long enough to spit at her.

“I love a girl with some heart.” His voice is filled with amusement. “Until next time, Doctor.”

[theartificialdane]

Galactica, part 236

In this we celebrate Thanksgiving from New Orleans to Long Island, and some have a jollier holiday than others!

Thank you @veronicasanders @toriibelledarling and @samrull for all of your amazing help and support <3

“Not too late to back out,” Bianca said, as their car service pulled up to her parents’ house outside New Orleans.

“It sort of feels like it’s too late…” Courtney answered.

“Nahh…” Bianca slipped a hand around her waist, pulling her close. “We can be at the Ritz in 25 minutes...room service...a fireplace…” Bianca kissed her neck as the driver unloaded their luggage.

Courtney rolled her eyes. “Let’s call that Plan B.”

Bianca grinned and let Courtney drag her out of the car. She held her hand, leading her up the walk, pausing for a second to say, “Brace yourself,” as she pushed open the door.

Courtney’s stomach was in knots. She had met a few of their family members before while she and Adore were in college, but this was different. She didn’t know whether it was good or bad that Adore wasn’t here - she’d chosen to spend the holiday with Alaska’s family in Pennsylvania. On the one hand, she’d have been another ally, but on the other hand, it may not help her cause for everyone to have a constant visual reminder that she’d started out as their baby sister’s best friend and was now dating their oldest sibling. She had a moment of panic when, swept up by a flurry of siblings and nieces and nephews and cousins, Bianca dropped her hand.

“Courtney! You look great, how’s it going?”

Courtney turned gratefully towards the familiar voice, giving Eddy a hug. “Hi! Thanks, how are you?”

“Pretty good, no complaints.”

“Congratulations, I hear you and Rose got engaged last week!”

“Yeah, well...you know, I finally accepted that you would never return my love, so…”

Courtney laughed, shaking her head. “Please stop, you’re gonna get us both in trouble.”

“Baby!” Bianca wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from Eddy. “Jesus Christ, I thought I’d never find you again. Come meet my sisters.”

Vanessa and Liz were polite, if slightly icy, looking Courtney up and down. “It’s lovely to meet you,” Vanessa said.

“That’s a cute dress, reminds me of that designer B’s friends with...what’s her name, Bianca?” Liz asked pointedly.

“Her name is Miss Fame, and that dress is Marc Jacobs. You nothing literally nothing about fashion,” Bianca replied, then turned to one of her cousin’s kids. “Chloe! Hi, pumpkin! How’s school?”

Courtney forced a sunny smile. “I don’t know the designers either. I just liked the print.”

“Right,” Liz said, with a slight eye roll.

“So Courtney, my daughter really likes your album,” Vanessa added. “I told her she had to wait a few years to watch the videos, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t listen.”

Courtney’s cheeks reddened a little. “Sorry.”

“I mean, it’s not your fault. They’re just a little racy for a seven year old. Hey, Maddie!” She beckoned her daughter over to them.

“Yeah…” Courtney cleared her throat as a girl with dimples and dark curled bounced over, hugging Bianca around the waist and looking up at her shyly.

Bianca lifted the seven year old off the ground.

“You’re Courtney, right?” she asked shyly.

“Hi, yeah, you must be Madison.”

The little girl’s eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”

“Well, I mean, I follow your mother on Instagram. So I get to see pictures of you all the time.”

“You /do/?”

“Yeah, I think your dog is really cute.” Courtney smiled, relieved to have someone else on her side, even a seven year old.

“I think YOUR dog is really cute! Oh my gosh, can they be friends?”

“Kylie would love that!”

Madison grinned. “Wanna see my American Girl Doll?”

“Definitely.” Courtney allowed the small child to lead her by the hand into the other room, thrilled to be stepping away from the mayhem.

***

“Sit still little man.” Katya smiled as she took a step back to admire her handywork.

Ivan was all dressed up, his chubby little cheeks red and his blonde hair water combed. Katya had bought his blue dress shirt and pants so he could match his daddy, Katya herself wearing the blue sky dress Trixie had made for her so many years back after she got out of rehab. Katya knew she should properly connect the dress to something sad, her time in upstate New York at the rehab clinic one of the hardest things she had ever had to do, her family abandoning her and the memories of the kind brown eyed man keeping her up at night as she had twisted and turned, but she didn’t. It had been made for her by a man that loved her, and she was going to wear it to every joyous occasion she could, and the first thanksgiving with her son was definitely just that.

Katya reached over and picked Ivan up, the little boy smiling his cute mostly toothless smile filling her with joy as he grabbed her hair. Katya laughed, gently freeing her blonde locks from her son’s grib.

“Let’s go show daddy how cute you are, huh?”

“Dada!”

“That’s right little man.” Katya kissed Ivan’s head and made her way towards the kitchen where Trixie was cooking up a feast with the help of Laila and Pearl.

***

“Apa kebar, are you sure I’m saying it right?”

“You’re saying it perfectly lovely eyes.” Sutan smiled as he walked up the steps to his mother's little yellow house, Violet’s hand in his, his girlfriend holding Frida’s leash and the small box that contained her gift to his mother. Sutan had tried to tell Violet time and time again that she didn’t have to bring anything for his mom, but his girlfriend still insisted every time, just like she stumbled through the greeting ritual of his culture, her words clumsy but her intend so clear you couldn’t do anything but love her.

Violet nodded, and Sutan reached out to ring the doorbell, his mom opening the door, a big smile on her face as she hugged them, Sutan getting kisses and warnings that he was getting too thin, Frida even treated to a gentle pet as his mom accepted Violet’s gift of a simple, but beautiful vintage headscarf in a pale yellow with a kiss to Violet’s cheek as well.

“Com in com in.” Mani stepped aside, letting the couple and their dog step inside. “Dinner almost done, eveyone in livingoom.” Mani opened the door, Raja and Raven already on the couch.

“Fame, what are you doing here?”

Sutan was so surprised to see his friend sitting in the armchair by the fire, that he didn’t see Violet’s face at all, his girlfriend's eyes widening in horror when she realised that it was indeed her boss, none other than Miss Fame herself, that was in the living room, her gigantic Great Dane napping on the carpet, the three woman playing cards while they waited for dinner.

***

‘’Can everyone go home already? My head hurts.” Betty was draped over the couch, her arm over her forehead in a dramatic gesture.

“Kitty, hate to break it to you, but they’re not here yet.” Shane set some more plates on the table, preparing for the Thanksgiving dinner they were hosting for members of Bach Street Boys with their plus ones. Ruby had nearly suffocated Shane in a hug earlier when he told her that of course she can bring Max, no question about it.

The turkey was still in the oven, but mashes potatoes were already ready, along with gravy, cranberry sauce and an array of other delicious dishes they spend the entire morning making (Or, Shane did. Betty helped cut some vegetables until she announced her cold was getting better of her and she settled on the couch, downing her cold medicine with half a bottle of wine). She was currently half-sick, half-drunk and fully in an awful mood.

“What do you mean they’re not here? Are you making that much noise all by yourself? Ugh.”

At that exact moment, the doorbell rang and Shane hurried to the door to let in Raga and his girlfriend Evah, who carried a tray of pumpkin pie.

“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Are we first? I brought Ruby the cutest skirt from Japan, I swear she is going to /die/ when she tries it on. Is she really bringing that mysterious boyfriend of hers? Hey, Shane. Long time no see.”

“How was Japan, Evah?” Shane asked as the blue-haired girl climbed to her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Amazing as always. I brought stuff for you guys too, so no worries. Where’s Betty? Take this to the kitchen, will you, babe?” Evah practically shoved the tray of pie into Raga’s arms and pranced into the living room, leaving the men behind in the hallway.

“Must’ve missed her a lot, huh?” asked Shane, a little sarcastically. Evah was Raga’s high school sweetheart, a rising star of the e-sport community who made money hosting gaming livestreams. She was very into Japanese fashion and pop culture. Somehow Betty has learned the word ”weeaboo” and rarely called Evah anything else since.                                                                          

“House was quiet without her,” shrugged Raga, handing Shane the pie.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Betty craved death. Even though her fever went down slightly from the meds, her throat was in flames, her head ready to burst open and she also felt nauseous and dizzy from the wine. Evah was showing her photos from the convention in Tokyo she went on, but Betty could barely see anything because of her watery eyes.

“You know how many makeup Youtubers want to collab with me all of a sudden? I only do cosplay makeup, it’s a whole different world, you know? Bets, you okay? You don’t seem well.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m dying.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear about that. Maybe I’ll go help the boys in the kitchen then?” Evah awkwardly patted Betty’s arm, a gesture Betty completely ignored, and bounced away to the kitchen, her frilly skirt dancing in the air the last thing Betty saw before her eyelids closed.

The next time she opened her eyes, a freakishly tall man dressed in all black was standing right above her, pointing at something. ‘’Sorry, but what the hell is this?’’

“Max, come on. It’s Betty. She’s a little sick, obviously not her best day, give her a break,” winked Ruby from the table, raising a glass Betty’s way with a brilliant smile, visibly way too proud of her joke.

“Can everybody please fuck the fuck off?” Betty whined, grabbing the nearest blanket  and wrapping it around her arms.

“Not really, you invited us, remember?”

“Ugh. I guess.” There was a loud noise and a curse coming from the kitchen which Betty ignored, instead opting for getting up and making her way to join everybody by the table. The cold meds made her hungry.

“That doesn’t answer my question. What the hell is that… statue? Is it like a statement? Does it… mean anything?” Max pointed at the Poseidon statue by the window. It was wearing a scarf wrapped around its head like a turban and was as ugly as ever.

Raga raised his head from a half-finished serving of mashed potatoes and snorted. “That’s Shane’s best friend.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I think he loves that ugly thing more than he loves me.”

Shane was in the kitchen making noise, unable to confirm nor deny the statement. With a shrug, Betty reached for a bottle of red wine that stood alone in the middle of the table, but when she felt a coming coughing fit, she wasn’t able to do anything to stop it. She knocked the bottle over, the wine immediately spilling all over the table and onto Ruby, who was closest, staining her cream white skirt. Ruby jumped to her own salvation, knocking over some glasses and screaming, and caused Evah to cry out, “What the fuck, Ruby, you stepped on my foot!” The guys tried to save the situation but they only managed to make it worse, flailing around. Betty slowly but surely moved away from the table and she was the first to notice Shane in the doorway, defeated, black smudges on his face and white t-shirt.

“Guys?” Nobody heard him. “GUYS!” he screamed.

All the heads turned towards Shane.

“What?”

“I burned the turkey.”

***

Courtney walked down the hall, trying to find her way back to the living room through the maze of the Del Rio’s house, when she paused, hearing her name. One of Bianca’s sisters was chatting with someone, probably a cousin. She stopped to listen.

“...well yeah, it’s just, she’s never taken anyone home before so, you know, I always figured Bianca was holding out for someone, like...I don’t know…”

“I get what you’re saying. She’s like, sweet, but it’s a bit anticlimactic. Liz keeps calling her a gold digger, but that’s not really the vibe I get. It’s more...just...I don’t know…”

“Right? I’m not trying to be mean but I sort of expected B to bring home a supermodel who happened to be a nobel prize winner.”

Courtney closed her eyes, having heard enough, and walked quickly back to their room.

COURTNEY: Your family hates me

ADORE: Yeah, well, they hate everyone. Why do you think I never go home? Did they try to put you in a mental institution?

COURTNEY: No

ADORE: OK so what are you complaining about?

COURTNEY: lol

ADORE: Eddy loves you

COURTNEY: Yeah. We’re BFFs. He was totally my type, when I dated guys. Except he appears to have a moral compass, so...maybe not

ADORE: HA! I’m telling him you said that.

COURTNEY: OMG DON’T YOU DARE I’M ON THIN ICE AS IT IS

“Hey! There you are!” Bianca walked into the bedroom, wrapping her arms around Courtney’s waist.

“Hi, sorry.”

“We’re about to sit down for dinner. I have to warn you...they promised they would make vegan-friendly stuff but my mom just said ‘vegans can eat eggs, right?’ So I can’t really promise that this food is safe.”

“Oh, that’s...that’s alright. I’ll just eat vegetables.”

“I mean, right, but you know you’re in the South. So we count mac and cheese as a vegetable.”

“Well, that’s insane.” Courtney hugged Bianca around the waist and laid a head on her shoulder. “I guess it’s a cheat day?”

“I guess so. Sorry, baby.”

***

“Mmh.. You’re such a good kisser.” Katya smiled, her and Trixie were on the bed, Trixie on top of her, his weight comfortable, her hand in his hair, his shirt open, Trixies soft, plump lips between her own. Katya had taken one look at her husband in his pink Thanksgiving shirt, and she had jumped his bones straight away.

“My sweet bo-” In that moment, Katya realised that the sour smell in the air wasn’t Ivan’s diaper, but rather a very different unpleasant smell. “Is something burning?”

“Oh fuck, the pie!” Trixie sprung up like a pig that had been bitten, racing to the kitchen, a surprised scream coming from outside their room.

“Dude! No! Keep your man boobs in your room!”

“Sorry!”

Katya laughed, the holiday peace truly settling over the little home on the Upper East Side.

***

“We’re flying flowers in from Fiji, they look /amazing/, I can’t wait for all of you to see it at the rehearsal dinner.”

Violet smiled to herself, Raven had been talking about her wedding all through dinner, the woman so excited about the party that she was practically vibrating out of her skin, every conversation with her somehow ending up on the subject.

“Vey nice, vey nice.” Mani stood up, the old woman reaching out to take the dishes, but Violet quickly jumped in. “Let me.”

“You good gil Violet, you vey good gil.” Violet blushed slightly, still proud of the fact that Sutan’s mom liked her so much.

“You’re welcome.” Violet picked up the pitcher of water and the wine glasses before she left the room, Mani and Raven staying behind, but as Violet walked out into the hallway she saw that the door to the backyard was open. Violet felt her heart drop, sure that Frida had somehow gotten out but when she got there she saw Sutan, Raja and Fame all standing together, the three of them passing around what looked like a cigarette. Violet could hear Raja and Sutan laughing together and the low voices of the group chatting. Violet turned around, ready to go to the kitchen Frida that had left the living room came bolting down the hall, the little dog smelling the night air.

“Frida! Frida no!” Violet ran after Frida, not knowing if the gate in the yard was open as she bursted out through the door. “Frida!” Violet grabbed the little dog, the pitcher in her hand emptying out on the grass, the water splashing and hitting Fame’s pants.

“Violet!” Violet looked up, her eyes wide as Fame raised her voice. “What do you think you’re doing-”

“I’m sorry Miss.”

“I don’t care about your excuses!” Fame’s tone was sharp, and Violet felt her stomach clench as she stood up, the pitcher on the ground, Frida in one hand, the stack of plates in the other, Raja and Sutan starring at both of them. “Have you hit your head? When did you become incapable of doing the simple task of not spilling like a toddler? Are you a toddler Violet?”

Violet was just about to respond when she was interrupted.

“Hey, Fame, I know you showed a giant stick up your ass when Patrick left you, but don’t be a fucking bitch okay? Nothing happened and Violet didn’t do it on purpose.”

Violet could see Fame’s chok, the woman’s eyes wide at the way Sutan had just spoken to her, but Violet turned her back, escaping before she could hear Fame’s respons. She knew she should be happy that Sutan was standing up for her, but it just felt humiliating. Like he didn’t trust her to stand up to herself. Violet could hear the talk in the garden pick back up again, Raja clearly mending the situation, all three of them soon laughing together like the old friends they were.

“Eveyone! Time for pie and TV! You come watch movie with Mani.”

“Yes mom!”

***

“Bianca,” Liz defended herself with an eyeroll, arm around her older sister. “I’m not saying it to be a bitch.”

“Right, I know, you being a bitch is just a fun side effect.” Bianca sipped her wine, rolling her eyes.

“I’m trying to look out for you! Look, I’m sure everything is just sunshine and rainbows right now, but really think about this...do you think this girl, this 22 year old, would be with you if you didn’t have money?”

“Well, I don’t know, Liz, I mean, if I didn’t have money...what would I be doing? Like actually no money? I don’t really think she’d be with a homeless person, if that’s what you’re asking, so...what’s your fucking point, exactly?”

“My point, B, is that this girl is clearly playing you. How long into your relationship did she get a recording contract? And now she’s on Housewives? Adore said she was only ever with guys before, and then she meets you, and all of a sudden, she’s a lesbian, overnight? Because of someone old enough to be her mother? More like she saw dollar signs--”

Bianca stood up. “Okay, you’re done now. Thanks for the advice, now you can shut your fucking mouth.”

“Bianca!” Aida exclaimed, passing by her daughters, collecting empty plates. “Watch your language, there are children here.”

“Tell Liz to stay out of my goddamn relationship,” Bianca said angrily, “Or I swear, we’re leaving right now! I am not staying and listening to this bullshit about my girlfriend being a gold digger. Fuck you, Liz--”

“Mija, mija, please…” Aida soothed, putting an arm around Bianca’s waist and a hand on Liz’s shoulder. “Elizabeth, why are you antagonizing your sister?”

“I’m NOT! I’m just trying to help her!”

“No, actually, you’re just being a CUNT--”

“Bianca! Stop!” Aida cried. “You know she’s just projecting because of her divorce, honey.”

“Mom!” Liz said, offended.

“Well, sorry, mija, but you’ve been very bitter. Courtney’s a nice girl.”

“Thank you!”

“I mean, she’s too young for you, but that’s not her fault.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Bianca threw up her hands.

***

“Oh god I want to die.” Pearl groaned. She was laying on her side, her stomach growling with all the food she had eaten, the top she was wearing almost painfully tight but she couldn’t phantom getting up to change,

“That’s what happens when you have four helpings of green bean casserole.” Pearl opened an eye to see Laila stand at the edge of the bed, her girlfriend in a band t-shirt and panties, her short legs on full display and if Pearl could have felt hungry in any way she would have fucked Laila into next week.

“You’re not being a very good girlfriend right now…” Pearl knew she was pouting, but it didn’t matter when Laila laughed and got underneath the covers with her, her girlfriend pulling her into a hug

***

Bianca climbed into the bed, wrapping Courtney into an embrace, sucking gently on her neck. “Hi,” she murmured, caressing the skin of her waist.

“Hi yourself…”

Bianca’s hands continued to wander, and her kisses grew heated. She let out a whimpery sigh, tangling their legs together.

Courtney shifted, hands stroking her back, looking up at her with an amused expression. “Seriously?” she whispered. “Are you really trying to have sex right now? There’s like 40 people in this house…”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a very stressful day.”

“No shit. I’m fucking exhausted, B.”

“Please, baby, I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” Bianca wheedled softly, fingertips trailing down her arms.

Courtney closed her eyes. “That’s all I need, for your family to think I’m a nympho in addition to being a gold digger.”

Bianca laughed. “You can bite on a pillow.”

“B…”

“Do you remember Thanksgiving last year?” Bianca breathed into her ear.

Courtney bit her lip, suddenly bombarded with the sense memory of their first kiss, the surprising softness of Bianca’s plush lips, the pressure of her full hips against the kitchen sink, the shivers that raced through her body, the nervous anticipation, the feeling that her whole world was about to shift. If only she knew just how much…

Bianca cupped Courtney’s face in her hand, a thumb tracing her lips in the same gentle way she’d done a year ago, voice an urgent whisper. “I’d never wanted anyone more in my entire life, than the way I wanted you.” Her hips began to roll, pressing Courtney into the mattress.

“Bianca…”

“Did you? Did you want me too?”

A whimper escaped Courtney’s lips as she arched up against Bianca’s body, gripping her ass. “You know I did. So, so much…still do...”

Bianca nibbled a trail down her collarbone, hands sliding under her top. “Let me give you what you need, baby…what we both need...”

“Yes…” Courtney replied, breathless, succumbing to the desire that flooded through her. She closed her eyes, realizing that she’d once again been betrayed by her body, by her weakness for Bianca’s touch.