#will be mulling on the next few this evening and tomorrow too!

[astromechs]

i now have the tag 'unhinged rebelcaptain AUs' both for my organizational purposes, and your viewing pleasure, to save all the stuff i've come up with for that AU ask game 🥹

[lynzishell]

The Past 🩵 Asher

Feeling dehydrated and achy, I wake up to a thin stream of sunlight peeking through the window at just the right angle to blind me when I try to open my eyes. But I don’t mind. I welcome the day with open arms as I stretch my body out, settling onto my back with a smile as I remember the night before.   

Y’know, my biggest fear is drowning, especially in the ocean, and yet, my favorite place is the beach near my parents’ house, sitting right at the water’s edge. Being with Atlas, it reminds me of this place. The bright blue of his eyes, the sandy color of his hair, and the dusting of freckles across his nose. And the way being near him makes me feel just a little nervous, like at any moment I could get swept away and lose myself completely.

I can still feel his lips on mine, soft and sensual. I’ve never been kissed like that before, so slow yet passionate, like he was drinking me in and savoring every bit. My entire body lit up when his tongue found mine, and even now, as I indulge the memory, replaying it again and again, I feel my body respond. Closing my eyes, I bring my hand to my abdomen and slowly slide it downwards. But just as I tuck my fingers under the waistband of my underwear, my phone buzzes behind me, making me jump and pulling me out of the moment.

“Jesus Christ,” I whisper to no one in particular as I reach for my phone. I’m not surprised, but still mildly disappointed that the text is from my sister Iris and not Atlas.

[Iris: Are you coming home this weekend?]

In a lot of ways, my parents’ house will always be ‘home’ to me, but I still feel a prickle of annoyance at her use of the word. Like it’s her way of not wanting to let me go. Eventually, she’s going to have to get used to the fact that I’ve moved out and I’m not moving back. I suppose it will take some time though, especially considering how often I do go back and visit. Not for her. For my dog. I miss him, but as much as I want him here with me, sleeping at the end of my bed, it wouldn’t be fair to take him away from that big house with lots of room to run and stick him in a tiny apartment where he’d be alone all day. It just feels cruel.

I take a moment to mull over her text, unsure how to answer. It seems presumptuous to not want to make any plans this weekend, but if there’s any opportunity to see Atlas at some point, I’d like to. It would be nice to go on a proper date. But I also don’t want to get too ahead of myself. He seems like the type that needs to take things slowly, and I’m not exactly known for being good at that. So, perhaps it’s better if I make other plans for the weekend, if only to keep myself in check.

I flop back on my pillow with a groan and type out my response:

[Yeah, I’ll be there in a few hours.]

But then I delete it.

[Asher: Maybe tomorrow. I’ll let you know.]

What can I say, I’m weak.

However, I do stop myself from sending Atlas a text, so we’ll call it a win. He said he’d call, so I’ll wait for his call.

In the meantime, I decide to get myself up and out of bed. Half the day is already gone and I’m starving.

Prev // Next

[shares-a-vest]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 8: Miscommunication

wc: 657 | Rated: T | cw: Angst with Unhappy Ending

Tags: Literal Miscommunication, Missing Someone, Angst with Unhappy/Ambiguous Ending, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Teacher Steve Harrington, Modern Universe

'Steve's Bed'

Steve stares up at the big, stupid canopy hanging over the bed and folds his arms.

What’s the point of such a luxurious, expensive bed if he has to spend so much time in it alone? If he had known that matrimony with a rockstar was going to be like this, well –

Well, maybe he wouldn’t have not not married Eddie Munson but… He would have seriously considered just staying in Hawkins. Or maybe moving to Chicago with Robin. Or Dustin’s fucking college campus where the kid teaches!

Steve frowns – maybe that last one is a little weird.

But at least he would have someone. Instead of a gigantic bed that has been his alone for so long, he can’t even detect Eddie’s cologne and (still) cheap shampoo on his side of the bed.

A side of the bed that isn’t really owned by someone else anymore.

It is just Steve’s bed.

And he hates it.

He isn’t naive. He knew Corroded Coffin would be touring for months to celebrate their most recent album.

But there were supposed to be breaks at most, phone calls at least.

Even if he doesn’t get to see Eddie in person, he should be able to talk to him or video call.

But nope.

At first, it was a few missed connections. The tour bus was out of range of service on and off, then the hotel Wi-Fi was shoddy. Then Steve discovered that someone at the label screwed up part of the itinerary, so the copies he had on the refrigerator, in his work bag and at his desk at school became all but useless.

When a call finally did come, Eddie was tired and filled with excuses. When it was Steve's turn to talk, he knew his husband was barely listening.

And then it happened again.

And again. Over and over.

Eddie was always distracted or in the middle of doing something else. Even when he said he was available to talk.

Steve used to be able to brush it all off. Have more patience.

He screws his eyes shut, begging the universe (and his brain) to let him get some shut-eye. He needs to start grading papers the moment he gets to school tomorrow.

But his mind is a race of every instance he hasn’t talked to Eddie. Every moment he was almost able to talk to Eddie. Every moment he wanted to. Needed to.

And each time it made him ache.

His heart is aching.

Perhaps more than ever before.

The thing is, he foolishly thought that the whole Rockstar Thing might be temporary. Maybe it's even selfish for Steve to have ever thought that way. He just figured that after they both hit forty, Eddie and the rest of the band might want to slow down. Even settle down.

Hell, he thought that would happen when they finally got married.

But somehow, it got worse.

More lonely.

Steve pulls back the covers, hoping that a late-night snack might lull him into some sort of food coma to get him through the next few hours. He grabs his phone and shucks on a navy-blue robe embossed with his initials, ‘SM’ now.

He clenches his phone in his hand as he walks down the long and winding main hall of the penthouse, mulling over whether he should call Robin at this hour. Steve gathers the collar of his robe tight to his chest, chilled now that he is out of bed. It might be too big and have the world’s most extravagant canopy, but at least the covers are warm.

He grinds to a halt, just shy of the cavernous living area. The whole place has become some sick and twisted version of his former family home. An empty place. Devoid of life. Where he is left cold and alone.

Steve unlocks his phone and squints against the bright screen light, searching for his lawyer’s number.

[hyungieyoongi]

Shooky

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Established relationship + FLUFFY FLUFF

Word Count: 700+

A/N: I am already missing Yoongi Boongi and he is not even gone yet, so I wrote this little drabble to make my heart warm 💜 

Yoongi shut the door quietly behind him, slipping off his shoes in the entryway of your shared home. He shushed Holly as the dog came bounding up to him in excitement, awoken by the noise of his owner coming home at such a late hour. Yoongi bent down, petting the dog affectionately, cooing at him to get him to be quiet.

With Holly now happily following after him, Yoongi made his way through the dimly lit house toward your bedroom, the door still nudged open from Holly coming to greet him. The small poodle snuggled back onto his dog bed in the corner of the room, quickly falling back asleep now that his two favorite people were back home.

Yoongi sat on the edge of the bed near your sleeping form, trying to decide whether to wake you now or save the surprise for tomorrow morning when you inevitably found him sleeping next to you. He watched you sleep for a moment, peacefully unaware of his presence. He mulled it over, considering letting you rest undisturbed, but he couldn't wait.

He rubbed your arm gently, whispering your name, trying to wake you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, wake up,” Yoongi whispered, waiting for your eyes to open.

You groaned quietly, upset at being disturbed from your deep sleep. You squinted up at Yoongi, momentarily confused before you could make out your boyfriend’s form in the dark room.

“Yoongi!” you nearly shouted, voice rough from sleep. You shoved the covers away from your body, immediately sitting up so you could wrap your arms around him; his arms tightened around you instantly.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Yoongi murmured, words slightly muffled as he spoke them against your hair.

You pulled back to look at him, eyes taking in every detail about his features that you had missed for the past month while he was away at training. His hair was short, of course, but you still hadn’t gotten used to it after seeing him with long, dark locks for so long. You cupped his cheeks between your hands, squeezing his bread cheeks together slightly, making him laugh—you missed that sound.

“I missed you so much, Yoongs,” you said. You blinked a few times to rid yourself of the tears that started to accumulate.

Yoongi grabbed your hands in his own, taking them away from his face so he could kiss the back of both of them.

“I missed you too, love,” he said, leaning forward to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to deepen it when he pulled away. You whined, making Yoongi chuckle at your impatience.

“Wait a second,” Yoongi said, reaching over to your side to grab the stuffed plush taking over his side of the bed. You felt your face heat up as he brought it in front of your face to show you. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Should I be jealous that you’re sleeping with Shooky instead of me?” You grabbed the plush out of his hands in response, wrapping it in your arms protectively.

“That’s so not fair, Min! You leave me for a whole month and expect me to just not have anything to cuddle with while you’re gone? I don’t think so!” You responded, scoffing lightly at the thought of sleeping alone while your boyfriend was away.

“Oh, is Shooky better at cuddling than me?” Yoongi asked. You rolled your eyes at his antics, placing Shooky gently on the floor next to the bed for safe keeping.

“Of course not,” you conceded. “I would much prefer to be cuddling with you.”

“Just making sure you didn’t replace me,” Yoongi said, left side of his mouth quirked up in a teasing smirk.

“Shut up and come cuddle with me before I kick you out and bring Shooky back to bed,” you threatened, laying back down and pulling the covers up to your chin.

Yoongi stood up, kissing you on the forehead before making his way to his side of the bed.

“Shooky can stay on the ground tonight, alright?” Yoongi said as he got comfortable under the covers, wrapping his arm around your waist to bring your body closer to his. You smiled, the warm feeling of comfort washing over you; the kind that can only come from having the love of your life home with you.

“I’m sure Shooky won’t mind.”

---

Check out my other work! ❤️

Taglist: @alpacaparkaseok​ , @delacyrose224​ , @aianloveseven​ , @dulce-pjm​, @milk-and-moni​, @wittyreader​, @royallyjjk​, @themochiverse​, @moondearing, @jiminshairline​​, @starstruckfangirls

[phantoms-planet]

Barred Protection

Chapter Four

AO3 Here

First | Prev | Next

---

“What do you mean it’s happened again?” Percy Daelus heaved out a sigh. His assistant toed at the worn tile floor nervously. “Was it given too high of a dose?”

“No, it’s the same dose it gets every day.”

“And it’s stopped producing tears again?”

Carter nodded before pulling up the reports from the subject’s newest feeder. Daelus growled. He hated this one, she was so scared to get close that a few times the subject had gone unfed. As if a protection entity would just up and hurt someone. The thought made his eyes roll.

He read the report, all too similar to a handful of others, before getting to his feet. While it pained him to abandon his paperwork he knew he wouldn’t get any more if the subject couldn’t produce what they needed.

“Have the handlers enact Protocol Seven. I’ll deal with this.”

His assistant sped from the room instantly. Daelus stalked out of his office, growling at anyone who passed him in the halls who seemed ready to grab his attention. They could all wait.

A handler met him at the door. “Sir, he’s been lowered. Are you sure-?”

“I don’t pay you to question me, open the door.” He snarled.

“Yes, right of course, sorry sir.”

The door slid open and Daelus snapped his eyes to the floor. Subject P was curled in a tight ball staring blankly at the walls. Its chains were resting open beside it. As per the protocol the screens were shut off. Biting down another growl at the setback he knelt by the figure.

It barely responded when he scooped it into his lap. Gentle as possible, Daelus ran his fingers through the stark white hair. It moved on its own already. It were as if there was always a wind ruffling through the locks. Hypnotic, he always found it.

A small whimper drew his attention to Subject P’s freckled face. It was twisted in a grimace. “Shhh. It’s alright.” A part of Daelus wondered if the subject took the form of a young boy for a reason. The people he’d bought it from, loons called the GIW who insisted the entity was a ghost, hadn’t given any explanation for the choice.

“Hush now, everything will feel better soon.” There was never proof that this being even understood him. He still kept his tone low and soft. “People are getting better thanks to you. We just need you to cry again.”

Subject P writhed to get closer to him. Another whimper. “I’ll be here until you can produce them again. I’m here.”

Long after his legs fell asleep and his stomach started aching the entity choked out a sob. Daelus grinned. It always took hours to get Subject P back to a proper state but it was worth it. “Go on now, that’s it.” Pride surged as the one sob turned into two, then a whole string of them.

Quickly the handlers went to hanging Subject P back up so the tears could be collected. Daelus brushed himself off before leaving to get back to his paperwork.

On his way back to his office the feeder ran into him. Literally. Daelus silenced her apologies. “What are you running through my halls for?”

“I was…” She gulped as she glanced the way he had come.

“Ah, feeding it. Don’t.”

“What?”

Daelus sneered at her. “You’re inadequate for this. Its gone unfed far too many times under your hands. Return to your lodgings. I’ll decide what to do with you tomorrow.” The feeder looked deeply relieved at that order. Another growl threatened him.

The first feeder had been torn apart by P’s scream, healed of course but still unwilling to return, the second quit after claiming to have grown attached to the “boy”, and the third refused to work after being in the room with the screens on as he fed P.

Frankly Daelus wasn’t happy with needing to find another. It shouldn’t be so hard to shove food in its mouth and leave. A frustrated sigh slipped from his lips as he sat back down.

Maybe switching one of the handlers to a feeder would work?

He mulled over this idea as he sat back down at his desk. Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to start on his paperwork again. A ringing came from his pocket.

Daelus sneered at his phone before breaking into a smile at the number. “Mr. Wayne!”

---

Clockwork was a mysterious man, even to other ghosts. He had much more power than many of them had and a domain that no others could escape. Many other ghosts felt justifiably wary when it came to the god.

Frostbite was very much not one of them. While Clockwork was fond of riddles and hands off guidance, the yeti could tell he wasn’t malicious. He didn’t always agree with the other ghost's methods but when it came to Danny he was willing to trust the process. Even if trusting the process made his skin all itchy at that moment.

“Are you certain this will end well for Phantom?”

Clockwork, a small child in appearance, merely gave a knowing smile.

With a sigh Frostbite turned to the mirror they had been observing the young godling through. He was physically very malnourished and there would certainly be a toll on his mental state.

It was painful watching the child choking out sobs. “The others are getting…impatient Clockwork. They want to know that he is somewhere safe.”

“I am aware.”

“How much longer-“

Clockwork shifted to an old man. The expression on his face changed from the almost smug knowingness to a worried scowl. “Admittedly they are taking longer to get to Danny than I predicted. Perhaps if I…”

“The Observants will not like what you are planning, will they?” The yeti was smiling despite the slight chiding in his tone.

“When do they ever?” A smile graced the other ghost’s face again. “There is nothing wrong with a little nudge; a lucky break. If they don’t like it they are welcome to try interfering with this time-stream themselves.”

Frostbite let out a hearty laugh. The god of time always got so much amusement out of pushing the buttons of the council. Frankly he couldn’t blame the guy. His brief joy was killed by the visual of Danny in the mirror.

“Are you certain we can’t-?”

“Yes.”

“But perhaps if-“

Clockwork set his hand on Frostbite’s shoulder. “No. The chance of one of us getting harmed and Danny snapping is far too high. He must be rescued by Her Knights. He needs to recover away from the chaos us ghosts bring for his own sanity. Everything is as it should be Frostbite; you must keep the others from changing this.”

The yeti nodded, resolve hardening at the certainty in Clockwork’s face. “I will assure the others and prepare a room for Phantom for when he is ready.”

“Good. He will need plenty of your help when he is more stable.”

[slaymitchabernathy]

Field Mouse

It's nearly dinner time by the time he gets back from the Seam. Coriolanus walked her back to the house but he wasn't invited inside. "Next time," she'd told him, lingering in the doorway, "when my family isn't home."

He hadn't quite known how she meant that. Did her family not like Peacekeepers so she felt it was best to keep them apart? Or did she want the house to herself to do...other things? 

He was hoping for the second option. 

Smiley hopped out of the bunk the second Coriolanus walked in, "How'd it go?" Coriolanus shrugged, not wanting to give out too much information, "It went fine. I didn't know the Seam was that bad." 

His bunkmate chuckled, "Poor people in District Twelve are the poorest people in all of Panem, at least you found a pretty one."

Coriolanus hadn't thought of it that way, how Twelve was technically the bottom of the barrel when it came to the Districts, ranking all District Twelve citizens at the very bottom. Below the bottom if he was being honest. In the dirt sounded better.

He sat down on his bunk and mulled over it even more. What would his friends say if they saw him running around with some poor girl with tattered clothes and a sagging house? He'd be the laughingstock of the Capitol for sure. He'd have to keep this under wraps. He couldn't afford any loose ends if he left for the Capitol. When he left for the Capitol was more like it. He was getting out of here, one way or another. 

"They're having an officers test tomorrow if you're interested," Smiley says, pulling Coriolanus from his thoughts, "gotta be Capitol to qualify so I figured you'd be interested."

Becoming an officer meant higher rankings, it meant actual pay, a salary, and possibly being relocated to a higher-ranking District, closer to the Capitol.

It was all lining up for him. He had everything he could need right now. The girl, the job, the hope. 

"I am interested. Thanks, Smiley," he says before grabbing his towel, he ought to shower before lights out, wash all the sweat off of him. 

He could smell the whole day on him as he scrubbed himself down under the shower water, it was mostly sweat and dirt. But a hint of vanilla lingered. He'd see her again at the Hob on Friday, maybe steal a few kisses and slip his hand under her dress. 

Coriolanus fell asleep with a content smile on his lips. It was all lining up for him. Finally.

꧁ ꧂

The results from the officer's test still weren't posted. Granted it had only been two days but still! Coriolanus had been one of two people to take it and the other guy walked out halfway through it. Needless to say, he was a shoo-in. If not for his impressive skills both physically and academically, then it was by default. And he was okay with that. 

Still, it bothered him. Bothered him to the point where he'd asked Commander Hoff about it. He told Coriolanus that the test was reviewed in the Capitol so it would take about a week to get the results back. A whole week to find out if he passed even though he knows he passed. Ugh. 

He didn't let it sour his mood as he walked into the Hob though. It was Friday night and he planned on having a good time. Music was already playing and people already dancing. He scanned the crowd for Soarynn's blonde head of hair and found her dancing with her cousin Jett. Even though they were family, Coriolanus couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. She should be dancing with him. 

He pushed through the crowd towards her, leaving his friends behind as he went to claim what was rightfully his. Jett saw him before Soarynn did and he leaned down to whisper something in her ear before disappearing into the crowd. Soarynn turned around and looked up at Coriolanus, giving him a big smile, "You came!"

Coriolanus smiled back at her, that smile of hers was infectious it seemed. "I did. Hopefully, I didn't scare your cousin off."

Soarynn waved him off, "Jett's been keepin' me company till you got here. He's got his eyes set on some girl from town, keeps hopin' to bump into her but he never does. Too busy workin' I guess." 

Coriolanus couldn't help but wonder what Soarynn did for work. She hadn't really specified but she didn't look like she did a lot of hard labor from the looks of it. "You wanna dance?" She asks, taking his hand. Coriolanus looked around, it was mostly miners dancing with their girls, but he wasn't used to this dancing, it was so...District. 

He shook his head, "Let me buy you a drink." He pulled her along with him, leading them to the bar where he wrapped his arm around her, breathing in the scent of vanilla again. It used to be the smell of roses that brought him true comfort, the smell of his mother's silver compact. But that was back at home, so he'd have to settle for vanilla. 

They waited a minute for their drinks and he watched the band on stage put on quite a show. There was a girl, tan skin, dark brown curly hair wearing some ridiculous rainbow dress up there twirling around and singing. She looked over at them, taking in the pair before her eyes found Soarynn's and she playfully wiggled her eyebrows. Soarynn snorted next to him before turning to grab their drinks.

"You know her?" He asks, looking back at the girl who'd already gone back to singing. Soarynn hummed, handing him his drink and taking a sip of hers. "That's Lucy Gray Baird, she lives a couple houses down from us with the Covey." He raised his eyebrows, the Covey?

"Is that some sort of band name?" He asks, casting the band another glance. None of them looked related at all. Soarynn watched them for a moment before responding, "Kind of. They're all cousins one way or another, not all by blood like me and Jett. But they're all related some way or the other. The little one's Maude Ivory, she's got real authority." 

Coriolanus shakes his head and laughs, looking down at Soarynn, "People in District Twelve sure come up with some strange names for their children." Soarynn gave him a small grin and shrugged, "We're strange people, Coriolanus Snow," she drawls. She's got him there, and she knows it. "I could introduce y'all if you'd like," she offers. As fun as that sounds, Coriolanus isn't too keen on meeting this band of musicians. He'd like to hear some other music for a change, like Soarynn's moans. 

He shakes his head, "No thanks. I'd love to go somewhere more quiet though." She gives him a look that lets him know she's on the same page, "There's a shed out back." 

The shed is more of a shack and it's dark, but Coriolanus doesn't complain. Besides, everything more fun in the dark. Soarynn leads them to a desk in the back corner and he wastes no time in wrapping his hand around her waist, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. Soarynn responds just as eagerly if not more and her arms wrap around his neck, tugging him down to meet her height. He smirks at how low she needs him. His girl's on the shorter side, so tiny he could break her in half. 

He picks her up and sits her on the desk, her legs dangling off the edge. her hands go under his shirt, those nails scratching his back lightly, "Take it off," she whispers against his lips, tugging at the fabric. He's never been with a girl this straightforward, who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. 

He gives in to her request and his hands leave her waist to tug his shirt off, showing her his sculpted abdomen, Soarynn let out a low whistle, "My, my, they sure whipped you into shape, pretty boy." 

Coriolanus rolls his eyes before grabbing her chin with her fingers, "I'd say it's only fair if you take something else off too," he challenges. Soarynn tilts her head and gives him a smile that's all too sweet, "You can take it off," she offers, gesturing to the pink dress she's wearing tonight. It's nothing fancy, old, and worn just like her other blue dress but this one has some embroidered flowers. Doesn't really matter when it's going to be on the floor in a few seconds. 

He's quick to grab the hem of the dress and tug it off of her, baring almost all of her to him. She wearing panties, white and lacy. Her breasts are bare to him as is the rest of her torso and he finally takes all of her in. She's underfed his girl, with her ribs poking out and her waist narrow. She stiffens up when she sees him noticing her rough edges, letting him know that despite how confident she appears, she still has insecurities. 

His hands go to her breasts, the perfect size for his hands and he leans back down to kiss her, rolling her rosy buds in between his fingers. Soarynn lets out a whine and her back slightly arches into him. He wonders how long it's been since she's been touched. "You ever been with anyone before?" He mumbles, pulling away to kiss up and down her jaw. Soarynn shudders when he pinches a little harder, "Does it really matter right now?" So she has. That's fine. He likes a girl with a little experience. He just hopes Soarynn's not a proper whore who's been run through by every miner in District Twelve.

He leans down to her collarbone and sucks hard, leaving a small bruise behind when he pulls away. "Nope," he answers, knowing he's never going to get a straightforward answer from her right now. His left hand lets go of her breasts and slips down to her thighs that are pressed together for obvious reasons but she immediately spreads them when she feels his fingertips.

"I like it hard by the way," she breathes, her own hands tangled in his hair. He has to swallow after hearing that. Any Capitol girl he's been with has only wanted it sweet and slow, but he supposes that he can be rougher with District girls who are far below any Capitol girl. 

So he doesn't even take her panties off, her just tugs them to the side before wiping a finger up and down her cunt, swearing when he feels how wet she is. Her hips buck when he grazes her clit, her hands settling on his shoulders as he slowly parts her folds. He wishes he could see this, see better in the dark, but their options are limited right now and he's not one to complain when he's got a perfectly good and willing cunt right in front of him. 

For a second he wonders if that's how she views him right now. A willing hand, a willing cock. Does she do this with other guys, other Peacekeepers? Just how much honey has this little bee had? 

"Hurry," she whispers, getting him to focus once again. "You're so wet," he murmurs, teasing her entrance with his finger. Soarynn whines, her nails digging into his skin, "For fucks sake hurry up" 

He doesn't like that.

He doesn't even think before he grabs her jaw, squeezing it hard as he forces her to look up at him. "Don't tell me what to do," he snaps, shaking her head for good measure. Her hand is on his wrist in another second and she digs her nails into his skin hard, she probably drew blood. He hisses and pulls away, glaring down at her but she's already glaring up at him, "I'm not one of your Capitol girls you can boss around," she tells him, sitting back on her hands, "if you're not interested there's the door," she juts her head towards the shed door he hastily closed when they got here. 

He swallows, not used to this type of behavior from girls. "Suppose someone found you here," he says, gesturing to her current state, legs spread, cunt bared for him. She gives him a wicked grin, "They'd be welcome to have me." 

She's a hornet. Not a bee. A fucking hornet. 

He's slipping his shirt on before he knows it, not even sparing her another glance before he walks out of that shed, fuming. 

He's moving so fast that he bumps into several people and the sound of instruments falling to the ground makes him cringe. "Sorry," he says, bending down to grab the closest thing he can grab which so happens to be a guitar. "It's all right, no harm done," a girl answers him. He stands back up to find it's Lucy Gray Baird, whom he's bumped into along with the rest of the Covey who's picking up their instruments. 

She recognizes him immediately, "You were with Soarynn," she says like it's an accusation. "You're correct," he answers her. Because he was with Soarynn. As in the past tense. As in he's never going to see that little field mouse again. That mouse that likes to dance with snakes. 

Lucy Gray looks behind him like Soarynn might be hiding behind him, "Well where is she?" The little girl, Maude something or the other pushes her way to the front and looks him up and down, hands on her hips like she means business, “Are y’all together? We saw you beat up Billy Taupe the other day. He had it comin’ though.”

At least these people haven’t lost all their senses. Coriolanus glances back at the shed, no signs of life coming from it, “She’s in there,” he nods in the general direction. Lucy Gray follows his gaze and she raises her eyebrows, “Ah, the shed.” What’s that supposed to mean? Was he really not that special? Was the shed her known place to take her toys?

Coriolanus is on the verge of spiraling when Lucy Gray pulls him from his thoughts, “Well I hope y’all had fun, but too much fun.” Coriolanus wants to tell her that he’s never going to go near her friend again for the rest of his miserable Peacekeeping service but he just nods before heading back to the Hob.

Ready to forget that little field mouse.

| Part 2. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[art-by-jas]

𝑁𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝐼𝑐𝑒 𝐶𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝐶𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝐹𝑖𝑥 AO3

Word Count: 2272

Summary: Sonny is feeling frustrated over the result of the ruling of their most recent case, You swing by to see if you can't bring him a little mood boost.

Sonny's face betrayed his frustration as he left the station, still grappling with the day's events. The Shakir Wilkins case had taken an unexpected turn, and the disappointment weighed heavily on him.

Benson pulls Sonny aside. "Carisi, go home and get some rest," she says sternly, her tone a mix of understanding and insistence.

“I still have paperwork to do..." he protests, though it's more a reflex than a genuine argument.

Benson fixed him with a pointed look. "No, you need to rest. You've been here non-stop for days. Trust me, the paperwork will still be there tomorrow."

Sonny nods wearily. "Alright, alright. I'll head out."

She gives him a kind smile. "Good. Take care of yourself, Carisi." With a final pat on his shoulder, Benson turns and walks away, leaving Sonny alone in the now-empty precinct.

With a weary sigh, he gathers his belongings, the weight of exhaustion settling heavily on his shoulders. He bids farewell to the few remaining officers, his tired mind already longing for the comfort of his apartment.

Heading home, he’s lost in thought, mulling over the case's outcome and what he could have done differently. Upon reaching his apartment, Sonny unlocks the door and steps inside. At least he had the next day off to rest.

Sonny sinks onto the couch, now dressed in comfortable clothes, his gaze fixed blankly on the wall ahead.

The knock jolts Sonny from his thoughts. He sits up straighter, momentarily surprised, then calls out in a raspy voice, "Coming." Sonny rises, stretching, and makes his way to the door. Though it was late, and he wasn't expecting anyone, he opened it to find you standing there. Sonny's surprise gives way to a small smile as he sees you at his door, Tupperware in hand. His weary eyes warm at your presence.

"Hey," he says, his expression one of surprise. "What are you doing here?"

You hold out a Tupperware container. "I heard you got in not too long ago, and I made these for you." The scent of fritole wafts from the container, making his stomach rumble.

Sonny's expression softens as he takes the Tupperware from you. "You made these for me?" he asks, a touch of disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah," you confirm, nodding with a soft smile. "I figured you could use some comfort food after today."

Sonny's fatigue and disappointment momentarily fades as he gazes at the container, touched by the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. The knowledge that you had worried about him and gone out of your way to make him this moved him.

You shrug, your smile warm and kind. "I wanted to," you reply softly. "You've been working so hard lately. I just wanted to do something to help, even if it's just a little."

"In that case, would you like to come in and help me finish these? I can't possibly eat them all on my own," Sonny jokes, stepping aside to invite you in.

You smile and nod, stepping into the apartment as he holds the door open for you. "Sure," you agree, your lighthearted tone mirroring his. "I'd love to. Sharing is caring."

Sonny closes the door behind you, the soft click of the doorknob. He gestures towards the living room, where a couch and small coffee table sit. "Sit down, I'll grab some forks." As Sonny disappears into the kitchen, the soft thuds of him moving around can be heard, followed by the clinking of silverware pulled from a drawer. Returning with two forks, he places the Tupperware between you on the coffee table.

"Dig in," Sonny says, pulling the lid off the Tupperware—the warm, inviting aroma of the fritole wafts upward, filling the space.

"Are they, okay?" you ask nervously.

Sonny glances at you, eyebrows raised slightly as if the question surprised him. He swallows the last bit of pastry, nodding appreciatively.

"They're amazing," he reassures you, the exhaustion in his eyes replaced by genuine joy. "Seriously, these are delicious. You made these?"

"The results in the kitchen can be hit or miss for me. It really depends on the recipe and my frame of mind at the time. I'm so glad you're enjoying them." You smile.

Sonny chuckles at your modesty. "You're too hard on yourself," he says, taking another bite of the fritole. "These are perfect, honestly." He leans back onto the couch, the tension visibly easing from his shoulders with each bite. Glancing at you, he wears a genuine smile. "You have no idea how badly I needed this," he admits, the exhaustion seeping back into his voice.

“Tough week?” You ask as you take another bite.

Sonny lets out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Not tough, just long," he says, staring off into the distance briefly. "Today's case... it didn't go as we hoped."

He takes another bite of the pastry, the sweetness of the treat momentarily distracting from the disappointment he felt earlier. With a hand running through his tousled hair, he confessed, "I can't shake the feeling we could have done more."

“Do you want to go to the shop on the corner and buy ice cream, eat our feelings while watching some kind of reality show?”

Sonny's lips curl into a small, weary yet grateful smile. Your casual yet sincere offer tugged at his heartstrings. "You serious? Like, binge-watch reality TV and stuff our faces with ice cream?"

Despite your best efforts, a smile creeps across your face as you reply, "Deadly serious."

Sonny lets out a weary but genuine laugh. He looks at you, appreciating the simplicity of your proposal. "Alright, I'm in," he agrees, nodding his head.

Sonny puts on a jacket and shoes. He turns to you, "Do you need anything from your apartment before we head out?"

"Nah, I'm good," you reply, patting your pockets to confirm you have your keys and phone. "Ready when you are."

"Then let's go," Sonny responds, his voice tinged with eagerness. He grabs his keys from the counter and holds the front door open, gesturing for you to step out first.

The two of you emerge into the cool night air, the street quiet save for the low hum of the city under the starry sky. Sonny leads the way to the nearby shop.

You and Sonny walk side by side, your footsteps echoing softly in the silence. Ahead, the small local shop comes into view, its "Open 24/7" sign glowing invitingly in the darkness. As you approach, the bell by the door jingles softly.

The shop's interior is small and cozy, lit by warm yellow lights. Sonny leads you straight to the ice cream section, scanning the flavors. "So, what's your choice of flavor?" he asks, glancing back at you with a small grin. "Cookie dough? Fudge brownie? We're going all out, so go crazy."

You step up beside him, studying the selection with a determined expression before making your selection. Sonny watches a small smile on his face. "Solid choice," he comments, then grabs a tub of fudge brownie for himself, unable to resist.

With your ice cream choices in hand, along with a few other snacks, you head to the counter to pay. The clerk rings up the items, and Sonny thanks him as he takes the bag of purchases.

"Ready to head back?" Sonny asks, holding up the bag. The walk to his apartment isn't far, and he's looking forward to a cozy night of comfort food, reality TV, and your company. You smile and nod, feeling a sense of comfort and joy at the simplicity of the evening ahead. Side by side, you both start making your way back.

As the apartment building comes into view, the warm lights from the windows welcome the pair. Sonny leads you up the stairs, the anticipation of the upcoming indulgence making the journey feel shorter.

"Make yourself comfortable," Sonny says with a tired yet genuine smile, placing the snack bag on the coffee table. He settles on the couch, remote in hand, and starts flipping through channels before landing on a house flipper show.

"How about we watch people transform crappy houses into modern homes?" he suggests, gesturing to the screen.

"Sounds like a plan," you say, as you join Sonny on the couch and retrieve the tub of fudge brownie ice cream you had selected earlier. Sonny reaches into the bag and pulls out his tub, and the rich, chocolatey aroma fills the air. He opens the lid, grabs a spoon, and leans back comfortably on the couch.

Sonny reaches into the bag and pulls out a tub of rich, chocolatey fudge brownie ice cream, the enticing scent filling the air. As he opens the lid and grabs a spoon, he settles comfortably onto the couch next to you. The soft glow of the TV illuminates the room as Sonny takes a savored spoonful, the sweetness melting on his tongue as he watches the renovation show unfold.

You and Sonny chat easily, the conversation flowing as naturally as the ice cream. You discuss work, your days, news, and amusing anecdotes. Despite his lingering fatigue, Sonny finds genuine enjoyment in your company, the mundane discussion providing a welcome distraction from the stresses of his job. He steals occasional glances at you, captivated by the way your eyes light up, your expressive features, the sound of your laughter, and the little quirks in your speech - all adding to his growing fondness.

As the commercial interrupts the show, Sonny takes another bite of ice cream, his eyes fixed on you. The tightness in his shoulders eases, the earlier tension unwinding in the comforting quiet of the evening. When the episode ends and a new one starts, Sonny glances at you, his face softened by a small, weary smile as the TV plays on.

"You're good company, you know that?" he says, his voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and fatigue.

"It's not often I get nights like this," he admits, sinking back into the couch. "Most evenings, I'm either playing catch-up with paperwork or schoolwork."

"You go to school?" you ask.

He takes another spoonful of ice cream, the sweetness coating his tongue. "I'm working towards a law degree. It's been quite the journey, I'll tell you. Juggling work, classes, and everything else - it's a real challenge, to put it mildly. But I'm making progress."

He looks at you, a weary yet resolute spark in his eyes. "After the whole priesthood plan fell through, becoming a lawyer is my new goal. I want to make a real difference - get criminals off the streets and behind bars where they belong."

Your eyes widen, you turn your body fully towards him and ask, "Priesthood?"

Sonny chuckles a hint of sheepishness in his expression. "My cousins became priests, and I was close with them. But I realized I could help more by going into law enforcement than by becoming a priest myself."

As he savored another spoonful of ice cream, the sweetness clashed with the bittersweet pangs of memory. "I spent a year in seminary school," he confessed, his words tinged with regret, "but it just wasn't the right path for me, though it was quite a journey."

He pauses briefly, his gaze turning inward as he reflects on the past. Then, with a small smile, he shakes off the somber thoughts and refocuses on the present. "But that's behind me now," he says decisively. "My sights are set on law school, and one day I'll be a prosecutor, ensuring justice is served."

The exhaustion in his eyes gives way to a determined gleam as he looks at you. "Maybe one day I'll be sitting in that courtroom, cheering you on," you tease playfully, a smile playing on your lips.

Sonny let out a soft chuckle, your words eliciting a brief moment of amusement that danced across his tired eyes. "I might just take you up on that someday," he replies, a hint of mirth in his voice.

"I think I'm about ready to call it a night," he admits, exhaustion evident in his tone. Rubbing his eyes wearily, the day's weight had finally caught up with him.

"Yeah, I've gotta open the shop tomorrow, so I better get to bed too,” you say.

Sonny nods, before he gathers the empty ice cream containers from the table, then stands and stretches his stiff muscles. "Let me just toss these out, and I'll walk you to the door," he offers. With the remnants of the evening's indulgence disposed of, Sonny returns and extends a hand to help you up. The weariness was now more apparent on his face, and the lines around his eyes were more pronounced in the soft light.

"Thanks for tonight," he says, his gratitude evident. Fatigue lingered in his eyes, but a small smile played on his lips as he escorted you to the door.

You smile, "It was no problem at all. I had fun."

Sonny opens the door as you approach, holding it ajar while you step into the hallway. He lingers in the doorway, leaning against the frame, observing as you cross the hall to your apartment.

Exhaustion and affection tinge his voice as he calls out, "Goodnight." He watches you walk away, his weary body betraying the fatigue that had settled in.

"Night, sleep tight." You smile, giving him a wave as you close your apartment door.

With a final wave, Sonny closes the door, the click of the lock echoing softly in the now-silent room. The apartment is quiet now, the only sound is the faint hum of the city that drifts through the walls.

Part 3

[itsybitsybluesy]

OPEN WATER

CHAPTER 5 // ELUCIEN / EXPLICIT / CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 for @elucienweekofficial Stuck in the Florida Keys and tired of letting her sisters make decisions for her, Elain ditches their group vacay plans and signs herself up for a scuba diving course on an impulse. The instructor Lucien tells her he’s never had to fail anyone after the four days she’ll spend with him. What’s the worst that could happen?

it's day 6: Fearless! elain faces her first scare underwater, and, well, these two idiots are experiencing some pain above water, too.

as a reminder: this fic will be 6 chapters, and the last chapter will be published on day 7: AU / Tension or Healing.

xoxo, and, importantly, tip your divemasters any time you dive (they are making sure you don't freak out and hurt yourself)! <3

***chapter 5 snippet under the cut!

On their surface interval between the dives, she chose a candy bar and cheerfully picked her way across the deck to stand next to Lucien, who was looking out over starboard, quiet with his bottle of Gatorade. 

“Hi,” Elain said, smiling shyly at him. She still remembered what he’d smelled like in the morning and how he’d tasted fresh from sleep. “I liked that dive site,” she said. ‘Will we do another wall today?” 

Lucien shook his head. “We’re going back to Molasses Reef,” he said. “You guys are all done with skills, so we can just take a look around, practice more buoyancy.” 

“And then I’ll be certified,” Elain said. And free to spend more time with you, she wanted to say. Look at me and you’ll see how much I want to. 

“And then you’ll be certified,” Lucien said back. But he didn’t look at her. She waited, drumming her fingers on the railing, until he turned and met her eyes over the rim of his Gatorade bottle. He took a swallow and wiped his mouth, throat bobbing. “Did you need help with something?” he said, his voice nothing but polite. 

Elain took a step back, as if he’d slapped her in the face. It was like the other day, like they were starting over; he was pulling back from her again with a vengeance, and this time she wouldn’t see him tomorrow. 

“I’m gonna go switch out my tank,” Elain mumbled, and turned and fled, knowing full well Vassa had already done so for her. So that was that, then, she thought desperately -- one awkward night in her hotel room the culmination of all their time together, and now he was back to acting like none of it meant anything. Elain shoved her fins under the bench, grabbed her BCD and angrily did up the snaps, trying to calm herself down. For a few moments she couldn’t focus, couldn’t have told anyone what she was even doing with her hands, wracking her brain for a reason he could be acting so cold when they’d been in each other’s arms just that morning. 

She mulled it over the whole way to the next dive, content to put mask on and regulator in her mouth during the briefing for an excuse not to speak to him. Lucien talked them through the plan, watched them step off the boat, flashed the Okay to Jurian and gave everyone the signal to descend. 

Elain was still fuming as she dropped down, the mild waves pushing her gently to and fro as she kept a hand on the mooring line. How dare he piss her off like this, she thought, ruining her last dive of the trip; she nearly batted at a parrotfish with her fin by accident, swinging her foot out of the way last-minute.

The surge rocked her to the left and then harder, to the right, and then Elain was jolted out of her anger by the mooring line scraping against her and knocking the regulator right out of her mouth.

[masterjedilenawrites]

A Silly Thing Like Sleep

Tech & The Bad Batch | 1.7k words

Content: one curse word, hyperfixating, "brotherly love"

Inspiration (from @rosemarynightmares): And someone should tell Fixer Tech to go tf to sleep, I'm sensing that he doesn't do that *nearly* enough.

No one could burn the midnight oil like Tech.

There was simply too much to do. Too many ideas, too many questions that needed answers. It's what he was made for, trained for, and the movements of his hands as they tinkered and fiddled and created, in sync with his mind as it mulled and mused and imagined, is what made him feel like... well, himself. He was grounded this way. Soothed, even. How could he ever stop for a silly thing like sleep?

A little after 2000 hours brought the first of his brothers into their room.

"Tech," Hunter nodded as he passed by. The Sergeant's hair was damp from the shower; he must have just finished training. "Don't stay up too late. Big day tomorrow."

"Yes, of course."

Tech only responded out of respect, his eyes fixed on the project in front of him. To the untrained eye, it looked like he was fussing over a mere black box. But he knew it to be an old surface isotope oscillator, a rare find whose parts held potential for so many of his other projects, or potentially brand new projects he had yet to discover.

Hunter settled into his bunk, pulling a sleeping mask over his eyes and jamming in some earbuds. Tech only barely registered the lights around Hunter's bunk going out. The Sergeant would be unaffected by his tinkering so long as his custom mask and earbuds worked, which Tech knew they would because he had made them. Depriving Hunter of two of his sharpest senses would be enough to keep him asleep.

2100 hours brought the next brother, Echo, just as Tech had managed to carefully remove one of the oscillator's outer panels. The clone eyed him as he passed back and forth a few times in front of the workbench in order to get ready for bed. Echo, unfortunately, didn't have much space to call his own and had to make-do with keeping his things in various places throughout the dorm, much to the chagrin of his disciplined and orderly habits.

Tech hardly noticed, keeping his focus on the delicate nature of his work. There were some wires, some chipboards, and several high-voltage rods he had to work through to get to the good stuff. Though an experiment on the device's stress-points would be beneficial, he didn't want Hunter to put him on laundry duty for causing an explosion in the barracks. Not again.

"You uh, going to be long?" Echo finally spoke up, having finished his bedtime routine and ready to slide into his hammock.

Tech didn't respond; he was in the middle of clamping some tweezers on a little microchip.

Echo shifted to his other foot. "Well, I'm going to turn this light out now, if that's alright with you."

Still no response. So Echo shrugged and flicked the switch that controlled the overhead lights to the room. There were still the glowing lights in the bunks and the safety lights around the door to the hall. But otherwise there was a nice dim to the room that made it much easier to fall asleep in.

Tech didn't even react to the change in lighting, continuing to transport various parts via tweezers to a tray he had set aside. After setting one down, he clicked on the flashlight feature on his goggles and continued, not skipping a beat, as if that was a step he was going to perform anyway.

Echo shook his head before climbing into the hammock and settling himself in for the night.

At 2330, Wrecker dragged his heavy feet through the door. He clunked down one of his weapons kits by his bunk and the thud did catch Tech's attention, at least for a moment. He looked up at his hunking brother as if startled to see another being around.

"You're not going to be making noise all night, are you?" Wrecker asked through a yawn.

"I'll be quiet," Tech gave a dismissive wave. As if Wrecker cared about noise when he could sleep peacefully through a siren alarm.

Besides, Tech couldn't control what noises these experiments would or wouldn't make. He had now set up a complex array of other devices and systems in order to plug in the oscillator's pieces and see what they'd do. He switched from twisting things apart and together to typing notes furiously on his datapad. Sometimes they made noise, sometimes they didn't, but that detail only mattered when the noise indicated potential backfiring. Otherwise he didn't bother noting it.

Meanwhile, the thudding of Wrecker's movements also jostled awake the room's other occupants, most notably Hunter. The Sergeant often tossed and turned, thought Tech had never understood why. His mask and earbuds worked perfectly, got his brother in the perfect sensory stasis to manage a full night's sleep, but there were still periods of wakefulness he couldn't account for. Hunter usually said something about an overactive imagination, though Tech didn't like that answer since there wasn't much he could do with that sort of information.

While Hunter readjusted and tried to fall back asleep, Wrecker was already conked out in his own bunk. The lights on his side stayed on for a bit, until Hunter finally pulled him up to turn them off. He paused on his way back to his bed, addressing Tech.

"Start wrapping up and get to sleep," he instructed.

"I will, I will."

That seemed to be enough to calm the Sergeant down and he eventually drifted off again.

Tech was now making trips between the workbench and his own bunk, though sleep was hardly part of the reason. His bunk was less of a bed and more of... an area, to house additional parts and manuals, keep certain hand-drawn configurations he hadn't had the time to transcribe onto a datapad yet, and of course, his great mess of wires that he'd pulled from the ceiling.

It was these wires he was clipping from, returning to the workbench, finagling some kind of rig between various bits and bobs, and then analyzing the output of data that resulted on his screen. He was starting to generate more noise as a result, but he knew Wrecker would start snoring soon and his tinkering would get drowned out anyway.

Just before 0100 hours, the last of his brothers, Crosshair, finally slunk into the room. Though the sniper wasn't purposefully trying to be sneaky - he really was just minding his own business - he still was so quiet and quick that Tech didn't even notice for a while that a third bunk now had an occupant. Cross stayed awake a short while longer, quietly thumbing through a book of some kind, before fixing Tech with a stare. He didn't look away until Tech had noticed, and then he promptly rolled over and went to sleep. Tech knew what the stare meant, but he didn't have time to explain why he couldn't go to bed right now.

No right now, he was knee-deep in his work. Literally. Somehow the projects had spread to encompassing larger materials and machinery, such that they had to be stacked on the floor around him for ease of access. He'd have to crawl over the table if he wanted to visit any other part of the room at this point. But he was done with his business in his bunk with the wires, and was now locked into the tedious tasks laid out before him.

0100 turned into 0200, which then turned into 0300. Tech was like a machine himself... going, going, going. Was he making any progress? Hard to say; he wasn't measuring things like that. Progress implied a goal, an amount to get through, and right now he was still exploring. One piece put into one machine produced one result, which got noted and thought about, before ultimately being tried in a different machine, while a combination of different parts were put into the first machine, and continuous notes were made, and new ideas were brainstormed, and sometimes whole minutes would go by before Tech's eyes felt so dry that he wondered if he'd even remembered to blink...

"Go the fuck to sleep, Tech!"

The exclamation startled him. In part because he'd been so enveloped in his own world he'd forgotten other people existed. But also in part because the one who'd yelled at him was the last he would've expected.

The flashlight from his goggles illuminated a very upset clone trooper in a hammock. Echo was looking over his shoulder at him, his murderous stare cutting through the space like a laser. Tech couldn't help but gulp at the sight.

"Uh, apologies, Echo," he said, suddenly self-conscious, and for good reason. He could feel the eyes of his other brothers trained on him from all directions now. "I... didn't mean to disturb you."

"Go. The fuck. To sleep," Echo repeated himself, his voice a little lower this time, but still full of punch.

Tech nodded. "I will, I just have to finish--"

"Tech..." Hunter's drawl came from the shadows.

Tech stood for a moment, looking between the dozens of projects he was still in the thick of, and back up at Echo who seemed ready to fight him if he dared tried to ignore his request.

Order. It was more of a order, Tech acknowledged. Accompanied by a warning from his Sergeant. He nodded again, this time more in acquiescence than before. He clicked the light off his goggles, plunging the room into true darkness for the first time all night. He gingerly set down some pliers he was holding and made a few clicks on his holopad to turn it off. Echo was still twisted around to face him, and he was sure the others were tracking his movements as best they could too. Though, Wrecker did end up letting out a snore while he picked his way through the piles of machines on the floor, so perhaps not everyone was watching him after all.

Tech shuffled back to his bunk and made a show of getting under the covers and settling in. He debated whether he should call out goodnight when he heard the shifting of the hammock and rustling of sheets from Hunter's side of the room. They were turning back in for the night. He was off the hook.

Tech still let a few minutes go by before he stuck his head under the covers and pulled out his backup datapad.

~ ~ ~

Everything Tag: @damerondala, @dangerousstrawberrypie, @fallingforthem, @harleyevanstan, @imabeautifulbutterfly, @justanothersadperson93, @misogirl828, @itsagrimm, @error6gendernotfound, @theroguesully, @clonesimp, @techie-bear

+Bad Batch Tag: @marvel-starwars-nerd, @pandora-the-halfling, @darkangel4121, @sobstea, @rintheemolion, @bowtiesandsandshoes, @dionysuskid21, @jesseeka, @hanbetired, @thatmultifandomdumbass, @sarahtanmarvel, @call-me-a-fool, @lackofhonor, @theclonesdeservebetter, @hannahhearttcw, @kaijusplotch, @salaminus, @arctrooper69, @katzs-current-obsession, @rebel-finn, @not-a-big-slay, @writing-positivelyexisting, @nekotaetae, @the-mom-friend-dot-com, @pickle-rick-y, @flowered-bicycles, @lucyysthings

(Join my tag list here)

[greatideas-badwriter]

Sacrificed To The Banished Prince Ch. 31

“I’m relieved she has an appetite this time,” Madara said once all three Uchiha men were sure Sakura was asleep. 

Sasuke studied his sleeping wife’s face, oblivious that they’d given up talking about the kidnapping. The subject had turned onto her. 

“The doctors…. Did they say whether or not she was assaulted?” 

The prince’s eyes darted up to his brother’s, narrowing, “She didn’t consent to being inspected, but denies it.” 

The king hissed in a quieter voice because he truly didn’t want her to overhear his next words, “She hid the truth last time. Can we trust she isn’t doing so again?” 

Both Uchiha brothers shot annoyed looks at him, the eldest speaking up first, “They are married now, Uncle. I’m sure you can recognize the difference in their relationship.” 

Sasuke’s gaze turned onto his wife again, mulling over Itachi’s words. ‘It really has changed since the wedding. I can’t possibly mask my feelings for her in front of others, whereas before it was relatively easy to remain stiff.’ 

His princess was stronger than anyone he’d ever known. She’d had a terrible upbringing and experienced horrifying traumas since meeting him, too. Not only did she survive being the prisoner of notoriously bloodthirsty mercenaries, but she informed him last night that she’d done so while pregnant. The prince was determined to spend the rest of his life thanking her for enduring such hardships. He didn’t want her to so much as pull a muscle or stub her toe for the remainder of her pregnancy. 

Madara and Itachi shared a look before lowering their voices further, the king speaking first, “There is something else we must tell you.” The prince turned his gaze back onto them, disliking the tension they suddenly exuded. “Remains were discovered not far from a hideout the knights discovered East of the kingdom.” 

Sasuke’s eyes danced between the two before locking firmly on Itachi, who nodded uneasily, “They belong to Hihara Haruno.” A strange mixture of relief and fury boiled the pit of his stomach. He was glad that monster had perished, but he was angry he wasn’t the one to deal the final blow. “That’s not all,” Itachi continued, his frown deepening, “His cause of death was strange. It’s evident magic was involved, but the user left no trace, so we have no way of identifying his murderer.” 

The prince wasn’t sure what to say. His teeth gritted as he once again looked at his wife. She seemed so peaceful compared to the wildfire blazing in his thoughts. ‘How will she react when she finds out?’ 

“I should inform you, certain laws bind even us, so I’ve sent word to the Haruno family to come claim the remains. They will arrive in two days,” Madara said. 

“We’ll leave the palace tomorrow, then.” Sasuke didn’t need to think about a response to that piece of information. He didn’t want that wicked family anywhere near his wife. Now was time for her to heal and know peace, not have old wounds reopened. 

Itachi asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay until Lady Sakura is able to walk? Moving her in that condition will cause her body distress.” 

Sasuke slid his hand out from between the woman in question’s, instead pulling the blanket up to her chin. 

He spoke, barely a mumble, “The positive memories she has of this castle are few. If it means she’ll be able to return to our home, I’m sure she’ll agree with my decision.” He watched the slow rise and fall of her breathing and added even more softly, “I will ask her when she wakes. If she wishes to stay, then we’ll stay.” 

Soon, the first prince and king left so he, too, could rest. He’d been injured, after all. Honestly, the wounds to his arm and hand didn’t offer much discomfort. The healing potion had done great work. The maids silently took the trays of food and drinks. Once he was completely alone with Sakura, he gently brushed her hair from her face. A small smirk tugged at his lips as he memorized the picture before him. 

‘She ate more than usual. It must be the baby.’ 

An unfamiliar warmth met his chest, something like pride. Sasuke had never imagined having children. He thought it wasn’t even an option. When he realized what Sakura was trying to communicate last night, though, unbelievable happiness flooded his entire being. Instantly, the few memories he had of his late parents came to mind. 

There were times his father would train him and Itachi with wooden swords. They’d be so exhausted by the end of the day that he’d have to carry them home, the older brother on his back and the younger in his arms. He remembered hearing him and his mother whispering amusedly when he’d arrive home with two dirty, sleeping boys. Though it seemed far-fetched, given Sasuke’s introverted personality, he wanted to be an amazing parent like his had been. 

‘Sakura will make a great mother,’ he mused. 

She had similar characteristics as his mother when he imagined it. She’d undoubtedly raise a child with gentle hands, encouraging them with her entire soul. It was likely she’d read them stories before bed and stay with them through the night when they were sick. 

Sighing, the man walked around the bed to slip under covers. Sakura stirred when he did, turning onto her back. He turned onto his side, hesitating momentarily before placing a hand on her stomach. It was impossible to tell she was with child at this point. She’d lost weight while they were apart, and they only spent one night together, so the date of conception was concrete. 

A realization suddenly came to Sasuke. The light-hearted content turned into stone-cold ice. His wide eyes lowered to the blanket covering where his hand rested. ‘....I wasn’t the only one. That was the night that The Curse….’ It wouldn’t matter, right? It was still his body, after all! …Still. His body became capable of inhuman things when the demon was in control, like crying tears, heightened senses, and incredible physical strength. Would his very DNA be affected by that? It’d be impossible to find that information in a book. The only person who might’ve known was Orochimaru, who died a decade ago. 

The prince shook his head, gently pulling Sakura closer and holding her tightly, ‘The child is mine. This is my wife, and it was my seed that took root.’ 

The morning of the next day, Sasuke explained the situation to his wife while they bathed, a few maids tending to them that he ignored and she attempted, and failed, to. “So, I leave the choice to you. Would you like to leave today for the Winterlands, or are you content to remain here until your body has healed?” 

A pretty blush colored her cheeks. It was charming how bashful she was about being tended to, especially now that she was an honest-to-God princess. Her voice had come back, though she kept it softer than usual to not harm it further, “I want to go home.” 

He’d figured correctly. 

“But-” 

Or so he thought. He was truly surprised to see her hesitation. 

She avoided meeting his gaze, “I know this isn’t the time, but do you know which members of my family are coming to collect the remains? My sister, Hana…. I haven’t seen or heard from her since becoming your fiance. She hasn’t responded to letters, either. I’m worried.” 

Ah. Sasuke had forgotten about the youngest Haruno sibling because he’d yet to even meet her. If he correctly recalls, Sakura was close with the mystery girl. ‘Yes. I remember her saying she used to read books to her little sister. It was the day we first met face to face.’

Sighing, he looked over his small wife’s appearance, an uneasy feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. ‘Is it wrong to want to lock her away so no one can hurt her again?’ 

Yes. It was wrong because it wasn’t what she wanted. Disregarding her desires would make him no better than those mercenaries that’d held her captive. So, he nodded defeatedly with a stern frown, “You mustn’t leave my side.” 

Sakura seemed mildly surprised that he agreed without argument. Then, she smiled bashfully, “I understand.” 

The duo spent most of the day humoring the doctors and palace staff who fretted over them on behalf of the king and first prince. After dinner, though, Sasuke had had enough. He was a man who valued privacy more than most. So, when the doctors bid the couple a good evening after one last vital check, the prince climbed out of bed, walked around it, and knelt beside his confused wife. 

“Sasuke? Is something wrong?” The princess sat up with a red face when he tugged the covers from her. 

Finding her behavior charming, Sasuke bit back a smirk. He cleared his throat before masterfully picking his wife up like the royalty she was, “I’d like to sleep in a room, in a real bed, where none can enter unannounced.” 

Sakura squeaked upon being lifted, naturally grasping a handful of his shirt. She hissed so as to not be overheard by anyone as Sasuke left the room and began carrying her upstairs toward the guest bedrooms, “S-Sasuke! What if someone notices we’re gone and thinks-” “Let them think what they want. We’re married,” the prince cut off his wife, surprised she’d bring up a sexual topic so casually. When no verbal response came, the man looked down to see his wife burying her face in his chest and actually chuckled at her. 

She groaned, evidently embarrassed, “I meant what if they think we’ve been kidnapped, not…that.” 

He waited until they were in a room to respond, and laid her down on the bed with amusement dripping into his tone, “That?” 

“Yes. You’re aware of what I speak,” Sakura averted her gaze and busied herself with pulling back the covers and climbing under them. 

Sasuke didn’t hold back his smirk this time. He shrugged his shirt off over his head and let it fall to the floor while walking across the room to switch the lights off. At the very last moment, he noticed his wife glance his way. It’d have been easy to allow lust to take over, but he didn’t. No, an adoring warmth to which he was becoming more and more accustomed met his chest. 

Sakura had a habit of cuddling up to him for warmth in the night, and he’d grown fond of it without outwardly letting that fact show. When he joined her under the covers, however, she remained laying on her back. While Sasuke had learned to read Sakura’s body language more easily in their time together, he couldn’t determine what was going through her head when he turned onto his side. He thought she might’ve been blushing because of his mild teasing, but she wasn’t. No, she looked almost melancholy. 

‘Have I frightened her by taking her to such an isolated room?’ 

Hesitantly, the prince asked, “Is something wrong?” 

Brilliant green eyes turned onto him before closing tightly. The woman was quiet for a pause before she groaned and shook her head, “I’m realizing how uneducated I still am after having spent so many hours in your library.” Sasuke still wasn’t sure what she meant, so he waited for her to elaborate. When she realized this, she admitted in a barely audible voice, “Is it harmful to the child if…that happens while I’m pregnant?” 

The Uchiha almost laughed. Almost. He tried his best to hold back his grin while shaking his head, gazing lovingly at his wife’s humiliated face, “Do you require my attention?” 

Sakura nodded, her blush brightening, “Do you think I’m well enough to-” Sasuke smoothly moved over her, sliding his body between her legs and cupping her cheek in his hand, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t exert yourself.” 

The look of astonishment and arousal on his shy wife’s face was encouraging as the prince kissed her. He moved the hand on her cheek down to leisurely unlace her gown. He meant those words, both in regards to her sexual urges and whatever else she’d ever need. Sasuke had found his person, and his person had endured so much for his sake. He fully intended to show his appreciation until the woman was able to understand his feelings.

[lestappenforever]

Something Unholy - Lestappen

I did promise to try and finish this ahead of the race tomorrow in another attempt to manifest a Lestappen podium by writing some PWP, as it seemed to work last time. So here's hoping it works this time, too!

Dedicated to my beautiful @killingevie, who was the literal mastermind behind this whole thing, and the anons and everyone who came into my ask box to share their thoughts and ideas with me over the last few days. 💕

Did I plan for it to end up being more than 10 000 words long? No. Did it happen anyway? Yes.

You can read the full fic here.

Enjoy a little snippet below.

---

It’s Lando — because of course it’s fucking Lando — who really takes it to the next level, when Charles chooses dare when Lando next asks. 

Max can tell it’s not going to be good before Lando even gets a word out, because there’s a look of utter mischief on the Brit’s face that has never brought anything good with it, ever. 

“Dare,” Lando echoes with a hum, rubbing at the non-existent beard on his chin as he mulls his possibilities over. “I dare you to give Max a lap dance.”

The room goes momentarily silent as people look between Max and Charles with wide eyes. Alex lets out a celebratory ‘whoop!’ while Carlos fucking claps next to Lando. Max narrows his eyes and glares at them both, before shifting his attention to Charles, half-expecting to see the Monégasque looking absolutely horrified, or already on his way to flee the room. 

But when Max looks at Charles, he sees the other man looking calm and relaxed, leaning back on the couch with his right ankle resting on his left knee, his right elbow resting on the back of the couch and his hand propping up his chin. With his left hand, Charles is balancing his bottle of beer on his left thigh and his attention is fixed on Lando. Then he meets Max’s gaze and raises an eyebrow in a silent question. Max blinks at him, but doesn’t speak or shake his head. Instead, he just tilts his head to one side and cocks an eyebrow right back. 

It’s a challenge. And Max knows that Charles would never back down from a challenge. Especially not a challenge from Max. 

“Fine,” the Monégasque says casually, as if Lando had just asked him to hand him a napkin or something equally mundane, finishing his beer and putting his empty bottle down on the table. Then, he gets to his feet and gestures for Max to do the same.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Battle Of The Knights Alt Ending 4: There Are No Winners

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: eh no one's vibing here lol

Genre: this one is angst

Summary: "So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.

What happens when the relationships you've built with Marc and his two alters are turned on their heads by a proposition that is anything but simple? How can they expect you to risk blowing up the carefully crafted dynamic you've worked so hard to create? And why do you agree to such an insane suggestion?

***

There is no good choice. You've been thinking it over and over every day now and you can't see any decision going well. You can't possibly be expected to pick a favorite. That's what this is basically, picking a favorite person. At least that's what it feels like and you do not want to do that. How could you? No, there were too many unpredictable factors to try and choose one.

Hey guys, I made a choice. We should meet up when you all have a chance.

Their response comes quicker than you were expecting. Barely a few minutes pass before your phone dings with a message.

Sure, why don't we grab lunch tomorrow? We can go to our usual spot. -Marc

Good. Somewhere neutral. It'll make things easier. At least a little bit.

Works for me. Is 2 okay for time?

That's usually what time you guys would grab lunch there on the days you go so you can't imagine it'd be a problem but between the three of them- scheduling can be madness.

Two is perfect. See you then. -Marc

Great.

The next day you have to actively stop yourself from leaving extremely early to meet them. You're so anxious to get through this conversation that you were ready way before you needed to be and that left you with nothing to do but mull over how much you're dreading it until it's a reasonable time to leave. When you get to the cafe you're meeting at, they're already sitting at a table. You walk over and when they spot you they stand.

"Y/n, you made it." It's Marc that greets you with a smile and you hug him as you reply.

"Yeah! Hey, good to see you." You say taking a seat in the chair he wasn't in before you entered.

"Well duh we're like this." Marc crosses two fingers to indicate your closeness and you chuckle.

"Yeah, I guess we are pretty close." You hum.

"I went ahead and ordered for us since we got here early, courtesy of Steven, they should be calling it out soon so I wanna wait that way we're not like interrupted." Marc tells you.

"Oh yeah no problem we can wait. Thanks for ordering." You smile although you literally do not have the appetite for this lunch despite it being one of your favorites. It only takes a minute or two for them to call Marc's name and he jogs up to the counter to retrieve your meals and bring them back.

"And the food has arrived." He announces as he sets down your bag in front of you and sits down again.

"Indeed it has." You smile popping open the bag to pick at your fries. You don't want to open the sandwich you always get just yet because if this conversation goes as horribly as you're worried it will you'll want to be able to grab your lunch and leave.

"Alright, decision day, right?" Marc prompts as he pulls out his food and starts unwrapping things.

"Right." You nod.

"You know I have to admit I didn't think you'd really use the whole three weeks when you said it at the end of our date." Marc says before taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Yeah, well- you guys gave me a lot to think about. I had to make sure I made the right decision. But I'm sure the waiting was killer. Especially with how y'all can be." You muse.

"How we can be?! Rude!" He protests.

"Maybe but it's not incorrect." You shrug.

"I resent that." His eyes narrow at you.

"Oh I'm sure you do." You scoff. Marc chuckles and you allow his laughter to die down while you settle your nerves before speaking again. "I love you guys, you know that, right?"

"Of course. And we love you." Marc says without missing a beat.

"Then... I hope you'll understand when I say I won't- pick one of you." You say shakily. Marc freezes in the middle of putting down his sandwich at your words.

"What?"

"I had- a lot of fun with you, each of you, but I can't date any of you. I love you, really but this just- we work well as we are and I don't want to change that." You say. There's a long pause where Marc is frowning at- nothing in particular, he's not looking at you and after over a minute passes you stand up, assuming he needs space to process things.

"If you weren't going to choose to be with one of us why go through the trouble of doing any of this?" It's Jake's voice that stops you from standing all the way.

"What?"

"If you weren't going to choose any of us what was the point of doing all of this at all?"

"It's what you asked me to do. I did exactly what you asked. Go on a date with each of you and make a decision after that. You don't like my decision and I can understand that. You don't have to like it but it's my choice and you will respect it, Jake. I expect at least that much from you."

"So all of this was just to appease us- because we asked?" Jake looks at you, practically glares at you.

"Of course it was. Look I had a lot of fun with you all really I did- but you all are a unit that I have no desire to split up in any way and you all plus me work really well- the way we are now. I don't want to mess that up either. I like the way things are." You say meeting his stare head on. As worried as you were about all of this you refuse to let Jake intimidate you.

"It sounds like you're scared. We put ourselves out there to you and you can't be bothered to risk doing the same?!"

"It's not about that Jake. I care about all of you and I have no interest in seeing things shift. If- this decision is what destroys our friendship if you- can't speak to me anymore because I refuse to choose between you, I can live with it. I'd rather lose all of you at once now than lose you one at a time." You say calmly.

"Why is that the only outcome you see?"

"I've spent the past 3 weeks going over every possible way this ends- there are too many not good possibilities. I don't like the odds. I understand that you're upset and I will give you space to deal with that." You shake your head.

"And what if we don't want to see you again?" Jake asks harshly. You don't allow that flash of hurt you feel to simmer as you answer him.

"I will respect that choice." You say, slowly, because as much as you try to mask it the idea does hurt you to think about.

"Y/n- wait. Jake- he's upset, we all are- but he doesn't mean that. We'd never-"

"Don't speak in absolutes. And don't speak for him. He might not get over this and he doesn't have to. It's okay if he- never wants to talk to me again." You cut off Steven's frantic attempts at defusing the situation.

"He'll come around. You know he will- he's never been able to stay mad at you." Steven says.

"This is different Steven. I think he feels particularly betrayed. He doesn't- feelings aren't something he allows himself and the one time he did- it backfired. The door is always open for him but- he may not want to speak to me again and that's okay too, but I'll always be around if he does."

"Y/n-"

"I- I should go but I'll see you around. I love you by the way. All of you. I'm sorry things didn't go the way you hoped." You say grabbing your lunch and darting out of the place before Steven can try more placating. This played out about as well as you expected but you feel you made the best choice for you and that's all that should matter. Right?

***

Taglist: @queerponcho @avengersinitiative2012 @stressed-cherry

[colderdrafts]

15: New Plan

The Great Assembly, gender neutral reader x monster (male naga). Sfw. Previous Next

You type in the number and dial.

It's stupid. It's so stupid you're doing this but you can't think of what else to do. It's the middle of the night, your heart is racing and you swore you saw an all too familiar long-limbed silhouette moving through the streets outside. It's been months, you KNOW it's nothing.

But your trembling body doesn't.

"..Bwu-huh?" comes Irwin's voice through the phone, groggy with sleep.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry to wake you, just-"

"Hold on. Are you alright?" he asks, immediately perking up and on high alert. You hear the sound of fabric rustling through the phone, presumably as he sits up.

"Yes - no," you sigh through your nose, trying to calm your breathing. "I know it's dumb but-"

"It's not dumb, buddy," Irwin says gently. "Nightmares again? Wanna tell me about it? Should I come get you?"

There he goes again, a never-ending foundation of support and patience. Unfortunately, he's very good at it.

That's why you called him, after all.

"No," you mutter, taking a deep breath. "No, it's alright. Could you just.. talk for a bit?"

"My specialty," he announces with flair, attempting to lighten the mood. "You got it."

Irwin spends the next few minutes going over his day, including a nice conversation with his father, delicious tuna sandwiches and a very cute dog he got to pet. It's so terribly mundane to just have him gently chatting that it soothes any worry you had.

How could you be in trouble when everything is, at this point, so very perfectly normal?

You can feel your heart settling a little and your breathing evening out bit by bit as you listen to his tale.

"- and that's why I'm not allowed inside the company kitchen," Irwin finishes with a snort. He pauses. "Are you okay?"

"Better now. Thanks," you sigh, glancing out your window at the emptiness of the city streets at night. Nothing is there, and nothing had been there. "It's just my paranoia acting up again, nothing's happening, don't worry. I don't even know why I called you. I'm sorry."

"Hey it's chill. I'm glad you did! If I can't bore you to sleep with my amazingly interesting every-day bull, how else are you gonna have energy to finish my excel sheet for me tomorrow?" he chuckles.

You scoff in feign indignation. "I have never agreed to such a thing."

"Not yet you haven't! Pinky promise, it's a fun one this time. Lots of numbers and unsorted names on lists and stuff. Right up your alley."

"I can't believe you're using my late night paranoia as an excuse to get out of work," you laugh.

"Hey, if I can distract your brain with my terrible coworker manners I might as well. It's working, isn't it?"

Damn him, it is. "Thank you Irwin."

"Anytime!"

It's a rough night where sleep comes and goes, and you keep hearing the bone chilling cheeriness of Mira's voice on repeat in your mind. The new feeling of responsibility for this situation cast upon you has not done well to soothe any agitated strains coursing through your body.

You hear Elise get up around 7am and start mulling about downstairs. You're not getting any sleep anyway, so you decide to join her in the kitchen.

"You look like someone smashed you with a hammer," she comments as a greeting when you poke your head through the doorway to see what she's doing.

She's downed a flowery apron, rolled up her sleeves and her tough hair pulled back in a ponytail. The kitchen counter is covered in baking ingredients and flour. Looks like she's preparing some batter.

"Good morning to you too," you grumble at her, entering the room fully. "Smells good in here."

She smiles and you hear her sniff the air briefly. "Well it did. Mr. Grumpy kept you up last night?"

You groan in exasperation. "It's that bad? I just gave him a hug!"

"Then you've done him a solid," Elise chuckles, and returns her attention to the batter in front of her.

You settle against the kitchen counter. "Did you sleep alright?"

Elise nods. "Like a brick. Been a while since I've had time to just unwind for a bit like this. It's nice," she looks at you. "Well. Horrible circumstances saying that I can, but. You know what I mean."

"Yeah. I guess with everything going on work isn't really a top priority anymore. I don't dislike my job, but now I feel sorta bad for wishing for some excitement."

"Well, careful what you wish for as fae say."

You look around the kitchen and take in the rustic charm. Something as simple as watching Elise preparing a batter - for bread, seems like - it's a nice break from the horrors that'd plagued you all night to be a part of something so ordinary.

"I wouldn't have taken you for the type to be into baking," you note, watching her expertly fold the dough.

"Gotta put these guns to use somehow," Elise flexes her impressively muscular right arm momentarily and grins. "Ya’know, since I'm currently not wrangling shady folks intruding on company property and all. Wanna join? I still need to roll them out."

You roll up your sleeves. "So you have a brother who likes to sleep on concrete?" you ask to fill the silence as you get to work.

"Yep. When he's not crashing here, he works in ocean research-mumbo-jumbo so he's out sailing a lot,” she replies. “He's a smart lad, always chatting my ear off about the newest deep-sea discovery. I don't get half of it, but he seems happy."

"Sounds like an interesting job," you nod. You glance at her. "There's something else, actually."

"Hmm?"

"I uh, I heard you talking the other night. You really don't have to feel guilty, you know?"

She pauses, not looking at you. Seems she’s not too keen on turning the conversation in this direction, but she responds regardless. "Heard that, huh? Look, I know. It's just - I grew fond of the little rascal pretty quick, and he was with me when he got snatched. It's hard not to is all."

You focus on rolling out a bun. "I get it. Just - I thought you should know."

She nods.

"And another thing - Thanks for letting me stay here. Or well, both of us stay here. You didn't have to do that."

"'Course, can't have anything happening to the other hum that barreled into my life," she snickers, gently bumping your shoulder. "'sides, I kind of see myself as a nanny of sorts. Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you and Amren.”

"Nanny?” you chuckle. “We’re all adults here, is that really necessary?"

Elise dumps a bun on the counter with a dull splat, and flicks some flour at your face playfully. "Gotta make sure you don't do anything brash, and that the grumpy idiot doesn't destroy whatever little connection you two have when trying to stop you."

You wipe the flour of your face. "Connection? What do you mean?"

"Look. That useless slab of rocks is never going to tell you this himself, so I will," she says. "He obviously cares about you. I've known that stubborn snake for years and trust me. He does not go out of his way, ever. But he does for you. So whatever the hell you did to him, keep doing it,” she grins. “If anything, as a favor to me. Unfortunately I care about that dumbass, and you bet your lil' hum behind I'm going to make that your problem."

Your problem? Is it one?

You don’t exactly know what you've 'done' to said dumbass, it certainly didn't seem like much has changed in his point of view, other than an odd need to keep an eye on you and his awkward attempts at being supportive. Perhaps those small gestures means more than you think. Elise has known Amren longer than you have, so supposedly you’ll have to take her word for it.

“I don’t really know what to say to that,” you admit.

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to say anything. Just keep on truckin’ and you’ll be fine.”

A little later the buns have been set to prove, and you've settled at the kitchen table, chatting back and forth. Elise is very easy to talk to, her rough-and-gruff perspective on things makes you laugh more than once.

She shares some stories of her and her brother's upbringing in the city, and how their parents used to take them sailing. She asks you gently on how you’re doing with all of this, and you try your best to share a little of your troubles and the gnawing worry in your heart.

You reassure her though that staying here has been good for you so far.

"I don't know what I would've done sitting alone in my apartment. I think paranoia would get the best of me,” you finish.

"That's pretty reasonable all things considered. Don't worry, it gets lonely here too when my brother's away. I'm happy to have company,” she smiles. Then she frowns. “Even if it means dealing with you."

Her sudden shift in tone makes you look up in confusion but Elise is looking behind you. You turn and watch Amren slithering into the kitchen, looking as happy as a rotten prune.

"Still not a morning person, huh?" you comment.

"Morning sunshine~" Elise sings.

Amren grumbles something under his breath and goes to set a kettle on. "Tiny decided to pick up a call from a certain coyote last night," he says to Elise. "After spending an hour trying to break into Irwin's phone. Keeping me up."

"Snitch," you scold him.

He flicks his tongue at you.

Elise turns to you, clacking her tusks and instantly on guard, as you knew she would be. "You talked to her?!"

You explain briefly the interaction you had, to which she listens intently.

"What did Irwin say?" she asks when you’re done.

Amren hands both of you a warm mug of coffee and settles next to you.

"I have no idea," you mutter, defeated, and pause to take a sip. "Something about me 'starting the company'? Why on Earth 2.0 would he-"

"At," Amren adds, interrupting you. "Starting at the company."

Realization hits you and you spot the same look in Amren's eyes.

"Tiny, when was your starting date at the company?" he asks.

"I don't - sometime March? I guess?"

"Hold on," Amren hands you his mug and leaves your side to deftly slither up the stairs, leaving you and Elise hanging in the kitchen. Moments later he returns with his laptop, sets it on the table and turns it on.

You watch him fiddle with it in silence, eyes scanning the page with brows furrowed in concentration.

"March 3rd," he announces, looking up at you. "You started working there a March 3rd."

You pick up Irwin's phone and type in the date.

It unlocks.

"He set the code for the day I - oh," you feel a sting in the corner of your eyes.

That must be one of the sweetest things Irwin’s ever done, and probably why he'd been adamant about you not knowing about it, unless his life literally depended on it. And he managed to pass it on to you without raising suspicion. That clever little trickster.

"He's very fond of you, isn't he?" Amren mutters, closing his laptop.

"Seems so," you laugh sadly. "And, thank you. How did you even -?"

"Security detail. Contains logs on all employees," he replies. "Part of the job is keeping tabs on everyone."

"Creepy.." Elise notes from the kitchen counter with a sly grin.

"You've got them too!" Amren hisses defensively.

"I don't use them!"

"You should!"

You tune out their bickering on correct methods of security-performance and focus on the now unlocked phone. You haven’t actually planned for what to do once you got in. Now that it’s happened, you find yourself at an impasse.

Is snooping allowed at this point? It feels so invasive. Irwin is notoriously online, his phone basically contains his entire personality. What if you find something private he doesn't want you to see?

And what exactly do you hope to gain from looking? As far as you know, Irwin was as random a target as you. Why should his phone hold any answers to why he was taken?

And more importantly, why should it hold answers of where he was taken to?

But if Mira deliberately dropped it for you to find, and that odd phone call.. the uncanny feeling you got that you had to keep it – Irwin’s subtle clue so you could unlock it - it's just tugging at your mind. It might be a false sense of hope, but you firmly hold on to it. These things can't be coincidental. There must be something.

Irwin will forgive you for this transgression, surely.

You runs your eyes over the screen.

He has a bunch of social media apps, a few cutesy phone games and a messaging app full of unread messages. He also has a dating app installed, with an equal amount of unread messages. Browsing through the missed calls, you see a lot from you, obviously, but also from his father, some people whose names you recognize as his other friends, and a person named Marcus. The most recent however are four missed calls and one accepted from an unknown caller, which you assume must all be from Mira.

"Anything of interest?" Elise asks, efficiently halting her argument with Amren.

"A bunch of missed calls from me, his dad, Mira and a Marcus. I don't know of any Marcus in Irwin's life. And then a whole heap of unread texts."

Amren leans over you shoulder to take a look at the phone. "Are there any texts from this Marcus? Maybe they can give us a clue," he suggests.

You scroll through the messaging app, and, sure enough, there are a couple of texts from him.

It's a back and forth on meeting times, and not much else. The last message from Irwin was just before the conference, informing Marcus Irwin will be gone for the conference from that day on, and Marcus replying with a thumbs up. The latest message from Marcus was from yesterday.

"You're back, right? When are you available?"

"This doesn't help us much.." Amren muses. "What are they meeting about?"

"I have a guess," Elise shrugs nonchalantly. "They're probably just hooking up."

You and Amren simultaneously look up to give her a weird look, which she waves off.

"Oh come on, no conversation points, no relationship development whatsoever, and we've all seen first hand that our hum friend cannot hold an inkling of alcohol to save his life, most likely not drugs either? What else would it be?"

What else indeed. It wouldn't be unheard off that Irwin would be blowing off some steam in his spare time and not tell you about it - it is, frankly, absolutely none of your business. Amren would be proud of you for thinking so.

"Well, that's his business. I don't really want to pry more if that's the case," you say, and consider for a moment. "But what if that's not the case? If there's any chance this Marcus fellow might know something, wouldn't it be better to cover all bases to figure this out? I mean, Irwin wouldn't shout his code at me if he didn't want me to find something here. And I don't really see anything else sticking out."

Amren hums in consideration. "While I'm hesitant to head into uncharted territory, that might actually be true," he says. "And he clearly isn't aware Irwin is missing. This might be an opportunity to get some answers."

You mull it over. "Let's say I meet with him. What do I even say? Hello, I'm the coworker of that guy you're frequently.. seeing?"

Elise snorts. "Good ice breaker! But maybe follow it up with a very good reason for why you're the one there instead of Irwin."

"They're not meeting with him alone," Amren comments firmly.

"'Course not, you big grump. We'll be waiting close by."

You look at both of them. "Thank you. Really, we didn't even know each other barely two weeks ago."

"And now we do. Get over it," Elise ruffles your hair.

You sit and discuss a plan for how to approach Marcus, and you do your best impersonation of Irwin when you write a reply to meet up this evening. Marcus replies with a thumbs up.

[yuriko-mukami]

Epilogue

I waved my hand when Maria and Laito-kun headed out. Yuuto was still helping Nalia to put on her shoes but soon, both of them straightened up.

"It was so nice that you could come by!" I beamed. "See you later again~"

"You should come to the shrine on New Year's Day." Yuuto smiled and patted Ruki's shoulder before ruffling my hair once again. "You know, traditions."

"We'll be there." Ruki nodded, holding me close. "Isn't that so, my angel?"

"Yes! Yes, of course. Maybe we can help you with cooking since it will be a busy day in the shrine."

Nalia nodded. "That would be nice." The Kitsune woman looked exhausted when she massaged the small of her back. "I haven't been able to do much recently."

"Then I will make the dinner, Yuriko and you will simply relax, and Yuuto will do his work in the shrine." Ruki simply decided that without asking anyone's opinion. I wanted to poke him between his ribs, but before I could do that, Yuuto grinned.

"Sounds like a plan. Gotta love that. Thanks, Ruki." He wrapped Nalia in a warm coat. "Time to go, Sleepin' Beauty. You look like you're gonna nod off right here and now. See you, Ruki, Sis." And with that, the couple walked out too.

I stretched my arms and peeked at Ruki. "Umh... should we join others in the living room."

"No, we should not." Ruki's answer caught me by surprise.

"No?"

"First, Kou said he bought Vampire Juice for everyone." I could practically smell Ruki's distaste in the air. "And secondly, I wish to have my wife all for myself after she has been socializing with everyone else for the whole evening."

"Well... your wife isn't against that at all..." I ran my fingers on his chest, following the buttons of his blue dress shirt.

Ruki snatched my hand and pulled me tightly against him. A strong arm enveloped my waist. "Close your eyes."

I did as told and felt how air swooshed around us. My skin tingled and my stomach turned slightly but I held to Ruki.

"You can open them now."

Slowly, I pushed my body into a straighter position and fluttered my eyelids up. "Oh my gosh! Where are we?"

"While you were busy running around the manor, I took the liberty to ensure no one would bother us for the rest of the night. I can see that the familiars finished the decorations as I told them." Ruki gazed around a smug smile on his face. "I hope you like the cabin, my angel. It's a few kilometers to the north of the Polar Circle in the middle of the forest. Perhaps we'll even see reindeer tomorrow. "

"Oh, Ruki! I love it!" I jumped a little up and down, enjoying the cozy view and aroma of mulled wine and hot cocoa that wafted in the air.

"Is that so~?" Ruki chuckled, brushing my cheek.

"Totally!" Wrapping my arms around his neck, I rose on my toes and captured Ruki's lips with mine. "Thank you so much!"

"Mhh~ Bold..." The word was a mere mumble against my mouth as he pulled me even closer. His hand slid along my back, reaching under my bottom. He lifted me, and I instantly embraced his waist with my legs.

Smooching me again, Ruki carried me on the leather couch right next to the colorful tree. "I love you, my angel. From the bottom of my heart." He put me lying on the couch, inching closer.

"And I love you, Ruki. You're the love of my life."

Ruki laced his fingers with my hair, leaning even closer until our faces almost touched. "Prepare yourself, Yuriko. It's the longest night of the year, and your master will spoil you as long as it lasts." The tip of Ruki's nose rubbed against mine. "But tell me if you are feeling tired. You should be sleeping enough. Do you understand?"

"I... I... I do. But, Ruki, I can stay up for one night with you. I have plenty of time to snooze tomorrow~" Lifting my head slightly, I pressed my lips on Ruki's.

___

Maria belongs to @mermaid--bride

Nalia belongs to @nalia-tsukino

Yuriko and Yuuto belong to @yuriko-mukami & @yuuto-tsukino (me)

[braemjeorn]

CHAPTER XV [masterlist]

pairing: bang chan x ofc

genre/notes: general audience; angst; regency period drama; family fluff; domesticity; ocassional angst; slowburn; governess!oc; nobility!BC; age differences; age changes

wordcount: 3.1k

summary: solem mullings in between old company

also available in ao3, if you prefer that format

© Do not repost, copy, or republish into another site or under another name.

⚠️ All characters that shares the name of real life person in this story are represented in a fictional manner for entertainment purpose, and not to be alluded with real life.

TAGLIST: @spookykryptoniteperson @nixtape-foryou @do-you-know-what-else-is-big

“Are you well, Miss Son?”

Mari turned, finding one of the boys trailing behind her at the terrace’s stairs. “Yes, Jisung?”

“You look awful grey these two days. You don’t play with us as much,” the boy said. The declaration rather perplexed her, but then the sheepish guilt rose at the truth of it. 

It was only time before one of the boys took notice. It happened to be observant, little Jisung—but then his brothers were distracted with the newly installed sundial down in the garden. Mari had often relented the boys to the cares of their uncle or their father recently, stepping back from their plays and walks to the terrace, or a bench. The detachment from their party was intentional, that they might adjust to her shirking presence in exchange for Lady Jang’s. Yet as she spent the hours quietly beside the boy’s loud excitement and the sunny day,  her thrumming mind and yearning heart began to wonder if it was the right course after all.

“My thoughts are like tangled yarns, like that day you came to me to the drawing room,” Mari confessed to the lad, keeping it as simple as she could. “And it makes me a dreary being—I fear making a miserable company between your games.”

Jisung frowned, head tilting as he contemplated. “I thought they would not be so burdensome when you’re older.”

Mari smiled. “Truthfully, perhaps you’d encounter them much more frequently as an adult; and however much you've encountered it, there are times when they will make you feel helpless.”

Jisung hummed. He climbed up the stairs to settle himself to sit beside her. “It looks like a burden,” he mused.

“At times you feel very grey, yes.”

“Can I do anything to help? Well, I might ask the others for help too…”

There was much comfort she had from his words, and Mari grasped his shoulder warmly.

“You are very kind already in coming to ask me about my state. Although—” Mari hesitates, but continues with the plans she had been arranging. “It is not for help, but… I would like to ask some permission from you and your brothers?”

There was an excited cry from the group beyond them. Jisung nodded, his attention settled upon her. 

“If I return to the old school—for a few days only, perhaps until Monday—will you let me? And put my mind at ease by being good with your father?”

Jisung frowned, gaze lowered to their shoes in thought. Then he spoke again with a tint of whine, “But why are you going?” 

“Well—it might clear my mind, and ease my burdens. That I might teach you better on Monday.”

“And you have to go to do that? A walk won’t do?” Jisung looked up. 

“I’m afraid so.”

“But you’ll be back?”

“How can I not?” Mari smiled. “I have to read what poem you’ll write tomorrow.”

Jisung nodded, “All right. I say you may go.” 

He grinned and Mari .annot help but kiss his brows in gratitude.

“Shall I tell my brothers as well?”

“Not now,” Mari said. “I’ll tell them myself, the same way I ask you.”

His brothers were more reluctant to let her go, even with her reasons and assurances. Jisung was quiet next to Yongbok, both watching as the others hovered about Mari while she packed her things.

Jisung nodded, then settled closer to her, resting his head upon her shoulder. She couldn’t help but think of the same way he attaches himself to his father in the evenings as they listen to stories.

“Did we upset you?” the oldest cried.

“Not in the least, Minho. No.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Jeongin pried next.

“Nothing. It is not because of any of you, Jeongin—that I swear. It is my mind, it is rather… wearied.” Seven pairs of eyes fixed on her, wide or frowning in concern. Mari strained a smile through her face, “But I assure you, I will find some relief in my old company, and thus I will be able to return with clearer sight and lighter burden. I promise.”

Mari felt guilty giving this news abruptly, tinting the boys with great worry and confusion. But it would only be for a few days, so fast that they wouldn’t even feel it.

“You’ve promised then,” Jeongin settled, even if a little sullenly.

“That I have,” Mari decided. “Won’t you boys like a little holiday?”

“I suppose,” Hyunjin hummed. 

Minho was still perturbed—far more than he had been, for his hand dragged over his mussed hair and his scrunched eyes. Changbin’s stare delivered that he thought the eldest was mad.

“But what will become of us without you!?” Minho bemoaned.

“Minho, it is not the end of the world,” Mari reasoned gently, prying his hands away from his face. “You’ve managed quite well without me before, and even longer before that.”

She supposed that only his recollection of his being the eldest—and the necessity to keep his composure and senses—stopped him from bemoaning even further of his worries. At that moment, a new figure approached–all fine and flowy blue silk gown, defined curls, and a basket in hand. The boys fell into a hush, and Lady Jang asked them to excuse her with Miss Son for a moment. The boys exited the room, the elders taking the younger ones’ hands. Mari turned to her clothes, and as the hum of the boys’ footsteps receded away, the rustle of Baroness Jang’s skirt was stark in the room’s silence.

“Miss Son, you’ve left your sewing basket on the terrace. Quite the precarious place.”

“Oh,” Mari turned, now recognizing the basket gently settled over her covers. The boys had been quite rushed inside for lunch, she had forgotten. She peered inside, gently touching the scissors and embroidered fabric. “I thank you, Lady Jang.”

The lady gave a dismissive hum and moved to a more open part of her room near the desk.

“Miss Son—”

“Lady Jang, I think I have the answer already,” Mari cut. She felt awkward in abruptly speaking over the baroness but pursued on with the questioning look the lady gave her. “Forgive me for making you wait for so long only for me to say that I cannot accept your proposal.”

“Oh. I see,” Lady Jang hummed, then her frown turned troubled, “How unfortunate.” She slowly walked towards the window, deep in her thoughts.

“I cannot stay longer than my predetermined time,” Mari said, if only to fill the lengthy silence.

“Yes,” Lady Jang said absently. “It will be difficult, for the children are quite fond of you—it will be very hard for them to be parted from you, and for yourself as well I imagine.”

“I have my commitments…”

“And the Commodore too.” Lady Jang’s musing eyes turned to Mari’s sharply. The poor governess - harried as she was in the moment - could not make out the meaning in those glinting gazes and easy mouth. 

“He regards you highly, with a great deal of respect I could never imagine bestowed for a governess.” Lady Jang moved to the side of the window, which let light illuminate the side of her face. Her gaze considered Mari and then came a little amused quirk of her lips.

“He is fond of you. That is all I could imagine with the way he speaks of you.”

A lump bloomed in Mari’s throat, spreading to fill her chest. Mari sighed to relieve the tears she would not let the baroness see on her face. She hated it, that she might be seen in a vulnerable state, and be triumphed over. Lady Jang stood tall, elegant and poised as ever. The perfect consort to a seafaring man—the victor. Mari’s hands clenched up into a fist, and she took a deep breath.

“I am only a governess,” she said. “There will be others better and worse than me. I only hope that the boys may have one that is capable of bringing lessons and strength for them to grow in.”

The boys understood that they could not wheedle out more reasoning from her nor change her mind, and let her have her way while holding the promise firmly as if against her. The Commodore eased her away from their pestering—aware of her departure before they did, and again asked Minatozaki-san to supply her with goods from the pantry or the dairy, and called for his carriage for her use. Mari bade her goodbyes to the guests and held the boys’ hands as they waited on the stairs. They slipped lavenders and daffodils in her hands this time. Commodore Bang stood before the carriage, waiting while she talked to Seungmin. Then Mari turned, waving her hands and slowly descending the stairs. She looked up, finding her employer waiting for her with a small smile. His garbs were dark for the day, but his presence was as comforting as ever. Mari felt pleasure when his hand took her gloved one, guiding her inside the carriage. The door was shut, but he stayed near, hands upon the open window. 

She would not stay under the woman’s household and bear her scrutiny. Even if it meant relinquishing any contact with her boys.

“If you do not wish to return, you only need to say it,” he said. He had leant close to her, and his words were quiet, only for their own company. “I shall dissolve your obligations here, and arrange for your things to be sent your way.”

“You offend me, Commodore,” Mari replied, surprised at her revived boldness in teasing him. “I have more respect for my commitment than you assumed. Nor could I hurt the boys any more than I have.”

“You, hurting the boys?”

Mari turned towards his broods, waiting upon the stairs. The day was not so bright, and a gloom settled over the house’s red shade. But she gave them one last smile and raised her hand in a wave.

“They shall have to be used on not having my company. I shall be gone forever one day,” Mari hummed. “But that doesn't mean I shall not cherish them during the few days I have.”

The Commodore made no reply, gazing morosely at her. He rather looked like Minho that way, and Mari’s heart thumped with a pang. Her hand neared his, and before she was conscious of any better–as if they moved together—their hands melded again in a warm grasp. A sharp current ran through her skin—but Mari felt relief too, to be in his genial acknowledgement again, his good, steady presence.

“On Monday, then, Commodore,” Mari whispered. 

Commodore Bang smiled, as if he found the stability as well. The sombreness in his eyes reflected those of his children, but his smile was like a glow of sun on that grey day. There was a little crack in her heart at the sight, spilling a wonder if she might like to see his face every day forever.

Mrs Ahn received her with some surprise; her eyes doubtful at Mari’s reasoning—that she had returned to hear Mr Park’s sermons, and the Bangs had been so kind as to give her leave. That gaze did not diminish. Her daughter noticed too, yet took matters in an entirely different direction. She clasped Mari warmly while telling her how pleasant a surprise it was. In such a manner—although Mari caught the doubt in her eyes as well—the welcome was warm, and questions were set aside. In return, Mari listened to all the news Inha wished to tell and was comforted in how easily they settled back into old habits of lazing around each other’s bed and conversing. 

“Take care, Miss Son,” he said softly. Commodore released her hand and called for the carriage to drive on. Mari jerked at the movement, looked back, and saw that he stood where he was, watching on, until the carriage turned away from the front park and the house disappeared out of sight. 

Inha had frequented the town, for the company of Mr Noh—a tradesman, a nephew of some sort to one of their gentry neighbour. Curious of the man whom Inha had so well favoured, she was satisfied in his presence for dinner that Saturday evening, making a pleasant table of six. His black hair was full and his brown eyes warm and kind; generous and affable to all at the table, with a steady maturity that tempered Inha’s excitement, but a softness which pleased her attention. Mr Goo was his uncle, a landlord of the same parish. Mari shared some amusement with Junhee that the old gentleman had found great pleasure to be in the company of Mrs Ahn. Not that they would disclose it to the other two ladies.

It was how Mari passed Saturday and Sunday, playing chaperone to the new lovers at home. They would talk over one another while she sewed, only speaking when she liked or more often when persuaded to. The evenings were quieter, and at the same time increased her melancholy. By then, Mari had lacked the desire to pursue her embroidery, and her gaze would trail away upon the moonlit garden. The whirls of her worries occupied her, that she had not heard when Junhe and Inha agreed to retire and now she found Mrs Ahn settling down beside her.

“I cannot help but think, my child, how little spirit you seem to have,” the old matron said, startling Mari, even in the gentle way she settled into the chair beside her. “Much as I am glad to find you here.”

Mari was in proper, good humour, with gentle smiles towards the company around her. But Mrs Ahn's familiar eyes noticed, how there was little light in her pleasantries, and how when she thought nobody else was watching her gaze trailed out the window to the garden, lost in her mind while fixated on the lush green fields or the simple—almost miserable—hydrangeas; and her hands, idle over the embroidery hoop, clasped and unclasped, or a finger traced over one palm absently, as if in a search. She didn’t even seem to hunger for walks in the afternoon the way she would.

It was so she had found the young governess that evening, who abruptly realised that she had set herself in a situation she could not remove herself from, contemplating far too long after Inha and Junhee bid themselves away to retire. Now Mari would have to answer her—but what came out of her surprised Mrs Ahn considerably.

“I should never be a governess again,” she started quietly. 

“Whyever so?”

“I do not think my heart’s inclination to attachment would be pleased to suffer another separation.”

Mari, who had been so eager to venture out into the governess’ shoes. Out of all the obstacles she had expected would hinder the girl from trying again, this was the least of her imagination. But she chose not to point it out and asked about another subject. “But isn’t separation a common part of life?”

Mari fell silent. She would like to answer, but at the moment only a weak agreement seemed possible for her to say, so she refrained from it thoroughly.

“Attachments need not be severed by distance,” Mrs Ahn said at length. “I kept correspondence with a few of my previous pupils, even until now.”

“I’m not sure if I will have that privilege.”

“You were not unhappy in the house?”

“No,” Mari exclaimed, starting herself to sit straighter. “Not at all. I found no other place where I was so alive and content that I laughed so often and freely—gaily, in earnest happiness. 

“But then perhaps it is the feeling of purpose, of being needed, important to the boys which had taken to coddle me. I never had any more than three hours of rest in my waking hours before one of them would look for my attention, and after him came another or two… My desire for fulfilment was thoroughly satisfied.” A small smile crept on her face. “But I cannot linger, they will have to do without me and adjust to another presence. Cruel as that may be. As for myself, I had seen so little of the world; in comparison to the Commodore, who’s travelled seas and lands beyond. He would have been able to decide easily where he would let his heart find his final anchor. Unlike me, who might need to discover other opportunities for my skills.”

“I suppose it is so,” Mrs Ahn hummed. “By being a governess, you have tried the extent of your contentment.”

“As such I am resolved. My wish is to work here with you, in O—.”

“You are resolved?” Mrs Ahn had her apprehensions of Mari settling into such a decision, all for the young girl to turn at her with a smile.

“I thought that if I were to enter another house, I would not be able to help myself in comparing the children to Commodore Bang’s boys. I’m not as brisque and practical as you are, Mrs Ahn—much as I’d like to be. My affections get the better of my decisions. You must make me a good headmistress instead,” Mari smiled. She sighed and found herself inclined towards the old widow’s lap, in the same manner she might have done at thirteen, then wearied by arithmetics. “I must be prepared for the role I wish to achieve—to care for the school after you—now that Inha’s found her love.”

“And if your love came?”

“I am three and twenty,” Mari mused. “What luck should it be if I could—but that’s like finding a four-leaf clover.”

“Mari, you must be happy,” Mrs Ahn insisted. “I cannot help but feel like you are settling yourself into an everlasting gloom. No—do not reply to me, listen well. You were entrusted to my care thirteen years ago, and I’ve acted as your mother since. I want you to live your life in the world as well as you ought, and satisfy all your curiosities and yearning. As so I wish you would not just settle so to this own school. If you are to teach in another school, and another place, I would be glad of it for you. If you decide that you might live into another profession, if you are suddenly sick of teaching, you have my good wishes to do so. And if, like Inha, you are to find your happiness, you must not think of me, but happily fly into that path to that someone waiting for you. Promise me.”

Mari’s thought wandered again to Commodore Bang’s smiling eyes and the warmth of his hand. Her heart wanted and yet her mind knew that she could not—to entertain another possibility does not sit well in her, and the thought that she might have to, that she must, to be satisfied and to find care as a dependent, fills her instead with hollowness. Her answer came quiet like she was obliging to a hardy, prophesied labour, “Aye, I promise.”

[imreallyloveleee]

for @auroraworldtourftbughead who asked about my "road trip to ohio" fic: ok so this is a s5 au that i started writing back in Feb/Mar. it picks up a few weeks after they find Polly's body, ie at the point in the show where it became extremely clear that they were just dropping the arc they'd been building for Betty & Jughead and veering off in another nonsensical direction. i really want to finish this one and correct the sins of late s5, lol. (and i just miss jughead's family!) here is a snippet from the beginning of the story:

It’s just past eight in the evening. She’s dragging the trash bins from the garage out to the sidewalk for tomorrow morning’s pickup when she sees him standing in the driveway next door, struggling to wrestle an oversized duffle bag into the storage compartment of his motorcycle.

“Jug. Hey.” She’s already halfway across the yard between their houses by the time he notices her. His eyes soften from surprise to mild concern as she approaches.

“Hey. How are you holding up?”

Betty mulls for a moment over her response. It’s a fair question to ask someone three weeks after they found their sister’s body rotting in the trunk of a rusting, broken junkyard sedan. She doesn't especially want to answer; she's just tired of coming up with ways to change the subject.

Thankfully the scene she's stumbled upon makes it easy. She gestures to the bag. "Hanging in there. What’s this?”

Jughead sighs, giving the duffel bag another half-hearted shove, to no avail. “I’m heading to Ohio for JB’s graduation.”

Recognition flickers dimly in her memory. He’d mentioned this to her weeks ago, when they were deep in investigation mode, one of probably a thousand things he’d said that had filtered in and out of her brain like water through a sieve. She’d said something like oh, my god, she’s graduating already? we’re so old! in response, and then promptly returned to obsessing over their latest clue in the hunt for the highway killer.

“But I guess the gift I got her is too big for this stupid thing –” 

“You’re driving all the way to Ohio on a motorcycle?” she interrupts. “In the middle of the night? Isn’t that, like, a seven hour drive?”

He shifts his gaze away from her, towards the Andrews house, which she interprets as yes, I know this is a dumb fucking idea and no, I don’t want to talk about it. 

After the last few months she's had, she can relate.

“It’s tomorrow,” he says. “I was supposed to leave yesterday, but – I kind of got distracted, with everything that’s been going on.” 

Betty tries not to react to that. He must mean “everything” that’s been going on with Tabitha – her parents’ arrival in town, their burgeoning relationship. Kevin had seen them out at a restaurant together with the Tates, holding hands at the dinner table. Betty wishes they’d just make it public already, post a couple's photo on Instagram or something. It’s getting uncomfortable, pretending she doesn’t know.

He's muttering to himself, hoisting the duffel bag out of the storage compartment and onto his shoulder. "Maybe if I repack this into a backpack instead…"

“You can take my car, if you want,” she offers, and then, without allowing herself to actually consider what she’s proposing, adds, “Or…I could come with you.”

Jughead freezes, his eyes darting from her face to her car where it sits in the opposite driveway, and then back again. “Oh, no – I couldn’t ask –” 

“We could tag-team the driving. And I’d love to see JB and your dad, and…everyone.” She doesn’t actually know if Gladys is still in the picture or not. “To be honest, I – I really need to get out of this house for a few days.”

She knows how she sounds: desperate. But she also knows that if anyone in her life can come anywhere close to understanding what this is like – what it means to be the child of a parent who is a walking, weeping open wound, a gaping hole of need that cannot possibly be filled – it’s Jughead. 

(And she feels guilty for thinking of her grieving mother in those terms, she really does, but the truth is she’s suffocating. Put on your own oxygen mask first, Dr. Glass told her all those years ago. It was just about the only useful thing he'd imparted to her in a cumulative sixteen hours of therapy, other than a prescription for Adderall.) 

“At least take the car,” she insists. “You can’t even fit your stuff in here.”

Jughead’s lips press together. His eyes flit back towards the house again – only the garage light is on, which is where he’s been staying. “You’re sure you want to sit in a car with me for seven hours? I’ve got terrible taste in music.”

Her face breaks out into a tremulous smile. It feels weird, but good – the first uncontrolled display of emotion she’s had in weeks that wasn’t borne of despair. 

“I’m sure.”