#work and baby wrangling have taken over my whole life

[numinous-queer]

being with baby Kerwin is such a joy and a privilege, I can’t even tell you. The chemicals have fully taken hold of my brain, and he has me wrapped around his little pinky finger. That baby could smile at me and I’d crawl the desert for 40 miles on my knees for him. He is just the sweetest and happiest little guy, so cheerful and eager to explore even when he feels sick. He’s had a head cold the past few days, so there’s been precious little sleep to go around here, but he has been such a trooper. Even when he wakes up in pain from teething, his cries are so peaceful and gentle, it’s wild. Babies have such wildly different temperaments, and I don’t know how we got so lucky to parent a child whose primary trait appears to be CHEERFUL OPTIMISM about everything, holy cow. He’s like a cartoon caricature of a happy baby for goodness sakes!

He’ll be turning 10 months in exactly a week, and is getting bigger and stronger every day. He crawls SO FAST and is mastering pulling up to stand on everything all the time. Whenever he sees other kids playing and running around you can just see the wheels turning in his little head... he wants to run SO BADLY, and when that day comes we’re going to have to race to keep up with him! And he’s so CHATTY! You can tell that this little baby has been spoken to lovingly every day of his life, and he is just bursting with things to say. Sometimes he perfectly enunciates “Hi YAH!” like a ninja, and part of me wants to tell him that was his first word.

(pictured above: artistic depiction of the baby at diaper changes)

Kiddo flies back to Boise for a little bit this weekend, and we’re going to miss him so much. I’m hoping that the paperwork for the adoption can be completed by the end of the summer, so we won’t have to shuttle Mr Baby back and forth across state lines much longer. He’s a champion traveler, but that’s a lot of time zone and routine changes for someone who hasn’t been around the sun a whole revolution yet!

[soufcakmistress]

Unveil

Part IV

A/N: I know yall wanna fight me LOL I couldn’t figure this next part out to save my life. But my brain is working a little better now, and I wanted to get this out. Not me posting two fics two days in a row! Don’t get comfortable because this is out of the norm LOL stay tuned boos!

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black Reader

Snoring peacefully in the king bed of the guest house with an open window, the loud buzz of a lawnmower startled you almost to death. Erik’s baritone carried over to the guesthouse, guiding the landscaper while giving him notes. Rolling your eyes internally at the thought of Erik, you gather up the courage to roll over and pick up the burner Erik gave you. It was time to let your best friend know what’s up. Knowing her cell number by heart, your fingers tremble as you input the digits. It only rings once.

“Y/N???? Y/N? Sis is that you??” Denitra sounded like she had been waiting by the phone the whole time for a call from a number she wouldn’t even recognize. You immediately burst into tears. Everything from the past is flooding back. You and Nitra busting ass for midterms. You supporting her when she crossed and wrangling all the balloons at her probate. Y’all squealing over the gigantic engagement ring Eddie proposed to you with. The last embrace you guys ever had before you left behind all that you ever knew.

“Hi baby. I’m sorry. It’s just so good to hear your voice. I’m okay! I’m okay.”

Denitra shut her office door closed, and paced back and forth nervously. “Where are you, Y/N? Are you alone??? Do you still have money? Has he tried to still—“

You give a good belly laugh with your face still wet with tears because that’s how your best friend is. Making sure A and B equal C. “Nitra, take a breath sis. I promise I’m okay. I’m not gonna tell you where I am, so do not ask. Just know that I’m being taken care of properly.”

Nitra looked at her phone like it had three heads. “Bitch, who is taking care of you???” More belly laughs from you. Y’all chat it up for the next 30 minutes. You’re very careful about revealing any info to your best friend. If there’s anything you know about your ex fiancé, it’s that he will stop at nothing for information. Giving her plausible deniability could save Nitra from his wrath. Or push him further into mania. You had to believe in your heart of hearts she would be safe if she didn’t know anything, for your own sanity.

~

“Miss Y/N, I have prepared breakfast for the house in the dining room. I would love for you to join us!” Leah, Erik’s middle aged housekeeper, spoke over the intercom to make you aware. Maybe you and her could spend some time alone today.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll be there!” You finish up with your best friend, shower and cross the pool to the house. The house smells absolutely amazing— a spread was made of scrambled eggs with cheese, turkey sausage, and homemade biscuits. “Leah, this is awesome! Thank you so much!!”

Leah was definitely one of those Black women who could throw down in the kitchen and cherished when people enjoyed her food. She leaned back on the island and sipped her coffee with pride. It was only you and Leah downstairs, but you did happen to peep some luggage by the front door. Who’s leaving? Black Barbie? Or Black Ken?

Holding no qualms about your outer appearance, you dug in. You were starving, and Leah put a hurting on them biscuits. Light steps are heard coming from the upper floor and Monica appeared looking completely ethereal. “Good morning everyone!!”

It was still a bit early for her to be elongating her vowels but you greeted her accordingly. Leah didn’t speak, just peeping over her coffee mug. “I unfortunately have a day trip to Cali—Christopher John Rogers’ publicist has been incessant about me modeling their new spring collection. I’ll be back tomorrow evening though! You ladies have a splendid time!!” Monica split a biscuit in half, gave you an unexpected bear hug, and traipsed out the door.

“Thank God. I’ll at least have one person to talk to with more than half a brain cell.” Leah washed out her mug, and you snickered when she said that. It was petty. But, oh well. Leah winked at you, when Erik decided to show up.

“Ladies. Good morning.” He typed away at his phone while he made himself some coffee. Leah responded. But not you. What could you say to him now that you seen what that dick was hitting for? It’s evident he caught you looking last night and he wanted you to look….right? Not stopping to sit down at the table with you, he picked up a biscuit and headed back upstairs. From the bannister on the upper floor, Erik could look into the kitchen from above. You lost the fight not to gaze at him. Looking up, he was already staring at you before going into his office and shutting the door. Why is this man so intense…

Leah began clearing the table since you were done eating and cut her eyes at you. Something was up between you two, but she didn’t push. Erik told her everything about your situation and how you both came to meet. Leah was trustworthy and lived a lot of life before working full time with Erik. She empathized with you wholly, seeing that you were lost in the world. She was proud of Erik for doing the right thing—the boy was certain he was damned to hell. This was proof he wasn’t.

“I’ll wash if you dry.” You offered. Leah accepted happily, nice to have someone who didn’t act like she was a personal maid. You noticed that Leah didn’t say much. She was always watching though.

“Leah, what do you have planned for today?” Putting your hand on your hip, you turn to her with a smirk on your lips.

“Well, I do need to coordinate with the pool boy, wash a couple loads, vacuum the guest rooms, start on lunch—“

“Ehhhh, that can wait. Let’s go shopping. I gotta get off this property or I’m gonna go postal. Erik’s a big boy, he’ll be all right for a few hours. I’ll go tell Caleb to start the car.” You leave to let the driver know, not even allowing her to respond. Fun was majorly needed.

Meeting Leah at the front door, you pile in the expedition to head to the nearest mall. Scratching your veve tattoo on your side, your thumb scrolls through the mall directory when you get an iMessage from an unknown number.

“Going somewhere?”

Who else would it be but him? It was purposeful to leave without telling him. Erik had you twisted all the way up inside…….it wasn’t totally smart but this gave you some semblance of control back into the dynamic. Being a helpless damsel in distress wasn’t a good look on you and you didn’t want it to start now….even if you really did need all the support you could get. You weren’t gonna pass this moment of brief freedom up. “Yes I need things. And I need some fresh air.”

“This ain’t no damn vacation. Get what you need, and have Caleb return you ladies back to the property.”

Oh? He is feeling very jazzy this afternoon. You leave him on read, and hop out with Leah. She’s very patient and a very good listener. She can sense the wheels turning in your head, sorting what to do and what’s already been done.

The two of you scoured through Old Navy, Five Below, Rainbow, Bath and Body Works, Aldo, and left a whirlwind in Macy’s. Caleb fought his frustration watching you traipse from store to store. Retail therapy was a balm to your open wounds. The cares of your world fell away trying on different jeans and comfortable jumpsuits while you reconciled everything. A blessing also came in the form of companionship with Leah.

Widowed at 45, the Nashville native was blessed to have two pensions and an empty nest. She let you in on how her and Erik met and how he was like a son to her now more than anything. The two of you conversed over piping hot Japanese teriyaki in the food court surrounded by department store bags. “He reminded me of my son Travis. His father died when he was so young, and it was an uphill battle to wrangle him back from the dark side. Erik has his demons and yet he still has a code. I could never deny that boy.”

You listened intently and soaked it in. Demons huh? You figured he had access and resources being an alleged government contractor but it appears his baggage is a bit more nuanced. What had Erik seen and done? Why go out of his way to help a stranger? You had more questions than answers but were still somehow pleased with the new info.

Caleb had been staring a hole in your head for the last half hour. You put him out of his misery and he comes to gather your bags. Leah squeezed your arm and y’all headed to the car. The mean grinch awaits you both and had lashings for you for sure.

~

“Split up. Go. Ven allá!” Eddie directed his goons to search the town square in the sleepy little town of Randolph, Vermont. Two guys took the north end, while three guys took the south end. They questioned jewelers, shoe repairmen, butchers, ski shop owners, hotel clerks, etc. Nothing revealed any inkling of you. Eddie himself called every single roach motel in the surrounding area and nobody by the name of Y/N Nazario. He even asked if you went by your maiden name, and still nothing. “Something’s not right.”

Him and his goons reconvened at a late night diner. They couldn’t look more out of place—Cuban and Haitian American men with no sense of humor being served by lily white folks whose most lively occurrence were a cat getting stuck in a tree. “Boss, could she have been tipped off?”

Eddie ran through the scenario again and again in his mind. There should have been no time that you would have known he was coming. “Are you guys sure that she didn’t see Arturo at the train station? If she saw his fuckin face, she would have been spooked.”

Eddie’s lieutenant, Carmen insisted personally that he didn’t. Arturo wouldn’t be able to eat without a feeding tube for a while to make sure of that. “Let’s go. We need to pay a visit.”

~

Back at the ranch, you and Leah have situated all of your new purchases in the closet and bathroom in the guest house. No more living out of a purse. To end the night, you guys head back to the main house while Leah popped the cork on a Merlot that was to die for while some smooth jazz played on Erik’s surround sound.

He comes from his garage after playing around with a transmission for an old school Chevelle he’s been restoring, to see you two cozied up. At least you found someone to confide in. “Thelma and Louise have returned I see.” You both cackle and pour him a glass.

“Better watch your wallet!” You bust out laughing, clearly tipsy.

“Wel I’m glad you had fun but can you please let me know that you’ve left the house before you just duck off like that? We’re trying to keep you safe remember? I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are.” Erik gives the warning tenderly but with some steel as well. Leah says nothing and sips more of her wine, secretly amused at his overprotective nature. She knows he means well.

You drain your glass and go to pour another one. “Yes Dad. I’ll always check in before curfew.” Red wine always does this to you.

“Well kids, I’m going to lay down for the night. I’ll see you both bright and early for breakfast.” Leah rinsed her glass out and placed it in the sink and kissed Erik on his cheek. “Good night, son.”

“Good night, Leah.” His dimples make another appearance and your stomach does a hurdle. She squeezes your shoulder and heads upstairs. You take your glass and the whole bottle to the couch, and you feel his eyes on your back the whole time. How was this going to work?

The wine fills your mouth adding to your buzz and your eyes close as you bob your head to the jazz. You feel the couch dip as Erik sits right next to you. “I see someone ran it up today.”

“I deserve it, don’t I? With all things considered..”

His eyebrow raised and he inhaled more of the Merlot. “No complaints from me, Y/N. Just pointing out the obvious. I see you and Leah have gotten close. She’s an outstanding woman.”

“Yes she really is. So sweet and so wise. I enjoy her company. Reminds me of my mom..” Damn. How long has it been since you’ve spoken with her?

“Have you used the burner phone yet? I hope you have, I told you it can’t be traced.”

“Yes, I reached out to my best friend. She’s sworn to secrecy. Not my parents though. One word from me and Eddie would absolutely know something right away, they can’t hold water.”

Erik drained his Merlot and poured the rest of the bottle into his glass. “Well at least you know who to trust with certain information. Can I ask you a question?”

Your heart fell in your butt when he said that. Oh God. You weren’t ready to reveal that you been daydreaming about his bare body all day. “Shoot.”

“Your tattoo. It’s a Haitian veve with a Kongo cosmogram around it. Does it mean something?” Erik was fishing for info for sure. How could someone so sweet and tender as you get caught up in such an evil force as Mr. Nazario?

“We’re gonna need more wine, if we’re going to get into that.” Erik immediately got up and got another bottle of Merlot and a corkscrew and poured generously for the both of you.

Words start pouring out of you. The whirlwind of you and Eddie’s romance and how intense and handsome he was had you under a spell. It didn’t take much for him to convince you to become his queen of his empire. Erik listened intently and engaged with you. It’s no wonder why Monica is head over heels. He’s fine as fuck, incredibly sharp and got bank. But he’s holding something back.

Him and Eddie weren’t that different in that regard you found. Erik revealed very little about himself yet was able to extract information from you with ease. Too easily, for that matter. Eventually, you were all talked out, and fell asleep on the couch. Erik was comfortable himself and didn’t want to move. He pulled the throw blanket over the both of you, whispered “sweet dreams” in your ear, and dozed off himself.

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[buckysimp101]

Everything the Light Touches (18+) - Chapter Five

Mafia!Bucky x F!Reader

warning: language, angst (sorry yall but i promise the smut is coming, it’s just a slow burn besties)

a/n: the response from the last chapter has been AMAZING! I’m so glad y’all are enjoying this fic, I’m enjoying writing it! If you read “Love at First Grade” as it came out and you’re reading “Everything the Light Touches” now, you’re probably noticing that I’m not posting as fast and I feel like that’s just because I want to make this story last a little longer than my last. So. hope that’s okay, hope you enjoy! 

Series Masterlist

The date with Liam rolled around faster than you expected. As you sat in front of your vanity, fixing your hair and your makeup and wearing one of your nicest dresses, a part of you couldn’t believe that you’d only been back in the city for 72 hours and already your mother had successfully set you up on a date. Liam had texted you this morning, Marsha must’ve relayed the news to him because you’d promptly discarded the contacts of everyone of your hometown acquaintances when you left for California a decade ago, and told you that he’d be at your apartment to pick you up around seven and to ‘wear something pretty.’ The semi-demand put you off almost immediately and had you dreading the date all day. 

A small part of you was thankful that Pepper and Tony had given you a few days to settle back in before having you go to work, but if you had known your mother had planned this, you probably would’ve told them that you didn’t need any time to get back used to the city and you would start back as soon as the movers left your apartment. Not that it would’ve prevented your mother from setting up this date. Your whole life she’d been practically forcing the two of you to hang out, whether by inviting Marsha and Alexander over for dinner, or just by hosting parties and he happened to be there, Liam Stinson was always around.

He was the kid to pull on your hair and make fun of your bows or your pink dresses when you were in elementary school. In fact, Liam Stinson picking on you was how Bucky and Steve became your friends in the first place.

Twenty Years Ago

“Leave me alone, Liam!” You yelled as he tugged your hair in between his fingers, laughing as you struggled to get away. He managed to successfully free your bow from your hair and was now dangling it in front of you face as he teased.

“Awww, does the wittle baby want her bow?” He pushed out his lips in a mock pout as he held it just out of your reach, making you stand on the tips of your toes to try and wrangle it out of his grasp. An evil grin took over Liam’s face as he flung your bow into the mud puddle, your jaw dropping and tears welling up in your eyes as you watched your favorite bow sink into the puddle. Liam’s laugh was cut short by a loud “ow!” The noise had you whipping around to see Liam holding his face and running away from two boys. 

“Are you okay? Did Liam hurt you?” the blonde one asked, the brunette still watching the path that Liam had taken to make sure he didn’t run to one of the teachers. 

You shook your head softly, unsure if they were going to pick on you like Liam, before answering, “I’m okay, he just pulled my hair and threw my bow in the mud…” you trailed off to see that the brunette had picked up your bow from the mud puddle and was in the process of wringing it out before handing it back to you with a grimace, almost as if he was apologizing for not being able to clean it all the way.

“Thank you…?” You questioned, waiting for the boys to introduce themselves.

“Oh, I’m Steve, that’s Bucky,” the blonde spoke with a smile as he nodded his head in the direction of his friend. The first thing you noticed about Bucky, besides that you thought his name was funny, were his eyes. A blue so deep you almost got lost in them at just eight years old. You knew that the polite thing to do would have been to thank them for helping you and getting your bow but your mouth spoke before your brain could stop you.

“Bucky? What kind of a name is Bucky?” Your nose wrinkled a little before you realized what you had said but before you could apologize the boy in question was laughing.

“It’s my nickname, Stevie gave it to me. My real name is James Buchanan Barnes…but we agree that’s just a lot,” he spoke as if he’d had to explain his nickname a thousand times over in his short lifetime. 

You nodded your head slowly before responding, “I like Bucky…but why not Jamie?” 

His lips quirked up into a little grin, “you can call me Jamie if you like it.”

His words caused your cheeks to heat up and Steve to laugh at his friend. 

“Well thank you Steve and Bucky for helping me…do you wanna play with me? We could play tag?” Twin grins etched upon their faces, the three of you chased each other around the playground of the rest of recess. You had always wondered what Steve and Bucky had said to Liam to make him run away but not tell any teachers about what had happened… but then you just considered yourself lucky that no questions were ever asked.

And thus a tight-knit friendship was formed. Or so you thought.

“You look great,” Liam drawled, his eyes raking over your body, as you had to force yourself to not roll your eyes and to thank him instead, returning the compliment as ‘sincerely’ as you could as he ushered you inside the restaurant. You weren’t necessarily lying. Liam Stinson was attractive in the robotic, young politician way. With short brown hair and brown eyes, a polite smile that could sometimes be viewed as a sneer, he looked like every young Senator you’d ever seen. All you could do was cross your fingers that the date would be over before you knew it and pray that your mother had only promised one date and not a follow up. 

After the incident with Bucky and Steve all those years ago, Liam hadn’t teased you again. In fact, for high school his mother and Alexander had actually moved Liam to another private school closer to his house so you weren’t forced to see his face every single day. But, his mother was close with yours, which meant that you would occasionally see each other or be forced to hang out when there were parties hosted at your house. Occasionally, Bucky was there to act as a buffer, especially when his parents were invited, but the invitation extension to the Barnes family became less and less common as the years went on even as you and Bucky had grown closer, something that had confused you to no end. 

“So your mom tells mine that you’re back in town for good. You’re working with Stark Industries now? Secretary?” Liam questioned as he leaned into the booth, smoothing one arm over your shoulders, making a shiver crawl down your spine. 

Taking a sip of your wine for a little liquid courage you corrected him, “I am back in town, for as long as Stark Industries is at least. And no, I used to be an Executive Assistant, I’m now their lawyer.” Liam’s eyes bulged at that last tidbit, as if it was the first time he was hearing it and it wouldn’t have surprised you if it was. Your mother was not super thrilled when you had told her you were going to law school for corporate law. She had wished you would have stayed as a receptionist or secretary instead so that you could start a family faster. You’d very quickly shut those hopes down.

“Wow, corporate lawyer…that’s…wow,” he muttered as he sipped his own drink. You were about to question his run for Senate, something that you really didn’t care all that much about but you figured it was an easy turn of topic, when a voice you hadn’t heard in years interrupted you.

“Oh my god, Y/N L/N is that you sweetheart?” The all-too-familiar voice of Winnifred Barnes broke out as your attention was turned to the entirety of the Barnes family. Next thing you knew, you were being engulfed in a hug by Winnie, the comfort of her hug forcing up reminders of days past when she would hug you and tell you she loved you, and how lucky she and her family were to have you in their lives. George was next. When you were younger, he always acted a little more aloof than his wife, but he never failed to tell you how proud he was of you and how he knew you were going to go far. 

When George pulled you in for a hug of his own he whispered in your ear, “heard you kicked the Bar Exam’s ass, superstar,” he winked as he pulled away, a look of mixed confusion and embarrassment pulling over your features. You knew after Bucky had left you that your parents had begun to massively limit their interactions with the Barnes family so the fact that George knew you were a lawyer had you slightly confused. 

The only member of the Barnes family that was reacting in any fashion of ‘normal’ was Bucky. He didn’t say a word the entire interaction, merely keeping his eyes narrowed on you and Liam. The only words he spoke were to his parents so they could return to their table, yet another cold and harsh interaction to remind you that he was not the same man you had once loved. 

“So…you seemed…pretty close with the Barnes family…what was that about?” Liam questioned right as your food was arriving, your stomach clenching at the mere thought of how close you’d truly been to them once upon a time.

“Oh…um…Bucky and I used to date. That’s all,” you offered the information as nonchalantly as you could, to try and make it seem like it was no big deal, but either the information or your delivery startled Liam as he almost choked on his lamb. 

“Wait…you…and James Barnes…used to date?” His question sounded almost non-believing and borderline teasing, with a hint of interest as if he was digging for more. The tone made you square your shoulders and face him with as serious a look as you could muster.

“Something funny?”

“No it’s just…hard to imagine you with a mobster.” 

Liam spoke lazily but intentionally, as if he was trying to get some information out of you or embarrass you or…both. But you weren’t having it. And as much as it pained you, you also weren’t about to out Bucky or his family legacy to Liam Stinson.

“James Barnes isn’t a mobster. He’s a businessman. Enough about the Barnes family. Tell me about your run for Senate.” The topic change worked because Liam launched into his story about fundraising, attending multiple charity events and even droning on and on about how helpful Alexander was during the whole thing. The topic became boring rather quickly but it gave you something else to focus on than the George and Winnie Barnes shaped hole that was re-forming in your heart. When the meal was finally over you thanked the universe that you didn’t run into Bucky or his family any more, and that Liam had stepped back from offering you a ride home. You thought that was it as you waited for your ride…until Liam brought up a little piece of information that you’d not been given.

“I had fun, Y/N. Can’t wait to do it again next week.”

The moment was spit take worthy, but sadly for you there was no drink to be found. Your head whipped towards him, eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that he was joking. 

“What do you mean next week?”

“Your mom told me that we’d be going on these dinner dates once a week for the next month…she must’ve forgotten to remind you. But don’t worry, I’ll pick you up next week. Wear something like this again, your legs are killer,” he offered a sleazy winky before heading to his chauffeur and riding off into the night, leaving you in front of the restaurant with your mouth agape at the news bomb he’d dropped.

An earful. That’s what your mother received when you’d returned to your apartment and called her immediately to fuss at her for promising something you had no intention of delivering. 

“Mom, no. I told you one date. Not one date a week for a MONTH!” You had practically screamed into your phone, trying to keep your heart rate normal as you listened to her tone deaf apology.

“Oh sweetie, it couldn’t have been that bad! I’m sure you had a great time, and it’s a free meal! Oh please just indulge your poor mother for a little bit,” she’d pouted, weakening your resolve until you finally groaned out a partial agreement to her plan. Promising to go on only one more date with Liam but no more after that. She agreed to the compromise pretty quickly, alarmingly quick if you had thought about it, but you merely brushed it off. Your first day at work brought up even strange news.

“A gala, Tony? Really?” you groaned after Tony entered your office to tell you all about the welcome home party he’d been planning under the guise of a gala. Tony Stark liked to party. You knew that. Hell everyone in Manhattan knew that. And a small part of you knew that you wouldn't be able to worm your way out of attending.

“Come on, Stark Industries is back in the city! We’ve got to celebrate it in style and YOU, my little cutthroat lawyer, are going to party and you’re going to like it,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, looking to Pepper in hopes that she’d be able to assign you with something to keep you busy but she just shrugged her shoulders as if to apologize and squeezed your arm.

“I know it’s soon to drop it on you, but we bought you a dress. And shoes. And we know you don’t have anything to do thanks to the fact that you have your personal calendar still linked with ours-OW!” Tony exclaimed, Pepper’s lips drawing together in a tight line after she elbowed him to get him to shut up.

“What Tony means is, we would love to have you there. We do already have some clothes purchased for you if you do come, but we’re not going to force you to go,” Pepper spoke calmly, her eyes glaring daggers at a somewhat sheepish Tony. Your sigh spoke volumes but you agreed, knowing that it would give you an excuse to not see Liam for your second date.  Sadly, Liam only stated his understanding and how he would just reschedule your dinner for another time. The silent groan of dread filling your mind as you read his text to reschedule for the following week. 

The gala, much like the first date with Liam, arrived quicker than anticipated. Even though Tony hadn’t given you enough time to truly prep for it, he’d obviously given Pepper enough time to plan a gorgeous party. The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was practically glittering from all the camera flashes as more members of Manhattan’s elite began to crowd the hall. Sadly, a number of Manhattan’s elite included people you hadn’t seen in years, but they seemed to recognize you. One by one half of the parents of your old classmates, your parents’ old friends, and even neighbors you hadn’t seen in years approached you, asking how you were and what you were doing, how your parents were and if you were single. And one by one, their conversations became more and more overwhelming. 

Your shoulders grew tense as you tried your best to find a way out of the conversations when all of a sudden, a warm hand slipped around your waist and a smooth voice spoke, “excuse me everyone, but Ms. L/N owes me a dance.”

Bucky Barnes stood next to you in his tuxedoed glory with a cocky smirk plastered onto his lips as he pulled you away from the growing crowd and forced you onto the dance floor. Anger simmered in your stomach at his manhandling and you attempted to rip yourself from his grasp, but his hands only tightened as they moved to your waist and your free hand, moving one to his shoulder. As he began moving the two of you around in a waltz he leaned in close to whisper in your ear.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Ms/ L/N. The way I see it, I saved you from the overstimulation you were receiving back there.”

His voice was cool, knowing, as if to prove that he could still read your body language after all these years. But the cockiness in his smirk only angered you more causing you to hiss, “I don’t owe you anything, Mr. Barnes. Now if you wish to keep your hands attached to your body, I recommend you letting me go. Now.”

Bucky chuckled at your threat but only continued to dance with you, even going so far as to pulling you tighter to him, as if proving that your threats meant nothing.

“I’ll let you go when I’m good and ready, Ms. L/N. But first I have a few questions for you.”

“Well I have a question for you. What the fuck are you doing here?” You spat, hoping your tone would show that you were only seconds away from completely losing your cool. Again, your tone and your threats seemed to do nothing to Bucky as he shrugged lightly and responded.

“Didn’t you hear? Stark Industries and Barnes Inc. have been connected for years. One would think a corporate lawyer would have done her research for the company she works for,” his voice was teasing but his eyes were serious and the pit in your stomach returned at the realization that by moving back to New York with Stark Industries you had unintentionally opened yourself up to Bucky and his ‘family.’ 

So that’s how George knew I was a lawyer…he’d talked with Tony…Tony and I are gonna have to have a real serious conversation after this…

“Now that I’ve answered your question you can answer mine, what were you doing with Liam Stinson the other night?” Bucky quipped, pulling you from your thoughts. You tried not to let the confusion show on your face at his question and instead attempted to goad him a little.

“Why? Jealous?” You cringed internally at the juvenile way you’d shot back at Bucky, but didn’t let that embarrassment show on your face. Instead, you focused on his eyes. They always told you how he truly felt when you were younger but now they were merely two balls of steel blue sat on his face, not conveying a twinge of emotion. 

“How could I ever be jealous of him,” Bucky sneered as he spun you around before pulling you tight to his chest again, “only one of us has ever truly known you….”

Your anger bubbled over at what Bucky was insinuating and you ‘accidentally’ misstepped and stomped on his foot in the process. The brief stint of pain was enough to distract Bucky and allow you to stagger out of his arms. “Fuck you, Barnes. You don’t get to speak about me like that. You don’t get to touch me. If I want to go on a date with Liam fucking Stinson I will. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” Bucky straightened himself up, his eyes aflame with an emotion you couldn’t quite read. 

“Liam fucking Stinson,” he growled before taking a step closer to you, keeping his hands to himself in fists by his side this time, “is dangerous, Y/N. You’d do well to keep away from him.” Something in Bucky’s eyes flickered as he spoke the last part, something akin to pain, before his harsh mask returned.

Your mouth twisted into a sneer at his audacity to speak to you like he knew what was best for you, “I’ll do. Whatever the fuck. I want,” you bit before whirling away and heading away from Bucky. Not looking back once at the man you left on a crowded dance floor. 

Your heart thundered in your chest as you made your way to the born, requesting an Old Fashioned as soon as possible. Downing one. And another. And another. The booze coating your stomach as a way to try and drown out the sound of your heart in your ears. Bucky must have left, or at least he didn’t approach you for the rest of the night. And at some point between Old Fashioned 1 and 2, you pulled out your phone to let Liam know you’d see him tomorrow…and the week after that…and the week after that. 

Because what better way to get James Barnes out of your head than by doing the thing he’d warned against?

a/n 2: Also, if there are any grammatical/spelling errors in this chapter, I apologize! I’m not feeling 100% today but I wanted to get this out to yall before my ridiculously busy work week!

taglist:

@youlightmeupfinn

@la-undercover-latina

@niki-is-a-thing

@gloriouspurpose01

@wintasssoldier

@crazyunsexycool

@the-fool-who-jingled

@missvelvetsstuff

@enchantedbarnes

@asoftie4bucky

@theluvcafe

@snufflet

@some-lovely-day

@mochie85

@fangirlvoice

@juulle987

@fab-notfat

@jackiehollanderr

@hallecarey1

@sherlockstrangewolf

@lokisasgardianvampirequeen

@tripletstephaniescp

@potatothots

@desert-fern

@dhoruwolfie

@emmabarnes

@sky0401

@broadwaybabe18

@thebuckybarnesvault

@wallace02sblog

@youngblood199456

@a-small-blue-nebula

[sevlgi]

happy accidents

requested: yes by @moonbyul-yi​

group: blackpink

pairing: lisa x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: cat cafe!au, reader’s a cat person, also i’ve touched like 3 cats in my whole life

warnings: none

synopsis: There’s only one person who you haven’t met at your prospective new job, but you should always watch out for happy accidents.

a/n: y’all if this flops like all the other lisa fics i will riot

word count: 1.2k

It’s supposed to be a warm, comfortable summer day, but Lisa wouldn’t know. She’s stuck inside the overly-air-conditioned back room of the cafe she works in, and she’s starting to get fed up with it.

“Jennie!” she shouts, forgoing honorifics purely for the shock factor.

Apparently, it works, as the older girl sticks her head inside the room with an incredulous look on her face. “What?”

Lisa only offers a grin as her apology, then picks up her inventory clipboard and whines, “If I call you ‘unnie’ properly for the next month, will you swap places with me?”

“Why should I, brat?” Jennie frowns, but she’s already stepping inside. Almost half of the inventory’s done, anyway, and she has always preferred doing such simple things to chasing the kittens around the cafe. “Fine, but if I catch you slipping, you’re finishing inventory for the next week.”

The taller girl escapes without another thought, whipping her apron off and hanging it on one of the many hooks in the hallway. Chaeyoung watches her in amusement from behind the counter, still tapping a rather complicated into her tablet. “Excited to see the same cats you see every day?”

“I always am,” Lisa grins, scooping up the first stray kitten she sees. “Hello, baby, have you gotten something to eat yet?”

“Jennie tags all the ones fed, remember? Just look for the pink stamp on their butts,” Chaeyoung reminds her. And just as she says, when Lisa turns the squirming cat in her hands, there’s a dust of glittery pink near its tail.

The kitten jumps out of her hands, and Lisa pouts. “They’re so fast now. Or am I just old?”

“You’re old,” Jisoo answers for her, smacking her on the head with a spare menu. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing inventory?”

Lisa scowls and tosses an empty cat food bag at the dark-haired girl. “Yes, but Jennie’s much kinder and nicer than you are, and she let me, the real cat person out of us 4, deal with the kitties.”

“Did I hear a compliment?” Jennie piles on from behind, eliciting a squeal, and she reaches to mess with Lisa’s bangs. “I’m impressed, Manoban, this is some real character development.”

“Hey, don’t touch the bangs!”

Lisa’s thankful that neither of the other two in the cafe come to mess with her, or she’d be even more of a squealing mess, but what she isn’t thankful for is that the door hits her leg when it opens. “Ow!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

She feels another pair of hands on her shoulders, slightly colder than Jennie’s are. “It’s fine,” she gasps, still squeezing her eyes shut. 

Jennie leaves-- Lisa can hear her voice moving farther, the traitor-- but the hands stay. She manages to open her eyes, and finds a frankly very embarrassed stranger.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologize again, and take her forearms to help her up. “I didn’t think you were sitting so close to the door.”

“It’s really okay. Um, just give me a second for the greeting.” Lisa rubs her leg for a minute more before straightening up with her characteristic smile and a menu taken from her pocket. “Hi, welcome to our cat cafe, my name is Lisa. Do you have any preference for seating?”

You shake your head quietly, and she nods. “Okay, then, you can just sit right there, closest to the cats. Have you been here before, or should I explain the rules?”

“I’ve been here before,” you respond. Lisa frowns; she doesn’t think she’s seen you before, and she’d definitely remember a face like that. “Do you know if Leo is anywhere?”

The other girl brightens then. “Yeah! I can find him for you, I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere this morning.”

Lisa scurries off to find her troublesome kitten, and in the meantime, you glance up to Chaeyoung, smiling at you. “You shouldn’t have told her you’ve been here before. She gets excited to show new people around, you know.”

“Hah. Well,” you shrug, straightening up. “I’ve been here enough to apply for this job, right? Am I getting interviewed? I apologize for getting stopped at the entrance.”

Jisoo raises her hand. “Uh, no interviewing, we don’t know how to do that. All you gotta do is work the cafe for one day, and we’ll observe you.”

“Okay.” When Jennie holds an apron out to you over the counter, you accept it in one hand and loop it over your head. There’s no nametag, of course, but it’s just for one day. “Um, where should I start?”

Chaeyoung tilts her head over your shoulder, and you turn to find Leo being chased over to you by one long-limbed girl. “He doesn’t like me today,” Lisa excuses with a pout.

You scoop the cat up to your chest just as she finishes, leaving Lisa’s mouth hanging wide open. “Leo! The second traitor of the day!” she gasps, and you can only laugh in slight embarrassment. “Abandoning me for the... new hire?”

“Oh. Yeah,” you say, picking at the half-on uniform. “Um, I’m trying the job out for the day, hope you don’t mind dealing with me.”

“No problem, as long as you don’t usurp my position as the favorite,” she shrugs. “What’s your position for now?”

Jennie interrupts, “She’s a barista, so that the other Miss Kim can stop breaking our espresso machines.”

Jisoo protests loudly from the back, but Lisa grins, “That’s great! We did need someone who’s fast at making coffees.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m fast,” you say, embarrassed. “What do you do?”

Lisa’s cheeks flush at your question, and you almost regret asking. Chaeyoung answers for you from the back, though. “She’s listed as a co-founder, but Lisa considers herself to be the resident cat person, so she just wrangles the cats when needed.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault the rest of you have dogs!” Lisa complains, cheeks flaming bright red now.

You mock-gasp, “Dogs? How traitorous...”

“I know,” the other girl scowls, reaching over to ruffle Leo. “Anyways, I think you should experiment with the coffee machine? Whenever there aren’t customers, though, I cordially invite you to join me.” Lisa extends a hand with a grin, and you can only nod like it doesn’t fluster you to take it.

Jisoo puts a hand on your arm to guide you towards the espresso machines. “Okay there, Romeo, time to remember what you’re here for,” she says, but her words are joking.

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to justify yourself, but Jisoo stops you. “Shh. I’m not stopping you, Lisa’s a great catch. She’s hot, she’s cute, and she’s actually emotionally available,” she grins, “unlike Jennie over there. I wouldn’t recommend going after my girlfriend, for more reasons than one.”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you say, and brush past Jisoo to fiddle with the espresso machine. 

But you can’t stop yourself from taking glances at Lisa as she plays with the cats. She does seem like a perfect catch, but you should probably finish your first day at the cafe first. 

[legolasghosty]

“you were having a bad day so i got you _” + your favourite rarepair!

Hello there! Funny thing, I haven't actually written much with rarepairs before this, so here's one I love reading. Apologies for the mess that is my first time writing these two. Hope you enjoy!

Bobby dropped onto the couch, exhausted from the day he’d had. Not only had they had to wake up at 4 am to work an opening shift at the coffee shop they worked at, but Luke had also insisted on band practice for the gig they had that weekend. He’d said three hours, but it had ended up being more like five. Afterward, Julie had left for work and Willie had picked Alex up for a night out together, so Bobby had been left to wrangle Reggie and Luke alone. It had taken nearly another hour to get the two of them to actually eat dinner, what with them constantly getting distracted by a combination of music and cute dogs.

They’d finally settled down to watch a movie in Luke’s room, finally giving Bobby a chance to breathe. He loved his friends, but sometimes it was hard to get them to take care of themselves. He supposed their whole friend group was a bit like that at times, him included. There were plenty of times where Reggie had carefully taken away his coffee so the caffeine wouldn't keep him up all night or Luke had casually leaned against his side to provide the physical grounding Bobby never knew how to ask for. But after the steady stream of rude customers this morning and the extra-long band practice, Bobby really wasn’t in the best shape to be the one reminding Luke that food was, in fact, a necessary part of life, and keeping Reggie from impulse ordering a set of measuring cups because he’d forgotten Julie had gotten them some a couple of weeks ago.

He rolled onto his stomach and squeezed his eyes shut as he buried his face in a baby Yoda throw pillow. They just wanted to go to bed and leave the long day behind, but they wanted to wait for Julie. She would probably be home soon, and they always slept better with her tucked into their side. He hadn’t been totally sure about it when the band started talking about getting a place together, since he and Julie had been together for less than a year at that point, but now he couldn’t imagine living with anyone else. It was like living with their family; not everyone got along all the time, but they all loved each other and took care of each other.

He barely registered the soft click of the front door opening, too worn out to look up as light footsteps came closer.

"You still alive?" Julie asked. 

Bobby felt the couch dip as she sat down beside their legs. "No," they grumbled, keeping their face hidden by the pillow.

"I guess I'm too late then," Julie chuckled, rubbing a hand over the back of his leg.

Bobby lifted his head to look at her with a mixture of confusion and adoration. "Too late for what?"

She grinned triumphantly and reached forward to pull a cloth grocery bag up onto the couch from the floor. "I noticed you were having a hard day," she started, sticking a hand into the bag, "so I got you some ice cream on the way home." 

She sat back up, now holding a carton of mint chip ice cream and a couple of spoons. Bobby felt a real smile cross his face for the first time in hours. They never got mint ice cream because Luke, Reggie, and Willie all insisted it tasted like toothpaste, but it was Bobby's favorite. He forced his aching body into a sitting position and reached out toward their girlfriend. 

"I love you," they murmured, pressing a chaste kiss against her lips before taking the carton. 

"I love you too," she answered as he peeled off the lid.

They lapsed into easy silence as she handed him one of the spoons and helped him adjust so he was leaning against her as they dug in. The cool flavors flooded Bobby's taste buds and Julie overwhelmed the rest of his senses. Her warm body pressed against his side, the sensation mingling with the smell of her perfume and old books as her soft humming filled his ears.

The whole carton didn't get eaten that night, they were both semi-responsible adults after all, but they stayed there on the couch long after they stopped eating. Julie filled the silence with stories from work, letting Bobby just relax for a while before dragging him up and to bed. 

As Bobby drifted off that night, they decided that today hasn't been quite so bad. How could any day truly be bad when Julie was in it?

And there we have it! My first real attempt at Jubobby. Hopefully it wasn't too bad? Thanks for the ask, have a good day!

Send me a prompt from the list below and a ship and I'll write a thing!

[newswcanonprompts]

Urban magic SW AU

(again, direct quotes)

(also, poster’s note: how would the clones tie into this AU? very interesting. also, i want art for this, that’d be so badass i feel like. unfortunately I can’t draw for shit so... idk i’ll just dream about it. sorry, anyways, BACK TO THIS)

I just read ‘domestic’ as ‘demonic’ and thought this was a very different conversation.

Anakin is a demon obi-wan summoned after fostering a kid because he can't cook.

Imagine being so bad at cooking your first instinct is to summon a demon to do it for you rather than like, buy a cookbook.

“Okay you summoned me what do you want me to do”                         

“Oh my god please cook, I am taking care of a child who needs protein and is allergic to soy and I haven’t cooked or eaten meat in two decades please help me”

“You know I'm a flexitarian who gets my protein from soy and bugs, right?”

“Oh my god i'm doomed!”

Vader, dark, looming shadow, eyes like molten gold:  “wHy dId yOU SUmmON mE?”                                                                                                    

Obi-Wan, cursing: “Oh fuck, I, uh, was trying for minor deity of ah, home keeping. uhm. Is your name Anakin? I just need somebody who can cook for my kid.”

Insert Vader's form shifting.                                                                    

Anakin: “Oh gosh finally somebody who doesn't want blood!”

Obi-Wan: “Do you just have split personalities or something?”

Anakin: “Do you want my life story or do you want me to cook for you?”

Obi-Wan: "Can you multitask?"

A family can be a local demonology professor and alchemist, a witch in the making and technically a prince of hell with a backstory that needs unlocking.

Can this also be a “pretending to be married” au cause I need someone to show up and be like “Obi-Wan who is this nice man?

"This is definitely not a demon uhhhhh. This is, thIS IS MY HUSBAND!!!!!” 

anakin: o.O

And Vader would always tease him about it, but sticks around anyway because he doesn’t want to go back to his demon master.

If this is an AU where summoning demons is normal, Obi-Wan would be more embarrassed about his reason for summoning, so he pretends the demon is his husband to hide the fact that he summoned for cooking help.

Maybe his dad Qui-Gon is a professional chef and puts a lot of pressure on him to be a good cook?

I don’t know,  maybe not Qui-Gon but having that pressure. RATATOUILLE! VADER IS REMY! BUT VADER IS NOT A RAT BECAUSE WE ARE NOT MAKING A BEE MOVIE EDIT OF THIS!

Obi-Wan: “ Look, my mentor and I already argue over the fact that I chose to abandon divination for alchemy, I do not need him learning of my abysmal cooking!”

Anakin being a wonderful "wife" and just a great person. Then Obi-Wan gets threatened. Tells Obi-Wan to go somewhere and Vader just slaughters the threat.

I'm absolutely imagining the kid Obi-Wan’s taking care of is baby Luke, maybe he was taken from Vader as a baby and Obi-Wan found him? THAT'S gonna introduce some tension between him and Vader!

Anakin, staring at Luke: “Where did you find him?” 

Obi-Wan: “On the street somewhere? Why?”

Anakin, preparing to go fight Sidious: “I need to kill a demon.”

WAIT, DOES THIS MAKE BABY LUKE HALF DEMON? How about half-angel instead?

No wonder he needs so much protein! Luke's diet has been all over the place in the past 4 months.

I think it's hilarious if Luke is half demon but stays the ray of sunshine we all know and love. Like yeah you go Luke, break those stereotypes!

Wait, where Padme is this?

Padmé hmm.... how about Vaderkin's previous summoner? And then Sidious Happened™️.

She is the person who summoned Vaderkin for similar reasons to Obi-Wan, then they fell in love, and had Luke (and Leia)

and Sidious happened, but Vaderkin didn't now, and.......

Sidious happened first and turned Anakin who was some,,, idk weird local deity/spirit into Vader and when he escaped:

he met Padmé, a talented magician who tried to fix it and make him Anakin again, which,,,, didn't really work.

It only cut his tie to Sidious so he's not holding the leash anymore.

Other side effects are the creation of Luke & Leia.

Which are basically the residue magic given form, hence them both being half and half.

And Vaderkin sort of disappeared in the whole mess so Padmé, injured but alive, grabbed the kids and ran, later hid Luke with Obi-Wan, Leia with Bail & Breha while now attempting to take down Sidious.

And Padmé thinks anakin actually died in the process.So we can have the whole family AND badass Padmé!

And then Obi-Wan just finds baby!Luke and takes care of him and summons Anakin without  knowing that Anakin is Luke's father...

Which would make Padmé checking in on Obi-Wan and Luke a lot more hilarious if Anakin just opens the door.

(Oh boy when Padmé finds out about Obi-Wan's fake marriage to Anakin that's gonna be some CONFUSION!)

Okay okay okay, so Palpatine is the dean of the college Obi-Wan teaches at and has been refusing to give him tenure or a promotion or any good class for like five years.

I really want Anakin to be like a deity until Sidious dragged him down to hell. So Obi-Wan summons Anakin under his original deity name because he wants to cook and is surprised to get a demon.

Obi-Wan: “So you're anakin... and vader?”

Vaderkin: “Yeah”

Obi-Wan, holding a crying toddler and not giving any fucks anymore: “You know what this checks out.”

Anakin was probably some form of God, because Chosen One you know?

I mean this ties in nicely with the origin of his name so like. Make him a God of fate, make him a creation of the universe itself.

Stardust runs in his veins, galaxies are born in his eyes, and all of that.

He was corrupted once Palpatine dug his claws and spilled golden ichor, tainting it the red of mortality, darkening to the unholy black blood of the underworld.

Oh yes!!!! So, the backstory:

He was stolen from his mother by Sidious, made a half-demon, then left and married Padmé, they had Luke and Leia.

Sidious trapped Anakin again and made him a full demon this time through the burning and lots of pain, he thinks he killed Padmé, but she is looking for him and trying to get him back but can't raise the twins

because she's trying to find their father and make him human again,

and he tried to kill  Padmé against his will, but she still believes in him.

Jedi are people who use the magic that create the demons and the gods to do good or something.

I mean Obi-Wan's still running around as a mortal.

Someone needs to wrangle these supernatural idiots and he's unfortunately the best person for the job.

If this is urban fantasy then Jedi could be the term for people that use magic

How about we tie this to the Fallen Angel Anakin, and have Anakin who was once a god, but was dragged down by Sidious

[jeonsjiddies]

Certain Things (m) | myg

original photo by snowmari on picsart

summary- you were in love with min yoongi, because he was a good person. You never thought he’d feel the same. F2l

rating- explicit 18+

word count- 5869

pairing- yoongi x reader

genre- fluff, smut

Warnings - oral (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, daddy kink, slight rough sex

Title inspired by Certain Things by James Arthur. <3

You did not fall in love with Min Yoongi because he was the dreamiest man you’d ever laid eyes on. 

You did not fall in love with Min Yoongi because he was skilled in just about everything 

You did not fall in love with him because of the way his body moved when he danced, almost like telling a story. 

It wasn’t the way he remembered your coffee order or the way he stuck his tongue out when he was concentrating. It wasn’t the look of concern in his eyes when you had a rough day. It wasn’t the way he could (almost) always tell what you were thinking. 

No. 

You fell in love with Min Yoongi because he was a genuinely good person. The kind of person who made you want to be better too. 

The way he’d do good things, the way he’d help people, especially when he thought no one was watching. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times you’d sat at your window and watched Min Yoongi help an elderly woman carry her groceries up the stairs, or insisted on taking the single mother's trash to the dumpster as she wrangled her child in the other arm. The times he’d fix things the apartment complex neglected to get around to, not even leaving a note. He never asked for any glory. 

The only time Yoongi sought out recognition was with his music.. His kind words and actions often went unnoticed or unappreciated by others. Yoongi didn’t mind that no one noticed, except you did. You noticed everything he did. 

The day Yoongi moved in next door a year ago, you noticed his minty green hair and his contagious, gummy smile. You’d smiled back and welcomed him to the neighborhood, offering to help if he needed it. Yoongi had politely refused your offer, telling you he did not wish to bother you. Hours later when you showed up with freshly baked cookies, he did not refuse those. That was the beginning of your friendship with Yoongi. 

After that, you two were almost inseparable, you were in his apartment or he was in yours. You talked and laughed and watched movies and got to know each other. The few moments you didn’t spend at each other’s side, you found yourself watching Yoongi every chance you got. 

Just last week, you had perched yourself at your window and watched with a fond smile as your neighbor and now best friend comforted a little girl who’d approached him with tearful eyes and scuffed up knees. 

Yoongi looked around for her mother, the single mom with too much on her plate, and when he didn’t find her he scooped the small girl into his arms, and gently distracted her with stories of a princess  he once knew who fell off her bike too. The little girl snuggled into Yoongi’s chest as he walked around looking for her mother, telling her how the princess got a special band aid that made her booboo stop hurting immediately, like magic. 

The mother darted over to Yoongi, spewing out apologies and thank you’s. She’d only turned her back for a moment and her toddler had disappeared. Yoongi shook his head, telling her it was nothing to apologize about and that he always enjoyed the young girls company.  Min Yoongi was, in your opinion, a literal angel. 

You smiled fondly, walking away from the window and stirring the soup you'd begun cooking earlier in the evening.  You often shared your food with Yoongi, knowing that if you didn't, the stubborn idiot would exist on nothing but instant noodles and americano coffee. As you stirred the pot, you let your mind drift off with thoughts of Yoongi. He had texted you late the night before while he was struggling to compose lyrics for his new song.

He sent you voice clips of him rapping verses and asked your opinion on lines for the chorus, and you'd helped him get through his little slump until he was so in the zone he forgot to reply. You'd woken up this morning to an apology text and hugged your phone to your chest, reveling in how sweet he was and thinking it was just as good as a good morning text. You knew it was stupid to pretend these interactions with Yoongi were more than friendly, but sometimes you couldnt help yourself from getting lost in the idea of being his. 

You wanted so badly to wake up to good morning texts from him. You wanted the hugs to last longer. You wanted him to hold you. You wanted to kiss those shiny, plump lips. Feel those veiny hands on your skin. You wanted to stay with him always, every time you parted from him a part of you seemed to dim. It was as if Yoongi was the sun and you were the moon, his warmth and energy reflected off of you and fueled your own.

Your entire life didn't revolve around Yoongi, not in the least. You had other interests and friends and hobbies. But it seemed like lately, he had wiggled his way into your heart so deeply, like a budding rose, the roots of your love for him were ingrained inside of you. Lately he had taken up more and more room in your heart, occupied more and more of your thoughts. You sighed, shaking off the empty feeling inside your chest and scooped the soup into two bowls.

You made your way over to Yoongi's apartment and balanced the soup so that you could knock. Yoongi opened the door a few moments later, wearing only grey sweatpants. Your mouth went dry and your grip on the soup wobbled as you stared at his exposed chest. Yoongi reached out to steady your hands and took the bowls from you, setting them down on the coffee table by the couch.

''Sorry I just got out of the shower. Let me go put a shirt on.'' Yoongi blushed, scurrying down the hallway and leaving you speechless at the entry.

You collected yourself, slowly shutting the door behind you and grabbing two spoons from his kitchen before sitting down on the sofa. Yoongi reappeared, fully clothed. You weren't sure if you were thankful or disappointed.     

''This smells amazing!'' he praised. ''I was just about to make some instant noodles but this is so much better. Thank you!''

''How many times do I have to tell you that you can't survive on instant noodles and coffee?'' you rolled your eyes.

''I don't know how to cook.'' he shrugged.

''I have offered to teach you a million times.'' you threw back at him.

''But if I learned how to cook you wouldn't cook for me anymore.'' he pouted playfully , knocking his shoulder into yours. 

''Big baby.'' you muttered, not bothering to hide the smile on your face. ''What would you do without me?''

''Probably die.'' he laughed. ''You're my best friend, I kind of need you.''

''Awww, Yoongi!'' you hugged him.

''Yeah yeah.'' he laughed, wrapping an arm around you in return. ''Just don't go anywhere, okay?''

''I won't, I promise.'' you grinned. ''Who else is going to feed you?''

''My point exactly.'' he winked, spooning more soup into his mouth and closing his eyes happily. “Ugh. Marry me.” He joked.

“You wish.” You laughed, trying to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. 

You wished. 

You chucked your coat off and threw it haphazardly on the coat rack then flopped onto the couch with a loud groan. You should have called in. You'd woken up late, your alarm didn't go off. You didn't have time to do your makeup if you wanted to shower, which you really needed to. So you'd gone to work looking like a troll, and things only spiraled downhill from there.  

Your boss had called you out in front of everyone at the staff meeting for being late to work, using you as an example for the new attendance point system. Snide remarks were tossed your way from various grumpy people which you attempted to take in stride. Then, in the breakroom you'd spilled coffee all down the front of your peach colored dress. 

You had texted Yoongi about your less than stellar morning and asked if he was having a better day. He talked you through your meltdown, trying to convince you that the universe wasn't out to get you  and the world wasn't cruel and unjust. He'd been the reason you made it through the work day, albeit by the skin of your teeth. Your whole body dragged on the way home and all you wanted was to see Yoongi's smile but he had promised a friend he'd go drinking with them. 

You flung yourself off the couch and changed into a baggy t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. You put on your favorite avocado face mask and relaxed with a lavender candle burning on the coffee table. You'd taken about two deep breaths when you heard soft tapping on your front door.  You whined out loud and got up, padding over to the door and flinging it open.

The poor teenager standing at your door jumped in surprise, almost dropping the pizza he was holding. Eyes wide, he stepped back a bit. Your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Sorry. Can I help you?” you asked as sweetly as you could, guilt flooding your chest.

“Large pizza for Y/N Y/L/N? ” he questioned nervously.

“But I didn't order any-” you began to explain before you were cut off.

“Sorry! Sorry I thought I'd be back in time!” Yoongi huffed, jogging up to you and the poor delivery kid. 

Yoongi took some cash out of his wallet and paid the young man before thanking him as he took the pizza and turned to you with a smile. He was also holding a white paper sack you couldn't identify and you shot him a quizzical look.

“Hey there Shrek.” he laughed at your bright green face mask which you had honestly forgotten about. 

You were thankful it hid your blush as you swatted at his arm in protest.

 “I thought you had plans.” you stated, ignoring his comment.

“I cancelled them.” he shrugged, moving past you to enter your apartment and set the pizza down on the coffee table.

“Why?” you asked, shutting the door and following him in.

“Sounded like you needed some cheering up.” Yoongi smiled, opening the paper bag and pulling out your favorite wine.

“Ugh, a man after my own heart.” you joked.

Yoongi just chuckled and uncorked the bottle, walking into your kitchen and pulling two wine glasses from the cabinet like he lived there. He poured you both a glass and sat next to you on the couch.

“I am fully aware that I am going to regret this decision, but I have decided that to cheer you up, we can watch whatever movie you want.” he told you.

Your eyes widened in excitement.

“Any movie I want?” you confirmed, “you won't complain?”

“One time only offer. Whatever movie you want.” he grinned at the childlike response.

“Harvard here we come!” you giggled, snatching up the remote and selecting Legally Blonde.

You glanced over at Yoongi, waiting for a snarky comment. He only gave you a pained smile. You snuggled into the couch with your wine in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other, feeling content and happy. Yoongi had turned the worst day into one of the best, simply by being who he was: kind and thoughtful.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” you said softly.

“No need to thank me. That's what friends are for.” he smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulders and leaning in for a quick squeeze. 

Yoongi left his arm around your shoulder while you two watched the movie, and you had never been more comfortable than you were snuggled into Yoongi's side with your wine and pizza and strong leading female character centered movie. With Min Yoongi by your side, maybe the world wasn't so bad after all.

Today was Yoongi’s birthday. He’d gone to lunch with his family the day before and had planned to spend the day with you once he got off work. You looked over at your coffee table, grinning at his gift that you’d wrapped perfectly, even put a pretty bow on top. You’d baked him a cake, which was iced and ready for candles. You opened the drawer, but did not find candles. 

Cursing under your breath, you checked the time before rushing out the door and running over to the small shopping center across the street from your apartment complex. You gave a friendly wave to the cashier, a college aged girl who worked there three days a week. You grabbed candles and a lighter then made your way over, making small talk with her and asking about classes.

“Thank god finals are almost over. They’re killing me.” She whined as you swiped your card. 

“Hang in there, it’s almost over!” You encouraged her and she groaned but laughed.

You made your way back to your apartment complex, thinking about Yoongi and his face when he inevitably saw what you’d bought him. You didn’t notice the clouds turning an angry gray. You did notice however, when the rain immediately started pelting down, drenching you in seconds. You squealed, holding your shopping bag above your head and jogging towards your apartment. 

Suddenly, the rain stopped assaulting you, and you looked up to find Min Yoongi laughing as he held an umbrella over both of your heads. Despite his eyes being the darkest color you’d ever seen, they shone with kindness. 

“Yoongi.” You grinned in surprise, “you’re home early!”

“Yeah, they let me go early for my birthday.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“Well let’s party!” You beamed up at him. 

The two of you ascended the staircase and made your way into your apartment. You shrugged off your soaked jacket and hung it up. Yoongi cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I-uh... your shirt.” He mumbled, apples of his cheeks dusted with a light pink flush. 

You looked down, cheeks burning as you realized your white t shirt was soaked through, revealing your lacy pink bra. You squeaked, arms darting out to cover your chest. You disappeared into your room, embarrassment flooding your face as you changed. Reappearing in front of Yoongi fully covered, you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.” He comforted you with a hand on your shoulder. 

The skin there burned. When you didn’t say anything, Yoongi pulled you into a hug, strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his warm chest. You let the warmth of his embrace comfort you for a moment before pulling away and putting the candles in his cake and lighting them before walking it over to him.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Yoongi! Happy birthday to you!” 

Yoongi’s gummy smile graced his lips before he closed his eyes and blew out the candles. 

“What did you wish for?” You asked, leaning in and wiggling your eyebrows. 

“If I tell you it won’t come true!” He chuckled.

You sighed dramatically with a smile and cut the cake into slices, handing him the biggest one. Yoongi took one bite and threw his head back with a groan. 

“This is delicious, Y/N. Thank you so much.” He praised. 

Your heart skipped a beat and you grabbed the neatly wrapped present from beside the couch, holding it out to him. 

“I told you not to buy me anything.” He glared jokingly at you. 

“Just open it.” You giggled. 

Yoongi took his time opening the gift, carefully peeling back the paper in an attempt to keep it whole and make less of a mess for you, thoughtful man that he was. He froze when he saw the box. 

“You didn’t.” He gasped.

Your giddy laughter was your only response. 

“These are... they... theyre too much, Y/N. I can’t accept them.” He sighed regretfully. 

“You can and you will. You deserve something special on your special day! It’s about time someone pays you back for everything you do.” You smiled encouragingly. 

“The cake was more than enough.” He argued, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the box in his lap. 

They were the wireless noise cancelling headphones he’d been drooling over for months, ever since the promo came out on Instagram. He’d been salivating when he showed you the ad for them, and you started picking up a few extra shifts here and there to put back money for them. They were a couple hundred dollars but you would’ve saved up thousands just to see the look that adorned Yoongi’s face in that moment. 

“Thank you... so much. I’ll pay you back for these. I’ll take you to dinner. I’ll-“ he began but you cut him off. 

“Don’t even think about it. Just take them. If you really wanna pay me back, write me a song.” You grinned. 

“I will.” Yoongi promised, engulfing you in a tight hug. “Thank you.” Left his lips in a whisper over and over. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

He pulled back and held you at arms length, eyes trained on your face. His gaze roamed over your features, drinking you in. His eyes searched yours for a moment before his gaze flicked to your lips. You waited with bated breath. 

“Y/N?” Yoongi's voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?” He questioned quietly, carefully. 

“Please.” 

His hand came up to gently cup your cheek. He angled his head and closed the distance between you. The moment his lips pressed against yours, it felt like coming home. He held you close, and you’d never felt so safe. Your heart hammered in your chest as your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers gently threading through his hair. Yoongi’s arms found purchase on your hips and he pressed himself closer to you, his tongue sneaking out and gliding along your lips. You parted them, and he deepened the kiss. You weren’t aware that your grip on his hair had tightened until Yoongi pulled back, resting his forehead against your own with labored breathing.

“I’m trying really hard to be respectful and not to push you, but you’re making it kinda hard pulling on my hair like that.” he admitted breathlessly. You could feel the thickness of him pressing into you.

“What if I want you to?” you asked quietly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi sucked in a surprised breath, his eyes searching yours almost frantically for a sign of doubt. When he found none, he interlaced his fingers into yours.

“Are you sure?” he pondered.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything or anyone.” you admitted, biting down on your lip nervously.

“Is this- Are you- I don’t think I can do this if it’s just a one time thing.” Yoongi sighed remorsefully. 

“I don’t want it to be.” you reply, gently running a hand up and down his arm comfortingly. “Yoongi I want you. In every possible way. You’re my best friend. I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a while.” 

“I’m in love with you too.” he whispered, like a secret he’d been dying to tell you. “Be mine?”

“Oh Yoongi baby, I’ve always been yours.” you giggled, pulling him in for a tender kiss.

Yoongi kissed you back, slowly. He took his time, exploring your mouth, relishing in the taste of you. You tasted a bit like the cake you’d both consumed not long ago, but also just distinctively...you. Yoongi loved the way you tasted, and he wondered idly if other areas of your body tasted just as sweet.

Gripping you by the hips, Yoongi pulled you up against him and you wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you towards your bedroom. Your hands gripped his biceps and he barely had to look where he was going, so familiar with your apartment since he practically lived there. He hoped to become as familiar with your body and how you ticked as he was with everything else about you. You could feel him pressing up against your core as he carried you, the friction causing arousal to pool. 

Yoongi placed you on the mattress gently, his body moving to hover over yours. He gazed down at you with longing in his onyx eyes, but it wasn’t just longing. He yearned for you, needed you, you knew this because you felt it too. The way he looked into your eyes mirrored your own expression. You were so desperately in love with Min Yoongi, and by some miracle, he felt the same way.

“I have dreamt about this moment for so long.” he admitted sheepishly, “I almost can’t believe this is real.”

“Me either. I can’t believe you’re here.” you giggled, letting a hand come up to softly caress his face, then push his hair out of his eyes.

“I’m not going to lie, I thought I was going to have to leave when your shirt was wet and I saw your bra. I didn’t want you to see my hard-on.” he laughed.

You covered your face and giggled in embarrassment, but Yoongi’s hands covered yours and pulled them away from your face, holding them on either side of your head.

“Don’t hide from me. Don’t ever hide any part of yourself from me. You are so beautiful, Y/N. I adore everything about you.” Yoongi cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Did you know…” he ghosted his lips to the other cheek. “That…” his tender assault moved to your forehead as he placed a kiss to it. “I…” his lips brushed the tip of your nose.  “love you.” he smiled, kissing your lips.

“I love you too, so much.” you  giggled, kissing him back and moving closer to him, his warm embrace cradling you. 

Something shifted, and Yoongi’s kisses got deeper, needier. His body lowered to lay flush against yours, but he was careful not to squish you. His erection pressed firmly into your core as he slowly rutted his hips into yours. A quiet moan left your lips at the swivel of his hips against yours and Yoongi’s kisses began to descend, his lips now working against the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping at the flesh. 

His fingers crept up to the hem of your dress, and he tugged gently on it. You lifted yourself, tugging it off and tossing it across the room. Yoongi had seen you in bathing suits that had covered the same amount of skin, but this was different and it had heat flooding your cheeks. You took a deep breath and willed all of your courage and unhooked your bra, letting it slip down your shoulders before tossing it aside as well, leaving you only in your panties. 

Yoongi’s jaw went slack as he stared at your breasts. You wanted to cover them, wanted to hide, but this was Yoongi. You trusted him with every part of you. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” he stated in awe.

His head dipped down and his mouth wrapped around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the nub. Your back arched and your whimpers got louder when he began to suck. His large hand reached up to knead and tweak the other breast. Your body responded immediately, hips bucking up into Yoongi’s. You gripped his shirt and tugged, mumbling “off.” Yoongi obliged, tearing the fabric off and tossing it away in one fluid motion.

Your mouth watered, eyes roaming his ivory skin, the smooth planes of his flat stomach, poofing out just a little. He was perfect. Yoongi’s cheeks were dusted pink again and you leaned up, placing soft kisses to his tummy. Yoongi wound his hands gently in your hair, watery eyes watching you as you worshipped his body the way he deserved. Your lips ghosted over his chest and you could feel his heart racing beneath your touch.

“You’re so perfect.” you cooed.

Yoongi covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, and you grinned up at him. His hands came down to cup your face gently, and you leaned into his touch before urging him backwards until he was lying on his back. You made quick work of his belt and zipper, pulling his slacks down and tossing them haphazardly away. You watched his face for a reaction, and he bit his lip to conceal a nervous smile. Your heart fluttered in your chest at how adorable he was. 

Despite the fondness filling your chest, you couldn’t help but feel warmth farther down when your eyes roamed over the tent in Yoongi’s boxers. You reached out and cupped your hand over his hardened member, palming him over his boxers. Yoongi let out a low groan at your actions, his hand gripping at the duvet cover. You slowly pulled the boxers off his body, 

Yoongi’s length sprung free once his boxers were removed and it rested against his stomach, thick, hard, and leaking.  You peppered soft kisses along the vein, bringing a groan out of Yoongi. Your tongue snuck out and cautiously slid across the tip of his penis, and his breath stuttered. You smiled to yourself, then took him in your mouth. Yoongi couldn't tear his eyes away from you, mesmerized by the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock. He'd had a million dreams about this very moment, but none of them compared to the way it felt to have his cock in your mouth. 

It was almost too much for Yoongi, the way you were bobbing your head along his length, twirling your tongue around, massaging his balls with the perfect amount of pressure. It wasn't all sensual, he could see the adoration in your eyes. It made his heart swell with joy.   Other parts of him were swelling as well as he neared his high. His hips involuntarily jerked, apologies tumbling from his reddened lips but you didn't slow down. You wanted to make him feel good, reward him for all the things he did for everyone else.

“Y/N, I..I'm gonna-” Yoongi warned.

You took the opportunity to take him deeper down your throat, swallowing around him. That sent Yoongi over the edge, echoes of your name falling from his lips, his body twitching as he spilled his seed down your throat. Yoongi took a shaky breath and gazed down at you in awe as you licked your lips clean after swallowing his load. 

 “Your turn.” He smiled, guiding you to lay on your back while he settled himself between your thighs, placing teasing kisses along the skin there.

He pulled your panties down your legs and licked his lips at the sight of your soaking cunt presented to him. Yoongi didn’t waste any time, bringing his lips to your folds and letting his tongue dart out to lick at your clit. You gasped, spreading your legs further apart, inviting him in. He slowly slipped one finger in your heat, working it and curling to hit that sweet spot that had you drooling. 

His lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked before using his tongue to attack the sensitive bundle of nerves. You knew Yoongi could move his tongue quickly based on every rap you’d heard him recite and you’d daydreamed about how that would translate to eating you out but his skills surpassed your imagination and he had you close to cumming in under a minute. He slowly worked more fingers in, stretching your tight hole while he seemed to recite spells on your clit with his tongue. 

No sooner than Yoongi added a third finger, you were careening off the edge, pleasure washing over you and Yoongi worked you through it, drinking up all of your juices and leaving a soft peck on your clit as you came down, which had your body jolting.  He reached down to his jeans and pulled out a condom. 

“Are you still sure about this?” He asked tentatively. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” You said with absolute certainty. 

Yoongi crawled up your body, leaving sweet kisses as he made his way to hover over you until you were face to face.  He bit his plush lip, looking into your eyes with so much longing it almost hurt to return his gaze. He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, leaving his large hands on your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. You leaned up and captured his lips with your own, and he melted into the kiss, immediately deepening it. His hands travelled down your neck, his fingertips tenderly brushing against the skin of your arms until he found your hands, resting beside your head. He interlaced your fingers together as he finally, finally entered you. 

You gasped into his mouth, squeezing his hand while you focused on the feeling of finally being filled  by the man of your dreams. Yoongi felt perfect inside of you, filling you up perfectly as if he was made for you and you were made for him. He stretched you in all the right ways and feeling him pressed up against your walls had your head spinning. 

'' You okay?'' Yoongi asked, stilling inside of you.

''Yes.'' you whispered breathlessly. ''You feel so good, Yoongi. Please.''

Yoongi began to slowly move inside you, taking his time and making sure not to hurt you. His hips met yours as he bottomed out and he let out a shaky breath, watching your eyes for any sign of discomfort. You smiled up at him, pecking his lips quickly. Yoongi was amazed at how brightly your eyes shined when you looked at him. His thrusts started picking up pace, your soft noises spurring him on. 

The two of you shared sweet kisses as he thrust in and out of your aching heat.  Your noises gradually got louder, the faster his thrusts got. The louder you got, the harder it was for Yoongi to keep his composure. While he'd been picking up the pace, he’d remained fairly gentle, but something in him snapped when you groaned his name, sounding particularly needy as you begged ''more.''

His hips snapped into yours in a harsh thrust , knocking the air from your lungs.  Gone was the sweet love making from moments ago, instead Yoongi was plowing into you with everything he had within him. Everything he'd held back this past year seemed to be pouring out, driving him to fuck you harder, faster. If you thought Yoongi's slow passionate strokes were maddening, you were absolutely ruined by his relentless, unforgiving thrusts.  

Your soft cries of his name were now loud moans, he had you writhing and screaming as he drove you closer to the edge with every brush of your sweet spot. 

''Fuck, you take my cock so well baby. I have dreamed about fucking you like this for so long.'' he growled in your ear, leaving hot, wet kisses along the skin below it.

''Me...me too.'' you whined at a particularly good thrust.

''Hmmm, I bet you have.” he smirked, bringing his hand between your bodies to rub lazy circles on your clit. 

“Did you touch yourself here?” he asked, applying more pressure to your sensitive bud. “Did you play with this pretty pussy thinking about my cock?” 

You nodded, overwhelmed with pleasure while Yoongi played your body like an instrument he'd practiced all his life. He knew exactly where to touch, how to rub, how to bring you to the brink of oblivion with a single stroke of his thumb. He was a damn sex wizard.  

“You're cute, baby girl. But  I need you to tell me. Tell me how desperate you were to feel me inside you. How you thought of me while you fingered yourself.” Yoongi coaxed, bringing one nipple into his mouth and making it impossible for you to think as his tongue rolled over it.

“Cat got your tongue?” Yoongi purred, licking a bold stripe across your hardened nipple, then the other. “Who makes you feel this good?”

 “You.” you moaned, walls clenching around his cock as you got closer to release. This response did not seem to satisfy Yoongi and he shook his head.

“What's my name?” he prodded.

“Yo...Yoongi!” you cried out as he rolled his hips harshly against your own. 

“Close... but you can do better, baby girl. ” his words were muffled by the hickeys he was sucking along your skin.

“Fuck… daddy.” you whimpered.

“What was that princess? Louder.” he commanded.  

“Daddy!” you groaned.

“Cum for daddy.” Yoongi demanded.

And you did. Your orgasm crashed over you, the most intense you had ever experienced before. You body arched off the bed into Yoongis and you let out the most pornographic sound Yoongi had ever heard. Your vision went spotty and your head felt light and your face contorted in pleasure. The combined feeling of your pussy clenching around him and the sounds you were making threw Yoongi over the edge and he came shortly after you, spurts of hot cum filling the condom. Yoongi didn't think he had ever cum this much in his life. He tied the condom and threw it in your trash can.

His savage streak gone, the energy drained out of Yoongi and he fell beside you panting. You looked over to meet his gaze and you both burst into giggles. His arms came to wrap around you to pull you into his chest. You sighed contently and nuzzled into his warmth. He stroked your hair softly, leaving soft kisses anywhere he could reach. You pressed chaste kisses to the skin of his chest, too exhausted to aim for anywhere else.

“I can't believe it took us this long to get here. We're pathetic.” you giggled.

“Better late than never, I suppose.” he grinned. 

“Always a bright side, that's one of the things I love about you.” you admitted with a shy smile.

“Oh?” Yoongi smiled, kissing your blush filled cheeks.

“There's certain things that I adore about you.” you explained. “Like how kind you are, and how determined and focused. How you always treat people with respect. How you scrunch your nose up. God its adorable.”

Yoongi covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, his own cheeks now turning a shade of red.

“I love you too, baby. I love how you take care of me. How your eyes light up when you smile. I love how passionate you are. You’re perfect to me.” Yoongi's voice was low and soft while he confessed. 

You hid your face in his chest, willing your racing heart to calm down, but Yoongi always made your heart race, it seemed to beat only for him.  Soon, exhaustion  got the better of both of you. You drifted to sleep in Yoongi's warm embrace, listening to your favorite sound in the world, his heart. And it beat only for you.

[slutsofren]

Danger Days Chapter 2: Kill All Your Friends

missed chapter 1? read here!

summary: things get thrown for a bit a loop at the dam when two strangers appear, revealing to be Joel, Tommy's younger brother and a young girl. their presence makes things a little tense but soon gets heated as danger follows them to thr power plant.

word count: 3,352

read on ao3 here

warnings: slight cursing, guns and well, canon-typical murder, hunter attack

notes: does anybody else look at joel and just wanna,,,, punch him in the face with kisses? just because he deserves it? no? only me? 

Humid. It was always fucking humid. The lot of you have been out at the dam for nearly a week with little to be shown as progress. Things in Jackson were doing fine, wonderful even, and then the power went out. Turns out one of the turbines busted, it’s taken you and the whole group working day and night to repair it.

You leaned against the wall, taking in the greenery that was slowly encompassing the whole hydroelectric dam. It was rather beautiful. You glanced over to David, one of the few engineers from the old world, was hunched over the table mumbling softly to himself looking over a rather poorly drawn map of the turbines, trying to figure out what was going wrong. Then glanced to the far side of the courtyard where Tommy and Maria were, both engrossed in some tense conversation. 

Whatever they were whisper-arguing about wasn’t going to be any of your business… until Maria finds you later on to vent at least. A little push off the wall and you grabbed your rifle before swinging it onto your back, groaning that your little break was probably over by now. Today you had guard duty. How fun.

You approached the duo, hoping to simmer down whatever was going on between them, likely both were stressed beyond hell for the turbine to come back on. Maria saw you first and put her hand on her face, rubbing away some tension. She said your name and pulled you into a half hug and you didn’t miss the small thanks she whispered in your ear for interrupting.

“Goin’ back on duty, want me to keep near the front gate?”

Maria nodded, “Sounds good. I’ll follow you in a minute.”

Tommy looked at you and gave you a friendly smile. Although you were casual friends with the man long before you met Maria, he knows where your loyalties lie but also knows you have his back on the field. When you first arrived at Jackson, bloodied and bruised, Maria didn’t trust you as far as she could have tossed you, but as things go, you both wormed into the others hearts through sheer sarcasm and your ‘take no shit’ attitude.

That’s when Tommy knew he was fucked being the only person between the two of you.  

You left and went to go to your post, fanning out the jean jacket you were wearing to help relieve the humidity on your skin. The entrance to the hydroelectric dam was hellbent on attracting unwanted attention. For the near week you’ve been out here you had two bandit attacks, not to mention the ones back at Jackson, causing you to feel even stickier.

You found a spot up top the entrance to keep an eye out through the scope of your rifle, not noticing anything for another couple of hours, Maria not even coming by to her post. Just as you were going to call your shift, you noticed some slight movement across the concrete jungle of the remains of the power plant.

And some more movement.

Then more.

You grabbed your radio and phoned in, “Activity to the east. Two spotted.” The radio clicked and produced static until another click sounded.

Maria called back, “Eyes.”

“Noted. Out.”

With that, you knew exactly what to do. Everybody did. When it came down to it, nobody really did want a gunfight. When the code ‘eyes’ is spoken, it means shut up and watch. If the people pass, they go on their merry way. If they don’t, well, they typically don’t leave alive if they so much as hint at being a threat.

It’s unfortunate this is the way life is now but who are you to fight the changing tides.

You peek through your scope again, watching a dark haired man and a smaller woman work their way through the maze, figuring out how to cross the water. You took your eyes off the scope and began to watch them without the tool until they both began pushing at the gate. You grumble, “Contact made.”

Maria pops in behind you on your left and together you two and two more of the on duty guards on the other end of the gate point your rifles at the duo, revealing yourselves. The man doesn’t take notice until the girl points a gun at your companions then you and he backs off the entrance.

“Don’t even think about drawing your weapon! Tell the girl to drop hers. Now,” Maria shouts besides you.

The man backs up a couple steps, sticking his hand out to the girl, “Ellie, so as the lady says.”

She looks at him and puts her arms up in surrender, “Okay.”

Maria, still holding her rifle at the two strangers, says to the man, “Please tell me you're lost.”

“We didn’t know the place was occupied, we’re just trying to make our way through,” he points through the gate.

“Through to where?”

Then a deep voice picks up, “They're alright.”

You and Maria look away from the two down to the voice, seeing Tommy approaching the gate. “What, you know these people,” Maria asks him.

“I know him,” Tommy grumbles as he opens the gate, “He’s my goddamn brother.”

Oh.

You’d heard stories of the man before, of Joel Miller. From what Tommy has said before you recalled that the man was a bit of a brute, shut off from everybody after losing his daughter. He was a hunter and did some goddamned awful things in this world but quite frankly, who hasn’t? You know you have in the past to ensure your survival. It was something Tommy hated that his brother participated in but you couldn’t blame him, not after the shit you’ve seen and done.

Joel looked at his brother and his shoulders slumped, “Tommy.”

“Holy shit,” he said and moved past the safety of the gates and went straight to Joel, wrapping his arms around him.

“How you doin’, baby brother?”

Maria shot you a look that clearly stated she didn’t trust the man, despite being her brother-in-law, she heard the same stories you did. The man was a hunter, a murderer, even a smuggler. The very kind of people that don’t bode well with Jackson. With a sigh, you both put down your rifles and headed down to the gate to meet Joel and the girl, Ellie. She walked right up to the two men and you could faintly hear Tommy say, “You got fuckin’ old.”

“Easy - it’s gonna happen to you too,” Joel quipped.

Tommy took a step back, you watched how he shuffled on his feet and introduced Maria. “Be nice to her, she sorta runs things around here.”

“Ma’am.” Joel nods his head towards her. “Thanks for not blowing my head off.”

You roll your eyes at this from where you’re watching this all unfold, internally gagging at Joel’s whole ‘southern charm’ bit. Although he should be more grateful to you for not shooting him. Maria looks at Tommy beside her, “Would’ve been embarrassing, considering you’re my brother-in-law.”

An amused smile immediately hits your lips as you watch Joel try to absorb that information. He looks between the couple a few times before Tommy says, “We all gotta get wrangled up at some point.”

Maria turns to you and you lose the smile as she extends a hand for you to approach. “And this here is my second in command,” introducing you to Joel by giving him your first name and he nods his head, both of you deciding to not say a word to each other, silently sizing the other up. His eyes don’t leave yours but for a brief moment you swear his eyes flash down your body and back up as he lets out a low huff.

Oh, it’s on old man, you think.

Maria chuckles, noticing whatever the hell is happening between you two, and she turns towards the girl. “Ellie, right? What brings you through here?”

Ellie looks towards Joel for guidance, “Uh… it’s kind of a long story.”

Tommy immediately notices all the other eyes and ears watching this interaction unfold and puts his hand on Maria’s back, picking up the clear signal for some privacy. “Why don’t we bring ‘em inside?”

“Yeah, you hungry,” she asks Ellie.

“Starving,” the girl groans. You smile a bit, feeling pretty amused at this whole thing. From the stories you’ve been told about Joel it seemed very unlikely he’d be traveling with a companion, much less a child.

Tommy steps aside as you walk back through the gate first, Maria and Ellie behind you. “False alarm. They're friendlies,” you shout, walking further in the power plant leading the group. You take a quick glance around at the other scouts on shift, watching them watch the newcomers. Everybody was on edge, everybody was wary. The fact Tommy and Maria were letting some strangers in, in the midst of repairing an essential component to Jackson functioning properly, was not going past anybody.

You can hear Maria as she explains the stares and the heavily armed posts to Joel somewhere behind you, “We’ve been dealing with raids. Lots of bandits in this area.”

“It’s been quiet for a few days,” Tommy adds on, explaining why they answered at the gate so aggressively, as if it was any consolation of almost killing his brother and the girl.

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought I’d find you in Jackson.”

“Been trying to bring the plant back to life,” Tommy explains.

This time you chime in, “We had it working before, but one of the turbines went south about a week ago. Been tryin’ to fix it up.”

Tommy adjusts his rifle on his shoulder. “We have electricity Joel… had. We’ll get it running again.”

Ellie runs past you, approaching a few of the horses. “No way! You guys have horses.”

“We got a whole lot of ‘em,” Tommy tells her. You watch as she puts her hand on the brown and white one, petting it softly.

Beside the horse is Cherry, one of the few horse wranglers in Jackson, she was kind and sweet, pretty young too all things considered. She was tall and bulky from years of shoving heavy loads of hay, sometimes you’d wonder what it’d be like to get tossed around by her. She’s kind of notorious for winning hand-to-hand combat scenarios in the training hall. Not that you ever went.

Cherry tells Ellie about the horse and they get to talking about the animal. You also hear Charlie over your shoulder asking Tommy for help with one of the iron shoes on another horse. You take a few steps back then marching towards the warehouse, settling against the wall next to Earl and he gives you a brief nod acknowledging you. He’s sweet, you think, you’ve never spoken to him much but you recall he’s one of the maintenance men around Jackson. Thankfully he’s the silent type and you don’t have to try and make polite small talk with him.

As you both lean against the wall quietly, you begin watching both Ellie and Joel and how they’re assessing the environment. Ellie seems very excited petting the horse and talking to Cherry but Joel looks on edge, mirroring everyone else. He catches you staring and looks away slowly, now watching Ellie talk to Cherry about going riding later on.

Maria and Tommy make their way towards you and you push off, walking up the stairs and opening the door, you faintly hear Maria talk to Earl about heading back to Jackson. The door creaks open and you let Tommy, Joel, Ellie, then Maria into the warehouse until both your and Maria’s radios crackle. “Maria, we’re in the control room. Steve’s about to start it back up. Do you wanna come check it out?”

Maria sighs and mumbles back to you, “I’d rather eat with Ellie.”

You stifle a bit of a laugh at her candor in front of the others and Tommy interjects, “It’s my turn anyway. I’ll go.”

Joel then volunteers to go with his brother, telling Ellie to go with you and Maria but not before flashing you a look that says something akin to ‘try something and I’ll hunt you’.

Before Ellie could protest, Maria pulls her along. “C’mon, Ellie. Let’s give the boys some space.”

The three of you are relatively quiet leading back to the office room where the food was. Ellie kept looking over her shoulder, likely for Joel. You started wondering how he came across her, doubting any possibility she was his daughter. Tommy would have known if that were the case.

You gave a look over at Ellie, now seeing her a little closer. She looks slightly gaunt, likely hasn’t eaten in a few days you suspect which worries you a bit. No kid should have to go without.

“When was the last time you ate,” you ask her.

She ponders for a moment, “Before we got here I was pretty sure that the next squirrel I saw I was gonna eat.”

You and Maria raised your eyebrows at her admission before gently laughing as you reached the room. Maria pulls out some jars of fruit and a container of jerky from underneath and hands it to her, “Here, eat some of this. We have better options back in Jackson but while we don’t have a full service kitchen out here, this is the best we got.”

“That’s okay! I’ll eat almost anything at this point,” she openly admits. You take notice in how expressive she is, likely warming up to you and Maria now.

The three of you get to talking, making idle chatter over a few opened mason jars and a hefty supply of jerky. The more you talk with Ellie, the more you grow to like her. She’s got a mouth of a sailor and sarcasm that’d turn any old man running. 

Wonder if she’s annoyed the hell out of Joel, you muse. Now you sit, chewing on fruit and imagining how easy it’d be to get under his skin. You’re torn out of your thoughts when the lights suddenly turn on, “Thank the damned stars! I’m ready to get out of here. Everybody is driving me up the wall.”

Maria throws a loose grape at you, “Thanks a lot, asshole.”

“Anytime,” you wink.

“How long have you two known each other,” Ellie asks you both. 

You pop a piece of fruit in your mouth, “Just two years. She was already married to Tommy when I arrived.”

“Can’t believe you’re married to his brother,” Ellie groans. “Joel is such a grump, can’t imagine how the other one is.”

Maria nods and smiles, still eating some of the peaches. “Oh, trust me. Some days I want to strangle him. Didn’t expect to ever meet Joel, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“I couldn’t recognize him, not even by that photo,” you say mindlessly, reaching for your canteen and drinking water.

Ellie picks her head up a little more, “Photo? What photo?”

Maria gets up from her seat and walks to one of the duffle bags in the other room, she searches around before she pulls out a photo and when she returns, hands it to Ellie. She gestures to you, “Her and Tommy went down to Texas about a year ago, he wanted to see what was left of his and Joel’s old life and scavenge what they could.”

“We didn’t find much,” you continue, “Tommy didn’t think he’d ever see his brother again, it was like his way of saying goodbye so he took this photo of him and a couple others.”

“Who’s the girl,” Ellie asks looking at the picture.

“Sarah.” You shift in your seat, not feeling entirely comfortable with this conversation anymore. 

Maria finishes your sentence, “She was his daughter. She didn’t survive very long after the outbreak.”

Before you could try to steer the conversation in another direction, a loud siren echoed through the hall as shouts filled the warehouse.

“Bandits,” someone shouted as gunshots rang out.

You stand up and push Ellie behind you, looking for your rifle. It was too far away, tucked under one of the abandoned desks. “Fuck,” you shout as you see a handful of hunters enter the room.

Drawing the two handguns strapped to your thighs, you begin to take shots at them, not exactly hitting them where it was vital but enough to make them stumble and drop. Maria grabs you by the shoulder, “Let’s go!”

You retreat backwards into the closed off manager-type office and from the corner of your eye you see a man rise from the other side of a broken window and take aim at Ellie behind you. You whipped around and shoved against her with an ‘oof’ just as you hear something whizz past you and hit the wall above the two of you.

Hovering above Ellie, you keep her head down with your right hand, abandoning the gun beside her as you and Maria take alternating shots at the invaders. “Move, Ellie,” you tell her, lifting yourself up to give her room to maneuver into the office while shielding her.

Maria shuffles into the room after you and the girl, “There’s more coming in. We can’t take all of them.”

“Shit, okay,” you look around frantically. You were running low on bullets now, the rest of your spare ammunition was left in your backpack. In an entirely different area. Your eyes searched around the small room and you got Maria’s attention, together you pulled a nearby table into the office, barricading yourselves. 

“Under the table, now,” she yells at Ellie then looks at you.“Guess we’ll have to wait for the men to save us,” she says a little bitterly.

Together, the three of you hid. Waiting for the echo of bullets to cease after what feels like a lifetime.

Faintly, you could hear the familiar voice of Tommy yelling and a gruff one responding, likely his brother. You released the breath you had been holding onto as the last gunshot rang out. Between you and Maria, Ellie had her hands over her ears and she slowly lowered them until jumping up and shouting “They’re all dead!”

Maria rose to her feet as Tommy and her called out for each other, “The kid’s with us!” She jumps out the shattered window and runs to her husband as they check over each other.

You help Ellie out the office room the same way and Joel looks over her the same way as she recalls the attack.  “Joel, oh, man…,” Ellie begins talking so fast that she’s out of breath. “They were coming in from every direction and they were both like ‘we gotta run’ and so we dove over these tables and this huge guy blasts in with a shotgun-”

“Slow down, slow down. Listen-,” Joel cuts her off. He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks her in the eye, “Hey, hey, are you hurt?”

“No!” She looks at you, “She protected me!”

Joel follows her gaze and you look him in the eye, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

You’re not really competitive, you don’t really like attention either, but there was something about Joel fuckin’ Miller that really got to you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be mindful of everything, maybe it was the way his eyes roamed over your body, maybe it was the fact he was unfortunately making you squirm where you stood as his hardened glare seemed to see right through you, asking you to try him.

Whatever it was, his hardened stare made you quiver ever so slightly. You took a few very mindful steps away from the man, walking towards Maria and Tommy when you caught the tail end of whatever he was saying to your best friend, “- to talk.”

It seemed like that was not what Maria wanted to hear as her already pale face grew paler and her signature scowl etched back across her face.

[thejollyroger-writer]

THE WASTELAND - DEAD MAN’S PEAK (14/15)

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Almost there!! Thanks for sticking around with me for so long -- I promise it’s all worth it. 

SUMMARY:  In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

Specialist thanks to @spartanguard for her lovely art and @cssns​ for making it happen, and especially to all you guys who have stuck around for all of this – we’re almost done, I promise! Special shout-out to @thisonesatellite​ for her incredible fight scene beta work, bc I’m terrible at them and she is not and she helped wrangle my thoughts like Merlin had to wrangle -- well, you’ll see. Her help created one kick-ass kicking ass scene, and I hope you all enjoy it. 

Also on AO3

“The last climb to the peak is just ahead,” Wendy huffs, out of breath from the last big hill as she points ahead of them. Though they have kept the thought to themselves, there is a collective fear that the large wall of rock ahead of them was the last step of their journey, a silent prayer said to whatever higher power they believe in to spare them from what looms ahead. 

But even with that, not a single one of them is surprised to learn that their worst fears are true. 

Their adventure across the island has taken only a few hours since Wendy finished her story, a breath of fresh air to the hardships they’ve encountered over the last few days. It’s like the island has run out of obstacles for them, is ready for them to take the last leg of their journey and finally reach where they came here to go in the first place: Dead Man’s Peak, home of the healing waters which will hopefully save not not only Killian’s life, but David’s, as well. 

Now that they’re so close, can see the crags and footholds on the formation instead of simply a looming presence, a thought forms in the back of Emma’s mind, the reality of things she hasn’t allowed herself to think about. Though most of her fears come from travelling all the way to this island and failing to save Killian’s life, she finds herself thinking about what would happen if they failed to save David, about what it would mean for them to return to the Gale with news of the Prince’s death. What would they tell his father? How would they announce the news to the kingdom, when David’s rejection of his father’s views brought so much hope to so many people? The riots, the bloodshed, the anger that would come from that could be worse than the toll the War has taken on the people of the Gale.

She looks up from the path in front of her to where David and Mary Margaret are walking side by side and watches as he releases her hand to offer her the canteen from his hip. What would Mary Margaret do? Heartbreak would only be the beginning of her grief, raising a baby without the love of her life, without the man she has planned everything with for most of her life. In a world without him, without the hope he brought her, not to mention the rest of the world. Not a day would go by that she wasn’t reminded of her loss. 

“Emma, love, you okay?” She almost doesn’t hear him, drowning in her own fears, but Killian’s words pull her back to reality as he takes a few larger steps to catch up to her. 

“Hm?” She turns to him with as much of a smile as she can muster at the moment, though thankful that he acted when he did, before he could find herself more lost in the fears in the back of her mind. 

“You just looked like you were worried.” 

“Well,” she replies before gesturing generally around them, pulling a soft chuckle from Killian. 

“More worried than usual, then.” 

She wants to just shrug it off and say the island is getting the best of her, but she makes the mistake of turning towards him, seeing just how much he cares obvious in his pure blue eyes that have had her attention from the first moment he opened them the first morning she found him in her office. She sees the worry painted on his face, some of it from their circumstances; but knowing that some of that worry comes from the way he cares for her, she feels the walls she has built around herself crumble just a bit. “Something about almost being there is making me start to face the things I’ve been avoiding since this all started.”

“It’s going to be okay, love,” he whispers, reaching out to squeeze her hand, and though she can tell he doesn’t want to let go, he still does. 

“How do you know?” She has no idea where the question comes from, and the last thing she wants to do is put more stress on him, but once it’s out, there’s no taking it back. 

He just shrugs. “I don’t know for sure, really, but I have faith in you and in David and the rest of our crew.” 

“Aren’t you scared?” She feels the same way about this question as the previous one, and he stops, watching as David and Mary Margaret move down the path in front of them. This time, she’s the one who reaches out for his hand; he’s thankful for it and turns his attention towards how she threads her fingers through his instead of looking at her for his confession. 

“Of course I’m scared. I’ve never been so bloody terrified in my life. But if we’re destined to beat this, to get past this and leave Neverland behind, then whatever we find at the top of this mountain should be a piece of cake, as long as we do it together.” 

The urge to kiss him is too strong, the second time today she’s dealt with it, but there’s nothing to stop her now. They’re at the end of the group, no one to come through the brush behind them. “Killian,” she whispers, moving to close the space between them as she rests her other hand on his chest, careful to avoid the area where she knows his injury to be. She can feel the pounding of both of their hearts, his under her fingertips while hers is strong enough to be felt through her whole body — but just like every other time they’ve touched, it comes with the same wave of calming peace rushing over them. 

But Killian shakes his head, releasing her hand to rest his on her shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he mumbles with a chuckle. “I don’t — I want our first kiss to be without this cloud of death and destruction hanging over us, not until we know we’re both making it off this damned island.” 

She laughs softly, resting her head against his shoulder, “That might be the most sensible thing you’ve ever said to me, even if going home means going back to the Wasteland.” 

“After this, anything seems possible.” She moves to step away from him, but instead he places his hand on her hip, keeping her close to him. “Just… promise me something, Emma?” She looks back up at him and she doesn’t mean to pull her bottom lip between her teeth, but doesn’t regret the way his eyes grow wide at the sight of it, focused on her mouth until he blinks it away. “Don’t — don’t go back on this, yeah? On us?” 

Nodding, she swallows the lump in her throat. “Okay,” she says, her voice much more hoarse than she expected it to be. For a moment, neither of them dare to move, Killian’s thumb moving slowly against the soft skin above the waist of her pants as her fingers toy with the material of his tee shirt. If they could stay here, time unmoving around them, able to ignore everything but each other, no threat of poison, death, war, looming over them — they would take that without a second thought. 

But that’s not their current reality. “We should catch up with the others,” he whispers, though he already regrets that it would mean moving away from her, out of their shared moment, and she nods, stepping away from him, but reaching down to thread their fingers back together. A shadow of a smile crosses his face and he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against the back of it, against the sensitive spot at the base of her wrist, as they begin to move back towards the rest of their friends. 

 The climb to the peak proves less futile than it looked, and between the magic of the Magistra, an Elder, and Merlin, they quickly build a quick magic-driven pulley system after Emma and Merlin climbed together. 

Everything moves smoothly, every climb taking only a few minutes, until only David, Robin, and Belle remain at the bottom. David takes the rope in his hands, wraps it around his left wrist — and falls to the ground, his knees hitting the worn dirt with a thump. 

“Dave!” Robin cries, rushing to his side, and Emma has to wrap her arm around Mary Margaret’s torso to keep her away from the ledge, soothing her as she screams out in fear. “Dave, what’s wrong?” Robin asks, kneeling next to where the Prince has fallen in the dirt. 

“Dreamshade.” He can barely get the word out, his shoulders rising and falling with quick, labored breaths. “Spreading.” 

Robin moves to lift his shirt, pausing to allow David to nod his permission. 

It’s bad. Very bad. Robin has watched as Emma checked on this wound over the few days since he obtained it, and has seen how it failed to spread from the man’s rib cage to the opposite side, staying away from his heart. Now, all of that has changed. Robin watches, eyes wide, as the poison continues to spread, inching closer to where David’s heart is pounding in his chest. 

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, and David turns his attention down to his wound, which he has been avoiding. When he sees what Robin sees, what causes Belle to gasp and cover her mouth as she looks over Robin’s shoulder, every drop of hope drains from his face, taking the color with it.

It’s just as bad as he expected, the absolute worst case scenario, and he squeezes his eyes shut as his nightmares come true, trying to keep himself from spiraling. He’s not making it off this island. He’s never going to see the Gale again, never going to watch the sunset over the mountains from his balcony. He’s not going to meet his heir, the child that has made it through the same Neverland hardships that he has — save the poison. 

“I can’t climb,” he whispers, wrapping his fingers around Robin’s forearm. 

Robin nods. “Yeah, okay, then you — you and I will stay down here.” 

But David shakes his head. “No, they... need you. To fight.” 

“I’m not leaving you down here alone.” 

“What’s going on?” Mary Margaret calls from the top of the cliff, still held back by Emma’s arm, though they have moved closer to the edge. 

“He can’t climb!” Belle calls back. 

“Let me go back down,” Mary Margaret says to no one in particular, and Emma releases her with a nod. 

“I'll go, too,” Regina says. 

No one argues with either of them, even through Regina’s uncharacteristic offer of assistance. 

“Can you poof us down there?” Mary Margaret asks, taking Regina’s hand when she offers it to her, confused but relieved by the soft smiles they share. 

Regina squeezes her hand with a nod. “I hope so.” One hand wrapped around Mary Margaret’s, she swirls the other in the air in front of them, leaving only a cloud of dark purple smoke. 

For a moment, then another, nothing happens. The whole island seems to hold its breath. And then they appear at the bottom of the cliff, just feet from where David and Robin are still kneeling in the dirt. 

“David,” Mary Margaret breathes, crossing the space between them with quick steps, Regina following close behind. Together, Robin and Regina help the prince to his feet, moving him away from the base of the cliff and helping him find a seat on a nearby rock. Mary Margaret sits beside him, threading her arm under his and weaving their fingers together. 

Once they’re set, Robin and Belle share a glance. “You ready to climb, ma’am?” 

Belle nods, but gestures for Robin to climb first. Though he hates to leave his friend behind, he has faith that Regina will be able to offer David the same protection that he would, perhaps more with her powers as an Elder. But David is right, and Robin belongs where the fight will be, his rifle more useful to Emma and Killian. 

Hopefully. 

As he makes the ascent, Robin fears that they may have played right into Pan’s trap, leaving David and Mary Margaret behind at the bottom of the cliff, far from the waters that should heal him once and for all. 

“You just need to make it to the water.” Wendy points through the brush towards the sound of rushing waters. “One sip, and you and your friend will be healed.”

Killian nods, his chest suddenly heavy with a weight that has been strangely absent, a fear that he has successfully avoided thinking about since he first learned that David had also been poisoned, that their fates were now entwined. The chance of them all getting off the island is slim — impossible, with the knowledge shared by Wendy just that morning. He moves towards the brush, knows that he must be the one to cut down the brambles — but he also knows, somehow, that if they were to look at his wounds, they would find the black spreading under his skin as well, further than it has before, getting closer to taking his life, to the end that he always knew was coming, somewhere in the back of his mind. 

“Who gets to do the honors?” Merlin asks, and though many of them are holding knives, no one moves any closer to the wall of plants. 

“It has to be me.” 

“Why?” Killian turns his attention from the brush to an overly-worried Robin for a moment before returning his gaze to the thorns that he recognizes from twelve years ago, from the day his brother died and every nightmare he’s had since then, and he points to the brush with his knife before taking the last step towards it. 

“Because it’s—” he begins, but Emma reaches out and places her hand on his arm, suddenly overcome with the overwhelming feeling that something is about to go terribly wrong. 

"Pan," she whispers. "I can feel him."

“Careful, Captain,” a voice calls from behind them, and they all turn to see Pan. “Though I’m sure you recognize—” 

“Dreamshade,” Robin says, still trying to put the pieces of it together. 

The demon and Killian nod simultaneously. “Did you tell them that you’re not feeling too well, that you can feel the poison reaching your heart?” He doesn’t want to look at her, but he can’t keep his gaze from finding hers. He should have told her. He shouldn’t have hidden it from them — from her. “What if I get your heart rate up? What if I tell you that the plant has gotten more potent since the last time you stood on this peak? It took minutes to kill your brother, but it will take mere moments for you now.” 

He can’t let his terror show on his face, he knows that, but still takes a small step away from the brush. 

Pan smiles. “You can’t hide your fear from me, Jones.” He turns away from Killian towards the rest of the group around him. “None of you can. Neverland thrives on fear. I know what all of you fear the most. The island can sense it. It tells me your deepest fears, though most of you are mortal and fear petty things like death and isolation.”

He turns on his heel and points directly at Emma. “Except you. The island senses nothing about you. I’ve given you the hardest tasks, the Echo Caves and bringing back his past love, but you, Miss Swan, are still unreadable.” 

Killian wishes he were surprised. Ever since he first crawled through the doors to her hospital, he knew she was something special, something unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Fate or not, he was never surprised that he fell in love with her. He’s only surprised that he’s gotten this far without acting on it, save his words in the Caves and his confession earlier that day. Every moment since then, he has regretted what he said to her earlier, not letting her kiss him, with the doom of their current adventure hanging over them like a bad omen. Everything about her has surprised him from the very beginning, from her beauty to her powers, from their connection to the fact that she is seemingly unaffected by this bloody island. If he can make it out of this alive, he wants a future with her, with the most amazing, brilliant, and beautiful woman he has ever met. He wants a future, he allows himself to think for the first time. He wants to make it off this island, back to his ship and his home and a place where he can live a happy life with her beside him, even if it’s a life filled with war and violence. With her, anything is possible. 

And that includes beating Pan. Once and for all, he senses. Somehow he knows that their battle against him will bring the end to the island, an end to the life of a timeless demon. If they can get there. 

“So, what, Pan?” Emma asks, and when Killian turns to her again, she has pulled the pistol from her waist holster. “Is this where we battle you? Where we fight for a winner once and for all?” 

He steps forward, right into the middle of their half-circle. “Is that what you want, Miss Swan? Or — what if I offer you a compromise?” 

“No,” Emma replies, without even a moment’s hesitation.

But Killian surprises himself when he says, “Hear him out, Swan.”

“No!” She wishes she could know how David felt about all of this. Since their first meeting, she has needed his guidance, and has barely made a decision, let alone something as important as this, without talking to him about it. But when she looks at Killian, who simply shrugs, her face softens — her whole frame softens, her pistol drops. 

“That’s more like it,” Pan says with a smile. “Here’s what I offer you: I’ll clear the thorns and heal the pirate and the prince, let you leave with who you’ve picked up along the way, but you must choose the two of you that stay.” 

Emma’s eyes go wide, and she lifts her pistol again. “No. No way.” Away from the rest of the group, Milah and Wendy also shake their heads, not willing to make their new friends make that decision.

“Fine” Pan says, turning away from them to look at the brambles of Dreamshade sitting behind him.

Whether Pan expects it or not, this is the opening they are waiting for, and everything happens in the same moment: Emma fires a shot, just as Will throws one of the knives on his hip and Merlin raises his hands to bring smoke up around him. 

Emma's bullet grazes his arm as he flicks his other hand, sending Will's knife back towards him. It lodges in Will’s shoulder, and Belle is the fastest to act, reaches out to take Will’s hand and disappears in a cloud of golden smoke. Pan turns his attention towards Emma, glares at her as he raises his hand to stem the bleeding. 

Robin and Emma share a glance and fire simultaneously, serving as a distraction from Merlin, who is trying to wrangle a path through the brush. The brush reacts like a living entity, fighting against each one of the Merlin’s movements as it bends and waves towards him.  

Pan poofs to another location as Killian sheathes his knife and brings his rifle to his shoulder just as Graham quickly aims his rifle and fires. He senses the demon's movements and puts himself between Pan and Killian just as Emma raises her pistol, also moving towards Killian as he fires again and Pan deflects — but it finds another target when it hits Graham in the chest and knocks him to the ground. 

Merlin, successful with his tussle with the Dreamshade, rushes to Graham’s side, magic already shooting from his palms as he presses them against the injured chest, and Robin moves towards them. 

Milah rushes towards the action and pulls her knife from its sheath before turning towards Pan, who is pushing Emma and Killian towards the Dreamshade with his magic.  When Milah is inches from Pan he turns towards her, waves his hand in the air, and the knife disappears from her hand and reappears in Pan’s just in time for him to plunge it into her chest. “Oh, Milah,” he says, mock sadness in his voice, as she falls to the ground. Killian screams, trying to rush Pan, but he pushes back with his magic, powerful enough to knock both Killian and Emma off their feet and through the hole Merlin wrangled in the brush, right into the water beyond it. 

Killian feels it acting right away, as soon as it soaks through this clothing and reaches his skin. All of the legends and the research, and even Wendy just a few minutes before, said that the healing power of the water would come from drinking it, but something else is happening here. 

Something magical. 

It rejuvenates him, all of the energy of a perfectly warm shower on a cold day, lighting up the dark crevices inside of him that have been broken and hidden for so long. His skin tingles with a power unlike anything he has ever experienced, and he watches, eyes wide, as the scratches, scars, and bruises that cover his arms disappear. When he feels it reach his heart, it almost knocks the wind out of him, and he lifts his shirt just in time to watch the healing powers of the water reach the gash in his side, and the magical iridescence of the poison slowly disappears before the wound closes, leaves only a scar behind. He is aware of every movement within his body: the beating of his heart, yes, but the way his blood flows through his veins and the movement of his skin as it heals around the wound on his arm and the gash in his side. 

He turns his attention towards Emma, who has been watching him intently since they landed beside each other in the water. He's not ready for the tears in her eyes, her relieved, elated smile, the brightness of her eyes that has been muted since they first met, brought back to its full brilliance by watching him heal from wounds that, only hours before, had been deadly. 

"Enough!" Pan yells, raising his hands in front of him, and everything around them stops — the rushing of the water, the wind through the trees, and the movement of their friends on the other side of the bushes — but Pan's magic has no effect on Emma and Killian, hands joined as they stand in the waist-deep water. 

“You can do this, Swan,” he whispers, watching Pan's eyes widen in fear as he realizes that they are not affected by his magic. Something more than ever before flows through her with his touch. She wonders if it is from the water, or Killians newfound hope — or something more, something deeper than what she can imagine, older than the War and the Gale and older than the earth itself — and with the energy from Killian’s touch flowing through her she focuses all of her power into her hands, creating a bright ball of light that even Pan cannot deflect. 

It hits him square in the chest and he falls to the ground, releases the rest of their friends from his power, and, mouths agape, they watch as Pan changes before their eyes, aging from the young teenage body he was in, through young adult and adult and middle-aged into a wrinkled, withered old man, who takes his last gasping breath with Wendy standing above him. 

"The island dies with me," he chokes, and they barely have time to celebrate their victory before Pan's words become a reality. Everything around them starts to crumble, and Killian quickly fills his canteen with the healing waters before they begin to disappear. 

"Let's get out of here," Merlin says, reaching out to take the hands of his companions. "I've never moved this many people at the same time. Emma, maybe you can help?" 

"Just tell me what to do." 

"Close your eyes. Picture as much about where we left the Jolly as you can, not only the ship, but the beach and the water. Do you think you can do that?" 

They take their place beside Merlin, hands still clenched together, and she smiles at Killian as they join the circle. "Yeah, I can do that." 

Robin lifts Graham’s corpse over his shoulder, the last to join them as the earth under their feet begins to shake, threatening an earthquake. 

"Let's get out of here," Killian says, hoping that the faith he has in Emma is enough to get them back to the ship. 

But after what they just experienced, anything seems possible. 

TAGS:  @shireness-says​​ @cssns​ @kmomof4​​ @thisonesatellite​​  @teamhook​​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​​ @cocohook38​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @facesiousbutton82​​ @hollyethecurious​ @stahlop​ @tiganasummertree​​  @angellifedeath​​ @pepperpottss​ @mariakov81​ @scientificapricot​ @kday426​ @xarandomdreamx​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​ @xhookswenchx​ @nikkiemms @carpedzem​​ @superchocovian​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @snowbellewells​​ @courtorderedcake​ @captain-emmajones​ @killian-whump​ @officerrogers​​ @killianjonesownsmyheart1​ @captainkillianswanjones​​ – want to be added or removed? let me know!

[whump-town]

Books & Bonding

(There is no point to this, it’s just a drabble I wrote after finishing my Art History paper) Enjoy some bittersweet father son bonding 

Jack is laying upside on the couch, the way Hotch has probably told him a thousand times before not to. So that his ass is propped up where a back would normally go and his back is where a butt should be. He’s letting the blood rush to his head because it, direct quote, “help him think better”. At this current time and place, Hotch is too distracted trying not to burn cookies in the oven and keeping pasta stirred. So he doesn’t waste his breathe telling his son, again, not to sit like that. 

“You just don’t understand,” Jack sighs wistfully. 

Hotch has managed to raise one strange kid. He’s seventeen-years-old and spends more time ranting and raving about books than girls (or, hell, boys). Hotch doesn’t even know where they stand on that. They’ve discussed gender and sex, in more of a book sort of way. Jack had gone on about chosen expression differing from biological traits and Hotch can’t even remember why that was. He just knows what followed it was The Hunger Games sequels because that had prompted a discussion on riots and Hotch’s personal beliefs on the government.

There’s never a dull moment.

Pausing in his pasta stirring, Hotch takes a moment to correctly process the rant he’s just been on the receiving end of. Rubbing his palm into his eye, he wonders if it would be simpler to talk about gender expression again. At least then he knew what to say. 

Now they’re… debating, what? Identities? 

Raising his son around the team might have been a bit of a mistake. Jack seems to consume the parts of the team that Hotch has always struggled with the most. Reid’s quickly devolving, circling rants about anything and nothing at all. Emily’s obsession with books that require a strange and open mind to the natural progression of the world. Fucking woodwork from Morgan. Where does that even come from?

Humming to himself, he collects what he thinks is a good response. “The point,” he asks, glancing towards the living room. Waiting for Jack to pop up and he does, resting his chin on the cushion as he watches his father. “The point is that there is a danger in being anyone but yourself, yes?” 

Jack nods, “essentially.”

Hotch hums, nodding his head. He might be able to remember the title of the book, Jack probably mentioned at some point, he does understand Vonnegut. Emily got Jack a collection of his work for Christmas last year after the two made an entire day of picking apart Margret Atwood’s “Handmaid’s Tale”. Of course, he’d also read the book but it was far more interesting to sit back and observe the two of them. 

“What does that mean for you?” Hotch asks. He means it. 

It seems to do the trick. To scratch whatever itch Jack wasn’t finding on his own. He deflates, sinking as he thinks about it. 

Seventeen-years. That’s how long it’s taken for Hotch to realize he’s a better father than he’d thought. Better than he could have ever imagined. He’d been terrified when he’d first been handed Jack. Shaking, the nurses had taunted him for that. He’s a federal agent who was in a national news making explosion, Boston, and he’s afraid of a newborn baby that weighs six pounds and some change. 

But he wasn’t afraid of Jack. He was afraid of those eyes looking back at him. The same eyes as his and the same eyes as his father. 

He and Jack don’t have a complicated relationship, not the one that plays out so tauntingly on the television in seemingly every movie. Not once, has he ever raised his voice or, God-forbid, even his hand. And Jack is pretty normal considering. Just a standard kid making his weigh through the world and the best part is-- 

he tears up a little just standing here thinking about it-- Jack always comes home. 

Hotch never had a home. 

A dad. 

“I don’t know who I am.”

Hotch blinks quickly, shaking his head. He’s not expecting that. 

Jack has moved from the couch, now aimlessly walking circles in the kitchen. He’s barefoot and in a sweatshirt, Hotch knows he stole from his closet. He’s worn the knees out of his jeans and the bottoms are rolled up. They’re thrifted and his favorite. 

The melancholy hits Hotch right in the chest. That stupid sweatshirt. He’d hid it in his closet because he can’t bear to part with it but he can’t stand to look at it. Haley used to wear it far more than he ever did. 

For every part of Haley left in their son-- the sandy blond hair, love for complicated books, and pacing that has always driven Hotch mad-- there are pieces of Hotch as well. The lanky body and hair that can only be contained with an unGodly amount of gel and a skilled hand. 

Where does Hotch even begin to explain the in and outs of identity? That this half-way through puberty child of his is built out of ancient love. The kind not meant to last but hurt. That it’s never as simple as  “I am”, it is everything. It’s not the sum of a whole. There is nothing set in place and Jack will change and change again before he even realizes it. He’ll hate parts and cling to others desperately but there will never be an answer. Yet, every guess he’ll come up with will be right. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Hotch assures him softly. This will make one hell of a conversation to have with Dave some time but for right now, it’s… complicated and he doesn’t have an answer. “You’ll figure it out,” Hotch affirms with enough confidence that they both buy it. Hotch doesn’t doubt for a second that his off the walls bookworm of a child will come to understand who he is. Today’s just not the day and that’s understandable. “For now, go pick a movie and I’ll bring you some macaroni, alright?”

Jack looks like he wants to push that. He doesn’t. A part of can rationalizes that his father doesn’t know the answer either and… A pang of sadness and a bit of fear hits his chest, his dad is tired. Too tired for the kind of long-winded conversation that Jack’s brought into play. 

It’s a strange fear that he’s carried his entire life. Mortality is a hell of a thing to become aware of. 

Jack curls up on the couch, he’s going to milk the hell out of movie night. Eating dinner on the couch is a rare gift and he’s excited by the thought of breaking a rule… sort of. 

“This the book,” Hotch asks two bowls in hand but stopped to bend and scowl at the book cover on the coffee table. 

Jack nods his head, taking his bowl and freeing one of Hotch’s hand so that he can pick the book up and examine it. “You can read it,” he offers, scoping too hot macaroni straight into his mouth. As one does, he proceeds to sit with his mouth open and look obscene as his mouth burns. He then follows it by another mouthful, as if that one will have magically cooled down. 

Hotch puts it back down and takes note of the title. He’ll read it and then he’ll ask Emily about it. He settles down on the couch like he’s got any intent on watching this movie. In reality, he’s going to eat maybe half of his dinner and fall asleep before the rising action of the movie can even be established. 

“What’re we watching?”

Jack smirks and hits play, “gonna be honest, no idea. It has Keira Knightley in it so that was the appeal.” He glances over at Hotch, knowing that his father has no idea who the actress in mind is but he won’t ask. Not for reasons guided by ego but because it won’t matter.

By the time she comes on screen, Hotch is asleep.

Without comment, Jack pulls the throw blanket behind them down. He takes the bowl out of Hotch’s hands, setting on the coffee table, and covers Hotch up. With a sigh, he lays his head down on his father’s thigh. 

Hotch wakes just enough to realize what’s happening and wraps his arm around Jack’s chest, keeping him close. 

Knees pulled to his chest, Jack finds himself falling asleep too. For a moment, tears sting his eyes as he realizes that his dad is never going to carry him to bed again. He’ll never fall asleep on the couch and wake up half-wrangled up in his dad’s arms like a ragdoll too tired to protest but content beyond means. 

He just wishes he could go back and appreciate that one last time.

(the book in question is Kurt Vonnegut’s Mother Night and it’s my favorite book of his)

[goldenraeofsun]

life is just a classroom

A 6k addition to this verse with Teacher!Cas and Teacher!Dean

Jody has never seen her staff with their heads so far up their own asses. They get one reasonably attractive new hire, and everyone is acting more like gossiping, horny teenagers than sane, I-am-responsible-for-multiple-children, teachers. Luckily, Jody’s the principal and expert in wrangling children and adults of all maturity levels.

But this, as Bobby used to say, is too early for this shit.

It’s 7:00 am, and if Jody has to hear one more word about Castiel Novak and his brooding stare and baby blue eyes, she’s going to dump her coffee all over Daphne Allen’s head. It’s not like the Teachers Lounge hasn’t seen more than its fair share of spilled coffee. The brown-ish grey-ish carpet is more for utility than aesthetics, and is probably older than Jody herself.

“I’ve been trying to find out more about him, but he’s so reserved,” Daphne is saying. She sighs. “I’ve always been a sucker for the strong, silent types.”

Jody rolls her eyes and adds more sugar to her coffee.

“I think he mentioned he was actually a student here,” Kelly says, leaning in conspiratorially, “the same year as Dean.”

“No way,” Daphne breathes.

Jody dumps in more sugar.

“Has Dean mentioned anything about him? Is he single?”

For Christ’s sake. It’s the second day of school - Jody is very confident her teachers have better things to do than cross boundaries with new colleagues.

Daphne frowns. “No, he hasn’t. But Castiel definitely doesn’t wear a ring.”

Kelly rolls her eyes. “Would I even be talking about him if I thought he was married?”

Jody clears her throat, saying loudly, “Well, I’d better get back to work. Morning announcements will start soon.”

Both Kelly and Daphne jump guiltily.

Pleased, Jody strides out of the Teachers Lounge, nearly running into Donna. “Here,” she says, pressing the coffee into her hands. “I put too much sugar in it anyway.”

“Oh, hey, thanks Jody-o!” Donna beams.

Jody jerks her head towards Daphne and Kelly, heads ducked together and clearly already back to it. “Watch out for ‘em. They’ll get you sucked in gossiping about the new hire.”

“That Castiel?” Donna asks, her eyes lighting up. “He’s such an angel.”

“Not you too,” Jody grumbles as she stalks out. She has a school to run.

* * *

“Bonne journée, tout le monde.” Castiel waves his students out. “Etudiez bien pour le quiz la semaine prochaine! Si vous avez besoin d’aide, n'hésitez pas à venir me voir.”  

Daphne lets the juniors stream past her, steels herself, and knocks on the door.

“Oui?” he asks without looking up.

Daphne swallows nervously. “Castiel?”

Castiel straightens, and holy hell, those eyes are so blue. “Hello,” he says, “I’m sorry, I thought you were a student.”

“No worries at all,” Daphne says with tittering laugh. “I was just wondering if you wanted to get a drink?”

“A drink?” Castiel echoes.

“To celebrate the end of the first week?” Daphne adds. “Kelly, Aaron, and I have a little tradition.”

“I see,” Castiel says, sounding taken aback. He fiddles with the strap of his bag before slinging it over his shoulder.

As the seconds drag on without a response, Daphne frowns. Is he going to refuse? Daphne had told Kelly this was a stupid plan -

“Can I bring Dean?” he asks.

Daphne blinks. “Dean? Yes, of course,” she says, mentally recalibrating her assessment of Edlund High's newest Latin/French teacher. He and Dean must be closer than she had assumed from their interactions in the Language Office. Maybe Castiel is less the stoically reserved type and more the shy, socially awkward wallflower. Her heart melts, so she adds, “the more the merrier.”

“Wonderful,” Castiel says, smiling. “What time?”

“We were thinking of leaving in like an hour,” Daphne says, “but you can also meet us there - Fizzle’s Folly? It’s on Water Street.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows at the name.

Daphne giggles. “Garth’s wife - have you met Garth? He teaches Chem - owns it. There’s a whole story there, but I can tell you later, if you like.”

Castiel smiles. “I’d like that, thank you.” He hefts his shoulder bag higher. “I grew up here, but it’s been a number of years since I spent a long time in this school district. I don’t remember a Fizzle’s Folly.”

“It used to be called Fenris,” Daphne says as they walk out.

Castiel’s brow furrows. “Wasn’t that a biker bar?”

“Yup, that’s the one,” Daphne says, nodding to Krissy Chambers and her friend Josephine as they pass by. “It underwent a little bit of a makeover when Garth and Bess took over.”

“So no bikers?”

“Not unless you count Garth,” Daphne says, grinning, as she pushes open the door to the Language Office. “He owns a motorcycle, if you can believe - oh, hey, Dean.”

Dean glances up from his desk at Daphne’s acknowledgement. “Hey,” he says slowly, his eyes flicking from Castiel to Daphne and back again. “What’s up?”

“Daphne invited me out for drinks,” Castiel says as Dean’s eyebrows rise, “Would you like to come?”

Dean’s mouth purses. “Wouldn’t want to be an imposition.”

“I already asked,” Castiel says as Daphne nods once. 

And maybe in a week, once Daphne and Castiel know each other better, they can get drinks alone together. Or Kelly can get drinks alone with him. Daphne won’t fight Kelly for him, and Kelly won’t fight her. He’s not a piece of meat, as Kelly is all too fond of reminding if they go too far after too many margaritas. 

After a beat, Dean says in a funny voice, “Okay then.”

Daphne walks around the both of them to get to her desk. “Aaron’s going to be there, if that matters,” she says without looking up.

“Aaron?” Castiel asks curiously.

“History teacher,” Dean says at the same time that Daphne provides, “Dean’s ex.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose as Castiel turns to him.

“Not an ex,” Dean grumbles. “We had a thing. Briefly. Years ago. It was before-” he coughs, “anyway.”

“I see,” Castiel deadpans.

Daphne frowns, meeting Castiel’s gaze over Dean’s head. “We are a LGBTQ friendly school,” she says sharply. “Dean runs the Gay-Straight-Alliance. If you have any… issues with that, I’d recommend talking to Jody before we leave.”

Dean looks oddly touched. “Thanks, Daph.”

Castiel just shakes his head. “I’m not homophobic. Dean can attest to that.”

“He had a boyfriend in high school,” Dean says with a grin.

Daphne’s face heats up embarrassingly quickly. “Ah - good for you.”

It’s not the end of the world. He could be bi, like Dean.

* * *

Aaron’s glad Dean and Castiel are here, if just to steer the conversation away from all the boy talk. He always has a good time with Kelly and Daphne, but, damn, they can really fixate. Lately, all they’ve been focusing on is Castiel, which, Aaron can kind of get behind - even though, obviously, Dean is more his type.

Thankfully they’ve cooled it with Castiel actually in the room with them.

Poor dude looks in over his head by the time they’re all sipping their second round of drinks. That’s probably why, when Aaron offers to get refills and snacks, Castiel jumps up to assist, quick on his heels. 

Daphne and Kelly’s eyes follow Castiel’s ass to the bar. Sometimes they really are shameless.

“You doing okay?” Aaron asks after he’s flagged down the bartender. 

“Oh yes,” Castiel says, bobbing his head in a nod. “It’s just… I don’t get out often.”

“I know they can be a bit much,” Aaron says, jerking his head back at their table. “If you want them to cool it with the questions, just say so.”

“I don’t mind.”

Aaron makes a face but doesn’t comment further. It’s Castiel’s funeral if he wants to keep playing into Kelly and Daphne’s hands like silly putty. Aaron warned the guy. He did his job to uphold bros before hos - even if Castiel is barely a bro and Aaron co-ran Kelly's campaign for City Council and let her cry into his shoulder when she lost, and he went to church with Daphne for a couple weeks because she knew her abusive ex-boyfriend was going to be there. 

Mom practically had a heart attack when she heard about the Church thing through the grapevine, which stunned Aaron to no end because, of all his siblings, he was the only one who actually followed up on his threat to get kicked out of Hebrew school. Organized religion has never been his thing, anyway. Two Sundays with Kelly sandwiching Daphne in the pews wasn’t going to change that.

Moreover, it’s not like Aaron's never leaned on the girls for help. Daphne called her second-cousin, the cardiologist, to give a third-opinion on Dad's diagnosis. Kelly let Aaron sleep on her couch for a month because she lived across the street from the hospital. They listened to him whine about his unrequited thing for Dean Winchester when everything else in his life was going to hell. Speaking of-

“So you know Dean pretty well?” Aaron asks casually.

Castiel freezes.

“You keep staring at him,” Aaron says.

“I -”

“Relax,” Aaron says as he leans back against the bar. “Been there.”

Castiel purses his lips. “Daphne did mention you were… involved.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Aaron says, since Daphne could’ve been a lot more damning in her assessment. “We slept together a couple of times. I was feeling it - he wasn’t - and that was the end of that.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, looking relieved. He glances at Aaron out of the corner of his eye. “And do you still… like him?”

Aaron snorts. “I mean, we’re not in middle school. It’s a little more complicated.”

Castiel’s brows draw together in a forbidding frown.

“I was just gonna say,” Aaron supplies quickly, “do I still think he’s hot? Yes, I have eyes. Do I want to marry him and push my mother over the edge by marrying a guy and a goy? Not anymore.”

Castiel settles back down, and Aaron makes a mental note not to piss him off anytime soon. “A word of advice?” he says as he turns back around to grab their drinks, “Don’t insult his car - or Led Zeppelin - or his brother.”

Surprised, Castiel takes a moment before laughing. “Or pie.”

“No quicker way to get your name on Dean Winchester’s shit list,” Aaron agrees. He surveys Castiel again. “So you know him pretty well already?”

Castiel shrugs. “We went to high school together.”

“Kelly mentioned,” Aaron says. “What was he like?”

“Dean?”

“No, Gary Busey,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes, “of course Dean.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Very similar to how he is now,” he says, which doesn’t tell Aaron much. “Charming. Caring. Intelligent in the strangest of ways.” Castiel pauses. “Handsome.”

“Yeah, that does sound like him,” Aaron agrees. He’s been on the receiving end of Dean’s charm offensive once or twice. It’s always left his head spinning.

Interrupting his train of thought, “Hey!” Dean calls shamelessly across the bar. “What are you two alte kakers up to?”

Aaron waves him off, unable to hide his smile at Dean’s casual Yiddish. He only picked up two or three words from Aaron, back when Aaron dove head-first into his ill-advised thing with Dean so he didn’t have to think about all the other shit going on in his life. “Here, grab the sides will you?” Aaron asks Castiel. “I think we’ve left Dean alone with them for long enough.”

Castiel dutifully picks up the mozzarella sticks and fries as Aaron double-checks his tray of glasses won’t topple over.

“Watch who you’re calling old men,” Aaron tells Dean as he sets the drinks down at their table.

“You were just gabbing up there,” Dean protests, reaching for his beer, “leaving these two lovely ladies with only little old me for company.”

Castiel snorts as Daphne rolls her eyes above the rim of her drink.

“Then you should’ve gone with yentas ,” Aaron says as he sits down.

“Like Barbra Streisand?” Dean eyes them both up and down. “Can’t say I see the resemblance.”

Aaron runs a hand down his face. “How do you know Barbra Streisand and not what yenta means?”

“Sammy made me watch it,” Dean says into his beer.

Aaron laughs. “Sure.”

“Hey, Castiel,” Daphne interrupts, “Dean was telling us the funniest story about you from way back-”

Castiel shoots Aaron a desperate look, but Aaron just grabs a mozzarella stick and settles in. Let the girls have their fun. 

* * *

“So, Castiel, are you seeing anyone?” Kelly asks after finishing her third whiskey sour. Nine months of sobriety/pregnancy had shot her tolerance to nothing. And, sure, Jack is almost four now, but Kelly still has a hard time knowing when to call it quits.

Whatever. She doesn’t regret the question. It’s been plaguing her and Daphne - and by extension Aaron because he had to listen to them - for a whole goddamn week.

Daphne’s eyes go wide.

Off to the side, Aaron slaps his hand to his forehead.

Dean turns to Castiel, his gaze piercing.

Castiel goes bright red. It’s a good color on him. Brings out the blue in his eyes. “I - well, that is to say - I am not - it’s complicated?” he fumbles.

Dean snorts as he picks up his beer to take a long pull.

Kelly frowns. “It’s complicated?” she repeats, disappointed. “How?”

“I am not comfortable discussing my personal life with colleagues,” Castiel says stiltedly.

Dean thumps him on the back. “Good move,” he says, “these three are the worst gossips in the school.”

“Hey!” Kelly protests automatically although Dean is, unfortunately, right. But it’s not her fault everyone else on staff at Edlund High doesn’t know how to have a good time.

Daphne knocks back her cosmo murderously.

Aaron shrugs.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Dean adds, “definitely has its uses. Just something for the newbie to know, right, Cas?”

“Of course,” Castiel says, sounding like he doesn’t know what exactly he’s agreeing to. 

What a cutie. Kelly grins as she leans in over the table. “You want to know which students are the worst?”

Dean frowns. “Come on, there’s no need to dunk on minors.”

“Who’s dunking?” Kelly asks innocently. “I was going to warn him about Max Banes.”

“Oh, yeah, you should know about him, Cas,” Dean says with a laugh. “Kid’s a horndog. Gives my libido a run for my money.”

Castiel blinks. “Does he… pursue teachers?”

Daphne pats his hand. “Not yet. These three think it’s only a matter of time.”

“Oh,” Cas says, “That was very frowned upon at Carver Preparatory.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “It’s frowned on here too, asshole. If he makes any… advances, just let Jody know. She and Donna - the guidance counselor - can handle it.”

“If I was going to put my psych degree to good use,” Daphne adds, “I would read into his lack of father figure. Their mom’s great, but Max doesn’t have a lot of male role models in his life.”

Kelly scowls.

Dean huffs into his beer. “Single parents have it rough, though.”

“Of course they do,” Daphne says with a significant look at Kelly. “Nobody’s saying they don’t.”

“I was raised by a single dad,” Dean protests, “and he raised me and my brother right.” He holds up a hand, and Castiel snaps his mouth shut before Kelly had even noticed it opening in the first place. “Don’t you start. I know you have thoughts about Dad, but that’s a conversation for another day.”

Kelly eyes them both curiously, but before she can ask, Aaron interrupts, “Did you guys hear about Krissy and Aidan? I think they are finally going to-”

“No way!” Daphne says, shaking her head. “She’s clueless. And he’s inept. The worst combination.”

“I believe in them,” Kelly announces. “What’d you hear, Aaron?”

As Aaron launches into the latest installment of their favorite will-they won’t-they senior couple, Kelly can finally appreciate the lazy smile Castiel wears as he settles in to listen. Maybe Aaron was right, and she and Daphne came on a little strong.

Whatever. No regrets. She wouldn’t trade that valuable intel from Castiel for anything. 

* * *

That was Kelly’s last night out for a solid month. Every other weekend, her usual babysitter called in sick or said she was busy. And usually Kelly would be happy to spend more time with her son, but come on. A month with no breaks? 

Christ, she’s such a bad mom.

Times like this don’t help.

“Jack?” Kelly calls, spinning around in the department store. Panic races through her veins. “Jack!”

She had turned her back for one minute to grab a set of towels from the highest shelf, and by the time she turned around, Jack was gone. She scans the surrounding racks of linens, her eyes peeled for any sign of Jack’s Spider-Man shirt. Heart beating erratically, she pushes her shopping cart back towards the bedding aisle - Jack had been enamored with a set of hideous, bright orange sheets, and Kelly had only gotten him away by bribing him with a piece of nougat.

“Jack!” she shouts again, going a bit red in the face as people turn to stare. 

“Kelly?” 

Shit. How could she miss Dean Winchester standing right in front of her?

“Dean!” Kelly greets, pasting on a fake smile as she cranes her neck around to scan the aisles behind him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It was recently brought to my attention I needed a bathmat,” Dean grumbles, “and a shower curtain that doesn’t have the Scooby Gang on it.”

Kelly laughs, a tad hysterically. “Probably. I - well, nice running into you. I need to go - my son’s wandered off, and I need to find him because I am not a terrible mother.”

But instead of standing to the side, Dean adopts a pained expression. “He’s four, right?”

Kelly blinks. “Yes.”

Dean jerks his head for Kelly to follow. “I think I know where he is,” Dean says griml

Bemused, Kelly pushes her cart after Dean, back to the display beds. Her eyes zero in on the orange eye-sore, currently occupied by a jumping toddler. A dark-haired man perches on one edge with his back to them, apparently trying to communicate with Kelly’s wayward son.

She all but sprints forward, nearly bumping her shopping cart into several bed frames. “Jack!” she says loudly, and Jack stops at once. 

“Mama!” he calls back delightedly.

“What are you doing?”

“Jumping.”

Kelly resists the urge to facepalm. “What did I tell you about wandering off? Or talking to stran-” She backtracks, finally focusing on the man. “Oh, hi, Castiel.”

“Hello, Kelly,” Castiel says, his deep voice sending a frisson down her spine like it always does.

“You know Mama?” Jack asks, looking from Kelly to Castiel and back again.

“We work together,” Castiel explains.

“This is Castiel,” Kelly introduces, and Jack wastes no time in chirping out, “Nice to meet you Castiel!’ 

Castiel sticks out his hand like he’s greeting the President instead of Kelly’s four-year-old son. “You as well, Jack.”

“What’re you doing here?” Kelly asks as Jack gives Castiel’s hand a theatrical shake. 

Castiel’s brow furrows. “Purchasing home goods?” He gets to his feet. “I was searching for a suitable bathmat when I found Jack.”

“A bathmat,” Kelly echoes, whirling in place to see a red-faced Dean a few paces away, apparently enthralled by a set of outrageously mundane pillows.

“Yes?” Castiel confirms, following her gaze and blushing furiously. “Ah, hello, Dean. I - I didn’t see you there?”

Dean throws his hands in the air, giving up on all pretenses. “You’re impossible,” he says to Castiel.

“You’re buying a bathmat together?” Kelly asks, confused.

“Dean doesn’t have one,” Castiel says promptly. 

“I didn’t need one until-” Dean closes his mouth with a snap.

Kelly stares at the pair of them. “Do you two live together?” she demands.

Castiel opens his mouth, but no words come out.

Kelly turns to Dean, who is rapidly scanning for the exits.

“Are you the ‘it’s complicated’?” she asks curiously, only looking away as Jack pats her knee determinedly, his face hopeful.

“Up?” he asks.

Kelly sighs and hefts him into her arms. “You’re getting too big for this.”

“Am not,” Jack mumbles into her shoulder.

Kelly presses a kiss to his forehead and turns back to Castiel and Dean, who look more like two students caught passing notes than fully grown men. “Well?”

Dean shares a loaded glance with Castiel, and Kelly has no idea how she missed the whole couple thing. Eventually, he says, “After two f-” he glances at Jack, “-friggin’ years, he finally got sick of cold feet in my bathroom.”

“Two years,” Kelly gapes.

Castiel sighs. “Three.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t start sleeping over at-”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupts in a growl.

Dean rubs the back of his neck. He coughs. “Anyway,” he says, “Yes, we’re dating. No, it’s not really that complicated. Cas just doesn’t like to talk about it at work.”

“Hm,” Kelly says neutrally.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t spread it around,” Castiel says as Dean snorts derisively.

“Hey,” Kelly says, defensive, “I can do that.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “You can?”

“Sure, if you ask, Jesus,” Kelly says, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a monster.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says gratefully.

Kelly grins. “But if I can’t spread it around, Daphne’s still going to go after him like he’s a prize heifer at a state fair.”

Castiel squints at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “She was pursuing me?” 

Dean guffaws. “Don’t ever change, man.” He claps him on the back while turning back to Kelly. “We can handle Daphne. Don’t worry.”

“Whatever, boys,” Kelly says as she pushes her cart back towards the linens, “it’s your funeral.” She hefts Jack higher in her arms. “Say goodbye to Dean and Castiel, Jack.” As Jack waves goodbye, she calls, “See you Monday!”

Sure, she’s a little disappointed Castiel is clearly off the dating market. But, bonus, she has blackmail material on not one, but two Edlund faculty members, and possibly a pinch-hitter babysitter waiting to happen. Not bad for a shopping trip with a four-year-old in tow.

* * *

Donna’s surprise party at Fizzle’s Folly is well underway by the time Aaron extricates himself from a lively discussion with his Head of Department and Rowena MacLeod, Edlund's chemistry teacher. Aaron will never, ever miss an opportunity to talk to a drunk Eleanor Visyak, and Rowena turned out to be surprisingly knowledgeable about 17th century English politics.

Still, he’s taken all the history talk he can stand, especially after teaching it for four hours to a bunch of high schoolers with varying degrees of interest. 

He finds Daphne in one of the far booths, tucked away with Castiel and Dean, surprise, surprise. After snagging another beer at the bar, he slides in next to Daphne. “What’s up?” he asks the three of them.

“Hey,” Dean greets with a toast of his glass.

“Hello, Aaron.”

“Budge up, you’re taking like three quarters of the seat,” Daphne complains.

“Daph was just telling us about her plans to do a joint project between GSA and the Amnesty International club,” Dean says. “Cas says he’ll come to GSA next week.”

“Yeah?” Aaron asks as Castiel nods in confirmation. “That’s great! I’d go check it out, but the Debate club meets at the same time.”

Castiel frowns. “Maybe I should run a club? Daphne has Amnesty International, Dean runs GSA, and you have Debate.”

“You can always ask Jody about forming a new one in January,” Aaron says. “Honestly, the hardest part’ll be finding a time to meet. Don’t go for afterschool Thursdays, or Benny will kick your ass.”

“Why?”

“He has his cooking club,” Dean says with a grin. “And, like, half the student body goes. I sometimes go and help out too, if he needs extra hands.”

“You’ll go if he’s making pie,” Aaron corrects.

“It’s for the kids!” Dean protests over Castiel’s chuckles. “Benny’s got a lot of skills, but he has a lot to learn when it comes to pie. The kids need to know how to make a good pie.”

“If only to feed you later,” Aaron mutters.

“You’ll also want to avoid Tuesdays afterschool,” Daphne tells Castiel. “Jo’s self-defense club meets then, and it’s also got a large following.”

“Yeah, all the girls who wanna be like Jo sign up, and all the boys who want to see Jo all sweaty show up with semis,” Dean says with a shudder of revulsion.

Aaron kicks him under the table. “That’s sexist. How are you forgetting all the lesbians?”

“Ah, yes, can’t forget the lesbians,” Dean agrees sagely.

“Does this school have Model UN?” Castiel asks. “I was looking to set up a chapter at Carver before I switched positions.”

“No, we don’t,” Daphne says eagerly. “That’s an excellent idea.”

Dean drains the dregs of his beer. “I’m gonna get another, Cas? Daph? A-Game?”

Aaron rolls his eyes at the nickname. “I’m good,” he says, holding up his three-quarters full glass.

“Another cosmo, please?” Daphne asks.

“Sure.” Dean salutes.

“I’ll go with you,” Castiel says as Daphne’s face falls. “I need to stretch my legs.”

They leave, heads already bent together to hear each other over the dull roar of the party. “They seem close,” Aaron says, jerking his head.

Daphne sighs. “Yeah, they do,” she says morosely. She twirls her empty glass between her fingers. “Kelly’s given up on him. I think you might be right - he definitely has a thing for Dean.”

Aaron sips his beer. “I don’t blame him.”

“Of course you don’t,” Daphne says with a small grin, lightly kicking him under the table.

Before Aaron can think of anything else to say, Kelly appears over Daphne’s shoulder, her face flushed as it always gets when she drinks too much red wine. She slides into the side of the booth vacated by Dean and Castiel. “Some party, right? Did you see Garth doing shots?”

“No,” Daphne says, nose wrinkling. “And I don’t want to. I’ll stay here, out of the splash zone, thanks.”

Kelly giggles. “Why d’you think I’m over here instead of egging him on like Jo and Charlie.”

By the time Aaron finishes off the rest of his beer, Daphne’s still one cosmo short, and it’s been at least twenty minutes since he saw Dean and Castiel.

“Hey, I’ll go check up on that drink you’re waiting for,” Aaron says, getting to his feet.

“You sure?” Daphne asks, blinking hazily up at him. And okay, it’s probably good she had a breather between rounds.

“Yeah,” Aaron says, jerking his head towards the bar. “I need to piss anyway.”

“Gross,” Daphne says, nose wrinkling.

Kelly giggles, “If you think a little pee is gross, you don’t want to hear what Jack got up to with-”

Daphne actually places both hands over her ears and goes, “Na, na, na.”

Aaron leaves the pair of them laughing, with Kelly trying to pry Daphne’s hands away and Daphne getting louder with each tug.

He makes his way through the thinning crowd, waving to Eleanor when he spots her getting ready to leave and nodding to Charlie as she adjusts the empty shot glasses in front of her, Jo, and an impossibly red-faced Garth.

Aaron slides between the thinning crowd to duck out into the hallway leading to the bathrooms. As he gets closer to the men’s room, he slows. There are sounds coming from behind the door. Not like the pained bathroom sounds like Great Aunt Rachel gets after too much dairy. Porn sounds.

Aaron, torn between finding out who’s getting down and dirty at Donna’s surprise party, and getting Kelly and Daphne so they can witness the big reveal with him, is still rooted to the spot as the door bursts open and Castiel and Dean stumble out.

Cas’s hair is a bird’s nest of bedhead that would probably drop Daphne’s panties in a heartbeat. Dean’s cheeks are flushed, and Aaron definitely recognizes his immediate post-orgasm face.

“Fuck,” Dean swears as he finds his footing. He stares at Aaron, and Aaron stares right back.

“Aaron,” Castiel says breathlessly, temporarily drawing his attention. “You’re… here.”

“I had to pee,” Aaron says lamely.

“Oh, well, it’s all yours then,” Dean says, blushing to the roots of his hair as he gestures to the now available men’s room.

“Fuck no.” Aaron automatically recoils. There’s no way he’s touching any surface in that bathroom until it’s been scrubbed and bleached. He has some goddamn standards. He’d rather pee in the alley out back.

They linger awkwardly until Aaron speaks. He eyes the pair of them, his gaze ping-ponging back and forth. “So… you two are finally together?”

“Finally?” Dean echoes.

“Uh yeah,” Aaron says, confused. “Castiel clearly has a huge thing for you. Not to spill the beans or anything.”

A beat.

Dean cracks up.

Aaron, almost offended on Castiel’s behalf, opens his mouth as he catches sight of Castiel’s face, lips pressed tight together like he’s trying not to laugh. “You knew?”

Castiel slowly shakes his head as Dean leans on him for support, gasping for air. “Oh my god, Cas, that’s fucking embarrassing. D’you have a crush on me?”

“Shut up, Dean,” Castiel grumbles, shoving him off. To Aaron he says, “We’ve been dating for three years. He’s known about my feelings for a while now.”

“Oh,” Aaron says, drawing the syllable out as Dean composes himself.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, wiping at his eyes, “I thought I was going to give it all away, but turns out you’re just as obvious as you were in high school.”

Castiel sighs. “We were trying to not spread our relationship around.”

“Cas wanted to get settled in before people started saying he was my trophy husband,” Dean says with a wink.

Horror seizes Aaron. ��You’re not married, are you?” he blurts. He glances down at their hands - no rings - and he would never forgive himself for missing something that obvious.

“No,” Castiel shakes his head, “we are only dating for now.”

“Not yet.”

Castiel turns to Dean in surprise, and Aaron really doesn’t need to be here for that conversation. “Oh-kay,” he says, sidling around them, “I still gotta,” he jerks his head towards the men’s room. 

“Right!” Dean says, grinning. “We should get back to the party. Say hi to Donna.”

Aaron makes his exit, sighing in relief as the door closes behind him. He should be fine if he doesn’t touch anything. Or look at any shiny surfaces too closely. Once upon a time, he lived with a dozen Alpha Epsilon Pi brothers. He can do this.

* * *

Daphne has had it up to here with her juniors. Yes, Homecoming is this weekend. No, their essays aren’t due until next week, but that doesn’t excuse their behavior this Friday afternoon. Nobody wants to be in class at a quarter to three. High school juniors don’t. Daphne sure as hell doesn’t. They can’t cut her a little slack?

When the bell finally rings, Daphne sighs in relief. She dismisses her class with a terse, “Aufiderzein.”

She gathers her files together, grumbling to herself about stupid staff meetings on Friday. It’s like Jody wants them to surreptitiously play games on their phones and text each other when she’s looking the other way or yelling at Rowena for blowing up the Chemistry Lab again. 

At least Benny always brings snacks from Thursday’s Cooking Club. 

Daphne glances at her watch. Jody gives them a half-hour to get their affairs in order, but Daphne doesn’t mind staking out her seat in the Teachers Lounge early. She can save spots for Kelly and Aaron and stake out the precious few non-wobbly chairs.

She stops by the Language Office, pleasantly surprised to find it empty. No Dean, Kelly, or Castiel in sight. Daphne quickly gathers her freshmen pop quizzes to grade this weekend and her copy of Die Verwandlung.

She rounds the final corner before the Teachers Lounge and stops dead. Because Aaron and Kelly are hovering outside the door and spying through the slim glass pane. Without her.

“What’s going on?” Daphne asks curiously.

“Ah!” Kelly whirls around, clutching her heart.

“Daphne!” Aaron says loudly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Saving us a seat for the meeting?” Daphne says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Like I do every month?”

Aaron and Kelly share a loaded look. Aaron is the first one to speak, “I think we’re good this time.”

“Why?” Daphne asks, stepping closer. She frowns as Kelly and Aaron automatically stand shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking her view of the narrow window.

“Students are in there,” Aaron blurts.

“Puking,” Kelly adds.

Daphne doesn’t believe them for a second. “And you’re just standing there watching it happen?”

“Schadenfreude?” Aaron tries. “It’s the mean ones. You know. The kids we don't like.”

Daphne rolls her eyes, pushing them aside and standing on her tiptoes to see.

“We tried,” Aaron grumbles to her right.

“They can’t fault us for that,” Kelly says to her left.

At first, it looks like the Teachers Lounge is empty. Most seats are unoccupied, and nobody’s loitering by the coffee machine. One of the tables is strewn with three mostly-empty mini pie tins. Cherry, by the color. Movement catches her eye, and, woah how did she miss that?

“No way,” she breathes, glancing at Aaron and Kelly for confirmation.

Aaron scuffing his shoes against the floor, nods sheepishly.

“They made me promise not to tell,” Kelly says ruefully, lips pursing. 

“Dean and Castiel?” Daphne gasps, squinting to better see Edlund High’s newest hire and favorite English teacher (no offense, Kelly) getting at it on the lumpy couch in the back that no one sat on because of this very reason.

She rounds on them. “You knew?” she hisses.

Kelly huffs an impatient sigh, blowing a few brown strands of hair out of her face. “I ran into them shopping together a few weeks ago.”

Aaron grimaces. “I nearly walked in on them having sex in the bathroom at Donna’s surprise party last weekend.”

Daphne blinks at the pair of them, hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kelly opens her mouth but no words come out.

“This is the first guy since Mark you showed an interest in,” Aaron rushes to say.

“We didn’t want to ruin it,” Kelly says.

Daphne’s eyes narrow. “And you didn’t think the fact that he’s clearly taken would ruin it?”

“I don’t know,” Kelly says, throwing her hands in the hair. “Sue us, we liked seeing you happy for however long it lasted!”

Daphne softens. 

“We thought,” Aaron says, glancing at Kelly for support, “You were getting over Castiel, anyway.”

A small, petty part of Daphne is tempted to deny it as punishment for keeping this from her. But mostly she’s relieved. “Yeah, mostly,” she mutters.

“So… we good?” Aaron tries.

Kelly loops her arm around her in a one-armed hug. “Of course we are.”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Of course,” she echoes as Aaron pats her on the back, a wide grin spreading over his face. And, yeah, this is why she has the two best friends on Earth.

“What are you three up to?” 

The smile slides off Kelly’s face. “Jody!” she says, spinning around to meet their Principal, holding a paper cup of coffee, and trailed by what looks like half the Edlund High teachers.

Oh shit.

Aaron not-so-accidentally knocks his elbow, loudly, into the door as he turns to face Jody et al. “We didn’t see you there,” he says conversationally.

“Hm,” Jody hums as she reaches past them for the doorknob. “Meeting’s going to start in ten.”

“Can we make it fifteen?” Aaron asks desperately, shuffling to the side so he better blocks the way in.

Jody shakes her head, throwing him a bemused look. “I’m pretty sure everyone wants this started with and over as soon as possible.”

“If you need to urinate, Bass, do it now,” Rowena sniffs.

“I don’t-” Aaron starts, breaking off as Jody finally opens the door. 

She stops dead in her tracks.

“Jody!” Dean’s voice carries through the doorway, uncharacteristically high. “’S it time for the meeting already?”

Jo elbows her way to the front. “Goddammit,” she says, sounding completely unsurprised as she stands next to Jody. “Really, guys?”

The rest of the staff curiously filter in.

Behind Daphne, Benny surreptitiously slides Charlie a few bills, muttering, “I told them this was stupid.”

Charlie laughs. “But you still thought they’d last until Homecoming.”

“What can I say,” Benny says, shrugging, “I’m an optimist. And I was so close.”

Daphne meets Charlie’s eyes, asking in a low voice, “Did everyone know?”

Charlie see-saws her hand back and forth as they take their seats. “About half,” she says, glancing behind them to where Dean and Castiel are attempting to make themselves presentable. “Turns out, they’re really bad at keeping the whole ‘Destiel’ thing under wraps. It’s adorable they thought they could try.”

Daphne looks too, and there’s no mistaking what Dean and Castiel were doing. Their lips are swollen from kissing, and, weirdly, Castiel’s tie faces the right way. Daphne snorts. Probably because he didn’t tie it himself, for once.

Jody clears her throat. “Alright, settle down, guys,” she says with a sharp glare in Dean and Castiel’s direction. “As you all know, Homecoming is next weekend-”

* * *

Jody pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, that’s all that was on my agenda for today’s meeting-” she waits for the cheers to die down “but, Dean and Castiel, can you stay for a sec?”

Castiel visibly swallows.

Dean scowls.

Jody waits for the rest of the staff to leave.

Nobody moves a muscle.

“Jesus Christ,” Jody swears under her breath. She’s managing children. Horrible, gossipy children. “Okay, I guess everyone could use a refresher.” She clears her throat. “PDA is strictly discouraged among faculty. It’s in the goddamn handbook, people.”

“Really, Jody?” Dean complains.

“I’m not saying you can’t be in a relationship,” Jody says with a sharp look. “Just don’t… advertise it.”

“You got something against two dudes making out?” Dean demands, half-getting up from his seat.

“Of course not, you ass,” Jody says in a long-suffering voice, “I do have something against teenagers making out in every hallway and empty classroom, which they will if they see their two favorite teachers doing it.” She shakes her head. “If you want to hold hands or take an ad out in the school paper, be my guest.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Castiel says hesitantly, wasting no time in reaching for Dean’s hand.

“Plus,” Jody says loftily, “I’ve been dating Donna for six months, and you don’t see me dragging her into supply closets, do you?” And into the stunned silence, Jody stands up to leave.

There are various cries of, “Donna?”

Donna throws her hands in the air as Kelly, Daphne, and Aaron converge on her like piranhas tasting blood in the water. “Jeez Louise,” Donna grumbles, “a little warning wouldn’t kill ya, would it Jody-o?”

“Probaby,” Jody says, giving them all a jaunty salute. “Enjoy your weekends, everyone!”

[creative-type]

wake from death (and return to life) ix

AO3 first summary:  Zoro had always been told Kuina died falling down a flight of stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.

.

.

It took Kuina almost five minutes of dangling over the rails of the ship to realize there was no wind. She was punch-drunk and giddy, the weight of uncertainty rolled off of her shoulders now that she had a clear path forward. She was a Revolutionary. She was going to be the greatest swordsman in the world.

Kuina allowed herself those five minutes. With everything she’d gone through in the last week and a half she’d more than earned them, and it had been so long since she’d felt any real excitement for her future. But no swordsman worth their blade would let themselves get lost in childish emotionalism. Kuina steadied herself with a few deep breaths, mentally drawing in the flights of fancy that had momentarily escaped from her imagination—daydreams of facing Dracule Mihawk at the behest of the Revolution, of proving once and for all that she could do what so many thought impossible, of reuniting with her father and Zoro proudly bearing the title Greatest.  

It was like trying to wrangle a gaggle of unruly children. The more Kuina struggled to contain herself the more her imagination tried to run free, but she managed to settle back into the state of tranquil serenity that was more befitting of her training. The practical side of her, the part that quietly disapproved of this most recent turn of events, knew that now that she’d painted the broad strokes of her future it was high time to figure out what the hell Aria de Gris was doing now. It was then, and only then, that she noticed that the air was unnaturally still.

The sailors around her were not perturbed even as the Valor’s sails hung limp from their moorings. Kuina could feel that they were moving on the clear, mirror-flat sea. Slowly, but that was better than being dead in the water. Kuina wandered to the ship’s bow, noting that the Valor was sailing almost due south. If the Revolution had followed the same heading since leaving Tolouse, and Kuina had been unconscious for two full days, that meant…

“Don’t worry, we should be out of the Calm Belt by the end of the week.”

Kuina flinched, sword half-drawn before realizing it was only Dara using what had to be the most annoying Devil Fruit ability in the history of the world. Dara laughed as she popped out of the deck, hooking her thumbs in her pockets as Kuina shot her a glare.

But most of Kuina’s irritation was at herself for letting herself be caught by surprise, and she returned her attention back to the water. It was impossible to sail through the Calm Belt without some sort of engine, which the Valor lacked, to say nothing of the danger presented by the innumerable nests of sea kings that buffeted the Grand Line from the Four Blues.

Even as Kuina tried to wrap her mind around it, a dark shadow emerged from the depths directly in front of the ship. A high-pitched, eerie wail, almost like a siren’s song, reverberated through the air and deep into Kuina’s chest.

A monstrous head breached the surface so close to the Valor it sent rippling waves across its hull. Sprays of water jettisoned thirty feet into the air, exposing only part of a stripped, misshapen body before submerging once more. Great flukes, as large as a whale, but covered with algae-like strands of hair, slapped against the surface of the sea and sent sprays of salty water against the deck. Someone in the crow’s nest above whooped out a cry of encouragement.

Thoroughly confused, Kuina looked at Dara, whose grin only widened as she pointed to a tiny speck bobbing to the space recently vacated by the leviathan. “Oh look, there’s Cam. Someone should send a boat after her.”

“As if she’d take it!” a Revolutionary Kuina didn’t recognize shouted from across the deck.

“True,” Dara said contemplatively. Beckoning Kuina to follow, she meandered to the starboard side of the deck and loosened a rope ladder into the sea. “It’s probably faster to just let her swim.”

If Kuina hadn’t been so amazed by the fact Camille hadn’t gotten herself eaten, she would have marveled at the speed with which she cut through the unnaturally-still sea. Kuina considered herself a good enough swimmer, but Camille looked like she’d been born for the water. She moved like she was part fish, each stroke strong and graceful, returning to the Valor in moments. When she climbed back onto the decks she seemed sad to be there, looking back longingly at the water.

“So, how’s Fin?” Dara asked.

“Good, good. I adjusted the harness to fit more comfortably.” Camille arched an eyebrow at her friend while adjusting a leather thong around her neck, from which hung the biggest tooth Kuina had ever seen. “And his name isn’t Fin.”

“Well since you haven’t said what his name is, you’ve left me no choice but to improvise,” Dara retorted. She nudged Kuina in the ribs. “Can you believe she went through the effort of taming a sea king and then didn’t name it? ”

“You tamed a sea king?” Kuina said. “ How? ”

Camille rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tame anything. We’ve just...reached an understanding.” She gave Kuina an appraising look. “I’m surprised the doctor let you out of her grasp so soon.”

“She almost didn’t,” Kuina admitted.

Dara wrapped an arm around Kuina’s neck, ignoring the choked yelp of alarm and Kuina’s efforts to squirm free. “Forget about that! Did you hear, Kuina joined up. She’s officially one of the team!”

“I thought that was a given.” Camille said, utterly disinterested as she wrung the excess water from her shirt.

“When did you hear that?” Kuina said at the same time.

“Pfft, Dara knows pretty much everything on this ship,” Camille said. “You get used to it.”

Kuina frowned. She didn’t like the idea of someone with Dara’s ability nosing her way into business that wasn’t her own. If there was anything she’d learned since sailing with the Revolution, it was that there was very little in the way of privacy while at sea. Ships crowded everyone together, crewmates eating, sleeping, and working in close proximity. While the forced closeness had its advantages, Kuina was used to spending great blocks of time alone. It was something to get used to, and to be wary of.

“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me,” Dara said, tweaking the end of Kuina’s nose. “You saved me from losing five hundred berries, and to Lizard of all people. I am at your service.”

It took Kuina a moment to remember Dara’s ill-thought wager with Elizabeth, and before she could voice her protest Dara had taken her by the arm to make official introductions to the crew, Camille laughing a half-step behind.

There was John the cooper, and James the blacksmith. Among the deckhands Kuina was introduced to rapid-fire were Kojo, Zhao, Lin, Char, Sean, Jen, and Tiva, and by the end of it she had gotten them so thoroughly confused with one another she had no idea which one was which. Others were working belowdecks, or off-shift and resting.

Elizabeth was still regretfully in charge of cooking duties, while Lyudmila was the ship’s quartermaster and second in command. Kuina was surprised to hear that in addition to taming sea kings in her spare time, Camille was the crew’s navigator.

“And what is it you do?” Kuina asked as Dara dragged her back below decks for the grand tour.

“Get newbs like you up to speed. Now here’s Trini’s room—try not to get stuck in here unless you want to spend the afternoon feeding lettuce to snails.”

Kuina blinked in amazement. The communications room was packed full of terrariums housing snail phones of every size and color. At its center was an enormous machine that looked vaguely like what the marines used to send their faxes, with thin cords attached to half a dozen den den mushi. Behind the machine sat Trini wearing an oversized pair of headphones, deep in concentration.

“She’s scanning the airwaves,” Dara said in an exaggerated whisper, carefully closing the door once more. “Not that there’s much to intercept in the Calm Belt, but you never know with the marines these days.”

“The marines can cross the Calm Belt?” Kuina said. “I can barely believe we’re crossing the Calm Belt!”

“It’s all thanks to Fin. Sea king bulls don’t typically fight with one another unless it’s mating season, so even if he’s pulling along a tasty treat we should be all right. I think his song has something to do with it, too.” She made an exaggerated gesture. “As for the marines, I have no freaking clue, but it must be a pretty new development since Boss doesn’t know about it, and the Valor isn’t sea-king proofed either.”

“That’s right, this was a marine ship,” Kuina murmured, looking up at the planks with fresh eyes. It was funny, without the marine’s distinctive painted hulls, she’d never would have been able to tell the difference.

“Oh, yeah. Came with all the amenities, which is how Trini got her state of the art snail room.”

“So if you guys had a sea king snuck up your sleeve this whole time, why didn’t you use it during the battle?” Kuina asked. “A monster that size would have been useful on Tolouse.”

“Ach, must everything be about fighting with you?” Dara said. “You must never have seen a real sea king, but Fin’s practically a baby, not even half-grown. And it’s surprisingly smart—for all my teasing, Cam was right. The thing has a mind of its own and acknowledges no master. I don’t think we could get him to attack a ship if we wanted to.”  

“But he’ll pull a ship through the Calm Belt?” Kuina said.

“It’s better than going the long way around, eh?” Dara said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

At the barracks, Kuina had her choice of seven open bunks. One, which happened to be closest to the door, had a small crate propped on top of the thin mattress. Inside was stuffed with clothes and basic belongings. When Kuina looked askance at Dara the light in her eyes dimmed.

“That’s Danny’s stuff,” Dara said. “The rest who died already have their things stowed for when we get back to base, but as far as any of us know she doesn’t have any family so we’re not really sure what to do with hers. I’d say for you to take the clothes since you don’t have any, but I don’t think they’d fit.”

Kuina drew her fingers over the box, trying to think if she’d said anything about any family in their short time together, but all she remembered her mentioning was an apprenticeship under a cruel master. Kuina’s throat tightened as the memory of Danny screaming hysterically echoed in her mind unbidden.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Dara rubbed her neck uncomfortably. “It happens. I already told Boss when I bite it to sell all my stuff and use the money to have a party. If you all can’t be happy, at least you’ll be drunk.”

“I don’t drink,” Kuina said.

“Then you and Mila can be mopey together,” Dara said with determined cheerfulness. “It won’t matter to me, I’ll be dead. Now, where do you want to be? I’d be careful about that middle one there, it’s next to Lizard, and she snores terribly. ”

Kuina took the hint, and changed the subject, trying not to wonder how many of the bunks available to her had only emptied after the battle of Tolouse.

After the tour came lunch, and with two solid, if not especially tasty, meals under her belt, Kuina was beginning to feel more like herself again. The itch to train was back, and Kuina wanted nothing more to test the limits she’d recently expanded and chase after the high of battle, but much like her time on Belo Betty’s ship she was first subjected to the humiliation of being the newest and lowest-ranking sailor on a large and understaffed warship.

“You’re kind of shit at this, aren’t you?” Camille observed from her perch at the ship’s bow, watching as Kuina ran her mop over the deck for what felt like the hundredth time.

“You could help,” Kuina said.

“And deprive you of the opportunity to learn? Never.” She gave a long, catlike stretch. “By the way, you missed a spot.”

Kuina muttered an oath as she stabbed the mop into the bucket. “It isn’t as if it’s dirty.”

“Water expands and seals the wood, salt protects against rot.” Camille yawned, as if bored by the conversation, and wandered back to their useless rudder. As she passed Kuina, she said, “If you want to live in a drippy, softwooded ship, be my guest. As for me, I’d prefer not to die the first time a Grand Line squall hits.”

She left Kuina with her head bowed and cheeks burning. But the words had their intended effect and Kuina redoubled her efforts, determined from that point on that no one could in good conscience reprimand her sailcraft ever again.

It was nearing dark when de Gris and Lyudmila emerged from the captain’s quarters to call a meeting with the crew. After a long day of labor, Kuina’s muscles ached and she yearned for the sweet respite of bed. And it wasn’t as if the work had been taxing, especially after Clara Cross emerged from the infirmary like an avenging angel to tell off the entire crew, but especially Kuina, for overexerting herself.

There were some things not even Devil Fruit magic couldn’t sweep under the rug, and apparently the exhaustion of a near-death experience was one of them.

“All right everyone, gather round!” de Gris yelled. “Watchmen too! There aren’t any ships out here, and if the sea kings come after us we’re fucked anyway. I want everyone to hear this. Where’s Trini? She can leave the damn snails for ten minutes.”

The crew scrambled to obey the order. Kojo (or maybe Sean) went to gather those who were still belowdecks. Minutes later everyone was assembled in a loose circle around the main mast, with de Gris at the center. She paused a moment to ensure everyone was paying close attention, and under her stern gaze the idle chatter vanished into deathly silence.

Rays of dying light cast against de Gris’s back and framed her face in deep shadow. “I know you all have been wondering lately why the hell we were called to the East Blue so suddenly, and why we’re leaving just as quickly. I’ve heard you lot asking where our next destination was and wonder why I’ve not said where we’re going once we hit the Grand Line. Well, the answer’s simple. Until today, I didn’t know.”

From the folds of her coat, she pulled out an old and crumpled sheet of paper. Kuina squinted her eyes and was just able to make out the blurry picture of a masked figure. The bounty underneath, however, was clear as the sky above. Master-at-Arms Gemini, Wanted Dead or Alive. Bounty: B48,000,000.

Beside her, Dara snorted. “Oh, I bet the marine who thought up that name thought he was very clever.”

It was difficult to tell much from the photograph, but the one detail that was absolutely clear was Gemini’s strange, double-segmented arms, too long for an ordinary human and vaguely insectile. Kuina, who’d never seen anything like it before in her life, wondered what it would be like to fight someone who essentially had two elbows.

She brushed the thought away and turned to Gemini’s face. Their mask, fittingly enough, was divided vertically into halves, one dark and one light. The side that was dark was completely bereft of ornamentation; Kuina couldn’t even make out an eyehole to see out of. The side that was light, however, was painted with a garish grin. A shock of wiry black hair fell past their shoulders, but beyond that it was impossible to discern any identifying features. Baggy clothing and the poor quality of the photograph obscured anything else, even gender, and after spending this much time under de Gris's command, Kuina knew better than to assume.

“Gemini is a prominent figure in the criminal underground,” de Gris continued. “Arms dealing, drug trade, slavery, the whole lot. Removing them from the equation will make the world a safer place.”

“What’s an arms dealer got to do with the Revolution?” someone to Kuina’s right called. “And what have they got to do with the East Blue?” A murmur of agreement rippled through the crew.

“Enough!” de Gris bellowed, silencing them once more. “Tolouse's government were slavers, that much is now clear. They called it political exile to a labor camp, but the end result is the same—the World Government gave the king kickbacks for human chattel, using the Callihan Trading Company as a middleman. And we now now that the CTC was taking orders from Gemini. If Gemini is willing to go through so much effort to set up a scheme in some East Blue backwater, who knows what other fingers they have stuck into various pies around the world.”

“So we’re going after them,” Camille said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“That's right. So far Gemini has been able to stay one step ahead of us, but with the intel gathered on Tolouse we have the upper hand.” De Gris marched to the mast. In one smooth motion she drew a dagger hidden in her boot, and stabbed the bounty deep into the wood.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to Kyuka Island. In the days ahead I’ll be divvying out assignments. Any questions are to be directed toward Lyudmila or myself—out of an abundance of caution, you’re not to discuss your orders with anyone else on this ship. I’ll keelhaul anyone who tries.” At this her gaze went directly to Kuina, who got the impression these instructions were given strictly for her benefit. "Kyuka is marine territory through and through. I pray none of us fall into Government hands, but if we do, it's safest for the Revolution that each individual knows as little as possible about our plans."

After a pause, and hearing no objections, de Gris lit a cigarette for herself. “I’ll pay anyone who finds any intelligence on Gemini that leads to their capture or death the full value of their bounty. I’ll pay double to anyone who brings me their head. This chase has gone on long enough, I want this bastard dead. ” She flicked a bit of ash off the end of her cigarette and added, almost as an afterthought, “Dismissed.”

A gap in the circle opened to let de Gris through. As she passed, she grabbed Kuina by the shoulder. “Come on, greenhorn. It’s time we sort out your position on this ship.”

For the second time that day Kuina was led to the captain’s quarters. De Gris’s desk had been cleared away, the sea charts rolled back into their proper places and ashtrays emptied. Kuina slid back into a chair that smelled like tobacco. “What is it? Does the Revolution have Articles of Enlistment for me to sign? Is there a manifesto I’m supposed to study?”

“Don’t be stupid.” The sun had almost dipped below the horizon, and de Gris found a box of matches to light a kerosene lamp. The orange flame danced on its wick and flickered with the natural roll of the ship. “I’m told Dara gave you the runaround today.”

Kuina nodded.

“Clara never came screaming at me, so I have to assume you’re not feeling too poorly,” she mused, taking the time to light another cigarette.

“I’m fine,” Kuina said, rolling back her shoulders so de Gris couldn’t see the weariness in them.  

“And have you taken that sword out of its sheath even once today?”

“Uh...no?” Kuina said.

“Unacceptable.” De Gris leaned back in her chair and let out a long stream of smoke. “You’re not some swabby or rigging monkey, you’re here because of your blade.” She looked at Kuina as if she were an idiot for not realizing this sooner.

“I’m willing to work just as hard as anyone else on this ship,” Kuina said stiffly.

“And you will. Harder, even, since you’re so far behind. But a ship is like…” She gesticulated, trying to find the right word. “It’s like a person. A crew is its own organism, and every one of us has to fit into their part. You don’t expect a heart to do the same work as a kidney, and no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to be half the sailor as the people who’ve spent their whole lives on the water. It’s ridiculous to think otherwise.”

Kuina nodded. What she said made sense, and in many ways Kuina agreed with her. But there was something about agreeing with Aria de Gris that didn’t sit right with her, so she said, “I have to learn sometime.”

“Obviously. I’m not about to let you be a liability once we hit the Grand Line, but there has to be balance. You’re no good to me if you get yourself killed because you spent too much time studying the different types of sails instead of your swordsmanship.” De Gris was pensive for a moment. “I’ll have Mila set up a schedule for you in the morning. Half the day working chores, the rest training. A few of my men use katana, but you’re better than all of them. Most of what you’ll do will have to be self study.”

“That’s fine. I haven’t had a master in years.”

De Gris looked surprised to hear this, but didn’t comment. “We have regular sparing times as well, to help our less practiced fighters build their skill, and to give the mainliners a chance to get used to each other's styles. Depending on how this all shakes out, you might be pairing with Dara or Camille for the upcoming mission. Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Of course not,” Kuina said, caught off-guard by the question.

“Then you’ll learn.” De Gris cut off Kuina’s protests before they could begin. “Can you kill someone at twenty yards with your sword?”

“No,” Kuina said mulishly.

“Then you need to know how to fire a gun, and probably keep one on you as a backup weapon. I have no use for senseless pride on this ship, girl,” she said as Kuina scrunched her nose in distaste. It’s your job to listen to what I say, and it’s my job to try and put you in a position to not die. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Kuina said, still unhappy at the prospect of sullying her hands with a firearm.

Without warning, de Gris pounded her fist on her desk. The kerosine lamp tottered and threatened to fall, but her eyes never left Kuina’s, the scar on her cheek pulled taunt with her scowl.

“I said. Do. You. Understand ?”

“And I said yes, ” Kuina snapped. “I’ll learn to use you’re stupid gun, and when I figure out how to kill someone at fifty yards with my sword I’ll drop kick it into the ocean where it belongs." She crossed her arms across her chest. "I already told you I’ll do what you say so long as you don’t interfere with my ambition, so there’s no need to treat me like a child.”  

They glared at one another for a long while, hackles raised, but this time Kuina refused to let herself be intimidated into backing down. Slowly, still without breaking eye contact, de Gris eased back into her chair and doused her cigarette. “I have put too many people’s belongings into boxes because they wouldn’t listen. For your own sake, I hope you’re not one of them.”

For the second time that day, memory of Danny's last words echoed in her mind. “You’re in luck, because right now I don’t own enough stuff to fit into a box, let alone anyone to send it to.”

“No one at all?” de Gris said, eyebrows raising.

Kuina’s breath hitched as she thought of her father back at Shimotsuki village. Would the Revolutionary Army be able to return her meager belongings home without the marines knowing? Would he be able to stand knowing she’d joined Dragon’s cause despite all his warnings? What about Ipponmatsu? He at least wasn’t under suspicion by the World Government...Or was he, now that she’d attacked Tashigi?

Of everyone she knew, it was probably safest to give her belongings to Zoro , but gods only knew what part of the Grand Line he’d found himself in. She almost laughed at the thought of him using two of her swords for himself.

“No one,” Kuina said. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging crescent moons into her palms, but she kept her voice calm and her tone even.

After another heartbeat of painful silence, de Gris said, “Well, you’re not the only one." The words were probably meant to be reassuring, but Kuina felt they were anything but. “If you think of anybody, make sure someone knows.”

“I don’t plan on dying,” Kuina said.

De Gris snorted and lit another cigarette. “None of us do. Now get some grub and get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Kuina rose to her feet. After a moment’s hesitation, she bowed slightly. “Thank you...Captain.”

De Gris waved her away with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “You don’t have to break your teeth saying it. I don’t give a damn what you call me so long as you follow orders. Just know I take discipline on this ship very seriously. Cross me, and keelhauling is the least you’ll have to worry about.”

Kuina didn’t doubt it for a second. Murmuring her goodbyes, she left de Gris to her cigarettes and her musings, grateful to be able to swallow the clean sea air once more.

[jessiewritesthings]

Saudade - Epilogue

Prince Zuko x Reader

Here she is!! Saudade is my baby and i’m so happy and so grateful for everyone that has taken the time to read this, i love you all! thank you thank you thank you x

Part I - Part II - Part III

168 AG

Izumi smiled softly, flipping through the pages of the family album. Black and white photos dotted the pages, documenting the life you had shared with Zuko for more than seventy years. Images of you and Zuko at the helm of numerous Fire Lily Festivals, visiting Fire Nation Citizens, meeting with delegates from all over the Four Nations. The images Izumi liked the most were the ones with all your friends in them – as a child she had thought it was just the coolest thing that her parents were best friends with the Avatar.

She also particularly loved the photos you would take on your vacations to Ember Island – loved how proudly you held yourself, scar and all. Most people would take to hiding away, a scar so bad as yours was enough reason to, Izumi had figured. She knew her father struggled with it every day – no matter how many times you tried to comfort him, he always saw it as a sign of his weakness, a reminder of the cruelty that Azula and Ozai, and the rest of his predecessors had put the world through.

Your life with Zuko hadn’t always been easy, though it had definitely been worth it. Numerous assassination attempts on the both of you had plagued your first few years together, and the backlash from Zuko’s advisors as he proposed and promptly married you, crowning you his Fire Lady, hadn’t gone down particularly easy. Nonetheless, you were stronger together, and in time the Fire Nation grew to love you, just as they did Zuko.

Izumi sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek as she closed the album, placing it on the corner table before joining her father on the balcony.

“Izumi, my dear,” Zuko murmured, reaching for her hand as she placed it on his shoulder.

Izumi stood silently with her father, watching as their guest’s ships began to depart. If she squinted, she could see Katara with Tenzin and Pema, waving as Pema wrangled with Jinora and Ikki, young Meelo clinging to his father. Raising his hand to wave in return, Zuko thought about how desperately he wanted Aang, or his Uncle Iroh around – someone that could help him come to terms with the most devastating blow he’d been dealt yet.

It had been two weeks now, since Zuko had woken to find you cold, yet soft and peaceful in his arms. Your arms had still been pressed across his chest, the same groove you always found yourselves sleeping in, legs pushed together like you were two halves of a whole – which, in a way, you were. Zuko had swallowed down his fear, and his cry for help, as he looked at you, softly brushing your white hair from your face, his fingers delicately running the beads along the strands.

“Oh, my sweet y/n,” he had whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his tears starting to fall over your face. He stayed there with you, unable and unwilling to move, as if he stayed still forever you might open your eyes and greet him. His eyes didn’t move from your form when his attendant, Mira, entered the room, a tray of hot breakfast and steaming tea in her arms.

The tray was quickly placed on the side table as Mira rushed to the bedside, gasping in shock.

“Lord Zuko,” she started, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Mira, please.” He let go of you now, gently removing himself from your bed, as if trying not to rouse you.

Mira came to his side, placing an arm on Lord Zuko’s shoulder before he smiled softly at her and pulled her into a hug. Zuko continued to cry, comforted by Mira. You had been loved and admired by all of the palace staff, and many of them had requested to follow you and Zuko when you had moved to Ember Island following Zuko’s abdication as Fire Lord.

“The Lady y/n will be remembered fiercely, Lord Zuko. The Fire Nation’s most delicate flower.”

Zuko smiled, fondly remembering the first time he had introduced you to his dragon, Druk. Zuko had the utmost confidence in the dragon, and you had been positively terrified – not because he was a giant fire-breathing dragon – you’d proven yourself more than capable of handling fire by now – but he was just so big. Nonetheless, you had mounted Druk, and shrieked in surprise as Zuko leapt off the dragon, watching as you soared into the sky, your wild hair flowing as you clutched onto Druk’s scales. Zuko was positively enamoured – he’d already spent a lifetime loving you, but seeing you ride Druk with such tenacity and grit had sent him straight into the past, flying through all your history until you were both back in the Crystal Catacombs in Ba Sing Se. Zuko was enchanted by you, and he knew he would be until his heart stopped beating.

You were beaming as Druk had landed, your hair windswept and your blue robes loose, exhilarated. Leaping off the dragon, you ran to Zuko’s arms, flinging yourself to him as your arms found their natural home, your lips pressing to his scar.

“Zuko, that was incredible,” you’d exclaimed, astounded.

“Mmm, it certainly was.” Zuko smiled – watching you ride Druk was better than being in the reigns himself.

“My Dragon Queen,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses against your neck, the spot he knew you loved the most.

_____

Zuko sat with his daughter until the sun had entirely disappeared, and then they sat together for longer, watching the night as the stars began to dapple across the sky, the moon incandescent in its beauty as it graced the sky. They sat silently, hands clasped together, tucked into a patchwork quilt you had made for Izumi’s birth – a delicate, stunning piece of work that seamlessly incorporated both sides of you and Zuko, magical swirls of red and blue speckled with gems and beads.

Izumi twirled the blue beads adorning the quilt through her fingers, recalling the countless nights that she would rouse you both from sleep, claiming to be plagued by nightmares. You never complained, always opening your arms to pull her in, letting her nestle in-between you and Zuko where she would sleep freely. Sometimes, before sleep took her, Izumi would feel your fingers drifting through her hair, and she would fall asleep in such a tranquil, safe space.

Eventually Izumi heard stories about her grandfather Ozai – horrifying stories of what he’d done to the world, his nation, his family. She’d never asked her father about his scar – in-fact it never occurred to her as a child that it deviated from malicious intent, because her mother had one too. In Izumi’s young mind, she used to imagine that the two of you being scarred was just the spirits way of making sure you found each other, as if your scars acted as magnets that would bring you together wherever you were.

“I was so lucky to have her love me, Izumi,” Zuko hummed, voice raspy. “I always knew I would love her, after we first met. Your mother, she was magic. Ethereal. It has been the greatest honour of my life to love her, and that love brought me the greatest gift: you.”

Izumi smiled fondly at her father, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

“She was lucky to have your love, too.”

Lord Zuko turned to his daughter, a soft smile gracing his face. She was an excellent Fire Lord, and he recalled the time Ursa had told him that a Fire Lord producing a nonbending child was a disgrace in Ozai’s eyes. Of course, Ozai was wrong. Izumi was not a bender, but Zuko constantly found himself in awe of his daughter’s calm demeanour, and when he abdicated his throne, he had never been prouder of Izumi as she was crowned Fire Lord.

Izumi’s birth had not been easy for you – she was a stubborn babe, and you’d been in labour for hours – days actually, as you later found out. Katara was assisting you, and Aang had taken Zuko away to keep him distracted – it was awfully improper for a husband to be present at a birth of course. Naturally, that didn’t deter you, and you constantly pleaded with Katara and your handmaiden to please, please, please get Zuko. As Zuko and Aang returned to the palace, Fire Lord Zuko was informed that your child still had not been delivered. Anxiety consumed him, and to the horror of his advisors he’d dashed to your chambers, grasping your hand and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you finally delivered a healthy, beautiful, precious baby girl.

Zuko was enamoured with Izumi immediately, and would often be found after a particularly highly-strung meeting with his advisors sitting on the balcony in Izumi’s nursery, holding his soft, sweet girl in his arms. Before Izumi was born, Zuko had confided in you that he wasn’t sure about his ability to be a father – he wanted to be a good father so much that it overwhelmed him, and he wasn’t able to comprehend it. He’d blurted it out in the middle of a game of Pai Sho, neither of you knowing that you were in-fact already carrying the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation. You’d reached your arm across the board, hand gently caressing Zuko as you gave him a reassuring smile.

“You will be magnificent, my love. Any children we have will grow to see their father the same way I do – brave, intelligent, loving and kind.”

Zuko took your hands, pressing them to his lips as he watched you, shadows from the flames flickering across your face.

“Have I told you that I’m madly in love with you?” he replied, a cheeky grin forming. Forgetting the game of Pai Sho, you crept over to his side, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Not nearly enough,” you answered, your lips pressing together as Zuko put his hands in your hair, pulling his fingers through.

“I’m madly in love with you, y/n. Every minute of every day.”

175 AG

Lord Zuko stirred softly in his sleep, out on the balcony as usual – you had spent most of your time here curled up together, after all. He was smiling softly, thinking of you as he always did. It had been an interesting few years without you, but nothing could fill the void that was left inside Zuko after you left. He would often wake from a restless sleep, desperately clutching the sheets as if you were there, only to be disappointed every time. He played many games of Pai Sho with Mira, and she would sit with him each evening, enjoying a cup of tea on the balcony as they kept each other company. Most often, Zuko would sit on the loveseat in the balcony, your favourite blanket draped across him for comfort instead of warmth. He’d sit there with his tea, usually forgetting it as he would drift into a deep sleep, visited by you and your memories together.

“Come, Zuko. Let’s go down to the beach,” you urged.

The sun was setting on Ember Island, and you were due to return to the palace tomorrow, Fire Lord duties to be resumed. Iroh had graciously stepped in in place of Zuko to allow the pair of you to have on ‘official’ honeymoon, something you were both incredibly grateful for.

Slipping your hand into his, you’d made your way down to the beach, both barefoot and revelling in the soothing nature of the sand. You’d let go of him now, running through the waves as they crashed on the shore. Zuko couldn’t do much more than stare at you – your hair shined in the fading sun, the red hues making you look delicious and warm. Your gown wrapped around your waist, unravelled slowly, revealing your scar. Zuko grimaced, a flash of pain echoing on his face. Seeing this, you ran to his side, placing your hands in his.

“I just…,” he started, swallowing. “I just wish I could take it away, for you.”

“Don’t, my love. It is as much a part of me as yours is you. I am proud to have this scar. Proud of what it represents for us, for all that we’ve been through. I don’t want you to feel this way every time you look at me.”  

Zuko smiled softly, pressing his lips to your forehead.  

“I look at you, and I am alive.”

Zuko placed his hands on your waist as you wrapped yours around his neck.

“Dance with me,” you whispered. Zuko blushed – forever the one with two left feet – and the two of you danced, softly, delicately, holding each other as if all the love in the world had been given to only you both in that moment. Water rushed over your feet as you moved across the sand. A laugh escaped you as Zuko caught his foot on yours, accidentally tripping you up as you both fell into the sand, water lapping at your feet. Sighing, you ran your fingers through his hair as you rested on top of him.

“I think I loved you the moment I saw you. Even if I didn’t know it then,” you’d whispered, gazing into his eyes. Zuko had raised his head slightly, watching you carefully, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “We will be remembered, Zuko. For the right reasons.”

Pulling himself off the sand, Zuko lent back, allowing you to shuffle into his arms. You sat silently together, watching as the stars began to dot across the night sky, peaceful and content like neither of you had ever felt before.

Zuko woke slowly, the first rays of the new day dawning. You stood before him, hazy and radiant and celestial in your beauty, before reaching one hand out to him.

“Come, Zuko. There’s still so much more to see.”

Zuko’s eyes closed, a long, deep breath escaping for one final time. He was in his dreams now – dreaming his dreams with you.

_____

“Lord Zuko,” Mira called, unsurprised to find the elderly Lord had once again slept on his balcony.

Mira approached him, a gasp of shock leaving her as she realised just how peaceful he looked. In his hands he held a small, silver hair clip, adorned with white and blue gems and beads.

Ah. Together again.

_____

oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak

eridanuswave

coldlilheart

thirstyforsometea

lammello

whalerus

astroninaaa

lil-lex1

zukosvice

darkskin-buttercup

yiyibetch

[vecnawrites]

ArcAngel, Chapter 2

It’s been just a few days since Joan was born, and already, a circle to protect the newborn Angel is forming.

It was a great shock to the Arc Family that their newest member was an Angel, a quasi-mythical being that was the complete antithesis of the Creatures of Grimm. As it was, Vermilion, Juniper, and Adrianne were running interference, playing off that both Juniper and the newborn Joan were healthy, but needing rest and to be unbothered so no one came and found out the secret until they found a reliable way to hide their newborn’s wings...or the little Angel managed to pull them in.

As it was, they had to hide the youngest of the family’s status from Indaco, Injigo, and Violette, since they were very excitable and might accidentally let their sister’s uniqueness slip when talking about her. Bless them, they were a little too young yet to truly understand about how Angels could be hunted down and abused for their powers.

Crimson, Saphron, Verde, and Bleu knew and understood, and as such were involved in ‘Angel Wrangling’...not that there was much actual work involved. Her species was rather ironic, as Joan was an Angel. She only ever cried when she was hungry or needed a diaper change, usually just content to be cuddled in the arms of whomever was holding her.

~x~x~

Vermilion sighed as he looked through the books Adrianne had lent him. They didn’t say anywhere near as much as he liked. They had the basic powers that she would gain: Flight, Immunity to Human and Faunus Illnesses, Photokinesis, Healing...but not only did it not say when these powers would emerge (he was already having nightmares of a flying baby that would be captured and taken away from the family), and worse, there was mention of powers that each angel had that were completely unique to any other, so the ones mentioned in the book were likely useless.

But that didn’t stop him from taking extensive notes to make sure that he, that Joan, would have the information at her fingertips as she grew up. He wouldn’t allow her to go through childhood wondering why or how she had these abilities if he could help it.

He also refused to let her go through life without knowing the dangers of her power. Not only were the more significant powers draining, leading to to exhaustion if not used carefully, but in several cases they could kill the Angel in question if misused. Beyond that, there had been instances of families killed and the Angels taken and broken, making their golden wings turn pitch black as they were broken and forced to use their powers for the selfish whims of others.

Fire burned within him at the thought of his baby being put through that, the bright light in her eyes reduced to a dead flicker of what it was. “I promise, my daughter…” he vowed, “I will do everything possible to ensure you live your life without fear...and only you will decide what your destiny is…”

~x~x~

“Waaaahhhh!” Juniper jolted out of her doze as she turned to see her baby squirming in her bassinet next to her. Gently leaning over and gathering her baby in her arms, a quick cursory sniff told her that it wasn’t a diaper change, so she gently cradled her daughter in the nook of her arm and rocked her gently. “What’s the matter, sweetie? Let’s try some food…”

Carefully shifting, Juniper opened her robe, revealing one of her heavy breasts and gently twisting her daughter so her lips brushed against her nipple. She released a small laugh as her baby immediately latched on and began nursing, quieting down as she nuzzled closer, her little chubby cheeks moving as she pulled milk into her mouth and devoured it hungrily. “You can slow down, baby girl...mommy’s not going to run away, and she’s not going to run out of milk anytime soon…” she cooed, gently stroking her baby’s head, amazed at how she had so much hair already. They could already pull it into a tiny ponytail on top of her head. But the strands were just as golden as the tiny feathers that were attached to the wings on her back.

“I promise, baby girl...we won’t let anything bad happen to you…” Juniper murmured, gently rocking her baby and slowly beginning to sing, a soft tune that her own mother had sang to her, and her mother before that.

“Hush little child,

wipe your tears away,

you’re safe in my arms,

in the moonlit night~”

She could see her baby’s blue eyes (like the rest of the families, but somehow brighter and even more pure) focusing on her, even as she suckled, making Juniper tear up, this precious little life meant so much, not just to her, her husband, and her daughters, but to Humanity as a whole. “I promise, Joan. For whatever reason you were given to us, we will help you…”

~x~x~

Adrianne Nox never really thought of herself of someone who would do greatness. She was a mere pediatrician and midwife, living in a settlement outside Kingdom walls and ruled by itself. She had honestly thought she would go through her life pretty normally, help mothers give birth to their newborns, and care for those same newborns until she either retired or death took her.

She never expected to help a mother in this settlement give birth to an Angel.

Despite preferring healing, she was no slouch when it came to History, either. She knew that Angels were only born when there was an upcoming period of intense change in the world. She also knew that they were gifted with incredible talents and abilities, to help protect humanity from the Grimm.

But she also knew that they needed to be protected in their formative years. While they could instinctively use their powers to defend themselves, that could disable them when they got older. They were extremely vulnerable until the age of five or so. It would be difficult, but they would protect her, until she could protect herself. It would be easier than normal, since she was not only the one who helped birth her, but also the Pediatrician for the Arc Family, it would be pitifully easy to modify her charts to hide what she really was. She wouldn’t let the world’s newest Angel be captured and Fall, she swore on everything she was. “I swear, little one, nothing will harm you if I can stop it...”

~x~x~

The Arc Sisters were worried for their youngest sibling. All of them that were in the know, Crimson, aged seventeen, Saphron, aged fourteen, Verde, aged thirteen, and Bleu, aged twelve, sat in Crimson’s bedroom, books surrounding them. Every reference of Angels they could scrounge up from their family library. They knew that their newest sister was something special, and why Injigo and Indaco, seven years old, and Violette, a mere five, weren’t told.

The Twins weren’t exactly discreet, after all, and it was hard for a five year old to have any ability to keep a secret. They loved their little sisters dearly, but all of them knew that Joan was helpless right now. It was up to the family as a whole to defend her.

So the four were pouring over every tome they had lifted, marking down everything interesting they found, every bit of potentially useful information that they could use to help Joan understand her own roots, in a way.

Crimson was the eldest of the Arc Daughters, and even though she wasn’t a Huntress proper, she was trained by their father in the case of Grimm attacks breaching the walls. It hadn’t happened since before she was born, but it never hurt to make sure to be prepared. ‘I swear, Joan...I will protect you and help you learn what you need…’ she vowed.

Saphron was simultaneously amazed and worried for her baby sister. She had always loved to read those histories, hoping to write something as wonderful as she had read. The stories of Angelic help in the world filled her with hope for the future, and part of her wanted to make sure that her sister’s stories were recorded for the future to help others. ‘I promise, baby sister...I will make sure that everything is written perfectly, so no one can try and cast shadows on your actions…’ she promised.

Verde Arc liked to think herself an adventurer, and had shamefully been jealous for a few moments at the fact that her baby sister would have far many more than she could, until she realized what dangers she would be facing. Grimm would be, surprisingly enough, the least problematic thing she would face her entire life. The largest problem would be humans and faunus, surprisingly enough. For every Angel that helped bring about peace, there was at least two of them that had been forced to use their powers for selfish reasons, by selfish people, breaking them and making them shadows of themselves. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow that to happen to her newest sister. She would make sure she learned all the tricks that she had learned, from rock climbing to knot tying! ‘Don’t worry, Joan, big sis Verde will watch over you!’

Bleu Arc knew she wasn’t a fighter. She had never had the instinct for it, nor the stomach. But what she did have was her mind. She was considered arguably the most intelligent of the children, having been drawing prototypes and blueprints as long as she could remember. She adjusted her glasses as her keen eyes roamed the pages of the books around her, not reading the words, but instead looking over the pictures of the angels within them. What they were wearing, what they were wielding, what they were fighting, her mind already coming up with plans on what to design for Joan as she grew older and into the warrior that the world would no doubt make her. ‘I may not be a fighter like daddy or Crimson, but I can help you with my brain! I promise, Joan!’ she swore that her sister would have the best equipment ever!

~x~x~

The seven each continued their different plans as the four youngest of the Arc family rested, all of them working together, albeit in different ways, to ensure the future of the newest member of the family. They all vowed that she would only have to follow her own heart, not anyone’s desires but her own.

[orime-stories]

☺️💻✏️

Thank you for the asks! <3 And thank you for being patient while I agonised over which three works to include for the 'must read' question (why must you make me suffer?). Asks here. More answers here and here.

A line that made you feel a fluffy happiness

Aurelle's always a fantastic source of fluffy happiness! First line that came to mind there was this one from the Soul prompt of the september writing challenge (here).

Oh it had been so long since she’d properly been taken by daydreams like this! The clouds around her soul immediately began to scatter as she gladly dove into that familiar comfort again, grateful to him for being the one to finally spark life into her imagination once more.

Three works of yours that are must reads

It took me so long to decide what to do with this one. XD Do I pick my three favourite works? The three works I feel best represent the kind of writing I do? And then of course I want to try and have different kinds of works represented across the three chosen... I'm sure I'll change my mind again in five minutes, but I'm just going to grab these three that are floating in front of me just now and run before I can overthink things any further.

1. My longest running writing project is Seluna - the novelisation of my Pillars of Eternity Watcher's experiences throughout the first game. It deals with angsty topics of mental, physical and spiritual health, it's got a fluffy polyamorous romance that is soon to include some smutty elements, and the OC is one that has hope and compassion built into the very core of her character and who is very good at wrangling lovely, wholesome moments out of the often quite grim setting she's found herself in. If I had to pick one chapter to share, I'd go for this one that shows that blend of angst and wholesomeness in a scene where Seluna meets a family with a baby that was born without a soul.

2. Last year I took prompt suggestions for the first time and am still really proud of the lovely collection of Quiet Moments I wrote for them, again for Seluna's character. And then if I had to pick one of those to share, I'd pick this one, which shows a scene from Seluna's teenage years where she's still figuring out her relationship to the god she's utterly devoted to in her main story, through a wholesome exchange with her mother and some contemplation on the nature of rain.

3. And then a couple of months ago I did my first daily writing challenge that I'm very proud of the results of, this time for my Final Fantasy XIV Warrior of Light. Picking just one to showcase again, I'll pick this one that is an exploration of different kinds of weather from Aurelle's perspective, including rain again and also some wholesome mother moments. (The secret ingredients for my best writing? Could merit further investigation, lol.)

Favourite part about writing

Building a horde of imaginary friends to keep me company when I can't sleep or when I'm feeling sad or when I'm stuck being bored somewhere. Imaginary friends that inspire me to be brave or to be kind or to be selfish and a whole host of other things, depending on what I need in the moment and what I've been practising through inhabiting those friends.

[lawrenceop]

HOMILY for Pentecost Sunday

Acts 2:1-11; Ps 103; Gal 5:16-25; John 15:26-27,16:12-15

There are certain things that are so important, so essential, that we can take them for granted. Our parents, for example, have always been there for us. Or to use an example that is very topical, the very act of breathing and being able to take a breath with ease. Many of us in the past year will have become more aware of the gift of being able to breathe freely. The masks we wear remind us of every breath we take, especially if you wear glasses like I do. And of course, if you’ve watched the news, seen documentaries about the pandemic, or if you’ve read about the situation facing people in our hospitals or in India, then you’ll know that the coronavirus that we’re fighting affects our breathing. And so, something so vital, so essential that we often take it for granted is taken away from us. So, too, in the past year, various social restrictions have taken ‘normal’ things away from us, which is why we find ourselves in May 2021 confirming our young adults who were meant to have been confirmed in the summer of 2020.

Last week I was at a meeting with the parish priests of our local area, our Deanery, and it had been some time since we had seen each other in person. One priest, from Swiss Cottage, had been hospitalised twice because of the coronavirus, and he spoke very movingly about the novel experience of not being able to catch his breath, and of having to be given oxygen for six days. As I listened, we wept for those in India and other places where oxygen has not been available for them, where people have struggled and died for want of something as basic as breathing – which rather puts into perspective all the other basic normal things that we complain has been taken away from us.

Now, the Holy Spirit who is given to us today – given to the Church at Pentecost, and given to each of us individually through the Sacraments – is in fact the Breath of God: ruah, pneuma, spiritus. And in the Creed we refer to the Holy Spirit as the “Giver of Life”, because without the Breath of God, our Christian life, our spiritual life, our hope of eternal life with God in heaven is dead as a fish out of water –we’re just left gasping for air. And so, just like the breath we need but often take for granted, so too, but in a far deeper and more important way, we human beings need God the Holy Spirit; we need to remain connected to him through the Sacraments of the Church, through regular prayer and coming to Mass week after week. We need God even more than we need the air that we breath because he is the Giver of Life itself.

So when the Holy Spirit is given on this day and he descends upon the apostles, the friends of Christ hear the sound of a “powerful wind from heaven” that fills their whole house. This means that God breathes out his Holy Breath, his Life, his Spirit, and it fills the whole Church. And now, today, when you are anointed and you receive the Sacrament of Confirmation, so too the Breath of God is poured out, given by Christ who is acting in his Church, and the Spirit fills you – each of you are the house in which God dwells – and God in you gives you life.

Those who cannot breathe, in our hospitals, are helped by ventilators and given oxygen. Because we are all born into a state of original sin, each of us have also, from birth, been struggling to breathe, spiritually speaking. Sin chokes the life from us, and leaves us gasping for air. Hence St Paul, in our second reading, talks about the effects of sin on a society and on our relationships. He says: “When self-indulgence is at work the results are obvious: fornication, gross indecency and sexual irresponsibility; idolatry and sorcery; feuds and wrangling, jealousy, bad temper and quarrels; disagreements, factions, envy; drunkenness, orgies and similar things.” If we have experienced such things in our lives, in our societies, our schools, our homes, then we know that our world, and indeed our own selves are in fact gasping for breath because of the deadly effects of sin, a far more terrifying and invisible disease than the coronavirus!

When you and I were baptised, then, it is like being given ventilators, again spiritually speaking, so that we could breathe more easily and receive life. For God’s Holy Spirit was given to us then, and working within us, giving us his grace, his life, his energy, we were empowered to live Christian lives. The effects of our Baptism, therefore, as St Paul says to the Galatians, are “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, trustfulness, gentleness and self-control.” The reason why I say that we’re still on ventilators, spiritually speaking, and we’re not able to breathe easily by ourselves, is because sin continues to influence us and have a hold over us. Hence, every day, we need the Breath of God, we need to receive God’s grace in the Sacraments of the Church, through regular prayer and coming to Mass week after week. Pope Francis has referred to the Church as a “field hospital” because it is here that wounded souls are healed, and so it is here that those who are left breathless and asphyxiated by sin can receive the Breath of Life, the ‘ventilation’ of the Sacraments!

But as with the simple act of breathing, which we can take for granted because it is so essential, so too, the Holy Spirit, and the grace of the Sacraments, and coming to church can all be taken for granted. In part, you were brought here by your parents, and encouraged by them to do so. But also because you were baptised as babies, so Jesus Christ and his Church and her Sacraments have always been part of your lives, and you can end up taking it all for granted. Please don’t. The most important things are often taken for granted, but we now realise how much we need them, and we pray that they will not be taken from us. For as the psalmist says: “You take back your spirit, they die, returning to the dust from which they came.” Hence, our prayer today and everyday is always: “Come Holy Spirit”! Come, give us the Breath of God for without you we are left for dead by sin and the hardships of life and mortally wounded by a godless world; without you we fall!

One young man who knew this was Blessed Carlo Acutis, the first millennial saint, born in London, who died of leukemia in 2006, aged just 15 like you. He once said: “Our soul is like a hot air balloon. If by chance there is a mortal sin, the soul falls to the ground. Confession is like the fire underneath the balloon enabling the soul to rise again. . . It is important to go to confession often.” Although he was only about your age, Carlo knew what life was ultimately about. He said: “Our goal must be infinite, not the finite. The infinite is our homeland. Heaven has been waiting for us forever.” But he knew that we didn’t just get to heaven automatically. Rather, to reach our goal he knew that we need to stay close to Jesus, and also to love his mother Mary. So he said: “The Eucharist is the highway to heaven” because “The more Eucharist we receive, the more we will become like Jesus, so that on earth we will have a foretaste of heaven.” Listen, then, to this young saint, and to his profound insights, that must have come to him through deep prayer, and through the gift of the Holy Spirit.

That same Holy Spirit, the Breath of God, is going to be given to you today in the Sacrament of Confirmation. As you know, the word ‘confirmation’ means to be strengthened, to be made firmer in your resolve, your commitment, your promise to live as Christians in the world. In our hospitals, those who are breathless are given oxygen to help them breathe more easily. The Holy Spirit is like oxygen, who helps you live the Christian life more easily. Oxygen also causes things to ignite, to burn hotter and brighter. Hence, when the Breath of God comes down upon the apostles on Pentecost day, they see tongues of fire! Because the Holy Spirit, given to you today is, spiritually speaking, like oxygen, who will cause you to burn with greater love for God, and to shine with good works, loving actions, give glory to God your heavenly Father.

My dear young people, our parish here at St Dominic’s, this community, we have great need of you. We need you to help us, as a Christian parish community, to burn hotter and brighter; to contribute to what we do and say here so that we can love God better, and show the world that this is where they need to come to receive “the Lord, the Giver of Life”. So, after your Confirmation today, be sure to come back week after week: remain connected to God, the Breath of Life, through the Sacraments of the Church and regular daily prayer: come to Confession at least once a month, and come to Holy Mass every Sunday. And do come and speak with me, and tell me how I can help you to burn more brightly as a Christian, how I can help you in your friendship with Jesus, and ask the questions that trouble and confuse you about being Catholic in a world that thinks we’re drunk or strange or mad! And please, don’t let me, your parish priest, take you for granted. Because you’re too important to me, and essential to all of us here at St Dominic’s!

Together, we will renew this place, and even this neighbourhood, and indeed, transform our lives through the grace and power and Breath of the Holy Spirit. If I may end by borrow the words of a certain song by ‘Fun’: “Tonight, we are young, So let's set the world on fire, We can burn brighter than the sun.” Indeed, we shall burn brighter – with the light of Jesus Christ the Son!