#I love saying mane instead of mane makes me feel more southern

[dixidin]

Twenty-sixth day of cringetober /ᐠ_ ꞈ _ᐟ\ɴʏᴀ~

If you repost this on another website, please give credit. Do not put my art in any ai or repost it as your own work. You are free to use this as a pfp as long as you credit. Any like or rebblog is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! -dixidin

[ellieswhoreeee]

The Two of Us. pt 2

authors note; thank you guys for the support, it really means a lot to me! Im glad you guys liking the story so far! Anyways, here’s part two! Also, i’d like to apologize in advance for any errors or if something doesn’t make sense. English isn’t my first language so i’m sorry if there’s something wrong :)

Endgame pairings: Ellie Williams x fem! reader.

Warnings: Violence, marijuana, swearing, ect.

———————————————————————

It really hurt seeing them together.

You felt the disappointment, the hurt and the jealousy as they simply talked. Though you know there was a deeper meaning behind their seemingly innocent conversation. You know more than anyone about them. Being one Ellie’s best friends is both a blessing and a curse.

She smiled, looking slightly flustered after Cat whispered something in her ear, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw at that.

It was a troubling sight, really it was. Everything seemed so off. Like it wasn’t real. But it was. Ellie was laughing with the cool girl who can do tattoos, one of your friends. God, it really felt like you were getting jabbed in the heart over and over again.

But you had no right to jealous at all. She wasn’t yours to be jealous about.

Cat looked around, making sure nobody was looking- but held eye contact with you for a moment before she leaned in and kissed Ellie on the lips. That’s when you finally looked away, continuing to fix Gemini’s saddle.

Gemini was tied to the fence by the barn and was close to the fence. Other horses lined up beside his right side. Today’s group was getting to leave for the morning. Earlier than usual.

Mondays are rough.

“How long have they been together now?” Jesse asked when he walked over to you as you were packing up for patrol. You turned to look at him so you could have an actual conversation. He looked directly into your eyes, almost as if he was trying to figure you out. Jesse was someone who could see everything with one look. You kinda hated him for knowing so much about how you felt about Ellie without telling him much about it.

“…I wanna say 2 months, but we both know it’s been longer than that.” You replied with a frown, continuing to distract yourself by finishing to prep Gemini for patrol.

“Y/n, could you stop looking so miserable? It’s starting to bum me out.”

You chuckled lightly, finally stepping away from Gemini and decided to lean against the wooden fence beside your horse. Jesse decided to the same, and he leaned against it with you. You looked down at your hands, deciding to pick at your cuticles just so you wouldn’t look at the couple. “Why don’t you look just as miserable as me? Didn’t Dina break up with you? Again.”

“Ouch, you really know how to turn on certain emotions.”

“I’m serious. Like, i haven’t been broke up with, yet here i am…” You paused, you stopped picking at your cuticles just to look across the street, where the couple was. Happily minding their business. Ellie and Cat were talking and laughing sweetly. Again, with that pain in your chest. “Utterly heartbroken.”

Jesse patted you on the back, it was his way of comforting you since he had no idea how else to help. “It won’t get easier. One moment you think you’re stronger than whatever you’re feeling but then… you realize it doesn’t matter how good you hide it. If you keep on hiding it, the pain will get to you before you can express those feelings properly.”

“I’m gonna be honest Jesse… I have no idea what you mean by that.”

“Of course you don’t…” He mumbled with a laugh. Again he patted you on the back and pushed himself off the fence. “Think about it clearly.” He then walked off, somewhere towards Maria and some other adults.

Again, you and Gemini were left alone together.

You couldn’t help but think about what Jesse brought up earlier. What did he mean by that? You’re not sure how to process what he meant. Either you were completely clueless- or Jesse tried to be all wise but failed.

“Y/n! Come over here.” You heard Maria’s voice, which broke you from your trance. You left Gemini tied to the post as you walked over to Maria and some other people. Mila and Benji smirk at you as you walk closer. Mila and Benji are your close friends and have been for a while. Though you haven’t seen them lately because of work. Everyone is extra busy lately. Mostly.

“Look who finally decided to join us.” Benji remarked as he wrapped his arm around you once you were close. He pulled you closer and walked towards Maria’s table that was used for placing maps for patrol.

You pushed him off of you gently and made a grossed out face at him. “You really stink, Benji. When was the last time you took a shower?”

Benji only smiled and raised his left arm up to smell his armpit and his clothes too. “It’s my natural musk, all the ladies love it.”

You and Mila looked at each other simultaneously. It was as if you were on the same wavelength. Both of your rolled your eyes at him. “As a lady, i will be speaking for everyone when i say you smell nasty.” Mila exposed truthfully while crossing her arms on her chest.

“Hold up, you’re not a lady, you’re a brute.”

“Oh, i’m the brute? You haven’t taken a proper shower in weeks. Jumping into lakes and rivers don’t count.”

“Says who? It’s more natural,”

“More like nasty.”

You ignored the two bickering idiots and moved closer to the table where Maria was. “What were you thinking Maria?” You asked, looking down at the map of the area. It stretched out for miles.

She looked up at you. “Have you ever done the urban trails? It leads up to the dam checkpoint.”

You shook your in response. “I haven’t. Do you want me to take that route? You should pair me up with someone who’s done that trail then.”

There’s a lot of trails, so there are at least 10 or 15 trails you’ve never done before. These type of trails are the longer routes. The reason you haven’t done those routes is because Tommy isn’t that confident in you to take on the longer routes.

But now it was different, not only are you older but more capable of handling yourself more than anyone.

“You’re right…” Maria paused, she was thinking, trying to slowly put some pieces together. “But there isn’t anyone on duty right now who knows the trails that i can think of.”

Jesse’s head perked up at what she said, smirking at you from across the table. He was right next to Maria like always. She trusts him a lot because he was also a natural leader. “Actually, Ellie knows that trail.”

You instinctively felt your heartbeat start to speed up, and your face started to warm up at his insinuation. You knew what he was doing. “Ellie and Dina are already planning on running their routes on chestnut drive. I can take a group and we’ll figure it out together.” You intervened, giving Jesse a look that said, ‘shut up’.

“No, Jesse is right. You and Ellie can take the urban trails. It’ll be much faster with you two clearing that area. We can’t send a group to one trail- especially not now when we’ve been getting reports of infected in the southern territories- the opposite direction of urban trails.”

You sighed, knowing that her words were always final. You scratched the back of your neck- feeling an inch. “I’ll go let Ellie know. Jesse talk to Dina.” You give him another glare and just he smiled, sending a wink your way.

You turned around, looking over at where Cat and Ellie were still talking. Lately, things have been awkward between you two. It may have something to do with the fact that you maybe- just maybe that you were avoiding her.

It didn’t really matter, Ellie hasn’t noticed anything differently anyways. Or so you assumed.

“Ellie!” At the sound of your voice she quickly turned away from her girlfriend. She dropped Cats hands and fully turned to face you. Her full attention was now on you. But of course, you didn’t notice that either. “Assignments! Let’s go, kiss your girlfriend goodbye and get your ass on shimmer!”

It was getting easier to hide your feelings, even your distain for the couple and how you felt about Ellie.

“Fuck… Alright, just give me a minute!”

You gave her a thumbs up, and turned away. You walked towards your horse, seeing Jesse waiting there for you. He must have finished talking with Dina. He held out a hunting rifle and a shotgun towards you. He looked between both guns. “Which one do you prefer?” He questioned.

You smiled, looking at both guns. “Quite the tough question, Jes.”

Ellie walked up behind you, looking right over your shoulder. She was so close to you. Your breathe hitched lightly as she observed both guns. “I think you’re more of a rifle girl. It suits you more than a shotgun.”

Jesse grinned, and his eyes sparkled for a moment when you looked at him. He then nodded, agreeing with what Ellie had said. “That settles that then.” He held the rifle for you to take, which you did. Jesse then passed the shotgun to Ellie.

With the help of the sling, you tossed the rifle over your shoulder. Ellie was staring at you, trying desperately to get your attention without having to say anything but you were occupied with Gemini once again. She sighed, and decided to just start the conversation.

“So… Where have you been lately? I haven’t seen you around, not even in the mess hall.” Ellie hesitated but walked over to Gemini’s mane. You were by his saddle, and when you stared into her eyes it felt like it was only you and her. Instinctively, your eyes trailed from her eyes to her lips. You couldn’t help it. She was so close. Ellie shyly looked down at her hands as she continued to mess with Gemini’s mane. “I’ve uh… Missed hanging out with you. We still haven’t finished our halo campaign.”

You bit the inside of you cheek, and decided that laughing nervously would help ease your nerves. “Yeah, i’m sorry about that. I asked Maria for more assignments since… You know, i have nothing better to do.”

Ellie wanted to say something but held her tongue. She wanted to say something to continue your conversation but you interrupted her instead. “Listen, Maria wants you and me to handle the urban trails. Pretty sure we have to replace Danny and Axel at the dam checkpoint …”

“You and i,” Ellie corrected suddenly, making you stare at her in disbelief and confusion. She gave you a smirk. “You said ‘you and me’ but that isn’t proper grammar.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at her. “Fuck off, Williams. Did you even listen to a word i said?”

“So, we’re back to last names? Since when?”

“Since you decided to be a grammar queen, you dick.”

“Woah! Language, there are children around, L/n!”

“The only child i see is you.” You replied with a happy smile on your face. You and Ellie climbed on your horses and waited by the gates. Ellie continue to talk to you like nothing was wrong- well, not like she knew if there was something wrong anyways. You kept stuff to yourself.

You missed this. You missed hanging out with Ellie. You just… Missing having her by your side, kicking the worlds ass together but now… Ellie was with Cat. Her relationship put a wedge on your friendship. You felt farther away to Ellie then ever.

Everything has changed. Which sucked because you weren’t sure how to deal with the changes. It was all going by so fast. You just wished everything was different. It was selfish of you but… You didn’t care.

“Y/n, you with me?” Ellie snapped you out of your thoughts. She looked back at you as the gates opened.

You nodded. “Always.”

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (1/?)

This is dedicated to @peachworthy - my plan is to work on this when I can. I was going to try and write a full long thing (all puns intended) but thought it might be fun to just do sporadic bits instead!

“As you can see, it’s a pretty nice place…” Mr. Super Tall and Super Handsome and Super-Out-of-Link’s-League tells him as he walks him around the place. Link’s only been half listening because he’s been trailing behind this uniquely sexy giraffe of a man for about half an hour now and it’s been hard to not just…eat him up with his eyes.

Link’s lived in LA for about two years now and while he’s seen some attractive people, they all pale in comparison to…

…oh gosh, he’s forgotten his name again! Not a good thing to do when being toured by your potential roommate to be. Although Link’s pretty sure his current tour guide is just being nice.

No way he’s seriously considering letting Link move in. First of all, Link is a late in life college student trying to get a film degree. Second, this guy could have anyone live with him.

Anyone.

The fact he even needs a roommate is staggering. After all, this place is already furnished. It’s clear he’s lived here for a while now – so the need for someone else-? Link doesn’t get it.

But he sure as heck can’t stay on campus anymore. It’s embarrassing. Most of the other students there think he’s a professor as it is; and bunking with kids half his age has been a nightmare.

Not because he can’t identify with them per say, but because he just-? He wants to interact with people on the same wavelength as him.

And no way is this Greek God and he on the same wavelength. No doubt the guy’s an actor. Almost everyone in LA is. And, no doubt, the guy has probably had some gigs. Several, if the house is anything to go by…

Maybe he lost a role recently? Maybe that’s why he needs the extra income? It’s the only thing Link can think of and he’s stupid enough to voice that, “It is a nice place, man, but I don’t see how I’ll be much help. What you’ve got here looks pretty well lived in. Take it you’ve been here solo for some time and I’m not sure how-?”

“I have,” Handsome admits and oh, that southern drawl. It makes Link think of home. How perfect can one man be? “And, frankly, I don’t need a roommate, but I’d like a roommate.”

“For parts? Like the Black Market?” Link can’t help but joke, and the guy throws his head back and laughs and oh, no…

…Yeah, Link can’t live with this man. It hasn’t even been a full day and Link is practically already in love with him. And thinking of the ‘him’ he forces himself to sheepishly ask, “Um, I, ah, forgot your name again...”

“It’s Rhett.”

Of course it is.

Rhett is such a romantic name.

Rhett Butler immediately springs to mind and Link sighs, “Look, Rhett – like I said, it is a nice place, but-!”

“I tell you what I’d expect in rent?” he asks and when he lists the price, Link decides that – besides being insanely attractive – that the guy is just insane in general.

The rent is cheap. Far, far cheaper than Link expected and it must show on his face, because Rhett shrugs, “Look, Link – I can’t say what it is, but I gotta feeling about you. I’ve met with a couple of potential roommates and, honestly, none of them have gone this far. I haven’t let ‘em. But there’s something about you…”

“My natural charm?” Link asks, but he’s sort of giggly and weird when he does and oh, gosh – why is he so awkward? Isn’t he too old for this? Don’t you reach a certain age and awkwardness just…drops off?

But apparently not and, apparently, Rhett isn’t turned off by it, because he gives him a warm grin, “Might be.”

“Rhett…”

“Might be the accent to be honest,” he confesses, seeming almost shy and that should be illegal, because it just highlights how cute he is, “I’m from North Carolina and it just-!”

“Hey!” Link perks up, “Me too!”

“Really?” Rhett gushes and Link nods, “Yeah, Buies Creek.”

“Oh! My family and I almost moved there! Ended up in Charlotte instead!”

“Wow! Crazy! What are the odds!” And Link hates every cliched thing coming out of his mouth right now, but he can’t seem to stop and Rhett just looks so damned pleased.

As if his feeling about Link is right on the money and Link wishes it was, but this can’t possibly work. Can it? And just as Link is about to voice that, Rhett suddenly looks…apprehensive. Fidgety.

And Link’s caught a bit off guard by it, because – up until now – he’s been so cool. Cool and collected. But now Rhett runs a hand through his thick mane of hair and sighs as if a great weight is upon him, “Ah…actually, I, ah, well – I forgot…”

Here it is. Link’s been waiting for this. The big secret. The big reason someone as amazing as Rhett would need someone like him. Maybe it is the Black Market thing. Link has some nice organs. Real juicy. Maybe revealing his background has made the big guy feel bad – like he can’t carve up a fellow North Caroliner.

Rhett rocks on his heels, “I told you, none of the other potential roommates made it this far and…there’s a reason for that. Even the one or two I kinda considered…well, I, um, I told them what I do for a living and that’s when things sort of fell apart…”

…oh shit. He IS a Black Market organ dealer!

Link’s Adam’s apple bobs as he looks around skittishly. The house is big and they’re alone in it. He’s been so distracted by how hot Rhett is that he hasn't even thought about that fact.

Until now.

What if the other potentials didn’t get this far because they got cut up beforehand? Maybe the whole roommate thing is a farce! Maybe it’s a con! A con to draw people in and-!

“I work in the entertainment industry.”

Link blinks. Blinks and feels like the dumbest man on planet earth as he says, “Well, yeah. You and half of LA. Heck, I’m here trying to get into film myself! Do some directing or sound editing or-!”

“No,” Rhett says firmly, smoothly, meeting Link’s eyes head on as he says in a full deep register, “When I say I work in the industry, I mean it. I’ve, um, had a pretty healthy and…and long career…”

“Really?” Link asks, eyes wide behind his glasses, “Have I seen anything you’ve-?”

“Doubt it,” Rhett interrupts with a humorless huff, “You don’t seem the type. But then,” he eyes him thoughtfully, “I’ve been surprised before…”

Link doesn’t know why he’s being so cagey about this, “What’ve you-?”

“My resume is…” Rhett finally looks away, as if he can’t bear to look at Link when he says it, “…of the adult variety.”

“The adult-?” Link starts to repeat and then it clicks. It clicks and it hits him so hard over the head it’s like a physical blow. The house, the handsomeness – the…everything.

Rhett looks back at him, jaw firmly set as he speaks, “Look, it’s not that I’m ashamed of what I do. Far from it. It’s just a job and it’s one I happen to be good at. But it’s also one that people in polite society aren’t too keen on and considering you’re from my home state you might-!”

“Porn?” Link croaks out and he feels a little like he might faint, “You’re a porn star?”

Rhett just kind of shrugs and the reason Link feels lightheaded has nothing to do with his shock at the man’s career and everything to do with the fact that Link has only seen a few porn films and none of them have ever stared someone so breathtakingly beautiful. The idea that Rhett has been in something like that…

Heat suffuses through Link’s system with equal mixes of lust and shame. Lust because, well, look at Rhett and shame because Link doesn’t want to just view the man as a sex object, Granted, that’s kind of his job, but it just seems…rude.

While Link doesn’t know Rhett well, he knows him well enough at this point to say he’s just a regular guy. An extremely gorgeous regular guy, but a regular guy all the same.

Thinking of him in simple black and white just doesn’t do him justice. So he’s a porn star. So what? He’s nice and this place is amazing and the rent suggested is fantastic and-!

“Take it by your silence you’re gonna decline…”

“No!” Link cuts in quickly and Rhett’s eyes shoot to him, wide and amazed, and Link feels a little sense of superiority at that. At catching this giant off guard, “No, uh – your…your profession isn’t a problem.”

“It’s not?”

“Well, I mean,” Link looks around once more, "You don’t-? You don’t film here, do you?”

The laugh that booms out of Rhett at that makes Link’s toes curl with pleasure, “Nah, man. This place is sacred. Like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

“And…” Link scratches at the back of his head, “And you won’t, like…bring over a-a partner or partners and-!”

“Don’t have one,” Rhett admits and then the sexiest crinkles form around his eyes, “Although I gotta say, that’s about the slickest way anyone’s ever asked me if I was single…”

The heat from before returns full blast, no doubt coloring Link’s cheeks pure red and it comes completely from shyness, an emotion he is much more familiar with than most, “Oh, no! I-I wasn’t-!”

“Think you were asking if I do some weird sex shit here in the house of the personal variety and, again, no. You work in my field you kinda lose a bit of a taste for it.”

“For sex?”

Rhett nods, “And for a lot of things. It’s like I said – I'd like a roommate. Mainly ‘cause I’ve been feeling a little…disconnected of late. Feel like I need someone in my life who isn’t in the business. Someone I can just, y’know…” his shoulders roll and he bobs about a bit, clearly bashful, “…jam with.”

“Someone on your wavelength…” Link whispers and suddenly, Rhett’s idea that Link might be someone worth keeping around feels totally legitimate. Because Link is suddenly reciprocating it and then some. Because Link's starting to have a feeling about him too.

A feeling that this could work.

It really could.

And, this in mind, Link asks, “When can I move in?”

[imnotwolverine]

Soldier on

Syverson x reader

I received a request and made an attempt at writing a Syverson x reader one-shot for you all to enjoy. It’s sad, angsty, includes violence, smut, the whole lot. Ye be warned. 

Thank you @scorpionchild81, I hope you enjoy it! 

Warnings: smut, angst, attempted rape, all the massive feels

--

From your perspective:

You fumbled with the keys in your hand as your heels tapped on the hot concrete. Even now, at this late hour, the Texan air was smouldering, bright stars gleaming like small freckles on the skin of the pitch black heavens above. 

Should you just..go back? It wasn’t that bad right? If he could hook up with someone..then so could you. You halted and looked back at the neon lit bar you just left, the sound of a jukebox playing and people talking top-lung.

You could visualise it. The way he now looked hungrily into the eyes of that girl, his full lips turning into a wolfish grin as he towered over her with that big, bulky physique. The promise of a good night to follow, gleaming in his eyes.. No. Don’t think about it.

Taking a shivery breath you grasped the keys in your palm tighter. You were glad you had stayed sober that night so you could at least leave at any moment you pleased. It’s not like he would be going with you anyways. ‘STOP IT!’ You scolded yourself, muttering under your breath as your legs automatically strode to the parking lot around the corner.

There were but a few cars parked on the lot, their dusty hoods mere shadows in the poor light of the solitary streetlight. Your eye peered at some men leaning into what happens to be your car, their cigarettes burning up bright yellow in the darkness. Great, you thought, quickly looking over your shoulder to see if anyone else was around. Under the bright lights of the bar you could spot a couple that were practically eating each other on the sidewalk, their arms entangled and their clothes barely covering their private parts. Immediately you felt your heart flip with jealousy again, your fingers becoming even more sweaty around your car keys.

‘Fine.’ You growled, definitely not opting for going back inside the bar, but instead taking large, purposeful strides towards the car. You could hear the hood of your car let out a sigh as one of the men got up, his face barely visible in the low light. ‘Evenin’ gents.’ You tried, casually moving past their large bodies to reach for the car door. ‘Hello sugar.’ One of them purred in a husky voice. You didn’t twitch as you continued to reach the keys towards the car door. ‘Gotta ask you to find another place to hang out I’m afraid.’ You said, eyeing one of the gents who was still leaning into your car, his face menacing and his breath spiked with heavy liquor. ‘Oh don’t go.’ He playfully begged, his hand grasping your wrist, stalling further efforts to open the car door.

The man was leaning into the backseat door, his face mostly hidden behind a scruffy beard - nothing like Sy’s handsome full beard -, his figure a bit on the obese size, but making him still obviously much stronger than you. Around you his accomplices now closed in. Three men, all smelling of heavy liquor. Moonshine? Who knows. But it sure wasn’t good.

‘Maybe some other night. This sugar has to go now.’ You tried to keep your voice level as you wriggled to free your wrist. The man wouldn’t budge. ‘Hear that Lacy? She doesn’t want to play with us!’ He quickly snagged the keys from your hand before squaring up his shoulders, ready to stop you as you flailed at him. ‘HEY, those are mine! Give them back at once!’ You tried to shove him, reaching for your keys, but he had already thrown them to one of the others, your hands making no impression on him as you couldn’t even push him back a centimetre. ‘Now now. How about you be nice lil’ slut.’ He barked, pushing you with ease into the car door.

Fuck. Fucking shit. Fuck.

Your already sweaty hands immediately reached for your phone in your jeans’ back pocket, your pulse quickening to a gallop as you tried to keep an eye on all the men whom were now looming in closer and closer. As soon as you managed to squeeze your hand into the tight pocket you could feel a hand on your own. ‘Uh uh love. Not gonn’ happen.’ He all but whispered in your ear. Gosh he stank so bad. You felt bile come up, lungs heavy from both the humid Texan air and this whole situation. ‘Stop.’ You whimpered, losing your internal battle and giving in to fear. ‘Or what..hmm..lil’ skank?’ One of the others spoke, his voice much more boyish.

The man forcing you against the car door had now also taken the phone, letting it light up to its lock screen, holding it over their faces, his face turned into a sick grin. The pale green light of your screensaver offered some insight in the looks of the assailants. Two younger men, no older then 20 in worn t-shirts, and then there was the big burly men who was pinning you down and a man with a buzz cut in the far back, his eyes glistening dark in the low light. Buzz cut…army? Maybe..maybe he would help..? If you said the right…

Before you could finish your thought your pants were pulled down, eager hands cupping your buttocks, the calloused digits digging painfully through the cotton of your undies. ‘NO! FUCK OFF! GET OFF ME!’ A sudden burst of opposition coursed through you as you started to flail your nails into his face, making the man bounce back for a moment. Your legs tried to make a run for it, your hands trying to tug up your pants, but another pair of hands stopped you, digging evil nails into your soft skin. ‘Listen up bitch. You gonn’ be nice and quiet, ya?’ He slurred. It was one of the younger men, some of his teeth missing from the looks of it. Drug users. Oh man. This couldn’t get worse.

Panic filled your heavy lungs as you felt more hands traveling down your body, one pair squeezing your neck tight, whilst others tore at your t-shirt. You clenched your jaw, breaths coming in short and hard, tears burning up in the back of your eyes. ’NO!’ You roared, making another feverish attempt to be released, arms and legs kicking wildly around you. ‘You fuckin’ dogs.’ You bit as you managed to get out of the grasp of the pair of hands on your neck. A small victorious moment, that was, before you felt your legs being swiped away, your body quickly coursing to the gritty hard parking lot.

You smacked down hard, your head painfully landing on the black tar as feet started to kick you. You saw them dropping your phone, but you couldn’t move to get it. Low wails escaped your throat as you balled up your body in a futile attempt to protect yourself. ‘St..op..’ You breathed shakily, the punishing kicks removing all air from your lungs, your body searing with both adrenaline and fear. Folding your arms over your neck and face, you noted they did stop. Why?

‘HEY,’ A loud, rough voice barked from further up in the parking lot. You quivered, the pain crashing in hard as watery eyes peered at the figure in the distance, his form creating a strong silhouette against the single light source straight behind him. Oh please let it be him. Sy..sy..

—

From his perspective:

She had left. Again. It was becoming a strange habit of her to leave in the middle of a fun night out. At least. It sure had been fun up to that point, he thought, his eyes tracing her brown mane all the way out the door. Darkness had nearly swallowed her when he saw her turn around. Was she coming back?

‘Hey sexy. Whatcha thinkin’?’ The kitten in his arms purred. Sure she was a fine thing. A true southern belle, with pretty blond locks and a heartshaped face, her dainty fingers making enticing circles over his red t-shirt. ‘Nothin’.’ He said, forcing his lips to turn into a smile as he looked down at her. He pulled the little vixen closer to his chest, his eyes immediately peering back at the door. She was gone.

Well, might as well make the most of the night.

His hands travelled languidly over the blondes back, before settling on her curvy behind. Her small arms had now also wrapped around him, leaving him alone with his thoughts for a moment. The bar was busy this night, almost crowded. Which wasn’t all that surprising. He and his brothers-and-sisters-in-arms had just gotten back from a round trip, and that was always worth a celebration.

Although it’s not the same without her.

Some racket sounded from outside, a few people hastily walking out the door to see what was going on. Sy’s curiosity peaked, his arms unwrapping from the dainty thing in his arms.

‘No..stay. There’s enough people to sort out whatever’s happenin’ there big bear.’ The woman purred, pulling him back towards her. He groaned, giving in to her request, his eyes keeping a close watch on the people who were standing outside. Something had happened. ’Come..let’s have some..real fun.’ Her sultry voice breathed against his bearded chin. He looked down, seeing her tug at his belt and eyeing at the toilets in the back.

His hazy mind couldn’t think straight as his eyes gave a quick check on the people around them. Everyone else was too preoccupied with the situation outside or continuing their drunk chatter. He couldn’t help but give her offer a think-over. It had been months after all. His hand cupped the back of her head as he leaned in for a kiss. A kiss she eagerly accepted, her teeth biting into his bottom lip playfully.

Before long he found himself in one of the toilets, his head slightly dazed as the pretty blond was pulling at his shirt, kissing his naked flesh beneath it. He let out a pent up breath. Fuck. What was he even doing. His mind was saying no..but his body was definitely saying “yes”. He felt himself harden, his erection straining against his jeans, his head falling back as he felt her lips blazing over his hot skin.

His phone buzzed.

Immediately he reached for his back pocket to answer, his hand stopped by the blond vixen. ‘I’m sure THAT can wait.’ She breathed, daintily pushing the phone back in its pocket. He let out a quivery breath as she pulled up his shirt further, her nose now moving through his curly chest hair. ‘Ooh you’re such a bear…rawr!’ She squealed, eagerly grabbing at his toned chest. He couldn’t think straight, a slight worry creeping over his back as he mulled it over.

She had left the bar mere minutes before that racket outside. Had something happened?

He felt his breath quicken, become more harsh, his curiosity burning as he felt his phone sitting silent in his back pocket.

No. She always managed on her own. She’s fine. It probably was just a drunk idiot who had passed out. Or a bar fight. And she was now driving home. Alone.

Alone.

‘Fuck.’ He groaned, feeling the eager blond tugging at his belt as she lowered herself on her knees. ‘No. Stop darlin’. It’s….argh..Fuck.’ His words evaporated in the humid air as she released his cock from its restrains. ‘Doesn’t look like you want to stop.’ She purred, wrapping her hand around his erection. He let out an involuntary moan. It had been so long since he was last touched like that. Four whole fucking months. He let his head fall back, his breath hitching as she worked her magic hands in slow strokes. ‘Mmm.’ She hummed, her wet lips starting a new trail over his abs. This time going south.

His phone buzzed again.

Before the woman could stop him mid-track, he stepped back, pushing his back against the tiled wall and holding a steady hand on her shoulder to keep her in place. She halted her administrations as she looked up in confusion, seeing Sy’s eyes flicker nervously over the phone in his hand, his other hand reaching for the stall door. Before turning the lock, he quickly pushed his erection in his pants, single handedly zipping it back up, leaving his belt unbuckled.

‘I’m so sorry doll. Looks like an emergency.’ He wrought his eyebrows together, giving her an apologetic look. She looked at him with confusion, still squatted down on the dirty floor, barely registering as he strode back to the bar with great haste.

Sy swung open the door, his thumb sliding over the screen to answer the call. His heart was beating wildly. She was calling him. Maybe..To speak? Invite him over? Was she near? He looked over his shoulder as the line crunched through it’s bad connection. All he saw was a bunch of people sitting on the sidewalk, their cigarettes burning in the thick night air.

‘Good evening. You are speaking with the North Texas State Hospital. Am I speaking with ..uh..Syverson?’ A female voice that was not hers. Suddenly the world fell away from him, his veins growing cold as the sweat on his hot back made him shiver. His jaw clenched as he took a strained breath. ‘Yes. Speaking.’ ‘I’m sorry to inform you…’

—

His heart thundered as his legs carried him through the long grey hallway, his boots still sticking from the alcohol glazed floor in the bar…or was it just his heavy legs that felt like pure lead right now? He had balled up his fists so tightly the skin had turned white, his eyes nervously scanning over the signages. Room 201.4, room 201.5…room 201.6. He halted, his boots squeaking.

Breath Sy. Breath man.

He opened his hand, reaching for the door to push it open. Room 201.6. He had repeated it in his head a hundred times over as he had made his way here. But now he was standing here he was hesitant. He peered at his fingers on the pale green door. 201.6. This is it. Taking one more deep, forceful breath he pushed open the door, immediately seeing what he came for.

You.

Or whatever they had left of you. He quickly made way to your bed, feeling another shiver run over his back as his breath choked. It really was you. Half your face bandaged up, your skin bruised and scratched, tubes running from your arms. But also that deep auburn hair, those sweet apple shaped cheeks.

‘No..’ He breathed, forgoing all protocol as he leaned into you and pressed his lips against your forehead. ‘No..’ He cried, hot tears burning in his eyes. ‘Fuck.’ 

He pushed himself up ever so slightly to take another look at you. You were still every bit as pretty. Just like in his dreams. But unlike in his dreams he hadn’t protected you. Hadn’t been there for you. Hadn’t confessed what he had felt for so long.

‘Bug…’ He breathed, a sole tear running down his cheek before disappearing in his thick beard. ‘Oh god. I am so sorry. I’m so sorry. If only I had…’

Your hand wrapped around his neck.

He looked up, being greeted by your half opened eyes. ‘Sy..’ You croaked, your voice laced with sleep, your eyes already falling shut again.

‘Oh sweetness. Rest. It’s okay. I’ll be here. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait…’ He breathed, a soft relief coming over him as he noticed the slightest smile on your lips.

‘I …love you.’ He croaked, carefully looking at you as your face relaxed again in deep sleep. Yes. This time he wouldn’t leave your side.

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 8

WARNING. HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Richie watched as the sun sank steadily towards the horizon, lighting the sky red, orange, yellow, begging the clock to tick just a bit quicker so he could be free from his job. Britney and Mason, douchebag 1 and douchebag 2, were chattering away like hormone-driven starlings right behind him rather than wiping down the counters like they probably should have been. It was 30 minutes until his shift was up and the flow of customers had more than ebbed by now. Normally, Richie wouldn't want his shift to ever end; normally meant he had Bev or Ben at his side to keep him from drowning himself in the backroom sink. Tonight, neither were here, so he was stuck with the two preppy assholes he was so desperately trying to tune out. On any other occasion the music leaking from the tinny speakers would have been enough to get him through the day, but tonight things were different and the radio was instead tuned to bark out the score of some sports game Richie couldn't care less about but had the one or two patrons (who were already served and seated) tilting one ears towards the sound in interest. If given the chance Richie would have been just fine talking with Britney and Mason; he didn't like them, not really, but his big mouth was begging to run after almost a straight 45 minutes of near-silence and professionalism, and the problem was that they didn't seem too fond of talking to him.

And so, Richie simply stood. And waited. And grew more and more bored out of his mind. His fingers began to drum against his chin which was rested on the palm of his left hand which was- in turn- propped up by his elbow on the slightly-sticky surface of the counter. He fought the urge to tap his foot and he fought the urge to hum or dance or bop his head all because he didn't think he could stand knowing the other two would judge him for it. Judgement wasn't often something that bothered him but the memories of last night's talk with Beverly kept trying to pop up into his brain. Yes, that was another reason he was desperate for something to do- Richie just couldn't stop thinking about that talk. The door to the cafe popped open and, golly, it was Richie's lucky day- in stepped one bite-sized brunette with a tentative scowl on his face full of freckles. Just like that, Richie perked up again, his smile splitting his face right in two and his stomach beginning a circus performance consisting of backflips and pirouettes.

"Well, wouldja lookit that!" Snapping his fingers, Richie leaned forwards and across the counter to greet Eddie with his bright eyes, "Spaghetti-man, welcome! Just in time, I was tempted to throw myself into one of the ovens!" Eddie's scowl vanished and instead came a confused little grin that looked pretty goofy and melted away the last of any problems the world had to face.

"Christ, Rich, that's a little dramatic," Eddie pulled up to the counter and began to say something else but, well, Richie was a little distracted taking in the sight of him alone. It had been nearly 24 hours since they'd interacted and, after his little talk with Bev, Richie couldn't really get Eddie out of his mind. Fitted in a fluffy coral-toned knitted sweater and a pair of black jeans, he was looking adorable. Imagining Eddie with some accessory like a bracelet or black nails was even cuter- suddenly, Richie felt very much like Bev said she did whenever she went digging through his wardrobe. Eddie quirked a brow and snapped Richie right out of his thoughts.

"Sorry? What was that? My head's still a lil' out of it tonight," He straightened his back, blinking his scattered thoughts away and cracking his knuckles as if he were being thrown into a cage match, "Can I get you something to drink? To eat? A seat at the bar, maybe? I could use someone to talk to, I feel like I'm going crazy around here," As he said 'crazy' Richie spun a finger around his temple, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

"I actually just came by to say hello, since... y'know. The party and... and all that shit. We had a deal, didn't we?" Eddie took up Richie's offer for a barstool, leaping up onto it and folding his hands on the counter. He glared down at the tabletop as he spoke, bashful. It warmed Richie's heart and he smiled even wider, clasping his hands and holding them up to the side of his face; his eyelashes battered wildly and then he was the Southern Belle.

"Well, my oh my, ain't you a doll? Stoppin' by just to get a glance at lil' ole' me?" With another roll of his eyes (that seemed to be an Eddie Kaspbrak trademark) Eddie finally looked up again and rested his cheek on one hand.

"I regret it now, Trashmouth. You're gonna make my ears bleed." Laughing, Richie spun on his heel, briefly catching Britney and Mason's gazes and then went straight for the cups to whip up a signature drink for his friend, even if it was against company policy both to create anything original and to give out anything without it being paid for. Who gives a shit, Richie thinks to himself, and gets right to it.

"How's a mocha sound, Eddie Spaghetti?"

"It's- It's fine, but how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? Especially not with, like-" Eddie didn't need to finish his sentence, nor did Richie have to actually see him to know he was passing discreet glances at the two coworkers most likely listening in. Eddie was embarrassed about his silly little nickname. Challenge accepted- Richie had plenty of those. Flipping switches, tapping buttons, spinning around the kitchen with practiced ease, Richie pumped out a perfect dark chocolate mocha with steamed vanilla milk and caramel sauce drizzled artistically across the mountain of whipped cream on the top. It was a masterpiece- no surprise there.

"And here you are, Eduardo." the cup was set down and Eddie gave Richie an awkward, thankful smile. "Enjoy it- and here, dip one of these in it," Sliding open one side of the bakery treats display case Richie pulled out a slice of banana bread, "It's fantastic. Like, seriously, Eds. Ten out of fucking ten."

"When did your shift start today? I didn't know you worked," Eddie's cheeks flushed a soft red thanks to his own curiosity and he hid it with a sip from his drink. Richie shrugged,

"Nine. I was exhausted. Had to steal a coffee or two throughout the course of the day like the rebel I am." Richie reached up, popping the collar of today's brightly coloured shirt (pink, blue, yellow, purple, an amalgamation of triangles and circles and squares) and hunching his shoulders in, grimacing dramatically and sauntering back and forth like a biker dude who smoked a pack of cigarettes a day and loved the road more than anything else, "I run 'gainst the law, dawg," Eddie cracked a toothy smile and let out a dancing chuckle, "I rob gas 'tations and pick pockets for a livin'," Richie reached a hand up and began to fuss with his hair in an attempt to transform it into an impromptu mullet. Bringing the attention towards his curls Eddie's face screwed up but his smile still lingered.

"You need a fuckin' haircut, dude, like- wow. It's like a whole mop, Richie," And then Eddie's eyes grew wide and he recoiled, "Did you make my drink with that mane exposed? What if- what if you got your stupid hair in it? You know you're committing a guideline 37 health code violation? It's literally against the law not to wear a hair net, you know. And did you wash your hands?" Richie flipped his collar back down as Eddie spoke, letting out a huff and stumbling over to the sink to jam his hands under the faucet. "I heard people's hands carry up to almost five million different kinds of bacteria. You'd better not be putting that into people's-" Richie's hands now soaking wet, he lifted them and flicked them violently in Eddie's direction. The shorter boy cut himself off and let out a startled cry as he was assaulted by these droplets of water, half-jumping-half-falling out of his chair to scramble out of range. "You asshole! This sweater is a gift from my mom you know, and it could get damaged or-" Someone in the shop barked out a hissing 'shhh!' and Eddie went silent, his face bright red.

"The patrons request silence, my lo- friend, jeezly-crow," Richie dried his hands on the towel just near the sink, acting like he hadn't almost called Eddie 'my love' (he only didn't say it because of his coworkers and Eddie's pride) and returned to standing across from him. As soon as he was near enough Eddie delivered a half-assed punch to his forearm that was more teasing than actually harmful.

"That was quite the show," Britney, for once in her life, regarded Richie with a glitter of amusement in her eyes, and then glanced over at Eddie who was now smiling sheepishly and clearly dreading meeting a new person. Britney stuck out a hand, "Nice to meet you... Eduardo, was it?"

"Ah- Eddie, actually, my name is Eddie- Richie is just... just stupid sometimes, sorry," Rapidly, Eddie wiped his hands on the front of his shirt and took Britney's hesitantly within his own. Only Richie noticed the way his brows flicked a little closer together- Eddie was uncomfortable. That much was obvious.

"It's part of my charm, isn't-"

"Oh my God, I know, right? He's such a goofball!" With a horribly dopey grin, Britney pushed at Richie's shoulder and let out a high-pitched titter, "Imagine having to work with him every day!" Both boys let out an awkward chuckle, sharing a glance that said a multitude of different things; Who the hell is this chick? and Well she's just a little rude. and Can she maybe leave us alone? and many, many other things as well. "So, Eds- can I call you that?-" Britney didn't give him a chance to protest even though he wanted to, "How long have you and Richard been friends? How'd you meet him?" Britney leaned in just beside Richie, basically elbow to elbow as she crossed her arms and leaned into them to- oh- everything clicks together just like that, just as Britney uses her arms to push her chest higher. She was trying (and, well, failing, frankly) to flirt with Eddie. It seems that the asthmatic has yet to notice.

"Well, I... Not long, we just met a little over a week ago, I guess. It's actually kind of funny we-"

"Only a week?" Britney batted her lashes and Richie debated on telling her that her interrupting was not a good flirting technique, "But you two seem so close already! Gosh, I'd have guessed you two were high school friends at least!"

"Nope," Richie interjected before she could continue, "Just new friends. He's great, I'm great- that makes double great- Anyhow, Britney, we should let him enjoy his drink shouldn't-"

"Quite the mouth on him, huh?" Somehow, impossibly, Richie had failed to get her attention. Demanding all eyes on him was his specialty, but it was as if Britney had garnered some sort of tunnel vision, like a race horse with blinders perched on either side of it's head. Flirt racing. Place your bets. Richie felt a flame of jealousy and immediately squashed it down, feeling like some bitchy schoolgirl. "Chatter chatter chatter, all day long. How do you deal with it?"

"I don't, usually," Eddie was fiddling with the hem of one sleeve, his cheeks puffed out lightly in irritation. Who knew one man could have so much patience. "I... Well, I kind of like the chatter, actually. My own thoughts race so fast, it's cool to finally have someone who can keep up with them." Shrugging, Eddie turns to Richie and opens his mouth to speak, but, what a surprise, Britney beats him to it.

"I'm sure I could keep up with them, hon, if you gave me the chance," Britney let one eye fall down in a wink and Eddie gaped, frozen. His face drained of colour, a ghastly white that highlighted each and every one of his freckles- then it flooded red and he gripped the sides of the counter, looking at Richie again but this time as a silent plea, a save me oh my God- "What's your number?" She smiled, her rose red lips curling up in a way that could only be described as evil, "Or I can give you mine. I'd like to get to know you better." One part of Richie wanted to let this play out just because it was such a wonderful opportunity to watch Eddie flounder. The other part, the moral part, was screaming at him to intervene.

"Oh- I, I uh- I'm so-sorry I don't-" Eddie's tongue was tied. He swallowed hard and shook his head, his breath beginning to come in hitches, "I- I'm not interested I'm s-sorry if you got the- the wrong idea or-"

"Oh, come on, pretty please?" Britney leaned in closer and Eddie leaned away. "With a cherry on top? I promise it'll be fun-"

"Fuck off, Brit, he said no," Richie tried to keep his tone level, knowing that if he didn't his jealousy would show, but it seems he wasn't firm enough and that Britney didn't quite get the message. Eddie was still shaking his head, patting at his pockets as if searching for something, something to get him out of this more than awkward situation and turning up empty handed.

"We can maybe go to dinner tomorrow night or something like that, I'm a pretty fun girl when you get to-"

"Britney, that's enough!" Slamming one hand down on the countertop and raising his voice, all eyes turned to him- even those of the patrons, though this time no one hissed out a shush. After a beat of silence, Richie continued with a calmer tone, "You're clearly making him uncomfortable, I think you should just get to wiping down the counters or something so we can start closing up," Someone behind Richie scoffed; Mason. His other coworker. Rounding on him, Richie crossed his arms, trying to look somewhat intimidating in the face of this super-jock. "What's your problem, huh?"

"Well, I just think your little friend there's really makin' a mistake," Mason shifted his weight onto one foot, peering around Richie and staring the poor flustered Eds straight in the eye, "She really is a great chick, and... Well, you look like you could use a ride like her." Eddie's jaw dropped and his face went redder. He looked as if he were about to pass out, and Richie was stunned all the same.

"Jesus Christ, man, you can't just say that! What the hell's wrong with you?" Richie took a step forwards, glaring even harder but Mason wasn't deterred, wasn't afraid, was still dead set on either picking on Eddie or maybe actually attempting to give some sort of skewed advice.

"She'll do nearly anything you want if you ask nice," Britney was smiling though she looked a little stunned herself by this show of boldness, "And it seems she likes you, too. You're her type- short, thin, kinda... well, kinda girly to be honest," Eddie stared down at the tabletop, fighting to control his erratic breathing and seeming to have given up on patting his pockets for- oh shit, his inhaler. Was Eddie having an asthma attack?

"Mason, you fucking idiot, give it a rest. Eddie isn't interested. Leave him the fuck alone!" Richie was growing irritated- something about Mason felt off today. Usually the boy didn't outright pick on other people, he was always at least subtle about it.

"Oh, shit-" Mason let out a little chuckle, and stepped around Richie to approach the counter, "Unless- wait, unless you're not into her?" Richie was so close to slamming a fist across Mason's stupid face. After years of not understanding why everyone called his own face punchable, Richie finally got it. Some people just looked like good boxing practice.

"No fucking shit Sherlock of course he isn't into-"

"Unless you're some sort of fairy?"

Oh, the silence that followed this statement was suffocating. It was as if a thick blanket of quiet had throttled the room; Eddie's hitching breaths had stopped- in fact, so had his breathing altogether. His eyes had hollowed out, his face had lost all colour for good this time, and his shoulders had jumped up to his ears. Britney's mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide, breath stolen away in a more figurative sense. Richie was entirely and utterly shocked. He had known Mason wasn't the ideal fella. He cheated on girlfriends and drank too much and stole things, but this- this was... more than Richie had expected. It took a lot for Richie to dislike someone and he disliked both him and sort of Britney for quite the big book of reasons; but downright homophobia was not in his book until today.

"What. The fuck." Richie's voice had gone low, dangerously low. Mason turned to face him instead, his eyes dancing with quite the colorful array of emotions yet somehow appearing haunted, dead, all at the same time. If Richie had to get all poetic and describe it he'd say those eyes were reminiscent of an ocean- chaotic in the crashing of the waves, and yet endlessly empty. He was smiling wide. Proud. Like a shark. Eddie was still silent.

"Maybe I've got things wrong, maybe that was wrong," Mason held his hands up defensively, and Richie made the mistake of letting him continue, "Maybe... Well maybe he's not a fairy." A pause, blood thrumming loudly in his ears, "Maybe you are, Tozier. Maybe you're the little fag-"

"Shut up, Mason. Just shut the hell up." Mason leaned in, arms crossed, smile smug,

"You know, as sick as you are, it doesn't even surprise me." From Richie's right there was a gasp, a choked sound reminiscent of some form of words.

"Shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God-"

"I probably should have realized sooner, to be entirely honest. I mean, your hair, your clothes, your stupid nails and your stupider voices-"

"Richie- Richie I-" Richie's head was spinning with red hot rage. His hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, his teeth gritted tightly.

"You don't know a single thing about me you asshole,"

"I guess it's possible both you and your friend here mingle with that crowd, huh? Maybe the- Oh Jesus, maybe the reason you're so defensive is because the two of you are, like, boning or-" And, that was the final fucking straw. Richie didn't register his hands flying out to shove, hard, at Mason's chest until the boy was stumbling backwards, right over Britney taking them both to the ground. Richie was taller than Mason. Mason was heavier than Richie. With the right momentum, the right force and angle, he could- and did- send Mason almost flying.

"You're a fucking pig, you know that? Jesus- and to think I might actually, one day, maybe be able to tolerate your obnoxious ass here at work?"

"Rich- I c-can't-"

"Wow, I was naïve! Do you have a single scrap of human decency in that tiny frocking brain of yours or are you only powered by fucking and alcohol?"

"R-Richie! I-"

"Well guess fucking what, you dog? I've got quite the gift for-"

"Richie!!" Just as Richie was about to spit right onto Mason's stupid face Eddie dragged him out of his furious haze with a choking wheeze. His head snapped right, gluing onto Eddie's trembling form; one hand was grasping at his throat, the other supporting him on the countertop, shaky, pale. His face was as white as a sheet and he looked positively awful with his mouth open wide and his chest heaving painfully up and down. "Rich- I- I-I-I c-ca-can't breathe I-"

"Shit, Eds, I'm so sorry," Richie didn't waste a second in hopping over the counter, tearing off his work apron and tossing it to the floor, discarding his anger with it, "Come on, let's go, let's get you some fresh air okay? We can hurry to your place and get your inhaler, yeah?" Despite the hate, the disgust, Richie couldn't care less about how he must have looked as he took Eddie's hand and began to drag him to the door, half-drunken mocha and quarter of banana bread left for the other two to clean up. On their way out Richie was almost certain he heard one last snide comment, some slur, but his only focus right now was Eddie and the way he was sucking in rasping breaths like a drowning man. Rich shoved the door open with one shoulder, holding it ajar and letting Eddie pass by, resting a hand on his back as he did so and beginning to steer him down the sidewalk in no particular direction. "Where's your house? What's your address? Should I call Bill or Stan or- We have to get you to your inhaler, don't we?" Cowering like a hurt puppy, Eddie shrunk into Richie's side, still gripping and clawing and gasping. "W-What do I do where do I go what-"

"No-" Eddie forced the words out through gritted teeth, shaking his head and holding up a single finger- just give me a minute. The two came to a halt underneath the golden glow of a streetlamp just recently lit. The sky was a dark purple now, growing into blue.

"Eddie, don't you need you inhaler?" He shook his head again, and Richie screwed his brows together, "But your asthma, we can't risk it we should just-"

"NO, Rich- Just-" Eddie gasped, his eyes squeezing shut, "Just give me a- a fucking minute!" Richie shrunk away, pulling his arms to his chest and taking a tentative step back. Eddie turned, hiding his face, and continued to sputter, refusing Richie's help and planting one hand over his eyes and forehead. A minute passed- Richie tried to suggest once more that the inhaler was the safest option. Eddie denied it with another string of breaths and curses. At last, an agonizing three minutes later, the rise and fall of Eddie's chest grew steadier.

"Are... Are you sure you're alright? I... I don't know how asthma works but I don't think ignoring it is healthy." Risking being yelled at again Richie stepped forwards and placed a soft hand on Eddie's frail shoulder. For one quick moment those big brown eyes stared up at him and then they flicked away, down to their shoes instead. The smaller boy's ears burned red with shame.

"I don't-" Eddie scoffed, "I don't fucking- I don't fucking have asthma okay? I'm fine. I just- need to- calm the hell down."

"You- what? You don't have asthma? Then what was all that stuff at the party-"

"It was nothing, okay? It was just my stupid brain being all messed up! It's not asthma, jackass, so just- let it go, please. Jesus," Eddie shook off Richie's hand and took a few steps back, one hand rising to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He started to pace. "I can't believe that guy, what an asshole! And that girl, I just-" He cried out incoherently, too frustrated to piece together another phrase, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Eddie, I really am. I don't know what got into them- Mason especially, he isn't usually that bad and I... Well, that wasn't cool. Something was wrong about him tonight and- fuck," Richie brought his hands up to his face, underneath his glasses to scrub it vigorously, "I don't know, man, I'm so sorry." When Richie's hands fell again Eddie was looking at him, one hand on his hip, the other pressed against his chest, concerned. A pause.

"Are you okay?"

"What...? Of course I am, I'm not the one who almost choked on-"

"Then what the fuck did you think you were doing in there?" Eddie surged forwards and, this time, pushed Richie with both hands, though the outcome was very different and Richie hardly budged.

"Woah woah Eds what-"

"He could have hit you! Are you stupid or something? That guy would have had your fucking neck snapped before you could even do anything about it and you were just going to let it happen because he said some nasty shit to me?" Again, Eddie thumped a fist into Richie's chest, and then another.

"Of course Eddie he can't just-"

"People have said that shit to me all my life, Richie, you don't have to go risking your stupid neck because of it!" This time Richie caught Eddie by the wrist before his shove could connect, and then caught the other hand right after, holding them tight, "Let me go, Richie I can't deal with you being like this right now it's like you're not even listening to me and-"

"Eddie, calm down you're gonna throw yourself into another fit!"

"I'm okay, asshole, I'm not gonna break down and die right here and now because I'm angry at you! I-I get angry all the time I'm not some child- I-" Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, and then he spat out the words coated in acid, "You don't get to act all 'night in shining armor' just because some airheaded asshole wants to tell me what's good for me! I can take care of myself and I fucking hate it when people treat me like some stupid kid!" Eddie was gasping again, though this time he kept his mouth shut tight, trying to hide that he was struggling. He looked furious and terrified and hurt, a trio of emotion that Richie never wanted to see on his face again. Richie let out a sigh, closing his eyes and letting go of Eddie's wrists. As soon as he did Eddie crossed his arms and took a step back, averting his gaze. The tips of his ears were burning brighter.

"I... Eddie, I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to- to belittle you or talk down to you or anything like that. I just saw that you were getting badmouthed and I acted before I could really think."

"That doesn't surprise me, Trashmouth, you seem to be a little fucking impulsive." His voice strained, it was evident that Eddie was trying to reign in his temper, his 'asthma' already calming down once more. "Just... just please let me handle myself in the future. I can do it, I swear,"

"Yeah, I... I know you can. You're," Richie chuckled, and punched Eddie weakly, tentatively in the shoulder, "You're all sorts of spunk in one tiny package," Allowing himself to grin just for a split second Eddie slapped offense onto his face and wore a pout that would better fit a toddler.

"Are you calling me short? That's real low, Rich, that's just-"

"Low, is it? Yeah, I guess it is, huh?"

"Oh- fuck you!" Eddie rolled his eyes and turned away to conceal his smile as Richie let out his bright cackling, ripping through the silence of the night in a way that was more pleasant than Eddie thought possible. "God, you're just such an asshole, I hope you know that," He jabbed out an accusatory finger and Richie shot up his hands in mock surrender as if that finger were a gun.

"Don't shoot!" He hollered, stumbling a step back, "I have a wife and kids to get back to!" Eddie laughed, dropping his hand, and just barely stopped himself from asking if Richie had a husband to get back to instead. That was a can of worms for another day.

"I'm exhausted now thanks to you. You're like a baby, always whining and shit. Come on, Stan works and Bill's probably asleep by now. Wanna come watch a movie or something? I think we have a copy of Die Hard lying around." Eddie began to walk back in the direction of the cafe- Richie had taken the complete wrong path in their hasty escape- waving one hand for him to follow. Richie was now beaming, knowing just what to say to (hopefully) piss off Eddie even more.

"Oh, awesome! My favourite Christmas movie!" Eddie spun on him. Mission accomplished.

"What the fuck did you just say? Christmas movie?!"

[67midnightwriter]

Bygone: Teach Me

A/N: This was originally intended for @thoughtslikeaminefield​ for her birthday before the world exploded. It was intended to be a quick one shot, but as I was writing I fell in love with Dean, Leia, and Cas’ relationship, so this will end up being a snapshot series. It won’t be written in order, but eventually it will all be written lol. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for the deep beta!

Dean x OFC x Cas no destiel

Warning: feels and squirting

Smut

W/C: 4,269

There are many things Dean Winchester is good at: drawing out both pleasure and pain, locating both good drink and good food no matter where you plop him down, shrugging off compliments he’ll never believe he really deserves, and battling demons, of both the metaphorical and physical varieties. These are the things he (mostly) prides himself on, the base stones with which he builds the foundation of his character. Good or bad, they’re solid and steady through the storm of time. 

He won’t admit it, but among the other qualities lays the fact that he is a good teacher. One might even venture to say that he is an excellent teacher, with seemingly endless pools of kind patience, an uncanny ability to know how to reach even the most challenging and troubled of students, and oceans of knowledge from which to quench the thirst of the curious. It’s his unintentional personal oversight of this key flagstone that has birthed the confusion knotting his forehead currently. 

“Look Cas, I’m honored, really, I am...” Dean’s hand runs through his hair and then down his face, a nervous habit he’s picked up over the years, though he’s not sure where or when. He takes a deep breath before gathering the courage to continue. “But when I told you some things are better learned from watching, this...” He gestures to the room, unable to articulate the words he needs, unsure if any are actually needed, “is not what I meant.”

“I need you to teach me.” 

Dean tries to keep his face blank, but it has a habit of thinking out loud. His eyes grow wide, his eyebrows fly high, and his bottom lip ends up pinched between his teeth to hold in a startled laugh. He steadies himself with a deep breath, slowly letting it out of his nose while he counts to ten.

“Cas, man, it’s pretty self explanatory…”

Leia, currently lying back on the bed she shares with Cas, her honey eyes taking in the awkward exchange between Dean and his best friend. Her deep red hair cascaded over her shoulders like a mane of fire, as she chortled over Castiel’s unamused huff and eyeroll. 

“Dean, I’ve been watching humans mate and reproduce since before they were bipedal. I understand and am perfectly capable of bringing Leia pleasure through standard sexual intercourse.”

Dean suppresses a wince over Cas’s blunt wording; even years of friendship can’t take away the resounding feeling as though he’s talking about sex with a parent. 

If he’s seen so much, shouldn’t he be teaching me?

The unwelcome thought crosses his mind, paired with an image of Cas in a full bodied latex suit, and he physically shakes it away.

“Then I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Cas, I think you’d better just show Dean. It’ll be easier that way.”

Castiel frowns as he considers this, nodding as he settles on a decision. “I suppose you’re correct. Dean, may I?”

Dean closes his eyes to think, rubbing at his hairline like it will help ease his thoughts. He realizes the confusion is going to eat at him until he barges back in and confronts them anyways, and decides that he’d rather skip the forty minutes of pacing and get straight to the point. He still has a list of things to get done today, one that leaves little room for such distractions. “I guess. Let’s get this over with Feathers, I’ve got guns to clean.”

Cas’ lips thin at Dean’s use of the nickname, but he moves past without comment. “You might feel mildly disoriented.” He presses two fingers to each of Dean’s temples, and the world around Dean shimmers, causing his stomach to roll. His eyes close against the sensation, and it vanishes before he can even be sure he really felt it to begin with. 

Dean opens his eyes and finds himself sucked into one of his favorite memories; quite literally. His lips are sealed around Leia’s clit as she writhes underneath him, her cunt clenching around his fingers as she cums. He doesn’t stop, even when she tries to pull away. Instead, he shifts the arm not currently three fingers deep, and pins her hips in place. She breaks from panting to whine his name, high and desperate, but he knows she’s been holding out on him. Her thighs squeeze, one on top of one shoulder, one underneath the other, and he replaces his mouth with his thumb so he can turn and bite the thigh against his ear. He’s rewarded with a sharp, ragged gasp, his thumb circling relentlessly as his fingers push against her g-spot. Her shoulders lift part way off the bed and for a moment she looks like a marionette, her eyes open but unseeing, her mouth hanging slack. He can feel her whole body tensing around him, and he can’t help but grin. 

“Come on, Honey, let go for me,” he drawls, his accent thick and voice ragged. 

He can feel her let go with his finger tips, and his eyes study her face as his skin tingles in a mix of awe, pride, and lust. Castiel chooses that moment to rip him back into the present, and he uses the guise of disorientation to close his eyes and steady his beating heart. His fingers twitch at his side with the urge to wipe phantom moisture off on his jeans, and his cock stirs in his jeans. He rattles off the safety features of the newest Dodge minivan in his head, willing an awkward erection away. 

Traction control, tire pressure monitoring, rear child safety locks.

Since the universe decides against opening a black hole directly beneath his feet, Dean opens his eyes. He looks first at Leia, her warm eyes filled with concern, before turning to meet Cas’ cool blue gaze. 

“Will you teach me?”

“Cas...” Dean runs his hand across his face, his eyes flicking between his friends. “I don’t know. Even if I could, I’m not sure how I would.” 

“I could always take the information straight from the source.” Castiel, Dean was sure, was immune to any and all awkwardness. 

“Castiel! I told you that if Dean didn’t want to help, you would let him go, without any brain spelunking.”

“If you would let me use my grace-”

“You can use your grace to- nevermind. I don’t want to know.” Leia smirks and shoots Dean a wink, and he shudders mentally.

Dean sighs again, his mind battling with its southern counterpart, and blessedly Castiel and Leia stay silent. He gazes at the angel before him, thinking of all the times he’s been saved by his hand, how Castiel has rarely ever asked him for anything but trust. He thinks of Leia, who has been by his side for the better part of 20 years, spent the prime of her life trying to keep his ass alive, and how much she deserves someone who could give her all the things he can’t (or in this case, all the things he can) do. She’s happy with Cas. Cas wants to give her everything she could want. Dean refuses to think about where else Cas would turn for advice, and realizes the decision has been made. 

“Alright. If everyone is okay with this...” Dean gestures to the room again, still unsure there are appropriate words to describe the situation. “I’ll help you.” Leia smiles softly at him, relief washes over Castiel’s face. Dean swallows hard, and thinks there might be a rock settled in his stomach. “How…?”

“Some things are best learned by watching.” 

Of course that would be the one piece of advice Castiel would latch on to. 

“Right. Okay. Well…”

Attuned to his emotions after so many years living beside him, Leia gets up from the bed and stands between him and Castiel. Headstrong, with no room for nonsense, she grasps the open sides of his flannel, pulls him flush against her body, and presses her lips to his. 

It’s been eleven years since they shared a kiss, but it seems as though no one informed their mouths. They fit together the same, and Dean finds himself running his hands up her arms, across her back, pulling her closer, one hand traveling up to the back of her head. She relaxes against him, and it would be so easy for Dean to pretend Castiel isn’t there, to believe that they never fell apart, to find safety and solace in her touch once more, to break down the walls he spent so long building that he can no longer remember if they’re for her sake or his. 

He stiffens, but Leia already knows. She kisses her way across his jaw on up to his earlobe, nibbling softly just behind the curve. She pulls his earlobe with her teeth, before speaking in a heavy low voice. 

“It’s okay, Dean. I want this. Please.” She breathes the last word. Dean wonders briefly if he imagined it, before his resolve crumbles. 

Dean nods, not trusting himself to speak. Leia slips his shirt from his shoulders, and he lets it fall to his feet. He stops thinking, instinct taking over. Her shirt joins his, and he grins when he finds she’s decided to forgo a bra. He backs her on to the bed, his lips trailing hot against her skin as he makes his way up to meet her lips. Castiel shifts behind him, the rustling of his trench coat as he places it on the back of the chair reminding Dean that he’s doing this for a reason, not just living out fantasies. Dean gives control back to his brain, and slows the urgency of his kisses while wondering how to give Castiel a step by step guide on how to make his girlfriend squirt.

“The first-“ Dean’s voice is too low, too thick with lust, so he clears his throat and attempts to continue. “You gotta start-“ Leia stops his stuttering with a kiss. 

“This isn’t going to work if you spend the entire time stumbling over a play by play like it’s your first day on ESPN.”

Dean hangs his head in defeat, the tips of his hair brushing against Leia’s nude chest as it rises. An apology is clawing its way out when Castiel speaks from a spot behind him. 

“Just pray to me.”

Dean turns to meet the cool blue gaze over his right shoulder, and Cas nods at whatever emotions are swirling over his own eyes. Dean finds no doubt in Cas’, no uncertainty, just oceans of trust with swells of excitement that Dean is still sure he doesn’t deserve. He turns his attention back to Leia, who turns a similar trusting, warm gaze on him. She smiles, lips puffy and face relaxed in a nostalgic lust. 

“Okay?” Her voice is sweet, safe, and Dean smiles as the rock in his stomach cracks. 

“Yeah. Okay.”

Dean leans in for a deep kiss, invading her mouth with an expert tongue before making his way down her neck. He prays as he goes along, explaining every touch to Castiel. Leia moans beneath him, leaning in to his touch as he strips her, blunt nails coaxing goosebumps to her skin. He trails kisses and bites down her body, the thumb of his right hand brushing over her nipple, his left resting on her hip as he settles between her thighs. She feels hot and and solid beneath him, and the way she’s relaxed, honey eyes half lidded and full of lust, calms him. Dean bites the inside of her thigh, soothes it with a kiss, and then the absurdness of what they’re doing hits him.

He nearly laughs. It creeps up his throat from deep inside him, threatening to break this tender moment, and he’s not sure that he can hold it in. 

If anyone would have told me, at any point in time, that I would be praying to an angel while demonstrating how to make his girlfriend squirt-

Leia’s hands in his hair bring him back from the edge of hysterics. She pulls, hard enough to move his head, and he twists her nipple in retaliation. She hisses, arching, and she chuckles.

“Focus, Cowboy.”

Dean grins and gets to work. He tightens his grip on her hip, uses his tongue until she’s keening for more, pulling his face closer and fighting against his hold to grind against him. He squeezes her nipple once more before he adjusts himself, latching on to her clit and thrusting the two middle fingers on his left hand in her sodden cunt. He can feel her clenching desperately already, and within a few moves of his fingers she’s cumming.

Once the first one is out of the way, the main key is to keep going, Cas. No matter what she says, or if she tries to pull away, keep going.

Her low pitched guttural groan fills the room, and her thighs clench around his head. He can’t help but chuckle, letting her hip go long enough to force his left arm between her thigh and his ear, pressing the length of his forearm down across her hips and grabbing tight to her right. He adjusts, filling the emptiness where his left hand had been with his right, kissing and nipping at her thigh while rubbing her clit in rough circles with the pad of his thumb. She fidgets, trying to pull away from the overstimulation, desperate whimpers falling sweetly on the air, her body trembling around him. She begins to buck, fighting to pull away, and he can sense Cas stiffen behind him. 

This is where you make your mistake. She’s so close Cas, you can feel her tightening and trying to fight it, but if you really want to make her happy you’ve got to push her into it. Rub her gspot harder, make sure you never let up on her clit, and tell her what you want. She loves that.

“Come on Honey,” Dean purrs, his voice deep and heavy with lust, his accent dripping from his words. “Let go for me.” 

Present mirrors the past, and Dean is awash in deja vu.

Leia’s mouth opens, her whines cutting off to a silent scream. Dean can feel every one of her muscles clenching, her fingers gripping so hard around the bedsheets that the fabric is protesting. The pressure continues building, her shoulders coming off the bed of their own accord, turning her into a marionette of pleasure, a memory come to life. He can feel the release on the tips of his fingers, bringing a grin to his face. 

“That’s my girl.” 

Her silent scream breaks into a desperate cry as her release sprays down his arm. She gasps, falling apart from the inside out. Dean runs his hands up her body as she finally relaxes, the human version of a spring that’s been wound until it snaps. She collapses back down on the bed, her legs extending to either side as her muscles relax. Her chest heaves as she pulls in desperate gasps of air, aftershocks of pleasure still vibrating through trembling extremities. 

Dean smiles softly at her, pressing a soft kiss to her thigh before standing. His cock aches, his erection pressing uncomfortably against his jeans that seem two sizes tighter than this morning. He backs away as Castiel sheds his trenchcoat and settles on the bed, pulling Leia to his chest and murmuring praise between kisses. Dean watches as he feels jealousy blanket his shoulders. It’s her soft begging that finally gets his feet moving again, though his eyes and ears stay fixed on the couple in the bed, his heart aching for it’s happy ending. Sorry buddy, you’re going to have to settle for another long shower.

“Dean.” Her voice reaches him as his hand settles on the door handle, a tangible echo, just as sweet as it was when she was his. “I need you too.” He stops and turns, his heart rate skyrocketing, his cock twitching excitedly. “Please.” She’s always begged more with her eyes than her words, and Dean sees that old flame brought back to life, an ember fanned to raging inferno.

Every fiber of his being is singing all the praises Heaven doesn’t deserve, but still he hesitates.

“It’s okay, Dean.” Blue eyes ground him, just as safe and steady in the bedroom as they are on the battlefield. 

Dean turns from the door, his hands already working at the button of his jeans as he floats back toward the bed. Their clothes are gone before his jeans make it over his hips, and he decides that maybe grace has more advantages than those that are tactile. He pauses at the foot of the bed, the logistics overwhelming his lust addled brain. Shower sex isn’t the only thing that’s complicated. Hell is still just hell, though.

“What do you want, Princess?” Castiel murmurs low into Leia’s ear, and Dean is close enough to see the bumps rise on her skin.

“Deep.” Her tongue stumbles over the single word, her endorphin overloaded brain struggling to process anything more than action and touch.

“I need you to ask for it.” Castiel rolls, throwing one of her limp legs over his hip, dipping two fingers into her cunt and making her eyes fly skyward. “Or you’re not going to get what you want.”

Dean’s cock twitches against his abdomen, and he slowly strokes himself as he watches Castiel’s fingers move, listens to the wet that he caused, feels his body heat under the angel’s sharp gaze. 

They seem to spend an eternity in that moment, washed in lust, excitement, and anticipation. Everything is tense, but Dean feels lighter than he has in years as he allows himself to stop thinking and simply wait to be given a command.

“I want Dean to fuck my ass,” Leia finally manages to gasp out as Cas continues to tease her. “While I ride your cock.” 

Castiel pulls his hand out and settles her slowly onto him. Leia gasps, her hands gripping his shoulders as he guides her hips down, inch by agonizing inch, Dean’s mouth falling open and a grin crawling across Cas’ face as they both watch. Cas maneuvers them until they’re at the end of the bed, his legs hanging over the end and her knees propped on the edge. Dean runs his hand down her back, along the curve of her spine, her skin soft and smooth beneath his time roughened palm. He cups her ass, firm from decades of hunting, and his thumb rubs over a wayward freckle. He spreads it, his tongue darting out to wet his lip as he takes in the view before him, savoring it. 

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice breaks through his trance, and when he finds that sharp gaze, Castiel is holding out a bottle of lube.

Dean nods as he accepts it, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to form words. He lubes his fingers, teasing her hole before pushing one in. He would gladly go to hell again to hear the moan that left her lips as she pushed back onto his hand. He slowly works her open with one hand as he strokes himself with the other, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

“Dean, please I need you,” Leia whines, her forehead settled on Castiel’s shoulder as the angel busies himself kissing and nipping her neck, teeth grazing one of her favorite spots.

“Okay, darling. I’ve got you.” He preps, takes a deep breath, and pushes forward.

It feels like coming home. Dean gasps and he’s surrounded by tight heat, his hands digging into her hips, his legs settling against the bed, sandwiched between hers and Cas’s. Dean, a corner of his mind once worried about the possible awkwardness of sharing his past love with her present one, the small rational part of his brain speeding through the consequences of fucking his best friend’s girl while he’s in the room, is suddenly certain that if he moves, he will cum instantly, something he hasn’t done since he was 17.

Dean tries to think of a witty comment, the sudden vulnerability of the situation overwhelming him, the need for a protective wall of humor urgent, even though he knows it will destroy this precious moment. His mouth opens, his tongue threatening to sabotage this perfection, but instead of words Dean moans incoherently as Castiel grabs his hips and forces him to move in sync with his own thrusts.

Dean decides that it’s okay to turn his brain off. He stops thinking, and instead he starts feeling. He reaches a hand around to rub at Leia’s clit, tightens his hold on her hip as she falls limp, her body unable to hold itself up between them. Tears are rolling slowly down her cheeks, drool slipping out of the corner of her mouth as her eyes unfocus and she succumbs to the intense pleasure. 

“Such a good girl.” Cas’ voice is deeper than Dean imagined would be possible, rough and breathless as he throws his head back. “More, Dean. Harder.” Cas guides Dean’s movements, pulling his hips in. Dean plants his feet, adjusting the angle of his thrusts, giving himself leverage for more powerful thrusts, pulling a deep moan from Cas’ lips. “Yes, Dean, good.”

Dean’s balls tighten at the praise, his thighs begin to burn as his pace quickens, desperation driving him. He feels Leia cum again, hears her hiss at the end of a silent scream, but it seems far away. His only focus is chasing the high, getting relief from the pressure that’s settled on his groin, because right now everything is tightening, every muscle is tensing. Dean grasps both of her hips in his hands, his knuckles turning white as his pace begins to falter. He hears Castiel call out, feels the hands on his own hips tense and relax, and finally he’s breaking.

Time is meaningless. He falls onto the bed, years of tension seeped from his body. He feels like he’s floating, relaxed and happy, a constant pain numbed in a way that whiskey cannot help. Castiel cleans up Leia with a snap, and she wakes enough to cuddle against Dean, nuzzling her way beneath his arm just like she always has. Castiel lays behind her, bringing with him a sense of safety Dean craves. 

------

Dean is staring at the gun in his hands, but he hasn’t moved to clean it. He glances at the clock, surprised to find that he’s been unfocused for fifteen minutes. He’s not been able to make it through a quarter of his list, but he can’t bring himself to count the day as wasted as he normally would. He’s been trapped in his mind today, bouncing between nostalgia and present, doing his best to not linger on the new, overwhelming amount of ‘what-if’s and ‘what does it mean’s buzzing around his mind. 

He finds himself falling into another spiral, wondering if this was a one time romp, or if he’s not the only one with unrequited feelings. If Leia still has feelings, what does that mean for Cas? They make each other better, they need each other, and Dean does not have enough room in his mental guilt chest to add that.

A small knock at his door makes him jump, and he clears his throat and busies his hands before telling them to come in.

“Dean?” Leia’s voice is tentative, her eyes troubled. She settles herself on his bed, and Dean forces himself to stay where he is at his desk. His heart is racing nearly as fast as his mind, anxiety restricting his lungs and drying his mouth. “Can we talk?” There it was. The death sentence.

“Of course.” Dean zeroed in on the gun in his hands, focused on the familiar movements.

“I talked with Cas about what happened this morning. It...” She paused, biting her lip as she struggled with what to say next. A hundred scenarios began playing through Dean’s mind, each one worse than the previous. 

It was a one-time thing. It was a mistake. It was something I regret. It was the final straw, I can’t do this anymore, we’re leaving.

“It stirred up some emotions that I buried a long time ago. I hope that I don’t offend you by saying this, or that this makes you uncomfortable.” She took a deep breath, and Dean began to oil the pieces of his gun, glad to have something to do with his hands so that she couldn’t see them tremble as he waited patiently for her to continue, every muscle tensed and prepared for life’s usual kick to his metaphorical (and sometimes physical) balls.

“I still love you, Dean. I’ve talked it out with Cas. If you’re interested, I’d like to … make sure this isn’t a one time thing. Cas is okay with this. He understands that each of you are important to me, and each of you fulfill different areas of my life. I want you both.”

Dean’s hands stop moving. He distantly hears the piece of gun clatter to the floor. Every thought screeches to a halt as he looks up, searching her face for any hint of a lie or a prank. Instead, he finds raw vulnerability, one he had chased away long ago. The walls he had watched her build between them over the years, even the bricks he had had purposefully caused her to lay, were now mere crumbles of brick and mortar. 

A smile begins to slowly spread across Dean’s face.

Taglist:

@impala-dreamer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-idjit-95​ @team-free-will-you-idjits-67​ @missjenniferb​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @maddiepants​ @crashdevlin​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @cracksinthewalls​ @stunudo​ @mskathywriteswords​ @rockhoochie​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​ @wanderingcas​ 

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Dwell Time

Summary: Demobilisation was always a difficult occasion for Oliver. He had no-one to return to. This time, it might be different.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 2900

Notes: I rarely do AUs. It’s not really my métier. Let’s see how that’ll turn out.

Oliver always dreaded the moment they walked off the plane. He has done this many times before, but it always made him anxious and sad.

As the Captain announced the impending landing at London Heathrow, the knots in his stomach twisted just a bit tighter. He had to take a deep, cleansing breath to loosen those knots and the tense set of his shoulders.

He knew they would receive a hero's welcome. There was always cheering and gratitude when soldiers returned home from deployment from overjoyed family members and well-wishers. This time they had been gone for two years, and many of his crewmates were preparing to meet their children or new family members. The air was thick with excitement, it was nice.

No, that part was okay with Oliver. The respectful faces of every one present lifted his spirits. All those people made him feel like he was doing something right in his life; that he was making a difference in the world. Or at least the lives of his brothers and sisters in arms.

What really got to him was the moment that all the families converged and the care was palpable. He was happy for his unit, everyone made it back and was embracing their loved ones, but he was also envious. There was never anyone waiting for Oliver. The loneliness never seemed so bad until you are the only one standing alone amid joyous shouts and tears of happiness without someone to pick you up from the airport.

Born to an aristocratic family from Dorset, his mother died when he was three and his father never really cared for his child. As soon as he was able, Lord Cochrane shipped his son to Gordonstoun, and he could count on one hand the times they met ever since. Surrounded by the who’s who of British society, he could not find himself and never had many friends growing up. An orphan and a natural loner, he only relied on himself.

Oliver learned early in life that others were only out for themselves. Under the oppressive atmosphere at the boarding school and the deceiving colleagues, he kept to himself, watched his back after that and spent his time with his books and learning. He was not going to be stuck in that hell forever; he vowed to get out.

After being shown the door on his 18th birthday and high school graduation, before he could even take the train back to southern England, Oliver took a chance on himself at an enlistment booth in Aberdeen.

He signed his life away on the dotted line and had been a soldier ever since. He finally learned what it was to rely on others and have them believe and rely on you. Every minute of every day during basic training, Oliver's thought processes were being rewired.

Gone was the "I look out for only me" mentality. In its place was the “We look out for each other" mantra. Every training exercise was focused on making the unit work together. Hell Week was 7 days of being in the field with a 150 pound pack and miles of running every day. Oliver finally saw how much his unit had become the brothers and sisters he never had when on the last leg of their journey, he took a bad fall and could not walk without support. They all gladly helped him the last few miles to camp and razzed him to keep his spirits up. It was humbling and he never took it for granted.

His current rank was Captain and he was in the field wherever his brothers were. Oliver had a sharp mind and was exceptional at raw data analysis. At least that is what the army called it. Oliver just always trusted his gut; that undefinable knowing that something was right or wrong.

This aptitude developed as the bearings of a very mischievous, observant child. Oliver always knew the best ways to get in and out of trouble. He took pride in getting all his guys home after every tour.

Back to the present, he felt an acute ache in his heart for what he saw all around him. Fathers, children, mothers, lovers, overjoyed to see their significant others, as they walked out to thunderous applause. He could feel his world shrinking again. Just like that, he was back to his childhood of watching from the side-lines, aching for the day it was his turn.

Oliver paused to send up a quick prayer of gratitude and watched the reunions. His friend Charlie was kissing her bride. They had been married a few weeks before the unit got the orders to go. He knew she would give him a ride to where he would be staying or invite him to a welcome home barbeque at her in-laws. Oliver definitely did not want to intrude on their reunion, though. They may have been married a couple years now, but they were definitively still newlyweds.

His other friend Edward was seeing his baby boy for the first time in the flesh. His girlfriend, Patricia, had found out she was pregnant a couple months after they were shipped out.

Times like these made him feel so alone, even in a crowded airport. It seemed like he would always be alone.

Well, alone in the sense of having that permanent home in another's soul anyway. At 1,90m tall, with short, slightly curly, golden blonde hair and green eyes, Oliver was never lonely for a bed partner. His posh English accent was just icing on the cake. It was all fun and games, but, in the end, he wanted more than just Miss Right Now.

Oliver took a deep breath and pushed away those thoughts. There was no use dwelling on it, as it would not change anything. He turned around to head towards the exit, hoping to avoid the others catching up with him and giving him that pitiful look and offers that would end with him being a third wheel.

He drew up short as he almost ran over a sprite looking up at him in concentration. The little thing surely had something on her mind. She was just a cute little girl, with fair skin, turquoise blue eyes, and a distinctively long and red mane of ginger hair. She could only be three or four at the oldest. Oliver looked around for her parents before kneeling down in front of the little angel.

"Well now, what do we have here? What's your name, honey?" He said with an assuring small smile on his face.

Snapping out of her daze, the girl stood up straight and saluted Oliver before saying, "Daisy Kinsey, sir. Thank you for your service. What's your rank? You don't have the same stars as Grampy. Do you know my Grampy? His name is Admiral Kinsey, but I calls him Grampy. He's in the army too, but he don't live around here. I'm going on a plane to sees him."

"At ease, little soldier. Captain Oliver Cochrane at your service." A slightly stunned Oliver replied holding out his hand. It definitely was not every day a child that young knew about the ranks and stars. Maybe she was not a young as she looked. "Are you here with your Grampy?"

Daisy was about to reply when they heard a distraught feminine voice franticly hollering out for her. Scooping her up as he stood, Oliver looked around for the voice.

"Sounds like someone's looking for you, Daisy. Did you run off from your mummy?"

"I saws all the blacks and the caps and I thought Grampy was here." Daisy said, letting out a long-suffering sigh. Weren't grown-ups supposed to be smart?

Hearing the voice again, he combed the crowd, weaving his way through stragglers rushing to make their planes, trying to pin point the direction from which it was coming. Daisy hollered out “Mummy!” as a gaunt, tall, blonde woman impeccably dressed stepped into Oliver's line of sight. The frantic look on her face confirmed she was looking for her lost child.

Oliver's breath caught as he locked eyes on her face for the first time. The woman was a grown-up version of the child, but with blonde flowing hair, instead of red and curly. The little girl must have taken after her mummy.

There was just something about the woman that made you want to protect her, to be with her. Maybe it was her smiley expression or her aura that screamed inherent goodness. There was a genuine look of kindness in her eyes. There was also a fierceness in her eyes that dared anyone to try to protect her. She was definitely the type that could look after herself.

Oliver saw her let out a sigh of relief when she saw them approach.

"Daisy Kinsey! What were you thinking, you silly girl?! You’ll give me a stroke running like that on a busy airport! Mummy was going crazy with worry!" A smooth alto voice cried while reaching up to cover the child with kisses as she clung to Oliver's neck.

"I'm sorry Mummy. I saws the blacks and thought Grampy was here. Then I saw Capt'n Oliver all alone and wanted to give him hugs and kisses to welcome him home!" Looking back at Oliver, Daisy continued. "Grampy says I gives the best hugs and kisses and it makes up for him being gone and alone all the time. I gives him lots of love when I see him, so he has left overs saved up when he leaves again."

Daisy finished her story with a heartfelt hug and a big smacking kiss to Oliver's cheek. His heart squeezed in his chest as he gave her a tight hug in return and kissed her forehead.

Meeting the lady's eyes, he could see she was a little teary. Oliver was truly hoping it worked that way. He would need that extra love saved up when he finally went on his way.

"Well now, that definitely the best welcome home I've ever had." Stretching his hand forward for Daisy's mom to shake. "Captain Oliver Cochrane, madam."

"Penelope Kinsey, but please call me Penny. Welcome home Captain. Thank you for your service and for bringing Daisy back. I'm sorry if she interrupted anything."

As Penny shook Oliver's hand, he felt a warmth spread through his chest. He noticed she did not have on a ring nor a tan line on her finger. Here is to hoping she did not have anyone waiting for her either.

"Not at all, ma'am. As she said, I was alone. Just about to head out when I noticed this little flower." He replied as the earlier loneliness tried to push back the warmth he was feeling.

Penny frowned at the thought of a soldier returning home with no one to receive him. Her dad would take off on deployment often when she was a kid, and so she knew how much it meant to her father when she was there to welcome him, and even now with Daisy, upon his return.

General Kinsey always told his daughter that she was the reason he always came home and the light in her eyes when she saw him for the first time after a mission or any trip was worth everything he went through. He would do it a thousand times to get back to his little girl and feel the unconditional love of his youngest child.

It hurt her heart to think of any soldier not having that feeling when he returned home.

She wondered what his story was because surely, he had someone waiting at home. Just from his looks alone, Penny was sure that Oliver could have any woman he wanted. Add in the fact that he's a soldier; just about every woman loves a man in uniform. Many men do too, for that matter.

The biggest thing for her was his green eyes. Something about them were familiar, homely, about them, they were the eyes of someone she wanted to hold in her arms and take the pain away. Yes, she could see that he had lived through some tough things; being a soldier was almost a guarantee for that. Mostly though, Penny could see that this man had a great amount of love in his heart to give, and a thirst to receive it. How could a man with all those great things about him be alone?

"Alone? Surely you have some family or friends that came to pick you up?"

Dropping his head slightly and giving a small shake, trying not to let the melancholy feeling take hold, Oliver replied, "No, Ms. Kinsey. No family or friends, except for those having their own reunions."

Feeling horrible for her mouth running away with her and sad that he truly did not have someone waiting, Penny laid her hand gently on his arm. "I'm sorry Oliver. I didn't mean to overstep. I'm glad Daisy found you."

Without overthinking it too much, she stepped forward to hug him, quietly welcoming him home. Oliver hugged Penny back with his free arm, marvelling at the feeling the flower and the angel in his arms gave him. It was unlike anything he had ever felt.

"Have dinner with us." She blurted out pulling way at last.

Penny's breathe caught, not believing she was brave enough to ask. She might be brave enough to go into stage or to perform her family’s social duties in London with her mother, but in real life, without costumes or make-up or strict rules, she was actually very shy. Her face and neck flushed a deep rose pink as her eyes hit the floor.

"Have dinner with us and I'll drop you off where ever you need to go. My treat! I mean if you want to. I swear that I'm not crazy. I never do this, but everyone should have someone to pick them up from the airport. So, let me give you a ride, at least. I mean if you need it and don't have plans."

She's adorable. Oliver thought startling himself because he had never thought that word about anything, let alone a woman, but it was true. Penny was adorable as she rambled on, pink faced and shy.

"Yes! Come with us Capt'n, please? We can go to the Fortress like we always do with Grampy. Can't we Mummy? Are we still going to see Grampy? I thoughts we was riding on the plane to go see him? Can I get chicken tenders with fries and ice cream for dessert, Mummy?" Daisy asked excitedly, a wide smile lighting her face.

Laughing at the look on Oliver's face from all the questions, Penny patiently answered Daisy. "We can go to a greasy spoon if that's okay with Oliver, but he's our guest so he gets to choose. He's been away from home for a while, so he may want to have dinner at his favourite restaurant. As for seeing Grampy, his flight got cancelled. We're not going to see the plane today, but we’ll get to stay in London for a few more days. And yes, if you want chicken tenders with fries that's fine. We'll see about ice cream. Maybe if you're a good girl, okay?"

"I always a good girl, Mummy. So Capt'n, please?" Daisy begged, pulling out the doe eyes and pouty lips.

It is a look her Grampy could never resist, which she used to her full advantage for lots of ice cream and candy. Daisy gave her Grampy lots of love and he gave her the loot. She thought it was a fair trade.

Oliver just smirked at her pitiful little face as he listened to them. Again, he thought they were adorable. He knew he was not about to turn down an offer to spend more time with them.

He was drawn to mother and child. Oliver wanted to know them, plain and simple.

"If you're sure it wouldn't be an imposition Penny, I'd be much obliged for the ride and company for dinner. I don’t really have a favourite restaurant, but I could definitely go for some English food. Besides, I think I need another hug from little flower over here." He finally replied, tickling Daisy's belly and laughing as she giggled.

"It's my treat, though. We can't have the little flower reporting back to the Admiral Kinsey that I was anything less than a gentleman." Oliver added with a tilt of a smile on his lips.

Feeling like fate finally shined down on them and that their lives were turning the page to a much more exciting chapter, Penny bravely intertwined their fingers.

Smiling up at him shyly, she said, "Let's get going, then. Tables at the Fortress fill up fast."

Oliver's smile was a mile wide as they walked through the thinning crowd of soldiers and their families. He had a feeling this was the last time he ever had to feel the loneliness that always tainted his returns.

He did not know what he was headed towards. He only knew was that it was a better place than he was coming from. If there was one thing Oliver had learned over his thirty-something years on God’s green earth, it was to trust his gut, and he had a good feeling about this.

DS Masterlist

[thefirelordandtheambassador]

close your eyes and i’ll close mine

Zutara Week 2020 Submission (“reunion”)

Rating: T for Teens 

Length: 3,186 words @zutaraweek Cross-posted on AO3 under one work titled “all that i hoped would change within me stayed (god only knows which of them i'll become)”  “Get off my shit, rabbit-squirrel-brains!” Toph hollers, and Katara whips around, away from the rapidly approaching horizon, away from the lure of the sea. She watches, non-plussed, as Toph dive-bombs a young soldier, who has tried to move some luggage to a more convenient spot on the boat. Ember Island, well, it doesn’t loom, but it approaches like a nervous servant--Katara will never get used to the servants that seem to appear like mist or ghosts, at the Earth Kingdom Palace, at General Iroh’s apartments in Ba Sing Se, at Toph’s parents’ house when she visited last year with her-- “for moral support and elbow-holding.”

“I’m sorry, miss! I just have to move things!” Katara bites at her lips, trying desperately to hide a snicker. Toph is wrestling him to the deck, clearly attempting to keep him away from her bag.

“I see you, mocking that poor boy,” jibes a soft, smoky voice to her side. She looks up--it’s Zuko.

“Not going play referee?” asks Sokka, following up behind him.

“Mmm, not today,” Katara muses, tossing her hair into the breeze. It is nice to be back on the ocean. She’s spent the last six months in a border town of the Si Wong Desert, negotiating with the sand-benders. Before that, she was in Ba Sing Se on official ambassadorial duties for the Southern Water Tribe for about a year, and then before that, she’d been providing aid for some of the rural interior Earth Kingdom towns for something like eighteen months. Most eighteen-year-olds she knows are either in school, or married with a kid on the way, but she’s single and doing the heavy diplomatic and charitable work of a woman twice her age.

“Oh, look, she’s going easy on him,” Zuko notes drily, as Toph shoves the poor kid into a door. “He’ll get off with just a concussion, instead of a broken arm like the last guy.”

The past few years have been good to Zuko--it’s been almost three years since she’s had a chance to visit. He’ll be twenty tomorrow, and he’s grown. Really grown. He’s easily over six feet tall, and his hair is so long now that what isn’t caught up in his topknot rolls over his shoulder. He has one of those formal shoulder pieces on that Katara desperately hopes will go out of style soon, but it doesn’t do much to the chest that has already grown broader and more muscular. And he was no lanky twig like Sokka during the war, either, she muses.

“Well, someone’s gotta get those boys in shape--she’s taken to teaching a little too well, in her old age,” Katara snarks back, smiling. Zuko smiles back, golden eyes softening. His face has thinned out too, cheekbones standing out elegantly, even under the scar. He looks real good.

“Well, at least you got out of being such a turbulent sixteen-year-old; can’t say I wasn’t beating people up at her age. So, uh, how are you and Aang, ah, doing these days?” There’s the awkward turtle-duck, out and about for a toddle around the pond.

Sokka barks a laugh, walks away, throws an arm around Toph.

She smiles ruefully, “You know, we’re taking a break. I think we both need it; we’re apart so often, you know? He’s flying here from the Western Air Temple and will meet us at the summer house. It’ll be good to see him again. It’s good to see all of you again, really. Ambassadorial life is pretty lonely.”

“Meanwhile, I feel like I can never get a moment alone these days. Always papers to sign, emissaries to greet, Fire Sages up my ass about everything. I’m glad you all could come to celebrate. I thought a little reunion would be nice. I’m just missing Uncle,” he says with a sigh. They turn, and lean against the railing.

“He misses you too--I stayed at his apartments in Ba Sing Se over the New Year. It was good to see a familiar face,” she says. The breeze whips around them, and Katara’s nose is overwhelmed with the smell of amber musk, something roast-y, and rich sandalwood. “Are...are you wearing cologne?!”

Zuko pinks.

“The Earth Kingdom ambassador got it for me for a birthday gift! She said it was indispensable for any young nobleman! Is it too much?” She softens. It is good to be back with friends--with him.

“No, no,” she says, and sticks her nose onto his sleeve, “I like it. It smells nice on you.” Underneath the cologne, she gets that warm man-smell. She misses that smell, from time to time, if she’s being honest with herself.

“Oh good. He said to go easy on it. Um, Katara?”

“Oh, sorry!” She’s lingered too long. But looking up into his eyes, they are still molten and soft. It’s her turn to pink, and she looks back to the sea. They are close to the docks. “I guess I’m just a little tired. I am so ready for this mini-vacation.”

“You deserve it. Uncle says you do the work of a woman twice your age.”

The beach house is just as she remembers it, but somehow, fuller, livelier. Zuko’s stocked it with paintings of the whole team, plants with bright summer blooms heavy with scent, curios from his travels. There’s only two servants, blessedly, a cook and a maid who greet them at the door.

“It looks nice in here! So bright and happy!” cheers Suki. “It was kinda sad when we stayed here last time.”

“Thanks. Uncle’s sent me enough tea and teapots to fill a whole bookshelf,” Zuko shrugs, “but I wanted it to be fun again, so Kiyi and Mom can come and enjoy themselves, you know? Get rid of the sad nostalgia, make room for new memories. Maybe we could have regular reunions here.”

“Heck yeah!” chimes Toph, hefting her bag. “I am so ready for some vacation time!” Things are dropped in rooms, and Katara is convinced to join the group at the beach, even though the things that sound the best right now are to sink into the fluffy white covers of the bed she’s been given and have a deep, sun-soaked nap, dreaming away the afternoon for the first time in years.

She pads out, yawning, in her swimsuit, and looks around, trying to remember where the towels were stored last time. She turns too quickly, and runs into something soft, clean, cottony-- a stack of towels?

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, Rina...” Katara stammers, but it’s not the maid. It’s Zuko, who is shirtless and ready for the beach. Her heart thumps a few times and her blood seems to rush a little faster in her veins, because his trunks sling low on his sharp hipbones, and thank Tui and La that she managed to that chest scar to fade to something more dashing. A trail of hair follows his bellybutton down into those trunks...and she’s just gonna stop that thought-canoe and turn it right back upriver.

“Oh, Rina’s packing us some rice balls for snacks, do you have any requests? I know you like pickled ocean kumquats...” He trails off too, sticking a hand behind his head sheepishly. His mane of hair is knotted messily on the back of his head.

“Any flavor is fine!” she squeaks. “Let’s go! I can’t wait for dip! It’s so lovely out today!”

“It is,” he agrees, and scoops up the towels, flinging them over his shoulder. His hand brushes hers lightly as they take the path down to the black sand beach.

Aang arrives just in time for dinner. Rina brings out a sumptuous feast of all their favorites: hippo-cow braised in soy sauce and ginger, rooster-pig spare ribs deep fried and dusted with lime zest and chilis ground to a fine powder, crispy garlic arctic whale-shrimp, a sweet and sour sprouted bean curd, and a miraculous leg of caribou that is roasted and covered in a pearly sauce that is delicately scented and made Sokka cry when it was set down in front of him.

“I tried to make sure we all got something we liked,” Zuko admits, seated comfortably at the head of the table. He’s placed Katara on his right, Toph on his left, and Katara doesn’t mind this. The maid has served what seems like a hundred side dishes, which keeps her plenty occupied, instead of having to make awkward eye contact with Aang. Katara picks up spicy fermented cucumber-melon, braised potatoes and peppers, sautéed pea shoots, and takes a little bit of all the main dishes. “And, my father left one gift: that quite amazing selection of wines and spirits.”

Katara and Suki have been enjoying the plum wine, and Sokka and Toph have turned drinking shots of soju into some kind of game, and are easily drinking Aang under the table already. She hasn’t enjoyed herself, been so relaxed and at ease, in a long time.

“Here, Katara, have you ever had these? They’re a specialty of Ember Island,” Zuko says softly. She turns to him, his chopsticks clutching some noodles like glass threads, mixed with tomato-carrots and green onions. She shakes her head no, and he offers her a bite, guiding the chopsticks to her mouth. They slip in, yummy, and she slurps the last few over her lips.  

“Sorry, country manners,” she says, covering her face and blushing.

“No, no, it’s...it’s cute,” he says. “I don’t mind!” He thinks that’s cute? She decides to take it, and tries to shift the subject, to side-step Zuko turning into the awkward turtle-duck.

“What’s your favorite side dish? We’ve never gotten to eat such a nice meal together so close to each other!” In fact, the last time Katara was at a dinner with Zuko, it was a very formal affair, she was seated halfway down the table from him, between two lords and across from Aang, and it was a plated meal, with a different servant bringing her soup, her salad, her braised pork that was truthfully far too spicy, and she nearly cried when yet another servant brought her some pineapple-lime shaved ice to finish with.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, and his mouth bunches and pouts to one side, “This one.” He proffers long ribbons of carrot in sticky red sauce, sprinkled with sesame seeds. She slurps those off his chopsticks too.

“Ahh! So spicy! But good, really good!” She gulps some more plum wine, feeling warm all over. “Pick another you like.” She wants to know all his favorites tonight. Before dinner, he’d ditched his formal clothes, and has relaxed in a red silk shirt that leaves much of his chest open for her eyes to roam. Nice abs, she notes, for someone who claims to do paperwork all day long.

The wine is getting to her.

“Rina, don’t worry about us, please, head to bed. We’ll probably drink some more, talk, and definitely sleep in in the morning. Plenty of time for you and Lien to do dishes in the morning,” Zuko says to the maid, who is clearly yawning. She bows, murmurs a thank you, and heads off up the stairs. Katara loves how nice Zuko and Iroh are to their employees; the Earth King has several ministers who treat the servants like dirt. She’s brought it up to Kuei, but he only frowns and polishes his glasses.

“Alright! Now we can break out the good stuff!” Toph shouts, and punches the air. She is gone and back again in a flash.

“Good stuff? There’s so much good stuff here already!” Aang’s words come out a little soupy--he’s lost the soju drinking game. He takes a hearty spoonful of fruit tart. “This is so good, Zuko. I love fruit tarts!”

“I didn’t want to sailors to get ahold of this stuff; I confiscated it from one of my students. Ha!” Toph says, dropping back down on her cushion. She holds a long pipe in hand and pouch.

“So that’s why you were beating that poor guy up on the boat?” asks Sokka. Suki has migrated to mostly-in-Sokka’s-lap, but who is Katara to judge, because she is leaning full-body on Zuko--it’s certainly not the wine, she thinks, it’s the biceps for sure.

“Well, hell yeah, this stuff is wild!” crows Toph, dumping some clumps of dried green leaves on the table. She crumbles and stuffs, crumbles and stuff, and passes the pipe to Zuko. “Gimme a light, Master Sparky-pants? First puff is yours, host with the most!”

“What is it?” he asks, flicking two fingers and summoning a small flame. He lights the little leaves in the pipe bowl.

“Green dragon-weed!” Toph crows. “It’ll blow your mind!” Zuko tentatively puffs, coughs, and passes the pipe.

“That’s foul, Toph. Why?” Katara also passes, but Aang tries and Sokka tries, and Toph is clearly an expert, because she blows out perfect smoke rings.

Soon, they are a group of giggling kids again, lying on the floor, cackling at Sokka’s bad jokes as Suki regales stories of their stories, as she and Sokka work as prisoner escorts mostly these days. Aang and Toph keep passing that pipe back and forth, but Katara’s cup of plum wine never seems to empty, mostly because Zuko keeps giving her sips out of his--first a fiery ginger whiskey, next a herby, clear soju with lots of something citrusy squeezed in it, then a sweet melon liquor. He will nudge to offer, and every time, they make electric eye contact, and all the blood in her vein rushes down to the center of her hips.

“These are all really good,” she mumbles, feeling so relaxed and happy, warm against Zuko’s arm, full of food and drink, surrounded by friends.

“Good, I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he says lightly, nuzzling his nose to her ear.  More of that, please, she thinks, his breath hot on her cheek, and she steals a look at the others. Sokka and Suki are halfway out the door to their room, Toph is half-asleep, and Aang lays on the floor, blowing smoke into creatures for Momo to chase after, mostly out of sight.

She turns, and steels herself. “Can I...?”

His eyebrow knits. “Whatever you like?” What a good host.

She cranes her neck a little, and sneaks a peck on his lips, firm and spicy. There’s a little jolt, like electricity, and he presses back, firm, maybe even a little desperate. He shifts angles, captures her more surely. She melts a little, but pulls back. Toph and Aang are still sprawled on the floor, blissfully unaware.

“Aang, I am just beat, aren’t you? Toph? I think we should all drink a glass of water and go to bed,” she says gently.

“Huh? Mmm, yeah, I am pooped!” Aang slurs, and tries to get up, loses his balance, slips. “Monkeyfeathers!”

Toph snores on. Zuko, who still has his bearings, swiftly helps Aang to his feet, and scoops Toph up in a cradle hold. Katara settles the completely toasted Avatar into bed, takes off his shoes and shirt, and forces a glass of water in him. She leaves another on the table, but he’s asleep before she slides the door shut.

“She is out cold!” Zuko says, sliding the door shut. The house is quiet, so quiet that Katara can hear her heart racing. He pads back over. The tie of his shirt has come undone over the course of the evening, and she decides to take yet another chance. She closes the gap between them in the hall, pressing her hand to his chest and reaching up for another kiss.

It’s almost like he knows, and his hands tangle in her hair before their lips meet again. She clutches at the sides of his shirt, thrilled to touch and feel and smell him. One of his hands drops from her hair, and his thumb traces deliciously down her neck, to cup her waist and pull her closer. She sighs as she relaxes into the touch of his lips, the tip of his tongue pushing experimentally. He breaks for a moment.

“C’mon, let’s...get more comfortable,” he rasps, and pulls her down the hall, sliding open the red paper door at the end of the hall. He flicks his hand, lighting many lamps softly, and the room glows a rich red. He pulls her to the bed, and she flops down. The bed cradles her, and she suddenly loses all desire to move.

“I want you to know that I want this, but I’m so tired, Zuko. Rain check?” she murmurs.

“I understand. Can I...can I help you get ready for bed?” he asks, almost shy. Her heart skips. She cranes her neck up, and presses her lips to his heatedly.

“Sure.”

He slips off the bed and shucks his silk shirt to a stool. Next, the gold sash and black trousers. She chuckles lightly, because the style of underwear Fire Nation men wear is so weird-looking, so tight-fitting and trim, but his is black and she’s not surprised by that.

He kneels, and pushes up the skirts of her summer dress. It’s light blue silk with a white surcoat so gossamer it might be made of cobwebs, a gift from the Earth King for her last birthday, and in this heat, she’s glad it’s sleeveless. His hot hands press into her thighs, and he leans in, takes a breath, trails kisses down her inner thighs, over her knees.

He tenderly unwraps the ties from her slippers--they lace up her legs with ribbons--and presses a kiss on her calf. Fingers trail down the back of her calves, over her heels as he tugs the slippers off, stashing them on the floor.

Shoes off, he unties the waistband of the surcoat, lays it on the stool. He takes issue with the buttons on the side of the dress, but gets them undone, and he tugs it over her head until it floats back to join the surcoat. He flips her over, gripping her hips, and pulls the tie of the petticoat, tugs that down too. Hot kisses feather up her spine, and she can’t help but let a noise that is half moan, half sigh.

“Feels so good, Zuko, but I am so ready for some sleep,” she drawls, eyes drooping.

Gently, he presses a heated kiss to her neck, and wow, Katara didn’t know she could sparkle internally. His hands trail to her waist and back up.

“Can I offer you a place to rest here?” he asks, a joke in his voice.

“Seems like just the right place to be,” she yawns. He pulls back the sheets, cool and crisp, and she settles in. He snuggles close to her, and she drifts off, hoping that every reunion can be like this.

[collateralfiction]

ODELL SHORT

DREW

“Do we have to go? I rather stay home with you, do a little recap of our day, have you massage my back, I’ll massage yours and do a little Netflix and chill shit at the end,” I could see his reflection from the mirror as he played with his blonde curls, twisting them between his fingers. The curve of his lip indicated a sly smirk and that his mind was in the gutter. I hadn’t seen him in over a week and instead of spending our time together, we’re going to a little get together by a few mutual friends and he hates it. I’ve had to literally force him to get ready and even so, he’s made every attempt to distract me and have me like putty in his hands.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think we should both pass and get some air, see some people. We have more than enough time now that it’s offseason. I get to harass you all the time, rub my feet against your face and take you to Ming’s nail salon so you can hear what the girls say. Trust and believe you’re going to be annoyed with me,” I said as I finished slicking my hair back into the neatest bun imaginable. My hair was naturally coily and thick. Luckily for me, gel was my best friend and actually helped tame down my wild mane. Albeit it might’ve took me thirty minutes to do a simple hairstyle, I was able to do it and that’s all that mattered to me.

“Which could possibly be true but since it is you, I have no problem tolerating it with your fine ass,” Heat immediately rushed to my cheek as I shook my head at his flirtation. If I wasn’t so headstrung he would’ve had his way for sure. “Come on, the later we arrive, the longer we’re going to have to stay,” he whined.

“Boy, these are your friends too, stop being a baby. I’m going to tell Ben you were talking shit about him,” I mumbled, grabbing my Chanel crossbody and slinging it against my shoulder. The mention of Ben himself immediately got his attention as he stood up and grabbed his red Supreme crossbody and tossed it over his body. He never left the house without it. Him and his murse.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he pulled me back by my belt loop, my back slamming into his rock-hard chest. His hands wrapped around my waist as his minty breath tickled the nape of my neck.

“I just might, just to see what you would do,” I teased, turning around while still in his grasp. His lips meshed into mine as his tongue lightly grazed against mine, causing a slight moan to purr from my lips.

“Yeah, we’re leaving early without a doubt,”

“Aye, look what the cat done dragged in! if it isn’t Mr. & Mrs. Beckham, how nice is it for you to grace us peasants with your royal presence. If only I can grow up to be like you two one day,” Ben had opened the door for us and as usual, it wouldn’t make sense if he didn’t have a smart-ass remark to accompany his greeting.

“Your mama definitely dropped you a couple of times,” I laughed. I playfully pulled him into a tight hug, rocking him back and forth. “But it is a-okay because we love you,” I giggled.

“Nah, ya mama might love you but not I,” Odell murmured, stepping inside. Their little brotherly banter was always something to just sit back and admire. It was hard finding genuine people to be around nowadays and for Odell’s sake, I was glad that he could count on Ben without a doubt. Ben immediately turned around and started to come for him in the only way he knew how to show love.

“And fuck you and whoever sold you on that Supreme satchel my nigga,” he said, pushing him forward a little.

“Your mama gave it to me for Christmas,” O remarked.

“You two together are a comedy show. I’m going to go find Kory. Please don’t get into any trouble while I’m away,” They simply threw a cheesy smile over their shoulder and scurried away while my nose followed the sweet-smelling scent that was coming from the kitchen. I’ve missed Sunday dinner for the past month, and I had to make it a mission to come out and surprise my friend. This was a tradition and now that the gang is all back together, it only makes sense to reconnect. “Is that my baby mama?” I squealed.

“Drewski!” Kory spun on the heels of her feet to meet me halfway as we both stopped to compliment each other on what we liked about each other’s outfits. “It takes wild child Odell for you to swing by and finally bring your ass in for some good ole’ southern cooking,” she sassed.

“Now you know I would never miss your cooking. But, it just didn’t feel right without him. You would’ve done the same if Ben wasn’t here so save it. And don’t act like I didn’t see your ass every week,” I reasoned.

“And so what!? I have a reason to be stingy with my friends, especially you,”

“Well I’m here so no more tears. Odell and Ben are probably in the living room cutting each other’s asses per usual. I bought banana pudding and I made a vanilla cake too so unfortunately you have no choice but to love on me,” I laughed, placing the bag on the counter. I quickly went to the sink to wash my hands before carefully putting the dessert inside of the fridge and placing the vanilla cake on top of its cake stand, marveling at how well I put that together in such a short time.

“Wash your hands boys!” By 9PM, the rest of the gang had arrived. Chanel and Sterling, Adrian and Bailey, Karreuche and Vic and the honorary single individuals- Kelsie and Juan. While the fellas sat and talked about the past season, I helped set the table with the girls and placed down the array of different foods. It felt like a taste of thanksgiving or our annual friendsgiving. Of course, we were a group of friends that loved to eat and wouldn’t pass up another opportunity to eat.

“Hold up now, y’all ain’t finna eat without my baby here at the table, slow your roll!” I busted out laughing from the kitchen as I finished drying my hands off. Odell either really missed me or he wasn’t going to let not a soul eat without myself being present.

“I’m coming, just grabbing the pitcher from the fridge,” I yelled, cutting the lights on in the hallway. “Rum punch and heavy on the punch,” I sat the concoction down in the middle of the table, sitting down opposite of Odell at the end of the table.

“Let’s all join hands,” Chanel said. I reached across to hold O and Kory’s hands, bowing my head as Chanel led the prayer. A round of Amen’s permeated the area once done and we all lifted our head with a smile as we each grabbed a dish to take something from. Odell grabbed the pitcher and poured a generous amount in both he and I’s cup before grabbing my plate to pick and plate what he knew I would eat. I sat back and watched, so enthralled by the fact that that’s my man. We’ve been together for about 3 years and if anyone would have told me I would be in a relationship with a world-renowned football player who has blonde tresses and dances about on a field? I would laugh; no matter how corny that sounds. But if you were to tell me I would be with my best friend I would be more open to that idea.

“So what has everyone been up to? Anyone engaged, pregnant, cheating? What’s the deal?’ Kelsie asked.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I reached a certain point, but you guys are family and I would like to announce, me and Sterling are expecting!” Chanel exclaimed, placing sonogram photos on the table.

“Chanel, please do not lie,” I said, standing up to inspect the photos, my mouth dropping once I read the information to be correct. “Oh my God, we’re pregnant!” I yelled, hugging the both of them tightly.

“No, you are not pregnant, Drew. Unless, you’re trying to drop some hints,” Ben said as he shook hands with Sterling.

“She’ll be pregnant tonight if she keeps up that same energy. Congratulations, brother. Chanel you’ll be an amazing mother and of course I will be the Godfather, don’t even have to ask,” Odell said, smirking a little to gauge the reaction out of everyone else. His bottom grill shinning bright in the dim lighting of the living room.  

“That’s my godson in there loading,” Adrian said with a mouthful of food.

“Hush your mouth, Adrian. How do you know it’s not a girl?” Bailey questioned. At this point I had forgotten about the food and was so wrapped up in the excitement of a baby being added to the clang, but as for guys, they were masters of multitasking. This was almost as good as Football Sunday for them.

“Do you know the sex?” I asked.

“I won’t know for another two weeks. But I’ll honestly be happy with whatever God chooses to bless us with,” she smiled, lifting her shirt a bit to show her protruding belly.

“The audacity of you to not even give a bitch a hint. Knowing damn well I saw your ass two weeks ago and I offered you some mimosas too. Crazy,” I laughed.

“I know, that’s why I had to say something. You know I love you and yes, I will need your help planning this baby shower,”

“Well of course,” I smiled, kissing her cheek.

“Now that all that baby news is out of the way, let’s kindly go back to eating this delicious food that was made. You know I don’t like being the center of attention,” Chanel said as she took a bite out of the chicken.

“Says the Victoria Secret model,” Juan said, causing us all to laugh.

I returned back to my seat and immediately went for the macaroni. I grew up with southern parents so soul food and anything with seafood was a must for us. I could never not have have some on my plate, whether it was a side or my main dish. “Check your phone,” O said. He had been sending me bedroom eyes all night and even before we left. Flipping my phone back on its back, I slid my thumb over the message and unlocked it with my fingerprint. In its signature font read the message:

You want a baby?

I’ll give you that right now, whatever you want.

I hope you had enough sleep and rest while I was gone, I’m tearing that ass up.

I want dessert.. fuck the food.

My jaw dropped and I quickly locked my phone before Kory could see. The boyish grin that adorned his face was enough to make me combust. I have never been in a relationship where after years of dating, flirting is still a main priority. He makes it seem like he’s still courting me and it gives me butterflies no other man could do. None.

“Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself,” I snickered, taking a sip of the mixed rum drink.

“I would like to share it with you but you runnin’ from a nigga,” he mumbled, reaching over to feed me a piece of the spicy rice.

“I’m not.. I just wanted to finally be around everyone and just enjoy it you know. I got you, I promise,” I laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, my ass,” he grumbled, leaning back in his seat as he watched me eat. “The way you slurping on those noodles I want to see you do that on my d-“

“SO GUYS, where are we going this year for vacation? With Chanel being pregnant now, I don’t think anywhere too far is a good idea. Hawaii?” I spoke up before he could utter the word and have everyone in the group realize how sexually frustrated, he is. It turned me on just knowing that he was able to withhold himself for so long and wait till he came back just to have me all to himself. I know how lonely it can get on the road, but he never fails me and for that I always go above and beyond as he deserves it.

“Turks and Caicos isn’t too far away either,” Sterling said, as the general conversation shifted. Thank God.

I caught a quick glimpse of his cunning smirk before he downed the rest of the drink.

“Ben, stop fucking around and wash these dishes. Hot girl summer is here, and you guys lost that round of Uno,” Everyone could hear Bailey yell at Ben as she stood at the entrance of the kitchen to watch him. She was definitely the mom of the group.

“Has anyone seen Odell?” I asked.

“Last I seen him he was heading to the balcony. Go get him tiger,” Kory smirked. I shook my head and grabbed the bottle of Moscato off the table and traipsed towards the back where the faint scent of his cologne led me to his whereabouts. He was overlooking the city view as he leaned against the railing. I placed the bottle of alcohol on the floor and quietly crept towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist and laying my head on his broad shoulders. It seemed like a sigh of relief came from his lips as he purposely turned around and held me against him.

“Did you know a hug that lasts about 20 seconds produces a hormone called oxytocin that has a positive effect on the body and mind? That’s why I want to hug and cuddle so much,”

“I thought it was because a nigga smelled good. But something to that effect,” he laughed.

“Well you do and I’m sorry I’ve been teasing you all night,” I pouted, my lips puckering up. “Give me kiss.. I’ll make it up to you right now,” I said, tugging on his beard.

His eyes widened at my promise and he immediately dropped his head down to meet my awaiting lips. His soft lips enveloped mine, sucking on my bottom lip so tenderly it almost left me weak in the knees. If he didn’t have his hands wrapped around my waist to catch me, I surely would have fell. My tongue danced against his as I gripped onto his t-shirt, wrapping my legs around his waist. “The guest bedroom and make sure you lock the door this time,” I whispered.

[galadrieljones]

That he may hold me by the hand: Chapter 5

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason  

Rating: Mature (Adult Themes, Violence, and Sexual Content)

Summary: After saving Albert from stumbling off a cliff in the Heartlands, Arthur invites him to Valentine for a drink. What ensues after that is a quiet love story, in which both men find themselves completely undone.

Masterpost | AO3 | Epigraph

Chapter 5: I was a bird on the wire.

Like a worm on a hook Like a knight from some old-fashioned book I have saved all my ribbons for thee

-Leonard Cohen, "Bird on the Wire"

After she returned from St. Denis, Mary Beth spent the next week or so thinking and looking at Arthur from afar. Slowly, he was starting to move around the camp and do things for himself, and this reassured her and made her happy. He played a couple hands of poker with John, had dinner by the fire, went down to the water, but he didn’t seem interested in fishing. Mostly he seemed to just be drawing pictures. He spoke little. He did not really speak to Dutch or Hosea. There seemed to be something going on there and it had been going on for a while, but it was getting deeper, and Dutch seemed insecure, frequently checking on Arthur through side channels, but the two of them did not talk. Arthur held everything tightly inside, and he was not really talking to anyone about what had happened with Colm. Not even Hosea. Mary Beth asked him but he only smiled in his handsome way. He wouldn’t worry her, and though she knew it was walls, he was a tough cookie, and she did not know how to bring them down.

In any case, he was still calm and handsome, and his hair was getting longer. She brought him a lot of books to read, mostly shit penny novels she stole from the general store in Rhodes, a couple she even paid for. He would polish them off in an afternoon. She told him it was important for him to read crap as well as classics if he was to become a true gentleman of culture in the world, and this made him laugh, which relieved her. They walked together. He healed quickly and though he could not take sharp, quick breaths without pain, his bruises were getting somewhat better, and his ribs seemed to improve to such lengths that Charles, who had endured broken ribs in the past, speculated that perhaps Arthur had only bruised a couple ribs round the side. That none were broken. This seemed to relieve Arthur, but again, he did not talk on it much.

Meanwhile, Mary Beth could not really stop thinking about Albert Mason, a wholesome man who, regardless of intension, seemed to care about Arthur. A lot. But she was unlike John, who kind of always just had his hand on the truth, and instead, she tended to see what she wanted to see. She hung out with Arthur but he did not talk about Albert. She knew that if he wanted to talk about it, he would eventually. It was not important to her, what was really going on, as long as he was okay.

John, on the other hand, was very curious. He could not stop thinking about it and he would follow Mary Beth down to the water in the evenings where she would be washing clothes and ask her questions about Arthur and whether he had said anything. He was like a little old lady, she thought. He could not help himself. Once while John and Mary Beth were sitting down and smoking by the water, Arthur came down to join them. Mary Beth rolled him one neat cigarette and he lit it himself with a match off the sole of his boot. The color was back in his cheeks now as it had been almost two whole weeks. They all sat watching the birds flying in V-shapes in the sky and the steelhead trout doing flips in the twilight water. The stars were so bright it was like they were on fire, and after a little while of this, just smoking and sitting in a row on the sand, John started talking.

“So,” he said, glancing past Mary Beth, to Arthur. “Arthur. You gonna go see Albert soon? You seem like you’re back on your feet.”

“As soon as I can get on a horse, sure,” said Arthur. He seemed disinterested in the conversation.

“Did we tell you he made us tea?” said John.

Arthur gave him a funny look. “Tea?” he said.

“Yeah,” said John. “Some kind of weird tea. It was good. What was it called again, Mary Beth?”

“Earl Grey,” she said.

“Right,” said John. “Earl Grey.”

“Sounds like something out of Dickens, don’t it?” said Mary Beth.

Arthur smiled at her. “Little bit,” he said, smoking.

“Anyway,” said John. He took a drag. “He seemed like a really nice guy. Albert.”

“That, he is,” said Arthur, watching the lake. A sea bird flew down in an attempt to pick something out of the water with a fair amount of speed, came up empty. “How’d he seem?” he said.

John looked right at him and seized upon the opportunity. “What do you mean?”

Arthur scratched at his beard, smoked, stayed staring into the scenery. His eyes did not break from nature for a second. “I mean how’d he seem,” he said. “It ain’t a complicated question.”

John glanced at Mary Beth.

“He was worried,” she said, looking down at her cigarette. She smoked it, felt it getting low, trashed it in the sand.

“Real worried,” said John. “About you. He seemed to know you pretty well.”

Arthur looked down at his hands, took a drag, tossed the cigarette into the water. He opened up a little then, to their surprise. “We’re pretty good friends,” he said, elbows resting on his knees. “Sorry I never mentioned him before.”

“It’s okay,” said Mary Beth. She put her head on his shoulder. He was very sturdy and she liked the way he felt beside her, as a friend. “Not everything is for talking about, you know?”

“I suppose,” said Arthur.

The divulgence was not enough for John but he knew he was too eager and he was also good at reading moments, and he was good at reading Arthur, too. He let this one be. He finished his cigarette and tossed it out with the others. Then he looked back at the water and thought about Abigail. “I was thinking of maybe…I don’t know. Taking Jack fishing tomorrow. What do you think, Morgan?” he said.

“I think it’s about damn time,” said Arthur.

“You know any good spots?”

“Not really,” said Arthur. “Talk to Javier, though. I know he’s been scouting the shores for fish a lot lately.”

“Okay.”

“Arthur,” said Mary Beth, wistful. It seemed there was a meteor shower overhead. It was raining pretty things in the sky. She made a wish.

“Yes, Mary Beth?”

“I’m glad you’re doin better,” she said, looking at him. “Real glad.”

He sighed. “Yeah, me, too,” he said. “Thanks, Mary Beth.”

“You’re welcome, Arthur.”

They sat for a little while longer, feeling younger than they were, soaking in the celestial majesty and counting the stars.

When Arthur finally felt up to getting on his horse, he walked up the lake to a private spot and he cleaned himself of all the stench of his isolation and loneliness. He combed his hair neatly and tried to see about being presentable as a man in the world. He felt feral but also somehow like a kept child. He trimmed his beard, then he got on his horse and told Mary Beth of his business in St. Denis. He was leaving kind of late in the day, and she wondered aloud when it was he would return.

“I’m not sure,” said Arthur, finding his feet in the stirrups. Amelia was a small and beautiful horse, and she seemed comforted to have him back again. “Anybody asks, I’m just on an errand. I ain’t got a timeline though.”

“Okay, Arthur.”

“You been real good to me, Mary Beth,” he said. She was standing petting Amelia’s white mane. “You been a wonderful friend. I appreciate it, all of it. I wish I could repay you, but I don’t know that I can.”

“Please, Arthur,” she said, smiling up at him and shaking her head. “No need to repay me. You ain’t nothing but a fool for saying such things.”

“Well I do try to impress you so but I know how often I fail.”

She laughed, patted Amelia on the cheek. “Go on,” she said, looking at the horse. “Just be careful out there, Arthur. Go slow. You ain’t 100%.”

“I will.”

“Give Albert my highest regards.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He tipped his hat, as a gentleman, and rode away. She watched him go, her pale skirt swooshing in the southern breeze. For many years now, Mary Beth had been telling herself stories as a means of survival. She had always fancied Arthur as more a knight than an outlaw. Of course that was her girlish brain, but still. Even the way he rode that white horse, it was like the cosmos agreed. He was shiny. He deserved more than this. She sighed and turned around to face the camp, and Karen was waving at her from afar. “Mary Beth!” she said. “You ready?”

They were going to the Rhodes Parlor House to scam some rich dandies out of their ill-earned money. “I’m coming,” she said.

“I got you some lipstick from Molly,” said Karen. “We’re making you look like a harlot!”

Mary Beth laughed to herself as she went.

Arthur rode slow and maintained a sturdy posture on his horse. It had only been a few weeks, and it was still the south, but how he had missed the air, and the sounds of the sky and the wind as it bent through the tupelo trees. Riding hurt. It was full of abrupt and jerky motion that he did his best to ignore. He was sitting upright with his hands on the reins and soldiered forth. It was a thing he was used to—soldiering forth—and anyway, he could not for the life of him imagine spending one more monotonous night down at the camp in Clemens Point. The sounds of the voices there had been wearing him thin, and the clanking of the pots and pans and the moaning tedium of Dutch’s gramophone playing something longwinded and wistful over the sounds of his bitching with Molly had recently begun to fill Arthur with shame and dread and annoyance and regret.

Even still, as he rode away that evening, he knew that he was leaving something behind in Mary Beth. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. Whatever potential there was there, it was gone now. He was a man, and he had thought of her fondly many times. He knew how women worked and Mary Beth was full of quiet looks and easy tells, tells he had given into once or twice in the time since he’d known her, but not anymore. He hoped he had not relied on her too much those past weeks.

Overall, he was unable to account for what she meant to him, as he was not very in touch with the things he felt beyond the impressionistic effects they inspired. She was kind and beautiful, but he did not want her that way, and even if he did, in some ways, want her, the last thing the world needed was another of his illegitimate children, running around, trapped inside a sad and lonesome existence. Her friendship was very important to him any how. He sensed its unconditional nature, and he knew that was rare for him, even amongst women who’d always had, for some reason, a penchant for fussing over his security as if he were a helpless creature even as he was not, and it had been like this since he was young. He was grateful and hoped to preserve her devotion with his own, though he would not have blamed her if she drifted away from him to find her own way and another man who would love her how she deserved. He just thought that, like him, she was prone to pleasing others almost like a compulsion, and he hoped that she did not come to rely too strongly on this aspect of herself. For he had fallen prey to that mistake, and it had cost him many years and in some ways, was still costing him to this day, even as he didn’t really know it.

Seeing Albert that night was like being crushed by a boulder. He was flattened and then at ease. Arthur realized something, which was that when you really know someone, and they really know you, not seeing them for a while does not cause disintegration of the ties that bind you. He, perhaps, did not realize how well Albert seemed to know him until that night. It took him for a fool.

“How are you?” Albert said as he closed the door behind them. His eyebrows went up with worry so you could see the little line in between them.

“I’m okay,” said Arthur. He held his hat with two hands in front of him. Glancing around he could see all of the things in the room and how they reminded him of Albert. Everything seemed neatly made and curated. He could tell which parts were just the hotel and which parts were Albert and his artistic regimen. There were the photographs, the little Chinese lanterns, a fine porcelain tea set and stacks and stacks of books. Arthur set his hat down on the purple sofa. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” said Albert, smiling after Arthur with a kind of weariness and relief. “John and Mary Beth came to see me.”

“I know they did,” said Arthur, taking a step toward him.

“They said you’d been in a bad scrape. Are you all right?”

Arthur nodded. “Mostly.”

“What happened?” said Albert. He was eager, but Arthur could tell he was trying to hold back. “I mean—will you tell me what happened?”

Arthur sighed. He spoke calmly. The room was dim, lit only with the Chinese lanterns and one little lamp by the window where he could tell Albert had been reading. “You remember when we got ambushed by those rough fellers out in the Big Valley that time?” he said.

“Of course,” said Albert. “How could I forget?”

“Well, it turns out that weren’t random. They wanted me, and, a few weeks ago, they got me. Or, their friends did, and their boss.”

Albert listened. “Why?” he said.

“Because,” said Arthur, “before you I ain’t much consorted with good people all that often, Albert. The man who—well let’s just say he’s a sorry son of a bitch and there’s a lot of bad blood. But it’s over now, and I’m alive.”

Outside, there was a bird on a wire, singing softly to the moon. Arthur wondered what kind of bird that was, singing in the nighttime. It was not so late that the tavern had silenced though, and you could hear the faint drumming of the voices below.

Albert smiled, nervous. “All right.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Albert studied Arthur then with a very strong focus. It was the kind of face he usually saved for his pictures, like he was searching for the thing that told the story. “If you say so,” he said.

Arthur went over to the photographs hanging from the clothesline. He sat down on the bed. It creaked beneath his weight. He hunched a little and placed his head in his hands. “The truth is,” he went on, feeling tired, “I’m just—I’ve been very bored, Albert. My life is filled with tedium. These past weeks, mostly all I did was read trashy novels given to me by Mary Beth, draw pictures of the water, heal, and think about you. I am relieved to be here.”

Albert had his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a pair of brown trousers with a light shirt, the collar undone. He came over and sat beside Arthur on the bed. “Does Mary Beth like to read?” he said.

“Very much,” said Arthur. “She reads more than anyone I know, and she reads more than just crap. But I guess she’s on some sort of crap spree lately, and she was dragging me along with her.”

Albert laughed at this, glanced. “She seems lovely.”

“She is,” said Arthur. “She’s a very good friend.”

Albert took a deep breath. He removed his hands from his pockets and placed them in his lap, looking at them. “I thought of you a lot as well, these past couple of weeks,” he said, smiling to himself. “And good god, have I been bored.”

Arthur found this amusing. “What you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” said Albert. “The usual. Playing poker with magicians and taking pictures of French women holding balloons in the park.”

“Sounds incredibly strange to me,” said Arthur.

“I’ve also been reading,” he said. “Some things in Harper’s. Henry James. Dreadful stuff, bored me about to death. I think I would have preferred the crap spree with Mary Beth.”

“Well, that’s your own fault,” said Arthur. “If there’s anyone who deserved to be hanged, drawn, and quartered for his actions, it is Henry James.”

Albert chuckled. “Read him, have you?”

Arthur sort of waved this off. “I’ve read everything,” he said. “James is by far the worst. There are instruction manuals with more verve, if you ask me.”

Albert became wistful. “I missed you,” he said. “That was the consensus at the end of each day.”

“Yeah, me, too,” said Arthur. With little hesitation then, he picked up Albert’s hand. He studied the knuckles and how they were not so scarred as his own. He felt hurried, deep inside his chest. With his thumb, he traced the skin. Albert’s hands were not small. They were not as big as Arthur’s but they were not small. They were just finer.

They looked at each other then, at the same time, as if summoned. Arthur felt himself getting lost. “I’m feeling things,” he said, strangely.

Albert was there with him, inconspicuous in his anxieties. He seemed to feel the same way, however. “Me, too,” he said.

Arthur took a breath then, and they kissed, for the second time in their entire lives. It had been some weeks coming, and they were weightless from it. Nothing had changed. Their need, if anything, had actualized with time. This kiss was deeper and more meaningful than the last. For they had already done it once, and they knew it would work.

They parted briefly, as if to catch their breath and to look at one another in a sort of new awe. They were not simple men, but this thing between them, it was simple. They kissed again, and this time, it escalated. They were feeling past buttons and collars now, slipping out of their suspenders. Arthur leaned in to press Albert’s back to the bedspread. It was an instinct he understood, and Albert gave easily, tugging him closer by the collar, then by the waist. With his lips to Albert’s throat, Arthur felt himself letting go, but the moment he placed his full weight on his hands in front of him and began to lower, his left side seized painfully. The pain was bright and fast. It shot through out of nowhere and took over as an electric current, and he froze. He grunted loud, hung his head and took a deep breath through his nose, constricting his lungs so as not to expand them too quickly, as that hurt as well. He was disappointed and pissed off. The atmosphere, whatever it was between them sending them on their way, it dissolved instantly.

“Arthur?” said Albert. He hauled him up, back sitting with his feet both on the floor. Desperately concerned, he noticed the way Arthur was leaning and how he held that left side so gingerly. His shallow breaths were very disconcerting. “What’s the matter? How hurt are you?”

Arthur shook his head. It all seemed to be a great effort for him with his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” said Albert.

“I’m—” He composed himself, resituated on the bed so that he could face Albert but he kept his head hanging somewhat. “I guess I ain’t as healed as I thought I was. Or maybe the ride did me. I don’t know.”

Albert blinked. He placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, as if to comfort him, but he then seemed to realize how vastly he had underestimated what was going on. Assertively, he assessed Arthur’s posture and then pushed the shirt back off his shoulders, exposing the massive web of brand new, pink scar tissue in his shoulder and the fading but still ripe bruises around his lower left side. Arthur did not protest, even as he seemed embarrassed. The sight of him greatly disturbed Albert. “Oh, Arthur,” he said, shaking his head. He touched the scar with his fingertips, looked up. “This is not good.”

“I’m fine,” said Arthur, again. He shut his eyes and breathed. The pain was subsiding even as it was still something severe. “Really, I’m fine. You should've seen it before.” But then he felt Albert, further examining the bruises, the scar and all of the messed up business that had become his body. When he opened his eyes again and saw Albert’s face and the concern illustrated there so profoundly he didn’t know what to say.

“You don’t deserve this,” said Albert, looking straight at him.

Arthur shook his head, incredulous all of a sudden. “Albert, you don’t—”

“Yes,” said Albert, “I do. I know you. I don’t know what happened, but I know you, and you don’t deserve this.”

Arthur felt somewhat frayed. It seemed to take him by the throat. He had rarely encountered this sort of tenderness with men, and he had never processed what happened with Colm. It was too much for some reason, and when he blinked there were hot tears which he wiped away and bit back as quickly as they had materialized in the first place. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Arthur,” said Albert. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I know. I—”

Albert took him by the hand. He held it in both of his. Arthur could not remember what he was going to say.

“I know it is usually you dragging me up from the ledge, dear friend,” said Albert, “but there is a first time for everything, I suppose. Here we are.”

Arthur shut his eyes. It was almost funny.

“Please stay here tonight,” Albert continued.

Arthur gazed at him, feeling his pride going away, feeling helpless. “Okay.”

“Okay,” said Albert

He didn’t ask anymore questions after that or make any presumptions about what Arthur was or was not. A trolley went by, ringing its stupid bell as they continued holding hands, and there were voices of the people as there always seemed to be so many of them even in the late hours, moving through the streets, moving through their lives doing whatever it was they did with such speed. The nighttime bird on the wire had moved along now, leaving them alone. They were alone.      

[awakeningofthedeath]

Awakening of the Death: Chapter #30

A day and a half passed on as the Swift and Armor train cars that contained the two rouge assassins in one of the empty cattle cars. Jack and Hellen spent most of the travel time in nothing but the sound of the tracks clanking and the feel of their beating hearts. Hellen loved to have Jack close to her. She never minded every scar and flaw that he felt upon her. She wanted to be nothing but close to him without interruptions; yet the mile markers indicated to them that they would be approaching Kansas City as soon as the sun set.

As the miles gotten closer to the stockyards stations, Jack and Hellen had to put on their clothes and hide behind the giant hay pile in case of any rail inspectors, which had happened before in several stations along the way. None of the inspectors were harmed or killed whilst the couple hid. The only bloodshed the had one time was when a train hopper tried to load in the car and saw the naked couple. Jack only had to push the hobo off to where the man fell too close to the rail and the sound of cracking bones and a dying man’s screams made both Jack and Hellen shiver to the core. They both kept quiet holding each other until they saw the sight Hellen had not seen in years. The observatory buildings of the Kansas City stockyards were of a mass that Jack had never seen, with the rich smell of livestock and smokes from the factories around the city area across the river.

When the train ceased to a halt, Hellen and Jack took several seconds to grip their sacks before darting towards the exit, and barely got off intone before the men would see them before lowering the loading ramp. Seeing their breaths in the chilled air, Jack followed Hellen through a labyrinth of wooden panels and fences, the smell of cattle laced thick in the air, a scent Jack found it surprisingly strong. His only experience with cattle was during his stay in India, where the cattle were worshiped, decorated, and respected. These cattle, to which Jack passed by as he and Hellen traveled towards the observatory docks, were larger and more muscular than any he’d seen. Some of them had horns as thick and as long as Jack’s arms stretched out. Hellen climbed upon one of the beams to the deck, with Jack following behind. The wood creaked as they snuck across.

“This place has gotten bigger since I was last here.” Hellen commented on the expanse viewpoint of pens where cattle cried out to one another

“So if this were the cattle area, the horses can’t be too far.” Hellen made a turn to where other panels were set.

“Kansas City here is the biggest in the horse and mule market, My pa used to come here to buy horses to train them, only to sell them again for more than what he paid for. I went with him a few times. First time I was possibly 5 to 8 when I snuck away for a bit and road an ass bare assed. Surprised my pa never gained a grey hair with all the hell I’d given him.”

Jack chuckled, which surprised Hellen.

“Seems to me you tried to be Lady Godiva.”

“Never heard of her.”

“She was a noblewoman from long ago who stood for what was right against her husband’s poor decision making on taxes by riding in the streets naked upon her horse. Legend even said that a man named Thomas watched her ride and was struck blind or dead.”

Hellen gave a cheerful laugh. “Oh I like her! She’d be good company. Maybe perhaps, I could be your lady bare upon a horse when away from the bull’s viewpoint.” Jack gave a signature smirk, thinking the beautiful image of Hellen on a horse’s back. 

The couple found the horse and mule area where the equines munched upon what hay remained in each of the pens. Some of them contained a maximum of four to five in each pen. Jack watched as Hellen observed each pen looking upon the animals. He could hear Hellen’s frustration as she failed to find a stead that would possibly carry both of them. Whilst she searched, Jack’s eyes wondered to the pens behind him, where there in a large pen with only by it’s self was a beautiful buckskin mare with a white sock on it’s left hind contrasting against the other three blackened legs. It’s eyes meet Jack’s as she walked towards his position. 

“Seems to me I have competition Jackass.” Hellen’s chuckled as Jack turned to face her.

“I don’t suppose this one could work.”

Hellen slipped between the fence gaps as she examined the mare. She lifted her hooves, checked her teeth, and examined her back. “This one is well conditioned. Probably one of the handler’s horses. Still, we’re going to need a saddle and the gear. I’m going to check the tack area. I’ll be back.” And Hellen pecked a kiss on Jack’s lips as she went towards the building again. Seeing that Jack was alone with the horse, he leaned on the fence, his mind thinking about the recent few months he and Hellen had been together, and asking himself, why is he here? Why didn’t she come home sooner? 

Minutes later, Hellen came back carrying a saddle with a bridle with a snaffle bit on top of the saddle’s horn. An old red blanket was held from underneath the saddle as well. Jack managed to grab the woolen horse blanket as it slipped in between when Hellen hoisted the saddle upon a railing to keep in shape. She slipped back into the pen and grabbed first the blanket and the bridal. Wraping the mare’s neck with one of the split rings, Hellen kept her in control as she gently pushed the head down to have her thumb into the corner of it’s mouth, where the horse’s mouth opened and Hellen snuck the snaffle into the mouth and positioned the bridal. Testing the horse’s ability to ground tie, to which was successful, Hellen took the woolen blanket, folded it around to a half as big as the saddle and positioned it onto the horse’s wither’s in the correct position. She then grabbed the saddle and placed it upon the blanketed back. Hellen first handled the front chinch before the rear, and to finally finish bu adjusting the breast collar. Hellen then took each of the strips, measured them by comparison to her arm, and fixed them to the correct length. Hellen patted the mare’s neck, she led her to the gate. Jack opened the gate allowing them to walk through. The sound of the horse’s shoes echoed on the brick pathway. 

Hellen grabbed the horse’s mane and hoisted herself into the saddle. “I suppose you’d never rode a horse before.” Hellen asked.

“Only when I needed to. A few times while I was in India. Knew how to drive a carriage though.” Jack answered, feeling slightly embarrassed. 

“Get on the fence, I’ll side pass this horse to you so you can rise double. Thank the heavens above she’s a strong looking mustang. Big for her average height.” Hellen used her legs and slight in and out of the pressure on the reins to have the mare’s legs cross over each other as Jack climbed the fence. As Jackcarefully packed himself behind Hellen, he wrapped his arms around her waist, making her sink into his chest. 

“Better not tempt me Jackass, or we both will fall off this...”

“Oy! Jesse! Marcus is dead! And the tack storage was opened! Check the horse pens!” 

The sound of a man’s shouting echoed into the darkness. Lanterns were lite, and moving towards the area.

“Hold on tight Jack. Not sure how fast this gal can go with the two of us, but we have no choice.”

Hellen soured the mare into a short trot transitioning into a gallop. The sound of hooves on brick echoed in a familiar pattern Jack knew in London at times when Jacob would drive. The difference being feeling the moment of this valiant’s beasts mussels as she left those behind the dust. Then suddenly, without warning, he felt Hellen leaning forward with him following as the mare jumped over a broken part of a vacant pen. Hellen steamed past other workers, with Jack kicking some of them whop tried climbing onto the beast. When they escaped the area, Hellen ran the horse for a good distance for a mile, until they stopped at the base of the Missouri River. 

The River looked so peaceful and still, that it never seemed to have a current. Hellen later explained to Jack that the Missouri was actually more deadly when entering in, known for the under toes and deadly looking driftwoods. As Hellen guided the horse towards the docks of a farrier rafts, Hellen pointed towards the upper part of the river. “Collin told me a story once of how he and my pa almost got a rich templar on a mission on a steamboat called the Arabia back in ‘56. Unfortunately, the Templar escaped due to a stuck of bad luck on his part when the boat struck a tree stump floating in the river, Sad that the only victim in that was a mule. That and loads of cargo meant for many towns. Might be a kings fortune.”

When Hellen halted the mare, Jack slipped off, feeling rather tender in the thighs, but managed to stand upright. He turned and held the horse for Hellen as she dismounted. They walked to the assumed farrier, an older gentleman with a grizzled beard and blue eyes the color of ice. “What can I do for you kind folks?” He asked in a southern accent.

Hellen pulled out some silver dollars and handed it over to the man. “We need to cross to the Missouri side as soon as possible!”

The man looked at the money then back to the couple. “Funny for the woman to talk matters of sales instead of your man here.”

Before Jack could say anything, Hellen slightly tabbed his boot with her own, signaling him to keep quiet. “He can’t speak sir. His tongue was cut off during the war with the red skins.” 

“Is that so?” The man asked, looking at Jack with a questioning look. “What she say is true boy?” Jack nodded. “Did you lose it before or after this lovely bride of your allowed her horse out of the barn?”

 Jack gave a glare and gave him a hard punch, causing the man to tumble into the banks of the river. He stood back up, blood and water dripping. Hellen held Jack back with her hand, giving a secret wink. “Now darling, you know the man is possibly a loose canon on the tongue. Oh!” Hellen gave a gasp. “Jack I’m so sorry, that was uncalled for! Forgive me?” Jack smiled, and gave her a gentle kiss. This kiss was the softest Hellen experience, not that it was for the facade, but genuine in tenderness. When they parted, the man was pressing a handkerchief on a blood spot on his cheekbone. 

“I begin your pardon ma’am, and to you sir. Your very blessed to have a gal to speak for you.”

Jack responded with a nod.

“So yes. I can get you two and your Hoss to the other side. I can tell you two must of just took the train in order to buy a horse.”

“Yes we did. And I must say, she’s worth a steal.” 

Jack smiled at the joke Hellen made secretly for their situation.

The couple lead the mare to the large raft big enough for a covered wagon and a team, and the man guided them through the currents. Hellen left a little uneasy in the stomach as they made the passes, but ignored the small discomfort as they grew closer to the Missouri shores. 

Home.

For the first time in over thirteen years. She was back in her home state

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Artifice | Chapter Four

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE START HERE

[A/N: Heads up, this is a bit of a backstory chapter. Nothing too extensive, but now that this is a full story, I have to backtrack a little] 

“Tienes que concentrarte en el arte, Beca” His words were sharp and laced with a hissing venom. It dripped past his tongue, picked up on every aspect of his thick accent. Each syllable was over pronounced and drawn out. His chin was held higher than his ego at this point, back against a clay wall. It was undeniably steaming from the Spanish sun that bore down on the pair.

His skin was like leather, wrinkled and worn from the countless hours spent in the whitewashed courtyard, a thick sweat forming right above the mans’ brow. He didn’t make another advance towards the young painter- the ran welt on her cheek enough to quell his movements for more than a few moments.

Beca breathed in deeply, chewing the inside of her jaw. Her ear was ringing, pulsing with her heartbeat pounding against the inside of her wrist. He had struck her before, never this hard, never with this much passion behind his movements. She clenched the graphite closer to her palm, not shifting at the black mark it created on her skin.

“vete a la mierda” She grumbled out with discontent. “You don’t think I’m trying, Christian?”

He wrinkled up his nose, making his aged features look even more so. This man, the one in front of her, was supposed to be a skilled painter. One that Beca had traveled months to follow in studies. It took another thirty days to even convince the borderline drunk to give up his seat at the tavern and pick up a pencil again. Except, he hadn’t. Not in the past four weeks.

All Christian Calderon had done so far was lecture the brunette about art styles on his rooftop garden. Something that was a bit extravagant and overlooked the city of Madrid. A beautiful view that Beca wanted to sketch the second she got a good look at the expertly crafted buildings and streetways.

Calderon had refused it, though, stating that she was under his teachings now. She placed her instrument to the paper when, and only when, he allowed it. Now was not one of those times- her back resting against the far side of the wall, a ripe apple in her hands, growing warm from the lack of storage.

“I know you’re not trying,” He let out an exasperated sigh, running his hand through his dark mane of pitch hair. “If you were attempting to see what I am to instruct, then we would not be having this conversation, and I would have had to-“

“Strike me?” She asked, toying with the sarcasm in her voice, “I got it.”

“Then tell me,” he squatted down in front of her, gently, placing his hand over hers as he pulled the apple up to her view, her midnight stare focusing hard on the piece of fruit that he had picked from the tree in a yard three blocks over. “What do you see?”

‘hungry’ hadn’t been the right answer, and neither had red. Beca was stating the obvious at this point. She had even gone as far as stepping into a few different hues of the bloody color, but all was met with a hard glare and an even harder smack to the face. Not out of ill will, out of discipline. She understood- but the taste of iron was itching at her tongue and clawing at her throat. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take of it.

“Please, young one.” His voice began to crack under the pressure. Christian hating this almost as much as she did. Hated drawing his hand back and bringing it against already irritated bone. “Tell me.”

She drew in a small breath, fingers digging into the malleable skin of the fruit. It was smooth, weighted in her palm as she spun it to the side. It was just an apple, the same thing she had seen at every bodega, hanging off of multiple oaks that reached towards the sky- and pressed its branches into the blue depths.

“I uh,” She swallowed thickly, “I see summer, I suppose.”

Beca drew back, wincing involuntarily for a strike that never made contact. He just stared, his chestnut eyes not showing any type of emotion or sign that she was right. A sign that was wrong would have been worse, however, her stance tightening.    

“Red can mean war,” She sounded out carefully, “But it can also mean love. Something that took the time to form around one tiny seed in the soil. It wasn’t instant, but it was there. It grew, and it flourished, and now it’s sitting in my hand in the warmth of a mid-day sun.”

Christian lifted his chin in the slightest of ways, rolling his shoulders back. “Take a bite.”

She was hesitant, raising the item to her lips as she stared at the gold flecks that circled the man's pupil. He didn’t’ make a move to interject, her tongue tankful for the change in taste as sweet juices dribbled off her chin and soaked into her cotton shirt. She chewed slowly, eyes darting down to the sizable dent she had made in the fruit.

“Good,” he breathed out, stare darting to the sketch pad to her side. “When you paint, La Hija, you should remember this feeling of summer, and taste of apples- because it is all you have to hold onto. All you should allow yourself to display within the lines.”

She gulped back the residual taste, staring at him with wide composure. “You want me to?”

“Draw, young one.” He nodded solemnly “make it count.”

Beca Mitchell drew in a soft breath, fingers running over the smooth edge of the apple. It was a deeper shade of crimson than she had ever seen before- grown in different soil and brought up in a different climate of the world. It would be undoubtedly sweet, tooth-rotting.

She held it up, inspecting the bruising and the slight deformed edge that it had to its shape. It wasn’t perfect, but no apple was. The weight of it making her fingers ache. The brunette had lost her train of thought a few moments ago, listening to the steady chopping that Stacie provided each time her steel knife came down on the crisped edge of the fruit.

“I lost you a few minutes ago.” The taller of the two spoke out, swiping her palm against the wooden cutting board, brushing all the juicy pieces to the side tactfully. “Thinking about anything interesting?”

“I don’t like apples,” Beca said, instead, placing it down with a look of disdain on her features.

“Ah, what an eloquent speech you have been piecing together Madame Mitchell.”

“Fuck off,” A smile found it’s way to her lips regardless, she liked the way that Stacie teased and berated her. She didn’t’ tip-toe like the rest of the staff did. They wouldn’t even meet her eyes on most occasions, going about their work just like Beca had intended to do for the past three days of near silence in this place.

However, Chloe Beale is a hard woman to track down within the walls of this estate. It had become apparent to the young artist that if she wanted to be found, she would be. There was no point in looking for a woman who had no interest in the work that was sure to take place at some point- their shared conversation by the Southern swamp was the last she had seen of the girl in forty-eight hours.

For now, she sat at the island, residing to the far corner of the place while she watched Stacie prepare what looked like an apple dessert of some kind- maybe even a pie. She wasn’t sure- she was more focused on the woman’s movements; how fluid and precise they were compared to the clunky ones of her own. Residing to the fact that she was meant to be a painter and not a cook. She had even begun to sketch a rough drawing of the woman in front of her, messy and always coated in some form of baking material.

“Good thing this thing isn’t for you,” Stacie continued her train of thought. “Unless you can get past your unnatural distaste for apples?” She cocked an eyebrow, throwing a glance Beca’s way. By the scrunched-up expression on the woman’s face, she assumed that was a no. She didn’t question the girl, instead, bringing the sharpened edge of the knife into the crisp fruit.

“Does the woman of the house have a thing for them?”

“A thing?” Stacie sounded out carefully, “I would say no. What she does carry an affinity for is my apple cake. No one can refuse it.”

“Watch me, Conrad,” Beca grumbled under her breath. She couldn’t stand the thought of that sickeningly sweet taste anymore. It was just what Christian had taught her- it wasn’t about the object, but the feeling connected to it. This feeling was laced with dread and questioning of self-worth, something her old teacher mastered in. “Speaking of which, have you seen her?”

“Not for a few days,” She lifted her shoulders up slightly. “Are you that keen on packing up your brooding attitude and heading back out to sea?”

Beca drew in a careful breath. These last couple of days had been calming, albeit, strange. She hadn’t stressed the worry of where her next meal was coming from, or how early she had to wake up to be out of quarters before the real owner returned to their storefront. It wasn’t that she didn’t miss life on the streets, and crave for even one bit of danger, because she did. But it was so quiet, and still. She was stuck in time, frozen in golden amber with her wings raised and pension building.

“Aye aye.” Beca gave her a tantalizing wink. It was easier this way, to shove everything off with a light wave of the hand instead of going into her psyche with a girl she barely knew but felt connected to. She wasn’t afraid to talk with her, to open up and share the worries that plagued her.

“And what about you?” Beca asked, not sparing much detail. “Ever see yourself sailing against the Pacific?”  

“Mm, never.” Stacie shook her head. “That’s left for my brother, a sc-all-y wag.”

Beca had to bite down a laugh at the way the leggy brunette struggled through the word. Her tongue stuck out a bit from her lips, eyes staring up at the ceiling as she tried to place her words. It wasn’t natural, almost aloof. It brought a genuine smile to the smaller woman’s features, her fingers spinning the brown stem of the apple absently.

Both women glanced up as someone new entered the kitchen, Beca’s breath catching in her throat like it was sticky, the air humid from the working ovens overtime and the streaming sun still creating a large reflective rectangle against the tile. Chloe’s hair was wet from a shower, her lavender bath soap coating her throat and lungs. It was soothing, catching.

Chloe’s wild mane of copper locks flowed over her bloused chest. An armed guard strapped to her forearm and going up past her elbow. It made her arm look a little awkward and straight- but her shoulders were pulled back in a defined way. She flicked her royal stare to Stacie.

“Is that what I think it is?” She asked, a sprouted smile on her lips. Chloe breathed in strongly, a look of bliss making Beca sit back in her seat, the stem still between her forefingers.

“Mm-hm” Stacie wiggled a bit, shoving more apple pieces to the side, Chloe’s own eyes widening with excitement.

“Seriously,” Chloe pointed a finger towards Beca “her apple cake is the best thing in the whole entire world.”

“I wouldn’t’ go that far,” She laughed “Nothing is better than sex, including this cake.”

The girl let out a huff as she reached forward, attempting to dip her finger in the buttercream icing, resting softly in a spreadable pile. It almost looked too pure, too sweet. Stacie, however, batted the girl's hand away before she got a chance. “Chlo,”

“Come on,” She groaned like a child, Beca smirking until her jaw was sore. She had only seen a poised side of the woman, the type where every little movement was overthought. She had even gotten a taste of the dangerous and daring woman who knew how to fence like no other. But not this, not a girl struggling to get a hold of sweets, just waiting to get scolded. “Stace, you expect me to wait all day?”

“That’s exactly what I expect you to do.” She snipped back, pulling the last apple from Beca’s grasp with a sparing glance. Chloe let out a discontent huff. She quickly got over it, flashing that indigo color back to Beca. It sent a wave of dissipating chills through her spine, lips parting slightly.

“Hi,” Chloe let out a long sigh, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“Hi,” Beca rolled her shoulders back pulling her arm over the edge of the chair so she could turn to face the woman more, her other hand resting on the table, a leather-clad book under her fingertips. It seemed she took it everywhere, palms coated in black charcoal.

“You need to get changed.” Chloe scanned the length of her stare over Beca, the girl in long sleeves and even longer pants- her whole body always having a bit of a chill to it despite how many layers she allowed herself to hold, Stacie cocking her head to the side.

“What? Why?” Beca held her arm out a bit, staring down at her dark clothing.

“I am going to teach you how to fence,” Chloe stated matter-of-factly.

Beca squinted her dusky eyes, “Gee that sure sounds like fun, Chloe, but I would rather take that fork and stab myself in the throat.”

Stacie drew in a careful breath, slowly pushing the metal utensil away from the small artist. Chloe crossing her arms over her chest as she elicited an amused scoff. “You want to get to know me? Well, you have to know fencing first.”

“It’s a sport with pointy things that you thrust into the air.” Beca waving her hand in the air.

“No,” Chloe took a small step forward “It’s a practice of agility and swift movements that help regulate heart rate and overall pain tolerance. Kind of like painting.” Beca raised her eyebrows, bemused. “Get changed, Picasso. Meet me in the yard in twenty.”    

[tornrose24]

Only a voice, part 2 (A Moana AU fan fic inspired by the Little Mermaid)

Note that this fan fic can also be found on fan fiction.net under my other name (HolyMaiden24). See notes for more details.

Note that in this AU, everyone is out voyaging. The heart of Te Fiti was never stolen, but there are still dangers in the ocean. However there are still reasons as to why Chief Tui doesn’t want Moana out on the ocean, as you will learn pretty soon. Now I, like so many others, am not super familiar with the Polynesian cultures, but I will do my best (and thankfully I own a copy of ‘The Art of Moana’ to help me somewhat). If I ever write something that goes against the culture or is not accurate, please let me know. Something important to keep note of: fale- a type of house. They vary in apperance and some can be used fro ceremonial or religious purposes (from what I understand). tapa- this was a type of ‘cloth’ made from a certain tree. Those tapestries in the beginning of the film were made with these (again, from what I do understand). Hoani- a Maori name. If it is not accurate I will use a different name.

Quite a few years had passed since Moana had been kidnapped by the kakamora, but that itself was a minor occurence compared to what else was occuring around the southern seas of the world. On an island somewhere close to Motonui (and yet not quite) a certain catastrophe was about to occur as the sun was setting as a large bird crashed through the roof of the Chief’s fale. A number of the villagers and the chief himself immediately responded to the occurance and when they made it into the fale, there was one huge hole in the roof of the fale, but it was nothing compared to who was inside the building. “I didn’t think something as precious as this could get in the hands of humans, but I guess you guys find your ways.” A muscular man who almost seemed to be as large as a mountain with a series of tattoos on what seemed to be every inch of his body commented as he held up a necklace in one hand while the other held a large fish hook over his shoulder. If it wasn’t the tattoos that showed his accomplishments, then it was the fish hook that gave away his true identity. “What is it supposed to be for, a wedding present or is this a ceremonial trinket?” He asked as he held the necklace up. It was a beautiful necklace with carefully woven fibers holding together pecies of shells, bones, and a very lovely red stone that would clearly shine under the right lighting. “That is a gift for the family of the Chief of Motonui!” The chief snarled as he took a few steps closer to the man. “I did not promise that to you as payment for protecting us from those monsters!” “Yeah, true.” The man nonchalantly began. “Except I don’t recall you giving me the supplies I asked for as payment. That was all I asked for, and yet you decided that even something as simple as that wasn’t worth giving away. So unless this is a big deal to you guys–which it isn’t–then I’ll take it from you guys as a reminder not to cheat someone out of a deal ever again.” He looked up at the roof. “Plus you now have some much needed lighting in this place, so it wasn’t that bad of a trade off, right?” The chief yelled out in fury as he took a spear from one of his men and charged at the large man. He sighed as he lowered his hand, swung his hook out, and the markings upon it glowed with a blue light. Within moments his form shifted to that of a large brown hawk that not only knocked the chief to the ground as he turned around, but he charged through to the ceiling, dodged quite a few spears that were sent up at him, and made a second large hole in the ceiling when he made his get away. It was quite a nice addition to the archetiecture, he thought to himself. “GET BACK HERE, MAUI!” The Chief yelled at the hawk as his men tried to help him up. “I WILL TELL THE OTHERS WHAT YOU HAVE, DONE, YOU HEAR ME?! YOU CAN’T TAKE WHAT WASN’T PROMISED TO YOU!”
The hawk let out a laugh as he flapped his wings and got away from the island as fast as he could. “It’s always the ones who talk big that I don’t have to worry about!” He spoke to himself. The bird flew to a boat that was hidding behind a large rock and it was there that the bird changed into a man who dropped onto the boat and quickly undid its binds to one of the smaller rocks. There was still a smirk on the man’s face as the wind blew into his wild mane of dark hair, yet his brown eyes had already lost their mischeviousness that he was sometimes more known for over his heroic feats. “Heh,” He paused long enough to look at the necklace, which held no true value for him other then serving as a reminder that those people didn’t really appreciate all that he had done for them. How often did that even happen anymore? He had helped humanity for so long that they were taking his services for granted. “Even their ‘thank yous’ are getting hallower than an empty coconut.” He mused as he was able to let the sails of his boat go and the wind quickly took him away from the island. When was the last time he could remember a ‘thank you’ being so sincere and full of appreciation? Unknown to him, someone had been watching everything that had happened from start to finish. From Maui’s success with driving the monsters away to the instant he had escaped, as well as the moment he was denied a reward. Honestly, the stupid look of offense and shock he had on his face when that happened would make a good memory to laugh at for many decades to come. With a deep chuckle, he sank down into the depths of the ocean as he began to see that there might be something that could work to his advantage. And finally get the revenge he so rightfully desired.

“Alright, that was wonderful!” A sixteen year old Moana clapped her hands together after finishing the dancing lesson with her young students. “You all are going to be amazing!” “But none of us dance as wonderfully as you do, Moana!” A little girl exclaimed. “When the Chief and his people from the other island come to visit, you will be the best dancer of us all!”
“And you will look so pretty in your ceremonial attire!” Another girl beamed. “You’ll be the most beautiful of all the ladies!” Moana let out a laugh as Pua came to brush against her legs. “I wouldn’t make claims like that, but I appreciate it!” She picked Pua up and waved to the children. “Bye!” She then gently grabbed one of Pua’s front feet and playfully waved it at the children. “‘Bye-bye!’” She pretended to say on Pua’s behalf. “Bye!” “Bye, Moana!” Moana smiled as she walked away. “You’d think that for once we would get to go to the islands and perform for them instead.” She told Pua as she turned to the ocean and let out a sigh of longingness. “If only father would stop being afraid and let me go.” She had only one time out on the ocean and she never forgot it. Yet she wanted to trully experience the ocean and feel the wood of a canoe under her feet and the wind blowing through her hair. Getting kidnapped, fighting for her life, and getting blinded was not the same as that. “You remember when we got to be out on the ocean, don’t you Pua?” Pua let out an uncomfortable grunt. “Yeah, those things did want to make you their dinner.” Moana agreed. “Ever since I was found that night, father became very adamant that I wouldn’t go near the shore without someone by my side, let alone anywhere near a canoe.” Moana reflected as she continued to walk towards her grandma’s fale. “I told the story and he didn’t believe anything other than that I was out at sea.” She frowned. “I know it has been many years since his friend drowned in the ocean, and I know he forbade me and mother to leave with him since he fears that history will repeat itself. But I wish he could trust me enough to at least let me learn under someone! How can I be the future Chief if I am not allowed to go to the other islands, Pua?!” When she briefly turned away, she could see that Heihei the rooster was trying to peck at a bush for reasons that could only make sense to him. “Any day now, he’ll walk right to a cook and serve himself as our next meal.” She chuckled. She had done everything to save Heihei, but with each attempt to speak on his behalf, it seemed the dumb bird gave the cook a new reason to prep him for dinner. She almost wanted to know what went on through Heihei’s head but she doubted it would be anything enlightening for her own benefit. She glanced back to the ocean as she continued her walk. She thanked the gods that her blindness only lasted for a short time and that she could enjoy the sight of the ocean in all of its beauty. She couldn’t explain it, but... “I feel like each time I look at the ocean, it keeps calling to me. It wants to appologize for what almost happened to me.” She mused. She had tried to double her efforts to respect the ocean since then and sometimes she talked to the water when no one was looking. She prayed that it would guide her father on safe voyages and that one day it would do the same for her when her time would come. “Perhaps I am going to be the next village crazy lady.” Moana laughed. “Maybe I should learn a thing or two about that from Grandma Tala. She would glady welcome a successor.” Grandma Tala was in her fale when Moana found her and the eldery woman was once again recounting tales of monsters and gods to a group of young children. Moana set Pua outside and walked right in as Grandma Tala finished up another story. “And that is why our days are long and productive.” Grandma Tala was obviously recounting a tale about Maui slowing down the sun. “With the aid of his magical fish hook, Maui helped us grow our crops and give us time to enjoy the rest of the day.” “And without his help, we would surely be lost in darkness and grow hungry.” Moana chimmed in, causing the children to turn around to face her and the old woman to smile at her granddaughter. “Maui has faced many monsters and many dangers that most wouldn’t dare try to face.” Moana smiled at the tapa that depicted the demi-god and the animals that he shape shifted into. Some of his stories were among her favorite tales that Tala herself told to her. “All he has done has been on our behalf because he is very fond of mortals. It would be good fortune if one were to ever meet him, and yet because he takes on different forms we could go through our whole lives not knowing that we have seen him. No matter how many versions of his tales are told, he will always be remembered as a hero to all. I know that I myself would love to have his daring and cunningness in the most difficult of times.” Moana admitted with a chuckle. “But Maui isn’t always nice.” A boy told Moana and all the children looked at him. “My dad said that he likes to trick people to get what he wants and sometimes he’ll try to do impossible things to boast about just because he can.”
“Yeah, didn’t he rip off a monster’s leg one time for no reason?” Another boy asked as he pointed to a certain tapa. Moana turned around to see that the particular tapa depicted a giant monster crab. The crab’s face looked a little comical, and yet there was a sinisterness about him that made it clear that he was not to be taken so lightly. “Tamatoa?” Moana approached the tapa and placed a hand on the crab. “Well, he is one of the most dangerous creatures in all of Lalotai. Some actually think he was once a great warrior or a lost member of a royal family who was either cursed or came back as a crab. He loves treaure more than anything in the world and he will decorate himself with them like they’re jewellry–” A few children laughed at this. A crab who loves to wear treasures? What a silly thought! “–but he also uses it to attract his prey.” Moana recounted as she turned to the children with a big grin. “The shinier something is, the more he’ll want it, so you better make sure you don’t have anything like that on you!” She pretended to snatch at them with her hand as if it were a claw, causing a few children to recoil away from her. “He might think ‘Oh, what a nice looking bracelet’! Perhaps I shall take it off that cute child’s tiny wrist!’” She spoke in a deep voice when she pretended to be Tamatoa and she did the motion again to the nearest little girl who let out a giggle and playfully patted Moana’s hand away. “‘Tamatoa must have every shiny, sparkly thing that he sees!’” Moana growled in delight. “He was also once a good friend of Maui’s.” Grandma Tala added. “Both were equally prideful and loved to boast about their accomplishments until one day they had an arguement and Maui tore one of Tamatoa’s legs off. No one knows what the arguement was, but even to this day, Tamatoa has not regained that leg. It is said that he is waiting for the chance to have his revenge on Maui for his loss.” One of the boys scoffed. “So? He’s just a dumb crab!” “A big crab!” Another boy reminded him. “But be warned children.” Grandma Tala added as her voice took on a sinister tone. “For they say that Tamatoa had become so obsessed with making himself beautiful with his treasures to compensate for his ugliness, that he is not as sane as he once was. He even started to develop a taste for humans just to keep gaining more trinkets. There is no telling just how much further he would go to accomplish his goals. Remember my children– outer appearances and great accomplishments are fine and all, but they mean nothing without what is important on the inside.” She looked directly at Moana when she said those last words, as if she was trying to tell her something. “And appearances can be very deceving.” “So we won’t go near any shiny things.” A girl decided. “We’ll be safe.” “Except there is one final trap to be mindful of.” Moana couldn’t help but add. “He loves to use his voice to attract his prey if the treasures doesn’t cut it. They say his singing is as beautiful and hypnotic as he is ugly and selfish, so should he ever sing to you, it might already be too late!” She pretended to be Tamatoa again as she creeped towards the childen, her hands curled to resemble claws, and just when she was about to strike–
“For Te Fiti’s sake, I would think that you would make a better story teller than a chief!” “Ah!” A startled Moana broke her act and she turned around to face Chief Tui. “Father!” “Son!” Grandma Tala chuckled before turning to the children. “That is all for today, but I hope you remember that story for the sake of the future. Farewell for now.” The children got up off the floor and waved to the Chief and his family before they hurried off to go out to play. “If not a storyteller, then perhaps a crab.” Tui mused before turning to Moana with a smile. “I hear that you’re dancing is coming along well; keep up the good work, but remember that there is still so much that needs preparation before Chief Hoani comes.” He told her before walking away from the fale as Pua scrambled to get inside. Moana frowned as she walked up to Grandma Tala and the tapa of Maui. “I could do so much more for Motonui besides dancing for the other Chiefs and talking with them. If only he would let go of that fear of losing me.” Moana spoke as she placed a hand over Maui’s fish hook. If only she could have it, so that she could turn into one of his creatures and get away from here for at least one day. She envied the demi-god more than she ever had in her life. “He’ll learn eventually that you must go out into the world to learn as much as you can.” Grandma Tala told Moana. “I want to be there for my people, but sometimes wish I could be as free as Maui.” Moana said as she looked at the demi-god, who seemed so fierce in this depiction on the tapa and yet so much like the trickster they said he was. “I sometimes wish I never went back to Motonui when I had been taken away.” She closed her eyes. “I know what they all expect of me, but I would give anything to be on the sea and live out more stories. I want to have both land and sea be part of my life without losing sight of who I am.” Tala understood her granddaughter’s frusterations perfectly. She had prayed to the gods that fortune could favor her family and she wished that Moana could find her happiness like Tui did with his people and with his family. She decided to change tactics and asked Moana “So you still haven’t learned who your rescuer was then?”
“All I know is that the man seemed so smug about what he had done, and yet there was a strange lonliness about him.” Moana admitted. “I still remember that voice and how full of life it seemed. Everything is is vague but that if I ever heard that voice again, I would know it was him, no question about it.” “Sounds like a man with his head at least partly attatched to his shoulders.” Grandma Tala chuckled. “But don’t worry, Moana,” She placed a reasuring arm around the girl. “If the sea knows how much you love it, I am sure it will one day take you back. Maybe one day I’ll see if there can be a way to get you off this island again if all doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to be. I want to see you live out a happy life, even if it is not the same as the life you dreamt of.” Moana smiled back. “Thanks Grandma.” The two walked out of the fale, but they didn’t notice that Pua was staring at them in frusteration. The pig then turned to the tapa of Maui and let out an annoyed grunt. It took him awhile to figure out who Moana’s rescuer was until he had sat through some of the tales of Maui and took a long look at the fish hook and the bird on the tapa. He knew that both the demi-god and the man who had saved him and Moana from those–ugh–pests, were one and the same. He wished deep down that there was a way for Moana to know that it was Maui who had saved her and who she had hugged that night. She didn’t notice any of his previous attempts to let her know, and she laughed them off if he wasn’t chased away by someone. Pua knew she would have liked it if she knew the truth.

Somewhere on a lone island in the dead of night, Maui stared at the useless necklace as he reflected on his accomplishments and tried to remember how long it took for the people to appreciate all he had done. It was a rare sight to see the normally upbeat demi-god seem withdrawn or a little depressed and he wanted to have his privacy for that exact reason. Yes, he had done many a great thing for the mortals. He pulled up islands, slowed down the sun, fought many monsters, and all of these feats were shown to the world in the form of his many tattoos. He was infused with this ocean and its myths as much as the gods were and he was a part of the world of humans in all but their lifespan. It was a never ending cyle. They would love him for all that he did for a few years, and then it would be like he never did anything at all to begin with. Then something would come up and then he would have to help them again, then they’d praise him, yada, yada, yada. It was really tiring to go through this. Every, single, generation, of humans. What else could he do to earn their love and adoration? He hated being stuck in-between two worlds sometimes. He knew for a fact that he didn’t want to be a god, due to the responsibilities (he knew for a fact that he would probably be the last person considered for such a position and it would not have been so fun if he couldn’t get to do whatever he liked anymore). Sometimes he wanted to retire and go back to being a human, even if a short lifespan scared the heck out of him. He felt something whacking against the left side of his chest and he looked down to see a smaller tattooed version of himself trying to get his attention. “What?” he demanded bitterly. The tattoo of himself–or Mini Maui as he refered that tattoo– pointed to something and he watched as a scene of a previous rescue played out on the left side of his chest. It showed the little girl and the pig he saved from the kakamora some time ago and it showed her reaching out to him, despite being unable to see at the time. He almost felt sorry for her back then, but her joy at her adventure was enough to quit the pitying. Mini Maui smiled at the girl and hugged her in a big embrace for a second before she was absorbed into him and the rest of the scene vanished. “Yeah, I remember the kid.” Maui said. “But she didn’t know it was me who saved her. I wouldn’t be suprised if she already died by now.” Another reason why it was not so fun being immortal. Almost everyone died before him, including too many children that he had met in his life. He sighed as he set the necklace aside and gazed upon the moon. “Don’t know if she would have wanted me around if she knew what she was getting herself into.” There was that one final problem- he was a danger to mortals as there was no telling what danger he would bring to them. Maui then realized that someone or something was right behind him while he had been distracted. He mentally cursed himself as he made to grab for his hook when that person spoke. “What’s a matter, little Maui? Not having fun saving those mortals you so adore?” Oh. Heck. No. He knew who it was. If it wasn’t the accent, then it was the tone of the voice–condescending, scheming, sinister when the owner so desired, and dangerous if used to lure a certain kind of prey–that gave him away. “I saw what happened on that island. Pretty ungreatful of them if you ask me. I would have done more then scare them and steal them blind if it were me, but why bother, right?” He laughed. “What do you want?” Maui demanded in a careful tone as his hand inched towards the hook. “Oh, I just want to know what is going on through your head right now, Maui man. Are you ready to give it all up and stop helping them? You can’t fight in every battle and save every one of those simple, fragile humans. Why should you if they turned your back on you once before?” Maui grabbed the hook and he heard the voice take a sharp intake of air. He probably remembered what happened the last time he saw that hook. Slowly the demi-god turned around and came face to face with a creature who almost shone in the moonlight thanks to the amount of treasures that somehow stuck to his shell. His eyes would have been considered a lovely shade of blue to anyone else, but one pupil was dialated and both eyes squinted at Maui with a careful gaurdedness that almost matched the smug smile on his face. Maui could also see out of the corner of his eye that the giant crab was still missing one of the legs on the left side of his body. “So what do you want to get off your chest, mon ami?” The crab grinned wide enough to reveal crooked teeth covered in barncales (much like his ‘chin’ if that was what it could be called). It never ceased to amaze Maui as to why such a voice as that could belong to something so... unappealing in apperance (and that was putting it kindly). “I mean that figuratively, of course, I don’t know if I want to see your tattoos come off your body. That would be a weird sight to see, but I digress. Ol’ Tamatoa is all... well I suppose I don’t have actual ears,” Tamatoa let out an unpleasant chuckle. “But I’ll still give it a listen.”

And now his Crabuloussness... err... the reason that some of you probably wanted to read this... ehh... Ok, yeah I’m fond of Tamatoa and he finally showed up. I’m a sucker for characters like him (you might already know that if you read my Zelda AUs) but... man is his song AWESOME! I wish he was in the film longer! Disney, please let him show up in a Moana short! You did shorts for Frozen and Tangled and they both featured antagonists from those films! Or at least give us a Moana musical instead of a Frozen musical, I’d give you my money for that! Poor Moana has no idea what she’s going to get trapped in the feud between Maui and Tamatoa *laughs*. My favorite part of the whole chapter to write out was the story-telling. I read from one particular article that the name Tamatoa is a name that came from a warrior and was also used within a certain Royal Family.... and that one reviwer in the article was very offended that Disney used that name for one of the antagonists in the film. As much as I like that name now, I can understand why that would seem offensive. That’s why I was inspired to add that one odd bit in the myth behind the character in this AU. Anyway, for those of you who are already making parallels, Pua IS meant to be like Max from the Little Mermaid, since he was the only one close to Eric who knew who Ariel was. Ok, I’ll shut up now. Let’s see where this goes and I don’t know if I can make a Tamatoa version of the song ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ but I can try to write out something that feels similar to that if its not a song.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 13th January 2019

Don’t expect these to come out on a specific day in the week, just expect them to come, alright? For what I suppose is the second season, I’m not pressuring myself to get them out always on a Wednesday or a Sunday, just any day possible, okay? I introduced this concept today because, yes, this is kind of late and yes, this week is tiring and for all I care, doesn’t exist. Let’s go.

Top 10

“Sweet but Psycho” by Ava Max is still at the top spot for what I think is either its third or fourth week at the top. It might even be fifth, I don’t know. Okay song, I’m surprised it’s gotten this big though.

Ariana Grande also isn’t moving since last week at the runner-up spot with “thank u, next”.

Up a spot from last week, however, is “Nothing Breaks Like a Heart” by Mark Ronson and Miley Cyrus.

Speaking of great songs succeeding, also up a single spot is “Wow.” by Post Malone, now at number-four, right next to his other song, in fact.

Yup, the current US Hot 100 #1 (and one of the best in God knows how long) is down two spots to number-five in the UK, and it’s “Sunflower” by Post Malone and Swae Lee, from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse.

Remember when Dave and Fredo debuted at #1, and it was just a really perplexing moment for me? Well, the dude’s done it again, as his new track with Headie One (who doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page, mind you), “18HUNNA”, has debuted at number-six. I’m assuming this is Headie One’s first anything, but I know this is Dave’s fifth top 40 hit and second top 10 hit over here, and to be fair, I’m actually starting to really like Dave, so I hope this is good, and I’m happy for the guy.

Oh, and in stark contrast, the absolutely dreadful James Arthur, with Anne-Marie on their cover of “Rewrite the Stars”, up a spot to number-seven.

A six-space gain for George Ezra at number-eight as “Hold My Girl” becomes his fifth top 10 hit.

Speaking of ballads that have grown on me, “Lost Without You” by Freya Ridings is also up three positions to number-nine.

Finally, “Without Me” by Halsey is up a space to #10. Cool, I guess.

Climbers

“Play” by Jax Jones and Years & Years is up eight spots off the debut to #11, “One Kiss” by Calvin Harris and Dua Lipa has end-of-year boosts to thank for its delayed 15-spot gain to #22, and that’s it. We might as well try and get the Returning Entries out of the way right now as well. I’m planning to experiment more with structure so see stuff like this being out of order coming.

Returning Entries

Again, thanks to the year ending and the BRITs nominations being revealed, some of the biggest hits of last year have had increases in streaming and such, meaning “I’ll be There” by Jess Glynne is back at #40 and “2002” by Anne-Marie is back at #37. That’s all.

Fallers

Now we have a few more of these than we do climbers: “Baby Shark” by Pinkfong is down eight spaces to #14 – stay there or go away, I don’t care what you do, but whatever you do, don’t creep up to the top 10 again. Anyways, other than that, we have “Shotgun” by George Ezra down nine spots to #16, “Thursday” by Jess Glynne slowly falling down six spaces to #19, both “This is Me” by Keala Settle and “A Million Dreams” by P!nk from The Greatest Showman taking seven-position hits down to #23 and #24, “Promises” by Calvin Harris and Sam Smith down six spots, “Woman Like Me” by Little Mix featuring Nicki Minaj down 10 spaces and “Let You Love Me” by Rita Ora down six positions to #27, #28 and #29 respectively, “Happier” by Marshmello and Bastille sadly down nine to #35, and finally, “The Greatest Showman” by Hugh Jackman, Keala Settle, Zac Efron, Zendaya and The Greatest Showman Ensemble is down 13 spots to #38.

Dropouts

I’m going to order these from where they are on the charts this week, so, let’s just run through these because there’s a decent amount. “Money” by Cardi B is out from #35, “A Million Dreams” by Ziv Zaifman, Hugh Jackman and Michelle Williams is out from #30, “Body” from Loud Luxury and brando is out from #39, “Funky Friday” by Dave and Fredo is out from #38, “Girls Like You” by Maroon 5 featuring Cardi B is out from #34, and finally, “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran is out from #40.

Special Feature

This year, I’m going to talk about more non-charting songs, so I’ll rip off Spectrum Pulse like I’ve been doing for a full year or so now, and do something like his new Ideal Hit section. Instead of songs that he thinks should be hits, I’m just going to pick a song that I see has been getting a push and want to be a hit because it’s really freaking good. Let’s start with:

SHOUT-OUT #1 – “Voila” – N.E.R.D., Gucci Mane and Wale

“Alright, come on, let’s go”. Those words are somehow so effective in starting this borderline masterpiece off. I don’t even know how to express my absolute love and fascination for this song in words. While N.E.R.D.’s comeback album NO_ONE EVER REALLY DIES was good, it was inconsistent, although this is probably my favourite track from there, excluding perhaps “Don’t Don’t Do It!”, which, yes, is somehow even better than this. Listen, I’m not a massive fan of either Gucci Mane or Wale, in fact, I think Wale kind of sucks, honestly – but put Gucci Mane on an energetic new wave beat and I’ll marry you. His Southern drawl makes his performance on the relatively complex yet catchy hook seem effortless, and then the pitch-shifted Pharrell Williams sounds just great, almost as a stark contrast to Gucci though, as Gucci is lazy yet smooth, while Pharrell is so stiff and that works perfectly, as even when he goes on more interesting vocal runs, he’s robotic. The beat strips itself down to bass and drums for Pharrell’s sole verse in which he tries to motivate the listener, before a robotic pre-chorus, in which he makes himself sound so emotionless, but it’s on purpose because what it’s saying is that self-improvement like Gucci’s after prison isn’t perfect and isn’t magic. It slows down briefly for a smooth Pharrell bridge, but then it comes back to the insane, beautifully cluttered new wave jam, and I’m going to remove all pretence and just say, yeah, it’s a bop. It’s fun, and then Gucci’s last “different” is dragged on and repeated, because, guess what? The song comes back as something different, in this case, a tropical trap beat with steel pans and kicks drowning out Wale’s half-hearted, lazy flow, which works because it’s stream-of-consciousness delivery with such a clearly calculated, simple and concise verse. The whole song can be seen as a motivational jam or some kind of sarcastic parody of those songs, but either way you see it, it’s fantastic. I’ve seen this in Apple ads, I hope this becomes a smash, even though it probably won’t. It happened to “Lemon” with Rihanna so I can hope.

NEW ARRIVALS

We have a lot of hip-hop and R&B today so let’s start with something that is decidedly neither of those things.

#33 – “Grace” – Lewis Capaldi

Lewis Capaldi’s a Scottish dude, and he released this song in September of last year, naturally becoming a smash hit in his home country. In the UK overall however, it’s been a sleeper hit and this is his first song to hit the top 40, so is it any good? Do I have any hope for Capaldi’s future work? I mean, it’s okay, I guess. It starts with subtle, light piano that is so bare that it feels Capaldi’s immediate anger and frustration is unwarranted, especially in the pre-chorus because I feel there isn’t any build-up to anything here. In fact, I’ve heard this before, I vividly remember hating it because of how abrupt everything was, and yup, I get why. This is aggravatingly slap-dash to me, and I know that you kind of have to be in today’s pop climate, but that’s America. This is Scotland, and it sounds like the dude who does the clean vocals for a Scottish post-hardcore band was told to water himself down over “Fight Song”. No, thanks.

#25 – “Options” – NSG featuring Tion Wayne

Okay, so first of all, who? Let’s see what I can gather from Wikipedia and other sources. NSG is the Northampton School for Girls, but they’re a group that is also part of the GRM Daily crowd, as we have at least one of these guys each week, and Tion Wayne I’m assuming is also from that general field of UK hip-hop, although he’s more of a Link Up TV than a GRM Daily, I guess. This is obviously the first top 40 hit for either artist, and I wish more of the reggae/grime stuff we get was like this. I like how it immediately scares you with that sharp, eerie piano line, with a vocal effect on one of these guys’ voice that is really effective considering it muffles him. The verses come in and we have conflicting piano melodies that actually complement each other, with NSG and Tion Wayne both bringing simple flows and fun deliveries. Sure, it’s nothing new, the content is all stuff we’ve seen before, and it’s probably way too long. Some of the NSG dudes are actually pretty decent singers, or at least ride on the beat well enough for me to not notice, like Kruddz, but the longest verse goes to Tion Wayne, and he kills it. I love how layered the track is, with all the strings and the claps coming together in the final chorus with keys that almost sound like trumpets blaring behind everything. It feels really triumphant and is pretty great in that regard. For people into this stuff, I recommend it.

#15 – “Undecided” – Chris Brown

Go away and take your illegal monkey with you, you abusing, detestable waste of time and money. Your song sucks, you can’t even sing anymore, and your production is always cheap and in this case, kind of tinny? You can’t rap, either, so don’t try. We’ve been putting up with you for a whole decade now and I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of you. I am not going to review your song. Fair enough? Fair enough.

#6 – “18HUNNA” – Headie One and Dave

No matter what I say, this song is definitely going to grow on me like most British rap I review on this show does. I do have to say, though, I understand why this one debuted so high, because Dave lazily rehashes his “Funky Friday” flow in his opening verse. This production feels like a cheap, trash type beat downloaded off of YouTube, with its shrill piano, synths and badly-mixed bass. Headie One is pretty awful on here, barely staying on beat and literally cutting himself off mid-line and mid-rhyme scheme to even attempt to keep steady through what is a way too long verse, although I respect the Pot Noodles reference, I guess. Yeah, no, this is gutter trash. I’m disappointed in 1-6 here, because the “Funky Friday” beat is great, although to be fair, that was co-produced by Dave. Get this out of my face.

Conclusion

What an awful week. There’s a reason I wanted to have an extra song that I could talk about positively, because this week was a constant fuel of garbage. Headie One and Dave get Worst of the Week for “18HUNNA”, with Dishonourable Mention going to human trash Chris Brown for “Undecided”. Best of the Week goes to that NSG and Tion Wayne song, I guess? Yeah, that’s a pretty dope song. See you next week, and let’s hope for “Voila”.