#I needed to pause and pace around the house like 4 times

[critter-of-habit]

okay focusing on NATASHA when Peggy and Steve were reuniting was really a choice wasn't it

[retiredteabag]

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6

cw for this chapter: discussion of assault (reader)

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Try as he might, Toji could not escape the sounds of your frightened voice from the night prior. He slept horribly, tossing from his side to his back only to stare up at your ceiling fan. When he finally got up, he busied himself with cleaning the house before your return.

You had told him not to worry about staying past the afternoon, that you expected to be back in time to feed the dog, but Toji insisted on staying. He wanted to see you. More importantly, he wanted to speak to you. There were several things he would have liked to have spoken about, but the one thing weighing on his mind was what had happened the night prior.

Your desperate apologies, your wavering voice. All of it felt so disconcerting.

So Toji stayed.

He stayed and washed the sheets, stayed and made up the bed, stayed and swept the floors.

He was a decisive man. If he wanted to do something? Consider it done. So why? Why was he second-guessing himself when he heard your car pull up the driveway? Why did his heart pound as if he was in some kind of danger? Why did he find himself pacing, looking for something to occupy himself with? All so he didn't seem like he was waiting for you.

But he was, he was waiting for you.

A pause permeated the foyer and kitchen when he heard you open the door and for a moment his throat felt tight, you hadn't seen him yet. His grip on the rag he was "washing dishes" with tightened. He heard a light gasp and spun around. Finally.

"Toji! I didn't realize you were here, I didn't see your car." You spun around to peek out the window, Toji dropped the towel and moved to the island. Closer to you. To observe you. You looked fine.

"Glad you made it back. He's been waiting for you." Toji pointed to the dog that was currently bounding around you in a show of tender love.

You kneeled down and scratched the dog's neck. "Thank you so much for watching him, I know how much he loved your company, but, Toji, how did you get here?"

He smiles, "Took the bus, needed gas." He didn't, he just wanted an excuse to stay. But by the look on your face, this was clearly the wrong response.

"Oh, my- Toji! Oh! You should have said, I would pay for your gas!" You had shot up at his statement and were looking at him with embarrassed disappointment.

"Oh please" He rolled his eyes, "You're plenty generous enough."

"I don't want you riding the bus at night, I'll give you a ride, or I can order you an Uber, like before."

Toji was thinking fast, why were you so keen on his leaving? Was it because you were uncomfortable? Or did you feel like it was a burden for him to stay? Whatever the answer, he was still caught up on the fact that you didn't want him riding the bus. How silly, to worry about his safety.

"Nah, it's no problem, I was staying here regardless." He shrugged.

"Was everything alright? Did you have everything you needed?" You smile at him and he eases a breath, okay, no more talk of leaving.

"Everything and then some. You've got a real nice place." He took a step closer to scratch the dog's ear. "Good trip?"

He didn't want to push. He wouldn't. But he couldn't help the curiosity. Especially when he watched your face falling at his question.

"Oh... yes, well" You sighed, shrugged, and avoided eye contact. "Work, you know."

"So..... not a good time." Toji tried for a tone of joviality but your eyes did not brighten.

"No. Wish I could've been here." You spoke so quietly that he could barely hear. He was worried that, within a moment, you would call him a cab, or usher him to your BMW. This was it.

Toji had been hungry for information since your text. It was for no reason other than his experience with law enforcement that he stayed up last night. Thinking about what type of situation you were in.

"Can I ask you a question?" Toji began, your head whipping to his face, nodding slightly, "It's about last night."

He noticed instantly- your eyebrows rose, along with your shoulders. You took a breath in as your chin lifted up. Unaware to you, your arms encircled your torso. You were so easy to read.

You didn't speak though. Toji took the silence once again. "Something happened, while you were away." Not a question, he realized as it came out. Damn, what was he saying? You didn't respond and he scrambled for the right words.

"Did-I mean. Did something happen?" So eloquent.

You sighed, looking at your shoes. Right on cue, your dog whimpered at your feet. "Yeah...' You draw it out, there's humor in your tone. "I didn't want to go on the trip anyway." Sighing, you look up at the ceiling, Toji gets the feeling that you were speaking to yourself.

"Didn't realize you saw a lot of crime in your business." How is it he can hold eye contact so steadily? How is it he can look through to your soul?

"Hmm?" You raise a brow, and then your eyes grow, "Oh! No! No! I don't." He laughs from his chest. The prospect of criminal activity leaves you aghast. "It wasn't a crime! Well..." You begin that mumbling "talking-to-yourself" way of speech, "Not a serious one, I've had problems with him for ages now."

Toji stops. You stop. You said too much.

"Him?" Toji's brows are stitched tightly together. Had he misheard?

"Oh!" You begin, catching his eyes that are glued to you. "It's not serious. If it was I would do something. It's not that!" You huff out, “Not like that…”

But Toji hadn't said anything. He remains silent. Waiting for you to continue. The dog begins to pace. You run a hand through your hair and then wave nonsensically as if to ward off the air around you.

"Who are we talking about." Toji's voice has only once sounded like this. It had sounded this way over the phone that night he carried your dog a mile, drove him to the vet, and silently watched you bandage his hands.

It had sounded like this when he was desperate.

"Aagh!" You shook your head. Dispelling some unhappy thought or memory. "I'm not... really supposed to be speaking about all this. It's been handled." You wave your hands dramatically, making a show of finding the time, you start up again, "Oh goodness, look at the clock, Toji let me get you a ride so you can be home for dinner!"

"I'd like to hear about this actually." He doesn't move. He slowly maneuvers his head to follow your gaze. "Having trouble with a co-worker?"

Toji had his fair share of experiences with unsavory characters in his time working in different industries. They were never too difficult to handle, though.

You laugh painfully, "Unfortunately, yeah, but there's really nothing to do..." Your making "shooing" motions with your hands again, motioning between him and the door.

"That why you didn't wanna go on this trip?" He watches your motion - ignores it.

"Gosh, yes. You know how it goes." Toji hums.

"Police involved?" He watches you. Your hands shiver to a stop, you turn to meet his eyes, suddenly still.

"No." You look at him. "No, it was handled before that."

"But he wasn't fired." His head slants to the left.

"No reason to fire him." You're looking at him differently now. You sound different now. Finite. Tired.

"Well, if police could be involved, there has to be some reason." He looks at you, but you're not speaking. You're not smiling. You're not moving.

"He was the one to make you cry that night." He asks, but it's not a question this time either.

"I think you should go get dinner, Toji." You speak softly, but there is really no room for disagreement allowed.

"There's gotta be something, just tell your boss if you don't wanna work with some dickhead." He's trying to help, he is, but it's coming out all wrong. He doesn't know the situation, and he's never had a real job before, he doesn't know - that even though your position is one of power - although you are high up in a huge conglomerate - although you have a million opportunities in front of you that he's never been offered - although you make real, honest money - some of the most evil people are in those positions as well.

And things that, he, a killer, a prostitute, a gambler, a criminal, could never imagine even in his most dark moments, go on, under the veil of the shiny "opulence" so easily desired.

"He's not just a colleague, Toji." Your sentences are chopped as they leave your lips. Toji realized suddenly that the only reason you're speaking now is because he has obviously made you upset. "He's a stakeholder's son. And everyone loves him. Trust me. I've reported him before. But nothing comes of it. It just." You sigh, detached. "It just makes me look bad. He's popular and charismatic, and everyone thinks he's.... he's the best! So there. He can do what he wants. He can touch who he wants. He can make decisions for everyone else. And there's nothing I can do, actually."

Toji is taken aback, and your dog huffs at your legs, "I'm sorry..." You mutter behind your hands. Likely embarrassed at your lengthy diatribe. But Toji takes no notice of your apology.

"He touched you?" There is something new now, something Toji does understand, and this, this will not happen again, he is sure of it.

"Just briefly. And he was drunk. So what does it matter." Your hands remain in front of your face. A grievously aggravated tone in your voice for the first time.

"It matters all the same. It matters- it matters-" Toji is racing for the right thing to say but he’s never been good with words.

He has experienced being touched when he did not like it. He had experienced allowing somethings to happen for a dollar. But he had never been in the position of being attacked. He had never been the weaker of two people. But you, he cannot image such a feeling. Such a feeling being completely uncontrolled.

And suddenly he's remembering your texts, your jittery voice, your apologies and he wants to puke.

"Why not go to the police. Something must be done. Y/n, please."

"I can't." He bends down to see your sunken face, trying to spot any tears. "What if nothing happens? What if I make a fool of myself? What if- Toji, what if I lose my job?"

Seeing now, the darkness within what he believed to be grandeur, he wonders if you are really any better off than he.

"You won't. Y/n- I, I can do it. I can get this... handled." His mind is flooded with memories, a man, someone who worked for his handler, he was good with technology, good with blackmail. His thoughts were interrupted by a chuckle.

"No-Toji, that can't happen. It just... I don't think that's possible. I'm just." You heave a breath, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said a thing. I think I'm just tired. It's okay."

"No." He's shaking his head. Slow. But you don't hear him. You've closed him off. You've resigned yourself and he wonders, sickeningly, how long you have been resigned for.

That night grew dark faster than either of you knew. You had told him not to think about it. You told him to let it go. But that night, reminded of a similar evening he spent in a car that was paid to bring him back to his apartment. He considered the situation.

When he climbed his way into his dark apartment, he did not hesitate. Measured steps brought him to the ventilation above the stove in his kitchen. He reached up, grabbed the flip phone found there, a burner he knew remained.

He didn't even mull it over before he sent the text.

"Need a favor. Call me."

And he didn't sleep that night until he'd been back in contact with the man he thought he was done working with for good.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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[sleepynoons]

Made for You

You're a patisserie, and now, also the proud co-owner of your own restaurant, Zhuming Dessert Bar. You're new to this whole CEO thing, and you're hoping to seek some support from those around you – like the head chef next door!

patisserie!f!reader x chef!jiaoqiu, modern!au, sfw

word count: ~9,100

cw: explicit language, use of poisons, a lil slow burn lol

notes: i haven't played through the full story quest, so sorry if jiaoqiu is slightly ooc lol but he is blind and can only eat spicy foods yeet otherwise, wanted to write smth fluffy for this tragic, tragic man. and i also wanted to geek out about delicious east asian food yep.

thank you so much to @lychniis for beta-reading and for helping immensely with the pacing of this piece! @pawpiefawn i hope this story is at least 1/1000th as sweet as you are, and welcome to the hsr hell hole <3

I. TARO Macarons and Winter Melon Cookies

Crush almonds. Toast and grind sesame seeds. Mix egg whites with brown sugar. Skin, cut, mash taro root. Bring water to a boil. Top cookie dough with candied winter melon.

The sun starts filtering in through the window.

Steam soy milk until it foams. Melt gelatin. Frost thinly. Turn off the oven and stove. Slice coconut jelly into thin, small squares. Put everything into the fridge.

The day of a patisserie begins early – 4:30AM for you. Although you’re the head of your restaurant, the Zhuming Dessert Bar, you’re unable to separate yourself from the habitual duties of prepping, cleaning, getting a head start. To be fair, it would also be improper of you to leave such a task to your teammates. After all, these macarons and cookies are a gift for your neighbors, a first impression to the locals of not only the dessert bar, but primarily, the food it serves. The taste and presentation have to be perfect, and there’s no need to burden everyone else with an otherwise tedious and irrelevant task.

The Zhuming Dessert Bar is located in a busy food district, where there are various other diners, cafés, hole-in-the-wall gems, all waiting to be discovered and savored. After a long process of bidding and negotiating, you managed to snag a larger space, a one-story building sandwiched between a complex that housed several small businesses and a well-established hot pot spot. Unsurprisingly, a large majority of the stores in the district aren’t open in the morning, due to the lack of customers, and you only have to make a few runs.

As the time approaches 7AM, you begin to make your way out.

“Good morning, everyone!”

Those are the first words exchanged between you and your team, aside from the occasional “behind” or question, and you giggle as you’re greeted with a chorus of tired moans and lazy waves.

You ask, “I’m gonna head out – no more than two hours. Can someone meet with the vendors while I’m gone?”

Someone next to you nods, and you beam at them as you leave with a few boxes of the treats you made.

You only have three stops this morning – a trendy café co-owned by two college drop-outs, a Japanese, lunch-only spot run by an elderly couple, and a Western brunch place known for its omelettes.

The college drop-outs, acting much like their age, cheer when you hand over their sweets and quite literally gobble them up in front of you. By the time you leave, you’ve been unofficially adopted as their favorite “next-door aunt.”

When you arrive at the Japanese restaurant, only the wife seems to have arrived, and she pauses from her prep work to bring you inside to chat over cups of steaming green tea. Though the conversation is brief, the two of you quickly go down a rabbit hole, discussing the best brand for knives, how to tell when a daikon is ripe, which fruits are in season at the moment. As your exchange wraps up, you promise her you’ll return, at which she slips a napkin into your palm that has “Free Meal Coupon” scribbled on it with haphazard handwriting.

The American brunch restaurant is already bustling with noise, and a sous chef comes to welcome you at the front door. He’s polite, a little younger than you, and has the excitement of someone just starting off their career. You tell him good luck, and he responds likewise, wishing your dessert bar success.

Everyone seems pleasant and friendly, and you feel a rush of eagerness to hurry back to your restaurant. 

When you return, you can’t help but pause in front of the Zhuming Dessert Bar. You admire the spray-painted logo on the windows, the clean and modern architecture of the building, the little signboards out in front with chalk writings of recommendations and prices. Yesterday was your dessert bar’s opening day, and now, you and your team are about to embark on your first full week. Instead of feeling the daunting weight and pressure, you’re restless, hands and wrists itching to pick up a spatula, mouth salivating at all of the syrups and icings you’ll have to taste-test, feet poised to navigate through a crowded kitchen. After a few more seconds of admiring, you can’t hold back any longer and burst in through the back door, absolutely needing to get back to work.

Time passes quickly for all chefs. Even though you’re surrounded by timers that count down to precise milliseconds, the minutes and hours add up, and by the time service has ended, you truly don’t feel the passage of the day until you loosen the apron wrapped around your waist and sit down for a brief break. But you’re not done with all of your work quite yet, and you leave the cleaning and tidying to the others so you can make your last runs of the day.

You had taken a brief intermission after lunch to make the majority of your visits, so the only remaining restaurant on your list is the hot pot place right next door. If you remember correctly, the restaurant’s actually part of a larger chain, Yaoqing Hot Pot, that’s known for offering the spiciest yet most mouth-watering Szechuan flavors.

You jog over to the entrance, and peeking through the glass, you can see a man with peach pink hair sitting at the bar. He’s not wearing a uniform or eating, so he’s neither a cook nor a customer. That must mean he’s either a welcome guest or the manager.

You knock on the door, hoping to grab the attention of the man. His head does perk up, and he faces the door – but makes no effort to get up. You wait for another minute or so, before knocking again. Finally, the man rises from his seat, still facing you, before grabbing a cane and making his way over to you. As he approaches, you can see that his eyes are closed, and you almost fluster with humiliation.

As the man opens the door, you immediately bow, 90 degrees at the waist. “I am so, so sorry for bothering you!”

With a light laugh, the man replies, “No problem, but unfortunately, we’re not taking any more customers for the night.”

You straighten up and hold the box out in front of you. “I’m not a customer, actually. I’m from next door, we just opened.” You quickly introduced yourself and explained the contents of the box to him.

He pauses before slowly extending his palm, face up, out in front of him, on which you place the packaged macarons and cookies.

“Please enjoy! And have a good night!” 

Fearing that you’ve not only inconvenienced the man but also taken up too much of his time when his restaurant’s still crammed with customers, you bow again, despite knowing he won’t see, and scuffle away, only peering behind your shoulder once to see the man still at the door and “looking” down at the box.

II. Anmitsu

“Chef!”

The kitchen’s always loud, from boiling pots of syrup to whirring mixers kneading dough to blenders grinding up crackers, but never because of the people. It’s rare, in the first place, for someone to look for you unless you’re requested to taste a component or item being served that night, but the urgency of the call tells you it’s something different this time.

You rush over to the back door, where one of your pastry chefs, a fresh graduate from culinary school, is frowning beside an equally distraught vendor.

You pat your chef on the shoulder and wave cheerily at the vendor, “Hey, whatever the problem, there’s a way out. What’s going on?”

“We’ve run out of geomeunpat,” the chef responds.

The vendor chips in as well. “There wasn’t an order for the black adzuki beans, and I don’t have any extra. I’m so sorry!”

You nod in understanding. “Don’t apologize. Gimme a second to think.”

Geomeunpat, or black adzuki beans, is crucial to making white adzuki bean paste, which in Korean cuisine, is used to make rice cakes and other confectionery. Adzuki bean paste is also an irreplaceable ingredient for anmitsu, a Japanese dessert that typically consists of sliced fruit, kanten jelly, and rice flour dango. Given that it’s summer, your tasting menu has a few limited specials, and geomeunpat is needed for almost all of them. 

You ask, “Do we have any canned red bean paste?”

Your pastry chef goes to check the pantry and returns to report a number of cans.

“Alright, let’s do this.” You turn to the vendor. “We’re so sorry. Thanks for all of your help, and we’ll see you on Friday at this time, right?” The vendor confirms before leaving. Then, you turn back to your pastry chef. “Let’s substitute with the canned anko for today, but can you call me when you’re making the mitsu? We might need to adjust the sugar content of the syrup, or else it might be too sweet otherwise.”

“Yes, chef!”

“In the meantime, I’ll run to the market to see if there are any raspberries or cherries that can cut through the taste of the anko. Be right back.”

True to your word, you dash the few blocks to the farmer’s market, located at a nearby park with an open field and seating. It’s already mid-morning, so it’s likely that all of the best batches are gone, but there should be enough left over for you to find sufficient ingredients.

As predicted, the market crowd is waning, with many customers having already finished their shopping and gone home or enjoying their purchases at the picnic benches and tables. You look around, skittering around here and there, as if you’re a little child playing hide-and-seek, constantly changing your hiding spot.

This one’s no good either. Just as you take a step back, though, you bump into someone – wait, no, you step on something.

You look down, and you notice you’ve stepped on the ball of a white cane.

“Oh, shoot, sorry!” You jump away and nervously look at the owner of the cane. Your nervousness, though, is quickly replaced with something else, your eyes widening and brows raising.

You blurt, “You’re from Yaoqing Hot Pot!”

Behind the pink-haired man is a younger girl, brown hair tied into long, streaming pigtails and eyes piqued with childish wonder and unbounded curiosity.

The girl asks, “Chef, do you know this person?”

“I’m not quite sure.”

You speak up. “Yes, we have! Only very briefly, though. I dropped by with some treats, on behalf of the Zhuming Dessert Bar.”

Suddenly, the girl lets out a scream, at which you and the man wince. “Wait, did you bake those? They were delicious!” The girl clamors over to you and grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “How did you know to pair the taro filling with toasted sesame seeds? And the winter melon cookies were a spin on the traditional lao po bing, right? How did you come up with these ideas? Just hearing about them made my mouth water, but the real deal was –“

“Sushang,” the man interrupts sharply, “you’re being rude.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” The girl, Sushang, releases her hold on you with an awkward chuckle before returning to the man’s side.

You shake your head with a bright smile. “No, not at all! I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

Sushang gleams at you. “No, but seriously, they were delicious. You said you were from the Zhuming Dessert Bar, right? Are they sold in-store?”

“Yes, I’m the head chef at the dessert bar. Unfortunately, we don’t plan on putting them on the menu for a while because they still need some work.”

“More work?” Sushang’s jaw drops wide open in disbelief, and you shrug.

The man says, “Sushang, you should know that every item on a tasting menu is chosen with utmost patience and care. It can take months to perfect a new item.”

“Yes, chef, but I just can’t imagine how you could do even better.”

You chuckle. “I’m glad, then. If they ever make it on the menu, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

With happy claps, Sushang cheers. As for you, you turn towards the man.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” you say, “I never quite got your name.”

He gives you a small smile in the form of pursed lips. “Jiaoqiu, head chef at Yaoqing Hot Pot, though I don’t do much of the cooking anymore.”

“Well, Jiaoqiu, it’s very nice to meet you. Do you happen to have any thoughts on those treats I gave you?”

Before Jiaoqiu can respond, Sushang answers first on his behalf. “Oh, our chef never eats anything made by other people! He doesn’t even try my cooking, so I don’t even know how to improve!”

The chef nudges an elbow into his employee’s ribs, who winces and whimpers at the pain.

You simply just watch the interaction before saying, “No worries, I get it. Though, I feel like your name is familiar, Jiaoqiu…”

You tilt your head, attempting to recall. His name reminds you of a news headline, something about culinary school and graduation, but nothing else beyond that. Sushang looks like she can barely contain herself, but the set expression on Jiaoqiu’s face prevents her from actually spilling the truth.

Regardless, you move on. “No matter. Anyway, I’m guessing the two of you are grabbing some ingredients, yeah?”

“Yes,” Jiaoqiu affirms. “We always source our fruits locally. How about you?”

“Oh, I’m also looking to buy some fruit!”

“Then come with us!” Sushang suggests. “We know the best vendors in town.”

Before you can even ask if that’s alright with the Yaoqing’s head chef, you’re already pulled along by the arm and tugged towards a tent near the end of the market street.

III. Penghu Salty Biscuits

���Two beers please.”

You sigh, setting down the hardcover menu on the table. Yaoqing Hot Pot is packed with people, even though it’s late at night, 11PM. To be fair, the hot pot chain is a combination of a hot pot buffet and bar, so it makes sense that the store’s open until the unruly hours of the night. But while all of the customers seem to be partying and having the time of their lives, you and your co-owner, Yukong, sit tiredly across from each other.

“How is it only the third week,” you groan as you drop your forehead onto the table.

A waiter comes over to drop your drinks off, and Yukong takes a quick gulp from her chilled mug.

“Tell me about it,” she sighs.

Yukong co-founded the Zhuming Dessert Bar with you. In fact, the two of you grew up together, and have been inseparable ever since elementary school. When she transferred middle schools, you begged your parents to transfer you as well. When you both were preparing for college entrance exams, you chose the same university as your top pick. When you went to baking school, she got into a neighboring MBA program so that the two of you could continue rooming together. And when you both came up with the idea of starting a restaurant together, the logistics and enthusiasm naturally fell into place.

“That customer just wouldn’t back off,” Yukong grumbles. She takes another drink before picking up her chopsticks, skewering a slice of fatty beef, and dropping it into the boiling tomato broth. “He clearly already got a serving of the ice cream – I saw it with my own eyes! But he just wouldn’t stop lying and making a fuss.”

“I know,” you bemoan. “I’m just glad I have you to handle these kinds of customer problems. I would’ve just cried on the spot.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t.” She captures the beef with a flick of her wrist and drops it into her sauce bowl. “I just feel bad for Yunli. You know how she is, hot-tempered and impatient, but even she wouldn’t dare speak up against a customer. But you could tell it was taking every inch of her strength to not, just, yell back.”

“Yeah, Yunli was completely out of it for the rest of her shift.” You shake your head as you ladle a knotted bunch of Konjac noodles onto your plate. 

The tomato soup, despite being completely plant-based, is rich, almost too aggressive in its flavor. But when soaked up, the oil and fragrance of the broth fuse seamlessly into the unseasoned nature of hot pot ingredients, so much so that you can arguably eat everything without dipping it in sauce. Still, you drench half of the noodles into your mixture of sesame oil, peanut sauce, green onions, and garlic. When you take your bite, you hum so happily, the chewiness of the Konjac providing great texture while heat permeates throughout your entire body, melting away the knots and strain in your muscles.

“This is so good,” you garble through a mouthful. Yukong’s also entranced with her bite of fish cake, and can only nod in agreement.

Once you finish the Konjac noodles, you slide in a platter of cabbage slices, balls of shrimp paste, and tofu squares.

“Anyway…,” you start. “Next time, I don’t think we should even bother. Most of our customers are reasonable, anyway, and it’s honestly not worth it.”

Yukong frowns at the suggestion. “Are you sure? Because, on the other hand, I don’t think we should tolerate this behavior at all.”

“I know, but I don’t want the other pastry chefs to worry about stuff like this. Besides, we always make enough of everything. Otherwise, the extras would all go to waste, and I can’t keep giving Granny Toka and the college kids our leftovers.”

Yukong huffs and crosses her arms, a pointer finger tapping impatiently at the juncture of her elbow. Yet, Yukong can’t seem to come up with a response, so she acquiesces.

“Yukong…,” you mumble. You look at her, a little expectantly and a lot more nervously.

She slides her arm across the table, a gesture for you to do the same. As you put your hand on top of hers, she says, “I’m not angry. I’m just frustrated. You and the other chefs are our top priority, and I understand you want to avoid causing them as much stress as possible. I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

Yukong’s always been like this – able to read your mind, say the reassuring things you need to hear at the right time, find the best solution without compromising anyone’s feelings. You rub your thumb over the back of her hand lovingly before someone calls out your name.

“Hey, you managed to come!”

You turn to the side to see Sushang. You exclaim, “Yes, we did! Thanks for having us! The food’s amazing!”

“Of course! If you ever want another discount, just let me know.” Sushang wiggles her eyebrows, and you and Yukong laugh at her antics.

“This is Yukong, my co-founder,” you introduce. 

Sushang steps aside, and only then do you realize someone’s behind her. Which is odd, because the man’s absolutely looming over her, but something about his quiet demeanor must’ve concealed his presence. 

Sushang says, “Nice to meet you, Yukong! This here is Moze, one of our sous chefs. Moze, she made the macarons and cookies we had a few weeks ago.”

Moze stiffly nods, but as soon as Sushang mentions your desserts, a hopeful glint in his eyes appears.

“You know,” Sushang continues, “I’ve only seen Moze talk so much about someone’s cooking, like, literally a handful of times. He rarely compliments other people, but he totally ranted when he ate those sweets of yours.”

Moze scoffs and knocks Sushang on the back of her head. “We’ve told you so many times to not run your mouth.”

You and Yukong exchange warm looks. You say, “Sushang’s just incredibly honest. But I’m glad they were to your liking, Moze.”

Yukong speaks up as well. “We’d like to return the favor, too. Feel free to drop by the Zhuming Dessert Bar, free of charge.”

Sushang yells so loudly that some of the adjacent customers glance at your party. “Are you for real?! Moze, we need to go. Immediately.”

“By the way,” Yukong interrupts, tone more formal now, “is your head chef, Jiaoqiu, around? And is it possible for us speak to him?”

Puzzled, you glance towards Yukong. You came for a simple dinner, and Yukong never informed you of other plans.

Moze answers this time. “The head chef’s in the back. Can I ask what you plan on discussing?”

“Actually, I’m a family friend of Feixiao’s. I’d like to personally meet her right-hand man.”

It seems as if the world has stopped spinning. Yukong knows Feixiao? She knows the owner of Yaoqing Hot Pot? Personally? Huh? It seems Moze and Sushang are both stunned as well, and after a few sluggish seconds, Moze excuses himself, presumably to find his boss.

Jiaoqiu appears in no more than five minutes.

“Miss Yukong, it’s good to meet you in person,” Jiaoqiu greets. Yukong reaches her hand out for a handshake, and only when Moze guides Jiaoqiu’s hand forward does the head chef reciprocate.

“Oh, apologies, I didn’t know you –,“ Yukong begins.

Jiaoqiu cuts her off succinctly. “No worries. It’s only been a few years, after all. I also told Feixiao not to inform others of my condition in the first place.”

“I see.”

Jiaoqiu then redirects the conversation skillfully. “Speaking of Feixiao, I’m sure the two of you have come up with something that requires my assistance? I’d be happy to help out in any way that I can.”

You slide deeper into the booth so that Jiaoqiu can sit beside you. From this proximity, you can make out the sweat lining his forehead, the thick rubber band pulling his hair back into a ponytail, and the creases of his sleeves where they were once rolled up.

Yukong clears her throat, a habit of hers right before negotiations begin. 

“The Mid-Autumn Festival’s coming up in a little over a month, and since both of our restaurants are based on East Asian cuisines, Feixiao and I are considering a collaboration. Do you think that’s something your team would be interested in?”

Surprisingly, despite his thoughtful nature, Jiaoqiu doesn’t even take a second to consider. “If Feixiao’s eager about the idea, I don’t see why not.”

“Great. So far, the plan is to add a few of our desserts to your existing menu, while we add some of your appetizers to ours. How does that sound?”

At this suggestion, Jiaoqiu hums with dissatisfaction. “That could ruin the flavor profiles of each of our own stores.”

“Right, of course. We considered that, and that’s why we think it’d be best if both of our restaurants created new items that’d fit both the theme of the Mid-Autumn Festival, as well as our respective offerings.”

“I see.”

From your periphery, you can see Moze looking at Yukong, trying to decipher her intentions, while Sushang’s rocking on her feet, cheeks puffed up with anticipation. You, on the other hand, have no problem with this idea either and simply accept the fact that the next two months are going to be very busy.

Jiaoqiu asks, “I think this idea’s not bad. How do we plan on executing it?”

Yukong gestures at you, so you perk up. “Uh, well, I guess we can just meet to hash out the details? I know you’re very busy, though, so that might not work.”

“No, it’s fine.” Jiaoqiu seems to sigh, almost as if he’s giving into defeat. “If both Feixiao and Miss Yukong think this is a worthwhile business project, then it’s my job to see it through. We should begin promptly.”

You nod and begin exchanging contacts with the Yaoqing folks. As you’re typing in Moze’s contact, though, you suddenly get a call from one of your chefs.

You excuse yourself, walking out of the noisy restaurant to answer the call.

“Yunli, what’s up?” you chirp.

You hear very panicked voices until Yunli directly replies. “Chef, the HVAC’s broken. The refrigeration doesn’t work. At all.”

You feel goosebumps snake down your arms and back. Suddenly, your throat feels entirely parched, and you’re not even able to swallow to alleviate the dryness. For once, when it comes to work, your body’s freezing up, rooting you to your spot on the sidewalk, preventing you from running into the kitchen.

Fuck.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

You rush back into Yaoqing Hot Pot, inform Yukong of the situation, and the two of you scramble back to the Zhuming Dessert Bar.

That night, you make several runs home, but you don’t actually get to unwind until well past 2AM. Not only did you have to make several emergency calls to your property manager and repair services, but you also had to drive back and forth to transfer the ingredients to your own fridge and freezer. Simply put, everyone who stayed past service to clean up the dessert bar was utterly exhausted. It was arguably one of your worst nights since the Zhuming’s opening.

It took the whole weekend for the HVAC-R system to be repaired, which meant the cancellation of two days’ worth of reservations. The cancellations impacted the store’s sales significantly for the week, and you were forced to revise several recipes to accommodate for cheaper ingredients. While your other teammates could take the time off, you had to come in to experiment and adjust the taste of each menu item, which is always a painstakingly arduous and tedious process. At times, you felt a hint of nostalgia, reminiscent of your times in pastry school, but those flashbacks only left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

Your meetings with Jiaoqiu also began the following week. On Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, you head over and enter Yaoqing Hot Pot through the back door so you can directly walk to Jiaoqiu’s office. Inside his office, there’s a small desk which he sits at, while you situate yourself on a small, plush bean bag that was brought in by Sushang. So far, the two of you have drafted initial ideas, and tonight, Jiaoqiu will be presenting the first iterations of the Yaoqing’s appetizers to you.

Like the first time you met him, you knock on the door twice. As always, when he greets you, he gives you a tight smile. Tonight, though, his expression appears more grim than usual.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I’m afraid the dishes have not come out as expected.”

You see a porcelain white plate on his desk. In the center, there are a few strips of tofu, topped with finely diced pieces of thousand-year-old eggs, scallions, and garlic. There are streaks of red and black as well, no doubt the Yaoqing’s signature spicy sauce. Beside the plate is a small bowl. You take a step closer to see chunks of cabbage, ginger, radish, and carrots, all of the pieces slightly wrinkled, accompanied by a sharp smell of acid. Both are classic Szechuan dishes: spicy cold tofu and pickled vegetables.

Using the chopsticks laid out on a napkin, you take small bites of the dishes. You’re personally not too good with spicy foods, so you can only hope that Jiaoqiu hasn’t gone overboard with the seasonings.

The thousand-year-old eggs are chewy and dense, in delightful contrast to the softness of the tofu, which practically melts on your tongue. However, the garlic, scallions, and spicy sauce penetrate through and remain as the final aftertaste. Then, you pick up a piece of the pickled cabbages. The water and vinegar brine has been completely absorbed, and you notice that there’s a stark lack of peppercorns, which is usually a key component of this dish. With a crunch, your teeth pierce through the leaf, and you’re impressed by how tender the inside of the cabbage is. You pick around to try the other ingredients.

When Jiaoqiu hears you place your chopsticks down, he asks, “I’m sorry if they’re lacking.”

“No worries. Maybe we should call in Moze, so I can share my thoughts?”

Jiaoqiu does as you request, and a few minutes later, the sous chef joins the two of you.

You give a brief rundown of your suggestions.

“The Zhuming Dessert Bar is known for its milder flavors, and the two appetizers taste great as is but simply don’t make sense in the broader context. I was thinking, maybe for the spicy cold tofu, we can mash the eggs into almost something like a paste? I think it’d provide an interesting texture, and we can use fresh scallions to keep that hint of bite if needed. To be honest, I think there should be way less garlic. Maybe even no garlic at all.

“As for the pickled vegetables, I think this one’s pretty close to done, actually! I think the cabbage is perfect, and I like that there are no peppercorns in the presentation. I was thinking that maybe we can make this dish a little more – how do I put this – refreshing? For instance, instead of using radish, we can use cucumbers instead? The water content might pose an issue, but I think cucumbers could add a ‘clean,’ crisp touch, which I like the sound of. Oh, we should also take out the ginger.”

When you finish, Jiaoqiu and Moze look at you as if you’ve just committed a murder in front of them.

Moze can barely conjure a sentence. “Are – are you – can you not handle spicy foods? Are these too spicy for you? Wh – what are you –“

Jiaoqiu has to interrupt him. “Without the ginger or garlic, you’re essentially asking us to abandon core aspects of Szechuan cuisine.”

You try to justify yourself. “I know it’s a cardinal sin, I get it. It’s like asking pastry chefs to not use sugar or flour or whatever. But the appetizers are just too strong, and none of the desserts we have, including our Mid-Autumn Festival specials, will complement them. Maybe a subtractive method isn’t the best approach, but I honestly don’t know enough to propose any other ideas.”

Jiaoqiu tilts his chin, thinking. Finally, he states, “I think I have one.”

At the next meeting, the head chef presents you the same two dishes, but they look vastly different than before.

Jiaoqiu explains that, for the tofu, he listened to your suggestion and mashed the thousand-year-old eggs into a paste. Within the paste, he also incorporated the garlic, which should be diluted by the natural pungency of the aged yolk. The scallions and chili sauce are filled in a separate container, allowing customers to pour as little or as much as they want.

As for the pickled vegetables, Jiaoqiu added a rather unique ingredient. 

“Why lotus root?” you ask.

He explains, “Lotus root is in season right now, and we took inspiration from the classic Yunnan lotus root salad. We soaked the lotus root in a one-to-one ratio of rice vinegar and water to extract the starch, before blanching the slices. We also added ginger and a bit of sugar to the brine, so there wouldn’t be a need to keep the ginger slices in the dish itself. The one thing I want you to check is if we added too much peppercorn and salt.”

One bite of each dish, and you’re grinning ear to ear.

“This is it,” you whisper, in sheer awe. You can’t help but take two more mouthfuls of each appetizer. “In just one night, and you made such vast improvements. Jiaoqiu, you’re a genius.”

What was supposed to be a celebratory moment seemed to be ruined instantaneously by your comment. Moze’s face drops and Jiaoqiu can’t help but wince, to your confusion.

All of a sudden, very shy and embarrassed, you mumble, “Did I say something wrong? The food’s great, Jiaoqiu, is there something that’s not to your liking?”

Moze states, rather gruffly, “No, we’re very happy that you enjoy the dishes so much. After all, it’s been a while since Jiaoqiu has cooked something by himself.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you both look so upset. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” Jiaoqiu sighs. “Then, these two are a go. One more left.”

From then on, your interactions with Jiaoqiu become stiff and rigid. Not that you had made much progress in the first place, but at the very least, the two of you could speak in the same fluid prose of ingredients and techniques and practically anything related to cooking and baking. Now, the two of you barely speak outside the context of the collaboration, and even the feedback you receive doesn’t come straight from him. Sushang had mentioned this earlier, and she’s absolutely right – Jiaoqiu doesn’t touch your cooking at all. In fact, Moze’s the one who munches away at your samples, while Jiaoqiu only asks for his opinions.

Are you frustrated? Absolutely. But it’s not like you can call off this project for such a small reason. It’s not like Moze doesn’t offer great advice, but it’s not up to the level of expertise that you need. So, not only do you feel frustrated, you also feel directionless, and your creative juices are running out.

You hate to admit it, but this sucks. 

IV. Taiwanese Pineapple Cake

You should’ve prepared for all hell to break loose because “busy” doesn’t even begin to describe your current state.

The Mid-Autumn Festival Is approaching in a week, which means the collaboration’s also set to launch in just a few days. But before that, it seems you have other, more urgent issues to address first.

“Wait, why isn’t Lingsha here?” You look around, hoping for someone to know. You have a full house tonight, and you need all the helping hands you can get.

Yunli, who’s busy shaping some fondant, responds, “I think she’s sick.”

Alarmed, you quickly shoot Lingsha a text, asking her about her condition, in addition to a reminder to please, please, please let you know next time.

“That’s fine, but we’re going to need someone to take over her station…”

There are two halves to your team. Since the dessert bar is split between a morning bakery and an evening tasting restaurant, you’ve placed your less experienced chefs on the morning shifts. This could be a good opportunity for one of them to learn, you think.

“Huo Huo,” you call out, “can you stay for the rest of the day? I’ll make sure Yukong pays you overtime.”

A small, green-haired girl squeaks at the sound of her name. Even from a distance, you can see her body begin to shake and tremble.

“Y-yes,” she stutters as her knuckles pale from gripping onto a hand mixer so tightly.

You shoot her two thumbs up and a gentle smile. “You’ll be great, I just know it, Huo Huo. You’re in charge of presentation, so all you have to worry about is not breaking any dishes, alright?”

You, in fact, did have to worry about broken dishes that night.

Frankly speaking, Huo Huo was all over the place. She confused some of the dishes with each other, so the presentation wasn’t right at times. She also spilled glaze, so those desserts had to be tossed. The most tragic of her mistakes was that she forgot basic kitchen etiquette and almost got burned in the face with a blowtorch. Yunli’s tolerance was clearly waning, and you had to pinch her multiple times to prevent her from unleashing all of her rage.

You can’t help but think this is all your fault.

And as you trudge to Jiaoqiu’s office, your stomach sinks further. You feel the fatigue coursing through your veins, and despite your usual patient and easy going temperament, you can feel your thread of optimism thinning, dangerously close to snapping.

You just never expected it to break so soon.

“Uh, where are your samples?” Moze asks.

You can only close your eyes and cover them with your palms. You feel so weak in the knees. You want to keel over.

The burning sensation at your waterline doesn’t help either, and even though you can’t breathe, you hold back so as to not let anyone hear your sniffles.

You’re an actual patisserie now. No more groveling and self-pitying – you left all of that behind at baking school and your previous stages. You’ve made it so far, and you can’t fumble it. You need to be on top of things and be professional. Why are you even upset? What’s wrong with you? Keep. It. Together.

Jiaoqiu mutters, “Moze, leave us for now.”

With barely audible steps, you feel Moze walk away, and Jiaoqiu slides his office door closed behind you. Though it takes him a bit, he manages to feel his way down the wall so that he’s stooping beside you.

“Guess it’s my turn to ask you what’s wrong.”

“Everything,” you say, voice muffled as you hide your head with your forearms, tucking your chin to your chest.

“Yeah, running a restaurant never gets easier.”

You peek up at him. “But you never seem to be sweating over it.”

“Everyone has their worries.”

You take a deep breath. At this point, it doesn’t even matter if you cry or not because Jiaoqiu doesn’t seem to be the kind of person to care.

You ask, “I feel like I don’t know how to lead my team properly. We managed to get everything out in time, but the kitchen was an entire mess. We also had to get repairs done a few weeks ago, even though the property’s new and all. And remember when we ran into each other at the farmer’s market? It’s because someone forgot to properly do inventory. Like – these are all basic procedures. What am I forgetting to teach them?”

“From my experience, it just comes from routine reminders during meetings, and being ruthless when it comes to firing people.”

You roll your eyes. “Jiaoqiu, I’m afraid not everyone has the luxury of an inbox overflowing with hiring and employment requests.”

“Then, you have to do the hard thing and train them. Over and over again, until they finally get it right.”

You take another inhale. He’s right.

The stooping’s becoming uncomfortable, so you let yourself fall back and onto the ground.

“Thanks, Jiaoqiu. I think I’ve got my shit together again.”

“Of course. Then, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

You begin to get up but end up deciding otherwise. You suggest instead, “Let’s just talk for a bit, if you have the time. We’ve been seeing each other so often, and I feel like I know practically nothing about you.”

You see a flash of suspicion cross his face, but Jiaoqiu doesn’t reject the idea either.

You help Jiaoqiu to his desk before finding your usual spot on the bean bag, and ask, “So, tell me. What about Yaoqing Hot Pot is stressing you out?”

“The new hires. I trust Moze, but it’s hard for him to handle everything by himself. I would ask Sushang, but it’s more important that she concentrates on honing her own skills right now.”

Something Moze said rings in your head.

“And…,” you start. “I’m guessing you can’t help either because you haven’t cooked in a while?”

Jiaoqiu remains silent. More hints from previous conversations seem to pop into your head.

You ask again, tone much quieter and more polite, “You told Yukong your blindness is relatively recent. Is… is that why you’ve stopped cooking?”

“I’d get in the way of too many people. Plus, I can really only trust Moze to help me in the kitchen, but that’d hinder his own growth as a chef. I couldn’t ask that of him.”

“So those appetizers –“

“That was a one-time thing. The others know how to replicate them by now.”

“But I want to eat your food.”

The words fly out before you can think about them. You gasp at your audacity, hands flying to seal your mouth, and Jiaoqiu has a surprised look on his face.

It takes a few moments before Jiaoqiu breaks the silence with huffs of chuckles. “You called me a genius the other day, didn’t you?”

You nod at first, but remembering that he can’t see, affirm vocally.

“It’s just a personal peeve of mine, but I detest being called that.”

Furrowing your brows and scrunching your nose, you try to think of why.

Jiaoqiu… Blind… Genius… Hate… Feixiao…

You let out another audible gasp, this time horrified.

“I remember,” you hiss.

No wonder his name’s familiar. 

You’ve never paid much attention because you were so entrenched in your own work, but a few years ago, Jiaoqiu was a superstar in the culinary world. He was winning awards left and right, despite not having even graduated culinary school. But then, he suddenly disappeared, and all of the tabloids were speculating as to why. He didn’t come back into the limelight until he joined Yaoqing and became Feixiao’s right-hand man.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but…”

“I was poisoned.”

You gape at him.

He continues, indifferent to your loud reactions. “Being a ‘genius’ comes with its own share of problems. I had classmates who were envious of my achievements, and one of them slipped methanol into a dish they wanted me to try.”

The story’s horrifying itself, but what leaves you completely stunned is Jiaoqiu’s nonchalance. He’s speaking as if he’s reading the news, as if this terrible thing happened to some stranger and not to him.

“Oh, Jiaoqiu…”

“It’s alright. I owe Feixiao for entrusting much of Yaoqing to me.”

“Thanks for sharing these painful memories with me…”

Jiaoqiu simply nods. “I hope the Zhuming Dessert Bar sees better days.”

V. Fuqi Feipian

Everything does seem to calm down, though there’s never truly a peaceful day when you’re working in the restaurant industry.

Lingsha returns in good shape, and with her and Yunli’s help, the three of you begin to offer additional training sessions after work to better prepare the newcomers. You’re a small team, after all, so it’s only right that you have each other’s backs.

The launch of the Mid-Autumn Festival goes as well as Yukong and Feixiao predict. Revenue streams are the highest they’ve ever been for the Zhuming Dessert Bar, and the food seems to be well-received. There are always a few pesky hate comments on social media platforms, but those can’t be helped.

Most importantly, your relationship with Jiaoqiu has improved dramatically. You first tested the waters by sending him an hour-long ASMR video of cat purrs, and he replied likewise with a five-minute compilation of foxes yipping and laughing. Also, even though there’s no reason to meet anymore, you still drop by and bother the pink-haired chef whenever you have the time. Mostly, it’s just you pestering him to make you food and him refusing, but after ten minutes or so of pointless bantering, he relents and you help him around the kitchen, setting timers, fetching ingredients, and making sure he doesn’t cut himself.

For the most part, he does well even without your assistance. His sense of taste is incredibly acute, and his hands seem to remember how to slice at different angles, widths, and shapes, all from rote memory. Still, it seems that having you there provides an additional layer of safety, and you’re more than happy to oblige.

“What are you going to make for me this time?”

You’re holding Jiaoqiu by the hands, steering him towards the industrial fridges standing tall to one side of the kitchen. Unlike the narrow and rectangular layout of the Zhuming Dessert Bar’s kitchen, the Yaoqing’s is much more spacious and has sufficient walking room.

“The freezer should have a piece of beef shank.” You let go of one of his hands to open the door, and as he said, there’s a plastic-wrapped chunk on the top shelf. You take it out, and then walk the two of you over to the central island, where there’s a large cutting board and knife.

“Knife to your right, beef to your left. Is there anything else I should grab?”

“Can you get some sesame seeds, chili oil, and a stalk of celery?”

As you collect the items, you watch him from the corner of your eye. Jiaoqiu picks up the beef shank by the fingertips, and using his other hand to roughly measure out the length of the cutting board, sets the meat down near the center. Then, with fleeting touches, he feels for the wooden handle of his knife.

“The blade’s facing downwards,” you call out.

“Thanks,” he replies.

With his left hand, he traces the shank until he reaches the edge, where he backtracks by a few millimeters and curls his fingers in so that the first joints are tucked away. With steady movements, he brings the knife over with his right hand until the flat of the blade meets his curled fingers, and now he knows where to cut. Though he’s slow, much slower than a professional chef should be, every slice is done without hesitation. There’s no wavering, no stopping, no interrupting the motion of the knife being plunged down onto the cutting board. He continues, procedurally shifting his left hand back and right hand forward, until he’s divided the chunk of beef into beautifully thin slices.

You only come back when he’s set his knife down.

“You still haven’t told me what you’re making.”

“The name’s a little misleading,” he says, “but it’s a dish I grew up eating quite frequently. Do you think you’re up to trying something spicy?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please, when have you made something not spicy?”

His lips break into a small, genuine smile. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Grab a bowl with a short rim, will you?”

“Yes, chef!”

Into the bowl, he transfers the beef shank and pours spoonfuls of chili oil, salt, and white sugar on top. He mixes everything, ensuring that the tips of the chopsticks don’t puncture through the meat, and sets the dish aside.

He then picks up the knife again, which you follow up by placing the celery stalk onto the cutting board.

“Center middle”

“Leaf intact?”

“Yes.”

He searches for the end of the stalk, and when he finds it, he chops the leafy section off. He makes diligent work of the rest, first splitting the stalk in horizontal half before chopping it vertically into small bits. When he’s finished, he transfers the celery pieces into the bowl, giving the ingredients a good mix again, before returning to mince the celery leaves.

When he’s finished, he pushes the bowl away from the cutting board. He says, “You’ll realize that Szechuan food is quite simple to put together. This dish is called fuqi feipian.”

“You said the name was misleading.”

“Well, its literal translation means ‘husband and wife lung slices.’”

You can’t help but chuckle at the name. “I don’t know if that’s supposed to be romantic or gory.”

Jiaoqiu smirks and crosses his arms. “Either way, it’s spicier than all of the other things I’ve cooked for you. Take a bite.”

Mentally, you prepare for the numbing bite of the spices and chilis as you eat a slice of beef. The acidity of the oil and celery leaf garnishing hit you immediately, and you almost choke at the sudden impact of flavor.

You cry out, “Spicy!”

“I told you.”

You quickly swallow before picking out pieces of celery and peanuts to soothe your tongue.

“Seriously, Jiaoqiu, how can you eat this all the time?”

He simply shrugs. “I can’t really taste anything else.”

“Wait, what?”

“I started losing my sense of taste in culinary school. The doctors said it was probably due to stress from the competitions and media appearances. Now, I can only really eat very strong and spicy flavors.”

You almost drop your chopsticks onto the floor.

“Jiaoqiu,” you choke, “you can’t keep dropping these severely depressing facts about yourself out of nowhere.”

“Oh, sorry, should I have mentioned a trigger warning or something?”

You huff unhappily before taking another bite, barely managing the stinging heat at the back of your throat.

Jiaoqiu suddenly asks, “Did you enjoy culinary school?”

You pause to reflect. “I kinda took an unconventional path. I actually have a Bachelor in something completely unrelated to cooking, but I couldn’t find a full-time job after graduating and decided to give baking a shot. Baking school was hellish, though, I can’t lie.”

He makes a noise of surprise when you finish.

“You didn’t enjoy baking school?”

You scratch the back of your head. “I mean, it was tough. I don’t remember much besides crying a lot and feeling very incompetent. It’s hard being surrounded by really young and accomplished people all the time.”

“I thought you were going to say you had the time of your life.”

“Why?”

“Well…,” Jiaoqiu starts, though he turns to face away from you for some reason. “You seem very optimistic and easy to get along with. People like you thrive in social environments, like school.”

You try to muster your usual smile, but you can’t will your mouth to stretch or your cheeks to lift. “I guess, and it’s not like I hated my experience. I was just… I was too concerned about making up for lost time.”

You don’t want to think about this anymore, so you take another bite.

Through a mouthful, you pivot the conversation. “By the way, there’s no way I can finish this all by myself. Have some, too!”

You tap Jiaoqiu on the shoulder so that he turns to face you again, and you tightly grip the chopsticks so that the food doesn’t drop.

Jiaoqiu tries to deny at first. “No, no, I already ate dinner.”

“But Jiaoqiu, please! You made so much, and it’d be such a waste to keep it overnight. C’mon, just one bite, it’s right in front of you.”

He opens his mouth and leans forward, but either because your hands are shaky or because he simply cannot reach, he keeps missing.

You ask with slight amusement, “May I?”

“Just hurry and give it to me.”

You slide your free hand underneath his chin and hold his head in place. Initially, he sputters out of shyness and embarrassment, but finally relents as you tell him to keep his mouth open.

When he’s chewing on it, you say, “Really good, right? You should cook for yourself more often.”

“It’s fine. Could be better,” he replies. “Besides, it’s dangerous cooking by myself.”

You shrug. “I can always come over and help, like I did tonight.”

He sighs. “You’re so demanding. You just want more free food.”

You giggle with glee and clap at his shoulders. “Of course not!” You feign hurt. “I just want to spend more time with a good friend!”

Jiaoqiu huffs and you think he rolls his eyes. “Friends,” he mutters, “don’t eat from the same pair of chopsticks.”

You feel your face burn, having been completely unaware of the implications of your actions.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you retort, though there’s really no bite to your words. “You haven’t even tried my desserts once.”

VI. Sweet Run Bing

On the last day of the Mid-Autumn Festival, you come over with some leftovers to hand to the Yaoqing staff. You’ve gotten to know them quite well, and of course, Sushang and Moze are the first ones to appear.

“What’d you bring this time?” Sushang sing-songs.

You set the boxes on a counter and list everything out. “There’s coconut cake, a Taiwanese rendition of French custard tarts, some of our special mooncakes, and sweet run bing. There’s more than enough for everyone!”

You try to take a step back so that all of the Yaoqing chefs can reach your desserts, but you bump into somebody.

Or more specifically, someone holds you by the shoulders.

You look over to find Jiaoqiu resting his hands on you, face turned towards the commotion in the center of the kitchen.

He muses, “Sweet run bing? Isn’t it usually salty?”

You laugh. “Yes, but it’s pretty popular in Taiwan to add ice cream and nuts to make a sweeter version of it.”

The question always floats in the air but is usually left unaddressed. This time, though, Jiaoqiu surprises you.

“Can I try?”

A sense of pride and satisfaction pumps through your entire body. “Of course!” you exclaim. “Let me get you one!”

The two of you retreat to the calmer corner of his office, and you watch him intently as he holds the run bing close to his nose.

“I smell peanuts, almonds, and vanilla. There’s also something sweet?”

“Yes, we added some of our homemade canned peaches!”

“I see. Let me try it.”

Slowly, methodically, Jiaoqiu rolls up the crepe and takes a bite from it. You gulp and can almost feel beads of sweat forming at your temples from the anticipation and anxiety.

Then, something in his features softens. 

“The texture’s great.”

At his compliment, you bound out of your seat, whooping and cheering.

“I’ll take it! Next time, I’ll make something you can actually taste. I roasted the nuts to create a smokey flavor and to add some crunch, but I didn’t want it to be too overpowering, so I also added some herbs, like ground coriander and –“

“Wait, there’s coriander in this?”

You comically pause in the middle of your celebrating. “Uh, yes?”

It’s your first time seeing the man… so frightened.

You can’t help but glare at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t like coriander.”

Jiaoqiu doesn’t move.

“Isn’t coriander supposed to be important in Szechuan cuisine? You were the one nagging my ears off weeks ago –“

“First of all, I wasn’t nagging you. Second, I personally don’t like to eat it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t use it.”

“Sure, fine, but the run bing doesn’t taste bad, does it?”

Jiaoqiu grimaces. “It tastes fine… even if there’s coriander in it.”

You smugly croon at him. “What other foods do you hate? I’ll convince you otherwise.”

Jiaoqiu takes another big bite of the run bing, before replying, uncharacteristically serious, “I’ll eat whatever you give me.”

You flush at his words, rendered unable to speak. In fact, you have to clear your throat a couple of times in order to respond. “And… you’ll cook for me, too?”

He nods, with firm intent. “For as long as you want me to.”

You feel like the vanilla ice cream in the run bing, melting and dripping, positively overheating.

[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit - drabble 4

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara enlists help to find you the perfect christmas gift

warnings: none

word count: 700+

author's note: for @melrodrigo -- good luck on ur exams!

previous part | next part

Tara’s phone was pressed against her ear as she paced around her bedroom, her feet surely burning a hole into the floor below. C’mon, c’mon, she thought, listening to the dial tone. Please pick up.

There were three days until Christmas; only three days until she was supposed to drive up to your parents’ house to celebrate the holiday. In theory, there wasn’t any issue with that. However, when Tara had woken up that morning, she had realized one very important thing: amongst all of her Christmas shopping, she had yet to get something for you.

“Hello?” The voice that answered the call was small, young, boyish. Tara perked up at the sound, grinning.

“Nate! Hi! It’s Tara,” she greeted.

There was a grumble on the other end of the line. “This is Eddie,” the boy said, clearly a bit annoyed at being mistaken for his brother. “What’s up, Tara?”

She sighed, embarrassed that she had to seek out your younger brothers, and admitted, “I need your help. Yours and Nate’s.”

“With what?” he asked.

“I don’t know what to get Y/N for Christmas,” she mumbled.

Eddie barked out a laugh, and Tara clamped her eyes shut, thinking, This is why you don’t ask a middle schooler for help. “Can you repeat that?” he giggled.

“You heard me the first time.”

After a moment of laughing, the boy said, “Yeah, okay. We can help you.”

Tara nodded. “Good. I’ll be there soon.”

* * *

Nearly four hours later, Tara was roaming the streets of your hometown, both of your brothers walking beside her sluggishly; they had already been helping her search for a present for an hour, and they were growing bored.

“What if you got her--” Nate started, only to be swiftly cut off by Tara.

“Nate,” she began, glancing at the boy, “if you suggest a real sword one more time--”

Nate shook his head, pointing his finger at a store on the other side of the street. “Look, they have a Shakespeare bust over there,” he said, his eyes sparkling with the same excitement you’d always have when you talked about the playwright.

Could he be any more like his sister? she wondered as she looked at the bust. It didn’t seem nearly as nice as the one you already had in your apartment, and she shook her head. “I don’t think she needs another one of those,” she said. More like I don’t think I need another one of those staring at me while we--

“You could get her a puppy,” Eddie suggested, a sly smile on his face.

Tara groaned. All of the suggestions that the boy had given had to do with animals, and with your busy schedule, she knew you couldn’t handle one of those. “Eddie, I can’t get your sister a puppy.”

Eddie frowned. “First you said no to the lizard, then the snake, then the cat, and now a puppy? What, do you not like animals or something?” He gasped. “Are you an animal hater?!”

With all of the self-control she could muster, Tara managed not to punch the boy. Thank god my mom only had two kids, she thought. I love these boys, but I would not have been able to handle a younger sibling.

“No,” she sighed. “I love animals, but your sister doesn’t have the time for any sort of pet right now,” Tara explained, her eyes continuing to scan the front windows of stores that they passed. “Besides--”

She was interrupted by Nate as he halted, throwing his arm out. “Hark!” he shouted, practically bouncing with excitement. Tara stopped short, whipping around as worry flooded through her. Is he hurt? I am so dead if he’s hurt.

Eddie took a little longer to finally pause, turning lazily and eyeing his brother. “Could you stop being such a nerdball?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Shut up, Edmund,” Nate retorted.

Almost as soon as the name slipped from his lips, Tara was rushing forward to pull the boys apart from each other, yelling, “No hitting!” repeatedly. When she finally got between them, she sighed.

“Is this normal for you two?” she asked, glancing at each boy.

Nate nodded. “Yup.”

“Oh, definitely,” Eddie added.

Tara huffed. “Great.” She looked at Nate. “Now, why’d you scream ‘hark’ earlier?”

The boy pointed to the store that they had stopped in front of, his finger leading Tara’s attention directly to--

She gasped, her eyes widening and a smile adorning her face. “It’s perfect!”

[diazsdimples]

🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Please ignore that I'm doing this several months late 😬

🤠 - 24 for Ranch AU!

But that did leave him with an awful lot of time on his hands. Bobby and spare time have never been great friends – the last time he was left to his own devices for more than a day, he’d ended up knee deep in planning a lavish wedding that had ultimately been chucked out the door when he and Athena realised, they really didn’t need anything more than themselves and the kids. All that to say that it isn’t really surprising that Bobby downloads the Sims 4 onto his ancient laptop and creates a full-scale version of the ranch. He gets the dimensions off the listing, and with the help of a convenient floorplan and google earth, he manages to make a rather convincing version of the home. He does up the exterior to look just like the ranch house, complete with the large veranda and the ornate trims around the spandrels, and even manages to find a tile that looks exactly like the path leading to the front door. The interior is a different matter. Bobby doesn’t love the colour scheme either, and he can’t see himself coping with an oven as miniscule as the one that comes with the home, so he allows himself a little creative licence. It’s just a video game, after all. He’s not seriously planning it out. Several hours later, Bobby sits back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. Blessedly, Athena still has a job, which means Bobby hasn’t needed to worry about her finding out his momentary lapse in sanity, but it also means he hasn’t got anyone to show off his creation to – a thought that upsets him a little more than it should, were he being normal about the whole thing. He’s fiddling around with some of the furniture in the master bedroom when the front door bursts open and a furious looking Buck stalks over his threshold, followed by a harried Eddie. “What’s going –” “Bobby, you wouldn’t believe what that man made us do!” Buck explodes as he starts pacing the kitchen. Eddie leans against the countertop, running a hand over his face. “I know you said I shouldn’t let him get to me but I can’t, he’s just so –” Buck trails off, looking over at Bobby. His eyes flicker from Bobby’s patient expression to the open laptop, still displaying the Fake Ranch. “Are we… interrupting something?” “No.” Bobby goes to shut the laptop but Buck is quicker. “Is that the Sims?” Buck asks incredulously. “Man, you must be bored, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play video games.”

❄️ - 24 for Frostpunk AU!

“You did it,” he repeats, praying his voice won’t betray him. “You’re safe.” At his words, Eddie’s eyes shut, and his brings his hands up to his face as he lets out a deep exhale. His fingers shake as he wipes a tear from his cheek. “I didn’t think we’d – I thought -” Eddie swallows thickly. He looks around the tent, eyes wet, and his gaze falls on a familiar mop of brown curls. “Is that – is that my son? Can I see him, please?” Buck squeezes Eddie’s shoulder again, offering him a smile. “Of course.” When Buck reaches Christopher’s bed, the kid looks up at him quizzically. It’s clear that he wasn’t as blissfully unaware of his father’s event as Buck had hoped, despite the small crowd of medics around him, all intent on distracting him. “Is everything okay with Dad?” he asks Buck, without preamble. Buck crouches down to Christopher’s level and brushes a loose curl out of his eyes. “Yeah bud, everything’s okay. Better than, actually – he’s awake.” Buck holds out his hand for Christopher. “Want to come see him? He’d like to see you.” Christopher throws himself into Buck’s arms, taking him by surprise. Buck catches him around the middle and hauls him up, carrying him to Eddie’s cot. The moment Christopher sees his father, sitting upright, awake and breathing, a great sob escapes his lips. Buck lowers him into Eddie’s waiting arms and pauses, not sure what to do as he watches father embrace son. Fat tears roll down Eddie’s cheeks as he holds Christopher as tight as he can, muscles shaking after weeks of no use.

[browneyedboys]

will you walk me home

you can find my other work here!

Pairing: rafe cameron x reader

Warnings: cursing, frat parties, light discussion of alcohol, overall fluff (let me know if you find something else)

Word count: 2.3K

Synopsis: Second chance encounters with Rafe Cameron lead to discussions of fate and the idea of what happens when you go to frat parties. (second part to libraries after midnight)

a/n: okay so maybe this will be a series?! I'm having fun with this concept and I still promise nothing, feedback is always appreciated! 

The next time you see Rafe Cameron, only a few days later, you’re celebrating. The conclusion of midterms means that you’re slightly less stressed on a daily basis, a cause for celebration. You manage to convince Paige, your big, and some other girls to go to a Phi Gam party with you, only slightly hoping to run into your favorite golden boy. 

An hour or so passes and you’ve managed to go from sober to a flushed, giggling mess. Alcohol always manages to get your blood pumping to exactly where you don’t want it. The loud bass booms through the house and seems to come to rest in your lungs. It’s as they’ve developed their own beat. The slightly suffocating feeling manages to suck you back into reality; you need some air.

“I’m going to step outside for a few minutes,” you call to Paige, watching as she nods and turns to some of your sisters you both had been dancing with before. Shoving through the crowd, you pick up on the panicky feeling in your chest. There are too many people close to you, it’s too loud, and you’ve already had a big week. 

You finally reach the back door of the house, pulling it open in time to quell your beating heart. You usually excel in social situations, well at least enough to where you enjoy yourself. It seems with the intensity of the week a party wasn’t the best idea. Finding purchase on a brick retaining wall, you bring your knees to your chest and settle your head into the space between. The 4-7-8 count of breath that you learned for your anxiety helps a bit. 

Four seconds you breathe in, seven you hold it in, eight you let it go. Crowds never were your thing. Alcohol never really lets you free, it just makes you more giggly or sad, depending on the week. This week it leaned more towards the latter and the crowd around you came crashing down. 

“Hey, you okay?” You’re pulled from your breathing exercise, and in consequence from your thoughts. Lifting your head out of your knees, you find the perfect picture of Rafe standing before you. He holds a drink in his hand, his eyebrows pulled together as he maintains his gaze on you. Blinking, you extract your gaze from him, returning to your shell. 

You nod, a bit too quickly to be convincing, then resume your attempt to regain your breath. “I just…” you pause, marveling at the breeze on your arms, “I’ve never really gotten used to being in a crowd of people yet never feeling more lonely, you know?”

Rafe exhales, you watch him shift foot to foot through the little crack between your legs. His feet then step and disappear as you feel the warmth that radiates off of him settle beside you. A hand comes to rest between your shoulder blades, thumb tracing the juts of your spine. 

It’s so quiet behind the booming house you can nearly hear his breathing. You make your best effort to match your own breath to the rhythmic pace of Rafe’s thumb. As it swoops up the valley of your spine you pull air in, down you purse your lips and exhale. Little else seems to pull your thoughts from how nice it is to find peace in another person’s presence.

You’re so used to putting on a front or willing more energy to meet the expectations of others. All your life, it has felt like only a select few people truly manage to see how you are. Unbothered in the natural state, you feel at ease with this boy you’ve only really talked to twice. It’s an entirely cliche thought — but it feels like you’ve known him your whole life. You’re not sure if romantic soulmates exist but they have to in some capacity. People just seem to fit together in such unique ways, it can’t be only a billion coincidences. 

It would crush your soul to learn that the little connections in daily life happen due to mere circumstance. Like people on their deathbed call out to god — you can’t go about your life with no strings. It’s a terrifying thought that nothing draws people together. Fate has to exist. 

“What’s pulling you from life?” Rafe voices barely louder than a whisper. The rises and falls of his speech fits right in with the atmosphere around the two of you. 

You lift your head from your legs, resting your chin on your knees. You tilt your head to the side until you’ve squished your cheek just slightly, taking in the way Rafe’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Does it freak you out how many people live on this spinning ball? How every decision you make affects the entire trajectory of your life? How you could pass by the person you belong with because of something stupid?”

“Woah,” Rafe exhales, softly grinning at you, “That’s a minor crisis, I try not to think about everything too much. It’s so much easier to go about day to day life not in my own brain but sometimes I do think about that. I like to think that everything happens for a reason, even something stupid.”

You nod along with his words, if anything, Rafe seems to agree with you. 

“I mean even just me walking out here at the moment when I saw you could be seen as some twist of fate. It’s really easy to get lost in the world at times but I try to not overthink everything. How would you even know that they’re the person you belong with until you take the time to get to know them.”

“But fate has to play a part, right?” You question, lifting your head from your knees. You shift to sit like a pretzel carefully balanced on the wall. 

The uncertainty of your voice throws Rafe for a loop. This version of you is starkly different to the girl who told off his dad a few days ago. The crease between your eyebrows beckons him to solve all your problems like you tried to do for him. With a gentle manner, he smooths out the creases with his thumb. “That’s up for you to decide, honey. If fate is something that makes you feel better about the world then there is no harm in believing in it. What’s the difference between believing in fate and believing in a god? Both offer the same reassurances about what we don’t know.”

“Sometimes it feels like I don’t know a whole lot.” You murmur, the air gains a chill as your words leave your lips. October means the changing of the seasons and a whole lot of things to look forward to, but right now it's all a bit too much. Life feels so demanding. 

Rafe’s thumb traces your brow, pausing on your temple. Warmth cascades down the side of your face before his hand eventually settles, cupping your jaw. “You don’t have to know anything,” Rafe hums, “I mean you’re what, 20? You still have the rest of your life to figure it out.”

“I’m usually a giggly drunk,” you complain, leaning into the warmth of his hand on your face. Your eyes flutter every so slightly as the week seems to catch up to you. It’s so nice to have somebody out here with you. It would be too cold on your own. Even the pause between your own speech feels right. You don’t overthink your every movement around the golden boy. “What happened to me?”

The weight of your head in his hand prompts Rafe to shift closer to you. Your knee overlaps his thigh as you lean into his touch. “I’m sure you’ve had a long week; you’re probably exhausted and then you got overstimulated in there.” He’s so tempted to draw you into his arms and never let you go. He could spend a lifetime protecting you, like the way you did against his dad. “Maybe you should get some rest, call it an early night from the thrills of Phi Gam.” He proposes when the moments when your eyes are closed outweigh the moments they’re open. Rafe feels a new tug in his chest. He thinks an invisible string might tie your pinky to his. 

Your eyes meet his. You trace the shadows across his face, sharply contrasting to how he looked the last time you saw him. Maybe if you spend enough time noting the way he looks at you you’ll understand what it is you're feeling. The feeling that prompts you to ask, “Can you walk me home again?” 

Rafe’s quick to agree, with a short, “Of course, honey.” It turns your insides gooey like his term of endearment. You could get used to Rafe’s company. As you both stand, his hands leave a cold trail in their absence. 

The boom of the party increases as you make your way back towards the house. The lawn, green in the way that only money can achieve, is littered with far more people than when you first pushed through the doors. Perhaps everyone realized just how suffocating the air is inside. You glance over your shoulder as you step back inside, double checking that Rafe is behind you. Or maybe it's just an excuse to take another glimpse at the golden boy. The too warm air rushes into your lungs. It stinks of too many bodies who are at least a little wasted. 

He smiles at you, dropping his lips to your ear. “Do you need to make your rounds and say goodbye?” Rafe’s whisper elicits goosebumps. You shake your head; you can just text Paige that you went home. It’s not like you’re the designated driver or that you were incredibly drunk. It’s too loud for you to vocalize your entire thought process so you just continue through the house. Rafe’s hand find’s purchase on the small of your back as the people get denser. His thumb resumes its pace from earlier, moving back and forth. 

Rafe has come to recognize the scrunch between your eyebrows as a stress indicator. Watching the way it dissolves slightly as he guides you through the house, only for your brows to pull together as a person stills your path. Preston, Rafe’s fraternity brother stands in front of the pair of you. 

“Cameron!” Preston calls out. “I’ve missed you buddy. Where’ve you been?” He sways back and forth with the constitution of a giraffe. Rafe has always had a soft spot for Preston; they went through rush together and endured some stupid shit. He is the closest thing that Rafe has to a family out here. 

“Hey Preston, I’m going to walk Cory home and then I’ll be back okay. We can hang out after that.” Rafe answers in what he hopes will be both his first and last response. He can tell you just want to go home. 

Your eyes follow Preston as he stills, seemingly realizing that you’re right in front of him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Cory, Rafe’s asked me a hundred questions about you since that one night.” The implication of his statement hangs in the air, swirling with the idea of Rafe thinking of you as much as you think of him. 

“Oh, it’s great to meet you too!” You flash him a smile before glancing over your shoulder, wanting nothing more than to catch Rafe looking even a little bit flustered. It’s nice to know that you’re not the only one a little hung up on your shared interactions. Rafe meets your eyes with a faint grin. He doesn’t look pink but you miss the way he shook his head when Preston said what he did. He’s had a few seconds to recover, for which he is eternally grateful. 

“Well good night,” you duck around Preston, who has grown distracted by the lights dancing across the ceiling. Once you make it to the front of the house your idea of the night comes crashing back on you. Midterms and their conclusion was supposed to mean a break from the chaos that is your life but you seem to attract just a bit of chaotic energy wherever you go. 

The air has grown chillier in the few minutes you made your way through the frat house, or perhaps you got used to the stale air inside. Either way goosebumps creep up your arms, something Rafe notices with a surprising amount of speed. He shifts closer to you as you walk towards Pi Phi’s house, moving his arm from your back to your shoulders. He draws you ever so slightly towards him. 

Something about the ease you seem to instill in him causes Rafe to be a bit more direct. “Preston really did just call me out, but he’s right, in all his tipsy truth, I do like you…”

His honesty catches you off guard. “Rafe.” The short walk concludes as the pair of you draw on the start of the walkway to your house. You step out of his bubble, “I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupts with a finger gracing your lips, it tugs your bottom lip with a comforting heaviness, “I just wanted you to know. You’ve had a long night and I’m sure you need a few days to process everything. Goodnight Cory.” Rafe takes a step back from you, his finger falling from your mouth. He hesitates just out of reach. 

Against his better judgment he quickly takes a step forward and presses a chase kiss on your forehead. Warmth blooms from the spot where his lips made contact long after his figure retreats back to his frat house. It stays even after you wash your face and put on your matching pajama set. In bed you trace the spot with a memory, smiling yourself into a dream filled night. 

[roll-of-royces]

L&DS Drabble (With AFAB Reader)

Content: Something terrible happens, it only makes sense that you would end up here at Zayne's door.

Rating: T for trauma

Spoilers: Chapter 4

Word Count: 1309

Your training tells you in some deeper part of your brain that you are in a state of shock. There's blood dripping down your fingers, and burns in your clothes. Caleb's necklace is in your hand, clenched tight around the gone warm metal. 

People are giving you a wide berth, the ones that try to assist you, you only shrug off. You're not entirely sure where you're going, bloody and ruined until you see the door. Zayne. 

This is where Zayne lives. You reach for the handle, it is a bio-imprinted lock instead of a key. It's likely keyed into his handprint. The door handle flashes green and slides open. Strange, it must have been left unlocked. That's not like him.

You step into the main living space, freezing at the entryway as you try to recall how to take off your shoes. Does it matter? Does anything matter? You're about to get blood all over the clean floorboards anyway. 

Stumbling forward your toes catch on the raised entrance and you crash forward. You're brain is so slow. Too slow. You hit the ground hard, a rush of breath leaves you and you lay there the world spinning. Are you spinning?  

You're not dying, you know that. There's not enough blood, and yet you feel like you're dying. Because the necklace is still in your grip and you can still see the fire, smell the ash, see the lone bloody remains of your grandmother's hand. 

For a while, you drift in place, stuck in the loop of the explosion. You are there, on the front steps of your family home and then you are in Zayne's house. It loops like that for a long time and still, you don't sleep. 

The door behind you opens, there's a pause and you hear Zayne exhale a breath that sounds terribly like your name. And then he's crouching over you, rolling you carefully onto your back. You meet his wide eyes and watch the terror in them fade to calm when he sees you blink. 

"Where does it hurt?" He asks, but you don't need to tell him; he's already going through his paces, figuring out what is blood and what is burn damage. 

He lets out another sharp breath before leaning back. Zayne moves to your side and then you're up, high up in the air. In his arms, in the sky. You're floating. You nuzzle your face into his labcoat, he still smells of the hospital. 

There's the harsh scent of anti-septic and whatever other chemicals mix in the surgery room. It's nice, it's a better smell than the smoking remnants of your clothes and family. You're pressed down on something cold and with a shift of your head, woozy though it is, realize it's his dining room table. 

"Am I dying, Doctor Zayne?" You ask, trying to sound light, trying to tease him like you love to do. 

Instead of the dismissive playful huff of breath you're used to his body quivers. "No, but I need to examine you. Don't move." 

You look up at the chandelier, his house is nice. You've never been inside before, but that doesn't surprise you. He's one of the best doctors in Linkon, he has to be well-paid for his contributions. There's a shuffle, the tap of glass onto his stone counter, and then Zayne is leaning over you again. 

He's got his thousand meter doctor stare back, all cold and focused. You want to reach out and poke his nose. Instead, you whisper, "Caleb and grandma are dead." 

Zayne flinches. "Did you receive these injuries when that happened?" 

"They were in the house." You say as tears flood your vision. They burn your eyes before running down into your hair. "I was in the yard, I was going in. I was about to ... " A sob chokes out of you. "They're gone." 

He's treating your hand, not the one with the necklace but the other. But you can see the way he grinds his teeth. It's not like he didn't know them, you all grew up together. Unlike you, Zayne doesn't fall apart, he keeps working. "How close were you to the explosion? Where were you in the yard?" 

"I don't remember." You try to think, but you've been in the yard so many times. You've traveled up those steps a hundred times, every single day after school, walking with Caleb. Coming and going to see friends. The blast threw you back.

"Zayne." You don't even know why you're trying to get his attention, "It hurts." 

He leans over you, one hand propped up by your head. "Where?" 

"Everywhere. How can I do this without them?" 

He leans in closer, looking at your eyes. He's searching for something. "You don't have a concussion. I know you are grieving ... but I need you to focus on what is in your control. I have to make sure - I need you to be alright. Tell me if this causes any discomfort?" 

From there Zayne goes about examining every inch of you. He presses on your ribs, chest, knees. Zayne bends every finger and toe, all of it clinical and methodical. By the time he starts his double-checking, you're barely aware he's touching you. 

☆☆☆☆☆

You wake up in a room you don't recognize. There are plush blankets bundled around you, it's dark, the moon is high. You can make out its glowing facade through the wide bay window. It takes a moment for you to recognize the shape of a figure outlined by the moon. 

Zayne is awake, staring out the window. You can make out the whites of his eyes as he looks out at the dark. You're in his bed, in his bedroom. Now that you're somewhat aware of your surroundings, you're aware of how much you ache. 

There's a glass of water by the bed; you reach for it and as you pick it up, it slips from your weak grasp and hits the floor with a thunk splashing water everywhere. He startles, before he's on his feet.

"I'm sorry." You frown at the puddle. 

"It's alright." He steps into a bathroom and returns with a towel, tossing it down carelessly at the water. "I'll get more. Try not to move too much." 

When he returns he holds the glass for you, helping you drink. Forcing you to not choke or drink too quickly. He sets the empty glass down on the end table. "You need more rest." 

He stands, intending to leave; all you can do is reach out and grab his wrist. Your hand shakes with the attempt to hold onto him as tightly as you can. "Don't go." 

Zayne nods, giving in, and loops back around until he is sliding into bed with you. This isn't exactly what you expected, but the comfort, his closeness is welcome. He sits on top of the blankets, back propped against the headboard. 

His hair looks so dark in the low light, his jaw stern, nose sharp. Beautiful. He has always been beautiful. Should you tell him? 

"Can I ... " You look up at him, shuffling closer. "Can I spend my holidays with you?" 

The idea of being alone on the days that used to be filled with your family makes something ache inside you deeper than the wounds that coat your skin. There's a hopelessness to it. 

His hand cards through your hair, normally you'd be shocked. You'd jump and stumble over your words and blush, but today you only sink deeper into his bed. "As many as you would like." 

You close your eyes as he keeps running his fingers through your hair, when you're almost asleep he asks, "Why did you come here of all places?" 

You don't bother to open your eyes when you reply, "I didn't know where else to go." 

[cecedownbad]

Hold On

Summary: A missing child's case resurfaced so many memories you wished to keep buried. Sure enough, seeking comfort from the heavy feelings came by as a form of a person. [Spencer Reid X Fem!Reader] Part 2.

Warning: Child abduction, death of a child, angst, no Y/N, made up last name: Cyrus, made up case, light fluff, hurt/ comfort, not too romance-y but alluding to it, not proof read, I don't think the mystery/crime aspect is good but let me hear thoughts guys. Something extra in tags, read after the story.

Word Count: 4.1k

Part 1

I'm so sorry this took so long, my exams, mental health, projects, assignments allll just rolled in the past months, and I've been doing everything to stay on top of writing. It's rushed towards the end but with all that's going on I hope it's okay. If anyone is up for part 3, I'm all for it .

Enjoy

"Those who cannot remember the past, are condemned to repeat it."

-George Santayana

'Okay, let's see, Conrad Miller, 16 years old, went missing on June 12th, 2007. Last seen by the local church with one of the volunteers, she was questioned once but was never linked as she had a solid alibi, her name was Grace Cyrus.' Tara paused. 'So she took Conrad, no she definitely didn't just take him, poor kid is definitely not okay.'

'Right now Stephen is our priority, the anniversary of Steven's disappearance is in 4 days, so what does she want with him now?' You pace in the room, spinning a pen you grabbed in your hand. 'I think that's something only you can answer, what happened 4 days prior to Steven's disappearance?' Tara pondered, she sat down, looking at you, intent on finding answers. '4 days prior…that was the day my dad— Daniel had come to visit, they, Grace and him got into a fight and Stevie, Steven tried to "protect" Daniel in his own way, he thought Mom was going to hurt him…'

Was it then that this all weighed down on you? Words long lost had started pouring through the cracks of memories locked away. You were never in that station in that moment, no, now you were back there.

'Stevie, get back here! We can't stop them!'

'No! No let go! I don't want Dad to go, Mom's going to send him away!'

'Steven!'

No matter how hard you tried, he slipped from your tensed grasp, landing right between two enraged adults.

Pacing the floor helped gather your thoughts, a little better.

'What was the very last thing she said to you when you left?'

The thought of how it all ended passed through your minds, each time much like a bullet to the brain but you push it all down, now wasn't the right time for you. 'everything okay there?' Tara asked you, it's only been a few minutes since you and Tara confronted the idea that Grace might have done more than anyone could have put together.

'Yeah just a lot going on in my head, I think I need a breather.'

'Hold that thought, JJ and Luke are back with Daniel,'

Your hand now wrapped around the empty coffee mug, a dad you haven't spoken to for the last two decades, what would you have to say? or better yet, what would he say to you? This isn't an official reunion, it's an interrogation and who knows what will spill out of your mouth if you see the very first man in your life that disappointed you, taught you that having a person in your life was enough to make you fall apart.

'JJ and I will go in first, you sit tight.' Tara patted your shoulder giving it a good squeeze before heading out the conference room.

It was soon after that Rossi, Reid and Emily came back in, all three harnessing disappointment with their stride. 'Hey, what happened?'

'Well, Rosa was not in her home, we searched the house and by the looks of it, she hardly came back there.' Emily sat down with her legs crossed. 'but, her room had keepsakes, maybe from the time you lived with her?'

'What did she have?'

'She had pictures, some old folded drawings, and the weirdest one, an old juice box.' as Emily finished, you sat up from your chair, 'an old juice box? Do you remember what flavour?'

'I think it was Apple? Why? Does it have something to do with Steven?'

'…'

'Cyrus?'

'That, uh, it's nothing, I think sentimental feelings do surface no matter what kind of person you are.' You began fidgeting with your sleeves, your mind now slowly began recalling events that transpired long ago. 'Is there something else? It looks like you aren't sure about something.' Rossi eyed your movements, he knew something was keeping you. 'My mother, she'd never show any sign that she felt remorse, not even as far as I could remember.'

'Okay Reid, stay with her, I'm going to check in with JJ and the rest. Rossi? Do you mind?' soon after, Rossi and Emily exited the room, leaving you and Spencer in the conference room. 'Could you tell me what kind of person your mother is?' Spencer sat down right before you, urging you to take a seat right next to him and you did.

'She was an uptight woman, she loved to be in control of her life that meant being in control of mine too, it's why I left. She loved being seen.'

'Being seen? What do you mean?'

'She was always a respected figure no matter where she went, be it at work or in the neighborhood, she pushed for that at home too. When Steven had disappeared, I would always remember how she would tell me he was in a better place, and that if I do anything to disobey her or question her authority, I would be punished.' your head hung as you remembered more, 'I would study, day and night, that was the only life I knew, if my grades dropped by a mark, she'd lock me in my room, made sure I only had books on my desk.'

'Did Daniel ever drop by after what happened to Steven?' Spencer asked gently, 'No, I never saw him after that, I thought he finally got sick of mom and left, but I see now that wasn't the case.'

'Okay—'

'You know the one thing I can't seem to remember though?' you looked up at Spencer, his eyebrows now furrowed in question. 'My mother would always say how beautiful I am, and…and that I look just like her, her very own reflection but, Spencer, I can't…I can't remember her face.' your voice sounded shattered at what came out of it. You felt the tears fall, but you couldn't turn away or hide them, Spencer saw just how much this hurts you.

'You are your own person, no one can ever take that from you, no matter what, you are you.' He held your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of your palm, that gave you a sign of comfort and you smiled at him. 'Alright, let's get back to the case.' quickly wiping away your tears and pasting on a smile, which you flash at Spencer, he in turn regained a more unmoving figure. 'When you said Rosa knew that Steven would never come back, what did you mean?'

'I was only a kid but to me it felt like she already knew that Steven had maybe...and all I could remember was a frown anytime I even remotely related to Steven.' You return with an answer. It was then the phone on the table went off.

'What is it Garcia?'

'So I dug into Daniel a bit more, and you aren't going to like this, so he was actually never in Bakersfield until a week ago, before that he was working as a cab driver in Nevada. He was in Nevada for a long time, but he touched base sometime in 2007, in the month of June. Looks like he tried several times to contact his ex wife but she never entertained any of it. What is concerning is that he was reported of stalking a young boy, said he mistook the boy for a boy he knew and he meant no harm but he was fired from his workplace and when was that? A little before coming over to Bakersfield.' Once Garcia had informed both of you, it was then JJ, Emily and Luke walked back in.

'What did the boy look like?' Spencer asked, 'I sent his picture to your phone.'

'Thank you Garcia.' You picked up your cell and scrolled through to find the image.

'No problemo.'

Upon quick inspection, you could tell at a glance the young boy and Steven shared a few similarities, nothing too obvious except hair colour and facial structure, age is the more obvious factor.

JJ walked in, arms crossed, she sighed but began asking what Garcia checked in for, 'Looks like Daniel was fired from his work place prior to coming to Bakersfield a week before Stephen's abduction.' You informed the three.

'If I didn't know any better, I'd say that's a trigger for him.' Emily began, 'Yeah, I agree.' and Luke followed suit.

'So he not only gets rejected by his ex-wife, but fired from his work place for stalking a boy that looks like his son, then he goes and kidnaps a boy that Rosa seemingly dotes on? Something doesn't add up.' JJ looked on with confusion. 'How did it go with him?' you asked finally.

'Said he had something vital for the case but he would only discuss it with you.' Emily sat down, her voice already etching with exhaustion. 'He's hiding something and my gut is saying it can't be good.'

'I'll go talk to him.' You were close to leaving the room, but Emily had halted your motions.

'Wait,'

'Yeah?'

'Reid will go with you, Tara might want to step out.' You gave a quick nod to Emily's order.

Every step to the interrogation room, you could hear the pained voices of yours, more precisely, from when you were a child. A young girl, alone in a room with nothing but her thoughts, you swallowed hard as you stood by the entrance of the viewing room. When you entered, you let Spencer call Tara from the interrogation room to the viewing room. 'No matter what, don't give in to his requests, you need to break him down, and if you ever want to leave, you can.' Tara gave you a small nudge and she stayed back in the room.

This was it, you let Spencer lead you into the interrogation room, allowing him to get there before you creeped on behind.

'How many times do I need to tell you people? Can't you bring my daug—you, your—'

'Let me be very clear, you have something vital for this case and I'm willing to hear you out, but say or do anything and you will be escorted out of the door by agents, understood?' the firm voice you let out hid every sorry cry that was wailing in you, having not seen your father for 20 years was a shock but not something that should be seen. 'Look at you, what it's been 15, 20 years, oh my beautiful little angel, I missed you.' honey coated words slipped from his mouth and every cell in you twisted in anger and contempt, 'Mr. Carter, the case.' Spencer stepped in this time.

'Always in such a hurry, well, since you brought my little girl. I know where the kid is being held.' He sat there with no remorse, no care that a child, close to the age of the son he lost years ago, was missing.

'Where might that be?'

'I can take you there, but I'll only go if she goes with me.'

After so long, he cares or at least that's what he's showing but you knew what he was playing at, he thought he could get away light just because his flesh and blood was in the justice system, what a sorry bastard.

'I think we're done here.' Spencer had got up from his chair but you stayed seated, deal or not you wanted to break the man in front of you and that was what was nailing you down to your chair. 'Mr. Carter, what good will it do if I went with you? Was it not enough that you came in here demanding to see your daughter about a case I know damn well you don't care about?' you pressed, choice of words were clearly targeted but your composure remained cool. 'What do you mean, you know what happened to Stevi—'

'Your son that you never bothered to report missing? I don't believe you have a right to bring that up, Sir.'

'Now listen here—'

'In the time Rosa had left you behind, you did nothing but fail to bring yourself together, I have a question for you, what were you doing on June 12th, 2007? Why did you come back to Bakersfield prior to that date?' you swiped through the tablet that Tara handed to you, it contained everything Garcia had found including some case files. 'I don't know why you're asking me that, don't you have the life of a boy to save?' He avoided it with such harshness, you only wanted to pry further but somehow it felt like you knew the answer, but the words never fell into place.

'Answer the question Daniel.' Spencer sat back down now jabbing at him as well. 'I just had someone to meet, is that really so important?'

'Why did you need to meet them? Did you coming back here have anything to do with Rosa Cyrus, your ex-wife?' Your slowly tapped at the desk, it was a timed beat. 'I did visit her once but that—'

'Were you aware that a teenager was reported missing around the same time you arrived here? His name was Conrad Miller, he was 16 years old.'

'W-what? I-I don't know anything about that.'

'Really? Because it says in the case files that Rosa was the last person to have seen Conrad, but you knew that didn't you?' He flinched at the response, at this point he wore a sign that screamed suspicious.

It was then that Daniel remained silent, you believed that any word that came out of him at that point would dig his grave deeper.

You stepped out of the room and walked into the room behind the mirror. 'Now he won't speak,' Rossi now stood there with his arms in his pocket.

'We need to find Rosa and Stephen soon, the man is hiding something and Rosa is the key to finding out why.' Rossi took the words right out of your mouth, looks you both knew what he was playing at.

'I think I can help with that, how much can you guys bet on a gut feeling?' You asked the three of them, weary of their answer, 'At this point? I'll take it.' Rossi let out, the two soon followed. 'Rosa will most likely be at the house we used to live in, which is not in this area, I'm hoping that she's keeping Stephen safe,'

'Safe? How come?' Tara asked you, 'Daniel here, came a week prior to Stephen's abduction, not only did he lose his job before coming here, he needed to have a reason to come here,' you deduce.

'His reason being Rosa? But wouldn't that not trigger Rosa?' Looks like you still needed to elaborate your theory, so you continued. 'It did, Rosa having heard that Daniel came here must have caused her protective instinct to kick in, call me crazy, but I think Rosa is keeping Stephen away from Daniel.' you finally let out a sigh, your palms clammed from sweat but if you were right, the little boy you came here for was safe.

'A mother's protective instinct, I'm guessing that something happened 20 years ago that she didn't agree on, which caused her to completely reject this guy, I'll have Garcia send the address of her prior location.' Rossi curtly exited the room, Tara followed along.

Spencer stood before you in silence, you didn't register any movement from him because all your focus was on the man, sitting on the other side of that glass.

'You can go on ahead, Reid, I need to talk to him.' 

'But I can't let you go in alone...'

You huffed, your eyes did what it could but meet his but looking away won't make what you want go away, 'Given the chance, I might punch the daylights out of him—'

'More of a reason for me to stay.' 

Spencer interrupted, you returned with a sharp look in your eyes before you relaxed, 'Let me finish, I would want to give him a piece of my mind but I need to know, I just, he's the only one that has got to know something about Steven, maybe I can finally put him to rest.' 

It was selfish, that's what you called it, asking for just one more clue when you couldn't do anything before. Maybe now that helpless little girl all those years ago, can see her brother off. 'I need to do this, alone...'

'...' 

You stood there, waiting for something, a sound from him in response, anything at all. 'I'll wait here, being short of another agent will not slow down the rest of the team.' He'd finished but his response ticked you, it poked at the idea of a child being monitored by their parents.

'I don't need you watching my every move, Reid.'

'I'm just following orders.'

'Following orders? Do I look like a child to you? Do I need a leash around my neck too? I can handle him, he's one man!' Your voice raised, and you stared up at your fellow colleague with a ray of contempt.

'A man you can't stand being around for long, you sounded just fine in there earlier to anyone that watched, but do you want to know what I saw? I saw that you were holding back, hard enough your hands curled at his answers, your feet apart was enough for me to know that you would have given Emily a reason for you to be dismissed from the case.' He'd stated what was right, but it wasn't right to you, not right now, you don't know when it would be. 'I'll wait here, you can go in alone.'

Your feet put you in place for a good moment, his words tore right through you. He was right, somewhere in your clouded judgement, you understood he was right, but just because you understood doesn't mean you accepted it.

With a second left to pass, you turned from Spencer. All in silence, it was accepted that you had a job to uphold, no matter the personal toll.

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

The dial ups in the station, voices of police officers, movement all around you had become void. Nothing, that's what you heard when you left the interrogation room, you couldn't even hear one Agent calling out to you when you had left. Something gathered, something rotten had formed in your stomach. Your body felt hot, your head on a swivel.

You felt the acid burn at your throat, the half conscious part of you managed to drag your feet to a bathroom stall for you to expel the choux pastry you ingested.

Standing before the mirror now, you washed your mouth, feeling the remnants of the expelled food at your throat.

Nothing felt right to you, not right then, not right now. Having no mind to lose any more time, Reid waited in the conference room as you begrudgingly walked yourself back into it. You said nothing.

You dialed in Emily immediately, hoping she hadn't reached the house yet. 'What have you got for me Cyrus?' 

'I spoke to Daniel.'

'What did he say?'

'He'd been sending frequent messages and calling my mother, they met once, 2007. There was an argument and Conrad had gotten in-between the two of them, it didn't end well.' you informed her, almost mechanically.

'What did he say about Steven?' JJ chimed in.

'Steven was, he said he was never meant to be hurt and Rosa in the mess of things, covered up for him. He told me where...I know where his body is.' Your voice strained, as it got to harsher details.

Nothing came out though, you tried filling in the rest of the details but your voice was overtaken. A pleading look carried over to Spencer and he took over. 'He said that you have to ask where he's sleeping, Rosa's delusion right at this moment is that Steven would come back.'

'Okay, we'll get back to you as soon as we're done here.' The line cut. If you'd carried a boulder on your shoulders, the weight of it might be the same as your conscience. All that was left was you see a family reunited and you get the closure you've been searching for.

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

The team was back, so was the little boy, he was safe. The Turner family could now go home with their son safe and sound in their grasp.

'Nothing beats seeing that.' you stood, satisfied in a way, the others agreed in unison to your words.

'Cyrus, I need to have a word with you.' Emily called you to a secluded corner of the station, but you had no fear built in you, in fact you felt rather empty, exhausted enough to be emotionally drained. 'We found Steven...' she said quietly.

'Where was he?' you met her in the eyes, having nothing left to tie you down. 'Remains were found in the wall of a small bedroom, it looked like he was initially buried but moved there later.' Every word had struck you, the smaller bedroom was your shared one, no doubt. 'Was he, uh, covered?' a crack sounded in your voice.

It took Emily a moment before answering, 'He was...' 

The last bit of remorse. You'd promised yourself for 20 years that he was found. Part of you wanted him to be alive, maybe he ran off and just found a better life or he was on the streets, alive at least. But you knew how far-fetched that sounded, hope was the one thing you were aware that could end you. '...Thank you, can I, um, I want to be alone.'

'Of course, take all the time you need, listen, once this is over I need to speak with you, but only when you're ready, okay?' She patted the side of your shoulders, adhering to your request, she left you alone.

You let out a wavered breath, trying to breathe in and out to calm yourself. What you needed now was to mourn, you knew that but having a hard cry at this moment would slow down everyone.

Not long after, Rosa and Daniel had gotten arrested. You couldn't catch a glimpse at her face, or more accurately, you refused to see the face you'd forgotten. That didn't bother you that much, as a mother she never cared to look out for you, there wasn't any good reason to remain adherent to the details.

Bakersfield PD would have no more reason to have you stay, for now at least but before you could leave it all behind, Steven deserved a proper burial.

The Funeral was small, no relatives, just few friends from school and the BAU were attending, with Chief Marks as well to pay respects.

You stood over the coffin, looking at how small it was, how it all came to an end, all in silence. Quietly you watched as the coffin was buried, soil tossed over it but before it was over, you had to have one last goodbye.

'I did what I promised, took you long enough to come back from playing, huh? You must be tired, rest well, Stevie.' The Carnation held in your hand had been placed on the coffin, a mark of innocence now put to rest. Once it was all over, you stood, not waiting or expecting anything but just, letting the weight gradually let go of you. This was what you needed yet, it didn't feel enough, something remained in you. 

Footsteps were heard behind you, and you took a peak at the intruder before lifting the corners of your mouth to him. 'He was a handful you know, always wanted my attention no matter what, saying that one day he'd make it to the moon just so he could get me some space rock.' Spencer said nothing to your bouts of reminiscence, 'He told me once, "I'm going to be no.1, so watch me!" I thought he was being silly, Dad left right after and we were alone, it was us against the world.' It all came back, then you knew what you hadn't let go, knew what it was that made you feel utterly at loss. 

'Hey, Spencer, you don't have to do this, but, um, I...' You wanted to ask just for a bit, that little comfort that you so desperately pushed away.

Without another word, he lightly turned to face you. Your mind was too caught up on other memories that when you felt his arms wrap around you, you didn't think for that second. All it took was this to let it all go, no longer in silence but in wailing agony.

He didn't need another word, he simply knew. It was like some crazed superpower of his but it's like he's always known.

He couldn't let go.

Tagging:

@treehouse-mouse

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Chapter 4 (Timeline slightly shifted for the storyline)

Masterlist

I tore through the woods, my heartbeat pounding in sync with the rhythm of my feet. The tension from the pack was overwhelming, flooding my senses with their growing frustration. I could feel their stress spike with every passing minute, but no one would tell me what was going on. Seriously? They knew me well enough by now. If something was wrong, my instincts would kick in, driving me to find the source of the problem—and end it.

I was certain it had to do with Bella—everything always came back to her. Don’t get me wrong, I love the girl, but damn, trouble follows her like a shadow. Then again, I guess that’s to be expected when your soulmate is a cold one, whether she realizes it or not.

Suddenly, I caught a whiff of something sickly sweet in the air. A cold one. Alone, no coven. And then, Bella’s scent hit me.

I veered sharply, sprinting toward them. The scents grew stronger with every step, leading me straight to a clearing. Bursting through the trees, I slowed to a halt, staying just out of sight. My heart dropped when I saw an unfamiliar cold one looming over Bella, teeth bared, ready to bite. Instinct took over—I let out a deep, snarling growl that echoed like a warning.

Bella turned, her eyes locking onto mine. Recognition flickered in her gaze—she’d seen me in wolf form before, but only a small glimpse when I chased Paul and Jake into the forest after she slapped paul. The vampire’s low whisper reached my ears as he backed away.

“No way in hell,” he muttered, just as I stepped in front of Bella, growling, my eyes never leaving his crimson ones. I stood tall, daring him to make a move. In the distance, the pack’s howls echoed through the trees—they had caught his scent, too, and they were closing in fast.

The moment he turned to flee, I launched after him. He darted through the forest, using every tree and branch as an obstacle to shake me, but I was faster. I lunged, catching his ankle and slamming him into the ground. He scrambled to his feet, ready for a fight.

He managed to land a few blows, but I shook them off before charging him full force, crashing his body into a nearby boulder. The impact stunned him, giving me just enough time. With a savage bite, I tore his head from his body.

The pack arrived just as I delivered the final blow. Sam shifted back, running to a nearby tree where he’d stashed clothes. Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he quickly set the vampire’s remains ablaze. We all stood in silence, watching as the flames consumed him, turning him to nothing but ceramic-like ash.

Soon enough, the whole pack had shifted back to human form, now clothed and gathered around the smoldering ashes—everyone except me. I stayed in wolf form, partly because I didn’t have clothes stashed nearby, but mostly because I needed to check on Bella. I needed answers.

If the pack wasn’t going to tell me what was going on, I’d get the truth from the source herself.

I started to trot away, but Paul quickly caught up, nearly jogging to keep pace with me. "Where are you going?" he asked, his voice tight with curiosity.

I opened the mindlink to him. Off to check on Bella.

He sighed, almost resigned. "Alright, I know I can't talk you out of that. But when you're done..." He hesitated for a moment, looking a little nervous as he scratched the back of his head. "Would you maybe want to go on another date?"

I stopped in my tracks, turning my head sharply to look at him. His goofy smile gave away his nerves, but I could see the hope in his eyes.

I stepped closer, pressing my head against his side in a gentle, affectionate nudge. ‘Yes, Paul. Of course, I’d love to.’

His hand slid through my fur in a loving gesture before I nodded and turned, racing off toward Bella’s house.

When I arrived at Bella's house, I paused, sniffing the air to gauge who was inside. Bella’s scent was there, along with Edward’s. I focused my thoughts, pushing them outward, hoping to catch Edward’s attention. His ability to read minds never worked on me when I blocked him out, much like I did with the pack. It had taken days of practice, but now it was second nature. Opening my mind was more of a struggle than shutting it off.

I heard movement inside before Bella and Edward stepped out to meet me. Bella’s eyes met mine, a glint of recognition sparking in her expression.

“Is that you, Y/N?” she asked. I nodded, relieved that she recognized me. I turned my gaze to Edward, pushing my question toward him. ‘What’s going on?’ “The pack hasn’t told you yet?” Edward asked, tilting his head slightly. I shook mine in response.

“What?” Bella looked between us, confusion clouding her features. “The pack hasn’t told her about Victoria,” Edward explained, his voice calm yet serious.

Bella’s eyes widened in shock, clearly as confused as I felt. Edward sighed and turned back to me. “I’m not sure why the pack hasn’t mentioned it, but I think it’s important that you know. You could be a valuable ally to us.”

He paused, then added, “Before I continue, I wanted to thank you—for trying to save Bella before and again today. You may not know this, but even before you were pulled into this supernatural world, my family and I had grown quite fond of you. Even though you… don’t exactly smell great to us anymore, you're still one of our most trusted allies. How you treated Alice that day sealed it for us.”

I gave a small wolfish grin and nodded. ‘You’re all important to Bella, and she’s important to me. Protecting her means protecting you, too. Legends or not, I trust you all with her safety.’

Edward translated my thoughts to Bella, who smiled softly. Then he turned back to me, his expression growing serious again.

“With that said, the problem we’re facing is Victoria. She’s a red-haired vampire, and last year, when Bella was attacked, we killed her mate. Now she’s out for revenge. She’s been stalking Bella for a while, but lately, she’s been quiet. We believe she’s planning something, and this time, she may have help.”

As Edward finished, I took a moment to absorb the weight of his words. A looming threat, and this time, it wasn’t just Bella who would be in danger. It was all of us.

‘Thank you for telling me. If anything changes, let me know right away. No one’s getting to Bella on my watch.’ Edward nodded in appreciation, offering a quiet, “Thank you.”

Before I could leave, Bella spoke up. “While you're here, Y/N, I wanted to invite you to my graduation party. I know you might have your own plans, but if you’re free, I’d love for you to join.”

I nodded, turning to Edward to translate for me. “She says she’s not planning her own party, so she’d love to attend yours,” Edward relayed with a small smile. Bella beamed. “Great! I’ll make sure you get a physical invite soon.”

With that settled, I gave my goodbyes, nodding to them both before heading back through the trees toward home.

After just a few minutes, I transformed back into my human form, quickly dressing and making my way to the open area where my house stood. As I approached the porch, I spotted Paul sitting there, his face lighting up into a wide smile when he saw me. I couldn’t help but return his grin as I jogged up to him. “Let me just grab some shoes and check on my dad, then we can take my truck if you’d like?”

With a nod, he replied, “I get to drive, then.” I giggled and tossed him my keys from inside the door. “As always, Paul.” As he turned to start the truck, I headed inside to find my shoes.

Passing through the living room, I noticed Sue lounging on the couch, absorbed in one of her cheesy rom-coms. The delicious aroma of whatever she was cooking or baking wafted through the air, a comforting reminder of the dinner she was preparing for my father and herself. I walked up the ramp, which covered an old set of short stairs leading to the hallway at the back of the house.

Once in my room, I quickly found my sneakers and some socks. I slipped them on and glanced in the mirror to fix my hair. It had been cut short after shifting, but it still tangled and got messy. I brushed it out before heading off to find my father in his office.

As I entered my father's office, the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the musty aroma of old books, wrapping me in a sense of comfort. He was hunched over his desk, deep in thought, scribbling notes for his latest project. The sight of him instantly warmed my heart. "Hey, Dad," I called softly, leaning against the doorframe.

He looked up, his face breaking into a smile that reached his eyes. "There’s my favorite girl! How was your run? Did you catch any squirrels?" he teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

I rolled my eyes, stepping into the room. "Very funny. You know I’m more graceful than that," I replied, crossing my arms with a mock pout. "But, um, I need to talk to you about something important."

His playful demeanor shifted, curiosity replacing it. "What’s on your mind, sweetheart?"

Taking a deep breath, I hesitated, my stomach knotting with anxiety. "I just found out about a rogue vampire lurking nearby. It seems to be causing trouble, and I… I don't want to take any chances." I locked my gaze on him, urgency creeping into my voice. "Dad, with everything you do as the tribe historian—protecting our legends and keeping track of our history—you’re important to us. I need you to stay safe."

His expression changed, concern etching itself into his features. "A rogue vampire? Why didn’t I hear about this sooner? Do you know who it is?"

"I don’t know yet, but the pack is on high alert," I replied, trying to steady my voice. "That’s why I’m asking you to stay inside more often. I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you, especially when you’re the one safeguarding our stories and our future."

He studied me for a moment, his eyes softening as he took in my worry. "I appreciate you looking out for me, and I understand your concern. But you know I can’t ignore the responsibility of preserving our history, especially with new threats emerging."

"I get that, but please promise me you’ll be careful," I insisted, my heart racing. “I need you here, Dad. You’re not just a historian; you’re my father. We’re in this together, and I want you safe.”

He sighed, a small smile breaking through the seriousness. "You’re right, my little wolf. I’ll be more cautious. For you."

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, relief washing over me. "Thank you, Dad. That’s all I ask. I want us both to be here for whatever comes next."

"Always," he said, reaching out to pull me into a warm hug. "Now, how about we grab some dinner? I think Sue made enough to feed an army."

“Wish I could but Paul and I are going on a last second date night!" I said excitedly. My father smiled and bid me a goodbye as I left the house. 

Here’s a revised version of the scene to improve flow and clarity:

Out front, I hurried over and hopped into the truck. Paul grumbled, realizing too late that he'd missed the chance to open the door for me. I couldn’t help but smile, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "So, what do you have planned for tonight?" I asked, as he quickly shifted the truck into reverse, backing up before spinning it around to head out.

We drove in comfortable silence until we reached the main road, the familiar trees of Forks passing by in a blur. Finally, Paul spoke up, his voice thoughtful. "I was thinking we could grab some dinner, maybe pick up a few things for a craft you like, and then head to the cliff by the beach. We could eat, relax, and work on something together."

A smile tugged at my lips. The memory of last week surfaced in my mind, when we had spent the afternoon cuddled up in my room. Paul had spotted my desk, cluttered with the remnants of old crafts—bracelets, paintings, and half-finished projects. It was a hobby I hadn’t indulged in for a while, a simple joy I kept to myself, creating little things for others or just for fun. He had been so curious, asking me about each piece, and we’d ended up talking about them all for hours.

The thought of him remembering that moment now filled me with warmth. "That sounds perfect," I said softly, glancing over at him. Paul always had a way of making things special, of knowing exactly what would bring me peace.

It didn’t take long for us to arrive at the crafting store in town. Before I even had a chance to unbuckle, Paul was already shutting off the truck and rushing to my side. I couldn’t help but laugh as he hurried to open the door for me, offering his hand to help me out. "Such a gentleman," I teased, squeezing his hand as he closed the door and locked the truck.

Grinning, I led him inside, my fingers intertwined with his. As soon as we stepped through the door, the soft, familiar scent of craft supplies enveloped me—the earthy smell of wooden beads, the subtle tang of leather strips, and the faint sweetness of paints and glue. I looked around, taking it all in. The colors, textures, and materials surrounded us, sparking memories of afternoons spent lost in creativity.

With every breath, I could feel a sense of ease and comfort washing over me, the stress and tension from the day melting away. This was my sanctuary, and having Paul here with me made it even better.

We spent the next few minutes browsing the aisles, picking out supplies to make matching bracelets. I also grabbed a few extra things for bracelets I wanted to make for some friends. As we headed to the register, I made sure to separate my extra items from the supplies we picked out for our date. But just as I started to do that, Paul stopped me, gently pushing everything back together.

"Hey, I’m paying for my stuff too, Lahote," I said, narrowing my eyes playfully.

Paul just smirked, stepping in front of me and blocking the register with his broad frame. "Yeah, no," he muttered, ignoring my protests as he quickly paid for everything before I had a chance to stop him.

I stared at him, surprised, as he turned around, holding the bag full of supplies with a smug grin. I let out a dramatic sigh, rolling my eyes as I reached to grab the bag, but he pulled it away at the last second.

“Nope," he said, shaking his head with a teasing smile. "If I can’t treat you to fancy dinners like I want, the least you can do is let me pay for everything and carry your things."

I shook my head, exasperated but smiling. “You are not paying for everything, Paul. I’m covering dinner next, and that’s final.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. "You can try," he said with a smirk, "but I won’t let you. No matter what."

Once again, Paul hurried to open the door for me, helping me in before shutting it with a playful smirk. He then opened the back door to place our craft supplies behind me before hopping into the driver’s seat and heading to a cozy burger joint. Of course, he wouldn’t let me pay for the meal, no matter how hard I tried.

Finally, we arrived at the cliff. Paul backed the truck up so we could sit on the bed while crafting, eating, and enjoying the sunset. Before Paul could make it to my side, I jumped out of the truck and made a quick grab for the bags. "Hey!" Paul called, his voice laced with surprise as he sped over, trying to catch up.

I giggled, shutting the door behind me and taking off in a playful sprint, the bags in my hands. "Too slow!" I teased, glancing back to see him grinning as he chased after me, the sunset painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

It didn’t take long for him to catch up, his strong arms wrapping around me as he lifted me off my feet effortlessly, laughing. I squealed, my feet kicking in the air as I tried to wriggle free.

“Gotcha!” he teased, his laughter mixing with mine as he spun me around for a moment before setting me back down, still holding me close.

I pouted playfully. “Not fair! You have way too much of an advantage.”

Paul grinned, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “What can I say? I’m a man on a mission." He gently grabbed the bags from my hands. "Now, let’s get to our crafts before the sun sets."

I nodded, and we walked back to the truck, Paul quickly taking the bags from me again with a smirk. We sat down on the tailgate, the soft breeze carrying the scent of the ocean up from the cliffs. Paul began to set up our makeshift picnic, laying out the burgers and fries, while I organized the supplies for our matching bracelets.

The simplicity of the moment felt perfect—the calm of the ocean, the warmth of the setting sun, and the easy silence between us as we got everything ready. I glanced over at Paul, who was focused on arranging our meal, and a smile tugged at my lips.

"You're really going all out for this date, huh?" I teased, threading a leather strip through one of the beads.

He looked up, his eyes twinkling. "Only the best for you."

We started eating, the warm burgers and crispy fries the perfect complement to the cool breeze coming off the ocean. The sky was painted with a breathtaking array of colors—fiery oranges blending into soft pinks and purples, the sun slowly sinking behind the horizon. We sat quietly for a while, enjoying the view and the peacefulness of the moment.

“This is perfect,” I murmured between bites, glancing over at Paul. He nodded in agreement, his mouth full of fries, giving me a lopsided grin.

Once we finished eating, I pulled the craft supplies toward us, sorting through the leather strips and beads. "Ready to get started?" I asked, pulling out two small wolf charms—one for each of our bracelets.

Paul raised an eyebrow, already looking a bit unsure. "I dunno, I’m not exactly a bracelet-making expert," he admitted, scratching the back of his head.

I laughed, shaking my head. "It’s not that hard. I’ll walk you through it." I handed him a strip of leather and a few beads, trying not to laugh at the overly serious expression he was wearing. "First, you thread the beads onto the leather like this," I said, demonstrating with my own bracelet.

He copied me, but it quickly became clear that Paul’s hands weren’t made for delicate work. His fingers fumbled as he tried to thread a bead onto the strip, and after a few failed attempts, he dropped one of the beads into his lap with a frustrated groan.

I couldn’t help but giggle. "You're supposed to be a tough guy, and you're losing to a bead?"

He shot me a mock glare, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. "Hey, these things are tiny! My hands weren’t built for this kind of precision."

"Here, let me help." I slid closer, taking his hand in mine and guiding the leather strip through the bead. "See? Easy. You just have to be patient."

He watched me carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Okay, okay, I think I got it." He tried again, this time with a little more success. "Maybe," he added, half-laughing.

As we worked, the wolf charms jingled softly in our hands, adding a little extra significance to the bracelets. Despite Paul’s clumsy attempts, he was putting his heart into it, and that made it even more special. I glanced over at him as he struggled to tie the final knot.

"How’s it coming?" I asked, smiling.

"Uh... it’s... definitely a bracelet," he said, holding up his finished piece, which was slightly lopsided and uneven, but unmistakably heartfelt.

I burst out laughing. "It's perfect," I said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Just like you."

Paul grinned, a little sheepish, and we settled back to watch the last of the sunset, our matching wolf bracelets now tied securely on our wrists.

[ourtearsofrain]

Paper Rings (D.R.W/S.F.K)

Summary: When Danny wants to propose to Sam, he turns to his brothers for help, wanting the evening to be perfect.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Genre: fluff, almost hurt/comfort, other than that no clue, way too long to be drabble but there’s no smut or angst or anything

Word Count: 6.5 k

Warnings: language? But what’s new with them, anxiety from worrying about how the proposal will go.

A/N: I would highly recommend reading Save a Horse and Ride a Cowboy as well as their previous fics, as this is a continuation of their stories within this Universe.

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4:38 pm

Those fucking bastards. Never on time a goddamn day in their lives. Danny sits in the living room of his and Sam’s apartment, his heart hammering, fingers twisting together in his lap and leg bouncing as the anxious knot in his stomach tightens as the minutes tick by. They were supposed to get here 38 fucking minutes ago. Where the fuck are they?

He checks his phone. Nothing. A minute later he checks again. Nothing. Fuck. After what feels like an eternity, a loud knock at his door yanks him from his frustrations, and he all but runs across the room to answer it. Jake and Josh stand at the center of the group, caught up in a heated, but hopefully lighthearted argument, with their partners sharing knowing exasperated looks over the twins’ heads.

Danny’s too frustrated to even care about possibly interrupting whatever argument they were having, cutting them off with a sharp, “You’re late.” He steps to the side as the group walks in, the twins talking over each other with various excuses as their boyfriends simply apologize and express that they tried to get them out of the house on time. “It’s whatever, I guess. At least you’re here now.” Danny sighs as he turns, walking away from them towards the living room and hoping they will follow. They do, and each pair takes a seat on the various chairs and couches occupying the space as Danny paces nervously across the room.

Austin is the first one to point out the nervous energy radiating from his friend, speaking over the noise of Jake and Josh trying to finish their argument from before. “Daniel, you alright? What’s goin’ on? And where’s Sam?” The twins promptly end their side argument as they also take in the state of their friend as well as the lack of their brother, causing their eyebrows to crease in unison.

“Yeah, why’d you ask us to come over? And why isn’t Sam here.” Josh questions.

Danny pauses his movements, coming to a stop in front of the other boys. His hands twist and stretch the hair tie around his wrist, needing to find some outlet for his anxiety. “He’s with Ronnie, she wouldn’t tell me what excuse she used to get him there, but I won’t question it since its working.”

It’s now Jake’s turn to question Danny. “Ok, cut to the chase. What did you need to talk to us about without Sam being present? You’re starting to make me worry.”

“I-” Danny starts, his nerves cutting him off and causing him to take a deep breath before continuing. “I need your guys’ help.”

Josh gasps dramatically, his hand flying to his heart in surprise. “I knew it!”

Danny feels like he’s been punched in the gut, his anxieties growing louder and louder in his head. If Josh figured it out so fast, Sammy could have too. Shit what if he knows and this was all for nothing.

Luckily for him, Josh continues, never missing the opportunity to make a shitty joke that often left the rest of them rolling their eyes. “You got him pregnant, didn’t you? What did I tell you two crazy kids about wrapping it before tapping it.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment before continuing, “Are you guys keeping it?” Josh is too focused on Danny (and too proud of his joke) to see Jake launching a pillow at him from the opposite end of the couch until it hits him hard on the side of his head.

“What the fuck man??” He yells as Austin wordlessly takes the pillow from him to prevent any retaliation.

“Could you be serious for one fucking second, Joshua? I don’t know about you, but I would love to hear what Danny has to say.”

Josh’s head drops slightly, now recognizing this may not be the time or place for his jokes depending on the conversation at hand. “You’re right, Jake. I’m sorry Danny.”

Danny removes his hand from where it had been placed on his temple in an attempt to slowly massage the stress and tension from his head. “It’s fine. Anyways, I need your help.” All four boys sit in tense silence as they wait for the other shoe to drop, each of them curious and worried about what had Danny so worked up like this.

“I’m going to propose to Sam.” The room is silent for a few seconds as they process what Danny had just said. Eventually, Josh shoots out of his seat, jumping up and down as he whoops in celebration.

“THAT’S FUCKING FANTASTIC OH MY GOD FINALLY!” He tackles the taller man in a massive hug, almost tipping the pair over as Danny stumbles to regain his balance before looking over to Jake to see him slowly standing from the couch with a wide grin on his face. When Josh finally let’s go of Danny, it’s Jake’s turn to embrace the other man, still enthusiastic but not enough to almost send them to the floor as Josh had.

“I’m so fucking happy for you, Danny. Couldn’t ask for a better man to take our annoying kid brother off our hands. I thought we were gonna be stuck with him forever.”

Danny lets out a deep breath as he laughs, beyond relieved at the reactions he recieved from the twins. After them, Austin and Sebastian take their turns congratulating him, each word of affirmation lifting a small weight off Danny’s shoulders until the anxiety he had previously felt is almost fully gone.

“So, what do you need our help with, hun?” Sebastian questions, voicing what the others had been thinking.

“Ok so, I want to propose to him at Bradley’s, in the spot we had our first kiss. But I want to be alone with him when I do it, but I don’t want him to suspect anything leading up to that.” Danny sighs, the frustrations formerly plaguing his mind resurfacing as he attempts to explain what little semblance of a “plan” he had. “I don’t know, that’s all I got. Do you guys have any ideas of how I could pull that off?”

A broad grin breaks out on Sebastian’s face, having already put together an entire evening for him and Sam in mere seconds in his head. “Oh, I got the perfect idea, kid.”

~

One week later

“Alright people, settle the fuck down y’all!” Sebastian shouts over the many loud side conversations occurring between all the drag performers as they wait for their monthly meeting to begin. They do as he asks, wrapping up their various conversations and turning their attention to Sebastian.

“Thank you. Imma keep this short and sweet and to the point, now. As y’all know, our usual club we perform at is undergoing renovations, so next month’s show is gonna be at Bradley’s Honkey Tonk.” A few excited whispers pass through the crowd, the performers knowing that they always got the most tips when they had shows there. “Our next, and last, order of business is the theme. Now the votes are in from y’all, and the theme with the most votes was Money, Money, Money. Now, I’ve already called that ABBA song but when y’all are ready to claim yours, put your name and song down in the group chat so I can start organizin’ the set.”

He looks at the small crowd, eyeing them to see if he could sense any unspoken queries. “If y’all aint got any questions, y’all’re free to leave.” Many chairs skid across the floor as they pull their phones out, already typing out the songs they wanted in the group chat and excitedly discussing group numbers and outfits with each other as each small group slowly made their way towards the exit.

Josh elbows Sam in the side in his haste to claim his song, frantically typing his message into the chat and hitting send with a satisfied grin, seeing that no one else had taken his song choice yet. He slips his phone back into his pocket before turning towards Sam. “Ready to go?”

His question snaps Sam out of his thoughts. “Oh- uh actually I wanted to talk to Sebastian about my song really quick. Don’t wait up, I’m meeting Danny down the street for lunch so I can just walk there.”

“Alright, have fun.” Josh says with a smile, turning and making his way towards the door with the rest of the crowd.

Sam approaches Sebastian, quietly waiting as he begins scribbling down who had taken what song so far in his notebook. He finishes, letting out a deep sigh before finally looking up. “Oh- hey, kid! Didn’t see ya there. What’s up?”

“I uh-” He starts, nerves getting the best of him as he looks down, his fingers picking at his cuticles as he gathers his courage. “I need help. Picking a song and… and with something else.”

A look of concern passes over Sebastian’s face, not used to seeing the usually confident Sam so sheepish. “Of course, I gotchu Sam. What’s up?”

“I- I want to propose to Danny. After the show, considering it’s where we had our first kiss. I just, I don’t really know how to do it. And I want to do a song that sort of hints at it, but not so much so that he knows it’s happening before I actually do it. And my brothers can’t know, I don’t want them to accidentally spoil the surprise.” He looks at Sebastian hopefully, feeling vulnerable and anxious as he asks this of him. “Do you think… do you think you can help me?”

Sebastian’s face splits open in a wide smile as he makes his way towards Sam, pulling him into a tight hug before he responds. “Of course, I got the perfect idea, kid.”

~

Three weeks later, Danny finds himself back at Bradley’s Honkey Tonk, seated next to Jake and Austin as they wait for the show to start. Jake’s voice across the bar table snaps him out of his anxious daze, and Danny looks over to see a concerned look painted across Jake’s features. “Hey man, you alright? You look a little pale.”

Danny takes a deep breath, having to remind himself to breathe as his nerves send him spiraling. He nods slightly before reaching for his glass of water and taking a large gulp of it. “Yeah, just nervous.”

He brings his hand to the pocket of his black jeans, checking to make sure the box holding Sam’s ring was still there for the 15th time that night. The knots in his stomach slightly loosen when he feels the outline of the box safe and snug within the fabric. As much as Danny was worrying about Sam’s reaction, he knew deep down he would love the ring; the second he had seen it, he knew it was so perfectly fitting for Sam. It had pansies engraved around the band, Sam’s favorite flower (and “coincidentally”, Danny’s star sign flower), the detailing dark black against the shine of the white gold.

“Everythin’ll work out just fine, Daniel. Your plan’s solid as it gets, and I’ll be damned if Sam says no to you." Austin brings his hand to Danny’s shoulder, offering him a small pat of encouragement before Jake joins in on relieving his worries.

“Exactly, we all know the plan, everything will work out. And I’ve known Sam for his entire life, I can’t think of one reason he would say no to you.” Danny offers a small smile at both boys, his nerves slowly dissipating from their words of encouragement. A distraction from any remaining nerves is provided when Sirena takes the small stage, mic in hand, and the crowd begins to quiet their side conversations in anticipation.

“How’re we feelin’ out there tonight?” She enthusiastically questions into the mic. She’s met with a loud roar of cheers and applause, as always joined by a few stray wolf whistles. She grins at the crowd’s obvious excitement, giving them a moment before continuing. “Fantastic! Just what I like to hear. I am your host tonight, Sirena de Lune, thank y’all for comin’ out tonight! And let’s make sure to give a big thank you to Bradley’s for hostin’ us tonight!”

The crowd erupts once more in appreciation of the owners allowing them to use their space for the night. “Now before we start our performances off for the night, I just have two things to say. First, consent is fucking sexy! If you don’t want extra attention or interaction from a performer, just throw your arms up into an ‘X’ and they’ll respect that. Consent also goes two ways, so make sure to not touch a performer without them initiatin’ that interaction. Lastly, tip your motherfuckin’ performers! Especially for tonight cause our theme is ‘Money, Money, Money’, so I better see some tips in the air for our amazing artists tonight! With that, I’ll introduce you to our first performer of the night, give it up for Elle Fernanda!”

The crowd nearly drowns out the upbeat intro of Material Girl with their applause as Josh sashays towards the stage. With his already unruly hair teased and donning bright pink lipstick, he looks like he walked straight out of the 80’s. Austin’s eyes linger for a moment on the short hem of his sequined, deep pink bodycon dress before they trail down his legs clad in fishnets, the stage lights catching on the small rhinestones scattered across the fabric, and down to his platform glittery heels, not once tripping over the various cords and steps in his journey towards the stage. His arms, neck, and ears are weighed down under as many pieces of flashy jewelry as he could fit, sending small beams of rainbow light around the room.

Jake snorts from his place beside him. “He looks like a fucking disco ball.” Both Danny and Austin smile at his comment, keeping their eyes on the performer as he teases the audience with the instrumental intro. He drops low down into a squat, grabbing more bedazzled bracelets from the stage floor before standing slowly, pushing his ass out towards the crowd. Finally, he turns around to face the audience as the first verse starts.

“Some boys kiss me,

Some boys hug me,

I think they’re ok.

If they don’t give me proper credit,

I just walk away.”

He makes his way off the stage, taking careful steps down so as not to trip in his heels. He motions along with the song, dropping low and bringing his hands together as if in prayer.

“They can beg and they can plead,

But they can’t see the light (that’s right).

‘Cause the boy with cold hard cash

Is always Mister Right.”

Working his way through the crowd slowly, he turns as he snatches tips from outreached hands, lip syncing in practiced perfection. He makes his way towards Austin, ignoring his tip and pulling him off his seat when he reaches him, placing his pink gloved hands on his hips as he still securely holds his fists full of bills.

“Some boys romance,

Some boys slow dance.”

Josh sways them both to the beat, once again teasing the crowd (and mostly Austin) by intentionally over-exaggerating his hip movements and pushing his ass out.

“That’s alright with me.

If they can’t raise my interest then I

Have to let them be.”

With that, Josh taps the tip of Austin’s nose with his finger, offering a wink before snatching his tip and turning to make his way back to the stage. Austin takes his seat again with a lovesick grin on his face as he watches his boyfriend weave through the crowd.

“Some boys try and some boys lie

But I don’t let them play.”

Josh reaches the stage, taking a large step onto it and turning to face the crowd as he raises his hands above his head.

“Only boys that save their pennies

Make my rainy day.”

He throws his tips in the air, and they flutter down around him as if they were droplets of rain. For the rest of the song, Josh continues spinning his way through the crowd, enthusiastically interacting with every patron he came upon whether they tipped him or not. As the song comes towards its end, he finds himself back on stage, gesturing dramatically as he uses his theater experience (and personal experience with Austin) to flash his biggest doe eyes flirtatiously at the crowd as a more “calm” part of the song plays.

“A material, a material, a material, a material world.”

His energetic energy is back as just quick as he had put it on to play up that part as he sways his body on stage, dropping down to a squat sideways from the crowd as the last few beats of the song play. He suddenly tips back, falling on his back dramatically and cocking one leg in the air as his arms sprawl around his head, perfectly timed with the last beat of the song.

The crowd erupts, their applause deafening with a few stray wolf whistles (most of which belonging to Jake and Austin) as Josh stands, blowing kisses to the crowd before exiting the stage, leaving the stagehands to quickly retrieve his fallen tips for him.

“Thank you, Elle, for that sensual performance.” Sirena says into the mic with a wink. She introduces the next few drag performers, one after the other, one of them being Shimmer performing to Rich Girl. Sparrow takes the stage after Shimmer’s tips have been collected, and all three boys seated at their table immediately know that it’s Sirena’s turn next. After a brief introduction, Sparrow jumps off stage as the intro to Sirena’s song starts.

Donning a different outfit than she had at the beginning of the show, Jake recognizes it instantly, not even needing to listen to the intro to know what performance she was about to give. Wearing simple converse, black overalls over a flowy light blue blouse, a light brown wavy wig with the front strands tied at the back of her head, and minimal makeup (for a drag queen, of course), she’s instantly recognizable as Donna from Mamma Mia!

Her face is set in serious frustration as Maryl Streep’s voice begins singing over the speakers.

“I work all night, I work all day

To pay the bills I have to pay.

Ain’t it sad?

And still there never seems to be a single penny left for me,

That’s too bad.”

Her eyes lock on Jake as she steps off stage, slowly singing her way through the song as she weaves through the crowd towards him.

“In my dreams I have a plan:

If I got me a wealthy man,”

Her left hand comes up to his face as she slowly trails the back of it down his left cheek. She turns, her back leaning against him and keeping her hand on the side of his face, applying the slightest amount of pressure to get him to turn his head towards her.

“I wouldn’t have to work at all, I’d fool around and have a ball…”

Just as Jake’s lips are about to brush her own, she slips the tip from his hand and struts away from him, continuing her play of frustration to fully embody the show. She continues this energy throughout the performance, heavily interacting with the crowd as she collects handfuls upon handfuls of tips. When the song ends, the stage lights cut out on beat, sending her into darkness before they flash on again and an appreciative smile replaces the scowl she had donned for the performance. Sparrow hands her the mic again as the crowd applauds her, impressed at how accurate her act had been.

Once again, she introduces the next few performers; names that Jake, Danny, and Austin had grown familiar with from their partners’ involvements with the drag community. Faebelle and Sparrow give an animated duo rendition of Partners in Crime until, at last, she breaks the sad news of the show’s imminent end.

“Now I hate to remind y’all, but the night must come to an end at one point or another. Please give a warm welcome to our last performer of the night, Callie Bungah!” A familiar pop-ey intro begins and Jake instantly knows that Sebastian had helped Sam pick his song. He struts up onto the stage with a bounce in his step as he waits for his cue to sing.

Danny’s first though is: oh my god he looks so cute, when he takes in the image of Sam, wearing a wavy blond wig with the front strands dyed blue, a white turtleneck tank top, a long, flowy, baby blue skirt, and light pink go go boots decorated with red hearts.

“The moon is high

Like your friends were the night that we first met.”

He points to Jake and then Josh, watching his performance from the standing group of kings and queens in the corner, drawing a laugh from both.

“Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet.

Now I’ve read all of the books beside your bed.”

Sam keeps his eyes on Danny for most of the performance, yet intentionally avoids the area around him until a little over a minute is left in the song. The song calms down just as he reaches him, all instruments except the piano and guitar playing softly in the background.

Suddenly he’s reaching into the pocket of his skirt, pulling out a small piece of paper in the shape of a ring, carefully folded to have an origami heart. He holds it out towards him, lip syncing to the words as Danny extends his hand with a smile, allowing Sam to slip it onto his right ring finger.

“I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings.

Uh huh, that’s right.”

Despite his cool outwards appearance and the grin gracing his features, Danny’s mind is racing in worry. Shit. Does Sam know? Did one of the twins tell him? They would never… would they? His internal panic is silenced momentarily by the lovestruck look on Sam’s face, his hand coming up to hold the side of the other man’s face, who brings his own hand up to rest on it.

“You’re the one I want.

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.

Uh huh.

Darling, you’re the one I want.”

He offers one last small smile to the other man before turning to make his way back to the stage, grabbing the last of the tips from outstretched hands on his way. As the song begins to fade out, he walks towards the group of other performers, weaving through them and “hiding” behind a couple as he lip syncs with his head next to theirs, before he exits the room through the performers door as the song finally fades to silence.

The quiet is short lived as the crowd quickly shows the last performance a round of applause for the night. Sirena takes the stage once more, calling up each performer in order, for one last show of support to each artist. The crowd cheers equally as loud for each, and each time one of their partners is brought up, Jake, Danny, and Austin let out shrill wolf whistles and whoops.

“Once again, thank y’all for comin’ out to support us tonight. Big thank you to our tech crew and to Bradley for lettin’ us hijack his bar for the night! We’ll see y’all at the next show!”

Jake, Danny, and Austin patiently wait for their partners to finish taking pictures with the other patrons before they make their way towards them, the group of performers slowly dispersing back to their green room to get undressed for the night. By the time they reach the stage, there’s only a few patrons left in the building as groups file out the door and into the night. Josh is the first to spot them from his spot on the edge of the stage as Sebastian and Sam are caught up in a quiet conversation to the side. “So, what’d you guys think?”

Austin wraps his arms around the other man’s waist, lifting him up and spinning him a few times before gently placing him back on his feet next to him. He stoops to plant a kiss to his lips before answering. “Fuckin’ amazing, darlin’. You are drop dead gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

Josh laughs, lightly placing his hand on Austin’s chest as he looks up at him. “Mmmm you flatter me. But thank you, love.”

Drawn to the show Austin and Josh had just put on, Sebastian and Sam make their way towards the group smiling. “You trying to turn Sammy boy into a Swiftie, Seb?” Jake says with a grin.

“Maybe, maybe. He put on a damn good show though, don’t ya think, Danny?” At his name, Danny’s trance is broken, his eyes having been glued on Sam since his performance began and he turns to look between Sebastian and Sam.

“Mhm, you all did fantastic. As usual of course. Love the pockets, baby.” Sam’s face lights up at the observation, immediately sticking his hands into the pockets of his skirt and slightly turning back and forth to flare it as he looked down happily.

“Thank you, Daniel. I love them too. All skirts should have pockets in my opinion.”

“I’ll second that!” Sebastian interjects with a laugh. “Alright, I don’t know bout y’all but I’m dyin’ do get outta this wig so imma go change. Y’all comin’?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice; these heels are killing me.” Josh says as he tentatively transfers his weight between each foot.

Sam grimaces in agreement. “Same here.”

“We’ll be here waitin’ for y’all when you’re done.” Austin says as the other three file back towards the green room. The remaining boys make their way towards a table, taking their seats as they wait for their boyfriends. Both Austin and Jake notice Danny’s anxiety creeping up on him, his leg bouncing wildly under the table as he fiddled with the paper ring still on his finger. “You alright, Daniel?”

His gaze shoots up to Austin, finding a slightly concerned look on his face. “Mhm, yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just nervous. Do you guys… do you guys think he knows? That I’m going to propose. With the song he picked and all it’s just… too much of a coincidence.”

Jake shakes his head, offering a small smile to Danny. “I know Sam, and I know Seb. Sam definitely didn’t even know where to start for a song choice and Sebastian gave him an idea. That’s like, one of his favorite songs. I swear I hear it at least once a week.” He finishes with a laugh.

Danny lets out a deep breath, slightly relieved from the information. “Ok, yeah, ok. He doesn’t know, it’s just a coincidence that will be something to laugh at later.”

Once again, Jake pats his shoulder in encouragement. “Exactly. Just breathe, don’t think about it too much. And I mean, it’s Sam we’re talking about. He’s so in love with you, I think he’d say yes even if you passed out with the ring in your fingers. Its honestly gross sometimes.” This brings a smile to Danny’s face, easing the tension in his mind and body as he realizes what Jake said was probably true. They sit in silence for the rest of the wait, content with listening to the music playing quietly over the speakers.

Just as planned with Sebastian and Josh, Sam is the first to come back out. Now wearing loose black jeans, comfortable slip ons, and a sweater he definitely stole from Danny, he makes his way towards the group and his boyfriend stands to meet him. Sam drops his bag on the floor near his feet, immediately following their after-performance routine of Sam melting into Danny’s arms as the taller man gently rubs his back. Austin and Jake share a knowing look that goes unseen by both Sam and Danny, and Jake is the first to speak, clearing his throat before standing.

“Seb just texted me that he needs help with some bags so, I’m gonna go do that.” Austin follows suit, the pair already beginning to make their way towards the performer’s door.

“And imma go make sure Josh can still walk, those heels were tall as hell and I don’t need him stumblin’ around and possibly hurting himself.” Austin jokes.

“Probably for the best, see you guys later.” Sam mumbles, his face tucked into Danny’s neck. They leave the room without another word, both men shooting Danny a smile and thumbs up behind Sam’s back before disappearing in search of their boyfriends. The pair stand in comfortable silence for a few minutes before a song both were very familiar with begins playing. Sam removes his face from Danny’s skin, looking up at him with a small smile.

Danny returns it, cocking an eyebrow at him in question. “Wanna dance? It is our song after all.”

“Lead the way, Daniel. Just nothing too crazy, my feet sill hurt.”

Danny laughs, beginning to lead Sam towards an empty spot between tables, intentionally finding the place where they first danced together to the song so long before. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t sweep you off your feet this time.” Sam’s hands find their way to Danny’s back, beginning to slowly sway along to the song as his head comes to a rest on his shoulder. Danny brings his head down to rest against Sam’s as he closes his eyes and tries to breathe through his nerves.

“Any place is better,

Starting from zero, we got nothing to lose.

Maybe we’ll make something,

Me, myself, I got nothing to prove.”

They slowly dance through the song in silence, with Danny hoping the other man can’t feel his racing heartbeat from where their chests met.

“And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder.

And I, I, I had a feeling that I belonged.

I, I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone.

You got a fast car,

Is it fast enough, so you can fly away?

You still gotta make a decision,

Leave tonight, or live and die this way.”

The song comes to an end, and the pair momentarily break away from each other, just enough for Sam to look up at Danny while still being wrapped in his warm embrace. He looks around for a moment, taking in his surroundings before looking back up to see Danny watching him with so much love behind his eyes that it almost knocked the wind out of him. “Is this?” He starts. “Is this where we first danced to that song?”

Danny grins down at Sam, his heart soaring that he also remembered where exactly they first danced with each other. “Mhm, it is.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Wagner, I’d think you had something big planned.” Sam half-jokes.

“Maybe I do, Kiszka.” Sam cocks a questioning eyebrow at him, both men staring down the other to see who would speak first. Danny takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and muster up the courage to start, knowing that once he said that first word, the rest would come to him as easy as breathing. His hands trail from Sam’s back, down his arms, and finally stop with the others hands in his own as he takes one final deep breath.

“Sam…” he starts. “I think, no, I know that I’ve been in love with you since the eighth grade. And I… I’m gonna keep loving you for as long as I’m on this Earth, and even after that too.”

Sam’s breath catches in his throat as tears begin to well in his eyes. Oh my god, is he about to-? This can’t be happening.

Danny continues, tears beginning to brim in his own eyes at the sight of Sam hanging onto his every word. “You are my best friend and… and I couldn’t ask for a better person to share the rest of my life with.” Danny reaches for his pocket, his shaking hands somehow grasping the small box as he lowers to one knee. With Sam’s hands now free, they come up to cover his mouth in surprise, looking down at his boyfriend in adoration. Danny clicks the box open, holding it out as he finishes the question he had been wanting to ask Sam since they first got together. “So, Samuel Kiszka, will you do me the greatest honor by marrying me?”

While Danny had thought he had prepared himself for any possible answer or reaction, what he’s met with is somehow not one of them as Sam bursts out in laughter, his tears making streaks down his face as he sinks to his knees in front of Danny. He barely notices the look of extreme confusion painted across Danny’s face through his tears and laughter as he reaches for his own pocket, pulling out a small box and opening it to reveal a simple, yet gorgeous ring; a silver band with a singular stripe of black inlay around its center, a triangular cut diamond set into the middle. As the gears turn in Danny’s head, he joins Sam as they kneel together laughing through their tears.

Sam’s the first one to catch his breath enough to speak, bringing his hand not holding the ring up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “And I thought I was gonna be the only one proposing tonight.” He laughs out. “I thought I was being so sly with the hint of Paper Rings.”

“I fucking knew there was something behind that! Jake tried to tell me otherwise that it was just a coincidence and that Sebastian helped you pick your song.”

“I mean Jake’s not half-wrong; Sebastian did help me, he was in on this.”

Danny’s jaw drops. “No fucking way, he was in on my plan too. Sneaky bastard.” He says with no real malice in his tone. They gaze at each other as their laughs die out, both shaking their heads at their friends’ role in both of their plans. “So, you haven’t answered me.” Danny says with a smile. “Will you marry me, Sammy?”

“Of fucking course, is that even a question?” Is all he gets out before tackling Danny, toppling them both backwards onto the floor in a bone crushing embrace. They stay this way for a few moments, letting their tears fall and dry on their cheeks before they both get back onto their knees, each placing a ring on the other’s finger. Sam admires his ring with a grin before his gaze rests on his fiancé once more. “My favorite, pansies.”

“I know.” Danny says with a matching grin before gently grabbing Sam’s chin and bringing his lips to his own. The kiss is slow and passionate, filled with all the unsaid words of how much the other meant to them. They break apart eventually, their foreheads resting against one another with their eyes closed as they take the moment in.

Sam is the first to notice the song had once again changed to something he recognized. He leans back, gazing at Danny with all the love he could muster into once single look.

“But I must admit it,

That I would marry you in an instant.

Damn your wife,

I’d be your mistress just to have you around.”

“You know, I almost thought you were gonna propose to me that night, when you sang it to me in the car.”

Danny laughs at his words. “Baby, we had been dating for three months at that point. I know we’re in a gay relationship, but we aren’t that stereotypical.”

He receives a lighthearted swat to his shoulder as Sam tries, and fails, to hide his smile. “I know, I know! But I mean, we’ve known each other since sixth grade and had already talked about how we’d been in love with each other for years. Like I said I almost thought you were gonna propose.”

Danny takes Sam’s hands in his own once more. “Well, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long.”

Sam offers him gentle squeeze. “I’d wait for you forever, Danny.” Their tender moment is broken by a loud yell, their heads whipping towards the source to see Josh standing with the performer’s door cracked open as he yelled back at the others waiting silently around the corner.

“I THINK HE FUCKING SAID YES!” They all begin filing out, grins wide across their faces as Danny and Sam get to their feet.

“Yeah, think we could gather that ourselves, Josh.” Jake says in a sarcastic voice as he shakes his head at his brother. He aims his question at Sam, next. “You said yes, right?”

“We both did.” Danny says with a grin as he holds his left hand up for the others to see. Everyone but Sebastian’s eyes go wide as their jaws drop.

“You both proposed?!” Josh exclaims, rushing towards the pair to tackle them in a tight hug.

“We did, and it turns out, Sebastian was in on both of our plans and didn’t say jack shit.” Josh, Jake, and Austin turn on Sebastian who only holds his hands up in defense.

“Listen, y’all both told me not to tell no one so I didn’t. Worked out mighty fine in the end anyways.” While Jake pouts at Sebastian for not telling him, Josh rounds on Sam instead.

“You told Sebastian but not Jake or I???”

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t want you guys to accidentally spoil it.”

“You can make it up by making me best man at the wedding.”

This brings Jake’s attention back to Sam and Danny, his eyebrows furrowing. “Who the fuck said you get to be best man?”

Austin speaks up, having gotten good at diffusing twin banter over the course of his and Josh’s relationship. “Alright boys, that’s enough. I’m sure Daniel and Sam have a lot to plan before they even think about that so let’s just get back to bein’ happy for them, alright?”  With their attention turned back to their engagement, each boy takes turn hugging Sam and Danny, congratulating them both. Jake is the last to hug Danny, squeezing him tight before patting his back.

“You’ve always been a brother to Josh and I, but now it’ll be legal. I’m so fucking happy for you, man.”

“Thank you, Jake.”

“I hate to break up this moment, but we better leave before they kick us out.” Sebastian half-jokes. The others voice their agreements, grabbing their bags as they slowly make their way towards the door.

“So, who’s taking whose last name?” Josh says as soon as the cool night air hits their skin. Danny and Sam exchange a look, not having had that conversation yet due to the interruption of the others.

“I don’t know, Daniel Kiszka has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, Sammy?”

Sam intertwines his fingers with Danny’s, leaning into him as they walk. “Hmmmm, it does. But so does Samuel Wagner.”

“I guess y’all have another thing to figure out before you can even get to the question of best man.”

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

Songs:

Material Girl- Madonna

Rich Girl- Gwen Stefani

Money, Money, Money- Meryl Streep, Julie Walters & Christine Baranski

Partners in Crime- Set It Off

Paper Rings- Taylor Swift

Fast Car- Luke Combs

Cleopatra- The Lumineers

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

taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm

[missvelvetsstuff]

Just A Number

Bucky Barnes x Older Reader

Summary: Reader meets Bucky at a party and the attraction is more than either one of them wants to resist.

Since most stories are younger readers I felt like having a more mature reader could be a nice change of pace. Especially since I'm creeping up on senior discounts and want to believe Bucky could fall in love with someone like me.

I try to keep my readers description vague but, as always, she's female, tall and this one is obviously 40+

Note: I'm sorry this update took so long, life has been troublesome the last few weeks and I've had a hard time concentrating on writing. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 6

Warnings: swearing, angst

Sunday morning Y/N woke up refreshed but a bit frustrated from her dreams involving Bucky. She got up and showered before wandering into the kitchen for coffee.

Dawn was at the table reading the paper with her coffee and nodded to her sister as she walked in.

Y/N filled her favorite mug with coffee, took a section of the paper and sat at the table across from Dawn.

As always, they finished their coffee before either of them started talking and Dawn had a small smile on her face while she listened to her sister go on about her date.

Once Y/N had answered all of Dawn's questions about the nite before, they discussed what needed to be done for the day.

Y/N put a roast in the crock pot with some cut up potatoes and carrots for that evenings dinner.

Once the house was straightened up they went for lunch and grocery shopping before returning home where they sat down to catch up on their favorite show.

At 4:00 they heard keys in the front door and paused their show. Y/N stood up and turned around to see her firstborn, one of the few people she had to look up to.

He smiled and pulled her into a hug "Hey Mom."

Y/N pulled back to look at him and saw the bags under his eyes "Hi Michael. You look tired. Is everything ok?"

He grinned at her "Everything's fine. I've just been working a lot. Between the play and the club I don't have the energy for much else."

She pulled him into the living room and sat on the couch next to him. "I'll bet you haven't been eating either." She looked him in the eye.

He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat "No, not like I should be."

She patted his face "Lucky for you there should be plenty for you to take some food home."

"Thanks, Mom. You know I- wait. Why do you look all smiley like that? You and Auntie been drinking all day?" He chuckled.

"HEY" Dawn shouted from the kitchen, and walked into the room. "I heard that young man and we've only had a glass of wine each."

He stood and kissed her on the cheek then nodded towards his mother "So what is she so happy about?"

Y/N scoffed teasingly "Maybe I'm just in a good mood. Can't I just be happy without some deeper meaning?"

Michael shook his head and looked at her sadly "Not since the snap."

Her smile fell and she excused herself to check on dinner

Dawn admonished him "Good work dumbass. You couldn't just enjoy her good mood and let her have it. You just have to question everything and if that's not bad enough you had to bring up the snap."

Michael looked at her confused "I wasn't trying to upset her but it's just weird for her to be so happy. So, what happened?"

"That's not my story to tell but I'm sure she'll share once your sister gets here."

Y/N was just standing in the kitchen, listening to them interact and trying to stop her tears, until the front door opened and a black bundle of fur burst into the room, making her crouch down right before it was in her lap kissing her all over her face

"Ok, ok, Luna! Calm down." She scratched the pit-mix puppies neck to calm her down some and smiled at her daughter

"Hey Jessie"

Jessie smiled back and quickly helped her up to hug her which got her puppy excited again

"Hi Mom. You alright? Why so happy, did you get some good news? What are you up to?" She teased.

Y/N feigned shock as she sat at the dinner table "Well I never! I'm just happy to see my babies and appreciating the closest thing I'll get to a grandchild anytime soon."

Jessie looked her mother over "No, that's not it." She looked to her brother "What did I miss?"

Michael shrugged "Auntie won't even spill." He looked at his mother with an emotionless face "Are you finally running off to join the circus like you've been threatening since we were kids?"

Dawn cackled "Cold! Not even close."

Michael and Jessie started throwing out every ridiculous possibility they could think of....

"Aliens are taking you away as their pet before they conquer the planet?"

"You're an android from the future and we're test subjects but you've been called back to save the galaxy?"

"No, wait, I know! You're Q and have to go run the country?"

Y/N giggled at their antics as she pet Luna on her lap.

"Stephen Spielberg discovered you in a coffee shop and you're going to be the next Meryl Streep."

"Omg, Joe Elliot finally responded to one of your fan letters and is whisking you off to tour the world with the band?"

"You met and are dating a superhero?"

Dawn coughed on her drink and Y/N gasped.

Jessie looked at her mother, noticing how wide her eyes were then looked at Dawn who looked like she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Michael looked at Jessie "Wait, what? Mom are you dating a superhero?"

Y/N cleared her throat "Actually, yes I am."

Michael shook his head "You didn't give in to uncle John, did you?"

Y/N shook her head "Eewww, not a chance. I would never call him a hero anyways, super soldier or not."

She looked at the clock on the wall "Dinner is about ready. Come set the table."

She sent Luna to lay on her pillow in the living room.

Jessie bounced next to her mother "So who is he? Is he cute? When can we meet him?"

Y/N laughed "Slow down little one. Let's get dinner on the table and I'll tell you everything."

Jessie kept talking, telling her mother about her week as they put everything on the table, sat and filled their plates.

Everyone was quiet as they started eating until Jessie couldn't hold it anymore. "Come on Mom. Tell us about your new boyfriend."

Her eyes grew as she looked at her mother and she whispered "It's not Captain America is it?"

Y/N giggled and patted Jessie's hand "I wouldn't say boyfriend but we are dating. It's not Captain America but it is his friend. James Barnes, he-"

Michael spat out "The Winter Soldier? Mom you're dating the goddamn Winter Soldier? Are you fucking kidding me? He's a killer."

Y/N took a deep breath before she spoke, deadly calm "Michael, no matter how old you are I will always be your mother and you will show me some respect."

He scoffed "You aren't showing yourself any respect by dating a killer like him. I read he's the one who killed JFK. How can you do this to us?"

Y/N bristled "Do this to you? Are you serious? What am I doing to you?"

She shook her head and continued before he could answer.

"I haven't even been on a date since we lost your father in the snap. I couldn't bring myself to even try to date or meet anyone and had almost accepted that my time with him was all the love I deserved in this life.

You guys keep telling me to go out and get a life but now I'm trying and you hate him before even meeting him."

She took a deep breath to calm herself "He was a killer and was brainwashed and tortured by HYDRA for decades but he's better now. I mean he still has nightmares but he's trying to help people now. The trigger words are gone, that's not him anymore."

Michael shook his head "What if you say or do something that triggers him or he has a nightmare and hurts you before he wakes up enough to realize? What if someone from his past shows up looking for revenge? You like this guy enough to risk your life? Our lives?"

He wiped under his eyes "No. No, Mom. I am not ok with this. It hasn't been that long since dad and now you want to date someone like him."

He quickly finished his drink and abruptly stood "I can't, I I just need some air" and strode out the door.

Y/N just sat there in shock, tears in her eyes. Michael hadn't acted like that since he was a teenager.

Jessie reached for her mothers hand "Don't worry, he'll walk it off and calm down. Besides, I'm excited for you so tell me everything."

Y/N looked at her sadly "It doesn't matter, obviously I can't keep seeing him if it upsets your brother so much. It was a nice idea but let's just drop it."

Jessie shook her head "No, Mom. Don't let Michael acting like a toddler stop you from being happy. You've been through so much and gave everything to us while ignoring your own needs."

She smiled "So does he treat you well? I bet he's old fashioned, huh? Opening doors and pulling out chairs."

Y/N tried to return the smile but couldn't keep it up and the tears overwhelmed her. "I'm sorry Jess, I can't do this."

She stood up "Just eat what you can and take home what you want. I'll get the dishes later."

She hugged her daughter and went to her bedroom.

Jessie ate some dinner then cleaned the kitchen while waiting for her brother to return. When he did she came at him.

"Where's Mom?" He looked at her.

Jessie didn't hold back "Are you fucking proud of yourself? Mom is finally happy and doing something for herself for the first time since Dad died and you have to shit all over her? She deserves to be happy too or do you expect her to spend her life working and mourning someone who has been gone for almost 7 years."

"But, Dad-"

She shook her head "No Michael, dad is dead. It sucks and it hurts and I miss him too but that's life. Mom isn't dead but you want her to act like it."

Michael scoffed "Don't be stupid, Jessica. I know she deserves to be happy but why does it have to be with him? With him she could end up dead too."

In her room, Y/N was getting fed up with the arguing so she got up to say something when she heard her sister step in.

"You two need to calm down, you know how your mother feels about yelling." She walked up to Michael and poked him in the chest "And you! You will knock this shit off and not judge someone before you even meet him. He's a good man with a past that wasn't his choice. He treats her well and is obviously smitten.

I won't let you take that away from her. After everything she's been through, everything she's done for you, she deserves to have someone who loves her."

Michael complained "I'm not saying she doesn't but why him? Why not one of the other millions of men in this city?"

Dawn shook her head "You should know better than most that we don't choose who we love. How is Dylan, by the way? Why didn't you bring him with you tonite?"

He looked at the floor "We don't choose who we love but we can choose not to pursue a relationship with someone who is questionable." He mumbled "Dylan had rehearsals tonite."

Dawn nodded, thinking "And didn't Dylan have a drug problem when you met him?"

Michael looked at her like she betrayed him "Yes, auntie you know he did but he's clean now, for 2 years. Besides, that's not the same as being a brainwashed assassin."

Dawn scolded him "Someone with an addiction can be very dangerous but you still gave him a chance. Right?"

"Well yeah but-"

She smacked him in the shoulder "No buts. You will give James a chance and support your mother's happiness. Just because you're 3 feet taller than me, don't think I can't, or won't, kick your dumb ass. Now take some food and go home, some of us have to work in the morning."

As Dawn went up the stairs to her room Jessie looked at Michael like she did when they were little and he got in trouble for teasing her, pure smug. She handed him a bag with leftovers.

He shook his head, kissed her on the top of the head and left the house he grew up in without saying another word. Worry about his mother and that man filling his mind.

Y/N took a hot bath and got ready for bed. When she checked the alarm on her phone she saw she had a text. Her heart sped up, it was Bucky

'Hey Doll, just thinking of you. I hope your dinner went well'

She smiled before her sons words popped back up in her mind and she held in a little sob like he could hear it somehow.

'It could have been better. My son is being difficult. He's an actor so tends to be a bit dramatic. He'll come around'

'You sure? I don't want to cause family drama'

She thought for a minute, weighing the pros and cons involved with dating James, that she had written down. Then told herself 'Fuck it' and crumpled the paper up.

'Positive. He's a grown up and can deal with it. I'm tired of being lonely.'

Bucky smiled at her words 'I know what you mean. Get some sleep and let me know when you have time this week.'

She smiled at the warmth in her chest from thinking of him.

'Yes sargent, g'nite'

Bucky growled, she was gonna make him crazy.

'Sweet dreams, sweetheart.'

@supraveng @cjand10 @440mxs-wife @kandis-mom @dtba-grey81

Chapter 7

[ejzah]

It’s Baby Time, Part 2

***

“Deeks!” he heard Kensi shout from across the house. He paused with an Allen wrench in one hand

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I’m pretty sure my water just broke,” she called back. He didn’t say anything for a moment as his brain froze.

“Um, sorry but it sounded like you just said your water broke,” he said, jogging through the house, until he found Kensi. She sat in the middle of the master bath with her legs slightly bent, a slightly shocked expression on her face. “Baby?”

She held up her wet fingertips in answer, nodding to the small puddle of liquid on the tile.

“Ok, that a few weeks earlier than what we expected. But Sheila said that wasn’t unusual with twins, right?”

“Yeah. I just thought there’d be more warning signs.”

“I guess the whole semen thing isn’t such a myth after all,” he said, and Kensi look up at him incredulously.

“Are you really joking about sex right now?” she asked. He shrugged.

“You know how I am. It’s either that or panic a little bit.”

“Mm, I have complete faith in you,” Kensi assured him.

“Ok, I’m going to call Sheila.” He belatedly realized he was still holding the wrench and tucked it into his pocket as he grabbed his phone. “But first I’ll grab you some shorts and a towel,” he decided, seeing how Kensi was awkwardly crouched on the floor.

When he returned a couple minutes later, Kensi had moved back again the sink cupboard; she inhaled slowly through her nose, eyes shut.

“Baby, are you ok?”

She opened her eyes slowly, taking a few extra seconds to focus on him. “Yeah, it’s just a lot more intense than I expected. Most of the mommy blogs, and books, and Instagram posts all talk about a dull ache and pressure, but this feels like super strong cramps.”

“Well, let me help you put these on, you can get back in bed,” Deeks suggested. “and then I’ll call Sheila.”

Kensi reached up, grabbing ahold of his forearm when he offered it, and laboriously pulled herself up. She used his shoulder as a brace while she clumsily pulled the shorts on. “Laying down sounds horrible right now. I think I’m just going to walk around for a while.” She winced suddenly, hand clamping down on his arm while she squeezed her eyes shut for about five seconds.

“Was that a contraction?” he asked, automatically resting a supporting hand on Kensi’s lower back. He found it a little disconcerting that she was already in this much pain.

“I think so. It wasn’t too bad,” she insisted, and he wasn’t sure which of them she was trying to convince.

While he made the call, he started pulling out various supplies from the garage. With his cell tucked between his ear and shoulder, he dragged out the pool, as Sheila asked him about Kensi’s condition, and gave precise instructions. He’d always found her to have a calming, reassuring presence, and today was no different. By the time they ended the call, he felt more at ease.

He found Kensi walking the length of their bedroom, her hair pulled up in a loose bun now. He could swear her bump looked lower than just a few minutes ago.

“What did Sheila say?”

“She was with another client, but she’s coming her as soon as she finishes. She estimates about an hour,” Deeks related. “I told her that you were already having some contractions, which she said is fine. We only need to worry if they dramatically increase in duration and frequency. At which point, we should head to the hospital and she’ll meet us there.”

“How long for the contractions?” Kensi asked shortly, panting slightly as she paced quickly, one hand braced underneath her belly.

“Around a minute long every 3-4 minutes.” He watched for a few more seconds, knowing the answer before he even asked, “You’re there already aren’t you?”

“Yep. I don’t think we’re gonna make it to the hospital.”

“Ok, we’re doing this, this is happening,” Deeks babbled breathlessly. He’d delivered a few babies over the years, but never twins. Although he’d prepared just in case, he’d never seriously considered having to deliver his own children.

He closed his eyes, pausing to inhale as deeply as he could, then blew it out slowly, centering himself. When he opened his eyes again, he felt calmer, focused on the task at hand. “Alright, let’s get you in the bathroom.”

Kensi nodded, walking slowly with Deeks besides her. She paused in the doorway, lips clamping tight as she rode out another contraction. “Oh, that was a good one,” she muttered from between her teeth.

Once they were in the bathroom, Deeks helped her settle on the closed toilet, immediately turning to rush back out. Kensi grabbed his arm before he could leave.

“Where are you going?”

I gotta grab the birth kit. Unfortunately, I don’t think we have time to fill the pool up.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Kensi agreed with a faint smile. “Maybe grab a bottle of vodka while you’re down there.” He kissed her temple, lingering for a second, then he was off again.

He gathered everything with a single-minded focus, the immediacy of the situation not leaving time for him to worry. It only took a few minutes, but when he made it back to Kensi, she’d moved to the edge of the toilet, her left hand gripping the side of the counter so tightly, her fingers were bright white.

“You better make this quick, because it feels like these babies are ready to come right now,” she warned him.

Deeks threw one of the tarps across the floor, laying out gauze and other supplies before he turned back to Kensi.

“You ready?”

“Not even a little bit,” she said with a soft laugh, that morphed into a moan of pain halfway through.

“It’s ok, you’re going to be amazing,” Deeks told her, reaching out with both hands. Kensi took them, squeezing tightly as she stood, grabbing the counter again while Deeks helped her out of the shorts.

He was still kneeling, when Kensi let out a strangled noise, her free hand instantly finding his shoulder. “I need to push,” she gasped out in between short, panting breaths.

“Ok, it’s alright, just breathe with me, baby. I’ve got you,” Deeks said, modeling a steady pattern, Kensi following along after a few cycles. He gently reached between her legs, shocked when he felt the soft crown of a baby’s head beneath his fingers.

“Oh my god,” he muttered without thinking.

“I told you they were ready.”

“Yeah, yeah, you did.” He didn’t have time to say anything else as Kensi exhaled, long and shaking, and the baby’s entire head popped out. “Ok, good, that’s really good, baby. Keep on pushing as steady as you can,” he encouraged, gently freeing one shoulder. Kensi gave another hard push, and he held a baby in his hands.

He swiped the fluid away from its mouth and nose, marveling at the tiny human in his arms. His strength wavered ever so slightly as he rested his hand over the baby’s chest, fingers trembling. Then he made a sound of relief when he felt the tiny beat of a heart thumping back against his palm. A moment later, her little mouth opened and she cried, head turning, seeking out the warmth of his skin.

“Deeks?” Kensi said, and he realized he’d been silent for too long.

“It’s a girl.” He grabbed one of the blankets, quickly swaddling the baby, and held her up. Kensi made a soft sobbing sound, reaching out to brush her fingers over the baby’s head.

“She’s perfect,” she whispered, then winced again. “I think it’s time for round two.”

Deeks set the first baby to the side, securing her in a second towel, and set her in the sink of all places, then returned to Kensi’s side.

The second baby, a boy who was equally as tiny, came even faster, taking just a few short pushes, which was good since Kensi’s legs were trembling with the effort of standing. As soon as he’d ensured the baby boy’s mouth and nose were clear and he was breathing, Deeks helped her to the floor.

She brushed a handful of damp hair out of her eyes, reaching for the baby boy. Deeks cradled the other baby, gently wiping away the fluid and vernix. He gave a soft whimpering cry, burrowing his little face into Deeks’ hand.

“Oh, he’s beautiful.” He’d never heard such awe in Kensi’s voice before.

Deeks carefully placed the other baby in her arm, tears forming in his eyes, as he looked down at them all.

“They both are,” he said, slightly dazed now that it was over. Kensi nodded slightly in agreement, kissing each baby’s head.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” she whispered, sounding just as stunned as Deeks felt. “We just delivered our twins all by ourselves.”

“It’s insane,” Deeks agreed with a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Thank you for being her with me.”

“Like I’d be anywhere else. Besides, you did all the work.” And he was in complete awe of her.

“I’d never have been able to do it without you,” Kensi insisted. She leaned forward, waiting for Deeks to meet her halfway, catching the corner of his mouth with her lips. When she pulled back, she look back down at the babies. “Look at what we made.”

“Pretty freaking amazing,” Deeks said, cupping the back of a tiny head.

***

A/N: I don’t think Kensi and Deeks actually have a spare bedroom, but we’re not going to make them go through the ordeal of moving to a larger place just now.

And yes, I realize certain aspects of this scenario are slightly unrealistic. But, I know that it is quite possible to have a baby that quickly. A relative of mine had to unexpectedly help his wife deliver their baby at home in a similar situation.

Also, it’s quite tricky figuring out what to do with a baby still attached to an umbilical cord, when there’s another baby on the way and there’s no one to hold said first baby.

Small part three to follow.

[nothanksehh]

In the End Chapter 4

Warnings: Piper's foul mouth, self-harm thoughts

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

The morning came faster than I anticipated it would. I wasn't exactly nervous to be training alone with Azriel, but I was nervous about what we would be training. Did that mean I would hold a blade or something to that extent? I wish I had thought to ask more questions in the moment. I thought that there had probably been a lot of questions I should have asked as I paced my room anxiously looking for something remotely appropriate to wear. There were so many different things that could go wrong. So many things that, if I had just taken a moment to pretend that I cared about my safety, I could have asked so that I would be less anxious about this. 

Did it even matter what I would be wearing? Or would what I chose to wear somehow make Azriel judge me? It makes no fucking sense that he would offer to train me in the first place, let alone offer and then not give me any other information?! What do you even wear to a training session that you have no idea what it will contain? Delving into my closet proved more difficult than just picking the first thing that my eyes came across. I tried outfit after outfit, all of them more ridiculous than the last. By the time there was a slight knock on my door I had decided on a pair of loose pants and a matching top, both in a soft gray color. Both felt equally wrong but I was done trying. All of the other items in my wardrobe made it look like I was attending fancy dinner parties nightly and being wooed by strangers that would compliment the smooth lines of the bodices or some shit like that.

I made my way to the door to let Azriel in and motioned to my outfit.

"Is this okay? I am not sure what to wear." He nodded slightly as his shadows swirled around my ankles, ruffling the fabric that gathered there.

"It is fine for today. If you want to keep this up after what I put you through we can acquire you more appropriate clothing." Well, that is a fucking relief. 

We walked towards the front of the house in silence. Azriel paused just outside of the front door and turned towards me.

"To get where we need to go I will have to fly us there. Rest assured... I have never dropped anyone by accident."

I flinched even though I knew the joke was made to lighten the mood. I wouldn't do much in the way of fighting him to get where we needed to be. The idea of flying with him had never crossed my mind. Heights never appealed to me like it did to some of the others in my village. Growing up, kids would throw themselves off of the tallest tree branches they would dare to climb just for a hint of the wind on their faces. Just for that small glimpse at flying. I couldn't even climb to half of the places they would go to without shaking so badly I would fall out of the tree. 

The realization that we would reach a height that would have made me weep before did not shake me. No, I flinched because I came to the realization that I would not weep if I was dropped. I flinched because I almost wished that getting to death that quickly would be easy. Flinched because, if I had my way, in my head Azriel would drop me. And I would fall and come to be with those I desperately wanted to see more than anything. And Azriel or some other sorry asshole would have to clean me off of the street below. And I couldn't picture the person being particularly happy to perform that action. 

Azriel seemed to process where my train of thoughts had led and his eyes seemed to darken. I expected more preamble, but he simply scooped me up into his arms and took off. 

I had to shut my eyes with how quickly he flew. The wind seemed to aim directly at my eyes for some fucking reason. Fuck you too, wind. I was seriously tempted to make a crude gesture into it. I was in the process of lifting my hand to do just that when Azriel burst into laughter. 

Not the small huffs of breath laughter that I had heard from him before. No, this was full-on rumbling laughter. I wanted to look up at him and see what was so funny but I couldn't see through my watering eyes. 

"Please let me know what has you cackling as the wind has its way with my eyeballs. I would love to know."

But he couldn't answer. He was still laughing when we landed a few moments later. He set me down gently and took a step back to compose himself before he spoke, "I apologize. I thought it would be entertaining to see your genuine reaction to flying and forgot to put a shield around you so that the wind would not affect you. I hadn't realized until I looked down at you and you had tears streaming down your face about flip off the wind with the most hated look I have ever seen grace the face of someone."

The retelling must have painted the picture in his mind again because he started chuckling as he spoke. 

"And what exactly is so funny about being assaulted? I thought that would be a serious offense in this court." I didn't like that he found such amusement in this. I wished for that fire to appear at my fingertips for a moment, just so I could wipe the smile off his pretty face. 

"Oh, most certainly. Would you like me to call the High Lord so you can make a full report? I, for one, would love to witness it."

The smart mouth on this male had surely been the cause of fights before. I don't know what it was about him, but it made me want to sass him right back. I wanted to pick a stupid fight over the wind and just forget for a minute. Forget where I was, and forget what had happened. But even the thought of wishing for that fight had me sobering back into a morose mood. 

Sensing the shift again, Azriel took a breath and I could almost see the cold mask of the shadowsinger sliding back into place. I am glad I didn't need to explain. Our eyes met and he motioned toward the middle of the training area, the message was clear. Playtime was over. 

Azriel showed me simple stretches and movements to "warm up my body" before we started. I was panting before we had half-finished. If these were the warm-ups, surely he actually meant to kill me today. What a relief. 

But when we had completed this routine of his, he had me sit on a mat facing him with legs crossed. He mirrored the position in front of me, only four or so inches between our knees. I was not prepared to be sitting after what he just put me through. I had almost resigned myself to finally ask all of those nagging questions from earlier this morning when he finally spoke.

"I know that you want to be able to fight with blades and fire and everything in between, and you can. Myself, nor anyone else in this court, will take that away from you if that is what you wish to do. But this training between you and I will not contain blades or armor." He paused a moment, seeming to need strength before continuing, "I come here every morning, rising before all others, and meditate. There are demons that will never leave for me. Things that have occurred in my past that will not allow me to forcibly remove them. And so I meditate here, daily, so that I can be around my friends without wanting to end myself out of spite. I can see that you feel the same way. I want you to be able to have the tools that you need to be able to make it through a day without wanting it all to end. I will not force you to continue after today if you do not want to. But if you will let me, I can help you learn to meditate and work through your thoughts on your own without involving others the way that I wish I had learned to."

I wasn't sure in what way, exactly, he had involved others in the past. Being the spymaster and leader of interrogations for this land gave me a clue though.

I shuddered inwardly as I contemplated that. Was I going to let this consume me to the point of turning it on others? I had never wanted to harm beings in the past, but I could imagine how this grief could fester. Could see what I would be years from now, totally removed from myself, going town to town looking for those who would cause others pain. And I could see exactly how much pleasure I would take in causing that same pain to them that was caused to me. Did I want that? 

It almost terrified me how easy it would be to let it take over. How simple it would be to take those lives and move on with my own. Pain for pain. Suffering for suffering. 

I knew that I had been quiet for far too long when Azriel nudged my knee with his own, just hard enough to jolt me from my train of thought. 

"And what... what if I like the idea of involving others? Does...," I almost didn't want to continue but the words forced themselves from my lips, "Will that make me a monster?"

He mulled it over before speaking, "Do you think I am a monster?"

"No!" I responded quicker than intending to. "Of course not, you saved me and I am sure have saved others when you did not have to. You let me stay in this court essentially dead for a year so that I would be safe. What you do as your job for this court does not make you a monster. You are protecting it."

Azriel smiled briefly and just nodded, "So you have your answer, then. But humor me first. Meditate with me today, learn the techniques I want to show you. We can talk about your lust for bloodshed after."

As much as I didn't want to agree, I knew I needed some sort of outlet. Something to channel my rage into, my sadness. My shoulders sagged slightly as I agreed.

And so Azriel showed me how to meditate. Told me how to clear my mind and breath in a certain way. How to stay silent and listen to my surroundings and let every thought wash away as soon as they came. We sat still for so long at one point without speaking that I could have been convinced that I was alone on this rooftop. Eventually, my eyes opened of their own accord and I met the gaze of Azriel. He looked more peaceful than when we had started. He asked me if I was ready and I agreed. 

When he returned me to my room, I agreed that I would want to continue meditating with him. I still wanted to learn to wield blades and fists at some point, but I could see how this was an important first step. I did not want to end up hurting Azriel or anyone else before I even became useful in a fight. And with my thoughts and temper rising to the forefront of my brain at any given moment, I would be distracted. I would hurt someone who didn't deserve it. Azriel mirrored my thoughts and told me that he would be back for me tomorrow at the same time. 

And so we continued. Every morning I would rise early and train with Azriel. Sitting in companionable silence as we both battled our inner demons. And I realized that even if I couldn't let myself die, at least I had someone like Azriel who understood that I was not okay. Understood and didn't need me to explain why I had wanted to die in the first place. I didn't need to explain to him the reason why I diligently worked towards some sort of handle over myself. Because he was right there with me. And that was okay.

A/N: Hi all! Sorry for the long delay between chapters. My household has gotten absolutely swamped with sicknesses. I am finally feeling better and will resume my writing! I also wanted to make a note about the writing style starting in this chapter specifically. Piper has been through some serious trauma and the first couple of chapters did not have much depth into her feelings and thoughts simply because she was "shut off" so to speak. I hope that you will start to see a little bit more of Piper's personality (*cough cough* and cussing) come out to play starting from now on as she learns to process. Also sorry for the short ending to this chapter. Be prepared to meet friends next chapter!

[ifbench]

PMD Eternal Shadows Chapter 4: Home Sweet Home

Twig Woodland Outskirts

Light flooded my vision, before fading. Before me, was a dirt path leading into the distance up a sunset-lit hill. The trees were much sparser now, no longer forming solid walls.

“We’re out!” exclaimed Burhalla, as I heard something shatter.

What was that?!

Before I could ask what that was, Saltriv started running down the path, before stopping a few steps away, and turning around, a worried expression on their face. “Come on! I want to see my family again!” they demanded.

I could understand their worry. I’d been through something like that once, though not to this degree.

I shuddered as the memory came back. Listening to the news about how Kyogre and Groudon were rampaging near Hoenn, frantically packing only the necessities before leaving the house, getting lost in the crowd and separated from my family as everyone in Goldenrod evacuated, calling out for help to no avail...If that brawl had made its way to Johto—

“Gen! Come on!” Saltriv’s voice echoed, breaking that train of thought. I had gotten lost in my thoughts again. I needed to focus on the task at hand, that being going with Burhalla and Saltriv.

I ran towards the two, and together, the three of us headed along the path towards the sunset.

No words were spoken for some time. I think we were all just relieved to be out of that place. I know I was.

As we climbed the hill, I started to hear unfamiliar voices, though I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. I slowed my pace a bit. I looked towards the other two, and they didn’t seem to notice them. Was I just hearing things?

Should I tell the others? Would they believe me? Would it be a good idea to keep this a secret from them after what Burhalla had said?

In the midst of me trying to figure out what to do, I saw a trio of figures emerge over the hilltop. I couldn’t tell what they were from this distance, but Burhalla seemingly could, as his footsteps halted.

“Berry crackers. I’ve been found out,” I heard him mumble under his breath.

The figures continued to approach, and I could now make them out. A Typhlosion, a Meganium, and a Porygon-Z.

There was an audible gasp, and the Meganium came barreling at us with a shout of, “SALTRIV!”

This was probably one of Saltriv’s parents, then.

Saltriv ran off from our group with a similar shout of, “MOM!”

As the two reunited, the Typhlosion approached us. Out of the corner of my vision, I noticed Burhalla’s expression pale.

“Burhalla,” the Typhlosion spoke, briefly glancing at Saltriv, before turning back to the Charmander.

“Hi, dad,” Burhalla responded after a pause.

“I understand what you were doing. Really, I do. And I’m glad that you found Saltriv. But you should have known better! You could have gone missing, or worse!” Burhalla’s father roared at him. “What if you had? What would I do? What would Valorch do? I need to have a stern talk with you once we’re home.”

I stood there awkwardly, all alone, as two contrasting conversations played out near me. I looked back and forth between Saltriv and Burhalla, barely registering the Porygon-Z following the rest of their group down the hill.

“Well, se-se-seems like Burhalla’s fine, and they even brought back Saltriv and this Oshawott! All’s well that en-en-ends well, at least!” the Porygon-Z stuttered, bringing me back to reality as I was finally addressed.

I locked eyes with the Porygon-Z, before they leaned towards me. “So what’s yo-yo-your deal? I’ve nev-ev-ever seen you around town before,” they asked.

“I’m Gen,” I responded, taking note of their...odd speech pattern. I remember learning that Porygon-Zs were unstable. Was that still true in this world?

“Where are you from-om-om? My memory banks indicate the Oshawo-wo-wott family not being common on the Thunder continent,” they continued, their tone changing midway through to a more robotic one.

What now? Do I tell them what I told Saltriv and Burhalla, since the two of them were right there? Would the Porygon-Z be able to tell it was a lie? I didn’t remember if the Porygon line were normal-type or psychic-type. Either way, I needed to decide, and quickly, before anyone got suspicious.

“I don’t remember,” I lied, hoping I made the right choice, or at least the best choice I could at this point.

“You do not recall what lo-lo-location you are from?! That’s ve-ve-very worrying,” the Porygon-Z replied, their tone again switching as they spoke.

The conversation between Burhalla and his father stopped, as did the one between Saltriv and their mother.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't even notice you. I was a bit...caught up," the Meganium said, with a glance towards Saltriv. “You really don’t remember where you’re from? What do you remember?” the Meganium continued, worry seeping into their voice.

“Just my name, and how to do some things,” I parroted back my response to when Burhalla had asked that question, causing the look of worry on the Meganium’s face to worsen.

“I’m not sure if I should believe you. You’re not faking it, trying to pretend to be another amnesiac human sent to save the world?” the Typhlosion interrogated. “There’s been four Pokemon who tried lying about that just this month.”

My confidence shattered with his words. I couldn’t tell the truth now, after what Burhalla had said. Plus, given what the Typhlosion was saying, they definitely wouldn’t believe the truth. I could ponder this more later, though, for now, I had to reply.

“I’m telling the tru-” I began, before I heard Saltriv speak up.

“It’s true. He couldn’t even remember how to use moves,” they defended.

The Typhlosion looked like he wanted to say something, and began to open his mouth, but Burhalla interjected.

“I saw it too. He couldn’t even remember how to use Water Gun. He never mentioned being a human, either,” Burhalla backed up Saltriv and myself. I shot a grateful look towards him, and he nodded silently in response.

“Can’t we talk about this more once we’re in town?” Saltriv pleaded. “I want to see dad again.”

“That sounds like a splen-len-lendid idea! Le-le-let’s go back to the village,” the Porygon-Z spoke, before floating towards the hilltop.

“If we don’t start heading back soon, we won’t return before nightfall,” the Meganium said, before following behind the Porygon-Z alongside Saltriv.

The Typhlosion hesitated for a moment, before starting back up the hill. I did the same, Burhalla walking alongside me once I caught up to him.

“You are telling me the truth, right?” he questioned, turning to me, a look of suspicion on his face. “You’re not another Pokemon doing that for attention?”

“I’m not,” I hastily responded. It was true for one of his questions, at least.

His expression changed to a more neutral one. “Ok. I don’t want to have to deal with more people keeping secrets from me.” He turned back towards the setting sun.

He muttered, “Hopefully dad won’t be too harsh once I’m home.” I decided not to comment.

This lie couldn’t end well.

Soon, we reached the hilltop, and the view beyond became clear. I gawked at what was on the other side.

There was a massive clearing in the middle of an even more massive forest down below. In it, there was what looked like buildings, and tiny specks migrating from place to place. The entire area was shrouded in a light layer of fog. Was this Overcast Village?

I wasn’t left with much time to process it, as the group continued onwards, down the hill, forcing me to follow them, lest I be left behind.

For a while, silence pervaded through the group, as we descended the hill. It wasn’t until we reached the forest that someone spoke up again.

“Where did you find Saltriv, anyways?” the Meganium asked Burhalla, as we walked along the foggy path.

“They were talking with Gen at the end of the dungeon,” Burhalla answered.

“Really? How long had you two been talking?” the Meganium asked, turning towards Saltriv and myself.

“Not for long. I woke up, Saltriv was there, we just introduced ourselves to each other, then Burhalla arrived,” I answered.

“I just woke up there, and Gen was the first person I saw before Burhalla had found us,” Saltriv corroborated.

The Meganium took a moment to take in this information, then continued onwards.

Soon, the trees cleared up, and the path stopped at a wide stone circle covered in fog.

“Welcome to Overcast Village!” Burhalla announced to me.

Overcast Village

It didn’t seem nearly as big as Goldenrod, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in wonder. I walked towards the center of the circle to get a better look at my surroundings. Right to the left of where the path ended was a bulletin board, filled with posters depicting many Pokemon. A Tyrogue was looking over the papers on it. Next to it, was a large tent in the shape of a Kecleon’s head, underneath which was an assortment of boxes guarded by a Torterra. On the other side of the path was some sort of strange box with many mechanisms on it. Heading away from it was a Pokemon with short arms, a V-shaped head, and a wispy tail, carrying what looked to be its pre-evolution on its head. There were many stone roads leading out of the circle, lined with houses that grew progressively fainter the further into the fog they were. Down one road that a Leafeon was walking across, I could barely see another stone circle like the one I currently stood on.

It wasn’t quite like anything I had seen before. There were so many Pokemon here, and yet I felt so alone.

I was jolted out of my thoughts as Burhalla’s father spoke up. “Time to go home,” he stated, before starting down one of the roads.

“Wait, but-” Burhalla began, but the Typhlosion interrupted him before he could finish.

“No ‘buts’. We’re going home, now,” the large fire-type said, before ushering Burhalla down one of the roads. Burhalla turned towards me with an apologetic expression, and before I could protest, he disappeared into the fog.

Now what? Burhalla had offered to help me out, and now he was gone, at least for the time being.

I looked over towards the remaining members of our group. The Porygon-Z was already heading down the road Burhalla and his father went down, leaving just me, Saltriv, and the Meganium, the latter two of which were conversing with the Torterra under the Kecleon-shaped tent. I heard a loud shout of “Saltriv!” from an unfamiliar voice. Was that the Torterra?

Hopefully Saltriv would be willing to help. Otherwise, I was in trouble.

I walked over towards the tent, and pleaded, “Can I stay with you all for the night? I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Of course! Right, mom?” Saltriv answered almost immediately. I wasn’t expecting a response that quickly.

“We’ll have to discuss it first, but I’ll consider it,” the Meganium responded, causing my expression to fall. “You should have told me soone-”

“They helped heal me when I got poisoned in that dungeon! Please?” Saltriv added.

“Why not?” the voice from before spoke up. I realized it was the Torterra, who was now facing me. “We have enough room, anyways. You helped save Saltriv, we should pay you back somehow.”

“Thanks, dad!” Saltriv exclaimed, their expression full of joy. That Torterra must be their father, then.

“Looks like you can come with us then, Gen,” the Meganium stated, as I felt my mouth form into a smile. I had somewhere to live here now! At least, for tonight. I doubted I’d be able to stay much longer, if I was even still here tomorrow, and didn’t wake up back home.

“Let’s head home. Night is almost upon us.” the Torterra said, exiting the tent. The Meganium started towards a road next to an oddly apple-shaped house. Saltriv and their father followed, and so did I.

We walked down the foggy road for a short while, passing by many Pokemon I did and didn’t recognize, until Saltriv broke the silence. “There’s not as many Pokemon around as I remember.”

“There’s been a lot of disappearances since you’ve been gone. You’ve probably already noticed the Kecleon brothers,” Meganium responded, a twinge of worry noticeable in her voice. “Did Burhalla already tell you about that?”

“He did,” Saltriv answered. “Has it really been months since I...disappeared?”

“Unfortunately, it has been,” Torterra replied. “We can talk more about that tomorrow. Right now, you’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

Eventually, the others stopped, as we came to a house that looked like four massive pumpkins joined together, with gigantic leaves topping two of them, and a tree on top of a third.

“We’re here,” Meganium announced, as the three of them entered a wide doorway, and I quickly followed suit.

Saltriv’s Home

It was quite spacious. To my right, there were entrances to the other rooms. In one corner of the room I was in, on the wall, were several cabinets, with small handles that resembled loops more than anything else. Underneath them was what seemed to be a radio on top of a table, yet no chairs. That’s probably to be expected, though. All the Pokemon that lived here were quadrupedal, and I didn’t know if chairs even existed in this world. The left side of the room held a bookshelf, every shelf filled with a colorful assortment of books, piquing my interest. What kind of literature did Pokemon have? I’d have to check that out later, assuming it was in a language I could read.

“Wait here. I’ll get the guest bed,” Meganium said, before heading into another room, Torterra following after her, leaving me and Saltriv alone.

The silence was quickly broken, as Saltriv spoke up. “You really do have amnesia? You’re not faking it like Burhalla’s dad said?”

“I really do. Barely can remember anything,” I lied, before questioning if I really did need to keep this up. Burhalla was away, I presumably wasn’t in danger anymore, and the topic was right. Plus, Saltriv had memories of that platform, apparently. Maybe if I told them my memories of that place, they’d believe me?

“Not even about being a human or something?” they pressed.

“Nope,” I responded after a few moments. I weighed the odds. At best, Saltriv believes me, doesn’t tell anyone, and can help me get back home. However, it was far more likely that they wouldn’t believe me, especially after what Typhlosion said. Worst case scenario, Saltriv’s family kicks me out, Burhalla is told, and I have no one to help me figure out this world.

“Anything in particular you do remember?” they continued.

“Just my name, and a few other things,” I answered. I couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t worth the potential loss.

“What kinds of things?” they asked.

Before I could get a chance to even think how to respond, Meganium poked her head into the room we were in. “Everything’s all set! This way!” she told us, before turning back around. Saltriv ran after her, and so did I. It wasn’t long before we entered our destination.

It wasn’t nearly as large as the first room of the house, but there was still a great deal within it. On the far side of the room, there were two straw mats, a thin blanket and a pillow beside each. Next to them was a wide, plain-looking box, bursting with an assortment of various items, some I recognized, some I didn’t. Among them was a strange gadget with a screen in the middle, and a glowing blue orb at the top. Was that some kind of Pokedex or something? On the ceiling was an open window, letting the last rays of sunlight for the day shine down upon the left mat.

“Your bed is the one on the right,” Meganium pointed out, as Saltriv rushed into the straw mat on the left, lit by a quickly diminishing amount of sunlight. Those must be the beds, then. They didn’t look very comfortable.

“Get along, you two,” Meganium asked the two of us. “I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“We will!” Saltriv assured. “He saved my life! Of course we’ll get along!”

“Just making sure,” Meganium clarified, before heading out of the room.

I walked over to the unlit mat, dreading what would come next. I braced myself, then flopped onto the bed of straw, finding it...much more comfortable than I expected. Huh.

“You looked like you’ve never seen a bed before!” I heard Saltriv exclaim in bewilderment. “Haven’t you slept at all since you forgot everything?”

“I haven’t. Waking up in that clearing with you is the first thing I remember,” I lied.

“Weird. You should tell me exactly what you do remember! Or you could write it down in a journal! I think I have a spare one somewhere.”

“Can we do that tomorrow?” I pleaded. “I’m tired.”

“Ok! See you tomorrow!” Saltriv cheerfully replied, pulling their blanket over themself with a vine as they laid their head on a pillow.

As I tucked myself in, I thought over everything that had happened today.

There was whatever had happened on that platform in that psychedelic void. There was that mailbox that I put that paper in. What was the deal with that? There also was that really soft bow, that changed colors. Then my reflection turned into an Oshawott, just like I am now. After that was all those Pokemon with shadowy auras, and that note, telling me to save one. Was Saltriv the one I saved? Who wrote that, anyway? Did that have anything to do with what Burhalla said about “going shadowy”? And then there was that terrifying giant hand coming down for me. I’m not sure if I wanted to know what that was. And somehow Saltriv remembered it all? That place had made even less sense than this world did.

Not that this world made much sense, either. I’m somehow an Oshawott now, just like my reflection on that platform. Pokemon lived in towns here, but there were also wild Pokemon, too? Burhalla also did two Embers one after the other back in Twig Woodland. I was almost certain moves couldn’t be used that quickly after each other. There was also that shattering sound once we exited the dungeon. I still had no clue what that was about. Speaking of mystery dungeons, those also didn’t make any sense at all. Something like that happening naturally was an impossibility with the laws of physics as I remembered them.

At least I met Saltriv and Burhalla. They had offered to help me. Saltriv already was, convincing their family to let me stay the night here. I really needed to thank them once I woke up, and Burhalla, too.

They’ve really been a big help so far, even if they might have suspicions that I’m lying.

Why did I even start that lie, anyways? All it’s caused me is trouble, and I can’t come clean now, or I’ll lose Burhalla’s trust, along with likely the trust of everyone else here.

Would they have believed me if I told the truth, though? With there apparently being Pokemon faking being amnesiac humans, not to mention humans being legends here, they probably wouldn’t.

What was the best thing to do?

Was there even a right answer to that?

Why were there Pokemon pretending to have amnesia, anyways? Why was I an Oshawott? Why was I here at all?!

Gah, why was any of this happening?! Why couldn’t I be back home, where things actually made sense?!

What was happening back home, even? Were my family and friends ok? Did they know where I was? Were they trying to find me right now?

I want to go home. I want to go back to my family. I want to go back to the world I know.

I want to wake up back in my bed, like this all never happened.

My final thought before drifting into sleep was hoping that, somehow, despite all evidence to the contrary, this was all just a bad dream.

=======

Goldenrod City

I heard the gambler curse as the fourth card he flipped over was revealed to be a Voltorb. All 930 coins he won during this game were forfeit. I began to shuffle the cards for the next person in line, when the gambler smashed their fist against the table, causing the Doduo near him to flinch.

“Gimme another go! This time I’ll hit the level 8 jackpot!” he demanded. They never learn, do they?

“You’re back down to level 2,” I told him, as I doled out the cards, making sure to lay out the right amount of multipliers and Voltorbs. After I wrote down the multiplier and voltorb sums at the side of each row, I announced, “Begin!”

I paid little attention to his actions, instead glancing towards the empty table to my right. Gen should have been here for his shift hours ago. Where could he be?

I felt a faint buzz from my pocket. It must be closing time, then. I ignored every expletive the gambler spat at me, as I packed up my belongings and headed out the door. Closing up shop wasn’t my job, anyways.

The moment the door shut behind me, I was confronted by a disheveled mess of a man, eyes widened and eyebrows pulled together.

“Spersua! Have you seen Gen at all? You’re his coworker, right?” he questioned. Right. This was Gen’s father.

“Sorry, sir. He hasn’t turned up today. Something happen?” I asked in turn, raising an eyebrow.

All I received in reply was a cry of anguish, as he ran off.

Ok then. That was odd. Something was seriously up with Gen. Maybe I should leave him a message.

I pulled the rectangle out of my pocket, and sent a quick “U ok?” message to Gen. That should put me at ease for now.

I should get home soon. The sun was setting.

I walked down the street from the game corner, past a telephone pole adorned with a poster of a familiar visage.

I stopped, doing a double take. Yep, that was Gen alright, or at least a picture of him. And on a missing poster, too.

Well, this sucked.

Nothing I could do anything about, though.

I began to continue towards home, before a patch of blue caught my eye. A pristine blue bow, lying on the ground. I immediately nabbed it. It was unbelievably soft, more than anything I’ve felt before. I didn’t want to let go of it.

I’ll keep it. It was my favorite color, so no way was I giving it up. Maybe I could sew it on to my shirt collar or something. I bet that would look stylish.

Whoever lost it wasn’t my problem.

Hopefully Gen would turn up soon. Managing Voltorb Flip all by myself was exhausting.

Plus, I did miss him a bit.

[babeyvenus]

Wakanda's Princess

Nakia's pregnant with T'Challa's daughter. What will these two do with the new princess?

Chapter 3: Conflicts

The next day, T'Kia walks around the lab pacing and thinking about what it might be outside of Wakanda. What did she have to prepare for?

Shuri sighed, taking note of her niece's behavior.

"What's wrong? You've been having that expression on your face for a good while.", Shuri asked.

The girl looked up. "Have I?"

Shuri nods. T'Kia frowned as she stopped pacing.

"Well, Baba agreed to let me go with him outside of Wakanda.", she says and she squeals in happiness.

"You're finally getting some family time.", she says. T'Kia smiled.

"I mean, it's nothing like Wakanda but some places there sound amazing.", Shuri says.

T'Kia nods. "Maybe it won't be that bad." She was still nervous. It was sweet of her father to even consider bringing her outside of Wakanda.

After a while of packing up, T'Challa said that they would be there for a few days and that he'd have things to take care of so they'd settled down in a hotel.

Surprisingly, Okoye didn't come with them, as disappointed as T'Kia was. She really liked Okoye, even though she was the last to find out about her despite Nakia's wish for her to train her with urgency.

As T'Kia sat on a King sized bed, she watched as her father paced around, making sure he had all that he needed.

"Okay, you stay here. There will be no reason for you to leave this hotel unless you want to explore nearby. There might be a few places you might like here. Like a… Starbucks.", he said, watching as his daughter's face contorted into confusion.

He sighed and led her to a small, cozy restaurant that smelled like sweet spices.

"What is this place?", T'Kia asked her father.

"Starbucks. Girls like it.", T'Challa said.

T'Kia frowned. The smells were beginning to become louder the more she stayed.

He walked up to a lady in uniform. She smiles and looks flustered. "P-Prince T'Challa! What're you doing here today?", she asks.

T'Kia looked at the woman. She was petite, olive skinned. She looked just a little older than her.

He smiled and placed a 10 dollar bill on the counter.

"I'm here for my daughter. I need to take care of some business with the Avengers, that's all.", he said. She looks at T'Kia, who scoots a bit behind her father, and gets a starry look in her eyes, squealing softly.

"She's so cute, I bet she's got your smile.", she says.

T'Kia looks up at her father as he smiles at her, looking proud for some reason.

The cashier giggles. "What will you have?", she asks.

"A Caramel Mocha, please.", he says. T'Kia starts sniffing and looking around, seeing people avoiding eye contact from the two Wakandans.

"It's on the house.", she says and hands T'Challa a hot cup of the flavor. "I put extra whipped cream and sweeteners in there if you don't like bitterness."

T'Challa thanks the woman and hands the drink to his daughter who sipped it. She paused a bit then kept drinking.

T'Challa smiled, grateful that she liked it.

He led her back up to the room. "If you need anything, you have your Kimoyo beads and room service if you're hungry.", he says.

"And if anyone I see is threatening, I won't hesitate to attack.", T'Kia says. The seriousness from her voice worries him, almost scares him. She was in an unknown territory and he didn't want to make this worse for her.

He sighs. "Just let me know beforehand. Please.", he says and leaves her to her drink.

After she'd gotten finished, she couldn't help but think about what he had said earlier.

"I have some business to take care of with the Avengers."

The avengers? She'd heard of them from the gossip in the city. They were supposed to be defenders. Almost superheroes.

Why couldn't they defend her grandfather…?

She sighed and shook her head. There's nothing she could do but sit there until he came back.

For a while, time passed near 4 before she heard a commotion outside and she squirmed.

Then the sound of banging on her door snapped her out of her nervousness. She tapped her beads, contacting her father. 

"Baba….there's someone at the door….", she whispered.

"You didn't order anything?", he asks suddenly after a few minutes.

"No. I don't know who it is. And I don't plan on finding out.", T'Kia says, backing toward the window.

"Okay, sneak out the window. I'll be there soon.", he says and she finds a way out of the window and looks for where his location is.

Joint Counter Terrorist Center.

She ran over to it, pushing past people who took their sweet time.

As she made it inside, she heard a few voices as she snuck around.

"It's just a matter of time. Our satellites are running facial, biometric, and behavioral pattern scans.", one voice says.

Peeking around a corner, she sees a man walking up to a redheaded woman that is with her father.

"Move, or you will be moved.", he says to her.

T'Challa father frowns. "As entertaining as that would be, I don't have the time for this.", he said, frowning.

She looks at him. "You really think you can find him?", she asked.

"My resources are considerable. And right now, I hardly have the time for this.", he repeats, urgently.

"Yeah, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes… so you could probably do that in about half the time.", the woman said.

He shook his head. "You know where they are."

She shakes her head. "I know someone who does."

T'Kia frowns, having enough of their argument and walks to them.

Her father turned around and looked at her with a shocked look on his face, immediately bringing her in his arms. "Are you okay?"

T'Kia felt relieved as she nodded, glancing at the redheaded woman.

She stared T'Kia down but then lightened up as her face changed from suspicious to realization. "You must be the princess."

T'Kia nods at her.

"Not much of a talker?", she asks the girl.

"She's getting used to being around more people.", T'Challa excuses. "Well, not to those I don't know of.", T'Kia says, bluntly.

T'Challa frowns at her tone. "Manners."

T'Kia was too on edge to care much. She wanted to go home now. A man in a suit rushed up to them. "Barnes has been found.", he says.

"We have to go.", T'Challa says and leads T'Kia to an abandoned airport.

It wasn't safe for her to go back to the airport. Not when someone was trying to get into her room. "Stay here now.", he tells her and goes to change into his suit.

She hears two men talking. One of them was suited into a red metallic, bulky suit and the other was in a silver, metallic, bulky suit. It was the man from before.

T'Challa looks at his daughter and puts a finger to his lips, then runs and jumps over a truck, nearly landing by a man in blue with a huge shield.

"Captain.", Her father nodded at him.

"Your highness.", the man smiles.

"Anyway, Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in. That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?", the man in red said.

"You're after the wrong guy.", Captain said.

"Your judgment is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday.", he countered.

"And there are five more super soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can't.", Captain says tiredly.

T'Kia hears the redheaded woman. "Steve… you know what's about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?"

She hears Tony sigh. "All right, I've run out of patience. Underoos!"

A sudden, lankier figure appears, taking Captain's shield and landing on top of a truck.

He had the mannerisms of an excited little kid. Why was a little kid here?

"Nice job, kid.", Tony says.

"Thanks. Well, I could've stuck the landing a little better. It's just the new suit… Well, it's nothing, Mr. Stark. It's-It's perfect. Thank you.", the boy rambled.

"Yeah, we don't really need to start a conversation.", Tony rolls his eyes.

"Okay. Cap… Captain. Big fan, I'm Spider-Man.", he introduced himself.

"Yeah, we'll talk about it later. Just…", Tony got interrupted by Spiderman again. "Hey, everyone."

Tony sighed and shook his head. "….good job."

"You've been busy.", Captain said.

"And you've been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint. 'Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep… I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.", Tony sighs.

"You did that when you signed.", Captain counters, gruffly.

Tony gets a slight hurt look on his face then frowns. "Alright, We're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us. NOW! Because it's us! Or a squad of J-SOC guys… with no compunction about being impolite. Come on."

T'Kia hid as she heard another person's voice coming from somewhere. "We found it. Their Quinjet's in hangar five, north runway."

What is going on?

T'Challa glanced at where he left his daughter at one last time before charging with his side of the split avengers.

T'Kia becomes frustrated as she watches them charge at each other.

Why is this happening…?

She goes to the side of a wall only to see her father and a man with a vibranium arm at each other's throats.

"I didn't kill your father.", the man says.

"Then why did you run?", her father asks.

T'Kia frowned. T'Challa pulls the man's hand off his neck, then spins him and fly-kicks him backwards. He sprouts claws and aims for the man's neck, but another redheaded woman comes and stops his hand, then waves her arms with red energy, sending her father crashing into a passenger gangway.

"Father!", T'Kia yelled then covered her mouth as the woman looked at her in shock.

The man backs away as the woman walks up to her and T'Kia squares in defense.

"T'Kia, don't!", T'Challa yells but she doesn't move. Instead, she's levitating in the air and thrown somewhere near a few crates, the wind knocked out of her chest.

T'Challa could only watch in shock at the impact, his anger growing as he stood. 

T'Kia groans, trying to get up shakily and frowned as her eyesight is blurry.

She holds her head in pain and sees a giant figure in front of her.

"What in the….?", she felt herself being picked up and saw the figure lifting her up.

"Who are you?", it says.

T'Kia eyes widen from the drastic, intimidating height. She'd never been this height in one area. She was safer in the helicarrier from home. She trusted those.

But this thing.

This… giant. She didn't know what to make of it. She was afraid. She trembled in its hold as she stared into the red eyes of the giant.

"Baba…!!!!", T'Kia yelled for her father. T'Challa's heart raced in panic and anger.

"Hey!! Whoever is that in your hand, let them down, now. And carefully!", Tony shouts angrily.

Is this the outside world grandfather got killed in….? Aunt Shuri said it was wonderful. It's horrible….

"Let my daughter go this instant!!", T'Kia heard her father demand.

"Daughter??", A few voices mutter.

The giant carefully lowered the girl. T'Kia dropped to her knees, dizzy from the rush of blood to her head.

T'Challa runs over to her and checks her for any wounds. He wasn't ready to give her up because she got involved. That's not why he brought her here.

This is what he was trying to avoid. She wasn't ready yet. Neither was he, not for something like this, but he was more experienced in battle than she.

He frowned at the scratch on her face from the impact of earlier. The fight doesn't stop when he gets her to safety near a runway far from the fight and turns around angrily at the rest of the Avengers.

He gives her forehead a kiss before turning back to the adults in front of him, fighting. His eyes set on the man with the metallic arm. He needed to be dealt with.

The fight continued, ending with Tony losing and the avengers did split. The man with the metal arm turned out to be manipulated and mind controlled into killing innocent people.

T'Kia couldn't help but feel remorseful toward the man. She couldn't imagine being mind controlled. How… harsh and scary that could be.

However T'Challa found the man that killed his father. A lot was going through his mind. A decision to kill or to be merciful….

T'Kia moved over to her father, who passed out. She looks over her, checking for any fatal injuries. Once she was done, she placed a hand on her father's shoulder and nudged him awake and took off his mask.

T'Challa's eyes cleared as he saw his daughter. 

"T'Kia….are you alright?", he asks her, hoarsely.

She nods. "I'm okay." She couldn't help, but wallow in her own fearful thoughts. 

What would've happened if she wasn't here….?

Would he have gotten killed as well….?

Her mother was almost never around anymore and Shuri is always working. She doesn't want to stress out her grandmother either….

"T'Kia….?", she hears him whisper, then he reaches a hand up to her face, caressing her cheek as two tears fall out of her eyes angrily.

T'Challa frowns sadly as he watches his daughter cry.

"I'm such an idiot….I should've known this would happen. I would have never let you come here if I would have known you would get hurt.", he says, bringing her into his arms.

His biggest fear of losing her almost happened. He'd just gotten to know her. To lose her all in sudden moments… he couldn't handle it.

He picks her up and carries her into the aircraft and transports them to an icy mountain top.

Now that T'Challa knows Barnes didn't do it, he needed to hunt down the killer himself….the root of all this.

As he exits the helicarrier, he gives T'Kia a look that tells her to stay and she does. T'Challa leaves and follows the sound of a woman's voice.

"You should've seen his little face. Just try, okay? I'm going to bed. I love you.", he hears a female voice coming from Zemo's phone as he sneaks up behind him.

"I almost killed the wrong man.", T'Challa said, glaring at the back of his head.

"Hardly an innocent one.", Zemo replied.

"This is all you wanted? To see them rip each other apart?", T'Challa asks.

The man deletes the voice message. "My father lived outside the city. I thought we would be safe there. My son was excited. He could see the Iron Man from the car window. I told my wife, "Don't worry. They are fighting in the city. We're miles from harm." When the dust cleared… and the screaming stopped. It took me two days until I found their bodies. My father… still holding my wife and son in his arms. And the Avengers?", he scoffed.

"They went home. I knew I couldn't kill them. More powerful men than me have tried. But, if I could get them to kill each other…", he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry about your father. He seemed like a good man. With a dutiful son.", he says, wistfully.

"Vengeance has consumed you. It's consuming them.", T'Challa said, frowning sadly and retracted his claws in his gloves as he thinks of his child. "I am done letting it consume me. Justice will come soon enough."

The man holds a gun and smiles thinly. "Tell that to the dead."

He tries to shoot himself but T'Challa grabs his wrist, quickly pulling it away from his head just before he fires.

"The living are not done with you yet.", T'Challa gruffs.

Zemo received his punishment and Wakanda received justice for their late king. It was… bittersweet. To have the man that killed his father by having others do his dirty work where he couldn't hurt anyone else and the man that actually did it, he's asked for help so he does hurt anyone else…

As the two Wakandans went back to their home, T'Kia sat in silence. Her father was unusually silent, however. And it worried her.

Not only that, but it worried Okoye, who was the one taking them back home, as well. "You shouldn't have been out there. More so, I shouldn't have let you come.", T'Challa speaks up.

T'Kia's eyes widened. "I wanted to. I wanted to help.", she says. T'Challa turns to her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Help? Help with what?"

His face contorted in slight anger, and T'Kia's head lowered. "The only reason you wanted to go was because of that man… wasn't it?", he asked, quietly.

T'Kia didn't respond, but it was enough of a response for him. He couldn't fault her. She went with him for revenge as well as him.

He sighs through his nose and shakes his head. This is what he feared. Letting something so trivial get to her head… She's too young to be thinking about revenge.

He didn't help much. The girl was smart. It was only a matter of time until she would've caught onto the real reason why they were there to begin with.

T'Challa walks up to his daughter and sits next to her. He wasn't angry with her. He couldn't be. None of it was her fault. However… it was gonna take a while for him to accept that his father's death wasn't his fault either.

He wrapped an arm around her, his tension dropping as she melted into his hold. He needed to be there for her and he wasn't.

Right outside the Wakanda Medical Facility, T'Kia waits patiently for her Father to return but it's gotten so late and she was exhausted from everything that happened.

"You sure about this?", two men were talking.

The man with longer black hair smiled sadly. "I can't trust my own mind. So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head I think going back under is the best thing, …for everybody.", he says looking down and goes into a cryo.

The blonde man stands staring through a window, as T'Challa walks towards him. "Thank you for this.", the blonde man said.

"Your friend and my father, they were both victims. If I can help one of them find peace…", T'Challa mumbled off.

"You know, If they find out he's here… they'll come for him.", the man said, looking at his friend. 

T'Challa smirks. "Let them try."

The blonde man looked at him then smiled.

T'Kia watched them both from afar and smiled. It felt so good to be back in Wakanda but she couldn't help but feel bad for each man.

"T'Kia!! You're back!", Shuri exclaims happily and hugs her niece, gathering the attention of the men.

"So, how was it?", she asked.

T'Kia frowned and Shuri's eyes widened a bit. She frowns, "Horrible….?", she asks.

"Not only is it horrible but it's more dangerous than Wakanda is.", T'Kia says but sighs. "I did get to enjoy a drink there so…"

Shuri smiles slightly then looks at her brother.

T'Challa walks up to his daughter and kneels on one knee. "I'm sorry for putting you in danger. I should've kept you somewhere safe."

T'Kia shakes her head. "Anywhere you go, I'll follow. I have to. In order to make sure you don't leave me…"

He frowns sadly. "I won't leave you, I promise."

[pinkdinkydoon]

Bo.rderl.ands INSERT DUMP BELOW 🤠🌾🌇

I do a lot of talking about her on discord so here!!! WARNING. it's a lot.

1. Give a basic run-down of your s/i. What should we know about them right away? 💛🔆

Born and raised only NEAR opportunity, Law (Lici) Waller Marsh (she/he) is looking to aquire at job at Hyperion. She basically ""passes with flying colors"" as Jack puts it. (She was the only person who applied and he desperately needed an assistant) and so she instantly becomes a Head Hyperion Employee. ID card and all. 3 years passes, she quits and becomes a Crimson Raider.

2. What role does your s/i play in canon? Do they have a large role or do they just sort of exist within canon? 🧡📙

She has a decent role in canon. She's ""basically"" second in command in Hyperion and ECHO calls the main group a good handful of times to talk about missions and talk on Jack's behalf. Maya and Zer0 could immediately tell she mostly meant good. Every time she called she'd be like "Hiii Bandits! Law here! Jack's in a meeting right now but! My schedule here says... *pause to read* ... hm. *ahem* lici taunt those stupid vault hunters or your fired I will check your echolog... PFF. He never means that. Alright you guys ready?.... you guys suck balls. Insane skag balls. You're parents are dead and hate you and youre... all ugly and... uhm. I bet your guns are maliwan! Haha! Ok I did it. Check that off the list... good killing vault hunters."

When she joins the team I think she plays a big role in the morality of who they let join, and her previous affiliations. Etc etc.

3. In canon, was your f/o the first person your s/i met? Or did your s/i encounter someone else first? 💫🪐

Yes Jack is the first major character she meets. Regretfully. The two are very quick to get close since jack is very needy CEO. She's hired the day of her interview and he immediately gets her a house in Opportunity so that she's close by. She's adapts to his habits quick. Such as sleeping in his office. What he orders on specfic days, specific moods, specific times. Jack noticed compared to all his other assistants who attempted to go with his flow... she immediately started categorizing and writing and filing her personal mannerisms and memorizing them so she wouldn't get fucking killed. And with that also he adapts with her and she adapts with him. He does small things like slower his pace in walking, starts leaving notes instead of relying on her 100%, gifts in her office. She definitely becomes more violent and normal with killing along with her behavior to other people.

4. Excluding your f/o, does your s/i get along well with anyone else in canon? Is there anyone they don’t like? Is there someone that doesn’t like them? 🐥🏵

Yes. Claptrap for one. A big thing is when they meet they get along instantly and he's part of why she'd able to join the raiders a lot quicker than other people. They bone ONCE, and it automatically gets to his head and every time he talks to anyone abt her. He'll bring it up, and then be normal and be like "yeah we're close friends! She's my FAVORITE MINION!"

Please imagine him talking to lilith about her and she's like "I don't really trust her wi-" "Yeah we boned what about it. But yeah lilith I THINK you should learn to be more accepting"

Another person she gets along well with is Mordecai. When she explains why she quit he's like "I like you" and she's like "I'm a peice of shit." "Idc" the two of them bond a lot of drinks... like apple juice n whiskey, whatevea. They also both like walking! Just normal walking around and it's just. Simply normal.

5. What’s that one thing that your s/i is always associated with? Even if some people aren’t very familiar with them, what’s that one thing your s/i is known for? 🌅🌟

The color yellow. Forever. She is forever the hyperion lady. Think of the statue of liberty for America. She's like that. With how much she did and how much jack advertised himself and her as like the future of pandora.

(I like to think Rhys owns hyperion and atlas. My version says so) And even then she's made such an impact of like. Office work style. Like even entering the office again for the first time since Jack's death they're like "HOLY SHIT THATS LAW." and Rhys is like "damn they barely remember MY name"

Even when she takes rhe yellow out of her outfit after jacks death she's just. Forever stuck with it. Personally Designed gifts are always in yellow. New gun from Marcus for a birthday gift? It's yellow. Plate at dinner with the gang? Yellow plastic. Contact in people's echos? Law 🟨

6. How would your f/o describe your s/i? 🎭🔔

"Law? Shit forgot that was her legal name. Lici, lici, lici. Hm. She's my girl! Shes aaaaa... hardworker. Sometimes she does too much, sometimes she doesn't DO ENOUGH. She needs to find a damn middle ground it's been 3 years- oh! She makes the BEST macadamia nut cookies on pandora, you will have an orgasm. She's ruthless! She funny- not as much as me but she makes me laugh. Hm? .... no we are NOT dating. She's like uhh. My work wife! She does the cooking, the cleaning, the organizing. I make the money. You get it. Hm. She's. She's something. I keep her around cause of it all."

7. Is there anything your s/i is afraid of? Is your s/i usually brave or a coward?✨️🎖

Normally a very straightforward and "brave" mindset. She's very. GET IT DONE NOW RATHER THAN LATER. But a thing she's scared of is absolutely the Warrior, Sirens in general. Not like terrified, but seeing what they do. And knowing lilith doesn't like her and how jack described Angel always keeps her on an edge around them. If Maya were to move wrong she'd take so many steps back. To avoid any of the tales she had be told. Lilith not liking her and her not liking lilith is something that always keeps her on edge too. Any conversation she's basically on the verge of bolting and Roland can absolutely tell.

8. If someone wanted to get closer to your s/i, what would they have to do to attract them? ⚠️🟡

Be named handsome jack....? I don't know. Part of what makes her even think about getting it on with claptrap is his goofiness and his ability to make her laugh. Jack does make her laugh a lot too, but he's also an insane douchebag. It's just a draw of luck. Claptrap got what Jack didn't.

9. What’s your s/i’s ideal date?📔🪙

"Please God I don't want to kill something I just wanna seem like a good person for at least an hour."

"Sweetheart this is pandora."

10. What’s something about your s/i that someone wouldn’t expect from them? 🔅🔱

"You know what handsome Jack's house looks like?"

"It's not a big deal. And we never did anything I just. Slept there."

"No you don't get it. He has a house where he takes ladies and an ACTUAL place."

"Yeah *I know that.* I'm talking about his actual place."

"We don't know where that is."

"................"

"Law te-"

"OH WHATS THAT IS- IS ZER0 CALLING ME?? I HAVE TO GO."

"Zer0 doesn't ta-"

Jack jokes aside. Uhm. Baking is one. For sure. Master baker baby, when she's not killing or organizing shit to lords end. Ask jack he will ramble about her sweets for hours.

11. Would your s/i consider themselves a bad person/evil? Would other characters in canon consider them a bad person/evil? 🪸🌻

Vast majority would call her bad/evil. Jack has the whole good guys mindset he integrated into her and when she realized what she was doing was bad she was like. Ohhhh goddd. And she stayed in that lane for a very long time. I think BL3 is where she's like. Finally accepted as some kinda good guy of sorts although other people would say other wise, which goes back to her impact on pandora w jack. What let's her become good is the Crimson Raiders watching her- allow jack to die. She never made the effort to revive him, but she did weep. But all that mattered is that she let him die. So after that lilith was like "ok she's good. Im leavin" while Maya was like "??? AuGh- shes?? Sobbing can we??" "Nah leave her. She needs to work out her emotions."

12. Is your s/i honest? Is there anything they’ve lied about to other characters in canon? ☀️🫙

She would never lie to jack. She'd withhold information but he'd fine out eventually. One time she lied to him was his AI version of himself. And that was when he asked. "Did you EVER at least touch the vault key. Did you ever consider coming back." And yes she did consider many many times and she just goes. "No. I knew what was right."

Ans to the vault key. A lie to both jack and lilith, she held it once. Despite just abt everyone saying she should never be able to be near it or hold it or anything. She did. And she never told anyone and just thought about the consequences.

13. In a scenario where your s/i never meant your f/o, what would they be doing now? Would much change about them? 🪔☢️

She'd be dead. In a world where she doesn't get the job she attempted to become some kinda vault hunter and would fucking DIE cause she has 0 experience and is NOT that skilled with weapons or pandora as a whole. She is fucked over. Immediately.

Extra Stuff

Law dies inside the handsome jackpot.

I think. Other than the vault hunters there and Tim, I'm dragging Rhys and mordecai into it. She goes FOR Tim n Mox, and then is like "you bozos are coming with me." And mordecai is like "nooooo pleaseee I've been trying to relax this whole time you can't make me do something now." And Rhys is like "anything for ex-hyperion /sarcastic"

So by extension AI jack goes and like yesss time with my gal <- can't even talk to her unless she has the eye contact in. She did not.

And I think she gets 3/4th through it. Before dying to something absolutely stupid. And dying she's like. "Wow. I'm dying in the Handsome Jackpot. A thing I helped fund, build, went too. And now I'm dying in it."

And mordecai is like "NOOO GOD DAMN IT!!! First mission I go on in a long time and law is dying " and Rhys is like "awe. I've heard. A lot of bad things abt her BUT ALSO GOOD THINGS. So this is a lil sad (didn't know her well)"

Ans then ai jack is like "RHYSIE DO SOMETHING????" "erhm I cant." "YES, YOU CAN REVIVE HER, you can HEAL her." "We are way too late for that she's got less than a thirty seconds of life left"

When the mission is over they don't. Take her body at all. It just stays there.

Forever stuck in this "shadow", stuck in this shade of yellow, stuck with a legacy. Stuck as Handsome Jack's Assistant, even as a Crimson Raider. She'll die on that hill, and that hill was hyperion.

Relationships with Characters 🦗🌞

Claptrap: Besties first and foremost. Close in a sense that it started off as a way to piss off jack to, this GUY IS HILARIOUS. I love him so much. fucked ONCE, never again.

Mordecai: Quick to bond over blood wing, realize they have a lot in common. They like just talking in general too. Their rooms are near each other.

Brick: "mordecai likes you, you're good in my book" "👍 thank fuckin god"

Lilith: mutual dislike, but a mutual goal. Although the goal for Law was NOT to kill Jack and just put him out a power. Lilith always has to make it clear that HE NEEDS TO DIE. they clash a lot.

Roland: "you seem terrified of me" "I am." "You don't need to be" they get along fairly well. She's just as devastated his death as she is with angels. Similar closeness.

Tina: helped design her raidefs outfit. Shocker. "YOURE A SERIOUS, and I mean SERIOUS lady-man you gotta luh-luh-let LOOOSE! Show SOME SKIN!!!! CHOP UP! THE HYPERION BUTTON UP!!" "not my button up-" "AGHHHH THE BUTTON UP!!!

Jack: codependent in a kind of way. Jack adores how she works and also didn't realize he was so used to her as a person. That they litteraly still stay in contact even when she switches sides. It's jarring for them both to comprehend. Clearly in love, nothing ever comes of it in their canon. Only a final kiss for Jack's death and then a final kiss from his ai version for her death.

Rhys: "I thought you were a myth hyperion made up to motivate workers to possibly work alongside jack" "No I. I'm very much real. And NOT hyperion anymore." After TFBL and Rhys detachment from the old hyperion. he has this. Odd distaste for. He sees a lot of Jack in her and they both have that witty banter him and Jack had when the AI was more active.

Torgue: "I'm here for buisness reasons" "OK BUT ITD BE COOL IF YOU TESTED SOME OF MY NEW PRODUCTS OUT!!!!!!!!!" ".....ok" and then Jack or lilith are like "why were you there for so long."

Maya: previously mentioned fear of Sirens still there for law but Maya is definitely what makes her more comfortable with them. They get along decently well and Maya just has like. A lot of hope for Law and Law has this admiration for Maya. Mutual appreciation

Zer0: they like building things together. Guns, crafts, etc. But Law also likes finding new emolji faces that they can upload to their face somehow. It's a challenge in a way.

Axton: law sees a little bit of jack in him. And it intimidates her a lil bit seeing that in anyone BUT jack. But axton reluctantly helps her secretly get hyperion/jack posters for her room in sanctuary so she can feel more comfortable. And she's like "thankkkk youuuu" "when you betray us I get the first shot"

Krieg: "MAYAS SO COOL!" "YEAH SHE IS" that's it.

Salvador: steals her guns cause she's hyperion. Has to put them in a locked up thing and like. Do many extra precautions.

Hammerlock: I hate British people /J. Hammerlocke cannot get a single word in without like "shut up you're british" "YOU ARE EX-HYPERION!!!!!!"

Gaige: they have a secret handshake, let it be known

More stuff on Law and Jacks death

Ok that's it. There MIGHT be more. 🪐💫😭