#an engineer friend of her makes them with spare parts once a fit out is done :)

[saisons-en-enfer]

[scoonsalicious]

6.2 Lily

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, toxic plants being manipulative and toxic.

Word Count: Bucky done fucked up.

Previously On...: 2.5k

A/N: Please note: I will be taking a one week break from posting starting on Thursday, May 16th, to focus on writing. I will resume posting on Thursday, May 23rd.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

He was on his way! 

After disconnecting from her call with Bucky, Lily bent down to her front driver’s side tire and, using her car key, pried out the nail she’d run over to ensure it would go flat while she ran the trail. Walking to the edge of the parking lot, she hurled the nail into the woods, getting rid of any evidence that she’d manufactured the current predicament she “accidentally” found herself in.

It didn’t matter if Bucky hadn’t come home from his date last night. Hadn’t told her that he’d even been on a date to begin with. What mattered was that, when Lily had called, Bucky had left the bitch behind and had come running. To her.

And that meant something. 

Right?

Bucky could go out with some slut if he wanted to, but when Lily had needed him, Bucky had dropped everything to be there for her, and that knowledge made Lily’s insides glow with warmth. She was still his number one girl; she shouldn’t have let herself get worked up over one date that probably didn’t mean anything. Bucky had dated before, and Lily had made sure none of them stuck around for very long. This time wouldn’t be any different.

So, Lily waited. She checked her email, she played some games on her phone, she listened to a podcast. Finally, a little over an hour after she’d hung up with Bucky, she saw one of Tony’s sportscars speed into the parking lot and make its way to the trailhead.

Her heart sank at the thought of Bucky sending Tony Stark to help her in his stead, so it was quite a shock to her system when the car pulled up next to hers, turned its engine off, and Bucky himself stepped out. He wasn’t wearing his usual tshirt and jeans, no– he was wearing a rumpled burgundy button-up, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the first couple of buttons left undone at his neck, and a pair of fitted, black trousers. 

Lily swallowed. His hair was a mess, but she could imagine how put together he must have looked the night before, and that made her stomach twist. He’d made an effort. He’d made a real, genuine effort to dress up for this date that he lied to her about.

“Hey, Lil,” he said, once she got out of her car to meet him. He smiled, but she’d known him long enough to be able to tell when his smiles weren’t genuine, and this one didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey, Jamie,” she said, offering him a fake smile  of her own to hide her distress. “Thank you so much for coming out. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“I’m sure Steve or Sam or anyone from the Compound would have been more than willing to help you out, Lil,” Bucky said as he walked to the back of her car. “Could you pop the trunk for me so I can get your jack and the spare?”

Lily bent her head back inside to unlock the trunk, rolling her eyes as she did so. If she’d wanted someone else to change her tire, she’d have just done it herself. Or, you know, not popped her own tire to begin with. But that was beside the point.

She walked around to the back of the car so she could help Bucky move things around in her trunk to get to her spare. “You’re dressed awfully fancy for a Sunday morning,” she said, watching him out of the side of her eye. “You find God and suddenly decide to start going to church?”

Bucky chuckled. “Something like that,” he said. Lily stole a glance in his direction and caught him smiling softly to himself as he pulled her spare out from the trunk with his vibranium hand. Taking her car jack in the other, he moved around to the driver’s side and began loosening the lug nuts with his left hand. Lily shivered when she considered how strong he was, how much power that one hand contained.

Once all the nuts were loosened, he slid the jack under the frame of the car and began raising it. He was annoyingly efficient at this, Lily thought, and she realized her window of time with him wasn’t as big as she had originally anticipated.

“So, where were you when I called this morning, really?” she asked, leaning up against the side of Tony’s car as she watched him work. She just wanted him to be honest with her. She didn’t think she could take it if he continued to lie.

Bucky stilled in his motions. “I… I, uh, had a date,” he said after a moment.

Lily paused, playing confused. “A date on a Sunday morning?” she asked him. “That’s a really weird—oh.” Bucky left the car suspended on the jack and turned to face her, hands shoved into his pockets, and the guilt in his eyes nearly palpable. 

Good, Lily thought. Let him be guilty, now that he realizes I know he lied to me. “I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone, Jamie,” she said, voice deliberately meek and soft. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Bucky sighed and leaned back against her car. “It’s new,” he said. “Like, really new.”

Good, she thought. This hasn’t been going on for a long time. There was still a good chance she could nip it in the bud before it grew into a real problem. “So, when you said you were out with Sam last night…” She left it hanging in the air. Let him be the one to say the word.

“I lied to you,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Why, Jamie?” she asked him. “I didn’t think we lied to one another.” She thought about the hole she’d punched in her own tire. Well, she didn’t think he lied to her.

“We don’t, Lil,” he said. “I just… It seems like whenever I start seeing someone new, you just…” he paused to consider his words, and Lily started to get nervous. Did he know… did he suspect the things she’d done in the past to keep other girls away from him? He couldn’t. She’d been so careful… “You just form a lot of opinions on them, really quickly,” he said, and she released a breath. He didn’t know anything. She was safe. “I wanted to get to know this girl on my own, without any outside influences, before I decided to find out what everyone else thought about her.”

“I only tell you what I think because I care about you, Jamie,” Lily protested in her gentlest voice. She was going to have to walk a very delicate line here, between stressing her point and sounding sympathetic. “I’m just trying to look out for you, that’s all.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I know you are, and I do appreciate it, but… I want to be able to figure out how I feel about this one before I start soliciting opinions about her from everyone else. Does that make sense?”

It did. Fuck, it did. Usually, Bucky was so eager to talk about the new girls he was dating, to introduce him to his best friends and find out what they thought about her, to get their opinions. If he was reticent this time, it could only mean one, horrible thing:

“You really like this girl, don’t you, Jamie?” Lily asked, trying so hard to keep her voice light, when inside, she felt like she was dying.

Bucky looked up at her. “Yeah, Lil,” he said, his dazzling white smile beaming at her and making her heart stop. “I really do.”

“That’s great,” Lily choked out. She turned back to the trunk of her car, pretending to busy herself with its contents so she didn’t have to look at him. “That’s really great.”

She heard Bucky move around and start working on the tire again. “Not really,” he said, his voice sounding dejected. Lily moved her head around from the back of the trunk to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, a spark of hope coming to life in her chest. 

Bucky let out a long sigh. “I think I might have blown it with her,” he said as he worked to take the flat tire off of her car. 

“Oh no,” Lily said, trying to keep the smile out of her voice. Maybe she wouldn’t have to do anything, afterall. Maybe Bucky had managed to fuck it up on his own. “What happened?”

Bucky was silent for a moment as he replaced the tire with ease. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said eventually. “Let’s just say that we left things very… ambiguously. I asked her if I could call her later, she didn’t really give me an answer either way. Just kind of shrugged. If she wanted me to call her, she would have just said so, right?”

Lily felt her stomach do a happy flip, but she put on a fake pout. “Oh, Jamie,” she said, fake sympathy oozing over her words, “please don’t tell me she’s playing mind games like that with you already! If a girl wants you to call her, she’ll tell you to call her, not play hard to get.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Bucky said defensively as he began re-tightening the lugnuts on the tire. “I just… I did something she didn’t like, is all. And she’s probably rightly pissed about it.”

Lily walked around the car to stand next to him as he finished up. “I don’t think I like this, Jamie,” she said cautiously. “You’ve barely started dating this girl, and already she thinks she can dictate your actions? That doesn’t seem healthy to me, at all.”

Bucky stood, running a hand across his face. “Nah, Lil– you’re… you’re getting it twisted. I made a mistake. I know I did, and she’s got every right to be mad at me about it. I need to talk to her, to sort it out.” Lily was losing ground; thankfully, she’d come prepared.

“Listen, Jamie,” she said, abruptly changing the topic in the hopes of getting his mind off this mysterious skank, “I was planning on having lunch up here today, since it’s so gorgeous out. I probably overdid it when I packed my food. Do you want to join me?”

Bucky heaved a sigh and looked like he was about to decline.

“Consider it my way of saying ‘thank you’ for you coming all the way out here to rescue me,” she added, knowing that she was laying it on thick, but not wanting him to walk away. “Come on, we’ll make a picnic of it. It’ll be fun!”

“Yeah, alright,” Bucky said, letting a smile cross his face. “I could eat.”

Bucky Barnes always did have a soft spot for a damsel in distress. With a grin, Lily opened the backseat of her car and pulled out the cooler she’d preemptively packed in the hope that just such an opportunity would arise. Lily was nothing if not prepared. 

Bucky reached for it. “Here, let me,” he said, taking it from her. Lily smiled to herself as she reached back into the car to pull out the picnic blanket she’d packed. 

“Such a gentleman,” she said as she closed the car door and led Bucky down one of the trails. It was a gorgeous late-summer day, and Lily could almost convince herself they were on a real date together. Almost. God, what she wouldn’t give for this to be the real thing. 

After they’d walked for about fifteen minutes, Lily veered left off of the trail and into the woods. “You bringing me back here to kill me?” Bucky asked in a playful tone as he followed her with the cooler.

“Yup,” Lily teased right back. “I definitely have faith in my ability to take out a super soldier on my own.” Her heart swelled when she was rewarded with an amused chuckle from Bucky. 

Soon, they reached her destination: a cozy clearing that sat along the bank of a creek that ran through the park, with a small waterfall that fed a crystal clear pool below.

“This is nice,” Bucky said, coming up behind Lily as she fanned out the blanket. “How’d you find this spot?”

Lily sat down and reached to take the cooler from Bucky, beckoning him to join her. “I was scouting some potential off-trail runs for the recruits and just kind of stumbled upon it,” she told him. She opened up the cooler and began taking out the food she’d brought– all of Bucky’s favorites.

Bucky nodded, then looked at the spread with wide eyes. “You packed all of this for yourself, Lil?”

Lily felt a slight blush creep up her cheeks– she had not, in fact, packed it all for herself, but specifically in the hope that he would end up joining her, though he could never know that. “I guess I just overestimated how hungry I’d be after my run,” she told him as she handed him a bottle of water. “Thanks for joining me so that all this food doesn’t go to waste.”

“No problem,” he said as he began to tear into the food she’d brought. “Thanks for getting a flat tire, I guess,” he added with a laugh.

They ate amicably, making small talk about their upcoming plans for the week, and how Lily’s latest batch of recruits looked. Lily was itching to ask Bucky more about his mystery date, to find out who she was, if she was someone Lily knew; but she didn’t want to bring it up– the less Bucky talked about her, the more likely he was to just forget about her all together, right? Especially if he’d done something to piss her off. Better to keep him distracted so that the window of opportunity for any reconciliation closed without him noticing it.

Soon, the food was gone, the sun high in the sky. Lily and Bucky both lay back on the picnic blanket, staring lazily up into the blue sky. “We should do something today,” Lily suggested, trying not to sound too eager.

Bucky chuckled. “Aren’t we doing something now, Lil?” he asked.

She playfully shoved his shoulder. “Later, I mean. Like, we’re having a good time; we should continue it. Go somewhere nice for dinner, do something after, like go to a club or see a show or something. Make a whole ���friend-date’ night out of it!” Anything, she thought to herself. I’ll do anything, as long as I’m doing it with you. And who knew what could happen in the right romantic setting?

“Yeah, that sounds like it could be fun,” Bucky mused. “Sure.”

“Really?” Lily couldn’t believe her luck. “Leave all the planning to me, then!” She’d make sure she got a table at the most romantic restaurant she could find, and get them tickets to something steamy that would put Bucky in the right mood… She knew just what dress to wear, to show just enough skin to be tantalizing…

Yes, tonight, things were going to change. Lily could feel it.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[stories-from-peter]

Classic Corvette

True Stories - Classic Corvette

I used to know a young man named Todd. Todd had two great loves in his life - his girlfriend Terri and his classic 1961 Corvette. Terri didn't need much improvement since she worked as a model but the old Corvette had a few parts that needed some attention.

Todd bought the car from a man whose wife had given him an ultimatum - either she or the car had to go. Todd spent much of his spare time patching bodywork, replacing worn parts and carving new wood panels for the interior. A few months into the project the old classic was starting to look pretty good.

All the while Todd was fixing up his classic car there were other events happening that would all tie in together. Todd moved in with his friend John who worked at the stable where Terri kept her horse. It was through the horsey connection that my wife and I came to know Terri and Todd.

My wife Barb worked at a place where one of the other employees was suspected of stealing some horse related equipment. One day when we were at the barn the girl showed up to have a look around. Barb warned everyone to make sure their saddles and other valuables were safely locked away. Terri had a very expensive saddle trimmed in silver that was worth about as much as my car. She put that in the little house that Todd shared with John along with her modeling paraphernalia.

John was working with a young horse one day. The yearling was spooked by something and trapped John against the side of the stall. John climbed up the wall to get away but fell and broke his leg on the concrete floor. After coming back from the hospital John was left wearing a pair of jeans with one leg ripped to fit the cast inside and only one shoe. He managed to hobble around and help with whatever work he could manage.

A week after the broken leg incident a few horses got loose from a corral. Everyone ran to herd them back inside, including John on his crutches. John's little house had an oil burning stove for heat and as John hobbled out the door he neglected to close it. The wind was blowing fairly hard and started the oil stove burning extra hot. It got hot enough to turn the chimney pipe red hot and set the roof on fire.

Being out in the country there was no regular fire department. The local volunteer fire fighters managed to show up in time to water down the ashes of the little house. Of course, John's other shoe and the rest of his clothes were in the house along with Terri's saddle, makeup for modeling and Todd's hand carved wooden panels. That was one very expensive pile of ashes.

Todd started a new set of wood panels and continued patching and fixing the other parts until the old car was ready for painting. While the car was in the paint shop Todd arranged to go in and do some work on the brakes. He left a note that the brakes didn't work but the guys in the paint shop forgot about it when they rolled the car out of the drying room. They managed to push the car into a concrete wall. The front was caved in and had to have all new fiberglass fenders made for it. That meant Todd was without his car for another couple of weeks.

Once the old Corvette was patched up for the second time Todd took it home and bought a new set of very expensive tires. As he was driving back from the tire shop one of the tires blew out and sent the car spinning into the oncoming lane of traffic. Todd was only shaken up by the jackknifed semi that slid into him but the car was bashed up once again.

The insurance company would not replace the hand carved wood panels so Todd set to work making a third set while he waited for the car to come back from the body shop.

Todd got the car back before the wood panels were finished. He decided to complete them outside while he parked the car on a friend's front lawn. The car had been sitting on the lawn for a few hours while Todd was getting ready to install the last wood panel. The car's engine compartment began to emit some smoke and very soon the car was in flames. They managed to extinguish the fire but not before several of the wood panels had burned.

Todd was becoming an expert at hand carving wood panels for his Corvette and was very popular with the owners of the body shop too. The body shop now had a complete set of fiberglass molds for a '61 Corvette.

The work of fixing the burned car took longer than making new body panels so Todd was ready when the car was finished. He installed the body panels at the body shop where they had lots of good firefighting equipment. He headed home for what he hoped would finally be an uneventful journey.

Todd noticed he was low on gas and stopped at the first gas station he saw. This was in the days before self-serve gas was common. The attendant looked a bit inexperienced so Todd cautioned him not to spill any fuel on the car since it had recently been painted. Todd got out of the car to watch the gas jockey and make sure he made no mistakes. The lad was quite interested in the classic car and kept asking questions while Todd kept telling him to watch the filler hose. As the boy pulled the hose out of the filler tube some excess fuel spilled out of the hose and down the side of the car. Todd yelled at the kid to wipe it up. The boy grabbed a rag that had fallen to the ground and rubbed it on the new paint.

Todd lost it and punched the poor kid square on the nose. The boy ran into the office and phoned the police. Todd wasn't about to leave before somebody paid for his scratched paint so he was still there when the police arrived. After Todd explained all the events of the previous year. The police told the gas jockey not to bother them again.

[jojobee2256]

Meeting a Red Hot 2

Some sexual implications

You wake up in your bed with the sheets thrown a bought and your body in some weird yet comfortable position. You were still in your clothes from the night before, and you had a massive hangover. You don't bother checking the time and instead go to take a shower only to realize that only your drunk self coulda made this kind of mess. Ignoring the mess and the fact that you put dirty clothes back on after showering last night, you go to get changed. As you took off your pants, you realize you had over $200 dollars in cash. You decide that you would have to ask Killer what stupid shit you did last night to earn so much money and just pray that naked photos of yourself didn't mysteriously end up on the internet.

After another hot shower and some painkillers, you head out of your room and upstairs towards the living room with a mask on your face. Killer was probably at work since he had several jobs to help pay for your aunts hospital fees. As you turn the corner, you see you loving aunt watching some tv while folding laundry. She had breast cancer and was currently going through treatments that seemed to be working, but it lowered her immune system drastically. This had Killer insisting that he do all the shopping and anything to do with outside of the safety of the house, as well as also made him extremely conscious of anything he may bring into the house. Even you would not leave your room and roam the house without a mask on and a bottle of portable hand sanitizer clipped to your belt loop. The house was even remodeled for her sake.

The old gang came over a few years back along with your family, and all pitched in to make it so that the entire house was specialized for her safety. The second you open the front door, there is the basement stairs that lead to Killer's room, a lounge area, and your room, which was a spare. To the other side of the steps is a bathroom and the garage. Once you go further, you will see the kitchen that opens into a living room along with another bathroom and finally a hall that leads to your aunts private room, bathroom, and study.

"(Y/N)!" Your aunt beams at you from her spot on the couch. "I heard you went a little crazy last night!" OH god. Your aunt may seem nice now but she was actually a part of a biker gang that caused havoc across the country until she got pregnant with Killer, that's when your mom, her sister, took over and even continued on with her travels with your dad until you had to eventually go to school. Apparently, your aunt had a very dangerous birth, and she lost a lot of blood. Ironically, his nickname of Killer is because whenever the gang drives through, they come say hi and ask how the little killer is doing. It was a joke in poor taste, but it fit well with the people sharing it.

"Did I? Cause I woke up with a hangover and 200 bucks in my jeans. I remember nothing." She giggles at you and pats the area of the couch next to her. You sit down and start helping her fold the laundry.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You kept your clothes on and still got money, that's more than I can say when I was your age." She had such a bubbly personality that it's hard to imagine she is the same person as the girl in the photo next to the tv with half her head shaved and piercings in every possible place.

"But... What exactly did I do?" She just smiled at you for a moment. You could tell she was thinking of the best way to tell you, or more like the most embarrassing way. Just as she was about to say something, you hear the engine of a car pulling up front. She lights up and starts moving to the kitchen to prepare some food.

"What perfect timing! Killer and some of his friends are coming over to work on that old Ford in the detached garage. Bring them some food, and maybe it will jog your memory." You see her intentionally reach around the glassware for some plastic dishes she had around for when the more rowdy old friends stopped by for a visit. She quickly grabs some cold sodas from the fridge and sets them on a tray before quickly setting some cookies she always has baking on the plastic plate.

with a small giggle, she hands you the tray before rushing back to watch her show. You knew you were going to regret doing it, but Killer and his friends would rather starve in that damn garage than come in and wash up before going to deep into the house. You sigh and head to the garage door. Most of the time, it was open and filled with tools. The detached garage was just a few feet from it and was decked out in heavy machinery needed to work on a car as if in a professional environment. You could hear them as you exited the house. They seemed to be arguing.

"Dude, she was so drunk she is still asleep! I know you're the type to flirt and then leave them high and dry, but not with my cousin!" Killer seemed upset beyond belief, and he was talking about you. What the hell did you do?

"Flirt and leave? You're joking, right? If anything, she was the one to do that." A rough voice argued back, and you had a horrible feeling that you knew this voice.

You finally get close enough to see the usual group Killer hangs out with, and as soon as your eyes connect with your secret crush, you drop the tray of food and drinks. It all came rushing back, and you could only stare at him wide-eyed for a moment.

"Fuck me." You sigh and mutter to yourself in disbelief. Your aunt was right, you kept your clothes on, but if you didn't hear Killer and snap out of it in time would you really be able to still say that?

"Gladly." Your head shoots up from its place of looking down into the palm of your hand and you notice Killers glare at him. You feel your cheeks burning and you quickly crouch down and gather the spilled food and drinks on the tray before robotically turning around and going straight back inside.

"Bad wording bad wording BAD WORDING!" You keep mumbling to yourself as you do. You hear his chuckle from behind you followed by a loud smack sound. As soon as you get back in your aunt had already prepared another tray with cookies and soda, this time with her normal glassware.

"So you remember yet? Killer said you were dared to kiss Kid." She giggles as she turns to see your face that was probably as red as Kid's hair.

"I remember, but it looks like Killer didn't get the full story after I left." Her already beaming face lights up even more and she sits at the kitchen table and excitedly pats the seat next to her. You trudge over to the chair and sit. "I may have been dared to kiss someone, but they didn't specifically tell me who... I just had to kiss... the hottest guy in the room..." You whisper the last part. She squeals and starts to clap her hands together.

"Oh you are just like me and your mother when we were young! The rough looking ones are always the most fun!" You bang your head on the table and start to moan. None of this helped your slowly returning hang over, especially hitting the table with it, but you didn't care.

"I can't believe I kissed him!" You cover your face. "I mean I liked him since I first saw him, he is the sexy red hot I get the pleasure of having as eye candy, but he's Killer's best friend! You don't just do that!" You hear your aunt giggle again and you move to lift your head up and glare at her. This was not funny, but your plan was interrupted as you saw the same four guys who were suppose to be outside just outside the kitchen with masks and gloves on. This of course included the man himself and your cousin.

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

A Sense of Closure

December 17, 2022

Prompt - Home

Notes - Part two, baby! This part was originally something I planned on using as either the third part or a one-shot, but I changed the plot around to fit as a middle piece and it worked out pretty well. If you'd like to see the original plot, I would love to write it out after I'm done with my next project.

Despite the many flights that Miles had been on going to and from New Hampshire where his nerves stayed minimal and he could get by with listening to music or watching a movie, the nearly three-hour flight to his hometown of Myrtle Beach had Miles worrying that he’d be scrubbing his lunch out of the expensively upholstered seats. Carrie’s words or reassurance did little to quell the rollercoaster of emotions inside of him, but the grip she had on his hand and the gentle circles she pressed into his skin distracted him at least a little. Every now and then, he would spare a glance at his siblings and their friend, watching the trio gab on and on about something he couldn’t hear over the plane’s engines and the thumping of his heart in his ears. As soon as the pilot announced they were landing in Myrtle Beach, time seemed to slow down for Miles. Why had he agreed to join them? Why did he think he would be able to do this? He wasn’t ready for this!

Autopilot kicked in and Miles followed everyone off the plane, taking his bag of things he didn’t even remember packing and making sure his brothers were following him before stepping out of the plane and onto the tarmac. The ride from the airport was spent listening to everyone else talk as Miles looked out the window, trying to pinpoint where they were in relation to their old house. The city he knew had changed drastically in the sixty years since he had last been there, but certain buildings looked familiar. As they pulled to a stop at a red light, Miles felt a tug on his hoodie that roused him from his thoughtless ride.

Royce released Miles’ shirt once his older brother turned to face him, a small smile appearing on the teenager’s face as he pointed at the small store on their left and said, “Look, it’s the Circle K you used to work at.”

Miles raised an eyebrow as he turned to look out the window next to Carrie, but sure enough, the little gas station was still there. It had certainly changed a bit - the building had gotten larger, the pumps had gone from two to four, and the price of gas per gallon had gone from thirty-one cents to almost three dollars, but Miles still remembered the days of him and his brothers hanging out behind the counter, getting their homework done and playing blackjack between customers. They would walk home with barely enough money to buy food for the night only to have it confiscated once they walked in the door. If they didn’t hand over the money, chances were Miles would have a black eye the next morning at work, telling the kind old man who ran the shop that he’d been roughed up by people on the way home.

“Can we stop for drinks?” Bentley asked, oblivious to Miles’ thought process.

“Sure,” Mack said with a smile, flicking on her blinker and pulling into the parking lot of the gas station once the line began moving. As soon as the car was parked and people began piling out, Miles slowly slid his way out of the car and sighed. They weren’t even a ten minute walk from their old house.

Vivien huffed as she leaned against the side of the car, pulling her hoodie off over her head and tying it around her waist. “This must be cool for you guys,” she said, turning to Miles with a grin. 

“How so?” he asked in return, faintly hoping he didn’t sound nearly as cold as he thought he did.

Vivien shrugged, “It must be nice to go back to a place you used to live and see how much has changed.”

Miles scanned the intersection as cars flew by in all directions, “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly remember this place all that fondly.” 

“Why not?” the girl asked. “I mean, it’s so close to the beach.”

Miles stilled, looking at the girl with an eyebrow raised. “Did the boys never tell you why we left?”

“Royce hardly ever talks about anything that happened before you guys moved,” Vivien replied with a small chuckle as she turned toward Miles. “I’ve always wondered, though. Why? What happened?”

Vivien’s cheerful gaze dropped as Miles said, “Our dad happened. He was a drunken asshole and we ran away to escape him.”

“Oh,” Vivien muttered, all semblance of curiosity withering away like the petals of a dying flower.

“We used to live just down the road,” Miles continued. “I worked here just to have money for food and lunch money and our dad would take it as soon as he knew I had money. He’d get wasted and throw punches like he was down at the bar.”

Vivien’s eyes widened as she softly asked, “He hit you guys?” 

Miles' nonchalant shrug told Vivien that it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, “Mostly me. I know RJ said it happened to him after I left, but I doubt he ever hit Ben more than once if he ever did in the first place.”

As Vivien slouched against the car, her usually bright eyes glued to the ground, Miles was sure the conversation was over, but as soon as Royce came back to the car and was wrapped in a hug by his girlfriend, he asked his older brother, “What happened?”

With yet another nonchalant shrug, Miles said “We were talking about Dad, that’s all.”

Royce nodded and allowed Vivien to hold him close before whispering to her, “It’s alright.”

Vivien leaned back, taking Royce’s face in her hands before pressing her forehead to his, “He hit you guys. That’s not okay.”

“We’re not there anymore and he’s not around to bother us,” Royce replied. “We’re safe now.”

“He probably doesn’t even exist in this world,” Miles added with a shrug.

“Probably not,” Bentley said as he joined them. “I wonder if our old house is in this world.”

“One way to find out,” Vivien mentioned, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jeans and unlocking it before opening her map. “What’s the address?” Pulling their old, Duffy Street address out of the deep recesses of their brains, the three Murphy brothers recited it in unison, allowing Vivien to type it in as everyone else came out to the car with snacks and drinks in hand. “This says that the address exists, but it doesn’t show what it looks like.”

“Really?” Bentley asked.

“What are you looking for?” Mick questioned.

“Our old place,” Royce answered. “Viv’s phone says that it’s still there.”

To Miles’ dismay, Brady suggested, “Why don’t we drive by and see if anything has changed? Hotel check-in isn’t until three and Vivien doesn’t have to meet her family at the rink for another hour or so.”

Bentley was quick to agree, making his two older brothers reluctantly agree to keep his excitement at bay. Once everyone was piled into the car, Miles gave the instructions as to how to get to their old house and, within a few minutes, they were stopped across the street from their old house. However, it looked different than any of them expected. Grass and weeds cracked through the walkway leading up to the front door, the numbers above the porch that used to showcase their address were long gone, and the once pristine, olive green paint that colored the house was faded and peeling away. Overall, it looked… abandoned.

Brady threw the car in park, allowing the brothers to file out of the car, staring at their old home in shock. Their parents, especially their mother, had designed the house and had it built before Miles was born and took care of it as though it was another one of their children up until their mom’s death. Even though they hadn’t had too many pleasant memories in the house after their dad’s personality did a one-eighty, it still hurt to see the building their mom loved so much looking so decrepit.

As a few of the others followed the brothers out of the car, they took in the crumbling foundation and the overall look of the house with worry. While it was true that the Murphy brothers hadn’t actually grown up in that specific house, the three pairs of eyes filled with sorrow were enough to make the others present feel just as remorseful. Oddly enough, Miles was the first to break away from the group, venturing across the empty street to the house he used to call home. Bentley latched onto Royce’s hand before dragging him across the street, Royce’s free hand taking hold of Vivien's sleeve as they walked.

While some of the others followed them to the house, Vivien’s gaze flickered over the dusty windows and weathered brickwork that formed the front porch. “It’s definitely abandoned,” she spoke as she stepped onto the porch behind the brothers.

Miles sighed, “I never thought I’d see it like this.”

Bentley attempted to peek into the house through the picture window next to the door, but the dust that had settled on the window mingled with the fact that the curtains were blocking any prospective peepers, he couldn’t see much of anything. “I can’t tell what it looks like inside.”

With a hum, Royce tapped a thoughtful finger to his lips, “I wonder if any of the windows are open. Maybe one of us could climb inside and unlock the door.”

As the three brothers began devising a plan to break into their family home, Vivien took one look at the front door and snickered, rolling her eyes as she tapped the flimsy, plastic, doggy door with the toe of her sneaker. “Rookies,” she sighed under her breath. Vivien pulled her hoodie away from her waist and knelt on the porch, placing her hoodie on the wooden floor just beyond the heavy, oak door before climbing inside the house through the significantly smaller, plastic door. Once Vivien was inside the house, she dusted herself off with a sigh, grabbing her hoodie from the floor and wrapping it around her waist once more before sparing a look around the house. 

Looking around the house was like stepping back in time. Vivien had only experienced the sixties over the last summer, but the furniture and overall aesthetic of the house made the brunette feel as though she had somehow stepped through a portal and ended up back in the beach-side, Florida town. Bright colors accented the otherwise cream-colored room, mid-century style decorations made the room feel dated but also welcoming, and hand-painted artwork still clinging to the walls by little pieces of tape and thumbtacks gave the house a lived-in feel, but the colder temperature and almost damp smell were an obvious tell that nobody had lived in the house in years, perhaps even decades.

Vivien’s nose crinkled as she looked around, but a thump on the door dragged her out of her thoughts. Twisting the deadbolt and unlocking the handle, Vivien pulled open the door and sent the three awaiting men a hesitant look. “This place was abandoned ages ago. Are you sure you want to come in?”

Bentley turned to Royce who, in turn, glanced at Miles. The oldest of the brothers took in a deep breath and nodded, “Let’s do it.”

With a small nod, Vivien held the door open and stepped aside, allowing the brothers into the old abode. Once everyone was inside, Vivien closed the door, watching as everyone seemed to linger in the living room. Bentley was the first to truly begin examining the house, pointing out how the house looked in comparison to how he’d last seen it. While Miles and Royce seemed more hesitant to explore the place that looked so similar to the house they had run away from, they eventually split off to look around. Vivien wandered the house in wonder, looking around the closest thing to her boyfriend’s old home that she would ever get to see. The house’s style was certainly outdated, but it suited the time period they were from. 

Upon exploring the kitchen, Vivien was mildly surprised to find lines of old, glass, alcohol bottles had been placed across the counter with a thick layer of dust settled on them. Perhaps whoever had lived in the house suffered from the same addiction the Murphy brothers' father had. The refrigerator still had childlike artwork clinging to it by little magnets, the signature in the bottom corners too faded for Vivien to read, but the art itself still vibrantly present. As Vivien circled the dining table, emerald eyes caught a glimpse of a thick envelope tucked underneath a piece of folded leather. The seventeen-year-old’s experience investigating abandoned buildings told her to leave well enough alone and to ignore the items, but her curiosity over where they were and the connection her friends had to the building won over as she picked up the peeling leather wallet.

Vivien only intended to check for any information as to who the wallet belonged to, but the thickness of the back fold led her to discover a thick stack of cash in varying amounts. The brunette glanced around, making sure nobody else could see the wallet as she closed it and set it back down on the table, taking the envelope instead. After wiping the front of the envelope against her jeans to rid it of the dust, Vivien’s eyes widened at what was scrawled across the white paper faded, rigid letters. It couldn’t possibly be right. She pulled her glasses off and swiped the lenses across her shirt before placing them back on the bridge of her nose. Nope, it was still there. It didn’t make sense! How on earth was it possible? By all accounts, it shouldn’t have been possible, yet there it was, staring her in the face. Seven words in faded pencil that, if they were real, had probably been written long before she was even born. 

‘To my sons, Miles, Royce, and Bentley.’

Vivien debated on what to do, but eventually came to the conclusion that she had to tell her boyfriend and his brothers. Vivien tapped the envelope against her fingertips before taking a deep breath and heading toward the living room. The only person there was Butchy who was busy examining the books on the shelves. Glancing past the couch to where the boys had gathered in another room that must have been one of their bedrooms, Vivien crossed the living room and tapped on Butch’s arm. Butchy smiled at the younger girl, “There’s the little criminal. You know, breaking and entering is a jailable offense.”

��Maybe,” Vivien agreed, “but just entering isn’t.”

“I’ll give you that,” Butchy chuckled. Glancing at the envelope grasped in the girl’s trembling fingers, Butchy sent Vivien a quizzical look, “What’s that?”

Vivien glanced over her shoulder before lowering her voice and holding out the old envelope, “I found it on the kitchen table with a wallet, but I didn’t want to open it.”

Taking the white package from the teenager, Butchy opened it to find a thick stack of paper. At the bottom of the last page was a signature he doubted the Murphy brothers wanted to see. “Did you tell them yet?”

With a shake of her head, Vivien said, “I just found it. Do you think we should give it to them?”

Folding the papers back up and putting them back into the envelope, Butchy peered over Vivien’s shoulder at where Miles was sitting on the end of a bed, an old notebook in hand as he showed Carrie and Mick what was in it. Bentley and Royce were too busy showing Lela things they had found to notice the stare directed their way, but Miles was quick to sense the pair of eyes focused on him. As soon as Miles’ confused gaze met Butchy’s, the older biker gestured for him to come out to the living room.

“We don’t have much of a choice now,” Butchy muttered, bringing an arm around Vivien’s shoulders as Miles approached them, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“What’s going on?” Miles asked the pair, the small smile on his face disappearing as he took in their expressions. “Is everything okay?”

Butchy held the envelope out for Miles to take as Vivien said, “I found this on the kitchen table. It says it’s for you, Royce, and Bentley.”

Icy blue eyes flickered between the envelope and the other two people in the room before Miles accepted the papers. On the front was a style of writing Miles knew all too well after years of forging the signature for field trips and checks he had to send out in the mail so the gas company wouldn’t shut off their hot water. “It’s our father’s handwriting.”

Seeing the hesitant, almost wary look in Miles’ eyes, Butchy asked, “Are you sure you want to read it?”

Miles shook his head, “No, but I should.”

“I can read it for you, if you want,” Butchy offered, placing a hand on Miles’ arm. Miles contemplated the idea for a while before handing the envelope back to Butchy. Butchy nodded slowly, nudging Miles toward the couch as he said, “Alright. Do you want the boys to hear it too?” Miles was quick to shake his head. He didn’t want them to know what their father had written until he knew there was nothing in the letters that he should keep from them. “Okay. Go sit down. I’ll be over in a minute.”

As Miles wordlessly headed toward the kitchen, making his way through the living room with practiced ease, Butchy turned his attention to Vivien who watched Miles with concern. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked in a whisper.

“He'll be fine.”

Although Vivien desperately wanted to believe the older man’s words, she wasn’t even sure if he believed them himself. Green eyes met brown as Vivien crossed an arm around herself, the other playing with the chain of her necklace. “I should’ve hidden that letter and left everything alone.”

Butchy sighed, placing his hands on the girl’s shoulders as he moved in front of her, “Don’t beat yourself up, Vivien. This might be something he needs to hear.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“We’ll be there for him and the boys.” Butchy watched Vivien’s gaze flicker toward the room everyone else had congregated in. “For now, go keep them occupied. I’ll handle this with Miles and then I’ll let you know when the coast is clear, alright?”

Reluctantly, Vivien nodded, her eyes flicking between Butchy, the kitchen, and the other room as Butchy stepped aside. Butchy watched Vivien disappear into the other room, hearing her instantly get pulled into a conversation as he took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen. Miles was already sitting at the dining table, presumably in the same spot he always took growing up and, as Butchy dropped into the chair next to him, the younger biker met his friend’s gaze. “Thanks for doing this, Butch.”

“I told you from the beginning that I’m here for you no matter what,” Butchy replied. “You need me, I’m there.”

Miles nodded, more to himself than to Butchy. “What if I want to stop at some point?”

“Then we stop, simple as that.”

Taking in a deep, prolonged breath, Miles glanced at the letter before muttering, “Let’s start before I change my mind, then.”

Butchy grinned, placing a hand on Miles’ back for a moment before pulling out the letters and beginning to read, “‘Boys, in the off-chance that you’ve come back home, I wanted to leave you this letter so you know everything I never got the chance to say.’”

“He didn’t say much at all when he was hammered,” Miles scoffed.

Ignoring Miles’ statement, Butchy continued, “‘I wasn’t the father you three deserved, especially after what happened with your Mama. You three lost a mother that day and I lost the love of my life, but you three handled it with the grace only she could’ve given you. I broke and turned into a beast.’” Another scoff from Miles interrupted Butchy’s reading, but it didn’t stop him from continuing, “‘Your mother gave me the best gifts in the world and I treated you all so horribly. I didn’t deserve you boys and you didn’t deserve me as a father. I know I should have let you stay with your grandparents or with Thomas when they asked, but I had already lost your mother and I couldn’t imagine losing you three too.’”

Butchy spared Miles a glance, watching the brunette drive his hands into his hair as he breathed, “We could’ve lived with our mom’s family and he didn’t let us?”

“I know you don’t want to, but try to think of it from his perspective,” Butchy attempted as he placed the first page down on the table. “His wife had passed away and you three were all he had. It was probably something they offered early on and he was scared of losing you three.”

Miles’ gaze followed the faded scuff marks on the kitchen table as he thought over Butchy’s words. Instead of commenting further, he closed his eyes, shook his head, and said, “Let’s just keep going.”

Butchy shook his head and sighed, “Alright.” After clearing his throat, he read, “'I know this won’t mean much to you now, but I’ve been seeking advice on my drinking since just after Miles left home. It worked a little at first, but I was so far down the path that it was hard to turn back. Even though it didn’t look like it, I started getting serious about quitting. I was at a meeting the day Royce and Bentley took off. I came home to their note on the coffee table the same day I came back with my five-month sobriety chip.’”

“Oh, yeah?” Miles scoffed rhetorically. “Wonder where he was hiding those.”

Butchy’s eyes scanned the paper he was holding before he set the few papers down and reached for the wallet on the table, opening the flap in the front and dumping the coins out. There weren’t many, but the furthest along was two years. As Miles examined the cheaply made coins, Butchy scanned over the rest of the papers that had been left in the envelope. He skimmed a few pages and set some aside before getting to the more personal messages that had been left. 

“‘Bentley, I hope that you become an artist of some kind. You certainly don’t get that talent from me, but I know how great you are, even though you’re so young. You’ll far exceed everyone’s expectations. As for Royce, I’m sure you’ll be a famous novelist someday. You boys got a lot from your mother’s side of the family and your way with words is definitely not from me, so take pride in it. I have no doubt you boys will be great regardless of what you do in life. Like your mother used to say: if you follow your heart, you’ll fly further than the moon.’”

Miles eyed the paper, a barely noticeable grin appearing on his face as he said, “I still tell the boys that.”

“I’m sure they appreciate that,” Butchy said.

“I know they do,” Miles replied with a nod, the tension in his shoulders releasing as he took in a deep breath. “You can keep going.”

Butchy smiled and began reading again, glad that Miles was more open to the words now that he knew how positive they had been, “‘Miles, I hope you’re taking good care of yourself and the boys. Show them the love that I wish I had. I will forever be proud of you for stepping up and taking charge when I failed to do so. You would have made a great soldier, but I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, especially one of my boys. Take a different path than I did. Find someone who makes you as happy as your mother made me, pop out a few kids or get a couple dogs, and love them more than anything. Just make sure that you’re happy. You deserve it after all the shit I put you through.’”

Miles took in a long breath, his eyes locked on the paper in Butchy’s hands, following every word on the page as it was said. Butchy paused in his reading, keeping an eye on Miles as the younger man slowly sat straighter and asked, “Is there anything else?”

Butchy placed the paper down, only one page remaining in his hands. “This is it. You want me to read it?”

Miles shrugged, “We’ve come this far.”

“Alright,” Butchy said softly, returning his gaze to the paper. “‘You three always had each other’s backs, even when I didn’t. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish you three would walk back through the front door, but that day will probably only come when I’m no longer here. I’ve come to terms with that. I’ve come to terms with my death. It’s inevitable at this point. Even though I stopped drinking a long time ago, that doesn’t cure every other illness that comes along. Liver failure is a bitch, but I’ll go on my own terms. I left money for you in my wallet. It’s all of the money I would have spent on alcohol since I quit. You were the reason I quit, so it only makes sense for me to give it to you now. Maybe someday I’ll be able to see you again, watch over you just like your mother does. I’ll be with her soon enough. Your mom and I will be proud of you three no matter what happens. Take care of yourselves and remember to never let anything drive you apart. I love you, boys. Always.'”

Once Butchy set the papers down and restacked them, Miles pulled them to him and slid them back into the envelope they had been in. For a while, they sat in silence, Miles staring off into space while Butchy tried to gauge his friend’s reaction. Then, to break the silence they had created, Butchy put a hand on Miles’ shoulder and asked, “Are you alright?”

Instead of answering immediately, a lie rolling off his tongue with relative ease, Miles seemed to genuinely think before answering, “No, but I will be.” Finally meeting Butchy’s gaze, Miles smiled, “It’s nice to hear even though it’s not coming from my dad. I mean, I guess it is, in a way, but it just doesn’t feel like it is... I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

Butchy chuckled, “It does.”

As the pair rose from their chairs and Miles tucked the envelope into the pocket of his jean jacket, a head of blonde hair poked around the corner. Bentley’s smile beamed brighter than any lightbulb as he declared, “RJ and I found Mama’s art set!”

“That’s great, Ben,” Miles claimed with a smile. “Are you keeping it?”

“I was just going to ask if I could,” Bentley laughed. “Does that mean I can?”

“If you can fit it in the van.”

A mischievous giggle was the only response Miles got as Bentley took off for the other room. Butchy shook his head, “I think you’ve enabled a monster.”

“I think you’re right.”

Leaning against the kitchen counters as Miles pocketed the wallet from the table, Butchy asked, “Are you sure you’re alright, Miles?”

“I think I just need time to register it all,” Miles decided with a shrug, turning to Butchy and tucking his hands in his pockets. “Then, when the time comes, I’ll tell the boys and let them read it for themselves.”

“And if you need help-”

“You’ll be there like you always are,” Miles interrupted with a grin. 

Butchy hummed in agreement as Carrie entered the kitchen with a sigh, “You guys might want to stop them before they shove the whole house into the back end of the car.”

“That bad, huh?” Butchy chuckled.

Carrie glanced over her shoulder before turning back to the men with a hesitant chuckle, “Let’s just say that, if they bring out much more, we’re gonna have to walk to the hotel.”

Mick, one of the supposed “adults” in the house, cackled maniacally in the other room, “Take all of the photo albums! We can use them as blackmail!”

Miles turned to Butchy with a grin, “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Butchy agreed, allowing Miles to lead the way out of the kitchen.

Later rather than sooner, they managed to get everyone out of the house and into the van. Things they didn’t really need, yet wanted to take home had been piled into the trunk and shoved into the gaps between seats, forming a problem they would have to solve when they met up with Vivien’s parents at the sports center. Miles slid the door shut after making sure everyone had their belongings, staring out the window at the house across the street that had, at one point been his home. Although he wouldn’t be returning to it for a long time in any world, he was almost glad to have seen it one last time. It was a sense of closure he didn’t know he was missing. All too soon, the van’s engine roared to life and, within moments, they were leaving Duffy Street and Miles watched his old home fade into the distance for the last time.

[portiaadams]

Meyer and Charlie Smut

I wrote Lanskiano smut. It’s embedded in my Richard Harrow/Clara Thompson story. For those who don’t care about Richard and my OC, here is Charlie and Meyer having a moment

December 31st, 1921

The sound of the engine and the clacking of the train against the rails filled the room, but could not overcome the roaring silence between the room's inhabitants. Charlie adjusted his legs once more, trying to find some way to fit them on the single bed. God damn it, this was a bed for a child not a grown fucking man. The Darmody kid was probably too big for it.  Charlie wasn't sure how long he'd been awake-this time-but it was one of many things really pissing him off.

From the larger bed there was a quick flash of light and then the scent of sulfur and tobacco. "I offered to take that bed," Meyer said after a slow exhale.

"Them shoulders of yours wouldn't have even fit," Charlie groused.

Determining Charlie's mood came as naturally to him as determining the weather before he stepped off his stoop. Certainly, Charlie's moods could be as mercurial as the weather. And at the moment, Charlie's mood registered as stormy.

"Charlie," Meyer began.

"Can it, Meyer," Charlie answered and swung his legs off the bed, stumbling in the dark for his own cigarettes and lighter.

"You are being irrational," Meyer responded.

"That brutto figlio di puttana bastardo was up your ass all night. You enjoyed though, didn't ya?"

Meyer sighed. Charlie acted like he was the only one who wanted. Meyer's first memory was wanting. Wanting enough to eat, wanting a warmer fire, wanting. Those years when his father was gone and he did all a kid could do to keep his mother and siblings fed and warm.

But wanting. Wanting in America was sharper, brighter, different. There was so much more to want. From the moment he stepped off the ship he moved as fast as his little legs would carry him. He moved to learn English, to get out of the classroom full of tiny children and catch up with his peers, he moved to learn the streets and determine how to make money any way he could. He moved as fast as he could because he knew the goal was to leave the Lower East Side behind him. To move fast enough that one day he could even outrun wanting.

But nothing, not a lifetime of yearning for acceptance and security, held a candle to his ever-present need for Charlie. There was no part of him that did not want every part of Charlie. And as much as his wants dictated every carefully crafted move of his life, there was nothing he wanted more than Charlie. In his life, in his office, in his bed. Even if it made no sense. Even if it had no place in his plan.

"He was circling round you like a bitch in heat," Charlie continued.

"The way Gillian Darmody circled around you? The way the chorus girls do?" Meyer snapped back. He spent years, he spent agonizing nights, watching Charlie charm women whose desire for him was as clear as the powder on their faces.

"That's different, and you know it well as me."

"How?"

"They're broads, Meyer! It don't matter like..." Charlie stopped talking, not knowing how to put into words what mattered. They was just broads. They wasn't in his mind like Meyer was. Even Meyer wasn't with him he could still hear the little addin' machine in his head, telling him to be smart. Telling him to think.

Being with those women was like grabbing a dog from a cart and eating it on the street. Scratched the itch of need. Satisfying enough at the moment.

Being with Meyer was different and Meyer damn well knew it. They was friends and they was more and when more changed to be even more...It ain't like people understood their friendship anyway. The Jew and the Italian.  They was supposed to be mortal enemies, not friends for life. Not...whatever they was.

"I gotta keep up appearances," Charlie said because that was also a true thing. He hadn't told Meyer that Clara knew. No need to introduce complications. They was careful. They was always careful. "That's why I can't believe you let the guy get near you like that."

Meyer shook his head. "Charlie, he's married. To Lady Rose. I think he's just an adventurer."

"Yeah. I know what adventure he's after," Charlie responded.

"A man like that..."

"What? You think you ain't good enough for a fonferer like that cercatore d'oro? What, you just good enough for the likes of me, that it?"

The petulance in Charlie's voice was so familiar. "Charlie, come here."

"Mey, I ain't in the mood."

Meyer doubted that. Charlie was rarely not in the mood. "Charlie," he said again.

Charlie heard the gruff tone in Meyer's voice. He was angry, he was still angry, but that tone in Meyer's voice always did the same thing to him. Instinct drove him to Meyer's side.

Didn't mean he wasn't still angry, though. He sat next to Meyer silently. One man wearing an undershirt that buttons with sleeves that come down to his elbows, although the width of his shoulders and upper arms often mean the seams ripped and tore and stretched due to the strain placed upon them. The other man wore the new kind of undershirt-knit, sleeveless, no buttons.

Charlie told Meyer all the time he should switch. Be more modern. But Meyer couldn't quite break away from tradition in some matters.

"There will always be others, won't there, Charlie?" Meyer asks, and even though he knew the answer for a moment he willed Charlie to lie to him. "After all, we'll have to marry one day, won't we?"

"I ain't. Look at Harrow and Clara."

Meyer turned to stare at Charlie. Personally, he thought Harrow had chained himself to a klafte in pearls. But the man seemed to love her. And Clara seemed as happy as he thought her capable of being.

"Harrow seems content enough."

"That ain't the thing, Mey. They love each other. But we all know how this ends. Clara sobbing over a morgue slab with Darmody's brat and a baby or two besides clinging to her. I ain't gonna do that to a woman."

Such a delicate jaw in such a strong face, Meyer thought idly before bringing Charlie's face to his. Charlie didn't fight it, and soon their mouths were finishing the disagreement. Charlie fell first-Charlie always fell first-letting his mouth open and Meyer plunder its depths.

Charlie's mouth tasted of hot honey and something deeper, sweeter, more savory. It was the taste and sensation he spent a lifetime chasing down in penny candy bins and bakeries and sweet shops. Much like with the candy he had kept in his pockets from the first time he had spare pennies, he knew he'd never have enough of it.

It was the sweetness he'd always craved.

The hard, taut muscles of Charlie Luciano's body, the ones that struck fear around the underworld (and occasionally in the upper echelons) of New York went soft and loose as something else grew hard. Without realizing it, Meyer turned Charlie so he was on his knees, his head laying on the soft Irish linen pillowcase embroidered with the ever-present P.

Meyer's left hand drifted over the hard muscles of Charlie's stomach down to the mother of pearl buttons on Charlie's beloved silk boxers. His fingers drifted over the buttons but didn't try to undo them. Instead, he reached down to the impossibly soft skin of Charlie's inner thigh and began drawing lazy circles. His right hand combed through Charlie's thick dark curls before yanking sharply so Charlie had to turn his face to Meyer to save his hair, their faces so close they were breathing in each other's breaths.

"Tell me, Charlie. Tell me why I'm different from Gillian and those broads."

Charlie's breath was hot and fast. "God damn it, Mey. Just touch me."

"Tell me the things I do to you I'll never do to Dennis Malley," Meyer said, his hand cupping over Charlie's bulge momentarily before going back to stroking his inner thigh.

"You do lots of stuff I'd fucking kill anybody else for," Charlie said, knowing they were journeying into uncharted territory. "You knot up my god damn hands with your tie."

Meyer leaned over so his face was against the smooth back of Charlie's neck, wanting to inhale Charlie's scent, wanting to inhale Charlie. "Yes, true. What else," he asked while his hand slid under the paisley silk to caress the very tip of Charlie's cock.

Charlie tried to push his hips into Meyer's fingers but Meyer removed his hand from Charlie's hair and grabbed him around the hips. "Don't even try it," Meyer whispered harshly.

"You put your prick in my mouth and push it in until I choke. You like it when I choke."

True, Meyer thought, because who wouldn't want Charlie on his knees? Who wouldn't want to see those pretty lips wrapped around their cock? He rewarded Charlie with a quick tug that made both of them momentarily forget to breathe.

"You make me grab my own prick and you watch. Sometimes you put your fingers in...god damn it, Meyer, you know where you put your fingers."

For a moment Meyer's hands brushed back against the buttons. What did it matter, he decided, Charlie bought his silk underwear by the gross. He yanked on them so hard that the mother of pearl buttons scattered across the thick antique rug. Filled with a need to feel the silky soft flesh of Charlie's back under the thick fur of his chest he first pushed up Charlie's undershirt until it was wrapped around Charlie's shoulders before Meyer sat back on his own knees to more carefully remove his own underthings. After all, he'd spent good money on them. No need for carelessness.

"For our mutual benefit you should continue," Meyer growled, fighting the urge to have Charlie right now.

Charlie licked his lips. Meyer was leaning over him to grab something from the bag on the floor, causing Meyer's dick to press against his lower back. It gave him some satisfaction to realize Meyer was as hard as he was. He writhed under Meyer and was rewarded by Meyer groaning above him. He heard the sound of glass and the knowledge of what was in Meyer's hand made precum start leaking out of the tip of his dick.

"You put on oil on your fingers and then you put oil on me and sometimes you put oil on my hand so I can rub it on your dick," Charlie finally managed to say.

Meyer's hand was covered with oil as it started massaging the top of Charlie's ass. Charlie groaned as Meyer's fingers slipped into his crack.

The light coming in the edges of the curtains was changing but Meyer was too distracted by the sight in front of him to think about what that meant. He was intoxicated by the scent, sight, and feel of Charlie. "What else?"

The linen of the pillowcase was now being crushed between Charlie's fingers. The fuck if he was going to ruin this moment like a damn kid. "You put me on my side," Charlie continued after taking a deep breath and Meyer moved him so quickly he fell onto his side with a thump.

After positioning Charlie's legs to his liking Meyer continued to let his hand move down.

"You push your fingers inside me," Charlie managed to gasp out as he felt one of Meyer's fingers breach him. "Mey, your fingers are so fucking thick."

Meyer lowered his mouth onto the top of Charlie's shoulders, his own breath coming at an incredibly thick pace, overtaken by the need to taste Charlie's flesh salty and warm under his tongue. Neither man noticed the bedside clock striking six.

Nor did they notice the train was no longer rocking beneath them.

With great care Meyer worked in a second finger and started scissoring, looking for the spot that always made Charlie howl.

Charlie howled. Meyer pressed harder.

"God damn it, Meyer, god damn it..." Charlie pleaded.

"Say it," Meyer begged, his breath hot against Charlie's ear, the game having rebounded until his need was as raw and urgent as Charlie's own.

"I want you, Mey, please," Charlie finally sobbed out. "You fuck me, you fuck me, holy mother of god please just fuck me."

"Charlie, god," Meyer breathed out, his heart hammering in his chest.

The words falling from Charlie's mouth dissolved into nonsense. For a moment their faces were pressed together, letting Meyer feel the pulse in Charlie's temple in the bones of his own face.

Once more Meyer pressed his fingertips against Charlie's jaw and their mouths opened to each other. There was no more dominance or one-upmanship. Instead, there was the slow slide of their mouths melding together until Meyer can no longer determine where he ends and Charlie begins.

One hand gripped Charlie's hip, holding him in place. Meyer could feel the tenseness in Charlie when he first breached him and the pain hit, but after a moment he could feel Charlie's muscles relaxing under his hand.

"I gotta move, tesoro," Meyer finally breathed out.

One of Charlie's hands braced against the soft mossy velvet of the headboard while his other reached back for any part of Meyer he could touch. It didn't matter that Meyer was ever so slowly moving ever deeper inside him. He needed more. He wanted everything.

"Move, libster. Damn it, move," Charlie answered, his hand finally finding Meyer's ass to pull him closer, to pull him further in.

Time lost meaning. Seconds, minutes, hours, days fell away. There was just this. Meyer's hand finally came around to touch Charlie in the way Charlie had wanted since the game began, since time began.

Finally, they fell into the soaked sheets, the ruins of Charlie's underthings trapped beneath them, their legs and hands twisted together, both of them breathless and boneless. Their faces were still pressed together and as Meyer relaxed back into sleep he realized their faces were wet.

He wasn't sure who had cried.

[victoriareyloficlists]

12 April 2021 Additions to Reylo Fluff

These fics have been added to the Fluff lists located in the following lists:

Fluff Part 1 Titles A-G

Fluff Part 2 Titles H-M

Fluff Part 3 Titles N-S

Fluff Part 4 Titlez T-Z

Zombie Run by OptimisticBeth (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: During a charity run, Rey is relentlessly pursued by a zombie.) The Road Taken by gogoburritos (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey pulls a prank on her housemate Ben. She doesn't expect it to turn out so well.) Loose Change by spicytofuuuu (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: "I ate your pizza. It was a desperate move. I'm sorry. Not proud of myself. Here is $4." An Oh-My-God-They-Were-Roommates, They-Have-One-Single-Shared-Brain-Cell fic.) just say you love me by darthswift13 (AO3 2021  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: In which Rey gets drunk on Saturday nights and confesses her true feelings for her roommate Ben, only to forget on Sunday mornings. Will Rey ever be able to confess her feelings when sober?) r/Relationships by elle_reads (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben's new roommate moves in just before a shelter-in-place order is issued. It's just the two of them—and Reddit, of course.) The Sublet by javajunkie (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Rose sublet their spare room to Ben Solo.) Knock Me Down by commandercrouton (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben gets a concussion thanks to Rey.) Love in the Language of Sweaters by SaintHeretical (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Corporate executive Ben Solo mocks holiday sweaters until he sees the delivery girl wear them.) You Need a Tutor by castles_and_crowns (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, 28 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is an engineering student who finds herself struggling with calculus. Desperate, she goes to the math tutoring center on campus for help. Meanwhile, Ben Solo is a grad student who's required to work a certain amount of hours in the math tutoring center. When Ben reluctantly offers to help Rey with her work, a relationship forms between them that neither are expecting.) Five Times That Ben Saved Rey's Valentine's Day & How She Forever Saved His by AnneAnna (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben makes a confession in his wedding speech: He knew he was going to marry Rey when he and Rey were 4 years old and she gave him a Valentine she made and colored herself. And 21 years later, he still has that Valentine.) Newspaper Hearts by Celia_and (AO3 2021  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: “She made her Valentine’s cards. She tore hearts out of newspaper and glued them onto used envelopes and painstakingly wrote each child’s name. She probably spent days making them. And you know what she wrote on mine?” He doesn’t need to read it to know what it says, so he looks down at her instead, and the hand on her heart and the tears in her eyes. “Ben: You are OK. Rey.”) When the party ends by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey gets wasted at a frat party. Ben finds her, puts her in his room, where she's safe. Rey wakes in the morning after Ben comes out of the shower and nakedness ensues.) Fleeced by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: AU where Rey is a mechanic and Ben is her grumpy client. Ben is car shopping and asks her to pretend to be his girlfriend so the dealer won't screw him over.) My Sandwich by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Someone took Ben's turkey sandwich at work, he is infuriated and eager for revenge, until he finds out it was Rey then those feelings no longer exist.) Sleepyhead by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben, a mere himbo, tucks a stray hair behind Rey's ear in class. He knows he deserves the hot coffee in her hand to be thrown in his face and yet he gets a date. ) When You Know It by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben finds out his roommate Rey has never had someone to celebrate valentine's with, so he sends her 25 roses, one for every year she's been alone, in attempt to make her feel better.) Port in the storm by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey pretends to be afraid of thunderstorms so she has an excuse to sleep next to Ben. Ben figures it out when he races home early after seeing thunder, fearing Rey will be crying alone curled up in a ball, only to find her totally chill and eating ice cream.) Neighborly by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and her son move into a new apartment and meets her new neighbor Ben and his cute dog.) Tinder and Cinder by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey joins tinder after a long long dry spell due to her flatmate Kylo's derision, they argue about why and in a fit of jealousy Kylo screams out 'use me instead.') Traditions gotta start somewhere by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Christmas Tree vignettes of Rey and Ben over the course of their relationship.) All of my wishes came true with you by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Fantasy AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey works on a wishfarm for Plutt. One day after she's out of wishes, she catches the star of a man who wishes for an end to his loneliness. She pockets it and after a particularly rough day she grants it with herself.) Knot It by MotherofScavengers (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Omega Rey’s heat starts early, the Alpha friend who agreed to assist her is nowhere to be found. When she unexpectedly meets Ben, the delicious smelling Alpha offers his help...and his knot.) It's You by SpaceWaffleHouse (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben and Rey have been costars for years when the time comes for them to film their first kissing scene. Neither of them ever expected their soul marks to appear in the process.) Through the Years by castles_and_crowns (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, 10 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo and Rey Jakkson meet on the playground as children under unusual circumstances and quickly become best friends. This fic follows them through the years, showing glimpses of their friendship as it slowly progresses into something more.) I Hate You by orphan_account (AO3 2018  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben has been in love with Rey for two years and so when she storms into his office he finally decides he can't keep it in any longer.) In Small Packages by DyadamDriver (AO3 2018  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: It was then that Ben realised three things. 1. He had never had a cat in his life. 2. He had no idea what these little things ate. 3. He had a crippling crush on his neighbour.) ignorance of etiquette by blessedreylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Regency AU, Quick Synopsis: Lady Rey Kenobi lives a life of pristine comfort and luxury on her family's estate in Chesire with her parents Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi and Lady Satine Kenobi. When they receive word that an old family friend, Lord Benjamin Solo, is coming to visit, Lady Rey is reminded of how he tormented her as a child. She decides that she will prove herself not the same girl she once was in more ways than one.) heaven in hiding by blessedreylo (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: They say it's impossible for a guy and girl to be "just friends", but Rey and Ben had managed to discredit that throughout their decade long friendship. What they both have is special, that people would often arrive at the conclusion the two were made for each other. He's her safe haven, her rock. She gives him a sense of clarity and direction. Ben and Rey know each other more than anyone ever possibly could. Therefore on Valentine's Day, their friends decided to secretly set them up together on a blind dinner date.) a quiet storm by blessedreylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey gets off to Kylo Ren, a popular audio erotica account online. She hasn’t been on a date in so long until her friend Rose sets her up on a blind date with her boyfriend's coworker, Ben. They seem to be hitting it off and finding that they have a lot in common, but she can’t help but think that he sounds so...familiar.) key to the kingdom by blessedreylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 12 Chapters, Princess Diaries AU, Quick Synopsis: Most girls get a drunk weekend in Vegas for their 21st birthday, but Princess Rey Kenobi gets the chance to rule the country of Alderaan. But the only way she can become Queen is if she marries a man in 30 days, or the throne goes to the selfish (and annoyingly attractive) usurper Lord Benjamin Solo. Will Rey be able to ascend to the throne or will it all just become a royal pain in the ass?) fueled by fire by blessedreylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben annoys the hell out of Rey when he tries to write passive aggressive notes about where she leaves her stuff. Rey pisses Ben off by being loud and picking a fight whenever she wants. Being neighbors for the last five months has been interesting to say the least. Their little rivalry comes to a crescendo when their hate for each other turns into another kind of passion.) 1 April Fool by Maloreiy (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: "Honk! Act like you know me! My name is Ben!" Rey sees the sign on the car when she pulls up to the grocery store, and decides to play along. The giant, surly man, apparently named Ben, is not amused.) when I look to you by blessedreylo (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 7 Chapters, Harry Potter AU, Quick Synopsis: Best friends since Year Three, Gryffindor's Ben Solo and Rey Niima navigate their final year at Hogwarts. When exposed feelings and unrequited romance get in the way of their friendship, they wonder whether they'll survive the school year.) Dreaming of Hope by adamsackleriskyloren83 (AO3 2019  Rated M Complete, 2 Chapters, Canon AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo Ren goes to bed one night only to awaken as Rebel Pilot Ben Solo. Discovering that not only is Rey his wife, but he is also the father of a toddler(s) son/daughter.) Talk Nerdy To Me by andabatae (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Grad student Rey is addicted to watching nature documentaries narrated by the mysterious Kylo Ren. In fact, listening to him recite animal facts is her favorite masturbation inspiration. One day, the poetry class she TAs for has a guest lecturer: Ben Solo, a large, cranky man with gorgeous hair, adorable glasses... and a very compelling voice.) Everything You Are by kereia (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Canon AU, Quick Synopsis: But the thing she loved most of all, the thing that she was downright addicted to, was the way Ben reacted whenever she touched him.) Eggplant Emoji by trasharama (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: A desperate Rey seeks refuge in Poe and Ben's spare bedroom. Ben didn't know she was a girl when he agreed to the roommate trial period--and now she won't stop sexting him? Climb aboard the Smutty McSmuttSmutt train!)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello Steph! First, thank you for everything you do for this fandom!! I don’t know what we would do without you!! ♥️ I am looking to start my first novel length Johnlock fic. I found your list, and was wondering if you had a specific one to recommend to start off with? I’m looking for something that won’t make me too sad (the world does that on its own), and of course, lots of Johnlock!! Any recommendations would be appreciated, thank you!! Sending love!! *hugs*

HI NONNY!

Hmm, this is tough, because Novel Length is anything over 50K words, but some people don’t want to read “novels that short”. So I get a lot of requests for Epic novels over 100K, so like WOOO HOO LOL.

Hmm. How about I give you a few recs varying lengths, based on your requirements, and you can decide how long you want to go, since I list all my word counts on my recs?

First off, for when you become obsessed with the lengthy fics like I am now LOL:

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 3 [MFL’s] (Dec 2020)

Next, here’s something for each range between 50 and 100K+ <3

BUT BEFORE I BEGIN: honourable mention because it IS my fave fic ever, and it fits your criteria minus the length so SORRY but please check it out:

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

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Okay, now the main event, of more-fluff-than-angst:

NOVEL LENGTH NOT-SO-ANGSTY FICS FOR NEWBIES

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w., 14 Ch. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings, Bossy Bottomlock) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family's private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it's time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

Guilty Secrets by Ellipsical (E, 55,086 w., 16 Ch. || Post-TRF, Drumsticks, First Kiss/Time, Love Confession, Self-Sexual-Discovery, Anal, Rimming, Orgasm Denial, Butt Plugs, Cooking, Furniture Sex, Bath Sex, Rimming, Double Penetration, Prostate Massage, Anal Beads, Dancing, Romance, Tantric Edging, Internalized Homophobia, Case as Foreplay, Anal Beads, Tickling, Dancing, Dry Coming, Romance) – John has a prostate exam and discovers something surprising about himself. Experimentation follows. Sherlock wants to help. They're in love. You know the drill.

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,887 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking, Massages, Wet T-Shirt Contest, Group Therapy, Past Loss of Child) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4.

Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

A Cure For Boredom by emmagrant01 (E, 81,665 w., 8 Ch. || Dirty Talk, Threesomes, Light Dom/Sub, Sex Club, Experiments, Anal, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rimming, Cheeking, Double Penetration, Mild Kink, Porn Watching, Voyeurism, Masturbation) – They’d never talked about sex in the year they’d known each other. Well, that wasn’t quite correct: Sherlock had never said a word about sex; John had bemoaned his personal dearth of it on many occasions.

Uphill by scullyseviltwin (E, 84,945 w., 18 Ch. || Olympics AU || Sherlock POV, Skier!Sherlock / Medic!John, Rivalry, 2014 Olympics, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is striving for gold in this, his fourth and final Olympics as a downhill Alpine racer.

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w., 11 Ch. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w., 13 Ch. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w., 19 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate's charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

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Hope you enjoy those!!! <3 PLEASE read them all, though, and THEN READ ALL THE ONES ON THOSE LISTS. Because once you start long fics, you get REALLY INTO THEM. Hah hah <3

[thewildwaffle]

The Prisoner - Part 4

I was on a roll after part 3 and had this cute little scene pop up into my head. Plus, Garn really needed a moment to rest and take a breath, he’s been through a lot these past few days!

Part 1       Part 2        Part 3

The ship was relatively quiet. Or at least as quiet as a ship can be while bumbling around in space. Perhaps the more appropriate description was that the ship was peaceful. Garn decided that he liked peaceful. He wasn’t sure he understood what it was that he was feeling at first, he’d had so few peaceful moments growing up and working under the Syndicate, but once he figured it out, he decided that it was quite agreeable with him. It seemed to be for Porter as well. His smaller human friend had been recovering quickly after their run-in with Maika the assassin back at the Tupiti Space Port. He could now walk on the leg, albeit with a noticeable limp. Thankfully, it hadn’t seemed to affect his bright and energetic personality, much to Garn’s relief.

Right now though, Porter was asleep. As was Embry, the ship’s medic of sorts. During his time on the ship, he’d been able to piece together a bit more information about his new companions. Embry, he’d learned, had never actually received a medical license. She had training but had never finished. When he inquired more as to why, Embry changed the topic and became much more curt with any further additions to the conversation. Porter was a lot more forthcoming with his backstory. The gist of it was that he’d taken part in some big trading agreement with a private Earth organization and a splinter group from the Bartu Sovereignty that went bad. There’d been some illegal business “under the table” as Porter put it, and he’d been set up as the “fall guy”. The fact that he was a weapons expert and many of the illegal going-ons had to do with the criminal trade of experimental weapons only helped solidify his “guilt” to the authorities that cared. Porter had spent a good part of an entire rotation explaining in great detail how he’d talked, bribed, and fought his way out of the hands of bounty hunters, angry crime lords, sneaking under the radar of law enforcement, and in general living life on the run before he stowed away on The Shasta, this ship, where he met Kaya and Tig.

Then there were those two. The elder human and the kloxan’s story were still a mystery to him. All he’d really gotten to know so far was that they’d been part of a Galactic Confederation crew together. Garn didn’t know much about the Galactic Confederation, other they were considered a continual, pestering antagonist of the Trinn-Har’rups. He’d guarded prisoners of the GC captured by the Syndicate before they faced an unknown, though likely grisly, punishment for the crime of standing in the Syndicate’s way.

Garn felt that among the ranks of guards and soldiers, the Galactic Confederation and those that aligned with them were thought of to be pretentious, power-hungry manipulators. He’d always been around that sentiment, so he never questioned it before. He’d had no need to. Now he was on a ship that had two of them as acting captain and first-mate. Granted they were former Galactic Confederation, so maybe that old profile didn’t fit them. After all, he was now a former guard of the Trinn-Har’rup Syndicate, the stigmas tied up with him probably no longer fit so well either.

And anyway, Porter stayed with them, so they couldn’t be so bad.

Garn rose from the small pile of blankets, pillows, and towels that was currently acting as his bed. Porter had Embry help him scour the ship for as many soft fabrics and items that could be spared to make a spot for Garn to sleep until they could install an actual bed for him. It was nice, but he’d never slept on anything so soft before. Comfortable as it was, between the unaccustomed softness and the overall unfamiliarity that surrounded him, he’d had a hard time finding sleep. As carefully and quietly as he could, he made his way out of the sleeping quarters and down the short hall toward the main hangar room he’d been in when he’d first entered the ship.

The ship was old, but he had to admit that it had been well kept and he’d almost say lovingly maintained. He gave a small half-smile as his eyes ran over the designs in and around the ship. They were outdated. He might even call them antiquated. He liked it though. It felt right and… well he wasn’t sure how else to describe it. Inviting? Warm? Graceful? It was… he felt… like he could belong here. And that made him all the happier.

As he shuffled into the main room, he stood for a moment before he sat down on a bench along the wall to continue processing his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there like that, listening to the hum of the ship’s engines and systems when he heard a small quiet grunt to his left. Snapping his eyes open, he searched in the darkness for the source.

His eyes caught a glint of movement from a chair. He felt his fur rise as he instinctively anticipated having to defend himself from an attack. None came though. His brain finally took in what his eyes were trying to see. There was no secret attacker, just human Kaya sitting in a very regal-looking chair. His fur dropped back down and he sighed a breath of relief.

“Sorry I startled you,” Kaya chuckled quietly. Garn could see her shoulders bounce slightly as she shifted in her chair. His eyes ran down her arm. Or where her arm had been. He’d been right earlier that day they’d first met. She hadd stopped what she must have thought was him going to attack Embry. The prosthetic he’d seen her wearing that day and every day since was now no longer attached. Her arm ended just above where her elbow should have been.

After a few tries, he was able to successfully look away. It was hard though. He’d heard humans were capable of surviving attacks or accidents even after losing a limb, but it had seemed like such a far-fetched tale that he wasn’t sure if he’d believed it. The shock alone of having lost a body part was enough to kill many species, but humans, as he now knew, were hardy and stubborn when it came to staying alive and continuing on.

“I… I didn’t realize you were here. I’m sorry I disturbed you,” he murmured as he stood up, feeling like he had intruded on something he shouldn’t have.

“You’re fine, Garn. Sit back down.” It wasn’t a command, it came out softer, like an invitation. He paused and considered that. An invitation. He slowly nodded and sat back down.

“Having a hard time sleeping too, huh?” the human sighed as she leaned further back in her chair.

Garn nodded sharply, then unsure how well humans could see in the dark followed up with a curt, “Yes ma’am.”

Kaya laughed again. “I told you before, you don’t need to call me ma’am.”

“Sorry ma-... uh, sorry. I will try to remember better.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure it’s what you’re used to. I, for one, know old habits die hard.” Her tone was soft and quiet. So unlike the interactions and reprimandings he was accustomed to in his life up to this point.

He settled down a little more, muscles finally starting to drop their worried tension as the two of them sat in the darkness. He eventually relaxed enough that he felt comfortable to break the silence.

“Are you… are you having a hard time sleeping ma- uh, human Kaya?”

She didn’t laugh this time, but Garn could hear the quiet smile in her voice, “We’ll get you through all your formalities yet.” She sighed and stroked her hand over where her left arm ended. “I am. Just some old phantom pains acting up again.”

“Phantom pains?” That sounded serious. Should he go wake Embry?

The worry in his voice must have been picked up because Kaya gently waved him back down as she reached to the counter and picked up a dark mug and sat back in her chair. “My arm may be gone, but sometimes my brain forgets. Sometimes it feels like my arm itches, sometimes it hurts, or at least my brain thinks it does. It doesn’t happen as much as it used to, but still more than I’d like. Especially when I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She sipped slowly from the mug in her hand. Whatever was in it smelled sweet and calming. Kaya noticed him watching as she lowered the cup and rested it on her lap.

“Mint tea,” she explained. “It helps. Or at least, enjoying a warm cup of it helps me take my mind off the pain.”

Garn nodded silently, not sure what to say. He wasn’t sure what the etiquette was for this situation. He couldn’t take his eyes off her arm and where it ended, but he also knew that for many species, staring for too long at a person could be considered a challenge to a duel, or at least considered rude. Kaya didn’t seem to notice though, more focused on the mug in her hand.

“I brewed it myself,” She continued. “We’ve got a room here on the ship that we’ve filled with plants. It helps keep the air fresh, takes a bit of the strain off the o2 systems. That and sitting in the room or taking care of all the plants helps keep star sickness at bay.”

“Star sickness?” Garn cut in, unfamiliar with the term.

“Void sickness, star sickness, planet separation anxiety, there’s a lot of names for it. It’s not so much a physical sickness, but a mental one. I don’t know how many space-faring races have to deal with it, but it affects humans pretty frequently. It can get pretty nasty too, if it’s not dealt with. I make sure Porter, Embry, and I each spend a chunk of time in the plant room pretty regularly. It’s grounding. And relaxing. Smells nice too. A lot of the plants are, of course, good at filtering the air of impurities, but quite a few of them smell nice. Like the mint, for instance.” She took another sip from the mug and chuckled. “Even Tig likes going in there sometimes. You would think he’d find the humidity levels a pain on the circuits, but he says it doesn’t bother him. I think he finds the plants interesting. Sometimes I notice him laser etching bamboo stalks on packaging scraps when he’s bored.”

Garn hummed and nodded. He’d seen the kloxan do that too. Thinking of him and the human next to him now, he again started wondering at how different they were than what he’d always expected of someone from the Galactic Confederation. Just even in the past few solar rotations, the hard, no-nonsense shell he’d immediately attributed to her when they first met was actually more just her being firm and strong when needed, but thoughtful and gentle at her base. He’d learned so much in such a short amount of time. The galaxy was such a bigger place than he’d ever thought, so much more detailed and nuanced. It had all been so cut and dry and simple when all he knew was what the Syndicate told him. He exhaled deeply as he leaned his head back to rest against the wall.

“That’s quite the sigh,” Kaya noted. “Got a lot on your mind?”

Garn grunted an affirmative. Kaya sat silently as if waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she leaned her head back to rest against her chair and they both sat silently for a while.

Garn’s mind was racing, and at the same time, it felt like it was stuck in a sticky zawki pit. His thoughts were starting to run into each other and stretch or slow down until nothing was making sense anymore. Maybe he should return to the sleep quarters and try again to get some rest. He looked over to the human who also looked like she was having trouble with her thoughts.

“If I may ask,” he asked quietly so as to not startle her, “what made you want to leave the Galactic Confederation?”

Kaya tilted her head down to consider him a moment. Even in the darkness, he could see the lines around her eyes pull.

“I left,” she began and thought about it a moment, “I left to find my partner.”

Garn wasn’t sure what that meant, so he waited unmoving until she finally continued. Her voice was slow and deliberate, like she was carefully picking through every word.

“We… we were on a scouting mission and there was… an accident. We were separated. I was, well, I was recovered, but he wasn’t.” She paused again and looked down into her mug. Or maybe at her arm, Garn wasn’t sure. “I tried to convince them to go after him. They said he was gone. I appealed. I appealed again and again to higher and higher powers, but I kept getting nos. They told me he was gone and that trying to… recover him would… that it wasn’t worth the risk. He was a good man.” She frowned and looked up sharply. “He is a good man. I think he’s still out there. He survived. I can feel it. And I decided I was going to get him, by myself if I had to. Tig was on our crew as well. He’s been... a dear friend. Both to Ahmad and I before, and now. He believed me. He came along to help me find Ahmad.”

She looked back up at Garn. “Since we left the GC, we’ve found evidence that we were right, that he made it out alive. We just need to find him. And along the way, we’ve picked up a few other lost souls.”

Garn matched her gaze as he listened and thought on the information. She was on a mission. He, well, he was now for all intents and purposes, a fugitive on the run. Other than staying alive, he had no real plans, no goals. What was he going to do now? He must have spoken his question out loud before he realized it, because Kaya cocked her head and gave a small chuckle in response.

“What are you going to do indeed, dantum? I think that’s what everyone has to figure out. Until you do, though, I suppose you can tag along with us for a while.” She took another sip of her tea before she set it back down on the counter. “After all, it’s not like we’d be able to get rid of ya any time soon. Porter’s gotten attached.” She smiled and gave a short hum, “and I think you’d make a decent enough late-night conversationalist. Granted, you do need a little more practice.”

Garn felt a flicker of surprise and returned the smile. He’d like that. Here on this antiquated but cozy ship, surrounded by terrifying but welcoming aliens, he thought he’d really like that.

[benscursedkid]

*title from the song of the same name by mansionair and a continuation of this post* 

synopsis: rebekah and ben’s relationship progression throughout their second year at hogwarts. (plus some bonus of other characters too.)

pairing: ben copper x mc; ben copper x rebekah roberts

genre: angst, fluff, etc. 

words: 5.160

a/n: is it 5am rn for me? yes it is. did i skip the ice vault scene because i’m tired and lazy? you bet. also, i know they’re in second year and thus supposed to be around twelve years old but i’m pretty sure i forgot what being twleve felt like (must be all the repressed embarrassment yikes) so i apologize if this seems slightly too heavy or at times mature for that. but then again, this is hphm so y’know... trauma <3 also be warned, i’m tired so this is unedited as of rn. i’ll come back and edit it maybe tomorrow or the next day but if you’re reading this then i have not done so yet. pls, enjoy anyway!

She woke up that morning with a spring in her step. Her bags had been packed for weeks, her robes already ironed and an outfit laid out for the morning. She discarded it, choosing instead to pull another one out of her trunk and switching their spots. The young girl ran all over the house, picking up anything that had been thoughtlessly left out and almost forgot to take time to sit and eat breakfast. 

It was a thing her parents still tried to insist on. Eating meals as a family despite the fact that they are indefinitely one member short. Their motivation usually wore off by lunch only to be half-heartedly reignited by dinner. 

The effort is just what she’d wanted except…Rebekah hates it, truth be told. They do nothing more than inquire about Rowan and Ben, occasionally touching on the weather before falling silent again. And that’s how they remain for the rest of the night. Disappearing into their room seems to be more habit than pastime for them now and Rebekah is left to her own devices. They don’t watch her father’s favorite movies, they don’t make any plans for the next day, they don’t laugh over old jokes. Sometimes, when the moon is high and her spirits are low, she wonders why they can’t try like she does. To fix their family. Her brother may no longer be around, but surely she is enough to keep them going, right? Surely, knowing that they still have their daughter left is enough...isn’t it? 

Her thoughts often took those turns at home, but today she hadn’t let them get to her. Her parents could be heard getting ready for the day in the solace of their quiet room while Rebekah finished brushing her teeth and gathering some last minute research she had done the night before. Mysteries might be fun, but it’s about time this one got solved. 

They were even quieter on the way to King’s Cross than usual—even by their new standards—but Rebekah didn’t care this time. Her mind was too busy running in different directions to spare a moment to anything else. 

“You be careful, ‘Bek,” Her mother whispers presently into her hair, her thin arms wrapped around her small body in the tightest hug she’s received since she came home two months ago. Her voice is uneven and Rebekah can feel the quivering of her lips against her dark hair. “Stay in one piece, alright?”

“I will.” She promises swiftly, the words leaving her mouth without much thought. 

Her father tries for a smile that even he has to know doesn’t land. “Say hi to your friends for us, yeah? Let them take care of you.”

His voice was gentle, his tone and intentions soft and well-meaning, but Rebekah can’t help but bite her lips to keep back a frown. It is glaringly something he would never have said before and for whatever reason, she doesn’t like the fact that he says it now. 

Her father’s hand reaches the back of her head, his palm cradling her cheek affectionately as she pulls away from her mother. He seems about to hug her himself, but in a move strangely unlike him, he doesn’t. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t come. Somehow her heart breaks just a little more anyway. 

The train whistles and she notices that her trolley has already been taken to the luggage compartments. Sound and perception come back to her all at once as the atmosphere seems to crack. Students mill about them in tandem and the heavy scent of the train’s engine prickles at her delicate nose. Her mother and father find their place again, stuck together like glue, and take a small step back. When they look at her their eyes are tired. 

“Have fun, Rebekah.” Her father offers as her mother struggles to keep up her already thin façade of a collected person. 

She nods at them in farewell, her body already turning towards the train. “I will.” She says again. 

She hated the summer holidays this year, yet turning her back on her parents is still a stinging betrayal that quells the breath in her throat. She makes a point to not look behind her lest she fall apart all together. 

Fortunately, there are still some reunions to be had today, the first of which she walks into before even stepping onto the Hogwarts Express. With her arms held tightly around herself and her eyes cast downward, Rebekah doesn’t notice it when a familiar head of blonde hair sticks itself out the window as she approaches the steps. 

“Rebekah!” Cheers a soft voice, one that is usually not heard over the ring of the crowd. 

On instinct, her eyes follow the sound, landing on the sight of Ben Copper with his neck stuck all the way out a compartment window. Unwittingly, all her claustrophobia melts off of her and a giggle even falls like a trickle from her lips. Her hand comes up to cover it but she doesn’t miss the way Ben’s cheeks flush deep with pink. 

The sight only strengthens her smile. 

“Ben,” Rebekah greets with a grin, moving out the way of the steps to instead walk over to stand directly in front of his window. Her hand still hesitates between covering her mouth and balling into a fist at her side. She swallows the uncertainty down. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing? Doesn’t your neck hurt?”

He blushes again and Rebekah gets the overwhelming urge to ruffle his already messy hair which clearly still shines with product. “No! Well, not before you mentioned it…” 

She chuckles. “Looking for the best view?”

“Not anymore.”

Emotions grips her throat and her smile hesitates between freezing and growing even larger. For his part, Ben simply rubs at the back of his neck shyly, unable to meet her eye now. 

His mouth opens to respond when she doesn’t immediately say anything back, only to be interrupted before he starts by a much higher, much more enthusiastic voice. 

“Rebekah? Is that you?” Rowan gasps, pushing Ben slightly to now fit her head through the window. The blonde grimaces next to her, his nose scrunching up in discomfort and the scene is so comical Rebekah has to laugh. It comes off her chest like a heavy secret she hadn’t known she’d been carrying. 

“You’re here!” Her friend gushes, her lips splitting with a grin so wide Rebekah fears it may cut her face in half. ‘What are you doing standing out there? Come in, the train will depart soon!”

Rebekah doesn’t mention how absurd she looks with her head popping out of a window like a cartoon character. She merely shakes her head and does as she’s instructed. 

It doesn’t take long to find her way to the compartment, even with the onslaught of students now hurrying to board the train. The whistle sounds off again somewhere, but the happy chatter of children and teens mute the sound of it. She’s barely taken a single step into the compartment when Rowan launches herself at her for a hug. Rebekah returns it gently, ignoring the way the rim of the other girl’s glasses press intently into the skin by her ear. 

Rowan releases her quickly, her arm looping through hers and already beginning to speak a mile a minute about something or other Rebekah doesn’t quite manage to catch yet. Perhaps she would, if her eyes hadn’t caught on Ben’s. His own are a warm and welcoming gold with the rays of fading summer sunshine catching on them through the window screen. They cast little squares across his face that Rebekah finds difficult not to count before—

Welcome back, he mouths to her silently, not daring to interrupt Rowan now that she’s started on another one of her tangents. 

Rebekah grins, a slight blush of her own rising to her cheeks. She nods to signal her acknowledgement before turning back to Rowan, barely catching the end of her complaint about the library near her house. 

It’s good to be back. 

~✾~

I haven’t seen him since we stepped off the Hogwarts Express, Penny will tell her later but only after Ben has already been gone. Why hadn’t she noticed his absence sooner? I’m a little worried, Rebekah. Especially after what happened last year with the cursed ice. 

She tried to bring it to McGonagall’s or Angelica’s attention earlier, but Dumbledore called for everyone to go immediately to their dorms after dinner. No exceptions. 

They were ushered to their rooms like cattle, their prefects doing their best to calmly give them orders. Chester, for his part, seemed to pay her some extra attention. In hindsight, Rebekah knows that he has good reason to be suspicious, but at the time his scrutiny only served to further agitate her. 

How could he have disappeared already? Why did no one see him leave? 

Why didn’t she? 

And why is it always those closest to her? 

~✾~

Her sleep that night was fitful and her appearance the next morning was even worse. And just her luck, her least favorite person caught her at the door to Transfiguration the next time she tried to see McGonagall. 

“You look worried, Roberts.” 

Rebekah sighs, her usually level temper flaring at the mere sight of her troublesome classmate. “What do you want, Merula?”

The Slytherin smirks, looking nonchalantly at the black polish chipping from her fingernails. “I was just wondering if you’d had any luck finding that cowardly mudblood friend of yours.”

Her eyes snap sharply over to Merula’s. Green meets magenta in a swirl of anger and pride, each of them holding onto both. When Rebekah speaks, her voice is low and measured. “Do you know what happened to Ben?”

“I know more than you,” The other girl mocks but suddenly she doesn’t seem so teasing anymore. She takes a taunting step closer and despite the daylight peeking through the windows, her eyes darken with mirth. “I know that sometimes even when people are missing, they’re exactly where they’re supposed to be.” 

The words are more than just a punch to the gut. It’s bad enough to be reminded of Jacob’s absence, but implying that the world is better for it is…

Merula takes this moment of hesitation to drive her point home. “There are things happening at this school you could never begin to understand, Roberts,” Jacob did. “Trying to uncover those things is going to get you killed.” Like Jacob?

“No,” Rebekah shakes her head, her hands balling into fists she just barely manages to keep at her sides. “Trying to get in my way is only going to end up hurting you, Merula.”

Merula glowers at her, her lips twisting up into a snarl. “You’ll learn everything soon enough.”

“If you’re not going to help me find Ben,” Rebekah snaps, her glare sharper than she thinks it's ever been before. “Then just stay away from me, Merula.”

“As you wish, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rebekah finally pushes past her, but her words linger in her head far into the rest of the day. 

~✾~

“Please, Madam Pomfrey,” Rebekah pleads, pouring all of her worry and concern into the five syllables. “Someone should be with him!”

But the healer just arches an unconvinced eyebrow, refusing to move from her place blocking her entrance into the hospital wing. She crosses her arms at Rebekah’s comment. “And you’ve come to the conclusion that a skilled healer is not enough company, Miss Roberts?”

Rebekah makes a noise of frustration that sounds strangled in her throat. “He needs a friend, Madam!” The woman does not budge and Rebekah runs a fraught hand through her short black hair. She’d wrestled her Ravenclaw tie loose earlier and discarded her robes at her dorm the second she’d gotten back from the fifth corridor, figuring that it was only a matter of time until Ben got seen here. 

“I won’t bother him. I won’t bother you. I won’t bother anyone, I promise.” It’s been days since she’s heard from him, she was starting to worry... “Please,” She says eventually, the weight of all her troubles finally managing to drag her down. “I just want to see him.” 

Pomfrey studies her closely for a long time before something close to recognition flashes across her face. 

She steps aside. 

~✾~

He doesn’t wake up for another four days. By then the weekend has come along and not so easily, might she add. She’d spent much of her time after and between classes sitting in the hospital by Ben’s bedside. In the back of her mind, she knew that she should have been more worried about the notes and the quills and the clues, but every time she thought about that doubt crept into her mind. 

Surely, her luck couldn’t be that bad? How likely was it really that one of her very few friends was conspiring against her? And that it could be Ben? Of all people? 

It wasn’t just unlikely as far as Rebekah was concerned. It was impossible. 

Ben would never do that to her. 

Rowan and Penny had been worried about how thin she was stretching herself. Between classes and clues and uncomfortable hospital wing chairs. After her honesty in his class, Flitwick had given her a small extension on the last homework assignment, given how often—and how commonly known—she visits Ben when she can. Even Chester had taken to checking in on her, not that she was the one who needed it. 

And yet in spite of all this, she was not with him when he woke up. 

She’d been resting in her dorm with Rowan after being kicked out by Pomfrey the day before. The matron claimed her worried frowns and her frequency in the wing were beginning to scare some of the other students and instructed her to take the weekend away from the smell of pumpkin juice and disinfectant. She hadn’t wanted to leave, but she had been able to get Pomfrey to promise to alert her if anything changed. 

The rest of her and Rowan’s roommates had quickly vacated the premises when it became clear that Rebekah was not going to leave. She thinks they’re afraid of her, like many other people she’s noticed. Thinks that she’s mad. Like your brother, some of them say. You’re cursed. 

But Rowan stayed. For a while she tried to distract her with art or wizard’s chess, but eventually they settled on a book. Rowan sat on her bed, the book spread out on her lap as she read it to Rebekah out loud while she sat on her own bed upside down in boredom. Rowan had the better voice for it, they decided, and a longer attention span. 

It was like this that they found her. The poor frazzled student Pomfrey had apparently sent to fetch her. It’s Ben, they exclaimed and she swears the whole common room fell quiet behind the half-opened door. He’s awake. And he’s asking for you. 

Before she knew it, her legs were moving. She wasn’t really thinking—they knew where to go—as they ran her down the corridors. The pale morning sun blinked at her as she passed each window. Until the door came into view and she only just had enough wits about her to slow down, steady her now labored breaths before entering the wing.  

She pushed the door open and Madam Pomfrey was on her immediately. “That was quick.” She says matter-of-factly, her hands folding in front of her the way they commonly do, her shoulders straight and expression relaxed. 

Rebekah ignores her. “Is he alright?”

“I believe so,” She answers quickly without preamble and she heaves a sigh of relief. “His memory is erratic, but I have seen patients in far worse condition in my time as Matron of Hogwarts.”

“You said he asked to see me?”

“Many times, along with other strange requests and proclamations. I believe he’s experiencing some state of delirium.” 

“Can I talk to him?” She asks, ignoring the way her heart flips painfully in her chest at her previous words. She doesn’t want to think about how disoriented he must have been. She should have been there.

“Mister Copper has been through quite an ordeal and still remains in a very delicate state—” She begins but one look at Rebekah’s face tells her that little she can say will matter. She sighs in something that sounds like sympathy before gesturing over to his bed. “Make it fast.”

She smiles briefly in lieu of thanks before she’s moving again towards the familiar spot by his bedside. Pomfrey hadn’t even moved her chair. 

Despite his clearly groggy state, Ben smiles weakly as she approaches, recognizing her immediately. His voice is meek and scratchy when he says, “Hi, ‘Bekah…” 

Her lips pull up slightly at the unfamiliar nickname and she allows herself to fall habitually into the chair beside him. She reaches out to take his hand, but thinks better of it and wrings them together nervously underneath his bed instead. “How are you feeling?”

As she says this, Ben frowns, his whole body slumping further into his bed at the reminder of his condition. Dark spots can be seen beneath his eyes despite being unconscious for the past four days and his skin is still pasty and almost as pale as hers. Not for the first time, Rebekah wonders just what happened in the near week and a half it took to find him in the corridor. 

“Cold. Tired. Sore,” He laments, but his mouth manages to pick up just slightly anyway. “Not that different from usual to be honest.” 

Rebekah wants to laugh at his attempt at a joke—no matter how self-deprecating, acknowledging the effort it must have taken, but she doesn’t quite manage it. Instead, her brows knit together even more in worry for his health and well-being. 

“Are you comfortable?” She finds herself saying, her eyes flicking to his rather flat looking pillow and the cold bars of his bed. “Is there anything I can do?”

Ben smiles and this time it takes. He still looks tired and he still looks ragged, but not so lonely anymore. The sight reminds her of what a twelve year-old boy should look like as his round cheeks wrinkle with the change of expression. 

“Seeing your face is enough,” He admits a bit sheepishly, fiddling with his fingers purposefully, ducking his head down to look at them. “Madam Pomfrey is very helpful, but she doesn’t have the most comforting bedside manner.” 

This gets a chuckle out of her at the truth of it and Ben’s smile returns victoriously. 

Now it is Rebekah’s turn to look away and she nervously crosses her ankles before uncrossing them again. She shifts only subtly in her seat. “She said you asked to see me?”

His face twists in confusion. His head tilts in tired frustration. “Did I? I feel like I’m losing it…” 

A small part of her is left disappointed with his lack of remembrance, but it is far overshadowed by the full force of her concern coming back at his clearly patchy memory. Just what did that cursed ice do? 

Her hand twitches again to reach out to him but this time she listens to it. Her hand wraps cautiously around his wrist in what she hopes is a consoling manner. “What were you doing in that corridor, Ben? How did you get trapped in the ice?”

The Gryffindor shakes his head in anguish. “I don’t remember. I can hardly remember anything at all. Madam Pomfrey thinks it has something to do with the ice.” 

Emotion lodges itself in her throat and for a moment she can’t speak. Ben looks away from her, seemingly in shame, but shame for what she isn’t sure. And she hates that she questions it. This isn’t fair! Why must these things always happen to her? 

Paranoia pricks at her conscience and climbs up her spine. She has no choice but to press further. “I found a letter to you in the artefact room,” She explains and Ben still refuses to look at her directly. She isn’t sure whether to take that as a bad sign. “It led me to another one that told you to go to that corridor…” 

“I’m sorry, Rebekah,” Ben whispers as though he doesn’t have the strength for anything else. “I just don’t remember…” 

Something pulls at her chest. “Ben—”

“That’s enough for today, Miss Roberts,” Pomfrey announces, having snuck up behind Rebekah while she’d been distracted. “Mister Copper needs his rest.” 

“But—”

“It’s okay,” Ben grabs her hand, his own not much bigger but it still offers her the reassurement that is intended. “I’m kind of tired, anyway.” 

Rebekah frowns half in suspicion and half in confusion. “You just woke up.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

Pomfrey clears her throat and Rebekah sighs, reluctantly releasing her hold on Ben’s hand and offering her friend in question a wave as she disappears back behind the privacy curtain. 

She doesn’t see him for the rest of the day, but her mind stays stuck on the hospital wing and the missing week and a half of Ben’s memory of how he got there. 

~✾~

In hindsight, meeting Bill had been, thankfully, one of the only good things to come out of that term. At the time, she couldn’t have ever guessed the way that things would soon be playing out, but one thing that was a constant in her life when nothing else was is Bill Weasley. 

Her surrogate big brother—and arguably the best one she ever had—went on to get her through the worst of times. Even when he couldn’t be there, he always lent her his support. Rebekah doesn’t know where she’d be without him. 

And to think she almost met him for the first time with a book about Patricia Rakepick. She knows now that hindsight isn’t always funny. 

~✾~

Speaking of older brothers, she never quite expected to find comfort in dry as wood Chester Davies of all people but—What are prefects for?

Rebekah’s grin comes surprisingly easy, all traces of her nightmare forgotten. “Badgering everyone about house points?”

“Hey!”

~✾~

Rebekah groans as her face plants into her textbook, her head feeling like it holds nothing but bricks. Certainly no useful curse-breaking information. 

A light, breathy chuckle is heard from beside her and if she weren’t stressed out of her mind, it might have brought a smile to her face. Her shoulder is cautiously poked as her study companion regards her fondly. 

“You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

She lifts her head just high enough off the potions book to glare at him through the dark strands of her hair now stuck to her face. “Remind me again why we didn’t invite Penny to teach us this instead?”

He hums as though in contemplation, but the smile threatening to lift his lips tells a different story. “Because I need the extra study time and you were just bored enough to join me?”

It’s mostly a lie. She knows that she needed to study some possible potions her and Bill could bring into the vaults and ever since he got out of the hospital wing, she hasn’t been able to see Ben too often lately...but yes, he also did really need the study time. Unfortunately, the hospital wing isn’t the most convenient place to do homework and even though he did every assignment his roommates brought back to him, Ben had fallen a bit behind in Snape’s class. 

Though, really, she doesn’t think anyone but Penny is exactly ahead. 

Still, she frowns as Ben reaches to brush some of the hair out of her face. The tips of his fingers graze over her skin and he clears his throat before looking away. 

Rebekah does the same, casting her eyes around the room. Truthfully, there’s not much to look at. It’s the same potions classroom it's always been: dark, dreary, and slightly dingy. Though, she must admit that the faint green light coming from the dungeon corridor does cast a rather lovely reflection across his face. 

“Well now I’m even more bored.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Instantly, her brows draw together in slight disappointment and surprise at the sudden sad apology. When she looks back over at him he’s already turned subtly away from her, but his eyes are somewhere else. Somewhere distant and far away. 

“Ben, are you sure you want to deal with the cursed ice again?” 

He actually barks out a laugh, but’s hollow and strained. “No, I am absolutely unsure,” He huffs, chewing anxiously at his lower lip. “This potion makes me feel better about my likely injuries, but I’ll learn a new charm to try and avoid injuries and trouble altogether—” 

Without thinking, Rebekah allows her hand to fold over top of his and Ben stares at it for a second, his cheeks going a little pink again before continuing. 

“—s-sorry, Rebekah,” He stutters out for a moment and she finds it more endearing than she thinks it really is. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“Somehow, I find that strangely hard to believe.” 

They laugh together effortlessly, most of the weight from before gone. As always, the expression transforms his face into something more youthful and unburdened—the way she thinks it was supposed to be. The sound of their laughter mixing together like paint sounds like music to her tired ears. 

“But seriously though,” Ben adds as it winds down, all thoughts of potions and textbooks forgotten. “I’m still going to do it.”

She can’t help but ask. “Why?”

And when he answers her, he says it simply. As simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Because you need me to.” 

~✾~

She fell asleep on the train. 

Ravenclaw had a huge celebration the night before for winning the house cup. Rebekah hadn’t the energy to join in on the festivities—the cursed ice had really done a number on her, not to mention that bloody knight—but it was rather amusing to watch Chester run around trying to put out the fires of adrenaline. With all of that joy and creativity in one room, she’s sure he was up all night. 

Her and Rowan had their own secret celebration too. They congratulated themselves—and Bill, Penny, and Ben internally—for making it past the ice vault… and then spent the rest of the night theorizing on what the next one could possibly be. They certainly weren’t left empty-handed after all. 

But her brother’s voice haunted her well into dawn. She saw his face every time she closed her eyes. And she missed him. 

She missed him so much it hurt. 

“Rebekah,” A whisper. A tap to her shoulder. When did she fall asleep? “Rebek—”

“Don’t just poke her like that!” Mocks another voice, one equally as familiar yet in her groggy state she is unable to place it. 

“Well, the train has stopped, Rowan—”

“But you’re not gonna wake anyone up poking them like porcelain china, Ben—”

“Please tell me the two of you didn’t argue the whole time I was out?” Rebekah croaks out, her throat tight from recent disuse, attempting to blink herself fully awake. 

Rowan huffs slightly but doesn’t disagree while Ben remains still and silent and Rebekah suddenly realizes she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. She sits up to give him his shoulder back and he offers her an understanding smile. 

“I’ll have you know I was perfectly civil—”

“—You threw your muggle studies book at me—”

“—well it’s the one I like the least, so—” 

Rebekah whines petulantly and throws them both a pleading look, her lower lip pulled over her other one in a pout. “C’mon, guys, summer holiday just started. Can’t this wait?”

Their frowns remain on their faces but they don’t object and Rebekah supposes she’ll have to start taking that as a win. 

“Thank you.” 

It doesn’t take long to gather their things and leave the train. Given that it has been stopped for the past few minutes, most students have already left. Only the slow stragglers remain. Ben and Rowan take up a spot on either side of her as they exit their compartment and descend the few short stairs to the King’s Cross platform. 

Immediately, the warm rush of summer air hits Rebekah as her foot touches the ground. With most of the families gone or leaving, it’s not as noisy as it was the last time she was here, but her ears do manage to catch on a voice calling out to them from her left. 

Rowan laughs from beside her and waves at her parents and cousins, her grip on her trunk nearly going white with how hard she squeezes it in excitement. She turns to give the shorter girl a quick hug and promises to write to her frequently, stopping only to throw Ben a hesitant nod of farewell before she’s skipping off to join her family. 

Rebekah takes a look around but does not immediately spot her parents. Or Ben’s. 

His throat clears and she turns back to him. His blue t-shirt ripples a little in the soft breeze, his hair waving with it, and his eyes bore into hers with intent. His brown eyes shine with something that feels like a goodbye and a hello all in one. 

She smiles. 

He opens his mouth but his attention catches on something behind her and she knows what he sees as an expression of fondness and recognition crosses over his features. His hand comes up into a small wave before looking back to her and sending the universal wait gesture. 

“Thank you,” Rebekah speaks before he can and catches him off-guard. “For all your help this year. I...I’m sorry about your memory. I’m sorry you couldn’t get it back.” 

Ben seems to shiver at the reminder before collecting himself. He shrugs in a more nonchalant way than she’s almost ever seen him. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, considering where I ended up...I’m not sure I’d want to remember it anyway.”

She tries for a smile at the silver lining, no matter how bleak it is, but it feels cheap so she bites it back instead. 

“I’ll write you everyday,” Ben promises quickly, nodding almost confidently. “That way I wo—”

“Don’t do that,” She shakes her head, her smile half of a tease. “You won’t have too much to talk about if you write to me every day. Your letters will get short. Every weekend should suffice.” 

Ben nods at the idea. “Okay. Every weekend.” 

A beat passes between them. Neither of them speak. 

“I’ll see you later, Ben?” She asks somewhat hopefully and strangely somewhat unsure. Where did her uncertainty come from? 

But he only nods, a smile finally breaking through. 

“See you later, Rebekah.” 

[creative-type]

wake from death (and return to life) ix

AO3 first summary:  Zoro had always been told Kuina died falling down a flight of stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.

.

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It took Kuina almost five minutes of dangling over the rails of the ship to realize there was no wind. She was punch-drunk and giddy, the weight of uncertainty rolled off of her shoulders now that she had a clear path forward. She was a Revolutionary. She was going to be the greatest swordsman in the world.

Kuina allowed herself those five minutes. With everything she’d gone through in the last week and a half she’d more than earned them, and it had been so long since she’d felt any real excitement for her future. But no swordsman worth their blade would let themselves get lost in childish emotionalism. Kuina steadied herself with a few deep breaths, mentally drawing in the flights of fancy that had momentarily escaped from her imagination—daydreams of facing Dracule Mihawk at the behest of the Revolution, of proving once and for all that she could do what so many thought impossible, of reuniting with her father and Zoro proudly bearing the title Greatest.  

It was like trying to wrangle a gaggle of unruly children. The more Kuina struggled to contain herself the more her imagination tried to run free, but she managed to settle back into the state of tranquil serenity that was more befitting of her training. The practical side of her, the part that quietly disapproved of this most recent turn of events, knew that now that she’d painted the broad strokes of her future it was high time to figure out what the hell Aria de Gris was doing now. It was then, and only then, that she noticed that the air was unnaturally still.

The sailors around her were not perturbed even as the Valor’s sails hung limp from their moorings. Kuina could feel that they were moving on the clear, mirror-flat sea. Slowly, but that was better than being dead in the water. Kuina wandered to the ship’s bow, noting that the Valor was sailing almost due south. If the Revolution had followed the same heading since leaving Tolouse, and Kuina had been unconscious for two full days, that meant…

“Don’t worry, we should be out of the Calm Belt by the end of the week.”

Kuina flinched, sword half-drawn before realizing it was only Dara using what had to be the most annoying Devil Fruit ability in the history of the world. Dara laughed as she popped out of the deck, hooking her thumbs in her pockets as Kuina shot her a glare.

But most of Kuina’s irritation was at herself for letting herself be caught by surprise, and she returned her attention back to the water. It was impossible to sail through the Calm Belt without some sort of engine, which the Valor lacked, to say nothing of the danger presented by the innumerable nests of sea kings that buffeted the Grand Line from the Four Blues.

Even as Kuina tried to wrap her mind around it, a dark shadow emerged from the depths directly in front of the ship. A high-pitched, eerie wail, almost like a siren’s song, reverberated through the air and deep into Kuina’s chest.

A monstrous head breached the surface so close to the Valor it sent rippling waves across its hull. Sprays of water jettisoned thirty feet into the air, exposing only part of a stripped, misshapen body before submerging once more. Great flukes, as large as a whale, but covered with algae-like strands of hair, slapped against the surface of the sea and sent sprays of salty water against the deck. Someone in the crow’s nest above whooped out a cry of encouragement.

Thoroughly confused, Kuina looked at Dara, whose grin only widened as she pointed to a tiny speck bobbing to the space recently vacated by the leviathan. “Oh look, there’s Cam. Someone should send a boat after her.”

“As if she’d take it!” a Revolutionary Kuina didn’t recognize shouted from across the deck.

“True,” Dara said contemplatively. Beckoning Kuina to follow, she meandered to the starboard side of the deck and loosened a rope ladder into the sea. “It’s probably faster to just let her swim.”

If Kuina hadn’t been so amazed by the fact Camille hadn’t gotten herself eaten, she would have marveled at the speed with which she cut through the unnaturally-still sea. Kuina considered herself a good enough swimmer, but Camille looked like she’d been born for the water. She moved like she was part fish, each stroke strong and graceful, returning to the Valor in moments. When she climbed back onto the decks she seemed sad to be there, looking back longingly at the water.

“So, how’s Fin?” Dara asked.

“Good, good. I adjusted the harness to fit more comfortably.” Camille arched an eyebrow at her friend while adjusting a leather thong around her neck, from which hung the biggest tooth Kuina had ever seen. “And his name isn’t Fin.”

“Well since you haven’t said what his name is, you’ve left me no choice but to improvise,” Dara retorted. She nudged Kuina in the ribs. “Can you believe she went through the effort of taming a sea king and then didn’t name it? ”

“You tamed a sea king?” Kuina said. “ How? ”

Camille rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tame anything. We’ve just...reached an understanding.” She gave Kuina an appraising look. “I’m surprised the doctor let you out of her grasp so soon.”

“She almost didn’t,” Kuina admitted.

Dara wrapped an arm around Kuina’s neck, ignoring the choked yelp of alarm and Kuina’s efforts to squirm free. “Forget about that! Did you hear, Kuina joined up. She’s officially one of the team!”

“I thought that was a given.” Camille said, utterly disinterested as she wrung the excess water from her shirt.

“When did you hear that?” Kuina said at the same time.

“Pfft, Dara knows pretty much everything on this ship,” Camille said. “You get used to it.”

Kuina frowned. She didn’t like the idea of someone with Dara’s ability nosing her way into business that wasn’t her own. If there was anything she’d learned since sailing with the Revolution, it was that there was very little in the way of privacy while at sea. Ships crowded everyone together, crewmates eating, sleeping, and working in close proximity. While the forced closeness had its advantages, Kuina was used to spending great blocks of time alone. It was something to get used to, and to be wary of.

“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me,” Dara said, tweaking the end of Kuina’s nose. “You saved me from losing five hundred berries, and to Lizard of all people. I am at your service.”

It took Kuina a moment to remember Dara’s ill-thought wager with Elizabeth, and before she could voice her protest Dara had taken her by the arm to make official introductions to the crew, Camille laughing a half-step behind.

There was John the cooper, and James the blacksmith. Among the deckhands Kuina was introduced to rapid-fire were Kojo, Zhao, Lin, Char, Sean, Jen, and Tiva, and by the end of it she had gotten them so thoroughly confused with one another she had no idea which one was which. Others were working belowdecks, or off-shift and resting.

Elizabeth was still regretfully in charge of cooking duties, while Lyudmila was the ship’s quartermaster and second in command. Kuina was surprised to hear that in addition to taming sea kings in her spare time, Camille was the crew’s navigator.

“And what is it you do?” Kuina asked as Dara dragged her back below decks for the grand tour.

“Get newbs like you up to speed. Now here’s Trini’s room—try not to get stuck in here unless you want to spend the afternoon feeding lettuce to snails.”

Kuina blinked in amazement. The communications room was packed full of terrariums housing snail phones of every size and color. At its center was an enormous machine that looked vaguely like what the marines used to send their faxes, with thin cords attached to half a dozen den den mushi. Behind the machine sat Trini wearing an oversized pair of headphones, deep in concentration.

“She’s scanning the airwaves,” Dara said in an exaggerated whisper, carefully closing the door once more. “Not that there’s much to intercept in the Calm Belt, but you never know with the marines these days.”

“The marines can cross the Calm Belt?” Kuina said. “I can barely believe we’re crossing the Calm Belt!”

“It’s all thanks to Fin. Sea king bulls don’t typically fight with one another unless it’s mating season, so even if he’s pulling along a tasty treat we should be all right. I think his song has something to do with it, too.” She made an exaggerated gesture. “As for the marines, I have no freaking clue, but it must be a pretty new development since Boss doesn’t know about it, and the Valor isn’t sea-king proofed either.”

“That’s right, this was a marine ship,” Kuina murmured, looking up at the planks with fresh eyes. It was funny, without the marine’s distinctive painted hulls, she’d never would have been able to tell the difference.

“Oh, yeah. Came with all the amenities, which is how Trini got her state of the art snail room.”

“So if you guys had a sea king snuck up your sleeve this whole time, why didn’t you use it during the battle?” Kuina asked. “A monster that size would have been useful on Tolouse.”

“Ach, must everything be about fighting with you?” Dara said. “You must never have seen a real sea king, but Fin’s practically a baby, not even half-grown. And it’s surprisingly smart—for all my teasing, Cam was right. The thing has a mind of its own and acknowledges no master. I don’t think we could get him to attack a ship if we wanted to.”  

“But he’ll pull a ship through the Calm Belt?” Kuina said.

“It’s better than going the long way around, eh?” Dara said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

At the barracks, Kuina had her choice of seven open bunks. One, which happened to be closest to the door, had a small crate propped on top of the thin mattress. Inside was stuffed with clothes and basic belongings. When Kuina looked askance at Dara the light in her eyes dimmed.

“That’s Danny’s stuff,” Dara said. “The rest who died already have their things stowed for when we get back to base, but as far as any of us know she doesn’t have any family so we’re not really sure what to do with hers. I’d say for you to take the clothes since you don’t have any, but I don’t think they’d fit.”

Kuina drew her fingers over the box, trying to think if she’d said anything about any family in their short time together, but all she remembered her mentioning was an apprenticeship under a cruel master. Kuina’s throat tightened as the memory of Danny screaming hysterically echoed in her mind unbidden.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Dara rubbed her neck uncomfortably. “It happens. I already told Boss when I bite it to sell all my stuff and use the money to have a party. If you all can’t be happy, at least you’ll be drunk.”

“I don’t drink,” Kuina said.

“Then you and Mila can be mopey together,” Dara said with determined cheerfulness. “It won’t matter to me, I’ll be dead. Now, where do you want to be? I’d be careful about that middle one there, it’s next to Lizard, and she snores terribly. ”

Kuina took the hint, and changed the subject, trying not to wonder how many of the bunks available to her had only emptied after the battle of Tolouse.

After the tour came lunch, and with two solid, if not especially tasty, meals under her belt, Kuina was beginning to feel more like herself again. The itch to train was back, and Kuina wanted nothing more to test the limits she’d recently expanded and chase after the high of battle, but much like her time on Belo Betty’s ship she was first subjected to the humiliation of being the newest and lowest-ranking sailor on a large and understaffed warship.

“You’re kind of shit at this, aren’t you?” Camille observed from her perch at the ship’s bow, watching as Kuina ran her mop over the deck for what felt like the hundredth time.

“You could help,” Kuina said.

“And deprive you of the opportunity to learn? Never.” She gave a long, catlike stretch. “By the way, you missed a spot.”

Kuina muttered an oath as she stabbed the mop into the bucket. “It isn’t as if it’s dirty.”

“Water expands and seals the wood, salt protects against rot.” Camille yawned, as if bored by the conversation, and wandered back to their useless rudder. As she passed Kuina, she said, “If you want to live in a drippy, softwooded ship, be my guest. As for me, I’d prefer not to die the first time a Grand Line squall hits.”

She left Kuina with her head bowed and cheeks burning. But the words had their intended effect and Kuina redoubled her efforts, determined from that point on that no one could in good conscience reprimand her sailcraft ever again.

It was nearing dark when de Gris and Lyudmila emerged from the captain’s quarters to call a meeting with the crew. After a long day of labor, Kuina’s muscles ached and she yearned for the sweet respite of bed. And it wasn’t as if the work had been taxing, especially after Clara Cross emerged from the infirmary like an avenging angel to tell off the entire crew, but especially Kuina, for overexerting herself.

There were some things not even Devil Fruit magic couldn’t sweep under the rug, and apparently the exhaustion of a near-death experience was one of them.

“All right everyone, gather round!” de Gris yelled. “Watchmen too! There aren’t any ships out here, and if the sea kings come after us we’re fucked anyway. I want everyone to hear this. Where’s Trini? She can leave the damn snails for ten minutes.”

The crew scrambled to obey the order. Kojo (or maybe Sean) went to gather those who were still belowdecks. Minutes later everyone was assembled in a loose circle around the main mast, with de Gris at the center. She paused a moment to ensure everyone was paying close attention, and under her stern gaze the idle chatter vanished into deathly silence.

Rays of dying light cast against de Gris’s back and framed her face in deep shadow. “I know you all have been wondering lately why the hell we were called to the East Blue so suddenly, and why we’re leaving just as quickly. I’ve heard you lot asking where our next destination was and wonder why I’ve not said where we’re going once we hit the Grand Line. Well, the answer’s simple. Until today, I didn’t know.”

From the folds of her coat, she pulled out an old and crumpled sheet of paper. Kuina squinted her eyes and was just able to make out the blurry picture of a masked figure. The bounty underneath, however, was clear as the sky above. Master-at-Arms Gemini, Wanted Dead or Alive. Bounty: B48,000,000.

Beside her, Dara snorted. “Oh, I bet the marine who thought up that name thought he was very clever.”

It was difficult to tell much from the photograph, but the one detail that was absolutely clear was Gemini’s strange, double-segmented arms, too long for an ordinary human and vaguely insectile. Kuina, who’d never seen anything like it before in her life, wondered what it would be like to fight someone who essentially had two elbows.

She brushed the thought away and turned to Gemini’s face. Their mask, fittingly enough, was divided vertically into halves, one dark and one light. The side that was dark was completely bereft of ornamentation; Kuina couldn’t even make out an eyehole to see out of. The side that was light, however, was painted with a garish grin. A shock of wiry black hair fell past their shoulders, but beyond that it was impossible to discern any identifying features. Baggy clothing and the poor quality of the photograph obscured anything else, even gender, and after spending this much time under de Gris's command, Kuina knew better than to assume.

“Gemini is a prominent figure in the criminal underground,” de Gris continued. “Arms dealing, drug trade, slavery, the whole lot. Removing them from the equation will make the world a safer place.”

“What’s an arms dealer got to do with the Revolution?” someone to Kuina’s right called. “And what have they got to do with the East Blue?” A murmur of agreement rippled through the crew.

“Enough!” de Gris bellowed, silencing them once more. “Tolouse's government were slavers, that much is now clear. They called it political exile to a labor camp, but the end result is the same—the World Government gave the king kickbacks for human chattel, using the Callihan Trading Company as a middleman. And we now now that the CTC was taking orders from Gemini. If Gemini is willing to go through so much effort to set up a scheme in some East Blue backwater, who knows what other fingers they have stuck into various pies around the world.”

“So we’re going after them,” Camille said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“That's right. So far Gemini has been able to stay one step ahead of us, but with the intel gathered on Tolouse we have the upper hand.” De Gris marched to the mast. In one smooth motion she drew a dagger hidden in her boot, and stabbed the bounty deep into the wood.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to Kyuka Island. In the days ahead I’ll be divvying out assignments. Any questions are to be directed toward Lyudmila or myself—out of an abundance of caution, you’re not to discuss your orders with anyone else on this ship. I’ll keelhaul anyone who tries.” At this her gaze went directly to Kuina, who got the impression these instructions were given strictly for her benefit. "Kyuka is marine territory through and through. I pray none of us fall into Government hands, but if we do, it's safest for the Revolution that each individual knows as little as possible about our plans."

After a pause, and hearing no objections, de Gris lit a cigarette for herself. “I’ll pay anyone who finds any intelligence on Gemini that leads to their capture or death the full value of their bounty. I’ll pay double to anyone who brings me their head. This chase has gone on long enough, I want this bastard dead. ” She flicked a bit of ash off the end of her cigarette and added, almost as an afterthought, “Dismissed.”

A gap in the circle opened to let de Gris through. As she passed, she grabbed Kuina by the shoulder. “Come on, greenhorn. It’s time we sort out your position on this ship.”

For the second time that day Kuina was led to the captain’s quarters. De Gris’s desk had been cleared away, the sea charts rolled back into their proper places and ashtrays emptied. Kuina slid back into a chair that smelled like tobacco. “What is it? Does the Revolution have Articles of Enlistment for me to sign? Is there a manifesto I’m supposed to study?”

“Don’t be stupid.” The sun had almost dipped below the horizon, and de Gris found a box of matches to light a kerosene lamp. The orange flame danced on its wick and flickered with the natural roll of the ship. “I’m told Dara gave you the runaround today.”

Kuina nodded.

“Clara never came screaming at me, so I have to assume you’re not feeling too poorly,” she mused, taking the time to light another cigarette.

“I’m fine,” Kuina said, rolling back her shoulders so de Gris couldn’t see the weariness in them.  

“And have you taken that sword out of its sheath even once today?”

“Uh...no?” Kuina said.

“Unacceptable.” De Gris leaned back in her chair and let out a long stream of smoke. “You’re not some swabby or rigging monkey, you’re here because of your blade.” She looked at Kuina as if she were an idiot for not realizing this sooner.

“I’m willing to work just as hard as anyone else on this ship,” Kuina said stiffly.

“And you will. Harder, even, since you’re so far behind. But a ship is like…” She gesticulated, trying to find the right word. “It’s like a person. A crew is its own organism, and every one of us has to fit into their part. You don’t expect a heart to do the same work as a kidney, and no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to be half the sailor as the people who’ve spent their whole lives on the water. It’s ridiculous to think otherwise.”

Kuina nodded. What she said made sense, and in many ways Kuina agreed with her. But there was something about agreeing with Aria de Gris that didn’t sit right with her, so she said, “I have to learn sometime.”

“Obviously. I’m not about to let you be a liability once we hit the Grand Line, but there has to be balance. You’re no good to me if you get yourself killed because you spent too much time studying the different types of sails instead of your swordsmanship.” De Gris was pensive for a moment. “I’ll have Mila set up a schedule for you in the morning. Half the day working chores, the rest training. A few of my men use katana, but you’re better than all of them. Most of what you’ll do will have to be self study.”

“That’s fine. I haven’t had a master in years.”

De Gris looked surprised to hear this, but didn’t comment. “We have regular sparing times as well, to help our less practiced fighters build their skill, and to give the mainliners a chance to get used to each other's styles. Depending on how this all shakes out, you might be pairing with Dara or Camille for the upcoming mission. Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Of course not,” Kuina said, caught off-guard by the question.

“Then you’ll learn.” De Gris cut off Kuina’s protests before they could begin. “Can you kill someone at twenty yards with your sword?”

“No,” Kuina said mulishly.

“Then you need to know how to fire a gun, and probably keep one on you as a backup weapon. I have no use for senseless pride on this ship, girl,” she said as Kuina scrunched her nose in distaste. It’s your job to listen to what I say, and it’s my job to try and put you in a position to not die. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Kuina said, still unhappy at the prospect of sullying her hands with a firearm.

Without warning, de Gris pounded her fist on her desk. The kerosine lamp tottered and threatened to fall, but her eyes never left Kuina’s, the scar on her cheek pulled taunt with her scowl.

“I said. Do. You. Understand ?”

“And I said yes, ” Kuina snapped. “I’ll learn to use you’re stupid gun, and when I figure out how to kill someone at fifty yards with my sword I’ll drop kick it into the ocean where it belongs." She crossed her arms across her chest. "I already told you I’ll do what you say so long as you don’t interfere with my ambition, so there’s no need to treat me like a child.”  

They glared at one another for a long while, hackles raised, but this time Kuina refused to let herself be intimidated into backing down. Slowly, still without breaking eye contact, de Gris eased back into her chair and doused her cigarette. “I have put too many people’s belongings into boxes because they wouldn’t listen. For your own sake, I hope you’re not one of them.”

For the second time that day, memory of Danny's last words echoed in her mind. “You’re in luck, because right now I don’t own enough stuff to fit into a box, let alone anyone to send it to.”

“No one at all?” de Gris said, eyebrows raising.

Kuina’s breath hitched as she thought of her father back at Shimotsuki village. Would the Revolutionary Army be able to return her meager belongings home without the marines knowing? Would he be able to stand knowing she’d joined Dragon’s cause despite all his warnings? What about Ipponmatsu? He at least wasn’t under suspicion by the World Government...Or was he, now that she’d attacked Tashigi?

Of everyone she knew, it was probably safest to give her belongings to Zoro , but gods only knew what part of the Grand Line he’d found himself in. She almost laughed at the thought of him using two of her swords for himself.

“No one,” Kuina said. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging crescent moons into her palms, but she kept her voice calm and her tone even.

After another heartbeat of painful silence, de Gris said, “Well, you’re not the only one." The words were probably meant to be reassuring, but Kuina felt they were anything but. “If you think of anybody, make sure someone knows.”

“I don’t plan on dying,” Kuina said.

De Gris snorted and lit another cigarette. “None of us do. Now get some grub and get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Kuina rose to her feet. After a moment’s hesitation, she bowed slightly. “Thank you...Captain.”

De Gris waved her away with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “You don’t have to break your teeth saying it. I don’t give a damn what you call me so long as you follow orders. Just know I take discipline on this ship very seriously. Cross me, and keelhauling is the least you’ll have to worry about.”

Kuina didn’t doubt it for a second. Murmuring her goodbyes, she left de Gris to her cigarettes and her musings, grateful to be able to swallow the clean sea air once more.

[fancysimpinghere]

Euphories( Sykkuno x reader) pt.2

summary:  Maybe the cuteness in stranger’s smile let you stay alive, but what happen next, may give you a heart attack. Again, you don’t know if you want to keep your heart for yourself and forget about your little journey, or share it with newly befriended boy, who definitely will be the reason of your raising heart rate

You were falling down but once you blinked, your position was entirely changed. There was a lot of white smoke everywhere and when it fell down, you took surroundings and you were truly terrified, although you recognized this place - and maybe it was the main reason that you were scared for your life. Suddenly you remembered that you were supposed to be holding hands with someone and you wanted to turn around, but you couldn’t. You looked down and saw that your body was tied down to the pillar.

-Awesome. - you wanted to groan ironically, but only muffled sounds escaped your mouth. It was caused by a gag made from fabric and when you realized that, you started to panic even more. Tears slowly filled your eyes, when you were struggling with the rope which was holding down your body. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a boy from a game shop showed up in front of you and grabbed the cloth that was covering your mouth.

-Oh my god. - he choked out, looking with disbelief mixed with fear at your poor body.You saw pure shock on his face. - I didn’t know we would end up here  exactly in this dramatic moment!

- What do you mean?! - you almost yelled at him, searching his eyes for an answer. - And why are we in Princess Aria palace?

You didn’t believe your eyes at first, but you had to admit that you were in a place you knew well from the computer screen. As if it was not enough, you remembered this scene from a game too. The space villain just tied up Princess Aria and went to look for Guardian, her good friend and secret crush, to blackmail her. You replayed this scene many times in your head in the past, because it was one of the most difficult levels in that game. But after that quick reminder, you were even more confused. How is it possible that you two are in the game's world?!

-Shhh, we have to be quiet if we want to make it alive… - he silenced you, looking around and observing the huge hall where you’ve been. You wondered for a while what happened with the cute and shy boy you acknowledged like 15 minutes ago. Now he seemed determined and sharp, but there was a glimpse of fear on his face.

 - I promise I will tell you everything, but now we have to free you and run away as fast as possible, okay? - he whispered right into your ear and looked around, very aware.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife. Then he started cutting down the rope and soon your hands and body were released. You rubbed your wrists to regain feeling, but he grabbed you by one of them and pulled you behind the pillar you were tied to. He motioned you to stay quiet and you obeyed. Your mind was full of doubts and you didn’t really know what’s going on, but he seemed oriented with the situation. It’s like it is not his first time here, you thought. You heard voices from the other side of the hall and carefully leaned out from behind the pillar, but didn’t see anything, because your companion pulled you behind again. You looked at him and he shook his head as a wordless sign. He was still holding your hand and suddenly you blushed at the realization.

-Let’s go. - his soft voice distracted you from your thoughts and you followed him without a word. He led you outside and you shivered when cold air touched your exposed skin. Wait, exposed skin? You looked down at yourself and gasped in surprise. Your outfit now was way more brave and feminine than your usual - you wore burgundy, tight, shimmering dress with turtleneck and white knee boots, also tight and well fitted. Of course, it was the outfit of Princess Aria. -What the hell? - you murmured to yourself, checking out the outfit of your new friend. He was dressed in some sort of uniform, all black, but with silver buttons and ornaments. 

-This cassette is a portal to the world of the game. - he explained shortly with a lowered voice, not slowing down your pace.- You’ve taken the role of Aria and I’m the Guardian.

His explanation was making sense, but at the same time it was not something you wanted to hear.

- But how… - you started, but didn’t have a chance to finish, when you bumped into his back. He was standing firmly and you saw the pistol in his other hand.

- We have to run now. - he instructed you, carefully observing a few men that were guarding machinery that was looking like a small space ship.- Get behind me.

You feel butterflies in your stomach again, when he securely shielded you with his own body. Then he started running and you followed him. When the men saw you, they started to shoot, but your companion was faster and he has got a better aim than guards. He shot them with a laser pistol and pulled you in the ship. You both were a panting mess, but when you collapsed on the cold metal floor just seconds after the door closed behind you, he rushed to the cockpit and started the engines, not sparing you a single look or even word.

-Are they...dead? - you asked with a bit of hesitation in your voice, because you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the truth.

- Of course no, only paralized. - boy answered  and you felt  the spaceship took off. It made you a little bit dizzy, but this feeling soon changed into helplessness. - Don’t you remember? In a game Guardian couldn’t kill anyone for good, if he shot anyone, they stayed on the ground for a while and then started to attack again.

He was right, you started to remember things from gameplay.

- I don’t even know your name. - you said quietly, looking down for a moment.

- Thomas, but my friends more often call me Sykkuno. - you could hear tiny smile in his voice and your mood lifted up a little.- It’s my game nick. - He explained, still busy with buttons on the cockpit. - And yours?

You told him your name.

-Okay, we are safe now. - he said with a sigh of relief after a short silence. He turned around to face you and gave up his sharply determined pose. His stiff shoulders loosened a little. He looked over your appearance and suddenly looked away with an embarrassed face.You could see shy blush on his face again and realized that you were sitting and that caused your dress to wander somewhere upper. Too upper for your taste. You quickly fixed that and felt your face reddened too.. 

- I’m very sorry, it is really not the best way to treat your clients, I don’t know it would end like that…- you heard his soft voice with a bit of guilt.

- Where are we going now? - you asked, interrupting him. You felt pitiful, sitting helplessly on the floor of a spaceship, thousands of emotions and thoughts washing over your mind. You didn’t even know if you should trust him or not, but you’ve guessed it’s too late for dilemmas like this.

- We are coming back to our world, I entered the special code and this ship is able to take us back. - he told you and looked at your confused expression. - It’s something like a time machine - you click on the date and the ship is taking you there.

You nodded with hesitation, and looked him into eyes. He blinked rapidly at sudden eye contact.

- So, could you explain this situation to me? - you asked, watching him expectantly. You stood up carefully, shaking small dusts off your dress and straightening it.

Sykkuno looked at the small screen in the cockpit and cleared his throat nervously.

-Um, you know (y/n), it’s not really good time for conversation like this...- he stuttered, taking a step back and catching onto one of metal handle poking out from the wall of the spaceship. - You should better catch on to something...

- Oh, really. - You said, shortening the distance between you two. - And when it will be a good time for… - you didn’t finish the sentence again, because of the sharp turbulence which shook the ship and sent you right into Thomas arms. He caught you and stabilized you both with his iron grip on a metal handle. The next second you opened your eyes, you were standing in the shop again, with your arms around Thomas rib cage and his arm around your waist, the other holding for dear life to one of the showcases.

-Maybe now? - he answered doubtfully your unfinished question, breathing heavily and looking everywhere but not into your eyes. You slowly moved away from him, little by little stabilizing yourself and observing surroundings to make sure you returned where you were at first. Everything was looking normal, the showcases were untouched, the old man behind the counter was still snoring loudly. The cassette with the game was lying on the floor, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to touch it again. When your awareness came back to it’s place, you turned away on your heels with a plan to storm out of the shop and just think what happened, but Thomas caught your wrist delicately.

-Please. - his soft voice full of guilt almost made you wince.- Please, let me explain this before you leave.

part 3

[seance]

jatp as bodies of water

a character analysis based on this gifset.

first of all, a disclaimer: this was just me and @snakebitescar having fun , we perfectly know this is still a kid show and it’s not that deep™ but i, personally, find this type of speculations really interesting. kinda all or nothing, you know? i don’t usually dwell on more superficial hcs because i’m drawn to this kind of symbolism the most. that said we just thought we share, no pressure to rb or anything. i apologize for the small text but this got long i don’t want to spam anyone’s dash too much. 

luke as the ocean

I purposefully chose to use not just any view of the ocean, but a glimpse of a stormy one. What makes it so fitting in my eyes is that the ocean, by its nature, is limitless and unknowable but it’s not deceiving in any way. It’s powerful and overpowering but it appears as it is: vast and full of hidden depths.

Luke’s greatest strength is his energy, his uncompromising passion, his determination, his willingness to risk it all for what he believes in and for the people he loves. He needs to always be in motion, he needs to know he’s moving forward, towards something greater, something that will make every sacrifice and every loss worth it. Behind every gesture, every word, every action there’s something more, something deeper (like a wound that never really closed, an unfathomable regret, a simmering anger sparked by the betrayal of a friend).

He doesn’t really hide who he is or what he thinks but he will always, like the ocean, keep surprising those around him with new aspects of his exuberance, his creativity, his sociability. Just like the ocean, bound by no borders, Luke is free to be everything at once.

reggie as the lake

The lake can be peaceful and embracing or brooding and stagnant. It’s the only body of water that doesn’t flow somewhere, it appears motionless on the surface but in reality it hides dangerous underwater currents, unpredictable whirlpools and often deadly murky terrains.

Lakes represent the need for security, they are places of painful transformations, both cradle and trap. Basing some of our assumption on Luke’s words about Reggie’s less than ideal home-life, the parallel between the lake’s dual nature and how he expresses (or rather suppresses) his emotions came naturally. One of the main differences between Reggie and everyone else is that he’s never confrontational. He always works towards de-escalating the situation, he’s probably used to conceal any negative emotion to not add fuel to the fire, he tends to always follow and never lead.

This doesn’t mean he feels less than everybody else, every now and then those very emotions he tries so hard to control shine through and we see how actually scared he is, how he craves stability and security. He dreads any changes that have to do with the unknown or the possibility of his support system failing (“Do we all still get to hang out together?”) Just like the lake he’s both still and turbulent, constantly edging between relying on what is safe or taking the odd risk.

alex as the river

Alex was maybe the most complex to analyze out of the four of them. I’m a firm believer that anyone is entitled to their own headcanons and their own interpretation of a character but I must admit, I can’t really get behind some fandom takes that systematically reduce Reggie to his goofy side or Alex to his anxiety because as I see it, they both hold so much potential.

Rivers are an indomitable force. They flow for miles, from mountain to sea, sometimes dwindling but never drying up completely. They dig their way forward and they endure. Rivers are symbols of sensitivity and empathy but they can also be forceful and overflowing, almost too much to bear all at once.

Alex is highly emotional, for better or worse that’s what makes him such an interesting character. He’s not just his anxiety but he’s always straightforward about his emotions and his thoughts. Unlike Reggie we often see him question Luke’s opinion, he doesn’t shy away from commenting on the current situation, if he’s feeling anxious or happy or sad or angry he’s open about it, he wants the others to know.

Alex had to hide a big part of his identity for we don’t know how long and that surely played its part in worsening his fears but what we do know is that he had the courage to come out and live his truth, despite the negative outcome. When he decides to do something he pours all of himself into it, he’s proactive, he’s honest (sometimes too honest), he’s afraid of change but still faces it head first.

Just like a river plunges through deep ravines and spreads out over wide planes, he can act as a leading force if needed, making others see things from a different perspective (him talking to Julie about the Patterson, for example). He’s captivating and intense, Willie fell for him deep and fast and vice versa. Alex immediately offered the truest form of himself (his interest and his awkwardness and his anxiety) with no compromise. That’s part of the reason Willie’s betrayal stung so much I believe (“I thought we were having fun together” meaning Alex never thought of acting any differently from who he really is, what he was putting on the table was his raw and flawed self and Willie’s hesitation felt like a rejection).

Just like the river, Alex is committed and open about where he comes from and where he’s going.

julie as the waterfall

While every other body of water is somehow linked to the imaginary of life and death (the ocean gave us life but it can take it back just as easily, the river mythologically represents the boundaries between the two worlds, lakes are the dwelling places of monsters or other insidious creatures) waterfalls are usually seen as magical elements. They’re young, fresh, unafraid and most importantly, alive. They represent the calling for adventure, the restlessness that comes from wanting to always try new things, to explore your own potential.

Julie, above all, is her own character. All her relationships are deeply meaningful but they just add to an already strong identity. She’s energetic and she’s resourceful and she’s strong in the truest sense of the term because she isn’t afraid to hurt or to admit her limits (“I tried for mom, for you, even for me. I’m tired”). Julie is the main engine of the entire narrative because she represents, quite literally, the life force of the band. She doesn’t just go along with their wishes, she finds a balance with the boys and she isn’t afraid to call it quits when her trust is betrayed, she’s their equal in all things and she inspires respect.

Just like the waterfall rushes down perilously from any height, Julie launches herself in the new possibilities the band has to offer, she claws her way out of her grief and she gets involved without sparing herself. She’s eager, she’s passionate and she’s creative and she always has a new input to offer.

[isitgintimeyet]

Just A Friend

And onto the next chapter. Thanks for your support for this story, it means a lot to me.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta.

Hope you enjoy the next chapter

AO3

Previous

Chapter 8: From Dresses to Disco

I don’t have a huge wardrobe but, generally, I can lay hands on an outfit for most situations. For work, if I’m not in scrubs, I tend to wear plain black trousers and a shirt; for relaxing, I have more than enough jeans, leggings and comfy sweaters; for holidays, I have the usual range of shorts, t-shirts and sundresses.

I realise as I flick through the hangers in my wardrobe that what I am missing are outfits in the ‘dinner-dance-purely-platonic-plus-one’ category. And, what’s more, I don’t actually know how formal this thing is going to be.

Jamie was no use at all when I spoke to him about it.

“What sort of thing will your sister be wearing?” I asked as we met for coffee and a bacon sandwich two days ago.

“I dinna ken. A dress?” He hazarded a guess, looking a bit perplexed that I would even ask him.

“Long or short?” I persisted.

“Yes.”

“Well, which? Long or short?”

“Aye, one of them.”

“What are you wearing then... kilt? Black tie? Lounge suit?” This might give me a clue as to the dress code.

“I dare say I’ll be wearing a suit and tie.”

And that was as much assistance as I got from him.

I make the decision to go short. Partly because I don’t want to feel overdressed on Saturday, but mainly because the only long dress I have in my possession was purchased for a university Medics’ ball in 2008. And it’s crinkly satin with a side split and a wide leather belt that went with an over the top diamanté headband around my forehead.

Obviously, I will never wear it again, but I’m loath to part with it anyway. It reminds me of my time at university. Plus, it may come in handy… for a fancy dress party perhaps?

********

Geillis has decided, on the spur of the moment, to ‘jes’ pop ‘round fer a wee glass of wine’. That’s just a cover. What she actually wants is a ‘wee glass of wine’ while supervising my dress selection.

She takes a sip and reclines on my bed, casting a critical eye as I pull a few dresses out of my wardrobe and lay them next to her.  She’s not giving much away as she continues to study them.

“Well?” I stand at the end of the bed and stare at her, waiting for her comments.

“I canna give ye ma answer ‘till I’ve seen them all,” she replies.

“That’s it. That’s all my fancy evening dresses.”

She stares at me in disbelief, before gazing once more at the three dresses displayed on the bed.

“Ye dinna have any more cocktail dresses, then?”

I shake my head. “‘Fraid not. When I go cocktail drinking, I tend to wear something more casual. There’s not a great call for fancy frocks when it’s two for one cocktails at the ‘Slug and Lettuce’.”

She sighs very loudly and grimaces. We’ve had these conversations often enough over the years. She despairs about my lack of interest in fashion. It’s true, I can’t tell a Marc Jacobs from a Marks and Spencer. Well, I possibly could, but you get my drift. I tried to be fashionable back in 2008 and look where it got me— wearing a dress that resembled a sweetie wrapper with a headband that brought me out in a rash.

I sometimes wonder if the real reason that she has asked me to be a bridesmaid has less to do with being best friends and more to do with being able to control what I’m going to wear. I’m joking of course, it’s because we’re best friends— Geillis choosing my dress is just an added perk for her.

“So, I think ye wear this one.” She gets up, moves me to one side and quickly rifles through the wardrobe, giving a cry of triumph as she finds what she’s looking for.

I knew it—I knew she would remember that dress. She was with me when I bought it— a late night Sauvignon Blanc fuelled online purchase. She describes it as my “hello boys” dress. I’ve never worn it and this is not the occasion for its inaugural outing.

I mean, it’s a lovely dress— black with an off the shoulder bardot neckline and very, very form fitting. But totally not the message I want to send to Jamie.

I shake my head. “Nope… no way. Not that one.”

I point instead to a dress lying on the bed, originally bought for a hospital fundraiser last year. It’s very nice and infinitely more suitable— black with sparkly red splodges; a slight v neck and fitted bodice going into a flared skirt. It even has pockets.

Geillis raises her hands in exasperation. “Fine. Have it yer way. But, Claire, do ye no’ want tae mebbe try it?”

I grab the dress from her and stuff it back in the wardrobe, ignoring her last comment. But she doesn’t give up so easily.

“See what could happen, eh?”

I turn to face her. “I know what could happen. He’ll think that I’m after him and that I’ll be it. End of friendship.”

“But mebbe—“

I interrupt her. “No maybe about it. Besides all this is missing the point. I want Jamie in my life as a friend, the same way that you and Mary and Anna are in my life. I don’t want anything more from him. I don’t need any romance. Can you understand that?”

“Aye but—“

She’s still not willing to drop the subject and I’ve had enough. I drain my glass of wine and start to walk out of the bedroom.

“No buts. That’s it. Just drop it, please.” At the doorway, I pause. “Now, do you want another glass?”

She starts to follow me. “Of course. And sorry,Claire, I dinna mean tae annoy ye. It’s jes’—“ she stops herself before saying anymore.

“Ok... Shall we order a takeaway,then?”

As I head into the living room, with Geillis following, I’m pretty sure I can hear her muttering under her breath about taking chances.

***************

Jamie said he would pick me up at seven. I’m clearly still working on Frank time, as I’m ready with fifteen minutes to spare. I perch on the edge of a chair, trying not to crease my dress, smudge my mascara or run my fingers through my hair.

I must admit, I have enjoyed the whole formal dressing up process. It’s not something I do too often— my socialising tends to be of a more relaxed nature. But this makes a welcome change.

With five minutes to spare, the bell rings. I gather up my pashmina and clutch bag and make my way downstairs, my high heeled sandals making a clacking sound against the old floor tiles.

Jamie is waiting outside, next to his old french blue Triumph Stag sports car. Like he said, he’s wearing a suit—dark grey instead of his usual navy blue. Still with a white shirt and a rust coloured paisley tie. His auburn curls nestle against his jacket collar. He looks immaculate.

In a parody of a chauffeur, he touches his forelock, bows and opens the passenger door for me. “M’lady,” he adds with his customary half grin.

“Thank you, Parker,” I reply primly and arrange my skirt under me as he scoots around to the driver side.

I do like this car. It’s old, a bit threadbare in places and smells slightly of damp. But it positively oozes vintage style and glamour. Fortunately the hardtop is on as the clouds are gathering ominously overhead.

“I thought we were getting a taxi. Are you not drinking?” I ask as he starts to drive.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he snorts with laughter. “No’ drinking? What kind of rugby ‘do’ d’ye think this is? No, I’ll leave the car at the club and we can get a taxi, if that’s ok wi’ ye.”

We drive on in silence for a couple of miles. Not an awkward silence, just a we-don’t-really-have-to -make-small-talk kind of silence.

“I’d have thought you’d be wearing a kilt tonight.” I comment.

“Hmm, weel, I do like tae wear it fer special occasions, but, when the rugby lads get together, who kens what can happen. Trousers tend tae be the safer option.”

“You could always wear underpants,” I suggest.

He looks horrified at the suggestion. “Dinna be saying that tae a true Scot, Sassenach.”

“I consider myself suitably chastised.”

“Glad ye realise that.” He smiles and changes the subject totally. “Sae, on our table this evening, there’ll be ma sister Jenny and her husband Ian, and Rupert, ye ken Rupert, and his wife Morag.”

“Oh, so you know Rupert— outside of work, I mean.”

“Aye, we grew up together. And Ian too. Mind, he was a couple of years older than Rupert and me— same age as Jenny—and always used tae follow her around like a wee pup. I’ve only known Morag a couple of years though. She’s nice but verra quiet. She lets Rupert do most of the talking.”

“I liked Rupert.”

“He’s a great bloke. Best decision I made, asking him tae join me at FraserFoods. Ian’s a great bloke too. Ye’ll like him.”

Jamie pulls the car into the rugby club car park,  and switches the engine off. He sits still for a moment, staring through the windscreen. I can hear music coming from the large marquee lit up with lanterns and residing on one of the rugby pitches. Even though it’s early in the evening, there’s plenty of raucous laughter coming from that direction too. No doubt the bar has already seen plenty of action.

“Well?” I elbow him in the ribs.

“Sorry. I was jes’ thinking about how best tae describe Jenny.” He turns and smiles. “She’s the best sister a chap could want and a true friend— once she gets tae know ye. She can be a wee bit, shall we say, prickly, at first. And she thinks she kens what’s best fer me, as only a big sister can. She thinks ma life is no’ complete… no’ wi’out a wife and a couple of bairns.”

“Have you explained that this isn’t a date… that we’re friends?”

“Aye, I’ve told her that,” he gives a little laugh and nods his head towards the marquee.  “Sae she’ll most likely be in there right now scouring the place fer any suitable contenders.”

He gets out of the car and is at the passenger door before I’ve had a chance to unfasten my seatbelt and gather my pashmina around my shoulders.

“M’lady,” resuming the chauffeur role, he opens the door for me.

I clamber out, somewhat ungainly and wait as he locks the car. Even with my highest heels on, I still have to crane my neck to look at him as he stands up straight and adjusts his jacket.

“Shall we?” He gestures the marquee with his hand.

“God, yes. I could do with a gin and tonic. I’m parched.” Plus, I reckon I need a stiff drink or two down my throat before I meet Jenny. She sounds formidable.

“C’mon then.” And he leads the way into the marquee.

[milo-my-beloved]

chapter three of stupid things!

Read on AO3 // Playlist // buy me a coffee?

In the end, Kaz stays the entire weekend. It’s nice, Inej thinks, to have the house to just them, even if he disappears for an hour or so to get some necessities from his house. They don’t do much - it turns out Kaz hasn’t watched many movies, so Inej convinces him to stay on the couch with her and watch their way through almost every DVD she has.

Something tells her that Kaz is less interested in the films than in her, but she doesn’t mind. She enjoys the company; it’s nice to just sit on the sofa, her head on his chest. It feels like the entire world is calm,even if it’s only for a few days.

On Sunday, Nina returns to find them snuggled up on the sofa, and she nearly has a heart attack. “Inej Ghafa!” she exclaims, dumping her handbag unceremoniously on the ground. “You said you would text me.”

“Sorry,” Inej says, but she doesn’t feel particularly apologetic.

When Kaz eventually leaves, Inej feels like a small part of her is missing. It’s hardly enough to notice, but it is just enough to feel like a constant itch she can’t quite scratch.

Her phone pings, and when she realises who it is, she looks down and smiles.

Wylan

I’ve decided what we’re doing on Friday. Towels, swimsuits and sunscreen advised!

Inej can’t wait.

{o0o}

When Friday finally rolls around, it feels like a century since Inej last saw her friends and Kaz. He picks them all up in his shady minivan again, but when she asks where they are going, he just shrugs.

“Wylan insisted on giving me the postcode and nothing else,” he answers, “But I’m reasonably sure we’re going to a beach.”

When they get to the library - their new designated meeting point, apparently - Kaz’s theory is confirmed. There stands Jesper and Wylan, both holding their own backpack, and both dressed in shorts and brightly coloured Hawaiian shirts.

“I thought you wouldn’t dress properly!” Jesper exclaims as he clambers into the backseat, helping Wylan up. “You can’t go to the beach in a suit, Kaz.”

Kaz raises an eyebrow. “That is exactly what I intend on doing.”

“I know,” Jesper answers, an evil smirk on his face. “And that’s why I bought a spare set of clothes.”

So, when they actually make it to the beach, Wylan hauling a picnic he has made out of the boot, they are all wearing matching outfits. Inej had originally decided on a vest top and shorts, so she just shrugs the purple shirt with pineapples that Jesper has handed her over the top of her outfit, sliding her sunglasses down her nose.

Jesper is shirtless, his red shirt unbuttoned. Wylan can’t seem to take his eyes off of him, his own green shirt buttoned up all the way to the top. They wander off down the beach while Inej waits for Kaz to get changed, leaning on the side of the warm van.

When Kaz finally appears, Inej wants to laugh, but she has to admit that he does look good. He’s wearing his pair of black swimming trunks and a black Hawaiian shirt decorated in knives and skulls rather than pineapples and leaves. Inej has to admit that Jesper knows his style, even if this is something that he would never usually wear.

Once she is done admiring his new outfit, Inej realises that he actually looks quite nervous. His eyebrows are pinched, and he keeps fiddling with his shirt buttons.

“Hi,” Inej says, only slightly breathlessly.

He looks up, frowning. “I look ridiculous.”

“No,” Inej corrects, laughing. “We all look ridiculous. It’s part of the fun. Do you want some sunglasses?”

Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he nods. Inej grins and hands him the sunglasses Jesper has given her and he slides the aviator glasses up his noses, looking slightly more comfortable with Inej’s hand in his. She grabs a hat that she had the bright idea to pack just before they left, and with that, they walk down the beach, hand in hand.

Halfway up the beach, tucked away from the few people taking a walk down the beach, Jesper and Wylan have set out their picnic, including a deck chair for each of them. Cracking open the coolbox, Jesper grins and hands out some drinks and crisps.

“A feast fit for royalty,” he announces. Inej doesn’t miss the small smile on Wylan’s face as his hand brushes with Jesper’s, and by the look of it, neither does Kaz.

For a long time, none of them say anything. They’re too busy enjoying their meal and basking in the sunshine, lulled into relaxation by the feel of the warm sand between their toes and the crash of waves on the beach. Their last two outings had been so chaotic that she assumed this one would be the same, but she has to admit, Wylan has picked well.

Eventually, Jesper rises to his feet, stretching and yawning. “Right. I’m going for a swim. Anyone else want to come?”

Wylan nods and starts collecting their rubbish, shoving it into a carrier bag. “I will,” he answers, hesitantly unbuttoning his shirt.

“‘Nej?” Jesper asks, shrugging his own shirt off. “You coming?”

She waves her hand, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe in a bit. You guys go on without me.”

Nodding, Jesper turns to Wylan. “Race you to the water?” he challenges, before tearing off down the beach, Wylan chasing after him. Inej watches with a smile as they splash into the water, Jesper tripping over and falling face-first into the water.

“Idiots,” Kaz mutters fondly, and they share a grin.

Neither of them say anything for a moment, content to bask in the sinking sun and watch their friends shout and splash in the distance. After a few minutes, Inej reaches into the bag she has shoved under her chair and rummages around, producing a bottle which she hands to Kaz.

He raises an eyebrow. “Sun cream?”

Inej shrugs. “You look like you might burn easily.”

The sunglasses make it hard to tell whether or not Kaz is glaring at her, but he complies anyway, rubbing it into his arms and legs. “You can go without me, you know. I don’t mind sitting by myself for a little bit.”

“That kind of ruins the idea of a double date, doesn’t it?”

Kaz turns to her, his expression turning serious. “I mean it. I don’t want to ruin your day out just because I’m afraid of water.”

Inej raises her eyebrows, staring right back at him. “And I mean it too, Kaz. I can go swimming whenever I want, but right now, I would like to spend this day out with you.”

They stare at each other for a moment, both too stubborn to back down. Kaz looks away first, scratching the back of his neck and staring at a crab which is getting dangerously close to his toes.

“If you’ve got something to say,” Inej says, “Then just say it.”

He swallows. “I just… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“For having all these phobias,” he answers.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Inej mutters to herself, turning to face Kaz properly. She gently reaches out, taking Kaz’s bare hands in hers. “Kaz Brekker, you are the stupidest man I have ever met. We all have our own problems, and I won’t say they don’t matter to me, because that would be a lie. But I love you for who you are, problems and all, and I wouldn’t love anyone any different.”

He looks up at her, blinking a few times. “You think I’m stupider than Jesper?”

Inej rolls her eyes, squeezing his hands before she lets go. “I’ve changed my mind,” she announces, standing up. “I’m off to become a mermaid so I never have to deal with the petty troubles of man again.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just drowning yourself to avoid your exams?”

Inej toes off her sandals, smiling down the beach. “You can’t prove that!”

She stretches, reaching her arms up as high as they will go. The sun is low in the sky and the moon is drifting over the horizon, and for a second, she is certain that she could touch the stars if she reached just a little further.

“Are you coming, or what?” she asks, turning back to Kaz.

He pales slightly. “Uh, I can’t swim-”

“Oh, no,” she corrects quickly. “For a walk down the beach. You know, like every romantic movie known to man?”

He snorts, using his cane to push himself to his feet. “Alright then, my love.”

Inej raises an eyebrow. “My love?”

Kaz blushes, quickly wandering off towards the shoreline. “Shut up and walk with me.”

{o0o}

By the time they get back from their evening stroll, the sun has long since set. Jesper and Wylan are in the middle of a fierce towel fight that Inej predicts will end in a lot of sand in places where sand shouldn’t be. For example, her bag, which is currently half buried underneath her chair.

“Look who’s back!” Jesper crows when he sees them, a big grin on his face. If the empty bottles in the sand are any indication, it looks like Jesper and Wylan might have had a bit to drink. Again. “How was your romantic stroll, lovebirds?”

Inej blushes. “Fine, thank you.”

“Can we get food on the way home?” Wylan asks, scratching his nose as he shoves his sandy towel in his bag. “I’m hungry.”

Jesper shrugs. “Kaz is driving, but I vote yes.”

Inej stares at them both, her eyes wide. “We ate like an hour ago. How are you already hungry?”

“I am not equipped to deal with a hungry Jesper,” Kaz declares, heading towards his minivan. “So we can go to McDonald’s on the way back.”

Jesper punches the air and high fives Wylan.

“On the condition,” Kaz continues, “I get to pick our date activity next week.”

“I have no complaints,” Inej answers when no one else does. “But can we leave now? This has been a lovely evening, but I think I’ve been bitten by every bug on the planet.”

Kaz nods and starts herding everyone into the van, frowning at the sand that follows them in. He opens the passenger seat door for Inej and holds her hand as she climbs in, kissing her knuckles lightly as he lets go.

“Alright then,” he announces, starting the engine. “McDonald’s here we come.”

tag list! (ask to be added or removed)

@hrtbreakprincess / @tooindecisivetopickaurl / @kazcoded / @saltyfortunes

[specterchasing-a]

Hold On (Part 2) || Eddie & Alfie

TIMING: One month ago, directly after part one.

LOCATION: En route to the woods.

PARTIES: @yikesimonfire​ & @specterchasing​

SUMMARY: Alfie and Eddie have a heart-to-heart in the car.

CONTENT: Internalized homophobia tw

Eddie mindfully secured his filming equipment in the trunk of Alfie’s odiously yellow station wagon. As he took a step back to close the hatch, an idea occurred to him. He hastily ducked back into the trunk and unzipped his bag to pilfer for his camera. Now satisfied, Eddie slammed the door shut and walked briskly to the car’s passenger-side. The moment he settled into his seat, a pronounced frown settled into his features.

“When are you gonna get your AC fixed?” Eddie implored, his gaze settling on his chaperone. “Every time I get in this car, it feels like the air’s been replaced by uncomfortably warm dog breath.” He refrained from adding that it smelled like it as well. Alfie didn’t need to be subjected to verbal beration of that magnitude after agreeing to accompany him tonight.

While Eddie packed his gear into the back, Alfie hopped into the driver’s seat, helplessly turning the ignition repeatedly until the engine sputtered to life. Immediately, he was hit with a blast of cold air before the air conditioning unit forgot how to work. The ration of cool air was quickly replaced with a suffocatingly stale breeze. Alfie stretched over to unlock the passenger door and cranked the window open before rolling his own window down to allow a more comfortable airflow. Soon enough, Eddie was in the seat beside him.

A laugh reverberated in his chest at Eddie’s comment. “What do you mean?” Alfie asked, emphatically waving his hand at the dashboard. “It’s doing its best. Besides, parts are hard to come by.” That’s what he got for being cheap. What he needed was a new car altogether, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. The wagon got him from point A to B; that would have to be enough. It wasn’t like he needed a functioning air conditioner anyway, not that Eddie was privy as to why. “We can always take yours,” he offered with a small smirk.

“I hate to break it to you, but its best doesn’t cut it. It needs to do another car’s best,” Eddie riffed while opening the viewer on his camera. With the press of a button, it became a diligent archivist of its owner’s per view. Without warning, Eddie lifted the device to eye-level and pointed it in Alfie’s direction. He knew well and good his friend didn’t enjoy being in the crosshairs of his filming, but that never stopped him in the past. Why would it deter him now?

“Trust me, I would love to take the Mini, but it’s… well, mini, and you know that. As quirky as your car is, it has better storage options.” Eddie’s voice lacked interest—he found himself too caught-up in recording to have any to spare. “You have a nice profile, have I said that before?” he asked, slipping further into his seat as he rested his feet on the dashboard. Meanwhile, his eyes (and camera) remained fixated on Alfie.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Alfie chuckled as he shifted the car into reverse and eased out of his parking space. With his eyes now fixed on the path ahead, Alfie didn’t notice the camera focused on him. “You really should have considered that when you bought it. What would you do if I ever wasn’t around to lend my cargo space?”

The compliment that soon fell from Eddie’s lips made Alfie’s brow raise. His eyes flickered to look at Eddie, only to find that he was being filmed. “Wha— Christ’s sake, Eddie, would you turn that thing off?” A fire rose in his cheeks, coloring them a vibrant red. He quickly turned his head away, but was unable to avoid the camera’s watching eye. Damn it. He hated being recorded; Eddie knew that. “Or, I’unno… turn it somewhere else, at least?”

As the car reached the edge of the parking lot, Alfie applied the brakes and looked back at Eddie, the blush still prominent on his face. “And buckle,” he scolded — albeit playfully — with raised eyebrows. “Seriously, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Die, probably,” Eddie deadpanned. If he were to make an effort, his car could likely hold whatever necessities he needed it to. Alfie probably knew that, too. However, if he went that route, he wouldn’t be able to spend his time being a nuisance in the passenger’s seat. He much preferred reclining and filming to focusing on the road. A miracle happened the day he got his license, that much was certain.

Alfie’s reaction to being caught on candid camera inspired an impish grin from Eddie. He noticed the change of color in his cheeks—so did his heart, actually. It drummed desperately within his chest, as if also begging Eddie to rethink staring at Alfie for so long. Unfortunately, he rarely listened to what either of them had to say. “I can’t believe you hate art so much that you’d deprive me of my muse,” he said.

Eddie rolled his eyes, also playfully, when Alfie scolded him. “Not today,” he answered before he quickly switched his camera off and buckled in like he was told.

Deprived of his main source of entertainment, Eddie resorted to turning on the radio. Like everything else in Alfie’s car, the display refused to work properly. What should have been words and numbers looked more like hieroglyphs. Eddie briefly toggled through stations before a familiar tune (‘Hold On’ by Wilson Phillips) caused him to turn the radio off with evident disdain. 

A strange sensation tugged behind Alfie's navel at the suggestion that Eddie would die without him. It wasn't true, of course. With any luck, Eddie would go on fine without him; he had to. Still, the thought made him feel… guilty? Alfie's time in this life was growing increasingly limited. He couldn't afford to think about it now. It would only make the time he did have left with Eddie less worthwhile, for fear of causing him any grief. 

"Your muse?" Alfie nearly cooed. "Please—" his voice cracked. "I have complete faith that you'll find something better." Once again unable to make eye-contact with Eddie today, Alfie shook his head with a breathy chuckle and rolled his eyes. His attention was back on the road and as the seat belt beside him clicked into place, assuring Eddie's safety, Alfie merged onto the street to begin their journey.

It didn't take long for Eddie to begin fidgeting. He knew well enough by now that finding a suitable radio station in the station wagon was unlikely. Alfie wouldn't complain about the music as long as it kept the camera off him. But when Eddie abruptly cut the radio off, he successfully piqued Alfie's curiosity. 

"What was that about?" he asked, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes darting between Eddie and the road. "You trying to tell me you hate Wilson Phillips or something? And you were just getting onto me about hating art," Alfie teased.

Alfie’s insistence that Eddie would eventually move on to something better almost made him laugh. For years, his thoughts revolved around his reclusive neighbor and not much else. Alfie and Youtube; that’s what filled his days since he moved downtown. “No, I won’t,” he gently corrected him. “Besides, I don’t want to.” It didn’t worry him to voice his genuine fondness for Alfie, not when they had years of friendship behind them. At this point, it would’ve been more alarming if he didn’t love the guy enough to negate his self-deprecation.

“Wilson Phillips is not art.” Eddie emphatically pointed a finger at Alfie. “Not that song, at least. ‘Hold On’ is trite and cheap. And, all it does is make me think about the time I spent in group therapy as a teenager when our counselor insisted on performing an acoustic version at the end of every single session. Every session, Alfie,” he looked at his chauffeur with bewildered eyes. “She even made eye contact with us while she sang—who does that? I never felt like I could look away, not when she was tearfully pleading with me to break free from the chains. It was torture. Wilson Phillips is torture, not art.”

Alfie didn't want to argue about how quickly Eddie would (or wouldn't) move on. No matter how much Eddie didn't want to, there would come a point that he would have no other option. Besides, Alfie playing the part of Eddie's muse was clearly a joke. Or, perhaps more accurately, a metaphor for their friendship. All that mattered was Eddie had not meant it in a literal sense. So why had he allowed himself to become so flustered over it?

"Bullshit!" squawked Alfie, who was now fully prepared to enlighten Eddie about his previous love affair with the early 90s pop scene. Before he had a chance to share however, Eddie shared his own history with the song. Alfie's jaw slackened and he shot Eddie an incredulous look. "Every session?" he parroted in disbelief. His face scrunched as he imagined what kind of hellscape that must have been. Being forced to listen to acoustic covers was bad enough, but on top of awkward eye-contact? 

"Okay, yeah… no. I see your point," Alfie softly spoke after a moment. "Who in their right mind thought she was still fit to be a counselor after the first time that happened, anyway? Like — I'unno, you'd think someone would've had to question her capability or whatever at that point." 

"Still," he continued after making a point to showcase his disapproval with a series of disdainful facial expressions. "I stand by what I said. I think there's something beautiful in wanting to turn around and say goodbye — much like how you must have felt after being subjected to that special brand of hell."

Eddie adopted a tight-lipped grin when Alfie conceded. “Every session,” he confirmed. Looking back, he couldn’t remember liking anything about group therapy. Owning up to his issues should’ve never been something that required an audience. As extroverted as Eddie could be, he kept his cards close to his chest when it came to his emotions. Alfie knew him better than anyone else and even he didn’t get the whole truth half the time.

Eddie let out a terse laugh at Alfie’s final comment. “Real cute,” he snarked playfully before his expression became more serious. “It didn’t help that I hated therapy in general. Not only did it well and truly suck to talk about my feelings, but the only reason my parents even made me go was the whole… ghost-vision deal.” Eddie emphasized his annoyance by accompanying the tail-end of his sentence with a flippant flap of his hand. “Funny, that they pegged the one thing that made me happy as the problem.” His brow raised as he pursed his lips.

“But, uh, wow—sorry about the impromptu sharetime,” Eddie said when shame began to collect in chest. “Don’t mind me complaining about therapy while simultaneously making you my therapist.” He hoped levity would be the cure for oversharing.

Alfie’s face lit up at Eddie’s initial response. “I’m the cutest, obviously,” he chided with a lopsided grin. He couldn’t recall any previous conversations about Eddie’s group therapy, but he was well aware of his friend’s relationship to his parents. Maybe he had mentioned it before; it was truly a testament to how solid Alfie’s active listening skills were. “Fuck your parents!” his voice trilled. “Seriously — when have they ever cared about your happiness?” His commiseration was probably unnecessary; Eddie didn’t need another reminder that his family were awful. “Sorry… too far,” he added with a small frown. 

With a clear road ahead, Alfie lifted a hand from the steering wheel and maneuvered it around to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey, man, don’t sweat it — really. I will gladly take an impromptu sharetime over an awkwardly silent drive to our inevitable doom.” His gaze shifted to Eddie as he gave him an apologetic smile, allowing his hand to linger a bit longer than was probably acceptable. “Besides,” Alfie added, gently squeezing Eddie’s shoulder before returning his hand to the wheel, “that’s what friends are for, right?” 

It wasn’t often that Alfie referred to them as “friends”. The word was scattered few and far between, but that didn’t make it any less true. “From now on, that song is banned. We don’t talk about it. We don’t listen to it. It’s purged from our lives. What song? Wilson Phillips, who? Never heard of ‘em!” Alfie tilted his head in Eddie’s direction and peered at him expectantly, waiting for some sort of positive reaction to ensure he’d sufficed at making his friend feel better. 

Eddie glanced at Alfie in surprised amusement after his initial outburst. “You’re right and you should say it,” he encouraged in a light-hearted tone that didn’t fit the topic. If he didn’t try to lessen the weight of the conversation, he might have to admit to how much it hurt to discuss. He couldn’t risk letting Alfie know the extent of his damage. 

When Alfie’s hand landed on his shoulder, Eddie felt a lump form in his throat. Usually, he initiated whatever physical contact they shared. He didn’t know how to react to being on the receiving end. Alfie’s mention of ‘inevitable doom’ managed to ease his uncertainty. Eddie replied with a soft huff of laughter, his eyes shining with fondness.

Soon enough, Alfie deprived Eddie of his hand, but didn’t give him much time to be upset about it. He called them friends. “Oh, is that what we are?” Eddie asked with a teasing grin. “Could’ve sworn our relationship was more like whatever Bugs and Elmer had going on.” His expression softened, though his grin remained throughout Alfie’s condemnation of Wilson Phillips.

“You’re…. You’re a really good guy, Alfie,” Eddie said. “Thanks for humoring me tonight.”

It didn’t seem appropriate to continue down the path of shit-talking Eddie’s parents, no matter how much they deserved it. Eddie didn’t enlist Alfie on this adventure just to talk about all of his woes. If he was going to do this, then goddamn it, he was going to make the best out of it. Eddie deserved that much. “‘Course we’re friends,” Alfie returned with a playful sneer. “Though, I think you’re way off base with that one. If anything, we’re more like Bugs and Daffy.” His eyes focused on the road, but his mind was lost in thought. “Actually—” Alfie corrected, “come to think of it, that’s really fuckin’ accurate. Just, y’know, don’t ask me who’s who.”

In an instant, Alfie’s eyes were back on Eddie. Immense guilt crept over him for trying to turn down the invitation in the first place. It was glaringly obvious that Eddie was trying to involve him in his life; something Alfie tried to avoid with just about everyone who did. His heart ached. He didn’t want to refuse Eddie, truly. There just happened to be parts of his life that were better off private. But it wouldn’t kill him to hang out with the guy more every now and then. Well, given Eddie’s track record, it very well could. But it would be worth it… RIght?

“Listen, Ed… I know I’m a pain in the ass. It’s not — I don’t do things like this, y’know? I stay at home like the grumpy hermit crab that I am and that’s how I like it.” Apologies were never Alfie’s strong suit. It was rare that the words “I’m sorry” ever made it out of his mouth. “But I’m already pretty glad I came with you.” Once again, he was dancing the conversation dangerously close to heavy. Alfie mentally berated himself; he needed to keep things light. “But if we make it out alive, you do still owe me those Baby Ruths,” he teased, lightly nudging Eddie’s arm with his own.