#and i haven’t even once thought ‘y’know what i miss…… lesson planning’ or anything like that

[fingertipsmp3]

Just realised I don’t think I’ve missed teaching even one time since I left. Like, at all. It truly wasn’t the right career for me huh

[dolls-self-ships]

One Thing You Can Taste

synopsis: Hades and Kassandra go on their first official date, but Hades is acting a bit different than usual. Almost like he’s.. *gasp* nervous. You heard it here folks, the big bad god of the underworld is nervous for a date.

ship: pomegranate seeds 🥀 (hades/kasssandra)

(fluff, flirting, a kiss happens, yea)

It wasn’t the ritziest place in Athens, but it was quite a nice restaurant. Kassandra had insisted that Hades didn’t blow too much on what was essentially their first official date. Sure they knew each other and had… something going on, but this was their first actual outing together. And so far, Kassandra had been doing most of the actual, well, dating.

“And then I said-“ Kassandra said through laughter, stopping when she noticed Hades still sitting rather stiffly, which was wildly out of character for his usual relaxed and flow-y self. She looked him up and down with concern. “-hey, you’re usually talking my ear off, I’ve been doing all the work since we got here. Where’s the sarcasm, the witty jokes you always have, what’s up?”

Hades blinked. “Me? Oh uh.. nothin’ nothin’ just.. uh..”

“Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? With me? Pfttt nooo ‘course not! I.. I..” Hades waved a hand, attempting to mask his embarrassment.

Kassandra raised a brow, clearly not buying his facade no matter how much he tried to brush it off. Hades saw this and sighed, his shoulders slopping in defeat.

“Okay.. uh.. l-look-“ he rested his elbows on the table, making a gesture with his hands. “-Iiii haven’t been on a real date.. in.. a while. Y’know I got the Underworld to run and I got all these plans for Olympus and well you get the jist” he fastly explained, trying to mask his nerves with a cool smile. “I’m uh.. heh, I’m a busy guy you know?”

The princess cheekily smiled, feeling like for once she had the upper hand. “So.. you’re nervous?”

A moment of anxiety struck him, with it clearly showing on his face until the god (what he thought was smoothly) attempted to recover but putting on a faux grin. Hades felt he couldn’t admit such a thing, he was a god, gods don’t get nervous. “Nervous? Aheh- well- ah-I-I don’t know about nervous maybe.. maybe outta practice sure but..”Hades trailed off, knowing his desperate clambering to keep his cool was not holding up, the princess saw right through him.

“Alright” he sighed out “you got me red-handed- or y’know I guess blue-handed”

Kassandra giggled, making Hades’s dead heart resurrect itself. “It’s okay.. I’m nervous too.. how would you rate yours? Like.. on a scale of one to ten?”

“Huh?”

“Just answer”

“Okay um… 7….” Hades looked between Kassandra and the floor “and a half”

Kassandra stifled a chuckle, tossing her hair back and leaning forward closer to Hades, looking up at him through her lashes (and simultaneously inciting a tingling feeling throughout the god’s chest and stomach). She really had no idea, because he’d never let her see it, but the princess had the Lord of the Dead himself wrapped around her little mortal finger.

“Alright, we’re gonna do this together. I want you to look around the room and just.. name 5 things you can see.”

Hades was about to ask why, but then realized this was his chance to swoop in and return to being his suave and savvy self. Pretending to look frazzled by glancing around and tapping his chin, he rambled on “oh uh.. gee I don’t know babe, that might be hard since the only thing I’m seeing in this joint right now is you aheh~” he slyly returned his glance to her, with one elbow on the table and the other resting on his hip, complete with his usual cheesy grin.

Kassandra tried to hold back the flustered and giddy feeling he gave her, but her reddened cheeks gave her away. “Hades, I’m serious.” She smirked.

Hades chuckled, putting his hands up in defence. “Alright alright alright” he mumbled “let’s see.. huh..” he glanced up, spotting a somewhat humorous sight from over Kassandras shoulder.

“That waiter guy’s got a paper straw stuck in his back collar” He pointed over to the scrawny young guy waiting tables, prompting Kassandra to glance over her shoulder and look. A snort escaped her throat.

“Should we tell him?”

Hades shrugged. “Nahhh he’ll figure it out. Or hey be stuck with it the rest of the night, who knows”

Kassandra put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Okay, 4 more things, and they don’t.. have to be interesting by the way.”

Hades dipped his head in acknowledgment, scanning the room and pointing at really the first of anything he saw. “Hmmm alright, empty table, chairs… uh… artwork with a very suspicious stain on it, aandddd…” he drummed on the table, turning his head to the table. “Ah, menu. Boom, done, easy.”

Kassandra nodded. “Alright, good. Now list 4 things you can touch.”

Hades leaned back, still confused as to what exactly they were doing. “What is this what are we doing here, is this some sort of game orrr”

She shook her head. “Nope, not a game, just… something I do when I’m feeling a little on edge. Come on, let’s finish this. 4 more senses to go.”

Deciding to go with the flow on this one, even though he really didn’t see or understand how listing things that exist would help, he trusted Kass with this sort of thing.. you know.. feelings. They weren’t his bag but hers? She had the whole suitcase.

“Okayyy uhh.. 4 things I can…?”

“Touch.”

“Touch? Oh, well…” Hades’s expression quickly went from cutely confused to suitably sleazy as he slipped his hand underneath Kassandras’s, taking it while refusing to break eye contact with her. “there’s your… smooth skin” he drawled, using one finger to draw little patterns on her wrist and lower arm while gazing at the princess through hooded eyes. Hades then kissed the back of her hand for 3 looooong seconds before pulling back to see the princess’s pale skin glowing more and more red, which he thought was adorable. Hades casually leaned his arm on the table, taking a lock of Kassandras chestnut hair with his free hand, twirling one of the wispy strands around his finger. “your… soft hair hehehe”

Kassandra felt her breathing become short and her heart rate slowly start to pick up. She wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but she was a little embarrassed as they were kind of out in the open for anyone to see. And if her mother taught her anything, it was that getting all nice and cozy with someone in public was very unladylike.

“Hades, we’re in public.” She whispered, trying to sound stern but it just came out more coquettish than anything.

Hades’s hands retreated, next time, he hold himself as he tried to play it off smoothly. “Alright alright, um..” he let his hands rest on the table and started to feel around, gliding his palms over the smooth surface. “Oh this is some nice wood really smooth what is this mahogany? nice huh?”

Kassandra lifted her hand to feel the smooth surface, finding herself amused by how dramatically he was trying to hype up a table. But that’s just how he was, always trying to ‘sell’ something. “Mhm” she softly agreed. “Okay, one more thing.”

Hades sighed, leaning back trying to think of something. That’s when it hit him. “The chair.”

Kassandra smiled. “Perfect! Alright, what are 3 things you can… hear?”

Hades hummed, looking at the ceiling. “Well… there’s that loud fan that’s been kinda buzzing in my ear this whole time.” He and Kassandra let out a breathy chuckle after he said that.

“And all the people talking in this place is hard to miss dont cha think?”

The woman nodded, briefly glancing at said people before turning back to him. “Aaaanything else?? Just one more thing.”

“Hm.. well, just a second ago my ears were graced with the sound of your sweet sweet voice~”

Kassandra caved, letting out a girlish giggle as her head dipped. She was unable to contain the amount of butterflies he invoked in her. “Okay Romeo, who gave you professional smooth-talker lessons?”

Hades clicked his fingers, shooting her finger guns. “Years of practice, doll face.”

“mhmhm~ what are 2 things you can smell?”

Hades sat up straight, dramatically taking a deep inhale of the air around them. “Oh, mm, that’s a lot of ambrosia someone ordered. Might have to go over there, hah.” he sounded enticed, briefly thinking about how it would taste, which would be delicious as per usual.

Kassandra giggled, gods he was too much. She loved it.

Hades’s yellow-ish eyes trailed back to her, a softer grin curling on his face. “And your perfume.. mmm what is that that is just.. intoxicating~” he made a wafting motion with his hand, as if impersonating a wine taster.

Kassandra laughed, which for Hades, meant mission accomplished. He could listen to that laugh all day, all eternity even. It was like a warm symphony of sirens that rang in his ears.

“Okay.. last one.” She leaned forward, as if getting him ready for the news of his life.

“Hit me babe~”

“Mhm~ this ones tricky, but, what’s one thing you can taste?”

Taste. That one was tricky, they haven’t even gotten their food yet. However…. Hades got an idea.

“Taste huh?”

Kassandra nodded. A small gasp escaped her throat once she felt Hades’s hand slip up to cradle one side of her face. Her eyes darted back and forth between his hand and him.

“I could eh.. think of something..” Hades mumbled with a grin that was half dazed and half flirtatious. His words slipped away from him, too fixated on the princess’s full and.. smooth lips to concentrate on anything quick or witty to say like he usual did.

Kassandra was too breathless for words herself, she could feel her chest tighten as she glanced up and down Hades’s face, gods, he was handsome. Her eyes fluttered as they both leaned in slowly, and for a moment, the room felt quiet. Like they were the only two people there. And once their lips touched, oh, it was like fireworks had went off inside of both of them. Hades was sure he had melted the chair and some parts of the table at least a little by now. The kiss lasted for about 5 seconds before they both pulled away, a small squish noise emitting from both their lips as they separated. Hades missed the sweet taste of her lips already, and he couldn’t wait till later tonight when he could (hopefully) get another.

“Mm..” Hades moaned as if he had just a gourmet meal. “cherry, nnnnice~”

Kassandra, still a little flustered and dazed from the kiss, tilted her head. “Hm?”

“Your lipgloss”

Kassandra’s eyes widened as a wave of embarrassment washed over her. “Oh! Ha! Right. Um… of course…” she breathlessly chuckled as she adjusted herself in her seat, trying to sit up right once again.

Just in time for her, but less ideal for Hades, a posh sounding voice interrupted them.

“So sorry but, has this table been helped yet?”

Quickly, the princess began stammering, haphazardly looking between her date and the waiter that definitely just saw them almost make out in the middle of the restaurant.

And what would you know, it was the waiter with the paper straw in his collar.

“Ah,, y-yes, We’-we’re just waiting.” Kassandra declared politely, trying to mask her slight disappointment that their moment was now kind of ruined as she cleared her throat and looked at her lap, then back up at Hades.

The waiter smiled, “ah, very good.” And nodded before taking off.

Hades, despite his current gripes with that boy in particular for interrupting their little moment, stopped him in his tracks.

“Uh, hey! Kid, you uh.. got somethin stuck in your collar there.” Hades gestured with his fingers to his back, hoping that would get the message across.

The waiter hummed and reached behind him, pulling out the straw that had been stuck there. “Oh, uh, thank you, sir! That’s.. ha- embarrassing.” The now blushing waiter stammered, attempting to exit cooly with the straw still in his hand.

Hades chuckled. “You think he woulda felt that huh?”

Kassandra turned back to him, shrugging. “Yeah… I guess he was just too busy to notice.”

Hades nodded, turning his head and mumbling “not too busy to interrupt us though that’s for sure”

Kassandra gave him a look, to which Hades grinned with faux innocence, acting as if he had done nothing wrong. “Whaaat?”

“Hades, be nice.” She half-jokingly scolded him, if he was gonna be around her he’d have to get used to the whole ‘being kind to people’ thing. Again, no bag, her suitcase.

“Heyyyy I’m a saint! a cherub even” he innocently batted his eyes with a grin in likeness, hoping that’d get him to cute his way out of her disappointment.

And oh, it did, works like a charm every time. A melodic giggle escaped Kassandras throat.

A second of silence passed. “So… Wh-what was the point of that whole… senses thing we just did?” Hades asked with boyish curiosity.

Kassandra perked up, quite happy he actually seemed interested to know. “Oh, uh, it’s just an anxiety thing. I learnt about it in my years working with a doctor and phycologist, Hypocrities, he was hired by my mother for the kingdom at the time… do you know him?”

Hades’s eyebrows knitted together, remembering the time that doctor started curing actual dead people in his domain. DEAD PEOPLE. Ohh he knew him alright. “Yeah, yeah I’ve heard of the guy.”

Kassandra nodded. “It’s supposed to just.. remind yourself that you’re here, like, grounding.”

“Huh”

“So how do you feel now?”

Hades blinked, looking into the earnest eyes of the princess. He felt himself melting inside, his lips slipped into a rare, genuine smile. “Good, I.. I feel good.”

Kassandra beamed, happy to see he was feeling better now. “Great! I’m glad” her tone was so sweet it was like she actually spoke with little hearts at the end of her sentence.

Hades could tell this was gonna be a good first date.

[oh-obrien]

Inscrutable {4}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret 

Masterlist 

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

Word Count: 6,224 6,737

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Part Four!!! Uhh lots of angst and a lot about Finley’s past. Also Scott makes an appearance. 

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

Finley woke up when she felt a body shift underneath her, a small groan slipping past the lips of whoever she had been sleeping on. Whoever she had been sleeping on? Finally, remembering what had happened with Stiles, Finley let out a small gasp and sat up, smacking her knee on the wall in the process.

“Fuck!”

“Oh God are you okay?”

Their voices came out at the same time and Finley sighed, leaning her head against the cool wall of her room. Stiles’ body had felt incredibly warm against her, and while the cool wall helped calm her nerves, she wanted to curl back up on him and fall asleep again “What time is it?” She cleared her throat and tried to find her glasses. She didn’t remember taking them off.

“Like two-thirty?” Stiles squinted as his phone screen lit up, “here,” he handed her the glasses she had been looking for. “You know I haven’t seen you with them before today, yesterday, whatever you want to call it,” he pointed out.

Finley thumbed at a smudge on the lenses and sighed. Her eyesight had been the one werewolf perk she had missed out on. Her dad had passed it off as a human gene she had gotten form her mother somewhere along the way and took Finley to an optometrist when she had been complaining of blurry vision at a young age. “I wear contacts usually,” she yawned, her nose crinkling up while she did. She watched Stiles sink back into the pillows while she climbed over him and off the bed. She quietly shuffled her way across her room to unplug her lights, making sure she set the plug down carefully on the floor.

“Well, they suit you,” Stiles mumbled, staring up at the ceiling while he rubbed at his eyes before yawning. Finley smiled and ran her fingers along the arm of her glasses, a feeling of happiness bubbling up inside her with his words.

Finley turned off the TV also and let the soft glow of the streetlight outside her window guide her back to her bed. “Are you feeling any better?” Stiles asked.

Finley sat at the edge of her bed letting out a yawn herself, “yeah. I’m- I’m sorry about that,” she whispered. “I uhh-” she trailed off, “I’m not usually like that,” she settled on. She looked over to Stiles whose eyes were trained on her figure. Even in the dark she could see him rather clearly, and she knew he had his eyes on her.

“Well, it’s okay to y’know. Have emotions,” he spoke into the darkness of the room. Finley scoffed at his response and closed her eyes, she still felt physically exhausted, and mentally drained. “I was just trying to help,” he added. Finley pulled her socks off and paired them together, putting them on her desk. “And it’s too late for me to leave now,” he added.

Finley sighed and pushed off her bed again. “I’ll take the floor, you can take the bed,” she said walking over to her closet to get an extra blanket.

“Or-” Stiles sat up, “you can come lay here again because I think the whole physical contact thing was really helping both of us sleep better, and all my friends back home know I’m a very touchy person,” he cocked his head to the side.

“But-”

“Lydia wouldn’t care and I’m planning on breaking up with her when she visits anyway,” Stiles ran a hand over his face and rubbed at the stubble on his chin, he had really just said that Finley wasn’t dreaming. “Now that that’s on the table, come lay down.” Stiles didn’t leave much room for Finley to argue, and quite frankly, she wasn’t complaining about that. Finley dropped the extra blanket in her hands and sighed, walking back to her bed, and crawling over Stiles to settle where she had been sleeping earlier.

Stiles watched as Finley climbed back into her bed while he adjusted the pillows so they both had plenty of room. She pulled her glasses off and reached over him to settle them on the dresser next to his phone and their half-eaten food. She let out a small sigh while she settled down next to him. “Before it just, kind of happened, I’ve never like,” she stuttered out.

“Here,” Stiles knew what she had been trying to say and laid down flat, straightening his arm out along the pillows and pulling Finley closer. He felt her head come to rest on his chest and his arm curled around her back, rubbing circles into her side over her shirt.    

She let out a shaky breath and Stiles watched her eyes slip closed while she rested her hand flat on his abdomen. “Thank you, Stiles,” she spoke quietly.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” he replied before closing his eyes.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Finley paced the tiled floors of her dad’s office, her claws digging into her palms and the heel of her Under Armor sneakers squeaking whenever she turned on her left foot. Maxwell sat quietly behind his desk, watching his daughter’s movements, and waiting for her to settle down. Neither party was unfamiliar with this course of actions, and both knew they just had to wait out Finley’s pacing while her brain processed her thoughts. “I don’t understand it dad!” She turned around to face her father, finally sinking into the leather chair that faced his large oakwood desk. She held her palms out and noticed that they were bleeding. Back to old, and bad, habits. Finley rested her palms up on her dad’s desk to show him the already healing cuts.

“What don’t you understand, Finley?” He asked while handing her a small towel. Maxwell and Finley had always been close, Finley had been a typical ‘daddy’s girl’, and once they started working together, they only grew closer. Taking a deep breath and watching her claws retract Finley looked up to her father. “Your eyes are still red, dear,” the statement dripped with sarcasm.

“Yeah, and I’m still full of pent-up anxiety,” she retorted, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she looked in the mirror next to her dad’s desk to see them back to their normal blue. Maxwell laughed lightly while he watched his daughter wipe the blood off her hands off, the claw marks already healed fully and her skin showing no sign that the marks were ever there.

“I can smell it,” he laughed lightly.

“Thanks dad,” Finley glared at him, “but to answer your question, I don’t understand anything right now,” she ran her fingers through her hair, wavy from the tight braids she had in it the night before. She hadn’t wanted to confront Stiles after they woke up that morning and had spent extra time in the bathroom taking her braids out.

Maxwell let out a long sigh while he stood up, walking over to his bookshelf lined wall, running his fingers over the spines of the books, obviously looking for a specific one. He ran his fingers over several incredibly old looking books before his fingers settled on one that was entirely black. Finley watched him wrap her fingers around the top of the book before he pulled it out. “Here,” he set it down on his desk and flipped it open, some dust flying off the pages while he flipped through. “Read it.” He turned the book around to face his daughter. The text had been printed in Latin, but luckily for Finley, her dad had subjected the twins to hours upon hours of Latin lessons when they were younger. Something about being ‘connected with family roots’ and learning Latin being a ‘rite of passage’ in their family.

Finley saw the word at the top of the page, ‘Mates’, printed in the fanciest script she had ever seen. “Nope!” She told her dad, pushing the book back. “Let’s show you all that money you spent on foreign language classes for me, and Cian paid off. Non, Nein, Net, Ne, and again, No.”

“Finley Louella!” Maxwell raised his voice and Finley simply sat back, flashing her red eyes at her father, testing him to actually try and tell her what to do. “I keep forgetting that doesn’t work on you anymore,” he let out a long sigh. “Just please consider it, you know your brother and Clara are-”

“Okay and Cian is the perfect son! Finley replied, “he’s not testy, he listens to whatever you say, he can live in the same house as the rest of the pack, and on top of it he’s planning on getting engaged this year for God’s sake!” She stood you and started pacing the room again, the periodic squeaking from her sneaker filling the room again. “I just! I don’t have a mate, dad! I’m not- I’m not that kind of person.” She looked out the window and noticed how rain still fell outside. If she got lucky practice would be cancelled and she could wallow in her own anxiety and pity for the rest of the day after work.

  Maxwell laughed lightly and closed the book, pushing it to the end of his desk. “You know, your mom was a human too, Finley,” he said quietly. “And I met her my sophomore year of high school, I just felt inexplicably drawn to her.”

“I’ve heard the story before dad,” Finley grumbled and glanced at her parent’s wedding photo that sat on her father’s desk. “I just, I don’t think there’s always a mate made for everyone,” she sighed. Maxwell let out a long sigh of his own, opting to give the topic up for the time being, instead he turned to the files on his desk.

“On another topic,” Maxwell thought shifting to something else may make his daughter happier, “I don’t want to say you’re right,” her dad turned a thick file towards her, the folder open, pictures of a green-ish, wrinkled figure with pointed teeth inside.

“It was a Djinn!” Finley grabbed the file and picked up the pictures. “I had been saying that for months!” She smiled and flipped through the pictures, each one confirming the suspicions she had for months more and more. She closed the folder and noticed the word ‘closed’ stamped across the folder in red ink.

Maxwell watched his daughter’s face drop and sighed, so much for that attempt at cheering her up. “Finely,” he started, “I- you know we couldn’t wait to act on this case.” He told her. Maxwell looked up and offered his daughter an apologetic smile, noticing the disappointment spreading across her face. “We couldn’t wait for you to be able to go back out to Nevada to finish the case and-”

“And this- this right here,” she threw the file on to her dad’s desk. “This is why I didn’t want to go to college!” Finley knew she acted unreasonably on occasion, but it truly had been the only way she could get her feelings across for years now.

Maxwell stood up, and flashed his fangs at his daughter, his look telling her that she should check her tone. It being the only show of power he really had left against his daughter. Early on Maxwell’s family, as well as his late wife’s, had informed the couple that Finley would, with no doubt, eventually present as a True Alpha. The couple had brushed it off for years, just contributing Finley’s actions and mood to her ‘strong willed’ personality type. However, when his daughter had eventually presented as a True Alpha, a couple months short of the twin’s seventeenth birthday, there had been a rift that formed in the family.

Maxwell belonged to his parents’ pack, with his mother being known as one of the most powerful Alphas east of the Rocky Mountains. Maxwell’s wife had taken the bite shortly before they were married, and with luck they had a set of twins, both who proved to be werewolves themselves. Finley had taken on the role of ‘the boss’ in the pack’s home almost as soon as she could speak and eventually all the other children who lived in the house found their place behind her.

Maxwell and his mother had sat down with Finley after her thirteenth birthday and had described in detail the power and responsibility that would come with being an Alpha. Finley had brushed the conversation off at the time, informing her father and grandmother that she ‘didn’t have it in her’ to kill someone else to take their Alpha status and she also decided that True Alphas were too rare for her to become one. She hadn’t considered that her grandmother, eventually, wanted to pass her power down to Finley.

Once she had presented as a True Alpha upon returning home from a particularly dangerous undercover job that her father had allowed her to take the reins on; a rift quickly started to form in the Mannulv Pack’s home. There had been a fight for power between Finley and her grandmother which had resulted in Finley moving into the guest cabin for most of her senior year of high school, deciding it would be the healthiest option for the entire pack.

After Cian had gotten into a fight with his father and one of his uncles about the mistreatment of his sister he decided to announce once they both finished college, he would be joining Finley’s pack with Clara. Splitting a pack obviously hadn’t been Finley’s intention. However, with her grandmother’s temper being so volatile there wasn’t another option. The Mannulv Pack simply couldn’t have two Alpha’s living in the same household without it ending in both verbal and physical fights.

“Finley you know it wasn’t about you being in college,” Maxwell sighed looking at his daughter, who eagerly waited to interject her opinion.

Finley sunk back down into her chair and opted to rip apart the towel her father had given her with her claws instead of ripping up her palms again. “Okay fine, but you could have at least told me after you had closed the case instead of waiting,” she opened the folder and looked for the date it had been closed, “a week and a half for me to find out myself.”

“And you should be more concerned about your education for now,” Maxwell held up a finger to keep his daughter from cutting him off. “But I think the whole mate thing has you a little bit on edge right now. I know you don’t like talking to your grandmother-” Maxwell watched Finley’s lip curl at the mention of her. “If you give me a minute,” he laughed, “I was going to suggest lunch with your uncle.”

“I have like, four uncles on your side, that’s helpful,” Finley gave Maxwell a deadpan look.

“Your uncle Cayden,” Maxwell watched his daughter’s face peak with interest. “And he suggested Quarry House.”

Finley closed the file and shoved it across her father’s desk. “Okay, why are we still sitting here?” She grabbed her dad’s car keys off the ring by his office’s door and threw them to him. “And don’t give me the ‘I’m working’, crap. It’s Saturday you most definitely are working on your own time right now so let’s go!” Maxwell laughed and caught the keys to his own Range Rover, picking up his jacket and following Finley out of his office.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Stiles sat at his desk, a container of food from one of the on-campus dining locations in front of him, and a pencil in his free hand. He had been trying to finish his homework for his statistics class but couldn’t seem to focus on much of anything. Instead, he found himself typing out a message to Scott, asking if his best friend had time to video chat. Not even a minute later Stiles watched as a Skype call from Scott started coming through his laptop.

Feeling a smile pull at his lips, Stiles slid his pencil behind his ear and answered the call. “Hey!” Scott’s face was entirely too close to the screen and Stiles laughed hearing Malia tell him to ‘move back dumbass’ in the background. “Ahh the lady is over, hey Mal!” Stiles spoke while Scott moved back from his computer. Scott sat cross-legged on his bed, looking exhausted but still content, but girls seemed to have that effect on the True Alpha. A dopey smile pulled at his lips and his hair sat tousled on top of his head.

“Full moon was last night, man,” Scott shrugged, “gotta take the energy out somehow.” Stiles fake gagged and he heard Malia laugh loudly from somewhere in Scott’s room.

Stiles shoved another bite of food into his mouth, “I don’t need to know any more about your sex life than I already do,” he mumbled through the food. “That goes for you too, Malia!”

Scott sank back into his pillow and ran his hand over the stubble covering his chin with a guilty smile. “Speaking of sex lives,” Malia climbed into bed with Scott and sat halfway on his lap. She clearly had one of his t-shirts and the couple looked like they had woken up not too long ago. As much as Stiles had loved the time he had been in a relationship with Malia, he was more than glad she and Scott could make each other happy now. “Scott said you were staying with some girl last night,” she raised one of her eyebrows.

“Scott!” Stiles groaned and the werewolf in question just raised his hands in surrender. Letting out a long sigh Stiles set his plastic fork down and picked up his water bottle. “First,” he turned his head, so it appeared as if he faced Malia, “we did not have sex. Second I’m still in a relationship with Lydia-”

“Who you’re planning on breaking up with when me and her come to visit,” Scott cut him off.

Stiles waved his hand to dismiss Scott’s comment. Stiles knew he planned to break up with Lydia soon, and he knew most of his friends knew that already because Scott can’t keep his mouth shut. In his mind though, it still felt wrong to talk about.

Lydia had been his dream girl since third grade, and after the events with the Ghost Riders, he felt more than lucky to have finally gotten to call her his girlfriend. However, the charm of their relationship had worn off quite quickly. Sure, the sex had been great and so had their friendship beforehand, but they were just too intellectually similar to have a stable and long-lasting relationship together.  Stiles knew breaking up with her would be the best decision for them both in the long run, but he still dreaded it.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me Scott,” he sighed. “Can I continue with my train of thought now?” Stiles watched Malia slap a hand over Scott’s mouth and Scott must have licked her hand because she pulled it away and wiped her palm on his cheek. “Ew,” Stiles mumbled.

Scott and Malia both turned back to the computer with guilty smiles. “Sorry, Stiles,” Scott gave his best ‘puppy-dog-pout’, probably hoping that it could somehow get Stiles to ignore his and Malia’s flirting. “You know how it can be sometimes,” he added. Stiles felt a small pull in his chest, but nodded, nonetheless.

“I get it, no worries,” Stiles hoped Scott couldn’t pick up on how upset he felt though the computer. “But yeah, I went over to her dorm, err suite, to work on that project for intro to law,” he held up the folder full of documents he had printed. “And I felt terrible from lacrosse, because they show no mercy here apparently,” he saw Scott crack a smile, “yeah, yeah. Not all of us magically heal!”

Scott started to laugh, and Malia kicked him in the shin. “Jerk, listen to Stiles,” she mumbled.

“Thank you, Malia,” Stiles spoke. “Anyway, she insisted it would be fine if we didn’t work on it, she showed me how amazing a heating pad can be for sore muscles, and then we ordered dinner. Somewhere after that I found out she looks just like her mom, and apparently it’s normal to keep booze in your dorm?” That last part came out as more of a question. “Uhh she’s hot, like H-O-T, hot, found out she’s never had a boyfriend, somehow.  She actually got ditched by the guy she was into at prom for his ex-”

“What an asshole,” Scott interjected. Scott who seemed amused by Stiles’ rambling, and he would let Stiles ramble as long as he needed to if it would help him work out his feelings for this new girl he had found. Although Stiles lived across the country now, he still held his place as a member in Scott’s pack. And as an Alpha, Scott felt partly responsible for the happiness of his packmates.

Stiles nodded, “right?” He ran his hands through his hair and leaned back more in his desk chair. “But then she kinda had a little emotional meltdown and I offered physical comfort, then she wound up dozing off and I felt bad waking her up to leave and I fell asleep too. Somewhere around two-thirty we woke up, I admitted I planned on breaking up with Lydia, she got a little skittish and then we fell asleep again.” Stiles let out a long breath of air from his nose after he finished speaking.  Scott took a moment to process all of what Stiles had just said and looked over at Malia, seeing if she wanted to speak first.

Scott closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking, knowing he had to speak first. “And you feel this strong for this girl after only a week of knowing her?” Scott asked. He knew there were hook-ups that happened in college, but this, this wasn’t just a hook-up. Scott knew Stiles well enough to understand that much.

“Finley,” Stiles started with. “Her name’s Finley, but yeah. I just feel so drawn to her and I can’t pinpoint why I do.” Stiles knew something just felt right with Finley, he knew it the moment he had sat next to her in class, but he couldn’t figure out the why. Not knowing the why had been driving him crazy since Monday. Stiles didn’t like not knowing the ‘why’ in life. Finley was attractive, that couldn’t be disputed, but it wasn’t just her looks that had Stiles absolutely enthralled with her. When they were together it just felt right, the type of right he can’t explain.

  Malia looked at Scott and took her opportunity to speak, “sometimes you just know when you meet the right person,” she shrugged. “And no one’s denying you that, Stiles,” she looked at Scott who had hooked his chin over her shoulder. “But you haven’t even broken up with Lydia yet. You don’t know how you’re going to feel after you do.”

“I mean, I agree with her Stiles,” Scott interjected. “I’m going to be there when you do break up with Lydia, but I can’t move into your dorm and stay in D.C. afterwards if you get too sad.” Scott was only partly joking; as closed off and reserved Stiles could be, everyone knew that he when he felt he felt deeply.

Stiles sighed but nodded at the same time. He knew that Malia and Scott were right, but he also knew that he didn’t want to let Finley slip through his fingers when she was currently right in front of him, he’d never let that one go if he lost her so quickly. “All I can promise you two is that I’ll try and move slowly. Okay?” Stiles saw a look of disapproval cross Scott’s face, but he quickly switched the topic.

“So there’s this new beta working at the station and-”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Maxwell and Finley walked into The Quarry House Tavern and saw Maxwell’s youngest brother, Cayden, waiting for them in the overflow area. Cayden stood up with a bright simile and walked over to hug Finley, who enthusiastically returned his embrace. Cayden smelled like the pack house, he smelled like home, he smelled like all the relationships she wanted so desperately to rebuild but knew she couldn’t. He had been the uncle Finley was closest to growing up, while he was so much younger than his other siblings, and still in a different stage in life when the twins were born, it allowed them to form more of a relationship with the youngest of their father’s siblings.

“How’s college going, pup?” Cayden asked Finley once they had been seated.

Finley whined in the back of her throat. “I’m eighteen Cay,” she huffed out, flipping the page on her menu. “M’not a pup anymore. But it’s going fine,” she looked at her uncle over the menu.

Maxwell sat silent while he flipped through his own menu. Cayden raised his eyebrows at his niece before setting down his own menu, “and that’s why you smell like a boy?” He asked suspiciously.

“Dad!

“I took you here to talk to Cayden, Finley,” Maxwell still didn’t look up from his menu. “And I hope you’ll do so.” Finley took a deep breath and willed herself to keep her emotions in-check, especially the day after the full moon. She always felt extra emotional in the two days leading up to and after the full moon, and sometimes she found herself acting on feelings she knew she shouldn’t, whether it be with compassion or anger.

Cayden thanked their waiter who set down glasses of water in front of the trio, all three of them putting their orders in also. Finley made sure to order something large and messy so she would be able to limit her time speaking. “So?” Cayden asked again. “Your dad said something about you having met your mate?”

Finley looked at Maxwell and flashed him her fangs as best she could in a public space, assuring him they would be having words on the way back to his office. “I mean,” she shrugged looking at her uncle, “I honestly don’t believe in the whole, mates thing.” She offered her somewhat honest opinion.

“So, you don’t think what your brother and Clara has is genuine?”

“Well, I do, but-”

“Me and your aunt Gina?”

“That’s different, and-

“Your dad and your mom?” Finley felt her breath catch in her throat when her uncle mentioned her parent’s relationship. She also noted the uptick in her father’s heartbeat and the frown his face pulled into. Even with her mom having passed away well over ten years prior, it still tended to be a sore spot for the family; everyone knew not to bring her up unless she needed to be mentions in a conversation. Cayden, of all people, knew that the most; so, Finley recognized that her uncle wasn’t using her mother against her, but was using her to help Finley open her eyes.

Finley pulled her bottom lip between her teeth while Cayden took a sip of his water, trying not to lash out at him for mentioning her mom when she knew his intentions were pure. “You really can’t compare all of those relationships to my situation,” Finley mumbled, drumming her fingers on the table.

Cayden shrugged, “why not? All those relationships are ones where the pairs are mates. Where, at one point, both parties were almost complete strangers who just felt so drawn to the other. There had been no other word able to describe their connection.” Finley knew the story of mates.

Mates were two halves of a soul, separated by the Gods when the souls were given physical bodies to live within. Both halves spent their entire lives looking for the other, and once a soul found their other half they could never again be separated unless death forced them to part. Nearly everyone in the Mannulv pack had found their mate, their pack had been known for their success in finding their mates to the rest of the were-world. The pack had also grown at an exponential rate since most of the children were deemed old enough to officially marry their mate and make them an official member of the pack.

Finley would be the last cousin in her generation to find their mate. However, finding her mate meant that she would also be the first not to make her mate a member of the esteemed Mannulv pack. “I don’t-” Finley closed her eyes. “I just really don’t deserve to have a mate, and they don’t deserve to be dragged into my mess,” she mumbled. “My mate would deserve a stable pack to lean on, not, my mess. I uhh, actually plan to tell Cian he’s no longer welcome to join my pack with Clara,” she told Maxwell and her uncle. “Joining grandma’s pack is safer, it’s guaranteed stability.”

“Finley,” Maxwell said quietly. He hadn’t realized his daughter had been struggling so much with her family issues. He knew she had struggled in the past, but he didn’t realize that it still weighed so heavily on her conscious. Heavily enough to make the decision that years down the line her brother wouldn’t be welcome in her own pack.

“Stiles,” Finley said quietly so her uncle could hear. “His name is Stiles, and his best friend is Scott McCall, he already has a pack, he might be human but that’s his pack,” she saw her uncle look at her dad. “We,” she paused and took a deep breath, “Grandma has humans in her pack, and you see how connected they get,’ Maxwell looked at his brother to make sure he had also picked up on Finley’s slip of her tongue before he looked back to his daughter. “And I’m not planning on breaking up another pack because I couldn’t keep my attitude in-check when I was younger.”

Finley saw Cayden’s eyes soften and he reached out to grab his niece’s hand across the table, but she quickly pulled her hand away. “Finley, you can’t believe what your grandmother told you in the middle of a stupid fight,” he sighed. “Sure, you were strong-willed- to say the least when you were younger, but that’s not why you’re a True Alpha,” he told her. Finley knew the story of True Alphas; that they become an Alpha based solely on the strength of their character, their virtue and sheer willpower, but sometimes Finley didn’t feel like she had truly earned the title.

“I never- I never asked for this,” she dropped her cheek into her palm, watching the ice cubes float around her glass of water. “I never asked to be an Alpha. I never asked to,” she choked up a little bit, “to practically get kicked out of my own pack.” Finley sniffled, wiping away a couple of tears that had run down her cheeks. “I- I didn’t do anything to deserve it. I’ve just been myself. I lost my mom and my pack; do you know how many other wolves would be dead by now if they were in my position?”

Finley watched both her father and her uncle’s gazes soften as she used the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe away the rest of her tears. She didn’t like being emotional, she didn’t like to seem weak or easy to rattle in front of other people. However, she knew that the past week had been testing her emotional boundaries, and she had reached the end of her rope. “It hurt, y’know?” She asked the question not expecting or even wanting an answer. “Moving into the guest cabin it- it really stung. I missed out on a lot living out there, and quite frankly it sent me into a spiral I would never wish on anyone,” she spoke quietly but with purpose. “I’d say that was worse than being flat out rejected by the pack. I would have rather been kicked out completely than live a hundred yards away but not be able to see anyone or really go into the main house.”

“Finley-” Maxwell tried to interrupt his daughter, but she just shook her head.  

She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to keep talking, to lay it all out on the table, just like she had wanted to for over a year now. “Werewolves, we need physical comfort from our pack, their scent. You know that right?” Both her father and Cayden nodded. “Think about it, I haven’t had any of that really for more than a year now,” Finley mumbled. “I felt too awkward at Pack dinners because Grandma wouldn’t let me sit at the same table as her, so I just started cooking for myself in the guest cabin. Grandma never really wanted me at movie nights or anything because the pups would feel the tension, so I tried to make myself scarce.”

The year and three months of no true contact from the pack had taken a large toll on Finley. Two weeks into her isolation of sorts, she had developed severe insomnia. After a month she had dropped nearly thirty pounds and felt mentally and emotionally numb. She had missed a rather large chunk of several her cousin’s children growing up, missed out on really being a part of their life like she wanted to be. She missed engagements and pregnancy announcements. At weddings she had been expected to greet guests then sink back into the shadows. To other packs, her presentation as a True Alpha would been seen as a weakening of her grandmother’s power if they ever found out.

Her problems only started to get slightly better after Cian expressed his concern for his twin. He had started to steal pieces of clothing or bedding from the Pack house for Finley to sleep with and started making sure she cooked properly for herself. He would often sneak away on weekends to go for runs with her, help her to still feel somewhat connected to the pack. He spent full moons with his sister rather than the pack.

“No one intended for that to happen Finley. We just didn’t want-”

“Didn’t want to upset everyone in the Pack more than they already were,” she nodded. “I didn’t want to either, like I said. So again, making myself scarce just seemed easier than forming an even larger rift in the family,” she took a deep breath. Finley wiped away more of her tears and nodded, opening the conversation for her father and uncle.

Cayden looked over to Maxwell, but the two brothers couldn’t determine who should speak first through just looking at each other. Instead, Maxwell waved his hand and motioned for Cayden to speak first. “I still don’t understand what all of this has to do with you having found your mate. Shouldn’t that just help you feel better?”

“In theory yes-” Finley started.

“But,” Maxwell cut her off, “if I’m following correctly without a Pack to bring her mate home to, she doesn’t feel worthy of even having a mate since she doesn’t have anyone to show them off to or gain approval in their relationship from.” He looked to his daughter to make sure he followed her correctly. “Especially since he’s a human.”

Finley just nodded as their food got set in front of them, “ding, ding, ding. We have a winner!” She laughed lightly taking a bite of her sandwich. “And before you ask me why I can’t change that it’s natural instincts, werewolves want a pack, I don’t have a pack at a moment really, therefore I feel like a failure,” she put it into simple terms. “Even if I am an Alpha, I’m not really adjusted enough to function on my own yet.”

“So how can we fix the whole, pack animosity issue?” Cayden asked her. “Because that seems like the root of most of the problems you currently have going on.”

Finley took another bite of her sandwich so she would be able to collect her thoughts while she chewed, wondering what news she should break first. “Well, you see. Last night I kind of fucked up,” she trailed off.

“She had a little moment and her mate,” Finley glared at Maxwell after he said that. “Sorry. Stiles wound up offering her physical comfort because he claimed he’s just a touchy person, and he wound up staying the night.” He used the words his daughter had said when she burst into his office at nine that morning.

Finley saw her uncle’s eyes widen and she shook her head and waved her right hand. “No! No! We didn’t fuck,” she closed her eyes and let out a low growl. “We didn’t have sex,” she corrected herself. “He actually admitted that he’s planning on breaking up with his girlfriend in uhh- a week or two.”

“Now she’s more emotionally attached than she would like to be,” Maxwell added. Cayden nodded and shoved a fry into his mouth, clearly thinking.

He nodded slowly, clearly thinking. “What if we,” he motioned between himself and Maxwell, “talked to your grandmother and finally knocked some sense into her?” He asked, watching Finley’s reactions carefully. She seemed to bristle at the mention of her grandmother, her heart rate increasing and her scent giving off anxiety.

“I really don’t have a choice at this point, do I?” Finley knew that her dad and uncle talking to her grandmother would re-open old wounds and would bring to the surface problems long buried. She realized that also meant sitting down and talking with her grandmother at one point in the near future; trying to explain that she didn’t want her grandmother’s power but only wanted to learn how to harness her own power for when the Pack would be transferred to her.

Maxwell sighed and drummed his fingers on the table, clearly thinking about saying something to his daughter that she wouldn’t want to hear. “Finley, you also need to recognize that presenting as a True Alpha automatically means taking your grandmother’s place once she passes, no one else in the pack can take her place now.” Maxwell watched a look of betrayal pass over his daughter’s face while her heart rate exponentially increased. “I’m not saying that to scare you-”

“Then I should have been told that a year ago!” She raised her voice slightly, but promptly dropped it when both men across from her flashed their own fangs. “I’m serious! I would have tried so much harder to maintain a relationship with that old hag if I knew I would be taking over her pack when she bites it!”

Cayden jumped into the conversation again, “no one thought you were ready for that information back then,” he spoke.

“Oh yeah,” Finley laughed, “because I’m so much more ready now after being emotionally beaten down for over a year now?” She shook her head and took a long sip of her water. “I’m shit at math but, that just really doesn’t add up.” She grabbed her phone off the booth from next to her and stood up, pushing away her half-eaten food.

“Finely if you just-”

However, she didn’t let her father finish speaking. “It’s fine, the rain let up. I- I need to go, I’ll call you later just- I need time right now.” She quickly tried to gather her thoughts. “I’ll call you when I’m ready.” With that Finley quickly found herself on the streets of Washington D.C. feeling lost, only knowing one person she wanted to see in that moment.

She found her fingers flying over the keypad on her phone, scrolling through her contacts before she pressed on the name that she had been looking for. Holding her phone up to her ear while she walked, she listened to the dial tone, trying to control her breathing and push off her oncoming panic attack.

“Hey, everything okay?” She heard the voice on the other line pick up.

“No. Stiles, I- I need to talk to you.”

[kusunogatari]

[ Naruto OC x Canon Ship Week 2020 - Face to Face ] [ @naruto-ocxcanon-ship-week​ || @abyssaldespair​ ] [ Suigin Ryū, Uchiha Obito ] [ Alcohol ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ Trope: Online Dating ]

Nibbling her lip, Ryū stares at the slight reflection in her mobile screen. Thumbs flicker over the keys, not quite touching in indecision.

This is the closest she’s gotten.

The concept, admittedly, is just...not one she ever saw herself using. Online dating seems so, so...weird! Lining up your face, your name, a handful of facts, and calling it good. Is that really all it takes anymore? Sure, she...doesn’t exactly have mountains of experience beyond that. Maybe she’s just old-fashioned. But putting up something akin to a mugshot to try and find love seems very...strange.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Eeping in surprise, she claws the phone to her chest, face going pink and heart pounding. “N-nothing!”

Behind her, a coworker she knows mostly only in passing perks a brow. “Whoa, sorry! You looked kinda, uh...distressed.”

Ryū heaves a small breath. “...sorry, I didn’t mean to jump so bad. I just, uh...I’m trying one of those silly dating websites, and…”

The other woman quickly perks up. “Oh! Yeah they’re kinda scary at first but I met my boyfriend on one! I bet you’ll do just fine. Just be smart about it, and it usually all works out fine.”

“Smart…?”

“Y’know...meet in public places, tell someone where you’re going. About the same as a normal date for those like us, huh?”

At that, Ryū can’t help but deflate. “...yeah, good point.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. People gotta have their pictures on there. I take a pic of any license plates and send them to someone I trust just in case.”

Brow wilting, Ryū admits, “You’re...not exactly giving me votes of confidence here.”

“Hey, gotta be prepared for the worst, but the worst hardly ever happens. Besides, a bit of chatting online usually gives a pretty good indication of if something will even work. And you can always ask friends to go on doubles, too.”

At that, Ryū doesn’t answer. She...doesn’t really have many friends to ask, let alone any with dates she’d feel like asking along. “Yeah, good point. I’ll, uh...I’ll see how it goes.”

“Cool! Good luck!” Giving a wave as she passes by, her coworker heads around a corner and out of sight.

“...what am I doing…” Ryū mumbles to herself, looking back to her nearly-completed account. “I know this isn’t gonna work…” And now the less appealing sides are at the forefront of her mind. Maybe she should just keep her nose to the grindstone and pretend she never brought this up.

...but then again…

As much as she hates to admit it, she’s lonely. Being a pharmacist might be similar to her wish to be a doctor, but it’s not quite what she wanted. It just feels like something is...missing. And while Ryū isn’t the sort to assume all her problems can be solved by a guy (or gal), she’s still pretty able to realize that her social life isn’t the best. No real close friends, passing grades with her coworkers...not even any pets. Up until now, she’s lived life in a series of grinds. School, then work, and now...it feels lacking.

Hence the idea to try the app.

“...no harm in looking,” she eventually mumbles to herself, slowly going through the rest of her profile and hitting the confirm button. “You don’t have to go on with it, but...just look. See how it works. Maybe just...chat with someone. One step at a time, okay?”

Of course, by then her break is nearly over, so she mutes her phone and heads back to work. She...only ate half her lunch, but she’s not really all that hungry anyway. Only once her shift is over does she head back to her little apartment and...give this thing a real try.

At first, it throws nothing but male profiles at her. Which is all well and good, but...it’s not all she’s interested in. Looking over a few names and faces, she eventually bucks up the courage to pick one. He’s a few years older, lives a town over, and works as a physical therapist. Not bad, right?

...ugh, wrong.

As soon as they start chatting, she knows this...isn’t going to work. He’s all Mister Nice Guy, subtly bragging about himself and leaving only certain questions open for her in turn: the only things he wants to hear about, and...things she can easily see through as shallow. Eventually she manages to get him to shut up and quickly deletes him.

Okay...not a great first impression, but it’s not gonna be perfect the first time she tries. This isn’t a fairytale, after all. So, she tries another. And another.

After over two weeks of duds that don’t even get past initial chats, she’s about ready to give up.

Laying on her bed spread-eagle with a sigh, she stares up at the ceiling. What started as a vague inking is turning into nothing but a source of frustration. Not exactly what she signed up for. Weighing her options, Ryū eventually stirs when her phone gives an all-too-familiar notification sound.

Another match...wonderful.

Sitting up with a grunt, she opens the message and looks over yet another profile. At first glance, it’s just another guy. Ugh. The amount of lady-seeking ladies has been depressingly low, but...apparently those are usually on their own kind of sites. So, for now, she entertains herself with this one.

Obito Uchiha...huh. Vaguely sounds like her own Japanese roots. There’s a small spark of curiosity, adjusting her stance slightly. Short dark hair, dark eyes, and...well, his pics aren’t the clearest (he clearly knows his good side (or what he’s assuming is his good side since...it’s all she sees)). But she spies a cat. That’s a win. She likes cats. A glance at his actual profile shows a like of sweets, cats (aha!), and a dislike of...aubergines? Googling that, there’s a hum of understanding. It’s eggplant! She...didn’t know that...whoops. The rest of the summary (stuff about ‘being extreme’ and ‘having abs’) gets her to giggle.

Well...might as well give it a try.

Giving the okay, she opens up the chat window, nibbling her lip in thought. What should she say…?

Hello!

A bit surprised, Ryū jolts slightly, not expecting the quick response! ...hi!

I didn’t think you’d accept it so fast!

And I didn’t think you’d say hello so quickly either!

Oh, sorry...was that too fast?

The apology begets a subconscious smile. No, not at all! My phone is usually pretty quiet is all. Sorry if I’m awkward, I’m...still kinda new at this.

Ha, me too. I haven’t had too many matches yet, so I’m still practicing.

Guess we can practice together! Though I have to ask you…

...eh?

What’s your kitty’s name?

Oh! Her name is Tenebris.

Aww, I love that name!

She’s my lady, haha! Helps me reel in the girls ;D

Ryū can’t help a snort. Well it seems to be working. I don’t have any pets, sadly…

What? None at all?

No...I work a lot so I haven’t gotten around to it. And I don’t want them to be lonely!

Bah, cats are good at being alone. Feed them and clean their box and you’re fine.

I’ll have to think about it, haha~

After a few minutes, Ryū realizes...this is the longest she’s talked to someone on here yet. Sure, it was a little stiff to start, but by some grace they just sort of...fell into conversation. No posturing or anything. It’s rather...refreshing! Encouraged, she keeps texting as she starts working on her dinner.

So what kind of work do you do?

I’m a pharmacist! Not quite the doctor I planned on, but it works.

Ohhh, wow!

What about you?

There’s quiet for a few minutes, and Ryū can’t help but wonder if that was a bad question. But then Obito replies, Sorry, my cat got stuck behind the couch...I uh...am currently working on a garbage truck part time…

She blinks. That’s...very random. Nothing wrong with that. It’s an important job, after all!

Eh, yeah...not very charming though, is it?

Oh, pffft. I stand behind a counter all day and give people medicine over and over. It’s not exactly exciting most days. We all make our ends meet somehow.

I guess that’s true.

Smiling at her phone, Ryū keeps cooking and chatting, giving play-by-plays as he asks what she’s making.

Do you like cooking?

Mhm! Food’s one of those things that’s both a necessity, and yet can be fancy when you want it to be, so...I thought it would be good to learn. And it’s a lot of fun!

I’m...okay at it.

Maybe I can give you some lessons down the road, hm?

You would?

Sure! It’d be something fun to do.

Like a first date?

At that, Ryū pauses. Right...dating. That’s what this is all for. She almost forgot… Sure! If that’s something you’d like to do. I guess dinner and a movie is pretty common for that. We’ll just make our own!

I’d really like that!

Cheeks warming, Ryū beams at the screen. I guess...it’s a date! Eventually. Whenever we can make something work, and maybe talk a little more…?

Sure! I take a lot of random side jobs so I can be a little flaky…

That’s okay - we’ll just keep chatting until then. You’re actually the first person that’s been fun to talk to…

He sends a big smile emoji. Success!

You’ll have to think about what we should make! I have to warn you, I like making dessert, too…

Oh no...my biggest weakness…

And no eggplant, right?

Eugh, no.

Haha, noted!

The conversation runs well into the evening until Ryū admits she’d best get to bed. Guess I’ll talk to you some more later, okay?

Mhm!

Say hi to Tenebris for me!

Haha, I will! Goodnight Ryū.

Night, Obito.

Checking her other messages, Ryū plugs in her mobile to charge before mulling over the evening. As she does, a smile slowly pulls at her lips.

Well, she can’t make any assumptions yet, but...this is a good start.

Chatting with Obito quickly becomes a routine. Though not much of a texter before, she checks in and quips with him throughout the day. He tells her about his latest jobs, and she notes anything out of the ordinary at work. Days blend into a week, and then two.

“So…”

“Hm?”

Leaning against the counter, Ryū’s coworker smirks. “Seems to me you hooked one, huh?”

Her cheeks flush pink. “Um...maybe…”

“You haven’t put your phone down for more than fives minutes all day!”

The pink gets darker as the other woman laughs.

“I’m glad! So, you gonna see him?”

“Yeah, eventually...I think we’re both a little nervous.”

“That’s adorable. You’ll have to let me know how it goes! Been nice seeing you look so bright lately.”

Ryū blinks. “...really?”

“Yeah. No offense, but...ever since I’ve worked here, you’ve been so quiet and to yourself. But lately you’ve just seemed more upbeat and...I dunno, out there.”

The observation admittedly takes her a bit off-guard. “...oh…”

“It’s just nice to see you look happy, that’s all. I know a job like this one’s kinda drudgy. Glad you’ve got something to keep your chin up.” With a smile, the other pharmacist straightens and heads back to work.

Still a bit struck, Ryū mulls all that over. True, she’s always been one to keep her nose to the grindstone. Maybe having a bit of a social outlet just...got her going to opening up some more.

...huh.

So...any openings in your schedule coming up?

Uh...I haven’t really checked lately. One sec!

Waiting for Obito’s reply, Ryū nibbles her thumbnail. She’s going to do it. She’s going to ask him over. By now she’s gotten to know him pretty well. She’s always been able to trust her gut, and...she believes she can trust him.

Though just in case, she’ll be letting her neighbor know when he comes to visit.

Just to be safe.

So I think I actually have Sunday clear. Does that work with you?

Yeah! I’m always on a Monday through Friday schedule, so weekends are almost always good with me!

Okay...cool!

Any idea what you wanna make?

Make?

Yeah! Remember, we talked about cooking…?

Ohhh, yeah! Uh...honestly I don’t have any preference.

You sure?

Yeah, just no aubergines.

I remember, haha.

Should I bring anything?

Nah, I’ll handle it. Though I guess if you have a movie you’d like to watch?

Ooh, okay! Uh...any you don’t like?

Maybe nothing too gory…?

Aw, that’s no fun!

I saw enough in medical school, believe me...it’s not fun.

Okay, okay. I’ll pick something.

And with a few other details hashed out...they have a date scheduled.

Ryū’s stomach can’t stop fluttering: both in excitement, and in nerves. She hasn’t really dated since college...what if she does something stupid? Offends him somehow? Or something just goes...wrong?

Okay, no, stop it. It’s gonna be fine. You’ve talked a lot, so...no need to be nervous. Just do it!

By the time Sunday rolls around, she’s as ready as she’ll ever be.

Fiddling with her hair in the bathroom mirror (can she EVER get it to do what she wants?), she jumps as someone knocks on the door. Trying to manage her nerves, she peers through the little peephole, spying what indeed looks to be Obito.

Taking a moment to steady her breath, she pulls open the door and looks up just as he looks over.

...oh.

She always thought his photo gallery on his profile was a bit...empty. At first she hadn’t really noticed that all of Obito’s photos had been taken showing one side of his face.

So only now, with him looking straight at her, does she see what he’s been hiding.

The apprehension in his face clearly shows he’s awaiting her reaction, and at first she can only blink. Eyes naturally slide to the right side where a plethora of scars mar the skin from his brow to his chin. One even reaches up into his lip.

But though it’s a surprise by novelty, it otherwise does nothing to hinder the blush in her face.

...gosh he’s handsome.

Her gaze lingers on the scars for only a moment before lifting back to his eyes, cheeks rosy and giving a demure smile. “...hi.”

“...hey.”

There’s a few beats of awkward silence, the pair of them stuck staring at each other. “...s-sorry! Um...come on in!” Ryū steps aside, going hotter in the face. A nice button-up shirt and clean jeans make him look quite snazzy. Seems her blouse and skirt wasn’t too much or too little. They hadn’t really breached any ideas about how formal to be…

Stepping in, Obito glances around before clearing his throat. From behind his back he draws a little bouquet of flowers. “Er...for you.”

Ryū’s greys alight with delight. “Oh!” It’s cliché as all hell, but she loves them. Delicately accepting the blooms, she gives them a sniff before beaming at him. “Thank you! I, er...I don’t have anything for you…”

“That’s okay! I mean, food’s good with me, heh.”

Giving a giggle, Ryū retreats to the kitchen to put them in some water, setting the vase on her little table. “There…!”

“You...have a really nice apartment!”

“Thank you...I’m always either working or tired, so I don’t manage to mess it up much,” she laughs. “I tried to make it kinda...cute. I’m not exactly an interior designer.”

“No, it’s nice. It suits you.”

That makes her go pink all over again. “...s-so! Um...are you hungry…?”

Obito gives a grin. “Always!”

“Okay! Um...I thought we’d do something a bit...basic? Just in case? Do you like spaghetti…?”

“Yeah!”

“...okay! Cool. Um…” Awkwardness creeping back up, she claps her hands and giggles nervously. “Then, I...guess we’ll give it a try!”

The pair move back into the kitchen, where Ryū already has everything sorted out and ready to go. “Wow...looks professional.”

“Oh gosh, it’s just…” She gestures vaguely. “...I wanted to be ready so we wouldn’t waste any time…” Turning on the heat under the water, she thinks to ask, “...no food allergies, right?”

“No. At least...none I’ve found…? And I’ve had spaghetti before, it should be fine, hm?”

“Okay!”

A bit stuttery at first, she starts guiding him through her process, letting him take most of the reins and acting more as a guide. Obito listens attentively, looking exceedingly focused.

...it’s adorable.

“Okay, so with the grease drained off, we can add our sauce...and once it’s all combined, that’ll be that!” She, in the meantime, worked on a salad mix. “And the garlic bread should be about done, too!”

“You make this all seem so easy.”

She flushes pink. “It...just takes practice! And you did really well!”

“I had a good teacher.”

Once it’s all finished, the pair of them ferry things to the table. “Okay...you try it first.”

“Me?”

“Mhm! You made it, right?”

Glancing to his plate, Obito twirls some noodles onto his fork, lightly pink at Ryū’s watching as he takes the bite and chews. “...it’s good!”

Beaming again, she follows suit. And it’s perfect! Mouth still full, she gives a thumbs-up, making him laugh. Between spaghetti, salad, garlic bread, and a little wine, they get through dinner with hearty conversation and increasing laughter.

“I dunno why I was so nervous,” she admits once they’re done, a cheek leaning against a fist as she twirls the last few sips of her wine. “I mean...we’ve been talking so much already. Guess I just felt kinda...out of practice. Y’know?”

“Yeah, me too. Though I try to bravado my way through things.”

“Well, we got through it. Should we play the movie…?”

“Sure!” He holds up a thumbdrive, grinning. “From my collection.”

“Oho!”

With a refill of wine, they move into the little living room of the apartment, Obito hooking up the TV and starting the film.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see!”

“Not gory, right?”

“Nooo. But...maybe a little scary.”

“Scary is okay. I like spooks. Just not lotsa blood and flesh and…” Her nose wrinkles. “...y’know.”

“Ha, yeah.”

They settle on the one couch she has, and at first sit...a little ways apart. They’d had opposite sides of the table before, and...well, this is new. But like a couple of dumb teenagers, they slowly meander their way closer, testing the other’s boundaries as they go until Ryū finds herself snuggled up against Obito’s side, head on his shoulder.

Obito, just out of her line of sight, is clearly ecstatic.

The movie starts out tame, but true to his word, it quickly takes on a rather creepy tone. Transfixed, Ryū stares at the screen, slowly worming her way further and further into the dip of Obito’s side.

...if she weren’t so focused on the movie, she’d realize that was likely his plan.

Obito, on the other hand, has technically already seen this one, and instead mostly watches for her reactions. The closer they get to a big scare, the more often he looks, biting back a grin until it finally happens -!

Shrieking in terror, Ryū scrambles for someplace to hide, and...ends up burrowing into his chest with a string of garbled, frightened nonsense as Obito does his best not to laugh.

“You okay?”

“I -! That -!” Her head shakes with a whimper, still hiding. “Nope. Nope nope nope.”

“Want me to stop it?”

“...nooo…” One grey peeks out, finding the screen a bit more bearable now. “...that was fricken’ terrifying! Ohhh my gosh!”

He just snickers, ignoring her continuing whines of discomfort. “It’s almost over, don’t worry.”

To his delight, she remains half-perched on his lap for the rest of the film. Once the credits start to creep up the screen, she loses her tension and goes limp. “...I almost had a heart attack…”

“Aw…”

“I mean it was good! But cripes, I wasn’t ready...eugh…”

Obito rubs a hand along her back, still clearly amused. “Gonna be able to sleep tonight?”

“...I better, I have work in the morning…”

He apologizes, watching as she tears herself from the couch and disappears into the kitchen. “...Ryū?”

No answer.

Brow furrowing, he makes to follow just in time to see her pull a pan out of the refrigerator. “What’s that?”

“Peach cobbler,” she sniffs, setting it on the counter and then fetching vanilla ice cream. “This is my reward for surviving your movie.”

“You’re gonna eat the whole pan?”

She shoots him a pout. “...maybe.”

He mirrors the look. “...I want some…”

“You have to promise never to scare me like that again.”

“Okay, okay. But wasn’t it at least a little fun…?”

Scooping the food into bowls, she thinks back over how nice and warm it was in his arms...and she could smell his cologne… “...maybe a little.”

They stay standing in the kitchen, leaned against the counter as they eat their dessert. Though not as lively as before, they chat in the quiet.

“So...on a scale of one to ten, how was our date?”

Ryū sucks on her spoon with a thoughtful hum. “...a nine.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why not a ten?”

“Because you scared the bejesus out of me!” After a moment to pout, she asks, “...you?”

“A ten.”

“...really?”

“Good food, good movie...good company. What’s not to love?”

She...isn’t sure how to respond to that, so she takes another bite to excuse her silence.

“We’ll have to try cooking something else next time. Something spicy!”

“Not too spicy, it’ll make me sick!”

“Whaaat?”

“I have a delicate stomach...nothing too greasy, either.”

“That’s all the good food!” he laughs.

“It’s not my fault!”

“Fine, fine...we’ll figure something out. I’ll have to find some of my grandmother’s recipes. From Quebec.”

That earns a blink. She thought she heard traces of an accent in his voice, but didn’t want to assume. “...sure! I’d really like that.”

But eventually, the bowls and the wine glasses are empty. The movie is over. The hour is growing late.

It’s time to call it a night.

...but it’s clear neither of them really want to.

Obito offers to help tidy up, and that helps take a little more time. But once that’s done, there’s really no more excuses.

“...well…” Ryū fidgets a bit. “Guess I’ll...say goodnight?”

“Yeah, I better go. Don’t want to keep you up to late. And I’ve got my route in the morning.”

“Mm…”

She walks him to the front door, the pair of them lingering in the opening for a long moment. “...be safe on your way home. Text me to let me know you made it okay, all right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And to say goodnight.”

“...again.”

“...yeah, again.”

Another pause.

Indecision seeming to make her bones vibrate, Ryū eventually makes up her mind. Stepping up a bit closer, she lays a hand against Obito’s chest and - with a bit of posturing up on her toes - she gives him a feather-light press of her lips to his.

Flashing pink, he nonetheless reciprocates, both of them easing slowly back apart.

“...goodnight, Obito.”

“...night, Ryū. I’ll...talk to you later.”

Nodding with a shy smile, she watches him head down the hall before forcing herself to shut the door. For a moment, she stands and holds the knob...then turns and leans against it with a sigh.

...it seems so quiet in here now…

Eyes lift to her little dining room table, where the flowers he brought her are still sitting in their vase. The sight brings her a small smile. As much as she’s sad to see him go...well, that just means she’ll get to look forward to seeing him again next time.

Next time...what a lovely concept.

Heaving a more contented breath, she makes her way back into the apartment. Time to get ready for bed, and wait to hear he got home okay. Then she’ll sleep, and start all over again.

...but at least now there’s something to look forward to.

     All righty, another day, this one with Ryū’s ship with @abyssaldespair​‘s Obito, set in a modern verse! I had...several ideas for these two, and picking one was difficult and ended up costing me time BUT, it’s done xD      Hopefully I can get MORE done :’D      But yes! This was actually an idea Meg submitted to me, with the premise based largely on Obito hiding his appearance on his profile until the big reveal! Ryū, of course, doesn’t mind his scars no matter the verse. She still thinks he’s one cute cookie x3      Anywho, I guess that’s...really all there is to say for this one! Hope ya like it Meg, and I better get to work on more drabbles xD

[jojparasol]

storms [part three to silver springs]

Ah, it’s finally here! I apologise for not posting in such a long time but here it is. The final part. As usual, it’s a Fleetwood Mac song. I’d like to thank everyone who has read all the other parts x

Part one , Part two

The one where Y/N is getting back up on her feet but then they meet again.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing and angst??

Y/N had to admit, life’s quite alright. She felt like she was free with no sort of worries on her shoulder, staying at home with no care in the world. So when her friend invited her to lunch, she happily obliged, getting out of the usual scenery of her cosy apartment. It was refreshing, to say the most. But once Y/N had finally gone out to see the outside world, she realised how much she preferred a familiar view rather than a crowded one. 

So when a few hours drifted away, Y/N waved her goodbyes to Brielle, clutching onto her handbag under her armpit as she ambled in the other direction. Her small heels made a slight clicking sound against the hard concrete floor as she adjusted her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. She cursed slightly at how far she parked because the restaurant Brielle insisted on was quite the tourist attraction with quirky drinks and mouth-watering food. Hearing a ding from her phone, Y/N couldn’t help but pull it out. Now, she knows it’s a little dangerous to walk on the streets with her head in her phone and quite annoying to any passerby but to her defence, it would be the quickest glimpse.   

But of course, it was dangerous. And she learnt her lesson when she bumped into something and with the sudden startle, her phone left her hand as the sound of it kissing the ground ringed through her ears. 

“Holy shit.” 

Taking off her sunglasses to get a clear vision, she looked up and frowned at the all too familiar face.

“Always told you to look where you’re goin’.” Harry chuckled, running a hand through his hair as she stepped back, leaving a generous amount of space between Harry, the phone and her. 

She let out a heavy breath, shaking her head in disbelief at fate as she bent her knees to pick up her phone, examining the now cracked screen. “Fuck.” 

Y/N pulled the sleeve of her cream sweater with her fingers, covering the palm of her hand so she could rub circles around the black screen. Harry watched in amusement at the whole situation, thanking his luck that he got to see her again. He took advantage of being able to note every single detail on the way she looked today since Y/N was too distracting in testing if her phone works or not. 

Harry realised she had her hair curled a little more than usual and got a small trim. She was wearing makeup but it wasn’t much - only gloss and blush. She also looked a little taller, considering that she had replaced her old Nike shoes with a beige strapped heel. But other than that, she didn’t change much. She still looked just as gorgeous as before, maybe even more. 

“I could pay for it if you want,” he offered, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as she glanced back up, her eyebrows knitted together as if he had just said something offensive. 

“Course you could,” she remarked, a hint of anger lacing in her voice as she caressed the small cracks on her phone.   

“Y/N…” He trailed off, sighing at the fact that she was clearly bothered by his seemingly nice gesture. 

Shaking her head, she realised her attitude so she snapped herself back to reality, shoving her phone and sunglasses into her unzipped handbag. Finally focusing her attention back to the man in front of her, she admitted that damn, did he look good as if nothing’s changed. 

“Don’t worry about it. Do you want to move over to the side, y’know where no one’s at?” Y/N pointed to her left, a little walk down and there was a closed shop patio that held an empty spot away from the moving crowds since she didn’t know how long the conversation would last. Y/N always knew to be cautious with Harry out in public which he was grateful for. Nodding his head, they ambled towards the designated area. 

“So how have you been?” She painted a small smile on her face, facing her body towards him where she could also peer at the footpath where everyone else was. His figure was faced her instead, so no one would know who she was talking to. 

“I’ve been well,” he answered, nodding his head. “Started writing more songs for the upcoming album. What about you?” 

Y/N nodded along. “Yeah, haven’t been doing much but it’s been alright.” Something in the back of her mind refrained her to ask about Delilah. She didn’t know if she was ready to but deep down, she needed an answer. “Anything else going on?”   

Her hint was taken well as Harry cleared his throat. “She said yes.” No, she didn’t. He’s been lying straight to her face. Whenever he picked up his notebook, all his lyrics were scribbled out. And Delilah did the opposite of saying yes. He didn’t know how his voice managed to pull through his ongoing lies, but he was used to it by now.   

Y/N shifted her body to one side, her shoulder tensing as her eyes dropped to gaze at the concrete floor, her view filled with her pointed heels and Harry’s worn-out shoes that she’s also worn countless times before. She could feel her heart pulsing out her chest, the driven pounds laced to her brain. All her feelings ran back to her body and she almost forgot why she ever left him. 

Glancing back up, she bit the inside of her mouth before a small parting between her lips created a whiff of breath before she spoke up, her voice like a delicate whisper. “Congrats." 

Harry’s lip stretched into a modest smile before taking a deep breath. He knew he wanted to see her again. God, it was refreshing to see her again. To Harry, it didn’t seem like that night happened. She was still Y/N. His best friend, Y/N. “Do you need a ride?” He asked, attempting to make his time with her long and worthwhile. Even if it meant asking stupid questions, it still meant that he’d be with her for just an extra second.   

“My car’s right there.” She shook her head, pointing behind him were a few blocks down, her car was parked. Although they couldn’t see, it was self-explanatory. Harry followed her direction, turning his head, nodding as he realised he had probably strolled past the little black vehicle without notice. Y/N decided to skim through her handbag, attempting to find her car keys with a hum to occupy the silence. “Besides, don’t you have other plans?”  

Successfully finding the keys with a metallic jingle, she laced it around her index finger as Harry shook his head. 

“No, was jus’ taking m’ daily stroll.” Lies. Lies. Lies. He could feel his phone vibrate in his back pocket, probably from all the ongoing texts from Jeff because Harry was supposed to meet him at the studio. 

Y/N thought his answer was odd considering the fact that Harry never takes morning strolls after 9am and he wouldn’t ‘stroll’, he runs. Nevertheless, she ignored it. 

“Do you want to come over?” He thought he would’ve regretted asking her but he took his chances. He asked her because he missed her. He really did. She was finally in front of him and it wasn’t just his imagination. It was her. His y/n. Her whole physical being and all he wanted to do was devour himself into her presence before she disappears for probably even longer than the dreadful three months. 

A breathy laugh emitted from Y/N, she almost found the idea ridiculous. She’s been going alright without him but at the same time, although it was ridiculous, she could also see herself easily accepting it.   

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Harry,” she denies, trying to shut him down before she has the urge to drop down on her knees and hail before him. It was useless, spending endless days building up all her walls before torn down by the same man. 

“C’mon, Y/N. Doesn’t have to be too long. ‘avent seen you in ages,” he almost begs, he was almost scared that she would vanish in the warm, humid air. He hadn’t seen her enough. Only a few hours would satisfy him. He reached out to touch her hand, holding on to it.   

“There’s a reason why you haven’t,” she grits the words between her teeth, feeling herself being tugged towards him but she left his hand there.   

“Jus’ this one time.” He stared at her right in her blurry eyes, trying to speak through his gaze, adjuring her to say yes. For one last time. 

And Y/N received his feelings well. Almost perceiving that he was looking straight into her soul and Harry knew her weaknesses. He knew she would say yes. She convinced herself that it would only be for a few hours. Maybe a small chat here and there to sort whatever they had left - if they even had anything left. 

Then her walls were officially knocked down with a simple nod of her head. At least she can say she tried.   

- 

The sound of Harry’s keys jingling as he unlocked the apartment filled her ears as she stepped back into a haunted memory. They had obviously driven in separate cars since she didn’t want to leave her’s out in the street. The apartment didn’t seem too different, it still had the homey feel to it. But from the truth, Harry didn’t want to do anything that would remove her out of his life so he didn’t bother decorating his apartment like most people do. 

“Where is she?” Y/N didn’t dare to say her name as if it was an unbounded curse surrounded by rose thorn bushes. 

“Not here,” he replied simply as she welcomed herself onto the couch. She felt uncomfortable, knowing everything that happened in this place - she didn’t belong here anymore. Her eyes settled upon his guitar in the corner of the living room and she had a sudden rush of flashbacks. But it was all too quick when Harry interrupted her. 

“Apple juice?” He offered, knowing well that he had a carton in the fridge and that she’d prefer that beverage over coffee or tea. 

“If you have any.” She seems distracted, observing the room like she had just discovered a new area. Like this place wasn’t familiar anymore.   

“‘f course I do,” he mumbled under his breath, strolling towards the kitchen to grab her a glass. To her luck, she had heard him but didn’t react, only pursing her lips. Heck, she wouldn’t even have known how to react if he knew she heard. 

A few minutes pass before Harry comes back to the living room with a cup of apple juice gripped in his hand as he takes a seat next to Y/N who watched attentively. With a quiet thanks, she brings the glass to her lips, taking a small sip before setting it down on the coffee table in front of them. 

Placing her hands on her lap, she didn’t know what else to do. What if Delilah walks in? What if she sees her car outside? What if- 

Her thoughts cracked when a pair of lips crashed onto hers. And it was an instinct to kiss back. God, she was finally able to feel the warmth of his soft lips upon hers and the second she kissed back, she felt him smile. But as he did so, she was quick to pull away. Their breaths were uneven, she was still close to the point where he could feel her breath fan against his lips.   

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” She stared into his deep eyes, almost feeling herself sinking into him. But when he didn’t answer, she gave up. Bringing herself back to his lips, he happily obliged. They missed this feeling. Both of them missed the way their mouths moulded together perfectly.   

Before they knew it, they were breathless. So Y/N was the first to pull back again. God, she knew she was back to falling in love with him again. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he breathed out, swallowing his thoughts. 

“Delilah should be home soon right?” Reality drowned her. She realised that he still didn’t love her the way she could. It was all just ‘I miss you.’ Not ‘I love you.’ Why was she expecting him to say ‘I love you’ after that kiss? 

“Stay.”   

“Why am I here?” She ignored him again. She didn’t know if she was asking Harry or herself. What did she expect when coming over to Harry’s? Clearly whatever it was didn’t happen. Maybe she wanted him to really confess. After three months, she thought he would’ve. Or maybe she thought they’d run the same route to bed.  At least he could’ve said something worth coming to. 

“Cause I missed you,” he choked, knowing she was slipping from his hands unlike before. 

She shook her head, knowing that when she kissed him, she expected more. “You and I both know that. There’s more to this than ‘I miss you.’” He could tell her softness started fading away, she was testing the waters. 

Harry never really liked the way Y/N always searched for an answer to things, she was always persistent. Well, he liked it when he questioned others because he would always observe how she could crack them easily. Until she tried figuring out Harry. He finally knew what it was like to be the victim of her limelight. And from then on, any questions thrown at him would only result in her winning.   

After a year with broken heartstrings, it seemed like a lifetime's past. And Y/N couldn’t deal with the road that Harry tried paving for them when they were best friends because her love seemed to shatter everything they had. She never really dealt with Harry well. But when Y/N gathered her courage, it was his turn to break - and with that, it leads to the infamous night that haunted both parties. 

“Why am I here? I mean, I said my goodbyes already. I left you with something more than you deserve,” she continued, watching as he remained emotionless. “You miss me but god forbid, do you love me? Cause that’s why I'm here, right? You kissed me and maybe then I thought there was a reason to why I’m here with you right now. But I don’t know anymore. Tell me why I’m here Harry." In that instant, it became frail. Her voice becoming a deadly call to Harry’s heart. 

“No. Y/N, you know I love Delilah,” he finally spoke, managing to show no sort of emotion. He was good at that. 

“Fuck. Then why am I here?” She cried out, her frustration ripping at the seams. Her faith crushed into tiny pieces that she couldn’t pick up anymore.   

“I don’t fucking know.” Yes, he did. 

What broke her was when she finally took a good look at Harry, he almost seemed fine. Like he was not being affected at all by Y/N crashing right in front of him. He wasn’t bothered. 

“This one time, Harry. This one time wasted.” She pointed a finger, standing up as her knees felt weak. But she held up her pride, standing strong as she swaggered towards the closed door. Her instincts told her to take one more glimpse before she once again, disappears but she fought herself, cursing that she needed to not be the weak one here. 

Harry seemed to be frozen in time. He couldn’t process anything. All he did was watch Y/N but the thing was, he couldn’t seem to move. Inside, he was practically screaming at himself to stop her - stop her before she walks out forever. 

“Please,” he gasped out just as she opens the door to be greeted with a breath of fresh air. “You’re here because we both feel something,” he admitted to her and himself as he realised she had stopped in her tracks, waiting for Harry to answer her. “God, Y/N. I’ve heard that door slam shut way too many times. Someone’s always walking out of that door. They’re walking out of that door and out of my life. Please don’t, I can’t let you leave. Not again."  

Turning around, her heart already broken but it felt like it was clinging on as if there was one last hope. She wanted him to continue so she stood there with her arms crossed, protecting the leftover pieces of her heart as he recollected himself, putting the puzzle pieces into the right words. 

“Delilah said no. She knew there was something wrong with me since I ignored 'er for months with no end. I had to ignore her when all I could think of was you. Heck, ‘verything reminded me of you. You’re hauntin’ me and I know if I don’t admit what I’m feeling, you’ll follow me to my grave." 

Y/N stayed still, containing all her overwhelming emotions in one sport before they spread like wildfire. She felt conflicted. Part of her loved him but there was still that over-consuming thought that she was better than him. After all the shit she’s been through, was there really anything worth it? 

“So after all those times ‘ve asked you with the highest hope that you love me back, you lied?" 

Harry knew lying always created a mess. His mother would always tell him with a disapproving finger that ‘lies brew up the perfect storm.’ And as simple as it sounds, he realised that Y/N and him were a storm - the perfect one. 

The storm that would gather the darkest clouds to form the brightest strike of lighting. The storm that would hurt anything with its blinding flash. The storm that thunders against the ground, rain washing everything clean. The storm that Harry would use to hide from, his fingers covering his ears because his five-year-old self couldn’t handle it. The storm that Y/N would sometimes flinch at, even today. They were a storm. 

“’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry about everything. Delilah was there to fill some void that was left and to you and the world, we were a couple but it was nothin'. When you told me you loved me, I couldn’t bring m'self to say anythin' and I don’t know why. Bloody hell, I don’t know what 've been doing at all. But one thing’s for sure, I love you Y/N and I’m so sorry for everything. God, please let me make it up to you." 

It’s almost like everything’s been a joke to Y/N. Like this whole thing’s been wheeling her into a roundabout of lies and knives. She almost wanted to laugh, finding everything humorous. Like all the excruciating pain she suffered through was for nothing. And the sad thing was, Harry watched her. Watched her fall under him, for him to simply knock her down. 

“After all I’ve been through. Jesus Christ, it’s like whatever I’m getting at the end of this battle is not worth it because every night you broke my heart. Your ‘I love you too,’ doesn’t seem real, nor does it seem enough. I’m done, H.” 

And Harry had this feeling where he knew that it was the final straw. He was gonna lose her for good. He knew that their storm could’ve turned into a rainbow. But he knew he wouldn’t be to see it. At least one things for sure, Harry would be waiting on the other side. But Y/N loved him from the start, just not till the end. 

With a shut of the door, he was left alone. Their broken hearts became heavy. Their rose garden dreams were set on fire by fiends. And not all the prayers in the world could save them.

[transdonaldduck]

Uncle Scrooge says it’d be good for me to write this, a letter for you. He said it might help me start moving on, y’know? Cope with your disappearance. I don’t know, I don’t really see the point in writing a letter that will never be sent. I spent a lot of time sending you messages when you first left, and I never got a response or closure, so why does it matter now? But Uncle Scrooge insisted, so, here goes nothing.

Your kids have grown up a lot in the ten years you’ve been gone.

Dewey, you remember Dewford? He’s got just… the most energy. He’s definitely the rambunctious one of the group, always diving headfirst into danger, I wonder if he got that from you or me? He’s insisting that Uncle Scrooge let him lead a few adventures, but we can both agree that he’s not old enough for that. Or really he's not mature enough. Hueys gotten into Junior woodchucks more and more these past few years, he’s got his heart set on being a troupe leader when he’s older. He’s so organized that I think he’d be the best at wrangling a bunch of little kids, and he’s always had that sort of dad-instinct. He’s even taken care of me a few times, making breakfast, helping out around the houseboat… Louie’s grown up like a sprout- get it? Sprout? Because he wears all green? I know you didn’t laugh at that but maybe you smiled or rolled your eyes, which is enough. He’s got quite the silver tongue, he can talk his way out of practically any bad situation, and he’s mentioned learning a few new languages! I’m sure I could ask Panchito or Jose to come up and give him some basic lessons, and it’d be nice to see them again. It’s been awhile. I saw them after your disappearance. They stayed for a long time, and they grieved with me, but they had to go home eventurally. Life had to move on.

It’s cruel that it had to move on without you.

But i’ve been doing my best for you. I’ve been staying in the houseboat- you hung up all the best pictures of the kids, you know? keeping the cobwebs out and keeping it clean for if when you come back.

I hope you at least got to enjoy your cruise before whatever got you... got you.

I’m sorry we didn’t realize sooner. After that month was up I should have known something was wrong when you didn’t come home, but I kept coming up with excuses. I don’t know if I was afraid to see you or what, but I convinced myself everything was fine- and then we were so busy with Magicas return and Uncle Scrooge's stupid bet with Glomgold and the Moonlanders invasion that I. forgot about y

Sorry, I started crying and had to go take a break. You weren’t there for all of that, so it’s probably just a random string of words for you. Magica came back and threatened our lives with some new staff she hunted down, but it was cursed and it turned her hair blonde. She’s been in hiding ever since- hair dye doesn’t work on hexes it seems. Glomgold lost the bet, by the way. obviously. The moonlanders are a bunch of aliens I thought I befriended when I was stuck on the moon, but they turned out to be bad guys. This general Lunaris guy was so nice to me when we first met… but it was all a set up. He even  told me he threw my friend Penny in jail! She was so cool, you probably wouldn’t have liked her because you two are so similar. Me, Uncle Scrooge, the kids, and a lot of allies I dIdn’t even know we had stopped the invasion and sent those aliens packing back to the moon, never to return! We made sure of that by taking back the spear of selene plans. Now they’re stuck up there, which is fine by me… I trusted them and they tried to hurt me and my family. I know Penny tried to stop it, and maybe one day I’ll try and go up there and get her out of the jail if she’s still there, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

I just need to find you first.

Once the dust settled, and once Duckburg started to rebuild, it really hit us that you were gone. Like, seriously missing gone. We called the cruise company but they didn’t keep track of whether or not you even got on the boat, which is stupid! They didn’t even have security cameras so we could see if you’d fallen overboard. It’s like you stepped outside of the manor and vanished into thin air. Once the media caught on it was a circus, they’ve got true crime documentaries on us both now… though half of mine are moot since I came back and obviously wasn't murdered. I can’t say the same for you. We’ve gone through Uncle Scrooge's list of enemies a thousand times, none of them know where you are, none of them took you, none of them hurt you. That's what they say, and their stories haven't changed.

We searched all along the ocean where the cruise sailed through, top and bottom. Fethry even had his mutant krill kid help on the search, but you weren’t there. Or we missed you. Gladstone looked for you too, and even he had no luck. You’re just gone. Or maybe the ocean took your body out to sea, too far for us to ever find you. Or maybe you fell overboard and bumped your head and got amnesia and now you’re living off the grid in some rural iceland village. I mean, it’s you, anything can happen. I hope you’re happy churning butter and listening to icelandic folk songs.

This is nearly two pages now, my patience is starting to run out. I can only sit still for so long, dewey got that from me. I know you’d read a thousand pages if I asked you too, and I know you’d enjoy it, because you missed me as much as I miss you, but you’ll never read this. So I’ll stop at two.

I keep talking about you in past tense. I’m sorry.

I miss you Donald, and I love you. We all do. -Della

[welcome-to-chao-hub]

@shadowdwxllers

Geoff didn't know what to say, his mouth turning dry as he watched his wife get up and leave the room after saying her piece. What did she want him to say? Sure she did some terrible things but from his recollection, she was never arrested, she was never punished for her actions and most people knew the truth about the situation surrounding that assassination attempt on Sally and yet was still willing to trust her.

He sighed, exhausted as he could feel the last few days catching up to him. He caught sight of a blue rabbit enter the room and racked his brain to see where he saw her before. "Can I help you?" he asked, sounding more annoyed than tired.

"I just...wanted to ask you a few things and to...apologize," the rabbit timidly replied, taking a seat that Hershey was sitting in not too long ago.

"For what?"

"For both kinda endangering Hershey and for almost blowing up your face last time we met?"

Ooooh the rabbit from the desert. That's where. But his mind could've sworn that he saw her before that, but waved it off. "Honestly I was just thinking about how I needed to say 'nice aim' about that particular moment," he commented, watching the rabbit turned red. "Though why are you asking me instead of going to Elias, miss...?"

"Bonnet. As for why I haven't asked him," she shrugged a bit at that. "Everyone that saw him land in the clearing by our house were already asking him questions and some questions...I don't know how to approach him on that and some are only pertaining to you or at least your expertise."

"Such as...?"

"Magic."

Of course. "If you're asking for a lesson, you're going to have to get in line because I'm assuming I'm going to be training this rebellion on something if I agree to help," he sighed, shaking his head. "And that's....a very hard if."

Bonnet shook her head at that. "Well...yes and no. You see, I may have...overheard some things about the sword Elias wields, from what happened years ago, from what Elias and Silver were trying to answer to the people as well as how they brought you back here, and my question is...is the King in danger of using it?"

He blinked in surprise by that; he wasn't expecting the rabbit to come in and strike with that much precision. Definitely had a lot better aim than he realized. "That is....something that actually concerns me too. In...my situation, I was possessed by Naugus, who would either take over my body entirely, a mind transfer if you will, or used a spell from afar, which was how he took over me until recently. It depends on how he's feeling. But in order for him to perform such a spell, he needed someone who was willing to give him that control and...being his apprentice, I gave him that control, as...unwilling as that was; that was made clear when he first did that to me years ago. If what controlled Elias was under the same rules, that Elias needed to give consent for this....Sword of Light to work, I'm hoping that they're kinder or at least do not do any lasting damage to him.”

The rabbit nodded as she listened. "I guess that was my main concern after hearing some of those questions, because with how our world is changing, magic is going to be a less...feasible thing once Naugus is off the throne. You'd probably be the only one who could use that type of magic; well, kinda if rumors are to be believed about him with him bringing back the dead."

"Which is true, unfortunately...as well as Eggman and the Iron Queen teaming up with him," Geoff huffed. "I know she goes by a different name but honestly and pardon my language, but she can fuck off."

"Then in that case, I do want those lessons," Bonnet said, the skunk glaring at her in return. "Look, just...hear me out. I'm on the fence of going back onto the field for multiple reasons, but if push came to shove and I find myself fighting again, I don't want to run into an area where this Iron Queen lady can disable my Wispon with ease. Like...I do know that I can use certain weapons, ones that won't be affected by her brand of magic, but my Wispon is my main weapon."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Surely you could just use the Wisps, right? Isn't that how they work?"

"Yyyyes and no," she explained, adjusting a bracelet that was around her right wrist. "Wisps do power the Wispons, but the Wispon does have primary functions that doesn't need them. Those are the functions that she could easily disable. Now if I don't have a Wisp nearby and needed to use a function that requires one...well...it would kinda....suck my energy, my life force if you will. And not a feature that many people know, my husband included. Not sure if I should tell him since I don't know if I'll be able to use it again anytime soon."

Geoff stared at her as he considered that. That was some sensitive information. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked. "I could be planning to betray you and everyone else again."

"Why are you so determined to push everyone away?" she countered back. "I'm...not going to lie, I overheard some of your conversation with her just now (because thank you rabbit ears), and you seemed really determined to not only keep out of this but to push everyone that somehow gives a damn away. Your....Hershey included!" Looks like she didn't even know the relationship between him and Hershey was; then again, neither did he. Her gaze softened as she pull one of her legs to her chest. "I...do get wanting to keep everyone at a distance, making sure they don't get hurt....I'm wondering if that's why you're doing that."

He slumped against the pillow that kept him propped up, staring at the ceiling. "That and...I think I just accepted my fate and that all there is now is a dark tunnel. Whether Elias wins or not, despite whatever potential he or Hershey sees in me, they don't need to be dragged down with me when I already dragged them down far enough."

"So why not fight? It...sounded like you were fighting Naugus before?” she pointed out. “I mean...I know you don’t want to, but....what do you want to do?”

“That sounds like something I should be asking you. It sounds like you want to fight yourself despite ‘being on the fence’.”

“Maybe I’m tired of being on the sidelines but I don’t know what my next step is. What about you?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “....maybe I’m tired of thinking I’m doing ‘good’ when I’m actually causing more harm.”

“That’s....understandable. But we can’t see the future, but we both know that Naugus, the way he’s running things right now and how things are going....if we just let him do this without a fight, that’s going to cause more harm than anything...” she pointed out, glancing out the window as she got up. “I need to get going before the storm hits us.”

Geoff held out his hand to stop her from leaving, frowning as he did. “Was...anything we just spoke of answered your questions?”

She shrugged a little. “Probably not, but...I guess one of the reasons why I came was to see why Elias would save you.”

“Couldn’t ask him yourself?”

“I....may have made similar decisions before in regards to saving someone I thought I could trust....and one way of finding out was talking to you. I’ll probably ask him later though.”

“Do you regret them?”

“...Not sure, honestly for a lot of reasons...” she admitted. “I’ll probably ask more questions tomorrow if that’s ok.”

He regarded her request before nodding. “...If you see Hershey, tell her that I’m...slightly more inclined to help. I doubt I can train an army to use magic, but I’ll see what I can do. At least teach you something if you continue to be this insistent.”

Bonnet looked terrified by the mention of talking to Hershey. “I....am just gonna keep my distance for now. Last time I interacted with her, she was pretty pissed....and that was back out in the desert when....y’know, you showed up.”

Oh right, she did mention wanting to apologize for that earlier and...wait... he remembered more of that fight now and wasn’t Bonnet also....? He stared at her in disbelief before running a hand down his face. “What were you thinking?! You were pregnant!”

“I am well aware of how stupid I was being!” she said, quickly leaving the room. “I’ll try and pass on your message if she doesn’t kill me first! And...thank you.”

Geoff sighed as he slumped back against the pillows. How did he get roped up into this mess? Either way, here he was.

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m going (8)

Things you can’t control

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, a steamy-ish scene! :) This is not appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: 3,405 (let me know if the ‘read more’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This picks up right where we left off, with Drake’s POV.

*****

Drake had played it cool with Bastien, and he wasn’t even sure he’d recognized Amara from afar. Even though it was literally his job to recognize faces and to observe every single detail…

Enough. He couldn’t control everything. Plus, Bastien trusted him. He wouldn’t naturally assume there was anything between them, even if he did report seeing them to Liam. Drake’s dad had been Bastien’s mentor, so that must count for something, right? Drake knew he was foolish to think this way. When you weighed in your options, it all came down to it: Liam weighed more.

He’d been silent for a good ten minutes in the car ride home, and Amara was starting to notice he was worried.

‘Are you ok?’

He shakes it off, looks at her, and here comes the smile, as if he couldn’t contain it. To hell with the rest of the world. ‘Yeah. Don’t worry.’

She snuggles up in the car seat. ‘Good. I thought you regretted taking me there for a second.’

‘Never. I had a really good time, Suarez.’

Her face lit up. ‘Me too! It was awesome. Can we go back another time?’

‘Sure. I’d love that. But for now, let’s get you home, and let’s keep you hydrated, Agent Suarez.’

‘Detective.’

‘Sorry. Detective Suarez, you are hammered. I need to keep you watered.’

She flashes a gorgeous smile, and he melts. He just wants to take her far away, forget about everything else. And right now, he can’t think of a good reason not to.

His phone buzzes. Incoming call from Liam. Ugh. Should he pick up, or…? No. He’ll listen to the voicemail later, if he left one. But suddenly, the thought of Bastien popped back in his mind. Could he have reported them already?

‘You’re not picking up?’

‘Nah, it’s Liam. I don’t want to talk to him right now.’

Amara looks out the window, wistfully. ‘I don’t want to be an obstacle to your friendship.’

He hated that he’d make her think anything was her fault. No, she’d done nothing wrong. His hand looked for hers, and when he found it, he squeezed it tight. ‘Stop. You’re not. There are just things...things you can’t control.’

She scoffs. ‘Yeah.’

They ride in silence, until Amara, still looking out the window, softly says: ‘I have a tendency to destroy, Drake. I ruin things. I hope I don’t ruin anything with you.’

His heart broke a little. How many times had he thought the same about himself? Hell, he’d had that exact thought just earlier this evening. But somehow, when she said it, this beautiful, incredible, funny, smart woman, it hurt him so much. Why did she trust herself so little?

‘Suarez, you could never. I’m not going anywhere, ok?’

*****

They’d decided to head to Drake’s room, which did have a lock. Maxwell’s interruption had taught them a lesson about privacy, even if Drake had been clear about not wanting to take advantage of her while she was inebriated. At the very least they’d have a quiet, relaxing evening without the risk of someone barging in.

Liam had left a voicemail, and just wanted to see if Drake was up for a drink. Nothing alarming. Drake could breathe again.

Against her better judgment, Amara poured herself a glass of wine after pouring Drake one. After all, she didn’t have any commitments in the morning, and it wasn’t that late, or so she argued. Drake looked at her with a smile on his lips, and when she noticed, she rolled her eyes and said ‘Oh come on, just one!’

She looked around his room, and he suddenly felt very naked. He hadn’t had anyone in there in a long time, and he hadn’t tidied up at all. She glanced at the pile of photos and various letters on the desk. A photo of his mom and dad as newlyweds was on top of the bunch, and she studied it intently. It made him smile, and he was surprised to realize that he instinctively opened up, before she even asked anything.

‘That’s my parents. Before they had me. I’ve always loved this photo.’

She takes it in her hand and looks closer. ‘You look like both of them. They looked very happy.’ She pauses. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--’

‘No, not at all. I miss my dad a lot, and I enjoy thinking that he was happy.’

‘I get that. Where does your mom live?’

‘She lives in Texas, with her new husband, Barry. They live on the family ranch.’

‘Oh nice! Do you guys get along?’

Drake shrugs. Funny how he had no problem telling her everything. If she asked him for his ATM pin, he’d probably give it to her. ‘Meh. It changed things when my mom remarried. Barry’s a good guy and all, it’s just… y’know.’

‘He’s not your dad.’

‘Yeah. Although I’m aware it makes me sound like a brat. You know, the whole ‘You’re not my real dad!’ tantrum.’

She laughs, and replies, taking her eyes off the photo and looking directly at Drake. ‘I can understand that. I see things differently, but I get where you’re coming from.’

He walks closer, and sits right next to her at the desk. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well,’ she says, sitting on the arm of the chair, comfortably close to him, ‘when my dad remarried, I was grateful he had someone to share his life with. To get through...things. It doesn’t mean he loved my mom any less, on the contrary. But he just found a partner, for the next stage of his life. Plus, Nancy is also a widow, and they understand each other’s pain. So, the way I see it, he’s in good hands. Someone other than us--than me--cares for him.’

Drake nods. ‘I didn’t know your mom passed. I’m sorry.’

She gives him a sad smile. ‘When I was ten. Dad married Nancy ten years later. So, there’s also the fact that he had been alone for a while, he was an empty nester...It felt good to know he had companionship.’

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She was beautiful to begin with, but the way she spoke about her family, with so much understanding, so much compassion. And without making him feel like a brat for not fully accepting his stepdad, even though he should probably feel bad about that. Barry was a good guy, after all. ‘That’s actually really good to hear. I needed to hear it.’

She smiles, and puts an arm around him. ‘So, you gonna call Barry tomorrow? Ask him to bond over a soccer game or something?’

He chuckles. Maybe he would, next time he’s in Texas. ‘Heh. Sounds like a plan.’

Amara continues to look at the photos. Drake doesn’t even think of stopping her, when she stumbles upon a picture of Savannah, probably taken a couple of months before she left. He feels a pinch in his heart. ‘Um, that’s my sister. Savannah.’

Amara smiles, and just says ‘She’s very pretty. Kind eyes.’

He notices she doesn’t pry any further, and does not try to know where she is, or anything else. For some reason, he finds it endearing. ‘Yeah. She’s a kind woman. We were extremely close growing up, but I guess I must have become overprotective somewhere along the road.’

‘Well, you guys lost your dad when you were young, right? That’s a reason to be protective, when you lose a family member, you want to make sure it doesn’t happen again.’ Her voice becomes choked up, but she shakes it off.

‘Yeah, I was 18 and Savannah was 16 when our dad passed. But it wasn’t until about 8 years later, so about two years ago, that Savannah left court abruptly. She left a note, and I haven’t been able to contact her since.’

He couldn’t believe he had told her that. He never talked about Savannah. On some level, it was because he felt responsible for her leaving. After all, she allegedly contacted their mom, but never him. She probably needed to be far away from him, and far away from the pressure of court. So, he blamed and resented both: himself, and court.

Amara’s eyes widen in shock. ‘What do you mean, you haven’t been able to contact her? There has been no trace of her at all?’

‘Well, my mom claims she sends an email once in a while, but nothing else. I have never seen the emails, but my mom gave me the address. I sent many messages, but no response.’

‘Drake, I’m sorry, this is a shitty situation. But there are ways to find people. Did you ever think of hiring a detective, or--’

‘Bastien and some other members of the Royal Guards tried to help me at first, but when there were no leads, they quickly gave up.’

‘Well, lucky for you, I’m a detective, and I have my ways. If you give me the email address, and all the info you can think of, I’ll look into it. I can’t promise you anything, but I can try.’

He hadn’t had hope in almost two years. Even when Bastien had tried to investigate, he simply didn’t trust they could do it, or even that they really wanted to find her. But now, looking at this hot detective he had known for less than two weeks, he was hopeful, and legitimately grateful. She cared enough to offer. He gently stroked her hair, and captured her lips in a deep kiss. ‘Thank you, Amara.’

*****

Amara awoke at the sound of her phone going crazy. She’d fallen asleep in Drake’s arms, once again. As she was drifting off to sleep a few hours earlier, she caught herself wondering if she would be able to sleep alone here, without Drake’s reassuring embrace. Two nights in a row they had spent the night together, and she had been completely nightmare-free. That had to mean something.

They had talked about Savannah’s case, and Amara had taken lots of notes on everything Drake could remember. She had gotten extremely excited at the thought of investigating again. In two whole years, she’d never looked back at her old career, but now, the old bug was coming back to her.

Dammit, what did her phone want with her now? Four texts from Maxwell.

Number one. Hey Amara, you can still sleep in, but you have an event scheduled for 10am! Woo!

Number two. You need to be dressed casually but cute, because you’ll see Liam! Woo!

Number three. I know I said you can sleep in but it’s already 7.30 and I haven’t heard from you so maybe you could text back at your earliest convenience?

Number four. Is everything ok??????????

Alright. She needed to text back. She just types Relax Max, I’m up, getting in shower now. Meet you in your room in half an hour to discuss outfits?

He replies right away with YAY see you then, gurl.

She rolls her eyes and smiles. Oh Maxwell. What an intense little guy.

She kisses Drake’s neck, not wanting to wake him up, but kinda hoping he would. ‘I have to go,’ she whispers.

He stretches, and quickly finds her lips. ‘Mmmm can’t you stay a little…?’ He pulls her close, kissing her deeper, and running his hands all over her back.

Fuck, she thinks. Why can’t Maxwell let her be? Plus, does she give two shits about seeing Liam? When she weighs her options, the bulge in Drake’s boxers wins, hands down, not even a question. 

He kisses her neck lazily, his lips trailing towards her chest. She rolls her head back and strokes his hair, enjoying the moment.

‘Mmmm I wish… Maxwell will barge in soon if I don’t meet him in his room, though…’

Drake grunts. ‘Ugh, how long do we have?’

‘I’m meeting him in half an hour in his room.’

Drake rolls his eyes, and plants a kiss on her lips. ‘When this happens, it’s not going to be a quick thing while Maxwell waits outside. I want us to take our time. So...raincheck?’

Amara thinks, she’s gonna have a collection of rainchecks, soon. And somehow, they were all due to Maxwell, that little minx.

‘Deal,’ she says while shaking Drake’s hand. ‘But I don’t know how much longer I can wait.’

‘Heh, same. But hey, anticipation is key, wasn’t it Charles Dickens who said that?’

‘Yeah, well Charles Dickens didn’t have an annoying friend like Maxwell, I bet.’

‘Alright Suarez, go go go. I’ll text you later.’

She sneaks back into her room, careful not to be seen.

*****

It’s Amara’s turn to see Liam, one on one. She and Maxwell--or rather, Maxwell alone--decided on a floral dress for the date. More than ever, she felt like a contestant on The Bachelor. Except that she didn’t want the rose. The rose could eat a bag of dicks.

Speaking of roses, the date was set up in the gardens. Again, she thought. Does he have a topiary fetish?

‘Hello, Lady Amara,’ Liam said enthusiastically, a dashing smile on his lips.

‘Hello, Prince Liam. How are you doing?’

‘I’m great, thank you! Would you care for a cup of coffee?’ He gestures to a small coffee cart, manned by a server dressed up in a tuxedo. At 10am. Amara nods, and gives the guy her order, feeling bad every step of the way for causing a man to dress up to watch someone else’s date and pour the coffee.

‘Shall we walk through the gardens?’ Liam asks, just as enthusiastically.

‘Sure, that sounds lovely.’

She’d have to be careful not to be rude. His relentlessness annoyed her profoundly, but then again, she was a guest here and definitely did not want to end up being kicked out, not with what had been happening between Drake and her.

Liam talked to her about the history of the garden, and she listened intently, relieved that the conversation, so far, steered clear of anything personal.

‘So, Lady Amara, how have you been getting along with the other ladies?’

‘Oh, really great. Lady Hana is amazing, we took to each other right away.’

‘I’m so glad to hear this!’

‘Yeah, and I think Olivia and I are starting to get along really well, too.’

Liam’s eyes widen in surprise. ‘Oh, really? That’s so good to hear, truly. I was concerned, because as you may have noticed, Lady Olivia can be a tad...abrasive.’

Amara chuckles. On the one hand, he wasn’t wrong. But something about the fact that Liam was bitching to her about Olivia irked her somehow. She wanted to tell him that he’d be lucky to have Olivia, but instead she said ‘Well, I find her to be extremely interesting and, pardon my language, but badass.’

Liam laughs lightheartedly. ‘Yes, that’s one word for her. In any case, I’m happy you’re making friends. It can be difficult to arrive in medias res, you know?’

Who says ‘in medias res’ out loud? ‘Yes, I know what you mean. But you can rest assured, I’m fine.’

‘I also wanted to talk to you about the newest suitor. Lady Madeleine. You probably know her history with my family, by now.’

‘Um yes. Olivia filled me in.’

‘Good, good. Well, you should know that, regardless of her link with my stepmother, it doesn’t change the fact that I am still very much interested in you.’

Amara stops dead in her tracks. Oh great. Now she’d have to deal with that, live. ‘That’s a very nice thing to say, Your Royal Highness, but--’

‘Liam.’ He stops walking and grabs her hand. Amara wonders if saying his own name is another one of his kinks. ‘And Amara, please know that I am at your complete and utter disposal. Should you want to escape from the court. Take a break, just the two of us.’

Her stomach churns. This feels wrong. She wants to yank her hand free, but she feels obligated towards him. If she rejects him point blank, she’s out. She’d need to be more subtle about it. Let him think she’s trying, and ultimately, that she’s just not falling for him, if he’s still into her.

She gently takes her hand back. ‘Thank you. I appreciate it. But, you see, I feel uncomfortable about being treated any differently. I actually like the other ladies, and I’m not asking for a special treatment because I’m not from this world.’

Liam seems to buy it, for now. ‘I commend you. You’re a good person.’ Gee, thanks, morality police. ‘Alrighty then, let’s play by the rules. We have a little more time before the end of the date. Would you like a tour of the maze?’

Hoping he doesn’t have a maze fetish, she nods.

*****

Drake sat anxiously at the coffee shop table, painfully aware that, at this very moment, Amara was alone with Liam. He’d bumped into Maxwell earlier who excitedly told him about the date, and he had been bummed out ever since. He couldn’t tell if he was worried Amara might change her mind about the two of them, or if he was just unsettled and uncomfortable with the thought of Liam, a man no one had ever said no to, being alone with the woman he...cared about.

‘Hey Walker, can I sit?’

Before he could answer yes or no, Olivia sits down next to him.

‘Hey Liv. How’s life?’

She takes a sip of her coffee. ‘Fine. What are you sulking about?’

‘Nothing. Just...thinking.’

She stares into his eyes. He feels like a White Walker is poking his nail into his skull to turn him into a wight. ‘Thinking about how Amara is alone with Liam?’

Oh. Straightforward. Olivia Fucking Nevrakis at work. ‘What do you want, Liv?’

‘Look, I’ll be straight with you.’

‘Wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Nevrakis.’

‘I assume Liam asked you to join the group on the trip to Lythikos tomorrow, right?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘Look.’ She inches closer. ‘I’m gonna be hosting the festivities for the next two days. I can arrange for alone time between you and Amara. Assign the two of you to neighboring rooms. Keep Liam busy. The works.’

‘And why would you do that?’

She stirs her coffee, even if there’s no cream or sugar in there. ‘No reason.’

‘You said you’d be straight with me. Keep your promise.’

‘Fine. I know Liam is into her. If he had his way, he’d probably choose her. Neither of us is willing to risk it, are we?’

Drake looks down at his coffee mug. She’s right. And Amara isn’t willing either. ‘Go on.’

‘It’s in my best interest to have Liam’s full attention, especially in Lythikos. It’s my turf, I should be the center of attention, but with Suarez around with her big eyes and big boobs, I can guarantee you it’s not gonna happen.’

Drake chuckles. ‘Ok, but it would be more on brand for you to, I don’t know, sabotage her. Not that I want to give you any ideas.’

Olivia snorts. ‘What kind of person do you think I am, Walker? Believe it or not, I actually enjoy the bitch’s company. She’s a good drinking buddy. She’s dark, and not weak like the others. I don’t want her gone, I just want her to get what she wants, so I can get what I want. Win-win.’

Sound reasoning. Drake nods, taking it all in.

Olivia takes a breath, and adds: ‘Not to mention...I owe you one.’

Drake raises an eyebrow. ‘You do?’

‘Kinda. I figured I could have been...nicer to your sister. Maybe she wouldn’t have left if everyone had been less of a dick to her for not being noble.’

He’s surprised. Olivia had never mentioned Savannah again, after she left, much less admitted any kind of fault in her departure. Not that Drake blamed anyone in particular but himself, and the pressure of court, which he could barely handle, let alone his little sister.

Olivia continues: ‘Also, I thought you’d need some help being discreet. My bodyguard was out last night,’ she gestures at the muscular guy who is having coffee two tables over, ‘and he told me he saw the two of you singing Disney songs together at a cop bar.’ She snorts with disgust.

‘It was a Queen song!’ Drake protests.

‘Yeah yeah. In any case, you’re gonna need some lessons in sneakiness. Do we have a deal?’

Drake shakes her hand vigorously. ‘You got it, Liv.’

*****

Taglist:

@andy-loves-corgis , @drakewalkerwhipped , @drakxwalker , @drakewalkerrosenberg , @drakeswalkers , @drakelover78 , @silviasutton1989 , @jovialyouthmusic , @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria , @mariahschoices , @drakesensworld , @thequeenofcronuts , @notoriouscs , @drakewalkerisreal , @nikkis1983 @simsvetements

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[welcometothepenumbra]

BONUS: THE RITA MINUTE 3 – HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MISTA STEEL!

VOICE (FROM TV): …you see many techniques like this, here at the Galactic Paper Spaceship Grand Prix. It’s the fluting at the tail that gives the extra level of control—

RITA: Yeah, yeah, just show me the ship again!

VOICE (FROM TV): Its engineering team calls it the Manta Stinger Mark II. Now, let’s look at this beauty up close…

SOUND: PAPER CRUMPLING & RIPPING. RITA GRUNTING & MUMBLING UNINTELLIGIBLY.

VOICE (FROM TV): Made of only a single sheet of uncut A4 paper, the Manta Stinger has shattered records. Its design, which mathematicians have called “technically impossible,” took its team fifty years and nearly two hundred million creds in funding to achieve—

RITA: Done! Now let’s see this baby fly!

SOUND: FLAP.

Whoooaaaaaaa.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

OH! A call!

Hi, hello, this is Rita’s house, Rita speaking.

Oh, Frannie, I’m so glad you called! I’m up to some very important business. I decided I was gonna get into makin’ paper spaceships, well actually first I was gonna get into antigravity yo-yos, but then I was flippin’ the channel over to the Mars yo-yo convention, and I got stopped on this Galactic Paper Spaceship whatever and I think I really—

Huh? What do you mean, how was the party? What par— (GASPS) Mista Steel’s birthday party!

No, of course I didn’t forget! And besides, I still got time, don’t I? Mista Steel’s birthday party ain’t until 7 PM on December 24th, and I specifically remember this Grand Spree or whatever it’s called started at 6 PM on the 23rd—

SOUND: EXPLOSION (FROM TV).

AH! Stupid stream! Gonna give me a heart attack…

VOICE (FROM TV): And as per GPSGP tradition, that bomb marks the twenty-four-point-fifth hour of our competition. It is now 6:30 PM on December the 24th.

RITA: Oh, there it is! The heart attack! Alright, bye-bye, Frannie, I gotta call you back, I got a party at my apartment in… thirty minutes!

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

Okay, okay. Okay. It’s okay, Rita. You were prepared for this. You made a party checklist, so you wouldn’t forget to do anything. And, well, you forgot about the checklist, so maybe next time, that goes on the checklist too. But for now you just… gotta… find it.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

It’s just gotta be on one’a these paper spaceships, right? Can’t be more than a few… hundred. A few hundred. It’s no biggie. Really.

It was a surprise party anyway, right? It ain’t like Mista Steel is expectin’ nothin’. As far as he knows you two are just gonna go to a movie, and you’re gonna buy the first popcorn and he’s gonna buy all the popcorn after that, so I mean anything’s gonna be a nice surprise compared to AH HA HA! Here it is!

Come to Rita, you sneaky little shippy! Alright, let’s see, here…

Recipe for one Mista Steel’s best surprise birthday party ever, by Rita. Item one: Rita! Item two: snacks. Item three: convince Mista Steel you forgot when his birthday was, so that he doesn’t think you’re planning a party. (GIGGLES) Item four: tell Mista Steel you wanna go see a movie on his birthday, but your car is broken and Frannie is dead so he needs to pick you up. Item five: more snacks, items six through nine, even more snacks…

Yep, everything good so far. Looks like I checked off everything on this list OH NO!

I forgot the last thing! Item ten: invite Mista Steel’s friends.

Well, Rita, this is quite a pickle you got yourself into. Planning a party for your best boss’s loved ones in half an hour? Some would say it can’t be done. Maybe there’s a lesson to be learned here, somewhere under all these paper spaceships. But that would take time, so instead, you’re gonna pick up that comms, and you’re gonna make some calls, and you’re gonna—

SOUND: CLUNK.

—oh, no, I dropped the comms.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS.

Ah, it’s ringing! Hello? Hello, comms? Hello, comms! I miss you!

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

There! Gotcha!

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS STOP.

Hello, this is Rita’s house, starring Rita, how can I help you?

MICK MERCURY (FROM COMMS): Hey-hey, just the Rita I wanted to talk to!

RITA: I know that voice… hey, wait a minute, aren’t you the one who keeps callin’ and tryin’ to sell me phone books from thirty years ago?

MICK (FROM COMMS): No! I mean, yes. But that’s not why I’m calling! It’s me, Rita, Mick Mercury! Juno’s best friend?

RITA: Well, I don’t know about that.

MICK (FROM COMMS): Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I got your message yesterday and I’m on my way.

RITA: Message… oh, right! I did call you!

MICK (FROM COMMS): You did, that’s right! And then you stopped mid-sentence and said something about paper spaceships and I thought, hey, how come nobody’s built a car out of paper yet? It’d be pretty cheap, right? Sell like gangbusters! So I spent a few dozen hours drawin’ up some plans, a business model or two, and—

RITA: Mista Mercury, Mista Mercury! This is all really interestin’ and of course I am going to want to know all about how I can get in on the ground floor of this business venture, but first, we got somethin’ more important to deal with: Mista Steel’s party, in thirty minutes!

MICK (FROM COMMS): Jay’s party is in thirty minutes?!

RITA: Oh no, you forgot too?

MICK (FROM COMMS): Yeah, completely! I thought it started thirty minutes ago, and I was just calling to say sorry I was so late!

RITA: You… really? You’re here??

MICK (FROM COMMS): Almost! Just give me five minutes to find a place to park my bike and I’ll be right in.

RITA: Yes, yes! Thank you so much, Mista Mercury. This is gonna be the best Mista Steel’s birthday ever!

MICK (FROM COMMS): But, hold on a sec, do you think there’s something wrong with the phone books idea? Because like I figured people sell antique furniture, right, so why not antique phone books? It’s just that I did a lot of dumpster diving and just got a whole bunch of tetanus just for—

RITA: Alright, I’ll see you soon, byeeee!

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

Whew. Well, that’s one down. Practically took care of itself.

Now let’s see, who else… OH! I know! I’ll call Mista Steel’s other friend!

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKS.

Just gotta run this decryption software, embed a virus or two, and… I’m in!

SOUND: COMMS BEEP. THEN STATIC.

SASHA WIRE (FROM COMMS): Hello? Who is this?

RITA: This is Rita! Hi!

VOICE 1 (FROM COMMS): Agent W, we need your full attention here?

WIRE (FROM COMMS): Yes, fine, just give me a moment. Alright, Rita, out with it. What’s this all about? Who put you up to this? Was it the Neptunians? Yoblonsky’s men, did he get you this signal?

RITA: What? Oh, no, Sasha, I just got this signal all by my little old self. It’s all in a day’s work for the one and only Rita—

WIRE (FROM COMMS): Stop toying with me. How do you know my name?

RITA: Oh, the boss told me years ago. He talks about you a lot, y’know. “Grr, that Sasha Wire! She sure is great! Agent of Dark Matters! I oughta teach her a lesson, give her what I owe her!” That kinda thing, I think. Usually I ain’t listenin’.

WIRE (FROM COMMS): Teach her a lesson? Give her what I owe her… wha– what does that even mean? That can’t be– this is about the December 25th deal, isn’t it? That’s classified information! How do you know—

RITA: Actually the whole deal is goin’ on on the 24th. That’s kinda why I was callin’ you, ‘cause I didn’t want you to miss it!

WIRE (FROM COMMS): The 24th… we were off by a day.

Agent. Agent! Put that down and come here!

VOICE 1 (FROM COMMS): But Agent W, this is highly explosive—

WIRE (FROM COMMS): And this situation is more explosive, trust me. Put it down. I think I’ve got a lead on the December 25th deal.

RITA: Ooh, wow, you must be important, huh? It takes like a whole three people just for you to write down an appointment.

WIRE (FROM COMMS): Alright, Rita, or whatever your name is. Enough games. I’m only going to ask this once, and you had better not lie to me. We have ways of finding that out. We have ways of making you regret it.

RITA: Why would I lie? I just want you to come to the party!

WIRE (FROM COMMS): The party… write that down, Agent. Might be code.

(TAKES A BREATH) Alright, Rita. So. Who do you work for?

RITA: Mista Steel.

WIRE (FROM COMMS): Mista…

We’ve talked before, haven’t we.

RITA: Yeah! Hi again, Agent Wire! Mista Steel’s birthday party is in twenty minutes and I know you’re really busy but it’d be nice if you’d just—

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

Uh, hello? Agent Wire? Miss Sasha? Hello? Huh. Guess she… doesn’t wanna come.

Well, that’s alright! I guess I’ll just call one’a Mista Steel’s other friends, like… l-like…!

Huh.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

Ooh, ooh, that must be one now!

Hello, this is Chez Rita brought to you by Rita, how can I help you?

MICK (FROM COMMS): Yeah, hey, Rita? It’s Mick again.

RITA: Mista Mercury! I was startin’ to get worried. I thought you said you were only five minutes away.

MICK (FROM COMMS): Yeah, I’m still just looking for ya. Hey, speaking of which, how many wheels does your place have?

RITA: None at all! Are you offering?

MICK (FROM COMMS): Why, would you buy them? ‘Cause I could get you some wheels easy, just give me a—

Hey, wait, you said your place has got no wheels? That’s, like, exaggerating? Like you only have a few, right?

RITA: No. None of the apartments in Hyperion City got wheels that I know of, Mista Mercury.

MICK (FROM COMMS): Wait, apartment? Who said anything about an apartment?

RITA: Don’t be mad, it’s just where I live, I ain’t ever known no other way!

MICK (FROM COMMS): I ain’t mad– I mean, I’m not mad! I just thought… so when you said you lived on Lakeview, you meant, like, a street named that?

RITA: Uh… yeah. Lakeview Street. Where– where are you?

MICK (FROM COMMS): Oh, that explains it! Whew. For a minute there I thought you meant, like, your place had a view of a lake, you know? So I went and looked for the only lake I could find, and basically all there is around it is a big junkyard, so. I guess that’s not it, is what you’re saying.

RITA: But… there ain’t any lakes in Hyperion City.

MICK (FROM COMMS): Yeah, yeah, I know, somehow I got it in my head that you lived in Valles Marineris. Weird, right? (LAUGHS)

Yeah, anyway, do you think this party’s still gonna be going on in, like, fourteen hours? Because, that’s about how long it’s gonna take me to get there. The old hovercycle’s not as zippy as he used to be.

VOICE 2 (FROM COMMS): Hey, you! This is private property!

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT (FROM COMMS).

Get outta my junkyard.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOTS (FROM COMMS).

MICK (FROM COMMS): Sweet shining nebula! Gotta go, Rita, love ya, see ya in fourteen hours!

RITA: But, Mista Mercury—!

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

Wow. He’s a real mess, ain’t he?

Not like you, Rita. You got your whole act together. And you still got fifteen minutes to call and—

SOUND: CLUNK.

—oh, no, I dropped the comms again.

(SIGHS) Alright. Time’s a wastin’!

***

RITA: I’m tellin’ ya, the boss is impossible to plan a party for! I called so many people, his one friend, his other friend, and everybody else I could think of, but nobody can make it! Valles Vicky’s busy with her wife, the Prince of Mars said he can’t afford a phone, and Cecil Kanagawa, well, he really did want to come, but then he was talkin’ about the stuff he was thinkin’a bringin’ so I decided we better not.

What? What? Frannie, you gotta do somethin’ about the volume on your comms. Everyone else always comes through loud and clear and you just sound like you’re talkin’ with a mouth full of paper spaceships, which coincidentally just so happens to be how I tried to convince the Prince of Maaaaars that I needed medical attention but it didn’t even work so don’t try.

Does he have any work friends? Frannie, I’m his work friends.

(SIGHS) Everyone from his HCPD days either moved off Mars or wants Mista Steel dead, and that’s the kind of drama you really don’t want at a birthday party, Frannie, not unless you think it might be really really really boring— (GASPS)

No, wait, that ain’t true! There’s one cop who doesn’t want Mista Steel dead! I'm pretty sure!

Thanks for the idea, Frannie! I’m gonna give him a call right now!

SOUND: COMMS BEEP. COMMS BEEPS.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…

CAPTAIN KHAN (FROM COMMS): God damn it, Loo, for the last time, I told you I’m not taking calls today!

RITA: You are now! This is Rita, from Rita’s house, home of the Rita, and I got a question for you!

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Yeah, wow, geez, forceful. Kinda tempting to just do exactly what you say, when you yell it like—

Wait. Rita? Like… Steel’s secretary? We’ve talked before, right?

RITA: You bet, buster! And I ain’t gonna hang up this phone until I get an answer!

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Alright, geez, just get to it, the kids are waiting for me.

RITA: Mista Steel is having a birthday party in five minutes! And also, would you like to come?

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Do I want to… what? In five minutes?

RITA: It is okay if you are a little late, so long as you bring snacks!

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Uh… no. That’s my answer. I’m not. No, I’m not gonna do it. Not gonna go to Steel’s birthday party in five minutes.

RITA: …Oh.

KHAN (FROM COMMS): So, uh… you have a good evening, ma’am.

RITA: But but but but but but but but but— (CRYING)

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Oh geez, oh no, oh fuddlenugs…

NOOR KHAN (FROM COMMS): Omar! That had better not be work on the phone! We were just about to start wrapping presents!

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Yeah, uh, it’s not work, Noor! Just a… crying lady! Be right out!

NOOR (FROM COMMS): Omar!

KHAN (FROM COMMS): I said I’d be right out! Thank you for respecting my space!

SOUND: DOOR SLAMS (FROM COMMS).

(SIGHS) Alright, come on, calm down. What’s this all about?

RITA: (HICCUP-CRYING) I ju– I ju– I ju– I ju– I just wanted to make a good birthday party for Mista Steel, and I kept tryin’ but nobody can make it and I just wanted it to be perfect and the best forever is that too much to aaaaaaask… (SOBBING)

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Alright, shhh, shhh. Calm down, now. It’s alright. (COUGHS) Um, hey, look, Rita… I just can’t do it. Reason one: I don’t even like Steel. Reason two: it’s Christmas Eve! I’ve got my hands full over here. Full of presents and babies and a whole turkey, earlier. That didn’t last long.

RITA: Christma Zeve? Now you’re just makin’ things up!

KHAN (FROM COMMS): I’m not! It’s an Earth thing. And anyway, I’m too busy—

RITA: Busy with what?

KHAN (FROM COMMS): I don’t know. First we’re gonna wrap all their presents and put them underneath the tree. Then I dress up as a big happy giant in red clothes and try to steal the presents while they hit me with a stick to make me spit out all the chocolate coins I crammed in my mouth, and maybe later we’ll go from door to door and ask for letters cut out in the shape of different guts and things.

RITA: That… sounds… really complicated and fun.

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Yeah, I don’t know. Earth traditions are kinda free-form. Feels sorta like we improvise it most of the time.

RITA: Well, can I bring Mista Steel there?

KHAN (FROM COMMS): No, Rita. This day’s for family. Also, we’re supposed to have fun on Christmas. And Steel? Well, Steel ain’t exactly fun.

RITA: That’s true. But— (SNIFFLES) What am I supposed to do about his birthday party?

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Alright. Fine. You need some wisdom? You need old man beardo to come down from the mountain and give you his ten amendments? Well, I don’t got ten. I only got one. But here it is: you know what the true meaning of Christmas is, Rita?

RITA: No. I don’t care about Christmas. I care about Mista Steel! An’ it’s his birthday! And it ain’t even Christmas, you said it’s Christma Zeve, and—

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Alright. True meaning of birthdays, then. Christmas is probably somebody’s birthday. That’s just math. But anyway, the true meaning of birthdays is this: you didn’t die yet.

RITA: Hmm, yeah.

Captain, I don’t know what that means.

KHAN (FROM COMMS): It means… I don’t know, you could be dead! You know how easy it is to be dead? People do it every day. Some people know it’s comin’, some people don’t, some people are scared of it, some people aren’t. But the fact is that once you go dead there’s no going back, so, like… it’s pretty special that you’re not right now. So… on your birthday we just… mark the day you started living. We celebrate it. You get your loved ones all together and you kiss ‘em and love ‘em because, hell, you’re not gonna be able to do it forever. And that means no matter how many friends you got with you, no matter how your life’s going today, no matter how many people you left behind… that means today is pretty special. Always.

RITA: (SNIFFLES) Wow, Captain Khan. That was really nice.

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Yeah. It was, wasn’t it. (COUGHS) Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go hug every single one of my kids at least a couple times.

RITA: Okay. Have a good Christma Zeve, Captain Khan.

KHAN (FROM COMMS): Yeah, you too, Rita. And tell Steel… enh, just give him a hug, okay? Poor sucker looks like he needs it.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

RITA: (DEEP BREATH) Well, Rita? I guess it’s just gonna be you tonight. You’re just gonna have to be enough fun for everyone. Oh, wait, that’s really easy.

SOUND: DOORBELL.

Hello, who is it?

JUNO: (THROUGH THE DOOR) It’s Juno. Open up.

RITA: Be right there!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Alright. Just gotta be as fun as four dozen people. Easy.

SOUND: KNOCKING.

JUNO: (THROUGH THE DOOR) Rita!

RITA: Comin’, boss!

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Surpriiiiise!

JUNO: Oh, no. No, you didn’t. Please tell me you d—

Oh. You actually didn’t.

RITA: Didn’t… forget your birthday?

JUNO: No, you didn’t throw me a big surprise party. I was worried I was gonna show up and there would be like fifty people here. (SIGHS) That’s a huge relief, honestly.

RITA: It… is?

JUNO: Yeah. Y’know, on the way over here I got myself so worked up over the thought that I actually convinced myself you’d invite a cop. Like, I don’t know, Captain Khan or somethin’.

RITA: So, you’re… so you’re– just so I’m sure. You’re not upset then, that it’s just you and me, and nobody else and we really are goin’ to see a movie?

JUNO: Honestly, Rita, it’s been a long day. I think a movie’s about all I’ve got in me.

Mind if I, uh, powder my nose before we go?

RITA: Uh… sure.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Nice paper spaceships, by the way.

RITA: Thanks, boss.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS, CLOSES.

Huh. I guess… nothin’ did go wrong tonight, really.

How come this feels too easy?

SOUND: DOORBELL.

Oh, there it is! Oh no, oh no, oh no…

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Mista Mercury, hi, hello, glad you could make it but now you gotta go, I’ll talk to you later—

PETER NUREYEV(!): Mister… who?

RITA: Mista—

Oh. It’s just a delivery man.

NUREYEV: Indeed it is. Tsar Shipping, at your service. Sign here, please.

SOUND: SCRIBBLING.

And there you are.

RITA: But… I didn’t order any flowers—

NUREYEV: Goodbye.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

RITA: Huh.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

JUNO: Rita? Who was that?

RITA: Uh… just a delivery man, boss.

JUNO: Oh, good. Had me worried it was somebody coming for a party. Guess I’m jumpier than I– thought…

What are those?

RITA: Uh, flowers? Card says they’re for you.

JUNO: Can– can I… can I see ‘em?

SOUND: CRUMPLING.

RITA: I mean, they are yours, boss.

JUNO: Does the card say anything?

RITA: It just says… happy birthday, Juno. Aw, that’s nice, ain’t it? Must be from a client who knows where I live and also knew you were going to be here at exactly this time today. Sweet.

Uh, boss? You okay?

JUNO: Yeah. Yep. I-I’m fine. Probably just… jumping to conclusions. Hey, uh… what if we go to that movie now?

RITA: In just a sec, boss. But first…

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

Nnnyah! Happy birthday, Mista Steel! And merry Christmas.

JUNO: Yeah. Thanks.

Wait, what the hell’s a Christmas?

RITA: I don’t know. Captain Khan told me to say it.

JUNO: Captain Kh– why were you talking to Captain—

RITA: Oh! Ah! Would ya look at the time! We’re nearly gonna be late for the movie, let’s go, Mista Steel, I won’t take anythin’ but the best seats in the house!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

JUNO: Yeah, alright. Be right there.

Dahlias and roses… huh.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOPHIE KANER: In honor of this story about being thankful for those around you, we would like to finish this tale a little differently.

KEVIN VIBERT: We at The Penumbra would like to express our thanks to the following people:

SOPHIE: Firt and foremost, to all of our supporters on Patreon who make this project possible. We could not do this without you.

MUSIC: STARTS.

This half-season your contributions have bought us equipment, security, knowledge, and time. This show would be only a shadow of what it is without you. Thank you.

KEVIN: We would like to give special thanks to our $30 per episode supporters Atha Lang, Vron, Charlie Spiegel, Minchowski, Jamie Gunter, and the Princess and the Scrivener. Your generosity genuinely stuns us. Thank you.

SOPHIE: We would also like to thank the actors who lent their voices to this episode, including: Kate Jones as Rita, Stefano Perti as Mick Mercury, Sophie Kaner – that’s me! – as Sasha Wire, Jason Mellin as the Dark Matters agent, Elliot Sicard as Omar Khan, Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, and Noah Simes as… well, you know who.

KEVIN: We’d also like to thank the people behind who worked behind the scenes to make this show we love, including: Alice Chung, Kat Buckingham, Noah Simes, Mikaela Buckley, Ryan Vibert, Scott Gallica, Grahame Turner, and I would like to thank Sophie Kaner.

SOPHIE: And I would like to thank Kevin Vibert.

KEVIN: And more than anyone else, Traveler, we want to thank you. You who write stories about us, who draw art of us, who talk about us, who think about us, who lend your ears to us. You who board our train for parts unknown time and time again. Thank you.

SOPHIE: The year’s end comes upon us, Travelers. But don’t worry, we’ll see you again in March, when season two continues. So rest up, prepare yourselves, and have a very merry… birthday.

(LAUGHING) I might cry. I have to do it again.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Amaya Valentine (a Charlie-centric, Charlie/Zari, John/Nate, and Nate & Charlie story)

Hank knows Charlie as the woman who broke Nate's heart. When his son starts acting fishy, he takes it upon himself to fix what he thinks is the problem, and approaches Charlie - appeals to her to work things out with Nate.

Except Charlie isn't Amaya. But she must play the part when invited to dinner at the Heywood Manor. It's hard though when your host is trying to hook you up with his son - your friend - who couldn't be more embarrassed. And then there's the other guest who seems to know all the cards even though his are held tight to his chest. What's a former shapeshifter to do?

           There’s laughter coming from the parlour. Gathered around an opened bottle of brandy John, Zari, and Charlie clink glasses and celebrate a job well done. The team has returned from another mission, collecting the mystical creature before they could further mess with the timeline. Ray and Sara were transporting it back to the Time Bureau now, both staying there to visit their significant others. And Mick had stomped his way back towards his room, grumbling about beer and Garima. That left the three of them to their own plans.

           “I’ve got to hand it to ya, Charlie,” John says, “You pulled a bloody fast one on those ogres. They’re probably still scratching their heads!”

           Charlie waves him off, downing her glass in one sip. She reaches for the bottle as Zari knocks into her from the side. They were sitting very close together. “And you thought you were useless without your abilities.”

           “Oh sod off, Zari,” she chuckles. Charlie shoves her back, rolling her eyes. “Ogres aren’t the brightest bunch – I didn’t need to change my shape when I can belch with the best of them!” She whacks her chest, drawing out another large burp. John howls with laughter while Zari chokes, leaning away from her.

           “You’ve got to teach me how to do that!” John tries to mimic her, but only conjures up a pitiful hiccup. Zari snorts into her drink. “All my life and that’s the best I can do.”

           “I’ll trade ya: fix me and I’ll show you how to burp like a woman.”

           “Charlie, you know I’d do it if I could… is there anything else you might want in the meantime?”

           She doesn’t have long to think over her offer. A flash of light erupts in the bridge, everyone turning to see whom it is. Hank walks in, the Time Bureau fading as the portal closes. “Hello, Legends,” he says, eyes locked in on Charlie, “Just who I wanted to see.”

           “Bloody hell…” Charlie fixes her posture, tugging her feet off a nearby trunk and sitting straighter. She clears her throat, putting on her best American accent. “Mr. Heywood! What a pleasure it is to see you again?”

           “Likewise, Amaya.” He glances at John and Zari. “Nice to see you two as well, John and…”

           “Zari.” Her voice strained, Charlie notices how much she tensed when he entered. She wants to reach over and comfort her, but holds the action. ‘Amaya wouldn’t do that… need to play the part.’

           “Right, Zari…”

           “So Hank,” John says, “What brings you aboard the Waverider? Fancy a yoga lesson?” He winks, swirling his drink around. Hank flushes and splutters, and Charlie wishes more than anything to now high-five John. ‘God, Amaya why did you have to have such a stick up your arse?’

           “For your information, Mr. Constantine, I came here to speak with Amaya.” He tilts his head towards the exit. Neither he nor Zari make any effort to leave.

           Charlie steps in before a fight could start. “I’m sure whatever you have to say can be said in front of them?”

           “It’s about Nate…”

           Out of the corner of her eye, she sees John perk up considerably. He’s shifted, sitting farther forward in his seat than before.

           “And just what about Nate?” she asks.

           “Well you see…” he trails off, glancing away. Hank presses his mouth into a firm line before sighing. “I think you dumping him messed him up pretty bad. And I came to see if you’d consider taking him back.”

           ‘Oy, the bloke was never mine to begin with!’ “Hank, me and Nate we, uh… we – well, we called our relationship off together. For the good of the timeline –“

           “But you’re here now,” Hank says, “Not back in the past or in Africa.”

           Charlie forces a smile to her face. “That’s right… I am here. Me… Amaya Jawe –“

           Zari elbows her, whispering, “Jiwe.”

           “Jiwe.” She gives him some jazz hands. “That’s me…” Hank shoots her a questioning look – ‘Can’t have that can we?’ “So Nate? Why do you think he has a hard time of… moving on?”

           Hank takes the bait. “He’s been acting different, weird… do you mind if I have some of that?” He helps himself to the bottle anyway, pouring two fingers into a nearby glass. “Much better. Nate seems like a different person, but not in the way that I was liking.”

           John scoffs. “Because that’s all that matters, innit?”

           He ignores him. “He’s less organized, distracted, coming in late and ruffled. Sometimes forgetting things, even important meetings. Recently, he kept me waiting for over a half-hour. And when he finally made it he said he overslept, his suit a complete wreck.”

           She doesn’t miss the way John smirks into his drink. “Well, that doesn’t really mean he’s hurt over me. We’ve been over for a while and… he could be overworked? Maybe just cut him some slack?”

           “It can’t be, he and I have similar workloads and I’m fine.” He pours another cup, already finished with his first. “And sure, he might have been okay when he thought you were in a different time period. But this shift happened after our inspection…”

           “Y’know, Hank,” John pulls himself up, snatching the brandy away from him, “this sounds like the sort of conversation you have with Nate. Maybe he knows what’s going on in his life.”

           “I think I have a better handle on what goes on in my son’s life than you give me credit for, Mr. Constantine,” he tells him, “Why don’t you go slink off to your library or whatever?”

           Charlie moves between them before John could throw the first punch. “I have to agree with John… even though it hurts to admit it. I’m sure if you talk with Nate you’ll see he’s moved on –“

           “If you could just give him one more chance, Amaya, please,” Hank says, “Nate… he’s never really been in a relationship. You were his first true girlfriend. He said he was in love with you. Of course he’s not handling it well.”

           “…I don’t know…”

           “Just come for dinner – please, I insist – tonight. Nate and Ava are coming, as well as few other members on my team. You could be our liaison from the… Legends.” He heads out back towards the bridge. “I have good faith you’ll make the right decision, Amaya. Nate’ll be so happy!” Hank rattles off his address as he opens the portal back, stepping through, glass still in hand.

           Everyone lets out a sigh at his exit.

           “Always a charmer,” Zari says, downing her drink, “I can’t believe he did that.”

           “You can’t?” Charlie turns to her. “You weren’t the one being asked to give a guy – that you’ve never dated, might I add – another chance by his bloody father!”

           “But you’re gonna go aren’t you?”

           “You can’t be serious, Zari.”

           “He owns us, whether we like it or not,” she says, “I’m not saying you should go out and sleep with Nate but… toss him a bone? Maybe convince Nate to talk to his dad so he stops breathing down your neck?”

           “Good chance that’ll do her,” John mutters darkly, drinking directly from the bottle, “Hank’s almost as single-minded as that minotaur – even worse than the ogres we just sent away. He won’t stop until ol’ Charlie’s walking down the aisle towards Nate…”

           Zari raises a brow at him. “And what’s gotten into you?”

           He moves into Charlie’s space. “So are you going to do it? Man doesn’t know what he’s talking about… from the sound of things seems like Nate has moved on just fine.”

           “And what are you talkin’ ‘bout, mate?”

           “Tardiness? Mussed up clothing? Sounds like ol’ Nate’s found himself someone to dull the pain from all the heartbreak you put him through ‘Amaya’.” He’s too close now, pungent breath wafting into her nose.

           “Get away, man,” she pushes him, “so what if he is? Probably for the best, innit?”

           “Probably…” he looks from her to Zari, then back at her once more. “Whatever. I remembered I left a few things unattended. Later.” He shuffles off, the barely filled brandy bottle dangling from his grip.

           Charlie plops into her seat, draping her legs over Zari. “I have no idea what just happened there.”

           Zari agrees. “And I thought he was getting better after our little adventure together.”

           “You and me both,” she says, “but I guess we can never really know what goes on in the mind of John Constantine.”

           “But do we even want to?” Charlie chuckles, shaking her head. “Still, he makes a good point. If Hank was willing to go behind Nate’s back…”

           “I think you’ve got the better idea, love,” Charlie tells her, “Nate needs to know. I’ll try and get him alone and explain why I’m there… and have him blow up at his ol’ man so I don’t have to.”

           “You think you can be Amaya for an entire night?”

           Charlie smiles, Zari’s hand a comforting weight on her knee. “Maybe if you give me a crash course?”

           Zari rolls her eyes, but matches Charlie’s grin. “Where do we begin? Amaya Jiwe, owner of the Anansi Totem, was born in the village of –“

           “Zambesi! I remember that from when Sirens Sara asked me.”

           “You should give yourself more credit, Charlie…”

           “Whatever, keep going. We haven’t got a lot of time!”

           If Charlie ever met Amaya, she’d introduce her to fishnets and kohl eyeliner. ‘And combat boots,’ she thinks after tripping on her heels for the fifth time. When Zari presented her outfit, Charlie was ready to change her plans and spend her night with more enjoyable company. But after some serious convincing and heavy compliments from both Zari and Gideon, she hopped into a time ship and made her way to the Heywood mansion.

           “Bloody commercial capitalist wet dream is what it is…” She wastes time staring up at it, disgusted by its grandeur. When she can’t stand to look at it anymore, Charlie makes her way to the entrance. She rings the bell.

           It’s a quick beat before the door’s opening. Nate stands on the other side, slack jawed at the sight. “What – what are you…?”

           She wants to tell him. But she spies Hank right around the corner, and slips into ‘Amaya’. “Nate! How have you been? It’s so good seeing you again.” Charlie moves in for a hug.

           “What are you doing here?”

           “I’ll tell you later, just let me the hell in, mate.”

           He does, glaring at her with no hidden meaning. She tries to tell him they’ll talk later with her eyes, but Hank flies from his perch over to them.

           “Amaya! Why isn’t this a delight? I’m so glad you could make it.”

           “Well, how could I say no,” she says, shaking his hand, “When I heard you needed a Legion liaison for this important dinner, I couldn’t turn down the opportunity. Besides, who would they have sent if not me? Constantine?” Hank laughs while Nate shoots her the dirtiest of looks. ‘What’s this all about, then?’

           “Between the two of them, I’d always choose Amaya, wouldn’t you say so, too, Nate?” The younger Heywood offers a half-hearted grumble, closing himself off to them. Hank barely notices. “Come on, we don’t want to keep the others waiting. Nate, give your arm to her – be a gentleman.”

           Nate does so, his arm as stiff and awkward as her gait in the fancy heels she wears. They make their entrance behind Hank. The room barely gives them notice, the older men too entranced in their own conversations. Only Ava looks their way, and her eyes nearly bug out of her head.

           She walks over to them. “Ch… Amaya –“ she glances at Hank, “ – I didn’t know you would be here tonight.”

           “A last-minute thing,” she tells her, “Mr. Heywood graciously extended the invite to the Legends, and I accepted on their behalf.”

           “Really?”

           “Yes,” she says with a tight-lipped smile, “I can assure you there are no hidden agendas or intentions to this at all.”

           “Really? But then it wouldn’t be a true Washington party…”

           A fifth person walks up to them, cutting into the space between Nate and Hank. He’s in stark contrast to the other partygoers. His suit is a deep burgundy, and his skin is much smoother and darker than everyone else’s. The man’s chocolate-colored eyes rove over Charlie in a way that sends a shiver up her spine. “There’s always a little subterfuge here in D.C…” His voice is like sweet honey, the southern twinge somewhat familiar to her. ‘I’m sure I’ve heard it before…’

           Hank chuckles, clapping the man on his shoulder, “You’re a real card.”

           Nate huffs, eyeing the other man curiously. “Dad, I don’t believe you’ve introduced us to your… friend?’

           The other man takes the lead, grabbing Nate’s hand in a firm shake. “Mr. Roger Kant, pleasured to make your acquaintance.” He tugs Nate away from Charlie, and closer to him. He exaggerates a sniff, and looks to him with a knowing smirk. “Might I say you smell delightful this evening? Your cologne… a bit smoky but… where did you get it?”

           “…A friend gave it to me.”

           “And your tie?” he asks, playing with the red accessory in his other hand, “Is that from your friend, too? I must say it’s awfully familiar…”

           Charlie clears her throat, drawing the attention away from an increasingly uncomfortable Nate. “Speaking of familiar,” she says, “I swear I’ve seen you before…”

           Roger turns to her. “I have that kind of face,” he says, letting Nate go. He gives his hand to Charlie, nearly crushing her hand in his grip. “Although you… are nothing like Hank has described.”

           “Hank talks about me?” she asks. ‘Oh, how I want to punch him in his smarmy face…’

           “Only good things,” he assures her, “Roger and I work very closely on a project together and he got wind about Legends. Of course I had to tell him about who you all were.”

           “You and your team are a heroic bunch,” Roger tells her, “It’s good seeing taxpayer money actually go towards something useful.” Hank laughs again, the others joining in a more pitying attempt.

           “As much fun as this is,” Hank says, “I think it’s finally time we sit down for our meal. Let’s move this to the dining room.” He moves towards the other side of the room, over to the only other woman there besides Ava and Charlie.

           “That’s my mom, Dorothy,” Nate whispers to her, “now can you please explain to me why you’re here?”

           Before she could, Roger interrupts. “Let’s hurry, then,” he says, “we don’t want to miss out on the dinner.”

           Charlie quickly whispers to Nate, “Later.” Annoyed, Nate has to accept the delay, and guides her over towards the dining room. Ava walks close to her as well.

           “I’d like an explanation, too, when you have the chance.”

           ‘What am I a bloody recapper?’ They enter a dark, mahogany paneled room. The table, covered in an expensive-looking tablecloth and decked out in similarly priced dishes, is long. Hank sits at the head of the table closest to the door, while Dorothy has taken the seat opposite him at the very far end. “Shouldn’t your mum be right next to him?”

           “It’s how they always do this,” Nate shrugs, “Mom handles one half while Hank the other.”

           “Nate!” Hank calls to him, “Come sit by me.” The younger Heywood rolls his eyes, but goes. He’s about to sit when – “Nate, pull Amaya’s seat out for her.” It’s a harsh murmur, but she hears it.

            “Don’t worry Hank,” Charlie tells him, “I can handle a little chair by myself.” She takes the seat next to Nate, with Ava sitting next to her. Roger sits on the other side of Hank, across from Hank. He still has a devilish smirk on his face, aimed directly at Nate. ‘Looks like someone at this party is interested in Nate… don’t know how Hank will like it, though.’

           In an instant, their first course is being brought out. Charlie nearly digs in when she sees the steak, smothered in delicious gravy. Nate squeezes at her knee when she picks up her fork and knife. “Wait.”

           Once the last plate has been placed, Hank rises from his seat, glass in hand. “Thank you all for coming tonight. I won’t make it long – food is best eaten when warm. But I would like to make a toast – to the many relationships here tonight. Over time things have come at us, and we adapt. A Heywood bond is one that’s as strong as steel. It takes a lot to make them break!” There’s a chorus of agreement from the room.

           Charlie sips at her wine, rolling her eyes. ‘Not one for subtlety, now are you, Hank?’

           She can’t dig into her meal fast enough. Charlie eats with gusto, stuffing large cuts of steak into her mouth. Its only after she’s stuffed her cheeks does she notice the number of stares she’s garnered. She chews. “Umm… it’sh really goodsh…” Charlie swallows around the mouthful, blushing.

           Hank chuckles. “Well, we always try and get the best food, don’t we Nate?”

           “You did outdo yourselves with this –“

           “I find that a good meal makes people much more comfortable,” Hank talks over him, “puts them in a better mood, helps ease any tension to let healthy discussion out.”

           “I’d agree with you on that,” Roger says, “I’ve made many a deal over a bottle of wine and a shared meal.” He tips his glass over at Nate. “People loved to be wined and dined. Makes them feel… special.” Roger winks at him.

           ‘Maybe it’s just government men,’ Charlie thinks, ‘any ounce of subtlety was sucked up along with their souls.’

           The dinner moves along at a glacial pace.

           Charlie, loath to converse more than necessary, made sure there was always chewing something. When her plate was wiped clean, she attacked the dinner rolls. By her third one, Hank seemed less put off by her eating.

           “So, Amaya,” he says, “Nate told me a little about you, but I want to hear it from you. You were in World War II… what was it like?”

           She panics. ‘Bloody hell… it’s war, what do you expect?’ Instead of answering, Charlie knocks her knife onto the floor. “Whoops, let me just…” She ducks her head under the table. Nate and Hank argue in the background.

           “Hank, maybe Amaya can tell you another time… this is a dinner –“

           “I was trying to make polite conversation, at least I haven’t been ignoring her the entire evening.”

           “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

           Charlie tugs at Ava’s pant leg, drawing her attention. She mouths ‘Help Me’ before returning above the table.

           “It’s all right, Nate,” Charlie says, “To answer your question, Hank, World War II was –“ She’s hit with a wet splash, a glass of wine falling into her lap.

           Ava gasps. “I’m so sorry, Amaya! My hand slipped and…” Charlie glares at her. Ava winces, lips taut in apologetic surprise.

           “It’s okay Ava…” She turns to Hank. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just…”

           “Please, before it sets – Nate will show you to the bathroom, won’t you?”

           “Gladly.”

           They make their leave. Nate leads her away towards the bathroom. It’s small and sterile, the white making her eyes hurt. He dabs a towel under warm water, and hands it to her. “So, now that we’re alone… what the hell did Hank do?”

           “The man wants us back together.”

           “We were never together.”

           “Exactly,” she dabs at the stain. “He swung by earlier with this daft plan to have us talk about our ‘break-up’ and ‘work through things’.”

           “Dammit Hank…” Nate wipes a hand across his jaw, leaning against the doorjamb. “Did he say why?”

           “Talked about you acting all suss,” she shrugs, “He thinks it’s because you miss Amaya, and seeing me on board messed with his ‘rising star’ of a son.”

           Nate blushes. “I’m not… that’s not true.”

           “Is it?” she turns to him, “I mean, let’s be honest – it was a bit of a shock seeing this face. And as I’ve come to learn Amaya is one hot lady. I wouldn’t blame you if there was a little something stirring in here.” She pats at his chest, startled when he grabs at her wrist.

           “You’re not Amaya, Charlie,” he says, “Amaya’s gone. I’ve accepted it.”

           “Then what’s got your knickers in a twist?”

           “I… I’ve started seeing someone else.”

           She blinks. “Really?”

           “I can have a life outside of work,” Nate says, “No matter how strange my dad thinks that is.”

           “Well… looks like John was right then.”

           Nate raises a brow, cheeks redder than before. “What did – what did John say?”

           “Figured you were getting it good, forgetting Amaya between the sheets, if you catch my drift.”

           “It’s nothing like that,” he tells her, “I… it’s not a rebound it’s…” Nate struggles with his words, fists steeling up every now and then. She hisses as the cold metal hits her skin.

           “Hey, it’s okay, mate,” Charlie says, “you don’t have to explain it to me. You’re not interested… I’m not interested. Just… tell your dad what’s really going on.”

           “He… wouldn’t understand. Or like it.”

           “He might? But maybe tell him out of earshot of that Roger. Doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to take ‘no’ for an answer…”

           “You picked up on that, too?”

           “Have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not see it.”

           “He was very forward and… kind of creepy.”

           “You have a problem with forward men?”

           “On the contrary…” Nate chuckles, pushing off the frame, “Come on, we should get back before Hank slips my mom’s engagement ring off her finger and slips it into your dessert.” Charlie wants to ask more questions, but lets Nate off easy. ‘There’s always next time.’

           He helps her back to the dining room, both lighter than when the evening started.

           Charlie finally slips away, one of the last to leave the Heywood manor. It was very late, and even though Hank offered her a room, she put her foot down and bid her good nights. Nate offered to portal her back to the Waverider. “I have to fly the ship back anyway,” she says, “Plus it’ll do me good to get more time behind the wheel.” They hug, and she starts on the path down the walkway.

           She doesn’t get very far before a throat clears itself from her right. “Miss Jiwe,” Roger says, smoke drifting off a stub of a cigarette, “Leaving so soon?”

           “I wouldn’t say soon, Mr. Kant, it is nearly midnight…” He moves out of the shadows and closer to her. Charlie stares at him, synapses firing into the abyss, trying to recall where she’s seen him before. “I know we’ve had to have crossed paths at some point…”

           “D.C. is a big place, honey, we may have crossed paths and neither of us could have noticed…” He takes a drag off his cigarette, the puff of ash falling out of his mouth. “I could say the same to you…”

           “Well, I have that kind of face.”

           “Kind of faces.” Her heart stops. “You have such an old soul, timeless, like you’ve walked a mile in a thousand shoes… I bet you can leave here and reinvent yourself over and over again.”

           Roger sniffs around the truth, and Charlie has her hackles raised. “I wouldn’t say that… I’m kind of partial to the life I have right now. And the face…”

           “Only someone who can’t change their fate would say something like that…”      

           “Where’d you hear that bit?”

           “Around…”

           “Well you might want to listen closer,” Charlie tells him, “you might hear something else.”

           He holds his hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend –“

           “Fantastic job, then.”

           “I can tell when a conversation is over,” he says, stepping away, “Hopefully we’ll meet again…” Roger disappears into the shadows once more. Charlie waits, watching the space, to see if he’ll make another appearance. But the other man has vanished completely into the darkness.

           “Bloody government officials… demons, the lot of them…” She stomps her way back to her ship, muttering about how Zari owes her; ignorant, to the eyes that follow her all the way back.

[sailor-cresselia]

okay so that article on burnout i reblogged immediately before this post.

i started to write a freaking tag essay and realized that was a terrible idea.

so here, have a post under a cut.

(also, like, there’s probably going to be copious swearing because? i’m actually trying to avoid censoring myself for this one? we’ll see.)

The decision paralysis, the concept of ‘not meeting adult-hood landmarks because they don’t exist anymore’, the idea of ‘being one of the more productive people on the work floor is still not enough, because i can’t get things done at home’...

well fuck, i’m in this fucking picture and i don’t fucking like it.

i mean, i suck. i know i suck, and people just get mad at me when i say that. and i’m damn well aware they’re mad at the sentiment and not at me, but since i’m the one thinking the bullshit, then they’re mad at me for it existing. it’s just that they don’t see it that way.

because my brain is dumb, which means i’m dumb.

anxiety fucking sucks, and i’m not even sure if that’s one of the things i was diagnosed with anymore, because the only ones i remember were ‘depression’ and ‘aspergers’, but. like. i’m not sure the depression one was accurate, and technically speaking aspergers doesn’t exist anymore? because god fucking forbid we want to have something to call it. also, they didn’t actually tell me the autism one until i was entering high school, and i’m pretty sure that i’d been diagnosed mid-middle school. and also i’m not even confident i remember any of that correctly, since everything blurred together pretty much immediately.

the sentiment of “There’s a word for it” is so fucking important, especially when you have trouble putting things in words. when your mouth and brain are running at different speeds, and you can’t say the thoughts before you lose track of which sentence you were on, you need to have a phrase ready. But if you don’t, you get the pauses that frustrate everyone including yourself, and mean that nothing actually gets said.

see: every fucking time i try to talk to anyone.

i got sidetracked again. i was planning to ‘copy’ the tag essay over here. whoops.

The thing about the ‘decision paralysis’ that the article mentioned... well, one of the many things about it, is that you can’t actually explain it to someone who doesn’t go through it themselves. See again: “There’s a word for it.”

I have yet to be able to explain to my parents that “No, i really have trouble with making a fucking decision on how to find the music you want for that playlist. I can’t figure out what search terms to use, because I don’t actually know what you’re talking about for ‘dinner music’, and the explanations you were able to give didn’t. actually. y’know. help.”

That’s not their fault, that’s on me being stupid and dumb.

i can’t make a decision because i freeze up. I freeze up because i know i will inevitably get some part of the decision wrong, and it doesn’t matter how infinitesimal that part is, it’s still wrong. and having been in the ‘advanced track’ or whatever the hell we called it at my school, i got convinced that even slightly wrong is completely wrong. and that’s just not okay.

i don’t even think that sentiment actually came from the teachers? or the lessons? or anything really? but welcome to america, where if you’re in the ‘high performing’ section, you somehow get convinced that anything less than perfect is as good as a failure.

(where you go on a vacation to disney in fourth grade and are still required to write the mandatory journal entry every day, even though you don’t. know. what. to. say.)

(a lot of those ‘daily writing assignments’ we did wound up being my first forays into fanfiction actually. ... i don’t really know what my teachers thought of those particular entries. wish i could find some of those notebooks, it would be good to post for a laugh.)

but i digress. again.

i can’t explain the ‘i’m not able to make a decision’ thing to anyone. because i freeze up when trying to figure out how to explain it, and that leads to the awkward pauses in speech, which leads to a completely different form of freezing up, because i don’t want to annoy people.

Being annoying is basically the same as being wrong and failing, after all.

And. like. i know that getting stupid, mundane things ‘wrong’ isn’t the end of the world. i’m well aware of that, you don’t need to keep reassuring me of that, okay? because that reminder just makes me feel worse, because it means i’m getting upset over stupid fucking things, instead of anything that’s actually bad.

which just leads to another thing that i can’t explain to people, because feeling wrong about stupid things means that I haven’t made enough of a successful effort at being better at being a functional person. That’s what winds up frustrating them, which makes me start tearing up because that’s just what fucking happens, which leads to me just not talking anymore.

because emotions are the enemy and are so often the wrong ones and so much as mentioning them just makes everyone else angry, so. it’s just. best. not to bring it up.

Like, i know that all of this is dumb. so i’m being dumb for thinking that way. But i can’t actually explain that vocally, because then people (my parents) assume (probably) that i’m saying i’m not intelligent. i can’t explain that no, that’s not what i’m saying. i’m saying that the thought itself is dumb, and that the act of thinking said thought is dumb. not that i, myself, am not smart. i know i’m smart. i’m just terrible at being smart.

so i can’t explain that. because there are different definitions for what ‘being dumb’ entails - there’s ‘i’m not intelligent’, which i think is what they conclude i’m saying when i try to explain this stuff, when it’s really, really not. what I’m saying is that the action itself is what’s moronic. but i can’t get that across without tripping over my damned tongue and pausing, and grumbling about dropped words, and frustrating everyone involved in the conversation to the point where i wind up just saying never mind, it’s not important, and changing the subject. or walking away. or letting them change the subject, because fuck knows i’m just going to get that wrong somehow too.

i can’t even fucking put something in the grocery cart when we go shopping, because that’s being super fucking rude and inconveniencing everyone. I’M TWENTY EIGHT AND I CAN’T ALLOW MYSELF THAT.

I live with my parents. that’s another failure, here in the states anyway. because i’m not independent, it’s not even the ‘starting a family’ bullshit, it’s the ‘not able to live on my own because i’m obviously not trying hard enough to not be a fucking dysfunctional coward’ bullshit.

also, for some reason everyone i know in real life, like, people who went to high school or college with me, all think it’s really out of character when they hear me swear? i dunno, because they think i’m too polite or something?

guys. no. it’s that i didn’t talk. ya know, because i’m a fucking coward. or shy. or whichever term you’ll accept for ‘human interaction is fucking terrifying and i’m going to get it wrong somehow whenever i try, so i’m just not going to fucking try that.’

(seriously, people, if i tell you i’m a coward or shy, whichever one i go with, please don’t tell me that that’s not true? because that’s like. the one way we could agree about my rampant social anxiety issues, and i would like people to accept that as an explanation for once, instead of trying to reassure me that it’s not true. because it is. those are the nice, socially acceptable ways of putting the problem.)

(also, like, reassuring me that ‘things are okay, you don’t need to get upset’ actively makes me more upset. It ALWAYS has. That’s not going to change anytime soon. For fucks sake, please stop saying that i ‘don’t need to worry.’ i’m well fucking aware of that, and when i literally ask you to stop saying that, and you say you’re going to make sure to remind me it’s okay, you are literally just making it worse and means i can’t fucking talk to you.)

basically everything is dumb, and i’m dumb and sick of being dumb, which means i’m even dumber and i can’t say a damn thing about it, because it’s rude and inconveniences everyone, and it means i’m. not. trying. hard. enough. to. make. life. work.

... see, if i could, like, print this shit up and hand it to my therapist tuesday? (if that’s even what the meetings are? i don’t fucking know at this point) that might help. or it might get me in hot water. so i’m probably not even going to try.

because the usual reaction from pretty much anyone ever is ‘are the medications not working anymore?’ and that’s. not true? i think? they’re working. i think. but it’s not like i’d know what my actual baseline is without them. because i always feel physically awful if i miss them, but i’m an anxious wreck either way. and since said state of being a wreck is to different degrees from day to day, it’s not like i’ve got a baseline for with the medications, either.

fuck everything, is basically what i’m saying.

... i can’t tell if i got off topic or not anymore. i’m gonna go edit this for spelling and spacing issues now, because while keeping typos in might be more authentic and natural, it also means i feel like an idiot for not being better at typing when i know full well i’m spelling things wrong.

not going after capitalization though. that’d just be a pain in the ass, and caps and italics are a part of tone.

you will have to pry my formatting from my dead, colder hands.

(i run really fucking cold, or at least my extremities do. like, i can put my hand on my face, and i know that it’s way too cold to be normal. i’m pretty sure that’s a bad sign, but it’s literally always been true, so. ??? that’s just how it is.)

(yeah, wow, there were a lot of typing fumbles in here. all of those are gone now. this got stupidly long. why am i allowed to write again?)

[hobbitsetal]

celebratory assassin promposal high school au

for @thisbibliomaniac, because honestly it’s such a nutty idea i couldn’t resist

Cahan shifted nervously and tugged at his tie. Without looking away from the mirror, Rhys said, “Do not mess up my perfect knot.”

Cahan frowned at his brother’s reflection. “It’s a big night. I have a right to be nervous.” 

Rhys clicked his tongue disparagingly, but he didn’t argue, too focused on securing his stiletto knives in his tightly-braided hair without creating suspicious lumps. If their teachers spotted the hilts, he’d get poor marks for obviousness. Junior-year Assassins ought to be above such mistakes.

Poor marks, of course, usually translated into some near-death experience specially tailored to drum the original lesson home. Cahan had very nearly gotten his throat slashed after he’d been startled into an exclamation.

Rather than help his brother, though, he stood in the doorway of the foyer, watching the crowd. Priya had said she’d wear red. Half the boys wore red ties, and all of them glanced around as hopefully as he himself did. Cahan sighed. He might as well go help Rhys.

He sensed a presence in the instant before he would have turned. Senior year of assassin school--he didn’t make freshmen mistakes like turning around. Instead, he dropped to one knee and swung an arm backward at his assailant. The stranger dropped on top of his back, trying to pin him, and Cahan pitched sideways into the wall. It was a calculated move; the stranger slammed into the brick with a gasp of pain. Cahan rocked back, breaking the other man’s grip. He slid a knife from its sheath on his forearm, catching it deftly in his hand. With the open palm of the other hand, he smacked the man’s forehead hard, cracking his head back against the wall.

Coldly, he said, “Hello, Lotaan.”

Lotaan Tiras moved to sit upright and froze as Cahan touched the edge of his knife to Lotaan’s throat. Equally icily, he said, “Windlow. Thought you’d dropped out by now.”

“When I have the chance to defeat you at the skill games?” Cahan said. “Please, Lotaan, don’t delude yourself.”

He rose gracefully and offered a hand. Lotaan ignored it, scrambling to his feet unaided. He brushed past Cahan and stalked into the ballroom, apparently without even glancing around. But when an enterprising sophomore tried to sneak a tag onto his back (five points’ reward from the teachers), Lotaan paused long enough to crack the unlucky girl’s fingers before sauntering over to the punch bowls.

Cahan shook his head and turned back toward Rhys. “Thanks so much for watching my back.”

Rhys smoothed his strawberry blond hair down, still frowning intently at his own reflection. “Can you see any steel anywhere?”

“You’re standing in front of a mirror! Did you not see that rat Tiras sneaking up on me?!”

“If you’re too distracted to handle him,” Rhys said, “you’re too distracted to survive at all. I’m just making sure you haven’t lost your wits as well as your heart.”

Cahan opened his mouth indignantly, but Rhys didn’t even pause for breath. “Have you seen her yet? I don’t think the donkey is going to wait forever.”

Cahan’s mouth remained open for a long moment.

“And I don’t trust those Baltien men to wait for their cue...Luka will, probably, but Egan’s almost as distractible as you are.”

“The donkey?” Cahan gasped. “We said no donkey!”

“You said no donkey.” Rhys waved a hand airily. “But we agreed that I’d be your wingman, and as your wingman, I promise to help you give Priya the proposal of her dreams.”

Cahan rubbed at his temples with the tips of his fingers. “I seriously doubt her dreams involve a pony striped in primary colors and bedecked with flowers.”

“They will after tonight!”

Rhys flashed him a cheeky grin and darted past into the throng. For a minute, Cahan stood gloomily contemplating his reflection, complete with black tie and red rose. A painted pony covered in flowers...and what on earth did Rhys have Priya’s brothers doing, anyway? What cue?

For a romantic, private proposal, this sounded dreadfully involved.

And then Priya swept through the doors, breathless, radiant with her signature belladonna flowers woven into her black hair, wearing a red dress that stole Cahan’s breath and a smile that had stolen his heart long ago.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! I was making one of my specialty tisanes and I blinked and it was twenty after! Have I missed anything?”

A scuffle with your lousy ex-boyfriend. “No,” Cahan said. “You look divine.”

She took his arm, smiling at him. “Murderously divine?”

Cahan grinned back. “Even better. Unsuspiciously divine.”

Priya chuckled. “So if I offer someone a drink...?”

“They’ll take it and drink half before they second-guess the tingling in their mouth.”

“You romantic.” She kissed his cheek.

~~~~

The skill games took half the evening--endless rounds of assassinations acted out, of drugs that weren’t poisons but could have been, of verbal battles seeking to trap admissions, of silent struggles in the shadows with points deducted for visible murders and for being murdered. Cahan excelled at assassinations and hand-to-hand combat. He even succeeded in “killing” Lotaan Tiras once, a victory nearly as sweet as the real thing would have been.

And Priya, Priya handed out drinks like a temple priestess offering libations, promising everything from antidotes to aphrodisiacs, selling her poisonous brews with limpid brown eyes and a sweet smile. Half the students assumed she was one of the catering staff, and half the students were marked “dead” by the teachers.

Normally, Rhys would have been in his element in the verbal battles, outing spies and trapping confessions. But he was disturbingly absent from the festivities, and his absence worried Cahan. Surely he hadn’t actually gotten a pony...not after their conversation about how ponies pooped everywhere. Surely not.

When midnight struck, the teachers called a half to the skill games and awarded prizes. Priya got an exquisite teapot, a nod to her ability to brew nigh-undetectable poisons. Cahan received silver knives, a nod to the number of silent “murders” he’d managed. He was only mildly irked when Lotaan received a pair of bronze knives.

He was majorly irked when a commotion arose in the middle of a slow dance and he realized Rhys was the cause. Everyone slowed to a halt, including them, and turned curiously to the enormous double doors that led to the foyer, and to the clattering echoing from beyond them. 

His hands tightened on Priya’s waist when he caught sight of Rhys’s head above the crowd. Rhys was nearly as short as Cahan; to be visible over everybody meant...oh no. He was on a pony.

Cahan closed his eyes and let his head drop down onto Priya’s shoulder. She put a hand on the back of his neck and whispered, “What’s going on, Cahan?” 

“My brilliant plans are being hijacked and overridden,” he whispered back.

A damp nose nudged his arm. Cahan turned his head slightly and found himself staring at the pony’s muzzle. “Rhys,” he said, “we said no pony!”

“What did you say about confetti?” Rhys asked. “Because I’m not quite sure we had that conversation.” 

Cahan only had time to gape in horror before Rhys produced a trumpet and blasted out a peal that made everyone around him clamp their hands over their ears. A loud pop sounded overhead and they all flinched. But it was only confetti, a million tiny strips of colored paper fluttering down on the startled assassins.

“What is going on?” Priya gasped.

Cahan gave Rhys a withering look. They would have a prolonged conversation later about what being a wingman actually entailed. But since Rhys had set the stage, it made no sense to quibble now over how things should go down.

He dropped to one knee and reached into his pocket...

...and touched nothing. Not even his lucky derringer. All he could think was Now I look stupid.

He didn’t even have to look at Lotaan’s face to know that it was triumphant. The scuffle in the foyer--it hadn’t been malice or oneupmanship. Somehow, Lotaan had known that Cahan meant to propose to Priya tonight. 

Maybe a real murder would gain him a few extra points. Maybe it would get him expelled. Either way, he’d have the satisfaction of strangling Lotaan Tiras tonight.

He surged to his feet, knives already in hand, eyes locked on his target. Then a white body striped in green, red, blue, and yellow stepped between Cahan and his quarry.

“Ye of little faith,” Rhys said. “What kind of wingman would I be if I didn’t make up for you not paying attention to things? Like getting your pocket picked?”

He dropped a small jewelry box into Cahan’s hands. Cahan could just see Lotaan’s face change from triumph to dawning realization and baffled anger. Later, he told himself. Some victories deserved to be cemented in blood. But not tonight.

Tonight, he turned around to find that the other students had drawn back from Priya, leaving her in a little circle carpeted by confetti. She had her hands pressed to her mouth, eyes shining.

Cahan grinned again and dropped to one knee. “Y’know,” he said, “I was just going to take you for a walk and ask you much more quietly. But then Rhys got involved.”

Priya laughed breathlessly and let her hands drop. “Oh good,” she said. “I’ve always dreamed of being carried off on a pony.” She glanced at Rhys and added, “Though I never quite pictured such a colorful one.”

“Priya Baltien,” Cahan said, “will you marry me?”

She laughed again, sobbed once, and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes please.”

His hands were shaking so badly, he almost couldn’t get the ring onto her finger. This was it. This was all he ever wanted from life: the love of a beautiful woman who would help him kill people.

“For the record,” Rhys said loudly, “that confetti could’ve been anthrax. I think I’ve officially won the skill games.”