#but like he's still gonna get his head chopped off and returned in a bucket

[39472034658449305249465224devils]

his heart is so much more beautiful than sigurds and it is a competition

i miss eltoshan

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: Romeo and Juliet but shark merman!Genya x mermaid!Reader. A/N: I too have no idea how it spiraled into angst but it is what it is so enjoy! I realized it was gonna get too long so expect Part II soon (I swear it'll get better). WARNINGS: none

“Where the bloody hell are you off to at this time of the bleeping night?”

Ironic, Genya thought wryly, that sailors on the seas were Sanemi’s sworn enemies but his language was just as filthy as theirs, albeit he was sober (mostly, at any rate; when Obanai came around it was another story). He exhaled sharply, before plastering an innocent expression that failed terribly when he caught the suspicious look on his elder brother’s face as he turned around.

Sanemi glared at him from the entrance of their family home, evidently having woken up when Genya sneaked out. Violet eyes crankily clouded by sleep and his white hair even wilder than usual, Sanemi looked as forgiving as the fishermen that would catch them in their nets and sell them off for their fins. He prayed his brother hadn’t alerted their mother of his night time wanderings and that Sanemi would think this was the first time he was doing this.

“For a swim, I can’t sleep.” Genya’s eye twitched but he blinked to disguise it. He hated lying to his older brother, hell, anyone really, but he had no choice.

He didn’t mind if Sanemi was going to drag him back in screaming bloody murder by his ear fins and threaten to add a few more scars to the ones already criss-crossing both their bodies and chop off his fins to make soup with for disobeying their mother’s curfew rule, although now that he thought about it…it was a little scary.

But it was fine!

As long as she was safe from the numerous wraths that would be incurred if anyone found out what Genya really had been doing at night, he’d have his long, dark purple tail chopped off for all he cared.

Seconds ticked by. If Genya were human sweat would be rolling off him in buckets. He tugged at his piranha-tooth necklace instead. Sanemi continued to glower menacingly.

Then his brother rolled his eyes before drifting back in. “Work on your lying skills if you’re going to go see your little princess.”

Woah, he wasn’t expecting that. Since when was Sanemi so forgiving? He brightened in relief, not realizing how panicked he had been to have Sanemi catch him in such an incriminating move - wait a minute -

“SHE’S NOT MY PRINCESS!”

Presumably his brother had returned to the pod, but he heard a grunt as he hovered around the entrance, face as red as coral and throat struggling to both shout at Sanemi and not wake his siblings. “Whatever you say.”

“We’re just - we’re -” Then another thought struck him. “HOLD UP - HOW LONG - HOW DID YOU KNOW?”

This time Sanemi really poked his head back in with a gritted jaw and twitching eye. “Go find your bleeping precious pearl and LET ME SLEEP ALREADY!”

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, so Genya took the opportunity to flee, flushed and flustered at however in the world had Sanemi discovered his nickname for her?

***

“Ara ara, what do we have here, a little princess running away?”

“Eh, no, no, Kocho-san!” She frantically turned around, eyes widened to the size of the largest, prettiest pearls Genya always liked to compare her to.

The Hashira’s resident healer leaned closer with her customary smile that never wavered, unlike her midnight blue and dark purple tendrils in the still waters. “Really now? Whatever are you doing then? Himejima would be very worried if I were to tell him you were sneaking out at night - not very sneakily, actually, seeing as I’ve seen you do this three times already, little princess.”

She glanced away but the pink blush was still painted on her face for all the ocean to see. Kocho had known all this time? That was very, very bad news…but if she hadn’t confronted her until now it much mean something, right?

Besides, Kocho didn’t sound like the other snitches of other mermaids who’d gotten her into trouble too many times to count by reporting her to her strict father in order to get into his good books: sly, accusing and reprimanding. No, she only sounded as if she were to know why she’d leave it at that. Mere curiosity.

Mere curiosity, she lied to herself reassuringly.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she said aloud. “I wanted to go out and work off the restlessness.”

“Why haven’t you come to me or Kanae then, dear?” Shinobu hummed, then inclined her head to the rows of undersea herbs and concoctions the two sister healers spent their days mixing up for the kingdom’s army. She crossed her arms. “Or is there something else…?”

Jellyfish were hypnotizing to look at; Kocho was hypnotizing to listen to and the truth burst out before she could stop herself.

“I’m - I’m just going to see someone. Please don’t tell Gyomei-san!” She begged, not liking the idea of the giant stone crab-hybrid getting into trouble on her account. Trusted family friend or not her father would definitely have words with her caretaker for letting her run off, especially if he found out that today Gyomei had to leave her with the Kocho sisters to deal with some more troublesome members of the Corps.

“Who is this someone?” Kocho’s smile widened but turned a little more real, more genuine. “Don’t worry, I have no plans to rat you out.”

She cast her eyes down and mumbled a name Shinobu didn’t exactly remember (oddly familiar though, hmmm….), but there was only one reason she would be running off to see someone at this time of the night…her father, the Undersea King Ubuyashiki’s loyal, old-fashioned second in command must not have approved of…

“It's a boy?” Shinobu prodded, not unkindly. “I'd have thought your father would be happy you found a suitor.”

“You know - you know how he is!” She hid her face. Certainly a boy then, but…

Her father was infamous for his beliefs that different species of mercreatures - dolphin with dolphin, fish with fish, octopi with octopi - shouldn't be mixing…one particular species in particular.

Well there was only one shark mercreature that Shinobu was well acquainted with, and if her memory served her right Shinazugawa had a younger brother.

“I would've thought you'd have gone for someone of a more calmer nature.” Shinobu turned away to hide the genuine smirk on her face, her indigo tentacles propelling her back inside. “Don't take too long and tell Genya-kun I said he better not break your heart.”

She knew an olive branch when she saw one, and so blushing furiously she quickly swam away with half formed, stammering questions and protests.

***

“H - hey -oof!”

Genya swore she was more beautiful with every time he saw her, smooth hair drifting in a silky cloud behind her, stars stolen from the above and taken to their new home in her eyes, moonlight highlighting that perfect skin and scales, but she never did believe him (would he? Not when he stuttered and struggled to convey his worship of her eloquently anyway) so he tried to show it in ways she couldn’t deny.

Not to say he didn’t love it when she showered him with affection that nearly gave him a premature death by cardiac arrest either.

Like right now. He prayed to all the Undersea Gods they could stay like this forever, him awkward as ever wrapping his scarred arms around her frail little body, her head tucked into his neck and his buried into her hair, tails intertwined.

Just them. No one else. No one judging them just because he was some shark delinquent boy and she was the closest thing to a princess. Not a thing in the world to rip them apart.

He'd tell her about his training, internally wondering what good karma had he done to earn someone as patient as her sitting through his terrible spluttering and have her tell him it was cute instead. She’d tell him about whatever it was someone as upper class her did on a daily basis, royal gossip and the doings of the Hashira, the Corps’ strongest mercreature soldiers. He laughed, she teased, he blushed, she shyly pecked his cheek; but mostly they just held each other, savor the feeling of fragile content.

Today was a little special - Genya had been planning to gift her something for a while. Himejima-san had no idea, obviously, of who he was seeing (some things were easier to keep from a blind man than others, Genya guiltily thought) but knew enough to know the girl, whoever she was, must be very special to have his apprentice shout and bluster like crazy when he asked. With a quirked smile he had quietly handed Genya a string of pearls the other day and when the oblivious, confused Shinazugawa had asked what for:

“I’m sure your little pearl will enjoy it.”

(The stone crab mercreature had quite the laugh to himself that day watching Genya poorly justify and defend himself. Let’s be honest, everyone knew Genya was chasing after someone.)

He prayed she’d like it. In retrospect it was such a stupid idea. She was nearest thing to Undersea royalty, she could have any jewel the seat offered if she so much as implied it. Such a stupid idea he nearly backed out of it, but the sneaky mermaid had distracted him so well with those glassy eyes and pouting lips that Genya didn’t even realize when she took them out of his grasp.

“Genya-kun, this is so pretty!”

“Har? No, it’s nothing really - just some seed pearls - besides I know you have better ones -”

“But they’re not from you! Help me put it on?”

“…fine, but only because you said so,” he muttered, embarrassed that she could have him wrapped around her finger so well.

“See, I’m matching with you now!” She tapped the driftwood-carved bracelets on his own arms with a bright giggle.

Perfect. Her, everything. Just perfect.

It was for but a moment anyway; something or somebody would always come along to remind them of the invisible glass wall that separated them forever like the poor captured mercreatures stuck in aquariums.

“Right this way, sir…”

“Shit.” Genya muttered some more obscenities and hurriedly untangled himself from her, grabbing her hand with the panicked intention of hopefully swimming off fast enough to - no idea, but anywhere before they were caught.

“Genya - stop - they’re coming this way -” Her warning, worried whisper came far too late.

There really was nothing more awkward than running right into the very person they were trying to run away from, and judging by Tomioka Giyuu’s slack jawed, wide eyed expression he had not been expecting this at all.

“Tomioka?”

Undersea Gods damn this day, why did it have to be HIS voice approaching?

A very awkward pause ensued; the calm before the storm.

“What are you doing with my daughter? This is the fifth time already.”

“Father -”

“Come over here.”

She squeezed his hand weakly before swimming over to her father’s side. Genya lowered his head in fearful respect under her father’s commanding gaze and cold venom in his tone. Tomioka looked on almost apologetically from the side.

“When you prove you’re no less violent and lowly as the two legs above only then are you worthy of even being in her company, shark.”

You’re not good enough for her, he meant.

You’ll never be good enough.

You’re no good.

“Wait!” Her outstretched hand was blocked by her father’s.

Genya swam away as fast as he could, ears burning not from flustered adoration but shame. Predators like him weren’t supposed to be part of her paradise.

Something about being told that constantly was really starting to chip away at him.

***

“Shinazugawa-san gave Tomioka quite the scolding today.” Muichiro peeled himself away from the rock he had been sitting on to chase after Genya, who was listlessly drifting off, turquoise tentacles the same color as the ends of his long hair wavering in the water. His blue eyes were alight with mischief. “I suspect if Oyakata-sama had not been there he would’ve beaten up Tomioka for accidentally leading her father to you both. Tomioka was already lucky to be able to avoid him for three days; but of course the meeting was impossible to miss.”

“Aniki wouldn’t actually do that,” Genya replied distractedly. Lies, Sanemi absolutely would, what with his intense hatred for the poor merman, but right now Genya had a lot more to think about than to ponder on what havoc Sanemi was capable of wrecking.

“What happened after that though?” Muichiro was the only one Genya had explicitly told about his not so secret infatuation with her, being his close friend - and also because the sly octopus and his twin had stalked him one day. “Are you still meeting up with her?”

Genya scowled at the ground. “No, Himejima-san has been told to not let her out of his sight now. Haven’t seen her since then.”

Are you okay? Genya silently asked. Did you get punished? Are you still sure you want me even with all this we have to avoid?

“Come on, surely there’s a way for you to, you know, court her without having her prick of a dad interfering. So what if you’re a shark? You’re not that scary.”

“I’ll show you scary when I pull off all your tentacles,” Genya growled half-heartedly.

“Shiver me timbers. Is there really nothing you can do to get his approval?”

“…maybe it’s for the best he did it.”

Maybe we’re not meant for each other, he realized.

Put aside their difference in status and species, shark mercreatures were known for their aggressiveness and hot tempers - no wonder her father didn’t trust him around someone as delicate and precious as her. Sometimes Genya himself was afraid of what he could accidentally do to you. Not only that, but as much as Genya hated to admit it, he was afraid he’d turn out like Kyogo - everyone knew about the Shinazugawa’s abusive patriarch. Maybe her father wasn’t afraid of him, but what he could do or become.

She was a blooming flower.

He was the hand that was going to snap her stem and break her apart.

He finally understood now.

“Hey, hey, why are you saying that? Both of you are so in love it actually made me want to throw up, you can’t give up just because some old racist bigot - Genya-kun! Where are you going? Are you even listening? Don’t give up on her, that’s just stupid.”

Genya turned away, blinking away whatever was in his eyes. Definitely not tears. “It’s for the best.”

***

“Hey! There you are!”

She looked up from the seaweed she was absently pulling out. “Oh, hi, Mitsuri-chan.”

The pink and green haired mermaid swam closer, looking as bubbly as ever. Even though she was a Hashira, it was still amazing how there wasn’t a visible sign of injury save for her bandaged head after her recent clash with a group humans some time ago.

“What are you doing in the Stone Estate?” She asked. Himejima-san had gone out for a while, so if Mitsuri was here to see him she was a little too late. “Oh, you can sit down.”

“Thank you! To answer your question I think I left something of mine here when I last visited. Iguro-san said he could get me a new one, but I’m really upset I lost it. Have you seen an emerald bracelet?”

She shook her head. “I’ll look for it, but I don’t think it’s here. I would’ve seen it.”

“Oh well, maybe it’s at Kocho’s,” Mitsuri hums. “I heard what happened the other day.”

There wasn’t really an use in pretending not to know what she was talking about. Pretty much all the Hashira did after the one-sided screaming match between Shinazugawa and Tomioka. She’s managed to hide away successfully from interacting with any of them other than Himejima-san so far though.

“Mmm.”

“Have you spoken to him since?”

She didn’t mind telling Mitsuri, at least not much. The Love Pillar was almost like an older sister to her. “No. My father won’t let me out of sight and if we don’t really purposely go find each other it’s really hard to run into one another.”

“He hasn’t bothered to find you?” Mitsuri frowned. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Maybe he’s busy,” she replied unconvincingly, but Mitsuri figured it out quickly.

“He’s avoiding you?”

She didn’t mean to burst into tears, but she did anyway, sobbing her broken heart out onto a comforting Mitsuri’s shoulder. So what if they came from different worlds? It shouldn’t matter. Right? Hadn’t he told her that all this time? Then why did he seem to care about that now?

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to! I think he’s just scared of your father - I know I am!” Mitsuri’s joke was enough to get a hiccupping laugh from her. “Why don’t you go find him tonight? He can’t avoid you forever. It’s all silly reasons to keep you apart! You both just have to work it through together! Lots of people support you - not just me and you remember that, alright? I’ll make Shinazugawa drag Genya there himself if I have to.”

Mitsuri’s pep talk caused her to brighten almost immediately. “You really think so?”

“I’d be such an idiot if I didn’t! Now, you better go find him by today!”

Her face cracked into a shy, elated smile for the first time in a while as she tackled the older mermaid in a fierce hug. “Thank you so much, Mitsuri-chan! I hope you and Iguro-san get together soon!”

“Eh? No, no, he doesn’t like me that way!!!”

***

“Genya! Don’t ignore me, I know you know I’m here.”

She swam closer to the Shinazugawa home impatiently, rapidly getting fed up with the way Genya kept turning away with a red face. Exasperated she grabbed his shoulders to turn him around and face her, using one hand to force his head to face her.

“Stop ignoring me already! I just want to talk,” she huffed.

“You really shouldn’t be here.”

“Since when have you ever said something like that?” The space between her brow creased. “Genya, what’s wrong? You don’t have to be bothered about what my father says. I really don’t care and neither should you!”

“…it’s better if we did.”

He said it aloud to tell her, but more than half of him still hopelessly prayed she wouldn’t catch his whisper. The hurt and shattered look on her face proved otherwise and another part of his heart died a little more.

“Why? After everything? Did I do something wrong?” He promised to never make her cry, didn’t he? He said he’d catch all her tears, didn’t he? Why was he making her cry right now?

Liar.

“You deserve someone so much better than me, alright? Someone your equal. Someone who won’t fxxking be a danger to you. I should’ve listened to your father. I told you I’d give you the best things in the world - if that’s not me so be it. I’m not supposed to be part of it.”

“What’s the point of the world if you’re not in it? You don’t have the right to decide what I deserve or not!”

“We’re over.”

She swam away too quickly, too caught up in her misery and grief, to see the tears as glossy as the pearls she had dumped into his hand forming in his eyes, but not quick enough for him to not see the half-formed words on her lips: I don’t care, I still love you, I need you.

He brushed his fingers over the bracelet. For the best. If she hated him but could move on, he’d done his job. Sharks were predators - she’d be prey if he hadn’t done this.

I’m not supposed to be part of your world, he repeated.

[thescullyphile]

Dana Scully, Handyman

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Mulder’s sink is broken, and he doesn’t know what to do. Maintenance was not a skill taught in the Vineyard. He places a bucket under his leaking pipes and goes to work with the optimistic hope that the bucket won’t overflow.

356, 357, 358...He mentally counts the drips throughout the day, something to distract him other than throwing pencils at the ceiling. Unlike chasing a religious sect of possible aliens, office work is boring. It’s even worse when Scully leaves, like she has now, to get her lunch. He is so engrossed that he misses Scully’s return, and her calling his name, until she waves her hand in front of him. “Sorry, sorry, what were you saying?”

Scully places a bottle of sweet tea in front of him. “The vending machine gave me two.” She explains. “What’re you thinking about? You were pretty far off there.”

Mulder cracks open the tea, nodding appreciatively in her direction. “Just wondering how many drops of water a two gallon bucket can hold.”

The quizzical look that he garners from Scully prompts him to give a better explanation.

“My kitchen sink’s leaking and I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“Oh.” Scully pauses to unwrap her salad. “Do you want me to look at it?”

Mulder finds himself nodding before he knows what is happening. His brain is functioning in a different realm than his mouth as they settle the details. Scully will come over to his apartment after work. She will go home first to change and pick up her tool box. (Mulder only has some duct tape and a hammer.) Those are the facts, but Mulder doesn’t fully finish processing them until he is checking out the ingredients for spaghetti from the grocer’s near his apartment. It occurs to him, as he swipes his card, that they never actually talked about dinner. But it’s too late now. He’s twenty dollars poorer, and finds he doesn’t mind it, if making Scully dinner is the reason. Why he’s happy about making dinner for his partner is a good question, but Mulder doesn’t have the time to put his psychology degree to use.

Laden with groceries, Mulder takes one step inside of his apartment and grimaces. This will not do. Though definitely not a bachelor pad, 42 Hegal Place has seen its better days, and was, Mulder realized, not fit for company. After about thirty minutes of opening windows and picking up socks, Mulder was satisfied that Scully, upon walking in, would not think she had been transported to a prehistoric cave dwelling.

A knock sounds from his front door as Mulder is chopping onions. His eyes are watering as he trips over himself to open the door, irrationally afraid that if he’s not fast enough she’ll just walk away and he’ll be left with a table for one and spaghetti for two. And a leaky sink.

“Hi, come on in.” His voice is a little breathless but Scully smiles anyways. She’s wearing worn blue jeans, cuffed so she won’t step on the hem, and a t-shirt. Work clothes. Real work clothes. It occurs to Mulder that this is the first time that he’s seen her bare arms since that night in Oregon a few months ago. She looks good.

Scully follows him into the kitchen, eyeing his preparations for dinner but saying nothing, which makes Mulder nervous. He opens the cabinet under the sink, motions to the leaking pipes halfheartedly. “I can only tell you that it’s leaking, I really don’t know much about plumbing.” The bucket, which had occupied his mind so stubbornly earlier that day, had been forgotten, and now stands half an inch from overflowing under his sink. It sloshes as he yanks it out by the handle. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna go empty this out. In the...bathroom.”

Mulder makes his escape, facepalms a little, because why is he being so weird? It’s just Scully.

Bucket empty, he returns to the kitchen to find Scully on her back, looking like she knows what she’s doing. So that makes one of them. Her knee jerks a little, surprised, he thinks, from the unexpected sensation of a drop of water falling onto her face. Mulder offers her a towel, and her voice sounds tinny from under the sink as she thanks him.

Left with nothing to do, Mulder stands there for a moment, but watching Scully fix the sink feels somewhat creepy, so he turns back to the stove and tries to remind himself how to cook pasta. Fifteen minutes later, she finishes working and gives him the all clear just in time to drain the spaghetti. He almost forgets a colander, and is ten seconds away from pouring pasta down the drain before common sense kicks in.

Scully explains what was wrong with the pipes like he knows enough to understand her, but Mulder doesn’t really know what she’s talking about. He can’t think about anything, too anxious that he’s going to miss his window to invite her to join him for dinner. Her sentence is barely ended before he’s blurting out “Will you stay to eat?

“I don’t want to impose, Mulder.”

“Please? It’s the least I can do, really.”

Scully smiles a bit. “Well, if you insist.”

--

Scully sets the table while Mulder serves, thinking fleetingly that he wished he had some parsley for a garnish before deciding it would be stupid. What kind of person just has parsley on hand?

They eat in silence for a moment, briefly awkward before Mulder clears his throat. “So, any fun story about how you became a one woman maintenance company?”

“Sort of.” Scully gives a fond, private little smile. “I was eight, and my dad had just come back home, and the house needed some work. I wanted to help so badly, but my dad only asked for Bill and Charlie. So I spent the week at the library, reading every manual and guide I could get my hands on- God only knows what the librarian thought- until I was certain that I knew more than the boys.” She chuckles at the memory, eyes twinkling as she looks at Mulder like they now have a shared secret.

“That weekend my dad needed help again and I just hung around until he finally gave me something to do. The boys weren’t much help after that...And the rest is history.” Mulder can imagine it, young Dana Katherine with steady hands, more patient than her brothers, as good a partner as she is now. “When my dad died,” Her voice wavers, the wound still fresh, “he left me the tool box. Bill was kind of bitter about that.”

It’s then that Mulder notices the ‘Scully’ neatly penciled in a hand he doesn’t recognize on the side of the box. He smiles, tries not to think about how Captain Scully raised a better son in his daughter than Mulder’s father raised in him.

The conversation flows more smoothly after they’ve broken the ice as friends, and Mulder has a better time than he’d dared to hope for. His apartment gets dark as night sets in, and Scully checks her utilitarian little watch hopefully, only to cock her head to the side in apology. “I should go home, it’s getting late.”

Unable to argue with the passing of time, Mulder sees her to the door, uncharacteristically bashful as she thanks him for dinner. “It’s nothing, I mean, you gave me a sweet tea today, so,” He trails off with a shrug, pleased that he’s earned a smile from her. She steps into the hallway. “Well, thank you anyways.”

They part hesitantly, like children. The door clicks shut.

[theconjugationofyeet]

Iron Dad AU Fic Recs

this is gonna be kinda long

Stark Industries: An American Workplace by fourdaysofrain

“No, I don’t--” The corner of Peter’s mouth twitches down and he looks at something behind the camera. “Mr. Stark doesn’t treat me any differently than the other employees. I don’t know why everyone says he does.” He tugs his sleeve down his wrist and looks to the side. “I’m the receptionist, so he has to talk to me more to like, plan his calendar and stuff.” --- The Office!AU (For the "AU: TV/Movie" square in Irondad Bingo

We’re Alright by writing-in-my-spare-time

When billionaire Tony Stark comes into the cafe late one night to get his caffeine hit, he finds barista Peter busy doing homework. The homework is quite advanced and right up Tony's alley, and the two hit it of immediately over their shared love of science. But when a masked gunman interrupts their bonding session, Tony knows he'll do anything to make sure Peter is alright.

Prompt: Modern Day/No Powers AU

Apartment 43B by @ironfamjam (my most favourite author ever)

After Peter gets stabbed clean through, he knows he can't let May see. His genius plan? Sneak into his best friend's apartment and clean himself up.

The problem?

It's the wrong apartment.

Enter Tony Stark, the ex-CEO that disappeared off the face of the earth three years ago, armed with his handy little first aid kit, custom made coffee machine, and witty anecdotes.

Somehow, the breaking in becomes a habit.

Irondad Bingo Prompt: Hurt/Comfort

Walking The Grey Line by ALittleBattyLady

When Ben Parker dies in his arms, a little piece of Peter dies too. At age 14 he's spiraling down into a hole of emptiness and just can't seem to move forward. Then he accidentally texts the wrong number. Tony thought he could handle whatever the world threw at him, but Steve's betrayal was something he hadn't expected. Months later he's still struggling to pick up the pieces. Then after a wicked bender, he wakes up with a text from a stranger.

They've built themselves a world that exists within nonsensical messages, where Peter finds a father figure he never expected and Tony finds himself worrying for a kid who shouldn't have to suffer so much. Still, the world still exists outside of their bubble of texts. The Avengers have been broken apart, the Accords are nowhere near perfect. Peter's uncle is dead and he's about to be thrown into a world of heroes.

What started as a chance meeting through a strayed text is about to turn into so much more.

AKA The Wrong Number Irondad Au no one asked for, but received

If You’re Going Through Hell, Keep On Going by @baloobird

In a world with no superheroes or powers, Tony Stark turns over a new leaf after his plight with Afghanistan. He goes to therapy and it changes his life, so much so that he decides to open up his own practice and help people that are like him.

His newest client: Eight-year-old Peter Parker

Little did he know that he would actually become attached to one of his patients

What Occurred In Raychester Castle? by @fictionart

Lord Anthony Stark is the Earl of Raychester castle. He inherited it from his father when he died, and soon he'll be married to the lovely Lady Virginia Potts. His life the perfect example of Victorian values, everything was going the way it should have.

Until one day, one of his lower servants worms his way into Tony's heart, and introduces him to a world Tony knew was there, but had never seen, and challenges the very way he viewed the world.

Yet, it doesn't feel like such a mistake.

---

Or a historical AU of Tony Stark and Peter Parker set in 1890s fictional Britain, where Tony is an Earl and Peter is a lowly servant.

Our Pages Flipped In Reverse by @ciaconnaa

Fifteen year old Peter Parker makes headlines when he's captured in a terrorist attack during a Sokovian science convention. Three months later, he's a household name when there's reports he busted out of a cave in some ridiculous iron suit.

With a miniaturized version of Tony Stark's infamous arc reactor in his chest.

Naturally, this means the two have to meet.

Intern Spider by @justme--emily

Penny Parker applied to the pilot Stark Industries internship program before she got her powers. But when Mr. Stark becomes her personal and superhero mentor, she'll have to get creative to keep the two identities separate...and secret.

ever in your favour by @iron-spider

Peter startles awake when someone shakes him.

“Sorry, honey,” May says. Peter blinks a couple times and she comes into focus, her hair pulled back from her face. She’s trying not to look a certain way, but he can see it in her eyes anyway. She clears her throat, keeps talking. “But it’s…” She glances away, wets her lips. “You gotta get ready.”

He remembers what day it is, and his heart beats like a drum at someone’s execution. But he tries to put on a mask, make it all seem normal. It’s everything but, despite the fact that he’s been dealing with reaping day since he was born, between himself, Ben and May. That fear that one of them could be taken away. Sent to surefire slaughter. But now Ben is gone, taken despite never having his name drawn from a bowl, and May’s finally safe. Now Peter’s name is in there alone. The last Parker sitting on the chopping block. He doesn’t know how to be. He doesn’t know what normal is, when the Hunger Games are looming on the horizon.

A Tale As Old As Time by @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars and @femalemarvelfanatic

A selfish man gets cursed into a metal suit, and only a little boy with a dark past and a heart of gold can break the curse. It’s a tale as old as time.

peter’s stars by @parkrstark and IronPengu

Steve and Peter lose their apartment and are kicked out on the streets. Steve has to juggle between jobs to earn whatever money he can, take care of his son while refusing to let him realize how much they're trouble in, and keep them warm and safe on the city streets in winter.

So, he really doesn't have time to date the billionaire that flirts with him everyday as he buys his cup of coffee. Even if he did, he can't let himself fall for the man. Because if he knew that he lived from a backpack and showered in a public bathroom there's no way he'd still want him...right?

Make Way For Tomorrow by @tonystarkstan

Before Ben died, Peter won a booth to present his project at the Stark Expo. But even on the run from the foster care system, he can't pass up the opportunity to attend and show the world his project. It all goes so well, until it doesn't. Trying to avoid being caught, Peter runs out on Tony just as the man is about to make him the offer of a lifetime.

Bold of him to assume Tony won't try to find him.

It All Comes Back To This by @tonystarkstan

After a car accident leaves him hanging somewhere between life and death, Peter must decide whether to stay or die. The answer isn't as easy as he thought it'd be. Luckily, he has his friends and the Avengers there to help him figure it out.

Have Patience, Quick Wit and a Gentle Heart by @ironfamjam

“I’m your fairy-” he scowled, looking pained, “you know what, no. I’m not going to say that. It’s ridiculous and not even accurate. I don’t know who invented those fairy tales you humans love so much, but they’re beyond terrible."

"Wait..." Peter tried to hide his grin, "Are you my fairy godmother?" he laughed, unable to stop no matter how hard he tried.

The man glowered. "Watch it kid. I could turn you into a frog instead."

Or

The Irondad Cinderella AU one person asked for

 More Ancient Than Magic  by ironfamjam

Life isn't exactly normal when your Head of House is also kinda your father-figure and his daughter is kinda sorta your little sister.

It's also not normal when the bad guys your real-life-war-hero-not-actually-dad defeated in The Great War threaten to return and you're still just trying to finish your Charms essay.

But Professor Stark asked him to protect Morgan. And that's what he's going to do.

Even if it breaks him.

The mini Hogwarts AU

The Case Of The Sinister Spider

In New York City, Peter Parker finds his entire life up-ended when he gets a phone call informing him of May Parker's tragic accident. But when new evidence comes to light proving foul play, no one in the NYPD will give Peter the time of day.

No one that is, except genius consulting detective on probation, Tony Stark. But Tony has his own demons to fight. Struggling to maintain his sobriety after a tragedy in London forced him overseas, Tony learns that what mends hearts might not be at the bottom of a bottle, but something like a string of unsolved murders and perhaps even love.

Or, the Elementary AU no one asked for

Only For A Little While by eccentric_artist_221b

Exploring the relationship between Tony Stark and Peter Parker if they had been passengers aboard the Titanic over 106 years ago…. an Irondad AU 

a galaxy far, far away by @madasthesea

a star wars au if tony and peter were master and padawan

___________________________________________________

add to this list if you know any more awesome fics with an au!

[whichstoodonrockyshores]

Chapter Eight

(gay gay)

Hamish Peachy was sitting in his boat, fishing pole in hand as he waited for any sign of a bite. He sighed, sitting back as he waited, he didn’t seem to be having any luck today. The fish weren’t biting… it wasn’t that bad though. He always had his husband to go back to if he gave up. Otis… he smiled just thinking about him.

They’d been through a lot together. From trying to keep their relationship a secret, to getting kicked out of town, to helping a small boy who ran up to their door when he was sad. He sat back a little more and closed his eyes for a moment. He felt himself start to drift off to sleep when…

“GET OUT OF HERE! I NEVER WANNA SEE YOU AGAIN!” Hamish’s father screamed. He immediately shot awake again and huffed. It had been thirty goddamn years, and he still heard that parting message whenever he closed his eyes. Why was it so hard to forget? Hamish knew damn well his father hated him. He didn’t need to be told again… so why was it so hard?

He finally got a bite, pulling him out of his thoughts, and he reeled the fish in with ease. He smiled, reeling in the sunfish. It wasn’t very big, but if they paired it with some crawfish and some tea, it would make a good dinner. Hamish rowed the boat back to shore, making sure to watch out for gators on his way back, and went inside the cabin.

“I’m home, honey,” Hamish said, holding the still moving fish by its tail as he entered the cabin. Otis was still there, just chopping up some vegetables. He put the fish in a bucket, wiped his hands off on his jeans, and hugged his husband from behind.

“Hi, Hamish,” Otis said, putting his knife down and turning to look at him. Hamish smiled and let go of him, kissing his cheek.

“It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you too. Now go sit down for a minute, I have dinner to make.” Otis said, pointing at the bed.

Hamish looked down for a moment, not moving otherwise. “But I can help…”

Otis just laughed at that, smiling for a moment. “Sweetheart, you can't cook for shit. Sorry, it’s just the truth.”

“I know, I know…” Hamish stood up and walked to the bed, sitting down and watching lovingly as his husband cooked dinner. For him, of all men. They’d been together for a long time, and it shocked him every time how caring Otis was. He was so gentle and slow when compared to Hamish’s constant energy. He just loved his husband so much…

“Hamish? Whatcha starin’ at? Is there a bug on me?” Otis asked, turning around and looking at himself.

“No- no you’re alright. I was just lookin’ at ya.” Hamish admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and giving him a small smile. Otis just sighed and smiled back, getting back to his cooking. They enjoyed a nice fish stew and ate together at their small dinner table.

Otis was clasping Hamish’s hand, as he ate his food slowly. He sighed, wondering where all the time had gone. They were both over fifty now, and the boy they had practically had to raise themselves was married and had an adopted child. Suddenly Otis wished they hadn’t wasted all those years hiding their love for each other and had just come here from the start.

Hamish didn’t hear the sigh, so he didn’t look up from his food. He looked happy still, eating and holding Otis’ hand. When the door knocked, he looked up and watched as Otis went to the door and opened it. Danny and another man were standing there, holding hands with bright smiles as they came inside.

“This is Ron,” Danny said, turning and smiling at the other man. This man, Ron, didn’t take another second to kiss him passionately. The kiss was short and sweet, and both of them looked happy when it was over. Hamish just laughed.

“Get a room!” He exclaimed, before standing up and shaking Ron’s hand. “I’m Hamish Peachy, a pleasure to meet ya. That’s my husband Otis back there. We’re Danny’s uncles.”

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Ron said, shaking his hand in return. Hamish noticed quickly that this man’s handshake wasn’t as firm as he’d like it to be. Hm.

-

It had only been a week since the wedding, and all Danny wanted to do was get out of this marriage. Sure, it wasn’t too bad. Lucy was gone most of the day, reading in the library with her friend Alice. And when she was home she didn’t even ask to do anything even remotely sexual with him, so this wasn’t too bad. But still, he hated the very idea of being married to a woman and being in the same bed as her…

Danny, on the other hand, spent most of his day at the train station, with Vinnie. They’d have long chats about whatever came to the kid's mind. He was so bright, and a little smartass sometimes. He swore like there was no tomorrow, to the point Danny didn’t even scold him anymore because it was no use. He didn’t even know some of those words, where had he learned them?

“So that, Uncle is why horseless carriages will never happen on a big scale,” Vinnie said, finishing a little speech he’d given.

“You gave some fair points. But here’s another topic, flight. What’d do you think about it.”

“It’ll never happen in anythin’ that’s not a balloon!” Vinnie insisted, starting on another speech about how everything would be too heavy to get off the ground and it’d never work. Danny wasn’t listening, really. He cared about what the kid had to say, but his mind was thinking about Ron. That’s why he spent so much time at the train station. He hoped that one of these days, he would get off of the train and they could walk into the sunset together, hand in hand.

That was wishful thinking. He was lucky if Ron came here at all, and even if he did he’d have to stay with his Uncle’s, sleeping on their couch. And he would even stay forever, a few months if he was lucky. He wished Ron could stay forever, but his family would never accept him. And as much as he loved Hamish and Otis, he didn’t want to turn out like them.

“Uncle? Hello, are you there?” Vinnie asked.

“Oh. I’m sorry kid, I was… thinkin’.”

“About Ron?”

“...how’d ya know?”

“You always have that sad look on your face when you think ‘bout that guy. I don’t know why he makes you so sad, you seem to love him a lot.”

“... he’s not the one makin’ me sad, son. It’s that I won’t ever get a real future with him. I’m stuck in a future I don’t wanna live in.” He admitted. He sighed, putting his head down. Vinnie was just a kid, he shouldn’t have to deal with Danny’s sadness. It wasn’t his fault that the world was out to get him and he’d never be truly happy. So stop dumping all your problems onto the kid for once.

“Sorry, Uncle. I can be bad, maybe Lucy’ll leave you then!” Vinnie exclaimed, but Danny shook his head.

“No. You don’t have to do a thing, alright? I’m an adult, I can deal with my issues myself, okay? Your only job is to practice your readin’ and behavin’, okay?”

“Alright. So, anyways, Pa- Uncle.”

“Hm? Pa…? Do you think of me as a father figure?”

“Yeah… I guess. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Vinnie started, but Danny just pulled the kid into a hug and smiled proudly.

“You can call me whatever you’d like, son. Pa, Uncle, whatever you’d like.” Danny said with a smile and a pat on the back and he separated the hug.

“Oh! Okay then, Pa! As I was tryin’ to say-“ Vinnie continued talking for most of the day, and train after train came through. Nothing. He wanted to give up, at this point. It was almost sundown, and he hadn’t made dinner of any kind. He should really go home, but he had a feeling and he just couldn’t ignore it. He stayed seated and everything around him went quiet for a second when finally the last train of the day rolled into the station.

The doors opened silently, and the only person to walk out was none other than Ron Soto. Danny swore he felt his heart leap in his chest when he saw him, and he just got up and staggered over to him with an awestruck look on his face. Ron was staring at him in the same way, and they looked at each other in silence for over a minute.

“...Danny?” Ron finally said, breaking the silence.

“Hi Ron,” Danny said as he smiled at his lover. He wanted to leap into his arms and kiss him like there was no tomorrow, and the only thing keeping him from doing that right this second was the fact that there were other people around.

“It’s so great to see you.” Ron smiled back, as the two of them happily walked back to the bench so they could talk about what to do next. He waved at Vinnie, who shyly waved back. “Hi, kid.”

“You’re Ron?”

“I am. It’s great to meet you, buddy.” Ron said with a yawn. “So… where am I gonna stay?”

“I know a place. It’s safe… you’ll be okay there. Let’s drop off Vinnie and then we can go there. Come on, son.” Danny explained, getting up and walking towards his house. Vinnie and Ron followed him, and it was completely silent. It was a bit awkward, as Danny brought Vinnie inside. “Lucy? Ya home?”

“I am! Are you making dinner?” She called back from the bedroom.

“No! I have to go back out, I’m sorry! I’ll make a good breakfast tomorrow.”

“Fine!”

Danny just left after that. He was still giddy from Ron being here, and all those thoughts about the future just fell out of him as he remembered that he was here. He didn’t even care how long it was for, he was here and that was all that mattered. He grabbed Ron’s hand and went running into the woods next to his house.

“Whoa- Danny, where are we going?” Ron asked, a bit confused and worried about why they were running. He just turned and smiled, which didn’t give Ron any type of answer.

Danny finally stopped at his Uncle’s house. Ron looked incredibly confused and was gripping his hand tight when Danny knocked on the door. He turned and looked down at him with his brightest smile.

“Don’t worry, hon.”

That’s when the door opened and Otis greeted them. Danny gripped his hand a bit tighter as they came inside. He turned towards Ron and introduced him, when finally, finally, he leaned down and kissed the man. He wrapped his arms around him, and Ron did the same but around his neck. When they finally separated, Hamish was laughing and teasing them a bit, but they didn’t care.

Once all of the formalities were finished, Ron and Danny just sat on the couch in each other’s arms. They were looking at each other, finding little things about the other that had changed in their time apart. Ron had new scars, and Danny’s eyes were sunken in, more than before. He looked tired. But more than anything, they were just happy to have each other again.

“Did you seriously wait there all day for me? Me? What’d you do that for?”

“I… I don’t know, I wanted to see ya and I just hoped ya would come. And ya did, so it worked out in the end.”

“I guess. You were just lucky though, okay? Don’t do stuff like that again! Live your life, don’t let me hold you back!” Ron said, giving him a small kiss and hugging him tightly. He wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“I won’t. I love ya, Ron. I missed you so bad…”

“I love you too.”

[clareguilty]

Little Bear Time

Charles Smith/Reader (Reader is neutral) Rating: Explicit | No Warnings Word Count: ~2200

Your back was beginning to ache already, despite it not even being noon yet. You grimaced as you grabbed another fish from the bucket and began cutting into it. It was bloody, smelly work, but it had to be done. Javier had left before sunrise and returned a few hours later with a few basses for the pot. He had grinned as he plopped the bucket at your feet. “You should have come with me, osito. They were biting like crazy!”

You had shaken your head. “I’m not much of a fisherman, and I’m even less of one in the morning.”

Javier had been able to help you for all of five minutes before Dutch called to him. He was all apologies as he left you to the work, off to see what van der Linde needed. You stared into the dead eyes of the fish you were filleting. He didn’t have any wisdom for you.

Up to your elbows in fish scales and bones, surrounded by knives, anyone should have known better than to give you trouble.

Micah Bell was not anyone.

“Hey there, Tiny!” he crowed, leaning on a barrel and grabbing an apple off the side of the wagon. The loud crunch of the fruit made your eye twitch.

“Bell. What can I do for you?” you sighed.

“Just came to see what’s cooking. Looks like you’re very busy.”

“Yes, Micah. I am busy.” You ripped a fillet clean from the skin and slammed it on the table. “Looks like you’ve got a lot of free time on your hands.” You traded your smaller knife for something larger, with a little more cleaving power.

“Aw naw,” Micah drawled.  “I’ve got a lot going on. Plans in the works for Dutch. You know how it is.” He took another bite of his apple, unbothered.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how it is.” You brought your cleaver down, chopping off the head of the bass you had just finished. Micah’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t move. You dumped all of your scraps into the bin.

“You know what I think?” Micah smoothed his mustache. You didn’t want to know what Micah thought, but you knew you were about to get an earful anyway. “I think you need to learn how to take it easy, Tiny. Even better, I think I could be just the one to show you a good time. Much better than that boulder you usually hang out with. What do you say?”

You grimaced. Micah was all but leering at you, eyebrow raised. “I have a name,” you said.

“You still need to grow into it,” Micah shrugged. “Quit being such a runt, and I’ll quit calling you Tiny. Now, what do you say? You ditch that dullard Smith and go out riding with me some time?”

“Who’s a dullard?” a low voice chimed in. Charles rounded the wagon, a sack of feed hoisted over his shoulder. Micah dropped his apple.

“Micah here was just offering to show me how to ‘take it easy,’” you raised your eyebrows at him.

Charles dropped the feed sack. You and Micah both jumped at the loud sound. “Is that so?” He brushed his hands off. “Does that sound like something you’re interested in, Little Bear?”

You gestured to the pile of fish meat in front of you. “As you can see, Charles, I’m a little busy.”

“Oh, so he can call you ‘little bear’ but I can’t call you ‘tiny’? Wha-” Micah was interrupted by Charles grabbing the front of his shirt with both hands, lifting him to his toes.

“Look, Bell,” Charles growled, leaning in close. “I think it would be best if you kept to yourself for a little while. Why don’t you go and ‘take it easy’ somewhere else?” He released Micah with a scoff, dropping him into the damp dirt. You watched him scurry away with his tail between his legs.

“Thank you,” you smiled softly at Charles. You wanted to kiss him, but you were covered in fish guts.

“He’s gonna get himself hurt.” Charles pried your fingers from the handle of the knife. You didn’t even notice how white your knuckles had been.

He nudged you a few steps aside with his hip, grabbing the next fish and making a quick cut. “Let me help.”

Between the two of you, you made quick work of the fish. Charles even showed you some new ways to salt them and rub them down with fat and spices. You knew they would smell delicious over the fire.

You washed up in the stream and, realizing you were out of view of the camp, decided to sit in the shade for just a little bit. Charles undid the first few buttons of his shirt and settled in next to you. You tried to keep your gaze from lingering on the few inches of exposed skin.

“Would you ever go with Micah?” Charles asked out of nowhere. He was watching you with furrowed brows.

“Go where?” you asked, caught off guard. “Actually, I wouldn’t go anywhere with him. He’s too much trouble no matter what it is.” You shook your head at the mere thought.

Charles hummed in consideration.

“Are you… jealous?” you asked, incredulous.

“Not particularly, no,” Charles answered. “I guess I’m just worried that I’m not enough for you. You could be with someone else.”

“Of course I could be with someone else,” you rolled your eyes, “but I don’t want to. You make me happy.” You scooted closer so you could lean into Charles’ side. You finally gave in and let your fingers trail over his bare chest. “I’ve got to say, watching you threaten Micah earlier, it did something to me. I like knowing that you’re looking out for me.”

“I was trying to save him from getting gutted by you. You looked close to stabbing him, and I don’t think Dutch would have liked that very much.” He ran a hand over your hair.

“He called you a dullard,” you frowned.

“I’ve been called worse,” Charles chuckled. “But I appreciate you standing up for me, Little Bear.”

"Want to go out tonight? Find a nice spot with a good view of the water?" You pressed in even closer, nuzzling your cheek to his shoulder. You could feel the low rumble in his chest as he considered the offer.

"Just the two of us?" he asked. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Just the two of us." You threw one of your legs over his thighs, pressing your lips to the stubble on his jaw.

The smell of spices drifted to where you were resting. This fish was nearly done cooking. "We should leave right after we eat," Charles squeezed your hips lightly.

You ate with Tilly and Javier, laughing along as Javier recounted a wild job he had been on with John. Charles pulled you into his lap once you cleared your plates, already excited about your evening together. Javier teased you when he found out you were leaving camp.

"What? You don't feel like getting it on right under everyone's noses? Take a page out of MacGuire's book! He certainly doesn't mind if everyone knows what he's up to."

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "Feeling left out, Escuella?"

Javier grinned, all teeth and charm. "Is that an invitation, osito?" He backed down as soon as the words had left his lips, and you could only imagine the look Charles must have given him. "Ay, brother, I was just teasing." He raised his hands in surrender.

You frowned at Charles, disapproval in your gaze. "Sorry, Javier. We had a bout with Micah earlier, and he's still cooling off."

Charles was still tense beneath you, so you pressed a kiss to his temple. "What do you say we head out?" you offered. He squeezed your hip and you knew he wanted nothing more.

You quickly gathered your things and led Peanut over to where Charles was brushing Taima. "Good to go," you kissed the corner of his mouth.

The two of you rode out in easy silence. You could see Charles thinking, but you knew he would talk if he wanted.

The spot you picked was up the hill from the lake shore, out of sight from the road. You pitched a tent and built a fire, setting out your bedrolls before collapsing into each other's embrace. The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky in brilliant oranges and reds and purples. The lake was inky black with fiery ripples dancing over its surface.

“I need you,” Charles whispered. He pressed you into the ground. His weight was a comfort, settling over you completely. Lips brushed over your skin. Your hands trailed over his chest, feeling the broadness of him.

“What do you need?” You raised a suggestive eyebrow.

“Anything you’ll give me.”

You smiled at the answer. He could be so silly sometimes.

He continued to take his fill of you, working you out of your clothes as he ground his hips to yours and marked the skin across your chest. It was breathtaking. Every touch lit over your skin. Raced through you. Charles hadn’t been able to have you like this in so long.

“Can you prep me?” you asked, a breathless whisper.

His eyes lit up, as though you were giving him the world. Large hands pressed your thighs apart. You bit back a moan when he pressed a finger into you, slowly, carefully. “You’re gorgeous.”

It was as gentle and meticulous as everything Charles did. You were desperate and whining long before he was done, ready to take him right then.

“Please, Charles,” you gasped, “I want to ride you.”

He stilled. “You can’t just say things like that.” His voice was low, nearly broken.

“I need it,” you rocked your hips, sinking farther on his fingers.

He pulled back as if he had been struck, pulling his shirt over his head and working at the fasten of his pants. You pushed yourself up to your elbows and then your knees and reached for Charles as he set his clothes aside. He pulled you into his arms, expertly managing to kiss you while also arranging the two of you perfectly. You straddled his hips.

“I don’t deserve you,” he stared up at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Silly bear,” you tickled him lightly. He retaliated, and the two of you fell into a fit of laughter and light fingers. Once you felt the mood had lightened enough you wrapped your fingers around Charles’ cock and kissed him deeply. A low moan escaped him.

Lifting your hips, you sank onto his cock. It was a stretch, and you didn’t get very far. “Ah,” you gasped. “You always feel so good.”

Charles gripped the quilt beneath you, gritting his teeth as he tried to keep still. You wiggled your hips a little, sinking down another half an inch. “So big…” you moaned and leaned forward to brace yourself better.

It was so much. Almost too much. The stretch, the fullness. Charles couldn’t keep from bucking just a little beneath you, and you cried out. He laced his fingers with yours, whispering apologies as you shook and whimpered.

Your hips met his. A few moments of stillness. Charles panted against your skin, you could feel his heart thudding. “Can I move?” He asked.

You nodded, trying to rock your own hips against him. He responded by bucking up into you, hands flying to your thighs to hold you tightly to him. Your nails raked over his chest, it was just too much. You and Charles hardly ever got the chance to have each other like this. But now, he was all yours, and you let yourself come apart on his cock.

Charles reached down to stroke you gently as he continued to rock his hips. You did your best to grind down against him, trying to bring him with you as you hurtled towards release. You wouldn't last long, not with his cock buried in you and his fingers stroking you slow and determined.

“Charles,” you panted, “I love you. I love you. I never want to be parted from you.” You hardly even realized what you were saying, just that he needed to know.

“I know,” he gasped. His fingers increased their pace and you came so hard and so suddenly that you nearly toppled over. Large hands steadied you as you shook, making a mess over Charles’s stomach and clenching around his cock.

“Oh, my love -- I’m close,” he groaned. “Can I?”

“Please,” you begged. You were already fucked out and nearing overstimulation, but you needed to feel Charles come.

He pulled you against his chest and carefully rolled so that you were on your back. A few powerful thrusts and you felt him finish inside you, a growl escaping his lips. You fell limp against the quilt, Charles nearly collapsing on top of you as well.

The sun had dipped below the mountain peaks, and the sky was now a wonderful indigo. Charles moved just enough to wipe you both clean before curling into your back, holding you close to him.

“You mean everything to me,” he said softly.

“You’re all I could ever want,” you whispered back, drifting off to the sound of the wind rushing over the meadows.

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x F!OC} Chapter 19

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: Our boy is in pain :(

.....

Chapter 19

I stayed the night. Dismissing anyone that was willing to take over for me. I had to stay, I felt guilty for not pushing Dutch to have a few men go out to find him. To come up with a plan, although, any plan Dutch made up would more than likely fail.

I must have dozed off at some point. Being woken up by Hosea with a gentle shake, my neck and arms aching from leaning on the table. 

“How’s he doing?” He handed me a steaming cup of coffee. Taking a sip I was thankful I could rule out Hosea for butchering a simple cup of coffee. 

“In and out. He’s burning up slightly.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he came down with a fever. We best keep a close eye if it gets worse,” He checked his bandages, spotting some blood beginning to seep through the white material.

“You go get some rest, I’ll watch over him.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Then do some work before Susan thinks you’re using him as an excuse to slack.” I huffed out a laugh at that, taking in his soft smile.

Might as well make help Pearson make a start on breakfast.

After people got themselves a helping and a few enquiring how Arthur was doing, in which I would tell them all it's bad but we’re hopeful, I refilled the bucket with fresh water from the lake and boiled it over the fire to make it safer. Picking up a clean rag and making my way back to Arthurs tent. 

Hosea was sat there reading. He soon left me to it with the promise to be back soon to change his dressings.

I wasted no time in getting him cleaned up, the slight sheen of sweat covered most of him and was beginning to dampen his hair. Dealing with a fever from a bad injury wasn’t something I haven’t dealt with before. I always remember how bad my father was when he was ill once. Helping mother as much as I could to monitor if it worsened or improved and to keep him cool and hydrated.

Fever is known to arise after a traumatic injury but it was more commonly known in response to an infection. I trust Grimshaw and Swanson did their best to clean his wound but the bruises that littered his torso could mean an internal bleed. Something that could be fatal.

I pressed the wet, cool cloth to his brow before moving on to clean him up. Listening to him begin to stir but not opening his eyes.

Trailing the cloth down his neck and chest, taking in the sight of him. Strong and built from a lifetime of hard labour. Multiple scars almost hidden by the purpling bruises. Moving to sit on the bedside I couldn’t help but trace my fingers delicately over the raised flesh. Wondering about the stories of how they came to be and if he would tell me those stories sometime.

Few times I dreamed I would get to see him in some sort of undress, mainly in the privacy of my own tent or when he was in my sights chopping wood or carrying large bales of hay to the horses. My mind wondering to thought impure in those times.

But not like this. 

His deep inhale brought me back to the present. Look up to see him awake and watching me. 

“Sorry...checking your bruises.”

“Sure.” He croaked

I passed him the water from the table, sitting back on the chair but still helping him take a few sips to soothe his throat.

“I must be the last person you wanted to wake up to.” 

“Yeah, would have preferred Sean or even Micah.” His lips turned up at the corners slightly. Good, humour is a positive sign. 

“How kind, Mr Morgan. But seriously, I can leave if you wish.”

He shifted to get more comfortable but soon gave up from the pain. Keeping his gaze on the canopy. “Nah, you’re the least annoying outta the lot of them…sometimes.”

I dipped my head to hide my smile from him, his words making my insides warm up which undoubtedly would show on my cheeks.

We were silent for a few moments. Arthurs ragged breaths and quiet hisses of pain being the only thing filling the air between us. 

“He mentioned you. Colm,”

Me? This grand plan to get one over on the Van Der Linde gang and he mentioned me? I stared at him waiting for him to continue.

“Said he knows you’re with us. Gonna get you an’ give you back for the money. That they have a special arrangement. I expected to die in that cellar, but - he said that - I had to get out. He’s not getting you….I won’t let it happen.”

I didn't know what to say, staring down at the cloth in my hands, fumbling with the frayed edges I could feel his eyes on me. I can’t leave camp again, hell, I’m still not safe being here. Whatever arraignment Colm made with Frank would mean the possibility of being taken if they find the camp and I step a bit too close to the perimeters. Something had to be done, I had to do something. The others could be at risk.

“Bella…” He exhaled in a whisper  

Shaking my head and waving my hand to dismiss the welling emotions I dropped the rag into the water. Telling him to drink some more whiskey and get more rest. I pulled one of the blankets over him to hopefully aid in his shivering. Breaking this fever and preventing any infection from taking hold was the most important thing to be focusing on right now.

He relaxed the best he could after gulping down a helping of whiskey, letting out a few choice curses from the pain.

I watched over him for the next few days, Arthur only waking when the cold sweats got too much, to eat or get his wound cleaned and bandages changed, which I began to help with. I’d get whatever rest I could whenever the likes of Hosea, Tilly, Mary-Beth, Lenny or Charles would step in to watch him for a few hours. 

It was these quiet moments during the night, helping him keep cool and stay warm and watching him wake up confused and in pain, no doubt reliving whatever they had done to him, that my mind backing whirling on what should be done. Hoping Frank would give up was positively mute. Asking a few men to go and kill him for me wouldn’t be right, it’s my burden to bear. Informing the law is a stupid idea on multiple levels.

After being rescued from the O’Driscolls I was sure I was going to plan on killing him myself. The rage of the moment clouding my judgement. Oh, how I wanted to travel to my former home and shoot him square between the eyes once he was in front of me. That only left one choice. Not wanting to put anyone in danger because of me and watching the man I care so deeply about suffering in front of me I knew I had to.

I had to return to Frank.

I have to walk back into that hell under the impression that I was abducted and escaped the notorious and brutal Van Der Linde gang to come back home to him.

Get the heat off these people and then, hopefully, I could plan on killing him.

@kashasenpai @fallout-cowgirl @averyspicybaguette

[happy-beeeps]

I Don’t Do Droids Pt 4

Pairing: translator!reader x Din Djarin

WC:2.5k woohoo! Longest part yet!

Warnings: cursing, brief mention of space slavery, incredibly quick speed throughs of episodes 1 and 2 on my part.

A/N: We’ve jumped ahead! I wanted to start focusing on their relationship, and getting Yodito in the mix. Also, I’m sorry if anyone is disappointed that I skipped over massive parts of each episode, I didn’t want this to just be a speed through of the episodes. I probably won’t even touch on much of episodes 5 and 6, this is just a good spot to start! As always, if there’s something you want to see, let me know!

* * *

In the months you’ve spent flying with Mando, you had to admit, this was one of the weirder jobs you’d accompanied him on. The lack of information, the remote location, and the clientele had made this a much more… complicated mission.

Still, you had to admit. That shiny beskar pauldron on his shoulder glinter with just the right amount of starlight, you could imagine the motivation for finishing the job. Letting a glance linger on him a moment more, you tried to think what he’d look like covered in the silverish metal.

“What are you staring at vaar’ika?”

“Thinking about what your bucket head is gonna look like with a matching tin suit.” You responded, earning a quiet scoff from your counterpart. He relaxed back in his seat for a moment, before switching the controls to autopilot. “Gonna check the weapons. Can you watch the ship?”

“What did you hire me for?”

“Speaking mostly, you already excel at that.” He placed a gentle touch to the top of your arm, letting it linger just a moment too long before tearing his glance away. Even under the shield of his visor, his eyes felt heavy on you. “Right then I’ll just… watch the ship.” You smiled, turning your attention to anything, the stars bleeding into one another out the window, the dust under the controls, literally anything but the giant man standing behind you. Once you heard the door behind him close, you released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. The months you two had spent close together, waiting for him on the ship while he wrestled in a new quarry, hunched over children's books you had saved on your datapad while you tried to teach him new languages, your feelings for the Mandalorian had absolutely flourished. You hated it. Each moment spent with him was suffocating, you felt butterflies in your belly when he touched you, leaving scorching marks where his fingers had been.

All this fanfare for a man you couldn’t even see.

The sound of quick beeps brought you back into your senses, as you prepared to switch the ship off of autopilot. “Mando!” you called, and were met with the sound of bustling and clambering as he stepped back into the cockpit. The bright light of Arvala-7 soon came into view as he pulled the ship out of hyperspace, and you looked around at the landscape as you circled around to land. “Looks like Tatooine.”

“Not every sand planet looks like Tatooine.”

“Yeah, well, this planet also has Jawas, so it’s basically Tatooine, alright bucket head?” “There are no Jawas here. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Who’s the linguistic genius of this operation?” You asked, earning nothing but an exasperated sigh from the man next to you as he set the ship down in a seemingly deserted sand patch. “I still think there’s Jawas here.”

* * *

“Just, stay here. Don’t start anything.”

“You act like I haven’t been with you for months now.”

“And you have the blaster I gave you?”

“Alright thanks dad, go do your thing now. I’m a functioning adult.” The ramp lowers as he prepares to step out into the blinding sunlight before he turns to face you. “I need to train you more on a blaster.” With his final remarks, you’re left on the ship, with a tiny blaster gifted to you by the weapons obsessed man before he steps out.

He makes it, by your guess, maybe a tenth of a click away from the ship before he gets absolutely rocked by two gigantic creatures. You laugh for a moment, before realizing how long it’s taking him to get up. “Oh shit,” you mumble, before keying in the code to lower the ramp to run out to him. Once you’re out there, and the gigantic creatures face you, you realize how stupid you look, tiny blaster pointing at these huge animals, shots reflecting off their thick hide. “I thought I told you to stay on the ship!”

“Oh yeah you have everything totally under control here!” You call, while one of the animals tears itself away from Mando to come charge at you. “Shit shit shit shit shit!” you call out, sending shots at them and resorting to a run. You’re saved by a large shot to the animals side, more following onto the remaining member of the herd. You glance over at Mando, pinned by one of the beasts, when a small Ugnaught approaches, riding his own creature. “Thank you.” Mando offers, and you’re always put off by how reserved he is with strangers. If he’s quiet with you, then he’s radio silent to everyone else.

“You’re a bounty hunter?” The man offers him.

“Yes.”

“And you?” He says, looking over at you, where you stand. The two of you must be a sight, a battered Mandalorian and a you, clad in your favorite skirt and shortened top from a market stall in Naboo, you had prepared yourself for a day of comfort, and secret blaster practice while he got the quarry. “I’m his translator.”

“Mmm,” he mumbles, looking pensive for a moment before giving a short and simple, “I will help you.” Mando looks over at you, and you glance up at the Ugnaught again before he speaks once more. “I have spoken.”

* * *

The Ugnaught’s camp is quaint, you happen to quite like it. Mando looked large and uncomfortable, nestled around smaller, homier things, but you happen to feel rather at ease. The man seems kind and blunt, two things you value, and it reminds of your home in Coruscant, or the small place you lived on Tatooine. Now, however, you are brought to the ever present mortality of your counterpart's profession, as you saddle up behind him on the bluurg he will ride to the location of the asset. You and the Ugnaught will return to his farm after dropping Mando off, you know better to mess with him and a quarry, and frankly, from the way it sounds, it would take a miracle for you to not die on the way. “Hey, Mando?” you start, as you stand next to him by the bluurg, “can you try not to die on this one?”

“Don’t I always?”

“Just… try double hard?” He looks down at you, holding your wrist for just a moment before softly speaking, “Is that the scarf I bought you on Devaron?” Before you could offer a reply, the Ugnaught returned. “We will leave when you’re ready. I have spoken.”

The ride to the asset’s location is long, and under different circumstances, probably enjoyable. Blurrgs were fun to ride, they way the bounded over the canyons made you feel free. The feeling of dropping off Mando at the encampment still clung to you like a wet rag. You couldn’t wait to be done with this bounty.

* * *

You appreciated that the Ugnaught (whose name you learned was Kuiil, when you realized that Mando had forgotten to ask) was kind enough to not only keep you at his camp for the night, but keep you busy. He was kind, talkative, and appreciated the help in small repairs. “You seem to have much knowledge of many things. Where are you from?”

“I’m from Naboo originally, I had a very expensive education.” “Naboo is wonderful, so I’ve heard. Was rule under the empire hard on your people?” The question struck you with some difficulty. The rule was by no means hard, you just happened to be unlucky. “Not entirely. I didn’t get to live there long. I enjoyed it very much though, I would love to go back.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I…  was studying to be a handmaiden for the queen. When I was twelve, the academy was attacked. We were picked off and sold into slavery. My owner fell into hardship, and freed all of us before fleeing the system. I was on Tatooine for many years before I was helped by a man. An old bounty hunter, who needed some assistance on a job. He gave me credits and contact, and dropped me off on Coruscant.” Kuiil hesitated for a moment before reaching over and placing a gentle hand on yours. “I was a slave for many years. I worked for my freedom, and now I live here in peace. I empathize with you. You would’ve made an excellent handmaiden, but I think you work much better with the Mandalorian.”

“Thank you. Although, I have to admit, he’s fun and all, but have you seen how fancy some of the dresses the Nabian royalty get to wear?” With that Kuiil let out a hearty laugh before patting your hand. “Get some rest. Your Mandalorian will return in the morning. He cares deeply for you.” He rose with this, and you stretched out on the bench in the hut. You shot him a confused look quickly, “What do you mean?” He smiled before walking towards the small cot in the far side of the room. “I have spoken.”

* * *

Kriff. He was going to kill you. Actually kill you, chop you into little pieces and then feed them to Kuiil’s blurggs. You knew it wasn’t your fault, Kuiil had assured you that Mando would’ve been in the hut with you too, but still.

Jawas had stripped the entirety of the Razor Crest. Every tiny piece. They even took the very thing you were looking for, the ceramic caff cup you got on Rodia. “Kuiil. He’s going to kill me.”

“He will not.” “He’s gonna drop me off at Mustafar and never look back.”

You spent the day assisting Kuiil with any repairs you could, and practicing your shooting at the abandoned part of his farm. Every passing minute made you more anxious, you needed him to be back soon, but you couldn’t imagine how he’d feel when he returned, and asked to go back to the ship.

It was nearly the following nightfall when he returned, and you could tell by the way he walked that he was not very pleased. You ran out of Kuiils house to meet him, “Mando!” you yelled, running towards him, he visibility softened at the sight of you, grabbing your arms before asking, “Are you ok? The Jawas took everything. Were you on the ship?”

“Mando I’m so, so sorry. I thought you said there weren’t any and I didn’t even think to guard it and-”

“We’ll deal with it somehow.” He responded, before turning his attention to the busted control pad on his arm, leaving you to soak in the adorable green bundle at his feet. “This is what everyone was searching for?” Kuiil asked, causing Mando to look up for just a moment.

“I believe it's a child.” he responded, leaving you to send them both a scoff. You scooped up the tiny baby in your arms before turning to them. “Ugh, men. Of course it’s a baby. It’s PRECIOUS.”

“Best to turn it in alive then.” Kuiil said, sending a sinking feeling into your gut. Turn it in. For some reason or another, this was a bounty, and it was Mando’s job to turn it in.

“I will take you to the Jawas to get your parts. I have spoken.”

* * *

You and Mando had returned to the ship, him absolutely caked in mud, and you still smirking over the memory of his butchered Jawa Trade Talk. The ride back to Kuiil’s was quiet, him brooding over the baby in its floating bassinet. He had mentioned something amazing had happened, but said nothing more. “You’re lucky they didn’t try and use Jawaese, you can barely get trade talk down.” You had teased, trying to lighten his mood. After a few moments of silence he retorted, “Says more about my teacher than me.” With a gentle nudge to your side.

Now, you were practically knee deep in parts, as you worked with him to repair the ship after he had bargained with the Jawas, and retrieved their weird fuzzy egg. The baby was beside him, enclosed in the bassinet, while he worked on finishing up some of the interior wiring in the hull. Kuiil had turned in for the night, leaving the two of you to work until you were exhausted.

There was something about seeing him like this, with the baby floating behind him, tools slinging off of his hip as he repaired the ship… he’s almost paternal. Your heart flies up to your chest as you watch him work in the soft work light you had loaned from Kuiil, and the warm fire that barely dripped in from outside the camp. In spite of yourself, you let yourself stare a little more, wondering if he’s handsome underneath that helmet. What color his eyes are. You’re almost sure they’re brown, the inviting and comforting kind. You can’t shake it, it’s the same desire you felt on Devaron. The woes of falling for a man you’ll never see. Your moment of solitude is up when he turns to face you, letting a breathy laugh escape from under his helmet-- so slight the modulator almost lets it by. “What are you staring at?” Maybe it’s the light, or maybe it was the chaos of these past few days, but you let yourself say it. “You.” He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to you, leathered hand snaking around your wrist. “Would you believe it if I said I was staring at you too?” You turned away from him, a deep blush spreading across your face as you tried to look anywhere but at him. “Your dumb visor blocks me out, how am I supposed to know if you’re lying or not?”

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.” Your red faded into a pink as his hand snaked up to rest on your cheek, you leaned into it and felt him step even closer. “Can I trust you?” he asked, his voice soft and quiet. He leaned over and tapped out the work light next to you, plunging the hull of the ship into pitch black. “You can trust me.” You whispered, and his thumb traced your cheek for just a moment before he responded. “Good. Close your eyes” In seconds, you heard the sound of his helmet coming off, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing them closed with all your might before you felt his lips on yours. You sighed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers along the edges of his hair. It felt longer than you expected, but not unkempt. His breath tasted like caff, and something else you couldn’t quite place, and you could melt into how soft his lips were. This was perfect, this was bliss. You could die right here and now so help you gods. He pulled away far too soon, and you soon heard the hiss of the helmet reconnecting. “You can open your eyes now,” he murmured, and he was once again illuminated by the soft work lamp. “You have no idea how long I wanted to do that,” he spoke, and you stepped towards him, placing his hand in yours, “Well, maybe I’ll just have to stare at you more often.”

[katefiction]

Revolution, Part 4

by katefiction (Maria) / 2014

Driving on the deserted out skirts of Redfern had become our new favourite pastime. Back home, we loved to go for walks together. William would often take George on an early morning walk while Kensington Palace gardens were still closed to the public, and occasionally I would join them. It was the only sense of liberty we had back in London – a liberty that was confined to the gates of the palace grounds.

Iowa couldn’t be more different. The sun sizzled on our skin and stabbed into our eyes, and while we loved this weather, we couldn’t walk for long without George needing shade and water. So going for drives became our thing. You only had to drive ten minutes from Redfern to feel like you’d escaped for the day.

On that January day, we had needed somewhere to escape to. The news a few weeks earlier that the queen may be returning to the UK had tested us. There was the initial relief that she was safe and well, and the gladness that the Republic was losing their hold. Then came the worry that a renunciation of the Revolution would put us in danger from the people that wanted William out of the country so badly. Lastly came the realisation that we had to make a decision about what we wanted to do.

William had continued to work hard on the farm, but there were times when he became distracted and injured himself or wasted the milk by dropping it all over the ground after he’d spent an hour milking the cows. On that day, he’d accidently tripped over a bucket and kicked it so hard in frustration that it almost smashed Bette’s window. It was her who ordered him to ‘take a long break’.

So there we were, driving with our windows down, George in his new car seat at the back jabbering away to Ronald who was tucked safely under his arm.

William parked up at Rock Creek, a nature park formed of high and varied rocks and trees, and centred by a large pool of water. Bette had suggested it to us as somewhere relaxing to visit, it was the kind of place that you could hear the insects chirping in the grass.

We found ourselves a nice deserted spot right by the creek, and sat down on a large set of rocks. William picked up some small pebbles on the ground.

‘Here George, let’s try and skim them’ he threw a pebble in and it managed a small skim before it slid into the water.

He handed George one who threw it into the water with a plop. He laughed hysterically at the water splashing up from the surface and William gave him another one. He repeated the manoeuvre and we laughed with him as we watched his joy at throwing the stones in.

William took him closer to the water, crouching down to hold his body close to him.

‘We’re running out of pebbles here!’ he said as I watched from my seat. George flung his free arm about, impatient for another stone, his other holding on to Ronald.

‘Hold on, hold on’ William said, scrambling around to find one big enough.

But it was too late, because George had lost his sense of co-ordination and in his eagerness to throw another pebble in, hurled Ronald into the water instead.

The three of us paused in silence for a moment, before the piercing sound of George’s cry broke into it. I leapt up and rushed over to him.

‘It’s ok baby, it’s ok’ I said, stoking his face, while Will cuddled him close.

Ronald was bobbing up and down in the water and drifting further from us. William jumped into action and found a stick from the side of the creek. He knelt onto the bank and reached as far as he could, but to no avail.

George’s face was red from the wailing for Ronald, a look of despair covering it.

William looked over to him, ‘right’ he said, rolling up his jeans.

‘You’re not?…’ I said.

‘I am’ he replied, taking off his boots and socks. He stepped into the murky water with determination.

‘Fu-libberty jibbet!’ he shouted, ‘this is colder than it looks’

I giggled, and William’s reaction stopped George from crying too. ‘Be careful, you don’t know how deep it is’

He continued to walk and I threw him the long stick to use so he could feel how deep the water was getting. By the time he’d reached Ronald, he was chest deep in the green water.

‘Victory!’ he shouted, holding Ronald up like a trophy at George.

I held George’s arms up and waved them around as if we were greeting him from years away at war.

William emerged from the bank with the water dragging down his clothes. A flutter jumped in my stomach at the sight of him dripping wet, heroically carrying Ronald.

George lifted up his arms to try and grab him, ‘Ro Ro Ro Ro’

‘He’s dirty pumpkin, we’ll give him a good wash when we get home ok?’ I said, stroking his hair.

But George was just like his father, stubborn to the end, ‘Ro Ro Ro’ he screamed.

William lifted him off the ground and spun him around, throwing Ronald to me as he did so. He was an expert at distracting George. He pointed out the trees and the bugs and made them sound like the most exciting thing he’d ever seen. When George wriggled, he took off his shoes and they paddled together in the shallow water.

George jumped up and down in the water, delighted by the trickles between his toes.

‘Come on mummy’ William beckoned.

I took my shoes off and joined them, ‘well done’ I said and kissed William on the lips, careful not to let him get my clothes wet too.

He smiled coyly at me and I blushed.

‘Lupo would love this’ I said looking up at the canopy of trees that covered us.

‘He would’ William said with a slight sadness. ‘You miss him, don’t you?’

I nodded, ‘like crazy’.

‘And everything else?’ William probed as he helped George make a little moat in the mud.

‘I miss my family, of course, and our home…’ I stopped, realising that he was trying to make our decision easy. ‘What are we gonna do Will?’

He paused, ‘What do you want to do?’

‘Don’t put this on me, please’ I begged.

‘I’m not, I just…’ he sighed, ‘all I care about is making the two of you happy, I don’t want you to regret anything’

‘We have to make this decision together’ I said.

‘I know, but I still need to know your opinion’ he smirked.

‘I miss home’ I began. ‘But I don’t know how I would feel about going back now’

I clenched my hands together, thinking about how our carefree life would be over if we went back.

‘So you’d like to stay?’ he asked.

‘Maybe’ I said non-committedly. ‘You like it here too though?’

He looked up at me, ‘of course, it’s everything we ever wanted. You know, six months ago, I didn’t think I’d need to ask you if you wanted to go home’ he laughed.

‘You can be quite persuasive when you want to be’ I said, kicking some water in his direction before changing tact. ‘What if your grandmother needs you to come home? And your father?’

William exhaled, ‘Maybe I’ll have to tell them that I can’t’

I watched him and George play together, and wondered if he meant it. William had always wanted this freedom and now that he had it, it was everything he expected. Was it really going to be so easy to let his past go?

*

We drove back that afternoon with a renewed sense of energy. William’s mood had improved and we had accepted the fact that there was nothing we could do until something happened back in London.

We cruised back into Redfern at a leisurely pace. Halfway home, I noticed his brow crease and his eyes dart back and forth from the rear view mirror.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘There’s a car behind us…don’t turn around’ he said as I turned my head. ‘It’s been following us all the way from the creek’

I stretched to look through the mirror to see a dark blue saloon car behind us. ‘Are you sure you’re not being paranoid? This is the main road back into town’

‘Let’s see what happens if I turn off the main road’ he said, keeping one eye on the mirror.

At the next turning we found, William drove into it without indicating or slowing down as he usually would. A few moments later, we saw the car turn after us.

‘Shit’ he whispered.

‘Can we just go back to the farm, it’s probably nothing’ I said anxiously.

William slowed when we got to a lay by and turned the car around to get back onto the main road. This time the saloon didn’t follow, but carried on down the small lane.

‘See I told you’ I said with mock confidence.

William, however, didn’t say another word until we got home.

*

The dark drew in quickly that evening, the worry over the car hung over us like a cloud. William was quiet, but affectionate, occasionally giving my waist a squeeze as he brushed past me in Bette’s kitchen. We were over there for dinner, which had become a regular occurrence.  William and I would cook for all of us while Bette entertained George.

The two of them went outside to pick some tomatoes for the dinner, leaving William and I alone.

‘Talk to me, what’s going through your head?’ I said, once Bette and George were outside.

William sighed, ‘I don’t know what to think’

‘Yes you do – you just don’t want to tell me’ I said bluntly, as I flipped a steak at the stove.

He looked up, pausing from chopping up the vegetables to see how annoyed my expression was.

‘You’re acting like you did the night you left. You don’t have to hide things from me’ I continued.

‘I’m not…’ he mumbled.

I returned his gaze, giving him a look that said I wasn’t prepared to be kept in the dark again.

‘Why now?’ he said, giving in. ‘Why are we being followed now?’

‘What do you mean?’ I said, relieved that he was letting me in.

He placed the knife down and leant against the counter. ‘We’ve been here for months, and it’s been weeks since the news about Granny going back to London. Something serious must be happening back home for them to be watching us’

I ran my fingers over the back of his neck to relax him, ‘we don’t know if that car was even following us Will’

‘You really think that was a coincidence?’ he asked.

I thought for a second before I spoke, ‘I think that if we want any kind of life here, we can’t be paranoid all the time, what kind of life is that going to be for George?’

He looked at me guiltily and then said, ‘I won’t put him in danger’

I put down the steak flipper and put my arms around his waist, ‘we’ll try and get the radio on tonight, see what’s happening’ I said more calmly than I felt.

He nodded and kissed the top of my head.

The door flung open and Bette and George tottered in, George carrying a basket of tomatoes, ‘it’s getting windy out there!’ Bette remarked.

William and I got back to the food, not wanting to waste any time so we could listen the radio as soon as possible.

‘What’s up with you two?’ Bette said, pushing wisps of hair from her face that had been flustered by the wind.

‘Just hungry!’ William said cheerily. ‘Thant’s all!’

After dinner, we told Bette that we would be happy to do the washing up. She thanked us for being ‘good kids’ and left us for an early night. As soon as she was out of ear shot, William clicked on the radio and turned it to the station we’d found a few weeks ago. We’d done this a few times since, when Bette was out of the house, but were yet to hear anything new.

After half an hour of slow dish washing, the news bulletin jingle began, and our ears pricked up.

‘News from Britain tonight, the Conservative and Labour Parties have formed an emergency coalition government this morning. After weeks of dissent against the Green Party, the Prime Minister stepped down, leaving his Party to flounder. Now comes news that the Queen is back in the country. Unconfirmed sources say she’s been holding emergency meetings at Windsor Castle to determine what action to take amid the rapid decline of the Green Party and the Republic. The Republic are still in control of Buckingham Palace, but large protests have been taking place in the last two days from members of the public. We spoke to a political reporter at the scene earlier’

Over the crackle of the radio, an English voice began to speak with the jeers of what sounded like hundreds of people in the background.

‘We’re here outside Buckingham Palace, where people continue to stream into this landmark to protest against the Republic. As you can hear, the atmosphere is tense to say the least. The Green Party have insisted that the Republic have had no influence on their politics, yet the country has aimed its anger towards the group who spearheaded the Revolution last summer. While never officially dissolved by law, there is widespread support for the return of the Monarchy; however some still insist that they have no place in 21st Century Britain’

The voice switched back to the Iowan radio DJ, ‘and now for a weather warning, torrential rain and winds…’

William switched the radio off with a heavy click. We looked at each other, and I imagined my expression was the same as his. The look that said the storm was rolling in.

*

Once I had bathed George, William took over and sat with him on the couch as he drank his bottle of milk. I leant against our bedroom door frame and observed him entertaining George with his exaggerated hand movements and voices.

‘ “Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman,” cried out the ogre; “I smell him, wife, I smell him” ’ he said, growling at George, then changed his voice to a high pitched cackle.  ‘ “Do you, my dearie?” says the ogre’s wife. “Then if it’s that little rogue that stole your gold and the hen that laid the golden eggs he’s sure to have got into the oven.” ‘

George chuckled and so did I.

‘Right that’s quite enough excitement for one night Georgie’. He closed the book that was on his lap, scooped him up over his shoulder and carried him into the bedroom. ‘We’ll see what happens to Jack tomorrow’

‘You make quite the scary giant’ I said when he’d joined me on the couch a few minutes later. I stroked my hands over his back and leant against his shoulder. ‘Are you ok?’

‘I’m fine, just tired’ he said, slipping his hand between my knees. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow’

‘The last time you said that, you weren’t there in the morning’ I teased, poking him in the ribs.

‘I’m not gonna leave you again’ he said sternly.

There were times I had to push William to open up and talk to me because I knew he needed to. Then there were times that I needed to give him time to untangle his own thoughts before he could relay them to me. This was one of the times where words weren’t appropriate.

I curled closer to him and kissed along his jawline and felt his body relax immediately. He leant back in the seat and closed his eyes as I moved my hand under his shirt and stroked his torso which had become defined and hard since he’d been working on the farm. I swiftly positioned myself on his lap, and although his eyes were still shut, he knew my body well enough to hitch up my skirt and tug down my underwear in one seamless movement.

We were only kissing for a few minutes before I unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zip to release him. This wasn’t a time for whispering sweet nothings; it was a time to give him the release he needed. As I slid on top of him he clutched my behind and dug his face deep into my neck, letting out low, heavy murmurs of pleasure.  

William held onto my hips as I grinded into him, willing him to forget his worries for just a moment. And forget them he did because his final murmur became so loud that when he was ready, I pushed his head into my chest to soften the noise.

He tilted his head back when it was over, and it was only after he’d regained his senses that he pulled me close and whispered a grateful ‘thank you’ into my hair.

*

Encouraged by the radio report, we decided that the next day, we would try and find the crow man again to use his mobile phone. I hadn’t told William out loud that what we’d heard on the radio had bought me round to his way of thinking. I now agreed that the blue saloon probably was following us, but couldn’t admit it to him. I desperately wanted to be right about him being paranoid so had dug my heels in and insisted it was a coincidence. But deep down, I knew there was more to it, and I knew the reason I had denied it was because I didn’t want anything to ruin the life we’d created for ourselves.

Late afternoon on the Monday, I walked into town alone to try and find him. It was another hot, cloudless day, so William had stayed at home with George. Crow man was a creature of habit and we often saw him digging around in the old antique shop.

As I rounded the corner of the main street, my hair in a messy pony tail and dressed in a second hand t-shirt and denim shorts, I savoured the moment. I had always thought of America as the king of the media-driven world; a commercialised and plastic place that would never be somewhere I’d want to live. Four years before, we had visited Los Angeles and saw for ourselves the frenzy that we caused.

Now everything had changed. America had provided us with the safe haven we needed and we’d grown to love it as home. We loved the way we could walk in public looking a mess and no one cared. We loved that George could run free and grow up with a life without cameras in his face. Most of all, we loved being Bill, Libby and Alexander, an anonymous generic family, just like everyone else.

I turned around to enjoy the rustic main street of Redfern, wondering if we’d be able to stay here much longer. As I looked into the rapidly setting sun, a shift of darkness caught my attention next to the butchers. In a second it was gone, but as I turned around once more, I saw it again.

In the doorway of the butchers stood a tall figure, dressed all in black. I turned forward again, pretending I hadn’t seen him. No one in Redfern would wear dark trousers, heavy boots and a thick jacket. My heart rate quickened as I passed Mary’s and neared the antique shop. I peered through the glass of the shop, hoping to see the old crow, but all I saw were full shelves of antiques.

I suddenly became aware of being the only person on the street. I stayed still at the window for a moment longer and squinted. In the reflection of the glass, I could see the man. He’d followed me down the street and was now on the other side of the road, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking into the thrift store. Now I had a better look of him, I noticed his short, almost shaved blond buzz cut and stony features.

The sweat on my hands started to seep out and I wiped them hastily on my shorts. Moving cautiously, I turned back the way I’d come, willing myself not to run. From the corner of my eye, I noticed him sauntering behind me.

After a few steps, I looked up, and like a guardian angel, saw the sign for Mary’s Inn above my head. Without hesitation, I slipped through the wooden door and slammed it shut behind me. I leant against it, my chest heaving.

‘Don’t you look spooked?’ a voice said from the stairs.

‘Mary, hi’ I said breathily.

She appeared from the staircase, with an expression of pleasure at seeing me, which quickly turned to concern.

‘You ok Libby?’ she said.

I nodded and gulped down my panic. ‘Yeah, I just, there’s just…’

I couldn’t tell her, of course I couldn’t. What would I say? There’s a strange man following me, call the police? I turned to look through the window that was so dirty; it barely let in any light. I couldn’t see the man.

‘Are you hiding from someone?’ Mary said, pressing me.

‘No’ I replied too quickly. I realised I needed a reason as to why I was in here. ‘Um, I was wondering if you knew how I could find someone’

‘Sure’, concern was still in her voice.

I licked my lips which felt completely dry and pulled myself away from the door. ‘I don’t know his name; he likes to collect things though’

Mary looked puzzled and I suddenly felt frustrated. Having access to the phone was more important now than ever.

‘He’s short and hasn’t got many teeth’ I said, waving my hands around ‘…he likes shiny things and is always in the antiques shop’. I cursed myself for never asking him his name.

‘Ohhhh’ Mary said and I breathed a sigh of relief, ‘Jim? Yeh he lives a couple rows behind us. You’ll know his place, it’s the one with all the crap in the front yard’

I thanked her and made to leave.

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’ she said before I could.

‘Yep’ I said chirpily as I approached the door, ‘I’ll see you soon ok?’

Her voice was anxious as the word escaped her lips, ‘Kate?’

I froze on the spot.

She knew.

My mouth dried up again as my blood ran cold. ‘How did you��?’ I said, turning to face her.

‘This may be a small town, but you guys are pretty well known’ she said, offering a smile. ‘Plus that rock on your hand didn’t help’

I looked down at my left hand, which just had my wedding and eternity ring on it. I’d taken my engagement ring off after William had suggested that it was a giveaway of who we were. 

‘You’ve known all along?’ I whispered.

Mary shrugged, ‘yeah’

I backed away, feeling the panic slowly rising. Mary reached out, seeing that I desperately wanted to leave.

‘You don’t have to worry’ she said, her face soft with kindness, ‘I haven’t told anyone, I swear!’

I shook my head, my instincts failing me. I didn’t know whether to believe a word she was saying. What if she was holding me in here while the man waited for me outside? What if they took me the way they had taken William?

I suddenly felt the gravity of what had happened to him on my shoulders. How could I have been so cold and uncaring when we first found him? If he felt even half the terror that I felt now, I had no right to have punished him the way I did.

‘Please just let me go’ I said shakily.

She looked dumbfounded for a moment, ‘of course you can go’

‘Will he be waiting for me outside?’ my voice was more confident now.

‘What? You mean that guy that’s outside? I thought they were your bodyguards Kate? They’ve been here for weeks now’

They. That meant there were more of them lurking in the shadows.

‘It doesn’t matter’ I said suddenly.

Mary’s expression turned to one of pure bewilderment; the sort of confusion that was hard to fake. I turned again to leave.

‘Wait! Is everything ok? I saw on the news what’s been happening in London. Can I do something to help you guys?’

I considered for a second that I could ask to use her phone, rather than give every last thing we owned to the crow man. But it was too much of a risk. William and I had only used the crow man’s phone, thinking it was safe, but at that moment, nothing seemed secure anymore. Should we have used a different phone every time?

‘No…no thank you’

‘Wait – here’. Mary grabbed a pen from the bar and scribbled something down on a newspaper that was lying there. She tore the scrap off and handed it to me. ‘I know you don’t trust me, I can see it in your eyes, but if you need anything, this is my number’

I took the torn piece of paper and pushed it into my back pocket. Despite my reservations, I couldn’t help but thank her again.

She nodded and said ‘Sweetie, if I was gonna call the local paper about you, I would’ve done it by now. Good luck’.

It was her way of saying good bye.  

I left Mary’s just as the sun had begun to set. Looking furtively left and right, I was relieved yet anxious not to see the man anywhere. I wanted to get home before it got dark, so power walked the short distance to Jim’s house, listening out for any noise behind me.

Mary was right about how easy it would be to find his home. The small square patch of grass in front of the house was covered in rusting garden furniture, Greek style statues and other little ornaments. I weaved through it all and gave the chipping door a quick rap.

It opened a few inches and I saw the crow man’s nose come into view.

‘Hi Jim! Just me!’ I tried to sound normal, using his name for the first time in six months.

‘Oh hey there’, he said widening the door. The hallway behind him was just as I’d imagined; cluttered floor to ceiling with piles of what could either be junk or antiques.

I cut to the chase, ‘I was hoping to use the phone again’

‘No problem ma’am’ he limped off and returned again with it in his hand.

I pulled out a large wad of dollars from my pocket. He eyed the money and scrunched up his nose. For such an inoffensive looking man, he drove a hard bargain. I noticed his eyes were fixed on my left hand; I didn’t need to read his mind.

‘Pretty ring’ he crowed, and I thanked the heavens that I wasn’t wearing my engagement ring. I looked down at the eternity ring William had given me. A simple band that was circled with diamonds. I was astonished when William presented me with it, and chided him for spoiling me. He, in return, grinned widely because he knew how touched I was.

I pushed my sentimentality away, ‘if you want this, then I think I should be able to keep the phone’

He screwed up his nose again.

‘You know it’s fair’ I said, the fire retuning to my belly.

‘Oh alright’ he said, displeased, and handed me the phone. I slipped off the ring, clutching it in my fist for a moment before dropping it into his palm.

*

My journey back to the farm was taken at a run once I got onto Bette’s land. The wind had started to blow, sending the dust into my eyes. Above me, dark clouds loomed.

I burst through the door of the outhouse, out of breath and sweating head to toe.

William was playing with George on the floor, chasing after him on his hands and knees. ‘There you are! What took you so long?’

He took a proper look at me, and got off the floor, his face grave, ‘what’s happened?’

I relayed the whole story from start to finish and watched as he squeezed the back of the couch to control his anger, or maybe it was fear.

‘We need to get out of here, first thing tomorrow’, he said, and I could see the cogs turning in his mind.

‘What if they come for us tonight?’ I said, panicked.

‘They know you’ve seen them; they’ll be expecting us to leave straight away. Call your parents, and tell them we’re moving on’

George began pulling at my leg and I picked him up and pressed my lips against his head before taking out the phone and switching it on.

The battery sign flashed aggressively at me. It was on its very last legs. ‘I think there’s only enough battery left for one call’

‘So?’ he said, pacing the room.

‘So, don’t you want to call your family too?’

He walked up to me and cupped his hands around my face, ‘it’s ok baby, just call them’

I pressed down the off switch, ‘I’ll do it later tonight’.

As much as I wanted to, I had to give William the option of contacting his family instead. They were, after all, the ones in danger. My mother had re-assured us that she’d passed on all of our messages to Harry, but William hadn’t spoken to a single member of his family since we got here. He’d always put my needs before his.

‘Will’ I said nervously. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’

His brow furrowed. ‘I thought we’d decided not to go back, have you changed your mind?’ I couldn’t tell whether it was curiosity or hope in his voice that I heard.

‘No’ I said honestly, shifting George to my other hip. ‘But this needs to be a joint decision. I know you want to make me happy, but if you want to go home…’

‘You love it here. We love it here’ he said, touching Geroge’s arm. ‘And wherever we go next, we’ll love too – once we’re settled’

‘Yes but your family, they need you -‘

‘Shh’, he placed his fingertips over my mouth to reassure me, but I could saw a flicker of pain pass over his eyes. ‘They’ll be ok, we’ll go back one day – to visit – this is our opportunity, we’d be stupid not to take it’

I nodded. I’d only thought briefly about where we’d go and what our lives would turn into next. There were a million questions to consider. How would we make money when we left the farm? How would George get into a school? What would happen if we ever needed medical help? It’s not like we were there legally.

But these weren’t the questions that were bothering me; those would be sorted out eventually. Deep down, all William wanted was freedom for the three of us. Neither of us had considered it would come at such a high cost. The battle in my mind swarmed around my head. William was willing to give up his family and his duty for us, yet if it wasn’t for George and me, I knew he’d be on the next plane home.

We ate dinner in silence as the wind and incoming rain lashed against the windows. At intervals, both of us snapped our heads around when the gusts created particularly loud bangs against the house. It would have been funny in any other situation; the way we looked up in unison like meerkats every few minutes. Dread filled our little home, but this time, mercifully, William had chosen not to hide it from me.

Later that night he blustered around the house collecting everything we might need on the road the next day. I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping, so told him to leave the packing to me.

‘We need food for the bus journey’ he said frantically.

We didn’t know where we’d be going, but had decided we’d take the first bus out of town, which left at six. We couldn’t steal the pick-up truck.

‘I’m gonna go into Bette’s pantry and take some food’ William said. It was too late to go out and buy supplies and it would be too early to buy some the next day.

I agreed that it was the best idea. Bette had been so good to us, and stealing from her wasn’t something we wanted to do. But it was the only option we had. William waited until around ten when he knew Bette would be asleep before leaving, the wind slamming the door shut behind him.

George slept soundly in his cot despite the noise while I packed the rest of our things. I marvelled that while William had arrived here with nothing, and George and I with just three bags, we’d somehow managed to amass piles of belongings.

There were clothes strewn over our bed, and toys and books all over the floor. I knew we couldn’t take it all, so carefully chose George’s favourite things and placed them into the bags. I picked up Ronald from the cot and breathed in his freshly washed scent. I reminded myself not to forget him tomorrow.

‘What’s going on?’ a voice said behind me.

My heart almost jumped into my throat and I whipped around.

‘God, Bette you scared me’ I said, touching my hand to my heart.

Bette was standing in her dressing gown, her already wispy hair standing up, and her face tired.

‘I heard a noise downstairs and when I looked out the window, I noticed your light still on’ she looked over at the mess in our bedroom, and at the bags on the floor. ‘Where you going?’

My mind buzzed. We weren’t going to tell her we were leaving. It would be safer for her that way. ‘We’re just going away for a few days’ I said, averting my eyes from hers.

‘Bill didn’t say anything about wanting time off’ her brow creased.

‘I know it’s a bit sudden, but I’ll get him to drop in to explain tomorrow’ I walked into the living room, collecting a few more bits along the way.

It was wrong to lie to her; William wouldn’t do anything of the sort.  Bette followed behind me, I still couldn’t look at her.

‘We’ll be back before you know it’

‘Sure you will’

A force slammed into my back, knocking me forwards. A wash of blurs flooded my eyes and my legs buckled, sending me down before I had time to think. In that millisecond, my heart sped up, and my body became rigid with shock. The last thing I heard was the crack of my head hitting the floor.

*

I opened my eyes a fraction, so they were just slits. Black and red dots danced in front of them. It was a moment before I registered the rest of my body, my legs felt like jelly, yet my back was tight, the muscles pulling in every direction. My face was squashed against the cold floor and as my senses returned, I smelt something metallic near to me. Blood.

My arms were outstretched and I wiggled a finger. It hurt, in fact my whole body hurt. That moment of realisation that I was alive and still moving was replaced in an instant.

‘George?’ I said, yet it came out as a whisper.

‘George?’ I repeated. I pushed myself up, unsticking myself from the floor. I looked around the room, letting it come back into focus before I tried to stand up.

When the room stood still, I grabbed onto the back of the couch and hurled myself to my feet. It was too quick and the blood rushed to my head. I placed a hand on my temple, and when I took it away, my fingers had turned bright red.

‘Will?’ I croaked. ‘George?’

I stumbled into the bedroom. Everything was as I’d left it. Except when I looked over to the cot, just like I’d feared and felt the moment I’d woken up; it was empty.

‘No. No no no’ I cried, stumbling towards the front door. The moment I opened the door, the wind and rain smacked into my face, threatening to force me back inside.

I ploughed ahead, squinting to find any sign of life. There was nothing around me, the only sounds were the creaks trees as the wind attacked them. I looked over to Bette’s house and squinted again through the rain. A faint glow was coming from the kitchen.

I moved as fast as I could with the elements working against me and my legs wobbling. ‘Will!’ I screamed.

I used the full weight of my body when I reached the back door and it whipped open. Everything looked so normal; the chipped worktops, the old pots and pans hung up against the wall. It seemed ridiculous that it could stay the same when my life was hurtling around me like a tornado. 

There was a banging coming from somewhere. At first I thought it was just the house, yet it was frantic and determined. I looked to the corner of the small kitchen, where the door to the pantry was firmly shut and bolted.

I rushed over without thinking and pressed my hands against the door, ‘Will?’

His voice came, fast as lightning ‘Kate!’

My fingers shook over the bolt and the door swung open from the inside. William came flying out, crashing into me.

‘Are you ok, are you ok?’ he said, holding my head to him. Relief flooded me and I gripped his shirt. He pulled away suddenly and wiped the blood off my temple. ‘What happened?’

The words came out muddled and confused, ‘She taken him…she hit me…Bette’

William’s face drained of colour, ‘where is she?’

‘I don’t know Will, she just, I’m so sorry…she’s taken him’ my face started to burn.

‘She can’t have got far’ he pulled my hand like a ragdoll and we rushed back outside.

I don’t know how long I was out for, but William’s reaction made me think it can’t have been that long. ‘How long were you in there?’ I shouted over the wind.

‘She locked me in fifteen minutes or so ago’ he shouted back.

Had it only been fifteen minutes? Every second without George seemed like a lifetime. William looked into the distance, towards the entrance of the farm.

‘Where is he Will?!’ I was a stupid thing to say, but I could think of nothing else.

‘I can’t see any cars up there’ he said. ‘If they’ve taken George, they’ll want me too’

We turned the corner to where I’d first found him next to his pick-up truck. Both his car and Bette’s small Chevy were still there.

Amongst the battering noises against the windows, a tiny sound drummed my ears.

‘Did you hear that?’ I said to Will.

‘What?’ he said, pushing the rain off his face.

I walked past the cars quickly, ‘the horse’

William followed a step behind me, ‘what?’

‘The horse Will!’ I shouted impatiently. ‘He sleeps during the night’

William’s face filled with comprehension. We started to run towards the stable, our ears straining to hear the loud whine of the horse again. The door was ajar and I saw William’s chest heave with hope. We pushed it open.

There, at the back of the room stood Bette, George wrapped in a blanket in her arms. They were feeding the horse hay like it was the most normal thing in the world. There was just a single wall light in the room, but I could tell that though sleepy, George was unharmed. 

‘Bette’ I said.

She turned around nonchalantly, casting her gaze over the two of us. I took a step forward. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you’ she said in a voice that was unfamiliar.

‘Just give him to us’ William snarled.

‘I don’t think so’ she glanced behind our heads.

William and I looked at each other, evidently thinking the same thing. She was waiting for someone to arrive.

‘There’s no need for you to keep him, just give him to us, you’re scaring him’ I pleaded.

George was sitting calmly on her hip. He’d gotten so used to her. She’d taken care of him and played with him. Of course he wasn’t scared. She laughed dryly.

William’s eyes were narrowing and I knew he wanted to pounce on her.

‘Don’t try anything’ she said tightening her grip.

‘You wouldn’t hurt him’ William said.

‘And how do you know that?’ she smiled.

I wanted to hurt her just as much as William did but we had to try a different tact. ‘Who are you?’

Bette laughed again, ‘I’m exactly who you think I am’ she said, her voice drawling. ‘I own this farm’

‘Who are you working for’ William tried I sound as calm as me but failed.

‘Who do you think?’ she said, playing with George’s toes. ‘You think you just turn up here and some dumb old lady takes you on without asking a single question?’

William turned away, angry at his own naivety. 

‘So what now?’ I asked. ‘You’re just gonna hold us here until whoever gets here?’

‘I’ll do what I was paid to do’ she looked at me with disgust.

‘We trusted you’ 

‘Then you’re idiots. You really thought you’d be left here to play happy families? We’ve been watching you, making sure you didn’t do anything stupid. But you had to go and ruin it. They would’ve left you alone if you didn’t try to run’

William was fuming now, his body heaving. I held onto his arm. 

But it was too late. He lunged forwards and Bette backed away, turning to the wall. 

George cried at the sudden movement and my heart tore.

‘Give him to me’ William roared.

Bette spun back around, her hand grasping a metal bar that she’d picked up. I realised that’s what she’d hit me with. She must’ve had it ready in a corner when she came to the house.

She swung at William but he stepped aside, sending her of balance. The bar hit the side of the stable instead, and as it did William pounced to her other arm, tearing George from her grasp.

He ran over to me and almost threw George into my arms. I wrapped my arms around him and rocked him.

Bette’s eyes were frantic. I couldn’t tell if it was her anger or fear of what would happen now she’d lost George. In a second, she walked calmly over to William and hit him straight on the back.

He fell to his knees, groaning in pain.

‘Stop it!’ I screamed.

‘Give me the baby’ she said in her old tone.

My protective instinct kicked in as William struggled to his feet. All this time, she’d been plotting and planning. If we had stepped out of line, tried to leave, she would’ve taken action against us. The cooking lessons, telling us to take a break; it was all a way to make us not want to leave this place.

Fire gripped my stomach, the anger of our precious six months turning out to be nothing but another cage.

I handed George to William once he’d regained his composure.

‘Kate what are you doing?’ he said, eyes wide.

I strode towards her and grabbed the bar. She tugged, but I placed both hands around it and pulled it from her grasp.

‘Don’t come near them’ I said in a low voice.

‘It won’t be me you need to worry about in a minute’ she said, with a slight shake to her voice.

She made a try for the bar again. I don’t know what made me do it. Rage? Animal instinct? But at that moment, without my brain seemingly connected to my body, I bought my free arm from my side and slapped her hard on the face.

She stumbled backwards, but before I could register her shock, William was pulling me out of the barn.

‘Let’s go!’ he was saying.

He pulled me outside and slammed the barn door shut, pulling down the latch.

‘They’ll find her eventually’ he said to me, like I’d care if they did. ‘We’ve got to go, I can’t see any one at the entrance, I’ll get the bags, you call home, we don’t know when we’ll get signal again’

We ran back to the outhouse and scooped up everything in sight, including the car keys. We had no reservations about taking the pick-up truck now.

William travelled back and forth to the car as I dressed George in something warmer. As he returned from his third trip, a light from stopped him in his tracks.

I looked up at the same time he did. Out at the entrance to the farm – the only exit – were a line of headlights.

‘We’re too late’ I breathed.

William paused.

I held his arm, my heart thudding, ‘can’t we call the police or something?’

He looked at me with apology in his eyes. ‘They won’t get here in time and I’m betting they’ve been paid off too’

I looked at the ground, desperately trying to think of someone that would help us.

He held me close, suddenly resigned , ‘they won’t hurt us Kate…they just want us out of the way. They’ll probably just take us somewhere remote again like they did to me’

The lights were still there but they weren’t moving any closer. ‘And that’s what you want?’

‘I know it’s not ideal, but if it keeps us safe’, he touched his fingers to the cut on my head.

‘We won’t be safe and happy at home now? I mean we were never really unhappy were we?’ I asked.

‘We agreed on this, it will make us happy eventually. Now call home, tell them what’s happening’. He kissed me and left to take more bags to the car.

He didn’t answer my question, at least he thought he hadn’t. But he had answered it in what he hadn’t meant to say. Eventually.

I picked the mobile phone up from the table and switched it on, staring down at the battery sign flashing at me. I reached into my back pocket and took out the scrap of paper. Eventually wasn’t good enough.

*

It only took twenty minutes. We’d packed everything in the car, with William’s optimism that they’d let us drive ourselves to wherever we were going.

We were in the middle of the living room when they came, arms wrapped around each other with George sandwiched between us. We didn’t know why they were waiting. Perhaps they were waiting for Bette to get in touch or for us to try to escape before they captured us.

Either way it gave us precious time.

Lights came flooding through the windows, lighting up the farm.

‘What the…?’ William let go of me and shielded his eyes to get a better look, ‘how many more of them have they sent?’

‘It’s not them’ I said blankly, following him outside.

He hadn’t seemed to have heard me, ‘why do they need so many cars?!’

‘It’s not them!’ I said louder. He looked to me and I tilted my head, ‘I’m sorry’

His eyes widened, ‘what have you done?’

‘I’m sorry’ I said again.

He held my face in his hands, ‘Kate, what have you done? Who are they?!’ His voice was ragged and tired.

Tears welled in my eyes, ‘I had to do it, there wasn’t another way, we’d be pushed around from place to place and our freedom would be on their terms for the rest of our lives’

I knew William still didn’t understand but he didn’t try to force me, just kept his hands on my face as the weather played havoc around us.

‘It’s the press’ I said finally.

His face dropped. ‘What?’

‘They’re the only people that could help us. You said yourself the police were probably corrupt. They’re the only people who could get here in time and the only people they can’t control…’ I pointed to the cars that were waiting to take us away. The people probably sent by Steven and Alec. These were the people behind the Revolution.

The press had fueled the fire of the Revolution and now it came like a deluge to wash it out.

‘Please don’t be angry, you know leaving wouldn’t be right’

William released his grip on my face and watched as more lights appeared in the distance.

It was Mary who had put the thought into my head. She had said that if she wanted to expose us, then she would’ve called the paper by now. At the time, I recoiled at the thought of the press infiltrating our little hidden nest like snakes in the grass. But as I called her and told her to ring the local paper and do that very thing, in fact to ring the biggest and most media outlets she could find, I acknowledged they were our only hope.

‘We’ll never get the lives we hoped for now, you know that’ he said to me. It wasn’t chiding or angry, but just a confirmation of the finality that I already knew.

No matter how disappointed he was, I know as William took George from me, his little body shivering in the rain and looked at the gash on my head; a result of our fight for our ‘freedom’, that our dreams would always be just out of reach. 

I took his hand and he held it securely. We walked away from the house and onto the path that led away from the farm. The rain poured down onto us and the wind flew threw the fields, around and between us. 

We stopped in the middle of the path when we came into view of the cars, holding tightly onto each other. The lights seemed to turn and focus in our direction, piercing through the dark and shined onto us, once more.

Epilogue

‘Are you ok?’ he muttered into my ear.

‘Yeah, fine, just a bit nervous’ I replied, taking a deep breath.

‘And you GB?’ 

George shouted a response which we took to be a yes.

William placed a hand on my back and lead me outside. The cheers went up immediately, the streams of red, white and blue colouring the masses of bodies below. 

It was amazing how little, yet how much had changed. Just five months on and it was like it had never happened. The Queen stood waving gratefully. It wasn’t a gesture that said she was grateful to be alive or not exiled, but one that thanked the people for keeping the faith in her.

That was the thing about duty, just when you thought you’d escaped it, it would bind itself around you and reel you back in. 

When we’d left Iowa, William had bargained with the press immediately. Kept our secret, and we’d give them an interview and more access to our family. They agreed, and somehow those beautiful few months had remained ours to savour.

William and I waved, as did George, who was loving the attention. He should get used to this, I thought. He’ll be doing it now every June for the rest of his life.

A flutter passed through my stomach and I placed my hand on it.

William shot me a look immediately, speaking through his smile, ‘you sure you’re ok?’

I touched his arm, ‘yes, stop worrying about us’

There on that balcony we were exposed to the world again. A world so different to the one we were determined to live in. The Revolution was over, a new government formed, the monarchy returned to its place, and a new hope blossomed in the country.

A new hope, that if you read the newspapers, was symbolised by something tiny, perfect and innocent, curled up inside me.

The one, beautiful thing we’d bought back from Redfern.

This is where that story ended and a new one began.

The End

[alkhale]

Omg omg can one of the causes of fights between mini shanks n mini mihawks be bcs Hoku doesn't call him "Brat" ????

(First scene Mihawk is fifteen, next scene is 16 along with Shanks, best reference is the young Mihawk Oda drew but I found a slightly older version someone made, it’s colored by a deviantart user but I don’t know who the original artist is so credits to them!)

When fifteen-year-old Mihawk finally woke up, wild, ink black hair pushed back over his headit was to something soft and warm beneath his head and the flash, secondary instinct to grab his sword at his side, as though the hilt and his palm were connected entirely.

And then a soft laugh hit his ears.

A simple click and the memories returned, easy and a bit bitter to swallow, but he was not a fool and he was not an idiot. 

Dracule Mihawk, on a quest to become the strongest swordsman alive, had challenged the current reigning king of said title, and lost. Quickly, decisively and fairly. There was nothing more to dwell on the matter aside from his own lack of discipline, of training, and of certain skill.

Though such an action very much might have warranted losing his life, he was not dead.

Mihawk half turned to the woman who was waiting behind him, kneeling with a warm grin playing on her lips that allowed a thin glint of white from a canine of hers to peek out.

“You’re a funny one, aren’t you?” Hoku said, “I’m never sure how to handle types like yours.”

Mihawk remained silent for a moment, dropping his eyes down to his hands. He considered their scabbed, rough feel hidden behind now clean white bandages. He touched his chest where he was no longer bleeding, tight white bandages wrapping neatly around him along with nothing but a bruise along the side of his face where the legendary Wado Ichimonji had decked him sideways and knocked him into the ocean without mercy.

“I did not ask to be treated,” Mihawk said calmly.

Hoku looked even more amused now, eyes a little half-lidded when she looked at him. Her heavy, sturdy coat hung over her shoulders but was pushed back to reveal the warm tan of steady arms–hands that knew work. He could clearly see the outline of her own blade–a notable, ungraded and legendary short sword by the name of Mau who earned its reputation far and wide.

This woman, Mihawk knew. He did not concern himself with the particulars of the legendary Straw Hat crew aside from their captain, Zoro, whom he longed to beat, and this woman, Hoku, since she was the only other crew member to carry a sword.

“I know,” Hoku said. Mihawk realized she had moved his head to her lap while he was unconscious. “I only did your hands, by the way. Chopper did the rest.”

Mihawk continued to stare at her.

“He thinks you have potential,” Hoku said simply. “You trim buds, but you don’t kill them off before they can bloom, do you?”

He understood now why he made it out with his life.

“You fight with that blade,” Mihawk said, though he posed it as a question. Hoku seemed to be considering whether or not he was worthy of an answer and he took no offense to this. He did not know of this woman’s skill, but he knew it existed. She had earned her rank and place. Her sword spoke to that.

“Not as much anymore,” Hoku said instead. “The two of us are a bit retired now and I definitely don’t take challenges like that monster. I’m more of an artist at heart.”

Mihawk had heard about that too. “But you craft.”

There was something pleased in her expression by his knowledge of this, though a touch wary. It made Mihawk a bit more interested himself. He turned, on his knees as he faced her with his hands on his lap.

“Yes,” Hoku said, a little warm. “I do.”

She tilted her head to the side for a moment, as though listening. “That’s a good sword. It kept you safe for now. It’ll do what it can to bring you as far as it can go.”

Mihawk touched his hilt and then looked at Hoku.He stared at her for a moment longer than he would have liked and then stood. Hoku blinked, curious as he remained standing before he promptly bowed to her.

“Thank you.”

And then Mihawk turned, a young man and his sword, and left.

Hoku watched him until he disappeared, a small, fond little huff escaping her lips.

“Told you there’s no point in talking to him,” a lazy voice called above her. Hoku didn’t even look, shrugging helplessly as heavy feet came to rest behind her. “Not much of a chatterbox.”

“Neither are you,” Hoku said. She rubbed the back of her neck, “Dunno. I just feel like you won’t see people like him often. He’s a bit cute. Like a stray, maybe?”

“You called that golden axe the other day cute too,” Zoro snorted. Hoku leaned back against his legs, rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms high as she relaxed. “Might have to give him a scar to remember next time.”

“Ah, you’re soft on him,” Hoku said. “You like him.”

“Brat’s gonna come for my head next time.”

“I dunno, can’t you guys trade titles in the future without chopping each other’s heads off?”

Zoro set a hand down on her head. His fingers splayed out and Hoku turned to look up at him.

“That eager for me to kick the bucket?”

“Oh, please,” Hoku mused, tipping her head into Zoro’s hand. Her humored her, leaving it there for now and curving his fingers below her chin. “I don’t plan on letting anyone take your head anytime soon.”

Hoku made a face. “I’m speaking for Luffy, not for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, get off your lazy ass. I need a coating.”

“I’ll charge you one day for all you owe me. Nami’s keeping track.”

- - - -

Shanks really was lucky.

He had felt good about this beach the moment his crew set anchor on the other side of the harbor. He and Buggy were racing to see who could find the biggest and best catch and bring it back to the ship by dawn–

And truly, this was without a doubt, the best catch.

He knew it was her in an instant. It’d been a little while and he’d only caught glimpses of her in the newspapers, her captain making headline after headline as the marines raced after him. But that moon-white hair, the slope of her shoulders hidden by a cloak and–

She was just sitting there, where the grass of the forest met the sand, her back to everything else as she seemed to watch the ocean a safe distance away. Shanks thought he must be dreaming at first or perhaps this island had a secret mirage.

But he caught sight of their ship, her ship. A legendary ship anchored several leagues away and knew–

It was fate.

Something curled in the pit of his stomach. His heart pumped blood fast and hot through his body, fueling liquid courage all the way down to his fingertips. He was a year older now. He was less lank more muscle. He was taller too, maybe even taller than her now, he’d like to think, though he never minded a tall woman, he fancied the idea of cupping his hand under that curved chin and raising it to his–

Shanks’ eyes landed on a heavy bough of flowers beside him. Pretty, bright red things. A smaller branch of silver flowers grew below it. He considered them both, teetered dangerously and cursed under his breath, snapping the branch of soft silver flowers clean. 

He had to ease into this sort of thing after all. Coax her sweet so she wouldn’t slip off, make her a bit interested enough to stay.

Shanks ran a hand through his bright red hair and walked forward, lightly swinging the branch.

When he was only a little ways away, she seemed to finally register his approaching presence, as though he were a deer who’d broken away from a herd of things. She still faced away from him, tilting her head to the side as though listening curiously before she started to turn.

Shanks stopped as close as he dared for now, a few steps from her–and he kept in mind to treat kindly the fact that she let him get this close and that gave him hope–he dipped the branch low.

Those ocean eyes blinked, slow and curious, round at the bundle of flowers presented before her before looking up.

“I didn’t think there was treasure on this island,” Shanks said with a bright, sunny grin. “But it looks like I found some.”

“Brat,” Hoku said, pleasantly surprised. He withheld a wince at the name. “Huh, I guess Robin was right. This island is getting a little more popular now…”

“I think it was fate,” Shanks said. He shook the branch. Petals fell, dappling her hair and she looked up, amused at his antics. “Did you miss me?”

“I hardly thought about you at all,” Hoku said, a small smile on her lips. Shanks inched a step closer. “I thought we wouldn’t meet for ten more years.”

“I don’t think my heart could take such a thing,” Shanks crouched on the sand beside her. Hoku looked amused, watching him with vague curiosity. Her hair was a little longer and he’d fight to run his hands through it once.

“Too long for–” Shanks’ eyes dropped down and he stopped. He blinked, once, twice, and then a third time for good measure.

There, stretched out in the sand before her, was a youthful face. A face not much older than his own. A hardened face who Shanks recognized from the waves he was making. A face that was currently attached to a head that was very much resting on the soft and supple skin of Hoku’s thighs, fast asleep and–

Dracule Mihawk was sleeping on Hoku’s lap.

Shanks stared.

“Oh,” Hoku said, following his eyes. “He’s another rookie like you. Maybe you two have heard of each other–”

Shanks stared at Hoku as though she’d driven a knife right through his heart. His eyes went soft, staring at her in his best, most charming sense of a puppy-dog face. Hoku stared at him with round eyes, blinking. “What’s that look for? All I said was–”

As though summoned, Mihawks’ eyes finally slid open. Shanks gaped at him. Hoku looked down. The young swordsman seemed to consider several things for a moment before promptly he sat up–to Shanks’ relief–and turned to Hoku.

“He developed an even stronger technique,” Mihawk said.

“Oh, you noticed,” Hoku grinned. “He never stops advancing, you know. You’ll have to run to even get close to catching up.”

Mihawk’s golden eyes flickered before he nodded. He moved, standing up and Hoku let her hands fall into her lap. Shanks continued to gape.

“What’s the matter with you?” Soft fingers tapped the side of his face and Shanks’ head jerked to the side. His cheek connected with Hoku’s warm palm, ocean eyes curious as she watched him. “You seemed confident as a lion just a moment ago–”

“I wasn’t aware you two were acquainted,” Shanks said, a wide, quick grin curling on his lips. He flashed Mihawk a sharp look who simply stared blankly back at him in return. Hoku moved to pull her hand away and Shanks quickly reached up, cupping his hand over hers.

Hoku arched a brow.

“Lovely dove,” Shanks said, voice a little low, eyes a little pleading, expression soft. His fingers moved lightly over the back of her hand in a way he hoped was distracting. “What do I have to do to be spoiled like that?”

Hoku blinked. She seemed confused by his question for a moment before something must have clicked and then she laughed. Shanks’ eyes went half lidded at the sound and Mihawk raised a brow at the redhead’s expression.

“Challenge the greatest swordsman alive,” Hoku said, eyes a little wild. “And we’ll see what happens.”

Maybe I should play a little sick next time. Shanks wondered. I wouldn’t mind being spoiled like that–

“And you should really just let me coat your sword for you,” Hoku said, ignoring Shanks and pulling her hand away. He pouted at the loss and Hoku faced a calm Mihawk. “I promise it’ll help–”

“I’m not good enough to have you coat for me,” Mihawk said simply. “Not yet.”

Shanks huffed, “Dove, I’d gladly let you do anything to or for me–”

Shanks stopped.

He was fairly certain his heart might’ve too.

Red, soft, flush red colored her cheeks. Hoku’s eyes were a little wide, almost soft at Mihawk’s words. She looked hopelessly embarrassed, flushing in pride at the praise as she reached up and placed a hand over her face as though to hide the entire view, crumpling a bit.

“You can’t just going saying things like that,” Hoku said, sheepish and soft. “Really now–”

Shanks wanted that face engraved to memory. He wanted that face to be made because of him. He wanted it under his fingertips. He wanted it, begged for it beside him. He wanted to see it color darker, a little more flushed, eyes soft on him and his hands running low and pushing, playing, trying to see how much more he could–

Shanks paused. Maybe this time Buggy was right and a little bit of that passion was bleeding a bit toward somewhere else.

“HOOOKKKKKUUUUUU!” Shanks and Mihawk froze, the loud, resounding voice boomed across mountains, echoing blaringly clear. “WHEEEEEERREEE ARRREEEE YOOOUUUU?”

They both looked to each other, realization coloring their faces as to who the voice belonged to and–

Without another word, Hoku stood. Her head turned toward the sound of her name, at her call, eyes warm, the expression on her face–

Something Shanks wasn’t sure he knew how he ought to feel about. It reminded him of her moment with Zoro. A simple call of her name and yet–

Something too far for him to ever grasp. Something that shouldn’t be touched. Something he couldn’t touch.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again, brat,” Hoku grinned at Shanks, holding a silver flower up. Shanks blinked in realization. “Thanks for the flowers.”

Turning to Mihawk she added over her shoulder, “Rest up. See you again, Mihawk.”

She beamed at the two of them and promptly set off, never once looking back as she followed the continued calls of her name, hurrying maybe just a bit.

…

…

…

“Alright, spill it you sly dog. What did you do and what did you say to get her to treat you like that?” Shanks nearly pulled tufts of red out. “You were in her lap! Her lap, you dog! And that face–do you understand how cute she is?”

Mihawk stared at him as one would a bug.

“Who are you?”

- they’ll all meet again

[koiikun]

Egg

Dahlia was doing that thing again.

Where he was 'stealthily' following you around after lunch, likely eyeing up the scrap bucket in your hands. The first time he had left when he saw you feed it to the chickens, but seemed bewildered when you later returned with a bucket full of eggs.

You had wanted to tell him earlier that if he was curious he only had to ask, but something told you that he wouldn't take your words at face value just yet. So, he stalked you down to the chicken coop, your neck hairs pricking the whole time under his watch as you pretended to not notice.

Clicking your tongue and shaking the bucket enticingly, you scattered the scraps of eggshells and vegetable peels into the small fenced area. Most of the chickens immediately went over to peck at it in interest, including your one strutting rooster. Perfect.

Edging over to the coop after sliding the bucket handle to rest on the crook of your elbow, you opened the hutch. It pleased you to note the sheer amount of eggs there were this time. You might actually have to take two trips with how small the scrap bucket was.

You plucked up the first one, checking it over. The egg was clean this time, so there was no worry over having to deworm your newer chickens again. Rescues were always a little iffy the first few weeks.

Speaking of, one of the more aggressive hens was alert in her nest. Beady eyes glaring at you in challenge, ready to peck the living daylights out of any hand that drew too close to her clutch. Her head bobbed in tune with your movements as you came nearer and nearer to her nest. A hoarse croak of warning starting to warble in her throat and feathers puffing up to look larger.

Well, you'd get her on the second go around, you would need to get a stick to nudge her out of place anyway.

Taking your half of the prize with the full intention of returning later, you went back to the house and quietly counted the amount you collected so far. Chrysanthemum eyed you suspiciously from the couch, large red eyelight focusing on the egg-bucket.

"Are you still hungry?" You ask him. "I can make you some eggs, there was a good haul today."

Chrysanthemum didn't say anything, but you weren't particularly expecting an immediate answer. Instead, you went about gently rinsing a few of the eggs and setting them out, while the rest were placed in some spare cartons. You had almost three dozen and were absolutely certain you would find almost one more with the clutches left. A very good haul, indeed.

"...would you scrabble them with cheese?" It wasn't hesitant, his question. More like still trying to feel out the extent of your 'generosity'. He was never shy about asking for something, it was more along the lines of not trusting you to follow through. This had gotten especially bad since your temporary monster guide had left last week, the three month trial period already passed. In terms of trust, humans in positions of power were at the absolute bottom of the totem pole, not that you blame him really.

Still, you hummed in agreement. "Do you want me to put ketchup on the side or just give you the bottle?"

"bottle."

So you did. There was no reason to rush it through, and taking your time made it easier for Chrysanthemum to see exactly what you were doing. You found that it put the monsters more at ease to see what exactly was going into their food. But you almost always had to take the first bite at meals before they would follow suit. And then find a pace that matched their so they wouldn't feel threatened or rushed, not finishing too fast or too slow.

It was a bit stressful at times.

This time, Chrysanthemum only took the plate with a grunt of, "thanks, lamb chop", before digging in. Progress!

Smiling, you murmured, "No problem." Sure, it was probably only because he had watched the whole cooking process from start to end, but any tiny show of faith encouraged you greatly. With a happy hum to yourself, you set the pan and mixing bowl in the sink, fully intending to clean it later along with the plate when Chrys was done eating. Now for the rest of those eggs...

Nabbing the bucket and heading out the door, you were utterly oblivious to what you were about to witness, as you had forgotten one thing.

Or, rather, one person: Dahlia.

Dahlia, who was squeezing the living daylights out of a protesting chicken.

All of you do was stare uncomprehendingly as he cursed at the hen pecking viciously at his exposed bones.

"Um."

He froze, finally looking up and noticing you. The chicken get squawking frantically, struggling and flapping. His clawed phalanges tightened reflexively and the unbelievable happened. A egg slipped out of the hen's cloaca and splattered on the ground, bits of yolk flying everywhere.

You idly noted a farm cat, who had been watching in interest, darting over to lap up the carnage, purring.

"...this isn't what it looks like."

You stared at him in disbelief.

"...i just wanted to make it finish faster before you got back," Dahlia added with a sullen grumble.

"Uh, that's... that's not how it works, Dahlia," you managed, eyes squinting as you tried to wrap your head around that logic. "Squeezing chicken won't make them lay eggs faster."

"but it just layed one right now?"

"...Was it laying eggs before you pick it up?"

He nodded, shifting his tight hold on the bird, tucking it under his arm like a feathery football. Said bird was not happy with this new arrangement either.

"Then it released that last one out of fear, probably. Some animals, uh, relieve themselves to distract a predator so they can escape. That, and the egg was probably already on its way out. The hen's probably not gonna lay any more for a while from the stress..."

Dahlia took in the information with grimace, glaring down at the chicken like it was to personally blame before he released it. It fluttered down in a flurry of feathers and scoldings before fleeing across the enclosure where the rest of the flock cowered.

The barn cat rubbed itself against the skeleton's legs, finished licking up the yolk, with pleased meow before strutting off.

The two of you awkwardly stared at each other.

"Uh, if you want, you can help me pick up-"

Dahlia vanished.

"-the rest of the eggs..." You finished half heartedly. It was just you now. "...Or not, I guess."

You still ended up with a lot of eggs that day.

...

I got nothing lol have some chicken canoodling

---

AHHHHHHH LOOK AT THIS

I know I haven't posted in a while but I reread this and I sobbed cause it's so funny xD

[ericsonclan]

Putting Up The Stars In The Sky For Her

Summary: Prisha wants to surprise Violet by bringing the stars to her.

Read on A03:

Prisha felt her annoyance growing with each passing second. No matter where she looked in the basement, she couldn’t find what she was looking for. The dust that had settled on the boxes and miscellaneous items over the decade of this new world had been tossed up in the air, irritating Prisha’s nose more and more with each box she moved. She had been searching for nearly an hour now and still she was coming up empty-handed. A small orb of fear that had settled in the pit of her stomach was rising as her goal seemed further out of reach.

“Damn it,” Prisha whispered under her breath, moving past the shelving unit she was next to and onto one that was nearby the entrance. If things keep going like this… Prisha’s hand brushed off some dust from a container, a frustrated groan escaping her lips when yet another failure had been added onto this search. I’ll never find it before Violet gets back.

“Hey, Prisha! Whatcha up to?” Louis’ cheery voice made Prisha spin around sharply on her heel and caused her head to collide with one of the metal railings. “Oh shit. Prisha, are you okay?” Louis ran over towards her with a concerned expression on his face.

Prisha let out a small hiss while she gently rubbed the back of her head. “I’m fine,”

“Okay, sorry about that. Clem told me you had gone down here and I just thought I’d check on you,” Louis’ eyes trailed over to the container that Prisha had recently dusted off. “So, mind if I ask what’s piqued your interest enough to come down here today?”

“I was trying to see if there was any paint stored down here, but after a thorough search of most of the storage so far I think that the chances may be slim,” Prisha let out a sad sigh at her own statement. Her whole plan rested on this one element.

“Well, have no fear, Prisha, for I know where some may just be,” Louis pulled on the sides of his coat with a dramatic flair, a proud smile appeared on his lips.

Prisha’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really. Now if my memory serves me, I think it may be over in the far left corner right by that weirdly shaped box. Back when the world went to shit some of the kids had found the paint supplies and Ms. Martin ended up having to hide it all away with my help so they wouldn’t mess up the whole school. ” Louis stopped by the metal shelving. “Aha! Here it is!” He dusted off a large tub-like bucket of paint, revealing the company logo when suddenly he inhaled a puff of dust that caused him to cough sharply. “Oh man, that is dusty,” Louis smiled back at Prisha whose eyes seemed to practically shine at the sight of the paint.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Louis,” Prisha grabbed the container and set it down on the ground. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find-” Prisha’s face suddenly dropped before she pushed aside the bucket. “Damn it!”

“Hey, it’s alright. Why is the paint so important anyway?” Louis glanced over at his friend.

“I…” Prisha took a deep breath. “I wanted to surprise Violet by painting some of the walls in our room to look like the night sky,” Prisha’s hand wandered down and started to play with the tip of her braid. “I thought because of her limited eyesight and the fact that a way to improve it hasn’t worked out yet, I could help her be able to see the sky again. At least a version of it.”

“Holy shit,” Louis had a huge grin on his face “That has to be about the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I know Violet’s gonna love that. So I’m going to help you. Now what is the problem with the paint?”

Prisha looked surprised for a second before a small, appreciative smile played on her lips. She should’ve known that Louis would be willing to help out, especially whenever it had anything to do with Violet. “It’s all dried up so it’s useless. Unless…..” Prisha’s eyes grew large when the answer appeared in her mind. She looked over at Louis. “Louis, you don’t happen to know if there’s any paint thinner in here, do you?”

Louis shook his head sadly, “No, I don’t. But...” Louis gave a hopeful smile “With the two of us, I bet we can find it if it is down here.”

The two immediately set out to find the paint thinner, quickly searching the areas that Prisha had covered in her previous hunt for the paint before turning towards new areas. Piles upon piles of dust flew into the air, causing both Prisha and Louis to sneeze occasionally as their eyes searched for the treasured item. It was only after nearly fifteen more minutes of searching that the paint thinner had been found. The pair made their way back over to the dried out paint, determined to revitalize it.

“So…” Louis held onto the paint thinner “Got any ideas on how this works?”

Prisha looked at the bucket of paint. “I think if we added it in slowly in small quantities and stir it with something while we do it, it should get back to the right consistency,” Prisha’s eyes scanned the air carefully before landing on an old ruler. “This should work if you can just pour a little in,”

“You got it,” Louis slowly tipped forward the paint thinner causing it to splash against the cracked, dry paint.

After a few moments the paint started to change forms, returning little by little back to its former glory. Prisha carefully stirred around, causing the clumps to fall into the center of the bucket as she motioned for Louis to add more. Steadily with the patient work of the duo they got the consistency back and just in time too as they heard voices coming from nearby the gate signalling that the hunting team had gotten back and that the watchtower shift had been changed. Due to how long they had been in the basement, it probably meant that it was nearing evening.

“I need to go,” Prisha dusted off her clothes as she rose to her feet. “I’m on dinner prep with Omar,”

“Oh, okay. What should we do with the paint?” Louis lifted up the bucket with one hand.

“We can just leave it in this corner and I can pick it up tomorrow when I have some free time.” Besides, Prisha looked down at the container. I still need to figure out how to get access to dye or figure out if I can make it. With that thought in mind, Prisha wandered back up out into the courtyard, lifting up her hand as she shielded her eyes from the change in lighting. She looked around and noticed that Omar was already busy at work getting the fire’s height back up to standards in preparation for the meal. Clementine was already busy at work chopping up some of the veggies. When Prisha had made her way over to the picnic table, she was greeted by the smiling faces of her friends.

“So,” Clementine started up on her next vegetable, cutting it horizontally before slicing it into smaller cubes. “How did the search for the paint go? ” Clementine’s voice went down to a whisper

“Think you’ll be able to paint the walls for Violet?”

“It took awhile, but thanks to Louis’ help I was able to find it,” Prisha grabbed some of the fresh herbs slowly, slicing through them to get the right cut of them for dinner. “But it was white paint which means,” Prisha let out a tired sigh, “That my work seems to be far from over. Unless someone knows where some dye is, I feel like this may end up being a lost cause,”

Clementine looked over at her friend sadly. It was really sweet that Prisha wanted to do this for Violet, but it seemed like a long and tedious process just to be able to get the supplies.

“I know how to make dye,” Omar’s calming voice drew over the girls’ attention. “I found out about it when I went through some of the library books that survived the fire in hopes that I would find some new recipes.”

“Really?” A smile pulled on the corner of Prisha’s lips. “Would it be possible to make blue and yellow dye?”

“Sure, if you have the right ingredients,” Omar turned his attention back to the pot for a minute, making sure that the base hadn’t begun to smoke and burn. “I think I remember that if you get some dogwood bark and its berries, you can make blue dye and any dandelions that you get can easily be turned into yellow dye. All you need is some boiling water and a container to process it. I can help you tomorrow if you’d like.”

“That’s perfect. I think I saw some dandelions just outside the gates and dogwood isn’t too hard to find around these parts.” Prisha felt the small bit of hope that this plan could still work growing stronger inside her. “Omar, I… Thank you. It would mean a lot to me.”

Omar smiled back at Prisha. “I’m glad to help. Now can you focus on getting the rest of the prep done?”

“Right, my apologies,” Prisha returned to cutting the herbs. This can work. I can still do this.

The rest of the evening went by more or less like usual. Dinner time, as always, was as lively as ever. Willy and AJ told tales about their day before letting the others add into the conversation. After that most decided to head off to bed, giving Prisha and Violet some time to talk about this and that. As the sky grew darker they decided it would be best to head to bed themselves and so hand in hand they made their way into the dorms to prepare for the next day.

----

Prisha had offered to go on the hunting trip with Aasim in the afternoon in hopes of finding the right ingredients while still providing food from the newest traps Louis and Willy had made. As soon as they had gotten out the gates, Prisha veered right and snatched some dandelions that were in a small patch of grass. When she had tucked them away in her pockets, she was met with a confused expression by Aasim.

“I’ll explain in a minute. For now let’s just continue down the path,” Prisha moved past Aasim and began to make her way down the path. Her ice axe clinked against her hip while she walked. Aasim soon caught up and walked alongside her. His bow was already out and an arrow in the notch just in case they ran into any walkers.

After they were a fair distance away from the gates, Prisha spoke up.“I was grabbing those dandelions because I need them to help make dye for this paint I found.”

“Paint?” Aasim looked around, his eyes scanning the left side before the right. “What for?”

“It’s for Violet,” Prisha stated. Her own gaze was focused on making sure they wouldn’t be caught by surprise as well as searching for the last ingredient she needed.

“Alright, do you need anything else out here?” Aasim asked with a kind smile.

“I need to find some dogwood bark and its berries,”

“Oh, well I think I saw some the other day over by the west traps. We can grab some on the way back.

Prisha gave an appreciative smile before returning her focus back to the task at hand. The pair made their way towards the traps, talking about different ideas they had come up with to improve Ericson that they could work on and bring up with Clementine. After going through some of the traps, undoing, resetting and relieving them of the prey they had caught, Prisha and Aasim moved onwards to the last set.

When they had arrived they immediately saw the dogwood tree and the rich red berries that clung onto its branches. But first they need to see if the traps have gotten any game for them. Giving a quick glance around, it seemed only one rabbit had been caught and it was a baby at that. Aasim instantly let it go and looked between Prisha and his shoulders to see if they had gotten enough for the day. That was when he noticed a few stray walkers roaming nearby.

“Prisha,” Aasim motioned with his eyes towards the two walkers that were walking over towards them.

Prisha nodded in understanding before setting down the rabbits on her shoulder and unclipping her ice axe, moving to the first walker. With a mighty swing upward, Prisha embedded the weapon underneath the jaw of the walker, crunching through some smaller bones and making a small squishing sound when it impacted the brain. Letting go of her weapon which remained in place, Prisha repositioned her hand, yanking down hard and releasing her signature weapon with a hearty squelching sound. Prisha took a deep breath, ready to face her next opponent when she heard Aasim’s arrow hit its mark directly in the right eye, leaving the walker that was making its way behind her lifeless and hollow on the dirt path. Prisha held out her ice axe, carefully surveying the area before placing it back on her hip.

“Good thing there weren’t that many,” Aasim noted as he tucked away his bow and arrow for a moment.

“Have to count your blessings each chance you get,” Prisha added, her eyes traveling over to the dogwood tree. Wordlessly she made her way over and began to peel off some of the bark while Aasim started to grab some berries. After they had grabbed what they were positive would be an appropriate amount, they began to make their way back.

It wasn’t long before they were in sight of the tall, proud, lightly battered gates of Ericson. Aasim gave his share of the ingredients over to Prisha as they made their way back into the safety of their home.

Immediately Prisha made her way over to Omar and handed off the items. Looking around it seemed like Violet was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she got greenhouse duty today.

“Thanks, I can help you in a minute, just gotta get some more wood for the fire.” Omar placed aside the different bits of nature and walked over towards the pile of firewood that they had stored inside the gates.

“Allow me to help. It’s the least I can do,” Prisha grabbed a few pieces of firewood, tucking them under her arm before grabbing a couple more. Omar walked by her side and gave a warm smile.

“I think it’s really nice what you’re doing for Violet. I know she doesn't say much about it, but I know she must miss the stars,” Omar let out a small grunt when he tossed down the wood. “She used to sneak up all the time.” He took the pile from Prisha’s arms and started to place some in the fire pit.

“I just hope I’m able to get this to actually work after all the hoops I’ve had to jump through. But seeing Violet’s smile…” The brightness of it, the way it makes her eyes dance... “It will be worth it.”

“Well, the dye process isn’t too hard,” Omar took out some small containers. “I found these inside the admin building. They should work for the cooling part.”

Prisha nodded before offering her help. The two began the steps. Omar instructed Prisha to break down some of the ingredients and then asked her to hand them to him while he tossed them into the small pot. It was one he rarely used for anything with meals so it wouldn’t affect the taste of dinner.

Once he had tossed in the ingredients he stirred it around, allowing for it to seep and bring out the color that would make the dye. Adding in some more dogwood bark and berries, Omar tried to get the perfect shade of dark blue and give it the depth that it needed. After a few attempts, Prisha and Omar agreed that they had finally reached the right shade of blue. Next Omar added a thickening agent to make sure the consistency wasn't too runny and ineffective. When that had been completed and Omar was content with the quality, he moved to place them into the containers and handed them off to Prisha.

“There you go. It was my first time so I hope I made the color sharp enough. Just stir it into the paint and it should produce the colors you want.”

Prisha accepted the dye with a bright smile on her face. “Thank you,” With that she turned around and headed down to the basement to hide it along with the other parts to her plan. With some free time on her hand, she sat down with Willy and the two talked for what felt like hours, tweaking and refining some of their plans that had been a bust in hopes to make life better at Ericson.

Soon dinner was called and quickly consumed. The different members of the group wandered off in different directions to go about the free time they had. The sky slowly changed from its warm orange tones, pushing aside the lazily rolling clouds and making way for the dark blue sky.

“Well, I’m gonna go back to the room.” Violet’s voice drew Prisha’s attention as her girlfriend rose up from her spot on the steps of the admin building.

“Alright, I’ll join you in a bit,”

Violet gave a small smile before leaning down and placing a kiss on Prisha’s cheek.

“Okay, see you in a bit then,” With that Violet went off into the direction of the dorms, leaving Prisha alone.

Prisha’s gaze turned upwards to the sky. She had hoped to get some time to herself to properly look at the sky before she attempted to paint the walls tomorrow. Wanting to capture the beauty of the sky that had given her girlfriend so much peace and happiness before she had lost her sight. Prisha’s eyes wandered from star to star, completely lost in the marvel of the starry sky. It was no wonder Violet had grown so fond of the stars: they were beautiful. With a few more moments of peace and looking up at the sky, Prisha got up and made her way to the dorms, her excitement born anew from the success of the day and the stunning sky.

----

The next day rolled around and in the morning Louis and Prisha had pulled aside Clementine in hopes that she would agree to take Violet fishing with her today.

“Say no more, I’ll make sure we go fishing for a long time and give you two all the time you need to get the painting done.”

“Thanks, babe,” Louis placed a quick kiss on Clementine’s lips. “You’re the best.”

Clementine flashed a goofy grin back at her boyfriend. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I really do appreciate it,” Prisha added in which caused Clementine’s smile to grow.

“Please, it’s the least I can do. Besides, I'm happy to help Violet. I’m sure she’s gonna love it!”

It took a few minutes for Clementine and Violet to get ready but soon they had said their goodbyes and were off to the fishing shack.

Not wasting a second, Prisha and Louis made their way down to the basement and grabbed all the necessary supplies. Then they moved into the dorms, moving past all the now empty rooms that were once filled until they arrived at Prisha and Violet’s room. Carefully balancing some equipment, Louis opened the door and made his way to the desk where AJ’s drawing of Violet, Omar and Aasim making their way off the Delta ship was placed proudly above it on the wall and some rough sketches that Prisha made for future inventions laid scattered on the surface of the desk. Louis placed down the bucket of paint and dusted off his hands.

“Could you actually move it over towards those beds?” Prisha motioned with her eyes.

Louis gave a quick nod and moved over to the left bunk beds where the latest innovation that Prisha had been tinkering with laid in bits and pieces. Plopping down the bucket, Louis looked up and noticed the different pieces of art on the wall. A sad, small smile tugged on the corners of his lips. There were a few small sketches that Tenn had drawn of his sisters and Violet, but for the most part the pieces that had covered the wall were ones that were done by Sophie. Bright, lively colors filled those pages which seemed to match the artist’s own soul. It made sense why Sophie was so clearly prominent in her own art. She had poured her heart and soul into every sketch, painting and drawing that she did whether it was of nature or of her friends and family. Out of the corner of his eye, Louis noticed a white bed sheet dangling from the top bunk.

“Oh!” Louis snatched the bed sheet and pulled it off the top bunk “We can use these to make sure the paint doesn’t get on your bed.”

“That’s a great idea,” Prisha smiled while she balanced the dyes in her hand, walking past the bookshelf that held a few books that had caught her attention for future reading. The lower shelfs of the light brown bookshelf held the many different pages of music that Minnie had composed and other songs she didn’t want lost to the sands of time.

Prisha set down the two small containers of dye and four empty cans on the side table that stood between the two sets of bunk beds. A small, blue violet in a garden pot was placed on top of the side table. Its tiny, delicate blue petals danced with the light breeze that was coming through the cracks of the window.

“Alright,” Louis moved over to stand by Prisha. “Let’s get this started. I’ll mix up the yellow while you mix up the blue?”

“Yes, that should work,” Prisha waited for a moment while Louis filled the four cans cans before letting Prisha start mixing in the dye. The two stood around slowly stirring in the dye as it made the right color paint for them. “Oh, Louis? Could you grab the art box in the closet?”

“Sure,” Louis jogged over, pulling open the closet door and revealing Sophie’s old art box covered with all her stickers.

“There should be a couple of paint brushes in there.” Prisha looked back at Louis who nodded and then snatched up all the paintbrushes, both big and small. Returning to Prisha’s side, Louis placed down the paintbrushes and worked on completing the yellow paint. When both of them were satisfied with the colors, they worked on getting the old bed sheets up on the beds to cover them.

Louis was the first to get up, climbing up onto the bunk before the realization struck him. Shimmying his way under the sheet so he wouldn’t get paint on his coat, he reached out his hands to grab the two cans of paint, one of each color, and his paintbrush from Prisha. When he was all set and ready to go, Prisha positioned her set of paints and brushes and climbed on to the bed to start painting. “Man, Violet is gonna be so happy when she sees this,”

Prisha couldn’t see his face, but she was sure it was beaming with excitement. Prisha felt her own smile grow as she dipped the paintbrush into the dark blue and moved it across the wall. “I can’t wait,” Prisha lay down on her side to make sure that she was getting the whole wall so that it could be absolutely covered with stars when she started adding the second color.

Louis hummed happily as he smeared blue paint on the ceiling. The two were wrapped up in their work, wanting to create the best possible starry sky for Violet. It was only when they had finished applying the dark blue paint that they took a break for it to dry.

“So, how are you going to draw your stars?” Louis looked over the safety railing down at Prisha, his arms dangling lazily off it while a goofy smile lay on his face. Prisha shifted on the bed and looked up at Louis.

“I’m going to try and draw it to the best of my abilities to look like the real thing,”

Louis noticed the nervousness in Prisha’s eyes. “Don’t worry, Prisha, I’m sure it’s gonna look great. I’m thinking of making mine like those classic stars that you would see in story books. Big, bright yellow stars that cover the whole ceiling. So Violet can really enjoy the sight if she ever decided to lay up here.”

“I think she’ll like that,” Prisha smiled up at Louis.

The two continued to talk while the paint dried. Louis offered to try and cover their shifts while Prisha showed Violet the room and gave them some time alone. Prisha gratefully accepted the offer. A happy giddiness danced in her stomach at the thought of Violet’s smile when she saw the finished painting. After some time the first layer of paint was dry and a second layer was soon applied to make sure that the blue paint was going to really stand out and last. When that had dried the pair moved to the other color to make the stars.

Louis had a bright, loud, yellow paint which he slapped on the ceiling while he shaped the stars. His excitement grew with each paint brush swipe that completed another star. Soon the ceiling was covered with Louis’ stars that were beaming, sparkling with all of the care he had put into crafting them.

Prisha stared at the deep blue before her. Slowly she closed her eyes, trying to recall the feeling that she got when she stared up at the sky and the bright, marvelous beauty that the stars brought to it. Opening her eyes, she lightly dipped her paintbrush into the can with a very light yellow, barely different from the white. Thanks to Louis’ careful work he had made just the right color for Prisha’s painting. Moving the paintbrush, Prisha created small dots on the wall, putting them each in precise places. When she felt like she had added enough of them, she dunked the paintbrush into the can again. Positioning the paintbrush in between her knees, she held onto it with a tight grasp while she used her hand to pull back on the bristles of the paintbrush. This caused small, minuscule specks of paint to fly and land on the wall, creating dozens upon dozens of tiny stars that covered the spots that the larger stars had failed to capture. Soon the entire wall was filled with tiny stars and a few prominent larger ones that stood to represent more specific stars in the sky. Prisha looked at her handiwork with a proud smile.

“Are you done too?” Louis climbed down the bunk, landing with a hard thunk before he snatched up the paint supplies and the bed sheet, pulling them off the top bunk bed. Louis gave an impressed whistle when he saw Prisha’s stars. “Damn, Prisha, you never told me you were an artist.”

Prisha rolled off her bed and took off the paints and bed sheet before looking up at Louis’ handiwork. “You’ve got some skills yourselves.” Prisha smiled at the different odd shapes and sizes of Louis’ stars.

Louis gave a small chuckle and scratched the back of his head. “Please, it's nothing compared to yours.” His eyes looked out the window, noticing the change in color signaling that it was nearing early evening. “I bet Clem and Vi are back. You wanna gather the supplies, wash your hand and greet them?”

Prisha looked down at her hand; her fingers were covered with the whitish yellow paint. “That would be a good idea.”

The two talked excitedly as they made their way to the water basin. Taking out some of the water, they washed the brushes and their hands before placing away the supplies. When they had just finished cleanup and had made their way back to the courtyard, they heard the happy barking of Rosie and the eager hissing of Garbage that made it known to all that Clementine and Violet had returned. Louis and Prisha made their way over to the two just as they had reached Omar and set down the buckets with a few fish in them.

“Hey, Clem!’ Louis leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek. “How was fishing?”

“It went really well today. Vi and I were able to bring back a pretty good haul,” Clementine smiled over at Violet.

“Eh, I still missed a ton but yeah, I was able to get a few of them,” Violet gave a half-hearted shrug.

“Well it looks like you brought back a lot,” Prisha added, standing by Violet’s side.

Violet looked up at her for a second before glancing away, a small smile appearing on her lips.

“So, Omar, how long till dinnertime?” Louis tilted his head to try to peek into the pot.

Omar looked up from his prep. “It's gonna be a while. Maybe at least an hour, and no, Stew with Lou would not help,” Omar had seen the playful look in Louis’ eyes and wanted to stop it before he had to hear the classic spiel that Louis gave. Not that it was really that annoying… the first time. But after the amount of times Omar had heard all the variants of Stew With Lou from Louis, he figured he should try and space it out if he got the chance.

“Well in that case, Violet? I want to show you something before dinner back at our room,” Prisha’s words caused Violet to look up at her girlfriend with a confused expression.

“Okay, sure,”

Prisha reached down and gently intertwined her fingers with Violet while the pair made their way back to the dorms. When they had passed by Louis and Clementine, out of the corner of her eye Prisha could see both of their excited expressions and Louis giving a small thumbs up.

Violet and Prisha walked in silence through the halls. Prisha felt her heart race with each step that she took. She wasn’t sure whether her nervousness or excitement were stronger within her. She’ll like it... right? Prisha felt a small inkling of doubt appear in her mind.

“Prisha?”

She looked over to see Violet who seemed slightly concerned about her. Prisha gave a small smile.

“Sorry, just got lost in thought for a moment,” Prisha looked up and saw that they had arrived at their room. Stopping in front of the door, Prisha turned to look at Violet. “Okay, I need you to close your eyes.

Violet studied Prisha’s face for a few seconds.“I’m pretty fucking blind, but okay,” Violet closed her eyes. Prisha then opened the door before carefully grabbing both of Violet’s hands into her own. Steadily guiding her through the room, Prisha positioned Violet in front of the bunk beds. She took a quick second to make sure everything looked good. “Alright, you can open them,” Violet’s eyes slowly fluttered open. It took her a few seconds to see what the surprise was. But when she did her eyes widened in surprise. Her mouth was slightly open while her eyes traveled around to take in all of it.

“Louis helped me paint. He did the stars on the ceiling,” Prisha moved forward. “I did the ones by our bed. I know how much you miss seeing the stars at night. So I thought since we haven’t found a way to get your sight back yet, I would bring the stars to you.” Prisha watched as Violet silently made her way up on the bed and sat in front of the mural of stars that Prisha had painted. “I wanted to capture the beauty of the night sky and while I know it doesn’t compare to the actual thing, I hope-”

“Prisha,”

Prisha paused when she saw Violet’s hand reach out for her. Taking a place on the bed beside her, Prisha took her hand.

Violet was still busy staring at the stars when she spoke. One of her hands had touched the wall, brushing over the different stars. “Holy shit. I... You did this for me?” Violet looked over with slightly watery eyes.

“Of course,”

The two stared at each other for a minute when suddenly Violet reached her hands up and cupped Prisha’s face. Leaning in, she captured Prisha’s lips in a deep, loving kiss. Prisha felt her heart soar. Reaching up her hand, she placed it on Violet’s face and leaned further into the kiss. Right there in that moment it felt like she could melt into that kiss. Get lost in this feeling forever. She never wanted it to end.

After a while both of them pulled apart in need of some air. They looked at each with loving smiles while Prisha’s hand held onto Violet’s.

“Is it okay if we stay here for awhile?” Violet asked, rubbing the back of her neck while she looked over at her girlfriend.

“Sure,” Prisha looked at the smile on Violet’s face. It really had been worth every single second of struggle to see that rare bright smile that Violet had.

The two lay down and faced the wall. Prisha’s arm gently wrapped around Violet who curled up beside her. Violet’s hand reached up and intertwined with Prisha’s caressing the side of it as Violet stared at the wall. A warm smile appeared on her lips, her heart filled with happiness. “I love you,”

Violet’s words made Prisha’s heart skip a beat. There was no other feeling in this world that was quite like this. Nothing seemed to compare to it. The way that Violet made her feel, the peace and joy that having Violet in her life gave Prisha.

“I love you too,”

Prisha nuzzled her head against Violet as the two lay there, enjoying the moment, staring at the stars that Prisha placed in the sky for Violet.

[bittysvalentines]

Haus for the Holidays

From: @sexydexynurse

To: @tangotangredi

Summary:  Hausgiving with a Haus full of Frogs and Taddies is a bit different from previous years. Dex and Tango join forces to make it the best they possibly can to show their appreciation for their teammates and datemates.  Rating: T  I love everything you make for this fandom, so I hope that you enjoy this as a small way to give back to you. 

The early alarm wasn’t anything new. Sleeping in a different bed to keep from waking up his datemates when the early alarm went off wasn’t entirely unusual either. Pulling a giant turkey out of a bucket first thing in the morning? That was fairly unusual. 

Still, it had to be done. So, he pulled the bird out of the bucket and patted it down before settling it into the pan. Once it was in the oven, the oven was set to 500, and the timer was set to 30 minutes, he made it a little breastplate out of foil.

“Hey Dex.” Tango’s greeting was cut off by a yawn and Dex had to focus to keep from yawning in return. 

“Hey. You gonna start on the Pane Sciocco first?”

“Who you calling sciocco? I’m not stupid.”

Dex rolled his eyes while Tango smiled. “Did you pick this kind of bread just so you could keep making that joke?”

“No. It’s a good bread. And one of the few things I’m good at baking.” 

Dex snorted. Tango was a perfectly fine baker. Even when he did something weird, he got lucky and it worked out somehow. Someone just managed to convince him that he wasn’t as good as he was.

“I just didn’t tell you that most people outside of Tuscany call it Pane Toscano so that I could make the joke.”

He stopped and stared at Tango. The timer going off shook him out of it and he pulled the turkey out to apply the breastplate and insert the probe thermometer, then turned the oven down to 350.

“You cook turkey weird.”

“Whadya mean?”

“First, it’s in a bucket, now it’s in armor.” 

“It’s gonna taste good, though.” 

There was a pause. “The bucket makes it taste good?”

“The brine.”

Dex started pulling things out for prep. The pies were already ready, and the chocolate pie would stay in the refrigerator and be served chilled. The appetizers were all ready to go. Those could all be put on the kitchen table, out of the way, for now. He passed Tango his premade and formed pasta and his bread dough starter. Then he started piling things. Pre-prepped potatoes and sweet potatoes, the ingredients for green bean casserole, cranberry relish, wild rice dressing, a roast, and the rest of the stuff Tango needed for his baked two cheese rigatoni. 

Dex stared at the pile. Logically, he knew they’d planned on how to get everything ready on time. That’s why the potatoes were all pre-peeled and chopped. It’s why the pasta was rolled and the pies were made. It’s why they had three crock pots. But so many things still needed to cook. It was just Tony and him. And if he was honest, people probably expected them to fail. 

“How does the brine make the turkey taste good?”

Tango’s question stopped the train of self doubt. He and Tango had this. If people expected them to fail, those people were about to learn a thing or two. 

“So, like chemistry and biology right?” 

Tango nodded while he stirred yeast into water and then started helping Dex sort the ingredients for side dishes while Dex explained how salt helped break down the proteins in the meat and kept them from contracting and squeezing all the juice out.

“Now, some chefs say it makes the turkey watery rather than juicy, but.” He paused and shrugged. “Been making it with Alton Brown’s recipe for years and it tastes good to me.”

Dex paused to get the roast into a crock pot and cooking, and by the time he was done, Tango’s yeast water was foamy. Tango started working on the bread in earnest while Dex transferred the potatoes and sweet potatoes into their own crock pots. 

Three days before, Nursey had shown up with two extra crock pots that he said were on loan from friends. Dex decided not to question it considering they weren’t in boxes and he <em>had</em> spent a day the week before considering the pros and cons of installing a second oven in the Haus. (He talked himself out of it when he decided that, probably, once Tango graduated, no one would use the oven they already had).

After the crock pots were slow cooking the potatoes and roast, and the bread was set aside to rise, Dex and Tango took a moment to stretch. Then Dex’s phone went off. It was actually lucky that it went off then, because he’d just washed his hands and could answer without getting anything dirty. 

“Something important?”

“Last of the RSVPs. Looks like other than the seven of us who live here-”

“Does Cait actually live here?”

Dex tossed his head to indicate it didn’t matter. 

She was there most of the time. The only reason he didn’t consider Matt to live there was that the Taddies had agreed that the Haus was Whiskey’s space to be with Ford and Tango. Whiskey visited him across the street. 

“Other than us, Matt, Hops, Bully, and Louis and his datemate, we are going to have four Spawn. We’ll have to do a kiddie table for them.” 

“Your table isn’t big enough?”

“Nah, it’ll fit twelve in a pinch, but there’s no way sixteen will be comfortable to eat.”

“Is sixteen not good? You look weird.”

Dex considered making a self-deprecating joke, but stopped himself. “It’s fine. I just hoped more would come. We invited the whole team, but half had already made other plans. I just want everyone to feel like they’re equally included.”

“I get it.” Tango held out a fist. “We’re gonna make the best Hausgiving dinner yet for our teammates and datemates.” 

Dex bumped Tango’s fist with a small smile. “Ayuh. We are gonna do that.” 

<hr>

Dex and Tango didn’t cook together every day. Sometimes they traded off, sometimes they were on roadies. Sometimes everyone just had plans. But they’d cooked together often enough over the past three months that they quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm, even with the more complicated menu for the holiday. 

When the TV turned on to the parade, that was a clear signal that it had hit 9 AM. They both stopped to wash their hands again because it meant other Hausmates were awake. Dex wasn’t at all surprised when Whiskey and Ford were the first two into the kitchen, briefly fitting themselves around Tango for hugs and kisses. Dex <em>was</em> surprised when the next person through the door was Nursey, who quickly enveloped him in a hug up against the counters. 

Dex allowed himself to melt into Nursey’s embrace. Until Nursey pulled away suddenly with a gasp.

“Chill!”

Dex furrowed his brow and followed Nursey’s gaze to see Ford spinning a tea towel to prepare to snap it. 

“Stop using affection to distract your boyfriend so that you can steal food and you won’t get snapped.” 

Dex widened his eyes and looked at Nursey in faux shock. “You were just using me to get to my food?! Cait! Come collect your boyfriend.”

Cait suddenly appeared and leaned in for a kiss on Dex’s cheek before linking arms with Nursey. “He’s my boyfriend now, huh?”

“Ayuh. I don’t have any boyfriends that would use me just to get to my food. So he must be yours.”

“Dex!” 

“Can’t be my boyfriend. I don’t have any boyfriends who would try to circumvent me when I’m on guard duty. Must be Chris’s boyfriend.” 

“C! Do you hear this?” 

Dex looked over Nursey and Cait’s shoulders to see Chowder walking out of the kitchen.

“Just because you’re still my boyfriend doesn’t mean you get any of the stuffed mushrooms. I get them because I’m a good boyfriend who stayed out of the kitchen.”

“C!”

Nursey and Cait followed him out of the kitchen and Ford started heading towards the door also, giving Tango’s hand one last squeeze. 

“You guys are so weird.”

Dex ignored Whiskey’s mumble. It was accurate, after all.

“How did he get the mushrooms if he didn’t come into the kitchen?”

“Goalie powers.” 

“Oh.” Tango nodded. “What do we need to do now?”

“Right.” Dex turned back towards the food so they could regroup. “The cranberry relish is pretty much ready.” 

He looked at it and then stirred a bit where Nursey had scooped out a bite. At least Nursey hadn’t used his finger directly in the food this time.

“I don’t want to start the stuff for the rigatoni until it’s close to when it will go in the oven so it doesn’t separate or get weird.”

“That makes sense. The dough still needs to rise, right? I think that can go in right after we pull the turkey, so it has some time to rest also. We should check the potatoes and sweet potatoes. Then,” he paused and looked around with a sigh. “Um, I guess then I can start on the gravy and we just need to prep the green bean casserole and the dressing.” 

“What if they eat all the appetizers and want more?”

Dex looked over at Tango slowly. “If they eat all the appetizers, they’ll have to wait until we serve the meal like the rest of us, Tony.” 

<hr>

The thing about cooking for Hausgiving is, there’s a lot of work, but there’s also down time because there’s a lot of waiting for things to cook. But it wasn’t safe to leave the kitchen, either. So, it was lucky that Dex and Tango enjoyed spending the wait time together. 

Once everything was prepped or made that could be before the turkey came out, they sat at the kitchen table and played cards while chatting. Tango had a lot of things he was interested in knowing, and sometimes Dex had answers. He was more than willing to explain the difference in strength qualities of types of wood (which ones were stronger on a horizontal force like for shelves versus which were stronger with a vertical force like for posts) or how the electrical components of a dryer work. 

A little after they heard the tv change from the parade to the dog show, Hops managed to lean around Ford and stick his head in the door, not actually entering the room but highly supervised.

“Hey, do you want me to turn it to the Vikings game, Dex? I know you like football.”

Dex looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Do I <em>look</em> like Johnson?”

“Who?” The question was in near perfect sync from both Tango and Hops.

He shook his head. It would be too difficult to explain the weird goalie that he’d only met briefly. “No. Leave it on the dogs. I think Nursey and Cait are watching and I want to see how the Newfs do in the working group.”

Hops smiled. “Ok!” Then he was gone. 

Dex decided to take the interruption as a chance to check the turkey temp. They were hoping for a 2 pm meal time, and the turkey would need to rest before carving. Plus there were still things that needed to bake, and not all at the same temp.

“Looks like it’s nearly at temp. The Pane Sciocco starts at 450, right? Is it ready to go in?”

“Yeah. Ok.” 

<hr>

The next couple of hours seemed to go by faster. Checking dishes, getting the oven to the right temp and changing what was cooking, making sure everything was ready to serve. Dex tried to go out and set the tables, but Ford and Cait blocked him in the kitchen and said it was taken care of, so he backed off with his hands up in surrender.

“Final headcount is sixteen.”

“It’s taken care of. Worry about your green beans.”

“Ayuh. Green beans. That’s me. Jolly Green Giant.”

Nursey’s voice was somewhat muffled by the intervening wall, but still audible. “Grumpy Ginger Giant!”

Dex rolled his eyes, but did go back to do another check on if the food was ready. They’d decided that it made more sense to use the kitchen table as a serving table rather than have people reach over each other to try to get food on the main table. 

Finally, Ford and Cait let them out of the kitchen and Dex double checked the dining room before calling everyone to eat. The table was…. It was beautiful. There was really no other way to describe it. Someone had managed to squeeze in one of the card tables on the side of the room with an extra four settings. Somehow, they had 16 place settings of the same dishes and cutlery so everything matched. There were small candles and flowers and stuff as centerpieces. 

He wasn’t sure what to say, but he was sure he should say something because Chowder was watching him with big eyes. “This is really nice. It’s perfect.” 

Chowder fist pumped and grinned while Whiskey and Bully quietly fist bumped behind him. 

“I’d like to say something before we get the food.” 

Dex turned at Tango’s words to see the rest of the group crowding into the room behind him. He shifted around so that people would have more space if they wanted to spread out.

“I think, Thanksgiving was built on lies and shitty stuff.” He paused and glanced at Ford and Nursey who both nodded slightly. “But Hausgiving. Hausgiving is different. It’s our own holiday and it’s built on team, family, friends. It really is built on sharing and trust. I hope we keep doing this.” He paused and smiled. “And I hope you all like my Nanna’s Pane Sciocco.” 

“Don’t call me stupid!” Lucky, one of the Spawn, piped up from a corner. 

“Hey! That’s my joke!”

Dex couldn’t help himself from joining in the rest with a quick laugh at Tango’s indignation of having his Italian joke used against him. He stood back and waited for everyone else to get their food before joining the end of the line.

It was a good team. A good family. He was lucky to have them. And next year’s Hausgiving was going to be in good hands.

[cee693]

Give us bread, Give us salt, Give us wine.

Cee693

 @allaboutmybucks: Barry and Iris spending time together before impending Crisis. I think I'll make this request a two-parter with the next one being a tiny bit less angsty.

In the end, the true state of their feelings wouldn’t be found in in the grand gestures. It wasn't in the breakfasts that had started overflowing with his favorite foods since he’d returned from Earth-3. It wasn't in the luxurious trips around the world. Trips that had them both ignoring the fact that most of the places they went to were from a list they’d compiled two years ago as an Anniversary Bucket List.

It wasn't in the proclamations and declarations of undying love.

It was in the little things.

It was in the touches, the hand holding that was a bit too tight. A goodbye kiss that was a second too long. It was in Barry’s breath catching when some budget forms arrived on his desk at work. He was supposed to fill in his request for the next fiscal year. Which began December 10th, 2019.

It was in Iris hitting ‘unsubscribe’ after receiving her routine alert from her pharmacy to go in for her next three-month supply of birth control pills.

It was in Barry getting into the habit of putting on their record player and getting Iris to dance around the kitchen with him while he cooked them dinner.

It wasn’t something he normally did. They’d danced around their kitchen more times than they could count, but it was usually after dinner or in a spontaneous burst in the day.

Mostly, because Barry was mindful of keeping his wife away from any open flames or boiling pots.

Iris’s track record in the kitchen was… not great. That’s why Barry tried to always have dinner ready to go after work so there was no chance of her getting involved.

But, that week, Iris had come home from work and greeted Barry over the blare of the upbeat record spinning and he hurried to kiss her before twirling her in his arms and sliding her into his work space.

The first time it happened they'd laughed so hard and danced for so long, Iris had to tag in and help him finish cooking so that they could eat before midnight.

The following night, Iris came home to the same sight: Barry happy and singing to music. This time with a bottle of wine chilled and ready for her. Iris kissed him soundly because that glass was exactly what she needed after the day she had.

Unfortunately, their bottle opener was mysteriously vanished so Barry asked her season and baste the roast he had in the oven while he ran out and got a new one.

By the time he returned (suspiciously long for a speedster), dinner was finished and ready to be served.

The next few days were the same and the two of them settled into a nice little routine of cooking and dancing.

Iris didn’t know what brought on Barry’s sudden good mood, but she didn’t question it. She loved seeing Barry like this: all care-free and happy.

Since his trip to Earth-3, Barry took care to carve out time, just the two of them, but she really appreciated that this last week there was no sense of dread in their time together only joy.

And the fact that he was like this with an apron on, sleeves rolled up his forearms as he snuck her bites of food was also incredibly sexy.

She couldn’t resist one night pressing up against him and kissing him sensually. She meant for it to be a quick kiss, but Barry had her up on the counter in seconds.

“Wait,” she pulled back after several minutes of being carried away. “The food's gonna burn.”

Barry shook his head and kissed her again. “Chicken's still marinating. Trick is to add baking soda and let it sit. It tenderizes the meat." Of course he said that last part with extreme innuendo as he kissed the side of her neck.

She liked it when he talked food. As much as she called him a nerd, anytime he flexed his intelligence, it was a huge turn-on for her.

She said as much another night when he swayed them in time to Nat King Cole right in front of the oven. Iris mentioned that the warmth coming from it was divine and Barry whispered that the 375° was just about the perfect temperature for anything.

To Barry’s credit, it took her almost two weeks to realize what he was doing.

And at first it stopped her in her tracks and knocked the air from her lungs.

She’d gotten home from work early and had just texted Barry to let him know when the lightbulb just randomly went off.

She went over the last two weeks of dinnertime in her head and when her suspicion was confirmed she locked herself in her office and cried until the sun went down.

By the time Barry came home, she pulled herself together and dried her eyes, but she resolved to not step foot out her office until tonight’s meal was on the table ready to be eaten.

Iris heard the front door open and close, then the shower run for a few seconds before she heard him back in the kitchen rumbling around.

When Billie Holiday began wafting through the loft, Iris correctly anticipated Barry coming to her.

He knocked on her door and she sluggishly got up to let him in.

"Hey," Barry greeted happily as he entered her office. He leaned down and kissed her sweetly. "How was your day."

"It was fine," Iris responded delicately. "How was yours?"

“Eh. Long. I missed you. I picked up some chicken and shrimp for alfredo? That sound okay?”

“Sure. That's great thank you.”

"Want to come out?” He asked.

"No."

"We could pop open that bottle of red we got from the Uco Valley. Best in the world."

"No. Sorry, I'm busy,” Iris responded, half-heartedly holding up the first magazine she touched.

Barry deflated a little. “Iris. I haven't seen you all day.”

She sighed and felt a bit bad. "I guess I can work at the dining table."

Iris grabbed her laptop and a notebook and followed Barry out to the living room. She settled at the dining table and let him get to work in the kitchen.

Of course tonight, though, Barry seemed to be having a bit of trouble in the kitchen.

"Damn it," he muttered a third time. Pots clanked and there was a definite sound of something spilling on the floor.

Still, Iris resisted the urge to take pity on him and ask him what was wrong. She knew in reality it was nothing at all.

Barry was a terrible liar, but he always gave valiant performances.

"Hey, I'm sorry,” he called out to her minutes later. “I know you're busy but could you help me grab the cream in the fridge? My hands are full."

If she wasn’t so angry, Iris would have been a little disappointed that that was the best he could come up with. She thinks for that lie to be believable she's supposed to pretend that he's not the fastest man alive.

She sighed and stood up. "How much cream?"

Barry nodded to the ipad on the counter. "Recipe's over there."

Iris scowled a bit and peeked at the tablet before she went to the fridge and checked. "We're all out."

"Oh really?" Barry exclaimed, voice higher than normal. “Darn.”

Iris stifled an eye-roll at the bad acting.

"Well, we could make a substitute for cream. Could you grab some milk and some butter? Just measure out a fourth of butter and three-

Iris huffed in frustration and slammed the fridge door.

"-I know what you're doing, so just stop it," she demanded.

Barry blinked and halted his chopping. "What?"

"I know what you've been doing, Barry," she repeated. "Putting out music and wine and finding any way to pull me into the kitchen. Pretending that you can't literally do all of this by yourself in seconds. Whispering off little culinary facts in passing."

"You've been teaching me how to cook," she accused.

"What? No, I haven't!" Barry exclaimed. He tried to sound confused and offended, but he was turning really red.

"Yes, you have!" she fumed.

Tears pricked her eyes. "Why though? Do you want to make sure I don't burn the loft down when you're not around to cook anymore?"

Her voice broke and she looked down, trying hard not to break again. "Is this your way of trying to prepare me for a life of dinners alone?"

Barry put down his knife and turned off the stove. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"I just … I'm sorry. I just wanted to give you some pointers that I knew you would remember," he admitted guiltily.

Iris's chin quivered. "You manipulated me."

"I'm sorry," he said again sincerely.

"I knew you wouldn't want to learn if I told you why."

"Yeah, well you're right about that," Iris sniffed, upset. She went to the dining table to pack up her stuff.

"Iris, wait. Please. I just don't know what to do anymore," he told her desperately. "I'm just at a dead end."

Iris whipped around and glared at him for his very poor choice of words.

Barry sighed, frustrated with himself. He tried again "I'm sorry. I am. I know that this wasn't really fair to you. I just want… I need to know that you'll be okay after Crisis. And part of that is making sure you eat."

Iris turned back around to the table.

"That's not something you can control though is it?" she asked weakly, unwilling to face the look in his eyes. Unable to face the words he was saying.

She didn't want this.

She didn't want to talk about this or think about it and she was angry this was in fact what the last few nights have been about.

Happy memories now tainted by their morbid ulterior motive. Everything in their lives touched by this death sentence.

"I don't know what else I'm supposed to do," Barry whispered tearfully. "I… I can't think of you here alone not eating, or only getting by on takeout or tv dinners for one."

Nausea flooded her stomach at the thought. But, he wasn't wrong.

That was her future.

That's what life would be without her husband. Without a child.

Just her. Here alone. No one to break bread with. No one to come home to after a long day. No one with a glass of wine or a tray of brownies waiting for her.

Just solitude.

A sob ripped through her and Barry was at her side in an instant, pulling her close and profusely apologizing.

“I'm sorry, please don't cry,” he begged. “I made a mistake.”

Iris wrestled free from him. "As much as you feel that it's not a choice to die, when you do things like this it seems like it is. It seems calculated and thought-out and it feels like a choice you're making every day.”

“I didn’t want to do this. And it’s not fair that you planned this,” she said, upset. “It's out of your hands. You've accepted what the Monitor said and you’re leaving, but please, don’t try to tie up the loose ends Crisis is leaving behind into a nice little bow.”

“Iris, that’s not-”

She swallowed nausea and just left her stuff where they were. “-I’m going to bed. You should take your time cleaning up before you come upstairs.”

Barry took the hint to give her space and he let her go.

Iris took a long hot shower before she climbed into bed completely exhausted.

It was quiet now.

Ms. Holiday’s voice had ceased.

Iris heard the vague sound of a good bit of glass crashing somewhere downstairs and she was almost grateful for the sound of Barry’s anger.

After weeks of subdued acceptance, it was refreshing to hear signs of emotion in her husband.

And then it was quiet again.

She figured it was over an hour before Barry finally trudged up the stairs and into their bedroom. He creeped by her to the bathroom and she heard him brush his teeth and change for bed.

When he slid in beside her, Iris was still clearly wide awake.

She didn't turn around and Barry didn't expect her to.

He didn’t try to talk to her and Iris didn’t expect him to.

But, his arm slid around her waist at the exact moment she reached behind her to pull him close.

Because, regardless of if they had a choice or not, these were their last days together. And they would spend every one of them side by side.

Iris rocked back and forth in her chair at the Citizen berating herself again and again.

She felt like the biggest hypocrite. She was filled with so much anger and there was no one to be blamed for it. None of this was fair.

Her husband was selfless and good. Everything he did, he did with her in mind.

Barry had done nothing wrong two nights ago.

He certainly hadn't done anything she hadn't done in the past.

She had tried that a few times. Tried to get her affairs in order. Tried to leave instructions for Barry that she knew he would need after Savitar killed her.

After Kadabra's offer went unaccepted and Barry's trip to the future came up short, Iris had bought a label maker and went to town around the apartment, putting up little reminders and facts for her fiancé. Like the Wi-Fi password he could never remember and the best times to go to the farmer's market for the sweetest peaches.

And, though she kept it tucked under her side of the mattress, she'd even began keeping a notebook marking down which of her things should be donated to which charities.

She thought she'd done a good thing.

Thought she was making the future easier for him. Until she came home from work and found all her labels torn off and ripped up and the label maker and her secret notebook dumped in the trash.

When she confronted Barry about why he'd done that, she saw that he was very, very upset, but was trying hard to reel it in.

His voice was shaking when he told her that all of that wasn't necessary. If he needed the Wi-Fi password he would just ask her. And that they'd agreed to never let him go to the farmer's market alone again after the Peony Debacle.

He didn't even acknowledge the notebook. Just demanded that she never do anything like this again. And then he left the house and only returned several hours later.

Iris never wanted to look back on those dark, dark months leading up to her supposed murder. She never wanted to revisit the fucked up headspaces she and Barry were forced into for five months. Least of all with a twisted sense of longing. But, that's where she was now.

What happened three years ago and what was happening now are two sides of the same coin, but the way they were being handled couldn't be more different.

Back then there was fire.

There was anger.

There were slammed doors and passionate declarations of resistance.

There was unwavering belief in defiance and blood oaths of protection.

No matter what loop they were thrown, Barry never lost faith that she would somehow survive. Not one single moment. Not once in five long, grueling months.

And when Iris wavered, when she wasn't so sure herself, Barry shouldered her pain and he found faith enough for the both of them.

But, that was then.

Back when there were flames. Back when there was fight.

Now? Now it's just quiet.

Just unceasingly quiet.

It had only taken Barry two days to lose all hope. To accept complete defeat. To accept death.

Two. Days.

And she was pushed to do the same.

Well, the truth was that she didn't. She didn't accept his death. She never would.

But she couldn't fight fate. So where did that leave her?

In silence.

That's all there was now.

Barry's silence was submission, but hers was seething. It was storming. With no hope for an outlet. Because the hero had already accepted demise.

The silence was deafening. It was demoralizing. And now it was made even thicker by their argument.

Iris scoffed and sat up. If she couldn’t fight the world than she would put her energy into something she could control. There were victories still to be found in the everyday. And if that’s all she could have, she’d fight like hell to claim them.

Barry sighed miserably as he cleaned up and locked down his lab for the night.

As far as he knew, there were no pressing Flash duties at Star Labs so he could just go home. But, he didn't know if he should just yet. There was a chance Iris was still at work and he didn't want to hang around the quiet apartment without her there.

And if she was home already, he was hesitant to do the awkward dance they'd been doing the last few days.

It was a blend of having stilted conversation and clinging to each other.

It was exhausting. And it wouldn't sustain them much longer, but he couldn't find their way out.

Crisis was inevitable. It was coming.

And the two of them would never agree on what needed to be done.

No matter how much she bit her tongue, Barry knew how Iris truly felt about him accepting his destiny. That's why he knew he had to lie to try and prepare her for a small part of life without him there.

And she had every right to feel the way she did.

He was in her shoes not long ago. He'd never forget the feeling of that sucking hole in your chest when you're facing the death of your soulmate.

Barry rubbed his eyes roughly. He’d go home. There was no sense in avoiding Iris. No matter what storm they were facing, it would be together.

He locked the door to his lab just as his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and saw a message from Iris.

Meet me at Jitters when you’re off..

He was out CCPD and outside of the coffeehouse in seconds.

It was late. Jitters was already closed for the night and there was no one inside. Which made him apprehensive.

Why had Iris called him here? Was something wrong? Was she alright?

He phased through the doors and looked around.

It was pitch black, save for a dim light coming from the back. “Iris? Are you in here?”

Hurried steps came from the kitchen and he sighed in relief when he saw his wife come around to the front counter.

“Oh! Hey, I wasn’t expecting you so quickly. I thought you were still at work.”

“I packed up early,” he explained coming closer. “What’s up? Everything alright?”

She looked calm and in one piece. She was drying her hands on a small towel and when he got close enough he saw that she was wearing an apron.

“What are you doing?”

“Everything’s fine,” Iris assured. “I just thought these industrial grade stoves and fire system would be a safer bet than our kitchen.”

“Safer for what?” he wondered uneasily.

“I made us dinner,” she told him simply.

“You cooked? Dinner?” Barry repeated, dumbfounded. He didn’t know what he thought this meeting was about but it definitely wasn’t that.

Now that his attention was there, though, he did smell savory richness coming from the kitchens.

Iris nodded. “Yeah.”

Barry could see that she was still somewhat- not defensive, but on guard. Cautious.

He didn’t want to question if that meant she understood where he was coming from last week just in case that wasn’t the case.

“Wow. That’s- that’s really great! I’m sure it’s great. Thank you,” he smiled softly.

Iris gestured for him to grab a seat at the counter. “I didn’t think you’d be out of work so early, so there’s still a few minutes left until the food’s ready.”

“That’s no problem at all.”

Iris studied his face before she sighed and looked down.

She reached over and grabbed the bottle of wine she’d chilled and poured them each a tall glass.

It was the bottle of red they’d gotten from Argentina. It tasted like heaven. And, though it wouldn’t have a huge effect on Barry, it helped ease the tension in both of their shoulders.

“This is perfect,” Iris moaned as the hints of berry and clove slid down her throat.

“Good choice,” Barry agreed, impressed.

“Oh!” Iris suddenly remembered. “I almost forgot.”

She hurried to the back and returned with a large platter. “Some hors d'oeuvres. I made broiled oysters.”

Barry's brows shot up. “Did you really?”

Iris shrugged. "I think I was being spiteful making something so dramatic," she admitted. "The main course isn't nearly as fancy though."

She came around the counter with the large platter and set it down between them.

Barry lifted the lid and saw that she had in fact made oysters. And they smelled and looked amazing.

"This looks incredible," he complimented with wonder.

"Try one," Iris told him.

Barry only hesitated briefly (as great as it looked, he had been on the receiving end of the adventurous side of Iris's cooking many times before) before he slid a shell off the plate and downed it.

"Holy shit, that's amazing," he exclaimed in disbelief. He looked at her excitedly. "Iris, this is amazing!"

Iris's was still a bit standoffish, but as he thanked her and tried two more oysters, her shoulders loosened and the smile on her face widened.

"Thanks," she said genuinely as she shrugged. "It was no big deal, I just followed a recipe."

By the time the oven timer went off, Iris had settled into the seat beside him and the two of them took turns polishing off the seafood.

She spent a few minutes in the kitchen this time and when she came back she was holding a very large pot. "Okay. Full disclosure, this took a few tries but I eventually got the hang of it."

She carefully put down the sizzling pan and uncovered it dramatically.

Barry was hit with the mouthwatering sight of chicken and shrimp Alfredo.

Barry grinned widely. “That’s my girl.”

“And I used butter and milk cause, funnily enough, somehow a coffeehouse was completely out of cream,” she teased.

Barry chuckled heartily and Iris joined in and soon they were laughing hard at such a simple joke, letting the tension of the week melt away.

Eventually, they gathered themselves and Barry helped Iris dish out the pasta.

She waited with bated breath as he took his first bite and smiled with relief when he told her with complete and utter seriousness that it was the best bite of food he’s ever had in his entire life.

And Barry was sure all was forgiven when she took his fork and fed him the rest of his plate, sneaking bites herself and catching up with him on her day.

By the time they took their last bites, Barry felt warm and stuffed. “That was the best meal I’ve ever had,” he said contently. “Thank you.”

“Glad you liked it,” she smiled. “I guess I can tuck that recipe away for future use.”

The mood sobered up some at the reminder of the future. Iris sighed painfully and sipped the last of her wine.

Barry gently cupped her cheek and turned her back to him. “I’m really sorry about before. You know I was just trying to help. Right?”

“I know,” Iris promised. “It’s just that this is all really hard. It’s more than it just being food, Barry.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “I know I can't cook very well. I know that. And when it was just me I really didn’t care too much to learn. But, I’ve always liked trying. For you.”

He knew that was true. Iris always cooked for them at Joe’s more out of a sense of duty to pull her weight and ease the stress on her working, single father.

She never cooked for Eddie. Never once felt the desire to. She dated him for over a year. She'd lived with him for five months. But, she only ever tried to cook for him once. He'd gotten run down with the flu and after a few days she thought maybe she ought to make him chicken noodle soup. She got as far as almost slicing her thumb clean off chopping up some carrots before she threw everything out and grabbed a takeout menu.

But, after she and Barry started dating and then especially after they got married, Iris loved cooking all sorts of meals for him. They never ended well, but Barry was an expert at making Iris think otherwise.

Barry Allen was the only man who could ever make Iris West want to spend hours huddled over a hot stove or a skillet and read over complex recipes until her eyes crossed.

“After all we’ve been through. After this life we’ve only just started together, it’s just supposed to go back to it just being me at the table?” Iris cried. “I’m just supposed to do normal, mundane things like this as if half of me isn’t gone? You’ll be gone, Barry. Who cares if the I’m living off pork rinds and gum. What the hell difference does it make?”

Barry wiped her tears before wiping his own. “You have to care, Iris. Because if you don’t it will be that much easier to lose the purpose in everything. Food will seem pointless, but then so will washing your face and pretty soon getting out of bed will be too much of a hassle. And who needs to go into work when you’re the boss? I know, I know exactly what my life would’ve been like if you weren’t there after I lost my parents. I saw what my life was like in the future after Savitar. That can’t be your life.”

He shook his head and put his hand right over her heart. “Everything I have. Everything I love is right here. The choice to keep this beating is mine. But, I won’t be here to protect it anymore. To take care of it. That’s only your choice. It’s a choice you have to make. And choosing to keep going in spite of all the pain that’s coming will be the hardest decision you’ll make. It will hurt like hell, but you have to do it. And if something as tiny as making yourself a plate of food after a harsh day is what keeps you going so you don’t collapse or shut down, then you have to do that too. You will have to take care of yourself even when it’s the last thing you’ll want to do. Especially then. I just wanted to try to find a way to help you do that.”

Iris closed her eyes, tears fell harder.

She was wrong. She was wrong before. Barry’s acceptance was full of fight.

Her husband was still full of fire.

Iris nodded. “I will. I’ll try to take care of myself. And I’ll try to stay on top of my meals. I promise.”

Iris felt the desperation ease from his grip. Felt the tension melt away in his exhale.

“Three times a day?” he asked when they separated. He hoped for a positive answer, but had no expectations.

After all this time neither of them had any illusions about the cost of grief. She knew the reality of what she could offer him.

“Once per day is going to be pretty lucky I think,” Iris told him, smiling sadly.

Barry swallowed despair at that. It was the truth. Still he tried to bargain up. “Two times.”

Iris sighed.

“One full meal and a snack,” he amended.

“One full meal and a snack,” she compromised.

He kissed her then, sealing the accord in love.

“I love you,” he said softly when they pulled away.

“I love you,” Iris responded.

She rested her head on his shoulder and Barry wrapped his arms around her tight pulling her as close to him as their bodies would allow.

The feel of her heart beating against his side lulled him. It was always the thing that would keep him breathing.

Several minutes later, something caught his eye on one of the counters. “Did you make those?”

He pointed to a pile of cookies sitting high on an ornate glass plate. They didn’t look like anything Jitters sold.

“Oh wow, yeah. I forgot about dessert,” Iris chuckled.

Barry sped over and grabbed them, sliding back into his seat before Iris could notice. “Let’s try some then.”

“Ooh, baby I would not eat those cookies if I were you,” Iris warned seriously. “I don't think they turned out right.”

Barry waved off her doubts. "All of this was perfect. I'm sure they're fine."

He smelled the cookie then took a big bite to show her he wasn’t worried. But, as soon as the dessert touched his tongue, he regretted it.

His eyes reflexively bulged and he stopped chewing for a second before his sense kicked in and he made his usual sounds of content. "Mmm see?! Delicious!"

The cookies were burnt to a crisp on the underside, but somehow chewy in the middle. And he was certain Iris had mixed up her salt and sugar again, but he powered through and finished the whole thing.

He subtly tried to gasp for breath to clear the taste of ash from the back of his throat. He knew reaching for a drink would give him away so he smiled down at her instead and smacked his lips.

“Wow, gr-great stuff,” he prayed his eye didn’t twitched from the bitterness.

Fortunately it didn’t.

Unfortunately, Iris looked so pleased with his enjoyment that she offered him three more cookies, picking out the biggest ones she could find.

Barry ate them each with a smile, washing down the rancid taste with the joy on his wife’s face.

“Maybe I can do the cooking for the rest of the week,” Iris suggested as they walked home a few hours later.

Before dessert, from the delicious meal she’d prepared he would’ve readily agreed. This was what he had wanted in the first place.

But, the thought of those god-awful cookies made his stomach roll. Depending on what she decided to cook, he might very well not even make it to Crisis.

Still, he thought as he squeezed her hand and took in her eager smile, if that was how he went- at home eating his warm meal across from this woman who he loved more than life itself- it would be the greatest honor.

He grinned and nodded his head in agreement at the offer.

“That would be wonderful,” he said sincerely.

[theunfinishedsong-nct]

Chapter 2

Friday, 9:16 PM

Ten minutes have already passed since we finished the last docket of orders, which means the next and hopefully final wave of dine-in guests will begin shortly. I have just finished cleaning up my station – I have removed the scattered bread crumbs and lettuce trimmings from the counter tops; I have washed my two chopping boards (white for breads, green for fruits and veggies), three different knives, and the insert tray for our toaster, among others. I have also washed my kitchen towels with laundry detergent. It’s a good thing I was able to finish my tasks quickly, since there are four other cooks who need to share the two kitchen sinks among them. We could also ask our dishwasher, Taemin hyung, to let us use the dishwashing machine. But when he’s too busy and loaded, we could just easily wash our stuff manually.

I took a moment to shake the stuck bread crumbs off my all-black chef’s uniform and apron, until I realized I haven’t drunk any amount of water in almost an hour, so I hurriedly grabbed my half-liter, violet water bottle from a shelf near the kitchen door as I went straight outside.

The relaxing aroma of freshly ground coffee beans being brewed by the barista-on-duty grew prevalent as I stepped closer to the bar area, which is also part of the main dining area. Only a wide, L-shaped counter serves as its “barricade” or “divider”. From here, I can see that most of the guests are still busy finishing their meals, while about ten people were still seated at the waiting area near the café entrance.

I took the aluminum ice scooper from a small, transparent plastic bucket beside the coffee machine, and then I bent over to the ice bin below. I poured a scoopful of ice into my wide-rimmed bottle, then I grabbed a pitcher of water to fill it almost up to the rim.

I could no longer wait to refresh my tired self, so I stood right on the spot, leaned my head backwards, closed my eyes, and gulped down a satisfying amount of my cold thirst quencher.

And as I opened my eyes, I was taken aback by what I just saw right before me.

I’ve never seen this one before, but he was definitely a sight to behold.

Damn, he is so good-looking.

My whole head was practically empty except for those few words. I found myself running out of better words to describe him as I felt my feet become frozen on the floor. For a moment, the whole environment basically became a grayish blur.

He stood about a meter away from me as he swiftly grabbed a couple of menus from the menu basket on the countertop. It took a while before it finally dawned on me that he is, in fact, an employee here. He then went towards the entrance and handed the menus over to the waiting guests.

His rich, dark hair was sleekly styled – it was brushed away from his forehead, save for a single lock hanging perfectly still right above his left eyebrow; his eyebrows looked rich as well. The apples of his cheeks were rosy pink even if he wasn’t wearing any hint of makeup… Except maybe for his glistening lips, which seemed like they had a very subtle tint of peachy-pink; I figured he must have used lip balm on them,  since they looked so… Juicy and delightful.

Who knows what flavor he used? Cherry? Strawberry? Of course, I am interested.

I noticed he was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves folded up to his forearms near the elbows – the color white being an indication that he is only a trainee. Regular dining employees wear light blue.

He had a name tag on, but he left too quickly before I got to even have a glimpse of what’s on it.

And now there’s my excuse to “ask” the others about him.

I held a sneaky smirk on my face as I walked away from the bar area. I headed back to the kitchen until I suddenly got stopped –

“Taeyong-ah! Can you grab a bunch of teaspoons for me, please?” Kyungsoo hyung called directly from the dispatch window. He needed to use the teaspoons as tasting spoons.

“Noted, hyung.”

This area right outside the kitchen – where Kyungsoo hyung can directly look out into – is the dining dispatch area. It connects the kitchen to the main dining area and bar area, but the guests do not get to have a peek into this area, since it is hidden by a wall. However, there are no doors here, just an opening, because it was made to be easily accessed by the dining staff – the bussing area, cutlery drawers, and condiment shelves are all here, and the office is in here as well.

I checked the cutlery drawers below the dispatch window – they are almost empty, save for some bread knives and appetizer spreaders.

The dining staff can also use this area to wipe cutleries that come fresh and hot from the dishwashing machine. They have to be wiped one by one with a clean towel to make sure they’re all free from any possible remaining food particles. When they do this, they use this gray, multi-compartment cutlery tray to organize the cutleries per type. Since it is portable, it does not have a permanent placement, so it could be here; it could also be in the bar area.

I turned around as I scanned the area to look for that cutlery tray.

It was not on top of the ice chest freezer.

It was nowhere to be found near the bussing area.

It was not even there on the counter top by the dispatch window.

So maybe it’s in the bar area. I’ll just go there, no problem.

Just when I was about to approach the opening going to the bar area, the guy from a while ago suddenly walked straight towards the chest freezer, just right past me. He didn’t notice me at all. He seemed so busy… Well, of course he is.

He was carrying the cutlery tray.

He placed it on top of the chest freezer, and then he turned towards the bussing area.

“Excuse me, hyung… Do you still have more cutleries there?” He shyly asked Taemin hyung.

I peeked into the cutlery tray – there are several teaspoons in there… Just what I needed.

I started debating with myself – should I sneakily grab the teaspoons then run back into the kitchen?

I’m too scared and nervous to interact with him for now. What if he notices me?

Or should I stand with pride, walk with my chin up, and just confidently take the teaspoons? I am a senior employee here, after all.

Taemin hyung took out a large stainless mixing bowl and placed it onto the surface of the bussing window.

The guy raised both his arms to take the bowl – they seemed heavy because it was full of cutleries. He then bowed towards Taemin hyung and thanked him softly.

I instantly noticed how a few veins suddenly appeared on his forearms as he flexed them to carry the large bowl… And that’s not it.

Even his biceps peeked a bit through the sleeves of his white shirt.

I snapped out as I finally decided to run towards the cutlery tray to grab the teaspoons like they were some kind of a hidden treasure.

Of course, he was already on his way to this spot. But it will take him about ten steps, and I thought the weight of the bowl would slow him down just a bit.

And maybe it did.

I did not just run back – I sprinted back into the kitchen. The teaspoons are still complete in my clenched left hand, while some droplets of water from my cold bottle seeped through the fingers on my right hand.

I peeked into the small window of the kitchen door - he has already placed the large bowl beside the cutlery tray. I hope he didn’t notice me.

With a heavy sigh, I felt relieved that no one noticed what I just did. I’m almost breathless right now. It was such a simple task, yet I made it unnecessarily complicated.

I returned my water bottle back to its respective spot on the shelf. I proceeded to walk towards Kyungsoo hyung, and I dropped the handful of teaspoons into the clean 1/9 insert pan in front of him. I then took a deep breath…

"The new guy, hyung... Who is he?" I asked Kyungsoo hyung.

He made some kind of an evil smirk on his face. He gave me a quick glare, then he leaned his head towards the dispatch window.

"Jaehyun-ah! Come here!”

The guy didn’t even hesitate to pause his task for this moment – he immediately went to the front of the dispatch window.

“You haven't been introduced to each other, right? You haven't met him, right?”

I wanted to grab Kyungsoo hyung by the arm, and drag him away from here. Now.

“Jeong Jaehyun, meet one of our senior chefs, Lee Taeyong!"

Wait.

What?

Whoa.

That was too fast.

Fast yet smooth.

The guy bowed down, then he stretched his right hand out to me while leaning close to the dispatch window.

"Ugh, wait. This is embarrassing. My hand is still wet." I hurriedly pulled a sheet of paper towel from the nearby dispenser. Both of my hands are now shaking subtly as I wiped my right hand. I must have certainly looked stupid.

I then bowed back, grabbed his hand and gave him an awkward handshake.

"Hi, I'm Taeyong. Nice to meet you... Jaehyun?" I said to him as I flashed an even more awkward smile.

"Nice one, hyung..." I thought.

"Hey, someone's got really soft hands," he looked at Kyungsoo hyung and my other co-workers with his sparkly eyes. I almost didn’t notice that we’re being watched by my colleagues, almost like a K-drama scene unfolding before their eyes.

This dude has the audacity to show off his annoyingly adorable smile on his face. He even has not one, but TWO dimples, streaming down on both his cheeks. And he’s totally flexing them at me right now. He's just really cool about our meeting, and I’ve never felt this dumb before.

And it’s been eight seconds – we still haven’t let go of each other. Eight. Freaking. Long. Seconds.

He’s not letting go of my hand, and I’m not letting go of his. Who is gonna be the one?

I was left frozen, staring blankly at Kyungsoo hyung.

Then I finally thought it was time to let go before my face turns into a tomato.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around," I said, as if I was too busy. Well, I was not too busy, but I know he definitely is. We haven’t received any new orders in the kitchen, so I’m still good for a while.

“Alright, see you later,” he replied; he was still showing off his dimples. He then turned towards Kyungsoo hyung – “please excuse me, sunbaenim. I have to go back outside,” and bowed yet again.

Kyungsoo hyung fixed his eyes on me, and gave me that evil look again. I pouted at him as I showed my sad puppy eyes.

"Hyung, I feel so embarrassed," I whispered, but he just deliberately ignored me.

Jaehyun was not yet out of our sight when my mischievous hyung loudly blurted out something that made me want to completely disappear from this planet right now.

"Ah, Taeyong likes Jaehyun!"  

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 27

“If that little shit says code fucking red one more time; I swear I’m gonna—“

“Woah, woah, woah; Lo! Cool your jets.” Soothes Steve, though at this rate I’d settle at punching him unconscious.

If it wasn’t enough that I spent a weeks worth of pay checks on diced beef, because despite having a wallet that cost more than my entire wardrobe, someone forgot to bring his allowance; I now was having to deal with all the joys of working with a twelve year old boy.

Sorry; thirteen, as he keeps reminding me.

Thank god Eleven was a girl!

But at least we had some semblance of a plan now; Steve’s BMW parked in the woods at the start of our carnivorous crumb trail that would eventually lead to the junkyard.

Steve popped the trunk of his car; rubber gloves already on hands, because of course; the pretty boy couldn’t get his hands bloody.

The scent of blood and death was strong within; the result of nearly ten pounds worth of prized sirloin chopped in buckets, because according to the little shit; his ex-pet was a fussy eater.

Steve did the honours; hauling out two heaping buckets of meat which were already beginning to smell thanks to the heat of the car.

“Jesus, Lola; do we really need this much meat? He asked; his nose wrinkled in disgust.

Apparently I’d forgotten that a pampered trust fund teen like Steve probably never even had to wash dishes; let alone do any meal prep with raw meat.

“Shut up and unload the trunk.” I ordered; not willing to take any of his crap.

It had been his damn idea to put his faith in the wild imaginations of a thirteen year old, not mine.

I would’ve been more than happy to stay at Charlie’s and finish fixing Marty’s truck, then go out with Bil—

Shit! I’d almost forgot!

Billy would be coming to pick me up in a couple of hours, and I was currently about to start traipsing through mulch and animal shit, spreading the contents of a corpse with Steve and some weird kid.

Of all the fucking excuses I could be giving him; this one really took the whole damn pie!

Even if I did manage to make it back in time; he’d never believe me.

Not even when I stunk like a butchers shop and felt half as dead.

Steve was gonna fucking owe me for this—

“Lo; you still with me?” Steve asked; breaking through my mental rant to try and play the reasonable friend, and I wanted to fucking read him out, because I’d lost out on a good damn night for this and maybe even lost my chance at being with Billy for good; but fuck, Steve didn’t know that.

And I couldn’t blame him; not really.

“Nothing. Just forgot if I’d left the stove on.” I replied; the absurdity of that statement going straight over Steve’s pretty head as he pulled his rucksack out of the boot, alongside several cans of gasoline, unknowingly kindly donated by Charlie’s auto repairs.

Steve pulled out his nailbat; a post-apocalyptic beast of a thing that actually had belonged to Jonathan, before it was valiantly commandeered by Steve in the demogorgon attack last year.

Now it seemed the enigmatically named nailbat man was to make a reappearance; all for the sake of avenging some dumb kid’s cat and a half eaten candy bar.

I, however, liked to keep things more practical; having made time to stop home during our little errand to pick up a most vital supply.

I pulled out my dad’s sawn off shotgun from the trunk; making sure this baby was loaded with the finest buckshot, before cocking it.

Steve can wave round that little tennis racket as much as he liked; meanwhile I’d blow this bitch to smithereens with pure homegrown American lead.

Steve looked at it with a mixture of apprehension and awe, still not comfortable with me bringing a loaded weapon, despite me having learnt how to shoot before I could even drive.

He’d get over it.

Fuck; he might even be thankful once we bring this overgrown slug down without even breaking a sweat.

I let him slam the trunk closed, and by the sounds of it, E.T. was finally done phoning home; Dustin pushing down that ridiculous antenna at last, before the Venusians tried to contact us on it.

“You gonna actually help any time today kid, or is your plan just to play operator whilst we do the real work?” I queried; picking up the first of the heavy metal buckets in front of me.

“Alright, alright; hold your fucking horses. I’m coming.” The kid placated, and maybe I should’ve said something about the language, but then again; I wasn’t exactly a saint, and I wasn’t the kid’s mother, so why the fuck should I care?

Instead, I stood back as he picked up the lightest of the buckets, leaving the heaviest for Steve, but you know what; let him.

It was Steve’s damn sympathies that got us into this mess; so let’s see him feel so sympathetic when he’s done spreading meat for the next two hours.

———————————————————

So maybe playing pied piper to a B movie creature feature wasn’t as mind numbingly boring as I’d thought it would be.

I mean; the company was decent, me and Steve wasting the time away by playing twenty one questions and talking with the kid.

Think of it as community service; us near adults taking the time out from our busy lives to give back to the younger generation.

Of course; I’d also forgotten how blatantly dumb boys of the younger generation could be.

“All right; so let me get this straight...” Drawled the voice of Steve as he trailed behind keeping pace with the kid; after refusing to keep step with me.

It’s not my fault; really. He’d dropped a question on cannibalism on me, and I’d rose to the challenge beautifully; managing to both freak him out and educate him in one answer; a finer achievement than any teacher at Hawkins High had ever managed.

“You kept something dangerous in order to impress a girl... who you just met?” Steve asked with such incredulousness, you’d almost forget this is the same kid who took up football in freshman year just to impress Kathy Williams; an absolute disaster which ended with him getting tackled by a senior quarterback and him spending two weeks in Hawkins Med with a broken arm.

Still got that date with Kathy though.

“Alright; that’s grossly oversimplifying things...” The kid objected, because pigheaded stupidity was a primarily male trait with symptoms that included complete denial when it came to pursuing the fairer sex.

“I mean; why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” Steve asked; the question perfectly rational, but clearly absurd in the eyes of a thirteen year old.

“An interdimensional slug?! Because it’s awesome!” Dustin exclaimed, and I swear the nerd levels here were sweeping off the chart.

“Lola; would you like it if I showed you a slug?” Steve called ahead to me, finally breaking his selective silence to ask an actual female about their kind.

Still; didn’t mean I was gonna give him all the answers.

“I’m not going anywhere near you or your slug, Steve.” I retorted; still not managing to contain a chuckle. Yes; that was an innuendo, and Steve was probably rolling his eyes right now, but fuck; if I didn’t like winding him up.

“Well; even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t... I... I just... I don’t know.” Steve reasoned with a sigh, forgoing all attempts to get me on side, because I was a petty bitch and still wasn’t quite over when he asked me about bra size.

“I just feel like you’re trying way too hard, man.” Steve confessed, chucking down another handful of meat with resigned indignation.

“Well; not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright...” Dustin griped, and I could barely contain my laughter, because was I the only one who fucking remembered?!

“Perfect?!” I scoffed; the word half hidden in a bout of laughter. “You should’ve seen him in the eighth grade! He looked like the fourth Beegee!” I exclaimed with thunderous laughter, because it was true; goddamnit!

Steve’s hair had been so goddamn hilarious, and just remembering it now brought back flashbacks of the Snow Ball; memories of crisp white suits straight out of Saturday Night Fever, and a much younger Steve Harrington busting a move on the dance floor like a barely pubescent John Travolta.

Steve didn’t find it funny, shooting me daggers that clearly said “shut the hell up”, despite the fact his embarrassment would only rile me up further.

“Anyway; it’s not about the hair...” He returned his attention to Dustin, clearly understanding that giving me evils was getting him nowhere.

“The key with girls is just... acting like you don’t care.” Steve bestowed his worldly piece of wisdom, and I could barely keep myself from rolling my eyes.

Yeah; because of course the girls liked Steve because he acted like a total douche, and not because they thought he was dumber than a sack of dirt and didn’t know any better.

The hair was a bonus though.

“Even if you do?” The kid asked innocently; and it was hard to believe that all twelve year olds took advice so easily.

“Yeah; exactly. It drives them nuts.” Steve said; and I had to stop them there.

This kid was no Steve Harrington and would probably end up dying alone if he followed Steve’s example.

Fuck; Steve might end up dying alone with a shovel to the back of the head if he kept pissing me off like this.

“Or he could just tell this girl how he actually feels, rather than acting all emotionally constipated about it; Steve...” I interrupted; offering an realistically sound piece of advice, which might end up with the girl actually liking the kid, rather than mistaking him for the douche of the century; who was clearly already walking among us.

“Don’t listen to her...” Steve dismissed my advice with a wave of the hand, and this time, I really did roll my eyes.

“Why? Because I’m a girl?” I countered smartly; as if sound logic ever meant more to Steve than macho grand standing.

“No; because you’re a psychopath...” Steve replies, tossing a handful of meat at me, as if I was a mischievous bitch that could be fended off with a scrap of food.

“Hey!” I exclaimed; nimbly leaping out of the line of fire before I could amass another interesting stain on my jacket.

“You know; I liked you better with your headphones on, Blondie...” Steve drawled; his attention fully averted from counsel giving, to our usually programmed showing of me and Steve acting like complete jackasses around each other.

“And I liked you better in Wham!; George...” I retorted; knowing how much Steve hated the smarmy pop band, despite Nancy’s insistence that they were gorgeous.

“Why don’t you come back here...” Steve began to bluster; picking up another handful of bloody meat with a mischievous smile on his face, but it was too late.

I was quicker than him, already dancing away further along the track, before slipping on my headphones; because despite being a slippery bitch, I was a good girl and sometimes decided to appease our noble king; if only for an easy time.

I hit play on my Walkman; happy to hear the starting notes of Heart Of Glass chiming into my ear canals.

I turned it up loud and proud to sing along; resolved that if Steve and the kid wanted boy time, they could have it, but I would be as much of a nuisance as possible.

“Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon found out he had a heart of glass

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Much of mistrust; love’s gone behind.”