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crinkled-emotions · 2 years ago

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15 and 7- sick Roo and Daderick please

🥺❤

Godddddd yes! I have always felt like Rooster would have a thing about hospitals- everyone gets nervous around them but I can't imagine he's too keen to go anywhere near one after the whole losing his last parent thing. Also Goose and Ice but y'know, Goose never made it to the hospital and I get the idea Ice passed at home.

7. "You don't like hospitals, I get it, but it will help, I promise." and 15. "Come on, I'll take a much-needed nap with you. Then we'll both feel better."

Rooster could feel the warning signs of a bad migraine as he got out of his jet, tossing his helmet down to Hondo to catch.

"Looking good, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw! Hopefully that'll shut the kids up for a bit," Hondo called out to him. Rooster's boots landed on the ground and he stumbled for a second before righting himself, smiling at Hondo.

"I doubt it, Lieutenant Blake is looking promising but she's reminding me a little too much of Mav to make me encourage her to act on her potential."

That was 4pm.

By 6pm he was dry heaving into the toilet in his bathroom, having only just made it home before it started. Everything he'd eaten during the day was already gone and he could feel his entire body shaking from the intensity. Grimacing, he cleared his throat and attempted to heft himself to stand. When that didn't work he crossed his arms over the toilet bowl, trying to use that leverage to get his legs under him. His limbs weren't cooperating and just trying to move made him nauseous again but he was very aware that he could hear his throat with how sick he was.

Briefly he considered calling down the stairs to where Bob was probably just coming home from work; he had a later shift considering he was now part of a research team unlike Rooster who had gotten himself a training position at TOPGUN.

"Bob?"

Nothing.

"Bob!"

That made him gag, the weak attempt at a yell sounding a million times later in his throbbing head. Grimacing, he tried to remember where his phone was.

It was downstairs, on the counter with his keys. His laptop was just down the hallway, he could Facebook message Bob and ask him to bring his phone up, but he didn't want to scare the WSO. He was probably exhausted after work, either making dinner or already passed out in bed. It wouldn't be the first time he'd gone straight to bed. Letting out a cry of pain, Rooster curled around the toilet and prepared for another round of dry heaving.

Maverick, now retired, spent a lot of time at home with Amelia and Penny, in the garage working on his bikes, or he often made trips out into the desert to his hangar. He still saw the Daggers quite often, whether it was dinner or game night at Jake's. Bradley often came around after work to spend time with his godfather, Penny and Amelia, but he was tentative to join Pete's newfound family. In his mind he was a reminder of his parents and what Pete had lost, but to Pete Bradley was a reminder of what he had.

"What are you feeling for dinner, kiddo?" Pete asked as he headed into the kitchen. Amelia shrugged.

"What about that pasta thing?"

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific."

She shrugged.

"That thing Rooster made."

Maverick held back the urge to gag.

"You want that? Peanut butter, pasta and cheese? That's not even slightly healthy and it's disgusting."

"Oh yeah, that was gross. No, I was talking about the parmesan cheese, tomato and capsicum pasta he made."

Maverick was slightly relieved. There were just some things he didn't understand and the peanut butter thing was one of them.

"Okay, yeah, let's do it. Come and give me a hand."

Amelia rounded the corner from the living room into the kitchen, washing her hands before starting to collect ingredients from the fridge.

"Mav, does Roo have other family?" She asked. Maverick shrugged.

"He might have a cousin, somewhere, but when his mom passed none of her family or his dad's stepped up to take him in. Why?"

"I dunno. He just gives me the vibes that he's spent a lot of time taking care of other people."

Maverick paused for a moment, head in the pantry looking for spices, before he cleared his throat.

"Get the vibes?"

By the next morning, Bob still wasn't home and Rooster was pretty sure he'd puked up everything he'd eaten ever. All of his attempts to move from the bathroom had ended up in him collapsing or the nausea starting again. He'd managed to get a water bottle from his room between bouts but that had been about it. The only way someone would know he was unwell was when he didn't show up for work. Undoubtedly Hangman or Hondo would come knocking.

God, he hoped they'd come knocking. He'd be really fucked if they didn't.

Where the fuck was his phone?

Still downstairs, you fucking idiot.

Where the fuck was Bob?

That's a question for another time.

Rooster decided it was time to stop sulking over his honestly blinding headache and his throbbing stomach and get his phone. Dragging his knees under him he carefully got one socked foot on the ground, shortly followed by the other one. Using the counter just in case, he managed to get to his feet. The lights were still off, he'd been so desperate to get to the bathroom last night that he hadn't really done anything other than kick his boots off at the door. With his feet finally under him, he staggered to the door and waited when his head span. Finally accepting the fact he was very unwell, Rooster decided to get downstairs as fast as he could. The sooner he could call out sick the sooner he could get some sleep and honestly? That was sounding more attractive by the second.

Hangman strolled into work and was immediately met by Hondo and Cyclone, both looking concerned (Cyclone's eyebrow twitched, he was worried). He frowned, dumping his backpack on his desk in his office.

"Sirs," he began, "what's going on?"

"Rooster didn't show for work this morning."

Jake frowned, taking a seat at said desk.

"Have you called him?"

"Four times," Cyclone said, arms crossed.

"And?"

"Nothing. No answer," Hondo added. Jake sighed, wiggling around to reach for his own phone. He sent a text to Bob asking where his housemate was then called Bradley himself. When he didn't get an answer he sighed, flicking through his contacts.

"Should we call for a welfare check?" Hondo asked.

"No," Hangman replied, "I have something better."

"Hey, Pops."

"Jake, it's seven am. What's wrong?"

"It's Roo. He didn't show up for work."

Maverick's throat went dry and he threw the blankets back, already getting out of bed.

"Have you heard from him today?"

"No. Cyclone called him four times, and I just tried him. Nothing. I have no idea where Bob is, either."

"Bob's back in Wyoming, family emergency. His twin's not in a good place, hurt his shoulder riding bulls. I thought he told you guys?"

"No way. Um, I know it's early, but could you..."

"I'm on my way. I'll call you when I know something."

"Roo?"

Rooster lifted his head from the floor, grimacing as he tried to remember where he was. There was someone coming toward him, a figure a little shorter than him, and he cried out when they stopped blocking the sunlight.

"Bradley?"

Only one person would use that paternal tone with him. Well; one person alive, at least.

"Mav," he choked out, but it made his head throb and he curled back into himself, gasping for air. His crying was dry, probably due to his dehydration, and when Maverick put a hand on his head he pulled it away at the dampness of blood.

"Oh, kiddo, how did you get that?"

"Mav, it hurts."

"Your head? Makes sense, it's bleeding. Okay, c'mon, let's get you up."

"I can't move, Mav, it hurts too much."

All of Maverick's warning signals were going off and he crouched by Rooster, cupping his cheek.

"I think we need to take you to hospital."

That made Rooster sob harder, despite the intense throb in his head and the way he knew he was going to throw up again.

"You don't like hospitals, I get it, but it'll help, I promise," Maverick whispered softly, squeezing the back of his neck softly. Bradley proceeded to cry into Maverick's shirt.

It was only when Bradley was curled up in the hospital bed that Pete was reminded about a) how quickly he'd left home, and b) why he'd left home in the first place. Dialling Amelia's phone, he got a sleepy teenager.

"Mav?"

"Hey, Amelia, uh, listen. I know it's early and I know your mom's at work, but I need you to call her to come get you."

"Aren't you upstairs?"

"No, honey, Roo is sick. I had to take him to the hospital."

"What? Oh my god. Is he- what's wrong?"

"Doctors say it's a pretty bad migraine. He's really sick, Amelia. Can you please call your mom, get her to come get you?"

"Yeah, of course. Do you need me to bring you anything?"

"No, that's okay. Have a good day."

"Okay, Mav. Love you, hope Roo's okay."

Maverick hung up the phone just in time for Bradley to come out of his doze, blinking tiredly as he searched for Maverick.

"Hey, kid. It's okay, you're okay. Does your head hurt?"

"Mmhmm."

Finally rehydrated via IV, Bradley started to cry again and the tears slid down his face. Wincing, Maverick swiped at his eyes.

"You're probably tired, more than anything. C'mon, close your eyes again, go back to sleep."

"I can't."

"I know, kiddo."

Maverick got up from his chair, taking a seat on the bed. Hesitantly, he reached over to squeeze Rooster's hand.

"Come on, I'll take a much-needed nap with you. Then we'll both feel better."

When Hangman, Cyclone and Hondo hadn't heard anything from Maverick or Rooster for a good three hours, they started calling hospitals. Finally Hangman got a hit and they used Cyclone to get through the nurse at the front desk. Striding down the hallway Hangman paused at the entrance, holding out a hand to Hondo and Cyclone.

"Roos and Mav are asleep. Give me a second, I don't want Rooster to go through the roof if he sees you two."

"I'll go and call in Lieutenants Fitch and Garcia to cover the training."

Cyclone stepped away, phone already to his ear. Hondo nodded at Jake.

"Go 'head, Lieutenant. Go see your family."

"Thanks."

Jake stepped into the hospital room, trying to be as quiet as he could. Maverick was back sitting by Rooster's bedside, head on the bed with his hand on Rooster's stomach. Rooster was asleep, snoring softly and it looked like he was almost done with an IV bag of fluids. Jake sighed, quietly backing out of the room and closing the door.

"Other than a cut on his head and a bright pink emesis bin beside him, I think he's gonna be okay. Mav's with him, doing his Daderick thing," he told Hondo who smiled.

"Maverick would do anything for him."

"Yeah, I know."

#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Rooster #Pete Maverick Mitchell #Pete Mitchell #Maverick #Callsign: Maverick #Callsign: Rooster #sickfic #hurt/comfort #Top Gun Maverick #Top Gun: Maverick #TGM

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docholligay · 3 years ago

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Clueless non-cooking American-raised answer: what even is a pot roast? Like, it's a phrase I saw in books sometimes, I think? But I don't really know what it means in terms of what it does to the meat and I have no idea if I've eaten it. (Basically this is me saying that I'm pretty sure plenty of your teenagers will have no idea.)

I need you to know, and I mean this in a very loving teasing sort of way, I legitimately laughed out loud at "What even is a pot roast?"

I'm using your ask to thank everyone for their VERY helpful comments, and yes, a lot of the appeal for me of doing the pot roast is that it's really easy, reasonably priced for a beef dish, but looks nice and the leftovers are FABULOUSLY reusable in a variety of ways, which for me is the big thing--I remember when I was experiencing food insecurity the thing I hated the MOST was eating leftovers for several days in a row, because it was cheaper to make a LOT of one thing. I think everyone who has experienced a rough go of things has certain things that remind them so powerfully of the experience that it sets them off in ways that are admittedly goofy, and mine is eating leftovers. HATE.

ANYWAY, pot roast! It's easy, sexy, and can be had very cheaply, especially if you manage to shop a sale!

POT ROAST

What you need is a cheap cut of meat--there's no "pot roast cut" but what you usually want to use are the tough cheap cuts that work really well for long cooking, so your rump roasts, your chuck roasts (usually what I buy), a 7 bone roast if you have a roaster big enough makes MARVELOUS pot roast and the bones make EXCEPTIONAL broth afterward. I used to recommend brisket, because brisket used to be cheap before every useless-ass barbecue dad decided that he wanted to be ~special and skilled~ but still just make MEAT instead of learning to cook pastry or something LIKE A LADY and so went and bought a Traeger to use to make subpar wastes of beef 3 times a year. SO brisket's expensive now.

Cheap cut of meat --no less than 3 pounds

beef broth (2 cups, save the other 2 cups for later in the week)

I can't tell the kids to use a heavy brown ale, but use a can of heavy brown ale. Alternatively, red wine is the classic choice, but I'm happiest with my brown ale.

Tomato paste (save the rest of the can for beef stroganoff later in the week)

seasoning: I'm going to have to figure out how to simplify, simplify for these kids without many resources, so I list these from contribute the most to contribute the least

- salt and pepper

-thyme

Worcestershire sauce

-bay leaf

-rosemary

-of course you can fuck around with whatever it is you like!

Sliced onions

potatoes cut into big chunks (Yukon golds do best)

Carrots cut into big chunks

Mushrooms are also very good in this

about 2 tbsp butter and 4 tbsp flour(ish)

Equipment: a dutch oven or deep roaster, depending on what you have and the size of your roast.

1. Heat your oven to 325. Low and slow is the way we're going here. This doesn't take a ton of ACTIVE time, but it takes a lot of cooking time.

2. Put salt and pepper all over your roast. Lightly dust it with about half of your flour. (When I do this for the teens, I will explain WHY we're doing all this to help teach them techniques they can hopefully crossapply) Then toss your dutch oven or roaster on the stovetop, and throw some olive oil or canola oil or whatever the fuck you have in that bad boy. Sear on all sides, with a nice deep golden crust. Take it out of the pan and toss it on a plate for a minute.

3. Put your onions in the pan and saute them, remembering to give them a little salt. Deglazing time! Throw your can of ale (or cup of red wine if you're a traditionalist) into the pan, making sure to scrape up the bits of detritus on the bottom of the pan, that's where the good stuff is.

4. Toss the beef broth and all of your flavorings in the pot. Set the roast back in the pot.

5. Cover with the lid, or tin foil, depending on what you've got. Toss it in the oven for about an hour and forty five minutes. Play video games! Read a book! Do chores! Whatever! The great thing about this is that so much of the cook time doesn't involve you at all.

6. After the time has passed, put the root vegetables into the pan with the roast, making sure to nestle them around and get good braising action in the liquid. Cover it back up and put it back into the oven for ROUGHLY one and a half to two hours. The great thing about this is YOU DON'T USE A THERMOMETER. (another reason I picked it) You cook it until it's fork tender! That is, easily flakes with a fork.

7. Take it out of the pot when its done and shred it with forks, knives, your hands. Put you pot back on the stovetop, we're going to make gravy.

8. Make a thickening paste--take your butter and flour and mash it into a paste, and then add that to the pot, cooking for a few minutes to thicken (You can also use cornstarch to thicken, if you prefer. Remember cornstarch CANNOT be added straight to hot liquids, and has to be mixed with a bit of water first)

9. Serve! Put some meat and vegetables on a plate and cover with gravy. Some people choose to put all the meat back into the pot and coat with gravy before serving--I don't like to do that because I feel it limits my leftover options.

#oh wow you can do sub-bullets anymore #what a crock of shit #my AU bullet point posts probably make ZERO SENSE NOW

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angel-0f-verdun · 2 years ago

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05 Doorway of Sins

Previous Chapter

The apartment seemed warmer with Rick's presence here again. Although, I would miss my little fortress of solitude. He was a grumpy grumbling mess and making me more miserable by the minute with his whining. On the happier side, my brother was alive. At this particular moment in time, I was wishing he was back in prison. When we walked through the door he immediately went to the shower to get all the dirt off his body from being in the dank yet arid prison. I didn't blame him, we made very little small talk on the way home, and when we did talk it was a snarky comment here and there. I could tell he wanted to feel like himself again, not the scruffy impolite asshole we found in prison.

I sighed knowing that I would have to change and pack to get ready for the boat ride in the morning. However, that could wait, right now I wanted some food and bonding time with my brother. I went to the kitchen turned on the stove and grabbed a pan. The entire excursion with the prison took way longer than I had expected. The paperwork itself was a bitch to go through. I threw the pan on the stove and went to the fridge to grab the butter and eggs. It was the only thing I had, it had been a while since I had gone to the store. Other important things plagued my mind, however, I pushed them away and tried to focus on the present. I took some butter and put it in the pan waiting for it to melt. Then I watched the eggs fall onto the hot pan, the sizzle was one of the best noises I'd heard today. I made them sunny side up putting them on the plate once they were crisp at the edges. I set one plate to the side for Rick when he got out of the shower. I went over to the couch sitting down and turning on the radio. As I listened to the music coming through the little box, I salted and peppered my eggs. My stomach rumbled and my mouth started to water. Just as I was about to take a bite I heard Rick's voice pipe up from around the corner of our hallway bathroom.

"Eris?" He asked. I knew he could smell the aroma that the stove and food gave off.

"Yes Rick, I made you food," I told him anticipating his question.

"Thank you." He said. I smiled just before I shoveled my bite into my mouth. I waited until I saw his figure slink out of the bathroom, his brown hair was tamed and cut, and he was clean-shaven. He looked like a civilized human again. I pointed towards the kitchen as his eyes met mine. He nodded understanding what I meant. He sighed as he came back out plate in his hands.

"So how have you been? Seen your alter ego lately?" He asked, he knew what was in the mirror when I looked into it. When we were kids I knew he didn't believe me, but as we aged and the problem didn't diminish he knew that it was something more. I just about spat my food back out. It wasn't like I wasn't expecting the question, but it surprised me that he got straight into the nitty gritty aspects of our brother-sister bond.

"Um. Yes, it seems like she's getting more and more frequent" I said to him. I didn't want to upset him further. So I decided not to say anything else.

"You're not telling me something," He said, food practically falling out of his mouth. He may look civilized now, but he also looked like he hadn't eaten good food in years. He could always tell when I was keeping things from him, I'm not sure why I tried. He was overly protective of my well-being and he made it his job to know when things were not right when it came to my affairs.

"I saw her," I muttered.

"In the mirror, yeah, that's where you normally see her" He assumed. I stayed quiet just watching him finish his eggs as I had already finished mine.

"Eris." He said sternly, looking at me with his hair falling to the side of his face. He set his plate down on the coffee table, and straightened against the chair he was sitting in. I could see he was waiting for my response, but the words weren't coming out of my mouth.

"It... It was like an apparition." I told him.

"A ghost?" He dumbed my words down, I hated when he did this. Rick was well-educated though it might not seem like it. He may not be an exquisite scholar, but he was always in tune with my emotions and those around him. His intellect with himself, however, was subpar. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Rick, it was like I could reach out and touch her. She was completely aware of my presence." I told him, this seemed to take him for a loop. His face contorted into a frown. I could tell he wasn't sure how to process this. Neither was I to be honest. These occurrences had been happening since I was a child and now on the eve of exploration they were getting more and more intense. It was like she had been dormant for years just waiting for this moment.

"So what do you think it means?" He asked me. I sighed knowing that this conversation was just getting started.

"I have no idea, Rick. It's a new occurrence to me." I sighed setting my plate on our coffee table. The sun was starting to slip below the horizon and I was getting tired. It was strange, the new routine was not what I was used to.

"Do you think she's real?" He asked me.

"I don't know. She could have been, I've been doing some research but nothing has stuck out that could point me in the correct direction." I sighed glumly suddenly remembering the book I had helped Evy pick up. Set Volume 1. Was that a connection? It gave me a chill going through that memory. I quickly changed the topic.

"You ready for tomorrow?" I asked him pulling the blanket up closer to my face, making a mental note to retrieve the book when we returned to the museum as it didn't seem beneficial to me currently. He looked down at his foot for a moment looking like he was lost in his thoughts. I knew that something was going on in that thick skull of his.

"I'll be ready, we need to pack any and all weapons. I don't trust what is beneath that sand." He said getting up.

"Seems like there might be some chemistry between you and Evy," I told him as our eyes made contact with each other. He froze for a split second.

"Don't assume, it's rude" he said before walking away to pack. I smiled, it always worked. When the topic changed to his love life, it was a quick decision for him to jump out of the conversation. After he disappeared I looked at the clock. It read 9 pm. It was time for me to sleep. I got up from my position on the couch and folded my blanket and turned off the radio. I grabbed the plates and walked into the kitchen. I knew there was a possibility we would be gone for a while so I quickly washed the plates. I quietly wondered if Evy had told the curator we would be gone for a while. I sighed as I set the plates on our drying rack. I should have been the one to tell the boss. I turned the lights off and made my way toward my closet for my suitcase. It was a smaller duffle, nothing fancy. I was excited to finally be in pants and a shirt. Women these days knew it was unladylike. However, I liked to push the boundaries of mediocracy when I could. I had a bit of an attitude when I wanted to get my way. As I folded and categorized my clothes into the duffle I found my mind wandering to my unknown tattoo. It wasn't large, it fit delicately on my wrist although the tattoo was anything but delicate. It resembled Rick's triangle with snakes on either side. Although mine had a jackal head looking down inside the triangle. There were wisps of cloth surrounding it almost like it was trying to cover the jackal. There was no sense to be made of it. I scoured books looking for answers to the symbols. But there was none I could find. I was unsure as to why those working in the orphanage would give this artwork to children, it was morose.

I moved on to packing my weapons. I had some throwing knives which I had barely used. My 1911 would stay on my person. I had two revolvers that I packed inside the duffle with a breech-loaded shotgun. That would do it for me I knew Rick would have the rest. Once I was happy with my selections I zipped up the duffle and moved it off the bed. I undressed and tugged my nightgown on over my head and climbed into bed. The sheets were cold and they helped relax me into a lull of darkness, within moments I was asleep. The first relaxing sleep I had gotten in a while. No dreams, just simple darkness.

The alarm rang out loudly in the morning I groaned reaching over and slamming my palm on the contraption. I sighed, today was the big day. I smiled knowing that there was an adventure ahead of us. I rolled out of bed and put on the clothes from last night that I had laid out. It consisted of tan riding pants and a dark blue button-up shirt. I walked to the bathroom to relieve myself and put my hair into a ponytail. My hair naturally held its wave, it was the one thing I really adored about myself, the rest was immaterial I thought as I slowly and carefully lined my eyes. I slugged the duffle bag onto my shoulder and trudged out of the room. When I got to the living room I found Rick in a beige suit with a white button-up underneath it. He was standing over his suitcases double checking that he had everything he needed.

"Ready?" He asked. I nodded in compliance as we started out the door. Being the second out I made sure the door was locked, sliding my key into the mechanism and waiting for the deadbolt to click into position. With the satisfaction that the door was secure, I slid the keys into my pocket and followed my brother on our walk to Giza port. It was not far from where we lived, it was a short walk compared to the others I had recently been doing. The slow breeze that rippled through the air made me happy that the weather was holding well. I hoped it would remain this way although I was always more content when the weather was gloomy. Rick steered us towards the bazaar's area of cafes as we were about an hour early.

"Want something to eat?" He asked me. I nodded, not feeling overly talkative in the early morning. He led us inside and I bought a scone with a bit of fruit, while Rick tried his best to find us a table in the crowded atmosphere. It wasn't much food but it would get me feeling a bit better. I ate the fruit as Rick observed our surroundings. I knew he wasn't a fan of these types of environments. He looked over at me after I had finished eating my fruit and was starting on my scone.

"What have you been doing these last few years?" I asked him. He looked down at my plate as if he wasn't planning on telling me about his excursions that took him away from me.

"I was hoping we wouldn't have to have this conversation..." He said, still not looking up.

"I am your sister. Of course, we need to have this conversation. I've been looking for you ever since a couple of days after your due back date. That was years ago." I glared at him, he owed me an explanation for making me worry. If it were only a couple of weeks or so I wouldn't have been as pissed off as I was about this.

"Well..." He started.

"After the battle, I wandered the desert I had no sense of direction. I ended up in dodgy bars and bazaars after dark. I didn't know where I was, hardly anyone spoke any English. It was hard to find which way was up after a while..." I rolled my eyes. He was lying in a bar drinking, that's why he didn't use his relatively acceptable navigating skills.

"So you were lost and becoming a drunk while I was out there worried that you had died? Rick, I scoured the area and surrounding area looking for your dumb ass for years!" I told him I knew this was certainly a possibility but it was unacceptable to hear it now.

"Eris, I didn't mean to be gone as long as I was. Beni sold me out to the prison after the battle, maybe a couple of months. Anyway, they found me fast and that's actually when I met your friend, Jonathan. Little weasel pickpocketed the key I had found at Hamunaptra." He said his eyes finally meeting mine. I looked away, finishing my scone. Rick looked at his watch, knowing it was time to leave and meet with the Carnahan's. I followed him through the already bustling area to the boarding docks. We were walking up behind Evy and Jon. I only caught the tail end of their conversation.

"I think he's filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel. I don't like him one bit." Evy finished telling Jonathan.

"Anyone, I know?" Rick asked butting into their conversation. I smiled giving Evy a small hug as she looked at Rick's appearance. It clearly was not what she was expecting. I pulled away quickly as I knew we wanted to get this show on the road.

"Smashing day for the start of an adventure, eh O'Connell?" Jonathan said excitedly patting Rick's chest. Then shaking his hand. Rick looked less than enthused with him. He checked the breast pocket on his jacket for his documents and money. After finding them he looked back to Jonathan.

"Oh, I'd never steal from a partner, partner." He said tripping over his words.

"Oh of course Jon, but I think he's earned the right to be suspicious of you since you already stole from him previously." I pipped up from beside Rick. Jon sighed, knowing he would have to go to great lengths to get respect and trust from Rick. Rick gave fake laughter a try, showing his white teeth off to Evy.

"That reminds me... No hard feelings about the uh..." Rick mimicked a punching move.

"Oh no, no, happens all the time," Jon answered I looked at Evy and knew immediately that we were sharing the same thought. Boys will be boys.

"Mr. O'Connell can you look me in the eye and guarantee me that this isn't some sort of flim-flam because if it is I am warning you..." She trailed off but Rick interrupted her first.

"Whoa, you're warning me? Lady, let me put it this way my whole damn garrison believed in this so much that without orders, marched halfway across Libya and into Egypt to find that city. And when we got there all we found was sand and blood. Let me get your bags." Rick finished his rant grabbed their suitcases and walked up the boardwalk.

"Charming, isn't he?" I said sarcasm filling my voice as I stared at the back of my brother.

"Ah yes, you're right, filthy, rude, complete scoundrel, nothing to like there at all." Jon mused watching Evy staring after Rick with a longing look.

"Ugh, god. Evy please, you can do better than my brother. That's disgusting." I said thinking now was a good time to take my leave.

I followed my brother's figure up the boardwalk and to the ship. It wasn't luxury by any means but we would only be here for a bit. I followed my brother's retreating figure to the check-in to find our room. The fellow gave us keys and I split off from Rick as he started to Evy and Jon's room and I to ours. I got to the room the door looked stained from use and germs. I pushed it open to see bunk beds. It was a fun little coincidence as this looked like our arrangements at the orphanage. Rick always enjoyed the top bunk, he liked to be up higher if anything were to happen he used to explain to me that he could jump down on an assailant and have the advantage. I smiled as the memory faded a new one replaced it as I noticed the candle lighting the room. The candles were suddenly taller and the woman covered in tattoos was back. This time she was walking through the corridors of a palace. She was on a mission, holding a khopesh blade and strutting to a bedroom where the pharaoh slept. I knew this could only mean one thing. Death would befall this family tonight. I watched horrified as I watched her quickly slit his throat, the blood splattering on her face. She looked up at me and smiled,

"You will be mine." She said, reaching out to grab me. As I flinched away from her I was back in the room with the bunk beds. I shook my head and decided now was the time that I needed to be around people. I started searching through the hallways for Rick or Evy whichever I could find first. This clearly could not be ignored any longer.

Next Chapter

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mourntheantagonist · 4 years ago

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Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!! It’s Finally the Day to share my piece for the @harringroveheart-on !! (If you didn’t already see it posted on ao3 yesterday)I went with the prompt: secret admirer!! enjoy some flangst and have a wonderful day whether you celebrate the holiday or not!! ❤️

Fortunately

read on ao3

***

Billy needs a job.

He’s two months fresh out of the hospital but that doesn’t matter. The local pool was closed for the winter and Neil was adamant that he get out and find work as soon as he was able to walk, despite the fact that he could only do so for only short periods at a time.

And he’s forced to take what he can get. January wasn’t the best time of year to be looking for work in Hawkins. He told himself he’d apply at any place with a help wanted sign displayed in their window. And he did. Application after application. Stellar fucking resume. The only problem was that not many people were looking to hire on the guy who looked just minutes away from death each time they saw him. Didn’t want to put the guy with the hideous scars and the sickly frame in front of customers. Though, they’d usually let him off with the same similar speech about how he “just wasn’t what they were looking for.”

Luckily for Billy, there was one place that was just as desperate as he was. Li’s Kitchen. The local Chinese restaurant that had just needed to make several layoffs to keep themselves from closing. They quickly hired him on to wash dishes in the back because he was ready and willing to work for minimum wage. Making just $3.35 an hour, it was enough and at least it got Neil off of his back.

So he’d haul his ass into work every day on the dot. Walking the full half-mile distance through snowy paths to the restaurant since the Camaro was still out of commission. Trudging along, praying he didn’t slip because his ribs were still fragile and just a simple impact of a good fall could break them again. The walk was simply exhausting. By the time he’d enter through those double doors and set off the bell hung above, he’d be completely out of breath and exhausted and his shift hadn’t even started yet. But fortunately it was just washing dishes. How hard could it be?

Apparently. Pretty fucking hard for a guy who could hardly stand up straight. The heat radiating from the hot steam of the water making him lightheaded almost instantaneously. The boiling hot water against his arms and hands sending him back to those days flayed out in the sun as the ultraviolet rays burned through the skin. The liquid dripping from his face that he couldn’t differentiate from steam or sweat taking him back to the sauna. Feeling his insides heat up and burn like fire inside his gut. Trapped in a prison that was his own body. He just wanted to crawl into a bucket of ice.

His only saving grace was that this time it was winter, and he wasn’t actually flayed. Just overheated and weak. He'd take his breaks behind the restaurant digging his feet into deep snow and letting the chill breeze cool him down. Lighting up a cigarette to get his body to an equilibrium of hot and cold. But the good feeling only lasted as long as he stood outside, immediately getting the same sick to his stomach feeling as soon as he walked back in. Hunched over the sink in the kitchen just trying to move fast enough and stay standing.

He figured he was lucky enough to get the job, that he couldn’t afford to disappoint, because then he’d be entirely out of options. Unemployed and still stuck under his father’s roof on Cherry Lane, this time accompanied by a deeper rage. If Billy didn’t have a job to get to, Neil would have no reason to hold back anything. No reason not to leave bruises or cuts. But it was getting harder and harder as the days progressed. Never enough time in the day to rest and recover enough to brave the next one. He was running on borrowed energy and excessive amounts of caffeine.

There came a moment when he nearly passed out into the sink full of porcelain plates. His breathing became shallow as his vision got blurry and dark. His head spun and his balance faltered and he needed a fucking drink of water.

One of the servers caught him just before he was about to go down. A man older than him but not by much. Same build as him before the accident but easily with an additional five inches on him. Billy was probably at least ten pounds lighter now that a bulk of his muscle had wasted away in that hospital bed. Making him easy to catch.

“You look like shit hargrove.” is what the man says, but Billy barely registers it because everything is muffled. The sounds of running water into the metal sink being the loudest noise he can hear. The man tosses one of Billy's arms over his shoulder and hauls him into the break room. Billy’s doing exactly zero of the work. Letting his legs fall limp and his feet drag against the tile floor. He sits him down in one of the metal chairs and hands him a small cup of water from the jug. “Drink you’re dehydrated” he says, tilting the bottom of the cup upwards so that it’s forced into Billy's mouth and down his throat. “The dinner rush is almost out, I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes, you just stay in here and try not to pass out again, sound like a plan?”

Billy nods his head and drinks the rest of the water in the cup before letting his head fall into his hands and his eyes fall shut as he tries to regain his composure. Cool himself down and slow his heart rate.

By the time his coworker — Zachary, he remembers — comes back into the break room he’s better. Not quite ready to get back to the sink and the hot steam cloud that comes with his job, but better.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten kid?” Kid. Sounds really odd coming from someone who could be no older than thirty.

“I had toast this morning.” Billy hadn’t actually been eating much lately. Not finding the time in the day to sit down to have a meal in between work and recovering from said work. His hours conflicted with family dinner so he was left to fend for himself. Neil made it very clear that what was in the cupboards did not belong to him. So all he had to his name was a single loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter.

“Well guess what. It’s closing time and you’re not leaving here without a meal. So go sit down at one of the tables and pick anything you want from the menu.” Does Billy have pride? Yes. But is his stomach turning and his mouth watering at just the thought of some orange chicken? Also yes. So instead of arguing with him about how he can take care of himself, which is debatable at this point, he just says thank you and finds himself a table in the corner. He doesn’t expect Zachary to follow him all the way there and sit down right across from him.

“Don’t worry about paying. My dad will cook it up for free.”

Oh right. Zachary Li... The owner’s son.

And suddenly things went from awkward to outright uncomfortable for Billy. Because he was sitting here eating dinner with another man who would be footing the bill. Sure, Zachary was just his coworker and in his mind the exchange had absolutely no weight to it, but to billy it was so fucking heavy. The thought of Neil barging in to see the display and not giving two seconds to read the situation before he started throwing punches. Because it didn’t matter if it was a date or just dinner with a coworker. If it looked a certain way, then that’s how it was.

But the other thing was he couldn’t just get up now. Not without an explanation. So he sucked it up and said he’d have the orange chicken, earning a scowl followed by a laugh and a nod because of course he’d order that and none of the authentic chinese food dishes. But then he ordered the same thing because they both have fallen victim to american colonization.

And chef Li made a damn good orange chicken.

And this one did not disappoint. But it’s not like he really had the chance to taste it since he was too busy inhaling it. Finishing his entire plate before Zachary had even made a dent. And Billy was slightly embarrassed by it. But zachary said nothing. Just continued with his own meal without acknowledging that Billy had scarfed his own down in no time at all. Making other dry conversation with Billy and constantly refilling his water glass with the pitcher every time it got below half full.

When he’s just about finished is when chef Li brings out a small plate with fortune cookies sitting on top, one for each of them. They each take their own and crack them open.

“What’s it say? I got an inch of time is an inch of gold for the thousandth time. I swear elizabeth is getting lazy with these”

Billy looks down at his, and can’t help but laugh.

“A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life.”

Hahaha. Hilarious.

“Well then we better hope that these things come true. Though I have a lot of time and have not seen any gold fall into my lap yet.” he laughs and pops the cookie into his mouth, Billy does the same. “Hey dad, you gonna open one?”

“Sure.” he says. Pulling one from the container in the back and breaking it open quite aggressively. “Allow compassion to guide your decisions. Boring.”

They both just laugh. But then Zachary gets this weird look in his eyes. “Hey dad? What if Billy made the fortune cookies instead?”

“Who would wash the dishes?”

Zachary just shot him a look. Yeah, Billy's medical condition and clear exhaustion didn’t go unnoticed by the staff. That must have been what that look meant.

“Read that fortune again, Dad.”

He looks down at the slip of the paper in his hand and almost instantly tosses it to the floor.

“You’re a pain in my ass Zach. alright then Billy, you available in the mornings? I can have Elizabeth show you the ropes tomorrow and if you’re any good you won’t have to wash dishes anymore. That will be my ungrateful son's job.”

“Hey-“

“No ‘hey’ nothing. Have compassion, remember?” he swats Zach with the towel that hung over his shoulder.

Billy just stayed silent for the whole exchange. Only nodding his head when asked if he was free in the mornings. He wanted to tell them to fuck off. To tell them he could do his job perfectly fine. A bold faced lie, but still. However, he also recognized that he couldn’t continue the way he was going. He was three shifts away from an ambulance ride to the emergency room, and that would just piss off Neil further.

So instead of speaking up, he silently agreed, and suddenly found himself walking the same distance he did every day, this time at seven in the morning when the rest of his house was still asleep. Another bonus. Less he had to see Neil, the better. And he’d be home in time for family dinner, the only meal he was welcome to join. And as much as he hated sitting across the table from his Dad, Susan's cooking served as a pleasant enough distraction.

Liz gladly showed him how to make the cookies. Constantly expressing how much she hated making them and is happily giving up the job to billy. That didn’t make him feel too great about it.

But then it really wasn’t bad. Just tedious. Slightly boring and mindless. Made his hands ache after a couple hours of folding the fortunes and squeezing out the batter, but it was ten times less painful than doing the dishes. He got to make them while sitting down at a table before the place even opened. No crowded kitchen or hot running water. The only heat he experienced came from opening and closing the oven, and that only happened for seconds at a time.

And the best part.

He got to make the fortunes.

Typing out several sheets of sample fortunes on a typewriter, cutting them into slips using the paper guillotine. It was definitely strange they never bothered to check his work. They had way too much trust in a guy like Billy to write fortunes. Free will to throw anything in there.

Did he ever veer away from the script posted to the wall? No. But the fact that he could was so funny to him.

He never once considered he would actually want to throw something else into those fortune cookies, until that first tuesday in the middle of his shift right as they opened for lunch and he saw a familiar figure enter through the glass doors into the restaurant. Bell chiming behind him. Craning his head upwards so he could get a closer look he recognizes Steve, picking up a to-go order still wearing the dark green family video vest. Steve didn’t even notice him. Just grabbed his white paper bag, dropped the bill on the counter, and walked out the door. Flashing a smile at Liz who was up running the counter.

But Billy, he saw Steve. He stared at Steve for the duration of his time in the store because he was totally and completely whipped. Totally entranced for long enough that the cookies he was folding had already hardened, and Zach was giving him a weird look when Billy visibly shook at the sound of the bell chiming for the second time, pulling him from the trance.

“So harrington, huh? He’s your fortune?”

Billy got all wide eyed and jerked his head to the right to look at him. Completely zoned out and unprepared to defend himself, instead just stuttering out a string of nonsensical “I”s and “no”s and “it’s not”s. Failing miserably to get the lies past his tongue.

“Relax dude. I don’t really give a shit. Elizabeth, however, might. Girl doesn’t stop talking my ear off about you.”

But that just goes in one ear and out the other. Billy still continues to stutter out as best of a denial he can but his heart is racing, his stomach is churning, his palms are sweating, and the cookies are burning!

“Shit.” it’s the first full sentence he’s been able to get out. Rushing over to the oven and pulling out the hot pan of nearly completely blackened circles.

And Zach is just standing there laughing. Waving the smoke out of his face as Billy tries to blow out the miniature fire he caused on one of the cookies.

“Still gonna try and deny it?” he says.

“Fuck off. Seriously.”

Zach just backs away. Hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my own business. Lover boy.”

Billy promptly tosses one of the finished cookies at his face. “Whatever you think you saw. Keep it to your fucking self, alright?”

“Got it. Loud and clear.” But he’s still fucking giggling and Billy is currently contemplating murder. Eyes darting to the array of knives in close reach. Shakes the feeling. Killing the boss's son probably wouldn’t look good on evaluation.

Did he tell anyone? No. Did he tease billy relentlessly about it every fucking day. Of course he fucking did. Especially on days Steve walked into the restaurant for a to-go order. Nudging him in the arm with a little “Guess who’s here?” in a sing-songy voice.

And to think Billy thought having someone know and not crucify him would be a good thing. He'd rather he just hate crime him behind the restaurant instead of the constant, and I mean constant, ribbing.

Eventually moving on from teasing behind the wall of the kitchen to suggesting he go out and take the payment to actually pushing him out the swinging doors to do it. “Talk him up Hargrove. Put on the moves.”

There were no moves. But there was a conversation. A good one. A nice one. They just talked about themselves and caught up. Not really seeing much of each other once he was out of the hospital. Only having seen Steve in passing on days he’d bring max by for visiting hours. But they never actually talked much during that time. He’d come up to the room with her saying “Thought it’d be nice to see another familiar face.”

And it was.

Billy was not paying much attention to this conversation. Answering Steve's questions and asking his own, but he was definitely distracted by how close their hands were to each other, both rested on the counter, supporting themselves. If you asked Billy after the conversation what they talked about, he could only recall two things. One; he works at family video, not really substantial. And two; he said he looked good.

“You look good Billy.”

Yup, Billy was completely gone.

So maybe the constant teasing wasn’t completely terrible. Especially now that he’s given him such a stupid stupid stupid idea that he’s one hundred percent going to go through with because it’s about fucking time he wrote some fortunes of his own. He had several typed out and ready to be placed into a cookie whenever they received another call for an order for ‘Harrington.’ The first one was innocent enough. Pulled straight off the list of sample fortunes.

“You always bring others happiness.”

Just something simple. He just saw it on the list and it made him smile. Thought it would be nice to see Steve smile too.

The next few were similar to that one. Pulled straight off of the list but tailored specifically toward Steve.

“You are working hard.”

“Have a beautiful day.”

“You look pretty.”

But that last one was different. Because on the back of the last one he wrote in ballpoint pen.

- The cookie maker ♡

And that’s when it became a thing that they were both aware of. Now it was a romantic gesture and not just an act of kindness or a series of coincidental fortunes. Now steve was on the lookout for who made the fortunes at Li’s kitchen, but at the same time trying to keep the mystery alive so that the fortunes would keep coming.

Billy started writing out his own.

“I like your hair.”

“You have a terrific ass.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on you.”

Zach wrote that last one.

Then they got deeper.

“You make me happy when I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You make the pain go away.”

Steve never failed to blush at each and every fortune with the signature heart on the back.

But it was dragging on. And Steve was getting impatient. Started to ask around, eventually learning that robin had seen Elizabeth Li making them one time.

Elizabeth Li is sixteen. Absolutely not.

And now he feels bad for letting it drag on this long. Taking himself to the restaurant to let her down gently. When he walks through, Billy is standing behind the counter. Confused because he didn’t usually order on Wednesdays, and especially not this late in the day.

Was that a weird thing to know?

“Do you have an order to pick up?” Billy asks.

“No. Not today. I was actually hoping I could talk to Elizabeth, is she around?”

And Billy's heart just sinks to the floor. The slight smile that was on his face now completely gone and shattered to pieces.

“Yeah. I’ll go get her.” he says, with a heavy heart, disappointment clear in his voice.

He sends her out to the front and lingers in the back, ear pressed to the door trying to listen in like some creep.

“Look, elizabeth. I’m really flattered and I appreciate the fortune cookies, but you’re way too young for me. I’m sorry.”

Shit.

Is Billy supposed to be worried or relieved?

He can’t even see her face but he knows she’d be giving him her death stare right about now.

He can hear her say it through clenched teeth and he shouldn’t find it so funny but it is.

“Yeah. Okay, sorry about that. I’ll definitely stop doing that. Have a good day Steve.” And she just walks away from the counter and Billy barely jumps backwards in time to not get a door slammed in his face.

“You better fucking fix this Hargrove. I am not going to go down for this for you.”

Zach had just walked into the kitchen from the break room. Chef Li and the rest of the staff are just minding their own business.

“What did I miss?”

Elizabeth is all up in Billy’s personal space. Inches away from his chest looking up at him from her height of just five feet and three inches.

“Steve fucking Harrington thinks I’m his little secret admirer.”

Her face is red in anger but Zach’s is red from laughing so hard.

“Now that’s fucking funny.”

“If you don’t tell Steve, I will. I covered for you out of the kindness of my heart, but I’m not that kind.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“Shut up Zach!”

Zach was laughing. Billy however, was suddenly not. Head now bowed, sighing heavily.

“I can’t do that.” It was a quiet and sudden change of tone that altered the mood of the situation entirely. The only people who could hear were just the three of them because the sound couldn’t overpower the noises of chopping vegetables and the clanking of pots and pans and the sizzle of cooking meat.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you. You know why.”

“Well what was your plan Romeo?! Were you just never going to tell him?” she threw her hands in the air like he was being ridiculous. The only thing that was ridiculous was that he ever went through with it in the first place.

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t fucking know.”

Zach came up from behind him and offered a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Look dude, my little sister is a bitch but she’s right. You have to tell him. I’ll have your back when you do.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” Billy jerks his head back down to look at Liz.

“Tell him. Tomorrow.” Her arms were crossed and she clearly wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

“Fuck the both of you. My shift is over.” Billy pushed past her and out of the restaurant. Leaving his jacket behind and walking home through the cold weather. His converse getting wet from the slushy snow, soaking through to his socks making him even colder all over. He’s internally freaking out and his heart would be beating out of his chest if his nervous system wasn’t operating at a decreased rate due to potential hypothermia.

He can’t even think. Just kicking his feet against the wet pavement letting the breeze take him over. If he dies, he doesn’t have to tell him.

Headlights pass him by as he slowly walks the distance home, nobody caring about the guy who cheated death just months ago inching closer back to that point instead of further away. Nobody stops to offer him a ride or even check to see if he’s okay, and he’s not even sure if he even wants to make it home. It would be preferable to just fall asleep in one of the bushes outside than having to make his day even worse by introducing Neil into it. Sitting at a dinner table, making nice and pretending like everything that was going well for him won’t come to an end twenty four hours from now. All the joy of making those little fortune cookies and just imagining the look on Steve’s face every time. The look he knew for sure was one of happiness despite never seeing it because it wasn’t a coincidence Steve’s lunch orders became more and more frequent.

But in his peripheral a set of headlights did seem to slow. That was either a sign he was meeting his savior, or potentially his kidnapper. Honestly at this point they are the same thing.

“Billy?”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Hey Harrington.” His teeth are chattering and his voice is shaky as he says it. Is it the cold? Or are his nerves finally beginning to work at the worst time possible?

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Walking home.”

“You’ll die out here.”

“If only.” He says it under his breath but Steve still hears it. Letting the car come to a complete stop rather than the slow pacing he was doing before.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.”

Billy just waves him off. “I’ll be fine on my own.” And he continues walking at his slow pace.

“I wasn’t fucking asking. Get the hell in Hargrove. Before I drag you in here.”

Billy stops and sighs. Kicking more slush into the air. “Fine.”

He walks around to the passenger side and lowers himself into the seat. Groaning as his body aches from the motion. Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. Just puts the car back into drive and heads towards Cherry Lane. Silence in the car as Billy breathes into his hands trying to warm them up. He’s pale. Looks like he’s never seen the sun before. His face is flushed. Even in the state like this Steve carries the same sentiment from that first conversation at the restaurant.

“You look good, Billy.”

He doesn’t say that. But he’s thinking it.

They eventually pull up to the white house with the screened in porch, and Billy grows visibly tense in his seat. He’s not moving. Just darting his eyes from the clock in the car and back to the house with the lights on.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. But Billy’s eyes continue to move back and forth as his breathing quickens slightly more as each second ticks by. Showing no sign that he heard the words that came out of Steve’s mouth. He reaches over the center console and grabs his hand. “Hey.”

Billy looks over like a deer in the headlights. Eyes ever so slightly glossy. Clearing his throat he tries to speak.

“Can you take me somewhere else?” He asks.

He doesn’t want to go home. Can’t begin to even think about seeing his Dad today. He just wants to crawl under his covers and go to sleep. Dream of a reality that isn’t his own. Not this fucked up shit show he’s stupidly gotten himself into.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here?”

Neither of them realize Steve is still holding his hand. Not until he squeezes it tighter, recognizing the pain in Billy’s voice. Not for what it meant but just that it was there. He didn’t need to nor want to know why Billy didn’t want to go home. Just wanted to make it so he didn’t have to.

“Is my house okay?”

Billy hesitates, but nods.

And they turn the car around.

- : -

Billy wakes up the next morning on Steve’s couch to the sound of a microwave’s hum followed by a loud ‘ding’ that echoes off the walls. He just remembers walking through the door of Steve’s house and immediately laying down on the first soft surface he could find. Remembers Steve saying he’d be upstairs if he needed anything before quickly drifting off into sleep without a care in the world.

He went to sleep without a pillow and a blanket, and woke up with both.

Billy rubs away at his eyes while Steve enters the living room from the kitchen with two plates in his hands.

“I made you a hot pocket if you want one.” He sets the plate onto the coffee table before he takes a seat in the chair beside the couch. Billy sits himself up and takes the plate, cooling it off with a quick blow of his breath before biting into it. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, at eight. What time is it?”

“Only seven fifteen. I have to be in at eight thirty so I can drop you off if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s seriously not a problem man, and no offense but you don’t look like you’d make the walk from here to there.”

Billy laughs.

“I thought you said I looked good.”

Shit. It’s weird that he remembers that.

But Steve blushes. “Well yeah, just not ‘two mile hike’ good. But you’ll get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you working anyway? Shouldn’t you still be recovering?”

Billy frowns. “My Dad is making me.”

Oh. That’s why he doesn’t want to go home.

The situation is awkward now. Silent as they finish their breakfasts and drive off in the Beemer. Pulling up outside the restaurant fifteen minutes before his shift starts. Billy suddenly reminded of what he’s supposed to do today as soon as he looks at the sign out front.

“Uh, hey. Listen. Come by the restaurant for to-go. On me y’know, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

Billy cuts him off.

“Yes. I do.”

- : -

When Billy walks into the kitchen in the same clothes as yesterday nobody says anything. Nothing about his undone hair or his or his early arrival to work. Instead he’s met with apologies exiting the mouths of the two Li children as they corner him in the break room.

“We’re sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t fair for us to do that to you. Elizabeth said she won’t tell Steve.”

They were waiting for him to yell, or at the very least get his anger out some way.

But instead Billy smiled. Barely there with just the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth but it was there, so distinct from his natural grimace. “It’s fine.” He says.

Zachary and Elizabeth are entirely confused. Looking in between each other like ‘did you just see what I just saw?’

“What has you so chipper?”

His smile just grew slightly wider.

“Spent the night at Steve’s last night.”

The two’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“You what!?” They both said in unison.

“Jesus! Not like that. I just slept on his couch.”

Billy could see the cogs turning in each of their heads. Trying to figure everything out like it was some complicated math problem. “I think I’m going to tell him. Today.”

“Really?”

Billy nodded, threw on his skull cap, and left the dumbfounded siblings where they stood. He had a fortune to write, and cookies to bake.

He was so meticulous this time. Making sure they were perfectly round circles, folded exactly in half. Throwing nonsense fortunes into each one. Avoiding the one sitting by itself on the table beside him. Too afraid to throw it into a cookie, each time he tossed in another basic off the list fortune was just Billy trying to talk himself out of it.

But he inches closer and closer to reaching the point of no return. First by putting in Steve’s lunch order. Next by finally slipping the fortune into a cookie. Next by slipping the cookie into Steve’s bag, and finally at the strike of noon, handing the bag to Steve, insisting he pay for it while Billy continuously denies him. Telling him to go enjoy his meal and stop arguing with him.

When Steve walked out the door Billy thought he could stop holding his breath. But he couldn’t let it out. Thought the anticipation lied with handing the meal to Steve, now feeling his breath caught even more now that he had. It was the anticipation of not knowing. He had to know.

But Steve left with the cookie still intact.

So he had to wait.

- : -

Steve brought his lunch into Family Video. The same thing he always ordered. Feeling a warm sensation in his chest at the knowledge that Billy knew his order. Fried rice and soup dumplings. Robin was there, waiting to mooch off of his food since she never bothered to bring her own lunch, but would also refuse to let Steve buy her anything.

If he didn’t know any better he’d think she liked him.

But he did know better not even to entertain that idea. She was just the girl who liked to eat Steve’s food because that’s just what she did. She’s standing there with her grabby hands, ready to start digging into his rice. She peruses through the contents of the bag and pulls out the plastic containers and the one fortune cookie that he always got.

“Did you let her down easy?” Robin asks, waving the cookie in his face.

“Yes. She was weird about it. But I guess she took it well.”

“Well that’s good. Can I have this one then?”

“Sure. Go for it. I don’t like them all that much anyway. I just like them for the fortunes.”

“Well then let’s see what Steve Harrington’s fortune is today, shall we?”

Robin cracks it open and gently pulls the slip of paper out from inside. Popping the cookie into her mouth as she pulls it taut so she can read it.

Her eyes squint. She pulls it closer to her face, just inches away like she can’t see what she’s reading. Like she’s confused.

“What’s it say?”

“Umm.” She just shakes her head. Mouth still full with the fortune cookie as she passes it along to Steve.

He takes it from her hesitantly, and a look of confusion washes over his face as he reads the words.

“I’m not Elizabeth Li.”

“What?” He says it mostly to himself, because what the fuck?

He turns it over and is expecting to see the same little signature. The vague ‘the cookie maker’ with the tiny heart.

Well the heart is still there.

But it says something else.

- Billy ♡

“Holy shit.”

- : -

It’s a painstakingly long rest of his shift. Doing the same old boring jobs like cleaning up, manning the front counter, and bussing tables when he’d finished the daily batch of cookies. It usually felt like a long five hours, but today it was excruciating. He could feel Zach and Liz’s eyes on him the whole time. Like they were watching intently so they didn’t miss the moment where he inevitably exploded from all the anxiety in his chest.

Billy’s constantly playing out different scenarios in his head. Steve barging into the store and punching him in the face being the one that’s the most prevalent. Occasionally letting himself get slightly hopeful and imagining the opposite.

But there was a third scenario he considered. That Steve just wouldn’t come back at all. Let him down by not even bringing him up. Robbing him of the closure he needs. He’d rather Steve just punch him in the face. That was a kind of rejection he could handle. One that gave him a reason to let go. Not one that left him hanging on by a single thread.

His shift is quickly coming to an end and he’s debating on how desperate he is to wait and linger around the restaurant with his small shred of hope that he comes back. His neck hurts from jerking his head towards the door every time the bell chimed. Hoping to see the boy with the chestnut hair walk through only to be greeted by another local he refused to learn the name of.

He’s losing his goddamn mind and he needs a fucking cigarette.

His shift comes to an end and he clocks out. Escaping to the back of the restaurant behind the dumpsters, lighting up a Marlboro Red and sinking his weight against the brick siding of the building. Feeling himself shiver when the heat of the flame warms the tip of his nose. Breathing in the smoke trying to regain some sense of calm that completely left his body as soon as he handed the bag to Steve. Too many hours on this high alert feeling that he can’t even recall what relaxation feels like anymore. Just accepts the burning in his lungs in the cold outside weather with just the hum of low traffic and the sound dripping gutters as the closest thing he’s going to get to that for the time being.

Finishing his cigarette, he tosses the bud into a puddle. Dragging a hand over his face as he prepares to walk back into the crowded restaurant that would feel completely empty because it was lacking the one fucking person he wanted to see.

He could go see him.

No he couldn’t. The ball already was in Steve’s court.

He opens the door and Zach is standing right there like he was waiting for him.

“What the fuck dude?”

“No. Shut up. Someone is in the break room waiting for you.”

Billy doesn’t get the chance to register his words before he’s being grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged and pushed into the room, where Steve is sitting at the table.

Just looking at him. Studying him.

“Look, Steve –“

“Stop.” He cuts him off. Continues to stare before hesitantly reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out what looks to be a ziplock plastic bag. Opening it and dumping the contents of it out on the table all while Billy is left standing there unable to speak, couldn’t even if Steve would let him. The ability to get words out being entirely suppressed by the sight of about ten slips of paper spread out on the table in front of Steve. Steve just looking back down at them and not looking back at Billy. Lost in another trance. He starts moving them around on the table. Moving them away from each other so that none are touching each other and they are all completely exposed. Steve smiles. Gets up from the chair.

Walks over to where Billy stands with his back pressed against the door, holding tightly to the handle for a quick escape. Steve moves so slowly, like he’s forging his plan with each step until their chests are just inches away from each other. Steve’s looking down, away from Billy’s gaze. Taking Billy’s hand in his, causing him to shudder. “You know I rushed over as soon as I could. Thanks for the lunch Billy.” Billy’s just silent and completely still against the door. Steve’s hold on him is loose yet he feels entirely restrained. “I can’t believe it was you.”

“I’m sorry.” Billy practically chokes on the words, prompting Steve to finally turn his eyes up toward him. Seeing how his eyes have grown glossy and his face has turned a pinkish color.

“What for?”

“That it was me.”

Steve squeezes his hand tighter, brings another to Billy’s cheek gently and Billy feels like he’s being suffocated under the touch. Like instead the hand is wrapped around his throat and pushing against his airway. But he leans into it. Steve’s touch is so soft and he lets his eyes fall shut to burn the sensation into his memory.

“Don’t apologize for that.”

His eyes are still closed when Steve moves forward and kisses him. Shooting open as soon as lips make contact and he suddenly stiffens like a board. It’s quick and chaste and he doesn’t get the opportunity to kiss back before it’s over.

“You can’t… you don’t –“

“But I do.”

“This isn’t a joke, Steve.”

“I agree.”

Billy’s left standing there. Rubbing at his lips that were just touching Steve with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Steve smirks, moves back into Billy’s space so his breath is hot against his mouth.

“You could kiss me, asshole.”

Billy doesn’t need to be asked twice.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #mandi writes tresh #fanfic #harringrove heart-on #harringrove heart on #stranger things

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2manyfandoms2count · 4 years ago

Text

I love you (not) - Chapter 8

Somehow, this went over the 2k words mark. No wonder I'm running late on @marichatmay now. Oops? (I guess I just really like writing cooking scenes)

Hope you enjoy!

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

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Chapter 8: In which the kids think about kissing each other a lot, but it's still too early

Chat Noir’s heart was heavy as he made his way towards Marinette’s place.

He knew that his decision to break up with her was the right one; he’d kept up the charade long enough, and he wasn’t comfortable with the fact that she was reaching out for him through Ladybug. They’d undeniably spent some nice moments together, the memory of which he cherished dearly, but he was afraid that Marinette was getting too confident about the strength of their relationship (and the fact that he found himself thinking about her a lot hadn’t been an argument in favour of not playing along a little longer).

His already cloudy mood had further been dampened by the really sucky day he’d had. His father had come up with yet another fashion shoot, which had prevented him from attending the Kitty Section rehearsal he’d been looking forward to all week. Then, Lila had managed to get them paired up for a History project, which he wouldn’t have minded too much had it not been for the fact that she’d bragged all morning about a trip to New York she’d be making the week they were supposed to work on the task, meaning that he’d have to do all the work himself. Finally, to top everything off, an Akuma had interrupted the only free period he had for the rest of the week; it had been nice to see Ladybug, but he wished he’d used the time to collect his thoughts and rehearse what he’d say to Marinette.

He landed on her balcony with a loud thump, and knocked on her skylight.

“Just a minute!” she called out, and he heard her rifle around her room before running up her ladder and opening her skylight.

“Hi,” she beamed, slightly flushed and breathless, as she ushered him in.

He felt his heart clench in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was better that she seemed in a great mood, but he didn’t have time to ponder on the topic too much; she tugged him down the stairs, and all but pushed him on her chaise, before reverently presenting him with a wrapped package.

“Happy birthday, kitty.” She bit her lip, anxiously waiting for him to open it.

Chat Noir toyed with it. He’d been so busy in the past week that his lie about his birthday had completely slipped his mind. He found himself in a difficult situation. Either he could come clean to her about his intentions, and apologise about everything he’d put her through, or… He could open Marinette’s present. Which, knowing her, would be very thoughtful and amazing. She looked very excited about it.

The temptation was too great.

“You remembered!” He gave her a small smile as his claws gently tore through the tape, and found himself with a neatly folded knitted, black product on his knees. He got up and held it out before him; he had to lift it for it not to drag on the floor, it was so long. She hadn’t just seen something that made her think about him. She must have spent ages working on it. For him .

The bright green paw in the middle, associated with the matching cotton sheet that lined the blanket left little doubt as to that fact.

Marinette’s smile falling and her rambling snapped him out from his silent admiration of the gift. He engulfed her in a hug, holding her close to compensate for his speechlessness.

“It’s purr-fect, Princess,” he croaked, letting go of her and clutching the blanket again. “I mean, look at this stitching; how did you manage to get it so regular? And this yarn…” He purred as he rubbed it against his cheek. “It’s so soft.”

“Well, you deserve something that isn’t scratchy,” Marinette giggled.

“But you didn’t have to go so hard on this! This could almost be… A cape!” He wrapped it around his shoulders, holding its two top corners with one hand, and bowed before her. “Your knight at your service, Princess.” He took her hand and kissed it with a wink, before immediately standing up and wrapping it around him differently, therefore missing Marinette’s tension and flush. “It works as a toga, too!”

“A very historically accurate one at that,” Marinette snorted.

“Hey, you don’t know what my predecessors wore.” He crossed his arms over his chest. The top of his makeshift toga fell over them. Marinette grabbed a couple of safety pins and moved closer to him to secure it back.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m utterly ignorant when it comes to past Miraculous wielders,” she said as she did so. “Mind teaching me about them?” She looked up at him. She was very close, for the second time in the evening, her eyes glinting mischievously in the almost half-light.

His breath hitched as the thought that he’d only have to lean in a tiny bit to kiss her curious smile off her lips crossed his mind.

His stomach rumbled, then, and he jumped back, feeling his cheeks redden. He was about to use it as an excuse to leave when he noticed the colours had drained from Marinette’s face.

“I’m so sorry Chat! I forgot to make you some macarons!” She gasped.

He almost laughed at how cute she was, but smiled tenderly instead, and held her shoulders. “Marinette, you made me a full blanket yourself in one week. I’m good without the macarons.”

“But you don’t have a birthday cake, and you’re hungry, and ugh, how could I forget...” She rubbed her eyes frustratedly.

His stomach manifested itself again, proving her point. With all his interruptions, he wasn’t sure he’d eaten more than an apple since breakfast. He really should be going to right that wrong.

“Okay, that settles it.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her trap door. He quickly stepped out of the blanket and tossed it back on her chaise; it wasn't very practical to walk in. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she started to open it. “My parents are sleeping, I think, so we’ll go down to the bakery kitchen. We’ll need to be quiet, though.”

“Okay,” he whispered back.

They cautiously sneaked down the stairs, stopping at any floorboard creak, hearts racing as they listened for any movement. They remained silent even after Marinette had carefully closed the front door of the apartment behind them, holding each other’s hand tightly, as if the stakes were much higher than Chat being sent home and Marinette to bed if they were discovered.

“It’s a bit late to make macarons, but how do you feel about chouquettes?” Marinette hid a sly grin as she turned the light on in the kitchen. She knew exactly what he thought about them.

“That seems like an excellent option.” Chat’s eyes lit up hungrily.

“Good. Could you turn on the oven? 250°C.” She indicated, while she took out the ingredients.

“Oui, Chef.” He executed. “What next?”

“If you could measure out 250mL of milk, then pour it in this saucepan,” she handed him a carton of milk and a measuring jug, before putting the saucepan on a hob and adding other ingredients to it. He followed her instructions, then, seeing as there was barely any left in the container, chugged the remainder, before sighing contently and throwing the carton over his shoulder, without looking. It landed straight in the dustbin.

Marinette paused in the middle of cutting the butter, baffled.

“What?” Chat asked when she’d stood there, blinking, for a couple of minutes.

“I’m sorry, what was that ?” She shook her head and waved her knife between him and the dustbin.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t ask if it was alright for me to finish it,” he said sheepishly. “I can buy you another-”

“I’m not talking about that, although maybe I should, because how stereotypical that you, a cat superhero, should drink milk,” she waved his apology away, raking the butter into the pan. “I’m talking about your aim. Do you play basketball?”

“Sometimes.” Chat scratched the back of his head. It wasn’t exactly true. He’d just perfected the art of landing baskets from any angle of his room out of boredom; it’d been his biggest challenge for a while.

“Maybe you should try out for a team or something.” She handed him four eggs, a bowl and a whisk. He started breaking them.

“If my schedule clears up, maybe.” He doubted his father would encourage the idea. He’d repeated that Agreste men were soloists enough times that Adrien sometimes heard it in his dreams; and unlike fencing, basketball was a team sport.

“Oh, right. Of course.” Marinette nodded. She hesitated to probe further; on the one hand, she was curious about what her partner was up to outside of their duties; it was difficult to probe how he was holding up, sometimes. On the other hand, she was afraid of learning too much about him. She decided to change the subject. “Could you gradually add the eggs to this while I mix?”

“Of course!” He cleared his throat. “These really aren’t hard to make, could you write the recipe down for me so I can make them again at home?” This was going to make great patrol snacks. He was sure Ladybug would appreciate them.

“Yep, no problem!” She finished stirring the ingredients together and pulled out a baking tray and two piping bags. She poked around for greaseproof paper while Chat filled the latter with the batter, before remembering that her parents had mentioned that they’d ran out over dinner.

“Hmm, this isn’t the most traditional way, but we’ll put some flour on the tray and then pipe the chouquettes directly on it. Would you mind taking care of that while I get the sugar?”

Chat nodded, grabbing the bag. He started sprinkling the surface, reaching in the packet every so often. It made the flour fly out a little, tickling his nose. He scrunched it, trying to get rid of the sensation, but it was no use.

He turned away from the tray and prepared to sneeze, instinctively putting the hand that still contained flour in front of his nose… Just as Marinette came back next to him.

“Achoo!” White powder flew everywhere, and Marinette jumped back.

“Ew, Chat!” She exclaimed, quickly dusting it off of her.

“I’m so sorry!” His eyes widened and he bit his lower lip, trying to contain his smile at her bewildered face. He had to admit, white hair looked nice on Marinette.

How cute , Marinette thought, before mentally slapping herself. No matter how true the statement was, it wasn’t helping at all. She reached for the packet and threw a fistful of flour at him to distract herself.

“Hey!”

“An eye for an eye!” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Is it really, though? I didn’t do it on purr-pose,” he said as his eyes landed on the flour packet.

Marinette started backing away, seeing exactly where he was going. “Now, now, no need to be rash about this, remember, we still have to cook the chou- eek!” She started running around the kitchen island as Chat sprung into a chase.

“Come back here, you little scoundrel!”

“Chat please! Think about your poor stomach!” She switched direction as Chat did the same.

“It can wait.” He grinned, gracefully leaping over the island.

Marinette squeaked again as she jumped out of his way, but found herself stuck between two shelving units. Chat approached her slowly, his devilish smile getting wider as the distance between them vanished. He pulled a fistful of flour out of the bag, and she felt her heart beat faster in her chest. Not just because of the imminent threat.

“I’m sorry Chat, I shouldn’t have done that…” She trailed off, backing herself further against the wall. “But this is going to make a mess, think about the clean up…” She pleaded.

Chat paused, his fist above her head losing a bit of its contents. She blinked slowly. Cat kisses, he thought. His eyes flickered to her lips. He wondered what it’d be like to kiss her, for real. He dared not go down that route.

“You’re right.” He shook his head, and brought his arm down, releasing the flour he’d been holding in the packet. “If I’m going to make a mess…” He paused, taking a small step back, and Marinette sighed in relief. “Better do it right.” He lifted the packet and emptied it all on her head.

“What the-” Marinette spluttered out, starting to get rid of it. She heard Chat laugh as he watched her, without so much as offering his help.

“Say cheese!” She was suddenly blinded by a flashing light, and her head shot up.

“Sorry, had to immortalise the moment.” Chat grinned, showing her the picture on his baton.

She glowered at him, and he moved out of her reach, just in case she decided to retaliate.

“You can’t be mad at me, I’m the birthday boy!”

She rolled her eyes, the hint of a smile forming on her lips as she finished dusting off most of the flour from her clothes and went to fetch the broom. Little did he know, she couldn’t be mad at him at all, since, A, she supposed that she’d been in the wrong in the first place, and B, it was him . Not that she’d admit it out loud, though. “I guess you’re right. You’d better hurry up making the chouquettes, then, else I’m putting you on broom duty.”

Chat happily complied.

---

As he left Marinette’s house, a full packet of warm Chouquettes in hand (he’d made his choice between it and the blanket), he had to admit to himself that even though he hadn’t accomplished his goal, it didn’t really matter.

There’d be plenty of other opportunities to talk to her, and he couldn’t say no to the opportunity of having fun; they were too rare an occurrence to pass up on.

#flour scene sponsored by that fic i started writing years ago and never finished :')#marichatmay2021 #marichat may #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #ml #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #marichat #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #day 10: cooking together #elle writes #love you (too)

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yikesharringrove · 4 years ago

Text

His Fault.

Thank you @thinger-strang for the commission! 💕

Read on Ao3

Steve took Max first, grabbing her around the knees and lifting.

He didn’t know which kid was which, just picked them up and shoved them through the hole in the ground.

No thoughts in his head besides getting the kids to safety.

He was still dizzy from the fight, from Max’s wild driving, from being thrown into low oxygen conditions.

He grabbed Dustin.

The last kid to get through.

There was a rumble.

The ground shook.

And Steve stared death right in its face.

A pack of demodogs, heading right for them.

He grabbed Dustin, thought maybe, maybe he could shield him.

If this kid dies, it’s all my fault.

But the ‘dogs passed them by.

On their way to protect from El.

Because their plan didn’t work. Their carefully crafted idea to help El was bullshit.

He pushed Dustin up to safety.

He had brought these kids down here for no reason.

They had all gotten hurt for no reason.

All because of him.

Steve’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.

He was trying to get himself to get up, get out of the car.

Staring through the windshield at the small service.

Barb’s funeral.

The girl that died right outside his house. The girl who died in his pool.

The girl he killed.

By being too preoccupied with Nancy. By being too much of a stupid fucking jock.

It’s all his fault.

He got out of the car, stayed mostly to himself throughout the service.

He hugged Barb’s parents afterwards, offered his condolences.

He got the feeling that they never really liked him.

That’s okay. He doesn't really blame them.

And if they knew, if they knew what he did to their Barb-

They would do more than just not like him.

He spent the rest of the day in bed, thoughts of your fault your fault your fault whipping through his brain.

He killed Barb.

Steve was trying to think quickly.

It was a little tricky, what with the pounding in his head, the hits he was taking right to the gut.

He needed to somehow talk his way out of this.

Which sucked because talking has never been his strong point.

But he brought Robin into all of this. He had let Erica climb through those vents to get them into the elevator. He had helped Dustin suss out what the message meant.

Actually, he hadn’t.

He had been too fucking stupid to help with that.

No.

He had just encouraged the translation that was happening around him.

Had just walked three people right into the clutches of the Upside Down, and these violent goddamn Russians, and-

That one hurt.

He woke up sometime later to Robin yelling.

“Hey, will you stop yelling?”

“Steve! Oh my God! Steve!”

She sounded, actually relieved.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

Robin was sitting next to him, both wrapped in thick blankets.

They had their own ambulance, Nancy and Jonathan in the one next door.

He had watched them take Billy off on a gurney, watched them slam a defibrillator to his body until his heart started beating again, watched them load him into the back of an ambulance, and take him off to the hospital.

The adrenaline, the heavy drugs, it was all out of his system.

And he was crashing.

“I shouldn’t have roped you into this. I shouldn’t have talked Dustin into translating the tape, I shouldn’t have-”

“Okay, Dingus. Let’s get some things straight. I’m pretty sure Dustin talked you into the translations. I don’t know if you’d be able to talk Dustin into anything. And you didn’t rope me into shit.”

“I mean, I mean with the Upside Down. This whole fucking conspiracy. You deserved to go your whole damn life without knowing any of this.”

“But Steve, I know about it now. The milk has been spilled. So stop crying.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Yes, it is.

“Hi, welcome to Family- Nancy?”

Nancy had stopped in the doorway, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Steve. I didn’t know you were working here.”

“Yeah. You know, with the mall being all, burnt down. And stuff.” She nodded slowly, stock still in the doorway. “Can I help you find something?”

“No. Thanks. I’m just browsing.”

“Well, uh, let me know if you need help. Or ask Robin, maybe. She’s better with the recommends.” Nancy seemed to startle, stepping into the store properly.

“Thanks, Steve.” He smiled tightly at her.

They really hadn’t talked since breaking up.

Of course, they’d spoken in the summer, but that was less exchanging pleasantries, more how do we stop the giant fleshy monster that’s trying to take over the whole world?

Which isn’t quite the same.

She browsed through the aisles, Steve doodling on the carbon pad next to the register.

She smiled tightly at him, a few tapes in hand.

“So, uh, how are you?” They hadn’t spoken since that night. Since he wandered over to her ambulance, checking in with her and Jonathan.

“I’m okay. Just working and stuff. Obviously.”

“And how’s Billy?”

“Managing. He’s in all kindsa therapy and stuff now.”

“That’s, that’s good.” She was all stiff as he handed her her change. “It’s good to see you, Steve.”

“Yeah, Nancy. Yeah, you too.”

He hated how shitty and awkward that had been.

Hated that she was the person he felt closest to for the better part of a year, and now they’re stuck with light conversation and forced smiles.

He pushed her so hard.

Always poking and poking.

Always too clingy, always too emotional, not emotional enough. Too insensitive, or just too much work.

He doesn’t know how anyone puts up with him.

“Hey,” Billy smiled softly at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, now that my little nurse is here.” Steve rolled his eyes, smiling back as he sat on the bed next to Billy.

He had brought him to his house from the military hospital.

Billy still had a long road of healing. His scars were pulled together, and the wounds were closed, but everything was still pretty rough.

“Can I get you anything?” Billy reached over for him.

His hands were scarred and rough, and he was still trying to regain feeling, the nerves having suffered far too much damage.

“Nah. Just sit with me.”

Steve took one of his hands, stretching his hand like the doctor had shown him.

“Have you eaten today?”

“Nah. My stomach’s all outta whack today. Don’t know if I could keep anything down.” Steve furrowed his brows.

“Are you, can I make you something? Soup?”

“Stevie, I’m okay. One day’s not gonna kill me.” It felt like the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Something must've shown on his face because Billy was trying to sit up. “Sorry, that was a shitty joke.”

“No, I just-”

“It’s okay. Sorry.” Steve tried to gather himself.

“Don’t like jokes about you dying. Thought you were dead for, for like a week, you know. Before they told us you were stable.”

“Baby, it’s alright. I know it was hard on you.” Steve blinked rapidly.

“But I mean, it’s like, youwere the one, the one in the hospital I shouldn’t,” he stood up, Billy wincing as the bed shifted. “I’m gonna make you something.”

He was holding back tears as he spread peanut butter and jelly onto saltine crackers.

Billy had the best luck keeping it down when he felt sick.

He felt like shit whenever he did that. Got all mopey on Billy.

Billy was the one trying not to die in a hospital bed. Steve was just, doing what Steve does.

Making everything about himself.

He brought Billy the plate, kneeling next to him in bed.

“You okay?” Steve just shook his head, plastering on a nice smile for Billy.

“I’m fine, Bill. Just try to eat? For me?”

Billy managed three of the crackers before he heaved into the garbage bin placed next to the bed.

Steve felt like shit.

Billy’s core muscles were still healing, and throwing up only made him sore, made him tired and in pain.

“Billy, I’m sorry.”

He shouldn’t have made Billy eat. Shouldn’t have tried to make himself feel better by force-feeding Billy while he felt bad.

When he finally stopped, Steve helped him to the bathroom to wash out his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Steve, it’s not your fault.”

“But you said you didn’t feel good.”

“You’re just trying to take care of me.”

Keyword here being trying.

Trying and failing at taking care of Billy.

“Steve, are you busy tonight?” Dustin had thrown open the door to Family Video stomping inside.

“I mean, no but I thought, isn’t tonight your big tournament?”

Dustin sighed dramatically.

“The arcade is closed.”

Dustin had been saving up for months, using the end of the summer to mow neighbors’ lawns.

Steve had even paid him to mow his own lawn.

He and the gang were going to rage for hours, Dustin organizing a special secret prize for whoever got the highest cumulative score.

He had put so much thought into everything, had been so excited.

And the arcade was closed.

“Can I talk to Keith?”

“Be my guest.”

Dustin pushed into the backroom.

Steve could hear his voice, could hear him arguing with Keith.

He came back out, Keith following behind.

“Harrington, I told you, customers aren’t allowed in the back.” He pointed to the Employees Only sign on the door. “Can you even read?” Keith rolled his eyes. Steve studied his shoes.

“And Henderson, I told you, the arcade is closed for renovations. A pipe burst in the storeroom.” Dustin Huffed. “Just, rent a movie or something. But you know, don’t ask for Harrington’s recommendation.”

Keith laughed to himself as he retreated to the back.

“Like I would ask you for a recommendation. I know what kind of movies you like.” Steve forced a smile at him.

“Sorry about your game night.” Dustin shrugged.

“I thought it’d be fun. We haven’t played DnD since Will moved. It just feels wrong without him, I guess. I thought this could bring us back to the fun spirit.”

“It’s a good idea. I’m sorry you’re gonna have to postpone.”

Steve just kinda lived with a big ol’ bit in his stomach these days.

But every time something like this happened, something where his friend was sad, and Steve was completely useless to help him, the pit seemed to grow.

He wonders what happens when the pit gets too big.

Billy stretched his arms above his head, wincing slightly.

“You okay?”

Billy blew out a breath, rubbing his chest.

“Yeah. Just cold. It hurts.” They were standing outside, waiting for the kids to be finished with school.

Steve drove Dustin and Max home, usually brought Billy along with him.

Neil had been one of the flayed, the only casualty Billy said he didn’t feel bad for.

So Max had moved with her mom into a tiny two-bedroom house.

Billy was still staying with Steve for the time being.

“Oh! I got a sweater in my trunk.” Steve ran around to the back of the car, unlocking the trunk and digging through.

He kept his car pretty clean, just his bat, some jumper cables, and a go-bag.

So he should see the sweater right away.

But he didn’t.

He frantically shifted everything around.

“No, no.”

The sweater wasn’t there.

“Fuck are you, are you serious?”

He genuinely could cry.

Billy was blowing into his hands, rubbing them together when Steve slumped back over to him.

“Billy, I’m sorry. It’s not in there.” Billy squinted at him.

“That’s okay.”

“I thought it was, but I must’ve taken it out, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Just, you know, come here and make it up to me.” He had a lazy smile on his face. “Come keep me warm.”

Steve wrapped himself around Billy, burying his face in his neck.

“I wish I could keep you warmer. I wish I had that sweater.”

“Baby, I’m okay. Just achy.”

Steve made sure to turn up the heat full blast when they got back in, the kids in the backseat.

“Fuck!”

The bottom of the box had given out, tapes crashing to the tiled floor.

He had been on his way to reshelve everything, after spending all day in the back rewinding.

But here he was, checking each plastic tape for cracks as he tried to find something else to put them in.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington.”

Ah, yes. That’s what he needs right now. Keith standing over him while he cleaned up the mess of tapes.

“What’d you do now?”

“The box, it just fell apart.”

“You know, Robin really went out on a limb to you to get this job.” Keith was standing over him, staring down at Steve sill kneeling on the ground. “Maybe I should just fire you both.”

“Wait, no!”

Steve’s heart was in his throat.

It felt like he was gonna choke on it.

“You, you can’t, I don’t care if you hate me, okay, just, just don’t fire Robin!”

Keith loved to do this. Dangle his measly power as manager over Steve.

Robin said it was some kind of revenge fantasy for how shitty Steve was to him in high school.

Steve just figures he deserves it.

Bottom of the food chain now. That’s where he is.

The guy that thought he was the hottest shit to walk the Earth. The guy that barely graduated. The guy that had to linger around his hometown. The guy has no life. The guy that has no future.

“Why not? She vouched for you.” Keith was eating a pack of M&Ms, crunching each one loudly between his teeth.

“Just, just don’t.” Steve felt like he could cry.

“Then get this cleaned up, and I’ll consider letting you both stay.”

Steve just nodded.

He didn’t think his voice would work without cracking all over the place.

He found a crate in the stockroom, stacking the tapes as quickly as he could.

He liked reshelving.

The organization system made sense, and he could do it easily without having to know anything about the movies, without having to know anything besides the alphabet, and the genre sticker each tape had.

Robin was better with customers.

Better at making change and recommending movies. Better at talking to people without sounding like an idiot.

But he finished reshelving, and had to retreat behind the counter.

“You’re being weird today.”

Steve had zoned out, staring through the front windows.

“Sorry.”

“Bad night?” he just nodded slowly. He didn’t want to tell her about Keith’s little threat. She would just go on a rampage. Probably yell at him a lot. And if Steve being a fuck up didn’t get her fired, defending him for sure would. Plus, it’s not like it’s a lie. Most nights are bad. “Steve, are you sure you’re okay? It feels like,” she glanced around. “It feels like you’re getting, like, worse.”

“Sorry.” She furrowed her brows.

“That’s not something you need to apologize for, you know that, right? I’m just worried about you.”

“Sorry.” Her face pinched up even more.

“Steve.”

“Yeah, I, just you know. Not sleeping much.”

“I could come over? You said it’s better when there’s sound in your house. I can stomp around for a while.” He huffed a laugh through his nose, giving her the biggest smile he could muster.

“That’s okay. I’m managing, Rob.” She raised one eyebrow. “And besides, I, uh, I won’t be home tonight.”

She made a face at him, pursing her lips so she didn’t smile.

Billy had gotten his own apartment with the money the government had given him, a little thank you for your discretion gift when he was released from the hospital.

He had spent nearly a month in a coma, a month in which Steve had only left his room a handful of times. After waking up, delirious, and in pain, he had spent the next six months in heavy rehabilitation, in daily therapy, both mental and physical, in which Steve practically lived at the hospital with him.

They had bonded more than Robin could ever know, both boys spilling everything to one another, every dark thought, every bad memory.

Long story short, they were inseparable.

“Then have a fun night. And talk to Billy. Tell him you’re struggling.”

“I’m not-”

She stomped her foot, giving him a stern look.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Shit.”

Steve knew he had a key to Billy’s apartment.

But it wasn’t on his key ring.

“Are you kidding me?” He knocked on the door.

It took Billy a few minutes to come get him.

“I’m sorry, I, I lost my key.” Billy looked tired . It was Thursday. Billy was a stockboy at Meldvald’s on Thursdays. His doctor said getting a job would be nice, that it would help him rejoin society, make him feel good to support himself, all this shit.

Mostly, it just made Billy’s sore.

“It’s okay.”

“No, but, it’s not on my ring! I don’t know where it fell off, it could be anywhere, you might have to change the locks or-”

“Steve! It’s fine. Just get in here.”

Steve snapped his jaw closed. Billy shuffled back to the couch, groaning as he sat down slowly.

“Can I get you something? Have you eaten? I can rub your back if-”

“Harrington, just come sit with me.” Billy was giving him a little half-smile.

Steve stumbled over to the couch, and tucked himself right under Billy’s arm.

“What are we watching?”

“Some soap. There’s been a marathon all evening. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.” Steve leaned his head against Billy.

He had no clue what was going on. Had a question on the tip of his tongue, ready to ask about the plot points, the characters.

But he’s bothered Billy enough tonight, making him get up to open the door, always, always bothering-

“Hey, where’d you go?” Billy was stroking one rough hand through his hair.

“Nowhere.”

“Robin called me from the video store.” Steve sighed, burying his face into Billy’s neck. “We’re worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I’m okay.”

“Yeah, you’re always okay.” He said it like he was mad, like he was frustrated with Steve.

He pulled back, sliding to the other end of the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry.” Billy was staring blankly at him. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad. What are you even-” he cut himself off. “Steve, talk to me. You’re getting, distant.”

“I’m-”

“Please stop apologizing.”

Steve swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you. You’re slipping through my fingers, and I don’t know how to help you.”

“I-” Steve’s throat was closing up. “I don’t know what to do.”

Billy shifted stiffly, reaching out for Steve’s hand.

“Talk to me, Baby. You know I’ll listen.”

“I, uh, I just.” His jaw was moving, but he couldn’t form any words.

Billy took his hands, pulling him gently.

Steve let himself be tugged, let himself fall into Billy’s lap.

“It’s all my fault.”

“What’s your fault?”

“All of it.”

“Can you, maybe elaborate?”

“Everything. It’s all my fault.” His chest felt pulled tight, and he couldn’t fucking breathe. “Everything, everything. My fault.”

Billy had no fucking idea what to do.

Steve was breathing sharply, his eyes squeezed closed.

He had both hands in his hair, pulling roughly.

“Steve, hey.” He took his wrists, trying to stop him. “Steve, I need you to breathe, okay? Can you do that?” Steve shook his head.

“Just, just try to take as deep a breath as you can, okay?”

Billy was trying to remember what his shrink had told him, the tips for dealing with his own panic.

But watching Steve fall apart, well. It was hard for Billy to keep it together.

He sat with Steve, holding his hands until he opened his eyes, until he was breathing without Billy reminding him to do it.

“Steve. Sugar. Talk to me.”

Steve was still slumped over, still had his head in Billy’s lap.

He turned to bury his face in Billy’s thigh.

“Sometimes I feel like the world is crushing me. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Can you explain that to me? You said everything was your fault.”

“Like, like Barb. She, it was my fault she died, and my fault the kids almost got hurt in the tunnels, and my fault that Dustin and Robin and Erica got stuck in the lab, and, and, and I’m so bad at taking care of you. I can’t do anything right.”

Billy could feel his tears, wet patches soaking through his sweatpants.

“You do a lot of stuff right!”

“Keith told me he was gonna fire Robin today, because I messed up again.”

“Fuck Keith. No way that creep has firing power. And maybe you should talk to Robin. Or go to your boss about him. He just likes going on a power trip with you.

“And as for, well everything, Pretty Boy, none of that was your fault. Barb was killed by, by a monster-”

“At my house, at my party, in my pool.”

“Still not your fault.”

“I thought she had left, you know? I didn’t know she was out there.”

“That just proves my point! You didn’t know she was out there, you didn’t know what was going to happen. That whole event , it had nothing to do with you. And the kids like, fully kidnapped you to bring you to the tunnels. If anything, that’s my fault for, you know. Doing what I did.”

Billy took a deep breath.

“I know a lot about guilt. I know how it feels like you’re just, you’re drowning. And you’re never gonna get to the surface, but that, that stuff. People make their own choices. You can’t control what other people do, you can just control what you do. And you, you do nothing but good. You just love, and you love, and you love. You always do what you think is best, and that’s what matters.”

“I feel bad all that time. Like, like right now I feel bad because, because of course you feel guilty, and I’m saying shit that doesn’t matter, and my problems they don’t-”

“Don’t you dare say your problems don't matter.” Billy was tangling his fingers through Steve’s hair, playing with it gently. “Your problems matter . They matter to me. It hurts me that you're struggling. It hurts me that I didn’t notice.”

“Billy, it’s not your fault.”

“You say that like it’s so easy. You take my guilt and you ease it. And that’s what I want for you.” Steve wasn’t crying anymore, but he was still curled up on the couch, still had his face pressed against Billy’s leg.

“I don’t know how. I’ve been so thoroughly crushed under all this that I’m scared of what happens if I claw through it all.”

“Maybe you won’t feel like shit all the time.”

“Feeling like shit is the easy part. It’s predictable.”

“I know. It’s safe .”

“Yeah. What do people even think about if they aren’t thinking about all the problems of the people closest to them and finding ways to blame themselves?” Billy laughed at that. Steve could feel his belly moving next to him.

It was a nice moment.

“I don’t know. That’s what movies and books are for. When you’ve got shit else to think about because you’re not trapped under a mountain of guilt.”

“Probably why I’ve read so few books, then.”

“We need to start watching more movies.”

“We need to talk about Steve.”

“Hi, Robin. It’s great to see you. How’s your day?” Robin rolled her eyes. She was leaned over the counter at Family Video, flicking through a magazine.

“He had a break down last night.”

“Finally. He’s been hanging on by a thread for weeks,”

“Yeah, try years.” She looked up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“He like, unloaded fully. He still blames himself for the girl that got killed in his backyard.”

“Wait, he thinks that’s his fault?”

“Yeah, and the kids in the tunnels, and also you and Dustin and Erica being brought into the whole mess. And also that he’s bad at taking care of me? Which, don’t know how he got that one. He does a really fucking good job taking care of me.”

“Jesus. He’s like, stressed.”

“To put it lightly.”

“So, what’s up? Where do I come in?”

“I’m planning an evening. A We Love Steve Harrington party.”

“I can be snack duty.” He smiled at her, clapping her on the shoulder. “It just us?”

“Yeah. I figured to leave the kids out of this one.”

“Good choice.”

“Be over at seven.” She nodded once, giving him a two-finger salute.

Steve was curled up, Billy spooned up behind him when there was a knock on the door.

“Go get that, will you? I’m all stiff.” Steve turned around, looking at Billy all concerned. “Go on. I’m okay.”

Billy had to shove him away before he finally went to answer the door.

“Oh, Robin, uh, hey.” She pushed one of her shopping bags into his arms.

“I was invited for an evening of bolstering you up.”

Billy came lumbering in, throwing himself down on the couch.

“I, don’t get it.”

“Robin’s here because you need some lovin’.” Steve’s bottom lip wobbled.

“That’s really nice.”

“You deserve it.” Billy was looking at him seriously.

Steve tucked himself into Billy’s side, Robin shoving herself next to him on the little couch.

Billy had pulled out all his lumpy blankets, and they had already torn into a box of cookies.

Steve was all warm.

Curled up in the blankets, watching The Aristocats.

“Thank you, guys. For this. It means a lot.”

“Can it, Dingus. Thomas O’Malley’s gonna sing.”

#sorry if this looks like shit on mobile #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #robin buckley #fav platonic soulmates #Dustin Henderson #harringrove fic #commissions #fic commissions

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pinkykitten · 4 years ago

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truth or dare

- @someoneovertherainboww heey i dont know if u tak requests but i loved ur writing and i was wondering if u could make prompts 20 and/or 25 for zuko pls prompt(s): “i’m not playing truth or dare.” “why don’t you take a picture? it’ll last longer.”

pairing: zuko x female! reader words: 2,210 genre: modern au, high school au, cafe au, fluff, comedy, requested

a/n: tysm!!! yes requests are opened atm! omg while writing this i thought of that thing that dante said at like a con or something where he was ordering at starbucks and the lady was like omg ur zuko!!!😂 art in title isnt mine! hope yall enjoy this ball of cheesiness that cures my acne and enjoy the love that i have for zuko to make me become a disaster for him （＾コ＾）V

Your back ached from the way you hovered over your laptop and sat at your desk. Your mind was focused on learning and getting good grades it didn’t mind the pain. Your eyes burned from the strenuous gaze at your blue screen. Your hands felt as if you churned butter and not to mention the mean girls were extra rude today at school. High school was tough and you needed the rest of the day to be filled with relaxation and peace before you hit the books tomorrow.

“Where are you going?” Your best friend Sokka asked through the phone.

You hopped off the bus with all your items almost spilling out of your bag. “I’m going to Fire Tea Shop. I read the reviews online and people say its pretty good.”

“No, c’mon Y/N you had your chance. You mean its pretty lit!!!!” Sokka sounded too much like a kid that had eaten edibles.

“I’m hanging up,” you said deadpanned. “I don’t even know how I’ve kept up this friendship this long. I’m so proud of myself.”

“Its because you love me.” Sokka sang.

“It might be because I think you need my help. If I wasn’t with you and had your back like where do you think you would be? Probably eating crap off a cave right now and starving.” You walked up and inside the cafe was so cozy. It had an earthy yet red contrast feel to the place. It sure matched with the name Fire. It had some vintage Chinese architect to it. It was stunning and really caught your eye. And it was peaceful. “Do you want anything babes?” You asked as you looked at the menu. “They have cactus juice.”

“No!” Sokka shouted on the phone. “I tried that, I couldn’t get out of the bathroom the whole day! Plus I thought I saw like mushrooms of some sort.”

You snickered, “baby, I think you’ve been eating too many mushrooms!”

“I’m good. You enjoy it there.”

You said your goodbyes and hanged up the phone. As you did an old man came up with a long beard to say his welcoming.

“Hello there, young lady. Might I interest you in trying our newest tea? White Jade tea. It’s very delicious.” He smiled wide.

You read his name tag. He was such an adorable old man. “Hmmm, Iroh? Actually since this is my first time I want to try your most popular tea. How about-”

“So White Jade?” Iroh was about to punch in your order when you heard a shriek and what seemed to be a pot dropping on the floor. “One moment please. That is probably my angsty, incapable nephew that made a mess. Please look to see what you would like.” Iroh made a hasty get away.

Out came a teen your age as he rubbed the back of his head. He was so handsome looking. His hair was disheveled and he wore a red apron. His attitude really attracted you. “Good thing I made a distraction, that White Jade tea is not a hit. I’m not that good at making tea also. That’s more my uncle’s job.” His voice was low and had an edge to it. It was so handsome.

“Oh he’s your uncle. That’s sweet!” You grabbed your wallet out. “I would like a Jasmine tea please.”

“Good choice. My uncle loves that tea. That will be $4.25.”

You grabbed your money and went to give it to him when you saw the huge scar. It was red and didn’t scare you but you couldn’t look away. The thoughts that went through your mind was how in deep pain this person must of been in to endure and cope through that painful wound.

“Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

You wanted to hit yourself. You were taught to have manners and here you were staring at this young man. He probably felt self conscious and insecure and you made him feel worse. “Oh my God I am so sorry. I wasn’t meaning it like that. I’m just sorry that you had to go through that.” You read his name tag. “Zuko. Its a beautiful name.”

Zuko’s nose flared up, “yeah, thanks.” He grabbed forcefully at the money and you sat and awaited your order.

You dug your head in your arms. ‘Why are you like this Y/N? Why did you stare?’

“Here is your tea miss,” Iroh instead brought the tea out. “My nephew felt he didn’t want to scare you away.”

You bit your lip, “I am so sorry. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to make him feel uncomfortable. It was so insensitive for me to do that. Please can we start over.” You felt so bad and guilty.

Iroh thought about it then pointed to the tea. “I make the tea myself. Taste it and I’ll think about your offer.”

You sipped the warm tea and no lie it was amazing. He definitely knew what he was doing. You weren’t thinking it was fantastic because you wanted to make amends with these folks but it was actually the truth.

“Honestly?”

Iroh nodded.

“This is really good and totally what I needed today. Thank you for this and please take this tip.” You gave Iroh the money. “Its a way to say I’m sorry.”

Iroh saw the money and smiled wide, “I can think we can find it in our hearts to forgive you.”

You finished your tea and went to the order counter and rang the bell. Zuko came out thinking you left.

“Yes?”

“I was thinking. Do you maybe want to go to the park tomorrow and catch some lunch? Its A way for me to apologize for my behavior today.”

Zuko looked around sheepishly, “I don’t know.”

“Please,” you pouted your lips.

Zuko agreed and the date was set.

After school the next day you went straight to the cafe.

You were going to be honest in saying Zuko was really cute. You were nervous and thinking about him the whole day non stop. You even dressed up for the occasion which rarely happens! Even Sokka knew and wouldn’t stop teasing you the whole day. He should of been your hype man but he made you feel like a little girl with a crush!

“You ready Zuko?”

“Yeah just give me a sec.” Zuko went in the back and came back with a changed look. He wore instead a red bomber jacket. Could he be anymore boyfriend material?

“Love the jacket.” You poked him on his side and he blushed awkwardly.

The way to the park was more silent and you were considering if this was a bad idea.

“So do you go to school or are you home schooled?’ You tried to break the ice.

“Actually, I go to the school not to far from here.” Zuko pointed in the direction your school was at.

“Wait! I think we go to the same school! Yeah, I’ve seen you before!”

“I’m not that hard to miss.” Zuko, in a way, brought up his scar.

“No I would remember you from being so handsome.” You smirked. Zuko almost choked. “That school sucks though. Its the same everyday. Work my butt off and then get kicked around like dirt by the schools mean girls. I feel like my life is a movie sometimes.”

“Yeah I get made fun of too.”

“I’m sorry.” You touched his arm.

“My dad did this to me,” he pointed to his scar. “Didn’t like me as a son and loved my sister more, I guess.”

“It’s a touchy subject. I didn’t realize it, I’m sorry.”

Zuko chuckled which was something new to you and almost shocking, “you can stop saying sorry. I already forgive you. Its not a big deal. I like you though, I think you’re cool.”

“Thanks.”

“And those people that make fun of you, they're crazy. They're probably jealous of you because you're so beautiful.”

You almost died right there! You were like already ready to get married to this man it felt like. Would it be wrong to ask if he was single? You prayed and hoped he was.

You two sat at the bench. It was such a peaceful, sunny day. You crossed your legs and faced him. “So Zuko, lets play truth or dare!”

“I’m not playing truth or dare.”

“Alright I choose dare to get it started.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. He knew you weren’t going to do this. “I dare you to ask that old lady over there if she knows any place that sells laxatives.” You shot up and Zuko immediately regretted it. “Y/N I was just kidding. Let me do another one.”

“A dares a dare my man.” You fist bumped your chest like the warrior you were. You went up to the old lady like a lost kid.

Zuko couldn’t help but laugh hard and try to shy away from the world.

You ran back and fist bumped the air with a skip. “In your face fire prince!” You nicknamed him. “She said around the block they got a drug store. Boom! Now your turn.”

“Okay, truth.”

“Boriiiiiiiing! Oh my God! Fine! What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”

He groaned, “really? We’re going there? I said a joke, okay, that my uncle said and it came out terrible the punchline left the building and nobody laughed. It was [pretty brutal.”

“I would of loved to see that,” you said in awe. “That’s full on cringe right there sweetie.”

“Okay, you now.”

“Truth.”

“Sissy much?” Zuko raised his brow.

“Hypocrite! I’m just following your footsteps.”

“Okay, feisty. Have you ever kissed anybody?”

“Totally!” You struggled on that one. It was such LIES!

“You stumbled on that one. I can tell you’re lying.”

“Yes, fine I am. I’ve never kissed anybody in my life okay. Only my pillow. I’ve practiced on that and lets just say its been through a lot.”

“Wow,” Zuko tried to stifle his chuckles, “you’re unbelievable.”

“And what about you? Have you ever kissed anybody?”

“It’s not my turn.”

“Truth or dare?” You were starting to see a different side of Zuko that you really liked. He was fun and made you smile.

“Truth.”

“Have you ever kissed your girlfriend?” You wanted to see if he was single.

“I’ve kissed before but I don’t have a girlfriend.”

You legit wanted to party and cry because this could actually happen. “Who’d you kiss?”

“A customer.”

“Oooh, you have to spill the tea on that later. I choose dare!”

“I dare you to try your first kiss with me.” Zuko raised his brow.

Oh my Lord was he serious? You were sweating profusely and at an alarming rate. “Are you for real?”

Zuko nodded his head, “it is a dare. And you wanted to start this. I told you not to.”

“I’ve never kissed anyone! How do I do it?”

“Just look at me and try it out and I’ll critique it.”

“I’m kinda hating you right now.” You glared at Zuko. “Only 3 seconds okay.”

Zuko surrendered to that and you closened up on him. He smelled of tea leaves that were light and airy and a burning flame of musk. He was really growing on you. You came closer and closer until your lips met. You wanted to keep still but Zuko moved his lips so you followed. You felt the whole shebang. Fireworks, butterflies, everything. You clutched onto his bomber jacket. They seemed so strong and vigorous the kisses but they were tiny pecks to start you off. Your lips moved in sync with his because you got the memo and started getting used to it. You looked down at your watch as saw that it passed the three seconds. Separating from him you wiped your lips, breathless for a puny kiss. It seemed like such a milestone for you and something so big but in reality some kids kiss their posters longer than what you did.

“How was that?” Zuko looked away blushing.

“Very invigorating and exciting.” You were speechless. You were such a daredevil is what you thought to kiss this complete handsome stranger. It was like a dream though. You stood on the bench and screamed out the park, “I just had my first kiss everyone!!!”

Zuko pulled you down, “oh my God it wasn’t that amazing. Chill out. I choose truth.”

You evilly smiled, “do you think I’m attractive?”

Zuko’s blush was even redder this time. “Yeah, you’re cute. My type.”

You wiggled your brows, “you’re type? You think I’m cute? He’s think I’m cute! I have finally a guy! Who thinks I’m cute! I have a chance! At not being alone! And being a crazy cat lady!” You sang as you shook your body. “Okay last one, I choose dare again. Yolo. Living on the edge.”

“I dare you to go on another date with me,” Zuko asked as he played with his fingers.

It was silent and you were surprised on one factor. ‘This was a date?’ You grabbed his hands and smiled at him, “I’d love to go on another date with you! And you said you didn’t want to play truth or dare.”

a/n: IROH IS SUCH A MOOD OMG 😂 and zuko is so sly and cheesy sdkgjfdskgfkgjfdgk omg. i loved this wayyyyy to much as u can tell and like made this like a chapter book bc im extra like that! would u kiss a stranger if he was zuko? i prob would bc im a thirsty nerd fam 🥵

Tag list: @carat-bebe, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @dirbel, @eastcoasthaven, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @melonreblogsstories, @fandomchick80,

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

Please Reblog, like or comment! It means a lot to me and I truly appreciate it:)

#atla x reader #atla #atla imagines #atla fanfiction #atla modern au #zuko x reader #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender x reader #atla scenarios #avatar the last airbender modern au #atla x you #atla x y/n #avatar the last airbender imagines #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #au #truth or dare

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imaginethatneathuh · 4 years ago

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The Hermit: Technical Boy - American Gods

Technical Boy x child!reader, father-child

Technical Boy needs to get away from the Drugs gods for a bit and comes across a kid.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop.

TW/CW: Blood, skull-cracking, hospitals, swearing, near-death experience (and making light of it), drugs, sex, starvation, adoption, fostering.

Word count: 3.6+ K

•

Sometimes, Technical Boy just needed some air. Everybody does, but with him, it was more of a necessity so he wouldn’t blow up at someone.

Sex (the druggie) had been teasing him a lot more than usual and he hated it. Sure, Weed and Coke tried to get her to stop, but she started doing it behind their backs, and if Technical Boy told Weed about it, he’d be a snitch. He did not want to be known as a snitch bitch amongst the drug gods. That would be a nightmare.

He could have asked for Weed to help him calm down, but he didn’t feel like calming down that way. He wanted some peace, not to get high.

So, here he was, walking down some random street in some random city because he didn’t want to be anywhere near the druggies.

Yes, they’re his best, and only, friends, but he doesn’t always want to get high. Being around them, usually meant getting high off them. Sometimes, it’s nice. Sometimes, it’s not.

Technical Boy, in a dice hoodie with the hood up and black sweatpants with fire at the bottom, stared at his phone, scrolling through the news.

It was a lot of shitty stuff.

He wasn’t surprised by that. The others, “family” of the druggies, were at it again. Those of that sort, those with the brown hair and eyes, it’s like they were born to create chaos and discord in the world.

Technical Boy rolled his eyes, scoffing. He slipped his phone away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The god turnt to the sky, eyes closed.

As he walked, passing by an alley, Technical Boy heard quiet sniffling.

Instead of stopping, he kept walking.

There were plenty of homeless people in the world. Not everyone is lucky enough to be born into wealth or lucky enough to be able to keep their homes. Some people get shitty deals.

Nothing he could do about it. Nothing World would allow anyway.

Still, the god noticed that the sniffing was much higher pitched than normal, adult sniffling. He had an entire database of sounds at his fingertips, and as a part of him and his domain. It sounded like the sniffles of a child crying.

He stopped and hung his head.

‘This had better not be a kid,’ he thought to himself.

He didn’t like children, in theory. He’d never actually met one but from movies and shows, they seemed insane. It’s likely, upon meeting one, he wouldn’t know what to do.

Technical Boy wasn't good with regular adults. Dealing with a child would be impossible.

So, instead of assuming he was right and the sniffling was coming from a child, he decided he was wrong and approached the alley’s mouth as if an adult was in there.

“Hey, man, you okay?” He asked.

The god peered in, trying to make out anyone.

Something small shifted around. It was far too small to be an adult like he’d hoped. The small thing poke its head out from underneath a small, makeshift cave of junk. It quickly hid after seeing the god.

Technical Boy looked around and sighed, shutting his eyes.

‘It takes, in total, from 0-18-years-old, $284,570 to raise a kid, and a good chunk of a parent’s day to take care of a kid,’ he thought. ‘I have the money, but I don’t have the time.’ He opened his eyes and looked at the makeshift shelter. ‘Why the fuck is my first thought taking care of the kid? I could drop them off at a home or something. That’d be easier.’ He walked closer, trying not to scare them. ‘But the foster system here is fucked. The kid could get hurt, be abused, or die.’ As he approached, he noticed the kid watching him. ‘But there are tons of good families who foster and adopt, too. They’re not all bad. 1.5 million kids have been adopted and roughly 140,000 kids are every year. So, there’s a good chance the kid will become a part of a family.’

The kid pushed themself away from the opening and into their shelter.

“Hey,” he said. “Hi, are you okay?”

Technical Boy knelt down and watched for the kid.

“Leave me alone. I’m fine. Go away,” they said.

There was a silence. The god did not leave.

“Please, go away?”

‘The kid sounds weak. Like they haven’t eaten in days. When was the last time they showered or took a bath, too? I can smell ‘em even from over here.’ Despite the disgusting alley floor, Technical Boy seated himself.

“Nope. Can’t. Brain won’t let me.”

An old, rusted out can came from the shelter, flying straight at Technical Boy. He easily dodged it.

“Wow, you’re a dick,” he joked.

He heard a small huff.

Slipping his hands into his pant pockets, he found candy, probably chocolate, that he’d forgotten about.

‘This is so not healthy for a kid,’ he thought, playing with the wrapper in his pocket. ‘But, it’s better than nothing.’ He took the candy out, finding a Snickers. ‘Called it.’

“Hey, you like chocolate?” He asked them.

More shuffling from the shelter. “No. Especially not from a stranger.”

“Here.” He tossed the Snickers into the mouth of the shelter. “Have a Snickers. It has nuts.”

A thin hand reached out and snatched the candy quick as a whip.

The tech god raised an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t like chocolate.”

Another can came from the darkness and he dodged it again.

The kid unwrapped the bar and used the wrapper to fill a gap in their home. Hungry, they scarfed the candy down.

‘So small. The kid must be starving.’ Technical Boy continued to watch the mouth of the shelter, his concern for the kid growing.

“You always around here?” He asked.

A small piece of glass was thrown at him but it didn’t get very far, falling an inch or so away from him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Technical Boy stood up and brushed himself off. “I’ll see you later.”

He knew it would be impossible to convince the kid to come out of their hole and come with him on the first meeting, but he hoped to convince them to go into foster care sooner rather than later. If he tried to tell the authorities, the kid could get hurt or worse.

He left the alley and the kid watched him do so.

•

Technical Boy, in the druggies’ kitchen, placed an apple and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a bag.

Weed walked in, smiling. “Whatcha doin’?”

He looked over, a water bottle in his hand. “Nothing,” he said, turning back to the bag. “Just making a bag of food.” He cracked open the bottle and closed it again.

“Who’s it for,” they asked.

The tech god shrugged, putting a small stack of crackers and a container of cut cheese in the bag.

Weed wrapped their arms around his waist and rested their head on his back.

After closing the bag, he placed a hand on Weed’s, chuckling. “I’ve got to go, Weed.”

“First, tell me who the bag is for,” they mumbled.

He shrugged again. “I don’t know,” he said before he turnt around to face them. “But, as soon as I learn what their name is, I’ll tell you.” He booped their nose with a smile. “Promise.”

Weed giggled, sleepiness in their eyes.

Coke rushed in and grabbed an apple off the table, one from Weed’s garden. He stopped before he left and turnt around. “Are you two having cute times without me?” He asked, with a goofy smile.

“No,” Technical Boy said as Weed rested on his chest. “I was trying to leave, but Weed is sleepy.”

Coke bit the apple and walked over before picking Weed up. They wrapped their arms around him, nuzzling into him.

“Thank you, C,” the tech god said, earning a nod from Coke who practically ran out of the room with the apple in his mouth and Weed in his arms. “Don’t fall!” He shouted after them. Technical Boy picked up the bag and left for the alley.

•

The kid shoved a few cans into place on their mountain of junk. Technical Boy watched them work for a little, not wanting to interrupt until they were done. When they finished and started to head into their home, he approached.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “Brought you something.”

The kid, at the mouth, stared at him like a deer in headlights before rushing into their cave.

Technical Boy sighed and walked to it. “Ya know, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, kid.” He dropped off the bag of food at the mouth of the cave before sitting down farther away.

They snatched it up as soon as they thought he was far enough away.

Technical Boy sat, crossed-legged, and watched for any signs of anger..

“You trying to poison me?” They asked.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Cap’s been opened.” The water bottle rolled to his feet.

He rolled it back. “Nope. I opened it for you. Those fucker’s are annoying and the ridges hurt.”

The bottle slipped into the darkness.

The kid, inside, sipped on it. “Tastes gross,” they said, pulling a face.

“It’s bottled water. It never tastes right.”

The two sat in relative silence as cars drove past and the kid ate. The occasional pedestrian peeked into the alley, giving Technical Boy odd looks, but he didn’t particularly care. He was used to it.

As the kid finished, they asked, “Why’d you come back?”

“Felt like it.”

“Why’d you bring me food?”

“Felt like it.”

“Are you a rapist?”

“No. You?”

They laughed a little. “No. Are you a peadophile?”

“No. That’s gross.”

“Are you going to tell the police where I am?”

Technical Boy sighed. “If I wanted to do that, I would have done it yesterday.”

“You gonna kidnap me and sell my organs on the blackmarket?”

“Sounds like too much work,” he said, stretching. “I’d rather hire someone to do that for me instead.”

Crunching came from the dark hole. It wasn’t cracker crunching. More like, a horse mowing down on a carrot or apple.

“This tastes good.”

“Yeah, a friend of mine grows their own food. Doesn’t like the food from stores. I’m pretty sure they want to start raising livestock, but, I don’t know.”

“Mhmm,” they said before tossing the core over his head into a nearby dumpster. “Do you think you could bring more?”

Technical Boy nodded. “Definitely. If my other friends don’t eat them all first. But, harvest was good, so I doubt they’ll all be gone.” Technical Boy pulled out his phone and texted Weed. “I’ll text them to hide some of the apples from the others just in case though.”

Carefully, the kid peered out, staring at his phone.

“There. Done,” he said, putting his phone away. “They’ll hide some for ya.”

A can came at him but he ducked.

“You told them?” They growled.

Technical Boy put his hands up in surrender.. “Woah, hold your horses there, kid. I haven’t said shite to anyone. I just asked them to put some of the apples away, that’s all.”

Inside the hole, they looked him up and down. “Can I have my can back?”

“No, it’s mine now.” The god pulled the can behind him protectively.

The kid giggled.

A text popped up on his phone. Technical Boy looked down at it and rolled his eyes.

“What?” The kid asked.

“Nothing, just my boss being a dick.”

The container Technical Boy had filled with cheese rolled out on it’s side.

He opened it to find a few crackers and some cheese. “I made the bag for you, kid. Not for me.”

“I know. I just don’t want you to be hungry.”

“Thanks.” He smiled softly and ate the cheese and crackers even if he didn’t really want to.

“My name’s not kid, ya know,” they said. “It’s Y/N.”

“Technical Boy.”

“That’s a weird fucking name.”

The god shrugged. “Should a kid your age be swearing like that?”

They shrew a can at him. Instead of dodging, he caught it and put it behind him with the other can. “Mine,” he said.

“Nuh-uh!” They said. “Gimme my can back!”

Technical Boy shook his head. “Nope. You threw it away meaning anyone can claim it. So, I did.”

Y/N huffed. “Dick.”

•

Weeks passed and every single day, without fail, Technical Boy came to Y/N’s little home with food and conversation. Once or twice, he brought clothes and blankets. He very well couldn’t let the kid freeze. What kind of person would he be if he did? Even though both Media and World didn’t like his disappearing acts and he got repeatedly scolded and punished for it, he didn’t care. For some reason, he found he had grown rather fond of the rude kid. He liked to believe they had begun to like him, too. Even if it was just a little, itty-bitty bit. The god no longer wanted to let them go into the foster system, rather, he wished to take care of them himself. But he knew Y/N wouldn’t agree, no matter how much they liked him. They were much too independent for that.

Since he’d started coming, little Y/N had grown in both width and height. No longer skin and bones, they moved around more and even left the confines of their home for more than building.

“I’m stronger now, so I can kick you better if you try anything,” they had claimed.

Technical Boy chose to see this as them trusting him more.

•

Technical Boy dropped off a bag of food at the mouth of Y/N’s home and sat farther away.

Y/N came out, sitting in front of the mouth in the light. They opened up the bag and smiled.

“Apples,” they mumbled.

Technical Boy smiled as they rifled through the bag. “Yeah, that’s the last of ‘em, though. Won’t be more until the next harvest.”

“Thanks.” Y/N looked up and gave him a pained smile before looking back down.

He shrugged and played with one of his confiscated cans. “It’s whatever, kiddo.”

Y/N tossed him a fruit snack baggie. He caught it but dropped his can.

“Ya gotta stop doing this, N/N,” he said, opening the baggie. “You need to eat more than I do.”

They flipped him off.

As he ate the gummies, he watched Y/N scarf down everything. At least that hadn’t changed.

“How are you feelin’? You think you’ll be okay here during the colder months? They are getting closer,” he said.

They looked up, some jelly on their mouth. Y/N wiped it away. “I’ll probably be fine. More fat means more insulation. Plus the blankets you gave me.” They picked at the sandwich. “Are you still going to come, even when it snows?”

“Of course, kiddo. Come rain or shine, hail or snow, I’ll be here until you don’t want me to be.”

Y/N stared at him for a while before crawling into their home. Inside, they rummaged through their things, pulling out bits of scrap and pushing away blankets. After a while, they found what they had been searching for and returned to the outside world.

Outside, they stood up and walked over to Technical Boy. They presented him a beaten up and squashed Snickers bar and refused to look at him while doing so.

Gently, the god took it from them. A Snickers bar, just like the one he’d given them when they first met. A strange, warm feeling spread throughout his chest and he smiled.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Instead of going back to the cave, they plopped down next to him and wrapped their arms around one of his. They nuzzled into his arm and held on tight.

It was a rather odd sight. A much larger, muscled man with an odd style choice and a clean visage being clung onto by a small, dirty child no older than 10, no younger than 5.

Looking down at the kid, Technical Boy knew he had to protect them, no matter what. This was his kid now. They had been for some time.

•

Another day, another bag for Y/N.

Technical Boy did as he always did, placed the bag at the mouth of the makeshift shelter and sat down opposite of it.

But, Y/N did not come out.

The god waited for a few minutes. When they still had not come out, he called for them. Still, there was no response. Technical Boy stood and walked over.

Placing a hand on the top of the mouth, he looked inside. “Y/N, hey, are you okay?”

Y/N lay limp in the makeshift nest.

“Y/N?” He nudged their legs with one of his hands.

Still, they didn’t respond.

Crawling a little into the small space as best he could, Technical Boy shook Y/N’s shoulders. “Y/N, wake up. Kid, please. This isn’t funny.”

Nothing.

At this point, the god had gone from fine to freaking.

Wrapping an arm around them, he pulled them out of their shelter.

A giant, bloody gash spread around their eye and eyebrow. He could feel blood on the opposing side like they’d been hit with something and cracked their head on concrete. They were cold, freezing really.

‘Please, be okay,’ he thought.

Their back pressed up against his chest, Technical Boy, through his tears, gently smack their cheek.

No response.

He calmed his breathing, shutting his eyes tight. ‘They can’t be gone. Not yet.’

Hoping beyond hope, Technical Boy checked their pulse, pressing his fingers to their neck over one of the carotid arteries.

After a few minutes of silence, he could feel a faint heartbeat.

They were alive.

The god let out the breath he’d been holding, sighing in relief.

His kid was going to be okay.

He stood up. Picking them up bridal-style, he held them close.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered to them. “You’re gonna be okay.”

•

Pacing in the waiting room, Technical Boy picked at his lip.

‘I should have asked them to come with me,’ he thought. ‘I should have made them come with me. This could have been avoided if I had just taken them. They’d be fine right now if I hadn’t wanted to respect their autonomy. The streets are no place for a kid.’

He sat down in one of the chairs, elbows on his knees. His hands interlaced in prayer and he bowed his head. Though he trusted his technology to save them, he couldn’t help but pray they would be okay. Almost immediately, his heel started bouncing against the tile.

“Mr Brown?” Someone asked.

Technical Boy looked up and then stood. “Are they okay?”

The person smiled, probably a doctor, and nodded. “Their skull had been cracked open and they lost a lot of blood, but they’ll be okay,” they said.

“When can I see them?” He crossed his arms, watching the doctor for their reaction.

“You can go to the room, but they won’t be awake for some time.”

“That’s fine. I just- I need to see them.”

They nodded, smiling sympathetically, and gestured for him to follow them.

•

The doctor showed him to Y/N’s room and gestured for him to go in.

Technical Boy, as soon as he laid his eyes on them, sighed in relief.

The bandages surrounded their head and one covered the gash around their eye and eyebrow.

He walked to their side, his eyes never leaving them. As he got to their side, he gently cupped their cheek and rubbed it. He knelt down.

“I’m sorry, N/N. I should have given you some way to contact me or something,’ he whispered to them.

•

The first thing the kid felt when they woke up was something in their arm. It wasn’t painful, just weird. The second, and more enjoyable, feeling was someone holding their hand and the warmth coming from it. Y/N groaned slightly and opened their eyes, only to find Technical Boy gripping their hand, asleep, with his head resting on the bed.

The view looked strikingly similar to their dad when they were younger.

“Tech?” They asked, struggling to get the nickname out.

When he didn’t respond, they nudged him. He groaned a little. Struggling, Y/N got up, feeling a little lightheaded, and, still gripping Technical Boy’s hand, they tugged on him.

The god groaned again and rubbed his eye with his free hand. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, looking up at them. “How ya feelin’?”

They tugged on him again and mumbled something.

“What?”

“Hug.”

Technical Boy chuckled and leant forward, hugging them tight.

Y/N hugged back, nuzzling into his neck.

“You fucking scared me, kid,” he said. He rubbed their back gently as he broke away from them.

Y/N immediately took his hand back, not wanting to be seperate from him. “Feel like I got hit by a brick and cracked my skull open on the sidewalk before crawling back home,” they rightfully complained.

Technical Boy rubbed their cheek, concerned. He dropped his hand and took their other one into his. “I know you probably prefer being on your own, but I really care about what happens to you and I don’t want you to be on your own,” he said as he looked them in the eye.

“Whatcha sayin’?”

“If you want, my place is plenty big for two people and it’s always open to you.”

Y/N was quiet. So quiet, in fact, Technical Boy thought they might have shut down like they always did when he said something they didn’t like and didn’t have something to throw at him.

“Will it be safe?” They asked.

He nodded.

“Okay, but I’m not calling you dad.”

Technical Boy chuckled lightly. “I wouldn’t expect you to, kiddo.”

#american gods #american gods fanfiction #tarot troop #technical boy #technical boy x reader

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dimancheetoile · 3 years ago

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time differences mean i certainly HOPE you’re not working still, but Top 5 kitchen utensils?

Honestly, I wish I was still working. I'm having a paranoid episode and I genuinely think it's one of the worst thing that's ever happened to me mentally.

put “top 5” anything in my ask and i will answer ok go

But this is truly a vital question, so here we are:

5. The peeler. That thing is impeccable. Top-tier level kitchen utensil, I use it every day. Fits perfectly in my hand without needing too much grip, which, for disabled, hurting fingers, is incredible. The first utensil my parents taught me how to use as a kid, we were always cooing on the boat. I love that thing so much, bless its cold steel heart.

4. The thing for doing a specific thing to vegetables (I'm so sorry. I don't know the English name and my brain isn't cooperating rn to find an alternative). Again, one of the oldest things I was taught to use, super useful especially in summer when you make lots of cabbage salade.

3. The cheese-grater with a handle. Growing up, we never had grated gruyère at home, only big slices we would use to then grate with this thing. Nothing beats it

2. The hachoir (yeah I gave up and now use the French names, sorry). Perfect design, perfect concept. It looks straight out of a fantasy novel, like this is used by druids and witches at the same time as rogues and warriors. It's also amazing for so many things in cooking, preparing the parsley and garlic, mincing walnuts and almonds for bakhlava, I love it.

Honorable mention for the whisk because it's the most beautiful utensil imo, but a bit too common to be truly be on this list. Also, once I was in vacation visiting British friends of our family an we spoke almost exclusively in English with some French sprinkled in. Twas a couple years ago so my English was completely acceptable, but still sometimes a bit weird. So of course, as I was making a blueberry cheesecake for us all, I asked Maggie where the whisk was by saying "I'm gonna need the whip too, can you get it out for me?". And there was this silence. Oh, this silence. But she laughed really hard after that so it was ok.

Honorable mention for the presse-ail, (garlic crusher?), also. Because garlic.

1. Snail fork and its accompanying snail plate. As you probably know, snails are a fairly common thing to be eaten in France, especially in two regions where they're a regional dish: in Bourgogne (the wine and Dijon mustard region) and in Languedoc-Roussillon (yes I refuse to use the new region names, they're dumb as bricks and I hate them tyvm) (also L-R is the most southern region, making up the curve of land above the Mediterranean sea, and it's famous for its wine and Provence vibe).

I happen to be born and raised in Bourgogne and now living in L-R so you can imagine how often I've eaten snails in my life. I like them a lot tbh. In Bourgogne, the species is larger and imo tastes better, and we prepare them with butter, garlic and parsley, then cook in the oven in the shell, or inside a puff pastry it's great. In L-R, they throw them in an oiled pan and kinda stir-fry them a bit, then make a sauce with tomatoes, oignons, garlic, provence herbs (that's rosemary, thyme, basil, oregano) and olive oil. But if you eat them the Bourguignon way, you need a special dish with holes in it to put the shells in as they cook, and a special fork to get the snails out.

So there you go, my top 5 kitchen utensils!

#mako talks #now that's quality shit-posting #i had fun ok

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greenygreenland · 4 years ago

Text

Padawan Pt 1: (platonic) Anakin & Reader [unedited]

-remember how I said I'd make a post about having Anakin as your master after Ahsoka's leave?

-yeah it's been like a month but here ya go

-you're a stone-cold girl because you haven't had anyone to melt your heart yet

-you're also insecure

-tell me if you want more of this pleaseeeee because the arc after Ahsoka leaves is the one with Fives and the chips (and send some dialogue prompts or ideas)

Summary:

After Ahsoka leaves the Order, Anakin's assigned a new padawan. The Council thinks it's a 'good' idea to help Anakin move on (their decision was influenced Palpatine). What they don't know was that this was another layer to Palpatine's plans for the future (more loss = more pain = more dark side anakin).

Anakin was angry--no, infuriated. How dare they? How dare the Council think anyone could replace Ahsoka? They could give him fifty thousand different kids to train, but none of them would ever amount to the value Ahsoka held. Why? Because they'd never be enough to fill that hole in his battered heart.

Anakin didn't know who this '(Y/n) (L/n)'was, but he heard enough tea from the younglings to know that she would only be a burden. They called her 'Bean Bag' because she was tossed through a few different hands, or masters in this scenario. Some couldn't handle her, some died in battle, and others straight-up dumped her back at the Jedi Temple. No one knew the true reasons as to why (Y/n) almost never had a permanent master, besides the Council.

And it so happened that they decided to assign (Y/n) to Anakin Skywalker.

"Oh no." Anakin grumbled with a humourless chuckle. "I'm not having another padawan. I don't need one, and I'm not good with kids. Either way, isn't she a little too old to not have a master?" Obi-wan placed a hand to his chin from where he sat in the rounded room. "Fifteen is not that old Anakin. You know that most padawans aren't chosen until they're about thirteen fourteen. (Y/n), on the other hand, was first chosen at a younger age."

"Eleven." Windu interjected. "She was chosen at a eleven." Anakin's eyes widened. "That's too young." Windu looked like he had eaten a whole lemon. "That is exactly what I said. (Y/n)'s first master saw potential in her though, and argued that her age helped her see the galaxy through s 'different lens'. She trained her well, but fell in battle. After that, (Y/n) found a new master."

Obi-wan folded his hands together and said, "He was not as kind. When we found out about his mistreatment, we transferred (Y/n) to yet another master. He was most definitely kinder, but also fell in battle." Anakin knitted his brow together as Obi-wan continued. "The master after that also fell in battle, so..."

"You thought I'd be her next master?" Anakin grumpily finished. Obi-wan's gaze softened like butter on a hot day. "Try to understand, Anakin. It would be a waste to send (Y/n) back to the temple. She is immensely strong with the Force and needs someone to teach her the qualities she needs."

"Which is...?"

---

"Confidence and trust." Anakin said. "That's what I'm told you needed help with. And according to Obi-wan, I'm the 'perfect candidate' to help." He wanted to roll his eyes so far that they'd disappear into his skull. Why was he doing this again? Oh right, because the Council said so. Not because he accepted (Y/n) as his padawan.

"Correct...Master." she firmly said. Although (Y/n) didn't look the least bit timid, he saw it in her eyes. The uncertainty in her deep (e/c) hues along with her subtle body language was enough of a tale to give him her life story. She had emotional trauma. Period. Anakin's brow crinkled as he eyed (Y/n) carefully. She didn't dress in the traditional robes like the other Jedi. Instead, she wore a fitted long sleeved shirt with a hexagontal shape on the chest, a belt, leggings, and knee-high boots.

For someone lacking confidence, she sure had the audacity to stand out.

"All I have to say is that confidence and trust can't be taught. It's learned through experience and time." he announced. (Y/n) obediently nodded, and it was then that Anakin saw her as a soldier. The way she stood at attention was stiff and rigid, just as his men stood when he gave orders.

"Stop standing like that." Anakin grumbled. "It's disturbing." (Y/n) relaxed her stance a bit, but her expression remained rock-solid. Anakin wanted to point that out because he was so uncomfortable in her presence. It wasn't that she came off as a creep, no, far from that. When Anakin looked into her eyes, he saw a fragment of himself, of that little fiery hot hatred he so deeply resented when he looked in the mirror.

"I suggest you get to know the 501st. They won't just be under my command, but yours too." Anakin motioned to the camp a few feet away. Trees loomed over the tents and supplies, casting long shadows and an eerie darkness over the site. The forest used to be a camp ground, but because of the Separatist occupation, it was now a battlefield. "Very good, Master. I will get to know the 501st." (Y/n) said with a bow. Anakin raised a brow as she scurried off into the camp. Very good, Master? Who the heck says that these days? A soft sigh escaped Anakin's lips. Just what was the Council thinking?

(Y/n) wasn't sure what to expect as she made her way into the campsite. Glares, frowns, and looks of sympathy were all she got in the past from her men, but these boys? They were different because they were under the command of General Skywalker. The 501st was a creative bunch, and so was their General, which was all the more reason to believe them to be open minded.

Or so (Y/n) hoped. The men didn't exactly react to her presence. Maybe they were too busy, or didn't care to acknowledge her presence. Whatever the reason, it made (Y/n)'s shoulders slump. For all she knew, they wouldn't like her. She had a very demanding presence, an eternal stone-cold face, and eyes as scorching as Mustafar.

"Hey Kid!"

(Y/n) hesitantly turned to face the clone. Although his eyes were warm and bright, a hefty tone lay beneath. It was clear the clone with the tattoo had been through a lot, but what clone hadn't? (Y/n) tried her best to offer a smile and said, "Greetings." She took note of the group of onlooking boys sat on crates under a tent.

"Are you our new commander?" the clone amiably questioned. (Y/n) nodded. "Yes." She didn't fail to notice the boys in the background gawking. "I'm (Y/n) (L/n). Pleasure to meet you...?"

"Uh, Jesse. The name's Jesse." He seemed to shrink under (Y/n)'s gaze. "Those boys over there are Fives, Kix, Tup, and Dogma." (Y/n) peered over Jesse's shoulder and offered a good-natured wave. The boys waved back and a tense beat of silence settled over everyone. "Do you want to sit with us?" Fives inquired. "It's lunch time, and we have all the rations here." He patted a crate next to him with a kind smile. Jesse made his way over to his brothers, (Y/n) in tow.

Jesse took a seat by Kix while (Y/n) sat next to Fives. She wasn't sure how to feel about that since she rarely sat next to anyone. Her shyness was partially to blame, along with the anxiousness that came with talking to people. Someday, (Y/n) knew she had to get over that. That someday so happened to be today.

Tup handed (Y/n) a pack of rations. His soft expression reminded (Y/n) that she was a Jedi, not some scared, awkward teenager. "Are you fresh out of the temple?" he questioned. It was an ice-breaker to get to know her--after all they'd see her everyday from now on--but what Tup didn't know was how touchy the subject would be. (Y/n) forced a calm exterior. "No. I've had my fair share of masters."

Fives raised a brow. "So you've had multiple masters? Never thought that was a thing." (Y/n) nonchalantly ripped open her ration packet. "Well, now you do. I just hope this one will be better than the last." No one pushed the topic any further. It didn't take a Jedi to understand how heavy the atmosphere had become.

"Your name's (Y/n) (L/n), right?"

(Y/n) eyed Fives as if he were her prey. Her sharp gaze burnt holes into his face, but he didn't seem to care. "Yeah."

"Isn't that like, a Mandalorian clan?"

(Y/n) humourlessly snorted. "And what if it is?" Although she looked absolutely calm on the outside, her heart seemed to shatter within. She knew her clan to be prestigious and powerful, but not well-known. What was she, a celebrity? (Y/n) didn't want the attention.

What kind if warrior begs for mercy?

It was all so much because what if the clones didn't like her for her after this?

You're Mandalorian?

What if they started treating her differently?

Why don't you start acting like it?

What if...

"I should--" (Y/n) forgot what she wanted to say. Her cool front melted as she lamely fiddled with the packet in her hands. Gosh, what was wrong with her? Why was she being so weak?

"I apologise if I offended you Commander." Fives said. (Y/n) frowned. "I-no. No, it's not your fault." A short, tired sigh escaped her lips. "Ni cuy' an di'kut." Tup knitted his brows together as if he were hurt. "Why would you say that? You're not stupid." (Y/n)'s eyes widened. "You understood that?"

Jesse smiled. "You get bored of the battlefield every now and then. It's good to make use of time."

"And it makes it a hella lot easier to spill the tea." Fives added. The mood seemed to lift as (Y/n) watched the clones' interactions. The way they punched each other in the shoulders and teased was always a relationship (Y/n) craved to have. It was unfair how clones always had each other to lean on. (Y/n)?

She had no one but herself.

PT 2

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #clone troopers #star wars x reader #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #star wars the clone wars x reader #anakin skywalker #i'm sorry i can't add read more i'm on mobile

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myhusbandsasemni · 4 years ago

Text

Malachi: Alive Again

For the writing trade with @marlynnofmany

My prompt was something along the lines of a ghost being brought back to life. What’s the hardest part of now having a corporeal form?

............................

The little ghost watched as Zoey left the room. He turned to examine the little ygg’drasil sapling she had in a magic container. There was a bit of a sheen around it as he looked.

His ghostly fingers reached out to touch it. They went straight through the unseen barrier. He had long forgotten what it would be like to touch something without having to focus on actually holding onto the object.

Malachi felt the tree hum with life, something he had not had for 2000 years. He had not even grown much emotionally since dying. He was still very much a 7 year old at heart. He had mostly dazed in a corner unless intruders had entered his castle. Intruders like Aph and Anisha. They had come in and woken him up and he had defended himself from what he thought were threats, but they had proved to be loving people and had taken him in.

The tree seemed to pulse as he touched it. He smiled. He stopped smiling when the sapling exploded, magic and a high buzzing sound filling the air. Malachi fell back in the crater the tree had made in the floor, feeling debris sinking through his body. He stared at a wall in shock, before he passed out.

………………………..

Malachi woke up to a feeling he hadn’t had in a long time. Pain. He had a headache. He opened his eyes with a little whine to see his adoptive mother, Aph, standing over him.

“Malachi,” she breathed, relief evident in her face. Her hand brushed over his forehead. He startled at the sensation. It was real and clear and…. Physical. He looked at his hands, sitting up. They were real. He felt his chest and sides and face.

“I… I’m alive!” he exclaimed, his now green colored eyes bouncing to Aph’s face. She smiled, tears in her eyes and laughed as she took him in her arms.

“Yes. Yes you are.”

………………………..

Levin was enthralled with his adopted brother’s new solidity. And watching Malachi rediscover solidity again amused him as well. As a ghost, Malachi had often cut through walls on corners, even when walking along with someone living. So the first time he got up and tried to do that, Levin had laughed at him for a solid minute as he struggled to get up, finding gravity a bit difficult as well.

The first night as a human, Malachi felt the pain of hunger. It was so hard to wait to eat. The adults were putting together a feast to celebrate, and Malachi had been very grateful to Anisha when she snuck out a few rolls for him to snack on while he waited and got used to the fact he would have to learn how to open doors again. The taste of the butter and bread made him sit on the floor so he could stop focusing on balancing on his feet and just focus on the taste and texture in his mouth. He almost bit his tongue, twice.

At dinner, he ate and ate and ate and ate. Anisha was the first to notice that he was eating just as much as her and told him to stop. It was too late, though. He had eaten way more than his body could handle, but not enough to throw up. He spent the night laying on his bed and cursing the betrayal of the food in his stomach.

Still, he was very happy to have a real form. He could give Aph, Laurance, Anisha, and Levin real hugs. He could feel the dirt under his feet. He couldn’t stop touching things. He often touched things he shouldn’t, like the grating of the fire for instance. Still, he enjoyed it all, even through the pain. He had never felt more grateful for anything in his life. It was good to truly feel things again, even if it was his constantly stubbed toes.

It took him a long time, and I mean years, to learn how to like sleep, though. But, then again, he was just a kid.

The Adventurers tag list: @dowings @writeblrfantasy @artrayasnow93 @doubi-ixi @extraisthmus @thethistlegirlwrites

#writing #ghost #funny #wip the adventurers

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years ago

Text

The Convenient Groom: 10/14

Well, here it is everyone! One of the chapters I have been really looking forward to! There’s no kissing, but I give you platonic bed sharing plus emotional hurt/comfort with a side of jealousy. Enjoy!

Summary: Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it could also mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that. Written for @spartanguard .

Rating: M

Words: about 5k in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging:@snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @distant-rose @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan

Emma sighed as she polished off another piece of toast. She brushed the crumbs from her lap and relaxed into the comfortable chair on the back porch. She enjoyed the view of the ocean and the soothing sound of surf. It felt wonderful to be out in the fresh air after days cooped up inside sick. She contemplated going back to the kitchen for something more substantial, but she had given Killian her word. Besides, she’d already pushed her luck by spreading an extremely thin layer of butter on her toast.

Her cell phone started ringing on the patio table, and she jumped as if Killian had some sort of sixth sense about the butter. It was Ruby calling, however, not Killian.

“Hey, Rubes.”

“Hey, Ems,” Ruby’s simple reply was laced with meaning, “sooo, how’s it going being married to Mr. Hottie? Please tell me he leaves crumbs in the bed or smells really bad when he first wakes up in the morning. Otherwise I’ll be depressed over the state of my love life.”

Emma laughed as she flicked a few more errant crumbs off her pajama pants. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s annoyingly neat. As for what he smells like when he wakes up, I wouldn’t know.”

There was a fumbling sound on the other end and a muttered curse from Ruby. “I’m sorry, I almost dropped my phone. How the hell do you not know? Please tell me you’re not -”

“Making him sleep on the couch? Well, yes. This isn’t the fifteenth century where I sold my body for a goat or something.”

“So the poor man has to sleep on the couch indefinitely?”

“Well, technically, I’ve slept on the couch the past couple of days. I had some sort of stomach bug.”

“That sucks, Ems, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Killian took good care of me.

“Did he?” Once again, Ruby’s voice was laced with unspoken meaning.

“Don’t start, Ruby, he was just being nice.”

“If he took care of you when you were sick, I personally think you should let him back in the bed.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I can’t let him back in bed if he was never in it to begin with.”

“Girl, I would change that arrangement ASAP.”

Emma just laughed and shook her head. “Ruby -”

“Emma,” her friend countered, “if you’re going to be married to that for a year, you might as well enjoy it.”

“And the purpose of this call is exactly . . . “

“Fine, fine,” Ruby muttered, “straight to business, if that’s what you want.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Okay, well Regina asked me to call and go over your itinerary for the book promotion.”

Emma rose from her chair to go back inside and find her laptop so she could pull up her calendar. “That’s good. I feel so out of the loop. I mean, I’m back to normal at my practice, but the new book has honestly been the last thing on my mind.”

“I don’t blame you with that fine piece of -”

“Ruby,” Emma cut her off, “focus.”

“Right, right, okay . . . so, we’ve got that interview set up on The Tiana Show. And Regina did tell you that will also have a Q&A segment with the audience, right?”

“Mhm,” Emma said as she scrolled through her calendar, “yeah, I made a note of that.”

“They also requested that Killian be there, and Regina okayed it.”

“Wait - what?”

Ruby’s voice was reassuring. “They just want him in the audience. You know, so they can pan to his reactions and stuff.”

Emma slouched back on the couch and wearily rubbed her forehead. “Ruby, how could the two of you not check with me first? Killian has a business to run. He might not be able to take off to New York in the middle of the week.”

“I don’t know, the man seems pretty willing to come running when you call.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, never mind,” Ruby said hurriedly. She changed the subject to the next item on Emma’s itinerary, and Emma didn’t press it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what her friend meant by the comment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Killian came home from work, he had a huge pot of chicken noodle soup that Elsa had made. It made Emma wonder if the woman cooked anything but soup. She was also grateful for something to eat that wasn’t toast. Personally, she could go for a cheeseburger, but she doubted Killian would agree.

He did, however, agree to eating outside on the back porch. He also said nothing when Emma slathered a hunk of French bread with butter. The bit she had at lunch hadn’t bothered her stomach, not that she would tell Killian that.

“Why do you look so nervous?” Killian asked her after blowing on a spoonful of soup.

Emma jabbed at a chunk of chicken with her spoon rather than looking at him. “I just have to ask you something, and I’m a little nervous you’ll be pissed.”

His forehead creased. “Why would I be? Emma, seriously, you can ask me anything.”

Emma gave him a tentative smile. “That’s sweet, but it’s just . . . well, my agent kind of agreed to something for you.”

Killian rested his elbows on the table. “Okay, I guess that was inconsiderate of her, but I’m not going to blow up about it or anything. Especially not at you.”

Emma let out a breath of air. “Good, and I told Ruby that they need to ask first from here on out.”

Killian tore a piece of bread from the loaf and dipped it into his soup. “So, what is it? I may have to tell them no, depending on what it is, but . . . “

He trailed off and shrugged as if to say he would have an open mind about it.

“They want you to go with me to do a talk show in New York City in a couple of weeks. Not to be interviewed or anything,” Emma rushed to add, “just to be in the audience. The show wants you there for like, reactions or whatever while they’re interviewing me.”

Killian nodded, completely calm, and it honestly threw her more than if he’d gotten pissed. “That’s fine with me. When is it?”

“A week from this coming Wednesday?”

He shook his head at her as a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to phrase it as a question. I don’t bite, love. Unless you ask me to, that is.”

He punctuated the innuendo with a wink, and she rolled her eyes as she laughed. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

“I try.”

“So can you do it?”

“I don’t see why not. I don’t have any plans.”

“But isn’t this your busy time of year? I mean, with all the tourists around.”

He reached out and took her hand. “Not so much that I can’t take one day to support your career.”

Emma felt her jaw drop slightly, and her gaze flicked to where his thumb was caressing her knuckles. When he saw her expression, he quickly pulled his hand away and cleared his throat.

“I mean, that’s the whole reason for this arrangement, aye?”

“Right,” Emma said with a nod, “to save my career.”

Silence fell between them as they continued eating their soup. Emma drained her bowl with a sigh, almost embarrassed at how ravenously she had eaten.

“Did that hit the spot?”

“Definitely,” she replied, patting her stomach, “I just hope I don’t regret it later.”

“I’m sure if your appetite has returned that you’ll be fine. Besides, it was soup.”

She nodded, regarding him thoughtfully as he continued to leisurely eat his own dinner. “So,” she finally worked up the courage to ask, leaning her elbows on the table, “your half of the bargain was that I would casually help your brother out with his marriage. But from what I see, they’re fine.”

Now it was Killian’s jaw dropping as he paused his eating, spoon held in midair. Emma arched one brow at him.

“Well,” he finally said, resting his spoon on the table, “they do love each other tremendously, and Elsa’s good for Liam -”

“But?”

“But, there’s been some tension lately.”

Emma searched his face intently as she rested her chin on her clasped hands. She didn’t know why in the world he would lie about his brother needing her help, but it felt like he was grasping for words. “Tension?”

“Aye, tension. Elsa’s ready to start a family, you see, and Liam -”

“Doesn’t want kids?”

“No, no, it’s not that. He does. It’s just . . . he wants to be sure they’re ready. Financially speaking.”

“That’s wise. Having children isn’t something you do lightly.”

“And Elsa understands that, but she -”

Emma lifted a hand. “If you say anything about her biological clock, I might dump the rest of that soup over your head.”

His eyes widened at that. “Okay, I sense a touchiness -”

She gave him a withering glare. “I just don’t like women being treated like they have a shelf life, that’s all.”

Killian leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed. Uh-oh. “So you’re going to deny basic biology?”

“What basic biology?”

“That there are a certain number of years -”

“Choose your words very carefully, buddy.”

His hands dropped to the table, and she noticed that his hands were now clenched in fists. “All I’m saying is that Elsa’s waited the first five years of their marriage for something she wants deeply, and my brother is being way too practical. As usual.”

“You have to be practical - it’s a lifetime commitment!”

“But no one can ever be one hundred percent prepared!”

This had quickly gotten out of hand, both their voices rising slightly, and Emma wasn’t even sure where the conversation had gone off the rails. She took a deep breath and when she spoke again, she used her professional therapist voice.

“It’s a big decision that you shouldn’t rush into.”

Killian leaned across the table, his eyes flashing. “Or it’s something that scares you to death, scares the hell out of you actually because you never had a good example of what a father should be. So even though you want it more than you ever wanted anything, that fear holds you back. So you wait, then wait some more, until one day you’ve waited too long!”

He rose from the table then, so forcefully that the chair behind him flew backwards and wobbled, almost toppling over. Then Killian turned and left, the screen porch door slamming behind him as he headed down the beach.

Emma just sat there for a moment, processing what the hell just happened, and suddenly understanding dawned. She didn’t have a phD in psychology for nothing.

This had nothing at all to do with Elsa and Liam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian came to a dead stop halfway down the beach when he realized what he was doing. He leaned over his knees, taking big gulps of air. It wasn’t from the exertion of his run - he was in better shape than that - it was the sudden fear washing over him. How could he be this stupid twice? And Emma was just getting over being sick. What if she tried to follow him, got dizzy, and . . . and . . .

He couldn’t finish the thought. Instead, after one more deep breath, he raced back the way he had come. The fear was even worse when he saw how far he’d run. The house seemed so far away . . .

Finally, he slowed down right at the back of the house. In the distance, he saw Emma by the fire pit talking to Anna. Relief flooded through him, and he suddenly felt like he’d run a 10k in less than a minute. Once again, he was leaning over, bracing his hands on his knees. Emma turned towards him, but he couldn’t tell from here if she was angry or not. Then she turned back to Anna, gesturing in his direction. Anna nodded, then turned around and went back into the house.

Killian straightened as Emma drew closer. Her arms were crossed, holding a sweater around her frame, and the ocean breeze tugged at her hair. Even when she got close, her expression was unreadable.

“I’m sorry.”

Seemed as good a place as any to start.

She tilted her head at him. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t know.”

Killian blinked, then looked back over Emma’s shoulder at his brother’s house. He sighed, “Anna told you?”

Emma nodded, then her expression changed, and her eyes widened. “Wait - did you race back here because you were worried about me?”

Killian ran a hand wearily over his face. “It was just so eerily the same. A fight, me running off -”

Emma stopped his words with a gentle hand to his arm. “Her death wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just a senseless accident.”

“You don’t understand, Emma. We fought about . . . “ he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “We were renovating our house, on the other side of Storybrooke. We added on a new master suite, giving us three bedrooms instead of two, and then Milah suddenly starts referring to one of them as a nursery.” He turned to look out at the water, his hand raking through his hair. Emma said nothing.

“I always brushed her off with a joke or something. Finally, we talked about it, and I told her I wasn’t sure we were in a good place financially. The truth was, I was scared.”

“Of what?”

He turned to look into her green eyes. “Of failing. As a father. My dad left us when we were kids, you see, and . . . well, how was I supposed to know what a good father looked like?”

Emma just nodded. “I understand that fear.” She settled down in the sand and motioned for him to join her. He did, knowing she might still be weak from being sick.

Killian shook his head and sighed before continuing. “But it meant so much to her. Her first husband never wanted kids either, was really volatile about the issue, and it got to be a touchy subject between us.”

Emma said nothing, just looked at him with an expression that made him feel it was safe to go on. No wonder she was so good at her job.

“One day, we were in the middle of working on the house, and she confronted me about it, wouldn’t let me deflect. We ended up getting into a huge fight, and I took off in anger. Just like I did tonight.” He struggled to go on, lowering his head so she couldn’t see the tears starting to form.

“You don’t need to explain the rest if you don’t want to. Anna told me.”

“If I had been there, she might not have fallen off that ladder.”

“You don’t know that.”

“She might have lived.”

“Killian,” she said in a soft voice, “Anna told me what the coroner said. She broke her neck. Even if you had been there, you wouldn’t have been able to save her.”

He shook his head, clenching his jaw. “But she might not even have been on that ladder if I hadn’t taken off. She might have been more careful. She was probably so distracted . . . “

“Killian look at me,” Emma knelt down in front of him in the sand and took his face in her hands. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was only gone for ten minutes. No one expects their life to change that much in ten minutes.”

Emma gave him an encouraging smile. She had also started to stroke his face, and he wondered if she even realized she was doing it.

“Exactly. Ten minutes. How could you have possibly known what would happen? You left for a few minutes to calm down. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I . . . I didn’t . . . it wasn’t my fault.”

Emma nodded. Liam had told him the same thing a thousand times. So had Elsa. And David. Yet for some reason, here on the beach with Emma’s soothing voice and gentle hands, the truth of it finally washed over him like the waves crashing against the shore. Something broke inside of him, and his head fell forward onto Emma’s shoulder. She wrapped one arm around him while she stroked his hair with her other hand. He waited for tears to come, for sobs to shake his body, but instead he felt lighter somehow. He supposed he’d shed an ocean of tears for Milah over the years, and nothing but a shaky sigh was left.

“She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself,” Emma told him.

He pulled back and took Emma’s hands in his. “You’re right. She wouldn’t.” He stared down at Emma’s hands for a minute, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. The sound of the ocean surrounded them, and he slowly breathed in the salty smell of it, then exhaled.

“Better?” Emma asked.

He nodded, feeling slightly sheepish all of a sudden. He rose to his feet and offered Emma a hand, which she took. Once she was up, he turned towards the house, but she didn’t relinquish his hand.

“You know,” he told her, “I never scheduled a session.”

She laughed. “Lucky for you I had an opening.”

“How much do I owe you?” he teased, bumping her hip.

“This one’s on the house, Jones.”

Despite their fight and the intense conversation on the beach, they spent the rest of the evening the way they normally did - on the couch with Netflix. Around eleven, Emma stretched and yawned.

“You’ve got me falling into the sleeping habits of an old man,” she told him, poking his leg with her toe.

“Hey, I may have a few years on you, but I’ve retained my youthful glow.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes as she rose from the couch, wrapping an afghan around her. “What about you?”

A yawn cracked his own jaw as he rubbed at his tired eyes. “I think I’m ready to turn this couch into my bed for the night.”

Emma chewed on her lower lip as she regarded him carefully. “Why don’t we just share the bed?”

He arched a brow at her. “Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, why not? I mean, we’re both adults.”

Killian rubbed at his jaw as he thought it over. He wouldn’t lie, he was sick of the couch. And as long she was comfortable with it . . .

“Come on,” Emma said, giving him a playful kick, “don’t make a big deal out of it. You know you miss sleeping in a real bed.”

“Well, if you’re sure -”

“One hundred percent.”

“Okay then.” He tossed aside the remote, got up, and followed Emma down the hall. She had already changed into her pajamas, so she brushed her teeth while Killian changed in the bedroom. He went ahead and slipped under the sheets and flipped off the light before Emma came in. Why was his heart pounding like a fifteen year old?

He heard Emma shut off the faucet and flip off the bathroom light. “Whoah, it’s dark!” Emma cried as she stepped into the room. “Why are you hiding? Do you sleep in the nude?”

“No,” Killian protested, “well, not totally. I mean, I’m wearing boxers.” Shut up, he reprimanded himself, you sound like a nervous idiot.

Emma swore under her breath as she tripped over something on her way to the bed. Knowing her, it was a pair of shoes. He felt the bed dip as she got in and wrapped herself up in the covers. He tried to make her out in the dark, but all he could see was her hair.

“Good night,” Emma whispered.

“Good night,” he whispered back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian was awakened the next morning because something was tickling his nose. It was Emma’s hair - spread all over her pillow and his. He brushed it out of his face as he rolled over. Emma was curled up on her side, her back to him. He took the opportunity to admire her creamy shoulders on display. One strap of her tank top had slipped, and the sight had him getting hard. He was just about to slip out of bed before she noticed how - er - excited he was to see her, when she suddenly rolled over to face him.

“Hey,” she said groggily.

“Hey,” he answered, his voice strained. He tried to inch farther away from her without making it obvious.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

He blinked. “Uh, why would I be embarrassed? Like you said last night, we’re adults.”

“Exactly,” Emma replied through a yawn. She arched her back and stretched both arms over her head, which definitely didn’t help his erection. “And I’m also an adult who counsels couples and has extensive knowledge of sexual physiology and psychology.”

“Are you bragging, Swan?”

“No. I’m just trying to explain why I understand your situation. After all, it’s extremely normal for a healthy man to wake up with an erection.”

She smirked at him as he coughed. He wished he had control over the red creeping up his cheeks. He quickly recovered, however, and winked at her.

“That confident that I’m happy to see you?”

She shrugged, that damn strap still teasing him. “Guess it’s good I’m not a cuddler, or there would be no doubt.”

“Oh trust me, love,” he told her, dropping his voice an octave, “when I jab you with my sword, you’ll feel it.”

Now she was the one blinking rapidly as a blush stained her cheeks. He laughed as he flung the sheets aside.

“Now look away, darling, unless you want an eyeful. My boxers have never been able to contain my prodigious manhood.”

She didn’t respond at first, and he chuckled again. But when he reached the door of the bathroom, his pillow hit him in the back of the head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharing a bed was changing Emma’s sleeping habits. She was getting up earlier for two reasons: one, she had lied to Killian. She apparently was a cuddler. Every morning her eyes flew open before the sun was up when her body sensed something warm, solid, and hairy beneath her cheek. She always extricated herself from his embrace before he woke up. Second, Killian had convinced her to ditch her treadmill and join him on his jogs. She had to admit, she looked forward to her morning workout more with the combination of the gorgeous setting, Smee’s encouragement, and Killian’s company.

He wasn’t chatty on the morning runs, for which she was grateful. She preferred getting in the zone when she exercised. However, they were talking over breakfast and coffee each day. Now that she was up earlier, she had time for more than a bagel as she dashed out the door. She could honestly say that they were friends now, and she enjoyed his company. She had hopes that things wouldn’t be weird after all this was over, and they could still hang out. Especially since they worked in the same building.

Emma was far more aware of the sounds coming from below her than she used to be (heavy metal music aside). She now knew the difference between the sound of the table saw versus the sander, for example, though both were faint by the time they reached her ears. Her clients probably didn’t even notice.

She also knew when he was meeting with a client. The sounds in his workshop ceased and the pleasant timbre of his voice drifted up through the vents. Not enough for her to eavesdrop, but enough to bring a smile to her face. He was talented at what he did, and she wanted him to succeed.

Right now, she could hear the buzz of his table saw as she listened to her current client talk about finally setting boundaries without apologies with the man she had just started dating. Emma was encouraged by her progress, and honestly proud of the young woman. When she first started seeing Emma, she was broken and filled with social anxiety after going through a very public breakup. It had taken a year for the woman to even accept a date from a man who had already proven himself as a good friend. Now, here she was speaking up for herself without apology.

“You know, Jasmine,” Emma told her, “I think you are at a very healthy place. How about we try meeting every six weeks instead of monthly?”

“Really?” the woman asked, beaming. “I think that would work. Does that mean I don’t need the citalopram anymore?”

“No, I think you should still take it. Talk it over with your doctor, but it’s a really safe medication, and ten milligrams a day is a very small dose. Besides, remember what I always say?”

“Medication is just another of my tools to help me cope and nothing to be ashamed of.”

Emma grinned. “Exactly.”

They both rose, and Emma showed Jasmine to the door at the top of the stairs. Over the brunette's shoulder, she saw Killian welcome in a smiling redhead. The woman flipped her hair over one shoulder as she laughed, then she laid a hand on Killian’s bicep. Killian smiled back, then - Emma’s breath caught - he reached up and scratched behind his ear! Emma’s lips pressed together in a thin line. That was his tell when he was nervous - usually sexually nervous. Emma barely heard Jasmine’s goodbye as her head spun. She leaned over to try and see the pair, but Killian led the redhead further into his shop and out of sight.

Emma went back into her office and started pacing in the small waiting area. Ariel! That was the woman’s name. Killian had made an arbor for her wedding to Eric, similar to the one he had made for her. Well, this Eric might want to know that his wife was flirting with other people’s husbands.

As soon as the thought entered her brain, Emma tried to put on her therapist hat and remind her subconscious that the woman’s red hair had triggered memories of Walsh’s infidelity with Zelena.

Her subconscious was hearing none of it.

Emma stilled her movements and cocked her head as she tried to make out the low voices from the first floor. Were they laughing again? The woman sure was smiling a hell of a lot.

Maybe she always smiles a lot. Therapist Emma tried to say.

Her subconscious ignored Therapist Emma.

Emma marched over to the floor vent near the door so she could hear better. All she could make out was Killian’s accent and Ariel’s more bubbly voice, but not what they were saying. She rolled her eyes and let out a huff of breath before getting down on her hands and knees. Wait, was that more laughter? She leaned closer, turning her ear to the vent and concentrating. She thought she heard Ariel say Killian’s name. In her mind’s eye, she saw her smiling brightly at him, flicking that unfairly beautiful shade of red hair over one shoulder, and gushing, “Oh Killian, you are just so funny.”

Emma snapped back to reality and realized that it had gone quiet. Why were they quiet all of a sudden? What were they doing? Emma’s ear was practically pressed to the vent at this point, and -

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Emma let out a strangled yelp as she jumped up from the floor. Killian was standing there in her doorway, looking at her with confusion etched on his brow and barely contained humor teasing the corners of his lips. She blinked and suddenly wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. She had been acting like a complete fool!

“Umm . . . I was . . . looking for something. What are you doing up here?”

He arched a brow at her and struggled to keep a smile at bay. “It’s lunch time. We were going to go over to Granny’s - remember? What did you lose?”

“Lose?”

“You said you lost something,” he said, gesturing to where she’d been on all fours like a dog.

“My earring,” she lied quickly, “I thought maybe it rolled into the vent.”

“Oh,” he said, “well let me help you -”

“No that’s okay!” she told him hurriedly. “I found it, see?” She held up an empty hand with the fingertips pinched together as if she were holding something, then she pretended to fiddle with her earring. Thank God she wore studs!

Killian arched a brow at her, then sauntered close. So close, his chest almost brushed hers. She had to tilt her head to look up at him. He leaned down, his lips almost brushing her ear.

“You mean this earring, love?” he purred. He reached up and caressed the ruby stud with his calloused fingers. “The one you were already wearing when you first stood up?”

He pulled back just enough so he could look her in the eye, and the sinful smile upon his face should have made her furious.

But it didn’t. Damn him, it almost made her melt into a puddle of goo on the floor.

HIs eyes scanned her face, and for one thrilling moment she thought he would kiss her. Kiss her with absolutely no one watching. But then he pulled back and walked backwards towards the door.

“You coming, love? Grilled cheese at Granny’s?”

“Uh . . . yeah,” she muttered.

Emma wanted a way to wipe that shit eating grin off his face, but she couldn’t figure out how to do it.

“Oh and Emma,” Killian said before she could head down the stairs, “Ariel was smiling and laughing because she and Eric need me to make them a cradle. For their new baby.”

His satisfied smile as he sauntered past her down the stairs made her want to kick him in the ass as hard as she could. Mostly. But another part of her was too busy being relieved about Ariel’s order.

#cs ff #cs modern au #cs marriage of convenience #slow burn #humor #and some angst #for spartanguard

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ilguna · 4 years ago

Text

Metanoia - Chapter One (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 4.9k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

This might be it. This might just be the first time you’re feeling emotion that doesn’t belong to yourself. And all you can say about it is: it’s completely awful. It’s nothing close to what your mother had told you about. Right now, it feels like you’re a prisoner in your own body, and you’re not being allowed to feel for yourself.

Whoever your soulmate is, they’re obviously empathetic to the point that it’s crippling. Imagine being this grief-ridden on reaping day. You can’t fathom the idea that any regular person would feel this bad for people. So there’s really a couple of things that might be going on.

One, your soulmate is a friend of a victor, and they’re worried that their favorite person is going to get pulled to go back inside. Two, they’re family of a victor and it’s the same thing. Three, it’s an empathetic person--which you can’t stand. Or four, it’s a victor themself.

No matter the way it goes, their emotion is cancelling out yours. You don’t want to be full of sorrow, you know for a fact that somewhere deep in your body, you’re absolutely bubbling with excitement. You’ve been looking forward to today ever since the games were announced in the winter.

Today is the day.

And yet, you can’t pull yourself out of bed. You’ve been staring at the white ceiling for at least an hour now, setting yourself back. It’s like all the enthusiasm has been drained from your body, and you’re actually regretting your decision.

A slight shiver runs through your body at that thought. You draw the line there, you’re not going to regret anything.

Pushing yourself up, you slide out of the silk bed sheets before you can change your mind and go back to laziness. You don’t bother fixing the blankets, not really caring for the fact that they’re in disarray. You never make the bed, and you won’t start on it today either. It’s a tactic of stalling, and there’s no reason for you to.

Before the shower, you decide on picking out the dress. Something gold and glittery, which is just about the entire wardrobe. You didn’t actually buy any of these dresses, they were all given as a gift from your stylists or Capitol citizens when you spent your summer after the games, inside of the Capitol.

You pick out a floor-length dress that’s a mix between black and gold. Two set colors that you can match easily. You kick out the heels that are also black and somewhat glittery. They don’t have the actual heel part to them, but they are engineered to look like it, and they’re pretty easy to walk in. They’re always your go-to when it comes to special things like this.

The dress is only a little bit poofy, and it’s on the lower half. Either way, it goes down to the floor, and there should be no chance of anyone seeing your feet to know that you’re reusing another pair of shoes. There’s a v-neck plunge, but it doesn’t show much skin, you still look pretty modest. In the back, it’s open.

It’s definitely a dress you could find yourself wearing during the interviews with Caesar. Or a dress you would have worn after your first tribute had won the hunger games. You’ve only mentored twice, and both of them came out alive. After that, the job was handed onto them since they were the more recent victors.

All your jewelry resides on the white vanity, but you don’t bother picking those out. You toss the dress over the back of the chair, and move the shoes nearby so it won’t be a hunt. After that, you go ahead and get into the bathroom to take your shower.

You scrub your entire body clean, even though you know that you’ll be washed again inside of the Capitol about a dozen times. You do the basics to your hair, and when you get out, you’re putting product after product in so it’s ready when you do finally come around to it.

You pull on your undergarments, skipping your dress as you head downstairs for breakfast. There’s no shame in going downstairs half-naked. There’s no one else here to call you out on it.

You hit the bottom of the stairs, and while you’re navigating through the living room to get to the kitchen, you pause in the open doorway, a little surprised to see who’s sitting on the white loveseat.

Tanith is flipping through one of those books that are on the bookshelf for pure decoration. From here, you recognize the pink cover like you received the book yesterday, when it’s been years. A gift from your then-district representative, the cover reads in nice script writing, ‘how to get used to your new wealth’. Written by some asshole inside of the Capitol.

“Riveting.” Tanith looks up from the book, eyes landing on you. But she freezes, “God--I’m sorry--”

She covers her eyes, and you can’t help to laugh, “Really?”

You walk past her, heading into the kitchen. You dig through the fridge, pulling out some fresh fruits that you’d bought yesterday from the store. On top of that, you pull out a few eggs too, pop bread into the toaster, spray some cooking butter onto the pan so the eggs won’t stick, and work away.

“I should have knocked instead of walking inside.” She says, “That’s my fault.”

You shrug, “I have no shame, not after my time in the Capitol.”

“I expect not.” you can hear the light scraping of the stool against the tile floor, “You really want to go back inside?”

After the games had been announced, all the victors in the district had gathered together to have their own little meeting. Cipher the people who didn’t want to go back in, and make the ones who did, known. The old were automatically ruled out either way, whether they wanted to go inside or not, they’re too delusional. Old age has rotten their brains, some can’t think straight anymore.

There had been a good handful of people that wanted to go back inside. The only problem was that everyone wanted to do it based on capabilities again. To keep you guys on top of the pyramid as usual. You can’t send in someone who would die off immediately. Thus, a competition started.

As time went on, people were slowly weaned out. Based off of strength, fighting capabilities, who still knew the edible plants, the medical knowledge. If you were able to still present well, with the cute dresses, the white smiles, the charming personalities.

It brought it down to only a couple of you. Sorcha, an older woman in her forties who’s fit even after all these years. She’s arrogant--even more than you--and mean. She’s self-driven, disregards most of the people that come across her. She started off as a Capitol favorite, but now they see her as a total bitch.

Daleka, in her thirties and a very skilled fighter. She won her games by being completely ruthless. Her personality is likable, the Capitol complained when she stopped visiting and mentoring all together. Has a wife and a kid she adopted from the foster care place.

You, of course. Only twenty-five, still seen as somewhat fresh off of the arena. Nine years may seem like a long time to others, but not to you. Along that time, other districts have won too. Like Annie from four and Johanna from seven, and your most recently hated, Katniss and Peeta from twelve.

But that doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re one of the top three for the most recent out of the arena. First would be Zavian, next would be Tanith, and then it would be you. Everything is still very fresh in your mind, since you were the one that had mentored both Zavian and Tanith. What you’re saying is, you’re a perfect candidate.

Anyway, the final girl that had wanted to go in was Enobaria. A Capitol favorite, like most of you are. Fierce, confident. She got her teeth filed to be sharp because of her signature win of ripping a tribute’s throat out. Fun to be around, nowhere near bubbly like some people think.

And for the boys, the list was quite large, and you wouldn’t be able to name all of them on one hand. The whole point of this is, there could only be one girl and one boy sent in. Therefore, the competition narrowed it down for everyone, as the challenges progressively got harder.

For boys, Brutus won. Tall, bald, muscular. He’s in his forties, but he looks to be about late thirties instead. He’s cocky, a complete pain in the ass, and he would be difficult to fight. But he’s an ally that you can’t deny wouldn’t be good to have at your side.

And for girls, you won it. You practically blew Sorcha and Daleka out of the water. Enobaria was much more difficult to shake, though. She’d obviously continued studying even after her games. You might have been a softie back in the academy, but you were a quick learner, and all of it stuck like it’d been glued with superglue.

The volunteer is yours to have. And if you chose to back out, there would be no harm in it. That’s why Enobaria is there, she’s the backup in case you were to choose to do something like that. However, you didn’t fight tooth and nail with a bunch of bullies just to quit it. You want that win.

“Yes,” you answer Tanith’s question, “I do. Afraid I won’t win?”

She snorts, “Hardly. I’m afraid that you’ll be a murder machine.”

You look over your shoulder at her, “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” she says, and with that, you serve her the eggs, toast and berries. After that, you slide her the butter for her toast, “Thank you.”

As you go back to cook your own breakfast, you smile down at it, “Obviously you haven’t watched my games.”

“I was fifteen.” she objects, “I watched them. What I mean, is that I’m afraid you’ll become a murdering machine again.”

“That’s what all the victors are, not just me. Look back at anyone’s games from this district and you’ll see that.” you pop a strawberry into your mouth, “And it’s not like there’s much to lose, either.”

“This big old house?” she proposes, “Me?”

Tanith has uncomfortably clung onto you like a parental figure. She came straight from the foster care herself, an orphan. Academy took her when she turned eight, because obviously no one would miss her. She was just as deadly as you were, when she turned seventeen. You hand picked her yourself, even though there were ‘better candidates’ for it.

She’s your first winner, like how Zavian is your second. You were sure to keep him out of the same games with Tanith, knowing that it would screw the whole system. You’re fond of them equally, but unlike Zavian--who was eager to get away from you as fast as possible--Tanith has stuck around.

Take today as one of the many examples.

“I like how the house was your first priority to say.”

“You speak about this place like it’s a home base.” she reasons, “You seem to like it more than me, what can I say?”

You go ahead and plate all of your food, turning off the stove but leaving the pan. If you put it under water so soon, the metal will warp from the temperature change, and ruin it. It won’t sit right ever again.

You stand opposite of Tanith, leaning against the counter as you eat, “I wouldn’t say I like it more than you, that seems like an overstatement.” you decide to change the conversation, bored of this one, “Should I be worried about anyone else coming to visit?”

“Enobaria was.” Tanith says, picking at her egg, “She wanted to come and be the one to harass you about volunteering. I told her that I’d take the blow.”

“Smart girl.” you say, stabbing your fork into your egg, walking as the yolk runs out, and straight to your toast. The berries are long gone, “Well, I guess she’ll find out when I volunteer.”

“What’s the point of it, anyway?” she asks, “I mean, you have everything you could have wanted, right?”

“You and I don’t think the same.” you say, “You remind me of myself, back when I was on my victory tour.”

She gives you a confused look, “Is that compliment?”

“I’m more or less calling you humble.”

“Thanks…”

“And mushy, you’re an overthinker. You like the simple things, you won and now you’re done, right? You’re not bothered by the fact that you’re just another face, another name among this crowd of victors.” you take your time eating between sentences, “Me, on the other hand--who would give up the opportunity to be a living legend?”

She hums, nodding a little bit, not knowing what to say. It’s a rhetorical question, there’s a ton of people that have passed on this. But the idea is way too tempting. Possibly double the cash, and you literally get put into the books for not surviving once, but twice? The Capitol citizens love you now, wait until later.

You finish your breakfast quickly, taking your and Tanith’s plate as you move over to the sink, running water over them. Next, you go ahead and place the pan in there too.

“I’ve got to get ready, are you sticking around?”

“I should report back to Enobaria.” Tanith says, you can hear the chair again, “I could come back later with Emi, if you want.”

“Whatever.” you say, heading towards the staircase, “Don’t worry about me too much, kid. I’m unbreakable so far.”

“So far.” She echos.

There’s no goodbye as you go up. By now, your hair is pretty dry. In the bathroom attached to your bedroom, you go ahead and get ready now. You brush your hair, blow dry only a little bit, and then straighten. When you’re done with that, you curl and hairspray.

By the time you’ve moved onto makeup, Tanith is back with Emi already. Emi is older than the both of you, but she has more experience when it comes to some things. She picks out the jewelry for you, and does some of the harder parts of your makeup. The both of them work together to get you into the dress, and then help with the shoes too.

Standing in front of the floor-length mirror, you double check everything, asking yourself if this is what you want. With a few more turns, you decide that you’re going to get praise for the outfit choice. The Capitol will be impressed with how dressed up you got for it. Others might see it as some joke.

You have about thirty minutes before the reaping, which is when you go to leave the house. It isn’t until you’ve stopped at the door, when you realize that you’re missing some sort of token. You tilt your head from side to side, trying to remember what you wore in your first games.

A necklace, wasn’t it? Given to you by your then-boyfriend. He later broke up with you because of your performance inside of the games, which he wasn’t expecting at all in the slightest. Because of this, you kept the necklace as a reminder, it’s tortuous, and you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it now.

“What are you waiting for?” Emi finally asks.

“I need a token.” you tell her, still staring at the staircase, distracted.

“Earrings, necklace, bracelet…” Emi urges slightly, “Ring?”

“No.” you tell her, “Wait--yes for the necklace.”

Your hand finds it, already dangling around your neck. Another gift, Tanith. Some souvenir she had gotten from the Capitol during her visit after she won. This will please her.

“Never mind, it’s on me.”

You leave the house, closing the door with a slam, since it’s a bit shifty when it comes to closing. After that, you wait at the bottom of the steps with the other two, watching as people come out of their houses, one by one. In no time, you’re all walking towards the stage in one big herd.

“Not everyone can visit you, but I definitely will.” Tanith says, “In the departing room, I mean.”

“Sweet.” you look over all the district people who dressed up nicely, despite the fact that they’re not going to be the ones going in. You catch the attention of a few people because of your out. You wonder if they know deep down that it’s because you’re going to volunteer.

“Zavian even agreed too. It was supposed to be a surprise but I know how you feel about them.”

It’s like showing up uninvited. Like her being inside of your house without any prior warning. You guess that’s somewhat your fault too, since you hadn’t talked to anyone yesterday. You were too amped up about today. It’s funny to you, that you were allowed to feel excited yesterday, but so unmotivated today.

Maybe your soulmate was full of anxiety this morning.

“Wanna know something cool?” you ask Tanith.

“Sure.” She looks over at you, but you’re still staring off at everyone you pass.

“I think I actually do have a soulmate.”

Tanith gasps, covering her mouth. You look over at her, confused by the reaction, until you realize that it was genuine excitement, “Really? That’s good news! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You shrug, “Didn’t see it as important. Haven’t heard anything from them in a long time, so I thought they were as good as dead.”

“It’s good news.” Tanith looks happy for you, “I wish I’d come across mine already.”

She looks down at her wrist, running her finger over the words.

“You’ve got plenty of time.” you tell her.

“Says you. You were so worried about it.” Tanith says, and before you can object, she adds: “Come on, admit it already.”

You give an exasperated sigh, “I suppose.”

She smiles a bit.

Tanith helps you up the staircase to the stage, which almost looks brand new. It isn’t though, it’s just pristine clean. Unlike the other districts, two is highly loved. Which means that the entire district is rich, except for a select few who were born in the poorer part of the district to begin with.

It just means that everything looks nice. The stage is white, it hardly had dirty footprints. You watch as some comes across with a broom to brush off the dirt after everyone has stepped onto the stage.

District Two is practically a second Capitol.

This year, no one sits in chairs. The girls stand on the right, in the back stand the tallest, and the front stand the shortest. You’re fairly tall, you’re able to see over most people’s heads. Most of the girls in the district manage to be short anyway, it was just the genes that you inherited that allowed you to be tall.

You’re given an easy escape route, the same as Enobaria as a backup. If your name is called, no one is allowed to volunteer over you. However, if you don’t volunteer fast enough, then that leaves it up to grabs. There’s a whole list of people that are dying to be able to go back inside.

Two people sit in chairs, waiting for everyone to file in and get comfortable below the stage. The first is the governor, a woman you’re not that fond of. She got on your nerves back when you had won your games. Back then, you were taking a lot of trips to the Capitol to have work done on your body. She was getting irritated about it.

The second person that sits next to the governor, is the district representative. A short man with loud opinions. He’s one of those people that you wouldn’t mind being thrown inside of the arena with. He’d likely be torn apart like the tributes are a pack of wolves.

He thinks of you guys as used tissues. There’s been a couple of times when you’ve gotten in his face because of what he said. Nearly shredded him right then and there in front of a few peacekeepers and tributes. If people think you’re scary normally, then they haven’t seen you angry.

It’s a disappointment that he is the district rep. You wish he would jump off a cliff and die.

Once everyone is in their respective places, the governor gives her speech that she gives every year. It’s the one about the dark days, a required speech. In the group of girls, you whisper the words in harmony. After she wraps it up, the rep moves forward.

His name is Theo, a boring name. Unbearably common and simple. You thought the Capitol people were supposed to be extravagant. This man is a disappointment in more than one way, it turns out.

“Happy hunger games!” His voice is what you’d like to also describe as ‘average’. Not deep, not high pitched. Average, “Let’s start with ladies first, shall we?”

As if it’s a question any of you are allowed to answer. You know someone in this group--mainly Sorcha--is dying to yell back ‘actually no, we shall not’ just to see his reaction. Forget the tributes being seen as monkeys, the Capitol people’s reactions are just as entertaining.

He sticks his white-gloved hand into the bowl, spinning his finger around while he puckers his face. He’s likely thinking, ‘Which one looks the most presentable?’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ you want to yell back, ‘I’m volunteering either way!’

It’s building up unnecessary tension. You scowl, eyes glued to his hand as he finally picks a damn slip of paper. He pulls it out, his suit sleeve nearly clipping the mouth of the bowl, and goes back over to the expensive microphone. He pulls off the black tape, and reads over the name.

“Tanith Nuova!” he smiles widely, looking over towards the girl section.

How funny, your own tribute getting called out. It’s a sign. If you didn’t have your mind made up before, you do now.

“I volunteer!” your voice rings out, no one is surprised.

You slide out of the section of girls, along the way, Tanith holds out her hand, and you slap it for a high-five. A small smirk appears over your face as you gracefully go to where you need to stand. One look at the choir of girls, and you can see that you’re nowhere near out of place with how you’re dressed. Plenty of people look like they’re also ready to head back to the Capitol.

Theo doesn’t look too thrilled, his face puckers again as he heads to the microphone, “(Y/n) Rosecelli for our girl.”

He moves over to the boys now, doing the exact same thing that he did the first time. You glare at him out of annoyance. You manage to catch the eyes of Brutus to see he’s shifting on his feet, clearly fed up with this too.

Theo finally gets to the point of it, “Cobalt Struyk--”

He barely gets out the last name when Brutus’ voice overpowers him, “I volunteer.”

Brutus comes over, standing in front of the boys bowl. Theo, scowling and hinting at the beginning of a temper tantrum, motions to the two of you, not even bothering to introduce Brutus.

You hold your hand out for Brutus, and he gives you a smirk as he takes it. Once you have a hold of each other, you turn towards the cameras, holding up your intertwined fingers, a giant grin on the both of your faces.

Two volunteers, it’s unsurprising to the entire nation. They’re expecting volunteers, but they definitely weren’t anticipating those who would step forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Quarter Quell!” Theo says after he managed to pull himself together. He skips the bit about shaking hands, and the two of you are then escorted off of the stage.

You begin in the direction of the departing room, noticing how the peacekeepers follow you and Brutus tightly. By the time you get to the building, Tanith and Zavian are already there, in your room.

“What’s with them being so stuffy?” you ask once the door shuts behind you.

“I heard a few districts are getting out of hand.” Zavian leans on the arm of the couch, “I guess it’s better safe than sorry.”

Another reason why you don’t like that Katniss girl, look at the mess she’s made of everything. It was fine before she came along, fucked up the process. Should’ve gotten over the fact that both of them couldn’t win. It’s not like Peeta was a use anyway. Like you’ve said before, deadweight on her fragile, little girl shoulders.

“Well, this is goodbye.” Zavian says, “Thanks for mentoring me.”

Tanith elbows him, giving him a glare, “You could at least be a little sympathetic, douchebag.”

He raises his eyebrows, “That’s a new one, what else are you gonna call me?”

For a second, they’re staring at each other. And then, Tanith grabs her arm like it’s going to detach itself. You watch in awe as she holds it out, looking down at the words.

“Oh, this is unbelievable.” Tanith now looks like her arm can detach, “I’ve been paired with a moron.”

Zavian doesn’t look that phased, taking one look at his arm, and then shrugging. Almost like nothing that went on in front of you, actually happened, he looks at you again, “Good luck in there, you’ll need it. Twenty-three people to fend off? May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Tanith isn’t very good at brushing it off, but she knows her time is limited. She comes over, holding her arms out like a child. You hug her, for her own sake and squeeze her tightly.

“Will you actually use the necklace as a token?” she asks.

“Well, I need something.” you say, “It’s better than nothing.”

“I’ll be rooting for you.” She pulls away, “Thank you for being the greatest person, ever.”

“Cheesy, she hates it.” Zavian comments, laughing a little to himself, “Look at the look on her face.”

Tanith pretends not to hear him, “I know she’s not fond of affection but--” she backs away entirely, “--you should know that a lot of the victors do like you. Truly. Sorcha and a few of the other’s won’t say it, but they love you. We all do.”

You give her a smile, “Thanks.”

“I’ll send anything that you need.” she says, “Make plenty of allies. Be ruthless.”

She’s quoting you. Those are the exact words you said to her last, before she was off to the hovercraft. It’s funny how they’ve stuck with her this long. They must echo inside of her mind like an empty chamber.

“I will, I promise.” you take in a deep breath.

The doors open, “Time’s up, time for the train.”

You look over the two people that decided to visit you, and you open your arms one last time. Tanith comes over willingly, and it takes Zavian a moment before he realizes that it’s extended to him too.

“You two are my pride and joys. Two of my biggest achievements, really. I’ll be back soon, and then you guys can praise me all you want.”

“Get off of me.” Zavian laughs, pushing away now.

“Bye.” you tell them firmly, before turning around and heading towards the peacekeepers.

One of them presses their hand to your lower back, guiding you to the car where Theo and Brutus await. Theo goes in first, since he’s royalty. Next is you, and Brutus nearly weighs the entire car down when he steps inside.

Theo begins muttering about something, you’re not entirely sure if you’re supposed to be listening or not. You want to tell him to shut up, but Brutus beats you to it. Theo glares, you can see him mouth the word ‘ungrateful’ and then stares out of the window for the rest of the time.

When the ride is over, you purposely hold onto Brutus, making him wait, “Open the door for us, Theo.”

He looks over like you just insulted his mother, “Huh?”

“I said, open the door for us. This is our spotlight, after all.” you motion, “Go ahead, before the peacekeepers do it first.”

Brutus is smiling, and he pushes Theo towards the door forcefully. Theo doesn’t like this in the slightest, popping open the door, and holding it open for you and Brutus. Brutus lets you go first, and you step out of the car carefully, holding onto your dress.

Out of the car now, Theo leads you up to the train station. Around you guys are a bunch of peacekeepers still, getting you up to the platform, and then taking on an automatic position behind you guys.

You take your time, waving with a smile at the thought of the fact that the next time you’ll be here, you’re going to be a two-timed victor.

–

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