#i hafta go back to work this week which is no fun ( *-* ) sigh… need the money though Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[satorisoup]

UWAHHH good morning friends & happy sunday !!ヾ(>∀<*) i’m wishing all of you the bestest day EVA & please remember to stay hydrated in this hot weather !! MWUUUAH !! <3 🍓

[withoneheadlight]

ok i saw this cap of zoë kravitz in hf and she's got such a dreamy expression, she looks so deeply self-absorbed and infatuated by whatever she's imagining and those lines. and i couldn't stop picturing billy exactly like that for days so,

,

There’s a pretty unusual sound coming off the house when Max comes back home, that summer afternoon.

Full volume. Walls shaking. And she quietly walks to the source of the sound, holding back her breath right in front of Billy's room because, there's this second sound? Stranger and way more unsettling and Max's not sure-sure at first but then Steve Perry’s voice takes off and Billy’s follows it and then he's like, singing along and. Well. Max did know Billy liked Journey but not like, their 'stuff for pussies' but uhm, he does, apparently. Rasps his voice all the way through ‘Faithfully’. Kind of, sighs. Longingly? When it ends? But pfff, ok, big brothers are weird. Definitely weirder after being possessed and then kind of resurrected. Even if it's in a good-weird way but, whatever. So Max's just about to sneak to her room, dutifully rolling her eyes, steps muffled by the first chords of 'Edge of the blade' when―

Click. Click. Billy stops the tape. Click. Takes it out. Tap. Tap. Click. Puts on― Billy puts. On,

Heaven.

Bryan Adams’ Heaven.

And Max―

Being a younger sister is a meticulous kind of full-time, private detective job. You gotta learn how the person you’ve been watching so carefully for years and years works. Hafta develop some sort of―sense about your target. And Billy’s been—un-Billy-like? These past two months. Smiling more. Telling more jokes. Playing ‘You shook me all night long’ in a loop on their drive to school and back, not complaining at all but even joining when’s Max who can’t help but sing along so.

So. She retraces her steps. Knocks. Takes the distracted grunt she gets as a ‘Yeahyeah, c’mon in c’mon in’ and,

Creak. Creak. ‘―baby you’re all that I want’

“Billy?”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Radio close to his knees. Cassettes scattered everywhere. Piles and piles of breakwater surrounding Billy’s old, rusty beacon of sound. He’s reading through the song-list of one of the tapes, a smoke locked on the corner of his mouth, bouncing up and down with every little, absent suck he takes, and he looks. He looks―

Self-absorbed and even. Relaxed. Happy. Like whatever he’s thinking about right now is actually carrying his thoughts away to fucking heaven.

“Ehh”

“Uh-hu?”

‘When you’re lying here in my arms!’

“Billy are you. What―” ‘I'm findin' it hard to believe. We're in heaven’ “What are you doing?”

But there’s this orbit around the sun and then there’s whatever one Billy's been spinning along with the last couple of months so he completely ignores her question. Shakes the tape on his left hand. Picks another one from the pile on his right. Asks her.

“Is Billy Ocean too much? ‘Cause I think it’s too much. But it kind of fits into what I'm trying to say so” he says, shrugs, looking up at Max and waiting for the answer of what she realizes was not really a question. Not at all. So she does her little sister job and just, nods “Right. That’s good. I think it’ll slide just nicely into Bruce Springsteen and―”

“Billy” Max insists, waiting for the charm of the third time to work. It doesn’t. Not really. But keeps Billy's eyes on her long enough to squeeze an “A mixtape?” And, uh. That’s what gets it on. The charm “Are you making a mixtape?”

“Uh?”

And it’s like Max just shook Billy out of a daydream. Ash plopping down from his cigarette as his lips try but can’t purse and Max― she’s good. She’s stellar at this detective thing. Recognizes an opening the moment she sees it, right there in front of her, frozen in the middle of shaking Billy Ocean and Bruce Springsteen in the air right before cocktailing them together. Shaken, not stirred, please. Max’s upgraded to James Bond-level just right now.

“You’re making a mixtape for someone”

“Oh-nonoMaxi―”

“But you didn’t have those tapes before. Not even in your secret stash”

“How do yo―?”

“Holy. ShIT. You’ve been listening to somebody else’s music” This is. Oh, God. This. Is. GOLD. Max gotta take a moment. Blink. Breathe. Process. Her hands move by themselves, palms spread toward Billy in a wait-a-minute kind of gesture except. Max’s gonna need way more than a minute for this “You’ve accepted a music recommendation”

“Maaaaax”

“Gosh, you’ve even listened to the tapes enough to. Make―”

“Max!”

“I just can’t believe it”

And Max was glad. Well. As glad as one can be. Bunch weeks ago. Her mom and Neil out for the day. Coming back home a little earlier than she usually does to hear those ugh. Those other noises. Happy screams. Again. After months and months of Billy being basically alone except for her and the party and Steve. And Max’s so glad, of course she is. But she’s also a little sister. And all this investigation work has a high, rightful purpose.

Make her big brother’s life a living. Hell.

“Oh my god, you must be so gone!” Max brings her hands to her mouth. Takes a deep, deep breath that’s more a poorly restrained giggle. Shoots her index at him “Is it Bon Jovi? What I’m seeing right there? Goddam, Billy are you in lo―”

Bam.

Bam. Bam!

The front door.

What a way to spoil the fun. Max doesn’t have time for this. She’s working.

“BILLY?” comes a voice from the other side “Billy are you in there?”

Steve.

Oh.

What a way to make the fun a hundred times better.

Bam.Bam.Bam!

She’s starting to move to get to the door, sinsonging “Well, I guess Steve’s gonna find out you’re so stupid in love you’re willingly listening to―” when she realizes Billy’s eyes have widened and he’s jerkingly trying to unfreeze, he’s mumbling something in around his already extinguished cigarette in the ways of “Can’t” and “Find out” and “Surprise” and “Fucking help me!” While literally trying to shove the huge mass of tapes under his bed, his tone like hurryhurryhurry!, like he would start gagging and throwing his lungs out at any given minute, so nervous he looks.

So Max doesn’t go for the door. Yet. She basks in the enjoyment.

“Oh, is it a secret romance or something?” She sighs happily, leaning against the doorframe instead. “‘Cause you look pretty worried”

Steve’s banging the door now, voice wavering a little as he asks-shouts “Billy? Billy answer me! Hey, bab―Are you ok?”

“Max, please” Billy begs. Begs. Crawling over to where a Madonna’s Like a virgin is laying with the tape looping slightly out “He really can’t find out”

“What? That you’re in lo-o-oh-oh-OH―”

Billy stops at the tone, right there on his knees. Spits his forgotten cig to the side. And in the instant it seems to take him to make up his mind they both can hear Steve shout “Ok. I know you’re in there!. I’m coming in now!!”

“Fuck! Yeah. I am. Ok?” he looks like he just realized he’s tripped. Blushes. “Making it, I mean”

BAM!

And Ohhhhhhh.

Zero-fucking-zero-fucking-seven.

“Steve,” Max gasps. Because. Hear it makes it like. Easier. To process “You. And Steve”

B A M!

“Yeah, Max, Yeah. And this is a fucking surprise and he’s gonna―”

‘I've been waitin' for so long. For somethin' to arrive. For love to come along’

Ok. Oh. Okok.

“Door!” Max hastens him.

“What?”

“You. Door. Run!” She commands, and Billy― sometimes Max can’t honestly understand how he's got the grades he's got, because Billy blinks, looks clueless “C’mon slow ass. Hurry! I’ll hide all this shit”

And Billy finally gets it. Nods. Slow. Then fast. Stumbles up. Literally runs, to get to the door.

Max still gets to hear his labored “Fuck, pretty boy. “That was really hardcore of you. That's how bad you wanted to see me?” And Steve's own breathless “Really?” Before pushing Billy's room door close with her back, and kneeling on the floor to check for stray, incriminating cassettes.

Pretty boy. Maybe Max isn't as clever as she thought she is. Or hasn’t been doing her job right, clearly.

It's when she’s making ‘It’s a kind of magic’ disappear into the rest of the pile that she lays eyes on it. The case. The J-card written almost all the way down to the B-side already. A mixture of songs Billy's heard so many times there are parts where his tapes screech, and others she'd bet her life he wouldn’t have deigned to listen to. Not ever. Definitely not because―no, for, somebody. Bowie and Cher and Cindy Lauper and Bob Seger right next to Metallica and Guns n' Roses and Meatloaf and― there. There. Almost hidden in the back of the spine. A note. A tiny, thin-lettered thing Max really, really shouldn't be reading but―

‘Thanks for driving me back.

Love. Billy’

But. That's what little sisters do too, she guesses. Intrude. Annoy. Snoop. Feel this sudden rush of relief. Of happiness. When Billy laughs softly, on the other side of the door. When Steve laughs back. Maybe a tear. Or two. But just maybe. She’s really good at this little sister thing, after all.

Hopes for stellar.

,

or: that post s3 where steve lets a camaro-less billy drive him around in his own car "really? again, hargrove?" almost every single day, for months, after he comes back, because "you’re gonna perpetually stick yourself to my ass at least let me do the one thing that frikin’ calms me down" which results in steve resigning himself to deejaying in the shotgun even if "jesus, what's that shit, harrington?" "my car, my rules, sweetheart" which results in billy developing a ‘songs steve harrington is in love with’ mental playlist, realizing he’s probably a little bit in love with the way he loves them and, possibly, a little much love with steve and then stealing steve's tapes one day and,

making a mixtape about it.

(the first of a whole lot, of love letters)

[livesincerely]

always yours, always mine

Also on Ao3. Rated E.

Disclaimer, this is another A/B/O fic, which I know isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so feel free to skip over this one if that’s not something you’re into <3

00000

“Okay,” Davey says after the third time one of the boys flinches away from him: Albert, this time, who lets out a panicked yelp and all but tucks and rolls, head over ass, in his attempt to keep Davey from touching him. Given that Davey had only gone to clap a friendly hand on his shoulder while they line up to get their papes, this seems like a drastic overreaction. “What aren’t you all telling me.”

They actually have the gall to look surprised—as though they’ve been anything even approaching subtle in the not-quite fifteen minutes that have passed since Davey arrived in the square—and their guilty, hang-dog expressions might’ve been comical if he wasn’t so annoyed.

“Well?” Davey says, arching an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over each of them in turn. “What is it?”

Race snatches Albert’s cap off his head and thwaps him with it. “Nice goin’ Albie, you done gave it away!”

“What was I s’pposed’ta do?” Albert says, disgruntled, rubbing his forehead. “Jus’ stand there?”

“No, but you were s’pposed’ta handle it discrete like, dumbass—”

“Oh, sure, ‘cause it’s just that easy—”

“None of you would know discrete if it socked you in the jaw,” Davey cuts in, his hands making their way to his hips as he stares down at them. “Now, what’s going on?”

There’s a long silence as the boys all glance at each other, shifting guiltily, but none of them willing to be the first to break.

Finally, Racetrack sighs. “This was a stupid idea anyway,” he mutters. He rolls his shoulders back and looks Davey straight on, opens his mouth to speak—

Henry elbows him in the side, hissing, “Race! Don’t tell him!”

“Albert already ruined it, we might as well come clean—”

“I didn’t ruin it!” Albert cries.

“You kinda did,” Finch says with a shrug. “You were really obvious, Al.”

"What was I s’pposed to do!”

“I say we just tell him,” Buttons chimes in over Albert’s protests. “Davey’s gonna figure it out eventually—”

“—and he’s gonna be more upset the longer we keep it from him.” Specs adds. Buttons points at him as if to say, yeah, see?

“You just don’t want Davey to be mad at’cha,” Romeo says, accusatory. 

“Do you want Davey to be mad at’cha?”

“....No.”

“I’m gonna tell him,” Race announces to the group at large.

Multiple voices interject all at once, shouts of disagreement and words of encouragement all jumbled together.

“Race, you can’t,”  Crutchie says with a shake of his head, his quieter tones just barely heard beneath the others’ bickering. “Yesterday was bad enough and you heard what Jack said! He doesn’t want to say anything—“

“Yeah, well maybe if Jack wasn’t such a moron, it wouldn’t’ve gotten so bad in the first place—”

“So, this is about Jack, then?” Davey asks, loudly, and the silence that falls is so sudden and absolute that it almost seems to echo.

The boys all look at each other, apprehensive. Then Racetrack blurts, “Jack’s in rut!”

“Jack’s… what?”  Davey says, startled, because out of all the possibilities he’d suspected, this wasn’t anywhere on the list. “I thought he was sick?”

“He didn’t want us to tell you,” Crutchie admits, apologetic. “He didn’t want’cha to know.”

“Jack’s in rut and he wasn’t going to tell me?” Davey says, confused and a little hurt. “But… why?”

“Because he’s an idiot?” Race offers, rolling his eyes. “He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with any typa explanation but he’s probably freaking out about some stupid alpha thing—”

“Hey,” Mush protests weakly. Sniper just shrugs as if to say fair enough. 

“—and he’s been all keyed up since Tuesday, stinking like frenzy and frustration—and not the fun kind,” Racer continues, wrinkling his nose at the memory. “Plus, he can smell you on all’a us when we get back to the Lodging House every evening; he nearly tore Buttons’ arm outta its socket yesterday when he caught your scent on his sleeve, just from wantin’ it so bad.” 

“He didn’t hurt me,” Buttons assures him when Davey looks his way, alarmed. “Nothing like that—you know Jack would never. But he’s driving himself crazy stayin’ away from ya, and havin’ your scent around without you there with it is only makin’ things harder on him.”

“But, why doesn’t he just…” Davey asks, trying to think of a delicate way to say fuck it out, even as something in his chest bares its teeth and snarls at the thought of Jack even considering a rut partner. 

“You’re kiddin’, right?” Race says flatly, thoroughly unimpressed. “Please tell me you’re kiddin’, because I can only deal with one of you bein’ stupid at a time and Jack’s already called dibs on this week.”

“So, what, he’s trying to just wait it out when he knows that I would—“ 

Davey stops himself, flushing. It’s no secret, how he and Jack have been circling each other—teetering on the brink of becoming  more,  just waiting for something to finally give—but he’s reluctant to talk about it too openly, the possibility of him and Jack still feeling oh so fragile where it’s tucked away in the deepest corner of his heart.

Because he’d thought that they were on the same page, thought that there was an unspoken understanding between them that one day, eventually… But if Jack didn’t want him to know about his rut, hadn’t asked Davey to keep him company through his cycle… Davey chews at his lower lip, stomach twisting up in knots.

“Didn’t I just tell you not to be stupid?” Racetrack asks—frowning, but with no real heat to his words—and Davey realizes that his scent has taken on a sour, anxious note as his thoughts spiralled. “You can’t possibly think that he’d want anyone but you riding this out with him.”

“Except, he doesn’t want me there,” Davey points out. “You just said that he didn’t want me to know—”

“Yeah, but not ‘cause he don’t want you,” Racetrack assures him, as though this is plainly obvious. “‘Cause he really, definitely does: he’s puttin’ up with the rest of us ‘cause he loves us and ‘cause he don’t gotta choice since we all live together, but he wants  you.  I think he wants you so bad that it scares him.”

Davey tilts his head, running his tongue over his teeth as he considers Race’s words. But it’s not even a choice that needs contemplating, really, not when it’s Jack.

“I’ll go over and check on him,” Davey decides, a little voice in his head whispering yeshelpprotectfixsoothe. “See if I can convince him to let me help him.”

The boys all sag as one—it’s clear that they hadn’t wanted to go directly against Jack’s orders but are relieved that Davey’s going to step in.

“Thank fuck,” Elmer mutters. “I can’t take anymore of his goddamn pacing.”

“Felt like I was havin’ sympathy pains, watching him prowl around,” Mush agrees, rubbing a hand over his chest like he can feel an ache there. “Don’t know how he’s managed to hold out so long—I can’t imagine tryin’ to get through a cycle without Blink now that we’re together—”

“I’ll handle it,” Davey says, determined, the feeling in his chest crystalizing into something solid and certain and unshakable. 

“We’ll let your folks know where you are,” Crutchie tells him, clapping Davey on the shoulder. “Just go an’ take care of him—god knows he ain’t gonna take care of himself.”

“And don’t let him run you off,” Race advises. “You know how he gets.”

“I’ll handle it,” Davey repeats firmly.

00000

Davey smells Jack before he sees him: the air is heavy with his cedar and summertime scent, undercut with the smoky sweetness of his rut, so potent that Davey almost goes dizzy with it.

“Jack?” he calls out, announcing himself out of politeness rather than any real need—he’s positive that Jack smelt him the moment he arrived. “Jackie?”

The hair on the back of Davey’s neck stands on end, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, and Davey turns just as Jack steps out of a side hallway, his face shadowed with tension.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Jack rumbles, watching Davey with dark, dark eyes. He’s only wearing a pair of thin sleep pants, his skin dewy with a sheen of sweat, and even from where he stands, Davey can feel the heat rolling off of him in waves.

“Oh?” Davey says, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’m pretty sure this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“Which one of ‘em squealed?” Jack asks with a growl of frustration, raking a hand through his hair. “No, don’t tell me, it was Racer, wasn’t it?”

“Why didn’t you tell me your rut was coming up?” Davey asks, getting right to the point. 

“I didn’t wanna put’cha in that position,” Jack says evasively, gaze falling to the floor.

“And what position would that be?” Davey questions, crossing his arms over his chest.

It takes Jack several seconds to answer. “Didn’t want’cha to feel… obligated or nothin’. Like you hafta be here, like you hafta help me with this, jus’ ‘cause we’re...”

“I don’t understand,” Davey says, watching him carefully, a spark of realization starting to dawn. “How is this any different than you helping me through my heat last month?”

Jack’s spine stiffens, tension thrumming through him like a live wire, but he lets it go just as quickly as it arrived. 

“Come on, Davey,” Jack says, voice heavy, his mouth pressed in a thin, unhappy line across his face. “You know what I mean. You know why it’s different.”

“Sweet, stubborn, overprotective alpha,” Davey murmurs with a sad sigh, shaking his head. “Jackie, you’re not going to lose control and go wild just because you’re in rut, it doesn’t actually work like that—”

“Are you sure?” Jack says darkly. “Are you absolutely positive? ‘Cause I’m feelin’ pretty fuckin’ outta control, here, Dave. Feels like I might bust outta my skin any second, my instincts are goin’ goddamn nuts, I can barely sleep, can barely keep my fuckin’ head on straight, and there’s this hollow, empty spot between my lungs that aches every time I breathe, and I can’t— I can’t—”

“Jack,” Davey says, low and soothing. “You have to stop fighting your instincts. I know you think you’re protecting me by holding yourself back, but I promise that there’s nothing to worry about. Let me help you, darling. Please?”

Jack wavers—not like he’s convinced, not like he’s found any sort of faith in himself, but like he no longer has the strength to keep arguing—and that more than anything has the alarm bells going off in the back of Davey’s mind.

“Jack,” Davey beckons, soft but firm. “Jackie, love, come here.”

Jack takes a stumbling, hesitant step forward. Davey meets him halfway and draws him into a tight embrace, one arm wrapped securely around Jack’s middle, the other guiding Jack’s head to rest against the curve of his throat. 

Jack’s hands settle cautiously against the small of his back, his nose tucked right against Davey’s scent gland. He takes in a single, shaky breath, then crumples like a puppet that’s had its strings cut, that salty, bitter note of distressed alpha finally fading from his scent.

“Dave,” Jack whines, snuffling desperately at his neck. “Davey.”

“I know, Jackie,” Davey murmurs, hugging him even tighter. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

They stand like that for several minutes, just holding each other—Davey pressing gentle kisses to the top of Jack’s head while Jack clings to him, relaxing more and more with every inhale. 

“Can you look at me for a second, love?” Davey asks, craning back as much as he can without letting go. Jack grumbles but obediently tilts his head back—now that they’re closer, Davey can see that his eyes are glassy with fever, his skin flushed beneath his tan. “When’s the last time you ate something? Or had anything to drink?”

“I dunno,” Jack says, shrugging. “A while, I guess. H’ven’t been keepin’ track.”

“Let’s get some food and water into you, okay?” Davey says. “You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”

Davey leads Jack along the hallway and down a set of stairs into the basement, following the traces of Jack’s scent in the air to find wherever he’s been hunkered down for his rut. 

He quickly discovers what must be the Lodging House’s cycle room. It’s cold, cramped, and uncomfortable, not a hint of carpet or wood or  anything  to cover the wall-to-ceiling concrete that encloses the space, and Davey’s heart aches at the thought of Jack waiting out his cycle here, alone, for these last couple days.

He takes stock of the room: there's a wooden bed frame with a lumpy mattress pushed up against one of the walls, covered in a plastic mattress protector and made up with a cheap set of sheets that are stale with sweat, and a single threadbare blanket to go with it—no pillows. There’s a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter sitting on a table in the corner, a mostly full pitcher of water and a glass next to it, and there’s a stack of towels and linens tucked underneath the table with a wash basin.

“Think you can eat something?” Davey asks.

Jack shrugs again but doesn’t answer. Davey decides to interpret this as a  yes. 

“Sit down for me, darling,” he says, making quick work of fixing Jack a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of water. 

Jack hovers close for a second, then finds a spot right on the floor, leaning with his back against the far wall. 

“Go ahead and eat this for me,” Davey instructs, handing over the food. Jack accepts it from him by route, but makes no move to actually take a bite. “Jackie, please. You need to eat something.”

“‘M not hungry,” he mutters.

“I know you aren’t, but that’s just the rut talking,” Davey says, running a hand gently along his arm. “You’ll feel differently once you’ve got some food in your stomach.”

Though he’s clearly not thrilled about it, Jack manages to choke down half of his sandwich and two glasses of water. Once that’s taken care of, Davey starts stripping the dirty sheets off the bed, piling them into the corner to be washed later, then remakes it with a fresh set.

“Do you want to try laying down for a while?” Davey asks as he finishes, smoothing away a wrinkle near one of the mattress corners. “You said you haven’t been sleeping well—”

“I think you need to leave,” Jack interrupts, the words coming out in a low, gravelly rasp. 

Davey goes very, very still, a sudden flare of heat prickling low in his stomach. 

He slowly turns around. Jack rises to his feet with all the grace and power of a jungle cat, his eyes shaded dark with hunger and his scent burning like a wildfire, staring at Davey like he might devour him whole, the air between them growing heated as the next wave of his rut kicks in. 

Davey barely resists a whimper, his own scent spiking sugar-sweet in response as desire pulses through him. He wants to rub himself all along Jack’s front, until that smoky-spicy-cedar scent is imprinted into his skin. Wants to lick the taste of it right out of Jack’s mouth.

“David,” Jack growls. His eyes are scorching. “You gotta go, sweetheart. You gotta leave right now.”

Davey swallows around a suddenly dry throat, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, but his voice is remarkably steady when he says, “What if I don’t want to leave?”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to stiffen. “Davey,” he says sharply. “I know you’re tryin’ to help, but trust me, this ain’t like your heats. You don’t wanna be here for this.”

“You haven’t actually asked me if I want to be here for this,” Davey points out, taking a single step forward. Jack’s hands ball into fists at his sides. “You’ve just assumed that I don’t.”

“Because you don’t understand how—” Jack’s jaw snaps shut as he cuts himself off, expression tight.

“Answer me this then,” Davey says when Jack doesn’t continue, stepping closer and closer until they’re standing toe to toe, chest to chest. Jack’s nostrils flare, the muscles in his arms tensing and flexing, and that mouth watering scent spikes even stronger. “Do you want me, Jackie?”

“Of course I want’cha,” Jack groans, and one of those big, hot hands finally curls around Davey’s waist—not pulling him any closer, really, but like Jack just can’t help himself. “What kinda question is that? This ain’t about not wantin’ ya.”

“Then why is it so hard for you to believe that I want you too?” Davey asks. “That I want you like this? That I want everything you’re willing to give me?”

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” Jack insists, stubborn. Davey would admire his dedication if it wasn’t so exasperating. “I’m— I can’t control myself as well when I’m in rut, I get rough, possessive—”

Davey rolls his eyes. 

“You’re my alpha, Jackie,” he says dryly. “Possessive kind of comes with the territory.”

Jack’s eyes go wide. Two seconds later, Davey realizes what he’s said: this is the first time either of them have openly acknowledged what they are to each other, and voicing it aloud, saying it so plainly… something in Davey’s chest thrums with energy, with  connection.

“You... “ Jack’s throat works for a moment. “You think of yourself as mine?”

“Jackie, I’ve always been yours,” Davey says, cupping his hands around Jack’s face, so true and so tender that he aches with it. “And, I think you’ve always been mine.”

Jack pulls one of Davey’s hands away from his face and curls his own around it, pressing a kiss to Davey’s knuckles, then to his palm, and then to the inside of his wrist, his gaze growing more heated with each one. 

“Mine,” Jack growls, a hint of teeth scraping against Davey’s pulse as he pulls away. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Davey breathes. “All yours.”

Jack’s eyes flash red, then he’s drawing Davey in for a hard, demanding kiss, pressing a thigh between the hot space between Davey’s legs. Davey gasps at the first brush of Jack’s lips against his neck, the slide of Jack’s hands shifting down to palm at his ass, his fingers digging into the swell of Jack’s biceps for purchase. 

“Take these off,” Jack growls, yanking Davey’s shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants. “Take them off before I tear them off you.”

Davey fumbles for the buttons on his shirt, liquid heat pooling low in his stomach. Jack’s hands trail greedily at every bit of his skin as he uncovers it, thoroughly distracting and too good to ignore, and after several minutes of scrabbling, interspersed with long, frenzied kisses, they eventually manage to get their clothes off. 

“Bed, cielito,” Jack says. “We need to— Bed.”

Davey hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t move, his face buried against Jack’s shoulder, biting at the skin there until it bruises.

“Dave,” Jack tries again.

“I’m busy,” Davey mumbles, mouthing at the sharp line of Jack’s collarbones.

“And I’m about two seconds away from pushing you down and fucking you right through the floor,” Jack says, voice laden with promise. “So get on the goddamn bed.”

“I really don’t see what the issue is,” Davey teases, still not moving an inch. “The floor is closer, isn’t it?”

Jack snarls, curling a hand around Davey’s nape and pulling him back up into another frenzied kiss.

“Mouthy— little— smartass—“ he pants, his teeth dragging along the tendon in Davey’s throat. “I’m gonna eat you out ‘til you cry.”

He wraps his hands under Davey’s thighs and hoists him up and back. Davey lands on the mattress with a soft bounce, barely given any time to situate himself before Jack is on top of him, pinning him down with rough hands and spreading him wide before following through with his threat, tongue lapping at Davey’s entrance in broad, greedy strokes.

“Ah,”  Davey gasps, fingers tight in Jack’s hair, scrabbling for some kind of anchor as Jack licks him open.

Jack lets out a low rumble of approval that vibrates right against where he’s most sensitive, his body growing even wetter, even slicker at the sound and feel of it. Jack swirls his tongue around his opening, making Davey’s toes curl against Jack’s sides, then presses in—Davey cries out, a harsh, desperate sound that tears out of him as he grinds up into the sensation.

“Jack,” he gasps, mindless, hips jerking uselessly in Jack’s unrelenting hold, body pulled taut and stretched loose at the same time, pleasure coiling in his belly. “Jack, I’m— I can’t—”

One particularly filthy swipe of Jack’s tongue has Davey’s breath hitching in his chest, head thrown back as the feelings swell and crest, and it only takes one more teasing flick before Davey’s coming with a broken moan.

“Jack,” he croaks when his lungs reinflate. “Holy shit.”

Jack’s mouth and chin are shiny with slick, his pupils blown wide and shaded with satisfaction. 

“Told you,” he says smugly. 

Davey tugs him down into another messy kiss, needing to lick that handsome smirk off his face. Then he rears up and flips them over so that he’s the one on top now, kneeling over Jack with his legs straddling Jack’s lap.

“My turn,” Davey murmurs, reaching down and taking Jack’s length—thick and hard and wet at the tip—in hand, lining it up at his entrance.

Then he takes a breath, leans back, and sinks down onto it in one slow, smooth downstroke. 

“Mmn,” Davey sighs, his eyes slipping shut as his body adjusts to the stinging stretch of finally being filled. He’s thrumming with tension, with heat, his thighs quivering where they’re spread wide around Jack’s hips, hands splayed against Jack’s chest for leverage, and it feels so good he could almost choke on the pleasure of it. 

Jack’s hands flex jerkily against Davey’s sides, then go wonderfully, bruisingly tight, thumbs pressing hard against the divots of his hips.

“Fuck, Davey,” he groans, staring up at Davey with dark eyes tinged with red, lovely and wanting. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart. So fucking gorgeous and absolutely perfect for me.”

“For you,” Davey agrees, grinding down in a tight, deliberate circle, ass flush against the cradle of Jack pelvis, and Jack’s scent burns even brighter, smoky and sweet. “And you’re all mine, aren’t you darling?”

“Always,” Jack promises.

Davey rises up then drops back down, carefully at first but quickly finding his rhythm, rocking his hips in a  steady back and forth motion that sends liquid fire sparking up his spine. Every slip and drag of Jack’s dick inside of him feels like being shaken apart and pieced back together all at once, aching desire coursing through him with every slap of skin against skin.

“Davey,” Jack pants, his hips bucking up to meet Davey’s own as he rolls down again, and Davey moans through the bursts of bliss that explode behind his eyelids. “Oh, fuck, that’s good.”

“Jack,” Davey gasps, leaning forward to tuck his nose against Jack’s neck, nipping at his pulse point as he grinds down in his lap, the scent of summer and cedar and mate, mate, mate anchoring him even as he goes a little scent drunk on how  right  it all is. “Jackie, I— oh, yes, just like that.”

Jack pulls him down into the next thrust, hard and fast, and Davey cries out, twisting his hip as he sinks into it. 

“Perfect,” Jack grunts, those hot, rough hands squeezing tight. “God, Davey, you look absolutely incredible. So fucking pretty, sweetheart, feel so good riding my cock.”

Davey works his hips that much faster at the praise, so much so that the bed starts rocking underneath them, the squeaky creak of the wooden frame echoing through the room in time with his own heaving breaths. He’s so wet now that he can hear Jack fucking him, hears the slick, dirty squelch of Jack’s knot pressing a little deeper inside of him every time they clash together, driving closer and closer to completion.

“Harder,” Davey pleads, his thighs burning from the effort of keeping up his pace but still needing more. “Jack, please—fuck, alpha, please—harder.”

Jack snarls—a low, rumbling, dangerously sexy sound—and his eyes bleed red, his scent washing over Davey like blazing fire. He leverages his legs up, bending them at the knee with his feet flat against the mattress, and when he thrusts up into Davey on the next roll of his hips, it feels so impossibly good that Davey’s mouth falls open around a broken, guttural little keen.

“O-oh,” Davey says, the word catching in his throat, barely able to think with how completely and utterly Jack is destroying him, his knot starting to thicken and swell against his rim as their bodies meet again and again. Davey arches his back, planting a hand against one of Jack’s bent knees for balance, chasing blindly after his pleasure, and Jack makes a noise like he’s going out of his damn mind, a possessive growl tearing its way out of his throat. “Oh fuck.”

“Say it again,” Jack orders, eyes on fire.

It falls out of Davey’s mouth, desperate and true: “Alpha, alpha, my alpha—”

“My omega,” Jack says, his voice low and gritty, rut and desire clouding his gaze. “Mine.”

They’re both teetering on the edge. Jack’s knot is catching on every thrust, fucking him open in torturous, delicious increments, and Davey wants, wants,  wants.

“Jack,” Davey’s head hangs heavy between his shoulders, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he pants and sighs. “Jackie, yes, give it to me, give it to me, please, yes—”

Jack’s hands slide lower, clench harder, and Davey has one second to delight in how much he loves the feel of those big hands curled around him before the world spins and he lands flat on his back again with Jack braced above him, his eyes wild and vivid red. He grabs the backs of Davey’s thighs and pushes his knees up towards his ears, hardly faltering at all before he’s driving back inside again, fast and hard and so, so deep, and Davey’s boiling, blistering from the feeling of Jack, always Jack, pulsing inside of him, etched right into the seams of his heart.

“Mine,” Jack growls again, nipping viciously at the base of Davey’s throat, tongue swirling over his scent gland like he’s already trying to taste his claim. Davey tilts his head back with a needy whine, unable to do anything except offer himself up to him, freely and wholly. “Mate. Mine.”

“Jack,” Davey whimpers. “Jack, I— I’m—”

“You’re going to come for me,” Jack orders, pistoning his hips even harder, and the new angle means that he’s tagging that sweet spot inside on every other thrust, fierce and relentless. 

“Yes,” Davey moans, sparks flying at the edges of his vision. “Yes, I’m— Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t—”

Jack presses him down, snaps his hips forward, sharp, and his knot finally catches, swells, and locks inside of him. Heat thrums, then surges through him, white hot, at the searing stretch of it and Davey comes so hard he goes lightheaded, body rippling and writhing through wave after wave of pleasure. Jack manages a couple more filthy grinds of his hips before he’s tumbling over the edge right after him, capturing Davey’s mouth in a breathless, bruising kiss as his orgasm rocks through them both.

When he feels like he can move his limbs again, Davey lets his legs slip down to wrap around Jack’s waist, looping his arms loosely around Jack’s neck. He turns his face towards Jack’s temple and inhales, smiling softly when he catches the smoky, spicy, cooling-embers scent of a sated, happily exhausted alpha.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Davey murmurs, brushing Jack’s sweaty hair off his forehead with a gentle touch. “Alright?”

Jack mouths something unintelligible against his collarbone, a solid, grounding weight sprawled bonelessly on top of him. Davey cups his hand around the nape of Jack’s neck, then strokes soothingly down his back, his mind a wash of hazy contentment. 

“‘M good,” Jack grunts. “I’m… fuck, Dave.”

Davey huffs out a laugh, then presses a kiss to the high point of Jack’s cheek. “Fuck,” he echoes hoarsely, still recovering from his high.

“You?” Jack asks, nuzzling clumsily at the column of Davey’s throat. “Feelin’ okay?”

“Better than,” Davey decides, his body aching deliciously around the hot, hard knot pressed inside of him, stomach sticky with with own release, his thighs wet with slick and come, neck littered with marks, the air thick with their combined scents, spring and citrus and cedar and sweet  melded perfectly together, and he feels totally, entirely, completely— “Feel claimed.”

Jack’s body twitches, his knot throbbing as he spills another burst of pleasure deep inside of him. Davey hums, pleased, some base omega instinct purring with satisfaction at how wonderfully full he is.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Jack eventually gets out, voice rough and raspy and  wrecked.  “You can’t just— Have mercy on your poor alpha.”

“My alpha,” Davey agrees. “All mine.”

[alistair-phoenix]

Prompt #8: Adroit

Tales of the Wayfaring Mage

Dwarves

Depending on who you ask, you will either have a positive or negative response. Loud drunks with rocks for brains or brilliant metalworkers with hearts of gold and livers of steel.

But after a hard day's work, they settle down over a pint... or keg. A sort of experience of camaraderie you wouldn't find anywhere else. Anyone that has either fought or worked alongside dwarves are treated like brothers and sisters of their own.

Arm wrestling matches were a favorite pastime for the miners. Most strength tests were. That and drinking. ---

Another day had passed for the mining crew and it was time to relax until next time. A small group of dwarves approached their Bar in the Wall with an amber-eyed human in tow.

“Not bad fer a gangly beanstalk's first month down 'ere.” One dwarf with red beard elbowed the human's side. “Didn' hafta pick up any slack in th' last week. Progress!”

Another dwarf that had a blonde beard laughed, “Aye, an now e's got sum meat on 'is bones. Ain't no beanstalk no more.”

A dwarf with a brown beard shook his head, “Nope, e's more a, cornstalk now, aye? Aye?”

The group as well as the human laughed as they approached a table.

“I tell ya what, son, ye certainly surprised me.” The black bearded dwarf smirked at the human. “A whole lot o' us didn't think ye'd last down 'ere. Goin’ back t' yer namby pamby nobleman's life from dust in yer eyes.”

“Surprised th' lot o' us.”

“Sure did.”

“Who'd 'ave thunk!”

The human smiled at the dwarves and their words. “We are most glad that we were able to exceed expectations.”

All of the dwarves looked at each other and snorted at the response, one even thumbing to the human, and all with smirks on their faces.

“Now if only ya'd drop th' fancy talk.” The red-bearded dwarf smacked the table with his hand before turning to the barmaids. “Need a couple mugs o' ale 'ere!”

“Please.” The human quickly added afterwards, which got a laugh out of the other dwarves.

“Least one o' yas got some manners.” The dwarven barmaid teased before turning to the taps.

Once the dwarven miners pulled up a chair, the blonde-bearded dwarf turned to Alistair. “Alright, lad. This time, yer gonna drink like th' rest o' us.”

“Pardon?” The amber-eyed man questioned as he sat down in a chair that was slightly out of spec with his size.

“Ye heard 'im, lad! Drink with yer brothers!” The brown-bearded dwarf answered. “After all yer hard work, why wouldn't ye?”

“Well...” The human had trouble trying to gather his thoughts.

“Don't even try t' talk yer way out of it.” The black-bearded dwarf interrupted. “Ye've been flakin' out on drinkin' with th' guys since ya first got here. Ye only drink one mug! Not nearly enuff.” He smacked the table with his fist. “Ye even miss out on arm wrestlin', too! Can't 'ave that either! Yer workin' with us!”

“But... you are stronger than us.” The defeatist human tried to excuse himself.

“That's quitters talk!”

“Milksop!”

“Come off it!”

The dwarves continued to poke fun at the human until the red-bearded dwarf smacked the table one more time. “Alright, lads, let's not give th' nobleman a hard time. He's obviously above our cultural traditions. Let 'im sit it out.”

This comment did not go unnoticed by the only human at the table. Such words stirred within his heart and mind, irritating him the more he sat on it.

“Alright, lads, ale's 'ere!” The barmaid approached with a serving tray held aloft, cutting off any more jabs at the human patron.

With a loud cheer, the group tended to their mugs with fervor as though it would be the last mug they would drink in a while. Meanwhile, the human watched his consumption as well as plotting something in the back of his mind.

---

After everyone had been through 3 mugs of ale, the revelry truly began. A couple of them started singing songs with others clapping along. More dwarves had even started showing up to join in after work. Soon there were dwarves dancing about and arm wrestling matches all around. The place was filled with merriment and joy.

“Say, boy!” The red-bearded dwarf from earlier approached the human, sitting across from him. “Come on. Ya gotta, do it.” He placed his elbow on the table and raised his arm along with his brow. “Come on! Show me what ya got!”

Some of the other dwarves nearby tugged and shoved the man around in a light roughhousing manner.

“Come on!”

“Do it! Do it! do it!”

“Give it a shot!”

The human sighed and squared up, putting his elbow on the table. “Fine. I can try.” He lifted his arm and he gripped the dwarf's hand.

The spectating dwarves cheered, some even laughed as though already expecting a certain result. Another dwarf placed his hand over the competitor's hands and looked between the two.

“Ready!?” He looked between the two.

Both the dwarf and human competing tightened their muscles, waiting for the moment to start.

“Go!”

The dwarf and human both started pushing against the other either with all or some of their strength. The dwarf did not appear to be using much of their own muscle to hold the human back. In fact, once he found out how much stronger, he decided to get cocky.

He let the human struggle to push his hand to one side only for him to push back to center. He was just going to mess with the human a bit before he could snatch his clear victory.

“Oh, so close.” The dwarf taunted before pushing back and slowly being pushed against. “Oh no, I think... I lost me strength.” He stopped his arm just half way. “I think I could use some more ale.”

The human struggled but never gave up trying in spite of everything. They were a part of the spectacle and he was the fool. But... he would be a fool no longer.

Suddenly the dwarf found his eyes watering up, an urge was rising within him. It felt like something was rubbing against his eye. He wanted to dig it out but he was still stuck in his arm wrestling match. He couldn't afford to rub his eye now!

Within that instant, the human swiftly pushed their hand down, the back of the dwarf's hand met the table.

Silence reigned around the table.

…

“Did we win?” The human asked as he slowly released his opponent's hand, dumbstruck as everyone else.

A loud cheer erupted all around them. Several of the dwarves were shoving the human around and giving rough pats on the back.

“Got somethin' in me eye...” The red-bearded opponent raised his hand to rub the corners of his eyes. “I think? But yeah, ya won. But don't let it go t’ yer head!”

The amber-eyed man laughed and waved his hand dismissively. “Promise not to.” However, he did not have the heart to tell him he cheated a bit. He had magically accumulated dust as well as dirt and gradually pushed them into the dwarf's eyes.

However, once that match was over, more dwarves wanted to challenge the human that bested a dwarf in arm wrestling.

The boy needed to figure out new clever methods and quickly...

[mizumelona]

set me up | atsumu x reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re an ambitious career woman, who’s got everything…except a significant other. Your mom, sick of you showing up to family functions alone, sets you up on a series of (terrible) blind dates. You make these dates meet you at your favorite restaurant, Onigiri Miya, but for some reason the owner’s jerk of a twin brother always happens to be there exactly when things crash and burn.

NOTE: I had a ton of fun writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy. Things are finally starting to pick up between Atsumu and the MC hehe.

MASTERLIST

PREV | DATE 2 - THE LYING, CHEATING BASTARD | NEXT

TAGLIST: @awkwardali6106 @kasandrafaye @veggytaled @svtbitch @stinkyobeymerat @hollypastl @differentballooncollection @o51oc @sunboikyo00 @justxanotherxshipper @kaisemieita

~

Onigiri Miya. Sunday 10:55AM

You did a quick survey for a certain dye job jerk as you opened the door and stepped into Onigiri Miya. The coast was clear. Awesome.

“Glad ‘Tsumu isn’t here?”, Osamu called out to you as he continued wiping dishes. You’d stopped by nearly every day this past week, and had gotten in the habit of chatting with Osamu while he prepared your orders. Yes the amount of onigiri you ate was getting a little ridiculous but at least you were eating real meals and not resorting to soylent. Surprisingly, you hadn’t encountered Atsumu during your visits.

“Hey Osamu! Haha yeah it’s just that I have another date today and I don’t trust him not to butt in”

“Yeah I wouldn’t either”

Just then, the door chimes jingled. You quickly fixed your hair and turned to put on that demure smile you’d been practicing, but it was immediately wiped off your face as your least favorite blondie walked through the door.

“Pfft. That smile was even more ridiculous than the last time sweetheart”, Atsumu said with a chuckle, setting down his bag and taking a seat at the bar. “Though I hafta admit I didn’t expect to see ya here so soon” He looked you up and down. “Another date?”

“None of your business lemon head.” Atsumu grimaced at the nickname. “I still can’t believe you two are related. You’re my favorite Osamu” You smiled and held out your fist. Osamu put down his dishcloth and walked around the counter to fist bump you back.

“Woah. Woah. Since when didja become buddies”

“Since ya left for your training camp this week”, Osamu said matter-of-factly.

“Ooo are you jealous?”, you said with a sly smile.

Atsumu let out an incredulous noise. You were about to let out a little snicker when as if he’d gotten some kind of brilliant idea he narrowed his eyes and his lips curled into a smirk. Oh no. Your date was about to show up any second. You did not have time to deal with his antics.

“Lemme tell ya now sweetheart, I’m a much better friend than ’Samu”

As if on cue, the door chimes jingled again. The timing was bad but there was nothing you could do about it. You smoothed out your clothes and turned putting on the demure smile again.

You quickly evaluated your date. Tall. Round eyes. Dimples! Dark wavy hair tucked under a blue baseball cap. He had the kind of smile that made you hold your breath. What a catch. You couldn’t believe this guy was still single. Thank you mom!

“Hey! Are you y/n?”, he said. His eyes were quite literally sparkling.

“Yes that’s me!”

“I’m Daisuke. Thanks so much for coming. Sorry, my mom’s been getting a little carried away with her schemes to get me on dates”

“Same!”

You stood there looking at each other for a moment. Maybe this whole dating thing wasn’t as bad as you thought.

“Hey do you want to grab a seat over there?”

“Yeah sure”. You guided Daisuke to the same table you used last week that was as far away from Atsumu as possible.

While you were busy getting situated, Atsumu turned to Osamu with that devious smirk still on his face.

“‘Samu, let me borrow that”

“Wha- ‘Tsumu!”

~

“It’s weird because before it was like they didn’t want me to date at all, but now it’s like…”

“Hey!” A voice piped in. Oh no. “Welcome to Onigiri Miya! What can I getcha today?”

You turned toward your server with a clenched jaw. Sure enough, Atsumu was standing there wearing Osamu’s apron with his blonde hair sticking out from under Osamu’s cap. Your eyebrow twitched.

Daisuke was unphased. He probably hadn’t even realized that it was a different guy from the one that greeted him at the door. “Hi! Could I get the unagi rice ball”

“‘Course! How about you miss?”, They both turned to you expectantly. You were seething, but now was not the time to be breaking down. You needed this date to work. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll get the minced tuna and spring onion rice ball.” You looked Atsumu straight in the eyes. “Please~”

“Okay gotcha. I’ll be back with your food real soon.” Atsumu gave you lazy smirk and sauntered back toward Osamu. He’d better not be coming back. Osamu threw an apologetic look in your direction, weakly mouthing a sorry.

It looked like you were going to have to take things into your own hands. You turned to Daisuke. “Hey I actually forgot a part of my order. I’ll go tell him real fast and be right back”

“Oh do you want me to go inste-“

“I can do it”

You gave Daisuke a little smile then stood up and stalked toward the bar where Atsumu was chatting with Osamu, grabbing him by his sleeve.

“What do you think you’re doing”, you snapped.

“Woah there. I’m just trying to save ya from yourself sweetheart.” He smirked. “Let’s face it, that last date was a trainwreck. I’m helping’ ya out here”

“Don’t mess with me. Helping? Do you think this is funny?”

“Of course”, he said with a chuckle. This bastard. “Ya want some strawberry juice? On the house. Might help you chill out. Mr. dimples over there is lookin’ a little freaked out”

Shit. You glanced back at the table. Daisuke was watching with a worried look. You quickly released Atsumu’s sleeve.

You leaned in and whispered “Stay. Out. Of. My. Date.”

You went back to your seat. Daisuke still looked concerned.

“Are you okay?”, he tentatively asked.

“I’m fine!”, you quickly quipped back.

“Here’s that strawberry juice you asked for”, Atsumu arrived with a glass sloshing with magenta liquid. He placed it on the table with a wink and walked back to the bar.

“So where were we again…oh yeah dating…” Daisuke said turning to look out the window. He froze, then quickly pulled down his hat and turned away.

“Hey is everything okay?”, you asked.

“Oh. Yeah! Totally”, he tried to sound nonchalant, but everything about him was suspicious.

You looked out the window towards where he’d been looking. There was a fashionable looking woman about the same age as you staring into the restaurant. She looked pissed.

“Hey Daisuke, do you know that person?”

“Huh, no, not at all” He let out an anxious laugh.

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock against the window. You jolted in your seat. The woman had walked up to the window and was currently glaring daggers at Daisuke.

“Are you sure? She looks pretty upset”

“Yeah, you can ignore her”

The woman rolled her eyes and walked away…or so it appeared. Two seconds later the door to the restaurant opened with a slam.

“Daisuke!” Her heels clacked she made her way over to the table you were sitting at.

“Shit”, Daisuke muttered.

“You lying, cheating bastard! Another girl? I saw you with Risa yesterday and Hana the day before that” She turned to you. “Hey I know he looks cute, but trust me he’s not worth the trouble. He’s just going to find another girl once he sleeps with you”

“Ah…” There went your perfect date. You should’ve known he was a little too good to be true.

She turned back to Daisuke. “You are absolute trash.” She picked up his glass of water. Oh no. You leaned away as she dumped it over his head, avoiding any stray splashes. Whew. You relaxed in your seat. What is this? A K-drama?

She scoffed and turned away. Her bag swung with the motion making contact with the glass of juice which in turn sent its contents flying over the edge of the table and onto your lap with an audible splash. You bit your lip then let out a deep sigh and looked down. Your (formerly) spotless cream shorts were covered with bright pink stains.

“Oof”, you heard Atsumu and Osamu say in unison from the prep station.

“Oh sh-. I’m so sorry about that”, she tried to apologize, but you weren’t listening.

She hurriedly pulled a bunch of napkins out of the nearby dispenser sopping up whatever was left on the table. Thankfully there wasn’t much to clean on the chair or ground because it had all been absorbed by your clothes.

“I think that’s enough”, you sharply cut both the woman and Daisuke off.

You stood up, stalking toward the cash register, and snatched a bill out of your wallet, handing it to Osamu. “Hey Osamu, I’m so sorry about this mess, could you switch my food to takeout”,

“Uh sure,” He stuffed the finished rice ball into a bag and handed it to you. “But are you o-“

“It’s fine~”, you said with a slightly manic chuckle. “I’ll be going now”. You opened the door and let yourself out in one swift motion. You paused outside of the restaurant, looking down at yourself on more time. You bit your lip to suppress the desire to shout profanities and started walking back toward your apartment.

The restaurant door opened again followed by the sound of footsteps approaching you. “Hey!” You recognized that voice but hoped he would just go away. You didn’t have the patience for another fight with the petty lemon head.

“Y/N, Wait!”

You stopped, turning to face him with crossed arms. “What”

He dug through his bag and pulled a black sweater out, holding it out in your direction. “Here”

Your jaw clenched. “I don’t need your help”

“‘Course not”. He stepped forward still holding it out. “This is me being selfish”

That was a bit surprising and even a bit gentlemanly. You were stunned. You paused for a second then reached out and gripped the fabric.

“…thanks”

You tied it around your waist, covering most of the stain.

He stood there watching you for a second, then with an unexpectedly sincere looking smile he adjusted his bag on his shoulder and started walking back towards the restaurant. “See ya later sweetheart”

~

Later that night you picked up the sweater from where you’d tossed it before you went to shower. Some of the juice had gotten onto it, but I was black so it probably wouldn’t stain. It smelled faintly of the strawberry juice as well as a light cologne. You held it up taking a closer look at the logo on it.

MSBY Black Jackals

What’s that? You picked up your phone and ran a quick google search. A variety of pictures of guys in black uniforms chasing after blue and yellow balls showed up. You paused, recognizing Atsumu in one of these pictures. He was leaping into the air about to smack a ball with the biggest grin on his face. You had to admit. He looked a little cool. Just a little.

“Volleyball huh”

[murdertrialimagines]

V3 Boys Doing Kabedon On S/O

“Hello, welcome there ! Can i request danganronpa v3 boys doing kabedon on their S/O please ? >.< Merci ~ “

I haven’t even thought about kabedon in ages! This is such a cute idea, I’m in love! Story under the tag~

P.S: In case you don’t know what kabedon is, here is a definition: ‘Kabedon is a very popular means of expressing romantic love or adoration. It is done by a man hitting his hand on a wall, pinning the woman in the process.’

Shuichi Saihara

We all know Shuichi is shy when it comes to romance

He would glow red just as you holding his hand in public

Which is why you two would only cuddle in private, as he was worried about being teased

But today he was stressed

He had spent a week straight trying to find the mastermind, with nothing to show for it

That also meant a week of not seeing you as much as he liked, and he was craving from attention

He walked into your dorm without asking, knowing that you were there, probably sitting at a desk reading or drawing

“Shuichi!” You stood up from your desk, walking towards him. “What are you doing here?”

As you approached your boyfriend you saw the serious expression on his face, causing you to slow down 

“Shuichi, are you okay? Have you been sleepi-”

You were forcefully cut off by Shuichi taking a sudden step forward, lightly grabbing your shoulder and pushing you against the wall, slamming his hand into the wall near your head in the process

Looking up at Shuichi, your face reddened at the serious look he had painted on

His eyes were unreadable, only observing you

He collapsed into you, your back thudding lightly against the wall

“Shuichi...?”

You felt his arms wrap around your waist, tightening when he sensed that you were balanced

“I’m sorry Y/n, I really wanted to see you, but I am just so exhausted...”

Relaxing, you returned his hug, smiling softly into his chest

“It’s alright Shuichi, I just wish you hadn’t worked yourself so hard.”

Lightly pushing him back, you led the sluggish boy to the bed, laying him down before getting in yourself

Pulling the covered over the two of you, you silently giggled as Shuichi nuzzled into you, making you into a makeshift teddy bear

“Goodnight love.”

Kaito Momota

It had only been a week since you had gotten stuck in this killing game with all these other students, everyone was just starting to settle in to this new life

People were starting to find the people they could be friends with, while you were stuck with a die-hard crush

The ultimate astronaut, who had already been yelled at multiple times for getting in too many people’s personal spaces, had somehow swooped in and stolen your heart despite only speaking to you a handful of times

And he only really spoke to you if he needed a favor or to hide from someone, so you started to deny his requests, turning and walking away before he could see the faint red on your cheeks 

You were walking through the main hall of the school when you were suddenly pushed into the wall, jumping at the thud of the handing hitting the wall next to your head

Looking up to see Kaito, you huffed and diverted your gaze, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as if to give your hands something to do

“What do you want, Kaito? I can’t hide you in my room anymore, Maki knows that’s where you go, and I’d like to not have a repeat of two days ago.”

“Aw, lighten up, Y/N! You know, it’s good to learn to always be on alert, so maybe having Maki break in was a good way to test you!”

“I needed a new door, Kaito.” You glared at him

“And I am sorry about that! But look, I’m here to ask something of you, this time with less fighting and more...talking!”

Talking?

“Spit it out, please.”

Kaito sighed, using his free hand to rub his neck

“Okay. Y/n, I know I am really not in the position to ask this, but, would you maybe wanna have a picnic sometime?”

As the words sunk in, your eyes widened, looking at the boy standing over you. A date? Date?!

Struggling to contain your excitement, you flashed a small smile before pushing his hand down, letting your linger on it just a second longer

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

Ryoma Hoshi

I am so sorry I can’t think of anything but Ryoma trying to do it and only reaching your legs I’m sorry if you really wanted Ryoma but I can’t stop laughing-

Rantaro Amami

You and Rantaro had been close since this whole thing started, you even saving him from Kaede’s trap to kill the mastermind

She apologized profusely of course

Today had been one of those days where there was nothing to do, no motives, no threats, just hanging out

You and Rantaro had been hanging out in the dining hall, eating a late lunch and generally just being bored

Searching for any form of entertainment, you noticed the bottle of soda Rantaro was drinking from and got an idea

Swiping it from his hand, you skipped away from the table

“Y/n, can I have that back?”

“Nope! You’ll hafta come get it!”

This resulted in the two of you fast-jogging around the dining room, him trying to retrieve his stolen drink

Well, you were sprinting, this boy has really long legs

After a couple laps around the room you began to get exhausted, and resorted to just huddling into a corner, back facing your boyfriend

You felt him approach your back, and stifled a giggle

“Y/n, can I have my drink back?” He was panting, as the run had also taken some effort on his part

You shook your head no, pulling the bottle closer to your stomach, away from his reach

He continued to ask, nudging your shoulder or placing a hand on your head, only earning a small laugh or a no as a response

You were suddenly flipped around, a hand forcefully pulling on your shoulder, forcing you to face him, another on the wall next to you

You made eye contact as he leaned down, face inches from yours

“Y/n, you are adorable...”

The hand on the wall dropped down to your chin, holding it in place

Rantaro began to lean in, eyes closing slowly, and yours doing the same

As you anticipated the next blissful moments, a strong pull ripped the bottle from your relaxed hand, your boyfriend suddenly backing off

He gave you a lopsided smirk before walking out of the dining hall, taking a small sip of his drink as if to show victory

“H-hey! This isn’t fair, you owe me a kiss!”

Gonta Gokuhara

Gonta is many things

He’s sweet, funny, smart, and gentle

But he doesn’t really know what personal space is, especially when he’s excited

You two had spent nearly the whole day in his lab, you letting him gush about his bugs and the ones he found particularly pretty

“Any that remind me of Y/n are the best!”

Gonta had been flipping through multiple books trying to find a picture of the butterfly that reminded him of you the most, and it was taking quite some time

You took this time to look at the butterflies pinned to the wall more closely, taking in each spot and groove on the wings.

“Y/n! I found it!”

You jumped at the sudden boom of voice, turning around just in time to be pushed against the wall, book in your face

“See! This one is amazing, pretty! Like you! Gonta apologize for how long it took to find...” He lowered the book, making you suddenly notice how close you two were to each other

Gonta seemed to notice too, as his cheeks turned red and he backed up slightly

“S-sorry! Gonta didn’t mean to hurt Y/n!”

You gave a breathy laugh, jumping up to give him a quick peck on the cheek

“It’s perfectly, fine, Gonta. I love you.”

Kokichi Oma

Let’s face it, Kokichi will pin anyone to anything if it gets a reaction out of them

He mostly does it to you, your blushy reaction always making him tease you even harder

So it wasn’t a huge surprise when he came rushing up behind you whilst on your way to the library

You let out a grunt as you were slammed into the wall, head hurting just a bit

“Y/n~! How’s my favorite little ultimate doing?”

Despite your desire to laugh in his face, you felt your face heating up, and only growing hotter as he leaned in closer

“Aw...whats the matter? Are you sick? Or are you deeply in love with someone?! Oh, let it be me, please!”

He leaned in further, noses touching. “Boop!”

Snapping out of it, you shoved him off, Kokichi casually pretending to be wounded like he always does, falling to the floor

“You’re no fun, Y/n!” His voice grew to a whisper as he clung to your leg. “What if I died?”

You shake your head and remove your leg from his grasp, walking away quickly

This boy will be the death of you, you swear.

Korekiyo Shinguji

...What was happening?

You had been walking to the dorms, planning on getting a nap in before lunch when all of a sudden, you were pinned to the dormitory wall, a tall man looming over you

To say you weren’t friends with Korekiyo was an understatement

No one was

He was just...there. Being him. He didn’t talk to anyone or try to interact. He liked to stare.

And here the boy was, arm next to your head and breathing down at you, breath blocked by the mask he always wore

“Can I help...you?”

Korekiyo seemed to snap out of a trance, eyes that were blankly staring at you now looking into your eyes with some actual living emotion

“Yes. I, uh, would like to ask for your assistance, with something in my ultimate lab...”

You felt your ears heat up, surprised at the way his voice sounded

It sounded really nice.

“I-uh, yeah...yeah! Of course I can help!”

He audibly let out a sigh, eyes averting from you. Was that a blush you see?

“Perfect. I see you’re doing something now, so I’ll request your presence after dinner. Goodbye.” He walked off quickly, sliding back into the school

Did you just...make friends with the unfriend-able?

Kiibo

You and Kiibo had been close since you guys met during the first days of the killing game

Who cares if he was a robot? You loved him and he didn’t know exactly what he was feeling so he guessed it was love!

You knew he was insecure about how little he knew about showing affection, so you were humored when he would confess he learned whatever romantic gesture he just did from another classmate

You didn’t care, it was sweet!

However, when he pinned you to the wall of the gym, you were startled

Mostly at the fact that he did it so forcefully his hand went into the wall, becoming stuck

“M-my apologies, Y/n! Kokichi told me to do it as hard as I can, so...”

The next few hours minutes were spent trying to pry him from the wall, Monokuma finally getting an exisal to dig him out when he had gotten bored of laughing at Kiibo

Kokichi, however, found it incredibly amusing, crying from laughter the second he saw what had happened, not letting him live it down for the next week

“I really gottta hand it to you, Kiibo! You know how to make someone swoon!”

________________________________________________________________

Ahh, this is so bad! I’m sorry some are so short, Ryoma doesn’t even have one! .-. Thank you for requesting!

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 22

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 22: Alfie copes with Ella being away with the Lees. Ella learns to cope with her loses. 

         Alfie was not a patient man. Of course, he would cross land and sea for his wife, didn’t mean it was easy to wait for her return. To keep his spirits up, he reminded himself that it was for the better. She was clearing her head after the months of trauma she endured while in Small Heath. He imagined the day they reunited. It couldn’t come soon enough.

           Alfie turned over and felt a warmth coming from Ella’s side of the bed. In his sleep-addled state, he furrowed his brow and blinked a few times. “El?”

           Cyril lurched forward and began licking his owner’s face. He had taken it upon himself to travel from the foot of the bed, where he usually slept, to take Ella’s empty spot.

           The man grumbled and shooed the mastiff away. “Oi, fuck off. Your breath smells like shit, mate.” He sighed and flopped back onto the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

           There was a soft whimpering from the window. Alfie turned over onto his side and saw Anthea with her front paws resting on the window sill so she could look outside. Her brown eyes watching the street below.

           “Thea, what’re you doing?”

           The pit bull whined and dropped down to pace around Ella’s side of the bed.

           “Yeah, I know, I miss her too.” Alfie rested a hand over his eyes. “I miss her too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Ella had forgotten how sharp the forest air was in the early morning. She nearly forgot the stinging cold of a river as she washed. Her teeth chattered as she worked quickly, scrubbing away the dirt under her fingernails. But she paused when she dragged the soap over her abdomen. The scar was ugly, ugliest she’d ever seen. Still slightly bruised and purple with what was left from the stitches that had been removed.      

           She frowned and passed the soap over the scar once, twice, three times. Hoping with every scrub that it would disappear.

           “Brought you some warmer clothes.”

           Ella jumped and turned, her eyes going to her gun which was concealed in the pile of clothes she’d left on the bank of the river.

           “Easy.” Isabel stopped a few feet from the bank so Ella wouldn’t spook more. “It’s just me.”

           Her shoulders fell in relief and she began to rinse the suds off her skin.

           “Mum was right, you Shelbys have gotten jumpy.” The young woman laughed softly. Isabel was a Traveler girl through and through. Her long ash-brown hair.

           “Sorry,” Ella mumbled and stepped out of the river, reaching for the towel that was hanging on a nearby tree.

           “No need to apologize.” Isabel smiled. She’d been partly made responsible for trying to help Ella through her withdrawal and see her through the grief. It had been a year since she’d lost her own daughter, who was only sixteen months old. There, of course, was a mystique around the Shelby family. But Isabel had known them growing up. It was strange to see how much Ella had changed but it was understandable.

           As Ella dried off, Isabel handed her the long skirt and jumper. “You must be freezing, you’re so thin.”

           “I lost weight in the hospital.” She mumbled and pulled on the warm clothes.

           “Well, I know we’ll get you back to a healthy weight.” Isabel smiled and sat down beside the river.

           Ella ran the towel through her hair. “Do you think people want me here?” She wondered.

           Her friend frowned. “Why wouldn’t they?”

           “It’s been a long time. I know Esme was on the road with you for a bit.” Ella couldn’t imagine that her former sister-in-law was gushing about how amazing the Shelbys were. Not after her beloved husband was gunned down.

           Isabel nodded and pulled her knees close to her chest. “Mhm, she’s with the Youngs now. Might see her in the spring or at the fair.”

           “Still.”

           “I think you’re forgetting that gypsy families take care of their own. Your brother made a deal with us and that’s that. There’s no ill blood between us.” She smiled.

           Ella sat down beside her. “I miss my husband already.” She sighed.

           “I can imagine. I saw the way you two were looking at each other. You must love him very much.”

           Tears stung her eyes. Coping through the withdrawal made her cry at the drop of a hat. Everything seemed to make her sad or angry. She tried her best to keep it under wraps. After all, she was a guest to the Lees and the last thing she wanted was to lash out at them. But it was gnawing at her insides like a parasite. “We’ve fallen so far apart. I didn’t want to fucking go to Birmingham but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wanted to protect me. Instead, my life ended.”

           Isabel wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “El, your life isn’t over.” She said softly.

           “Yes, it is.” She sniffled. “Alfie and I were meant to have a family together. Twins, a boy and a girl. And then Tommy’s fucking mess got me shot. Everything just came apart at the seams and I couldn’t do anything to fucking save it.”

           “But Alfie still loves you, you know that.”

           “There’s something in his eyes though, every time I look at him.” She hiccupped. “I know it’s bad. It’s like looking at me makes him sick.”

           “Oh Ella, that’s not true.” Isabel soothed. “You want him to be angry at you. You want him to hate you because you think you deserve it. But you don’t.” She began to trace spiraling designs in the wet sand of the riverbank. “When I lost Flora, I blamed myself. How could I let her die? She got sick so that made me a bad mother. But there are things in this world that we can’t control.”

           Ella wiped her eyes and felt a tremor go down her spine. She desperately wanted to numb the anguish inside.

           Isabel saw her friend start to tremble and twitch. “Here.” She took her hands and dipped them in the ice-cold water. Ella instinctually went to withdraw her hands but Isabel kept them submerged. “Just focus on the cold. Feel that?”

           Ella wanted to push her away but she forced herself to stay still. The chill in the water traveled up her arms leaving goosebumps. It was like a stinging injection right under her skin. A shock of the senses.

           “You’re alive, Ella.” Isabel urged. “That’s not a mistake. I know you don’t want to feel anything but you need to. It’s the only way you’re going to get through this.”

~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie scratched at his beard while he read through the numbers. “You double-check these?”

           Tommy nodded from his spot across the desk. “Polly did.”

           “Right, well, fucking trust her more than I trust you, mate.” He set the documents aside.

           “Most people do.” The Blinder didn’t seem insulted.

           “Good, right, it’s a deal then.” Alfie tipped his hat at the paper. It was funny how simpler business interactions went after he and Ella got married. Of course, he and Tommy could go down the usual course of negotiating until one of them pulled out a grenade or a gun. But both of them were well aware the other was flat out bluffing. Neither of them was willing to face Ella’s wrath. So, the trick lost its fun and purpose.

            “You hear from Ella?” Tommy asked once they signed documents and shook hands.

           “Yeah, got a letter yesterday,” Alfie answered. The handwritten pages were tucked inside his waistcoat. He’d pulled them out various times throughout the day to reread them. Reading his wife’s words made her feel closer to her despite the difference. “They’re in Wales. I suppose she’s having fun but there’s still…” He gestured with his hand as if trying to pluck the word out of the air.

           “Sadness.” Tommy nodded. “It’ll take time.”

           “Right, I know.” He grumbled and slipped off his glasses. How strange it was to have Tommy as sort of a confidante? Of course, the man wasn’t an expert on the relationship. But at least he was there and listening. Alfie wasn’t about to start monologuing with Anthea and Cyril. The day he did that was the day he committed himself to an asylum. “Just miss her.”

           “The whole family does.” Tommy nodded in agreement. “But I think we’re all hoping she finds some clarity. That’s the end goal, aye?”

           “Yeah and…” Alfie paused and held up a hand. His brow furrowed. “Hang on, did you just group me in with your family?”

           Tommy hadn’t realized what he said. After telling his sister Alfie would never be considered a part of the family, he’d been carefully walking the line. Sure he could consider the man his brother-in-law for legal purposes. But to see Alfie sitting in future family meetings made him want to both laugh and cringe in horror.

           “I think you’re reading into things.”

           Alfie raised an eyebrow. “Here’s the thing, Tommy, I’d rather be hung from me fucking thumbs than be considered a Shelby. So you don’t hafta worry ‘bout me going ‘round saying I’m a part of your fucking family. Just married your sister. We ain’t brothers.”

           “Touching, Alfie, truly.”

           “Oh, fuck off.”

~~~~~~~~~~

           Roddy was possibly the largest dog Ella had ever seen. He very well could’ve been the largest dog on the planet. But Isabel treated him like he was her baby. A massive Irish wolfhound, Roddy hit well above Ella’s waist. He was taller than her standing on his hind legs. Despite his unthinkable size and wolfish appearance, he was just as gentle as Cyril. It was a good thing he was around too because Ella missed her dogs. Having the shaggy gray-haired dog was a good comfort.

           Isabel took Roddy along with them on their early morning walks. For the first few weeks, Ella got physically sick nearly every morning. But her friend still insisted they go out. Ella complied but didn’t make it very far. Less than half a mile and she was begging to go back to camp to lie down. As the weeks turned into months, they traveled further every morning. Often times bringing food along because they wouldn’t return to camp until after lunchtime.

           Ella went barefoot as she used to as a child. The cold earth beneath her feet was soothing. She kept her right hand out to the side, grazing across the rough bark of passing trees and the fragile leaves of bushes and flowers.

           Three months in, Isabel, Roddy, and Ella found a beautiful clearing. They were stopped near a town called Geufron on the River Severn. Ella had done her best to take no notice of the distance they’d traveled. She was afraid that if she knew how far away, she was from Alfie and her family, she would panic. Instead, she kept following them west, never calculating how long they traveled between each stop. She simply was wherever they landed.

           Roddy loped through the clearing, scaring away a few birds. He dropped to the ground and began to roll around in the long grass. Isabel laughed softly and found a spot to rest.

           Ella sat as well and watched the wolfhound traipse about. Despite having most of her withdrawal symptoms faded, she was still left in a dark space. Being out in nature helped somewhat, but the sadness felt almost permanent. How could she possibly ever get back to her past self? The woman she was before returning to Small Heath?

           “You were crying last night,” Isabel commented gently after a few minutes of silence between the two.

           Of course, her friend heard her. The two slept only feet away from each other. “I’m sorry, didn’t meant to wake you.” She mumbled and picked at her nails.

           “You always apologize for things that don’t need apologies, El.” Isabel pointed out with a frank smile. “Have you ever apologized to yourself for treating yourself so badly?”

           Ella gave her a funny look. “Apologized to myself? For what?”

           “Well, have you been very kind to yourself lately? Or have you been negative?”

           The question was a difficult one for Ella to really think about. What nice things could she possibly say to herself? Kudos for losing your children? Good job for getting hooked on drugs? Bravo for screaming at your husband more times than you could count? “Negative.” She finally admitted.

           “You’re still angry.” Isabel noticed.

           She shrugged. “I suppose. I’ve got a lot to be angry ‘bout.”

           “Scream.”

           “Huh?”

           Isabel gestured to the open, empty space around them. “Go on and scream. Get some of the anger out. It’s doing you no good just stirring up inside you.”                                          

           Ella scoffed and shook her head. “I’m not going to scream.”

           “So, you’re just going to keep it balled up inside of you?”  

           The question was hauntingly familiar. Hadn’t Ella said that to Tommy at one point? Gazing blankly at the blue sky above them, she realized how much she had turned into her brother. “Fuck.” She grumbled and stood up. For a moment, she felt stupid. But then something punched her in the gut. It was anger, anger at so many things and so many people. Raw hurt and pain that had been eating her from the inside out. Tears stung her eyes and she began to scream. She kept at it until her lungs began to burn and her voice went hoarse. When she finally lost the energy, or she was satisfied enough, she looked up. Roddy was staring at her, his tail and ears perked up in confusion. Isabel was smiling.

           “How was that, then?”

           Ella took a deep breath. Admittedly, she did feel a bit lighter. “Felt alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           “Ab-.” Alfie frowned and peered at the name again. “Abers-Aberysh-fucking hell.” He scratched the back of his neck.

           Aberystwyth.

           That’s where Ella said they were headed towards. A town by the ocean in Wales. Their journey west would come to a stop and they’d head south before heading back east. Ella didn’t tell Alfie, but she had a choice. Isabel gave her the option of going back east with her family or meeting up with the Youngs to go further north, thus prolonging her time away.

           Still, Alfie didn’t question the date of her return. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her. But he couldn’t help but have a sickening worry for her all day and all night. To say he didn’t trust the Lees was an understatement. Despite being married into a family of Travelers, the Shelbys weren’t nomadic so Alfie could relate to them a little better. But the Lees were always on the road. It made him uneasy, not to mention he didn’t know any of the clan.

           Tommy had to reassure his brother-in-law that the Lees were allies. Had been ever since Esme married John. And despite John’s fatal fate, that alliance was still strong. The Shelbys had grown substantially stronger than they were over five years earlier. Tommy assured Alfie that the Lees were well aware of the consequences if something were to happen to Ella.

           However, many times he was told this, it didn’t completely sway Alfie’s opinion. Did he think Ella was in immediate danger? No. But he couldn’t imagine any good came from constantly being on the move. If she hadn’t been sending him letters the entire trip, he might’ve gone insane.

           She was brief, to her husband’s dismay. But Ella described some interesting things and people they came across. It was a much simpler way of living, as she wrote, and most of the day-to-day tasks went into keeping camp. Doing chores took much longer than they did in the city and filled up most of the day. But she seemed content with this. She gushed about how nice it was to be around horses again and to be submerged in the Welsh wilderness. It made Alfie smile when she spent an entire paragraph writing about the family of deer, they came across one day. She couldn’t get over the speckled fawn with its spindly legs and fidgety movements.

           Reading her write about the simpler things in life reminded Alfie of how they fell in love. When she admitted she wasn’t very worldly. Alfie could scoff at that statement looking back. Sure, maybe she hadn’t been to France or even have left the country. But she saw the world through lenses that some people could only dream of. Her gentle and thoughtful nature was beginning to blossom again. As well as her fiery spirit that had nearly been snuffed out by the coal filled air of Small Heath.

           So, while Alfie worried, he also gained some hope. It was just a matter of time before his Ella returned to him. He couldn’t wait to see the light in those blue eyes again.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​ @vampgirl1997​

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[dancerlittle006]

School Days

First things first, I don’t own anything related to Disney or Newsies. Second of all, this is a continuation of my “The Many Adventures of Sammi & Race” series. You may want to read the others in the series but it’s not necessary!  As always, feedback is always appreciated and loved!!!

September 1907

For the last several weeks, Katherine and Jack had talked about how exciting Sammi starting school was going to be. They were trying to hype the girl up but she was nervous. It also didn’t help that they had just welcomed another baby, Elizabeth Marie Kelly into the family and Sammi was very protective of her younger sister. Kat had suggested they get Race and Spot involved but Jack wasn’t ready to engage his brother and brother-in-law just yet.   

“But momma.” She stomped her foot. “Why doesn’t Tommy or Lizzie hafta go?” 

Kat smiled at her daughter. “They’re too young, Sammi. Besides, you’re a big girl and you can tell them how wonderful school will be when it’s their time to go.” 

“But I don’t want to go!” Sammi stomped her foot, just as the phone rang. Katherine took a break from arguing with her daughter to answer it. 

“Hi Race. No you’re not interrupting anything.” She said into the receiver. 

Sammi tuned her mother’s voice out, opting to play with her doll. She heard her mother hang up the phone before looking over her shoulder. “What’s wrong, momma?” 

“Benny isn’t feeling well and Uncle Race was calling about him.” Kat looked at Sammi. “How about we go visit them?” 

She rushed to get her shoes on while Kat put shoes on Tommy and bundled Lizzie up and placed her in the pram. They made their way down the street, heading towards Race and Spot’s brownstone. They soon arrived, Sammi running up the stairs to knock on the door while Tommy lumbered behind his older sister slowly. Katherine smiled at him picking up Lizzie and walking up the stairs just as the front door opened. “Thank God you’re here.” 

Her and the children rushed in behind him, shutting the door before they made their way through the house. Kat could hear Benny crying in his room. “Can I put Lizzie down in the bassinet?” 

Race nodded, ducking down the hallway to Benny’s room. Katherine laid the baby down before looking at Tommy, Sammi, and Ellie. “How about you three play while da and I look after Benny?” 

The kids nodded, loving the impromptu playdate. Katherine made sure they were all set before ducking down the hallway to the little boy’s room. He wasn’t crying as hard as when she first arrived, but was cuddled against Race’s shoulder. “How’s it going?” 

“He’s calmed for now.” Race sighed. “He was fine this morning but now, he’s just miserable, and wants to be held all the time.” 

Holding out her hands for the boy, she smiled as he reached for her. “What’s going on Benny Boo?” 

He whined, burying his head in her shoulder. “He feels warm to me. Have you tried giving him a bath?” 

“No .. . was I supposed to?” Race asked. Despite being a parent for over a year, he was still learning so much about the children. 

Kat chuckled, swaying side to side. “You’re not supposed to do any one particular thing but it may help bring the fever down, if he has one. It might help him feel better. Make the water lukewarm - not too hot.” 

Race nodded. He went to start a bath while Kat undressed the still whining baby. She sushed him and cooed at him before picking him back up, walking to the bathroom. Handing him over to his da, Race gently took off his diaper before putting him in the tub, heart tugging as Benny whined. 

“How did yous get so good at being a mom?” Race asked, as Benny relaxed in the tub. “How do you know what to do?” 

Kat leaned against the doorway, watching Race and Benny. “Well, I’m on my third child. I called my mother so many times during that first year with Sammi. She joked that she might as well move in which Jack quickly put his foot down about. But you learn and you figure things out.” 

Race nodded, taking a sponge and dragging water across Benny’s body, the boy giggling slightly. “Look at how much you’ve learned in the year since you adopted Ellie and Benny. Think of the things that you couldn’t do a year ago but now can do with your eyes closed.” 

Race chuckled, thinking about the first few weeks and months with the 3 year old and the baby. Bottle making, sleepless nights, times all four of them were crying. “You’re right. And Is sure we’ll continue to learn.” 

“You will.” Kat smiled, holding out a towel for Race to put Benny in. “Now I need your help.” 

Race transferred the wet baby to Kat’s awaiting arms before cleaning up the mess. “Anything, name your wish.” 

“I need you to talk with Sammi about school.” Kat sighed, laying the baby on the floor and putting a fresh diaper on him before picking him up once more before he could fuss. “She is adamant she doesn’t want to go.” 

Race smiled, walking towards Benny’s room, Kat trailing behind him. “Of course, absolutely. I thought she was excited to go.” 

“She was excited but since Lizzie was born, she doesn’t want to leave her sister behind. She keeps making up excuses.” Kat sighed. “Jack keeps telling me that she’ll get excited as it gets closer but we’re a week out and she doesn’t even want to talk about it.” 

He nodded, giving his sister a side hug. “I’ll talk to her in a little bit. Let’s get this little man taken care of. If you’ll give him a bottle, Is talk with Sammi.” 

She nodded, dressing him in a sleeper as Race went and made a bottle before returning, handing it over to Kat with a grin. He watched them for a minute before walking into the living room. Tommy, Sammi and Ellie all played with the trucks, blocks, and dolls scattered around them. “Sammi, can Is talk to you for a minute?”

She glanced at her uncle before walking over to where he sat on the couch. She climbed up and leaned against him. “Hi Uncle Race. Is Benny okay?” 

“He will be. Your mom is feeding him a bottle right now.” Race pulled Sammi onto his lap. “Are you ready for school?” 

Sammi laid her head on his shoulder, shaking her head. “Is not going to school. Is staying with mom, Tom, and Lizzie.” 

“But yous have to go to school. Yous don’t want mom and dad to go to jail, do you?” Race’s eyes went wide as the little girl giggled. 

Sammi giggled at how silly her uncle was. “Theys not gonna go to jail.” 

“Theys might if you don’t go to school.” Race chuckled. “Yous gonna have so much fun and Miss Hill is going to be a wonderful teacher and yous gonna learn so much. Yous might be smarter than your momma one day.” 

Sammi’s eyes went wide at her uncle’s statement. “Is not smarter than momma.” 

“Not now yous aren’t but one day yous might be.” He nodded, leaning close to his niece. “Besides, for someone who didn’t go to school, you can tell me all about it and maybe Is can learn with you.” 

She nodded, giving him a grin. “Okays, Is go to school.” 

Katherine came out of the hallway hearing her daughter’s proclamation with a grin. “You’re going to school, Samantha Anne?” 

“Yes momma! Uncle Race told me Is havta.” Sammi grinned at her mother as Katherine sat beside her. 

Kat shot Race an appreciative grin before looking at her daughter. “I’m so happy to hear that. You’re going to have a great time in school.” 

“Can I go play now?” Sammi asked, looking between her mother and uncle. 

Rave nodded, watching the little girl jump off the couch to go play with her cousin and brother.  Kat looked at Race with a grin. “Thank you for whatever you said to her. I love you and appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.” 

“Is told her that she’d be smarter than yous one day.” Race shrugged. “It seemed to work - she warmed up to the idea of school pretty quickly after that.” 

She clapped quietly. “Well I appreciate it regardless of what you said. And I hope she is smarter than me one day.” 

The front door opened and shut with a quiet bang as Spot walked in with a grin. “Kat! This is a surprise.” 

“When your husband calls up frantically due to your son being sick, a visit is a must.” Kat gave her friend a grin. “Benny’s sleeping and has a slight fever.” 

Spot gave Race a look before kissing him. “Calling up Kat when our son is sick?” 

“It was in a moment of panic and I didn’t know what to do. He was crying and Ellie was tugging at me.” He kissed Spot once more, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I really had her come over so Ellie would have someone to play with.” 

Katherine scoffed, shaking her head at the two of them. “You two are ridiculous.” 

“But you love us regardless of that.” Spot grinned, looking over at the three kids playing. 

Race raised an eyebrow. “I actually solved a problem of hers.” He said blowing on his nails, polishing them against his shirt. “Sammi has been in a state of denial about attending school and Uncle Race to the rescue and now she’s all excited.” 

Spot shook his head at his husband. “Of course all it took is one conversation with Uncle Race and suddenly it’s okay.” Giving Kat a look, “Haven’t you learned that trick yet?” 

“Yea, yea she loves you two more than she loves me and Jack.” Kat rolled her eyes at her daughter’s love of her uncles, actually all of her children’s love of their uncles. 

A Week Later

Flanked by her parents and Uncle Race, Sammi skipped on her way to school. She was giggling as Jack skipping alongside her. Kat and Race were walking arm in arm, shaking their heads at the two’s antics. 

Stopping in front of the school, Jack picked up Sammi, both of them looking at the big building in front of them. “Yous doing okay, Sammi?” 

“Uh huh.” She put her hand to her lip, eyes big at the building. “Its big, daddy.” 

“It is but you’re going to have a great day and learn lots.” Jack whispered as Kat and Race caught up to them. “Yous ready to go in?” 

She shrugged, looking over her shoulder at Race. “Yous come too?” 

“You think Is walked all this way and not comin’ in with you, Sammi?” Race grinned. “Yous crazy, silly girl. Let’s go.” 

They walked into the building, following other parents for the first day. They quickly found Miss Hill’s classroom before Jack put Sammi down. She clutched his hand as they walked into the classroom. The classroom was loud with kids playing and parents talking to one another. Race dropped to his knee and looked at Sammi. “This room looks like it’s so much fun. You’re going to have a great day here.” 

Kat and Jack both looked around the room, picking out Sammi’s teacher who was talking to another parent. “Shall we look for your desk, Sammi?” 

She held her hand out for Kat and Jack to take before walking deeper into the classroom. They looked at the clusters of desks before Jack pointed towards a cluster in the back corner. “I think I see a Samantha Kelly desk over there.” 

They made their way over to the desk, Sammi lighting up when she recognized her name taped to the desk. “Look momma!” 

“I see baby. It says Samantha.” Kat crouched down, grinning at Sammi. 

Jack joined his wife crouching down, dropping his voice to a whisper. “It looks like the BEST desk in the room to me.” 

Sammi giggled, just as Miss Hill came over to greet Sammi. “Hi Samantha, I’m so excited to have you in my class this year. Who did you bring with you today?” 

“Hi Miss Hill.” Sammi smiled brightly. “This is my momma, daddy, and Uncle Race.” 

Miss Hill looked at the three adults with a smile. “It’s very nice to meet you. We’ll be beginning class in a few minutes. Sammi, say your goodbyes and sit down at your desk when you’re ready.” 

Miss Hill left them alone as Sammi looked at the ground. “Do yous have to go?” 

“Afraid so, darlin’.” Kat smiled. “But you’re going to have so much fun and we’ll meet you outside after school, okay?” 

Sammi nodded, shuffling over to give Kat a hug before looking at her dad. “I love yous daddy.” 

“I love you too Samantha Anne.” Jack kissed her forehead. “Yous gonna do great things, darlin’. Have a great day of school and I’ll see you later.” 

She nodded, walking over to Uncle Race. “Yous be here after school?” 

“Yes, I will Sammi. I love you girlie. Have a great day at school and Is can’t wait to hear alls about it.” Race kissed her forehead, standing up and waving goodbye before he followed Kat and Jack out of the classroom. 

The three stood by the doorway as Sammi took her seat. She peaked up when another girl sat beside her, the two girls quickly talking to one another. Kat looked at the two men beside her with a grin. “Your girl will be just fine. It looks like she’s made a friend already. Let’s go before she sees us.” 

“But what if she . . .” Jack and Race both started, before Kat took their hands and led them from the doorway. 

Shaking her head, Kat grinned. “She will be fine. She’s a Kelly and with as much confidence and sass as that girl has, she’ll be just fine.” 

Walking out of the school, Kat sighed listening to Jack and Race come up with excuses on why they should hang around the school, “just in case” Sammi needed them. “Mark my words, Higgins and Kelly, she will be just fine and she’ll be even more excited about going back tomorrow.” 

3:00pm

The three had parted ways earlier that morning, Kat and Jack headed to The World while Race headed to the hotel to work his shift. They had gathered in front of the school, chatting quietly while they waited for the bell to ring.  It rang before children streamed out of every available door. “Do you see her yet?” 

Kat looked at Jack before shaking her head. Race grinned, pointing her out. “There she is.” 

Sammi raced over to where they sat, flying into Jack’s arms with a grin. “How was your day?” 

“IT WAS AMAZING!” She yelled, jumping up and down with a grin. “Is learned my ABCs!” 

Kat and Race fussed over Sammi with a grin while Jack hugged her close. “I’m so glad you had a great day, Sammi.” 

“Shall we go celebrate?” Kat asked, giving the three of them a big smile. “I think I hear the newly done schoolgirl loves ice cream?” 

Sammi’s eyes widened as she nodded her head. “Is LOVE ice cream.” 

“Shall we go get some?” Jack asked, picking her up in his arms before lacing his fingers with Kat. “Yous in Uncle Race?” 

Race grinned, nodding. “Of course, I am. Let’s go!” 

The four of them set off down the street, heading towards Jacobi’s for celebratory ice cream for Sammi’s first day of school. 

What did you think? Feedback and comments are always welcomed! 

[anistarrose]

The Liching Hour (TAZ Balance AU)

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/22963831

Summary: Taako is a lich, but he doesn’t die alongside Barry when his memories start to fade. In fact, he doesn’t die for another whole decade… until he arrives in Refuge, and first hears the clock strike noon.

Characters: Taako, Lup, Barry Bluejeans, Kravitz, Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch

Relationships: Lup & Taako, Kravitz/Taako, Barry Bluejeans/Lup

Additional tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Major Character Undeath, Angst with a Happy Ending, relationships listed in order of focus

“Taako is a lich too” is definitely an AU that’s been done before, but I couldn’t resist giving it my own unique twist! I actually started writing this fic exactly eleven months ago, when I was still fairly new to TAZ, but I forgot all about it until a few weeks ago when I came back to dust it off and finish the last few scenes.

(if you want an accompanying soundtrack for this fic, then I strongly recommend Lifetime Achievement Award by Lemon Demon! the song has big lich energy)

***

The set of planar systems traversed by our IPRE was indescribably vast, but far from the only one of its kind. Over eons, countless other universes are forged and then left to their own devices by elusory, non-interventionist creators — and in more than one of those universes, a ship called the Starblaster takes flight, propelled between planar systems by the strength of the bonds between its crew. In more than one of those universes, members of the IPRE put enough faith in those bonds to undertake a great risk — fusing their life forces with their magic and becoming liches, constructing a failsafe to protect their family from the Hunger that pursues them.

In one of those universes, Taako joins Lup and Barry in taking that risk. The ceremony goes as smoothly as the transformation into a lich can go, and the three of are all able to hold themselves together, thanks to their love for each other and their crewmates...

But when Lucretia feeds her records of their journey to the Voidfish, when Lup is already trapped in the Umbra Staff and Barry cleverly cheats amnesia by falling to his death off the deck of the Starblaster, Taako stays in his living form. Being undead isn’t the first thing he forgets — no, it’s Lup that he loses first, for Taako’s bonds with his twin are more carefully documented in Lucretia’s journals than anything else he’s done or cared about over the century — but the second that awareness of lichdom vanishes from his mind, the second he forgets the safety net he has in place in case of death, a self-preservation instinct kicks in again after nearly two decades of lying dormant. No need to go charging into uncharted and potentially deadly territory — Taako’s good out here.

For over a decade, he avoids death, and he never remembers what happens to him when he dies. Sometimes animals will shy away from him for no apparent reason, and maybe that faint burning sensation that fills his chest whenever Merle channels Pan to cast a healing spell on him is a little weird — but there’s no dogs on the moon and Merle hardly ever casts healing spells in the first place, so Taako just... tries to forget about it when he can, and convince himself it’s normal when he can’t.

He has a vague suspicion that he hasn’t been like this forever, but he can’t remember a clear date of onset for these symptoms, so he just brushes them off and keeps them to himself. It’s no one’s else’s business, anyways.

Or so he thinks, until he meets the Grim Reaper one fateful Candlenights.

***

There are two presents left under the shrub, both in similar silver-wrapped boxes — but one is addressed to all three Reclaimers, and the other is specifically labeled for Taako. Neither indicates the name of the sender.

Magnus and Merle don’t even attempt to hide the jealousy in their stares as they watch Taako pick up his gift, but something compels them to all stay silent and open the boxes as subtly as possibly while the Director makes conversation with Johann on the other side of the room. There’s nothing inherently suspicious about them other than the lack of a “from” name, though the handwriting on the tags is extremely familiar, but Taako still positions his arm to shield the box from the view of the others before he opens it and sees the contents…

The interior is plush purple velvet, cushioning two items: a coin and a note. The coin is golden and about as big as the circle made by Taako’s index finger and thumb when curled to meet at the tip, and it’s engraved with runes he doesn’t recognize — but he can read the accompanying note, though he has no idea what to make of what it says.

Keep this to yourself. If you ever encounter a situation in which you need it, you’ll know what to do with it when the time comes.

A quick use of Detect Magic reveals that the box and note are completely mundane, but the coin is enchanted. Nothing feels inherently volatile or dangerous about the complex divination spell it’s imbued with, but it still gives Taako a sinking feeling, like it’s something he should be forbidden from possessing.

So he casually slips the coin into his pocket and pops the note into his mouth, chewing and swallowing as he peers over Merle’s shoulder to examine the other gift — an identical box, this one holding three circular blue patches with twelve smaller circles embroidered around the circumference and an unreadable acronym word lying in the center. There’s another accompanying note here too, this one simply reading: “For your eyes only.”

Then, three different noises happen in very quick succession: Magnus turns to Taako and whispers “What was in yours?” and a second later, the Director echoes “What is that? What did you guys get?”

But before any of the boys can blurt out some lie despite not knowing why they feel so compelled to hide the gifts, the Director’s necklace unexpectedly interrupts the conversation, glowing faintly as a staticy, panicked voice yells “Lucretia!” The Director instantly whirls away from the boys, angrily whispering into her pendant which replies with words that are hard to make out from a distance.

Almost on reflex, Taako slips one of the patches into the same pocket as the coin and disposes of the second note with the same method he’d used for the first, cleansing his palate with an elderflower macaron immediately afterwards. He doesn’t think about the patches or the coin for a long time after that — but then again, he ends up getting distracted by a lot over the course of the next few hours. With the impeding crystal apocalypse, and the floating lab, and the death crimes and all.

***

“Well, that’s weird,” Noelle says. Her satellite dish is blinking green as it rotates, scanning the perimeter of the Cosmoscope two, three, four times. “At first, I thought it musta just been interference, but… one of you guys isn’t a lich, are you?”

“A what?” Magnus asks.

“A lich. The signal was real faint at first, but it just got stronger, and now it’s fluctuating a whole lot…”

“Nope, not me!” Magnus declares, with surprising confidence considering that he doesn’t appear to have any understanding of what being a lich means.

“Well, not that I’m aware of,” Taako answers slowly. “But I think even ya boy here would know if he was a lich. Right?”

“I’m friends with a few liches!” Merle adds. “They’re fun at parties.”

Noelle sighs at Merle’s comment, and then continues: “Yeah, Taako, I guess you’d hafta know if you were one. Guess my scanner’s just on the fritz.”

***

“Now Taako, Taako, Taako,” Kravitz mutters from within the sapphire mirror, and the pure exasperation on his face is almost adorable. “Care to take a guess what your bounty is for? I would really hope that you, at least, would know.”

Taako has a feeling he’s been saved for last because his crimes are the worst, but he’s got no clue why — there’s no way he’s died more than fifty-seven times, right?

“I dunno, is it about that tentacle thing? 'Cause don’t worry, my dude, this is a safe and non-judgmental environment where you don’t need to be afraid of being yourself —”

Kravitz's eyebrows raise and he looks aghast for a moment, but recovers quickly. “Taako, you've died twelve times — but alone, that makes you practically a law abiding citizen, compared to the company you keep! I never thought I’d see the day that I’d thought Magnus, with his 19 deaths, would be the least of the evils present, but — but —”

He sputters. “But you three all seem determined to make your crimes as unprecedented as possible —”

“Unprecedented, that’s me!” Taako laughs, and tries to ignore the half static-drowned screams of all his instincts, telling him to run as far away from Kravitz or any portal to the Astral Plane as he can get. “But uh, what is the deal with my bounty if —”

“Playing dumb about dying is one thing,” Kravitz growls, “but you’re really playing dumb about being a lich?”

“But I am dumb,” Taako blurts out, before the accusation really sinks in. “I’m just a humble idiot wizard!”

Kravitz bursts into bitter laughter. “An idiot necromancer, more like. Do you really —”

“There’s no way,” Magnus cuts in. “If Taako was a lich, we would have to know!”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you would, given how long the three of you have been cheating death together!” Kravitz replies.

“Okay, first of all — how do you know we’ve actually been cheating death for that long?” interrupts Merle. “We could’ve just died all those times in the span of, I don’t know, a month or two! We’re really incompetent.”

Magnus and Taako nod in enthusiastic agreement as Kravitz sighs.

“And second of all?”

“Uh... I forgot what I was going to say second.”

“Of course you did! What won’t you three conveniently forget — GAH!”

A giant skeletal hand reaches out of the Eternal Stockade and grabs Kravitz by the robe, dragging him inside the Eternal Stockade. It slams the door of the prison with a force that Taako winces at, all the way on the other side of the sapphire mirror.

“Did we solve the lich puzzle?” Merle asks. “Are we free to go?”

“Gonna be honest — just personally, I’m not too worried about the lich puzzle!” Taako shouts back, as a high-pitched hum emanates from the crystals around them and the room begins to shake. “Mostly just thinking about how much I don’t want to remember what dying feels like!”

“You know, that’s fair,” Merle agrees as he watches a complete skeleton materialize behind the hand, wading through the Astral Sea and towards the mirror. “That’s pretty fair.”

***

“Look, you saved my bacon back there,” Kravitz tells them after Legion is defeated. “Not just my career, but the world too. Things would have gotten very, very nasty, in a way that I wouldn’t have exactly wanted to put on my résumé…”

He sighs. “And Merle, Magnus… I would be willing to let you off with a warning, because you’ve technically never escaped the Astral Plane, and that leaves a convenient little loophole in the law for you two to slip through. Even Lucas — he’s learned his lesson with necromancy, it looks like. But Maureen, Noelle, and especially you, Taako — you’re all going to have to come with me. I can’t make exceptions for those of you who have succeeded in a jailbreak — nor can I do so for a lich.”

This time, he doesn’t spit the word lich with any of the disgust or outrage that were in his voice before, but rather speaks slowly and solemnly — and if Taako didn’t know better, he might think Kravitz actually felt bad about having to lock him up.

“Look, Ghost Rider.” Taako’s heart is racing just a little bit faster than he’s comfortable with, and the worst part is he doesn’t know why. It’s tempting to blame it on the slight crush may or may not be developing, but his crushes — although few and far-between — definitely never send his pulse up this fast this early in the relationship.

“You seem like an okay fellow who’s just trying to do your job, so I’ll be honest with you — I can’t remember ever touching necromancy with a ten-foot pole. Look, I used to make my living as a chef, and when you’re cooking the last thing you want is your meal coming back to life in front of you. I’ve got no motive!”

“Does your book with the bounties say anything else about the charges against him?” Magnus asks. “The charges against any of us, actually?”

“Not a single thing, I’m afraid. The bar’s not very high, but you are some of the… less unsavory bounties I’ve hunted, which is why I genuinely hate to say this, but —”

“Oh, so it’s savory you like? Let me take you out for an evening at Taako’s Bar and Café, and I’ll cook you up as many savory dishes as you like —”

“The — the bar,” Kravitz stammers, slipping out of his Cockney accent, “is so not high —”

“He just wants to help you broaden your horizons!” Merle chimes in. “You must not get out of the — the, uh, whatever your plane is called very often, do you?”

Kravitz sighs. “It’s the Astral Plane, and — and look, we just… we need to get going, alright? Taako, I… I could give you the benefit of the doubt, I suppose, and let you stay here until you die and return to your lich form, but I still need those two souls in the robots to come with me —”

“Wait!” Magnus interrupts. “Gambling with death is a trope for a reason, right? Can we play cards for their souls?”

Kravitz shrugs. “You know what? Sure! This day can’t get any wilder!”

***

Boyland’s rites of remembrance aren’t until tomorrow, but Taako is down in the Voidfish’s chambers ahead of time, Umbra Staff clutched tight as he stares at the twinkling galaxy pattern within the jellyfish’s bell.

“Uh… do you need something?” Johann asks after Taako’s stands there silently for about a minute.

Taako twirls his umbrella and shifts it from hand to hand, half expecting it to fire on its own again like it had when talking to Angus, but it stays dormant.

“Can your jellyfish pal, like… I dunno, choose what it innoculates you for?”

“Uh… no? At least, I think we woulda noticed if it could… why are you asking?”

“I was bored.” Taako turns to leave, but before he can get back in the elevator, he hears the Voidfish sing a short tune — not quite as loud as when Magnus had touched its tank, but definitely the same three notes.

***

Taako dies a few times in Refuge before he notices anything weird about it — well, not that dying and being revived continuously isn’t weird albeit familiar, but at first he’s just immediately whisked off to the white space alongside Merle and Magnus. No special treatment for him — until the first time that they die before the hour ends, and everything starts unraveling.

Magnus leans away from locker as he opens it, but it proves to be a futile precaution as the sound of an explosion blows out their eardrums and shockwaves tear through the room, sending the floor beneath their feet blasting towards the ceiling at the same time that massive boulders rain down from above, crushing the cave’s occupants before there’s even a chance process what happened.

As the dust settles and the roar of the explosives and falling rocks dies out, Taako blinks — except it feels strange, like it’s not his physical eyelids moving as much as it is his vision shifting into another spectrum, as if someone had just cast True Seeing on him.

Huh, he thinks. Thought that would’ve killed me.

And then: Of course it killed me. I’m a lich.

(Well, there goes any chance I had with Kravitz —)

I’m a lich like the Red Robe — no, like Barry. And like —

Like Lup.

How could I forget Lup?!

The sensation of incorporeality hits him on a delay and doesn’t stop hitting him, harder and harder until he feels like he’s about to disintegrate. His red-tinged skeletal hand drifts through the air, catching the silver threads that hang lazily like cobwebs in the space all around him as his spectral fingers curl into a fist. He clutches those bonds with every ounce of strength he has but they’re unraveling now, just like his robe, like his magically deformed essence…

He’s ready to disintegrate, to unravel, to crumble into ash just like Lup’s skeleton in Wave Echo Cave, because of course it was her, it was all that was left of her —

I found her but she was gone — everything was gone, except for her robe and —

“Taako?”

Lying just a few feet away from the hem of his robe is Lup’s Umbra Staff, pulverized into a dozen smoldering fragments — and above it floats another red-cloaked figure, eyes blazing red like miniature versions of the explosion that freed her.

“Taako, I’m here!” she assures him, and her echoing voice is a chorus of too many simultaneous emotions to count — it’s worried, and desperate, but joyous and relieved and comforting all at once. “Don’t break down on me now, Taako! It’s okay!”

Something solidifies in Taako, a grounding sensation so powerful he feels almost corporeal again, but words are failing him, motion is failing him. He stays frozen as the bonds he’d clung to wind back into place, stretching from his arms to Lup’s and pulling them together into the closest thing to a hug that liches can achieve, and he feels warm.

“You idiot,” he finally chokes out. “You didn’t think that absorbing magic shit would make a bad combo with being a fucking lich?”

Lup is literally beaming with happiness, emitting beams of light that would blind someone with physical eyes. “You didn’t exactly realize either, you dingus!”

They stay in the embrace for a few more minutes — and Taako may or may not let out an ugly, messy sob or two, complete with tears and snot made of pure magical energy that crackles like lightning when it strikes the rubble below — before he finally feels stable, and Lup quietly asks:

“How much time do we have? Forty minutes? Thirty-five?”

“What?” Her words don’t sink in immediately, but the second they do, Taako immediately feels like the victim of a sick joke. “Oh, shit. The Umbra Staff’s gonna get fixed next loop, and — and I’m not gonna remember you’re in there —”

“It’ll be okay,” Lup assures him. Taako can tell from the tone of her voice that she’s just as frustrated as he is with the irony of the paradox, except trying to redirect that anger into stubborn optimism. It’s a lifesaving skill for liches of their particular breed, that ability to channel destabilizing negative emotions into sustaining positive ones — a skill Taako hasn’t had much practice with, lately.

“There’s got to be some way to cheat the loops — you know, a loophole.” Lup laughs — a rasping, echoing noise that would probably be terrifying to anyone who didn’t know her, but is a massive relief for Taako to hear. “It’s practically in the name. We’ll figure something out — we always do. Let’s just think — and besides, I’m sure Magnus will get you blown up at least another two or three times, so we’ve technically got even more than forty minutes.”

“Right, right, okay. Physical objects are a no-go, Magnus figured that out after his bank robbing stunt —”

“Yeah, I think I caught that. So we’ll have to try something magical —”

“Wait.” A thousand different realizations are slowly coalescing together all at once in Taako’s mind, and he struggles to find words to articulate any of them. “How much could you, like — how much could you see from in there? You helped me out fighting the vine monster, right, and — and ruined Ango’s cookies, so… you musta been pretty aware to do all that —”

Lup looks down at the remains of the Umbra Staff, now reduced to mostly ash.

“I could see and do plenty, if I put enough effort into it,” she explains, “but it wore me out quickly, especially casting spells. After I spelled my name, I was just… clinging to consciousness for the next few weeks. That stunt might not have been the best idea, since I’d figured out by then that you couldn’t remember, but… I had to try.”

“Did you see Barry, in… let’s see, Goldcliff and the Cosmoscope? He, uh… wasn’t doing so great that second time…”

“He’ll be able to hold it together,” Lup declares confidently. “He’s stubborn like that.”

“Do you think he realized… your situation? He was pretty stable until he saw you —”

“He would have done something about it by now if he’d known, though…”

“Yeah, of course, you’re right. But he definitely seemed like he had some kinda plan — wait, I think I got it! Where’s my body?”

“Wait, got what?”

Taako levitates a few boulders out of place, and summons two Mage Hands to rifle through the pockets of his corporeal form. “Our way out of this time paradox shit, courtesy of Barold himself! As long as it didn’t get crushed — ah, here we go!”

One of the Mage Hands procures a familiar golden coin, imbued with a divination spell of Barry’s own engineering that Taako finally recognizes. “Well, I guess I don’t know for sure that Barry sent it to me, but it’s his spell and came alongside some IPRE patches, so I’m gonna say it sure wasn’t from Lucretia.”

“Is that — is that the spell he made when Magnus was worrying about the Temporal Chalice overwriting things without us knowing?”

“Yeah, storing info across timelines is its whole gimmick! He knew we were going to go after the Chalice eventually, and musta realized that I would forget anything I did as a lich if a time loop like this revived me —”

“Gods, I love him!” Lup shouts, laughing and lighting up with joy all over again. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s send Amnesiac Taako a message!”

***

Taako faceplants in the dirt alongside Merle and Magnus, alive again and holding an unbroken Umbra Staff. As always, Roswell stands guard outside the gate, and Taako and Magnus immediately start running through their explanation.

“Great job, Maggie!” Merle mutters under his breath. “Now we’ve gotta go through this whole shebang again.”

“We’ll be able to make a great speedrun video on Fantasy Youtube by the end of it, though!” Taako whispers back, and Roswell tilts their bird head in confusion.

“What? What’s a speedrun?”

Taako opens his mouth to reply, but a slightly muffled yet incredibly familiar voice from within the pocket of his skirt beats him to it.

Yo, Taako! T to the double A-K-O! I’m you from half an hour ago now, so listen up!

“What the fuck?” he blurts out, digging out the coin. “That’s — that’s not me! I never said —”

I know you don’t remember recording this, but there’s something you’ve really gotta do, the coin goes on, still in Taako’s voice, and he drops it to the ground and stares at it in horror. It’ll make sense later — well, maybe a long time later. Eventually, I hope!

“I don’t trust you!” Taako shouts, not sure if he’s expecting the coin to respond or not. “I don’t know who’s behind this, but I know a trick when I hear —”

You need to break the Umbra Staff, Taako, a second speaker explains, and Taako goes stiff at the sound of her voice. And you need to break it again in every new cycle — or every loop, I should say, until you get out of here. Please, Taako, trust us. We’ll explain as soon as we can, I promise.

Magnus kneels on the ground and pokes the coin gingerly, as if expecting it to explode. “Taako, where did you get this? Do you know what triggered it to —”

Taako snaps the Umbra Staff with his bare hands, and a column of fire erupts around him.

As his vision turns into an orange blur, he can just barely hear Merle yelp in shock and Magnus shout in concern over the roar of the flames, but he doesn’t feel afraid — which is itself a deeply unsettling feeling, because he should really be terrified out of his mind — but he just can’t fear this fire no matter how hard he tries. The warmth of the flames that weave so deftly around him is not harsh, but rather, comforting — almost fiercely comforting, in a way Taako wasn’t prepared to be comforted, a way that makes his heart seize up just like the woman’s voice that he couldn’t help but trust.

The blaze consolidates into a spectral figure in red who floats in front of him and nods, face obscured by the cowl of her robe but a smile manifesting clearly in her voice nevertheless.

“Thank you so much, Taako. I knew you’d come through.”

Then Magnus swings Railsplitter through her — harmlessly, of course — and she turns to face him.

“What do you want from this town, Red Robe?” Magnus yells. “Why did you bring Jack and June here?”

“Magnus, calm down! Really, I should be asking you about Jack and —”

She pauses, noticing Magnus’s disoriented expression. “Shit, was that static? You know, that’s probably for the best. Let’s start over: Magnus, Merle, Taako, earth elemental who’s name I missed —”

“I’m Roswell. Could you please identify yourself?”

“Magnus, Merle, Taako, Roswell — but mostly you Tres Horny Bois, or whatever you call yourselves these days — first things first, I’m not the Red Robe you met before. Second and on a related note, yes, I’ve been in Taako’s umbrella this whole time. Yes, it sucked. And third…”

She sighs. “You’re just going to have to take my word on this one, but I literally can’t explain who I am or why I’m on your side. It might seriously damage your minds, but I should be able to tell you my name, which is Lup.”

“Lup, why do I trust you?” The name feels strange in Taako’s mouth — familiar, except it shouldn’t be, except it is, except it couldn’t be, except…

The contradiction just spirals on forever, boring a hole in his mind that aches like hell and makes his stomach churn.

“Taako — oh, Taako, you’re not thinking about it too hard, are you? You can’t think about it too hard — you see why I can’t try and explain anything else. I would if I could…”

Slowly, with help from Lup’s Mage Hand, Taako stands up. He can’t even remember when he fell to his knees, but… he tries not to think too hard about it. Just take things one step at a time.

“Lup can help get us out of here,” he tells Magnus and Merle. “I don’t know why, but I’d trust her with my life even outside of a time loop, so… we’re doing what she says now.”

Magnus shrugged. “You know, I guess we could do a lot worse than putting a competent woman in charge, even if she’s undead. Lup, whatever your plan is, I’m down for it.”

***

By the time the purple worm dives back down beneath the earth with her children, Taako’s just about ready to collapse. Physically, he’s uninjured — he had a lich and an earth elemental watching his back, after all — but mentally, he’s a wreck. The persistent roar of static in the back of his mind has taken its toll, especially since the loop where he died before anyone else, and woke up to find Magnus and Merle giving him the two most confused and concerned looks he’d ever seen on their faces.

So when Avi freezes, glowing red, and everyone’s Stones of Farspeech go dark, Taako barely has the energy to wonder why until another robed figure materializes, holding a finger to his lips —

“DID YOU RETRIEVE THE…”

Every fold of fabric freezes in place, as lightning washes over the Red Robe’s form.

“LUP?!”

“Hey, babe,” Lup whispers, unfazed by the lightning bolts as she floats forward to wrap her arms around the other lich. “Thanks for the coin.”

“But — but how?” the Red Robe stammers. “How are you finally —”

Several curls of hair, made up of ghostly orange fire, escape from under Lup’s hood as she explains, and the Red Robe gently twirls a coil of flames around one of his skeletal fingers. “How are you really here?”

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Lup explains, “but it turns out that magic-absorbing staffs and beings made of pure magic aren’t actually the best combo.”

“Oh my god, we’re idiots,” the Red Robe gasps. “We’re magical undead idiots.”

“Love you too, Barry,” Lup murmurs.“God, I missed you so fucking much.”

“Wait, like Barry Bluejeans?” Magnus asks, at exactly the same time that Taako mutters: “Ugh, get a room.”

Barry whispers something to Lup that Taako doesn’t catch, and then both liches turn around.

“So, slight change of plans,” Lup announces. “It looks like the bubble isn’t quite down yet, but once we get that taken care of… anyone else up for a moonbase infiltration?”

“I’ve got one condition,” Taako immediately announces.

“What’s up?”

“If we run into the Grim Reaper, neither of you crimson lovebirds know me.”

[neerasrealm]

Into The Woods - Chapter Fifteen

Story also available on Wattpad.

Chapter One Previous Chapter

Dying

''Y'all! I'm home!'' Nina called as she stepped into her house. It had been a while since she'd actually had someone to come home to, since Chris attended boarding school during the week. Liu poked his head out of the living room and smiled at her. He stepped into the hall.

''Hey Nina.'' he greeted warmly.  

''Hey Louis,'' Nina dropped her school bag and walked over to him. ''I got y'all some stuff.'' she said, reaching into the paper bag she held in her other arm. Liu tilted his head at her as she pulled out a small box and handed it to him. He squinted. ''They're contact lenses. Ya said that you lost yer glasses. Hopefully they work for ya.''

Liu blinked in surprise. ''Oh! Yeah-! Thanks Nina.'' he smiled at her, then stepped past her. ''I'll go put 'em on. Jake's in the living room.''

''Alright.'' Nina watched him run up the stairs before walking into the living room. ''Hey cap'n.'' she greeted. Jeff looked from the tv to her. He frowned.

''...Captain?'' Jeff looked at her. His voice was rough, and a little nasally from his stuffed nose and sore throat.

''Yeah. Like a pirate,'' she pointed to one of her eyes. ''Because of yer eyepatch.'' she grinned at him. Jeff laughed gently.

''Oh.'' he smiled at her. ''How was school?'' he asked, tilting his head.

''Eh...it was fine.'' she walked over to the armchair by the window and put the paper bag in between her legs. She dug around in it and pulled out a couple things. More eyedrops, painkillers, extra bandages and...snacks. Specifically a box of snoballs. Jeff's eye widened in excitement and he sat up a bit. Nina smirked, noticing his excitement. ''Ya like these too?'' she asked. Jeff nodded. ''They're my favorite.''

''I'm more of a cup cake kinda guy- oh! Have you ever tried the mermaid ones they did?''

Nina nodded. ''Those were gooood.''

''I know right?'' Jeff smiled. ''Wish they'd bring em back...''

''They probably will,'' Nina shrugged. ''They only limit 'em so they sell more.'' she said as she opened the box. She pulled out a snoball and tossed it over to Jeff. it bounced off of him and landed on the ground beside the couch. He reached down and grabbed it, dusting off the plastic packaging.

''They do?''

''Yeah. It's a marketing tactic.'' Nina murmured as she chewed on her own snoball. Jeff frowned.

''Huh...'' he mumbled.

They sat there in silence for a bit, just eating until they were interrupted by footsteps running down the stairs. Liu leaned into the living room, grinning from ear to ear. Jeff looked at him curiously. ''The contact lenses work!'' he chirped. Jeff smiled wide.

''You can see?'' he asked excitedly.

''Yup!''

''...how do I look?''

Liu laughed. ''Just as cool as I remember you.'' he replied, shooting a finger gun at his brother. Jeff snickered.

''Nice.''

''Here, Louis.'' Nina threw a snoball across the room. Unlike his brother, Liu actually managed to catch it.

''Thanks.'' He said as he strode across the room and sat down on the arm of the couch across from where Jeff lay. ''How was school?'' he asked while chewing on the marshmallow-y snack.

''Jake already asked me that.'' Nina said with a soft laugh. She yawned and flopped against the armchair. ''It was alright...long...'' she sighed. She tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair and looked at the two brothers. She shifted where she sat. ''Y'all hungry? I can make dinner.''

''Yeah actually I'm sta-''

''Nina,'' Liu interrupted. ''I could make dinner instead.''

''Huh?'' Nina frowned. ''Ya don't gotta. Yer my guest.''

''Yeah but...you're letting us stay here. And you were at school all day. I don't mind doing some cooking,'' he smiled at her. ''Think of it as payment.''

Nina paused for a moment, then smiled. ''Alright...'' she murmured. ''There's a jar of bolognese sauce in one of the cupboards. Ya can fry up some mince and do some pasta.''

Liu gave a nod and stood up, leaving the room. He walked into the kitchen and went through the cupboards. He set down the bolognese sauce, package of pasta and box of mince meat he'd pulled from the fridge. It had been a long time since he'd cooked something- in a kitchen at least. He glanced at Nina's apron, which was hanging off the kitchen door. He walked over and took it, putting it on. He felt a little guilty taking it without asking her but- well he was wearing clean clothes for the first time in a good while and he wanted to keep them that way for as long as possible.

''Hey Nina?'' Jeff asked from his spot on the couch. Nina glanced from the TV to him.

''Huh?''

''How long did you say your mom would be gone?'' he tilted his head at her. ''You said she's on a trip, right?''

Nina looked surprised for a moment. She put her hands in her pockets and looked back at the TV. ''A couple weeks, probably.'' she murmured. ''She- goes to visit my grandma every couple months.'' she smiled at Jeff. ''She'll be back.''

''Will we have to leave when she gets back....?'' Jeff asked, frowning sadly. Nina blinked.

''Yer thinkin' of leavin' already?''

''No but-'' Jeff shrugged. ''I just thought of it earlier...that we'd have to leave.''

Nina shook her head. ''Relax, Jake, there's no point in gettin' yerself worked up over that.'' she gave him a reassuring smile. ''Focus on gettin' better first, okay?''

Jeff looked away. ''Alright...'' he murmured. Nina frowned and sat up.

''Here.'' she said, tossing him another snoball. ''I probably shouldn't be feedin' ya before dinner but- I think ya deserve it.'' Jeff laughed gently and opened the packaging.

''Thanks.''

Liu grabbed three bowls from the cupboard and laid them out. He filled them up with noodles, then poured in big helpings of bolognese and fried mince. He grated on a small bit of pepper, then grabbed a sprinkler of parmesan. He sprinkled a good amount onto his bowl, a literal ton onto Jeff's, and just a regular amount for Nina's. He took off the apron and hung it up where he'd found it, then grabbed a tray and put the bowls onto it.

"Dinner's done." He said as he walked into the living room with the tray. Jeff sat up and eyed the food. His appetite still wasn't completely back- especially after eating the two snoballs, but the spaghetti smelled good and familiar. At least he assumed it did. His nose was blocked.

"We're eatin' in 'ere?" Nina asked. Liu nodded.

"Since Jeff can't get up," he gestured to his brother. "We can't eat without him."

Nina looked at Jeff and softened. "Right. I forgot."

"You think I'm lying here for fun or something?" Jeff asked, sounding offended.

"Yeah."

Liu snickered to himself and handed a bowl to his brother. Jeff smiled wide and looked at him. "Thanks bro." He murmured. Liu gave him a soft smile and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately.

It was mostly silent as the three of them just- ate. Nina still found it amusing how quickly Liu and Jeff ate. She couldn't blame them though. As far as she could tell, they hadn't had a stable food source in a while. It was reassuring to see them actually eating.

"Hey Li- Louis?" Jeff broke the silence. Liu looked up. "Me and Nina were just talking about hair dye and uh- she offered to do mine," Jeff seemed to hesitate. "Do you think I could...?"

Liu paused for a moment. Jeff dyeing his hair could be useful. It'd reduce the chance of him getting recognized. And hey, if it made him happy, why not? "What colour?" Liu asked, tilting his head.

"My mom has a box of black dye upstairs. She's not around so...she won't mind us borrowing it." Nina winked at the two of them. Liu smiled.

"Go for it then."He said  Jeff broke into a wide, WIDE smile. He looked the happiest he'd been in weeks. Liu chuckled gently. "Wait till after dinner though, okay?"

"Okay!"

"Yer gonna hafta help me haul 'im up the stairs." Nina said. Liu smirked a bit.

"Sure."

After eating and hauling Jeff upstairs, Liu cleared up their plates and cleaned down the kitchen. He looked out the window as he dried off the trying pan he'd used earlier. This felt...nice. peaceful. A normal life, almost. His thoughts were interrupted by the muffled sound of laughter coming from upstairs. He smiled fondly and stared up at the ceiling. Jeff seemed happy here. Happier than he'd ever been at home, and Nina was unbelievably nice to the both of them. Jeff was comfortable around her, he talked to her without needing to be pushed. As Liu walked up the stairs he wondered if- maybe Nina counted as a friend. Jeff's first friend.

"So the three of them are ganging up on us right? So I run forward and hit one of 'em with a left hook!" Jeff was talking excitedly while Nina applied dye to his hair.

"Wow," she murmured. "That's awful brave of ya."

"Uh-huh!" He grinned. "I used to do wrestling, so I'm pretty good in a fight."

Liu leaned away from the bathroom door and against the wall. He frowned. Nina was Jeff's friend. His first ever friend...a friend he couldn't keep.

[lettuce-seize-the-day]

Found ch. 5

AO3 link

Summary:  Jack Kelly is a 17 year old kid who has been in the foster system for more of his life than not. By now he's given up on finding his forever family and is counting down the days until he turns 18. Four months before the deadline, Miss Medda Larkin decides she is going to adopt him.

Chapter summary: The boys and Medda have dinner together. Medda reminds each of them that she is there for them. They do not hear her. Jack and Race are not okay.

TW: self harm and eating disorder stuff

That evening, they all sat down to dinner together. “How was the first day?” Medda asked the table.

Race shrugged. “Same old, same old. Nice to see David and Katherine again, though.”

“You oughta invite them over for dinner some night soon! It’s been too long,” said Medda.

“Yeah, fuh-sure,” said Race. “Maybe lata this week?”

“Absolutely. I’d love that,” said Medda. “What about you, Jack?” she asked.

“What about me?”

“How do you like the school?”

Jack took a bite of pasta. “Same as all th’others I been ta, I s’pose. S’fine.” He was mostly focused on watching Race, and trying not to seem like he was watching Race. Race was watching him watch him. “Race ‘n I got chemistry class togedda.”

“Oh, ain’t that somethin’!” said Medda. “It’ll be nice for you two to get to spend some time together in school.”

“We’s sit togedda at lunch, too,” said Race, taking a huge bite of food and making sure Jack saw. “So’s Crutchie.”

“Yeah, it’s fun,” said Crutchie. What he didn’t say, and what no one else did, was that he wouldn’t have anyone else to sit with if Race hadn’t invited him to his table. He’d only had one friend in his grade, who he had sat with at lunch every day since he had started going to school, and she moved away over the summer. As sweet and funny as Crutchie was, he had pretty severe social anxiety, which made making friends difficult. He just didn’t know how to initiate conversations, and with his crutch, people were slow to do it for him.

“He’s thinkin’a tryin’ out for theatre,” Race said proudly. “I think he’d be great at it.”

“I dunno, it was just a thought I had,” Crutchie said shyly. “Youz all just seem so close and so happy when ya get ta perform togedda. I dunno if they’d even let me in, though, on account’a my leg.”

“Well, you boys already know how I feel about the theatre,” said Medda. That was for sure. She was the owner of an off-Broadway theater. She was a very passionate advocate of the arts, and did all she could to make that abundantly clear. “Ain’t no better place to escape trouble. And there’s something for everyone.”

“That’s exactly what Katherine said,” said Race. “I dunno when auditions are, but ya betta believe I’ll letcha know when I do.”

“Jack, do you think you’d audition?” asked Medda.

Jack took a final bite from his plate. “Nah, prolly not,” he said as he stood up. “Thanks fer dinner, Medda. It was great.” He set his plate in the sink and went down the hall back to his room.

Medda looked a bit distraught. “Somethin’ I said?” she asked Race and Crutchie.

Race shook his head. “Nah, he jus’ needs some space. He don’t wanna get involved wid anythin’ here or get too close to anyone.”

“How do you know that?” she asked him.

Race looked at her and gave a small, sad smile. “‘Cuz that’s how I was, when I got here this time last year.”

Crutchie took his dishes to the sink. He cleared his throat and gave Medda a kiss on the top of her head. “Thank you for dinner, Medda. I gotta go get some homework done.”

“Alright, hon. I’m just down the hall if you need me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said as he walked himself out of the kitchen.

For a minute, they continued eating in silence. Then, Medda said, “Race, can I ask ya somethin’?”

Race looked up from his mostly-finished plate, a bit nervous. “Sure, Medda. What’s up?”

“I was just curious, what made you… stop feeling that way? What made you feel like you belonged?”

He tried not to look too relieved. “Uh… I dunno, I’d hafta think about it.” He took a slow, painful bite, even though he already felt full. He was trying to finish his food so what happened with Jack would never happen again. “I guess when I got ta start takin’ dance classes. Ya know, doin’ what I cared about. Helped me find my place, and wanna find a place.” What he didn't tell her was that he really never stopped feeling that way, not fully, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it.

“So you think if I could help Jack find what he cares about, he might feel more welcome here?”

Race gave a shrug. “Ain’t no two fellas gonna work exactly the same way, but it sure seems worth a shot, don’t it?”

“I suppose it does,” said Medda. “I know he likes art… Maybe I could do somethin’ with that. Find him a club, or somethin’. They got any kinda art club at school?”

“Not sure. I’m sure there’s gotta be somethin, though. If anyone’ll figure it out, s’you. Ya gotta gift for helpin’ people.”

She gave him a look, then smiled as she ruffled his hair. “When did you get so smart?”

“I gotta good teacha,” he said, playfully pushing her off.

“You got that right. You finished?” she asked, gesturing to his mostly-empty plate.

“Yes I am, thank you, Medda,” he said, handing it to her. “I’m gonna go practice for dance class tomorra, alright?”

“Alright sweetie. You let me know if you need anything.”

“You got it,” he said, trying not to seem like he was rushing off. But he was. He did need to practice, that was true. But after he stood up, he was overwhelmed by how incredibly bloated and weighed down he felt from how much he had eaten. He started to panic, feeling suffocated by his own body. It was too much. It was too much. And he had to get rid of it.

____________________________________________________________

Jack did not feel good. Having people to sit with at lunch was nice, but also overwhelming. It had never happened before. Not like that. Up until now, he only ever sat with people at lunch when he was going to a school where sitting alone was against the rules and a group of do-gooders felt enough pity for him to let him sit with them. Now that he had had some time to himself, he couldn’t stop thinking about how weird he acted today. They must have pitied him, too. But he didn’t care what people thought. Except... that he did. He knew he could never make friends, but here were the kind of people he had been wishing to know for his entire life. And he didn’t know how, but he knew it was a trap. It had to be.

He was worried about Race. But what Race did or didn’t do was none of Jack’s business. He didn’t want him to cross a line he couldn’t come back from, but he also worried that he had crossed a line by asking him about it. He knew how much he hated it when people asked about his scars. At the same time, he worried that he didn’t do enough. How could one person be simultaneously too much and not enough? God, all he did was fuck up.

He needed to get out of his head. He grabbed his art supply bag and fumbled through it, looking for his special pencil sharpener which he knew was there. He pulled out the loose blade and held it in his hand. It had been awhile. But not terribly long. He hadn’t done it once since being here. This would be the first time. It was like seeing an old friend. He felt so many things at once; disappointment and disgust with himself for still doing this, relief at having something he had control over and knowing some things never change, sadness about letting Medda down, loneliness and despair because all he could do was let people down and it didn’t even matter because he’d be out of here soon enough. It was too much. It was all too much. The walls were closing in and he couldn’t breathe, there was no oxygen because the world around him was shrinking, squeezing the life out of him. He closed his eyes and did the only familiar thing. And then, he felt nothing at all. Just a sharp, familiar sting. He breathed a sigh of relief and kept going until the world came back into focus and his arm was covered in blood.

__________________________________________________________

Race sat hunched over the toilet bowl trying to catch his breath, the shower running to cover up the sound. His heart was pounding. Tears had forced their way out of his eyes. He cleared his throat, then slowly stood up on shaking legs, holding onto the counter for support. He closed the toilet lid and flushed. After taking a deep breath, he looked up into the mirror. His cheeks were red. His eyes were bloodshot. He didn’t look at the rest of his body- he couldn’t, not right now. He quickly brushed his teeth and shut the shower off. He splashed his face with cold water to bring the puffiness down.

He didn’t ever do this. He really didn’t. Only when his anxiety got the better of him. Usually, he just skipped meals here and there, and that was enough. But he didn’t like when people asked him about what he was eating. Or what he wasn’t. And he couldn’t risk Jack finding out. No one had, and he had to keep it that way. If anyone found out, he could lose dance. So he ate dinner. But it was too much. Too, too much. He had it under control and it wasn’t a big deal, but today was too much. It wouldn’t happen again. He promised himself it wouldn’t happen again, and did his best not to remember how he made that same promise to himself more often than he’d like to admit.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to focus on the positives. No one else suspected, and he’d be sure to keep Jack off his trail from now on. Besides, he wasn’t even underweight. Especially not for a dancer. There were people at his studio that he swore were just walking skeletons. He always watched them in awe and admiration, wondering how they didn’t shatter every time they landed a jump. He didn’t necessarily want to look quite like that, but he did notice that they tended to be more successful in the field.

Plus, there was Spot to think about. He knew it was naive, but he just couldn’t shake the thought that if he just had a nicer body, he would notice him.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. None of that mattered. He just needed to go practice. Everything always felt better when he was dancing. He washed his hands again, cupped some water in his hands and drank it, then looked in the mirror one last time. He looked normal, like nothing had happened at all.

[sparrowwritings]

Writing Challenge Day Twenty-three: Protocol

Day Twenty-two -- Masterpost -- Day Twenty-four

There was an order of operations to how commerce worked. It was how the merchants of the desert city of Ul’dah were able to amass all of their power, after all. Coin needed to be exchanged from one step to another, and the people who facilitated (if not owned) the steps required could reap massive rewards for their efforts. This is why someone from the outside attempting to get in on the same benefits would have a long road ahead of them. Already established merchants had a reputation they could fall back on should a venture go south. They also had the means to trip up unaware newbies through complex paperwork and legal precedent.

Of course massive hurdles like those couldn’t stop everyone from trying to make it big...

“Getchur tinkerin’ needs filled here!” A high pitched voice briefly rose above the usual din of the Ul’dah market. “You know where to go when your trinkets stop running! Right over here at Gatlin’s Goods!” A lalafell woman stood on top of a large crate as she shilled out the stall, making her round head visible above most, but not the tallest, of the crowd. Her bright pink hair was unbound, leaving corkscrew curls that fell to the middle of her back. Sharp violet eyes scanned the area and locked onto a young miqo’te man whose reddish-brown cat-like ears were twitching in time with her little speech. 

From below and slightly to her right, a lower pitched voice spoke. “Y’know you don’t really need ta be standing like that th’ whole time, right?” She briefly glanced down to see her brother giving his poutiest frown and tapping his chubby fingers on the makeshift counter in front of him. The colors of his eyes and hair were nearly identical to his sister’s, though he sported a short, fluffy hairstyle and his eyes were enlarged artificially by a pair of round spectacles. “We’ve got the spot locked for th’ week.” 

She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “We didn’t have enough left over for advertisement! So! I gotta do all th’ hard work of upsellin’ you!” With a mischievous grin, she bent down and stage whispered, “Unless ya want me ta go around town in those new inventions ya won’t sell…?” 

“No.” He folded his arms. To the average person outside of the lalafell race, his body language and glare would reflect that of a petulant child. A disadvantage to being of a race that was so small and young looking. “I ain’t sellin’ them cuz they ain’t ready. Ya still can’t stop without crashin’ into somethin’.” 

Her pointed ears drooped for just a moment before popping back up with a rush of enthusiasm. “But! Think about it! That’d be way easier to spread word about than just your shop!” She dramatically hopped to a sitting position on the top of the crate. 

Kicking her feet freely, she started doing her impression of a rich person. It was really just a deeper, more haughty sounding version of her voice. “‘Oh! This invention seems very interesting! Why I’ve never heard of such a thing! Who could possibly have created such a wonderful thing!’” In an exaggerated version of her own voice, she responded, “Oh, only my wonderful an’ amazin’ an’ talented brother of course! I’ll show you to his stall! Sadly we’re only able to rent the spot for a week--after which we’ll be wanderin’ the whole of Eorzea, seekin’ our fortune outside of Ul’dah! Oh, woe!”

He rolled his eyes nearly hard enough to knock off his spectacles. “Right, and then we’ll get a sponsor an’ not hafta worry about anythin’ ever again, right?” 

As suddenly as her dramatics had started, she had just as quickly gone back to her usual self. “It’s less fun if ya figure out th’ endin’ before I get there.”

“Ain’t anything to figure out, it’s th’ same damned endin’ there ever is ta yer daydreamin’.” 

“I dunno, I kind of liked the sound of it myself.”

The two lalafell jumped at the new voice. Clearing his throat and adjusting his spectacles to hide his rising flush, he turned to face the potential customer. “What can I do ya for, miss?”

The reddish brown miqo’te that the lalafell woman had thought was male chuckled. Her yellow eyes seemed to glow with her amusement as she lazily leaned against the crate. “Couldn’t help but overhear some interesting stuff. You repair machines right?” 

Just before he was about to correct her, his sister butted in with, “Repair and make. He’s an inventor.”

“Amature inventor.” He briefly glared before going back to his customer service smile. “I ain’t Cid Garlond or anythin’, but I like puttin’ machines t’gether.” 

The miqo’te woman’s smile widened, her sharp teeth a reminder of the predatory nature of felines. “Then you’ll be perfect. What’re your names?” 

“I’m Rennis Gatlin.” He adjusted his spectacles again.

“And I’m Bailey Gatlin!” The curly-haired lalafell waved cheerfully.

If she was at all confused about how odd the two’s names were, the miqo’te woman declined to comment. “Well Rennis and Bailey, I can guarantee you one thing.”

The siblings looked to each other, then back at her. “And that is…?” Rennis prompted.

She pointed a sharp finger towards them both. “The DeFleur Trading Co. is the right fit for you!”

They blinked in unison. “The what...?” Ren’s glasses were in danger of slipping off of his button nose.

“Wait, I’ve heard of them,” Bailey pointed back at the woman. “They’re small time, but they’ve been goin’ through some rapid growth lately.” She hopped off of the crate and landed with only a minor amount of wobbling. “If we get in with’m now, we could really grow! You could have money enough ta really make somethin’ cool!”

“Yep, that’s definitely something you could do.” The miqo’te woman gestured vaguely as she moved forward with the conversation. “I know you’ve got your stall, but the head honcho’s here in town til the end of the day. We’re buddies, so I can get you one-on-one time real fast if you just come with me right now.”

Rennis bit his lip and looked around at what was out on display in the stall. With a sigh and a dramatic eye roll of her own, Bailey went behind the counter and shoved her brother out. “Go with her. If the deal’s bad, then just say no. Can’t hurt to try, Ren!”

He clicked his tongue but otherwise let it happen. Once he was in front of the stranger, he made sure to meet her yellow eyes despite being about half her height. “C’n I get a name b’fore I go anywhere with ya?” 

“Catrene Luvere.” She gave a mock bow before she turned on her heels and called out, “C’mon, daylight’s burning.”

With a final glance at his sister, Rennis Gatlin marched his way after Catrene as quickly as his short legs could go.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Crossing Bridges - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Bucky | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

A/N: I haven’t managed to finish the whole story yet, unfortunately. So, this weekend, you’ll get some other great content, and then, on Monday, you’ll get chapter 4 of Crossing Bridges. And to make up for the delay, I’ll even write a short epilogue that’ll be posted on my AO3 sometime next week.

“Daddy,” Zach whines, standing on his tiptoes so he can press his face against the oven door, “how much longer?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Bucky says patiently, biting back a smile. “Same as when you asked me twenty seconds ago.”

Zach huffs, put out, and Bucky feels almost bad telling him, “And then they’ll hafta cool for half an hour after that.”

The sound that Zach makes in response to that is one of pure frustration. He glares at Bucky, betrayed, as if Bucky is somehow personally responsible for the baking time of cheesecake brownies, and flops down right there on the floor, sprawling out dramatically.

From his place at the breakfast bar—ostensibly working on a report, but clearly watching the brownie disaster unfold instead—Steve chuckles. “Like father, like son.”

“Screw you, pal,” Bucky snarks back. Before either Steve or Zach can call him out on it, he pulls out a dollar, and stuffs it into the already overflowing swear jar. “There. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” Steve says, deadpan.

“Daddy,” Zach kicks at Bucky’s ankles until Bucky looks down at him, “how much longer?”

(More after the break!)

Bucky’s groan is, luckily, drowned out by Steve’s laughter. “Come on, little man,” Steve coaxes as he gets up, and swings Zach up into his arms. “Why don’t we go draw a picture for uncle Tony while we wait, huh? How’s that sound?”

Zach cheers and agrees enthusiastically, immediately all smiles again. Bucky just rolls his eyes, and sticks out his tongue when Steve smirks at him over his shoulder. He is thankful, though, because it gives him the time to finish cleaning up the kitchen, and change into a new shirt. Baking with a five-year-old always comes with casualties.

Steve comes back while Bucky’s assembling sandwiches for lunch, the brownies cooling on the counter, and snags a piece of bacon. “Zach’s putting the finishing touches on Tony’s drawing. And by that I mean glitter.”

“You’re the worst,” Bucky sighs, resigning himself to vacuuming the living room. Again. “It’s your apartment, too, I don’t know why you do this to yourself.”

“It’s cute, the puppy love thing he’s got going on,” Steve says, shrugging. But then his expression turns sly, and Bucky knows whatever’s about to come out of his mouth can’t be good before Steve says, “Even cuter than your little crush.”

Bucky throws the jar of mayo at his head, confident that Steve’s going to catch it. Or heal quickly, if not. “Stop talkin’ shit.”

“No, sure,” Steve says, all casual, and sets the jar back on the bar. “No crush. Setting a picture of a friend as your phone background is completely normal. As is staring at it with a dumb, lovesick look on your face.”

“It has my kid in it, too, jackass,” Bucky snaps, pressing the top slice of bread down on the sandwich a little harder than strictly necessary. “An’ you’re the one who took it.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “To make fun of Tony for sleeping with his mouth open, yeah.”

“Whatever.” Bucky knows he’s blushing, but he can for damn sure pretend he’s not. “You’re a dick anyway.”

Zach skips into the kitchen right then, of course, covered in glitter and glue, and tells Bucky sternly, “You gotta put a dollar in the jar, daddy.”

Because he really is an ass, Steve doesn’t even try to hide his laughter. As punishment, Bucky plops Zach in his lap, messy as he is, for Steve to feed. Let someone else be sticky with condiments for once. Steve shoots him a knowing look, but dutifully cuts Zach’s sandwich into the requested triangles, and makes the appropriate noises during Zach’s retelling of his morning, even though Steve was there for most of it.

Bucky picks at his own food, absently pushing it around his plate more than actually eating it. Because the thing is, Steve isn’t wrong; Bucky is completely, embarrassingly gone on Tony. He’d noticed Tony was handsome and charming when he’d moved himself and Zach into the tower, of course, and then, later, while Tony’d worked on his arm, come to learn that Tony was incredibly kind and caring under all the distracting bluster of his public personality.

He’d acknowledged that Tony fit his type perfectly, and then immediately decided to ignore that knowledge. Bucky had only recently found back to and recovered himself, at that point, and then discovered Zach, and the fact that HYDRA had screwed him over in even more ways than he’d thought. Getting his dick wet had been pretty low on his list of priorities.

But then he’d had to go to Tony for help with Zach a couple of weeks ago, when Steve’d gone MIA. He’d been reluctant, initially, to trust someone he barely knew with Zach, but also out of other options. And then Tony had turned out to be amazing with Zach, and what’s Bucky supposed to do with that?

Zach hasn’t stopped talking about Tony since, and had thrown one hell of an epic tantrum once he’d realised that his sleepover with Tony had been supposed to be a one-time thing. So Bucky, sucker for his kid that he is, had sheepishly called Tony up to ask if Tony, maybe, would be up to spending an hour or so with Zach, just doing whatever. He’d expected Tony to agree, for Zach’s sake, but not that Tony would actually be excited about the suggestion.

He had been, though, and had taken Zach for an entire afternoon, much to Zach’s delight. After that, there’d been no stopping the inevitable. Zach had started insisting on seeing Tony every other day, Tony had proclaimed that a great idea, and Bucky’d had no reason to say no.

So, now, Tony picks Zach up early from daycare once a week to spend the afternoon ‘doing science’ with him, and then Bucky goes to pick Zach up from Tony’s place in the evening, staying over for dinner more often than not. When both Bucky and Steve are out on a HYDRA related mission that doesn’t require the other Avengers, Zach stays with Tony. And most Sundays, like today, Bucky, Zach, and sometimes Steve eventually end up in Tony’s apartment, bringing baked goods, and the mountains of drawings and crafts Zach’s made for Tony since last seeing him.

It’s not fair. Bucky never really stood a chance; Stark became Tony to him, Tony became uncle Tony to Zach, and Bucky fell. Pretty fucking hard.

“Daddy,” Zach says, and, from his tone of voice, not for the first time. Realising he finally has Bucky’s attention, he starts banging his hands on the bar. “I’m finished! Can we go see Tony now?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky says, smiling weakly. “Go wash up, then we’ll go, ‘kay?”

Only Steve’s quick reflexes save Zach from tumbling off Steve’s lap, not that Zach seems to care. He just giggles when Steve catches him by the straps of his overalls, says, “Oopsie,” and dashes away the moment his feet hit the floor.

Once he’s gone, Steve nudges Bucky’s leg with his foot. “Hey. You should tell him. This entire situation’s making you miserable.”

Bucky gets up, collects their dishes, and moves over to the dishwasher to avoid Steve’s eyes. He’s well aware that he’s being obvious, he doesn’t need Steve to point it out to him. Hell, Tony probably knows all about it, too, and is just nice enough—nicer than Steve for sure—to not rub Bucky’s face in it. “Back off, Stevie.”

Steve joins him by the sink, wearing his Disapproving Face, capital letters implied, when Bucky glances over at him. “Buck, c’mon, I’m trying to—”

“Seriously, Steve, back the fuck off,” Bucky hisses harshly, slamming a glass down on the counter.

It shatters, and they both stare at it dumbly for a long moment. Then Steve sighs, and turns away to get some paper towels while Bucky loads the unbroken dishes into the dishwasher. They clean up in tense silence after that, which is only broken when Zach runs back into the room, attaching himself to Steve’s legs.

“Are you coming, too, uncle Steve?”

“Not today, bud,” Steve says, crouching down for a hug when Zach pouts at him. “Next time, okay?”

Zach huffs. “I guess.”

“Say bye to Steve, Zach, an’ go put on your shoes, please,” Bucky instructs, putting tin foil over the brownies. “Don’t forget your drawing.”

“Bye, uncle Steve,” Zach says, and smacks a wet, loud kiss to Steve’s cheek.

He squeals when Steve peppers kisses all over his face in return, and yells triumphantly once he gets free, but returns the, “Love you,” Steve calls after him.

“You too,” Steve tells Bucky. He straightens up again so he can sling an arm around Bucky’s neck, and kisses his cheek, too. “Even when you’re being an asshole.”

Bucky elbows him in the ribs. “Swear jar.”

Steve’s known Bucky for the better part of the century, though, and can read the gesture for what it is. He hugs Bucky properly for a moment, slaps him on the ass just to be a shit, and heads out with another, “Bye, buddy!” to Zach.

Tony’s already waiting for them when they step out of the elevator into the penthouse, and immediately picks Zach up to twirl them around. Zach laughs, thrilled, and Bucky’s heart squeezes.

- Potrix | AO3

[queen-scribbles]

Balance

For @pillarspromptsweekly fill #33: Vacation

The Dracogen was humming and lively, a usual state this time of year, and Charity almost missed the sound of someone calling her name. She’d only just swung toward the sound when a familiar, grinning elf plunked down on the barstool next to hers.

“Hey, Charity,” Tavi said cheerfully, raising a hand to flag down Dengler or Peycg.

“Hello, Tavi,” Charity laughed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Visitin’ Edér,” Tavi replied, blowing on her hands. “Hylea’s feathered tits, it’s cold out there.” Dengler paused by the two of them and she flashed him a grateful smile. “I’ll have a cider, I guess. Unless you’ve added anything since my last visit?” When Dengler shook his head, she nodded decisively. “Cider, then.”

“Edér know you’re coming?” Charity asked, taking a sip of her own drink.

“Hopefully.” Tavi smiled sheepishly. “I did write, but I also walk fast, ‘specially alone, so it’s possible I got here first.”

“Well, either way, he’s in a meeting right now, so it’ll be awhile before he’s free,” Charity said with a shrug. “Cadwyn’s a chatty individual.”

“Great, then we can talk about him,” Tavi smirked, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Edér, not Cadwyn.”

My favorite topic, Charity thought glibly, but didn’t let the words past her lips. She didn’t want Tavi getting the wrong idea. Or is it the right idea at this point? She wasn’t even sure anymore herself. “I figured,” she laughed instead. “What about him?”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It took almost every ounce of willpower she possessed for Tavi to resist the urge to sigh dramatically and say something along the lines of, The fact you’re fuckin’ smitten with each other for starters. Fun as Charity’s reaction would be to watch, the probable ensuing conversation might risk blowing open the courtship charade. So Tavi hid her knowing grin by taking a drink of her cider as soon as Dengler set it in front of her and substituted, “We could make sure you know the shit you should if he’s courtin’ you.”

“I know he loves animals, I know he snores, I know which god he worships, I know he smokes whiteleaf,” Charity ticked off. “What else do you figure is important fr to know?”

“His birthday’s the first day of Early Spring,” Tavi said with an offhand shrug. “That’s prob’ly somethin’ you should know about your suitor. Oh, and don’t ask me how I know this--I’ve been sworn to secrecy--he’s really fuckin’ ticklish.” She his another grin as she watched Charity’s face shade red ever so slightly. “Not sure why or even if you need to know the second one, but just in case.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Charity took a large gulp of her drink, hoping vainly that would somehow cool her burning cheeks. “Good to know. It does feel something like cheating to have you just tell me all these things I’d have to learn from him over time if we were actually courting.”

“Aw, fuck, no,” Tavi shook her head, grinning wide. “I’d still be givin’ you all these pointers if you were really courtin’ him.” She snorted a laugh. “More, probably.”

“Mm,” was all Charity could think to reply. “Well, I feel like I’m set on pointers. Do... you have any stories?”

“‘Bout Edér?” Tavi’s grin actually got wider. “Fuck, yes. You want a funny one or a badass one?”

Charity thought for a minute, then smirked herself. “Got any that’re both?”

Tavi laughed and bumped her shoulder companionably. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

They passed the remaining time until Edér showed up telling stories--mostly about him, but a few of the more personal variety. Charity knew without looking when he did show up, because Peycg shot her a knowing smile. She was already turning when his footsteps drew near her chair.

“Meeting go alright?” she asked with a smile.

“Well as it could,” Edér confirmed, bending slightly to kiss her forehead. He turned to Tavi. “Good to see you, Tav.”

“You, too,” she replied, something glinting in her eye. 

“Next time, maybe give the letter sayin’ you’re plannin’ to visit at least a day’s head start, huh? “ he teased. “I only saw it right before my meetin’ with Cadwyn.”

“Sure. Normally I would,” Tavi said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I just needed to get the fuck out of Caed Nua for a while, and figured I’d check in with you.”

“Do I wanna know why?” Edér asked cautiously, mouth already curling in a half-smile.

“I punched a noble. In the face. Bastard shouldn’t have snuck up on me like he did.” She didn’t sound terribly apologetic. 

Edér laughed. “Didn’t cause any permanent damage, I hope.”

“Nah, just gave him a bloody nose,” Tavi said, shaking her head. “Steward hinted I needed a break, an’ you know how much I enjoy visitin’ you.”

“How long this time?” Edér nodded his thanks as Peycg passed him an ale without being asked.

“Three days?” Tavi replied, sounding more like she was confirming than telling. “Keya agreed to run things for a week, but I gotta account for travel in there, too.” She gestured at the innkeeper behind the counter. “Don’t worry, I’m stayin’ here. Long as Dengler has room?”

Dengler nodded. “Several, Watcher.”

“So you don’t hafta worry about me invitin’ myself to stay at your place.” Tavi winked and took another swig of her cider.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Edér chuckled. “You’d just be sleepin’ in the livin’ room ‘cause I don’t have an extra bedroom.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.” Tavi cracked her knuckles. “The room’s more to escape your fuckin’ snorin’, Teylecg.”

“Ah, the truth comes out,” Edér said with a laugh. “Just for that, I ain’t cookin’ for you t’night.”

Tavi shrugged. “Have you tasted Peycg’s stew? I think I’ll survie.”

“That is a valid point,” he conceded, after taking a swallow of his ale. “So, are we gonna visit here, your room, or my place?”

“Not my place?” Charity joked, immensely enjoying the two of them bantering.

“Your place is couple miles outside of town,” Edér said, squeezing her shoulder. “Normally I’m all for a brisk walk, but it’s a bit chilly for it today.”

“Your place is fine,” Tavi piped up. “Dengler, can we count this cider as me startin’ tab for my room?”

“We surely can, Watcher,” he nodded. “Which room d’you want that t’be?”

“The most basic, functional thing you’ve got,” Tavi said, finishing off her cider. “I don’t need anything fancy.”

“Noted. If y’ leave your pack here, I’ll make sure it gets to your room.”

“Sounds good.” She unslung her pack and sat it on the counter before grinning at Edér and Charity. “So. Your place, Edér?”

“Sure, why not?” Edér smiled, and it was almost second nature for them both to walk out with his arm around Charity’s shoulders.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

They passed a good few hours sitting around the fireplace in Edér’s living room, talking about whatever came to mind. Tavi couldn’t help but smirk a little whenever Charity and Edér laughed at a private joke or glanced at each other for confirmation of a detail in a story. It was sharply reminiscent of her parents with company over, or her with Aloth, and it was all she could do not to mention it. This vacation was a very good idea.

“So,” she began, trying to sound innocent but not sure how well she managed. “how’s the pretend courtship goin’? I know you felt a little... off-balance at the start, is that any better?”

Charity blushed a little, played with the end of her ponytail, but nodded. “We’ve worked through most of the awkwardness, and things we weren’t sure of and figured out a good balance.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Tavi said cheerfully, biting back a smile at the look that flashed through Edér’s eyes. She let the conversation drift in a more benign direction before making a comment about being tired and excusing herself.

Despite the rapidly approaching dusk, Charity stayed. A fact which made Tavi smirk the whole way back to the Dracogen.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She visited with Edér the other two nights of her stay as well. Her days were occupied with drifting around the village; she checked in on Eska, talked weapons with Winfrith, and made one visit out to Charity’s farm that was mostly spent playing with Sparrow. That night she started whittling a cat.

Her third day there was overcast from when she woke up, occasionally sprinkling flurries but otherwise content to look gloomy. Tavi spent most of the day in the inn, working on the cat carving. She bumped into Edér at lunch, who insisted she have dinner with him that night.

“Your sweetheart gonna be there?” Tavi teased.

“Wh- Charity?” He shrugged. “Probably. I mean, you two are friends, right? Makes sense for you two t’ get to visit again ‘fore you leave.”

“Oh, sure,” she nodded, completely straight-faced. “Only makes sense for her to be there.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I have somethin’ to give her, anyway.”

As expected, the dinner was delicious. (She was still a little huffy he’d held out on her so long that he was a fuckin’ amazing cook.) Tavi gave Charity the cat she’d carved. Sparrow had been the inspiration for it, so it seemed only fair. The three of them sat and talked for a while before Tavi decided to head back to the inn for a good night’s sleep before walking all day tomorrow. She said her goodbyes, stepped outside, and pulled the door closed.

It was snowing. Just a little, the powdery white softly covering most of the surroundings. Tavi paused for a moment, briefly entertained the idea of warning Edér and Charity, then shook her head and returned to the inn. It wasn’t snowing that hard, surely the two of them wouldn’t talk long enough for it to be a problem. And well, if they did, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. She smirked. Maybe stuck together in a house the two of them would wind up admitting things.

She could only hope.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

As happened far too frequently when visiting with Edér, Charity lost all track of time. That was partly the winter’s fault; it got dark so early right now it was all but impossible to keep track of how late it was. She did love talking to Edér, though, and some of the blame did lay with her.

So when she finally admitted “I should probably go” around a yawn, she found that she couldn’t.

“No way you’re walkin’ home in that,” Edér said decisively, looking at the seven or so inches that had accumulated while they talked. “Even makin’ it to the inn would be a hassle.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you out,” Charity started to protest, reaching for her coat.

“You wouldn’t be,” he promised, resting his hand over hers to stop her. “I don’t mind, and it would save me worryin’ about you makin’ it somewhere safe.”

“Well,..” It would be easier, that was for sure. And not going out in the cold would be nice. “Alright.” She could behave herself. And they were friends, turning him down would raise questions. “D’you have an extra blanket? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I do, but you can have the bed,” Edér said, tone firm. Clearly not planning to be swayed.

Charity still tried. “Edér-”

“No arguin’,” he chuckled, gently tugging her ponytail. “I’d be a mighty poor host if I made a guest sleep on the couch.”

“You’re not making me, I’m offering,” she countered. “You weren’t plannin’ on me being here. It doesn’t seem fair-”

“Charity,” Edér cut her off, resting a finger against her lips, a teasing glint in his eye. “You get the bed.”

Part of her was tempted to argue the point further  out of sheer stubbornness. But he was being nice. And the bed would be more comfortable. “...Fine.”

He smiled and left her unlacing her boots once more. “Lemme make sure the room is presentable.” 

“Sure...” It wasn’t until he’d walked out of sight that it fully hit her. I’m going to be sleeping in his bedroom. Maybe I should have fought harder for the couch... But done was done, and it was only for one night. No big deal. She hoped.

“Alright, all set,” Edér said as he returned. “I hope you don’t mind a little bit of mess.”

“Oh, not at all,” Charity laughed, trying to ignore her suddenly pounding heart as she teased, “A lot of mess we might have a problem, but a little is fine.”

He chuckled. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

The two of them stood in the living room, silence stretching until it was almost awkward. Charity reached up to play with the tail end of her ponytail and cleared her throat. “We should probably get to sleep. It’s late and we’ll both have things to do tomorrow...”

“Right, good point,” Edér said with a sigh, almost as if he’d been holding his breath. You can do what you need t’ get comfortable, I won’t go in ‘til you come out in the mornin’.”

“Alright,” Charity nodded as she started back toward the bedroom, pausing to rest a hand on his arm and smile in gratitude. “Thank you.”

He smiled back, almost bashfully, and kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s my pleasure. Hope you sleep well.”

“You, too,” she smiled, tugging out her hair tie as she stepped into the bedroom, hoping her tone hid how off-balance the kiss had left her. We’re not in public, he didn’t have to.... “You’re the one sleepin’ on the couch.”

She heard him laugh as she shut the door, the warmth of it sending something pleasant curling through her chest. I don’t sleeping well will be a problem.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She hadn’t counted on the bed smelling like him. Charity huffed her third sigh in as many minutes and stared toward the ceiling in irritated despair. The pillows, the blanket, all of it smelled like him and she couldn’t stop wondering if this was what it would be like to cuddle with him. Warm and safe and everywhere.

Gods, can we stop with this so I can get some damn sleep?! she begged, brushing hair out of her face. She could faintly hear Edér snoring in the living room. Good to know one of them was getting sleep. Charity hissed in agitation and dragged the extra pillow with her as she rolled on her side, wrapping one arm around it like she would a bedmate.

This was ridiculous, she thought drowsily, hugging the pillow tighter. She wasn’t some teenager with a crush, she was a grown woman.

With a crush, her mind finished (un)helpfully.

“Go away and let me sleep,” she muttered, snuggling deeper under blankets that smelled like Edér. That’s not what this is anyway.

It did, but it was still another hour before she fell asleep.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Tavi’s initial surprise and annoyance at the amount of snow that had fallen turned to almost gleeful curiosity very quickly. Sure, she’d have to start for Caed Nua in this mess, but if Chariy had been stuck at Edér’s... Well, maybe things had come into the open that needed to come into the open. She could hope.

Almost consumed with curiosity, Tavi bolted down breakfast possibly faster than she ever had in her life and headed for Edér’s house. She needed to say goodbye before she took off, after all. It would be extremely rude to do otherwise.

Edér opened the door on her second knock and hastily shushed her. “Charity’s still sleepin’. I think she had trouble fallin’ asleep, so I don’t wanna wake her ‘fore she’s ready.”

“Charity, huh?” Tavi grinned. Hylea’s fuckin’ feathered tits, yes. “Thought this was a respectable courtship, Teylecg,” she said teasingly, and shot a meaningful look toward the bedroom door.

“It is,” Edér retorted, a tad more defensive than she would expect. “I slept on the couch.”

Her grin widened. “So I woulda been sleepin’ on the fuckin’ couch, but you took it to let her have the bed?”

He actually blushed a little. “She’s a guest. You’re Tavi.”

“Nice,” she laughed. She took his meaning, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. “You gonna cook her breakfast and all that shit?”

“Probably. That’s what you do as a host.”

“Chivalrous of you,” Tavi replied innocently. “The whole thing. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. I just wanted to say goodbye ‘fore I head home.”

“You’re leaving? In this?” he frowned in concern at the sight of the snowdrifts.

Tavi shrugged. “I promised Keya. An’ this is nothin’ compared to the fuckin’ White March. I’ll be fine. Tell Charity goodbye for me when she wakes up, huh?”

Edér ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “Oh, uh, sure. Safe travels.”

“Thanks. Guess I’ll see ya whenever I visit next.” They hugged briefly, and then Tavi took her leave, heading back to Caed Nua with a smile on her face. Maybe she hadn’t gotten everything she wanted out of it, but it had balanced out. Short as it had been, she considered it a good vacation.