#i mentioned his supper stool a while back and wanted to share

[hyperionhugo]

Scooter on his supper stool

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Better Now

A Bla/ck Tap/es podcast sickfic.

I have so many wonderful prompts in my inbox but the only thing I  wanted to write was this wildly self-indulgent and overly long fic that's jam-packed with all my favorite tropes. I blame @matilda3948 for her recent amazing Dr. Strand sickfics for inspiration and @sanquintina for getting me into the podcast in the first place

This is technically Bl/ack Ta/pes fanfic, but you don't need to know anything about the series other than Dr. Strand is a persnickety, serious, stoic, skeptic with a very deep voice and troubled past. 

Set after the end of the series as it stands currently and written in 1st person from the perspective of Strand's unnamed female partner. Could be Alex if you want, could be someone else with whom Strand finally found happiness and contentment. I kept that part generic on purpose.

Richard Strand is many things, but clumsy isn't one of them. So naturally I had to go investigate when early one morning I was startled by the sound of a tea mug shattering on the floor followed by a hastily bitten-off swear word.

In the kitchen I found my husband, the world renowned Dr. Strand, kneeling on the floor mopping up spilled tea. He glanced up with a sniffle as he heard me approach.

"Had it too close to the edge. At least it missed my pants. I think I got all the ceramic bits, but be careful."

His voice was even deeper than usual, low and gravelly from the cold he'd been developing over the past few days. That, paired with his heavy, reddened eyes and generally haggard appearance, gave me concern.

"You look like you hardly slept. How are you feeling?"

"I tossed and turned a bit last night. Couldn't get comfortable."

"Couldn't breathe I think would be more accurate. You were snoring and breathing through your mouth all night."

He sat back on his heels and frowned. "Sorry if I kept you up."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm just worried about you," I added as he winced when he stood, massaging the space between his eyebrows.

He shot me another irritated glance. "I'm fine. I just have a bit of a cold." I couldn't help but notice the weary slump of his shoulders, however. Even his suit looked less crisp than usual. 

I summoned all my wifely tact and tried to make my voice persuasive: "Maybe you should stay home. You don't look like you'll be much use to anyone today."

He made an annoyed sound. "That's very unnecessary. I'm not staying home for a cold."

I looked pointedly out the window where a chilly November rain was pouring down steadily. "You really want to go out into that when you have a perfectly valid excuse not to?"

He too glanced out the window. After a moment he shook his head and cleared his throat, meeting my eyes again. "I'll be fine. It's just a little rain."

He headed toward the door, massaging his forehead once more.

"Don't you want your tea?"

"Oh, right." He whirled around quickly, grabbed the thermos, and headed toward the door again with a wet sniffle. I could only roll my eyes and sigh as the door closed behind him.

Most workdays I left after him and returned before him, and this Thursday was no exception. The rain was still pouring down when I arrived home from work that evening. I decided dinner was going to be vegetable stew and biscuits, not only for his cold, but also because I wanted some rainy November comfort food. Everything was nearly ready when I heard him coming up the steps. He opened the door, bringing with him a chilly gust, and I turned to greet him, but instead my mouth dropped open a bit at the sight of him. 

His hair and clothes were completely soaked with rain, to the point of dripping puddles onto the floor as I watched, and he was visibly shivering, something I'd never seen him do before. Inexplicably, he was also shaking the loose drops off of his soaked umbrella, his expression drawn and miserable. I was noticing how diminished he seemed when suddenly his breath hitched violently:

"HehZIHH'shiew! HrrUUHHZchoo! HehhGIHH'nkkchoo!"

I rushed to his side, relieving him of his umbrella and briefcase and pulling his sodden coat off of him as he slumped down onto the nearby stool. Beneath the coat, his suit was nearly just as wet and cold.

"Oh, Richard, bless you! You're soaked to the skin. Ugh, and your hands are freezing. How did you manage to get so drenched?"

"A w-woman and her ch-children were w-waiting for the b-bus without c-coats. I held my umbrella f-for them until it c-came," he said, his teeth chattering and his lips blue with cold. 

I toweled off his hair and clothes as best as I could before helping him undress. Any other day he would have brushed me off, saying he was perfectly capable of doing that himself. The fact that he allowed me to assist him spoke volumes to how poorly he felt. 

I was behind him, trying to peel off his sodden linen shirt when he lurched forward for another volley of sneezes:

"HrrUUSCHH! HnnxXT! HHGGTchh!"

"Bless you again, poor love. You've made your cold worse going out in this," I gently chastised.

"I'm f-fine," he sniffled, still barely able to speak around his shivering. Yet he leaned back against me wearily as I removed his undershirt and replaced it with a blanket, and I thought I heard the softest hint of a groan.

I used my fingers to comb his disheveled hair, but frowned when I felt his forehead. "You're running a fever. You weren't feverish this morning."

He merely shrugged, wordlessly asking me to continue massaging his scalp, which I did. Slowly his shivers subsided, but he was clearly exhausted, and sniffled wetly every few moments. 

"You look like you could use a hot drink and a warm bed," I said eventually.

"I'd start with a hot shower," came the mumbled reply.

"Hmm… what about a hot bath? I was thinking of taking one myself tonight, and I'm willing to share. No reason to waste the hot water. Dinner will keep for a bit longer."

He turned slightly, giving me a curious look. It wasn't that we had never bathed together before, but it was usually under very different circumstances. However, I happened to know my husband craved physical touch when he wasn't feeling well, though he would never ask for it. I was simply making life easier on both of us by preemptively offering it. 

"I suppose that might be nice," he finally said. "But I'm very tired…."

I kissed his cheek. "No strings attached. Bath only. Then dinner and sleep. No funny business, I promise."

He relaxed slightly. "That's fine then."

"Good. Let me go run the water." I kissed his hair once more, then headed to the bathroom. He joined me there with a cup of tea after a few minutes. While the oversized tub finished filling, he leaned in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck and looking distant and hazy, not to mention sick.

I shimmied off my clothes and slid into the water, gesturing for him to join me. He sluggishly obeyed, hampered in finishing his own undressing by his dripping nose. He set his mug of tea and a handkerchief on the little table beside the tub, then slid into the water in front of me.

His sigh of ecstasy as the hot water surrounded him was exactly what I hoped to hear, and he leaned back against me readily with a satisfied groan.

"Better?" I murmured in his ear.

"Much," came the rumbling reply, followed of course by a sniffle. 

I pressed my lips into his hair again and again. He hardly moved as the heat soaked into him. I let my nails trail all over his skin and gave him a gentle massage, trying to help him relax, a feat he was rarely able to accomplish on his own

"Would you like me to wash your hair?" I murmured after a while.

He gave the barest nod in reply. Wordlessly I did just that, something else he would never consider allowing in any other circumstance.

I kept the soap far from his face, but the fragrance still had its way with him. I had nearly all the suds rinsed out when he suddenly jerked forward and leaned over the edge of the tub.

GihhIIISSHH'UH! Hhigg'CHUH! HihYEHSH'ooo!" He directed the spray as far away from me as he could, grabbing for the handkerchief to catch as much of the mess as possible. He mopped his face with a growl as he slid back into the water, but the spell was broken. He fidgeted against me, sniffling in irritation again and again as I finished rinsing his hair. 

I suppressed a disappointed sigh. "You might feel better if you went and laid down now that you're warmed up. Get yourself a bowl of soup while I finish up here."

He grunted his assent, lifting himself out of the water and quickly toweling off as he began to shiver again right away. He donned his robe, took his tea, and went to get his supper.

The evening came to a quick close after that. Richard ate a small portion of soup, drank two mugs of tea, and refused any medication, but did little else. He wouldn't be described as loquacious on his best day, but he spoke even less than usual. The only noise he made was the occasional soft cough or explosive trio of sneezes and his perpetual sniffles as he attempted his usual evening reading. His eyes never lost their weary, hazy look though, and he was constantly shaking his head or wiping a knuckle under his nose, so I wondered how much he was actually absorbing.

When I suggested we go to bed, he didn't argue though, which was very unlike him. He fell into bed wearily, and it seemed he was asleep even before his head hit the pillow. I silently wished to myself as I drifted to sleep that he would either be recovered in the morning, or else have the sense to stay home if he was worse.

~~~~~~~~~~

Richard's alarm went off at the usual hour the next morning, and he shut it off right away. Normally he was out of bed in moments, but today he lingered, pulling the blankets closer around himself with a little groan.

I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he continued to shift restlessly. After a moment, I heard him take a wheezy inhale and then break into a coughing fit, wet and hoarse. I turned to look at him again. He was on his back now, with an arm flung over his eyes.

"Aww, love," I murmured. "You ok?"

"I'm not feeling quite like myself," came the mumbled reply.

I reached out to stroke his cheek, letting my hand rest on his neck where I could feel his hugely swollen lymph nodes. He was well and truly sick now, and he needed to stay home from work. However, I couldn't be the one to suggest that, or else he would turn me down immediately and insist he was fine, as he had the day before. It needed to be his idea. I went with a different approach.

I nestled close to his side, kissing his shoulder softly. I could tell he was still feverish even through his clothes. "Busy day today?" I murmured.

He grunted wearily. I couldn't tell if it was affirmative or negative.

"I packed a big bowl of soup for your lunch. I hope it's enough to keep you full through the whole day. And don't forget, I'll meet you at your coworker's reception tonight. Was there anything I needed to bring to that?"

He slowly uncovered his face. "I was… actually considering staying home from work. It shouldn't be busy today, I can afford to miss. And… I'm really not feeling well at all. I'll make our excuses to John about his reception. 

I did a silent victory dance in my head. "Oh, are you sure? I thought you had some important meetings."

"Nothing that can't be rescheduled." He cracked a red eye open, glancing at me suspiciously. "Why? Do you want me to go in?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, kissing him again. "I want you to do what you think is best. If you're not feeling well, you ought to stay home so you don't risk getting other people sick though."

"I suppose." He coughed hoarsely again, rubbing his chest with a grimace. "Yes, I'll stay home today. Let me call Carol and John."

He slowly stood and made his unsteady way to his phone, sniffling and coughing the whole way. The two phone conversations were very brief, for he hardly had to try to make a case for his illness, congested and hoarse as he clearly was. After he finished the calls, he shuffled back to bed immediately, heaping the blankets back over himself with a shuddering cough. I rubbed his back as he got settled.

"Can I get you anything, hon? Water, medicine?"

He shook his head. "Going to try to sleep this off," he mumbled, sleep already (or still?) heavy in his voice.

I knew medicine would almost certainly help his endeavors at sleeping. At minimum it would improve the quality of his sleep. However, I also knew he was stubborn about such things, so I didn't press the issue yet. "Alright." I kissed his hot cheek gently. "Then I'll leave you be for now. Let me know if you need anything. Sleep well."

I made the bed around him, straightening my side and tucking him in, then quietly left. The sound of his deep snores followed me out. So much for me sleeping in today.

He emerged again later that morning. I didn't notice him at first when he did, though. I had my headphones in and was dancing around while dusting. Turning around, I almost bumped into him, scaring us both. I yanked my headphones off right away, taking in his disheveled, sickly, blanket-wrapped appearance.

"You're awake! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come out."

"Clearly," he rasped with the tiniest ghost of a smile. "You stayed home too?"

"It's my normal Friday off."

"Right, right," he sniffled. He then shuffled to the couch, collapsing onto it with a yawn. I went to sit beside him, unable to keep the concern from my face. I felt his forehead again, noting how he wearily leaned into the touch. I was forced to jump back though as he erupted into a volley of thick, chesty coughs. 

I sighed, surveying him with worry. "You're running quite the fever, love. And the cold has obviously settled into your chest now too."

He nodded limply with another sniffle.

"I'm not taking no for an answer this time, I'm giving you medicine and you're going to take it."

He managed to fix me with a condescending look. "Medication for a cold is essentially pointless. It just treats the symptoms."

"You think making yourself more comfortable is pointless?"

He opened his mouth to answer, or so I thought, but instead he lurched forward into a trio of wet, spraying sneezes:

"Heh'YEISSHH'oo! YEEIISH'uuh! Gih'HIH-shoo! --ugh…" The forceful snapping motion of his head when he sneezed looked incredibly painful, so much so that he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead with a groan in the aftermath.

"Bless you, hon!" I waited a beat as he composed himself. "So… what was it again you were saying about the futility of treating the symptoms?" I asked, admittedly snidely.

He only grunted softly. I couldn't keep the smug look from my face when he met my eyes once more. However, seeing how thoroughly miserable he was reawakened my sympathy immediately. I reached out to caress his hair and cheek yet again.

"How about I make you some tea, yeah? And maybe a bowl of soup?"

"Please," he mumbled.

"Coming right up."

Another round of his thick, exhausting coughs followed me into the kitchen, and I couldn't help but wince in sympathy, even though he couldn't see me.

In a matter of minutes I had his meal ready. When I brought it back out to him, I placed the soup on the table and dropped a handful of pills and a capful of medication beside the bowl with a meaningful look. His only reply was a small frown. I resumed my seat beside him and was about to hand him the steaming mug when an idea occurred to me.

"Is your throat hurting badly?"

He nodded heavily with a little scowl, as if he hated being reminded of it.

"Here, this may help a bit." I raised the mug to the level of his neck, pressing it against his visibly enlarged lymph node.

His eyes widened and he half-jumped back from the initial sensation. 

"Trust me for a sec," I said gently, placing it against the swelling once more.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but allowed it. After a moment though he visibly loosened. Making a sound between a whimper and a groan, he leaned harder against the heat. 

"Better?"

"Mhmmmm," he sighed.

After another moment I switched to the other side of his neck and repeated the process. He angled himself here and there to get the most heat coverage over the tender areas. Finally I slid the mug into his hands, kissing his forehead.

"Thank you," he breathed. "That was… relieving."

"You're very welcome. Now, can I do anything else for you at the moment?" 

"I'm fine. You don't need to fuss."

"I may not have to, but I want to, first because you're my husband and second because I know you're not 'fine.' But if you're going to insist you are, I'm going to go fold some laundry. Holler if you need anything. Or cough loudly if that's easier."

That earned me a Dr. Strand signature, the 'amused huff.' "I will. Thank you again."

"No thanks necessary." He received another kiss to the temple before I stood and headed to the laundry room with a last pointed look at the medicine. It occurred to me as I walked away that I was likely giving him an overabundance of kisses considering how contagious he clearly was, but he was just so darn pitiful.

Twenty minutes later, I returned to check on him, bringing a glass of water as well. The tea mug and soup bowl sat empty on the coffee table, surrounded by a few scattered tissues. The medicine was untouched. The doctor was huddled to one side of the couch with another tissue held loosely in his hand and one pajama-clad leg tucked under him, staring listlessly at the wall. However, at the sound of my footsteps he stirred with a sickly sniffle, scrubbing a hand over his face wearily. I smiled in greeting, and though he didn't return the smile, he did brighten a bit upon seeing me.

"What were you contemplating so deeply just now? You looked very lost in thought," I asked, handing him the water, then tidying up his little mess on the coffee table, leaving the pills.

He huffed a humorless laugh, looking self-conscious as he fiddled with the glass. "I was actually imagining how extensive the trial and error process must have been to determine how best to brew tea versus brewing coffee versus, for example, brewing beer. Roasting the ingredients versus drying versus fresh versus ground and boiling versus steeping versus fermenting. The amount of time that must have been necessary to perfect something so simple is rather astounding," he rasped, with many sniffles and throat-clearings thrown in.

I raised an eyebrow at him curiously. Aimless ramblings about random topics were not the norm for my painfully disciplined husband. "It is astounding I guess. I'd never thought about that before. Anyway, how are you feeling after eating?" 

"I'm fine," he said, finally setting down the untouched water, though the nasty cough that immediately followed his statement contradicted him.

This time I audibly sighed. "You do realize that you saying you're fine all the time is very counterproductive to helping me assess your needs? You don't have to be fine, love."

He gave me an odd look. "Conceptually, I know that. But you have to remember, for a long time I *did* have to be 'fine.' I didn't have the option to be otherwise. You, all of this… still feels like a new development or a dream at times. Old habits die hard, I suppose."

I sat on the arm of the couch beside him. He wordlessly leaned in toward me so I could lightly run my fingernails over his scalp. He softly groaned in pleasure.

"I'm not going to waste my breath telling you that I'm not going anywhere and I'm here for you, because you already know that. So I suppose I'll just have to keep showing you." 

I went to press a kiss to his head, but I caught a glimpse of his face and changed my mind when I saw he was about to sneeze.

"Gihh'chuuh! Hehh'choof! Ghnxt'choo!"

The sneezes were brisk and wet and left him breathless. He blew his nose with a wince before he spoke. "Sorry, could you repeat that? I missed most of it," he said, sounding stuffy and a little peeved.

I chuckled and complied, going for the kiss this time. He had no reply, but instead leaned against me wearily as I massaged his neck, yawning deeply. 

"You should rest again, love. Take a nap if you can. It's either that or watch TV, which you'll never do. I'm not sure you should attempt much else."

He wrinkled his nose. "I hate being so unproductive. I don't want to sleep the day away."

"Sleeping when you're sick isn't being unproductive, it's being wise."

"HehhGIH'choo! HEHHH-choo! Hihhh'YESSHH'uuhh!"

I was quite sure he didn't hear most of my statement, since he sneezed right in the middle of it. With a pitiful sound he tended to his nose yet again as I blessed him earnestly. Eventually his watery, heavy lidded eyes met mine. I couldn't help but notice yet again how flushed and disheveled he was and how utterly pathetic he looked, quite the opposite of his usual cool, collected self. 

"Guh. Sorry. What was that?" he asked with a pathetic sniffle, sounding very annoyed now.

"Aww, your nose. You really are sick, huh? Poor guy," I said, continuing to stroke his hair. 

He looked slightly offended. "You were having doubts about that?" 

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "It's just something you say, dear. 

"I'm aware of the colloquialism," he grumped. "But I find it a very odd one. And it's never been directed at me before."

"There's a first time for everything, then."

I was rubbing his back now. He yawned again, grimacing after, I assumed due to the sore throat. I also noticed he was starting to shiver.

"Ok, now seriously, tell me what I need to do to convince you to nap."

"I'm not sure," he said with a chesty cough, nestling deeper into the couch.

"Hmm. I accept that challenge." 

"And what challenge is that?"

"You won't tell me what I can do to help you, and perhaps you don't even know yourself, so I have to figure that out for both of us."

"I don't think there's anything I need though."

"You need to sleep."

He rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff, but I could tell he knew I was right.

I stood and went to put some smooth jazz on the record player in the room. Sitting down again, this time on the couch on the other side of him, I gestured to my lap.

"Come lie down."

"Wait-- lie down… right there?"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"Because you love hair scratches and neck rubs, so I'm making it easier to give them to you. Also you're apparently freezing and need to share some body heat."

He frowned, suppressing his shivers as best he could. Still, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist for long, tired and miserable as he was. Sure enough, after a moment he slowly levered himself down with a resigned sigh. 

I quickly threw a blanket over him, and then began the hair scratches. He made a tiny, appreciative sound. 

"Better?"

"Mm," he grunted.

"Good. But you're sweating, love," I murmured.

"I'm not sure how since I'm freezing," he mumbled with a cough.

"Your fever is higher. I can feel it just by touching you."

He groaned, snuggling deeper against me.

I massaged his neck for a while longer, trying to ease the tension from his muscles. He continued to be restless though, and apparently unable to regulate his body temperature. One moment he would be shaking with chills pulling the blanket closer, and then the next kicking it away from his legs with a moan of discomfort. 

The final straw for me was when he was overcome with yet another hacking coughing fit, curling in on himself miserably, trying to muffle it into his arm, the other hand clutching his chest.

Before he settled again, I leaned forward to grab the untouched pile of medication and glass of water from the coffee table. When he was again lying against me, I wordlessly held it out to him. He of course made a sound of irritation.

"Why are you being so stubborn? You need to sleep, and you can't sleep in the state you're in, at least not well. This will help your headache, fever, sore throat, everything so you can rest. I can tell you're exhausted."

After a final moment of consideration, he held out a reluctant hand. I handed him the items and he swallowed them without comment.

Neither of us spoke again for a long time, and didn't move from our places. I soothingly stroked his hair or rubbed his back, putting myself in a trance almost as much as him. 

I could see the medication talking effect. His restlessness slowly eased along with his coughing. It seemed I could even feel his body temperature decreasing.

"Hnnkkt'CHUH! Hehgg'CHUHH! EHHG'choo!"

Just as I thought he was asleep, his body twitched with a trio of sneezes, the quality of which could only be described as lazy--slow, thick, and dulled. They hardly seemed to stir him from his stupor.

"Bless you. Are you ok?"

" 'm fine," he croaked tiredly. We were both quiet for a while, then he spoke up again. "You know, one of the reasons I keep saying I'm fine is because I can't begin to describe what an improvement it is to be with you while being sick compared to being sick in bed alone. The difference is as drastic as night and day--better doesn't begin to describe it. Asking for anything more than what I already have just by your being here feels selfish."

Richard would never express such sentiments under normal circumstances, and hearing it said so plainly overwhelmed me with emotion. Yet I knew he wouldn't want me to reply in kind. He would prefer to state his piece and let it be. And indeed, I saw his eyes drooping heavier by the second, so I kept my thoughts to myself for now, but leaned over to plant a series of kisses all over his hot face. 

He hardly moved and didn't respond even when I finally stopped, but I couldn't help but notice the tiny smile playing around his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

[bunny-bts]

Summary: Truth can be harder to bring in than the cattle and spirits can be harder to raise

Warnings: language, angst, mushiness, toxic relationships, mentions of religion, cattle/ranch life, love, drama, alcohol consumption

Authors Note: This one is specifically for me and a friend, I have no idea how many words as always and I'll try to make this a one shot not a series because I just abandon those but if it gets too long I may have to make it a series

Rating: M, no smut but suggestive and mature topics

Characters: Namjoon x reader, Taeyhung x reader's friend

"Morning, Y/N," Namjoon smiles as he enters your kitchen. "Morning Joonie, what are you doing here?"

"oh...uh....your dad sent me over to make a delivery...."

"oh, okay. Come on, sit down and eat," you gesture to the seat across from you at the table and wipe your mouth with the cloth napkin before sitting it beside your plate which was piled over with cheesy grits, sausage, scrambled eggs and some leftover roasted potatoes from supper. You slide your chair out to stand and he comes over to sit as you walk to go grab him a plate. "We had some garlic roasted potatoes last night, want some? The garden out back worked nice for the garlic and the potatoes in the crops came out nice this year so dad brought some home and I made it"

"Yeah, sure. Thankyou.....so the crops are good?"

"Oh yeah, and Mary Lou just had a calf last night and dad says I can keep this one"

"oh yeah? You happy?"

"Totally, you know I try not to get too overly attached usually...."

"Yeah, I know, and I know you've wanted to keep one since you were little," he smiles over at you. You can't help but giggle and jump in place, "I know~," you clap your hands. "You do know you have two horses right?" He laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck, sitting his hat in his lap. "Yes, I love them Cortney and Karen. Shush, let me be happy," you playfully scold him as you continue making his breakfast. "Okay, how're they doing?"

"They're great and Karen has a show soon so I'm getting her mane done and some new shoes-oh! Want to come boot shopping with me? I want to get a new pair so they're shiny, I've been working in mine and they're muddy and I want some more jeans with the studded embroidered pocket designs"

"Shopping?" He makes a face that's a mix of disgust and uncertainty. "Please, it's for Karen's show and my friend is coming to visit"

"Since when do you have friends other than me and Tae?"

"Since about six months ago and haha cute, I'm feeding you," you bring the plate to him and then pour him some juice before sitting back down to eat.

"Maybe, I'm pretty busy but when do you want to go?" "Well, her show is next week and Jeff is coming then too so maybe....Sunday, after church?"

"Yeah, that works, we can go after we leave and get food....Jeff," he did not like the idea of it being a guy. You had all too recently ended a really bad relationship. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Who was he kidding, he didn't like the idea of anyone with you that wasn't him, but, he wanted to protect you after your last boyfriend. "I know what you're thinking, and yes. Jeff needs this"

"Alright then, this is good, just orange juice?" "Yeah, I need to run to the store after work. Want to come with?" "Can't, delivery." "A long one huh, well do you need anything? I can shop for you and take it over"

"Uh no no yes, yes, I need everything, all of it, groceries," he laughs, "do you know where the spare key to the house is?" "My bra, you gave me one last year when you went to Florida, remember?" "Oh yeah, alright," he had already finished, "can I meet the new addition before I start the day?" "Sure!" You were already running out of the door. "Wait, we gotta do the dish-" "I'll do it when I get back!! Come-on!" You grab his hand a pull him.

"This is Mochi," you introduce him. "She's cute," he smiles and pets her and her mother, "alright," he stands back up and stretches. "Hi Karen, hi Courtney," he waves to your jet black Friesian horse with the gorgeous wavy mane, the ever graceful and snooty Karen and the tan Mustang with black from the hooves to the knees like long socks and dark black hair that have a red highlight at the tips in the sun, the ever goofy and stubborn Courtney in the stalls nearby in the barn. "Well, sun is getting up so I should get going. Where are they?" "Uhm, oh! These," you guide him to the cattle he was here to get and he starts loading them up while you wash the dishes from breakfast and put the leftovers away.

"Bye," you wave to each other as you're both heading out for the day. You were already excited for Sunday.

"Morning," Taeyhung scrolls up, he worked with you. "Hey Tae, oh, we decided, she's coming next week on Thursday"

"Awesome, you've been excited. Jeffree right? I have a room ready for her at my place, can't have her stay at a hotel" "Cool, great, thanks you're a sweetheart, I'll tell her"

The next few days passed as always, only now you were excited because you had Karen's show so you got to prepare for that, got her groomed and everything and you were making arrangements for your guest, Jeff, your friend online you met through a mutual liking of a band. As always, days were tiring but Taeyhung made them interesting. The three of you, you two and Namjoon and had been together for as long as you can remember since Taeyhung moved to town when he was six and you all went to the same church. He was a good guy, they both were.

"Night Lil, see you in the morning," he waves goodbye and slips his gloves off as he walks to his truck to go home for the night. The two of you felt like siblings after spending pretty much every day together, you worked most days of the week together then on Sunday there was church where ofcourse the 'golden trio' as the church elders had coined you, all chose to share a pew, and snacks and memes; and after work you would sometimes drink together. You all had other friends from church too, but they weren't as close as the three of you were. You had no idea that Namjoon didn't feel like you were a sibling, maybe he used to, but not for the longest time now. It was Saturday, which meant, going out with them for a drink and something to eat. Taeyhung had insisted he was tired and would see you at church in the morning so you go home, well to the house. You wash up and change into clean comfortable jeans and a clean t-shirt then head out to the bar. You were starving after a days work to say the least, breakfast had worn off forever ago.

"Y/N!" He waves and gestures you over and you skip, for lack of better verb, over to the stool next to him. "Hi Y/N, what will it be?" The server asks, you order your drink first and a appetizer to share with him. That usually was more than enough to fill you both up. "Okay....since the other day....I've been thinking....," He speaks, his hands fiddling with his glass beer mug. "Thinking about what?" You ask curiously and sip yours. ".....Maybe it isn't my place .....but uh....about this Jeff.....I do-"

"it will be fine, relax," you grab his shoulder. "A-Alright.....how was your week?" "It was good, Tae Tae said he was tired so he went home...."

He nods, "that's weird...."

"I know right!? How was your week love?" You were too busy enjoying your drink to look up and notice him change color at the term of endearment. "Oh, I missed you...you guys, I missed you guys," he smiles, those dimples that melt your heart when he has a bashful moment appearing on his cheeks. "Aww, we missed you too. I think Tae is excited about Jeff coming, he has a room ready and everything. Oh, you remember we are going shopping tommorow after work right?" "Yeah, I remember, oh he's happy ab-Jeff is staying with Tae! That's great!" "Joonie ......honey, are you alright?" You ask, raising a brow at him. "Oh...oh yeah, it's just-hotels would be expensive," he covers and is thankful you nod in agreement. It's silent for a bit while you wait on your food, he taps his fingers on his glass and looks straight ahead mostly except for when he steals quick glances at you. His insides were shaking like the leafs on a tree and his foot was tapping like Thumper against the bar on the bottom of the stool as he hears a song come on that he knows is one of your favorite. Letting his eyes scan the room he sees a few drunken couples dancing like complete idiots. "Hey, it's your song......we should dance?"

"You're joking, right? Joonie, seriously"

"no, really," he laughs

"Alright, what the hay?" You shrug and down your drink so you won't care and could actually go through with it.

He chuckles and holds you steady, "feeling brave now?" "Mhm, oh yeah," you nod and giggle.

That Sunday is was a bit of a struggle waking up after the night you had before, Namjoon was sure that you are plenty and drank water but that wasn't enough for him so he drove you home and called Tae to come and get him so he could drive his truck home; he wanted to tuck you in. The shopping after service was fun, Tae even came, he wanted to get a new shirt and some new jeans which he got several of and wanted your opinion on all of them then he proceeded to also get new pointed toe boots. The week seemed to drag for you both as you both got closer to Thursday but it was finally here.

"Tae wake up," you smack him because he stayed over and was going to ride with you to get her. "Hmm?" He sits up slowly and wipes his eyes. "It's Thursday, she texted she's at the airport" "Oh, yeah"

You pick her up together and bring her back to Tae's place and show her around. She seems nervous at first and quiet, shy. "Relax," you laugh as you give her a tour and help her unpack while you wait on Namjoon to come. Tae had seen her pictures online because you had shown him but it was his first time meeting her as well.

"Y/N," he called out for you from the kitchen. "Just a sec, Jeff," you go out to him as he's drying his hands from washing dishes. "Can you introduce us?" "Yeah, sure? Come on," you pull him by his arm.

"Jeff," she turns to you as she is putting her things away on the floor. "Taeyhung is shy, He wants me to introduce you guys."

"Oh, hi," she smiles and you instantly notice his reaction and it all clicks in your head, making you try and hide a smirk. "This is Tae Tea and Tae this is Jeffrene, Jeff"

"H-Hi," he smiles and they shake hands, "Taeyhung," he says, she notices how deep his voice actually is and paired with the shyness has to laugh. You share a look about how adorable it is.

"Hello?" Namjoon calls from the front door. You introduce everyone.

"Jeff is a girl," Namjoon is shocked, you just wanted to see his reaction to thinking it was a guy. Funny, as you suspected.

"There's nothing to do today as far as work...," Tae speaks, directed to you. "Okay? Cool, what should we do?" You ask them. He pulls you off to the side, "c-can I take her to get some boots?" "Some boots?" You cross your arms. "Y-Yeah....," He tucks his hands in his pockets, "I want to show her around...."

You take his body language into account and conceal from him that you see he is crushing on your friend. "oh yeah, that's a good idea, you can take her to meet the girls" "Thanks," he tries to hide how overly excited he is, "h-how do I ask her?" "Okay, it's really complicated," you put a hand on his shoulder, "here is what you do"

"Yeah?"

"You go to her and you," you pause

"Yeah?" You could tell he was falling for your trick. Sweet gullible little Taeyhung, you loved him so much.

"and you say ....do you want to come with me to buy some boots? I want to show you the animals on the farm"

He gives you a squinting glare, "you're an asshole," he says while you're laughing and Namjoon is listening in and kindly restricting himself. You both watch your friend approach his first crush.

"Hi....," He smiles and greets her again, with a awkward little wave, one hand tucked into his back pocket. "Hi"

"Do you want...to come with me...to uhm....to buy you some boots and I can uh....show uh....show you the animals?" You face palm for him.

"That's sweet, sure, that sounds nice," she was happy to go along and as excited as he was, she loved animals.

----you and Namjoon at Tae's house-------

"That's cute, it's good that Tae is finally going for it with someone. I was starting to worry that he's never crushed on anyone before," Namjoon chuckles.

"For real though! I'm so proud but our little boy is growing up, now I'm sad," you stomp and come over to him, hugging his torso to lay your forehead on his chest like a melodramatic distraught wife who was experiencing empty nest syndrome. The action was nothing out of the ordinary. He laughs and pats your hair, "it's okay, we can have s'mores, how about that?" "Oo~ I feel better," the two of you grab the graham crackers and marshmallows but Tae didn't have the sticks or the chocolate so you run to the store for them and come back. Namjoon starts the bonfire then you two get cozy and start eating the s'mores without the other two in Tae's pasture.

"Naa~," Your melted chocolate and marshmallow delight cracker sandwhich is taken away from you. "Hey!"

"Hey! Bad Cleo! Bad Cleopatra! You can't take your aunt's s'mores!" Namjoon scolds the pony. "Now, tell her you're sorry young man," he throws his hands on his hips in a sassy manner which makes you almost fall over laughing. The pony rubs his head against you as a apology. "It's okay baby, I forgive my favorite nephew," you pet his nose and kiss it and he trots away to go to his mother. Namjoon laughs and sits back beside you, looking at them. "Mable is getting old......," you both knew what he meant by that. "Yeah...., I know." "Think Tae will be okay....?" "Let's hope so....."

---Taeyhung and Jeff-----

"What size do you wear?" Tae asks, he insisted on opening his truck door for her, and the store's door. He bought her a pair of boots and gloves before taking her out to your place. "I'll show you Y/N's first, then mine"

"This is Mary Lou and her new calf, she hasn't named her yet," he watches her happily pet them then takes her to your horses, "this is Cortney and Karen," after you've gotten to know them all he shows you all around before taking you home.

"I have horses too, well I have a horse and a pony," he takes you out back.

"Oh, they started without us, I won't let you miss the s'mores," he promises. "Cleo! Mable!" Cleo comes to them and she happily plays with him for a moment before Mable finally gets there and she pets the old horse.

-----

The night is spent enjoying s'mores and getting to know each other by the fire.

Authors Note: This may have a chapter two

[ladyideal]

Our Love 2/3

Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader

Word Count: 3359

Warning: Whoo boy. Cursing, fighting, alcohol, slight fluff at the end, mention of character death, mostly angst and couples arguing

Summary: Two years since you met Leonard at the cafe, and you were together. Now working together on the Enterprise, you were happy. He was CMO, and you were First Officer on board. Concerned over Leonard’s health, you forced him to take a few days break, only to have it backfire in your face. 

A/N: Each part can stand on its own, if you don’t feel like reading it as a series. This is the second part where I chose “The Good Stuff” By Kenny Chesney which I love. Hope y’all enjoy, and you too @cuddlememerrick. ~ Italicized are the lyrics!

Part 1 is here. Part 3 is here.

That was two years ago when you first met Leonard McCoy at the cafe.

Since then, Starfleet had called you back to serve on a ship. With tears, you hugged your mom and the rest of your friends, and bid them a good bye with the promise of calling when you can. Your dad died serving aboard the USS Valiant when you were five. For you though, this was a family tradition. Every generation had served in Starfleet, and you were the fifth. 

Tearfully, you had told Leonard the news. Only to hear that he too was going into space. With luck, maybe you two could serve on the same ship one day. It was easier knowing he was in space, that there was a chance you get to meet him. However, it was a double edged sword, as anytime you could lose your boyfriend to the dangers of what space was known for.

Surprise, surprise though. 

You surprisingly met Leonard on the Enterprise. You explained that Starfleet sent a message saying that you were going to serve as First Officer. Almost immediately, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, and introduced you to his best friend and Captain James Kirk.It wasn’t long before you made friends with him too. 

Now two years later, you had everything you could ever want. Friends, a loving boyfriend, and working on the best place you could ever be.

“Dozed off there, Commander?” Jim grinned from behind you. 

Chekov had taken a sick day off. After some bribing from him, you agreed to take his shift. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the same thing to you too, Jim,” You frowned down at the notes from the previous ensign at your console. “You drool most of the time.”

“You wound me,” The Captain gasped in mock disbelief, putting a hand over his heart. 

You snorted loudly. “If only that can wound you, then a killing blow must be the actual truth. Isn’t that right, Len?”

“What’s this about the truth?” The doctor asked, looking between you and his best friend as he entered from the turbolift, before settling a scowl at Jim. 

“Bones!” Jim hastily turned to his doctor. “Your girlfriend has been spreading rumors about me.”

“Our Jimmy boy over there disagrees that drools when he naps.” You cut in, ignoring the spluttering from Jim. “What do you say?”

“Infants,” Leonard scowled. “What do you want, Jim? I’m busy.”

Two years brought you more happiness than you’ve ever imagined. He was CMO, and you were the First Officer. Both you and him held busy lives, but you’ve always made sure to find time and try to be with him. After the first year, you moved in with him. 

As a couple, you’ve had your fair share of arguments with him. How you were the one doing the laundry, how the way he cleaned his dishes, how this and that, but nothing big. You were fully grown adults, and you and him did your best to try to reconcile in the middle. Win some, lose some.

Till now. 

“Sweetheart,” Leonard frowned down at his PADD. “Why did Jim put me on a two day leave?”

You tilted your PADD downwards to watch him angrily toss his onto the nightstand. “Yeah, you have a bad habit of overworking yourself, love.”

“You went behind my back, Y/N!”

You put your PADD down entirely, having a bad feeling that was going to go south really soon. “You need a break, Len. Every time you always come back exhausted, and almost all the time, I have to tow you out of your office so we can eat together,” You defended yourself. “I’m only looking out for your well being.”

“I don’t need a. Fucking. Break.” Leonard stalked towards your side of the bed. “What the hell gave you the right to look out for my well being?!”

“Because I'm your goddamn girlfriend!” You stood up. “And that gives me the right to look after you when something isn’t right. You and Jim are the same! You put on the weight of the entire fucking crew on yourself and more, without thinking of yourself first!”

“That does not give you the fucking right to go behind my back!” He stopped, mere inches from you. His face was set in angry lines, red, and even a vein popping out at his anger. Involuntarily, you took a step back and gulped. 

“Len, please,” You tried, eyes widening as he continued. 

“I can’t believe I trusted you!”

“Damn it Leonard McCoy,” You immediately shot back at him. “Would you listen to yourself for one damn minute? You can’t look after the goddamn crew if you can’t look after yourself first!”

“Forget it, Y/N.” Leonard spat, storming out your shared quarters.

When the doors slid shut, you stood there in shock. Before long, you spun on your heels and marched back towards the bedroom. Tears came streaming down, falling quietly onto the carpet below. Crawling into bed, you hugged your knees to your chest and bawled loudly, shaking as you did so. 

All you could do was cycle Leonard’s hard words over and over again, as if the repeat button was broken in, and there was nothing to stop it. It was never easy from the beginning. You knew this, Leonard knew it too. You enjoyed your job, and so did he. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself utterly break down.

“Doctor,” The bartender greeted when Leonard sat down on a bar stool. 

“Bourbon, on the rocks.” 

Wisely, the bartender left. Leonard held his head in his hands, not a single sound was uttered as he sat. A glass of bourbon sat untouched in the quiet bar.

Well, me and my lady had our first big fight 

So I drove around till I saw the neon light

The corner bar, it just seemed right so I pulled up

Not a soul around but the old bar keep

Down at the end lookin' half asleep

But he walked up and said, what'll it be?

I said the good stuff

He didn't reach around for the whiskey

He didn't pour me a beer

His blue eyes kinda went misty

He said you can't find that here

He was ready to spend the rest of his life with you. He was sure you were the one. After the divorce with Jocelyn, you had been there with him since that small cafe. It was easy being around you, almost as easy as breathing. Your smile shone as bright as the stars, your laughter was infectious, and he could get lost in your eyes every time he caught your gaze.

He’d fallen head over heels quickly, and you did too.

Cooking recipes together, eating burnt dinner, enjoying a brief time down at the holodeck. There was nothing you didn’t do on the ship together. He was nervous speaking with your mom the first time when you introduced them to each other. You were a mess when he did the same to you with his mom, Joanna, his sister, and his grandparents. 

Everyone got along well, and were hopeful that he would be it. Every time you went down for an away mission, he would be the one to patch you up. When he went down, you micromanaged up until he returned back into your arms once more.  

The ring was stuffed deep inside his pocket, an uncomfortable constant reminder that he’d made the choice. The subject was brought up after a drunk night, at the same bar he was in now. An old song played, and you told him what you wanted.

Marry him. 

Leonard had never thought that he would ever hear the words again. You had to be kidding, you couldn’t mean what you said. In the morning after, you assured him that you were 100% serious. If you were ever going to marry anyone, it would be him. No one else. 

You were his.

He was yours. 

He’d chosen the ring during one of the shore leaves, while you were out with your friends relaxing at the beaches. Jim had teased him the entire way there and back. It was a small market that he had looked around for. An artisan jeweler brought out the pieces, and after much thought, he had chosen a modest one. 

It was a promise. A promise of more in the future, and a life full of happiness. But now, it felt as if everything he’d worked for was crumbling down. 

“I apologize for intruding, doctor,” The bartender hesitated, barging into Leonard’s thoughts. “A fight with the Commander?”

'Cause its the first long kiss on a second date

Momma's all worried when you get home late

And droppin' the ring in the spaghetti plate

'Cause you're hands are shakin' so much

And its the way that she looks with her eyes and her hair

Eatin' burnt suppers the whole first year

And askin' for seconds to keep her from tearin' up

Yeah man, that's the good stuff

It was just a relationship hurdle Leonard had to go through. Everyone did.  He wanted you and him to work, badly. Jim was no help, and so the only logical thing was to explain it all. He didn’t know how long it was since he last asked for help.

Him and Jocelyn went to marriage counseling, but that fell through immediately. It wasn’t long before they were arguing again, bringing the whole house down. As the rift widened, he knew it wasn’t long before they separated. 

He was right. Now, he didn’t want a repeat number two. 

“Doc, I met my wife five years ago,” The bartender started placing the clean glasses away, reminding of how Leonard first met you. “Lost her after a year together on the Valiant. It was a new planet, and she was a scientist that wanted to know as much as she could. I regret it all, spending my time drinking at a bar when I could’ve been with her.”

Leonard frowned, rolling his glass around in confusion. “I don’t-.”

“Alcohol changes nothing. The problem at the end, is just swept under the rug where hopefully no one ever notices it,” The bartender continued, as though he didn’t hear the doctor in front of him. “But what you don’t know is that turning a blind eye only makes the problem grow bigger.”

He paused. “If I had known that Morgan would be brought back home in just a year, I would take it all back. All the arguing, all the anger, just to be able to see her smile again. It’s not worth it, worth the shouting, worth the pain.  I’d do anything to keep her happy, and I’m sure that’s what you want with Y/N also.”

Leonard nodded, taking a sip as he listened. 

“I spent it all at the bar here. We fought. I drank. We fought more. I drank more. It was a continuous cycle of love and hate. Eventually, we would crash and burn. We would forgive each other, and try to move on. In the morning before she died, we fought too. I told her it was too dangerous, that someone else could go in her place. But my wife was stubborn, said that it was her job as a scientist and to document it all. She later died in my arms, thinking that I hated her.”

The bartender took a sip from his water, looking forlornly out the window. 

Leonard stared down at his empty glass, contemplating the words. When he and Jocelyn started fighting, he had ended up turning to alcohol. Too close with alcohol in fact. Being a resident kept him busy, almost always around the clock at the hospital. It was always work, went home to sleep, and then went back to work again. He took it all for granted, and he paid the price.

Now, he was noticing the pattern again. Working down at the medbay, and only coming back to his quarters dead on his feet. He knew what he had to do. 

He grabbed a carton of milk and he poured a glass

And I smiled and said I'll have some of that

We sat there and talked as an hour passed like old friends

I saw a black and white picture and it caught my stare

It was a pretty girl with bu-font hair

He said, that's my Bonnie, taken 'bout a year after we wed

He said, I spent five years in the bar when the cancer took her from me

But I've been sober three years now

'Cause the one thing's stronger than the whiskey

“Now all I have left of her are my two kids that I raised on my own, and I’ve told them the same that I’m telling you now. Life is too short to focus on the small arguments, to waste it all away on something far less precious than the one you want to be with the rest of your life. Even more so, when no one knows when we will pass out in space where our control is out of our hands, doc.”

Leonard looked back up at the bartender, who was now leaning against the counter. 

“And your kids now?”

 “Morgan didn’t watch them grow up into the adults they are now, and didn’t hold what would have been our grandchildren. All I could remember was drinking all the time in order to drown my sorrows away, and hopefully forget it all.They keep me sober for two years now, and I do it for them now.   Both have their momma’s eyes. But I still miss her like crazy. I miss her laugh, her smile, her jokes, her eyes, the way she moves, everything. What I have left now are memories and a picture of her.”

He indicated a small colored photo propped up against a shot glass with a slight nod. “I keep her on me at all times. But most of my memories were hardly good. So I live with the regret of yelling and arguing at her for the rest of my life. I hope she’s up there somewhere though, in a better place and have forgiven me.”

“If I had the chance to do it right, I would take it within a heartbeat. Don’t repeat what I did. You never know when the good Lord will call your loved ones home.”  

“I understand what you’re tryin’ to say,” Leonard quietly spoke. 

“Here,” The bartender slid a glass of water over to the doctor. “I hope you keep this in mind, doc. We’ve only got one chance to get this right.” 

Was the sight of her holdin' my baby girl

The way she adored that string of pearls

I gave her the day that our youngest boy Earl

Married his high school love

And its a new t-shirt sayin' I'm a grandpa

Bein' right there as our time got small

And holdin' her hand when good the Lord called her up

Yeah man that's the good stuff

“I-I should go,” Leonard stood up, reaching over to pay for his drink. He drained his glass of water quickly. 

“It’s on me, doc,” The bartender waved his offered credits away. “For my wife Morgan.”

Thanking him, he hurried back to his shared quarters, desperately hoping you were still there. He knew what he had to say. All he needed was you to not have left. It would crush him even more if you did. No, he convinced himself. You were still there of course, but unhappy and upset. 

Rightly so. 

You didn’t know how long it had been since Leonard left, but you assumed it must have been a bit by now. Your mind still echoed of his anger, and it was all you could think about. The crying hadn’t exactly stopped either, only enough for you to suffer in the silence. 

It was silent enough that you heard the doors slid open though, and curled up tighter into a fetal position. You hid deeper under the covers, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t be able to immediately see you. You shivered as you heard his footsteps approach. 

“Still here, sugar?” Leonard called out from the hallway. He waited a moment for a reply, a sound, anything, but heaved a heavy sigh in the silence. “Thought so,” he mumbled, slowly making his way towards the bedroom. 

You kept your eyes on your pillow, one side of your cheek brushing against the wetness of the pillow cover. It was easier to not meet his gaze, or anything to associate with him. You whimpered quietly, eyes glassy and faraway. When the mattress dipped beside you, you kept your eyes focused on the other wall, refusing to look at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. 

It’s all you’ve known previously. You’d hoped this time, it would be different. Clearly not. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it, I swear,” He murmured, slowly sliding his way into the covers beside you. His voice always soothed you, and this time it was no different. Yet, you still didn’t move.

Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around you in an effort to bring you closer to him. Wrenched out of your mind by the sudden contact, you flinched and jumped, before finally turning around to fully face him. 

Leonard looked wounded. For a moment, the self loathing crossed his face before it disappeared as quickly as it came. You knew Leonard, knew him enough that he would never hurt you. Therefore, you trusted him more than you had ever trusted anyone outside your immediate family. 

The mind was cruel that way. It twisted and turned, whispering words of pain and distrust after the fight. Playing a trick was how the mind defended itself, but his time, it was hurting you in its path of self defense. Sniffling, you slowly looked up from his blue tunic and up to his eyes. All you could see reflected in his eyes was apologetic, understanding, and most importantly, love.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice soft and gentler than he had ever used on you. You whimpered once more, and he squeezed you tighter in his arms. “I know. It’s alright.” You ducked your head back down, letting out a sigh of relief that you didn’t know you were holding in, and laid your head on his chest. 

And cried once more. 

“I’m so sorry, sugar,” Leonard spoke lowly. Bit by bit, your tears stopped falling. Quieting down after some time, you let Leonard gently wipe away tear streaks upon your cheeks. You cleared your scratchy throat, hoping to get the words.

“Should’ve told you,” You managed out, looking tearfully back up at him. 

“Let me hold you for tonight, worry about that tomorrow.”

He said, when you get home she'll start to cry

When she says, I'm sorry, say so am I

Look into those eyes so deep in love and drink it up

'Cause that's the good stuff

“I’m not going to break up with you.” Was the first thing you said in the morning over breakfast. You’d taken the day off, knowing that even if you went back to work in the state you were in at the moment, Jim would just take you off anyways. Plus Leonard mattered more to you than a job. He was your everything, and you would do anything to fix this together.

Leonard came first. Job came second.

Leonard frowned, nearly choking over his spit at your words. “You should be furious with me.”

You only shook your head, poking your eggs around before taking a bite. “It's not the first time I've gone through this, Len.” A pause. “And I should’ve known better.” 

“You were looking out for me, sweetheart, and I’m sorry that I yelled at you.”

You reached out with your other hand to grab his, rubbing circles into his skin in an attempt to soothe him. “Thank you.”

That's the good stuff

ST Tags: @mournthewicked​ (You’re the best, thank you.)

[kelyon]

Golden Cuffs Chapter 23: The Sun

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

They feel safe in the sun (for 8000 words)

Read more on AO3

Trigger warning for Anger, Shouting, Anger-induced beating and mentions of sexy pirates.

A/N: As of now, Golden Cuffs will be posting bi-weekly instead of every week. Still on Fridays and in the evenings, but every other Friday and possibly much later in the evenings. Inbox is always open. TMI TUESDAY IS STILL EVERY WEEK I GET QUESTIONS! Thanks for sticking with me, fam!

Belle was dreaming, she had to be. Nothing she perceived made any sense unless it was a dream.

To start with, she was warm. Technically, she supposed, that wasn’t too outside the realm of possibility. Rumple had been letting her sleep in various beds, in warm rooms with piles of blankets covering her. But she had spent so many nights shivering in the dungeon that it was still strange to emerge out of sleep feeling comfortable.

The sunlight had to be her imagination. All the bedrooms in Rumpelstiltskin’s castle were heavily curtained. All the windows were covered, except for in the tower where he spun and in the dungeons. And the light that washed over Belle now was not the weak, silvery day that filtered in to her cell under the ground. This was a golden glow of warmth that had washed over her slumbering eyelids and permeated into her dreams.

She had to be dreaming. Even if the warmth and the light were real, she had to be dreaming the body lying halfway underneath her. Such a thing was impossible. There was no way that she was sleeping on a chest as it rose and fell with breath. It was impossible to feel the added heat of a person beside her, impossible to hear a calm and steady heartbeat.

With her eyes still closed, Belle draped one arm over the  warm chest, nestled her head into the crook of the neck that she was dreaming. Her legs tangled into legs that couldn’t be there, but she could pretend they were just the same. She could imagine this comfort, this happiness, of being in a bed with a man she wanted. She could enjoy this dream she was having, this dream of love.

She didn’t open her eyes until Rumpelstiltskin began to snore again. Last night she had been exhausted enough to ignore the noise, but now it pulled her out of her blissful slumber. Still staying where she was, Belle blinked awake and looked around.

The sunlight had been real. A glass dome in the ceiling over their heads let in a glorious dawn. Beams of sunshine poured over them, catching motes of dust in the air. It was a warm, strong light, unusual this far into winter. Lying in the sun, Belle felt strangely anointed, like she was being blessed.

Aside from the dome, there were no windows in the room. White plaster walls arched down from the ceiling until they met a section of paneled wood. Last night, Belle had been bound to one of those panels. She grinned at the memory. Last night, she had learned more of Rumple’s body than she had ever known before.

She looked over at him in the bed next to her. His eyes were closed, his face slack. He had fallen asleep after they had coupled, after he had used magic to prolong their activities. He had made himself hard twice in a row, then used his magic to pleasure her over and over.

And then he had collapsed, falling into sleep like a dead man. Belle knew he didn’t normally need to sleep, so this must be the price he paid. She wondered if there would be anything else. How long would he have to sleep before he recovered?  

He was naked under the sheepskin that covered them. He had been naked all last night, and she had been permitted to kiss his body, to know him even if she could not see him or touch him. They had made their bodies one last night, both of them naked and trembling with fear and desire.

It had been wonderful.

Belle nuzzled into him while he slept, enjoying the feeling of his skin against her skin. Her lips brushed against him in soft kisses. If she kept at it, would he wake? Would he want to wake up to her kissing him? Or would he feel it as an attack?

Frowning, she turned her head. He was so cagey about being touched, about being known. She thought she understood why, why he would constantly defend himself. If the Dark One had spent years being feared and hated, he wouldn’t know how to cope with being treated gently.

It hurt Belle to pull away from him, but she knew it was what he would want her to do. It had probably only been an oversight that he hadn’t had the cuffs lock her to the headboard of the bed so she couldn’t move at all. That was the sort of thing he normally did.

She sighed and sat up in the bed. It was a well-made piece of furniture. Solid wood-- probably chestnut. The headboard was clearly old and worn, but it was still sturdy. The mattress crinkled when she moved. Belle put her hand down on the rough canvas that covered the mattress and felt for what was inside.

It was straw.

Every bed she’d slept in since Rumple taken her out of the dungeons had been stuffed with feathers. Her mattress at home had been made of wool. But this bed, the bed in the room Rumpelstiltskin had called the safest room in the castle, was filled with noisy, uncomfortable straw.

Belle’s mind went back to the little room she had found, his son’s room. Everything in that room was like this bed--it had been good once, but it had been worn and used until it was threadbare. Only meticulous repair had prevented the little boy’s clothes from being rags. And the bed Rumpelstiltskin considered safest was the bed of a poor peasant.   

This bed was wide enough to accommodate both of them with room to spare. Belle understood why. This was the only bed that would be in a poor man’s house. Typically, a man and his wife and the children would all sleep together in a bed like this. Anyone else would have a pallet on the floor. That was how the villagers lived in Belle’s town.

Had this been Rumpelstiltskin’s bed? Had it been in the home where he’d lived before had taken up residence in a castle? Had the bed been a gift from his parents? A wedding gift? Had Rumple spent his wedding night in this bed? Had he slept here, in his life before, with the woman he had loved? Had his son been conceived where Belle lay right now? Had the boy been born in this bed?

The image came into her mind, of Rumpelstiltskin in this bed, holding his wife as she held their son. A young woman, exhausted from motherhood but glowing with happiness, content in knowing she was exactly where she wanted to be. A tiny baby in an embroidered nightgown, nursing at his mother’s breast, listening to his father’s voice. A family. All of them feeling safe and comfortable and loved.

Belle pushed herself out of the bed, her heart burning with a pain she didn’t want to name. She stood by the bed and covered her face with her hands. The cuffs brushed against her cheeks when she wiped the tears from her eyes.

No matter how much Rumpelstiltskin gave her, he would never give her that. She would never bear him children, she would never have his love. He valued her, she knew that now. He cared for her. He would treat her well for the rest of her life. But she would always be his whore, his thing. She knew that he could love, that he had loved. But he would never love her. No matter how tenderly he spoke to her, no matter how much of himself he offered her, it would never be the same as the bond he had shared with his wife.

To distract herself from these melancholy thoughts, Belle looked around the room. It was a circle, of no great size, the same shape as the tower. This room seemed to be just large enough to comfortably hold exactly what it held, with no room for any additions and no need for any subtractions. The bed was in the center of the circle, directly under the dome. Different pieces of furniture covered the wooden walls and Belle realized there was no door to this room.

At least, there was no space for a door. Any of the panels could open, she supposed, or there could be some kind of trap door in the floorboards. But she didn’t see any evidence of such a thing. And in this castle of wonders, it was just as easy to believe that this room didn’t have a door, that it could only be entered by magic.

There was a worn farm table along one of the walls, almost as long as the table in the castle’s dining room. But there was only one chair at the table where Belle served Rumpelstiltskin tea, where he beat her or fucked her however the mood struck him. The table in this room had a stool at either end and a long bench on the side.

Belle swallowed and thought again of his family, the meals he would have shared with them at this shabby table. She could imagine Rumple listening patiently as his little boy breathlessly recounted the adventures of his day. She could imagine him catching his wife’s eye over their supper. He would compliment her cooking, and smile at her for no reason other than because he was happy.

Turning away, Belle saw a spinning wheel. It was a smaller wheel than what he spun with in the tower, with an old wooden stool in front of it. Like everything else, the wheel looked battered and worse for wear. It wasn’t a surprise to find a spinning wheel in Rumpelstiltskin’s room. But it did surprise her to see that the wheel was surrounded not by straw, but by piles of fluffy white wool.

As she got closer to the spinning wheel, Belle saw that there was nothing on it but wool. The bobbin was half-full of neatly spun white yarn. There was a bit of fluff coming out of the wheel’s orifice, ready for more wool to be joined to it. Behind the wheel, Belle noticed a spinner’s weasel, a wheel-like device used to stretch out yarn after it was spun.  The yarn wound around the pegs measured almost a whole skein.

This had been a part of Rumpelstiltskin’s life too, hadn’t it? Spinning wool into yarn. How long had he done that before he had learned to make straw into gold? How had a life that was now so magical once been so mundane? What had changed? When had he lost his wife, his son, the home he’d once had that now he had made into a tiny part of his grand castle?

Dizzy with questions, Belle moved on around the room. There was a cupboard standing on its own like a wardrobe. She didn’t open it. Already she was learning more than Rumple would want her to know. There was no need to open doors that were shut, not now.

But the small table that seemed to function as a desk had no closed doors. All of the contents were out in the open for Belle to see. There were stacks of parchment, drawings in brown ink and black charcoal. Carefully, Belle leafed through the images. Most of them were of a baby, and then a child. They were in chronological order, she realized. Belle would be able to watch Rumpelstiltskin’s son grow up on these pages.

He had been a chubby baby, with a shock of curly hair, rendered in black. The artist had drawn him laughing, with bright eyes and dimples. There were many pictures of the baby sleeping--probably the only time he would stay still. The first drawing was of a tiny bundle, no bigger than a loaf of bread.

Belle smiled at a picture of the little boy, perhaps two years old, sleeping while lying on top of his father. Rumplestiltskin’s hair was longer then, and he looked different when depicted in charcoal, but she recognized him by his prominent nose. Father and son were both asleep, both their heads thrown back in the same posture . Did both of them snore? Even in sleep, Rumple’s arms were wrapped around his son. The artist had neglected to draw his hands.

More drawings, the boy growing bigger, laughing less often. The last ink drawing was when he was about six. He had become a thin child, wearing the sorts of ragged clothes Belle had found in the little room. He still had dark and curly hair, but his eyes had become so sad. Too large for his tiny face, the boy’s eyes looked hungry. Perhaps they yearned for food, or perhaps he needed something more. At six years old, Rumpelstiltskin’s son had turned mournful.

Belle was halfway through the stack when the drawings on the parchment changed dramatically. Now they were all a child’s drawings, crude charcoals made on the backs of public notices. This must be the work of the boy himself, drawing as he had watched his parent draw.

Most of the child’s drawings were of animals--sheep and dogs and birds. He had an eye for detail and unusual patience for a little boy. When Belle and Andre had been small, her cousin had no time to sit down to draw the lines in the feathers of a bird’s wing--not while there were games to play with the other boys. Perhaps Rumple’s son hadn’t played with other children. Perhaps he’d had no company but animals.

She found a drawing of the little boy and--Belle smiled--Rumple. The boy had drawn himself with curly dark hair, and his father with a narrow triangle for a nose. It was just the two of them in this picture. Father and son held hands and walked along a road in the forest. They must have been going on a journey, for Rumple held a walking stick in the hand that wasn’t holding the boy.  

The drawings grew more advanced as the boy grew older. People did appear, though none were Rumple or his wife. Belle came upon a picture of a girl, about twelve or thirteen. She was pretty, with lightly-shaded hair and a clever-looking grin. The girl had her hand on her hip and looked steadily out from the drawing. She looked fearless and strong. The boy must have liked her.   

The last drawing must have been the boy himself. He was wearing a cloak over his dark mess of hair. He wasn’t smiling, but Belle couldn’t say that he looked sad either. Determined, perhaps, or resigned. The boy couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old, but his eyes looked out at her, steady and unafraid. His life had been hard, Belle knew, but even at that tender age he had grown strong enough to bear it. He looked at peace with what his life had become. Belle wanted to weep for him.

There were no more drawings after that.

Her heart and mind heavy with thoughts of Rumpelstiltskin and his wife and his son, Belle was ready to go back to the bed and sleep for the rest of the day. But then a golden glint caught her eye. It was on the table, scattered about with all the papers and other objects. At first, she thought the gleam was just a bit of golden thread, nothing unusual, even in this room of Rumpelstiltskin’s castle.

But when she reached for the gold, it felt familiar under her fingertips. It wasn’t a thread, she saw, but a fine chain. The gold was wrapped around the black hilt of a knife that lay casually on the little table, along with a doorknob and a dozen other disorganized objects. Carefully, Belle unwound the chain and picked it up. It was a necklace. Her breath caught in her throat and she didn’t release it until she saw the fragment of unicorn horn and she knew.

It was her necklace.

After all this time, she had it again. This was where he had put it. He had said he would keep it safe, and now she knew it was in the safest room in the castle. Her necklace had been the most precious thing in the world to her, and now she found that Rumple had kept it near the things that were most precious to him.

Tears sprung into her eyes and there was no sorrow in them. Had she been wrong about Rumpelstiltskin? Did he have room for her after all? If he could keep something of hers in the literal space where he kept the memories of his family, would he have a place in his heart for her as well?

Belle clutched the necklace to her chest. This had always been something he didn’t need. It had nothing to do with their deal, with her vow to be his whore. Once, she had thought him cruel for taking it, but now it meant so much to her that he would want it. He had taken her heirloom, her memories of her mother--but he had kept them next to his memories of his son.

She ran the pendant through the chain, just like her mother used to, and then put the necklace back where she had found it. Rumple had stolen it from her, but now she was giving it to him. She trusted him to have it, to keep it safe and never use it to harm her.

Picking up the knife from the table, Belle wrapped her necklace as it had been, around the hilt.

This knife, she realized, didn’t belong with the rest of the room. Calling a blade sharp was, of course, redundant. But there was no other word to describe the knife, to contrast it with the worn and homey objects she had found everywhere else in this safe room. The weapon seemed magical. It shone with newness, but there was something ancient about it, even older than anything else here. When she held it in her hand, the blade felt older than time itself.

There was a ruby on the pommel, red as an ocean of blood. The handle and cross guard were black. The edge of the blade waved as it went down, like no weapon Belle had ever seen before. On both sides, the steel was darkly engraved in an intricate design. Turning it over, Belle saw the name carved on this dagger, Rumpelstiltskin.

“What are you doing?’

His voice was sharp and as loud as the crack of a whip. Belle turned to look at him. She was still holding the knife in both hands when the cuffs pulled her to kneel on the ground. The jerking movement made her drop the knife and it clattered on the wooden floor.

Rumpelstiltskin’s boots marched steadily over to her. He bent at the waist and picked up the knife carefully, looking it over as though Belle might have damaged it.

He had put on clothes, she saw. Scaly black leather and his coat. The Dark One was in fine form.

When he spoke, his voice was dangerously soft, his consonants clipped. He said every word slowly. “What were you doing?”

Belle thought she wasn’t afraid, but her heart still raced in her chest. “I was just looking.”

“If you were just looking I wouldn’t have felt anything. No, dearie, you were touching!”

“Yes,” Belle confessed, her head bowed. “I’m sorry, Rumpelstiltskin. I--I shouldn’t have touched the drawings.”

She couldn’t see his face, but she could tell when his posture changed. No longer a creeping menace, he stood upright, as though startled by something.

“The drawings?” he repeated, in a voice more like what Belle was used to.

“The ones on the table,” she explained. “The ones of your son. That is him, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he whispered. Behind her, Belle heard his footsteps go to the table. She heard the rustle of parchment. For a moment, there was no sound. And then Rumple said, “Is that all you were looking at? Is that all you touched?”

Belle tried to remember all she had done that morning. “I touched my necklace as well,” she said. “And that knife.”

“It’s a dagger,” Rumple said under his breath. “And I suppose you will say it is the least interesting object in this room.”

Belle nodded. “Though now I think it might be important.”

“It is.”  She heard him place the blade down on the table. “Never touch it again.”

The cuffs went warm at his order and Belle stayed locked to the ground. She wanted to ask about her necklace, if she might ever touch that again, but she knew now wasn’t the time. Rumpelstiltskin remained just out of her sight. He wasn’t going to let her get away with this.

“So it seems you’ve learned a lot today, my whore. Are you ready to pay the price for that information?”

Belle nodded. She was suddenly aware of her nakedness, of her back and bottom jutting into the air while she groveled on the floor. Rumple was going to hurt her, but that was alright. She breathed. It really was alright.

The first blow was a solid thwack on her backside. Belle grunted from the shock that was no surprise. This was familiar territory, nothing she couldn’t handle. While she waited for her mind to fog, she tried to guess what he was hitting her with. It was sturdy, but not as heavy as some of the bruising implements he liked to use.

Another blow and she could feel that it was long and thin. A solid thing, not a whip or a crop. A stick perhaps. He hit her again and again and Belle swayed on her knees as she fell into a cloud of trust, that lovely paradoxical bliss that came from pain.   

After a few more strikes, Rumpelstiltskin stopped. Belle heard him breathing heavily.

“Have you learned your lesson?” he panted. “Or do you still want to tempt me?”

Blinking slowly, Belle raised her head and waited for words to come. “What do you mean, Rumple?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

She lay her head back on the floor. “Am I paid up, then?”

“You are,” he breathed. “Unless you want to ask me questions about what you’ve seen today.”

Even in this state, Belle noticed the plural. “How many questions may I ask?”

“As many as you can bear, my dear. I will hurt you, and you will hurt me, until one of us breaks entirely. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

They had never played like that before, never such a clean exchange. Belle would be a fool to pass by such an opportunity.

“A strike for a question? Rumpelstiltskin, we have a deal.”

The noise he made was not the delighted giggle that she might have expected, but a more resigned and bitter sound. “Ask away, then.”

“Were you married to your son’s mother?”

“Yes,” he said, and hit her.

Belle rocked on her knees at the impact, but asked her next question without hesitation. “And it is just the boy, isn’t it? There are no other children?”

“No.” Another hit, this one pulling out a keening whine from Belle’s throat.

“Who made the drawings on the table, the ones of the baby?”

“Millah--” he said quickly and then made a face. Clearly he hadn’t intended to give Belle the woman’s name.

“That’s your wife?”

“Yes.” He hit her twice for the two questions.

“What was she like?”

This time he struck her before he answered. “She was a wild thing, who hated her cage.”

“She was unhappy?”

“Miserable.” The pain landed across Belle’s shoulders and she cried out.

“Why was she so miserable?”

“Because she never loved me!” A rain of blows fell over Belle’s back as he hit her again and again with the stick. Belle screamed and sobbed and pressed her body to the ground, begging for mercy that she knew would never come.

She didn’t know when it stopped, when there was no more new pain, when she realized that the cries she heard were not just her own. Lifting her head off the floor, Belle saw Rumple in front of the bed. His back was to her, but she could see his head bowed in his hands.

Belle heard him weeping.

“Rumple!” she shouted. Belle pulled at the cuffs, her own pain forgotten. “Rumpelstiltskin let me go! Please! Let me go to you!”

The cuffs released her and Belle scrambled to her feet. She ran the short distance to him and threw her arms around his body. Embracing him through his stiff leather coat, she held him as tightly as she could. Belle held her wrists in her hands, keeping her grip by winding her fingers around the cuffs.

Pressed against him she could feel his chest heaving. Something hot fell onto her hands--tears, his tears. After a moment of her embrace, Rumpelstiltskin grabbed at Belle’s hands, clenching them so hard she thought her bones would break.

“I was not a monster then,” his words came between gasps and sobs. “I wanted nothing but her happiness, hers and my son’s. But I had nothing to give her, nothing that she wanted. She came to hate me. And then she left us.”

Belle’s eyes widened. “She left the boy behind?”

In her village, it was a brave woman who had the fortitude to run away from an unhappy life--usually from a husband who was unfaithful or a drunkard or who let his children go hungry. But even those desperate wives would take their children with them. Often, it was only for the sake of the children’s safety that women broke away from their husbands in the first place.

“I had to tell my son that his mother was dead,” Rumple said. “Because that was kinder than the truth.”

“What was the truth?”

His hand gripped tightly into hers. “It is an ugly story, Belle.”

She rested her cheek on the back of his coat. “Tell me.”

She felt him nod. “At the time, I thought she had been kidnapped by pirates. I thought that they had taken her away with plans to make her a bed-slave for the whole crew. I thought that if I tried to fight them they would kill me and leave my son with no one.”

“Oh, Rumple.” Belle rubbed her thumb back and forth against his fingers.

His voice turned bitter. “As it turns out, Millah had not been stolen at all. She had gone away willingly. Eagerly, even. She had seduced the pirate captain and become his second in command. I imagine she spent many happy years on the high seas, enjoying her freedom and her plunder while the husband she left behind raised her son alone.”

She shook her head against the leather on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

He straightened up, his voice brightened. “Well, I got my own back. A few years after I lost my son, I found my wife. I learned the truth of her deception, saw firsthand how deeply she loved her dashing pirate captain.” He gave a dark chuckle. “I ripped out her heart and crushed it while he watched.”

Belle dropped her hands, broke the embrace. “What?”

Rumpelstiltskin spun around, grinning at her with his rotted teeth. “I told you it was an ugly story.”

She stepped away from him, suddenly aware of how dangerous the Dark One was. Her back was on fire, Belle felt the pain now. She would have bruises for weeks. He had hurt her badly, and for no other reason than to satisfy his own black and twisted desires. Had he treated his wife the same way? Was that the cage she had hated? Was that why she had left?

No, Belle told herself. He was not a monster then. And even now, Rumple was not as evil as he seemed. The smiling demon’s face was nothing but a mask he wore to scare people. Even now in the sunlight, he was hiding behind his darkness. He was trying to repulse her, trying to keep her away from him. Trying to protect himself.

Belle had seen him cry. He would not frighten her so easily.

She looked steadily into his glinting eyes. She kept her voice even. “Thank you for being honest with me, Rumple.”

His smile froze for a moment, then withered into an expression of sour defeat. He looked at her, and Belle could sense his mood becoming darker. Good. If he was angry at her and had the courage to show it, then she would face him head-on. At least the emotions that welled up from him now were honest. No matter what bile he unleashed on her, Belle at least knew it was coming from his heart.  

He jerked away from her and paced a sharp circle around the room. His hands clenched into fists and then unclenched over and over. “Why don’t you hate me?” he snarled.

He didn’t touch her. They weren’t playing now, he wouldn’t hurt her. Magic and rage swirled around him, an invisible but indomitable storm.

“How is it possible that you have endured one moment of life with me and not been consumed with contempt and rage?” His head swivelled sharply on his neck in different directions, as though he were having silent conversations with a dozen different people at once. “How can you know me at all and not want to rid the world of me?”

Belle stayed where she was and watched Rumpelstiltskin. In her mind’s eye she saw him as a little boat in a stormy sea, helpless against the winds and rains of his own emotions. But she was a rock, a mountain. She had nothing to fear from his thunder and lightning.

“How?” he snarled. Grabbing her shoulders, he lifted her off the ground and shook her roughly. “What is wrong with you? What kind of woman are you?”

“A better one than her,” Belle said firmly. Her anger was enough to match his. She pulled  out of his grasp and landed on her feet.  She stood on the floor in front of him, resolute, immovable.

Rumpelstiltskin backed away from her slowly, clearly shaken by what was happening.

“I am not that woman and I do not hate you!” She filled the words with passion, with all the conviction she could muster. “I’ve never hated you and I’ve never said I did. Please believe me!”

He looked at her and did not speak. He was trembling, Belle saw, but he kept his eyes on her.

“I do not wish you harm, Rumple.” Her voice broke, just a little. “I don’t know what happened to convince you you were unworthy of--” Her voice choked over the word she wanted to use but couldn’t. “Of human affection, of physical intimacy, of basic friendliness. But all I can tell you is that it isn’t true! You have every right to happiness and safety and--”

For the second time, a word caught in Belle’s throat. A word she couldn’t say to him, even if she tried to show it to him with every action she took of her own will. “You deserve to be a person, Rumpelstiltskin. You don’t need to think of yourself as a monster.”  

She was crying now, overcome by emotion. Belle closed her eyes as she stood and let her tears fall to the ground.

His arms wrapped around her body, and he held her. She let herself melt into the embrace, sobbing into his chest. Rumpelstiltskin comforted her, while she cried for his sake.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he rubbed her back. “Thank you, Belle.”

She cried for a long time, like a soft and steady rain. She felt the weight of all she had learned about Rumple today, a lifetime of pain and loss experienced in the space of a few hours. It was so much to take in. No wonder Rumple--who had lived this tragedy--found it easier to shut it all away. It was safer not to feel anything.

Eventually, Belle sniffed and wiped her eyes. When she looked at Rumple, he was giving her a cautious smile.

“Are you hungry?” he said softly. “I’m famished.”

He wanted to eat? She had never seen him hungry before. Stunned and curious, Belle went with him to the table.

When she looked at the farm table, she almost started crying again. Apparently the meals eaten here had not been as loving as she had imagined. Her mind’s eye was filled with images of Rumple and his wife silent over their dinners--each with nothing to say to the person they no longer loved. Or Rumple and his son, alone but for each other. And then Rumple by himself, thinking he had earned that fate.

Without thinking about it, Belle knelt on the ground by the stool at the head of the table. That was the place she was used to, when he took tea in the dining room. As she knelt, she heard Rumple’s footsteps stop abruptly. She turned to look at him, saw him staring at her.  

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she realized. “I should serve you, shouldn’t I?” Belle stood up and began to look around. Perhaps there was a cupboard here like the one in the dining room.

“Stop,” Rumple said gently. “I don’t want you to serve me, not here. Not like that.”

“Oh,” Belle said, sinking to her knees again.

“It was a good idea, though. A good instinct.” He touched her hair as he sat down on the stool. “Would you like a tray, or shall I feed you from my hands?”

“Feed me, please, Rumple. Whatever you want to give me.”

It didn’t surprise her to find that in this room Rumpelstiltskin had very simple tastes. He fed her bites of hearty brown bread, each piece heavy with fresh butter. He passed down bits of yellow cheese--sheep cheese, if Belle guessed correctly--and slices of a soft green pear. Peasant food, all of it. Poor man’s food, but he seemed to enjoy it. Above her head, Belle heard him chewing, heard the smack of his lips as he sucked up the juicy pear. He fed her from his hand, and she kissed his fingers with every bite.

“I want to stay here,” he said when they both had eaten their fill. “For a little longer.”

Under the table, Belle leaned against his legs. “You said this room was safe.”

“It is,” he murmured. “This is the place where I allow myself to remember.”

She rested her head on his knee. “I hope there are good memories.”

Rumpelstiltskin touched her face, lifted her chin up to look at him. “There are many good memories in this room, though all are tinged with loss. Memories of my son, of my wife before it all went wrong. Someday I will come to this room and remember you, Belle.”

He seemed so sad to say it, and so sure that it would happen, that he would lose her. She supposed he would, eventually. Over time, she would grow old, then she would die while he lived on. How old was Rumpelstiltskin? How long had it been since he had been a husband and father? How many years--or decades or centuries--had he been alone?

“Will you remember last night?” Belle tried to fix her thoughts on more recent events.

“Oh yes,” he said. Then Rumple stood up and did something Belle had never seen him do before.

He took off his coat.

As he did most other things, Rumpelstiltskin undressed with fluid grace. He shrugged the scaled leather off his shoulders, caught the garment in one hand, and folded it neatly on the table.

He looked at Belle and offered his hand to help her stand up. “Last night was very good,” he said. “But I think we can make this evening even better.”

Belle licked her lips, her eyes darting to the thin silk of his shirt, the informal cravat at his neck. His tight leather trousers. “Do you think so, Rumple?”

“If you want to,” he said quickly. “If you can--”

“Yes.” She cut him off, silencing any words that would cast a pall over her desire for him. “I want to.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed. “Your hands are free,” he said with a showy wave. “I am at your disposal, madam.”

She looked him over again. His whole body was tense as a bowstring. She kept her voice soft, gentle.  “May I undress you, Rumple?”

He gave her a tight nod.

“And you’ll tell me if I ought to stop?”

“You wear my cuffs, woman. I will make you stop when I want you to.”

Belle giggled at his ire. “Yes, Rumpelstiltskin.” She stepped closer to him. “You can make me do anything.”

As she undid the loose knot of his cravat, Belle felt his pulse pounding under her fingers. She removed the fabric and set it beside his coat on the table. She walked briefly away from him, and it gave them both a moment to breathe.

“May I kiss your neck, Rumpelstiltskin?” she asked when she faced him again.

He swallowed. The lump in his throat bobbed visibly. “You may.”

She did. Like last night, he was warm under her lips. His heartbeat thudded but his breath was steady. In the late afternoon light, she could admire the mottled green of his skin, the delicate golden flecks on the surface of him. She kissed the hollow of his collarbone and he sighed.

His waistcoat laced on either side, and Belle lifted up his arms to loosen the bindings. He breathed deeply when she removed the stiff leather. Belle remembered the formal corset she’d had to wear underneath her golden gown, back home on those times when she’d had to act the role of a lady. The garment had improved her figure and made her feel taller, made her feel like she was wearing a suit of armor--but it was always a relief to take it off and be her natural self.

She touched Rumpelstiltskin over his shirt. His flesh was hot, perspiring under her hands. Slowly, she pulled the hem of his shirt out of the waistband of his breeches. He kept his eyes closed, his face unmoving and unreadable.

“We’re running out of layers,” she said. “Should I take off your shirt or unlace your trousers? Or I could take off your boots?”

His eyes opened suddenly, as though a horrifying thought had just sprung into his mind. “Shirt,” he rasped. “Y-you should take off my shirt.”

“Thank you, Rumple.” Belle was almost cooing, her voice was so soft. He stretched his arms forward and Belle pulled the silk over his head. When they were done Rumple stood in front of her, bare-chested and glorious.

He was so small. Bigger than she was, but skinny for a man. He looked weak, even though she knew he wasn’t. Perhaps he felt weak too. Belle’s mind went to Millah, the woman who had left him to seduce a pirate. Did Rumple think women found a burlier body more desirable?

Belle put her hands on his chest, felt the lean muscles in his shoulders, the hungry bones at his collar. Her pink fingers splayed out along his green-gray skin. His nipples were darker than the rest of him, forest green, budding like new leaves about to come to life. Belle touched him, and he didn’t stop her. She cupped his cheek in her palm and trailed her hand down his neck and over his abdomen. She wrapped both hands around his waist and encircled him in her arms.

“It’s not much,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “But it’s the only body I’ve got.”

“I like it,” Belle said. “I’d like to see more of it.”

He nodded. With an air of gracious defeat, he gestured to his trousers.

There was a familiar bulge underneath the leather. Belle couldn’t help but grin to see it, to touch that hardness as she slipped the laces out of their eyelets. For all Rumple hated being naked and vulnerable in front of her, at least one part of him enjoyed it too.

Belle pressed her legs together, aware of how much she also enjoyed what they were doing. She thrilled  to see him, to know his body, to feel his reactions to her actions. So often when he took her, it was for his benefit. Even her pleasure was something he wanted and he coaxed out of her body. But this way, maybe, pleasure could be something they could share. Something they could do together.

As soon as she pulled the leather trousers down from his groin, Rumple’s cock sprang up like a startled pheasant. Belle smiled when she saw it, feeling like she was greeting an old friend. It bounced up to touch his stomach, and Belle noticed that the skin of his lower abdomen grew more golden in color the closer it got to his groin. The coloration drew attention to that area, made everything stand out. The sack she had discovered last night hung loosely below his rigid manhood, a bronze-brown shadow underneath the gold.

Like his nipples, his cock was darker than the rest of his body--a lush brown-green. The tip of it, where his seed came out, was a different color, more green-gold. Her mouth watered to finally see this mysterious thing that had so dominated her days and nights.

His cock always felt so massive when it was inside her, but when she looked at it, it was only a little larger than her hand. How had she had so much trouble fitting this lovely thing inside her mouth? Had she just been intimidated? Perhaps it would be easier, now that she could see what she was working with.  

“May I touch here, Rumple?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, Belle. You may touch me.”

She placed her hand on his stomach and slowly moved down to stroke the tight curls that surrounded his cock. Their eyes met, and he looked at her in wonder as she traced over his hips, touching the places where his groin met his legs. She reached out to touch his back and felt the pronounced curve a very round bottom. Could men have backsides like that, so shapely and well-formed? She resolved to learn more about that later. For now, Belle’s hands rubbed gentle circles all around his lower half, gradually making the circles smaller as she came closer to her target.

“You’re teasing me,” he whispered.

“I’m getting to know you,” she countered. “All of you, not just the pleasurable bits.”

Rumple groaned. “I want to order you,” he said through gritted teeth.

Lightly, she ran her fingers over his cock. “Order me to stop?”

“Order you to fondle my balls and ready your throat for my cock. Fuck!” He said it all in one breath, his teeth clenched, his hands balled into fists pressed at his sides.

Belle’s hand gently cupped the fleshy sack between his legs. Her fingers grazed over the strange, soft parts of him, so vulnerable, but so easily pleasured. She kept her gaze on his body. “We can do that.”

He grunted a refusal. “When you’re done with all of this, I want to go to the bed again. I want you to get on top of me. I want you to ride me, Belle. Ride my cock and take everything you want from me.”

Belle swallowed. She felt herself grow wetter at his words. “Promise me one thing, Rumple. Promise me that I will see you naked again.”

He gave out a breathy laugh. “If that’s what you want, sweet girl.”

Belle turned her attention from the sight of her pale fingers wrapped around his dark cock and looked up at his face. “It is,” she said. “May we go to the bed now?”

Without a word, Rumple picked her up and carried her to his bed, magicking away his boots and trousers as he walked. They fell on the bed together, and Rumple kissed her, slowly and deeply.

“You are wonderful, my Belle. You deserve to get everything good in the world.”

She threw her arms around his back, holding him to her. “I don’t care about getting what I deserve as long as I get what I want.”

His eyes searched her face. “And what is that?”

“You.” She kissed him. Rumple let her control the kiss, but moved them both so that he was lying underneath her. His cock pressed up in the space between them, hard and inviting, reaching out to her. Belle rubbed her slick folds along the shaft and let him feel her need.

“Fuck,” Rumple whispered. “Will you open your cunt, Belle?”

“Will you do it for me? Will you put your cock inside me, Rumple?” She wanted to touch her, wanted him to carry the smell of her pleasure on his fingers.

“If you sit up, my sweet. If you get on your knees and straddle me.”

Belle did as he said, kneeling astride his body while he lay flat on the bed. She closed her eyes as he filled her. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her in lust-struck awe.

“You are even more beautiful in daylight.”

“So are you.” Her hips rocked over his cock as she controlled how deeply he went in to her. “In the sun, your skin looks gold.”  

They took their time. Rumple coaxed and praised Belle as she learned how to pleasure them both in this new position. He fingered her, and she came around his cock, the joys of her body fitting neatly with the desires of his. She touched his face, while he was inside her, grabbed at his arms when a wave of pleasure overtook her. She rubbed his nipples and he swore and laughed. He took her breasts in his hands and made her clench until she nearly came again and only stopped when she begged for mercy. Then he made her come again anyway.

It was a slow, gentle pleasure they pursued. Even Rumplestiltskin’s orgasm was easy, almost lazy. He pulsed into her with a shudder and then pulled Belle down to lay beside him. He held her to his skin. Their sweat mingled on their pressed foreheads, even as their fluids mixed between their legs. They breathed together, both of them exhausted and both of them sated.

“By the way,” Rumple when they had recovered. “I owe you an apology, for that tantrum after we were done with the game. It wasn’t… That’s not the way I want to act around you. I’m sorry.”

Belle nuzzled into his shoulder. “You were upset.”

“That doesn’t give me licence to shout at you.”

“I shouted right back.”

He squeezed her and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you did. But I must pay you for the harm I did to you. Is it possible you want anything other than a question?”

Belle giggled. “I still have too many questions about you to accept any other reward.”

“Alright,” he conceded. “But make it a good one. Don’t ask me what the weather’s going to be tomorrow. Ask me something that hurts.”

She didn’t want to hurt him, she never did. But she understood how his internal ledgers had to balance. He was inviting her to ask him an important question. And he would answer it, no matter what.

Belle took a deep breath. “What was your son’s name?”

For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin was silent. But as the winter sun sank from the glass dome overhead and left them in a murky twilight, he answered:

“Baelfire.”

[d-noona]

BARTERED BRIDE

SUMMARY: Kim Namjoon is a ruthless financer used to buying and selling stocks, shares and priceless artifacts. But now Namjoon has his eye on a very different acquisition – Y/N L/N. Left distute by her father’s recent death, Y/N walks into Namjoon’s bank looking to extend her overdraft. As Y/N needs money and Namjoon needs a wife, he proposes the perfect deal: he’ll rescue her financially if she agrees to marry him. But in this marriage of convenience can Y/N ever be anything more than just a bartered bride?

WORDS: 1898

Kim Namjoon x Reader

M.List  | Ch. 03 - Coming Soon!

CHAPTER 02 - A Little Push

She was on her way to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee when someone pressed the front-door buzzer. Answering it, Y/N found a bike messenger outside.

“Miss L/N?”

“Yes” she answered. “Big Hit X-Press, Package for you. Would you please sign for it?” Y/N wrote her name on the form and took the padded bag. There was nothing to indicate where it came from, only a plain white label with her name and address printed on it. Perhaps it was something she had ordered and forgotten about.

She closed the door and, walking back to the living room pulled the tab that opened the bah and peered at the contents, immediately recognizing the file Kim Namjoon had said was a resume of his life. Now there was a sheet of headed paper clipped to the cover. Aiming at the sofa, Y/N flung the package from her. As soon as she had her coffee, she’d find some sticky tape and a label, send the file back, unstamped, with UNSOLICITED UNWATED BUMPH written above the address.

She went to the kitchen, half-filled the electric kettle and perched on a stool at the breakfast bar. Usually she drank herb tea, being on a more or less permanent health kick. But sometimes, on days like this, she allowed herself a shot of caffeine. Postponing dealing with the package, she spent the next hour going through her father’s wardrobe, making sure nothing in the pockets of his suits before she folded them. Rather than giving them to a charity shop, she hoped to sell them. The chaos he had left behind him made it essential to raise money in every way.

With the hanging cupboards empty, the next job was the drawer, but after another cup of coffee or maybe a glass of white wine. She opened a bottle of Muscadet and filled a glass. Instead of taking it back upstairs she couldn’t resist her curiosity about the letter that man Kim Namjoon sent with the file. Later she debated going to a movie to make her mind off her problems for a couple of hours. But there she was still a lot to be done and she had already wasted half an hour reading the contents of the file.

She decided to phone for pizza and concentrate on the job in hand. During the evening she would call her mother, her mother didn’t know about the interview she had with Namjoon. Y/N felt it best not to mention it. She’d been trying to play down the financial side of her situation. Her supper arrived sooner than she expected. But when she opened the door, it wasn’t the pizza delivery man who stood outside. It was Kim Namjoon.

Y/N’s friendly expression froze into a mask of dislike. “What do you want?” she said curtly. “I thought you might have calmed down a little by now.” Says Namjoon. “I haven’t. I’m busy” she started to shut the door but he put a foot across the threshold and the flat of his hand on the door to hold it open. She had never expected to herself saying ‘How dare you” to anyone but it was what sprung from her lips, followed by a “Get out!”

“I’m not inside yet,” he said blandly. “We have things to talk about. May I come in?”

“We have nothing to say to each other. You have no right to pester me like this. If you don’t go away, I’ll call the security man and have you thrown off the premises” the further time passing Y/N’s annoyance started increasing. “On what grounds?” he dared say. “Making a nuisance of yourself!”

Kim Namjoon smiled, showing his dimples. However his smile wasn’t a kind or amused smile. It was the sort of expression she associated with sadists about to do something which would give them pleasure but cause excruciating pain to their victim. “I think you’re bluffing.”

He stepped into the hallway. To her chagrin, Y/N let him, she had not much of an option. He was far too large and muscular for her to use physical means to deny him access, she had muscles of her own, but not in the same class as his. He had looked a strong man in his office, but that might have been partly good tailoring. Now that he had changed out of his city suit into chinos and a dark blue cashmere sweater over a cotton shirt, it was clear that the breadth of his shoulders over nothing to clever padding.

“This is outrageous,” she snapped, while instinctively backing away to avoid coming into contact with that tall and powerful male body as he closed the door. “Don’t pretend to be in a panic. You know perfectly well I’m not going to harm you.”

“How do I know that? You’ve already shown signs of derangement.” She says nonchalantly “Not really. I’ll admit to being unconventional. You’ll get used to it.” He glanced around the hall and then with a gesture at the open door of the living room, said “After you.” Having no choice but to act on her threat or let him speak his piece, Y/N walked ahead of him. If he expected to be invited to sit down, he could think again. Grinding her teeth, she saw that she had left the file on the low glass-topped table in front of the sofa. Even worse, it was open, proving she had looked through it. But the first thing that caught his eye wasn’t the file but the half-full glass wine, her second, she had left by the telephone.

“A bad habit, drinking alone,” he remarked, with sardonic glance at her hostile face. “I don’t as a rule. It’s been a tiring day. I’m not used to dealing with people who think they can trample roughshod over the rest of the world.” She folded her arms and glared at him. “You have to be the most objectionable person I have ever met.”

“Because I want to marry you? Even if they don’t wish to say yes, most women regard a proposal as a compliment” he says. Y/n quirked her brows up “Not when it comes from a stranger who regards women as chattels.”

“There are cultures where it’s the custom for girls not to even see the face of their husband’s face until after marriage ceremony. Marriage is a practical institution. It’s because our culture ignores that we have so many divorces. Wouldn’t you rather stay married?” Y/N scoffs at this. “I am not interested in marriage, certainly not you.”

At this point the buzzer sounded again. She saw him looking displeased by the interruption as she went to answer the door. This time it was the takeout delivery man. She took the box to the kitchen before paying him the money she had ready in her pocket. Rejoining Namjoon, she said pointedly, “My supper’s arrived, I’d like to eat it while it’s still hot.”

Ignoring the hint, he said, “You ought to keep your door chained until you see who your caller is.”

“Normally I do. It’s only because I thought you were the man with the pizza that you were able to barge in” y/n replied. “That was lucky…for me.” He began to look round the room, taking in the color scheme, the books and paintings, and the mirrors. Y/N loved mirrors, especially antique ones. As a child, her favorite book had been a copy, inherited from her grandmother, of through the looking glass. Somehow the wrong way around view seen through a mirror always looked than what was really happening around her. She had often wished she could step through the frame of a mirror into a world where things we the same but different. Her parents’ marriage a happy one and herself a model pupil like her elder sister. “Nice room. Who designed it?” asked Namjoon.

No one had ever remarked on the way the room looked. She couldn’t help feeling a slight sense of gratification that someone had finally noticed the effect she had spent a lot of time and thought achieving. “Nobody well known,” she said. “Please, I want to get on with my supper and I have everything packed by tomorrow afternoon. I really don’t have time to talk. Even if we had anything sensible to talk about.”

“A pizza’s a poor sort of supper, especially if you’re eating alone. Let me buy you a decent dinner and try to convince you that my plan makes a lot of sense, then, if you like, I’ll give you a hand packing.” While Namjoon continues to survey the room without looking at her. “ABSOLUTELY NOT. No way!” Y/N said emphatically, but not with much hope he would accept her refusal. He didn’t, “No to dinner, or no to help with the packing?”

“No to both and no to everything. Have another look through some magazines and pick some other woman. I am not for sale, Mr. Kim” she says indignantly. “Do you like music?” he asked. Disconcerted by the seemingly irrelevant question, she said “Some music, yes.”

“Have you heard of Min Suga?” he continues. “Never heard of him.” It was an exaggeration. She had heard the name but that was the limit of her knowledge. “He was a Korean composer who lived in the last century. His most important work was done in Prague, helping to form a national opera. He had a nasty end. Went deaf and died insane.”

“If I wanted to know about the lives of obscure composers I’d borrow a book from the library.” Y/N is starting to get pissed. “Is reading one of your pleasures?” replied by the man. “Yes, as it happens, it is. But –“

“That’s good. It’s one of mine and I have a large private library.” Feeling her temper starting to simmer, Y/N said patiently, “I shouldn’t think it includes the kind of book I enjoy and if Min Suga is one of your favorite composers your cd collection would send me to sleep. I had enough of that stuff in musical appreciation sessions at school. I only like pop music.”

It wasn’t true. She had thought that if she was to share her love for classical music this might put the man to further push his determination on marrying her. Not visibly deterred, he said “The reason I mentioned Min Suga is because his most famous opera was called THE BARTERED BRIDE. BARTER, The exchange of goods, was how people traded before money was invented, I am not trying to buy you Y/N. I am however proposing a trade-off. Things I need, for the things you need. Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come out to dinner?”

“Definitely not….”

“In that case I’ll leave you to your pizza and take myself off for some Arbroath smokies at Scotts, or maybe their Loch Fyne smoked salmon.” As he mentioned that two specialties of one of Korea’s best restaurants, the hard eyes warmed with malicious amusement. Could his private detective have found out that she adored fish and seafood. On his way to the door, Namjoon added, “I’ll call you in the morning. After you’ve slept on the idea, you may find it more appealing.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll take the phone off the hook.” She snapped and let himself out.

[just-jordie-things]

The Child and the Coyote - Malia Tate (part one)

word count: 2081 summary: nine year old y/n meets a friend in the woods while her father is out to work... and it’s quite a mystery to her how they click so well warnings: dead family members (y/n’s mother passed when she was young) *gif isn’t mine, credits to rightful owners*

You brought your plate with your sandwich sitting on it outside with you so that you can enjoy the scenery of the woods while you ate.

In the nine years since you’d been born, you’ve lived in a small cabin in the Beacon Hills Preserve.  Your father always told you that your mom had loved the hiking, and that she used to paint the beautiful setting.  So when she passed away, he didn’t want to leave the home that your family had built there.  You were young when she passed, about three years old, so you don’t remember much of her.  Just small memories that are painted in your dreams and when you daze off and your mind goes places you don’t mean for it to.

You looked over the outside, a morning light shining through the trees and casting different shadows and rays of light on the forest floor.  You loved having a non traditional yard, no bright green grass and sidewalk leading towards the front door, but a ground of matted down dirt and twigs and leaves that would fall from the trees on windy days.

After breathing in the smell of pine and something that could only be described as ‘outside’ you took your lunch and sat down at the wood picnic table your father had built before you were born.  You hadn’t seen his boots at the door this morning, so you figured he’d already gone into town for another day of work.  You felt sad for not having been awake to wish him goodbye, but he’d be home before supper to tell you all about his day.

Just as you’d sank your teeth into the delicious sandwich that you took such pride in making, you heard a rustling.  The eerily familiar sound of leaves crunching and sticks snapping as heavy feet fell on them towards you.  You set your lunch back onto it’s plate, your eyes trained on the open part of the woods where the sound had come from.

“Hello?” You called, trying to keep your voice as steady as you could.  Logically, you thought, it must be a hiker.  Hikers often came through here, and a few regulars that you and your father had made friendly with.  But this time felt different, you didn’t have your father’s protection in case it wasn’t a kind regular woods enthusiast.

But when the owner of the noise made itself present, you weren’t as terrified at all.  Especially since it wasn’t even a person.  No, it was a young looking coyote.  You smiled at the small and quite frankly, scraggly animal.

“Hello” You said again, but this time with a bright smile at the creature.  “Come here” You clicked your tongue a few times, turning with your plate and sandwich in your hands.  The coyote raised it’s nose, smelling your meal from afar.  You noticed this, and ripped the meal in half.  “You want some?” You said in a light tone, holding it out to it.  Upon the gesture it stepped backwards, taking nervous stature.  “I won’t hurt you” You prompted softly, then tossed the piece of food out towards it away from you, hoping it’d eat it.  It looked like it hadn’t eaten in days.

You giggled and smiled when it took a few hesitant steps forwards, and grabbed it quickly in it’s mouth, practically swallowing it whole.

“You want some more?” You asked, and held out the rest of the sandwich.  Something in you clicked that this animal needed the food much more than you did.  You could always make another sandwich, right?

This time, it came up to you, and carefully took it from your hand, it’s blue eyes not leaving yours as it slowly chewed and swallowed the food, as though savoring it.  You smiled at it, and held out your hand, palm open.  Something your father had once told you about dogs, to hold your hand out for them to sniff so they know you’re safe and mean no harm.

As you suspected, the coyote put it’s wet nose to your hand, and licked it upon taking in the scent of your sandwich.  You giggled, and rose your hand, slowly setting it on it’s head to pet it.  It’s ears went back, not in aggression, but in a slight fear.  Anxiousness as you slowly and gently pet it’s soft fur.  After a few strokes it nuzzled into you, setting it’s head on your lap.

“I’m gonna call you…. Blue” You said.  “Cause your eyes are blue.  Like the sky” You told it.  “Now, are you a boy coyote or-��

It growled at the assumption, and you jumped slightly before you laughed.

“So you’re a girl” You said cautiously, and it nodded it’s head.  You swore it nodded it’s head.  “Do you… do you understand what I’m saying?” You asked, voic quiet like you were sharing a secret.

Another nod.

“Really?”

Another nod.

“Do you… do you have a family? A mama somewhere? Are you lost?”

A small head shake.

“You don’t have a home?”

It looked into the woods, where it had appeared from, then back to you.  You didn’t know what to make of the answer, so you asked a different question.

“Where’s your family?”

A head shake again.

“You don’t have one?”

A head shake.

Your heart clenched and your eyes saddened upon realizing the young animal had no family.  You frowned, petting her softly again.

“I lost my mama too” You said quietly.

Suddenly she stepped away from your hands, and backed up towards the trees.  You wanted to call for her to come back, but you didn’t want to frighten her any more than she already seemed to be.  So you just waved your hand slightly in parting.

“Goodbye Blue” You said quietly, before she turned, and ran off through the woods.

You smiled to yourself as you went inside to make another lunch.  Certain that she would return.

Your father came home from work a few hours later, and he was surprised to find you in the kitchen, standing on the step stool as you stirred a pot of something that smelled too good to be made by a child in the fourth grade.

“Hey princess!” He called, baring as big a smile he could after a long day’s work.  You grinned as you looked over to him, a soup spoon in your hand.

“Hi daddy!” You responded.  “I’m making us dinner!” He chuckled, hanging his coat on a hook and placing his boots away from the door.

“I can smell it! Good cookin’?” You giggled again as he came into the kitchen to inspect what it was that you were making.

“Chicken noodle” You told him, offering him a spoonful to taste.  He gladly did, smacking his lips before ruffling your hair.

“Tastes wonderful y/n” He told you, and you smiled to yourself out of pride before going back to stirring the pot.  “You don’t have to constantly stir it dear, the flavor is well distributed” Your father said as he began to get down silverware and bowls to set the table.

“I know.  I just like stirring” You said, making him laugh at your adorable antics.

“Alright kiddo” He said, setting the tabletop neatly before taking a seat.  “You need any help?”

“Nope! I’ve mastered my chef skills” You said, making him chuckle again.

When you’d filled both of your bowls with the meal you’d conjured up, you fell into a conversation about his day.  Your father worked at a bait shop, selling everything from fishing gear to camping gear.  He tells you about the strange people who come in, as well as friends of your family that stop by to say hi.

You don’t really go into town that often, not that you weren’t aloud to, you did for schooling, but you prefer your home in the woods.  Something about it’s secluded area and quietness just appealed to you more than busy streets.  But some days you’d walk home from school instead of taking the bus, maybe stopping in a few shops just to look around and get a feel for city life.  

(Beacon Hills wasn’t New York City by any means, but to you, it was a city)

“So princess how was your day?” Your father asked, dipping a piece of his bread into his bowl before taking a bite.  You looked down to where you absently twirled the spoon around the soup bowl.  You were conflicted on whether or not you should tell him about the coyote friend you’d made earlier.  Mostly out of fear of him not believing you.

Or worse, wanting to hunt it.

No, he wasn’t the kind of man to go hunting for sport, or even for a meal on the table.  In fact he was more of a fishing guy.  But when he felt there were predators too close to your home, he’d do what he had to to protect it.

“The McCalls called earlier” You said, deciding against telling him about Blue, and instead about your friend Scott.

“Oh yeah? You planning to have your little boyfriend over sometime?” He asked light heartedly, but with a wink and a knowing smile.  You rolled your eyes.

“Daddy I don’t like Scott like that.  He’s just a friend” You told him, and he chuckled, knowing perfectly well that you and Scott were merely best friends.  He just liked to mess with you seeing that your best (and sadly, only) friend was of the opposite sex.

“And what did you and your friend talk about?” He asked, keeping up the banter, to which you huffed, crossing your arms in a sarcastic sort of way.

“Just school stuff.  He wanted to play cars tomorrow at recess because he got a new one from his dad today” Your father nodded, a small huff sound coming from him at your mentioning of Rafael McCall.

You and your father were very aware of the drunken habits of the man.  So you kept special tabs on Scott, just to make sure he was always okay and safe.

“Well if you want him to come over after school, I’ll be home before your day’s over” He said.  “And I could give him a ride home as well if he’d need it” You grinned excitedly.

“Can I call and ask him?” You asked, and he nodded.

“I’ll clean up in here” He said, and you jumped out of your seat to retrieve the phone from the living room.

But not before swiping the bread that you had tucked into your lap and hid for most of the meal.

You grabbed the phone and went outside, closing the door quietly behind you as you clicked the number 2 on the phone, speed dialing the McCall household.  Melissa picked up shortly after it rang.

“y/d/n?” She asked.

“Nope! It’s y/n” You replied, and the woman chuckled, seemingly in a tired fashion.

“What can I do for you sweetheart?” She asked, and you began looking around in the dark, holding out the bread roll in your hand.

“I was wondering if Scott could come over and play tomorrow after school?” You asked her.  “My dad said we can drive him home afterwards” You added.

“Of course! I’ll let him know I'm sure he’d love to” Melissa said, and you grinned excitedly.

“Okay, thank you Mrs McCall!” You said eagerly, before hanging up the phone.

You continued to look around, clicking your tongue and hoping to see Blue appear from the shadows.

And she did.

You happily tossed the bread out to her, about to approach her to pet her for a few minutes, when you heard your father calling for you.

“y/n? Did you go outside?” You wildly looked to the coyote.

“Go!” You whispered loudly, and she seemed to take the hint, taking the bread and running back into the trees like she had before.  “Yeah I’m out here dad!” You yelled back once she was out of sight, and safe.

The door opened, revealing your dad, and you went back indoors with him.  “Just enjoying the scenery” You said, setting the phone back on it’s stand in the living room.  He nodded, smiling at you.

“Your mother loved it too” He said, a sad sort of smile on his lips.  You smiled back at him, before heading upstairs to get ready for bed.

But all you could think of was your new friend.

*cackling* AND SO MY NEXT SERIES BEGINSSS

xoxo ~ jordie

[fanfic-inator795]

WoY Twoshot: The Dadsome, Part 2

Plot: Awesome actually never held much resentment towards him, in fact he pretty much understood why he left. He also didn’t think he’d ever see the guy again… Funny how the universe sometimes works out.

((Part of the Awesome Arc. Enjoy!

Part 1 of ‘The Dadsome’ here!))

It was about sunset by the time Awesome stepped out of the Skullship’s ‘jaw’ and onto its long tongue. From high above, he could still see a few stragglers left on the beach, wanting to enjoy just a few more minutes on the sand or in the water. 

Most of the tourists and locals however were on the boardwalk, either grabbing some supper or heading home. Unsurprisingly, there were quite a few Watchdogs among the crowd, eager to enjoy their few extra hours of downtime on Baroceon.

Not that he could really blame them though. Going out somewhere was always better than being forced to stay inside a stuffy ship all the time. But before he could go and join them, Awesome made sure to take one last look at himself. Sure, this wasn’t exactly a first impression moment, but his dad had already seen him in one sorta lame outfit that day, Awesome didn’t want him to see him in another one. But thank Grop for Handy and teleportation mail delivery (even if the shipping price was a bit outrageous). 

With his uniform left behind in his room, he was now wearing a tank top with blue and pink paint splatters on it (perfect for a sunny and colorful setting like a beach), bright purple pants and silver fingerless gloves. A gold chain with a smaller yet still shiny and cool charm version of his ‘A’ medallion on it hung around his neck. Finally, he had finished off the outfit with a pair of white heeled sandals. Of course, he had also decided to go with the purple lipstick, just to mix things up a bit, as well as a dark blue eyeshadow.

Smiling in approval of himself, Awesome headed down the tongue and stepped onto the boardwalk. He only had to wait a few minutes or so before he spotted a grey dorsal fin above the heads of the crowd. “Hey!” he shouted, giving a small wave, “Over here!”

“Oh, hey.” The older shark-man quickly maneuvered through the sea of tourists, and gave Awesome a smile once he could fully see him. “There you are, kiddo.” He was still wearing his homemade shark-tooth bracelet and dark grey tank top, though now he was wearing a opened, dark blue jacket over it. His swim shorts had been traded in for a pair of faded brown pants, and on his feet were black sandals. It wasn’t that cool of an outfit but it still looked pretty good - definitely not lame or dorky. 

“Heh, yep, here I am,” Awesome replied coolly, grinning back at him, “So Dad, do you know where our first awesome stop of the night is going to be?”

Makoto nodded. “Sure do,” he said simply before turning to the left and leading the way down another path of the boardwalk - this one being a lot less crowded, but also more thin and not quite as exciting. 

“Huh...” Maybe it was an exclusive place? Shrugging, Awesome followed him, and glanced around at the smaller shops and stalls as they walked. A few of them actually had candles or small lanterns hanging above them, glowing warmly and lighting the way as the sky grew darker. “...Sorta like the lights on the surface back home,” he mumbled.

“Hm?” Makoto glanced back at him, “Your mom actually let you go up to the surface?”

“Well, sometimes.” Like the times when she had no idea he was even visiting the streets and boardwalks of the surface - or, as the island was called in her words at least, the ‘Surface-land Swamp-Pool’. “It’s a really cool place, you know? Definitely a lot different from the towns and cities below it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Makoto nodded, “I visited the island a couple times, and I had a good time. It’s probably changed a lot though, since the last time I saw it.”

Awesome smiled. “Definitely,” he replied, a bit of pride slipping into his voice.

Turning another corner, Awesome could see that they were reaching a dead end, where the stalls were a bit more separated and a couple tables and benches sat at the end of the path. It didn’t really matter though, since his father had stopped walking, and was instead standing at one of the ‘restaurant’s’ front counters. 

“Ey, Mako!” The chef - a man who sorta looked like a starfish but with hair and an extra pair of arms - greeted, “Haven’t seen you in a while!”

“I’ve just been busy,” Makoto shrugged, giving a small smirk as he sat down on one of the bar stools near the counter, “Just a couple of the usual along with whatever he-” He gestured towards Awesome, who still hadn’t taken a seat and was instead just sort of staring at the two of them, as well as the stall. Honestly, the place looked so old, how the grop was it still standing? “-get him whatever he wants too. And, maybe we could add the friends discount onto that bill~?” He asked as he flashed a charming smile at him.

The starfish chef rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re my best customer, Mako, otherwise I would tossed you out on your tail fin before you could even think the word ‘discount’!” Despite the harsh words though, Makoto just laughed it off, with the chef soon joining him. However, once the chuckles died down, all eyes were on Awesome. “So kid, what are you havin’?”

“Oh, uh-” He looked up again, but couldn’t see any real sign or menu anywhere, “I guess I’ll have whatever he’s having?” He couldn’t do better than a local recommendation, right? “Oh, and Blue Smawaii. Haven’t had one of those in a while.”

“Sorry kid, can’t make a Blue Smawaii,” the chef replied bluntly as he got to work, opening up the cooler behind the counter, “Only bottled drinks here. But, I can still get ya the two grilled shrimp kebabs.”

“Oh... Well, that’s cool,” Awesome said, trying not to look too disappointed. Instead, he gave a small smile as he sat down. “Heh, guess I’m gonna get to try one of those awesome kebabs that one of the guys who was stationed here told us all about.”

“Oh no, that place is always packed,” Makoto told him, giving a dismissive wave, “If we try to go now, there’s no way we’d get in. Besides, the kebabs here have the same taste for a cheaper price. Even for not having any fingers, Reg still knows how to make a good grilled shrimp.”

The younger shark-man’s smile faltered, but he didn’t say anything as the two silently watched Reg wash the shrimp before beginning to stick them onto the skewers. 

“...So, why don’t you tell me some more about the stuff you’ve been up to,” he heard his father say after a few moments, “We still have some stuff to catch up on, right?”

Awesome glanced over at him, his smile slowly returning. “...Heh, yeah, totes.” So, he started telling him about some of the sweet parties he’d thrown, the various victories he’d had, some of the people he had met, and he even told him about some of the things he had done as a kid like becoming the star of his dance class and eventually developing his own style. And, as an added bonus, since his dad didn’t know about them in the first place, he wasn’t forced to mention any of his failures or any incidents involving her. Definitely a great added bonus.

There weren’t too many questions or even much excitement from Makoto’s side of the conversation, but there wasn’t any signs of boredom or disapproving glares (things he was more than used to getting from his other parent) either, so Awesome took it as a good sign that he was enjoying the conversation. And honestly... Awesome was too, even if it wasn’t anything too exciting or cool. It was still admittedly just sort of... well, nice!

Although, there was one instance of disapproval from his father, and it was right after Awesome had finished sharing the story about a certain party...

“Wait-” Makoto quickly swallowed his bite of shrimp, “So, ou destroyed her whole house? And you didn’t tell her about it until after she came home?”

“Yeahhhh...” Holding back his laughter, Awesome just gave a sheepish smile, “I mean, I didn’t know the party would get THAT crazy! ...Well, okay I did but I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal! I mean, like, it was at her summer off-planet home, so she still had her winter off-planet home that she could crash at!”

“Still, I can kinda see why she would be pretty pissed at you for that one,” Makoto lightly argued, not exactly looking too pleased about the incident either. Awesome however just rolled his eyes. Sure, maybe he did feel a bit awkward about some of his other destructive parties when he thought back on them, given that lots of planets in their Galaxy were destroyed not too long ago... But this party? He didn’t feel too bad about it at all. 

Thankfully, Makoto didn’t intend to scold him too much on the matter. “Trust me, I know she’s not the easiest person to deal with,” he said as he turned away slightly, “But Odie’s not the worst. Difficult to please, but not the worst.”

“If you say so,” his son mumbled, pausing for a moment before quickly finishing off the rest of his kebab. 

Soon enough, their meal was finished, the bill was paid, and the two shark-men were back on their way. The sky was darker now, with a few stars managing to twinkle bright enough to be seen. The boardwalk was a lot emptier too, but thankfully this was just one part of the planet. 

“Huh,” Awesome started to say casually, putting his arms behind his head, “This place practically looks deserted. Guess everyone’s just out doing their own thing at clubs or bars or whatever.”

“Guess so,” Makoto shrugged before glancing over at him, “So, anything else you’ve got to tell me?”

While it was kind of nice to know that he really was interested, Awesome shook his head. “Nah, not really. But hey, I’m sure you’ve got TONS of stuff to tell me. Your own rad stories, cool people that you’ve met over the years, maybe even some awesome places that you’ve been to here on Baroceon? Heck, I bet there’s plenty of fun things to do here!”

Makoto paused, and after a moment, he smirked slightly. “Yeah, I guess there are some pretty fun things to do here, and some guys I know that are pretty cool. Think you’d be up for it, kiddo?”

“You know it~!” Awesome replied, practically shouting his answer.

“Heh, alright.” With that, Makoto continued, once again leading the way while his son excitedly followed, grinning the whole way. 

()()()()()()()()()()

Needless to say, where they ended up going wasn’t exactly the place Awesome expected. 

After fifteen minutes of walking, the two had traveled from the boardwalk, to a street, to a small neighborhood that sat on a small hill, giving a somewhat decent view of the ocean. 

“Most of the other guys should be here, since it’s a Friday,” Makoto said as he knocked on the wood of the sliding door. A muffled voice answered, and he slid the door open. Almost immediately, he was met with several greetings. “Hey Mako!” “Wow, you’re actually here this week? Thought maybe you forgot about us.” “Or maybe he just wants to get his pockets emptied.”

“Heh, you wish, Brock,” Makoto smirked, making his way inside. Of course Awesome followed him, and was glad to see that the living room of this house looked at least a little bit bigger and newer than the house looked on the outside. Still, there wasn’t much to it. Just a few dudes sitting around a table, a bowl of chips, and some playing cards. There wasn’t even a radio there to play background music. 

If there was any consolation though, at least the guys there looked kinda cool, along with looking just as chill as his dad. “So who’s the kid?” one guy - a green alien with three eyes and a shell on his back - asked.

“Guys, this is Hersch-” “Awesome.” “Ah, right. This is Awesome, my son. He’s here visiting for the night, and I just figured we could both have a pretty fun time here.” Not having any problem with that, most of the guys scooted over to make room while the three-eyed man went to go get a couple more chairs. 

In return for their welcome, Awesome just gave them a small smile and a ‘S’up?’. “Heh, I can see the resemblance between you two,” another man - one with eyestalks and tentacle arms - commented.

The man next to him however - a dark grey guy with small, black spikes along his back and limbs - didn’t look nearly as impressed as he looked up and down at Awesome’s outfit. “Kawarini musume o tsurete kita no wa tashikadesu ka?“ he muttered. 

Unfortunately for him, it was just loud enough for Makoto to hear it, and in one swift movement, he had hooked his hand under the guy’s arm (making sure to avoid the spikes). He then lifted him up, high enough so that he could see Makoto’s very unamused look. The guy cringed, wincing at the pain. “H-Hey, come on, Mako! It was just a joke!”

“Yeah well, how about we keep these ‘jokes’ to a minimum, alright Mori?” Makoto told him before promptly dropping him back in his seat. Awesome couldn’t help but give a small smirk at the incident, though it quickly fell once he saw the cheap looking chairs that he and his dad would be sitting in. 

However, when he saw that Makoto had no problem with them, Awesome swallowed his complaints and sat down next to him. “You guys up for a drink?” Brock asked. 

The younger shark-man grinned. “Tc’ch, always, bro!”

The others chuckled a bit at that. They could still remember when drinking was fun and exciting for them, even if it was a long time ago. “Pick your favorite, kid,” the man with the tentacles said as her reached under the table and pulled out the various bottles they had to choose from. Once again, Awesome was met with total disappointment.

Cheap beer. Nothing but cheap, generic, barely worth drinking and totally lame beer. Grop, they didn’t even have Thunderblazz! Who didn’t have Thunderblazz?! Still, he was a bit thirsty, so he just picked the best of the worst and forced himself to take a small sip, holding back a grimace. What he wouldn’t give for a margarita or a pina colada or, heck, even just a few jello shots right now...

Once he had finished collecting all the playing cards (as well as a bit of cash from everyone except Awesome, who was allowed to have a ‘freebie round’ since it was his first game), Brock began passing them out to everyone, allowing both the game and any remaining conversations to continue.

Awesome tried to listen and add to their conversation, he really did! Because hey, maybe these guys were just taking a break, and before long they’d break out the good stuff and do things that were actually fun to do on a Friday night. There was still a chance of that, right?

...Well, after several minutes passed, it definitely didn’t look too likely. And, once the conversation shifted from just sharing what had happened to you recently to discussing the prices of fishing nets and boardwalk food, Awesome completely tuned out...

()()()()()()()()()()()()

“A pretty good last game, huh?” Makoto asked as he walked out of the house about twenty five credits richer. Nothing too big - their pots and the amounts they put in them each round, never were - but it was still something.

Awesome, who was in the middle of yawning, quickly replied, “Uh, yeah, totally. Heh, didn’t know you were such a card shark...”

“Eh, I think I was just lucky tonight,” Makoto shrugged, still smiling a bit, “But I’ll admit, I still know how to play my cards right. You know, once I actually have the right cards in my hand.”

The sky was already starting to lighten up, with Baroceon’s nights being a couple hours shorter than most thanks to its placement within its system. The sky was sorta cloudy however, so any sunlight that was starting to appear was mixed with plenty of shadows and shade. The air was cool, and Awesome could hear a few gulls chirping in the distance (far in the distance, thankfully). Despite his night turning out to be completely and utterly boring, he could admit that this moment at least was pretty peaceful.

After a moment or two however, the mood was ruined a bit when he picked up on the scent of smoke, his snout scrunching up a bit in response. Glancing over, he quickly found the source of the smoke, and couldn’t help but stare at it. “...You smoke?”

“Hm?” Makoto met his gaze as he blew out another smoke cloud, “Yeah. ...Is that ‘not cool’ or-?”

“Oh, no it’s cool. I mean, I’ve got nothin’ against it,” he replied, though he still had a bit of a confused expression, “It’s just - I don’t really remember you smoking before. ...But, I guess I was only a couple years old at the time and, like, we were living underwater so-”

“Yeah...” He sighed, “It’s not something I do too often but, hey, it makes a pretty good substitute for the heavier stuff.” 

The heavier stuff... If he had been surprised by his dad smoking, he really should have been even more surprised by that. However, all Awesome could focus on instead was the second set of implications behind those words: That his father actually did live the exciting, partying, wild life he’d always imagined he did, at least at one point. 

...So, what had happened to it? 

Finishing off his cigarette, Makoto gave another sigh and tossed it onto the old, wooden boards. Awesome made sure to step on it, crushing it as he walked forward. A bit of sunlight landed the side of his face, warming it for just a moment before disappearing, blocked by another purple tinted cloud. 

“So, you have a good time tonight, kiddo?” he asked as they turned a corner. The Skullship was still floating above the boardwalk, mouth opened despite it still being an hour and a half before Awesome’s set returned time. 

“Uh, yeah. It was... alright,” the younger shark-man answered, barely able to force a smile. For a moment, he wondered if his father would even notice.

But, whether it was considered a good thing or a bad thing, Makoto did notice. “Just alright?” he asked as he glanced back at his son, “Well, did you actually have a good time or not?”

“Yeah, sure,” Awesome shrugged, his eyes now on his feet, “I mean, it was, like, a pretty good time. So, yeah.”

Makoto stopped. Turning around, he crossed his arms and gave his son a flat look. “You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings, you know. So come on, what’s wrong? What didn’t you like about it?”

“...” The younger shark-man sighed, forcing himself to look up at his father. “Okay, like... it wasn’t a terrible night or anything! I can promise that I legit enjoyed some parts of it. But, like... I guess I was just, you know, expecting more?”

“...And why’s that?” Makoto asked, more out of curiosity than accusation.  

“Why not?” Awesome retorted, “Like, I just figured that when you started talking about great places and hanging out, I thought you were talking about going to clubs and partying and doing stuff that’s actually cool and fun! Because honestly, why wouldn’t you want to spend your life doing that? That’s the stuff that’s worth doing, and that would actually be worth leaving for so that you could do it all, not just-!”

He stopped, his voice dying in his throat as his body froze. Grop... did he really just say that? His dad was staring at him, his eyes widened slightly. As the few seconds of silence passed, the air was so tense that not even a crashing asteroid could tear their eyes away from each other.

“I... I didn’t mean it like that!” Awesome said quickly, “I swear I didn’t! I mean- I totally understand why you left! I totally get it, and I’m not mad at you for it or anything! Cause, like, who wouldn’t want to live their life partying?! That’s WAY better than just being stuck on your boring home planet with lame losers your whole life! I can’t blame you for wanting something cooler! And I mean, flarp, that’s pretty much the other reason I left home too! Not just to make the kingdom bigger, but so I could have the freedom to live an awesome and epic party-life! It’s what I did before, and it’s what I’m going to do again once I’m done with my training!”

He paused, taking a moment to give his dad a small smile. “So, like, don’t think that I’m mad at you or hate you or anything, okay? We’re still cool, right?”

Unfortunately, his son’s words did nothing to reassure him. In fact, Makoto just looked more upset now. “...What?” Awesome asked, not understanding, “I said-”

“I know what you said,” Makoto replied as he finally turned away. Awesome’s frowned deepened as he clenched his fists.

“...I’m sorry,” he said simply, his words still sounding small even if they were genuine.

“You... You shouldn’t be the one apologizing.” Makoto still wasn’t looking at him. Really, it almost seemed like he wasn’t looking at anything. He was just staring into space as his thoughts raced, though one thought rose above them all: If there was any moment where he had to actually be a dad, this was it. “Hey, Awesome...”

“...Yeah?” his son asked cautiously. 

“You want to know why I live such a simple life? Why I live such a ‘boring’ life?” he asked as he looked up - his face almost looking like it had aged another decade in just a few seconds. “Well, it’s ‘cause I learned something that’s pretty important: You’re never as cool as you think you are.”

“...” Awesome could feel his heart start to feel like it was sinking, but as much as part of him wanted to just completely ignore this, another part couldn’t help but listen as his father continued talking.

“You’re never as cool as you think you are... Even if you feel like you’re on top of the Galaxy, there’s always people cooler than you. Better than you, happier than you. So you try to feel better than them. Do stupid grop, force people to stay by you, do whatever you can just to feel the excitement and the high and the applause and the freedom. But it’s never enough... And before you know it, you’re stuck in your spotlight all alone and trapped while everyone else has moved on...”

“I, I don’t-” Awesome tried to say, his body shaking slightly, but he felt too stunned by all of this to try and argue. 

“It’s just the facts of life, unfortunately,” Makoto told him, glancing up for just a moment, “It doesn’t matter what we try to be, or even what we do. If we don’t eventually stop, we end up dooming ourselves. Make more mistakes, more regrets, until we’re at a completely dead end.” 

Awesome winced as flashes of his attempted come-back party, and even all the mistakes before it, were brought to the front of his mind. He clenched his eyes for a moment, trying to push them back. Those failures didn’t matter, he just had to forget about them and just be even more awesome to make up for them!

As if he could tell that this was what Awesome was doing, he older shark-man then looked his son straight in the eye, once again getting his complete attention. “And as long as you keep living this life - the cool, epic, awesome life that you want to get back to? - you’re just going to keep hitting that same dead end,” he finished simply.

“...” Even if his chest was still heavy, Awesome managed to glare at his dad, growling under his breath as he shook even harder. “Are... Are you serious...? Are you serious right now?! You’re calling what I love to do, what I am, a MISTAKE?! I mean, really?! Seriously, what gives YOU the flarping right to just throw shade on the way I live?! To call me a failure just because you made some mistakes?! I’m-!” 

Almost immediately, he was silenced when Makoto stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, gripping it firmly and steadying Awesome’s shaking just a little. Another ray of sunshine passed over them like a small wave, lasting for only a few seconds before the shadows of the clouds pushed it along. 

“...I know we still don’t exactly know each other that well, and... I’m sorry about that,” Makoto said quietly, “But... I don’t want to see you end up in that spotlight alone, chasing something that you’ll never reach and that’s just gonna leave you behind in the end. ...But there is another option, you know.”

“...A-And, what’s that?” Awesome asked as he tried to keep his voice steady.

“You can keep partying, and keep enjoying yourself. But... When people start to leave, and you know it’s slowing down, don’t try to stop it. Don’t try to force them to stay, or force it to continue, or wait for new people to join you. Instead, just leave with everyone else. Don’t let them leave you behind, and don’t choose to stay behind. Just let the party end.”

“...” Once again, Awesome found that he couldn’t say anything. He had things he could say but, at that moment, he just had no words. Makoto kept his grip on his shoulder, the two standing there side-by-side, feeling like they were the only two on the planet. But finally, Awesome did manage to say one word: “...Okay...”

It was hard to know what he really meant by that. ‘Okay, I’m going to follow your advice’ or ‘Okay, I heard you’. Honestly, Makoto wasn’t even sure that Awesome knew himself. Still, he accepted it, giving his son a small nod. “...I’ve made plenty of mistakes since I left home. Plenty of regrets, too,” he told him, tightening his grip just a little, “But, for what it’s worth... I don’t regret running into you again.”

Awesome said nothing. No agreeing, no arguing... but he didn’t try to pull away either. 

The minutes seemed to pass like ages as they continued to stand there, words and thoughts and even memories continuing to echo around them. Eventually though, Makoto glanced up at the sky. He gave a small hum. “Looks like it’s gonna rain a bit today... I guess I should probably get back to my stall, just to set things up.”

“...Yeah...” Awesome replied, his eyes locked on the floorboards below. Slowly, he felt his father’s hand loosen, staying just long enough to give him a small pat or two on the shoulder before disappearing. 

“...Hey.” The younger shark-man managed to look up. Makoto was already looking at him, managing a small smile, even if he did look pretty unsure. Still, he continued. “So, if you need to talk or anything... I don’t really mind if you decide to call me. Alright?” 

It took a moment, but Awesome did actually nod back at him. “Alright... Later kiddo.” 

“Yeah, later...” Makoto turned around and walked away, sticking his hands in his pockets as he kept his head forward. After a couple seconds, Awesome turned around as well, heading down the short rest of the way towards the Skullship. ...It wasn’t until he reached the tongue that he realized he had never even asked his father for his phone number. Still, he made no effort to try and catch up with him, and instead just sat down.

He didn’t really keep track of how long he sat there, but he knew it had to at least be 5:30 when he heard two pairs of footsteps walk down the tongue behind him. “...Uhh, Awesome?” Hater asked, “You know the ship’s open, right?”

“Yeah, Hater. I know.”

“...Then, why are you just sitting out here?” he asked as both he and his commander raised an eyebrow at him. When he didn’t answer, Hater asked another question. “...Did your dad turn out to be a huge jerk or something?”

Awesome thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah...”

“Well, did he not show up at all?” Peepers asked, trying his hardest not too sound too accusing. 

Awesome however still managed to give a small scowl at the implications, just for a moment. “No, he still showed up, and we spent the whole night together.”

There was a pause. Even more curious now, Hater and Peepers stepped of the tongue and moved to in front of the shark. “Then... What did happen?” Peepers asked, actually looking a bit concerned.

Awesome gave a small sigh, wrapping his arms tighter around him. “...Let’s just say that my old man just finished laying down some harsh truths for me and... I’m just trying to process it, alright?” Closing his eyes, he moved his hand up to rub his eye, not caring about ruining the make-up. 

“...I’m probably gonna stay out here a bit longer,” he told them, “Just, like... Give me five minutes or so. Or, I mean, if you guys gotta leave now, I can just catch up with you later or whatever...” 

The two looked at him for a moment before looking at each other. Not really sure what else to do, they simply moved out of the way and back onto the tongue and up to the jaw. Not too long after this, Awesome felt a raindrop or two land on his snout. The sun was fairly high now, providing a bit more light, but there were still plenty of thick clouds. “Guess he was right about the rain,” he mumbled, using the back of his fingerless glove to wipe the water away, only for three more drops to land on his face. 

With no point to it, he put his hand back down and continued to sit. A couple more drops landed on the top of his head. A raindrop or two here, a few more there, and then- ...Nothing. 

Blinking, Awesome glanced up, and saw the rim of a light red parasol hanging above him, easily blocking the drops. 

He felt Hater sit down next to him, offering an only-slightly awkward pat on the arm while Peepers stood at the former emperor’s other side, still managing to stretch and hold the parasol high above Awesome’s head. “...You’ve got ten minutes,” the commander told him. 

“...Yeah,” he nodded, briefly glancing over at each of them before facing forward once more, “Got it.” Maybe he wouldn’t exactly start to feel great after ten minutes, but it would be enough. 

And so, that’s what the three of them did. They just sat together, staying silent and staying close as they watched the rain lightly fall. 

THE END

((For those wondering what that one guy’s ‘joke’ was, he said “Are you sure you didn’t bring your daughter instead?”. Yeahhh, you can see why Makoto didn’t exactly appreciate that comment. 

Anyway, thanks for reading! Ever since I started writing the Awesome Arc, I knew that I wanted to write a story about Awesome running into his dad, and I also knew that it’d probably be one of the more interesting Awesome Arc stories to write. So, I really hope you all enjoyed it! ^v^))

[lodjzic]

Craig and Suzanne from Over The Moon

Let's start with the begining, how was your musical life before you became a Duo?

…Suzanne and I have spent a great deal of our lives so far as musicians for hire. Either for recording or live shows.  We traveled some of the same circles and knew of each other but had never met. I lived on Ontario, which is 4,000Ks from Alberta. so we never ran into each other in day to day life. We did however play with some of the same artists, just not at the same time.

Usually when we played live shows, they were very big venues with huge crowds. We would use in-ear monitors so we were essentially isolated from the room and the crowd. We could only hear what was sent to us. Many times we couldn’t even tell if the audience was clapping or liked the show. Often, lights would be shining in our eyes and you couldn’t even make out any faces in the crowd. It looked like a huge carpet of people.

After shows were finished the “artist” would go out to the lobby but we musicians would just go out the back door and then on to the bus. We never met anyone or had a chance to see if they liked us. It was almost like a factory job as we’d play the same songs, the same way, the same tempo etc.. every night.

When we did our first house concert as Over The Moon…Things couldn’t have been any more different. We were so close to the audience. We spent time with them before we even played a note. We talked to them during our shows, and then got to know them better after. Every single house concert we’ve ever been at, we’ve left with new friends. The first house concert hosts liked us so much that they insisted we get married at the beautiful place. We’ve been great friends ever since. It’s so much better than the other side of playing music for a living!!!

                                         >>  check the website HERE <<

I love the name of your duo, it's almost a statement about life ? Did it came naturally ?

… Over The Moon is a saying about how when a person is so happy that they feel they could just jump so high they would jump over the moon. When Sue and I fell in love that was how we felt and still do. When we first sang together, that was also how we felt. The first song we wrote together was “Over The Moon” We were just trying to tell folks how we felt. After writing it we thought, maybe we should start playing as a duo and call ourselves Over The Moon… SO yes, it was a very natural name for us. We’ve since found out that there are other bands called “Over The Moon” but Suzanne refuses to change our name so we have to just keep going ahead with it :)

How your duo was formed? How it happened ?

Well as I mentioned, I was hired to record some drum/percussion/banjo tracks for a group Suzanne was playing in. They were based in Calgary Alberta, but I didn’t have to travel there with the technology of today. I recorded my parts and sent them off and got paid for it…Just like normal. A few months later, I was in Calgary for rehearsals to start a tour called The Huron Carol. It was a Christmas tour that went coast to coast across Canada raising money for food banks so needy people can eat. The man that puts this tour together is an actor/singer named Tom Jackson and I stayed with him and his wife for the week of rehearsals. Suzanne’s band knew about that and asked me to be parts of their CD release since I was there and knew the songs. That was the first time I met Sue.. During that week, Tom had a dinner party at his house and invited many of Calgary’s musical community to attend and that included Suzanne. I was so happy to see her there but very shy to strike up conversation.

After supper, Tom always had an informal session of folks sitting around a circle and taking turns singing tunes. I am a very confident drummer and when I play them, it’s my job and I have no fear, but to sit on a stool and sing and play guitar by myself, was sheer terror:) Even more so when everyone there were musicians… I know my voice was shaking and I guess Suzanne took pity on me because she grabbed her bass and came and sat beside me and started singing along. Our voices blended so well, it was like magic. She phrased the words exactly like I did, even though we had never song anything together before. I can’t tell you what it felt like…She was my knight in shinning armour that came to save me…Haha… We have been madly in love from that second on and later that year we decided to give this duo thing a try as so many of our friends kept telling us that we had something special.

Let's talk about your music, if I say love, wildness, simplicity,happyness to describe your music and you'd have to  pick two, which would you keep and why?

Haha, that’s a hard one because they all have a great deal to do with our songs… I guess I would have to say”Love and Simplicity” We live in the middle of a 10,000 acre ranch, right beside the mountains. We live a very simple life and try to be as close as possible to nature and our roots. We try very hard to keep our music simple as well. It is such a change from the over produced music we have to play when were working musicians. I think that is why we produced it and recorded it ourselves on the ranch. We have lots of funny stories about recording here like…coyotes howling so loud outside that we had to put a big duvet on Suzanne’s head when she was singing so the howling wouldn’t end up on the record. I’m sure there is some though:) Also, for us to play as a duo, we only use acoustic instruments and it is such a challenge to make the songs sound interesting and have different textures with just the two of us. It’s very simple sounding but very hard to do… We love the challenge!

A far as love goes in our music… We just love our lives here and we love the land and people that live around us. Our writing and inspiration all come from that love. There is an old lady that lives in the closest town to us. Suzanne’s mom always invites her for Christmas dinner and other special occasions. She’s alone now but she's a British war bride that met an Alberta cowboy while he was stationed in England during the second world war. They were married and the next thing she knew, she was living on a wild ranch in Alberta’s mountains with horses, cows, bears, cougars, coyotes and wolves…Quite a change for her. Anyway, we think the world of her and we’re going over there next week to talk to her as Suzanne and I want to write a song about her life's journey. You can still feel the love she has for her cowboy husband even though he passed away a very long time ago…

It must be a joy to travel together. Some places, people that inspire you more than others?

We love to travel and to get a chance to meet real people. Many times it is the people of smaller communities that have their own identities, roots and live simpler.  We went to Cuba with our bicycles and got off the plane and started riding out to the countryside. We never stayed in one hotel. We just found people who would take you in and rent you a room and you’d eat with their families. They would often suggest other friends they knew in the direction we were travelling so we always knew where we were staying next. We met so many wonderful people. We heard such amazing music out there far away from the resorts. They made us feel like family and a couple of people even cried when we had to move on. We were invited to a birthday party and one home we stayed at and we all took turns sharing a guitar and singing songs. They loved our music and thought we sounded like a western movie:) They kept pointing to the sky and shooting off invisible guns:) It was very inspiring for us!

Are you afraid of tomorrow?

This is a very uncertain time to live in. We don’t believe you should be controlled by fear. There are people here who never go out into the mountains because of the possibility that they might run into a bear or a mountain lion. They never get to enjoy the beauty that surrounds them. That fear comes in all aspects of our lives.  I know that starting a new career as we are with our duo is a very scary proposition, but we love it.  We don’t know if we’ll be successful on a big scale but really, we don’t want to be. We are very happy to make music and live simply, grow our garden and spend time outside in nature and be near friends and family…And of course…be with each other!!!!

Your music makes you sound generous and sensitive... not the slightest flaw?

I think our music reflects who we are. We are very humble people who play music for a living. No better than anyone else. We think it’s just as important to spend time talking to the guy at the gas station who fills your car as it is to talk to some record company guy. I guess that’s why we love house concerts so much, as we get to meet other humble people and hear their stories. That’s so important to us as our music is about the common people and their stories of life. Can you imagine what a thrill it would be for us to come to France to play some house concerts and we meet someone who makes their own cheese and they give us some pointers or a farmer who’s family has been growing grapes for generations and the stories they’s tell. You don’t get that in those big venues!!!

Do you have a message for your future fans !

 I guess our message to fans would be…We would love to come and play for you sometime. We practise very hard and our music is very good (so they say:) but what most people say about us that matters most to us is…

“We can feel the love you two have for each other in every song” “We love the stories you tell about where you live and your lives being husband and wife” and “When you two sing together, it’s so beautiful, we started to cry”   We make friends wherever we go, so much so that the slogan on our CD is “We don’t have fans…We only have friends!

Don’t forget to visit the website https://overthemoonband.com/

[d-noona]

BARTERED BRIDE

Chapter 2: A Little Push

Kim Namjoon is a ruthless financier used to buying and selling stocks, shares and priceless artifacts. But now Namjoon has his eye on a very different acquisition - Park Han Byeol. Left destitute by her father’s recent death, Han Byeol walks into Namjoon’s bank looking to extend her overdraft. As Han Byeol needs money and Namjoon needs a wife, he proposes the perfect deal: he’ll rescue her financially if she agrees to marry him. But in this marriage of convenience can Han Byeol ever be anything more than just a bartered bride?  

She was on her way to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee when someone pressed the front-door buzzer. Answering it, Han Byeol found a bike messenger outside.

“Miss Park?”

“Yes?” she answered. “Big Hit X-Press, Package for you. Would you please sign for it?” Han Byeol wrote her name on the form and took the padded bag. There was nothing to indicate where it came from, only a plain white label with her name and address printed on it. Perhaps it was something she had ordered and forgotten about.

She thanked the pretty bike messenger, reading her name on her tag "Zil" to make sure she's appreciated, closed the door and walked back to the living room pulled the tab that opened the bag and peered at the contents, immediately recognizing the file Kim Namjoon had said was a resume of his life. Now there was a sheet of headed paper clipped to the cover. Aiming at the sofa, Han Byeol flung the package from her. As soon as she had her coffee, she’d find some sticky tape and a label, send the file back, un-stamped, with UNSOLICITED UNWANTED BUMPH written above the address.

She went to the kitchen, half-filled the electric kettle and perched on a stool at the breakfast bar. Usually she drank herb tea, being on a more or less permanent health kick. But sometimes, on days like this, she allowed herself a shot of caffeine. Postponing dealing with the package, she spent the next hour going through her father’s wardrobe, making sure nothing in the pockets of his suits before she folded them. Rather than giving them to a charity shop, she hoped to sell them. The chaos he had left behind him made it essential to raise money in every way.

With the hanging cupboards empty, the next job was the drawer, but after another cup of coffee or maybe a glass of white wine. She opened a bottle of Muscadet and filled a glass. Instead of taking it back upstairs she couldn’t resist her curiosity about the letter that man Kim Namjoon sent with the file. Later she debated going to a movie to make her mind off her problems for a couple of hours. But there she was still a lot to be done and she had already wasted half an hour reading the contents of the file.

She decided to phone for pizza and concentrate on the job in hand. During the evening she would call her mother, her mother didn’t know about the interview she had with Namjoon. Han Byeol felt it best not to mention it. She’d been trying to play down the financial side of her situation. Her supper arrived sooner than she expected. But when she opened the door, it wasn’t the pizza delivery man who stood outside. It was Kim Namjoon.

Han Byeol’s friendly expression froze into a mask of dislike. “What do you want?” she said curtly. “I thought you might have calmed down a little by now.” Says Namjoon. “I haven’t. I’m busy” she started to shut the door but he put a foot across the threshold and the flat of his hand on the door to hold it open. She had never expected to herself saying ‘How dare you” to anyone but it was what sprung from her lips, followed by a “Get out!”

“I’m not inside yet,” he said blandly. “We have things to talk about. May I come in?”

“We have nothing to say to each other. You have no right to pester me like this. If you don’t go away, I’ll call the security man and have you thrown off the premises” the further time passing Han Byeol’s annoyance started increasing. “On what grounds?” he dared say. “Making a nuisance of yourself!”

Kim Namjoon smiled, showing his dimples. However his smile wasn’t a kind or amused smile. It was the sort of expression she associated with sadists about to do something which would give them pleasure but cause excruciating pain to their victim. “I think you’re bluffing.”

He stepped into the hallway. To her chagrin, Han Byeol let him, she had not much of an option. He was far too large and muscular for her to use physical means to deny him access, she had muscles of her own, but not in the same class as his. He had looked a strong man in his office, but that might have been partly good tailoring. Now that he had changed out of his city suit into chinos and a dark blue cashmere sweater over a cotton shirt, it was clear that the breadth of his shoulders over nothing to clever padding.

“This is outrageous,” she snapped, while instinctively backing away to avoid coming into contact with that tall and powerful male body as he closed the door. “Don’t pretend to be in a panic. You know perfectly well I’m not going to harm you.”

“How do I know that? You’ve already shown signs of derangement.” She says nonchalantly “Not really. I’ll admit to being unconventional. You’ll get used to it.” He glanced around the hall and then with a gesture at the open door of the living room, said “After you.” Having no choice but to act on her threat or let him speak his piece, Han Byeol walked ahead of him. If he expected to be invited to sit down, he could think again. Grinding her teeth, she saw that she had left the file on the low glass-topped table in front of the sofa. Even worse, it was open, proving she had looked through it. But the first thing that caught his eye wasn’t the file but the half-full glass wine, her second, she had left by the telephone.

“A bad habit, drinking alone,” he remarked, with sardonic glance at her hostile face. “I don’t as a rule. It’s been a tiring day. I’m not used to dealing with people who think they can trample roughshod over the rest of the world.” She folded her arms and glared at him. “You have to be the most objectionable person I have ever met.”

“Because I want to marry you? Even if they don’t wish to say yes, most women regard a proposal as a compliment” he says. Han Byeol quirked her brows up “Not when it comes from a stranger who regards women as chattels.”

“There are cultures where it’s the custom for girls not to even see the face of their husband’s face until after marriage ceremony. Marriage is a practical institution. It’s because our culture ignores that we have so many divorces. Wouldn’t you rather stay married?” Han Byeol scoffs at this. “I am not interested in marriage, certainly not you.”

At this point the buzzer sounded again. She saw him looking displeased by the interruption as she went to answer the door. This time it was the takeout delivery man. She took the box to the kitchen before paying him the money she had ready in her pocket. Rejoining Namjoon, she said pointedly, “My supper’s arrived, I’d like to eat it while it’s still hot.”

Ignoring the hint, he said, “You ought to keep your door chained until you see who your caller is.”

“Normally I do. It’s only because I thought you were the man with the pizza that you were able to barge in” Han Byeol replied. “That was lucky…for me.” He began to look round the room, taking in the color scheme, the books and paintings, and the mirrors. Han Byeol loved mirrors, especially antique ones. As a child, her favorite book had been a copy, inherited from her grandmother, of Through The Looking Glass. Somehow the wrong way around view seen through a mirror always looked than what was really happening around her. She had often wished she could step through the frame of a mirror into a world where things we the same but different. Her parents’ marriage a happy one and herself a model pupil like her elder sister. “Nice room. Who designed it?” asked Namjoon.

No one had ever remarked on the way the room looked. She couldn’t help feeling a slight sense of gratification that someone had finally noticed the effect she had spent a lot of time and thought achieving. “Nobody well known,” she said. “Please, I want to get on with my supper and I have everything packed by tomorrow afternoon. I really don’t have time to talk. Even if we had anything sensible to talk about.”

“A pizza’s a poor sort of supper, especially if you’re eating alone. Let me buy you a decent dinner and try to convince you that my plan makes a lot of sense, then, if you like, I’ll give you a hand packing.” While Namjoon continues to survey the room without looking at her. “ABSOLUTELY NOT. No way!” Han Byeol said emphatically, but not with much hope he would accept her refusal. He didn’t, “No to dinner, or no to help with the packing?”

“No to both and no to everything. Have another look through some magazines and pick some other woman. I am not for sale, Mr. Kim” she says indignantly.

“Do you like music?” he asked.

Disconcerted by the seemingly irrelevant question, she said “Some music, yes.”

“Have you heard of Min Suga?” he continues.

"Never heard of him.” It was an exaggeration. She had heard the name but that was the limit of her knowledge. “He was a Korean composer who lived in the last century. His most important work was done in Prague, helping to form a national opera. He had a nasty end. Went deaf and died insane.”

“If I wanted to know about the lives of obscure composers I’d borrow a book from the library.” Han Byeol is starting to get pissed. “Is reading one of your pleasures?” replied by the man. “Yes, as it happens, it is. But –“

“That’s good. It’s one of mine and I have a large private library.” Feeling her temper starting to simmer, Han Byeol said patiently, “I shouldn’t think it includes the kind of book I enjoy and if Min Suga is one of your favorite composers your cd collection would send me to sleep. I had enough of that stuff in musical appreciation sessions at school. I only like pop music.”

It wasn’t true. She had thought that if she was to share her love for classical music this might put the man to further push his determination on marrying her. Not visibly deterred, he said “The reason I mentioned Min Suga is because his most famous opera was called THE BARTERED BRIDE. BARTER, The exchange of goods, was how people traded before money was invented, I am not trying to buy you Han Byeol. I am however proposing a trade-off. Things I need, for the things you need. Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come out to dinner?”

“Definitely not….”

“In that case I’ll leave you to your pizza and take myself off for some Arbroath smokies at Scotts, or maybe their Loch Fyne smoked salmon.” As he mentioned that two specialties of one of Korea’s best restaurants, the hard eyes warmed with malicious amusement. Could his private detective have found out that she adored fish and seafood. On his way to the door, Namjoon added, “I’ll call you in the morning. After you’ve slept on the idea, you may find it more appealing.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll take the phone off the hook.” She snapped and let himself out.